'MJ^-m"; 
 
 Vn1\ 
 
 L I E) R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLR.5ITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 8t5 
 
 v.l
 
 3V>^i:
 
 LUCY AYLMBR. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 8£5 
 v.i 
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of coats and of jackets grej, scarlet and green, 
 On the slopes of the pastures all colours were seen ; 
 Now fast up the hill came the noise and the fray, 
 The horses and horns, and then hark ! hark-away ! 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 V The distant barking of dogs, and the cheer- 
 
 ' fill sound of the huntsman's horn were wafted 
 
 3 across the clear autumn air into the open 
 
 3 windows of a low, old-fashioned drawing-room. 
 
 ^ A handsome, bright-looking girl who was read- 
 
 ^ ing aloud, hastily threw her book on the table, 
 
 ^ and snatching away her sister's work, sent 
 
 ,^ it flying across the room ; and then breaking 
 
 ::2^ out into a merry laugh, exclaimed. 
 
 " There now, Lucy, there is an end of our 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 5i LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 industrious fit, for not one word more will I 
 read to-day ! Ob, that horn ! how I wish I 
 were hunting, too ! let us go out into the gar- 
 den — perhaps, we shall see them pass across 
 the glen ; come, Lucy, come." 
 
 But Lucy was evidently of a neat tempera- 
 ment, for she first picked up her work, and 
 folding it up carefully, replaced it in her 
 basket, and when she had put a mark in the 
 book, she followed her sister out into the hall. 
 It was a curious old place ; a great table stood 
 in the centre, strewn and littered over with 
 buckskin gloves, riding, driving whips, sport- 
 ing calendars, books on angling, gardening, 
 and divers other country amusements, inter- 
 mingled with hats of every description, white 
 hats with long nap, high-cro\^Tied wide-awakes, 
 and wide-awakes with the crown smashed in ; 
 sticks with handles cut in various quaint de- 
 vices, some with grim dogs' and foxes' heads, 
 seeming copies of those which garnished the 
 walls, for what with antlers, and stags' heads, 
 foxes' heads, and guns, together with a few 
 old pictures, blackened by dust and age, the 
 \jolour of the old oak wainscoting could 
 scarcely be discerned. Half-a-dozen high-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 3 
 
 backed chairs with odd carvings and moth- 
 eaten velvet seats completed the hall furniture. 
 Close by the garden door slumbered a vene- 
 rable, toothless hound, whose days of glory in 
 the chase had long passed away, and on a 
 warm spot where the sunbeams rested, two 
 little pointer puppies, with long flapping ears, 
 and queer, mischievous looking faces, lay close 
 to each other, winking and blinking their 
 bright eyes ; but the instant the two girls 
 came across the hall, they darted up and com- 
 menced attacking their feet and the hems of 
 their dresses. 
 
 " Oh, Maude, here are our little tormentors 
 again !" exclaimed Lucy, " leave off, there's 
 good doggies !" but Maude, snatching up one 
 of the puppies, placed it on the table, and 
 commenced teaching it all sorts of antics to 
 the great amusement of Lucy, who laughed 
 till the tears ran down her cheeks. Presently 
 Maude put the little dog doT\m again, and 
 taking up a large straw hat, danced out into 
 the garden, followed by Lucy, who shut the 
 door in the face of the astonished puppies, 
 who whined, and sniffed, and tried to poke 
 their noses under the door, but failing in the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 attempt, thought proper to resume their old 
 position in the sunbeams, and continue their 
 doze. 
 
 " Which way shall we go, Maude, dear ?" 
 asked Lucy, as her sister twined her arm 
 round her waist. 
 
 "Oh I doAvn to the summer-house, to be 
 sure, there is nothing to be seen in the gar- 
 den ! come along, Lucy, ' sweet Lucy Neal' !" 
 
 " Wait a moment, Maude, I must just tie 
 my hat-strings ; there now, I'm ready." 
 
 " Then let us have a polka !" and Maude, 
 again putting her arm round the slender w^aist 
 of her sister, whirled her down to the bottom 
 of a wide, ill-kept lawn ; there they stopped 
 breathless, and threw themselves into a low 
 garden seat. 
 
 '' What fun !" exclaimed Maude, as soon as 
 she could speak, " are we not happy girls, you 
 and I, Lu ? it is so nice to do as we hke, 
 nobody to dictate, nobody to contradict us ! I 
 am sure those grand Ladies Erresford cannot 
 be half so happy as we !" 
 
 " We cannot tell that, because we do not 
 know them," replied Lucy. 
 
 "And I am sure I do not want to know
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 them," said Maude, pursing up her Up, " I 
 never intend to let any one patronise me." 
 
 " Why should you think the Ladies Erres- 
 ford would patronise ?" asked Lucy. 
 
 " I only fancy so because they are older 
 than we, and imagine themselves mighty fine, 
 I dare say." 
 
 "Don't frovm so, Maude," said Lucy 
 laughing, " we have no reason for supposing 
 the Ladies Erresford will come here, so we 
 shall not be troubled by their pride, that is 
 to say, if they are proud." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know that," continued Maude, 
 " Ralph told me this morning that Mr. Erres- 
 ford is at Castle St. Agnes, I believe he 
 arrived there yesterday." 
 
 "Yes, papa heard last week that he was 
 expected, I think he is going to arrange 
 about a new clergyman." 
 
 " I wish Mr. Eerrers had not died, I hate 
 new people, particularly models, and they 
 say ^Ir. Erresford is a model, and of course 
 the clergyman he chooses will be something 
 super-excellent. I am sure papa will not 
 like him, if he does not hunt." 
 
 " I have been thinking, Maude," and Lucv's
 
 6 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 fair face brightened as she spoke, "if Mr. 
 Erresford were to choose Robert." 
 
 "What a nice idea," exclaimed Maude, 
 " but it is too good to be reahzed, if those 
 De Waldens had wished to do any good, 
 they might have given poor Lascelles Aylmer 
 a Hving, I have no patience with some people !" 
 
 Lucy laughed as she said, "w^hat is 
 the matter with you this morning, you cer- 
 tainly are in a fit of anger against poor Lady 
 de Walden and the whole family." 
 
 "Well, because I do not want them to 
 come down here, bringing new ideas and new 
 people into Forsted ; we get on well enough 
 without them, I am sure." 
 
 " But Mr. Erresford is the only person 
 arrived at the Castle, and I dare say he will 
 not interfere with us." 
 
 "Perhaps he will call on papa, and then 
 we shall see him, how cold I shall be !" 
 
 " Perhaps, he will go to the hunt to-day," 
 suggested Lucy. 
 
 " Silly Lucy ! the idea of such a thing ! — - 
 model Mr. Erresford hunt !" — but as Maude 
 was speaking, the sounds that had first dis- 
 turbed her, again sounded on the air ; bark-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 7 
 
 ings — yelpings — tally-lioes — the tearing of 
 horses' hoofs on the sod, which while they list- 
 ened came nearer, then across the lawn almost 
 beneath their feet ran smft as Hghtning a 
 frightened, panting hare, its beautiful melan- 
 choly eyes looking straight before it, and its 
 little feet scarcely touching the sod, with such 
 rapidity did it pass. Maude held her breath 
 with interest, but the tender-hearted Lucy, for 
 an instant, closed her eyes, though the next 
 moment she lifted up her head, for on, across 
 the grounds in full chase, came the whole 
 hunting party ; foremost — whoever knew the 
 hunt where Squire Neville was not the first ? — 
 was her father, his fine handsome, English face 
 full of eager interest ; he did not even see his 
 daughters who each ejaculated, " Papa is 
 first !" — but the exclamation had scarcely 
 passed their lips when on came a horse 
 with splendid arched neck, slender legs and 
 such a beautiful head ! — a perfect king of 
 horses ! — and the rider who sat so lightly in 
 the saddle, and turned round with a bow full 
 of grace and elegance to the sisters, cer- 
 tainly was strikingly handsome — an air noble 
 — an expression at once arch and sweet —
 
 8 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 bright eyes and curling brown hair, made 
 what connoisseurs in manly beauty would 
 pronounce, a pre-eminently handsome man. 
 But while Maude and Lucy were looking after 
 him ; the stranger dashed by, and following 
 him full tilt came squires, farmers, jockeys all 
 pell mell, their horses covered with mud and 
 foam. The last of the exciting group was 
 watched out of sight with eager curiosity, and 
 then Maude exclaimed : " How I wish I were 
 with them — what glorious sport ! — but Lucy, 
 child, did you remark that lovely horse and 
 handsome rider, who could he be ?" 
 
 " He bowed to us, perhaps it is Mr. 
 Erresford," replied Lucy. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Lucy ! Mr. Erresford must be 
 older, perhaps it is Sir Joseph Eairfield's son." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I saw him last Sunday, he is 
 fair and has a stout face." 
 
 " Yes, I recollect, an insipid creature, with 
 nothing to say, is it Captain Prescott?" 
 
 " No, Captain Prescott was behind, did 
 not you see liim with large moustache ?" 
 
 " No, I wonder how I missed him, I sup- 
 pose my head was full of the handsome 
 stranger."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 9 
 
 " If he turns out to be Mr. Erresford after 
 all !" ventured Lucy, with a sly, timid glance 
 at her sister. 
 
 "Stuff!" exclaimed Maude impatiently, 
 "you are quite infatuated about Mr. Erresford ! 
 come along into the shrubbery and help me 
 pick some filberts for dessert — here is a beau- 
 tiful tree, just look at the nuts, I will hold 
 down the boughs for you, can you reach them, 
 darling ?" 
 
 " Easily, Maude, but we have no basket to 
 put them in." 
 
 " Oh, make one of your apron, or, we can 
 fill our pockets ; come Lucy, pick away." 
 Lucy's fingers were tolerably nimble, and 
 on the girls went from tree to tree, laughing 
 and talking all the way till Lucy's apron 
 strings fairlv broke beneath the weight of her 
 burden. The girls, however, made very light 
 of this little disaster, and it was only the 
 w rk of a few minutes, to gather up the nuts 
 and consign them again to the apron, which 
 Maude knotted up at the corners and carried 
 herself ; it was pretty to see how carefully she 
 spared her sister any trouble, and what pains 
 she took to pull down the boughs low enough 
 
 B 3
 
 10 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 for Lucy to reach them without much exer- 
 tion. When they had finished gathering the 
 filberts, they went round the shrubbery and 
 rested a moment in an old rustic arbour, 
 which was on a gentle rise, and commanded 
 a lovely view of the surrounding countr}% 
 with the Norman turrets of Castle St. Agnes 
 frowning in the distance from beneath a dark 
 pine wood. 
 
 *' Papa will not say we have forgotten 
 him to-day," said Maude, patting the bundle 
 in her lap. 
 
 " But he will, Maude, dear, if we do not get 
 any walnuts." 
 
 " I do not know what would become of us 
 without the help of your memory, Lucy," 
 and up started Maude out of the shrubberies, 
 across the lower edge of the lawn, and in at a 
 little wicket gate to the kitchen garden ; it 
 was a damp neglected looking place, sur- 
 rounded by overhanging elders, and full of 
 tall apple and pear trees, while the ground 
 was strewn with potatoe haulm, an old man 
 was raking together into little heaps to which 
 he set fire, and the grey smoke curled thickly 
 up towards the sky, tinged golden by an
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 11 
 
 autumn sunset. In the midst of the potatoe 
 bed was an immense walnut tree, and here 
 the girls picked their way regardless of the 
 damp earth which adhered in clods to their 
 shoes. The old man touched his hat respect- 
 fully as they passed. 
 
 " There ba'ent none on the ground, ]\liss," 
 he said, as Lucy stooped to pick up some 
 shells, " them's only empty husks — may be 
 you would like me to get the bludgeon and 
 ladder ?" 
 
 " If you please, Robbins," replied Lucy, 
 in a kind tone, " we want walnuts for 
 papa." 
 
 She [stood with her hands folded, and 
 watched the old man stumping ofP in quest 
 of the " ladder and bludgeon," the latter was 
 a great thick stick, kept for the express 
 purpose of knocking down walnuts. Maude 
 turned an old basket upside down, and sitting 
 on it, leant her face on her hands, and watched 
 the smoke ; she smiled as she did so, as if 
 some droU recollections connected with those 
 fires came into her mind. 
 
 " Robbins !" she exclaimed, as the old man 
 returned ladder in hand, " do you recollect
 
 12 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 the time when we used to roast potatoes in 
 the couch fires ?" 
 
 " Aye, aye, Miss, I remember," he repHed. 
 
 " And have you forgotten the times when 
 we used to make you get us clay for httle 
 candlesticks ?" 
 
 " No, no. Miss," and the old gardener 
 placed the ladder firmly against the tree, 
 shook it, placed his foot on the first round, and 
 then when he had ascertained it would hold, 
 he slowly mounted. '' Now, Miss Maude, 
 please — Miss Lucy, mind," and to hear the 
 way Robbins dashed right and left among 
 the boughs, you would not have thought him 
 the old, stooping man who had tended the 
 fires a few minutes ago. Maude and Lucy 
 perfectly shrieked with laughter, as the wal- 
 nuts came down in showers, sometimes 
 tumbling upon their heads, and sometimes in 
 their out-stretched hands. At last the old 
 man ceased his blows, and called to them from 
 the tree, if they had enough. There were 
 almost more on the ground than they could 
 have patience to pick up, so they answered, 
 "Plenty," and the old gardener slowly des- 
 cended the ladder. He smiled benevolently
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 13 
 
 on the girls, as he took off his almost napless 
 hat, and wiped his forehead with the red 
 handkerchief in it. " Don't crack the husks, 
 Miss Lucy, they'll stain your pretty fingers 
 like anything. I'll do it for 'ee, give 'em all 
 to me, and I'll take off them 'ere husks in no 
 time." He seated himself on Maude's up- 
 turned basket, pulled out a great rough clasp- 
 knife, and commenced removing the green 
 outer coverings which he threw into the fire, 
 and put the walnuts in an old game basket 
 lying on the ground near. Lucy stood by 
 and looked on in an attitude peculiarly her 
 own ; her figure erect, but her head shghtly 
 bent in a watchful way, and her hands 
 crossed ; while Maude busied herself poking 
 about the fire with a forked pea- stick. 
 
 " Did you see the hunt to-day, Robbins ?" 
 she asked, as she pushed a bundle of potatoe- 
 stalks with her foot towards the fire. 
 
 "Aye, Miss, I see'd it from up in the 
 shrubberies." 
 
 " Was therie not a number of them ?" con- 
 tinued Maude. 
 
 " Aye, Miss, there be plenty of folks most 
 ways a hunting."
 
 14 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Papa was first," observed Maude, in a 
 tone of pride. 
 
 " I never see'd nor heer'd the time 
 when master warn't first. Miss," he re- 
 phed. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Robbins," she exclaimed sud- 
 denly, nearly putting out the fire in the 
 energy vrith which she supplied it, " can you 
 tell us who that gentleman on the fiery horse 
 was, we want so much to know, the one next 
 to papa, I mean." 
 
 "Aye, Miss, him without a hunting coat." 
 
 " Yes, who was he, Robbins ?" 
 
 " Him was Mister Erresford," replied the 
 old man quietly. 
 
 Gentle Lucy did not triumph at her quick- 
 ness in guessing, but Maude exclaimed in a 
 tone of disappointment, "Then you were right, 
 Lucy." 
 
 " Him's a kind spoken gentleman," ob- 
 served the old man. 
 
 "How do you know, Robbins?" asked 
 Maude, who had left the fire in peace at the 
 important news. 
 
 " 'Cans, Miss, he were at my httle place 
 last night."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 15 
 
 " At your cottage ! what did he do there, 
 Robbms ?" 
 
 " He com'd to see me and my old 'oman, 
 Miss." 
 
 Maude had it on her hps to say, what 
 business had he with papa's tenantry ? but 
 she refrained, thinking it might hurt Robbins' 
 feehngs. 
 
 " You ban't heard p'raps of my Lady's 
 HaU, in Essex ?" 
 
 " No, Robbins, what about it ?" said Maude. 
 
 " Why it's burnt t' ashes Miss, and the 
 family's commg to Castle St. Agnes." 
 
 " Not really ?" asked Maude, incredulously. 
 
 " I had it from Mister Erresford his-self, 
 said the old man rising, as he put the last nut 
 into the basket. 
 
 " Thank you, Robbins," said Lucy, who had 
 been watching him earnestly. 
 
 " No, Miss, I havn't done yet, this here is 
 too heavy for you young ladies," and putting 
 Maude's bundle in with the walnuts, he took 
 up the basket, and walked towards the house. 
 They all three went in at the back-door, and 
 the old man put down the basket in the 
 passage, and followed by the girls' thanks, to
 
 16 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 which he repKed, " Quite welcome young 
 ladies," the old gardener went back to his fires 
 with a smile over his honest face pleased to 
 have been of use to the young sisters he had 
 known from their infancy. Maude took up 
 the basket, it was heavy, but she had a strong 
 arm, and she carried it easily into the hall, 
 there she left it, and they both went into the 
 drawing-room to arrange it for the evening. 
 The old hound was awake, raid giving a feeble 
 trembling sort of bark he followed them in, 
 and laid down under a sofa ; Ralph, the stable 
 boy had fetched away the puppies. It was 
 amusing to see how systematically the girls 
 went to work, dusting the drawing-room, 
 removing the faded chmtz covers from the 
 furniture, putting the tables in convenient 
 places, and drawing the sofas and easy chairs 
 towards the fire, to which Maude put a match, 
 and kneehng down blew the wood into a blaze, 
 then pulling down the blinds for it was nearly 
 dusk, and taking away their work-boxes, they 
 went up the wide staircase. The first door 
 on the broad landing Maude opened, it led into 
 a large airy room, there had been a brilliant sun- 
 set, which had left the sky tinged with red and
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 17 
 
 gold, and tlie windows opening to the west, 
 the room was light, besides there was a bright 
 fire burning. Maude set down the great 
 basket which she had brought up with her, 
 and stirred the fire into a blaze. 
 
 " How comfortable it looks, Lucy," said 
 Maude, and she was right, for there was an air 
 of snugness about the room. At the farther 
 end was an old cabinet, the furniture was 
 green damask, and the three old-fashioned 
 windows had curtains to correspond ; near the 
 fire stood a sofa, and a very quaint looking 
 easy chair, a large round table covered with 
 books and work with a vase of flowers in the 
 centre — it was a very handsome vase of 
 Bohemian glass and frosted silver, and rather 
 out of keeping with the rest of the room. 
 The books were of a miscellaneous character, 
 a volume of Shakespeare, Racine, Phedre, the 
 Fairchild Family, Robinson Crusoe, Pil- 
 grim's Progress, and Goldsmith's History of 
 England were piled one on the other. Maude 
 pushed them aside and tumbled out the 
 walnuts: "You have forgotten the plates," 
 said Lucy ; off" ran the unwearied Maude, 
 invading the butler's pantry she retmiied with
 
 18 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 some fruit dishes and commenced shelling the 
 filberts into them.- The two sisters looked 
 very happy sitting on the floor by the fire, the 
 glow of the setting sun shining on them 
 through the window. 
 
 " Papa is late this evening," said Lucy. 
 
 " No, dear, he is not," and Maude pulled out 
 a large, old-fashioned watch ; " it is only six." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, the stable clock is just striking. 
 Papa will not be long now." 
 
 "Lucy," Maude exclaimed, "only fancy 
 that being Mr. Erresford 1" 
 
 " Yes, and how handsome he looked !" 
 
 " Well, rather afl'ected," replied Maude, " I 
 wonder if he dines here to-night; papa told 
 Morris he should bring home six gentlemen." 
 
 " Sir Joseph Pairfield and his son, Captain 
 Prescott, Mr. Mildmay, and Mr. Harper, then 
 the sixth must be Mr. Erresford, for the rest 
 were farmers," said Lucy. 
 
 "How quick you are," replied Maude, 
 "yes, he must be coming, how glad I am 
 we shall not see him !" 
 
 " Papa says when we are older we must 
 come down to his dinners," said Lucy, in 
 rather a triste tone.
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 19 
 
 " I shall like it/' said Maude, " only heading 
 the table will be rather awful at first." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall be so frightened," added the 
 timid Lucy, already shrinking in anticipation 
 of what was to come. 
 
 " Nonsense, dear, you will soon get over 
 your fear of strangers — I suppose," Maude 
 continued, changing her tone, " we shall see 
 enouofh of strans-ers when Ladv de Walden 
 and train arrive, all the peace of our dear little 
 village ^\^S\. be gone then !" 
 
 " Oh ! there is papa," Lucy exclaimed joy- 
 ously, as horses' feet struck against the gravel 
 path ; the girls started up and went to the 
 window, and ensconcing themselves behind 
 the curtains, w^atched the party as they rode 
 up ; they counted seven horsemen, and the 
 last, they were convinced, was Mr. Erres- 
 ford. 
 
 Loud laughs rang in the hall, heavy steps 
 sounded on the floors, doors opened and then 
 hastily closed, horses wxre led away to the 
 stables, and then a well known tread mounted 
 the stairs, and in another minute Squire 
 Neville w^as in his children's room. The joy 
 and alacrity Avith which they sprang forward
 
 20 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 to receive liis embrace, showed how much they 
 loved hhn. 
 
 "Was it good sport, papa, dear?" asked 
 Maude, as she raised her beautiful face to his, 
 but a look of dissatisfaction was on his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Your father has been beaten at last, 
 Maude," and his voice wanted its usual hearti- 
 ness of tone. 
 
 " Beaten, papa !" Maude exclaimed, while 
 her lip curled and the colour mounted to her 
 high, fair forehead. 
 
 " Yes, beaten," he replied, " I should not 
 care if it had been by one of my old compa- 
 nions, but a young jackanapes of a fellow from 
 London !" 
 
 "Not Mr. Erresford?" exclaimed Maude, 
 " how I do hate him !" 
 
 "Tut, tut," said the Squire, quickly 
 recovering his good humour, " one can't ex- 
 pect to be foremost in every run — there, Lucy, 
 m:y jewel, don't screw that little mouth so 
 solemnly. I'll ride a swifter horse at the first 
 fox-hunt, and bring my Lucy the brush after 
 all, or my name is not Phil Neville 1" 
 
 Lucy sidled up close to her father, and
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 21 
 
 laid her little hand gently in his great broad 
 palm, he took it up and kissed the tips of her 
 slender fingers, while he twined his right arm 
 round her waist, and drew her nearer to him, 
 so that her head rested against his scarlet 
 hunting coat. "And what has my darling 
 been doing vnih herself all day ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! we have been very happy,'' 
 she repHed. 
 
 *' That's right, my child, so long as you are 
 happy, it's all right !" he gently unloosed his 
 hold of her waist, and gave her a warm fond 
 embrace. *' Now, Maude, my beauty, kiss me, 
 I must go." Maude flew towards him, for 
 one minute he had an arm round each, then 
 he wished them good-night, and was gone. 
 
 Maude stood for an instant, and watched the 
 door through which he had passed ; but 
 Lucy sat doAATi again on the floor and went 
 on shelling the filberts by the fire-light in 
 silence, till presently she turned round and 
 called, " Maude, dear !" Her sister started 
 from her reverie, and was instantly by her 
 side. 
 
 " Morris will not be verv" well pleased, if we 
 are not quicker with his dessert," said Lucy.
 
 22 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " We began too late," Maude replied in an 
 absent tone, " Lu, dear, you will hurt your 
 fingers." 
 
 " Oh, no, I shall not ; just look at our 
 pile." 
 
 " Have we not almost enough ?" said 
 Maude, " but what could have made Papa 
 invite Mr. Erresford ?" 
 
 " Oh, Maude, it would not be etiquette to 
 leave out a companion in the hunting field, 
 particularly a stranger, besides as he was 
 foremost, it would seem like jealousy." 
 
 " How you do think of everything," said 
 Maude, laughing; "but I am thoroughly 
 vexed, it was so impudent of Mr. Erresford to 
 outdo Papa." 
 
 " I imagine he could not help it with 
 that horse," observed Lucy, " it seemed to 
 fly, not run." 
 
 " What excuses you make for him," said 
 Maude, looking round in surprise. 
 
 "I think we ought to like him, because 
 he has been so kind to Robert," replied Lucy 
 timidly. 
 
 " Great people love to patronise," was 
 Maude's answer.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 23 
 
 Lucy went on shelling her nuts in silence, 
 for some minutes, and then she said quietly, 
 " But Mr. Erresford's has been something 
 more than patronage, you should hear Robert 
 speak of him." 
 
 *' Poor Robert is obliged to give him a httle 
 flatter}^" replied Maude. 
 
 " I do not think that is kind to Robert," 
 said Lucy looking up. 
 
 " Well, of course, I did not mean to make 
 Robert out a hj-pocrite, for I know Mr. 
 Erresford is his devoted friend, and a model 
 of every manly virtue ; but though he is 
 sincere, he may be a little bhnded — there 
 now, Lucy, we have shelled enough nuts for a 
 regiment. 1 will run down and place the 
 dishes on the hall table." As she was 
 descending the stairs, she heard a burst of 
 voices proceeding from the dining-room, she 
 paused a moment to try and distinguish that 
 of the stranger. 
 
 " A better fellow than old Eerrers never 
 lived," was Sir Joseph Eairfield's remark, " a 
 toast to his memory." 
 
 " And one to his successor," rejoined the 
 clear, manly voice of Erresford.
 
 24 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " I am afraid his successor is rather a milk- 
 sop," observed Captain Prescott. 
 
 " No, no, I'll speak a word for Aylmer even 
 in opposition to you, Captain/' said the Squire. 
 
 Maude listened no longer, but putting down 
 the dishes on the slab wdth rather a crash, ran 
 up stairs to impart to her sister the good news 
 that their early friend and companion, Robert 
 Aylmer was to be vicar of Worsted St. Agnes.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 25 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 It is not thy beauty 
 
 Nor glorious grace. 
 Oh no ! it's the feeling 
 
 That dwells in thy face 
 That illumines each feature 
 
 As the sun doth the flower, 
 And makes us feel spell-bound. 
 
 To thee in thy power. 
 
 JTJLIA TILT. 
 
 A^D what was Forsted St. Agnes?— Why 
 a Httle rustic village in Somersetshire contain- 
 ing some two or three dozen thatched cottages, 
 a few farms, a tiny little church much the 
 worse for wear both inside and out, a little 
 parsonage, very low, long, and nearly hidden 
 by ivy and the trees which grew around it. 
 Such was the village, but the parish took 
 
 VOL. 1. c
 
 26 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 under its wing, the crazy old Manor House on 
 one side, and the grand princely looking castle 
 on the other, with their respective lands and 
 woods. There was not a more sequestered 
 spot, nor a more ignorant rustic population 
 to be found in any part of England. The 
 nearest railway was twenty miles off, so 
 strangers did not trouble themselves with 
 visiting Worsted, though the church looked 
 inviting to wandering tourists in search of 
 the antique : few of the inhabitants had ever 
 seen the metropohs, and the Squire, whenever he 
 returned from his occasional visits, said, he 
 was heartily glad to find himself at home 
 again. A plain, country Squire was Mr. 
 Neville, with a pleasant easy address, a hand- 
 some face and a good line of ancestors to look 
 back to, but without one spark of the fine 
 gentleman about him; he was thoroughly 
 old fashioned, hated change with an honest, 
 cordial hatred — perhaps that was the reason 
 that the Manor House looked so neglected and 
 ruinous ? — but no, it was not, for though he in- 
 herited a tolerable property, the Squire usually 
 ran short of money, thorough-bred hunters and 
 card parties left nothing to spare from his in-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 27 
 
 come for alterations, or even for necessary re- 
 pairs. There were three requisites in his house, 
 the Squire always must have — good wine, a 
 good cuisine and an experienced butler, as to 
 the rest, so long as his children were happy, he 
 professed not to care. And the children were 
 perfectly happy if he was, though Maude could 
 have spent, without extravagance, in one day 
 the whole week's allowance her father gave 
 her for the household, and it needed all the 
 careful Lucy's repairing and mending to keep 
 the requirements of their wardrobe within the 
 scanty sum she received half-yearly ; but an 
 old dress, or a little extra dusting, for they 
 only kept one housemaid, an awkward village 
 girl, did not distress the light-hearted sisters, 
 for Maude and Lucy were early accustomed 
 to a life of independence. Mrs. Neville died 
 when Lucy was still an infant, and their child- 
 hood was passed under the care of an old 
 nurse, a dependant of the family ; as they grew 
 older, Mr. Neville's friends recommended him 
 to send them to school, but he was too much 
 attached to his children to part from them, 
 and after some hesitation he, at last, engaged a 
 governess from Arminster, the nearest large 
 
 c 2
 
 28 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 town, who remained with them until Maude 
 completed her sixteenth year, then the Squire 
 considered their education finished: besides 
 losses on the turf caused him to lessen his 
 expenses. Maude, who always disliked the 
 restraint imposed on her by study, was only 
 too glad to become her own mistress, and as 
 to quiet Lucy, she could read and practise 
 quite as well alone, so, on the whole, they were 
 both satisfied in parting with their governess, 
 and the Squire was not only satisfied, but 
 pleased, for he had his girls all to himself, and 
 as he said, " it saved his pocket." 
 
 Maude and Lucy were truly children of the 
 country, God's earth in all its perfections 
 afforded them a never ending source of amuse- 
 ment and gratification. There was not a rural 
 spot in the whole neighbourhood unknown to, 
 or unexplored by the sisters, their nimble feet 
 had pressed each blade of grass, and crossed 
 each rippling stream, jumping with delight 
 from stone to stone, and dipping their feet 
 in the flowing water, and often in earher 
 days in the overhanging boughs of some forest 
 oak, might be seen the handsome joyous face 
 of Maude peeping out from among the leaves,
 
 LUCr AYLMER. 29 
 
 inviting the more timid Lucy to ascend, and 
 share the dehghts of her shady bower. But 
 now they had given up chmbing and their 
 wilder amusements, for Maude was seventeen 
 and Lucy a year younger — pretty, fair Lucy ! 
 with her soft, pensive blue eyes and light, 
 almost flaxen hair, braided dov^ia a face so 
 calm and gentle in its expression as instantly 
 to bring to mind the third beatitude — ^how her 
 father loved her ! She was the living image of 
 his dead wife, the Lucy whom he had adored. 
 
 Things were much more prosperous in her 
 days, the house and grounds were a pattern of 
 neatness and comfort under Mrs. Neville's 
 superintendence, and there was plenty to keep 
 them up, for though the Squire had always 
 been a sportsman, yet it was only since his 
 wife's death, that he had taken to betting and 
 horse-racing. 
 
 He venerated his wife's memory, which 
 veneration he showed by resisting all efforts 
 from the neighbouring Squirearchy to obtain 
 the handsome widower for their daughters 
 and sisters — no, the little time he spent at 
 home, was devoted to his children ; they were 
 both very dear to him, but Lucy was his
 
 30 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 favourite, and strange to say, Maude was not 
 jealous — on the contrary, she quite agreed 
 with her father in idoHzing and trying to spoil 
 retiring, shy little Lucy. Maude was an entire 
 contrast to Lucy, wild, impetuous, in all the 
 pride of conscious beauty, hers was a face pos- 
 sessing features classical in their outline, a 
 complexion that might rival the summer rose, 
 and a pair of the most enchanting dark eyes 
 that ever belonged to maiden of seven- 
 teen ! 
 
 Such were the two girls who entered the 
 little church of Forsted the Sunday after the 
 hunt, and went down the damp stone aisle 
 among the old white-painted pews, to one a 
 little larger than the rest, in a recess to the 
 right of the chancel, which held the font and 
 the musicians, consisting of two old men who 
 performed on the fiddle and bassoon. 
 
 There was one little gallery over the arched 
 door-way, with worn crimson fittings and the 
 De Walden arms on the panelling, this was 
 the Castle pew, deserted by its noble owners, 
 for many, many years ; but this Sunday, as 
 Maude looked round the church, her eyes 
 lighted on the handsome stranger of the hunt,
 
 LUCY AYLMEE-. 31 
 
 Mr. Erresford. Lucy was occupied in finding 
 out the places in their prayer-books, an office 
 she always performed, when Maude gave the 
 corner of her cloak a pull, exclaiming in a 
 loud whisper, as her sister looked up : 
 
 "There he is, Lucy." 
 
 "Who, dear?" 
 
 " Mr. Erresford, to be sure !" 
 
 " Hush, Maude, don't speak so loud, every 
 one will hear you !" 
 
 Mr. Erresford did not hear her, but he hap- 
 pened to look down into the Squire's pew at 
 that moment ; Lucy's eyes had returned to 
 her prayer-book, but Maude's were directed to- 
 wards the gallery — they were cast down, 
 however, in some confusion and vexation at 
 having flattered Mr. Erresford by even ap- 
 pearing to look at him, and during the service, 
 which was performed by a curate from a 
 neighbouring village, Maude, who was rather 
 famed for restlessness, was uncommonly at- 
 tentive and quiet. The Squire, who had tired 
 himself out by his last night's revelry, re- 
 mained at home, so the girls were alone ; and 
 Maude, who dreaded meeting Mr. Erresford, 
 made Lucy hurry out of church as soon as
 
 32 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 possible, when the rustic little congregation 
 began to disperse; it seemed, however, they 
 were not to escape from Mr. Erresford, for 
 just outside the porch, an old woman stopped 
 them with the story of her troubles, after they 
 had patiently listened to her, and were hasten- 
 ing out of the church-yard, a few paces on, they 
 saw Mr. Erresford talking with a little knot of 
 villagers, he was directly in the path they had 
 to pass, so there was no avoiding him. 
 
 The villagers all raised their hats to "our 
 young ladies," as the girls were familiarly 
 called, Maude acknowledged Mr. Erresford's 
 polite bow by a stiff inclination of the head, 
 Lucy gave a more courteous recognition, and 
 so they passed on. 
 
 " I really thought he was going to speak to 
 us," said Maude, when they were out of 
 hearing. 
 
 "Oh, no!" replied Lucy, "Mr. Erresford 
 could not have introduced himself to us with- 
 out papa, I was not at all afraid." 
 
 " Well, but make haste, Lucy, for he may 
 overtake us after all." 
 
 Complying Lucy hurried along by her 
 sister's side.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 33 
 
 " Maude," she said, after they had walked 
 on some moments in silence. " How strange 
 it must feel to Mr. Erresford to be at his 
 home again !" 
 
 " How strange, Lucy ? this neighbourhood 
 has never been his home." 
 
 '' Oh, yes, it has, you know the old Earl 
 was very fond of the Castle ; until his death 
 they came here occasionally." 
 
 " I remember hearing papa say somethhig 
 about it ; but they never resided here in our 
 time?" 
 
 " No, Lady de Walden disliked the place, 
 she found it dull, and was only too glad to 
 leave it altogether when the Earl died." 
 
 "So much for her taste !" replied Maude 
 independently, "I am sure they cannot be 
 nice people, if they do not like Forsted, dear, 
 darhng home." 
 
 Lucy smiled. "It is indeed a dear little 
 place, so snug and comfortable, with no one 
 to interfere with us." 
 
 " You will not be able to say that long," 
 rejoined Maude, "depend upon it, the De 
 Walden people are fond of dictating, I 
 should not wonder directly they know us, if 
 
 c 3
 
 34 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 they were to find fault with our education, or 
 way of Uving." 
 
 "No, dear Maude, they cannot do that,*' 
 repUed Lucy, "besides I dare say we shall 
 not see much of them, you and I are so much 
 younger than the Lady Erresfords, and so 
 different, that it is not likely we shall suit 
 them, though Robert told me the younger one, 
 Lady Mora, I think that is her name, is very 
 amiable." 
 
 " I think if Robert hkes her so much, he 
 had better marry her," said Maude. 
 
 Lucy coloured up to her forehead, as she 
 said timidly. " Oh ! there is so much dif- 
 ference in rank." 
 
 "As if the Aylmers had not been just as 
 good in their time, as the Erresfords ! — 
 indeed when I was looking over an old book 
 of papa's the other day, I found the name 
 of Aylmer earlier in the history of the 
 county than that of Erresford ; but Neville is 
 older than either," she added with a self- 
 complacent look. 
 
 " Oh ! Maude dear, I am sure we are very 
 happy without thinking of pedigrees, they 
 will not make us any better or happier, and
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 35 
 
 if we are proud about such things, we are 
 sure to have a fall, Mr. Lane said something 
 very like it in the sermon to-day." 
 
 "I am sure I did not hear it," rephed 
 Maude, jumping over a stile which connected 
 their fields with the road, " not that it makes 
 us happier as you say, only I hke to know 
 we are as good as the Erresfords." 
 
 Lucy sprang lightly over the stile after her 
 sister, and as they walked across the meadow, 
 she said, " I cannot think why we should 
 dislike Lady de Walden returning to the 
 Castle, I suppose it is because we have been 
 accMstomed so long to have the village to 
 ourselves, and are afraid of new people making 
 alterations ; but don't let us find fault with 
 them any more." 
 
 " What a good little thing you are, Lucy 1" 
 exclaimed Maude, looking admiringly at her 
 sister's sweet face. 
 
 Lucy laughed. " No, but Maude, I mean 
 it, we shall take quite a prejudice if we talk so 
 much about them." 
 
 " Well then, darling, if you don't wish it, 
 we will never mention the name of Erresford 
 except with adjectives of goodness before it."
 
 36 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " How funny !" said Lucy, " I never saw 
 such a droll girl as you Maude." 
 
 " My dear, you have seen so few girls to 
 compare me with. I am sure ladies are scarce 
 about here, at least, young ladies." 
 
 " Yes, how few girls we have known ! but 
 I am glad of it, for it has only made us love 
 each other more." 
 
 " As if any one could help loving you !" 
 exclaimed Maude, in an indignant tone ; as she 
 stopped to kiss her sister's fair cheek." 
 
 "And I am sure, Maude, you deserve to be 
 loved as well," said Lucy, smiling at the 
 vehemence of her sister's tone. ^ 
 
 "Oh, Lucy, you are quite different from 
 me ! I am so much more independent, 
 people must love and pet you, you are made 
 for it." 
 
 " That remains to be proved," rephed 
 Lucy archly, " for the present, Maude," she 
 continued, " to know you and papa love me, 
 is everything." 
 
 "But we managed to spare some love for 
 Mildred, didn't we, Lucy?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! but then Mildred was like one 
 of ourselves, I wonder if we shall ever see her
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 37 
 
 again ? I suppose not, at least, not till we 
 have grown old." 
 
 " I am sure you will never grow old, 
 Lucy darling, with that young little face of 
 yours/' 
 
 Lucy laughed and so did her sister, though 
 Maude recalled those Avords some years after, 
 and thought them prophetic. 
 
 Squire Neville who was wandering about 
 the grounds, met the girls as they returned 
 from church. 
 
 " Holloa, my pretty ones !" he called out, 
 as he saw them at the end of the shrubberies ; 
 both ran forward to meet him. "Well, 
 Maude, have you been a good girl at church ; 
 eh, Lucy, my little parson ?" 
 
 Lucy only coloured and laughed in reply, 
 and took her father's hand in hers. 
 
 " Well children," continued the Squire. 
 '' I have not seen you since last night, the 
 dinner went off very well, and I begin to Hke 
 Erresford, in spite of his backing me out at 
 the hunt, he is a nice fellow." 
 
 " Is he papa ?" Maude said in an absent 
 tone. 
 
 " Lots of changes are coming about," the
 
 38 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Squire went on, " who do you think we are to 
 have for our parson?" 
 
 " Oh ! I heard papa, when I was bringing 
 down the dessert last night," said the truthful 
 Maude. 
 
 "Well, are you not glad? I thought of 
 you both directly Erresford told me." 
 
 " Yes, it will be nice to have Robert for a 
 neighbour," both the girls answered at once. 
 
 ''And you are going to have some more 
 neighbours, too." 
 
 " At the Castle," rephed Lucy, " but they 
 are strangers." 
 
 " You may soon know them, I should not 
 wonder if Erresford calls this afternoon, he 
 wants to see you both." 
 
 " We shall be out for our afternoon's walk," 
 observed Lucy, " and then we have our old 
 women to visit." 
 
 " Oh leave the old women for once," replied 
 the Squire. 
 
 "They would think us so unkind," pleaded 
 Lucy. 
 
 "My pretty Lucy never did an unkind 
 thing, I am sure, and no one shall say that her 
 father made her do so, I don't want you to
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 39 
 
 forsake your old women, Lu, only be a little 
 quicker over them than usual." 
 
 Lucy pressed her father's hand gratefully, 
 as she replied, " Yes, papa." 
 
 " Now children, off with your bonnets and 
 come down quick to dinner," said the Squire, 
 as they entered the dining-room through the 
 low mndows. 
 
 The girls were not long in obeying him, 
 and then Maude took the head of the table, 
 opposite her father, and fair Lucy sat between 
 them. I do not think the Squire and Maude 
 would have cared in the least for their dinner, 
 without Lucy to coax and find dainty morsels 
 for : first Maude looked at her lovingly, and 
 then the Squire, and both conversed and drew 
 out her quiet sayings, as if she had been some 
 honoured guest. Everything was referred to 
 Lucy, and everything Lucy even hinted 
 seemed law. Squire Neville and Maude did all 
 they could to spoil Lucy, but did not succeed ; 
 there are some natures so unselfish, so gentle 
 and yielding, that do what you will, you 
 cannot harm them, and Lucv was one of these 
 — her faults, if such they can be called, were 
 over gentleness and timidity, but beyond
 
 40 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 these, Lucy was a blameless creature — her 
 countenance expressed this ; so unruffled, 
 so utterly free from passion or cares, that it 
 was repose to rest the eyes on that youthful 
 face — and Maude's was all energy ; all self-will, 
 her beautiful eyes restless and roving; her 
 upper lip generally slightly raised, as if ready 
 to speak, for Maude was seldom silent. And 
 Squire Neville's face was so handsome and 
 wore such a kindly expression of good- 
 humour, that people wondered he had re- 
 mained a widower. 
 
 Such was the group, who, after dinner, sat 
 round a little table in the sunny old drawing- 
 room, finishing the nuts left from yesterday's 
 dessert. 
 
 It was a complete autumn afternoon, a 
 bright clear sky with plenty of sunshine, and 
 here and there a little knot of white snowy 
 cloudlets blown along by a high wind, that 
 had risen in the night, and was busy carrying 
 off the leaves from the tree-tops, and sending 
 them flying across the paths, and against the 
 windows. Maude and Lucy were always 
 accustomed to take a walk with their father 
 on Sunday, in summer they went out after tea,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 41 
 
 and how they enjoyed those rambles on the 
 Sabbath eve, when they wandered by the 
 river side, and watched the fishes leaping and 
 rising in the clear waters, and admired the 
 kingfisher pluming his feathers in the long 
 grass, or counted the purple and gold dragon- 
 flies which buzzed past them — and when they 
 had waited for the sunset on Bushman's Hill, 
 they took the road leading to the village, and 
 often arrived home in the starlight, after lis- 
 tening to the hooting of the owl in the De 
 Walden woods, and wondering at the glow- 
 worms shining on their path. Nor were 
 their autumn and mnter walks less pleasant, 
 when they went briskly along the lanes in the 
 frosty afternoons, and talked about the coming 
 Christmas, and the poor people they meant to 
 make glad with winter presents, for though 
 the girl's purses were always small, yet they 
 contrived to find some little savings for their 
 poor pensioners. There was also another 
 pleasure to which they looked forward, and 
 which they were talking over that Sunday 
 during dessert. 
 
 Mr. Neville had a younger brother, Archer, 
 who had studied for the bar, and was now
 
 42 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 high up m his profession, and hved in style 
 and luxury in the west end of London, the 
 Squire had also two sisters, one had married 
 very young and died in Ireland, the other, 
 Augusta Neville, a dashing, handsome woman, 
 still young enough to be admired, lived with 
 her brother Archer, and made his home both 
 gay and attractive. These two annually for- 
 sook their elegance and gaiety, and passed the 
 Christmas season at the old Manor House in 
 Somersetshire. 
 
 It was quite an event, this yearly visit, to 
 Maude and Lucy, and weeks before, Maude 
 began her preparations. Augusta Neville had 
 very fascinating manners, and knew how to 
 make herself as agreeable in quiet little Forsted, 
 as in her favourite London coteries, besides 
 she was really fond of her brother Philip and 
 his daughters, of whom she could not help 
 being proud, and certainly their lovely fresh- 
 ness and inartificial manners were quite a 
 relief after the ftided belles of a London sea- 
 son, and Miss Neville looked forward to some 
 future day, when if she could win their father's 
 consent, she woidd take her young neices to 
 the metropolis and introduce them herself into
 
 LUCr AYLMEH. 43 
 
 the gay circles she thought they would so well 
 adorn. 
 
 The girls were, as yet, quite unconscious of 
 their aunt's intentions, for though in common 
 with others who had never visited the metro- 
 poUs, they ardently desired to see London and 
 all its wonders, yet they would have turned mth 
 dread from the idea of a London season. Miss 
 Neville thought there was yet much to be done, 
 their education required more finish, and their 
 dress to be modernized, and the only new 
 books or music they ever had, and the only 
 smart dresses they wore, w^ere the Christmas 
 gifts of Aunt Augusta. It was not then to be 
 wondered at, that Miss Neville formed the con- 
 versation of a half-hour, before the Squire 
 reminded the girls of their walk. Their 
 toilette was not long in making, and soon 
 they were going along the hilly road leading 
 towards Arminster. Very simply attired the 
 girls Avere, in their dark merino dresses, and 
 cloaks, and plain-looking straw bonnets, their 
 w4iole costume scarcely costing as much as 
 many London ladies give for their bonnets 
 alone — and yet, Maude Neville and her sister 
 wore a far greater stamp of elegance, and indeed
 
 44 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 noblesse than half those who roll along Hyde 
 Park in their ermines and velvet. Lucy took 
 her father's arm, it was characteristic of her 
 nature, which was leaning and clinging; 
 Maude walked by his side, independence was 
 marked on her countenance, she needed no 
 support. They went along a beautiful road, 
 on one side bordered by hills, w^hile, on the 
 other, miles of valley stretched far away till 
 they blended with the horizon. Here and 
 there the high road was crossed by a pretty, 
 rural lane, very steep, and so stony that the won- 
 der was, how a cart or chaise could ever ascend 
 it ; then, after a while, the road skirted the fine, 
 majestic-looking woods of Castle St. Agnes, 
 dark and frowning in their never changing 
 tint of sombre green, for the greater part of the 
 trees were pines. 
 
 " I should think the Black Forest must 
 look something like this, papa,'' said Lucy. 
 
 " I don't know, my dear, I have never been 
 out of England; you must ask Aunt Augusta 
 next time she comes." 
 
 "Should not you like to travel, papa?" 
 asked Maude, " I know I should." 
 
 " I dare say you may some of these days,
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 45 
 
 my dear, but I am too contented at home 
 ever to rove abroad." 
 
 " Oh, papa, you cannot possibly love home 
 more than I do, but still I sometimes feel 
 just a passing wish to peep at the homes of 
 other people." 
 
 " Ten to one you would be disappointed, my 
 beauty !" said her father. 
 
 " Well, papa, I shnll not die of a broken 
 heart, if I do not go," replied Maude. 
 
 " What do you know about dying of a 
 broken heart ?" said the Squire laughing, ''you 
 learnt that out of Aunt Augusta's novels, I 
 suppose, eh, Lucy ! Didn't she?" 
 
 "Aunt Augusta scarcely ever brings us 
 novels, papa ; her books are generally poetry or 
 travels," replied Lucy. 
 
 '' Oh, ho ! that's where Missey has got her 
 roaming mania," said the Squire. 
 
 " No, papa, aunt's books plead innocent, for 
 it was Robert's grand description of the places 
 he and Mr. Erresford saw on their vacation 
 trips that put into my head the longing to see 
 foreign countries — ^but, papa, when is Robert 
 to take possession of his Uving ?"
 
 46 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Not quite yet, I think, Maude. Erresford 
 talks of smartening the old church and par- 
 sonage first." 
 
 " What a shame to touch the church !" ex- 
 claimed Maude indignantly, " what bad taste 
 Mr. Erresford must have !" 
 
 "Not so fast, Missey," said the Squire, 
 smiling. " I will vouch for Erresford doing 
 nothing to spoil our little church, just a touch 
 of paint, and a little whitewash won't hurt us ; 
 and a stove to keep the floors dry will be a 
 perfect boon to your rheumaticky old ladies." 
 
 " Yes, it will be nice," replied Lucy eagerly, 
 " for we are certainly very cold in winter ; and 
 perhaps Mr. Erresford will make the windows 
 fit a little better ?" 
 
 " You shall ask him, httle Lu," said her 
 father good-humouredly. 
 
 " Oh no, papa," and Lucy looked to see if 
 he meant it, but she saw by his smile, he was 
 not in earnest, though the colour quite 
 mounted to her delicate cheeks, at even the 
 possibility of her interfering with the grand 
 Mr. Erresford. 
 
 " I am sure the church does very well,"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 47 
 
 observed Maude in an absent tone, " it was 
 good enough for Mr. Ferrers, and I am certain 
 Robert is not particular." 
 
 "You don't know yet," said her father, 
 putting his arm over her shoulder, "young 
 gentlemen, new from College, bring home very 
 different ideas from those they took with them." 
 
 '' But we have seen Robert many times 
 since he came from Oxford,'' replied Maude, 
 " and I noticed no change in him ; did you, 
 
 Lucv ?" 
 
 t/ 
 
 " No," replied Lucy, timidly, " but I dare 
 say, Maude, papa knows best." 
 
 " Good little woman, she never questions 
 papa's authority. Well, you are a couple of 
 dear girls, and very clever, no doubt, but you 
 see your father has lived some twenty years 
 longer in the world than either of you, and 
 age and wisdom usually go together." 
 
 Maude laughed. " Oh, papa, you must not 
 talk about age yet !" and she looked up at the 
 handsome face, round which not one single 
 grey hair was to be seen in the rich waves of 
 brown. 
 
 There was a stile to get over, then the 
 little party picked their way along the some-
 
 48 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 what muddy path through a turnip-field ; 
 at the end, there was a plank over a 
 brook, and then another stile which brought 
 them into some meadows leading to a 
 quaint old-fashioned farm-house. The Squire 
 was going to enquire about a horse, farmer 
 Meekin had for sale, so he opened the 
 wicket-gate, and entering the little flower- 
 garden, still bright in all its dahlias and chry- 
 santhemums, knocked at the old deep-set 
 door. No one was at home, the family had 
 gone out for the day, and they retraced their 
 steps. The wind was blowing full in their 
 faces now, and Maude and Lucy were obliged 
 to hold on their bonnets, but the Squire who 
 was not quite so careful, had the pleasure of 
 chasing his hat across the meadow, and, at 
 last, picked it up again in a cart-rut. Maude 
 and Lucy excessively amused, came running 
 after, but at the end of the field they stopped, 
 for over the stile just in front of them jumped 
 — Mr. Erresford. Maude let go her bonnet, 
 and pushed back the stray hair the wind 
 had blown over her face, radiant and glowing 
 from the exercise. 
 
 What a beautiful creature ! thought Erres-
 
 LUCY AYLMEE. 49 
 
 fori, and lie imagined he had never before 
 seen any one so bewitching, but he turned to 
 Lucy with her dehcate face flushed by the 
 rough autumnal T\dnd, he could scarce refrain 
 from exclaimino;, " What an ano:el !" 
 
 The Squire, by this time, had replaced his 
 hat in its proper position, observed Erresford, 
 and shaking hands heartily, made a little in- 
 clination towards the girls, and said, " Erres- 
 ford, these are my daughters, this is Maude, 
 and that is Lucy." 
 
 Maude and Lucy did not intend to do any 
 thing more than bow, but Mi\ Erresford was 
 not disposed for so formal a greeting, for he 
 came forward and shook hands mth each in a 
 very friendly manner, and then he asked the 
 Squire in what direction he was going. Mr. 
 Neville replied, it did not signify to him in the 
 least, he believed he was going home ; so 
 Erresford turned and went with them, Lucy 
 claimed her father's arm again, and Maude 
 walked by her side, while the Squire appro- 
 priated Erresford's arm, that is to say, when 
 thev reached the hio;h road, for in the fields 
 there was only a narrow path, and they were 
 obhged to walk one by one. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LUCY AYLMEK. 
 
 " I fear we took you very much by surprise 
 yesterday ?" said Erresford, addressing the 
 sisters. 
 
 " Oh no ! not at all," replied Maude, coldly, 
 " we are accustomed to it." 
 
 " Yes, my girls know pretty well as much 
 about country sports as you or I," observed 
 the Squire. 
 
 "But I suppose the Miss Nevilles have 
 never yet been to a hunt ?" said Erresford. 
 
 "Not yet," replied the Squu'e, "you see, 
 my Lucy is a little bit timid when she finds 
 herself mounted, and Maude does not like to 
 leave her sister ; but Maude, you must make 
 a beginning soon, when we have got Aunt 
 Augusta to leave Lu with, you shall see a 
 Imnt." 
 
 " But surely, Miss Neville would not like 
 to find herself among a bevy of sportsmen ?" 
 said Erresford, quickly. 
 
 " Oh ! she will have her father, and you 
 must remember, Erresford, that your London 
 ladies and our country lasses are quite another 
 thing." 
 
 " Well, I must join the party when Miss 
 Neville follows the hounds," said Erresford,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 51 
 
 smiling, " I wish I could persuade my sisters 
 to keep you in countenance," he added, turn- 
 ing to Maude. 
 
 "Ladies who are unaccustomed to hunt 
 would be frightened," rephed Maude. 
 
 " Then at that rate, you ought to be, 
 Missey," said her father, slyly. 
 
 Lucy, who had not spoken before, here 
 ventured her timid voice in behalf of her sister, 
 though for herself she would have said nothing. 
 " Oh, papa, Maude is never afraid !" 
 
 " No more she is," replied the Squire, " I 
 wish I could say the same of another little 
 personage." 
 
 Lucy blushed crimson, Mr. Erresford 
 thought the colour that came and went par- 
 ticularly becoming, but he pitied her embar- 
 rassment, and said : " I hope my sisters and 
 your daughters will become great friends, Mr. 
 NeviUe." 
 
 " Oh ! my girls will be glad enough to be 
 neighbourly, when they get over the first shy- 
 ness," replied the Squire. 
 
 Poor Maude was quite vexed her father 
 should lead Mr. Erresford to suppose they 
 were shy, it was so stupid — so childish ; and 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF
 
 52 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 to prevent Mr. Erresford from fancying them 
 so, she said : 
 
 " My sister and I will be very glad if the 
 Lady Erresfords will call and see us some- 
 times." 
 
 " It must become something more than a 
 calling acquaintance, I hope you will be inti- 
 mate with my sisters, at all events with Elora, 
 she is more your age than Anne." 
 
 " Lady Anne is what we may call strong- 
 minded, eh Erresford ?" said the Squire, who 
 had soon become familiar with his new friend. 
 
 Mr. Erresford laughed. " Many people 
 think her so," he rephed, "but she is really 
 very good-hearted, though her temperament is 
 cold." 
 
 " That's right, I like to hear a man speak 
 well of his sisters," said the Squire, " you shall 
 see mine at Christmas. I suppose your ladies 
 are all in London now ?" he added. 
 
 " No, at Brighton ; they w^ere there when 
 the fire took place." 
 
 " Was any one hurt ?" asked Maude, think- 
 ing it proper to take part in the conversation. 
 
 " No one was injured," Erresford replied, 
 '' the fire broke out in the dayhght."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 53 
 
 " I suppose the whole place is burnt clown ?" 
 said the Squire. 
 
 " No, only the left wing of the house and 
 the servants' offices, the fire originated in the 
 housekeeper's room, through a child who was 
 playing with a lighted stick, I believe ; but 
 every one appears very confused in their 
 reports — it is decided, however, that Lady de 
 Walden and my sisters take up their residence 
 here, till all is repaired, and by that time, 
 perhaps, they will learn to like the neighbour- 
 hood." 
 
 " I think that will not be difficult," said 
 Maude, as she passed again under the shade of 
 the Woods. 
 
 " We must go home through the village, 
 if you please, papa," said Lucy's soft voice, 
 as the Squire was going to take a shorter path 
 towards the Manor House. 
 
 " What, going to leave Mr. Erresford and 
 me for the old ladies, eh Lu ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa," replied Lucy smiling, and 
 Mr. Erresford thought it a real treat only to 
 look at that sweet face just then, and yet 
 there was no brilliancy of expression, no 
 critical correctness of feature, no depth of
 
 54 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 colour, all was subdued and quiet, and lie 
 felt there was a repose even in being near 
 her. 
 
 " My girls have each a pet old woman 
 down in the village, Erresford," said the 
 Squire, by way of explanation, " and they 
 always steal half-an-hour from me on Sundays, 
 to give to them, though it is a denial to spare 
 my girls for even that little time ; but you 
 will come home with me Erresford, I can't 
 promise you a dinner, because we have dined 
 country fashion to-day, but Maude will give 
 you some tea, and we'll find you some supper. 
 Come, no excuses, better take up your quarters 
 with us, than spend a solitary evening in that 
 haunted looking old castle." 
 
 "Oh, I have no excuse," replied Erresford, 
 "I shall be only too glad to accept your 
 hospitality. So we are to part here, Miss 
 Lucy?" he added, as Lucy left her father's 
 arm, before a very low thatched cottage at 
 the entrance of the village. 
 
 Lucy replied in the affirmative, and after 
 an au revoir from Erresford, they parted. 
 Cecil Erresford did not notice Maude enter a 
 rose-covered cottage on the opposite side;
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 00 
 
 but he followed Lucy with his gaze and 
 watched her, like a ray of hght, cross the 
 miserable threshold of a poor hovel — he could 
 not see her sit down by the bedside of the 
 sick and aged inmate, nor hear her read from 
 the httle Testament she carried with her, 
 words of Sunday comfort, about Christ heal- 
 ing the sick on the Sabbath day, and explain 
 to her hearer the meaning of the words as 
 they presented themselves to her simple 
 imagination. If Erresford could have been 
 Avitness, he, who loved and venerated all that 
 was holy and pure, what would he ha\'e 
 thought of Lucy Neville ?" 
 
 It was growing dusk when these young 
 sisters had finished their work of love, and 
 then they joined each other and hastened 
 along the fields. Maude's protegee, the ^vife 
 of a labourer, insisted on sending, as an escort, 
 her little son, a rosy plough-boy, in his Sunday 
 smock, who walked along by their side, and an- 
 swered in his broad, Somerset dialect, the ques- 
 tions of the young ladies; at the garden gate 
 they dismissed their rustic beau, rejoicing in 
 the possession of a bright penny from Lucy's 
 pocket. The girls went straight up into their
 
 56 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 own room, and when in that favourite retreat, 
 Maude surveyed herself in the glass with a 
 slight look of discontent. 
 
 " Lucy," she said, " we can never go down 
 to Mr. Erresford in these dresses, what would 
 Aunt Augusta say?" 
 
 " Papa is always satisfied with our dress, 
 dear," replied Lucy, carefully placing their 
 bonnets in a cupboard. 
 
 " Yes, but Aunt Augusta always makes us 
 dress differently for visitors." 
 
 " But then, it is Sunday, to-day, and so it 
 cannot signify," pleaded Lucy. 
 
 " That is all very well, if Mr. Erresford 
 were not accustomed to such smart people !" 
 and Maude tumbled out of a drawer, two 
 simple white dresses not improved by repairs 
 and lengthening. 
 
 Lucy, who always submitted to her sister's 
 superior knowledge in dress, soon arrayed 
 herself in her white, and after smoothing down 
 her fair hair, and assisting Maude, the sisters 
 descended to the drawing-room. 
 
 The Squire and Cecil Erresford were sitting 
 by the fire-light over their wine, but Erresford 
 rose as they entered, and gave his large, easy
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 57 
 
 cliair to Maude ; while he cbew the sofa 
 towards the fire for Lucy, and seated himself 
 beside her with quite an air of veneration. 
 She was very quiet, he could scarcely get her 
 to talk ; she sat still with the flickering flames 
 shining partially across her face and white 
 dress, and lighting up her small hands crossed 
 meekly on her lap, and Erresford was remind- 
 ed of many saintly pictures he had seen in 
 foreign galleries. Cecil made himself very 
 agreeable, it was his nature; and at length 
 Lucy smiled, and Maude forgot to be as 
 cold as she intended. At tea, Cecil sat by 
 Maude, and helped her pass the cups and 
 take care of Lucy, thereby getting more into 
 Maude's good graces. The evening did not 
 appear long, though once the Squire fell asleep 
 in his arm-chair, and left Cecil to the un- 
 divided attention of his girls. By-and-bye, 
 Mr. Neville woke up, and asked if Cecil liked 
 music ; and when he replied in the affii^mative, 
 in spite of blushes and excuses, he made the 
 girls get out their old music book, and sing 
 some sacred pieces. The Squire thought 
 their singing perfect, it was not so, however, 
 for they were self-taught, and Maude's second 
 
 D 3
 
 58 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 was sometimes too loud for Lucy's first, but 
 Erresford thought not of time or tune ; he 
 only wished he could sing too, that he might 
 chime in with those young fresh voices in 
 singing Sabbath praises, on his first Sunday 
 eve at Forsted.
 
 LUCY AYLJIER. 69 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 To all that is most great and admirable, 
 Thou art akim. I have no words to speak 
 The thoughts I have of thee, thou noble man f 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 A GRIM old pile was Castle St. Agnes, 
 with its grey stone walls and early Norman 
 architecture, standing in stately soUtude, 
 amidst a spacious and well-wooded park 
 reclining on the edge of a gentle valley and 
 crowned by lofty Hmestone hills, on whose 
 summits rose the pines which frowned guard 
 over the Arminster Road. The whole of 
 October, preparations were going on for the 
 reception of the Countess and her daughters. 
 Waggon after waggon arrived daily from 
 Arminster station, with furniture, statuary,
 
 CO LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 antique vases, candelabra, and all that was 
 necessary to make the castle a fit residence 
 for its noble owners. 
 
 Cecil Erresford remained there all the 
 month, superintending the arrangements and 
 making himself acquainted with the tenantry ; 
 and his winning fascinating manner, soon 
 compelled them to like him — there was a 
 peculiar blending of the grave and the gay 
 in his composition, that made him agreeable 
 to all — one moment he was all life and anima- 
 tion, laughing and joking with the jolly 
 farmer, who came to pay his respects at 
 Castle St. Agnes, and in another ten minutes 
 he would be sympathising with an expression 
 almost sorrowful on his joyous face, in the 
 troubles of some poor cottager. Cecil Erres- 
 ford did not like to see suffering in any form, 
 in his early boyish days he had tried to close 
 his eyes, and altogether shut out from his view 
 the existence of ought save beauty and happi- 
 ness in God's world, but he found as he grew 
 older, that it would not do, in looking at the 
 roses, he must observe the thorns, and when 
 he became convinced of life's shadows as well 
 as its sunbeams, a thoughtfulness sprang up
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 61 
 
 and blended itself with the flood of sunshine 
 that hung over him, a thoughtfulness that 
 made him, form plans for lifting up and 
 casting away the shadows when he found 
 them. They never fell on Cecil Erresford, 
 but frequently on those around him, and to 
 these he became a friend and benefactor. He 
 was rich — besides his own family fortune, the 
 whole immense wealth of an uncle was his — 
 but he had never cared for wealth till he came 
 side by side with poverty, and then he felt its 
 power — none ever taught him to care for others 
 — none ever set him a bright example of bene- 
 volence — CeciFs generous heart was given him 
 from Heaven. How many felt the fruits of 
 that generosity, and knew not whence they 
 came, for Cecil's gifts were not done to be 
 seen of men — he had no need of praise, the 
 reward was in the happiness of his own heart. 
 Often and often while he was at college, were 
 gifts sent to those he knew to be struggling 
 with necessity and anxiety — sent carefully — 
 secretly — that the recipients might not have 
 the pain of thanks — and then the son of rank, 
 and fortune, would sit down and draw for 
 himself happy pictures of the surprise and
 
 62 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 delight of the objects of his bounty. Some 
 one, perhaps, equally young, equally talented 
 with himself, but whom the lavish hand of 
 fortune had not visited. Cecil was every one's 
 friend, he did not always employ his wealth as 
 a dispeller of shadows, rich acquaintances 
 courted his society, they said it was impossible 
 not to like so noble a fellow. 
 
 Such was Cecil Erresford — handsome, 
 clever, fascinating and brilliant, he was quite 
 conscious of all this : but that consciousness 
 brought with it neither conceit or pride — he 
 was too much a gentleman to be conceited — 
 too thoroughly superior for the weakness of 
 pride. But how was it Erresford played 
 such a prominent part in the family of the 
 Countess, and where was its representative, 
 the Earl ? Here was the greatest shadow on 
 Erresford's life, his elder brother, always 
 weak in mind and body, had of late years 
 become quite imbecile, and usually resided 
 in Italy, or the south of Erance, the mild 
 climate suiting his delicate health ; on Erres- 
 ford, therefore, devolved the control of the 
 property and estates of the Earl. 
 
 It was one of the foggiest days of that
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 63 
 
 foggy month, November, on which Erresford 
 went to London to bring the Comitess and 
 his sisters down to Castle St. Agnes, they had 
 come up from Brighton early in the week to 
 their mansion, in Park Lane, and were ready 
 for Cecil — he remained with them three days in 
 town, and during that time there was fog with- 
 out intermission — nor did it disperse on the 
 tenth, when the express by which the noble 
 party journeyed, was so oppressed by this same 
 fog, that it did not reach Arminster till an hour 
 after the stated time. A travelling carriage 
 was waiting at the station, into this Erresford 
 put his mother and sisters, and then the 
 postillions with their impatient horses, dashed 
 off into the regions of fog. 
 
 " I never remember such a tedious journey 
 in my hfe," hsped the languid voice of Lady 
 Elora. 
 
 " Naturally it must be tedious in this fog," 
 rephed Lady Anne, diyly, " Cecil how many 
 miles is it to Eorsted?" 
 
 "Twenty, ma soeur," Erresford answered, 
 " I only wish the sun shone that you might 
 admire the beauties of your native county."
 
 64 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Not mine," said Mora, pettislily, " Park 
 Lane is my native place." 
 
 " You are a cockney, then !" replied her 
 brother laughing ; " but you and I belong to 
 Somerset, do we not, Anne ?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe so, but what does it signify 
 where our birth-place is ?" 
 
 " Oh, most unromantic Anne 1" exclaimed 
 Erresford playfully, " there is much in a birth- 
 place — at least, the pubUc think so, I have no 
 doubt." 
 
 " The pubHc ! what can you possibly mean, 
 Cecil ?" asked Lady Anne, " what have they 
 to do with our native place ?" 
 
 "Probably ours will be a matter of no 
 import to any one, but as the birth-plcaes of 
 the great become spots of public resort, I dare 
 say the visitors who frequent such locahties, 
 would prefer they should be pleasantly 
 situated, rather than in the metropolis," and 
 Erresford gave a sly glance at his sisters. 
 
 " I thought you were going to put forth 
 some absurd reasoning," said Lady Anne, 
 trying to see something beyond the damp 
 window.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 65 
 
 Erresford who sat opposite her, looked in 
 the same direction : " Now here Anne 1" he 
 exclaimed, "is one of the most beautiful 
 panoramas perhaps in England, forty or fifty 
 miles of valley bounded by hill." 
 
 " AVhat is the use of teUing us that, Cecil?" 
 said Lady Flora, who w^as looking over her 
 brother's shoulder, "I see nothing but fog — 
 fog — quite a sea of it, worse here than else- 
 w^here, because it is denser down in your 
 vaUey." 
 
 "Oh, but, Elora!" replied Erresford, gaily, 
 " there is the view there in spite of the fog, 
 and that will not last for ever." 
 
 "I am sure we have had it for days and 
 days," sighed Elora in a triste tone. 
 
 "It is the forerunner of frosts," Erresford 
 replied, " hard, clear, frosty days, such as you 
 delight in, Elora, you will enjoy them doubly 
 here, I can take you rides, such as you never 
 saw before." 
 
 The Countess, who was ensconced in sables 
 and velvet, in the comer of the carriage, to all 
 appearance asleep, here lifted up her head : 
 " Still the same Erresford," she said, " you 
 always were an enigma to me as a child."
 
 66 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " How SO, mother ?" he exclaimed, turning 
 towards her. 
 
 "I never could understand how you 
 managed to see every thing cm couleur de rose, 
 and now you even find beauties in a black 
 fog !" 
 
 " Not exactly in it, but behind it, there is 
 no lack of beauties here, I do not think there 
 is anything prettier than a summer mist 
 among these hills ; I remember five summers 
 ago, I had run down with Aylmer for a day 
 or two's shooting, and we wanted to go over 
 to Arminster about some pointers ; I recollect 
 as well as possible it was the fourth of Sep- 
 tember, such weather we had for more than a 
 week, it was like the dog-days ; but that 
 morning when we started at eight o'clock, 
 there was nothing to be seen but a thick mist, 
 it hung about us like rain, you could 
 positively see it falling in drops ; we were glad 
 enough to have the apron up, and keep on our 
 over-coats ; but by the time we had driven 
 round to Pine Top, the mist began to dis- 
 perse — first it slipt off the hedges, and unfold- 
 ed to view the nut-trees laden with nuts, the 
 corn-fields bright with poppies and the pretty
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 67 
 
 wayside cottages 7— then presently the mist 
 rolled off from one hill-side, and retreating 
 clung like a veil to the other, then this too 
 melted away gradually, and we saw first the 
 hill tops, then the grassy side, and when it 
 had all dispersed, the butterflies came out by 
 dozens, bright aud gay in the hedgerows, and 
 the sun and clear blue sky bm*st upon us and 
 them all gloriously." 
 
 " Oh ! you are so romantic, Cecil, and 
 then that was diflerent, there is no com- 
 parison between summer mist and a great 
 winter fog," said Flora, leaning back and 
 shutting her eyes. 
 
 Lady Anne sat bolt upright, and continued 
 perseveringly looking at the fog. " Are there 
 many poor here, Cecil ?" she asked in an 
 absent tone. 
 
 " A whole village, Anne," he replied. 
 
 " Are they very poor — very neglected ?" she 
 asked again. 
 
 " Yes, there appears plenty of poverty in 
 Forsted." 
 
 " I am glad of it," obsen^ed Lady Anne. 
 
 "Oh, Anne !** exclaimed Lady Flora, start-
 
 68 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 ing up, with more energy than she had yet 
 displayed. 
 
 " You misunderstand me," said Lady Anne; 
 " I am not glad at their poverty, but rejoiced 
 that there is something to do in this isolated 
 spot." 
 
 " How odd you are, Anne," said Flora, 
 leaning back again, while Cecil opened his 
 eyes, and looked at his elder sister with a 
 comic expression of astonishment and wonder ; 
 "Flora smiled, it was a pity she did not do 
 so oftener, for it was a great improvement. 
 " Cecil is laughing at you, Anne," she ex- 
 claimed, "and no wonder; for you are the 
 oddest creature I ever saw." 
 
 " I am accustomed to it," was Lady Anne's 
 short reply, uttered in a tone of perfect un- 
 concern. 
 
 " What is the nearest family to the Castle ?" 
 •asked Flora. 
 
 " Mr. Neville's," replied her brother, " they 
 live at the Manor House, considerably nearer 
 the village than we." 
 
 "Is his wife a nice person?" asked Flora 
 again.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 69 
 
 "Mrs. Neville is dead, but he has two 
 charming daughters." 
 
 " Are they children, or have they already 
 been introduced ?" 
 
 " They have never been in London in their 
 lives, though Miss Neville is seventeen, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Then T know what they are, I have seen 
 specimens of the class before, rural young 
 ladies, who pass their lives making pies and 
 embroidering chair-backs, and have not two 
 ideas beyond their own village," said Flora. 
 
 " When you see the Miss Nevilles, you can 
 compare this description vdth them, and judge 
 if it agrees," replied Erresford. 
 
 " Nonsense, Cecil, I cannot wait till then ; 
 you must describe them yourself, are they 
 pretty ?" asked Mora. 
 
 '' Yes, both in a different style, for there is 
 no resemblance between them, at least in point 
 of feature, but they are alike in a certain 
 freshness and purity that have such a charm 
 for me, they remind me very much of the blue 
 heavens over which the black clouds have just 
 passed heavily, and yet no trace is left behind
 
 70 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 in the fair sky, and though I suppose no one 
 can Hve in the world, even in such a secluded 
 spot as Forsted, without some of its sins and 
 wickedness passing before their view, yet these 
 sisters are uncontaminated by them, I am sure 
 the mind of each would bear open inspection." 
 
 " What a high-floAvn description," said Lady 
 Anne, " are they well educated — who teaches 
 them ?" 
 
 '' They have been very much self-taught," 
 Erresford replied, " at least, from all that I hear 
 I imagine so, but their education is of that 
 kind that must give elegance, they have learned 
 much from the poetry of nature." 
 
 " I must see these young ladies," observed 
 the Countess, " I suppose they will call after 
 Sunday." 
 
 " You will in all probability be disappointed 
 in them at first," said Erresford, " for Lucy, 
 the younger, is extremely timid, and Maude is 
 rather cold with strangers." 
 
 " Maude and Lucy, what beautiful names !" 
 said the Countess, " they sound quite romantic, 
 I think I shall like the Miss Nevilles." 
 
 " We have all some peculiarity certainly,"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 71 
 
 observed Flora, " and I think mamma's must 
 be judging people so much by their names." 
 
 " I do not judge people by them, but I con- 
 fess names influence my opinion in some 
 degree," replied the Countess. 
 
 Just then the postillions turned their horses 
 sharply round a bend in the road, and the 
 carriage wheels rattled over the pavement of 
 the pretty hamlet of Sleebury, and stopped 
 before the swinging sign of the ' Blue Boar,' a 
 most warlike looking beast, grinning at travel- 
 lers through the fog, out of which two ostlers 
 issued to water the horses and light the carriage 
 lamps. A very quaint sounding bell chimed 
 the three quarters from a high old tower hard 
 by, looming doT\Ti upon them like a spectre 
 through the mist, and a number of little 
 country urchins came tumbling and scrambling 
 out of the parish school, shouting and hollow- 
 ing at one another in the darkness. Erresford, 
 who had alighted from the carriage, soon had 
 a knot of them around him, asking for half- 
 pence for squibs and crackers, though the fifth 
 of November had passed. There must have 
 been something very kindly in Erresford that 
 children were all so fascinated towards him.
 
 72 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 the poorest child in the London streets would 
 look up at him as he passed, and take sympathy 
 from his compassionate gaze. The Sleebury 
 boys all talked to him at once, told him their 
 names unasked, and soon forgot all about their 
 firework mania, till he flung a handful of half- 
 pence amongst them, which he had procured 
 from the jolly landlord of the ' Blue Boar,^ who 
 stood looking on admiringly — then while the 
 boys were scrambling in the fog, and tumbling 
 upon each other in their eagerness, the servants' 
 coach came up, containing the ladies-maids of 
 the Countess and her daughters, two parrots, 
 a lap-dog, and a German cat; so Erresford 
 sprung back into his seat, and the postillions 
 guided their horses slowly down the steep hills. 
 The darkness of evening had blended with the 
 darkness of the fog, when the old massive 
 doors were thrown open to receive the family 
 back to the Castle, after nearly a quarter of a 
 century's absence. No change had passed 
 over the place, the house looked defiant and 
 loyal still, with its Norman turrets grey, and 
 darkened Avith age and storms, and its cold 
 stone terraces and haunted chambers, and 
 liady Mora, who was the first to alight, almost
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 73 
 
 shuddered as she entered the wide, gloomy 
 looking hall, with its shining black oak floor- 
 ing and dark ceiling, with heroes and warriors, 
 from Roman History, looking down upon her. 
 There was plenty of shadow in the hall, the 
 centre lamp illumined the large marble 
 table and one or two paintings o^ the wall, 
 but there were great corners full of darkness, 
 appearing so traitorous and indistinct, that 
 Lady Flora paused on the threshold, and waited 
 for her brother, who had been assisting the 
 Countess and Lady Anne, and resting her 
 hand on his arm, she exclaimed in a dejected 
 tone : " Oh, Cecil, what a gloomy place !" 
 
 Instead of answering, Erresford led her 
 past the retinue of servants who were waiting 
 to receive the noble ladies, through one of 
 those dark corners to a door which was thrown 
 open by an attendant. There was as much 
 light here, as darkness without — it was the 
 reception-room ; a long, long room which 
 looked as if it would never end, with couches 
 and settees of all shapes and sizes down the 
 sides, among carv^ed, and inlaid tables, and 
 statuettes, and flowers grouped together on 
 slabs or in stands, while in the centre stood 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 a high crimson ottoman, stuffed with down, 
 and surmounted by a group of sculptured 
 figures — and against the walls the draperies 
 and paintings, of one side, were reflected in 
 the mirrors of the other; while long, high 
 windows with gilded devices on the shutters, 
 lace and damask shadowing them, extended 
 from the ceiling to the ground, and the 
 candelabra from the walls and those hanging 
 from the ceiling were all lighted ; so that 
 Lady Plora involuntarily closed her eyes, but 
 she re-opened them instantly, and looking at Er- 
 resford with less discontent on her countenance 
 than before, said, " this certainly looks more 
 like home !" then sitting down on a couch, she 
 looked at her reflection in the opposite mirror. 
 It showed her a bonnet crushed from travel- 
 ling, and a figure enveloped in 'svraps, she 
 turned away dissatisfied, and consulting a 
 gilded time-piece on a pedestal near her, she 
 Avalked slowly and silently away up the broad 
 staircase. There was a wide landing, almost 
 an upper haU at the top, filled with statuary 
 placed along the sides between a number of 
 high oak doors. Lady Flora listlessly placed 
 her hand on the handle of one, and went in
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 75 
 
 and sat down on the edge ©f a sofa by the fire. 
 She supposed the room was hers, she knew it 
 was to be in the front of the house, and she 
 saw her own traveling cloak lying on a chair ; 
 but she did not care to take the trouble of ring- 
 ing for her maid, so she rested her elbow on the 
 sofa cushion, and her face on her hand and 
 watched the coals dropping on the wide old 
 grate, she gazed sadly at them too and several 
 times a deep drawn sigh escaped her lips, her 
 countenance wore a discontented and dis- 
 satisfied expression ; but when was the time 
 that it did not? Poor Lady Flora! there 
 were many reasons why she sighed, and why 
 she should look dissatisfied ! what was there 
 — what had there ever been satisfying for her in 
 the world ? Oh, her's was a strange life ! 
 There are such things as favourites — favourite 
 doctors, favourite lawyers, favourite clergy- 
 men — there is also such a thing as a favourite 
 child, loved above all the rest, spoiled, con- 
 sulted, thought of, and moreover, set above 
 the others. The Lady Anne Erresford was 
 one of these. There are also children who 
 are not favourites, indeed w^ho are almost dis- 
 liked — being constantly reminded of their 
 
 E 2
 
 76 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 want of beauty, want of talent, their nnamia- 
 bility and a thousand other imperfections — 
 and, at last, learn to look upon themselves as 
 the most miserable and unfortunate specimens 
 of childhood — to this class belonged the Lady 
 Flora. 
 
 The Countess De Walden was by nature 
 neither affectionate nor warm-hearted, and 
 all the love she could call forth, she bestowed 
 on her eldest child, the Lady Anne— -she was 
 so proud of her beauty, so vain of her talents, 
 so charmed with her reserve and pride, that 
 she wished her to be her only daughter, and 
 lier wish for some time appeared likely to be 
 fulfilled, when fourteen years after Flora was 
 born. This was an immense disappointment 
 to the Countess, her whole heart was in the 
 gay society, which she frequented and where 
 her uncommon beauty and high rank made 
 her the star of attraction, and she thought 
 her handsome Anne and her two noble boys, 
 Frederick and Cecil, the one two, and the 
 other six years Anne's juniors, quite enough 
 for her mother's pride, and the plain, puny 
 child whose crying she protested, quite wore 
 her out, was looked upon as an intruder and
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 77 
 
 a trouble. Love and fond caresses were un- 
 known to the little Mora, except from her 
 warm-hearted nurse, who vented her honest 
 indignation at '' my lady's shameful neglect," 
 in redoubled care of the hapless infant ; 
 and almost the first thing Flora heard or 
 knew was the sad, withering fact, that 
 her mother did not love her. No mother's 
 step trod the nursery floor — no mother's 
 voice called forth her baby's smile ! indeed, 
 the three first years of her life, she scarcely 
 ever saw her mother, she had been sent 
 away with her nurse from Park Lane down 
 to the estate in Essex, before she was two 
 months old, while her lady mother com- 
 pleted a London season, and then went oft* 
 attended by her lord — who, by the way, was 
 an easy, devoted husband — and accompanied 
 by Lady Anne, for a ramble in Italy, without 
 even desiring to see her child — and in the 
 winter, when they returned to England, they 
 went immediately into Warwickshire to pass 
 the Christmas with Lord Howard, the 
 Countess' father, and from there they flitted 
 to Brighton, and from Brighton to Park Lane, 
 and so on for three years, at the termination
 
 78 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 of which, the Earl died suddenly. There was 
 an end, at least for the present, to all gaieties, 
 and the " Morning Post" told the world the 
 widowed Countess and suite had gone to the 
 estate in Essex — they did not add and to her 
 forlorn little child ; for so rarely had she ever 
 been mentioned, that very few people knew of 
 her existence, and those few, from the reluc- 
 tance with which the Countess spoke of her, 
 thought she must be imbecile or deformed — 
 so the Countess' admiring friends never 
 troubled her with Lady Flora's name. And 
 now, when the tall, stately lady sat in her 
 boudoir, all clad in crape, with her massive 
 hair hidden away beneath the flutings of her 
 cap, and her little child was brought to receive 
 its mother's kiss ; she was frightened at the 
 dark drapery, and cold, set expression of her 
 stranger parent, and turning away screaming 
 from her outstretched arms, was carried back 
 to her nursery without any caress, and pro- 
 nounced by her ladyship " a passionate, queer- 
 looking little thing," and her ladyship seldom 
 interfered with her, till it was time to take 
 her from her nurse's kind care, and consign 
 her to a governess who was sent down to
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 79 
 
 Essex, to commence Flora's education. She 
 was not naturally a stupid child, but she 
 wanted humouring and assistance in her 
 lessons, and this she never received, her 
 favourite studies she was least encouraged in, 
 and those she dishked were pressed upon her. 
 The governess soon discovered that the 
 Countess did not care for her little pupil, and 
 acted accordingly, and when Lady De Walden 
 expressed to Miss Blockett, what a pity it was 
 Lady Mora was not clever hke her sister — 
 Miss Blockett replied, " Yes, it was a pity, 
 for Lady Anne was quite a genius," and when 
 the Countess deplored Flora's plain looks. 
 Miss Blockett said, " Yes, she had none of her 
 Ladyship's beauty," then her ladyship would 
 rest her beautiful eyes on little, plain Miss 
 Blockett, and without even a smile in acknow- 
 ledgment of the compliment, say, " Well, do 
 the best you can with her, only do not let me 
 hear her cry," and so turn away and forget 
 poor Flora, and her troubles in her splendid 
 daughter Anne. The Countess mourned two 
 years for the noble earl, and then she put 
 aside her weeds, and went with Lady Anne to 
 the mansion in Park Lane, which had been
 
 80 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 beautified to receive them, for the Lady Anne 
 was nineteen, and was to commence her Hfe of 
 gaiety by a presentation at Court. The 
 Countess had centred all her hopes in some 
 brilliant alliance for her elder daughter ; but 
 though she created some sensation, yet season 
 after season passed, and she was still only the 
 Lady Anne Erresford. She did not take with 
 the young noblemen, who, at first, had flocked 
 around her, the fact was they were afraid of 
 her ; " the Countess was proud and reserved 
 enough," they said among themselves, " but 
 Lady Anne was unbearable ;" in truth, she 
 had been so consulted and praised by her 
 family, and so worshipped by her fawning 
 dependants, that she mounted high the pinnacle 
 of pride, and stood on such a lofty elevation, 
 that she was constantly looking up to self, 
 and could never get self to look down upon 
 any one else. 
 
 And all this time. Lady Flora was growing 
 up in her solitude with her cross, servile 
 governess, and passing her day over tasks, or 
 in the corner ; she was natiu'ally an idle, and 
 a passionate child, and as she was never 
 encouraged in her studies, and always pro-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 81 
 
 voked when she lost her temper, both these 
 failings grew upon her, and cold treatment 
 also formed deceit, for weary of punishment, 
 she learnt to tell falsehoods to hide her fail- 
 ings — and, certainly, she became anything but 
 an agreeable child — she was so constantly told 
 how naughty she was by her governess, and 
 how impossible it was to love her by her 
 mother, and how very wicked she would grow 
 up if she did not improve by her sister. But 
 she did not grow up wicked ; when she was 
 fourteen, a circumstance occurred which 
 altered her character materially — the gover- 
 ness, a fawning, unprincipled creature, mar- 
 ried the steward of a neighbouring estate — 
 it was a time of rejoicing for her poor pupil, 
 particularly as her successor was as kind and 
 conscientious as Miss Blockett had been the 
 contrary. 
 
 She was a widow, and had in her heart a 
 mother's love, she quickly found out the whole 
 history of poor Flora's life, and began her 
 course accordingly ; she did not occupy her- 
 self so much in teaching as in influence, and 
 Mora found it no longer necessary to tell 
 
 E 3
 
 82 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 falsehoods from fear, she was encouraged, 
 assisted, and kindly and gently helped in her 
 troubles ; so that though she was still a 
 frightened, nervous girl, and regarded herself 
 as something uncommonly wicked and sad, 
 and cried herself to sleep night after night, in 
 sorrow, at her ugliness, yet she became quiet 
 and gentle, and even learnt to smile, and 
 sweet those smiles were when they came, 
 though they were wintry and transient, and 
 were sometimes as melancholy as tears. 
 
 Lady Flora was not introduced till she was 
 twenty, and then, from an awkward, ugly 
 child, she had changed to an interesting, 
 elegant girl; she was tall and slight, with 
 rather a bend in her graceful figure, and 
 though there was no bloom on her pale 
 cheeks, yet her small, delicately formed 
 features, and soft, dark hair, her anxious, 
 frightened expression, and her very pensive 
 eyes, which were scarcely ever raised to any 
 one's face, made her, if not really pretty, very 
 attractive, and though Lady Anne, with all 
 her beauty had settled down to a decided old 
 maid at thirty-four ; yet a fortnight after her
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 83 
 
 introduction, Lady Tlora received proposals 
 jfrom the rich, and influential Lord Glen- 
 dowan. 
 
 The Countess was surprised, and charmed 
 — really Flora had risen considerably in her 
 mother's esteem by this offer — Lord Glen- 
 dowan was certainly twenty years her senior, 
 but then he was descended from a long line of 
 ancestry, and was so looked up to, and 
 courted, and poor Lady Flora had no alterna- 
 tive but to accept him — and indeed she felt 
 grateful to him for his esteem ; but, alas ! 
 poor girl, though she tried, and longed, she 
 could never love him in return ! surely if 
 devotion to her every look, and every word, 
 if costly gifts could have produced love, they 
 ought with her, but Lord Glendowan was not 
 fated to call forth the warmth of that heart 
 which had so long been a stranger to 
 affection. 
 
 It may be imagined that it was annoying 
 to the Lady Anne, to feel herself neglected 
 with all her talents and beauty, while her 
 unattractive sister was engaged immediately 
 she entered society ; but Lady Anne was cold 
 and impassive, and did not trouble herself
 
 84 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 about it, indeed she preferred remaining 
 single ; only that the life of inactivity rather 
 bored her busy mind — ^just then, however, 
 Tractarianism came on the tapis, a little off- 
 shoot from its mother oak — Rome — this was 
 just the thing for Lady Anne, a perfect boon ; 
 it made her of consequence, gave her some- 
 thing to do, so she espoused the cause warmly, 
 opened her heart and her purse, patronized 
 long-coated clergymen, got up subscriptions 
 for modernizing churches, and adorning chan- 
 cels, wore a gold cross round her neck, and 
 did her Puseyism in a highly approved 
 manner, and set the fashion for a number of 
 young ladies, as silly as herself, to follow. 
 Poor Lady Flora grew more and more into 
 Anne's ill-favour, by not agreeing with, and 
 following her fashionable excitement, not that 
 she ever attempted to argue on the subject, 
 she was too indolent and timid, but she some- 
 times ventured a remark, and was always 
 treated by the Lady Anne with cold disdain. 
 
 The late earl had left in his will, that his 
 daughters were not to marry till they came 
 of age, and the Lady Flora remained engaged 
 to Lord Glendowan a whole year; her one
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 85 
 
 and twentieth birthday came and passed away, 
 and when her noble suitor spoke of the time 
 he hoped to claim her as his bride, she put 
 him off for another year, on the plea of her 
 brother Lord De Walden's illness, and the 
 Countess's absence, who was travelling in 
 France with her son ; at length, however, 
 Lady Flora consented that their marriage 
 should take place the summer following the 
 November which found them at the Castle. 
 During the last few years, a new and unex- 
 pected pleasure had dawned upon the Lady 
 Flora, her brother Cecil, whom she had rarely 
 seen, had lost the uncle who had adopted him 
 as his heir, and he returned for some time to 
 the home he had seldom visited since his boy- 
 hood ; Cecil had heard his sister Flora spoken 
 of as a disagreable, wilful child, and had pitied 
 her, not knowing how disliked and neglected 
 she was, but when he came home and saw the 
 timid, uncomplaining girl, pity changed to love 
 for his young sister, and displeasure against 
 those who had so cruelly neglected her. 
 
 It was a long time, however, before Flora 
 would allow him to show her any affection ; 
 she was afraid of him, and when he addressed
 
 86 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 her, expected it would be a lecture ; but by 
 degrees her fears vanished, and almost the only 
 person in her family she did not dread, and 
 at whose name she invoked a blessing in her 
 prayers, was her brother Cecil.
 
 LUjaf--AYLMER. 87 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 She seem'd a thing 
 Of Heaven's prime uncorrupted work, a child 
 
 Of early stature undefil'd. 
 A daughter of the years of innocence, 
 And therefore all things lov'd her. 
 
 SOTJTHET. 
 
 SquiPvE Neville stood outside his hall door^ 
 stamping first one foot and then the other on 
 the hard ground, for a frost had succeeded the 
 November fog — a tall horse harnessed to a 
 very high dog-cart, was also there — the old 
 family coach, and the httle low park carriage, 
 which Mrs. Neville used to drive, had both 
 been sold long ago, to pay for one of the 
 Squire's hunters, so the dog-cart was the only 
 vehicle left in which to drive his daughters.
 
 88 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 and, indeed, Maude and Lucy preferred it to 
 any other that could have been offered them, 
 in the first place, because it was so nice and 
 high, and in the second, because their father 
 invariably drove it. To-day he was to take 
 them to Castle St. Agnes, to pay their first 
 visit to the Countess. They had dressed with 
 more than usual care in " Aunt Augusta's " 
 latest presents, and as the Squire lifted them 
 up on to the high front seat, he gave them 
 both an approving look ; and when he was 
 fairly seated by their side, he told them they 
 were bonnie girls, and he was not ashamed of 
 them. Then the groom jumped up behind, and 
 they set off down the drive, the fair Lucy 
 ensconced snugly between her father and 
 Maude, and covered with a scarlet wrapper 
 which reflected a bloom on her cheeks. 
 
 The Squire, who thought the girls might 
 possibly be frightened at the prospect of meet- 
 ing strangers, talked merrily all the way as 
 they drove down the hill, into the valley, and 
 then up the road to the Castle. The Squire 
 drew up at the park gates and asked the lodge- 
 keeper if the Countess were at home, and the 
 man answered, " my Lady had taken her drive
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 89 
 
 in the morning, and that she ne^ er went out 
 twice in the day" — so on went the Squire's tall 
 horse, arching his proud neck into quite an 
 aristocratic curve, as much as to tell his neigh- 
 bours, the stud of the Countess' stables, should 
 any of them be in sight, that he considered 
 himself quite as good as they, and while the 
 Squire assisted his daughters to alight before 
 the old Norman mansion, the noble animal 
 stood pawing up the new gravel, and shaking 
 his head at the powdered footmen at the door 
 with a perfect air of disdain. 
 
 All the dark corners of the hall which had 
 thrown a chilling feeling into Lady Flora's 
 heart, were light now with the slanting rays 
 of a frosty, autumn sun, which was already 
 declining and glancing restlessly about, now 
 falling on an ancestral painting, now throwing 
 warmth and almost life on a cold sculptm'ed 
 group. * Maude, who was quick in observa- 
 tion, saw everything at a glance, but timid 
 Lucy only saw the very tall footman before 
 her, and the door he was aiming at — the door 
 that shut in the Countess and her daughters. 
 The Countess and the Ladies Erresford, were 
 sitting in a large winter room, snug and warm
 
 IJO LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 as room could be, all the rays the sun shone 
 through vapours and mists, the winter room 
 received — a yawning grate piled with good 
 Forsted timber, helped the sun, and so did 
 deep crimson draperies, and wadded and 
 stuffed elbow-chairs and sofas. Oh, how 
 nice and warm ! thought Maude, after her 
 drive through the autumn air, but Lucy's first 
 thought was, how untidy ! — indeed, the unti- 
 diness quite distressed her neat little mind — 
 close by a bay window was a square table, 
 whose cover had been thrown off over a chair, 
 and which was entirely hidden with great 
 sheets of brown paper, piles of tracts, large 
 scissors, — more fit for a tailor's shop than a 
 lady's fingers — coarse thread, needles, pens, 
 ink, and all the paraphernalia for covering and 
 marking tracts, and behind all this litter, 
 stood Lady Anne in a dark silk dress, with a 
 gold cross suspended round her ne^k by a 
 band of purple velvet, and in the act of seam- 
 ing down some paper with the great scissors. 
 Close to the fire, as close as chair could pos- 
 sibly stand, sat Lady Flora, in a very low 
 seat, bending over a very delicate piece of 
 embroidery, with a small inlaid table at her
 
 LTJCr AYLMER. 91 
 
 elbow, heaped up with other pieces of em- 
 broidery, unfinished crotchet, and wool-work ; 
 while a work-box stood on a chair behind her. 
 The Countess, who scorned fires, had appro- 
 priated the centre table, where uncut books 
 reposed tranquilly in the vicinity of a menac- 
 ing paper-knife turning its threatening edge 
 towards a stout, important-looking volume, 
 companion to the one Lady De Walden held 
 in her hand, and which she laid aside as she 
 rose, so thought Lucy — to a height quite 
 awful, increased by the train of her black 
 velvet dress. She was a beautiful woman, 
 with wavy hair encircling a face age had not 
 yet robbed of its loveliness — she unbent and 
 put aside her stateliness as her visitors en- 
 tered, and even smiled down on the blushing, 
 timid face of Lucy, who did not feel afraid 
 after she had heard the courteous tones of her 
 voice, fior did she fear Lady Mora, who 
 looked up at her from beneath her long eye- 
 lashes, wished her a very quiet good morning, 
 and then, turning to Maude, for whom she 
 cleared away the work-box, invited her to the 
 fire. But Lucy really did feel very uncom- 
 fortable, when she found herself occupying the
 
 92 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 same sofa with Lady Anne, who, putting 
 aside her thimble aud scissors, condescended 
 to entertain her youthful visitor. She was 
 very handsome, but her compressed lips and 
 stern eyes, took away all the pleasantness of 
 her beauty. Poor Lucy folded her hands 
 and looked across the room to Maude, taking 
 all the trouble of conversation off Lady Flora. 
 She did not envy her sister, but she thought 
 it woidd be nice to be a little like Maude — 
 not that Lady Anne was silent, on the con- 
 trary, she exerted herself to entertain her 
 young guest, though she thought it particu- 
 larly hard work. She began by saying, she 
 had been wishing to see Lucy and her sister, 
 having heard so much of them from her 
 brother. Lucy did not know what to answer 
 to this, so she only smiled in reply, and made 
 Lady Anne think, what a stupid child ! But, 
 poor Lucy, hearing Maude mention the 
 village, caught an idea, and told Lady Anne, 
 she hoped she would like Forsted. 
 
 " I have no doubt I shall," Lady Anne 
 replied. " There seems a great sphere of use- 
 fulness here, and when our new vicar comes, 
 I shall begin to work in real earnest."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 93 
 
 How? thought Lucy a little puzzled, she 
 did not ask, of course ; but said she hoped 
 every one would be glad when Robert came. 
 
 " I think my brother told me, you knoAv 
 Mr. Aylmer intimately," said Lady Anne, 
 letting those deep, searching eyes rest on the 
 quiet countenance of Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, we have knoTMi Robert ever since 
 we can recollect, he used to be our play- 
 fellow," she replied. 
 
 The idea of the future vicar of Forsted 
 having been the playfellow of the shy little 
 girl before her was too much for Lady Anne, 
 and she actually sighed, not rudely, but quite 
 a sigh of pity, for herself, for the village, and 
 for all the inhabitants of Worsted St. Agnes. 
 
 " The painting and white-washing in the 
 church will soon be finished, I think," said 
 Lucy, getting a little emboldened. Lady 
 Anne was not attending, she was listening to 
 her mother's conversation with the Squire, so 
 she only replied, " yes, very soon," in a listless 
 tone that showed she was not thinkinor at all 
 
 o 
 
 about it. 
 
 But poor Lucy who thought it incumbent
 
 94 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 on her to try to talk to a person so much 
 older than herself, and little guessing — how 
 should she, innocent child, to whom the word 
 Puseyism was unknown — Lady Anne's new 
 religious excitement, observed how glad she 
 was the church was not altered, and asked 
 Lady Anne if it would not have been a 
 pity? 
 
 This direct appeal recalled Lady Anne's 
 attention, and she said with her searching 
 eyes again turned on Lucy. " Why so ?" 
 
 " Oh, I do not know, only I thought it 
 might have been spoiled," replied Lucy with a 
 series of confused blushes, that made her look 
 very pretty. 
 
 " Altering would not have spoiled it, Miss 
 Neville, any more than it did preparing this 
 house to receive us," replied Lady Anne, in a 
 very patronizing, instructive tone, as if she 
 were explaining to a child the first rudiments 
 of some new study. 
 
 " No," Lucy answered mechanically, but in 
 an unconvinced voice. 
 
 " Of course, it could not, my dear, churches 
 must be decorated according to the prevailing
 
 LrCY AYLMER. 95 
 
 style of architecture/' Lady Anne said this in 
 the same way, and immediately she said it, 
 sprang up and stamped her foot on the 
 hearth rug, to the great astonishment of Lucy, 
 who had not observed rather a large piece of 
 burning coal, pop suddenly out of the fire. 
 " I wonder you did not see it, Plora,'' re- 
 marked Lady Anne. 
 
 But Plora had not noticed it, for those very 
 pensive eyes were cast dowm as usual, even 
 now, w^hen Maude all in a glow of animation, 
 was describing a pic-nic party they made some 
 years back to the sea, w^hen Lucy nearly fell 
 over the cliffs, but Robert saved her. 
 
 " Mr. Aylmer looks too passive to be the 
 principal actor in any scene of danger," w^as 
 Lady Flora's reply w^hen Maude paused in her 
 narrative. 
 
 " T have often heard people find fault with 
 Robert for being too passive, but there is a 
 great deal more in him than they think, w'hat 
 Robert requires, is bringing out." 
 
 " I dare say I am mistaken, but to me he 
 always appeared as if designing persons could 
 mould him as they pleased — he has no direct 
 opinions of his own. I do not w^ant to find
 
 96 1.UCY AYLMER. 
 
 fault with Mr. Aylmer, for I pity him, it is a 
 weakness, and no one but those who are un- 
 decided know how unhappy it may make 
 them;" this was an unusually long speech 
 for Flora, but Maude's frankness had inspired 
 her, and she leant back in her chair and 
 drooped her head, as if she were quite unused 
 to the exertion. 
 
 " I am sure Robert is very happy, unless 
 he is altered during the last six months/' said 
 Maude, her briUiant eyes sparkling, " at least, 
 he used to be, in the days when we played 
 hide and seek, and climbed trees together, and 
 Avhen he has occasionally visited us, since he 
 has been a clergyman, I am sure he was always 
 cheerful enough." 
 
 " Oh, very likely," replied Lady Flora 
 languidly, " you know I have only seen him 
 as my brother's friend, he is your intimate ac- 
 quaintance, of course, you can judge better of 
 his character, it was simply a fancy of mine 
 that he was wavering." 
 
 " I think you are," thought Maude, who felt 
 rather a contempt for Lady Flora's hesitating 
 opinions, and yet there was something in that 
 drooping head, and those pensive yet earnest
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 97 
 
 eyes, whose glance, whenever it was raised, 
 seemed to expect reproach and dissatisfaction, 
 that ought to have inspired pity and sym- 
 pathy, rather than contempt. 
 
 " Do you ride, Miss Neville ?" asked Lady 
 Flora, after playing a few moments in 
 silence, with her watch chain, during which 
 time, Maude was looking round to see how 
 her darling got on with Lady Anne. 
 
 "I can ride, but I do so seldom," she 
 repHed, " because I do not like to leave my 
 sister alone." 
 
 "Is Miss Lucy timid?" enquired Lady 
 Flora, and turning towards the calm little 
 face, she continued, " how sweet your sister 
 looks !" 
 
 " And I assure you, her looks and her dis- 
 position agree, you cannot possibly fancy 
 how good and delightful she is." Maude's 
 face beamed at this opportunity of praising 
 her sister, and then she said in answer to 
 Flora's question, " Yes, she is rather timid, 
 she had a fall once, it was not a bad one ; but 
 it took away her courage, besides the exercise 
 of riding fatigues her very much." 
 
 " Is not your sister strong ?" asked Lady 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Flora, again looking at Lucy, and wishing she, 
 too, had such a gentle sister. 
 
 " Oh, we are never ill !" replied Maude, a 
 glow of health suffusing her countenance, 
 " only Lucy cannot ride quickly, or run very 
 fast, it takes away her breath." 
 
 " It is to be hoped she has not a heart 
 complaint," said Lady Flora, still resting her 
 eyes on Lucy. 
 
 Maude looked very surprised as she 
 answered, " Wliat an odd idea. Lady Flora !" 
 but she was silent for a few minutes after- 
 wards, and looked grave ; for she did not like 
 even the idea of anything being amiss with 
 her darling Lucy; Lady Flora, however, 
 roused her by a soft exclamation of, " She is 
 really lovely !" 
 
 Again came Maude's beaming look, and 
 with it a sort of liking for Lady Flora, because 
 she admired her sister. 
 
 " Has your sister ever had her likeness 
 taken ?" asked Flora very timidly, as if the 
 question were rude. 
 
 " No, never," replied Maude, '' there arc 
 no artists down here ; I wish there were, that 
 I might have her picture."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 99 
 
 Ladv Flora cast her eves ven' much down, 
 and twisted her chain up into a Httle cable, 
 between her nervous fingers, as she hesi- 
 tatinc:lv remarked, " Do vou think vour sister 
 would let me tiy r" 
 
 " Try what, Lady Plora ?" asked Maude, 
 bluntly. 
 
 '' Only I fancy I have a little taste for 
 sketchinor likenesses ; I drew an old house- 
 keeper of oui-'s, and I took a few portraits of 
 the French peasantry', when we visited poor 
 De Walden last summer — please do not say 
 an}1;hing about it now," she added, as Maude 
 turned towards her sister ; " but if some day, 
 when we are alone, you would ask her, it 
 would be such a pleasure to have a httle 
 sketch of her face, I should like to look at it 
 sometimes." There was something: almost 
 painful in the self-depreciating, frightened 
 tone in which she said this ; but Maude did 
 not obsen'e it, she was so pleased and flat- 
 tered with Lady Flora's notice of Lucy, and 
 even blushed with pleasure, as if the praise 
 had been her own ; she assured Lady Flora 
 that Lucy would be veiy glad to let her take 
 
 F 2
 
 100 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 her likeness, and added she hoped Lady Flora 
 would come to see them soon. 
 
 " Yes, I hope so, I will call when I am able ; 
 would it be intruding, if I came in the morn- 
 ing : Mamma and Anne make calls after 
 luncheon, and I would rather visit you alone;" 
 she said this in a low tone, and Maude 
 thought her very odd; but she told her 
 they would gladly see her in the morning. 
 
 " Is it a long walk to your house ?" 
 
 "Not quite two miles," replied Maude, 
 " but do you not drive ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes 1 but Anne wants the pony chair 
 for her people, for visiting them — I mean, she 
 began the second day we came, and she 
 intends making a systematic plan, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " Scarcely any of the villagers can read," 
 said Maude, glancing towards the square 
 table, where lay the tracts. 
 
 "Oh! can they not? poor things, how 
 sad !" exclaimed Flora. 
 
 "It will be worse than useless to give 
 them tracts, Lucy and I always read to them 
 ourselves."
 
 LUCY AYLMEU. 101 
 
 " Do you visit the poor, and does Lucy — 
 your sister, I mean — visit, too ?" asked Lady 
 Flora, with more interest than she had yet 
 displayed. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! certainly we do," replied 
 Maude, a little surprised at the question, 
 *' and do you not, also ?" 
 
 " Mamma never allowed me to go when I 
 was a child, and now I do not know what to 
 say, I am afraid to read for fear they should 
 not like it ; besides, it makes me unhappy to see 
 poor women working so hard, the children 
 half clothed, and the men so intoxicated." 
 
 '' Could you not help them ?" said the 
 straight -forward Maude, ''it is so easy to find 
 things to say, you can talk about their children 
 and their gardens, and they ask us themselves 
 for a ' pretty chapter.' " 
 
 " Do they ?" said Flora, " they behave so 
 differently to Anne, when we were at AVood 
 Hall, our house in Essex, a woman once turned 
 Anne out by her shoulders." 
 
 Maude laughed, and Lady Flora looked as 
 if she dreaded Lady Anne inquiring the cause. 
 
 '' An old man did the same thing to Robert," 
 said Maude, when she had finished laughing.
 
 102 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 "And what did Mr. Aylmer do?" asked 
 Elora. 
 
 " Oh, a very naughty thing," rephed Maude, 
 " he stopped his allowance ; did not 1 scold 
 Robert well for it !" she laughed again at 
 the remembrance. 
 
 " Mr. Aylmer appears very good tempered," 
 remarked Lady Mora. 
 
 " Indeed he is," Maude answered, " he lets 
 us do and say exactly what we please, he is 
 quite a brother to us — and we always said 
 Mildred was our sister, and Robert used to 
 call Lucy his ' little wife ' — she is quite a pet 
 of his." 
 
 Lady Flora looked again at Lucy, the last 
 beams of the declining sun encircling her like 
 a glory, and a flush as of a summer rose on 
 her face; she was listening to Lady De Walden, 
 who said to the Squire, she hoped they would 
 be good neighbours — to which the Squire re- 
 plied, it should not be his fault if they were 
 not — and then he rose after an unfashionably 
 long visit that quite shocked Lady Anne, 
 wished the noble ladies good morning — and 
 mounting the girls again in the high dog-cart, 
 covered them well up in plaids and wrappers.
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 103 
 
 the tall horse shook his proud neck once more, 
 and was soon in a trot down the hill. 
 
 " A rum concern that !" said a footman as 
 he watched the visitors off. 
 
 " Not much tin there/' said another, who 
 was warming his hands by the hall fire. 
 Now by the word ' tin,' he meant money and 
 riches such as his noble mistress possessed, 
 but the Squire was richer than the Countess, 
 insomuch that his two bonnie girls were 
 younger and fairer than hers, and sweeter too, 
 he thought ; and when the Squire sat down 
 that evening in the somewhat thread-bare 
 drawing-room, and played ' old maid ' by the 
 light, or rather shade, of an old-fashioned 
 lamp, he thought himself a very rich man, aye, 
 and a very happy man, too ! — and so he was 
 then. But there are shadows as well as sun- 
 beams on our life, sometimes the shadows fall 
 on our purse, or on our children, or on our- 
 selves. Now of every possible shadow, the one 
 the Squire would least have chosen, had choice 
 been his, was one that might fall on his children 
 — his favourite expression in allusion to their 
 happiness, was ; "he would be shot first, 
 before anything should harm them." But
 
 104 LUCY AYLMER, 
 
 we cannot always choose our shadows, can 
 we Squire? because we should not always 
 choose those that are best for us, should we 
 Squire ? for those that seem worst when they 
 fall are best, only we don't know it — so do not 
 attempt to choose your shadows, or talk about 
 being shot, Squire. 
 
 But there are no shadows about the Squire's 
 hearth now, so why should we talk of such 
 dismal things — and there are no shadows near 
 the Squire's hearth, are there. I see none ? 
 Robert Aylmer, has written to-night to teU the 
 Squire he will come and stay at the Manor 
 House next week, till the vicarage is finished ; 
 and I am sure no one considers Robert a 
 shadow — he is always a joy — the girls laugh 
 more, and the Squire talks more, when he is 
 there. No, there are no shadows except such 
 as the fair moon throws among the oaks and 
 elms on the lawns, and in through the latticed 
 windows on the dark wainscoting at midnight, 
 and she even peeps through a space in the 
 green curtains and sheds a pale beam or two 
 on the couch where Lucy sleeps, but she keeps 
 the shadows off Maude, on Lucy they fall, but 
 the light falls too on her pillow and weaves a
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 105 
 
 circlet above her brow, one hand is under her 
 head, she always sleeps so, and it raises her to 
 meet the light ; it is a very faint light, for the 
 curtains strive to keep it out, but it mil come 
 — ^it is there — there is always light where Lucy 
 Neville is, there is innocence on Lucy Neville's 
 brow, and this hght loves to be there. 
 
 F 3
 
 106 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 When thy bounding step I hear, 
 And thy soft voice low and clear. 
 When thy glancing eye I meet, 
 In their sudden laughter sweet. 
 Thou^ I dream, wert surely born 
 For a path by care unworn. 
 Thou must be a sheltered flower, 
 With but sunshine for thy bower. 
 
 MBS. HEMANS. 
 
 The stage-coach from Arminster, brought 
 Robert Aylmer and his luggage to Forsted, he 
 went first to the Vicarage, deposited his pack- 
 ages, and looked about him a little, admiring 
 the neat style of the alterations and decora- 
 tions, and heard with pleasure from the men 
 employed, " that it was Mr. Erresford's taste, 
 and that Mr. Erresford, came a'most every day 
 to see after it hisself."
 
 LUCY AYI<MER. 107 
 
 What was there which the Honourable 
 Cecil Erresford, one of the representatives of 
 the county, sole controller of the De Walden 
 estates, and possessing besides the vast fortune 
 bequeathed him by his uncle — clever — hand- 
 some — courted — what was there which he had 
 not been to Robert Aylmer ? the son of a poor 
 country gentleman, whose small property had 
 been sold to pay for his extravagance and folly. 
 
 Poor Robert Aylmer ! what would have 
 become of him without Cecil, for his relations, 
 like himself, were nearly all portionless ? He 
 had a brother, some years his senior, who had 
 also chosen the church as his profession, and 
 was ordained to a London curacy of eighty 
 pounds per annum, under a fat, lazy Rector, 
 who passed half his life in travelling about, 
 trying to spend the one thousand nine hundred 
 and twenty which his curate left him. 
 
 Bad air, and hard work, however, waged 
 war with the naturally weak constitution of 
 Lascelles Aylmer, and one day as the Reverend 
 the Rector, was handing his lady into his 
 splendid herald-emblazoned carriage, while on 
 one of his foreign excursions, the post brought 
 a letter from his churchwarden — short — con-
 
 108 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 cise, announcing the six weeks illness, and 
 finally the death of his young and excellent 
 curate. The Rector actually managed a few 
 tears, expressed his regrets — and then Avrote 
 to his churchwarden by return of post, to be 
 on the look out for a hard-working, unmarried 
 clergyman, to begin on the graves of his pre- 
 decessors, to work and wear himself out, all 
 for eighty pounds per annum ! — worthy 
 Rector ! 
 
 Then Robert Aylmer, had a sister Mildred, a 
 dimpled, rosy girl, who seemed to have thrived 
 well on the poverty of Preston Hall, and who, 
 at its sale, and her parents' death, went to live 
 with a rich aunt in London, who, however, 
 contrived to make her life so miserable, that 
 she quickly fell in love with a lieutenant, in a 
 regiment ordered on foreign service, and 
 managed to live happily in Canada, on 
 scarcely more than her stylish Aunt in Belgra- 
 via, spent yearly on her gloves. And Robert, 
 the youngest of the once great house of 
 Aylmer, which bore a coronet on its scutch- 
 eons, and had fought manfully in many of 
 England's great battles — what became of 
 him ? — he had the good fortune to please his
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 109 
 
 Belgravian uncle, who gave him a year at 
 Eton, where he first fell in with Cecil Erres- 
 ford. Robert was a meek, passionless boy, 
 amiable to a fault, idle and wavering as a 
 natural result. He fell into disgrace ^^ith 
 his masters, and became a mark on whom his 
 companions might play their practical jokes, 
 and persecute to their hearts' content. But 
 Erresford came to the rescue, he began by 
 Hking Robert, simply because every one else 
 made him an object of contempt ; and then 
 he proceeded to like him for his amiable quali- 
 ties, which Cecil speedily discovered, and 
 after a short friendship, there w^as not one of 
 Robert's former persecutors, who dared to lay 
 a finger on him — so much for Cecil's cham- 
 pionship. But Robert's year at Eton soon 
 expired, and then his rich relation, disap- 
 pointed with his progress, repented his muni- 
 ficence, and intimated to the Aylmers that he 
 could no longer support their son — too proud 
 to ask a continuance of his favours, they pre- 
 pared to remove Robert to their poor home, 
 when young Erresford discovered the real 
 state of things. No one knew how% for 
 Cecil never pryed into closely guarded
 
 110 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 secrets, and from his own handsome allow- 
 ance, he determined to support his friend. 
 At first, his uncle was averse to this, but 
 Cecil steadily persevered in his request, and 
 at last carried the day, as he usually did with 
 every one ; and from that time forth, Cecil 
 performed an elder brother's part towards 
 Robert, and on his parents' death, insisted on 
 his home becoming Aylmer's. When the 
 two friends left Eton, Cecil bade Robert 
 choose a profession, and after much hesita- 
 tion, his choice fell on the Church, and toge- 
 ther young Erresford and his protege entered 
 Oxford life, and there it required all Cecil's tact 
 and influence to keep Robert from harm, not 
 that he was dissipated or gay, but ever waver- 
 ing, ever easily led, he threatened again to 
 become the tool of designing companions ; but 
 Erresford saved him, and had the satisfaction 
 of seeing him settle in a curacy, not many miles 
 from Lord De Walden's property in Essex, 
 and there he remained until Mr. Eerrers' death 
 left vacant the living of Eorsted, which he had 
 come into possession, that very day, and as 
 he took a survey of his parsonage, promising 
 to be so comfortable, what wonder was there
 
 LUCY AYLMER. Ill 
 
 that in common with many others, he blessed 
 the name of Erresford ? He looked around 
 the Httle church, which, though painted, and 
 cleaned, Erresford had left unaltered — up to 
 the gallery with the crimson fittings, and the 
 coat of arms, round at the white-painted 
 pews, and Httle pulpit with stairs so narrow, 
 he wondered how he should be able to ascend 
 them, and then at the plain Httle chancel, 
 where a man was laying down, first matting, 
 and then dark purple carpet to cover the 
 stone flags, and though this too was Erresford's 
 doing, yet Robert's face wore just the sHght- 
 est shade of disappointment, he would have 
 liked a little more ornament, a few hints in 
 architecture and taste from that ' dear sister 
 of ours' who watches over us with such kind 
 and tender care, and stretches out her helping 
 hands in the building and decorating of our 
 churches ! Not that Robert thought himself 
 ' High Church,' on the contrary, he fancied 
 himself just the thing — perfectly orthodox ! 
 He could not be supposed to guess that the 
 dear sister ! had an eye on him, and a net pre- 
 pared for him, where he least expected it in 
 the person of the Lady Anne Erresford. She
 
 112 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 passed while he was in the church, letting a 
 shadow fall over the graves, as she went on to 
 the cottagers, with a bag of tracts on her 
 arm, well got up, insinuating little pamphlets, 
 large print and pictures, and strange sounding 
 titles among them, showing the cottagers 
 easy ways of salvation. There was the Bap- 
 tismal way, the Confirmation way, the Altar 
 way, the Priests' way, and the Churches way, 
 but not a word about Christ's way on any 
 line or page, except as a way subordinate to 
 the other ways. No Bible lay in the bag 
 among the well got up little books. Our 
 dear sister ! does not approve of the laity 
 having the Bible, she thinks they go on best 
 without it ; and she convinces a good many of 
 her * sister's' people of this, though it may 
 appear strange ; because her ' sister's people' 
 were put in prison, tortm'ed and burnt for the 
 Bible's sake ; but that is a long time ago, and 
 martyrs are not the fashion just now, it does 
 not improve the nerves and senses of the nine- 
 teenth century to read ' Fox,' and see pictures 
 of flaming piles, and biu^ning oil, and thumb- 
 screws. Such things are so entirely out of date, 
 how can we be so vulgar as to mention them !
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 113 
 
 So Lady Anne threw her shadow on the 
 white snow, and passed the church before 
 Robert came out, and picking up his carpet 
 bag, made his way to the Manor House. 
 November was not quite finished, and yet 
 last night some snow had fallen, pretty 
 heavily too, and settled among the branches 
 and on the few sear and withered leaves, 
 winter had not yet fetched away, and on 
 the hedges and the turnip fields, and the high 
 road where Lady Anne Erresford had taken 
 her shadow about ten minutes before to the 
 village. The sky was leaden and heavy all 
 round, except towards the west, where the sun 
 red andglaring was strugghng to be seen, 
 and shedding tears about it, in the shape of 
 little golden streaks below. It was just three, 
 the clock up in the tower of Saint Walburga 
 said so, and the clock over the Squire's 
 stables confirmed it, and aU the vrind there 
 was in the leaden air brought three chimes 
 from Castle St. Agnes ; Robert paused a 
 moment to listen to their sounds, and to con- 
 sult his Avatch, and that too told the same tale ; 
 he was just resuming his walk, when first 
 the sounds of footsteps, and then a laugh,
 
 114 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 reached his ear, he stopped again and Hstened ; 
 but all was silence except the dull sighing of 
 the air, a tort of steady, discontented sound, 
 which is usually the forerunner of snow, so he 
 thought it must be some village children in 
 the turnip fields near at hand, or some shep- 
 herd boys minding their sheep on the hill-side ; 
 but it was neither of these, the voices were 
 those of his dear playfellows Maude and Lucy 
 Neville, and they sprang out upon him from 
 behind a pile of furze and peat w^hich some- 
 one had heaped up by the way-side. Oh ! 
 what a meeting that was ! — it is difficult to 
 say who said the most '' how do you do's !" 
 and who shook hands the warmest, except 
 that, as usual, Lucy was the quietest, and 
 Maude actually danced round and round 
 Robert, so that he was obliged to stand 
 still 
 
 " Oh you dear old Robert !" said Maude 
 after she had made about six pirouettes and 
 stopped fairly out of breath ; " we saw yon 
 outside the coach, looking like a dear oM 
 icicle perched up there — yes ! we saw you, 
 though you did not see us, did he Lu ? yes, 
 we saw you from the the top of Bushman's
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 115 
 
 Hill ; . we frightened away all the sheep in 
 climbing up, and sent them down into Raven's 
 Hollow, that we might be the first to see 
 you." 
 
 Robert took off his hat, and laughing, said 
 he felt very flattered, and Lucy laughed too, 
 but she did not say anything. 
 
 " Come along, children, don't stand here ; I 
 declare we shall all freeze into snow men and 
 women, if we don't move ; come along, I am 
 going to carry this for you, Robert ;" and 
 Maude made a dart at his carpet-bag, and 
 fairly took it from him. 
 
 " No, now Maude, you shall not carry it, I 
 declare this is too bad !" and Robert endea- 
 voured to regain his property. 
 
 But Maude darted off full speed, and few 
 could equal her in running, so it was not till 
 she reached the Manor gates that Robert over- 
 took her, then what she called " a little 
 fight " ensued, which ended in Robert's con- 
 quering. Lady Anne's shadow was crossing 
 the path which led from the village to the 
 Castle, and she saw the whole scene; the 
 meeting, Maude's demonstrative welcome.
 
 116 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 her seizure of the bag, the run, the figbt, and 
 the capture — Lady Anne did not sigh ; but she 
 spoiled her handsome face by frowning, and 
 said almost aloud ; " What a choice for 
 Cecil to make, and what a priest for Forsted !" 
 but no one heard her, not even Lucy, who, 
 after attempting to keep up with the runners, 
 was forced to abandon the attempt for want 
 of breath, and walked on slowly, laughing, 
 and enjoying Maude's merriment. Lady 
 Anne's shadow almost fell on her, but it did 
 not quite, she escaped it this time, though it 
 often feU on her afterwards. 
 
 Robert and Maude came back to meet 
 Lucy, Maude told her sister she was van- 
 quished, and Lucy laughed and said it served 
 her right for teasing poor Robert directly he 
 came. This was an old trick of Maude's, 
 Robert was scrupulously pohte, he could not 
 bear ladies to carry even their own parasols 
 after the sun was down, and it was Maude's 
 delight to attack all his parcels and umbrellas, 
 and attempt to carry them herself to shock 
 Robert's gallantry. 
 
 " Come, Maude, do be reasonable," said
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 117 
 
 Robert, as he made Lucy take his arm — they 
 used to walk hand in hand, formerly ; but 
 Lucy was no longer a little girl. 
 
 " So I am, Robert, very reasonable," replied 
 Maude saucily, " what do you wish me to talk 
 about?" 
 
 " I want you to tell me how you like 
 Cecil Erresford and his sisters, and Lady De 
 Walden." 
 
 " Oh ! your cher ami is a model young man ! 
 all heart and goodness, never did a wrong 
 thing in his life, was the best child in the 
 nursery, best boy at school, best man at 
 college, and at the age of thirty — is he 
 not somewhere thereabouts? — has succeeded 
 in being that great bore to naughty people — 
 a model !" 
 
 " Come Maude, do not be so satirical !" 
 said Robert, "what do you think of him, 
 Lucy ?" 
 
 "I like him very much indeed," she 
 replied. 
 
 Robert gave a quick glance at Lucy, as 
 she spoke and asked, " What do you like in 
 him?" 
 
 " I scarcely know, but I think I like every-
 
 lis LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 thing, he is so kind, so gentle, and yet so 
 amusing, I think he must be everybody's 
 favourite." 
 
 " So he is," rephed Robert, " and I am sure 
 he is your's already, Lucy." 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy quietly, while Maude ex- 
 claimed in a teasing, laughing tone, " darling, 
 don't you see Robert is jealous ?" 
 
 " No, he is not, Maude," replied Lucy, 
 without even blushing ; " I am sure Robert is 
 glad we like his friend." 
 
 " Of course I am, little Lu," and Robert 
 gently dropping her arm, threw open the 
 Manor gates — when they were walking on 
 again, Maude asked in an arch tone, " Now 
 you have had our opinion of Mr. Erresford, do 
 you not want to know what we think of his 
 sisters ?" 
 
 " Not if you are going to quizz them as you 
 did him." 
 
 " Nonsense, Robert, I did not quizz him ; 
 but if you are in love with either of his sisters, 
 I will let them alone." 
 
 " Indeed, that I am not," said Robert, 
 rather indignantly, 
 
 " Well then ; Lady Anne is a stem, dicta-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 119 
 
 torial personage, would make a model nun, 
 the only thing she is fit for, and Lady Flora 
 is a silly, Aveak girl, very amiable, and dread- 
 fully trampled upon." 
 
 " How quick you are, Maude !" said 
 Robert, turning to her with rather an ad- 
 miring look ; " you always were clever in 
 reading characters, yon have described Lady 
 Anne capitally — not that she ever dictates to 
 me ; but you are too hard on poor Flora, I do 
 not think she is ' weak and silly,' though she 
 might have become both, from the manner in 
 which she has been brought up — her brother 
 is quite indignant when he even mentions 
 it. 
 
 " Did not her mamma like her ?" asked 
 Lucy. 
 
 "No, Lucy, no one did that I can dis- 
 cover." 
 
 " Not Mr. Erresford ?" asked Lucy again. 
 
 *' Oh, yes ! but he was scarcely ever with 
 her, he lived almost entirely with an uncle, 
 till she was grown up, and then poor Lady 
 Flora was so much in dread of her whole 
 family, that she actually feared him." 
 
 "Do you know, I was afraid of Mr. Eitcs-
 
 120 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 ford at first; but not after he had spoken to 
 me," said Lucy. 
 
 Again Robert's enquiring look ; but the 
 face he gazed at looked calm as usual. 
 
 " Is not Lady Plora going to be married ?" 
 asked Maude. 
 
 " Yes, but who told you ?" 
 
 " No one, only she wears a blue ring on her 
 left hand, just as Aunt Augusta did two years 
 ago, when she was engaged to be married to 
 some one who did not have her — but who is 
 Lady Flora going to marry ?" 
 
 " Lord Glendowan, a man old enough to be 
 her father." 
 
 " Oh, poor thing !" said Lucy, in a sym- 
 pathising tone. 
 
 "Does she like him?" enquired Maude. 
 
 " What a strange question to ask !" ob- 
 served her sister. 
 
 "Does she, Robert?" repeated Maude. 
 
 "As well as she likes any one," replied 
 Robert. 
 
 " She has taken a fancy to darling Lu, and 
 wants her likeness," said Maude. 
 
 " Nonsense, dear !" exclaimed Lucy. 
 
 " But it is sense, darling, only no one was
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 121 
 
 to have known it but ourselves ; but Robert 
 can keep a secret." 
 
 " Of course I can/' said Robert, laughing ; 
 " but have they returned your call ?" 
 
 "Yes, they came on Monday, that is to 
 say, Lady de Walden and starchy Anne. One 
 comfort, papa was at home, so he talked to the 
 old lady ; starchy Anne was in a fearfully cold 
 mood — she sat and looked at me, so I sat and 
 looked at her — Lu. did not see them ; she was 
 out in the shrubberies, and did not know 
 they were come." 
 
 '' Then you have not seen Lady Flora since 
 your visit?" 
 
 " No, she called alone, on the Saturday 
 before. Papa was at the Branston hunt, and 
 we were passing the day with old Lady Fair- 
 field, such a tax on one's patience ! but here 
 we are !" 
 
 They had arrived at the door of the 
 Manor House. Robert let them in as if he 
 were quite at home ; the Squire had been the 
 only real friend his father had, and all the 
 Aylmers had had the run of the jNlanor from 
 their childhood, so it was not to be wandered 
 at that the young people were on such 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 familiar terms. The toothless hound slept on 
 the door-mat as usual ; but it got up and 
 fawned on Robert as he came in, and licked 
 his hand. He stroked it very gently, saying, 
 " Poor Tawny !" and the tears stood in his 
 eyes, for it was his father's favourite dog, and 
 almost the only thing he had in his power to 
 bequeath to the Squire. Lucy knew of what 
 Robert w^as thinking, and she drew Maude 
 away to the hall table. Their father was 
 from home, they had told Robert so directly 
 they met him ; and the Squire had left a note 
 for Robert in his large, scrawling hand, which 
 the girls gave him when he came up to 
 them at the table. The Squire told of a 
 pressing hunt, how it was as much as his 
 head was worth, if he did not go — he hoped 
 Robert would take care of himself : Morris 
 would give him the keys of the cellars, and 
 he was to choose what wines he Hked ; and 
 the girls would be ready, he was sure, to 
 "keep up the spirits of the young parson" 
 till the squire returned, " till then, make your- 
 self jolly. Yours, Phil. Neville." 
 
 " We had your old room prepared for 
 you, Robert," said Maude, after he had
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 123 
 
 finished reading the letter, " but the rain 
 came in so dreadfully, that we were obliged 
 to have the things moved to the picture room. 
 We hope you will not mind, but papa does not 
 like having bricklayers in : he says they will 
 pull the whole house do\vn. It is one of 
 papa's little prejudices," she added, smiling, 
 " but we tliink you wiU like your new 
 abode." 
 
 " Certainly I shall, dear Maude, it is suf- 
 ficient to be in this house to be happy." 
 
 Here Morris, the portly old butler, who had 
 come in on the opening of the haU door, and 
 was greatly shocked at Miss Neville's exposure 
 of their poverty, thought fit to make his 
 presence known, and bomng to Mr. Aylmer, 
 asked if he had any luggage, and if it should 
 be taken to his room. 
 
 *' Good morning, Morris ; no, I have not 
 any luggage, only this bag ; you can take it 
 up, if you please." 
 
 Morris did so, and looked to see if Robert 
 were following. 
 
 "We have ordered the dinner at four, 
 Robert ; we would not Jiave it later," said 
 Maude, " because we thought you would be 
 
 G 2
 
 124 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 hungry." Maude never spoke of herself alone, 
 but always said "we." 
 
 " Thank you, Maude, my coach -ride has 
 sharpened my appetite. Twenty minutes to 
 four ! I will not keep you waiting." He 
 followed the important butler, who stop- 
 ped at the door of the same room he used to 
 occupy, the one Maude said was rendered 
 useless by the rain. 
 
 " Not that room, I think, Morris," he ex- 
 claimed, as the servant opened the door and 
 visions of a bright fire gleamed forth. 
 
 " Yes, if you please, Sir," and Morris went 
 in with the carpet-bag. 
 
 " But," said Robert, to whom distant 
 prospects of being awoke by an inundation 
 from the ceiling, were not agreeable ; '* I 
 thought Miss Neville said — " 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Sir, but that's been 
 seen to : a trifling hole in the leads was the 
 cause. Sir; it has been rectified, and you 
 will find no inconvenience. Sir. Young ladies 
 always make the most of things — anything 
 you want, Sir ?" 
 
 Robert wanted nothing, so Morris took 
 himself down stairs to tell his friend, the
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 1^5 
 
 cook, " how Miss Neville could never hold her 
 tongue about nothing V 
 
 Robert gazed from the Avindow, and looked 
 far away into the valley, filling fast with mist 
 and snow-flakes. 
 
 Maude and Lucy went straight up to their 
 green draperied room, and put on some silk 
 dresses, to look ' smart ' for Robert's first 
 evening with them. They talked and laughed 
 all the time they were arranging their toilette. 
 
 Robert could hear their bright young 
 voices at his end of the house ; and when he 
 came into the drawing-room and found them 
 sitting by the fire, Maude with an arm over 
 Lucy, he was charmed with their loveliness. 
 Robert took the Squire's place at the dinner- 
 table, opposite a great sirloin of beef. Maude, 
 who was learning to carve, made a great 
 splashing of a pair of fowls, to the no small 
 discomforture of Morris, who was perpetually 
 receiving gravy in his face. Maude's favourite 
 dinner was roast-beef and fowls, and she even 
 to-day, anticipated Christmas by adding plum- 
 pudding, though without its usual adornment 
 of evergreen. They talked and laughed more 
 gaily over their dinner than Lady Anne
 
 126 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Erresford had done in a life- time ; laughter 
 not agreeing with her temperament. It 
 must be confessed some of the merriment was 
 at her ladyship's expense, for during Morris's 
 exit, Maude jumped up to imitate Lady 
 Anne's bow, and Lady Anne's walk, and 
 everything the giddy girl had remarked in 
 ' Starchy Anne,' as they had christened her 
 among themselves. 
 
 After dinner, they all sat round the draw- 
 ing-room fire, talking of Forsted, and plan- 
 ning what Robert was to do, and they 
 arranged excursions for the coming year — 
 then Robert asked the girls to sing, and they 
 gave him all his favourite songs ; ' Auld 
 Robin Grey,' ' Partant pour la Syrie,' and 
 many others from their mother's old book. 
 But, last of all, Lucy sung ' All that's bright 
 must fade :' she had learnt it by heart from 
 her Aunt Augusta's music. It was not 
 strange that when she had finished, Maude 
 and Robert sighed, because the song is a 
 triste one. Maude said she liked it, and yet 
 she did not : it was pretty, but too solemn for 
 her, and she made Lucy come away from the 
 piano and take her old seat by the fire, and
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 127 
 
 then they fell again into their former conver- 
 sation about the future, what they would do 
 when they grew old, and what they would 
 do when so many years had rolled over their 
 heads. There was plenty of merriment in some 
 of their plans — at last, Maude said, " In five 
 years more I shall be two- and- twenty, and you 
 wiU be just of age, darHng Lu. I wonder 
 what we shall all be doing, exactly this day 
 five years ? — perhaps I shall be sitting by 
 this very old chimney corner, embroidering 
 Christmas slippers for papa ; and you, darling, 
 why, you will be married long before that, 
 I know ; you are such a darling, everybody 
 will be wanting you !" 
 
 "Oh, don't Maude, dear!" said Lucy, 
 blushing. 
 
 " You have not asked me what I should 
 like to be doing this day five years ?" said 
 Robert. 
 
 " Well, Robert ?" asked Maude. 
 
 " Why, sitting by the Vicarage fire, with 
 my wife," he replied.
 
 128 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Yet even in youth companionless I stood 
 As a lone forest bird midst ocean's foam. 
 
 HEMANS. 
 
 Up a great many flights of stairs at the very 
 top of a side- wing of the Castle, unapproach- 
 able from the other passages and landings, and 
 reached only by its oAvn turreted staircase, 
 was a wide lofty room — a bow window at one 
 end, and three windows at the side, large 
 spacious windows, seeming placed there pur- 
 posely to invite the light which came pouring 
 in ; and what did the light reveal ? A collection 
 of the queerest, quaintest furniture that ever 
 was seen ; such a melange of ancient tables and 
 venerable chairs, that at first sight it seemed 
 like stepping into an old curiosity shop. 
 Perhaps the most remarkable antiquities were
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 129 
 
 the tapestried window curtains, whose colours 
 had so faded and blended one with the other, 
 that the only objects discernible out of a large 
 scripture piece, were a gigantic Pharoah's 
 daughter, her head nearly touching the ceiling, 
 while her feet dangled on the ground, and a 
 yellow little Moses in a crimson ark of bul- 
 rushes. Beneath these wonderful curtains, 
 stood a dark oak table, dim and unpolished and 
 supported by four grim lions, rendered more 
 grim-looking, perhaps, from the loss of all the 
 prominent features of their countenances ; 
 one being bereft of a nose, another of a cheek, 
 and so on : it was a marvel how the heavy 
 table got up those narrow stairs, if it was 
 raised by pulleys, no wonder the grim hons 
 suffered in the affray. Quainter still was an 
 old sideboard, also under guardianship of the 
 feline tribe ; and yet more quaint were number- 
 less old chairs, so infirm, so moth-eaten, and so 
 unique, that, take each one separately, and it 
 was a study in itself. And curious too was the 
 wide fire-place, where wood burnt upon dogs, 
 burnt, and smouldered, and charred, and yet 
 the room was never warm, so a small stove had 
 been placed in a recess, and from thence the 
 
 G 3
 
 130 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 heat came on the frosty morning when Lady 
 Flora Erresford spread out her painting 
 materials above the mutilated lions. 
 
 There was a variety of little cups, and a 
 variety of little jars, filled with divers colours, 
 and divers pieces of cardboard, paper, pencils, 
 and rulers, in short, everything requisite for 
 the delicate process of likeness taking ; every- 
 thing, even to the face to be taken — the quiet, 
 happy face of Lucy, who sat before her in a 
 carved high-backed chair, her bonnet and 
 shawl off, her hands crossed on her lap, and 
 her smooth, fair hair shining in a bright sun- 
 beam that strayed into the room on purpose 
 to make Lucy a crown. 
 
 Lucy tried to keep her face composed, 
 though romping, laughing Maude, who hung 
 over the back of her chair, almost made her 
 break forth into a mirth that would have 
 spoiled Lady Flora's touches. Lady Flora 
 went to work earnestly and nervously, with her 
 old persuasion that she should not succeed, 
 though longing to do so ; and in this she was 
 not changed since her childhood. It was a 
 great pleasure to her to make a sketch of Lucy's 
 winning face, in which, though Lady Flora
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 131 
 
 did not know it, the beauty rested entirely in 
 the innocence and repose of the expression, 
 and not in the correctness and perfection of 
 feature. 
 
 " Miss Neville, would you mind moving 
 from the back of your sister's chair ; you cast 
 rather a shade?" said Lady Flora. 
 
 Maude danced round to Mora's side. " That 
 looks as if it meant to be like Lucy, you have 
 just the wave in the hair — will it take long to 
 finish?" 
 
 " Yes, some time," Flora answered. " I 
 intend to try a pencil sketch, and if it succeeds, 
 to make a painting of it to hang up in my 
 room." 
 
 " Are you going to make a patron saint of 
 Lucy ?" asked Maude laughing. 
 
 Lady Flora smiled ; "I shall place it where 
 I can often see it." 
 
 "Do you keep a portfolio?" asked Maude. 
 
 " Yes, just a few sketches ; you will find 
 them in the chiffonier — ^they are not worth 
 looking at ; but, perhaps, you will take them 
 to another table, there are so many shadows 
 to-day." 
 
 Maude opened the great chiffonier, and
 
 132 
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 dragged out a large portfolio. She sat on the 
 floor near the table, and resting it half against 
 a chair, and partly against her lap, commenced 
 turning over the pictures which were all care- 
 fully covered with tissue paper, and neatly 
 mounted, which Lady Mora said was her own 
 doing. 
 
 The few first were large water-colour 
 sketches of the neighbourhood of her solitary 
 home in Essex. Then came some figure draw- 
 ings of French peasantry, all showing exquisite 
 taste and colouring ; after these, there were 
 several little drawings wrapped up in paper, 
 and marked " miscellaneous. " Maude asked 
 if she might open them, and Flora replying in 
 the affirmative, Maude ranged them one by 
 one on a chair before her. 
 
 The first was inscribed " My brother. " It 
 was not Cecil Erresford, but a handsome, 
 invalided-looking young man, with weary eyes 
 and a sad brow, but passive and gentle, and 
 pleasing to contemplate. Maude held this in 
 her hand a long time, easily guessing it was 
 the young Earl. Another which charmed 
 Maude excessively, was a beautiful, gentle- 
 looking woman, with love and sunshine in the
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 133 
 
 face ; yet it was not young, and the liair was 
 tinged with silver, and a few Hnes strayed 
 about the soft mouth — round the margin. 
 Maude read traced in a dehcate hand, " Drawn 
 in a bitter hour of neglect, as an ideal of what 
 I thought my mother to be." 
 
 A companion to this, was a brilliant, beaute- 
 ous girl, with long, long, glossy hair, and a 
 face like an angel — so lovely, that Maude in- 
 voluntarily kissed it. She saw written under- 
 neath — " My sister, as she appeared to me in 
 a dream " — but how different was the Lady 
 Anne from this ! Mau le wrapped it up very 
 carefully, but it fascinated her so much that 
 she was obliged to take it out again and again, 
 before she closed the portfolio ; but there was 
 more to see yet — two angels, fair and winged, 
 mounting up to the skies, where some cherubs 
 were looking down on them. 
 
 Maude thought, what an elegant mind 
 Lady Mora must have to originate such things ! 
 Last of all came a paper marked, " Sketches 
 of a crowd " — and they were very amusing ; 
 there were men and women — girls and boys — 
 beggars and soldiers — tumblers — policemen — 
 gentlemen — in short, a melange of character
 
 184 LUCY AYLMER. * 
 
 very cleverly pourtrayed. Maude was deeply 
 engrossed in these, and Lady Flora was pro- 
 gressing successfully in her work — when a 
 sudden exclamation from Maude caused an 
 uneven line down her drawing — it was a loud 
 ejaculation of " Oh, here is Uncle Archer T' 
 
 Of course, Lady Flora turned round, and 
 so did Lucy, almost expecting to see her uncle 
 before her ; but instead, Maude held up a small 
 picture, and called out again, " actually it is 
 Uncle Archer ! Lady Flora, I did not know 
 you were acquainted wdth him ?" 
 
 The colour mounted to Lady Flora's cheeks 
 as she said hurridly, " Is that like your uncle ? 
 It is a sketch I took from a window when I 
 was looking at the Lord Mayor's Show last 
 year. A gentleman stood a long time in the 
 street below among the crowd. I brought him 
 in among my sketches, but I assure you, I 
 had no idea who it was." 
 
 " Then it was Uncle Archer," replied Maude, 
 twirling the drawing in her fingers, and look- 
 ing in surprise at Lady Flora's frightened, 
 troubled expression. 
 
 " I stretched it among the others, and 
 coloured it afterwards," repeated Lady Flora,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 135 
 
 as with the utmost patience she removed the 
 disfiguring mark from the card-board before 
 her. 
 
 Lucy looked very much as if she should 
 like to get up and see the picture Maude was 
 holding to the light ; but on no account would 
 she disoblige Lady Flora, so she sat still, in 
 the same position. 
 
 " How very odd !" exclaimed Maude, as 
 she brought the likeness, and laid it on Lucy's 
 lap, " now darling, is not that the very image 
 of Uncle Archer? I wish papa could see it." 
 
 " I would rather not," said Lady Flora, 
 hurriedly, " no one knows I have taken these 
 sketches, and I do not wish any one besides 
 you to see them." 
 
 " What a pity !" remarked Maude, " they 
 are so amusing and clever, I am sure every one 
 would like them." 
 
 " Oh, nobody ever likes anything I do !" 
 was Lady Flora's short reply. 
 
 "That must be fancy. Lady Flora," said 
 Maude laughing. 
 
 " I msh it were," she answered gloomily ; 
 " but you, who have been always loved and 
 encouraged, cannot possibly understand my
 
 136 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 feelings. You do not know what it is to be 
 found fault with by the ones you looked to 
 for approbation !" Lady Flora sighed deeply, 
 then looking up at Lucy, to catch the ex- 
 pression of her mouth, she saw a gentle 
 glance of surprise, w^iich made her feel 
 ashamed of the betrayal she had made of her 
 sorrowful, bitter thoughts. She gazed intently 
 at her picture for a moment, then, as if on 
 second thought, she raised her eyes with a 
 smile that gave a touching, pleading expres- 
 sion to her face — it was a smile such as that 
 which had first captivated Lord Glendowan. 
 " I dare say you think me very silly,'"' Lady 
 Flora said. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I do not," Maude replied, " only 
 I am sorry if you are unhappy." 
 
 " I am not unhappy, at least I ought not to 
 be, but I shall never be like other girls, I 
 feel that — " she paused a moment, then 
 added, " I wish I were you, Lucy." 
 
 " Do you ?" said Lucy smiling. 
 
 " Oh, yes — very much ! I wished this, 
 directly I saw you. I should think your life 
 has always been very bright and smooth, has 
 it not, Lucy ?"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 137 
 
 Lucy looked a little sui'prised, as she re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Yes Lady Flora, I have always been very 
 happy." 
 
 " I wish," said Lady Flora, " that you 
 would let me spend the morning with you ; 
 some day when your papa is out, and you are 
 quite alone, then I could bring my pencils 
 with me, and go on with the sketch." 
 
 " We should enjoy it very much, indeed," 
 said Lucy, and Maude added, " we should 
 have asked you ourselves, only we did not 
 know if you would like to come." 
 
 "Yes, I should," Lady Flora answered, her 
 face brightening ; but I will not keep you 
 sitting any longer, Lucy. I am sure you must 
 be tired." 
 
 Lucy was not tired, she would sit longer if 
 Lady Flora pleased ; but Lady Flora did not 
 wish it, and Lucy rose, and looked at the first 
 likeness of herself. Of course it was quite in a 
 rough state yet, but there appeared every 
 promise of its becoming a successful picture. 
 
 " How clever you are. Lady Flora !" ex- 
 claimed Maude, who was looking over her
 
 ]38 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 sister's shoulder. " I shall be so pleased if it 
 turns out like Lucy." 
 
 "And so shall I," replied Lady Flora, 
 thoughtfully, as she held up her hour's work 
 before her, and seemed for some moments 
 quite absorbed in its contemplation. Lucy 
 was tying on her bonnet, when Flora gave a 
 deep sigh, and then turning round, she said, 
 " You must not go yet : it is just luncheon 
 time ; I insist on your staying ; besides. 
 Mamma will think me inhospitable if I allow 
 you to go." 
 
 "It is very kind of you, but we must," 
 said Lucy. " Papa is to drive us to Arminster, 
 to see a menagerie : we dine quite early, and 
 start directly after ; so indeed. Lady Flora, we 
 cannot remain any longer." 
 
 " Robert is goinsj with us !" exclaimed 
 Maude, joyfully. " I wish you were coming 
 also — we ahall be such a merry party ! We go 
 in the dog-cart, Lu and I in front with papa, 
 and Robert behind with James : we should 
 not want James, only for putting up." 
 
 "Then you return to-night?" enquired 
 Lady Flora.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 139 
 
 "Oh, yes ! papa thinks nothing of twenty- 
 miles." 
 
 " But you will be cold in the evening," and 
 Lady Flora shivered at the mere idea of the 
 long drive in the cold moonhght, along the 
 snowy hills and valleys between Arminster 
 and Worsted St. Agnes. 
 
 "We never think of the weather," said 
 Maude, fastening on her shawl, " Papa tells 
 every one Lucy and I are as hardy as Shet- 
 land ponies. We never think of such tiresome 
 things as colds, do we, sweet ?" 
 
 " Oh, no !" rephed Lucy, and she looked 
 at the clear, bright colour in her sister's 
 cheeks. 
 
 " If you must really go, may I walk home 
 with you ?" asked Lady Mora. 
 
 " It will be quite a treat, if you will," re- 
 plied Mande, while Lucy smiled an echo of 
 her sister's words. 
 
 Lady Flora left all her colours and draw- 
 ings just as they were, assisted Lucy with her 
 cloak ; and then, going out after the two 
 girls, she locked the door of her room, and 
 put the key in her pocket. They all de- 
 scended the narrow staircase together ; no one
 
 140 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 was in the hall, and Lady Mora went into a 
 little room, full of garden costumes, straw 
 hats, over-shoes, &c. ; and putting on a thick 
 cloak, with a fur border, and an old bonnet, 
 they set forth for the Manor. 
 
 It was a gusty, uncertain looking morning 
 — patches of clouds, patches of sunbeam in 
 the sky, and patches of thaw and patches of 
 snow in the fields and park, and on the bam 
 tops and trees, where shivering, perishing little 
 sparrows shook their feathers with a drooping 
 air, and dozed and dreamt delusively of the dog- 
 days. The three girls walked on very fast — 
 How different they were one from the other ! 
 Maude so blithe and gay, Lucy so untroubled 
 and happy, and Lady Flora so sad and weary 
 of all round — and yet three gentler hearts 
 seldom throbbed side by side, only the world 
 had gone hardly with the elder, while the 
 two younger had been v.isited by its smiles 
 alone. 
 
 " Do you go out into society yet ?" asked 
 Lady Flora, when they had nearly anived at 
 the Manor. 
 
 " No, not to large parties," replied Maude ; 
 " but papa says we must soon. I quite dread
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 141 
 
 his dinners, they must be such formidable 
 things — I hope I shall know how to behave. 
 Lucy will, because she is such a steady, 
 proper little thing ; but I am afraid I should 
 laugh when I ought not : it is a habit of mine 
 — Robert calls me ' mirthful Maude/ " 
 
 " And what does he call your sister ?" 
 
 " In days gone by, it used to be his ' little 
 wife ;' but that was when she was a child. I 
 do not think he gives her any name now, 
 except 'little Lu,' or when he is very loving, 
 he calls her ' Lucy -bird :' he has learnt that 
 from papa." 
 
 " I think Lucy is a great pet, are you not, 
 dear?" and Lady Flora turned towards her 
 with a look of loving interest. 
 
 But J\Iaude did not leave her sister an op- 
 portunity of answering : " Oh, Lucy is a 
 completely spoilt child I" she said laughing. 
 " Papa spoils her, and Robert spoils her, and 
 so do I and every one ; it is a part of our 
 daily business to spoil Lucy." 
 
 Flora sighed ; it had never been any one's 
 delight to spoil her — how different her youth 
 from Lucy's ! " I wish you were both coming
 
 142 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 to town this spring. Do you think there is 
 any chance of it ?" 
 
 " Oh, no !" repHed Maude, " Papa would 
 not allow us to go. Our Aunt in London 
 often threatens to take us back with her when 
 she stays here ; for she says our education is 
 very incomplete, and we want to see a little of 
 the world." 
 
 " Should you not like it ?" asked Flora. 
 
 " I have not made up my mind yet," re- 
 plied Maude. " I should certainly like to see 
 London, but I doubt if I should want to 
 remain there very long. I fancy it must be so 
 formal and disagreeable, always walking in 
 the streets." 
 
 Lady Flora smiled. " You would not walk 
 much in the streets — ^ladies never do." 
 
 " Then where do people go ?" asked 
 Maude. 
 
 " In the streets sometimes, but more often 
 in the parks ; and ladies seldom walk in the 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Why not ?" enquired Maude, again. 
 
 "I do not know; because it is not the 
 custom, I suppose." They were now very close
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 143 
 
 to the Manor gates, and Lady Flora said, 
 " Would you like to visit London, Lucy ?" 
 
 " I would rather remain here, Lady Mora. 
 I do not think I should like the bustle and 
 noise ; but," she added, " I wish I could sing 
 as Aunt Augusta does ; and I should like to 
 hear the beautiful music Lady Anne talked 
 about." 
 
 " Then you must come to town," said Lady 
 Flora, cheerfully, " for it is only there you can 
 hear the oratorios my sister spoke of, and the 
 beautiful church music." 
 
 Lucy smiled and said, she thought it was 
 improbable, and then Maude stopped at the 
 gates and exclaimed, " Here we are, you must 
 come in, Lady Flora !" 
 
 " No, I must hurry back. I shall think of 
 you to-night. Take care of your sister." She 
 looked so fixedly at Lucy as to make her 
 blush ; then she kissed them both, and stood 
 watching them as they went towards the 
 house. The north wind whistled round her 
 with, a cold, derisive sound ; but she did not 
 heed it, for her eyes found a new and dehght- 
 ful pleasure in watching those loving sisters.
 
 144 LUCY AILMEK. 
 
 She looked them out of sight ; but still she 
 remained there, with her cloak wrapped closely 
 round her slight, bending form. The lofty 
 trees sighing over her and pitying her, 
 seemed to say, " Plora, poor Mora !" — they 
 sighed and sighed, and dropped snowy tears 
 on her cloak, great tears which melted and fell 
 off to the earth in their great pity for the sad, 
 dreary figure which stood beneath them; 
 and their low murmurs seemed to say, " ah 
 me ! ah me 1" 
 
 " Flora ! Mora !" this was not the wind's 
 sigh : a fine, beaming, fatherly face was near 
 hers — such a benevolent face ! very glad- 
 some, and radiant enough to melt the droop- 
 ing trees. 
 
 " You have been standing at least ten 
 minutes in this piercing wind, my Flora !" 
 and the voice was as benevolent as the face, 
 and the hand had a benevolent touch, which 
 took hers and laid it softly on his arm. The 
 old Earl was dead and gone long ago, and 
 slept in a fine mausoleum in the old church- 
 yard belonging to the place in Essex, or this 
 might have been her father, with his broad.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. ]45 
 
 powerful figure and handsome middle aged 
 countenance so smooth, so untroubled by 
 years. 
 
 " I did not know you would return so soon," 
 said Flora, shivering as he led her away. 
 
 " The ice was unbearable," he repKed, 
 " half snow and half thaw, all in little blocks. 
 How cold you are, dear Flora !" he added, as 
 he stopped, and unfolding a great plaid shawl 
 which hung over his arm — the plaid of his 
 clan — wrapped it round her, above the cloak. 
 She submitted very passively, and they walked 
 on with her arm again through his. 
 
 " You like Mr. Neville's daughters, I think. 
 Flora ?" 
 
 " More than T have cared for any girls 
 before," she replied, with a warmth unusual 
 to her. 
 
 "I am glad you have found friends, my 
 Flora !" he said. 
 
 " At last !" and she added, " I do not know 
 how long I may keep them." 
 
 The benevolent fatherly face looked at her. 
 
 " Dearest Flora, you must not go back into 
 your old, desponding moods." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " I could not help it, Lord Glendowan," 
 she replied. 
 
 " Still, Lord Glendowan, Flora !" he said in 
 a slightly reproachful tone. " Will you never 
 forget the difference of age ?" 
 
 "I do forget it — T forgot it directly you 
 bade me do so !" her tone was still despond- 
 ing. 
 
 " I think you love me ?" he said in the 
 same fatherly tone, that reminded her strongly 
 of M^hat the dead Earl ought to have been. 
 
 " You claimed my love, long ago," she re- 
 plied softly ; but there was no love or joy in 
 her voice. 
 
 "That was a bright day. Flora, when I 
 obtained your promise, and it will be a 
 brighter still which makes you all my own." 
 
 She did not answer, but the long fringes 
 drooped heavily, and the eyes were quite 
 hidden. 
 
 " Dearest Flora, something ails you !" Lord 
 Glendowan said, so tenderly, so caressingly. 
 
 "Nothing more than usual, Gordon," she 
 rephed, and she pronounced his name timidly, 
 perhaps reluctantly ; but it sounded music to
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 147 
 
 his ears. " I told you on that day," she con- 
 tinued, " that I had no joy to bring you, that 
 my hfe had passed heavily, and that its gloom 
 rests on me still — will ever rest on me." 
 
 "Will nothing ever dispel it, Flora?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Nothing, Lord Glendo^Yan, I told you all 
 on that first day. I concealed nothing — I told 
 you I would give ten thousand loves, even 
 such as yours, to win^back a day of my child- 
 hood, in which I could remember that my 
 mother smiled on me !" 
 
 " Dearest Flora," he said, " the Countess 
 is naturally stern and cold, though her heart 
 is good." 
 
 " She was never cold to Anne !" the voice 
 had a shrilling sadness which said this. 
 
 "Lady Anne is worthy and talented, but 
 she is not to be named in the same breath 
 with my drooping flower — dear Flora, cease 
 to envy her." 
 
 " I never did envy her ; oh ! I would rather 
 be myself, my neglected self, than my sister 
 Anne, except my mother's blessing !" her 
 voice trembled slightly. 
 
 " Your childhood has passed ; she will care 
 
 H 2
 
 148 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 for you now," said Lord Glendowan tenderly ; 
 " and think how admired and courted you were 
 on your first appearance !" 
 
 " And yet how desolate ! You often tell 
 me yours was a happy youth, and it has left 
 its impress on you now — mine was a desolate 
 childhood, and it has left the memory of its 
 desolation for ever fixed on my heart/' 
 
 "That dear, over-sensitive heart!" mur- 
 mured Lord Glendowan. 
 
 "If it had only been cold or indifferent, I 
 could have borne life better ; but, oh, Gor- 
 don ! it was torture to me that my mother 
 never blessed me, or my sister never twined 
 her arms around me, and the brother I could 
 have loved was set against me. But he loved 
 me in spite of all," she added, warmly; 
 " and he told me so at last, but the night I 
 knew it, he had a fit, and when it ceased, 
 they said he had lost his reason. Lord Glen- 
 dowan, I told you I never should be gay !" — 
 She tried to keep back her tears, but they 
 trembled on the long lashes. 
 
 "Dearest Mora," he said, "you shall be 
 what you please. If you are silent, even if you 
 heed me not, so long as you are near, I am
 
 LUCr AYLMER. 149 
 
 happy, but if you smile — oli, Flora, it is 
 heaven to me !" 
 
 *' I often wish, Gordon," she murmured, 
 in her soft, low tones, that " you had loved 
 some one else instead of me, some one who 
 would have been all to you, that I cannot be. 
 I am a snow-flake, not a sunbeam on your 
 path — on everybody's path — even those beau- 
 teous sisters are more silent when I am near.'' 
 
 " No — no. Flora, your imagination deceives 
 you — you undervalue your precious seK." He 
 looked for a smile ; she would have been un- 
 grateful had she not responded to his glance. 
 A smile brightened her face ; and shaking back 
 her head, she said with a sigh, "I am very 
 silly to make sorrows out of happiness." 
 
 " How so, dearest Flora?" 
 
 " I looked so long at those lovely sisters, 
 that I began to contrast myself with what they 
 are ; and instead of enjoying my friends, I was 
 making a grief of them — hush ! Gordon, you 
 must not chide me, when I seem strange, you 
 must remember my childhood !" 
 
 " No, Flora, no ; I will forget it, and you 
 shall forget it. * Look not mournfully into 
 the Past, it comes not back again. Wisely
 
 150 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 improve the Present, it is thine. Go forth to 
 meet the shadowy Future with a strong 
 heart/ " 
 
 She smiled again, as she said, "If 1 
 could ?" 
 
 " Everything is possible," he replied. 
 
 " But mine is not a strong heart," Flora 
 murmured. 
 
 " It is tender, true, and loving ; try, and 
 you will yet add strength to it !" 
 
 Flora smiled, but she did not try.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 151 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 His face was of that doubtful kind 
 That wins the eje, but not the mind. 
 
 ROKEBY. 
 
 It was thawing fast, that was very evident : 
 the streets were inches deep in mud and mire, 
 and so sHppery, that crossers were every 
 moment in danger of falling a prey to the 
 wheels of passing omnibuses, all bespattered 
 and begrimed with dirty snow ; while drip, 
 drip from the projecting eaves — drip, drip, 
 drip from the shop fronts, added to the rapid 
 increase of mud and discomfort. 
 
 " Get out of the way there !" shouted a 
 coachman, from a smart-looking brougham 
 turning out of the narrow Chancery Lane into 
 Holbom. The coachman had not at all a civil
 
 152 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 manner, or he would not have shouted so 
 rudely to a gentleman, for it was a gentleman 
 of dignified and benevolent mien, who drew 
 back to let the fiery horse dash by ; and as it 
 dashed on, a face looked through the window, 
 a massive, heavy face, with large handsome 
 features, and an expression anything but what 
 an expression ought to be, — it is easily defined. 
 — there was no good in it. It looked suspici- 
 ously, distrustingly out at the passers by ; and 
 the eyes, deep and artful, met the bright clear 
 eyes of the gentleman who was told to get out 
 of the way. The proprietor of the brougham 
 and the pedestrian, manfully combatting the 
 mud, were strangers to each other — entire 
 strangers, so they thought nothing more of 
 their flying look at the muddy corner of 
 Chancery Lane ; and each went his own way, 
 one to May-Fair, the other to St. Paul's, to hear 
 the morning service. The latter had an uncom- 
 mon predilection for music, not a Tractarian pre- 
 dilection ; but he loved music for its own sake, 
 because it pleased his ear, because it dehghted 
 his mind and tastes, and he was known as a 
 regular attendant at operas, oratorios ; indeed, 
 wherever music was to be heard. He seemed
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 153 
 
 also to have a predilection for walking, or he 
 never would have braved such a state of mud 
 and grime ; for, if his purse agreed with his 
 looks, he could afford a cab, or even his own 
 brougham, like the man with the eagle-eyes, 
 who had just passed ; but he liked walking, 
 as he did music, for its own sake ; indeed, he 
 3;vas rather eccentric, though his eccentricity 
 displayed itself in neither dress, air, nor manner, 
 as on he went down Holborn Hill to St. Paul's, 
 while on dashed the fiery horse, taking the 
 smart brougham, the impudent coachman, and 
 the proprietor with the eagle eyes, liearer and 
 nearer the polite regions of the west. 
 
 There were snow and mud and drippings in 
 May-Pair as well as in Holborn, only the 
 traffic was not so great ; fiery horse dashed 
 down one street into another, which looked 
 dismal and black; and the houses had a 
 gloomy, threatening aspect, and seemed frown- 
 ing at one another in the gloom. There were 
 crimson curtains in the drawing-room windows 
 of number thirteen ; and a handsome face, 
 with dark hair braided and rolled in massive 
 coils round her head, looked out from beneath 
 them ; and as it looked, it saw fiery horse stop 
 
 H 3
 
 154 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 suddenly before the door. The eagle eyes look- 
 ed up and met hers ; then the smart brougham 
 deposited its proprietor, who, after speaking 
 to the coachman, hurried up stairs and stood 
 on the hearth-rug by the bright fire. The 
 face at the window had retreated, and it rested 
 on a snowy hand and elbow, planted on the 
 low broad mantelpiece. 
 
 " Thank you for keeping me waiting !" this 
 was addressed to the eagle eyes. 
 
 " Not long, Augusta," he pulled out his 
 watch from a closely buttoned coat : he had a 
 short figure, too short for his massive face, and 
 but for the expression which portended no 
 good, he would have resembled Napoleon. 
 
 " Not long indeed !" one of the snowy 
 fingers with a great many jewels on it, 
 pointed to the hands. 
 
 " True, I am late," replied the quick active 
 voice. He had been detained on his way 
 from Chancery Lane. "My business was 
 urgent." He did not look at his sister, but 
 up, quite par hasard, at the mirror, and his 
 eyes met themselves looking at liim. Archer 
 Neville did not like to be looked at in that 
 keen, searching way, even by himself, and he
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 155 
 
 cast his eagle eyes towards the fire : they did 
 not gaze at hira there. 
 
 Augusta Neville rang the bell in a hasty, 
 Imperious manner, and desired the servant 
 who answered the summons, to bring a Brad- 
 shaw from the library. 
 
 "The next train, Archer, is at twelve 
 o'clock," she said, when slie had consulted the 
 time table. 
 
 " Let us go by that, by all means, if you 
 are ready," Archer answered. 
 
 " I am always ready," was the short reply. 
 
 The brother looked at her. 
 
 " It was not my fault that I kept you wait- 
 ins; : an hom* will make no difference." 
 
 "I am aware it will not," she replied ; "but 
 you know I detest waiting : it spoils my tem- 
 per. I cannot help it ; you have indulged me, 
 Archer, until I have become quite a spoilt 
 child." She withdrew her elbow from the 
 mantelpiece, hung down her hands and looked 
 at them ; they were beautiful, and she was 
 quite satisfied with them, — indeed, their con- 
 templation appeared to restore her temper. 
 " Come, Archer," she said, " you will find
 
 1*56 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 breakfast down stairs. I had mine long ago, 
 so I will get ready." 
 
 Her brother was musing over something. 
 What could it be ? He heard Augusta, how- 
 ever, and said, " Very well," and went down 
 stairs in a fit of abstraction, and still musing 
 on the something. 
 
 Augusta was accustomed to her brother's 
 absent moods ; so she heeded him not to-day, 
 but commenced the business of robing herself 
 in a handsome travelling cloak and furs, and 
 a very knowing little Paris bonnet, in which 
 employment she was assisted by a small 
 coquettish-looking French maid, who appeared 
 on Archer Neville's exit, and received final 
 directions from her mistress, that damsel never 
 accompanying the fair Augusta to the manorial 
 home. 
 
 Shortly before twelve, the fiery horse was 
 seen urging the smart brougham to the Great 
 Western Railway, and sending mud flying 
 in all directions on the pavement, to the great 
 detriment of passengers' coats. Augusta 
 Neville looked from the window and yawned 
 at the increasing mud and gloom, and re-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 157 
 
 marked on it now and then to Archer, who 
 looked very abstracted in a corner, under the 
 weight of the something that occupied him in 
 May-Fair. 
 
 "We shall not be too early," Augusta 
 obsen^ed, still looking out at the mud T\4th 
 a shghtly pitying feeling towards pedestrians 
 
 "Holloa !" shouted the coachman, " Holloa ! 
 you there, out of the way, can't you !" The 
 "you there," to get out of the way, was a 
 heavily laden waggon, slowly creeping on its 
 monotonous road towards Kilbum. The dri- 
 ver, however, paid no attention to the peremp- 
 tory shout, but continued doubled up on the 
 front seat, his elbows on his knees, and his great 
 whip dangling from his hand, while a boy of 
 some twelve or fourteen years, walked by the 
 side of the four sleek horses, and almost dozed 
 as he walked, so weary was he from his journey. 
 Another brougham was coming along with a 
 coronet on its pannels, and a pair of spirited 
 horses in its harness. The coachman was not 
 one whit behind Archer Neville's in impa- 
 tience, and on he whipped his steeds with the 
 fixed determination of passing the smart 
 brougham.
 
 158 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " What are you after there ?" shouted the 
 peremptory voice of Archer's servant, while 
 he swore at the fiery horse and lashed him 
 on. The street was narrow, the waggon broad : 
 fiery horse was fiery to an extreme, he hated 
 the whip, he rebelled under it. Snorting and 
 throwing up his proud head, he dashed on, right 
 on — and before the boy could turn the sleek 
 waggon-horses aside, the wheel of the smart 
 brougham became entangled in the wheel of 
 the waggon. Then did the coachman swear, 
 then did fiery horse kick and plunge, so that 
 no one durst approach him ; and the brougham 
 rocked as if each instant it would capsize, 
 and lie sideways in the mud. In one moment 
 Augusta Neville put all the windows down, 
 and leant back, her cheeks the least shade 
 paler ; but her dark eyes fixed on the pas- 
 sionate coachman. Why did Archer's eagle 
 eyes look so stern ? Why did such a deadly 
 pallor overspread his face ? Why did he call 
 upon the coachman to be quiet, to calm his 
 horse, to keep his command, and enforce 
 each sentence with oaths ? Did he fear being 
 dashed to death by an overturn ? Perhaps so ; 
 and would it have been better for any one he
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 159 
 
 had never seen, if he had been dashed to 
 death? The horses of the carriage behind 
 snorted and foamed with impatience, and 
 their heads almost rested against Archer 
 Neville's brougham. Augusta as she leant 
 back could hear their loud breathing. A 
 crowd collected instantly, but no one acted ; 
 thin meagre 'prentice boys looked on, and 
 would have helped if they had possessed 
 strength in their puny arms. Policemen 
 looked on, said a great deal, and did nothing 
 — stablemen looked on, and told the coach- 
 man what to do ; but never offered to assist 
 themselves — so the crowd was useless. Who 
 pushed a pale 'prentice boy, pushed aside a 
 policeman, rushed through the crowd, and 
 with giant force seized the foaming horse, 
 and with one herculean effort held him down ? 
 When once the horse was down, there were 
 plenty to come forward and keep him down ; 
 plenty to assist the enraged coachman from 
 his giddy seat; plenty to help detach the 
 wheel ; plenty to open the door, and let out 
 the pale, though self-possessed Augusta and 
 the infuriated Archer. The waggon moved on 
 and the brougham backed, and the coroneted
 
 160 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 carriage, with its splendid horses, darted 
 quickly by, and was seen no more by the 
 crowd. There was a cab hard by, a dirty, 
 sickly looking cab, with a rough patched 
 looking driver ; and into this Archer put the 
 dainty Augusta. His brougham had received 
 some damage, the waggon none. The policemen 
 would have liked the waggoner to pay damages, 
 but Archer was above such mean actions. His 
 own coachman, and his own horse, were to 
 blame, and none other — though if he had 
 wished it, an action could have easily been 
 brought against the waggoner, for he was only 
 a poor man ! The coachman swore at him 
 loudly, violently ; but as he Avas deaf, the 
 vile expletives had no effect on him, and after 
 awhile the waggon went on its way — and the 
 smart brougham went its way too, maimed 
 and disfigured, to the coach-builders, and 
 Archer soon after arrived at the Great 
 Western ; but they lost the twelve o'clock 
 train. Before Archer left the crowd, he en- 
 quired who first pulled down the horse's 
 head, and he learnt that it was a gentleman 
 from the brougham with the coronet who 
 drove away directly there was further assist-
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 161 
 
 ance. Augusta would have liked to thank 
 him, and so \YOuld her brother, for his life 
 was very precious to him ; but the carnage 
 had driven fast to the station, and the gentle- 
 man had gone somewhere on the Great 
 Western Hne, and it was not probable that 
 either Ausfusta or Archer would ever meet 
 
 o 
 
 him — why should they ? 
 
 It was growing dark when the brother and 
 sister leant back in a cushioned carriage, and 
 drawing a railway wrapper round them, gave 
 themselves up to the monotony of a journey 
 through the quickly gathering dusk of a 
 Christmas Eve. As long as there was any- 
 thing to see, Augusta saw it ; cottages, hay- 
 stacks, orchards, fields, woods indistinct in 
 the distance, backed and canopied with mist, 
 cold, grey and serpent-like, crawling and writh- 
 mg along hedges and ponds ; till aU was dark 
 and dim. But still Augusta looked; there 
 were Hghted stations, where passengers, muffled 
 in wraps, flitted to and fro with -joyous Christ- 
 mas faces ; mothers with countenances ex- 
 pressing that pride which only mothers can 
 wear, and which is beautiful to see ; fathers 
 with protecting faces, loving the whole group,
 
 162 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 wife and little ones, sheltering them, caring 
 for them — and forgetting themselves the 
 while. There were jolly farmers at cross- 
 country stations making themselves happy 
 second-class, and weather-beaten labourers 
 contented in the third. There were clerks 
 and factory -boys from the town stations, try- 
 ing to fancy there was no care on their brow, 
 trying to cheat themselves out of the idea 
 that they were grown thin and worn since 
 last Christmas log burnt on their mother's 
 hearth, because they were taking themselves, 
 and their little savings to that mother's 
 hearth once more, and they wish to gladden 
 her with Christmas looks. But who cared 
 for the clerks and factory-boys, save their 
 mother ? That was enough for them, and they 
 dozed in the comfortless third-class, and 
 dreamt of a warm fire-side and her smiles, 
 and then awoke suddenly, and felt in their 
 pockets if the little gift to grace their mother's 
 dress were still there, for the purchase of 
 which they had forgotten to dine for many a 
 day. Augusta looked till she was tired of 
 watching flying faces and flying stations, and 
 then she leant back and fairly fell asleep till
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 163 
 
 the cry of Arminster ! disturbed her slumbers. 
 There was a great bustle at Arminster. Lots 
 of Christmas folks had arrived by the long 
 train, bound for divers little villages and 
 towns in the neighbourhood ; and the number 
 of flys not being adequate to the number 
 of passengers, a sort of fight ensued, in which 
 the most impertinent and daring carried off 
 the flys, or rather, the flys carried off them, 
 while the quiet and amiable were left behind, 
 and stood staring at each other in a discon- 
 solate and woeful manner. A meek man was 
 jingling his pockets and calculating the pro- 
 bable expense of a night at an inn, when 
 Archer Neville brushed by with Augusta on 
 one arm, and a bundle of shawls and wrappers 
 dangling from the other. He had been detained 
 long on the platform, by a hunt for a bonnet- 
 box belonging to his sister, which, after a fruit- 
 less search in the luggage-van, was found quietly 
 reposing under the seat of the carriage, where 
 Augusta had placed it with her own fair hands. 
 " Wliat ! no carriage here ?" exclaimed 
 Archer in a tone of surprise, as they passed 
 out of the station gates. A man who was 
 standing by informed him in broad Somerset
 
 164 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 dialect, in which the words seemed flattened 
 in the middle and terminated in sharp points 
 at the edges — that a carriage had been waiting 
 two hours for a gentleman and lady, and had 
 gone away after the train came in wdth chance 
 folks to Branstone. 
 
 " But there are other flys surely to be had ?" 
 said Augusta, in a peremptory manner. 
 
 The man doubted it in his broad Somerset 
 brogue. There was a conjuror, he said, at 
 Sleebury, " and folks was gone to see it." 
 Augusta ejaculated " Absurd !" maintained 
 there must be flys, insisted on despatching a 
 boy to ascertain, a bright Somerset boy, who 
 returned with a statement corroborating the 
 first. There was nothing to be done but to 
 walk to the nearest inn, which possessed a 
 ponderous sign of King George, very vulgar, 
 and very red in the face, with such a broad 
 grin, that it corresponded rather with the jolly 
 landlord, than his Majesty. It was a raw 
 night ; the thaw had changed into a hard frost ; 
 and Augusta slipped along the narrow streets, 
 holding fast by Archer's arm. The town looked 
 deserted ; " folks," as the man said, " had gone 
 to Sleebury ;" and the town seemed dark after
 
 LUCY AYLMEU. ] 65 
 
 the metropolis, for the gas was veiy faint, and 
 the town looked cold too, for the thaw had not 
 gone on so fast as in London, and there was' 
 plenty of snow still on the house-roofs, and 
 even in the streets. Archer and his sister 
 turned under a great gateway in High Street. 
 There was a row of parlour doors on one side 
 and office doors on the other ; and iron safes 
 hung on the walls ; straight on little lights 
 , glimmered, and horses neighed in their stalls ; 
 and King George swung in his sign and 
 grinned dovvn upon the whole. A very lady- 
 like landlady in weeds appeared from her own 
 parlour, and after a few enquiries ushered 
 them into their parlour. A rusty Turkey 
 carpet was on the floor, and a bad fire 
 burned in a straight, high grate. Two faint 
 tallow candles flickered and quivered on a 
 square table full of yellow newspapers, bearing 
 a strong odour of tobacco. There was an an- 
 cient four-legged piano, covered with salt-cellars 
 and an immense parade of mustard-cruets, with 
 bone spoons Avell smeared, protruding forth, 
 seeming to have no other object than to entrap 
 unwary flies — there was a sideboard with 
 corresponding ornaments, a horse-hair sofa
 
 1G6 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 and cliairs. Prints of queens in short waists 
 and strange coiffures, in mahogany frames 
 carefully covered with yellow gauze, looked 
 condescendingly and kindly from the walls, 
 evidently rejoicing in the protection of the 
 royal personage outside. Augusta sat down 
 on the horse-hair sofa and remarked all these, 
 particularly the mustard-cruets, while Archer 
 enquired vainly for some conveyance to take 
 them to Porsted ; and then Augusta, in. 
 despair, ordered some refreshments. 
 
 " This is tiresome," she exclaimed, as the 
 door closed after the landlady, who had come 
 for orders, " how disappointed Phil and the 
 girls Avill be !" 
 
 " And uneasy !" added Archer. 
 
 Augusta did not reply, she was glancing 
 round the room again. 
 
 "Archer !" she exclaimed, after a long pause. 
 " How strange this room makes me feel ! I 
 could fancy myself once more a child ; all so 
 unchanged from the days when I sat on my 
 father's knee by this very fire." There was 
 almost a pathos in her voice as she spoke. 
 
 Archer drew very near the fire and warmed 
 his hands, and said — " I could not feel young
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 167 
 
 again ;" and his looks agreed with his words. 
 There was no youth — none of its trust and 
 purity in him. 
 
 " But I do feel young," rejoined Augusta ; 
 " but how changed since those days, then, the 
 little child in the grey cloak, now, a courted 
 London woman — and yet the little child in 
 the grey cloak was the happier — oh, much 
 happier ! I would give all my beauty to feel 
 again one hour of the child's delight on my 
 first return from school ; when I counted the 
 mustard-pots on the piano, and thought those 
 execrable prints fine engravings." 
 
 " That was a long time ago," observed 
 Archer ; and glancing at his sister, he added, 
 " I thought liondon and its attractions had 
 obliterated all those ' Lang syne ' days from 
 your memory ?" 
 
 " You thought wrong of me. Archer, as 
 you often do," she replied. She was stooping 
 over the fire with her eyes fixed on the grey 
 smoke, and little gassy coals sticking to the 
 bars and making angry, discontented sounds. 
 
 " You are evidently annoyed at the prospect 
 of passing the night here," said Archer. 
 
 " I am," she replied. " You know I am not
 
 168 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 accustomed to be disappointed. What shall I 
 do in this inn with no maid, and yet all the 
 bore of unpacking ?" 
 
 " Shall I go and enquire again if there is 
 anything to be procured to convey us to the 
 Manor ?" 
 
 "Do, Archer ; find any thing, even an open 
 vehicle. You know I am strong, and not 
 afraid of cold." 
 
 "But it is late and the frost is fearful," 
 Archer hesitated as he held the door handle in 
 his liand. 
 
 " The frost will not kill me, Archer !" was 
 Augusta's short reply. 
 
 Her brother looked at her, the old, inquisitive 
 look, as if he longed to fathom her thoughts ; 
 and he then disappeared into the ^tone- 
 flagged yard. A groom, in green livery, was 
 loitering about smoking, and Archer, slipping 
 on the icy pavement, fell against him. Archer 
 instantly apologised, as he recovered his 
 footing, " No harm done. Sir," the man re- 
 plied touching his hat. 
 
 " The state of the roads must be dreadful," 
 said Archer, in a hopeless tone. 
 
 " Bad enough, indeed. Sir !" was the reply,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 169 
 
 " but frost or no frost, my horses have twenty 
 good miles to go before the night's out." 
 
 " Twenty miles !" exclaimed Archer, " whose 
 servant are you ?" 
 
 " My Lady De Walden's, Sir," and the man 
 knocked the ashes rather consequentially from 
 his cigar. 
 
 "Who is going to Castle St. Agnes to- 
 night ?" asked Archer. 
 
 " Mr. Erresford and my Lord Glendowan. 
 They came down by the five o'clock train, and 
 have been kept here by calling on Judge 
 Harper : business about the estate. Sir, I 
 believe," added the communicative servant. 
 
 Archer walked away disconsolately ; the 
 wind howled under the archway, cold, chill, 
 and drear, as the wind does after a thaw ; it 
 perfectly cut Archer's face, and sent the tears 
 chasing each other down his cheeks. Archer 
 had a habit of swearing when he was angry, 
 and he put it into practice now, as he hurried 
 from inn to inn enquiring for a carriage, 
 pursued by the merciless cold which actually 
 followed his fingers into his pockets, and stole 
 down the upturned collar. His search was aU 
 in vain. The De Walden Arms, the Plough, 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 the Castle, and Green Dragon were all bereft 
 of flys or any other civilized mode of convey- 
 ance. The Blue Boar alone possessed both a 
 carriage and horses comfortably housed in 
 their stables; but the un amiable beast re- 
 fused, for love or money, to send horses 
 tvy^enty miles, that iron-bound night. It V7as in 
 vain swearing at the Blue Boar, whose white 
 tusks gleamed menacingly down upon him ; 
 and Archer retraced his steps down High 
 Street, afraid to report his ill-success to his 
 imperious sister. He gazed abstactedly 
 beneath a lamp post, wondering why he in 
 common with so many bowed before 
 Augusta as a superior being; and when, 
 after this thought, he lifted up his eyes, they 
 met the same benevolent eyes he had seen at 
 the corner of Chancery Lane, when he was 
 ensconced in his comfortable brougham. 
 Archer wished himself there now, indeed he 
 did ! The very benevolent eyes looked at him 
 as they passed, though the face was so 
 covered up in wraps as to be nearly hidden ; 
 and so was a certain other face, which went 
 by at the same time. Archer Neville felt a 
 kind of twinge as the two passed him.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 171 
 
 Could it be that the uprightness and goodness 
 of their look, caused him to draw unpleasant 
 comparisons ? Perhaps it was. He walked 
 hastily back to the George ; and the two tall 
 men, with their plaids folded closely around 
 them, entered the inn yard at the same time. 
 Suddenly it occurred to Archer that they 
 must be Lord Glendowan and Mr. Erresford, 
 and he was right. The grooms touched their 
 hats as they passed, and so did the ostler and 
 boots : the latter accosted Archer with the 
 question : 
 
 " Found one, Sir ?" 
 
 " No," said Archer abruptly, " I must give 
 up my journey to-night." 
 
 " There is a party there going to Forsted," 
 suggested boots. 
 
 " I know it," replied Archer, as he put his 
 hand on the parlour door ; but, before he 
 could open it, Cecil Erresford courteously 
 asked : 
 
 " Did I understand rightly, that you wish 
 to go to Eorsted to-night ?" 
 
 " I should prefer a night's lodging here," 
 rephed Archer, " but I have a sister with me, 
 who is anxious to arrive at the Manor House
 
 172 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 this evening ; however, as no flys are to be 
 obtained either by bribes or threats, she must 
 give up her journey." 
 
 " My carriage will start for Forsted in a 
 quarter of an hour, and it will be a great 
 pleasure to me, if Mr. and Miss Neville will 
 take advantage of it," said Cecil. " My name 
 is Erresford ; I have the pleasure of being ac- 
 quainted at the Manor, and have heard of 
 your expected arrival. Mr. Neville and the 
 young ladies are most anxious to receive you, 
 and they must not be disappointed — can Miss 
 Miss Neville be soon ready." 
 
 Archer Neville replied that his sister could ; 
 thanked Mr. Erresford ; feared they would 
 be a bore, &c. ; and in a quarter of an hour 
 from that time, it came to pass that Archer 
 found himself talking famiharly with Lord 
 Glendowan, while the splendid Augusta 
 Neville was leaning back in the travelling 
 carriage, enjoying a tete-a-tete with Cecil 
 Erresford. In this famihar converse, it oc- 
 cured to Augusta to mention their morning's 
 disaster, and then she learnt, to her great 
 surprise, that it was to Cecil they owed their 
 preservation from further accident. He it was,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 173 
 
 who had rushed out of his brougham to 
 render the needful assistance. Of course 
 both Augusta and Archer were loud in their 
 thanks and expressions of gratitude; and 
 pleasant was the drive that cold, frosty night 
 from Arminster to Castle St. Agnes, where 
 the carriage deposited Lord Glen do wan and 
 Cecil Erresford, before conveying Archer and 
 his sister to the Squire's home.
 
 174 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 But thou, — what dost thou here, 
 In the old man's peaceful hall ? 
 
 MACATJLAY. 
 
 "Better late than never!" so said the 
 Squire as he stood close by the hall door, and 
 putting his stout arm around his sister, 
 saluted her on either cheek. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Augusta !" exclaimed the bright 
 cheery-tones of Maude's voice, " Lucy and T 
 thought no less horrors than that you had been 
 robbed and murdered by the way ! — Come into 
 the warm, your must be frozen and wearied to 
 death by this time! Come papa, release Auntie!" 
 
 No sooner had the Squire done this, than 
 Maude flew towards her Aunt, and admin- 
 istered so many kisses, that Miss Neville was
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 175 
 
 obliged in self-defence to cry out; "Oh, 
 Maude, you overpower me !" — so Maude 
 desisted, and left room for Lucy, who 
 much more gentle in her greetings, seemed 
 rather to expect than bestow an embrace. 
 Then when all these welcomings were gone 
 through, Aunt Augusta was led by Maude 
 into the dining-room, every comer of which 
 was lighted by a roaring wood fire piled half 
 way up the chimney ; and by this fire Maude 
 drew a great elbow chair, in which the fathers 
 and grandfathers of the Nevilles had been 
 wont to sit, and placing her Aunt there, with 
 her feet on a stool, exclaimed triumphantly ; 
 " now Auntie, don't you feel at home ?" 
 
 " Most certainly I do, Maude, as much at 
 home as I ever shall feel." 
 
 Maude looked pleased. She regarded her 
 Aunt's entree as a kind of inauguration on 
 her part, very successfully performed, and in 
 her restless activity, busied herself with remov- 
 ing her Aunt*s furs. 
 
 " You look as blooming as ever, Maude," 
 said her Aunt ; " come Lucy, do let me hear 
 you speak." 
 
 " Lucy is so overcome with joy, you see,
 
 176 LTJCY AYLMER. 
 
 Auntie, that speech fails her !" laughed 
 Maude." 
 
 " Not exactly," replied Lucy smiling. " Are 
 not you very tired. Aunt Augusta?" 
 
 " No Lucy, not now. I was ennuyee, indeed, 
 when I reached Arminster, but a very agreeable 
 companion quite took away from the monotony 
 of twenty miles of darkness." 
 
 '' A very agreeable companion, Auntie !" 
 echoed Maude. 
 
 ''Ay! what lady feels dull after twenty miles' 
 tete-a-tete with a handsome young gentleman?" 
 said the merry mischievous voice of the Squire, 
 who came in unobserved, and laid his hand on 
 the back of his sister's chair. 
 
 " Still as absurd as ever, Phil ?" said 
 Augusta, while both the nieces went forward 
 to welcome their Uncle, who had remained 
 behind to see after his sister's numerous boxes 
 and parcels. 
 
 " How fresh and charming the girls look !" 
 Augusta continued, when they were engrossed 
 with their Uncle. 
 
 *' I will back them against any two in the 
 county, ay, or any two in England," said the 
 Squire heartily ; "they are a bonnie pair."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 177 
 
 Augusta laughed. " I look forward to the 
 day when they will grace my drawing-room/' 
 she said. 
 
 " Fiddle de dee !" exclaimed the Squii'e, 
 " don't talk about taking them to London. I 
 say it is a bad place for girls — mine thrive in 
 the country, and there let them stay !" 
 
 " I despair of your ever giving up yom- old 
 prejudices, Phil," said his sister. "London 
 has not harmed me." 
 
 " No, but it has kept you a spinster 1" 
 replied the Squire, with a mischievous smile. 
 
 Augusta disdained to be angry ; nay, she 
 even laughed as she said ;" " oh, soft, Phil, 
 whom should I have married here ?" 
 
 " Lots of people ! — you might have been 
 mistress of any place in the country, if you 
 had not buried yourself in that smoke-dried 
 city !" 
 
 " Do not talk about the city, Phil, it is 
 positively barbarous ! I never lived in the 
 city in my life — I hope you do not propound 
 such absurdities at the Castle ?" 
 
 "Don't I?" said the Squire. "When you 
 and I go together to pay our respects to my 
 Lady Countess and her noble daughters, you 
 
 I 3
 
 178 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 see if I don't startle them all, by what you 
 call ' absurdities ' — and to come to the point, 
 what is London but a city?'* 
 
 " I shall not argue with you : it is worse 
 than useless," replied Augusta, sinking her 
 head back against the cushions. "Tell me, 
 Phil, what have you been doing with yourself 
 since last Christmas ?" 
 
 " Lor, my dear, why you have given me a 
 task to account for myself through a whole 
 year ! I must consult my almanack and sport- 
 ing calendars." 
 
 " But surely, Phil, you have other news 
 besides reckonings of slain hares and pheasants 
 to tell one ? I want to know how the Forsted 
 folks thrive ; who are dead, and who married — 
 and so on." 
 
 " OldPerrers is under the sod ; here is news 
 for you at a minute's notice." 
 
 " But very stale, I am afraid," said Augusta 
 smiling ; " Maude and Lucy's letters gave 
 every particular, besides every obituary in 
 every paper announcing his death — and so you 
 have young Aylmer as his successor — how 
 does he comport himself ?" 
 
 " A good fellow, but does not know his own
 
 LtCY AYLMER. 179 
 
 mind ! — preached a rum sermon his first 
 Sunday — such a one as made all the folks 
 stare — He said pretty plain and proper things 
 first, then, all of a sudden, he seemed afraid 
 of what he had said, and began to qualify it : 
 his winding-up w^as a flat contradiction to the 
 beginning — pon my word, I could not make 
 head or tail out of it ! — Erresford brought 
 him here, and Erresford was vexed, you might 
 see that by his looks, though, of course, he said 
 nothing. Why, even my girls, who were longing 
 to praise their pet parson's sermon, were obhged 
 to hold their tongues — they say Erresford's 
 elder sister was mightily pleased, and stopped 
 behind to shake hands with his reverence in 
 the churchyard, and commend his performance, 
 and I can fancy it, for she is a contradictory 
 thing, and hkes nothing other people do." 
 
 " You must find Mr. Erresford's family nice 
 neighbours," said Augusta, when the Squire 
 had delivered himself of this long speech. 
 " How do the girls get on at Castle St. Agnes ?" 
 
 "Better than I thought they would," re- 
 pUed the Squire ; " the youngest sister. Lady 
 Elora, I think they call her, seems to have 
 taken quite a fancy to them. She talked about
 
 180 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 coming to spend a morning here, but my Lord 
 Glendowan, her ladyship's lover, a harmless, 
 fatherly sort of a personage, has been down 
 here dangling after her ; and I suppose she has 
 found it impossible to tear herself away." 
 
 " I have been already introduced to the 
 young lady's futur then, for he was also our 
 travelling companion from Arminster — but 
 have you not received an invitation to the 
 Castle ?" said Augusta. 
 
 " Oh yes ! we have been asked twice to 
 dinner, but I was engaged both times, and the 
 girls could not go alone." 
 
 "What a pity!" said Augusta. "A little 
 society would do them good." 
 
 " We shall have plenty of it now you are 
 here, especially as you have already won Cecil 
 Erresford's heart." 
 
 "Exactly so," replied Augusta, "and per- 
 haps Mr. Aylmer will solemnize the ceremony 
 gratis on account of past favours." 
 
 " Very good, very good," laughed the 
 Squire. Morris here brought in the supper 
 tray, with sundry smoking good things, very 
 savoury to the nose and agreeable to the 
 taste.
 
 LUCY AYLMER 181 
 
 " Girls, I say, girls, where are you?" shouted 
 the Squire. 
 
 The girls were not very far off. Their voices 
 were heard in the hall, where, late though the 
 hour, Maude was proudly shoeing off the 
 Christmas decorations to her uncle, and hear- 
 ing from him the news, the accident to his 
 carriage and his fortunate meeting with Mr. 
 Erresford at Arminster. They came into the 
 dining-room at their father's summons, which 
 was a relief to Archer, who had not one 
 feeling in common with his artless young 
 nieces. 
 
 " Well, Archer !" exclaimed the Squire, clap- 
 ping his brother somewhat heartily on the 
 shoulder ; " welcome, old fellow, to the manor 
 again ! What not hke the fire ? I should have 
 thought it was the best friend you could have 
 such a night as this." 
 
 "Archer always keeps from the fire, it 
 is such wretchedly bad taste," observed Au- 
 gusta. 
 
 " Cold taste, you mean," said the Squire, 
 *' but never mind, sit where you like — every 
 one to his taste, Maude will finish it — the old 
 lady's cow, you know, eh, Maude ?"
 
 182 
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Nonsense, papa," said Maude laughing, 
 " uncle Archer, I am coming over to take care 
 of you." ' 
 
 "And my quiet little Lucy shall take care 
 of me," said her aunt ; " and so Lucy, my 
 child you have got new friends at Forsted?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Lucy, " Castle St. Agnes 
 and the parsonage are filled now." 
 
 " If Mr. Erresford's sisters resemble him- 
 self, they must be very agreeable people," said 
 Atigusta. 
 
 " It was the funniest thing in the world 
 your coming from Arminster with Mr. Erres- 
 ford. You never saw him before, did you, 
 Auntie ?" asked Maude. 
 
 " Never, to my recollection," replied Miss 
 NeviUe, " though he seems to remember play- 
 ing hide-and-seek with me at the keeper's 
 lodge in St. Agnes woods." 
 
 "A good memory for the beautiful!" re- 
 marked the Squire. 
 
 Augusta decidedly thought herself beautiful, 
 so her smile was not one of bashfulness, but 
 complacency. 
 
 " What did you find to talk about all the 
 way ?" asked Maude.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 183 
 
 " Sundry sweet things, that you know no- 
 thing about yet, missey," said the Squire. 
 
 " No, but really Auntie, what did you 
 say?" persisted Maude, who was not to be 
 daunted. 
 
 "A httle of everything — frost and snow, 
 town and country, old times and new times — 
 there, Maude, I hope you are satisfied ?" said 
 her aunt. 
 
 "And did you and Erresford agree on 
 many subjects ? I should fancy not, eh, Au- 
 gusta?" asked the Squire. 
 
 " Oh, I make a point of differing. No con- 
 versation is worth anything in which everyone 
 coincides," replied Augusta, carelessly : " it 
 bores me when people will adopt my opinions 
 from motives of politeness." 
 
 " But you do not surely mean that people 
 tell stories out of pohteness ?" exclaimed 
 Maude. 
 
 " My dear child, you are very innocent; 
 wait till you have seen a little of the world, 
 and then you will find out many harmless little 
 evasions are used for expediency." 
 
 *' Then if the world is so horrid as you 
 represent, I am sure I do not want to see it,"
 
 184 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 replied the straight-forward Maude, a curl 
 expressive of contempt on her proud lip. 
 
 " Silly child!" said Augusta, in a patronizing 
 tone, " half people say in everyday conversa- 
 tion they do not mean ; for instance, when 
 people call whom you hate to see, and you say 
 how glad you are they are come — is not that 
 a little evasion ? and in the same way, when 
 you are not at home to people you do not 
 choose to admit." 
 
 " Then you tell untruths, that is all," said 
 Maude, " and I despise people who do it." 
 
 " Then you despise me, Maude, for I do so 
 daily," replied Miss Neville, carelessly. " ' Not 
 at home' is a mere conventionalism, a phrase 
 quite admitted in everyday society." 
 
 Lucy looked vexed ; she was making up her 
 mind to speak, when Maude said in an im- 
 patient tone — 
 
 " Well, Aunt Augusta, no one will ever make 
 me believe; that it would not be a story if I 
 told Morris to let Lady Anne suppose I was 
 not at home, when all the time I was sitting 
 by the fireside." 
 
 " Go it, Maude !" ejaculated the Squire. 
 " Why you are getting quite red in the face."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 185 
 
 And positively Maude was quite flushed with 
 indignation; and turning to Archer, she asked: 
 " Now, do you not agree with me, Uncle ?" 
 
 " I am afraid I shall shock you, INIaude, but 
 I go with the times," said Archer, Avho had 
 been particularly silent over his wing of fowl 
 and mulled claret. 
 
 Maude turned rather hopelessly away, then 
 with a proud toss of the head, she exclaimed. 
 
 " I know I am right after all." 
 
 " That's right, i\Iaude !" said the Squire. 
 "Nothing like thinking well of your own 
 opinion ! I will back you in it too ; I am no 
 Methodist, but if a fellow calls and asks for 
 me, and I am at home, iMorris lets him in, to 
 be sure ! Here's a bumper to Claude and me 
 — who will join ?" 
 
 Every one would — it was impossible to 
 resist the Squire's unbounded good-humour ; 
 Augusta caught a spark, and her spirits were 
 more really gay that Christmas Eve, than 
 throughout her whole London year. But 
 Archer caught no spark ; all was dull about 
 him, so chill, that if a spark had fallen, it 
 would have been instantly extinguished in such 
 an atmosphere.
 
 186 LUCr AYLMER. 
 
 Christmas Day came and went at Forsted, 
 as it comes and goes at most places possessing 
 such a munificent proprietor as the Countess. 
 In the village, the poor regaled off roast beef 
 and ale from the Castle ; and at the Castle 
 and Manor, there were family gatherings and 
 plenty of mirth and merriment. A hard frost 
 bringing with it long icicles on house eaves 
 and fantastic devices on window panes— a 
 light, fairy sprinkling of snow, a bright burst 
 of sunshine, lots of red holly berries and dark 
 laurel boughs, and a joyous peal of bells, 
 completed Christmas Day. And for the rest, 
 there was the usual routine of good cheer and 
 good temper. Who could or ought to be un- 
 amiable on Christmas Day ? The Castle St. 
 Agnes folks, and the folks from the Manor, 
 exchanged good wishes and greetings beneath 
 the porch of old St. Walburga, that is to say 
 those of the respective parties who attended 
 morning service. Of these, on the Manor 
 House side, the gentlemen preferred smoking 
 and lounging in their comfortable elbow chairs 
 by the fire, to sitting out Robert Aylmer*s 
 sermon in their cold pew ; but the Castle 
 people, however, were better behaved, for of all
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 187 
 
 their large party not one was absent from 
 the dark old gallery. So it came about that 
 the Lady Flora did not then confront the 
 original of the sketch she took in the crowd 
 on Lord Mayor's day. 
 
 Now Christmas chanced to fall this year on 
 Tuesday ; and on the Wednesday afternoon, 
 as Augusta Neville was sitting in the drawing- 
 room window of the Manor House initiating 
 her fair niece Lucy in that intricate and 
 absorbing art of cutting holes and then mend- 
 ing them, to which ladies are pleased to give 
 the name, embroidery — it came to pass that 
 Morris with his utmost professional skill, 
 threw open the door so wide as greatly to 
 threaten and endanger the health and strength 
 of its hinges — and was heard to announce in 
 tones of proud importance, " The Countess De 
 Walden and Lady Flora Erresford !" And 
 in sailed the noble old lady, and in ghded her 
 retiring, melancholy daughter. It happened 
 that Miss Neville and her niece had been so 
 engrossed with making the holes over green 
 cloth, that they had forgotten the existence 
 of Archer, who nevertheless was in the room, 
 lounging in an easy chair by the fire, while
 
 188 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 his eagle eyes and quick brain were both 
 helping one another to grow more and more 
 puzzled over the mysteries of the Poet Laureate. 
 But when the noble sounding names filled the 
 drawing-room, up started the barrister, and 
 in a moment, the eagle eyes so puzzled over 
 Tennyson, now descried the commanding 
 figure and still handsome face of the elder 
 lady, and the shrinking form and passive, 
 though attractive countenance of the younger. 
 Now, though the Lady Flora had not only 
 seen, but sketched Mr. Neville's marked 
 physiognomy, it had never once occurred to 
 Archer, that any one, much less a noble young 
 lady was so employed that Lord Mayor's 
 day. Accordingly, though he might have 
 given a casual glance at the window occupied 
 by the fair artist, he carried away no im- 
 pression of the countenance; but when on 
 entering, Lady Flora confronted that same 
 face she had put down on paper, though 
 Maude had, in some measure, prepared her, 
 by describing it as bearing an unmistakable 
 likeness to her uncle, yet so surprised was she, 
 that first she turned pale and then she turned 
 red and was so confused, that she would
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 189 
 
 have forgotten to kiss Lucy, if Lucy had not 
 kissed her, and would not even have bowed 
 to Augusta, only that Augusta shook hands 
 with her, and asked her to sit near the fire. 
 So Archer handed her a chair, and in a few 
 moments Lady Flora found herself conversing 
 mth the stranger of the crowd. How oddly 
 things come about — so oddly that it quite 
 puzzled Lady Flora. 
 
 "I was determined to take the earliest 
 opportunity of calKng on you, Miss Neville," 
 began the Countess, when she had arranged 
 herself and her velvets agreeably on a sofa. 
 
 " It is extremely kind of you," replied the 
 dashing Augusta, w^hose stylish dress looked 
 Httle in accordance with the shabby old 
 furniture of the room. "Strangely enough, 
 my brother and I are indebted to the kind- 
 ness of a member of your Ladyship's family, 
 for having reached Forsted at all, for had we 
 not happily fallen in with Mr. Erresford, who 
 took compassion on our forlorn state, we 
 should have had every chance of commencing 
 our Christmas at a duU inn, in that dull town, 
 Arminster." 
 
 " My son was deUghted in being able to
 
 190 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 convey you here," said the Countess. " Really 
 a Christmas at Arminster is something dread- 
 ful only to think of, and the reality would be 
 intolerable !" 
 
 "Poor little Arminster! and yet in my 
 childhood, I have no doubt, I thought it a 
 very fine place," observed Augusta ; " but 
 after an intimate acquaintance with capitals, all 
 minor towns appear insignificant." 
 
 " I believe Erresford told me your home is 
 in London ?" resumed the Countess. 
 
 " Yes, we reside there during the habitable 
 part of the year. Indeed, though a child of 
 the country, what I should do if compelled to 
 dwell in its depths — ^here, for instance, from 
 year's end to year's end, I never can imagine : 
 the most probable conclusion I can arrive at, 
 is that of dying of ennui before the first year 
 was out." 
 
 "Your views, Miss Neville, perfectly co- 
 incide with my own," remarked the Countess ; 
 for her ladyship, to agree with any one was a 
 wondrous mark of favour. " My son and I," 
 she continued, " have many arguments on the 
 point. Cecil, for a man of the world, possesses 
 a love of the country, that is astonisliing ; for
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 191 
 
 to my taste, what can a man of cultivated 
 mind find in the dull, monotonous routine of 
 country life, to equal the charming excitement 
 that prevails throughout our season — all that 
 can satisfy the most fastidious ideas. Then 
 we have the fascinations of the opera, and the 
 charm of a ball or a concert at the palace 1" 
 and a great deal more on the subject did this 
 gay old lady say, which is easily comprised 
 by those convenient little words, et cetera. 
 
 Augusta agreed with her in this quite con- 
 scientiously ; for if she had wished it, there 
 was not one word on which she could differ. 
 Presently, the Countess, who never con- 
 versed long on one subject, (it had been a rule 
 inculcated in her youth to prevent monotony 
 of conversation), observed : 
 
 "What charming young creatures your 
 nieces are !" 
 
 Again Augusta agreed, but her acquies- 
 cence was quahfied, as she rephed : 
 
 " Yes, but they are rather childish." 
 
 " But then their age. Miss NeviUe," added 
 the Countess, " the very childlike manner to 
 which you object, imparts a lovely freshness. 
 Mr. Neville may reasonably expect capital
 
 192 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 alliances for such fair young things." The 
 Countess was a little bit of a match-maker. 
 
 "I do not imagine my brother has a 
 thought on the subject yet," replied Augusta 
 smiling, "I do not think he is ambitious, 
 provided they marry gentlemen, and Hve 
 within a reasonable distance of the old Manor : 
 I am sure he will be quite contented." 
 
 " It is a pity," said the Countess. " Those 
 two sweet girls ought not to be buried. 
 Forsted is very well as a nursery, but they will 
 soon require transplanting." 
 
 " Which I intend to do on the first op- 
 portunity," rejoined Augusta. " My brother 
 has an absurd, old-fashioned prejudice against 
 town society, but I mean to combat it. I am 
 in the habit of gaining my own way with 
 most people," she added with a smile, " and 
 my brother Phil is not a difficult person to win 
 over." 
 
 " Your niece Maude seems made for a 
 London life," continued the Countess, " for 
 the gentle Lucy, I question it." 
 
 " I also have my doubts if we shall ever 
 get poor httle Lucy through one single 
 season."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 193 
 
 "It is very insinuating," remarked the 
 Countess. 
 
 While Miss Neville and her noble guest 
 were planning for the two charming sisters, 
 Lady Flora was becoming acquainted ^^dth 
 the insinuating, the discerning — and shall 
 I add it — the artful, Archer Neville. He could 
 be silent, and he could be eminently con- 
 versable, as suited his purpose ; he chose now 
 to make himself agreeable, for he was fasci- 
 nated with the Lady Elora — not the first 
 person who had been so before — but to no 
 purpose. Was it to any purpose to-day, that 
 his eagle eyes kindled, and his fascinating 
 voice, whose tones were so varying, that they 
 never wearied, put forth its utmost power? 
 Ah 1 that like other things remained to be 
 proved. 
 
 "You really do like poetry, though your 
 preference is limited," Flora said, in answer to 
 some remark of Archer's. 
 
 "I do," he rephed, "but the poetry I 
 delight in, is not the style whose every effort 
 is to shut our eves to its meanino;. I like a 
 bold, flomng verse, comprehensible in each 
 line, not that morbid kind which puzzles the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 head and wearies the heart, so much by its 
 very morbidness, as to shut out the apprecia- 
 tion of any stray beauty which may chance 
 to have wandered in among the stragghng 
 metre." 
 
 " Oh ! I care for the soft and touching 
 rather than the bold," Lady Flora said in her 
 painfully timid voice, while she played 
 nervously with the small, soft hand of Lucy, 
 which rested in hers. 
 
 " Ah ! I know your style," he replied, 
 " The ' Buried Flower' for instance." 
 
 " Oh, yes !" exclaimed Lucy, eagerly. 
 
 "Strange to say, I do not know it," re- 
 plied Flora, as though not to know the 
 ' Buried Flower' were a sin. 
 
 " I brought the whole of Aytoun's poems 
 down for Lucy. Where is the book, Lucy ? 
 You will lend it to Lady Flora ?" 
 
 Lucy rose, and fetching it, laid it on Lady 
 Flora's lap. She opened the volume, and said, 
 ' it seemed a sweet book.' Flora had a painful 
 habit of agreeing to everything, even almost 
 before she knew to what she was agreeing. 
 
 " If you like, Lucy, to present the book to 
 Lady Flora, and her ladyship will condescend
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 195 
 
 to accept it, I will ^Tite for another copy 
 instantly for you," said Archer. 
 
 *' Oh, no ! pray do not,'' interrupted the 
 timid Flora. " Lucy shall send it to me when 
 she has read it." 
 
 " But, dear Lady Flora, if Uncle Archer 
 gets me another, will it not be the same ?" 
 pleaded Lucy. " I should think it so kind if 
 you would accept it." Lucy begged so 
 earnestly. Lady Flora could not resist, though 
 she thought it seemed exactly like receiving a 
 present from Mr. Neville, and that she did not 
 consider comme il faut. What would Lord 
 Glendowan say, and would not Anne tease 
 her ? She became quite confused and absent, 
 so that the clever Archer talked in vain. At 
 last Lady Flora suddenly thought of a plan to 
 prevent its appearing to come from Archer : so 
 she said : 
 
 " My dear, would you write my name and 
 yours in the book, and when you come on 
 New Year's Eve, perhaps you wdll bring 
 it?" 
 
 " New Year's Eve !" Lucy did not under- 
 stand it, though she agreed to Lady Flora's 
 proposal. 
 
 K 2
 
 196 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My faculties gather to her beauty, like the genii to the 
 glister of the lamp. 
 
 CURRER BELL. 
 
 New Year's Eve ! — it came as many other 
 New Year's Eves have done before. The old 
 year worn out and hoary with age, tottered 
 on its foundations ; and the young new year, 
 though not yet known, was ready at the stroke 
 of twelve to spring into existence. The hghts 
 glimmered faintly from room to room, and 
 then went out ; and the old Manor House lay 
 enveloped in darkness ; even the half thawed 
 snow heaps, which were doing their best to 
 freeze hard again on the edges of lawns and 
 gravel-walks, all wore a black look, as if they 
 were mourning for the dying year.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 197 
 
 From the windows of Castle St. Agnes, the 
 lights gleamed brightly and evenly in a perfect 
 burst, and the lamps down the drive burnt 
 clearly too, and lighted up the snow, so that it 
 shone like crystal ; and all looked bright await- 
 ing gladly the coming year. 
 
 The Countess D e Walden was in her element 
 to-night — all her brilliant reception rooms, so 
 long silent and dreary, were thrown open. 
 Exquisite statuary, brilliant candelabra, re- 
 flected from dazzling mirrors, all wore a strange 
 contrast to the gloom of a few months back. 
 
 A time-worn adage tells us, that ' It is an 
 ill- wind that blows no one any good ' — The 
 fire at Wood Hall was an ill-wind for the 
 place in Essex ; but it blew good to the place 
 in Somersetshire. All the neighbourhood 
 thought so, especially that night, when the 
 visitable neighbourhood lounged on the 
 Countess's ottomans, or danced in the 
 Countess's saloons, and the Countess moved 
 about among them all, like a queen doing the 
 honours of her palace. 
 
 Lady Flora, young, drooping and elegant, 
 danced T\4th Lord Glendowan. Archer Neville, 
 danced with no one ; his arms were crossed in a
 
 198 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Napoleon-like attitude ; his eagle eyes followed 
 the strangely assorted pair, and in the expres- 
 sion that portended no good, there was 
 jealousy — and the only softening expression 
 was love — and that was a new passion with 
 Archer — he had only once seen the Lady 
 Flora, and yet he loved her — and that love 
 made him think Lord Glendowan no fit 
 husband for her. He was bent on dancing 
 with Lady Flora, and so he asked no one else, 
 but stood apart confronting a mirror, and in 
 that mirror, he saw his splendid sister dancing 
 with Cecil Erresford. A satirical smile just 
 touched his lips and disappeared. 
 
 He saw Maude and Lucy both dancing, 
 the one eagerly, the other wearily — and the 
 mirror showed him, apart from the others, 
 Robert Aylmer in a very straight waistcoat, 
 talking to Lady Anne, with her massive gold 
 cross depending from her stately throat. 
 There was an unmistakable contempt in every 
 feature of his countenance as he looked at 
 them ; and while he looked, in the glass shone 
 Lord Glendowan, with his arm round the waist 
 of the Lady Flora. Then presently, his niece 
 Lucy stopped her partner, who handed her to
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 199 
 
 a coucli close by. Lucy looked flushed and 
 tired, and her partner, a well got up, ordinary 
 looking man, asked if she did not prefer 
 music to dancing ? and Lucy replying in the 
 affirmative, he said, " ah, I thought so 1" — and 
 asked if she wished to continue her polka. 
 She thanked him, but declined ; he did not 
 seem in the least offended, but rather relieved, 
 and after a slight bow, went ofi" to dance with 
 a bold-looking girl, with a superabundance of 
 pink ribbons depending from her shoulders ; 
 and he appeared to enjoy her much more than 
 the quiet little Lucy. She sat and fanned 
 herself -with her Aunt's beautiful white 
 jewelled fan. Five minutes after Cecil Erres- 
 ford was by her side. 
 
 " I fear you have been neglected," he said 
 in the kindest manner possible — indeed there 
 was a touch of reverence in it. 
 
 " No, indeed I have been dancing," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 " You do not like the polka. I remember, 
 you said so once ; it fatigues you, I believe. I 
 will order the music to be changed, and then 
 perhaps you will dance a quadrille with me ?"
 
 200 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 And in her childish way, she said, " Thank 
 
 you." 
 
 He took the fan from her, and fanned her 
 himself for a little while, and then he put that 
 tiny hand on his arm, and they went away 
 together to stop the music. Then did some 
 one else look jealous — and that some one was 
 Robert Aylnier — he would have followed Cecil 
 and Lucy, only that Lady Anne — (he voted her 
 a bore !) was deep in her favourite discussion — 
 strange enough for a ball-room, of High 
 Church and Low Church. He tried to shake 
 her off, but Lady Anne was not a person to be 
 shaken off; on she went, and presently she 
 said, '' Really, Mr. Aylmer, our church looks 
 precisely like a meeting-house." 
 
 "You are very hard upon poor old St. 
 Walburga," replied Robert. " I cannot see 
 one point in which there is any resemblance." 
 
 *' Pardon me, but indeed there is," persisted 
 the authoritative Lady Anne. " Where else, 
 but in a meeting-house, do you now see those 
 high unsightly pews, and where that oppressive 
 glare of white paint ?" 
 
 " I own that is not in accordance with the
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 201 
 
 beautiful we ought to take for our model in 
 church architecture," he replied. 
 
 "I concluded you approved of it, by the 
 passive manner in which you submitted to all 
 my brother's arrangements," Lady Anne coldly 
 remarked. 
 
 '' You would not surely challenge me to 
 oppose any of my kind patron's plans ?" said 
 Robert, with a wavering smile. 
 
 " Then you are to have no opinion of your 
 own ; and you, whose office authorizes you to 
 dictate, are quietly to submit to be dictated 
 to ? A new view of priestly authority ?" said 
 Lady Anne with a sarcastic smile, as she fixed 
 her eyes on him in a cold, indifierent manner. 
 
 Lucy had disappeared, Robert knew not 
 whither — Cecil was fascinating — Robert 
 wished Lucy was by his side, but he — shall it 
 be confessed — began to be a little afraid of 
 Lady Anne, so he stood motionless as he re- 
 plied, " Would you have me, simply because 
 I am a clergyman, quarrel with my patron 
 whom I am bound by every tie of gratitude 
 and affection to respect?" 
 
 " Absurd !" murmured Lady Anne, who 
 was decidedly not acting up to her opinion, 
 
 K 3
 
 202 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 that priests ought not to be dictated to; 
 but Robert was too passive to see this, and 
 when she murmured "absurd l" he replied 
 with the utmost good-humour. " Lady Anne, 
 you are severe upon me ! Since the unfortunate 
 pews have so much incurred your displeasure, 
 why did you not use your influence with your 
 brother, while they were being painted ? 
 When I arrived, they were past alteration." 
 
 " And I do not belive you would have said 
 a word, had your opinion been asked. Mr. 
 Aylmer I am angry with you." 
 
 " It grieves me to hear it, Lady Anne," said 
 Robert playfully. 
 
 " No, but seriously, do you care so little for 
 your church," continued her Ladyship, dog- 
 matically, " that her architecture remains a 
 matter of indifference ? I suppose when you 
 marry, you will care to see your wife well- 
 dressed ?" This was certainly the greatest 
 home thrust Lady Anne could bring to bear 
 on the obstinate young priest; though she 
 decidedly disapproved of any of the office, 
 from a deacon to an archbishop, taking upon 
 himself matrimonial vows. 
 
 Now, it so happened that Robert was not
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 203 
 
 only thinking of Lucy at that moment, but 
 thinking what a sweet Httle wife she would 
 make ; consequently he felt himself colour as 
 he replied, with as much indifference as he 
 could throw into his voice — 
 
 " I suppose my wife, if ever I find her, 
 will use her own judgment in matters that 
 concern her toilette. 
 
 "So it is — so it is," observed Lady Anne, 
 in a dejected tone. " I really do think if one 
 half our priests," (Lady Anne always made a 
 point of saying ' priest,' it sounded orthodox) 
 " were requested by their patrons, no matter 
 who or what their patrons might be, to officiate 
 in a meeting-house, they would comply." 
 
 " And I for one would never do so !" ex- 
 claimed Robert, rather vehemently. " No, 
 though I owe more to my patron, than many 
 a man owes to his own parents, I would lay 
 down my gown sooner than sink so low !" 
 
 There was the least possible gleam of 
 triumph in Lady Anne's fine eyes, as she 
 said — 
 
 " You surprise me, Mr. Aylmer I" 
 
 " Your Ladyship certainly does me in- 
 justice," observed Robert, and he looked a
 
 204 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 little vexed. " You must not think that were 
 I building my own church, that high pews or 
 white paint would find their way in. Long 
 since at Oxford, before I took orders, I made 
 a design of what I wished my church to be. 
 When you honour me with a visit at my snug 
 little parsonage, you shall see it, and then, 
 perhaps, your Ladyship will judge me a little 
 less harshly," he rephed in the most perfect 
 good-humour. 
 
 " Mr. Aylmer, I have lived longer in the 
 world than you have, and I have learned by 
 experience that it is useless forming plans 
 unless we carry them out," propounded Lady 
 Anne, with as much old fashioned gravity, as 
 if she were some twenty years, instead of only 
 eight Robert's senior. 
 
 " But, my dear Lady Anne, when have I 
 ever had an opportunity of building a church?" 
 said Robert, looking a little puzzled. 
 
 " We will, if you please, put church archi- 
 tecture aside, it applies to everything," she 
 answered. 
 
 " Tor what new sin is your Ladyship going 
 to call me to account ?" asked Robert, still in 
 the same tone of playful indifference.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 205 
 
 " I call you to account ! No, Mr. Aylmer, 
 may I never so far forget your high dignity 
 as to commit such a breach of respect to the 
 priestly office 1" 
 
 " What now, Anne 1 are you preaching a 
 sermon to Robert, or he to you, which is it ? 
 I rather think the former T It was Cecil who 
 said this, the quadrille was over and he 
 brought Lucy on his arm. 
 
 Lady Anne disdained a reply, 
 
 " Miss Lucy," she said, " you have been 
 taken care of?" 
 
 " As far as my protecting power extends,'* 
 repHed Cecil, in his cheerful, frank voice, 
 which was a relief to Robert after Lady 
 Anne's dignified monotony ; and it was a 
 greater relief still, when Cecil added, " And 
 now I have come to make over the trust, 
 Robert, to you, if Miss Lucy objects not." 
 In an instant Lucy was transferred to the arm 
 she had so often leant upon, in play and in 
 graver hours. '' Now then, what am I to do?" 
 exclaimed Cecil, smiling, "the press of busi- 
 ness overpowers me." 
 
 " You were going to dance with Maude,"
 
 206 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 said the bashful, little Lucy, who, however, 
 had ceased to fear Cecil. 
 
 " Thanks many, lady fair ! I was about to 
 forget one sweet sister for the other. Well, it 
 was more than pardonable. Let me see, where 
 is Queen Maude, ah, now ! I see, she dances 
 with Glendowan, and my sister Plora dances 
 with your Uncle. How well he waltzes ! I 
 could scarcely have imagined it. He looks 
 almost too philosophical for such an amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " You will wait for Maude ?" said the un- 
 selfish little Lucy, thinking her sister would 
 like to waltz with so agreeable a partner. 
 
 " To be sure I will, lady fair, since in Eng- 
 land we cannot ' Hospitiren.' Aylmer do you 
 recollect what tricks we used to play in our 
 younger days, when we wintered at Berlin ?" 
 
 " We have both grown old and steady since 
 then," laughed Robert. 
 
 " Old, my dear fellow ! don't talk about 
 such an unpalatable thing as age, I do not 
 feel as if I should ever grow old ; Eivig jung 
 und Ewig grun I that is what I intend to 
 ber
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 207 
 
 "I verily believe you are the happiest 
 fellow on the face of the earth !" said Robert, 
 admiringly. 
 
 " Well, I think I am," replied Cecil, so 
 radiantly, that Lucy forgot her timidity and 
 looked up smilingly in his face, " and I do not 
 see," Cecil continued, " why I should not be 
 happy, or, indeed, why every one should not : 
 do you. Miss Lucy ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I do not know what unhappiness is !" 
 said the sweet young voice. 
 
 " And I hope you never will," said Robert, 
 warmly. 
 
 " That is a very kind wish, Robert," re- 
 joined Lucy. 
 
 " And I second it with all my heart," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 ^ Robert loved his patron ; but he loved Lucy 
 too, and he began to be fidgetty lest the 
 fascinating and attractive Cecil should out- 
 shine himself in her eyes. Poor little Lucy ! 
 no one was more innocent of love affairs than 
 herself! Just at this moment. Lord Glen- 
 dowan and Maude ceased dancing, and Cecil 
 crossed the room to join them. Robert was 
 glad to have Lucy entirely to himself, and
 
 208 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 finding Lady Anne was gone, he led her away 
 to a quiet little boudoir filled with engravings, 
 statuettes, and a variety of the smaller w^orks 
 of art. There they sat down, and Robert 
 amused his quiet companion with pictures of 
 all kinds, from flowers and birds to designs of 
 monasteries and cathedrals. Lucy liked this 
 better than dancing : it was the first large 
 party to which she had ever been, and the 
 excitement, bustle and numbers, instead of 
 making her more lively, only rendered her 
 more quiet and shy. 
 
 " I do not think, Lucy, you will ever really 
 enjoy dancing," said Robert. 
 
 " I like it when I am at home, or in a 
 quiet party ; but among strangers, it is not at 
 all agreeable." 
 
 " What kind of life should you like to lead, 
 Lucy, if you had a choice?" asked Robert. 
 
 "What do you mean?" enquired Lucy, 
 turning on him her sweet ingenuous face. 
 
 " When you are grown up, and decide for 
 yourself — shall you choose a gay life or a quiet 
 
 " A quiet one, certainly," replied Lucy. " I 
 should like to live always exactly as I do now.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 209 
 
 with papa and Maude, and dear Lady Flora 
 to visit now and then, and you at the vicarage, 
 Robert." 
 
 " Would my living at the vicarage con- 
 tribute to your happiness, Lucy?" he asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 Simple Lucy ! she replied truthfully, " yes, 
 I should like you to be there." 
 
 "Thank you, Lucy, and I hope I shall 
 always remain here, it is a delightful spot ; 
 but I should not like to live always alone." 
 
 " Nor I !" replied Lucy quietly. Then she 
 rose and drew Robert's attention to a model of 
 Strasburg Cathedral. 
 
 It was really difficult to decide which was 
 
 the most unsophisticated, Robert or Lucy; 
 
 and it was a question Archer Neville was 
 
 revolving in his own mind, when after a 
 
 lengthened waltz, he walked the Lady Flora 
 
 through the rooms, gracefully dehcate and 
 
 elegant : he felt a pride in having her on his 
 
 arm. 
 
 " They are completely unworldly, both of 
 
 them !" Archer remarked, " and just the sort 
 
 of characters, who if they fell in wdth designing 
 
 people, would be imposed upon."
 
 210 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 " Let US hope, then, they never will meet 
 with persons of that description," said Flora, 
 as she caught sight, through the long vista 
 of rooms, of the sweet face she so much ad- 
 mired. 
 
 "Do you know," observed Archer, carelessly, 
 " I often think beneath those outwardly com- 
 posed and unsophisticated exteriors, there is 
 a hidden evil which we do not suspect ; but 
 which will break out and show itself on the 
 first occasion likely to call it forth." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Neville !" Lady Plora exclaimed, 
 " the idea of my sweet Lucy having any ill 
 concealed !" 
 
 " Lucy, perhaps not," replied Archer, 
 "though there are things more improbable." 
 Then seeing Lady Flora's shocked expression, 
 he added, " Lucy is a sweet child, but she has 
 no character." 
 
 " She is so young yet, that it remains to 
 be proved !" said Lady Flora, with more energy 
 than she usually displayed, "and then the 
 idea of attacking poor Mr. Aylmcr, who 
 always appears so good and amiable, and 
 laying hard things to him ! Mr. Neville, you 
 surprise me."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 211 
 
 Archer smiled, and he looked handsome 
 and attractive as he smiled. " I am generally 
 a tolerable discerner of character," he replied, 
 " I may be forming mistaken opinions now ; 
 but if, in a few years, Mr. Aylmer is not led 
 away to harm, I shall be agreeably surprised." 
 
 " Disagreeably," Archer ought to have said, 
 for there was always a certain amount of satis- 
 faction to his mind, when he read characters 
 aright, even should evil be the result. 
 
 Lady Flora was silent a few moments, and 
 then she said : 
 
 " I am sorry you think so ill of meek, 
 characterless people, if I may coin an ex- 
 pression." 
 
 " I do not think iU of them, but I dishke 
 them as a class." 
 
 Lady, Flora sighed. 
 
 "I do not think * meek' people, as yom^ 
 Ladyship is pleased to designate them, devoid 
 of character," observed Archer, with one of 
 those sudden variations of tone, which drew 
 attention to whatever subject he conversed on. 
 
 " No !" said Lady Flora, starting slightly. 
 " I am glad to hear this is your opinion. I was
 
 212 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 thinking your's was rather a sweeping con- 
 demnation/' 
 
 " It was surely not my judgment on a 
 certain class of insipid ones, that drew forth 
 so triste a sigh from the Lady Flora some 
 few moments back ?" asked Archer, with his 
 utmost gallantry. "If so, I repent my 
 words." 
 
 " Oh, no !" exclaimed Mora, "I like a frank 
 opinion. It is what one is so seldom favoured 
 with." 
 
 " Erank opinions are not generally pleasing 
 to ladies' ears, and therefore is it, they so 
 rarely find their way into the ladies' presence- 
 chamber," added Archer, with another 
 courtly smile. 
 
 Flora would have said, she had always 
 liked the truth in any shape or form, but she 
 remembered the numberless equivocations of 
 her own hapless youth, and was silent — sadly 
 silent. 
 
 Archer observed her change of look, and 
 said in a brilliant tone : 
 
 " A truce to my suspicions of harmless Mr. 
 Aylmer, and his still more harmless petite
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 213 
 
 amie. In spite of her childisliless, Lucy is 
 attractive, certainly." 
 
 " Oh, more than attractive ! She is ex- 
 quisitely winning ; but are you a poet, Mr. 
 NevHle?" 
 
 " I, a poet, your Ladyship ! I wish I were, 
 for I would instantly improvise some line on 
 my little niece and her admiring friend, the 
 Lady Flora — weave you both into one 
 chaplet," he said. 
 
 Mora smiled, as she replied : 
 
 "My pretty Lucy always reminds me of 
 the slender harebells one sees on the hill 
 side." 
 
 "To my mind, she rather resembles a 
 violet," he said, " and shall I be presump- 
 tuous, if I intertwine with the violet, the queen 
 of flowers to personate the Lady Mora ?" 
 
 And the Lady Flora's pale cheeks crimsoned, 
 as she repHed : 
 
 " The rose is so stately a flower — Maude is 
 the rose — and on her height, she keeps guard 
 over the violet who nestles at her feet." 
 
 " Then if Lady Flora will not be crowned 
 with the rose, will she not ent^vine among her 
 hair, the silver coronet of the lily ?" resumed
 
 214 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 Archer, accommodating himself to Flora's poetic 
 taste. 
 
 " You are wreathing for me all the noblest 
 flowers," she said. "Mr. Neville, you must 
 let me be the lily of the valley." 
 
 " Lovely, but too much hidden, too droop- 
 ing, too easily trampled upon 1" he replied. 
 
 " That is the reason I choose it," she added 
 in a hurried, timid tone ; " but the violet and 
 the rose, how beautifully they personate your 
 fair young nieces. And the Squire," she con- 
 tinued, " is the oak sheltering these fair flowers 
 from wind and storm, with its protecting 
 branches." 
 
 Archer smiled, for he knew full well that 
 the sheltering oak was losing fast of his sub- 
 stance at the card-tables. 
 
 It was past ten o'clock on the flrst morning 
 of the new year, when Augusta Neville, came 
 into the dining-room, looking very elegant, 
 and very languid. The Squire was lolHng back 
 in an easy chair, with hat and whip, on the 
 floor by his side, a newspaper in his hand, a 
 dog reposing at his feet, and another dog 
 curled up on his knee. 
 
 The Squire jumped up, called out, "Halloa !
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 215 
 
 Miss Neville !" — dropped liis dog, kissed his 
 sister, and then rang the bell violently. 
 
 Meanwhile Augusta sunk into a chair, 
 placing her very tasty little sHppers on a 
 cushion, and then asked her brother if he had 
 breakfasted ? To which the Squire replied, 
 "lor bless me ! I have done it pretty nearly 
 these three hoiu's ago, and I've ridden a dozen 
 miles since !" 
 
 At this, the splendid Augusta thought fit to 
 sigh, and express wonder, considering the 
 hour they retired to rest on the preceding 
 night, or rather the present morning. 
 
 Oh ! as to that, hours made no difference 
 with the Squire, he always rose with the lark, 
 and he could but doze longer after dinner, to 
 make it up. He did not keep London hours, 
 he could not bear them ! and when he said 
 this, he laughed, and seemed to challenge 
 Augusta to an argument, but Augusta poured 
 out her tea in silence. 
 
 The Squire, however, did not favour silence, 
 so he said ; " the Bond Street costumes shone 
 last night pretty resplendently ; but none with 
 greater brilliancy than that of the handsome
 
 216 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Augusta — 'pon my word ! I have hit that off 
 very successfully, as good as a love-speech ! — 
 though you don't think so, now do you.?" 
 
 "I do not know what I think yet, Phil, I 
 am scarcely awake." 
 
 " Come, that's all a turn off ! Now tell me 
 candidly, did not Miss Neville shine last 
 night ?" 
 
 " Of course, she meant to shine," replied 
 Augusta, carelessly. 
 
 " Meant to send a sun-stroke into our 
 Right Honourable M.P.'s heart, eh?" said 
 the Squire. 
 
 " No such very easy thing to do, I should 
 fancy," Augusta replied. Just then Morris 
 came in with covers, and there was a moment's 
 silence. When he had gone again, Augusta 
 said in a tone of voice, in which the least 
 possible dissatisfaction was discernible : " Do 
 you think he means anything to Lucy ?" 
 
 " What— who ? Robert !" exclaimed the 
 Squire. " Why they are sworn brother and 
 sister to the end of time !" 
 
 " But we were not speaking of Mr. Aylmer, 
 were we, Phil !" she asked.
 
 LTJCY AYLMER. 217 
 
 " Lor no ! of the Right Honom-able the 
 member ; but bless me, Augusta, what 
 should he mean to my Lucy ?" 
 
 " Oh, Phi], you are so bUnd !'* said 
 Augusta, rather impatiently, " several people 
 noticed his manner to Lucy." 
 
 "Danced with her all the evening, eh?" 
 asked the Squire. 
 
 " Oh, dear no 1" replied Augusta. " I 
 should hope not ! but when he came near her 
 he was so unspeakably tender." 
 
 " riddle de dee ! why my Lucy is a baby 
 yet!" 
 
 " Babies of sixteen are sometimes dangerous 
 to young men's hearts. But hush, Phil, not a 
 word !" she added, placing her finger on her 
 lips, "here comes Lucy !" 
 
 Presh and fair as ever, with very Httle 
 weariness in her eyes she came in, as she 
 always did, hke a beam of hght to the room. 
 She went directly up to her father, and he 
 pulled her down on his knee, quite gently 
 though — who was not gentle with Lucy ? 
 He put his arm round her, and she laid one 
 arm round his neck, and the other hung down, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 SO that the dogs on the hearth-rug came and 
 Ucked the small fair hand. 
 
 " And to my rose bud, my lily of the valley, 
 my queen violet, I wish — oh, such a New 
 Year !" said the Sq.uire," I've wished it before, 
 many a year, and wish it again, aye, and hope 
 to do it again and again. Such a New Year ! 
 something uncommon, that all the sunshine 
 may shine on you, and all the clouds keep off 
 you ! and whenever you marry, may your 
 husband only love you as much as your old 
 father does, my dear little Lucy bird !" then 
 the Squire commenced kissing her again and 
 again, and between each kiss he would pause, 
 and look at that cloudless face, as if he read 
 sweet lessons from her pure brow ; and when, 
 at last, he found tears stealing over his sun- 
 burnt cheek, he put her off his knee, and 
 rubbing his hand hastily across his face, told 
 her : " There, go and have your breakfast, my 
 heart's delight !" After that the Squire took 
 up the paper and seemed lost in its perusal, 
 but in truth it was not so ; for he was think- 
 ing of his child — Then suddenly the door 
 swung on its old hinges, and this time in
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 219 
 
 entered Maude, and behind her was Archer. 
 Maude was very radiant, and wished lots of 
 " happy New Years" in her very meriy voice ; 
 and her father called her his beauty, and 
 Maude said lots of impertinent things to her 
 aunt and uncle ; and there was plenty of 
 talking, but Archer was silent, for he thought 
 much of the Lady Flora. What business had 
 Archer to think of the Lady Flora? more 
 especially, if his thoughts were tender ones ? 
 And they were tender, aye, the softest thoughts 
 that had ever entered that worldly heart ! But 
 why did they tarry? Had not the Lady 
 Flora been for more than twelve months 
 the betrothed of Lord Glendowan? Yes, 
 Archer knew that, he knew everything — but 
 Lord Glendowan was no obstacle to him ; he 
 loved the Lady Flora ! And did her look tell 
 false ? Did her tremblinsc voice tell false ? 
 She did not love Lord Glendowan ! ah, the 
 eagle eyes saw^ that at a glance ! What 
 recked he the betrothal ring ? What cared he 
 for promises of mutual love ? All that should 
 be forgotten. He, Archer, the proud pre- 
 smnptuous man, would win the Lady Flora, 
 put forth his utmost powers, and shine so 
 
 L 2
 
 220 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 brightly in her drooping eyes, as to outshine 
 all else ! 
 
 " Well, Archer, old fellow ! and who smote 
 your heart last night?" asked the Squire, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " No one," Archer replied, as unconcernedly 
 as if it were the truth. 
 
 " No one ? Well you are a strong fellow ! I 
 saw flowers and ribbons enough, let alone 
 white arms, to strike even an old widower 
 like me, if I had not long ago made over my 
 heart to these insinuating girls of mine !" 
 
 " Oh ! Archer is terribly proof against all 
 attractions," said Augusta, " and I suppose it 
 is a good thing for me." 
 
 " Why, Auntie ?" asked Maude. 
 
 " Because Aunt Augusta likes to play first 
 fiddle, and if there were a Mrs. Archer in 
 the case, she would have to give over the 
 keys to her — do you see, Maude ?" said the 
 Squire. 
 
 Maude laughed, and so did Augusta. 
 
 " Then you would not like Uncle Archer to 
 marry ?" observed Lucy. 
 
 " No ! not till after I am married myself," 
 replied Augusta, carelessly.
 
 LUCI AYLMER. 221 
 
 " I suppose Uncle Archer must ask your 
 permission, Auntie, when he sees the lady ?" 
 said Maude, archly. 
 
 " Impertinent child !" exclaimed Augusta 
 smiling. " Maude, you are dreadfuUy spoiled." 
 
 " Auntie !" Maude added suddenly with a 
 mischievous smile. " How did you hke Lady 
 Anne ?" 
 
 " Not at all : she is an odious creature, so 
 prim and stiff and would-be-good !" 
 
 Maude burst out lauo-hino;. 
 
 " It was capital fun last night, Auntie, to 
 watch you two whenever you came together. 
 If her Ladyship was proud. Miss Neville was 
 prouder ! You looked as if you were trying 
 which could show the most nonchalance and 
 cool contempt for the other." 
 
 '' You become worse and worse, I declare, 
 Maude !" said her Aunt, while the Squire 
 seemed to enjoy Maude's description, and even 
 Archer could not forbear smiling. 
 
 " And how did you enjoy yourself, my quiet 
 little Lucy ?" asked her Aunt. 
 
 " Oh very much !" replied Lucy, in a 
 tone there was no mistaking for pleasur- 
 able.
 
 222 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " And what caused you so much enjoy- 
 ment ?" continued Augusta, with a searching 
 look. 
 
 " I do not know," Lucy repKed, " I have 
 not yet asked myself that question. I think I 
 am generally happy, Aunt Augusta." 
 
 "But there are degrees of happiness as 
 well as degrees of sorrow," said Augusta ; 
 " and having more pleasure at one time than 
 at another, must depend upon some circum- 
 stance ?" 
 
 Lucy looked rather puzzled. "Perhaps I 
 enjoyed it because it was new," she replied, 
 after a moment's pause. " I have often heard 
 you say, Aunt Augusta, that novelty charms." 
 
 " Capital ! little Lu answering Auntie in 
 her own coin !" exclaimed her father. "Come 
 Augusta," he added, "our Lucy bird has 
 no confessions to make ; you need not press 
 her so hard !" 
 
 " Have you formed any plans for the day, 
 Phil ?" asked Archer, as he rose and looked 
 out on the lawn. 
 
 " Plans, my good fellow ? None whatever ! 
 I am your servant to command ; say the
 
 LITCY ATLMER. 223 
 
 word, and Phil Neville's your man 1" The 
 Squire rose up and looked out of the window 
 with his brother. 
 
 " A hard frost and plenty of blue in the 
 sky ! suppose we ride ?" said Archer listlessly. 
 
 '' The very thing !" exclaimed the Squire ; 
 " come and choose your horse." The two 
 brothers walked towards the door when the 
 Squire tmiied back suddenly with, " Bless 
 me, we've forgotten the ladies !" 
 
 " Oh, pray do not trouble yourself about 
 us, Phil ! Lady Pairfield sends her pony chair 
 over this morning : she has no use for it this 
 cold season, and has made it over to me during 
 my stay." 
 
 " Why then," said the Squire, " if that's 
 the way the wind blows, and seeing you and 
 Lucy have got a little trap to carry you about, 
 why can't Maude give the old pony some 
 work, and come with us. Wliat do you say 
 to a ride, eh, Maude ?" 
 
 " I should enjoy it above all things, papa !" 
 exclaimed Maude gleefully ; and without 
 further delay Maude skipped off to prepare. 
 In less than half an hour afterwards, the
 
 224 LUCl ATLMER. 
 
 Squire and Archer, both well mounted, and 
 Maude, on a white pony, were trotting slowly 
 down one of the steep Arminster hills. There 
 was a hard ringing frost; and the smooth 
 well beaten high road sparkled as if spangled 
 with numberless tiny diamonds ; and the sun 
 shone so brilliantly from such an azure sky, 
 that despite the cold air and leafless trees, 
 it gave almost the impression of summer. 
 The tall horses, linked in their long lines to 
 the heavily laden waggons trading to and from 
 Bristol, wore a drowsy look as they slowly 
 trod to the low, jingling music of their own 
 bells ; and the drivers jogging along by the 
 side of their team, or reclining on the mer- 
 chandise, seemed as though overcome by the 
 bright burst from the heavens : even a solitary 
 and pecuHarly ugly donkey, grazing in a field, 
 took a sudden fit of freshness as the riders 
 passed, and went capering and frisking round 
 and round his meadow, throwing up his legs 
 and elevating his tail most joyfully, as if to 
 testify, by the only means in his power, the 
 deUght he felt in the beautiful sunUght. The 
 weather was so gladsome, that Maude irrre-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 225 
 
 sistibly burst forth into singing, as she rode 
 along, a song, with the opening words, 
 " There is sunKght in Heaven !" 
 
 " And on the earth, too, and everywhere !" 
 interrupted the Squire. ''Heigho, Archer, 
 old boy ! see what a fine thing it is to live in 
 the country. You don't get such sights as 
 these, not even in your boasted Hyde 
 Park ?" 
 
 "No, indeed, none of this,'' replied Archer, 
 as his eagle eyes glanced far on before him 
 — what could he be looking so intently for ? 
 
 The Squire gave him credit for admiring 
 the country, so he called out : 
 
 " Ah ! look while you may — there is a 
 valley for you, forty miles, and more ! I 
 would rather have one hill here, than all 
 your great city put together." 
 
 Abusing London was a favourite subject 
 with the Squire, quite a hobby. Archer knew 
 this, so he only smiled in silence. 
 
 " Nothing preserves a man so well as good, 
 fresh air," persisted the dogmatical Squire, 
 " it keeps ofi" grey hair and wrinkles." 
 
 Archer smiled again, thinking his brother 
 rather a bore, and almost feeling contempt for 
 
 L 8
 
 226 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 what he considered a foolish fondness for his 
 native place. 
 
 Squire Neville's rhapsodies were put a stop 
 to, however, by Maude exclaiming : 
 
 " There is Robert a good way on before 
 us. Papa, shall we have a race and overtake 
 him?" 
 
 Robert was riding a horse Erresford had 
 lent him, and riding slowly, so that Maude, 
 who was first, soon got nearly up to him ; and 
 then the sound of her swift pony's feet, on 
 the hard road, caused him to look round, and 
 seeing her, he stopped. 
 
 '' Ah ! give in, you are pm'sued, old fellow !" 
 shouted the Squire, who was close behind. 
 
 " I surrender," replied Robert laughing ; 
 " why, Maude, it is an age since I have seen 
 you mounted !" 
 
 " It is so delightful !" she exclaimed, breath- 
 lessly, " come, papa, do let us walk steadily 
 for a little way." 
 
 " What ! done for so soon, Missey ! I 
 thought you were a brave rider ?" 
 
 " Oh, papa, I assure you I am quite ready 
 for another race if you wish it : only I want to 
 talk a little to Robert."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 227 
 
 " About the ball, eh ? I thought we picked 
 that subject threadbare at breakfast ; but never 
 mind, begin again !" 
 
 "I have nothing to begin upon, papa," 
 said Maude laughing. " I want to know 
 where Robert is going." 
 
 " I was meditating a ride to Arminster," he 
 replied, " but it is of no consequence, another 
 day will do as well." 
 
 " But why alter your plans for us ?" asked 
 Archer. 
 
 " Oh ! my plans are quite unimportant," 
 Robert answered. 
 
 " If they are so unimportant, I am curious 
 to know what they can be," said Maude. 
 
 " I wanted to look in on Tapley, the new 
 organ-builder," Robert replied, rather hesita- 
 tingly. 
 
 " Bless my stars ! what do you want at 
 Tapley 's ?" exclaimed the Squire " Are your 
 pockets so heavy, that you must needs lighten 
 them by presenting Forsted with an organ ?" 
 
 " We require one badly enough," replied 
 Roberta 
 
 " It would be vastly in the way, if you 
 managed to get it in, which I feel disposed to
 
 228 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 question," said the Squire ; '* besides Forsted 
 would not be Forsted without its fiddle and 
 bassoon. I am sure we sing well enough." 
 
 " Do you think so ? to my ears the singing 
 sounds execrable," answered Robert, warmly. 
 
 " Oh ! you young Oxford gentlemen have 
 such fine ears," said the Squire, good humour- 
 edly. 
 
 Robert looked appealingly to Archer. 
 
 " Did you not think our singing very bad ?" 
 
 " There was too little of it to offend me," 
 Archer replied. 
 
 " I wish we could have more," said Robert, 
 '' two psalms ill performed, make the singing, 
 in pubHc worship, a mockery." 
 
 " Oh ! do not introduce a quantity of chaunt- 
 ing, Robert ! it will make the service so long," 
 exclaimed Maude. 
 
 Robert shook his head at her with a re- 
 proachful smile. 
 
 '' Then I must not count upon your assist- 
 ance, when I organize a choir, Maude ?" 
 
 " It is not in my line," she replied, laughing, 
 " but what new proceeding are you going to 
 start in St. Walburga ?" 
 
 " None, at present, Maude."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 229 
 
 " And none ever, I hope," exclaimed the 
 Squire. " You may depend, Robert, the best 
 way to make yourself popular, is to let our 
 old-fashioned ways alone. If we don't have 
 things so fine here as at Oxford, just overlook 
 that, take us as you find us — but don't play 
 new games here ; because, if you do, as sure 
 as you are alive, you will make dissenters, and 
 then, when once you set up divisions, you 
 have spoiled old Forsted !" 
 
 Robert did not like to think hard things of 
 his father's friend, but he could not help say- 
 ing to himself — 
 
 " What ignorance ! just because I talked of 
 looking at an organ, to fancy I shall make 
 dissenters !" and Robert remained silent. 
 
 "You are not offended. Bob, old boy?" 
 said the Squire, drawing his horse close along 
 side of Robert's. " You know I am a plain 
 fellow, and speak my mind pretty freely." 
 
 " I admire you for it," said Robert, " and I 
 assure you. Sir, I never become offended with 
 any one because he does not entertain the same 
 opinions as myself." 
 
 "That's right !" replied the Squire, "now
 
 230 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 give up this organ business, and dine with us 
 to-day. It will be like old times to begin the 
 new year with you, Robert." 
 
 " It will give me far more pleasure to dine 
 with you, than to ride alone to Arminster," said 
 Robert, warmly. Then, as if by way of apology, 
 he added, "I assure you I was not going 
 organ-hunting on my own account ; but Lady 
 Anne asked me to ascertain the probable ex- 
 pense of one, and I like to obHge Erresford's 
 sisters." 
 
 ** So her stiff Ladyship is going to present 
 us with an organ, eh ?" said the Squire. 
 
 " I cannot say that exactly, but between 
 ourselves, I think it is not unlikely," replied 
 Robert. 
 
 " Bother her meddling face !" burst forth 
 the Squire indignantly. 
 
 Maude and Robert laughed, and Archer 
 said — 
 
 " I thought the organ discussion was over?" 
 
 " So it was," replied the Squire, " but that 
 meddling Lady Anne ! I wish she would let us 
 alone?" 
 
 " Let St. Walburga, alone, you mean, papa,"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 231 
 
 said Maude, " but I do not think that is 
 Hkely. What do you say to her working a 
 chancel carpet in Lent ?" 
 
 " Doing what ?" asked the Squire. " AMiy 
 we have just had a new carpet, haven't we ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but Lady Anne told Auntie, that it 
 is too plain — her carpet is to be all covered 
 with crosses, I saw the pattern on her table 
 the other day." 
 
 " But you will see the trumpery is not put 
 down when it is worked, eh, Robert ?" said 
 the Squire. 
 
 '' I cannot quarrel with Lady Anne," was 
 Robert's reply. 
 
 " Quarrel ! no, who wants you to do that ? 
 But you are not going to stick any finery the 
 women choose to give you into the church ?" 
 
 " Oh ! trust me. Sir," said Robert, smiling 
 at Mr. Neville's vehemence. " St. Walburga 
 shall be always dressed in good taste." 
 
 " The less dressing in the church the bet- 
 ter," replied the Squire. " Let us have things 
 plain, and not like a parcel of Papists !" 
 
 " Papa is dreadfully afraid of you, Robert," 
 observed Maude laughing. 
 
 " No, no," said Robert, " I understand Mr.
 
 232 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Neville perfectly. There is much that is extreme 
 going on just now, and your father does not 
 like it — but you need not be afraid, I am a 
 thorough churchman, and no tampcrer with 
 Rome." 
 
 " Well said, Bob !" exclaimed the Squire. 
 " I am not afraid of you, old boy ! Now for 
 another race, who will be first to the maiden 
 beech tree ? Now^ Maude, off with you — I'll 
 back you against the parson !" 
 
 And thus good-humouredly passed off 
 Robert's first church discussion with the 
 Squire. It terminated in a pleasant dinner and 
 evening at the old Manor, where he played at 
 draughts in a quiet corner with Lucy, and 
 sang the bass in some glees which Augusta 
 and the girls tried over. He was so amiable 
 and obhging, that Augusta began to like him ; 
 and the evening ended with an invitation to 
 May Fair, whenever he should visit town.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 233 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I ^as, indeed, awake, and heard with awe 
 
 The roar of elements 
 
 It was a fearful night. 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 Some days after, the weather set in wild and 
 stormy, as if all the T\qnd3 from all quarters 
 had joined in concert to work as much mischief 
 as within them lay. And together, they made 
 such a hurricane, as had not been known for 
 many a year. The roar and clash of the ocean, 
 some miles off, might almost be heard from 
 Worsted, — and on land there was such a howl- 
 ing and tearing among the trees, that to hsten 
 in the silent night, you would fancy there 
 would not be a branch left by the morning. 
 This, however, was only fancy, though several
 
 234 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 fine trees were very much injured, and among 
 tliem, the Countess's favourite, a Cedar of 
 Lebanon, which stood just outside the hbrary 
 window, and whose largest branch hung on 
 the ground, carrying down with it many 
 lesser ones in its fall. The Countess put on 
 her bonnet immediately breakfast was over, 
 and went out with the head gardener, to 
 inquire into the state of the injured tree. 
 
 " It will never look fit for anything now ; it 
 must come down,'' she said, after a long 
 investigation. " This wind must have done 
 considerable injury." 
 
 *'It has made sad work at the IManor 
 House, your Ladyship," the gardener replied. 
 
 " How ?" asked the Countess, " what has 
 happened, Forbes ?" 
 
 " A stack of chimneys fell in, your Ladyship, 
 and the roof and part of the outer wall of the 
 left wing have given way." 
 
 " I ought to have heard of this before," 
 observed the Countess. Then directing the 
 gardener to consult Mr. Erresford about the 
 tree, and ascertaining no one was hurt by the 
 fall at the Manor, she went in and ordered her 
 carriage to be ready immediately, to drive her
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 235 
 
 to Mr. Neville's. The old lady liked an 
 excitement, and, moreover, she thought the 
 beauty of an excitement was to have it all to 
 herself : so she told no one, but went alone to 
 the Manor, in a high state of satisfaction with 
 herself, for her neighbourly conduct. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock, but they had only just 
 got breakfast at the Squire's. Both the 
 dining-room and lil^rary had suffered from the 
 falling in of the wall, so the family ^vere all 
 located in the dra^ving-room, and looked any- 
 thing but comfortable. 
 
 Poor Lucy, who had been terribly frightened 
 by the noise and crash in the night, looked 
 pale and ill, and was taking her breakfast close 
 to the fire, on a low stool, with a chair for her 
 table. 
 
 The Squire, who had breakfasted some 
 hours before, was sitting by Lucy's side, 
 trying to tempt her into an appetite. Maude, 
 whom nothing ever frightened or disturbed, 
 was telling how she was awakened by such an 
 odd noise, and how she expected every part of 
 the house would have come down, as if no 
 one had heard anything but herself. Augusta, 
 who had been robbed of half her night's rest,
 
 236 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 looked wearied and cross; and Archer was 
 reminding his brother, how often he had 
 warned him that this falling in would take 
 place, if he neglected the repairs so long : to 
 which the Squire replied, it could not be 
 helped, and the only thing to be done now, 
 was to have it mended. 
 
 " It is not patching and mending this house 
 requires, but thorough good repairs — ^you may 
 depend if you consult an architect, he will 
 tell you so." 
 
 Archer's advice seemed to exhaust him, for 
 he refreshed himself with a great deal of 
 coffee afterwards. 
 
 " Bother take your architects !" exclaimed 
 the Squire. " Come, Lucy bird, I did not 
 know you would take anything so much to 
 heart. Cheer up, little woman, the house did 
 not fall on any of us !" 
 
 '•' No, papa, I am not frightened now," and 
 she laid her head wearily on her father's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Why, it is a very silly little woman !" and 
 the Squii*e put his arm coaxingly round his 
 Lucy ; "I shall have to send you to town 
 w4th Aunt Augusta, to learn how to bear ex-
 
 LTJCY AYLMER. 237 
 
 citement." He looked more lovingly at her 
 than before, and as if nothing should ever 
 make him part with her, 
 
 "If vou sent the orirls to town with me, 
 Phil, you would be doing a very sensible 
 thing ;" said iVugusta, rousing herself. 
 
 " A very sensible thing !" echoed the Squire, 
 measuring his words slowly, and glancmg at 
 his sister with a mischievous smile. 
 
 Augusta took no notice of this. " It is a 
 perfect shame," she continued, " to bury their 
 talents in this remote little nook. Lucy has a 
 very sweet voice; but it will never be any 
 pleasure either to herself or others, unless it is 
 cultivated — and there are no singing masters 
 here. Maude would make quite a linguist, if 
 she had opportunities of study ; but if she never 
 move from Forsted, she will not even have a 
 correct accent in French." 
 
 " Tut, tut !" said the Squire, " do you 
 think my Lucy bird here would be a bit 
 happier if she sang like your famous Miss Lind, 
 or Maude be as merry if her poor head were 
 crammed with foreign grammars ?" 
 
 Augusta gave a little vexed laugh. " I do
 
 238 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 not think you would care, Phil, if the girls 
 were as ignorant as milkmaids." 
 
 " They are clever enough," replied the good- 
 tempered Squire. 
 
 " Really, Phil, you will not let one have the 
 satisfaction of being angry with you," said 
 Augusta leaning back in her chair. 
 
 " Oh, here is a carriage !" exclaimed Maude 
 starting up. 
 
 " Lady De Walden ! — Wliat in the name of 
 fortune does she want at this unearthly hour ?" 
 said Augusta. 
 
 " And in such a mess !" added Maude, who 
 appeared possessed with a sudden fit of neat- 
 ness ; for she aimed at every one's cup, and 
 hurried them all together, so that the Squire 
 called out, "I say, Maude, what are you 
 after ?" and Archer, who received some coffee 
 on a neat plan of alterations he was drawing 
 in his pocket-book, exclaimed in a low tone, 
 " little fool !" The words seemed to be meant 
 for the Countess, who came in at that 
 very moment unannounced, and wonderfully 
 cordial. 
 
 "We are in an odd state to receive your
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 239 
 
 Ladyship, but the fact is, the wind took to 
 playing pranks in the night, and blew us all 
 out of our beds, with the roof tumbhng about 
 us," said the Squire, who was never put out by 
 anything. 
 
 '' Do come near the fire. Lady De Walden, 
 if you can get to it," said Augusta, who the 
 grander her guests, the grander was her 
 demeanour towards them. 
 
 " Oh ! pray let me sit anywhere," replied the 
 Countess, accommodating herself on a sofa ; 
 and then taking a survey of the room, as if to 
 ascertain the walls would not come down 
 about her head, she continued : "I could not 
 rest till I had come over and ascertained the 
 real state of the mischief your house had 
 sustained, and really it looks very appalling to 
 see the walls lying in ruins." 
 
 "It is very good of your Ladyship to visit 
 us in our tumble-down state," said the Squii'e. 
 " However, in a few weeks I hope we shall be 
 all straight again." 
 
 " A few weeks, Mr. Neville !" exclaimed the 
 Countess. " They must be very skilful workmen 
 who could repair this damage in so short a time." 
 
 " Your Ladyship's opinion coincides with
 
 240 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 my own," said Archer, who was adding to his 
 plan an estimate of expenses. 
 
 " When once workmen enter this house, 
 they will find plenty to be done, besides re- 
 pairing the damages of last night," said 
 Augusta. " There is not a room or passage 
 which does not require lathe or plaister to 
 keep it whole. Your ladyship cannot possibly 
 have an idea how crazy the house is." 
 
 " My brother and sister are such fine folks !'' 
 remarked the Squire laughing. "They must 
 have everything new and town-like, or else it 
 does not please them." 
 
 " Absurd '."murmured Augusta, ''but surely, 
 my dear Phil, there is no sense in building up 
 one wing and leaving the rest in such a state, 
 that the next puff of wind will blow it all 
 down ?" 
 
 The Countess looked around the room 
 again : the paper was worn and discoloured, 
 and the ceiling looked yellow and blotted. 
 " I think there is great truth in what Miss 
 Neville says," she remarked. " It is much the 
 better plan to have alterations concluded all at 
 one time, than perpetually to see a succession 
 of repairs going on."
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 241 
 
 The Squire smiled, and said good-humour- 
 edly, " well, your Ladyship, I suppose I must 
 see about it." 
 
 " And in the meantime," continued the 
 Countess, "I hope you will m^ke the Castle 
 your home. It is impossible for you to con- 
 tinue here, in this state of discomfort." 
 
 " Your Ladyship is very good," "replied the 
 Squire, "but there are plenty of rooms yet, 
 quite sound and whole." 
 
 " Still the inconvenience would be great — 
 workmen in and out all day, and open doors 
 and draughts, you would all be invalids through 
 influenza, by the time the house was restored ! 
 Indeed," the Countess added, " the thing is 
 impossible." 
 
 "I have been endeavouring to persuade 
 my brother to allow my nieces to return to 
 town with me," said Augusta. 
 
 " That will be a very good plan hereafter," 
 replied the Countess, " but for the present, 
 do not think of it, I must have you all at 
 Castle St. Agnes." 
 
 Maude hoped her father would consent. A 
 few weeks at the Castle would be charming ! 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 LUCr AYLMER. 
 
 Lucy, however, preferred the quiet of home, 
 except that she would see more of Lady Mora, 
 to whom she felt quite attached. But the 
 Countess was so pressing in her hospitalities 
 that the Squire found no way of escape, even 
 had he wished it. There was the least 
 possible gleam of triumph in Archer's eyes, 
 as the Countess De Walden drove away to 
 prepare her family for their reception. Archer 
 was thinking how he would be thrown with 
 the Lady Plora ! 
 
 Had the honourable-minded Squire guessed 
 what Avas passing in the mind of his brother, 
 would he not have undergone any incon- 
 venience, any discomfort, rather than that a 
 member of his family should betray the 
 Countess's hospitality, and bring sorrow and 
 discord within the walls of Castle St. Agnes ? 
 
 Mr. Neville had plenty of friends besides 
 the noble lady at the Castle : any one of his 
 hunting companions would have turned out 
 of doors to accommodate the Squire's family ; 
 and no less than three farmers had already 
 ridden over to the Manor, to offer their ser- 
 vices, for the Squire was a favourite all the
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 243 
 
 neighbourhood round. Robert Aylmer came 
 in soon after the Countess had left, to place the 
 Parsonage at their disposal. How gladly would 
 he have taken them all in, and how glad to 
 feel that through the bounty of his beloved 
 patron, he was in a position, to repay, in some 
 measure, the kindness of the Squire, his 
 father's old friend ! But the Countess had 
 anticipated him. She had not half such a good 
 heart as the young clergyman, but she had 
 more energy and promptitude ; and, therefore, 
 it happened, she was not so often disappointed. 
 
 The Squire and Archer were somewhere 
 among the ruins, and Augusta and Maude 
 were packing and making arrangements for 
 their departure, and when Robert came into 
 the drawing-room, he found Lucy alone, lying 
 back in an easy chair by the fire. She rose as 
 he entered, exclaiming — 
 
 " Oh ! Robert, I am so glad you have come. 
 Papa was beginning to thmk you had deserted 
 us." 
 
 " But you knew me better, Lucy," he said, 
 as he gently and playfully replaced her in her 
 arm-chair. 
 
 " I imagined something had prevented you," 
 
 M 2
 
 244 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 she replied, as she rested her fair cheek on 
 her hand. 
 
 " I put off some parochial visits yesterday, 
 and found myself obliged to pay them this 
 morning : some sick people had sent for me." 
 
 '' You must tell papa this, Robert, for he 
 does not like to think you forget us." 
 
 " "Forget you !" he exclaimed, earnestly ; 
 " your father cannot surely imagine it for a 
 moment ?" 
 
 " Do not look so grave, Robert," said Lucy, 
 with a sweet, languid smile ; " papa likes you 
 next to us, and he is disappointed if he does 
 not see you often," 
 
 " I must make my peace with him," rephed 
 Robert ; " but, dear Lucy, you look so ill, it 
 quite grieves me ! Were you so very much 
 alarmed last night ?" 
 
 " Yes, very, very much," replied Lucy, 
 " and it made my heart beat so, I thought it 
 would never stop." 
 
 " Poor, dear Lucy 1" said Robert, and he 
 stroked gently the fair, small hand, that rested 
 on her elbow chair. " They were sworn brother 
 and sister to the end of time !" The Squire 
 had said so, and it seemed probable, for Lucy
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 245 
 
 looked up with a smile at Robert, as if it 
 were the most natural thing in the world, he 
 should stroke her hand and call her " dear 
 Lucy !" 
 
 " You cannot think how terrible it was !" she 
 continued. " We were all asleep, and it was 
 quite dark, there came such a dreadful crash ! 
 I thought directly of papa, but it was not at 
 his end of the house — the chimneys fell just 
 over your old room. You recollect that crack 
 down the wall that Robins would not put any 
 mortar to, because he said it was lucky ? Well, 
 Robert, directly the chimneys feU, that gave 
 way quite down to the library. I thought we 
 should all be killed ; but INIaude was so 
 courageous, I do believe I should have died 
 with fear, if it had not been for Maude !" 
 
 " Then we must retiun Maude a vote of 
 thanks for keeping you alive, Lucy-bird !" said 
 Robert gaily. 
 
 " I am a sad coward, Robert," continued 
 Lucy, rather mournfully, "for I could not 
 even speak till I knew papa was safe. He 
 came to our room directly the crash and noise 
 were over — for none of us dared move till 
 then : no one knew what part of the house
 
 246 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 would come down next — it was such a dread- 
 ful time, Robert !" 
 
 " I can perfectly imagine it, dear Lucy, but 
 it is all over now." 
 
 "Papa tells me so also, but it seems to 
 haunt me." 
 
 " My poor Lucy ! what can I do for you ?" 
 said Robert, coaxingly. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, thank you, Robert," then 
 she added, after a moment's silence. " We are 
 going to Castle St. Agnes by and by." 
 
 " What for ?" asked Robert. 
 
 " Lady De Walden has asked us all to stay 
 tiU the poor old house is repaired." 
 
 Robert looked very much disappointed. 
 
 " I am so sorry," he exclaimed. " I am too 
 late as usual !" Lucy looked up enquiringly. 
 " I came to offer my parsonage to you all," 
 he continued, " it would have been such a 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Never mind, Robert," said Lucy, in her 
 turn becoming comforter, " you can often see 
 us at Castle St. Agnes — ^you are so veiy inti- 
 mate with Mr. Erresford." 
 
 " Seeing you under CeciFs roof, is not the 
 same as having you under my own." Robert
 
 LUCy AYLMER. 247 
 
 was mortified, because he saw tlie fault was 
 his. If, instead of wasting away two whole 
 hours in indecision on the previous afternoon, 
 he had visited his sick parishioners, the morn- 
 ing would have been his own ; and had he 
 come early, no doubt he would have secured 
 the Nevilles as his guests. He did not msh 
 them to go to the Castle. When there, Lucy 
 must necessarily be much with Cecil Erres- 
 ford — Cecil was handsome and more attractive 
 than his protege. Robert knew this, and 
 dreaded its influence over Lucy, his dear, dear 
 sister ! and something more she was to him — 
 yes, from a sister she had grown into the one 
 dear object of his life. 
 
 " Lady De Walden thinks it will take a 
 very long time before the house is fit to re- 
 ceive us again," said Lucy, with a sigh. 
 
 " Then I should not wonder if Miss Neville 
 were to take you to town," replied Robert. 
 
 " Oh, I hope not !" exclaimed Lucy ; " the 
 poor, dear old house !" she added, a slight 
 shade of sorrow in her tone, "I am so sorry 
 it must be altered." 
 
 '' Why altered ?" asked Robert. 
 
 " Uncle Archer thinks so."
 
 248 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Why, Lucy, you appear quite sad, so un- 
 like your usual self." 
 
 " I did not mean to be so," replied Lucy, 
 " but last night seems like an uncomfortable 
 dream. I have loved the old house so long, 
 and imagined it would always stand just the 
 same." 
 
 "And there is no occasion for it to be 
 altered," said Robert, " only rendered strong 
 and secure. If it would not fatigue you, Lucy, 
 we might go and find your father. I think the 
 air will revive you, what say you, dear Lucy ?" 
 
 "Yes, Robert, I will come," she rose 
 slowly ; and they went away together into the 
 ruins, Lucy's arm linked in his, and he 
 feeling proud and happy. 
 
 The Squire readily accepted Robert's 
 apologies, seemed pleased at his invitation 
 to the parsonage, and in answer to Robert's 
 expressions of disappointment, replied — 
 
 " Never mind, Robert, we will knock down 
 another wing on purpose to come and stay 
 with the Parson. I know my girls would have 
 liked it ; and if this mending is to be about as 
 long as my good friends predict, we shall tire 
 the Countess's patience and come to you yet."
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 249 
 
 " If you do not go to London," remarked 
 Robert. 
 
 " As if that is likely," said the Squire. " I 
 shall be wanted here on the spot to look 
 after the men and keep them up to their 
 work." 
 
 "A kind of master-bricklayer," observed 
 Archer, who was standing with his arms 
 folded behind him. 
 
 " Oh, you are too fine !"' said the Squire, 
 "pretty havoc I shall have with my place, 
 if I do not keep my eye tolerably sharp upon 
 it!" • 
 
 "Well, there is nothing to be done yet," 
 added Archer, walking away, and casting as 
 he went, a furtive glance at Lucy leaning still 
 on Robert's arm. 
 
 " I want to walk round the grounds," Lucy 
 said, as her father was called away to speak 
 with a groom. "Will you come, Robert? 
 I could not go without taking one look at our 
 old haunts." 
 
 " Come then, dear Lucy, but you must not 
 look on this place, as if you were never to see 
 it again." 
 
 " Oh ! I do not feel that, RobertJ only I 
 
 M 3
 
 250 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 may never see it as it is now — the workmen 
 will trample down the gardens — I know they 
 will not be able to help it/' and she turned 
 round with a sweet smile to Robert, who was 
 looking at her. 
 
 They went across the hall, where Lucy 
 equipped herself in an old bonnet and shawl, 
 and then out by a back door into the garden. 
 The wind was blowing quite a hurricane still ; 
 it sent the white clouds fast before it, and 
 left spaces of deep, lovely blue sky, where the 
 sunshine came. 
 
 " The wind is giving us sunshine to make 
 amends for the dangerous frolics of last 
 night," said Robert. '' and I declare, Lucy, it 
 has brought quite a colour to your cheeks." 
 
 " I have to thank you, Robert, for bringing 
 me out," she replied. " I do so love the fresh 
 air : papa always calls it the best medicine." 
 
 " I wonder what you will do with yourself 
 at the Castle, Lucy," Robert said. 
 
 " I cannot tell. I shall try and keep with 
 Maude, and," she added, " with Lady 
 Mora." 
 
 "Poor girl!" ejaculated Robert. 
 
 "' Do you mean me ?" asked Lucy laugh-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 251 
 
 ing : she was fast recovering her spirits with 
 Robert. 
 
 " You ! what an idea, Httle Lu !" and 
 Robert laughed also. 
 
 " I wish there were some flowers out/' said 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Shall I try to find you one ?" asked 
 Robert. 
 
 " Oh, you cannot !" Lucy replied. 
 
 " You challenge me now, Lucy. Whht will 
 you give me, if I do ?" 
 
 " I will see when you have found it," and 
 again Lucy laughed. 
 
 The garden looked chill and drear ; the earth 
 was clodded and hard in the flower beds, and 
 shrubberies — and in the kitchen garden, the 
 forcing frames and hand glasses were almost 
 sunk in straw. Lucy and Robert went 
 slowly along the walks, the one still clinging 
 trustingly to the other's arm. They both 
 looked very happy, very untouched by the 
 world, as they sought so carefully for a flower. 
 Now and then Robert- would dart fonvard 
 with an exclamation of triumph, and find 
 what he fancied a crocus or snow-di-op, only 
 a withered leaf, or piece of white cotton.
 
 252 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 strayed and blown away from some window 
 by the wind. 
 
 Lucy laughed with a child-like glee at his 
 mistakes ; and Robert was so delighted with 
 her soft, sweet mirth, that he added to his 
 hunts after imaginary flowers, just to call forth 
 her blithe voice and smile. There was not a 
 flower in the shrubberies or borders. Robert 
 was, at length, forced to give up, and then 
 they went round the kitchen garden to take 
 what Lucy would persist in calling — a last 
 look. The white masses of cloud had been 
 blown together in one spot, till they formed a 
 perfect mountain in the heavens, and obscured 
 the sunbeams partially for some moments ; 
 then suddenly, the whole snowy mass moved 
 slowly along, and the sun laughed on the 
 earth once more. Lucy and Robert had been 
 watching it with admiration, till the light 
 shone upon their faces, and caused them to 
 look away ; when all at once, Robert dropped 
 Lucy's arm, and darted forward, exclaiming, 
 " lo triumphe ! sweet Lucy, you are van- 
 quished !" he knelt on one knee by the sunny 
 side of a forcing frame; Lucy came up to 
 him, and with her hands folded, looked down,
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 253 
 
 and then she saw a sweet white snow- drop, 
 bending on its slender green stem. He 
 picked it gently, and placed it in her hand — 
 she held it there, and cast on it her loving 
 eyes — Robert rose, saying : 
 
 "There, Lucy, what will you give me 
 now ?" 
 
 " Oh, it is so beautiful ! I ought to give you 
 another flower in return — dear little mnter 
 thing 1" Lucy pressed it to her lips ; " flowers 
 are such companions to me, I love them like 
 sisters," she said. 
 
 "What will you do with it?" Robert 
 asked. 
 
 " Keep it always," she replied." " I shall 
 put it in water, and when it fades, I shall 
 seal it up, oh, so carefully ! in a paper 
 shroud." 
 
 " In remembrance of our walk, Lucy ?" 
 
 " Yes, and because I love the flower, too ! 
 Do you know, Robert," she said, gravely, as 
 they walked on, " I sometimes think, after we 
 are dead, how strange and trifling our little 
 treasures must be to those who remain 
 behind — faded flowers, scraps of favomite
 
 254 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 poetry, and 'ittle locks of hair !" she looked 
 up expecting an answer. 
 
 '' How came you to think of such dismal 
 things, Lucy?" said Robert, seriously. 
 
 "Oh! I think of many such things,'' she 
 replied, " and they do not make me dismal." 
 
 They did apparently make Robert think so, 
 for he turned almost abruptly the conversation 
 back to the flower, and said : 
 
 " I must have some remembrance of this 
 walk. What shall it be, Lucy ?" 
 
 She looked around, and then said : 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 The bonnet Lucy wore, was a very old 
 one, and on one side a little piece of ribbon 
 hung down, only attached by a thread. 
 Robert very quietly jerked this off. 
 
 " Here is my trophy, Lucy !" he exclaimed, 
 then, folding it up carefully, he put it in his 
 pocket-book. He had forgotten all about 
 Cecil Erresford now ; and was so completely 
 happy, wandering about with his Lucy, that 
 all life seemed glad to him ; and he felt as if 
 he, too, could dance along with the wild, 
 frolicking wind. How gladly hfe would
 
 LUCT AYLMER. 255 
 
 begin if he coiild win his Lucy, and when 
 won, how he would treasure her, how he 
 would love her ! Nothing should ever come in 
 and destroy the exquisite harmony of their 
 young hearts. The wind blew T\'ildly along, 
 and seemed to carrv on its blast an echo to 
 his thoughts — " nothing should distui'b their 
 harmony !" and the echo replied in a deep, 
 warning tone — " nothing I"
 
 256 liUCT AYLMER. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " If we are not just the thing in our niche at home, I don't 
 think we can do much good elsewhere," 
 
 The Lady Anne Erresford sat in her own 
 apartments, embroidering ornamental crosses 
 in gold silk, on a deep blue ground. On a 
 table before her stood a gotliic book-stand, -, 
 supporting an open book: the pages were 
 decorated with an elaborate border of many 
 colours, and illustrations corresponding with 
 the subject; the binding was black carved 
 wood with one plain smooth cross on each side. 
 It wore the appearance of a missal of Catholic 
 Rome, but the disguise hid the ritual of Pro- 
 testant England. The Lady Anne paused 
 occasionally in her work, and conned over the 
 services of the day. The second lesson was the
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 257 
 
 fonrtli chapter of St. ^latthew's Gospel. Lady 
 Anne read it in a listless manner, until she 
 came to the tenth verse, the words arrested her 
 attention : she read them again — " Thou shalt 
 worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt 
 thou serve." The warm colour came rushing 
 to Lady Anne's haughty brow : the sentence 
 seemed to stand there, and accuse her — she 
 put out her hand to close the book, and as she 
 did so, the purple velvet band from her neck 
 caught her finger, and a heavy gold cross swung 
 round against her face. She took it gently in 
 her hand, and replaced it with a reverent 
 touch, within the folds of her dress ; and she 
 closed hastily her emblazoned service, saying 
 in an audible whisper, " The Padre Anastasio 
 spoke with reason, ' to the consecrated ones 
 alone belongs the free reading of the Bible.' " 
 At an opposite end of the wide apartment, 
 almost concealed by a heavy frame of canv ass- 
 work, traced over with a pattern similar to the 
 one Lady Anne herself embroidered — sat a 
 foreign looking woman, short in stature, with 
 a pale, dark complexion, long, thin featiu'es, 
 and black eyes, small and piercing, like beads. 
 She had been covertly watching the Lady
 
 258 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Anne — seen ber stop with troubled mien in 
 her reading, close the Bible, and reverence the 
 cross — and she said within her heart, " surely 
 the Church's triumph draws near 1" 
 
 The Lady Anne leant back in her chair, and 
 passed her hand musingly across her brow, — 
 " Agnese," she said, addressing, in a command- 
 ing tone, the figure now so zealously bending 
 over the work. In an instant the needle was 
 dropped, and Agnese stood by her side. 
 "Bring me more wool, more of the bleu f once 
 — and remove the book from the stand, I 
 require it no longer." 
 
 Agnese moved to obey — the Lady Anne 
 also moved across with stately and dignified 
 step to the work the other had just left. 
 
 " You progress, Agnese," she said patronis- 
 ingly, as she bent over the beautiful colours. 
 
 " It will be my Lady's Easter offering," was 
 the reply, spoken in tolerable Enghsh, though 
 with an accent purely Italian. 
 
 The Lady Anne vouchsafed no notice, but 
 asked : " Have you yet designed the pattern for 
 the border ?" 
 
 " My Lady, no — that is to say not in draw- 
 ing, but in my mind I have arranged a series
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 259 
 
 of scrolls, one transfixing the other at intervals, 
 and so forming ovals, which each in its turn 
 is to contain the fleur-de-lis and the cross of 
 the Knights of ^lalta. Does this please my 
 Lady? 
 
 " I can scarcely tell," replied Lady Anne, 
 thoughtfully. " Can you not make the design, 
 and have it ready this evening for my ap- 
 proval?" 
 
 " My Lady, yes," said the little Italian 
 briskly ; " by this evening, when my Lady 
 makes her toilette ?" 
 
 " Yes, Agnese, then ; but is the pattern one 
 entirely of your own invention, or have you 
 copied it ?" 
 
 " Do you remember the private chapel of 
 the Marches a Elmo in Kome ?" 
 
 " I do," Lady Anne replied, still bending 
 over the work, as though she did not even 
 know of Agnese's presence. 
 
 "And does my Lady call to mind the 
 altar carpet worked by the pure hands of the 
 nuns of the Convent of the Blessed Virgin?" 
 Agnese bowed low, and performed the sign of 
 the Cross with great reverence. 
 
 " It was from there you took your design
 
 260 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 — yes, I see — you could not have it from a 
 better copy." 
 
 " I am honoured in my Lady's approval," 
 was the humble reply. 
 
 A low knock sounded at the door ; and a 
 voice scarcely less humble than Agnese's, 
 asked admittance, " Anne, may I come 
 in?" 
 
 The Lady Anne turned her haughty face 
 round, as her sister entered slowly and timidly ; 
 " Have I disturbed you, Anne ?" Flora asked. 
 
 "Not at all," was Lady Anne's short 
 reply. 
 
 Flora crossed the room, and looked at 
 Agnese's work. " What beautiful colours ! 
 you have nearly finished, Agnese ?" 
 
 " There is much yet to complete," the 
 Italian replied smiling. " Does my Lady Flora 
 approve ?" she added. 
 
 "It is very gay and pretty," Flora replied. 
 
 " Gay and pretty 1" echoed Lady Anne, 
 throwing a shght contempt into her voice. 
 
 "Am I not right, Anne?" asked Lady 
 Flora. 
 
 " Gay and pretty are words which apply to 
 toys and trifles, but not to ecclesiastical
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 261 
 
 decorations," Lady Anne said in a patronising 
 tone. 
 
 " I do not understand you, Anne," replied 
 Flora pettishly. 
 
 Lady Anne returned to the table, took up 
 her own work, and went on mth it. Agnese 
 also resumed her seat, and continued making 
 crosses over the coarse canvass. Flora remained 
 standing with her eyes still on the work, and 
 an anxious and distressed expression on her 
 brow. She w^as disappointed in her sister's cold 
 reception, and looked very much as though she 
 wished to make some remark, and was trying 
 to suppress it. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then 
 Flora said ; " I do not think there is much use 
 in working all that for Forsted chm'ch." 
 
 Flora paused to receive the reply she had 
 provoked, but none came. This made her feel 
 doubly annoyed, and she continued, " Cecil, 
 will never allow it to be put down." 
 
 " Is Cecil the officiating priest ?" asked Lady 
 Anne, looking at her sister with a cold, un- 
 comfortable stare. 
 
 " You know as well as I do, Anne, that 
 Mr. Aylmer is the clergyman of Forsted."
 
 262 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Lady Flora laid a great stress on the word, 
 " clergyman." 
 
 " In that case, what has Cecil to do with 
 my gifts to St. Walburga?" asked Lady 
 Anne, with her eyes still on Mora, in a 
 way as if Flora were not there, and she 
 were looking at the wall, or any other 
 inanimate object. 
 
 Lady Flora's pale face became suffused with 
 an angry colour ; her hps trembled, and her 
 eyes grew moist : she stood quite still for 
 several moments, and put a strong command 
 on herself. 
 
 Lady Anne's eyes fell again on her work — 
 Lady Flora's moment of irritation passed 
 away, and was succeded by an appealing look 
 of sorrow that would have distressed Lord 
 Glen do wan — it was so humble, so imploring ; 
 it seemed to speak to Lady Anne, and say, 
 " Why will you not love me ?" 
 
 Again the Italian looked up, a stolen, hasty 
 glance. " The Lady Anne," she thought, 
 " would grace the highest order of sisterhood 
 in our Holy Church, all the passions so 
 subdued and kept under !" 
 
 Then Flora spoke, " Mamma sent me to
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 263 
 
 you, Anne, she wishes you to know that the 
 NeAoQes will arrive here this afternoon." 
 
 " Indeed ! are they coming for the evening?" 
 
 "No, to stay with us. Did you not hear 
 about their house ?" 
 
 " I never hear common gossip ; my mind is 
 so closely employed, that time fails me for 
 trifles." 
 
 Again Lady Flora looked vexed. " It is 
 no trifle," she replied, " that the Manor House 
 has partly fallen in." 
 
 " I see now ! and they are coming to take 
 up their abode with us; — bon ! does my mo- 
 ther require me ?" 
 
 " No," said Flora, sadly, " but you would 
 not like visitors to arrive without any previous 
 intimation ?" 
 
 " That is not likely," Lady Anne observed. 
 '' Agnese," she said suddenly, " your wools are 
 not a match." 
 
 " My Lady, no," her attendant was by her 
 side in a moment. 
 
 " We must send to town ; these Arminster 
 shops are worth nothing." 
 
 " Ah 1 the beautiful cushion Avill be spoiled," 
 said the Italian, in a theatrical tone.
 
 264 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " A cushion !" exclaimed Flora. 
 
 Lady Anne and her attendant continued to 
 bend with interest over the ill-assorted wools. 
 
 Flora moved to the door. *' The Nevilles 
 arrive some time before dark," she said. 
 
 " You must take that side completely out, 
 Agnese," observed Lady Anne. 
 
 " And so beautifully done ; such precision — 
 such accuracy ! it surpasses the draperies of 
 the Marchesa Elmo !" 
 
 Lady Anne looked at Agnese as she had 
 done at Flora, as though she saw her not. 
 
 " The clock is striking one ; Anne, are you 
 coming down ?" poor Lady Flora ! she woidd 
 not give up trying to obtain her sister's 
 notice. 
 
 " The bell has not yet rung," Lady Anne 
 rephed, without looking up. " Agnese, I can 
 work no longer, these false colours annoy me !" 
 She rose — ^Flora was opening the door to 
 let herseK out ; she held it and let Lady Anne 
 pass, who went sweeping down the passage in 
 her dark rustling silk, hke the Lady Abbess 
 of some old convent. Flora went slowly up 
 to her own turret, and took out her pencil 
 drawing of Lucy : it was finished, and looked
 
 LUCr AYLMER. 265 
 
 serenely and placidly at her, she sighed as she 
 thought, '' how much happier is Lucy Neville 
 than I." 
 
 All that afternoon the Lady Anne spent 
 among her poor — It was the eve of the 
 Epiphany, and the tracts she distributed bore 
 reference to that and other festivals. The 
 villagers were growing mystified over Lady 
 Anne's instructions ; and one old woman, with 
 more boldness than the rest, told her, that one 
 verse of Miss Lucy's reading did her more 
 good than all her Ladyship's hard tracts ; and 
 she would rather not have any more. " She 
 wasted understanding enough," she said, "in 
 them tracts." Nevertheless, Lady Anne left 
 one on a due observance of Holy Days, and 
 departed. About an hour after, the Squire came 
 in. The old woman's son w^as a bricklayer, 
 and Mr. Neville wanted to speak to him about 
 the repairs. Lady Anne's tract lay untouched 
 on the dresser : the print was large, the title 
 attractive ; the Squire took it up, and looked at 
 it carelessly. " Heigho ! Sarah, what have you 
 got here ?" he called out, " have you turned 
 Papist ?" 
 
 '* Bless you, Sir, no ! I he's as good a 
 
 VOL. I, N
 
 266 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Christian as any in the village ! Ask Miss 
 Lucy, Sir." 
 
 " Miss Lucy never gave you this, I will be 
 bound !" the Squire said, " it is not fit you 
 should read it." 
 
 The writer told the pubhc, if they did 
 not attend service on Saints' Days he 
 trembled for their souls ; and the reason 
 they did not observe Saints' Days was, that 
 Satan, the father of lies, had perverted their 
 minds ; and if they did not reverence the 
 memory of the Saints on earth, how could they 
 expect to join them in Heaven ! The epithet 
 the Squire bestowed on the tract after reading 
 this was not elegant : he put the pamphlet in 
 his pocket and told the old woman again, that 
 it was not fit for her. She seemed quite con- 
 tented, and said, " she'd as lief he'd have it, for 
 she warn't one to harbour bad books." So 
 off" went the Squire with Lady Anne's 
 tract in his pocket ; and he carried it 
 straight to the parsonage, where Robert 
 Aylmer was composing a very prosy sermon 
 in his study. 
 
 " I say. Bob, look at this !" the Squire threw 
 down the ofiending tract on Robert's writing-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 267 
 
 table, and then planted himself with his back 
 to the fire. 
 
 Robert glanced at the title, then at the 
 opening page, and reddening a little, asked 
 the Squire where he got it. 
 
 " From one of your parishioners, old Sarah. 
 I should think she w^ould become precious 
 pious after reading that 1" 
 
 "It is rather strange," said Robert. 
 
 " Rather strange, do you call it ? I say 
 it is rather had. Are we Roman Catholics, or 
 are we not ? — because if we are, it is no con- 
 sequence, let these things be distributed ; but 
 if we are Protestants, w^hy stop them and burn 
 them; but don't let your parishioners be 
 tampered with like this !" The Squire had 
 never been so indignant before ; he had taken 
 up the tract while he was speaking, and now 
 threw it down again. 
 
 " It is Lady Anne's doing. I cannot help 
 it," said Robert quietly. 
 
 " Then you ought to help it !" the Squire 
 replied. " What is the use of a parson, if he 
 does not protect his parish from papists ?" 
 
 Robert smiled. " Would you have me 
 wage war with Lady Anne ?" 
 
 N 2
 
 268 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Oh ! you are too easy by half," said the 
 Squire. " If I stood in your shoes, my good 
 fellow, I would soon let the Lady Anne know 
 my opinion !" 
 
 " And quarrel with my patron's sister !" 
 observed the passive Robert. 
 
 " That patron of yours seems a bug-bear !'' 
 said the Squire. " A man has only got to say 
 he is hundreth cousin to Erresford, and you 
 would let him alone — if he meant to blow vour 
 brains out !" 
 
 " I never saw you so annoyed before, Sir," 
 said Robert svirpressing a smile at his 
 vehemence. 
 
 "Yes, I am annoyed, because I see pretty 
 fairly what it will come to. My Lady goes 
 about with her beggarly little tracts, and the 
 Dissenters and people think they are the views 
 of our church, and so they become disgusted, 
 and well they may ! — and set to and build a 
 chapel. As a natural result, the people get 
 divided, and fall to bickerings and peri)etual 
 strifes. But I say these tracts are not the 
 views of our church ; the prayer-book doesn't 
 tell us — at least mine does not — that T am a 
 lost man because I go a-hunting on Saints'
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 269 
 
 Days. They are popish tracts — nasty, sneaking 
 things ! done up in disguise sauce, to make 
 their rehgion palatable. But they shall not 
 make their rehgion palatable to me !" 
 
 " I am afraid Lady Anne and you will fall 
 out before you have been very long at Castle 
 St. Agnes," said Robert. 
 
 " Then you must come to keep the peace !" 
 the Squire yawned. " Why it is four o'clock 
 by the church ! — Brother, take that sneaking 
 little tract ! I was to have been home before 
 three. Good bye, Bob, old boy ! I was hot, 
 wasn't I?" The Squire recovered his good 
 humour in a moment. 
 
 " You certainly treated the subject warmly," 
 Robert replied. 
 
 " Well, never mind," rejoined the Squire, 
 " if your parishioners all play ' Follow my 
 leader' over to Rome, with starchy Anne at 
 their head, it will not be for want of my 
 warning !" 
 
 Robert Aylmer smiled as he watched Squire 
 Neville off, and then returning to his study, 
 he put the tract in a drawer, and went on 
 unconcernedly with his sermon, as if there 
 existed no such church as Rome, and as
 
 270 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 tliougli her deadly poison did not spread 
 through every town and parish of merry Eng- 
 land ! 
 
 Lady Anne did not make her appearance in 
 the drawing-room that evening, till a few 
 moments before dinner was announced. The 
 Nevilles had arrived, but it was impossible to 
 judge by her manner, if she were pleased 
 or otherwise, by their presence. She gave 
 her hand formally to each, asked a few 
 questions about the disaster at the Manor 
 House, and then relapsed into silence, con- 
 fronting a high mirror, which reflected back 
 the ample folds of her black lace flounces. 
 
 "You have made yourself scarce to-day, 
 Anne," Cecil said!" 
 
 " Have you been all the day at home ?" she 
 replied. 
 
 " In and out at intervals ; yet not even your 
 shadow have I seen since breakfast." 
 
 " No loss, I imagine !" and Lady Anne's 
 compressed lips parted and smiled. 
 
 " That remains with me to decide," rejoined 
 Cecil playfully. 
 
 Lucy was sitting a little way ofl", on the 
 edge of a sofa, talking to no one, and dreading
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 271 
 
 dinner. Lady Anne saw her in tlie mirror : 
 she turned suddenly round, and asked her 
 to come to the fire. Lucy appeared so small, so 
 delicately fair, standing by the side of the tall, 
 erect Lady Anne, that her ladyship looked 
 down on her with quite a feeling of compassion. 
 " You look paler than usual. Are you well ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, thank you !" said the timid Lucy. 
 " I was only very frightened last night." 
 
 Lady Anne had a way of carrying on a 
 conversation by little detached sentences, one 
 having no reference to the other. " Have 
 you walked to-day ?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, in the garden with Robert." Lucy's 
 cheek glowed at the remembrance. 
 
 "You see Mr, Aylmer often, I think?" 
 . " Nearly every day," said Lucy : she was 
 becoming rather less timid. When the door 
 opened, Lucy did not look round, but she 
 heard the word ' dinner,' and there was an 
 universal move. Lucy wished she could have 
 slipped away unobserved. Archer Neville 
 fetched Lady Anne away. Lucy bent her eyes 
 very earnestly on the coals and smoothed a 
 fold of her simple, white dress. She heard 
 Cecil address some one with the words, " You
 
 272 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 are late !" and she imagined Cecil was coming 
 towards her. How kind to think of her ! but 
 kinder still she thought him, when he said 
 playfully— 
 
 " May I not waive an introduction ?" and 
 he left Robert Ayhner to take down the fair, 
 sweet Lucy. The dinner did not seem half 
 so formidable now to Lucy, though there ap- 
 peared what she called, ' a great bustle,' and 
 the glare of light, and the long row of tall 
 powdered servants quite bewildered her. At 
 first, the number of dishes rather distressed 
 her, because she fancied she was called upon 
 to partake of so many ; but that trouble soon 
 vanished, for Robert cared for her, and only 
 gave her exactly what she liked ; and she 
 thought how happy it was to be by him. 
 Maude looked at Lucy from time to time, 
 handsome, self-possessed Maude ! whom no- 
 thing ever dismayed, from the falling in of 
 the house, to the formalities of her first dinner- 
 party ! Lucy wanted very much to smile 
 back at Maude, only she fancied Lady Anne, 
 who was on the opposite side of the table, 
 would imagine she was laughing at her ; and 
 that Lucy would not for the world have had
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 273 
 
 happened, after Lady Anne's kindness in 
 talking to her when she felt solitary. There 
 was a great deal of conversation going on ; 
 and Lucy thought every one very clever, for 
 they talked of so many things she did not 
 understand — things appertaining to London 
 life — learned books — clever people — witty 
 people — conversaziones — operas — on dits for 
 the coming season — it quite amazed her. Au- 
 gusta Neville had an immense amount of 
 conversation, and talked in a dashing, brilliant 
 style, which attracted in her London circles — 
 Lucy wondered if she should ever be expected 
 to converse like ' Aunt Augusta,' and hoped 
 not ; for she was sure she never should be able ; 
 and then she ceased to listen, and fell into a 
 reverie about the Manor House and the alter- 
 ations, and had almost forgotten the grand 
 dinner party, when the Countess rose, and 
 Lucy followed the other ladies back to the 
 long reception room, looking up at the Coun- 
 tess's head-dress and thinking how the 
 diamond pins sparkled among the flowers. 
 She felt solitary again, when they retm-ned to 
 the drawing-room. Maude was getting on 
 wonderfully : the Countess was talking to her.
 
 274 LUCY AYLMEK. 
 
 SO Lucy did not dare join them, but Lady 
 Flora came up softly — She wore a light blue 
 dress, and a white camelha, Lord Glendowan 
 had given her. Lucy thought her prettier than 
 any one except Maude, and was glad when 
 Mora took her hand. 
 
 " You are so cold, Lucy ! come near the 
 fire." People had a habit of making Lucy 
 come near the fire. 
 
 " Oh ! I am very comfortable, thank you," 
 Lucy replied shyly. 
 
 " You cannot be, you are so very cold — there 
 is a chair close to the hearth rug." They drew 
 near it, and Lady Flora said, " How little you 
 are, Lucy. I should like to take you on my 
 lap ; may I ?" 
 
 Lucy said " Oh, yes !" 
 
 So Flora sat down in the low chair and Lucy 
 on her lap. 
 
 Lucy softly put her arm round Lady Flora's 
 neck ; she could not help it, for she loved 
 Flora. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come to stay with 
 us, dear," and Flora kissed her. " I can see 
 so much of you uoav — and I shall begin your 
 painting. I showed Cecil the drawing, and he
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 275 
 
 says it is exactly like you." Flora was brigh- 
 tening. '' I looked at you several times during 
 dinner," she added ; " I think you get on." 
 
 " Yes, thank you," replied shy Lucy. 
 
 " Cecil asked Mr. Aylmer on purpose for 
 you, because he and I were so afraid you might 
 not enjoy yourself." 
 
 " It is so kind," said Lucy, drowsily, for 
 she was growing sleepy by the fire. 
 
 " Oh ! you must not go to sleep !" said 
 Flora, coaxingly ; " mamma will want you to 
 play by and bye." 
 
 This roused Lucy effectually, and she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Not I !" 
 
 "Why not?" asked Flora. 
 
 " Oh ! because I could not," said Lucy 
 alarmed. " How could I ?" 
 
 Flora laughed. 
 
 " But you play, do you not, Lucy ?" 
 
 " Only a very little," replied Lucy. 
 
 *' You shall hear Lord Glendowan play," 
 said Flora. " It is something worth listening 
 to.'' 
 
 " I shall enjoy it very much,'' rephed Lucy.
 
 276 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " I like Lord Glendowan's face : he looks so 
 good." 
 
 " So he is," and Mora coloured. " I wish I 
 were as good.'* 
 
 Lucy laughed. 
 
 " I am sure you are, Lady Flora. 
 
 " Wait till you know me well, and then you 
 will not say so." 
 
 " The more I know you, the more I shall 
 love you," replied Lucy. 
 
 " I like being loved by such a good little 
 thing as you ; it is a happiness in itself," said 
 Lady Flora. 
 
 Lucy was silent ; then suddenly she asked, 
 " Are there any haunted rooms in this house, 
 Lady Flora?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe so, but you will not be put 
 in one, dear." 
 
 " Oh ! I was not afraid of that, only I do 
 so delight in ghost stories," said Lucy, with 
 all a child's animation at the prospect of 
 hearing something marvellous. 
 
 " You must get my brother Cecil to tell you 
 some. He knows all the old traditions connected 
 with the Castle. I believe my turret is reported
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 277 
 
 to be haunted : it goes by the name of the 
 ghost's tun'et/' 
 
 "Wliat a spectral sounding name!" said 
 Lucy, opening her eyes with earnestness. 
 
 " I cannot tell you any more than that, dear ; 
 you must coax Cecil for the tradition. Oh ! 
 here they come." 
 
 Lucy jumped up quickly ; and so did Lady 
 Flora. They had quite burnt their faces over 
 the fire, and now they retreated to an ottoman. 
 Cecil came directly up to them. 
 
 " A learned discussion, on what ?" He seated 
 himself by Lucy. 
 
 " Our subject was ghosts," replied Flora. 
 
 " A ghostly night !" rejoined Cecil, " for the 
 wind howls in a wild hurricane." 
 
 "Just the time for ghost stories," said 
 Flora. "Lucy wants you to enlighten her 
 mind on the subject of the ghost's turret." 
 
 " Does she ? and I do not think you have 
 ever heard it, Flora. We will have it some 
 night." 
 
 " Relate it now !" said Flora. 
 
 " Oh yes !" echoed Lucy. 
 
 "What now ?" said Cecil. " It is not half 
 dark enough to appreciate a ghost story : the
 
 278 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 fire ought to smoulder in fitful light, in a room 
 full of shadows — the shadows of departed 
 ghosts !" Cecil looked at Lucy, who smiled 
 and seemed deeply interested. " If there are 
 a few figures in armour round the walls," he 
 went on, " so much the better ; and the wind 
 must shriek and howl under the doors, and 
 down the chimneys in tones of woe — and there 
 ought not to be many persons in the room — 
 the narrrator and about two or three auditors, 
 their eyes very mde open, and hair all ready 
 to stand upright, in case of need. Now judge, 
 young ladies, if a ghost story could be enacted 
 in this room full of lights : the spectre would 
 never appear !" 
 
 " That means we are not to have the tra- 
 dition," said Flora. 
 
 " Appoint any night, and any dark corner, 
 and I will bring my ghost and begin ; but in 
 this room — no ; it is out of the question." 
 
 *' We shall not forget your promise, shall we, 
 Lucy ?" Mora said. 
 
 " Oh ! I shall remember it," replied Lucy 
 eager for an exciting story — Oh when the 
 story was told, how wearily it fell on the ears 
 of one of the auditors !
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 279 
 
 The little party on the ottoman ceased their 
 conversation. Augusta was singing, and Lord 
 Glendowan playing an accompaniment The 
 words were wild and melancholy, and ran as 
 follows — 
 
 " Lights and shades around us falling. 
 To the hour of pray'r are calling ; 
 And the priest low tolls the bell. 
 While the nuns oft chaunt a knell — 
 Chaunt a knell for the dead sister — 
 Chaunt a deep, mysterious whisper. 
 
 " Youngest of that dark-robed band 
 Has pass'd away into the land. 
 Where her sorrows all are gone ; 
 Where there shines a holy mom ; 
 Where the glorious angels keep 
 Careful watch o'er the sister sweet. 
 
 " The nuns chaunt on a low, low wail, 
 ' Our Eva died in the Church's pale.' 
 Ah ! her soul escap'd the thrall. 
 That darken'd o'er the sisters all. 
 And broke the chains around her spread ; 
 Then slept in peace, in her cold bed ! 
 
 " A rumour dark on Eva hung. 
 Dart as the pall around her flung. 
 It whisper'd low — ' a silent death 
 Had hush'd the lovely Eva's breath. 
 * Eva the good ' — that dark deed gave 
 Thy faithful heart to the cold grave.
 
 280 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " Tlie knell was o'er : the maiden's doom 
 Was hush'd beneath the silent tomb ; 
 Yet still a stealthy whisper breathes. 
 Amongst the nuns, of Saint Therese, 
 ' The abbess stern ; 'tis she knows well 
 The cause of this mysterious knell !' " 
 
 The music died away; there was a mo- 
 ment's silence, then a burst of applause. 
 The accompaniment was slow and dirge-like, 
 nearly all on the low notes, exquisitely played 
 by the composer ; for Lord Glendowan had 
 arranged it himself to the words he found 
 in Lady Flora's album. He had lent the 
 book, some days back, to Miss Neville; and 
 her splendid voice did justice to the melody. 
 She sang con amore, though quietly, and 
 with the utmost self-possession. It was so 
 exquisite that it seemed to thrill through the 
 audience. 
 
 " We must have it again !" and Mora, 
 almost breathless, laid her hand on Cecil's 
 arm. The performers were encored. 
 
 " On the organ, Glendowan, have it on 
 the organ !" cried Lord Cecil. 
 
 The Lady Anne's lip curled satirically at 
 their enthusiasm, for they all flocked off" to
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 281 
 
 the music-room. In the Catholic days of the 
 castle, it had been a chapel ; but the lofty, 
 arched roof, and long, ecclesiastical ^vindows 
 were all that now remained of its original 
 character. In the recess, where once holy 
 water stood, now blazed a bright fire ; and 
 opposite the fire towered high the large pipes 
 of an organ. Lights were brought, and the 
 organ's splendid tones filled and echoed 
 through the lofty roof. Was ever performer 
 like Glendowan ? Was ever songstress like 
 Augusta ? There was a breathless silence in 
 the Avhole room. The sounds floated in the 
 air. Lucy stood close by her father, and his 
 strong arm was round her. She was an 
 ardent lover of music, and it had an over- 
 powering influence on her. She fancied she 
 heard the toUing bell — the dirge thrilled 
 through her heart — she scarce breathed when 
 the tomb closed o'er the lovely Eva. It was 
 the first time she had heard really beautiful 
 music, and she wondered if she should ever 
 enjoy anything like it again. 
 
 Archer Neville listened as though he heard 
 not, his arms crossed, his eyes on the Lady 
 Flora, who stood turned towards the organ.
 
 282 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 There were busy thoughts passing in Archer's 
 mind — thoughts that would have made the 
 Lady Mora start, had she but known them ; 
 but she was totally unsuspecting, and listened 
 attentively to Augusta's song. 
 
 That night, when Lucy was going to sleep, 
 Maude asked her how she had enjoyed her- 
 self, to which Lucy replied, " It was all like 
 a dream in a fairv tale !"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Good is a hundred — evil, but one : 
 Round about goeth the golden sun. 
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 When the Squire thought calmly over the 
 repairs required in the Manor House, he 
 began to feel puzzled and anxious ; for 
 should the sum necessary for the alterations 
 be more than a few hundreds, it would not 
 be at his command. Archer had sent to 
 London for an architect ; and this architect, 
 when he made his appearance, struck out 
 into extensive plans for rebuilding the wing 
 on a new and improved design, and making 
 numerous alterations in the rest of the house 
 — turning passages — raising ceilings — throw- 
 ing out new windows. The Squire was rather
 
 284 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 mystified by the numberless professional sug- 
 gestions made by the worthy gentleman on 
 his perambulations over the house and 
 grounds. The latter, he said, by a mere 
 trifling expenditure, might be made a minia- 
 ture Versailles — the situation so favourable, 
 the soil so good. When complete, it would 
 be a perfect Paradise for the ladies ! 
 
 The Squire began to grumble, and, with 
 his usual bluntness, candidly told the archi- 
 tect he had not got the money for it, so it 
 did not signify ! The architect was blandness 
 itself, smiled incredulously at the Squire's 
 poverty, talked about the antiquity of the 
 Neville family, and the necessity of its repre- 
 sentative keeping up the family grandeur. 
 To all this, the Squire muttered a good- 
 humoured " Bosh !" said he must think over 
 it all, then asked the architect to come and 
 see his hunters. The Squire loved his hunters 
 next to his children, and was thoroughly 
 proud of them : the Squire expected praise, 
 and the architect bestowed it; but with a 
 professional eye everywhere about him, he 
 hinted improvements in the stables. The 
 Squire lent an attentive ear — asked the pro-
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 285 
 
 bable expense — said lie would think well over 
 it, and send word in a day or two how his 
 mind was made up. 
 
 Now, it so happened that this architect was 
 the personal friend of Archer. He had de- 
 signed several great houses, and was received 
 into good society ; moreover, he had married 
 a pretty little Parisian wife, whose brother — 
 a Count somebody-or-other — belonged to the 
 number of hopeless admirers who frequented 
 Augusta Neville's soirees. 
 
 Archer Neville was a younger brother. He 
 was aspiring, grasping, avaricious. It had been 
 the one wish of his life, that to him, and not 
 his brother, the ancestral estate should belong. 
 He never visited Forsted, but he looked en- 
 viously on the old Manor House, and longed 
 that by some means it should become his ; but 
 no means presented themselves. Sometimes 
 the wish passed across his mind, unnaturally 
 enough ! that his brother's daughters might 
 die young. After them, he was next in kin : 
 but they grew up strong in health, lovely in 
 person, with every prospect before them of 
 marrying well ; and then the estate would pass 
 away from the name of Neville.
 
 286 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Archer hated gusty, windy nights. The 
 howHng blasts carried a melancholy with 
 them ; but the wind that blew down the 
 east wing of the Manor, he thought, would be 
 a favourable wind to him — and why ? The 
 reason was this — it suggested to him a means, 
 deep and artful as his oAvn heart, for getting 
 the old Manor into his power. He knew well 
 enough, that his brother had no money to 
 spare for repairs, and that if extensive altera- 
 tions were entered into, the payments must be 
 borrowed, and on some security — now the 
 only security his brother had to give was the 
 coveted Manor ! Archer would be the first 
 to come forward wdth an offered loan, and 
 into Archer's hands the Manor must eventually 
 fall. He smiled over his scheme : it seemed 
 a feasible one. All his persuasions were used 
 to lead his brother into extravagant alterations : 
 the family credit — the girls' comfort — and 
 numberless insinuations which easily presented 
 themselves to the intriguing Archer. His 
 friend, the architect, received also instructions 
 to use all his arguments ; for, said Archer, 
 the name of Neville is disgraced by such 
 neglect of its landed property, which, were it
 
 LUCT AYLMER. 287 
 
 well looked after and carefully kept, would be 
 a good fortune to its possessor. How Archer 
 rejoiced that it was not entailed ! and to what 
 good purpose he would put it, were it once 
 in his power ! the farms and cottages, which 
 now yielded their rents so uncertainly, and 
 whose owners were never summoned or 
 threatened by the Squire, how carefully Archer 
 would improve them ! and woe be to the 
 tenant who overlooked quarter-day ! So 
 Archer built his castles, forgetting they were 
 but airy ones, and could be blown do^vn as 
 suddenly and unexpectedly as the old east 
 wing at the Manor. 
 
 The Squire wandered about among the 
 grounds. The architect had left the Squire's 
 mind full of plans and designs — plans, which 
 were to turn the old Manor into a perfect 
 palace, and the grounds into the gardens of 
 Versailles. The Squire wished to goodness 
 the wind had kept off, and let his old place 
 alone. He was an old-fashioned man, and he 
 hated alterations for their own sakes and his 
 pockets' sake ; but somehow Archer had an 
 influence over him ; and Archer having sent 
 for the architect, the poor Squire thought it
 
 288 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 incumbent on him to accede to some of his 
 plans — though where was the money to come 
 from to carry on the alterations ? He did not 
 like the idea of borrowing, even from his 
 brother. The Squire grew restless, and 
 walked musingly to and fro, quite a new thing 
 for him, usually so light-hearted that no 
 serious thought ever rested long on his mind. 
 " Mr. Neville !" he heard his name called, and 
 turned hastily round. It was Cecil Erresford 
 he saw, and he felt lightened of his cares — 
 There was a frank openness about Cecil that 
 coincided with his own ; and he was at home 
 in Cecil's society ; indeed he would rather have 
 had it just then than his brother's. 
 
 " You have a troublesome business in hand, 
 I fear," said Cecil. 
 
 " Oh 1 a bothering business," exclaimed the 
 Squire, impatiently ; " but 1 am glad you have 
 come upon me just now. I should like to have 
 a little talk with you. I know you are a cool- 
 headed fellow." 
 
 " I must first deliver my message," rejoined 
 Cecil. " Miss Lucy was very much distressed 
 at your going out this morning without seeing 
 her, for she had sundry enquiries, and, indeed.
 
 LUCY ATLMER. 289 
 
 messages — about a dog called Tawny, and 
 as I was going to ride across to Preston 
 Hall, I promised to be the bearer of all the 
 pretty things to the favoured animal." 
 
 "Lor bless me, Erresford ! don't let the 
 girls make a messenger of you ! you are 
 too good-tempered. Tawny is safe enough. 
 Robert has him at the parsonage ; I forgot to 
 tell my Lucy, he is her especial pet." 
 
 "That is off my mind," said Cecil, cheer- 
 fully. " Now, Mr. Neville, our little talk !" 
 
 " I will tell you what," began the Squire, 
 somewhat abruptly, " I want your opinion 
 about these repairs." 
 
 " I will tell you what I think : the less you 
 have to do with these repairs the better," said 
 Cecil quietly. 
 
 " You think so, do you ?" replied the Squire. 
 " And so do 1, but what am I to do ? People 
 worry me so about them." 
 
 "Don't regard them; but use your own 
 judgment," said Cecil. 
 
 " What would you do, if you were in my 
 place ?" the Squire asked. 
 
 " I should build up the walls and make the 
 roof sound." 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " And the rest as before, as the doctors say 
 on their bottles, eh, Erresford ?" 
 
 " Exactly 1" replied Cecil laughing. 
 
 " That is your advice ! well it is worth a 
 fee. It will save my pockets from lightening. 
 You see, Erresford," the Squire went on in his 
 blunt way, " I am not a rich man, and I do 
 not want to dabble in mortgages if I can help 
 it, for the girls' sake." 
 
 "Oh ! do anything rather than that," said 
 Cecil, seriously ; "keep clear of mortgages." 
 
 " Ah 1 they are ugly things, I grant you. 
 Harry Ayhner got his ruin by them, and his 
 children's too, pretty nearly." 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Neville, but take that as 
 a warning ; do not allow people even to tempt 
 you with a kind intention." 
 
 " Has Archer told you he offered me the 
 money ?" said the Squire suddenly. 
 
 " No, you told me yourself this morning." 
 
 " Aye, so I did ! Archer is a good fellow, 
 isn't he ? I believe he would give me all he 
 had, if I asked him for it." 
 
 " And you would give him all you had in 
 return," said Erresford dryly. 
 
 " How do you mean ?" asked the Squire.
 
 LUCr AYLMER. 291 
 
 " Why mortgage the estate," replied 
 Erresford. 
 
 " True/' remarked the Squire. " I could 
 scrape together a few hundreds without mort- 
 gaging," he added, " and if the old place 
 suited us before, it must suit us now." 
 
 " I am sure the young ladies do not want 
 their home altered," said Erresford : he tried 
 every persuasion to save the Squire from the 
 mortgage. 
 
 *' I know they do not. Maude and Lucy 
 are regular girls for keeping things just as 
 they found them." 
 
 " Well, surely, Mr Neville, most people have 
 their children in view in everything they do," 
 observed Cecil. 
 
 " They ought," muttered the Squire, " but 
 they don't always though." 
 
 " The repairs in any way will take some 
 weeks, and when they are over, you will be 
 tired of seeing workmen about," said Cecil. 
 
 " Must I put the patching up the wing in 
 the hands of this architect ?" asked the Squire, 
 who was almost as ignorant on business mat- 
 ters as a child. 
 
 "By no means," repHed Erresford, " let 
 
 o 2
 
 292 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Roberts of Taunton have the job, I know him 
 well. I employed him at the Castle. Let 
 him give you an estimate, and then make him 
 keep to it ; the expense in that way will not 
 be great. I imagine about three or four hun- 
 dred. Whereas, if Phipps had a hand in it, 1 
 would not name the thousands." 
 
 " Thank you, Erresford," replied the Squire, 
 " now I have your advice, 1 will stick to it." 
 
 " It is not my advice, but your judgment : 
 you see the thing clearly, do you not." 
 
 "Don't I?" replied the Squire, "Phipps 
 shall not have the job." 
 
 " May I give you a word of advice without 
 being thought impertinent ?" said Cecil. 
 
 " Say on and welcome," replied the Squire. 
 
 " Do not tell Phipps or your brother that 
 my opinion influenced you. Mind I am not 
 ashamed of my opinion, and if called upon, I 
 would express it frankly ; but if the opinion 
 comes from yourself, apparently unbiassed, it 
 will have weight ; and the next time no one 
 will try and impose upon you in matters of a 
 similar kind." 
 
 " You are a trump, EiTesford," said the 
 Squire wannly, then resuming his former
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 293 
 
 tone, he added, " Archer will be disappointed, 
 he wants great things from me, he has a good 
 heart ! but what is style — comfort is the 
 thing." 
 
 " We agree again, Mr. Neville," said Cecil 
 smiling ; " and now will you ride with me to 
 Preston HaU ?" 
 
 " Thank you, no, I must be off after Phipps. 
 I will dismiss the business at once. I hate 
 shilly-shallying over things." 
 
 Keen and sharp as was Archer, Cecil was a 
 match for him in clear perception. He mis- 
 trusted Archer — the clever barrister did not 
 please him, there was a want of candour, want 
 of openness — and this affair of the mortgage 
 made him more suspicious. And Archer 
 hated Cecil for his very openness and can- 
 dour, and his quickness of perception ; and 
 when the Squire met his brother, and com- 
 municated his intentions respecting the 
 Manor, Archer replied, " Well, do as you 
 like, but Erresford has been influencing you." 
 
 " It is my own judgment," answered the 
 Squire. " I am obliged to you all the same, 
 old boy, for the money, but I will wait to 
 borrow it another time. Mr. Phipps, Sir, I
 
 294 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 shall not want your services. I am going to 
 take the concern into my own hands." 
 
 Archer ceased his persuasions, and his friend 
 Phipps returned to town : and from that day 
 there was no love lost from Archer to Cecil 
 Erresford. 
 
 Maude and Lucy were beginning to feel 
 quite at home at the Castle. The Countess was 
 very kind, and she showed her kindness by 
 leaving her guests very much to their own 
 desires, a far better way than perpetually 
 boring people with questions about their plans. 
 The Lady Anne's step was rarely heard in the 
 galleries, or her face seen in the saloons — her 
 poor, the Squire's enemies, the tracts, and 
 lastly her ecclesiastical work, occupying nearly 
 all her time. A prayer-book with scarlet and 
 blue letters, and every page emblazoned, had 
 superseded the church- service which Lady 
 Anne had laid aside — truth must be told — 
 because there was too much of the Bible 
 in it. 
 
 Augusta Neville's grand object, now she 
 was established at Castle St. Agnes, seemed 
 to be setting her cap at Cecil Erresford. It 
 would be no bad thing, thought the fair
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 295 
 
 schemer, to become the Honourable Mrs. 
 Erresford and eventually the Countess De 
 Walden ! for the present Earl would never 
 marry, and on Cecil must devolve both estates 
 and title at some future period. The ambi- 
 tious Augusta considered herself very fascina- 
 ting, and saw no reason to prevent her fasci- 
 nations having power over Cecil Erresford. 
 The first morning of her sojourn at the Castle, 
 she started a riding party, and appeared in 
 elegant costume, chose the most spirited horse, 
 and was the admiration of the whole party. 
 The next evening, she proposed charades, 
 taking care to throw herself and Cecil together, 
 as the most prominent characters. Another 
 frosty morning she arranged a pedestrian 
 expedition to Branstone Hills, but grew tired 
 before it was half over. Cecil in consequence 
 was obliged to give her his arm ; and the weary 
 Augusta, by dint of careful manoeuvres, kept 
 greatly in the rear of their party, and enjoyed 
 three miles delightful tete-a-tete. 
 
 Some days afterwards, Augusta and her 
 nieces with Lady Elora sat working together 
 in the sunny morning room. Cecil stood by 
 the window looking out.
 
 296 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 " You surely do not meditate deserting us, 
 Mr. Erresford ?" said Augusta. 
 
 " What designs on me have you this 
 morning, Miss Neville?" Cecil asked play- 
 fully. 
 
 '' Oh ! you must read aloud to us, we have 
 set our hearts on it," and Augusta held up 
 an unbound book. 
 
 " You should get Glendowan, he is a first- 
 rate reader." 
 
 " Lord Glendowan is engaged, he is always 
 busy," replied Augusta : "it will not do, we 
 take no refusals. Besides I have cut the 
 leaves all ready for you, and the book looks 
 charming. A poem, I got yesterday at 
 Arminster 1" 
 
 "I am a shocking poetry -reader," said 
 Cecil smiling. 
 
 *' Oh! I am ashamed of you,- Mr. Erresford, 
 such excuses 1" 
 
 Cecil turned round and took up the book. 
 " Stay, we must establish you comfortably : 
 an easy chair, and a book-rest !" said the un- 
 daunted Augusta. 
 
 Cecil uttered a little groan. " Oh, Miss 
 Neville, I could not ; my gallantry gives way.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 297 
 
 A morning with Tennyson ! it is beyond 
 my powers of endiu^ance. I told you I was 
 no hand at poetry !" * 
 
 '' Oh, Cecil ! you profess to be fond of 
 poetry," said Lady Flora. 
 
 " So I am, but I must understand before I 
 can appreciate." 
 
 " My dear, hard-used Tennyson !" said 
 Augusta, " try him for once !" she put her 
 head on one side, and looked coaxingly up at 
 Cecil, who had it on his lips to say, " bother 
 the woman !" but he refrained. 
 
 " I protest you are nearly too much for me," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 " Aunt Augusta will not be happy without 
 your society," said Maude saucily. 
 
 " My dear child !" exclaimed Augusta. 
 
 Just at this moment, Lady Anne came in 
 attired in the oldest straw bonnet imaginable, 
 and a worsted shawl, procurable at Arminster 
 for the sum of four shillings and sixpence. 
 The large leather bag on her arm told plainly 
 whither she was going ; nevertheless Cecil 
 thought proper to enquire. " What is the 
 plan for the morning. Queen Anne ?" 
 
 " Ten cottages," was the terse reply. 
 
 o 3
 
 298 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 Augusta bit her lip, but Maude laughed 
 audibly, then thinking she had been very rude, 
 ran oUt of the room. 
 
 " Might I straighten your bonnet, Anne, it 
 is dreadfully bent ?" said Lady Mora. 
 
 " N'importe/' replied her Ladyship coldly. 
 " I shall see no one but the villagers and Mr. 
 Aylmer, and neither one nor the other will 
 notice my dress." 
 
 " Oh ! Aylmer professes to be very nice on 
 the subject of bonnets," said Cecil, looking 
 slyly at Flora. 
 
 Maude vrho had finished her laughter in 
 the hall, and would not lose what she called 
 ' the fun,' came back and resumed her work 
 — a kettle holder for Robert, a very droll 
 affair with a figure in full canonicals on it. 
 
 Lady Anne sat down to a writing-table, and 
 commenced a note. 
 
 "What is in this, Anne?" Cecil asked, 
 glancing queerly at the bag lying on a chair 
 near him. 
 
 The Lady Anne vouchsafed no reply. Cecil 
 looked at the bag, took it up, examined it 
 cautiously, then pressing the lock, peeped in ; 
 Maude watching him all the time, her face
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 299 
 
 crimson with suppressed laughter. " What, 
 Anne, turned doctor?" Cecil exclaimed, holding 
 up a paper, " Receipt for croup," an odd title ! 
 " A bunch of full-grown carrots to a quart of 
 water — simmer gently — then throw in a hand- 
 ful of salt ; and add pepper to the taste — then," 
 Cecil was going on, but he was stopped by 
 a shout of laughter. 
 
 Lady Mora got up and looked over his 
 shoulder. " Cecil, I was sure you were making 
 fun of us, it is a receipt for soup not croup J' 
 
 " Then it is the oddest ' S' — I ever saw in 
 my life ! and yet I thought the receipt was 
 strange, it would be a case of kill, not cure, 
 with Anne's patients." Cecil glanced at his 
 sister, her countenance was perfectly im- 
 movable and she appeared deeply engaged 
 with her writing. " Anne is instructing her 
 people in the art of wholesome cooking," said 
 Cecil. " Let me see what comes next." 
 
 " Pray do not, Cecil," whispered Lady Flora, 
 who was too frightened to enjoy her brother's 
 fit of nonsense. 
 
 " Oh ! do go on — what comes next ?" said 
 the saucy Maude. 
 
 " A bundle of tracts neatly tied up with
 
 300 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 red tape — highly proper — labled 'Tracts for 
 the Holy seasons/ " Cecil stopped and turned 
 them to and fro. 
 
 " Cecil, I will trouble you for my bag ;" the 
 Lady Anne had finished her note, and stood 
 with it in her hand, looking coldly down, while 
 her brother replaced the papers — then she 
 sailed from the room in profound silence. 
 
 " There, Cecil, you have made Anne angry," 
 said Lady Flora in a distressed tone. 
 
 " If you think so, my dear, I will go after 
 her, and make my peace." 
 
 " Oh, the poem !" exclaimed Augusta, but 
 Cecil flew out, and there was an end of reading 
 for that morning. 
 
 Maude threw down her work and sauntered 
 to the window. Cecil had risen several degrees 
 in her estimation since this little frolic. 
 
 " Maude, my dear, what are you doing ?" 
 and Augusta took up the piece of work Maude 
 had just thrown down. 
 
 " Making Robert's likeness, aunt," replied 
 Maude carelessly. 
 
 "How dreadfully impertinent you grow, 
 child ! AVho designed it, not yourself ?" said 
 Miss Neville.
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 301 
 
 " This is a profound secret," replied Maude, 
 " Lu, darling, do come out. I am sick of 
 staying in doors." 
 
 " Lucy, my dear, what a silent little crea- 
 ture you are ?" exclaimed Augusta. " I posi- 
 tively forgot you were here." 
 
 " Nonsense, Auntie ! why Lucy laughed 
 with the rest of us. Come along, dearie," 
 said Maude. 
 
 Lucy folded up her work and Maude's and 
 followed her. A few minutes after, Squire 
 Neville put in his head and called his sister, 
 and the Lady Flora was left alone. Her hands 
 hung hstlessly on her lap, and she began to 
 think — of whom ? — of Archer Neville — She 
 wondered why she was pleased with his society ; 
 longed for him to talk to her ; and yet felt 
 slightly agitated when he did so. She had 
 never experienced any similar feeling before, 
 and she could not understand it. When Lord 
 Glendowan was with her, she felt a calm 
 indifference ; but when Archer was with her 
 how her cheek glovv^ed, and a strange gladness 
 stole over her ! It increased day by day, and 
 now she thought over it, she was troubled. 
 She thought and thought till her cheeks grew
 
 302 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 crimson at Archer being so much in her mind. 
 She imagined it was not right, and was deter- 
 mined to dismiss these new ideas ; and fancy- 
 ing she could not do so in soUtude, Lady 
 Flora went off to find Lord Glen do wan. 
 Instead of his Lordship, the first person she 
 encountered was the one she was fiying from. 
 
 " I was seeking you, Lady Flora," he said. 
 " There is an extraordinary flight of rooks 
 settled on the lower part of the park : Maude 
 and Lucy are down there, and quite anxious 
 you should join them." 
 
 Flora coloured uncomfortably, and felt con- 
 scious that Archer noticed it. " Cannot I see 
 them from the window ?" she said in a slightly 
 embarrassed tone. 
 
 " Not from the window, they are below the 
 elms," he replied. 
 
 " Is it not very cold ?" she asked timidly. 
 
 " No, delightful ! can I find you a shawl ?" 
 One lay on a slab near. Flora threw it over 
 her head : she imagined it would appear so 
 marked if she refused to go with him. 
 
 Archer observed her hesitation and difii- 
 dence, and thought exultingly, it was a good 
 sign ; for if he were indifierent to her, where-
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 803 
 
 fore should she fear being with him ? He 
 offered her his arm as they descended the 
 terrace steps, but she pretended not to hear 
 him, and held her shawl with both her hands. 
 
 "Do you drive this afternoon ?" Archer 
 asked, thinking it politic to converse on indif- 
 ferent subjects. 
 
 "Yes, we go to Sleebury." By 'we,' Lady 
 Flora meant herself and Lord Glen do wan. 
 
 " Sleebury is a favourite drive of yours, I 
 think ?" 
 
 " We often want things," replied Flora, 
 "but we go for the letters to-day." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Archer, " do you expect to 
 hear from Lord de Walden ?" 
 
 " No, we heard on Thursday. My brother 
 is very well." 
 
 "I am glad you had good news," said 
 Archer, in a tone of great interest. " Lord 
 Glendowan was talking of a visit to Scotland, I 
 think," Archer added, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " Yes 1 his youngest sister is very ill ; and 
 if he receives worse accounts at Sleebury, he 
 will start at once." 
 
 " Is she Lady Damer ?" Archer enquired. 
 
 " Yes ! you have met her, have Vou not ?"
 
 304 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 " I had the pleasure of being introduced 
 to Lady Darner at a botanical fete,'' Archer 
 replied. 
 
 " This summer, I think, when she stayed 
 with the Tyrells ? The Damers and Tyrells are 
 connected," said Lady Flora, feeling more at 
 her ease. 
 
 " I believe so," he replied, but he did not 
 seem to like the subject. 
 
 Lady Mora, however, persisted in it: " Cecil 
 was telling me yesterday that Sir Edgar 
 Tyrell is Mr. Aylmer's uncle." 
 
 " The late Mr. Aylmer's half-brother," re- 
 plied Archer. 
 
 " He partly adopted Mr. Aylmer once, I 
 believe," continued Flora, " and Cecil seems 
 to think as they have no children, Sir Edgar 
 may leave his property to Mr. Aylmer and his 
 sister." 
 
 Archer looked slightly discomposed, only 
 very slightly ; but the change of expression 
 disappeared in a moment, as he said, " Mr. 
 Erresford thinks so." 
 
 " Do you know anything of Mr. Aylmer's 
 sister?" Flora asked. 
 
 " Very liftle ; she left here when almost a
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 305 
 
 child. Lieutenant St. John has just got his 
 company, I believe." 
 
 " Yes ! I saw his promotion in the paper. 
 I am very glad, for Cecil thinks they are 
 extremely poor." 
 
 " They will do very well now," said Archer. 
 Just then Flora sHpped : they were walking 
 fast. Archer put out his hand, but it was 
 not needed. Flora recovered her footing 
 instantly. "Will you take my arm?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Thank you, I must hold up my dress, it 
 is so long, it nearly throws jne down," replied 
 Flora nervously : she would not have been seen 
 walking arm in arm with Archer, on any 
 account. What might Lord Glendowan think ? 
 And now when his favoiu-ite sister was ill, to 
 vex him, would be cruel. Lady Flora would 
 have learned to love Lord Glendowan only 
 Archer came between. 
 
 The ground was quite black with rooks in 
 the lower part of the park. Lady Flora and 
 Archer stood still and watched them ; Maude 
 and Lucy had gone away to find their father. 
 Flora was very silent for some time, and then
 
 306 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 she said ; " I wish I were versed in Natural 
 History." 
 
 " I should imagine it an interesting, but 
 troublesome study," Archer replied. 
 
 " Look, they are holding a parhament," 
 exclaimed Flora. " I do really believe animals 
 can converse with each other, as well as 
 men." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Archer : he 
 had a way of agreeing with Mora. 
 
 " Animal existence would be so dreary, if it 
 were not so," said Flora dreamily. 
 
 " Yes ! what does man become without 
 intercourse with his fellow man, but a mere 
 savage," replied Archer. 
 
 " Only fancy being cast on a desert island," 
 observed Lady Flora, overcoming her reserve 
 with Archer. 
 
 " I do not like to fancy it," replied Archer. 
 
 " A few people together would not be so 
 bad, but one alone — oh ! it must be so dread- 
 ful," continued Lady Flora. 
 
 " I am a gregarious animal, solitude does 
 not suit me," said Archer. 
 
 " I like a certain kind of solitude," rejoined
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 307 
 
 Lady Flora, " a solitude sought by one's own 
 self, when the world deals hardly with us. 
 Solitude in that case is a friend, not a foe," 
 Flora sighed. 
 
 " The Lady Flora has had no experience of 
 that kind of solitude," observed Archer, 
 " it must be a strange world that could go 
 hardly with her I" 
 
 " This is a strange world," murmured Flora. 
 ''It is hke a puppet-show, which sometimes 
 passes before us bad pictures, and sometimes 
 good ones." 
 
 "Let us hope the best turn up the most 
 often," replied Archer. 
 
 " I wish it were so ; but misery certainly 
 turns up oftener than happiness. In this 
 world evil preponderates over the good ; but 
 some people would tell me I am misan- 
 thropic." 
 
 " It would be no bad plan," said Archer, 
 " to make an evening's amusement out of this 
 subject. Let each of our party write a concise 
 article expressing their peculiar opinion on the 
 preponderance of happiness or misery. What 
 think you. Lady Flora ?"
 
 308 LUCY ATLMER. 
 
 " Mine would be such a lugubrious paper," 
 replied Mora sadly : " I have so often con- 
 structed pictures sorrowful and desolate- 
 looking; not the sunny landscape, all glad 
 and smiling — but the sky dark with rain and 
 thunder clouds." 
 
 " Your lot should be unchequered by one 
 single rain-drop, or tiny cloudlet. A perpetual 
 sunshine should hang over you !" he said 
 this in such an impassioned tone, that Lady 
 Flora felt a thrill accompany the words. 
 Archer longed to have added, how devoutly 
 he wished it were his lot to bring the sun- 
 shine o'er her path ; but he felt this would be 
 premature. 
 
 That evening, the party at the Castle were 
 assembled in the drawing-room. The question 
 arose, what should they do ? Music and 
 charades had amused them several successive 
 nights — then was suddenly proposed the plan 
 of the essays — it was quite a new idea, and 
 the Countess highly approved of it. Pencils 
 and paper were sent for, and half an hour 
 given to each for their task : the subjects 
 being Happiness or Misery. The Countess was
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 309 
 
 to time them ; and, moreover, her ladyship 
 promised to award a prize to the most suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 Robert Aylmer was of the party, and Lord 
 Glendowan had not left. Better news had 
 awaited him at Sleebury. Every one was to 
 write but the Countess, who would be the 
 arbitrator. Even the Squire had a pencil and 
 paper given him, but his essay did not appear 
 to make great way — his amusement seemed to 
 be watching the rest. There was an universal 
 silence, that seemed to weary Maude, and she 
 was relieved when the Countess pronounced 
 the half hour expired, and called in the papers. 
 There were ten, and the Conntess read them 
 as they were sent in turn round the table. 
 
 Augusta's came first. It was rather a long 
 affair, and not very much to the purpose : a 
 little afifectation, and many quotations, and 
 very little of either happiness or misery in it. 
 Cecil's was characteristic of himself, beautiful 
 in sentiment — clear in expression. The happy 
 ones of the earth triumphed — everybody 
 thought it would be the best paper. Maude's 
 was very short, clever, but containing a great
 
 310 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 deal of nonsense. Robert's followed ; it was 
 too like his sermons, too prosy to be good ; 
 besides it was not half finished, and con- 
 sequently his judgment did not appear. 
 Lady Flora's was triste and melancholy, 
 embodying the sentiments of the morning. 
 Lord Glendowan's was a preface to something 
 great, not developed. Archer had endeavoured 
 to improvise some poetry, rather sentimental, 
 which made Mora blush, but his views were 
 not clear. Lady Anne's paper was high- 
 flown and high-church, like a leaf from one 
 of her tracts. There were suppressed smiles 
 when it was read. 
 
 The Squire had been occupying himself 
 mischievously the half hour, in cariacaturing 
 the whole assembled party, himself included. 
 He called it " a dish of learned ones !" this 
 sent the whole party into shouts of laughter. 
 It was some time before they were composed 
 again ; and then the Countess in a kind tone 
 of encouragement, asked Lucy for her com- 
 position. Augusta leant back in her chair 
 and whispered for Cecil's ear, "I wonder 
 what that child has been writing ?"
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 31] 
 
 " Something good, I have no doubt/' was 
 Cecil's cold reply. 
 
 The Countess read in her clear liquid 
 tones as follows — " An enquiry after Hap- 
 piness." 
 
 " I went out at sunrise into a flower-garden. 
 The early dew was on the grass, soft and 
 shining like brilliants — and it hung veil-Hke 
 about the opening flowers and on the hedges, 
 where it wove glittering garlands and con- 
 nected with a sparkling chain the deUcate 
 webs of the spider. A peacock with gorgeous 
 plumage sunned himself on the stone balus- 
 trade ; and on the clear surface of a tiny lake, 
 floated two stately swans ; bees hummed 
 from flower to flower, collecting their delicious 
 spoils, and on the bud and stem danced the 
 butterfly — the gay — the beautiful; and the 
 sunshine flooded with its golden glory the 
 httle scene. Then I spoke, and thus addressed 
 the flowers. * Oh, beauteous rose 1 oh gentle 
 lilly ! and you, ye sister flowerets, wherefore 
 are ye happy ?' and with one voice they re- 
 plied — * Happiness is part of our existence — 
 without it we should die — it comes to us in 
 the sunny morn, and stays with us in the dewy
 
 312 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 night — we were created beautiful, and our 
 beauty is to diffuse happiness on man '/ 
 
 "So I took myself from the beauteous gar- 
 den, and hied off to the stilly woods. The 
 shadows fell aslant the grass, and formed 
 patterns in the sunlight, which gently hid 
 itself among them ; and high up in the lofty 
 boughs did the tiny birds warble and sing in 
 music that made my heart leap for joy — and 
 I cried ' sweet songsters of the woods, of 
 what do your notes tell ?' A chorus replied, 
 ' We tell of our Creator's goodness in adding 
 melody to ^Jhe happiness of man.' Then I, 
 too, sang a song of praise. Trom thence I 
 descended into the valley and sought the 
 abode of man. A brooklet murmured through 
 the glen, and from it a maiden filled her 
 pitcher ; then bearing it aloft on her head, 
 would have moved away, but I lifted my voice 
 and said : ' Stay maiden, and tell me the 
 feeling of thy heart.' Then her face grew 
 smiling and she replied : ' My heart feels 
 more glad than I can express ?' and I asked, 
 ' Wherefore — art thou rich ?' A silvery laugh 
 reached my ears, and her answer to me was, 
 ' are riches happiness ?' Then said I, " Thou
 
 LUCY AYLMER. 313 
 
 speakest right — art thou then learned?' 'Even 
 so/ the maiden answered * learned in the 
 arts to make my home happy !' she smiled on 
 me and was gone. And as I stood silent and 
 still, an aged man passed me by, and I said : 
 * Pause awhile, oh, venerable stranger ! Tell 
 me, can'st thou find happiness on earth ?' 
 He stayed and leant him on his staff — his 
 form was bent, and his eyes were dim — and 
 methought here was misery 1 but he gave an- 
 swer unto me : ' My happiness on earth is great, 
 for it is found in looking unto Heaven !' He 
 moved on his way, his step was f3eble, but he 
 gazed upwards. And I, too, turned mine 
 eyes towards the heavens ; a pure blue spread 
 across them, and the sun lighted up a knot of 
 showy clouds and methought, if earth were 
 so sweet, what must glory be ! Then I lay 
 down on a bank and slept ; and as I slept, 
 I dreamed an angel's wings passed o'er me, 
 and the crystal tones of an angel's voice whis- 
 pered in mine ear : ' Blessed are they that do 
 His commandments, that they may have a 
 right to the tree of life, and may enter in 
 through the gates into the city.' Then I 
 awoke, and happiness encircled the earth like 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 LUCY AYLMER. 
 
 a crown ; and behold ! sorrow was not, for the 
 Shepherd King watched over us/' 
 
 The Countess ceased, there was a moment's 
 silence, and then she rose, and unclasping a 
 costly bracelet, fastened it on Lucy's arm, then 
 kissing her fair brow, looked round and said : 
 " Have I universal approval ?" There was 
 but one voice, all approved ; then Cecil said : 
 
 " We must crown our queen." And he 
 and Lady Elora fetched fair flowers from the 
 conservatory, and wove Lucy a crown. 
 
 That was a bright evening. Lucy had 
 made every one glad. They talked of hap- 
 piness, sang songs of happiness, formed plans 
 of happiness. 
 
 Happiness ! — to which of that group did it 
 show its bright countenance, and o'er which 
 did shadows steal ? Patience ! this like other 
 events will show itself as time rolls on. 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
 
 
 
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