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 LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
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 1843a 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 JAN 
 
 3i 
 
 n)?B 
 
 L161 — O-1096
 
 HARGRAVE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 A MAN OF FASHION. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. TROLLOPE, 
 
 AUTHORESS OF " THE WIDOW BARNABY," ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY COJ.BURN, PUBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, 
 
 1843.
 
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The gayest house in Paris during the winter 
 of 1834-5 was that of Mr. Hargrave. It was 
 a noble and elegant mansion in the Rue de 
 Lille, the whole ground-floor and premier of 
 which were occupied by his family, and con- 
 tained apartments which might have accommo- 
 dated two or three French families of fashion ; 
 but Mr. Hargrave was an Englishman of 
 expensive habits, with a very decided taste 
 for comforts and luxuries of all kinds. 
 
 The number of his family would not, indeed, 
 have seemed to require such ample range, for 
 it consisted of two young girls only ; but it 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z HARGRAVE. 
 
 was his pleasure that they should be lodged 
 with greater magnificence than any other 
 young ladies of private station in Paris. 
 
 With the undivided possession of the rez- 
 de-chaussee, they had the undivided possession, 
 also, of the noble garden, which, with its 
 groves of forest-trees and wide expanse of 
 lawn, spread behind it. Mr. Hargrave was a 
 man of great taste, and of an inventive fancy, 
 which wantoned in the embellishment of every 
 thing around him ; so that his dwelling was 
 not only ample, well appointed, and magni- 
 ficent, but graceful, fanciful, and picturesque 
 in the extreme. 
 
 The two pretty creatures for whom all this 
 elegance was provided shewed well in the 
 midst of it ; and the critical eye of Mr. 
 Hargrave, as he watched their graceful move- 
 ments, reflected by polished mirrors, and illu- 
 mined by a hundred wax-lights, often turned 
 from their brilliant entourage to them, and 
 from them to their brilliant entourage, in 
 doubt as to which embellished the other most. 
 
 He was, in truth, exceedingly fond of both ;
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 3 
 
 although the entire sum of tenderness be- 
 stowed upon them was by no means equally- 
 divided ; one only being his own child, and 
 the other the daughter of his deceased wife 
 by a former marriage. Hargrave's handsome 
 fortune had been made in trade ; his father 
 having been a highly respected City banker. 
 But though no degradation of any sort could 
 attach to this, inasmuch as his own education 
 was the same as that of the highest aristocracy, 
 and the society of the worthy banker chosen 
 always with a view to the advancement of his 
 only hope and only heir, Charles Hargrave 
 preferred Paris to London for the display of 
 his wealth, because he fancied, not only that it 
 went farther and distinguished him more, 
 but also that its origin was less likely to be 
 inquired into. In this, however, it is probable 
 that he was mistaken ; for, let folks think 
 what they like, the ancient aristocracy of 
 France is not worn out yet ; and though it 
 may be somewhat the fashion in the market- 
 place to seem to forget the difference between 
 those whose shields won their bearin":s beneath
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the oriflamme and those whose shields are 
 innocent of any bearings at all, it may fairly 
 be doubted if a nouveau riche ranks higher in 
 France than in England. 
 
 Be this as it may, Charles Hargrave, having 
 displayed himself for two seasons in Paris after 
 the death of his father, contrived, either by 
 means of his handsome person, or his agree- 
 able address, or his large fortune, or by the 
 power and force of all these combined, to 
 fascinate and lead captive the pretty widow 
 of M. le Vicomte de Cordillac, with an income 
 of twenty thousand francs, and no incumbrance 
 save a little daughter of two years old, who 
 was to inherit the property after her. 
 
 This union gave birth to a second little girl, 
 born exactly three years after the first ; but, 
 notwithstanding this difference of age, the 
 children grew up with the strongest affection 
 for each other : the mother seemed equally 
 fond of both, and the pleasant-tempered Har- 
 grave, although he certainly felt that Adcle de 
 Cordillac was not his daughter, and that 
 Sabina Hargrave was, ruled them both with so
 
 HARGRAVE. O 
 
 silken a rein and such even-handed justice, 
 that the family harmony was never disturbed 
 by this variety of race. 
 
 Nor had his wife ever reason to regret that 
 she had selected the rich and elegant stranger 
 in preference to all the native adorers who 
 addressed her. The marriage was, in fact, a 
 very happy one. Mr. Hargrave continued to 
 admire his wife to the end of her days; and, 
 what was more important still, perhaps, to 
 their conjugal felicity, every body else con- 
 tinued to admire her, too. Had it been other- 
 wise, it is probable that not all the sweetness 
 of temper, propriety of conduct, sparkling 
 talent, nor even her unchanging affection for 
 himself, would have sufficed to preserve unim- 
 paired the sentiment which had first brought 
 him to her feet, and which continued to render 
 the union a happy one to its close. 
 
 Those who have not been led by some 
 accident or other to study the effects of vanity 
 in characters where it greatly predominates, 
 have little comprehension of its strength. 
 There is probably no passion, from the very
 
 6 HARGRAVE. 
 
 lowest to the most sublime, from the tenderest 
 to the most brutal, which more deeply dyes 
 with its influence the mind where it takes 
 root. Greatly do those mistake who call it a 
 "little" passion, — it is a great, an absorbing, 
 a tremendous one. Its outward bearing, in- 
 deed, when the feeling is unskilfully permitted 
 to catch the eye, may often seem trivial, and 
 provoke more smiles than sighs; but its in- 
 ward strength of influence is not to be judged 
 thereby. As little do the graceful sinuosities 
 of the constrictors' wavy movements give notice 
 of the deadly gripe into which they can con- 
 tract themselves, as do the bland devices which 
 purvey to a vain man's appetite announce the 
 insatiable voracity that is to be fed, or the 
 unscrupulous means which may be resorted to 
 in order to content it. 
 
 The death of his wife was a severe blow to 
 Mr. Hargrave's happiness. She had been for 
 years the bright and beautiful centre of that 
 system, unequalled for its brilliance through- 
 out Paris, of which he was himself the creator, 
 and by which his wealth, his magnificence, hi^
 
 HARGRAVE. 7 
 
 taste, his hospitality, Jiis graceful talents, and 
 Ms great importance in the world of fashion, 
 were made known to all the civilised world. It 
 was a severe stroke ; and nothing less powerful 
 than the passion which received and smarted 
 under it could have enabled him to rally as he 
 did, and start forth in his career anew. 
 
 But this enviable effect of a buoyant and 
 elastic spirit could not by possibility shew itself 
 openly during the first months of heavy mourn- 
 ing, in which, of course, the whole family were 
 enveloped. Inwardly, however, it very soon 
 had its effect ; and even while the crape- 
 shrouded Adele poured out his coffee on one 
 side, and the pale Sabina, clad in sable weeds, 
 tendered him the Dthats on the other, before 
 either of them had left the house, except to go 
 to mass (for all the family were Roman Catho- 
 lic), he began to contemplate, more critically 
 than he had ever before done, the peculiar 
 style of beauty of each, and to soothe his 
 widower fancy by picturing to himself the 
 effect they would produce when the time 
 should come for recalling around him all the
 
 8 HARGRAVE. 
 
 eyes in Paris worthy to pass judgment, and 
 all the voices capahle of bestowing fame. 
 
 Little did they guess, poor girls ! as they 
 hovered mournfully near him, stilling their 
 own deep grief, lest the sight of it should add 
 to his, that the earnest gaze which was turned 
 first to the one and then to the other fair face, 
 was meditating what colours in the flowery 
 chaplets which his fancy wove, would best set 
 off the clear rich brown of Adele's cheek, and 
 which decorate with most effect the fair-haired 
 delicacy of Sabina. They fancied, pretty crea- 
 tures, that his kind heart was wrung by think- 
 ing of their motherless condition ; and their 
 pity for each other, and their pity for them- 
 selves, and their pity for him, were so increased 
 thereby, that, spite of all they could do to 
 prevent it, the tears burst forth anew, till the 
 bright black eyes of the one, and the soft blue 
 eyes of the other, were so miserably swollen 
 and disfigured as to force the distressed 
 widower to turn his thoughts inwards, where 
 he found the only consolation he was capable 
 of receiving, from remembering that tears
 
 HARGRAVE. 9 
 
 were invariably set aside at the same time that 
 black dresses were taken off, and that six 
 months would amply suffice for the use of 
 both. 
 
 Fortunately for Mr. Hargrave, his charm- 
 ing wife was taken from him on the 15th of 
 June ; the Paris season therefore was over ; 
 and change of scene — that much-vaunted re- 
 medy for sorrow — might be administered to his 
 daughters and himself, without losing much of 
 that elixir of life which his soul best loved, 
 and which was only to be found within the 
 charmed circle of the French capital. 
 
 "We must leave this sad home of ours, 
 dear girls!" said he, in a voice of profound 
 emotion. " It is too — too sad for us all! 
 There is no object we can look upon but brings 
 a fresh pang with it I ... . We will but wait 
 for the arrival of your aunt, my dear children, 
 before we set off for some new scene, which, 
 from being unknown to us in the days of our 
 happiness, will, I trust, be less painful to us 
 than this." 
 
 " Dear papa ! . . . . Dear, dear papa!" said 
 b2
 
 10 HARGRAVE. 
 
 both the weeping girls at once : and they 
 hung about him in a manner so gentle, so 
 caressing, and, as he remarked, so graceful 
 also, that he permitted himself to be comforted 
 by the anticipation of the effect his drawing- 
 rooms would produce next season, when opened 
 under the presiding grace of two such beauti- 
 ful creatures. 
 
 Another point on which Mr. Hargrave was 
 singularly fortunate was the facility with 
 which circumstances enabled him to supply 
 his young ladies with that most indispensable 
 article — a chaperone ; and not only did he 
 achieve this with ease, but in a manner which, 
 in his estimation, was absolutely perfect. 
 
 Madame de Hautrivage, the sister of his 
 lamented wife, was, it is true, as unlike her 
 in most respects as it was well possible for a 
 sister to be ; but, fortunately, this dissimilitude 
 did not extend to birth, or station in society, 
 or style of dress, and was therefore compara- 
 tively but of small importance. Both sisters 
 were nte de Tremouille, and both had married 
 nobly, so that no reasonable objection could be
 
 HARGRAVE. 11 
 
 made to the arrangement which constituted 
 Madame de Hautrivage a member of his family. 
 
 The only point of contrast, however, between 
 the two sisters which caused Madame de 
 Hautrivage any regret was, that on the death 
 of her noble husband, instead of finding her- 
 self, as her elder sister had done before her, 
 the mistress of twenty thousand francs a-year, 
 she could not discover, after the most minute 
 and careful investigation, that she could lay 
 claim to a revenue of as many sous. The noble 
 nephew of her noble husband had claimed, and 
 taken possession of, all which his thriftless 
 uncle had left ; and how it was that Madame 
 de Hautrivage contrived to retain her place in 
 the first society without any visible diminution 
 of the elegance of her toilet or her equipage, 
 nobody appeared very clearly to understand. 
 
 Such, however, was the case ; and she was 
 therefore evidently the most eligible person 
 Mr. Hargrave could possibly have chosen for 
 the all-important office of chaperone to her two 
 motherless nieces. 
 
 The choice of the retreat in which the next
 
 12 HARGRAVE. 
 
 six months were to be passed was regulated 
 chiefly by distance ; Mr. Hargrave, in his then 
 desolate condition, caring little for any thing 
 save the power of finding himself sufficiently 
 removed from all his friends and acquaintance, 
 to permit his recovering his spirits and usual 
 power of enjoyment without impropriety. 
 
 Adele and Sabina rejoiced unfeignedly as 
 they watched this admirable effect ** of change 
 of scene;" and not the less so, certainly, for 
 its having brought them, for the first time in 
 their lives, within reach of some of the wild- 
 est and most lovely country in the world. 
 For the retreat chosen by Mr. Hargrave for 
 the recovery of his spirits under the calamity 
 which had befallen him, was Baden-Baden, at 
 once the most attractive imaginable to the 
 lovers of pleasure and the lovers of solitude, — 
 to the votary of the gaming-table, and the 
 worshipper of Nature, — to the blase spirits 
 who seek relief from the heavy vacuum of 
 their own .inanity, and to the happy, healthful 
 being who can draw ecstasy from the bright 
 torrent of the Mourg, and feel themselves in
 
 HARGRAVE. 13 
 
 Elysium when wandering among the dreamy 
 solitudes of the five forests in its vicinity. 
 Mr. Hargrave had heard much of Baden- 
 Baden in hoth ways, and judiciously deter- 
 mined upon making choice of it, hecause it 
 would enable each individual of his own dear 
 world (the world of Paris fashion) to judge of 
 his occupations there according to their various 
 tempers. The men of pleasure might say, 
 ** Hargrave is right ; at Baden-Baden one 
 may learn to forget all things, even death 
 itself; '* and the sentimentalist would be sure 
 to declare that no country in Europe could 
 furnish haunts equally favourable to the in- 
 dulgence of the sadness so dear to the bereaved 
 heart as those purlieus of the Black Forest 
 which may be found in its neighbourhood. 
 
 Thus all the mourners were as well pleased 
 as mourners could be ; for Madame de Hau- 
 trivage assured them all, separately and con- 
 jointly, that she had now but one single object 
 in life, which was to see all and every one of 
 them doing, saying, seeing, hearing, and feel 
 ing, exactly what they liked best.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Those who know Baden-Baden will readily 
 allow, that nowhere could the really mourning 
 sisters have found so much to make them re- 
 joice that they had left the scene of their still 
 fresh sorrow behind them. *' Papa is right, 
 Sabina !" said Adele, wonder-stricken and en- 
 chanted, as she stood upon the mouldering 
 walls of the Alt Schloss, and looked out upon 
 the distant Rhine. " How well must he know 
 the nature of the human heart ! I would 
 not have believed, Sabina, that any thing 
 could have so taken me out of myself, as it 
 were, as do the glorious scenes of this enchant- 
 ing region. Never, never can we either of us 
 forget our mother ! I would rather lay down 
 beside her, in cold forgetfulness of all things
 
 HARGRAVE. 15 
 
 earthly, than not remember her. But here 
 something seems to mix itself with the thought 
 ^ of her, that takes away the bitterness, and only 
 leaves a feeling of soft and mellowed melan- 
 choly that I would not be without." 
 
 Sabina answered only by pressing the arm 
 she held ; with a spirit less capable of kindling 
 at the touch of every happy emotion, the 
 younger girl had, perhaps, greater depth of 
 feeling, or, at any rate, greater pertinacity of 
 sorrow ; for it required longer to bring her to 
 the consciousness of all the blessings which 
 Nature had still in store for her. But by de- 
 grees she too acknowledged that it was a great 
 comfort to be so far from " dismal Paris ;" and 
 that no one, she was sure, but her own 
 dear, dear papa, would ever have thought 
 upon a scheme so admirably calculated to heal 
 their aching hearts. 
 
 There was one point, however, upon which 
 this dear papa could never persuade either 
 sister to agree with him ; and this was upon 
 the great advantages to be derived, for their 
 health and spirits, from attendance morning
 
 16 HARGRAVE. 
 
 and evening at the public rooms. On this 
 point the two girls felt perfectly alike, and 
 though most lively and affectionately grateful 
 for the tender anxiety which prompted the 
 proposal, they steadily adhered to their first 
 assurance, — that they could not appear in 
 public while they wore mourning, and that 
 they would not shorten the usual period for 
 wearing it by a single day. 
 
 To do Mr. Hargrave justice, he never, either 
 in his own family or any where else, attempted 
 to obtain concessions by his authority which 
 were refused to his gentle, and, in most cases, 
 irresistible entreaties. So Adele and Sabina 
 were permitted to have their own way in this ; 
 and moreover, with the same indulgence which 
 he had ever shewn to the wishes of both, he 
 permitted them also, with the attendance of a 
 certain venerable Roger Humphries, the only 
 English servant in his establishment, to pass 
 most of their mornings in driving about the 
 singularly wild and beautiful country which 
 surrounded them. 
 
 This unlimited furlough for wandering,
 
 HARGRAVE. 17 
 
 though it extended pretty nearly ad libitum as 
 to the hours of daylight, must not be censured 
 as an indiscretion on the part of Mr. Har- 
 grave ; for old Roger was no ordinary domes- 
 tic, and, by way of a protector upon all such 
 excursions as the sisters indulged in, was well 
 worth a dozen chaperons. As it is likely 
 enough that this rather singular serving-man 
 may repeatedly appear in the course of the 
 narrative, it may be as well to explain the ori- 
 gin of his position in Mr. Hargrave's family. 
 
 Roger Humphries, who when thus appointed 
 to the post of chevalier ambulant through the 
 Black Forest had well-nigh completed three- 
 score years, occupied in the days of his youth 
 a far different situation under the patronage of 
 Mr. Hargrave's father. How those persons 
 are designated who, being neither principal nor 
 clerk, are constantly visible in a banking esta- 
 blishment, I know not ; but Roger Humphries 
 was one of these. If a door was to be opened or 
 shut, Roger Humphries was at hand to do it ; 
 and if a letter or packet of importance was to 
 be sent, it was to Roger Humphries that the
 
 18 HARGRAVE. 
 
 charge was given. He was a huge man, w^th 
 a small head, and having large features in a 
 face almost too narrow to hold them. His 
 forehead was high, but had nothing of that 
 ample extent which is supposed to indicate 
 organic accommodation for deep thinking ; 
 those, however, who were skilled in reading 
 from external evidence what impulses are 
 active within us and what are not, declared 
 that there was in the character of Roger Hum- 
 phries an adhesiveness of attachment, which 
 would lead him to do much rather than aban- 
 don what he loved. 
 
 Some good or attaching qualities he must 
 have had to induce the elegant Hargrave, 
 w^hose household was monte with an attention 
 to general effect which would have done credit 
 to the grouping master (if there be such a per- 
 sonage) of the Grand Opera, —some attaching 
 qualities Roger Humphries must have had to 
 make Mr. Hargrave not only retain him in his 
 service, but also to permit his personal attend- 
 ance upon himself and his beautiful daughters ; 
 and that, too, positively without any reference
 
 HARGRAVE. 19 
 
 whatever to the effect which the contrast of the 
 old man's appearance, when seen in juxta- 
 position with either himself or them, might 
 produce. 
 
 In truth, Hargrave knew that old Roger 
 almost worshipped him, — he knew that not all 
 the kingdoms of the world, nor the glory of 
 them, would have tempted the old man to 
 leave him, as long as he might he permitted to 
 remain near enough to admire, to love, and to 
 serve him. 
 
 It was with this venerahle attendant, then, 
 seated beside the coachman in the dicky of 
 their elegant open carriage, that Adele de Cor- 
 dillac and Sabina Hargrave penetrated into 
 every approachable recess within ten or twelve 
 English miles of Baden-Baden. Nor were 
 such recesses only deemed approachable to 
 themselves as the carriage could draw near ; 
 for the greatest delight of all, to the two girls 
 escaped for the first time from the tameness of 
 French scenery, was to stroll on foot, followed 
 by the faithful Roger (who took the liberty of 
 carrying a stout staff the while), wherever a
 
 20 HARGR.VVE. 
 
 bolder promontory or a blacker mass of sbade 
 tban usual seduced tbeir imaginations into 
 believinix tliat sometbino: *' new and stranjre " 
 migbt be found tbere. 
 
 In tbis way they probably became more 
 intimately acquainted with all the intricate 
 varieties of this singular locality, than even the 
 Guide-writers themselves ; for whereas these 
 persevering and most useful purveyors for all 
 wonder-seeking travellers go only where they 
 think they can in common honesty invite 
 others to follow tliem, our scramble-loving 
 nymphs delighted especially in getting exactly 
 where they thought that nobody else could get ; 
 and often had they to employ all their elo- 
 quence in order to persuade Roger, that clam- 
 berings and climbings totally impossible for 
 him were both safe and deliijhtfnl for them. 
 At first the old man demurred a little ; but 
 repeated experience at length giving him con- 
 fidence, both in their steadiness of eye and 
 activity of limb, he ceased his remonstrances, 
 and usually sat down with implicit obedience 
 on the spot which the young ladies selected for
 
 HARGRAVE. 21 
 
 his repose, awaiting their return with the im- 
 perturbable patience of a faithful dog. 
 
 Had any one inquired, either of Adele or 
 Sabina, if they had encountered any adven- 
 tures during these exploring excursions, they 
 would assuredly have answered, " Yes, a great 
 many." For if one of them found out a 
 cavern of a dozen feet square in a rock, it was 
 an adventure ; or if the other came upon a 
 holy virgin or a martyred saint enshrined 
 between four narrow stone walls, with an 
 opening of a foot square to peep . out upon 
 their worshippers, it was an adventure ; be- 
 sides a hundred other childish fancies, too 
 silly to mention, all of which served to give 
 interest to their rambles, and to figure in their 
 journals. But excepting such as these, they 
 could not have been said to meet with any ; 
 unless, indeed, a sort of mystical puzzle, pro- 
 duced by the atmosphere at one particular 
 spot which they visited, may be so termed. 
 
 The mountain -road between Baden-Baden 
 and Gernsbach runs over a ridge connecting, 
 as it were, many separate heights together,
 
 22 HARGRAVE. 
 
 each one of which has between It and its 
 neighbour, on both sides, a deep, wild hollow ; 
 some wider, some narrower, some perforated 
 with rocks of a thousand fantastic forms, and 
 others covered with fern, or lined with the 
 dark pine of the region, turning the light of 
 noonday into the blackness of night. 
 
 It happened one morning that the sisters, 
 having in view some object rather more distant 
 than usual, had coaxed old Roger to eat his 
 breakfast before the lark had finished hers ; 
 and the coachman, faithful both for himself and 
 his horses, being punctually at the door by six 
 o'clock A.M., they set off, on rather a foggy 
 and uncertain morning, with the intention of 
 driving along this lovely Burgstrosse, descend- 
 ing to Gernsbach, and then following the 
 course of the Mourg to Eberstein, the cele- 
 brated hunting-seat of the Duke of Baden. 
 
 To complete this project without a breakfast 
 en route was impossible ; but they had ascer- 
 tained that at the foot of the pine-clad moun- 
 tain on which Eberstein is situated, there was 
 a commodious and right pleasant gasthaus at
 
 HARGRAVE. 23 
 
 which this needful rest and refreshment for 
 themselves and their horses could be obtained. 
 
 A short consultation was held with the ser- 
 vants at the door of the hotel, before they set 
 out, as to the chances for a fine day, or the 
 reverse ; and the majority of opinions being 
 in favour of the expedition, the well-pleased 
 girls stepped into the carriage and drove off. 
 
 Though the question had been promptly 
 decided to their wishes by those they had con- 
 sulted, they felt quite aware that the powers of 
 the air were still in doubt about it ; for, as 
 they slowly mounted the steep ascent that 
 leads by this mountain route from Baden, they 
 perceived that they were getting at every step 
 into a denser fog, and began to fear that not 
 only had they a good chance of getting wet to 
 the skin, but also that, if they escaped this 
 disaster, they were pretty sure of escaping all 
 knowledge of the objects they had hoped to 
 look upon ; for did the same kind of atmo- 
 sphere through which they were then passing- 
 continue to envelope them, it was perfectly 
 certain that they would be unable to see the
 
 24 HARGRAVE. 
 
 splendid landscapes of which, on that morning, 
 they were especially in search. 
 
 By degrees, however, the aspect of things 
 improved upon them ; and by the time they had 
 reached that bit of terrace-like road which, 
 having gradually descended for some distance 
 from the highest level of the ridge, runs along 
 the hill's side for the distance of half a mile, 
 they perceived that beautiful effect of moun- 
 tain vapour, which takes place when the sun 
 steps forth to skirmish with it. Here and 
 there the landscape peeped through with all 
 the glow of summer brightness ; while at other 
 points the white mist still hung like a heavy 
 veil upon it, altogether concealing some objects, 
 and shewing others under such delusive forms, 
 as to leave the whole picture shadowy and 
 uncertain. The two girls strained their eyes 
 to ascertain what was w^ater and what was 
 land, and where the heavens ceased and the 
 earth began : but the more they looked at it, 
 the less they comprehended what they saw ; and 
 both declaring, almost in the same breath, that 
 the scene was somehow or other a thousand
 
 HARGRAVE. 25 
 
 times more beautiful than if it had been fully 
 revealed in the broad light of unmitigated sun- 
 shine, they agreed, according to their usual 
 custom when any thing struck them as pe- 
 culiarly beautiful, to stop the carriage, and 
 indulge in gazing about them with all the 
 freedom of pedestrians. 
 
 Adele ordered the coachman to drive slowly 
 on, and wait for them on the summit of the 
 next hill; and then, accompanied by Roger 
 and his staif, they made their way to a small 
 rocky promontory, which, jutting out from the 
 hill's side, gave, in clear weather, a magnifi- 
 cent bird's-eye view of the valley at its foot. 
 Now, the weather, to say the truth, was 
 still any thing but clear, nevertheless, the 
 scene they looked upon was most strangely 
 beautiful, and they bounded forward to the 
 extremest verge of the rock, in hope of seeing 
 more of it. Here, on this extremest verge, 
 they found a youth seated, with his legs over 
 the precipice, his arms folded across his breast, 
 and his eyes intently fixed upon a particular 
 point of the scene below. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 HARGRAVE. 
 
 The young man turned his head as they 
 approached, and, by a sudden and active move- 
 ment recovering his feet, stood before them, 
 cap in hand and bowling low ; but he did 
 not seem inclined to retreat, though there was 
 hardly space enough for the four to stand 
 upon the little platform without danger. The 
 view from this point was, indeed, singularly 
 advantageous for shewing the half-hidden 
 scene below. The pines, whose tops were 
 some of them level with the rock, made a 
 foreground as they gradually sloped down 
 from it, dark as the Venetian tints of Titian, 
 when he throws a mass of foliage across his 
 landscapes to set off their silvery light. In 
 the horizon were distant hills, looming high, 
 and with various objects on and near them, 
 considerably more distinct than usual. But 
 all between looked like an inland ocean stud- 
 ded with islands, and at intervals a group of 
 trees, a village spire, or the lofty gable of a 
 farm-house, starting forth clearly to view, 
 with a sort of incongruous brightness that 
 seemed like the effect of magic. 
 
 It
 
 HARGRAVE. 27 
 
 " Does it not look like a glorious archi- 
 pelago?" said A dele in French; "and might 
 not one almost swear, against all the geo- 
 graphy books in the world, that yonder misty 
 expanse was a noble lake?" 
 
 '* It is no nohle lake which lies before you, 
 ladies," said the young stranger in German ; 
 ** but, nevertheless, there is a lake there, and 
 one, too, of peculiar interest. Just in the 
 midst of that blue mysterious vapour, which 
 seems to have neither definite form nor defi- 
 nite limit, is the well-known Mummelsee, or 
 Fairy Lake, of which so many wondrous tales 
 are told." 
 
 Adele understood German tolerably well, 
 but spoke it scarcely at all ; but to Sabina, 
 who loved its romantic literature and wild 
 legendary lore better than all the other learn- 
 ing of the earth, it was as familiar as either 
 French or English, and she immediately re- 
 plied, without giving much time to meditation 
 upon the propriety of thus entering into con- 
 versation with a stranger, by saying in the 
 same language, —
 
 28 HARGRAVE. 
 
 " Are these wondrous tales connected with 
 facts, sir, or are they merely fairy legends?" 
 
 *' It is not easy," returned the young man, 
 smiling, " to answer your questions, young 
 lady, as briefly as you have stated them, for I 
 could scarcely reply by a simple yes or no to 
 either. That there are strange facts connected 
 with that Fairy Lake, none can deny ; neither 
 would it he consistent with truth to aver that 
 the excited imaginations of those who watch 
 its capricious influence do not exaggerate in 
 their accounts of it. There is a mixture of 
 truth in both these propositions." 
 
 ** Strange facts!" repeated Sabina, whose 
 imagination was decidedly of the excitable 
 class alluded to by the stranger. *' What 
 strange facts, sir?" 
 
 *' There is at this moment beneath your 
 eyes, and almost close to the foot of this rock," 
 returned the young man gravely, *' or, at 
 least, it is generally believed so, an extensive 
 castle, partly in ruins, but in part still capa- 
 ble of giving shelter to man — were there any 
 spirits bold enough to inhabit it — yet you per-
 
 HARGRAVE. 29 
 
 ceive no trace of it. Return to this spot again 
 a few hours hence, and it is possible, nay, I 
 believe probable, that exactly where you now 
 see that silvery mass of floating mist, you will 
 behold a seemingly substantial edifice of stone 
 and mortar."* 
 
 Adele smiled, while Sabina almost trembled, 
 not from fear indeed, but pleasure. And the 
 elder sister, then slightly bowing to the un- 
 known chronicler of the fairies, made a move- 
 ment which indicated her wish of returning to 
 the carriage; but Sabina appeared to have 
 taken root upon the rock where she stood, 
 and with her eyes intently fixed on the misty 
 world below her, seemed totally to have for- 
 gotten all things save the mystical statement 
 to which she had been listening. 
 
 * The locality of this delusive obscurity is selected pui-- 
 posely where no castle stands that the facts of the narrative 
 may not be sifted too closely, and declared to be personal ; an 
 interpretation which has so often attended the writings of the 
 author as to render caution necessary. Such delusions, how- 
 ever, do exist, not only in Germany, but in England. Dover 
 Castle is sometimes perfectly invisible from the heights to the 
 west of the town ; from whence, at other times, it is seen in 
 its fullest glory.
 
 30 HARGRAVE. 
 
 But Adele was twenty-one years old and 
 five months, whereas Sabina was only eighteen 
 and four naonths ; therefore it followed that 
 the more prosaic sister generally regulated 
 on all important occasions the movements of 
 the more poetic one ; and feeling a gentle 
 pressure on her arm which sufficed to recall 
 her to things present, Sabina, too, gave a 
 farewell look into the mysterious valley, and 
 with a blush, a vast deal more roseate than 
 any displayed by Aurora that morning, made 
 a bow to the stranger, a good deal less slight, 
 and a great deal more respectful, than that 
 of her elder sister, and yielded herself to follow 
 the way she led. 
 
 *^ Is not this extraordinary, Adule?" she 
 exclaimed, as soon as they were seated in the 
 carriage, and while she still looked back to 
 the spot they had quitted ; where the young 
 man, now as invisible to her as the wondrous 
 castle of which he told, stood shyly ensconced 
 behind a crag, that he might gaze without 
 offence as the brightest vision his waking eyes 
 had ever looked upon passed away.
 
 HARGRAVE. 31 
 
 '^ I suspect that the young gentleman was 
 only quizzing us," replied Adele. 
 
 '* How can you think so?" returned Sabina, 
 in a tone that almost betokened indignation : 
 *' I never in my life saw any one whom I 
 thought less likely to be impertinent." 
 
 " I did not mean to accuse him of imperti^ 
 nence, Sabina," replied her sister, laughing ; 
 " but you know travellers are always crammed 
 with wonders whenever they think fit to listen 
 with confiding ears to native historians." 
 
 " Native historians ! I do not know what 
 you mean, Adele, by native historians : but I 
 will venture to say, without knowing whether 
 that young man be native or not, that every 
 syllable he uttered was most strictly true.'* 
 
 " And that this Mummelsee is really and in 
 good sooth the haunt of fairies, who build 
 and pull down castles a volonte V' 
 
 ** He never said any such thing, Adele," 
 returned Sabina, gravely. 
 
 "Did he not? Well! never mind what he 
 said," rejoined her sister, laughing; "but just 
 use all your faculties to look at that glorious
 
 32 HARGRAVE. 
 
 gleam of sunshine that has burst out over 
 those distant hills. We shall have a fine day 
 yet, Sabina!" 
 
 " Indeed, I think so ; and I shall enjoy it, 
 oh ! so much — so very much — Adele, if you 
 would make me one promise." 
 
 "What is that, dear?" returned Mademoi- 
 selle de Cordillac, playfully kissing her. " I 
 am ready to promise any thing ! That sun- 
 beam has put me most superlatively in good- 
 humour, for half-an-hour ago I was in despair 
 about the day." 
 
 " Will you promise that, after seeing Eber- 
 stein, you will let us come back by this same 
 road, instead of going round by the valley, as 
 we settled to do yesterday?" 
 
 "In the hope of seeing those fine large eyes 
 and that curly brown hair again, Sabina?" 
 
 " How can you talk such nonsense, Adele ! 
 This coup de soleil seems to have afiected your 
 head very strangely. . . God grant that it may 
 not have made you a fool for life ! . . . What I 
 do hope to see is the castle, and not the curls. 
 Will you promise to come home this way?"
 
 HARGRAVE. 33 
 
 " I am by no means sure," replied Adele, 
 maliciously, " that I shall not be giving a 
 proof of the folly you deprecate if I say yes. 
 However, I will not abuse the power given 
 either by my age or my wisdom, and by this 
 way we will return, sister mine. But, for 
 goodness sake, do not give all your attention 
 to castles which are in the clouds, instead of 
 looking at the humbler glories of the earth. 
 Was there ever any thing more beautiful than 
 that landscape before us, waking into new 
 life, as it does, from the magic touch of a sun- 
 beam ? . . . . Trust me, Sabina, Nature is your 
 only magician. I would not give one of the 
 fleeting shadows produced by those retiring 
 clouds for a whole host of fairies. ... Is it not 
 beautiful 1 " 
 
 Having obtained the desired promise, the 
 young Sabina seemed wisely determined to 
 bring herself back again to the objects before 
 her, and, wherever her thoughts might be 
 wandering, she looked at, and spoke of, all 
 that Adele pointed out. Their breakfast at 
 c2
 
 34 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the foot of Eberstein, at the little inn beside 
 the Mourg, was joyous; and their walk up the 
 long ascent which led thera to the castle, in all 
 ways so agreeable, that they forgot they were 
 not upon level ground. They turned aside, 
 with all befitting reverence, to look at the 
 shrine of the Virgin within the little Reingel 
 chapel, and listened to the legend which re- 
 counted how the queer little figure, to which 
 so many holy pilgrims still bow, got into it ; 
 and, lastly, they stepped out with ecstasy un- 
 bounded and inexpressible upon the marvellous 
 terrace that surrounds this most beautiful of all 
 Baden's glorious ducal residences. 
 
 In short, the long morning was spent in 
 great enjoyment by both the sisters ; but when 
 the time came for turning their horses' heads 
 homewards, it was evident that the elder 
 had yielded herself more wholly to the visible 
 beauties it had sfiven to their view than the 
 younger, for Adele had forgotten all about the 
 castle in the clouds, and told Roger, as she 
 stepped into the carriage, that they were to fol- 
 low the course of the river on their road home,
 
 HARGRAVE. 35 
 
 and be very careful not to keep papa's dinner 
 waiting. But not so Sabina. Whether the ex- 
 quisite beauty of Eberstein had put the magical 
 edifice out of her thoughts during the time 
 she was actually looking at it may be doubtful, 
 but most certain is it that the moment she 
 heard this command of her sister's, she ex- 
 claimed with very great earnestness upon the 
 sin of broken faith, and declared that she 
 should be more disappointed than she had 
 words to tell if they did not return by the 
 same road they came. 
 
 " Mercy on me !" cried the well-nigh weary 
 Adele, starting forward from the snug corner 
 into which she had thrown herself. *' I had 
 totally forgotten all about it, Sabina. But I 
 would not have you disappointed for the world. 
 Tell the coachman to return by the road we 
 came, Roger, and to stop exactly at the same 
 spot where we got out this morning. But 
 do you really think, Sabina, that you shall 
 have strength enough to get out again ?" she 
 added. *' In general I can stand fatigue bet- 
 ter than you do ; but now, I confess, I am
 
 36 HARGRAVE. 
 
 fairly beat; and I hardly think I would get 
 out of the carriage again to see St. Peter's. 
 
 Do you really think you shall get 
 
 out?" 
 
 *' Yes, Adele, I think 1 shall," replied Sa- 
 bina, quietly ; and no more was said on the 
 subject till the carriage stopped, and Roger 
 appeared at the door to announce that they 
 had reached the place where they had quitted 
 it in the morning. 
 
 "Yes! This is it!" cried Sabina, eagerly 
 preparing to spring out. 
 
 *'You are not really going to leave the 
 carriage, Sabina, are you ?" said the half- 
 sleeping Adele. " I am quite sure you will 
 see nothing, for it is getting to be dark al- 
 ready. Look out from hence. You will see 
 quite as much as from the rock, I'll answer 
 for it." 
 
 But the younger sister was rebellious ; and, 
 promising to come back directly, ran forward 
 faster than Roger could follow. With unde- 
 viating steps she reached precisely the same 
 spot on which she had before stood ; and look-
 
 HARGRAVE. 37 
 
 ing down into the valley perceived, with a 
 degree of astonishment which made her heart 
 beat, and her colour change, exactly such a 
 castle as the stranger had described, apparently 
 close to the foot of the rock on which she 
 stood. She uttered an exclamation of wonder 
 and delight, and stood for several minutes 
 hanging over the beetling rock, contemplating 
 with ever-increasing surprise the wide extent, 
 the massive strength, and the near vicinity, of 
 a fabric which a few hours before had been 
 utterly invisible. 
 
 The first thrilling emotion which this sight 
 inspired being over, she remembered the 
 scoffing scepticism of Adele, and turning to the 
 old attendant, who had by this time overtaken 
 her, desired he would go back with all the 
 speed he could make to the carriage, and tell 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac that she must come 
 to her directly. 
 
 Roger was not a man to dispute the com- 
 mands of Mr. Hargrave's daughter ; and, 
 however little disposed for more walking, he 
 immediately obeyed. But scarcely had he got
 
 38 IIARGRAVE. 
 
 beyond her sight, than Sabina was startled by 
 the apparition of the same tall figure, large 
 eyes, curly hair, and all, which had greeted 
 her on the self-same spot in the morning. 
 
 It is no paradox to say, that had she been 
 less frightened, she would have been more 
 shocked. To a young girl, brought up at a 
 first-rate French seminary, with the strictest 
 attention to Parisian etiquette, the idea of 
 finding herself, by her own imprudence, alone 
 with an extremely handsome young man, on 
 an isolated pinnacle of rock, in, or near, the 
 Black Forest, seven minutes after the sun had 
 gone down, would have been quite enough at 
 any other moment to have sent her flying off 
 with more than Atalanta's speed of foot to join 
 her sister. But now she was spell-bound : 
 not, however, as it was possible that her saucy 
 sister might have suggested, merely bv some 
 sudden sympathy with the young stranger 
 himself, — her feelings were of a less mundane 
 and ordinary kind. His sudden and unac- 
 countable reappearance the moment she was 
 alone, had something in it so strangely analo-
 
 HARGRAVE. 39 
 
 gous to the still more unaccountable re- 
 appearance of the castle, and to the mystic air 
 of the changed landscape, according to his own 
 exact prediction of it, that she actually trem- 
 bled from head to foot with a genuine super- 
 stitious feeling. 
 
 I would here fain say something, if it were 
 possible, to prove that my pretty Sabina was 
 less silly than poetical ; more abounding in 
 imagination than deficient in judgment ; and 
 altogether, a great deal more to be admired 
 than despised, for the emotion which made 
 her fancy herself on the precincts of another 
 world ; — while, in fact, she was only co^fitem- 
 plating the clear obscure of a delicious twi- 
 light in this. But I am perfectly aware that 
 nothing I can just at present say on the subject 
 would suffice to satisfy such carping critics as 
 would make no allowance for a young lady, 
 deeply versed in all the wild legends of Teu- 
 tonic diablerie, and visiting the^ land which she 
 had learned to consider as the favourite battle- 
 field of fiends, and paradise of fairies, for the 
 first time. It may, therefore, be wisest to let
 
 • JJ 
 
 40 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the matter rest, trusting to the chance of her 
 finding some sympathising friends, among 
 those who are as young and fanciful as herself. 
 
 But the species of poetical trance into 
 which Sabina thus fell did not last long. 
 Propriety resumed her accustomed power, and 
 thrusting blushing Imagination into the back- 
 ground, enabled her, when the young stranger 
 exclaimed, '* Said 1 not truth, lady ?" to reply 
 with a very respectable degree of nonchalance, 
 " Ho, wohl, Meinherr," and with a slight bow 
 and rapid step, to leave the young magician as 
 he stood, — the gratified hope of her arrival, 
 and the vexing disappointment of her depart- 
 ure, holding him transfixed between them. 
 
 Sabina reached the carriage very nearly as 
 soon as the more deliberate Roger, and in 
 time to prevent the reluctant compliance of the 
 tired Adele with the request she had sent by 
 him. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad you are come back, 
 Sabina," she exclaimed. " Then you do not 
 insist upon my getting out ?" 
 
 *' No, Adele, no," replied the fluttered girl.
 
 HARGRAVE. 41 
 
 hastily resuming the place she had left beside 
 her. *' It was no use waiting till you came ; it 
 is getting so late ; and, besides, I can tell you 
 all about it." 
 
 *' To be sure you can ; and I shall like it a 
 prodigious deal better, I assure you. Did the 
 curly locks say sooth ? Is there really a castle 
 there ?" 
 
 *' Yes," replied Sabina, in an accent of 
 considerable solemnity. " Yes, Adele, there is 
 a castle there." 
 
 *' You don't say so ! . . . Well, I am very 
 glad of it ; and now I shall go to sleep again. 
 I verily believe we must have walked a dozen 
 miles to-day, for I never was so tired in my 
 life;" and so saying. Mademoiselle de Cor- 
 dillac nestled again into her corner, closed her 
 eyes, and positively did go fast asleep ; thereby 
 rendering it quite impossible for Sabina to 
 *' tell her all about it" at that time. And it 
 was long before the inclination to do so re- 
 turned upon her. There is no class of feelings 
 and ideas so completely dependent upon acci- 
 dent and locality as that which belongs to
 
 42 HARGRAVE. 
 
 poetical exaltation of all sorts. It was from 
 no want of confidence in her sister, nor from 
 any painful consciousness of feelings that she 
 ought to hide, which for many months pre- 
 vented Sabina's again alluding to the mys- 
 terious castle or to the youthful stranger whom 
 she had seen in its vicinity ; for as the world, 
 and the world's prosaic realities, again closed 
 round her, she felt too strongly the childishness 
 of the emotions they had inspired, to wish to 
 talk about them. 
 
 This adventure, such as it was, and though, 
 perhaps, hardly deserving of the name, was 
 the only one which occurred to the fair sistei's 
 during their summer ramblings round Baden- 
 Baden. In a different way, meanwhile, Mr. 
 Hargrave and Madame de Hautrivage pur- 
 sued their course, also, with considerable en- 
 joyment, though but little variety. The library, 
 the public rooms, and the ever gay and moving- 
 scene in the noble portico before them, sufficed, 
 with their late rising, to fill up the day. And 
 thus gradually wore away the months of sum- 
 mer and of sorrow. Not but that Mr. Har-
 
 HARGRAVE. 43 
 
 grave still very sincerely lamented the loss of 
 his elegant wife, — and her two young daugh- 
 ters would either of them have given a right 
 hand to have brought her back again, — but in 
 exact proportion as their loss was hopeless and 
 irreparable, did unrepining endurance follow it. 
 Such is the benignant lot of nature ! 
 
 As to Madame de Hautrivage, her philosophy 
 required not the aid of any latent provision of 
 Providence, in order to enable her to support 
 her spirits. For the greater part of her life 
 
 she had never omitted to repeat at proper in- 
 tervals, ^^ J* adore ma soeur ! Tout le monde 
 
 V adore!'' And her part of the amiable Ma- 
 dame Hargrave's funeral obsequies having been 
 performed by her pronouncing these same sen- 
 tences with no other alteration than changing 
 the present tense into the preterite, she gave 
 herself without scruple to the agreeable con- 
 sciousness of having secured a home where she 
 should be able to dress in a very superior style, 
 and save money into the bargain.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 We must now return to the opening of our 
 story, from which a necessary digression has 
 led us. The gayest house in Paris, during the 
 winter of 1834-5, was that of Mr. Hargrave. 
 There was a not a single person of fashion, 
 native or foreiainer — inhabitant of the *' hella 
 ville,'' or only a sojourner there — who did not 
 share its hospitality and contribute to its splen- 
 dour. Mr. Hargrave himself was ever the 
 centre and main-spring of every elegant scene 
 of amusement which went on there ; and much 
 as it may be the fashion among the clever 
 natives of that brilliant capital, while enjoying 
 the costly entertainments of its British visitors, 
 to pronounce them " gauche ct de mauvais ton,'' 
 Mr. Hargrave seemed by common consent to
 
 HARGRAVE. 45 
 
 be declared an exception to the general rule. 
 Every succeeding fete, let it be of what name 
 or nature it might, was declared to be '' le plus 
 parfaite quon avait jamais vu;' and even when 
 no single Englishman was by to listen, it was 
 quite a common thing for them to pronounce 
 among themselves, that, " notwithstanding he 
 was an Englishman, Monsieur Hargrave was a 
 person tout-a-fait comme ilfaut, and actually 
 graceful and agreeable, though not a French- 
 man." 
 
 Of this suffrage, this enviable preference, 
 this intoxicating approbation, Mr. Hargrave 
 was fully aware ; and not only did it constitute, 
 in a great degree, the glory and happiness of 
 his existence, but there is no exaggeration in 
 saying that there was nothing which he would 
 not have done rather than lose it. 
 
 It is not possible to suppose that scenes so 
 splendid, amusements so skilfully chosen, and 
 so ably varied, could fail of being agreeable to 
 the two lovely girls, who seemed eternally to 
 live in an atmosphere of golden light, 
 
 *' Giving and stealing brightness.^'
 
 
 46 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac, in particular, / 
 did most certainly enjoy this portion of her 
 existence very greatly. The natural pleasure 
 which a pretty, elegant, and accomplished girl 
 feels, from being duly appreciated, or, in 
 plain English, greatly admired, and the joys of 
 dancing and music, too, where youth, health, 
 a light heart, and a good ear, assist to give 
 them value, are worth something, when they 
 come without drawback of any kind ; and 
 when to all this is added the carefully arranged 
 absence of every annoyance, and the sedulously 
 sought for presence of every thing agreeable to 
 existence, it is no great wonder if a very lively 
 and very innocent French girl did find herself 
 superlatively happy in the midst of it. This 
 measureless content of the bright-eyed Adele 
 was not, however, fully shared by her half- 
 English sister. Sabina had a much less keen 
 relish for the occupations which are resorted to 
 for mere amusement, and was, moreover, apt 
 to fancy that there was less of mental dignity 
 in mirth than in melancholy. She was, too, less 
 anxious to be popular, and derived infinitely
 
 HARGRAVE. 47 
 
 less gratification from admiration than Adele, 
 who knew no greater joy than to feel that 
 every body around was gay and happy, and 
 that some portion of their gaiety and happiness 
 was derived from her. But this difference be- 
 tween them arose wholly froni temperament, 
 and in no degree from principle ; both being 
 equally pure in heart, and equally ready to 
 have sacrificed any pleasure to what they be- 
 lieved to be their duty. 
 
 Many offers of marriage had been received 
 by Mr. Hargrave for both the girls, but the 
 answer was ever the same — *' They are in no 
 haste to marry ; nor am I in haste that they 
 should change their present state of unalloyed 
 happiness for one more doubtful." This an- 
 swer was, of course, without appeal ; for though 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac's pecuniary inde- 
 pendence of her step-father was perfectly well 
 known, no Frenchman of sufficient rank in 
 society to be received as a familiar guest by 
 Hargrave, would have been hardy enough so 
 completely to break through established usage 
 as to request the young lady to judge for her-
 
 48 HARGRAVE. 
 
 self. And even if they had, there was little 
 choice of their receiving any more favourable 
 answer. 
 
 But though Frenchmen are not in the habit of 
 requesting young ladies of fortune and fashion 
 to receive their addresses entirely from inclina- 
 tion, and not from the influence of either cus- 
 tom or authority, there was a young English- 
 man at that time in Paris, who had been 
 educated under a different code of manners, 
 and who, having fallen gradually, but pro- 
 foundly, in love with Adele de Cordillac, 
 thought of nothing but making himself accept- 
 able to her, and to her only, without giving 
 a thought to the possible influence of Mr. Har- 
 grave. Alfred Coventry knew perfectly well 
 that, if he could be happy enough to win the 
 affection of Adele, there was nothing in his 
 fortune, connexions, or character, which would 
 render it probable that her inclinations would 
 be thwarted bv her friends : and to this sweet 
 occupation of winning his way to her heart he 
 devoted himself, from the moment that he be- 
 came thoroughly and conscientiously convinced
 
 HARGRAVE. 49 
 
 that he could be well content to make the 
 study of her happiness the occupation of his 
 future life. 
 
 It was long, however, before Adele began 
 to understand how very much he was in 
 earnest. Accustomed from her first appear- 
 ance in society to universal admiration, and 
 equally accustomed to the belief that this had 
 nothing whatever to do with her future settle- 
 ment in life, she learned nothing from the 
 marked attention of Mr. Coventry but that 
 he was infinitely more agreeable than any 
 other man of her acquaintance. 
 
 The incessant dissipation in which the Paris 
 season was passed, and the rapid succession 
 of engagements, which invariably included all 
 the most distinguished members of its society, 
 rendered the intercourse between these two 
 people of almost daily recurrence ; and they 
 danced together so constantly, and talked to- 
 gether so much, that Madame de Hautrivage, 
 who had early in the acquaintance made what 
 she called proper inquiries in the proper 
 places, began to flatter herself that her 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 HARGRAVE. 
 
 beautiful niece was about to form a con- 
 nexion in every way worthy of her. For some 
 days after this conviction came upon her, 
 Madame de Hautrivage waited with tolerable 
 patience for the proposals, which she felt per- 
 fectly certain her brother-in-law would receive, 
 and forthwith announce to her; but finding 
 that nothing of the sort came, and that Mr. 
 Hargrave seemed absolutely insensible to the 
 necessity of bringing the business to a con- 
 clusion before the end of the season, it 
 occurred to her that she was herself the most 
 proper person to receive the overtures, which, 
 perhaps, the shy young Englishman had hardly 
 courage to make; and, accordingly, she took 
 care at his next visit to have him shewn into 
 an unoccupied salon, where she speedily 
 joined him. 
 
 Though as far as possible from intending 
 to make an offer of himself to^ie woman he 
 adored through the medium of any onej- jNIr. 
 Coventry was not insensible to the advantages 
 which he derived from being very decidedly 
 in the good srraces of Madame de Hautrivage.
 
 HARGRAVE. 51 
 
 He had seen many a flattering admirer of his 
 lovely Adele sent ^a et Id, upon various 
 frivolous excuses, on purpose, as he very 
 correctly believed, to indulge him with the 
 uninterrupted pleasure of her conversation. 
 For this kindness he was by no means un- 
 grateful, and devoted more time to the being 
 civil to the good lady in return than any 
 other woman, save his beloved, could boast of 
 having won from him. 
 
 There is something very peculiar, and de- 
 manding a good deal of observation de prh 
 in order to comprehend it, in the tone taken 
 occasionally in France by a pretender to a 
 young lady's hand towards the mother or aunt 
 of la belle. It sometimes happens, without, 
 however, giving the slightest ground for scandal, 
 that ladies so circumstanced, and being still 
 a pretension, like to receive, and actually do 
 receive, a very considerable number of sighs, 
 hand'kissings, and tender glances from the 
 identical men who are soliciting their interest 
 with their direct or collateral descendants. 
 In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred this
 
 52 HARGRAVE. 
 
 may fairly be understood to express nothing 
 more than a latent regret on the part of the 
 j^retendant, that he had not flourished at the 
 time when the lady before him might herself 
 have been free to accept his honourable vows ; 
 and though, by gentle degrees, this chastened 
 gallantry merges in all well-regulated families 
 into a tone more consonant to the relationship 
 in which the parties subsequently stand to 
 each other, its existence, while it lasts, is pro- 
 ductive of a good deal of sentimental coquetry, 
 which in some way or another is pi'obably 
 amusing to both parties. 
 
 Madame de Hautrivage was the last woman 
 in the world to think of marrying a niece 
 without coming in for her full share of this 
 species of offering, and was most pleasantly 
 persuaded that she actually did receive it 
 every time Alfred Coventry offered her one 
 arm, while Adele hung upon the other, during 
 a crowded exit from the opera, or eritree to 
 the supper- room o^afite. 
 
 On entering the elegant little salon to 
 which, by her orders, ^Ir. Coventry had been
 
 HARGRAVE. 53 
 
 shewn on the morning that she intended 
 should witness the consummation of her hopes 
 for her eldest niece's estahlishment, she found 
 him engaged in examining a miniature, of 
 which there were many, cased in velvet and 
 gold, lying upon a table. It chanced that the 
 portrait which at that moment occupied his 
 attention was her own, and it was with a sort 
 of tender smile that she remarked it. 
 
 "This is very beautiful," said Mr. Coventry, 
 after paying his compliments to her as she 
 entered. *' I have seldom seen a lovelier 
 face." 
 
 "Ah, flatterer!" she replied, shaking her 
 head ; " I greatly doubt your thinking so." 
 
 But for this bashful disclaiming of his com- 
 pliment, which most assuredly was not in- 
 tended for her, though it was for her picture, 
 Coventry would never have guessed that the 
 one was a " counterfeit presentment " of the 
 other ; for, although Madame de Hautrivage 
 was still what is called " a fine woman," there 
 was but little resemblance between her neatly 
 wigged and carefully rouged face, and the
 
 64 HARGRAVE. 
 
 blooming little Hebe he held in his hand. 
 But thus schooled, he of course took care not 
 to betray his own dulness in tracing a re- 
 semblance, and gallantly replied that nobody 
 could doubt the beauty of the face but her- 
 self. 
 
 She drew near him, and laid a finger on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 *' Come, come, my friend,'' she said, with 
 a slight sigh, " no more of this. It would be 
 great folly to deny that those poor features, 
 such as they are, have been gazed upon by the 
 eye of love ; but this is not a moment for you 
 to think of it ; your thoughts, cher ami, are, 
 and ought to be, elsewhere. French women 
 are proverbially called coquets — I know it! 
 But trust me, Alfred, we are capable of check- 
 ing the tenderness of nature, which leads to 
 this, whenever more important business is to 
 be attended to. Such is the case now; I think 
 not that I am capable of doubting it. Speak 
 then, Mr. Coventry, and be assured that it is 
 not an indifferent ear which will listen to you. 
 When Clementina de Hautrivage professes
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 55 
 
 friendship, it is no weak sentiment which fills 
 her breast." 
 
 As Madame de Hautrivage concluded these 
 words, she placed her right elbow on the palm 
 of her left hand, and shielding her eyes behind 
 the richly jewelled fingers thus supported, 
 seemed to await his answer with that sort of 
 forced composure which arises from high prin- 
 ciple when struggling with sensibility. 
 
 Alfred Coventry understood her perfectly. 
 He knew, as well as she did herself, that she 
 desired he should propose for her niece, and 
 that she was ready to bind him in chains of 
 eternal gratitude by promising her influence 
 in his favour. But rather than have conveyed 
 his fond devotion to Adele through such a 
 medium, and have suffered the eyes which now 
 languished at him between diamond fingers 
 to catch from those of his beloved the first 
 answer to his acknowledged hopes, instead of 
 receiving that hoped-for answer into his own 
 bosom, he would have endured any thing — he 
 would have done any thing, even to making
 
 56 UARGRAVE. 
 
 downright love to the disagreeable personage 
 before him. 
 
 In truth, he felt himself placed in so very 
 awkward and critical a situation by this direct 
 and unexpected appeal, that he saw he must 
 make rather a desperate plunge to get out of 
 it; and knowing that words of the most un- 
 meaning gallantry are a sort of false coin 
 which is permitted to pass current in France, 
 without subjecting the utterer to any heavy 
 pains and penalties, he replied, *' My charm- 
 ing Madame de Hautrivage! can you believe 
 it possible that in your presence the thoughts 
 of any man can turn elsewhere?" 
 
 Under many other circumstances the ex- 
 quisite Clementina de Hautrivage might have 
 listened to this, and much more in the same 
 strain, without perceiving in it any thing out 
 of the common way, or calling for any return 
 beyond the dropping of her eyelids, and, per- 
 haps, a slight sigh. But the case was different 
 now. In the first place, she knew, from con- 
 siderable experience, that the most volage of 
 
 \
 
 HARGRAVE. 57 
 
 Englishmen are, generally speaking, infinitely 
 more in earnest, for tlie time being at least, 
 than the most fidele of Frenchmen. Secondly, 
 the unremitting assiduity of the young man 
 before her could not be mistaken. If he was 
 not in pursuit of Adele de Cordillac, he must 
 be in pursuit of some other of the family. 
 The thing was clear, and admitted not the 
 slightest doubt. Sabina Hargrave it could 
 not be, for he had never distinguished her by 
 any particular attention whatever. But with 
 herself the case was far otherwise ; he had 
 distinguished her — '^ Oh, CielT' could she 
 doubt it ! 
 
 Her relationship with Madame Hargrave 
 had given her some acquaintance with the 
 English language, and at this critical moment 
 she remembered an anecdote of George the 
 Fourth, which had led to a phrase, now passed 
 into a proverb, always pleasantly recalled by 
 beauties of a certain age. 
 
 ** Faat, farre, and forte," she inwardly re- 
 peated, and, with all the quickness of thought, 
 reasoned upon it. '^ Faat — grosse? Je ne 
 d2
 
 58 HARGRAVE. 
 
 suis pas maigre .... Farre, blonde ou belle . . . 
 belle done . . . et n'est-ce pas que je suis belle ? 
 .... Forte . . . . ga veut dire quarante . . . . et 
 bien .... j'ai quarante ans, je le sais .... 
 meme quelques jours de plus .... raais qu'est- 
 ce que cela fait ? . . . . Faat, farre, and forte ! 
 Alfred ! . . . . c'est moi ! . . . . e'est moi que tu 
 aimes ! . . . . Ah, Dieu ! Comment est-ce que 
 je I'ai jamais doute ? " 
 
 During the moment thus employed by the 
 lady, Mr. Coventry had recourse to the mi- 
 niatures, and, as ill luck would have it, again 
 opened that of the Madame Clementina. Had 
 any doubt still remained on her mind, this act 
 would have removed it. What could it mean 
 at such a moment, but that in the extremity of 
 his emotion, her lover found relief in gazing at 
 her portrait rather than at herself? — a por- 
 trait indeed was, as she well knew, a sort of 
 hieroglyphic in love, the mere perusal of 
 which was an act of faith. 
 
 But, although Madame de Hautrivage was 
 thus satisfactorily convinced of his passion, 
 there were other things, besides its existence,
 
 HARGRAVE. 59 
 
 which it deeply behoved her to know, ere she 
 decided upon her own line of conduct in re- 
 turn. Had the young man been a French- 
 man, she would have been less perplexed — 
 but as it was, she had doubts. Did the de- 
 voted, the noble-minded Alfred contemplate 
 marriage? There was nothing cruel in the 
 nature of Madame de Hautrivage, and had she 
 felt certain that he did noty her education and 
 her principles would probably have led her 
 to pass a very lenient judgment on his indis- 
 cretion ; but in her particular position it 
 would be vastly more convenient that he 
 should. She felt called upon, therefore, to act 
 with becoming caution, lest any imprudent 
 symptom of weakness on her part might lead 
 him to change the better line of conduct for 
 the worse. But, while fully impressed with 
 the necessity for this sort of reserve, she at the 
 same time felt it to be absolutely necessary 
 that she should ascertain whether the attach- 
 ment so openly avowed was of the graver or 
 the lighter quality. From her knowledge of 
 mankind in general, as well as from a latent
 
 60 HARGRAVE. 
 
 consciousness that she was not quite so young 
 and so lovely as she had^been, she might, per- 
 haps, have been prematurely led to the con- 
 clusion that Mr. Coventry intended nothing 
 more than one of those liaisons imr amours, 
 for which her happy country was so justly 
 celebrated. But there was a gentle decorum 
 of manner about him, which made her hope 
 better things ; and she very nearly convinced 
 herself during the next five minutes* conver- 
 sation with him, that his views were most 
 strictly honourable, and that she had nothing 
 whatever to fear from the vehemence of his 
 passion, which could militate against the hope 
 — every moment becoming stronger — tliat 
 his purpose was to win her affections, with 
 no other object than to make her his wife. 
 
 After remaining in very idle chit-chat as 
 long as he thought there was any hope of 
 seeing Adele enter, Mr. Coventry's patience 
 gave way, and suddenly rising, he said, — 
 
 " My dearest Madame de Hautrivage, I 
 must wish you good morning ; and must trust 
 to your goodness to excuse the unreasonable
 
 HARGRAVE. 61 
 
 length of the visit I have made. I am not, I 
 confess, without hope that though I have not 
 dared fully to open my heart to you, yet 
 that you have guessed in some degree what is 
 passing there, and that you do not altogether 
 look upon it with displeasure." 
 
 "Thank God!" mentally exclaimed Ma- 
 dame de Hautrivage ; ''he has ventured to 
 speak out at last!" 
 
 ** Mr. Coventry," she replied, " I will not 
 affect to misunderstand you ; such dissimula- 
 tion would be unworthy of us both ; and I 
 am persuaded that I could only lose in your 
 estimation by resorting to it. I scorn to do 
 so, Alfred Coventry, — I scorn the appearance 
 of throwing difficulties in your way, when my 
 own heart tells me that none exist. I have 
 now said enough, I trust, to still the agitation - 
 of your spirits, and to make you feel all the 
 delicious calm produced by hope unchilled 
 by fear. One word more, and you shall leave 
 me, Alfred. Be assured that the delicacy 
 which has prevented your explaining yourself 
 more fully is well appreciated by me ; and
 
 62 HARGRAVE. 
 
 that, thougli a Frenchwoman, and accustomed, 
 perhaps, to plainer speaking, I am not insen- 
 sible to the charm of that reserve which seems 
 ever, in your countrymen, to accompany the 
 most perfect faith and the truest sincerity. 
 May I not thus interpret it, dear Alfred?" 
 
 *' You may, indeed," returned Mr. Coven- 
 try, with great earnestness, and not a little 
 pleased at believing that he had succeeded in 
 propitiating the aunt without forfeiting the 
 dear English privilege of himself confessing 
 his love to the woman who had inspired it. 
 But knowing, as he did, what the manners 
 and customs of" la grande nation" demanded 
 on such occasions, he could not but feel a vast 
 deal of gratitude to the kind-hearted woman 
 who had thus permitted him to break through 
 them all, without testifying the slightest dis- 
 pleasure at it. In truth, at that moment his 
 heart was overflowing with a multitude of 
 happy, gentle, and affectionate feelings ; and 
 not wishing to prolong the dialogue, lest he 
 might be led on to say to another what he 
 had determined to utter only to the ear of
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 63 
 
 Adele, he relieved the overflowing fulness of 
 his emotions by respectfully impressing a kiss 
 on either cheek of his intended aunt. 
 
 Had he not left the room the moment after 
 he had perpetrated this audacity, all the fore- 
 gone conclusions of Madame de Hautrivage 
 might have been overthrown ; and all the 
 satisfactory composure of spirit, derived from 
 the conviction that the sanctity of his honour- 
 able attachment had put a bridle on its ardour, 
 lost. As it was, however, no man ever left 
 a lady more completely satisfied with his words 
 and conduct. For many years she had been 
 labouring, with an expenditure of Machiavel- 
 ism sufficient to maintain the most crafty 
 dynasty that ever ruled, to obtain a second 
 marriage, which might supply the pecuniary 
 difficulties of her first ; and now, at the very 
 moment when she had begun to confess to her 
 heart of hearts that her chance of obtaining this 
 was well-nigh gone for ever, behold her in 
 possession of more than her most sanguine 
 hopes had ever represented as possible! 
 
 It is, I fear, by no means improbable that
 
 64 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the state of things, as thus described, will 
 be censured by my countrywomen as highly 
 unnatural, not to say impossible. But to all 
 such, I would recommend a deeper attention 
 to the character of our fascinating neighbours 
 than they have probably yet given. It must 
 be remembered, in the first place, that though 
 there are doubtless many among us who live, 
 and, fortunately for the happiness of their 
 earthly existence, die in the belief that they 
 are a thousand times more charming than any 
 one else ever thought them, nevertheless, 
 not one of the whole number ever felt that 
 delightful conviction which is common to all 
 Frenchwomen — that if they are ugly, cest 
 tgal ; that if they are ignorant, cest egal ; also, 
 that if their reputation has melted away, not 
 into thin air, but into an atmosphere charged 
 to explosion with 
 
 " Little bints of heavy scandals," 
 
 still cest egal ! For be they as ugly as Hecate, 
 as old as her grandmother, and with a worse 
 reputation, our fair neighbours have each and
 
 HARGRAVE. 65 
 
 all of them the immutable persuasion of pos- 
 sessing a charm, a tournure, a style, a tone, — a 
 something, in short, that is perfectly and al- 
 together irresistible. It is for this that they 
 have invented for themselves a phrase which, 
 in speaking of this extraordinary power of 
 fascination, conveys in four words a description 
 of it. What is the " Je ne sais quoi " so fondly 
 boasted of among them, but this innate as- 
 surance of being bewitching without an}'- 
 possibility of stating the reason why ? Most 
 assuredly, in ninety-nine cases out of a hun- 
 dred, this inexpressible, universal, irresistible 
 attraction, of which no Frenchwoman scruples 
 to confess herself conscious, if strictly inquired 
 into, can only be fitly described by this simple 
 and sincere reply, **Je ne sais quoi!' The 
 phrase may, indeed, be safely declined through 
 every possible voice, mood, and tense, and still 
 be found to furnish an answer most strictly 
 true, — 
 
 ^^ Je ne sais quoi.'' 
 
 *' Tu ne sais quoi"
 
 66 HARGRAVB. 
 
 ^^ 11 ne salt quoi^ 
 
 And when brought to the climax, ** Nous ne 
 saurons jamais,'' it will not, even then, have 
 exceeded its proper limits. Admirable phrase! 
 Perfect alike in its ndivett and its truth ! All 
 the nations of the earth ought, in common 
 justice, to exclaim in chorus, '* We thank 
 thee, France, for giving us that word ! " 
 
 Till all this has been duly inquired into and 
 understood, I must take leave to deprecate the 
 sentence which shall declare the satisfaction of 
 Madame de Hautrivage, after her interview 
 with Mr. Coventry, to be unnatural. So far, 
 indeed, is this from being the case, that had 
 she even been forced to explain the charm in 
 which she confided, with more specific exact- 
 ness than the national formula above quoted 
 supplies, she would have found herself at no 
 loss for it, — for she would have proudly an- 
 swered, — 
 
 ** I am a Frenchwoman!" An answer, 
 by the by, which none can duly appreciate who 
 have not listened to it in the vernacular. The
 
 HARGRAVE. 67 
 
 tone with which " Je suis Fran false " is pro- 
 nounced, being decidedly more pregnant of 
 innate contentment and self-gratulation than 
 any other in the world.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 No sooner was Madame de Hautrivage con- 
 vinced that Mr. Coventry had left the house, 
 than she hastened to the room generally oc- 
 cupied by the young ladies in the morning ; 
 not, indeed, with any fixed intention of com- 
 municating to either of them the scene which 
 had just taken place, but rather to enjoy the 
 consciousness of her own delightful secret in 
 the presence of those who might fancy, per- 
 haps, that they had a better right to be the 
 heroine of such a mystery than herself. 
 
 She found Sabina, as usual, deeply engaged 
 upon a volume of wild German stories, which 
 alternately with the poetry of the same ima- 
 ginative land furnished one of the greatest 
 charms of her existence. She was, indeed, too
 
 HARGRAVE. 69 
 
 completely occupied even to perceive the en- 
 trance of Madame de Hautrivage, and con- 
 tinued to read, v^^ithout raising her eyes. But 
 Adele, though she had a book before her, was 
 very far from bestowing upon it the same de- 
 gree of attention ; she even seemed glad of an 
 excuse to close it, and when her aunt entered 
 the room, threw it aside, and languidly ad- 
 dressed herself to her embroidery frame. 
 
 "Ah! you happy young creatures!" ex- 
 claimed Madame, standing for a moment to 
 contemplate them. "How devoid of all care 
 is the destiny of early youth ! And how little 
 does strong emotion of any kind interfere with 
 your joyous existence !" 
 
 "Joyous!" repeated Sabina, looking up, 
 and shaking her head with a sort of mournful 
 smile. " I do not think, Madame, that you 
 have chosen the epithet well when speaking 
 of Adcile to-day ; for I think I never saw her 
 so little joyous in my life." 
 
 "Ah! Is it so?" said Madame de Haut- 
 rivage, turning her eyes upon her niece, and 
 immediately perceiving that she did indeed
 
 70 HARGRAVE. 
 
 look paler, and less gay than usual. " What 
 is it, Adele ? Are you unwell, my child?" 
 
 "Shall I tell tales, Adele?" said Sahina, 
 laughing. " Shall I tell Madame that you 
 certainly expected Mr. Coventry to call this 
 morning, and are disappointed because he has 
 not made his appearance ?" 
 
 "You are a silly child to utter such non- 
 sense," replied Adele, gravely. ** But, for- 
 tunately, I know that if you really thought any 
 such thing, you would not say it." 
 
 " Upon my word, Adele, you are mistaken," 
 replied her sister. " I am perfectly in earnest 
 in what I say ; and the reason why I have no 
 scruple in uttering it is, that I feel persuaded 
 your aunt knows as well as I do, that Alfred 
 Coventry is going to propose for you, — if he 
 has not done it already." 
 
 A much more mischievous person than Sa- 
 bina might have studied for a month before 
 they could have spoken any thing so calculated 
 to torture Madame de Hautrivage as these 
 few words. From one short, sharp moment of 
 painful thought, the intended bride felt un-
 
 HARGRAVE. 71 
 
 certain as to what line of conduct it would be 
 most judicious to pursue. She looked at Adele 
 with a frowning and indignant brow, and a 
 multitude of hateful surmises chased each other 
 through her brain ; but there was something 
 so particularly innocent and unconscious of 
 offence in the expression of the sweet girl's 
 blushing face, as she bent her head over her 
 work, that her aunt felt convinced that if Sa- 
 bina were right, and that the thoughts of Adele 
 really did wander towards Alfred Coventry, it 
 was not in consequence of any thing which had 
 yet passed between them, but solely from an 
 impulse of some unjustifiable girlish fancy, 
 which it would have been her especial duty to 
 check, even had she no other interest in the 
 business than that of a maternally anxious and 
 watchful friend. 
 
 '* Come with me, Adele, my love," said she, 
 in a voice of much kindness. *' I wish to 
 speak a few words to you in private." 
 
 Adele trembled from head to foot. She 
 doubted not at all, more than the gentle Sa- 
 bina, whose eyes were fixed upon her with a
 
 72 HARGRAVE. 
 
 look of the tenderest interest, that Madame de 
 Hautrivage had been commissioned to break to 
 her the proposals of the young Englishman. 
 Pleasure will often shew itself under an aspect 
 that looks like grief; and Adele could not 
 have looked paler, as she rose to obey the in- 
 vitation of her aunt, had she been sure that 
 she was about to listen to the announcement of 
 the heaviest misfortune that could possibly fall 
 upon her. 
 
 Having reached the salo7i which Coventry 
 had just left, the lady who considered herself 
 as his fiancee sat herself down exactly where he 
 had sat, and made a signal to her niece that 
 she should place herself opposite. 
 
 ''Adele !" she said, with much solemnity of 
 manner, " I might, perhaps, as the eldest 
 child of my deceased sister, have selected you 
 as the person to whom I would first wish to 
 communicate the important news I have to 
 tell, even if the silly nonsense just uttered by 
 your childish sister did not render it absolutely 
 necessary. She spoke, my dear, of your having 
 an idea, — that is, of your having taken it into
 
 HARGRAVE. 73 
 
 your head ; or rather, I think, of her having 
 taken it into her head — that Mr. Coventry, 
 our English friend, Mr. Alfred Coventry, had 
 thoughts of making proposals for your hand in 
 marriage. I trust, my dear, that Sabina Har- 
 grave had no right whatever to say what she 
 did, and that you will be ready to assure me 
 that no such ridiculous idea has ever entered 
 your imagination." 
 
 Madame de Hautrivage here ceased to 
 speak with her tongue ; but her eyes, steadily 
 bent upon the face of her suffering niece, car- 
 ried on the examination with the most inquisi- 
 torial severity, and left poor Adele no resource 
 but to turn away her face, and fix her own 
 eyes upon the ground. Had the words of 
 Madame de Hautrivage suggested to Made- 
 moiselle de Cordillac the meaning they were 
 intended to convey, — had she understood from 
 them any reproach for having hoped in vain 
 for the offered hand of the young Englishman, 
 her manner would have been totally different ; 
 for she would not have called in vain upon the 
 pride and delicacy which were strong within 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 HARGRATE. 
 
 her, for power to rebut so offensive a suspicion. 
 But these tremendous words, " the important 
 news I have to tell," still rung in her ears, and 
 she understood from them nothing^ less than a 
 formal annunciation that some proposal had 
 been made for her, which the wisdom of her 
 aunt approved. True, Adele was independ- 
 ent ; she remembered this, and thanked 
 Heaven for it. But the consciousness that her 
 opposition to every proposal in the world but 
 one would, in truth, arise from her having com- 
 mitted the offence so grievous in the eyes of 
 France, — men, women, and children, — of daring 
 before marriage to prefer one human being to 
 all others, completely overwhelmed her, and 
 gave her the appearance of guilt, which she 
 was ashamed either to acknowledge or deny. 
 
 "What am I to think of this confusion, — 
 this terrified embarrassment, Mademoiselle do 
 Cordillac ?*' said her aunt, trembling with pas- 
 sion. *' Is it possible that you have so com- 
 pletely, so eternally disgraced yourself, as to 
 bestow your affections on a man who not only 
 is totally free from all partiality to you, but
 
 HARGRAVE. 75 
 
 actually affianced to another? Must I, indeed, 
 believe this possible in the child of my own 
 sister?" 
 
 ** Affianced to another!" repeated Adele, 
 unconscious that she spoke at all. 
 
 ''Yes, mademoiselle, to another! Do you 
 still doubt? Must I go yet farther to make 
 you withdraw this most indecent acknowledg- 
 ment of unrequited and unsought-for love? 
 Nay, then, you shall be satisfied, young lady. 
 You shall have no excuse for persevering in 
 this fearful degradation from any ill-timed 
 concealment of mine. Know then, Mademoi- 
 selle Adele, that I have this very day, and in 
 this very room, myself received a proposal of 
 marriage from Alfred Coventry !" 
 
 ** And for whom, aunt ? " said Adele, recover- 
 ing her usual manner. 
 
 '* For myself. Mademoiselle de Cordillac!" 
 was the reply. "You look surprised, Adele," 
 resumed Madame de Hautrivage ; *' and, I am 
 sorry to say, mortified. But you are old 
 enough to know, my dear, that it is not only 
 youth, and the earliest dawn of beauty, which
 
 76 HA RG RAVE. 
 
 produces the sincerest attachments, and still 
 less the most frequent offers of marriage. I 
 have never thought it necessary, my dear, 
 to explain to you, or to any one, the exact 
 state of my affairs ; hut the fact is, I am ex- 
 tremely rich. It is probable that you may 
 have guessed this from the style of my 
 dress and general appearance, but I am aware 
 that you could not in reality know much about 
 it. Perhaps, even, I have in some degree 
 wished to conceal the fact, from the dread of 
 being eternally persecuted with proposals, and 
 this may satisfactorily account for any thing 
 you may have ever heard to the contrary. 
 But the case is altogether different with Mr. 
 Coventry. He has, as he most certainly had a 
 right to do, carefully informed himself of the 
 facts in this case ; and I have lived too long in 
 the world to think the worse of him, made- 
 moiselle, for selecting a wife whose fortune 
 may enable him to do many laudable acts 
 which he might not be able to achieve without 
 it. I have, indeed, reason to believe that it is 
 his intention to obtain a seat in the British
 
 HARGRAVE. 77 
 
 Parliament, — a sign of very noble ambition, 
 which I shall greatly approve, although I am 
 aware of the heavy costs it brings with it. But, 
 be this as it may, mademoiselle, mon parti est 
 pris, — I have accepted the offered hand of Alfred 
 Coventry, and his lips have ventured to ratify 
 the contract, not only in words, but by a kiss 
 of affection equally solemn and tender. After 
 this," added Madame de Hautrivage, with an 
 air of impressive dignity, " I need hardly add 
 that I consider myself already as his wife ! " 
 
 The elderly beauty was perfectly right in 
 conceiving that Adele was surprised, but 
 wrong when she added that she was mortified. 
 It was not mortification that she felt. She 
 was shocked, and she was astonished, — pain- 
 fully astonished by the information thus com- 
 municated to her ; but a stronger feeling still 
 was thankfulness, that, notwithstanding the 
 feelings and the hopes which she knew had 
 found a place in her heart, nothing had ever 
 passed between herself and Mr. Coventry 
 which could have enlightened him on the 
 subject. She recalled, by one rapid glance
 
 78 HARGRAVE. 
 
 over the past, a hundred instances of looks 
 and expressions on his part that seemed to 
 indicate his devotion to her ; but not one — no, 
 not the shadow of one, wherein he could have 
 traced any feeling in return that she would 
 have wished to conceal. It is true that of 
 late she had been in daily expectation of 
 learning from Mr. Hargrave, or her aunt, that 
 he had declared in the usual form by which 
 such matters were managed in France, the 
 sentiments which she had fancied he wished 
 her to perceive. But most happily for her 
 present tranquillity, the manners of her coun- 
 try, and in which she had been most carefully 
 educated, so guarded and fenced her in from 
 all approaches not made in the usual way, 
 that in the midst of daily intercourse and de- 
 voted attention she had still retained the love 
 and manner of a young girl who had never 
 dreamed of love. It was, indeed, this reserve, 
 so constantly, and at all times and seasons 
 preserved by Adele, which had hitherto pre^ 
 vented Coventry from laying his heart at her 
 feet. Like other young men of large inde-
 
 HARGRAVE. 79 
 
 pendent fortune and unobjectionable station 
 and character, he had received his share of 
 coaxing from careful mothers and provident 
 fathers ; and though still under thirty, had al- 
 ready learned to tremble at the danger of being 
 married for his acres rather than for himself. 
 When first he looked at Mademoiselle de 
 Cordillac with the admiration which loveli- 
 ness excites when the peculiar style of it 
 particularly pleases the taste of the gazer, he 
 rejoiced at perceiving that her position was so 
 brilliant, her independence so generally recog- 
 nised, and the admiration she excited so 
 general, that should it so happen that his 
 liking grew into love, he might be pretty sure 
 of not winning her unless she loved him too. 
 
 It was this confidence, perhaps, which made 
 his long-sought-for heart surrender itself so 
 promptly to the beautiful French girl, despite 
 a few English prejudices which, under other 
 circumstances, might have led him to pause ; 
 but certain it is, that before he had been six 
 weeks in the habit of daily and nightly con- 
 versing with Mademoiselle de Cordillac, he
 
 80 HARGRAVE. 
 
 became most deeply attached to her. Yet still 
 he spoke not the important words which were 
 to place all his hopes of earthly happiness 
 in her hands ; for still he doubted whether 
 there could be any feeling capable of being 
 fostered into love in one so very free from 
 every recognised symptom of it. By degrees, 
 indeed, he saw, or fancied he saw, a sparkling 
 brightness in her eye when he approached 
 that made his heart bound as he watched it ; 
 and he had pretty well made up his mind to 
 wait for no surer indication of what was 
 passing within, when this fatal interview with 
 Madame de Hautrivage took place. 
 
 After listening with becoming gravity, and 
 as much composure as her speaking features 
 could assume, to Madame's history of the part- 
 ing salute, Adele rose, and said in a gentle 
 and very tolerably steady voice, " I am obliged 
 to you for this confidential communication, 
 aunt, and beg you to believe that I sincerely 
 wish you happy. For the emotion you wit- 
 nessed when you said that you had important 
 news to tell me, you will easily understand it
 
 HARGRAVE. 81 
 
 when I confess that I thought you meant to 
 announce some application, with which you were 
 favoured, for myself. I am too happy, aunt, as 
 I have before often told both papa and your- 
 self, to wish for any change .... and all I 
 ask for is to be permitted to remain as I am." 
 
 *' Well, my dear," continued Madame de 
 Hautrivage, very complacently, " if that is all, 
 I see no reason whatever for not indulging 
 
 you You are a very handsome girl, 
 
 Adele, and, better still, you have a very hand- 
 some fortune, which will always suffice to 
 secure you an eligible partie, whenever you 
 shall happen to change your mind." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac made no reply 
 to this agreeable prediction save a smile and 
 a bow, and then quitted the room, leaving 
 her aunt exceedingly well pleased at the inter- 
 view. 
 
 " Well, Adele," cried Sabina, as her sister 
 re-entered their boudoir ; " what is it all 
 about? Is it an offer of marriage from Mr. 
 Coventry that Madame has announced to 
 
 0" 
 
 you : 
 
 e2
 
 82 HARGRAVE. 
 
 *' Yes, Sabina, it is," replied Adele, with a 
 languid smile; "she has, indeed, announced 
 to me an offer of marriage from Mr. Coventry. 
 But it is not for the person you are foolish 
 enough to suppose, — it is not for me, Sabina." 
 
 *' For whom then ? Not for me, I am very 
 sure." 
 
 " No, my dear ; it is for neither of us. It 
 is to Madame de Hautrivage herself. Mr. 
 Coventry is going to be married to my aunt." 
 
 ** Adele ! what can induce you to amuse 
 yourself by talking such nonsense ? " 
 
 " If there be nonsense in the business, 
 Sabina, it is not mine. I have repeated to 
 you very exactly, the information I have just 
 received from Madame de Hautrivage. She 
 tells me that she is affianced to Mr. Coventry, 
 and that she already considers herself as his 
 wife." 
 
 " And it is without laughing that you say 
 this, Adele?" said her young sister, looking 
 at her grave face with the most unfeigned 
 astonishment. " I wish to Heaven you would 
 explain yourself! I cannot bear to be mystified
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 83 
 
 about any thing serious, and particularly about 
 any thing which concerns you." 
 
 *' Believe me, Sabina, there is no joke in 
 the matter ; and you should be glad, dearest, 
 that if I do not laugh, I do not weep either. 
 I am shocked to think that, partly by your 
 flattery, and partly by my own, I had very 
 nearly persuaded myself to believe that this 
 gentleman had treated me with particular 
 attention ; and, what is worse still, that I 
 was exceedingly well pleased that so it should 
 be. Had I in any other way been thus 
 suddenly obliged to give up all the thoughts 
 and . . . why should I deny it to you, my 
 Sabina? ... all the hopes which have sprung 
 from this wild idea, the pain — the disappoint- 
 ment would have been hard to bear. But 
 now, Sabina, what is there in it more terrible 
 than awaking from a dream ? There is no 
 such man as the Alfred Coventry by whom I 
 fancied myself beloved ; and though my 
 vision was a very pretty vision, and that all 
 it wanted to be perfect was that it should be
 
 84 HARGRAVE. 
 
 true, I am not weak enough to sit down and 
 break my heart that it is not so." 
 
 " God forbid you should, dearest Adele ! " 
 exclaimed Sabina, who, now that the truth was 
 forced upon her, looked, if possible, paler than 
 Adele herself, — " God forbid that you should 
 ever waste another thought upon one so utterly 
 contemptible ! And yet, merciful Heaven ! 
 how is it possible to believe it? Madame de 
 Hautrivage on one side, and Adele de Cor- 
 dillac on the other, and a man is found who 
 prefers the former to the latter ! Oh ! it is 
 monstrous, Adele. And though I no longer 
 suspect you of meaning to deceive me, I can- 
 not help believing still that our poor aunt de- 
 ceives herself; for, without any great degree 
 of self-love, you must surely be aware that 
 such a preference is absolutely unnatural." 
 
 *' Perhaps it would be so," replied Adele, 
 with another of her altered smiles, ** were it 
 not for the motive which Madame de Hautri- 
 vage herself, with a total absence of vanity or 
 self-delusion of any kind, explained to me.
 
 HARGRAVE. 85 
 
 The confession was certainly too naive to leave 
 any doubt of its veracity. She told me, Sabina, 
 what we neither of us ever knew before — and 
 no wonder, for I am sure we never bestowed 
 a thought upon the subject, — she told me that 
 she was very rich, and that Mr. Coventry had 
 many objects of laudable ambition before him, 
 which his union with her would enable him to 
 achieve. So, at least, we must allow that, 
 however much my own vanity has led me to 
 deceive myself, Mr. Coventry has evidently 
 not attempted to deceive her." 
 
 " A very noble degree of sincerity, indeed," 
 replied Sabina, " and well worthy of the 
 parties between whom it has been displayed ! 
 Now then, Adele, let us never mention this 
 hateful man's name again. He has put himself 
 up to sale, and, as I presume, the highest 
 bidder has got him. Were I you, I would 
 most cautiously avoid all intercourse with him. 
 If he really be paying his addresses to this 
 good lady — if he is really to become your 
 uncle, it may, and must be, I suppose, im- 
 possible to keep wholly out of his way ; but,
 
 86 HARGRAVE. 
 
 were I you, I never would permit him to con- 
 verse with me again." 
 
 " And so display to him the profound im- 
 pression which his light gallantry has made 
 upon my too sensitive heart ? No, Sabina, 
 if you were me, you would do no such thing. 
 Let me tell you honestly, my sister, how it 
 stands with me : — There are some painful 
 feelings that I could bear, and, as I hope, bear 
 well ; but there are others which I could not 
 bear at all — or, at any rate, very ill indeed. 
 I believe I could bear well the mortification 
 and disappointment consequent upon finding 
 that a gentleman whom I had first endowed 
 with all the virtues under heaven, and then 
 laid at my feet as my lover, was about as far 
 removed from deserving the first as the last of 
 these imputations. Yes, Sabina, I could bear 
 this, and feel, perhaps, in the course of time, 
 that it was a very useful lesson against pre- 
 sumption of all kinds. But what I could not 
 bear, is the thought that Alfred Coventry 
 should read the disappointment of my silly 
 heart in my countenance or in my manner to
 
 HARGRAVE. 87 
 
 him. God forgive me, Sabina, but I think 
 that, rather than bear this, I would die ! Then 
 save me from it, dearest — dearest love, as you 
 pity me ! " 
 
 Inexpressibly affected by the manner in 
 vrhich poor Adele uttered these words, so 
 totally unlike any thing she had ever heard 
 from her before, Sabina knelt on the footstool 
 before her, and, throwing her arms round her, 
 exclaimed, " Oh, Adele ! Tell me only what 
 you wish me to do or to say that may comfort 
 you, and it shall be the first object of my life 
 to obey you." 
 
 Adele returned her caresses, and a few tears 
 escaped from the bright eyes of both; but in 
 the next moment the smile with which the 
 elder sister reproved the weakness of the 
 younger shewed that it was not in the lar- 
 rnoyant strain that she intended to seek for 
 consolation. 
 
 "I will tell you," she said, "what it is I 
 wish you to do ; and all I wish you to say, 
 my own gentle, sweet Sabina, is, that you will 
 endeavour to support me in the line of conduct
 
 88 HARGRAVE. 
 
 which I intend to pursue. What you must do, 
 love, will not be very difficult ; for it is only to 
 treat Mr. Coventry, and our aunt too, exactly 
 in the same manner as you have ever done. 
 Can you do this for me, Sabina, even if it 
 should sometimes cost you a slight struggle 
 with your inclinations?" 
 
 *'A slight struggle!" Sabina repeated with 
 a sigh. " Mais cest tgal. I question whe- 
 ther I have the power of being a very skilful 
 actress under any circumstances, but I will do 
 my best to please you, Adele." 
 
 " Thank you, dearest ! I ask no more. 
 All the skill needed is merely to avoid all 
 occasions of testifying coldness or dislike. And 
 now, Sabina, we will talk as little about this 
 unpleasant blunder of mine as may be, and 
 do not fancy that I am going to pine in 
 thought. I do assure you, sister mine, there 
 are many points on which I ought to be most 
 especially grateful, and I trust I am so. First, 
 for instance, I know that I have never betrayed 
 myself; and secondly, I know also that this 
 timely drawing aside the glittering veil with
 
 HARGRAVE. 89 
 
 which my false prophet was invested will very 
 effectually prevent the peace of my future life 
 from being injured." 
 
 Sabina Hargrave had the very highest pos- 
 sible opinion of her sister's judgment and high 
 principle, as well as an attachment for her, 
 as firm and devoted as it was possible for one 
 human being to feel for another ; it was, there- 
 fore, with the most docile obedience that she 
 complied with these injunctions : but it was 
 not without difficulty, for her feelings towards 
 Mr. Coventry had more of bitter dislike in 
 them than any injury offered to herself could 
 possibly have produced; and as for Madame 
 de Hautrivage, there was a mixture of scorn, 
 pity, and disgust, in the sentiment she excited, 
 which made it a pretty severe penalty to con- 
 verse with her, and no slight one to treat her 
 with the respect which her near relationship 
 demanded. \
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Alfred Coventry, meanwhile, passed out 
 from his interview with Madame de Hautri- 
 vage in the happiest state of mind imaginable. 
 He had been quite aware of the sort of expec- 
 tation to which it was probable his attentions 
 to Adcle had given rise, and was inexpressibly 
 relieved by the subject having been satisfac- 
 torily discussed without his having been driven 
 to send in, en regie, a statement of his wishes 
 and pretensions, of his hopes and his rent-roll. 
 
 ** It will not, then, be from the elegant 
 nonchalant father-in-law, or from the made-up 
 manitree aunt, that I shall learn whether Adele 
 de Cordillac is to be mine or not!" thought 
 he. " It will be from the matchless eves of
 
 HARGRAVE. 91 
 
 the bright angel herself that I shall learn my 
 destiny, and may God give me strength to 
 bear it like a man ; for either way the sentence 
 will be enough to overpower one. Should it 
 be, * iVb, sir, no! I can never he yours!' which 
 way shall I turn ? Whither shall I go ? How 
 shall I be able to look at her and live, if she 
 tells me this ? And — merciful Heaven ! — 
 should she say to me — or should she look as 
 if she meant to say to me — * Alfred, I am 
 thine!' what will become of me then?" 
 
 But wayward as these fancies seemed to be, 
 hope so joyously predominated, that though 
 he really endeavoured to examine his chance as 
 doubtingly and modestly as possible, his step 
 was light, and his gay eye as bright as the 
 sunshine it encountered, as he walked across 
 the splendid bridge which leads from the 
 Chamber of Deputies to la Place de la 
 Concorde. 
 
 Too much occupied by his own busy 
 thoughts to know particularly well which way 
 he was going, Coventry was passing the gates 
 leading to the Tuileries Gardens, when he was
 
 92 HARGRAVE. 
 
 accosted by a young Russian nobleman of con- 
 siderable talent and great acquirement, with 
 whom he had formed an acquaintance of more 
 intimacy, perhaps, than with any other for- 
 eigner whom he had encountered during his 
 residence abroad. 
 
 ^' Man cher ! You look as if you were 
 setting out on a ramble from earth to heaven !" 
 said Count Romanhoff, suddenly stopping him 
 by laying his hand on each of his shoulders ; 
 *' and yet you turn your back on the Elysian 
 Fields, whicli shews you to be greatly ignorant 
 of the way. But truly, for the present, I 
 would rather you should miss than find it, for 
 the sight of your countenance is refreshing. 
 You are the only man I have seen to-day who 
 does not look as if he must step with caution, 
 lest he should stumble as he walked and gret 
 his brains knocked out in some unaccountable 
 manner or other before he knew who was near 
 him." 
 
 '^What mean you, Romanhoflf?" returned 
 Coventry, laughing. " Why should I expect 
 to have my brains knocked out?"
 
 HARGRAVE. 93 
 
 " Only because it is so very much la mode ! 
 But, upon my honour, I begin to doubt if you 
 even know of the adventure which has made 
 all the men of fashion in Paris turn pale?" 
 
 ** Nay, you may do more than doubt, — you 
 may be very sure of it. I know no more what 
 you are talking about than if I were returning 
 from the journey you were pleased to mention, 
 and this moment descended from the moon." 
 
 ** Then you have not heard that last night, 
 for the third time within the last month, a 
 gentleman leaving Riccordo's salon dejeu, with 
 a considerable sum of money won there, was 
 robbed, and left bound hand and foot in a 
 corner so remote as to have been discovered 
 only this morning?" 
 
 " No, truly, have I not. Three times within 
 a month ! And coming from the same place, 
 too! This does not speak much in favour of 
 the Parisian police, methinks." 
 
 "Oh! for that, it is quite an exceptional 
 case ; and it would be hardly fair to blame the 
 police for not interfering to prevent what it
 
 94 IIARGRAVE. 
 
 would have been so perfectly impossible to 
 foresee," replied the Russian. 
 
 " I don't suppose that any robberies are 
 absolutely foreseen, Romanhoff; for in that 
 case, of course, none would be perpetrated : 
 but certainly it does seem rather strange that 
 so very bold and atrocious an act as that you 
 describe should be repeated three times under 
 circumstances so similar." 
 
 "So it does ; but it will be repeated no 
 more with impunity, for all Paris is in com- 
 motion about it now. Hitherto, it should 
 seem as if the strange audacity of the deed 
 rendered it so improbable it could be repeated, 
 that both the first and the second crime were 
 suffered to pass by, with no more preparation 
 for preventing their recurrence than if an 
 earthquake, unprecedented in the latitude, had 
 swept away the street where it occurred." 
 
 " What is this deed, Romanhoff, that 
 
 ' Roars so loud and thunders in tbe index V " 
 
 demanded Coventry, who of late had thought
 
 HARGRAVE. 95 
 
 SO little, and cared so little, for any subject 
 save one, that if the direful adventure alluded 
 to by his friend had been related in his hear- 
 ing, it had not made sufficient impression to 
 rest upon his memory. 
 
 ** What is it ? Have you been out of Paris, 
 Coventry?" returned the truly astonished 
 Count. 
 
 " No ; not positively out of Paris," said 
 Coventry, laughing. " Mais fais comme si 
 je 71 y etais pas^ mon cher, and I shall under- 
 stand you better a great deal than I do at 
 present." 
 
 " Eh hien, mon hermite de la Chausse 
 d'Antin, thus it vras :— Three weeks ago last 
 Monday — and this you know, or I presume 
 you know, is Wednesday — three weeks ago 
 last Monday, M. Jules Roland, the eldest son 
 of the rich Roland, had won a very consider- 
 able sum at Riccordo's. How much it was I 
 cannot exactly tell you, but I know that a 
 portion of it consisted of a thousand napoleons 
 and five hundred sovereigns, won from an 
 Englishman, because the set who had been
 
 96 HARGRAVE. 
 
 watching the play jested about the weight of 
 it, and told Roland that he must look about 
 for a trusty ticket-porter to carry it. To which 
 he gaily replied, * Merci, mes amis,* quoting 
 with his exquisite accent — 
 
 ' De labor ve delaught in, phisiques pin.' 
 
 Upon which old De Nolonville ejaculated an 
 oath or two against English, but added in a 
 friendly tone, ' At any rate, young man, keep 
 to the open Boulevard.' 
 
 "'Not a bit of it, M. le Comte,' replied 
 Roland ; * I shall do no such thing, but cut 
 across as usual by — by — . Diable ! I forget the 
 name, but it was some obscure, little, dark 
 street which lay in his way home. Eh, bien ! 
 we all saw him leave the room about two 
 hours past midnight, and several followed soon 
 after ; but, as he himself positively states, 
 nobody left the room with him. He says, too, 
 that he did exactly as he said he should do; 
 that is, he turned off tlie Boulevard into a 
 dark narrow street, and before he had traversed 
 half its length, he was seized from behind in
 
 HARGRAVE. 97 
 
 the arms of a tall powerful man, who contrived 
 so effectually to twist his (Roland's) cloak 
 round his arms and over his mouth, that he 
 was rendered as completely defenceless as if 
 a strait waistcoat had been fastened on 
 him, and as incapable of uttering a cry as 
 if he had been gagged. This done, the villain 
 rifled him of his gold and his notes, and then 
 of his silk pocket-handkerchief; with which 
 last article, however, he did not make off, 
 but employed it in tying the legs of the un- 
 fortunate Jules so tightly together, that he 
 was rendered as incapable of flying as of fight- 
 ing — and thus he was found by the first passer- 
 by on the following morning." 
 
 '' Did he see the face of the fellow who 
 treated him thus?" demanded Coventry. 
 
 " No, not for an instant. The whole of the 
 operations were most skilfully performed from 
 behind him ; which led the police to suspect, 
 when they were applied to the next morning, 
 that the scoundrel was some one who knew 
 he should be recognised if seen. Besides, 
 Jules bears testimony to the very gentleman- 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 98 HARGRAVE. 
 
 like gentleness with which he was gagged and 
 bound ; not an atom more violence having 
 been used, he says, than was absolutely 
 necessary to effect the object in view : from 
 which it is shrewdly inferred that the thief 
 must have been one of the society present 
 when the money was won, and the winner's 
 purpose as to his route declared." 
 
 " How dreadful," exclaimed Coventry, *' is 
 this idea of consoiting with pickpockets and 
 cut-throats ! Will not this, Romanhoff, suffice 
 to keep you in future from haunts where you 
 are so little likely to meet companions deserv- 
 ing the honour of your fellowship ?" 
 
 " I suspect that you rate that honour too 
 highly, my good friend," replied the young 
 Russian. " There is fellowship to be met in 
 the salons of Riccordo, which my superiors in 
 every way might be well pleased to fall in 
 with." 
 
 *' In every way !" returned the Englishman. 
 '' I doubt it, Romanhoff. But, at any rate, 
 the set who really know each other there 
 ought to ascertain with all despatch who it is
 
 HARGRAVE. 99 
 
 among them who can by possibility be sub- 
 jected to so horrible a suspicion." 
 
 " And that is exactly the business upon which 
 every man of fashion in Paris, except yourself, 
 Coventry, is at this moment occupied. Of 
 course the police is giving us all assistance ; 
 but they declare now, that, as nearly as 
 possible, the very same thing has been re- 
 peated once and again, precisely as they did 
 at first — that the case is so entirely out of the 
 common way, and so removed from all possi- 
 bility that their well- organised acquaintance 
 with rogues and vagabonds should assist the 
 discovery of the culprit, that but little is hoped 
 from their interference. It unquestionably is 
 a devilish disagreeable predicament in which 
 we all stand, for there is not one among us, 
 you perceive, who may not be the culprit ; and 
 it is certainly paying a very marked personal 
 compliment if any one of the society looks at 
 another with full and perfect assurance that he 
 is not the man." 
 
 *' And do you mean to return again to this
 
 100 HARGRAVE. 
 
 very mixed society, Romanhoff?" said Alfred, 
 with a good deal of friendly anxiety. 
 
 " Why, do you not see, my dear fellow, that 
 in the present state of affairs it would be as 
 much as a man's reputation was worth to be 
 absent from Riccordo's salon ? Any habitue 
 who should venture to withdraw himself at 
 this crisis would be very suspiciously 7wte, you 
 may depend upon it." 
 
 " Then I can only rejoice the more that I 
 am not one of them," returned Mr. Coventry, 
 gravely ; " and most sincerely wish, my dear 
 friend, that you were in the same category." 
 
 '' Nonsense, Alfred ; you positively look at 
 me with as pitiful a visage as if you thought 
 that, whether going to the salon or staying 
 away from it, I was equally liable to suspicion. 
 Why, think for a moment of the noble 
 names to be found in the set you are thus 
 condemning wholesale ? I am not the only 
 intimate you have among them : there are 
 D'Obigny, Castello, Reindenberg, De Bruton, 
 Hargrave, Fitzjames, D' Arusez, and a dozen
 
 HARGRAVE. lOl 
 
 others at least, — all your right good and very 
 intimate friends : are they all to be as pro- 
 foundly pitied as I am ?" 
 
 " No, Romanhoff, very few of them ; for 
 very few of them are so greatly capable of 
 doing better. However, God made us all, as 
 Beatrice, or some of her kindred, says. I 
 will detain you no longer from your quest, and 
 honestly wish you all success in it." 
 
 While this conversation lasted, the two young 
 men had walked across the gardens to the 
 Rue Costiglione, where they paused ; Alfred 
 intending to mount his horse for as quiet and 
 meditative a ride as the Bois de Boulogne 
 could afford, and Romanhoff having a gossip- 
 ing visit to make in the Place Vendome. 
 
 '^ Eh Men, done" said the latter, after their 
 different projects had been explained, " sans 
 adieu, we shall meet to-morrow night, if not 
 before, cJiez voire digne compatriote M, Har- 
 grave. Dieu ! comme il est magnijique, cet 
 Jiomme ! en tout ce quil fait, c'est veritable- 
 ment un prince. Eh que les demoiselles sont 
 adorable ! — It is only the aunt," he added, with
 
 102 HARGRAVE. 
 
 something approaching to a shudder, '*that 
 makes the advantage of the entrie there 
 doubtful. But that woman is a horror, — she 
 positively expects one to make love to her." 
 
 " Does she?" said Coventry, laughing. " I 
 hope, at any rate, that one does not mean all .'" 
 
 " Oh ! but it does though . . . nobody can 
 escape her. Cependant, I shall venture to- 
 morrow, notwithstanding. Aurevoir!" 
 
 And so they parted ; Coventry thinking of 
 the morrow's ball, of which his friend spoke 
 so lightly, with a degree of emotion which 
 almost turned hope into fear, and pleasure into 
 pain : for he had fully made up his mind to 
 seize an opportunity at this ball, amidst the 
 often-found seclusion of a crowd, to open his 
 whole heart to Adele, and learn from her the 
 destiny of his future life, while others were 
 diligently occupied in selecting their partners 
 for a dance.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How little we are apt to think as we enter 
 some crowded rendezvous of fashion, and 
 throw a light glance over the light throng 
 entering with us,— how little at such a moment 
 are we apt to think of the various cares, 
 sorrows, fears, and anxieties, that may he 
 entering along with them ; they all look so 
 smilingly, or so proudly, or so richly, or so 
 heautifully, that it never enters one's head to 
 remember that every bosom there, be it as fair 
 as it may or as bold as it will, let it palpitate 
 behind a transparent inch of lace, or swell 
 beneath the weight of a dozen decorations, 
 has each its own little museum of cares, 
 which, if laid bare before us, would make the 
 outward coating seem wondrously flimsy.
 
 104 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Not one of all the lovely girls who moved 
 about those splendid rooms of Mr. Hargrave's, 
 like so many full-dressed peris in Paradise, 
 looked more gay, more beautiful, more ani- 
 mated, or more happy, than did Adele de 
 Cordillac ; and yet she would gladly, thank- 
 fully, have resigned the chance of ever being 
 2)resent at another ftte^ could she thereby, un- 
 known and unseen, have escaped from this. 
 But she had screwed her courage to the de- 
 sperate pitch of going through all the dreaded 
 hilarity of that terrible evening, without giving 
 Alfred Coventry the satisfaction of perceiving 
 that she had the slightest objection to receiving 
 him in the character of an uncle. She was 
 shocked herself, poor girl ! at the agony which 
 this struggle cost her ; but she believed that, 
 could she find strength to get over this first 
 trial, all that followed after would be com- 
 j)aratively easy : and it was this idea which 
 urged her to the feverish energy of exertion 
 w^hich gave such a lustre to her eye, and such 
 a glow to her cheek, as Alfred Coventry thought 
 had never before been equalled on earth.
 
 HARGRAVE. 105 
 
 Nor was poor Adele*s the only heart which 
 throbbed painfully amidst the elegant festivity 
 of that splendid evening. Alfred Coventry's, 
 too, beat painfully, — but this was as much, 
 perhaps, from hope as from fear ; and Sabina 
 Hargrave*s heart beat painfully, — for it swelled 
 with scorn and indignation towards some ; 
 dislike, that approached antipathy, towards 
 others ; and towards her sister a degree of pity 
 that positively wrung her to the quick, and 
 made it a task of no easy achievement to keep 
 tears from starting every time she looked at 
 her. 
 
 Nor was the condition of Madame de 
 Hautrivage entirely couleur de rose; though 
 she considered herself as decidedly the heroine 
 of the hour, and fully believed that, were her 
 interesting situation known, she should be 
 envied by every woman present. But she 
 could not altogether shut her eyes upon the 
 radiant beauty of Adele, or the youthful love- 
 liness of Sabina ; and she certainly did think 
 it unlucky that they should both of them have 
 been dressed so very peculiarly well on that 
 night. 
 
 f2
 
 106 HARGRAVE. 
 
 It is probable, therefore, that if among our 
 very restricted acquaintance with the party 
 which filled Mr. Hargrave's magnificent 
 rooms we are able to name four who were 
 ill at ease, it may be safely inferred that the 
 observation was a just one which pointed out 
 the fallacy of festive decoration as a symbol 
 of enjoyment. When it is added that the 
 identical individual who had committed the 
 three audacious robberies related by Count 
 Romanhofi" was actually one of the party, 
 and by no means the least gay and graceful 
 person present, it will be allowed that, in the 
 present instance at least, some strong degree 
 of anxiety must have mixed itself with the 
 festivity of the meeting, and of more kinds 
 than one. 
 
 Nevertheless, to all outward appearance, 
 every thing went well. Blast as the majority 
 of the company probably were to all sorts 
 of splendour, the tasteful extravagance of Mr. 
 Hargrave contrived to elicit admiration, and 
 almost astonishment, from even the most 
 veteran gazers upon Parisian elegance ; and, 
 excepting such young ladies as were too
 
 HARGRAVE. 107 
 
 deeply engaged in flirtation to see any thing, 
 there was scarcely a single individual in the 
 company who was not quite aware that the 
 whole scene was one of the most splendid they 
 had ever looked upon. 
 
 A part of the extensive garden, with its 
 magnificent conservatory, was on this occasion 
 added, at an immense expense, to the suite 
 of rooms on the ground-floor. A wide space 
 between two rows of acacia trees was roofed 
 in, forming a gallery supported by a suc- 
 cession of illuminated arches, and terminating 
 in the green-house, now converted into a re- 
 treat for lounging and conversation ; while 
 its exotic tenants were scattered in blooming 
 groups along the gallery, enriching the air 
 with their fragrance, and receiving on their 
 dark leaves and brilliant blossoms the soft 
 light of a thousand waxen tapers, mysteriously 
 enhancing their beauty, as it does that of all 
 the other pretty things it falls upon. 
 
 The more than common splendour of this 
 sumptuous entertainment had a more specific 
 object than Mr. Hargrave could, in general,
 
 108 HARORAVE. 
 
 have pleaded in excuse for his boundless 
 extravagance. The youthful brother of a sove- 
 reign prince had, during the whole winter, 
 which was now drawing to its close, permitted 
 himself to be the load-star of every salon upon 
 which the stamp of fashion was suflBciently 
 impressed to authorise his being invited to 
 enter it. Gallant, gay, animated, and hand- 
 some, he was, of course, not only a first-rate 
 personage, but a first-rate favourite wherever 
 he appeared ; and happy was the fair one 
 whose hand he selected for the dance. On 
 none had this selection fallen so often as on 
 Sabina Hargrave, and to none had his manner 
 been so respectfully attentive. The mere 
 honour of this distinction would probably 
 have been more keenly felt by any individual 
 of the fair society than it was by herself; 
 but this proceeded not from any sublime con- 
 tempt for the prestige communicated by rank 
 to all other agremens, but to the fact that 
 when the prince, at his own request, was first 
 presented to her, his appearance, despite the 
 insignia that glittered on his breast, so
 
 HARGRAVE. 109 
 
 forcibly recalled that of the very simply clad 
 youth she had seen on the rock, whence she 
 gazed on the Mummelsee, and the spectre- 
 like castle beside it, that it was surprise and 
 pleasure, rather than gratified vanity, which 
 his notice excited in her. 
 
 However, as he never, in any of the con- 
 versations that followed, alluded to the ad- 
 venture which had befallen her there, and 
 bad shaken his head, as a negative, when she 
 had once asked him if he had ever visited 
 Baden-Baden, she was compelled to believe 
 that this resemblance was merely accidental. 
 Nevertheless his rank neyer .produced any 
 flattering or agreeable effect; on the contrary, 
 it only made her conscious of a very painful 
 distance between them. But with her father 
 the case was widely different. His ambition 
 was as unbounded as his vanity ; and both 
 together led him to think that, however in- 
 congruous such a connexion might be con- 
 sidered in any other family, the pre-eminent 
 distinction to which he had attained in the 
 world of fashion, together with the unrivalled
 
 110 HARGRAVE. 
 
 beauty of his young daughter, would render it 
 a very natural occurrence in his. 
 
 This notion once conceived, strengthened 
 with every hour that passed over him, and 
 speedily became the object to which every 
 thought and every act was directed. Mr. 
 Hargrave must be very thoroughly known, and 
 every circumstance of his situation very tho- 
 roughly understood, before any adequate idea 
 can be formed of the manner in which such a 
 hope was likely to work within him. That 
 he loved Sabina tenderly and devotedly is 
 most certain ; but not all the joy which the in- 
 vesting one so fondly cherished with all which, 
 in his estimation, made life worth having, 
 would have sufficed to excite the feelings which 
 now possessed him. True, such a marriage 
 was every thing he could have wished on earth 
 for her; it was every thing he could have 
 wished on earth for himself: but this was not 
 all ; and what remained behind was, even in 
 his estimation, and despite the besotted vanity 
 which still raged within him, of more vital im- 
 portance, ten thousand-fold, than any marriage
 
 HARGRAVE. Ill 
 
 which she could make, or any connexion, 
 were it thrice royal, that he could obtain. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave, in fact, at this time stood 
 upon the brink of a precipice, one steady 
 glance down which would probably have 
 sufficed to make him a maniac for life. This 
 steady glance, however, he had never yet given ; 
 nor was there the least chance of his doing so, 
 as long as these buoyant hopes and meteor- 
 like expectations, begot between self-love and 
 imagination, continued to float before him. 
 But Mr. Hargrave was deeply and des- 
 perately in debt. The large fortune he had 
 brought with him from England had gradu- 
 ally been dissolving away from the year of his 
 marriage with Madame de Cordillac ; for her 
 comfortable little income of twenty thousand 
 francs was but a drop in the ocean of extra- 
 vagance, into which the glory of outdoing the 
 noblest and the wealthiest of her high-born 
 connexions immediately plunged him. From 
 that period, the income of his handsome for- 
 tune never sufficed to supply his annual ex- 
 penditure ; and the process of supplying the
 
 112 HARQRAVE. 
 
 deficiency, by drawing upon his capital, though 
 at first apparently a slow one, might have 
 awakened any man to its inevitable conse- 
 quence who had not lapped himself in the 
 elysium of a variety of visions, all as extra- 
 vagantly wild as that on which he now seemed 
 determined to risk his last stake. 
 
 Prince Frederic of *******, the hero of the 
 romance thus wildly woven in the brain of 
 Hargrave, decidedly thought Sabina Hargrave 
 the prettiest girl he had met in the salons 
 of Paris ; and never doubting that his station 
 must render the expression of his admiration 
 an honour, unaccompanied by any danger to 
 the young lady's tranquillity, he expressed it 
 on all occasions without the slightest reserve, 
 and to no one with so much flattering en- 
 thusiasm as to Mr. Hargrave. It was some 
 complimentary boast of this kind which had 
 put the notion of this splendid fete into the 
 head of the speculating father. He knew 
 how delicate, how beautiful, how sweetly tran- 
 quil, his Sabina looked, while moving about 
 the splendid halls of his pride, and occasionally
 
 HARGRAVE. 113 
 
 brought forward to notice, by the duties which 
 hospitality demanded of her. 
 
 ** He shall see her in all her glory," thought 
 the intoxicated Hargrave : " he shall see her 
 as no Paris beauty of seventeen was ever seen 
 before — he shall see her as a king's son might 
 glory to see his wife ! And should it come to 
 pass, as my prophetic spirit tells me that it will 
 — should I see my Sabina borne to the feet of 
 her brother-in-law's throne, what will it matter 
 to me as I follow her thither, and with all the 
 affection of a devoted father consent thence- 
 forward to reside beneath her princely roof, 
 what will it then matter to me how many 
 scurvy creditors ungratefully murmur, because 
 a few, among countless thousands, remain un- 
 paid ? A fete must be given that shall make 
 all Paris stare — it must be done — all things 
 must be done rather than fail ; and if means 
 are wanting, means must be found. What is 
 the difference between a man of genius and a 
 dolt, but this — that the one controls circum- 
 stances, and that the other yields to them?" 
 
 This sapient meditation, with the flourish at
 
 114 HARGRAVE. 
 
 its conclusion, was quite sufficient to put Mr. 
 Hargrave in action ; and he set about the 
 needful preliminaries with a feeling of con- 
 scious superiority, which made him look almost 
 with an emotion of pity upon every one he 
 met. In short, all the complicated machinery 
 necessary for so great an occasion was set in 
 motion. The gardens were filled with work- 
 men, the invitations sent out, the most de- 
 sperate efforts made by those who were not of 
 the elect to obtain admission, and means found 
 to supply such an amount of ready money as 
 was absolutely necessary for the undertaking. 
 
 Assuredly no preparations ever succeeded 
 better. The royal lips of Prince Frederic ex- 
 pressed again and again his delighted admira- 
 tion of the brilliant scene ; and, better still, 
 no sooner was the waltz over, by which he 
 opened the ball with Sabina, than he asked her 
 to gallop ; and no sooner had the gallop ended, 
 than he asked her to walk through a quadrille. 
 In short, if every body but Mr. Hargrave 
 had not perceived that the royal guest was 
 anxious to prove, by his attention to the daugh-
 
 HARGRAVE. 115 
 
 ter of his host, his sense of the compliment 
 paid him by this splendid entertainment, others 
 might have thought as he did, that the royal 
 youth was very decidedly in love. 
 
 And in truth, had not the prince been as 
 loyal as royal, he might have been tempted 
 that night to have expressed the admiration he 
 really felt with more tenderness than would 
 have been strictly honourable ; for never had 
 the unconscious Sabina looked so beautiful, or 
 acquitted herself so gracefully. Her dearly 
 loved father had told her that this fete, given 
 avowedly in compliment to the prince, must 
 greatly depend for its success upon her ; and 
 this gave her a motive for exertion which not 
 all the princes of the earth could have excited 
 without it. Perhaps even, so well did she 
 obey her father's bidding, there might have 
 been moments, ere the morning came to chase 
 the enchanting revellers of the night, during 
 which Prince Frederic might have wished that 
 the maiden had been as royal as himself, or he 
 of no higher lineage than her own. But if so 
 it were, Sabina did not find it out, though it
 
 116 HARGRAVE. 
 
 may be that her father did ; for as the night 
 advanced, his spirits became more and more 
 exhilarated ; and his handsome person, as he 
 graciously paraded it among his guests, seemed 
 to dilate, till he towered above them all. 
 
 Meanwhile the fevered Adele, who had 
 nothing to do in this royal game, proceeded 
 with her own desio;n with undeviatins: courajre 
 and perseverance, and alas ! with most perfect 
 and most lamentable success. 
 
 If every timid swain, when he finds himself 
 blessed by an occasional a porte conversation 
 in a ball-room, knew how exceedingly easy it 
 was for the fair lady to avoid it, if such were 
 her will, he might consider himself as more 
 blessed still. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac, of course, met 
 Mr. Coventry's eager greeting with a charming 
 smile ; and when, surrounded by a dozen gay 
 friends, he addressed himself to her alone, she 
 answered him with the most courteous atten- 
 tion : nay, when he asked her to waltz, she 
 waltzed, and, with a heart sinking with dis- 
 appointment and sorrow, whirled lightly away
 
 HARGRAVE. 117 
 
 before a circle of admiring spectators, with an 
 aspect as bright as her spirit was heavy. But 
 when this was over, and with anxious watch- 
 fulness he sought for an opportunity of whis- 
 pering one sentence in her ear, a sun-beam as 
 it darts from an April cloud is not less amen- 
 able to the persuasive " stay !" than was Adele. 
 
 *' She did not hear, or did not understand 
 me," thought Alfred ; and another hour wore 
 away in ceaseless efforts on his part to arrest an 
 attention which could not be caught, and to give 
 an ear that was deafer than that of any adder 
 in the universe. Yet still he would not admit 
 the belief that she avoided him. "Avoid me!" 
 he murmured, as he watched her light figure 
 glide away at the very moment that he fancied 
 every obstacle removed. '* Adele avoid me! 
 Why should this be ? How can I believe it 1 
 Has she not danced with me, — smiled 
 upon me ? Why should I thus torment my- 
 self?" Yet still the night kept wearing on, 
 and still he was no nearer to his object. 
 
 Adele, meanwhile, paid little or no attention 
 to what might or might not have passed be-
 
 118 HARGRAVE. 
 
 tween Mr. Coventry and her aunt. Not an 
 atom of the littleness which in a mind of less 
 elevation would have mixed itself with her 
 misery, found place in hers. Her soul was 
 wrung with shame and sorrow, because she 
 was conscious that she had loved ere she had 
 been wooed ; and she threw no thought away 
 upon the probable absurdities of the courtship 
 which, upon such excellent authority, she 
 knew was going on. She watched not to see 
 how ridiculous Madame de Hautrivage might 
 be making herself, or how well, or how ill, her 
 contemptible ///^?/r played the part of her lover. 
 Had her mind been sufficiently commonplace 
 to permit her looking out for all this, it is 
 possible that she might have seen enough to 
 shake her faith, even in the solemn assevera- 
 tion of her mother's sister ; — and Alfred 
 Coventry might not have left the house, among 
 the very last of the lingering guests, bearing 
 in his heart the conviction that Adele de Cor- 
 dillac was the most accomplished coquet in 
 France, and himself the most unhappy English- 
 man who had ever suffered his peace to be
 
 HARGJRAVE. 119 
 
 wrecked in pursuit of an object so every way 
 unworthy. 
 
 Poor Madame de Hautrivage, indeed, did not 
 long enjoy the sweet delusion into which she 
 had fallen. No acknowledged beauty of twenty, 
 however, can ever have dressed for conquest 
 with less apprehension of failure, and more 
 assured certainty of success, than she did upon 
 this eventful evening. During the two hours 
 thus occupied, and the delicious twenty minutes 
 afterwards given to the contemplation of the 
 finished work, and in which the pride of the 
 artist joined itself with the pride of the 
 woman, — during this interval the faded, yet 
 glowing Clementine de Hautrivage, was in a 
 truly enviable state of mind. But here ended 
 her portion of the evening's enjoyment. It 
 was not her wish to make her entree while the 
 rooms were empty ; she knew that the assumed 
 grace with which a fine woman, avec une toilette 
 irreprockable, wins her way on entering a suite 
 of rooms about half full, especially when she is 
 at home and has to dispense her smiling wel- 
 comes as she moves along, produces an effect
 
 120 HARGRAVE. 
 
 which triumphant generals might envy, and 
 nymphs of sixteen wish for in vain. Mr. 
 Coventry, therefore, was already in the room 
 when she swam into it ; and desirous, in the 
 first instance, rather of attracting notice than 
 of bestowing it, she contented her fond heart 
 by placing herself where she was quite sure of 
 being seen by him ; and there awaited the 
 eager and delighted salutation of the man she 
 favoured. But, alas! it came not. That he 
 saw her, unfortunately admitted not of the 
 slightest doubt; for during the space of three 
 seconds his eyes were directed towards her, 
 and he performed one of those slight, but civil 
 bows, which, in general, can be neither flatter- 
 ing nor offensive ; because, for the most part, 
 they are just what the occasion requires, and 
 no more. But in the case of the unfortunate 
 Madame de Hautrivage, a pistol aimed and 
 discharged at her head would have been infi- 
 nitely less affronting. 
 
 " For one moment, and no more," 
 
 the delightful possibility that some new and un- 
 expected effect in her brilliant costume might
 
 HARGRAVE. 121 
 
 have deceived him, and that he recognised not 
 the splendid figure before him as his affianced 
 Clementina, — for one short moment this hope 
 sustained her, but in the next it was gone 
 for ever : for she perceived, beyond the possi- 
 bility of mistake, that he spake something to 
 Adele, with whom he was conversing, which 
 caused her to turn her eyes towards her ; and 
 the half- melancholy smile with which she 
 nodded to her aunt, and then glided away 
 among the crowd, shewed plainly enough that 
 on perceiving her she had with perfect pro- 
 priety avoided the gaucherie of detaining her 
 lover from her side, although it probably cost 
 her a pang to resign him. 
 
 But what did the lover do? Did he profit 
 by his release to fly to her? Alas ! no. With 
 the most perfect indifference as to being re- 
 marked or not, Coventry looked after Adele, 
 and then followed her in a way which, to an 
 eye so experienced as that of Madame de 
 Hautrivage, left not a shadow of doubt as to 
 her being at that moment the object which 
 wholly occupied him. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 HARGRAVE. 
 
 " Ji? m'y connais r thought the unhappy 
 lady. And the thought expressed no vain 
 boast of her skill. She really did understand 
 all such matters perfectly ; and the acuteness 
 of the Frenchwoman overpowered the vanity of 
 the venerable coquette. " I see it," she in- 
 wardly exclaimed, — "I see it all. Bete! — 
 JBete Anglaise! — Dieu merci ! no Frenchman 
 could be thus equivocal !" Yet, notwithstand- 
 ing this movement of gratitude for native 
 blessings, her feelings were far from agreeable ; 
 nor were they rendered at all more so by this 
 same keenness of awakened observation during 
 the remainder of the evening. The unfor- 
 tunate bevue concerning the portrait had so 
 completely mystified her, and her long-esta- 
 blished habits of love-making so assisted the 
 mistake, that she really and truly believed the 
 young Englishman had fallen in love with her, 
 and the more easily laid herself under *' the 
 soft impeachment," from not being able to 
 assign any other cause for his not proposing for 
 her niece, when she had so obligingly opened 
 the way for him to do so. But now that
 
 HARGRAVE. 123 
 
 English hetise suggested itself as an interpret- 
 ation of all these lamentable mistakes, she 
 perceived her blunder with very disagreeable 
 distinctness. 
 
 As far as the young man himself was con- 
 cerned, the accident did not give her the 
 slightest uneasiness. She detested English- 
 men, and from her very soul scorned their 
 ignorance of all the graces of Ugerete, and of 
 all that is beautiful, moral, and sublime, in 
 that species of amour volage which her coun- 
 trymen (and women) alone understand ; where 
 change has no mixture of inconstancy, and 
 where infidelity is a sin and a sorrow un- 
 known. Yes! Madame de Hautrivage de- 
 tested Englishmen, and would have felt a 
 marriage with the wealthy Coventry a tremen- 
 dous sacrifice to the tyranny of circumstances ; 
 therefore the loss of him might have been 
 easily endured. But she perceived, in the 
 course of this long night's observations, that 
 she had — quite unintentionally, good lady ! — 
 thrown the prospect of poor Adele's excellent 
 match into utter confusion. She saw that the
 
 124 HARGRAVE. 
 
 gentleman was more devoted than ever, but 
 that the lady, too young as yet to compre- 
 hend the probability of his making love to 
 two women at once, and, in short, simply 
 believing the extremely false tale she had told, 
 shunned every opportunity of being drawn 
 into conversation by him, and would now un- 
 questionably consider any offer of marriage 
 from him as equally offensive to her aunt and 
 to herself. This was exceedingly disagree- 
 able ; but it was by no means the only penalty 
 she had to pay for the folly of believing that 
 a coai'se-minded, unpolished Englishman was 
 as capable of choosing an old woman in pre- 
 ference to a young one as a Frenchman. She 
 had also, as she well knew, to undergo the 
 ceremony of appearing in the eyes of her 
 young nieces as avoi)- etc jouee by an English- 
 man ! — It was dreadful ! 
 
 It was only towards the close of the enter- 
 tainment, and during her fourth attendance 
 at the supper-table with some guest whom 
 she particularly wished to honour, that, just 
 fter havinfr once more refreshed herself with
 
 HARGRAVE. 125 
 
 a glass of champagne and iced water, it sud- 
 denly occurred to her that she might pass off 
 the whole matter as a jest. Coventry, she 
 clearly perceived, had not the slightest sus- 
 picion of the blunder she had made ; and as 
 it was equally evident that he was as much 
 occupied with Adele as unoccupied about her, 
 she easily persuaded herself to believe that 
 matters would speedily be set right between 
 them. All, therefore, that she should have 
 to do would be to laugh at her niece for the 
 facility with which she had received the hoax 
 played upon her ; and no living being but 
 herself would be aware that the cJitre amie of 
 so many gallant hearts had at last listened to 
 a declaration of love to her niece, and fancied 
 that it was intended for herself. 
 
 The eye of an Asmodeus, in looking down 
 upon the crowded haunts of men, can descry 
 what is passing among them with much greater 
 rapidity than he can record it ; and, in like 
 manner, the historian, however gifted with 
 the power of discerning, must content himself 
 with relating a vast deal less than he sees.
 
 126 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Many curious and interesting sketches of the 
 easy, amusing, and varied tone of the cos- 
 mopolite circle usually assembled in a first- 
 rate English salon at Paris might here be 
 given, were there time and space for it. But 
 it may not be ; the narrative concerns but a 
 few, and a few only can appear in it. Enough 
 has, perhaps, already been said respecting such 
 of those as were present at Mr. Hargrave's 
 ball, to give an idea of the manner in which 
 they spent the evening ; excepting, indeed, 
 that one very general subject of conversation 
 has not been alluded to, which, as it pervaded 
 every group, and appeared to interest every 
 individual present, could not, of course, be 
 altogether uninteresting to any of them. 
 
 The recent outrages practised upon the suc- 
 cessful players, as they pursued their way 
 from Riccordo's to their several homes, was 
 still so foremost in all men's thoughts, that 
 few spake together for many minutes without 
 its being brought upon the tapis. 
 
 Many of the gentlemen present belonged 
 to the society which, at that time, assembled
 
 HARGRAVE. 127 
 
 nightly at this fashionable rendezvous for idle- 
 ness and high play; and those who did not 
 felt scarcely less interested than themselves in 
 the discussion of an afiair v^rhich seemed to 
 involve the safety of all Paris, and to com- 
 promise very disagreeably the high reputation 
 of its police. Nor were the ladies a whit less 
 anxious to hear all that was to be gathered 
 on the subject than the gentlemen ; whoever 
 appeared to have any thing to say upon it 
 was eagerly listened to, and happy was the 
 man who had picked up any atom of intelli- 
 gence upon this thrilling theme. 
 
 Of all the talkers on it. Count Romanhoff 
 was, perhaps, the one listened to with the 
 greatest avidity ; and there were many good 
 reasons for this. In the first place, he was 
 extremely handsome ; in the second, he was 
 extremely voluble, omitting no single circum- 
 stance which could excite interest, and speak- 
 ing with such perfect facility, both in English 
 and French, as to make him answer all ques- 
 tions in the language in which they were 
 asked, and thus making himself equally in-
 
 128 HARGRAVE- 
 
 telligible to all. In addition to this, he had 
 all the charm in speaking of this extraordi- 
 i;iary occurrence which is given by a lively 
 imagination, when the subject discussed is 
 peculiarly exciting to it. Never, as he declared, 
 had any thing so strongly interested him be- 
 fore ; and the fact of his having, for nearly 
 two years, constantly frequented the salon^ 
 rarely passing a night during some part of 
 which he did not enter there, being freely 
 avowed, and pretty generally known, gave 
 such authority to all he said, that 
 
 and his version of the story soon became the 
 ground-work upon which all other talkers 
 constructed their own. 
 
 Among his other listeners, he had the ho- 
 nour of attracting the ear of Prince Frederic, 
 who, seated on a sofa surrounded by a circle 
 of fair ladies, most of them sitting with the 
 partner with whom they had just waltzed 
 leaning on their chairs, chanced to catch a
 
 HARGRAVE. 129 
 
 word or two of the oft - repeated tale from a 
 group at a little distance, of which Romanhoff 
 was the centre. His Royal Highness, who 
 was well acquainted with him, called to him 
 by name, and the young Russian was in an 
 instant before him. 
 
 " Were you at the salon, Count, when this 
 last unlucky gamester walked forth with his 
 gold, unwarned by the adventure of his pre- 
 decessors?" demanded the Prince. 
 
 " I was there on that night, Monseigneur, 
 and on both the preceding ones, when the 
 former outrages took place." 
 
 " May I ask, without indiscretion, if you 
 were playing?" 
 
 " Twice out of the three times, Monseigneur, 
 I was not." 
 
 '^ Were the rooms crowded, Romanhoff?" 
 " No, your Highness ; certainly not at the 
 time that the winners left them." 
 
 " Have you any recollection," resumed the 
 Prince, fixing on him a look that expressed 
 much interest, — ^* have you any distinct recol- 
 lection of the persons remaining in the room 
 g2
 
 130 HARGRAVE. 
 
 when the tables at which the successful gam- 
 blers played broke up?" 
 
 '^ I distinctly remember several, your High- 
 ness, though probably not all," replied the 
 Count, with a slight embarrassment of man- 
 ner. 
 
 It is probable that the Prince perceived this, 
 for he changed the subject; and addressing 
 Sabina, who was seated beside him, said, — 
 
 " I trust you are not tired. Mademoiselle 
 Hargrave, and that your kindness will accord 
 me another waltz before your charming party 
 breaks up ? " 
 
 " I shall be very happy, Monseigneur," she 
 replied, with all the smiling satisfaction she 
 could muster ; but at that moment her eye 
 chanced to be fixed on Adele, whose feverish 
 animation having faded away, had left her 
 pale, languid, and fatigued. She had joined 
 the circle round the Prince expressly to elude 
 poor Coventry's evident desire to speak to her, 
 and had endeavoured, with all sincerity, to 
 listen to what was going on, in the vain hope 
 of being able for a moment to forget him.
 
 HARGRAVE. 131 
 
 Prince Frederic, as he spoke to Miss Har- 
 graye, remarked the direction of her soft and 
 sympathising eye, and, turning his own in the 
 same direction, was struck by Adele's pale 
 cheek and weary aspect. 
 
 " On my honour I fear we are indiscreet," 
 he said, " in keeping up these delightful revels 
 so long. Mademoiselle de Cordillac's fair 
 cheek ought to be on her pillow. Is it not 
 
 " Oh, no, Monseigneur/' replied Ad^le, 
 rousing herself. ** I have been listening with 
 only too much interest to your Highness's 
 questions, and the Count Romanhoff's replies, 
 concerning these horrible adventures ; and I 
 only wish your Highness had proceeded, — I 
 long to hear more." 
 
 '* Ah! ^a cher Comtek poursuivez donc,je vous 
 conjure,'' said Prince Frederic. *' But take 
 care/' he added, " that you do not make your 
 narrative too interesting, for it has certainly 
 blanched one lovely cheek already." 
 
 " Alas! your Highness, the more the story 
 is dwelt upon, the more profound must the
 
 132 HARGRAVE. 
 
 impression become ; and, perhaps, Mademoi- 
 selle de Cordillac had better listen to no more 
 of it." 
 
 *' Nay, nay, you suspect me of more weak- 
 ness than I feel, Count Romanhoff. I shall 
 hold myself greatly obliged to you, if, with 
 his Royal Highness's permission, you will go 
 back exactly to the point where you stop- 
 ped, and tell us if you remember, on all 
 or either of these occasions, having remarked 
 the presence of persons who were apparently 
 strangers to the society, and whom you did 
 not remember to have seen before?" said 
 Adele. 
 
 Every eye was turned upon Count Roman- 
 hoff in anxious expectation of his answer. 
 
 *' I cannot say I did," replied the Count, 
 after a pause. 
 
 ** Where is papa going?" said Adele, affect- 
 ing, perhaps, more interest than she felt. 
 *' Though he does not phxy, I know he is 
 often at the salon. — Let us examine him." 
 
 Mr. Hargrave, though he had not danced 
 with either of the ladies seated near the Prince,
 
 HARGRA.VE. 133 
 
 had nevertheless, in his character of host, ven- 
 tured to approach the little circle, too happy 
 at perceiving the juxtaposition of his daugh- 
 ter and his royal guest ; but having satisfied 
 himself, as it seemed, that all in that quarter 
 was as he wished it to be, he was moving 
 off, when Prince Frederic, at the suggestion 
 of Adele, stopped him by saying, — 
 
 " Let me entreat you not to leave our 
 coterie. Monsieur Hargrave. We want you 
 to assist Count Romanhoff's memory with 
 yours. Were you at Riccordo's on either of 
 the nights in question?" 
 
 *' Yes, Monseigneur, I was," said Mr. Har- 
 grave, quietly. 
 
 ^' Mais oui, mon cher Monsieur,'^ said the 
 eager Romanoff, " you were there on all the 
 three evenings?" 
 
 *' No, Count, I think you are mistaken 
 there/* said Mr. Hargrave. " On the first, 
 and on the last, I was not only there, but 
 remained, if I recollect rightly, till the rooms 
 were quite empty. I was interested on both
 
 134 HARGRAVE. 
 
 evenings, as I well remember, by a game of 
 piquet that I was watching. But on the se- 
 cond evening I think I was at the Opera." 
 
 *^ Pardon, Monsieur!" said a voice from 
 behind the chair of a fair duchess, who had 
 placed herself in front of the Prince in the 
 hope of being selected by him for the next 
 dance, — " Pardon, Monsieur!" said the gen- 
 tleman who had been her partner in the last, 
 " but I think you were at the Opera and the 
 salon both on the night of the second out- 
 rage." 
 
 " It may be so," returned Mr. Hargrave, 
 bowing to him with a courteous smile, for he 
 was a man of very distinguished rank ; " and it 
 is, indeed, highly probable that your Excel- 
 lency is right : for I am so much in the habit 
 of dropping into Riccordo's to see how things 
 are going on, that my coachman often stops 
 there without my bidding him." 
 
 " Ah!" returned the same gentleman, '* the 
 horses and servants of you men of fashion pay 
 a dreadful penalty for the interest excited by
 
 HARGRAVE. 135 
 
 the tables at Riccordo's. Do you never feel 
 a touch of pity for them, M. Hargrave, and 
 walk home?" 
 
 ** Indeed I do, your Excellency," returned 
 Mr. Hargrave. '* I very often send my car- 
 riage home from thence, and follow it on 
 foot." 
 
 " Excuse me. Monsieur I'Ambassadeur," 
 interrupted the Prince — for the personage 
 who had joined the conversation was of no 
 lesser rank, — " but you have stopped M. Har- 
 grave, who, I believe, was going to tell us, in 
 reply to the very pertinent question of his 
 charming belle jille, whether, on either of the 
 eventful evenings in question, he remarked, 
 in Riccordo's salon, any person not absolutely 
 an habitue there? — This is, surely, very im- 
 portant. I am aware that the society ac- 
 customed to meet there is numerous — too 
 much so for any one of them to feel capable 
 of answering for all the rest, as he would for 
 his familiar friends. Nevertheless, it would 
 certainly be very agreeable for all these gen- 
 tlemen, could it be proved, that on each of
 
 136 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the three nights in question, persons, or some 
 person, totally a stranger to them all, had 
 been remarked there. You, M. Hargrave, 
 as well as our friend the Count, seem to have 
 been present on every one of these occasions — 
 did you remark any individual whom you were 
 not accustomed to see there ? " 
 
 ''I think, your Highness — I think I did," 
 replied Mr. Hargrave slowly, and apparently 
 giving great attention to the question, but 
 not feeling perfectly certain how to reply to 
 it. " But the fact is," he added, " that my 
 attention is always so devoted to some par- 
 ticularly interesting game or other (which 
 saves me, your Highness, from the danger 
 of playing myself), that I am the last man 
 in the world to give such an account of the 
 company as may be depended on." 
 
 " The circumstance of your not playing 
 would seem, on the contrary, to point you 
 out as one of the very first to whom we should 
 apply," said the ambassador. " Do endeavour 
 to recall every thing tliat occurred, M. Har- 
 grave. If you have an idea, however vague,
 
 HARGRAVE. 137 
 
 that you really did remark some figure which 
 you were not accustomed to see there, you 
 must, I presume, have also an idea, if not a 
 distinct one, as to what sort of figure it was. 
 Is it not so ?" 
 
 " How admirably Monsieur le Diplomate 
 examines!" exclaimed the Prince, starting up, 
 and presenting his hand to Sabina. " But, 
 unhappily, the process must always be rather 
 tedious, and there is something very like sin 
 in wasting such moments as the present by 
 turning a court of beauty into a court of law ! V 
 
 These last words were for Sabina alone, 
 and uttered nearly in a whisper, as he led 
 her to the top of the ball-room. But his 
 movement indicated, with sufficient clearness, 
 that he thought the subject of the robbery 
 was pretty well worn out ; and this was quite 
 enough to make it mauvais ton to talk of it 
 in any voice above a whisper for the rest of 
 the evening. 
 
 The evening, however, or, more properly 
 speaking, the night, was drawing to a close. 
 The appearance of his Royal Highness, walk- 
 ing up the room with a fair danseuse on his
 
 138 HARGRAVE. 
 
 arm, was a signal for the weary orchestra 
 once more to pour forth notes that might 
 revive the worn-out energies of the most lazy 
 of listeners. His Excellency, meanwhile, with 
 an air tout soil peu piqut, took his departure, 
 and Mr. Hargrave once more indulged in the 
 soothing occupation of watching the lofty head 
 of Prince Frederic bending itself to the level 
 of the fair Sabina. Oh ! what a world of 
 happy emblematic augury was there in that 
 spectacle! Neither the consciousness of ruined 
 fortunes, nor any of the anxieties which en- 
 sued from it, could prevent Mr. Hargrave 
 from tasting again all the exquisite pleasure 
 of gratified vanity and strengthening hope. 
 
 As he made his way to a convenient sofa, 
 from whence, without being too conspicuous, 
 he might enjoy the spectacle which gave birth 
 to this delicious reverie, the dispirited and 
 miserable-looking Coventry passed him in his 
 way out. He had not intended to address 
 Adele again; but she, too, was in his path, 
 and he stopped, almost involuntarily, to speak 
 to her. 
 
 *' You are going, Mr. Coventrj-," she said,
 
 HARGRAVE. 139 
 
 with an air of gay reproach, and looking at 
 his hat, which he carried in his hand. 
 
 " Indeed I think it is time. Mademoiselle," 
 he replied ; " even your roses have somewhat 
 faded since the hall began, and I never saw 
 your father look so ill." 
 
 *^ Does he ?" said Mademoiselle de Cordillac, 
 looking towards him with some anxiety : ** I 
 have not remarked it.*' 
 
 *'Then, perhaps, it is not so. Perhaps I 
 only see the reflection of the weary, wretched 
 feelings of my own heart ! — Farewell, Made- 
 moiselle de Cordillac!'* 
 
 And without even waiting for a look in 
 reply, Alfred Coventry disappeared. 
 
 "Wretched and weary feelings!" mur- 
 mured Adele, remaining on the spot where 
 he had left her, and unconsciously keeping 
 her eyes fixed on the door by which he had 
 passed out. " What can he mean ? — Oh ! what 
 can he mean by calling his feelings wretched ? 
 — Why should Alfred Coventry be wretched ? 
 He has chosen his bride — he has wooed — he 
 has won her ! There can be no wretchedness
 
 140 HARGRAVE. 
 
 in this, let her be who or \yhat she may ; for, 
 was it not his choice? Why should Alfred 
 Coventry be wretched ? " 
 
 But it was in vain she continued to sraze 
 through the vacant door, no one appeared 
 there to answer her. She looked round the 
 room for this chosen bride of the unfortunate 
 young man who so frankly avowed himself 
 to be wretched, despite his success, and almost 
 determined to name him to her, that she might 
 mark her countenance, and so learn if any 
 thing unpleasant had passed between them. 
 But Madame de Ilautrivage was nowhere to 
 be seen ; and feeling herself, now {hat all 
 reason for exertion was over, hardly able to 
 stand, she, too, stole off, leaving a whirling 
 circle of lighter hearts than her own to watch 
 the daylight of a bright spring morning, peep- 
 ing through the windows of the conservatory, 
 as if to scatter the rear of dancers within, as 
 it had already done the rear of darkness 
 without.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Well, Adele !" saidMadame de Hautrivage, 
 on joining the late breakfast-table on the fol- 
 lowing morning, and addressing her niece 
 with a sort of mystifying air, intended to 
 appear extremely jocose — "well, Adele, have 
 you found me out? And are you ready to 
 confess that you are the very readiest mouette 
 that ever was led off upon a false scent ?" 
 
 " Confess what, aunt?" returned the heavy- 
 eyed Adele. " I do not understand you." 
 
 " Charmant ! — Admirable ! — C'est parfait ! 
 — mais cest jmrfait f returned Madame de 
 Hautrivage. 
 
 Perfectly unable to comprehend what all 
 this might mean, Mademoiselle de Cordillac
 
 142 HARGRAVE. 
 
 shook her head, languidly attempted to smile, 
 but said no more. 
 
 "•^ Et toiy Sabina! have you not, with all 
 your prodigious reading and meditative sedate- 
 ness, — have you not wisdom enough to discover 
 the delicious trick I have played upon your 
 sister? — Mais cest incroyahle!'' 
 
 '* Vraiment, ma tante,*' replied Sabina, while 
 a feeling nearly resembling contempt curled 
 her pretty lips, " I am totally unable to com- 
 prehend you." 
 
 *' Then you are, both of you, the very 
 silliest pair of children I ever met with. You 
 still believe, then, Adele, that M. Alfred de 
 Coventry is about to be taken by me en 
 seconde noce?^' 
 
 " I cannot do otherwise than believe what 
 you told me, madame," replied Adele, but 
 with considerable less languor than before. 
 '* But if I misunderstood what you intended 
 to say, I shall be obliged to you if you will 
 explain yourself farther." 
 
 ** Eh bieUf done, ma pouvre petite! don't 
 look so tremendously grave, because it is too
 
 HARGRAVE. 143 
 
 ridiculous to turn les petites plaisanteries (Tun 
 esprit, gai comme le mien, into sober earnest! 
 But the fact is, that I told you all that long 
 story about M. Coventry merely to try a little 
 experiment. I wanted to find out whether 
 you really were as vulgarly in love, in la 
 mode Anglaise, as I suspected. Of the young 
 man's attachment to you, though he has not 
 yet taken courage to make his proposals in 
 form {excusez, ma ckere, mais les Anglais sont 
 tout peu bete), — of his attachment and in- 
 tentions towards you there could be no doubt ; 
 but, feeling that there would be something 
 offensively indelicate in hinting to a young 
 person like you, Adele, that I thought it pos- 
 sible she could like one man better than 
 another, I resolved, if possible, to obtain the 
 information I wished for by stratagem. But 
 little did I imagine, my dear, that you could 
 be bete enough to let ma petite supercherie 
 continue in force after you had seen your 
 lover. For shame, Adele! — how could you 
 be so foolish as to imagine that I was going 
 myself to marry young Mons. Alfred de 
 Coventry?"
 
 144 HARGRAVE. 
 
 All the suffering which this deception had 
 brought upon her — all the lost happiness 
 which she might have enjoyed during the hours 
 of the preceding evening, flashed through the 
 mind of Adele in an instant. But she was 
 constitutionally sweet-tempered and constitu- 
 tionally gay ; and, instead of resenting the 
 misery her aunt had, by her own account, 
 thus wantonly caused her, she was almost 
 ready to embrace her for the joy her present 
 statement brought. Never, as she told Sabina 
 when they were again ttte-a-tete, never had 
 she known before what happiness meant ! 
 
 ** Surely, Sabina," she said, ** the good 
 God must have sent sorrow into the world 
 in order to make us value, at its worth, the 
 blessings he sends with it. Is it a sin, dearest, 
 — is it indelicate, to feel so very, very much 
 delighted as I do at remembering all the love 
 I read in poor Alfred's eyes last night ? Oh ! 
 he did look so wretched when he left me ! 
 And I behaved to him, Sabina, — you can have 
 no idea how I treated him! So much civil 
 contempt and gay indifference ! Dear Alfred ! 
 And he, all the time, being, I do verily be-
 
 HARGRAVE. 145 
 
 lieve, almost as wretched as I was myself. 
 But, thank Heaven, it is passed ! Where do 
 you think I shall first see him again, Sabina?" 
 
 " Not here, I fear, dear Adele," replied her 
 sister, with a look in which anger and vexation 
 still lingered : "he can hardly be expected to 
 volunteer a visit after being treated as you 
 describe." 
 
 "Then he must be invited, Sabina," said 
 Adele, laughing. " I do not intend to stand 
 upon much ceremony with him now, I promise 
 you. If I could but make you comprehend 
 how I treated him last night, you would be 
 aware of the necessity of being a little more 
 than commonly civil to him now. Had I any 
 doubt about his loving me, it would be a 
 different thing, you know ; but even in the 
 midst of all my misery last night, I saw that. 
 In short, I believed him to be as audaciously 
 false as he was meanly mercenary, — at once a 
 traitor to my foolish aunt and to me. And, 
 after unjustly loading him with such foul 
 suspicions, think you not, Sabina, that I owe 
 him some atonement ? Think you not that we 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 HARGRAVE. 
 
 might, without impropriety, desire papa to 
 invite him here ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do," returned Sabina. *' Prince 
 Frederic told me last night that papa had in- 
 vited him to dinner ; and if his gay-hearted 
 Royal Highness has not made a blunder, I will 
 beg my father to let Mr. Coventry be one of 
 the party invited to meet him. Shall I, 
 Adele?" 
 
 " Yes, dearest, yes ! It will be a most 
 flattering mark of distinction. How sweet of 
 you to think of it ! But I had no idea, Sabina, 
 that the Prince was coming to dine here. What 
 an extraordinary man your father is, Sabina ! 
 Where will you find another man, without 
 rank, title, or political importance of any kind, 
 holding the situation that he does here? He 
 certainly has most charming talents ; and I 
 like Prince Frederic for the marked distinction 
 he shews him. It really will be a great com- 
 pliment paid to a private English gentleman. 
 I don't think he can have made any blunder 
 about papa having invited him : do you ? " 
 
 '' I do not feel quite sure about it," replied
 
 HARGRAVE. 147 
 
 Sabina ; " and I do not think the Prince felt 
 quite sure about it himself, because his phrase 
 was, ' Si je ne me trompe jjas, voire aimable 
 papa ma prie :' but he did not say a word 
 about the day when this honour was to fall 
 upon us." 
 
 '* Let us go to the library and ask papa all 
 about it," said Adele, rising gaily from her 
 chair. " I suppose he is up by this time ; 
 though poor Coventry's last words, by the by, 
 just before he left the rooms, were that papa 
 looked ill. I dare say he must have been ex- 
 cessively tired. Miserable as I was, I could 
 not help observing how admirably he did the 
 honours." 
 
 "Dear, dear papa!" returned Sabina, fer- 
 vently, "how I do love him! And do you 
 know, Adele, I am quite convinced that all 
 this immense trouble that he takes is for us. 
 I cannot bear to see him look as pale as he did 
 last night while that tiresome Count Iloman- 
 hofF was prosing away at such terrible length 
 about the business at Riccordo's. It struck me 
 instantly, as I observed it, that he had been
 
 148 HARGRAVE. 
 
 exerting himself beyond what could be pleasant 
 to him. ... I hope, if he does give this dinner, 
 that it will not fatigue him, as I am certain 
 the ball did last night." 
 
 " Fatigue him, Sabina ! Oh ! nonsense, my 
 dear ! I know no person in the whole circle 
 of Paris hon ton who appears to enjoy society 
 so much as your father ; and as to receiving, 
 it is evidently his delight : so don't you go, 
 you foolish girl, and endeavour to persuade him 
 that he is too delicate in health to preside at 
 a dinner without danger of turning pale before 
 the end of it. I should excessively enjoy this 
 diner des elites, I confess. Come, Sabina, let 
 us go to him." 
 
 Nothing could be more amiable or more 
 endearing than the terms on which the graceful 
 widower lived with the two young girls whom 
 his beautiful wife had left in his charge. An 
 excellent library — one of the rarest accom- 
 paniments to domestic comfort and elegance 
 to be found in the French capital — was the 
 room in which Mr. Hargrave always took his 
 breakfast and spent the first hours of the morn-
 
 HARGRAVE. 149 
 
 ing; but there was nothing sulky in this 
 retreat, for Adele and Sabina were not only 
 permitted egress and regress without restraint, 
 but were made very cleai'ly to understand that 
 they could in no way please him better than 
 by coming to chat with him there on all the 
 petits poUtiques of the salons, and that with as 
 much freedom and unreserve as if they were 
 still gossiping to each other in their own 
 boudoir. 
 
 It was, therefore, with all confidence of a 
 cordial welcome that the two sisters took their 
 way, arm in arm, to the library ; but when 
 Adele laid her hand upon the lock she found 
 that the door was fastened from within. 
 
 " Good Heaven ! he is not up yet ! " cried 
 Sabina, with a feeling of alarm. "Indeed, 
 Adele, I am afraid he is ill ! " 
 
 ** No such thing," returned her sister, gaily. 
 " I am sure I hear him in the room." And 
 playing a light tattoo with her delicate 
 knuckles on the door, she cried, " Ouvrez^ 
 monsieur, sil vous plait.'' 
 
 The summons was immediately answered,
 
 150 HARGRAVE. 
 
 not by the opening of the door, hut hy the 
 voice of Mr. Hargrave, who, apparently too 
 busy to come to them immediately, said, cheer- 
 fully, " Attendez, mes helles, pour un instant ;" 
 and for a few minutes they remained standing 
 at the door. This was so unusual, that when 
 at length Mr. Hargrave, still en robe de cham- 
 hre, opened it to them, Adele, whose spirits, 
 always gay, were now exuberant, seized upon 
 him as he appeared within it, exclaiming, 
 *' What have you been about, notre papa ? I 
 arrest you au nom du roi. Nothing short of 
 having some treasonable correspondence to 
 hide could have made you, the most preux des 
 chevaliers, keep two beautiful damsels waiting 
 so long at your door." 
 
 Sabina, who with her loving eyes fixed on 
 her father*s face, was waiting for her morning 
 salute, till her sister should have released him, 
 almost screamed at the sudden change in his 
 complexion which she remarked, as with smiles 
 and caresses he returned the address of Adele, 
 and after the interval of a moment, extended a 
 hand to each and led them towards the fire.
 
 HARGRAVE. 151 
 
 *' You are not well, papa!" she exclaimed, 
 ** I am quite sure of it. Adele says that Mr. 
 Coventry remarked last night " 
 
 *' Remarked what?" interrupted Mr. Har- 
 grave, abruptly. " Who remarked 1 What do 
 you mean, Sabina?" 
 
 " Only, dearest papa, that Mr. Coventry 
 remarked your looking pale and fatigued last 
 night ; and I cannot help thinking myself that 
 you are looking unwell to-day. I suppose it is 
 impossible for any body to be so completely the 
 centre of a large circle as you were last night 
 — so entirely the main-spring of all that was 
 agreeable and animated throughout the whole 
 evening — without feeling fatigued by it." 
 
 "You little flatterer!" exclaimed Mr. Har- 
 grave, fondly kissing her, and at once chasing 
 all fears for his health by the gaiety and ani- 
 mation of his manner. " There were others, 
 methinks, who were more like a main-spring 
 of all that was agreeable than your antiquated 
 father, Sabina. What say you, par exemple, 
 to Prince Frederic?" 
 
 ** Oh, certainly, he was very agreeable too!*'
 
 152 HARGRAVE. 
 
 replied Sabina ; " and it is exactly about him 
 that we are come to talk to you, papa." 
 
 " Exactly about him, papa," joined in 
 Adele. " Is it true that you have invited him 
 to dinner?" 
 
 "Invited him to dinner! No, indeed, I 
 have not. Though I am sure if I thought the 
 invitation would be agreeable to him he should 
 have it directly. What was it put this notion 
 into your head, Adele?" 
 
 *' Nay, papa, not into my head. It was put 
 into Sabina's head, and that by no other than 
 his Royal Highness himself." 
 
 ** Is this so, my dearest Sabina?" demanded 
 Mr. Hargrave, his whole countenance sud- 
 denly lighted up with an expression of hope 
 and joy that might almost be described as 
 ecstasy. *' Did the Prince express a wish that 
 I should invite him to dinner?" 
 
 *' Why, no, papa, that is not exactly the 
 way I should describe what passed. Priuce 
 Frederic said, he thouyht you had asked him 
 to dinner, and most certainly he seemed very 
 well inclined to come. But he did not say
 
 HARGRAVE. 153 
 
 that he hoped you would ask him," replied 
 Sabina. 
 
 "The difference is but trifling, my love — 
 very trifling indeed," rejoined her father. 
 " Of course there is no doubt, my dear girls, 
 about his being asked. The only question re- 
 maining to be solved is, whether it shall be a 
 state party, as I may call such a one as I could 
 give him, or a domestic one. I must have 
 your judgment upon this, my dear girls, be- 
 fore I definitively pronounce my own. What 
 is your opinion, Sabina? Which of these 
 styles do you think he would prefer?" 
 
 '* Before I can answer, papa, you must tell 
 me what you mean by a state party," replied 
 Sabina. 
 
 " By a state party, dearest, I mean one 
 consisting entirely of personages of the very 
 highest rank that I can venture to invite ; and 
 I am happy to say that this excludes very 
 few, even of the very highest. Of course, if 
 the entertainment be given upon this footing, 
 every thing must be in accordance with 
 it — every thing must be in the very highest 
 h2
 
 154 HARGRAVE. 
 
 style of splendour, and no one whatever of 
 plebeian rank admitted," replied Mr. Har- 
 grave, with great animation. '' But, on the 
 other hand, Sabina," he added, after the pause 
 of a moment, and fixing an inquiring gaze on 
 the face of his daughter, "on the other hand, 
 Sabina, if you think he would be equally well, 
 or better pleased by being received almost, as 
 it were, en famille, of course I can have no 
 objection to it." 
 
 " Well then, papa, that is what T think he 
 would like best," eagerly replied Sabina, whose 
 predominating idea through the whole conver- 
 sation was the getting Alfred Coventry in- 
 vited. She had sympathised too sincerely 
 with all that Adele had suffered concerning 
 him not to feel as desirous as herself that all 
 things should be set right between them ; and 
 she was, perhaps, more alarmed than her sister 
 by the idea that the apparently capricious 
 treatment he had received might cause a last- 
 ing separation. An invitation to meet Prince 
 Frederic at dinner, especially if the party con- 
 sisted of a few only, could not fail of being
 
 HARGRAVE. 155 
 
 acknowledged by him as a very flattering dis- 
 tinction ; and every word she uttered on the 
 subject had this origin and this object. Poor 
 Sabina! she little guessed the importance of 
 every syllable she spoke. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave listened to her as if his life, 
 and her life too, hung upon what she said ; 
 and the joy — the rapture, which thrilled 
 through his whole frame as he heard Sabina 
 frankly acknowledge, with her innocent *' well 
 then, papa," that she thought Prince Frederic 
 would like a domestic party best, actually 
 brought tears into his eyes. But he felt that 
 this was not the stage of the business at which 
 it would be wise to let such emotion appear, 
 and stooping to arrange the fading embers of 
 the fire, he contrived to subdue this vehemence 
 of feeling before it was observed. 
 
 '* And you, Ad^le," he resumed, turning 
 gaily to Mademoiselle de Cordillac, " what is 
 your opinion on the subject ? Do you also 
 think that his Royal Highness would rather be 
 received here en hon ami than en grand 
 seigneur?'*
 
 156 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Now the fact decidedly was, that Made- 
 moiselle de Cordillac had thought less about 
 his Royal Highness Prince Frederic, his 
 merits or demerits, his likings or dislikings, 
 than any other individual in Paris, perhaps, 
 who had been equally often in his company. 
 Young ladies, as much in love as was our 
 Adele, will not attribute this remarkable in- 
 difference on her part to any radical contempt 
 or aversion to princes or princedoms, but to a 
 cause which they will perfectly well under- 
 stand. However, when Mr. Hargrave thus 
 demanded her opinion on a point upon which 
 she fancied that somebody else was concerned 
 as well as Prince Frederic, her countenance 
 betokened a little confusion, but no indiffer- 
 ence, as she replied, — 
 
 *' From what Sabina says, papa, I have no 
 doubt that he would prefer a small private 
 party to .one that was stately and cere- 
 monious." 
 
 There were two distinct feelings which 
 caused Mademoiselle de Cordillac to blush 
 as she said this. The first arose from the con-
 
 HARGRAVE. 157 
 
 sciousness that Sabina had, in truth, said no- 
 thing whatever to her which might justify her 
 forming an opinion on the subject ; and the 
 second from feeling that what she was saying 
 arose from a motive so decidedly selfish, and 
 so utterly impossible to be acknowledged, that 
 she was very nearly ashamed of herself for 
 uttering it. 
 
 But what would she have felt, could she 
 have guessed the interpretation put both upon 
 her words and the blush by which they were 
 accompanied ? Mr. Hargrave, in common with 
 every one well acquainted with her, had a very 
 high opinion of Ad ^le's judgment and powers 
 of observation : the delicacy and genuine mo- 
 desty of her character were equally well known 
 to him ; and it was pretty nearly impossible 
 that she could have expressed herself in any 
 manner better calculated to impress him with 
 the belief that her opinion of Prin«»rFrederic's 
 views was exactly the same as his own. At 
 that moment his happiness could scarcely have 
 been augmented by hearing the young man de- 
 clare his passion in form. All doubt — all hesi-
 
 158 HARGRAVE. 
 
 tation vanished entirely from his mind, and 
 he only longed to be alone, that he might give 
 himself up to the unrestrained enjoyment of 
 the prospect before him, and to the means by 
 which the costly splendour which surrounded 
 him might be sustained till his Sabina became 
 Princess Frederic of ******. 
 
 '* Now, dear girls, you must go," he said. 
 "■ You remember that I was very busy when 
 you came, — so much so, as you perceived, that 
 I locked myself in ; a precaution exceedingly 
 rare for me to take, because as you both, I 
 believe, pretty well know, the oftener I see 
 your saucy faces peeping in upon me, the better 
 I am pleased. But the fact is, that I have va- 
 rious papers which I am anxious to look over 
 and arrange, and shall therefore certainly suffer 
 no one but your two fair selves to break in 
 upon me." 
 
 " We will vanish instantly, papa," said Sa- 
 bina; " but I have one very great favour to 
 ask before 1 go, and I do assure you that I 
 have a very particular reason for it, which, 
 perhaps, one of these days I will tell you.
 
 HARGRAVE. 159 
 
 Will you be so very kind, when you invite 
 Prince Frederic, as to invite Mr. Coventry 
 to meet him ?" 
 
 A score of merry smiles seemed playing 
 about Mr. Hargrave's mouth as he answered 
 her. He had not been insensible to his dis- 
 tinguished young countryman's attention to 
 his step-daughter, and was sufficiently well 
 informed of his fortune and position in society 
 to make him exceedingly well pleased at be- 
 lieving that he would propose for her. This 
 marriage would be such as even Prince Fre- 
 deric might approve, and it would, unquestion- 
 ably, be much more desirable that Adele should 
 be married, than appear at the court of ****^ 
 as a hanger-on upon her sister. That he 
 should accompany her, share her greatness, 
 watch over her happiness, and augment it, as 
 he had ever done, by his devoted affection, was 
 in every way desirable. But this was enough ; 
 it was better she should have no more relations 
 thrown upon her. 
 
 " Mr. Coventry must be asked, must he?" 
 was the question by which Sabina's petition
 
 160 HARGRAVE. 
 
 was answered ; but it was uttered in a tone 
 that left no fear for its success. " And does 
 Adele," he continued, " approve this also?" 
 
 *' Never mind, papa, about that," replied 
 Sabina, laughing, and leading off her sister. 
 " I am your own daughter, you know, and I 
 shall think it very cruel if you refuse me, and 
 be jealous as a Turk, I assure you, if you 
 should deem it necessary to apply to her about 
 it." 
 
 "Very well then, Mademoiselle Hargrave, 
 I will take my orders from you, as in duty 
 bound. Mr. Coventry shall be asked, and 
 will, I dare say, have the kindness to excuse 
 its being only a sort of — of family party. 
 Next Wednesday, 1 presume, will be distant 
 enough for so unceremonious an invitation ; 
 and when you have fairly disappeared, young 
 ladies, I will write a note to Prince Frederic, 
 another to Coventry ; and, if you object not, I 
 will also invite le Due et la Duchesse de Ver- 
 n.ont, which will take off, — that is, I mean, will 
 give a better air to the party." 
 
 The young ladies having distinctly expressed
 
 HARGRAVE. 161 
 
 their approbation respecting every part of this 
 arrangement, and each received a kiss from its 
 projector, retired ; leaving Mr. Hargrave one 
 of the happiest, if not the very happiest, man 
 in Paris.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the general feeling of 
 hilarity which seemed on that day to pervade 
 every part of Mr. Hargrave's family. The 
 cause of his own intoxicating exhilaration has 
 been already sufficiently explained, as well as 
 that of the so lately wretched Adele. Sabina's 
 contentment, sweet soul ! arose from believing 
 that she had set matters en train for re-esta- 
 blishing a good understanding between her 
 sister and the man she so evidently loved, 
 despite all the laws of French etiquette and 
 established usage. Nor was Madame de Haut- 
 rivage much behind the rest of this happy 
 family in contentment ; for she was greatly 
 relieved from sundry tormenting fears by hear- 
 ing that Mr. Coventry had been invited to
 
 HARGRAVE. 163 
 
 dinner, in a manner so flattering as, beyond all 
 question, to atone for any offence he might 
 have received from the altered manners of 
 Mademoiselle de Cordillac ; and, moreover, 
 she was very far from being insensible to the 
 honour and glory of being one of a family where 
 a royal prince was invited to dinner with as 
 much freedom as a private gentleman. Of her 
 brother-in-law's ulterior views she knew no- 
 thing; that gentleman having very judiciously 
 decided in his own mind that her participation 
 in the business might very probably do harm, 
 but could by no possibility be productive of 
 good. 
 
 Before the family met at dinner, an answer 
 had arrived from the Prince, most graciously 
 accepting the invitation, and couched in terms 
 of such amiable condescension that Mr. Har- 
 grave felt, as he read it, as if he were already 
 his son. The answer given at the hotel where 
 Mr. Coventry lodged, was, that he was out of 
 town, but that the note should be given to him 
 as soon as he returned. 
 
 This seemed to satisfy them all : even Adele
 
 164 HARGRAVE. 
 
 would not suffer herself to feel disappointed at 
 not receiving a less doubtful answer, reasonably 
 consoling her spirit with the reflection that, 
 even if Alfred Coventry did not return in time 
 to accept it, the conciliatory object of the note 
 would not be lost upon him, and that it was 
 not very likely he should omit coming to thank 
 her father for it. 
 
 The late hour at which they had all retired 
 to rest on the preceding evening disinclined 
 them from any engagement ; even the Italian 
 Opera was given up, and they all lounged 
 round the tea-table in the library, lazily en- 
 o^ao^ed in discussing: the brilliant effect of the 
 last night's entertainment, and the style of that 
 to be given to the Prince on the following 
 Wednesday, particularly as to the hours after 
 dinner; when it was hoped the prhna donna 
 of the season would vouchsafe, for the con- 
 sideration of some thousand francs, to favour 
 them with a little of her precious breath. 
 
 **Ah! cest ca !^' exclaimed Madame de 
 llautrivage, upon hearing Mr. Hargrave pro- 
 pose this exquisite finale for the day. " //
 
 HARGRAVE. 165 
 
 faut avouer que mon beau frtre s'y connait ;" 
 and then, after a few moments of more silent 
 reflection than she often gave to any subject, 
 she addressed herself to the two girls, and 
 very gravely inquired what dresses they in- 
 tended to wpar. 
 
 They both laughed at this extraordinary 
 anxiety for their beautification, but declared 
 that they had not as yet taken the subject into 
 consideration, and that they did not imagine 
 the choice of their dresses on the occasion 
 would be a matter of any very great im- 
 portance. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, there, my dear chil- 
 dren," said Mr. Hargrave. '* Madame de 
 Hautrivage is perfectly right. It really is a 
 matter of importance. It is precisely one of 
 those circumstances in which the greatest tact 
 is required. To be too plainly dressed would be 
 disrespectful, and in every way to be avoided. 
 Yet a costume in any degree approaching full 
 dress would, if possible, be worse still ; be- 
 cause it would be most decidedly mauvais ton. 
 However, I have no fears but that all this will
 
 166 HARGRAVE. 
 
 be perfectly well arranged. You have, both 
 of you, my dear children, very excellent taste 
 in dress ; and the reputation of Madame de 
 Hautrivage on this point is established upon 
 the basis of universal applause. It therefore 
 must appear superfluous for me to give an 
 
 opinion on the subject, nevertheless " Here 
 
 Mr. Hargrave stopped, and looked round 
 upon the three ladies with a sort of timid 
 smile, as if fearful of giving offence by too 
 rashly interfering on a subject of so much 
 delicacy. 
 
 "Oh! do go on, papa," cried Adele, eagerly. 
 " I would rather consult you upon this point 
 than all the marchaiides de modes in Paris. 
 You have the most perfect taste of any person 
 I have ever known. Do tell us what it was 
 you were going to say when you so very 
 cruelly stopped short." 
 
 " You are most flatteringly kind, my dear 
 Adele," returned Mr. Hargrave, laughing, as 
 if in jest, yet at the same time very evidently 
 wishing to accept the ofltice offered to him. 
 " And if Sabina is equally condescending, I
 
 HARGRAVE. 167 
 
 would take advantage of it by indulging my 
 fancy for you both. You, Adele, with your 
 fine dark eyes, rich chestnut tresses, and your 
 * nut-brown ' skin, I would dress, very lite- 
 rally, couleur de rose. But the robe must be of 
 no ordinary quality, observe. I should wish 
 to see you in the very richest satin you could 
 purchase, made perfectly plain, and with no 
 ornament whatever, except earrings, brooch, 
 and bracelets of pearls ; no flowers in the hair, 
 no garniture, no finery of any sort." 
 
 " Si fait!'' exclaimed Adele, gaily clapping 
 her hands. " In this manner will I be dressed, 
 and in no other. I went dress-buying with 
 Madame de St. Aubin the other day ; and in 
 a magazin to which she took me I saw the 
 exact thing papa describes — pale as the eglan- 
 tine — rich as the state robe of Madame de 
 Pompadour. The fate of my toilet for that 
 day is fixed beyond appeal. And now for 
 Sabina?" 
 
 *' For Sabina," said Mr. Hargrave, proudly 
 turning his admiring looks upon his daughter, 
 — " for Sabina 1 would have something that
 
 168 HARGRAVE. 
 
 should almost make her look like a young 
 queen, by its costly, yet simple richness. The 
 delicacy of her complexion, the lightness of her 
 figure, and the peculiar youthfulness of her 
 general appearance, pretty as I confess it to 
 be, misht be in dangrer of sinking: into insis:- 
 nificance in the plainness of a dinner-dress, 
 unless it were redeemed by its intrinsic ele- 
 gance and splendour. Sabina must be in rich 
 white silk, brocaded with small satin flowers — 
 all white, of course. Her little feet must be 
 in black silk, her hair must be braided with 
 pearls (the young lady's casket, any more than 
 your own, Adele, is not poor in that article), 
 and her brooch, bracelets, and earrings, must 
 be en suite. Vouee au blanCy excepting the 
 black shoes, she must not permit any mixture 
 of colour to approach her ; unless, perhaps — 
 but of this I am not quite certain — she should 
 place in her bosom a sprig of myrtle in full 
 blossom." 
 
 Mr. Hargrave uttered these oracular words 
 with his eyes half closed, as if by shutting out 
 external objects he could render more perfect
 
 HARGRAVE. 169 
 
 the image that his fancy was sketching within. 
 When he had finished, he looked round upon 
 the three ladies with an air, half-serious, half- 
 jesting, and as if ready to fall into either vein, 
 according as they might seem disposed. Never- 
 theless, it was not very difficult to perceive 
 that in all he said he was quite in earnest, 
 and really desirous that the suggestions thus 
 lightly thrown out should he acted upon. 
 
 " Exquisite !" exclaimed Madame de Hau- 
 trivage : ^' Et puis moi?" 
 
 " For you, dear lady, I can only say," re- 
 plied Mr. Hargrave, gallantly bowing to her, 
 *' that I would wish you to adorn yourself on 
 this occasion with the same admirable taste 
 and propriety which you invariably display on 
 all others." 
 
 " The dress you have imagined for Sabina, 
 papa, will be very becoming to her," said 
 Ad^le ; adding, after a short pause, '* But will 
 she not look almost like a bride if she is to be 
 so entirely in white ? Change but the myrtle 
 for an orange-flower, and she would be per- 
 fectly ready for the altar." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 HARGRAVE. 
 
 A smile, which he seemed disposed to con- 
 ceal by turning aside his head, passed over 
 the countenance of Mr. Hargrave, but he 
 immediately resumed his gravity, and re- 
 plied, — 
 
 " Changing the myrtle for the orange, 
 Adele, would indeed make all the difference ; 
 but that all is much. Well then ! will you be 
 good girls, and do exactly as I bid you ?" 
 
 '* To be sure we will !" was the joint and 
 separate answer of both. " We must start 
 upon our shopping the moment breakfast is 
 over to-morrow morning," said Adele; *' for 
 truly we shall not give our dressmaker too 
 much time. But there is one preliminary that 
 you must perform, papa, if it so please you. 
 We are going to a marchand who knows us 
 not, and I shall therefore choose to pay for 
 what I order. We have been so gay and so 
 busy that I have never found time to ask you 
 for our usual settlement of the last quarter's 
 account, and I am absolutely sans sous. Will 
 you recruit my empty purse?" 
 
 *' Will I, dearest?" said Mr. Hargrave,
 
 HARGRAVE. 171 
 
 rising with great alacrity. ** Yes I will; though 
 you are a naughty child for not reminding me 
 of this before." 
 
 Being quite en famille, the party were sit- 
 ting in the library ; and in order immediately 
 to comply with his step-daughter's request, 
 Mr. Hargrave opened a Bramah-locked drawer 
 in his elegant library-table, which, with many 
 other costly articles of furniture, had been 
 imported from his native London, and taking 
 out a handful of gold coin, locked the drawer 
 again ; and returning to the table at which the 
 ladies were sitting, threw the glittering treasure 
 before the two girls, saying — "There, mes 
 belles ! Divide them between you. Only tell 
 me, when you have counted them, how many 
 fall to the share of Adele, that I may enter it 
 on her account. Every farthing of your in- 
 come which you do not receive, my love, goes, 
 as you know, into the funds, and increases 
 your snug little fortune. So do not be too 
 extravagant." 
 
 ** Nay, papa, I am not in the least inclined
 
 172 HARGRAVE. 
 
 to be economical just now — especially when 
 I see such a splendid heap of gold before 
 me ! 
 
 *' Is it not magnificent, A dele, to have money 
 paid us in this style?" demanded Sabina, with 
 childish glee. *' Where in the world, papa, 
 did you get all these beautiful sovereigns?" 
 she added, beginning busily to employ herself 
 by dividing the pieces into two equal por- 
 tions. 
 
 But Adcle, who seemed inclined to resign 
 the finance department to her sister, happened 
 to have her eyes fixed on her step-father as 
 this question was asked, and was surprised by 
 seeing him bite his under lip, and contract his 
 brows into a frown, which it was very rare to 
 see upon his usually bland and smiling coun- 
 tenance. But the painful feeling, whether of 
 body or mind, passed away in an instant, and 
 he replied, — 
 
 '* Where did I get this gold, Sabina? From 
 that fertile source of all good things, the 
 banking establishment of Messrs. Lafitte and
 
 HARGRAVE. 173 
 
 Co. Is it enough for you both? Knot, say 
 the word, and I will produce as much more ; 
 and that, I think, will about empty my hoards 
 of your admired metal for the present." 
 
 Adele was startled by hearing him say this : 
 for when he had left his place to seek the 
 money, her eyes accidentally followed him, 
 and she was so placed as to perceive that the 
 small drawer he opened was full of gold pieces, 
 so full, indeed, as to make her more than 
 share the wonder afterwards expressed by 
 Sabina at the sight of a small portion of them. 
 The assertion, therefore, that another such 
 handful as he had laid on the table would 
 *' empty his hoard," was unintelligible. She 
 sought not, however, any explanation from his 
 countenance; a very painful feeling caused 
 her, on the contrary, to look away from him, 
 and to fix her eyes upon a book that lay before 
 her ; and while her father, her aunt, and Sa- 
 bina, continued in a light and lively strain to 
 discuss the various particulars of the flattering 
 visit they were about to receive, she sat in 
 deep abstraction, pondering the circumstance
 
 174 HARGRAVE. 
 
 which had just occurred, and vainly searching 
 for any possible interpretation of it which might 
 satisfy her. 
 
 That her step-father had uttered a decided 
 falsehood was certain. But his reason for 
 doing it appeared so perfectly inscrutable, that 
 she harassed herself In vain to find any plausi- 
 ble explanation of it. That he should wish to 
 deceive herself or Sabina upon such a subject, 
 or indeed upon any other, seemed impossible. 
 It might — it must be her aunt, from whom, 
 for some mysterious reason or other, he wished 
 to conceal the fact that he had in the house a 
 large sum in gold. AVas it not within the 
 reach of probability that he might think the 
 good lady likely to wish for a portion of it, by 
 way of a loan for her card-purse, when, per- 
 haps, he had obtained it for some similar 
 purpose for himself? But why not wait for 
 her demand, and refuse it when it was made, 
 in any manner which he might think best ? 
 Why volunteer an untruth for any purpose? 
 Why so wantonly have recourse to it upon an 
 occasion so very insignificant ?
 
 HARGRAVE. 175 
 
 But Adele was weary of conjectures long be- 
 fore she could end them. It was of no use 
 that she told herself again and again, that, let 
 the cause be what it would, it could not be a 
 matter of any consequence ; but, of conse- 
 quence or not, her restive thoughts would 
 turn to the subject, nor did it leave her in 
 peace till she fell asleep. Long before that 
 time, however, she had become perfectly con- 
 vinced that her excellent stepfather was blame- 
 less, that he was right, and must have been 
 right in doing what he had done, and that she 
 alone was to blame for the pertinacious weak- 
 ness with which she permitted her thoughts to 
 fix themselves on the subject. 
 
 In this frame of mind she would have deemed 
 it a sin had she mentioned to Sabina the sub- 
 ject which had thus worried her. " It is quite 
 enough," thought she, *' that I should virtually 
 insult the kindest of men by dwelling so ab- 
 surdly upon a word, which after all, perhaps, 
 I misunderstood. It certainly is not necessary 
 that I should give his acts and words into the
 
 176 HARGRAVE. 
 
 hands of his daughter, in order that they 
 may undergo the same undutiful process." 
 And accordingly they parted for the night 
 with much less of perfect sympathy than 
 usual. For Sabina's head was running upon 
 snow-white robes, anticipated good looks, 
 and a multitude of other agreeable thoughts, 
 which made her totally unobservant of the 
 heavy, absent look of her sister — or, if she 
 saw it at all, it was only with the conviction 
 that the late hours of the night before had 
 made her sleepy. 
 
 In some degree, perhaps, this conjecture 
 was correct, for it was late before the bright 
 April sun awoke Adele ; and when it did, 
 though it was not long before the prevailing 
 thought of the preceding night recurred to her, 
 it came less painfully. Sunshine and morning 
 air are the finest specifics in the world against 
 moody musings ; and before the gay breakfast 
 was over, and the three ladies decided as to 
 wliat shop they should first honour with their 
 presence, the golden treasure of the drawer
 
 HARGRAVE. 177 
 
 had very nearly melted into thin air, and 
 Adele, like lier companion, began thinking 
 about rich fabrics and becoming forms. 
 
 Beautiful young ladies are, generally speak- 
 ing, considerably less difficult in the choice of 
 their suits than ladies less young and less 
 beautiful. Adele and Sabina found, in what 
 Madame de Hautrivage thought a wonderfully 
 hurried manner, the pink and the white so 
 accurately described by Mr. Hargrave, and 
 their purchases were immediately made. A 
 large and beautiful assortment of " fancy 
 goods," as they are technically termed, has, 
 unquestionably, and beyond the power of 
 honest denial, a decided tendency to occupy 
 the female mind, and withdraw it, for a time 
 at least, from mightier matters. And so it 
 was with our beautiful Adele ; for, despite her 
 interesting misunderstanding with the young 
 Englishman, — nay, despite, too, the teasing, 
 puzzling thoughts which had been so lately 
 tormenting her, she was as much present to 
 the rainbow show before her as her more 
 light-hearted sister ; and it was only when at 
 i2
 
 178 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the same moment they both drew out their 
 purses, in order to pay for their purchases, 
 that the sight of the English gold so far brought 
 them back as to make her slightly sigh as she 
 looked at it. 
 
 ^'' Ah ! . . . des sovereigns, mesdames?'* 
 said the shop-keeper. ** We can only allow 
 twenty-five francs, ladies ; for the trouble of 
 changing them is fully worth the difference." 
 
 *' Very well," said Adele, laying down the 
 necessary sum ; "paira." 
 
 ** What could induce my brother to take 
 cash in this troublesome coin ?" said Madame 
 de Hautrivage. 
 
 ** National partiality, I suppose," replied 
 Sabina, laughing. 
 
 ''National partiality!" inwardly repeated 
 Adele. "To be sure it is! He thought 
 Madame would laugh at him if he confessed 
 that he had taken so many sovereigns, which 
 must be decidedly less convenient than the 
 coin of the country. Dearest papa ! It was 
 only a sort of joke then after all ! " 
 
 Perfectly satisfied by this interpretation,
 
 HARGRAVE. 179 
 
 Adele's spirits rose in exact proportion to their 
 former depression ; and the remainder of that 
 morning's important business was performed 
 with equally gay animation and enjoyment by 
 them all-
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Whether accident or skill most favoured 
 Mr. Hargrave when he was particularly de- 
 sirous of giving an entertainment, perfect in 
 every point, it might be difficult to say ; but 
 no person, fortunate enough to have made one 
 at any party thus sedulously cared for by him, 
 could possibly deny that his success upon all 
 such occasions was ever brilliant and ever 
 unfailing. 
 
 On the day when he had the honour of re- 
 ceivins: Prince Frederic of ******* to dine 
 w^ith him, Aladdin's lamp could hardly have 
 furnished a more perfect entertainment. Tliat 
 it was in one respect a failure in the opinion of 
 poor Adele cannot, however, be denied ; for 
 Alfred Coventry was not of it. But as the
 
 HARGRAVE. 181 
 
 repeated inquiries made at his hotel always 
 received for answer that he was not returned 
 to Paris, the sorrow occasioned by his absence 
 had no admixture of despair in it ; for even 
 AdMe herself never doubted that she should 
 see him again in a few days ; and in this hope 
 she shook off, as far as might be, the feeling of 
 disappointment which his absence occasioned 
 her, and very amiably exerted herself to the 
 utmost to enliven the conversation of the small 
 circle permitted to share the honour of the 
 royal guest's companionship. 
 
 The Due de Vermont and his beautiful 
 Duchesse were the only strangers admitted, 
 making a party of but seven persons round a 
 table glittering with gold and crystal, blazing 
 with lights, and fragrant with successive viands 
 of the most exquisite recherche and variety. 
 But the table was a round one ; and though 
 large enough, perhaps, to accommodate a 
 dozen, lent itself gracefully to the less crowded 
 occupation of the select few who now sur- 
 rounded it. Ad^le thought that if Coventry 
 had been there, the party would have been
 
 182 HARGRAVE. 
 
 perfect, and every one else thought it perfect 
 as it was. The Prince, though still a very 
 young man, had already become weary of the 
 stately entertainments to which alone, in the 
 common course of things, it was his destiny to 
 be invited, and enjoyed exceedingly the con- 
 trast which this delicious little banquet afforded. 
 Though he certainly admired the delicate Sa- 
 bina beyond all the other beauties of the 
 Parisian paradise, he was far from being in- 
 sensible to the sparkling loveliness of Made- 
 moiselle de Cordillac, or to the gorgeous, 
 sultana-like attraction of the graceful Duchess. 
 Neither was he at all incapable of appreciating 
 the conversational ability and perfect tact of 
 Mr. Hargrave, the truly French vivacity of the 
 Duke, or the rare and exquisite quality of the 
 wines which inspired it. In short, and to ex- 
 press the whole result in one single emphatic 
 word, the Prince was pleased. 
 
 And, in truth, however strong might be the 
 internal emotions of thankfulness and joy 
 which swelled the bosom of Mr. Hargrave at 
 perceiving this, there was nothing very sur-
 
 HARGRAVE. 183 
 
 prising in it ; for there really were abundant 
 elements for the pleasant passing away of an 
 hour or two, unless the royal young man had 
 had within himself some antidote to social en- 
 joyment, which most assuredly was not the 
 case. And then, every body else was so evi- 
 dently delighted when they looked at and 
 listened to him, that nothing short of a most 
 vilely churlish temper could have prevented 
 his testifying some amiable feelings in return ; 
 and as all that could be wished for in this way 
 sparkled in his eyes, smiled on his lips and 
 dropped in words of polished courtesy or play- 
 ful ease from his tongue, it cannot be won- 
 dered at if all the little circle were delighted 
 as well as the accomplished host. 
 
 Many royal personages seem to have dis- 
 covered that music is one of the few enjoyments 
 bestowed upon human beings by all-bounteous 
 Heaven, which comes to them unvitiated by 
 the pomps and vanities of their illustrious 
 position ; and they often appear to value it 
 accordingly. Prince Frederic was one of 
 these ; and it was well known to all the world.
 
 184 HARGRAVE. 
 
 who knew any thing, that there was no grati- 
 fication which seemed to give his Royal High- 
 ness such unequivocal dehght as listening to 
 the inspired harmonies of the best composers, 
 who breathed upon his ear by that choicest of 
 musical instruments, the human voice divine — 
 provided that the organ thus employed in 
 his service was not a French organ ; for the 
 criand tone of which he had conceived an ab- 
 horrence, that alone, of all the feelings of 
 which he appeared susceptible, shewed itself 
 strong enough to conquer the habitual re- 
 straint of politeness, for since his arrival in 
 Paris he had never been known to sit out the 
 vocal performance of any native. 
 
 Fortunately, neither Adele nor Sabina were 
 musical exhibitionists, though the latter was 
 no bad performer ; and the family vanity, 
 therefore, was in no degree wounded by its 
 having been decided in the Committee for 
 Ways and Means to furnish amusement for 
 this royal visit (which had sat for the despatch 
 of business as soon as the invitation was ac- 
 cepted), that Grisi, Lablache, and Tamburini,
 
 HARGRAVE. , 185 
 
 were to be put in requisition for the occasion, 
 instead of having recourse to Parisian talent, 
 either public or domestic. 
 
 The cafe, chesse cafe, albums, annuals, and 
 miniatures had each and all done the duties 
 required of them towards speeding the flight 
 of time for the first hour after dinner ; 
 the light and laughing tone, engendered by 
 good-humour and champagne, was just fading 
 into something less animated, and Mr. Har- 
 grave had cast one single anxious glance 
 towards the alabaster time-piece, when the 
 outer door of the suite was thrown open and 
 the above-mentioned constellation announced. 
 
 "Possible!" exclaimed the Prince, with a 
 countenance expressive of the most unequi- 
 vocal satisfaction, adding in a half whisper to 
 Sabina, beside whom he was seated, "There 
 is no one in Paris, mademoiselle, who under- 
 stands how to arrange an entertainment like 
 monsieur voire phe.^^ 
 
 Sabina had never before conversed with 
 Prince Frederic otherwise than by that safe 
 and ordinary mode to which young ladies
 
 186 HARGRAVE. 
 
 should always confine themselves, unless they 
 wish to express more than they choose to say ; 
 but at that moment such a feeling of gratitude 
 and delight seized upon Sabina, that her eyes 
 spoke her thanks much more eloquently than 
 any words could have done, and so sweetly, 
 innocently beautiful, did she look the while, 
 that the poor Prince felt for the first time 
 that there was danger near him. He behaved 
 incomparably well, however: for though he 
 vehemently longed to say to her, " You are the 
 very loveliest creature that ever Nature made!" 
 he did no such thing ; but smuggling away a 
 sigh under the disguise of a short cough, reso- 
 lutely left his place, and advanced to offer his 
 princely homage to the harmonious triumvi- 
 rate. 
 
 Who is there that has not felt, on one side 
 the Channel or the other, the ineffable en- 
 chantment which these three Italian magicians 
 have the power of throwing over the senses ? 
 So few, that it can be scarcely necessarj^ to 
 observe that Mr. Hargrave could not possibly 
 have hit upon any expedient so likely to de-
 
 HARGRAVE. 187 
 
 tach the thoughts of the Prince from his 
 daughter, as well as from every thing else in 
 the world, as by setting them to sing at him, 
 for three hours together, with little interrup- 
 tion beyond what proceeded from the entry of 
 ices, and such little interludes of conversation 
 with the performers themselves as the gracious 
 Prince deemed necessary, in order that they 
 might be made aware of the exquisite pleasure 
 they were bestowing, and thus become sharers 
 in it themselves. 
 
 The anxious host watched the operation of 
 his costly entertainment from beginning to end 
 with the most acute and undeviating atten- 
 tion, and there were moments in the course of 
 it during which he almost lamented the having 
 had recourse to any other enchantment than 
 that of his lovely Sabina, who certainly did 
 appear to him, and perhaps really was, more 
 touchingly beautiful on that evening than he 
 had ever seen her before. In fact, she had 
 never before enjoyed any hours so completely. 
 Her love of music was as strong as that of the
 
 188 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Prince himself, and perhaps even more fas- 
 tidious. She always declared her own per- 
 formance too bad to endure, though in fact it 
 was better by many degrees than that of 
 ninety-nine out of a hundred of the amateur 
 pretenders to the divine science. But what 
 with her exigeante delicacy of ear, and a tem- 
 perament leading her greatly to prefer ease to 
 labour, the luxury enjoyed at the Italian 
 Opera was so greatly beyond any she could 
 procure for herself, that she rarely played at 
 all, excepting when quite alone ; and then it 
 was rather with the capricious uncertainty of 
 the iEolian harp, which sends forth its sweet 
 sounds in voluptuous wantonness, than with 
 the studious laboriousness of science. Had 
 she been brought up a very poor, instead of a 
 very rich girl, it would have been otherwise ; 
 for rather than not have had good music at all, 
 there can be no doubt that she would have 
 contrived to obtain it for herself. But it was 
 quite sufficient for her to have her own corner 
 in her own box at the Italian Opera, and there
 
 HARGRAVE. 189 
 
 it was her wont to lose herself in sweet uncon- 
 scious reverie, her senses " lapped in Elysium," 
 and her shapeless, unsettled thoughts careering 
 away vastly beyond the reach of common sense, 
 but generally into regions of poetry, peopled 
 with beatific visions, all exceedingly unlike 
 the full-dressed realities around her. All this 
 had happened to her often, and had decidedly 
 furnished the greatest enjoyment of her young 
 life ; but the magic witchery of scenic repre- 
 sentation, with all its adventitious aids of 
 orchestra and so forth, had always, in some 
 degree, divided her attention, or at any rate 
 left her with the persuasion that her enjoy- 
 ment was produced by the united charm of all 
 she saw and all she heard. But now, when 
 Grisi first raised her voice, almost unaccom- 
 panied, and ran up to the very top of her 
 compass, and then sunk into the plaintive 
 sweetness of a nightingale that serenades the 
 moon, she could hardly help exclaiming 
 
 " Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
 Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?" 
 
 and remembering the sort of dreary delight
 
 190 HARGRAVE. 
 
 this same voice had so often given her hefore, 
 when it had 
 
 " Lulled the sense, 
 And in sweet madness robbed it of itself ;" 
 
 to add (which she might have done in very 
 soher truth) that 
 
 " Such a sacred and home-felt delight, 
 Such sober certainty of waking bliss. 
 She had never felt till now." 
 
 It was easy enough to perceive that, of all the 
 little party thus exquisitely regaled, there was 
 but one beside herself who felt it as she did ; 
 and it is vain to deny that, as she observed 
 this, she felt that there was pleasure — sTeat 
 pleasure, in listening to music with any body 
 who loved it as well as one did oneself. 
 
 The last trio had been asked for by the 
 Prince, and performed as if the three wondrous 
 voices had not sounded a single note before ; 
 and then the professors retired, leaving the 
 hero of the fete with a feeling of having tasted 
 more perfect enjoyment than any entertain- 
 ment had afforded him since his arrival in 
 Paris. He, too, rose to take leave, and ex-
 
 HARGBAVE. 191 
 
 tending his hand to Mr. Hargrave, thanked him 
 for the pleasure he had afforded him with a 
 degree of sincerity which rarely accompanies 
 similar words. 
 
 "Your Royal Highness makes metoo happy," 
 returned the delighted host, with truth equally 
 rare ; " but let me beseech your Royal High- 
 ness not to leave my humble roof without 
 partaking of the refreshment prepared in the 
 little salon there. It is impossible, I believe, 
 to listen to the music with the enthusiasm 
 which you, mon prince^ appear to feel, without 
 experiencing somewhat of fatigue and exhaus- 
 tion. Will your Royal Highness permit us to 
 follow you to the next room ?" 
 
 By no means displeased with the proposition, 
 Prince Frederic nodded a smiling assent, and 
 immediately offered his arm to Sabina. Was 
 it because he remembered that she was the 
 daughter of his host, and- that her eldest 
 sister was not ? Of was it because the tempta- 
 tion was too strong to be resisted, and that 
 he really could not help it ? 
 
 Mr. Hargrave was perfectly right. Fatigue 
 and a feeling of exhaustion are inevitable upon
 
 192 HARGRAVE. 
 
 attending to any thing earnestly for three hours. 
 It was half-past one o'clock, and the supper 
 was the very perfection of a French supper — 
 which means, that though as light in appear- 
 ance and as tastefully ornamented as a banquet 
 on the stage, it had, nevertheless, such a por- 
 tion of real comestibles amongst its prettiness 
 as courageous people venture to address them- 
 selves to when they are hungry, let the hour 
 be what it may. It is exactly for such a repast 
 as this that champagne seems invented, and 
 such champagne as Mr. Hargrave's the Due 
 de Vermont declared must have been made on 
 purpose for the beautiful lips now invited to 
 sip it. On himself its effect was exactly 
 what his watchful entertainer would have de- 
 sired. His gay spirits mounted and effervesced 
 as brightly as the sparkling beverage he 
 quaffed, occupying and delighting every one, 
 save only Prince Frederic of #***=^** and 
 the fair young creature at his side. 
 
 With what feelings Mr. Hargrave watched 
 this exception to the laughing hilarity of the 
 little party could be guessed by none unac- 
 quainted with the inmost secrets of his soul ;
 
 HARGRAVE. 193 
 
 and as for the repository of these secrets, 
 he had never chosen any confidant : save 
 himself alone, none could guess the ecstasy 
 of that hour. Sabina, too, now shevred for 
 the first time that as she listened to the Prince 
 the distance of rank w^as forgotten and nothing 
 remembered but himself. Had the delight 
 vphich the observing this occasioned to her 
 father been caused by believing that the union, 
 vv'hich he now fancied was within his grasp, 
 would lead to her happiness as much as to his 
 own, much might have been forgiven him. 
 But it was not so. He saw in it nothing but 
 an additional charm whereby to work upon 
 the passions of the youthful Prince, and watched 
 it with no better feeling than that with which 
 a spider may be supposed to watch the subtle 
 complexity of the web that is twisting itself 
 about the unwary insect who has approached 
 it. Hargrave felt sympathy with no human 
 being but himself — not even with his lovely 
 and most loving child, and deserved not 
 that any should feel sympathy with him. 
 At length the evening closed, and the guests 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 HARGRAVE. 
 
 departed, no two of the small company feeling 
 in the least degree alike on the subject of the 
 entertainment they had shared. Madame de 
 Hautrivage was simply abimte with fatigue, 
 and yawned till her jaws were very nearly dis- 
 located as soon as the royal and noble guests 
 were beyond the reach of seeing or hearing 
 her. The Due de Vermont, — who, since the 
 Prince had ceased to listen to the feu de joie 
 of witty words with which he had enlivened 
 the meeting, had devoted himself to Adele, — 
 had nearly yawned too, as he perceived how 
 entirely la belle demoiselle, who he feared was 
 tant soit peu Agnes, was thinking of something 
 else. The beautiful Duchess roused her hus- 
 band from his sleepy fit as they drove home 
 by her exclamations of envy and astonishment 
 at the enormous wealth of the English. " Mn'is 
 quils sont hete,'' she added, " apres tout. What 
 Frenchman would have given an entertain- 
 ment that must have cost at least three thou- 
 sand francs, and then set down four women 
 and three men to partake of it? Quelle hevue 
 ridicule r Adele was indeed so unmindful of
 
 HARGRAVE. 195 
 
 all that was going on, that she would have been 
 greatly puzzled to give any account of the day 
 when it was over. Sabina — the pure-minded, 
 innoceut Sabina — had been so very, very 
 happy, that all criticism upon the winged 
 hours, and all judgment upon any thing that 
 had passed in the course of them, were swal- 
 lowed up in a general conviction that her dear 
 papa was the most delightful man in the world 
 for knowing, as the Prince said, so much 
 better than any body else how to arrange a 
 delightful party ! 
 
 And the Prince himself — the hero of this 
 deeply-studied /e^e — what did he think of it? 
 His only objection to it was, that he was con- 
 scious of having found it too agreeable. *' There 
 is danger in such hours," thought he, as he 
 turned restlessly on his pillow. " That deli- 
 cate angel is too good, too fair, too fascinating, 
 to approach with impunity. We must have 
 no more small dinner-parties at Monsieur 
 Hargrave's!"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Adele de Cordillac had endured with 
 more than ordinary philosophy the deep dis- 
 appointment occasioned by the absence of 
 Alfred Coventry at the dinner which has been 
 just described ; but not all her resolution could 
 prevent her sister's perceiving, when they met 
 the following morning, that she looked both 
 ill and unhappy. 
 
 At no time would Sabina have been unob- 
 servant of this, for no attachment could be 
 more perfect or more tender than that by 
 which the half-sisters were united : but now 
 the feeling produced by it was peculiarly 
 strong ; for, in the first place, Sabina herself 
 had never in her life felt so happy as she did
 
 HARGRAVE. 197 
 
 that morning. The two girls seemed to have 
 changed characters, like the Olivia and Sophia 
 of Goldsmith, and the gaiety of Adele to have 
 passed into the heart of Sabina, while in re- 
 turn she had received the gentle meekness of 
 her less animated sister. 
 
 ** What ails you, dearest?" said the younger, 
 kneeling upon the cushion at her sister's feet, 
 caressingly taking both her hands, and raising 
 her beautiful blue eyes to her face with an ex- 
 pression half playful, half tender. *' I will not 
 have you look so woe-begone ! I thought that 
 such a day as yesterday must do you good, 
 and almost make you forget the absence of 
 Coventry. Was not the day delightful, 
 Adhler 
 
 *' Not to me, dear love," replied AdMe, 
 gravely, and with a movement of her head 
 that seemed to indicate many disparaging 
 thoughts concerning it. 
 
 ** What can you mean, Adt^le ?" said Sabina, 
 starting up, her delicate colour heightened, at 
 the very least, to the third shade of a moss-rose 
 that goes on blushing crescendo to the centre.
 
 198 HARGRAVE. 
 
 '* Dear child !" returned Adele, mournfully, 
 " I am in no fit state to lecture you — for truly 
 I feel that I well deserve lecturing myself ; 
 but if you will have the truth, I must tell you 
 that in my well-intentioned efforts to forget 
 the absent, I looked on with more than usual 
 
 attention on what was present, and " 
 
 But here she stopped. 
 
 *^ And what, Adele?" demanded Sabina, 
 her complexion assimilating nearer and nearer 
 to the centre of the rose. 
 
 '* I fear you will be very angry with me ! 
 Yet you would not, could you understand me 
 fully, for then you would see that I hold you 
 blameless as an angel," said Adele, colouring 
 in her turn. " But I do think, Sabina, that 
 Prince Frederic is very nearly, if not quite, in 
 love with you." 
 
 '* That is not like you, sister Adele," said 
 Sabina, sitting down with a look of deep 
 vexation. " I know not what you have seen 
 in Prince Frederic of =*=****** which can 
 justify your making such an observation. We 
 need not tell each other — you and I, I
 
 HARGRAVE. 199 
 
 mean, — that love from him to me must be an 
 insult. And what has he ever said or done to 
 deserve such a suspicion 1 " 
 
 *' Nothing, Sabina, nothing ! — that is, there 
 is nothing to deserve the suspicion that he 
 would offer you an insult ; which, as you most 
 truly say, any mention of love from him to 
 you must be. But there is much to make 
 me fear, rather for his sake than for yours, 
 Sabina, that he admires you more and more 
 every time you meet ; and that it is terribly 
 likely, without any act of the will, that it may 
 end by his becoming most devotedly and un- 
 happily attached to you." 
 
 *' And pray, sister, do you think I am likely 
 to become most devotedly and painfully attached 
 to him r 
 
 *' No, dearest Sabina, I do not. With so 
 excellent an understanding as yours, and 
 principles of the quality which I know yours 
 to be, there can be no cause for such fear. 
 But this young Prince " 
 
 " Forgive me, Adele, for interrupting you," 
 replied Sabina, with vivacity ; " but you must
 
 200 HARGRAVE. 
 
 permit me to say that this young Prince, as 
 you call him, has never, for a single instant, 
 given us any right to suspect that his principles 
 are of worse quality than our own ; or that 
 his princedom, or his youth either, need he 
 pleaded in extenuation of any thing he has 
 ever done or said. Let none of your fears, 
 therefore, be directed towards him, Adele. 
 x\s for myself, I will not sit in judgment on 
 the wisdom of having felt all the admiration 
 for him of which I was conscious yesterday ; 
 but, believe me, there is no danger of my 
 forgetting that 
 
 ' It were all one 
 That I should love a bright particular star, 
 And think to wed it ; he is so above me, ' 
 
 I know all this, dear sister, as well as you 
 could possibly wish me to know it, — and let 
 that suffice you/' 
 
 " It shall — it shall, dearest : but do not turn 
 away as if you were vexed with me, Sabina. 
 I am very ready to helieve that the uneasy 
 fancies which have been floating about my
 
 HARGRAVE. 201 
 
 silly head have no wiser origin than my own 
 low spirits. Sabina, I am very miserable." 
 
 " My dearest Adele ! and I have been cross 
 to you !" returned the penitent Sabina. ^' Oh, 
 forgive me ; and yesterday, then, while I was 
 gayer and happier than I ever remember to 
 have felt before, you were pining for the 
 absence of Alfred Coventry." 
 
 " Less for his absence," replied Adele, burst- 
 ing into tears, " than for the cause of it. I 
 cannot forgive myself," she continued, " for 
 having listened to any thing such a person 
 as my aunt could say, in preference to trusting 
 to what I myself know of his character. He 
 would not have so treated me, Sabina : 
 and when I recall his manner to me on the 
 fatal night of that detestable ball, and the 
 number of times I insultingly evaded his ear- 
 nest — oh! so evidently earnest wish to speak 
 to me, I lose all confidence in the hope of 
 his return, and feel irresistibly persuaded that 
 he has left Paris to return to it no more. Am 
 I not punished for my contemptible jealousy 
 and pride ? " 
 
 k2
 
 202 HARGRAVE. 
 
 " What makes you think that he would take 
 so very strong a measure ?" demanded Sabina. 
 *' Surely, if he believed that you had blamed or 
 suspected him unjustly, his best method of 
 proving this would not be the flying off from 
 Paris, post haste, in this way ?" 
 
 " No, no, it is not that ; I gave him not 
 the slightest clue by which to discover the 
 senseless jest which had been played upon 
 us. What he must believe, Sabina, is that 
 I am the most heartless coquette that ever 
 France produced. Every hour that I spend 
 in recalling all that has passed between us 
 makes me feel more strongly the odious light 
 in which I must appear to him. No one can 
 judge of this so well as I can do, Sabina ; and. 
 indeed — indeed, I think that his only course 
 was to turn away from me for ever, — and 
 that he has done so I can doubt no longer." 
 
 " My dear Adele, I cannot but think such a 
 persuasion is premature : at any rate before 
 ve receive it, let us send to his hotel to know 
 whether his return is still expected there ; whe- 
 ther he has left servants, horses, or carriages
 
 HARGRAVE. 203 
 
 behind him ; and, in short, find out, — as most 
 certainly it must be very easy to do, — whether 
 he has finally taken his departure or not." 
 
 "Sabina, I would give my right hand to 
 do it!" returned Adele. " But the means, 
 dearest? I cannot ask papa to despatch a 
 servant with such strangely curious inquiries, 
 and still less can I do it myself!" 
 
 '^ What say you, Adele, to our sending old 
 Roger, confidentially, upon this expedition? 
 Is there any thing within the reach of possi- 
 bility, think you, that the dear old man would 
 refuse to do for us ? " 
 
 " But even to old Roger I shall feel ashamed 
 to betray the deep interest I feel in this mes- 
 sage ; yet, unless I do so, what chance is there 
 that he will execute it effectually ? " 
 
 " None whatever," replied Sabina, laugh- 
 ing. " If Roger fancies that he is sent trotting 
 to the Rue di Rivoli upon any business that 
 an ordinary domestic could execute, the em- 
 bassy will be very unprofitably performed, 
 depend upon it. You know perfectly well 
 that the act of traversing one of your magni-
 
 204 HARGRAVE. 
 
 ficent bridges appears to him an enterprise 
 only second to setting off for Pekin. There- 
 fore be assured, that without a motive pro- 
 portionably strong, he will set about it very 
 reluctantly, and perform it vilely ; but only 
 just let him suspect that he could render you 
 an important service, Adele, and one, too, with 
 which none other of the household could be 
 trusted, and the only difficulty remaining will 
 be to make his venerable body keep pace with 
 his eager soul." 
 
 "You plead eloquently, my sister, and most 
 convincingly, " replied ^Mademoiselle de Cor- 
 dillac. " But must I then," she continued, 
 ''shew forth all the secrets of my heart to 
 the worthy Roger, and tell him in good set 
 terms that I am very heartily in love, and am 
 in need of his good services to bring my 
 wandering lover back again ?" 
 
 " Upon my word, my dear, I fear you 
 must, or we shall make nothing of him. 
 You cannot fear his breathing a single 
 syllable of any thing you say to him in 
 confidence? I am convinced that he would
 
 HARGRAVE. 205 
 
 consent to be torn to atoms rather than suffer 
 any human being to share the trust so con- 
 fided in him." 
 
 " I know it, — I know it, Sabina! No, I have 
 no fears of dear old Roger. Only it is rather 
 disagreeable to send any page on such a 
 mission. But it shall be done, my dear, bold 
 counsellor. I have paid enough for my pride's 
 sake, and now I will make the offending rebel 
 smart a little." 
 
 So saying, Adele de Cordillac deliberately 
 rose and rang the bell. *' Send Roger to 
 me," she said to the servant who answered 
 it : and the old man stood before her, smiling, 
 and well pleased to be summoned to her pre- 
 sence, considerably before she had determined 
 how to explain her singular mission to him. 
 
 "This is a glory and a pleasure to me, 
 ladies," said the delighted old man. " God 
 bless your sweet young faces! Is there any 
 thing to be done in which I can be useful?" 
 
 "Indeed there is, Roger," replied Adele, 
 taking courage, and determined that her em- 
 bassy should not fail from her averseness to
 
 206 HARGRAVE. 
 
 explaining it. " We know that we can trust 
 you, Roger, with any secret, and what I am 
 going to say to you now must be for ever kept 
 from all others." 
 
 " Miss Adele," replied the old man, 
 earnestly, *' the only great pleasure that I 
 think God could now give me in this world 
 would be finding out that I had the power 
 of doing either my beloved master or your 
 dear young sister some real service ; except, 
 indeed, the seeing that you are not afraid to 
 trust me." 
 
 ** God bless you, old friend," returned 
 Adele, affectionately; "you shall judge then 
 if I am afraid to trust you." 
 
 She then explained to him at some length, 
 and with perfect clearness, the mauvais tour 
 which Madame de Hautrivage had played her, 
 and all the painful consequences which ensued 
 from it; adding, " But for this, my good old 
 friend, I do in troth believe that I should 
 now have been affianced to this gentleman. 
 Go, then, good Roger, and discover for me 
 if Mr. Coventry is expected to return, or
 
 HARGRAVE. 207 
 
 whether the people of the hotel believe that he 
 has left Paris altogether." 
 
 It was quite evident that the honest man 
 perfectly understood his commission, and no 
 less so that, if his zeal in the cause could 
 avail, it would not have been given to him 
 in vain. 
 
 While this important business was trans- 
 acted in the boudoir of the young ladies, 
 affairs of at least equal moment were going 
 forward in Mr. Hargrave's library. He had 
 retired thither immediately after breakfast, 
 chiefly with the intention, perhaps, of quietly 
 enjoying in review the honours and success 
 of the previous day. Never before had he 
 felt so delightfully assured that all he wished 
 was near. He had often, as he smilingly told 
 himself, observed unequivocal admiration and 
 the most marked attention on the part of 
 Prince Frederic to his daughter, but never 
 till the last night had any expression of jDosi- 
 tive tenderness beamed from his royal eyes 
 as he gazed upon her. His beautiful daughter, 
 too, — that sweet epitome of his own grace and
 
 208 HARGRAVE. 
 
 elegance, — could she have kindled as she did, 
 while listening to the low-toned conversation 
 poured into her willing ear, had no mixture 
 of wooing sweetness lurked in it? Triumph- 
 ant was the answer that his very soul received 
 as he asked himself this question ; and his 
 reverie changed from contemplation of the 
 past to the most intoxicating anticipations for 
 the future. He seemed to feel upon his heav- 
 ing breast the delicious weight of stars and 
 crosses of orders innumerable. Sweet sounds 
 murmured in his ears as of whispering throngs 
 of nobles, whose words, being interpreted, were 
 '* See ! that graceful, noble gentleman is the 
 father of the Princess Frederic!" Long suites 
 of gorgeous rooms opened in a palpable vista 
 before him, and among them his heart told 
 him he should find his home. *' Ay»" he 
 murmured softly, stretching himself on the 
 sofa, whereon he had thrown his *' graceful 
 length of limb," in order to indulge these 
 ineditations, — "Ay, there will be my resting- 
 place, and without the cursed — cursed neces- 
 sity of seeking means to pay for it I — Oh,
 
 HARGRAVE. 209 
 
 blessed chance ! Just at the very hour when 
 all resources fail me — all! — just at that 
 frightful hour to open upon a mine of glorious 
 state and costless luxury, which shall wait 
 upon me to the last hour of ray existence, 
 without a single racking thought, by day or 
 night, as to how it is supplied !" 
 
 Exactly at the moment when Mr. Hargrave 
 had reached this climax of hope, the knock 
 of an intruder was heard at the library door. 
 " Come in," he said gently, and without greatly 
 changing his position, for he doubted not that 
 he should see, when the door opened, the 
 lovely form of his daughter, which he had ever 
 admired as being a softened copy of his own 
 majestic beauty, but which he now felt ready 
 to kneel before and worship, as the source 
 of all the golden joys which he saw before 
 him. 
 
 The revulsion of feeling produced by the 
 disappointment which followed was really 
 terrible. Instead of Ad Me and Sabina, whom 
 he expected to see enter, the slowly opening 
 door admitted the form he most hated to be-
 
 210 HARGRAVE. 
 
 hold, namely, that of his house-steward, who 
 had long been in the habit of receiving all 
 his bills, and of very punctually paying them 
 as long as his elegant master had punctually 
 furnished him with means. 
 
 After the first shock, however, occasioned 
 by the contrast between what he saw and 
 what he expected to see, Mr. Hargrave re- 
 covered himself; for he did not at that mo- 
 ment anticipate any particularly pressing 
 claims upon him. A few weeks before, in- 
 deed, this same unwelcome individual had 
 painted with such hateful accuracy the inevit- 
 able consequence of continuing any longer 
 the system of paying in promises instead of 
 francs, that Hargrave's buoyant and bold 
 spirit had almost sunk before it ; but he had 
 not only rallied, but by some way or other 
 found means to satisfy, or stop, the claims 
 which had very nearly overwhelmed him ; and 
 he now felt very tolerably secure that, for the 
 present at least, his extravagant establishment 
 might go on without any danger of immediate 
 consequences, and shew forth, as he hoped,
 
 HARGRAVE. 211 
 
 the same brilliant surface of wealth to the 
 public, till the marriage of Sabina should 
 render it no longer necessary. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had the prospective 
 father-in-law of a royal prince looked in the 
 face of his steward, than his heart misgave 
 him; for he saw symptoms there of the same 
 gloom and anxiety which had been so recently 
 removed by efforts to which Mr. Hargrave 
 was well aware he could not, for many reasons, 
 resort again, 
 
 '' What is the matter now, Jenkyns?" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Hargrave, suddenly springing 
 from the sofa : " you look as if every ounce 
 of plate I have in the world had been stolen. 
 For God's sake explain the meaning of your 
 doleful visage instantly ! " 
 
 "It is easy enough to do that, sir," replied 
 the man, who had led a very easy life while 
 the resources of his lavish master lasted, and 
 was as little disposed as his principal to wit- 
 ness the end of so brilliant a career. " I only 
 wish I was sure that it would be as easy to 
 cure the mischief as to explain it."
 
 212 HARGRAVE. 
 
 " What the devil do you mean, Jenkyns?" 
 demanded his master, turning very pale ; for 
 thoughts of a possible danger shot through 
 his brain, considerably more appalling than 
 any which had gone before. 
 
 " The old story, sir," replied the steward, 
 knitting his brows, and shaking his head 
 very significantly. 
 
 " Hoh ! " exclaimed Hargrave with such a 
 heavy *' suspiration of forced breath" as seemed 
 to denote a feeling of relief. " But you can 
 surely skirmish with them a little longer, 
 Jenkyns ? I thought you told me that the 
 money I have lately given you — in pretty 
 tolerable abundance, God knows — would 
 suffice to keep the people quiet, and ready to 
 go on for some months to come ? " 
 
 " And I answered for no more than was 
 true, sir," returned Jenkyns. " The trades- 
 people are all in high good-humour again, 
 and I don't expect we shall hear any more 
 grumbling. Somehow or other they had 
 taken fright, but your coming down, sir, so 
 freely with ready money again has set all
 
 HARGRAVE. 213 
 
 that right, and I dare say we shall hear no 
 more of their bills till towards the end of the 
 season." 
 
 " Then why, in Heaven's name, my good 
 fellow, do you look so confoundedly dismal ? " 
 said Mr. Hargrave, gaily turning on his heel, 
 and looking in the mirror over the chimney 
 for a more agreeable object than the puckered 
 visage of the old steward. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, you have forgot all about 
 Monsieur Jules Marsan. You know, sir, that 
 just before your good lady died, you borrowed 
 a hundred and fifty thousand francs of him — 
 at terrible high interest, to be sure — but it 
 was but a trifle, and it could be of no great 
 consequence in our large way of going on ; 
 and, therefore, when he came into my bureau 
 this morning, looking as black as thunder, I 
 went on sipping my tea, as easy as may be, 
 thinking that the little matter of interest in 
 arrear, which couldn't be above six or seven 
 thousand francs, might easily be settled. 
 However, I soon found out that we were not 
 to be let ofiP so easy ; for that he was come to
 
 214 HARGRAVE. 
 
 insist upon having his principal hack again 
 forthwith, which he swears you promised to 
 pay on demand any time after two years from 
 the date of the loan ; and that he wrote to 
 remind you of this, and to give you notice 
 that he wanted the money: to which letter 
 he declares you have given no answer what- 
 ever. And this it is, I suspect, which has 
 made him so savage ; for he swears lustily 
 that he will have the money in his pocket, or 
 you in a gaol, before the week is out." 
 
 *' I declare to you, by the honour of a 
 gentleman, Mr. Jenkyns, that I have never 
 seen any such letter," replied Mr. Hargrave, 
 with great dignity ; *' and I desire that you 
 will let him know this without loss of time ; 
 assuring him, likewise, that if he will only 
 indulge me now with the same notice he in- 
 tended to give when he wrote, his money shall 
 be punctually paid him." 
 
 ** And how long, I wonder, would that give 
 for finding the money?" said the steward, 
 giving a furtive glance at his handsome mas- 
 ter, who had again turned to recruit his
 
 HARGRAVE. 21^ 
 
 spirits by looking at himself in his favourite 
 mirror. 
 
 *' A month, Jenkyns," replied Mr. Har- 
 grave; " and that will suit me perfectly well." 
 
 " And, I dare say, that will suit him too," 
 replied the well-paid servant, taking his de- 
 parture without giving any hint of having 
 discovered how very lightly the honour of his 
 elegant master had been pledged. 
 
 Unpleasant as this very urgent claim must 
 have been at any other moment, it now only 
 acted as a spur upon the already excited 
 temper of Hargrave ; and he immediately set 
 to work to invent some new and reasonable 
 excuse for again inviting the Prince to his 
 house ; satisfied that a very little more op- 
 portunity for fostering the passion he had 
 conceived, was all that was required to bring 
 on a declaration of it. 
 
 While thus engaged, he was again inter- 
 rupted ; but this time it was by nothing more 
 annoying than his verbose sister-in-law. This 
 accomplished Frenchwoman was in many 
 ways extremely useful to him ; and he received
 
 216 HARGRAVE. 
 
 her now, as he was always accustomed to do, 
 with a most courteous welcome. 
 
 " Ah, fa!" she exclaimed: " I find you 
 alone, my brother — that is well, for I have 
 business to discuss with you." 
 
 " Ehf bien ! ma sceur^*' returned the gentle- 
 man. " What is it?" 
 
 '* 31ais — you shall hear. I have been 
 making a visit of consolation to Madame de 
 Tours. You know her husband is just ordered 
 to Africa. Eh, hien ! she could not talk of 
 that, she could talk of nothing but the dia- 
 monds of Madame Bertrand, the rich banker's 
 newly-married wife. Madame de Tours as- 
 sures me positively that she has been taken 
 at the Opera for the Inflmta of Spain — by 
 somebody, of course, who did not know the 
 Infanta's person — for they say that Madame 
 Bertrand is an extremely pretty young woman, 
 and that she is to be the beauty, par excellence, 
 for the remainder of the season. All Paris is 
 wild to see her and her diamonds. On dit, 
 that she is absolutely covered with them from 
 head to foot — literally from head 'to foot!
 
 HARGRAVE. 217 
 
 Tmaginez ! — nothing is so macli the fashion 
 as to invite her. Et voila mon affair, I want 
 our cards to be sent instantly, together with 
 an invitation to 2t.fete. You have always been 
 the first in every thing, and I would not have 
 you the last in this : comprenez - vous, mon 
 frlreV 
 
 Mr. Hargrave assured her that nothing 
 could at any time be so agreeable to him as 
 complying with her wishes ; and that, a propos 
 of the subject on which she had been so kind 
 as to express them now, her feelings and opi- 
 nions were precisely his own. 
 
 "J. la honne heure r exclaimed the animated 
 lady, springing from her chair with the playful 
 grace of sixteen ; " vraiment, mon cher — maisy 
 vraiment, vous etes divin! — Allons done. When 
 shall it be ? Do not fix a distant day, lest all 
 the world shall have been before you." 
 
 ** What say you, dear lady, to this day 
 week?" said Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 *' Nothing can be better," she replied. 
 " Sans adieu, done, I go to consult uos 
 demoiselles on their dresses ;" and Madame de 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Hautrivage, kissing the tips of her fingers, 
 tripped away. 
 
 Here then was another opportunity for 
 Prince Frederic ! Having, as usual, made 
 out a list of the company he wished to invite, 
 for the use of the person whose office it was 
 to send forth invitations, Mr. Hargrave him- 
 self addressed a note of homage to the Prince, 
 in which he alluded, with graceful playfulness, 
 to the Paris whim of hunting all novelties. 
 Each family, he said, considered it a duty 
 which they owed to society, to catch the short- 
 lived wonder for a night, and, holding it in 
 soft bondage, to exhibit it for the amusement 
 of their friends and acquaintance. In per- 
 formance of which modish rite he was going, 
 he added, to request the elite of the beau 
 monde to assemble in his drawing-rooms on 
 the 19th, for the purpose of looking at a 
 certain beautiful Madame Bertrand, who ap- 
 peared at the present moment to be the centre 
 of all attraction. Could his Royal Highness 
 condescend to turn his eyes for an hour or two 
 in the same direction as the multitude turned
 
 HARGRAVE. 219 
 
 theirs ? If this might be hoped for ! &:c. 
 &;c. (fee. 
 
 " When honours come, thej come not single spies, 
 But in battalions." 
 
 Not only did Prince Frederic accept this 
 invitation, and that, too, by a few gracious 
 lines written by his own royal hand ; but in 
 his turn he invited Mr. Hargrave and the 
 ladies of his family to favour him with their 
 presence at a fancy-ball, for which he was 
 about to send out invitations for the 1st of 
 May. 
 
 This written document seemed to complete 
 the process of Mr. Hargrave's infatuation. 
 There was not a word in it but he turned 
 and twisted till it became to his fancy a so- 
 lemn assurance of all he wished ; and, had 
 every other line failed to furnish the desired 
 interpretation, that in which his royal cor- 
 respondent so clearly stated that no one else 
 in all Paris was as yet invited to the projected 
 fete, would have perfectly sufficed. This 
 fancy-ball, then, was given for Sabina ! Did 
 she decline the invitation, it was clear as
 
 2'20 HARGRAVE. 
 
 light that the whole thing would fall to the 
 ground. This princely entertainment was to 
 afford the royal lover the opportunity of de- 
 claring his passion. It was no new device. 
 Such arrangements had been often heard of 
 before. When king's sons married from love, 
 and not from policy, it was not likely they 
 would lose the dear joy of witnessing the 
 emotion their generous devotion must cause in 
 the fair object of it, — it was not likely they 
 would ceremoniously demand consent of 
 friends, and so forth. " No ! " murmured 
 the thrice happy Hargrave ; " I have not lived 
 so long in the very centre and heart of society 
 without learning to interpret the signs and 
 tokens belonging to it. Sabina is the elected 
 wife of a prince, and I am destined to stand 
 in the position of brother to a king! — And 
 poor Jenkyns thought to scare me by talking 
 of a pressing claim for a few thousand pounds ! 
 What a whimsical incongruity it seems ! " And 
 Mr. Hargrave laughed — laughed heartily at 
 the jest he saw in it ; and then sat down again 
 at his elegant ecritoire, and composed an ac-
 
 HARGRAVE. 221 
 
 ceptance of Prince Frederic's invitation, with 
 as mucli eloquence as it was possible to throw 
 upon the subject. 
 
 That the unfortunate Hargrave, despite the 
 savoir vivre on which he so greatly piqued 
 himself, was most egregiously mistaken in all 
 these calculations, is most certain ; neverthe- 
 less, his daughter Sabina was in truth the 
 origin and cause of Prince Frederic's fancy- 
 ball : nor had she appeared at all less lovely 
 in his eyes on the evening they had last passed 
 together than her ambitious father supposed. 
 But the result of his admiration, as well as 
 the motive for his giving this ftte, were as far 
 as was well possible from what his inflated 
 imagination conceived. 
 
 Prince Frederic, through many a bright 
 gala, had danced and talked with the beau- 
 tiful Sabina without a serious thought beyond 
 what was necessary to decide his opinion that 
 she was the loveliest blossom of the bright 
 parterre which (by the help of exotics) a Pa- 
 risian salon of the first class is sure to display. 
 Many were the balls, concerts, and operas,
 
 222 HARGRAVE. 
 
 which had passed over them before he became 
 in the least degree conscious of any change 
 of sentiment towards her ; but, of late, he had 
 begun to be a little aware that he liked 
 better to talk than even to waltz with her. 
 He felt that it was a pity to lose the expres- 
 sion of her marvellously sweet eyes when she 
 looked timidly in his face as he spoke to her. 
 He acknowledged to himself, — without, how- 
 ever, much thinking that it signified, — that 
 Sabina Hargrave was not only the fairest girl 
 in Paris, but, to the best of his knowledge 
 and belief, the purest, gentlest, most intel- 
 lectual lady in the world : and, soon after 
 this, the thought struck him that it was a 
 pity she was not of a royal house. But still 
 he was in no way alarmed ; feeling con- 
 vinced, as many a good man has done before 
 him, that he was master of his will, if not 
 of his wishes, and that, while he remained so, 
 there could be no danger of any kind in 
 the intercourse. 
 
 It was on the Evening of ]Mr. Hargrave's 
 dinner-party, that this noble-minded scion of
 
 HARGRAVE. 223 
 
 a royal stock first became aware of his own 
 danger; and perhaps, also, that it was not 
 impossible there might be danger for Sabina 
 too. 
 
 It is " de notoritte hourgeoise'' that, in the 
 intercourse between gentlemen who are royal 
 and ladies who are not so, the perfectly well- 
 conducted of the fair sex, particularly if they 
 are young and beautiful, take more especial 
 care to be discreet in words and looks than 
 on any other occasion ; the consequence of 
 which is, that these illustrious sons of kings 
 rarely catch a beam of unquenched feeling 
 from the eyes of the most charming, because 
 the purest of human beings : and it was pro- 
 bably for this reason, that when Sabina, for 
 an instant forgetting his rank, looked up in 
 the face of Prince Frederic with unre- 
 strained gratitude and delight, upon his pay- 
 ing a compliment to her father, it seemed 
 to him that he had never before seen any 
 thing so exquisitely beautiful as her coun- 
 tenance ; and he might have exclaimed, like
 
 224 HARGRAVE. 
 
 the eighth Henry, though in a far different 
 spirit, — 
 
 " Oh, Beauty ! 
 Till now I never knew thee." 
 
 '' Oh ! how those eyes could speak !" thought 
 the stricken young man, *' if one but dared 
 to question them!" But, to his honour be 
 it said, not once again in the whole course 
 of that delightful evening, — not even during 
 the gay hour of unreflecting enjoyment which 
 followed the exhilarating supper, did Prince 
 Frederic seek to fix the glance of that innocent 
 eye upon his own, or attempt in any way to 
 make her understand how deeply he was 
 touched by her loveliness. Had he felt less, 
 perhaps, he might have been less cautious 
 to conceal that little than he now was to 
 hide, to struggle with, and overcome, what 
 he felt was strongr enouo*!! to fricrhten him. 
 
 Before he left his apartments on the fol- 
 lowing morning his resolution was taken, 
 and his plans perfectly settled and arranged.
 
 HARGRAVE. 225 
 
 He wrote to a noble friend in London, an- 
 nouncing his intention of immediately pro- 
 secuting his scheme of travel by proceed- 
 ing to that capital, and requesting him to 
 bespeak suitable apartments, to be ready for 
 him in a fortnight. He then summoned the 
 principal employe of his suite, gave him no- 
 tice of his intended change of residence, and 
 informed him, likewise, that it was his pur- 
 pose, before he left Paris, to give an enter- 
 tainment on a scale suitable to his rank, the 
 preparations for which he desired might be 
 set about without delay. 
 
 l2
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 To Adele, the absence of old Roger seemed 
 interminable ; and even Sabina, though she 
 was thinking a little of other things, con- 
 fessed that she could not guess what he could 
 possibly be about so long. At last, however, 
 like other tedious things, his absence ended ; 
 and just as Adele was proposing that they 
 should tell their father how very long he had 
 been out, and request that some active mea- 
 sures mio:ht be resorted to for discovering: 
 what was become of him, the old man made 
 his appearance, a little out of breath, he said, 
 by the activity he had used, but, in all other 
 respects, in a state of the highest preservation 
 and safety.
 
 HARGRAVE. 227 
 
 "And your news, Roger?" said Sabina, 
 perceiving that Adele appeared more desirous 
 of hearing than of asking for it. 
 
 " Not over good, my dear children, — not 
 over good," he replied, shaking his head. 
 
 Adele turned very pale, but spoke not a 
 word. 
 
 " Speak out and tell all," said Sabina ; 
 " but do not keep us in suspense." 
 
 The privileged old man looked earnestly in 
 the half- averted face of poor Adele, and 
 replied,— 
 
 " Not for the world, my dears ; but it 
 is rather a long story, if I am to tell you 
 all of it." 
 
 " Sit down, old friend," said Sabina, placing 
 a chair for him ; *' and fear not that we 
 shall think the history too long ; for, trust 
 me, we would not have you omit a word 
 of it." 
 
 Adele gave her young sister a very grate- 
 ful look, and prepared to listen. 
 
 " In the first place," resumed Roger, " and 
 to give the result of my commission before
 
 228 HARGRAVE. 
 
 I go on to any thing else, I must tell you, 
 ladies, that the young gentleman is not in 
 Paris, nor has been, since he left it the day 
 after our last great ball.'' 
 
 *' There is no bad news in that, Adele," 
 observed Sabina, cheerfully. Adele nodded 
 in acquiescence of the remark, and changed 
 her position, so as to see the countenance 
 of her faithful messenger. 
 
 " No, that is all very well, my dears, but 
 the worst is to come." And then, bestowing 
 a good deal more tediousness than was ab- 
 solutely necessary, Roger Humphries pro- 
 ceeded to relate, that upon asking for Mr. 
 Coventry's people at the hotel, a very 
 decent servant-like body, and altogether an 
 Englishman, came to him, and told him not 
 only what he had just repeated, but also that 
 his master was expected to return in a few 
 days, but probably for a few hours only, as 
 he had sent orders for every thing he had 
 left at the hotel to be packed up in readiness 
 to start as soon as he came back. *' Now 
 this I should have been sorry for," said the
 
 HARGRAVE. 229 
 
 worthy Roger, *' even if he had said no more; 
 because it was plain enough to me, that you 
 had rather he was not going away quite so 
 soon, my dears. But it was what he said 
 after that made me think the news so very 
 bad ; for he spoke of him, to be sure, as 
 if he was altogether out of the common way 
 of ordinary young gentlemen nowadays .... 
 Such a son! — such a brother! — and such a 
 fortune ! And so you see, my dear child- 
 ren, it could hardly help coming into my 
 head that he would be just exactly the very 
 husband for one of you two. Think what 
 it would be, — I ask your pardon, Miss 
 Adele, — but just think what it would be 
 if either of you was to marry a Frenchman ! 
 It would be the death of me, — I am quite 
 sure it would be the death of me. Not that 
 I ought to mention such a reason as that, — 
 for what's my dying or living compared to 
 your having husbands like ? Lord have mercy 
 upon me ! I needn't name names ; — and you, 
 both of you, used as you are to such a gentle- 
 man as my master, — you would take to
 
 230 HARGRAVE. 
 
 hating him, ladies, in a month, — you would 
 indeed. And, take my word for it, that's 
 a very bad thing, and leads to mischief, as 
 sure as can be. But it is little use to talk 
 about this Mr. Coventry any more, I suppose ; 
 unless, indeed, you thought there would be 
 any good in my stepping over again, just 
 when he comes back, maybe, and giving 
 him a hint that you would just like to say 
 good-by to him before he goes. It takes 
 a long while sometimes before young folks 
 get to the end of saying good-by." 
 
 At length, to the great relief of Sabina, 
 Roger concluded his harangue, and wiped his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Thank you, Roger Humphries, — thank you 
 kindly," she said. '* Go now, old friend, and 
 get some refreshment ; you look heated and 
 weary, Roger. Should we think you could 
 help us further, we shall be sure to call for 
 you." 
 
 The old man uttered his usual fervent " Bless 
 you! — bless you both!" and departed ; leav- 
 ing both the poor girls discouraged and dis-
 
 HARGRAVE. 231 
 
 comfited, and pretty equally convinced that 
 but little chance remained of ever seeing 
 Alfred Coventry more. 
 
 It was now, and now only, that the un- 
 fortunate Adele de Cordillac became aware 
 of the misery which the absurdity of her un- 
 venerable aunt had brought upon her ; for 
 it was now only that she was fully aware 
 how wholly she had bestowed upon Coventry 
 the affection of her heart. She spoke not, 
 but she wept bitterly ; and not the less so 
 from the conviction that she had used him 
 ill. The genuine worth and unmistakable 
 nobleness of heart, which she had had suffi- 
 cient opportunity of observing, ought, as she 
 felt but too plainly, to have saved him from 
 such hasty condemnation ; and every sad 
 moment of meditation on the past only 
 brought with it the strengthened conviction 
 that she had been loved, and was loved no 
 longer. 
 
 In this state of mind it was fortunate for 
 her that she had stolen away to her own 
 room, that she might weep, unperceived even
 
 232 HARGRAVE. 
 
 by her gentle and sympathising sister, before 
 Mr. Hargrave entered the boudoir, all radiant 
 and glorious with the intelligence he brought 
 of two more balls, of which Prince Frederic 
 was to be the hero. Certain it is that his 
 news was not listened to now by an indifferent 
 ear ; and it was with a delightful beating of 
 the heart, which almost answered to her own, 
 that her father witnessed the beautiful flush 
 which mounted to her cheeks as he spoke. 
 But much too wise to let her perceive he 
 noticed it, he turned from her with an air 
 of affected business and bustle, saying, — 
 *' Where is Adele? — where is your sister, my 
 dear child ? I particularly wish that you 
 should both of you prepare your toilets for 
 these occasions with more than usual care. 
 At the fke given by the Priuce, my dear 
 Sabina, this is especially necessary ; as, you 
 may depend upon it, every lady of any dis- 
 tinction in Paris will make a point of appear- 
 ing in the most costly and elegant costume 
 she can devise. It is a compliment which his 
 Royal Highness well deserves from all, in
 
 HARGRAVE. 233 
 
 return for the g-racious affability with which 
 he has entered into the amusements of the 
 society ; and to us, in particular, his con- 
 descending kindness has been so remarkable 
 that any omission on our parts would be 
 unpardonable." 
 
 "It is you, papa, who must invent our 
 fancy-dresses," said Sabina, rather desirous of 
 turning the conversation from the Prince to 
 a subject so absorbing as that of dresses for 
 a fancy-ball. *' I am quite sure," she added, 
 " that neither Adele nor I shall be able to do 
 any thing without you." 
 
 ** You shall not need, dearest," replied the 
 happy Hargrave. *' No man of taste would 
 desire a more agreeable employment than 
 draping two such pretty lay figures as your- 
 self and Adele. But, above all things, m}' 
 love, we must keep in mind the important dis- 
 tinction between a fancy-ball and a masque- 
 rade. Nothing which I at this moment re- 
 member strikes me as so offensively mauvais 
 ton as confounding them. In a masquerade- 
 dress, — in the by-gone days when ladies were
 
 234 HARGRAVE. 
 
 permitted so to amuse themselves, — the per- 
 fection of a costume consisted in the learned 
 accuracy with which every circumstance of 
 time, station, and personal peculiarity in the 
 character represented, was seized ; whether 
 becoming or unbecoming, whether elegant or 
 precisely the reverse, a masquerading dress, to 
 be approved by persons of real taste, must be 
 strictly and severely historical, and nothing 
 else. But at a fancy-ball, thank Heaven ! the 
 case is wholly different. The first object is to 
 ascertain what age and what country furnishes 
 the style most accordant to the form and fea- 
 tures, and then all the skill of the artist em- 
 ployed must be directed to modify, heighten, 
 or soften, the effect of the costume chosen, 
 with the most studious attention to what be- 
 comes the individual, and utter disregard to 
 every thing else. In short, my dear child, 
 what is learning at a masquerade becomes 
 pedantry at a fancy-ball ; and you know me 
 well enough to comprehend how I should 
 shrink from such an imputation. These are 
 the broad principles upon which our conduct
 
 HARGRAVE. 235 
 
 in this affair must be based; and, these esta- 
 blished, we run little or no risk of failure. 
 Your style of beauty is so singularly pictu- 
 resque, my sweet Sabina, that it would be 
 more difficult to fail than to succeed in pro- 
 ducing the effect desired. What say you to 
 an Eastern dress, my love? White and gold, 
 — simply white and gold, — arranged in the 
 picturesque style usually attributed to Circas- 
 sian slaves when transplanted to Constanti- 
 nople, would become you well, I think." 
 
 ** Then such shall be my dress, papa," re- 
 plied Sabina ; " your first thoughts are always 
 brilliant. And Adele, — what shall our pretty 
 Adele wear?" 
 
 " Spanish; those magnificent eyes of hers 
 are decidedly Spanish. But her dress, like 
 your own, dearest, must not be too correct. 
 The general outline may be in your case East- 
 ern, and in hers Castilian ; but the detail must 
 be French. I will make a slight sketch of 
 both before your hour for shopping to-morrow, 
 and that, with the assistance of Madame Oc- 
 tavia, will remove all anxiety. But there is
 
 236 HARGRAVE. 
 
 one thing, my dear love, that I wish to observe 
 to you. It is rather mauvais ton, my Sabina, 
 to run about, purse in hand, to other people's 
 tradesmen. Not, of course, that your paying 
 ready money can be any inconvenience to me ; 
 on the contrary, indeed, I think it always saves 
 trouble. But that is not an advantage which 
 can come for a moment into competition with 
 the consideration of what is bon ton and what 
 is not; therefore, Sabina, I wish you to pro- 
 cure every thing at the magasins where you 
 have been chiefly accustomed to deal, and 
 order your bills to be sent in, as other ladies 
 of fashion do. You understand, my love ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, papa, I believe so. I am not to 
 carry my purse, and pay ready money — like 
 the little girls going to market for a sous- 
 worth of oseille — that is what you mean, is 
 it not?" 
 
 "Exactly!" replied her father, laughing 
 heartily at her lively illustration. " And now, 
 dearest, I must leave you ; for, as you may 
 imagine, my habit of giving my own instruc- 
 tions to my maitre d' hotel renders such an
 
 HARGRAVE. 237 
 
 entertainment as I intend to give Madame 
 Bertrand a matter of business as well as plea- 
 sure. But go and find Adele ; tell her of 
 these two engagements, and also that, before 
 mid-day to-morrow, I will prepare for her a 
 little sketch of the style of dress which I pro- 
 pose for her to wear at Prince Frederic's 
 fker 
 
 Mr. Hargrave then, with a heart buoyant 
 with hope, and a brow devoid of every trace of 
 care, impressed a kiss upon his daughter's 
 cheek, and left her.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 • Mr. Hargrave was just putting, on the 
 following morning, the finishing touch to his 
 elegant little drawing of Adele's costume (that 
 of Sabina, as well as one of his own gorgeous 
 Russian uniform, having been completed to 
 his heart's content an hour before), when a 
 timid and rather sinister-sounding knock at 
 the door of the library disturbed the pleasant 
 careerings of his fancy, and obliged him to 
 say, "Come in." 
 
 It was slowly, and as if with reluctance, 
 that the door opened, and presented to his 
 view, not only the careful face of INIr. Jenkyns, 
 which was what he expected to see, but also 
 the dark lines of a sharply-featured and stern 
 countenance behind him, which, afler a few
 
 HARGRAVE. 239 
 
 seconds of harassing uncertainty, Mr. Har- 
 grave recognised as belonging to his creditor, 
 Jules Marsan. 
 
 The slight frown which had begun to settle 
 on his handsome brow at the sight of his kill- 
 joy Jenkyns, was in an instant changed into a 
 smile of the very kindest suavity, as he rose 
 and stepped forward to meet this man. 
 
 M. Jules Marsan moved a little on one side, 
 as if to avoid the hand that was extended to 
 salute him; and fixing his dark, deep-set eye 
 full on the countenance of his debtor, said, — 
 
 '* This person tells me that you deny having 
 received the letter of notice which I addressed 
 to you, demanding payment (according to 
 agreement) of the 150,000 francs which you 
 owe me." 
 
 ** He tells you nothing but the truth, my 
 dear sir," replied Mr. Hargrave, in a tone of 
 polite indifference. ** I question not the least 
 in the world your having sent such a letter, 
 and of course I expect you, my dear sir, to 
 believe as readily that I never received it.
 
 240 HARGRAVE. 
 
 The fact is, M. Marsan, that my life is spent 
 so constantly among persons whose rank en- 
 titles them to command my presence when- 
 ever they wish for it, that I have positively 
 little or no time left me for attention to my 
 own concerns. I cannot, however, doubt that 
 the message which I did myself the honour of 
 addressing to you by my steward has been 
 satisfactory, and that the settling this little 
 pecuniary transaction at one month from the 
 present time will in all ways suit your con- 
 venience." 
 
 " No, sir, it will not," replied the thin- 
 visaged Frenchman. " If you have not re- 
 ceived my letter, which was intended to ac- 
 commodate you by giving a month's notice 
 (not stipulated for in the agreement which I 
 hold under your own signature), so much the 
 worse for you. That letter was sent a month 
 ago, and I must have the money before this 
 day week, whether you have received that 
 letter or not." 
 
 ** But, my dear fellow," returned Hargrave,
 
 HARGRAVE. 241 
 
 gaily, " you cannot reasonably expect any 
 gentleman to have 150,000 francs always 
 ready at a moment's warning." 
 
 " It is not at a moment's warning," re- 
 turned Jules Marsan. " I still give you seven 
 days, which I think, — excuse me, sir, — is 
 considerably more than you have any right to 
 expect : but, beyond that, I will not give you 
 an hour. My resolution is taken ; and if you 
 are a wise man, M. Hargrave, yours will be 
 taken too before we part. It is no child's play 
 we are upon. My credit, and the credit of 
 my son, depend upon my having the money 
 you stand pledged to pay me by the time I 
 have named. If you fail me, I will at least 
 give public evidence that I had a right to 
 expect from you the sum I have undertaken 
 to pay. You told me again and again, sir, 
 that you could at any time repay this money 
 at five minutes' notice. I have, therefore, now 
 learned that your word is not to be trusted. 
 Do not fall into the error of believing that I 
 pledge mine as lightly, when I tell you that, 
 were you in the presence of the king himself, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 HARGRAVE. 
 
 I would arrest you at the very hour that the 
 week I have granted shall expire.'* 
 
 Mr. Hargrave got up and walked to the win- 
 dow. His complexion was perfectly ghastly ; 
 and conscious of sensations he wished not to 
 betray, he remained there for a few moments 
 to recover himself. Then, turning again to- 
 wards Marsan, with a countenance still pale, 
 but, considering all things, most astonishingly 
 under his command, he said, in the light 
 accent of easy nonchalance, — 
 
 " Come then, M. Marsan, if it must be so, 
 I will set about this troublesome business di- 
 rectly, and in good earnest. But, to be candid 
 with you, the fact is, that I have recently lost 
 some very considerable sums of ready money 
 at play, and I am by no means quite certain 
 of Deing able to get hold of the sum you re- 
 quire without longer notice." 
 
 " Excuse my interrupting you, sir," said 
 Marsan, " but it is better to tell you now than 
 later that no half measures will be acceded to 
 on my part. I have need — very pressing need 
 of the money you owe me, and have it 1 will,
 
 HARGRAVE. 243 
 
 though you should sell your plate and your 
 jewels at a tenth of their value to supply the 
 sum." 
 
 " Leave us alone for a few minutes, Jen- 
 kyns." said Mr. Hargrave. '' I do not wish 
 that my old and faithful servant should wit- 
 ness such a scene as this." 
 
 Hargrave, with all his faults, was affection- 
 ately beloved by his dependants, for he was 
 good-humoured, easy, and liberal ; and the 
 old steward, as he moved off in obedience to 
 this unexpected command, cast a glance of 
 pity on his master, which proved that, despite 
 the hard-drawn, money-making lines of his 
 wrinkled face, the old man was not altogether 
 unfeeling. But he started when he looked at 
 him, as if he had seen a ghost ; for the coun- 
 tenance of Mr. Hargrave was so deadly pale, 
 and so completely changed from its ordinary 
 expression, that the man thought he must be 
 seized with some sudden and desperate ma- 
 lady, and stopping short in his course towards 
 the door, he drew near his master, and said, — 
 
 " If you feel that this troublesome business
 
 244 HARGRAVE. 
 
 makes yon ill, sir, don't go on with it for any 
 body. Let me lead Monsieur Marsan back to 
 my bureau, and wait till you feel better." 
 
 ** Nonsense, Jenkyns," returned Mr. Har- 
 grave, endeavouring to smile with his usual 
 air of gay indifference. " Monsieur Marsan's 
 mode of settling accounts is certainly some- 
 what new to me, and it is likely enough that 
 I may feel a little discomposed by it ; but I 
 assure you I am perfectly well : so leave us, 
 my good fellow, and I will ring the bell twice 
 when I w^ant you." 
 
 Jenkyns left the room, and closed the door 
 behind him. Mr. Hargrave remained silent 
 for a minute, and then rising, walked to the 
 door, opened it, and looked out. The glance 
 satisfied him that there were no listeners near, 
 and gently closing it again, he resumed his 
 seat, and said, — 
 
 " I have dismissed my steward. Monsieur 
 Marsan, because your urgency drives me to 
 make you a proposition which nothing but 
 the apparent necessity of the case could induce 
 me to think of, and which I shall beg you not
 
 HARGRAVE. 245 
 
 to mention, as it betrays a pressure for money 
 which it would be injurious to me to make 
 known, and which, being only the result of 
 an accidental misfortune, will pass over, and 
 leave no inconvenience whatever behind, if it 
 be not made the subject of idle gossip. Now 
 hear me, Monsieur Marsan, and hear me 
 quietly, — you will not expedite the business 
 by interrupting me. To pay you the sum you 
 apply for in ready money, before the interval 
 of one month, is wholly and absolutely out of 
 my power. But this fact produces, as it should 
 seem, no effect whatever on the peremptory 
 tone of your demand. — Be satisfied, monsieur," 
 continued Hargrave, moving his hand to check 
 the interruption which seemed to threaten him, 
 " I have no intention whatever of pleading any 
 further for your forbearance. You speak of 
 the sale of my plate and jewels as the means 
 you shall resort to for obtaining what you 
 demand. You are quite right, sir. It is only 
 80, that, at the present moment, it can be satis- 
 fied. The time may come, perhaps, and that 
 very shortly, when you may feel inclined to
 
 246 HARGRAVE. 
 
 wish that your measures had been a little less 
 violent. But this matters not. Now hear me, 
 sir. Far from opposing your suggestion of 
 bringing such property to sale as can most 
 easily be converted into money, I will assist 
 you in this object to the very best of my 
 power. The magnificent jewels of my late 
 wife are in my possession, and are for the 
 most part unset, having been recently pulled 
 to pieces for the purpose of arranging them 
 anew for her daughters, one of whom is about 
 to contract an alliance which, I am happy to 
 say, will supply her with jewels, if what I can 
 give her should prove deficient. Such a por- 
 tion of these trinkets as shall fully answer 
 your demand shall be placed in your hands 
 by twelve o'clock at noon on this day week. 
 Will this content you?" 
 
 ** Why should they not be placed in my 
 hands directly?" said the Frenchman. " It 
 will take time to convert them into money, 
 and I have told you that money is necessary 
 to me." 
 
 " If my proposal does not content you, sir,"
 
 HARGRAVE. 247 
 
 said Mr. Hargrave, with dignity, ** I must 
 leave you to take your own methods for 
 recovering the debt. I can do no more." 
 
 '* Can I not have the jewels now?" de- 
 manded the anxious Jules Marsan. 
 
 " No, sir, you cannot," replied Mr. Har- 
 grave, in a tone of firm, but civil decision. 
 *' It will be necessary for me to shew these 
 articles to a jeweller, before I part with them ; 
 both for the purpose of taking an opinion as to 
 their value, and also having others made in 
 imitation of them. I must repeat, sir, that if 
 my placing them in your hands by noon on 
 this day week does not content you, I must 
 leave the business in your own hands." 
 
 "Are the stones diamonds?" demanded 
 Marsan. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave did not immediately reply. 
 He drew forth his pocket handkerchief, and 
 taking up a rich Bohemian flacon, deliberately 
 poured from it a quantity of eau de Cologne to 
 refresh himself, as it seemed, under the fatigue 
 of these lengthened details ; and then said, with 
 a good deal of hauteur y '* When you receive
 
 248 HARGRAVE. 
 
 them from me, sir, you will be at liberty to 
 examine them ; and should you afterwards 
 bring me any document, signed by a com- 
 petent and respectable authority, stating that 
 their value falls short of the sum required, I 
 will supply the deficiency. This, I presume, is 
 all that it can be necessary for me to say 
 respecting your part of the business. On 
 mine, I have one favour to request, which I 
 feel not the slightest doubt will be strictly 
 complied with on your part, as I truly believe 
 you, sir, to be a man of honour. I need not 
 point out to you the very obvious fact, that the 
 means to which my imprudence and ill luck 
 have driven me to resort, for the purpose of 
 immediately satisfying your just claim, are in 
 the highest degree painful to me. May I 
 request you. Monsieur Marsan, to pledge me 
 your word that you will not communicate to 
 any one the fact of your having received the 
 jewels from me ? I am firmly resolved never 
 to gamble more; and my property is of an 
 extent which will speedily enable me to make 
 such arrangements as will remove my present
 
 HARGRAVE. 249 
 
 deficiency of ready money. May I trust to 
 your honour and kindness for this important 
 concealment?" 
 
 " You may, sir," replied Marsan, with 
 more civility of manner than he had hitherto 
 thought proper to display. " I should be 
 sorry to do you or any gentleman an injury. 
 If your deposit fairly covers my just demand, 
 interest and principal, you shall hear no 
 more either of the debt or the manner of 
 its payment." 
 
 ** I thank you, M. Marsan," replied Har- 
 grave ; " I will take care not to err in my 
 estimate of what I am about to make over to 
 you in any way that shall exonerate you from 
 this promise." He then rose and rung the 
 bell twice ; the steward reappeared, and the 
 softened creditor rose to take his leave. Jen- 
 kyns looked earnestly in his master's face, but 
 said not a word. Hargrave smiled kindly 
 upon him, and nodding his head good hu- 
 mouredly, said in his ear as he passed out, " It 
 is all settled very pleasantly, Jenkyns. He has 
 behaved better than I expected. Say no more 
 m2
 
 250 HARGRAVE. 
 
 about the business to him, but offer him 
 refreshment, and speak civilly." 
 
 The greatly comforted old man silently 
 nodded in return, followed the retreating steps 
 of Monsieur Jules Marsan, and closed the 
 door, leaving his master once more alone to 
 the luxuries of his library and his meditations. 
 But it seemed as if the interruption had jarred 
 his nerves and put them out of tune ; for he 
 pushed from him the sketches upon which he 
 had previously been so delightfully employed 
 with a frown, and placing his arms upon the 
 table rested his head upon them for many 
 minutes without moving an inch. 
 
 Some princely vision, however, then re- 
 turned to him; once more he raised himself 
 with all his wonted elasticity of mind and 
 movement, and having completed, entirely to 
 his satisfaction, the drawing of Adele's dress, 
 he took it, together with that of Sabina, to the 
 boudoir of the two girls, and with his usual 
 gay and gallant manner laid it before them. 
 But although he appeared thus completely to 
 have recovered himself, Sabina, happy and
 
 HARGRAVE. 251 
 
 occupied as she was, remarked that he 
 looked ill. 
 
 " Dearest papa!" she said, '* you are too 
 good — too kind to us! You positively must 
 not fatigue yourself as you do about all our 
 whims. What lazy girls we are, Adele, to 
 throw all this upon papa ! Are not these 
 sketches beautiful ? But I must not have you 
 look so pale, papa — I cannot bear it." 
 
 *' My dear Sabina," he replied, while a 
 shade of temper, most unusual to him, passed 
 across his brow — " my dear Sabina, I do 
 beseech you to leave off telling me that I am 
 pale. Thank Heaven ! I never had a very 
 red complexion, my love ; and I do assure you 
 that I so detest the idea of it, that did I 
 perceive any symptoms of the kind, I should 
 instantly put myself under very severe dis- 
 cipline to correct it ; and if I must let you into 
 my confidence upon the subject, it is what I 
 actually have often done, and still do, when- 
 ever I have the slightest suspicion that it is 
 necessary. So never tease me by talking any 
 more about my being pale. Do not look as if
 
 252 HARGRAVE. 
 
 I was scolding you, dearest : but remember 
 this, will you?" 
 
 Sabina kissed him, promised to plague 
 him no more about his complexion, whis- 
 pered to Adele not to look so dismal, and 
 then sat herself down between them, and 
 chattered away so gaily about balls and cos- 
 tumes that it was impossible to resist the 
 contagion ; and both her companions appeared 
 to chat gaily too. 
 
 '^ But all this is concerning the Prince's 
 fttCy' said Mr. Hargrave ; " you have not said 
 a word, Sabina, about mine. So now, if you 
 please, let us talk a little of that. By the by, 
 I want you both to tell me something more 
 about this little Madame Bertrand, that we 
 are all making such a fuss about. What is 
 she like ? Is she pretty ?" 
 
 " Yes; extremely pretty, indeed! At least, 
 I suppose so : for M. Bertrand, who is im- 
 mensely rich, only married her for her beauty." 
 
 " And what are all these jewels, that they 
 talk about ? It is hardly likely — is it ? — that a 
 little nobody, married entirely for her beauty,
 
 HARGRAVE. 253 
 
 should have jewels worth making such a fuss 
 about. Have you heard any body mention 
 them besides your aunt Hautrivage?" asked 
 Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 " Good gracious, papa ! One hears of 
 nothing else," replied Sabina. " For my part, 
 I think I must beg you to permit my wearing 
 blinkers — I expect to be half-blinded by their 
 splendour. I am afraid to say how many 
 hundred thousand francs they are worth ; but 
 it is something perfectly astonishing." 
 
 " And pray is the lady supposed to be in 
 love with her magnificent husband ? " said her 
 father. 
 
 " Poor thing! I am afraid not," was the 
 reply. ** They say he is old and ugly." 
 
 *' Oh, ho ! that's the case, is it ? That 
 somewhat accounts for the diamonds. But, 
 by the way, how can one ever know in such 
 a case as this, but that the glittering baubles 
 may be false? All paste, Sabina, depend 
 upon it." 
 
 *' By your leave, no, papa. Every body but 
 you — who really seem to have shut your ears 
 against the most important news of the day —
 
 254 HARGRAVE. 
 
 every body but you, papa, knows perfectly well 
 that they were furnished by the first jeweller 
 in Vienna ; and a great many of the finest 
 diamonds are said to have belonged once to 
 Napoleon. I perfectly long to see them," said 
 Sabina. 
 
 To this girlish tirade Mr. Hargrave 
 returned no answer, and seemed indeed to 
 have suddenly turned his thoughts to some- 
 thing else ; for after a moment's silence a 
 heavy sigh escaped him. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, papa?" said 
 Adele, looking earnestly at him. '* If you 
 were a graver personage, I should say that 
 you were going, like Jacques, to moralise the 
 spectacle into a thousand similes. But do not 
 sigh about it. I must not," she added, " tell 
 you that you are looking pale, lest you should 
 chide me, as you did Sabina : but, upon my 
 word, I doubt your being quite well to-day ; 
 and you really ought to take care of yourself, 
 or the fancy-ball, and the diamonds, and 
 Madame Bertrand, and every thing else, will 
 all fall to the ground together, as far as we 
 are concerned."
 
 HARGRAVE. 255 
 
 *' Thank you, dear Adele," said Mr. Har- 
 grave, rising ; *^ but I do assure you, I never 
 was better in my life. I sat up reading Bal- 
 sac's new novel last night till I made my 
 head ache ; but it has very nearly left me, 
 and will do so entirely, I doubt not, after I 
 have had an hour's riding in the Bois de 
 Boulogne. But I must not make you waste 
 any more time. Have you ordered the car- 
 riage for your shopping?'* 
 
 The sisters assured him they had only 
 waited for his promised drawings, and that 
 they should set off with Madame de Hautrivage 
 immediately. 
 
 " Au revoir, then !" he replied, gaily kissing 
 his hand to them both ; "we shall meet at 
 dinner." And so saying he left them, with 
 every appearance of recovered health and 
 spirits.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 During the remaining days which inter- 
 vened before that fixed for Mr. Har^rave's 
 entertainment, no further symptoms, either of 
 languor or ill health, were perceptible in that 
 gentleman. Never before, indeed, completely 
 as ball-giving was his vocation, had he mani- 
 fested an equal degree of taste, ability, and 
 lively interest in all that was going on. No- 
 thing seemed to escape his attention that 
 could in any degree affect the general gorgeous 
 appearance of his magnificent apartments ; and 
 his chief object evidently was to produce such 
 novelty of arrangement in the management 
 of them as might strike even those who were 
 the most familiar with the locale^ as presenting 
 rooms which they had never seen before. In 
 this his success was so perfect, that when on
 
 HARGRAVE. 257 
 
 the evening before ihefete, all the alterations 
 of this kind being completed, and the rooms 
 lighted up, he had summoned the three ladies 
 of his family to accompany him in his review 
 of the whole, their genuine and unaffected 
 astonishment equalled their admiration. 
 
 The receiving apartments up-stairs vrere not 
 greatly changed, being for the most part 
 appropriated to the use of card-players ; but 
 in the rez~de-chaussee, the whole of which con- 
 sisted of what might be called state apartments, 
 his love of novelty and surprise had displayed 
 itself to great advantage. In the supper-rooms, 
 indeed, and in the two noble apartments 
 appropriated to dancing, no alteration had 
 been attempted beyond some trifling improve- 
 ments in the decorations of the orchestras; 
 but among the lesser rooms, and in part of the 
 garden enclosed at his last ball, the genius of 
 Mr. Hargrave appeared to have performed the 
 work of an enchanter. 
 
 He conducted the wandering trio through 
 meandering passages, which led — upholsterers 
 only' knew how — to tents of Eastern splendour 
 in one direction, and to twilight retreats of
 
 268 HARGRAVE. 
 
 flowery sweetness in another ; all managed 
 with such mastery of deception, that of three 
 apartments constructed in the gardens and 
 approached from the principal salle de baly 
 through the aperture of a banished window, 
 not one could be reached but by a complication 
 of arcades, dazzling with a thousand many- 
 coloured lamps, yet so mysteriously dubious 
 from the labyrinth-like caprice of their direc- 
 tion, that those who should seek the brilliant 
 Eastern tent would be likely enough to find 
 themselves in the shadowy bower of exotics ; 
 and eyes, longing for the soothing repose of 
 this dimly lighted retreat, might be dazzled 
 anew by emerging upon a lofty chamber, 
 where gas was made to do its best and its 
 worst, to blind and to enchant, by illuminating 
 the gaudy decorations of a Chinese saloon, 
 superb enough to have constituted the glory 
 of glories of the Celestial Empire. 
 
 ** I am lost, absolutely and literally lost!" 
 exclaimed Sabina, after attempting in vain to 
 recover the route which led to the pretty bo- 
 cage, whose gloom contrasted so beautifully 
 with tlie blaze of light which filled the other
 
 HARGRAVE. 259 
 
 rooms. " I do not mean that I am lost in 
 wonder — though there would be truth enough 
 in that too — but I have positively lost my way, 
 and know no more in what part of the mansion 
 I now am, than if I had never entered its doors 
 till this evening. I expect every moment to 
 come to some vista that shall give me a near 
 view of the Invalides, and feel perfectly per- 
 suaded that at your next fete you will inclose 
 the Champ de Mars by way of obtaining 
 another little ball-room. Prince Frederic is 
 quite right, papa : there is nobody in all 
 Paris to be compared to you." 
 
 '* Did the Prince say that, Sabina?" said 
 Mr. Hargrave, his colour rising and his eye 
 kindling with delight. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, he did, papa. He said so the 
 day he dined here apropos of the perfect recep- 
 tion you gave him. And, I confess, I did not 
 think he was very wrong then ; but now I am 
 quite sure he was right." 
 
 " I can only hope, my dear child, that upon 
 this less exclusive occasion I shall not lose 
 ground with him. I will not deny that I value 
 his approbation very highly, and it would vex
 
 260 HARGRAVE. 
 
 me a good deal if bis Royal Highness condemned 
 the sort of whimsical vagaries I have been 
 playing here. By the way, Sabina, I think 
 the best scheme to avoid my suffering from 
 such a disappointment will be for you to take 
 the office of guide and cicerone upon yourself. 
 I have now explained to you the sort of effect 
 I have wished to produce by this varied style 
 of decoration, and if you point it out to him 
 exactly in the same manner that I have done 
 to you, it will prevent the danger of his fancy- 
 ing that the whole thing has been arranged by 
 the upholsterers without my having conceived 
 any general design. Will you promise me, 
 my love, to do this ?" 
 
 *' I w^ill endeavour to do so, papa, if it is 
 your wish," replied Sabina, with some slight 
 degree of confusion in her manner; ** but I 
 think you would do it much better yourself." 
 
 ** But that, my dear, would be so exactly 
 like asking him to praise me for my taste 
 and ingenuity that it must not be thought of. 
 Of course, I do not mean to give you the 
 trouble of leading his Royal Highness every 
 where ; but if you can, without making any
 
 HARGRAVE. 261 
 
 obvious fuss about it, take care that he sees 
 the Turkish tent and the Chinese saloon, I 
 shall be pleased.'' 
 
 *' For my part," said Madame de Hautri- 
 vage, " I most decidedly give the preference 
 to that delicious bocage ! In what part of the 
 suite it is, I profess I have not the slightest 
 idea ; but, to my taste, it is worth all the 
 rest." 
 
 " I think it is pretty by way of a contrast," 
 replied Mr. Hargrave ; " but, to let you into a 
 secret, madame, I am afraid it is terribly 
 damp. I would have neither of you go there 
 after dancing upon any account. You must 
 all promise me this, or I shall be quite uneasy 
 about it." 
 
 " Mais, mon Dieu, oui /" exclaimed Madame 
 de Hautrivage. "If it is damp I will not 
 approach it for the universe. Oh Ciel / 
 imaginez ! moi, moi, avec une fluxion de poi- 
 trine ! Quelle horreur ! " 
 
 "And you, my dear children, will you both 
 promise to be as discreet as madame ? Will 
 you take care to avoid the bocage after 
 dancing?"
 
 262 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Both the girls promised obedience, and the 
 party returned to the library, which was almost 
 the only room that had not undergone a meta- 
 morphosis. 
 
 Poor Adele, during all this high-pressure 
 preparation for gaiety, struggled hard to pre- 
 vent any trace of what she felt from appearing 
 on her countenance ; but she suffered greatly. 
 The conviction that she had treated Alfred 
 Coventry ill, that her conduct had been regu- 
 lated by a jealousy at which common sense 
 revolted, and a want of honourable confidence 
 in an honourable man, which rendered her^ 
 unworthy of his esteem, gnawed at her very 
 heart, and produced a degree of unhappiness 
 which no misfortune, unaccompanied by self- 
 condemnation, could have brought upon her. 
 
 But more than one cause led her to confine 
 all this to her own aching bosom. She saw 
 Sabina infinitely more animated and more 
 disposed to kindle at the touch of pleasure 
 than she had ever been since the death of their 
 mother, and for the world she would not have 
 tarnished the brightness of the houi^s she was 
 now enjoying. The very lightness and appa-
 
 HARGRAVE. 263 
 
 rent frivolity of this enjoyment increased her 
 wish that it should not be disturbed, for had 
 there been any mixture of love in the feelings 
 which inspired her, the sinking heart of Adele 
 assured her that even if Sabina were happy she 
 could not be so very gay. 
 
 Another cause for the reserve in which she 
 wrapped herself was the deep consciousness 
 that her feelings were not understood, nor in 
 any degree appreciated, by her sister. In every 
 conversation they had held together on the 
 subject of Mr. Coventry's absence, Sabina had 
 treated the matter as a mere temporary misun- 
 derstanding, which, if Coventry were in earnest 
 (of which she had no doubt), would beyond 
 all question be removed at no very distant 
 period ; and she reprobated, with more vehe- 
 mence than she often bestowed on any subject, 
 the idea that her sister had been to blame. 
 *' If you, Ad^le, have been weak,'* she said, 
 " in too implicitly giving credence to the 
 point-blank assertion of Madame de Hautri- 
 vage, Mr. Coventry has at least been equally 
 so in taking an averted look as a signal for 
 leaving: for ever a woman that he loved."
 
 264 HARGRAVE. 
 
 But there was no comfort for Adele in this. 
 
 Her judgment of Alfred Coventry, cleared as 
 
 she now felt it to be of all illusion, was not to 
 
 be hood-winked by the wish of exonerating 
 
 herself from blame. The strong: attachment 
 
 for this young man, which had by degrees taken 
 
 such firm root in her bosom, arose from many 
 
 traits of character, not quite so uncommon, 
 
 perhaps, among his countrymen as among her 
 
 own. Adele de Cordillac was, nevertheless, 
 
 a very true-hearted Frenchwoman on many 
 
 points, and, like all other human beings of 
 
 high-toned feeling, loved the country that 
 
 gave her birth, and would have willingly 
 
 sacrificed much for its prosperity and its glory. 
 
 But her mother's second marriage had made 
 
 the language and literature of England as 
 
 familiar to her as her own, and it may be that 
 
 she felt a greater excitement of curiosity in 
 
 developing the character of a country to which 
 
 she did not belong, though accident had given 
 
 her a more than ordinary facility of becoming 
 
 acquainted with it, than she would have felt 
 
 under any other circumstances. But, be this 
 
 as it may, it is certain that Adele de Cordillac
 
 HARGRAVE. 265 
 
 had studied the national characteristics of 
 England, as they are found stamped upon her 
 powerful and varied literature, with a degree of 
 admiration which had well prepared her to 
 value at its worth such a specimen of their 
 living excellence as Alfred Coventry. 
 
 Many eligihle, and in one or two instances 
 even splendid, proposals of marriage had been 
 made for Adele ; but her complete independ- 
 ence had given her a power of rejection, which 
 she exercised with a degree of thankfulness for 
 the possession of it, of which no heart but her 
 own had been at all aware. But although 
 during the whole of this probation she had 
 walked 
 
 " In maiden meditation, fancy free," 
 
 presuming fancy to mean the ** soft passion of 
 love," she had ever the heau ideal of a possible 
 Englishman in her head, and, more firmly, 
 perhaps, than she was quite conscious of her- 
 self, was determined to give her heart to no 
 other. 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine how the events 
 of the last few weeks had brought all this 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 HARGRAVE. 
 
 speculative feeling into action, or how pro- 
 found the self-reproach with which she con- 
 templated the conduct which had destroyed 
 the reasonable hope of what had often appeared 
 to her imagination as something almost too 
 precious to be reasonably hoped for. 
 
 But all this sadness was deeply buried in 
 her heart, and she listened to all that was said, 
 and sometimes answered it too, with a degree 
 of outward tranquillity that might have done 
 
 some honour to a Spartan. 
 
 # # # # * 
 
 Once more the Rue de Lille was nearly 
 blockaded by the carriages which sought to 
 reach, or to retreat from, the lofty porte- 
 cochere of Mr. Hargrave's princely dwelling; — 
 once more the glittering panoply of the patrol 
 which regulated the reins and the whips of the 
 congregated coachmen, proclaimed to every 
 idle passenger the importance of the business 
 that was going on within it; — and once more 
 the elegant locataire gave smiling welcome to 
 all that w^as most brilliant in the society of 
 Paris. 
 
 The atmosphere of splendid and well-lighted
 
 HARGRAVE. 
 
 267 
 
 rooms, in which he acted as lord of the cere- 
 monies, was to Mr. Hargrave what the reviving 
 warmth of spring is to the vegetable world. 
 It seemed to breathe new life into him ; every 
 fibre appeared to dilate, every faded hue to be 
 renovated ; and the very essence and principle 
 of existence, which had before appeared to lie 
 dormant, burst forth with fresh vigour into 
 animation and activity. 
 
 Sabina looked at him with delight. Never 
 had she seen her father so gracefully gay, or 
 looking so pre-eminently handsome. Even 
 Adele was roused for a few moments to more 
 than a mere outward interest in the scene, as 
 she watched the dignified courtesy and polished 
 ease with which he received the wealthy M. 
 Bertrand, whom he had never in his life be- 
 held before, and his new-looking little wife, 
 laden with magnificent jewels, which seemed 
 to be brought thither much as a Tyrolese or 
 Bohemian musician brings his gaudy costume, 
 in proof and pledge that he is to be admitted, 
 however much all other circumstances in his 
 appearance might lead the beholders to suppose 
 the contrary. It was long since any salon in
 
 2G8 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Paris had thrown the splendour of its mimic 
 day upon gems reflecting them so brightly, and 
 having, moreover, the additional gloss of being 
 new in the eyes of all men. And strange did 
 it seem, to those who thought about it, that 
 any woman, — young and pretty enough to gain 
 favour amidst the rival beauties of a gu'ui- 
 guette, where she might have skipped about 
 at ease, — should prefer exhibiting those cosily 
 wares for the amusement of a throng of per- 
 fect strangers, who looked at her for no reason 
 in the world but that they might laugh at the 
 incongruity between herself and her dress. 
 Her husband, however, was neither so old nor 
 so ugly as the romance-loving Sabina had been 
 pleased to imagine ; nor was there any reason 
 whatever to suppose that they might not be as 
 fond a couple as had ever been joined together 
 in wedlock, had it not been that the gentleman 
 looked so exceedingly like a showman coming 
 into company to exhibit a puppet or a dancing- 
 dog, and the lady so nearly approaching in 
 awkward but obedient manoeuvriugs to the 
 chief pet and treasure of such an exhibitor, as 
 to suggest the idea that she was his property.
 
 HARGRAVE. 269 
 
 Yet, after all, this furnished no good grounds 
 for doubting their mutual affection : fondness 
 shews itself in a variety of ways ; and there is 
 no substantial reason fer denying that ex- 
 hibiting, and being exhibited, may be among 
 them. 
 
 Prince Frederic was by no means one of 
 the latest guests whose name was thundered 
 through the hall and ante-rooms ; and his 
 arrival, with the peculiarly condescending and 
 even friendly manner in which he addressed 
 Mr. Hargrave and his family, seemed to bring 
 the vivacity of the graceful host to its climax. 
 Carefully, however, did he guard against be- 
 stowing too much of himself upon this illus- 
 trious personage ; having, together with Ma- 
 dame de Hautrivage, marshalled him to the 
 place of honour in the principal ball-room, in 
 that accredited style of attendance which an- 
 nounces the dignity of a guest to the ignorant 
 as effectually as a herald proclaiming his titles 
 could do, he bowed himself to a distance, 
 leaving the royal young man to amuse him- 
 self in any manner that he might find best 
 suited to his inclination. This distance, how-
 
 270 HARGRAVE. 
 
 ever, was not so great as to prevent Mr. 
 Hargrave from taking note as to what manner 
 of amusement this might be; nor did he give 
 more than seeming attention to any thing 
 else, till he saw Prince Frederic lead Sabina 
 into the circle which was forming itself round 
 the room for a waltz. 
 
 No sooner had his satisfied eyes given notice 
 to his happy heart that all was right in that 
 quarter, than he turned all his attention to 
 Madame Bertrand. He soon discovered that 
 her husband was a whist-player ; and having 
 introduced him to three others, who would 
 all have rather taken root in their chairs than 
 have left them while another rubber might 
 be had, and assured him in the most amiable 
 manner that he should in person have the 
 great pleasure of doing the honours to his 
 lady, he devoted himself in the most con- 
 scientious manner to redeem his word, ap- 
 pearing unconscious, excepting at short in- 
 tervals, that any other lady was in the rooms ; 
 and leading her with devoted resolution to 
 join the dancers in the smaller ball-room, 
 though he was a most accomplished performer
 
 HARGRAVE. 271 
 
 himself, and felt all reasonable assurance that 
 the glittering danseuse he had chosen would 
 infallibly perform the evolutions of the waltz, 
 which unfortunately was the dance she pre- 
 ferred, with all the fascinating dexterity of an 
 ass in a mill. 
 
 Many who saw him thus engaged smiled 
 their admiration at him for his exemplary 
 hospitality ; others looked archly, in the belief 
 that he was making this enormous sacrifice 
 for the purpose of collecting traits of hour- 
 geoise character, with which to enliven his 
 discourse hereafter. Madame de Hautrivage 
 knit her brows, and thought he was overdoing 
 the thing altogether ; and Adele watched him 
 with most unfeigned astonishment as he con- 
 tinued again and again to lead her to the 
 dance, — sometimes in the great room, some- 
 times in the smaller one, but always with 
 such a display of devoted empressement as her 
 own excellent tact told her was not only un- 
 necessary, but very nearly ridiculous. Adele 
 was, in truth, precisely what the French mean 
 when they talk of being mystified. She was 
 puzzled, thrown out, and perfectly at a loss.
 
 272 HARGRAVE. 
 
 as to what motive to assign for so remarkable 
 a proceeding. In any other man it would 
 certainly have been much less so. However 
 much Mr. Hargrave might deceive either him- 
 self, or the world in general, upon other 
 points, there was no delusion as to the fact 
 of his Chesterfieldian studies having been 
 attended with the most perfect success; and 
 of this his fair step-daughter was so fully 
 aware, that while she watched his super- 
 abundant devotion to his plebeian guest, she 
 felt certain that it could proceed from no 
 blundering as to what was required of him, 
 but must arise from some motive — either 
 grave or gay — which she was unable to pe- 
 netrate. 
 
 Had she been in a merrier mood, it is pro- 
 bable that she would have endeavoured to 
 improve her understanding on the subject, by 
 making her way to her good-humoured step- 
 father and asking him, sans fa f on, why he paid 
 such very particular attention to little Madame 
 Bertrand ; but, having given the subject more 
 attention than she believed it possible she 
 could have given to any thing, it faded from
 
 HARGRAVE. 273 
 
 her memory like every thing else not con- 
 nected in some way or other with her cease- 
 less self- reproaches on the subject of Co- 
 ventry. 
 
 Delicacy, and proper feeling of all kind, 
 however, prevented her permitting any eye 
 that watched her to perceive that she was no 
 longer the happy being that she used to be. 
 She danced — danced incessantly, for this was 
 less irksome than conversation ; and the long 
 hours of the night — long at least to her, 
 though passing with winged rapidity to some 
 others of the party, wore away ; till at length, 
 to her great comfort, a movement was visible 
 towards the supper-rooms ; and she had made 
 up her mind to steal away as soon as this part 
 of the night's business should be over. 
 
 It was daring the compression of the crowd 
 towards the door-ways, which this movement 
 produced, that she was first aware of the pre- 
 sence of the young Russian, Count Roman- 
 hofi*, in the rooms. That he had been invited 
 with the rest of their acquaintance was a 
 matter of course ; and, despite her pre-occu- 
 pation, his absence had not escaped her, for 
 n2
 
 274 HARGRAVE. 
 
 he was known to be the intimate friend of 
 Coventry ; and more than once she had looked 
 about her in the hope of seeing him there, 
 but hitherto in vain. 
 
 She now saw him almost close beside her, 
 and, as her eye caught his, it was evident that 
 he was endeavouring to make his way to her. 
 An operation of this sort is greatly expedited 
 by both the parties concerned in it being of 
 the same mind. Adele greatly wished to 
 speak to M. RomanhofF, and the consequence 
 was, that her arm, either wilfully or of ne- 
 cessity, was withdrawn from that of the gentle- 
 man with whom she had been dancing, and 
 who was doing his very best to lead her un- 
 scathed through the crowd ; while she suffi- 
 ciently seceded from the throng to enable the 
 Count very soon to succeed in his efforts to 
 reach her. 
 
 " I am happy to see you, Count Roman- 
 hoff," said Adcle, civilly : " I have been look- 
 ing about for you among the waltzers, and 
 fancied you were not here." 
 
 *' I have not been here, mademoiselle, 
 more than five minutes. I have been passing
 
 HARGRAVE. 275 
 
 the evening in a scene far less "brilliant: I 
 have been assisting my poor friend Coventry 
 to prepare for his departure from Europe. 
 He vrill leave Paris — for ever probably — in an 
 hour or two. I heard him order his post- 
 horses for five o'clock." 
 
 What w^ould not Adele have given to have 
 been at that moment alone! What words 
 were those for the heart-stricken girl to hear 
 while a hundred eyes were looking at her ! 
 But the urgency of the case supported her 
 more effectually than any uncertain hope of 
 escape would have done ; and, feeling it im- 
 possible to run away, she determined, like 
 many others rendered desperately brave by 
 necessity, to make the best of it, and gain a 
 little more of the same sort of torturing in- 
 formation before she made any attempt to 
 escape. For a moment or two she was silent, 
 for she feared to trust her voice ; but at length 
 she ventured to say, " How very disagreeable 
 the crowd is ! " 
 
 ** May I offer you my arm, mademoiselle ? 
 Perhaps you will find it more agreeable to 
 retreat till the pressure is a little over ? " said
 
 276 HARGRAVE. 
 
 Count RomanliofF, whose ear had caught the 
 tremulous uncertainty of the voice in which 
 the once lively Adele had addressed him, and 
 who had his own reasons for wishing to con- 
 verse further with her. 
 
 Adele immediately took his arm. " I shall 
 thank you very much," she said, " if you can 
 manage a retreat for me ;" and then recol- 
 lecting: that bv far the best means of securing 
 the vicinity of the only person present likely 
 to speak to her of Coventry, would be by 
 placing him next herself at the supper-table, 
 and thereby securing his attendance, she 
 added, " If you can manage to get to that 
 side-door, which none but inmates know to be 
 the shortest way to the supper-rooms, we shall 
 escape the crush entirely." 
 
 The Count, with very excellent sympathy 
 of purpose, seconded her wishes by a little 
 sidelong manoeuvring, which brought them 
 speedily to the door indicated by ^Mademoiselle 
 de Cordillac ; having passed through which, 
 they found themselves able to proceed without 
 difficulty, the passage having been discovered 
 only by a few of those straggling young men
 
 HARGRAVE. 277 
 
 who have a faculty, like mice, of finding their 
 way in all directions where there is a chance 
 of getting any thing to nibble, and who may 
 be seen at most crowded parties contesting 
 with the domestics the shortest passages, and 
 most direct access to that goal of all their 
 wishes, the region of patt-gras and cham- 
 pagne. By such as these Adele and her 
 conductor passed along, without pausing to 
 reconnoitre who they might be ; but on 
 reaching one of the turnings by which Mr. 
 Hargrave had so skilfully contrived both to 
 connect and dissever the various apartments 
 of the rez-de-chaussee, they perceived that 
 gentleman at a point which draperies and 
 temporary cloisonnage had converted into a 
 sort of carrefouTy in earnest conversation with 
 a man who was neither in the dress of a guest 
 nor a domestic, but who had all the air and 
 appearance of that most disagreeable variety 
 of civilised human nature usually classed as 
 shabby-genteel. The position in which Mr. 
 Hargrave and this man stood prevented 
 either of them perceiving the approach of 
 Count Romanhoff and Ad^le, till they were
 
 278 HARGRAVE. 
 
 near enough distinctly to hear Mr. Hargrave 
 say, " I adore her, lluperto ! Manage this 
 matter for me skilfully, and the price named 
 hy you yesterday shall be doubled." 
 
 Mr. Hargrave spoke in French, but the 
 man whispered a reply in Italian, of which 
 Adele only heard enough to convince her that 
 her step-father's proposal was agreed to, what- 
 ever it was ; for her companion, very dis- 
 agreeably aware that he had led the young 
 lady into hearing what was certainly not in- 
 tended for her, hastily turned in another di- 
 rection, which at length brought them, though 
 not without a few more turnings and twistings, 
 to the room they sought : but neither of them 
 spoke a word, for both felt embarrassed by 
 the adventure. 
 
 The Count probably thought that there was 
 nothing very extraordinary in the business, 
 and would hardly have heeded the words at 
 all, had they not been spoken in the hearing 
 of Mademoiselle de Cordillac ; but on Adcle 
 their effect was very different. She was 
 shocked and astonished nmch beyond the 
 power of speaking, even if her companion had
 
 HARGRAVE. 279 
 
 been one to whom she could have expressed 
 what she felt ; and when at last she found 
 herself seated at one of the supper-tables with 
 Count Romanhoff by her side, not even her 
 earnest desire to hear him speak of his friend 
 could enable her to address a single word 
 to him. 
 
 The Count, however, was himself deter- 
 mined to speak what he came prepared to 
 say, and was in the very act of pronouncing 
 the name which, far more than he had any 
 idea of, was sure to rivet her attention, when 
 he was himself induced to postpone the subject 
 for a few moments by the entrance of Mr. 
 Hargrave leading the Duchesse de Vermont. 
 The smiling composure of his manner as he 
 led the noble lady to a place at the most 
 distinguished table, almost made him doubt 
 w^hether he had not mistaken the person whose 
 privacy he had just before so unintentionally 
 invaded ; but turning towards Adele, who was 
 so greatly less likely to be mistaken than him- 
 self, he saw plainly in the astonished coun- 
 tenance with which she regarded him, that 
 if he had blundered she had blundered too.
 
 280 IIARGRAVE. 
 
 This was no moment to do his errand, for 
 he fancied it was evident that she was too 
 completely occupied to notice what he wished 
 to say with the attention he desired to obtain. 
 He therefore contented himself with endea- 
 vouring to withdraw her eyes from Mr. Har- 
 grave by speaking of her sister, who was 
 seated near the Duchesse de Vermont ; while 
 Prince Frederic hung over Sabina's chair in 
 an attitude of very evident devotion. 
 
 The eyes of Adele fixed themselves upon 
 this group, and she sighed, but answered 
 nothing to Count Romanhoff's observation on 
 her sister's ^^ grand succts dans le monde ;* and 
 before he could say any thing sufficiently in- 
 teresting to obtain a reply, the attention of 
 both was again irresistibly drawn to Mr. 
 Hargrave, who having left the room as soon as 
 the Duchesse was seated, now returned to it 
 with Madame Bertrand on his arm, and lead- 
 ing her to a smaller table at the other end of 
 the room, seated himself beside her, and 
 assumed an air of so much gay gallantry in 
 conversing with her, that Ad^le was more 
 than ever bewildered.
 
 HARGRAVE. 281 
 
 Count RomanhofF amused himself for a mo- 
 ment or two by suffering his eyes to take the 
 same direction, after which he turned some- 
 what abruptly towards Adele, and said, 
 " Mademoiselle de Cordillac must excuse me 
 if I venture to intrude upon her attention for 
 one moment, on a subject to which it will pro- 
 bably never again be called. You must per- 
 mit me, mademoiselle, to speak to you a few 
 words concerning my unfortunate friend, Alfred 
 Coventry." 
 
 He had no longer any reason to complain of 
 Adele being preoccupied. Mr. Hargrave and 
 his mysterious companion in the lobby, 
 Madame Bertrand, Sabina, Prince Frederic, 
 were all equally and entirely forgotten; and 
 her eyes fixed themselves on his face with so 
 earnest and undisguised a look of interest, 
 that, notwithstanding some pretty strong pre- 
 conceived notions to the contrary. Count 
 Romanhoff perceived that the name he had 
 uttered was not one to which the lady he 
 addressed could listen with indifiierence. Adele 
 spoke not, however, but she bowed her head in 
 token that she was willing to hear him.
 
 282 HARGRAVE. 
 
 *' I can hardly hope, mademoiselle," he 
 said, '* to escape the imputation of being a 
 very impertinent person when you shall have 
 heard what I am going to say ; but I would 
 rather risk this, than leave it unsaid : for it is 
 just possible I may serve my friend by it, and 
 the chance is well worth a little danger.] I 
 only entreat you to believe that the fault, how- 
 ever great, is all my own, and that Alfred 
 Coventry is entirely ignorant of my intention." 
 
 This preface was not very likely to restore 
 the composure of the young lady, but she 
 shewed no outward symptom of the tumult 
 within ; and Count Romanhoff proceeded, — 
 
 *• I do not believe it possible, mademoiselle, 
 that my friend Alfred Coventry can have loved 
 you passionately for three months without 
 your being aware of it. Indeed, in opening 
 his heart to me while I was watching over 
 him, during hours in which reason and mad- 
 ness seemed battling in his brain, as to which 
 should be his master, he clearly stated his con- 
 viction that you were fuUi/ aware of this ; and 
 then, with unsparing self- accusation for the 
 weakness, he avowed also that he believed his
 
 HARGRAVE. 283 
 
 love returned You start, Mademoiselle de 
 
 Cordillac ! Is it his presumption or my 
 frankness which offends you?'' 
 
 "Neither! neither!" replied Adele, almost 
 gasping. 
 
 " I should be sorry to distress you, Made- 
 moiselle de Cordillac," said the Count, with in- 
 creased gentleness of tone, " but my self- 
 imposed duty obliges me to be perfectly sin- 
 cere. I think it is possible, and so I have told 
 him, that his not having complied with the 
 established usages of the country, by requesting 
 from your friends permission to present him- 
 self as a pretender to your hand, may have led 
 you to doubt his purpose of devoting to you 
 his life. If this be so, all may yet be well ; 
 for you must be sufficiently acquainted with 
 English peculiarities in this particular, to be 
 aware that Coventry would have been obliged 
 to sacrifice what an English lover considers as 
 his dearest privilege, had he addressed himself 
 to your step-father, or your aunt, instead of to 
 yourself. May I ask you. Mademoiselle de 
 Cordillac, whether any species of offence has 
 appeared to you to have been committed by 
 this omission V*
 
 284 HARGRAVE. 
 
 *' None, sir," replied Adele with decision. 
 
 *' I am sorry for it," said Count Romanhoff ; 
 and for a moment he was silent, but then conti- 
 nued, *' There is another point, mademoiselle, 
 on which I would say a few words, and then I 
 will take my leave. All the world acknow- 
 ledges the grace and beauty of ^Mademoiselle 
 de Cordillac, — all the world is aware of her 
 honourable descent and high connexions, — and 
 all the world, too, are perfectly well informed 
 as to the fact of her possessing what is held 
 here to be a large independent fortune; all 
 which circumstances might render the addresses 
 of a stranger suspicious from the probability of 
 their being interested, especially when, as in 
 this case, they have not been made in the usual 
 manner. If any such idea, mademoiselle, was 
 the cause of the sudden change of your manner 
 towards my friend, — a change which he assures 
 me left him without the possibility of doubting 
 that it was your purpose to check any further 
 advances towards an explanation on his part, — 
 if any such opinion found admission to your 
 mind respecting Alfred Coventry, permit me 
 to tell you that you have greatly wronged a 
 noble gentleman, who loved you with true and
 
 HARGRAVE. 285 
 
 pure sincerity, and whose fortune and position 
 in society are such as would render his alliance 
 an honour to any lady of private station in 
 Europe." 
 
 The manner of Count Romanhoff had varied 
 through the whole of this sotto voce conversa- 
 tion, — carried on under cover of all the busy 
 duties of an attentive cavalier at the supper 
 table, — from gentle to severe, according to the 
 feelings and suppositions which became pre- 
 dominant in his mind during the course of it ; 
 but the last words were uttered in a tone of 
 hauteur and indignation, which seemed to 
 imply that it must be a very meek and humble- 
 minded response indeed which would satisfy 
 him. Now, Mademoiselle de Cordillac was at 
 that moment in no humour to be humble and 
 meek to any body. All she wished and wanted 
 on earth was before her — all she had ever 
 asked from Heaven during the misery of the 
 last dreadful fortnight was accorded. She 
 was at liberty to open her whole heart to the 
 only man she had ever dreamed it was possible 
 to love ; and that by an act of generosity, and 
 not of degradation. For an instant her bright
 
 286 HARGRAVE. 
 
 eye met that of Romanhoflf ; but there was a 
 flashing joy in it that looked to him like 
 triumph, which puzzled and alarmed him. 
 *' Have I undertaken this unauthorised mission," 
 thought he, " solely to gratify the vanity of 
 this unfeeling girl ?" And again he turned to 
 speak to her ; but ere he could do so she had 
 risen from the table, saying gaily, " I see, 
 Count Romanhoff, that, notwithstanding the 
 extent of papa^s preparations, there are many 
 guests still waiting for places at the supper- 
 table : I therefore hasten to give up mine." 
 
 Before the young Russian could recover his 
 surprise at the lightness of tone with which 
 this was spoken, Adele had quitted his side ; 
 and the moment after, he saw her pass with a 
 rapid step towards a door by which she dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 ** She avoids me," thought he, with a deep 
 feeling of indignation. " Alfred must never 
 hear of this my most unauthorised and most 
 unwise interference. Yet I will describe the 
 light-hearted young lady to him as she de- 
 serves. If he has the spirit of a man, I shall 
 be able to cure him of his love !" And
 
 HARGRAVE. 287 
 
 with this friendly intention Count Romanhoff 
 hastened to leave the rooms ; and finding his 
 carriage punctually waiting for him, he sprang 
 into it and drove back to his unhappy friend, 
 determined rather to rouse him from sleep 
 than permit him to leave Paris vt^ithout the 
 advantage of knowing that Adele de Cordillac 
 was the most heartless coquet in it. 
 
 Adele herself, meanwhile, was very actively 
 engaged in a manner which she intended 
 should produce a different result. On all 
 occasions of great parade like the present, all 
 the male retainers of Mr. Hargrave were clad 
 in gorgeous liveries ; and, whether otherwise 
 useful or not, were made to understand that 
 they were expected to assist the general splen- 
 dour by shewing themselves. Old Roger 
 Humphries was on ordinary occasions ex- 
 empted from the fatigue of waiting at table, 
 his especial office being that of personal attend- 
 ant on the young ladies; but just as Adele, 
 with beating heart, was listening to the last 
 part of Count RomanhofTs communication, she 
 remarked the tall stiff old man parading 
 among the supper-tables with an aspect of 
 very pre-eminent dignity.
 
 288 HARGRAVE. 
 
 With the quickness of lightning she decided 
 upon what she would do; and the moment 
 after the Count had seen her leave the 
 room, she seized on the arm of Roger, who 
 had passed out hefore her, and only pausing 
 distinctly to pronounce the words, *' Follow me, 
 Roger!" glided off to her boudoir, w^hich the 
 old man reached immediately after her. 
 
 ** Roger Humphries," she said, struggling 
 hard to speak with sufficient composure to be 
 intelligible, — ** Roger Humphries, do you 
 remember ofFerins: to take a messao^e for me to 
 Mr. Coventry before he left Paris, if I should 
 wish to send one?" 
 
 " That I do, indeed. Miss Adele," replied 
 the old man ; " and proud shall I be if you 
 will send me upon such an errand, after all his 
 faithful servant said of him." 
 
 " But, Roger, if this is ever done, it must be 
 done instantly ! Mr. Coventry will set off in 
 an hour or two for Africa, and I never shall 
 see him more, unless a note from me be first 
 delivered to him." 
 
 "For Africa!" cried Roger, plaintively; 
 " mercy forbid. Miss Adele ! That's just where 
 the gentlemen are sure to be killed, they tell
 
 HARGRAVE. 289 
 
 me. For goodness' sake, miss, don't let him go 
 there!" 
 
 ** Are you stout-hearted enough, Roger, to 
 set off instantly to prevent it?" demanded Adele, 
 with trembling impatience. " If not, I must 
 hasten back to the ball-room, and send my 
 message by one I should be sorry to employ. 
 Speak, Roger, will you go for me ?'' 
 
 All serving-men are stout-hearted at half- 
 past three o'clock in the morning when a ball 
 and supper are a-foot; and even sober old Roger 
 felt somewhat of the contagious inspiration. 
 
 *' I will go, Miss Adele, quicker than a young- 
 er man," he replied ; " and surer too, take my 
 word for it. Give me the note. Miss Adele." 
 
 ** I must write it first, my dear old friend,'* 
 said his grateful mistress : ** sit down, Roger, — 
 sit down, while I do so." Roger obeyed, and 
 as quickly as it was possible to write, fold, and 
 seal, Adele gave him the following note : — 
 
 " If Mr. Coventry will let me see him for 
 ten minutes before he leaves Paris (for Af- 
 rica !), I shall be able to convince him that I 
 am all that he believed me to be before our 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 HARGRAVE. 
 
 last miserable meeting, at which time I was 
 led to suppose that he was exactly all which 
 be has since thought me. 
 
 *' Ad^LE DE CORDILLAC. 
 
 "Rue de Lille, half. past three, a.js. 
 23 April, 1835." 
 
 ' " Now then, dear old friend, lose no time," 
 said Adele, earnestly ; ** and remember, every 
 step you take, that Mr. Coventry leaves Paris 
 at five o'clock." 
 
 " Trust me, — trust me !" replied the old man, 
 taking the letter from her, and carefully 
 securing it in his deep waistcoat pocket, 
 fastening every massive button of his coat over 
 it, from the collar downwards. ** My old legs 
 shall ache for it rather than I will fail to get 
 there in time ; and I can't make an hour's 
 walk of it, let me go as I will." 
 
 With these consoling words the venerable 
 serving-man disappeared ; while Adele, still 
 trembling with emotion, but far happier tban 
 she had ever hoped to be again, stole un- 
 challenged to her bed-room, conscious that, 
 should the dancing be renewed and prevent
 
 HARGRAVE. 291 
 
 her sleeping, she had quite enough to occupy 
 her mind agreeably for the remainder of the 
 night. 
 
 And here it may be observed that it was im- 
 possible Mademoiselle de Cordillac could have 
 chosen a more faithful messenger. His whole 
 heart was in the business, which he understood 
 very nearly as well as his fair mistress herself; 
 and a longing and very thirsty desire for 
 another cup of wine was resisted, that no time 
 might be lost. Old Roger, nevertheless, felt 
 that it was absolutely impossible to walk across 
 either of the bridges in white silk stockings 
 and pumps, so that, of necessity, he was obliged 
 to sacrifice a few minutes, while he changed 
 them for a chaussure more suitable to the ex- 
 pedition he was about to undertake. But to 
 the honour of Roger Humphries' fidelity and 
 active walking, it must be noted that this un- 
 avoidable delay would not have made him too 
 late, had it not been that Count Romanhoff so 
 well succeeded in transfusing a portion of the 
 indignation which burned in his own bosom 
 into that of his friend, by describing Adele as 
 by far the most accomplished coquet and the
 
 292 HARGRAVE. 
 
 most heartless woman he had ever known, 
 that the unhappy Coventry, roused from his 
 uneasy slumbers above an hour before it was 
 necessary to start, grew so restless and im- 
 patient, that the Count rattled all the horse- 
 boys and postilions up, and succeeded in getting 
 Coventry's carriage packed and ready by ex- 
 actly ten minutes before five. Not another 
 instant was lost in setting off. Romanhoff, 
 kind-hearted as he was vehement, rolled him- 
 self and his full dress into a large cloak, and 
 jumped into the carriage after his friend, or- 
 dering his astonished servants to follow him to 
 Calais with all things needful for a week's 
 absence ; Coventry having gratefully agreed to 
 defer his departure for another quarter of the 
 globe, on condition of the Count's accompany- 
 ing him for a few days to London. So that 
 when honest Roger arrived, " fiery red with 
 speed," at the hotel, he had the terrible mortifi- 
 cation of hearing that the gentleman he in- 
 quired for had driven off with four horses, 
 
 ventre a terre, exactly six minutes before. 
 
 * # * # 
 
 Meanwhile the festivities at Mr. Hargrave's
 
 HARGRAVE. 293 
 
 were not yet brought to a close. The ma- 
 jority of the company, indeed, departed im- 
 mediately after supper ; but Mr. Hargrave 
 had induced the flattered and delighted Ma- 
 dame Bertrand to promise him one more 
 Avaltz, late as it was ; and as her whist-loving 
 husband had not yet left the card-table, no 
 obstacle occurred to prevent her fulfilling the 
 engagement. The grand orchestra was, ac- 
 cordingly, again called upon, and once more 
 a set of unwearied waltzers spun off round the 
 ample floor, as featly as if it had been the first 
 measure they had trod that night. 
 
 Though many of the company had departed, 
 this room was still crowded ; and all the other 
 apartments being forsaken, except by such 
 lingering card-players and loitering supper- 
 repeaters as sought amusement elsewhere, 
 it appeared to have become the sole centre of 
 attraction. 
 
 It was still, therefore, not without difiiculty 
 that the most skilful cavaliers guided the con- 
 flicting steps of each fair danseuse through the 
 host of lookers-on without endangering either 
 flounce or limb. All those experienced in
 
 294 HARGRAVE. 
 
 such matters declare that, despite fatigue and 
 the inconvenience of circumjacent pressure, 
 generally increased by the unceremonious 
 movements of persons earnestly bent on de- 
 parture, or on amusing themselves to the very 
 last, by critical examinations of every portion 
 of the pretty pageant, — despite all this, it is 
 currently asserted that the dance, or dances, 
 after supper, are worth all the rest. Why it 
 should be so, it is, of course, impossible to 
 guess ; but certain it is, that the statement 
 could rarely have proved itself more correct 
 than on this occasion, for a general air of 
 animation and enjoyment seemed diflPused over 
 nearly every individual present. 
 
 In none, however, was this more conspi- 
 cuously the case than in the youthful bride, 
 Madame Bertrand. Whether it was from ad- 
 miration of her youth and unsunned prettiness, 
 or from compassion of the shy awkwardness 
 with which she carried her little self and her 
 great diamonds, or from any other cause less 
 obvious and more difficult to trace, ^Ir. 
 Hargrave had devoted himself throughout 
 nearly the whole evening almost exclusively to
 
 HARGRAVE. 295 
 
 her. At first, poor little thing ! she felt nearly 
 as much oppressed by this as by her dia- 
 monds ; but Mr. Hargrave had not devoted 
 himself to the subtle science, called knowledge 
 of the world, without taking notes as well 
 upon simple ladies as on gentle lords ; and so 
 admirably did he practise what he had learned, 
 that even before they had sat down, side by 
 side, at the supper-table, all painful shyness on 
 the part of the lady had vanished, and she 
 permitted him to prepare for her more than 
 one goblet of champagne and iced water, 
 without appearing out of measure shocked at 
 giving so fine a gentleman so much trouble. 
 
 How much Mr. Hargrave, while recruiting 
 the spirits of his fair partner at the supper- 
 table, had been tempted to enliven his own, it 
 is impossible to say ; but undoubtedly he had, 
 during this after-supper dance, every appear- 
 ance of being particularly gay, and just when 
 the crescendo spirit of the waltzers seemed at 
 its acme, he whirled his partner lightly round, 
 and actually danced with her through the 
 draperied opening which led to the various 
 fanciful erections in the garden.
 
 296 HARGRAVE. 
 
 If any noticed this gay manoeuvre, it was 
 only to smile at the appropriate style in which 
 their versatile host thought fit to entertain the 
 pretty quondam houtiquitre, and the dance 
 went on with unabated zeal. 
 
 And now servants entered, bearing salvers 
 reeking with enticing fumes from cups of 
 warm nectar, which might have won applause 
 from gods, even when idle, and which could 
 hardly fail of being welcomed by mortals after 
 such fatigue. And while the lips of the ladies 
 sipped these delicious little draughts expressly 
 prepared for them, the gentlemen deemed 
 themselves privileged to 
 
 " Leave their fair sides all unguarded," 
 
 in order to seek from iced wine the refresh- 
 ment which the fragrant, smoking, little vases 
 of Sevres china were evidently not intended to 
 afford them. 
 
 All this, of course, occupied some time ; yet 
 still the yawning orchestra was not dismissed ; 
 and presently a cry of " Cotillon ! " was raised, 
 timidly at first, but gaining strength by de- 
 grees, till the whole room seemed to echo
 
 HARGRAVE. 297 
 
 ** Cotillon! cotillon!" The obedient mu- 
 sicians uttered one low growling groan, and 
 then began to play so invigorating an air 
 that, like the inspired minstrel immortalised at 
 Anster Fair, they seemed not to leave the 
 power of rest in any ; and this most whim- 
 sical finale of elegant festivities began in a 
 style that did not foretell a speedy ending. 
 
 Except the exemplary mothers, who were 
 chained by duty to their seats, and who moved 
 not, and might not move, till the next measure 
 ended, there were but few spectators of this 
 concluding dance, nearly all who were not 
 engaged in it having departed. Sabina alone, 
 of all the beauties who had shone as stars 
 throughout the night, was quietly, and some- 
 w^hat wearily, awaiting her setting, when time 
 and the hour should permit it. Prince Fre- 
 deric, with whom in the course of the evening 
 she had as often danced and as often talked 
 as was at all advantageous for the tranquillity 
 of either of them, had departed, as was his 
 custom, immediately after supper, and she had 
 not danced since. Gladly, upon his leaving 
 the room, would she have left it too ; but she 
 o2
 
 298 HARGRAVE. 
 
 had seen Adele quit the supper-room, and 
 having watched in vain for her return, suh- 
 mitted to the necessity of remaining to do the 
 honours till the very latest revellers had 
 quitted the house. Too tired, however, to hope 
 that she could attempt conversing, with any 
 prospect of wide-awake success, with the ladies 
 who still kept possession of the benches, she 
 placed herself in the quietest corner she could 
 find, awaiting the moment when the music 
 should cease, in order to step forward and 
 shew that she was at her post to the last. 
 
 Just at the moment when the seemingly 
 endless cotillon was at its highest point of 
 vivacity, Sabina observed her father enter the 
 room by a door leading from the supper- 
 rooms ; he was alone, and she was on the 
 point of rising to meet him, when she per- 
 ceived him very abruptly, as it seemed to her, 
 seize the hand of a partnerless lady, and dart 
 forward with her into the middle of the dance, 
 with an air of frolic and defiance of etiquette 
 both equally foreign to his usual style and 
 manner. Sabina disliked the cotillon, and 
 never danced in it ; but she felt now that she
 
 HARGRAVE. 299 
 
 disliked it more than ever, as the rude vortex 
 of its mirth seemed to constrain her father to 
 put off his graceful stateliness in order to join 
 in its turbulent evolutions. As the figure of 
 the dance brought him nearer to her, however, 
 an idea occurred greatly more painful than 
 any suggested by the circumstance of his con- 
 descending to join in a dance which she did 
 not admire, — she thought he was intoxicated! 
 and the strangely unsettled expression of his 
 eye, as well as a most unwonted want of 
 sedateness in all his movements, fully justified 
 the idea, unsupported as it was by any thing 
 she had ever seen or heard, and totally at 
 variance, as she felt it to be, with all her pre- 
 conceived opinions respecting him. 
 
 Her previous anxiety for the dance to cease 
 was now multiplied a thousand -fold. The 
 idea that her father, of whose finished elegance 
 of demeanour she was infinitely more proud 
 than she could ever have been at any imputed 
 grace of her own, should so distinguish him- 
 self, was mortification almost intolerable ; and 
 great, indeed, was the relief when, at length, 
 her weary ear ceased to throb under the
 
 300 HARGRAVE. 
 
 infliction of the instruments, whose noise 
 seemed greater as their charm grew less, and 
 group after group passed out — carriage after 
 carriage rolled off, — and the entry of servants, 
 armed with extinguishers, gave her notice that 
 she might make her exit without reproach. 
 
 As the company departed, she had the inex- 
 pressible satisfaction of perceiving that her 
 father had almost completely resumed his 
 ordinary manner. He was, indeed, rather 
 more observant in his adieux to each separate 
 guest than she had ever seen him before, or 
 than usage, as she thought, required ; '' But, 
 perhaps," thought she, ** he is conscious of the 
 effect (so unusual to him !) which wine and 
 over-exercise produced, and may be anxious to 
 prove to all who might have remarked it, that 
 it was of no long duration." Greatly com- 
 forted by this idea, she turned towards the 
 vestibule, to which he had attended the last 
 of the ladies in order to embrace and wish him 
 good night, according to custom ; but, instead 
 of finding him alone there, as she expected, 
 she perceived him to be surrounded by four 
 gentlemen, all speaking together, while her
 
 HARGRAVE. 301 
 
 father appeared to be listening to them in the 
 greatest astonishment. 
 
 ^^ C'est impossible! — mais, ahsolument im- 
 possible!'* were the first words she distinctly 
 heard, and they were spoken by a gentleman 
 with whose person she was perfectly un- 
 acquainted, but who appeared to be one of 
 the guests, and to be suffering from some 
 violent and painful agitation. 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dear sir," said Mr. 
 Hargrave, in a voice of the most pitying kind- 
 ness; " it is perfectly impossible but' that some 
 mistake must be the cause of this most painful 
 alarm. Let me entreat you to walk in, that 
 the fullest inquiries may be made of the ser- 
 vants as to the time your lady's carriage was 
 announced." 
 
 *^ My wife drive off without me!" replied 
 the personage, who was evidently the hero of 
 the affair, let it be of what nature it might, — 
 " my wife drive off without me !" he reiterated, 
 in a voice between rage and grief. *' I tell 
 you, that it cannot — cannot be!" 
 
 *' Explain to me, Monsieur de Beauvet, I
 
 302 HARGRAVE. 
 
 entreat you, what all this means?" said Mr. 
 Hargrave, turning to one of the other gentle- 
 men. ** This is Monsieur Bertrand, if I 
 mistake not. What is it that has happened 
 to him?" 
 
 " The only account I can give of the 
 matter," replied the person thus addressed, 
 ** is, that this gentleman — M. Bertrand, as it 
 appears — M. de Soissons, Milor Hartwell, and 
 myself, have heen playing during the whole 
 evening at whist. Every refreshment we could 
 wish for has been handed to us ; and, therefore, 
 as we all seemed equally to enjoy the parties 
 we have remained at the table till about five 
 minutes ago, when two footmen entered, ap- 
 parently to extinguish the lights, and informed 
 us, with many apologies for the interruption, 
 that the rest of the company were gone. It 
 so happened that we were in the act of settling 
 for the partie just concluded, and, there- 
 fore, hastened to descend without further 
 delay. These two gentlemen and myself" — 
 pointing to M. de Soissons and Lord Hart- 
 well — ** find our carriages waiting, but M. Ber-
 
 HARGRAVE. 303 
 
 trand has been assured that his lady is gone ; 
 and, therefore, has not, I believe, even in- 
 quired for his." 
 
 " Depend upon it, then, that all is as it 
 should be," returned Mr. Hargrave, gaily. " I 
 have no doubt whatever that we shall find 
 Madame Bertrand waiting in her carriage in 
 the court. I am only vexed that she should 
 have preferred this to remaining with my 
 daughters." 
 
 Ere Mr. Hargrave had well finished these 
 words, M. Bertrand rushed out of the house, 
 and Sabina then came forward to ask for 
 further particulars respecting the alarm from 
 which he appeared to be so severely suffering. 
 
 More than one voice was courteously raised 
 to answer her, when the unfortunate bride- 
 groom returned, wringing his hands, and 
 almost sobbing with emotion. 
 
 "The carriage is there! — the carriage is 
 there! — Mais elle ny est pas!" he exclaimed, 
 in an agony that was truly pitiable. 
 
 ** Sabina! when did you last see Madame 
 Bertrand ? " demanded Mr. Hargrave, with 
 every appearance of anxiety.
 
 304 HARGRAVE. 
 
 " At supper, I think, papa. Yes, certainly, 
 I have not seen her since supper." 
 
 " Gracious Heaven ! " cried the unhappy 
 husband, " that must have been hours ago! 
 Oh! doubtless she was carried off from the 
 supper -table, and must now, with all that 
 mine of wealth about her, be far beyond the 
 reach of pursuit. Yet think not," he added, 
 with a burst of very genuine tears, — '' think 
 not, gentlemen, that I am wretch enough to 
 think of the loss of diamonds at such a moment 
 as this. Alas! the naming them only shews 
 what I think to be the cause of my loss. She 
 would not have left me, do not think it, 
 gentlemen ; she has been snatched away 
 during the hurry and crowding which pro- 
 bably took place on leaving the supper-room, 
 and, ere this time, may have been both robbed 
 and murdered ! " And again the poor man wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 ''At any rate, my dear sir," said Mr. Har- 
 grave, with the most soothing kindness, " I 
 can prove to you that you are mistaken as 
 to the time ; for I myself danced with your 
 charming lady immediately after supper ; and,
 
 HARGRAVE. 305 
 
 though I will not positively assert it, I cannot 
 help thinking that I saw her dance again 
 afterwards." 
 
 "With whom, monsieur? with whom?" 
 sobbed the unhappy Bertrand. 
 
 " Nay, my dear sir, I will not pretend to 
 tell you that," replied Mr. Hargrave. ** I 
 danced the cotillon myself with Mademoiselle 
 de Charmonte, and was too much occupied by 
 her vivacity to notice very exactly who and 
 who were dancing together. But where is 
 your sister Adele, my dear Sabina? Perhaps 
 she may have been more observant." 
 
 " I believe Adele was not very well, papa," 
 replied Sabina, " for I think she retired im- 
 mediately after supper." 
 
 *^And your aunt, my dear? Madame de 
 Hautrivage will be sure to help us, for she 
 observes every thing." 
 
 '* She only danced once or twice, papa, and 
 then went up-stairs to play tcarte, as she told 
 me, with M. de Foar." 
 
 *' It matters not greatly at what hour my 
 unhappy wife disappeared," said M. Bertrand, 
 who had listened impatiently to these in-
 
 306 HABGRAVE. 
 
 quiries. " The fact which makes me the most 
 wretched of men is clear enough. I have lost 
 her! And I believe her to have been mur- 
 dered. But heaven and earth shall witness 
 that I loved her ; for if money, or labour, or 
 perseverance, to the last gasp of life, can avail 
 to avenge her, she shall be avenged ! " 
 
 These last words were spoken through closed 
 teeth, and with raised hands rigidly clenched, 
 in a manner which seemed to threaten an im- 
 mediate commencement of hostilities against 
 the whole human race. 
 
 The gentlemen looked at each other as if to 
 consult what could be done with the unhappy 
 man, who at that moment looked so like a 
 maniac, that it certainly seemed doubtful whe- 
 ther some degree of coercion might not be 
 necessary to prevent his doing mischief to 
 himself or others ; but before the expression of 
 such thoughts had got farther than their eyes, 
 Sabina, with the courage that genuine pity 
 always inspires, had laid her gentle hand on 
 the sufferer's uplifted arm, and, less by the 
 force of that than by the power of her 
 soothing voice, caused it to drop again, while
 
 HARGRAVE. 307 
 
 a fresh burst of tears gave a safer vent to his 
 feelings, and enabled those around him to 
 suggest the only mode of proceeding which 
 was likely to remedy the misfortune he de- 
 plored. He could not, however, be persuaded 
 to return to the forsaken rooms ; and the con- 
 sultation which follow^ed took place in the 
 hall, at which the pitying Sabina assisted, and 
 suggested an inquiry, the result of which 
 threw so much light upon the mysterious 
 business, as went far towards proving, even to 
 those who were less confiding than the ena- 
 moured husband, that the poor lady had been 
 snatched away with a degree of vehement 
 haste, which spoke strongly in favour of her 
 having done nothing to assist the elopement. 
 
 " Has any one inquired for Madame Ber- 
 trand's cloak ? " demanded Sabina ; upon 
 which search was immediately made in the 
 room appropriated to receiving ladies' wraps, 
 and there the ermine-lined white satin capu- 
 chin of the lost lady was discovered. 
 
 *^ There can then be no doubt that the un- 
 fortunate lady has been removed by violence," 
 observed Lord Hartwell. " No suspicion could
 
 308 HARGRAVE. 
 
 have been raised," he continued, " at any pe- 
 riod during the evening had she sent a gen- 
 tleman to ask for this mantle; and this she 
 undoubtedly would have done had power of 
 choice been left her. M. Bertrand must im- 
 mediately give notice to the police ; and it is 
 more than probable — I conceive it to be 
 almost certain — that he will discover where 
 his lady is, and by whom she has been thus 
 spirited away." 
 
 Every voice present joined in seconding this 
 proposal ; and Mr. Hargrave, in the most 
 hospitable and amiable manner, expressed his 
 hope that M. Bertrand would permit a room 
 to be prepared for him in the house, pro- 
 mising that, if he would endeavour to' compose 
 himself to rest, he would himself go in search 
 of the police, and make them fully understand 
 the nature of the business on which they were 
 to be employed, and the enormous importance 
 attached to it. But poor M. Bertrand was far 
 too miserable to consider rest as a blessing:. 
 He civilly, but peremptorily, declined Mr. 
 Hargrave's assistance ; and, pressing with an 
 air of passionate fondness the forsaken gar-
 
 HARGRAVE. 309 
 
 ment of his lost wife to his bosom, waved an 
 unceremonious farewell to the party, stam- 
 mered out some order to his servants, and 
 threw himself into his carriage. 
 
 " Where did the poor man order them to 
 drive?" said Mr. Hargrave to the three gen- 
 tlemen, who remained panic - struck, as it 
 seemed, in the hall. " I hope, poor soul ! 
 that he will not set out upon a wild-goose 
 chase without consulting a chef de police as to 
 what he had better do." 
 
 ** There is no danger of that," replied M. de 
 Soissons. " It is clear to me that he has con- 
 ceived a correct view of the case. It is per- 
 fectly evident, selon moi, that the poor little 
 woman has been kidnapped for the sake of her 
 diamonds. God forbid they should murder 
 her ! Do you think so horrible a catastrophe 
 probable, mon cher Hargrave ? " 
 
 " Mais non, mon cher^'* replied Mr. Har- 
 grave, composedly caressing his favoris, " I 
 really do not. On the contrary, if you ask my 
 opinion of the affair, en ami, I will give it to 
 you frankly : — I firmly believe that the pretty 
 little grisette has eloped."
 
 310 H AEG RAVE. 
 
 ^^Dlahle /" 'exclaimed M. de Beau vet ; " what 
 makes you think so, Mr. Hargrave?" 
 
 '' Go to bed, dearest!" said Mr. Hargrave, 
 addressing the pale Sabina, who, though trem- 
 bling violently, continued to stand near her 
 father, as if hoping to hear something which 
 might lessen the terror that shook her frame. 
 
 " Murdered!" she exclaimed, as if replying 
 to her father's command: "how can I go to 
 bed, father, till I know that she is safe?" 
 
 " Be assured of it, my dear Sabina," re- 
 turned Mr. Hargrave, slightly smiling, and in 
 an accent which seemed to speak more plainly 
 than his words. *' It is not possible for me to 
 enter into all my reasons for feeling quite 
 persuaded that this foolish young woman was 
 exceedingly likely to do exactly what she has 
 done. Kidnapping pretty ladies, whether they 
 will or no, is quite an old-fashioned device, I 
 assure you ; so go to bed, my love, — there 's a 
 good girl! — and do not alarm your kind little 
 heart more than is necessary." 
 
 Sabina remonstrated no further, but silently 
 embracing her father, and bowing a farewell 
 to the three lingering guests who still re-
 
 HARGRAVE. 311 
 
 mained in the hall with him, retired to her 
 chamber. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave continued standing in the 
 midst of the dismayed whist-players, evidently 
 waiting only for their departure to follow her 
 example ; but still they lingered, and as soon 
 as the young lady was out of sight their three 
 voices were raised simultaneously to request 
 he would explain the hints he had dropped, 
 and tell them his reasons for feeling so certain, 
 as he appeared to be, of Madame Bertrand's 
 having eloped with her own free choice. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave laughed. " It is hardly fair — 
 is it?" he said, " to examine me so very closely. 
 However, if we did not all look, and, as I pre- 
 sume, feel, so very sleepy, I might chance to 
 make you laugh, by repeating some of the say- 
 ings and doings of the pretty lady in question, 
 which I have seen and heard to-night. But I 
 cannot say I think there is any thing in the 
 affair worth keeping you out of your beds to 
 discuss. I will, therefore, only say that I be- 
 lieve you may go to sleep in peace, without 
 feeling any alarm concerning the personal 
 safety of pretty Madame Bertrand."
 
 312 HARGRAVE. 
 
 The three gentlemen smiled, nodded, and 
 looked intelligent ; but being all of opinion 
 that they could no longer resist the plainly- 
 confessed wishes of their weary host for their 
 departure, hurried away, without entering into 
 any further discussion, and Mr. Hargrave 
 mounted to his own room, by no means sorry 
 to be left alone. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
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