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 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." 
 
 <c I will, mamma." 
 
 " I shall wish you to go to school, Lotty." 
 
 " Oh, mamma !" 
 
 " I wish it, Lotty." 
 
 " I shall go, mamma." 
 
 " You will not forget, my child, that you are 
 a woman — a lady. As the men of the Beau- 
 villiers' race are strong and manly, so must the 
 women show themselves gentle and feminine." 
 
 " I will try, mamma." 
 
 But the child's heart was older in its affec- 
 tions, deeper and stronger in its love, than 
 even her mother knew. 
 
 A cold dew covered her, the room and the 
 dying mother faded from her sight, her dark 
 eyes, remarkable for their brilliant beauty, 
 grew dull, and closed. 
 
 " I die with mamma," she thought, happily
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 69 
 
 kissing her passionately. The poor mother 
 collected her remaining strength to fold the 
 little senseless form in her fond embrace, and 
 long before the broken-hearted Lotty recovered 
 from her swoon, her mother's spirit was in 
 heaven.
 
 70 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Six months after this event, Lotty and her 
 father were out on their daily ride. 
 
 It was the habit of the little girl on these 
 occasions (though usually silent) to say, if she 
 saw her father's head drooping with sorrowful 
 recollections, or the tears gathering in his eyes, 
 "Papa, do you think I can manage that hedge?" 
 If he said, " Yes, Lotty," the spirited little 
 rider, with her faultless pony, got over it some- 
 how. 
 
 And in admiring his child's courage and 
 skill, poor Mr. Beauvilliers would rouse him- 
 self for a little while.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 71 
 
 When the head again drooped, again the 
 little voice was heard, " Papa, in that meadow 
 we can have a good gallop, with the brook to 
 jump at the bottom." 
 
 So papa and the fearless little daughter pro- 
 ceeded to perform the feat, to both their entire 
 satisfaction. 
 
 It was thus that Lotty strove to remember 
 her mother's last words, and fulfil her present 
 duty. But, on this particular day, her voice 
 was low and trembling, and she said, seeing 
 her father more cheerful than usual, 
 
 " Papa, I am to go to school." 
 
 Poor little magnanimous Lotty ! School 
 was to her, in imagination, the fearful gaol 
 that the thief sees always before him, or the 
 distant, banished land winch the convict would 
 almost prefer death to beholding. 
 
 " Ah ! my Lotty, are you tired of your fond 
 father ?" 
 
 " No !" said Lotty, with energy. 
 
 So they trotted, side by side, for a mile or
 
 72 MARGARET 
 
 two, meeting now and then an admiring kins- 
 man, who, briefly saluting the afflicted pair, 
 would yet turn round and watch them with 
 loving eyes, as long as they w r ere in sight. 
 
 " Papa," said Lotty, " can I go to a school 
 so near you that I may ride over to see you 
 every day?" 
 
 " Ride, my pet ; I never yet heard of a 
 school where they allowed a girl to keep her 
 pony," returned her father. 
 
 Such an appalling fact sent the blood straight 
 from Lotty's face to her heart. That going to 
 school should be a bar to riding, and cause a 
 total separation between herself and those she 
 most loved, well nigh overcame every restraint 
 she had put upon herself, almost breaking 
 open all those hidden sluices of grief that she 
 had so carefully concealed from her father. 
 
 She was so absorbed that she did not per- 
 ceive that her father was in nearly the same 
 state as herself. 
 
 Giving her little spirited pony a touch of
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 73 
 
 the whip, he reared, plunged, and kicked, 
 causing Mr. Beauvilliers such alarm lest he 
 should unseat his rider, that Lotty saw the fit 
 of grief had passed by. 
 
 So she patted Midge on the neck, spoke to 
 and coaxed him ; but the little indignant fellow 
 was not to be soothed in that way, after such 
 unmerited treatment, and gave his little mis- 
 tress and her father ample trouble before they 
 finished their ride. 
 
 "I cannot think why he behaved in this 
 way," said Mr.' Beauvilliers, uneasily, scanning 
 him over with his eyes. 
 
 " Papa, I touched him with the whip." 
 
 " How came you to do that, my Lotty ; do 
 you not know he will not bear it ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa, I did it on purpose, because — 
 because you know I must go to school" — and 
 the little voice faltered. 
 
 " I know it, I know it, my child. Well, we 
 will consult your uncles and brothers." 
 
 It is needless to say that all the Beauvilliers
 
 74 MARGARET 
 
 were consulted, and the matter ended in its 
 being decided that Lotty should go to a school 
 in Bath. 
 
 All the Beauvilliers that had a right from 
 near relationship went to see the school, the 
 governess, Lotty 's future playmates, even her 
 private individual bed. All the Beauvilliers 
 that had not this privilege rode into Bath to 
 look at the house outside. 
 
 Being a very clever, sensible woman, Miss 
 Elton was rather amused than annoyed at 
 these proceedings, and was a prey to a vast 
 amount of curiosity to see the object of so 
 much affection. 
 
 She imparted her feelings to Millicent Erie, 
 her eldest pupil, and besought her kind aid to 
 assist in reconciling, what she supposed would 
 be, a spoilt darling to the trammels of school. 
 
 In compassion to the aged and apparently 
 heart-broken father, Miss Elton had agreed 
 that, every Saturday, Lotty was to go to Beau- 
 court, see her father, and return to school on 
 Monday.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 75 
 
 "But how will she travel, sir? Beau -court 
 must be twenty miles from here," said Miss 
 Elton. 
 
 " She will ride," replied Mr. Beauvilliers. 
 
 u Ride !" exclaimed Miss Elton, " that 
 child !" 
 
 " Yes," returned Mr. Beauvilliers, " she is 
 used to it. I will send her pony and servant 
 every Friday evening to the mews close by." 
 
 Miss Elton half repented accepting the 
 charge of such a child, especially when hear- 
 ing the noise of a great cavalcade in the street, 
 she looked out to see what was the matter, and 
 with amazement beheld the equestrians stop- 
 ping at her door. Accompanied by four bro- 
 thers and three uncles was Lotty, a little di- 
 minutive girl, on a spirited black pony, that 
 did not seem a whit the less wicked, though 
 it had come twenty miles. 
 
 Her father had been too much overcome to 
 bring her himself; so, to keep up her spirits, 
 a large concourse of affectionate Beauvilliers
 
 76 MARGARET 
 
 had assembled to escort her on her way. 
 Before reaching Bath, they had thought it 
 prudent and proper to suffer her to go 
 through the town with only a limited number, 
 which was fortunate for Miss Elton. She 
 little knew that about a dozen more Beau- 
 villiers were sorrowfully wending their way 
 home, after taking leave of their girl. 
 
 The four brothers and the three uncles were 
 all kindly invited in. 
 
 " No, we thank you heartily. If we do, 
 we shall never be able to leave her, so take 
 her out of our sight as soon as may be." 
 
 Passionately kissing Norman, her youngest 
 and favourite brother, who had leaped down 
 to take her off her pony, Lotty ran into the 
 house and disappeared from the sight of the 
 loving Beauvilliers. 
 
 When they overtook the others, many were 
 the anxious questions, " How she looked ?" 
 " What she said ?" and " Did she bear the 
 parting well?" They shook their heads
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 77 
 
 mournfully at every fresh detail, and then they 
 all disputed who was to lead Midge home. 
 
 " I, and I only," said Norman, " so catch 
 us if you can." 
 
 And with an inspiriting view r -halloo, away 
 he went over hill and dale, and led the Beau- 
 villiers such a chase, that they had no time 
 for any dismals, but arrived at Beau -court in 
 such elevated spirits, with so much to tell of 
 the exciting gallop, that Mr. Beauvilliers was 
 quite enlivened thereby.
 
 78 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Miss Elton had amused herself in picturing 
 to her mind what her new pupil would be 
 like, and this was the ideal she formed. 
 
 A ruddy-faced chubby girl of substantial 
 form, and Beauvillian stature, sweet-tempered, 
 or she would not be so loved ; somewhat 
 spoilt, or she would not have been spared to 
 school. A trifle hoyelenish, or the stress laid 
 upon feminine associates would not have been 
 so urgent. 
 
 She saw before her a little fair girl, looking 
 quite a child in her riding gear. As she 
 removed her hat she displayed eyes that amazed
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 79 
 
 Miss Elton with their size and brilliancy, and 
 before she could recover her astonishment, 
 the little thing gathered up her habit, and 
 passing her fingers through her thick, short 
 curls, she swept them off her forehead, and 
 approaching Miss Elton, said in a low, soft 
 voice — 
 
 " .Madam, you must try to love me, that 
 you may teach me well, because I wish to 
 return soon to my father." 
 
 " I shall be certain to love you," said Miss 
 Elton, irresistibly, as it were. 
 
 " I hope you will be certain, madam ; how 
 soon do the quickest and cleverest girls leave 
 school ?" 
 
 " At seventeen, I think," said Miss Elton, 
 who saw at a glance how matter-of-fact her 
 new pupil was. 
 
 " I shall try to learn everything you wish 
 me by the time I am sixteen. May I begin 
 
 11 Yes, dear ; but you must change your
 
 80 MARGARET 
 
 dress first. Your boxes came yesterday by 
 the waggon, and everything is ready for you." 
 
 " When I am dressed, madam, where shall 
 I find you?" 
 
 " I will send Millicent Erie for you." 
 
 " Is she one of my school-fellows ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Will she be kind to me ?" 
 
 " She is kind to every one." 
 
 " Then, madam, I shall be ready to come 
 down with her in half an hour." 
 
 " Will you have no one to help you?" 
 
 " Oh, no, madam ; papa would be ashamed 
 of his little girl if she could not do everything 
 for herself." 
 
 Lotty lifted up her large eyes to Miss Elton's 
 face with a serious, searching look. She 
 seemed satisfied with her scrutiny, and was 
 turning away, when Miss Elton stooped down 
 and kissed her. A smile came over the child's 
 face like a sunbeam. 
 
 " Thank you, madam," she said, and retired.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 81 
 
 Miss Elton was charmed, and during: the 
 half-hour she had to wait for Lotty's re- appear- 
 ance, was solely occupied in thinking of her. 
 
 " What intellect in that broad brow and 
 intelligent eyes ! what firmness expressed in 
 the mouth and chin ! she will be an extra- 
 ordinary woman." 
 
 Millicent went for her at the time appointed ; 
 and when she re-appeared with the new pupil, 
 about whom something wonderful had been 
 promulgated, all eyes were turned upon her. 
 Lotty's little black frock set off her fair skin to 
 great advantage. Her rebellious curls had been 
 vehemently brushed into some order, but were 
 breaking bounds all over her head, threaten- 
 ing to be in wild confusion shortly. Her 
 figure was round and plump, as a child's should 
 be, without being fat ; her features were pretty 
 and piquant, while her eyes were glorious. 
 Altogether, Lotty's appearance created a buzz 
 of satisfaction and admiration. She walked 
 straight up to Miss Elton, and in a confiding, 
 
 vol. I. g
 
 bZ MARGARET 
 
 childish way leant her head against her, to the 
 manifest astonishment of sundry girls, who had 
 an awe of Miss Elton profound and deep, ac- 
 cording to their various misdemeanours. Miss 
 Elton was surprised at the quickness of her 
 new pupil : Lotty imbibed knowledge like the 
 air she breathed. At five, after working hard, 
 Miss Elton said — 
 
 " Now you must go and play, for it is 
 wrong to work without relaxation." 
 
 For a moment Lotty looked troubled ; then 
 obeying Miss Elton's look, she took Millicent's 
 arm, and left the room with the other girls. 
 
 She stood aloof from them all, watching in 
 silent wonder their games, their bickerings, 
 their altercations. 
 
 One girl had fallen and cut herself, the 
 others passed heedlessly on. At that moment 
 a swift foot was heard; a lovely, rosy girl 
 sprang forward and raised her with gentle 
 words. " Margaret ! Margaret !" was uttered 
 joyfully by every one. " Margaret ! dear 
 Margaret !"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. S3 
 
 " How are you all ?" said Margaret ; " I 
 am so glad to see you ! Look, this is for you, 
 and you," she continued, dispensing packets 
 of sugarplums. "And who are you?" she 
 added, running up to Lotty with such a sweet, 
 glowing face, that she was quite amazed. 
 
 U I am Charlotte Beauvilliefs." - 
 
 " And I am Margaret Montagu ; and you 
 must take this kiss, because I brought you no 
 packet. I did not know you were here." 
 
 " I like the kiss best," said the truthful 
 Lotty ; " will you love me ?" 
 
 " Yes, dearly." 
 
 So thus began that famous friendship. 
 
 In time, Lotty grew just what her mother 
 meant school should make her — a happy, romp- 
 ing, school-girl, full of life, health, and spirits. 
 Her head and heart were not yet fitted for 
 hard trials : she would have done her dutv, 
 but probably sunk under the weight of too 
 much responsibility. 
 
 g 2
 
 S4 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 But we have forgotten the bride and bride- 
 
 D 
 
 groom. 
 
 They enjoyed their tour very much. Mar- 
 garet saw more of the world in that fortnight, 
 than she had done in her whole life, and 
 Harold (who, to tell the truth, was a little bit 
 blase) derived infinite amusement from her 
 unsophisticated happiness and delight. There 
 was something so new, fresh, and original to 
 him in all she did, that he thought he never 
 should be tired of such a companion. To be 
 sure, she was more girlish and simple than he 
 had imagined, but that was all the more 
 delightful, at least, so it seemed at present
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 
 
 In the mean time, a very different scene was 
 acting at Montagu House. Millicent and 
 Lotty had accompanied Sir Thomas and Lady 
 Montagu there after the marriage, to assist 
 them in their preparations for receiving their 
 darling Margaret as Lady Leigh. 
 
 During the five years that they had osten- 
 sibly lived at Bath, they always came during 
 the holidays, accompanied by such school 
 friends as Margaret selected, to Montagu 
 House. Millicent in particular, and Basil, w r ho 
 was asked to meet her, were frequent guests, 
 even during their grandfather's lifetime. For 
 he was a just man, and however faulty his son- 
 in-law might be, and however odious the wife 
 he had taken to replace his daughter ; yet he 
 would not suffer the children to be wholly 
 estranged from their father. 
 
 Erlscourt was, however, no place for Milli- 
 cent ; but at Montagu House she could now 
 and then see her father, and occasionally spend 
 a day with him.
 
 86 MARGARET 
 
 Xot that it could be any satisfaction to a 
 gentle, intelligent mind like hers, to see how 
 misrule reigned there, to say nothing worse. 
 A tribe of rude, unmannerly children, en- 
 couraged by Lady Erlscourt, and unrestrained 
 by their father, subjected the half-brother and 
 sister to many slights and indignities, to which 
 less indulgent and kind natures would not 
 have submitted. 
 
 Both Basil and Millicent tried, in their differ- 
 ent ways, to be on more affectionate terms 
 with their father's second family, and spared 
 no means to counteract the evil influence of 
 Lady Erlscourt. And amply rewarded did 
 they feel themselves, if in one or two they 
 found symptoms of a better nature, and they 
 willingly put up with their rudeness in the 
 hope of benefitting them. 
 
 Age and ill-doings had not improved either 
 Lord or Lady Erlscourt, since the time that 
 Basil had run away, and by this means re- 
 leased himself and his little sister.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 87 
 
 He was more morose, irritable, and un- 
 sociable than ever. 
 
 She had lost the beauty that had. raised her 
 to her present position, and was considerably 
 changed for the worse in every respect. In 
 one thing she remained unaltered ; her hatred 
 to her step-children only gained strength with 
 time. 
 
 Basil stood in the way of her own son becom- 
 ing Lord Erlscourt, while Millicent's beauty, 
 grace, and dignified manners, shone conspicuous 
 to the detriment of her own daughters. 
 
 Nevertheless, a semblance of interest and 
 affection was carried on, though most warmly 
 kept up on the part of the step-children. 
 
 Basil visited his father often, and was at his 
 command on all occasions, for the life Lord 
 Erlscourt led was beginning to tell upon him, 
 and it was often necessary to have such an 
 adviser as Basil at hand. Lady Erlscourt and 
 her numerous low relatives were on the watch 
 to take any advantage they could gain. This
 
 8S MARGARET 
 
 her husband knew ; and not so much out of 
 love for his son, as to spite her, he did nothing 
 without that son's advice. 
 
 The disinterested, highly-principled conduct 
 of Basil ought to have won him their best 
 affections, that is, if they were worth having. 
 But a nature like hers, conld not understand, 
 and a heart like Lord Erlscourt's could not 
 appreciate such conduct. 
 
 Millicent saw them twice a year, during the 
 holidays which she was purposely asked to 
 spend at Montagu House. Just before her 
 grandfather's death, she had been engaged to 
 be married to a dear friend of her brother's, 
 Gerald Herbert ; but after this death, as was 
 intimated before, their trials began. Milli- 
 cent's marriage was peremptorily broken off, 
 and she was again sent to school. Not that 
 any objection could be made to the match, or 
 to the object of her affections ; but it was 
 simply the old spirit, that had so cruelly 
 crushed her childhood's happiness, again break-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 89 
 
 ing forth, on finding her once more in its 
 power. 
 
 Basil, after enduring a series of conduct, 
 disgusting from its mean vulgarity, and irri- 
 tating from its excessive spite, had left the 
 home he had wished to find with his father, 
 and gone abroad. 
 
 But to return to Sir Thomas and Lady 
 Montagu. They have arrived at their desti- 
 nation. Old Sir Thomas finds himself better, 
 warmer, more at home in his old velvet-covered 
 chair, in the ancient library, with its blazing 
 wood fire. 
 
 Lady Montagu is busy upstairs. She is not 
 looking to see that their own rooms are neat 
 and well aired, and everything as it ought to 
 be : no, she is in the state bed-chamber, and 
 she is already ordering fires to be lit, and the 
 grand old embroidered satin coverlid to be 
 brought out. 
 
 In fact, though she does not expect her for 
 a week, she is preparing for the coming of 
 Lady Leigh.
 
 90 MARGARET 
 
 Lotty is at the window, partly thinking how 
 glorious the trees look in their autumn beauty, 
 and partly, whether her school-wife finds 
 Harold as good a husband as she was. 
 
 Lotty has grown a little, not much. The 
 Beauvilliers say to each other, " She is very 
 young, we must not expect to see her very tall 
 as yet." 
 
 Lotty has never forgotten her mother's 
 words. Though she is such a wild, mad thing 
 at times, with spirits that nothing seems to 
 tame, she finds out what her duty is, and 
 does it. 
 
 Millicent is in the conservatory. She hears 
 her name whispered in a broken voice. She 
 looks up. — Can this be Basil ? 
 
 Weary, travel-stained, and pale as he ap- 
 peared, that was nothing to the haggard wild- 
 ness in his eyes, his restless, despairing look. 
 
 "Dearest brother!" said Millicent, springing 
 to his side. 
 
 " Sister, my sister ! the only thing I have 
 left to love !" said Basil in hollow tones.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 91 
 
 " Basil, speak not thus, I implore you. 
 What has happened ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Millicent, did you not guess my 
 secret? Could you not have guarded my 
 treasure for me ? God help me ! for vain is 
 the help of man ; or take me .to himself, for 
 my burden is too great to bear." 
 
 The truth flashed on Millicent's mind. 
 
 " Basil, you were wrong not to tell me, to 
 trust me. I conceived nothing of what I too 
 plainly see now — alas ! alas ! too late !" 
 
 " I know it is too late. I hurried home on 
 the receipt of your letter, telling me that the 
 marriage was to take place. I hastened home, 
 not, Milly to serve myself, but that most lovely, 
 innocent, gentle spirit. I know Sir Harold by 
 report only ; but oh ! Millicent, he is not the 
 husband she should have. Generous and kind- 
 hearted I know he is ; but she is such a child, 
 she has such a gentle, timid heart ; if he does 
 not find the way to it, if he speaks but an un- 
 kind word, he will crush it, wound it, break it.
 
 92 MARGARET 
 
 Ah ! Milly, Milly, did you not know that I 
 loved Margaret more than my life ? that I 
 only refrained from telling her so, because of 
 her youth and innocence ?" 
 
 u No, dearest Basil, no, I never guessed it. 
 You have been, so much together since she was 
 the little gentle child of seven years old. I 
 traced nothing but the love that had always 
 passed between you. Besides, I was with 
 Isabel at the sea-side the last holidays." 
 
 " True, most true," murmured Basil. " To 
 the lone forest only did I whisper my hopes 
 and wishes. During the long silent nights, 
 under the arching boughs, with no spectator 
 but the quiet, gentle moon, did I utter vows 
 to make the happiness of that lovely being 
 my one care and pleasure. Oh ! Margaret, 
 Margaret, lost to me ! and still more lost am I ; 
 thus dreaming, thus speaking, and thou the 
 wife of another." 
 
 Shocked to see that strong, nervous frame 
 shaken like a timid child's, still more shocked
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 93 
 
 at the grief and despair which seemed to have 
 upset that high and noble heart, Millicent 
 could but kiss the fevered brow, and clasp the 
 wringing hands. 
 
 " He will not understand her delicate, 
 shrinking nature, apparently timid and weak, 
 but strong in its purposes of love and un- 
 selfishness ; and she is so young, but a child 
 yet, to be moulded into the intelligent, just- 
 thinking, high-principled woman. I know her, 
 ah ! so well. Let a check be given to the 
 efforts her own heart will prompt her to make, 
 and that heart will close, and preying upon 
 itself, will break perhaps, and die, but never 
 open again, to aught save love and con- 
 fidence/' 
 
 " Basil, my brother," murmured Millicent, 
 in low, soft tones, " we are not to meet our 
 mother but through much tribulation, I pray 
 God to give you strength to bear this burden. 
 You have much to live for yet. Our house to 
 redeem from perdition, our people and lands
 
 94 MARGARET 
 
 to save from destruction. Think, Basil, for 
 one moment, think what we should be with- 
 out you." 
 
 " Give me time, sister, give me time. But 
 you know me well enough to believe that I 
 will not bear this shame upon my heart and 
 live. Give me but time. I will now go to 
 the keeper's house in the forest ; I will take 
 possession of my rooms there; I will bury 
 myself and my grief in the heart of the woods. 
 Pray for me, Millicent ; pray that I may leave 
 it there, and return to you, blighted, indeed, 
 but with a firm purpose to do my duty, as be- 
 comes a man and a Christian. I think, yes, 
 sister, I half think, if I know that she is 
 happy, I may die content." 
 
 He buried his face in his hands, and the 
 strong manly frame shook with emotion. 
 
 "Oh, my Basil ! may I not come with you ? 
 may I not devote myself to you, and you 
 only ?" 
 
 " No, Millv, no ! I must be alone ; and I
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 95 
 
 beseech you, sister, tell no one that you have 
 seen me, or that I have returned to England. 
 You shall hear from me constantly ; I shall 
 write, yes, perhaps, daily. But give me time, 
 Milly, give me time, and leave me alone to 
 wrestle with my sorrow." 
 
 He folded her in his arms with a hasty but 
 fond embrace, and was gone before she could 
 utter one word to detain him. 
 
 It was some time before she could calm her- 
 self sufficiently to return to the library. Lotty 
 was still watching the various changes in the 
 lovely landscape, as it lay sloping before the 
 windows, bathed in glowing sunshine; Sir 
 Thomas was dozing, and Lady Montagu read- 
 ing. 
 
 " Come,' 5 said Lotty, as Millicent entered, 
 c< and watch these rooks ; they seem bent upon 
 some extraordinary quaint business." 
 
 As Millicent joined her, she continued, in a 
 voice hardly to be heard at the other end of 
 the room, " How is Basil ?"
 
 96 MARGARET 
 
 " What do you know about him ?" said 
 Milly, in amazement, and evasively. 
 
 " I mean, how did he bear it ?" said Lotty. 
 
 " Bear what ? Lotty, you are an enigma." 
 
 " No, that I am not ; I am straightforward 
 enough. Is poor Basil in great distress ?" 
 
 " How did you know he was here ?" 
 
 " I did not know at all, but I had an idea 
 he would come, and I see a man's glove 
 lying on the lawn. Now, it is not Sir Tho- 
 mas's, gardeners do not generally wear gloves, 
 so I concluded it to be Basil's." 
 
 " Lotty, Lotty, you are too quick for me to 
 deceive you. Basil has, indeed, been here, 
 that is, the ghost of Basil. Ah, my Lotty ! 
 never did I see such a change." 
 
 " Come, do not take on so ; I dare say he 
 wished no one to know he is here, so let us go 
 into the dear old forest, then you shall tell me 
 everything, and cry at your leisure — it will do 
 you good." 
 
 Milly looked with surprise at the little
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 97 
 
 school-girl by her side, and, when they were 
 fairly out of the house, said, "Little Lotty, 
 tell me how you know all these things that you 
 seem to know ?'" 
 
 " Nobody told me, but I guessed. I am 
 fifteen, and, Miss Elton says, quite learned 
 enough to leave school next year. However, I 
 love Margaret, and I love Basil ; I think he is 
 a man, in the true sense of the word, fit to take 
 upon himself the care of such a creature as 
 Margaret. He is loving, yet manly ; gentle, 
 yet firm ; good, yet forbearing. I like Basil 
 very much, and if he had married Margaret, 
 I would have been bridesmaid; that is, I 
 think I would, for I do not approve of marry- 
 ing. 
 
 " And why, little one, did you deem it ne- 
 cessary to have any ideas on the subject ?" 
 
 " Why should I not ? Did Flory and Carry 
 think of aught else ? to say nothing of Au- 
 gusta. They believed me to be a safe listener, 
 ignorant and innocent, so I heard all, and drew 
 
 vol. i. h
 
 98 MARGARET 
 
 my conclusions. If any man marries you, he 
 will do well. If Basil had married Margaret, 
 they would have been happy ; now, she will 
 not, without a great deal of sorrow first. If 
 any one marries Mory, he will have a mischief- 
 making, gossiping wife, and that is not good. 
 If anybody marries Carry, he might just as 
 well have some old, fat, child- spoiling nurse 
 for a wife, which is also not good. And if any 
 fool marries Augusta — but is there such a fool 
 in the world ? I think not. Lastly, if any 
 one wants to marry me" — here Lotty drew 
 herself up — " he will repent it. So you see, 
 out of all of us, I deem only one fit to be 
 married." 
 
 Lotty chatted on thus, to divert her compa- 
 nion's mind. 
 
 " You are certainly very quick-witted, my 
 Lotty," said Millicent. 
 
 " About men, I am," said Lotty ; " because 
 I live with them so much. But all my bro- 
 thers, and uncles, and cousins are true Beau-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 99 
 
 villians — they all make good husbands ; and I 
 wish, Milly, you would think of marrying 
 Norman, instead of Gerald." 
 
 " Lbtty l M 
 
 " Well, do not look so indignant ! There, 
 now, that has done you good, getting in a 
 rage ; no, rage I cannot call it, but getting 
 put out with me. Now, come, pray tell me, 
 how is Basil ?" 
 
 " Heart-broken, Lotty." 
 
 "Not quite, I hope. Where has he hid 
 himself ? I suppose at the old keeper's cot- 
 tage." 
 
 " Lotty, you are a little witch." 
 
 " No, only sharp. But could you not ima- 
 gine to yourself that, buried in the heart of 
 the forest, with nothing but the grand old 
 boles of the trees, and the beautiful, spiritual 
 tracery of the branches all around you, with a 
 pale star gleaming here and there, like the 
 pitying eye of an angel, you could there lay 
 your sorrowful heart before the Almighty, and
 
 100 MARGARET 
 
 be sure that the pitying eyes would bear the 
 bruised thing to heaven." 
 
 " My Lotty ! how unlike the wild Lotty 
 you talk." 
 
 " But why should I not feel, especially for 
 those I love ? Basil will talk to his beloved 
 forest, he will pour out his griefs in her lonely, 
 dark bosom, and return to us with the light 
 and the sun ; but he will never love any one 
 but Margaret. And now, see the rooks are 
 wheeling about, preparatory to a flight to their 
 dormitories ; we must fly home, too, or we 
 shall lose our dinners. You must not fret ; 
 you cannot unmarry Margaret. I never ap- 
 proved of the marriage, mind ; let Basil sur- 
 feit himself with grief, he will then begin to 
 think of the dearest of sisters, and be com- 
 forted." 
 
 " But; Lotty, you surprise me so ; but now 
 you were the little, wild school-girl, coming to 
 me for advice on every occasion : our posi- 
 tions seem to me reversed."
 
 AND HER. BRIDESMAIDS. 101 
 
 " That is because your kind heart is so 
 grieved and disturbed for Basil ; your usual 
 judgment and sense are clouded. Now, I, 
 caring for nothing and nobody, think calmly 
 and with reason." 
 
 " Caring for nothing and nobody, Lotty ?" 
 "Yes, since I have lost Margaret. But, 
 however, do not fear that our reversed posi- 
 tions will be permanent ; take your place 
 again, be the loved, honoured, adored Milli- 
 cent, and I will be once more Charlotte Beau- 
 villiers."
 
 102 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Margaret passed her father's threshold like 
 a sunbeam. Surely they had forgotten, even 
 in that short time, that she was so lovely, fresh, 
 and blooming; or were her natural perfec- 
 tions doubled, as she stood by the side of 
 her handsome, distinguished-looking husband, 
 blushing and smiling under the glance of his 
 beaming eyes? To herself she seemed doubled j 
 another heart was hers, another life and exist- 
 ence bound with her life. Twofold were her 
 sources of pleasure and happiness ; she had yet 
 to realize that twofold might be her sorrows. 
 
 The partial dotage into which Sir Thomas
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 103 
 
 had fallen, through grief at the loss of his 
 daughter, and fear lest they had not done 
 wisely by their Margaret, gave way before the 
 delight of her presence, the sunny halo she 
 diffused around her. Each night he confided 
 to the equally-pleased mother, " I think we 
 did right to let our Margaret marry ;" and 
 each night she answered in return, " God bless 
 her sweet beaming face, may we die ere we 
 see it changed !" 
 
 Little Lotty was very unpleasant all this 
 time, and so far from suffering Margaret to 
 hold her former place in her time and affec- 
 tions, was continually to be seen in a biting, 
 sarcastic, acrimonious mood, which had, among 
 her school-fellows, gained her the name of 
 "Bear." 
 
 At a certain hour, every day, she would 
 mount her pony, and, in sulky silence, start off 
 alone for the forest ; and though some secret 
 signs might pass between her and Millicent, 
 the Beauvillian blood was not in a mood to
 
 104 MARGARET 
 
 submit to any questioning. That she rode 
 some distance, and at a good pace, might be 
 judged from the state of her steed when she 
 returned, but nothing more definite could be 
 obtained of her doings. 
 
 " Indeed, Lotty," said Margaret, one day, 
 " I think you are very unkind to me ; your 
 holidays 'are nearly over, and, perhaps, when 
 you are again at liberty, I may not be here." 
 
 " You will not miss me, I dare say ; you 
 have Harold," returned Lotty. 
 
 "But I shall miss you, my little school- 
 husband ; and do you imagine, because I am 
 married, that every other feeling is absorbed ? 
 unkind little bear !" 
 
 " When every other word you say is * Ha- 
 rold/ I do not know how Lotty is to be 
 considered." 
 
 " You know my first duty is to him, and 
 all my first wishes should be : nevertheless, 
 there is no reason why we are to love each 
 other less."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 105 
 
 " I did not approve of the marriage from 
 the first," retorted Lotty ; " it is so absurd 
 of girls to go and marry when they do not 
 quite know their own minds, and at all events, 
 have not lost all their girlisms, and become 
 reasonable women." 
 
 " I do not know that you ever found me 
 unreasonable, Lotty." 
 
 C( Xo ; I should be very glad for you if I 
 thought you were likely to become unreason- 
 able now and then, for I am sure it would 
 do Harold good." 
 
 "How?" said the loyal young wife, her 
 cheek flushing. 
 
 " Because he has been accustomed to have 
 everything so much his own way, that he will 
 become a victim to ennui, unless you give him 
 a little trouble. If he had been wise enough 
 to marry Augusta, he would have been in hot 
 water all his life, and all the better for it." 
 
 Tears filled the soft eyes, so lately Lotty 's 
 pride and delight.
 
 106 MARGARET 
 
 " Oh, Margaret ! Margaret ! don't cry ! 
 how can you care for what your wild Lotty 
 says r 
 
 " But I do care, how can I help it ? I know 
 you only say what you feel." 
 
 " Then, my Queen Margaret, remember 
 what I say : it is not good to let a man see 
 how much you love him, or how great his 
 power is over you. If he has a mean mind, 
 he will take advantage thereof; if he has a 
 generous, kind heart like Harold's, he will not 
 think the better of you for always deferring to 
 his opinion, he will forget to ' give and take/ 
 ' bear and forbear/ Do not let him think 
 that you are a love-sick school-girl. Hus- 
 bands now-a-days, and all days, I imagine, 
 want some other qualities in their wives be- 
 side love, Margaret." 
 
 " I doubt I am nothing better, Lotty. I 
 feel great purposes within me, but they are all 
 love, and nothing else." 
 
 " Then all I can say is, Harold is very
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 107 
 
 happy to have such love, and I hope it will do 
 you both a great deal of good." 
 
 " I must say, I have been highly edified 
 with this lecture on matrimony," said Milli- 
 cent, coming forward ; " and really wonder, 
 do not you, Margaret, where little Lotty picks 
 up her experience ?" 
 
 Lotty pouted. 
 
 " I shall be curious to see how she conducts 
 herself when a wife, shall not you, Margaret ?" 
 continued Milly. 
 
 " I think she will be the best little wife in 
 the world," said Margaret, her kind heart 
 feeling for Lotty's discomposure. 
 
 " Have you the letter ready ?" said the 
 little Bear to Millicent, " for it is time I 
 should go." 
 
 " Where do you go, Lotty ?" said Margaret. 
 
 "She is a messenger for me, dear Meg," 
 said Milly ; " but I shall not send to-day, 
 Lotty, dear, that you may be as much with 
 Margaret as possible." As she spoke, a car-
 
 108 MARGARET 
 
 riage, evidently from Erlscourt, drove furiously 
 up to the door. With the certainty that it 
 could only be the bearer of some bad tidings, 
 Millicent and her companions hastily left the 
 room to learn the reason. 
 
 Lord Erlscourt had met with some sad 
 accident, such as precluded, so Basil's hasty 
 letter said, any hopes of a favourable recovery. 
 In fact, if she wished to see her father again, 
 she mast return to Erlscourt in the carriage 
 sent for her. 
 
 It needed no further persuasion to decide 
 Millicent ; in a few minutes she was ready. 
 Lotty obtained permission to accompany her • 
 it was well she had that faithful little com- 
 forter, for the scene at Erlscourt was much 
 more trying and painful than any imagination 
 of hers could picture. The ungodly, dying 
 father, the selfish, upbraiding wife, the unruly, 
 riotous children, all formed a scene so painful 
 and disgusting, that nothing but the firm 
 determination to. do their duty, supported the 
 brother and sister.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS, 109 
 
 Basil besought Millicent to make no in- 
 quiries concerning the cause of the accident ; 
 while she, in tenderness to him, refrained from 
 thinking of aught else than assisting him. 
 
 The surgeons had announced their inability 
 to hold out any hopes of life, while the bat- 
 tered, bruised appearance of their patient, his 
 squalid, soiled clothes, and bloated, sullen 
 visage, too plainly showed that a drunken 
 broil with people much beneath him, had given 
 a rascal's death and felon's end to a peer of 
 the realm. And yet this was not so sad to 
 see, as the rude, grasping determination with 
 which his wife and her relatives crowded round 
 the dying bed, with indecorous haste and 
 greediness, to get words, if not deeds, ex- 
 ecuted in their favour. In vain Millicent, 
 seated by her father's pillow, appalled by the 
 fierce oaths and imprecations that fell from 
 lips that ought to have been praying, besought 
 them to leave him in peace. The words and 
 threats they dare not bestow on him, were
 
 110 MARGARET 
 
 showered on herself. Basil, seated on the 
 other side bathing his father's hot temples, 
 said nothing; he knew that to speak would 
 be to raise the storm still higher. The dying 
 father looked at his eldest son and daughter, 
 the pitying eyes of each were fixed on him 
 with unmistakable love and devotion; their 
 fair hair, so silky and wavy, so like their 
 mother's, gave them the appearance of angels 
 amid the group of dark, lowering faces. He 
 feebly waved his hand to enforce silence, and 
 in a distinct, clear voice, said — 
 
 "I leave everything of which I die pos- 
 sessed to my son Basil." 
 
 The head drooped, the jaw fell — Lord Erls- 
 court was dead.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Some months passed away. 
 
 Sir Harold and Lady Leigh had departed 
 for Court Leigh, leaving the kind and loving 
 old parents happy in the society of a daughter- 
 in-law and two fine grandchildren, and still 
 more happy in the prospect of seeing their 
 Margaret again at Christmas. 
 
 Lotty was once more at school ; she had 
 neither eyes nor ears for anything but good 
 hard study. Miss Elton half repented the 
 concession she had made, that she should leave 
 school at sixteen ; one more year there, and 
 Lotty would have all the learning Miss Elton
 
 ]12 MARGARET 
 
 was capable of imparting, at her fingers' ends. 
 Already she was much above every girl in the 
 school. No study tired her, no intricacies 
 puzzled her. But Lotty had ceased to be the 
 merry school-girl ; Augusta had left school, 
 and it was reported she was going to be mar- 
 ried to a rich London banker, an M.P. : but 
 time went on, still neither cake nor wedding 
 favours arrived. 
 
 Carry and Flory are both to leave school 
 next half, being two very pretty, ignorant, 
 conceited, happy, school-girls. Millicent is 
 with her brother deep in the forest, dwelling 
 together in the old Forest House. But she is 
 happy ; sometimes alone with Basil, sometimes 
 accompanied in her walks and rides by a fitting 
 mate for such beauty and gentleness as hers. 
 
 She is to be married in the spring ; that was 
 Basil's first act and deed, as was fitting it 
 should be. And Basil himself ? 
 
 In those dark-blue eyes there is a shadow, 
 the beautiful head with its clustering curls of
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 113 
 
 fair hair droops, the fine athletic frame falters, 
 but only when alone. 
 
 As his father died with those words upon 
 his lips that left Basil heir to everything, there 
 also fell a conviction upon his mind that he 
 was responsible for everything. 
 
 Assuming at once the position he meant to 
 keep, which, spite his youth and inexperience, 
 all could see he would keep, Basil dismissed 
 peremptorily, for ever, the rude and riotous 
 companions his father had so unfortunately 
 encouraged : leaving all unnoticed the gibes 
 and sneers that followed all his actions, the 
 taunts that were showered on him, because his 
 father's funeral was performed with the utmost 
 privacy and quietness. It needed but little 
 time to show, that the young Lord Erlscourt 
 knew what he ought to do, and did it. Per- 
 haps the hardest duty he had to perform was 
 with Lady Erlscourt. But she, in her turn, 
 discovered that vituperative threats, beseech- 
 ings, and entreaties, were alike unavailing 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 114 MARGARET 
 
 with the present head of the house. Besides, 
 her best policy was to be friends, for other- 
 wise she and her children were beggars. The 
 old lord, wicked as he had been, knew the 
 value of a character like Basil's, and felt that 
 he left his wife and second family in the safest 
 hands, when he left them in his son's. 
 
 As soon as Basil found that Lady Erlscourt 
 could be reasonable, he, with the delicacy of a 
 good and great mind, opened his plans to her, 
 as if for consultation between them. And 
 she found that although she had only the sem- 
 blance of a choice, yet she could not but feel 
 that she little deserved the good fortune her 
 step-son was preparing for her. 
 
 It was absolutely necessary for the well- 
 being of the estate that Erlscourt should be 
 cleared of its late inhabitants. Basil felt that 
 no efforts of his could remove the base influ- 
 ence of the late reign, so long as ever one of 
 the old domestics was allowed to remain. 
 
 Lady Erlscourt would have remonstrated,
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 115 
 
 had she dared, on Basil's determination to shut 
 the castle up for a term of years ; but he 
 allowed her so handsome a sum to hire a house 
 in London, Bath, or any other town, that she 
 could say nothing ; further sums were given 
 her, but all at Basil's free command, upon her 
 fulfilling certain conditions regarding her chil- 
 dren. The two eldest girls were to be sent to 
 school ; he undertook the expense of edu- 
 cating the boys himself; this arrangement 
 would leave her a little girl to be a com- 
 panion at home. 
 
 In everything to secure the respectability of 
 his half brothers and sisters, Basil acted with 
 the wisdom of an older head, and the ge- 
 nerosity of a noble mind. 
 
 He fitted up the old Forest House, and 
 having cared for them all, and established them 
 all as he wished, he waited but the end of 
 their mourning to make the patient Millicent 
 happy, happy in the love and confidence of a 
 
 i 2
 
 116 MARGARET 
 
 heart most worthy of her : to give her such hap- 
 piness as was never to be his. 
 
 True, he had many duties before him, and he 
 would taste the rare happiness of doing good, 
 and reaping the fruits thereof. He had the 
 hard, and yet most pleasing duty of improving 
 his estates, reforming his tenantry, repairing 
 the rack and ruin of the last reign, and was 
 young enough to feel assured that, in all pro- 
 bability, he would see the benefits of his 
 labours. Was there no pleasure in these pros- 
 pects, in these hopes ? There was. 
 
 Basil again said to himself, 
 
 " If I only know that the gentle angel who 
 so early crossed my path of life is happy, I 
 shall live content."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 117 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Court Leigh was a very fine old place : 
 quaint and curious were its angles, courts, and 
 turrets, with casement windows of all sizes 
 and shapes, scarcely two alike. Myrtle trees 
 crept up to the higher windows, cut and 
 trimmed with such old-fashioned precision, 
 that the eyes lingered lovingly on a wild creep- 
 ing rose, which sent its thousand clusters of 
 scented blossoms in every direction. Down 
 by the lower windows, it grew with the grave 
 decorum that seemed to pervade the place ; 
 but up out of reach, it threw its graceful 
 branches in wild confusion over the staid
 
 118 MARGARET 
 
 myrtles, peeping out here and there, when 
 least expected, every bright blossom laughing, 
 as in sport, that no pruning knife could reach 
 them. 
 
 The stately pleasaunce of olden time was 
 not wanting, leading to an avenue of walnut 
 trees ; this was again crossed by one of elms, 
 and farther in the distance was a double 
 avenue of gnarled old oaks ; magnificent trees, 
 many centuries old, leading the imagination 
 to wonder if they ever could have been young, 
 tender saplings, so old, so grey, so venerable 
 did they appear. 
 
 Near the house was a stately parterre of 
 Howers, with clipped yew trees at regular dis- 
 tances, and little summer-houses at each 
 corner. 
 
 Not a dead leaf to be seen, not a twig dis- 
 placed, not a branch out of order. Lovely as 
 the old house looked in the evening sunset, 
 yet said Margaret to herself, " What a formal 
 old garden !"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 119 
 
 Lady Katherine Leigh, with the gentle and 
 quiet Pru. and Pro., were there to greet the 
 newly-married pair, and while the bride felt 
 that nothing could be meant more kindly, the 
 formality of her reception matched the garden. 
 
 Between a small lane of servants, Lady 
 Katherine advanced, and restraining, by her 
 solemn manner, Margaret's gentle impulse of 
 affection, made a sort of oration over her, 
 which visibly affected Pru. and Pro. and some 
 of the stately maidens, while Harold inwardly 
 chafed, and suppressed tittering might have 
 been heard from among the younger servants. 
 She was about to perform the same ceremony 
 over her son ; but taking his mother's arm in 
 his, he led her into the drawing-room before 
 she had time to say a word. 
 
 " My son, my dear son ! on such an oc- 
 casion, it was proper I should say a few 
 words." 
 
 " Dearest mother, I am so fatigued," said 
 Harold, throwing himself listlessly on the sofa.
 
 120 MARGARET 
 
 " A few words, my dear son, were expected 
 of me ; I had prepared them." 
 
 " I kiss your hands, dear mother, and ask 
 for permission to have some soda water.' ' 
 
 Lady Katherine was not to be put down in 
 this way ; Harold had his soda water, shared 
 half with his dear Meg, drew her on to the 
 sofa by his side, and then felt he might listen 
 patiently. 
 
 So he had it all two or three times over, 
 with the action intended for each point ; and 
 while he might weary at his mother's prolixity > 
 he felt thankful this scene, copied from some 
 act of the blessed Queen Charlotte's, was en- 
 acted before so small an audience. Three out 
 of the four certainly listening with devout and 
 reverent attention, not to say admiration. 
 
 Lady Katherine was a very kind-hearted, 
 good, woman, but not by any means a sen- 
 sible one. 
 
 Let an idea once gain entrance into her 
 brain, it remained there stereotyped ; no ac-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 121 
 
 cidental circumstance, no change of events, 
 altered that idea ; it became fixed in her mind 
 n the original state in which it entered. She 
 had married late in life herself, indeed she was 
 nearly forty before that event took place, con- 
 sequently she had not undergone the ordeal of a 
 new life, or a new change of ideas, when the 
 mind was young and plastic ; she had there- 
 fore no idea of change — variety was incon- 
 ceivable. Whether her opinions and habits 
 agreed with old Sir Harold Leigh's, might 
 have been questioned had they lived long 
 together ; but having ample reason to be 
 satisfied with the discretion and care with 
 which she ruled his house, the stateliness with 
 which she presided at the head of his table, 
 and the excellence of her cuisine ; he managed 
 to live very happily for eight years with a 
 woman who was certainly intended by edu- 
 cation, if not by nature, for an old maid, 
 rather than a wife and mother. 
 
 On becoming a widow, Lady Katherine 

 
 122 MARGARET 
 
 assumed an extra portion of reserve and state. 
 Everything was conducted after the manner 
 of a small court ; whereof Lady Katherine was 
 Queen, the pretty little erect ladies, Georgina 
 and Charlotte, were princesses, and a rosy, 
 curly-pated, baby boy, the heir apparent. 
 
 Under this stiff, but kind rule, formal but 
 gentle sway, no wonder Georgina and Char- 
 lotte changed into Prudence and Propriety. 
 
 Harold" of course went to school, from 
 school to college, from college into the army, 
 ever bearing a deferential and dutiful feeling 
 towards his mother, while each change of 
 scene and place the more unfitted him for 
 the sombre pleasures of his home. 
 
 It never entered Lady Katherine's head that 
 a young man ought to have something to do ; 
 she could not expect the fine, handsome, lively 
 boy to sit down, knit or knot, play quadrille 
 or cribbage, evening after evening, from week 
 to week, year to year, as the dutiful and 
 patient Georgina and Charlotte did. But still
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 123 
 
 she could not suffer such an act as that he 
 should go shooting with keepers, hunting with 
 farmers, fishing with strangers. She suffered 
 prodigious anxieties, trying to think of some 
 employment for him, having some faint re- 
 membrances of idle hands and Satan's mischief, 
 which tormented her, without her being able 
 to discover why it did so. She ransacked the 
 old library for proper, and at the same time 
 reasonably entertaining, books for him ; she 
 even learned backgammon to please him; 
 though Pru. and Pro. were sent to the other 
 end of the room when they played, that their 
 innocent minds might not even know the look 
 of dice. Nevertheless Harold's holidays always 
 cost her a fit of illness, and the termination 
 of them was generally highly agreeable to all 
 parties, though they loved each other warmly. 
 As Harold grew older, he would have liked 
 to employ the many hours he spent over idle 
 stories, novels, or travels, or that he lounged 
 away with his dogs, or slept, or ate away, in
 
 1 24 MARGARET 
 
 riding over his estates, and becoming ac- 
 quainted with his tenantry. 
 
 But that was quite forbidden, was con- 
 sidered about the last thing he ought to do ; 
 in fact, everything regarding business, all the 
 duties and obligations of landlord and tenant, 
 were carefully kept from him, not from any 
 other feeling than that Lady Katherine had 
 been taught to consider there was an in- 
 superable bar between the rich and the poor. 
 
 They had an agent or steward — he was the 
 proper person to manage such things ; but for 
 Sir Harold to know that he had tenants who 
 had wants, or for them to know that they had a 
 landlord who would himself attend to such 
 wants, was deemed by Lady Katherine a thing 
 unknown, unheard of. 
 
 So from his childhood, Harold had many 
 idle, weary, listless days, wherein he had no- 
 thing to do, nothing in which to be interested. 
 
 This had imparted to his character a sort of 
 indolent independence of any thing not pe-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 125 
 
 culiarly interesting; torpor of mind would 
 accompany torpor of body ; and though on 
 occasion he could readily throw off both, and 
 appear the frank, generous, intelligent fellow 
 he really was, yet he as readily gave way to 
 the dolce far niente, and was at the time of 
 his marriage as useless and uninteresting a 
 member of society, as a rich young baronet 
 could be allowed to be. 
 
 Nevertheless he was the cynosure of the 
 loveliest, softest eyes, the loadstone of the 
 warmest, gentlest heart this erring world can 
 give. 
 
 Though no one was present save themselves, 
 Lady Katherine had deemed it proper to have 
 a grand banquet prepared ; all the rich old 
 family plate, all the rare old china, and drapery 
 marvellous for age, beauty, and fineness of 
 texture, were displayed. 
 
 But Margaret was thinking so much of 
 Harold, so far from her at the bottom of the 
 great table, yawning and looking vexed, that
 
 126 . MARGARET 
 
 she noticed but little of all this grandeur. 
 They went through the long stately dinner in 
 a dignified manner certainly ; Lady Katherine 
 prosed to her heart's content ; Pru. and Pro. 
 feebly chirped, now and then, little staid sen- 
 tences ; Harold was almost silent, and Mar- 
 garet was fast catching the chirping tone, in 
 her efforts to comport herself to Lady Kathe- 
 rine's satisfaction. 
 
 When at last the weary dinner was over, 
 and the servants were withdrawn, Harold 
 jumped up with some degree of energy, and 
 protesting he would be banished no longer, 
 seated himself in the old-fashioned window, 
 where Margaret with joyful alacrity joined him. 
 She looked very much inclined to seat herself 
 upon a loved knee, that looked an invitation 
 most indisputably ; but awe of Lady Katherine 
 prevented that indecorum ; still one little white 
 hand did nestle coaxingly in the luxuriant hair, 
 so dark, so rich. 
 
 "My dear/' said Lady Katherine, "pray
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 127 
 
 do not ; remember there are young people in 
 the room ; I cannot permit Georgiana and 
 Charlotte to witness such — " 
 
 " Dear mother, may not my wife pull about 
 my locks ?" said Harold. 
 
 " Certainly not, I never heard of such a 
 thing ; should any servant have occasion to 
 enter, pray, my dear son, what would they 
 think ?" 
 
 " Servants have no business to think, 
 mother," said Harold yawning. 
 
 " Shall we go out, Harold ?" whispered 
 Margaret. 
 
 " Yes, by Jove we will ! any place is better 
 than this banquet-scented room." 
 
 "Pray, my dear son and daughter, be 
 seated. I have much to say to you, Harold ; 
 as a mother, it is my duty to give you some 
 advice on your conduct as a married man, and 
 the head of your family." 
 
 Harold sat down without a word certainly, 
 but with an expression in his face Margaret 
 had never seen before.
 
 iZb MARGARET 
 
 Lady Katherine recapitulated her speech 
 before dinner, with sundry other remarks, 
 which altogether drew the discourse into such 
 a length, that Harold was convicted of a snore 
 in one of the most interesting parts. Apolo- 
 gising in sincerity for his rudeness, Harold 
 declared he must go out, for the journey and 
 the length of the dinner had fatigued him in a 
 great degree. He disappeared in such a hurry 
 that Margaret had not even time to obtain a 
 glance. She was too timid to dare to think 
 of accompanying him, so she followed the 
 stately and rather offended old lady into the 
 great drawing-room, with an air as meek and 
 obedient as her two daughters. 
 
 There they sat for two long hours, doing 
 nothing but listen to the old lady's numerous 
 and rather confused stories of her court life ; 
 — while Margaret heard the step she loved 
 best in the world, pacing up and down before 
 the windows, smelt the faintest scent of a 
 cigar, and heard the low humming of a voice, 
 that was music to her.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 129 
 
 Yet she felt it very wrong and treacherous 
 of her to feel tired, weary, and forlorn, and not 
 even the admiring glances and timid whispers 
 of affection from her new sisters, could make 
 up for the hearing that measured tread. With 
 tea, came the truant, much refreshed, and very 
 eloquent in his praise of the beauty of the 
 night. 
 
 Then remarking the pale looks of his wife, 
 he recommended her to go to bed, whither the 
 kind Pru. conducted her, and the more active 
 Pro. ran on before, to see all was as it should 
 be. 
 
 In the warm, simple affection they gave her, 
 Margaret did not take further notice of their 
 childish pleasure and girlish questions, than 
 to imagine that they were adapting their man- 
 ners to her school-girl habits ; and she loved 
 them all the more for their goodness to her. 
 
 Lady Katherine had sense enough to know, 
 and good-nature enough to declare, that she 
 and the young Lady Leigh must not reign 
 
 VOL. i. k
 
 130 MARGARET 
 
 together. She only intended to remain with 
 them a short time, to give them the advantage 
 of her wisdom and counsels, to start on their 
 matrimonial career with dignity and propriety. 
 
 A house within the park had been prepared 
 for her and her daughters, so near, that at any 
 time her valuable advice could be had for the 
 asking : so Margaret, with the sw 7 eet earnest- 
 ness natural to her, and the modest appreciation 
 of her own merits, set herself seriously to 
 work, to imbibe as much courtly wisdom as 
 she could : thinking, in the innocence of her 
 girlish heart, that she was making herself more 
 fit to be the wife of Harold. He was not at 
 first aw T are that a curb was placed upon the 
 happy flow of spirits, so delightful in his eyes, 
 but rather imputed the change from her girlish 
 gaiety, to embarrassment and fatigue con- 
 sequent on her new position. So no wonder 
 Court Leigh seemed to him still, the dullest, 
 most weary place in the world. 
 
 " I should like," said Margaret one day, as
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 131 
 
 they paced slowly among the formal old flower 
 beds, " to make a really pretty garden here. 
 These beds look very stiff from the windows, 
 and there are no flowers, either sweet or new, 
 in them." 
 
 "I think, little wife, that is a very good 
 notion ; the country is such a bore, and this 
 such a dull old hole, I shall be glad of some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 " Oh ! Harold, do not call our home dull !" 
 
 " But it is, Margaret ; I have nothing to do 
 here." 
 
 Margaret was too young and ignorant to 
 know why or wherefore this was the fact, but 
 said, 
 
 " You shall make the plan of a garden, and 
 so will I, and our sisters shall judge between 
 us. 
 
 "Make a garden, dear Margaret," said Pru. 
 
 "You and Harold make a garden," echoed 
 Pro. 
 
 " No, not ourselves, but draw the plan of 
 one," said Margi
 
 1 32 MARGARET 
 
 " Oh ! draw a plan," said Pru. 
 
 "Of a garden/* said Pro. 
 
 " Yes, quite right, and you shall judge which 
 is best, my plan or Harold's." 
 
 "But we do not understand plans, dear 
 Margaret," said Pru. 
 
 " No, we never studied plans, dear Mar- 
 garet," said Pro. 
 
 They had peculiar drawling, but still sweet 
 voices ; and as they echoed each other, Mar- 
 garet could hardly resist laughing, while Harold 
 said in mimic tones, " I hope you will teach 
 them plans, dear Margaret." 
 
 The two gentle sisters blushed at their 
 brother's mockery, but a horseman appeared 
 on the lawn, which prevented further converse 
 on'their part ; for, like well-bred, obedient girls, 
 they fluttered away through the open window, 
 to place themselves under the care and sur- 
 veillance of their mother, although Harold ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " It is Philip !"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 133 
 
 Philip was a man, though a cousin, and a 
 young man too, that is about their own 
 age, very handsome also : so, though a near 
 relative, they did not appear again but in the 
 company of their stately mother. 
 
 Margaret had time to notice the new arrival, 
 and to learn his relationship to her ere he dis- 
 mounted. Save her own Harold, and perhaps 
 Basil Erie, he was the handsomest man she 
 had ever seen.
 
 134 
 
 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Philip Leigh was Harold's first cousin ; 
 he had a small estate and a beautiful house, 
 called High Leigh, in the very centre of 
 Harold's property. He was some years older 
 than Harold, and as his uncle, the last baro- 
 net, had married very late in life, for some 
 time Philip had been considered heir-pre- 
 sumptive. Even after his uncle's marriage 
 with Lady Katherine, two little girls were 
 born succeeding each other quickly, but for 
 five years no other children followed. It was 
 therefore most natural, that Philip's father and 
 mother should look upon their son as the
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 133 
 
 future baronet, and bring him up accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 Philip was beginning fully to appreciate the 
 idea of being Sir Philip, and to speculate upon 
 Court Leigh being so much more desirable to 
 live in than High Leigh, when Harold unex- 
 pectedly made his appearance, nearly six years 
 after his youngest sister, and not above four 
 months before his father's death. 
 
 Philip never forgave Harold this disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Though handsome, clever, witty, sensible.. 
 and moderately rich, Philip lived in the world 
 honoured and esteemed, yet nourishing in his 
 heart a foolish, mean feeling of envy, which 
 only wanted a little encouragement to break 
 out into malice. 
 
 Sufficiently talented to succeed in whatsoever 
 he undertook ; handsome enough to gain admi- 
 ration wherever he went ; moderate in regard 
 to luxury and wealth, so as to feel perfectly 
 satisfied with the fortune he possessed, yet
 
 136 MARGARET 
 
 Philip counted none of these things of any 
 
 value or pleasure to him, simply because he 
 
 was not Sir Philip. 
 
 It was strange that so childish and foolish 
 
 a notion should have taken such deep root in 
 
 a naturally strong and vigorous intellect. But 
 
 so it was : every one is supposed to be weak 
 
 » 
 on one subject, and that was his, little as any 
 
 of his intimate friends or admirers thought so. 
 
 He was unmarried, not through want of any 
 
 opportunities of being so ; for his handsome 
 
 mouth would curl with rather supercilious 
 
 pride, when questioned on the subject, and 
 
 he was wont to turn such conversation from 
 
 the point with a half laugh of scorn, that his 
 
 hearers granted Philip Leigh might use with 
 
 impunity. 
 
 There was not a young lady in his county 
 
 who would not have been proud to call Philip 
 
 Leigh husband, and he knew it, from poor 
 
 little Pru. and Pro., upwards and downwards. 
 
 No, he dwelt alone ; there he could brood over
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 137 
 
 his one disappointment, and rate and rail 
 away in solitude at a freak of fortune, neither 
 he nor any other man living could remedy. It 
 may be imagined, therefore, he came with no 
 very friendly feelings to greet Harold's wife ; 
 that Harold who became Sir Harold at four 
 months old, and who grew and throve in a 
 manner surpassing most babies, and was there- 
 fore the more to be disliked and envied. 
 
 Who caught measles, hooping cough, and 
 scarlet fever with wonderful celerity, and threw 
 them all off as quickly as he caught them. 
 
 Who never got a bad fall, though riding by 
 stealth, for fear of his stately mother, all the 
 most vicious and unbroken horses in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 Who never was shot, or shot anv one, or 
 accidentally blew out his own brains, though 
 for the above-mentioned reason, he took every 
 available opportunity, whether safe or unsafe, 
 of acquiring knowledge in the art of gunnery. 
 
 He grew up unscathed, unharmed, as fine,
 
 138 MARGARET 
 
 strong, and healthy a specimen of her Majesty's 
 subjects as might be seen in her dominions ; 
 and here he was with a wife, who would most 
 likely put an effectual stop to Philip's secret 
 ambition. 
 
 His quick, handsome eyes looked thought- 
 fully on Lady Leigh, as she blushingly wel- 
 comed her Harold's kinsman. " Very pretty, 
 but young and foolish," he mentally said to 
 himself. 
 
 As he rode home after half an hour's visit, 
 he mused within himself, and thought thus : 
 
 "Lady Leigh is very lovely, but she has 
 married by six years too soon ; she is nothing 
 but a school-girl still : if I mistake not, Harold 
 will want something more than a merely pretty 
 wife, to bind him to a home he has never 
 loved. If in her present pliable girlhood she 
 takes pattern by Lady Katherine, they will not 
 be happy long. Harold must have excitement 
 of some sort, or he will be annoyed to an in- 
 tolerable degree. Humph ! I think Lady
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 139 
 
 Leigh has not wit to see that she should strike 
 out a line of her own, and not copy Lady 
 Katherine. I think she already begins to speak 
 like Pru. and Pro., and Harold will never stand 
 such peaking and puling. However, far be it 
 from me to interfere : if he w r ould marry a 
 school-girl, who ought still to be in her pin- 
 before instead of w r edding gear, it is no busi- 
 ness of mine. Yet there is a look in her eyes, 
 a wonderful look, — I suppose it is love, — pure, 
 deep earnest love, such a love as lives but once 
 in the human heart, and leaves it but with 
 death. Will such a love conquer the mono- 
 tony and every-day trials of married life ? 
 Will it prove of sufficient depth, fervour, and 
 strength, to bind Harold to an existence, place, 
 and people, he has hitherto always disliked 
 and fled from ? In an older heart it might, 
 perhaps ; but I do not think under that simple 
 girlish manner such devotion will be deemed 
 to dwell. I wonder how I should feel with a 
 wife's eyes looking at me as hers did at Ha-
 
 140 MARGARET 
 
 rold ? I fancy I should like it ; I have now 
 nothing left me but to marry. But whom ? 
 Not a single woman that I know could I tole- 
 rate for a month, not even Harold's pretty 
 bride, with her fathomless love eyes. 
 
 " I have lost the excitement of wondering 
 if Harold would marry ; now my fate is de- 
 cided ; I feel that unless I get up some irri- 
 tation, some object about which to interest 
 myself, I shall sink into the hereditary malady 
 of the Leighs, and become a hypochondriac. 
 Marriage is hateful to me — every woman to be 
 had for the asking ; so that unless I may act 
 Bluebeard, and marry a new wife when I am 
 tired of the old one — ' I'll none on't.' I think 
 I will amuse myself, by making mischief be- 
 tween Harold and his wife. I'll not go too 
 far, but just see if my judgment is at fault 
 concerning their future career. If he would 
 marry a raw, innocent school-girl, it is surely 
 no fault of mine."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 So Philip became a constant visitor at Court 
 Leigh, and was quite aware that he was a 
 most welcome guest. His easy, quiet flow of 
 amusing conversation, his pertinent and sen- 
 sible remarks, were each in their turn admired 
 by the whole household. 
 
 " Philip puts me much in mind of his gra- 
 cious Majesty," said Lady Katherine, who 
 meant George the Third, and had not been 
 able to realize the existence of any other sove- 
 reign ; "his remarks are so sensible, without 
 being verbose." 
 
 " My cousin Philip is very sensible," chirped 
 Pru.
 
 1 12 MARGARET 
 
 " I think our cousin Philip is sensible," 
 echoed Pro. 
 
 " Philip is a good-hearted, downright 
 amusing fellow," said Harold. 
 
 " I am always so glad to see Philip," said 
 the softest, sweetest voice possible, " he amuses 
 Harold so much." 
 
 Philip knew as well as Harold, that great 
 discontent and much distress reigned through- 
 out the whole estate of Court Leigh. 
 
 The old Sir Harold had never interested 
 himself about it ; and more from ignorance 
 than unkindness, Lady Katherine had declined 
 interfering between the tenantry and the stew- 
 ard ; and, as we have seen, brought up Ha- 
 rold in the same ignorance. 
 
 The little that he did know, only made him 
 take refuge in the old proverb, " Where igno- 
 rance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." With his 
 natural predisposition to indolence, fostered 
 by education, he had imbibed a sort of horror 
 of every sort of business ; therefore everything
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 143 
 
 was left in the hands of his steward, who, while 
 doing the best he could, was obliged to sacri- 
 fice some person at times to meet exigencies ; 
 as that never could be the heir, of course all 
 grievances fell on the tenants. Dilapidated 
 buildings, tumble-down cottages, gateless fields, 
 broken-down hedges, marked the property of 
 Court Leigh in every direction. But Harold 
 was not induced by the sight to put them to 
 rights, for he did not even know they were 
 his ; also he might, had he not been too indo- 
 lent to notice it, have been struck with the 
 difference between his cousin's small estate 
 and his own. Philip had not a bad heart, 
 but he had suffered the little speck of envy to 
 spread and corrode it ; also, he was not reli- 
 gious ; like many men of vigorous intellect 
 and strong mental powers, he was apt to 
 make those powers his God. Save that he 
 was not Sir Philip, the head of the family, 
 what was there that he was not ? In his own 
 eyes none were equal to Philip Leigh, with
 
 144 MARGARET 
 
 none could he compare himself. Yet this one 
 black spot of envy was making him a mean 
 man, and leading him on to do things for 
 which he would be condemned and despised 
 by every right-minded, honourable man. 
 
 A little encouragement about this time, from 
 one esteemed as he was, would have made 
 Harold exert himself; and, once he began to 
 interest himself in his affairs, it was not diffi- 
 cult to imagine he might become an efficient 
 country gentleman. 
 
 But Philip took a contrary course. 
 
 For want of some better amusement, Ha- 
 rold, with no love for it, was apt to linger over 
 the wine, more to escape his mother's prosy 
 court stories and lectures than anything else: 
 Philip encouraged him in this. In their many 
 conversations and mutual confidences, the 
 warm-hearted, frank Harold would dilate upon 
 the simple beauty of his wife's character. 
 Philip chimed in with a sort of compassionate, 
 supercilious air, that gave one the notion they
 
 AND HER BRIDESMATDS. 145 
 
 were talking of some young and timid pet, 
 and left on Harold's mind the impression that 
 his wife was a mere child. And although 
 Philip hated himself for this meanness, he was 
 yet so led away by his master-passion, that he 
 kept on in the same course. 
 
 " Oh, Lady Leigh !" said he, one day, " I 
 am delighted to find you alone. In general 
 you are so surrounded with delighted ad- 
 mirers, that I am unable to get in a word/' 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret, simply, " my sisters 
 are very kind to be so fond of me $ we get on 
 so happily together." 
 
 " Then you must not be surprised if I envy 
 them," said Philip ; " I, who delight so much 
 in the society of superior female minds, and 
 have so seldom enjoyed it." 
 
 " Did you not, then, know Lady Katherine 
 before ?" said Margaret. 
 
 " Is she laughing at me, or a fool ?" thought 
 Philip. Then, aloud, " Oh, yes! But do you 
 compare yourself to Lady Katherine ?" 
 
 VOL. I. l
 
 146 MARGARET 
 
 " No, not at all," said Margaret, laughing. 
 " I, a simple school-girl, oh, no !" 
 
 " Bat the loveliest of her sex," said Philip, 
 with hypocritical fervour; saying to himself, 
 " She is so simple, she will swallow anything." 
 
 " So Harold says," said Margaret, quite com- 
 posedly, but with such naivete, Philip could 
 see she cared not one straw for her beauty, 
 save as Harold prized it. 
 
 " Would that I had been so fortunate as to 
 see you before Harold did," he continued, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " Ah, yes !" said Margaret ; " for then you 
 would have told me of him, and I should have 
 learned to love him ere I saw him." 
 
 Philip bit his lip, the corners of his haughty 
 mouth curled with disdain, as Margaret con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " Eor 1 was very much afraid of him at first, 
 and would neither speak to him or look at him, 
 which was very foolish, was it not, Philip ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but, pray tell me, do you love no 
 one but Harold ?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 147 
 
 " Oh, yes ! What is this world to me but 
 love ! I have experienced no other feeling. I 
 know not unkindness, or ever heard a harsh 
 word ; love surrounds me, and I can but give 
 love in return." 
 
 " Will you give it me?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, dear Philip !" said Margaret, 
 holding out both her hands and taking his, 
 her lovely face beaming with affection and 
 brightness. " How can I help loving you, 
 Harold's own cousin ?" 
 
 Foiled again, Philip Leigh ! What sort of 
 character is she — can she be ? for such an one 
 had never crossed his path before. Was she 
 really so very innocent, so simple, so guile- 
 less ? Did she really love Harold with such 
 strange earnestness and devotion, that she 
 could see nothing but through him ? 
 
 She was a woman after all — nothing but a 
 tender, loving woman. There must be some 
 soft spot in that gentle heart to which he, in 
 his world- wise wisdom and pride of intellect, 
 
 l 2 

 
 143 MARGARET 
 
 could surely find his way. He had never been 
 foiled by woman yet ; and that a school-girl 
 should puzzle him, was not to be endured. 
 The Leigh lethargy disappeared under this new 
 excitement : we will leave him to pursue his 
 way.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Basil and Millicent were quietly living in 
 their forest-home ; he, schooling his heart to 
 perform its allotted duties, through the long 
 life that seemed his probable fate. The gayer, 
 fairer, more delectable path being closed be- 
 fore him, he turned into the rugged, rough 
 road of duty, and already, in the distance, dis- 
 cerned gems of beauty and brilliance opening 
 their rays towards him, as if from heaven. 
 
 Millicent was preparing for her marriage, 
 and studying, among the wild forest children, 
 to learn the duties of a clergyman's wife. 
 
 Gerald Herbert had been for some years in
 
 150 MARGARET 
 
 holy orders, but as yet having no living, he 
 acted as curate in large, densely-populated, 
 neglected towns. 
 
 Conscientious, zealous, and indefatigable, 
 he was one of the most promising specimens of 
 the young clergymen who now, in these happy 
 days, begin to abound in this still more happy 
 land. 
 
 His beaming eyes, his energetic countenance, 
 and firm, strong character, would have marked 
 him in earlier ages as a willing and enthusi- 
 astic martyr. But, in these times, they give 
 birth to the surmise, that, in the flush and ex- 
 citement of youthful energy, he might, per- 
 haps, be led into extremes, which his matured 
 judgment would deprecate. 
 
 The marriage was to be very private, be- 
 cause the year of mourning for her father had 
 not yet expired ; still Basil intended the cere- 
 mony to take place at Erlscourt ; wishing to 
 prove, if his earnest endeavours, his high 
 principles, had conquered in the task he had 
 given them to do.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 151 
 
 Sir Harold and Lady Leigh were among the 
 first guests invited ; and while Margaret was 
 glowing with delight at seeing them all again, 
 Basil was nerving himself to receive in pure 
 and noble courtesy in heart as in conduct, 
 that woman as a guest whom he had hoped to 
 welcome as his wife. 
 
 But Margaret had two other reasons, besides 
 her dear Milly's promised happiness, for look- 
 ing forward to this meeting with feelings only 
 to be described as ecstatic. 
 
 Her Harold, so like her Harold, had desired 
 her to present, as a wedding-gift to the bride- 
 groom elect, the living of Holmleigh. It was 
 worth five hundred pounds a-year, with a very 
 pretty rectory-house, and, above all, was only 
 a mile from Court Leigh. Thus Margaret and 
 Millicent might look forward to spending their 
 closing years together, as they had done their 
 opening ones. 
 
 The other news could only be whispered ; 
 and it was whispered in the sweet twilight, as
 
 152 MARGARET 
 
 they sat together the first evening that they 
 met. Had there been light enough, Milly 
 would have wondered at Margaret's beauty, 
 with the rosy bloom blushing bright, and the 
 dark, soft eyes glancing with a pure radiance 
 as she uttered her secret. 
 
 "Iain to have a little Harold in the sum- 
 mer ; you will be near me, Milly, and will see 
 that he is his father's image." Milly showed 
 by her delight the due importance she attached 
 to this secret. 
 
 It may be deemed strange that Miliicent 
 did not urge Basil to seek any other guests 
 save his present ones ; but she judged of his 
 heart by her own, and knew that he would 
 not be calm and free from vain and foolish 
 regrets, until he had thoroughly rooted from 
 his heart any love for the wife of another, than 
 what ought to find place there. 
 
 The wound might smart under this mode of 
 treatment, but its cure would be all the more 
 effectual the more it was cauterized ; and to see
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 153 
 
 her, be with her, her husband by her side, her 
 love for another before him, would, she thought, 
 be the last thing necessary. 
 
 She appeared before him more lovely than 
 ever, more gentle and engaging than his for- 
 mer fondest expectations had deemed possible: 
 but the pure halo of a wife's love surrounded 
 her. He enshrined her in his heart as an 
 angel, and vowing her a brother's love, with 
 warm courtesy and generous hospitality, he set 
 himself the task of welcoming Sir Harold and 
 Lady Leigh to Erlscourt, as honoured and 
 beloved guests. 
 
 " How came it, Queen Margaret," said Sir 
 Harold, " that you never told me of Erlscourt 
 and Erlscourt's lord?" Harold had adopted 
 Lotty's term of endearment and devotion for 
 Margaret, and she well became the title ; there 
 was something so stately in her sweet simpli- 
 city, so queen-like in her modest air. This 
 Harold said one night in conjugal conference. 
 
 " This is my first visit to Erlscourt," said 
 Margaret, nestling in her accustomed place.
 
 154 MARGARET 
 
 " But Erlscourt is nothing without Basil, 
 as you call him. How came you to be so in- 
 timate, sweet Meg ?" 
 
 His " sweet Meg " told him the whole story 
 from beginning to end, winding up by saying, 
 
 " You know, Harold, there is no one like 
 Basil in the world, and we all know it so well, 
 that I thought you did also." 
 
 " A pretty confession from a wife to her 
 husband, Queen Margaret." 
 
 " In what way, Harold?" she answered. 
 
 " Did you not say, there was no one in the 
 world like Basil ? and am not I, your husband, 
 deemed worthy a comparison ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! Harold, I compare you with 
 another ? you knew that could not be ; a wife 
 does not compare her husband around, about, 
 near her ; he is her husband, what more ? the 
 rest of the world are nothing." 
 
 Harold kissed the earnest, beseeching eyes 5 
 half pleased with the devoted love she thus 
 betrayed, and half amused at the seriousness
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 155 
 
 with which she answered his bantering, though 
 none knew better than he did what that 
 answer would be. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Harold, my little Lotty 
 will not be at the wedding." 
 
 " I am sorry too, for your sake, dear 
 wife ; but I care not much for your little friend, 
 she does not seem to affect me, Margaret." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Harold, she does ; she is the 
 dearest, truest-hearted little thing in the 
 world," 
 
 " She may be, for aught I know.'' 
 
 " I want to ask her to come and see me at 
 Court Leigh ; may I, Harold ?" 
 
 " Ask the whole school if you like, my Meg, 
 governess and all." 
 
 Margaret laughed in girlish glee at this 
 notion, and then said, " So kind you are, my 
 Harold." 
 
 " But do not forget my mother's lecture 
 upon young ladies, with which she favoured 
 us three nights running ; if I mistake not, she
 
 156 MARGARET 
 
 passed some rather severe censures on your 
 Lotty, and designated her an unmannerly hoy- 
 den, while Miss Clare was her beau ideal of 
 high breeding and gentlewomanliness. That's 
 a long word, but it is my mother's favourite 
 one, and which she uses as a text when she 
 sermonises Pru. and Pro." 
 
 " How fanny you are to-night, Harold ; but 
 though I cannot explain why, everybody at 
 school loved Lotty, and very few cared for 
 Augusta." 
 
 " Oh ! that is easily accounted for — Augusta 
 is very handsome." 
 
 " Dear Harold, how naughty of you, so un- 
 like you, to say such a thing." 
 
 " It is rather sharp of me, I own, but I 
 always feel very lively and chatty, when away 
 from Court Leigh ; my spirits get the better 
 of my discretion. But ask all your school- 
 fellows that you wish, sweet wife, for it will 
 enliven that dull, old place, and Pru. and Pro. 
 want a little school-girl nonsense knocked into 
 them."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 137 
 
 " I will ask my bridesmaids and Lotty, 
 Harold j thank you much, and you must ask 
 Basil." 
 
 "Very well, we will employ our time in 
 getting up a love-match between him and one 
 of the school-girls ; I shall like that, it will be 
 something to do." 
 
 " I hope Lotty will be his choice," laughed 
 Margaret, entering into her husband's mirth. 
 
 " No, no, none of them will have a chance 
 with Augusta ; besides, being much the pret- 
 tiest, she is much the best hand at flirting : 
 your Lotty is a little bear." 
 
 " Ah ! that is what we called her at school ; 
 she is sometimes cross, but so true and warm- 
 hearted, and she might be so conceited and 
 spoilt, for she is idolised among her own 
 people." 
 
 " However, I think none of them quite good 
 enough for that glorious fellow Basil, none but 
 you, Margaret : now how came you, Queen 
 Meg, to miss falling in love with him ? con-
 
 153 MARGARET 
 
 fess now, and perhaps I will give you absolu- 
 tion, if you tell the whole truth." 
 
 "Indeed," said Margaret, laughing and 
 blushing. " I have nothing to confess ; Basil 
 and I were just like brother and sister." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, my little wife, I 
 think I just secured you in time ; when you 
 left school, and had nothing to think about, and 
 were in the habit of seeing that fine fellow 
 constantly, I doubt you would have tumbled 
 ' full fathom five ' in love with him. 
 
 " No, no," said Margaret ; " only you, 
 Harold." 
 
 " I promise you, I am pleased to think so, 
 my Queen. I have taken a great fancy to our 
 host ; I never saw a more ' proper man :' with 
 his coat thrown back from that broad power- 
 ful chest, his black silk handkerchief knotted 
 with such careless grace around his magnifi- 
 cent throat, his hyacin thine locks, bestowing 
 themselves so picturesquely round his head, 
 I was greatly struck with his appearance at
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 159 
 
 first sight; then, Meg, when he spoke, when 
 his countenance lighted up, and he looked at 
 me, with his wonderful deep blue eyes, and 
 such a smile passed from the eyes down to the 
 mouth, like the sun breaking through a cloud, 
 why then, Margaret, I wondered you never fell 
 in love with him."
 
 160 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 The wedding day arrived. 
 
 Unlike Margaret's wedding, there was no 
 crying, no dressing, no hurry, no train of 
 bridesmaids, no glitter, no pomp. Her two 
 half sisters, Sir Thomas and Lady Montagu, 
 with some of Gerald's relatives, formed the 
 party. Caroline, Florence, Lotty, and Augusta, 
 had all been asked, but Caroline was going to 
 be married herself to a bluff young country 
 squire, and wanted Florence's able assistance ; 
 Lotty was at school, and Augusta wrote to say, 
 " That though her heart would be with them, 
 and she should regret to the end of her life,
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 161 
 
 however long she might live, that she could not 
 come ; yet the fact was, she begged it might be 
 kept secret, she could not obtain leave of absence 
 from a certain person, who mustbe nameless, but 
 who ere long would have the fiat of her fate 
 in his hands, &c. &c." The sentence was very 
 long, and ran on from one thing into another, 
 until it became a matter of difficulty to dis- 
 cover its real meaning. 
 
 But it was a very happy wedding. 
 
 The affectionate love of Basil proved itself in 
 the joy with which he gave his sister to the hus- 
 band who had waited so patiently for her ; and 
 the gentle Millicent herself, having no home to 
 regret, no parents to leave, had only one alloy on 
 this her wedding day — she had to part from Basil. 
 
 After the ceremony was over, they left for 
 their new home, Holmleigh, where Gerald was 
 to enter at once upon his duties. 
 
 Margaret and her husband intended pay- 
 ing a visit to her good old parents, and from 
 thence return to Court Leigh. 
 
 vol. J. M
 
 162 MARGARET 
 
 ''Dear Meg," said Harold, as they left 
 Erlscourt, u Iam sorry to leave this place, and 
 though I mean while we are at Montagu House 
 to trouble Basil pretty often with my company, 
 I somehow feel as if we were leaving a good 
 atmosphere, when leaving him." 
 
 Margaret had been content to know that 
 everything went well when Basil was at hand, 
 without finding out the cause ; so she merely 
 answered, 
 
 "I am so glad, Harold, you like him." 
 
 " I do more than like him, I respect him. 
 I begin to think I was not rightly brought 
 up ; surely if Lord Erlscourt thinks it neces- 
 sary to look after his own affairs, to be up 
 early and late, not suffer even the meanest of 
 his people to be denied an audience — it 
 would not be unbecoming a baronet to do 
 the same." 
 
 " Oh ! Harold, but you would not like it, 
 vou would be so troubled and teased : Basil 
 has been accustomed to trouble all his life, his 
 father was not good."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 163 
 
 " I feel quite certain I should be horridly 
 bored ; but I much question if it is not the 
 proper thing for a landed proprietor to do, 
 Queen Meg." 
 
 " It may be, Harold ; but perhaps your 
 people are different from Basil's, and I should 
 think your mother would certainly know what 
 was best." 
 
 (Ah ! sweet Margaret, in your jealous love 
 for your husband's honour, are you not pander- 
 ing to his besetting sin, indolence ?) 
 
 " Well, I shall think it over while I stop 
 here, and, at all events, I will watch Basil, and 
 see if I can adopt a hint or two. I believe our 
 people are a horrid set ; but from all I can hear, 
 none are more lawless than those about here. 
 And yet what order he has them in ; young as 
 he is, those wild forest -men respect and love 
 him as if he were their king. He is never 
 idle one moment ; that I agree, would be too 
 much for me." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! dear Harold, you would be away 
 from me so much."
 
 164 MARGARET 
 
 " What ! you always want me by your apron- 
 strings, do you, little wife ? I think it would 
 be as well to absent myself now and then, just 
 to see how you would welcome me back again." 
 
 " No, no, Harold, I could not bear it." 
 
 " Well, well, child, do not turn pale ; I dare 
 say I shall never be any thing better than idle 
 Harold Leigh all my life, with no other hard 
 work than to wait on your Ladyship's wishes. 
 But, Meg, I cannot be in Lord Erlscourt's com- 
 pany without thinking ; I cannot see his energy, 
 activity, and judgment, without asking myself, 
 where are mine ? what am I doing ? and I, 
 really, I have no answer to give." 
 
 " You would not be other than you are, my 
 Harold ?" said Margaret, half mournfully. 
 
 " Humph ! I am not so sure of that, little 
 wife. I think I could not have been formed 
 only to hunt, shoot, fish, and yawn through 
 life." 
 
 Basil was studying Harold's character, and 
 while he did full justice to his frank-hearted*
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 105 
 
 generous disposition, and perceived that the 
 image he had inherited from God was noble 
 and good, he also saw the mischief that had 
 been done to that character by education. His 
 education had been based on a false foundation. 
 His duties had consisted of outward forms and 
 courtesies : these tend to gild a fine character, 
 and are properly the result of Christian prin- 
 ciples, the polish of a self-denying, holy lite. 
 
 Harold had the gilding, but it had been 
 placed on metal unrefined, untried in the tire. 
 Beneath the gloss, who could tell what dwelt ? 
 
 Basil also saw, that in the warmth and fer- 
 vour of a love like Margaret's, the sense that 
 would have budded forth with blossom, had 
 nothing eclipsed it, was fast becoming obscured 
 by a feeling that amounted to idolatry. 
 
 It became a character like his, to try and 
 make the man who had married the woman lie 
 adored, fit to be her husband ; while, in his 
 gentle, brotherly way, he endeavoured to open 
 Margaret's eyes to something besides her 
 Harold.
 
 166 MARGARET 
 
 It was all done so unostentatiously, every 
 right and proper duty was placed before Harold 
 in a manner so pleasing and just, that he re- 
 turned to Court Leigh with the determination 
 to try and be the worthy, active proprietor of 
 a landed estate. 
 
 Had Margaret encouraged him, the trial 
 might have succeeded. But who know better 
 than those who have tried, the difficulties that 
 seem to arise, like mountains in a night, when 
 you begin what may be considered an act of 
 duty? 
 
 Harold soon got disgusted with meddling, 
 as his mother called it, in his own affairs. 
 His steward gave him no encouragement, of 
 course ; rather perplexed than helped him out 
 of his sea of worries. His mother was scan- 
 dalised at such unheard-of conduct. Mar- 
 garet was vexed to see him worried and wearied, 
 while Philip Leigh laughed at him. 
 
 No wonder then that Harold relapsed into 
 his old habits, and passed his days in listless
 
 A.ND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 167 
 
 idleness, his ideas becoming as torpid as his 
 body. The measure of his disgust at trying 
 to follow Basil's example, was completed by 
 Gerald Herbert. 
 
 The active rector of a long-neglected parish, 
 justified by his holy profession to call alike on 
 rich and poor to amend their lives, Gerald 
 Herbert was deterred by no feeling of self-in- 
 terest in declaring unwelcome truths ; still, 
 with all his high-souled zeal, his pure and 
 ardent labours, Gerald lacked the gift of per- 
 suasion. 
 
 What was your duty, ought to be done ; no 
 compromise, no weak excuses, no allowance 
 for extra feebleness of will and purpose. " You 
 ought," and "you ought not," formed the 
 basis of his creed. 
 
 Unflinching, just, and exact, he gave no heed 
 to weaknesses he knew not ; he made no allow- 
 ance for failings he could not understand. 
 
 " One sin makes you guilty of all," thus he 
 argued j and his parishioners, long neglected,
 
 168 MARGARET 
 
 and only now hearing what was, their duty 
 grew faint-hearted and wavering under the 
 stern and uncompromising line of conduct he 
 imposed. 
 
 And none more so than his patron and their 
 landlord. 
 
 Harold, whose heart opened, and whose 
 bosom expanded at a line of conduct that 
 charmed his sense, had he not been peremp- 
 torily commanded to adopt it, grew stubborn 
 and irritable under his rector's lash. And 
 Margaret and Millicent sadly learnt that un- 
 mitigated, happy intercourse was not to be 
 their lot. The two gentlemen only met to 
 quarrel ; that is, Gerald never quarrelled, but he 
 so managed to irritate Harold, that he had but 
 to prefer a request to have it refused. Thus 
 the good that Gerald would, and could, have 
 done, was negatived : Harold grew even more 
 irreligious than he had been j he required to be 
 beguiled into such feelings, never having been 
 taught to consider it aught but a duty. And
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 169 
 
 thus matters went on, each week adding to 
 the ill effects of the last ; Philip Leigh seeing 
 it all, and assisting the evil for purposes of 
 his own. 
 
 In due course of time, as Margaret pre- 
 dicted, she had a little Harold ; also it was the 
 image of its father.
 
 170 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 When Margaret had recovered, she fulfilled 
 a once-formed intention, and invited her school- 
 mates to pay her a visit. Augusta accepted 
 with much and unfeigned pleasure. " Her 
 heart and mind had been sadly torn, by the 
 necessity she had felt to break through the 
 strongest ties of love, and separate herself 
 from one who possessed her sole affections, 
 but of whose principles and religious character 
 she could not be satisfied. Though life was 
 henceforward but a vale of darkness for her, 
 she deemed it her duty to bear up with for- 
 titude and resignation, and she felt that the
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 171 
 
 society of her loved Margaret, and daily com- 
 munion with the dear Saint Millicent, would 
 prove the only balm that could soothe her, &c, 
 frc, &c." Lotty accepted, on condition that her 
 father was included in the invitation, and that 
 a flight of affectionate Beauvillians might now 
 and then be tolerated, in case they felt it im- 
 possible to exist without looking after their 
 chief and "the girl." Flory and Carry were 
 abroad, the one on a wedding tour, and the 
 other accompanying her as the happy brides- 
 maid. 
 
 Lady Katherine much approved of a little 
 company at the great house ; it was time Mar- 
 garet should accustom herself to act the great 
 lady ; though the sight of her school-fellows 
 would not probably impress Margaret with the 
 necessity of much assumption of matronly 
 dignity. 
 
 " I am pleased, my dear," said the old lady, 
 " that Miss Clare is coming ; you will do well, 
 Georgina and Charlotte, to take copy by Miss
 
 172 MARGARET 
 
 Clare. Her carriage is beautiful, her courtesy 
 quite perfection, her manners blend the dig- 
 nified with the graceful. I do not quite ad- 
 mire your other friend, my dear Margaret.'' 
 
 " My little Lotty ! she is so good, Lady 
 Katherine." 
 
 " So very obliging," chirped Pro. 
 
 " So very kind," said Pru. 
 
 " Charlotte and Georgina, you are led away 
 by appearances, I, your mother have said it. 
 Surely the honoured Lady-in-waiting of our 
 good Queen must know who is most worthy 
 of your notice." 
 
 An idea crossed Margaret's mind that Lady 
 Katherine was the victim to appearances : but 
 she had too great an opinion of her mother- 
 in law to permit such a fancy to remain there. 
 Harold's mother too ! To the honour of the 
 much-subdued Pru. and Pro., they could not 
 subscribe in then- hearts to their mother's 
 judgment in this instance ; this they showed 
 by being silent when Augusta was the subject
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 173 
 
 of conversation. For during the brief period 
 of their intercourse at Margaret's wedding, 
 Augusta had made no secret of her amusement 
 at their expense, and indulged in various un- 
 palatable remarks about old maids, and other 
 matters equally foolish and absurd ; while the 
 little Lotty had proved their friend on all oc- 
 casions. Aud a friend in need she was, for 
 their meek, secluded, quiet ways, were ill fitted 
 to cope with rosy, healthy, happy, intelligent 
 school -life. 
 
 Besides she w^as so amusing, and opened to 
 the view of the two quiet women quite a new 
 species of being in the world. Certainly there 
 were few like that same little Lotty. Wild, ca- 
 pricious, wilful, and passionate, who performed 
 each duty as she did ? who thought with such 
 judgment ? who mastered the most abstruse 
 lessons with ease, who saw what no one else 
 ever thought of, who was here, there, and every 
 where. A midge, a myth, a fairy, yet a Solon, 
 a Norma, a prophetess, wonderful Lotty ! Well
 
 174 MARGARET 
 
 might her mother die with the thought in her 
 heart, " What will be my little Lotty's fate ?" 
 
 Augusta arrived first of the expected guests, 
 and seemed to find immediate consolation for 
 the sorrows of her wounded heart, by discover- 
 ing so distinguished and desirable a party as 
 Philip Leigh domesticated in the house. She 
 at once took possession of his present un- 
 occupied time, declaring that his soul was 
 kindred with hers. 
 
 Philip was not disinclined to the flirtation ; 
 for besides thinking Augusta the handsomest 
 woman he had seen for some time, he had a 
 mind to find out if Margaret would feel the 
 loss of those devoted attentions he had be- 
 come accustomed to pay her. Augusta's 
 beauty was her only merit ; his clear head and 
 strong sense saw through her weak and vain 
 character, before the first evening was over. 
 So, though he continued to amuse himself at 
 her expense, it was merely to see the effect of 
 his experiment. This reason for flirting with
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 17o 
 
 Augusta soon vanished, for ere the end of the 
 week, Margaret, to his great disgust, said to him, 
 
 "I am so glad to see, Philip, that you like 
 Augusta ; it would be very nice if you married 
 her ; I should like her to settle near us." 
 
 Philip rode off in dudgeon, and shut himself 
 up at home in a sad, sulky humour. Mean- 
 time Lotty and her fine old father arrived, at- 
 tended by a brother, an uncle, and a kinsman. 
 These latter meant to depart immediately, but 
 Harold's hospitality would not permit of that. 
 It was hard to say which felt the most emotion, 
 as Margaret laid her little child in her school- 
 husband's arms. 
 
 " I know nothing about babies," said Lotty, 
 trying to smother her feelings. 
 
 " Is he not like Harold ?" whispered Mar- 
 garet, as she gazed lovingly on her little child. 
 
 " I would rather he was like you," was the 
 answer. " However, I suppose I shall not 
 hurt him if I kiss him. There, sir, go away ; 
 in a year or two we may be playfellows."
 
 176 MARGARET 
 
 Really Court Leigh was not like the same 
 place with these happy, jovial, good-hearted 
 Beauvillians in it. Lotty's father was an in- 
 valid, and generally remained in his own room 
 until the evening. Not that he was ever alone ; 
 sometimes the brother, then the son, and anon 
 the kinsman would be flying upstairs, with 
 eager faces and evident delight, to say that the 
 weather was most beautiful, the wind in the 
 right quarter. This would be discussed with 
 great spirit and interest. Then another would 
 appear to say, that at two o'clock Mr. Beau- 
 villiers was to be ready for his drive ; charioteer, 
 Lotty. This always caused a long discussion, 
 how well she drove, who taught her, and other 
 little anecdotes truly Beauvillian. Perhaps the 
 news would be, that so many more flowers had 
 blown, that all the ladies were singing, playing 
 or working ; but no matter what the news or 
 how trivial, from the hearty jovial way in which 
 it was told, it became interesting enough to 
 form matter of history.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 177 
 
 In default of Philip, who seemed to have 
 deserted her, Augusta took forcible possession 
 of the kinsman Beauvilliers. The son she heard 
 was married, the uncle too old : but this cousin 
 seemed a most suitable stop-gap, Philip being 
 truant ; and he in the most innocent manner 
 fell, as Augusta thought, open-hearted into the 
 trap. He was rather more innocent than Au- 
 gusta calculated on ; for she found that unless 
 she entered with warm interest into all that 
 concerned Lotty and her father, his attentions 
 soon flagged. However, as he was a fine, 
 handsome specimen of the Beauvillians, she 
 put up with a great deal of stupidity from him, 
 and contented herself with snubbing Lotty on 
 all private occasions, and hating her cordially 
 in her secret heart. But she was not pre- 
 pared for the following stroke of ill fortune. 
 
 She had beguiled Frank Beauvilliers (such 
 was his name) into a charming stroll under 
 the old oak avenue ; then and there she de- 
 termined to open upon him the full battery of 
 
 VOL. i. n
 
 178 MARGARET 
 
 her charms and amiability. The engaging, 
 pretty way in which she took his arm, the 
 innocent, kind look that she bestowed on him 
 from those beautiful orbs, might well deceive 
 a stronger mind than that belonging to an 
 open-hearted Beauvillian. Accordingly he be- 
 came more communicative and cordial than 
 was usual even with his race ; and said, in 
 answer to a very kind look, 
 
 "lam very much obliged to you indeed for 
 bringing me here ; I have something on my 
 mind, and you have been so kind and friendly 
 to me, I think I cannot do better than ask 
 your advice." 
 
 " I will give the best I can with the 
 greatest pleasure," said Augusta, not without 
 some wonder : for though she thought her 
 present lover an innocent, in the fullest sense 
 of the word, she did not think he was so very 
 young as to be about to propose, after a week's 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " What kind people these are here," said
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 179 
 
 the good Frank, " they are so thoughtful about 
 Mr. Beauvilliers ; Lady Leigh treats him like a 
 father, and he is as well taken care of here as 
 at home. And then so fond of Lotty : even 
 the old grand lady seems inclined to be kind 
 to her ; and as for the two Miss Leighs, I really 
 think they look upon Lotty as a sister." 
 
 " Very true," said Augusta, in a greater 
 state of amazement than ever. 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Clare, I think I never 
 met with kinder people." 
 
 " They are very kind certainly, Mr. Frank ; 
 but what has that to do with what you have to 
 confide to me?" 
 
 " Why, Miss Clare, it has a great deal to do 
 with it : I can assure you, yesterday, when 
 Miss Georgina Leigh was talking to me of 
 Lotty, and describing all her goodness, her 
 attentions to her father, her love for her re- 
 lations, and then her sense, her wit, her clever- 
 ness Really, Miss Clare, our girl is a perfect 
 
 wonder ; where she gets all her qualities from 
 
 n 2
 
 180 MARGARET 
 
 I cannot think, unless it was from her mother, 
 who was such a woman ! my dear Miss Clare." 
 
 " But what has all this to do with what you 
 have to say to me, Mr. Frank?" put in Augusta, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Truly I beg your pardon, Miss Clare, I 
 have wandered from the subject certainly ; I 
 always do when I talk of Lotty. However, 
 where was I ? oh ! to be sure, just w r here Miss 
 Georgina was talking to me. Really when she 
 said this, all in that low, quiet voice of hers, 
 I could have taken her hand and kissed it ; I 
 could indeed, Miss Clare !" 
 
 "But is that all, Mr. Frank, you had to 
 communicate ?" 
 
 " No, not quite, Miss Clare. I wished just 
 to ask your advice ; as a friend of the family, 
 you will perhaps be able to tell me if they 
 would be affronted, if they would take it amiss, 
 my just telling them my opinion." 
 
 " Of whom, and what, sir ?" said Augusta, 
 getting heartily sick of her companion.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 181 
 
 " Of Miss Georgina, Miss Clare. I should 
 like to propose for her, she is so fond of our 
 Lotty ; really I should like to do something to 
 show my sincere gratitude : and if Miss Geor- 
 gina would but consent to be my wife, I would 
 make her happiness — " 
 
 But Augusta had fled, from what cause the 
 innocent Beauvillian could not surmise. Per- 
 haps it was the heat, perhaps a bee had stung 
 her, and she did not like to inform him ; per- 
 haps she had seen some one she knew in the 
 distance. At any rate, the worthy Frank only 
 wondered at her flight, so long as he was 
 dubious whom he should select as her suc- 
 cessor in his confidence. 
 
 At first he thought it should be the next 
 person he met. Then it occurred to him, it 
 would be but right towards his chieftain to 
 consult him ; for he felt sure Mr. Beauvilliers 
 would be as anxious as he was himself, that 
 none of them should entertain ideas or wishes 
 that could not instantly be made known to the
 
 182 MARGARET 
 
 family. In fact, as a point of honour, Mr. 
 Frank felt that he must dismiss the amiable 
 Georgina from his thoughts, until he had fully 
 and thoroughly informed her family of his 
 feelings towards her. 
 
 Mr. Beauvilliers proved a much more efficient 
 confidant than Augusta. He not only listened 
 all through with great attention, but joined 
 heartily and cordially in all the digressions on 
 the virtues and extraordinary sense of " the 
 girl ;" and when the communication was sup- 
 posed to be fully detailed, he was quite ready 
 to listen to it all over again. 
 
 He duly appreciated Mr. Frank's first motive 
 for bestowing his affections on the amiable and 
 Lotty-loving Georgina : and nothing now re- 
 mained but to call in the other Beauvillians, 
 uncle and son, to participate in the confidence. 
 
 They both fully entered into the matter, 
 applauded Mr. Frank, and were quite jovial 
 over the expedition with which he had fallen 
 into love, but suggested no great improve-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 1S3 
 
 ments in the manner of proceeding in this 
 delicate matter. 
 
 So Lotty was sent for ; and as they all had 
 anticipated, and told each other it would be, 
 she hit upon the right plan in a moment ; 
 moreover she was highly pleased, and so praised 
 Mr. Frank for his judgment and discernment, 
 that he quite blushed. 
 
 Acting under Lotty's advice, the party pro- 
 ceeded to Lady Katherine's, and having told 
 what appeared to be the united wishes of the 
 party, asked leave for Mr. Frank to endeavour 
 to make himself agreeable to Miss Georgina. 
 
 Now many mothers, with two daughters 
 verging on thirty years of age, who had never 
 had an offer in their lives, and only that little 
 episode of the curate, nipped peremptorily in 
 the bud, as the nearest approach to a love affair^ 
 would have accepted at once, and in haste, this 
 unexpected, most sudden sort of love-at- first- 
 sight offer. 
 
 Not so Lady Katherine ; she took it as a
 
 184 MARGARET 
 
 matter of course ; she was thirty herself before 
 she thought of such things, and never dreamt 
 that her daughters would be so unmannerly as 
 not to follow her example. But she was very 
 gracious, and treated them to a series of court 
 anecdotes, which might have begun in matri- 
 mony, but certainly did not end in it : they 
 seemed also likely, by their length and repeti- 
 tion, to extend the interview to midnight. 
 
 Luckily the dressing bed reminded her that 
 other matters might demand their attention 
 besides listening to her. All Mr. Frank's 
 private affairs were laid before her, and as they 
 proved very satisfactory, he had permission 
 given him to try and win Miss Georgina's affec- 
 tion ; " But on no account," said Lady Kath- 
 erine, " be precipitate — the dear young 
 creature must not be prematurely alarmed ; 
 he had known her but a week, so she should 
 wish that a more lengthened period might 
 elapse before he made his proposals in due 
 form ; etiquette demanded it," &c, &c. Mr.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 185 
 
 Frank scrupulously obeyed Lady Katherine's 
 command, and said nothing of love to the 
 amiable Pro. ; but his Beauvillian descent 
 made it impossible for him not to betray his 
 wishes to every person in and around the place, 
 save the gentle object of his affections ; every- 
 body knew it, everybody was consulted, and 
 everybody helped him in his courtship, until he, 
 in the gratitude of his heart, wished he could 
 have married them all. 
 
 Pro. wondered at his attentions, but said 
 nothing, only to the mischievous Lotty she 
 might say ; " Your cousin, Mr. Frank, is a most 
 agreeable man, he has very fine eyes, some- 
 thing like yours, dear Lotty. "
 
 ISO MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Philip Leigh had now been shut up for 
 about a fortnight, that is, he had shut him- 
 self up. The dark spirit was upon him. He 
 was disgusted with himself, and everything 
 around him. He could not understand Lady 
 Leigh's character, it was an enigma to him ; 
 he was acting like a person in the dark ; he, 
 whose intellect commanded anything, was he 
 to be foiled by such simplicity as hers ? 
 
 And yet what was the use of his wearing 
 himself to death for nothing ? two healthy 
 lives, each likely to be longer than his, stood 
 between him and his long-wished-for title.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 1S7 
 
 Why need he teaze and worry himself about a 
 thing he could not prevent ? Why ! indeed : 
 but it had grown into a habit ; it had become 
 second nature, amounting almost to mo- 
 nomania. 
 
 He was growing tired of himself and his 
 thoughts, they were so mean and contemptible ; 
 but where was he to go ? what was he to do ? 
 There was no amusement in flirting with Miss 
 Clare. Like a moth hurrying around a candle, 
 she would only nutter about him to her own 
 detriment ; for as to marrying a woman of that 
 stamp, why he would sooner quit the world at 
 once, no matter how. As he meditated in this 
 desultory way, Philip heard shrieks, prolonged 
 and shrill. 
 
 A few bounds brought him to his own en- 
 trance gate, where was chained a large blood- 
 hound. Supported by a young girl, was the 
 lady of his late thoughts, Miss Clare, and from 
 her ruby lips came the fearful shrieks. 
 
 ct Miss Clare, my dear Miss Clare ! what is 
 the matter P" he cried.
 
 188 MARGARET 
 
 " The dog, oh ! that fearful dog !" screamed 
 Augusta. 
 
 "Hush!" said her companion, "Do you 
 not see the hound is chained up ?" 
 
 The speaker was shaded from Philip's sight 
 by a large hat ; she was also half smothered by 
 Augusta's larger, fuller figure. 
 
 " Come, Miss Clare, be pacified ; as your little 
 friend says, the hound is chained up," said 
 Philip. 
 
 " Will you protect me ?" gasped Augusta. 
 
 " Certainly ! take my arm." 
 
 " But I am so faint and ill." 
 
 " Can you walk as far as my house ?" 
 
 " What ! and pass that savage beast? oh ! 
 never." 
 
 "Coine, Augusta, don't be foolish," said 
 her companion, pettishly ; " as if a dog like that 
 would harm you." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Philip, " Miss 
 Clare is so far right, the dog is a very savage 
 one ; but he cannot harm her now, being 
 securely chained."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 1S9 
 
 " A hound like that, is only dangerous when 
 chained up," said the straw hat ; " if suffered 
 to be at large, he would be more gentle than a 
 lap-dog." 
 
 " You are mad ! child," said Augusta, " talk- 
 ing in that foolish way ; such a beast would 
 tear you limb from limb." 
 
 " It is not safe, I believe, to go near him," 
 said Philip. 
 
 As he spoke, the little girlish figure walked 
 straight up to the hound, and patting him on the 
 head, stood leaning against him. Then taking 
 off her hat, she put it playfully on the dog's 
 head, while she ran her little white fingers 
 through her dark curls ; and as they divided 
 with the touch, Philip saw, for the first time, 
 Charlotte Beauvilliers. 
 
 He deemed her some rare, old picture, des- 
 cended from its frame, walking about the world 
 to show what unstudied beauty was. 
 
 Lotty certainly was xcryjK'fife j though the 
 Beauvillians had assured each other she would 
 grow, yet she only did a very little.
 
 190 MARGARET 
 
 But it was such a pretty, little, light, elastic 
 figure, so rounded and well proportioned, so 
 supple and graceful ; the little, lovely throat 
 so stately and erect, and shown to such ad- 
 vantage by the small, well-folded down, white 
 collar. 
 
 Lotty had the Beauvillian mouth and nose, 
 the latter bending down with a slight approach 
 to a Roman nose, meeting the short upper lip, 
 with a curve to match ; both seemed to be in 
 perfect keeping with the full rosy lip below — 
 putting the gazer in mind of the pictures of 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds' children, but without 
 their archness ; for while in his pictures the 
 pointed chin seemed but the continuation 
 of the curved mouth and nose, Lotty's was 
 full and round, giving a decision and firmness 
 to her countenance, that the upper part of her 
 face fully bore out. 
 
 Clear, brilliant eyes, without a shadow in 
 them, looked full at Philip. No triumph, no 
 exultation in them, merely the calm, searching 
 gaze of an intelligent mind.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 191 
 
 He stood transfixed, at a loss what to say ; 
 but his whole heart occupied in looking at 
 the picture before him. The beautiful, dark 
 blood-hound, and the white-robed, childish 
 figure, how lovely they looked, thus grouped 
 together. 
 
 " Now, Augusta, you can pass ; I will keep 
 the dog quiet as you go by," said Lotty at last. 
 
 " You will be killed, you foolish child ! and 
 you will be rightly served," was Augusta's 
 answer. 
 
 Lotty put her hand under the hound's 
 mouth, and lifting it up, looked steadily into 
 the deep-set eyes ; then puttting her lips to his 
 shaggy forehead, she laughed and said, 
 
 " He is as quiet as an old sheep." 
 
 " It is wonderful," said Philip at last, " the 
 power you seem to have over him ; he is gene- 
 rally a most savage animal." 
 
 " That is because you chain him up ; if he 
 was my dog, he should be as free as air, poor 
 fellow !" 
 
 " Will you accept him ? you will oblige me
 
 192 MARGARET 
 
 much, if you will allow me the pleasure of pre- 
 senting him to you." 
 
 " I should like to have him very much," 
 said Lotty, frankly ; " he is the most splendid 
 fellow I ever saw ; he seems quite young too, 
 and has not lost his puppy coat." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to give so fine an 
 animal to one so worthy to possess him," was 
 the courteous reply. 
 
 " Then I may loose him ?" 
 
 " Oh ! don't ; don't for mercy's sake \" said 
 Augusta ; " I shall die if you do !" 
 
 " Pray, Miss Clare, come up to my small 
 abode, and have some restoratives after your 
 long walk and alarm. Then, while you are 
 resting, the hound can be loosed, and get over 
 his first transports before you return." 
 
 " But what is his name ?" asked the new 
 possessor. 
 
 " Bear," said Philip. 
 
 " Bear !" repeated Lotty, rather confusedly. 
 
 " Ah ! what a good name," said Augusta,
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 193 
 
 " it is her own, Mr. Leigh j great Bear and little 
 Bear " 
 
 " I cannot conceive how your young friend 
 can deserve such a name as Bear." 
 
 " Oh ! but she does, and I will prove it to 
 you as we walk to your house. Come, little 
 Bear." 
 
 " No, I thank you, I am not fatigued, and 
 want no refreshment : I shall stay here and 
 make acquaintance with my new friend :" and 
 turning to Philip, " I thank you, sir, very much 
 for such a gift ; I shall value it highly, and 
 you may rest assured I will be a kind mistress 
 to him, though at present I must ask you for 
 a small switch, as he might prove too rough in 
 his first use of liberty." 
 
 " I do not like to leave you quite alone with 
 him," said Philip. " I will return shortly, when 
 I have placed Miss Clare in the hands of my 
 housekeeper." 
 
 When Philip returned, the great Bear was 
 loose, indulging in the wildest gambols, and 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 MARGARET 
 
 the little Bear was standing on a great stone, 
 watching him with delight. Philip stood and 
 looked at her without her being conscious of 
 his return. 
 
 " Bear ! Bear !" she cried. The hound 
 bounded towards her. " Down, Bear, down ! 
 no rudeness, you beautiful fellow 7 ! kiss me, 
 Bear ; now be good and be off again." 
 
 " Bear ! Bear !" again she cried. This time 
 he was disobedient, and she stamped her little 
 foot and shook her little switch, calling " Bear," 
 in a peremptory manner, until he came slowly 
 and deprecatingly, his loving eyes glancing 
 furtively at the little switch, the little hand, 
 the little childish figure. " Naughty Bear ! dis- 
 obedient ! go, Lotty does not love you." 
 
 Philip could have watched her for hours, 
 the quick grace of her movements, the sweet 
 thrilling voice, the beautiful healthful face glow- 
 ing and happy, and her dress so picturesque 
 and quaint. The large hat with its long droop- 
 ing white feather, the cool dress w T ith its little
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 195 
 
 tight-fitting jacket, showing the white plaited 
 chemisette and round collar, the dainty little 
 boots ; she was a perfect picture. 
 
 "Well, have you made Bear pretty obe- 
 dient?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so. Do you know, I am very- 
 much obliged to you, for I have long wanted 
 a dog like this ; are you quite certain you can 
 part with him willingly ?" 
 
 " Quite certain to you ; but pray may I ask 
 the name of the fortunate Bear's mistress ?" 
 
 " You heard Miss Clare call me Bear too." 
 
 " But I presume I may not call you Miss 
 Bear?" 
 
 " You are welcome to do so if you wish it : 
 but now we must return home, having a long 
 way to walk." 
 
 " Miss Clare says she is too much fatigued 
 to walk back, I have therefore offered to drive 
 her to Court Leigh. Will you also favour me 
 with your company, Miss Bear ?" 
 
 " Ah, I knew very well when she asked me 
 
 o 2
 
 196 MARGARET 
 
 this morning to take a long walk, she would 
 never be able to accomplish it ; however, come 
 she would : I suppose she had a purpose. Per- 
 haps it was to see you, as you seem old friends." 
 
 " I do not presume to think so, Miss Bear, 
 I assure you ; but will you not return with me 
 to the house ?" 
 
 " No, I thank you, I walked here, and can 
 walk back. Good morning, and thank you. 
 Come, Bear." 
 
 And before Philip could say another word, 
 the great Bear and the little Bear were career- 
 ing along the meadows : utterly regardless 
 that they were leaving the company of the 
 handsome, witty, talented, courted Philip 
 Leigh: for aught they seemed to care, he 
 might have been ugly, stupid, and a grand- 
 father.
 
 and h::r bridesmaids. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Philip endeavoured to elicit something from 
 Miss Clare, on their drive home, regarding her 
 little companion. " Who is the child that was 
 with you?" said he. He saw into the depths 
 of Augusta's heart as well as though he were 
 there, and knew that he should gain no in- 
 formation if he showed any great interest in 
 the matter. 
 
 " Oh ! little Bear ; she is a sort of school- 
 fellow of mine." 
 
 " And what is her name, and how came 
 such a little uncongenial companion with you, 
 Miss Clare ?"
 
 193 MARGARET 
 
 " Yes, is she not a little absurdity ? Poor 
 child ! I believe she has been badly brought up, 
 or, at all events, has no mother, only tribes of 
 male relations, and they have made a little 
 groom of her." 
 
 " I dare say she will be passable-looking 
 when she grows up." Philip privately thought 
 her the prettiest thing he had ever seen. 
 
 " I believe she is grown up ; at all events, 
 she has left school." 
 
 "Where is she abiding now, that you 
 happened to be in her company ?" 
 
 "Oh, she is a wonderful friend of Marga- 
 ret's. How it happened I don't know, but 
 they have sworn a never-to-die friendship, and 
 they are as unlike each other as I am perhaps." 
 
 Here Augusta looked bewitchingly at Philip, 
 who answered as was expected : " Like you ! 
 Miss Clare, pray what possible thing on earth 
 can be likened to you ?" 
 
 Then followed sundry little interesting 
 passages in the true art of flirting, which can-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 199 
 
 not be described, as the initiated know that 
 words are not so expressive as looks on such 
 occasions. 
 
 However, Philip having done what he con- 
 sidered his duty, continued, — " What is the 
 name of your little friend ?" 
 
 " Dear me !" said Augusta, pettishly, " how 
 much you seem interested about that girl : her 
 name is Lotty, and she is staying at Court 
 Leigh with her father, and some rough, un- 
 couth sorts of men relations. If you stay to 
 dinner — and you are sure to be asked — you will 
 learn all about this pet of yours. But I know 
 you won't stay to dinner, just to provoke me. 
 I declare, if I am to be moped to death as I 
 have been for the last fortnight, I shall go home." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Clare, pray don't darken our 
 hemisphere by such a thought. Now that w T e 
 have seen the sun, can we exist should it leave 
 us ?" 
 
 Philip continued in this strain until the 
 drive came to an end, mentally resolving to
 
 200 MARGARET 
 
 indemnify himself by staying to dinner if he 
 were asked. Though he did not suppose the 
 little school-girl " Bear " would appear in full 
 company, he thought he might chance to get 
 a glimpse of her in the evening. 
 
 The quiet coolness with which she had 
 walked up to the hound in spite of his warning, 
 the unsophisticated delight with which she had 
 taken possession of Bear, without fear, without 
 nonsense of any kind, just suited his taste. 
 " I wish the child was a little older," thought 
 he. " There would be some pleasure in bend- 
 ing that little indomitable spirit to one's will ; 
 making such a little wilful thing in love with 
 one. Unlike some one who shall be nameless, 
 but who is unfortunately close by at present, 
 unlike the lovely, love-sick Margaret, unlike the 
 gentle, quiet Millicent. The first, did I marry 
 her, I should beat in a week ; the second would 
 pall me with sweetness ; the third, I should re- 
 spect and admire ; but wicked human nature 
 like mine is not given to love such saint-like 
 goodness."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 201 
 
 Philip Leigh was warmly welcomed back 
 again, and would have been forcibly detained 
 to dinner, had he not already consented to 
 remain. 
 
 As all were assembled for dinner, Philip 
 stood, his fine figure erect, his handsome face, 
 calm and proud, with the quiet disdain in his 
 dark eyes that was usual there. He had 
 been introduced to three Mr. Beauvilliers, all 
 bearing their honest, kind natures in their 
 countenances and appearance. 
 
 He was watching the amiable goodness 
 with which one of them was devoting himself 
 to the amusement of Pro., when the door 
 opened, and unmistakably a fourth Mr. Beau- 
 villiers appeared. The likeness to the others 
 was palpable; though an aged and white- 
 haired man, they seemed but as shadows in 
 his presence ; for a more magnificent specimen 
 of a fine old English gentleman, Philip had 
 never seen. And leaning his large, powerful 
 hand on the dimpled shoulder of a little figure
 
 202 MARGARET 
 
 by his side, Philip could scarcely believe, at 
 first, that he saw before him the little Bear, 
 and the occupier of his thoughts. 
 
 " Miss Beauvilliers and Mr. Beauvilliers," 
 said Harold, introducing them ; " my cousin, 
 Philip Leigh." 
 
 It was a habit of the Beauvillians always 
 to shake hands on an introduction, a good 
 hearty shake ; and Philip's hand was in that 
 powerful grasp, without his having withdrawn 
 his eyes from the little fairy figure. 
 
 " You are the gentleman who has been so 
 kind as to give my Lotty a very valuable pre- 
 sent. Thank ye, sir, thank ye ; shake hands, 
 Lotty, and let me hear you say thank ye, too," 
 said her father. 
 
 Lotty laid her little tiny hand for a mo- 
 ment in Philip's, who could hardly believe 
 he held anything, after her father's gigantic 
 grasp. Then saying, in a soft, but clear 
 voice, "Thank you, Mr. Leigh," she put the 
 great hand on her shoulder again, and guided
 
 A"SD HER BRIDESMAIDS. 203 
 
 her father's feeble feet to a large chair in the 
 window. There was no look of the child 
 about her now. 
 
 " Do you know," said Philip, after dinner, 
 when he had contrived to get a seat near her, 
 " I took you for a little girl." 
 
 " I suppose no one would consider me a 
 big one," answered Lotty. 
 
 " I mean," said Philip, rather put out by 
 her answer, " that I really thought you were a 
 child. If I had known that you w T ere Miss 
 Beauvilliers, I should have treated you with 
 greater respect." 
 
 "And ought not children to have polite 
 treatment as well as ladies ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, certainly they ought ; 
 but Miss Clare so puzzled me about you, I 
 fear I ran into great mistakes, and must beg 
 you will grant me forgiveness." 
 
 " If I find no fault, I do not see why you 
 need be penitent." 
 
 "I will forgive myself, then, for having
 
 204 MARGARET 
 
 fallen into such an error. But permit me to 
 ask, did you reach home in safety ? did Bear 
 behave as so noble a dog should, transferred 
 to such lovely hands ?" 
 
 " We arrived in safety, and I make no doubt, 
 Bear will be much happier with me than you, 
 for he will have his liberty." 
 
 " You have been here a fortnight, have you 
 not ? and I never knew it ; what a dolt I have 
 been," said Philip. 
 
 "Perhaps so. But I do not know you 
 sufficiently well to assent to your judgment 
 as yet," replied Lotty. 
 
 " Surely you can see that I consider myself 
 a dolt, for having deprived myself, for one 
 whole fortnight, of an introduction to you," 
 continued Philip, trying his usual style of 
 conversation with Augusta. 
 
 " I think it was unlucky for Bear ; but as 
 for you and I, I do not suppose we shall care 
 for each other, at the end of a fortnight, more 
 than we do now."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 205 
 
 " Nay, Miss Beauvilliers, you are unkind 
 to me. May I not look forward to being fa- 
 voured with your esteem, and then, perhaps, 
 regard, if I prove worthy of such friendship ?" 
 
 Those large, clear, brilliant eyes, looked full 
 into his. The scrutiny seemed satisfactory. 
 
 " I am not likely to think with indifference 
 of the person who has given me so great a 
 pleasure as the possession of Bear. But here 
 is my father coming, and Miss Clare has been 
 looking at you for the last hour, wondering 
 how you can prefer such childish company to 
 hers." 
 
 She was at the door ere he could stop her. 
 It opened, Mr. Beauvilliers was there, as she 
 said. " Ab, my darling !" the fond father cried, 
 " as usual, always ready. I came so quietly ; 
 but no, I cannot move, but my Lotty hears." 
 The massive hand leant on the little, slight 
 girl, and when placed in his chair, with Lotty 
 on the arm of it, Philip saw he could hope 
 for no further word from the little Bear ; so
 
 206 MARGARET 
 
 he talked to Augusta, and looked at Lotty, 
 and was not unhappy. 
 
 It was a sight to see the father and daughter 
 together. Lotty seemed to feel intuitively when 
 her father wanted his cushions changed, which 
 foot he would like placed on the footstool, 
 what subject he most affected to converse upon ; 
 while at no time did the fine, massive, old 
 frame move, but the large hand rested on the 
 slight figure, sometimes on the round, little 
 ivory shoulder, sometimes on the rich waving 
 curls, but at all times it felt its treasure within 
 its grasp. 
 
 There sat Lotty like a little queen, her ra- 
 diant eyes speaking straight into the heart — 
 " I know my duty, and I love it, and fulfil it ;" 
 and the loving Beauvillians would sit round, 
 and pay her the homage she deserved. 
 
 And they seemed to have brought the bless- 
 ing of their fine frank natures on the dull old 
 house of Court Leigh. Harold was no longer 
 morose or unhappy, or inclined to quarrel with
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 207 
 
 Gerald ; Margaret was as beaming and smiling 
 as the happiest wife and mother could be. 
 Lady Katherine stepped forth from out of 
 her courtly state manners, in a way quite as- 
 tonishing to those who knew her. The ice of 
 reserve and etiquette was thawing under the 
 genial glow of the Beauvilliers. 
 
 As for Pru. and Pro., for the first time in 
 their lives, they felt young ; and when Pru., 
 (having had that little curate experience, 
 several times mentioned before), suggested to 
 Pro., that Mr. Frank really seemed very par- 
 ticular in his attentions ; the gentle Pro. 
 blushed, and the blush remained on her some- 
 what faded cheek, giving her so pretty a bloom, 
 that Mr. Frank grew quite rampant for the 
 days of his probation to be over. 
 
 Gerald's uncompromising sternness gave 
 way before the hearty goodwill of the Beau- 
 villiers. 
 
 "My dear sir," said the fine old squire, 
 when Gerald, in the flush of his anxious
 
 208 MARGARET 
 
 heart, to do good to all who came in his way, 
 offered to read and talk daily with him — 
 (for the days of this aged pilgrim were 
 numbered, as he himself knew full well) — 
 " My dear sir, God be merciful to me a 
 sinner. At my age, with the seeds of a 
 mortal disease within me, it does not become 
 me to inquire into any new creed, or way of 
 worshipping God. I ask myself, have I done 
 my duty well ? and I can only answer, to the 
 best of my ability, I have tried. " 
 
 " But, my dear sir, you must confess before 
 God, that you are a miserable, blind, poor, 
 lost sinner. Do you feel the need of a Sa- 
 viour r 
 
 " I do not feel the need. I feel I have 
 Him ; God be thanked for the peace and calm 
 of my closing years." 
 
 " That, I am afraid* is not sufficient. We 
 must purge out the old man with fasting, 
 prayer, and penitence ; we must not leave 
 a single sin unexposed, unconfessed. Ah !
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. .209 
 
 my dear sir, think of the beatitude of such a 
 state of sinless repose." 
 
 " Every man, my dear Mr. Herbert, must 
 not expect such a lot, or where would be the 
 need of the Saviour ? I am apt to think now, 
 at the end of the days of my pilgrimage, that 
 this our state is not so much to attain per- 
 fection, as to work the daily task of human 
 life, by which we may be rewarded with per- 
 fection." 
 
 " I see what you mean, Mr. Beauvilliers ; 
 but such an error is dangerous, most dan- 
 gerous." 
 
 " It will be dangerous for my father to sit 
 here any longer in this draught, Gerald/' 
 would Lotty say ; " so while I take him into 
 the house, go and preach to Augusta, or some 
 other great sinner." 
 
 Then would Gerald look grave, and perhaps 
 rebuke Lotty for being flippant, who would 
 answer gravely back again — 
 
 " I am ready to confess, and be sorry." 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Mr. Frank's days of probation were over, 
 Lady Katherine having graciously conde- 
 scended to say, that the time deemed fit by 
 propriety, decorum, and courtly example, being 
 fulfilled, he was at liberty to make his pro- 
 posals to Miss Georgina herself. And in 
 furtherance of such object, she said to the 
 astonished Pro. — 
 
 " Get your parasol, and take a turn with 
 Mr. Prank under the walnut trees/' 
 
 Certainly, this was rather a public place for 
 such a circumstance, inasmuch as the avenue 
 was commanded from every window in her 
 house, as well as those of Court Leigh.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 211 
 
 Pro. never dreamt of disobeying, and Mr. 
 Frank, fortified with various powerful shakes 
 of the hand from his kinsmen, and many good 
 wishes for his success, departed with the 
 amiable object of his affections at a decorous 
 distance from his side. 
 
 Most men would have been nervous had 
 they supposed themselves to be under the 
 surveillance of many curious eyes (though 
 no words could be heard) in such delicate 
 circumstances : but it was a peculiarity of 
 the Beauvillians that they could do nothing in 
 secret or alone. Therefore Mr. Frank thought 
 with pleasure and satisfaction, of the eager 
 and anxious Beauvillian eyes that would be 
 scanning his every action, as he took this 
 eventful walk. 
 
 Lady Katherine also took her station at her 
 window, that she might be able to judge with 
 her own eyes, that the proposal was made 
 and accepted according to the strictest rules 
 of etiquette. Pro. herself was the only un- 
 
 p 2
 
 212 MARGARET 
 
 conscious person in all these base plots, and 
 went, perhaps a little fluttered, but quite an 
 innocent victim to her destiny. 
 They walk about a yard apart. 
 Mr. Frank bows. 
 
 " He is beginning," say the eager Beau- 
 villians, from their windows. 
 
 " Very respectful," thinks Lady Katherine, 
 from her window. 
 
 Pro. starts, and Mr. Frank bows lower. 
 " He is in full cry," exclaim his sympathetic 
 kinsmen. 
 
 " Poor child ! how fluttered she will be," 
 murmurs Lady Katherine. 
 
 Pro. stops short, then starts again, as if 
 about to run away. Mr. Frank places himself 
 before her, and bows lower than ever. 
 
 " He is well on the scent," cry the Beau- 
 villian windows. 
 
 " I almost think he is at this moment pro- 
 posing," says the other window. 
 
 Pro. drops her parasol, and attempts to
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 213 
 
 grasp at it. Mr. Frank takes the extended 
 hand in his. 
 
 " Bravo, Frank ! that's the way : you have 
 her now !" cry the Beauvillians. 
 
 "Oh!" gasps Lady Katherine; she half 
 thought she must shut her eyes, but her anx- 
 iety to see that all was conducted with the 
 strictest propriety, made her look more vigi- 
 lantly than ever. 
 
 Pro. puts her handkerchief to her eyes ; Mr. 
 Prank bows lower than ever, so low indeed, 
 that surely he is kissing her hands. 
 
 " Tis done ! she's won !" shout the Beau- 
 villians. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh dear !" cries Lady Katherine, 
 and vanishes from the window, for fear he 
 should do it again, or something worse. 
 
 Mr. Prank was seen to draw the lady's arm 
 within his, in a very tender and gallant man- 
 ner, then picking up the parasol, he bore off 
 his prize to a more shady and secluded walk. 
 Not, however, without giving his hat a sort of
 
 .214 MARGARET 
 
 flourish in the air, which was the sign agreed 
 upon to denote his complete success, ere they 
 disappeared. 
 
 Though all the Beauvillians were impatient 
 to the last degree to shake Mr. Frank's hand 
 off in hearty congratulations, and to bestow 
 kinsmanly salutes upon the bride-elect's cheek, 
 it was deemed only right and kind to send 
 Lotty first, for fear she should be overcome ; 
 the loving little Lotty, who by winning the 
 gentle Pro.'s heart, had inspired Mr. Frank 
 with such a prodigious idea of her sense and 
 discernment. 
 
 Lotty met them after an hour's absence. 
 Mr. Frank was like a sun-flower ; so broad 
 and expansive was his triumphant delight. 
 Pro. had shrunk between bashfulness and be- 
 wilderment into such a shred, that she was 
 quite hidden behind the glowing Mr. Frank. 
 
 " How do you do, dear cousin Georgina ?" 
 said Lotty, smiling. 
 
 " Oh ! dear," cried Pro., getting quite limp
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS, 215 
 
 and damp, with a sudden gush of tears ; 
 " how very nice ! and you, darling Lotty, is 
 it true, that we shall be cousins ? Dear ! 
 dear ! how am I ever to believe this wonderful 
 thing I" 
 
 " I knew you would be pleased, dearest 
 Georgia," said the gallant Mr. Frank, " at 
 being Lotty 's cousin. I felt more certain that 
 you would accept me on that account than any 
 other." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Pro., innocently ; 
 " you are very kind to say so, Mr. Frank, 
 that is just it. But, indeed, I ought to say, 
 that you — that is all — in fact, my sister and 
 I think there never was any family like yours, 
 dear Lotty, for goodness and kindness. " 
 
 " May you ever think so, dear, sweet Geor- 
 gina," exclaimed Mr. Frank, pressing her hand 
 so tenderly, that Pro. grew quite nervous, and 
 looked helplessly at Lotty to relieve her. 
 
 " I thank you also, cousin Georgina," said 
 Lotty, " and I am sure you will find out
 
 216 MARGARET 
 
 shortly, of all the Beauvillians, big and little, 
 there is no one so good as cousin Frank." 
 
 " Shall I indeed ?" said the innocent Pro. 
 
 " Yes, that you will. See how Margaret 
 loves Harold; that's just the way you will 
 love Frank, and be running after him all day, 
 in the same silly manner. " 
 
 " No affection that my Georgina deigns to 
 bestow on me, clear Lotty, will be thrown 
 away, as you know/' replied Mr. Frank. 
 
 " Well, that being clearly arranged, I think 
 you two ought to go to Lady Katherine, to 
 get kissed and blessed. After that, you know, 
 cousin Georgina, you must take to loving Frank 
 instead of me, and I shall expect in a few days, 
 to hear you calling out, at the top of your voice, 
 ' My darling Frank.' " 
 
 " I shall ever love you, dear Lotty, in my 
 heart of hearts," whispered the half- smiling, 
 half-crying Pro. 
 
 The whole of that evening was spent quite as 
 an April day. When the Beauvillians took
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 217 
 
 the lead, the sun seemed to shine out in the 
 most refulgent manner ; when Lady Kathe- 
 rine spoke, little gentle drippings of rain 
 poured down, in the shape of tears, from her- 
 self, Pru. and Pro. 
 
 On the whole, it was a most exciting even- 
 ing ; but Lotty was not prepared when she 
 went to their room to wish her new cousin good 
 night, to find the two sisters in convulsions of 
 grief. 
 
 " Hey-day !" said Lotty, " what is the mat- 
 ter, that you are howling like two naughty 
 children ?" 
 
 " We have never been separated," sobbed 
 Pru. 
 
 " I only wish Charlotte could marry too," 
 sighed Pro. 
 
 " I see not the slightest objection to that/' 
 said Lotty ; " I will send for another of my 
 cousins, or one of my brothers." 
 
 " Xo, no ! oh, no, no ! that won't do," cried 
 Pru.
 
 218 MARGARET 
 
 " I don't know, Charlotte, but I think it 
 might," said Pro. 
 
 " No, no ! oh, no, no !" again cried Pru. 
 
 With a great deal of trouble and difficulty, 
 Lotty was at last made aware that there was 
 once a curate. 
 
 "Well! so there are now," said Lotty, 
 " numbers, if Charlotte wants to marry a cler- 
 gyman. I don't think any of our people are 
 in that line, Pro." 
 
 " But it was not any curate ; it was one, 
 one in particular." 
 
 And the elderly, but most simple-hearted 
 Pru. poured forth the long-cherished secret of 
 her heart into the unsympathizing bosom of 
 the little girlish mischief, Lotty. 
 
 " Well, don't cry so. If he is half worthy 
 of you, he is still unmarried." 
 
 "Yes, I know he is," sobbed Pru., "that 
 makes me so — so — so — " the rest of the sen- 
 tence was lost in a burst of grief. 
 
 "Now do cheer up, Pru., and listen to
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 219 
 
 reason. When Pro. is married and settled, 
 she could have you to visit her ; then she could 
 ask the curate, and then you would meet. 
 Now, what could be nicer than that ?" 
 
 " And I icill ask him, dear Charlotte ; and 
 Mr. Frank, I know will help me, and ask him 
 too, and then, perhaps, as darling Lotty says, 
 it will all turn out so nicely." 
 
 But Pru. still wept sorely. 
 
 " Now, Pru., you are naughty," said Lotty, 
 with great ferocity, knitting her brows, and 
 looking as bearish as she could. " Here is 
 your sister so happy, going to marry a Beau- 
 villiers, and he my cousin, and you are weep- 
 ing like Niobe." 
 
 "We have never been separated before, dear 
 Lotty," sobbed Pru., jerking out her words 
 between each sob. 
 
 "lam sure if the law would allow it, Prank 
 would marry you both, if he could. But as 
 it won't, you must make up your mind to 
 Pro.'s loss."
 
 220 MARGARET 
 
 " I — I — ca'-a'-ant, dea-e-ar Lo-otty !" 
 
 " I will not marry, then, dearest Charlotte, 
 said Pro. ; " I will never leave you." 
 
 " There," said Lotty, indignantly, " there, 
 what a fine specimen of sisterly affection I 
 see before me. Two fond and loving hearts 
 separated, because you are so selfish, Charlotte." 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh, do'-o'-o'- nt, dear Lotty !" 
 
 " Made miserable for ever, perhaps they 
 will both pine away and die, and then, when 
 Pro. is the bride of 'death, as novels say, what 
 will you do then, you unkind Charlotte ?" 
 
 " Oh, oh, I am so sorry, I will say no more ; 
 dear Lotty ! pray forgive me. Oh ! dear, 
 dear Georgina, take my best wishes for your 
 happiness. " 
 
 " Now, that's a good girl. And when you 
 see Pro. so happy, acting her very self in her 
 new home, and doing the civil and polite to 
 you, when you pay her a visit ; think how 
 delighted you will be, and you will say to 
 yourself — 'I consented to the marriage.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 221 
 
 Great as was the sacrifice, I helped to make 
 my Pro. thus happy.' ' 
 
 Warmed by this glowing description, Pru. 
 dried her eyes, and permitted herself to be 
 comforted.
 
 222 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Philip Leigh no longer shut himself up. 
 On the contrary, he was never at home. A 
 master-passion had taken possession of his soul, 
 under the influence of which the long-nou- 
 rished flourishing plant of envy and malice 
 withered and shrank until it appeared to die. 
 
 He kept up a semblance of attentions to 
 Augusta. In fact, she demanded them, and 
 was one of those helpless exigeante sorts of 
 young ladies who immediately they see any 
 specimen of the male species near them, be- 
 come in instant want of a thousand little in- 
 dispensable absurdities.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 223 
 
 Philip would watch the woman-child with 
 his quiet, thoughtful eyes, while he adminis- 
 tered to Augusta's many little wishes, the 
 non-fulfilment of which seemed to threaten 
 her with immediate destruction. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Leigh ! I have been dying for 
 you to arrive, and play billiards with me ; and 
 if you don't come immediately, I shall expire 
 with impatience." 
 
 "Pray don't, Miss Clare," returned Philip, 
 " as I shall be under the necessity of acting 
 chief mourner." 
 
 " And would you not grieve for me ?" mur- 
 mured Augusta, laying a stress on the personal 
 pronoun, nominative case. 
 
 " I fear I should be quite insensible to any- 
 thing, Miss Clare," said Philip, catching Lotty's 
 amused glance at Augusta's delighted assump- 
 tion of the one meaning, and utter unconsci- 
 ousness of the other and more palpable one. 
 
 "Don't you think so, Miss Beauvilliers ?" 
 continued Philip, who never lost an opportu- 
 nity of provoking Lotty to talk.
 
 224 MARGARET 
 
 "You ought to be," answered Lotty, 'drily. 
 
 " And pray, child, what can you know 
 about such things ? You are as bad as Mr. 
 Herbert with your c oughts, 5 " said Augusta. 
 
 " As ' good' would have been more appro- 
 priate, Augusta." 
 
 " Oh ! we are getting better, are w r e ? We 
 are going to church to early prayers — " 
 
 " No, not going," said Lotty. 
 
 " I am sure I am devoutly glad to hear it," 
 said Augusta, with as near an approach to a 
 sneer as her pretty face w T ould allow. 
 
 " 'Tis as well to be devout about some 
 tilings," said the imperturbable Lotty. 
 
 " But you are devoutly thankful for nothing, 
 Miss Clare," said Philip. " Miss Beauvilliers 
 only said she was not going to early prayers. 
 Now she may have gone." 
 
 " Oh, the little Puseyite ! Pray take me 
 away, Mr. Leigh; I shall be contaminated. 
 Little absurd Bear ! I shall tell your father, 
 and get you put into the corner." Lotty raised
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 225 
 
 her eyes and looked at the fond old father. 
 As she caught his glance, a look of such un- 
 utterable love and fondness broke over her 
 face, that Philip was quite startled. 
 
 In a moment she was on the arm of the old 
 cushioned chair, the large, loving hand was on 
 her dark curls ; she looked like a little pearl 
 gleaming in the clasp of a grand, old, hoary 
 Neptune. 
 
 What a protean little thing it was — never 
 two minutes the same. Staid, womanly, and 
 thoughtful in all that concerned her father ; 
 wild, laughing, and childish with Pru. and 
 Pro. ; clever, witty, and sensible with Mar- 
 garet and Millie ent ; sharp, irascible, and sar- 
 castic with Augusta and Philip ; and in each 
 and everything the most bewitching little fairy 
 that ever crossed mortal eye. 
 
 It was a most lovely summer day, so much 
 so, that when Philip appeared for his now 
 daily visit, he found the whole party, includ- 
 ing even Mr. Beauvilliers, out under the trees, 
 
 vol. I. Q
 
 226 MARGARET 
 
 all employed in different ways. Augusta called 
 the visitor to her side, saying, " Mr. Leigh, I 
 have kept this place for you." 
 
 Philip surveyed them all. Lady Katherine 
 had a tree to herself, knotting away with dili- 
 gent industry at what was of no use in the 
 world, as she had already by her the life- 
 labours of herself and daughters at this inte- 
 resting work, almost all in an unappropriated 
 state. Millicent and Margaret had the next 
 tree, Harold half dozing on the grass by Mar- 
 garet's side, and half interested in a French 
 novel. Little Harold lay sleeping between 
 them. No wonder, therefore, that Margaret's 
 cheek glowed and her soft eyes sparkled — she 
 had all she loved within her touch. 
 
 A little out of the line, but in full sight of 
 Lady Katherine, sat Mr. Frank and the gentle 
 Georgina, she pretending to knot, and he pre- 
 tending to help her. Pro. was fast losing her 
 name. Under the influence of the Beauvillian 
 bonhommie, Mr. Frank had absolutely saluted 
 his bride elect, and that in the presence of
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 227 
 
 Lotty ; but, however, no one told Lady Katli- 
 erine. Pru., Augusta, and Philip were under 
 another tree ; not far from them was Mr. 
 Beauvilliers , chair, on the arm of which was 
 perched the Little Bear — Great Bear serving as 
 a cushion for the old gentleman's feet. 
 
 Presently the Little Bear slid down, and 
 pulling the Great Bear by his ears, with many 
 fond and loving epithets, she so arranged him, 
 as to change Mr. Beauvilliers' position. 
 
 " Thanks, my darling ! — thanks ! that has 
 eased me greatly," said the fond father. 
 
 " How you do teaze that dog, Lotty !" cried 
 Augusta. 
 
 "Do I teaze you, my Bear?" asked the 
 childish Lotty, as she kissed him ; and his 
 great red tongue licked her little white hand. 
 
 Great Bear looked up a loving, intelligent 
 answer from his deep-set eyes. 
 
 "Dear Lotty teaze anything !" cried Pru., 
 quite in a flush. " Oh, no, Augusta !" 
 
 " She does ! She is the most thoughtless, 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 MARGARET 
 
 heedless child that ever was ! You did very 
 wrong, Mr. Leigh, to trust your fine dog to 
 her/' continued Augusta. 
 
 Mr. Beauvilliers laid his hand on the pretty 
 head. " Yes, yes ; she is a naughty, unkind 
 Lotty !" In the innocence of his heart, he 
 thought Augusta was as ironical in her remarks 
 as himself. 
 
 " How will you punish me, father ?" said 
 Lotty, still in her childish glee. 
 
 " I think I wo'nt love you, Lotty," and the 
 little thing was instantly folded in that large 
 embrace. 
 
 " Little Lotty," said Millicent, " I hope you 
 did not get wet this morning ; the dew was 
 so heavy." 
 
 " Ah, me !" exclaimed Augusta, " the little 
 Puseyite has been to church this morning." 
 
 " Did you think of your fond old father, 
 my Lotty?" said Mr. Beauvilliers. 
 " Yes, father ; you know I did." 
 " I know it, my child ; but I like to hear you 
 sav so."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 229 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Beauvilliers ! how can you en- 
 courage Lotty in such popish things ?" asked 
 Augusta. 
 
 " I am sorry if they are popish, Miss Clare ; 
 but my Lotty comes in to me from her early 
 prayers with the fresh beauty of a young 
 Christian surrounding: her." 
 
 "And she is one," whispered Pru., as if to 
 herself. 
 
 "Now, Lotty/' said Augusta, "come here 
 and confess : why do you go so early to 
 church ?" 
 
 " To say my prayers." 
 
 " Pooh, child ! I know that ; but what other 
 reason can you give ?" 
 
 "To get wet with the early dew." 
 
 " You are more bearish than ever, Lotty ; 
 but I see it is useless trying to get a sensible 
 answer from such a baby as you are !" 
 
 " Perhaps, I think you would not under- 
 stand my answer." 
 
 " That is so likely, little goose ! however, 
 tell it to me ; I must know."
 
 230 MARGARET 
 
 " Then/' said Lotty, standing erect before 
 them, " I will tell you my reasons. In the 
 first place, when I heard that Gerald was esta- 
 blishing the early service in the small village, 
 and celebrating the saints' days, besides other 
 things, I questioned to myself the propriety 
 of his doing so." 
 
 "Dear me! how kind you were, and how 
 wise you have grown." 
 
 "Pray hush, Miss Clare," said Philip ; " I 
 am very anxious." 
 
 " So am I, dying with curiosity." 
 
 "And I," said Margaret, " am also curious ; 
 I put faith in my little Lotty's reasons." 
 
 "But before I could pass judgment," con- 
 tinued Lotty, " I said to myself, that I must 
 make a trial thereof. And I have done so." 
 
 " And pray what is the result ?" said one 
 and all. 
 
 " I think Gerald will not succeed in his 
 wishes. The present generation are not that 
 primitive race of former days, who, having but
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 231 
 
 little labour on hand, gladly accepted any 
 occupation for the early hours that were then 
 kept. We can no more force upon the people 
 of this age the religious services and duties 
 that occupied their many leisure hours in 
 earlier times, than we can make them use 
 rushes for carpets, and sheepskins for clothing. 
 Healthy, active, honest industry is religion of 
 itself. True, people may say, that such ser- 
 vices occupy but half-an-hour in a day, and 
 that it must be sweet to the labouring man to 
 go to his work, straight from his God : but 
 he does not carry all that his heart holds dear 
 with him ; wife and children, or some part of 
 his family, are left at home from necessity. 
 Therefore, I think, if Gerald inculcated family 
 prayer at home, he would be doing more good. 
 That is more fitted for the present day." 
 
 " Then why do you go. child?" said Augusta. 
 
 "Because," saidLotty, her large eyes grow- 
 ing soft and dark, as the shadow of sorrow 
 passed into them, " I have a prayer to make
 
 232 MARGARET 
 
 to God " she paused, and continued low, 
 
 " for a life that I love. And besides/' she 
 continued louder, " I like to run a race with 
 the sun. I love to see his bright face gilding 
 up the world, the little dew-drops just waiting 
 to welcome him, and then imperceptibly va- 
 nishing. I like to feel fresh and free, as the 
 young bright day ; and I like to take all my 
 first feelings to God, in His house. And the 
 world is so beautiful in the early morning. — 
 Now, father, here is the round cushion, it is 
 his turn now ; and Bear, Bear, you dear old 
 thing ! turn yourself round." 
 
 " I think, Lotty," said Harold, rousing him- 
 self, "you made some sensible remarks just 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, she found them in some book," in- 
 terrupted Augusta. 
 
 " Indeed I did," answered Lotty. 
 
 " There, I told you so," exclaimed Augusta. 
 
 " And what book, little Lotty ?" asked Mil- 
 licent.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 233 
 
 " It is before you," said Lotty, spreading 
 out her bands, and looking with glowing eyes 
 on the scene around them. 
 
 " I did not think vou were so romantic, 
 Lotty," said Harold. 
 
 "I was speaking for you, Harold," said 
 Lotty; "just saying what you would say, as 
 master and head of all here. And thus, Ha- 
 rold, you think of the Forest, and all its love- 
 liness. People talk of architecture, and laws 
 of beauty, and lines of grace. Take the arch 
 of an avenue, and see if lordly man can build 
 such symmetry of grace as that. When we 
 were at Montagu House, Basil used to show 
 us all the beauties of the Forest, did he not, 
 Margaret ? And so we came to love trees and 
 Basil together, and both most dearly." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so, little Lotty," 
 said a voice behind the tree ; Lotty turned, 
 and with a glad cry, sprang towards the 
 speaker. He placed both hands round her 
 slight waist, and lifting her, as a feather, from 
 the ground, kissed her on both cheeks.
 
 234 MARGARET 
 
 " Oil don't, Basil ; remember I have left 
 school," said Lotty. 
 
 " Is that any reason why I should love my 
 little Lotty less ?" said Basil, smiling. 
 
 Millicent was in his arms ; Harold sprang 
 up with alacrity ; Margaret gave him a sister's 
 welcome ; Augusta arranged her curls. Basil 
 was a better parti than Philip ; Lady Kathe- 
 rine was most gracious and benign ; but all 
 this warm, hearty welcome was nothing to Philip 
 in comparison to the first one. A flush of 
 rage, made a strange tumultuous beating of his 
 heart ; and when he saw the noble, expressive 
 countenance, the calm, serene eyes, with no- 
 thing of the youth about him, but the fair, 
 waving curls, all the manly bearing of fine ath- 
 letic grace and power, Philip felt the wild demon 
 of jealousy was running through his veins. 
 The blood of the Leighs was hot and tempes- 
 tuous when roused. He could have shot the 
 noble specimen of a man that stood before him, 
 like a dog.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " Ah, Basil, why did you not come before ?" 
 cried Millicent. 
 
 " Yes," said Harold, " make a clean breast 
 of it, my dear fellow, and confess why you have 
 been so long in fulfilling your promise of visit- 
 ing us." 
 
 " We have been expecting you with so much 
 anxiety," added Margaret. 
 
 " I can assure you, Lord Erlscourt," said 
 Lady Katherine, " your reception has been 
 daily thought of, and cared for, though your 
 unexpected arrival has not permitted us to 
 show you this respect."
 
 236 MARGARET 
 
 Basil smiled, and answered, " I had a very 
 poor reception, I can assure you, Lady Kath- 
 erine ; for when I arrived at the Rectory, there 
 was no kind sister to welcome me ; no one, 
 but a man, whom I supposed to be my bro- 
 ther, but who was so deeply absorbed in 
 writing his sermon, that all he did was to 
 show me the door, and direct me in the path 
 to Court Leigh." 
 
 " But why did you not come before ?" said 
 Millicent. 
 
 "Do you not know, Milly, dear, that I 
 have affairs to attend to, more than all children ? 
 The two boys had set their hearts on spending 
 their holidays in the Forest with me. I can 
 assure you we have had a merry time." 
 
 " They must be very different children to 
 what they were, Basil." 
 
 "lam glad to say, quite so, Milly. In fact, 
 I am so proud of them, that I half thought 
 of bringing them down to see you." 
 
 " Pray, dear Basil, do so, their next holi- 
 days."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 237 
 
 " But now, Basil," said Margaret, " you 
 must be introduced to three people — Miss 
 Clare, Mr. Leigh, Lord Erlscourt." 
 
 As Basil lifted his hat from his head, and 
 displayed his whole face to their view, Philip 
 felt inclined to curse him in his heart, while 
 Augusta mentally exclaimed, 
 
 "He is too beautiful for a man !" 
 
 The noble brow was shaded by almost 
 feminine curls, so light and silky were they, 
 the dark blue grey eyes beamed with sweet- 
 ness but energy, while a lingering shadow in 
 them imparted a look of grave dignity to his 
 whole countenance, that befitted an older man. 
 But when he spoke, and this smile gleamed 
 out, the laughing innocence of a fair, bright 
 boy, seemed to take the place of the older man. 
 
 "But where is the third ?" said Basil. 
 
 " Here !" said Margaret, placing her boy 
 in his arms. 
 
 Philip noted the instant change of coun- 
 tenance, the sudden shock, that made the
 
 238 MARGARET 
 
 strong frame tremble with its light burthen, 
 but as he looked, it was gone. Whatever 
 Basil felt, it passed away with the kiss he 
 gave Margaret's boy, and his countenance was 
 serene as ever, when he raised it. 
 
 " I am no judge of babies, Margaret," said 
 he, " only of rough, hardy school-boys ; and 
 I will show my two against the world." 
 
 "I am glad you have come now, Basil," 
 said Lotty; "for we are going home in a 
 week." 
 
 " I intend, Lotty, to beguile you and your 
 father to my forest home some day," returned 
 Basil. 
 
 " Will you go, father ?" asked Lotty, ea- 
 gerly. 
 
 " Yes, my best Lotty." 
 
 " And see, Basil, what a splendid hound I 
 have." 
 
 " Beautiful ; upon my word, he is superb ! 
 with him, little Lotty, we shall have rare sport." 
 
 Philip's heart grew calmer, as he witnessed
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 239 
 
 the sort of childish behaviour of Lotty to Lord 
 Erlscourt ; and when he left with his sister, 
 was quite ready to join with Augusta in her 
 praises. 
 
 " So handsome, so distingue, so elegant/' 
 she said. 
 
 " So good, so noble, so brave/' echoed a 
 little mocking voice behind her. 
 
 " You little bear !" 
 
 " Then forbear, Augusta, applying such 
 epithets to Basil. In looking at him, one does 
 not think so much of his personal appearance 
 as his character." 
 
 " Oh ! if we are going to have a sermon, I 
 shall retire." 
 
 It did not take Basil many days to discover 
 that beneath the polished surface of their life, 
 there was a sure, though slumbering, volcano 
 sleeping, that required but little to boil over ; 
 especially as Gerald confided to him, in glow- 
 ing, lofty language, the supineness, indolence, 
 and in difference of the squire of his parish ;
 
 240 MARGARET 
 
 while Harold, in his turn, dilated on the stern 
 exactness, and almost rude interference, with 
 which his rector meddled in his matters. It 
 was no part of Basil's creed to make himself 
 a go-between. He ever deemed it better 
 policy for people situated as his brother and 
 Sir Harold, to leave them to adjust their own 
 differences ; for where strong religious prin- 
 ciples, conscientious determination of duty, 
 were mingled with singleness of heart, and 
 utter forgetfulness of self, the uprightness of 
 such a character would make its own way, and 
 bear down all opposition. This, Basil knew, 
 was Gerald's character ; and while he might 
 lament that, with over- much zeal, he had 
 created in Harold's heart a strong personal 
 dislike, he deemed that heart too generous and 
 frank to resist the good that Gerald wished him. 
 But Basil was not aware how much 
 the demon of indolence and torpidity had 
 taken possession of Harold. He was more 
 concerned to see, that the gentle playfellow of
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 241 
 
 his early days passed on her quiet way, con- 
 tent with the present, without fear for the 
 future. In no one way was Margaret im- 
 proved, but was sinking into a meek, inanane 
 character, with no feeling beyond what con- 
 cerned her Harold. And he knew her in rea- 
 lity so different. Many episodes in their 
 childish life rose before him, wherein her sense, 
 her judgment and endurance, all marked her 
 as fitted for much more than the indolent life 
 she was now leading. 
 
 " Little Lotty, Queen Margaret is leading 
 a sad, useless life here/' said Basil, one day 
 to the little Bear, as she was romping with the 
 great Bear. 
 
 " She only thinks of two things in the 
 world, Basil ; and that is what you and I are 
 not accustomed to." 
 
 " Xo Lotty ; it was different when she was 
 a little, wild school- girl like you. Have you 
 not tried to reason with her ?" 
 
 "Xo, Basil." 
 
 v ;.. I. II
 
 24.2 MARGARET 
 
 " Why not P" 
 
 " Her time has not yet come. I would 
 rather preach to you, my B ear ; you would 
 understand me sooner," continued Lotty, to 
 her dog. 
 
 Lotty looked up as Basil continued silent. 
 He was in deep, painful thought. 
 
 " You must save her, Basil." 
 
 " How, Lotty ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; but you must try to 
 awaken her from her dream of security. I 
 thought one night she would perhaps show 
 some emotion. Harold was not quite good — 
 sometimes he is not — that is, you know he 
 stays rather longer in the dining-room than 
 he ought ; he always does when Lady Kathe- 
 rine is here. As he lay with sleepy eyes half 
 back in his chair, somebody that shall be 
 nameless entered into conversation with him. 
 I suppose she was more amusing than usual, 
 for there ensued so violent a flirtation, that Lady 
 Katherine swept out of the room like an en-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 243 
 
 raged turkey, carrying Pru. and Pro. with her. 
 I looked at Margaret ; she did not seem to be 
 taking the least notice. And when that some- 
 body said in a simpering, fawning way, ' I 
 hope, dear, you don't mind my little flirtation 
 with Sir Harold, this evening.' ' Ah, no,' 
 said Queen Margaret, (for which I could 
 have beaten her, Basil), ' it is so kind of you 
 to amuse him.' " 
 
 " Did she feel no indignation, Lotty ?" 
 
 " Well, she might, perhaps ; but I'll tell 
 you what she meant, Basil; she would die 
 rather than that any one should think Harold 
 was wrong, or could do wrong !" 
 
 " I believe it ! I believe it ! Yes, I know 
 that must be her thought." 
 
 " We are going to drive to-day, Basil ; pray 
 come with us. I will be charioteer, and I 
 will take care to drive you to what Gerald 
 would call ' some improving scenes !' ' 
 
 Having seen both her Harolds so employed 
 until she returned, that they would not miss 
 
 r 2
 
 214 MARGARET 
 
 her, Margaret went with the delighted Lotty 
 and Basil. Margaret had not enjoyed such 
 a merry drive since she was a school-girl. 
 Basil was most amusing, with all his stories 
 of every -day life, and what he did at home, 
 looking so fresh, handsome, and animated, 
 that, whether she liked it or not, the idea of a 
 dark, silent, heavy companion, who usually 
 sat there, was perpetually rising to her mind 
 in contrast. Then Lotty's quaint little com- 
 ments upon Basil's stories were so racy, that 
 even he was in fits of laughing. They had 
 no servant with them, and, whether from de- 
 sign or accident, Lotty was perpetually desiring 
 to have something done to the harness. Basil 
 would be out at the ponies' heads on the in- 
 stant. 
 
 " Our servant is active, is he not, Queen 
 Meg ?" 
 
 " He is indeed, my Lotty ; how he springs 
 out ! it is quite a pleasure to see him. But I 
 am so afraid that in doing it thus quickly, he 
 may get hurt."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 243 
 
 " No fear," said Lotty, "otherwise I would 
 not trouble him. But I have a mind to see 
 how long a man, who calls himself a gentleman, 
 will consider it necessary to obey a woman's 
 will." 
 
 " I think you have tried Basil enough, Lotty ; 
 this is the sixth time you have made him get 
 out." 
 
 " Yes, it is of no use trying this experiment 
 on him, for if I were to ask him six times more, 
 he would be just as ready. I think I will try 
 my plan on one of the lazy Leighs — eh, my 
 Queen ?" 
 
 " Then you will never get them to obey 
 you," said Margaret, laughing merrily, as if 
 Lotty was in joke. " But go on now, Lotty, 
 for Basil is up again." 
 
 They arrived at what appeared to be a ruined 
 farmstead, nevertheless sounds came from with- 
 in the half-roofed house : a few poor, miserable 
 fowls were scattered about, with some gaunt 
 pigs.
 
 246 MARGARET 
 
 " Desirable place that," said Lotty, laconi- 
 cally ; " I was thinking of asking for a glass of 
 water, for Bear and me. Do you think we shall 
 get it here, Basil?" 
 
 " I will go and ask, little Lotty/ 5 
 
 " No, no, you will knock your brains out 
 against the door. Margaret and I will go, if 
 you will hold the ponies." 
 
 " I will accompany you with pleasure," said 
 Margaret, " but I am sure no one can live 
 there." 
 
 But it was inhabited. Sickly, miserable- 
 looking children lay about the floor ; a hoarse 
 but feeble voice came from a bed, in a corner 
 of the room, as they entered, and a woman, 
 with a face of woe and starvation terrible to 
 see, making Margaret quite shudder, rose be- 
 fore them. 
 
 " I came to ask for a glass of water," said 
 Lotty. The woman sent a little child out 
 with a jug. 
 
 " You seem ill," said Margaret.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 247 
 
 " Yes, my lady, we are spent at last. After 
 struggling all we could, the last misfortune is 
 come on us : my husband is helpless with 
 rheumatic fever." 
 
 " But how happens it, that with all this ap- 
 pearance of having been a large dairy farm," 
 said Lotty, "you are in this plight?" 
 
 The woman shook her head, and burst into 
 tears. The man called out from his bed, " It 
 was a miserable hour, ma'am, when we came 
 here. I was worth eight hundred pounds ere 
 I took the farm, but see to what I have fallen, 
 through the grasping hand of my landlord 
 and his agent; they extracted the rent, which 
 was high, to the farthing, but they did nothing 
 that they promised. They gave me no help to 
 drain my land, they let my barns fall, without 
 giving me a stick to help them up ; and the 
 cow -shed was blown down one night, killing 
 three out of six cows. I struggled as well as 
 I could, but there is a curse on this estate ; I 
 am bound down by a lease, or I would have 
 worked on the road to get away."
 
 248 MARGARET 
 
 " Would your landlord do nothing for you ?" 
 said Lotty ; " have you not told hicu of your 
 condition ?" 
 
 " I have told hirn myself, I have waited on 
 him night and day. My wife went to see the 
 lady, who seemed to be an angel by the good- 
 ness and gentleness in her face, but she had a 
 hard heart beneath. She listened with shut 
 ears, she did not seem to understand ; she said, 
 ' Sir Harold must not be disturbed, he was 
 reading or sleeping ;' and we were starving." 
 
 Lotty was too generous, and much too fond 
 of her Queen Margaret, to turn and look at 
 her, as the man continued a tale of woe and 
 hardship, that few believed could exist on 
 England's soil, but which may be the case 
 under similar circumstances. Hard bargains 
 of rent, strict exactions in demanding the same, 
 are not so ruinous to a tenant as the want of 
 his landlord's help to keep his home clean and 
 dry, his buildings in repair and neatness, his 
 gates and fences in order and use, his fields
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 249 
 
 drained and manured. When this is the case, 
 let the tenant begrudge his landlord no rent, 
 but prove the value of his assistance by the 
 punctuality of his payments. This is the true 
 bond of union between landlord and tenant, 
 and causes the noble country of England to 
 abound in estates, where the landlord lives as 
 a king among those around him, while they 
 bring up their sons and daughters to love and 
 honour the bountiful hand that helps them, 
 the willing ear that listens. While the land- 
 lord, on his part, views with pride and delight 
 generation after generation growing up upon 
 his estates, farms passing from father to son, 
 the hereditarv love with them: each strengthen- 
 ing the other, until they are part and parcel 
 together. 
 
 As Margaret lifted the broken pitcher to her 
 lips, the light fell upon her pale, agitated face. 
 Lotty saw enough, while the woman exclaimed, 
 "It is my lady herself, Lady Leigh !" In the 
 confusion that ensued, Lotty escaped ; her
 
 250 MARGARET 
 
 warm, loving heart could not bear to see, what 
 she knew must be there, the first awakening 
 of Margaret from her quiet dream of bliss, 
 pictured in the hitherto smiling face. 
 
 " Ah ! Basil, I fear we have succeeded too 
 well ! I would rather, — what would I not 
 rather, than that she should have this bitter 
 lesson ? I would rather see you married to 
 Augusta, I think I" 
 
 " Come, Lotty, I do not see why I am to 
 be so severely punished for nothing." 
 
 " You deserve some fright, Basil, for Au- 
 gusta told me last night, you had all but pro- 
 posed to her ; and you know you must have 
 given her some encouragement, she could not 
 quite tell such a thing, you know." 
 
 " It is against my principles, Lotty, to find 
 fault with a lady ; but in this instance I so 
 utterly deny the imputation, that I really 
 imagined the lady to be engaged to Philip 
 Leigh." 
 
 " What do you think of that man, Basil?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 251 
 
 " I like him so well, that I should be sorry 
 to see him married to Augusta. Both he and 
 Harold have every element of good in them, 
 but both seem somehow to have suffered a de- 
 fect in their education." 
 
 " Not so, Basil, they wanted early self-denial. 
 There was no creed in their bringing up, that 
 told them duty should guide their actions, 
 even though no religious principles were given 
 them." 
 
 " Is this my little Lotty talking so wisely ?" 
 said Basil, turning her face round to him, and 
 looking into her eyes. 
 
 " Oh don't ! Basil," said Lotty, " I am no 
 school-girl now." 
 
 " What wonderful eyes you have, Lotty ! 
 they are like a deep well." 
 
 " With truth at the bottom, I hope, Basil ; 
 but to return to the Leighs. Margaret would 
 have been different in other hands ; why did 
 you let her escape you, Basil ?" 
 
 " Hush ! Lotty, hush ! you show no wisdom 
 in speaking thus to me, of a married woman."
 
 252 MARGARET 
 
 " Then I will go and talk to Bear," said 
 Lotty, assuming her childish air. 
 
 When Margaret appeared again, they neither 
 of them looked at her : Basil helped her in 
 with kind assiduity, Lotty scolded Bear and 
 ponies vehemently, and kept up afterwards a 
 war of words with Basil. Again they came 
 within sight of a ruined farm-house, with all 
 its buildings in a more dilapidated condition 
 than the first. 
 
 " Stop," said Margaret, the first word she 
 had spoken ; Lotty drew her ponies up on 
 their haunches. 
 
 " No one lives there, Margaret," said she ; 
 " is it not so, Basil ?" 
 
 " I will go and see," said he. 
 
 " No," said Margaret, " I must go myself." 
 
 " Ah, Basil," said Lotty, as she disappeared 
 under the ruined door-way, "how her voice 
 is changed. Have you been too hard upon 
 her ?" 
 
 " No, Lotty, with a disposition like Marga-
 
 A>D HER BRIDESMAIDS. 253 
 
 ret's, nothing but the life she has been lately 
 leading will hurt her." 
 
 Margaret returned, her face brighter. No 
 one lived there, but the ruin of everything 
 was sad. 
 
 In this way they passed many more home- 
 steads, at all of which Margaret, at her own 
 request, got out and visited them, each 
 w_ etched, miserable, and forlorn. 
 
 As they drove home, in a very different 
 mood from that in which they started, nothing 
 was said. Lotty did not even speak to the 
 spirited ponies, or answer the wondering looks 
 of her Bear. 
 
 As Basil handed Margaret out of the car- 
 riage, she paused for a moment, on the thresh- 
 old of her house, and looking at them both 
 with the soft, dark eyes, full of expressive 
 meaning and affection, said gently, but clearly, 
 " Thank you both." 
 
 " She is saved," said Basil giving Lotty an
 
 254 MARGARET 
 
 irresistible kiss of congratulation, as he lifted 
 her from the carriage. 
 
 " Don't, Basil, you always forget I have left 
 school." 
 
 Other eyes saw that kiss, two pair, one 
 of which belonged to a heart that whispered 
 to itself, " I hate Lotty, and I will be revenged 
 upon her somehow." 
 
 The owner of the other pair said also, to 
 himself, " Ah ! my Lord Erlscourt, it is your 
 turn now, but mine shall come."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 To all outward appearances, Margaret 
 seemed as serene as usual ; but to Lotty, 
 Basil, and Milicent, there was a change. 
 
 " Where is Queen Meg ?" asked Harold, one 
 morning, with peevish vexation on his face. 
 
 " Oh dear me ! she has walked off, no one 
 knows where," replied Augusta, " caring for 
 no one." 
 
 " Very tiresome," said Harold, angrily ; " she 
 knows I wanted some letters written, and half- 
 a-dozen other things." 
 
 " Dear me, Sir Harold ! how can you expect 
 a woman to be always running after her hus-
 
 256 MARGARET 
 
 band ?" cried Augusta ; " I knew Margaret's 
 fit would not last long, as soon as she had old 
 friends about her." 
 
 Harold's face flushed. 
 
 " I should think," said Lotty, looking up 
 quietly from her book, " if you, Augusta, 
 would give Harold the message Margaret left 
 for him, you would spare him the trouble of 
 putting himself into a rage." 
 
 " But, Lotty, it is so unlike Margaret to go 
 away without telling me, or asking me," said 
 Harold. 
 
 " I presume, from the peculiarly amiable 
 manner in which you always beg not to be 
 teased with foolish questions, that she was 
 obeying you, in this instance." 
 
 " I believe I am very cross sometimes ; but 
 really the weather is so hot, and the flies so 
 troublesome, no wonder one gets bored. But 
 what is the message ?" 
 
 "It was given to Augusta." 
 
 " How do you know that ?" said Augusta, 
 angrily; "you were not in the room."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 257 
 
 " I knew it from this : these are Harold's 
 letters, all written, sealed, and ready to go, 
 with their copies beside them ; I am sure you 
 were told to inform him thereof, and beg him 
 to see if they were correct. Then by Harold's 
 chair, I see his little table with his book, the 
 two newspapers, his paper cutter, his footstool, 
 (as if you were some gouty old fellow, Harold) ; 
 and all these show, that though some business 
 might take Margaret away, Harold was not 
 forgotten." 
 
 " You are a good little soul, Lotty, I must 
 say, and very sharp too." So Harold seated 
 himself lazily in his chair, continuing, " You 
 can put all the copies into my drawer, Lotty, 
 and ring the bell, to send the letters off." 
 
 " Very well," said Lotty j " and if it won't 
 fatigue your highness too much, I will read 
 you the copies, ere I put them away." 
 
 " Do, dear child," said he, laughing at her 
 quaint gravity. 
 
 The Beauvillian visit was nearly ended. 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 25S MARGARET 
 
 Philip tried every means in his power to gain 
 an interview with Lotty alone : she was always 
 in the midst of everybody ; if her father did 
 not want her, she was by Margaret's side ; and 
 when Pru. and Pro. could possibly catch her, 
 they hung by her with a tenacity that made 
 Philip wish them both deposited in that re- 
 markable sea, which, we suppose from its san- 
 guinary colour, always comes uppermost in 
 people's minds, on such occasions. 
 
 Mr. Frank had passed from the excited 
 state of courtship, into a raging fever of haste 
 and eagerness to be married ; and he was 
 anxious to get home, to make preparations to 
 receive his Georgina. 
 
 Lady Katherine would have besought a 
 delay of six months, for propriety's sake ; but 
 the Beauvillian ardour and enthusiasm knocked 
 down Lady Katherine's arguments one after 
 another, like so many nine-pins, and threat- 
 ened to carry the stately old dame herself 
 quite off the balance of her propriety.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 259 
 
 " Dear madam, let them marry," said Mr. 
 Beauvilliers ; " why keep them waiting just for 
 a little punctilio? you know royal marriages 
 don't take half so long to settle." 
 
 This master-stroke of his chieftain, decided 
 Mr. Frank's happiness, and his fever some- 
 what abated under the influence of prepara- 
 tion : but as for departing without his charge, 
 that was quite impossible. So the day was 
 fixed, much to the sorrow of every one ; 
 and only the day before, did chance favour 
 Philip. 
 
 He had joined Lotty, Harold, and Basil, in 
 a ride that Harold had been induced to take, 
 to see a wood that required thinning. Harold 
 was already beginning to feel the want of 
 money ; and the prospect of having some wood 
 to sell, that would ease his present care, spurred 
 him to exert himself for once. 
 
 Exhilirated by the exertion, and the feel- 
 ing of doing something, Harold agreed to go 
 on a little farther ; but Lotty wished to re- 
 
 s 2
 
 260 MARGARET 
 
 turn to her father's early dinner. Philip 
 offered to escort her home, with a sudden 
 rush to his heart of tumultuous joy. while 
 his outward appearance was calm as usual. 
 
 They chatted very happily for some time. 
 Lotty really liked Philip, he was so amusing ; 
 and she gave herself up to friendly and fami- 
 liar conversation with him, as she would do 
 with Basil. 
 
 Receiving no answer to one of her sallies, 
 she looked round and saw Philip with a face 
 quite pale, from internal emotion. He was 
 thinking at the moment that his fate depended 
 upon the answer he meant to make her give 
 him, ere the ride was over ; and the possibi- 
 lity that she might refuse him, blanched his 
 cheek. 
 
 ' c Anything the matter, Philip ?" said she. 
 His christian name passed her lips as much 
 from surprise to see his agitation, as from a 
 sort of habit she had of becoming familiar with 
 everybody she liked.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 261 
 
 " Lotty, Lotty, I love you/' said Philip, 
 " I love you to madness. Oh ! Lotty, will 
 you be mine ?" 
 
 She reined up her horse full short. The 
 clear, brilliant eyes looked full at him in as- 
 tonishment, then, as if unable to bear the 
 burning love expressed in his, so unlike their 
 usual expression, she wheeled her horse sud- 
 denly round. With a smart touch of her whip 
 he bounded over the fence by the road side, 
 and shaking his head with indignation, he 
 fled in a mad gallop, across a heavy ploughed 
 field. They were over the next hedge, ere 
 Philip gained his senses. 
 
 "Wilful, wicked little thing I" he passion- 
 ately exclaimed, plunging his spurs into his 
 horse's sides, and following her ; " I will make 
 her hear me ; I will have an answer.'' 
 
 Though Lotty never looked back, she seemed 
 to know she was being pursued ; for the next 
 glimpse he had of her, she was bending over, 
 examining the girths of her saddle. He could
 
 262 MARGARET 
 
 see her, gathering up the folds of her habit, 
 and setting her slight figure firmly in her seat ; 
 then, with a clear, ringing chirrup to her horse, 
 away they bounded, as if on a race for life 
 and death. 
 
 Philip followed, his brows knit, his teeth set 
 determination even in the waves of his hair, 
 while he muttered to himself, " there is the 
 brook, beyond the long meadow ; I shall catch 
 her there." As he thinks this, again he hears 
 the clear voice, cheering her horse. They are 
 over the brook, and are breasting the steep 
 bank on the other side. He could almost hear 
 the little hand patting the good steed who 
 bore her so gallantly, and he felt half mad 
 with vexation and admiration, as he watched 
 the little graceful figure, bending so lightly 
 forward to ease her horse up the nearly per- 
 pendicular bank. They are gone over the top, 
 and Lotty might almost have heard the wind 
 bringing the words, "Wilful, wicked little 
 thing I"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 263 
 
 As Philip reached the head of the bank, he 
 saw the object of his pursuit far away, three 
 fields off. A sudden pang of fear sent every 
 other feeling from his heart. 
 
 " The quarry, ah ! the quarry, she will not 
 know of it. My voice is useless at this dis- 
 tance ; she will think too, that I but mean to 
 frighten her. Ah ! that lovely, exquisite wilful 
 being, is she to meet such a horrible fate ?" 
 
 Philip spurred wildly on, shouting, though 
 he knew it useless. As he looked, he saw the 
 wild gallop restrained, the obedient steed was 
 changing his stride into a quiet canter. 
 
 " Ah, she knows it ! how could I doubt her 
 sense and judgment ? she sees some sign of 
 unknown danger. Now, now then I have her, 
 now will I make her answer me." 
 
 He did not see, as she bent low on her sad- 
 dle, the furtive glances she was casting behind. 
 As he dashed over the last fence with a wild 
 cry of triumph, she stood still, as if waiting 
 for his approach ; but as his horse struck into
 
 264 MARGARET 
 
 his full swing gallop, she suddenly wheeled 
 round, and passing within ten yards of him, 
 bounded over the last hedge, which took her 
 into a lane ; ere Philip could pull up his half- 
 mad steed, he saw her far away up the wind- 
 ing lane without the possibility of being over- 
 taken, for she was leisurely cantering along, 
 he was almost sure, switching the hedge-rows 
 as she passed, and singing in the low, happy 
 tone she was wont to do, in her childish moods. 
 
 The air might have borne on its viewless, 
 but not voiceless, bosom sundry exclamations, 
 the reverse of good or proper, until the heavy 
 brow unknit ; a happy thought had occurred. 
 
 " I will turn and go in by the lower lodge. 
 If I spare not my horse, I shall be there be- 
 fore her ; and as she emerges from the upper 
 lodge, I shall catch her at the angle of the 
 roads. Speak to her I will, and make her an- 
 swer me, as the heaven is above us." 
 
 He was in time, Lotty was cantering quietly 
 up to the junction of the roads. " Now she
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 265 
 
 is mine." He thought it too soon ; as she caught 
 sight of him, she turned her horse's head in 
 the direction of the walnut avenue. 
 
 " Where can she be going now ? for that 
 only leads to the flower garden with the ha-ha 
 before it, and the rabbit fence. " He followed. 
 " Heavens ! she is not so mad as to think of 
 jumping the ha-ha. I hear her speaking to 
 her horse ; she gathers up her habit, she is 
 shaking the reins. Stay, Lotty, stay, it will 
 be your death I" 
 
 A ringing, mocking, last cheer to her horse 
 sounds in his ear, and Lotty is over, plunging 
 about mid the flower-beds. He lashes his 
 steed, determined to follow; but the wise ani- 
 mal swerves aside, and as he turns him around 
 for another trial, he sees the "little, wild, wicked 
 thing" dismounting from her horse ; and giving 
 it a parting switch of her whip, as a hint to 
 take himself off as best he may, she disap- 
 pears through the wide open window.
 
 266 MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Philip was down betimes for dinner, a flush 
 on his usually pale cheeks, a fire in his gene- 
 rally quiet eye. He was determined to see 
 how she would look on their meeting. 
 
 Lotty and her father were almost the last 
 to appear ; she in her little white silk dress, 
 with the cluster of fresh roses, so like herself, 
 her only ornament. The rich hair was parted 
 in its usual waving lines, the brilliant eyes 
 looked round as clear and happy as ever ; the 
 pretty fresh, innocent face, and the large lov- 
 ing hand on that shoulder, which showed a 
 fresh dimple with every movement; no change in
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 267 
 
 Lotty. But her appearance was greeted by 
 several voices, among which Augusta's was 
 loudest. 
 
 " You are more of a bear than ever, you 
 mad child ; how could you ruin Margaret's 
 garden in such a thoughtless manner ?" 
 
 " Nay," said Margaret, " Lotty is privileged, 
 she can do no wrong to Margaret." 
 
 " What on earth were you doing, you two ? 
 riding a race ?" continued Augusta. 
 
 " It looked like it, did it not P" returned 
 Lotty, quietly. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Leigh, I am afraid you have 
 been indulging my pet in her favourite amuse- 
 ment, a ride across country ; once set her off, 
 nothing stops her/ 5 said Mr. Beauvilliers. 
 
 " I fully believe you, sir," muttered Philip, 
 looking straight at Lotty. 
 
 A furtive smile of mischief played round 
 her mouth, for which he felt inclined to punish 
 her by making her hear his proposals then and 
 there, before all the company.
 
 2G8 MARGARET 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Leigh/' cried Augusta, " you 
 really should be careful how you follow that 
 wild thing. I saw from my window what a 
 narrow escape you had, and thought I should 
 have died on the spot." 
 
 " Very kind of you, indeed, Augusta," said 
 Lotty ; " Mr. Leigh seems too grateful to be 
 able to express his feelings." 
 
 "But, my Lotty, you seem to me to have 
 been rash," said her father. 
 
 " And would you have had me lose the race, 
 father?" pleaded Lotty. 
 
 "Then it was a race?" asked Augusta, 
 turning to Philip. 
 
 " Miss Beauvilliers said it was a race," re- 
 plied Philip ; " I did not." 
 
 " You little fibbing bear, come here, directly, 
 and tell me what made you ride in that mad 
 manner ?" 
 
 " When you see danger, don't you always 
 run, Augusta?" 
 
 "Yes, of course, child; but how could
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 269 
 
 you be in any danger with Mr. Leigh near 
 
 Ml 
 
 you? 
 
 " I was, I assure you ; and as dinner is an- 
 nounced, I will give him leave to tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 Lotty could hear Augusta from her end of 
 the table endeavouring to extract something 
 out of the now morose Philip, with no success. 
 
 Lotty always sat by her father at dinner, as 
 his aged fingers, stiffened with rheumatic gout, 
 were nearly useless. With Queen Margaret 
 on one side, and her father on the other, no 
 wonder Lotty looked happy and bright, and 
 scores of times made Philip wish himself at 
 home, out of reach of seeing or hearing her. 
 
 In consequence of this being the last even- 
 ing, Harold left the dining-room sooner than 
 usual ; and knowing that some hearts were sad 
 at to-morrow's parting, he chimed in very 
 agreeably to Basil's proposal for some music 
 and dancing. 
 
 " Come now, Queen Meg., give me some of
 
 270 MARGARET 
 
 your sweet songs first," said Harold ; " it is 
 ten days or more since you have sung me to 
 sleep with your low, half-melancholy murmur- 
 ings ; and you know how I like them." 
 
 "But I do not," said Margaret, in her 
 soft, but clear tones. " People that have 
 everything they want, and have nothing to be 
 melancholy about, should have heart-stirring, 
 lively music, such as this is." And Margaret 
 broke out into that brilliant galope, the 
 " Spirit of the Ball." 
 
 Basil threw his arms round Lotty's little 
 waist, and was flying with her on the wings 
 of the wind. Mr. Frank was whirling Pro. 
 along with irresistible Beauvillian force, though 
 she had not an idea of the step. Mr. Walter 
 Beauvilliers offered his arm politely to Pru., 
 who looked helplessly at her mother, who be- 
 nignly said : " Go, my dear." Lady Katherine 
 was breaking out into quite a jovial old dame, 
 and seemed so inspired, that her head, fan, 
 hands and feet, were all in a quiver of move-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 271 
 
 merit, as if trying to be off themselves : in 
 fact, her whole appearance seemed so enthu- 
 siastic, that had old Mr. Beauvilliers a leg to 
 stand upon, he felt he must certainly have 
 asked her to get up and dance with him. And 
 I have no doubt the old lady would have 
 danced quite as well as her daughters. Philip, 
 for a moment, stood with a thunder-cloud on 
 his brow ; he had seen an unmistakable look 
 of intelligence pass between Basil and Lotty, 
 as Margaret had answered her husband — a 
 look of triumph and heart-felt delight. What 
 could it mean ? But Augusta looked appeal- 
 in gly at him ; he offered his arm, and with his 
 heart full of secret anger and disgust, he bore 
 along his fragile and rather languid partner. 
 
 Harold apologised for not asking Millicent 
 to dance, by saying he was afraid it would 
 over-fatigue her. But Millicent would accept 
 nothing but his arm, and bore him off. And 
 now as they flew round the room, Lotty and 
 Basil exchanged smiling looks with Queen
 
 272 MARGARET 
 
 Meg. ; the two Mr. Beauvillians bore their 
 stumbling, blundering, breathless little part- 
 ners round in a manner only Beauvillians 
 could do, while Margaret followed her husband 
 and Millicent with loving eyes. Then the 
 gallop changed into the swimming, graceful 
 waltz. Even Harold began with alacrity to 
 dance to the Prima Donna. 
 
 " Charming to see young people so enjoy 
 themselves, Madam," said Mr. Beauvilliers. 
 
 " I see no harm, I must say," said Lady 
 Katherine, "in a little liveliness; we now 
 and then got up a little dance at court, and 
 then we would sit in a row, his gracious Ma- 
 jesty in the middle, with her gracious Majesty 
 beside him, and the youug Princesses would 
 perform a minuet — the minuet de la cour, 
 which speaks for itself, Mr. Beauvilliers." 
 
 " It does, Madam," said the old gentleman, 
 in his most polite manner. " My dear bro- 
 ther," continued he, to Mr. Robert Beauvil- 
 liers, " do you observe her ?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 273 
 
 " I do, brother," said Mr. Robert ; "she 
 is like a bird, a feather, a flake of snow." 
 
 " She has a pretty flush," continued the 
 father. 
 
 " Lovely ! my dear brother ; I was at that 
 moment thinking I had never seen her look so 
 well." 
 
 All being now breathless, and done up as it 
 were, the music suddenly stopped. Harold 
 sunk exhausted, but in a fine flow of spirits, 
 into a seat. Lotty had, somehow, sprung from 
 one step in the waltz to her father's chair. 
 The two Miss Leighs were led, staggering and 
 giddy, with their hair in such confusion as no 
 one in the lives of the Miss Leighs had ever 
 seen it before, to their honoured mother, who 
 might have remonstrated, had she known in 
 what possible words to do it. Such a thing 
 as dishevelled hair was not known at court. 
 
 Then began Margaret the spirited song of 
 " The Old Hound," which she sang with such 
 gusto, that the chorus was taken up on all 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MARGARET 
 
 sides ; and when the view halloo was to be 
 given, it was done by every man in the room 
 to his heart's content, accompanied with a 
 little shriek of surprise from Lady Katherine. 
 She had never heard such a sound before, and 
 thought the walls were coming down ; she 
 grew grave, and observed to Margaret, that 
 it was a pretty air certainly, but surely the 
 w^ords were vulgar — that is, not meant for such 
 society ; she had never heard of such a song 
 at court. 
 
 Whereupon, smiling, Margaret said she 
 would sing her one more lady-like, and calling 
 on Augusta to join, they sang "The Elfin 
 Call." Then two Mr. Beauvillians sang a 
 duet, a fine jovial song. Then they danced 
 again; and Philip asked Lotty, and hearing 
 that she was engaged to Harold, wished him- 
 self hanged, or at the deuce, privately ; which 
 it was, matters little, as he evidently did not 
 mean what he thought. 
 
 In the midst of all this hilarity, the pom-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 275 
 
 pous, grey-headed old butler announced, in his 
 usually grand way, " Lady Katherine's chair ; 
 the Miss Leighs' chair." 
 
 "What! already?" exclaimed Harold, in 
 amazement. 
 
 Lady Katherine adhered to the good old 
 fashion of sedan chairs. But they had their 
 inconveniences ; for though she might squeeze 
 one daughter in with her, she could not two ; 
 and as, even in her son's house, she could not 
 leave them behind, while the chair took her 
 the hundred yards she had to go, she was 
 under the necessity of having a chair fqr her- 
 self, and one for the Miss Leighs. To be 
 sure, after Mr. Frank's proposal and accept- 
 ance, her chair might have traversed the hun- 
 dred yards a hundred times, before the other 
 chair followed. 
 
 There was such wrapping up of Miss Geor- 
 gina, such a number of adieux, so many last 
 words to be spoken, so many important things 
 to be said, which had been quite forgotten un- 
 
 t 2
 
 276 MARGARET 
 
 til that minute ; so many charges to Miss 
 Leigh to take care of Miss Georgina. All 
 these things took up time, and yet, notwith- 
 standing all this care and all these charges, 
 before Miss Georgina had time to say, " How 
 polite and attentive he is," and Miss Leigh to 
 respond back in equally laudatory terms, as 
 they trotted along, they would have arrived, 
 and lo ! there was Mr. Frank at the door, ready 
 to help them out. 
 
 And though this little amiable scene took 
 place upon an average five nights out of every 
 seven,, still Miss Georgina was always so sur- 
 prised to see him, and still Mr. Frank would 
 say, " I could not have rested, dearest Geor- 
 gina, and not known that you were safe under 
 your mother's roof."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Lotty was gone, and Philip was left be- 
 hind, and nothing came of all that he vowed 
 to himself should come, so Philip shut himself 
 up. 
 
 There was copious and abundant weeping 
 on the departure of the Beauvilliers ; Geor- 
 gina, of course, cried enough for ten, though 
 lovingly assured by Mr. Frank, he would 
 barely eat, drink, or sleep until he saw her 
 again. Pru. was too sisterly not to join her ; 
 though Lotty might have a tear in her eye 
 when she bade adieu to Queen Margaret, she 
 was very unsympathetic in parting with the
 
 27S MARGARET 
 
 others. Told Pro. not to cry her eyes out 
 ere she saw her again, as it would probably 
 be inconvenient to Mr. Frank to have a blind 
 wife ; recommended Pru. to take lessons 
 from Millicent, in the proper duties of a cler- 
 gyman's wife, which remark threatened to leave 
 a permaneut blush on poor Pru.'s nose. She 
 told Millicent, that good people being scarce, 
 she hoped to see her taking more care of 
 herself when they met again ; also, hoped 
 gravely, that Gerald would be nearer perfec- 
 tion, to which Gerald as gravely responded in 
 the same wish. And then whispering a part- 
 ing piece of advice to Augusta, not to outstay 
 her welcome, Lotty took the little small nook 
 that was left for her in the carriage among her 
 father's cushions. One Mr. Beauvilliers inside 
 with them, two Mr. Beauvilliers outside, with 
 the two servants, and Bear the Great. 
 
 As long as the carriage was in sight, so 
 were hats flourished and handkerchiefs waved. 
 Then, in a parting burst of grief, Georgina
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 279 
 
 sunk on the faithful Charlotte's shoulder, and 
 was considerately led to her couch. All of 
 which was deemed by Lady Katherine truly 
 correct and proper, and very courtly. 
 
 " Harold, will you ride with me to-day ?" 
 said Basil, after they were gone ; " my time is 
 so short here now, that while Gerald is occu- 
 pied in parochial matters, I am fain to palm 
 myself off on you for amusement." 
 
 Harold had just lifted up one of his beloved 
 French novels, intending to ensconce himself 
 in his easy chair. His unwonted exertions of 
 the evening before, had really made him rather 
 stiff; but he was much too partial to Lord 
 Erlscourt to refuse. " My dear fellow ! with 
 pleasure. I dare say the ride will take off my 
 aches, too ; though, unless I had the induce- 
 ment of your company, I don't think I should 
 stir." 
 
 " Ha !" said Harold, as they passed the same 
 farm-house where Lotty had asked for water, 
 " what are they doing here ? They seem to
 
 280 MARGARET 
 
 be repairing the place. High time, too, idle, 
 lazy rascals !" 
 
 " This is a wonderfully rich country," said 
 Lord Erlscourt. 
 
 " I believe it is," returned Harold ; " but 
 the worst for tenants, in the world. I cannot 
 get any, and when I have them, they won't 
 pay, or they run away." 
 
 " What sort of steward have you?" 
 
 " Oh, a rascal, like the rest of them. There 
 really is no honesty about this place, and I am 
 sick of it." 
 
 " It is a lovely country," said Basil. 
 
 " I allow it is, and I believe I should be 
 fond of it, if I were not so harassed and teased. 
 Lying on the grass among the flowers, look- 
 ing at the fine old trees, from them to the grey, 
 picturesque old house, with Margaret running 
 about after her boy, I have often thought few 
 could have a home so beautiful." 
 
 " I don't quite know," said Basil, smiling, 
 " what harasses you ?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 281 
 
 " Why, you know, when I left you, I in- 
 tended profiting by your example, and looking 
 after my affairs. My dear fellow, whether 
 from design or not, Price, my agent, compli- 
 cated the simplest matters to such a degree, 
 that I grew quite sick of them. Then the mo- 
 ment it was known that I was investigating 
 matters, such a host of complaining tenants 
 came about me, I was nearly mobbed : I had 
 no peace night or day. Their demands were 
 exorbitant, and their wants so many, that at 
 last I gave up the whole thing in disgust ; and 
 as they one and all complained of Price, 1 
 thought the best way was to hand them all 
 over to him, and they would be sick of com- 
 plaining." 
 
 " Do you suppose he will act conscientiously 
 by them ?" said Basil. 
 
 " I neither know nor care ; my rent-roll is 
 £7000 a year, and he must find it ; and as long 
 as he does, I don't think I need trouble my- 
 self."
 
 ~ s '2 MARGARET 
 
 As he spoke, the tail figure of the rector ap- 
 peared in sight. He advanced to meet them, 
 glowing with health and apparent satisfaction. 
 " My dear Sir Harold," said he, taking his 
 hand with great eagerness, " allow me to con- 
 gratulate you. Suffer me to say how delighted 
 I am." 
 
 "At what?" said Harold, coldly ; for, like 
 all persons whose conscience will make them- 
 selves heard some times, he was only the more 
 pertinacious in refusing advice. And like one 
 angry dog meeting another, the meetings of 
 Sir Harold and Gerald Herbert raised within 
 the breast of each an instant spirit of oppo- 
 sition, as the dogs' pugnacious feelings raised 
 their bristles. 
 
 " The Wilcoxes, Sir Harold ; those poor 
 creatures about whom I have spoken to you 
 so often." 
 
 51 1 know nothing about them," said Harold, 
 the bristles of his mind beginning to rise. 
 
 ; ' Why, my dear fellow," said the warm-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 2^3 
 
 hearted, energetic rector, "you are repairing 
 their place, you are roofing their barns, you 
 have lent them money to commence life anew, 
 and I honour you for it. I love you for rous- 
 ing yourself at last, shaking off the dull, apa- 
 thetic sloth that enthralled you like a coil of 
 nets." 
 
 " I know nothing of what you are speaking 
 about, and I'll thank you not to dictate a line 
 of conduct to me," said Harold, interrupting 
 him, with every bristle in a perpendicular 
 state. 
 
 Had Gerald said coldly and deprecatingly, 
 " How foolish you are to repair that old place," 
 Harold was of that disposition, he would have 
 ordered it to be done at any cost. 
 
 Now the well-meaning, but injudicious 
 Mr. Herbert, had raised a hornet's nest about 
 him, and without in the least knowing how 
 he could have offended, he yet was obliged to 
 see Sir Harold ride off in a high state of wrath 
 and indignation.
 
 284 MARGARET 
 
 " Your brother-in-law is a fool," said he, at 
 last, to Lord Erlscourt. 
 
 " He is injudicious, but no fool," said Basil. 
 
 " Did you hear all that rhodomontade about 
 apathy and sloth ?" 
 
 "He is so active himself, that he does not 
 understand your dolce far niente character." 
 
 " I wish his activity would not lead him to 
 meddle with me and my affairs ; I wonder who 
 has ordered the Wilcoxes' place to be repaired. 
 That was it we passed just now, with the 
 workmen about." 
 
 " It seemed to want it," said Basil, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " I have no doubt it wanted it, and so does 
 everything under that rascal Price's care ; but 
 I won't be dictated to by Herbert. I shall 
 find out who ordered those repairs, and have 
 them stopped." 
 
 Basil began talking of his intention to have 
 a yacht in the ensuing summer. " In bring- 
 ing up boys," said he, "I fancy it a good
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 285 
 
 thing to let them see a little of everything. 
 My half-brothers are fine fellows, but have a 
 good deal of rather wild blood in them. I 
 mean, therefore, to try the experiment of always 
 keeping their active frames, and still more 
 active minds, in constant exercise." 
 
 In this sort of conversation Basil so be- 
 guiled the time, that Harold became cool, and 
 talked of having a yacht himself, with evident 
 interest. 
 
 On the two ladies, Margaret and Augusta, 
 retiring after dinner, Harold began instantly to 
 exclaim — (Basil had seen that something had 
 occurred to disturb the smooth temper with 
 which they parted before dinner) — " Do you 
 know it is Margaret who ordered those repairs 
 at the Wilcoxes. I have no doubt that fellow, 
 Herbert, set her on." 
 
 " I think he would not have greeted you m 
 the manner he did, if he thought it had been 
 Lady Leigh's act." 
 
 " True, he did seem surprised, and also
 
 286 MARGARET 
 
 never mentioned Margaret's name. Erlscourt, 
 I had a scene with Margaret, the first since 
 we married. I did not know women could 
 be so obstinate. But, however, I won't give 
 in ; I said the Wilcoxes' place should not be 
 repaired, and it shall not." 
 
 " I do not think Margaret is obstinate ; I 
 have known her from a child," said Basil. 
 
 " So you did, and by-the-by, I often won- 
 dered you never fell in love with her, Erls- 
 court. I did so, with onlv looking at her, 
 much less speaking to her." 
 
 " I did," said Basil, in a low voice. 
 
 " How ! what ?" returned Harold, rousing 
 himself. 
 
 " From the time I was ten years old, until 
 I was two-and-twenty, I loved your Margaret ; 
 loved her not with a boy's affection, not with 
 a youth's fancy, but as a man, who gives his 
 heart unto the Eve of his Paradise, and sees 
 no other woman, knows no other love, feels 
 nothing but that he would be her Adam." 
 
 " This to me, her husband ?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 2S7 
 
 " This to you, her husband. Now listen, 
 from the time when a little feeble boy, I ran 
 twelve miles through the forest paths, more 
 intent upon rescuing my sister from cruel 
 treatment, than any fate that might occur to 
 me. I recal that painful, weary journey, with 
 pleasure — it introduced me to Margaret. The 
 sorrows and hardships of my early years I 
 learnt to bless ; they paved the way to my 
 meeting Margaret. I watched her as she 
 grew, month by month, year by year, gentle 
 in spirit, but strong in love, pliant in small 
 things, firm in affection. I grew impatient to 
 take possession of this opening flower, and 
 fearing that I could not control myself, I went 
 abroad to pass the time, until her school- girl 
 days were over. You came and gathered my 
 cherished woodland flower." 
 
 " Dear Basil, I pity you. Had I but 
 known, — no, I can say nothing, I feel I could 
 not have given her up. My dear Basil, on my 
 soul, I pity you !" And he held out his hand, 
 his heart beating with emotion.
 
 255 MARGARET 
 
 Basil grasped it cordially, continuing : " I 
 knew her nature so well, that once her 
 young heart was given, it was given for 
 ever." 
 
 " I believe it," exclaimed Harold, as the 
 image of the fair young bride rose before his 
 view, casting on him that one look of love and 
 gratitude. 
 
 " So I gave myself for a task, the purifying 
 my heart of love for her, so that it might be 
 such as it ought, for the wife of another man. 
 And you will not credit my first confidence, if 
 you believe not the second ; my love for Mar- 
 garet is as that of a fond brother." 
 
 " I cannot but believe you, Basil, and I 
 thank you for your confidence. I think you 
 have a motive in it — tell it me." 
 
 " You think Margaret but a loving, rather 
 simple girl !" 
 
 " She is loving, and, as you say, I think her 
 more loving than wise." 
 
 " Then you must believe the word of a man,
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 289 
 
 who so loved her before you ever saw her, 
 that the innermost chamber of his heart seems 
 shut for ever. She is more, much more/' 
 
 " I shall think with pride, Basil, of the love 
 she gained in so noble a heart, even from a 
 child." 
 
 " Then the object of my confidence is gained. 
 Trust her, you will never repent ; consult her, 
 you will have the advice of a devoted heart, 
 and clear head. Let her be your help-meet 
 indeed, and not the pretty, pleasant companion 
 of your own hours of pastime. Before you 
 both, are set other tasks to do." 
 
 " I understand you. But, Basil, tell me 
 this: is it true, that your heart is closed against 
 all love?" 
 
 " Xo, Harold," said Basil, smiling cheer- 
 fully ; " against none. In my short life, I 
 have seen enough to know, that protestations 
 do not become weak man. Depend upon it, 
 the more vehement and public his proclama- 
 tion that his determination is fixed, and his 
 
 VOL. i. d
 
 290 MARGARET 
 
 will, like the ancient laws of Medes and Per- 
 sians, unalterable, than heaven and earth, 
 man and beast, everything and nothing, seem 
 in a league together to make him eat his words. " 
 " You never said anything more true ; I am 
 a living instance of it this day. For now you 
 shall see if your lesson is thrown away, or 
 your confidence misplaced. Queen Margaret/' 
 said he, opening the drawing-room door, 
 " tell that rascal, Price, to hurry on with Wil- 
 cox's place, and get it finished immediately." 
 
 Margaret's eyes looked up, with that one 
 never-forgotten look ; but she only said, 
 " Thank you, Harold." 
 
 " You are quite right, Basil," whispered 
 he, " she is remarkably sensible ; now, if she 
 had gone off into heroics, and teased me with 
 ecstacies, I, perhaps, should have changed my 
 mind again. You saw that look ! humph, 
 well ! is not that worth something ? Ah ! my 
 dear Basil, I forgot." 
 
 " Pray don't apologise," said Basil, laugh-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 291 
 
 ing heartily at Harold's change of counte- 
 nance from the exulting to the commiserating ; 
 " I will go and have a little flirtation with 
 Miss Claret 
 
 Harold was well content, and seated himself 
 near his Margaret, saying quietly, " Pretty, 
 striking-looking girl ! but a poor compliment 
 to pay Margaret, if he does choose her after 
 all." 
 
 Basil had estimated Harold's character very 
 justly. At present he was only valuing his 
 wife according to the appreciation of others : 
 she was the best, sweetest, dearest wife in the 
 world, but nothing more. Now he looked at 
 her to-night with, as it were, new eyes, pene- 
 trating and observant. 
 
 Augusta really needed a little consolation. 
 Sorely in her heart dwelt Lotty's last woj 
 inasmuch as she was quite aware that her con- 
 duct had been such as to make the hint de- 
 sirable. That she must flirt, was necessary 
 to her existence — that is, she thought so. Bur 
 
 u 2
 
 292 MARGARET 
 
 in one or two instances, she had gone to such 
 great lengths, that, spite of her beauty and 
 elegant carriage, Lady Katherine had much 
 ado to restrain the indignant feelings roused 
 by her quondam favourite. It was not so 
 much with Philip and Lord Erlscourt ; but 
 if they were not within reach, she planted 
 herself by the side of the not always conscious 
 Harold, and disported herself at his expense. 
 Once or twice Lotty had made some sarcastic 
 remarks, which only drew from Augusta the 
 words, " Margaret does not care ; what busi- 
 ness- is it of yours?" Augusta had, besides, 
 the uncomfortable feeling of knowing that 
 Lord Erlscourt was quite indifferent to her 
 charms and manners ; and she more than half 
 suspected that Philip Leigh had abated of his 
 loyalty. And while she tried to pooh-pooh 
 the idea, that the odious little Bear had lured 
 him from his allegiance, it would force itself 
 into notice, try all she could. " Not out-stay 
 my welcome indeed ! I will stay until I have
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 293 
 
 secured Philip Leigh, if it is only to spite 
 that child, who, I believe, thinks he is in love 
 with her." What means she used, history 
 saith not ; but that she met Philip most days, 
 both Margaret and Millicent knew. And thev 
 were daily expecting the announcement of an 
 engagement between them, when Margaret was 
 summoned to her father's dying bed. 
 
 In haste and sorrow the party at Court 
 Leigh broke up. Millicent and Gerald were 
 left alone ; for Lady Katherine had deemed it 
 proper to have Pro.'s marriage celebrated in 
 London. And the time drew near.
 
 •20 i MARGARET 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Any excitement that Philip had been under- 
 going through Augusta's instrumentality, was 
 now gone, leaving a dull blank behind. Moody, 
 irritable, and murmuring, the image of the 
 little, wild, wicked thing, for ever haunted him. 
 
 " I will go," said he at last, " and demand 
 her hand formally of her father — anything is 
 better than this horrid state of uncertainty, 
 [f I am refused — I am refused ; but I will be 
 revenged." 
 
 Philip went, and was received at Beau-court 
 in a truly hospitable manner. He was a Leigh, 
 cousin to those Leighs who had entertained
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 295 
 
 their chieftain, their girl, and their kinsmen so 
 hospitably. It behoved the Beauvillians to 
 show theirs in return to so honoured a guest. 
 Philip's better nature expanded under the 
 frank, jovial hands of this hospitable tribe. 
 Not a Beauvillian but asked him to dine, 
 sleep, sup, live with him ; and when, after three 
 weeks' sojourn among them, any one had 
 asked their opinion of Philip Leigh, every 
 Beauvillian, from his heart, would have ex- 
 claimed : " He is a right good fellow." But 
 a deep silence fell on the whole tribe when 
 Philip publicly and formally demanded the 
 hand of their girl. They were like bees just 
 learning that their queen was gone, and then, 
 like bees, rushed into a frantic commotion. 
 Xot even her birth created a greater sensation. 
 
 " Our girl is asked in marriage," said one 
 to the other, when they met. 
 
 ''Aright worthy fellow,'' says the other, 
 back again. 
 
 " She is young," says one.
 
 296 MARGARET 
 
 " To be asked in marriage," says the other. 
 
 " But she is so sensible," says one. 
 
 " Yes, wonderful," says the other. 
 
 " Will she have him ?" says one. 
 
 " She won't leave her father," says the other. 
 
 " I knew it," said both. 
 
 At Beau-court a full conclave was held ; 
 Philip in the midst, opposite Mr. Beauvilliers. 
 " We duly appreciate your offer — we respect 
 you, Mr. Leigh ; but my little child, my pretty 
 Lotty — I have not long to live, and I could 
 not live that short time without her." Thus 
 said Mr. Beauvilliers, and all his kinsmen 
 echoed his words — " The child must not be 
 separated from her father." 
 
 " Never ! oh, never !" said Philip, earnestly ; 
 " I will wait, wait months, years. I will leave 
 my home altogether, and live only amongst 
 you, if I may but hope." 
 
 " Very handsome proposal — very generous. 
 How he loves her ; excellent young man ! he 
 deserves her." Thus exclaimed the Beauvillians,
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 297 
 
 while the aged father clasped Philip's hand, 
 and said, " Sir, that removes my difficulty. I 
 own that I would wish to take to her mother 
 the assurance that her little daughter was happy 
 in the affections of a fond husband, as she 
 herself was. I own that I should like to know 
 my little one's likely lot, ere I leave her. Now 
 it seems to me, sir, that I would rather give 
 her to you than most people that I know ; for 
 you bear the name of Leigh, the name she 
 likes so much ; you live near the being whom 
 she loves next to her father. If, sir, you can 
 gain her affections, and if you will dwell here, 
 with me, at Beau-court, until I receive my 
 last summons, take her, and with her, my 
 heartfelt, soul-breathed prayers for you both." 
 Philip kissed the old man's hand with deep 
 emotion, and good and noble thoughts filled 
 his soul, reflecting themselves through his 
 eyes, so as to make the good Beauvillians 
 think, as they gazed upon him, " he is worthy 
 of our girl." *
 
 298 MARGARET 
 
 So she was sent for, innocent little victim, 
 to give her answer before the scrutinizing eyes 
 of her loving kinsmen. 
 
 She entered the room in her simple white 
 frock, her large hat full of autumn roses, her 
 great Bear by her side. She took her seat in 
 an unconcerned and simple manner, on her 
 usual place, her father's chair. 
 
 " My little Lotty, you know that Mr. Philip 
 demands your hand in marriage.' , 
 
 "Yes, father," said Lotty, throwing a rose 
 at the big Bear. 
 
 " We consent to the marriage, if you do, 
 dearest one." 
 
 " I do not mean to marry," said Lotty. 
 
 " I know, my pet, you will not leave me. 
 But Mr. Leigh will quit his own home, and 
 settle among us, w T hile I remain with my Lotty 
 on earth ; then I shall know when I am gone, 
 that she is in the care of a kind husband." 
 
 " I am too young to marry," again said 
 Lotty. i 
 
 " Young in years, my darling, yet old in
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 299 
 
 thought and wisdom. But your fond old 
 father would like to know that you had a home 
 of your own, though I know full well every 
 home amongst us is open to you." 
 
 " It is, it is — we should be proud — all we 
 have — nothing should we delight in so much, 
 as to give a home to our girl." 
 
 It was some time ere order could be re- 
 stored ; the vehemence with which every Beau- 
 villian spoke from his heart, was very nearly 
 ending in a scene ; for Bear began to fancy 
 some one was about to hurt his little mistress. 
 
 However, order being restored, again Mr. 
 Beauvilliers spoke : " Mr. Leigh seems in every 
 way worthy of my Lotty, though perhaps we 
 don't think any one can be quite. Then, 
 when time carries you to your new home, you 
 will live near your beloved school -fellow, Lady 
 Leigh." 
 
 For the first time, Lotty looked up, as if lis- 
 tening. " Don't you think, father, I am very 
 young to marry ?" 
 
 " You are, my child, and I should not urge
 
 390 MARGARET 
 
 it, but for the reasons I have mentioned be- 
 fore. I should wish to see you married ere I 
 die." 
 
 "Do you wish me to marry Philip Leigh, 
 father?" 
 
 " If you can love him, yes, my child." 
 
 Lotty lifted up those matchless, radiant 
 eyes, and looked at Philip. He returned her 
 glance, with the feelings so lately mentioned, 
 glowing from his eyes. " I will try, father, if 
 you wish it." 
 
 Philip fell on one knee, and kissed the little 
 hand half held out to him. " I desire no 
 more — I will ask no more," he said. " Deeply 
 do I thank you for the permission you have 
 given me." 
 
 As the Beauvillians afterwards declared to 
 each other, and retold again to whomsoever 
 they met, " The scene was beautiful ; the young 
 man behaved in the most noble, charming 
 
 manner ; and as for their girl " But such 
 
 ecstatics can only be tolerated among the 
 Beauvillians themselves.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Margaret arrived in time to see her father 
 alive, receive his blessing, and watch his aged 
 eyes linger proudly on the features of her no- 
 ble boy. Then with his hand clasped within 
 that of his wife, he said, " I think, Anne, we 
 did well, to let our Margaret marry," and so 
 fell asleep, with the happy smile of content on 
 his lips. A few words, only audible to that 
 fond and faithful ear, " I feel at peace with 
 God and man," were uttered by those feeble 
 lips ; and then they spoke no more. From 
 sleep, he passed into his immortal life. 
 
 Margaret and her mother mourned together,
 
 302 MARGARET 
 
 and the kind, ever-ready Basil took charge of 
 Harold. It needed little on his part to in- 
 crease Harold's esteem and affection for him. 
 
 At no moment of the day was Lord Erls- 
 court unemployed ; and as he seemed to count 
 upon Harold's help and assistance in all he 
 did, the latter found himself become unac- 
 countably a man of business. 
 
 " My dear fellow," would Basil say, " you 
 will help me amazingly if you would continue 
 marking that plantation for me, that we began 
 yesterday. I have to be off twelve miles in a 
 different direction to attend a county court." 
 
 So Harold would blaze away at the trees 
 half the day, and get quite excited about the 
 number. 
 
 Perhaps Basil would say, " Here is rather a 
 difficult case to settle between the keepers and 
 some wood stealers ; will you, Leigh, kindly 
 hear the matter over for me ? They generally 
 imagine I am interested." 
 
 So Harold would call forth his best judg-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 303 
 
 ment, and really look like a pleased school-boy 
 when Basil remarked, " How quick you are, 
 Harold, at judging character." 
 
 Sometimes they would visit buildings under 
 repair, so that during the month of Margaret's 
 seclusion, rarely did Harold return to her, 
 after a hard day's work with Basil, but in hap- 
 pier, healthier, more genial glow than when 
 he left. And Margaret blessed Basil in her 
 heart. 
 
 One day she said to Harold, " My kind 
 father has left me fifteen thousand pounds ; 
 will you, dear Harold, take it, and use it to put 
 our estate in some such order as this is?" 
 
 " I don't think w T e can do it, Queen Meg. 
 The people there are so different from here. 
 They are not grateful." 
 
 " They are very grateful, but they have 
 never had cause to show gratitude to us." 
 
 " Well, Meg, I will think about it. Some- 
 how, I fancy nothing good at Court Leigh." 
 
 " Dear Harold, our home, the birth-place of 
 our bov !"
 
 304 MARGARET 
 
 " All very true ; but there must be some- 
 thing obstinate and aggravating in the air." 
 
 Margaret laughed, and said, " Oh ! if you 
 are joking, I shall say no more ; but I will 
 spend my money as I choose." 
 
 " Ah ! I see you find Hampshire air just as 
 bad for your constitution as I do Cheshire. 
 But listen, wife. I am about to leave you for 
 a few days ; Basil is going to Cowes, to see 
 after a yacht he fancies, and if I see one I 
 like, I shall buy it also. You won't fear letting 
 me away from your apron-strings, with such a 
 nurse as Basil to look after your big baby." 
 
 " No, no !" agreed Margaret ; " but you 
 will write often ?" 
 
 " Every hour, I suppose," said Harold. 
 
 " I should like that ; but I will let you off, 
 and ask for a letter only every other day," 
 returned Margaret. 
 
 " We are also going to make an excursion 
 to see his boys, as he calls them. If they 
 have been good, they are to go with us to see
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 305 
 
 the yacht, it being principally for their amuse- 
 ment that he buys one." 
 
 " How good Basil is." 
 
 " Extraordinary, Queen Meg ; and I have 
 generally a horror of such sorts of kine : they 
 seem to be a perpetual species of blister, or 
 reproach. But Basil is so fearless and inde- 
 pendent, so daring, if I may use the word. 
 He is first in all the night-watches we have 
 been lately having, and does all those sorts of 
 manly things ; yet he is as kind-hearted, ten- 
 der, and good as a woman — as you, Margaret." 
 
 " I hope he is rather more firm in character 
 than I am. But when do you go ?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 Harold kept his word for a few days, and 
 wrote, as promised, very happy letters. 
 
 " I have seen the boys," said one, " those 
 wicked little animals that used to plague 
 Basil's life out at Erlscourt, and you would 
 not know them. They are splendid fellows to 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 306 MARGARET 
 
 look at, rather of the gipsy or Spanish order ; 
 and then their love for Basil is quite wonder- 
 ful — a word or look from him is enough. He 
 must be an extraordinary character, thus to 
 have tamed down those two cubs. They make 
 such a handsome picture, the fair Saxon Basil 
 and the two Murillo-looking boys hanging 
 about him, all looking one more happy than 
 another. 
 
 " I have bought a yacht, and ordered her 
 to be refitted and got ready for a summer 
 cruise ; also, I have determined to call her ' The 
 Marguerite,' after some one whom I am not sup- 
 posed to love much ; or, if you prefer the name 
 of ' The Pearl,' write and say so — it expresses 
 your name as well. By the by, I met your 
 friend, Miss Clare, looking wretchedly ill. They 
 say she has been jilted by Philip ; but Philip 
 writes and tells me he is engaged to your 
 Lotty. I am afraid Philip has been a sad dog 
 — and really, of the two, Miss Clare is best- 
 looking, your Lotty is such a child. How-
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 307 
 
 ever, I cheered her up, and invited her to 
 take a cruise with us in the summer. She 
 did not seem to me in a good humour 
 either." 
 
 In another letter, he stated, "that Basil 
 had also bought his yacht, and meant to call 
 her ' The Ripple/ That he had attended a 
 very gay wedding, the bride being Margaret's 
 last remaining bridesmaid. I fancy," con- 
 tinued Harold, in the letter, "that is what has 
 been troubling Miss Clare's nerves. Here you 
 are, all married now, excepting herself, and she 
 was decidedly the most striking among you 
 in personal appearance. It required a discern- 
 ing fellow, like myself, to select the flower 
 from this flock. If you will grant me longer 
 leave of absence, I intend to take a run up to 
 London, to see Pro. married ; and I have met 
 a few old friends here also. I leave Basil to 
 go home by himself." 
 
 Harold was altogether absent about a month,
 
 JOS MARGARET 
 
 and then returned to take Margaret home. 
 His presence was necessary there, too. Mat- 
 ters had come to that pass on the estates of 
 Court Leigh, that Harold's late trial of busi- 
 ness, under Basil's tuition, was likely to be 
 called into immediate and sharp requisition.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Though Philip was in the enviable position 
 of Lotty's accepted lover, and ought to have 
 been, and was considered to be, in the seventh 
 heaven, he felt himself, at times, in just the 
 opposite condition. The little, wild, wicked 
 thing was wilder, more wicked than ever to 
 him. Loving, dutiful, and incessant in her 
 attentions to her father, merry, happy, and af- 
 fectionate to all her relations, doting on the 
 big Bear, to Philip she was a provoking, teaz- 
 ing, everlasting torment. He chafed and 
 fumed himself into a fever, and then shivered 
 and shook himself out of it.
 
 310 MARGARET 
 
 " Lotty," he said, at last, in a sort of fit of 
 desperation, " is this the sort of way in which 
 you mean me to court you for my wife ?" 
 
 " I never asked you to marry me ; indeed I 
 almost broke my neck to avoid paining you by 
 a refusal." 
 
 " You did," he said, his eyes flashing, " you 
 did indeed ; and I shall never forget your 
 kindness." 
 
 " I never imagined, after that hint," said 
 Lotty, quietly, " you would trouble yourself 
 about me again." 
 
 " Trouble myself? Ah, Lotty, if you would 
 but hear me, I would tell you that my feel- 
 ings are — " 
 
 " Stay !" said Lotty, " let us be serious. Do 
 you mean really you are in earnest in your 
 desire to make me your wife ?" 
 
 " Good heavens ! what have I done, to make 
 you think otherwise for a moment?" cried 
 Philip. 
 
 "I did not imagine that a man of your age
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 311 
 
 and experience would, in reality, wish to bind 
 himself down for life to one so childish in 
 every way, so deficient in all the requisite qua- 
 lities of a wife. Nay ! hear me out, Mr. Leigh. 
 One also of whom you know so little ; who 
 has in no way returned your affection, who 
 does not even wish to make the trial. Come, 
 confess now at once that your fancy is over, 
 and that you and Lotty will ever be friends, 
 but not lovers." 
 
 Philip pressed his hand over his heart, 
 which raged with inward passion, as he heard 
 these calm, cool words. His lips grew white, 
 his cheek pale. 
 
 " Oh, Philip I" said Lotty, startled, " what 
 is the matter, are you ill?" 
 
 " And it is thus," he gasped out at length, 
 " that you consider a passion which is more to 
 me than life." 
 
 " Nay, you must excuse me," said Lotty. 
 " Remember, I have seen you with Augusta 
 Clare. But I go to bring you some water."
 
 312 MARGARET 
 
 During her absence, Philip gave voice to 
 his passion, though alone. 
 
 " Wild, wilful, wicked little thing, she shall 
 be mine ; hers is the spirit I have often longed 
 to curb and break in. I will make her love 
 me ; she shall — madly, wildly, devotedly as I 
 love even the shadow of her form, it shall be 
 the business of my life to make her love me 
 as vehemently. Hitherto no love has entered 
 her heart ; as yet she is, as she says, a child. 
 No matter ; I mean so to act, that with her 
 father's consent, I keep my vantage ground 
 here. But this strange, weary feeling at my 
 heart — what can it mean ?" 
 
 Lotty left him immediately after bringing 
 the water, and Philip felt that it was as well, 
 for his passion had overcome him. He had 
 now to learn, if he had never known it before, 
 that to nurse and cherish an evil disease in 
 one's heart, must wear out that heart in some 
 way.
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 313 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 As has been before intimated, the Beau- 
 villiers were not so wise as they were amiable. 
 Philip laid himself out to please them all, and 
 was as devoted in his attentions to Mr. Beau- 
 villiers as his dearest son. 
 
 The old man began to look upon, and treat 
 him as such ; and while his mortal disease 
 grew stronger, his mental faculties and discern- 
 ment seemed to centre themselves more par- 
 ticularly on what was around him, than a more 
 enlarged space. With Philip always at hand 
 to insinuate his hopes and wishes, no wonder 
 the fond old father grew to think that his
 
 314 MARGARET 
 
 Lotty's invariable silence on the subject, and 
 unchanging manner, were assumed. Only for 
 his sake, was she thus driving from her the 
 love of one he deemed so deserving of her. 
 
 In the waywardness of disease, he would 
 have taken the matter in his own hands, and 
 settled it at once, but that Philip besought him 
 not to hurry her. He would trust to time, 
 and her own wishes, he said, for which Mr. 
 Beauvilliers loved him the more, without per- 
 ceiving that Philip knew his best chance was 
 patience. He saw sufficient determination in 
 Lotty's eyes, to make him fear, that even could 
 he gain her father's orders, she yet might dis- 
 obey him. He determined to sound her. 
 
 "Lotty, you give me no chance, you allow me 
 no opportunity of becoming better acquainted 
 with the woman I wish to make my wife." 
 
 " I think, Mr. Leigh," said Lotty, carefully 
 intending to avoid irritating him as she had 
 done last time, " that you mistake ; we are al- 
 ways together."
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 315 
 
 " Yes, by your father's chair, or with others 
 in company ; but you never permit me to walk 
 out with you in the early morning. Save one 
 touch of your hand night and morning, you 
 allow me not one single privilege that might 
 be bestowed on your lover." 
 
 " You are not my lover," returned Lotty ■ 
 " you cannot be ; you and I judge differently 
 of the love that should subsist between hus- 
 band and wife/' 
 
 " And what is your idea ?" said Philip, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Look around you, and place before your 
 mental vision all the married couples you 
 know. See, if out of all, one half have not 
 undertaken duties they cannot perform, sworn 
 oaths that they all but forswear ; let not us 
 do the same. I know I am not fitted to be 
 your wife ; I have not that confidence and 
 esteem for your character, I must have, before 
 I can marry you." 
 
 " Why not ?" said Philip, with a dark frown. 
 
 " You have not acted well by Miss Clare.
 
 316 MARGARET 
 
 I know by her letters that you have permitted 
 her to think she has gained your affections. 
 
 " On my honour, Lotty, on my sacred oath 
 I have never done so," said Philip, ardently ; 
 " and tell me, do you like me so little, do you 
 even wish to punish me as an enemy, that you 
 give me Augusta Clare for a wife ?" 
 
 " No, no," said Lotty ; " but I do not es- 
 teem the man who can flirt with another 
 woman for his own amusement. Miss Clare 
 has in reality very strong feelings when roused ; 
 and I am certain, that with real love in her 
 heart, you will find her very unlike the person 
 she has hitherto appeared." 
 
 "Never, never, Lotty! for heaven's sake, 
 name her not again in comparison to yourself." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Leigh, can you not perceive 
 how frightful it must be to enter into so 
 solemn an engagement without the boundless 
 store of love, which needs large portions to 
 be poured out on many emergencies, and yet 
 lose nothing, but rather gain, the more the 
 stream flows ?"
 
 AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 317 
 
 " I have enough for us both, Lotty ; my love 
 for you is boundless as the sea, inexhaustible 
 as the sand on its shore." 
 
 " Nay, Mr. Leigh, your love is lifeless with- 
 out mine." 
 
 "Do you mean to say you cannot love ?" 
 
 "Yes, but not now. I am too young — I 
 must not be forced. Look at Lady Leigh 
 and Mrs. Herbert, good, amiable, matchless 
 as they are, in their wife's devotion, can you 
 think they are as well mated as their virtues 
 deserve ? I would wish ever to look up to 
 and honour my husband." 
 
 " Tell me what you would wish him to be, 
 that I may try to learn." 
 
 " He must be so noble in heart that he 
 would trust me as himself; he must be full 
 of that confiding love and faith, so as to dis- 
 dain to think of his wife as having a separate 
 thought or heart from himself. Frankly, 
 kindly, nobly, must he ever judge me, as I 
 would him."
 
 318 MARGARET AND HER BRIDESMAIDS. 
 
 " You are speaking of " Philip stopped 
 
 as abruptly as he had commenced, his eyes 
 gleaming. 
 
 " I am speaking of no one in particular," 
 said Lotty. 
 
 " Well," said Philip, breathing quick, " if 
 nothing that I can say of my love and devo- 
 tion moves you, think of your father's wishes." 
 
 " Something has blinded my father," said 
 Lotty, lowly and sadly. 
 
 " But you would obey him ?" said Philip, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " He has never yet asked me to do what 
 I did not like," said Lotty. 
 
 And that was all he obtained in this con- 
 versation. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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