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 "li./^, 1 .1-. it XI I ■ill
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD; 
 
 OR, 
 
 KEEPING UP APPEARANCES. 
 
 BY L. E. L,, 
 
 (the late MRS. MACLEAN) 
 
 AUTHORESS OF "ETHEL CHURCHILL," 
 "THE IMPROVISATRICE," &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ' LONDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1842.
 
 LONDON 
 
 t. SHOBERL, JUN., 51 , RUPERT STREET, HAVMARKET, 
 
 PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT.
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 .-r3» 
 
 I/. I 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Lady Anne Granard is a domestic story of the pre- 
 sent day, and is therefore decidedly different to those 
 captivating romances already given to the world by 
 L. E. L. ; but all who have enjoyed personal acquaint- 
 ance with that highly-gifted lady, will immediately 
 perceive that the story is written in her own peculiar 
 conversational style. It combines a playful and keenly 
 satirical vein, with a good-humoured willingness to 
 escape from her own perception of the ridiculous and 
 the blameable, in order to rest on those recollections of 
 the benevolence she loved, the virtue she venerated, or 
 the poetic sense of all that was excellent and beautiful, 
 -{? with which her spirit was so essentially imbued, and 
 to which her thoughts were constantly habituated. It 
 is necessary, however, to acquaint the reader that the 
 plan and first portion of the work only are the pro- 
 duction of the late Mrs. Maclean (L. E. L.). They 

 
 IV ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 are the last literary labours of that deeply-lamented 
 lady. The friend who has seen the work through the 
 press, and ventured to conclude the story, so prema- 
 turely bereft of its true parent, can only entreat indul- 
 gence for her humble efforts, which she believes to be 
 in strict accordance with the intentions of the author.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD ; 
 
 OR 
 
 KEEPIl^G UP APPEAEANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 No one dies but some one is glad of it. 
 
 If this be true of deaths in general, it was very par- 
 ticularly true in that of Mr. Glentworth. Very rich, he 
 died without a will or a regret. He left behind neither 
 servant, dog, cat, nor even a customary arm-chair, to 
 miss him. He had always lived in furnished houses, 
 and kept his " two maids and a man" on board wages; 
 he jobbed his carriage, and changed his tradespeople 
 every week. 
 
 Still, joy and sorrow are the inseparable companions 
 of death, and they were attendants even on that of 
 Mr. Glentworth. His property, which was great, went 
 to a nephew, who had never received from him the 
 least kindness, and who would not have inherited a 
 guinea, or an acre, if his relative had not had a 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 superstitious dread of shortening his life by making 
 a will. 
 
 Mr. Glentworth hated his nephew, both with the 
 general hatred with which men regard their heirs, and 
 also with an individual hatred. The good and the 
 generous action of which we feel incapable is a reproach 
 when done by another ; and the old man could not 
 forgive the younger one for being better than himself. 
 He was gone, however; and the one whom of all 
 others he disliked came in for the accumulated wealth 
 of years. If ever heir might be permitted " one touch 
 of natural joy,'' it was in the case of Mr. Glentworth. 
 
 So much for the rejoicing, and now for the regret- 
 ting. 
 
 " I never was so sorry for any thing as for Mr. 
 Glentworth's death,'* said Isabella Granard, endea- 
 vouring to screen her face from a small, sharp rain, to 
 which her place in the rumble of a travelling carriage 
 left her quite exposed. 
 
 " I do believe that he died on purpose to plague us,'' 
 replied Georgiana, her elder sister by two years. 
 
 "The ruling passion strong in death," said the 
 other, laughing ; " for Fanchette tells me he was a 
 torment to every one about him. Still, dying on pur- 
 pose to plague five girls of whom he knew nothing was 
 what Lord Penrhyn would call a very strong measure 
 indeed." 
 
 " I would not have cared if he had lived till after 
 Christmas," continued Georgiana.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 3 
 
 " Mr. Glentworth is much obliged to you/' was her 
 sister's answer. 
 
 '' I was wrong," cried Georgiana, her kind feelings 
 instantly reproaching her for her careless mention of 
 the dead. " But you must allow that it is very pro- 
 voking, when we were so comfortable at Brighton, to 
 be hurried back to dull, dreary London.'* 
 
 " I am sure," replied the other, " that I am as 
 sorry as you can be. I wish mamma had taken the 
 first offer, and let our house for a year.'* 
 
 '' But mamma," said Georgiana, looking a little 
 aghast, " would not spend the season out of London 
 for the world." 
 
 " What pleasure she can find in it," was the reply, 
 " is a mystery to me. London is all very delightful 
 for rich people, but those who are as poor as ourselves 
 had better be any where else." 
 
 '^ I wish we lived in the country," cried Georgiana : 
 " if we had but a cottage and a pretty garden, how 
 happy we should be !" 
 
 *' Instead," exclaimed Isabella, " of spending three 
 parts of our time in that odious back parlour. Child 
 as I was when we left it, I can recollect the dear old 
 shrubberies of Granard Park." 
 
 " And yet, mamma," returned the other, " always 
 talks of having been buried alive there." 
 
 " Mamma," was the answer, " calls every body 
 buried alive who lives out of a certain class. Our 
 opposite neighbours, the Palmers, are as much buried 
 
 b2
 
 4 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 alive as if they did not live in the same street as our- 
 selves. Indeed, by her account, it is only a very small 
 portion of the world who exist at all." 
 
 " I wish we were very rich/' exclaimed Georgiana, 
 with a deep sigh. 
 
 ^^ Well, as mamma would say, you must marry some 
 one very rich — that is your only chance of riches." 
 
 '^ But rich people are always old and disagreeable," 
 replied Georgiana, with another sigh. 
 
 " Mamma would say," interrupted Isabella, '"' what 
 nonsense you are talking ; very rich people are never 
 disagreeable — that is, unless they have made their 
 money in the City, and then it does require a great 
 deal to make them even tolerable." 
 
 " But could not somebody die, and leave us a large 
 fortune?" exclaimed the other. 
 
 " Somebody certainly might : but I do not see much 
 probability that any body will," said her sister. 
 
 *' At all events, I shall be very glad when I am 
 out," continued Georgiana. *' Mamma must then 
 allow me something better than this eternal straw 
 bonnet and green veil." 
 
 " If I may judge by my sisters, we shall have worse 
 miseries to bear," said Isabella, "than only an old straw 
 bonnet and a green veil. I should detest every new 
 bonnet that had a design in it. Why, Louisa's pretty 
 violet velvet was only bought because mamma said 
 she must have something to look decent in, as she met 
 Sir Henry Calthorpe on the Parade every day."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 5 
 
 '' And poor Mary," continued Georgiana, " lost her 
 afternoon drive because she had nothing fit to be 
 seen in." 
 
 " Poor Mary," added her sister, " who needs the 
 drive more than any of us. But mamma has long 
 since given up Mary's case as hopeless." 
 
 " And yet she is but just three and twenty," said 
 Georgiana. " But she is always so pale and so quiet." 
 
 "So heartbroken, you might say," exclaimed Isa- 
 bella, in a tone of deep feeUng. ''But what would 
 mamma say, if she knew that Louisa had refused Sir 
 Henry ?" 
 
 *' Oh ! I hope she will not know it," cried Georgi- 
 ana, looking quite aghast. " She would be angry with 
 us all round, and I do not think that she would ever 
 speak to Louisa again. I wonder, though, that Lou- 
 isa should refuse him !" 
 
 " So do not I," answered Isabella, with a suppressed 
 
 smile. 
 
 At this moment the Brighton coach passed rapidly 
 along. 
 
 '' I wish I were in that coach," exclaimed Georgiana, 
 who shivered with the cold rain, which now fell heavily. 
 
 " It is well mamma does not hear you," cried her 
 sister, laughing. " Lady Anne Granard's daughter 
 in A stage — and there by her own wish — though you 
 are her favourite, sh(j would disclaim you for her child 
 — or, no ; she would say that I put it into your head. 
 But I think that we might manage this old cloak bet-
 
 6 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ter — the rain beats on your side ; you know that you 
 are not half such a good contriver as I am." 
 
 And, under the appearance of making a better ar- 
 rangement of their scanty wrappings, Isabella contrived 
 to give her sister the benefit of nearly all her own. 
 
 While this conversation was going on outside the car- 
 riage, one much more interrupted was kept up within. 
 Muffled in furs from head to foot, occupying at least 
 half the carriage with herself and her Blenheim, who 
 accompanied every movement of his companion with a 
 shrill cross bark. Lady Anne Granard had at least not 
 neglected her own comfort. Though she had five 
 daughters, she would not for the world have had any 
 thing but a chariot ; so the two girls were left to ma- 
 nage as well as they could, having, moreover, to take 
 especial care not to disarrange any of Lady Anne's 
 numerous packages. 
 
 Of course, she could only travel with four horses ; 
 and, to patch up a sort of union between show and eco- 
 nomy, the carriage was loaded to the last extremity. 
 The two younger girls were in the rumble, the French 
 maid and page on the coachbox, and Lady Anne and 
 her three eldest daughters inside, to say nothing of 
 imperials, boxes, parcels, and last, but not least, the 
 dog, the only over-petted and over- fed thing in his 
 mistress''s possession. 
 
 " Never were any girls so stupid as you are," ex- 
 claimed Lady Anne, when, after many vain attempts 
 at conversation, her daughters had sunk into silence.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 7 
 
 " Mary never has any thing to say ; and I think you 
 are all growing like her. Do take care, Louisa ; if 
 you lean back, you will spoil your bonnet." 
 
 Louisa started from her reverie, colouring a little 
 deeper than there seemed any occasion for, and said, 
 
 " Indeed, mamma, I should be very sorry to spoil 
 your pretty present." 
 
 " I am sure it has been quite thrown away,'* inter- 
 rupted her mother. " I would never have gone to the 
 expense of such a bonnet, had I not thought that Sir 
 Henry Calthorpe was serious in his attentions ; but it 
 is all your own fault." 
 
 " Nay, mamma," said Helen, timidly, " Louisa could 
 not force Sir Henry to make her an offer." 
 
 '' Force, indeed ! — what strange words you use !" 
 interrupted Lady Anne ; " have I not told you a hun- 
 dred times, that a strong expression is so unladylike ? 
 I dare say it was something Louisa said that frightened 
 Sir Henry away — she must have been to blame." 
 
 And again her ladyship sank back in the carriage. 
 Silence, however, again became wearisome, and she 
 continued. 
 
 " I expect that I shall have you all on my hands, like 
 Mary, who never will go off now. I am sure she need 
 not grow so thin and pale, unless she liked it." The 
 tears came into poor Mary's eyes, and she turned aside 
 to the window. A thick mist covered the fields, but 
 the prospect was not more dreary than her own — it was 
 obscure, colourless — and such she felt was her future.
 
 8 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " I never knew any thing so provoking as it was of 
 Mr. Glentworth to die ; but I always heard,'' continued 
 her ladyship, " that he was a very low person 5 and 
 what can you expect from those sort of people ? if he 
 had had any consideration, he would have lived till 
 after Christmas." 
 
 Her daughters thought that the matter did not rest 
 with Mr. Glentworth to consider about; but Lady Anne 
 Granard's daughters had many thoughts that they 
 were in the habit of keeping to themselves. 
 
 " There is nothing to be done in London just now," 
 continued Lady Anne. ''If we could have staid in 
 Brighton, I think, Louisa, there would still have been 
 a chance of your securing Sir Henry. Yesterday he 
 showed symptoms of returning." Even now Louisa 
 trembled to think how much she had dreaded that 
 returning. 
 
 " Perhaps you may meet him," continued her mo- 
 ther, "next season. But even if you do, the chances 
 are greatly against you. The first impression, which 
 is of the greatest importance, will be gone off — very 
 likely he may be taken up with some one else." Lou- 
 isa secretly wished that he might. 
 
 ** Besides, in Brighton he saw you every day; in Lon- 
 don you can only meet now and then. If any one de- 
 sirable comes in the way, the chance of Sir Henry must 
 not be allowed to interfere. I would therefore advise 
 you, Louisa, not to think much about him." Louisa 
 could very safely promise that she would not.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 9 
 
 ** You must remember," added her mother, " that 
 the next will be your second season. You did not come 
 out till late, that you might not interfere with Mary. 
 Yet there she is still on my hands, and looking as pale 
 as a ghost. I am in a dreadful fright lest you should 
 go off, as she did, about two and twenty ; and what I 
 shall do with you then, Heaven knows !" 
 
 Appalled with the awful prospect of two daughters 
 unmarried at past two and twenty. Lady Anne sank 
 back in the carriage, as much overcome as she could 
 be by any emotion. The silence was broken by Helen's 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " Well, I am glad of our return to London for one 
 reason — we shall see the Palmers again." 
 
 " What you can all see to Uke in those odious Pal- 
 mers,'' cried her ladyship, disdain and dignity mingled 
 in her attitude, " I cannot conceive." 
 
 " Dearest mamma," said Helen, " only think how 
 kind Mrs. Palmer was when we had the fever f 
 
 " Oh, yes ; she is the only sort of person for a nurse. 
 She always," cried Lady Anne, with a sneer, *' comes 
 to you with a receipt for a pudding in one hand to 
 make you ill, and then a prescription in the other to 
 cure you." 
 
 Helen, whose chief ideas of comfort and kindness 
 were taken from the Palmers, said nothing : as wise a 
 plan as can well be pursued in all cases of domestic 
 disagreement. 
 
 The faint Hue of light that trembles on the dusky 
 
 b5
 
 10 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 horizon of London now became visible, the road soon 
 became a street, the wilderness of houses closed round 
 them, and the whole party sank into silence. Lady 
 Anne was too cross to talk, Mary was sad with that 
 weight which was perpetual at her heart, and Helen 
 was quite tired. Louisa was secretly the best satisfied 
 of the party, for Louisa was in love ; and, though the 
 chances of seeing him were small, yet it was some- 
 thing even to be in the same place with the object of 
 her affection. 
 
 Tired, cold, and hungry, the whole party arrived in 
 Welbeck Street. Lady Anne at once retired to her 
 bedroom, the only room in the house where a good fire 
 had been kept up all day. The page was sent for some 
 soup to a confectioner's, and, as soon as it could be 
 made ready, some grilled chicken was carried up on a 
 tray. She had a glass of warm sherry and water, and, 
 with her arm-chair, and a large shawl, her ladyship 
 managed to be tolerably comfortable. 
 
 The girls, in the mean^time, were crowding in the 
 back parlour over a small, smoky grate, where they 
 had some difficulty in getting the fire to burn at all, 
 each having cast a wistful glance at the cheerful-look- 
 ing windows of their opposite neighbours. 
 
 While they are waiting for their small allowance 
 of mutton chops, and making that superfluous exertion 
 which, in common parlance, is called keeping the fire 
 warm, we will go a little back upon our story. The 
 giant laid down one of the first principles of narrative
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 11 
 
 when he said, " Belter, mon ami, commencez au com,' 
 mencement" 
 
 Lady Anne Granard was the only daughter of the 
 Earl of Rotheles, whose house was one of the most 
 ancient in the west of England. I do not know whe- 
 ther they quite went the lengths of the Castillian 
 genealogy which mentions as a slight episode, ** about 
 this time the world was created." Certainly the house 
 of Rotheles went back to a most glorious obscurity of 
 land-chiefs and sea-kings, the noblest mixture of rob- 
 bers and pirates that ever entitled descendants to be 
 proud of their origin. 
 
 The family property was large, but so heavily mort- 
 gaged, that ready money realised Wordsworth's de^ 
 scription of the cuckoo ; it was 
 
 " a fear, a hope ; 
 Talked of, but never seen.'* 
 
 From her childhood Lady Anne had been impressed 
 with that first duty of a portionless beauty — the ne- 
 cessity of making a good match. 
 
 Speculations in trade are not confined to the counter 
 or to the counting-house. Lady Anne's fair hair and 
 white teeth were as much objects of barter as any of 
 the shawls or ribbons displayed in Bond Street. They 
 were to be had in exchange for a suit of diamonds and 
 an opera-box. 
 
 Mr. Granard, of Granard Park, became the fortu- 
 nate purchaser. For five years every thing went on 
 exceedingly well, excepting that every year a daughter
 
 12 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 made its appearance, a fact which astonished no one 
 so much as it did Lady Anne herself, for, as she ad- 
 mitted with equal surprise and candour, '' it was so 
 like common people to have a large family." More- 
 over, it was a son they wanted, as a male heir was ne- 
 cessary before any settlement could be made of the 
 property. 
 
 Mr. Granard (it is amazing how unreasonable hus- 
 bands are !) began to hint that they were living beyond 
 their income. Two of the children died, an affliction 
 under which Lady Anne was wonderfully supported, 
 particularly as her spirits under such circumstances 
 required a little change, and they accordingly passed 
 a few months at Paris. 
 
 Twelve years glided by, only disturbed by remon- 
 strances from Mr. Granard, remonstrances which, as 
 her ladyship observed, always came after he had been 
 seeing his steward or his lawyer — for her part, she 
 hated those sort of people. Two more daughters were 
 also added to their stock of domestic felicity, and the 
 eldest, a pretty, fair, timid girl, had become the con- 
 stant companion of her father's solitary walks, who 
 took little part in the gaieties which filled his house. 
 
 Mr. Granard's is a common history. He was a 
 broken-spirited man, ruined by extravagance he had 
 not resolution to check, and harassed bv embarrass- 
 ments he had not courasje to face. He was a kind- 
 hearted, well-meaning man, and with a different wife 
 would have been a different person. He had married
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 13 
 
 Lady Anne not only for her beauty, but for her quiet 
 manner, which he mistook for gentleness — like many 
 others, he found out his mistake when too late. Shy, 
 sensitive, and indolent, he gave way on every point, 
 because it was less trouble to yield than to oppose. 
 He went to London, though he would have preferred 
 remaining in the country ; he gave a grand fete of 
 some description or other every year, though he hated 
 the noise and confusion 3 he filled his house with com- 
 pany, though his habits were even unsocial : in short, 
 his whole life was one succession of sacrifices, but they 
 were sacrifices without merit — they were the sacrifices 
 of weakness, not of strength. Many a bitter moment 
 did he pass, when, after watching his five fairy girls 
 on the lawn, he would turn away, and think that his 
 death would leave them beggars. There was one sad 
 thought perpetually fretting his heart, and the gay 
 and lovely Lady Anne Granard was often pitied for 
 being united to a man so gloomy and so unsocial. 
 
 Mr. Granard became a valetudinarian ; he was al- 
 ways applying to some physician or another, perhaps 
 a little to their bewilderment, for no disease was ap- 
 parent : they knew not that the improvident father 
 feared to die, for the sake of five destitute orphans. 
 In the mean time he grew thin and pale, tlie result, it 
 was said, of over-attention. ^' Never," as his wife 
 observed, " did any body take such care of himself as 
 Mr. Granard." 
 
 But there was that within which mocked all cure,
 
 14 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 and Lady Anne was in the midst of her arrange- 
 ments for an archery meeting, when Mr. Granard was 
 found dead in his library. He had not been in bed 
 all night, having been looking over accounts ; a half 
 sketched plan of retrenchment was found near, but 
 that night his life was required of him. 
 
 Lady Anne could not repress one involuntary ex- 
 clamation of " what an inconvenient time Mr. Gra- 
 nard had chosen for his death !" but otherwise she 
 behaved with exemplary propriety. She retired to 
 her dressing-room, which was duly darkened, and 
 there she sat, a white cambric handkerchief in one 
 hand, and a bottle of salts in the other. 
 
 Most of Mr. Granard's children were too young to 
 feel his loss, but Mary, the eldest, grieved for him with 
 a grief beyond her years. What were his faults to 
 her.? she only knew him as the kind father with 
 whom she read and walked, and from whom she never 
 heard an unkind word. In after years, when she 
 heard of his indolence and his improvidence, it sounded 
 to her like sacrilege.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A far worse shock than her husband's death awaited 
 Lady Anne. It was the arrival of the next heir at 
 Granard Park, and the information that her husband 
 had died totally ruined, while a poor five hundred a 
 year was all that remained for the support of herself 
 and her daughters. 
 
 Lady Anne was more eloquent than she had ever 
 before been on the subject of Mr. Granard*s impru- 
 dence. " What did people mean by having heirs-at- 
 law ? Why were she and her children to be impove- 
 rished for a stranger ?" 
 
 She wrote to her brother. Lord Rotheles, expecting 
 that he would set the matter right. This, however, 
 was out of his power — still he did something for her ; 
 he assured her of an allowance of five hundred a year, 
 mentioning also that she could stay at Rotheles 
 Castle as long as she pleased. 
 
 This Lady Anne resolved to do till his and Lady 
 Rotheles 's return. After that it would be impossible, 
 for his lordship had married the woman who had been 
 divorced on his account, and, whatever Lady Anne's 
 other faults might be, she was rigidly correct. Too
 
 16 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 cold to feel, too inanimate to flirt, not a shadow had 
 ever passed over the highly polished surface of Lady 
 Anne's propriety. 
 
 The death of Lord Rotheles's third wife, (he had 
 himself been divorced by his second) opened a transi- 
 tory vision of splendour before the eyes of Lady Anne. 
 Her brother would of course return from Paris, she 
 could preside over his entertainments ; and how ser- 
 viceable they might be made to what was now the 
 great object of her existence — having her daughters 
 well married ! 
 
 " Thank God," she would sometimes exclaim, " my 
 girls all promise to be pretty ! I can conceive no mis- 
 fortune in life so great as having a plain daughter to 
 introduce." 
 
 I 
 
 All Lady Anne's plans about her brother's house 
 were, however, nipped in the bud, by his marrying 
 again. 
 
 Dr. Johnson says that a second marriage is the 
 triumph of hope over experience : what he would have 
 said of a third and a fourth I know not, unless he set 
 it down as a case of incurable madness. 
 
 The fourth Lady Rotheles was a very different 
 person from her predecessors ; she was as little like the 
 romantic and disappointed second, as she was like the 
 impassioned and miserable third. It was a surprise 
 and a novelty to Lord Rotheles to have a wife without 
 tears or reproaches — he really quite mis^ed them. 
 
 His wife and sister had too many points of resem-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 17 
 
 blance, not to entertain a strong and mutual dislike. 
 Our own faults are those we are the first to detect, 
 and the last to forgive, in others. Lady Rotheles and 
 Lady Anne were two worldly, cold-hearted women ; 
 but Lady Rotheles was the stronger minded. They 
 soon came into direct collision. 
 
 The autumn after Mary had been presented, they 
 were asked on a visit to Rotheles Castle. This invi- 
 tation Lady Anne accepted entirely on her daughter's 
 account. 
 
 " Mary's style of beauty,*" as she justly observed, 
 '' is the very sort of thing to tell in a country house ; 
 she looks so fresh, and yet so delicate at breakfast. 
 London does not do for her, she is lost in a crowd, 
 and one week of late hours makes her not fit to be 
 seen." 
 
 To Rotheles Castle they went; and Lady Anne 
 saw every cause to congratulate herself on her judg- 
 ment, when she also saw Lord Allerton paying Mary 
 the most devoted attention. Lord Allerton was that 
 modern phoenix, a young man, without a single objec- 
 tion. For the daughter he was young, handsome, 
 agreeable, and very much in love ; for the mother he 
 was rich, and highly connected. There was appa- 
 rently neither fault nor obstacle, and Mary yielded to 
 a happiness which gave a deeper light to her soft blue 
 eyes, and a richer colour to her delicate cheek. Even 
 Lady Anne wondered that she had never thought 
 Mary beautiful before.
 
 18 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 But, as the old ballad says, summing up, in one 
 verse, the whole philosophy of human existence — 
 
 '' Every fair has its blacli. 
 
 Every sweet has its sour; 
 So found the ladye Christabelle 
 
 III an untimely hour." 
 
 But Lady Rotheles had been forgotten, in the whole 
 business — a fact her ladyship was not likely to overlook. 
 To be sure, it was no concern of hers ; she had never- 
 theless resolved to make it one. The mere satisfac- 
 tion of disappointing Lady Anne would have been quite 
 sufficient ; but she had also another motive ; she had 
 decided that Lord Allerton should marry her niece. 
 To most others LordAUerton's obvious preference for 
 Mary would have been an insuperable obstacle ; it 
 only served to stimulate her ladyship. 
 
 Poor Mary's feelings, or poor Mary's happiness, 
 were as little considered as they were by her mother. 
 With both ladies love was not a sentiment, but a 
 speculation. Lady Anne wanted her daughter pro- 
 vided for 5 Lady Rotheles wanted her niece. 
 
 " I must say, my dear aunt," exclaimed Henrietta 
 Aubrey, " you do not do your duty by me. I was a 
 thousand times more useful to you, when the posses- 
 sion of Lord Rotheles was still debatable ground in 
 Paris. Think how I did your 'spiriting gently' — 
 above all, made ' no mistakings."* " 
 
 " I explained to you at the time," replied Lady
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 19 
 
 Rotheles, " that my marriage would be for your in- 
 terest as much as my own.'' 
 
 " One part of the explanation," rejoined Henrietta, 
 " has, at all events, proved true/* 
 
 *' Your part is not less certain," answered Lady 
 Rotheles, '' provided you follow my advice." 
 
 So saying, she closed a large volume bound in calf- 
 skin, whose accounts she had been diligently studying, 
 and, sinking back in her arm-chair, took that com- 
 fortable position which people are apt to assume when 
 they intend giving advice at considerable length. 
 
 There are a great many theories afloat touching the 
 manner in which the character of an individual rev^eals 
 itself. Some contend that it sets its mark on the 
 countenance ; this might be true, for Lady Rotheles's 
 face was sufficiently indicative of the inner world. 
 Her features good, but sharp; her eyes bright, but 
 too small — the forehead high and narrow, while the 
 lip was thin and compressed. Others again contend 
 that the handwriting betrays more than any thing 
 else ; and this also might have received confirmation, 
 for her ladyship's handwriting was fine, angular, and 
 not very legible. But "nothing more indicates those 
 tastes and habits which go so far towards both making 
 and showing the character — as a person's sitting-room, 
 particularly that half dressing-room, half boudoir, 
 which is peculiarly feminine property. 
 
 Lady Rotheles had fitted up her chamber herself, 
 and a large, handsome -looking room it was ; but a
 
 20 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 nice examination showed that the colours did not har- 
 monize, and that some of the furniture was scarcely in 
 keeping with the rest. Her ladyship carried her love 
 of buying bargains to its utmost extent ; and, more- 
 over, she always looked forward. She preferred that 
 Lord Rotheles's liberality should take a purely per- 
 sonal direction. Whatever decorations might ba 
 lavished upon her dressing-room, the dowager would 
 have to leave them behind her ; not so those which 
 filled the prodigality of red morocco cases on her 
 toilette. Often did she think, with a sigh, that the 
 family diamonds were only hers for a brief and bril- 
 liant period ; still, it was some comfort to remember 
 the chains, bracelets, rings, &c., that would remain 
 *' mine and mine only." 
 
 There were neither flowers, engravings, nor music, 
 scattered about, and but few books. These volumes 
 were all of a useful character. There was " Cobbett's 
 Cottage Economy," divers cookery books, with the 
 leaf turned down at receipts for making cheap soup 
 for the poor ; and on the table was a large bale of 
 coarse flannel, and some common dark prints. 
 
 There was always, in Lady Rotheles's mind, a con- 
 test going on between parsimony and power. However, 
 they soun came to an arrangement. With what was 
 peculiarly her own, the countess was even mean ; with 
 what belonged to her husband she was just, almost 
 generous ; she was respected by the neighbourhood, if 
 not beloved. The poor are very unreasonable ; a kind
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 21 
 
 look and word often go farther in winning upon their 
 affection than even a piece of coarse flannel, or a rem- 
 nant of dark print. 
 
 Henrietta, her niece, looked much prettier than she 
 really was ; she had good dark eyes, to which a soup- 
 qon of rouge^ put on with such skill that few sus- 
 pected it, gave all possible brightness. Her figure 
 was tall and slight, and she dressed to perfection. 
 Henrietta had not spent some years in Paris for no- 
 thing ; she was a remarkable instance of how much 
 we may do ourselves for our personal appearance. If 
 human beauty be a flower, as all poets and philoso- 
 phers assert that it is, a great deal may be done for 
 flowers by judicious cultivation.
 
 22 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 '•' Indeed, my dear aunt, I must impress upon you 
 how completely profitless is my present visit," said 
 Miss Aubrey ; " there is not a man in the house with 
 a serious thought."" 
 
 " Think for a moment," replied the Countess. 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed her niece, '' you are not going to 
 recommend General Trevor, who has a constitution 
 like that of France, which requires perpetual patch- 
 ing, and who would expect me to spend half the year 
 at Cheltenham." 
 
 '' General Trevor,*" returned her ladyship, gravely, 
 " would be a desperate resource. I do not think we 
 are driven to such yet. But — not to waste time — 
 what do you think of Lord Allerton ?" 
 
 *' Think!" ejaculated Henrietta, " that he has 
 neither eyes nor ears for any one but Mary Granard. 
 I do not think that he would know me, if he met me 
 out of the house." 
 
 " You will come tlie more freshly upon him when 
 he does observe you," said Lady Rotheles. 
 
 " I am sure," replied Miss Aubrey, looking sullenly
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 23 
 
 down, " Lord Allerton is a far more desperate resource 
 than General Trevor." 
 
 '' If you have any fancy for the General, you can 
 try him first,'' retorted the Countess. Henrietta's sole 
 reply was to raise her hands and eyes with an expres- 
 sion of dismay. " But I have," continued Lady Ro- 
 theles, " quite decided that you shall be Lady Allerton. 
 I could not endure to have one of that odious Lady 
 Anne's daughters for my nearest neighbour. I was 
 enraged when I found that Rotheles had asked them 
 down. But never was there a man so ill educated — 
 his three first wives have completely spoilt him. But 
 he is beginning a new and more rational system — he 
 now finds the necessity of consulting his wife a little. 
 However, in the present instance, it has been all for 
 the best." 
 
 '' For the best !" cried Miss Aubrey; " that 1 should 
 find the ground preoccupied !" 
 
 *' Yes," replied her aunt, '• considering the charac- 
 ter of the man. It will be far easier to make him fall 
 in love a second time than a first. It was worth a 
 great deal to make the bare idea of his being married 
 possible and familiar to him." 
 
 •*' Very good, had it been with myself," returned 
 Henrietta. 
 
 ^' Le bon terns viendra" said the Countess. " Lord 
 Allerton is that almost impossibility to manage — a 
 young man who has been a good match from his cra- 
 dle. He looks upon himself as the point of attack to
 
 ^4 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 every mamma and daughter who come within ear or 
 eyeshot. His love for Mary Granard has taken him 
 quite by surprise, and he is still reluctant and suspi- 
 cious of so novel a feeling. Once let his attention be 
 drawn to Lady Anne's manoeuvres, and once let him 
 suppose that Mary is a party to them, and the game 
 is in our own hands." 
 
 " But how," asked Miss Aubrey, anxiously, " is 
 this to be effected ?" 
 
 " I have already settled the whole plan," and Lady 
 Rotheles proceeded to detail her ingenious and heart- 
 less scheme. 
 
 *' Poor Mary !" was the involuntary exclamation of 
 her rival. Lady Rotheles looked first amazed, and 
 then scornful. 
 
 " Pray," said she, " keep any thing like sentiment 
 for Allerton. I am not the least afraid that you will 
 have too much. But one thing I beg to observe — I 
 shall expect active co-operation on your part. You 
 are clever enough if you exert yourself, and that is 
 what people usually do when it is for themselves." 
 
 '' But," continued Henrietta, " though Lord Aller- 
 ton''s affection may be diverted from Mary Granard, 
 I do not understand why it should turn towards me." 
 
 " Because," replied her aunt, " he will need an ob- 
 ject, and you are the only other girl in the house. A 
 young man in love passes his time very pleasantly — 
 rouse him from the dream, and, for a while, he does 
 not know what to do with himself. He wants an
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 25 
 
 object; and you, Henrietta, are just at hand to be 
 that object." 
 
 *' * Loving goes b}' haps ; 
 
 Some Cupids kill with arrows, some with traps;' " 
 
 muttered Miss Aubrey. 
 
 '' The character you assume," continued Lady Ro- 
 theles, not heeding the interruption, *' must be com- 
 pletely in opposition to that to which his attention is at 
 present directed. Mary is tame, meek, spiritless — you 
 must, therefore, be lively, quick, and piquante. For- 
 tunately, your Parisian tournure will save your viva- 
 city from vulgarity. Though, I must say, not one 
 English girl in a thousand is to be trusted out of the 
 security of insipidity ; but you are French enough to 
 be animated without being pert. Moreover, I do not 
 think it necessary that you should disguise your pre- 
 ference for Lord Allerton.'* 
 
 " 1 should be clever,'' thought Henrietta, *' to dis- 
 guise what does not exist." 
 
 But all that she deemed it necessary to express of 
 her secret thoughts was her sense of her aunt's kind- 
 ness, and, above all, of her aunt's talents. This tri- 
 bute was graciously received, for Lady Rotheles was a 
 Catherine de Medicis on a small scale. She delighted 
 in schemes and in projects ; she governed her husband 
 by a series of manoeuvres, whose only fault was their 
 being entirely wasted ; as a simple wish, openly ex- 
 pressed, would have answered every purpose. She 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 delighted both in her own affairs and those of her 
 neighbours ; and, though she could not, like the royal 
 intriguante^ sacrifice the lives of others, she scrupled 
 not at the chief sacrifice of domestic despotism — she 
 sacrificed their feelings. 
 
 . Lady Anne Granard was seated in an arm-chair, by 
 an open window — it was her favourite place, for it 
 commanded the sw^eep up to the house, and. she saw 
 every carriage as it drove round. Unconscious of her 
 near vicinity, Lord Allerton was outside, on the ter- 
 race, employed in taking a view of a particular turn 
 in the road, which Lady Rotheles had pointed out as 
 peculiarly well adapted for a sketch. He was looking 
 one way, and Lady Anne was looking the opposite 
 Moreover, a large orange-tree was a complete screen 
 between them. Still, had they been aware of each 
 other's presence, they might have carried on a con- 
 versation, which would have been mutually agreeable : 
 for Lady Anne, though convinced of her own pleasant 
 company, was always ready to bestow it on any one 
 rather than herself — it was her only act of disinterested 
 kindness — the only thing in the world that she was 
 ever ready to give. 
 
 Lord Allerton was beginning to get tired of draw- 
 ing, with no one to admire the freedom of his outline 
 and the beauty of his tints ; but, though fated to take 
 an important part in Lady Anne's conversation that 
 morning, it was only in the subordinate character of 
 listener.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 27 
 
 " Do you know where Miss Granard is ? *" said 
 Henrietta. " I have just finished sorting the costumes 
 in my dressing-room, which she so much wished to 
 see." 
 
 " She told me," thought Lord Allerton, " that her 
 mother wanted her particularly." 
 
 " Oh, pray do not," said Lady Anne, " show them 
 to her this morning. Mary is walking in the cypress 
 grove. Poor dear Mr. Granard gave her some very 
 bad habits ; and I find that, as they are past cure, I 
 must give way to them ; for, quiet as she seems, Mary 
 has a will of her own." 
 
 Now the bad habits to which Lady Anne alluded 
 were only those of air and exercise ; but, not stating 
 what they might be, Lord Allerton had full opportu- 
 nity to exercise his imagination concerning them. 
 
 " I do not feel inclined to walk," said Henrietta, 
 " so will wait till she returns." 
 
 " She is to walk one hour," replied Lady Anne ; 
 " it is for the sake of her complexion. It is necessary 
 to keep it up, though her's is just the sort of skin on 
 which a touch of rouge would never be suspected." 
 
 *' Miss Granard has a lovely colour," continued 
 Miss Aubrey. 
 
 " Yes," replied her mother ; " and that is the reason 
 why I always make her go down to breakfast. More- 
 over, Lord Allerton is an early riser, and of course he 
 is our first object." 
 
 " No wonder," added her companion, *' that Lord 
 
 c2
 
 28 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Allerton should admire Miss Granard, beautiful as 
 she is." 
 
 " It is very fortunate," said Lady Anne, " for it 
 will save me a world of trouble. Lord Allerton is 
 quite unobjectionable. True, the peerage is modern ; 
 but Rotheles told me that there is not a mortgage on 
 the estate." 
 
 " And then," exclaimed Henrietta, '' Lord Aller- 
 ton is so handsome, I quite understand Miss Gra- 
 nard's falling in love with him." 
 
 *' In love !" cried Lady Anne, with every possible 
 expression of scorn and surprise in her voice ; " I beg 
 that you will put no such nonsense into my daughter's 
 head ; and, I must say, that the sooner you put it out 
 of your own the better." 
 
 " To love a man like Lord Allerton," interrupted 
 Miss Aubrey, '^ does not seem to me nonsense ; but, 
 if Mary does not love him, what does she marry him 
 for .?" 
 
 " Why, what does a girl marry for ?" cried her 
 ladyship. " Mary marries for rank, independence — 
 and because she well know's that she has not a shilling 
 in the world." 
 
 " I would not marry the man whom I did not love," 
 ejaculated Miss Aubrey, ^' for any earthly considera- 
 tion." 
 
 " I hope you will not be silly enough to say this to 
 Mary ; not that it much matters. She knows that she 
 is to be Lady Allerton. [t was only last night," con-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 29 
 
 tinued Lady Anne, " that we were talking of her 
 wedding-dresses/' 
 
 '• Are they to be very splendid?'* asked Henrietta. 
 
 " Oh no," returned her companion ; " simple and 
 elegant. Fortunately, Mary's style suits simplicity. 
 I cannot afford much expense — when she is Lady Al- 
 lerton, she can be as extravagant as she pleases." 
 
 A short pause ensued in the conversation, which 
 was broken by Miss Aubrey saying, " I was so much 
 interested, yesterday, at dinner, with Lord Allerton's 
 account of the cottages that he is building ! I do not 
 wonder that a man of his wealth should prefer living 
 in the country, where he may do so much good, and 
 be so beloved. Then the country in England is beau- 
 tiful." 
 
 Lady Anne looked at the speaker with equal sur- 
 prise and scorn. " I cannot," interrupted her lady- 
 ship, " be too thankful that Mary has none of your 
 nonsensical notions — doing good, and the beauties of 
 the country ! — what moral essay have you been reading 
 this morning.^ But Mary knows what she marries 
 Lord Allerton for."" 
 
 " And," asked Henrietta, " what does she marry 
 Lord Allerton for?" 
 
 " She marries him," repUed Lady Anne, slowly, 
 even solemnly, " for a house in town, an opera-box, 
 and a diamond necklace." 
 
 " Three most unanswerable reasons," exclaimed 
 Henrietta, in the most scornful tone she could assume.
 
 30 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 The entrance of some visitors interrupted tlie conver- 
 sation, and they left the window. 
 
 Lord Allerton drew a deep breath, and put up his 
 sketch. " And so^" muttered he, '' the sweet, simple, 
 and quiet Mary marries me for a house in town, an 
 opera- box, and a diamond necklace." He sauntered 
 on in a reverie, divided between the remembrance uf 
 Miss Granard's soft blue eyes, and Miss Aubrey's 
 sweet and soft expression of feeling. The time past 
 away, and, as he returned to the house, he was met by 
 Lady Rotheles. 
 
 " What," exclaimed she, " loitering about ! I sup- 
 pose I must not ask for my drawing." Lord Allerton 
 said something about the fineness of the morning having 
 tempted him to walk. 
 
 '' Well," replied the Countess, '* there is a fatality 
 about to-day ; nobody does what they intended to do. 
 We meant to have driven over to the Priory this morn- 
 ing, but Lady Anne and Mary have just declared ofF.*" 
 
 " Wliy .?" asked his lordship, who remembered that 
 the Priory had been the chief subject of his and Miss 
 Granard"'s conversation, the previous evening. He 
 thought that his description of the beautiful old ruins 
 had interested her to the last degree, to say nothing 
 of the view they commanded of his own hanging woods. 
 
 " The Duke of Evandale," replied Lady Rotheles, 
 " has just sent a courier to announce his intention of 
 staying here to-night, on his way to the North ; and 
 Mary Granard having walked during the morning for
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 31 
 
 her complexion, will now stay in the house the rest 
 of the day to preserve it. A rich bachelor duke does 
 not come in the way often." 
 
 '* But,'* exclaimed Lord AUerton, ** the Duke is 
 upwards of sixty ; and a man whose notorious cha- 
 racter..." 
 
 " My dear young friend,'"* interrupted Lady Ro- 
 theles, laughing, " to think how we may be deceived 
 by appearances. I always took you for an unusually 
 shrewd and sensible person. This is no flattery, for 1 
 find that I was quite mistaken ; for who, with the least 
 observation, but must know that age and character 
 form no part of the matrimonial calculations of a 
 girl brought up as Mary Granard has been. But I 
 see my gardener waiting, and must let you escape 
 without further inquiries about my unfinished sketch."" 
 
 She turned away, and Lord AUerton walked rapidly 
 towards the stables. A few moments, and he was 
 galloping rapidly across the park, exclaiming, almost 
 aloud, in the energy of his gratitude," Thank Heaven, 
 I have not committed myself by a declaration !"
 
 32 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The dinner at the Castle was even gayer than usual. 
 The party was small, but so much the better ; the cir- 
 cle came more under the immediate influence of the 
 hostess, and no one could be more agreeable than Lady 
 Rotheles when she chose. 
 
 The duke, though upwards of sixty, was an agree- 
 able man of the world ; and Mary Granard was too 
 young and lovely not to attract a professed admirer of 
 beauty . 
 
 Lord AUerton was seated next Miss Aubrey, who 
 gave him sweet words and sweeter looks. Henrietta 
 had seen much of society, and was a lively and pleasant 
 talker ; her companion wanted to be anmsed, and was 
 almost surprised to find conversation so easy. He was, 
 more than he would himself have allowed, under the 
 influence of pique, and this gave its own charm to what- 
 ever was the most opposed to Mary Granard. Once 
 he caught sight, as the gold racing-cups were being 
 moved, of Mary's face ; it was turned towards the duke 
 with an expression of interest, and a smile the sweeter 
 for its very timidity. 
 
 His grace piqued himself on always being able to
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. SS 
 
 fascinate ; and, hitherto, the silence of his pretty com- 
 panion had been any thing but flattering to his vanity ; 
 but, in one of his many attempts at conversation, he 
 chanced to mention the part of the country in which 
 Granard Park was situated; and Mary could never 
 resist an inquiry about the dear old place. The duke 
 immediately remembered much more than he had 
 observed. 
 
 At that moment the gold cups were moved, and Lord 
 AUerton looked towards them. Small things are the 
 hinges on which great events turn 1 When we trace 
 to their source the most important circumstances of our 
 life, in what trifles have they originated ! — a look, a 
 word, are the ministers of fate. 
 
 Poor Mary found the dinner very long, but the even- 
 ing was yet longer ; the duke resumed his place at her 
 side, and Lord Allerton took his by Miss Aubrey. Hen- 
 rietta was looking her best, and was in brilHant spirits, 
 and her companion was surprised to find how much he 
 was entertained. 
 
 A still more agreeable surprise awaited him ; he was 
 passionately fond of music, and he found that Henri- 
 etta sang. Overdone as he had been with singing 
 young ladies, it appeared to him a most astonishing 
 fact, that he could have lived for a week in the house 
 with a girl possessing such an accomplishment, who 
 had not produced it for his especial benefit. 
 
 Henrietta was a first-rate musician, and it was ex- 
 traordinary how their taste coincided ; she sang all his 
 
 c 5
 
 34 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 favourite songs — they were her favourites also. He 
 was not aware how carefully Lady Rotheles had noted 
 his preference, and that Henrietta had the list by heart. 
 That night poor Mary sought her pillow with a pale 
 cheek and a tearful eye, and that night was but the 
 herald of many others. His caution aroused, though 
 in the wrong quarter 5 his vanity flattered, and his 
 evenings amused, Lord Allerton gave in to the snare 
 with a readiness beyond even their most sanguine hopes. 
 A few day's neglect made Mary shrink from even 
 speaking to him — a shyness increased by her mother's 
 reproaches. 
 
 As soon as the duke vanished, and gave no sign of 
 being more interested in Miss Granard than in the 
 thousand and one pretty girls that were daily forced 
 upon his notice, Lady Anne referred to Lord Allerton. 
 To her great surprise, she found him completely en- 
 grossed with Miss Aubrey, who immediately became 
 with her " that odious and artful girl." Moreover, she 
 declared it was all Mary*s fault, and tortured her with 
 perpetual wonder as to what could be the cause. 
 
 Mary, diffident of herself to the last degree, could 
 only set it down to Henrietta's superior charms ; but 
 bitter within her was the wonder at such change. True, 
 Lord Allerton had not committed himself by a positive 
 declaration ; but how often had he conveyed, by a look 
 or by a word, that she was beloved ! Mary had been 
 too happy to look forward ; for the first time since her 
 poor father's death, she had felt loved and valued. It
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 36 
 
 was so sweet to be cared for — love with her took even 
 a tenderer tone from gratitude. 
 
 Mary's was the very nature to put forth all its 
 strength and beauty under the fostering influence of 
 affection — she was a delicate flower that needed sun- 
 shine to unfold its brightest colours, and bring forth its 
 sweetest breath. She had been living in a fairy world, 
 which her own heart supplied with poetry. Tiie least 
 selfish of human beings, the advantages of a union with 
 Lord Allerton had never crossed her mind, unless it 
 were to think of how delightful it would be to have her 
 sisters staying with her. 
 
 But all this hope and happiness passed away like a 
 dream. With no fault of which she was conscious, no 
 cause which she could even imagine, she saw his atten- 
 tions suddenly transferred to another. Mary could 
 only remember all she had ever heard of inconstancy, 
 and repeat, night after night, the same exclamation, 
 " I am very unhappy — oh 1 that I had never seen 
 him!" To yield sadly and submissively seemed all 
 that she could do. 
 
 Her rival, Henrietta, would not have yielded so un- 
 resistingly ; but Henrietta was artful, decided, and 
 selfish. It is a strange thing, but true nevertheless, 
 that a lover is most easily influenced by the woman 
 who does not care for him. She is disturbed by no 
 fears or doubts ; fretted by no jealousies, she is ready 
 to flatter, and collected enough to observe when and 
 where the flattery will tell. Having no feelings of her
 
 56 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 own to control, she is better able to note his, and take 
 her course accordingly. 
 
 Henrietta had nothing to interfere with keeping a 
 perpetual watch over Lord Allerton j she had neither 
 timidity nor scruples 5 and she had that sort of ready 
 talent which makes a capital actress. Nature had 
 meant Henrietta to be something belter than society 
 had made her. She had loved — loved with all the in- 
 tenseness of an impassioned nature. Had that attach- 
 ment been more fortunate, she would have been a dif- 
 ferent creature ; but her sweetest and best feehngs had 
 been excited to gratify the lowest of all vanities, and 
 then neglected as carelessly as they had been called 
 forth. The iron had entered into her soul, and left its 
 own harshness behind-. She looked upon marriage in 
 that light which it is as fatal to a woman's delicacy as 
 to her happiness to consider it — merely as an esta- 
 blishment. 
 
 Mary's soft eyes, filled with unbidden tears, more 
 than once excited a feeling as like remorse as she was 
 now capable of experiencing ; but it w^as deadened, if 
 not dissipated, by the idea of being mistress of Aller- 
 ton Park on one hand, and being left still dependant 
 on her worldly aunt, who would visit upon her the 
 failure of their scheme. 
 
 "I have been thinKing," said Lord Rotheles to his 
 wife, as she came into the library with some letters to 
 be franked, "that Allerton has been trifling with 
 Mary.'' 
 
 ^
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 37 
 
 " I think/' interrupted the countess, '^ that he is 
 something of a fiirt ; but if he is trifling with any body, 
 it is with Henrietta," 
 
 *'\\'hyl*' exclaimed Rotheles, *' Lady Anne told 
 
 me " 
 
 (( 
 
 Spare me/' cried his wife, " the repetition of Lady 
 Anne's sayings. The fact is, her speculation on the 
 duke having failed. Lord Allerton comes in as next 
 desirable, and fancies that if you tell him to marry Miss 
 Granard, he must of course do it. You are master of 
 the house, and can order a husband as easily as a dinner 
 or a drive. You will only make yourself ridiculous by 
 interfering." 
 
 " I believe, my dear, that you are right," said his 
 lordshipj who was rapidly acquiring the laudable habit 
 of taking his wife's view of any given subject for 
 granted ; at all events, it was a process that saved him- 
 self a world of trouble. 
 
 " There is nothing," continued Lady Rotheles, " for 
 which I have so great a contempt as fcr this sort of 
 matrimonial manoeuvring. Let things take their own 
 course. But you know how much I dislike interfering 
 in any concerns that are not my own." 
 
 Lord Rotheles did not feel quite convinced by this 
 last assertion. The countess left the library, but 
 stopped for a moment's consideration as she passed 
 through the hall. «' Delays are dangerous," thought 
 she ; " Lord Allerton must make his offer now or never j 
 and unless it be done in a hurry, it will never be done,"
 
 38 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 She then took her way to the music-room, where, as 
 she surmised, she found Henrietta at the piano, and 
 Lord AUerton leaning over her. 
 
 " Henrietta," exclaimed she, " do go into my room, 
 and bring me down the Httle red book ; you are the 
 only one I can trust among my papers, and I am too 
 tired to go up stairs." Away went her obedient 
 niece 3 and Lord Allerton, a little annoyed at the duet 
 being interrupted, stood turning over some loose mu- 
 sic. " It is very provoking," said the countess, laugh- 
 ing, '^ that Rotheles is more often right than I am. 
 He is much more quick- sighted in affairs of the heart. 
 1 will not tell you all the handsome things that he has 
 been saying about you. Still, Lord Allerton, you have 
 kept me a little too much in the dark, for Henrietta is 
 to me as if she were a child of my own/' Before her 
 marriage. Lady Rotheles would have said, '* like a 
 sister." 
 
 At this moment Henrietta returned ; her aunt im- 
 mediately left the room, saying, with a meaning smile, 
 as she closed the door, " I see very well that I am de 
 trop ] but, Henrietta, you are a sad undutiful girl to 
 let your aunt be the last to find out what every one 
 else in the house knows." 
 
 The result of Lady Rotheles's system of non-inter- 
 ference showed itself the following day, when she came 
 into the drawing-room, where Lady Anne was placed 
 at her favourite window, and Mary seated at an em- 
 broidery frame, pale, silent, and pursuing her work 
 with a sort of sad, mechanical industry.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. S9 
 
 " Do you know," said Lady Rotheles, veiling her 
 triumph under an appearance of affectionate interest, 
 " that we shall soon have a wedding here ? I really 
 am quite foolish about it, for I am truly fond of Hen- 
 rietta. Lord Allerton is most fortunate in having se- 
 cured her affection." 
 
 " Miss Aubrey ! impossible 1 " cried Lady Anne 3 
 but she had no time to say more, for Mary had sunk 
 insensible beside the embroidery frame. 
 
 " How lucky," said Lady Rotheles, afterwards, to 
 her niece, " that Allerton was not by to witness such 
 a well-arranged piece of sensibility ! "
 
 40 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The drawing-rooms of the house in Welbeck Street 
 were light and pretty looking ; true, there was not 
 much furniture, neither was it of a costly descrip- 
 tion ; but the colours were cheerfid, with a prepon- 
 derance of pink, and a thousand feminine trifles gave 
 their own grace and gaiety. The ottomans were 
 embroidered, the screens exquisitely painted, the 
 flower-stand carefully tended ; while toys, the result 
 of ingenuity and industry, were scattered prodigally 
 round. No curtains were lined with a more judicious 
 couleur de rose, and the general effect left no room for 
 minute criticism, which was moreover disarmed by 
 three or four very pretty faces. No one ever spoke 
 of them but as *' light, elegant rooms." 
 
 The next floor had also cheerfulness and comfort : 
 it had many relics of Granard Park : there was the 
 large arm-chair, the sofa, and the glass a la Psyche. 
 Lady Anne indulged in very late hours. Mr. Gra- 
 nard had noted it in one of his pocket-books as a 
 remarkable fact, that his wife had breakfasted with 
 him three times in his life. 
 
 The back bedroom was occupied by her French 
 
 i
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 41 
 
 lady's-maid, whose office was certainly no sinecure, 
 for Lady Anne required to be waited on in every pos- 
 sible manner. Moreover, though still a remarkably 
 handsome woman, the Lady Anne Granard, the mo- 
 ther of five grown-up daughters, was not the Lady 
 Anne Granard of five and twenty. It was not so 
 easy to suit every shade of ribbon to her complexion ; 
 the cap, with its softening shadow of blonde was re- 
 quisite, and needed also some judicious management. 
 
 Of all toilettes, that of autumnal beauty is the most 
 difficult to superintend. The maid lacks credit, the 
 mistress satisfaction ; and even flattery loses its charm 
 with the too sincere looking-glass staring you full in 
 the face. Still this said toilette and its preparations 
 occupied great part of the day, though now it was 
 rather a habit than a pleasure. Unless on grand oc- 
 casions, where some especial object was in view, Fan- 
 chette did not wait on the young ladies ; and Louisa, 
 for Mary was every day more and more put aside, 
 knew very well that it was never without good and 
 sufficient reason, if, while she was dressing, a rap was 
 heard at tiie door, and Fanchette came in always with 
 the same message : " Mademoiselle, not but the taste 
 of mademoiselle was si parfaite, but Lady Anne had 
 sent her to do her young lady's hair." 
 
 The three attics were occupied by the girls ; Mary, 
 in right of her seniority, had the small third room to 
 herself Though fondly attached to her sisters, the 
 first on every occasion to give up to them, yet there 
 
 *
 
 42 LADY ANNii GRANARD. 
 
 was less of companionship between her and the others. 
 Their hght hopes and fears were in common ; they 
 could talk of the past, she could not bear to speak of 
 it. To Mary it was a relief to be alone ; Louisa and 
 Isabella occupied the front, Helen and Georgiana the 
 back attic. 
 
 One description may serve for all three rooms ; 
 they were whitewashed, uncurtained, uncarpeted, and 
 crowded with boxes. The only furniture were the 
 small beds — one obliged to be put directly across 
 the fireplace — a deal table and washing-stand, and 
 two rush-bottomed chairs. At the back they looked 
 out upon the mews ; in front had a bird's-eye view of 
 the roofs of the opposite houses over the parapet. It 
 was impossible to imagine anything more cold or com- 
 fortless, while it was a task of no small dexterity to 
 thread your way through the labyrinth of trunks, 
 bandboxes, &;c. 3 for it had of late years become a 
 maxim with Lady Anne that nothing ought to be 
 thrown or given away : what the elder sisters left off 
 might turn to account for the younger ones, and, as 
 she justly observed, " till a girl came out, it was of no 
 consequence what she wore." Good looks, or good 
 clothes, were sheer extravagance till they had been 
 presented. 
 
 The dining-room was very narrow 5 it had been 
 sacrificed to the hall, which was wide and airy. A 
 handsome hall gives at once a handsome appearance 
 to a house, and Lady Anne asked no one to dinner.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 48 
 
 The back parlour had been the schoolroom, and cer- 
 tainly never was there a more disconsolate apartment ; 
 every thing in it was common, every thing in it was old. 
 The table was usually loaded with work, and work of 
 the most ordinary and useful description ; the walls 
 were covered with paper, whose original colour and pat- 
 tern had long since merged in a dingy brown ; over 
 this were hung up some unframed drawings, and some 
 shelves on which were ranged all the old school books, 
 grammars, Pinnock's catechisms, and one or two 
 French novels that had belonged to a former go- 
 verness. Curtains were considered a superfluity, and 
 a form, with some common chairs, completed the fur- 
 niture. 
 
 The remainder of Lady Anne's establishment con- 
 sisted of a servant of all work, and a nondescript boy, 
 called a page. Cooking there was as little as possible; 
 and, the young ladies dressing each other, the unfor- 
 tunate kitchen-maid contrived to get through the 
 week ; but, as she often observed on a Sunday to any 
 dropping- in friend, she would not have stayed an hour 
 but for her young mistresses. 
 
 In short, the whole of Lady Anne's household was 
 the type of a system — it was false from beginning to 
 end. It aimed at a position in society she lacked the 
 means of retaining ; comfort was sacrificed to show ; 
 and all the better and more natural emotions merged 
 in vain speculations of aggrandisement. In nothing 
 were the feeUngs of others consulted ; but their opi-
 
 44 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 nious were of paramount importance. The world was 
 looked upon as a particular set, out of whose pale 
 there was neither interest nor refinement 5 the rest 
 were just common people, whom nobody knows. Lady 
 Anne would have been in despair if the Misses Gra- 
 nard had not been allowed at any party to be among 
 the most elegant girls in the room, but she cared as 
 little for their affection as for their comfort. 
 
 But her house, with its poverty and its pretence — 
 her daughters, with their accomplishments and priva- 
 tions — presented a picture, a common one, of to-day. 
 There is a mania in every class to be mistaken for 
 what it is not. Many things innocent, nay, even 
 graceful in themselves, become injurious and awkward 
 by unseasonable imitation. We follow, we copy ; first 
 comfort goes, and then respectability. A false seem- 
 ing is mistaken for refinement, and half life is thrown 
 away in worthless sacrifices to a set of hollow idols 
 called appearances. 
 
 The girls were crowded round the fireplace, silent 
 and shivering, when the page made his appearance. 
 " If you please, miss," said he, addressing any one 
 whose eye he might first happen to catch, " Mrs. Pal- 
 mer has sent over her servant to ask if the young la- 
 dies could come and drink tea with her. She is quite 
 alone, and it would be a real charity." The eyes of 
 the little circle briglitened. 
 
 " How kind !"*' cried Isabella. 
 
 " I wonder if mannna will let us go," said Helen, 
 timidly.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 45 
 
 " I will run upstairs and ask her," cried Georgiana. 
 " I manage her better than any of you." 
 
 " What do you want, child ? " asked Lady Anne, 
 pettislily, who was listening to the news that her 
 French maid had already collected of the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 " Oh, mamma," replied Georgiana, " we are all 
 getting chilblains with sitting in that cold parlour, 
 and—" 
 
 " Why do you not wear your gloves ?" interrupted 
 Lady Anne. *' I shall disown you for my child if you 
 have red hands.'* 
 
 '' No, no, mamma ; you know that we all take after 
 you, and never were there such pretty little white 
 hands in the world. But, mamma, I came to tell you 
 that Mrs. Palmer has sent to ask us to tea ; do let 
 us go." 
 
 " I wonder how you can bear that odious woman's 
 manners," returned her mother ; " I expect that you 
 will all grow like her in time. But it is of no use my 
 saying anything ; you will go if you chuse." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, mamma," cried Georgiana, not 
 chusing to hear any more, and down stairs she ran to 
 communicate the permission. 
 
 *' I knew she would let us go," cried Georgiana, 
 " when I praised her little white hands.'* 
 
 " Oh, Georgiana," cried Helen, colouring, «' how 
 can you flatter mamma as you do ! It is very wrong." 
 
 Poor Georgiana stood silent and abashed. When
 
 46 LADY AXNE GRANARD. 
 
 her sister took her hand, and said, '* But we know 
 very well that you did it to let us go — do not he 
 angry" — all unkindly feeling dissolved at the first 
 word, and the two girls kissed each other with an 
 affection, perhaps the more tender for such slight dif- 
 ference. 
 
 ** We must not," said Isabella, " keep Mrs. Palmer 
 waiting tea for us." 
 
 Tlie little party took the hint, and all prepared with 
 shawl and bonnet, excepting Mary and Louisa, both 
 of whom pleaded fatigue. Both wished to be silent, 
 though from different causes. Every day Mary felt 
 more and more disinclined to exertion, and Louisa 
 had a heart filled with those sweet fancies, over which 
 we delight to muse alone. She was expecting just a 
 few lines of welcome — one of those letters which we 
 are fain to read by ourselves, and whose charm be- 
 longs to the loveliest dream that haunts even youth. 
 
 Helen, Georgiana, and Isabella, soon crossed the 
 street, ran up stairs, without waiting to be announced, 
 and found themselves in JN'lrs.'Palmer's drawing- room. 
 It was a complete contrast to the back parlour they 
 had just left. The fire blazed, and the red curtains 
 excluded every breath of the damp night air. Sofa 
 and chairs were drawn towards the fireside, and Mrs. 
 Palmer was already seated at a tea-table loaded with 
 cakes, toast, and preserves. The kettle was singing 
 on the side, and a thin white column of smoke an- 
 nounced, that desideratum of tea- makers, that the 
 water boiled at a gallop.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 47 
 
 The kind old lady rose with a little of assumption 
 of dignity, which lasted till each of the blooming 
 girls came up in her turn to be kissed. The eldest 
 duly kissed first. 
 
 " How well you are all looking !" exclaimed she; 
 '* nothing like the country for girls, as I always used 
 to say at Claver House. Come, take" your places. 
 Helen, you shall pour out the coffee. Georgiana, 
 give me the water, and Isabella, you can hand the 
 muffins. I always make young people useful.*' All 
 gladly drew round the table, and Mrs. Palmer's ex- 
 hortation of " Poor dears, do enjoy yourselves,'' was 
 fulfilled, even to her own satisfaction. 
 
 "Palm," said she, "is gone to dine at his club, 
 they meet once a month, and he never misses. They 
 say clubs make men very unsociable, but I don't think 
 so. I am sure Palm always comes home in the best 
 of humours, and the next day he has lots of news. 
 Bless me, he brought home from the last dinner two 
 marriages, four christenings, and one death, no, not 
 quite, for old Mr. Clumber did not die, his life was 
 only despaired of.*" 
 
 "I wish it had been Mr. Glentworth," said Geor- 
 gian a. 
 
 "Well," cried Mrs. Palmer, "I cannot be sorry 
 at having you all back again. But what news from 
 Brighton ? any of you going to be married .'' any of 
 you lost your hearts ? though I do not know whether 
 it is quite right to talk to girls about their hearts.
 
 48 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 However, as we are quite by ourselves, you may as 
 well tell me what conquests you have made." 
 
 " Oh, we are not out yet," replied Georgiana, 
 " but Louisa had a new bonnet, in which she made 
 such a conquest ! Mamma would go mad if she knew 
 all about it." 
 
 *' Who was the gentleman ?" asked Mrs. Palmer, a 
 little anxiously. 
 
 '' Oh, Louisa refused bim at once," returned Isa- 
 bella, who caught the look. 
 
 '* Such a handsome young man !" cried Georgiana, 
 who replied only to the words, " Sir Henry Calthorpe, 
 with plenty of money." 
 
 " And why," asked the old lady, " would not 
 Louisa have him ?" 
 
 '' She did not like him," replied Helen. 
 
 *' Young ladies," returned Mrs. Palmer, with a 
 toucb of her former dignified authority, '* sbould not 
 permit themselves to take fancied likings and dis- 
 likings.*" 
 
 *' Louisa," said Helen, timidly, yet eagerly, ''never 
 could have liked any one so vain, so uninteresting as 
 Sir Henry, who made his offer, expecting her to be 
 divided between surprise and gratitude." 
 
 "He was one of those men," said Isabella, "who 
 have no separate existence from their tailor, unless, 
 indeed, a portion be claimed by the glover and boot- 
 maker. I should as soon think of marrying a suit of 
 clothes."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 49 
 
 " I wonder what," exclaimed Mrs. Palmer, good- 
 humouredly, " you young ladies would choose, if left 
 to yourselves.'* 
 
 *' I can tell you," answered Isabella ; " a lover for 
 Helen must be a pale, pensive, dark young man. He 
 must be given to fits of abstraction, and have some- 
 thing mysterious about him. Had we lived in the 
 time of the Peninsula war, her heart could not have 
 stood a week's siege from a young officer who wore his 
 arm in a sling. As to how they were to have existed 
 afterwards, they would, at least Helen would, never 
 have thought it worth a moment's consideration. She 
 would have formed some vague notion of 
 
 ' A tent on shore, a galley on the sea,' 
 
 or a cottage ' all woodbines and roses,' and, , but 
 
 dear Helen, I will spare your imagination, and not 
 finish my picture." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer looked a little alarmed, and said : — 
 " I think love all very proper in marriage, under 
 certain restrictions. I do not much like love in a cot- 
 tage, and yet I have known people very happy in cot- 
 tages. But well-educated young ladies ought never 
 to think about love, and yet I do not know how it is, 
 they always will. However, not to be talking too 
 much on such a delicate subject — we have not yet 
 heard what Georgiana would like." 
 
 ** Georgiana," answered Isabella, " would like her 
 myrtle wreath made of strawberry leaves. She has a 
 great idea of a duke, but would submit to be a 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 countess. Le futur must be rich, and I am afraid 
 that she is unreasonable enough to expect that he 
 should be young, and good-looking also." 
 
 "And pray what would you like yourself?" asked 
 her sister. 
 
 " I ask three good qualities,'* replied Isabella, 
 somewhat seriously ; ^' he must be kind, rich, and 
 rational." 
 
 '^Certainly young ladies now-a-days think a great 
 deal more about money than I did when I was a girl, 
 and yet I made a great match,'"* said Mrs. Palmer, 
 looking reverently back to the honours and glories of 
 her first marriage. " My dears, when I married poor 
 dear Black, he had two carriages, ten servants, and a 
 house in the Paragon." The girls well knew what 
 was coming, and at once looked serious attention. 
 ''But, my dears," continued the old lady, " human 
 prosperity is but a bubble, especially on the stock-ex- 
 change. At first I might have had gold, if I could 
 have eaten it; I afterwards knew what it was to want 
 bread. But we had good friends : do not believe those, 
 my dear children, who say that there is no kindness 
 or gratitude in the world. VVe met with both. I 
 opened a school on Clapham Common, and in the 
 course of a year twenty old friends sent me their 
 children." 
 
 " How kind you would be to them P^ exclaimed 
 Helen, who?:e largo soft grey eyes were yet larger and 
 softer, for the tears that had gradually swelled beneath 
 the long dark lashes.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 51 
 
 *' I hope," replied Mrs. Palmer, '' I did my duty 
 by them. It saddened me at first to see so many 
 young healthy faces, while there was death in that of 
 my husband, but at last the sight of them quite 
 heartened me. Poor dear Black never held up his 
 head after his failure, but he used, as he sat in his easy 
 chair, to like to hear the voices from the play-ground. 
 I cannot tell you why, but my heart warmed more to 
 him as he leant back pale and helpless in the little 
 green-room, than it had ever done in our grand house 
 in the Paragon. He was so patient, that I do believe 
 he brought God's favour on all our doings. I never 
 used to go up in the stage to London to get my gro- 
 ceries and things, but I always ran back from the 
 door to beg B's blessing." 
 
 If a smile did rise to the lips of her young hearers, 
 it was instantly repressed, the feeling was too sacred 
 and too tender for mirth. " He lived for three years, 
 and then went off like a sleeping child. I was reading 
 the Bible to him at the time, and thought that the 
 sunshine which came in at the window would be too 
 strong for his eyes. I looked up, and that glad and 
 beautiful light fell upon the face of the dead." 
 
 There was a deep silence, while Helen's vivid fancy 
 conjured up the scene. She knew the small neat room 
 — she had been with Mrs. Palmer to see it ; the cheerful 
 garden filled with flowers, the hum of the distant 
 play-ground, the rosy clusters of an acacia-tree, 
 whose branches almost came in at the window ; where 
 
 d2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 LADY ANNE GKANARD. 
 
 stood the old man, worn and wasted — Helen almost 
 fancied she could see the pale, yet tranquil face. 
 
 The silence was broken by iMrs. Palmer's saying : 
 
 " But I did not send for you to make you all dull. 
 God knows I sometimes wonder how we live over our 
 bitterest sorrows ! and yet we ought to be thankful, 
 for little avail is it to grieve over the past. I had a 
 very handsome monument placed in Clapham Church, 
 but I would not have 'by his disconsolate widow' 
 put upon it. I was not disconsolate ; I trusted in the 
 goodness of God, and I knew the good and kind old 
 man was only gone before me to another and a better 
 world." 
 
 " How much," said Helen, anxious in her turn to 
 divert the mind of their hostess, " I should have liked 
 to have been at school wdth you 1" 
 
 " Ah, my dear," exclaimed Mrs. Palmer, brighten- 
 ing up at the idea of past power, '* we should have 
 done each other credit. I can assure you there are 
 girls of mine at every court in Europe ; I gave into 
 none of the present idle fashions. It would have done 
 you good to have seen how upright they sat, with 
 their feet in the first position on a Sunday afternoon, 
 when they drank tea witli me. Then such a curtsey 
 as every girl made when she came into the parlour, 
 down to the very ground, and as steady as if they had 
 had no joints. Poor dears, I liked to see them enjoy 
 the seed-cake afterwards I have always kept the re- 
 ceipt, there is some of it in the plate, Georgiana, by 
 you."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 53 
 
 " Had you any favourites ?" asked Helen. 
 
 " Oh, that was a secret," replied Mrs. Palmer, 
 with an air of ministerial reserve ; " I was very careful 
 never to show any preferences, but I do not mean to 
 say but what I had them — human nature is human 
 nature — and there are some girls," with an affec- 
 tionate glance at the circle round her, *' that are so 
 very engaging." 
 
 " They must have loved you very dearly," exclaimed 
 Helen. 
 
 " I am sure I loved them," replied their hostess ; 
 ''every body talked of my good-luck, when Mr. Palmer, 
 whose three daughters had been finished, came down 
 to pay my Christmas bills, and married me during the 
 holydays — a kind, good man he has always been ; and 
 we never have had a word but once, when Caroline said, 
 before his face, that she would not be ruled by a school- 
 mistress and a stepmother ; and he was very angry 
 with her. Poor dear I he did not consider that a young 
 head never means half that it says. She left the 
 room, and he said that it was no use taking any one's 
 part who would not take her own." 
 
 " ^ am sure Mrs. Gooch is very fond of you now," 
 interrupted Helen. 
 
 " I found her crying when I went to look for her,*' 
 replied Mrs. Palmer, " and we never had another 
 quarrel. But, my dears, young people are very hasty. 
 Caroline never stopped to think that it was a great 
 comfort to me to marry her father. We had known
 
 54 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 each other for years, and knew each other's way. My 
 health was then very bad, and affairs at Claver House 
 were not as flourishing as they had been. I do not 
 know how others make a fortune ; I never could." 
 
 '' You were too kind and too liberal," cried Isabella. 
 
 *' Do not run away with the idea," replied Mrs, 
 Palmer, " that kindness and liberality are incompatible 
 with economy and business; but I had too many 
 claims upon me, and my health failed. I have al- 
 ways thought it a special instance of God's good pro- 
 vidence that my health and w^orldly prosperity were 
 at their best during poor Black's life 5 and when my 
 spirits began to grow weak, and my affairs em- 
 barrassed, then came Mr. Palmer. I have now been 
 married to him twenty years, and I have been a very 
 fortunate woman." 
 
 "And I hope you will be so for twenty years to come," 
 said Georgiana ; " I do not know what we should 
 do without you,*" while Helen put her hand in affec- 
 tionate silence into that of their kind friend. 
 
 " I am sure," replied Mrs. Palmer, " if it were not 
 wicked, I should be glad that you had the scarlet 
 fever; I am so much happier since I knew you. Mr. 
 Palmer's daughters all married during the first few 
 years ; and when he has been all day in the city, J 
 have felt very lonely ; but, seeing you all come in, 
 brings back so much to my memory. INIany and 
 many are the young faces that yours recall ; and you, 
 all of you, love me as I used to be loved."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 55 
 
 The allusion to the scarlet fever requires a little 
 explanation. In that fever originated the acquaintance 
 of the Granards with Mrs. Palmer. It was part of 
 Lady Anne's domestic policy to secure, if possible, an 
 invitation for herself and two of her daughters from 
 some friend who had a country house. This passed 
 away six weeks or so before they went to Brighton, 
 If nothing better offered, they paid a visit to Rotheles 
 Castle, for the earl, though brought to something very 
 like the entire submission of military discipline, yet 
 stood firm on what he considered the family duty of 
 asking his sister down every year. This invitation 
 Lady Rotheles gave ; and Lady Anne accepted, with 
 reluctant civility ;' still, a pleasing and elegant look- 
 ing woman like herself, fond of ecarte, which she 
 played with great skill, whose daughters were both 
 pretty and musical, rarely found herself at a loss what 
 to do with her autumn. 
 
 It was about three years previous to the present 
 evening that Lady Anne had gone, with her two eldest 
 daughters, on a visit to a very intimate friend. Lady 
 Penrhyn. The three younger ones were left under 
 the care of the French governess ; and their sole at- 
 tendant, the kitchen-maid. Mademoiselle Virginie de 
 Montmorenci (the French revolution seems rather to 
 have increased than lessened the number of the de- 
 scendants from the haute noblesse) was a fit governess 
 for Lady Anne ; she had a perfect Parisian accent, was 
 musical — all French women sing — had a great deal of
 
 56 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 tournure, the value of which she was always incul- 
 cating on her pupils : " La Grace plus belle que la 
 heaute^^ was invariably the quotation when putting on 
 her shawl ; and, it must be confessed, that never did 
 five English girls put on shawls to such perfection. 
 In that point, at least, their education was complete. 
 Her taste in dress was exquisite, and bitter were her 
 lamentations over the dark stuff dresses and the green 
 veils to which the younger Granards were condemned. 
 Information she had none, and principle never even 
 crossed her mind as a rule of action — '• cest char- 
 manty' or " c'est de mauvais gout,'' constituted her 
 sole idea of praise or blame. 
 
 In one thing she was unlike Lady Anne, for she 
 affected sentiment ; and the sympathies of her young 
 pupils were early awakened on behalf of Malvine and 
 Mathilde. Mademoiselle Virginie always set the ex- 
 ample of weeping ; she had an idea that tears were 
 feminine and becoming, and les malheurs d'un cceur 
 sensible made up a much larger portion of her con- 
 versation than Lady Anne would either have under- 
 stood or approved. * ' Les aimables sympathies*'' were the 
 ][ast things in the world that she would have tolerated. 
 
 The first week went off well enough j the mornings 
 were past in hearing histories told by Mademoiselle 
 to the honour and glory of her own beaux yeux^ in 
 divers fancy works, a few pages of Rollin, and then a 
 good many pages from Mathilde. The lady then 
 stated that she had some old friends just come to
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 57 
 
 London, and went out every evening. This was 
 against Lady Anne's express injunctions, but there 
 were too many quarters of the governess's salary due 
 for her to consider obedience indispensable. 
 
 Towards the end of the week the girls complained 
 of violent headaches and restless nights ; and before 
 Monday it was very obvious that they were all in a 
 high fever. Tuesday Isabella was delirious, and Made- 
 moiselle Virginie sent the maid to Covent Garden to 
 buy some herbs, which, she said, would form a sove- 
 reign tisane^ 
 
 On Sarah's return, she was surprised to see no light 
 in the hall ; she let herself in with the key ; no one 
 was stirring in the lower part of the house ; the fire 
 was out in the kitchen ; and the really kind-hearted 
 girl began to reproach herself that she had loitered a 
 little on her errand. She hastily lighted the fire, and 
 went up stairs to ask Mademoiselle how the herbs were 
 to be boiled ; she was surprised to hear no sound, for 
 the vicinity of Virginie de Montmorenci was rarely 
 matter of doubt — for, unless asleep, silence formed no 
 portion of her ordinary accomplishments — and was 
 still as death till she came to what Lady Anne always 
 called the young ladies' floor ; the words attic, or 
 garret, were absolutely banished from the language. 
 Then she heard a low moaning, and saw that the 
 rooms were quite dark. 
 
 She opened the first door, and beheld Isabella laid 
 across the bed ; she had apparently risen and fallen 
 
 D 5
 
 58 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 back, and lay quite unable to assist herself, but faintly 
 asking for water. Sarah replaced her head on the 
 pillow 'j and, after moistening her lips, hurried into 
 the next room. Georgiana had left her own bed ; she 
 was, from a child, timid in the dark, and was laid by 
 her sister, muttering incoherent expressions. 
 
 It was a complete but painful picture, the attitude 
 and contrast between the two sisters. Georgiana lay 
 in the common position of a sleeping child, her head 
 cradled upon her arm, her bright golden hair fal- 
 ling over her face, but showing the flushed cheek ; 
 while neck, face, even to the temples, were tinged 
 with a faint crimson. 
 
 Helen, on the contrary, was laid like one of the 
 monumental figures extended above an ancient tomb, 
 as straight, as rigid. The dark hair swept down on 
 either side in long masses, and left her face exposed, 
 which was wan as marble. The beautifully-cut features 
 seemed thin, even to transparency ; and their fixed 
 ghastliness alarmed the girl, who thought, at first, she 
 was dead ; but the breathing was quick and painful, 
 and every now and then a spasm convulsed the whole 
 countenance. 
 
 In her alarm she called on Mademoiselle Virginie 
 aloud ; there was no answer. Sarah felt sure that 
 she had been sent out of the way on purpose, and that 
 the governess was gone. 
 
 Her surmise was the truth ; jMademoisello Vir- 
 ginie de Montmorenci had lately formed an acquaint-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 59 
 
 ance with a gentJeman whose name was as high-sound- 
 ing and romantic as her own — Mr. Stanhope Fitz 
 Raymond. He had quite convinced her that her 
 genius was wholly lost in Lady Anne's family ; and 
 this evening she had decided to join her fate with his, 
 and commence operations on a wider scale. 
 
 She began by taking the few silver spoons which 
 were to be found, and leaving behind a useful lesson, 
 if people ever profited by such things, namely, that it 
 is as well not to leave your house and family in the 
 care of a foreigner, of whom you only know that her 
 accent is irreproachable, and that she puts on a shawl 
 to perfection. In the mean time, poor Sarah stood 
 aghast ; there she was alone with three girls appa- 
 rently dying ; but when nine and ten o'clock struck, 
 and no Mademoiselle Virginie appeared, her alarm was 
 at its height : at that moment came the appalhng dis- 
 covery that the silver spoons were missing also. 
 
 Sarah could bear no more : the very extremity of her 
 distress suggested a consolation. Her sister had lived 
 for some time as housemaid with a lady on the oppo- 
 site side of the street. She was married, and living in 
 the country ; but Sarah now recalled all that she had 
 heard her say of Mrs. Palmer's goodness. Without 
 hesitation she ran across, and asked to see the lady. 
 Mrs. Palmer did not allow her to get half through her 
 story before she rang for her shawl and bonnet, and 
 went herself to Lady Anne's. Her kind heart was 
 touched by the destitute state of the three young and
 
 60 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ovely creatures, who seemed to be dying before her 
 very eyes. She looked round the desolate rooms, un- 
 curtained and uncarpeted ; the evenings were now 
 damp and chilly, but no fire could be lighted in the 
 empty fireplaces — all was misery and discomfort. 
 ^ Mrs. Palmer left the room abruptly, and returned 
 
 home. She found Mr. Palmer slippered and arm- 
 chaired, only waiting her appearance to ring for the 
 scalloped oysters : he adhered almost as a duty to what 
 he called the " good old fashion of suppers." A few 
 words put the scalloped oysters aside for the present, 
 and lie entered warmly into the plans of his kind- 
 hearted wife. Servants, blankets, and carriage were 
 alike put in requisition, and, before they sat down to the 
 scalloped oysters, the three girls were safely in bed 
 beneath tlieir hospitable roof, and Mr. Carew, in whom 
 Mrs. Palmer had unlimited confidence, had seen them. 
 '' So much for your fine lady-mother," said IVIr. 
 Palmer, as he sat down to supper ; " you must write 
 to her, my dear, to-morrow, and then I suppose we 
 shall have her here in hysterics, worrying our very 
 lives out.'* 
 
 Ho was never more mistaken in any supposition. 
 Mrs. Palmer did write the next day what she flattered 
 herself was a masterpiece — she piqued herself upon 
 her letter-writing. As she was wont to observe, *' all 
 the }oung ladies of Claver House wrote such excel- 
 lent letters." Tlie idea of writing such excellent let- 
 ters, being that of making the smallest possible quan-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 61 
 
 tity of matter cover the largest possible quantity of 
 space, " any body," as the then Mrs. Black used to 
 observe, " can give some sort of account if any thing 
 remarkable has occurred ; but the great art is to write 
 a long letter when you have nothing to say/' 
 
 Now there was no lack of material for a letter to 
 Lady Anne, but it required all Mrs. Palmer's talent 
 for epistolary correspondence to give that material a 
 fitting shape. Tliough she would not have owned it, 
 even to herself — for it is a notable fact that we keep 
 ourselves most in the dark about ourselves — yet she 
 was a little embarrassed at the notion of having to write 
 to Lady Anne — there was something in a title — at least, 
 it was the first time she Jiad ever had the honour of 
 addressing one. 
 
 Then, as she pictured to herself Lady Anne quite 
 overwhelmed at the idea of her children's illness, she 
 was anxious not to alarm her too much ; and yet it 
 was necessary to state their danger, or she could not 
 excuse bringing them over to her own house. More- 
 over, she thought it incumbent upon her to point out 
 the injury done to thousands of deserving young wo- 
 men, by the preference given to foreigners. She knew 
 two most amiable sisters, who had been educated at 
 Claver House, now in want of situations. The fever 
 itself, she had no doubt, originated in some neglect of 
 the French governess — she would never allow one 
 to gain ground. The letter concluded with most ear- 
 nest entrestties that Lady Anne would not distress her-
 
 62 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 self unnecessarily, and that she would permit the deaf 
 children to remain under her charge till they were com- 
 pletely cured. Lady Anne complied literally with both 
 requests. 
 
 The next day, Mrs. Palmer received a very elegant- 
 looking epistle, franked by the Earl of Rotheles. She 
 was overwhelmed with a prodigality of most graceful 
 thanks; and Mademoiselle Virginie with an equal num- 
 ber of reproaches. Lady Anne was then overwhelmed, 
 in her turn, with the sense of Mrs. Palmer's kindness. 
 She could not justify to herself further intrusion ; still, 
 as she had pressed the children's stay so much, she 
 would accept the offer on account of her eldest daugh- 
 ters, for Mary's health was very delicate, and Louisa 
 at that time ill with a cold. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer thought her own letter a triumph of 
 skill — the real triumph was Lady Anne's. The girls, 
 though their illness was long and dangerous, recovered 
 under Mrs. Palmer's care, who watched over them as 
 if they had been her own ; and from that time an affec- 
 tion, as valuable as it was pleasant, sprang up between 
 them. When Lady Anne returned, she called, and 
 talked about every thing but the apothecary's bill. 
 The acquaintance became at once a matter of form be- 
 tween the two elder ladies, one that Lady Anne would 
 have broken off, if she could with the least regard to 
 common decency. But the girls clung to their new 
 and kind friend with all the earnestness of gratitude in 
 the young ; indeed, their chief pleasures anS comforts 
 thev owed to Mrs. Palmer.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 6S 
 
 CHAPTER Vi. 
 
 *' How pretty Louisa is looking this morning !" said 
 Lady Anne ; '' what a dreadful waste, with nobody in 
 town." 
 
 ''What a pity," replied Isabella, "that people can- 
 not have a savings-bank of good looks — hair, eyes, 
 and skin to be put out at interest till wanted 1" 
 
 " You would not trouble it much, child," returned 
 Lady Anne, pettishly ; '* you know you are the plain 
 one of the family. I do not know what I shall do with 
 you when you come out ; you will have no beauty but 
 that of youth." 
 
 " Then, mamma," exclaimed Isabella, " the sooner 
 you bring me out the better." 
 
 '' I am sure," cried her mother, " I have quite enough 
 on my hands. No, no, you must wait, and long enough 
 too, unless some of your sisters go off." 
 
 " Well,"*' answered she, " I can wait and improve." 
 
 " I do not think you will," w^as Lady Anne's ungra- 
 cious reply. She was herself a blonde ; and it seemed 
 almost a personal affront, that any of her children 
 could be brunettes. Even in Helen, who was a de- 
 cided beauty, she scarcely tolerated the dark hair ;
 
 64 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 but it was too much to endure in Isabella — dark hair, 
 eyes, and skin — yet Isabella was pretty, and promised 
 to be still prettier ; those large and penetrating orbs 
 were full of fire and expression, and the slight form 
 and regular features only required a little rounding 
 and filling up for positive beauty. Yet, from being 
 in a different style to what constituted the family- 
 standard of loveliness, the idea had never crossed Isa- 
 bella's mind ; she was accustomed to be considered the 
 plain one, and to that she quietly submitted. Still she 
 had her moments of mortification. Coming immedi- 
 ately after Georgiana, whose cherub beauty was quite 
 remarkable, she was perpetually subjected to the con- 
 trast, and that in a family where personal attractions 
 were considered every thing ; but in her the evil 
 wrought for good ; she became anxious to find some 
 means of supplying her deficiency. Gradually the 
 question arose, whether personal charms were quite 
 worthy the value set upon them, and whether the sole 
 object in existence was to be well married during your 
 first feeason. 
 
 Once set a strong mind thinking, and you have done 
 all that it needs for its education. It matters little 
 what is the first impetus, so that it only be set to work. 
 Isabella soon acquired the habit of reflection and com- 
 parison. She was the first to see how all real comfort 
 in their house was sacrificed to some vain show, and 
 that life had duties to fulfil, that were " unnamed, un- 
 known" in their circle.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. G5 
 
 More keenly alive perhaps than any of her sisters 
 to the little ridicules that belonged to Mrs. Palmer's 
 character, she yet saw how small was their importance, 
 and that Mrs. Palmer was not only a better but a 
 happier person than most of those with whom she was 
 acquainted. She early learned to detect and to de- 
 spise the paltry seeming and the miserable motive — 
 the great risk was that a mind so trained would be too 
 cold and too harsh in its views — but from those worst 
 of feminine faults, she was saved by her affection for 
 her sisters ; it subdued and softened her whole nature. 
 Perhaps she was the fondest of Mary — for Mary, lan- 
 guid and depressed, was most dependant on her kind- 
 ness — and in the slight attentions so grateful to an 
 invalid, she found most employment for the gene- 
 rosity of her active nature. 
 
 Isabella loved those best whom she served most. 
 Besides, she had a sort of fellow-feeling with Mary, 
 for Lady Anne's lamentations were always over her 
 eldest and youngest daughters — the one as having sur- 
 vived her beauty, the other as not likely to have any 
 to survive. A loud rap at the door made the whole 
 party start. Louisa coloured a deep, beautiful crim- 
 son. Lady Anne exclaimed, '' I am sure I shall be 
 glad to find that any one is in town as well as myself.** 
 And Isabella, going to the window, announced that it 
 was a dark cabriolet, and that Lady Penrhyn and her 
 brother were getting out of it. In another moment a 
 fashionable but haggard- looking woman came into the
 
 66 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 room, accompanied by a young and most gentleman- 
 like man. 
 
 " I made Charles drive me here to-day," said Lady 
 Penrhyn, '^ for Penrhyn has taken the carriage into 
 the city to-day, and at this season we have only one 
 pair of horses." 
 
 ''And what good fortune," cried Lady Anne, look- 
 ing as pleased as her style permitted her to look about 
 any thing, " has brought you to town ?" 
 
 " 111 fortune, you mean,'' replied the other ; " why, 
 the elections being safely over last autumn, Penrhyn 
 thinks that country hospitality is unnecessary for two 
 or three years to come. He will keep up his interest 
 in the county by coals and blankets to the poor, which 
 look well in the papers ; and, in the mean time, he 
 must make up what he calls his outlay of capital by 
 some speculation. He has come about the company 
 of a railroad." 
 
 Lady Anne drew up, and looked unutterable scorn ; 
 she did not, however, think it necessary to give utter- 
 ance to her thoughts in words, for she knew that Lady 
 Penrhyn objected to any one's sneering at her husband 
 but herself. Perhaps the pleasure was so great that 
 she thought it deserved a monopoly. Lady Penrhyn 
 now explained that the object of her visit was to ask 
 Lady Anne if she would accompany her to the theatre. 
 ' One must find something in the way of amusement, 
 so I have taken a box at the Olympic, and I rely upon 
 your going with me."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 67 
 
 Lady Anne assented at once ; it was just the sort of 
 thing she liked. It might be wondered that Lady Pen- 
 rhyn did not extend her invitation to the younger part 
 of the family ; no one who knew her ladyship would 
 have wondered at it. She did not patronize young 
 ladies — they were always superfluous, sometimes in- 
 convenient ; besides, flirting as she did to the last ex- 
 tremity of flirtation, she herself needed a sort of cha- 
 peron, and Lady Anne was just the sort of person who 
 was invaluable in the way of sanction. There had 
 never been even the shadow of an insinuation against 
 her perfect correctness, and yet she was d'une discre- 
 tion parfaite — she never saw or heard any thing more 
 than it was intended she should, she never believed 
 any tale of slander till the very last, *' because," as 
 she justly observed, '' scandal was so underbred, and 
 destroyed all the use of society ;" but when denial be- 
 came impossible, and les biens^ances were outraged, 
 nothing could then exceed her horror and indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 But both Lord and Lady Penrhyn are such complete 
 representatives of a class that they deserve longer men- 
 tion. John Penrhyn began life the younger brother of 
 a younger branch, and passed the first forty years of 
 his life in small, dark chambers in the Temple, twice 
 a year going the circuit which included his native 
 county. There were two, and two only, remarkable 
 circumstances connected with his early career : the 
 first was, that he never exceeded his slender income.
 
 nS LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 and, secondly, he never made the least progress in his 
 profession. He was regular in his habits, parsimoni- 
 ous, and industrious ; but he lacked all talent needed 
 at tlie bar — he had neither address, nor eloquence, nor 
 ingenuity. But, at the age of forty, " a change came 
 o'er the spirit of his dream," though the quotation is 
 somewhat misapplied, for he had neither spirit nor 
 dreams — an old and distant relative died, and left him 
 an immense fortune. 
 
 The genius of the man now developed itself — it was 
 that of making money out of money. A man must be 
 rich to be a miser, and Penrhyn was a miser heart and 
 soul. Now, avarice, like all other vices, has changed 
 its bearing since the days of our ancestors. It has 
 lost the picturesque ; no one now accumulates ingots 
 of gold, or bars of silver ; there are warehouses, not 
 caverns, for bales of rich stuffs, for '* ivorie, ambers 
 and all precious woods.*" The temples of Mammon 
 now are banking-houses and offices — in these Penrhyn 
 luxuriated. Moreover, he duly prepared to indulge in 
 all, as rich, that had appeared to him as indulgences 
 w^hile poor. He married for love — so it was said ; but 
 I hold he took his fair cousin from other motives. He 
 married for protection ; he was henceforth safe from 
 all designs and schemes, two wives not being legal 
 even in a man of his fortune. He was also more likelv 
 to be comfortable — a wife does make a house more 
 comfortable — it is more cheerful, clean, better aired, 
 with feminine supervision, and he liked to have all the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 69 
 
 minor comforts about him ; besides, it was the greater 
 contrast to his single life in chambers. 
 
 True, he married a girl without money ; but then, 
 as he calculated, she could make no demands for extra 
 expenses, prefacing each with '' you should remember, 
 sir, the fortune I brought you." Lastly, as the 
 settlements were in his own power, he calculated that 
 she would be more dependant on his good will and 
 pleasure. In this he was somewhat mistaken ; still 
 he was fond of her after his fashion — she could flatter 
 and persuade him a little. He took an odd sort of 
 pride in her conquests \ he considered them as so 
 many proofs of his own good taste. Jealous he was 
 not, for he only calculated, he never felt ; and his sum 
 total of the matter was, that his wife had too much to 
 lose if she ran away from him. In some things he 
 restrained her expenses, while in others he was posi- 
 tively lavish. He objected to lace at two or three 
 guineas a yard — that would wear out soon, and, once 
 gone, " is gone for ever ;" but he would load her with 
 diamonds. The great object of his life was a peerage ; 
 the house of commons was too turbulent for a man of 
 his quiet habits, but there was a repose in that of lords 
 which suited him exactly. Besides, he felt the mer- 
 cantile value of his title as a speculation — it told when 
 he was elected chairman of a committee, or one of the 
 directors of an insurance company. 
 
 It was wonderful how he had increased his private 
 fortune 5 but in wealth, as with St. Denis, cest la pre-
 
 70 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 mier pas qui coute — the difficulty is to commence the 
 accumulation, but, the first little heap laid by, and 
 then begin to think of your thousands and tens of 
 thousands — they will come in time. Lord Penrhyn had 
 no near relations, and no children. How civil people 
 were to him, and how many onward -looking hopes 
 were based on that civility ! The only near connexion 
 was his wife's brother, Charles Penrhyn, and for him 
 he had procured a place in the Foreign Office, as he 
 meant, some time or other, to push him forward in the 
 diplomatic line. But Lord Penrhyn disliked using his 
 influence, not from that honourable spirit of indepen- 
 dence which shrinks from undue obligation, but out of 
 sheer selfishness, which dreads lest it should be called 
 upon to make a return. 
 
 Lady Penrhyn cared little about her brother; he 
 was sometimes useful, and sometimes in the way. 
 Handsome and gentlemanlike, he was rather a credit 
 to her than otherwise ; he had between three or four 
 hundred a year, his club, his cab, and the run of her 
 house — what could he want more ! That he could 
 desire home, independence, or a sphere for the exer- 
 tion of what ability and industry he might possess, 
 crossed her mind as little as it did that of her husband. 
 Every one considers the w^orld as made especially for 
 their own purposes : Archimedes only desired to see 
 how far he could raise it by means of lever and screw ; 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller thought that the human race were 
 only created to be painted ; while Talma could only
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 71 
 
 say of any burst uf passion, How well that would tell 
 upon the stage ! or, as Wordsworth says, 
 
 " Each man has some one object of pursuit. 
 To which he sedulously devotes himself." 
 
 Now, Lady Penrhyn had her ruling passion — she 
 held that mankind were sent upon earth for one ex- 
 press purpose — to be flirted with; and she carried 
 flirtation to its last extremity. To no admiration was 
 she quite indifferent, unless she had been in possession 
 of it for some time — a lover was as necessary to her 
 existence as a diamond, but she was not very particu- 
 lar as to who that lover might be ; a list of her ado- 
 rateurs would have included a most curious collection 
 of contrasts. All the time she professed the utmost 
 devotion to her husband, and lover after lover was dis- 
 missed, not a little surprised to find that there was 
 some truth in it. The fact was, her husband repre- 
 sented house, carriage, and position in society. She 
 would have had something to lose by losing him, 
 whereas the loss of a lover was nothing. 
 
 It might seem at first sight extraordinary how she 
 contrived to keep her list so well supplied ; but nothing 
 deceives its possessor like vanity — so far from taking 
 warning by another's disappointment, it only holds it 
 as an additional trophy to its own success. Lady Pen- 
 rhyn had been, and was still, a very pretty woman, 
 with superb dark eyes., and a perfect understanding of 
 the toilette ; she dressed with seeming carelessness, 
 but it was truly " most studied to kill." Added to
 
 72 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 this, she had a handsome house, in which there was a 
 good deal going on. It was a pleasant lounge of a 
 morning, when you had nothing better to do with 
 yourself; and, if you were expected to flatter her 
 vanity, she was quite ready to flatter your's in return. 
 Such was the lady who, having finished her whisper- 
 ing conversation with her hostess, very unceremoni- 
 ously called her brother from a lively conversation 
 that was going on between him and the girls, just 
 gave them a languid bow% and departed. 
 
 " I wonder," said Lady Anne, as she too left the 
 room, *' what Lady Penrhyn takes her brother about 
 with her for ? He is neither a good match now, nor 
 ever likely to be one." 
 
 " I think," said Isabella, startling Louisa, who had 
 been watching the cabriolet dowm the street, " that 
 Lady Penrhyn might have asked you to go with 
 mamma." 
 
 "What should she ask me for?" exclaimed Louisa, 
 colouring. 
 
 '* Only because it would have given you pleasure," 
 replied her sister; " but when did Lady Penrhyn ever 
 think of any body's pleasure but her own .''"
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 73 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ^' Who do you think," exclaimed Lady Anne, as 
 she entered the drawing-room late next day with an 
 open letter in her hand, " is coming to London ?** 
 
 " Uncle Frank/' cried Isabella, whose quick eye 
 had caught sight of the hand- writing. 
 
 " I wish you would call people by their right 
 names/' said her mother, pettishly ; " you know very 
 well that Mr. Glentworth is not your uncle, and I 
 should not suppose that he would like to be called so.' 
 
 Isabella was silenced, though she could not but re- 
 member that he always seemed pleased at the appel- 
 lation given him when they were children, and that he 
 himself used the term in the numerous kind little 
 notes that accompanied his numerous presents. They 
 had not seen him for years ; still ^' Uncle Frank " was 
 among their most agreeable recollections. The few 
 pretty things, whether trinkets or toys, that they pos- 
 sessed, were all his gifts. If ever any of the girls had 
 taken a fancy to personify their good genius, they 
 would certainly have given to his image all they re- 
 membered of " Uncle Frank.'* 
 
 There was a less cordial feeling on Lady Anne's 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 side, or rather she secretly disliked and feared him. 
 Though some years younger than Mr. Granard, their 
 friendship was strong and sincere : and to Mr. Glent- 
 worth's remonstrances both to herself and to her 
 husband may be ascribed Lady Anne's distaste ; she 
 had also a natural dislike to all who were poor, and 
 this had long been the case with Mr. Glentworth. He 
 had been brought up as the heir to a large fortune, but 
 when his father died his affairs were found greatly 
 embarrassed. Frank's own share was protected by 
 the entail which ended in himself. He did not hesi- 
 tate a moment, but sold the estate and paid every 
 shilling ; though by so doing he left himself only a 
 narrow income, and offended an uncle from whom he 
 had great expectations, the said uncle not liking 
 to see the estate go out of the family, and yet refusing 
 to make any advance towards clearing it. In the 
 very prime of life, Mr. Glentworth found every pro- 
 spect gone ; he had only a meagre pittance, compared 
 to his former expenditure ; but he had neither the 
 habits nor the opportunity of increasing it. It was 
 too late to think of a profession, and he had lived too 
 many years in indolence and luxury to begin now with 
 business and exertion : cut off from his former sources 
 of pleasure, he fell back upon himself ; most people 
 forgot him 5 the few who remembered said " he was 
 grown so odd I" 
 
 In the mean time, he lived strictly within his in- 
 come ; did many kind, even generous things ; and,
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 75 
 
 during the course of his travels, obtained sufficient 
 experience to form an advantageous commercial con- 
 nection with a house at Marseilles. This gave him 
 employment and independence, and above all things 
 enabled him to look forward. When he thought of 
 England, it was always in connection with his friend 
 Granard's orphan family, and now that he was 
 coming, his first letter was to them. 
 
 " And what do you think brings Mr.- Glentworth 
 to London ?" asked Lady Anne. 
 
 " Business," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Business \" exclaimed her mother ; '* you learnt 
 that odious word from the Palmers ; indeed, he is a 
 great deal too rich to think of business. Heartily 
 ashamed will he now be of that horrid connection he 
 has formed somewhere abroad ; not that I ever un- 
 derstand those sort of things. I wonder that he could 
 not live like a gentleman quietly in London.*' 
 
 '^ You forget, mamma," returned Isabella, '' that 
 you always told us he was very poor ; though I am 
 sure no one would think it from the presents he used 
 to send us."" 
 
 " Very odd," replied Lady Anne, " how fond he 
 always was of you all — a lucky thing now. But only 
 think, that tiresome Mr. Glentworth, who would die 
 while we were at Brighton, is our Mr. Glentworth's 
 old uncle, who has left him all his money.*" 
 
 " How glad I am !" was the universal exclamation. 
 
 " How foolish of us," exclaimed Georgiana, " to be 
 
 E 2
 
 76 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 so sorry for Mr. Glentworth's death ! I have heard 
 Fanchette say he was immensely rich/* 
 
 " Mr. Frank," continued Lady Anne, " has asked 
 himself to dine here to-morrow." 
 
 " How very delightful !" cried Isabella. 
 
 *' How very provoking 1" interrupted her mother ; 
 " he might just as well have called in the morning." 
 
 '' I do not think," said Mary, " that Mr. Glent- 
 worth will trouble his head much about his dinner ; 
 he must have altered very much if he does." 
 
 '* What a bad habit you have, Mary," cried Lady 
 Anne, "of remembering what happened so long ago ! 
 However, perhaps Mr. Glentworth may be flattered 
 by it. But the question now is, what shall we do 
 about dinner ? I dare say Mrs. Palmer will lend us 
 things." 
 
 The girls all coloured simultaneously, but only 
 Isabella had courage to answer. ** Is there any ne- 
 cessity, mamma, for our borrowing any thing.''" 
 
 " A very great necessity," repUed Lady Anne. "Mr. 
 Glenworth used to dine with us at Granard Park, 
 and I have no idea of his looking down upon us now." 
 
 " I am sure," cried Isabella, " that he is much too 
 kind to do that ; I don't think that he would care how 
 poor we were." 
 
 " We owe it," replied Lady Anne, " to ourselves to 
 ' keep up appearances.' I shall write myself to Mrs. 
 Palmer. Of course, she will be flattered by my ask- 
 ing a favour." The girls looked aghast one at the other 
 
 " I am sure," said Isabella, " if I were as rude to
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 77 
 
 Mrs. Palmer as mamma is, I could die before I could 
 ask a favour of her." This speech was unheard, as 
 Lady Anne was busy, writing to her opposite neigh- 
 bour the following note : — 
 
 '' Dear madam — I am just hurried out of my life by 
 the unexpected arrival of an old friend of our family's, 
 who has just come into his uncle, Mr. Glentworth's 
 property, and a visit to England has become neces- 
 sary. He dines with us to-morrow ; and, what with 
 my sudden arrival from Brighton, and one thing or 
 other, we are in utter confusion. May I rely on your 
 kindness to supply our deficiencies in plate, china, 
 &c. ? Perhaps also you will allow your cook to give 
 mine some instructions. It is of such vital importance 
 to the dear children's interests, that Mr. Glentworth 
 should be conciliated, that I know you will be inter- 
 ested in our behalf. I shall send two of the girls over 
 with this petit billet to receive your instructions.. 
 
 " Yours, dear Mrs. Palmer, 
 " Most truly, 
 
 " Anne Granard." 
 
 The note was written in a delicate hand with a 
 crow-quill, on primrose-coloured paper, with a lilac 
 seal — the motto *' tout a vous ;" and the whole with 
 just a faint perfume of jasmine. It was, as Lady 
 Anne said, " perfectly irresistible. You will take this 
 note at once," she added, addressing Georgiana and 
 Isabella. 
 
 " Oh ! mamma," cried the latter, " could you not 
 send the page ?"
 
 78 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 '' He has to go to a dozen places ; besides/* con- 
 tinued Lady Anne, " you will manage the business 
 much better, and bring me word what Mrs. Palmer 
 thinks we shall want."" From this there was no appeal ; 
 but the heroine, in the old ballad of Barbara Allen, 
 
 when 
 
 " So slowly she put on her clothes, 
 
 **So slowly she drew nigh him," 
 
 could not have set off on her errand more reluctantly 
 than the two Misses Granard crossed the street. They 
 gave a low uncertain rap at the door ; were kept wait- 
 ing in consequence, during which time they suffered 
 a little agony of anticipation, and at last found them- 
 selves in the drawing-room, which they usually en- 
 tered with such alacrity. Fortunately, Mrs. Palmer 
 was so employed with her dumb pets, that she had no 
 time to notice her speaking ones beyond her usual kind 
 greeting. ^* Just come," said she, " as I wanted you. 
 There, Georgiana, you can hold my Java sparrow ; he 
 knows you, and Isabella will hold the cage.'* The 
 changing the seeds and putting fresh water took up 
 enough time to allow the visitors to recover themselves 
 a little. But the moment they drew quietly round the 
 fire, Mrs. Palmer saw that there was something the 
 matter. They were first absent, then began to speak 
 hurriedly, and yet broke off abruptly. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ?" at last exclaimed 
 she, suddenly. 
 
 " Nothing," said Georgiana.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. , 79 
 
 " Only,** replied Helen, '^ only that we have a note 
 from mamma to give you." 
 
 "And why do you not give it to me ?" asked Mrs. 
 Palmer. 
 
 "Because ' said both at once but neither 
 
 finished the sentence ; however, Isabella gave the note, 
 which Mrs. Palmerjhaving first found her spectacles, 
 duly read. 
 
 " There is nothing in this note about yourselves," 
 said the kind old lady, " so, before I answer it, tell 
 me what is the matter with you." 
 
 '^ Nothing but the note," replied Georgiana. 
 
 "I will conceal nothing,"" said Isabella, firmly; *'we 
 feared that you might not be pleased with mamma's 
 note. It seemed that we were too ready to take ad- 
 vantage of your kindness." 
 
 '' It would not be your doing then, my dears," an- 
 swered Mrs. Palmer ; " but we ought to be glad, as 
 good christians, to help one another, if it be only in the 
 lending a few silver spoons, Fll tell you the truth, 
 my dears, and that may be blamed, but it can't be 
 shamed. I don't like your mamma, and she looks 
 down upon me ; which of us is right is no business of 
 ours just now. But I would do any thing I could to 
 oblige her, if it were only for your sakes ; so you may 
 give her my best compliments ; or stay, as she wrote 
 me a note, I will write her one. Nothing is so rude as 
 to send a verbal message." Mrs. Palmer then wrote 
 her note, while the young people felt more and more
 
 80 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 at home, as she employed them in some little office of 
 assistance. They mended her a pen, which exactly 
 suited her hand ; they folded the note and sealed it, 
 first reading it aloud for their approval : — 
 
 " Mrs. Palmer's best compliments (I did not say dear 
 madam, for I do not feel it) to Lady Anne Granard, 
 and begs to say that any thing she has is quite at her 
 service. Perhaps she v^^ill allow her to send over the 
 cook and butler for to-morrow ; and Mrs. Palmer only 
 hopes that Lady Anne Granard will do her the favour 
 of mentioning any little service, which it will be a real 
 pleasure to offer. 
 
 " And now, dears, go home at once. I suppose I 
 must not hope to see you to-morrow, but the next day 
 you must come and tell me how the dinner went off.*'' 
 
 " We will give you," said Isabella, " a full and par- 
 ticular account of uncle Frank." 
 
 '' You should say Mr. Glentworth," exclaimed 
 Georgiana. " You know mamma said it would make 
 him feel so old to have us call him uncle ; and, do 
 you know, I am quite sure that she means him to 
 marry Mary." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer shook her head, and Isabella reminded 
 her sister that mamma would be waiting. At the 
 hall door they were met by Helen, for a moment so 
 eager to tell her news, that she forgot to ask the re- 
 sult of their embassy. 
 
 " Who do you think has just driven through the 
 street?"
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 81 
 
 " Mr. Glentworth," exclaimed the girls. 
 
 ** No, no, our beautiful stranger," replied she. 
 
 "Are you quite sure?" cried Isabella, her dark 
 eyes kindling with delight. 
 
 *' I saw her returned, Helen, as distinctly as I see 
 you. I tried to catch her eye, but in vain." 
 
 " Oh, what would I not give to see her again 1" said 
 Isabella. The beautiful stranger, as with girlish ro- 
 mance they called her among themselves, was the 
 only mystery in their brief and uneventful lives. 
 When Isabella was ten and Georgiana two years 
 older, they formed an acquaintance on the sands near 
 Brighton with a lady, who, like themselves, seemed to 
 confine her rambles to the most solitary part of the 
 coast. The fact was, that Lady Anne, aware of the 
 worse than common attire of the younger children, 
 always ordered them to be kept out of sight as much 
 as possible. Still, they were too pretty to need the 
 aid of dress, and the stranger, attracted by their ap- 
 pearance, formed an acquaintance with them : two or 
 three times they went to her small, but elegant-look- 
 ing villa, where cakes and fruit always awaited them. 
 A careless phrase of Georgiana's drew Lady Anne's 
 attention to the matter ; the maid was questioned, and 
 divers suspicions, very unfavourable to their beautiful 
 and secluded hostess, entered the minds of both maid 
 and mistress. The intercourse was strictly forbidden, 
 and for some mornings they walked in an opposite di- 
 rection. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 The first time that they took their accustomed 
 stroll, they met the lady walking slowly along. The 
 moment she caught sight of the children, she came 
 eagerly forward, but was met, to her great surprise, by 
 reserve, though it was mixed with an obvious wish 
 to speak. At that moment the servant said pertly, 
 '• You were told, young ladies, that your mamma does 
 not approve of your speaking to nobody knows who." 
 
 " Is that all ?" said the lady, with her own peculiar 
 sad smile. " I will not detain you now ; but this 
 evening I will write to Lady Anne, and I dare say 
 that she will allow you to come and drink tea with 
 me." The note came ; what its contents were Lady 
 Anne kept to herself, but the children received per- 
 mission to spend the afternoon with Mrs. Cranstoun. 
 For two successive years the acquaintance continued. 
 Mrs. Cranstoun remained for a couple of months 
 every autumn in the same villa, and the three younger 
 girls were more there than at home. An old Scotch 
 lady, grave, silent, and even stern in her manner, was 
 the only living creature they ever saw besides the 
 servants. Every thing indicated wealth ; books, music, 
 flowers, and the pretty trifles scattered round were all 
 of the most expensive kind, and their hostess was 
 young, and singularly beautiful, but some mystery 
 there certainly was. 
 
 What could induce one so formed for society to live 
 in such entire seclusion ! Chlklren as the Granards 
 were, they understood that there was something a
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 83 
 
 little out of the ordinary course, in their acquaintance, 
 but the very mystery gave its charm — it was the one 
 touch of poetry in their usually prosaic existence — and 
 Mrs. Cranstoun was the very being about whom to 
 imagine a romance. Shght and delicately formed, 
 her figure was as childish as that of her young com- 
 panions, but her movements lacked the buoyancy of 
 youth ; they were slow and languid, though graceful 
 to a degree, that an artist might have studied. All 
 that the girls knew of her was that she was born in 
 Italy ; and she had the pale complexion, whose daz- 
 zling whiteness was unbroken by the rose, and the 
 large black eyes which mark southern beauty. She 
 looked very young, but there was that about her, 
 which told that time had not passed lightly over her ; 
 her years might be few, but they had been marked 
 by those sorrows which steal sunshine from the eyes. 
 A perpetual shadow seemed to weigh down those long 
 dark eyelashes, as if heavy with the weight of unshed 
 tears ; and the lip had the sweetness of a smile, but 
 not its gaiety. 
 
 She clung to the lovely children, as those cling to 
 any interest that breaks upon a life otherwise mono- 
 tonous. Their cheerfulness was the sunshine ; she did 
 not join in it, but she liked to see it. It never oc- 
 curred to her to offer her young guests the amuse- 
 ments usual to their age, but she shared her own with 
 them. They would sit whole mornings in the draw- 
 ing-room, from whence daylight was carefully ex-
 
 84 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 eluded, only a chance sunbeam, as the wind waved the 
 blind to and fro, wandered over the various exotics 
 which filled the air wdth perfume. Amenaide, for 
 such was her name, would recline on a pile of cushions 
 in the midst of the little group, one of whom would 
 read aloud, gradually learning to imitate the low me- 
 lancholy tones with which she herself read . 
 
 The girls acquired more knowledge of English ima- 
 ginative literature, than in the whole previous course 
 of their lives, and when the book was closed, and they 
 talked over the just finished poem or narrative, insen- 
 sibly the taste was formed, for that of their guide was 
 exquisite. Amenaide w^as one of those beings on 
 whom nature, like a fairy, lavishes her best gifts of 
 keen sensibility, a fine perception of the beautiful, and 
 an intuitive feeling of the right. Perhaps her views 
 of life were too morbid, but her companions had 
 enough cheerfulness to counterbalance any undue 
 tinge of sadness given by one who had obviously suffered 
 much. Then — for they had all the sweet voice, and 
 fine-toned ear, which must be a charmed birthright, 
 as no art can ever give it — they dehghted to catch 
 from her the Scottish and Italian airs, which she sangr 
 with an expression, the very meaning of their wild 
 melody. 
 
 She would often talk to them of Italy and India, 
 but with her childhood her remembrances seemed to 
 stop ; she never talked of any other portion of her life. 
 Neglected and unloved, as these worse than orphan
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 85 
 
 girls appeared to be, it was strange how friends sprang 
 up for them. Mrs. Palmer was their good genius in 
 common life, while Amenaide was the fairy that led 
 them through the charmed regions of romance, and of 
 music. It was curious to mark the attraction that 
 invariably seems to exist between opposite natures. 
 Helen, the most enthusiastic, the most highly-toned of 
 the family, was the favourite with the practical and 
 sober-minded Mrs. Palmer ; while Isabella, the more 
 shrewd, sensible, and firm, was the favourite with the 
 romantic and pensive stranger — and devotedly was her 
 attachment repaid. Always kept in the background, 
 and undervalued by Lady Anne, who disliked the 
 spirit of active usefulness which characterized her 
 youngest daughter, this was the first time that Isa- 
 bella had been loved for herself; and she requited it^. 
 as love is returned in youth, and youth only — grateful, 
 eager, and undoubting. 
 
 It was now two years since they had seen her ; the 
 villa had been let for the last two autumns to other 
 occupants. Deep had been the disappointment, when, 
 turning their steps in the accustomed direction, they 
 saw the quiet and secluded cottage, where hours had 
 passed like a dream of poetry, a scene of noise and 
 bustle. The blinds were drawn up, the plants re- 
 moved from the steps, and the lawn occupied by some 
 six or seven children, who, if they came to Brighton 
 for their health, had, at all events, a good stock on 
 hand to begin with. From that time they had heard
 
 86 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 nothing more of their beautiful stranger, till Helen 
 caught sight of her, driving past. For a few moments 
 even Mrs. Palmer's reception of Lady Anne's note 
 was forgotten, and it was not till they heard her bell 
 ring violently, that Isabella recollected that she still 
 held the important missive in her hand. 
 
 The next day was one of constant hurry and 
 anxiety. In all places, and under all places and cir- 
 cumstances, (English places and circumstances) the 
 dinner is the most important event — the epoch of the 
 day, the first care of the morning, the last satisfaction 
 of night. Modern history might be told by a suc- 
 cession of dinners ; to-day, a dinner commemorates re- 
 form ; to-morrow the reverse. Now O'Connell ap- 
 peals to the sympathies of his hearers at Birmingham 
 on behalf of the finest and most ill-used peasantry on 
 earth : then three courses and a desert are served 
 up in Sir Robert Peel's honour, by the Merchant 
 Tailors' Company. But dinners are not only charged 
 with the fate of " Caesar, and of Rome :" they also 
 belong to the usual routine of existence. The cook 
 is the most important person in the household — the 
 master's temper, the mistress's comfort depend upon 
 her — every thing else revolves in an axis around five, 
 six, seven o'clock, or whatever may be the appointed 
 hour for sounding *' that tocsin of the heart, the 
 dinner-bell." So much for every day ; but, when to 
 the word dinner is added the word party, great is the 
 tumult thereof. Even where servants are many, and
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 87 
 
 " expense no object," it is a consideration : the master 
 feels that his credit is at stake ; and, as no dinner is 
 given without a motive, on its success depends also 
 the success of his scheme. 
 
 But, of all cases, the most extreme is where the 
 party is out of the common course of things. Now no 
 one could it be so far removed from the ordinary cur- 
 rent of existence as at Lady Anne's. It had literally 
 never happened before ; none could recollect the fact 
 of a friend having even lunched there. Lady Anne 
 gave over-night orders upon orders, but the next day 
 they were left to be executed by five inexperienced 
 girls, a boy, and a kitchen-maid. Here Mrs. Palmer's 
 forethought stood them in good stead ; her cook was 
 sent over the first thing, who seemed not a little 
 alarmed at the poverty of the land. However, she 
 had been strictly enjoined to make the best of every 
 thing, and her own kitchen was close at hand, while 
 she knew that in the course of the morning a basket 
 of game and fruit, &c. would arrive, veiled under the 
 pretext that Mrs. Palmer had just received them her- 
 self from the country. 
 
 '' I do not believe," said Lady Anne, as she took 
 her last look in the glass, at the result of her careful 
 toilette, '' that Mr. Glentworth will find me much al- 
 tered, and yet it is twelve years since I saw him.'* 
 She certainly looked very handsome : the black velvet 
 dress set off her still fair skin, the blonde filled up any 
 angles, the few pink flowers in the cap gave it light-
 
 88 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ness, while its being somewhat close, concealed that 
 the cheek was less rounded than of yore, and, though 
 the whole costume was exquisitely becoming, no one 
 could say that it affected youthfulness. Lady Anne 
 had too good taste for that. Still, any one who knew 
 her not, might have thought, from the unusual care 
 and pains bestowed on her appearance, that she her- 
 self meditated a conquest of their visiter. They would 
 have been wrong in their surmise ; Lady Anne was too 
 intensely selfish herself, to suspect any one of being 
 otherwise. Poor, with five unportioned daugliters, 
 no one could think of such a folly as marrying her. 
 Her attention to the toilette of to-day had for motive 
 the long habit of personal vanity, and a wish to show 
 how little twelve years had altered her. 
 
 Not but what she had her own castle building, but 
 it was with reference — she had decided that it would 
 be the most proper thing in the world for Mr. Glent- 
 worth to marry Mary. She remembered him a grave 
 silent young man, Mary was grave and silent too. 
 She had never liked him, but that was of little mo- 
 ment now ; Mary could not afford to be particular, she 
 ought only to be thankful for such a chance. 
 
 " Mary," said her mother, on entering the draw- 
 ing-room, where the elder girls were employed in 
 those slight decorations which female taste knows so 
 well how to give, *' I beg that you will not over- 
 fatigue yourself ; go and lie down on the sofa in ray 
 room. Fanchette will come to you when it is time for 
 you to dress."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 89 
 
 Mary obeyed in wondering silence, which was in- 
 creased when the French soubriette obviously taxed 
 her abilities to the utmost ; she had received full in- 
 structions from her mistress. '* Dress her hair in loose 
 falling curls, they will best conceal the thinness of her 
 face, and put in a nceud or two coulour de rose to 
 lighten her up a little, and Fanchette, just give one 
 touch of rouge." 
 
 " What time," asked Louisa, " do you expect Mr. 
 Glentworth ?" 
 
 '' Not till dinner," replied her mother, " which is 
 exceedingly lucky ; a man is always in better humour 
 when he has had his dinner. By the by, Isabella, I 
 do not see any necessity for your making your appear- 
 ance ; you will be supposed in the schoolroom, and 
 Georgiana must wear the white muslin frock. You 
 can make yourself very useful, as some one must see 
 to the dessert being properly sent up, and, as I mean 
 to have tea and coflFee made out of the room, you 
 must help Fanchette." 
 
 Isabella felt more disappointed than she liked to 
 express. Uncle Frank was associated with so many 
 kind notes and pretty presents, that she had a natural 
 and affectionate wish to see him ; moreover, she could 
 not but feel keenly the difference always made be- 
 tween herself and the others. 
 
 " Oh, mamma," cried Georgiana, and the speech 
 was heroic for her who dearly loved dress, ** I would 
 rather wear my merino, and then I should keep Isa- 
 bella in countenance.'*
 
 90 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " I wish," said Lady Anne, ^* that my daughters 
 would not take the trouble of thinking for me — I have 
 settled the matter as I think best. I cannot imagine 
 why I should be so unlucky as to have so many girls j 
 it is really too provoking." 
 
 " I wonder what Uncle Frank is like ? " said Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 " I fancy him," replied Georgiana, " in a brown 
 coat and wig." 
 
 *' I dare say,'"* continued Lady Anne, " that he has 
 got all sorts of odd ways and habits ; but you must none 
 of you mind them. He is now rich enough to have 
 a style of his own. Be sure you contrive to let him 
 know that we usually dine early — I want him to ac- 
 quire a habit of spending his evenings here ; but a 
 dinner every day would be too much of a good thing 
 — we should be ruined in a week." 
 
 " I have borrowed Mrs. Palmer's backgammon- 
 board," said Isabella, whose notion of an elderly gen- 
 tleman''s amusements of an evening was derived from 
 what she had seen Mr. Palmer do. 
 
 *' Backgammon ! " exclaimed her mother, with an 
 expression of sovereign contempt ; *' had you not bet- 
 ter have asked for a cribbage-board while you were 
 about it ? " 
 
 Seven o'clock came ; all the girls, excepting poor 
 Isabella, were assembled in the drawing-room, and it 
 would have been difficult to find a prettier coup d'oeil, 
 or one arranged with a better eye to effect. Lady
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 91 
 
 Anne was in the arm-chair, and Louisa was seated a 
 little behind her ; Mary was opposite, and a seat most 
 conveniently vacant beside her; while the two younger 
 girls were placed on a low ottoman in the middle. A 
 rap at the door made them all start — Isabella after- 
 wards confessed that she had peeped through the back 
 parlour door as he went upstairs — and Mr. Glentworth 
 made his appearance. He took all the young ladies 
 completely by surprise — if he had turned five and 
 thirty he did not look it ; and Uncle Frank, instead 
 of an odd-looking individual in a brown coat and wig, 
 was a tall and handsome man, pale, and with a shade 
 of melancholy, which only gave interest to his fine 
 features. 
 
 Lady Anne could not but allow that, if years had 
 passed lightly over herself, they had passed still more 
 lightly over him, to say nothing of his being some few 
 years younger. He was altered from the shy, silent 
 young man who used to spend morning after morning 
 with Mr. Granard in the library, to Lady Anne's 
 equal displeasure and surprise — for a young cavalier 
 would often have been an addition to her parties, and 
 it was to her incomprehensible what amusement could 
 be found in books or in her husband's society. The 
 alteration was, however, one of improvement : his 
 manner had the ease of one accustomed to make his 
 own way in every kind of society, and his air was sin- 
 gularly distingtie. Lady Anne's first idea was regret 
 that she had wasted any care upon Mary's appear-
 
 92 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ance, who was looking, if possible, worse than usual. 
 *' Such a man, and such a fortune,'" thought her lady- 
 ship, " may marry whom he pleases ;" and, contrary 
 to her original plan, she determined that Louisa and 
 Georgiana should sit next him at dinner. 
 
 Certainly the idea of falling in love with those whom 
 he had never thought of but as children never crossed 
 Mr. Glentworth, as he at once said, laughing, and 
 averred that he was taken quite by surprise to find him- 
 self among so many lovely young women ; but he 
 greeted them with that easy affection which showed 
 he intended to retain his footing as an old friend of the 
 family, and was the first to go back upon his old ap- 
 pellation of Uncle Frank. " But here are only four," 
 said he ; *' where is the fifth ?'* 
 
 " Isabella does not dine with us, except when we 
 take our early dinner alone," replied Lady Anne. 
 
 *' I had hoped to have seen all my young friends 
 together ;" but Mr. Glentworth was interrupted by 
 the announcement of dinner, where Lady Anne, by 
 two or three quiet manoeuvres, contrived to make her 
 daughters understand that the arrangements which 
 she had so carefully impressed upon their minds, were 
 to be broken. Mr. Glentworth took the foot of the 
 table, and Louisa and Georgiana sat on either side. 
 The dinner went off very well, though there was a de- 
 gree of restraint. With all the graceful ease of Lady 
 Anne's manners, they never encouraged any spontane- 
 ous flow of feeling or of thought — you felt intuitively
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 93 
 
 that feeling or thought would be de trop. Between 
 the hostess and the guest there was an old animosity. 
 Young as he was at the time, he had seen the impru- 
 dence of Mr. Granard's way of living ; he had often 
 remonstrated, and the death of his father, with the 
 subsequent derangement of his affairs, had alone pre- 
 vented his following up his advice with such assist- 
 ance as would have made it effectual. 
 
 Lady Anne smothered her dislike, because there 
 was a hope of his marrying one of her daughters ; and 
 he subdued his because he could not allow it to inter- 
 fere with his hope of serving the orphans of his old 
 friend. The very dinner increased his anxiety — he 
 saw that it was infinitely beyond Lady Anne's means ; 
 the same course of extravagance was therefore still 
 being renewed, with the same disregard of conse- 
 quences. The girls themselves interested him on 
 their own account, not only for the nameless charm of 
 youth and loveliness, but there was something natural 
 and sweet about them, which he could hardly have 
 believed possible in Lady Anne's daughters. 
 
 Still the conversation languished ; Lady Anne was 
 most unnecessarily anxious to impress upon Mr. 
 Glentworth the success that they had met with in 
 society, and that, if no longer rich, they were still the 
 fashion. The girls were always restrained in their 
 mother's presence ; unconsciously they had learned 
 that any display of feeling only excited her scorn, and 
 they had acquired a habit of silence, because they had
 
 94 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 so little in common to talk about. However, when 
 dinner was over, Mr. Glentworth pleaded his conti- 
 nental habits, and accompanied them at once to the 
 drawing-room ; and there his first inquiry was after 
 Isabella. 
 
 " Oh," replied Lady Anne, '* she is too young to 
 be introduced.'' 
 
 *' Surely not to such an old friend as myself; pray 
 let me ask to see her." said their guest. 
 
 " The next time," exclaimed her mother ; " Isa- 
 bella, not expecting a summons, will only be in the 
 schoolroom toilette." 
 
 '' My dear madam," cried Mr. Glentworth, " I 
 wish to see herself, not her frock. I am sure my 
 young friend here will go and fetch her sister without 
 further delay." 
 
 Georgiana sprang up eagerly, and. Lady Anne 
 having given an ungracious permission, bounded 
 down stairs, and found that Isabella had just finished 
 making the tea. 
 
 " You must come upstairs at once," exclaimed 
 Georgiana, *' Mr. Glentworth insists upon seeing you ; 
 you will like him so much ; oh, I do wish you had 
 any thing on but that old brown merino." 
 
 " I do not think it matters much," said Isabella, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Why Mr. Glentworth did say," returned her sis- 
 ter, '' that it was you he wanted to see, not your 
 frock."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 95 
 
 " In that case, the sooner he sees me the better ; " 
 and both sisters ran up stairs, duly composing them- 
 selves into a slow and graceful entrance before they 
 ventured to appear before their mother. Mr. Glent- 
 worth was surprised to see the tall and elegant girl 
 who was summoned from the schoolroom, and, in spite 
 of the old brown merino dress, Isabella never looked 
 prettier. The careless banding back of the hair only 
 showed the fine shape of the head 5 pleasure at being 
 remembered lighted up her clear dark eyes ; and a 
 little touch of natural shyness made her colour most 
 becomingly when introduced. 
 
 The evening passed off very gaily, for music broke 
 up the formality of the circle, while the books and 
 drawings scattered about led to some conversation, in 
 which Mr. Glen t worth talked of the various parts of 
 Europe he had visited ; Lady Anne secretly wondering 
 what could take any one anywhere but to the capitals, 
 while the girls were dehghted to hear of rocks and 
 valleys, and were only divided in favour between the 
 Appenines and the Pyrennees. When he rose to take 
 leave. Lady Anne expressed her hope, couched in the 
 most flattering terms, that they should soon see him 
 again. 
 
 " May I then," said Mr. Glentworth, " place my- 
 self at once on the footing of Vamie de la maison, and 
 come in and out just as I please ? I am the worst 
 person in the world for formal dinners, but I shall be 
 thankful to have a resting-place whereon to^bestow 
 my tediousness in an evening."
 
 96 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 This was the very thing which Lady Anne wished, 
 and a most gracious permission ensued. 
 
 " It is a great misfortune," said her ladyship, with 
 a deep sigh, as the door closed after their visitor, " to 
 have so many daughters — a man hardly knows which 
 he likes best among them ; still I do not despair — it" 
 is a great point to have secured his constant visits.*"
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 '' Why, you are all in ecstacies about him," said 
 Mrs. Palmer, the next morning. 
 
 " So elegant !" said Louisa. 
 
 " So interesting !" said Helen. 
 
 " So handsome !'' said Georgiana. 
 
 " So kind !" said Isabella. 
 . " Well, it is a clear case," continued Mrs. Palmer, 
 '' that one of you he must have.** 
 
 " Not me," exclaimed Louisa, and then coloured 
 deeply. Mrs. Palmer looked at her for a moment; 
 this was not the first time she had suspected that her 
 young friend had no longer a heart to give. 
 
 " Oh, mamma," cried Georgiana, *' intended him 
 for Mary ; but now that he turns out so young and 
 good-looking, she seems to think him too good for 
 her." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said Mrs. Palmer, '' I wish I had 
 her in the country, she should have a basin of new 
 milk, fresh from the cow, every morning. A young 
 friend of mine, who looked just as she does, was quite 
 cured by it." 
 
 The efficacy of even new milk may be doubted to 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " minister to a mind diseased," still less can it '' pluck 
 from the memory a rooted sorrow/' Mary's health 
 and spirits had given way under the constant pressure 
 of one bitter remembrance — she felt herself a burthen 
 upon her mother, and in the way of her sisters ; the 
 very affection showed to her by the latter only made 
 her think with deeper regret on what she might have 
 done for them if things had gone differently. Then 
 she was continually hearing of Lady AUerton's extra- 
 vagance, and Lady Allerton's dissipation ; and her 
 conjugal quarrels were topics of common conversation. 
 Mary could not avoid the thought, and the pang of 
 " how much happier I could have made him !" Then 
 she had so little to take her out of herself; her mother 
 more and more discouraged her going out, and, in- 
 deed, she had neither strength nor spirits for the fa- 
 tiguing gaiety of a London season. 
 
 '' Not yet five and twenty, and she is a complete 
 wreck," continued Mrs. Palmer; " yet I cannot but 
 think that she would be much happier if she were well 
 married. It is much more comfortable to have a house 
 of one's own. I wish Mr. Glent worth may take a fancy 
 to her." 
 
 " I do not think," said Isabella, seriously, *' that 
 Mary would marry any one, neither does Mr. Glent- 
 worth seem a marrying man." 
 
 '« And pray," said Mrs. Palmer, half laughing, 
 *' what is your idea of a marrying man ?" 
 
 " Why," replied Isabella, " most of the marriages
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 99 
 
 that I have heard of have originated in some motive 
 that lay very near the surface. Some men are despe- 
 rately in love ; but more often it is that the table 
 wants a lady at the head of it ; or a man is poor, and 
 marries for money ; or he is rich, and wants con- 
 nexion ; or very often he marries because his friends 
 have decided the matter for him, and it is less trouble 
 to make the offer than to avoid making it. Now none 
 of these- first causes appear to influence Mr. Glent- 
 worth/' 
 
 *' Perhaps," said Georgiana, "he has had an un- 
 happy attachment ?" 
 
 ^' Or, perhaps," said Louisa, " he has been too poor 
 to marry. He may have been engaged, and, after wait- 
 ing for years, is now able to fulfil his engagement." 
 
 *' An engaged man/' replied Isabella, '' would not 
 have been so anxious to seek us out, and would not be 
 so anxious to secure our house as a refuge for his lei- 
 sure hours." 
 
 '' Well, my dears," said Mrs. Palmer, '' we shall see ; 
 and, what is of most importance to you is, I think, 
 from all I can hear, you will find in Mr. Glentworth 
 a sure and kind friend ; and that is what we all of us 
 want some time or other." 
 
 In a few days, Mr. Glentworth became almost do- 
 mesticated in tlie house, an arrangement partly plea- 
 sing and partly otherwise to Lady Anne. She liked 
 the air of intimacy with a man so rich ; his acquaint- 
 ance was no expense, and he still retained his old habit 
 
 f2
 
 100 LADY ANNE GRANABD. 
 
 of making handsome presents. Nevertheless, she was 
 disappointed in the little progress of her matrimonial 
 schemes; there was no preference for one daughter 
 more than another ; he was equally kind and affection- 
 ate to all. One morning his visit terminated in a most 
 satisfactory manner ; he gave each of the elder girls a 
 sealed paper, which, when opened, was found to con- 
 tain a hundred pounds. To them it seemed the riches 
 of the world, and each was expressly enjoined to spend 
 it on what she liked best. Only those who have often 
 wanted money — wanted it painfully and mortify ingly 
 — who have constantly been debarred gratifications 
 common to those among whom they live — only those 
 can tell the delight of suddenly possessing a large 
 sum of money, to do just what they please with. How 
 many enjoyments of taste, fancy, and kind feeling were 
 comprised in the possession ! Even Mary was quite 
 animated. 
 
 '* We will," exclaimed she, a faint colour warming 
 her cheek at the very idea, *' have an excursion into 
 the country— really the country. Fancy, if it be but 
 for a week, having a cottage, into whose garden we 
 can walk unobserved, and gather the roses ourselves. 
 What delicious strolls of a summer evening in the fields, 
 where the hay has just been cut ; and through green 
 ianeSj covered with wild honeysuckle!" Louisa was 
 silent ; but there was a smile round her dimpled mouth, 
 which betrayed how pleasant was the reverie in which 
 she indulged,
 
 LADY ANNE GHANARD. lOl 
 
 ** We will now," cried Helen, " have a new liarp — • 
 we can play from morning till night in your cottage, 
 Mary.'' 
 
 '^ And I/^ said Georgiana, '* will have a white satin 
 dress." 
 
 " The only sensible thing I have heard said yet," 
 interrupted Lady x\nne — then addressing herself to 
 Helen and Georgiana, added, " You know that you are 
 to be presented next season, and this money will just 
 buy court-dresses, and hire your ornaments. I am 
 sure, if you had gone without, I could not have paid 
 for them.'" Helen sat in silent disappointment ; but 
 Georgiana's fancy was at once busy with ostrich fea- 
 thers, lace, and white silk ; and her interest soon com* 
 municated itself to Helen. What girl of nineteen could 
 listen unmoved to the question of in what dress she 
 should be presented ! 
 
 Isabella was seated alone in the dining-room. Lady 
 Anne and Louisa were gone out for a drive with Lady 
 Penrhyn ; and Helen and Georgiana accompanied 
 Mary in her attempt at a walk in the gardens of Port- 
 man Square. Mr. Glentworth was therefore shown 
 in to the young lady, who was busily employed at work, 
 *' Ah !" said he, on entering, " you are the very person 
 I wanted ; I am come to make my amende for leaving 
 you out the other evening — I had not forgotten you." 
 
 " Ah !" said Isabella, " you thought I was too young 
 to know the value of money — that I should throw it 
 away on coral necklaces and piping bulfinches."
 
 102 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Mr. Glentworth smiled, and, half taking a red mo- 
 rocco case out of his pocket, said, " I thought that I 
 could give you what you would like better." 
 
 " Nothing," interrupted Isabella, eagerly, who had 
 not noticed his movement — "nothing that I should like 
 half so well." 
 
 "My dear child,**' said he, seriously, even sadly, 
 " you seem to set an undue value on money for one so 
 young ; what can you care for money, except for the 
 sake of trifles which, believe me, are of no real value !" 
 
 " It is not for the sake of all that Howell and James 
 have in their shop, or Storr and Mortimer besides, that 
 I care for money. I know its value only too well. 
 Money has been the curse of our lives ; it is the want 
 of money that keeps poor Mary like a ghost. Had 
 she been rich, she would have escaped that early dis- 
 appointment, which fell upon her like a blight, and 
 from which she has had no change to distract her 
 thoughts ; she is country-bred, and she pines like a 
 caged bird in London. It is want of money that keeps 
 Louisa wasting her best days in fruitless hopes, that 
 will leave her with a step as sad, and a cheek as pale, 
 as that of her elder sister. It is want of money that 
 will fall over Helen and Georgiana like a curse : they 
 will go into society only to repress every warm and 
 kindly feeling — to dread the approach of affection, un- 
 less it takes what is called an ehgible shape. Their 
 future fate hangs on a chance ; if it goes against them, 
 they will be blamed for the failure ; but I really have
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. lOS 
 
 not courage to fancy mamma with all her daughters 
 unmarried/' 
 
 " Lady Anne is very anxious, then^ for your esta- 
 blishment ?" said her listener. 
 
 "I can remember nothing else/' replied Isabella, 
 " ever held forth in the future, but a good match. It 
 may be wrong for a girl like myself to tall: so freely : 
 but who can help reflecting on what passes every day 
 before her eyes ?" 
 
 " It is not many, though, who do reflect," thought 
 Mr. Glentworth, while Isabella went on. 
 
 " There are very few happy marriages ; indifference 
 on the part of the husband, and dislike on that of the 
 wife, appear to me the general feeling. Yet there are 
 some exceptions; and these led me to think, why should 
 they be happier than their fellows ? I always found 
 the cause the same — they married from different mo- 
 tives. There was affection and respect for each other 
 to begin with. But let a coronet, properly accompa- 
 nied, be offered to any of my sisters, mamma would not 
 hear of a refusal. Neither character, temper, and 
 taste, still less attachment, would be taken into consi- 
 deration ; and, yet, without them how can there be 
 happiness in married life ! Georgiana's sweet nature 
 will be perverted ; all that is vain and frivolous in her 
 will be brought out ; she will constantly be disap- 
 pointed in the vain endeavour to make pleasure a subr 
 stitute for content, and, craving for excitement. Vain 
 and heartless, the world will leave us little trace of
 
 104 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 the lovely mind as of the lovely face. For Helen there 
 is a yet darker doom ; her imagination exaggerates 
 every suffering ; her keen feelings cannot lie dormant 
 — she needs to love and be loved ; amusement never 
 can be to her the sole business of life — she requires to 
 be interested. What can a future, where love is not, 
 offer to her ?" She paused, for her eyes had filled 
 with tears, and, to conceal them, she stooped over her 
 work. 
 
 ** You do iiot,"" said Mr. Glentworth, aften a brief 
 pause, " speak of your elder sisters, or of yourself." 
 
 " Alas V replied Isabella, " you must have perceived 
 that Mary is heart and spirit-broken ; and Louisa is 
 in a fair way of being the same : ' hope deferred maketh 
 the heart sick.' As to myself, as mamma often says, 
 I am not pretty ; 1 have not, therefore, the same bril- 
 liant chances of marriage that my sisters have." 
 
 Mr. Glentworth was for a moment silent with sur- 
 prise at the air of entire conviction with which this was 
 said ; the next, he could not help looking at the girl 
 who so quietly avowed that she was not pretty. He 
 did not think it necessary, however, to state that his 
 own opinion was different, so he went on with the con- 
 versation. 
 
 "You ])refer, then, having the money to the orna- 
 ments which I had intended for you ?*' 
 
 '* Oh ! the hundred pounds, certainly,*' exclaimed 
 Isabella, colouring a little at the idea of trespassing on 
 the donor's generosity.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 105 
 
 " You shall have it, then,^ said Mr. Glentworth. 
 
 '^ But/' cried Isabella, eagerly, " it must be on con* 
 ditions, and you may not like them." 
 
 *'Let me hear what they are/' replied her companion. 
 
 ** First, that you will not tell mamma that you have 
 given it ; and, secondly, that you will not ask me what 
 I have done with it.'*' 
 
 Mr. Glentworth took out his pocket-book, and placed 
 a hundred pound note in Isabella's hands. ** It is a 
 sum," said he, seriously, " that, properly employed, 
 would be a source of happiness to many. I give it you 
 without the least fear that it is misplaced. We have 
 quite talked the morning away/' added he, without 
 allowing her time for the thanks which she was trying 
 to put into shape. " I must leave my message with 
 you. You must tell your sisters that I have a box at 
 the theatre for to-morrow night, and that it is large 
 enough for us all.''' He left Isabella breathless with 
 delight. As far as the selfish pleasure went, the box 
 at the theatre was even greater enjoyment than the 
 possession of the hundred pound note. 
 
 F 5
 
 106 LADY ANNE GRaNARD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Louisa Granard was seated in her own room, writing 
 what the size of the paper implied was a small note — 
 not so, if it was to be judged by the length of time 
 which the note took writing. Yet the employment 
 seemed a pleasant one ; her cheek was flushed with a 
 clear, rich crimson — her face 
 
 " Was like any fair lake that the mori)ing is on. 
 When it breaks into dimples, and laughs in the suu." 
 
 And if, ever and anon, the brow was clouded by a shade 
 of pensiveness, it was quickly dispelled by the con- 
 sciousness of present happiness. A letter was open 
 beside her, to whose contents it seemed necessary often 
 to refer ; but, when once taken up to read, it was not 
 easily laid down again ; and the fair student seemed to 
 dwell on every word, and find out a new meaning each 
 time. The fact was, Louisa Granard was answering a 
 love-letter. Few there are whose hearts have not beat 
 with delicious quickness at sight of a handwriting 
 dearer than aught else in the world besides. 
 
 The first love-letter is an epoch in love"'s happy sea- 
 son — it makes assurance doubly sure— that which has 
 hitherto, perhaps, only found utterance in sweet and
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 107 
 
 hurried words, now seems to take a more tangible ex- 
 istence. A love-letter is a proof of how dearly, even 
 in absence, you are remembered. I once heard a young 
 friend regret her approaching marriage, because she 
 would then receive no more charming notes. Alas ! 
 the charming notes are not the only charming things 
 that are no more. But a love-letter ! — how much of 
 life's most perfect happiness do those two words con- 
 tain ! With what anxiety it is expected ! — with what 
 delight it is received ! — it seems almost too great a 
 pleasure to open it. Suddenly we mock ourselves for 
 the charmed delay — the seal is hastily broken — the 
 contents eagerly devoured ; then it is read slowly, dwel- 
 ling on every sentence to lengthen out its enjoyment : 
 how sweet does every little word of endearment appear 1 
 — what importance is attached to the choice of an epi- 
 thet, to the turn of a phrase ! Through the whole day, 
 with what a conscious thrill its possession is recalled ! — 
 with what care it is read over at night, till its contents 
 mingle with our dreams ! I often wonder, when I see 
 people settled down in that cold calmness, too often the 
 atmosphere around the domestic hearth, whether they 
 ever recall the words they used to say, and the letters 
 thoy used to wTite ! Would those letters appear ab- 
 surd and exaggerated, or w^ould they for a moment 
 bring back the old feeling, or, at all events, a tender 
 regret for its departure ? 
 
 Louisa was, however, at the first and happiest time ; 
 her engagement was of that most harassing kind, where,
 
 108 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 too poor to marry, lovers are obliged to trust the future 
 with all those hopes which the present denies ; still, 
 the consciousness of loving and being beloved was sa- 
 tisfaction enough. They were young enough both to 
 wait, and to look forward with all the confidence in 
 fate and each other that youth, and youth only, can 
 feel. Oh ! it takes many disappointments, both in 
 faith and fortune, before the human heart, naturally 
 so buoyant and so confiding, learns to despond and to 
 distrust. Charles Penrhyn, for he was the object of 
 Louisa's preference, had expectations — that term, so 
 vague when those expectations depend upon others. 
 When Lord, then Mr. Penrhyn, married a distant re- 
 lative of his own, pretty and portionless, he expressly 
 protested against any hopes that her family might form. 
 Still, w^hen one tiying off after another left only the 
 youngest an orphan, it became a needful sacrifice to 
 public opinion to do something for a relative who peo- 
 ple in general would consider as having a claim upon 
 him. A situation was therefore found for Charles in 
 the Foreign Office— immediate provision was thus se- 
 cured, and there was some talk of pushing him forward 
 in the diplomatic line. But Lord Penrhyn, being able 
 to talk uf what he had done for his brother-in-law, 
 was in no hurry to do more ; besides, he soon found 
 that Charles was exceedingly useful in looking over 
 his accounts, letters, &c. — he was a private secretary 
 in all but the salary — while the young man was de- 
 lighted at the opportunity of proving his gratitude j
 
 LADY ANNE GRAI^ARD. 109 
 
 besides, there is a, moral pride about useful occupation. 
 But there is sometimes a danger in being too useful ^ 
 and Charles Penrhyn had found that his very services 
 precluded their reward ; he was too valuable to Lord 
 Penrhyn to be spared to a wider and more profitable 
 sphere of action. Still he hoped that in time his 
 services would give him a claim ; and, till he met 
 Louisa Gr^nard, he was careless when the time might 
 actually come. 
 
 But a serious and earnest attachment brought with 
 it serious and earnest thoughts. He began to picture 
 to himself a very different life to that which he had 
 hitherto led— a life of active duties, whose reward had 
 reference to another. The novelty of society was over, 
 and, with it, much of its attraction ; and he thought 
 that, instead of perpetual operas, concerts, and balls, 
 many pleasant evenings might be passed in a quiet 
 home, with one rational and affectionate companion. 
 On his present income it would be insanity to marry ^ 
 but, let him once obtain a moderate independence, with 
 the prospect of increase, and he knew that both Louisa 
 and himself would be content to make many sacrifices, 
 or what would be called such, in their circle. He felt 
 that he had a right to claim further assistance from 
 Lord Penrhyn ; and his letter to Louisa announced his 
 intention of doing so that very day. Louisa read and 
 re-read the precious pages, and had just finished a few 
 lines, or rather what had originally been intended to 
 be a few lines, of encouragement and affection. Tliese
 
 110 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 few lines, however, had extended to the second sheet 
 of paper. Oh ! if it be delightful to receive a letter, 
 it is as delinfhtful to answer it. At first there is the 
 timidity which trembles to express what yet it is so 
 sweet to acknowledge — gradually the words fall, for 
 the heart is too full for silence, and it is easier to write 
 than to speak ; one gentle assurance Strengthens the 
 other, and the close of the letter is always more tender 
 than the beginning. 
 
 Louisa had just sealed her note, and was indulging 
 herself in a last glance at that of her lover's, when a 
 light tap was heard at the door. To hide the letter, 
 blush deeply, and say '' come in," were the work of a 
 moment ; but the rosy colour was yet warm when 
 Isabella entered. " Do not mind me,'' said Isabella, 
 smiUng. " 1 shall not tell any body that you are 
 writing to Charles Penrhyn." 
 
 Louisa stood, the image of confusion, and it was 
 some minutes before she recovered breath to say — 
 " However did you find out my secret .?" 
 
 " Not so difficult as you may imagine, my dear sis- 
 ter," replied the other ; " it is my nature to observe. 
 If I had not seen the note Charles Penrhyn placed for 
 you the other morning, mamma would have had it 
 instead of yourself." 
 
 " I fear I am very wrong," whispered Louisa. 
 
 *' I do not think so," replied I>abella. " If we 
 were treated with only half the kindness that Mrs. 
 Palmer shows to her husband's children, such an af-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. Ill 
 
 fection would be to me a sacred bond against even an 
 approach to deception. Ah ! Louisa, dear, 1 often 
 think how happy, how very happy, must those chil- 
 dren be who possess the confidence and love of their 
 parents ! I feel as if there were no hardships that 
 would not be light under such circumstances — how 
 much happier we are for loving each other ! But you 
 know as well as I do, that what I am saying would 
 appear nonsense to mamma. She looks upon us as so 
 much merchandise, to be disposed of to the best bidder. 
 Marriage is with her only a certain position in society. 
 She never thinks whether it would make us happier or 
 better. I certainly wish that you had become attached 
 to some one in more independant circumstances than 
 Mr. Penrhyn ; but I do believe that sincere affection 
 will sweeten every difficulty." 
 
 " Lord Penrhyn can and ought to do something for 
 his brother-in-law," said Louisa, *' and Charles is to 
 speak to him this very evening.*'"' 
 
 " I am glad of it," replied Isabella ; '' whenever 
 any thing disagreeable has to be done, the sooner it is 
 done the better. Difficulties are always exaggerated 
 by dwelling upon them." 
 
 The two sisters now entered into a long and confi- 
 dential conversation, most delight fid to Louisa, who 
 had a natural and girlish pleasure in dwelHng upon 
 the merits of her lover, which seemed more than con- 
 firmed by Isabella's approval. The restraint she had 
 imposed upon the expression of her feelings was doubly 
 painful to one of her timid and candid temper.
 
 11^ LADY ANiSE GRANARt)- 
 
 " You cannot think what a punishment it has been 
 for my fault," said she j '' the reserve I have thought 
 myself obliged to maintain — how many of your kind 
 words have seemed to me so many reproaches. I was 
 keeping a secret from those who kept none from me. 
 But I was acting without mainma''s sanction, and did 
 not like to implicate my sisters/'* 
 
 " You were right," replied Isabella, " and I should 
 not have surprised your confidence, had I not had 
 something I wished to say. I know what you mean 
 to do with Mr. Glentworth's gift — a marriage would 
 scarcely be one without wedding-dresses — he has been 
 equally generous to me, and you must keep the money 
 till it is wanted^ which, I hope, will be soon." So 
 saying, affectionately kissing her, she vanished, with- 
 out giving Louisa time for either objections or thanks. 
 
 Every age has its characteristic, and our present 
 one is not behind its predecessors in that respect ; it 
 is the age of systems, every system enforced by a 
 treatise. The politician who opposes the corn-laws 
 and advocates free trade, does so on a system, which, 
 as soon as it begins to work, will set the civilized world 
 to rights. The phrenologist, who regulates heart and 
 mind by undulations of the skull, has another system. 
 The professor of animal magnetism, who throws house- 
 maids into a deep sleep, when they talk Latin without 
 knowing it, has a third. While ]\Irs. Geary, who makes 
 stays the realization of the ancient girdle of the Graces, 
 does so on a " system wliich has the approval of the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 113 
 
 highest medical authorities."" One system, however, 
 still requires its organization and its treatise;- — we 
 allude to the sublime, yet delicate, the universal, yet 
 domestic science of managing a husband. The science 
 has its practice, but it lacks its theory. Theory follows 
 the practice which it improves. Aristotle found his 
 examples of poetry in Homer and Eschylus ; and Ude's 
 dishes had made the felicity of dinners, before either 
 reduced their divine art to received and written rules. 
 Conjugal government requires its treatises. A young 
 woman setting out in life lacks a printed guide. Her 
 cookery-book, however, may afford some useful hints 
 till one be actually directed to the important subject 
 just mentioned. Many well-known receipts are equally 
 available for a batterie de cuisine or du cceur. Your 
 roasted husband is subdued by the fire of fierce words 
 and fiercer looks — your broiled husband, under the 
 pepper and salt of taunt and innuendo — your stewed 
 husband, under the constant application of petty vex- 
 ations — your boiled husband dissolves under the watery 
 influences — while your confectionized husband goes 
 through a course of the blanc mange of flattery, or the 
 preserves and sweets of caresses and smiles. 
 
 " So you are quite decided on not purchasing those 
 lovely inlaid tables ?'' said Lady Penrhyn, as she step- 
 ped into her carriage, accompanied by her husband. 
 
 " Quite,'' rephed Lord Penrhyn ; " our drawing- 
 rooms are already so crowded that it is much as one's 
 neck is worth to walk across them.'*
 
 114 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Lady Penrhyn made no reply, and soon afterwards 
 asked " What o'clock is it ?" in the most indifferent 
 tone of voice in the world. 
 
 *' We shall get home in time to dress for dinner," 
 was her husband's not very direct reply, though it in- 
 dicated the tone of his thoughts. Lord Penrhyn never 
 could bear to wait for his dinner. It was ready to be 
 served the instant of their arrival ; yet, rapid as were 
 the proceedings of the well-trained cook and butler, 
 Lady Penrhyn was equally rapid with her toilette ; 
 neither soup nor fish grew cool from her delay. It 
 was really quite pleasant to see a w^ife so attentive to 
 her husband as was Lady Penrhyn, during the pro- 
 gress of the repast. 
 
 '" I cannot allow you to try yonder temptation," 
 said she, removing, with a pretty assumption of au- 
 thority, a dish which she knew he disliked ; " but I 
 must recommend these fillets to your left — they are 
 perfect." 
 
 Little conversation took place during dinner — the 
 process was too important to be interrupted by frivo- 
 lous discourse — but, as the dessert came in, her lady- 
 ship began to narrate, and very amusingly, one or two 
 anecdotes of the day. Gradually, as his lordship ap- 
 proached the pleasant repose of his third glass of port, 
 her voice ceased ; he looked up to discover the cause 
 of her unusual silence, and found that his wife's face 
 was buried in the depths of a cambric pocket-handker- 
 chief. She was crying. Lord Penrhyn had the cha-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 115 
 
 racter to support of an excellent husband ; it was un- 
 pleasant to be disturbed in the first approaches of that 
 sleep so conducive to digestion ; but he could not see 
 his wife in tears, without an inquiry as to their cause. 
 She abandoned to him her passive hand, but it was 
 some time before her grief found words. 
 
 " Ah ! Penrhyn/' at last she exclaimed, in the 
 sweetest of reproachful whispers, " what have I done 
 to lose your love ?" Her most innocent feeling stood 
 aghast. " I remember the time,'** continued the weep- 
 ing lady, " when the least wish of mine was sufficient." 
 
 " 1 am sure," exclaimed her bewildered auditor, " I 
 do everything I can to please you." 
 
 *' Yet," resumed his wife, " how harshly you re- 
 fused me those tables to-day !" 
 
 "Is that all?" said Lord Penrhyn. 
 
 "All !" said her ladyship, her grief taking a slight 
 tone of resentment ; " is it not enough for me to find 
 that YOU no longer care for any wish of mine .?" 
 
 " My dearest Julia," exclaimed the relieved hus- 
 band, " you shall have the tables." 
 
 " I do not care for them ; I would not have them 
 now," cried Lady Penrhyn ; " it is only your affection 
 I care for. Do not suppose, for a moment, that I wish 
 for the tables when you do not : oh, no ! my only con- 
 cern was for your indifference. But I am content if 
 you tell me I was mistaken." 
 
 *' Mistaken indeed, my dear love," returned his 
 lordship, " if you thought me indifferent. You shall 
 have the tables to-morrow."
 
 1 16 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 •' No, no,''' cried she, "■ I was very foolish ; all I 
 cared about in the matter was your feeling towards 
 myself" A kiss of reconciliation settled the matter, 
 and Lord Penrhyn again composed himself in his most 
 composing arm-chair. 
 
 '^ What an expensive thing marriage is !" was his 
 latest reflection— A^o^fl Bene. The tables were sent 
 in next morning ; at first objected to, but afterwards 
 submitted to remain in compliance with, and as a 
 mark of submission to, her husband's will. 
 
 It was fated, however, that Lord Penrhyn was to 
 court " Tired nature's (and temperfe) , sweet restorer, 
 balmy sleep," in vain that night; for before he re- 
 laxed himself into repose from his contemplation of 
 the expence that marriage had brought on his de- 
 voted head and purse, a loud rap came to the door, 
 and Charles Penrhyn entered into the dinner- room. 
 He had some business about which he wished to speak 
 to his young relative, and on that account he roused 
 himself up ; business which, with an Englishman, is 
 predominant over even rest and digestion. 
 
 *' And now,"" said Charles, the discussion being at 
 an end, " will you let me speak a little on my own 
 business ?" 
 
 " Your business!*" exclaimed Lord Penrhyn ; ** what 
 possible business can you have .'*" 
 
 ** Why, not much at present," returned the other; 
 " and that is the very cause of my speaking. I wish 
 to have more. The fact is, I want something to do.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 117 
 
 I feel every day, more and more, that I am wasting 
 my time, and whatever abihty I may chance to possess." 
 
 *' Do you find the last mentioned commodity get 
 much in your way?" asked Lord Penrhyn, with a 
 civil sneer. 
 
 The young man swallowed down his annoyance, and 
 continued, '' I am now eight-and-twenty, and it seems 
 to me time that I should think a little of the future ; 
 what chance have I otherwise of looking forward to a 
 home, or to independence?" 
 
 '' A home ! interrupted his hearer ; '^ why this house 
 is as good as a home to you ; you are always sure of 
 a dinner here." 
 
 "A dinner, sir," persisted Charles, " does not, in 
 my idea, quite constitute a home." 
 
 *' And, pray, what does constitute your idea of a 
 home ?" 
 
 '' Its duties and its ties," replied the other ; '* a 
 fireside made cheerful by afFection." 
 
 " By these neatly-turned phrases," exclaimed his 
 lordship, " I conclude that your idea of a home in- 
 cludes that of a wife." 
 
 *< It certainly does," replied his young relative. 
 
 *' Charles," said Lord Penrhyn, solemnly, '' I Iiave, 
 on more than one occasion, had reason to think you a 
 sensible young man ; either I was mistaken, or you 
 are suddenly gone mad." 
 
 " Did you think yourself mad?'' asked Mr. Pen- 
 rhyn, " when, you married my sister ?" His lordship 
 looked as if half tempted to confess that he held such
 
 118 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 to have been the case ; apparently, he considered that 
 such an avowal would be misplaced to his dear Julia's 
 brother ; and he contented himself with observing, 
 " I was in very different circumstances. I could 
 afford the expense of a wife, and the expense is enor- 
 mous. Why Julia's diamond necklace alone, that she 
 wore at the last drawing-room, cost two thousand 
 guineas." 
 
 '' 1 should marry a woman," replied Julia's brother, 
 " who would be satisfied without any diamonds at all." 
 
 " And where," asked his lordship, " do you expect 
 to find such a phoenix ? Have you found some piece of 
 rural simplicity, whom you have persuaded that no- 
 thing is so becoming as a few wild flowers placed care- 
 lessly in the hair ? Both she and you will soon find 
 out the difference. Believe me, all women are alike.'* 
 
 '* I cannot agree with you," eagerly interrupted 
 the lover." 
 
 " I did not expect you to agree with me ; no single 
 man ever agrees with a married man on such a sub- 
 ject. Hope and experience take two different sides 
 of an argument. Marriage is the greatest act of folly 
 that a man can commit ; he ought at least to put it 
 off as long as possible." 
 
 " Delays are dangerous/' said Charles ; " I may 
 perhaps never get married at all." 
 
 " And no harm if you never do," replied his bro- 
 ther-in-law ; " greater misfortunes may befall you than 
 that. No, no ! I set myself against this sudden whim
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 119 
 
 of marrying. What is a wife but a pretended stum- 
 bling-block in the man''s path, who has his way to 
 make in the world ?'^ 
 
 " I should rather say," exclaimed Charles, " a wife 
 would be a perpetual stimulus to exertion and to per- 
 severance/' 
 
 " The expenses of married life," said Lord Penrhyn, 
 rather thinking his own thoughts aloud than answer- 
 ing, " are awful. I have often thought that women 
 were superfluities in creation. There is, of course," 
 added he, suddenly recollecting himself, *' an excep- 
 tion in favour of your dear sister." 
 
 Charles knew his brother-in-law well enough to 
 see that any attempt to enlist Lord Penrhyn's kind- 
 ness on his side was in vain ; he therefore decided to 
 try another plan, and the most direct appeared also 
 the best. " Your opinion of the ill consequences of 
 matrimony," said he, " have put out of my head what 
 I called this evening about. Leaving my future wife 
 till I find her, let me think of my actually existing 
 self. I hear that the place of secretary of legation 
 
 will soon be vacant at the court of ; will you use 
 
 your interest to get me appointed ?''"' 
 
 "1 heard of this before," said his lordship, every 
 feature growing more harsh than usual with denial, 
 " but Sir Charles Neville is trying to procure it for 
 his third son." 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Penrhyn, " he is utterly unfit 
 for such a situation ; Robert is but one remove from a 
 fool."
 
 ISO LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " I do not mean to say that he will obtain it, but I 
 cannot use any influence to counteract Sir Charles's 
 interest ; for he is in the committee of our railroad 
 bill, now passing the house ; and were I to oppose 
 him, he would inevitably vote against me.'* To this 
 equitable arrangement Charles could give no answer, 
 and with a heavy heart he followed his companion to 
 the drawing-room : apparently, however. Lord Pen- 
 rhyn could not satisfactorily dismiss the subject from 
 his mind, for while stirring his second cup of coffee 
 he said, 
 
 *' Do you know, Julia, that Charles has taken some 
 wild-goose fancy into his head about marrying?" 
 
 *' Why, what heiress have you picked up?" asked 
 his sister. "I am sure that I am very glad of it, though 
 I cannot form a guess who it is. I never knew a 
 season so unprofitable in that respect as the present." 
 
 " An heiress, Charles !" cried Lord Penrhyn ; " that 
 alters my view of the whole matter ; why could you 
 not tell me?*' 
 
 " I could not," replied Charles, '' tell you what did 
 not exist. J only spoke of the matter generally,*' 
 added he, very little desirous that his sister should form 
 a guess of how matters stood ; it would inevitably lead 
 to his losing his chief opportunity of improving his 
 situation. 
 
 " A great heiress is certainly a temptation," con- 
 tinued his sister. 
 
 " I tell you, there is no heiress in the case," in-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 121 
 
 terrupted Charles. " I only said to Lord Penrhyn, 
 that at my age a man begins to think of his future, 
 and of settling in life." 
 
 " Settling in folly !" cried Lady Penrhyn. " I hate 
 to hear young men talk of marrying ; they are lost to 
 all intents and purposes. Half the pleasant houses 
 open to you while single, would be shut when you are 
 double. Who do you think would care to waltz or to 
 sing with you if you were once married?" 
 
 " I am glad to find, my dear," said Lord Penrhyn, 
 '' how completely we always agree." Charles saw 
 the fruitlessness of saying more on the subject. From 
 his sister he could hope for no sympathy, and from her 
 husband no help." 
 
 " So," muttered he, bitterly, as he sought his 
 lodgings, " I must not think of affection and inde- 
 pendence, because my sister holds that no one would 
 care to flirt with me if I were married, and because 
 my brother-in-law will not risk losing a vote on a 
 question which only involves a few hundreds that he 
 would not miss if he threw them to-morrow into the 
 fire. I wish that I had only a small portion of his 
 wealth. I think, I hope, that I should make a better 
 use of it." So we all tliink till the time comes, and 
 then, whether wealth bring the curse of selfishness 
 along with it, or that the leaven was in our nature, 
 only dormant till called forth by circumstances, we 
 are only too apt to misuse it, even as others have done 
 before us. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the satisfaction of the Misses 
 Granard in such an acquisition as Mr. Glentworth 
 proved to their circle. Pleasures they had hitherto 
 only known by name, they now shared in common 
 with the other young people. The exhibitions were a 
 source of delight inexhaustible ; and the drive in 
 the open carriage, which had at first been offered to 
 Mary as the invalid, had, without neglecting her, been 
 gradually extended to all her sisters. Mrs. Palmer, to 
 whom the girls had made a little fete of introducing 
 their new acquaintance, was delighted with him. She 
 felt, with the quick sympathy of a generous nature, 
 that her young friends had gained a valuable and 
 steady friend. 
 
 " Poor things ! they needed it/*" said she one night 
 to her husband, during the discussion of some scal- 
 loped oysters, over which their mutual confidences 
 usually took place. 
 
 " Mr. Glentworth is rather young and handsome," 
 replied Mr. Palmer, " to be the intimate friend of so 
 many pretty girls. My daughter Charlotte said to 
 me this very morning that she only hoped good might
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 123 
 
 come of it. I wish he would make up his mind, and 
 marry one of them." 
 
 '' I wish he would," answered Mrs. Palmer ; *^ it 
 would be a blessing to all the sisters if one of them 
 were well married. But the idea of marrying I do 
 not think has ever entered his head. He does not 
 appear to me to have a preference ; he looks upon 
 them as children, and if thev were his own he could 
 not be kinder to them." 
 
 *' I have not," continued Mr. Palmer, '^ told you 
 all Mrs. Gooch observed. * I am sure/ said she, 
 ' that Isabella is in love with him ; she blushes when- 
 ever his name is mentioned ; and the other evening I 
 saw she started whenever he spoke to her ; and you 
 know how ready she is to talk in general ; she is shy 
 and timid while speaking to him.' Now Charlotte 
 said this, and there is not much that she lets pass 
 her." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer remained silent : her first impulse was 
 to exclaim, *' What nonsense !**' her next was to think 
 that the remark had more truth for its foundation than 
 she liked to acknowledge even to herself. She, too, 
 remembered, now that her attention was drawn to the 
 matter, divers very suspicious blushes and starts, and 
 together with this came the even strengthened convic- 
 tion of Mr. Glentwort^s indifference. " Poor thing !" 
 said she, unconsciously aloud, " she is a kind, good — ." 
 
 " And pretty girl," interrupted her Imsband. *' I 
 
 g3
 
 124 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 would take an even bet on her chance of catching the 
 nabob."* 
 
 Mr. Glentworth had never quitted Europe, and his 
 wealth was either good English landed property, or 
 equally undeniable English consols ; still he was a 
 stranger, very rich, and suddenly come from abroad. 
 Such a man was necessarily a nabob in Mr. Palmer's 
 eyes. India had been the place for making large 
 fortunes in his young days. Mrs. Palmer, though 
 her wishes went along with his prediction, could not 
 believe it, with a full, entire, and comfortable belief, 
 so she took refuge in a general phrase, *' Well, I 
 shall hope for the best." Still her satisfaction in the 
 Granards having acquired such a valuable friend was 
 greatly qualified, it would be dearly purchased if the 
 price of happiness. 
 
 There was, also, another person who was any 
 thing but content at the way in which things were 
 going on, and that was Lady Anne Granard. Days, 
 weeks, had glided by since the memorable dinner- 
 party, and Mr. Glentworth had not only not made 
 any of her daughters an offer, but seemed to have no 
 intention of ever making one. True, he added 
 largely to the enjoyments of the girls ; but that was 
 a point on which she was perfectly indifferent. True, 
 he was in the habit of making them magnificent pre- 
 sents, but the shapes which they took were very un- 
 acceptable to her ladyship — books, music, drawings, 
 were trash in her eyes ; a new dress, or a pretty or-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 125 
 
 nametit would have appeared to her the more ra- 
 tional exercise of his liberality. Had he been older, 
 she might have calculated on his death and its at- 
 tendant legacies ; that was, however, out of the ques- 
 tion : she could not look forward to the death of one 
 some years younger than herself. From thinking 
 him useless. Lady Anne soon began to consider him 
 detrimental ; his constant attendance kept off others. 
 On this point her penetration was assisted by a 
 sneer or two of Lady Penrhyn's, who, struck with 
 Mr. Glentworth's appearance, had accepted the invi- 
 tation to join a family party to Richmond, only to 
 find attention devoted to those Granard girls, as she 
 called them. Like all married women, who make 
 flirtation the sole business of life, she had a natural 
 antipathy to the young, pretty, and unmarried. 
 While she affected to despise the simplicity and 
 want of finish in the perhaps blushing and embar- 
 rassed girl, she was, in reality, the rival that she 
 most dreaded. A deep and sincere attachment was 
 the first thing that taught a man to set a just value 
 on the flutter of gratified vanity, in which her power 
 consisted. Besides, she envied her the bloom and 
 freshness, which she had lost for ever — the bloom and 
 freshness of the heart, even more than the cheek. 
 Intimate as she was with Lady Anne, she would not 
 but see how little the Misses Granard had of the or- 
 dinary pleasures of their age — but it never entered 
 into her head to add to them — had one of their sweet
 
 126 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 faces been seen in her box at the opera, it might have 
 attracted that attention she was feverishly covetous 
 of engrossing. 
 
 Time and prosperity had hardened Lady Pen- 
 rhyn's into an intensely selfish nature — it had never 
 been softened by affection, or purified by sorrow — 
 her course of worldly prosperity had been unbroken, 
 and she had neither the experience of suffering, nor 
 the native sympathy of a kindly temper, which makes 
 us enter into the feelings of others. She spoke of 
 misfortunes as if they had been faults ; and poverty, 
 sickness, or disappointment, appeared to her quite 
 inexcusable. She could not endure that five unin- 
 formed girls should engross so handsome and so dis- 
 tinguished looking a man as Mr. Glentworth, though 
 she had quite penetration enough to perceive that 
 his kindness was that of a parent, and equally ex- 
 tended to all. Still, it was not to be borne, and she 
 well knew from what quiver to select her arrow. 
 
 " Pray," said she, during her next morning visit 
 in Welbeck Street, ** when, and on which of your 
 daughter's marriage with Mr. Glentworth, am I to 
 congratulate you? What a fortunate connexion !" 
 
 Lady Anne, with wliom long knowledge of the 
 world often supplied the place of sense, was too 
 guarded to admit her disappointment, and calmly 
 replied, '* Mr. Glentworth is only a very old friend 
 of the family.'* 
 
 ''Not so very old," said Lady Penrhyn, with a
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 127 
 
 malicious smile ; ' ' I should rather say much too 
 young to be trusted with so many girls — you will 
 have them all in love with him." 
 
 *' I trust, '* answered Lady Anne, with a quiet air 
 of security, '' that my girls have been too well 
 brought up to think of such nonsense as falling in 
 love." 
 
 *' At all events," said her companion, and this 
 time she sent the shaft to the mark, " they will have 
 the credit of being so, and consider how very much 
 such a report will be in the way of their settling. A 
 dangler like Mr. Glentworth, who means nothing, 
 keeps off those who would be more desirable." 
 
 Her ladyship soon afterwards took her leave, but 
 not with her departed the doubts and fears she had 
 left in Lady Anne's mind, and who should meet Lady 
 Penrhyn on the stairs, but Mr. Glentworth. " Not 
 for the world," exclaimed she, declining his offered 
 escort to the carriage ) " \ will not keep you one mo- 
 ment from your nest of sucking doves. To which of 
 them do you mean at last to throw the handkerchief?" 
 and, humming the air of " Colin sait-il choiser,'' 
 she left him without time to reply. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, he found Lady 
 Anne alone. Never very cordial in her manner, to- 
 day it was even frozen. He inquired after the young 
 ladies, and received the information that they were 
 walking. Conversation here stopped from indiffer- 
 ence on the part of Mr. Glentworth, and preoccupa-
 
 128 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 tion on that of Lady Anne, who was secretly planning 
 a very desperate measure — nothing less than that 
 of hinting to the old friend of the family that his 
 visits ought in future to be '* like those of angels, 
 few and far between." This was more easily re- 
 solved than effected, not that Lady Anne had any 
 tender misgivings, prompted by the recollection of 
 much kindness, but Mr. Glentworth was too rich to 
 be affronted lightly — an offer was not hopeless — and 
 presents floated in the foreground, while legacies 
 dimly filled the perspective in the distance. More- 
 over, she was afraid of him : the strong mind and 
 the decided temper exercised their usual control over 
 the weak and the irritable. A mother with a touch 
 of sentiment might have talked with great effect of 
 young and susceptible feehngs, and have wound up 
 with maternal anxiety for the happiness of her 
 daughters. This was a view of the case that never 
 occurred to Lady Anne — the heart was with her 
 wholly, hors de combat — she only looked to the esta- 
 blishment, and the more she considered the matter, 
 the more grave she considered the danger the said 
 establishments were incurring. 
 
 Making a strong effort, she said at last, "Mr. 
 Glentworth, I have for some time been wishing to 
 speak to you." Of course her companion became at 
 once attentive, and she, gaining courage at the sound 
 of her own voice, went on. " You must be aware of 
 what great importance it is to me to see my girls 
 settled in life. Mr. Granard's imprudence ."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. l!^9 
 
 Mr. Glentworth felt inclined to interrupt her with 
 "your ladyship's, do you not mean?" but he re- 
 frained, and she proceeded. 
 
 '' Mr. Granard's imprudence having left his chil- 
 dren completely unprovided for, their marriage is 
 of the utmost consequence. Will you pardon me for 
 observing that your acquaintance, otherwise so fortu- 
 nate, and so agreeable, will, I fear, be an obstacle to 
 my natural expectations on that point." 
 
 Mr. Glentworth looked what he was, amazed, and 
 Lady Anne went on. 
 
 *' You are not a marrying man," this was said 
 with some still lurking hope that it might bring from 
 him a declaration completely the reverse of her own, 
 but it was heard in acquiescing silence. " Now every 
 body," continued Lady Anne, *' is not aware of this 
 fact, and your being so constantly seen with my girls 
 leads to the supposition that you must be attracted 
 by one or other of them. I am constantly being 
 asked which of the Misses Granard is to be Mrs. 
 Glentwwth?" 
 
 " Gossiping nonsense," exclaimed the gentleman ; 
 '' why can you not at once say that I am one of their 
 father's oldest friends, and that I am anxious to 
 show his children some portion of the kindness which 
 he showed me." 
 
 " People are not easily." replied Lady Anne, 
 '^ persuaded to believe what is improbable." 
 
 g5
 
 130 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " Improbable !" exclaimed Mr. Glentworth ; " what 
 is there improbable in affection and gratitude ?" 
 
 " I really," returned the other with a sneer, 
 '' cannot agree about probabilities or improbabilities, 
 but I know what the generality will think when they 
 see a gentleman constantly with five very pretty girls, 
 and I also know what they will say." 
 
 " It is amazing to me," said Mr. Glentworth, " that 
 your acquaintances should give themselves so much 
 trouble to settle those affairs in which they precisely 
 have the least concern." 
 
 " Suppose, as you have nothing better to do," cried 
 Lady Anne, who was getting angry that the conver- 
 sation held out no prospect of what she would have 
 considered a satisfactory termination, '' you set about 
 reforming society altogether ; but, till you succeed, 
 you excuse me for not setting its opinions at defiance ; 
 and, I must say, that as you do not mean to marry one 
 of the girls yourself, it is very hard that you should 
 stand in the way of those who might." 
 
 " I am, therefore," said Mr. Glentworth, rising from 
 his seat, ** to consider it your wish that our acquaint- 
 ance should terminate ?'*'* 
 
 " By no means," exclaimed Lady Anne, who began 
 to be a little alarmed at what she had done, and who 
 saw presents and legacies in the act of disappearing 
 for ever. " I am sure that we have all the most sin- 
 cere regard for you, and are deliglited to see you ; but 
 we must have some little regard for the opinions of 
 the world."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 131 
 
 *' And, in compliance/* said Mr. Glentworth, " with 
 that opinion, you wish to decUne my acquaintance ?'* 
 
 " No such thing, my dear sir," replied her ladyship, 
 in the blandest of tones : ** I only refer to your ow^n 
 excellent judgment as to the propriety of making your 
 attentions in public less marked, and your visits less 
 frequent." 
 
 " Good, morning, Lady Anne," said Mr. Glentworth, 
 as he turned to the door ; ** do, pray, tell the world 
 that I am too insignificant a person for its notice ; 
 and, above all, do assure yourself that I shall try as 
 much as possible to avoid its notice." Lady Anne 
 rose up with a host of pretensions on her lips, but Mr. 
 Glentworth was gone. " Les ondits sont le gazette 
 des foux^' thought he, as he descended the staircase. 
 The saying is true enough ; still, it admits of a ques- 
 tion whether such a gazette can be altogether disre- 
 garded, for ^' lesfoux'"' have, at all events, the majority 
 on their side. 
 
 The sight of Mrs. Palmer at her window induced 
 Mr. Glentworth to try if a visit to the kind-hearted 
 old lady would not be a safety-valve for his present 
 mood of irritation ; besides, it would be pleasant to 
 have some one agree with him in cordial dislike to 
 Lady Anne's system of small yet selfish manoeuvres. 
 Nothing could be more old-fashioned, yet nothing 
 could seem more cheerful than Mrs. Palmer's draw- 
 ing-room. The furniture was the same when she 
 married, and belonged to the spider- school. The legs
 
 1S2 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 of the tables were so thin, it was a marvel how they 
 supported them ; the chairs were high-backed and 
 upright, and as hard as stuffing could make them ; 
 the sofas were ditto ; while the tables, supported by 
 the spiral legs, were of shapes wholly vanished from 
 the modern upholsterer. There was a card, a sofa, and 
 one oval -shaped table, with a drawer, and leaves that 
 let up and down ; all bearing that high polish, which 
 made it the boast of the old-fashioned school that you 
 could make the mahogany serve as a mirror. It 
 would have made half a human existence, the hours 
 of rubbing bestowed by footmen and housemaid on 
 those shining surfaces. 
 
 The salmon-coloured walls were covered with di- 
 vers specimens of feminine ingenuity — samplers, whose 
 subjects it was a puzzle to guess ; but the '' Fanny," 
 " Mary," and '' EHzabeths" worked at the bottom, 
 were distinct enough . I never was more struck with the 
 disrepute into which these laborious trifles had fallen, 
 than by one day finding an old and valued friend un- 
 picking the one, on which the temple of Solomon had 
 been worked in many colours, for a knife-cloth. It 
 was a farewell to the last graceful vanity of youth. 
 Beside these samplers hung divers fruit - pieces 
 worked in worsted and flower pieces worked in floss- 
 silk ; also two or three drawings. All these had 
 belonged to Claver House ; they had been worked 
 by the young ladies, and many a briglit young face 
 did thev recall. There was also a round mirror, with
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 133 
 
 candles and glass-drops on either side, and a chained 
 bird trying to fly away on the top — no marvel, then, 
 he attempted to fly from the image reflected in the 
 glass, which gave you your face with the same like- 
 ness as does a silver spoon. Our grandfathers cer- 
 tainly hung these said mirrors as correctives, not in- 
 centives, to vanity. There were also two paintings 
 in oil, half-length likenesses of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer : 
 both were seated, he with part of a table on his side, 
 on which stood a decanter, a liquor-stand, and half a 
 dish of oranges ; while his lady had a similar table, 
 but decorated with the exact likeness of her best set 
 of china tea-things. This was a perpetual grievance 
 to Mrs. Gooch, and, indeed, to the other daughters : 
 if, as they observed, papa had had a book in his hand, 
 and mamma had a basket of flowers, there could have 
 been no objection. But Mr. Palmer had always been 
 accustomed to his owm way ; and he would have it in 
 this instance. He chose that these pictures should 
 represent his wife and himself, at what was their time 
 of greatest enjoyment. 
 
 The only representatives of to-day, were two large 
 and comfortable arm-chairs, and a few elegant-look- 
 ing trifles, the work of the Misses Granard. Still 
 there was a cheerful appearance ; a capital fire burnt 
 in the bright grate ; there were some stands of thriving 
 plants in the windows ; and some canaries and Java 
 sparrows chirped as if they were quite content to be 
 '' hereditary bondsmen."
 
 134 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer was seated knitting — that comfortable 
 sort of work, which requires so little attention, and so 
 little eyesight. Nothing could be more placid or more 
 benevolent than her countenance — she was a very 
 pretty old woman — and the close, white lace-cap, the 
 dark silk gown, and the mittens, a style of costume 
 she had worn for the last twenty years, seemed as if 
 it had been invented expressly for her. She received 
 Mr. Glentworth with even more than her usual kind- 
 ness. There is nothing of which women are so sus- 
 ceptible as attention ; it is but a slight tribute, yet it 
 is one paramount to secure the heart's allegiance. 
 Now Mrs. Palmer felt that Mr. Glentworth's call was 
 an attention — and such they had hitherto been ; but, 
 to-day, it must be confessed, that he called more with 
 reference to himself. Their conversation soon turned, 
 as it always did, on " those dear girls." All the fe- 
 minine romance — all the warm affection that Mrs. 
 Palmer possessed, turned to her interesting neigh- 
 bours. Her own daughters-in-law (she never used, 
 nor even thought of, the epithet ''in-law") were so 
 comfortably married, lived so exactly from one year's 
 end to another the same sort of life ; it was impos- 
 sible to feel any anxiety about them. But the love- 
 liness, the refinement, and the uncertain position of 
 the young Granards interested at once her fears and 
 her hopes, and both she and Mr Glentworth felt that 
 they had one point in common when they talked over 
 their youthful friends. Tt was not long before the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 135 
 
 gentleman gave a full account of his interview with 
 Lady Anne ; but it struck him that, while Mrs. Pal- 
 mer quite agreed with him respecting the heartless 
 selfishness which dictated such a view of the question, 
 the view itself did not seem to her as so exceedingly 
 absurd ; she hesitated, and seemed embarrassed, in- 
 stead of giving the cordial assent to his finishing ques- 
 tion of '' Now, did you ever hear of any thing more 
 ridiculous, than the supposition of a love affair be- 
 tween myself and those children?" 
 
 " You cannot call them children," said Mrs. Pal- 
 mer, at last. 
 
 " They are such to me," returned Mr. Glentworth. 
 
 " You may think so," replied the old lady. 
 
 " And what on earth business," exclaimed he, " is 
 it to any one else ? I am rich, and independent, and 
 have not a tie or relative in the world. Who can ob- 
 ject to my considering the family of my oldest friend 
 as my own?" 
 
 '' I am not thinking," said Mrs. Palmer, '' of peo- 
 ple in general ; I am thinking of the girls themselves." 
 
 " Then you will agree with me," interrupted Mr. 
 Glentworth, '' in seeing the advantages that are de- 
 rived from having a friend like myself. I procure 
 for them many pleasures, from which they have hi- 
 therto been excluded. I induce them, by a judicious 
 choice of books, to turn their attention to subjects hi- 
 therto neglected, for their education has been worth- 
 less."
 
 136 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 "Not quite," said Mrs. Palmer; ''they have had 
 the education of privation, self-denial, and of doing 
 the best under the circumstances in which they have 
 been placed,'* 
 
 " Well, certainly,'* replied their friend, " the result 
 has been most fortunate, for I never met such very 
 sweet girls. But they are now arrived at an age when 
 the character of themselves and their future is in the 
 balance. What chance has it in the hands of the 
 weak, the selfish, and the w^orldly Lady Anne ? now 
 their happiness is safe in mine." 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that?" asked Mrs. Palmer. 
 
 "Quite sure, it would indeed be presumption to 
 say," answered he ; "but 1 have it in my power to 
 smoothe many worldly difficulties, and I could not be 
 more anxious about their happiness, were I really 
 their father." 
 
 " I believe you," said Mrs. Palmer, earnestly. 
 
 " A little ridiculous gossip, of which," continued he, 
 "a little time must show the fallacy, ought not to be 
 weiglied against the advantages of my sincere and 
 disinterested affection. I will be their true friend and 
 guide. 
 
 " You are too young and too liandsome for any- 
 such office," interrupted Mrs. Palmer, who had for 
 some time been nerving herself to the expression of 
 her opinion ; " and now, Mr. Gleiitworth, will you 
 allow an old woman to offer you her judgment ; mis- 
 taken it may be, but it is offered in all sincerity, and 
 from great affection."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 137 
 
 *' 1 know no one/' replied her companion, " whose 
 opinion I should be more ready to take than your own/' 
 
 '* Has the danger," said Mrs. Palmer, " never re- 
 curred to you, that your kindness might be requited 
 too tenderly ; in short, for I must speak plainly, that 
 one or other of the girls would be sure to fall in love 
 with you ?" Mr. Glentworth could safely protest that 
 such an idea had never crossed his mind. '' What 
 else could you expect?" returned the old lady. 
 
 " You do not mean to say that such is the case?" 
 exclaimed he^ looking aghast at the supposition. 
 
 *' I will say as little as I can upon the subject," re- 
 plied Mrs. Palmer, " but I again repeat that you are 
 too young and too good-looking to be friend and 
 guide to such very lovely girls.*" 
 
 " I thank you for your kindness," said Mr. Glent- 
 worth, taking the old lady's hand to bid her good-by. 
 *' You may be right, and we will talk the subject over 
 again ; but now I am unfit for more conversation." 
 
 He wandered through the streets, anxious, con- 
 fused, and equally discontented with himself and his 
 morning's conversation. He was roused from his 
 reverie by a sweet voice exclaiming — 
 
 " No, Mr. Glentworth, you shall not run over us ;" 
 he looked up and saw the two youngest Misses Gra- 
 nard — it was Georgiana who spoke, but he could not 
 help seeing that Isabella's face was kindling with de- 
 light, though she addressed him more shyly than her 
 sister. The day before he would have walked with
 
 138 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 them to their own door ; to-day he past on hurriedly, 
 saying something about pressing business. He glanced 
 round, after he had passed, with a mingled feeling of 
 regret and affection ; but Isabella was looking back 
 with an expression of sorrow and anxiety — a painful 
 contrast to the radiant smile which had so recently 
 lighted up her face — she caught his eye, and rapidly 
 turned her head, but he saw that she blushed the 
 deepest crimson.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 . Mr. Glentworth passed a very disagreeable fort- 
 night before he called in Welbeck Street. Though, 
 as both Lady Anne and Mrs, Palmer would impress 
 upon his mind, he was " young and good-looking," 
 he was past the age when the gay spirits find amuse- 
 ment in any thing. He missed the cheerful and yet 
 rational evenings in Welbeck Street, when his mind 
 felt its own powers, while striving to call forth those 
 of others. He found the theatre dull, now he could 
 no longer see the amusement which it gave reflected 
 in the young faces by which he had lately been sur- 
 rounded. He missed, too, more than all, the feeling 
 that he was adding to the happiness of others. He 
 caught himself wishing, a dozen times a day, that the 
 Misses Granard had really been his daughters, or, at 
 all events, his sisters. At length, he thought a suffi- 
 cient lapse of time had gone by to make his visit suit 
 even Lady Anne's idea of les bienseances ; and, as to 
 Mrs. Palmer's suggestion, it must be owned he thought 
 of it as little as he could ; and, when he did, it was to 
 think that the best course was to mark, by his kind- 
 ness to each, that there was no individual preference.
 
 140 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " Lady Anne is at home, but the young ladies are 
 out, walking," was the answer of the page ; but, in 
 the drawing-room, he found Isabella alone. Languid 
 and dispirited, she had declined accompanying her sis- 
 ters, and was employed in copying a drawing. It was 
 a sketch of Mr. Glentworth's, and he had been de- 
 scribing the scene, the last evening that he spent in 
 Welbeck Street. He caught sight of her face — it was 
 unusually pale, and there was a glitter on the long, 
 dark lash, and a dimness in the eye, as if tears had been 
 recently shed. Not such was the countenance that 
 turned and met his own. The dark eyes filled with 
 hght, a rich colour mantled the cheek, and smiles sur- 
 rounded the lip, whose welcome was at first inaudible. 
 
 " How we have missed you !" exclaimed she. " Do 
 you know that we have left the book you were reading 
 to us in the middle — we could not bear to go on in 
 your absence." She did not add that this was her own 
 suggestion. 
 
 " I have been much engaged," replied Mr. Glent- 
 worth. 
 
 " I hope your engagements are over now,"" said she ; 
 " we have grown so accustomed to you, that we can- 
 not get on without you." 
 
 " I fear/' said he, hesitatingly, ^' I shall soon be 
 obliged to go abroad." He was startled to see the 
 effect of his own words in Isabella's ashy paleness — 
 she could not force a reply. But there is a timidity 
 in genuine feeling, which brings with it an intuitive
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 141 
 
 desire of concealment ; and she was soon able to add, 
 " You have been so kind to us all." At this moment 
 Mr. Glentworth's eye fell on a little pencilled sketch of 
 himself. In her joy at seeing the original, Isabella had 
 forgotten the copy. Again a bright scarlet passed over 
 her face ; and her companion, from that necessity of 
 saying something which originates more subjects of 
 conversation than any thing else, observed, " I did not 
 know you had a talent for taking likenesses."' 
 
 *' I never tried before," said Isabella, hesitatingly, 
 
 " You ought to cultivate it," continued Mr. Glent- 
 worth. *' Would you like to take some lessons?" 
 
 " No," replied his companion ; and then hastily 
 added, *' I should have no interest, unless the face 
 were one I knew." 
 
 Here, for the first time, the conversation languished. 
 Isabella felt embarrassed, though she did not even sur- 
 mise a cause, and Mr. Glentworth was thoughtful. 
 
 " Do you know," said she, after a long pause, " I 
 fear I am ungrateful ; for I feel quite sorry that we 
 have known you. What shall we do when you go 
 away ? — At least," added she, in a subdued tone, " we 
 shall never forget your kindness." But the effort at 
 forced composure was too much for the young and 
 unpractised girl — her voice became inaudible, and she 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " My going is still uncertain," said Mr. Glentworth, 
 trying to soothe her with the utmost kindness. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed she, " how much happier we
 
 142 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 have been since you camc^-how much we owe to your 
 kindness ! I had no idea that Hfe could be so pleasant 
 till we knew you ;" and again poor Isabella's voice 
 failed. 
 
 Mr. Glentworth rose, and took one or two turns up 
 and down the room ; suddenly he caught Isabella's 
 eyes fixed upon him with such a look of wretchedness 
 that his heart smote him. He thought on the lonely 
 and unprotected state of such singularly lovely girls — 
 he could not be blind to what Isabella's feeling was to 
 himself, so unconsciously, so innocently betrayed — he 
 felt that he was not only their sole friend, but that he 
 possessed the power to make that friendship available 
 in many ways, while he was scarcely able to do so in 
 their peculiar situation. A sudden impulse led to an 
 equally sudden resolution — he took a seat by Isabella's 
 side, and took her little, cold, trembling hand in his 
 own. 
 
 " My dear girl," said he, very kindly, " I have a 
 great deal to say to you. Will you listen to me, pa- 
 tiently ?" 
 
 Isabella's eyes, even more than her words, assured 
 him that her patience would be little tried while listen- 
 ing to him. " Are you aware," asked he, '' of why I 
 have not been to see you during the last fortnight?** 
 His companion looked astonished. " The fact is," 
 continued he, " Lady Anne fears that my visits here 
 may prove detrimental to what she considers your 
 best interests. I thought myself an old, safe friend ;
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 143 
 
 but, as that cannot be explained to every body, she 
 fears that I may keep off other and more elig^ible 
 lovers." Isabella tried to speak, but the words died 
 in utterance. " In short, whether I shall be obliged 
 to give up visiting altogether depends upon yourself. 
 As the husband of one of you, no exception could be 
 taken. Tell me, truly, my dear, do you think that I 
 could make you happy as my wife?" Isabella's eyes, 
 that had hitherto been fixed on Mr. Glentworth's, 
 half-wonder, half-regret, were now cast down — again 
 a sweet colour mantled her cheek. 
 
 " Happy !" murmured a voice so low as to be almost 
 inaudible — " Do you not make every one near you 
 happy?" Could consent be given more graciously or 
 more gracefully? — Mr. Glentworth felt that he had 
 sealed his fate ; he was dizzy, confused, and s-ought 
 in vain to speak. Mechanically he retained the hand 
 that trembled in his own — but Isabella needed no 
 protestations — one word from his mouth had been 
 enough, and she sat in silent " measureless content." 
 She was yet too happy to wonder at her own good 
 fortune. 
 
 '' Isabella," exclaimed he, starting up, '* I will 
 write to you this evening ; I cannot speak all I could 
 wish ; read my letter carefully ; think before you de- 
 cide. I shall send for the answer in the morning. 
 God bless you !" Isabella held her breath to hear his 
 last step ; she sprang to the window, and watclied 
 long after he was out of sight j she then hurried into
 
 144 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 their little back parlour ; she was too intensely happy 
 to wish for any thing but solitude ; she felt as if she 
 feared to wake from so delightful a dream. 
 
 Isabella loved Francis wuth the freshness of a sweet 
 and ( hilil-like love, but also with a steadiness belonging 
 to her character rather than to her years ; she had de- 
 lighted in his presence, she had been wretched in his 
 absence ; but it had never occurred to her that she w^as 
 in love with him, still less did she think of him with 
 reference to herself. It would have appeared to her 
 far more probable, that if he were to prefer any, it 
 would have been one of her sisters. I have heard it 
 said that the gentleman's declaration should always 
 precede the lady's attachment. This supposes a greater 
 degree of vanity and of calculation than really do 
 form part of feminine affection. A girl's love is half 
 poetry, an unconscious preference till startled into 
 self-knowledge. Isabella had been grateful for Mr. 
 Glentworth's kindness — struck with his cultivated 
 mind, and impressed with his distinguished appear- 
 ance ; so were all her sisters ; but she alone was timid 
 in expressing that admiration ; in her alone had they 
 inspired that feeling, which, shy, vague, and tender, is 
 love. Pretty, and of a prettiness likely to improve for 
 many years to come ; lady-like, unusually clever, with 
 a sweet temper, a warm, kind heart, wholly devoted 
 to himself — not seventeen, IMr. Glontworth was fully 
 justified in thinking himself the happiest of men. 
 Whether he so considered himself or not, the following
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 145 
 
 letter may serve to show. Lady Anne was chaperon- 
 ing three of the girls to a juvenile ball. Mary was 
 never in any one's way, so that there was no restraint 
 on Isabella's joy when she received Mr. Glentworth*s 
 letter. If ever this world contained a perfectly happy 
 human being, it was Isabella Granard when she broke 
 the seal, and began to read her long and closely- 
 written epistle : — 
 
 ^' My very dear Isabella (for such you will always 
 be to me, whatever may be your decision after reading 
 the following pages,) 
 
 " Since I left Welbeck Street to-day, I have most 
 seriously considered our mutual position. For both 
 our sakes, I must be as explicit as possible ; and if I 
 write more coldly than it may seem to you I ought, 
 remember I write wath the fear of your future before 
 me. Though thoughtful far beyond your years, you 
 are very inexperienced ; and I would not have a pre- 
 ference that may originate in your little knowledge of 
 others, or a romantic exaggeration of slight kind- 
 nesses, lead you into a precipitate union with me, un- 
 less you most seriously examine your own heart, and 
 weigh the various consequences. I am double your 
 own age, my habits formed, my spirits saddened, and 
 the life I would choose one of quiet and seclusion. I 
 have loved before passionately, entirely, as none ever 
 love twice. Hitherto that attachment, though hope- 
 less, has kept me from forming other ties ; it might 
 have done so, even unto the end, but for my late inti- 
 
 VOI.. I, H
 
 146 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 macy with your family — I must add, and with you. 
 I feel that my home is lonely, uncheered by affection. 
 I desire to have some one to love and to care for. I 
 think I could make one even young as you are happy. 
 I should watch over, and seek to screen your path even 
 from the shadow of a sorrow. Knowing your affec- 
 tionate temper, I feel that it would add to your hap- 
 piness, having a home to offer any of your family. I 
 think also that you would be happy in making me 
 so. Sometimes I picture to myself a cheerful future, 
 whose sunshine I shall owe to yourself, and then again 
 I am discouraged, 
 
 "Do not decide hastily, consult any friend you 
 please, think over your tastes and fancies, be even un- 
 reasonable in conjuring up objections, think of your- 
 self while you decide. You will ever have an anxious 
 and indulgent friend in 
 
 '* Your truly affectionate 
 
 " Francis Glentworth." 
 The letter dropp ed on the floor as Isabel raised her 
 pale and bewildered face from its perusal. *' He does 
 not love me ; he marries me out of pity to us all ;'* 
 and her head dropped upon her arm, while the large 
 tears dropped slowly through her clasped hands. ** I 
 must write," exclaimed she, " and tell him how grate- 
 ful I am, but that he need not think of marrying me." 
 She drew the paper towards her, but, instead of wri- 
 ting, she began to read his letter again. A shade of 
 indecision passed over her face, and she read it over
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 147 
 
 for the third time. '' I will go and ask Mrs. Palmer 
 what I ought to do ; but no," said she, " it is my own 
 heart that must counsel me in this matter," For some 
 time Isabella had sought to check her tears, but now 
 she gave free course to them ; they relieved, and the 
 mood which they softened soon became elevated ; tears 
 smoothe the way for prayers. 
 
 ** I may," said she, " be wrong; Heaven support 
 and direct me ! but my heart seems reassured. He 
 says that his heart is lonely, and that I shall have a 
 home for my sisters ; should 1 not think of him and 
 them rather than of myself?" Her cheek was pale as 
 the marble of a gravestone, and her hand cold and 
 trembling as she wrote the following answer : — 
 
 " You tell me 1 may consult a friend, and I will 
 consult my oldest and my kindest — yourself. Tell 
 me what to do, and, in order that you may advise, I 
 will tell you what my feelings are. I am very grate- 
 ful to you ; and you say most truly * that I should be 
 happy in making you so 5' but can I ? As you an- 
 swer that question to me, so do I answer to you. Ac^ 
 cept the prayers and blessings of 
 
 '' Your gratefully attached, 
 
 ** Isabella Geanard." 
 
 The note was duly sent for the next morning, and 
 an answer returned in less than half an hour. 
 
 " My dearest Isabel, you can make me very happy, 
 and to make you so will be my constant anxiety. I
 
 148 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 shall call in an hour and speak (may I not ?) to Lady 
 Anne Granard. 
 
 *' Ever your affectionate and grateful 
 
 ''Francis Glentworth." 
 Mr. Glentworth received his note while pacing up 
 and down the library, where he had passed a night, 
 given neither to study nor to sleep. He started when 
 he saw the address — broke the seal, while the blood 
 started from the firmly-compressed lip. He drew a 
 deep breath ; he was reassured by the shortness ; till 
 then he had not acknowledged, even to himself, how 
 much he dreaded an acceptance. He read it, and, 
 flinging himself into a chair, hid his face in his hands. 
 " It is too late to repent !" exclaimed he, and wrote 
 an answer. '^ Let me make her happy," muttered he, 
 *' and then it matters not.*' Francis Glentworth and 
 Isabel Granard were both generous, high-minded, and 
 disinterested ; they were about to marry with the best 
 intentions. Alas ! best intentions are not the best 
 things in the world to marry upon.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 At three o'clock there was no chance of Lady Anne 
 being visible soon, and Mr. Glentworth drove up to 
 the door in Welbeck Street. The girls, who were 
 assembled in the parlour, marvelled to hear him ask 
 for Lady Anne only, while Isabella trembled like a 
 leaf; fortunately she was seated a little apart ; she 
 had not said a syllable to her sisters ; her spirits were 
 too much oppresssd for confidence. Lady Anne was 
 not down, and they could hear Mr. Glentworth pacing 
 overhead with quick and irregular steps. 
 
 "Do you know, I think Mr. Glentworth," said 
 Georgiana, '* is going to make mamma an offer 5 this 
 is their second tete-a-tete ^ 
 
 " You do not think any such thing," replied Helen. 
 Lady Anne, at that moment, entered the drawing- 
 room 5 she felt rather glad to see Mr. Glentworth ; 
 not being aware of his visit the day before, she had 
 begun to fear that he really had taken it into his head 
 to retire, and then who could foresee what he would 
 do with his money ? 
 
 ** Our excellent friend Mr. Glentworth 1" exclaimed 
 she ; " why, what a stranger you have been ! you 
 cannot think how the girls have missed you."
 
 150 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 '* Surely, Lady Anne,"' replied he, '' you cannot 
 have forgotten our last conversation. 
 
 " ' Who speaks so well should never speak in vain.' 
 
 I have only obeyed your wishes." 
 
 '* Oh !^' cried her ladyship, '^ you quite mistook my 
 meaning. I was only anxious that, as you declared 
 you were not the lover of one of my girls, people, in 
 general, should not consider you as such ; you know 
 the world has no sympathy with romantic friendships ; 
 it does not understand them.'* 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mr. Glentworth, " the world 
 might not approve of a man of my age assuming the 
 character of lover to one of your young and pretty 
 daughters.'' 
 
 " Your age !" exclaimed Lady Anne ; *' what does 
 a lover's age matter? who thinks of a person's age 
 under such circumstances ?'"' 
 
 " The young ladies themselves might," returned he. 
 
 " Young ladies thinking !" cried Lady Anne ; " I 
 have no notion of any such nonsense." 
 
 "To come to the point, however," said Mr. Glent- 
 worth, abruptly, " my business this morning is to ask, 
 * have J your permission to address one of the Misses 
 Granard?'" Lady Anne was silent a moment from 
 sheer delight ; she had taken the right method after 
 all; what a triumph over Lady Penrhyn ! And so Mary 
 — for she instantly decided that it was her — would be 
 married at last! Her congratulations soon found words.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 151 
 
 *' My permission, indeed ! you have my warmest 
 approbation. J have not a single objection. Mary is 
 a lucky girl." 
 
 *' I am not/' replied the gentleman, *' speaking of 
 Miss Granard.*' 
 
 Lady Anne felt secretly disappointed ; however, 
 any daughter was better than none. " Louisa, or 
 Ellen you mean ?" 
 
 *' No," returned Mr. Glentworth. 
 
 "Not Georgiana?" interrupted Lady Anne^ — she 
 could not give up the idea of a coronet for the beauty 
 and the favourite. 
 
 '* No, no!" exclaimed her listener, who felt that 
 is was too ridiculous having the girls submitted one 
 after another to his choice, " I allude to Isabella." 
 
 '* Isabella!" ejaculated Lady Anne, in a tone of 
 blank amazement. That her youngest and neglected 
 daughter should be the object of preference had never 
 once occurred to her ; it was almost as good as Mary, 
 if she had been the choice. ** Isabella!" continued 
 she, joyfully — *' oh, yes, certainly ! she will be only 
 too happy. I will go and tell her this moment !" 
 
 "It is unnecessary," said Mr. Glentworth ; "1 
 have already obtained Isabella's consent." 
 
 Lady Anne thought that, he had given himself un- 
 necessary trouble ; however, he was too rich not to be 
 indulged in a few peculiarities. The conversation now 
 turned on business matters ; and even Lady Anne was 
 amazed at Mr. Glentworth's wealth and liberality.
 
 152 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 She had no idea that he was so rich, still less that he 
 would be so generous. 
 
 ''The girl has fetched a good price," said Lady 
 Penrhyn, with a bitter sneer, in answer to Lady Anne's 
 triumphant details of rent-rolls and settlements ; 
 '* those old men always do choose such young girls." 
 
 *' Old !" cried Lady Anne ; *' why, it was but the 
 other day that you said he was too young to be the 
 friend of my daughters !" 
 
 " A man is always too young for such sentimental 
 friendships," replied the other. " Isabella is not yet 
 seventeen. I will give her three years before she runs 
 away !" 
 
 All was now gaiety and bustle in Welbeck Street. 
 Mr. Glentworth was anxious to gratify even every 
 caprice of his betrothed ; and, if she had them not, 
 he invented them for her. For the first time. Lady 
 Anne felt almost fond of her daughter when she saw 
 her jewel-box. There is certainly a great deal of de- 
 lusion in marriage, as far as the lady is concerned : it 
 is not only the lover of which she suddenly becomes pos- 
 sessed, but of white satin, white silk, white lace, " rings, 
 bracelets, and carkanets," such as never crossed even 
 the visions of her girlhood. One would think that 
 her marriage was an individual advantage to all her 
 friends, so much interest do they appear to take in 
 the matter. It might seem that love and marriage 
 were more especially confined in their interest to the 
 happy two, and ** two only ;" no such thing, it is
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 153 
 
 diffused through the whole circle of their acquaint^ 
 ance ; and when the happy event has actually taken 
 place, the bride and bridegroom are, as if they had 
 not only never been seen before, but were especially 
 worthy of being seen, so pressing, so numerous are 
 the invitations heaped upon them. 
 
 After all, it says something for the kind-hearted- 
 ness of human nature, this readiness to sympathize ; 
 whether they are or are not, the young couple are 
 supposed to be happy : and it is an amiable feeling 
 that prompts the many to rejoice with them. It is 
 curious to observe that there are some delusions which 
 are for ever renewed ; experience shows, that ninety- 
 nine marriages lead to great wretchedness on either 
 side ; and yet, people go on with congratulations as 
 warm and as sincere as if there were common and con- 
 stant cause for the said congratulations. 
 
 No one was more rejoiced at the prospect of Isa- 
 bella's marriage than Mrs. Palmer ; she saw all the 
 advantages of the connexion, and she could not help 
 having a secret feeling of self-congratulation that she 
 had had some hand in bringing the matter about. 
 Mr. Glentw^orth had called expressly to communicate 
 his marriage. " I may," said he, " have done a fool- 
 ish thing in marrying such a mere girl, but I do it 
 with a firm belief, that it is her happiness I have 
 chiefly consulted." 
 
 *' Isabella is deeply attached to you," rephed Mrs, 
 Palmer ; " and she is not only a pretty, but a very 
 
 h5
 
 154 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 good girl, and naturally serious and thoughtful. You 
 dwell too much on your age ; a man at seven and 
 thirty is in the prime of life." 
 
 '' Still," returned he, " twenty years is a great dif- 
 ference ; however, I have done for the best, and such 
 1 hope it will turn out." ' 
 
 Mrs. Palmer had no misgivings about the matter ; 
 still, she could not but observe that Isabella was not 
 in her usual spirits ; and, as the day approached, she 
 grew more silent and more abstracted. Lady Anne 
 thought of nothing beyond the new dresses, and the 
 glittering ''toys and trifles." Her sisters thought 
 that silence was only part of being in love ; and, 
 though glad of what every one called " Isabella's good 
 fortune," they were too sad, when they thought it 
 involved their separation, to wonder that she should 
 sometimes be sad like themselves. But Mrs. Palmer 
 saw that there was more than the natural and sweet 
 sorrow which a kind and affectionate temper feels at 
 the prospect of parting with the companions of her 
 girlhood ; she had, to use the old lady's phrase, ** evi- 
 dently something on her mind." What that was, 
 Mrs. Palmer learned two days before her marriage, 
 when Isabella came, for the last time, to drink tea 
 with her alone. 
 
 " You are wrong." said the agitated girl, who had 
 dwelt on one subject till she could bear its bitterness 
 no longer, and confidence became the "greatest relief 
 ' — *'you are quite wrong, in supposing that I am not
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 155 
 
 attached to Mr. Glentworth." This idea had entered 
 Mrs. Palmer's imagination ; she thought that perhaps 
 she had been mistaken in Isabella's feelings, and that 
 she was, in mistaken disinterestedness, sacrificing her- 
 self to the good of her family. '' I love him to a de- 
 gree that I do not understand. It is wonderful that 
 a stranger should be dearer to me than those whom I 
 have loved and known for years — yet, dearer is he to 
 me ; I would forsake all, and follow him alone." 
 
 * ' Very natural, and very proper, ' ' replied Mrs . Pal- 
 mer ; '' but what, then, is the matter with you?" 
 
 ** I will tell you," answered Isabella, in a choked 
 voice — '' I love him ! but he does not love me !" 
 
 Mrs. Palmer started. '' What does he marry you 
 for, then?" 
 
 '* Kindness ! — pity," replied she, ** for the orphans 
 of his friend !" 
 
 *' Gentlemen do not often marry for such praise- 
 worthy reasons," replied Mrs. Palmer, who would 
 certainly have laughed, if her young friend had looked 
 less serious. 
 
 '' If there ever was any body kind and good, it is 
 yourself," exclaimed Isabella; ''read this letter," 
 giving Mr. Glentworth's, '' and tell me whether I have 
 not cause to be unhappy." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer drew the candle towards her, adjusted 
 her spectacles, and began to read. Isabella thought 
 she never would have finished ; and when the letter 
 was ended, the old lady deliberately began and read 
 it over again. ''A very kind, considerate letter,"
 
 156 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 said she, folding it carefully, and returning it to the 
 owner, " but I cannot find out what there is in it to 
 make you unhappy." 
 
 ''Do you not see," exclaimed Isabella, fancying 
 that one portion of the epistle must have been omitted, 
 " that he owns he has loved another?" 
 
 ** My dear, little foolish girl," cried Mrs. Palmer, 
 with an expression of the greatest relief, " is that all ? 
 I should never have thought that you would have been 
 so silly — what else could you expect ? Do you think 
 that a handsome man like Mr. Glentworth, going 
 about the world, too, all his life, should never have 
 been in love till now I it would be ridiculous to sup- 
 pose such a thing." Isabella gave a deep sigh. 
 "Almost every boy fancies that he is in love — and 
 every girl too, for the matter of that," continued Mrs. 
 Palmer; ''but it always ends in nothing — and very 
 lucky for them it does." 
 
 " But," said Isabella, " Mr. Glentworth alludes to 
 a serious, devoted attachment." 
 
 "But," replied Mrs. Palmer, "one hopeless, and 
 therefore at an end." Poor Isabella did not feel as 
 if an attachment must be at an end because hopeless. 
 She said nothing, however, and Mrs. Palmer went on. 
 " Now there is my husband and myself: he was not 
 only married before, but it was a love-match ; but it 
 never came into my head to be jealous of the late 
 Mrs. Palmer." This scarcely appeared a case in 
 point to her youthful listener, who still remained silent, 
 from not knowing very well what to say. " Listen to
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 157 
 
 me, my dear little Isabella, and come and sit here,'* 
 pointing to a seat beside the arm-chair, and passing 
 her hand caressingly over the pretty head that now 
 rested on her knee, '' never make fanciful miseries for 
 yourself. There is plenty of real sorrow, without your 
 inventing any. Here have you been fretting, and 
 making me more anxious than you suppose, and all 
 for what ? — because a man turned thirty has already 
 had an attachment I I dare say he has had half a 
 dozen." Isabella thought that she preferred half a 
 dozen to the one ; still, she could not help secretly 
 feeling that the matter was beginning to appear of 
 less paramount importance. 
 
 *' I will tell you what, my very dear child," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Palmer, kindly and seriously, " there is 
 neither judgment nor delicacy in questioning of these 
 matters ; let the past alone. You are about to marry 
 a man worthy of any woman's affection ; you will 
 have a guide and a protector in the many difficulties 
 of life ; one to whom you may safely look up, and from 
 whom you will meet all kindness and affection. Per- 
 haps he fears that you may expect that exaggerated 
 devotion suited to the romantic boy, but not to the 
 rational and responsible husband. He tells you that 
 your affection will constitute his happiness — let it be 
 your study to make it such ; and, a year hence, come 
 and tell me how fond Mr. Glentworth is of his little 
 Isabella." 
 
 Only those who have brooded over some sorrow con-
 
 158 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 nected with the affections — fanciful, perhaps, at first, 
 but grown into painful reality by the imagination con- 
 stantly dwelling upon it — can tell the relief which 
 Isabella found in the mingled kindness and plain good 
 sense of Mrs. Palmer. She blamed herself for mor- 
 bid indulgence in what she now held was a vain and 
 selfish regret, while she had not been sufficiently thank- 
 ful for the actual blessings of her lot. Moreover, for 
 the buoyant eye of youth always turns to the future, 
 she looked forward to securing the attachment of her 
 husband, by constant care for his happiness, her ten- 
 der and anxious affection. 
 
 The day of the wedding came at last — a day of dis- 
 appointment to Lady Anne, who found all her plans, 
 of an elegant breakfast, a bishop to perform the cere- 
 mony, a special license, and a select party of friends — 
 that is, those of her acquaintance whose names would 
 look best in a paragraph ; all this was " blighted in 
 the bloom" by Mr Glentworth's rigid determination 
 that the marriage should be strictly private. Mrs. 
 Palmer was the only guest whom he would allow to be 
 invited ; " and but for Lord Rotheles passing, by 
 chance, through London, I verily believe," said Lady 
 Anne, indignantly, " he would have asked Mr. Palmer 
 to give you away.'* 
 
 While bills are being brought into the House of 
 Commons to regulate every thing, from the sweeps 
 crying ** sweep," to " emancipation, vote by ballot, 
 and free trade,'* is there no county member whose
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 159 
 
 '' time and talents" are devoted to '' domestic policy," 
 who will bring in a bill " for the better regulation of 
 the marriage ceremony/' and put the canonical hours 
 later in the day ? What justice, or, what is more to 
 the point in the present day, what philanthropy is 
 there in disturbing the natural rest of a whole house- 
 hold, because one of them is to be married ? at all 
 events, could there not be a special clause in favour 
 of London ? A spring morning there is the very re- 
 verse of Thomson's description ; for " delicious mild- 
 ness" read ''a cutting east wind;" and for "veiled 
 in roses" substitute *' smoke and fog." The streets 
 are given up to the necessities of life — to the milk- 
 man with his cans, the butcher with his tray, the 
 baker with his basket ; all belong to the material 
 portion of existence. Now, marriage is (or ought to 
 be) an affair of affections, sentiments, &c. The legis- 
 lature ought to give it the full benefit of moonlight 
 and wax-candles. 
 
 When they arrived at St. George's, Lady Anne 
 looked better than her daughters ; they had been up 
 half the night, clinging with natural fondness to the 
 sister about to leave her home for ever, and they had 
 risen far earlier than was necessary ; and, in their 
 anxiety that she should look her best, had done their 
 utmost, by over fatigue, to make the whole party look 
 as ill as possible. Isabella was too much dressed ; her 
 slight figure was quite weighed down with satin and 
 blonde. Mr. Glentworth had fallen into the common
 
 160 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 error of supposing that nothing could dehght a young 
 person so much as dress ; wliile Lady Anne, en- 
 chanted to think that no restraint was laid upon the 
 '' milliners* bills," had launched into every possible 
 extravagance, while Isabella thought it would be un- 
 gracious to reject aught that came to her as his gift. 
 
 Lord Rotheles gave the bride away with the most 
 perfect propriety, assuming the interest that he did 
 slightly feelj and wishing them, with an air equally 
 cordial and sincere, that happiness which he thought 
 they were taking the worst possible method of secu- 
 ring. The earl had been a very handsome man, but 
 dissipation had assisted time, and he was now the 
 wreck of his former self. Little did Mr. Glentworth 
 dream of how much his own destiny had been con- 
 nected with that of the Earl of Rotheles. His lord- 
 ship regretted exceedingly that a particular and indis- 
 pensable engagement on business precluded his ac- 
 companying them to Welbeck Street. The fact was, 
 he dreaded a scene, and hated a family party. Mr. 
 Glentw^orth hurried the leave-taking as much as he 
 could, but not even her own conviction that she was 
 most fortunate, most happy, could prevent a pas- 
 sionate burst of tears as the bride sank back in the 
 elegant travelling-carriage. 
 
 ** What a pity,'* exclaimed Lady Anne, as she cast 
 a discontented look on her daughters, '* that you 
 should be so beautifully dressed, and no one to see 
 you r Her attention was, however, attracted to IMary,
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 161 
 
 who, in the most ill-judged manner, fainted away in 
 her new dress and bonnet. It was found to be a case 
 beyond domestic remedies, and a physician was sent 
 for. The patient was ordered to bed, and the medical 
 man gave no hopes of rapid recovery. The fact was. 
 Miss Granard was in that state of health which was 
 unequal to the slightest exertion ; patient and quiet, 
 she never complained, till at last the excitement of her 
 sister's marriage proved too much for her wasted and 
 feeble frame. The physician soon began to hint at 
 the necessity of change of scene, and Lady Anne to 
 think how ill-fated she was to have a sickly daughter. 
 " Why, it is only the other day," cried she, " that you 
 had the scarlet fever." 
 
 " London never did agree with Mary,'* said Louisa, 
 in an apolegetic tone. 
 
 " Nonsense ! London never disagrees with me," said 
 her ladyship. 
 
 " But Mary has quite a different constitution," re- 
 plied her sister ; " she needs air and exercise.**' 
 
 " Air and exercise!" interrupted Lady Anne ; *' why 
 did I not get you a key to the Portman Square Gar- 
 den ?"
 
 162 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER Xlli. 
 
 "1 am too happy 1" exclaimed Isabella, as she 
 paced up and down the gravel walk of the inn where 
 they stopped to breakfast on their return to London, 
 having stepped into the garden while waiting for Mr. 
 Glentworth. It was one of those delicious mornings, 
 *' when but to breathe is pleasant ;" sunshine lay 
 golden on every leaf, and the beds were filled with com- 
 mon flowers, lovelier for their being common^ sheltered 
 by a hedge of mingled honeysuckle and wild rose, 
 stood some hives of bees, the sound of whose pliant 
 wings came from the kitchen-garden beyond, now in 
 the first fragrant blossom of the bean. The low, 
 clipped hawthorn hedge shewed, on the other side, a 
 green and winding lane^ which divided the fertile 
 meadows, some of which still swept in emerald luxu- 
 riance, while others were sweet with the newly-mown 
 grass. A church crowned the hill, whose square tower 
 was clothed with the ivy of a century. Isabella walked 
 on with a keen feeling of enjoyment, and soon began 
 to pick some of the flowers with which the garden was 
 so profusely stocked ; it was only within the last few 
 weeks that she had known the pleasure of gathering a 
 nosegay for herself.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 163 
 
 Mr. Glentworth had not taken his young bride to 
 any of the more noted scenes ; those he kept for a 
 time when the imagination might need more stimulus ; 
 now he contented himself with a quiet journey through 
 a secluded part, whose beauty consisted only in those 
 green fields and lanes which are peculiar to England. 
 Placed under no necessity to admire, she enjoyed 
 every thing ; and she was never weary of the drive or 
 walk through a country, which, accustomed as she 
 was to a dull, dark street, seemed to her " an opening 
 paradise." Mr. Glentworth was delighted with the 
 fresh pure taste, whose enjoyments were so simple and 
 yet so vivid ; and when, let her be doing what she 
 would, he was caught sight of at the first glance, and 
 she sprang to meet him, her hands filled with flowers, 
 and her cheek as bright, he could not but admit the 
 felicity of being so beloved. He now made his appear- 
 ance at the end of the walk ; she seemed to know it 
 by intuition, for she turned instantly, and, in another 
 moment, her arm was in his, and they had entered the 
 breakfast- room. If the fields of long rich grass — the 
 hedges where a few late sprays of hawthorn were 
 still in bloom — if these were thoroughly English, so 
 was the little inn parlour, with its white curtains, 
 where the roses looked in at the window. The break- 
 fast table, which, at Isabella's request, had been 
 drawn close to the open casement, seemed the picture 
 of comfort. Most of the articles were home-made ; 
 the bread, the yellow butter, as golden as the cups to
 
 164 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 which it has given name ; the thickest cream, and a 
 honeycomb redolent of the thyme which even then 
 echoed with the hum of the bees. 
 
 " By the bye, Isabella/' said Mr. Glentworth, " I 
 cannot longer let you have a secret from me. What 
 did you do with the hundred pounds, whose use and 
 possession were to be such a mystery?** Isabella 
 coloured deeper than the roses at her side, while con- 
 fessing. " You are a dear, good little girl,*' said her 
 husband ; " I suspected something of the sort. Do 
 you still vote for Charles Penrhyn ?" 
 
 " I am more anxious than ever,'^ whispered Isabella. 
 " The more happy I am, the more I wish Louisa happy, 
 too." 
 
 " Do you see this letter ?" said her husband; "it 
 was to meet me here, and I have just fetched it from 
 the post-office. I find that I can now place Mr. Pen- 
 rhyn in a situation of complete independence, and with 
 excellent prospects. Shall we write to ask him and 
 Louisa to dine with us the day we arrive in town ?'* 
 
 ''How kind you are!" exclaimed Isabella 3 "do 
 tell me what Charles Penrhyn is to be." 
 
 «' A merchant," replied Mr. Glentworth ; " govern- 
 ment interest I have none, but my late connection 
 enables me to name him as junior partner in an old 
 established house. He will have a thousand a year 
 to begin with, and with prudence and talent will 
 realize a large fortune." 
 
 '' How can Louisa, how can I thank you enough?" 
 said Isabella,
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 165 
 
 "My letters received this morning bring me ano- 
 ther piece of news with which, I fear, you will not 
 be so well pleased. 1 must be in Marseilles as soon 
 as possible/' Isabella could not but contrast her 
 present feelings on hearing that he was going abroad, 
 to those with which she had once listened to a similar 
 declaration. " I have been thinking,'* continued he, 
 " that such a journey would do Mary the greatest 
 benefit. Could you persuade her to accompany us ? I 
 must be much taken up with business, and you might 
 feel lonely." 
 
 " J am sure that Mary will be glad, almost as glad 
 as myself,*' replied Isabella. Mr. Glentworth had his 
 letters to write before he began the day's journey, and 
 Isabella again loitered a half hour in the garden. 
 What a change had a few weeks made in her pro- 
 spects, and in those of her family ! she was married to 
 a man who anticipated her very wishes. The obstacles 
 to Louisa's attachment were on the point of being re- 
 moved, and Mary was about to have that change 
 which her physican declared was her only chance of 
 restored health. Again Isabella exclaimed, " I am 
 too happy/' 
 
 Louisa was to dine with Mrs. Glentworth at their 
 hotel in Albemarle Street ; her lover was to come in 
 the evening, as all parties agreed that he ought at 
 once to communicate his altered situation to Lord 
 and Lady Penrhyn. Charles had accepted Mr. 
 Glentworth's offered kindness frankly and gratefully.
 
 166 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " Our happiness, and my doing credit to your recom- 
 mendation, will," said he to his new friend, '* be 
 your best reward." 
 
 He found both sister and brother in high good 
 humour. A Hungarian baron, with an unpro- 
 nounceable name, had that very morning been so 
 struck with Lady Penrhyn's beauty, that, not know- 
 mg she was married, he laid himself, castle, sabre, 
 and fur pelisses at her feet, for immediate accept- 
 ance. 
 
 She told this as a good story, not considering how 
 much it revealed of the lightness and encouragement 
 which must have marked her conduct, before it could 
 have happened to a married woman, and not aware 
 of what to other tellers constituted the point of the 
 anecdote, that the Hungarian had understood that 
 she was not the wife, but the heiress of Lord Penrhyn. 
 He was equally pleased after his kind ; a new and 
 rich vein of lead had been discovered in some mines 
 which he had bought for next to nothing from an old 
 friend who had ruined himself in the speculation. 
 Gratified vanity and interest give their own interest 
 to fish, flesh, and fowl : the cloth removed, and the 
 servants withdrawn, Penrhyn thought that he could 
 not have a better opportunity. A man is always 
 ashamed of confessing that he is about to be mar- 
 ried — even to an heiress — but when it comes to an 
 attachment, and to a girl without a shilling, the 
 avowal is very embarrassing indeed. Charles planned
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 167 
 
 divers ways of introducing the subject during the 
 three courses, and of course did exactly the reverse 
 of what he intended. Instead of ingeniously bringing 
 the conversation round to the point he wished, he 
 made a desperate rush, and exclaimed abruptly, 
 " Do you know I am going to be married ?" 
 
 ''What heiress have you brought down?" cried 
 •his sister. 
 
 ''You are never going to be such a fool," said 
 Lord Penrhyn. 
 
 " I should despise myself," replied Charles, with 
 un petit air de sentiment, ' ' were I capable of marry- 
 ing for money." 
 
 "All for love, and the world well lost," inter- 
 rupted Lady Penrhyn. 
 
 "I certainly," returned her brother, "consider 
 love indispensable in marriage." 
 
 " Money is much more so," exclaimed Lord 
 Penrhyn ; " you cannot marry on three hundred a 
 year." 
 
 "Oh," cried her ladyship, " I see the whole menage ; 
 they will take a first floor over a baker's shop, to 
 save fire, and live upon red herrings during the 
 week, with a mutton chop by way of meat on a 
 Sunday." 
 
 "1 think," replied Charles, " we might do better 
 than that even on three hundred a year. But I 
 frankly confess, that, with my habits and ideas, 
 though I could put aside luxuries, I could not en-
 
 168 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 dure to marry without my wife had some prospect of 
 the comfort and refinement of that rank in life to 
 which we have both been accustomed." 
 
 "I must tell you/' exclaimed Lord Penrhyn, 
 ** that you need not look to any thing from me. I 
 would not, if I could, help a young man who thinks 
 of marrying." , 
 
 *' And, pray, who is the young lady?" asked his 
 sister. 
 
 *' Louisa Granard," replied her brother, who could 
 scarcely have named any one more displeasing. 
 
 *' That insipid pink and white thing !" cried Lady 
 Penrhyn . 
 
 '' Why, she has not a guinea, nor an expectation," 
 cried her husband. 
 
 *' With all sorts of extravagant notions, inherited 
 from her mother," said that mother's particular 
 friend. 
 
 ''Lady Anne ruined her husband," said Lord 
 Penrhyn. 
 
 ^' Will you have a hackney coach for your travel- 
 ling carriage ?" cried her ladyship. 
 
 ''Spare your wit, Julia," replied Mr. Penrhyn ; 
 " my mind is quite ^made up. Louisa and myself 
 have been long attached, and, if our home be an 
 humble, I hope, I know that it will be a happy one. 
 I trust in the course of a month to introduce Mrs. 
 Charles Penrhyn." 
 
 ^* Not to me," interrupted his sister, ** I will have
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 169 
 
 no straw-bonneted, gingham-gowned pattern wives 
 in my acquaintance. I shall make a point of cutting 
 you." 
 
 " I am glad that you, my dear Julia," said Lord 
 Penrhyn, '' show your usual good sense in not en- 
 couraging such folly. Again, I ask, how are you 
 and Miss Louisa Granard to live upon three hundred 
 a year?" 
 
 "• We do not," returned Charles, " intend to try ; 
 '' it would, indeed, have been folly to marry upon so 
 limited an income, but we have always looked for- 
 ward to your lordship's interest placing me in a more 
 independent position." 
 
 '* I can and will do nothing for you," was the 
 short stern answer. 
 
 "I do not now ask you," said the other. ''Mr. 
 Glentworth's kindness has opened to me other pro- 
 spects. I shall resign my present situation." 
 
 "Very ungrateful of you," interrupted his sister, 
 " after all the interest it required to obtain it." 
 
 '' I do not think that is much ingratitude," replied 
 he, " in giving it up, when, by so doing, I more than 
 treble my income." 
 
 " I did not know that Glentworth had such in- 
 terest. What place has he procured for you?" asked 
 Lord Penrhyn. 
 
 " I am to be the junior partner in the house of 
 Franklin and Osborne, with which he has long been 
 connected," answered Mr. Penrhyn. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ''A. tradesman !" shrieked his sister ; " have you 
 no sense of what is due to your family — no pride ?'* 
 
 "Yes/' said Charles, " I have the pride of inde- 
 pendence." 
 
 *'l consider myself very ill used/* said Lord Pen- 
 rhyn, '' that you who owe me — I may say every thing 
 — have not thought proper to consult me in this busi- 
 ness.*' 
 
 "I came here/' returned his young relative, '' the 
 moment I heard of it. I never supposed you could 
 object to such an opening for my future exertions/* 
 
 Lord Penrhyn hesitated, while his w^ife exclaimed, 
 *^ If you had one atom of the spirit of a gentleman, 
 you w^ould not think of so disgracing your family." 
 
 " I really cannot see how I disgrace my family," 
 replied her brother, ''by an endeavour at honourable 
 exertion." 
 
 *'Well," cried she, " I only beg you will not give 
 yourself the trouble of coming here again, and, as for 
 your wdfe, I can tell you that I will never vi^t her." 
 
 '' You have quite cured me," said Lord Penrhyn, 
 now assured that he would have no conjugal op- 
 position to encounter, " of ever doing any thing 
 for a young man again . I give you up ; if you like 
 to throw away your own prospects, you may, but, 
 as this will be the last time we shall meet under a 
 roof, which, as your sister truly says, you are about 
 to disgrace, I take the opportunity of saying that I 
 consider your conduct the height of ingratitude/'
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. IJl 
 
 ^' This is too unreasonable/' cried Charles, rising : 
 ''where is the disgrace of an intelligent and ho- 
 nourable calling, and where the ingratitude of endea- 
 vouring to improve my condition, without trespassing 
 further on your kindness?'* 
 
 *'Good evening, sir," said Lord Penrhyn, who 
 had too much sense not to know that the subject 
 would not bear arguing. Charles's heart swelled 
 within him ; he went round, and would have taken his 
 sister's hand to bid her farewell, but she snatched it 
 away, and said, '' Remember, I shall never visit your 
 wife." Charles left the house at once indignant and 
 astonished ; and yet he had lived long enough in the 
 world to know that nothing is too unreasonable nor 
 too unkind for selfishness, acted upon by vanity ; 
 moreover, that we always harden ourselves in the ill 
 doing of which we are secretly ashamed. 
 
 i2
 
 172 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mrs. Glentworth and her sister Mary set off the 
 next morning for Marseilles — too hurried almost for 
 the natural right of parting — and the next three days 
 Louisa passed in a fever of worry, to know why Charles 
 Penrhyn had not written to ask Lady Anne's con- 
 sent, as it was settled that he should do. Luckily, 
 Mrs. Palmer, who thought the young people would 
 be dull now their sisters were gone, asked the three 
 remaining ones to accompany her to the theatre, and 
 Mr. Charles Penrhyn having called in the morning, 
 she mentioned their plan to him, and, on his ex- 
 pressing a wish to join their party, gave a very kind 
 invitation to their box. The young lover was in 
 waiting, to hand them out of the large substantial 
 carriage, and the first quiet moment that he could 
 find for an apart whisper, said, '* What can be the 
 reason that your mother has never taken the slightest 
 notice of my letter ?" 
 
 "Your letter!" exclaimed Louisa, ''then you 
 have written to her?" 
 
 ''Of course," replied Mr. Penrhyn 3 "can you 
 suppose that I would lose one moment in writing ?"
 
 LADY ANNE GRAN ARD. IJS 
 
 "She has never," said Louisa, "even hinted at 
 it to me J and to-night she is gone with Lady Pen- 
 rhyn to the opera." 
 
 ''I shall write again to-morrow, may I not?" 
 asked Charles. 
 
 Louisa blushed, and that was answer enough. The 
 following morning a letter was brought to Lady 
 Anne, while she and Louisa were seated alone in the 
 drawing-room. Miss Granard bent sedulously over 
 her work-box, yet, with nervous quickness, her ear 
 caught the breaking of the seal, the rustle of the un- 
 folding, and then followed a deep silence while its con - 
 tents were being read. Her heart throbbed so audibly, 
 that she feared her mother must hear its beating. At 
 length Lady Anne spoke. " This is the most amusing 
 piece of impertinence. Fancy, my dear Louisa, Lady 
 Penrhyn's brother, who she was telling me has be- 
 haved most ungratefully to Lord Penrhyn — is the 
 writer of this letter — and what do you think are its 
 contents?" 
 
 There was something so discouraging in this exor- 
 dium, that Louisa could not force herself into a 
 reply. 
 
 '^ You will," continued her mother, *' look still 
 more surprised, when you hear that this young mer- 
 chant, for such, it seems, he is, has the presumption 
 to make you an offer, and this is the second letter 
 I have received from him." 
 
 '* He wrote before," exclaimed Louisa.
 
 174 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Anne, ** and I twisted his letter 
 into alumeties. I really did not think it worth while 
 noticing such folly ; but, to save myself the trouble of 
 opening any more letters, this may as well be an- 
 swered." 
 
 " My dear mamma," Louisa began, but in a voice 
 so low, that Lady Anne did not notice it, while her 
 ladyship continued, " you may as well save me the 
 trouble, just take a sheet of paper, and say, ^ Lady 
 Anne Granard's compliments to Mr. Charles, and 
 begs to decline the proposals, which she cannot but 
 express her surprise he should have thought worthy 
 of Miss Granard's attention." 
 
 The extremity of the case gave Louisa courage : — 
 
 '*I cannot," said she, gravely, ''write such an 
 answer, for Mr. Penrhyn had my permission to apply 
 to you." 
 
 "Are you mad?" cried Lady Anne; "did you 
 dream that I ever would consent to such a disgrace- 
 ful connexion?" 
 
 " I cannot see in what it is disgraceful," replied 
 Louisa, recovering her presence of mind. " Mr. Pen- 
 rhyn is a young man of good character." 
 
 " But of no fortune," interrupted her mother. 
 
 "Yet in the fair way of making one," replied 
 Miss Granard, " and with sufficient to begin upon." 
 
 " A merchant with some nine hundred a year, dis- 
 owned by his connexions." 
 
 " To their own disgrace," replied Louisa.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 175 
 
 "Say no more/' exclaimed Lady Anne; " you 
 shall never have my consent." 
 
 " Do not," cried her daughter, " force me into 
 marrying without it." 
 
 *' I will not have Charles Penrhyn's name,*' ex- 
 claimed Lady Anne, *' ever mentioned in this house 
 again. What can a girl want to be married for, un- 
 less the marriage be a good one ?" 
 
 *' Such do I consider mine," said Louisa. " I love 
 Charles — I have long loved him. In birth, education, 
 and position, there is perfect equality between us, 
 while Mr. Glentworth's kindness has placed him in 
 a situation which enables us to marry w^ith that pru- 
 dence, which neither would neglect for the sake of the 
 other/' 
 
 '' What business," cried Lady Anne, peevishly, 
 '' had Mr. Glentworth to interfere in the matter ?" 
 
 " Do not blame him," exclaimed her daughter ; ^' he 
 knew then he was making me happy." 
 
 *' What nonsense,'' said her ladyship, growing more 
 and more angry, " it is to talk about being happy !" 
 
 '* I trust," replied Louisa, " you will allow Mr. 
 Penrhyn to try and persuade you." 
 
 *' He shall never enter my house," returned her 
 mother, *' to mar your prospects in this manner. 
 Lady Penrhyn was telling me last night that you had 
 a very fair chance of Lord Casilda." 
 
 " A man old enough to be my grandfather," cried 
 Louisa ; '^ I must tell you once for all, I will marry
 
 176 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 no one but Charles Penrhyn ; we will wait any time 
 
 that you may think proper, if ." 
 
 " You may wait for ever," interrupted Lady Anne. 
 *' I will shut you up on bread and water, rather than 
 that you should marry him. I am sure never had any 
 body such wicked and undutiful children." 
 
 This was too much. Louisa burst into tears, and 
 left the room . For the next week her life was wretched ; 
 Lady Anne was sufficiently impressetl with the pro- 
 priety of marrying only for money or title, to have 
 been angry enough by herself; but she was stimu- 
 lated by Lady Penrhyn, who could not forgive her 
 brother — that he should be in the right, while she was 
 in the wrong — a very common, yet a very great 
 grievance in this world. 
 
 " Louisa will be worried to death, unless you stand 
 her friend,'' said Mr. Penrhyn to Mrs. Palmer, with 
 whom he had been talking over Lady Anne's vexa- 
 tious and continued opposition ; ** she is looking almost 
 as pale and ill as poor Mary." 
 
 Those who have all their lives been accustomed to 
 a cheerful and happy home, can scarcely understand 
 the extent to which domestic tyranny is sometimes 
 carried. But for her sister's affection, Louisa's life 
 would have been unbearable. To hear Lady Anne's 
 expressions, a stranger would have supposed that her 
 daughter had committed some disgraceful act, whose 
 very mention ought to be reprobated. To these re- 
 proaches Lady Penrhyn added her sneers, and Lord
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 177 
 
 Casilda his attentions, till Louisa began to think that 
 run away she must in her own defence. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer had, however, arranged differently. 
 " I am sure,'* said she, " Palm and myself are the 
 last persons in the world to encourage children in 
 being undutiful to their parents 3 but there's reason in 
 every thing. If children are to be dutiful, parents 
 ought to respect that duty. If Lady Anne had one 
 reasonable objection to the marriage, I would not say 
 a word. If it were imprudent, and in the thought- 
 lessness of youth you were about to plunge each other 
 in difficulties that neither were fit to encounter; if 
 she objected to your character, or thought that your 
 temper would not make her daughter comfortable, I 
 should say she was right in her opposition. But she 
 takes no care for the happiness of her child, who has 
 always been loving and dutiful, and she would rather 
 have her a countess, neglected, ill-matched, the pur- 
 chase of a selfish and bad-tempered man, than your 
 happy and affectionate wife." 
 
 " She will be happy, if I can make her so," said 
 the lover, earnestly. 
 
 " Now Palm and I," continued the kind-hearted 
 old lady, " have been thinking, that, though, perhaps, 
 Louisa might not like to marry from this very house, 
 just opposite to her mother's, who must see her get 
 into the carriage to go to church, it would seem like 
 setting her at defiance ; still why might not she be 
 married from my daughter's, Mrs. Gooch ?" 
 
 i5
 
 178 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 *' A most capital plan," exclaimed Charles. 
 
 '* Lady Anne will not be annoyed," added Mrs. 
 Palmer, " by seeing any of the preparations. Louisa 
 can be as quiet as she pleases during the fortnight 
 necessary for the license, and, let me tell you, Mrs. 
 Gooch is an excellent person for her to stay with be- 
 fore her marriage, Charlotte is such a capital ma- 
 nager." 
 
 '* We can never thank you enough/' replied Charles ; 
 " but when can she go?" 
 
 " I have settled it all, if you consent," answered 
 Mrs. Palmer ; " my daughter will be delighted to re- 
 ceive her. Helen is to call this afternoon for my mes- 
 sage, and to-morrow, before Lady Anne is up, I will 
 drive Louisa to Mrs. Gooch's." 
 
 What could Mr. Penrhyn say, but what he did — 
 that he was divided between love and gratitude. 
 
 In the mean time. Lady Anne had taken what she 
 called a decisive step in the business ; she had written 
 to Lord Rotheles, begging that he would remonstrate 
 with Louisa on her disgraceful marriage. By return 
 of post she received the following answer from Lady 
 Rotheles : 
 
 *' Dear Lady Anne — Rotheles and I are such an old- 
 fashioned couple, that we open each other^s letters. 
 From his being very unwell, I opened your's, which, 
 after reading it to him, he requested I would an- 
 swer. He begs me to say that we both consider it 
 very ill-judged on your part to object to any tolerably
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 179 
 
 respectable offer for one of your numerous family. 
 Your eldest daughter is still unmarried, and, from all I 
 hear, likely to remain so ; your youngest and prettiest 
 has only been able to attract a man old enough to be 
 her father. This is bad for her other sisters, as 
 it gives the unpopular idea of match-making. Lord 
 Rotheles unites with me in advising you to give your 
 immediate consent to Mr. Penrhyn's proposal. As, 
 however, Louisa is to marry so much beneath our 
 family, to a young man in trade, Lord Rotheles cannot 
 offer his services as father on the occasion. We, 
 however, unite in kind regards to the young couple ; 
 and we shall take the first opportunity of sending 
 them a wedding present. We are a little puzzled 
 what it can be. Ornaments would be too much out of 
 character ; perhaps money would be best — it is always 
 useful. We shall, therefore, send a twenty pound 
 note as a wedding present. We hope you will warn 
 our niece against becoming intimate with that noto- 
 rious flirt. Lady Penrhyn. As we trust that before 
 this reaches you, the expediency of the marriage will 
 have struck you as forcibly as it does us, we will 
 conclude with congratulations. 
 
 " Very much your's, 
 
 " H. Rotheles." 
 
 Louisa was received with the greatest cordiality by 
 
 her hostess, who seemed quite astonishd that Miss 
 
 Granard should think that there was any awkwardness 
 
 or delicacy in the matter.
 
 180 LADY ANNE GAANARD. 
 
 " Good gracious, my clear !^ said the lady, " I should 
 have ran off at once, if pa had said any thing against 
 my having Tom. I shouldn't have asked him twice. He 
 did talk about our waiting a year ; but, as Tom said, 
 ' what was the use of waiting, when he had just had 
 new carpets and curtains ?"* Mrs. Gooch, too, was sur- 
 prised that Louisa made a point of being as quiet as 
 possible 3 she declining going to three such pleasant 
 dances, would not go to the play, and even objected to 
 dinner-parties." ** Good gracious, my dear !"" again 
 exclaimed Mrs. Gooch; "Tom and I were so gay be- 
 fore our marriage. We went here, there, and ev^ry 
 where ; I think young people ought to see a little plea- 
 sure before being married, for they don't see much af- 
 terwards. Not that I need say so, for we have a great 
 many dinner and evening friends, and we go to Rich- 
 mond twice every summer." 
 
 Mrs. Gooch was that uncommon individual, a con- 
 tented person — she liked her house, her husband, and 
 her two children. Their footman was not very tall, 
 but he had a very showy livery of green and red ; 
 carriage they had not as yet, but they went to their 
 best dinners in a glass-coach ; and, as Mr. Gooch 
 observed, " there was no saying wdiat he might do in 
 a year or two." 
 
 Their parlour was an exceedingly comfortable 
 room ; there was a sofa often wheeled round to the fire 
 when Mrs. Gooch desired to flatter her husband, that 
 is, if imitation be the most delicate flattery, by fol-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 181 
 
 lowing his example, and going to sleep after dinner. 
 Mr. Gooch had a large easy chair opposite. There 
 was a bookcase on one side, and a work-table on the 
 other, and when the servant brought the tea things, 
 they mutually roused up, and a cup of good tea, both 
 were particular on that point, completely awakened 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Gooch then took her work, and Mr. Gooch a 
 book, which served to draw on a little confidential 
 conversation ; the one had the news of the neighbour- 
 hood, and the other the news of the city, to commu- 
 nicate. A little before eleven, they had some hot 
 negus, and then went to bed ; for Mrs. Gooch always 
 got up to make her husband's breakfast, and he was 
 obliged to be in the city by nine. 
 
 Miss Granard's visit was too important not to de- 
 range the usual economy of the house — the niece of 
 the Earl of Rotheles was a very different person from 
 the ordinary run of young friends who came to stay 
 a week or so. Mr. Gooch was so far moved from the 
 even tenour, to buy — first a pocket-book, containing a 
 small view of Rotheles Castle, at the top of a neatly- 
 ruled page for memoranda ; and, secondly, a number 
 of a work, illustrating the principal gentlemen's seats 
 in England, and containing a large view of the said 
 castle. It was decided that they should sit in the 
 drawing-room, in- Miss Granard's especial honour, 
 though Mrs. Gooch's peace of mind was a little dis- 
 turbed that there was not time to take the covers off
 
 182 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 the furniture. Now there is nothing that puts people 
 out of their way more than a change from their usual 
 sitting-room ; it is almost as bad as moving to a new 
 house. Moreover, Mrs. Gooch's drawing-room had 
 the cold and comfortless air inevitable on not being 
 in common use. Every thing was so terribly neat, 
 that you dreaded moving even a chair from what was 
 obviously its proper and appointed place. 
 
 There was the handsome carpet, new on the occa- 
 sion of Mr. Gooch's marriage, but it was carefully 
 covered with a drab drugget ; the curtains were of 
 a pretty pink damask, but they were enveloped in 
 brown holland bags, by which same material the chairs 
 and sofas were covered . The chandeliers were shrouded 
 in yellow gauze, so were the looking-glasses, while the 
 dull brown and sickly yellow produced the most chill 
 and unbecoming effect imaginable. The toys ranged, 
 not scattered, about were chiefly the result of Mrs. 
 Gooch's yearly excursions. There were '' memorials 
 of Margate," *' a trifle from Brighton," a man and 
 woman made of shells, divers pincushions ingeniously 
 inserted in the same marine abodes, and an alum- 
 basket, which looked as if it would crumble at a touch. 
 
 Mrs. Gooch felt as she were out on some formal 
 visit : she was debarred from that ordinary amuse- 
 ment, looking through the blinds without being seen ; 
 she did not like to produce her ordinary work in the 
 very face of the very handsome ivory box, which was 
 for show, not use j and she was a little puzzled what
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 183 
 
 sort of conversation was fit for the best room and Lady- 
 Anne Granard's daughter. She began to talk of the 
 opera, and it was the first step towards an acquaint- 
 ance, when Louisa very naturally diverged to the 
 theatre. But, between really kind and unaffected 
 people, this sort of reserve cannot last, and Louisa 
 was soon seated in the parlour window, and Mrs. 
 Gooch helping her to make a set of collars ; shopping, 
 too —shopping ! one of the pleasant necessities in a 
 young lady's case who is about to change her con- 
 dition, filled up the morning ; and, a little before six, 
 Charles Penrhyn's rap was as duly expected as Mr. 
 Gooch' s. The host and guest got on ex:ceedingly well 
 together, while Charles obtained much valuable in- 
 formation from Mr. Gooch' s good sense and expe- 
 rience. 
 
 Louisa, who was conscious of her own awkward po_ 
 sition, was sometimes a little vexed that, whenever 
 morning visitors called, Charlotte would ask some ques- 
 tion about her aunt the countess, and her uncle the 
 earl, and make an arch allusion to the approach of a 
 certain happy event ; still, these were temporary an- 
 noyances, and she found the fortnight glide away in 
 quiet and comfort, the more enjoyed from her recent 
 persecution. Twice she wrote to her mother, who took 
 not the least notice of her pleading and affectionate 
 letters. 
 
 The only communication was a packet, forwarded to 
 Miss Granard from her uncle, It may be doubted whe-
 
 184 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ther Lady Anne would have forwarded it so readily, 
 had she known its contents ; but, taking it for granted, 
 from the letter of Lady Rotheles, that they would be 
 of a mortifying nature, she lost no time in sending it 
 to its destination. But Lord Rotheles was incomplete 
 ignorance of the tenour of his wife's epistle, who simply 
 told him that she had written to Lady Anne, to remon- 
 strate on the folly of her opposing a respectable con- 
 nexion. The earl was too indolent and too poorly to do 
 any one an active service, but he really liked his pretty 
 nieces ; and, knowing that his wife encouraged no ge- 
 nerosity that had not herself for its object, wrote the fol- 
 lowing note, without consulting her upon the subject : 
 *' My dear niece, 
 
 " I regret much to hear that Lady Anne is opposed 
 to your marriage ; but your forming great matches 
 has ever been her weak point. I see no reason why you 
 should all become old maids while waiting for dukes. 
 I congratulate Mr. Penrhyn, ajid would have given 
 you away myself, but am too weak to travel so soon 
 after my illness. Pray accept the accompanying trifles, 
 with the best wishes of your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Rotheles." 
 
 The purple morocco cases accompanying the latter 
 contained a handsome set of gold ornaments. Louisa 
 was deeply gratified, even more oii Charles's account 
 than on her own ; it was such injustice on the part of 
 her family to treat him with such insolence as Lady 
 Anne and Lady Rotheles displayed. It was with the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 185 
 
 keenest pleasure she showed her uncle's kind letter 
 and present — it was gratifying to them both, that 
 her marriage should receive the sanction of the head of 
 her family. 
 
 The morning of the wedding came at last ; and when 
 the first gleam of sunshine broke through the curtains, 
 it roused Louisa from a sleepless pillow. Bitterly did 
 she feel the absence of her family from the approach- 
 ing ceremony. She remembered with what deep affec- 
 tion they had clung together the morning of Isabella's 
 marriage, and how each sought, at first in vain, to 
 cheer the other after her departure. She remembered, 
 too, how often the young bride's eyes had sought theirs, 
 as if to gather courage from their sympathy ! She 
 dreaded the sad yet sweet tears they had shed at part- 
 ing — none such would be shed to-day ! It seemed as 
 if she could think of nothing else : never had their 
 affection been disturbed by any of the selfish or trivial 
 disputes which so often disturb the serenity of a house- 
 hold ; they had always been ready to yield the one to 
 the other ; and it would indeed have taxed their me- 
 mory to recall one unkind word. 
 
 When Mrs. Gooch came in, who was all alive with 
 the gay flutter she held indispensable to a wed- 
 ding, she found Louisa weeping bitterly, to her utmost 
 astonishment. " I never," exclaimed she, ^' could un- 
 derstand why people cry when they are married — I 
 never cried at mine — what was there to cry for ? If 
 Tom had suddenly altered his mind, I might have cried*
 
 186 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 though I think, even then, I should have been in too 
 great a rage. But I am sure you are not afraid of 
 Mr. Penrhyn's altering his, for never was any one so 
 much in love." By dint, however, of scolding and 
 coaxing, she forced Louisa to commence the business 
 of the toilette. About an hour after, Mrs, Gooch ab- 
 solutely ran into her room. " Who do you think," ex- 
 claimed she, " are down stairs ?" But before she 
 could tell, or the other ask, Louisa found herself clasped 
 in her sister's arms, while Mrs. Gooch, with good- 
 natured consideration, left them to themselves. 
 
 " Has mamma forgiven me, that you are here ?" 
 asked Louisa, as soon as she could find words. 
 
 "She knows nothing about it," said Georgiana; 
 •' we shall be back before she is up. Fanchette is gone 
 out for two days, and nobody else will tell her a word/' 
 
 ^' We are not wrong. W^hy, dearest Louisa, should 
 you be banished from your own home, and left to the 
 kindness of strangers ? But I will say nothing about 
 it. I feel just as if I were doing right. I could not 
 bear that any one else should put up your beautiful hair 
 to-day, my own dear sister," exclaimed Helen, fondly 
 passing her hand through the long golden tresses, 
 almost as bright as the sunshine which they caught. 
 
 " But, however did you find your way here ?" said 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Mamma would die if she knew. The boy," re 
 plied Georgiana, *' walked with us to Oxford Street, 
 and we took a hackney-coach. Will Mrs. Gooch ever 
 forgive us for getting out of it at her door?"
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 187 
 
 " We have put on the pale blue silks that we wore 
 at Isabella's wedding ; that, however, was Georgiana's 
 thought," continued Helen ; '* she said it would be 
 impossible to go to church in our pink ginghams." 
 
 Louisa could not but feel how much she must be be- 
 loved by her sisters, before they would have undertaken 
 what, to girls of their secluded and obedient habits, was 
 indeed an enterprise ; she only hoped that it was not very 
 wrong to be as glad as she was of their presence and their 
 affection. The business of the toilette now proceeded 
 rapidly, only interrupted by Mrs. Gooch once looking in 
 to see how they were proceeding, and, it must be con- 
 fessed, also, to show herself. Her dress was entirely 
 new for the occasion ; and it was of '* excelling splen- 
 dour.'^ She had a jonquil silk pelisse, a bonnet of the 
 same colour, with a bird of paradise plume, looking 
 very much like an illuminated butterfly. But Mr. 
 Gooch liked bright colours 5 and, without going the 
 length of kindling yellow, most gentlemen like them 
 too. I think it is the mere preference of personal va- 
 nity, on the principle of contrast, their taste is dictated 
 by self-consideration ; a woman in sombre hues does 
 not sufficiently throw out their own dark dress. 
 
 When Louisa and her sisters descended to the draw- 
 ing-room, where Mr. and Mrs. Palmer were the only 
 guests, a murmur of applause ran round the little 
 circle. Louisa looked very lovely in her white muslin 
 dress and drawn white silk capote, only lighted up by 
 the golden and glossy ringlets. The pleasant surprise
 
 188 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 yet lingered in the smile around her mouth, and never 
 did blush deepen with softer carnation. There was 
 something so timid, yet so imploring, in her look of 
 deep and conscious happiness, it was as if she entreated 
 Fate to forgive it. 
 
 '' I cannot blame you," said Mrs. Palmer, in an- 
 swer to Helen's deprecating whisper of explanation ; 
 " Louisa well deserves your affection, but pray tell 
 your mother as soon as possible." 
 
 " Oh, we dare not I" cried Georgiana. 
 
 " I will tell her," said Helen, in a low voice ; ^' kind 
 friends as you all are, Louisa would have felt so lonely 
 without her sisters !'' 
 
 The ceremony was soon over ; but, to Charlotte's 
 great distress, the two girls did not stay : and Mrs. 
 Palmer's carriaofe took them back to the end of their 
 own street. It was well that their parting was hur- 
 ried for Louisa's sake, whose eyes filled with tears 
 when she thought it might be long before they met 
 again. Despite Mr. and Mrs. Gooch's good spirits, 
 who saw nothing to be unhappy about, the breakfast 
 was silent, and somewhat sad — a wedding breakfast 
 always is ; nay, the very happiest are most likely to 
 wear a serious seeming ; as Victor Hugo beautifully 
 says : — 
 
 " le bonheur est cliose grave, 
 
 EUe veut de coeurs de bronze, et lentement se grave, 
 
 Le plaisir reffarouche en lui jettant des fleurs 
 
 Et son sourire est moins pres des rires que des pleurs."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 189 
 
 And, moreover, the horizon of matrimony is only seen 
 through a glass, and that darkly, if the experience of 
 others be the glass by which we make our observations. 
 How often " the happiest day of one's life" is the 
 herald of many miserable ones ! How many marry in 
 all the trust of confident affection, in all the gladness 
 of life's sweetest hope, and yet find themselves mise- 
 rably disappointed ; — affection becomes gradually 
 chilled in the differences of every day ; hope discovers 
 its mistake, and 
 
 ** Such hopes like fairies, when ihey part. 
 Leave withered rings around the heart." 
 
 And no ring, if it does wither its circle, withers so 
 utterly as a golden one. With only the false criterion 
 of courtship to judge by, the wedded pair expect too 
 much from each other ; and those who should make 
 the most, make the least allowance. Tastes differ, 
 tempers jar, trifles become important — as the grain of 
 sand, which, nothing in itself, yet, gathered together, 
 sweeps over the fertile plain, leaving no sign that 
 there ever was blossom or fruit. The scar, which 
 would soon pass, did distance or time intervene, can- 
 not heal from hourly irritation. One quarrel brings 
 the memory of its predecessor, and grievances and 
 mortifications are treasured up for perpetual reference. 
 Too late, each finds out how utterly unsuited either 
 is to the other ; they have not a feeling, a taste, or an 
 opinion in common.
 
 190 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ** Whither flies love, ah ! where the purple bloom ?** 
 gone never to return ; an illusion destroyed is de- 
 stroyed for ever ; and what is love but an illusion ? 
 poor basis for the happiness of many years : the heart 
 that trusts to its shelter, builds its house upon the 
 sands. Still, there is no rule without an exception, and 
 Mr. Gooch might be right when he drank a glass of 
 pink champagne " to the health and happiness of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Charles Penrhyn.'' The next day Lady 
 Anne received the Morning Post, with Lady Pen- 
 rhyn''s kind compliments, and a pencil mark at the 
 following announcement. 
 
 "Yesterday, at St. Giles's, Bloomsbury, Charles 
 Penrhyn, only son of the late Charles Penrhyn, of 
 Penrhynhurst, to Louisa, second daughter of the late 
 Edward Granard, Esq." The paper fell from Lady 
 Anne's hand. ** To think," cried she, in the low, 
 deep tone of horror, amounting to awe, " that a daugh- 
 ter of mine has been married at St. Giles's, Blooms- 
 bury."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The look of consternation assumed by Lady Anne, 
 on this trying occasion, instantly communicated to her 
 alarmed daughters a sense of the necessity for guarding 
 their secret, which ought never to have entered their 
 minds. They could not bring themselves to believe 
 that the church in which their beautiful sister had 
 " plighted her troth,*' was materially different from 
 that which had received the vows of Isabella, and were 
 quite certain that her marriage exhibited no " maimed 
 rites," and that her bridegroom was much more ani- 
 mated, and apparently more happy than the dear, 
 good gentleman, whom alone they had beheld in a 
 similar situation. The only difference in the affair 
 which struck them was the great age of the officiating 
 minister, as distinct from the elegant young gentleman 
 who officiated in their younger sister's case, and they 
 alike gave him greatly the preference. In the sim- 
 plicity of their hearts, they believed that his prayers 
 would have more efficacy from the many years in which 
 they had been offered, and had therefore already con- 
 cluded (with the premature conviction of youth) that 
 although Isabella had been far the better married, 
 Louisa would be the happier wife.
 
 192 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 But that mamma did not think so, nor even wish it 
 should be so, was evident from the indignation not less 
 than the sorrow of her countenance on reading the an- 
 nouncement of the marriage sent so considerately by 
 her dear friend, Lady Penrhyn, for the amiable pur- 
 pose of making her very miserable. That the obliging 
 missive answered its purpose we have seen, but, as the 
 two ladies had too many points in common not to un- 
 derstand one another, no long time elapsed before the 
 dowager drew some consolation from the belief, that 
 at the very time when a source of chagrin was thus 
 offered to her, the kind hand which bestowed the 
 blow belonged to one who was overwhelmed with vexa- 
 tion herself. *' If she ever loved any human being 
 (but of that I have my doubts), " it was certainly her 
 brother ; and, since she caught that fool, her husband, 
 it may probably have entered her head that Charles 
 might be as lucky as herself ; in that case, she is mor- 
 tified very sufficiently, I must own ; nevertheless, she 
 has no right to think lightly of tlie honour he has at- 
 tained, which is more, a great deal, than she had a 
 right to expect ; but she is, in fact, an odious creature."" 
 
 Lady Anne was happily interrupted by tlie arrival 
 of the post with a letter, franked by her brother the 
 Earl of Rotheles ; he w^as so ailing and so indolent, 
 that she was not surprised to find it merely an enve- 
 lope to a slip of newspaper, such a circumstance having 
 not unfrequently occurred to her before. She could 
 not have any doubt that it was merely a repetition of
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 193 
 
 that she had already felt to be an insult, and that it 
 was forwarded by her sister-in-law% with a good deal 
 of the same kindly intention which actuated her friend; 
 it was, however, in a larger print than the one on the 
 table, and might be less annoying ; she, therefore, told 
 Georgiana to read it to her. 
 
 The poor girl took it up with a deprecating air, 
 saying, '* Which side must I read, mamma?" 
 
 " The side, miss, which exhibits your sister's dis- 
 graceful position in the low marriage which she has 
 made, for I have no doubt that is the galling subject 
 of the paper. Your eye is quick enough ; read that, 
 and let it operateon both you and Helen as a warning.'' 
 
 " Married, at St. Giles's, by the Lord Bishop of 
 Chichester, Rector, Charles Penrhyn, only son of 
 the late Charles Penrhyn, Esq., of Penrhynhurst, to 
 Louisa, second daughter of the late Edward Granard, 
 Esq., of Granard Park, and Lady Anne, daughter of 
 the late and sister of the present Earl of Rotheles. 
 The beautiful bride was given at the altar by James 
 Palmer, Esq., as the representative of the earl, her 
 uncle, and accompanied by her lovely sisters, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gooch, and other friends." 
 
 Before there was time for comment, Georgiana, 
 glancing her eye to the lower part of the slip of paper, 
 read on. 
 
 " The great age of the venerable Bishop of Chi- 
 chester renders it utterly improbable that he should 
 ever again officiate at the altar, for we are assured that, 
 
 VOL, I. K
 
 194 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 immediately after performing the ceremony of that 
 marriage in high life mentioned above, his lordship 
 set out for the palace at Chichester ; but it was much 
 doubted, by his lordship's friends and attendants, 
 whether he would arrive there in life.*' 
 
 " I hope he will not,"' exclaimed Lady Anne, ** for 
 it is a relief to know she was married by a proper per- 
 son, and undoubtedly old Chichester was a gentleman, 
 and it will be always thought he killed himself by 
 making an exertion due to my family — not but the 
 whole affair may be a story got up to please my bro- 
 ther. One part of it is a lie, we are certain — she had 
 no lovely sisters, nor unlovely ones either, for both 
 Mary and Isabella are broiling on the Mediterranean 
 sea." 
 
 Georgiana looked at Helen, who sprang fon,vard 
 and took her hand, when both dropped on their knees 
 before their mother, and, with eyes full of tears, 
 looked timidly towards her — both found great diffi- 
 culty in speaking, yet they were equally sensible that 
 they ought to do so, and that now was their time, for 
 the Bishop had certainly half- exorcised the evil spirit 
 which had so lately possessed her ladyship. Georgiana 
 therefore began. 
 
 *' We were so fond of Louisa, mamma." 
 
 " She loved us so very dearly,*' sighed Helen. 
 
 " And to have no mamma, no sister, no natural 
 friend.** 
 
 *' At such an awful time !*' echoed Helen.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 195 
 
 " What can you mean to say ? What do you kneel 
 and cry for, in that unnatural way, like a pair of 
 tragedy queens ?'* 
 
 " Because, mamma, we — ''^ 
 
 " We were there — pray, pray forgive us — we 
 went to the wedding." 
 
 " Went to the wedding in your pink ginghams?'* 
 screamed Lady Anne. 
 
 " Oh ! no, dear mamma, we dressed in the same 
 things exactly which were given us for Isabella's 
 bridal — surely we did right to appear as your 
 daughters and Mrs. Glentworth's sisters ought to 
 do.?" sobbed Georgiana. 
 
 " You did very wrong in the whole affair; but, 
 pray, rise, I hate a scene — my nerves are over- 
 wrought with these detestable newspapers — not but 
 the last is very tolerably made up — the Palmers of 
 Nayburgh Hall, in Yorkshire, are an ancient and 
 highly respectable family; so are the Goodies, in 
 Suffolk and Gloucester — so far it is fortunate that no 
 vulgar names appear, save that of the church, and 
 within half a century there were two ducal seats in 
 that parish." 
 
 " Yes, mamma; and Milton and Marvel were both 
 buried there," cried Helen, in a consolatory voice. 
 
 ^' At least the latter was," observed Georgiana. 
 
 *' The place could not be made endurable by fifty 
 such people, much less two — both poets and both 
 radicals — no, no, the stain is indelible ; but, where 
 
 K 2
 
 196 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 people have no mark, they soon become forgotten* 
 Louisa has consigned herself to oblivion, so I shall 
 not vex myself with thinking of her. I shall tell 
 Mrs. Palmer my opinion freely as to her conduct." 
 
 *' She did every thing for your sake, mamma; she 
 said, * Lady Anne must not be vexed nor mortified ;* 
 she contrived every thing so that you might escape 
 all trouble and see nothing to wound you,"" 
 
 In point of fact, perhaps, Lady Anne, during her 
 whole wedded life, had never experienced so much of 
 the ordinary feelings of a mother as rose in her heart 
 (if she had such a thing) when her two fair girls, with 
 tearful eyes and beseeching countenances, looked to 
 her for pardon and love. She had preferred Louisa, 
 as considering her the most beautiful and the most 
 likely to make a splendid marriage-connection; and 
 was, of cour?e, exceedingly disappointed that she 
 should have done what she considered exactly the 
 reverse ; and she also felt very angry at the disobe- 
 dience she had evinced, and the bad example she had 
 given her younger sisters ; but their conduct con- 
 vinced her that, in this respect, she had little to fear. 
 They had done wrong, but the Palmers were more to 
 blame than the girls ; and they were, after all, too 
 convenient to be quarrelled with. It was, certainly, 
 better that Louisa should have found a home with 
 people of character, though such people, than have 
 been taken by Charles Penrhyn to a lodging-house. 
 Her daughter had, at least, shown a sense of pro-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 197 
 
 prlety which would establish her mother'^s character as 
 a woman who had inculcated the strictest decorum. 
 
 Nor could that mother be quite devoid of a laudable 
 curiosity as to the appearance and conduct of her once 
 favourite daughter, on the most important day of her 
 existence, for it savoured of affection at least; there- 
 fore we give the ci-devant beauty praise for inquiring 
 ** what Louisa wore, and how she looked ?^' 
 
 On hearing of the muslin dress, she sneeringly ob- 
 served *' it was contemptible, but certainly consistent 
 with the state of life to which she had condemned her- 
 self,'* adding, " you must see, in this very circumstance, 
 my dears" (the sweet words enhanced the worth of the 
 advice, for my dears in Lady Anne's case were words 
 *' few and far between"), " the vast difference between 
 marrying well and ill. Isabella, whom I always con- 
 sidered my plainest child (as she was by no means so 
 fair as the rest ; and was, moreover, too young for 
 finished tournure or even manner) , in white satin and 
 blonde, with her bandeau of diamonds, and that splen- 
 did Brussels' veil, so sweetly supported by the orange 
 wreath, would actually look better than Louisa could 
 possibly do, in a muslin dress and a crape bonnet, even 
 with her unrivalled hair and exquisite eyes !" 
 
 Georgiana and Helen were both silent. 
 
 *' Surely you saw (since you were so imprudent as 
 to go thither) the great difference between your two 
 sisters' situation as brides ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes," cried Helen ; *' though I was all of a
 
 198 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 flutter, knowing that I had done wrong, and yet feel- 
 ing someway as if I had done right, I did feel clearly 
 there was a difference, mamma." 
 
 '' Well, child, and in what did it consist ?"" 
 
 " Charles Penrhyn looked a great deal happier than 
 Mr. Glentworth, and Louisa not quite so happy as 
 Isabella — how should she, dear mamma, when you 
 had not given your consent? otherwise she would 
 have been perfectly beautiful, for dear uncle's kind 
 letter and pretty present of most becoming gold orna- 
 ments had done her a great deal of good, undoubtedly."" 
 
 " Did you read the Earl's letter?" 
 
 *' I was so hurried I could scarcely read it, but I 
 know he said he was sorry he could not give his pretty 
 niece away to a worthy man, and he thought it would 
 have been a sad thing if she had been an old maid, 
 whilst her mamma was waiting to find her a duke." 
 
 " Umph ! — umph ! — was it written in the Earl's 
 hand?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, mamma — and the box of ornaments, 
 though plain gold, were so good, Louisa said she was 
 sure the Countess had no hand in sending them." 
 
 " She is no fool in that conclusion, fool as she has 
 been in other and more material affairs."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Mr. Glentworth had not performed kind offices to 
 young Penrhyn by halves. So soon as the articles of 
 partnership were signed, the expected amount of half 
 a year's income was advanced to him, with which he 
 proceeded to furnish a small, but pretty, house in the 
 vicinity of London, lying nearest to his counting- 
 house, and possessing a flower-garden, which he knew 
 to be the greatest possible desideratum to Louisa. 
 
 During the week they spent at Windsor all their 
 necessary furniture was sent in ; the more ornamental 
 articles it was decided to leave to the choice of the fair 
 mistress, and, as she had no visits to pay or receive, 
 the occupation it gave Louisa saved her from any 
 mortification she might have felt on sinking at once 
 into the state of happy wifehood. In truth, it was a 
 period of most delightful existence ; for she had dear 
 Isabella''s gift, untouched, in her pocket, as she dared 
 not mention it in her mother's house, nor even before 
 the Palmers ; and she had, therefore, the pleasure of 
 spending it in purchasing those things Charles had 
 personally a liking for, either in adorning his house or 
 his wife. To surprise him, by finding on his table the
 
 200 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 books he liked, or the escritoire he had occasion for, 
 gave Louisa the most deHghtful moments hfe had 
 hitherto afforded her ; and could she have shown her 
 sisters her pretty dwelling, her clever contrivances, 
 and communicated to them her own felicity in the 
 smile of her beloved husband, so complete, or rather 
 so overflowing, would she have considered her happi- 
 ness, perhaps she would have been alarmed for its 
 continuance, and, like Philip of Macedon, prayed for 
 a small misfortune to counterbalance her excess of 
 
 joy- 
 
 This necessary counterpoise, the aft'ectionate and 
 simple-minded will readily conceive, would arise to 
 Louisa from the absence of those " dear familiar faces'^ 
 which had hitherto constituted her world. The love of 
 sisters is not only a pure and holy thing, but there are 
 situations in life when it is rendered an intense affec- 
 tion. Such w^as the case with the Granard family — 
 they had no father whom " to love, honour, and obey '^ 
 mother was to them 
 
 " A word of fear, 
 
 Alarming to the dauijhter's ear ;" 
 
 and they had no brother on whom they could lavish 
 the confiding tenderness of their hearts, exult in his 
 success, mourn in his disappointments, and follow him 
 in imagination throug-h the bright and busy world, 
 from which they were otherwise excluded. No ! to 
 the sisterhood, exclusively, was every sister attached, 
 in all the joys and sorrows, w^ants and wishes, which
 
 Lady anne granard. 201 
 
 belonged to their situation ; and, although the early 
 disappointment of their eldest, and^ perhaps, best be- 
 loved, together with those opinions and fears of Lady 
 Anne, too freely expressed, led them all to think more 
 on the subjects of love and marriage than a wiser and 
 worthier mother would have deemed desirable, the 
 very circumstance only bound them more closely to 
 each other. " Mamma desired to get rid of them, but 
 they could never desire to part with each other/' and 
 each felt that the man who would really win her heart 
 and secure her gratitude must do it by being good to 
 her sisters. It, therefore, followed that Mr. Glent- 
 worth was the idolized of both Georgiana and Helen 5 
 his conduct was the standard by which they were pre- 
 pared to measure all other men ; and, since it would 
 have been difficult to find a higher, to a certain point 
 the wishes of the mother were answered, althougli 
 from different motives and with different views to her 
 own. 
 
 When Lady Anne ceased '' to nurse her wrath and 
 keep it warm,'* she began to congratulate herself on 
 her situation ; her family was lessened more than half 
 — her two eldest and her youngest daughter (the one 
 she had always concluded to be so plain that she would 
 remain as a kind of perpetual bhster) were actually 
 gone, since it was hardly to be expected that Mary 
 would be returned on her Imnds by a brother-in-law 
 60 Ukely to derive benefit in her councils to his young 
 wife as Mr. Glentworth. No ; three were actually 
 
 K 5
 
 202 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 removed, and two daughters were not a burthen to 
 complain of, especially as both might be considered 
 very pretty and still improving, Helen being twenty, 
 and Georgiana eighteen. They could take it by turns 
 to drive out with her ; somebody might now and then 
 give them boxes for the Opera, and they could treat 
 themselves to the Exhibition, or a Panorama ; ** it 
 would not be difficult to get tolerably cheap, yet smart, 
 dresses for two girls, though five had been overwhelm- 
 ing, and a woman looked well in company with two 
 fair daughters. They were easily rendered picturesque, 
 and the dullest man alive might say something smart 
 about the Rotheles' earldom and the Oxford supporters; 
 happily, Louisa could never appear in the same circle 
 with herself and the girls, either to eclipse them by the 
 brilliance of her beauty, or remind the world of her 
 own degradation by a foolish marriage." 
 
 As these thoughts passed Lady Anne's mind, of 
 course the power of increased expenditure, of launch- 
 ing out a little, and appearing somewhat more like 
 herself, followed the train, and she began eagerly to 
 look round at what she had lately designated her 
 " circle ;" it was certainly not like that " which a 
 stone divides,'* for, of late years, it had become so 
 contracted, that, if she were at this time to make a 
 feast, alias, give a dinner, there would be a necessity 
 to go forth into the highways and hedges of the haut 
 ton, " to compel them to come in," nothing loath, as 
 people ar J usually found in society of all descriptions.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 203 
 
 An evening party would be better ; though the " dear 
 five hundred friends" could not be found, yet fifty 
 might ! — a house still redolent with the eclat of two 
 weddings, one of which had so wealthy a bridegroom, 
 that he made the fortunes of the other, could not fail 
 to be attractive to mothers and daughters, young men 
 who wanted help in new connexions, and middle-aged 
 men rich enough to buy wives of all descriptions. 
 '' Yes ! the deed must be done. Lady Penrhyn should 
 see that she was not a woman to sit down and weep 
 iinder the load of disgrace brought upon her house by 
 her own handsome, penniless, brother." 
 
 Of course she must see it with her own eyes, for, 
 although each lady felt as if the close union of their 
 families had confirmed for ever the long-increasing 
 contempt, and, in fact, personal dislike, each felt for 
 the other ; yet, as they had had no quarrel, and were, 
 as heretofore, dependent on each other for certain 
 good offices neither could forego, it was evident, Lady 
 Penrhyn must be the *' bright particular star " of 
 LaJy Anne Granard's party. And yet there were so 
 many palpable objections to this, that it appeared 
 pretty nearly worth while to make an open breach, 
 whilst the opportunity was so invitingly accommoda- 
 ting, rather than incur the many evils attendant on 
 her presence. First and foremost, she was beautiful, 
 dressed well, and very expensively, and, from the ex- 
 ercise of her allowed talents, never failed to give the 
 uninitiated an idea that she was the woman of fashion
 
 204 LADY ANNE GRANAKD. 
 
 par excellence. Even among the most experienced 
 and discriminating of men, she rarely allowed the elite 
 of the high-born or distinguished to escape her tem- 
 porary allurements, so that she was the absolute 
 horror, alike of the designing, whose baits she ren- 
 dered nugatory, and the innocent attached ones, whose 
 expectations she blighted, and w^hose young hearts 
 were lacerated by the perfidy of those whom she misled. 
 Of course she was a dangerous woman, from whom 
 many would shrink, and certainly not one to whom 
 Lady Anne could for a moment commit her daughters, 
 either on the score of friendship, or example. Of the 
 former there was little fear, for she had neither in- 
 vited nor noticed anv one of them more than she could 
 help, and poor Louisa had been her aversion, evidently 
 on the score of that resplendent beauty, which belongs 
 exclusively to its youthfulness. Lady Penrhyn was 
 quite handsome enough to have spared one ingredient 
 in her cup of fascination, but, unfortunately, having 
 been married in her teens, she expected to live in 
 them, and, never being reminded by the trials to which 
 her sex is subject, of the flight of years, and the in- 
 roads of suffering, expected time to stand still, and 
 the first bloom of existence (the blue on the plum) to 
 remain as stationary as lier own taste, for the plea- 
 sures of flirtation. 
 
 In addition to these unamiable characteristics which 
 insured a certainty that she w^ould thwart any good 
 fortune likely to befall her remaining daughters, Lady
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 205 
 
 Anne already knew that her brother and her brotlier's 
 guide and controller, his countess, would not fail to re* 
 sent so open a defiance of their advice, as must be im- 
 plied by her invitation of a woman whose conduct drew 
 upon her the animadversions of "all her acquaintance, 
 and who had openly discarded her only brother for 
 making a connexion to which they had given decided 
 approbation, and, which, being with the daughter of 
 Lady Anne, eould hardly be considered as respectful 
 to her rank and connexions. 
 
 On the other hand, although she had not to thank 
 Lady Penrhyn's kindness for any thing, she was 
 obliged to her situation for great conveniences of many 
 kinds. Lady Penrhyn'*s horses saved post-horses, her 
 tickets of all kinds were convenient passports to the 
 opera and the theatre, and the recherche dinners which 
 preceded those amusements, and almost always hap- 
 pened when the cold leg of mutton would do very well 
 for the girls and the servants, but would compel her 
 to have recourse to the hotel, were by no means mat- 
 ters to be slighted. When to this was added the state 
 dinners, to which she was always regularly invited, and 
 held as a distinguished guest, and it was remembered 
 how seldom this occurred in other houses since her 
 widowhood, the vacillating mind took a new direction, 
 and it was voted an impracticable thing to part with 
 the baroness and her atmosphere of agremens. 
 
 " You appear to be thinking very deeply, dear 
 mamma," said Helen; *' suppose we go over the way»
 
 206 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer is always glad to see us, and you will be 
 better without our interruption." 
 
 " You are right, child, go ; it is just about her tea 
 time. There are more unlikely things than that I 
 should follow you.'* 
 
 Happy and thankful, the dear young creatures 
 obeyed in a trice, for they were impatient to tell their 
 excellent friend that they had confessed, and were 
 forgiven ; and they were heard with the more pleasure, 
 because Mrs. Palmer could inform them " that the 
 paragraph which had made so happy a change in the 
 feelings of Lady Anne had been written and paid for 
 by her son Gooch, who was really a very clever hand 
 at almost every thing.'* 
 
 "Paid for?"" exclaimed the girls at the same mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, my dears, every thing in this 
 world is paid for in one kind of coin or other : the 
 newspaper people owe Mr. Gooch no obligation, there- 
 fore were quite certain to take his money, and he had 
 a right to indulge himself in such a thing, surely, as 
 much as in buying a toy for his little boy." 
 
 " But I hope mamma will never know that Mr. 
 Gooch ." 
 
 Just then Lady Anne entered, all smiles and gra- 
 ciousness. The matter in question explained itself, 
 for the newspaper was in Helen's hand. " 1 came in 
 to beg a cup of tea, Mrs. Palmer, not to inquire into 
 a secret, but I cannot help comprehending from the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 207 
 
 words which have just dropped from my daughter that 
 I am indebted to Mr. Gooch for giving so good a 
 turn to the paragraph announcing Louisa's shocking 
 marriage ?*" 
 
 *' It is all true, and, therefore, drawn up as it ought 
 to be," said Mr. Palmer. " And I hope before long 
 to hear you say that so far from being a shocking 
 thing, your new relation is really a son to you, 
 and r 
 
 '' Well, well, it may be so some time, but I must 
 consult with you, dear Mrs. Palmer, on a subject of 
 importance to me, and in which I must throw myself 
 on your assistance as a friend and neighbour. I am, 
 as you know, quite out of the way of giving parties, 
 and that kind of thing, but at this time I find myself 
 (for the sake of my daughters, of course) under the 
 necessity of being ' at home ' some evening before 
 the month is out." 
 
 '^ Any thing we have that can be useful ; and we 
 can spare the butler and footman both, can't we, my 
 dear ?" 
 
 '* Certainly," said Mrs. Palmer 5 "but I appre- 
 hend the cook is a more material person ; but, per- 
 haps, Lady Anne will order things from some of those 
 great confectioners who undertake suppers at so much 
 a head : it is, I believe, the best and quietest way a 
 good deal.'" 
 
 *' It was the way I did once,'' said Lady Anne, 
 with a deep sighy '' but that which I can certainly do
 
 208 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 no longer. I think supper tables may be laid in the 
 rooms below for fifty, and I shall not invite more than 
 sixty. I mean to give something as slight and inex- 
 pensive as possible ; but I have been so long out of the 
 way of these things, that I am really quite at a loss, 
 and must throw myself on your kindness, as I hope you 
 will be with me, and also Mr. and Mrs. Gooch. You 
 must arrange in such a manner as not to blush for 
 your own contrivances." 
 
 '' Surely,^' thought Mrs. Palmer, " she is making 
 this party on Louisa's account, and very properly she 
 judges, but why can't she say so ? God help her ! she 
 hardly knows how to manage it consistent with her 
 rank and her narrow income." 
 
 It was a great relief when the kind-hearted woman 
 heard her husband say : — 
 
 " When my daughters were at home, Mrs. Palmer 
 used to make up very pretty quadrille parties, 1 must 
 say, and she is a very good hand at arranging tables, 
 and that kind of thing. I remember I was always ap- 
 plied to for one thing — 'Papa will buy the cakes. 
 Oh, yes, nobody chooses cakes so well f^s papa.*" 
 
 " Well, my dear, and so you did, though you al- 
 ways got tliem in the city." 
 
 '* Well, then, Lady Anne, if you think well of it, 
 and will let me know the day you will want them, 1 
 will take charge of the cake department, including, if 
 I remember rightly, plum and plain, rout cakes, and 
 macaroons, finger biscuits, and cracknels."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 209 
 
 '* Excellent I" cried his wife, " you have your lesson 
 perfectly : and, as our cook really makes better jellies 
 than I meet with any where else, I will undertake to 
 provide a sufficiency of them. We can also manage 
 to roast fowls and boil tongues when Lady Anne sends 
 them in ; dear heart ! it is no joke to feed fifty or sixty 
 people, at one o'clock in the morning." 
 
 " Now I call the eating nothing," said Mr. Palmer, 
 *' but the wine makes a great hole in a lady's stock : 
 she finds a single evening take ' at one fell swoop* 
 what would have rendered her comfortable for a 
 twelvemonth."" 
 
 Lady Anne sighed, as she said, '* I must do as well 
 as I can. I think sherry is more drank than any thing 
 now-a-days, and I have a little of that — some Bucellas, 
 too, which I got for the children. Unfortunately, I 
 parted with my wine at Granard Park to the heir — I 
 thought I should never want wine then.'* 
 
 Mr. Palmer had known what it was to lose life's 
 dearest connexion ; and the soft cadence with which 
 Lady Anne alluded to her feelings as a widow awakened 
 all the sympathy of his generous nature, and he eagerly 
 cried out, 
 
 *' You will do very well, my lady, very well indeed. 
 I will send you in a couple of dozen of capital sherry, fit 
 for the dons, and some hermitage, by no means to be 
 sneezed at ; any thing will do for dancing misses and 
 masters ; but, in every party, there are some people who 
 know what's what.'*
 
 210 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to add, that Lady Anne was 
 so very obliging as to stay and partake the scalloped 
 oysters and negus of her neighbours ; but it is, so to 
 say, that Mrs. Palmer, although the most artless of 
 human beings, in the exercise of a sound understanding 
 and a kind heart, so wound round the self-love of the 
 offended mother, that she obtained Louisa's forgive- 
 ness, a promise of receiving herself and husband the 
 following week, and a permission that they should con- 
 sider the projected entertainment as the medium of 
 presenting them to the world in a respectable point of 
 view. 
 
 It is true the pardon was granted with so many pre- 
 cautions and conclusions, especially as regarded the poor 
 bridegroom, that, if delivered as it was received, rer- 
 batim et liberatim, Mrs. Palmer could not fail to be 
 assured it would be rejected, not only by the gentle- 
 man, but the fond wife, who honoured not less than she 
 loved him. She well knew the power of intonation, 
 and thought that, in the absence of the curled lip, the 
 contemptuous twitch of the nose, and the supercilious 
 toss of the head, her message might be acceptable for 
 Louisa''s sake, and she set out the following morning, 
 accompanied by Helen and Georgiana, actually as 
 happy as either of Mem, which is something to say, for 
 the power of young Joy, like that of young Love, does 
 not travel far on tiie dusty road of life in general. 
 
 Louisa had completed her furnishing vocation, and 
 so nearly arrived at the bottom of her purse, that
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 211 
 
 Charles had positively, though most kindly, insisted 
 that she should treat him no further that very morn- 
 ing ; she had ba,de him adieu with even more than her 
 usual fondness, and looked towards him long after she 
 had ceased to see him, and began to think how many 
 hours must pass before she should speak either to him 
 or any other person, when the sound of wheels caused 
 her to look up, and become sensible that a carriage was 
 approaching either her own house, or that to which it 
 was united by a bondage not unlike that of the Sia- 
 mese twins. 
 
 It was Mrs. Palmer's coach — '' dear, good Mrs. Pal- 
 mer." Before the bell could be rung, she had stepped 
 through the casement-window, which opened into her 
 little front grassplot, and flown to open the garden 
 door. With what transports did she behold the faces 
 of her sisters ! how soon were they all held in the arms 
 and to the hearts of each other ! 
 
 Yet Louisa looked beyond them, but she could not 
 look beyond Mrs- Palmer, who slowly descended the 
 steps, for her eyes were full of delicious tears, as she 
 gazed on the lovely group, and congratulated herself 
 on having brought them together. In another mo- 
 ment, Louisa's arms were around her also, welcoming 
 her to Violet Lodge, and pouring on her a thousand 
 thanks, yet asking, with trepidation, ** have you brought 
 the dear girls clandestinely ?*' 
 
 " No, my dear child ; I brought them from Lady 
 Anne's house, with her full permission ; and, what
 
 212 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 is better, I bring an invitation for you and Mr, 
 Penrhyn." 
 
 Louisa burst into a passion of hysterical, though 
 joyful tears. 
 
 " These children's father had undoubtedly a heart 
 in his bosom, which the mother never had, though she 
 took Palm in last night. Yes ! the father was ami- 
 able, and gave these sweet children his own nature. 1 
 trust he is happy now, for I am sure he had a very 
 scanty share of happiness whilst he lived with Lady 
 Anne." Such were the wandering thoughts of Mrs. 
 Palmer, as she entered the abode of the newly- united.
 
 I..ADy ANNE GRANARO, ^13 
 
 CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 Never was house so admired and praised as Louisa's, 
 and never husband so lauded as hers, when her emo- 
 tion had passed by, and her tongue resumed its func- 
 tion ; and if she could have given just such a partner, 
 such a house, and such prospects as her own to each 
 sister, she would have been satisfied that the world 
 contained no other being so happy, save Isabella, who, 
 in helping all, had a right to be happier than any, 
 Charles said that letters might now be every day ex- 
 pected, and her anxiety to hear of the safety of the 
 travellers was become her only one : hitherto, she had 
 been, of course, uneasy under mamma's displeasure. 
 
 Alas ! how seldom are any of us quite happy at the 
 passing moment. 
 
 Two golden hours, in which the astonishing news of 
 the intended party was revealed to Louisa, with all of 
 its contrivances, expenses, and mitigations, so far as 
 they were elucidtited, were given and said to be '* done 
 in her honour ;" but of this the young wife doubted ; 
 nor could she help shaking her head, in a prognosti- 
 cating manner. She said, " she knew what housekeep- 
 ing cost, for she had a book, in which she put down
 
 214 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 every thing ; and, although she had only a footman 
 and a cook, and had only received the partners of her 
 husband and their ladies once to dinner, it had shewn 
 her clearly what mamma could do, and what she could 
 not do, and she deprecated the party in every respect, 
 save as it would introduce her kind friend Mrs. Gooch 
 to a circle which she had repeatedly said " she should 
 like to see once in her life or so." 
 
 '* But, surely," said Georgiana, '^you should be glad 
 on our account. We have no good Mr. Glentworth now 
 to take us any where ; and our little home-circle is so 
 much thinned, we want some amusement from without. 
 We are not like you, expecting a husband at dinner- 
 time, who will sit with us all the evening." 
 
 "Well, my love, that is all very true," replied Louisa, 
 colouring with the consciousness of being a great mo- 
 nopolist ; " but I cannot help fearing more pain will 
 arise to you eventually than the pleasure is worth ; 
 and I trust, that when mamma has once received us, 
 she will allow you to come here frequently, as you are 
 not afraid of a long walk ; and if she cannot spare the 
 page to attend you, I can send William, and dear 
 Charles himself can drive you home in his cab ; nobody 
 will see you are three by lamplight. Oh ! T foresee 
 so much pleasure for us all. But who is mamma going 
 to invite .?" 
 
 " I have heard her mention very few names. Sir 
 Henry Calthorpe, your Brighton lover, was the first, 
 which I thought very indelicate, considering he would
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 215 
 
 meet as a bride the girl who refused him. 'Tis true 
 she did not know it '* 
 
 " She means him to become your suitor, Helen, be- 
 cause you are very like me, you know, so be on your 
 guard. He is a silly young man, and not a very good 
 one ; you must not have him-^marriage is a very seri- 
 ous thing.'^ 
 
 " Lord and Lady Allerton mamma named also." 
 
 ''I don't know which of them I dislike most — they 
 were the ruin of our dear Mary's peace of mind, and 
 her constitution also/* 
 
 " Sir William and Lady Anstey, their son and two 
 daughters, she named, and the Marquess of Went- 
 worthdale ; two Mr. Allingh^ms, whom she has met 
 at Lord Penrhyn's ; Colonel Hawthornden and Mr. 
 Rickmansworth, the barrister ; Mrs. Ryall and her 
 sister.'" 
 
 " But she wants, of all things, some kind of a lion," 
 cried Helen, " a Turk, or a Rajah, dressed in satin, 
 who eats with his fingers, or she would put up with a 
 distinguished author, I believe, if she could get one ; 
 or the Chinese lady, or a Welch harper, if he had 
 white, silky hair. She would rather have Sir William 
 Honeywood Hales Courtenay than any body, a great 
 deal ; but he is in prison, and they won't let him out, 
 dear heart ! What with his moustachios, his long 
 beard, his richly embroidered crimson dress, and his 
 Maltese cross and sword, he would be invaluable." 
 
 " He is mad, perfectly mad !" cried Louisa.
 
 S16 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " But he is no worse for that, mamma says/* 
 
 " Poor soul !" ejaculated Mrs. Palmer, "she must 
 be far gone herself/' 
 
 " Such a person would save paying singers, which she 
 can ill afford," said Helen ; '' and surely it would be 
 folly to afford them, in any case, with a daughter who 
 can warble a simple ballad as well as you, and another 
 who can sing duets with mine most delightfully. You 
 have no idea how well Mrs. Penrhyn and Mrs. Gooch 
 sing together ; the first has the finer voice, the last 
 the better instruction ; but they manage admirably 
 together," said Mrs. Palmer. 
 
 While these observations were passing, at the 
 happy dwelling of the lately proscribed daughter, 
 her mother, in a state of great perturbation, wrote 
 and re-wrote note after note, to her dear friend Lady 
 Penrhyn, all of which were meant, in fact, to say, " I 
 invite you earnestly, but I hope you won't come." It 
 is a very difficult thing for the most cunning, w'hen 
 they say one thing and mean another, to hide their 
 wishes from one as practised as themselves ; and an 
 awkward thing to commit yourselves in writing at all 
 where a secret or a scheme is concerned. Lady Anne 
 had just determined to abandon all writing, save the 
 common routine card-call upon her friend, and leave 
 to the chances of conversation tlie impression she de- 
 sired to make, wlien a knock was heard, and, in another 
 moment, as if she had possessed the power " to call 
 spirits from the vasty deep"' of luxury, Lady Penrhyn 
 stood before her.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 217 
 
 " I have been dying to see you," said the beauty, 
 '^for I knew, of course, you were completely au deses- 
 poir ; that wretched paragraph would destroy your 
 nerves." 
 
 *' Not in the least ; I saw it was an abbreviation 
 from the first annunciation of the marriage, as com- 
 municated by the earl of Rotheles ; here it is." 
 
 Lady Penrhyn glanced her eye over the paper, and 
 said, " Could you spare me this, just to shew Penrhyn ? 
 The fact is, he is perfectly lost for want of Charles, 
 and, of course, very cross ; which was the reason I 
 could not get to you before ; and, in the course of 
 his pets and his papers, he has really gone abominable 
 lengths in abusing the poor fellow for making such 
 a low connection." 
 
 " Low connection ! — lotv .'"" cried Lady Anne, with 
 an absolute shriek ; '' the granddaughter of the Earl 
 of Rotheles termed low by a baron of two descents ! 
 this is beyond bearing." 
 
 " Not low^ my dear creature ; that is not the word ; 
 but imprudent, poor, a mere love-match, a positive 
 irremediable, ruinous affair." 
 
 " The Earl of Rotheles is of a very different way of 
 thinking ; he "Supposes that a young man, with next 
 to nothing, that marries a young woman of family, who 
 takes him from the beggary of dependence and secures 
 him an increasing income, which begins with a thou- 
 sand per ann., may be termed " is, fortunate youth." 
 
 *' But, supposing this is the case, the income is de- 
 rived from trade; it is the consequence of degradation." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " The degradation which made my son-in-law, Mr. 
 Glentworth, the possessor of uncounted thousands, and 
 enables him to support your brother. Lady Penrhyn, 
 who will find him a somewhat kinder patron than your 
 husband, I have a notion ; he will not upbraid him 
 on the score of gaining a place of a hundred and fifty 
 pounds a-year, well earned by his drudgery in his 
 lordship's service. Shockingly as my daughter has 
 thrown herself away, I must say I have pitied Charles 
 a thousand times, and always considered him an 
 amiable, ill-used young man." 
 
 '' As to Louisa throwing herself away on my brother. 
 Lady Anne Granard, it is too ridiculous. Charles 
 has five thousand pounds of his own, which, I am told, 
 he has settled on his wife ; those very people men- 
 tioned as their friends being her trustees ; and when 
 my father's second wife dies, he will have an estate of 
 eight hundred a year, hitherto tied up to pay her join- 
 ture and my two younger sisters' fortunes ; and with 
 his person and connections you must yourself see he 
 might have done better." 
 
 " As to person, my daughter's pretensions may 
 surely " 
 
 Lady Anne checked herself, for she heard a car- 
 riage stop at th»; door, and her daughters enter the 
 house ; and she had not made up her mind as to the 
 turn she should give to their conciliatory visit. In fact, 
 both ladies had, in the course of their recriminatory 
 dialogue, seen so clearly, that in worldly matters the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 219 
 
 couple in question were most equally matched, and 
 neither of them could doubt so happily, that they found 
 it a difficult thing not to own the truth so near their 
 lips ; and when the sisters, too happy to contain their 
 joy and gratitude, broke on the angry tete-a-tete, their 
 cold hearts and laboured malignity, to their own asto- 
 nishment, gave way before the genuine atmosphere of 
 better feelings. 
 
 " Oh ! mamma, thank you a thousand times for 
 letting us go ; Louisa is so very thankful, and so very 
 happy !" 
 
 " But she did cry so hard when she first saw us and 
 became aware of your kindness, that it would have 
 made any body else cry.*" 
 
 " Very sentimental, indeed ! Then it seems she is 
 forgiven?" said Lady Penrhyn. 
 
 " It would not do for me to oppose Lord Rotheles, 
 as you very well know," answered Lady Anne. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't blame you at all ; Lord Penrhyn has 
 vexed me so much that I mean to see Charles before 
 long, I assure you ; for, after all, he is my only bro- 
 ther — pray, what kind of a crib did you find them 
 stuffed into ?' 
 
 " Cri b ! indeed, it is the prettiest little house that 
 ever was beheld.*" 
 
 " With a greengrocer's repository on one side, and 
 a coalshed on the other ?" 
 
 " There is nothing of the kind even within view,** 
 cried Helen, warmly, " nor any one object that could 
 
 l2
 
 220 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 offend the most fastidious eye, as Mrs. Palmer ob- 
 served ; a duchess might dehght in it ; every thing is 
 so clean without, and so good within : such beautiful 
 carpets and rugs to match ! such handsome chiffo- 
 niers, and elegant books ! it does one good to look at 
 them ; and Louisa herself", the prettiest thing of all ; 
 her bright hair in bands, and altogether such a sweet 
 coiffure ! How very lovely she is !^' 
 
 " And how yoodV chimed in Helen ; ^' she under- 
 stands the necessity for care, and the duties of a wife, 
 and she does so love her husband — you can't think !'* 
 A sneer came over the faces of both ladies, as the 
 word "love" was pronounced; yet each said in her 
 heart, " it is not, in her case, a bad thing to love, 
 seeing she cannot be unmarried now ;**' but the dowager 
 observed, in a cold tone — 
 
 " I beg you will not admire the romantic, young 
 ladies ; for, depend upon it, I shall never give way to 
 it. If circumstances induce me to admit your sister 
 and Mr. Penrhyn to visit here occasionally^ let it be 
 always understood that, although I may pardon, yet I 
 shall never approve their union ; it is one thing to 
 bear a misfortune with fortitude, and another to en- 
 courage its repetition.*' 
 
 The poor girls curtseyed, and withdrew to their own 
 cheerless apartments, where alone they could luxuriate 
 in another's happiness — that other, their blooming and 
 beloved Louisa. Wliilst thinking or talking over all 
 those little particulars in her situation, which ap-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 221 
 
 peared like gems on the brow of beauty, diffusing 
 brilliance as a whole, yet each possessing an individual 
 value, they alike seemed to think that the happiest 
 thing belonging to her was the power of hearing from 
 Isabella and Mary most frequently. '' You see," said 
 Georgiana, '' Charles will have letters from Mr. Glent- 
 worth, and Louisa letters from our sisters, at the same 
 time ; and, between the two, they will learn every 
 thing that belongs to them : they will, as it were, eat 
 at the same table, dress in the same colours, see the 
 same things, and think with the same thoughts ; how 
 happy Louisa will be ! she will have her old friends in 
 her new home." 
 
 Of course, the poor girl knew little of those missives 
 called " letters of business," which, although tliey di- 
 rect all the great affairs of mankind, and are constantly 
 employed in sending forth or recalling that mighty 
 power which commands men, controls circumstances, 
 constitutes the sinews of war and the charm of peace, 
 has little to do in wafting either a smile or " sigh from 
 Indus to the Pole." Little did they dream in how few 
 lines might be given all that their two brothers-in-law 
 were likely to say to each other. The free pen, prone 
 to pour out the suggestions of artless affection, vivid 
 imagination, or domestic anecdote, is as much woman's 
 especial instrument as the needle : how many heavy 
 hours have been lightened by both ? how much plea- 
 sure has the former communicated to others ? how often 
 has the latter tranquillized the spirits, or diverted the 
 anxieties of her own heart I
 
 222 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 So delighted were the dear girls with their visit, that 
 the grand affair of the party was actually forgotten ; 
 for, cribbed and stinted in all the common pleasures of 
 their age and station, they were wont to live much on 
 the heart ; and their unavoidable loss of two sisters, 
 and more especially Louisa''s supposed uneasiness and 
 enforced estrangement, had rendered them exceedingly 
 solicitous respecting her ; and at this time she might 
 be said to " engross them wholly." Not so their lady- 
 mother, who was at this very juncture managing to 
 start her scheme of a party in such a manner, that the 
 idea appeared to proceed from Lady Penrhyn, who ho- 
 nestly confessed '* that her curiosity was exceedingly 
 excited on the subject of how the couple in question 
 appeared since their degradation, and whether they 
 actually retained the power of looking any body in the 
 face who was really somebody. 
 
 " Besides," she added, "though it is a weakness, and 
 certainly the last in the world a woman in my circle 
 ought to indulge, to you, my dear Lady Anne, who 
 cannot, under existing circumstances, condemn me for 
 it, I may say there is something awkward, even painful, 
 in losing sight all at once, in so disagreeable a way, of 
 your only brother — one who in childhood was, from 
 the death of our mother, consigned to my especial ten- 
 derness, and who is really of so sweet a temper, so 
 cheerful a disposition, loved me so well, and for my 
 sake exerted himself so much, and has borne so much 
 (I may say) from Lord Penrhyn, that altogether I find
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 223 
 
 it by no means agreeable to hold him in the light of a 
 banished man, and should rejoice to meet him in any 
 house but my own." 
 
 " I am sure 1 would get up a little affair on purpose 
 to enable you to do so, dear Lady Penrhyn ; but, in 
 my narrow circumstances (to you I do not hesitate to 
 refer to them), it is an object, I confess ; and, when one 
 has few servants and few things, the hiring of plate, 
 and so forth, becomes very expensive, you know." 
 
 *' Don't hesitate on that account, I beseech you ; let 
 Fanchette come in a hackney-coach in the morning, 
 and I will direct the housekeeper to send you something 
 of every thing — plate, candlesticks, lamps, damask — 
 and you won't take it amiss if we should happen to have 
 game or poultry come up that I put that amongst 
 the conveniences ; and I am sure you will permit me 
 to invite a friend or two, for you know I only deal with 
 choice spirits, the elite of the beau mondey 
 
 Much as Lady Anne had rejoiced in the ruse which 
 had so materially assisted her plans, yet these latter 
 words produced a kind of cold trickling through her 
 frame ; she remembered the Countess of Rotheles's ad- 
 vice, and she well knew the very pointed words and 
 looks Lady Allerton could assume when it suited her 
 humour to be censorious, and was well aware that every 
 particular of the evening's entertainment would be 
 transmitted with a jaundiced tint to Rotheles Castle 
 for the amusement and animadversion of her invalid 
 brother. He must see the propriety of young Pen-
 
 224 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 rhyn's being well with his brother-in-law, who was 
 known to be well with the ministry, and, of course, 
 of meeting with his sister; therefore, if she would 
 forego her usual habits, and especially relinquish a 
 certain Russian count attached to the embassy, who 
 had succeeded the late German baron, all would be 
 well ; but, if she persisted in drawing attention and 
 awakening scandal, there was no saying where the mis- 
 chief would stop. 
 
 That the countess knew her brother, the earl, made 
 an addition to her income she was well aware, but she 
 was not less so that the lady did not know to what 
 amount, and she trusted the secret would remain un- 
 divulged ; nevertheless, it had struck her as by no means 
 unlikely, that the amiable lady in question might sug- 
 gest the propriety of diminishing her allowance (be it 
 either small or large) now her family was diminished, 
 and, of course, dreaded exposing herself by any possi- 
 ble error of conduct to such an event. Hastily ar- 
 ranging her necessities, her wishes, her fears, and her 
 desires, she thus began to address the dear friend she 
 ahke dreaded, despised, and persevered in attaching to 
 herself and her measures : — 
 
 " Bring any one you deem a desir able par H, of course, 
 but allow me to observe, dear Lady Penrbyn,that " 
 
 «• Yes ! I see, that they must be really cre?7ie a la 
 creme. I know all that, because you are compelled to 
 ask what Mary Wolstonecraft, in days gone by, would 
 term * the square -elbowed, family drudge,' Mrs. Pal-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 225 
 
 mer, and her furbelowed daughters-in-law, who will 
 probably carry enough of the scarlet fever about them, 
 to remind you unpleasantly of the officiousness which 
 preserved the lives of three daughters, when two might 
 have been parted with advantageously enough." 
 
 '•'You never were a mother, my dear friend, or " 
 
 " Or I should have been glad to part with the whole 
 garland of roses wherewith Fate had crowned me. 
 No, thank Heaven I like the fat king, once so enchant- 
 ing and afterwards so abdominal, I have no predilections 
 save for the distinguishing few who love to bask in 
 mes beaux yeux. However, depend upon it, any per- 
 sons I may bring, or cause to come, will be the very 
 exquisites de la societe, and will sweeten your city con- 
 nexions, my own poor Charles among the rest — him 
 for whom my affections had often ambitioned a far dif- 
 ferent fate." 
 
 "• Allow me to say, that if your ladyship could con- 
 trive to bear his company one whole evening, it might 
 have the happiest effects. Count Beniowskoff would 
 be reduced to despair, and withdraw his attentions. 
 Strangers would give you the credit of attracting a fine 
 young man, even in his honeymoon, with a very 
 charming woman ; and friends would praise you for 
 showing that family affection often exhibited by roy- 
 alty itself, and always to be admired and approved in 
 the daughter of a mere country gentleman." 
 
 Poor Lady Anne ! the three last words lost her all 
 the benefit of her previous harangue. Lady Penrhyn. 
 
 l5
 
 226 LADY ANNE GEANARD. 
 
 > 
 
 who had almost determined at once to appear charm* 
 ing as a Circean nymph, yet correct as a vestal, by 
 flirting only with her own handsome brother, recalled 
 by the pride of rank to the memory of her highly- 
 respectable but very remote affinity to aristocracy, de- 
 termined at once to assert the privileges given by na- 
 ture, which, in bestowing the patent of beauty, had 
 outstripped the Herald's Office. With a smile, in which 
 there was more of malice than affection, she hastily 
 bade adieu ; and Lady Anne, for the present, felt as if 
 Fanchette and her coach full of accommodations, heavy 
 as they might once be supposed to be, were suddenly 
 swallowed up in that awful sea, to which so many re- 
 fractory spirits have been exorcised and consigned.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Though Mr. Penrhyn had returned to his dinner at 
 a somewhat late hour, such was the impatience of his 
 lady to be received, and his kind estimate of those 
 feelings in her which he loved to cherish, that when 
 their social and happy meal was over, they set out to 
 Welbeck Street with as little trepidation on the lady's 
 part as could be expected, and as much resolution and 
 patience on that of the gentleman as might be re- 
 quired. He had all the inclination to pay Lady Anne 
 the homage she deemed due to her rank, and tender 
 her the respect himself held due to his wife's mother ; 
 but the fond and deep regard in which that wife was 
 held, his estimation of the probity, sincerity, and sim- 
 plicity of her loving nature, and her sound under- 
 standing, prevented him from esteeming her mother's 
 character, and either acceding to her demands, or ac- 
 knowledging value in her protection. He was now 
 eight and twenty — an age when the nature of man 
 demands independence as necessary to happiness and 
 respectability — he had known what it was, '' in sueing 
 long to bide," though not so long as many ; therefore, 
 he had neither depressed the manliness of his spirit,
 
 228 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 nor soured the kindliness of his temper, although the 
 many fears of a lover had been added to his sohcitude. 
 Either the nature of his own situation, or the company 
 that his mean brother-in-law and his flirting sister 
 called around them, had given him a disgust for political 
 and fashionable society (which is, in fact, very generally 
 to be found in those who are engaged in public offices, 
 conscious that they do the work for which others are 
 paid), so that nothing could be more agreeable to him 
 than the change in his situation effected by Mr. Glent- 
 worth's kindness. That gentleman had discovered that 
 he had not only the industry which enabled him to fulfil 
 his own duties and Lord Penrhyn's also, but talents 
 which could be advantageously employed in a higher 
 sphere, and was well aware that the exercise of his 
 faculties would add to his happiness quite as much as 
 his fortune. He was now proving the truth of these 
 surmises : the situation which had given to his con- 
 stant love the bride of his heart, was, in all its demands, 
 accepted as a gift to be proud of, a station to glory in. 
 What a different man was the responsible merchant — 
 the respectable partner of a long- established house — 
 the happy husband of a lovely, modest, and contented 
 wife — to the young man who filled a place at table as 
 the permitted, not invited, the unrew^arded labourer for 
 an ungrateful taskmaster — the handsome danglejf?^ al- 
 lowed to join in a quadrille, on the condition of being 
 an automaton before and after — the listener to young 
 members, and old women of rank — the person who 
 
 /
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. SS9 
 
 must bore nobody, but wbom every body had a right 
 to bore ! 
 
 What a life for a free man, born to the use of dogs 
 and horses, pure air, and wide-spreading moors ! — 
 . no wonder that, although junior partner, and as modest 
 as he was high-spirited, he trod his counting-house 
 floor with a step vigorous and springy as the young 
 captain of a man-of-war, for he felt that he was an 
 emancipated slave ; nay, more, a British merchant. 
 If not " monarch of all he surveyed," he was certainly 
 monarch of all he desired, which is probably more than 
 any one of those mighty personages who rule mankind 
 could have honestly asserted. 
 
 Lady Anne received her daughter as gracefully, 
 and, perhaps, as affectionately, as she knew how ; and 
 she could not look in the open countenance of Charles 
 without seeing that he was much too happy to be 
 looked into insignificance ; so she made a virtue of 
 necessity, accepted him graciously " as a son who 
 might hereafter be useful to her, seeing she had the 
 misfortune to be the mother of so many daughters 
 who had not a single brother to protect them." She 
 next adverted to the party she was giving on their ac- 
 count, inquired how far it was possible for Louisa to 
 assist her arrangements, which, being ascertained, re- 
 tired to her dressing-room, by no means sorry that the 
 lateness of the hour precluded the necessity of delaying 
 them for refreshments. 
 
 Yet the young couple gladly remained nearly an
 
 230 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 hour afterwards with the dehghted sisters, who natu- 
 rally desired to increase their slight acquaintance with 
 that new relation, who, in hplding Louisa's happiness 
 in his keeping, in a great measure held their's also. 
 The conversation which took place now furnished sub- 
 jects for many days afterwards, to the surprise of Lady 
 Anne, who could not conceive how they could either 
 talk, or think, on any thing but that which had all the 
 charm of novelty to recommend it, and might be the 
 hinge on which it was probable their future fortunes 
 might turn for life. 
 
 The day previous to this important affair, as Mrs. 
 Palmer had by this time discovered that her noble 
 neighbour''s dwelling was as nearly unfurnished in the 
 materials required for that vulgar, but indispensable, 
 operation connected with supper as could be well ima- 
 gined, she summoned the young ladies to choose, from 
 an immense accumulation of old and of modern china, 
 those things they considered the most pretty and use- 
 ful. In this task they were assisted by Mrs. Gooch, 
 who had established herself for the day at her father's, 
 that she might hear '' all about things," concluding 
 (very falsely) that Lady Anne's *' at home" must be 
 very superior to any thing it had hitherto been her lot 
 to witness. That it would have been so in her hus- 
 band's lifetime there is no doubt, though that husband's 
 heart liad been wrunoj to the core in witnessino; it — 
 under '^ existing circumstances," to use her own ex- 
 pression, she must do as well as she could. 
 
 iiiti^\
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 231 
 
 When every thing Hkely to be wanted had been put 
 aside, in order to be taken over the way when night 
 had flung her convenient mantle upon these neigh- 
 bourly doings, the three young people adjourned to 
 the breakfast- room, where Mrs. Palmer was so deeply 
 engaged in reading a newly-received letter, that, to 
 the surprise of all, she did not raise her eyes from the 
 paper to ask '* what they had fixed upon ?" — and, as 
 she proceeded, her continual interjections of '' dear 
 me! — poor creature! — noble fellow!" showed how 
 deeply she was absorbed in the perusal. 
 
 '* What can you have got hold of, mamma ?'* cried 
 Mrs. Gooch ; " you look as anxious as Tom does 
 when an apology comes for delaying payments." 
 
 " Why, my dear, I have got a very kind and really 
 a very interesting letter from a young lord, whom I 
 never expected to remember me." 
 
 *' A young lord ! I never knew you had such an 
 acquaintance !" 
 
 ** Yet you must remember Augusta Hales, for you 
 were very attentive to her." 
 
 " Of course, I remember the poor girl you brought 
 home to die here, when you married papa. I used to 
 think you loved her better than us, which made me 
 angry ; but I loved her myself, notwithstanding. She 
 was a sweet creature, and, as I now recollect, was the 
 Honourable Augusta Hales." 
 
 ** This letter is from her brother Frederic ; a lovely 
 boy he was then — so was his brother Arthur ; but he
 
 S32 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 was younger and noisier, so that I did not let iiim 
 come often, poor dear ; but Frederic was here fre- 
 quently, dear fellow. If you will sit down, (all of 
 you I mean) I will begin the letter again." 
 
 *' ' My dear madam— You will probably have for- 
 gotten me, for you live in the busy world, and you 
 are too much accustcmpd to be kind and good to your 
 fellow-creatures, for a single instance, to dwell much 
 on your memory. I must therefore remind you of my 
 dear sister Augusta Hales, to whom you were as a 
 tender mother, and who died in your arms, in order to 
 say your correspondent is her eldest brother, then 
 little Fred Hales. 
 
 " * Whatever may be your recollection or oblivion of 
 me and mine, it would ill become us to forget you ; 
 and, indeed, dear Mrs. Palmer, we have never done 
 so ; though our long residence in the East, and our 
 many removals since, have forbidden us the pleasure 
 of seeing you ; and it was always the opinion of my 
 dear father (of whose death you would hear) that it 
 was foolish to correspond wuth persons we were never 
 likely to meet again.' 
 
 " ' Arthur is in the navy, and a brave, worthy fellow 
 as ever was born. I am indebted to him for my life 
 within the last few days, but that debt is, in my own 
 opinion, less than what I owe him, for the constant 
 love and kindness of his whole life towards me. I 
 ought not, however, to undervalue the courage and 
 perseverance, through which 1 was rescued, when the
 
 \ 
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 233 
 
 storm ran so high that no reward could induce one 
 man on board to save the gentleman, who, in the con- 
 fusion, fell overboard. I will honestly confess that 
 this circumstance brought you and your kindness 
 more strongly to my mind than might otherwise have 
 been the case. You may perhaps remember my dear 
 sister wove an armlet of her own hair, and that of our 
 buried mother, which she insisted on clasping round 
 my arm ; it had, for a long time, occupied my wrist, 
 though somewhat too wide, and by this memento of 
 her love 1 was actually preserved ; for Arthur, I know 
 not how, got his fingers into it and kept me up. It 
 is true, both would have been lost if two of the very 
 men who had refused to venture for money had not 
 volunteered to rescue him. 
 
 " ' This happened in the Channel during the late 
 gales : we are now ' " 
 
 " I read about it — Tom shewed me the place in the 
 paper w'here the Honourable Lieutenant Hales saved 
 the Viscount Meersbrook, returning from Persia ; but 
 there was not one word about the bracelet ; no, not a 
 syllable P' 
 
 Mrs. Gooch spoke the last words in great anger, 
 and Mrs. Palmer, wiping her eyes, said, " Poor things ! 
 their love and their danger is very affecting ; the 
 bracelet signified nothing.'* 
 
 " Indeed, I think it signified a great deal ; for I 
 helped to weave it myself, that I did, and was sent 
 out of the room when Frederic pulled off his jacket to 
 have it put on ; and 1 am quite sure Lord Meersbrook
 
 234 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 will remember it as well as I do, for he thought it 
 very unnecessary to send me away, and said — but 
 pray go on with the letter." 
 
 As Mrs. Gooch's recollections heightened her colour, 
 Mrs. Palmer took her advice. 
 
 *' ' We are now at the Isle of Wight, and both 
 under medical help, but, as we get better every day, 
 I purpose proceeding to London on the 17th instant, 
 and shall do ourselves the pleasure of seeing you the 
 following morning, as we have the satisfaction of 
 learning, from a friend of yours, (Mr. Mansel, visit- 
 ing Ryde) that you and Mr. Palmer are well, and 
 his fair daughters all married most happily. 
 
 " ' Till then, my dear madam, accept the warm 
 esteem of two young men who will ever hold themselves 
 sincerely obliged to you for your long-continued kind- 
 ness to their still regretted sister, for we are one in all 
 our feelings. With best regards to Mr. Palmer, be- 
 lieve me, your attached friend and servant, 
 
 " * Meeesbrook.' '* 
 " The 1 7th instant ! where can the letter have been 
 laid ? it is put in at Portsmouth ten days after its 
 date ; to-day is the 17th ; they will be here to-morrow. 
 How glad I shall be to see them ! though they will 
 be grown quite out of knowledge, and covered with 
 whiskers like otlier young men, I dare say. No mat- 
 ter ; their hearts are in the right place, whatever they 
 look like. They used to be remarkably like each 
 other in person, and there is scarcely a year between
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 235 
 
 them in age, but there was a difference in their man- 
 ners, certainly. Frederic was gentle, and would sit 
 with a book an hour together by his sister's side. 
 Arthur loved her dearly, but he used to slam the doors 
 and drive the cats about ; he could not be quiet, for 
 the life of him." 
 
 Georgiana and Helen went home so interested by 
 the contents of the letter, that, when they had given 
 an account of the dozens of China plates and dishes, 
 and the complete muster of wine-glasses, goblets, and 
 tumblers looked out, they could not forbear to mention 
 kind Mrs. Palmer's correspondence, or rather her 
 letter from Lord Meersbrook. Lady Anne inclined 
 her ear very seriously to the subject, observing that 
 she knew their mother very well ; " she was a fair 
 woman, yet her hair was raven black, and she was 
 a great Lincolnshire heiress. Of course, her eldest 
 son gets her estates ; the youngest will have nothing. 
 They did very right to put him in the navy, for the 
 father's services were great, and he ought to be 
 pushed. That was matter of chance, however, since 
 Lord Meersbrook could have done nothing for him ; 
 he had been abroad ever since his father's death.'* 
 
 Helen looked at Georgiana, and thought sons were 
 very different to daughters ; " if she were as rich as 
 Lord Meersbrook, Georgiana would have a fortune to- 
 morrow. Dear Mary, too, who was so poorly, and so 
 kind to every one, how delightful it would be to make 
 her independent !"
 
 236 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Her reverie was interrupted by her mamma telling 
 her to run over to Mrs. Palmer, and entreat her to 
 secure the brothers for the following evening. " And 
 do you, Georgy, contrive to tell Penrhyn all the par- 
 ticulars of this drowning affair ; for I remember the 
 bare facts being mentioned at Lord Penrhyn's, and he 
 will tell them with effect, avoiding rhodomontade with- 
 out omitting pathos. I beg you will not relate the 
 circumstance to any other person ; it might place you 
 in an awkward predicament." 
 
 *' I am sure I will obey yuu strictly, dear mamma ; 
 but really I cannot see how it would be possible for 
 any body to reflect on me, who never was in a ship in 
 my life ; what could they say ?" 
 
 " Say ! why the most injurious thing in the world ; 
 if you were to relate the affair in the same words you 
 used to me, and which I expect you to use to Mr. 
 Penrhyn, in the presence of his sister, she would say 
 you were in love with Lieutenant Hales immediately." 
 
 " How shameful, how cruel ! I am sure I never 
 was in love in my life — never ! I think he is a very 
 brave, noble creature, of course ; but I have never 
 seen him.'" 
 
 " I wish you never may," muttered Lady Anne ; 
 but she remembered her lions would be imperfect if 
 divided ; considered their acquisition a most lucky 
 chance at such an advanced period in the season, and 
 could not fail to rejoice in the legitimate reason they 
 afforded for asking the Palmers and their connections.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 237 
 
 Mrs. Gooch was married, and therefore perfectly weL 
 come to the honour of having partly woven the brace- 
 let which saved Lord Meersbrook's life ; but, surely, 
 a little flattery might render her willing to discover 
 that Georgiana had a hand in it. Her husband was 
 evidently a sensible man, and he might have given his 
 wife a little more sense than she could have derived 
 from her downricrht father and her sillv mother-in-law, 
 who were really as great a pair of noodles as ever were 
 exhibited in the pages of a modern novel, under the 
 cognomen of '* amiable rustics." To think of the price 
 they pay, and the charming company they bring ; 
 five pounds in jelly, ten in cakes — for, though he only 
 ofl^ered to order them, I shall allow him to pay for 
 them — two dozen of very fine sherry, and a dozen and 
 half of choice Hermitage, to say nothing of the loan 
 of things innumerable, and the gift of Lord Meers« 
 brook, before any creature has set eyes on him since 
 his drowning, whilst he comes fresh from the East a 
 kind of young Sultan or Cham of Tartary ; and to 
 these gifts surely may be added the power that young 
 Gooch possesses of sending to the journals (which are, 
 nine times out of ten, horrible things, and will even- 
 tually ruin the country) a really elegant, well-written 
 account of the affair. I wonder if he has any ac- 
 quaintance with Fiench history, and can talk of petit 
 soiipers, and the wits and beauties which reigned be- 
 fore the horrible revolution ! I should not wonder 
 if he had, strange as it may seem, and certainly it may
 
 238 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 tell admirably. Miladi la m^re scarcely to be deemed 
 un peu passee being affected by the languor of sorrow, 
 not years (no one allows the effects of time now, which 
 is perfectly proper.) Yes, the whole affair will make 
 a capital paragraph, and, when united with natural 
 commendations of the young sailor, must be positively 
 astounding. I like him not, but younger brothers 
 will be born (more the pity), and they are rarely in a 
 hurry to die. Had this young man been drowned, he 
 would have deserved celebrity indeed ; in fact, had 
 the elder sunk, it would have done as well, since he 
 would have succeeded immediately, and received pro- 
 perty and praise, at the same time. How seldom do 
 young people see their own interest, especially sailors. 
 I never knew a prudent man amongst them. No 
 blame could arise to him from his brother's drowning, 
 but an immense profit, which he literally cast away 
 with his own hands. However, his folly may tell in a 
 paragraph — beyond that, he is a person I could not 
 encourage."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD, ^39 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Georgiana and Helen, though by no means troubled 
 with the feverish anxiety, or elated by the far-seeing 
 hopes of their mother, were yet as pleased with the 
 gay doings of the following day as girls generally are. 
 They rose at an early hour, for they knew that the 
 male part of Mr. Palmer's servants were gone forth, 
 long before, to find any thing '' green and pretty" 
 wherewith to decorate the rooms 3 and their own boy 
 was, at the same time, employed in stripping Louisa's 
 garden of its floral treasures. They endeavoured to 
 supply, by the tasteful disposition of that which was 
 obtained, the want of greenhouse plants and costly 
 exotics, and were so successful, that even Lady Anne, 
 '* who had seen so much, and understood the matter so 
 well," expressed herself really charmed by the coup 
 d'oeil of her drawing-room, and proceeded to give 
 orders for the distribution of lights in the most judi- 
 cious and liberal manner. 
 
 ^' To want light is to want everything ; nothing can 
 be gay or splendid without it ; a gloomy room casts a 
 chill on the spirits, and sends people away, by dozens, 
 to find a more inspiring atmosphere ; nevertheless,
 
 240 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 you must remember, towards the close of the evening, 
 never to sit near any brilliant light. When people 
 grow pale and exhausted, they should always contrive 
 to sit in shadow. I have known a sallow woman, with 
 good features, manage to look well by nestling into 
 the shadow of a window-curtain, or amongst the 
 plants. If eyes are bright, they sparkle more effec- 
 tively ; if dull, their deficiencies are hidden : there is 
 quite as much knowledge required for hiding a defect 
 as displaying a beauty. Who would think that Lady 
 Penrhyn was crooked ?'* 
 
 *' Crooked, mamma I only in her temper, surely ?" 
 
 " No ; in her shape, which has a positive twi^t, 
 though not a great one ; and she manages to dress so 
 judiciously ! not one of her acquaintance guesses such 
 a thing. I have hitherto kept her secret ; but on her 
 conduct to-night depends my continuing to do so, but 
 of course I expect you to guard it." 
 
 " I cannot imagine how it can be hidden," said 
 Helen, musing. 
 
 *' Of course you can't, at your age and with your 
 shape, child ; but, under different circumstances, you 
 would find the benefit of cotton-wool and an intel- 
 gent soubrette. Lady P. also finds a great advantage 
 in that perpetual change of posture she adopts, and a 
 kind of wriggling motion adapted to her laugh." 
 
 " And she is always laughing a little; never heartily, 
 but a kind of hi, hi ! — not so merry as silly, in my 
 opinion.""
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARH. 241 
 
 '' You are too young, Georgiana, to have an opinion ; 
 for, having seen nothing of the world, you are not able 
 to compare and combine circumstances in such a man- 
 ner as to form a just judgment. No person of fashion 
 ever laughs out from the impulse of the heart, like old 
 Mr. Palmer, for instance (surely that daughter of his 
 who is coming here knows better) ; but many people, 
 of the highest grade, allow themselves to giggle a 
 little, especially when they have fine teeth — and you 
 know hers are perfect. Many persons must laugh 
 when a great person or an acknowledged wit says a 
 clever thing, such as a smart repartee, or a really good 
 pun. Satirical people always expect a short laugh to 
 follow the effusions of their — their malignity, shall I 
 call it ?'* 
 
 " I never would pay them that compliment," said 
 Helen. 
 
 " Indeed you must ; girls in your situation must fol- 
 low, not lead. Nothing less than an heiress who is also 
 a beauty can pretend to a high tone of morality ; but 
 I am leaving the subject. Lady Penrhyn says wild 
 things, ill-natured things, and at times witty things, 
 from no motive whatever but that of keeping up the 
 laugh and the motion, which diverts the eye from the 
 only defect in her person ; and it certainly answers. 
 Her tact is admirable, and offers an example to all 
 young people, since none of them know what may be 
 required for themselves in future life." 
 
 With this sage and just observation Lady Anne left 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 r 
 
 242 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 her daughters to finish their pleasant labours in the 
 drawing-room, while she inspected the rooms below, 
 by much the more important, because the more ex- 
 pensive affair. Nothing could exceed the suavity of 
 her manners to those servants of her neighbours now 
 employed on her account, and who actually found them- 
 selves repaid by the smiles of her they termed a real 
 lady for extra service and great personal exertion. 
 It is true, they were a good-natured and respectable 
 set of servants, who had lived so long in their places 
 that they might be said, by a happy contagion, to 
 have caught kindly feelings from their superiors, and, 
 having assisted in saving the lives of the young ladies, 
 gave them an interest in their pleasures, and a real 
 delight in seeing those fair young faces lighted up 
 with joy. The marriage of Mr. Glentworth had been 
 a subject of importance and exultation to them all ; 
 nor had they failed to rejoice in Miss Louisa's marry- 
 ing " the man of her heart," spite of her they wickedly 
 termed '' the old lady," but now they saw more of 
 her ; scarcely a lord was thought good enough for her 
 daughters. 
 
 "Helen," said Georgiana, '*just lay down that 
 wreath a moment, and look at the two young gentle- 
 men coming up the street.'^ 
 
 " They are fine-looking young men, certainly, and 
 as tall as Charles Penrhyn. Ah ! they stop at IMr. 
 Palmer's : thev must be Lord Meersbrook and his 
 sailor-brother ; I wonder which is he 
 
 ^■>>
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 243 
 
 C( 
 
 Most likely he who is the shorter of the two ; — 
 no ! he goes in the first, and is, of course, the eldest ; 
 but we have no time for conjecturing now." 
 
 Nevertheless, Georgiana did, for some minutes, fix 
 her eyes on the door, not with any expectation of seeing 
 the parties come out, or any desire that they would 
 or would not be amongst their evening guests, but in 
 the recollection of those sweet feelings which, the 
 morning before, had thrilled her heart, and made the 
 tears gush into her eyes, as her busy imagination 
 painted the embrace of the two brothers, when both 
 became sensible that they indeed lived. When Arthur 
 knew he had secured his inestimable prize, and Fre- 
 deric felt that he possessed in such a brother 
 
 more than a world 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
 
 she soon afterwards became busy, and affected to be 
 gay ; for she remembered what her mother had said, 
 and was sensible that looking at the young gentleman 
 was not the way to render her less liable to the charge 
 of admiring him. She had a vivid imagination, great 
 sensibility, an acute perception of all that was noble 
 and excellent in character and conduct ; more espe- 
 cially where it bore on that dear, fraternal tie, which 
 she felt to be the life of life to her. Such feelings 
 were more especially awakened, at the moment, in 
 Georgiana than any other of the party ; because, 
 during their busy time in the China closet, she had 
 
 M 2
 
 244 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 been saved, by Helen, from an accident which, if not 
 of great moment, would at least have prevented her 
 from enjoying the pleasure she expected, and had 
 necessarilv stimulated her warm and grateful emo- 
 tions. 
 
 Notwithstanding Lady Penrhyn departed in the 
 manner we have seen, she did not fail to fulfil her 
 promise, and was the first person (with the exception 
 of Charles and his bride) to present herself in Lady 
 Anne's drawing-room. Her reception of her brother 
 was most affectionate — there are times when the most 
 artificial, by habit, become natural ; when the early 
 memories of the heart, for a short time at least, spring 
 up as a fountain of living waters, overflowing the 
 selfish vanities and conventional incrustations which 
 the world has planted — giving honest smiles to the 
 countenance ; artless, yet loving words to the tongue ; 
 and the gratified heart seems restored to a new child- 
 hood. Nothing could exceed the delight with which 
 Penrhyn observed this change in his sister, who had 
 never been herself, in his eyes, since her marriage ; 
 and whose manners, as they were generally displayed, 
 would have been disgustingly painful at this time, 
 when the sweet simplicity and integrity of his wife 
 had imbued his very being with a just preference for 
 nature to art. 
 
 But company poured in — he was too busy, and his 
 lovely bride too beautiful, to preserve him in a frame 
 of mind congenial with that which he desired to adopt.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 245 
 
 Pride would mingle with his pleasure, the world would 
 run away with him for a short time, for, on every side, 
 he heard congratulations on his marriage, or the ad- 
 vantages of his situation, as contrasted with his former 
 one. There might be some shrugs and some sneers 
 amongst the party on the *' all for love" young couple, 
 or the young man who had banished himself to that 
 horrible Siberia, *' the city ;" but these were not heard 
 by him, nor were they uttered by any of the aristocratic 
 part of the community. Much as it is the fashion to 
 deride the nobility, by decrying their morality and de- 
 nying their ability, even by those who have the entree^ 
 and therefore may be supposed to know them the 
 best, in point of fact, at the present day, there are 
 amongst them an immense proportion of good and 
 sensible people. If the whole were as much distin- 
 guished by nature as by rank, it would be much more 
 extraordinary than that " ^few young men were wild 
 and foolish, a few old ones prejudiced and conceited — 
 that amongst a race of women, distinguished as much 
 by their personal charms as their titles, some should 
 be weak and vain, others prejudiced and presuming. 
 In what town or village, amongst what class of fe- 
 male life, shall we find an exemption from these faults ? 
 The possession of beauty leads to an overweening ad- 
 miration of it, and wealth gives a power of preserving 
 this boon of nature in a manner forbidden to the poor, 
 which will account fully for the extreme and perhaps 
 blameable solicitude a few continue to feel on the sub-
 
 246 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 ject. They direfeiv in comparison with the excellent 
 mothers, the affectionate and dutiful wives, the well- 
 educated, unaffected, and fondly-attached daughters 
 who form the great portion of the aristocracy of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 To the surprise of Lady Anne and Lady Penrhyn, 
 what the latter called the " irruption of the Goths" 
 did not take place till a late hour. This was the 
 arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, Mr. and Mrs. Gooch, 
 and two young gentlemen, respecting whom there had 
 been sufficient of whispers and expectations to render 
 them as much the point of attraction as the handsome 
 bride and bridegroom had already been. These were 
 immediately followed by the Marquess of Wentworth- 
 dale, accompanied by the Russian Prince Blackens- 
 dorff ; so that Lady Anne had, at the moment, her 
 hands quite full, and Lady Penrhyn's eyes were not 
 less busy. She had fully intended to fascinate Lord 
 Meersbrook, but the Russian was six feet two inches 
 high ; he wore the full dress of his own court, and 
 several splendid orders ; every eye was upon him — 
 unluckily, his eyes soon fixed themselves on Louisa, 
 whom he thought very like his own sister, the reign- 
 ing beauty of the court at St. Petersburgh. 
 
 As Louisa had no desire to receive the attentions of 
 the Prince, and Lady Penrhyn was well-practised in 
 the art of inveigling, she would have soon carried 
 her point, if she had not met with one who disputed 
 the prize almost as adroitly as herself; this was Lady
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 247 
 
 Allerton, no longer the artful Miss Aubrey, who drew 
 away poor Mary Granard's lover, but the imperious 
 wife, who had long since taught her cautious, suspi- 
 cious husband that he had been angled for by a skilful 
 piscator, and secured by tackle the law alone could 
 break. Of this, however, he had little expectation ; 
 the lady loved herself, if she loved not him, and, as he 
 knew she had given her heart at one time to a man 
 who deserted her, he lived on in the hope that her af- 
 fections, awakened by gratitude to an indulgent hus- 
 band, might some time revert to him sufficiently to 
 secure the respectability of both ; more than that he 
 had ceased to hope, perhaps to care for. He was try- 
 ing to become a politician, but it was by no means his 
 vocation. As he was fatally mistaken in supposing the 
 gentle and artless Mary a designing girl, urged on by 
 a manmuvring mother, so was he in supposing that a 
 man of his temper and habits could find solace for the 
 wants of the heart in the occupations of the mind. 
 Brought up by a widowed mother in the constant ex- 
 ercise of the affections which guarded him from the 
 many temptations to which youth and wealth exposed 
 him, but also narrowed his views and repressed his 
 energies, he was by no means able to contend with the 
 daring, or wind on the sinuous course of the cunning. 
 Suspicion of women had been grafted in his temper as 
 a duty by the mother, who knew how desirable o. parti 
 he would be deemed, but other jealousy he had none ; 
 for he was much too honourable and ingenuous to
 
 248 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 imagine that of another which he himself was in- 
 capable of conceiving, much less carrying into action. 
 With Mary Granard for a wife, he would have been 
 loved for his virtues and respected for his usefulness — 
 he would have been a happy man, and merited his hap- 
 piness ; he was now helpless, at best, but frequently 
 in positive misery, and only saved from utter reckless- 
 ness by the remnants of what might be termed his 
 better nature, or the indolence which belonged to his 
 easy temper. 
 
 P
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " How singularly those brothers resemble each other ["" 
 said LordWentworthdale to Mr. Palmer ; " you appear 
 to know them well ; pray does the likeness run through 
 their minds as well as their persons ?'* 
 
 " I know little of them for the last ten years, which 
 I should consider the forming time of a man's life, my 
 lord, but I think it does not ; in all that may be called 
 principles and opinions, I dare say they are as much 
 alike as the high forehead and the smiling mouth we 
 are observing ; but in other respects they differ, and 
 each forms a most admirable specimen of the class to 
 which they belong as elder and younger brothers." 
 
 " So I should think ; Meersbrook, desultory as his 
 education must have been, is evidently a man of abi- 
 lities, and most gentlemanly in manners (indeed, the 
 Persians and Turks are graceful people, amongst whom 
 he has spent much time), whilst the other is a brave, 
 dashing fellow, who will seize fortune by the forelock, 
 as his father did, and leave a name behind that will 
 rival the title. Pray who is the pretty, intelligent- 
 looking girl just led away to the dance ?" 
 
 M 5
 
 250 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 '* Lady Anne's youngest unmarried daughter Geor- 
 giana." 
 
 " Has Glentworth, then, married a girl younger 
 than that?" 
 
 '* He has, my lord ; but, though two years her ju- 
 nior, Mrs. Glentworth being dark, looks older ; she is, 
 also, somewhat the taller, I think.'' 
 
 "I suppose the match was of Lady Anne's making ?" 
 
 " That Lady Anne wished Mr. Glentworth to marry 
 one of her daughters cannot be doubted, but she ex- 
 pected the eldest would have been his choice, but poor 
 Mary herself never thought of such a thing (God help 
 her ! she has neither heart nor eye for any man since 
 one man misled her) . In this aiFair, I must say Isa- 
 bella was left to her own council entirely, for Lady 
 Anne was as much surprised as I was, I realiy believe.'* 
 
 *'So young, and so ambitious!" said the marquis, 
 musingly. 
 
 " Not one of those young ladies can be called am- 
 bitious ; they are innocent of all worldly and selfish 
 passions. Isabella was almost in the nursery, as it 
 were ; Mr. Glentworth, though not young, was a 
 handsome man, still in his prime, intelligent and very 
 kind ; no wonder she was charmed with him, poor 
 thing!" 
 
 " And do you really believe, my good sir, the girl 
 married him for love ?" 
 
 '* Upon my honour I do, my lord ; and. as the father of 
 three girls, all married to men of their own choice, I 
 count myself pretty learned in symptoms."
 
 LADY ANNE GRA^'ARD. 251 
 
 At this moment there was a movement towards the 
 iastrument, Mrs. Penrhyn and Mrs. Gooch being about 
 to sing, and, of course, the father could not forbear pres- 
 sing towards his daughter, who was well dressed, ra- 
 diant with smiles, and capable of performing her task 
 to the satisfaction of " ears polite/' Short as the con- 
 versation had been between the marquis and Mr, Pal- 
 mer, it had important consequences. It implanted a 
 dagger in the heart of one nobleman, who was a hearer 
 by mere chance, and awoke a tender desire in the 
 breast of another, after so long a period of old bachelor- 
 ship, that mothers of every description had given him 
 up some time ago. Little thought the good-natured 
 vindicator of Lady Anne's offspring (to all of whom he 
 was sincerely attached) that he had drawn upon one 
 that which she held to be the great misfortune of her 
 life a short time afterwards. 
 
 Poor Georgiana had heard, with great interest, the 
 remarks of the marquis on the interesting brothers, 
 more especially what was said of Arthur; and the 
 pleasant smile which lighted up her countenance at the 
 moment when he inquired " who was she ? " was im- 
 puted to her admiration of his eloquence, when he found 
 that " such things were," as young ladies feeling a 
 preference, nay, as it appeared, a passion, for men 
 twenty years older than themselves. There was no 
 mistrusting Mr. Palmer ; his countenance was a book, 
 in which honesty of purpose and soundness of under- 
 standing were legibly written.
 
 252 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 Every body was delighted with the singing ; and, in 
 paying his compHments to the performers, more espe- 
 cially the bride, the marquis took occasion to converse 
 with her as far as was possible, and convince himself 
 that the daughter of a selfish, extravagant, and so- 
 phisticated mother might be artless and modest, sen- 
 sible and upright. Helen, Georgiana, and two other 
 young ladies sung also; and it appeared that everybody 
 was much more pleased than people are in general with 
 any lions, who are also exotics, to whom they conde- 
 scend to be attentive, but refuse to be friendly ; rejoic- 
 ing when any little conventional informality reduces 
 the genius, whose patent of nobility the Creator himself 
 has bestowed, below the level of fashion, and substi- 
 tuting ridicule for admiration, the smile of the scorner 
 for the approval of veneration. 
 
 '*^ Know thy own worth, and reverence the lyre," 
 
 is a line that should be as a fillet bound round the 
 brow — a philactory embroidered on the garments of 
 every son and daughter of Adam distinguished by the 
 possession of that sacred gift, which, whether used or 
 abused, applauded in itself or derided in its possessor, 
 is the highest and the most inalienable distinction hu- 
 manity ever has or ever can be gifted with, whether 
 bestowed on the highest or the humblest being, in the 
 great mass to which we all belong. We by no means 
 mean to say that Lady Anne's happy and pleasant 
 little party would not have received a new impetus if
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 253 
 
 a Moore, a Bulwer, a Hook, or those monopolists of 
 beauty and wit, Mrs. Gore and Mrs. Norton, or those 
 daughters of Apollo, ycleped Mitford, Pardoe, and 
 Strickland had been mingled with her " blue spirits 
 and grey ;'* but we do mean to say that they were very 
 happy without them, and that much, perhaps all, of 
 the "feast of reason and the flow of soul," for which 
 these distinguished individuals are loved, and sought, 
 and honoured, would have been lost in the melee of 
 dancing, singing, chattering, and flirting, to which the 
 major part of the visitants were devoted. 
 
 But it was at her supper-table Lady Anne's talents 
 and the good taste of her daughters were most happily 
 displayed : every one pronounced it " the prettiest 
 thing they had seen/' and very pretty it was, consider- 
 ing the size of the rooms, nor was any good thing want- 
 ing, for Mr. Palmer's cook was as good a hand at white 
 soup as jellies, and '' my son Penrhyn" had sent in the 
 Champagne which Lord Penrhyn (when he arrived on 
 the house breaking up) pronounced to be excellent, 
 glancing towards his lady, who had now succeeded in 
 chaining the Russian prince to her car approvingly, 
 whilst to her brother was directed a withering look, 
 until he saw that the marquis of Wentworthdale was 
 paying his bride the most devoted and respectful at- 
 tention, when the current of his pride took another 
 turn, and he determined to restore Charles to favour, 
 seeing his wife was the fashion. He cast his eye 
 around to find any of the sisters 3 one of them was
 
 S54 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 with Lord Allerton, the other with a stranger, whose 
 high white forehead and bronzed cheeks told that, 
 young as he was, he had braved '* the battle and the 
 breeze" in various climates. 
 
 The fact was, that poor Georgiana had been parti- 
 cularly anxious to avoid the young sailor, whose con- 
 duct had touched her heart so nearly 3 but, as she was 
 not the less so really to see him, she had on several 
 occasions took an earnest look from behind any group 
 which happened to be conveniently placed for the pur- 
 pose. This attracted the notice of Lord Meersbrook, 
 who, even in this gay assemblage, the first he had 
 mixed with in Europe, looked more upon his brother 
 at this time than any other person. He had heard 
 much of the slights passed on younger brothers in 
 English re-unions, and sent jealous glances around in 
 quest not of a knight-errant, but a damsel, who should 
 dare to be shy to the object of his pre-eminent affec- 
 tion. Whispers had reached him of " don't mistake, 
 it is the lesser one who is the viscount ; they are ex- 
 actly alike, but his lordship much the handsomest." 
 
 Under the influence of his present sensations, the 
 stolen, and, in fact, the admiring looks of Georgiana 
 were so grateful to his feelings, that if a high and ge- 
 nerous purpose had not so entirely possessed him, that 
 the power of beauty and the charm of sympathy were 
 suspended, he might perhaps have loved her who 
 looked so curiously on the brother of his love. In the 
 course of the evening he mentioned the circumstance
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. ^5 
 
 to Arthur (who had made one in a quadrille from the 
 moment dancing was started) saying, '' she is a very 
 pretty girl, and disengaged, I think. Mr. Palmer will 
 introduce you.'* 
 
 The advice was not lost 3 the quadrille lasted till 
 supper-time, and the two young people were soon 
 gone ages in love, without having any suspicion of 
 such a thing taking place. With the chicken in the 
 fable, the lady might have said — 
 
 ** I ne'er had been in this condition, 
 But for my mother's prohibition." 
 
 The gentleman might also owe his penchant in part, 
 at least, to the blushes and embarrassment displayed 
 by Georgiana, following the information given by his 
 brother ; in him it was both professional and natural 
 to be warmly grateful for the approving smile of a 
 " fair ladye ;" and when she was so pretty, so like the 
 bride, her sister, whom every body was praising, no 
 wonder that he was absolutely charmed, and sensible 
 of emotions different, but not less sweet than those he 
 enjoyed on welcoming his brother to the life his own 
 prowess had won. 
 
 There was more dancing and singing up stairs, 
 more wit and conversation below ; all were at liberty, 
 and all stayed late ; and all talked so much of the hap- 
 piness they had enjoyed, that Lady Anne felt herself 
 exceedingly tempted to give another party before the 
 season finally closed. She had been even bespattered
 
 256 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 with praise, so abundantly had it been showered upon 
 her ; and, like Lord Byron, she '' awoke and found lier- 
 self famous," not like him, for doing (/reat things, but 
 little ones ; for it was certain that, in her day of power, 
 she had made scores of grand entertainments, which 
 really merited talking of, but were passed by with 
 little comment ; whereas, now, it was evident that all 
 the world envied the few who had been *' at home"^ 
 with Lady Granard. 
 
 When she talked of a second, however, even her 
 young daughters, much as they had enjoyed the first, 
 looked blank, for Louisa and Charles were positively 
 alarmed at the first hint she gave ; and Mrs. Palmer 
 absolutely protested against *' turning the house out 
 of the windows again ; at least," she added, ^' till there 
 is another wedding in the family — not a wedding 
 like poor Louisa's, where the bride is a fugitive one 
 week Siud feted another, but a regular approved mar- 
 riage, which would justify the outlay." 
 
 The Marquess of Wentworthdale had called on 
 Lady Anne, as it so happened, at a time when her 
 daughters were gone to Mr. Palmers, with an inten- 
 tion of assisting to restore the china closet to that 
 state of propriety which they had unavoidably dis- 
 arranged ; in consequence of which a icte-a-tete oc- 
 curred of the most interesting nature, containing a 
 promise for the future far exceeding the most brilliant 
 visions which had ever occupied either her waking or 
 her sleeping dreams. The vision was, however, so wire-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 257 
 
 drawn, it was so evident that the nobleman had not 
 got his own consent to the vague something floating 
 in his " mind's eye," that he left her in the dark as to 
 his wishes and intentions beyond the belief that he 
 was determined to seek, in the matrimonial state, 
 that happiness which had hitherto eluded his pursuit, 
 " but that her charming family could alone supply a 
 female suited to his fastidious taste ; it was to him 
 a great trouble that he had never till now been aware 
 that the world contained such treasures. Glentworth 
 was, undoubtedly, the happiest of men/' 
 
 " Had Mary been at home, I do really think the 
 marquess would have made her an offer — as he has 
 never seen her, he may be thinking of Helen : it was 
 evident, he admired Louisa, who did look very well 
 last night ; surely, he cannot be thinking of Georgiana, 
 who is growing very like her, but is so mere a child. 
 Yet, I have been told that old bachelors are fond of 
 young girls, under the idea that they can manage them 
 the best, and they may be right. The marquess has 
 been a fine man, and he wears well; but yet, the 
 world would call such a match preposterous, and blame 
 me ; whereas, there would be nothing to remark if he 
 took Mary. By the way, Lord AUerton looks nearly 
 as ill as she does, and his wife is at once a flirt and a 
 vixen, yet by no means happy ; she wore rouge last 
 night, I am confident ; it is taking to art very early in 
 life, and proves something is wrong. Be it so 5 she 
 brought misery enough on me and mine.""
 
 258 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Whatever might have been the wishes or intentions 
 of Lady Anne, they were cut short by a remonstrance 
 from Lord Rotheles, which, although mildly couched, 
 was very effective ; especially as it was accompanied 
 by a sneering reproach from his countess, " that she 
 had kept the information from them of her having at- 
 tained some acquisition of fortune in which they would 
 have rejoiced sincerely, and which could alone ac- 
 count for the magnificent entertainment she had been 
 giving/' 
 
 *^ Magnificent V* exclaimed poor Lady Anne, as she 
 put her aunt's note into Helen's hand ; '' did you ever 
 hear any thing so malignant ? More than one half 
 of the things we had for refreshment were given, and 
 all we had for show was lent." 
 
 " It is the newspapers which have done the mis- 
 chief, mamma, extolling things so much above the 
 truth ; can we not put in a paragraph to contradict 
 them ?" 
 
 " Certainly not ; the world should never know you 
 are low in it, though it may occasionally answer to 
 complain to a friend who happens to be rich. It is
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 259 
 
 better to be envied than pitied, whatever be the home 
 struggle. Although this letter is vexatious, I must 
 not forget that my little entertainment has brought 
 me a visiter in the Marquess of Wentworthdale, on an 
 errand of no small moment, as the Countess of Ro- 
 theles may soon learn, to her surprise, for I shall, 
 probably, see him at the Opera to-night," 
 
 The girls remarked that their mamma was smarter, 
 and, indeed, looked better than they had ever seen her; 
 and Georgiana observed, " I wonder what mamma 
 could mean about the marquess ? he is a very nice old 
 man. I am sure if he were going to marry her, I 
 should like him very much, and I think it would be a 
 very suitable thing/' 
 
 " So it would, but I think there is no likelihood of 
 it ; I am afraid he is more likely to think of you 
 or me." 
 
 Conjecture on this or any other topic was ended by 
 the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Penrhyn, with a whole 
 packet of letters from the absent sisters, which were 
 read w^ith the most heartfelt delight, especially as 
 there was, from each writer, an assurance that Mary 
 had benefitted greatly. Isabella did not write exactly 
 as might have been expected — playfully, or even con- 
 tentedly ; she appeared so anxiously endeavouring to 
 improve her mind, in order to render herself worthy of 
 the husband she passionately admired, that she was 
 losing her youth, in its best season, for enjoyment ; 
 and her sisters all exclaimed against knowledge so 
 dearly purchased.
 
 260 LADY ANNE r^RANARD. 
 
 They had travelled by sea, because the voyage was 
 recommended to Mary, so that there was little to re- 
 late beyond sufferings, in the first place, and the mis- 
 haps common to the case, and which Mr. Glentworth 
 exceedingly lamented, on his young wife's behalf, in a 
 letter addressed to Mr. Penrhyn. Having arrived at 
 Marseilles before the heats were excessive, he spoke in 
 favourable terms of the health of all, and said that, as 
 in all probability, his affairs would be soon arranged, 
 it was his full intention to take the ladies into Italy, 
 as they had a great desire to see Rome and Florence ; 
 beyond that he thought they would not wish to go ; 
 and, being completely sick of the sea, would return 
 through France, and, probably, stop a few weeks at 
 Paris, where, perhaps, Lady Anne and her two 
 youngest daughters would meet them. Helen was in 
 absolute transports at the thoughts of a trip to Paris, 
 but Georgiana seemed to think little of it. She talked 
 very learnedly of the blue depths of the Mediterranean, 
 the grandeur of the vast Atlantic, and surprised her 
 sisters exceedingly by the passion she evinced, all at 
 once, for the sea, which she was wont to dislike at 
 Brighton ; they did not, in the slightest degree, sup- 
 pose that she might, in truth, have exclaimed with the 
 beloved of Oronooka : — 
 
 tf 
 
 The little spot of ground he stands upon 
 Is more to me than tiie extended plains 
 Of earth's most mighty empire!" 
 
 And, alas I the emphatic he would soon be again upon
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 261 
 
 that element for which she had taken such an especial 
 fancy. 
 
 But he was not yet gone ; and when the good news 
 and the letters, also, were next day taken to Mrs. Pal- 
 mer, there sat the two brothers, and most happy did 
 they appear to be made by their presence, entering 
 warmly into their feelings of satisfaction respecting 
 their distant sisters, and mentioning many things con- 
 nected with their present situation, which had for them 
 considerable interest, as all things have connected with 
 the dear, who are the distant also. There was evi- 
 dently a sympathy in the nature of the four young 
 persons which went beyond the sense of admiration, 
 the beauty or agreeableness either party inspired; the 
 fraternal tie was so strong and so sweetly exercised in 
 both, that it bound them in a manner to each other in 
 the *' smothered flame," which soon became *' avowed 
 and bold ;" and, like a sailor, Arthur would soon have 
 told his love, if Lord Meersbrook had not earnestly 
 entreated him to delay it until they should together 
 have visited their grandfather. Sir Edward Hales, at 
 Meersbrook, in Kent. 
 
 He only stayed a few days in London, to take the 
 oaths and his seat in the House of Lords, a ceremony 
 that was to take place on the morrow, and he held him- 
 self much indebted to the circumstance of spending his 
 first evening at Lady Anne''s, because the marquis of> 
 Wentworthdale had, with the utmost urbanity, offered 
 to accompany him on that somewhat trying occasion. 
 
 I
 
 262 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 and he felt the value of his kindness not less than the 
 courtesy evinced by a man of his rank and importance 
 in the court and the House of Lords. After he had 
 expressed this feeling, adding that he wished to see 
 Lady Anne, if she were really at home, Mr. Palmer 
 said, " She is so now we know, and I will step over 
 with you this moment." 
 
 " And do ask her to dine with us to-morrow, to meet 
 these young friends, who leave town the next morning. 
 We can only offer them a family-dinner, of course ; 
 but the business of the House will be soon over, and it 
 may happen that they will like to go to the Opera 
 afterwards. Lady Anne goes often for her own plea- 
 sure, and I think she might chaperon these dear girls, 
 who only have been once the whole season.*' 
 
 *' Thank you, thank you ! dear Mrs. Palmer," said 
 Arthur, warmly, " you are still, what Frederic always 
 said you were, the kindest woman in the world." 
 
 " Well, sit you down, there is no need for you to go 
 with Lord Meersbrook.'* 
 
 " I am very glad of it," said the young man, re- 
 suming his seat, and looking at Georgiana with eyes 
 that said very plainly, *' I had much rather stay with 
 you," and her " eloquent blood" replied, ** I am glad 
 of it," though her tongue was more silent than usual. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer had already learned from the open- 
 hearted sailor how matters stood with both ; but, con- 
 fident that Lady Anne would never consent to give 
 her daughter to an unprovided or poorly provided
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 263 
 
 younger brother, she would not for a moment have 
 allowed them the means of confirming their passion 
 for each other, if she had not been already in the secret 
 of the elder brother. This was his intention to per- 
 suade their aged grandfather to transfer his own heir- 
 ship to Arthur, which he considered it a fortunate cir- 
 cumstance was in his power, with the exception of a 
 very small estate, tied inalienably to the heir of that 
 ancient and distinguished family. He knew that his 
 mother's large fortune was not more than sufficient to 
 maintain the dignities his father's admirable diplomacy 
 had achieved, since he had maintained the honour of his 
 country by expending the full amount of his income, 
 save a very few thousands bequeathed to his younger 
 son, whom he also considered (and very justly if he did 
 his duty) as a charge on his country. At this time 
 there was no reason to doubt that a young man so 
 courageous, clever, and active, would get forward; 
 but, since the country was at peace, and the late trans- 
 action had called up the warmest feelings of a most 
 affectionate brother, who, having lost a father he 
 idoHzed, a mother scarcely remembered yet sincerely 
 lamented, and a sister fondly beloved and still regretted, 
 felt as if he could never sufficiently evince the affection 
 he felt for the only tie of his existence — the brave and 
 noble boy, who from his cradle had held him inesti- 
 mable, judging of his brother's nature by his own ge- 
 nerous, unselfish spirit. Whilst a boy, Lord Meers- 
 brook had been under the care of his grandfather, who
 
 264 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 was exceedingly attached to him, and had written to 
 Arthur (whilst they were in the Isle of Wight) expres- 
 sive of his warm admiration, and thankfulness for his 
 preservation of one inestimably dear to him ; and on 
 this letter Frederic founded his hopes, that a request 
 would be complied with which he considered likely to 
 make all happy. 
 
 Lady Anne readily promised that herself and daugh- 
 ters would accept the invitation of their neighbours ; 
 and so much was she pleased with the person and man- 
 ners of the young nobleman — so well did she remem- 
 ber all the particulars of his mother's dowry, and the 
 estates of his grandfather, that she generously deter- 
 mined to give him every chance of obtaining Georgi- 
 ana, in the hope that the Marquis of Wentworthdale 
 might turn his attention to Helen, who, as being the 
 elder, was the more suitable. " I cannot," said she, 
 internally, " see that it makes any difference to him 
 which of my daughters he takes, if, as he says, it is 
 my admirable mode of bringing them up which has put 
 matrimony into his head, for it is certain I have brought 
 them up impartially. I have had different views and 
 expectations, but I never indulged any one of them. 
 It would be very desirable he should take Ellen before 
 she is of age, or she may do as Louisa has done : be- 
 sides, he has no time to lose ! he keeps talking of 
 Glentworth, and his happiness in being attached to a 
 young lady, whose good sense overlooked the disparity 
 in their years, never remembering that he is a good
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 265 
 
 seven years the older, and that tiie peerage tells every 
 body (more the pity) exact truth ! besides, the difference 
 in their style of person, which is by no means in his 
 lordship's favour ! However, it is my part to extol his 
 person, and to prove that time makes no difference in 
 men, though ruinous to women !" 
 
 Lady Anne's wishes respecting the marquis were 
 borne out the following day at Mr. Palmer's very effi- 
 ciently, for Lord Meersbrook was full of his praise, 
 reverting to the value of his own introduction as con- 
 trasted with that of Lord Byron, whom, he modestly 
 observed, had deserved the honour so much better. 
 *' That remains to be seen in one sense, my lord ; for, 
 although one cannot hope to see you so great a poet, as 
 Lord Byron, and therefore not claiming the distinction 
 which he ought to have received on the occasion alluded 
 to, yet I think you will be a better man, a better hus- 
 band, a " 
 
 *' Pardon me, I don't think I shall be a husband 
 soon. I admire English young ladies, but English 
 wives are my horror V* 
 
 '* Dear me ! you know nothing about thera — how 
 should you ?" 
 
 " 1 will appeal to Lady Anne Granard, at whose 
 house I formed my judgment whether two ladies of 
 rank and beauty did not conduct themselves in a most 
 indecorous manner?'' 
 
 " I think with you, my lord, exactly. But surely 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 ^66 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 you will not say that every pretty married woman in- 
 dulged in flirtation ?'^ 
 
 '' Certainly the pretty bride did not : but lier exam- 
 ple was disregarded. Had I been the husband of 
 either Lady Penrhyn or Lady Allerton, I would '* 
 
 '' What would you have done, most worshipful fol- 
 lower of Mahomed ?" said Arthur, laughing. 
 
 "I would have compelled them to remain closely 
 veiled in the harem for many months, and fed them on 
 bread and water !" 
 
 This was spoken with so much earnestness and sim_ 
 plicity, that every one laughed except Lady Anne, who 
 warmly applauded the sentence, made many inquiries 
 respecting the habits of women in the East, and greatly 
 approved of all those circumstances, in conduct and 
 education, which indicated obedience on the part of 
 females. She knew '' such doctrines were out of date, 
 but she had strictly adhered to them in her plan of 
 education, and the husbands of her daughters would 
 reap the benefit of it. She had been herself an obe- 
 dient wife (this required a great gulp on the part of 
 her neighbours), and she trusted they would follow 
 her example. She had, in fact, no patience with such 
 women as Lady Penrhyn and Lady Allerton ; but, as 
 the first was the sister of her new son, and the second 
 the niece of Countess Rotheles, her brother's wife, she 
 was under the necessity of inviting them."" 
 
 Amiable and condescending as Lady Anne chose to 
 appear on this occasion, she had yet great difficulty even
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 267 
 
 in looking towards the proscribed younger brother, 
 handsome and elegant as he really was, until she saw 
 how positively he was the idol of Lord Meersbrook, 
 when she found it convenient to talk of the sea, and 
 have an enthusiastic admiration for naval heroes. Un- 
 fortunately, in addressing these observations to Arthur, 
 she became aware of certain glances directed to Geor- 
 giana, which were answered with blushes, on which 
 anger, amounting to rage, rose in her heart, and the 
 poor forsaken minstrel who exclaimed — 
 
 *' And have I burnt my harp for thee ?" 
 
 felt not more indignation than Lady Anne, as the 
 thought passed her mind, '' Have I played amiable for 
 a lieutenant in the navy? have I a daughter who 
 might be a marchioness, and can stoop to love in a 
 cabin ?" 
 
 But she had learned to '' smooth her horrent brow'' 
 under similar times of trial, and not one of the gentle- 
 men present were aware of the slightest change in her 
 feelings. There was but little time for the drawing- 
 room, as their carriages were soon announced ; and,' 
 as the brothers went in a hired one, Mr. Palmer said 
 they had better go the first, and then they would be 
 ready to take charge of the ladies on their arrival, to 
 which they immediately assented. 
 
 The moment they were gone. Lady Anne expressed 
 great pain at leaving dear Mrs. Palmer, adding, " I 
 would stay with you myself, but am under the neces-* 
 
 n2
 
 268 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 sity of playing chaperon to Helen. Georgiana will, 
 however, have that pleasure."" 
 
 The start of recoil given by the poor girl, and the 
 way in which all colour fled her cheeks, shew^ed the un- 
 pitying mother that the case was worse than she had 
 apprehended; and, the more Mrs. Palmer remonstrated 
 by saying the young ladies had never been the whole 
 season, that places were secured and tickets paid for, 
 the more determined was Lady Anne that Mrs. Pal- 
 mer must have the benefit of Georgiana's company. 
 
 " I beg you to keep her, ray dear madam," she said, 
 at length, " in pity to herself, for she is evidently un- 
 well J yeu see how pale she looks — something, I fear, 
 in your excellent cuisine has been too much for her 
 stomach. I commend her to your skill and kind* 
 ness ; it will not be the first time she has benefitted 
 by them." 
 
 So saying, away sailed the woman of quality, seizing 
 the arm of Helen, who, in her surprise and sorrow, 
 looked really as ill as her mortified sister, whilst Mr. 
 Palmer inwardly swore that his " excellent cuisine " 
 should never more be tried by that cruel, conceited 
 old woman, if she were his neighbour for a century. 
 He did not say a single word during their drive ; and, 
 on arriving at the Opera House, told his servants 
 merely to drive round, as he should not remain more 
 than half an hour. 
 
 The dismay which overspread Arthur's face when 
 be found that Georgiana was left behind assured Lady
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 269 
 
 Anne that she had been perfectly right in her proceed- 
 ings, since, by quashing all idle hopes, both parties 
 would see the necessity of conquering their foolish 
 passion. In the mean time, she had a something not 
 very unlike pleasure in the pain she was inflicting, for 
 she felt that both parties merited punishment — Arthur 
 for daring to suppose a man in his situation could love 
 and marry, as his brother might do ; and Georgiana 
 for being such an idiot as to think of him after her 
 warning. She must positively break with the Pal- 
 mers ; there was nothing else for it — they were so ig* 
 norant, and had such strange notions. 
 
 But, although Mr. Palmer gave her the opportunity > 
 for he was certainly in high dudgeon, and accounted 
 for the absence of Georgiana as arising from '' the 
 whim of her mother, since Mrs. Palmer herself had 
 planned the party, and was the last woman living to 
 deprive the young of any rational pleasures," still her 
 ladyship took no steps towards a quarrel. She had 
 the consolation of knowing that any offence given to 
 her dignity could be avenged on the delinquent who 
 caused it, an act of justice which could not fail to be 
 consolatory, since every one of her daughters had at 
 times stood in stead of *' guid King James's whipping- 
 boy,'' when circumstances arose to disturb the 
 equanimity of Lady Anne's imperious and irascible 
 temper. 
 
 The house was crowded, the entertainment exqui- 
 site, and, to the brothers, it was so absolute a novelty,
 
 270 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 that, despite of the disappointment one experienced 
 and the other resented, both became absorbed and de- 
 lighted with music and spectacle so enchanting. The 
 more Helen was pleased, the more was she grieved 
 that her sister did not share that pleasure ; and 
 her artless expressions on this subject, together 
 wdth her observations on the performance, pleased 
 Lord Meersbrook very much, and he began to think 
 her actually prettier than either of her sisters, though 
 the dazzling brilliancy of complexion possessed both 
 by Louisa and Georgiana flung all others into the 
 shade. The circumstance which pleased him the most 
 in her, was the evidently repelling coldness with which 
 she received a gentleman whom he had seen her dance 
 with more than once on the evening of her mother's 
 party, and who accosted her with the air of a man 
 evidently well with himself, and presuming he was so 
 with her. 
 
 This was Sir Harry Calthorpe, who had indeed paid 
 her much attention at that time, and appeared studi- 
 ously to avoid botli her sisters, a circumstance that 
 miorht arise either from delicacy or pique. She, how- 
 ever, well remembered what Louisa had said of him ; 
 and, although without any idea of attracting attention 
 from Lord Meersbrook, and at the risk of offending her 
 mother, she evidently shrunk from him with the feehng 
 that might be supposed to influence the sensitive plant 
 on the approacli of an injurious touch. There was 
 enough of the fashionable roue in the look and man-
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 271 
 
 ner of the rich baronet to assure Lord Meersbrook that 
 Helen, modest and artless as she was, properly esti- 
 mated his character, and wisely repelled his atten- 
 tions, whatever might be his rank and pretensions, 
 and he gave her credit for more of the virtues in her 
 sex necessary for his own standard of female excel- 
 lence than any person he had seen. He was by the 
 same rule more charitably inclined to Lady Anne than 
 either his brother or Mr. Palmer, concluding that 
 some indiscretion on Georgiana's part was the true 
 cause of the mother's conduct ; and though he could 
 certainly forgive any thing arising from love of Ar- 
 thur, yet a prudent duenna might not ; the customs of 
 the people amongst whom he had resided so long ne- 
 cessarily remained impressed upon him as proper, but 
 he already saw the value of intelligence in companion- 
 ship, which could only be the gift of education and 
 freedom, and was certain that a short time would re- 
 concile him to European life in all things save the 
 flirtations of married women. 
 
 Mr. Palmer kept his word : he told Lady Anne 
 that his carriage would be found waiting her pleasure 
 at twelve ; and then, shaking hands with Lord Meers- 
 brook and the honourable lieutenant, departed. Lady 
 Anne almost thought his going w^as a ruse, as the lat- 
 ter left the box soon afterwards ; but his place was 
 soon occupied by the Marquis of Wentworthdale, who 
 so pathetically lamented the absence of Georgiana, 
 which was attributed to indisposition, that the wily
 
 272 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 mother now saw clearly for which daughter the ho- 
 nour of his hand was designed. His admiration of 
 Louisa had led him to fix on the sister who most re- 
 sembled her, and whose scarcely developed form cer- 
 tainly promised the same splendid beauty so striking 
 in Mrs. Penrhyn — *' Mistress, plain, unadorned Mis- 
 tress Penrhyn,'"* thought Lady Anne, and her aristo- 
 cratic lip curled with contempt and vexation. 
 
 " Alas ! there was no chance of release for Louisa. 
 Charles Penrhyn would live for ages ; otherwise, how 
 magnificent would her beauty have appeared in black ; 
 and how certainly, in a few years, would she have ac- 
 quired the understanding necessary for using it to ad- 
 vantao-e — it was no use to think ; that case was a lost 
 one, but Georgiana's was in her hands ; she was her 
 mistress, to all intents and purposes, for the next three 
 years, and much less time than that would serve to 
 mould her to her mother's wishes.*' For a moment 
 Lady Anne lingered on the possibility that she might 
 marry the sailor, secure his little fortune (for surely 
 he had something), and a pension from his early death, 
 by which time she would unquestionably be much hand- 
 somer, as well as much wiser — but no ! even five years, 
 in whicli all this might take place comfortably, could 
 not be allowed on the Marquis''s account — she stole a 
 glance at him ; he was absorbed, enchanted, by the 
 prima donna, and really looked very interesting, as 
 most people do in a state of excitement ; but Lady 
 Anne could not be deceived — in five years' time he
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 273 
 
 would become dyspeptic, be surrounded by physicians, 
 consigned to all the Badens in Germany, and think 
 much more of a renovating draught than a beautiful 
 young wife. 
 
 " Marrying will make a new man of him ; the mix- 
 ture of care and comfort, of pride in his children and 
 fear for his wife, will keep him out of the hands of the 
 faculty — it will be her health that will sink, not his. 
 But should she die ?— how much better to yield her 
 breath Marchioness of Wentworthdale, Viscountess 
 Conisburgh, Baroness of Horton Roberts, &c. &c. &c., 
 than as the wife of — pshaw 1 I have no patience to 
 think of a fellow poorer than even Charles Penrhyn ! 
 
 "But were she his wife, she would not die — she 
 would be healthy and happy, like Louisa — how shock-* 
 ing !^a living disgrace is worse than a dead one, for 
 the dead are soon forgotten and constantly forgiven." 
 
 At the moment when Lady Anne's soliloquy had 
 reached this consolatory conclusion, the Marquess 
 very affectionately wished her good-night, adding, 
 *' that, on the morrow, he should call to inquire after 
 the fair Georgiana." Lady Anne was perfectly aware 
 that he left her at the moment when his services might 
 have been useful, but she thought his conduct perfectly 
 natural, for the house was hot and the evening cold. 
 Lord Meersbrook was kind and attentive, and, as they 
 left the box, to her great relief, her whom she desig- 
 nated " the sailor" appeared and offered her his arm ; 
 for, angry as he had been, " she was the mother of that 
 
 n5
 
 374? LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 angel of a girl;" and with so much kindness did he 
 guard her from all inconveniences, accommodate him- 
 self to all movements, that she could not forbear la- 
 menting that he had not stepped into his brother'^s 
 shoes. She was, how^ever, recalled to her more angry 
 feelings by finding that both himself and brother had 
 entered into the roomy vehicle of Mr. Palmer, and 
 were accompanying them to Welbeck Street ; on which 
 she determined to be set down at her own house, 
 and immediately dispatch Fanchette for Georgiana. 
 Scarcely had she come to this determination, which 
 included more self-denial than she was disposed to 
 make, than she found that the coachman drew up, of 
 his own accord, to her door, which was immediately 
 opened. 
 
 '' I did not tell you to set me down here,"'* said Lady 
 Anne, " did I ?" for her late intentions bewildered her 
 a little. 
 
 " No, my lady, your ladyship didn't say nothink 
 to me, V»ut master told rne as how I must take you 
 home; uur family are all in bed, hours ago — Miss 
 Georgina went home afore eleven." 
 
 The latter part of the sentence made amends for the 
 former ; as it was so late, Lady Anne could not think 
 of inviting the gentlemen, especially as she knew Lord 
 Meersbrook was setting out for Kent the day following. 
 After exchanging a sentence with Fanchette, which re- 
 lated to provision for her own comfort, she turned to 
 them and observed, she was happy to learn " Georgiana
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 275 
 
 was better since she had been in bed," and bade good- 
 night, to the evident discomfort of Arthur, who yet 
 could not forbear laughing at the way " in which the 
 old cat had choused them." 
 
 " She will not do so when you come back, Arthur, 
 depend upon it — the ban will soon be taken off, I 
 trust.'' 
 
 Arthur did not understand what his brother meant, 
 nor, at the moment, care to inquire ; for, a light ap- 
 pearing in an upper room, he was content to gaze 
 upon it, and, like Lorenzo, 
 
 " sigh his soul towards the place 
 
 Where Jesse lay that night."
 
 276 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A short time passed ere the generous heart of the 
 elder of these brothers experienced a shock which was 
 as great an infliction to liis feeUngs as if he had been 
 positively deprived of his birthright, his position in 
 society, any, or all, of the good things which Provi- 
 dence had bestowed on him. He was received with 
 the fondest possible welcome by his grandfather and 
 an aged sister, who resided with liim, and had been 
 the constant friend and first instructor of their beloved 
 Frederic ; nor was Arthur met with less affection, 
 although much less known, because they held him in 
 the light of an heroic preserver to their greatest trea- 
 sure. A very short time served to prove how worthy 
 he was both of their love and esteem ; the manly sin- 
 cerity, the professional simplicity and openness of his 
 heart, with the sweetness of his cheerful temper, and 
 that novel way of looking at the world peculiar to the 
 noble-spirited and unhackneyed seaman, rendered him 
 equally dear and delightful to all around him. Mrs. 
 Margaretta Hales (who ne'*er had changed, or wished 
 to change, her name) declared that, in three days, he 
 had done her more good for a rheumatic affection than
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 277 
 
 any doctor within ten miles of Brokesbourne had been 
 able to effect — that his face, though brown, was as 
 bright as sunshine, and his laugh was like music in 
 the house, which had been melancholy enough since 
 Frederic went to those far distant countries ; but 
 which, since the death of his father, had been gloomy 
 to misery. 
 
 However intense the love of Lord Meersbrook was 
 for his brother, yet he had felt some little misgivings 
 as to the way he would impress two people so ad- 
 vanced in life, as his venerable grandfather and his 
 great aunt. In his own schoolboy days, he well re- 
 membered that, with great tenderness, and many in- 
 dulgences, there were yet many lectures given, and 
 many rules made, into which he had fallen easily, but 
 which Arthur never could observe more than an hour 
 at a time ; for, however willing to be on his good 
 behaviour, that buoyancy of boyish spirits Miss Edge- 
 worth happily terms ''superfluous animation" was 
 continually goading him into the perpetration of petty 
 mischiefs and boisterous merriment. This disposition 
 his subsequent life had not tended to change in any 
 considerable degree, though increased knowledge, 
 with much observation, and a little reading, had 
 rendered the gaiety of the young man a very differ- 
 ent thing to the obstreperous mirth of the boy. Few 
 persons of his age had seen so much of climates and 
 races as Arthur, for he had -been two or three years 
 wdth his father in different parts of India, before he
 
 278 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 was allowed to devote himself to the service, in which, 
 since then, he had been constantly engaged, but which 
 had allowed him to make trips to various cities in 
 Europe, and associate with persons of every descrip- 
 tion ; for neither the greatest nor the gravest ever 
 shunned the noble-looking youth, whose countenance 
 was the index of truth and integrity, who bore an 
 ancient and honoured name, akin to a title won 
 by essential services to his native country. This 
 variety of introduction, even that which included the 
 monotony of courts, had had a happy effect on his 
 manners, which, however excited, could never be 
 coarse, and however situated, were self- controlled. 
 It was long since he had found himself so tiied as by 
 Lady Anne, whom he gravely called '* a great liar " 
 for saying her daughter was poorly, and *' a great 
 tyrant" for keeping the poor girl at home, and then 
 vanished, in the belief that his self-command would 
 return the sooner for removing from her presence. 
 This circumstance took place, to a sufficient degree, 
 as we have seen, for the purposes of civility, being 
 undoubtedly assisted by the hope, which was frus- 
 trated, of seeing Georgiana again. Not doing so 
 (though he laughed at the moment) was, in fact, a 
 great mortification, and he journeyed towards Meers- 
 brook Hall by no means in the humour calculated to 
 make Frederic assured on the subject of his intended 
 application to his grandfather. We must glance at 
 the early life of the elder brother also.
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 279 
 
 Out young nobleman, fond of learning, and parti- 
 cularly desirous to please a father, of whom, for many 
 years, he saw very little, applied himself with great 
 diligence to the study of the oriental languages, and 
 at fourteen had made such progress, that his father 
 became desirous of seeing him, to the extreme of 
 anxiety — a feeling awakened the more from the loss 
 of his daughter, and being then engaged in an em- 
 bassy to Persia, and previously ennobled. Frederic, 
 under due escort, proceeded to Persia, and the long 
 parted brothers had a year of each other's society, 
 alike sweet and beneficial to both, but which did not 
 for an hour disarrange either the wishes or intentions 
 of the younger, who was even then the taller and the 
 older looking, notwithstanding the marked likeness 
 between them. The parting was very painful to 
 both, but most probably got over much the soonest 
 by Arthur, busied by his new duties and perpetual 
 change of scene. Frederic sorrowed so deeply that 
 his father saw a positive necessity for some new mo- 
 tive for exertion, and he soon engaged him in learn- 
 ing all the manly and graceful exercises for which 
 certain races in the East have always been distin- 
 guished, possessing already many of those noble Arab 
 horses which might tempt him to exercise them. 
 
 The plan succeeded entirely, his health and his 
 stature improved, his timidity vanished, and a proper 
 sense of his own situation, in its value and its duties, 
 succeeded, without destroying that modesty always
 
 280 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 pleasing in youth, or impairing that habitual and 
 affectionate obedience to his father, which had been 
 implanted from his cradle during his residence at 
 Meersbrook. The quietness and gravity of Eastern, 
 especially Mahommedan manners, fell upon a soil 
 calculated, in his case, to nourish the seed j but this 
 by no means prevented the natural hilarity of youth 
 from constituting a large portion of his existence, 
 and he became to his father the lightener of his many- 
 cares, and the dispenser of all his pleasures. His 
 knowledge was of the kind daily called into action, 
 his accomplishments those which could be estimated 
 by all around him ; and his affections found their con- 
 stant exercise in attending to the wishes, or promot- 
 ing the honour of his beloved father, or in writing to 
 his wandering brother, and contriving the means of 
 enjoying short, but most cordial and happy inter- 
 views. 
 
 The Viscount Meersbrook' s fatal illness was short 
 and severe, but it did not affect his senses, and thereby 
 deprive him of knowing that his idolized son watched 
 his pillow day and night, with an anxiety and tender- 
 ness which supplied even the wife and daughter he 
 had lost. When able to speak, he gave directions, on 
 many circumstances in public business, in which his 
 son might supply his place to the country, for which 
 he had long and successfully laboured ; but, these 
 duties and services carefully performed, he earnestly 
 desired him to return to his own countrv.
 
 LADY ANNE GRAKARD* S81 
 
 *' You must be to my father," said the dying man, 
 "' what I should have been, the staff on which his de- 
 clining years must lean ; and you must also become 
 the careful guiding friend, as well as dear companion, 
 of Arthur. You will, 1 hope, marry soon, for you 
 will be happiest in that state j and I trust you will 
 find aome good girl, whose integrity and affection will 
 equal your own. You will not need to seek wealth ; 
 though I was happy with one who gave me much ; it 
 is not a common case, for suspicion is often attached 
 to it. Either marry a well-informed, religious woman, 
 or a tractable, well-disposed girl, whom you may in- 
 struct. Marry soon ; but be careful in choosing, and 
 avoid, as you would the fang of the serpent, that class 
 of married women who seek to charm the senses of 
 young, unpractised men, for their mere pride of con- 
 quest." 
 
 ''Married women, father?" cried Frederic, whose 
 very soul was absorbed in his anxiety to catch every 
 venerated word. 
 
 '' Yes, my son ; avoid them, tremble when you 
 approach them ; guard poor Arthur also, he is hand- 
 some and thoughtless. I would he, too, were mar- 
 ried ; but — ■ — " 
 
 Frederic thought he understood the bid, and silently 
 did he lift his heart to heaven, promising himself tliat 
 no want of means in his power to bestow should be 
 wanting to his brother's happiness. After a little rest, 
 Lord Meersbrook, as if reading the thoughts of his
 
 282 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 son, explained to him his own future situation, his 
 means of supporting his dignities ; and exacted from 
 him a promise, not to disturb, by any act of unwise 
 generosity, the provision he had made for Arthur. 
 
 " Leave my brave boy to conquer fortune. If his 
 country helps him, well (I am sure he will help her 
 when occasion serves) ; if not, let him work on — his 
 character is essentially that which will be happiest in 
 the struggle for independence ; money might ener- 
 vate — perhaps corrupt him. No, no, my glorious 
 sailor son shall help himself, happy in that his kind 
 and watchful brother will be a father to his family — 
 if — if — he must fall.'* 
 
 The images awakened were too affecting, and the 
 dying father ceased to speak ; conscious he had left 
 nothing undone for his earthly connexions, he sought 
 to fix his mind steadily on those objects most worthy 
 of it, nor would his son disturb him by a question or 
 an allusion to any earthly thing. Agonizing as were 
 his sorrows, forlorn and destitute as he must soon be- 
 come, he struggled to suppress the suffocating sob 
 that might reach the ear and wound the heart of his 
 beloved parent ; and whilst silent tears poured as a 
 deluge from his eyes, from his hand alone did the 
 sufferer receive the anodyne, which might soothe 
 though it could not save. 
 
 We will dwell no longer on this awful episode in 
 our story ; we seek not to recall sorrow to the feeling 
 and bereaved bosom ; suffice to say, that the young
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 283 
 
 nobleman, our well loved Frederic, suffered much 
 and suffered long, but eventually he fulfilled all his 
 father's wishes and duties, and that, with a due and 
 kindly consideration for the honoured dead and the 
 worthy living, it was so ordered, that Arthur visited 
 him, and in due time accompanied him to his native 
 land. On this occasion. Lord Meersbrook was less 
 the mourner than the consoler of his brother, who, 
 from circumstances, did not learn the loss he had sus- 
 tained for near a twelvemonth, and on arriving at 
 Ispahan almost felt as if he was about to witness the 
 funeral of his father. 
 
 This circumstance, of course, knit the hearts of 
 these two amiable young men more closely than ever, 
 and the accident which occurred in the Channel 
 placed them in the situation of the royal friends 
 mentioned in the Old Testament : — '' Very pleasant 
 hath thy love been unto me, my brother Jonathan, sur- 
 passing the love of woman." Nevertheless, woman 
 has her day, even where the dearest friends and 
 strongest bonds of consanguinity forbid the bands. 
 Arthur, whose feelings were always impetuous, had 
 ceased to weep for his father and rejoice over his 
 brother ; but the " great deeps" of his soul had been 
 stirred within him ; and at the very time when the 
 commotion was subsiding into that state he would 
 have called a " lull," Beauty crossed his path. Love 
 followed in the wake ; and he entered at once into all 
 the pains and penalties, the bitter sweets, and sor- 
 rowful pleasures, which belong to his votaries.
 
 284 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 But, as tho reader will conceive, it was no part of 
 his nature to be a sighing swain 3 and, although 
 he had heard many good stories told on board of 
 manceuvring dowagers and slighted younger brothers, 
 and had witnessed a specimen of such circumstances 
 occurring, it yet could not enter his head that he 
 could long cruise in any seas without securing the 
 prize he sought. There was not a shadow of self- 
 conceit in this conclusion ; he might have said, with 
 great truth, *' she had eyes and she chose me;" but 
 his personal advantages, great as they w^ere, never 
 crossed his mind. His point to stand upon was the 
 circumstance of being a sailor ; he did not underrate 
 noble alliance and ancient blood, for he thought them 
 capital ballast ; but he had so often cheered, in his 
 heart, as well as by his tongue, " the lass that loves a 
 sailor," that she had become to him the " queen of 
 beauty \' and, of all other good and great qualities, 
 therefore, in order to render poor Georgiana the per- 
 fection of her sex, she must be and should be the said 
 '* lass,'' the *' Black-eyed Susan," the ** lovely Nan," 
 the " bright particular star," for whose sake he could, 
 like Romeo, have been " cut up into little ones." 
 
 As every thought and wush was told to his brother 
 as they rose, and it was evident that the power of 
 rambling and talking greatly increased that passion 
 which Dr. Johnson truly observed was " much less 
 prevalent in London than the country," Lord Meers- 
 brook looked anxiously for the time in which he could
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 285 
 
 best open his heart, and explain his wishes to his 
 grandfather. He one day prevailed on Arthur to go 
 out without him, and accompany his aunt to pay 
 morning visits in the family-coach, though a vessel for 
 which it was certain he had no penchant ; but he really 
 loved the old lady, and was much in the habit of com- 
 paring her with poor Lady Anne, by no means to the 
 advantage of the younger party. It was not difficult, 
 during their absence, to lead the conversation, which 
 always veered either to the life or the death of the 
 late lord ; and, on this occasion, Sir Edward Hales 
 made more particular inquiries than he had ever done 
 before as to the last words and actions of a son who 
 had been the pride of his life, not less than the centre 
 of his affections. 
 
 His grandson told him all that had passed on that 
 awful occasion, allowing no literal deviation from 
 truth, yet, probably, raising his voice the loudest when 
 he repeated the praises of Arthur, and sinking it some- 
 what below the claims of an aged ear, when he re- 
 verted to the denial of his father respecting the alien- 
 ation of property necessary for the support of his own 
 dignities, and most happy was he when the old gen- 
 tleman exclaimed eagerly — 
 
 " But Arthur had not risked his life for yours, at 
 that time ! he had not preserved you from drowning 
 then !" 
 
 " He had not, my dear sir : neither had he placed 
 his affections upon a well-born, but unportioned girl,
 
 286 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 who is really lovely and amiable ; these two reasons 
 render me extremely anxious for his future welfare. 
 I honour my father's judgment, and concede to his 
 opinion, and wish not to give our dear sailor any sud- 
 den accession of wealth, which he may not, at present, 
 be qualified to use, and which his ' ladye love' would 
 not desire ; for both herself and sisters have had the 
 mortifications which belong to poverty for years, and 
 have gained the knowledge which can counteract its 
 pressure. I speak not from my own observation, but 
 that of Mrs. Palmer, the excellent woman who so 
 kindly nursed my lamented sister, and whom Augusta 
 held dear as a mother." 
 
 '* You could quote no better authority, Frederic ; 
 but go on, say what you wish to be done for poor 
 Arthur." 
 
 " Such an assurance of property as may enable him 
 to ask her mother's consent, and satisfy the earl, her 
 uncle." 
 
 " Who is he, Frederic ?^ 
 
 ** Lord Rotheles, sir ; of course, I do not know 
 
 him." 
 
 " Nor I, much, thank God ! he ran away with 
 another man's wife, and his own divorced him, if I 
 remember the story right ; nevertheless, the impres- 
 sion was that he was more of a dupe than a knave. 
 Be that as it may, he is not a man whom a Hales can 
 desire connection with ; but he helps his sister, Lady 
 Anne Granard, who is a proud, cold-hearted woman, 
 and ruined her worthy husband."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 287 
 
 '^ \ have heard as much, but her daughters are only 
 the more to be pitied ; it is of the youngest but one I 
 have spoken." 
 
 '* I hke it not, I like it not, Frederic ! Seldom 
 comes a fair bird from a foul nest. Arthur had better 
 suffer for a month than for a life ; he must forget her ; 
 'twill be no great thing for a gay-hearted young man, 
 like him. Promotion must be his mistress, and, in 
 doing his best to attain her, he will forget ' the pale, 
 unripened beauty of the North." *' 
 
 " My father wished us both to marry early — more 
 especially myself. I will not think of it till I see poor 
 Arthur settled, for he wished that also ; and he has 
 often told me that our family were singular from 
 the constancy of their attachments. Both yourself 
 and him, dear grandpapa, were left young, handsome 
 widowers, with extremely small families, yet you formed 
 no second connection. Aunt Margaretta w^as only sus- 
 pected of an attachment, and she has remained true 
 to the sentiment, yet must have had many suitors. I 
 am convinced it will be my owm case, should I find an 
 object worthy my affection ; and I have no right to 
 place my brother out of the family pale ; he may be 
 more rapid in his conclusions, more easily struck, and 
 more ardently excited, but I yet beheve he will be 
 true to the family virtue, for such I consider it ; we 
 have it on both sides, for my mother was a martyr to 
 her love for my father." 
 
 *' Your mother was an angel, Frederic," said the
 
 288 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 old gentleman, after a long pause ; '* it goes much 
 against the grain to think of giving any son of hers to 
 the daughter of Lady Anne Granard ; yet, I will con- 
 fess, I loved Rotheles, her father, and I liked her hus- 
 band very much ; it may be possible that her daugh- 
 ters inherit on the right side of the house. I will con- 
 sider what I can do." 
 
 " Dear, good, generous grandfather, you can do 
 every thing; you can place Arthur in the situation 
 assigned to me, the heir of Sir Edward Hales." 
 
 Sir Edward suddenly started from his chair ; his 
 thin and generally bending form became erect and 
 stately, and his sunken eyes emitted a stream of lam- 
 bent fire, as he exclaimed : — 
 
 *' Degenerate boy ! was it to this end you became 
 the child I fostered in my bosom, to the forming of 
 whose mind I bent all the powers of my own ? whose 
 departure I lamented with tears a thousand times ; 
 for whom 1 have cared and toiled_, curtailing my ex- 
 pences that I might enlarge the estates meant for your 
 enjoyment ? Do you cast from you the birthright of 
 ancestors, ennobled by their virtues far more than you 
 are by your new honours ?• Remember the fate of liim 
 who sold his birthright, and afterwards ' found no 
 place for repentance, though he sought it carefully 
 with many tears.' " 
 
 Lord Meersbrook did not reply ; he was discomfited 
 and rebuked, yet not, therefore, self-convicted of error, 
 since he knew his motives to be high and pure, and
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 289 
 
 was sensible that he ought rather to be charged 
 with too much pride, in his origin, than too little 
 regard for its claims. The baronet resumed the 
 subject. 
 
 " Shall these woods be cut down, young man, 
 whose arms have waved their branches over the graves 
 of your Saxon ancestors ! this house, honoured by the 
 visit of the virgin queen — these walks, planned by 
 Bacon, haunted by Raleigh, and praised by Burleigh 
 — landscapes that have been described in the Arcadia 
 of Sir Philip Sidney and the pages of Spencer, be re- 
 signed without a sigh — given as a toy — or probably 
 sold for a song to pay the throw of a die, or shine on 
 the throat of a girl — swell the orgies of a bellowing 
 crew, or be swept away by an election, which may 
 save a spendthrift creditor from a merited jail ! Must 
 my anxious management, my prudent retrenchments, 
 dear Margaretta's savings, all go 1" 
 
 " Pardon me, sir — pardon me for interrupting you, 
 but I must speak. Arthur will do none of the things 
 you fear. Though possessing a generosity that would 
 be princely, he honours our dear father's lessons far 
 too much to be imprudent, and he loves me far too 
 well to grieve me by that extravagance unhappily too 
 common amongst men of his profession. He never 
 plays, save for the triumph of skill ; and, with no less 
 attachment than myself for these distinguished shades, 
 he has not less pride in them, and, were they in dan- 
 ger, would give all he possesses, or ever will possess, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 ^90 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 to redeem them. Had I not fully relied on his cha- 
 racter, dearly as I love him, and anxious as I am to 
 evince that love by more than words, I could not have 
 proposed it ; and remember, dear Sir Edward, I did 
 not ask you to give your estates. Long, very long, 
 may it be before they are bequeathed. Time will, I 
 trust, have taught Arthur wisdom long ere then, and 
 myself also, and your fears will be confined to our 
 children. May they be what all the Hales have been, 
 and the lesson will be short !" 
 
 " Perhaps I have spoken hastily — too hastily ; but 
 I am an old man, and the apprehensions of age err as 
 much on one side as the romance of youth on the 
 other." 
 
 " Dear grandfather, you forget that you began life 
 early, and have felt its sorrows acutely ; but I have 
 always understood that the old age of a virtuous life 
 was long and gentle. I have been wrong to urge this 
 suit ; I will do so no more. 1 have over-valued my 
 life, and sought to pay too high a price for that which 
 has yet to prove its worth." 
 
 " Don't say that, Frederic ; don't say that. You 
 have been the stay and blessing of my life, and the 
 comfort of your idolized father's ; your feelings are 
 worthy of you^ and my local attachments not, I trust, 
 unworthy me. If for the first time in your life they 
 have jarred, yet, in point of fact, our sense of your 
 obligation and of your devotedness to your brother is 
 alike binding ; and, if I had not been averse to the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 291 
 
 connexion Arthur contemplates, I should not have 
 started from the proposition in the manner I did, 
 though the matter must remain the same. Here come 
 my sister and the subject of our solicitude 3 let us take 
 both into our councils/' 

 
 292 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "Arthur, my dear fellow, I understand from Frederic 
 that, during your short residence in town, you ven- 
 tured to fall in love ?" 
 
 A torrent of blushes rose to the brow of the accused, 
 and he gave Frederic an angry look. *' Was this kind, 
 Lord Meersbrook ?" broke from his lips. 
 
 " It was meant for kindness, of a quality you are 
 not likely to meet again, even among your naval 
 friends, Arthur, for your brother wants me to disin- 
 herit him for the sake of conciliating Lady Anne Gra- 
 nard." 
 
 " Lady Anne be ! I beg pardon, but she is 
 
 no more like Aunt Margaret than a jib boom's like a 
 compass, and the last woman living I should choose 
 to knuckle to. I would not take a rood of land from 
 Frederic to be appointed to a man-of-war to-morrow 
 morning, for I looked on it as his (God grant it may 
 be long ere he touch it !) ever since I was the height 
 of a handspike. VVliy, the place is positively sacred, 
 as old as the hills, and belongs to eldest sons of eldest 
 sons from generation to generation. For aught I 
 know, Adam planted the garden, and Eve watered the
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 293 
 
 flowers ; however, be it what it may, I have nothing 
 to do with it beyond admiring it, and thinking a gen- 
 tle swell and a light breeze would make it all the 
 pleasanter.*' 
 
 " But how are you to make a wife a settlement, 
 Arthur ?" 
 
 '' I have got five thousand pounds of my own, and, 
 with the interest of that and half of my pay, if she 
 cannot live in a cottage near Portsmouth very snug, 
 I shall wonder. The first lieutenant's wife hasn't 
 so much, and the captain's very little more ; when 
 prize money or promotion comes, of course she wnll 
 have the best share, and shall have lumber of her own 
 in abundance."" 
 
 " I fear she will not be content with that ; I am 
 sure her mother will not." 
 
 " Those cat-like mothers, who beat off their chil- 
 dren at a given period, have no claims on them ; and, 
 if Georgiana can't take a warm heart and a decent 
 cabin, I'll whistle her down the wind speedily, as 
 pretty as she is, and as modest looking. I ask for no- 
 thing but love on her part, and I give both that and 
 all my worldly goods (to say nothing of my being a 
 sailor) into the bargain. Then look at my connexions, 
 and " 
 
 " And yourself^ dear Arthur,'" said the old lady ; 
 " I am sure, if I were a young girl, I should look at 
 you very often, and think nothing too much to give 
 you."
 
 294 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " Well said, Margaret ; though you are not young, 
 there is no love lost between you, and we shall keep 
 you to your word." 
 
 " With all my heart, provided Frederic thinks it 
 right, for you know, poor dear boy, he was my first 
 love ; and I certainly have been saving for him these 
 twenty years. I had rather ^ivethan leave, so, what- 
 ever I have that you think I can spare, take it at once. 
 There is this convenience, it is all at hand, as one may 
 say; and since here I was born, and here I hope to 
 die, a very little will serve me, if you buy Judith an 
 annuity." 
 
 " Well done, sister ! Who says the heart grows 
 cold as the man grows old ?" 
 
 " But I am not a man, brother, you know." 
 
 " No, Margaretta, I could almost wish you were, for 
 there would be a good man the more amongst us, and 
 the world needs such. I think, if we enable Arthur 
 to settle six hundred a year on her daughter. Lady 
 Anne cannot grumble, since her own husband was 
 only able to leave her and all her children less. But 
 of her, in point of fact, I do not think ; our business 
 is to render Arthur happy, and place him in the situa- 
 tion his father would have desired to see him occupy. 
 Frederic will furnish his house, and find a wedding 
 present for his lady, and if, as he says, she will live 
 near the coast, or at Leamington, or Bath, they will 
 do very well." 
 
 " Or at Tunbridge Wells, brother, for then we can
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 295 
 
 send all kind of things by the carrier every Friday. 
 Fruit, eggs, butter, poultry, game, bacon, tongues, 
 pies, cream, and many more things, which will come 
 into my head by degrees." 
 
 " The slower the better, say I." 
 " PigeonS; too, and venison ; mince meat and 
 potted veal ; cakes of all kinds, can be carried,'* said 
 Mrs. Margaret, speaking in soliloquy, 
 
 " What a cormorant"'s nest that woman is filling ! 
 by and by we shall have the ' beeves and the beer, 
 and the jolly new year,' following en train ,'* said the 
 good baronet. 
 
 " Oh, grandpapa," said Arthur, looking with the 
 affectionate yet half ashamed face of days gone by, 
 " how good you are to think of doing so much for me 
 now that you don't know Georgiana ! I know not 
 
 what to say ; I feel that " 
 
 " That you could give better than take, my dear 
 fellow. But that would not be altogether right to 
 those so much your elders ; so make yourself as happy 
 as you can under your circumstances. I can rely on 
 Meersbrook's judgment in this affair, because he is 
 not in love, you know ; and I can rely on your word, 
 if you give it me, to do nothing in a hurry, nothing 
 that shall induce the world to look lightly on her who 
 is to bear your name, and find countenance and kind- 
 ness from your family.**' 
 
 *' I do pledge you my word to that effect. I expect 
 to be called to my ship every day, and all I desire
 
 296 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 for the present is, permission to correspond with 
 Georgiana, for I have reason to believe I shall not be 
 long absent. We are both of us young enough I 
 know to wait, but I confess I am by no means patient 
 in matters that concern one nearly." 
 
 Whilst these things were going on in Kent, what 
 were the " sayings and doings" of Welbeck Street ? 
 for thither we must return, though to quit the family 
 party at Meersbrook, in their integrity and kindness, 
 to contemplate Lady Anne and her contrivances, is 
 quitting the light of day for the gloom of Stygian 
 night. 
 
 " Georgiana, put on your blue muslin, and ask 
 Fanchette to make your hair a little comme-il-faut ; 
 and pray try to look well and cheerful ; you were not 
 up late, and ought to appear the better for it." 
 
 " I slept very little last night, 1 confess, ma'am." 
 
 '' Then take a turn in the square, but don't stay a 
 moment beyond the half hour — you will still have 
 time to change your dress." 
 
 " What is mamma going to do, I wonder?" said 
 Georgiana to Helen. 
 
 " I fear to tell you, my love, yet I think I ought to 
 do so. The Marquis of Wentworthdale is going to 
 call and see if you are better. Lady Anne told him 
 last night you were poorly." 
 
 " He is a very nice old man, and if he wants to 
 say any thing particular to mamma, he can surely do 
 it better than through the medium of her daughters."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 297 
 
 " rie thinks nothing about her — you are his object, 
 80 take care what you do, dear Georgiana ; for should 
 you be mistaken in the intentions of Lieutenant 
 Hales, you will have a terrible persecution to undergo, 
 I can foresee." 
 
 " I am not mistaken, Helen ; Arthur loves me, 
 but perhaps he cannot as yet ask me to marry him, 
 and I have no Mr. Glentworth to smooth the way for 
 me, as Louisa had. Happy Louisa !" 
 
 ^' Lord Meersbrook will not be wanting to his 
 brother. Mrs. Palmer said he was all that was gene- 
 rous and considerate." 
 
 " I cannot doubt that ; they are like each other in 
 both mind and person ; but if this wicked old marquis 
 should indeed have taken such a foolish fancy into 
 his head, mamma would refuse any body for his sake. 
 His title and his wealth would outweigh an angel in 
 her estimation." 
 
 Helen felt the truth of this observation too de- 
 cidedly to contradict it, and only replied by a sigh ; 
 and after walking some time in silence, Georgiana 
 said, in a hesitating voice — 
 
 ** Helen, could you like the marquis ? He is not 
 so very old, and he is really agreeable, and undoubt- 
 edly there are advantages in wealth and rank. One 
 can have many pleasures, and do a great deal of good 
 with money. Now if you think you could, perhaps 
 we might all be satisfied, for I am sure a sensible man of 
 his description, when he knows both, would prefer you.'
 
 298 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 " I don't want to marry, but I might not have 
 objected to oblige mamma a short time ago; but I 
 can no more marry him noiv than yourself. If your 
 heart refuses him, so does mine. Ask me no question, 
 I have no right to the hopes that sustain you, 
 Georgiana, but I cannot marry the marquis. In- 
 deed, I shall never marry — I shall share the fate 
 of Mary." 
 
 " Ah ! what a splendid home might my sacrifice 
 find you both. I wonder if I could forget Arthur, 
 and in my gratitude to the old man become contented 
 to be a gay, fashionable, woman." 
 
 " Think not of it for a moment ; you could not, 
 Georgiana, bear it even so well as 1, for I remem- 
 ber something of Granard Park and splendid doings, 
 but you do not, and cannot regret what you never 
 enjoyed. If you were married to the man you loved, 
 as Louisa is, though with fewer comforts than she 
 has, you would still be happy ; and oh ! how glad 
 should I be to share your humble abode, and assist 
 you to manage your little income!" 
 
 " Don't talk so, dear Helen, for I cannot be sure I 
 shall have one to manage ; and if he should say no- 
 thing till he returns from the next voyage, who 
 knows in what a situation Arthur may find me 1 
 Surely Charles and Louisa will interfere to save 
 me from persecution 1 Yet, alas 1 they would be 
 proud of the connexion ; so would Glentworth and 
 Isabella."
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 299 
 
 C( 
 
 Do not allow yourself to think of any one but 
 yourself in this case, Georgiana, for there is no occa- 
 sion. If by a great marriage you could have helped 
 all your sisters, I will not say it would have been an 
 error ; but now that we are so much better off than 
 we were, it would be cruel to yourself, and not kind 
 to us. I had a thousand times rather go on as we do 
 to the end of my days, than see you pining under the 
 load of life which no grandeur could enliven, no 
 power or splendour could sweeten." 
 
 " But Isabella married a husband far older than 
 herself, and she is happy." 
 
 " She married the man she dearly loved and pre- 
 ferred to every human being, yet she is not as happy 
 as Louisa, I am confident ; and it must be the dis- 
 parity between them which gave that anxious look 
 to her countenance. Now, you do not love the 
 marquis ?" 
 
 " Certainly not 1" 
 
 " And you do love somebody else, Georgiana ?"* 
 
 " I fear I do indeed ; but you are older than me, 
 dear Helen, and may assist to cure me." 
 
 Helen shook her head despairingly. They were a 
 little — and but a little — behind their time, but their 
 mother would have severely reprimanded them if she 
 had not feared to discompose the complacency of her 
 own features, and make the eyes of her youngest 
 daughter red. As things turned out, she '' kept up 
 appearances" most happily. Georgiana, apprehensive
 
 300 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 of words, she feared either to admit or repel, changed 
 complexion every moment, thereby justifying the 
 account given of a trifling indisposition, and when re- 
 lieved from her present fears by the pleasant and 
 general conversation of LordWentworthdale, looked up 
 to him with such an air of confiding respect, that he 
 again believed she had a certain admiration for him, 
 which might be improved into a tender sentiment ; and 
 where is the man, at his time of life, that would dis- 
 pute the possibility of a fair girl's attachment, so new 
 to the world, and supposed to be entirely free from 
 all other predilection ? 
 
 At one time the brothers were slightly alluded to, 
 as having been Lady Anne's attendants the preceding 
 evening, and the young ladies became simultaneously 
 covered with blushes. Lady Anne was angry, and 
 her own colour rose a little, as she said — " My girls 
 are both ashamed of their mother's inhospitality, 
 marquis; for those inseparable brothers came home 
 with us last night in our neighbour's coach, but as 
 Georgiana had been long in bed, and I knew Helen 
 would instantly fly to her, I did not ask them in ; in 
 fact, I was quite wearied, and I could do nothing 
 with young men by myself at so late an hour. Be- 
 sides, I knew they wanted to leave London at an 
 early one this morning." 
 
 " You were perfectly right, I am certain, nor would 
 they expect it otherwise ; for more modest and sen- 
 sible young men I never met with. The eldest has
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 301 
 
 much of the person and talent of his father; the 
 youngest is still handsomer, and is quite a naval 
 Apollo." 
 
 Georgiana did not blush, but she became pale as 
 marble, and even her breathing was impeded by the 
 terror she felt, lest her mother should read what was 
 passing in her heart. 
 
 Her fears were not in vain, for Lady Anne saw 
 through and through her victim, but her cheek did 
 not blanch, nor her pulse flutter ; when, at the moment 
 the door had closed on the marquis, she said— 
 
 *'But for my care, you would have made a very 
 pretty fool of yourself, miss ! It is become high time 
 to tell you, that by conducting yourself properly you 
 may have the unmerited honour of becoming Mar- 
 chioness of Wentworthdale ; and listen to my words, 
 for they are final. You never shall be the wife of 
 that young sailor ! No ! not if his brother endowed 
 him with half his fortune. On that point my mind 
 has been made up for years. The two sons-in-law I 
 have and the one I expected to have were all only 
 sons, and either only or eldest sons shall ever enter 
 my family," 
 
 '* Indeed, dear mamma," said Helen, ** poor Geor- 
 giana wants nobody's son," 
 
 '* 'Tis a lie /" cried Lady Anne, vehemently : " little 
 as she has seen of him, and hateful as she knows he is 
 to rwe, she has the immodesty, the shamelessness to be 
 hankering after that sailor-fellow ; and you, madam !
 
 302 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 your blushes bad a cause witbin, tbougb not without, 
 for Lord Meersbrook thinks nothing of you now ; and 
 it may be as well for you not to disgust him by your 
 forwardness, or otherwise by exhibiting your weak- 
 ness. Go away, I beseech you ; I cannot bear the 
 sight of indecent young women, even if they are my 
 daughters !" 
 
 The marquis called on the morrow, but he saw 
 only that Georgiana was unwell, and that the fur- 
 tive glances she gave him indicated that either 
 mind or body was more disordered than Lady Anne 
 would allow. He had become really fond of her as a 
 gentle and interesting girl, and the tones of his voice, 
 and the pity in his eyes, really called forth so much 
 of gratitude and esteem, that she wished for nothing 
 so much as an opportunity to tell him how sincerely 
 she thanked his intentions, and how much she was 
 grieved that she could not accede to his wishes. But 
 these wishes had never been expressed ; nor could she 
 refer to a preference to another, since that other was 
 not heard of. That letters, and callers, and presents, 
 even individuals on matters of business, had arrived at 
 the house both sisters knew ; but such good care was 
 taken, either from good-will or ill, to prevent them from 
 knowing who gave the presents, who wrote the notes, 
 who made the calls, that both sisters remained in utter 
 ignorance of circumstances which perpetually excited 
 their curiosity and anxiety, because connected with
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 303 
 
 the dearest interest the heart can know in early and 
 unmarried Ufe. 
 
 The worst of all their troubles, as a present evil, was 
 an interdict to any communication '* with the people 
 over the way ;" and for so long a time had they looked 
 to those good friends for some pleasures and many con- 
 solations — so possible was it that a single word of theirs 
 might have relieved the gloom which hung over them, 
 that the sight of Mr. Palmer would have been almost as 
 dear to their eyes as either of those graceful youths on 
 whose high brows ** the hyacinthine curls hung cluster- 
 ing." Nor was the desire unreturned,for many a regret- 
 ful look was hourly cast towards that enchanted castle, 
 which, if not environed by a moat, was certainly de- 
 fended by a warder (perhaps a she- dragon) of no com- 
 mon resolution and abilities, and who became a posi- 
 tive prisoner herself to become the jailer of others. 
 
 Louisa and her husband had repeatedly called, of 
 course ; and Helen had seen them twice for a few mi- 
 nutes only, when she appeared so distrait, that Charles 
 could not forbear to press Lady Anne to permit her to 
 return with them ** for a little change of air f but he 
 was informed *' that, as it was time for her usual trip 
 to Brighton, better air than the city environs could 
 offer would soon be obtained." The second time this 
 was mentioned, and Georgiana's company also re- 
 quested, the young couple were gravely informed, that 
 ''the young ladies' conduct had been of late by no 
 means respectful or amiable ; and it could not be sup-
 
 304 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 posed, that placing them under the roof with a person 
 so notorious for disobedience and impropriety as Mrs. 
 Penrhyn would improve their manners. With the 
 weakness too common in mothers, and which Louisa 
 would understand some time, she had been induced to 
 pardon her imprudent marriage, and forget the gross 
 improprieties which preceded it ; but " 
 
 '' Gross improprieties !"" exclaimed Charles Penrhyn, 
 in a voice of thunder-^a voice his gentle wife had never 
 heard before. " What can you mean ? What do you 
 dare to insinuate ? How can you mingle a thought of 
 my pure — - — " 
 
 " Charles, Charles ! do not speak so loud, it terrifies 
 me, it does indeed. Mamma means it was wrong to 
 leave the house clandestinely, to take refuge with stran- 
 gers, do you not, mamma?" 
 
 " Certainly I do, madam, thereby forcing your low 
 connexions upon me." 
 
 " Ought you not to add, Lady Anne,*" said Charles, 
 recovering himself a little, '' thereby saving me from 
 all wedding expenses, and enabling me to come out in 
 a new light, as a tender mother, with new schemes to 
 entrap the unwary !" 
 
 Falsehood is bad to bear — we all shrink from a scan- 
 dal ; but tj^uth is absolutely intolerable ; and Lady 
 Anne, with all her practised forbearance, her assumed 
 dignity, plausibility, or whatever other qualities she 
 might inherently possess or occasionally borrow, were 
 put instantly to the route, and violent, unmitigated
 
 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 305 
 
 rage succeeded — for what was Charles Penrhyn, that 
 she should control herself for him ? and there were few 
 words of vituperative abuse furnished by a lady's voca- 
 bulary (and even some beyond it) that were not launched 
 upon his head, as a " city tradesman/' that of the 
 '' puling baby," his wife, his flirting sister and her 
 wittol husband ; but even the last, beyond saying 
 simply " you know that to be false," failed to recall 
 the anger which had distressed Louisa, and he hastened 
 out of the house to take refuge in that of Mr. Palmer, 
 literally trembling for her safety. 
 
 When poor Louisa " had cried and was better," 
 Mr. Penrhyn, having explained, as far as was neces- 
 sary, the cause of her emotion, and referred to the cru- 
 elty of wounding any person's feelings " in his dear 
 wife's situation," Mrs. Palmer could not forbear to 
 exclaim, *' What will become of those dear girls ! they 
 will die by inches ! How I wish Lord Rotheles was 
 aware of their situation." 
 
 Louisa wept afresh, and the kind-hearted Mrs. Pal- 
 mer suddenly dropped the subject, and only sought to 
 console her visitor, who at length admitted the comfort 
 Helen's power of flight, from the time her minority 
 ceased, afforded. " Yet, how could Georgiana be left 
 alone ! her situation was now bad, then it would be 
 worse !" The young couple departed in Mr. Palmer's 
 coach, silent and sorrowful, Louisa mourning for her 
 sisters, Charles apprehensive for his wife. 
 
 Shocked by the quarrel she had witnessed, and ter- 
 
 VOL. I. o 3
 
 306 LADY ANNE GRANARD. 
 
 rified by the rage of her mother, Helen speedily re- 
 treated from the scene of combat, feeling as if she had 
 seen Louisa for the last time, and that with her had 
 departed the promise of all earthly happiness to her- 
 self and Georgiana. 
 
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