LIB R.AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 V.I 
 
iA^ 
 
 
THE OLT^ DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 A TALE OF BYGONE DAYS. 
 
 BY THE ATJTHOK OF 
 
 " THE YOUNG PRIMA D0N:*A," " THE BELLE OF THE FAMILY,' 
 &C., &C., &C. 
 
 " No Dower of storied song is thine 
 
 Oh ! desolate abode ! 
 Forth from thy gates no glittering line 
 
 Of lance and spear hath flow'd. 
 It is enough to know that here 
 
 Where thoughtfully I stand 
 Sorrrow and love, and hope and fear 
 
 Have link'd one kindred band." 
 
 MRS. HEMAKS. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 LONDON: 
 
 T. C. NEWBY, 65, MORTIMER St., CAVENDISH So 
 
 1844. 
 

 THE OLD DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The echoes of its vaults are eloquent! 
 
 The stones have voices and the walls do live, 
 
 It is the house of memory. 
 
 Maturin. 
 
 ^ Abbeylans, to my childhood was a dream of 
 
 ^ beauty. 
 
 n 
 
 As I wandered through its overgrown and 
 tangled plantations, or gallopped along its neg- 
 -^ lected^ grass roads, I marveUed how such a 
 paradise ever came to be deserted ; for surely 
 
 -«r<i> VOL. I. B 
 
 H 
 
 ^ 
 
2 THE OLD 
 
 earth could offer no rival, and fancy imaged 
 no fairer spot, than that on which stood the 
 jjrim old mansion, called The Dower House. 
 
 But as I grew in years, facts connected with 
 ity history, came to my knowledge, and the 
 fortunes of the Sibley family, once its owners, 
 were unfolded to me ; till I gradually became 
 aware, that it was just possible for people to 
 be as unhappy there, as anywhere else — 
 despite the brilliancy of all external circura- 
 stances. 
 
 The tower of the grey old house could be 
 seen from many a distant point of view of the 
 surrounding country, rising from the dark fir- 
 woods; and when you were within a mile or 
 two, battlements peeped out from between the 
 trees. On a still nearer approach, you could 
 see that it was not so much buried and 
 choked up as it seemed to be, for it stood on a 
 wide, bare space. 
 
 Immediately in front of the house, and ex- 
 tending the ^^hole length from east to west, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 3 
 
 was a broad, gravel terrace, round which 
 ran a low line of battlements ; and from this, 
 by a flight of steps, you came to terrace upon 
 terrace of grass. 
 
 These terraces had once been garden ground, 
 for in spite of the surrounding desolation, roses 
 persisted in keeping their season on that spot ; 
 and though they had strayed aud spread, 
 till they looked like briars, still they clus- 
 tered in bright confusion amongst the weeds, 
 and wild wood, and fragments of the moulder- 
 ing battlements, which were constantly rolling 
 down upon them. 
 
 People in the neighbourhood, weary old 
 souls, trembling on the verge of the grave, 
 remembered the day when Lady Hester Sibley 
 was brought down a bride, by her husband, 
 to Abbeylans. 
 
 It was then the Dower House of Sir Hugh's 
 
 mother — years passed, and it became the 
 
 Dower House of the Lady Hester herself, and 
 
 the happy voices of five young Sibley s rang 
 
 B 3 
 
THE OLD 
 
 cheerily from the woodland walks, through 
 which the stately figure of the widow might 
 be seen, day after day, seeking the beautiful 
 solitudes. 
 
 More years sped, and the young Sir Hugh 
 and his brother Guy were launched on the 
 world. 
 
 Sir Hugh, with his regiment, was over the 
 seas, or as the country people loved to say — 
 " in the wars," and Guy w^as established in a 
 rich rectory in Leicestershire, where he hunted 
 three days in the week, to the outward admira- 
 tion and inward dissatisfaction of his parish- 
 ioners, who felt that they had for their spiritual 
 pastor " a sporting parson." 
 
 " But he was always a wild one," said my 
 mother, as she was telling me the story, " and 
 his family made a great mistake, when they 
 thought that giving him a church would steady 
 him. He should have been in the army, and 
 gentle, good Sir Hugh in the church — but how- 
 ever it was not to be." 
 
 Meanwhile the three fair Sibleys grew up 
 
DOWER HOUS^. 5 
 
 to girlhood, tall and stately like their mother, 
 and from having copied no other model, they 
 resembled her in every movement. * It used 
 to be said, when they paced that broad terrace 
 of an evening, one by her side, the other two 
 locked arm in arm, and following at a respect- 
 ful distance, that the whole four looked as if 
 they had just left the old frames that encircled 
 the portraits of their ancestors ; so stately was 
 their tread, and so demure the expression of 
 their young countenances. 
 
 The two youngest — the inseparables — ever 
 found, as here described, linked arm in arm — 
 were twins — twins in likeness, and in love as 
 well, for whatever Mabel did, was right in the 
 eyes of Anne, and every action of Anne's 
 was closely copied by Mabel — and thus from 
 childhood had they grown up, and had from 
 infancy — 
 
 " Created both one flower, 
 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
 
 Both warbling of one song, both in one key." 
 
6 THE OLD 
 
 It was said to be a pretty sight to see these 
 three young Sibleys following their mother 
 into church on Sundays, walking up the outer 
 aisle, and half down the middle one, back to 
 the old-fashioned, square pew, which faced the 
 pulpit ; for though Hester, the eldest, kept 
 her large, white eyelids lowered with the most 
 immoveable gravity, as she passed through the 
 young and old of her humble brethren, there 
 was sure to be a sparkle in Mabel's bright 
 eyes, and a smile on the lip of gentle Anne, 
 for every look of respectful greeting that 
 met them. 
 
DOWER KOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 What is station high ? 
 
 'Tis a proud mendicant, it boasts and begs ; 
 It begs an ahns of homage from the throng, 
 And oft the throng denies its charity. 
 
 Young. 
 
 Lady Hester Sibley was not generally liked. 
 There had been a sort of prejudice against her 
 from the very first day that she ever came 
 amongst the dwellers in that county. 
 
 By her equals she was termed haughty, and 
 by the inferiors and dependants, proud. The 
 poorer classes, in their simple phraseology, were 
 
8 THE OLD 
 
 wont to call her '' mighty fine," for the former 
 dowager lady had made herself the friend of 
 the humblest and lowest, and thought no more 
 of seating herself on the boarded chair of the 
 meanest cottage, than she would of sinking into 
 the downy luxuries which abounded in the 
 Dower House. Not so, Lady Hester— on the 
 death of the dowager, her charities were scru- 
 pulously continued, and at the lamented and 
 sudden demise of Sir Hugh, the young widow 
 directed that every arrangement of his, for the 
 comfort of his tenantry and villagers, should re- 
 main unaltered; but she did not see that it 
 was done, nor did she go amongst them, and 
 thus she was any thing but a favorite. 
 
 The poor too are great physiognomists — they 
 judge of character very much by countenance 
 — and though beauty is as universal a passport 
 amongst them as in higher circles, still they 
 would rather have had a less lovely mistress 
 than the Lady Hester Sibley, could they have 
 bargained for a kindly voice, and a winning 
 
BOWER HOUSE. y 
 
 smile, to supply 'the deficiency of the stately 
 beauty of the present possessor of the Dower 
 House. 
 
 The dependants around, found no consolation 
 in the assurance, that it was the high born 
 widow's manner to be thus cold and indifferent. 
 They judged her by the honest jury of their 
 keen, and often wounded feelings ; and in 
 course of time, the hearts that she, however 
 unintentionally, chilled, grew at last to be 
 estranged. 
 
 The charity " that blesses him that gives, 
 and him that takes," is truly a disposition re- 
 siding within the heart, a fountain whence all 
 the virtues of benevolence, candour, forbear- 
 ance, compassion, and liberality flows — it ex- 
 tends its influence to every action, nay even to 
 every look, it descends to the smallest associa- 
 tions of relations, and friends, and neighbour- 
 hood, and spreads itself over the whole circle of 
 ■social and domestic life. Of this charity Lady 
 Hester lacked. 
 B 5 
 
10 THK OLD 
 
 Amongst the higher classes in the once 
 crowded neighbourhood, there was the same 
 effect, though with a slightly different cause. 
 Lady Hester had never been liked, but she 
 was courted, visited, flattered and — feared ! 
 
 In that last little word lies the secret of 
 many a woman's otherwise unaccountable popu- 
 larity. Her chief offence originated from the 
 earliest date of her residence at Abbeylans, and 
 it was the apparent caprice which regulated 
 her visiting list. She never appeared to be 
 quite aware, that a resident in the country must 
 visit indiscriminately, provided there are no ob- 
 jectionable points attached to those who leave 
 their cards of welcome. 
 
 For many years it seems, Lady Hester had 
 quietly, though distantly, acknowledged the 
 civilities of the country people ; but shortly 
 after Sir Hugh's death, when her three fair 
 daughters were growing up around her, it was 
 whispered that she professed an intention of 
 what she called '* weeding her acquaintance.'' 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 11 
 
 Whether this obnoxious sentence so generally 
 imputed to Lady Hester were truly spoken by 
 her or not, there were no means of ascertaining, 
 but it gave the greatest possible offence ; and 
 families turned shy, and held back whenever a 
 large assembly took place, lest the Lady of 
 Abbeylans, might choose to shew symptoms of 
 a '' distinction of persons" in public. 
 
 But they did not know her, if they gave her 
 credit for so little tact and little breeding as 
 this. She was too proud, too high, and too well 
 trained in the usages of the best society ever to 
 be guilty of a breach of politeness, and the 
 meanness of cutting people whom she had ever 
 deemed worthy of her acquaintance, never 
 would have entered her head. 
 
 Nevertheless, Lady Hester did make dis- 
 tinctions, and one family in particular soon 
 became aware that they were not to be on 
 terms of familiar intimacy at Abbeylans, what- 
 ever might be the consequence ; and yet so 
 adroitly was this understanding conveyed, that 
 
12 THE OLD 
 
 the parties never found room to breathe ane 
 syllable of dis-satisfaction, however galling it 
 might be to their self-love. 
 
 The Dower House reared its old towers on 
 so elevated a site, that it commanded a view of 
 the whole of a neighbouring valley, and from 
 its terrace could be seen, on a clear after- 
 noon, the thin, blue smoke of another house, 
 curling out of the belt of trees that skirted 
 Abbeylans. 
 
 This house was called the Priory, and stood 
 close to the avenue gate of the Dower House, 
 '* The Sibleys would have been a happier 
 family," said my mother with a sigh as she 
 paused in her narrative, *' had the Lorimers of 
 the Priory never existed ; that house was truly 
 the Mordecai at Lady Hester's gate, and being 
 the nearest neighbours, it was as unfortunate as 
 it was awkward." 
 
 Quiet, unobtrusive, unfeignedly charitable to 
 the poor, and universally kind, and hospitable 
 to all with whom they associated , the Lorimers 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 13 
 
 had dwelt for many generations in the county, 
 both beloved and respected — but Lady Hester 
 bore towards them an inveterate dislike, which 
 she had even almost instilled into the minds of 
 her children. 
 
 For this rooted prejudice she gave an osten- 
 sible reason — it might be the true one, and 
 there might be a deeper, but the one given out 
 was that they were Roman Catholics. Their 
 circle was small ; it consisted of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lorimer, two sons, and a daughter, but at- 
 tached to the establishment were three gentle- 
 men; one was the chaplain, the second a young 
 priest, and the third a friend of the young 
 Lorimer's, who had accompanied them, partly 
 in the capacity of a companion, during a three 
 year's tour which they had lately made abroad, 
 and who still resided in the family, for reasons 
 into which it concerned no one to enquire ; 
 for he was a person exceedingly liked and 
 admired. 
 
 They mingled freely in the society of the 
 
14 THE OLD 
 
 county. They returned the hospitalities in 
 true old English style, and they never at- 
 y tempted to make converts of the dependants en 
 their bounty, therefore they were on good 
 terms both with laity and clergy — nevertheless, 
 Lady Hester relaxed not in the rooted preju- 
 dice vrhich had taken possession of her mind — 
 her eyes would often glance restlessly from the 
 fair face of her daughter Hester, to the frank, 
 open, and manly countenances of the young 
 Lorimers, and shadows would cross her brow. 
 
 At these moments she imagined herself fully 
 justified, as a mother, in taking every precau- 
 tion at any possible cost — so deep was her dis- 
 like to the family, and so rooted her antipathy 
 to them. 
 
 .•^/^ 
 
 r-€ 
 
BOWER HOUSE. 15 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 'Thou hast heard many sounds, thou hearth ! 
 
 Deserted now by all ! 
 
 Voices at eve met here in mirth, 
 
 Which eve may ne'er recall. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 It was in this stage of the fortunes of the 
 Sibley family, that my mother was honored 
 ^ with so large a share of Lady Hester's appro- 
 bation, as to be the intimate friend and com- 
 panion of her three daughters. She used to 
 spend months together at Abbeylans, and 
 
16 THE OLD 
 
 describes Hester, Mab, and Anne, as being the 
 veriest kittens for merriment that ever breathed. 
 
 " They grew in beauty side by side, 
 They filled one home with glee," 
 
 always provided they were not in the presence 
 of their mother, for then the custom of the 
 times exacted a graver demeanour, and a more 
 subdued liveliness, and both Hester and Anne 
 could assume it in an instant ; but it was a hard 
 task for Mab, (as she was generally called), 
 who was a creature of impulse, to prison back 
 her joyous laugh, and keep the corners of her 
 rebellious lips in order — consequently, when 
 any unusual and unseemly noise echoed through 
 the long, polished picture gallery, Mab was 
 sure to be summoned to answer for the misde- 
 meanour. 
 
 Guy Sibley, whose clerical duties only suf- 
 fered him to leave his rectory for a month, or 
 six weeks at the most, in every year, generally 
 spent that portion of his time at Abbeylans ; 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 17 
 
 and it was easy to see by his manners, in the 
 domestic circle, and his inattention to the 
 advances of his neighbours, that a the compli- 
 ment of his company was to be attributed 
 more to the good partridge shooting he found 
 there, than to any other cause. 
 
 '* You will make yourself unpopular, Guy," 
 was Lady Hester's remonstrance one day, when 
 she found that not a single visit had been re- 
 turned, " and considering that you are the only 
 representative of your brother, at present, in 
 England — considering the constant absence of 
 Hugh— I think you might exert yourself a 
 little more to be hospitable, setting aside the 
 use of which you might make yourself to me." 
 
 Guy did not admire the reproof, for he had 
 passed a long day shooting, and was resting 
 himself by smoking out of the window of his. 
 mother's boudoir ; he urged the occupation of 
 the moment as an excuse. 
 
 " You would not have me go calling on those 
 people with these boots, mother, or redolent 
 
18 THE CLD 
 
 of smoke, I supjoose ? neither is the house of 
 Abbeylans, sufficiently mine, or my brother's, 
 to entail any great exertion on my part for 
 the support of its dignity — besides you do all 
 that sort of thing so wellyourself ; and honestly 
 speaking," he added warmly, for Guy always 
 ended a sentence passionately, '' when I have 
 but a month in the year to enjoy myself, it is 
 very hard to be expected to play company 
 instead !" 
 
 " Common civility is all I require of you," 
 said Lady Hester. 
 
 '' Very sorry, !Madam, in that case, that you 
 appear to require more than it is in my power 
 to perform," answered Guy, and he continued 
 smoking, with an air of sullen indiiFerence, 
 which sent a pang to Lady Hester's heart, 
 though her lips did not deign to express or 
 utter it. 
 
 His habits were such, and his temper so 
 variable, that in spite of every endeavour, it 
 was impossible, it was said, to like Guy Sibley. 
 
DOWER HOUSE, 19 
 
 It was true he could make himself agreeable 
 when he pleased ; and he was warm and affec- 
 tionate to his sisters, when nothing offended 
 him ; but every thing must be according to his 
 own liking, or the old Dower House would ring 
 with the loud tones of his voice, as he marched 
 from room to room, giving orders and issuing 
 reprimands. 
 
 His most inveterate habit appeared to be 
 ] smoking. It was some time before Lady Hes- 
 ter could discover whether it were a relaxation 
 or a positive custom, and when she found that 
 it was the latter, she signified her displeasure, in 
 terms which were not to be disputed. 
 
 In her haughty moods, even Guy Sibley 
 quailed before his mother's steady glance^ and 
 when she signified her dread of the loaded gun, 
 so constantly carried about the house on his 
 shoulder — her disapprobation of his brace of 
 pointers coursing through the rooms — her veto 
 against the evil habit of smoking, during the 
 greater part of the time he spent in doors, he 
 
20 THE OLD 
 
 agreed by a bend of the head, almost as stately 
 as her own, to obey her commands, that these 
 proceedings which so much offended his mother, 
 should be discontinued. 
 
 But, whilst silently obeying, a project for 
 the indulgence of his different whims had en- 
 tered his head ; and before many hours had 
 passed, he again sought Lady Hester's room. 
 It was to make a request. 
 
 " You disapprove and condemn the ways 
 y into which, as a bachelor parson, I have fallen. 
 Madam, but on consideration, I find, that if I 
 am to break myself of them entirely, Abbey- 
 lans will cease to have the honour of the 
 annual visit I pay it. This I presume is not 
 your wish, therefore I come to propose a com- 
 promise." 
 
 It was her son, it was Guy who was address- 
 ing her thus, or Lady Hester would have been 
 struck dumb with surprise, at the idea of any 
 one having the assurance to propose terms, or 
 come to a compromise, where she and her will 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 21 
 
 were in question — but it was Guy who spoke, 
 and she looked up from her desk, with simply 
 a few words of enquiry as to his meaning. 
 
 *' Look/' he continued, pointing to the stable 
 and offices of the house, which encroached to 
 within a short distance of Lady Hester's pri- 
 vate rooms, '' in this wing of the stable is an 
 empty loft — it is never used, and yet it is the 
 easiest of access in the whole building. I 
 could go out of the cloisters beneath this room 
 of yours, cross the court yard, and be in and 
 out whenever I chose. If you ever wanted 
 me in a hurry, you would have nothing to do, 
 mother, but telegraph from this window ; and 
 besides all these advantages, I shall be close to 
 my dogs. Give me that loft for a den, and 
 you may rest assured, that I shall never offend 
 you by my evil ways, as long as I remain at 
 Abbeylans." 
 
 From that day Guy kept his promise. 
 My mother often went with the three 
 young Sibleys to see this famous *den,' and 
 
22 THE OLD 
 
 admire its incongruous arrangements ; but 
 though Lady Hester suffered in silence, it be- 
 came soon a source of the most watchful 
 anxiety to her, and it was in vain that her son 
 overwhelmed her with praises of its comfort. 
 Little did he dream, that night after night, 
 long after she had extinguished her own light, 
 did his mother sit and watch the faint glimmer 
 of his, as he moved about that room in the 
 stable loft. Little did he think that she never 
 laid her head on her pillow, till she had 
 seen him crossing the court with his candle, 
 and heard his step pass her door up to his 
 sleeping-room ; and even then her fears were 
 not entirely tranquillized. She knew that be- 
 sides the lofts of hay and straw through which 
 he had to thread his way with that midnight 
 light, he also kept a barrel of gunpowder in 
 his den. 
 
 In short Guy Sibley's visit to his home, was 
 no longer anticij)atcd by Lady Hester with 
 the feeling of unmixed and unalloyed pleasure 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 23 
 
 of former days. She never saw him take 
 possession of that room now, without the im- 
 pression that one moment of thoughtlessness, 
 or one act of carelessness, might be the cause 
 of burning the old towers of Abbeylans to 
 the ground. 
 
 The Sibleys had a guardian appointed by 
 their late father to look after their fate and 
 fortunes ; but he seldom visited Abbeylans, 
 for the reason that Lady Hester was no great 
 favourite of his ; but she regularly asked him 
 every September to spend the month, when 
 Guy was at home, and this year he happened to 
 accept the invitation. 
 
 He was a kind, benevolent, fatherly sort of 
 old man, and looked with an eye of great affec- 
 tion on the three little girls, over whom it was 
 his duty to keep guard ; therefore to them 
 the prospect of his visit was delightful, for 
 they had not seen him since they were 
 children. 
 
 They remembered him well though, and they 
 
24 THE OLD 
 
 all retained a lively recollection of his only- 
 child, a son about the age of their brother 
 Guy, who had never been to Abbeylans since 
 he was a boy at school, but had now arrived 
 at those years which are supposed to bring dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 " And so, girls," said Guy when he had 
 watched his mother fairly out of the room, 
 '' you must steel your hearts, if you have got 
 any, for Hal Fortescue is a notorious lady 
 killer." 
 
 ** What — a what?" asked Mabel opening her 
 large eyes — w^hat did you call him ?" 
 
 " Hal — Harry — Henry, what you please," 
 was the careless answer, as their brother moved 
 away — " only remember what I tell you, garde 
 a vouSf for he is not a marrying man." 
 
 This was the first gay season the Sibleys 
 had ever known — the neighbourhood was 
 crowded with sportsmen — every house w^as full, 
 and parties went on in rapid succession. The 
 beautiful Hester Sibley was introduced, and the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 25 
 
 noble rooms of Abbey lans were once more 
 thrown open to guests. 
 
 In all this gaiety Mabel and Anne partici- 
 pated, as long as it was within the limits of 
 their home ; and on those evenings when their 
 mother and sister, escorted by Mr. Fortescue, 
 travelled seven, eight, or ten miles to a day- 
 light dinner party, they were away with Guy 
 and Henry Fortescue, mounted on a pair of 
 fleet ponies, flying over the chain of downs 
 which skirted the estate of Abbeylans, and 
 stretched like a wall of hills round the back of 
 the Dower House. 
 
 Mab was a bold rider, and she kept pace with 
 her brother, tearing over hill and dale with 
 reckless speed and delight; but Anne was a 
 coward, and Henry Fortescue had to rein in 
 his horse, till the chafed animal covered itself 
 with flake^of^ foam, whilst one hand was ' _ 
 usually engaged in holding the bridle rein of 
 his companion ; for the faster her sister's pony 
 flew, the faster went Anne's ; and though she 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
26 THE OLD 
 
 lost her breath, and got stitches in her side, 
 and shook with fright, when they sprung 
 over some rugged spot — still gentle Anne 
 went riding on, and fancied, when she got 
 safe home again, that she had enjoyed herself 
 just as much as happy, blooming Mab. 
 
DOWER HOIJSE. 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I never sued to friend nor enemy, 
 My tongue could never learn sweet soothing vt^ord, 
 But now thy beauty is propos'd, my fee 
 My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. 
 
 Shaksfeare. 
 
 In the spring of the following year, when the 
 trees were just covered with their first bright 
 dress of green, and the lanes were scented 
 with the profusion of wild flowers, which 
 gemmed the banks, Lord Randall, commonly 
 called the Baron of Buckleigh, came riding 
 down the grass roads of Abbeylans, some two 
 or three times in the week ; and rumour which 
 c 3 
 
28 THE OLD 
 
 had as busy a tongue in those bygone days 
 as now, gave out that he was wooing, and 
 hoping to win the hand of one of the three 
 fair Sibleys. 
 
 Buckleigh was twelve long miles from Ab- 
 beylans — there was a line of dark forest on 
 the horizon, which told the eye where Lord 
 Randall lived ; but twelve miles in summer's 
 sun or winter's snow, was a goodly ride, and 
 if the Baron spent the day at Abbeylans, it 
 was a goodly ride back again, when two wide 
 and dreary commons had to be crossed by the 
 moon's pale light, and sometimes by none at 
 all ; and though both he and his grooms were 
 well mounted, and armed according to the 
 exigences of the times, still the highways 
 were hardly safe, and the byways were posi- 
 tively dangerous ; so when the days were short, 
 Lord Randall, of Buckleigh, was asked to 
 stay the night at Abbeylans, and when the 
 days grew longer, the invitation was some 
 how continued, partly from habit and partly 
 as a matter of course. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 29 
 
 Thus sped the spring, and by the summer 
 time, Lady Hester began to wax impatient, at 
 the many long sentences which Lord Randall 
 was wont to pour into her ear, as they paced 
 the terrace together in the sunset, and glanced 
 as they passed and repassed, at the graceful 
 figure of young Hester Sibley, sitting on the 
 battlements with her two sisters. 
 
 Hitherto nothing definite had fallen from 
 his lips; he was a stern and haughty man, 
 with a grave manner, and a dark, lowering 
 brow ; but he was in the prime of life, with 
 broad lands, and a long rent roll, and could 
 tell of his ancestry back and back, till one 
 wearied of hearing how many generations had 
 been Barons of Buckleigh. To such a man, 
 the theme of love was strange, and therefore 
 the Lady Hester listened with a complacent 
 and forgiving smile, when on one of these 
 evenings, he stammered forth his hopes and 
 his wishes in favour of her eldest daughter, fair 
 Hester Sibley. 
 
30 THE OLD 
 
 The mother found no difficulty in interpret- 
 ing those broken sentences. She liked Lord 
 Randall all the better for his humility and 
 diffidence, ill as it sat upon him, and she pro- 
 mised to speak with her daughter on the 
 subject, as soon as she found a fitting oppor- 
 tunity ; which was conducting afiairs with 
 a tardiness and delay, held to be in strict 
 accordance with the rules of decorum and pro- 
 priety. 
 
 To Hester herself, the flattered mother 
 imagined the announcement would be an 
 agreeable surprise, although she knew nothing 
 of her daughter's sentiments with regard to 
 the noble suitor. Between that mother and 
 daughter there existed no interchange of 
 thought or feeling; the exaggerated respect 
 which placed the barrier between their hearts, 
 amounted to awe, and an awe bordering very 
 closely on fear; and thus Lady Hester was 
 utterly unable to judge how the proposal would 
 be received. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 31 
 
 That night Lord Randall meant to ride 
 home, and when his horses were brought round 
 to the court, Lady Hester was pacing up and 
 down the terrace, which communicated with 
 the court yard, by means of a deep archway, 
 almost like a cloister. 
 
 She condescended so far as to approach and 
 curtesy her farewell, as he mounted, and then 
 returned to her favorite walk. 
 
 At the end of the house, commanding the 
 same aspect as the terrace, was the room ap- 
 propriated to Mab and Anne, and on this 
 evening, the three sisters happened to be sitting 
 together, at the open window as Lord Randall 
 spurred away. They little thought that the 
 still night breeze carried every tone of their 
 young voices to Lady Hester's ear, or Mab 
 would not so unceremoniously have exclaimed, 
 
 '' I'm glad he's gone — he is off, dear Hester ! 
 Look, 
 
 ' He loves and he rides away !' 
 
 There was a ringing, musical laugh, and 
 
32 THE OLD 
 
 then the low voice of Hester reproved the 
 merriment. 
 
 '' Shame on you, Mab !" 
 
 " Nay, Hester, why shame ? are you sorry 
 he is gone away to-night? cheer thee!" she 
 added with another burst of mocking but good- 
 natured glee, "he will be back again tomorrow." 
 
 " I care not," was the answer. 
 
 " Nay, but you must care ! look how gal- 
 lantly he rides! I wish I were with him, 
 Hester dear ; see how they bound over the 
 drawbridge ! and up the hill — he looks back ! 
 he looks back ! Hester and Anne, I vow he 
 turned his head !" 
 
 And Mab clapped her hands with delight. 
 The rustling of drapery then told that the sisters 
 had risen from their seats, and as their voices 
 died away, the few last sentences were wafted 
 to Lady Hester's ear. 
 
 " You like him so much, Mabel, perhaps he 
 will come back for you !" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 33 
 
 ** Nay, Hester ! when you know — you know 
 it will be for you." 
 
 " Then heaven forefend," was the hasty 
 answer, and the window was suddenly closed. 
 
 Lady Hester was seriously displeased at the 
 knowledge she had gained by her unintentional 
 eaves-dropping — she was displeased for many 
 reasons — one was, that Mab, whose demure 
 mouth, and downcast eyes, seemed incapable of 
 mischief, should presume to laugh at her eldest 
 sister, and joke on such a subject; another, that 
 two young girls playful as kittens, and watch- 
 ful as cats, should have discovered the object of 
 the Baron of Buckleigh's frequent visits — and 
 her last reason for displeasure, was, the smothe- 
 red ejaculation which had fallen from Hester, 
 as she concluded the conversation by closing 
 the window. 
 
 That night as the mother and her three 
 daughters sat round the supper table, an un- 
 usual silence prevailed, and Mab herself was 
 thoughtful and subdued ; till after an unbroken 
 c 5 
 
34 THE OLD 
 
 pause of several minutes, she suddenly ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 '' In truth we miss him, do we not?" 
 It was so common for Mabel to hazard indis- 
 creet remarks, that at any other time the 
 laughter of her sisters, and the frown (strug- 
 gling with a smile) of her mother, alone would 
 have greeted one, but this happened to be an 
 untoward moment; and the name of Lord 
 Randall seemed so little necessary for the 
 definition of the pronoun " him" from his being 
 uppermost in the thoughts of the whole party, 
 that it was the signal for Lady Hester's rising, 
 and dismissing the trio to their different apart- 
 ments, to avoid further remark, explanation or 
 discussion. 
 
 In those days the opposition of a child 
 to the will of its parents, was a circum- 
 stance of unusual occurence — so much so, that 
 in spite of the ejaculation of the evening before. 
 Lady Hester entered upon the subject in ques- 
 tion, with the most entire conviction that all 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 35 
 
 would go right ; and she was not mistaken in 
 her belief that her daughter would neither 
 argue nor disobey. 
 
 The habits of obedience in which that family- 
 had been brought up, clung too closely to them 
 still, for any thing of that kind ; but Hester's 
 was not a face of happiness, when her prospects 
 of future rank and station were explained to 
 her. 
 
 She listened with a cheek blanched by con- 
 flicting emotions, and trembling lips, which re- 
 fused an audible assent to her mother's enquiries, 
 though she did not fail, as in duty bound, to 
 bow her head, when Lady Hester paused for 
 affirmation to her different questions. 
 
 The conference of that morning was a pro- 
 longed one, and Hester had gone through it 
 admirably — she had listened, and acquiesced — 
 partly perhaps because she had had no choice ! 
 and she had dutifully signified her resolution of 
 following the line, and rule, and way, in which 
 she was told to tread — when suddenly there 
 was a tramp of many horses' feet in the paved 
 
36 THE OLD 
 
 court-yard, and the dark, stern visage of Lord 
 Randall of Buckleigh was seen passing beneath 
 the windows of the room in which she stood. 
 
 In an instant her courage gave way — in an 
 instant she repented of her silence, her obedi- 
 ence, and her resolutions. She had caught the 
 glance of his eye, as he raised it in riding by, 
 and she then recollected that she hardly knew 
 any thing of him, had always feared, 
 rather disliked him, and certainly at that 
 moment felt almost a horror of him ; so she 
 clasped her hands, and sinking at Lady Hester's 
 feet, exclaimed, whilst she buried her face in 
 her drapery, — 
 
 " Oh, mother, must it be? Oh, mother, is 
 it too late ?" 
 
 But this action was a forgetfulness of dig- 
 nity, and the words a symptom of opposition, 
 which Lady Hester chose neither to encourage, 
 nor understand ; therefore after gently disen- 
 . gaging her skirts from her daughter's grasp, 
 she passed out of the chamber into the gallery 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 37 
 
 to receive her guest, and Lord Randall of 
 Buckleigh was accepted that day. 
 
 The Baron was highly gratified, and flattered 
 by the manner of his acceptation — nothing 
 could be more gracious than Lady Hester, as 
 she played her part, and nothing more satisfac- 
 tory than the changing cheek of his future 
 bride, as he bowed upon her hand, and ventured, 
 whilst he led her to a seat, to raise it to his lips. 
 Therefore all went well on that day, when the 
 first of the three fair Sibley s was promised 
 away. 
 
38 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Silence on sea and earth, 
 
 With the veil of evening fell, 
 Till the convent tower sent deeply forth 
 
 The chime of the vesper bell. 
 
 T. G. Whittier. 
 
 It very soon became known throughout the 
 county, that a marriage was pending between 
 Lord Randall of Burleigh and Miss Sibley; 
 and Lady Hester had no well wishers, more 
 sincere on the occasion than the Lorimer party. 
 Mrs. Lorimer was the first to go to the Dower 
 House to congratulate, and though she found 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 39 
 
 Lady Hester even higher than usual, it mat- 
 tered not to one so sincere and kindly as Mrs. 
 Lorimer ; for she never failed to seek excuses 
 for every fault to which '^ flesh Was heir." 
 
 *' And on this occasion," said she one evening, 
 to the united group which composed the circle, 
 as they wandered in the grounds of the Priory 
 after dinner, " I do not wonder that Lady 
 Hester is elevated, for she is giving her 
 daughter into safe hands, and to a man pos- 
 sessed of every worldly advantage besides — it 
 must be a relief to her mind to have done so 
 well for the first that leaves her." 
 
 " Strange sort of fellow, Lord Randall !" re- 
 marked Edward Lorimer, the eldest son, '' and 
 how two such very reserved persons will ever 
 get on together, as he and Miss Sibley, is a per- 
 fect marvel to me." 
 
 " Of the three I should hardly have chosen 
 her," said his friend, Mr. Raynier, who was 
 walking by his side. 
 
 The words were spoken carelessly, but Mrs. 
 
40 THE OLD 
 
 Lorimer, took them up with a smile, as she 
 turned to the speaker. 
 
 " No, Clement ! I always thought you ad- 
 mired Hester Sibley ?" 
 
 '^ Assuredly, Madam, I did so," was the 
 laughing reply, *' but a thought entered my 
 mind, of Lord Kandall's entertaining more than 
 admiration for the young lady." 
 
 " True — true — you are right — her sisters are 
 more prepossessing in point of manners, only 
 one never knows those merry twins apart." 
 
 *' Nay, the one who laughs is sure to be 
 Mab," said Edward Lorimer hastily. *' I often 
 hear her voice ringing through the woods — but 
 Clement likes the silent one." 
 
 " Pardon me," answered Mr. Raynier, strik- 
 ing off the towering head of an arum lily as it 
 bent across the path. " I never said so." 
 And no more passed, except a wish expressed 
 by Mrs. Lorimer, that Lady Hester allowed 
 her daughters to associate a little more with 
 their nearest neighbours; after which the slow 
 
/' 
 
 DOWER HOUSE. 41 
 
 and silvery bell of the private chapel summoned 
 the whole party in to their evening devotions. 
 That same small vesper bell was one great 
 source of disquietude to the lady of Abbey- 
 lans ; its clear tones reached her ear every even- 
 ing, as she took her accustomed walk along the 
 terrace, and to show how trifles may sometimes 
 have power to irritate the strongest minds, the 
 few moments during which it rang were spent 
 by her with a compressed lip and a contracted 
 brow. She was even once heard to say, that 
 as long as the Lorimers dwelt at the Priory, 
 she could never feel perfectly happy, or per- 
 fectly at ease — circumstances sometimes lead 
 ones thoughts away from a distasteful subject, 
 but in this case it was impossible her thoughts 
 could stray for long together — the evening 
 brought them back again by the sound of that 
 chapel bell. 
 
 Guy Sibley had always been fully aware of 
 his mother's dislike to the Lorimers, but it was 
 a matter of very small consequence to him, 
 
42 THE OLD 
 
 for they were an agreeable family, and the 
 eldest of the sons was a young man entirely 
 after his own heart. Ever since a certain day 
 when he was invited to the Priory, to aid in 
 casting bullets, his good will was won — from 
 that hour he pronounced them friends of his 
 own, and declared them to be a very interesting 
 family. 
 
 '' Possibly !" was his mother's haughty reply 
 after she had heard him for some time with 
 patience, " but in that very quality lies the 
 danger. I forbid you ever encouraging, or 
 suffering the young Lorimers to join you in 
 these grounds, or in your rides, whilst I permit 
 your sisters to be under your charge — in this 
 respect, you will remember that I look to be 
 obeyed." 
 
 And she was obeyed according to the letter 
 of the law, for Guy soon took an equal fancy 
 to Clement Raynier, against whose name no 
 injunctions had been given, and who was now, 
 it seemed, fairly a resident at the Priory — often 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 43 
 
 and often, unknown to Lady Hester, (for some 
 how, no one mentioned it), Clement Kaynier 
 was led by the light of Mab's bright eyes, and 
 Anne's sweet smile, to join them in their riding 
 excm'sions, during the brief time of Guy's 
 sojourn at the Dower House; after which there 
 came a twelvemonth's cessation of all but the 
 most distant intercourse ; and thus began the 
 intimacy, if so it could be called, between the 
 Priory and the Dower House. 
 
 "Guy might well call them an interesting 
 family," said my mother, after a pause, in 
 which she appeared to be collecting scattered 
 thoughts, " for every unprejudiced person felt 
 them to be that ; the young men were highly 
 accomplished, and had seen so much more of 
 the world than was usual in their day ; and 
 Jessie Lorimer was a wild, eccentric being, 
 in whom it was impossible not to feel an in- 
 terest. Then there were those two Jesuit 
 Priests ! they were so active and zealous 
 amongst the children of the poor Irish in the 
 
44 THE OLD 
 
 country, and did so much in their behalf, 
 that it grieved me to reflect, that the differ- 
 ences in their mode of faith, should be the 
 means of dividing them in a manner from 
 us ; in short, as Guy said, they were certainly 
 an interesting family. In after times this 
 interest was trebled twenty-fold, by a circum- 
 stance over which much mystery, and no small 
 tinge of romance, was thrown. Jessie Lori' 
 mer suddenly left her home under the charge 
 of father Gilbert, the old priest, with tlie 
 full sanction of her parents, and entering a 
 convent near Kome, took the irrevocable vows, 
 which qualify a nun." 
 
 In spite of all care and caution, rumours 
 got afloat, which had probability for their 
 foundation, and it was said that a hopeless 
 attachment had prompted the fatal step which 
 parted her for ever from its unconscious 
 object. And who was he, but Clement 
 Raynier ! 
 
 Perhaps the family heard nothing of these 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 45 
 
 rumours and whispers— it would appear that 
 they did not, for Mr. Kaynier still remained 
 under their roof, for more than two years after 
 Jessie Lorimer's profession as a nun. 
 
 He was the son of an old friend of Mr. 
 Lorimer, and had been left under the guard- 
 ianship of the latter from an early age, with 
 a small patrimony, just sufficient to enable him 
 to make his way in the world. As was to 
 be expected, his conversion to the Roman 
 Catholic Church, was the first step in life 
 that he made, and in this work it was said 
 that Jessie Lorimer had had no inconsiderable 
 share. He then accompanied her brothers 
 abroad, in his character of first-rate linguist 
 and scholar, and finally became an almost 
 constant resident under the hospitable roof of 
 
 the Priory. 
 
 My mother often remarked in the course of 
 her narrative, that she remembered him to have 
 had one of the most perfect countenances of 
 manly beauty that it was possible to see, and 
 
46 THE OLD 
 
 therefore the surmises as to the cause of 
 Jessie Lorimer's retirement from the world were 
 supposed to be pretty nearly allied to truth. 
 Lady Hester Sibley was in the habit of call- 
 ing that young man the '' Lorimer's victim," 
 and whenever she deemed them worthy of 
 being the subject of her discourse, she used to 
 hold him up as a sad example of human 
 weakness, and pity him as their prey. This 
 was bad policy, for it gave him a sort of ficti- 
 tious interest in the eyes of Mab and Anne, 
 though Lady Hester little knew how often 
 he was made the theme of their meditations. 
 The restrictions also that she placed on their 
 communication with this family were bad 
 policy, for it tended very often to increase their 
 anxiety, to see into the mysteries, if there 
 were any; and if there were none, why must 
 they never go and drink tea by themselves at 
 the Priory ? 
 
 If Mab had one weakness more than another 
 it was a love of personal beauty ; it carried 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 47 
 
 everything before it in her opinion, and from 
 a human being down to the youngest duck- 
 ling in the farm yard, she owned its sway, 
 and felt it, either in argument or power, able 
 to steal her affections irresistibly. Conse- 
 quently Jessie Lorimer, with her melancholy 
 but handsome face, was in Mab's eye a much 
 more desirable acquaintance, than a certain 
 Lady Mildred Evelyn, Earl Evelyn's eldest 
 daughter, who very often came over from the 
 Castle to spend the day at Abbeylans. 
 
 '^ Look at her !" cried Mab one day with 
 an expression very like scorn on her merry 
 lip, as she leant, with her twin sister, over the 
 low battlements, and watched Lady Mildred 
 walking her horse quietly over the drawbridge, 
 and up the grass slope on the opposite side ; 
 " look at her, Anne ! — where is her spirit to 
 walk that gallant charger thus? Oh would 
 the horse were mine ! — on ! on ! Lady Mildred 
 Evelyn ! but no — she walks it still. Ah me ! 
 I like her not, sister mine, and there's an 
 end of it!" 
 
48 THE OLD 
 
 " Nay, but I like her fairly," was Anne's 
 reply, **and she does well in walking cau- 
 tiously — the grass is slippery, and the draw- 
 bridge somewhat old and crazy." 
 
 *' But she is old of her years — too old for 
 us," retorted Mab impatiently," give me sweet 
 Lady Anne." 
 
 '* Lady Anne may be changed since we saw 
 her," was the answer of the graver twin. 
 She had been a young companion of their 
 early childhood, a sister of Lady Mildred's 
 some years her junior. They had all played 
 together in the same nursery, and had been 
 attached little friends, till it was the Earl's 
 will that his daughter Anne should go abroad 
 with an aunt for her education ; and conse- 
 quently this aunt placed her charge en pension, 
 at a convent, from which she was at this period 
 about to be withdrawn. 
 
 Mab and Anne looked forward to her return 
 with delight, for each had their own bright 
 recollections of her. Mabel, as a matter of 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 49 
 
 course, of her beauty, and Anne of her 
 exuberant gaiety — 
 
 " Which may all be changed," as she wisely 
 remarked. 
 
 '' Why should it be ? We are not changed, 
 so why should she be ?" asked Mab. 
 
 " Because she has been so much more in the 
 world," was the answer of the more thoughtful 
 sister, and as the words were a mystery to 
 Mabel, she let them pass, and held her peace. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
50 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 And now the polished modern squire. 
 
 And his gay train appear ; 
 
 Who duty to the hall retire 
 
 A season every year. 
 
 And fill the seats with belle and beau, 
 
 As 'twas so many years ago. 
 
 Miss J. Porter. 
 
 In due course of time, after his proposal and 
 acceptation, Lord Randall was to be asked 
 over from Buckleigh to spend some weeks at 
 Abbeylans, and Lady Hester therefore re- 
 quested the presence of Mr. Fortescue to 
 meet and entertain him there, .writing to 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 51 
 
 Guy at the same time, with a similar invi- 
 tation. 
 
 Mr. Fortescue immediately accepted it, and 
 Guy was apparently only too happy, to get a 
 friend to do duty for him during half of 
 August, as well as the whole of September ; 
 so his acquiescence came with speediness and 
 warmth. 
 
 The marriage was to be celebrated about 
 the end of September, and a month before 
 the time, the family group were filling old 
 Abbeylans with noise and gaiety. When 
 Mr. Fortescue arrived, it was with no small 
 surprise, that Lady Hester found he had 
 brought his son with him uninvited ; for it 
 had escaped her memory to ask him, as so 
 much of his life had been passed in wandering 
 over the face of the globe, that it had not 
 occurred to her that he might be at home 
 at the time when his father's presence was 
 required. 
 
 D 3 Uc OF liJU U&, 
 
52 THE OLD 
 
 He came however with his gay, free air, 
 and his off hand manners, and carried himself 
 as though he knew he must be well received, 
 and this was an assumption which was far 
 from pleasing to Lady Hester. She was one 
 of those who could never excuse the slightest 
 deviation from strict etiquette. Henry For- 
 tescue's manners were not those of the old 
 school, and she could not quite understand 
 them ; but his lively self-confidence, and 
 noisy gallantry, were glaringly objectionable 
 to the mother of two fair and disposable daugh- 
 ters, for the Lady Hester having just matched 
 oncy was rather disposed to look upon every 
 one who approached the other two, in the light 
 of a ^^ parti,'' and in consequence question her- 
 self in secret upon the eligibility. 
 
 In this light Henry Fortescue was well 
 qualified to stand a scrutiny ; he was young, 
 handsome, an only child, and passing rich ; 
 but Lady Hester did not like him personally — 
 moreover, though she knew he was aware of 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 53 
 
 this fact, he never neglected an opportunity 
 of throwing himself in her way — the present 
 was a case in point. 
 
 *' Of course," said Mr. Fortescue the guar- 
 dian, as the party seated themselves at breakfast 
 the first morning, '* my son has explained to 
 your ladyship, the cause of his unexpected ap- 
 parition in this part of the world ?" 
 
 " On the contrary," was Lady Hester's cold 
 but courteous reply, as she bent her dark eyes 
 on the young man himself, " that explanation 
 is a pleasure yet to come." 
 
 The air of dignity was lost on Henry For- 
 tescue — he was utterly engrossed, and en- 
 grossing, the attention of Guy, Mabel, and 
 Anne, with a new mode of making chocolate, 
 till the peremptory voice of his father, roused 
 him, and then he looked up — 
 
 "Eh? what? — oh yes, a thousand pardons 
 madam. Yes — the fact is, there is a very 
 old friend — a very great friend of mine," he 
 
54 THE OLD 
 
 added with a sly smile, "just come into the 
 neighbourhood, and I have been asked to 
 meet her — asked to her father's house indeed 
 — Castle Evelyn — Lady Anne is my friend — 
 met her abroad — never saw any of the rest of 
 them except the Earl — and that is what 
 brought me here." 
 
 '* A change came o'er " Lady Hester's 
 "spirit" when she heard these words — thoughts 
 flew rapidly through her mind— the young 
 man on whose unceremonious arrival she looked 
 so coldly, was the invited guest of the mis- 
 anthrophical Earl Evelyn, who rarely asked 
 any one to his house. She experienced a 
 strange revulsion of feeling, and her voice was 
 changed, when she spoke again — 
 
 '' But I hope the Earl does not expect me 
 to spare you until our festivities are over, 
 Harry?" 
 
 An almost imperceptible sneer crossed the 
 elder Mr. Fortescue's lip, but his light hearted 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 55 
 
 son thought of nothing save the implied invita- 
 tion, which he gaily answered — 
 
 *^ Thank you — you are very good — he men- 
 tioned no time — only said August or Septem- 
 ber, so I can go when I like, and stay here 
 just as long as you like, which I hope is an 
 arrangement which will be very agreeable to 
 all parties." 
 
 " But, Lady Anne," interrupted Mabel, who 
 could keep silence no longer — " do tell us, 
 Harry, is it Anne Evelyn, that we know so 
 well ? She has only been at home a few days 
 — we have not even seen her yet — is it really 
 Anne Evelyn you mean?" 
 
 " But it can't be!" cried Anne, before any 
 answer could satisfy their curiosity — ** not our' 
 Lady Anne, for she has been in a convent all 
 the time, that she has been abroad !" 
 
 " The same," said Henry Fortescue, '* has 
 she not an aunt called Lady Bridget Doneraile ? 
 will that convince you ?" 
 
 *' Oh, yes !" exclaimed both twins at once. 
 
56 THE OLD 
 
 " but then — " and they paused, as they recol- 
 lected they were doubting the word of their 
 guest. 
 
 " But then," he rejoined, as he laughingly 
 took up their words, '^ you wish me to explain 
 the mystery of the convent ? Well, it was thus, 
 I became acquainted with your neighbour — I 
 happened to be in Rome during the month of 
 Lady Bridget Doneraile's visit, and her serene 
 ladyship was pleased to be particularly kind to 
 your humble and unworthy servant, insomuch 
 as to suffer me to be her cavaliere servente on 
 every occasion ; and many occasions were made 
 expressly for the amusement of the young 
 Lady Anne Evelyn, who for that short space 
 of one month, was permitted to spend her 
 mornings without the walls of the convent, 
 and in company of her august aunt, Lady 
 Bridget — and now, have I convinced your 
 minds that it is in verity your Lady Anne who 
 is my acquaintance at Castle Evelyn ?" 
 
 " And what is she like?" cried Mabel, who 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 57 
 
 had listened like one entranced during the latter 
 speech — " tell us ! tell us quickly ! is she like 
 what she was ?" 
 
 '' Are you — have you been long acquainted 
 with the earl, Henry ?" said Lady Hester, who 
 had not heard the preceding dialogue. 
 
 " No^ Madam— Lady Bridget Doneraile did 
 me the honour of presenting me to her brother, 
 by a letter of introduction, which I found an 
 opportunity of leaving at his house in London 
 about three weeks ago — our acquaintance, 
 therefore dates from that period ; but you 
 asked me a question, Mabel ?" 
 
 Mabel eagerly repeated it. 
 
 '^ Is she like what she was?" 
 
 *' What was she like, when you saw her 
 last ?" was the laughing question in return — 
 *' in the first place, what was her age?" 
 
 *' She was ten !" eried both the twins again 
 in concert — " and so pretty — and so merry." 
 
 '' Well, she is now I suppose about seven- 
 D 5 
 
5S THE OLD 
 
 teen, neither pretty, nor merry— but moderately 
 cheerful, and particularly graceful." 
 
 Mab's countenance fell as these words were 
 pronounced, and she looked at Anne as though 
 she had been a prophetess, and had predicted 
 truly ; for Anne's words were still fresh in her 
 memory, and they now came back to her ear 
 again. 
 
 '' She may be changed since we saw her 
 last. She has been more in the world than we 
 have." 
 
 But they had soon an opportunity of judging 
 for themselves. Lady Anne Evelyn rode over 
 to Abbeylans, as fast as Mabel herself could 
 desire, and astonished them all, by the finished 
 and womanly grace of her manners, though as 
 Henry Fortescne had rightly said, she had no 
 beauty. 
 
 The twins, albeit very few months younger 
 than their quondam companion, were still such 
 children in every thing that they felt them- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 59 
 
 selves very small, when Lady Anne appeared 
 at the first party, where they met, in a hoop 
 of the style, called the bell-hoop. 
 
 It was usual then to wear these in full dress, 
 and though it was a dignity to which Anne 
 and Mabel had not yet attained, they were to 
 sport them at a ball, given by Lady Hester in 
 the course of her festivities, and they did so. 
 
 My mother laughed as she came to this era 
 in their lives, pretty souls ! for she recalled to 
 her mind the very evening, as clearly as though 
 it had been but a day before, when this lovely 
 pair first sailed along the gallery together, 
 under the eye of Lady Hester, who stood 
 watching them from one extremity of it. 
 
 No sooner had she disappeared, than Guy 
 and Henry Fortescue came to scrutinize as 
 well, and from making them walk up and down 
 to show themselves off, they very soon came 
 to seeing which could run fastest in their 
 hoops, to the infinite amusement of their de- 
 lighted brother. 
 
60 THE OLD 
 
 The consequence of all this was, that by the 
 time the first carriage full of guests entered 
 the court yard, and set the twins to flight, 
 every particle of powder had been shaken out 
 of their heads, and it was nearly two hours 
 before they were sufficiently repaired to enter 
 the ball room. 
 
 When there however, the admiration they 
 met, somewhat pacified their displeased mother, 
 and they were thus spared the severe reprimand, 
 which generally followed any act of similar in- 
 subordination, and infringement of decorum. 
 
 Their guardian, Mr. Fortescue, watched 
 them with* a keen, and curious eye. Though 
 hardly able to distinguish between the two, he 
 began, before the close of the evening, to un- 
 derstand, that she, whose first minuet was so 
 tremblingly, yet gracefully danced with Cle- 
 ment Raynier, was Mabel — and that she, by 
 whom the handsome friend of the Lorimers 
 was most frequently walking, or standing, or 
 talking, was likewise Mabel, for Anne waa 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 61 
 
 little seeD. She was very shy, and kept near 
 her brother as long as she could ; and then she 
 shrank to Mrs. Lorimer's side, and danced her 
 first minuet with the eldest son. 
 
 Once in the course of the evening, as Lady 
 Hester passed close to Mr. Fortescue, she said 
 to him in a low voice, 
 
 " It is very strange that my daughters seem 
 to make a point, of associating themselves more 
 with the Lorimer group, than any in the room. 
 I should be greatly indebted, Mr. Fortescue, 
 if you would endeavour to direct them from 
 that distinction. 
 
 And as the lady went on her way, Mr. For- 
 tescue could not refrain from thinking, that in 
 her watchful attention to the movements of the 
 Lorimers, she was entirely overlooking the 
 frolicsome Mabel, who was flitting about like a 
 fairy, in and out of the open windows which 
 led upon the terrace, in company the greater 
 part of the time with Clement Eaynier. 
 
62 THE (LD 
 
 He did not wish to make mischief, so he 
 said nothing, but he kept an active watch, and 
 followed them with his eyes. 
 
 Whilst thus occupied, his ward, Hester, the 
 fiancee, glided by, and placing her arm within 
 his, drew him out on the terrace with the 
 words — 
 
 '^ A sultry night, dear sir — do let us breathe 
 the fresh air." 
 
 This was exactly the opportunity he had 
 long wished to find. The settled melancholy 
 on her beautiful countenance, which appeared 
 to sink deeper and deeper as her wedding day 
 approached, had long been a source of anxiety 
 to Mr. Fortescue ; but hitherto they had not 
 been allowed one instant of unwitnessed con- 
 versation, therefore his doubts and fears had 
 only smouldered. Now, however, they were 
 alone together, and as they paced the terrace 
 in the moonlight, he spoke long and seriously, 
 and almost insinuated, that if her mind misgave 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 63 
 
 her, and she felt herself unhappy, it was not 
 yet quite too late to pause and save herself. 
 
 Hester was one of very few words, but 
 those she uttered were always to the pur- 
 pose — she listened attentively to all her guar- 
 dian said, but answered only by a mournful 
 shake of the head. 
 
 " I wish I were in your confidence," said Mr, 
 Fortescue after a pause, " I wish I knew — " 
 
 '* Any thing you ask me I will most wil- 
 lingly answer," interrupted Hester. 
 
 *' Then I wish I knew whether you had any 
 other attachment ?" was the blunt rejoinder. 
 
 " None I" answered Hester with a sudden 
 flash of the eyes, as though she were offended 
 at the bare supposition, of such treachery to 
 Lord Randall. 
 
 *' So far well — but is there no one you pre- 
 fer to this same Baron of Buckleigh ?" persisted 
 Mr. Fortescue. 
 
 '^ Many !" replied Hester calmly, and that 
 one short word concluded the conference. 
 
64 THE OLD 
 
 " In a multitude there is safety," muttered 
 the guardian to himself, and from that moment 
 he left the affair to take its own course ; for 
 though it was evident the husband had been 
 chosen, without her will or wish, it was equally 
 evident she had made no choice of her own, and 
 so he said no more. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I never saw a bridal but my eyelid has been wet, 
 
 And it always seemed to me, as though a joyous crowd were 
 
 met, 
 To see the saddest sight of all, a gay and girlish thing, 
 Lay aside her maiden gladness, for a name, and for a ring. 
 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 Hester Sibley was married — there was pomp 
 and state enough to have served a nobler wed- 
 ding still, but it accorded with the taste of both 
 the bridegroom, and the bride's mother, and 
 therefore as the long procession moved into the 
 village church, Lady Hester looked proud and 
 pleased, for . the bells rang merrily, and the 
 
66 THE OLD 
 
 village children strewed flowers in the path, 
 till the guests walked on nothing but crushed 
 roses. 
 
 Hester was married in a hat and habit, and 
 parted from her family in the vestry of the 
 church ; therefore even the mirthful twins were 
 tearful on that day, as they stood as bride's- 
 maidens pale and awed, behind the Lady Ran- 
 dall of Buckleigh. 
 
 Long tables were spread for the breakfast in 
 the gallery of Abbeylans, and those whose 
 religion had excluded them from the church 
 ceremony, arrived with several other families 
 of the neighbourhood, to sit at the board in 
 honour of the occasion. 
 
 On the opposite side of the table to the 
 Lorimers, sat Lady Anne Evelyn, her eyes 
 quietly glancing from one to another, busily 
 and silently occupied in making her observa- 
 tions. 
 
 '* And who," asked she as she turned to 
 Henry Fortescue by her side, '*is that Mr. 
 
DOWER HOUSE* 67 
 
 Raynier, apparently so attentive to my gentle 
 namesake opposite ?" 
 
 " I refer you to Lady Hester," answered 
 the young Fortescue with a smile, " I know 
 little of him, and beg to tell you, you ha^e 
 mistaken the twins as every one else does — 
 that pretty creature is the frisky Mabel." 
 
 " Mabel !" exclaimed Lady Anne, " Mabel 
 with no smile on her face, and her eyes full of 
 tears ? Where then is Anne ?" 
 
 But Anne was not forthcoming — poor gentle 
 Anne was overcome with grief, and she was 
 not present at that wedding breakfast; neither 
 was it till the guests had departed, and their 
 numbers limited to themselves — the For- 
 tescues, and Lady Anne Evelyn, who was to 
 spend a few days at Abbeylans, that she re- 
 appeared on the scene ; and then as they sat 
 round the supper table. Lady Anne suddenly 
 exclaimed — 
 
 *' Oh ! by the bye. Lady Hester, do tell me 
 who is Mr. Clement Raynier ?" 
 
68 THE OLD 
 
 Lady Hester did not pause an instant in 
 replyino^, though her voice was cold, and 
 formal ; for she saw Guy ready to rise up in 
 arms, to seize the words of explanation as 
 quickly as ever she could breathe them. 
 
 " Mr. Raynier has been resident for some 
 time in the Lorimer family, Lady Anne, and 
 was originally the travelling companion of the 
 two young men." 
 
 '* And as excellent a fellow as ever stepped," 
 cried Guy, taking advantage of the pause. 
 
 "Oh, Tutor!" said Lady Anne with an 
 almost imperceptible curl of the lip. 
 
 " Tutor ! not he !" was Guy's warm reply, 
 as he refuted the charge with more prompt- 
 ness than politeness — •* he is quite independent, 
 only they like him, and can't do without him ; 
 besides he is old Lorimer's ward, so where 
 should he be but at the Priory ?" 
 
 *' That is right, Guy," said Mr. Fortescue, 
 if you are a friend at all, be a zealous 
 one." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 69 
 
 " Now do you know why I asked the ques- 
 tion, my reverend sir?" laughed Lady Anne, 
 as she glanced from Lady Hester's compressed 
 lip to Guy's fiery eyes, and the deepening 
 colour of the twins, and felt inwardly amused 
 at the visible commotion. 
 
 '' I don't know," said Guy in a tone of 
 voice which sounded like " I don't care," 
 " I only know that my mother dislikes 
 them all, and so I always take their part." 
 
 " Amiable and dutiful — right or wrong, I 
 suppose !" retorted Lady Anne, who appeared 
 to say anything that first came into her 
 head ; '* but the reason I asked was this — I 
 was struck by his being so remarkably hand- 
 some, and I did not recollect him as of our 
 society; he is a Catholic — a Roman Catholic 
 of course ?" 
 
 Before more than a short affirmative could 
 be uttered, a servant entered to summon Guy 
 to a private audience, and Lady Hester, who 
 was worried, fatigued, and nervous that even- 
 
70 THE OLD 
 
 ing, immediately thought something was the 
 matter in the establishment, which elicited 
 from her son only an irritated reply, that it 
 was nothing she need disquiet herself about, 
 as it no doubt entirely concerned himself. 
 
 The group broke up early, for they were 
 all wearied by the events of the day, and 
 were not sorry to retire to their several apart- 
 ments. Guy did not re-appear, but as his 
 mother sat in her room, she could watch his 
 light glimmering in his den in the loft, and 
 secretly wished for the moment when it would 
 be extinguished. 
 
 Hour after hour however chimed, and still 
 she could see his shadow now and then darken- 
 ing the window — then the light would disap- 
 pear, as though he had carried it to some other 
 part of the loft ; and then again came its faint 
 glimmers, till even in her easy chair her 
 heavy eyelids closed, and sleep overtook her. 
 It was a restless, uneasy sleep, for whenever 
 Guy prolonged his stay in that room, she was 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 71 
 
 miserable. He was so utterly careless and 
 thoughtless, that the impression uppermost in 
 her mind was, that he would one day set the 
 offices on fire. 
 
 When she awoke, it was grey morning, and 
 the first object she saw, was Guy crossing the 
 court yard. 
 
 '' Oh, Guy !" said she the next day, in 
 that grieved voice which she never condes- 
 cended to assume to her other children — ''how 
 could you remain the whole of last night in 
 the stable ? Surely, knowing my uneasiness, 
 and my unconquerable dread of fire, you 
 might spare my feelings a little more than 
 you do !" 
 
 *' Why, mother !" was Guy's astonished 
 answer, '* how could you know I was there all 
 night? and besides if I was, do you think a 
 man with a house of his own, is such a child, 
 as not to be trusted about by himself with a 
 candle ?" 
 
72 
 
 THE OLD 
 
 '' Had you a lamp, Guy, it would save me a 
 world of alarm," pleaded her ladyship. " I 
 am sure last night, as I watched you moving 
 so near those beams and rafters, with your 
 candle carried obliquely, I wondered in my 
 heart how your parsonage has survived so 
 long!" 
 
 *' Pshaw," muttered Guy, " even if I did set 
 anything on fire, I could put it out I suppose ; 
 but do you mean to say, mother, you always 
 amuse yourself in your room, with watching 
 me in the loft ?" 
 
 '' Oblige me, Guy, by the easy promise, 
 that you will not sit up there after midnight !" 
 persisted Lady Hester. " You may call your 
 mother weak and foolish, but I have not nerves 
 sufficient to stand the constant state of anxiety 
 in which you keep me. Could you not place 
 your gunpowder in some safer spot than the 
 hayloft?^' 
 
 '* Oh, if that's all," said Guy, *' it need not 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 73 
 
 be there at all. I'll place it in the river if you 
 please, for I shall not shoot any more whilst 
 I am here. As to the light and the candle 
 last night, I was very anxious about that 
 little spaniel of mine; and if he continues 
 as ill as he was then, I must sit up again, 
 mother, in spite of your nerves !" 
 
 By the time the last sentence was uttered, 
 the family had gradually assembled round the 
 breakfast table, and on the faces of three 
 sat a sort of smile, at the idea of Lady Hester 
 Sibley and her nerves. 
 
 To Mr. Fortescue, who had known her in 
 her younger days, when she was just as 
 haughty, and as apparently invulnerable to 
 human feeling, and human weakness, as she 
 was now, the idea of her son accusing her 
 of *' nerves," was somewhat amusing — and 
 between Lady Anne Evelyn, and Henry 
 Fortescue, a look passed, which seemed to say, 
 that in their eyes, the idea was somewhat 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 THE OLD 
 
 ridiculous ; but as the conversation was in- 
 stantly dropped when they entered, they did 
 not know what had given rise to the expression 
 in question. 
 
 There was little peace in Abbeylans during 
 the illness of Guy's valuable spaniel — from 
 morning till night, the assistance, attention, 
 and sympathy of every individual in the house, 
 was called into requisition, and Mab and Anne 
 were at last summoned by their brother, to 
 visit the stable and its invalid. 
 
 In a comfortable bed of straw, inside a corn 
 box, lay the beautiful little dog, so petted 
 and so prized, surrounded by every luxury 
 which Guy's affection for it could suggest. 
 
 '' For you have been a tried and a true 
 old friend to me, my Jewel, have you not?" 
 said he, as he stroked the glossy head, and 
 smoothed the silken ears. 
 
 The little creature seemed grateful for the 
 notice, and raised its dim and glassy eyes. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 7. 
 
 with a glance that tried to be bright, as 
 it eagerly essayed to lick Guy's carressing 
 hand. 
 
 It was one of the most diminutive of its 
 species — exquisitively beautiful too, and per- 
 fect in every attribute which constitutes a 
 spaniel of King Charles's breed. 
 
 " And yet, my Jewel, I must lose you," 
 was Guy's lamentation as he sat grieved as 
 a child by its side. " We must part, old 
 friend — mustn't we ? — though it's cruel work ?" 
 
 Mab, whose heart was overflowing at the 
 sight of the patient suffering of their favorite, 
 thought her brother well excused for his de- 
 voted care and watchfulness. 
 
 " And if it recovers," she said, '* it will be 
 fonder of you than ever." 
 
 " It will not — it cannot recover," sighed 
 Guy mournfully, as he again stroked the head 
 of his dying pet, and lifted the mass of ringlets 
 which hung from its ears — " look at it, Mab! 
 — look at its affectionate eyes — and how 
 E 3 
 
76 THE OLD 
 
 faintly it tries to lick my hand — poor Jewel ! 
 people won't know me without you by me, old 
 fellow ! for many and many's the visit I've 
 paid with you in my pocket ! — and yet, Mab, 
 my mother blames me for sitting up half a 
 night, to try and save the life of such a dog 
 as this !" 
 
 My mother remarked in dwelling on this 
 episode, that Guy's room, in the loft, was quite 
 a drawing-room during the illness of this little 
 dog, for every one seemed to share in his in- 
 terest, and came to recommend new and 
 varied modes of treatment — Lady Hester her- 
 self deigned to ascend the perpendicular stair, 
 or ladder rather, once in the course of that 
 day, to see, what was supposed to be the last of 
 Jewel — though Anne Evelyn slyly whispered 
 to Henry Fortescue, it w^as only because she 
 had just seen young Lorimer and Clement 
 Raynier cross the court, on the same errand of 
 sympathy. 
 
 " It must die, I tell you," were Guy's part- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. /7 
 
 ing words as the family separated for the night, 
 and vexation had turned him cross and im- 
 patient, '* it must die, so don't teaze me, 
 mother, about lamps and candles. I'll watch it 
 by moonlight rather than not watch it at all, 
 for before the sun rises again, it must be 
 dead" 
 
78 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Such is the hour, yet not a sound is hearcl^ 
 No sights are seen, no melancholy bird 
 Sings tenderly and sweet ; but all the air 
 Is thick and motionless, as if it were 
 A prelude to some dreadful tragedy. 
 
 ' John Neal. 
 
 Lady Hester construed this speech, with the 
 words, '' lamps and candles" into something 
 like a tacit promise, that Guy would substitute 
 the moon for them during his vigil, and when 
 about midnight he passed her door, she felt 
 more relieved than sorry, on hearing that the 
 precious spaniel had breathed its last. 
 
 All was now profoundly quiet, and Abbeys- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 79 
 
 lans and its inhabitants were wrapped in deep 
 repose, so Lady Hester sought her pillow. 
 As she extinguished her lamp, and then went 
 to close the boudoir door, from which she was 
 wont to watch Guy in his hay-loft, she was 
 surprised, but not startled, at seeing a kind 
 of glimmer, and an unequal, varying, red light 
 in his " den." She watched for some minutes, 
 inwardly wondering, (if he had returned to the 
 stables) how it was she had not heard him pass 
 her door — and then the next moment, she 
 decided in her own mind, it must be fancy, for 
 all was again darkness. 
 
 An hour, perhaps two, might have elapsed 
 from this time, and Lady Hester's sleep had 
 been so restless, and her dreams so troubled 
 that she finally rose, and paced her room. The 
 night was hot, and the air felt close to her, so 
 her next step was to open the boudoir door, 
 and advance to the window. As she did so, 
 she cast her eyes on the gable end of the 
 
80 THE OLD 
 
 offices, and the sight that met her gaze paralized 
 her. 
 
 Like a statue she seemed rooted to the 
 ground — she could not speak — she could not 
 move. There stood the long, dark building, 
 telling out, even from the darkened, starless 
 sky, but not standing as heretofore in gloom 
 and heavy stillness. 
 
 From window to window ran a light — it was 
 no fancy now ! — lights were in every window 
 of that gable end — not lights only, but a bright 
 red glare of hay, and beams and rafters, 
 all apparently in one wild blaze of flames 
 within. 
 
 Even as she gazed, though hardly an instant 
 had sped, since first she saw the awful sight, 
 the flames had grown to fury, and the first 
 window — the window of Guy's very room fell 
 in! 
 
 Out poured the smoke like steam, with the 
 tongues of fire, curling round the building, and 
 
BOWER HOUSE. 81 
 
 swiftly mounting to the top, and as Lady 
 Hester's piercing shriek rang down the gallery 
 of Abbeylans, the rush of feet, and the loud 
 shout of " Fire !" told that the whole house 
 had suddenly become aware of the awful trath^- 
 that the stables were in flames, and the Dower 
 House itself, from its unlucky proximity, in 
 instant and imminent danger ! Water, owing 
 to alongjdry summer, happened at this time to be 
 particularly scarce — the springs were failing in 
 all quarters, and the river, which was two miles 
 oiF, had in several places run partially dry — the 
 wind too, set in the immediate direction of the 
 Dower House ; and thus it seemed as if fate 
 itself were against old Abbeylans, that awful 
 night. 
 
 The public rooms, and the most valuable of 
 the galleries, were too far removed from the 
 burning offices to be in danger, but the wing 
 in which Lady Hester's, and all the bed-rooms 
 of the family, were situated, were within fifty 
 feet of one end of the stables ; and thus the 
 E 5 
 
82 THE OLD 
 
 flames blown by the wind, came sweeping the 
 very windows, and lapping the walls, as it 
 were, of Lady Hester's boudoir. 
 
 Loud and terrific was the sound of the 
 alarum bell of Abbeylans that night, and 
 though the villagers flocked in hundreds to the 
 spot, still, either from ignorant or wilful mis- 
 management, the solitary engine emitted only 
 a feeble and powerless stream of water. Li 
 this extremity, the friendship of their nearest 
 neighbours was shown to the Sibley family 
 in its true colours. With cool and active 
 presence of mind, the Lorimers, who were the 
 first on the spot, assisted in at once removing 
 the terrified horses. This was no sooner done, 
 than their own engine, belonging to the pri- 
 vate chapel, where the constant burning of 
 tapers required some such precaution, arrived, 
 and poured a full and powerful flood of water 
 on the burnino* buildino;. 
 
 In the hall of Abbeylans, surrounded by the 
 female members of the family, sat Lady Hester 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 83 
 
 Sibley. There was a large, glass door at the 
 extremity of the hall, through which she could 
 see the volume of smoke, and the glare of fire, 
 and on that, in speechless anguish, her eyes were 
 fixed. 
 
 By her side was Mrs. Lorimer, vainly en- 
 treating her to be conveyed to the Priory, 
 until the fire had subsided. Abbeylans was 
 already filled, almost to suffocation, with smoke 
 — but — shaking from head to foot — terrified 
 and unnerved, and yet replying to Mrs. Lori- 
 mer's w\irm solicitations, by the most cutting 
 refusals that politeness could frame — there sat 
 Lady Hester deadly pale and trembling vio- 
 lently. At last Guy dashed into the hall. My 
 mother describes his appearance amongst them, 
 at that moment, as being singularly charac- 
 teristic, for though every feature bore witness 
 of his agitation, and the smell of fire, strong 
 upon him, showed that he had been in the 
 front of the danger, he held beneath his arm a 
 favorite and valuable terrier, whilst its two 
 
84 THE OLD 
 
 puppies, miraculously extricated from the 
 manger, were half hanging out of the capacious 
 pocket of his shooting jacket. 
 
 To have noticed this trivial circumstance in 
 this hour of distress, shows how strangely 
 trifles divert the mind, even in the most awful 
 positions. 
 
 He rushed into the hall, followed by Henry 
 Fortescue, and Mr. Kaynier, and breathlessly 
 implored his mother, to avail herself of Mrs, 
 Lorimer's kindness, and instantly fly to the 
 Priory. 
 
 " You must. Madam ! you must !" he cried, 
 " the Priory carriage is at the door. Hal and 
 Raynier will take charge of the girls down the 
 avenue — you must go, mother! Abbeylans is 
 no longer safe — the water is failing us, and the 
 flames are gaining ground — Mother," he added 
 in a lower voice as he grasped her arm, '^ forget 
 in such an hour, pride and prejudice — be noble 
 — be generous — go, mother !" 
 
 '' Never !" was Lady Hester's answer, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. S5 
 
 though her voice was changed, and terror 
 seemed to have paralized her limbs — '* whilst 
 the Dower House stands, this is my place — 
 here have I lived, and from hence I do not. 
 stir — if there be danger, remove your sisters. 
 I give them leave to go — but for me, here I 
 stay !" 
 
 But the twins clung to their mother, and 
 would not hear of flight without her, though 
 at that instant the crash of the falling roof of 
 the stables, echoed loudly through the cloistered 
 walls. 
 
 All this time the alarum bell kept ringing, as 
 a signal for more assistance, and the engine 
 from the neighbouring town was momentarily 
 expected. It was a night never to be forgotten 
 — and the most fearful moment was that, in 
 which Guy again dashed through the hall, and 
 winding his arm round his mother's waist, 
 raised her from her seat with these words, 
 
 " It is too late to argue, mother — it is all 
 over with us. Abbeylans itself has caught !" 
 
86 THE OLD 
 
 Lady Hester rose as though struck by some 
 sudden blow. She clasped her hands, and 
 raised them above her head, and staggering 
 forward a few steps, fell senseless in the arms 
 of her son. 
 
 In this state she was conveyed to the Priory. 
 Guy insisted on her removal there on his own 
 authority — he promised to take all the blame, 
 " and hurried his sisters after her. Lady Anne 
 Evelyn had fortunately returned to Castle 
 Evelyn the preceding day. 
 
 When he announced in his frantic haste that 
 '' Abbey lans itself had caught," he was so far 
 rio'ht, though the arrival of the town engine 
 
 7 D 
 
 speedily extinguished the burning corner of the 
 house, and saved its venerable walls — not a 
 stone of them suffered, although they were 
 blackened beyond the aid of art or time, for 
 even to this hour, there are brown and black 
 stains on the back of the Dower House, which 
 bear record of the night of the fire. 
 
 When Lady Hester Sibley revived to con- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 87 
 
 sciousness, she appeared instantly to understand 
 where she was, although none of the Lorimers 
 were in the room. Anne, her daughter, was 
 kneeling by her side, and Mabel, mounted on 
 the bed, was chafing her mother's temples with 
 eau de luce. Her first words, gasping and in- 
 distinct, were for Abbeylans and its fate, and 
 when she heard that there was every hope, that 
 not a corner would be materially injured, she 
 closed her eyes, and a moisture most, strange 
 and unusual to them, glistened on the trem- 
 bling lashes. 
 
 All had happened in so short a time, and it 
 still seemed so like a dream, that Lady Hester 
 was bewildered — although with a delicacy 
 which did not pass totally unappreciated, she 
 found her own servants in attendance on her, *' f 
 
 when she was heard to be moving about the 
 room. 
 
 In the course of the day, after a long and 
 secret interview with Guy, of which no one 
 knew the particulars^ Lady Hester went of her 
 
88 THE OLD 
 
 own accord to Mrs. Lorlmer, closely followed 
 by her daughters, like train bearers, and with a 
 grace and courtesy, at which even they were 
 astonished, she made her acknowledgments, 
 for the prompt and invaluable assistance ren- 
 dered by the Lorimer family in general. 
 
 Mrs. Lorimer, it was said, was sensibly 
 touched by this. She had hardly words to 
 offer in return, but she succeeded in expressing 
 an earnest hope, that Lady Hester and her 
 whole retinue, would not think of leaving the 
 Priory, until the atmosphere of Abbeylans had 
 been purified ; for on the evening of that day, 
 the offices were still smoking, and the smell of 
 fire could be distinguished for miles, although 
 not a spark was to be seen. 
 
 But this was a plan very far from Lady 
 Hester's intentions. She did not mean to 
 allow the country to say, that she had even 
 spent a night under the Priory roof ; so that 
 evening, when the chapel bell was sounding its 
 silvery tone. Lady Hester and her daughters 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 89 
 
 were wending their way back to Abbeylans. 
 It is true there was little sleep for any of them, 
 for Lady Hester was too ill, with the effects of 
 terror and agitation, to be left for a moment, 
 and Guy paced the court-yard like a sentinel 
 all night, with other watchers, lest the fire 
 should again break out — but still they were at 
 Abbeylans— at home— and the lady of the 
 Dower House was comparatively happy. 
 
90 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Pride hath no other glass 
 To shew itself, but pride. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 To a woman of Lady Hester Sibley's disposi- 
 tion, nothing could be more painful, than the 
 oppressive sense she entertained, of the obliga- 
 tions under which she and her family were 
 placed, with re<2[ard to the Lorimers, Those 
 obligations had not even ceased when she so 
 abruptly left their roof, for her horses were 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 91 
 
 obliged to remain in the Priory stables, owing 
 to there being no accommodation in the village, 
 for so large a retinue, as her own, and those of 
 her guests composed. 
 
 She chafed under these aggravated evils, and 
 could hardly bear to go to the windows, and see, 
 across the court-yard, the desolation of the 
 scene beyond. 
 
 Guy, now that the mischief was all committed 
 — now that except burning Abbeylans itself to 
 the ground, nothing remained to be done — was 
 a pattern of humble submission and abject 
 penitence. 
 
 He entreated his mother to make his parson- 
 age in Leicestershire her home, till Abbeylans 
 was restored to its pristine perfection, and the 
 proposal, coming at that moment, found favour 
 in her sight. 
 
 " It is the only return I can make for my 
 unpardonable fault," said he, whilst urging his 
 invitation — " for I blush to own to you, 
 
92 THE OLD 
 
 Madam, that my circumstances do not permit, 
 of my offering to rebuild the stables." 
 
 Lady Hester heard this last sentence in 
 silence, and it gave her a turn, for it was the 
 first time she had ever received a hint from his 
 lips, as to any embarrassment of affairs. 
 
 Lady Hester was one who took all those 
 sort of things deeply and earnestly to heart, 
 although she said little at the time. She 
 brooded over every trifle, even till it grew 
 to magnitude, and after calculating for many 
 hours over the words of her son, she came to 
 the conclusion, that extravagance was a sin 
 to be added to the catalogue of his failings; 
 for how otherwise could he spend an income 
 of eleven hundred a year ? However, Guy's 
 invitation was accepted, and preparations for 
 leaving the Dower House commenced. Lady 
 Hester seemed to improve in health and spirits 
 as the day of her departure drew nigh, but 
 not so the merry Mabel. Mabel was silent 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 93 
 
 and abstracted, and she loved better wander- 
 ing by herself in the woods, than riding out 
 with Anne and her brother Guy. She did 
 not like leaving Abbeylans, though she dared 
 not say so, and she did not know how long 
 was to be the term of their absence, for she 
 did not presume to ask. 
 
 Respect towards superiors and seniors, was 
 carried to such an excess in the Sibley family, 
 that these two light-hearted girls, would have 
 been reprimanded and silenced, had they ven- 
 tured to commence a conversation in their 
 mother's presence, unless she had previously 
 introduced the subject ; thus a direct question 
 as to her plans for the future, was a familiarity 
 of which not even Mab was capable. 
 
 " And yet we should be happier if we knew 
 the term of our trial," said a low toned voice 
 at Mab's ear, the evening before the Sibleys 
 v,ere to leave. 
 
 •' You will hear of us," was her subdued 
 and sorrowful reply. 
 
94 TUE OLD 
 
 '* Ah, Mabel ! what cold consolation !" 
 It was evening — it was almost dusk — those 
 young footsteps were lingering by the gate, 
 that divided the Priory from Abbeylans — it 
 was the evening on which they had agreed to 
 have their last meeting, and he who stood so 
 grieved by Mabel's side, was no other than 
 Clement Raynier. 
 
 Hearts had been lost and won in those meet- 
 ings which had begun so accidentally ; yet 
 carefully had each guarded the secret from 
 each other, until the night of the fire, and then 
 the smothered feelings found language from 
 the lips of one, and Mabel heard those words, 
 which no woman ever forgets — which are 
 seared on her heart till her dying day — the 
 words of love from the first beloved ! And 
 after that, it took but a few days for the whole 
 to be told — for all the secret love of lingering 
 months, to be breathed at once ; and Mabel, 
 with her deep, warm heart, stood still, entranced 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 95 
 
 and wrapt, as in a dream, whilst the low-toned 
 voice of Clement Raynier spent its music on 
 her ear ! 
 
 The young girl was in a dream — she had 
 no thought of coming ill — her mother's horror 
 of the Lorimers and every one connected with 
 them, never crossed her imagination during this 
 dream ; for with Clement Raynier by her side, 
 fervently speaking of his love, and his hopes, 
 and his future prospects, which were to brighten 
 on the death of some distant relative, she 
 thoucrht of nothing else. 
 
 Lovino: and beloved, she believed all would 
 go smoothly ; she believed, that when wealth 
 came to Clement Raynier, her nuptials would 
 proceed as quietly as did those of her sister 
 Hester and Lord Randall — for how could she 
 raise her eyes to his open countenance, and 
 look upon his dear, smiling brow, and the 
 strange and perfect beauty of his expression, 
 and think the while, that one so gifted, should 
 
96 THE OLD 
 
 Kot be a welcome son even to the Lady Hester 
 Sibley. 
 
 " Albeit, my Mabel," said Mr. Eaynier 
 mournfully, '' my fears gain ground, and I 
 know not, whether it were not wise to suffer 
 me to write to Lady Hester, so that o letter 
 reach her on your arrival at your brother's 
 parsonage." 
 
 " It were unwise, indeed, indeed !" was 
 Mabel's quick reply^ — " trust the subject with 
 my brother Guy, but not in a letter — oh not 
 in a letter to Mamma, for 1 should die to hear 
 it read !" 
 
 " Nay, then you have also fears, Mabel^" 
 
 said Eaynier with a smile — " fear on, my 
 
 merry love ! for it will make me bold ! Then 
 
 Guy shall hear it all this very night — is that 
 
 your wish ?" 
 
 " Hardly that either," murmured Mabel, 
 shrinking as the men ent of eclair cissementseeir.ed 
 approaching — '' I would wish that all should 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 97 
 
 be — I know not what !— I cannot tell — how 
 should I, Clement ?" 
 
 '* Were it wise then to wait ?" asked Clement, 
 fixing his eyes steadily on the beautiful face 
 before him — '' were it wisest, my Mabel, to wait 
 until you all return ? — one word — -just one ! 
 were that best ?" 
 
 *' May be it were," said Mabel hurriedly, 
 as the sound of the curfew bell echoed through 
 the woods, and she knew it was the hour of 
 supper in ahe Dower House — " 'twere best — 
 'twere wisest, Clement — farewell !" she added 
 as she turned away with a trembling voice, 
 and held out her hand — " farewell, Clement !" 
 
 '^ Farewell, alas !" exclaimed Clement Ray- 
 nier, as he caught the struggling hands, and 
 clasped ttiem to his lips. " Farewell, Mabel ! 
 — Good angels keep thee — the saints protect 
 thee !" and the next moment the little gate 
 jarred on its hinges, and Mabel flew through 
 the shrubberies, up the garden terraces, and 
 darted into the house. 
 
 TPL. I, F 
 
98 THE OLD 
 
 Although the supper bell had not yet rung, 
 Anne was not in their bed-room — it was un- 
 usual for her to seek the dining-room, until 
 that summons had sounded, but for once 
 Mabel felt her absence a relief — she could 
 sit down and breathe — she could think over the 
 scene of the last hour — she could recall 
 the looks, the words, the tones once more, and 
 clasping her hands on her eyes, she could 
 fancy she saw him once again, whilst those 
 hands, so tightly clasped, were keeping back 
 her tears. 
 
 And in the silence of her chamber, Clement 
 Kaynier's last words came back upon her with 
 a strange, chill feeling, for they had awakened 
 a recollection in her mind, which had long lain 
 dormant. 
 
 *' The saints protect thee !" 
 
 Who but a Roman Catholic would have used 
 those words? 
 
 " The saints protect thee !" 
 
 Mabel shuddered— he whom she loved beit 
 
DOWEB HOUSE. 99 
 
 ia the world, had in that expression, consigned 
 her to a care, which her religious principles 
 taught her was inefficient, and to a power 
 which her church did not acknowledge. She 
 missed the fervency, the comfort of the simple 
 words, '' God bless thee !" and her young and 
 romantic feelings received, in that moment, 
 their first shock. She did not feel as though 
 he had blessed her — and then again came love 
 to blind her judgment, and blunt her keen, 
 quick principles, for had he not committed her 
 to a care, which he looked on as all powerful ? 
 
 '' Good angels keep thee ! The saints pro- 
 tect thee, Mabel !" 
 
 In the silence of that evening, rang those 
 words so solemnly pronounced, and when the 
 summons sounded, for the meeting of the family 
 in the drawing room, Mabel woke from her 
 bewildered dream, and collected her scattered 
 senses sufficiently to enter the long gallery, 
 with the accustomed air, and the prescribed 
 F 3 
 
100 THE OLD 
 
 curtsey as she approached the presence of her 
 mother. 
 
 The conversation flagged that evening round 
 the social board of the Dower House, for no 
 one seemed in spirits, and even Harry Fortes- 
 cue was low. 
 
 When Anne raised her large, soft eyes, and 
 met an answering glance from ]\Iabel, tears 
 shone on the lashes of each, and Guy was 
 leaning back in his chair, with an expression 
 of gloom very foreign to his features. Old 
 Mr. Fortescue slept in an easy chair, whilst 
 stiff and erect opposite to him, sat Lady 
 Hester in a high backed, tapestry piece of 
 furniture, with something very like a smile 
 curling rnind her lips. In fact she appeared 
 the only one of the group at all at her 
 ease ; and though she did not pause for 
 answers, still she continued talking of all 
 manner of subjects, until Mr. Fortescue, 
 v.aking up, began to suspect she was in 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 101 
 
 reality restless and uneasy, and wishing to 
 conceal it. 
 
 A person suddenly rousing himself from 
 sleep, rarely seizes the first word, that greets 
 his waking senses, correctly , and Mr. Fortescue 
 fancied Lady Hester was talking of the Lori- 
 mers, so he added as she paused — 
 
 " Yes, I confess I am agreeably disappointed 
 in that family— the more one sees of the 
 Lorimers, the more they gain one's good 
 opinion." 
 
 Lady Hester gave him a look such as her 
 eyes only could give, and drew herself up with 
 stern dignity. 
 
 '' Mr. Fortescue, you surprise me — how very 
 differently we feel on this point ! My opinion 
 of them from the first hour of our acquaint- 
 ance, remains unchanged, and I never liked 
 them. There is but one," she added haughtily, 
 " of all that party, towards whom I am dis- 
 posed to look, with a kind of favourable pity, 
 and that is the victim of whom they took so 
 
102 THE OLD 
 
 unfair an advantage. 1 consider Mr. Raynier 
 more sinned against than sinning, in the path 
 which he so blindly treads." 
 
 *' I beg to make a remark here. Madam," 
 interposed Guy. *' Clement Raynier was not 
 unfairly dealt by when he took the religion of 
 the Lorimers. He had arrived at years of 
 discretion, and has told me fifty times, he did 
 it with the perfect approval of his own con- 
 science." 
 
 *' Sad I" exclaimed Lady Hester, with a 
 look of horror, *' then I pity him the more as 
 a benighted victim. You rob me, by that ex- 
 planation, of the cloak with which I was 
 endeavouring to shelter him. I had hopes that 
 when no longer a dependant under the roof of 
 those people, he might see the right way, and 
 follow it." 
 
 " Then, madam, you wrong him," said Guy 
 angrily — '' for though as a clergyman I condemn 
 and reprehend the forms of his religion, I had 
 rather," he continued, " to profess them, than 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 103 
 
 to think so ill of him, as to believe be weai^s 
 a garment from necessity, and worldly motives, 
 which he will cast off at the first convenient 
 opportunity !" 
 
 '^ Sad — most sad !" was all Lady Hester 
 deigned to reply, and rising they parted for 
 the night. 
 
 No sooner had the twins gained the solitude 
 of their own room, than Mab was at the feet 
 of Anne — her head buried in her sister's lap, 
 and her heart poured out in one flow of in- 
 coherent confession ! 
 
 She could bear secrecy no longer — she was 
 oppressed by the long and painful concealment 
 of her feelings; and thus that last night at 
 Abbey lans, did she confide to her sister's 
 gentle ear, the tale to which poor Anne sat 
 and listened, with terror, astonishment and 
 dismay pictured on her countenance. 
 
 " For in truth !" she exclaimed, as she 
 wrung her hands, and spoke with unusual 
 energy — " no love on earth could ever be 
 
104 THE OLD 
 
 SO vaioly placed ! Mabel ! Mabel ! whatever 
 Mama may this night have insinuated in his 
 favour, depend upon it she never dreamt of 
 this ! — believe me it will come upon her like 
 a thunder bolt ! Hope not, Mabel ! — it is 
 hoping against hope — fear on ! fear to the very 
 last, for there is no hope /" — — ^ 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 105 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The earth hath bubbles, and he is of them. 
 
 Shaksfeare. 
 
 Directly the Dower House was cleared of its 
 inhabitants, the villagers came in flocks to look 
 at the ruined stables, and make remarks. 
 Many made illnatured ones, for Lady Hester 
 had never conciliated friends enough, to ensure 
 sympathy, and it was whispered about the 
 country, that had they been the stables of the 
 Priory, they would not have been so completely 
 burned to the ground. 
 F 5 
 
106 THE OLD 
 
 Then conjectures floated about, as to who 
 would defray the expenses of the new building 
 — people had an idea that Lady Hester's liabi- 
 lities were confined strictly to the Dower 
 House — but all hoped it might not be so. 
 " For," said they, " it were better my lady 
 should pay than young Sir Hugh." 
 
 On the departure of the Sibleys, Henry 
 Fortescue went over to Castle Evelyn, and 
 became the guest of the old earl — it was not 
 long before the country people found room here 
 also, for conversation and conjecture ; for at all 
 hours of the day, the gay cavalcade of eques- 
 trians from Castle Evelyn, stirred up the quiet 
 villagers, by gallopping through the narrow 
 street, to the utter rout and confusion of the 
 children, with their hoops and marbles, and the 
 terror of the various household ducks, which 
 luxuriated in the gutters that adorned each side 
 of the street — and whenever the event came 
 to pass, even if it were twice in the same day, 
 far in advance of the rest, was Henry For- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 107 
 
 tescue on his fiery black charger, and by his 
 side, Lady Anne Evelyn — suffering her pie- 
 bald palfrey to take its way according to its own 
 wild, playful fancy, whilst they talked and 
 laughed, till the echo of their voices outlived 
 the vision of themselves. 
 
 '* And he'll carry her off some day you'll 
 see !" was the remark of many a villager, as 
 they watched the pair turn off up the lane that 
 led to the Downs — '' well mated, and well 
 matched they'll be too ! better than Miss Hester 
 and the Baron of Buckleigh." 
 
 " He's not for her, to my thinking," would 
 be the answer of an opposite party, " its for 
 want of our own Miss Anne, he makes up to 
 her." 
 
 '' And he's not for neither, who knows !" 
 was generally the concluding observation ; and 
 the majority at last sided in this opinion, for 
 the more Harry Fortescue showed himself in 
 the neighbourhood, the more people saw in his 
 air, his manners, his very look, smile, and 
 
108 THE OLD 
 
 laugh, the character of the man, who was 
 running riot amongst the hearts of the county. 
 
 Lady Mildred Evelyn looked, both upon 
 him and her gay young sister, with an eye of 
 the most supreme contempt. 
 
 '* I would not make such a fool of myself," 
 said she one day, with a strong emphasis on the 
 pronoun — possessive— of so much dignity — 
 " it is casting your pearls before swine, for 1 
 do not suppose you would stoop to marry 
 Henry Fortescue !" 
 
 Lady Anne laughed immoderately. 
 
 '' Marry him !" she echoed when the fit had 
 subsided, " do you really imagine, most sapient 
 Mildred, that I would ever wish Harry to 
 marry me, or any one else ?" 
 
 " No one else, I believe you," said her sister 
 spitefully. 
 
 " Nay, believe but this !" added Lady Anne, 
 whose good humour was never even ruffled, 
 '' believe that marriage in his case, would rob 
 the world, of the most perfect flirt that ever' 
 sunned himself in ladies' eyes." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 109 
 
 *' And dazzled yours," murmured Lady Mil- 
 dred. 
 
 " Not so!" continued her sister, bending her 
 head with a mock heroic air, " mine eyes are 
 not so weak — but tell me, Mildred, wherefore 
 call so fair a knight a swine ?" 
 
 " Anne !" exclaimed Lady Mildred rising 
 indignantly, for she never could understand, or 
 tolerate a joke, '' what a word to use ! when 
 did such an expression sully my lips ?" 
 
 " Five minutes ago !" cried Anne, delighted 
 to have roused her sister, " five short minutes 
 ago ! and as I live there comes he on whom 
 you bestowed the epithet I a swine I fie ! what 
 a term !— a pearl say rather sister mine— but 
 now a truce — he comes !" 
 
 '' A truce, indeed !" muttered Lady Mildred 
 swinging her hoop round, in a manner which 
 plainly showed her anger — " a truce to folly were 
 a worthless treaty, where you and he are in the 
 compact," and as she left the room, she rolled 
 her eyes from one to the other, with a look, 
 
no THE OLD 
 
 expressive of reprobation, cautioi), and indig- 
 nation. 
 
 Lady Anne, amongst the numerous pets that 
 she had brought with her from Italy, had an 
 accomplished grey parrot. This bird had been 
 the idol of the convent, and had caught up 
 scraps of divers languages from the different 
 nuns. Giobbe was the name in which it re- 
 joiced, from the pre-eminent patience it had 
 exercised, in overcoming the difficulties of the 
 Italian, German, Latin, and French languages 
 — but not one word of English could it utter. 
 
 " Tant mieuxF said Lady Anne as she 
 lounged on the sofa with the bird on her wrist, 
 whilst Henry Fortescue was whispering his 
 light words in her ear — " thou hast good sense 
 my bird ! English is an ugly language after 
 all, is it not ?" 
 
 " Notwithstanding," answered Henry For- 
 tescue, " there are many expressive phrases in 
 its compass, which Giobbe would do well to 
 learn — what says your ladyship to suffering me 
 to teach it some ?" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. Ill 
 
 " My ladyship says, ' with all my heart,' if 
 Giobbe will only be half as acquiescent as its 
 mistress— but for my part, I think the bird has 
 an antipathy to the English language — I doubt 
 if it would learn." 
 
 " You allow me at all events to try ?" 
 " Most willingly ! wherefore should I not ?" 
 '' I may teach it any sentence I please ? ' 
 '' Nay !" exclaimed Lady Anne starting up, 
 as she caught the sparkle of mirth and mischief 
 in his eye. '' I put certain restrictions — the 
 nuns have been so careful in the selection of 
 Giobbe's sentences, that you must really teach 
 it nothing they would not like to hear it say. 
 I consider that a point of honour, for I assure 
 you, it was a miraculous stretch of frendship, 
 their giving me the bird at all ; it was such a 
 special favorite." 
 
 " If you are only half as pleased with what 
 I shall teach it, as the nuns would be, could 
 they know and hear," answered Henry For- 
 tescue laughing, *' I shall be well repaid for 
 
112 THE OLD 
 
 any trouble that Giobbe may cost — trust me 
 for that, fair lady." 
 
 " Then take him !" said Lady Anne, and 
 she smilingly tossed the parrot from her wrist, 
 " go, hen mio ! and prove yourself Giobbe by 
 nature, as well as by name — your patience will 
 be mightily tried methinks !" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 113 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 She had more loveliness than beauty, 
 Her cheek was as a rainbow, it so changed, 
 As each emotion o'er its surface ranged ; 
 Her face was full of feeling. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 It was at this time that the Lady Bridget 
 Doneraile came to stay at Castle Evelyn, and 
 she had hardly been domiciled a week in 
 the family, before the altered conduct and 
 manners, of her niece, and quondam charge. 
 Lady Anne, filled her with astonishment and 
 dismay. Emancipation from the convent 
 
114 THE OLD 
 
 discipline had wrought a wondrous change 
 on the demure young woman, whom Henry 
 Fortescue had described to the Sibleys, as 
 *' neither pretty, nor merry, but only moder- 
 ately cheerful.'* 
 
 Absolutely pretty she might not be, but 
 hers was a face of such piquante interest, 
 that no one ever thought of saying she was 
 plain. Her nose was retrousse without a doubt, 
 and her mouth was very large ; but then that 
 nose was so gracefully turned, from its des- 
 cent from her high, white forehead, and her 
 teeth were so brilliantly white and even, 
 that people fancied it was not possible to see 
 prettier; then her eyes were grey, but 
 softened by the longest of black lashes, and 
 her luxuriant hair, gathered up to the highest 
 height of fashion, and powdered to a nicety, 
 added to the dignity and grace of her slight, 
 tall figure. Her shoulders had the proper 
 fall, and they were rounded though narrow ; 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 115 
 
 her waist was long, and her feet small, and 
 no one in a minuet ever turned so swanlike 
 a neck, as the Lady Anne Evelyn, as she 
 swam through its mazes with the largest of 
 hoops, and the highest of heels — in short, 
 when once emancipated from the rigorous 
 strictness of the convent, she soon discovered 
 that she was fascinating; and Lady Bridget 
 Doneraile stood aghast with horror, when 
 she saw the flirtation of Henry Fortescue, 
 and heard the laugh of her once staid and 
 quiet niece. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs when Lady 
 Bridget arrived at Castle Evelyn. 
 
 *' Does my brother approve, as well as per- 
 mit it ?" she asked her niece Mildred, one day 
 in a tone of great asperity." 
 
 " Papa laughs," was the reply ; " he is 
 eternally laughing at their noisy and unseemly 
 merriment." 
 
 " Then am I to understand that he is en- 
 couraging Mr. Fortescue in his conduct ?" 
 
116 THE OLD 
 
 " Msthinks he is, aunt Bridget. Would 
 it please your ladyship to join the giddy 
 pair on the lawn ; they are apparently dis- 
 puting." 
 
 Lady Mildred presented her arm, and the 
 two sallied out of the window, upon the noble 
 lawn of Castle Evelyn, where stood Lady Anne 
 with pouting lips, and an averted head, whilst 
 Henry Fortescue bent lowly by her side, in 
 mock humility and covert laughter, with the 
 parrot running backwards and forwards im- 
 patiently on his arm. 
 
 '' Nay, hope it not!" were the words brought 
 by the breeze from Lady Anne's lips, to the 
 ear of her aunt and sister — '' hope no forgive- 
 ness from me." 
 
 " But you gave me leave, full leave, Lady 
 
 Anne." 
 
 s 
 
 ** I did not dream — I could not for a 
 moment imagine, what foul advantage would 
 be taken of that leave. Take Giobbe away !" 
 
 Lady Bridget thought it her bounden duty 
 
DOWER HOI SE. 117 
 
 to enquire into the cause of the dispute, but 
 Anne was out of humour and perversely silent, 
 so would not tell. 
 
 Henry Fortescue, in the meantime, quietly 
 made his obeisance, and took the parrot into 
 the house. His smile the whole of that 
 day was struggling with a laugh, and his eyes 
 carried a gleam of archness in them, most 
 objectionable to Lady Bridget. The mystery 
 ' however was shortly after this solved, though 
 the delinquent escaped detection, by a bold 
 stroke on the part of Lady Anne, who 
 blinded her father, and silenced her aunt and 
 sister; though they f-par 'parenthese) were not 
 blinded — leave women alone for detecting the 
 deceit of each other. 
 
 The Parrot was in the habit of being 
 brought in to dessert for walnuts and bis- 
 cuits, and this custom had of late somewhat 
 fallen off. 
 
 The Earl missed it on one particular day. 
 
118 THE OLD 
 
 and fairly desired it should be brought as 
 usual. 
 
 No sooner was the bird placed on the table, 
 than it commenced articulating with the most 
 fluent distinctness a sentence which it had 
 been taught. 
 
 " Hey day !" exclaimed the old Earl, much 
 delighted, " who taught you English, my boy ? 
 Come here, and say that again. Why, 
 Anne, is this intended as a pleasant surprise 
 for me ?" 
 
 Lady Anne's whole face and throat were 
 crimson, but she instantly answered — 
 
 '' Could I have taught it a fitter speech 
 than that ? You always wished Giobbe 
 would say something in English — so, as its 
 mistress, what sentence could be more gratify- 
 ing to my feelings, than the one it has just 
 uttered ? You must allow that. Papa, though 
 your smile is somewhat supercilious." 
 
 " Right — and not at all vain," laughed the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 119 
 
 Earl. However, it is what I understand at 
 all events." 
 
 And at that moment, whilst two pair of ^ 
 severe eyes were glancing from Lady Anne 
 to Henry Fortescue, the parrot once more 
 screamed — 
 
 '* Sweet Anne ! I love thee !" 
 
 t 
 
120 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I looked upon the hill both far and near, 
 More doleful place did never eye survey. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 "Winter was advancing with rapid strides — the 
 trees were leafless, the whole country hardened 
 bj frost, and the family of the Dower House 
 still Guy Sibley's guests. 
 
 '' What can he do with eleven hundred a 
 year?" 
 
 Such was the question Lady Hester Sibley 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 121 
 
 asked herself, as she sat on a hard, high backed 
 chair in the drawing-room of Guy's parsonage, 
 and glanced round on the cheerless aspect of 
 the apartment. 
 
 The carpet was worn nearly threadbare, and 
 the sun had entirely bleached that part of it, 
 which filled the recess of the window. The 
 blinds were a deep, dingy yellow, and the paper 
 of the room, bore many a stain of damp and 
 dirt — it is true the furniture itself looked 
 bright, and the muslin curtains were snowy 
 white, but that was owing to the frantic efforts 
 of Guy's housekeeper, who insisted on taking 
 off the ragged covers, and putting up clean 
 curtains, when she heard that '^ my Lady 
 Hester" was to honour the house with her 
 presence ; but the good woman's efforts, only 
 tended to make the total shabbinese more ap- 
 parent. 
 
 No time had been given for more to be done, 
 otherwise Mrs. Gillies in her zeal, would fain 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 THE OLD 
 
 have modernized the entire house ; for to see 
 the lady Hester enter so cheerless an abode, 
 was a pain and a grief beyond words, to the 
 ancient housekeeper, who felt herself and her 
 master, disgraced for ever by the neglected 
 appearance of the abode. 
 
 " It passes my comprehension," murmured 
 Lady Hester, " to imagine on what the eleven 
 hundred pounds a year is spent," and it was 
 not for some time that she discovered the 
 truth — it was Anne who so quietly opened 
 her mother's eyes, by remarking on Guy's 
 horses. 
 
 '' Did you ever go into the stables, Mama ?" 
 
 Lady Hester was very much shocked at this 
 question, and expressed herself so ; and Anne, 
 ever timid, almost trembled with nervousness 
 as she answered, 
 
 " But indeed, Mama, human creatures might 
 live in them ; they are not in any way like the 
 stables to which we have been accustomed. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 123 
 
 '^ How do you mean, Anne ? the stables at 
 Abbeylans were always considered as complete 
 as any in the county, and moreover, it seems 
 strange to hear a young lady confess that she 
 ever entered such places ; how have you ac- 
 quired your experience in stables?" 
 
 *' Oh, you know, dear Mama, that Guy is 
 the one, who introduced me within those pre- 
 cincts, and indeed the abode of his horses is well 
 worth seeing." 
 
 Lady Hester's curiosity was excited ; she 
 desired Anne to proceed in her description. 
 
 " Why first, Mama, the tesselated pave- 
 ment is quite beautiful! then there are stalls 
 for twelve horses — four of ours are there, and 
 Guy has a riding horse for his village duties, 
 two lovely black horses for the tandem, and 
 dog cart, three hunters ! and he leaves the 
 empty stalls for the horses of his friends — then 
 if you could only see 'those stalls. There is 
 carved oak about them, just like the cabinets 
 G 3 
 
124 THE OLD 
 
 in the gallery at Abbey lans ; and only think, 
 Mama, there is a groove in the pavement, 
 through which runs a little stream, always 
 pure, and always changing ! indeed it is a 
 luxurious abode, and the horses look so 
 beautiful with their stable clothes of many 
 colours." 
 
 Lady Hester no longer marvelled at the dis- 
 mal state of the Parsonage, nor at the manner 
 in which the eleven hundred a year was spent. 
 She saw her four horses turned out day after 
 day, in a style which showed the ruling passion 
 of the Keverend Guy ; for never, even at 
 Abbeylans, did their coats look so glossy, or 
 their necks so arched, as when driven to the 
 door of the Parsonage house, with Guy's 
 grooms running by their side — it was evident 
 that Guy's whole substance, was spent upon 
 his stabler and their valuable inmates, and irate 
 at such a lavish expenditure. Lady Hester 
 one evening hinted to her son, that it would be 
 
DOWER HOISE. 125 
 
 well for him were he to reform and take a 
 wife. 
 
 Guy treated the subject with infinite con- 
 tempt, and with some degree of anger in his 
 voice answered, 
 
 *' Forgive me, madam, for differing with 
 you, but a wife would be very much in my 
 way, and I hope you will not make a point of 
 my adding so jgreat an incumbrance to my 
 present heavy cares — the parish, the horses, and 
 Mrs. Gillies, are all that I can manage with 
 regularity ; so I pray you inflict no more on me 
 than this." 
 
 Lady Hester was silenced, but she was sorry 
 and uneasy nevertheless. No redress was there 
 she well saw for the grievance ; things must 
 take their course. 
 
 Meanwhile, though but few days had passed, 
 since their residence beneath the Parsonage 
 roof, Anne and Mabel had held many consulta- 
 tions, as to how they should impart the secret 
 touching Clement Raynier, to their brother 
 
126 THE OLD 
 
 Guy, and at last it was arranged that Anne 
 should tell the tale and ask his best advice. 
 
 Guy was one of those, whose ready judg- 
 ment never required a moment's pause for 
 thought — he heard the tale, and saw the 
 winding up, all at the same moment ; and he 
 gave his opinion in a voice of strange agitation. 
 
 " Poor Mab ! — she has sown the wind, and 
 she must reap the whirlwind ! — there is no 
 hope, Anne, as you say, but I will write 
 to him without delay, for I like Raynier 
 better than any fellow I know — I will write 
 and tell him to wait, before he openly declares 
 himself. Leave it all in my hands, and I will 
 see that the best is done ; though, as you just 
 remarked, there is but little hope ! I have an 
 idea that wealth has some weight in my 
 mother's eyes, and if he offers fitting settle- 
 ments, who knows but what she may accept 
 the suit ? at all events tell Mab, poor thing, 
 to hope the worst ; for joy will be but all the 
 sweeter if events turn out well." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 127 
 
 And forthwith Guy despatched his letter 
 to his friend, full of good wishes and warm 
 advice, and sage counsel, that he would 
 wait a brighter hour to risk his fate, than 
 the present — and till the answer arrived, 
 the moments sped wearily with the two 
 sisters. 
 
128 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness 
 And time to speak it in. 
 
 Shaksfear£. 
 
 Clement Raynier's reply came speedily — it 
 overset Guy's clever plans — it firmly and yet 
 humbly, set forth all the anxious hopes that 
 made the writer shrink, from pausing at the 
 present crisis. Mabel's love was won, and 
 Mabel's happiness at stake, and Clement 
 Raynier was resolved to risk his fate the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 129 
 
 moment Abbeylans was tenanted again — a few 
 short weeks would give him an opportunity to 
 plead his cause in person, and he felt it due 
 both to Mabel and himself, to keep silence no 
 longer than was absolutely necessary. 
 
 He wrote in a proud strain, and Guy, though 
 annoyed, was not able to blame him. Kaynier 
 was proud of his love, and proud of the object 
 of it, and would not be dictated to, as to the 
 mode and time of its confession — he felt that 
 the cause was sacred to himself. 
 
 " And they are both as mad as March hares," 
 cried Guy to Anne, when he had finished the 
 perusal, and had read himself up into a passion. 
 *• Mabel is mad to have fallen in love with a 
 man of poor Eaynier's limited circumstances, 
 letting alone his Eoman Catholicism, which 
 between you and myself, Anne, is the most 
 serious bar that we shall have to surmount — 
 and Raynier is mad to offer, before he knows 
 what his prospects are to be ; for how will my 
 mother support the idea, of a long, lingering 
 G 5 
 
130 THE OLD 
 
 engagement, between Mab and a man whom 
 Lady Hester never cordially liked, and who is 
 the inmate of those whom she most cordially 
 detests." 
 
 *' I dare not think !" sighed poor Anne, 
 '' it is a most unfortunate aifair altogether ! 
 particularly just after Hester's brilliant pros- 
 pects and final destiny ! and Mama has been so 
 blind too ! She guarded us so carefully from 
 all the Lorimers, but she never dreamt of sus- 
 pecting danger from our acquaintance with Mr. 
 Raynier." 
 
 Here stood the case for the present, for a 
 visiter arrived at the parsonage, and Guy's 
 volatile thoughts were all off in a new direc- 
 tion. 
 
 The visiter was Henry Fortescue, fresh 
 from Castle Evelyn, and Lady Hester begged 
 to know, if he came of his own accord, or by 
 invitation. 
 
 Guy explained that it was the latter, and 
 her ladyship was in a measure tranquillised, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 131 
 
 but she however gave her daughters a caution 
 that it would not be expedient for them, to be 
 seen riding about with their brother and his 
 guest, in a strange neighbourhood, though they 
 might have done it in their own. 
 
 Anne was not sorry ; for being on horseback 
 was always more terror to her than pleasure, 
 though she was ashamed in a riding family to 
 say so — and as to Mabel, she did not care — it 
 was all the same to her, whether she walked, 
 rode, or was shut up in the ponderous coach 
 with her mother, when day after day the four, 
 fat horses, dragged its stately weight along the 
 dull, wearisome, high roads. 
 
 Guy was infinitely amused at his mother's 
 restrictions, knowing most perfectly from what 
 source they sprung. 
 
 '* Suffer me to tell you once for all, my dear 
 Madam, you need not alarm yourself about 
 Fortescue — never fear his running away with 
 either of my sisters, for he has often told me, 
 that even had he twenty thousand a year, 
 instead of one, he should never find it enough 
 
132 THE OLD 
 
 for the support of more than himself; he is 
 such an extravagant fellow !" 
 
 *' A selfish and illiberal sentiment truly, 
 well worthy of Mr. Henry Fortescue," was all 
 that Lady Hester remarked. 
 
 " An anti-matrimonial sentiment well ap- 
 proved by your reverend son," retorted Guy^ 
 *' for I do not think Fortescue is the man to 
 make any woman happy. I am not a prejudiced 
 friend. I see his faults and failings, just as 
 plainly as I do his fascinations, but if ever he 
 reforms and marries, take my word for it, he 
 makes some desperate love match and surprises 
 every body." 
 
 Lady Hester shook her head — she did not 
 think so. In those days the term " flirt" was 
 not in such general use as now, but the charac- 
 ter then bore the equally significant title of 
 " coquet." 
 
 *' And of such is Master Henry Fortescue," 
 said Lady Hester, with a slight tinge of con- 
 tempt in her tone of voice — " frivolous, vain. 
 
DOWER H0U8E. 133 
 
 and self-confident, albeit he is your friend — 
 such a man, Guy, might fill the county with 
 food for remark and report, without entertain- 
 ing one single sincere or honourable sentiment 
 himself!" 
 
 " An excellent definition of a scoundrel I" 
 muttered Guy. '' I thank you. Madam, in the 
 name of my friend ! — had I known this, your 
 flattering, your liberal opinion of him, had you 
 expressed all this before, I — " 
 
 '* Not so !" interrupted Lady Hester, " I only 
 tell you he is of this order ! I trust he is as 
 yet no very accomplished disciple. I have a 
 sincere regard for his father — indeed for 
 himself, and should be sorry to think that he 
 was — " 
 
 *' Let him but prove himself so— let him 
 but show me you have good foundation for 
 your opinion of him," interrupted Guy, burst- 
 ing as usual into a passion — '* and my friend- 
 ship shall be but a poor protection for him ; 
 I would—" 
 
134 THE OLD 
 
 " My dear Guy, what I have said can 
 scarcely be called an opinion," expostulated 
 Lady Hester, repenting her warmth, when she 
 found how fiercely it had fired her irritable 
 son ; '• but with this impression, I believe 
 myself to be justified— equally justified in 
 taking precautionary methods, for the preven- 
 tion of either of my daughters' names being 
 classed with that of Henry Fortescue. I 
 have had no fault to find with him hitherto 
 — it rests with him how long this blamelessness 
 may last ; but you will oblige me by remem- 
 berinoj all that I have said, for it is of the 
 utmost importance." 
 
 Vain hope ! if Lady Hester ever thought 
 the reckless Guy would but remember half 
 thereof! Vain hope indeed — for Guy had as 
 much and more to think of, and remember, 
 than twice or thrice such heads as his would 
 hold I An hour after this conversation, he 
 had forgotten the whole of it, and had more- 
 over decoyed both his young sisters to a frozen 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 135 
 
 pond within his grounds, where he insisted 
 on teaching each of them to slide, himself 
 supporting Mabel, and Henry Fortescue as 
 usual by the side of gentle Anne. What 
 would the haughty mother have said, had 
 she witnessed this undignified act, and the 
 familiarity which the nature of the amuse- 
 ment induced, between her daughter, and the 
 man she had so recently condemned with the 
 utmost severity ; and towards whom she had 
 enforced the utmost circumspection. Severe 
 were her ideas of decorum — she was a martyr 
 to its influence. 
 
136 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. . 
 
 Thou wert a beam 
 
 Of pleasant beauty on this stormy sea, 
 With just so much of mirth as might redeem 
 Man from the musings of his misery ; 
 Yet ever pensive, like a thing from home. 
 
 Hervey. 
 
 The beauty of Anne and Mabel Sibley made 
 no small sensation in Leicestershire, but the 
 shy backwardness of the pre-occupied Mabel, 
 gained her fewer admirers than her sister, 
 and it was the height of diversion to Guy and 
 his friend, to enumerate to poor, timid Anne, 
 the many speeches made in her favour by the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 137 
 
 gallant members of the hunt, and enjoy her 
 annoyed confusion. 
 
 The admiration however at last proved 
 itself very sincere in one case, for a Squire of 
 high degree in the county, lost his heart to 
 fair Anne Sibley, and laid his wealth and 
 station at her feet. 
 
 Guy was his confidant, and Guy it was 
 who emboldened him to the step, for he had 
 given him frank words and warm wishes, 
 and bid him good speed from the bottom 
 of his heart ; till Squire Eardley Spence was 
 buoyed up into a state of ecstatic certainty, 
 and from the trembling, speechless Anne, 
 he went to Lady Hester herself to a^ait her 
 decision. 
 
 It was strange how different on this occa- 
 sion, was the deportment of her ladyship, to 
 what it had been when Lord Randall wooed 
 and won her daughter Hester. Hester had 
 been given no time, and no choice. She had 
 
138 THE OLD 
 
 been told that Lord Randall was to be her 
 husband ; and he was so. 
 
 Not so Squire Eardley Spence, and fair 
 Anne Sibley — for Anne was treated with the 
 most tender consideration, and Lady Hester, 
 instead of decreeing and commanding, had 
 asked her in a mild low voice, what were her 
 wishes on the subject. 
 
 *' Mine ?" asked Anne, raising her eyes with 
 a look of startled pleasure — " oh, dear mother, 
 surely rather what are yours ?" 
 
 "• Nay, Anne — would yours be mine ?" said 
 Lady Hester in a doubting tone. 
 
 " Dear mother," stammered Anne, looking 
 like a frightened hare, '* at all events I could 
 try that they should be so." 
 
 Lady Hester turned her eyes away, for 
 she felt them swimming in tears, and fear- 
 ful of showing her emotion, she assumed a 
 chilling manner, most awful to her submissive 
 child. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 139 
 
 '^ You would try you say ? Then do you 
 like this Squire Eardley Spence ^" 
 
 *' Oh no, no, no !" cried Anne, and then 
 she stopped, as though too much already had 
 been said. 
 
 " He is worthy, and well born, and rich, 
 my dear Anne !" 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " He has a good estate, and it borders on 
 your brother's small domain as well." 
 
 " Even so, mother — " 
 
 Anne's voice was growing fainter and fainter 
 every time she spoke. 
 
 " They give him a high repute too, Anne, 
 and except that he counts some ten or fifteen 
 summers more than you — I see no great ob- 
 jection to him?" 
 
 The last words were spoken interrogatively, 
 and Anne only lowered her large, white eyelids, 
 for she had compressed her lips into the 
 demure expression, which was held in those 
 days to be the essence of propriety, and in 
 
140 THE OLD 
 
 fact her voice failed her; so she did not 
 attempt to speak till another question was 
 put to her. 
 
 " Come, tell me candidly then, Anne — you 
 wish me to refuse your brother's friend ?" 
 
 " I do not like him, mother," said Anne 
 evasively, and then she recollected that that 
 was the worst reason she could have given, for 
 Hester certainly did not like Lord Randall, 
 yet she married him. 
 
 " You are not required to decide hastily," 
 returned her mother. " Marriage to one so 
 very young as yourself, is not what I advo- 
 cate; unless I thought your happiness were 
 likely to be influenced thereby — it is a serious 
 step ; and so bethink you well before you take 
 it ; the Squire will wait I doubt not — his 
 declaration is as yet but a few hours old — a 
 few more, nay many more, will do no harm, 
 and so I bid you think." 
 
 And thus Lady Hester left her daughter 
 to her own reflections — and a more puzzled, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 141 
 
 perplexed, and annoyed creature never existed 
 than poor Anne Sibley at this moment. 
 
 In the composition of her nature, was one 
 great flaw : she was of an undecided charac- 
 ter, and from her childhood upwards, she 
 had never been able to resolve h^r mind on 
 any single subject, without the aid of another 
 person. Her indecision was a misery to 
 herself, for it gave her a distrust of her own 
 powers, and a fear of doing what she would 
 afterwards have reason to repent of, which 
 was a continual source of disquiet to her. 
 On the present occasion, she flew to Mab the 
 moment the conference with her mother had 
 concluded, and piteously asked her what she 
 ought to do. 
 
 Mab, unlike her sister, was a decided charac- 
 ter, and she instantly recommended that the 
 Squire should be rejected — perhaps there was 
 a touch of selfishness in the advice, but she 
 was entirely and decidedly against the match, 
 
142 THE OLD 
 
 and was surprised at her sister's encouraging 
 the idea of it for a moment. 
 
 *' It almost looks as though you liked 
 him, Anne !" she added in a voice of indig- 
 nation. 
 
 Poor Anne explained that Lady Hester had 
 left it so entirely to her own judgment, that 
 she was sorely puzzled how to act ; and more- 
 over a vague feeling; floated in her mind — 
 built possibly on Hester's example — that it 
 was dutiful to take the first husband that fate 
 and fortune presented to her ; and this feel- 
 ing was strengthened, by having Mabel's case 
 also immediately before her eyes. Anne 
 puzzled herself quite into the idea, that refusing 
 the foxhunter, Squire Eardley Spence, would 
 be breaking through an acknowledged rule and 
 custom ; and all Mab's arguments sounded but 
 as so many temptations to rebellion and dis- 
 obedience. 
 
 Little Mab however was a " deep one " in 
 her way, and when she found poor Anne grow 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 143 
 
 more and more irresolute, she cleverly insinuated 
 a bright idea of her own. 
 
 She did not look up into her sister's face 
 as she was wont to do, but whilst tearing to 
 pieces the allumettes which were on the table 
 before her she said — 
 
 '' I marvel how you can hesitate a mo- 
 ment. In truth I think, if Mama had told 
 you you must take him, you would have 
 found a firmer will, and instantly said no." 
 *' Mayhap I might," sighed Anne. 
 '* Then go to Guy — he wishes it I know." 
 " Nay, Mabel — be serious ! — be quick too, 
 for this evening when we go to bed, my answer 
 must be ready." 
 
 " Say Tifiy," cried Mabel angrily — " say 
 nay at once, good sister ! why pause and trem- 
 ble thus ? The Squire is so blunt and rude 
 a man — not fit for you, sweet Anne — he 
 lives for horses, like our good Guy, and 
 losing you will never break his heart ! — 
 be sure of that, if pity for his disappoint- 
 
144 THE OLD 
 
 ment prompts you to this weary indecision, 
 besides — " and Mabel paused — " besides there 
 is one nearer home than Squire Eardley 
 Spence. Wait, Anne, you know what I 
 would say — wait and see if what 1 insinuate 
 comes not true." 
 
 Anne passed her hand over her forehead, for 
 " the eloquent blood" was dying cheek and 
 brow as she answered — 
 
 " Ah, now you jest !" 
 
 " I jest not," said her young sister gravely, 
 '' nor do I say ought more than this — the look- 
 ers on, Anne, see a game more clearly than the 
 players. Do not take the Squire, dearest 
 sister mine, and leave the rest to fate. 
 I promise you my advice is founded on 
 truth and wisdom; so rouse yourself and 
 act—" 
 
 Anne walked away with a look of care, as 
 though she had the whole weight of a world 
 on her shoulders — and when the family 
 met at dinner, there was a kind of unnatural 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 145 
 
 excitement amongst them, which each and 
 all knew was assumed, to conceal some anxious 
 feeling. 
 
 Lady Hester looked ill ; she complained of 
 a dreadful head-ache, and immediately after 
 dinner retired to her room. 
 
 VOL. I. n 
 
146 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 'Tis a strange mystery, the power of words ! 
 
 A word can send 
 
 The crimson color hurrying to the cheek. 
 Hurrying with many meanings ; or can turn, 
 The current cold and deadly to the heart. 
 
 Yet slight, impalpable ; 
 
 A word is but a breath of passing air. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 Guy, Henry Fortescue, and the twins were 
 left this evening to amuse themselves as they 
 best could, and as the Parsonage boasted of no 
 kind of musical instrument, they paired off to- 
 gether in two games of Beau Mariage. 
 
 Whilst they were thus engaged, Mab re- 
 ceived a command from her mother, to read 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 147 
 
 to her. Lady Hester had a habit of requiring 
 each daughter in turn to do this service for her, 
 and hardly had Mab quitted the room, than a 
 message was brought to Guy, that the sexton of 
 the parish, wished to speak to him. 
 
 " Have him up," cried the Keverend Guy, 
 " you shall see and hear a character, Anne," 
 but Henry Fortescue instantly interrupted him 
 by the words — 
 
 '' And hear some horrid story too, no doubt ! 
 for mercy's sake, Sibley, don't have him up ; he 
 really is not fit for a drawing room." 
 
 Guy was a weather- cock, he veered round 
 with every breeze. 
 
 " Very well I don't let him in, Mrs. Gillies. 
 I will see him in the hall. Dl come this mo- 
 ment — shan't be long, Anne — go on with your 
 game — Hal, take my hand I" and he left them 
 together. 
 
 Anne's fingers shook — her presence of mind 
 forsook her — she dropped first one card and 
 then the other, and her memory failed ; inso- 
 H 3 
 
148 THE OLD 
 
 much as to prevent her either counting, or re- 
 membering the number she had marked. 
 
 For some minutes which seemed hours to 
 Anne, they continued the game, and then there 
 was a pause. She looked up quickly, and met 
 the eyes of Flenry Fortescue fixed upon her 
 face, with a smile that sent the warm blood in 
 torrents to her throat, and face, and even 
 hands. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " Ami de la maison knows all the secrets," 
 said he archly — " am I to congratulate you, 
 fliir Anne, or no ?'' 
 
 " I have not — yet — " murmured Anne, and 
 she drew a card out of her turn. ./'.,• 
 
 '^Ha! pending then is it? pardon me, you 
 have six cards in your hand, you should have 
 but five — neither yes or no — eh, sweet Anne ?" 
 
 Anne's breath grew short — the tone of the 
 speaker had sunk to her young heart. She 
 saw it was impossible she could continue the 
 game with equanimity, and therefore her only 
 
DOWExl HOUSE. 149 
 
 plan was to abdicate before she was dethroned. 
 '' I cannot play, Henry — I have forgotten 
 the little that I ever learnt. You know Guy 
 has been my only instructor, and truly he did 
 not teach me over much. I am but a sorry 
 pupil." 
 
 '* Then let us talk !" exclaimed Henry For 
 tescue, drawing his chair almost into the fire" 
 " let us talk, Anne ; throw down the cards 
 They are only fit for older heads and hands 
 than ours — and older hearts perchance — what 
 think you, Anne ?" 
 
 '* I never liked ' Beau Mariage f in truth 
 I like not cards," said Anne, *' 'tis dull, dry 
 play. I wish Guy had a harpsichord." 
 
 " Sing without it — sing one of Mab's wild 
 ditties." 
 
 " I will call Mab, and she shall sing instead, ' 
 answered Anne rising hastily, but the volu-r 
 minous skirt of her dress was detained, as it 
 fl oated past, and Henry Fortescue withheld her 
 from leaving the room. 
 
loO THE OLD 
 
 '' Not SO fast, lady fair. I care not for the 
 song — I only care for — " he paused and looked 
 at her — Anne's unfortunate blushes were again 
 all in the ascendant — " for your presence," he 
 added in a lower tone, and she resumed her 
 seat in silence. 
 
 '* You do not believe me I you think that 
 one of my insincere speeches ?" he rejoined, as 
 a smile curled her beautiful lips. 
 
 " Nay !" said Anne with much of her native 
 dignity, " my acquaintance with them is too 
 slight, for me to presume to disbelieve their 
 sincerity." 
 
 " Shall I teach you a few ?" he rejoined. 
 
 '* No!" said Anne with the same proud sim- 
 plicity, " not if they are all insincere — they 
 would be little worth the trouble of learning, 
 or teaching, in that case." 
 
 For a moment Henry Fortescue bit his lip, 
 for he saw then the artless simplicity of the 
 character with which he had to deal — but he 
 soon recovered himself. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 151 
 
 " Talking of teaching," he carelessly re- 
 sumed, " do you remember the grey parrot at 
 Castle Evelyn?" 
 
 " Oh, well !" cried Anne, " what of it ?" 
 
 *' Only think of my teaching it English 
 during my visit there. I was dreadfully en- 
 nuyeedy I was wishing to get away, and 
 come here, so I employed my dull and drowsy 
 leisure, in teaching Giobbe a whole sentence 
 in English, and much pains it cost me, for 
 Giobbe has not a near for our cold language." 
 
 '* Delightful!" was Anne's exclamation ; 
 *' pray what was the sentence?" 
 
 At the moment of the putting of the ques- 
 tion, they were seated, Henry Fortescue and 
 Anne Sibley, one on either side of the fire place. 
 As the words fell from Anne's lips, her com- 
 panion drew his chair nearer to her, and taking 
 her hands in his, half playfully, he said — 
 
 " You wish to hear?" 
 
 " Surely I do !" was the surprised reply. 
 
 ^' It was this," said Fortescue in a whisper. 
 
152 THE OLD 
 
 which made Anne draw herself haughtily back, 
 '' do not look such daggers ! the sentence was 
 but this : — * Sweet Anne I love thee I' " 
 
 That night, for no reason except that Anne 
 Sibley did not wish to leave home. Squire 
 Eardley Spence was firmly, finally, but courte- 
 ously refused. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 I never was a favorite, 
 
 My mother never smiled 
 
 On me, with half the tenderness 
 
 That blessed her other child. 
 
 Haynes Bayley, 
 The miserable have no other medicine, 
 But only hope. 
 
 Shakepeare, 
 
 Lady Hester was somewhat astonished, 
 though inwardly gratified, at the impression 
 which her daughter Anne never failed to make; 
 and the favoritism, which she had hitherto most 
 cautiously concealed from every eye, now began 
 at times to show itself. 
 
 Anne shrank from it, because she dreaded 
 H 5 
 
154 THE OLD 
 
 lest Mabel should perceive it, and moreover at 
 the present crisis, her heart told her, that poor 
 Mab would soon require to exert her full 
 power over the tenderness of her mother, or it 
 would fare ill with her — but her sensitive 
 delicacy of feeling, could not shield her from 
 the attention and admiration of the county, 
 and in proportion as Anne Sibley was sur- 
 rounded by flatterers, so did she rise in the 
 favour of Lady Hester. 
 
 Anne was not the fairest of the two sisters, 
 for her features had not quite the regularity of 
 Mabel's — the blue of her eyes was not so clear 
 — her cheek was not so transparent — nor was 
 her colour so brilliant and unchanging, as that 
 of Mabel. 
 
 Mabel was one of those bright beings 
 whose — 
 
 " Smile could make a summer, 
 Where darkness else would be." 
 
 and wliose despotic will in childhood, had 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 155 
 
 mafle the only visible diiFerence betwixt her 
 and her gentle sister Anne, 
 
 Very often in her moments of solitude, Lady 
 Hester would say to her son Gruy, 
 
 " I wonder ^whether it would be possible for 
 Anne to cause me any uneasiness? it seems as 
 though she had passed through childhood with- 
 out its naughtiness, and would pass through 
 girlhood untouched by its errors — I cannot 
 picture to myself Anne causing me any sorrow. 
 May it continue so I pray]" 
 
 And these words which Lady Hester had been 
 wont to breathe only en tete-a-tete^ were now 
 sometimes uttered in Anne's very presence ; 
 and above all was she praised for her modest 
 firmness, in knowing her own mind, when 
 the Squire Eardley Spence did her the honor 
 of askino; her hand in marriage. 
 
 Mabel fretted, and chafed under every dis- 
 appointment ; Anne again was an enduring 
 character, and both in their different ways were 
 
156 THE (LD 
 
 tried when the time arrived, that they were to 
 leave Guy Sibley's parsonage. 
 
 It was only a few days before that fixed for 
 their departure, that Lady Hester thought it 
 necessary to inform her daughters, that they 
 were not going direct to Abbey lans. She 
 intended to spend a fortnight en route at Buck- 
 leigh, and then proceed with Lord and Lady 
 Randall to the Dower House to celebrate 
 Christmas with all due festivity. 
 
 To poor Mab whose heart was already sick 
 with " hope deferred," this arrangement was 
 grievous beyond words. 
 
 To be for a whole fortnight within twelve 
 miles of the Priory, and yet to have no com- 
 munication with its inmates, would be torture 
 to her fretful and impatient disposition. 
 
 " How shall I bear it ? — Suppose he should 
 ride over? — Suppose he should write?— -Sup- 
 pose he should do neither? — and what will he 
 do at all ?" were questions which fell from her 
 
Dower house. 157 
 
 lips in rapid succession, when in the silence of 
 their chamber, she kept the drowsy Anne from 
 sleep, by the incessant motion of her restless 
 tongue. 
 
 " Oh, Mabel, sleep !" was Anne's mild ex- 
 postulation, " sleep and remember that it is 
 written, ' sufficient unto the day, is the evil 
 thereof!' be sure that what is right, will be 
 done by Clement Raynier ; bless your fate, 
 Mabel that has attached you to one, in whom 
 you have trust and confidence ! leave the rest 
 to him dear sister, and be sure he will take the 
 best and wisest way of offering his hand." 
 
 " Sleep !" said Mabel, sitting up in her bed 
 indignantly, whilst the calm and temperate 
 sister shivered with the cold. '* Sleep in this 
 fever of anxiety ? Oh, Anne, dear Anne ! 
 would that we had told my mother from the 
 first !" 
 
 *' Or me I" said Anne drowsily. 
 
 " Nay, I did tell you — I told you the first I 
 
158 THE OLD 
 
 yes, and on the same evening that he openly de- 
 clared himself — how can you say, Anne, I told 
 you not?" 
 
 '* Sleep, sister, sleep !" was all that could be 
 elicited from Anne ; and she dropped instantly 
 into a slumber ; for these midnight arguments 
 were so frequent, that she rarely laid awake if 
 she could help it, to listen to them ; and Mabel 
 also after a time, murmured herself into a state 
 of quiescence. 
 
 It was the last evening at the Parsonage — 
 a bright, cold, moonshine night, and well en- 
 veloped in her cloak and calesh, Anne walked 
 round and round the lawn which was skirted 
 by a shrubbery, between her brother and 
 Henry Fortescue. 
 
 Mabel was not with them — she was sitting 
 peevishly in the house, mourning, over the fire, 
 upon the formidable journey of a hundred 
 miles, not to be performed then, as now, in a 
 lew hours, but to be crept over by the Lady 
 Hester's own four pampered steeds, for whose 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 159 
 
 convenience, the family would most probably 
 be three, perhaps four days on the road. 
 
 " I wonder what Mabel is about!" said 
 Anne suddenly, after a long pause, in which 
 the silent trio had been pacing in the moon- 
 light. 
 
 " Moping I" answered Guy. " She does not 
 look well by any means. I hope the next 
 time I see her, she will have lost that fretful, 
 mournful look — one can never get her away 
 from the fire now ; she would be much 
 better out here. Come out, Mab I" he added, 
 as he stopped and tapped at the window. 
 
 '* Do not stand in the cold," said Henry 
 Fortescue at the same time to Anne, " walk 
 briskly, and they will join us." 
 ♦ These were the opportunities of which Henry 
 Fortescue never failed to take advantage — 
 these were the opportunities against which 
 Anne never could guard ; and yet the moment 
 the tete-a-tete commenced, it was very visible 
 to her companion, that her reserve and hauteur 
 
160 THE OLD 
 
 increased, and that instead of encouraging their 
 continuance, she invariably made her escape 
 the moment it was possible to do so. 
 
 Fortescue saw all this, and was piqued — 
 piqued into trying, if she were in reality more 
 invulnerable than the rest of her sex, and 
 piqued into essaying how long the citadel of 
 her proud heart, would stand out against the 
 siege he had begun. 
 
 Anne's outward bearing to her family, was 
 the very reverse of proud, but her hidden na- 
 ture was considerably tinctured with her 
 mother's failing point ; and it gave a certain 
 coldness to her manners towards Henry For- 
 tescue, which was his first incitement to see, if 
 he could thaw the superficial ice. 
 
 He knew by the swimming of her eyes 
 when words of affection were addressed to her 
 by the members of her family, and by her 
 clinginoj tenderness towards Mabel, that she 
 had a heart; and he could tell by the love 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 161 
 
 her friends bore her, and the worship the poor 
 gave her, what a heart it was — and he was 
 
 piqued when he failed in finding the way 
 
 to it ; though had he given up in this 
 
 early stage, it would not have been like 
 him. 
 
 So he went on. 
 
162 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 Oh, love that tempests never shook, 
 A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
 And ruder words vv^ill soon rush in 
 To spread the breach that words begin. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 " I envy your going back to that fine old 
 Abbeylans," were the first words of the tete- 
 a-tete. '* We shall miss you miserably." 
 
 *' Abbeylans is an enviable home indeed !" 
 answered Anne quietly. 
 
 ^' Yes ! and you will be enjoying all the 
 amusement and festivities of your agreeable 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 163 
 
 neighbourliood, whilst, unfortunate I, shall be 
 in that great desert of London." 
 
 '* But London is the gayest place in the 
 world surely !" said Anne in a tone of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 '* No! not at Christmas — overgrown dinners 
 go on, but they only increase the burden of 
 ennuL London in December is not lively." 
 
 " Everything seems to ennuyer you," inter- 
 rupted Anne. •' You spoke the other day 
 of being ennuye, even at lovely Castle 
 Evelyn !" 
 
 " So I was, but I am not so everywhere — 
 not here for instance ;" and he bent his eyes 
 upon his companion, to mark the effects of the 
 inference. 
 
 The effect was simply this, that Anne's lip-^ 
 had a slight additional curl, and her head 
 was carried rather higher than it had been 
 the moment before — there was no blush, and 
 again Henry Fortescue was piqued — but he 
 went on. 
 
164 THE OLD 
 
 '' It is a stupid life this English mode of 
 existence," said he with a contemptuous em- 
 phasis on the latter word ; " there is but 
 one post I covet under our cloudy skies — 
 and that is some place at court— some office 
 near the person of his Majesty ; or next to that 
 to be in the suite of the Prince." 
 
 •' But does not that require the greatest 
 interest?" asked Anne. 
 
 " Yes, but with Earl Evelyn for my friend, 
 I have a very fair chance ; he has powerful 
 influence with the King ; only I suspect his 
 lordship is beating about the bush for some- 
 thing for himself." 
 
 " For himself!" cried Anne. ^' I thought he 
 was both rich and powerful." 
 
 " And so he is, but he is likewise ambitious 
 to a degree ; and I suppose you know of his 
 having placed his daughter's name on the list 
 of those who aspire to be maids of honour to 
 the Queen." 
 
 " I never heard a word of it !" exclaimed 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 165 
 
 Anne in profound astonishment, " how surpriz- 
 ing it is to me, that a person in Lord Evelyn's 
 station, should covet such a position for one of 
 his daughters; and is it possible that Lady Mil- 
 dred, with her love of quiet and retirement, 
 should look forward to such a position, with 
 any pleasure or anxiety ? to me it is incompre- 
 hensible." 
 
 " You mistake," said Fortescue with a sly 
 smile, as he again fixed his eyes on her face, as 
 though he would have read every inward 
 thought— " his application is for Lady Anne !" 
 
 Anne did not start perceptibly, for she 
 clenched her hands instead — but certainly at 
 that moment, a very uncomfortable feeling 
 stole into her tranquil breast, and it was one so 
 new and strange, that it deprived her of power 
 to reply. 
 
 Quick as light, young Fortescue saw a step 
 was gained ; for the adept knew the meaning 
 of the sudden drooping of those full, white lids, 
 and he could scarcely conceal his triumph, at 
 
166 THE OLD 
 
 finding that Anne Sibley, was at all events 
 vulnerable to one pang — and that was caused 
 by jealousy ! 
 
 It would not do however for him to allow 
 her to run away with the idea, that what 
 had been only spoken of at Castle Evelyn as 
 almost a joke, was a certainty — so again he 
 went on. 
 
 " Perhaps as your friend never mentioned it 
 to you, she did not wish it known." 
 
 ** How could she mention it tome?" inter- 
 rupted Anne almost indignantly, " when we 
 have been away from Abbeylans nearly three 
 month ! we do not correspond — so how could 
 she tell me? she had the will, I doubt not, 
 though not the power !" 
 
 Gentle Anne was nearly in a passion, and 
 Henry Fortescue was delighted— delighted to 
 feel that he had laid his nets with so much skill 
 that he was proceeding by degrees. 
 
 " At all events, Anne, it were as well you 
 did not say from whom you heard the intel- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 167 
 
 ligence ; for though they kindly made me quite 
 one of themselves, I dare to say they spoke of 
 family matters, under the impression that I am 
 worthy of confidence ; I regret that I should 
 have inadvertently mentioned it." 
 
 *' Be at rest !" said Anne in an undisguised 
 tone of disdain, as she bent her haughty head, 
 " you are safe." 
 
 And she would have re-entered the house, 
 but her last words had been unsatisfactory, 
 and Henry Fortescue felt discomfited, and 
 sought to detain her. 
 
 " Now, gentle Anne, do not go, I beseech 
 you ; I have offended you !" 
 
 '^ Not so," was Anne's mild reply. 
 
 " Then most unintentionally something 1 
 have said wounded you !" 
 
 *' Pardon me," exclaimed Anne hastily, " be- 
 lieve me, that were not in your power." 
 
168 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Here he lives in state and bounty 
 Lord of Burleigh, fair and free, 
 Not a lord in all the county, 
 Is so great a lord as he." 
 
 Texnyson. 
 
 BucKLEiGH was a stately mansion, very different 
 to Abbeylans in appearance and situation, for 
 it bore about it no traces of times' ravages — 
 yet still its grey stones carried to the mind of 
 the observer, quite sufficient conviction of its 
 antiquity. 
 
 Every Baron of Buckleigh had seemed to 
 
/^ 
 
 DOWER HOUSE. 169 
 
 feel it a duty to keep the mansion in a state of. 
 the most modern repair ; and thus when Lord 
 Randall took Hester home as his bride, she 
 was dazzled by the splendour of its internal 
 decorations ; even as Lady Hester was surprised 
 at the noble style, in which, from the lodge 
 gate to the very castle door, every inch of the 
 ground was arranged. Every object about the 
 place, told that it was a nobleman's property. 
 The lawn stretched far and wide, and large 
 tufts of oak and elm were dispersed over its 
 surface. Here and there were herds of deer, 
 browsina: under the trees, and within a few 
 hundred yards of the house, the lawn sloped 
 down to the margin of a river, on which were 
 both black and white swans, and wild fowl of 
 every description. 
 
 Such was Hester's home, and when she 
 bounded gaily down the long flight of stairs, 
 and welcomed her mother and sisters. Lady 
 Hester felt a proud, as well as a happy woman ; 
 for in those days, letters, even between such 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 THE OLD 
 
 close ties, were arrivals of unusual occurrence ; 
 and therefore in Hester's brief and respectfully 
 guarded correspondence, her mother was unable 
 to judge, how far she was blest in the lot that 
 liad been selected for her. 
 
 But five minutes in the society of Lady 
 Kandall of Buckleigh, were sufficient to set all 
 fears at rest. The Chrysalis had burst into a 
 bright being, much more nearly resembling 
 Mab, in her merry days, than the grave and 
 timid Hester Sibley of Abbey lans. 
 
 She indeed was the happiest of the happy, 
 and it w^as evident in every look, word, and 
 tone ; yet it was all tinged with just enough 
 of her girlish pride, to support the dignity of 
 her high position, with propriety and graceful- 
 ness. 
 
 " Trust me, damsels !" was her lively address 
 one evening, as she extended a hand to each ; 
 " let my mother choose for you, when you 
 change your names, as I have done ! who would 
 have thought when I left the Dower House, of 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 171 
 
 the bright fate that awaited me? and yet, I 
 dare say my mother saw it all spread out before 
 her in the future ; her eye of experience saw 
 all — but you do not quite look like yourselves 
 — tell me every minute event that has passed 
 since we parted. You are thinner, my mother ! 
 Mab has lost all her colour ; and even 
 Anne, on whom I thought no visible change 
 could ever rest, looks altered in the expression 
 of her face — somewhat sad methinks — what is 
 it all ?" 
 
 *' Mabel has not looked well for some time," 
 said Lady Hester, '* and as for Anne, unless 
 a fit of repentance is on her," added her mother 
 smiling, " she should not look sad at leaving 
 Leicestershire — but there is a charm in Ab- 
 beylans which will soon revive us all I doubt 
 not." 
 
 *' Dear Abbeylans!" ejaculated Lady Ran- 
 dall, " I often longed to see the unlucky 
 stables after the fire, but my Lord has never 
 suffered me to go so far." 
 I 3 
 
172 THE OLD 
 
 The Bjiron answered for himself, for he had 
 entered the room unobserved. 
 
 " I only placed restrictions during the ab- 
 sence of your mother, Hester — her ladyship 
 will agree with me in saying, that the drive is 
 too far, unless you were to remain all night 
 there." 
 
 *' Time was," smiled the young lady of 
 liuckleigli, " when my Lord thought nothing 
 of tlie distance -, and that reminds me how long 
 we have owed a visit to the Priory ! strange 
 tales are floating, dear mother, fi:om that 
 quarter, indeed of one of the family." 
 
 " I should think nothing strange that the 
 Lorimers did," answered Lady Hester coldly, 
 and struck by the peculiar intonation of her 
 mother's voice. Lady Randall looked up from 
 the tapestry frame at which she sat. 
 
 The countenances of her two vounoj sisters 
 thus accidentally came under her observation, 
 and Mabel's deadly pallor, and Anne's deep 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 173 
 
 blush, surprised and perplexed her, but she said 
 nothing. 
 
 *' The rumours are respecting Miss Lori- 
 raer," said the Baron, by way of filling up the 
 pause, '' her conduct is becoming more eccen- 
 tric every day. 
 
 " And her penances more severe," added 
 
 Hester. 
 
 " In fact she has entirely withdrawn herself 
 from society," pursued Lord Eandall, " so she 
 might as well be in a nunnery at once." 
 
 '' But is this the strange tale ?" asked Anne 
 
 timidly. 
 
 *' No I" answered the Baron, who was in a 
 communicative mood, and never saw the look 
 of caution bestowed on him by his wife, 
 " the strangest part is still to be told— I vouch 
 not for its truth, because I never vouch for 
 the truth of any report, unless on undeniable 
 authority — but they do say that the reason 
 for this utter seclusion, even from the mem- 
 
174 THE OLD 
 
 bers of her own family, is an unrequited 
 attachment !" 
 
 Even Lady Hester condescended to raise her 
 eyes, with some appearance of interest at these 
 words. Anne's eyes opened wide, and Mabel's 
 lips parted, as though she would have given 
 worlds to have asked questions had she dared ; 
 but the cold, haughty voice of her mother 
 was heard at the moment, and Mabel was im- 
 mediately silenced. 
 
 " Poor misguided creature !" was Lady Hes- 
 ter's words, " is the object much beneath her?" 
 
 *' Hardly !" was the reply, " and it appears 
 a likely tale ; however they have only to thank 
 their own imprudence, for having so attractive 
 a person under their roof." 
 
 " There !" exclaimed Lady Hester with an 
 expression of mingled horror and disgust, 
 *' this comes of domesticating Jesuit Priests !" 
 
 " Nay, madam," said Lord Randall hastily, 
 '* that can hardly be— you mistake —no priest 
 of course." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 17' 
 
 His sentence was abruptly terminated by 
 a smothered sigh behind him, and the next 
 moment the faint accents of Mabel were 
 heard, uttering the words, 
 
 " Oh, mother — Anne — help me, I am ill," 
 and the pale, sweet face sank back upon her 
 sister's shoulder. 
 
 Most fortunately, Mabel's ill looks for seve- 
 ral days previous (almost we may say for several 
 weeks) made the sudden seizure, appear a sort 
 of climax to her mother. Mabel was fragile, 
 and therefore her fainting was excusable, 
 though Lady Hester was considerably annoyed 
 and astonished, at a symptom of weakness, 
 almost unparalleled in the strong-nerved Sib- 
 ley family. 
 
 The mother was not of a nature to exhibit 
 much anxiety or alarm, and though she would not 
 allow her daughters to suppose she was uneasy, 
 they both knew, that whilst they pretended 
 sleep, in order that the fevered cheek of one, 
 and the matted, tear-steeped eyelashes of the 
 
176 THE OLD 
 
 other, might not be observed, the mother stole 
 with noiseless step to their bedside, and would 
 fain have removed the shrouding draperies, had 
 she not feared to rouse them from their ap- 
 parently peaceful slumbers. 
 
 But Mabel was not of a peaceful nature — 
 she was compounded of excitable materials, 
 and they were now coming into play. Anne 
 trembled for her, from the specimen she had 
 that evening given, of the little self-control 
 she possessed. 
 
 " I could not help it 1" were the words of 
 her defence, when her sister gently upbraided 
 her, for not, at all events, endeavouring to 
 struggle with her feeling of faintness, when 
 she became aware of its approach. 
 
 '* How could I ? 1 knew from the first 
 words that Hester uttered, of whom she was 
 speaking ! I saw the whole case so strongly 
 before me, that my heart failed me, though 
 never, never for one instant, I doubted him ! 
 Yet to think that he was the object of 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 177 
 
 another's attachment was a bitter pang — ask 
 me not why !^I cannot tell you what I felt. 
 Oh, Anne, it was a sensation of death ! then 
 Hester's voice grew fainter in my ear — and 
 the room swam round, and the chair seemed 
 sliding from me. Woe is me, Anne ! but I 
 dread— I dread to see his face again; and yet 
 how [ have longed, and hoped, and wearied 
 for this hour ! Anne, Anne, if my mother 
 should say ' Nay 1' what then were life ?" 
 
 Poor Anne used to listen to these passionate 
 addresses, without vouchsafing one syllable in 
 reply ; for she was amazed at their vehemence, 
 and marvelled where Mabel could have ac- 
 quired such language, and such sentiments, so 
 foreign to the mode of their bringing up. 
 
 But she attempted no expostulation, for a 
 flow of language had always the effect of 
 silencing her, and therefore Mabel was never 
 checked — and Anne, gentle, kind, good Anne, 
 was in this to blame. 
 
 They returned at last to Abbeylans : it was 
 I 5 
 
178 THE OLD 
 
 an early winter's day, the snow was deep on 
 the ground, when the old family coach rolled 
 noiselessly into the court yard, and deposited 
 Lady Hester in state, once more beneath the 
 roof of the Dower House. 
 
 It was with a sensation of pride felt in no 
 other house, that Lady Hester paced the long 
 galleries of Abbeylans, and entered its spacious 
 rooms. 
 
 Buckleigh was in a style of modern mag- 
 nificence, infinitely superior in point of fact, 
 but the wealth of the Indies, would not have 
 tempted the lady of the Dower House to 
 change houses with her daughter of Buckleigh ; 
 and yet |she held up Hester as a pattern, a 
 model for her young sisters. 
 
 '^ A pattern," she said '* in every relation of 
 life, as far as she has hitherto been tried — 
 with not a wish ungratified, and as perfect a 
 specimen of happiness unalloyed and prosperity, 
 as may ever be your fates to witness — and all 
 the fruits of obedience." 
 
r>OWER HOUSE. 179 
 
 This was very true, and it was evident to 
 the twin sisters, that Hester was the pride 
 of her mother's heart ! so they believed, pro- 
 perly and submissively, that her position was 
 the fruits of her obedience ; but nevertheless, 
 both Anne and Mab, were very certain, that no 
 temptation, and no power, would have in- 
 duced either of them, to mary Lord Randall, 
 kind, and good, and wealthy as he was. 
 There was but little rest for Anne and Mabel 
 that first night at Abbeylans* Both were 
 oppressed with fears for what the morrow 
 might bring forth, and both felt that they 
 were alone with their mother for the first time 
 in their lives. There was no Hester now to 
 divide the attention, or share the blame — there 
 was no Guy to take their part — and no Henry 
 Fortescue to laugh at their misdemeanours ; 
 and yet for once the sisters were not communi- 
 cative that night. Anne was afraid to tell 
 Mabel, how much she dreaded the moment of 
 Mr. Raynier's declaration, and Mabel could 
 
180 THE OLD 
 
 not bring herself to tell Anne that she had 
 any doubts or fears either, on the subject. 
 
 The morning dawned at last — a clear, bright, 
 frosty day ! and the twins were up betimes 
 on the terrace — Mabel's glittering eyes darted 
 first in the direction of the Priory, and she 
 gazed with a beating heart, on the thin blue 
 smoke, rising out of the woods that encircled 
 it. 
 
 " A few hours, Anne — only a few hours 
 more !" and at mid-day her heart began to sink ; 
 for in spite of all their watching, they had 
 seen no horseman or even foot passenger cross 
 the drawbridge. 
 
 Suspense was torture to Mabel's vivacious 
 nature, but she had not to endure it long. 
 
 As they again paced the terrace with rapid 
 steps, to keep themselves from freezing, they 
 suddenly descried the old butler advancing 
 towards them, and a message was delivered. 
 
 '' My lady requires Miss IMabel ; you will 
 please to be speedy, Miss — " 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 181 
 
 Anne caught her sister's outstretched hand, 
 and whispered in answer to her look of en- 
 treaty, that she would not leave her. 
 
 " My lady never named Miss Anne," said 
 the old domestic, by way of a gentle hint ; but 
 it was not heeded — arm in arm they flew along 
 the terrace, and into the hall, up the stairs, 
 right through the gallery, and at their mother'* 
 boudoir door they paused — and knocked. 
 
182 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XrX. 
 
 I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad. 
 
 Shakspeare- 
 
 Lady Hester Sibley was alone, when she 
 uttered the imperative " enter," which brought 
 her daughters immediately into her presence. 
 She was seated at her writing desk, with her 
 eyes bent on two letters— one open before her, 
 and the other partly folded — her pen etill 
 
BOWER HOUSE. 183 
 
 rested on that which was open, as though 
 it were not entirely finished, but when, by 
 the closing of the door, she knew the daughter 
 she had summoned, was awaiting her com- 
 mands, she raised her cold, stern eyes — Mabel's 
 were fixed on the ground, but Anne was gazing 
 at her mother, with the full, open look of 
 innocence, mingled with anxiety and fear, 
 which would have told any casual observer, 
 that she was not concerned in the cause of the 
 summons. 
 
 Lady Hester glanced from one fair sister 
 to the other, and this circumstance seemed to 
 strike her instantly. 
 
 " I need not ask," she began, in a tone of 
 the most cutting sarcasm, " whether the con- 
 tents of a letter, I have this morning had the 
 honour of receiving, are, or are not, known to 
 the object of the affection, which that letter has 
 in so flattering a manner expressed — neither 
 have I occasion to enquire confirmation from 
 
184 THE OLD 
 
 either of your lips, of the fact, that it is my 
 daughter Mabel, who is destined to the dis- 
 tinction, of being solicited as the wife of 
 Mr. Clement Kaynier. I thank my daugh- 
 ter Mabel's countenance, for affording me the 
 most satisfactory information on every point 
 excepting one ; and that is, how far she may 
 have authorized Mr. Clement Eaynier in 
 addressing to Lady Hester Sibley, the letter in 
 question ?" 
 
 Not a sound escaped the lips of either of 
 the twins, when Lady Hester paused for an 
 answer ; the mood in which they found her, 
 struck them dumb, and whilst Anne was be- 
 wildered, as to whether her mother w^ere in jest 
 or earnest, Mabel quivered at each sarcastic 
 word, and felt the force of every contemptuous 
 intonation. 
 
 ** Am I to ask oral information in vain ?" 
 pursued Lady Hester, still keeping her eye 
 fastened on Mab— '' is there some mystery here 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 1^5 
 
 which I am not to know? — has Mr. Clement 
 Raynier betrayed the secret too soon, that it 
 thus deprives you of the power of speech ; or 
 am I to infer," and here Lady Hester's eyes 
 flashed fire, '' that you have been till this 
 moment, ignorant of Mr. Clement Raynier's 
 presumptuous attachment ?" 
 
 The start that Mabel gave at these words, 
 and the indignant colour that rushed into her 
 cheeks, as she looked up, and met her mother's 
 glance, spoke more forcibly than the '' No !" 
 which her reviving courage strengthened her to 
 utter. 
 
 A few kind words, or a look of grieved 
 affection, would have softened and mollified 
 the inexperienced and high spirited girl ; 
 but that one hard, haughty term " presumptu- 
 ous," roused her spirit, and gave bitterness to 
 her reply. 
 
 '* No, my mother ! — nor has he betrayed too 
 soon, what his honorable nature taught him 
 should be no secret !" 
 
1'86 THE OLD 
 
 Anne positively shook at the hardihood of 
 these words, and Lady Hester's large, dark 
 eyes seemed dilating with anger, though her 
 self-command was so infinite, that she summoned 
 a smile to her lips, as she answered, 
 
 " So then, supported by your powerful 
 sanction, this person has built an edifice of 
 hopes, of which I shall deem it expedient 
 very shortly to show him the presumption, 
 Mabel." 
 
 '' Oh, mother ! mother !" cried Mabel rush- 
 ing forward, and clasping her hands, as the truth 
 dawned on her mind, that Clement Raynier's 
 suit was about to be refused with ignominy 
 and contempt. "" Forgive me ! hear me ! tell 
 me what has passed ! let me but see, or hear 
 — any thing !" she added wildly, '' only in 
 mercy — spare him your reproaches !" 
 
 And she hid her face in her hands. 
 
 " You wish to see his letter — hear his plead- 
 ings," said Lady Hester utterly unmoved, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 187 
 
 " you shall do both — I wish to be just, and I 
 am sorry to find it is necessary to be severe ; 
 for unless I am much deceived, it is your en- 
 couragement, that has emboldened the writer of 
 this letter to the step he has taken— before 
 however we proceed, answer me one question ; 
 look up, Mabel, look me full in the face ; and 
 remember that I had rather hear your voice 
 pronounce a degrading truth, than know your 
 lips sullied by a falsehood ! answer me instantly 
 — has Mr. Clement Haynier any reason to sup- 
 pose, that my daughter stoops to ^turn the 
 love he dares to profess for her ?" 
 
 '' Stoops, mother? dares?" ejaculated Mabel 
 throwing back her head. 
 
 '* A person whose birth may be as ignoble 
 as his parentage is unknown !" pursued Lady 
 Hester waxing warmer and warmer, " whose 
 position in a family of Jesuits and Papists, is 
 one of insignificant dependance ! Have I lived 
 to find that the insult of such an alliance, is to 
 
188 THE OLD 
 
 be boldly offered, and have I lived to rear a 
 daughter sufficiently degenerate, to support and 
 encourage the insult ?" 
 
 *' Too much, too much !" murmured Mabel 
 faintly, " Oh, Anne, for pity's sake ! beg her 
 to spare me." 
 
 " Spare her, dear mother I" entreated gentle 
 Anne, with the tears swimming in her eyes, 
 " one kind word, dearest mother, and she will 
 obey ; indeed, indeed she will ! only spare her 
 such bitter reflections 1" 
 
 It seemed as though Lady Hester had 
 almost forgotten her daughter Anne's presence 
 — her energies had been collected, and her 
 thoughts concentrated for Mabel alone, and 
 the calm and gentle spirit of Anne, suddenly 
 appearing on the scene, checked the violence of 
 the mother's scorn and anger, and appeared to 
 influence her next speech ; for her voice changed, 
 as she addressed herself to Anne. 
 
 " This is no time to spare her," said she, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 189 
 
 " for I see some clandestine plot has been at 
 work, or this man never would have presumed 
 to insinuate as he does here," and she 
 struck her hand on the offending letter " — that 
 the affections of my daughter are engaged to 
 him." 
 
 " True !" cried Mabel again springing for- 
 ward with an energy that startled both her 
 mother and sisiter, '' true, mother, as Heaven 
 is my witness it is true! Scorn, despise me — 
 heap odium on him as you may, it can never 
 alter that ! he has said true.'' 
 
 '' And you have suffered him to know 
 it ?" asked Lady Hester, speaking as if holding 
 her breath, " he knows that he has written the 
 truth, does he?" 
 
 '' He does," was Mabefs almost inaudible 
 reply, and it was now Anne's turn to tremble ; 
 for the next words of her mother were calm 
 and distinct, as if her mind had regained its 
 composure, after finally resolving itself. 
 " Mabel you may leave the room!" 
 
190 THE OLD 
 
 Ready obedience to positive commands, was 
 a habit with all the daughters of Lady Hester 
 Sibley, therefore the latter had retired, before 
 the echo of the words had died away, and 
 the mother and the favoured child were left 
 alone. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " How often in this cold and bitter world 
 Is the warm heart thrown back upon itself ? 
 Cold, careless, are we of another's grief; 
 We wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness, 
 Harsh judging, narrow-minded, stern and chill 
 
 In measuring every action, but our own — 
 
 ♦ * * ♦ 
 
 There are too many such !" 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 " What a return to Abbeylans! were Lady 
 Hester's first words. " Anne, what a degra- 
 dation ! Sit you down child, and endeavour 
 to keep yourself from trembling thus ! What 
 cause have you for fear, when the erring one 
 bore herself, as though she gloried in her 
 
192 THE OLD 
 
 fault ! but sit you down and hear my will, 
 which it will be your task to convey to Mabel; 
 for on this subject, remember I allow no word 
 to be spoken in my presence. I know not 
 when I shall ever bring myself to forgive 
 the duplicity, which has left me ignorant till 
 this moment, of a fact so important to her 
 welfare — tell me, Anne, how long it has been 
 going on, for they cannot possibly have met 
 since our return last night; therefore this 
 letter is the fruit of some former, concerted 
 plan — unless they have corresponded — and I 
 cannot bring myself to believe, even Mabel so 
 lost to dignity as that !" 
 
 '* Ah, Madam !*' said Anne imploringly, 
 " spare me these questions! — do not make me 
 my sister's accuser !- -suffer me rather, with 
 the most respectful diffidence, to entreat you 
 to let the subject liave your consideration, be- 
 fore you finally dismiss it ; for indeed poor 
 Mabel's feelings are deeper and stronger than 
 you can well imagine." . . 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 193 
 
 " Read both these letters," answered Lady- 
 Hester, placing that of Clement Raynier, and 
 her own answer in Anne's hand — " read both, 
 and you will know how vain it is, to argue 
 with me, with a will that never yet changed, 
 or bent to any mortal living ! — read and recol- 
 lect, that you have to repeat all this to your 
 sister." 
 
 Anne read as she was desired, and she 
 turned cold, and her heart sank. Clement 
 Eaynier's warm, passionate, but respectful 
 pleading, filled her eyes with tears, and al- 
 though nearly blinded by them, she read and 
 re-read the beautiful passages, with an enthu- 
 siasm for which he would indeed have blessed 
 her. 
 
 Then came Lady Hester's reply — and oh ! 
 how painfully did the words grate upon the 
 feelings of the tender-hearted Anne. Cold — 
 stern — and cautious as herself, its sentiments 
 were calculated to extinguish any luke-warm 
 love, for they flung covert scorn upon the 
 
 VOL. T. K 
 
THE OLD 
 
 heart they were intended to wound, and every 
 line would wound the sensitive feelings of 
 Clement Haynier; but Anne saw in a moment, 
 that pained as he might be, it was not a letter 
 to extinguish his love, for the greatest stress 
 was laid pn his position and worldly circum- 
 stances ! 
 
 '* And you know, mother, he hopes some 
 day to be richer," burst almost insensibly from 
 the lips of Anne, as she paused and looked up. 
 
 " Have you read it all ?" echoed Lady Hes- 
 ter, " because if so, it must go. I scorn the 
 petty tyranny of keeping a man in suspense, 
 who has so much to dread ! Had Mr. Clement 
 Kayiiier the wealth of Croesus, he would still 
 be only in my eyes a low born Papist J"- 
 
 '* Indeed not low born, mother," interrupted 
 Anne, '*for the Lorimer's have told me who 
 he is so often ! Believe me his family are old and 
 respectable, though poor — his father was Mr. 
 Lorimer's earliest friend. Dear mother, could 
 vounotadd— or alter — or insinuate that it is 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 195 
 
 the difference of religion ? that would so effec- 
 tually stop a recurrence of — " 
 
 *' A recurrence ?" repeated Lady Hester 
 violently. '* Do you suppose, after that letter 
 of mine, he dare recur to the subject ? Be- 
 ware, Anne, lest in thus advocating his cause, 
 I see a deeper reason for your interest — an 
 interest in him as the friend of the Lorimers." 
 
 '* Nay ! dear mother," answered Anne, with 
 her frank ingenuous face, " the Lorimers may 
 be my friends, but beyond that, fear and sus- 
 pect nothing, for my horror of their religious 
 principles in every way equals yours. Fear 
 no interest on my part, save for my sister's 
 happiness — I plead for her alone— I suppli- 
 cate your consideration for her only I for 
 indeed — " 
 
 " You may ring the bell," said Lady Hester 
 imperiously, " and remember that though no 
 one save yourself, dared have said so much to 
 me as you have done, you must not presume 
 on my indulgence — this letter is to be dis- 
 K 3 
 
196 THE OLD 
 
 patched without delay; and now all is done, 
 or nearly so, for there remains but one pre- 
 caution, in which I expect you to aid me — 
 Mr. Clement Raynier and Mabel shall never 
 meet again with my sanction, unless as stran- 
 gers — remember all I have said, and leave 
 me ; nay, Anne, silence ! — my word is passed 
 — you may go." 
 
DOWER HOUSt;. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 ** Ah not for this 
 That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom, 
 And with slow anguish wear away thy life, 
 The victim of a useless constancy." 
 
 Coleridge, 
 
 From this interview with her mother, Anne 
 flew to the room appropriated to herself and 
 her sister, but Mabel was not there ; she then 
 sought her in the gallery, the drawing-rooms, 
 the conservatory, and even on the terrace, 
 though the snow was falling heavily ; but 
 Mabel was not to be found, and Anne sat down 
 
198 THE OLD 
 
 on a low seat in the window, to revolve in her 
 mind all sorts of dreadful possibilities ; for it 
 was very evident that the wilful, wayward girl 
 was not in the house. 
 
 As she sat agonized by the dread that they 
 might be summoned to their mother's presence, 
 and Mabel's absence discovered, some object 
 was seen flitting through the trees of the 
 shrubbery, and scarlet, the colour of Mabel's 
 mantle, was distinctly visible; nearer and nearer 
 it approached, and the next moment her 
 own light figure, bounded up the garden ter- 
 races, and darting in at the window of the 
 sitting-room, stood panting and breathless by 
 Anne's side. It ^was indeed Mab, wild and 
 impetuous Mab, and though her cheeks were 
 flushed, and it was clear that she had made 
 every haste to return home from her mysteri- 
 ous errand, still on the black calash which she 
 had thrown back, as she entered tlie room 
 the snow had collected, as if she had been 
 standing in the open air ; and on the rich 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 199 
 
 dark hair drawn so tightly off her brow were 
 flakes of snow. 
 
 ^' To your room I" cried Anne before a word 
 could be spoken — '* to your room, Mab, ere my 
 mother finds you thus." 
 
 '* I care not !" was Mab's reckless reply 
 *' for I have seen him, Anne 1" 
 
 And poor Anne, speechless and horrified, 
 hurried her imprudent sister along the polished 
 galleries, at a dangerous speed, and only mar- 
 velled that the gaunt and grave assemblage of 
 ancestry hung up on the walls, did not walk out 
 of their frames, to avoid contact with their de- 
 generate descendant ; for Lady Hester's in- 
 junction, *' that Mr. Clement Raynier and 
 Mabel were never again to meet, except as 
 strangers," still rang so clearly in the ears of 
 Anne, that she looked upon the act of her rash 
 sister, as one of the most fearful disobedience ; 
 forgetting that poor Mabel had been dismissed 
 the room before the sentence was pronounced, 
 '* And I have seen him !" continued Mabel, 
 
200 THE OLD 
 
 as soon as they were in their room together, 
 " Yes, seen him, though by chance, and spoken 
 to him — nay more, I was by his side when the 
 messenger with our mother's letter, rode down 
 the avenue, though we were not seen — and I 
 told him all —all— all Anne ! and I prepared 
 his kind, warm heart for the chill and the 
 blight that was to fall upon it, as it has fallen 
 on mine ! — and blame me if you can, but I have 
 promised before heaven and him, that whatever 
 betide, I wed no soul save him ! So now speak 
 on for I have told you all !'* 
 
 " And Anne did speak — and the Lady Hes- 
 ter's lans-uao^e was frauied in gentle words, and 
 her commands repeated with affectionate ear- 
 nestness, though the voice that breathed them 
 faltered as Mabel's spirits sank before her ; 
 and Mabel's cheek waxed paler and paler, for 
 had her sister's eyes still flashed, and her cheek 
 still burned, Anne's courage would have nerved 
 her through the painful task. 
 
 But it was not so — Mabel had fits and starts 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 201 
 
 of hope, but her natural character was that of 
 giving way to circumstances, with a despair as 
 energetic as her temperament ; and when she 
 found that she was to be almost a prisoner 
 within the gloomy walls of the Dower House, 
 without a prospect of the freedom of the woods 
 and lanes — that she was not deemed worthy to 
 be trusted, and that all communication between 
 the Priory and Abbeylans, would be stopped, 
 till the dangerous inmate had left the shelter 
 of the Lorimers roof, then indeed, her despair 
 grew great, and her wretchedness extreme, 
 whilst the power of the Lady Hester Sibley 
 reigned triumphant. 
 
 It was on the very day of the luckless pro- 
 posal, that Jessie Lorimer and the old Priest, 
 departed from the Priory, and a very short 
 time afterwards, the Lorimers and Clement 
 Raynier also left, for they were going to spend 
 some months on the Continent. 
 
 It was an understood affair, that the Lorimer 
 family were not to intrude themselves at Ab- 
 K 5 
 
202 THE OLD 
 
 beylans, after Lady Hester's haughty and inso- 
 lent rejection of their valued friend ; but Mrs. 
 Lorimer mourned the cause from the bottom 
 of her heart, for she knew everything that had 
 passed, and pitied the once joyous Mabel, 
 whose young, summer days were to be thus 
 early clouded. 
 
 However, the families parted thus, and on 
 the first evening after their departure, when the 
 sound of the chapel bell, was no longer brought 
 to the ears of the melancholy Mabel, as she 
 walked with her mother and sister on the 
 terrace, a full sense of the truth that they were 
 all gone, and she left, came over her, and break- 
 ing suddenly from her sister's arms, she sat her 
 down on the low battlements and burst into an 
 agony of tears. 
 
 It was remarked that during that evening 
 Lady Hester sat alone in her room, and would 
 not be disturbed — he had turned abruptly 
 away, when Mabel thus betrayed the feelings 
 that were so painfully agitating her, and 
 
DOWER HoasE. 203 
 
 silently entered the house, but no one knew 
 the subject of her secret meditations. Anne 
 alone guessed them. She could not help think- 
 ing, her mother would one day relent, and in a 
 moment of grief and anguish, at sight of her 
 sister's sufferings, she breathed this hope, and 
 poor Mabel revived upon it. It bore a shade 
 of probability, and she cherished it so fondly, 
 that Anne had never the heart to blight it; 
 and so progressed affairs at Abbeylans, when 
 Lord and Lady Randall came over to spend a 
 month at the Dower House. 
 
 As matters had occurred, it was perhaps as 
 well, that Hester and her husband had not re- 
 turned, (as was first proposed), from Buckleigh, 
 with Lady Hester to Abbeylans, for it would 
 but have made " confusion worse confounded." 
 Hester's spirits were now so high, that to 
 Mabel they were positively oppressive, and the 
 two sisters seemed more to have changed charac- 
 ters, than to be the demure Hester, and glad 
 Mabel of one short twelvemonth back 1 
 
204 THE OLD 
 
 *' Depend upon it he will propose again !" 
 was the whispered opinion of Lady Randall 
 to Anne, " mcike poor Mabel think so at all 
 events — but I am convinced he will, the moment 
 he is able to offer proper settlement — as a man 
 of honour ; he must, and if Mab's health and 
 happiness are really at stake, surely my mother 
 may be brought to wave a few prejudices, in 
 favor of so amiable and exemplary a Roman 
 Catholic as Clement Raynier — is it not strange 
 Anne, that Mab is the only one of us, who lost 
 a heart to our Priory neighbours." 
 
 " Alas, alas !" sighed Anne, who looked upon 
 the subject, with a sort of sad and dark for- 
 boding, " better had we lost our hearts to the 
 whole of the Lorlmer family altogether, than 
 that poor Mab had singled out Clement Ray- 
 nier ; for my mother might not have been quite 
 so indignant, had it been the heir of the Priory, 
 instead of his humble friend." 
 
 *^ Never mind !" said Hester gaily, '* take 
 my word for It he proposes again I and 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 205 
 
 when that happy day arrives, I will do my best 
 to advocate his cause, and make poor Mab 
 a merry, little soul once more !" 
 
 Guy's letters to his mother and sisters on the 
 subject, were incomprehensible ; to Anne's in- 
 finite surprise, he had taken his mother's side 
 — applauded the principles which had prompted 
 the rejection —hoped Mabel would be brought 
 round to a proper state of dutiful submission, 
 and finally trusted, that his excellent friend 
 Raynier might soon get over his disappoint- 
 ment ! 
 
 " This from Guy !" ejaculated Mabel with a 
 blank look of dismay, when she read the above 
 sentiments repeated in a letter to herself— 
 *' this from Guy, who was so firmly on our 
 side ! — whose word with Mama would have had 
 instant weight — who might have turned her 
 round his finger ; — oh, Anne ! for him to act 
 thus ! — and just at this moment too — when 
 my mother's feelings have not had time, to 
 settle down into positive and unappeasable 
 
206 THE OLD 
 
 anger — when so much might have been done 
 by one word from Guy !" 
 
 *' We must not judge or blaroe him," said 
 Anne sadly, '' for we do not know what hia 
 reasons may be." 
 
 And little indeed, did these two innocent, 
 young hearts see through tlie depth of Guy's 
 manoeuvres — little did they dream, that the con- 
 clusion of every one of those flattering letters 
 to his mother, was a request that out of her 
 own slender means, she would enable him to 
 meet exorbitant Christmas demands, to which 
 his finances were utterly inadequate ! — and 
 little did Anne and Mabel guess, that the in- 
 creasing severity of their mother's brow, was 
 owing much more to anguish on Guy's account, 
 than anger on Mabel's. 
 
 Every one about Abbeylans knew, that Lady 
 Hester lived up to her means, and that though 
 she never exceeded them, she had certainly 
 nothing to spare ; but she was so rigorous and 
 sensitive on the subject of debt, that she would 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 207 
 
 rather have sold her marriage jewels, than suffer 
 a demand upon herself, or any one of her chil- 
 dren to remain unanswered —therefore, whilst 
 writing cheque after cheque, to free her son 
 from his embarrassments, her troubled mind 
 was revolving in itself, the various methods, by 
 which she herself might best defray the ex- 
 penses, consequent on Hester's marriage, and 
 the burning of the Dower House stables. Little 
 then, did Mabel think, what an insignificant 
 object in the Lady Hester's eyes, was Clement 
 Raynier, compared with the other and weightier 
 affairs, now pressing on her spirits, and calling 
 for her attention. 
 
 " My anxieties rob me of all rest !" was the 
 exclamation wrung from the mother one day, 
 by the affectionate questionings of Lady Kandall 
 — " it is vain to conceal the position, in which 
 Guy has placed himself, by his thoughtlessness 
 and imprudence — I ara sure he is not wilfully 
 extravagant, but his friends lead him into such 
 excesses, that I am at last compelled to con- 
 
208 THE OLD 
 
 fess it is no longer in my power to assist him — 
 I know how it will end ! — he must appeal to 
 his brother Hugh, he poor fellow ! must be tried 
 next, and then perhaps our united efforts may 
 save Guy ; for he must be saved for the credit 
 of the family." 
 
 And thus stood affairs at the Dower House, 
 when the county was thrown into a 
 state of delight and excitement, by the an- 
 nouncement of the expected return of Sir 
 Hugh Sibley's regiment in the spring ; and the 
 prospect of seeing Sir Hugh himself on his 
 own fair property of Abbey lans, before the 
 summer's sun, had withered the freshness of it* 
 beauty. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " The world when men and women meet, 
 Is rich in sage remark," 
 
 PhclipVan Artevelde. 
 
 Spring came — spring with all its freshness and 
 flowers, and luxuriance of beauty, and Anne 
 Sibley, as she bounded along the garden ter- 
 races, and stooped to the sweet scented hya- 
 cinths, which were blowing round her in 
 profusion, hoped that her brother's coming 
 might not be long delayed ; for her spirits were 
 
210 
 
 THE OLD 
 
 reviving and rising with tlie season, and she 
 fancied that the change and novelty of Sir 
 Hugh's presence, would do Mabel more good, 
 than anything that it was in the power of cir- 
 cumstances to offer. 
 
 Mabel, whose laugh echoing through those 
 woods of Abbeylans, was once the loudest and 
 the lightest, was now seldom seen even to 
 emile ; but followed her sister with the iz;rave 
 step and clouded brow, which betokened the 
 troubled spirit within. 
 
 In her mother*s presence, poor Mabel knew 
 she dared not exhibit the peevish petulance, 
 which was lavished on Anne in their constant 
 companionship ; therefore though Lady Hester 
 silently marked the increasing depression of 
 her daughter, there w^as nothing in her con- 
 duet, which could call for censure or even 
 remark ; and Lady Hester waited patiently 
 for Hugh (who was to meet his brother at Ab- 
 beylans) in order that his conversation 
 might reconcile the wayward girl to her fate. 
 
DOWER HOUSi;. 211 
 
 At last the happy day arrived, and young 
 Sir Hugh Sibley came — all was rejoicing, both 
 far and near, and the Dower House was full 
 of ojuests a2;ain. 
 
 Fondly and proudly, did Lady Hester gaze 
 on her fine young son, and well might she, for 
 there were few who could stand comparison 
 with him. 
 
 At this period Sir Hugh was just seven-and- 
 twenty, standing six feet two, with the firmest 
 of slight figures, and the handsomest of sun- 
 burnt faces. Frank, free, and gallant, he 
 was a being to win and attach any heart, 
 and before he had been a week in the nei«rh- 
 bourhood, people acknowledged that Lady 
 Hester's adoration was quite excusable, although 
 it was so ostentatiously exhibited. 
 
 She worshipped that son ! — she was for 
 ever following his footsteps, and watching 
 every turn of his countenance — hanging on 
 his words, and living in the sunshine of 
 his smiles; and truly his was a joyous heart, 
 
212 
 
 THE OLD 
 
 and a glad spirit, and high and low, rich 
 and poor, all idolized young Sir Hugh Sibley. 
 
 '' And in good truth !" quoth Mr. Fortescue, 
 the guardian, to Lady Bridget Doneraile, as 
 he sat by her side, and watched the dancers at 
 the grand ball at Abbeylans — " in good truth 
 she has reason to be proud of that noble fel- 
 low — and to be a proud mother altogether; 
 for look at the Lady Randall of Buckleigh ! 
 and then there is fair Anne Sibley, and that 
 lovely Mabel — and even graceless Guy, with 
 all his faults, is good in the main — what thinks 
 your ladyship ?" 
 
 *' That the Sibleys have always been a fine 
 race," was the Lady Bridget's answer ; " but 
 I differ with you, as to Miss Mabel's looks, and 
 I consider Mr. Sibley a disgrace to his cloth, 
 whilst he might have been an honour to any 
 other profession — as to that fair young twiu, 
 poor Mabel, I never saw a girl so changed 
 — Lady Hester has somewhat to answer for, 
 there—" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 213 
 
 " Lady Hester has been wise and prudent," 
 said Mr. Fortescue, in a piqued tone of voice. 
 
 " Wise in a worldly point of view !" re- 
 torted the Lady Bridget, '* but not prudent, 
 or Mr. Clement Eaynier would never have 
 had the opportunity of winning a heart, and 
 blighting a fate, as he has had in this 
 family." 
 
 " Nay, madam !" returned Mr. Fortescue, 
 " there is no accounting for the ways and 
 means, which young people discover, for losing 
 and winning hearts ; and as to Mabel's fate 
 being blighted, I take leave to remind your 
 ladyship that my ward is hardly eighteen." 
 
 " So much the worse, sir !" said Lady 
 Bridget testily, *' for she has all the more time 
 before her, for brooding over the destruction of 
 her first hopes. You may differ with me, sir, 
 but I speak the mind of the whole neighbour- 
 hood, when I declare, that however repugnant 
 to the feelings of Lady Hester, may be the 
 match in question, she should pause ere she 
 
214 THE OLD 
 
 finally destroy the health and happiness of 
 that fair young daughter of hers. You may 
 BUiile, sir, but Mabel Sibley is wasting away, 
 and if you saw her as seldom as I do, you 
 would be as sensible of the change as I am." 
 
 This conversation, extracted from the hot- 
 tempered Lady Bridget Doneraile, in the 
 excitement of the moment, when ^Mabel, like 
 a })ale shadow, stood before her in the circle 
 of tlie dancers, was interrupted by the crowd 
 movinor towards one end of the lonoj room, 
 where a dense assemblage had formed, to gaze 
 on the helle of the ball, the Lady Anne Eve- 
 lyn, flying through the lines with the air of 
 a sylph, in the spirited figure of Sir Roger 
 de Coverley. 
 
 Attired in a pink crape dress covered with 
 a shower of silver, her hair powdered with 
 Marechale^ and point lappets floating from the 
 top of her high coiffure, stood the Lady Anne 
 Evelyn, buoyant, noisy, and yet graceful ; 
 dancing merrily with Sir Hugh Sibley, and 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 215 
 
 dividing her attention, equally between him 
 and Harry Fortescue, who stood rather in the 
 rear, and had charge of her handkerchief and 
 huge bouquet, whilst the large, glittering fan 
 in the hands of Sir Hugh, showed that she had 
 at all events been impartial. 
 
 " A finished coquette 1" murmured old Mr. 
 Fortescue to himself, as he glanced from her 
 radiant face, to the downcast beauty of Anne 
 Sibley, " a flirt in every look ! trying too to 
 give you the heart ache my gentle Anne, but 
 that shall never be." 
 
 And the next moment, the old man had 
 manoeuvred so skilfully, that his son's atten- 
 tion was directed towards Anne, and Anne's 
 hand instantly claimed for the next dance. 
 There was a pained look on her fjice, when 
 she took her place, and the feelings, of which 
 she had first been sensible at the Parsonage, 
 on the night preceding their departure, again 
 asserted their sway, as she marked the care- 
 less freedom of Lady Anne Evelyn's manners 
 
216 THE OLD 
 
 to Henry Fortescue, and his own gallant air 
 of devotion to every word she uttered. It 
 was in the midst of this train of thought, that 
 Lady Anne herself addressed her, and whis- 
 pered lightly — 
 
 " Lost my heart, Anne ! — lost for ever at 
 last !" 
 
 And Anne coloured violently and painfully, 
 for she saw that her partner had overheard 
 the whisper, though little did the giddy Lady 
 Anne heed that. 
 
 '' Yes — lost !" she continued, " for it is 
 vain to say it is only mislaid for the time. Mr. 
 Fortescue is always telling me I mislay my 
 heart, but now it is lost. Oh, Anne 1 your 
 brother Hugh !" and away went Lady Anne, 
 with a look of whimsical despair, leaving her 
 friend with a brighter smile, and happier brow, 
 than she had worn throughout that evening. 
 
 All this was not lost on Henry Fortescue, 
 who observed every look and tone, and judged 
 them each by his own wise, worldly wisdom 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 217 
 
 and knowled2:e. The rest of that eveninsj 
 he was hovering about Anne Sibley, and 
 breathing what would be called in these days 
 '' soft nothings " in her ear. Lady Anne was 
 the centre of attraction, and it was not to his 
 purpose, to make one more admirer amongst 
 so many ; he would be " tout ou rien^'' there- 
 fore he installed himself by the side of her 
 gentle friend, and after a time found himself 
 (as usual) as irresistibly won by her sweetness, 
 as he was attracted by her beauty. 
 
 A few days after this ball at Abbeylans 
 came one at Castle Evelyn, and Anne Sibley 
 was observed by her sisters, to take more than 
 usual pains that evening, that her hoop should 
 set gracefully, and her hair retain its scented 
 powder ; and Mabel, with a melancholy smile, 
 could not resist noticing it. 
 
 '' Bethink you, Anne, even had you no hoop 
 at all, you would be still the same in his eyes 
 love is blind to dress, my sister." 
 
 *' Love, Mabel ! nay, you jest." 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE OLD 
 
 ''Why say I jest?" returned Mabel peevishly, 
 " can I not see, alas too plainly ! all the symp- 
 toms that I know so well ? But never mind 
 — go on, Anne! be blind! perhaps 'ttvere 
 better till the very words are spoken — but 
 take my word, sooner or later they must come 
 — and then you will say how wise poor silly 
 Mab has grown. Ah me !" she added, burst- 
 ing into a tremulous sigh, "how bitterly I 
 have been taught by experience, to know those 
 signs !" 
 
 " But I have seen no signs," said Anne, half 
 fearfully — "on the contrary Anne Evelyn — " 
 
 " Away with Anne Evelyn !" exclaimed 
 Mab impetuously, " who cares for her, save 
 you and 1?"— not Henry Fortescue, be sure! 
 Come, haste you, Anne ; you have but one 
 lappet on ! Heaven bless thee, where are your 
 wits wandering?" 
 
 Love may be blind to dress in mbuite^ as 
 i\ label remarked, but love is certainly not in- 
 sensible to appearance in general ; or the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 219 
 
 piercing eyes of Henry Fortescue, would not 
 have dwelt quite so long, or so approvingly, on 
 Anne's tall, stately figure, as she accepted his 
 hand, to lead her along the gallery, as each 
 happened to encounter the other at the end 
 of it. 
 
 " I congratulate you," he whispered, as he 
 threw open the door of the drawing-room, " I 
 never saw you look so well! — your white robe 
 puts me quite out of conceit, with a certain 
 pink one, for which you unjustly accused me 
 of having a penchant.''^ 
 
 There was no time to answer, for Anne had 
 advanced into the room, by the time the last 
 words were spoken, and she hardly heard 
 them. As they drove along to Castle Evelyn, 
 however. Lady Hester accidentally mentioned 
 Lady Anne Evelyn, and the sensation her 
 appearance generally excited. 
 
 '^ I acknowledge it," said Henry Fortescue, 
 as if the remark had been made exclusively to 
 him, although Sir Hugh Sibley was one of the 
 L 3 
 
220 THE OLD 
 
 four inside, " She is universally admired, and 
 yet, wherefore ? It passes my comprehension, 
 to imagine in what consists her charm of a^ - 
 pearance, for she has no beauty." 
 
 '* This from you, my friend," laughed Sir 
 Hugh, striking him good humouredly on the 
 shoulder, " from you, her ladyship's j)reux 
 clievalier ?" 
 
 " I grant her charm of manner," laughed 
 Fortescue in return, *' but it savours tant soit 
 pen of coquetry notwithstanding — 1 tell you 
 exactly my opinion of her now — I affirm that 
 she is a person to admire passionately, and to 
 love— little !" 
 
 There Avas a heart beating tumultuously in 
 the carriage, as these words were spoken ; and 
 as the lamps at the lodge gates of Castle 
 Evelyn, flashed upon the four faces, there was 
 one check burning with a richer crim.son than was 
 its wont ; and Anne Sibley drew suddenly back, 
 as her glance told her,^that she was observed 
 by those piercing eyes from which nothing 
 seemed to escape. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 221 
 
 It was a splendid ball, and minuets were 
 being danced, when the family from the Dower 
 House arrived. Lady Hester entered, leaning 
 on the arm of her son — Anne followed with 
 Henry Fortescue by her side — so great was 
 the crowd in consequence of the minuets 
 requiring so much space, that they were at last 
 thoroughly tired of standing, and moved slowly 
 on in search of seats. 
 
 *' Come vvith me," said Henry Fortescue 
 suddenly to Anne, as soon as the parties who 
 were accosting her every instant, gave him 
 opportunity to engage her attention — " come 
 to some cooler spot, for the heat is unbear- 
 able in this room — what say you to the conser- 
 vatories ; I see they are brilliantly lighted 
 up." 
 
 No doubt they were, and no doubt they 
 were tempting enough, but Anne was too 
 strict an adherent to her mother's manners and 
 opinions, to wander away from her side, alone 
 with any partner in the world ; so she quietly 
 
222 THE OLD 
 
 slipped her arm within that of Mabel, and then 
 courteously acquiesced in the proposal. 
 
 In the centre of the conservatory, high on his 
 silver perch, and excited by the music and 
 lights, to a most talkative pitch of happiness, 
 was Giobbe, running backwards and forwards, 
 and swinging gracefully from his chain. 
 Round him stood a group, laughing at his ex- 
 clamations, and paying compliments to his 
 mistress, who was vainly endeavouring to make 
 him repeat his Paternoster, and Ave Maria — 
 Mabel joined the party, but Anne and her 
 companion, stood by a fountain watching the 
 gold fish, when suddenly Henry Fortescue bent 
 close to her ear, and said, 
 
 '^ Listen, Anne !" 
 
 She looked up hastily, and at that moment 
 the parrot's voice articulated, 
 
 " Sweet Anne, I love thee !" 
 
 Anne's eyes fell, for those of her companion 
 were seeking to meet them, but as she stooped 
 in trembling silence over the limpid water of 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 223 
 
 the fountain, she saw his reflection again 
 bending to her ear, and clear and distinct 
 came the words, though hardly uttered above a 
 breath, 
 
 " You knew it, sweet Anne — surely you 
 knew it !" 
 
 f^ 
 
224 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIIL 
 
 And visit not with a severer scorn, 
 
 Faults whose deep root was with our nature born,, 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Nor dwell on points of creed ^ assuming right 
 To judge how holy in his Maker's sight, 
 Is he who at a different altar bends, 
 For hence have ris'n the bitterest feuds of friends. 
 
 Mrs. Norton. 
 
 It was summer at Abbeylans — summer in all 
 its mellowed richness, and the weather so 
 sultry, that hardly a breath of air waved the 
 long clusters of clematis flowers, as tluiy "^ ex- 
 haled their languid sweetness in the path, 
 where for the space of many a long hour. 
 
DO-WER HOUSE. 225 
 
 Sir Hugh Sibley and his sister Mabel had 
 been walking. 
 
 Lady Hester had laid her plots and plans 
 deeply, but they had failed. She had exliorted 
 Guy, to exert his influence over the one rebelli- 
 ous scion of the house, and she had prevailed 
 on Mr. Fortescue, the guardian, to essay his 
 authority. She had won Hester and Lord 
 Randall to her side, and still Mabel stood firm. 
 Mabel was determined not to forget Clement 
 Kaynier, and the more she was persuaded 
 against him, the more tenaciously she clung to 
 his memory. 
 
 Lady Hester then appealed to her eldest son, 
 for Guy had long since returned to the country, 
 in which he performed what he was pleased to 
 call his " duties." 
 
 Hugh was requested by his mother to tell 
 Mabel, that she was making herself the subject 
 of conversation to the whole neighbourhood. 
 
 *' By my looks ?" asked Mabel as she hung 
 
 L 5 ^- 
 
226 THE OLD 
 
 on her brother's arm — " is it of them they 
 talk? can I help looking ill, and worn, when 
 I take no interest in anything that passes 
 around me? Oh, Hugh! tell them to let me 
 alone, and not talk, and preach, and teaze me 
 thus, for they are indeed worrying me into my 
 grave !" 
 
 '' But, dearest Mabel, you are injuring your 
 health," pleaded Sir Hugh. 
 
 " I care not," was Mabel's answer, " only 
 let me be unmolested. I complain not — I 
 disobey none of my mother's commands — I do 
 my duty to the extent of my power, and I 
 suffer in silence — if suffering is a crime, then 
 I am guilty, but over my feelings I have no 
 control." 
 
 " Think then, dear Mabel," persevered Sir 
 Hugh, " of the feelings of others — it grieves 
 and wounds my mother to see you giving way 
 thus." 
 
 " It wounds her pride, because of the cause 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 227 
 
 — not her heart, Hugh!" interrupted Mabel 
 warmly. 
 
 '* And then again," rejoined her brother, 
 " forgive me for saying so, Mabel, but this 
 visible effect of a wise and prudent prohibition 
 is— is— " 
 
 *' Speak the words !" retorted the passionate 
 Mabel vehemently, '' say them plainly ! is un« 
 maidenly you mean ! is derogatory likewise to 
 the dignity of a Sibley ! is lowering me to a 
 level with the unworthy object of my con- 
 stancy ! Ah me !" she added dropping her 
 voice into a tone of the utmost despondency, 
 " you never knew him !" 
 
 There was a long pause, during which Sir 
 Hugh seemed lost in thought, and when he 
 again spoke, his tone w^as tinged with sadness. 
 
 *' Then your mind is resolved never to forget 
 him, Mabel." 
 
 " Never whilst hope remains," said Mabel 
 firmly, " and never till every hope is quenched, 
 by the ending of life itself." 
 
228 THE OLD 
 
 *' What ?" asked Sir Hugh, as though her 
 words had given him a new light, " have you 
 then still hope?" 
 
 " Most assuredly !" exclaimed Mabel, sur- 
 prised in her turn, "do you not know the terms 
 on which he was rejected ?" 
 
 " Let me hear them from you," said her 
 brotlier evasively. 
 
 " He was poor!" answered Mabel in a 
 whisper, as though she fancied and feared, the 
 trees and flowers would hear, " he was poor, 
 Hugh, but time may remove this obstacle." 
 
 '' And if it does," interrupted Sir Hugh, 
 " know you not, my sister, that the greatest — 
 the moat insurmountable obstacle still re- 
 mains." 
 
 '' You mean his religion ?" said Mabel, 
 eagerly. " Yes, Hugh, but my mother never 
 gave that reason as an obstacle ! — She did not 
 at the first, and she dare not now ! — nay, chide 
 me not for violence I — I am violent ! — my 
 mother has a world of supporters on her side. 
 
BOWER HOUSE. 229 
 
 and he — he — Clement — has but me I therefore 
 iudcre me not, neither condemn me for standins; 
 by his side ! My mother rejected Mr. Eaynier 
 as an unfit match for her daughter, on the 
 grounds that he could not support me in my 
 proper sphere — that, meant to tell him he was 
 poor — once rich, Hugh, I claim my mother's 
 sanction, on the grounds that the obstacle iy 
 removed !" 
 
 *' Not so!" was Sir Hugh's melancholy reply, 
 "alas, Mabel! if you could remove the one 
 greater obstacle, there might be hope — but as 
 it is—" 
 
 *' You complain of my depression," said 
 Mabel angrily, " and you take this method of 
 dissipating it ? I thank you, Hugh." 
 
 And before he could stop her, she had flown 
 from him, and retreated to her own room. 
 
 Sir Hugh was very far from satisfied with 
 the progress of poor Mabel's destiny, for it 
 boded nothino; but ill. He was vexed and dis- 
 appointed too at the abrupt manner in which 
 
230 THE OLD 
 
 she broke off the conversation ; just as he hoped 
 he was leading her to dwell on the serious con- 
 sequences, of a difference of religious principles 
 in husband and wife. It looked inten- 
 tional, and in that case, in winning her heart, 
 he trembled lest Raynier should also have won 
 her from her church. 
 
 This was a dreadful thought, and he in- 
 sinuated to his mother, whilst reporting the 
 result of the conversation, that it was to be 
 lamented, that no greater confidence existed 
 between herself and her child, by which the 
 inmost soul of the latter, might have been 
 kindly, gently, but thoroughly sifted. 
 
 *' Impossible !" was Lady Hester's haughty 
 reply, " for there is a distance betw^een mother 
 and child, as superior and inferior, which it was 
 never my maxim to infringe, and never my in- 
 tention to lessen." 
 
 " Then, madam," returned Sir Hugh, in a 
 voice tremulous with agitation, *' pardon me 
 for saying to you, that by this line of conduct, 
 
BOWER HOUSE. 231 
 
 you incur tlie awful responsibility of my sister's 
 fate, in another world as well as this ; for 
 if she w^ere ever to marry Mr. Clement 
 Raynier — " 
 
 '^ She never will I" interrupted Lady Hester 
 vehemently, " urge not this subject on me, 
 Hugh ! — as long as I live, and walk on the 
 earth, Mabel never marries that man — she 
 knows this determination as well as I do my- 
 self; and if you love me, my son ! you will 
 not harass me by aggravating my perplexity 
 — for what with one child, and what with 
 another, truly I am sorely tried !" 
 
 " But one word more, madam !" said Sir 
 Hugh, '' have you considered the great danger, 
 of leaving Mabel, thus to content herself with 
 the bare reason, that you forbid her to be 
 Mr.Raynier's wife? — have you recollected, that 
 whilst uttering this decision, you have not 
 given her your most powerful reason — his 
 religion ?" 
 
 *' Oh, those Lorimers !" exclaimed Lady 
 
232 'THE OLD 
 
 Hester fervently, as she clasped her hands, and 
 raised her eyes, with a look of hatred and 
 contempt, " would to Heaven that their 
 insidious tongues, had never won their way 
 into this community — would to Heaven, 
 there had been no Priory on the face of the 
 globe !" 
 
 '* Nay, madam 1" interrupted her son mildly, 
 " suffer me to ask an answer to my question 
 — have you inculcated on Mabel's mind, the 
 same disapprobation of, and repugnance to 
 Mr. Raynier's religion — which you entertain 
 yourself?" 
 
 *' From her childhood upwards," replied 
 Lady Hester, " she and her sisters have been 
 well aware of my sentiments on that head — 
 there has been no intimacy between them and 
 Miss Lorimer, and my daughters have never 
 entered the house even, without me by their 
 side ; therefore if Mabel's love be stronger than 
 her principles — if she be tempted to fly in my 
 face, in utter and wilful disobedience, and 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 233 
 
 leave her widowed mother's roof, to become 
 the wife of that victim of the Lorimers, I shall 
 have done with her !" 
 
 Sir Hugh was silenced, subdued, and shocked 
 by his mother's unwonted emotion and energy 
 — shocked too by the hard, unrelenting nature 
 of her animosity, and the severity of her 
 treatment to the offending child. 
 
 These were wretched times at the Dower 
 House, for the family party were now alone ; 
 and except when enlivened by Henry Fortes- 
 cue's riding over from Castle Evelyn, where 
 he was again a guest, the hours sped mourn- 
 fully enough — Anne's face was the only happy 
 one in the house, and even she sometimes 
 sighed, in very bitterness, over the change that 
 seemed gradually overshadowing their bright 
 summer days. Her own hopes, fears, doubts, 
 and dilemmas, were all locked in her own 
 heart, and not even to Mabel was a hint 
 breathed as to future expectations ; and yet 
 
234 THE OLD 
 
 in secret that young heart beat proudly and 
 triumphantly at the thought, that in the very 
 atmosphere of Lady Anne Evelyn's attrac- 
 tions, the words had been whispered to her, 
 which, her upright and unsophisticated nature 
 believed, could be whispered to none other, by 
 him who had uttered them. 
 
 Be that as it might, and though she was 
 only beginning to discover, that it was a 
 blessing, Squire Eardley Spence's having been 
 so finally rejected, the quick perception of her 
 brother Hugh, had already marked what was 
 going on, and he made his observations — one 
 day in particular, when he casually named 
 young Fortescue, Anne's torrent of blushes 
 called a laugh to his lips, which it was impossi- 
 ble to check. 
 
 " No need of words from either you or 
 Mab !" was his merry ridicule — " I never saw 
 such tell tale faces in my life ! But tell me, 
 Anne, without all that ' proper hue' if possi- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 235 
 
 ble, how long has Harry Fortescue been thus 
 passing his leisure hours between Castle Eve- 
 lyn and Abbeylans ?" 
 
 " Some time," said Anne abruptly. 
 
 " Some time?" echoed Sir Hugh, and he 
 raised his eyebrows and compressed his lips, 
 '^ I understood from Guy that he had been 
 living abroad till very lately." 
 
 '' Till within some months," persisted Anne, 
 without raising her eyes from her tapestry 
 frame ; and her brother said no more ; but the 
 next time the object of his enquiries rode over 
 to Abbeylans, he took especial note of his 
 conduct. 
 
 The result of the scrutiny was satisfactory — 
 Lady Hester received him with a courtesy 
 which she never lavished on people whom she 
 considered unworthy, and Anne's manners 
 were so exact a copy of her mother's, that it 
 was evident he was equally agreeable to her- 
 self. Mabel even evinced a shade of interest 
 in his conversation ; so Sir Hugh extended 
 
236 THE OLD 
 
 the hand of friendship towards him ; but he 
 did not quite understand, when the path 
 seemed so clear, why Harry Fortescue, in the 
 course of such fair time, had not openly 
 avowed the sentiments, with which he was 
 apparently inspired. 
 
 He was an only child, and a thousand a 
 year was the income his father allowed him. 
 On this he might marry if he chose, and as 
 ill Anne's manner there was nothing^ to dis- 
 courage, Sir Hugh, with the suspicious 
 tendency of his character, soon began to have 
 an idea, that Harry Fortescue was simply 
 amusing himself— e?^^, that he was trilling 
 with the affections of fair Anne Sibley ! Fire 
 flashed from the eyes of the impetuous young 
 soldier, as this idea took possession of his 
 imagination — the very notion gave him mingled 
 feelings of pain, anger and uneasiness. That 
 his gentle sister should be made the sport of 
 idle amusement to any man, was presumption 
 not to be endured — in short the Dowser 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 237 
 
 House at this epoch, seemed to be the asylum 
 of perturbed spirits ; for each inhabitant car- 
 ried a restless power within his heart, which 
 etfectually banished that tranquillity and peace, 
 so necessary to domestic happiness. 
 
238 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder. 
 Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
 Remember to have heard. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 '' 1 have no fears for Anne," mused Lady 
 Hester one evening, as she sat on the terrace 
 with Sir Hugh after supper, and slowly waved 
 away, with a gigantic fan, the myriads of 
 summer flies, which were humming round 
 her — " I have no kind of alarm as to Anne 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 239 
 
 for she is one of those, who seem to strew 
 their own path with flowers. She has an 
 inward calmness, which sheds a spirit of con- 
 tentment over every outward inconvenience. 
 She never yet gave me a moment's pain, 
 nor have I ever troubled myself about her 
 fate, for I have no fears with regard to 
 her — not so with Mabel alas ! Mabel is 
 like an alien — so wayward — so passionate— 
 so perverse ! — and yet, Hugh, those girls are 
 twins !" 
 
 " Mabel has been sorely tried, mother," said 
 Sir Hugh thoughtfully. 
 
 " We differ," was the short reply. 
 
 '' And twins as they are," proceeded Sir 
 Hugh, as though he had not heard the inter- 
 ruption, '^ no two creatures born in differ- 
 ent hemispheres, could be more utterly opposite 
 in disposition — one so passionate, as you say — 
 the other so placid and enduring. I look 
 upon Anne as the sweetest character I ever 
 met." 
 
240 THE OLD 
 
 '* Enduring appears to me an inapplicable 
 term," said Lady Hester, " they have neither 
 of them yet had occasion to learn the art of 
 endurino;." 
 
 Sir Hugh sighed and dropped the subject, 
 for it was one, on which he had now ceased to 
 argue ; and when Lady Hester again spoke it 
 was in another strain. 
 
 Guy was the fresh theme, and Guy was 
 spoken of in terms of the deapest affection, 
 and Sir Hugh listened with silent surprise; 
 for certainly Guy was the most graceless of the 
 Sibleys, yet Lady Hester could see no fault 
 in him. 
 
 It was the eve of a proposed journey by 
 Sir Hugh, to visit his brother at his Parsonage, 
 and enquire into his affairs ; for they were 
 beginning to assume an unfavorable aspect ; 
 and difficulties, the consequence of countless 
 acts of folly, and extravagance, were thicken- 
 ing round him. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 241 
 
 Warmed by the subject, Lady Hester and 
 her son, lingered long after their usual hour, 
 on the terrace, and never observed that the 
 evening was closing in ; until warned by the 
 damps that were falling, and then they 
 parted. 
 
 " God speed you, Hugh !" were the Lady 
 Hester's last words, as she pressed her lips on 
 the forehead, so respectfully bent to meet the 
 parting embrace, " God speed you, Hugh, and 
 bring you back to us in equal health and hap- 
 piness. 
 
 The next morning dawned hot and foggy — 
 there was a weight in the air, betokening an 
 impending thunder storm, but Anne and Mabel 
 were up with the lark to make their brother's 
 breakfast, before he departed; for Lady 
 Hester was not well, and did not intend to 
 leave her chamber. 
 
 No sooner had he taken leave, than they 
 went out upon the terrace, to breathe the early 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 THE OLD 
 
 morning air, and see if they could perceive 
 symptoms of the coming storm. 
 
 " 'Tis an oppressive day !" said Mabel, 
 seating herself on the sloping grass, which led 
 down to the first range of the garden terraces, 
 " I have a feeling of weight over my head like 
 a threatening misfortune." 
 
 " Say rather a threatening peal of thunder," 
 answered Anne laughingly, " though I hope 
 it may not overtake us before all the rose 
 leaves are gathered ;" and she ran merrily 
 down a flight of steps, to gather the leaves that 
 had fallen during the night, talking all the time 
 to her languid, inert sister as she watched Anne's 
 busy occupation. 
 
 It was not long, however, before an unan- 
 swered remark, caused Anne to retrace her 
 steps, and see if Mabel had moved beyond 
 hearing ; for the air was so still that their 
 voices were perfectly audible to each other, 
 even when a turn in the terrace took them out 
 of sight. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 243 
 
 No — Mabel was still in the same spot, but 
 she was no longer languidly stretched on the 
 parched grass. She was slowly rising — 
 her eyes fixed on some distant object, with an 
 unflinching gaze, and her parted lips, and quick 
 drawn breathings, showing it was an object of 
 no common interest. 
 
 Anne was at her side in one bound, for 
 she was startled by her sister's appearance ; 
 and as she rapidly questioned her, as to what 
 she saw, Mabel raised her hand, without moving 
 her eyes, and pointed, whilst she grasped 
 Anne's wrist, to thin, clear spires of blue smoke, 
 rising out of the woods in the direction of the 
 Priory. 
 
 Months had sped since Mabel's weary eyes 
 had rested on that ensign of the presence 
 of inmates at the Priory. Months had sped 
 since she had missed that welcome sight ! 
 Months had sped too, since by token or word 
 of any kind, she had had a single trace of the 
 existence of the Lorimer family ; and now — 
 M 3 
 
244 THE OLD 
 
 by the curling of the thin, blue smoke, her 
 beating heart was told, that they had come back 
 again ! 
 
 To Anne her wild delight was marvellous — 
 what could that return bring, but added 
 misery ? perhaps confirmed despair ! and in 
 all probability, a total and final breach 
 between the houses of the Priory and Abbey- 
 lans — yet Mabel hailed it, with a rapture 
 she never attempted to conceal, and gazed 
 upon it with swimming eyes, till Anne forcibly 
 drew her away, and insisted on her entering 
 the house. 
 
 Heavy drops of rain had begun to fall, and 
 there was a distant roll of thunder, w^hich told 
 that the storm was nearing. In the course 
 of an hour, it burst over their heads, with a 
 fury which sent the two sisters flying in terror 
 to their room ; where, in spite of the closed 
 shutters, flash after flash of lightning, darted 
 through the crevices, and illuminated the dark- 
 ness. 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 245 
 
 *' Mabel!" whispered Anne at last, when 
 the violence of the tempest had in a measure 
 subsided, and they looked up at each other, as 
 if to mark the eifect it had produced on each, 
 *' if they are come back, or coming, in what a 
 storm to arrive !" 
 
 '* Do you believe in omens ?" whispered 
 Mabel in return. 
 
 ''' No," said Anne, with an attempt to laugh, 
 *^ certainly not." 
 
 ^' Wait and see," answered Mabel solemnly, 
 " for I do — I never remember such a storm 
 as this —I wonder whether Mama is alarmed 
 — I wish, Anne, you would go and see." 
 
 Anne hesitated for a long time, for it 
 was not customary to intrude on Lady Hes- 
 ter's presence unsummoned — at last however, 
 she was over persuaded, and she went, expect- 
 ing to find her mother no! yet risen. 
 
246 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 There's nothing in this word can make me joy. 
 Life is as tedious as a twice told tale. 
 
 Shakspearb. 
 
 Instead of her mother being in bed, suiFering 
 from the effects of one of the distressing head- 
 aches, to which she was subject, Anne found 
 Lady Hester sitting amongst boxes and im- 
 perials, evidently preparing for a journey ; and 
 surprised at so unexpected a sight, she stopped 
 short at the door. 
 
DOWER HOU^. 247 
 
 " You may advance," said her mother, '' had 
 you not come thus unsummoned, I should have 
 sent for you, to tell you that I am better, and 
 that I propose going to Buckleigh this after- 
 noon; I have sent an express to warn Lady 
 Randall of our approach, and I expect both 
 yourself and sister, to be ready when the car- 
 riage drives to the door — that is all I have to 
 say — you may go." 
 
 '* But —but — " hesitated Anne, whose 
 thoughts were hovering between the storm, 
 and the Lorimers — " in such a storm, Mama?" 
 
 " The storm has passed over us," said 
 Lady Hester — " you have no time to lose, 
 Anne." 
 
 " But still, Madam — one word," pursued 
 Anne, " suffer me to tell you — perhaps I mean, 
 you do not know — " 
 
 '' There is nothing," interrupted her mother 
 with a marked emphasis, '* either in this house 
 or its neighbourhood, that I do not know — let 
 this suffice ; and assure yourself that for every 
 
248 THE OLD 
 
 action which you may deem unaccountable, I 
 have a motive! once more, Anne, must I 
 remind you — " 
 
 '' Dear Madam," said Anne hastily, '* I am 
 gone !" 
 
 Mabel's consternation when her sister an- 
 nounced this arrangement, was speechless — it 
 had never entered into her imagination, that she 
 should be carried off, without one word of a 
 reason of any kind — that she should be re- 
 moved, the very moment her courage had risen, 
 to aid and abet any measure that the Lorimers 
 might have returned to propose — for in her 
 heart, Mabel guessed there must be some 
 good news, or they would not have returned 
 thus suddenly. 
 
 It was in vain Anne soothed, and sympa- 
 thised, and assured her sister, that even were 
 the width of the world between themselves and 
 Mr. Raynier, it would matter very little — what 
 then was twelve miles ? 
 
 " The Lorimers, dearest Mab, to whom 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 249 
 
 Hester has always been very polite, will make 
 it a morning drive, and as to Clement, be sure 
 if he has good news to tell, his steed will have 
 to carry him at the swiftest of paces till he halt 
 at the gates of Buckleigh ; so be of good cheer 
 sweet sister mine !" 
 
 But Mabel would not be cheered ; there was 
 no consolation for her — she rested her head on 
 her hand, in the bitterness of her spirit, for 
 fear had at last taken possession of her, and 
 a feeling of faint despair, gradually crept 
 over the hopes she had so fondly, so wildly 
 cherished — now for the first time she re- 
 membered, that there was a feeling called 
 despair. 
 
 '' Till now," she murmured, *' I hoped ! but 
 now, I see the power of my mother's will in all 
 its dreadful magnitude. I see how weak my 
 opposition is ! — I see her rooted prejudice, and 
 I hope no longer." 
 
 It was now Anne's turn, to exhort and com- 
 M 5 
 
250 THE OLD 
 
 fort — to persuade her sister to bear up a little 
 longer, and to breathe the hopes into Mabel's 
 ear, which, strange to say, seemed dawning at 
 this " eleventh hour" in her own heart. 
 
 Anne could not tell what prompted this 
 measure, for there was little enough to second 
 it, but she was now beginning to feel it was 
 better to nerve Mabel's strength, to the exi- 
 gencies of chance moments, than let her sink 
 into an extreme of despondency, before there 
 was any decided and positive cause for doing 
 so — in short, poor Anne, would fain put off, by 
 any means the evil day. 
 
 As for Lady Hester, she fancied that the 
 very Fates were favouring her, for it would be 
 so very easy, to give out to the county, that 
 her sudden departure to Buckleigh, was in con- 
 sequence of a request, or a summons, on the 
 part of the Lady Randall, who had for some 
 time been in delicate health. 
 
 Buckleicrh in fact, was in a state of active 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 251 
 
 preparation for an expected heir ; therefore 
 Lady Hester Sibley's presence, in attendance 
 on her daughter, was no matter of surprise to 
 any one; nor did the sudden " order of march," 
 give rise to conjecture or remark, save the 
 hazarded sentence — 
 
 '' Perhaps lady Randall has been alarmed by 
 the storm!" 
 
 So far, all prospered. 
 
 When the old coach of the Dower House 
 and its silent freight, stopped at the long flight 
 of steps, leading up to the Hall of the Mansion, 
 Lady Hester was surprised to see the Baron, 
 standing in the open air, with an expression of 
 agitation and uneasiness on his features, very 
 unlike his usual look of stern indifference. 
 Her fears for Lady Randall instantly took 
 alarm ; she enquired eagerly, what was the 
 cause of his evident perturbation. 
 
 ^* A misfortune has overtaken my house," 
 was Lord Randall's answer, as, instead of 
 
252 THE OLD 
 
 following Lady Hester into the house, he 
 offered his hand, and led her to the lawn — 
 " a dire misfortune, betokening ill and evil, 
 though you may smile at the cause — 
 look !" 
 
 And he pointed to a gigantic oak which 
 stood in the centre of the wide expanse. The 
 lightning had struck it, and every branch was 
 blackened and withered — the enormous trunk 
 was split open from top to bottom, and the 
 proudest ornament of the park of Buckleigh, 
 was now a blighted, disfigured mass ! 
 
 " Anne !" whispered Mabel to her sister, 
 as she almost trembled with fear and fore- 
 boding — '' another omen 1 — what say you now, 
 my sister ?" 
 
 " That I am surprised at Lord Randall's 
 superstition," replied Anne, '' for how could 
 the tremendous storm of this morning, pass 
 without producing some effect amongst so many 
 trees ?" 
 
 " Yes 1" exclaimed the Baron turning sud- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 253 
 
 denly on his young sister-in-law, having 
 overheard her words — " but no storm ever 
 yet touched the famous oak of Buckleigh, 
 and we looked on it, as the prop of our 
 House !" 
 
254 THE OLD 
 
 CPIAPTER XXVL 
 
 All these things come upon us with a shock, 
 
 Unsettling many most familiar thoughts 
 
 And feelings, that were household in my heart. 
 
 Faber. 
 
 In the cheerless sitting-room of Guy Sibley's 
 Parsonage, by the open window, with its 
 cheerless view — languid from the intense heat 
 of the weather, and yet unable to find any- 
 thing like rest or repose, on the small hard 
 chairs, sat Sir Hugh Sibley, gazing out on the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 255 
 
 red-roofed village, glittering in the afternoon 
 sun, making every object between it and the 
 Parsonage, look redder and hotter than usual. 
 His eyes, which seemed so intent on that 
 distant view, were in reality fixed on vacancy ; 
 but Guy, who was making flies for bait, 
 had not penetration to observe this — he hap- 
 pened to look up, after a long and breathless 
 interval, in which he had been in all the 
 agonies, of twisting a small feather, into the 
 similitude of an unknown fly, and seeing his 
 brother's gaze fixed on the distance, he rather 
 hastily said — 
 
 ** Not much of a view certainly, but what 
 is that to me '^ I'm out all day you know ; 
 so I declare if the bishop \^ere to offer me a 
 better house, and a better view, and a better 
 per annum, I would not change my county — 
 eh, Hugh ?" 
 
 " Apropos to what ?" asked Sir Hugh, 
 rousing himself to reply, though unable to 
 
256 THE OLD 
 
 trace the thread of his brother's observation. 
 " Apropos to your thoughts," answered 
 Guy, who was very tenacious on the subject 
 of his Parsonage, " so let me have them out at 
 once. I know my mother has prejudiced you — 
 of course she has, for she fancied no place in 
 wide England w^as so dismal as this ; but she 
 came in early winter — hard frost — everything 
 against her — now you are here in summer. I 
 don't see why you should quarrel with the 
 view, whilst there is such hunting, shooting, 
 fishing — " 
 
 " Gently — softly — quietly, good Guy !" 
 laughed Sir Hugh, " I am quarrelling with no- 
 thing — my very thoughts were not even 
 rebelling against your hospitable roof, and its 
 vicinity — they were far away, Guy," added 
 Sir Hugh, passing his hand over his forehead ; 
 " even then they were with Mabel !" and his 
 voice sank almost despondingly. 
 
 ** Mabel 1 oh she puts me out of patience !" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 257 
 
 said Guy hastily — "if you once begin touching 
 upon that subject, there is no end to it." 
 
 " And I was also thinking of Anne," mut- 
 tered Sir Hugh dreamily. 
 
 '' Ah ! about Anne I never trouble my head," 
 said Guy, as he busily proceeded with his fly 
 manufacture — " she is one of your peaceable 
 people, with whom all things go smooth — 
 now Mab gives my mother a great deal of 
 uneasiness — not so Anne — she is sure to do 
 well in the world. Why, she was only here 
 three months, Hugh, and she might have made 
 the best match in the county ! Eardley Spence, 
 one of the — " 
 
 " She refused him, did she ?" interrupted 
 Sir Hugh abruptly. 
 " Yes, point blank !" 
 " And wherefore ?" 
 
 '' Gan't say — didn't like him, I suppose — 
 excellent fellow all the same — but I remember 
 saying at the time to Harry Fortescue — " 
 
258 THE OLD 
 
 " What ?" again interrupted Sir Hugh, 
 " was Fortescue staying here at that mo- 
 ment?" 
 
 " YeSj and I remember saying to him, that 
 had it been Mab, who refused the squire, in- 
 stead of Anne, we should have had the house 
 out of windows, with my mother's indignation ; 
 but it all passed off as quietly, as though it 
 were nothing to reject the owner of twelve 
 thousand a-year." 
 
 Sir Hugh's countenance changed during this 
 speech, and rising from his chair, he began to 
 pace the room in silence ; till at last he stopped, 
 and hesitatingly asked his brother if he thought 
 Anne could have had any other reason, than 
 the one given by Guy, for rejecting the Squire 
 Eardley Spence. 
 
 " Who knows ?" answered Guy — " there 
 is no accountinoj for the whims of g^irls." 
 
 " Nay !" said Sir Hugh, '' Anne appears to 
 me, to be less subject to whims, than any living 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 259 
 
 creature on the face of the earth; but seri- 
 ously, Guy, and in confidence, did it never 
 strike you, that Fortescue himself might have 
 had some influence in the decision ?" 
 
 For a moment Guy opened his eyes widely, 
 and then an idea seemed to dawn upon him ; 
 he answered presently — 
 
 *' Now you mention it, Hugh, I do remem- 
 ber thinking so myself at the time." - 
 *' And never since ?" 
 
 '' I have never seen them together since, 
 at least if I have I forget all about it." 
 
 " Then there were symptoms of an attach- 
 ment, when they were under your roof in 
 November and December last, Guy ?" pursued 
 Sir Hugh, gradually warming. 
 
 " I certainly thought — that is to say, I 
 rather think I had my suspicions," began Guy, 
 infinitely much more engrossed by his occupa- 
 tion, than the subject which seemed to excite 
 his brother so greatly. 
 
260 THE OLD 
 
 i( 
 
 Eight months ago," said Sir Hugh, try- 
 ing to speak cahnly, " you had your suspicions; 
 and yet, my good brother, you are none of the 
 most clear sighted — the attachment may have 
 been apparent to others, long before that — 
 how long did you say Fortescue had been in 
 England ?" 
 
 " If you put me upon my oath," replied 
 Guy, whose mouth was full of wires and fea- 
 thers, *' you must wait till I have finished 
 this fly, for it is no easy one, I assure you. 
 Fish in this part of the world, are no Thames' 
 gudgeons — they will not bite at anything that 
 does not look very natural." 
 
 " Be serious for once," said his brother 
 angrily, *' and on such a momentous subject, 
 give me your entire attention, if but for a few 
 seconds — " how long I ask you, has this been 
 going on ? — remember our sisters have no 
 father — if we are to be passive, when their 
 happiness is at stake, to whom can they 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 261 
 
 look ? who is to watch, protect, guide — " 
 *' Now mark my words. Hugh !" cried Guy 
 impetuously — '' no good will come, of your 
 meddling with our sisters' affairs. I 
 very soon saw that, in a late instance, and 
 backed out of having anything to do with 
 Mab's !" 
 
 " But come good or ill, I insist on med- 
 dling, as you term it !" exclaimed Sir Hugh, 
 thoroughly roused," and once more I ask you 
 how long has this been going on ?" — oath 
 or no oath, give me an answer ! You 
 have been on the spot, and you can reply 
 if you choose — how long has this been going 
 on?" 
 
 " How long has what ?" retorted Guy, 
 reddening with anger at his brother's vehement 
 interruptions. '' Whatthe deuce are you storm- 
 ing at?" 
 
 *' This attachment — this acquaintance — or 
 whatever you please to call it ?" 
 
262 THE OLD 
 
 " Then I do not know I tell you I there ! 
 are you satisfied now ?" 
 
 '* No, I am not, because you must know ; 
 you have twice been his host at Abbeylans, 
 to my certain knowledge — once he has been 
 your guest here — beware, Guy, that 1 ask 
 him not the question myself, at the point of 
 my sword !— beware lest I accuse him in no 
 measured terms!" 
 
 '' Pshaw !" interrupted Guy, '' you are too 
 hot, my good brother — you do not know 
 Fortescue, and you have just fed on your own 
 thoughts and suspicions, till they have got 
 into your head. Leave him alone ; I would 
 stake my honour, he never gave Anne any 
 reason to suppose, he meant to ask her hand ; 
 unless indeed," he added, suddenly changing 
 his manner, '' he has done so since I saw them 
 together, or perhaps Anne has admitted you 
 into her confidence?" 
 
 '' No !" said Sir Hugh, " the aifairs of the 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 263 
 
 Dower House fill me with pain and uneasi- 
 ness. I consider the routine of my mother's 
 establishment, one finished piece of acting, and 
 even I am not allowed to see behind the 
 scenes ! My mother is changed since I left 
 England — she is colder, harsher, sterner ! Mabel 
 is changed — she is undisguisedly wretched ! 
 Anne is changed, for she has moments of de- 
 pression, for which I am almost at a loss to 
 account ; this last change, I had hoped you 
 would have been able to explain, but you do 
 not. Some days ago, Fortescue rode over from 
 Castle Evelyn, and I encountered him and 
 Anne in the wood, by St. Evelyn's well; 
 they did not see me, for I was on foot, and 
 they spurring through the brushwood on horse- 
 back. She looked wildly happy — all the 
 evening of that day she was the same — what 
 caused this ? — not, I fervently trust, a vain, 
 blind, unrequited attachment ? And yet you 
 tell me — " 
 
264 THE OLD 
 
 " I tell you, I believe you to be mistaken," 
 persisted Guy, " for you do not know Anne 
 as well as 1 do. She is bowed down at home 
 by my mother's severity, and Mab's misery ; 
 and yet, the restraint once off her spirits, 
 they rise to all their natural height; if you 
 doubt my words, and all my assertions, 
 that there is nothing like an attachment be- 
 ween Anne and Fortescue, go to Castle 
 Evelyn — only remember that I say this in 
 strict confidence — go to Castle Evelyn, and 
 you will see, that if Fortescue has a preference, 
 it is there ! — it is as clear as daylight to any 
 one, who has not filled their head, with their 
 own ideas, to the utter extinction of all com- 
 mon sense— begging your pardon at the same 
 time, Sir Hugh Sibley ! — but afs our Anne 
 and Lady Anne Evelyn are bosom friends, 
 I should think your way was pretty clear, 
 if your curiosity, after your visit be still un- 
 satisfied." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 265 
 
 *' Even if it were so, or twenty thousand 
 times increased," answered Sir Hugh, with a 
 cheek which had suddenly blanched, and a lip 
 which shook in spite of himself, " I would not 
 tempt Anne to betray a confidence, even sup- 
 posing I thought her capable of so mean, so 
 unjustifiable an act of treachery." 
 
 Sir Hugh had turned pale —every drop of 
 blood seemed to have left the warm, sunny 
 cheek and brow, and as he turned away he 
 tried in vain to stifle a deep and bitter sigh. 
 The unconscious words of his brother had 
 plunged a dagger into his breast, and the first 
 hopes of his high, young heart, fell from the 
 eminence to which he had raised them, and 
 seemed crushed by the fall. 
 
 Till that moment he hardly knew that Lady 
 Anne Evelyn had succeeded in enslaving his 
 affections, for, deluded by a manner on her part 
 which he had construed into a preference, he 
 had never thought of questioning his feelings 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE OLD 
 
 as to whether they could bear a rival —and 
 now that a rival was thrust before his very 
 eyes — and such a rival — a man in every way 
 beneath him — a man upon whom he looked, in 
 spite of all remonstrance, with suspicion and 
 distrust— whom he thought weak, vain, empty, 
 and unworthy — Sir Hugh Sibley, with his 
 upright, honest nature, and straight forward 
 plans of proceeding, in the towering pride 
 which he inherited, even felt himself degraded 
 by entering the lists with one whom he re- 
 garded with severity, dislike, and almost con- 
 tempt. 
 
 '* And yet I will go," were his inward words 
 as lie mused by himself, and recollected that 
 he had been invited to Castle Evelyn on his 
 way to Buckleigh. 
 
 '* Yes, I will go — if only to learn a lesson 
 of earth's vanity, and woman's falsity! — fair 
 Lady Anne, I am still free of your toils, so I 
 will even judge you coolly and dispassionately 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 267 
 
 before I leave the field and say farewell 
 for ever !— well a day ! if she love that shallow 
 heart, she merits not the earnest love that mine 
 could give, and so, farewell !" 
 
 N 3 
 
268 
 
 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Ah ! that deceit should steal such gentle shapes ! 
 
 Oh, for a falconer's voice 
 To lure this tassel — gentle back again ! 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 It was with a strange mixture of feelings of 
 doubt, hope, and bewilderment that Sir Hugh 
 Sibley retired to his room, the first night of 
 his visit to Castle Evelyn ; — the circumstances 
 were these. 
 
 He had abridged his visit to Guy to spare 
 a fortnight for his scrutiny of Lady Anne's 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 269 
 
 character and sentiments — he had arrived at 
 her princely home early in the day, and as he 
 rode up the avenue he had met the Ladies 
 Evelyn, and a long cavalcade of equestrians, 
 just leaving the grounds. 
 
 His first glance had been at Lady Anne, 
 and the brightest blush covered her face as she 
 smilingly recognised him — by her side rode 
 Henry Fortescue, and they were in advance of 
 the rest of the party. 
 
 It bewildered Sir Hugh to decide whether 
 the blush was occasioned by meeting him, or 
 at being met so far in advance of her friends in 
 company with Mr. Fortescue. Albeit the 
 smile was certainly for him, and he would have 
 turned and accompanied her on her ride, had 
 not his hot and tired horse, been an unfit ad- 
 dition to the gallantly mounted, and gay 
 train. 
 
 They did not meet again until the second 
 bell rang for dinner, and then he encountered 
 
270 THE OLD 
 
 Lady Anne in the conservatory which led into 
 one of the drawing-rooms. 
 
 '* I am stealing the red geraniums," were 
 the words which arrested his footsteps, " and 
 hunting in vain, I fear, for one Cape jessamine 
 — who will find one first, Sir Hugh Sibley ?" 
 
 " Here is the plant without a single flower," 
 said Sir Hugh with some alacrity — " but a 
 white rose will have the same effect — suffer me 
 to present this bud to you." 
 
 '' Suffer me then in return," laughed Lady 
 Anne, without taking it from his hand, " to 
 request you to accept and wear it yourself — 
 there are more Cape jessamines than one in the 
 conservatory. Surely I see a flower behind 
 that dark leaf?" 
 
 Sir Hugh found it, offered it, and then pre- 
 sented his hand to lead his graceful young 
 hostess to the drawing-room. 
 
 It was his office to hand Lady Mildred to 
 the table that day, and again he was bewildered 
 by Lady Anne's manner. The pointed way in 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 271 
 
 which she had requested him to wear the rose 
 intended for herself, had re-assured him for a 
 few moments, and now his heart sunk again, for 
 she was seated by Henry Fortescue, and carry- 
 ing on a low, whispering conversation which 
 brought Guy's words clearly and very painfully 
 to his recollection. 
 
 It was well for Sir Hugh Sibley that he did 
 not over hear that conversation, brief as the 
 sentences were. 
 
 " Something has evidently occurred to 
 annoy you," was Lady Anne's address ; and 
 Henry Fortescue's murmured reply was, 
 
 " In that case, how happy would your lady 
 ship be, who thought me proof,^'' 
 
 " Happy ! Oh, Henry, how unjust !" 
 
 " Would that you could convince me of my 
 injustice,'' said Fortescue. 
 
 "I could!" replied Lady Anne quickly, as 
 she turned her clear, bright eyes upon him — " I 
 am certain that I could ! — only tell me the 
 cause of your annoyance." 
 
272 THE OLD 
 
 " For you to triumph in your power I — Nay, 
 Lady Anne, I may be wretched — miserable — " 
 
 ^* What? is it any thing I have done?" she 
 asked in much surprise. 
 
 " Question me not — the cause would but 
 lower me in your eyes — let me take the conse- 
 quence of my folly and weakness — let me suf- 
 fer for the meanness of being an exceedingly 
 jealous character." 
 
 " Jealous !" whispered Lady Anne, with 
 that peculiar smile which curls a woman's lip at 
 the imputation of having made a lover jealous 
 — a smile trembling between gratified vanity 
 and a consciousness that a moment of renewed 
 affection and confidence would reward the suf- 
 ferer twenty fold, " Jealous, my liege !" and 
 she glanced at Sir Hugh, and back to Henry 
 Fortescue with a look more expressive than a 
 volume of words, *' what ? Of the arrival ? Of 
 my asking him to ride ?" 
 
 '' No." 
 
 " Of the many looks directed this way ?" 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 273 
 
 « No." 
 
 " In the name of goodness then, of what ?" 
 
 •' Look once again; I passed through the 
 conservatory this evening, fair Lady Anne, and 
 though I heard not, I saw !*' 
 
 " Ha!" said Lady Anne. 
 
 ^' Yes, and now triumph over your abject 
 slave ! and yet triumph not — I may be jealous 
 once, but as it is the first, so will it be the last 
 time !" 
 
 " Then on my honour!" cried Lady Anne, 
 ** 1 gave it not ! He plucked that rose himself." 
 
 When Fortescue's eyes met those of the fair 
 lady as she hastily uttered these words, it was 
 well that Sir Hugh's were turned another 
 way. Her own sank beneath that glance, and 
 her proud heart, though it bent, swelled also 
 with a sudden feeling of mortification, at 
 having been drawn into the humiliation of 
 clearing herself of so insignificant a charge. 
 It was this feeling that prompted her to 
 devote her whole attention for the rest of 
 N 5 
 
274 THE OLD 
 
 tlie evening to Sir Hugh Sibley, and this 
 was the course of proceeding which had sent 
 the young heir of Abbeylans, bewildered 
 to his chaniber, and filled the breast of 
 Henry Fortescue with malicious triumph and 
 rejoicing. 
 
 '' Now I breathe freely !" exclaimed Lady 
 Anne when the door of their bedroom had 
 closed on the sisters, " Yes, till now I have 
 been acting a hard and difficult part, but I 
 won Mildred." 
 
 '' You won \vhat?" asked her sister con- 
 temptuously, ^' what did you win beside the 
 inward scorn of Henry Fortescue, and the bad 
 opinion of that good and noble Sir Hugh 
 Sibley?" 
 
 ^* I won my game, and won my ' tassel 
 gentle' round again, w^hen he was just flapping 
 his wings for a flight," said Lady Anne color- 
 ing, '' both of which conquests 1 consider 
 superior to the winning or losing of your good 
 and noble Sir Hugh Sibley's opinion." 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 275 
 
 " Alas for you, Anne !" sighed the Lady 
 Mildred, " you must go your own way, but 
 you have launched your bark on a treacherous 
 sea, and I have warned you of it." 
 
 " Warned me too late," answered Lady 
 Anne petulantly, as she loosed the long braids 
 of her beautiful hair, and shook it angrily over 
 her shoulders, *' and warned me v/here there is 
 no need of warning ; I would trust Harry 
 Fortescue with my very soul !" 
 
 " Shame on you, Anne !" retorted her sister, 
 '* shame on you, with your rank, and station, 
 and prospects, to stoop to one so utterly un- 
 worthy ! To let him see moreover the thraldom 
 in which he holds you I" 
 
 '' How I" exclaimed Anne, colouring again 
 indignantly, " how mean you, Mildred ?" 
 
 '' To-day at dinner," answered Mildred 
 pointedly. Lady Anne was silent — for a few 
 minutes she sat buried in thought, and then, 
 covering her face with her hands, the tears were 
 seen slowly trickling through her fingers. 
 
276 THE OLD 
 
 " Oh, my sister !" burst from Mildred's lips, 
 " is it indeed come to this I may heaven's 
 vengeance light on that man, if his conduct 
 has wrung from you these tears ! — oh, Anne, 
 be yourself! — rouse your spirit — draw him to 
 your feet, his proper place — crush his false un- 
 worthy heart, my sister, and do not let him 
 have the glory of boasting that he can win, and 
 fling away at will, the love of Lady Anne 
 Evelyn !" 
 
 " Never !" cried Anne, rising and dashing 
 away her tears, " Heaven spare me such a fate 
 as that ! — no — I am myself again now — it was 
 but a passing weakness; I am myself," she 
 added, though her lip still quivered, and sobs 
 checked her words, " and he shall not try me 
 thus again! To-morrow, Mildred, you shall 
 see — I bring him to his senses, or I leave him 
 to select some tamer love than me ! much have 
 I borne, but if his needless jealousies must 
 wring my feelings thus — when in good truth, 
 he has no right to call my actions to account — 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 277 
 
 then it were better we should part at once than 
 ao on thus. Oh that he would but breathe one 
 word that I might seize, and so report him to 
 my father — but no— he is so wary, Mildred !" 
 
 '* And you would marry such a man as this ?" 
 asked her sister in astonishment. 
 
 " Love I" said Lady Anne trying to. smile ; 
 and she turned away again in tears. 
 
278 THE OLD 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Oh folly of a loving heart that clings 
 
 With desperate faith, to which each moment bring? 
 
 Quick and faint gleams an instant's thought must smother ; 
 
 And yet finds mocking scope 
 
 For some unreal hope, 
 
 Which would appear despair to any other. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 The next clay Lady Anne valiantly pursued 
 her plan — the day after, and the day succeeding 
 that again, her looks, and words, and smiles, 
 were all for vSir Hugh Sibley, but he whom 
 these wiles were intended to pique, took not 
 the slightest heed I At last, however, a lurk- 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 279 
 
 ing SQiile was visible at the corner of his lip, 
 and goaded on by this, Lady Anne recklessly 
 drew Sir Hugh to the very verge of an offer 
 of his hand. 
 
 A party of pleasure had been arranged for 
 a particular day to some neighbouring woods 
 —the morning rose gloriously beautiful ; and 
 equipped in her riding habit, and fixing a 
 drooping feather according to the fashion of 
 the times, in the small beaver hat she wore, 
 stood Lady Anne, by the fountain in the centre 
 of the conservatory. 
 
 Her lips were parted, and her cheeks were 
 Hushed to the deepest crimson — her breath was 
 drawn in quick, short gasps, and her small 
 fingers trembled beyond control. She knew 
 that she was on the brink of a precipice— 
 that day was to finish the game — and the stake 
 was no other than her future fate. 
 
 Yet slie had a dauntless spirit, a strange con- 
 trast to the feminine appearance of her person 
 — and despite the tremor of her outward 
 
280 THE OLD 
 
 bearing, she was nerved to the point, and 
 quite ready for the attack, wounded, stung, 
 and piqued into her conduct by the com- 
 placent and sarcastic conduct of Henry For- 
 tescue. 
 
 As there she stood a step sounded on the 
 marble pavement, and some one stopped 
 silently at her side. She thought it must be 
 Sir Hugh, and turning with a smile, her eyes 
 rested on the pale, haggard features of Henry 
 Fortescue, who had been absent from the 
 breakfast table on the plea of a violent head- 
 ache. 
 
 She disguised her start by a few words of 
 civil greeting, and hoped he was ready to join 
 the riding party, as they were all on the point 
 of starting. 
 
 " I am not going with you," was his answer; 
 and the heart of Lady Anne softened as she 
 heard his altered voice, and marked the change 
 in his demeanour. 
 
 " I trust— I do trust — " she began in a 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 281 
 
 tone of trembling anxiety- — *' that it is not 
 illness. Oh, Harry, speak — are you really 
 ill ?" 
 
 *' Thank you I am better — well — " said he 
 hurriedly, but I took this opportunity, seeing 
 that you were alone, to— to — " 
 
 She looked enquiringly at him, and the colour 
 spread over her throat and brow. 
 
 " To tell you," he continued clearing his 
 voice, *' that I fear — I fear I must say adieu to 
 you — I have already so far outstaid the earl's 
 first invitation, that 1 am really ashamed — 
 I mean — " 
 
 Lady Anne could have grasped the marble 
 basin by which she stood, so povverlessly faint 
 did she feel herself growing, but those deep 
 impressive eyes were sealed upon her face, 
 and she summoned all her strenth to arti- 
 culate. 
 
 '^ Of course, if you are tired of us." 
 
 " Tired ?" cried Fortescue, with sudden 
 
282 THE OLD 
 
 vehemence. " Anne ! is that a— a fair re- 
 proach ?" 
 
 *' Nay, your conduct — " stammered Lady 
 Anne. 
 
 " Has been influenced by yours," was the 
 whisper at her ear. She turned away her 
 head, and her lip quivered; she could not 
 speak — at that moment Anne Evelyn felt un- 
 alterably wretched, and pride was giving way 
 rapidly. 
 
 ^' But your decision is sudden," she at last 
 found words to say. 
 
 " No, Lady Anne, I have tried for some 
 time to tear myself away. I felt every day 
 more and more, that for my own happiness, I 
 was straying too long, but I went on blindly, 
 like the moth and the candle," he added, 
 with a faint smile — *' and now, when I find 
 that I have stayed too long- -too long in- 
 deed, I—" 
 
 He paused, and the heart of Lady Anne 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 283 
 
 beat till it almost checked her utterance — 
 she was trembling from head to foot, in ex- 
 pectation of the final words, yet he spoke 
 them not ! 
 
 Oh woman ! weak in the hour of trial like 
 this — where was the proud blood of all the 
 Evelyns, that Lady Anne could brook such, 
 tyranny from love ! Had it turned to water, 
 that those bright eyes were swimming with hot 
 tears ? Where was her haughty temper now ? 
 Bent before one who, for every wound she 
 had given his vanity, but doubly wrung her 
 heart. 
 
 " Tears ?" was the next insidious whisper, 
 ^' tears, sweet Anne ? speak but one word — 
 give me but one look — nay, Anne, this is 
 cruel ! — more tears ? One word to bid me 
 stay — one glance to teach me that you are 
 not weary." 
 
 " Nay," exclaimed the young girl, snatching 
 her hand from his grasp, as steps and voices 
 
284 THE OLD 
 
 sounded in the drawing-room, '* if your own 
 heart teach you nought, be sure the lesson shall 
 not come from me !" and with these words she 
 darted away. 
 
 When the horses came to the door, Sir 
 Hugh Sibley assisted Lady Anne to vault into 
 her saddle. Henry Fortescue was no where 
 to be seen. 
 
 It was seven miles to the place of rendezvous^ 
 and the road wound through woods and lawns ; 
 Sir Hugh thought it a fair and fitting oppor- 
 tunity — he bent till his head nearly rested 
 on the proudly arched neck of his charger, 
 and he sought the averted eyes of Lady 
 Anne, with a look of earnest devotion — 
 and in a deep, low voice, he at length 
 spoke — 
 
 *' Lady Anne, my time is short, and words 
 come slowly when the heart is full; yet I 
 cannot stay in this most trying fever of sus- 
 pense. I crave your pardon, if my words 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 285 
 
 are too abrupt and blunt, but from your 
 hands I ask my destiny — one little word from 
 you will make or mar my happiness — speak 
 to me, dear Lady Anne, and let the word 
 be — yes ! — or, if it please you better, refer me 
 to the Earl." 
 
 This was the moment — the crisis — and this 
 was also the moment of remorse — Lady Anne 
 felt that she was in the presence of a nobler 
 spirit than her own, and that she had done 
 him wrong. The confusion of her feelings 
 was great, the punishment of her reckless con- 
 duct, had even now overtaken her — how could 
 she answer this manly appeal — how could 
 she frame the sentence that would convey 
 such pain to the noble being by her side — 
 the man who, by her wanton disregard to the 
 feelings of another, had been wiled into the 
 snare, which was to destroy the hopes of 
 happiness formed with such guileless con- 
 fidence ? 
 
 Blushes burned upon her cheek — the fever- 
 
286 THE CLD 
 
 ish blushes of shame and self-reproach, and 
 one by one she stammered out the words of 
 her faltering refusal ! 
 
 Sir Hugh was utterly confounded ; he had 
 been led to expect a far different result, and 
 he was naturally enough both wounded and 
 mortified, perhaps also slightly indignant ; but 
 though the words of Lady Anne were falter- 
 ing, her purpose was firm, and when she 
 separated from Sir Hugh that evening, it was 
 for ever as '' lover and ladylove." 
 
 On reaching Castle Evelyn however, another 
 adventure met them. It was in the person 
 of Henry Fortescue, who was proceeding at 
 fullest speed to catch the mail, in answer to 
 an express announcing the very alarming ill- 
 ness of his father. 
 
 "■ Well done, Lady Anne Evelyn !" said 
 Lady Mildred to her sister that night, *^ you 
 have fairly lost them both at last ! but you 
 would do well to keep your council, for of a 
 truth I see not how you dare tell my father, 
 
DOWER HOUSE. 287 
 
 the insult you have flung on that gallant Sir 
 Hugh Sibley—" 
 
 *' Be silent, my sister," murmured Anne, as 
 she folded her arms on the table, and hid her 
 face in them — *' be silent, and crush not the 
 broken reed." 
 
 THE END OF VOL. I. 
 
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