i^ 
 
 /!» 
 
 N- 
 
 'V.S^' 
 
 'i i L 
 
 
 J. ■ .^.m"^ 
 
 wLw 
 

 ^■P 
 
 h 
 
 O 
 
 / 
 
 4 
 
 t 
 
 L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 H782s 
 
THE 
 
 SQUIRE OF BEEOHWOOD. 
 
 A TEFE TALE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ''SCRUTATOR/^ 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HUKST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1857. 
 
J. Billing, Printer, 1C3, Hatton Garden, London, and Guildfoad, Surrey. 
 
^^3 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT, 
 
 &c., &c. 
 
 Deae Loed Duke, 
 
 In availing myself of your kind permission to 
 dedicate the following Tale to your Grace, I must claim 
 the greatest possible indulgence for the many imperfec- 
 tions both of style and composition, with which I am 
 fully aware its pages abound. I have no pretensions to 
 a literary character, and, as your Grace is well aware, 
 would much rather handle the horn than the pen ; but, 
 as the former occupation is now denied me, the latter 
 js adopted in its place, to beguile the tedium vitce, or 
 idle hours, which would otherwise pass heavily away, 
 lacking the exciting employment of my earlier years. 
 Although born and bred a true son of Nimrod, my 
 ideas, hke his, have not been solely occupied with the 
 chase ; but human as well as animal nature has been 
 my study. Leaving for awhile the exhilarating scenes 
 of sporting life, I have now ventured upon a more ha- 
 
IV DEDICATION. 
 
 zardous, though not less interesting theme — the deline- 
 ation of human characters, (such, at least, as have come 
 under my own observation,) which, although wanting 
 the skilful finishing touches of an accomplished artist, 
 are strictly original. Deprecating the criticism of the 
 world, which I have no wish to provoke, and feeling 
 secure of your Grace's kind condonation for its nume- 
 rous faults, I submit this crude, unvarnished tale to 
 your highly esteemed patronage and perusal, in the 
 hope that it may tend to amuse a leisure hour, when 
 your Grace may be relieved from the many duties and 
 avocations which your high position entails upon your 
 time. To your Grace's grandfather and the late la- 
 mented Duke, I have been indebted for many acts of 
 kindness and consideration ; and to yourself, my grate- 
 ful thanks are now due, for lending your friendly 
 assistance in launching me on this novel sphere of 
 action ; and feeling assured that any success which 
 may attend the publication of this Work, must be at- 
 tributed chiefly, if not entirely, to the prestige of your 
 Grace's high name, rather than to any intrinsic merits 
 of its own, ^1 
 
 I have the honour to remain. 
 Dear Lord Duke, 
 
 Most faithfully yours, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
THE SQUIEE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was a beautiful autumnal evening, about 
 the middle of October, in the year 18 — . The 
 last rays of the setting sun were yet lingering 
 on the bronzed leaves of the beech woods, on 
 the opposite hill- side, when two youths might 
 be seen sauntering arm-in-arm down the avenue 
 leading from the old Manor House of Willsbury 
 to the outskirts of the village. — The evening 
 was delightfully calm, and all nature quietly 
 sinking into repose. The birds were still among 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 the trees, save the shrill notes of the robin, 
 which, hopping to and fro on the gravel walk, 
 seemed anxious to invite the attention of the 
 passer-by. — A gentle ripple played over the 
 lake, whose slightly excited waves broke at 
 intervals, in dull and sullen sound upon its 
 banks. The chop of some large trout might be 
 distinctly heard, as he rose to the surface of 
 the water, to seize his winged prey ; and the 
 tinkle of the sheep-bell on the distant hill, 
 served alone to break the stillness that reigned 
 around. 
 
 It was the season of the year betokening 
 the gradual decay of vegetable nature, too 
 clearly exhibited in the changed and still chang- 
 ing hues of the foliage of the trees, which was 
 gently and almost imperceptibly stealing their 
 beauties away, like the gradual decline of man- 
 hood's prime, sinking by slow degrees into 
 withered old age. 
 
 From the beautiful works of the vegetable 
 world, let us now turn to that still more beau- 
 tiful and mysterious creation — Man — that mas- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 3 
 
 terpiece of our Almighty Creator. — "For in 
 the image of God created he man." — Before us 
 are seen two children of our fallen race ; like 
 their first parents in the garden of Eden, as yet 
 walking in innocency and peace ; their young 
 hearts as yet untutored in the knowledge of 
 crime, — as yet untried in the furnace of temp- 
 tation, from which so little real gold comes 
 forth. The elder of these youths had just 
 entered his nineteenth year, the other might be 
 about two years his junior. 
 
 Robert and Henry Howard were the sons of 
 gentlemen of old family, and large landed 
 property, in the West of England, and, at the 
 time I have just introduced them to ray 
 readers, residing in the village of Willsbury, 
 in one of the Midland counties, with a 
 clergyman, to finish their education for the uni- 
 versity. 
 
 Their tutor, who was also the pastor of the 
 village, was one of the old orthodox school, and 
 a man of the most upright and honourable ideas. 
 He was not only deeply versed in classical, as well 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 as mathematical lore, but well read in modem 
 literature. His natural talents were also displayed 
 in various mechanical arts, excelling in every- 
 thing he undertook. He was a capital shot, 
 when a few leisure hours were allowed him for 
 recreation in the field, and a most expert and 
 finished angler ; his flies so beautifully and na- 
 turally finished oif, that the finny race were 
 deceived by their attractive appearance ; and 
 when other fly books failed, his could generally 
 produce some fairy specimen, which would 
 lure even the most cautious old trout to the 
 surface of the stream, from which he soon found 
 himself most unceremoniously transferred to the 
 grassy bank. Mr. Meredith possessed a kind 
 and cheerful disposition, and his eye (the 
 index of his mind), when in society, sparkled 
 with the joyous, witty, and benevolent thoughts 
 which chased each other in rapid succession 
 through a heart open always to the allurements 
 of refined society, but never closed to the appeal 
 of the poor and distressed. In school hours, 
 however, he was strict, although communicative ; 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 5 
 
 ever ready to give explanations, or assist in un- 
 ravelling abstruse and difficult passages, and 
 anxious to elicit his pupil's ideas. 
 
 With him religion formed an integral part 
 of education ; in fact, it was considered by him 
 the key-stone of the building. He knew full 
 well, that that was the only armour which could 
 secure his pupils against the fierce attacks of pas- 
 sion, or the subtle and more insidious advances 
 of temptation, assuming such varied attitudes of 
 assault. 
 
 Morality is as a thin gauze-hke upper vesture, 
 calculated only for fine weather ; but the gar- 
 ment which is to resist the pelting of the pitiless 
 storm of this world's raising, must be composed 
 of more firm and compact materials. Religion, 
 the Religion of the Gospel, is the only safe- 
 guard in times of trial, adversity, or suffering ; 
 it is the sheet-anchor to the soul, sure and sted- 
 fast, upon which alone the vessel can hold on, 
 and ride through the gale when tossed by the 
 rough tempest, or threatening waves of this 
 boisterous sea of life ! In all education, religion 
 
b THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 should form the ground- work ; it will last, when 
 all else gives way and crumbles into ruins. 
 
 This worthy tutor taught his pupils self- 
 government and self-respect. He pointed out 
 to them, that as thev would soon be removed 
 from under his care, to the little world of the 
 universities, it was his duty to prepare them for 
 this change of life. He therefore gave them 
 free permission to go where they liked during 
 their hours of recreation, and to visit and accept 
 invitations from any of the gentlemen's families 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " Remember," he would say, " you are gen- 
 tlemen, the sons of gentlemen, as well as my 
 pupils, take care you bring no discredit on your 
 parents or your tutor." 
 
 Treating them with confidence like this, it 
 will not be surprising that his pupils regarded 
 him as a friend ; and in this light it was his 
 pride to be considered. 
 
 Robert and Henry Howard had been paying 
 a visit to the family at the Old Manor House* 
 having been commissioned to convey an invi- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 7 
 
 tation to their tutor, for a dinner party, which 
 was to take place in a few days. 
 
 Before introducing to my readers the inmates 
 of this old mansion, it may be as well to give a 
 description of these two youths, now first pre- 
 sented to their notice. In bodily form, they ap- 
 peared to have been cast nearly in the same mould, 
 being both of slight though well-proportioned 
 figures, displaying in their small hands and feet 
 the characteristic of high breeding. The fea- 
 tures of Robert were singularly handsome ; his 
 eyes dark and brilliant, his mouth small, with a 
 short upper lip compressed over a set of white 
 pearly teeth ; his dark brown hair (almost black) 
 waved in glossy curls around his high and open 
 forehead ; a nose inclined to aquiline, but in 
 perfect conformity with his other features, and a 
 smile of inexpressible sweetness animating his 
 whole expressive countenance, presented to 
 the observer a face almost, if not quite, fault- 
 less. 
 
 Henry was rather more robust in frame, and 
 taller than his cousin. There was nothing 
 
8 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 either very peciiliar or attractive in his features, 
 which, though regular, were not handsome ; 
 there was also a look of melancholy thoughtful- 
 ness about him, save that from his dark hazel 
 eyes there beamed an expression of kindness 
 and benevolence. In character the two cousins 
 were widely dissimilar. 
 
 Robert was all life, gaiety, and levity, and 
 his heart unsusceptible of deep impressions ; of 
 excitable and hasty temper when things went 
 contrary to his wishes or expectations, but soon 
 relapsing again into his usual happy mood. 
 Fickle and fanciful in his attachments, which 
 were never with him of a deep or lasting nature, 
 he resembled a butterfly continually sipping and 
 flitting from flower to flower. 
 
 The feelings of Henry were strong, though 
 subdued ; yet his heart ever beat with every kind 
 and generous impulse. His voice seldom gave 
 utterance to the emotions passing within his 
 breast, until called forth by some sudden emer- 
 gency ; it was then that his countenance was lit up 
 with brilliant radiance, and his words and actions 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 9 
 
 betokened the lofty bearings of a noble and 
 high-spirited mind. He was firm and con- 
 stant in his attachments ; quick to forgive, 
 and slow to resent injuries. 
 
 Such is an outline of the two youths who are 
 sauntering down the avenue of the Old Manor 
 House, and who will, in the following pages, 
 speak for themselves. 
 
 We will now take a glance at the old Manor 
 House itself, describe its outward and inward 
 appearance, and see who and what was passing 
 within its walls. The mansion was built in the 
 Elizabethan style of architecture, of the only ma- 
 terials to be had in the neighbourhood, red bricks 
 and flints ; the original glare and colour of the 
 former had been mellowed down by the hand 
 of time, and now presented a dark and gloomy 
 appearance in the outward walls. The entrance- 
 hall was approached by a flight of steps ; the 
 hall itself being of large dimensions, with a 
 good billiard-table standing in the centre, and 
 from its old oak pannelled walls hung sus- 
 pended the family portraits of many generations 
 
Igpt THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 past. On the left-hand side of the entrance was 
 a well-proportioned dining-room ; on the right 
 the library, containing a choice selection of books, 
 many of them valuable from their great anti- 
 quity, as well as a large collection of modern 
 authors. From the hall again, two folding doors 
 gave entrance into a large and lofty saloon, fitted 
 up with all the splendour and luxuries of past 
 and modern inventions. From this you were 
 introduced to the drawing-room, where I shall 
 now in turn beg to introduce the members of 
 the family to my readers. 
 
 Lord Barnard was of a very old family, who 
 could date their pedigree from the Norman con- 
 quest. He had married early in life a lady of 
 great beauty, as well as of high attainments, 
 and had been blessed with a family of six 
 children, but only one male heir to the 
 family estates, who had entered the army, and 
 was, when this tale commences, with his regi- 
 ment. 
 
 Lord Barnard had just passed the meridian 
 of life. His high and prominent forehead gave 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. Ht 
 
 evidence of deep intellectual faculties, which had 
 been eminently conspicuous in a long parlia- 
 mentary career. Tall and erect in stature, his 
 movements were characterized by a dignified 
 and graceful deportment, with the easy and 
 polished manners of high breeding. Although 
 rather extreme in politics, he was in social life a 
 staunch friend, a constant and devoted husband, 
 and a fond and affectionate father. Lady Bar- 
 nard was — but how shall I describe her ? No 
 stroke of pen or pencil of mine can convey ^more 
 than a faint outline of the bright and spotless 
 original. She had now arrived at the prime of 
 life, yet still retained the figure of youth, ' Her 
 dark, lustrous eyes still sparkled with their usual 
 brilliancy, and her soft, angelic countenance was 
 yet unfurrowed by the hand of time. Her 
 featfe-es bore the impress of a disposition and 
 temper all gentleness and love, and there was 
 something irresistibly attractive in the beautiful 
 smile, which was ever ready to greet both friends 
 and strangers. 
 
 To such a mother it were needless to sav, her 
 
12 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 children were most fervently attached. The 
 two eldest daughters had now reached the age 
 of womanhood, and the third was just entering 
 her seventeenth year. Of the former, the eldest, 
 though smaller in figure, resembled her mother 
 in her dark eyes, and soft, expressive features. 
 Gentle in manners and amiable »in disposition, 
 she possessed a heart ever beating with generous 
 and benevolent feelings, unaffected by the cold 
 and selfish manners of the world. The second, 
 in features closely resembled her father, with a 
 tall and good figure. She possessed also a 
 great share of his abilities, was mistress of 
 several languages, played and sang well, and 
 although not strikingly handsome, was alto- 
 gether most pleasing and attractive. Julia, the 
 third, who had just emerged from the school- 
 room, was in form and features one of the most 
 beautiful girls ever beheld. She was rather 
 above the general standard of women, but of 
 exquisite symmetry ; her features were of the 
 Grecian cast, with dark, lustrous eyes, and lux- 
 uriant tresses of the raven hue. Her com- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 13 
 
 plexion was of the brunette tint, with a rich 
 colour mantling in her cheek. In manners and 
 mien, graceful and fascinating ; in disposition, 
 cheerful, gay, and warm-hearted. Such was 
 JuHa Bernard. 
 
14 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 In all his appointments, Lord Bernard was 
 punctuality itself. Six o'clock was in those 
 times the general dinner hour, and to the 
 minute almost as the clock struck, and the 
 last bell proclaiming the hour ceased ringing, 
 the portly form of Mr. Smith, the butler, was 
 seen at the drawing-room door, announcing that 
 all was ready. It was an established rule of the 
 house, that those who were present should im- 
 mediately proceed to the dining-room, no con- 
 sideration being given to late arrivals ; and this 
 being thoroughly understood in the neighbour- 
 hood, all the guests were generally assembled in 
 the drawing-room by half-past five. A want of 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 15 
 
 punctuality being attended with the certain loss 
 of fish and soup, induced all who esteemed a 
 good dinner to arrive in good time. 
 
 Robert and Henry Howard, with their re- 
 spected tutor, were honoured with invitations 
 on this occasion, to them a great one, about 
 thirty guests being expected. Among the com- 
 pany staying in the house, several were distin- 
 guished for great abilities as public men. Of 
 these, Lord Erskine and the eccentric Dr. Crow 
 (the Public Orator at the University of Oxford) 
 were the most conspicuous. The latter had 
 walked (his usual mode of travelling) thirty 
 miles the preceding day, to be present at this 
 gathering, which was to conclude with a tenant's 
 ball in the evening. The Doctor's researches 
 were not confined to books and literature only, 
 but extended to the hidden things of the earth, 
 geology, mineralogy, and conchology; and to assist 
 him in these explorations, he always carried in 
 his pocket a small hammer, with the aid of which 
 he could pry into the interior of such stones and 
 pebbles as excited his curiosity, when rambling 
 
16 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 through the country ; and with such specimens 
 his capacious pockets were usually filled. At 
 the dinner-table political topics were generally 
 excluded, as men of all creeds were equally in- 
 vited, without reference to their public opinions ; 
 and, with so good an example as our host, who 
 abounded in anecdotes, wit, and good humour, 
 the usual stiffness of a formal dinner party soon 
 wore off, and hilarity began to circulate as freely 
 as the champagne. 
 
 It was a true saying in the days of Horace, 
 and holds good to the present, and will, I have 
 no doubt, to all future generations of mankind, 
 except perhaps in the Golden Age, when pro- 
 bably all may become teetotallers, — 
 " Aperit vera precordia Bacclius.'* 
 
 The usual topics of the weather and season 
 were discussed, amongst strangers a preliminary 
 introduction to other subjects. 
 
 The Reverend Tutor, who had been placed 
 next to Miss Tancred, a gay and lively girl of 
 eighteen, then staying with the family, was 
 questioned with rather more levity than he 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 17 
 
 thought consistent with his dignity, as to his 
 late sport, with his dog and gun, and catechized 
 upon sporting subjects generally. His short, 
 though polite answers, only determined this 
 mischievous girl to persevere in her attacks. 
 
 " Why, you appear ashamed of your pursuits, 
 Mr. Meredith." 
 
 " Were they really my pursuits, I should be 
 so; but they form with me only occasional 
 recreation. My pursuits and avocations usually 
 lie in a very different direction." 
 
 " Then, you think a clergyman should not be 
 a regular sportsman ?" 
 
 "Most certainly he should not; although I 
 see no harm in his occasionally taking a stroll 
 with his dog and gun, more for exercise, per- 
 haps, than the love of sport." 
 
 "And if there is no perhaps in the case," 
 inquired Miss Tancred, archly, " what then ? 
 He must get a dispensation from his Bishop, I 
 suppose. But, as to angling, I conclude there 
 can be no harm in that; and if we are to 
 believe all a certain old Isaac Walton writes 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
18 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 on the subject, it must be the most innocent 
 of all amusements, and perhaps the fish like 
 to be played with as well. A sharp hook in 
 one's lip must be a very delightful sensation, I 
 should think." 
 
 " My dear young lady, do not be too severe 
 upon us poor lords of the creation. In all things 
 we offend continually ; but let me remind you, 
 which you are not perhaps aware of, (laying an 
 emphasis on the word perhaps,) that the lips 
 of a fish do not in the least resemble the lips of 
 a young lady, either in appearance or sensibility. 
 The hook we insert in a trout's leathern mouth 
 causes him trifling pain, in comparison with the 
 sharp arrows implanted in our soft hearts, by 
 the pouting of those pretty lips." 
 
 " Oh ! very soft indeed you gentlemen all are 
 in your hearts ; but I have an idea that your 
 heads are much softer." 
 
 " Oh, fie ! Miss Tancred." 
 
 " Well, who ever hears of a man breaking his 
 heart, now-a-days ?" 
 
 "Or a young lady either," replied Mr. Meredith. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 19 
 
 "They have too much sense. — Well, Mr. 
 
 Meredith, a propos of this evening, we are to 
 
 have a Tenant's Ball. Do you approve of 
 
 dancing ?" 
 
 " Of course I do, in ncioderation, or I should 
 
 scarcely have been present." 
 " You dance then, I conclude." 
 "Your conclusion is premature. I do not 
 
 dance myself, although I derive pleasure from 
 
 seeing young people enjoy themselves." 
 " Well, will you dance with me to-night ?" 
 " And make myself a butt for you to laugh 
 
 at ? No, I must decline, although I admit the 
 
 temptation is a great one." 
 " Well, only one quadrille ?" 
 " Nay, my fair Eve, it must not be." 
 " Only one turn then, in a waltz." 
 " Horror of horrors ! it would drive me crazy. 
 
 You do not seriously mean to say that you are 
 
 a waltzer ?" 
 
 " WeU, what if I am ?" 
 
 The countenance of the kind-hearted tutor 
 
 underwent a sudden change, and he looked 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 with a melancholy air upon his fair compa- 
 nion. 
 
 " I read your conclusion," she said, " in your 
 eyes. I am fallen in your estimation. Is it 
 not so ?" 
 
 Mr. Meredith was silent. 
 
 " Tell me then, at least," she said, " your ob- 
 jection to waltzing ; that in fairness you are 
 bound to do." 
 
 "They may be only prejudices; but that I 
 entertain strong opinions on the subject, I admit. 
 The waltz is not an English dance, and it is 
 productive of too much familiarity. You and 
 I are not even upon those terms, although we 
 have met before, to allow of the usual mode of 
 greeting among acquaintances, that of shaking 
 hands ; and yet you would permit me, or a perfect 
 stranger, perhaps merely introduced for the occa- 
 sion, to embrace you with his arm and whirl you 
 round and round in the giddy circle, until 1 have 
 seen some young ladies almost fainting in their 
 partner's arms; others with their heads reclin- 
 ing on their shoulders. It is a foreign fashion, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 21 
 
 and to foreigners custom may have rendered it 
 innocuous ; but, our English maidens have ever 
 been characterized by reserve of manners and 
 modesty of deportment, and far, far distant be 
 the day, when they may be taught to think so 
 lightly of their own proper feelings, as to adopt 
 manners and customs so much at variance with 
 them." 
 
 " Bravo ! Mr. John Bull — but you have not 
 converted me, mind — I am no waltzer." 
 
 " Then why ask me to join in such a dance?" 
 
 " Merely to hear your opinions upon it ; — 
 mine have been decided long ago." 
 
 A radiant smile passed over the features of 
 the kind-hearted Mr. Meredith, hke a bright 
 ray of the rising sun bursting through the 
 dark mists of an autumnal morning, and again 
 lit up his expressive countenance. 
 
 Old Dr. Crow had been delving deep below, 
 and had fished up an unfortunate toad, which 
 was found encased in a block of stone many 
 feet below the surface of the earth, in some 
 quarry near Oxford. He had been discussing 
 
22 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 with another learned Theban, or Naturalist, the 
 probabilities of how and when the said toad had 
 obtained admission into its stony chamber ; and 
 after various opinions had been given on both 
 sides, and all kinds of conjectures hazarded upon 
 the subject, the conclusion was finally come to, 
 that the said toad had become imbedded in a 
 calcareous substance of clay and sand, when a 
 tadpole, about the date of the deluge, and that 
 this said tadpole and this said substance had been 
 growing on together ever since, until one had 
 become a toad and the other a block of granite ! 
 
 An aged colonel was rehearsing over again 
 some of his exploits in the Peninsular War, his 
 hair-breadth escapes in battle, and his almost 
 miraculous preservation from a musket-ball on 
 the plains of Waterloo, from the mischievous 
 effects of which a large silver hunting watch 
 had saved him, which the ball had struck, and 
 become there firmly imbedded. 
 
 With various discourse the dinner-hour passed 
 pleasantly and cheerfully, and the dessert had 
 now been placed on the table. At the bottom, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 23 
 
 next to Lord Barnard, sat a Mr. Goodenough, a 
 tall, stout-built man of about fifty. He was 
 neither ^5^ nor fowl; that is, neither exactly 
 a gentleman nor a farmer, but a compound of 
 both. Living in a sequestered part of the 
 country, where the seats of country gentlemen 
 seldom met the view of passing travellers, he 
 had, from his business-like habits and thorough 
 acquaintance with all rural and parochial mat- 
 ters, been raised to a seat on the bench of magis- 
 trates. Although a most useful member of 
 society, he was not calculated to shine in polite 
 circles, and far from being a lady's man (to 
 which, to do him justice, he w^as himself per- 
 fectly aware he had no pretensions), he generally 
 avoided their society. 
 
 With his cheerful and good-humoured host, 
 however, he soon found himself at ease, and he 
 was entertaining him with a long rigmarole story 
 of some eccentric old farmer who lived in his 
 neighbourhood, and was lately deceased. The 
 narration of this story proceeded pari passu^ 
 with the cracking and grinding of a large quan- 
 
24 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 tity of fine filberts with which he had piled up 
 his plate. While this process was going on, his 
 articulation was anything but distinct, his cheeks 
 resembling those of a certain blue- nosed^ tailless 
 baboon, which probably some of my readers 
 may recollect to have seen in the Zoological 
 Gardens, stowing away, with inconceivable dis- 
 patch, apples, cakes, and nuts in his capacious 
 maw, and still looking out for more, much to the 
 surprise of the donors. This mumbling, grum- 
 bUng noise (for conversation it cannot be called), 
 continued as long as the filberts lasted ; when his 
 mouth being cleared out for another demand 
 upon the dish, which had been slyly removed by 
 Robert Howard to a situation in nearer proximity 
 to his own plate (being himself much addicted 
 to the pleasant amusement of nut-cracking also), 
 gave him the opportunity of finishing his story 
 after the following fashion : 
 
 " And so, my lord, you see, as I was telling 
 you about this queer old fish, Farmer Giles, he 
 was about the rummest old Turk I ever met 
 with ; he lived there all by himself in that lonely 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 25 
 
 farm-house, with his old hag of a housekeeper — 
 wouldn't have any of his neveys or nieces to 
 come and see him, for fear of their eating up 
 his grub." 
 
 At this particular part of the story, conversa- 
 tion had by some unaccountable accident (as it 
 will so happen sometimes) come to a dead halt 
 all round the table ; there was, in fact, a mo- 
 mentary silence when these words struck the 
 ears of all assembled, and Robert Howard, ever 
 ready for mischief and fun, began to titter; 
 another followed, and another. Laughing, like 
 yawning, is catching ; Lord Barnard could 
 scarcely resist it, and added, " Capital joke, 
 Goodenough, by Jove !" 
 
 " I can't see it, my lord," replied the perti- 
 nacious and obtuse Goodenough ; " and I'll be 
 bound the old boy didn't see any fun in it, 
 either." 
 
 Roars of laughter now issued from nearly all 
 the male portion of the guests, and the ladies 
 were obliged to apply their handkerchiefs to 
 their mouths. Dr. Crowe and the aged colonel 
 
26 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 alone possessed their gravity, and tried, by their 
 severe looks, to restore order, but without avail. 
 The mischievous Robert was resolved to keep 
 the ball going, and at every pause rekindled the 
 flame by his shrill cachinnations, until Lady Bar- 
 nard, witnessing the distressed state of some of 
 the ladies, made a precipitate retreat from the 
 dining-room. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 After the retreat of the ladies, Goodenough, 
 with half-a-dozen votaries of Bacchus, settled 
 themselves down in close proximity to Lord 
 Barnard, fully intent on dispatching a bottle of 
 claret at least per head at their ease, and to 
 enjoy without interruption the usual amount of 
 after-dinner jocularity. The more youthful and 
 aged part of the company, who preferred the 
 society of the softer sex, gradually disappeared 
 from their seats, leaving Lord Barnard closely 
 besieged by Goodenough and a few staunch 
 supporters, to whom all hints of joining the 
 ladies were as music to the deaf adder. Lord 
 Barnard at last began almost to lose his usual 
 
28 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 serenity of temper with these seemingly-deter- 
 mined fixtures, saying he was sorry to disturb 
 them, but that the room would be wanted 
 for laying out the supper. Goodenough capi- 
 tulated upon the condition of one more bottle of 
 claret, which was accordingly ordered. 
 
 By this time the company had nearly all as- 
 sembled in the drawing-rooms and saloon, which 
 were thrown open on this occasion and brilliantly 
 lighted up; and after refreshments had been 
 handed round, an adjournment was made to 
 the hall, which was gaily decorated as a ball- 
 room, and the old oak floor enlivened with vari- 
 ous devices in chalk. 
 
 The tenantry, who had in the meanwhile 
 been amply refreshed in the housekeeper's-room, 
 were now ushered in at the side door by the 
 portly butler, and several of them presented to 
 the lady of the mansion, to whom, although per- 
 sonally strangers, their names were familiar; 
 and by the kind and affable manners of their 
 highly-respected hostess, they soon found them- 
 selves considerably relieved from the gaucherie 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 29 
 
 and embarrassment consequent upon this their 
 first introduction to polite society. 
 
 The best available band having been engaged 
 from a neighbouring large market town, now 
 struck up the lively air of " St. Patrick's Day in 
 the Morning;" upon which the usual prelimi- 
 naries of bowing and scraping on the introduc- 
 tion of partners commenced, and the entire 
 length of the old hall was quickly occupied by 
 vis-a-vis for the first country dance, Lord Bar- 
 nard leading off with a buxom farmer's wife of 
 about his ov/n age. Several young gentlemen, 
 who had come fiilly prepared to make them- 
 selves as agreeable as possible to the fair ladies 
 of the mansion, were not a little disappointed 
 at being refused the honour of their hands, 
 which were bestowed upon the tenants for 
 the first dance ; but this being a tenants' 
 ball, such an arrangement was of course most 
 fitting. 
 
 Robert Howard, who had been perfectly fasci- 
 nated by the dazzling beauty of Julia, and had 
 seized the earliest opportunity of trying to engage 
 
30 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 her for the first dance, was not a Httle chagrined 
 at the failure of this his maiden suit. 
 
 " Why, Miss Julia," exclaimed he, rather pet- 
 tishly, " do you prefer dancing with that young 
 boor to me ?" 
 
 " I suppose, sir, I may choose my partners 
 without consulting you first ?" 
 
 " Oh ! undoubtedly," replied Robert, with the 
 most profound bow ; " young ladies are privi- 
 leged to exhibit their penchant or caprice in 
 any manner they please." 
 
 " And school-boys their impertinence, I con- 
 clude, if I am to judge by you." 
 
 Robert was exceedingly nettled by this retort, 
 and drawing himself haughtily up, exclaimed, 
 " I shall not be a schoolboy much longer," and 
 turned hastily off to seek another partner. Not 
 being troubled with mauvaise honte, our youth- 
 ful Adonis soon obtained the hand of one of 
 the prettiest girls in the room, without the aid 
 of a formal introduction, with whom he quickly 
 returned, occupying the place of next couple to 
 the offended Julia. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 31 
 
 Young Howard, all life and animation, his 
 handsome countenance lit up with unusual 
 brilliancy, and with the settled resolution of 
 making himself more than usually agreeable to 
 his fair companion, presented a strong contrast 
 to JuHa's sombre and abashed partner, who 
 stood mute and almost trembling by his side. 
 During the intervals of the dance, Robert crossed 
 over, chatting and laughing with his partner, at 
 the grotesque appearance of the young bear, as 
 he called him, on the other side, his remarks 
 being purposely loud enough to be overheard by 
 the fair Julia, who, although exceedingly mor- 
 tified, yet bore it all with apparent good 
 humour. 
 
 The contre danse being over, a quadrille was 
 next called for, in which the company became 
 more select, and a finer opportunity presented 
 itself for Robert to display his graceful move- 
 ments as a well-practised dancer ; and it must be 
 confessed many beautiful eyes were attracted 
 towards his performances and handsome person, 
 of which he appeared totally unconscious in the 
 
32 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 excitement of the dance and music. There 
 being an undue preponderance of gentlemen 
 over ladies, Harry Howard had, with his usual 
 retii'ing habits, taken his seat close to an old 
 farmer, whose acquaintance he had made on a 
 shooting excursion. The quadrille being ended, 
 a waltz was next played, and a few couples only 
 appeared in the magic circle. 
 
 " Well, Farmer Sampson," exclaimed Harry, 
 " how do you like that sort of dancing ?" 
 
 " Not much after my notion of doing things, 
 sir, although it may suit you gentlefolks. I don't 
 like it, sir, at all — can't abide the sight of it. 
 Them Frenchified manners don't suit my hu- 
 mour. All very well for the Mounseers t'other 
 side of the water ; but dang it all ! to see our 
 young ladies pulled and hauled about in that 
 'ere fashion — 'tis not right, young gentleman, 
 sorry old Thomas Sampson should be obliged to 
 say so — but it is not right, sir, and that's the 
 long and short of the matter, if I was to' 
 offend her ladyship by saying so. I can't help 
 it, I do not like to see it, and won't — there !" 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 33 
 
 " I quite agree with you, Mr. Sampson, nei- 
 ther do I approve of it." 
 
 "You don't ? — you be'ant in earnest, though ?" 
 
 " I am, Farmer — from my heart I detest 
 waltzing." 
 
 " You do — then give us your hand, young 
 gentleman, I'm glad to hear you say that — and 
 now, if you'll help an old man, w^ho's a cripple, 
 to toddle away from the sight of more of this, 
 you'll be doing me a great favour. I be as hot 
 as if I'd been threshing an hour in our barn 
 with Job Williams, and want summat to cool 
 me a little. I say, young gentleman, can you 
 teU me how I can get a draught of Mr. Smith's 
 home brewed ? the stuff in those little glasses 
 don't suit my stomach. I want to have a pull 
 at a quart cup of good October." 
 
 " And so you shall. Farmer ; come along — I 
 know the road." 
 
 The old man, leaning on the arm of his slight 
 companion, was now wending his way slowly 
 through the crowd, and in passing near where 
 Lady Barnard was sitting, her attention was 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWDOD. 
 
 directed towards the pair, when catchios: the 
 eye of Harry Howard, she beckoned them to 
 approach. 
 
 " Her Ladyship wi^ies to ^peaik to you," 
 whispered Henry Howaord, " and we musl pay 
 our respects to her in pacing.'* 
 
 As the Tenerable old man apfuroached her. 
 Lady Barnard, alHioagh heisdf an inTafid, and 
 unable to walk witbout as^stan«3e» partly rose 
 firom the cushion on iduch she itas re«£nin^ 
 and tendeni^ heat hand, kindfy greyed her 
 patriarchal tenant. 
 
 " Well, my worthy oM firiend, I »ni so ^ad 
 to see vou have been able to attend this fitlle 
 dance of ours, and I hope yon haTC heoi en- 
 tartamed.'' 
 
 " Thank you, kindly, my Leddy, I am b«t a 
 poor old cripple stiD, as you may see ; but this 
 night the music and all do cheer me up, and I 
 feel the better fiar it abeady " 
 
 '' I am del^bted to hear yon say so ; you 
 must make yourself at home, and ask Ibr what 
 you want" 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 35 
 
 " Thank you, my Leddy, for all your kind- 
 nesses." 
 
 On saying which, he was dragged away by 
 Harry to a side door, which communicated by 
 a back passage with the dining room, where a 
 most substantial supper had been laid out. 
 
 "Odds bobbs !" exclaimed old Samson, on 
 witnessing this goodly display of creature com- 
 forts, " why, here's a Lord Mayor's feast, all the 
 world over ; we mau'n't touch them fine things, 
 though, before the great folks have had their 
 turn first." 
 
 " Nonsense, my old friend ! sit you down in 
 that arm chair, and think yourself at home for 
 at least half an hour, as no one will interrupt 
 you for that time at least, and now here goes 
 for the quart of home-brewed first ; " saying 
 which, Henry Howard gave a strong pull at the 
 bell rope, upon which rattling summons Mr 
 Smith's portly frame quickly appeared. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Smith, is it you ? — just the man I 
 wanted to see. Mr. Samson here is longing for 
 a draught of your double XX home-brewed ale." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " He shall have it, sir, in a minute. Sit 
 down, Mr. Samson, and make yourself comfort- 
 able, and here's a little table all to yourself," 
 placing one by his side. 
 
 " But what would my Lord say, to see me in 
 his own arm chair taking such liberties?" 
 
 " Just this, Mr. Samson. * Smith,' he would 
 say, * you have done right, make every one as 
 happy as you can.' That's my Lord's humour, 
 and you ought to know him by this time as 
 well as myself, Mr. Samson." 
 
 Leaving the old farmer to the enjoyment of 
 his tankard of ale and a slice or two of cold 
 beef, we may peep into the ball-room again. 
 
 Robert Howard and his chum, Dick Darel, 
 are scanning the movements of the waltzers, 
 when Dick, espying his tutor's better half sitting 
 down, suddenly exclaimed, " By Jove ! Bob, 
 I'll go and ask her to have a turn, she looks so 
 handsome to-night." 
 
 " And get a broken head for your pains, Dick." 
 
 '*Howso?" 
 
 " Why I heard Meredith say, just now, if his 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 37 
 
 wife was to suffer herself to be whirled about in 
 that fashion, he would cut her legs off, and 
 break the head of any puppy who should be her 
 partner." 
 
 ** Oh, well, I'm glad you told me how the 
 wind sits in that quarter. I'll have a shy at 
 that girl in the pink dress, then, instead ; so 
 come along. Bob, and get a partner." 
 
 " No ; I'm tired of dancing, and disgusted — " 
 
 " Eh ? what's the matter. Bob ? you tired of 
 dancing — come, that won't do. But tell me, 
 what's put you out of sorts — honour bright, I 
 won*t peach." 
 
 " Well, then, I've made a fool of myself, 
 and quarrelled with the prettiest girl in the 
 room, who is now dancinj:: with that longlegged 
 fellow in uniform. Confound him ! I'll pick 
 a quarrel with that fellow, and have him 
 out." 
 
 " And be expelled the school just as you are 
 ready for Oxford — that would be making a 
 pretty hash of it. No, no, Bob, that cock must 
 not fight with you at any rate ; but seriously, 
 
38 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 you can't be in love again already — what's be- 
 come of Mary Brown ? " 
 
 " Mary Brown be hanged I she is only fit to 
 be lady's maid to that angel before you." 
 
 " Ah, Bob ! the old story, I suppose. * I've 
 danced and I've prattled with fifty fair maids,' 
 and kissed them as oft " 
 
 " Stop that nonsense, Dick ; I'm not in the 
 humour now for foolery." 
 
 *' Oh, very well, a desperate fit I see — but of 
 course it's reciprocal ? Well, now to set things 
 straight, I'll go and ask her for the next quad- 
 rille, and speak a good word for you." 
 
 " No, Dick, that won't do for me ; a friend 
 in need may be a friend indeed ; but there is 
 another old saying, equally true, ' Two of a 
 trade never agree ;' and it's more than probable 
 you would be speaking two words for yourself, 
 before one for me. That's my game, so no 
 poaching. Keep to your pink, and leave me 
 the blue. Richard's himself again — and off to 
 the rescue. Adieu !" saying which, Bob again 
 mixed in the throng. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 39 
 
 " Well," soliloquized Robert, " faint heart 
 never won fair lady. I have made a fool of 
 myself, that's clear enough ; but the amende 
 honorable must be made, or my chance is out." 
 The waltzers now ceased, and the fair Julia 
 w^as conducted to her seat by her gallant part- 
 ner, whose bow having been made, an opening 
 presented itself to the crest-fallen Robert. 
 Sobered, though not abashed, he again ap- 
 proached his lady-love, and in the most quiet 
 and gentlemanly manner, requested the honour 
 of her hand for the next dance. 
 
 '^ For that I am engaged, Mr. Howard." 
 " Will you allow me, then, to request the 
 same favour for the following one ?" 
 " For that also I am engaged." 
 The blood rushed like lightning to the tem- 
 ples of Robert Howard, suffusing his forehead 
 with a crimson hue, and for a moment he stood 
 motionless, struck mute with confusion at 
 what he thought nothing less than an intended 
 insult, a death-blow to his most sanguine hopes. 
 Soon, however, his natural hauteur resumed its 
 
40 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 ascendency, even in spite of other conflicting 
 emotions, and bowing, he sadly replied — 
 
 '* I am justly punished ;" and was moving 
 slowly away, when the beautiful, though offended 
 girl, with a true woman's feelings, pitying the 
 desponding look of her retreating admirer, sud- 
 denly exclaimed, 
 
 " Stay, Mr. Howard, I have made a mistake ; 
 I am engaged for the next quadrille, but should 
 a country dance be called instead, I have no 
 partner for that." 
 
 The animated smile which as suddenly lit up 
 his handsome features, must have repaid her for 
 this kind concession. His hand was almost in- 
 voluntarily held out, and gently pressed by hers. 
 It was the impulse of the moment only, of two 
 young and fervent hearts almost unconscious of 
 the action. 
 
 " A thousand thanks !" he exclaimed, in rap- 
 ture ; " then you do forgive me for my rudeness ?" 
 
 At this moment a quadrille tune struck up, 
 and as quickly struck down the spirits of Ro- 
 bert Howard. His fair Julia was led off on 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 41 
 
 another's arm. It was enough, however, she 
 had forgiven him. 
 
 Love has been portrayed as a passion. It 
 may be so in its general acceptation — but first- 
 love is of a much more exalted nature — a hea- 
 ven-born and holy instinct, implanted in the 
 hearts of our first parents, as God's precious 
 gift, when walking in innocence in the garden of 
 Eden. It is pure almost as the love of angels, 
 without any mixture of the grosser compounds 
 of mortality. The object of our first affections 
 may be sometimes invested with ideal perfec- 
 tions by the fond imagination of the worshipper, 
 before which our otherwise keen perceptions are 
 darkened. We sit entranced, enthralled before 
 this image of our own creation, and our fancy is 
 raised in proportion, and partakes of a loftier 
 flight, uncontaminated by the grosser feelings of 
 passion. What then, it may be asked, are the 
 beauties of mind and person in the female cha- 
 racter all ideal ? — Assuredly not. Perfection 
 cannot be attained by human nature, but the 
 nearest approach to it is found in woman. Man 
 
42 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 will betray his friend, or his own mother's son, 
 and leave him to perish, imcared for and un- 
 assisted — but what will not woman do and dare 
 for those she loves ? Selfishness is to her un- 
 known. In health and prosperity, man's cheer- 
 ful companion ; in adversity, his stedfast friend ; 
 in sorrow and sickness, his comforter ; in dis- 
 grace even, and death, his unflinching supporter. 
 Such is the love of woman ! 
 
 Robert Howard had never beheld any one half 
 so captivating as Julia Barnard, and his whole 
 thoughts and feelings were at once concentrated 
 in ardent and uncontrolled admiration of her 
 surpassing beauty. His eyes followed her me- 
 chanically wherever she moved, with a pang of 
 intense jealousy for every smile bestowed upon 
 her more fortunate partner; and whilst thus 
 occupied, Henry Howard approached him, say- 
 ing— 
 
 "Why are you not dancing, Robert ?*' 
 Witliout diverting his attention, he replied, 
 " I may ask you the same question, and what 
 is your answer ? " 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 43 
 
 *' A very simple one — I cannot get a partner ; 
 all are engaged two or three deep ; in fact, I 
 consider schoolboys at a discount to-night, when 
 there are so many young men, and two to one 
 in proportion to the ladies." 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose one answer will do 
 for both," 
 
 " Why, hot exactly, as you are such a favour- 
 ite with the fair sex, and generally find partners." 
 
 It is needless to repeat more of the sayings and 
 doings at the tenants' ball, which was kept up 
 with great spirit until the grey dawn appeared 
 in the east, when all departed well pleased with 
 their night's entertainment. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day, Robert 
 and Henry made their call at the Manor House, 
 to enquire after the welfare of the ladies. They 
 were at once admitted to pay their respects to 
 Lady Barnard, with w^hom they had become 
 great favourites, and had received carte blanche 
 to dine at the Manor House whenever they 
 could obtain the consent of their tutor. From 
 this time an intimacy sprung up between the 
 
44 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 young people, and the two youths became as 
 familiarized in this amiable family as in their 
 own home. The attentions of Robert to the 
 fair Julia did not escape the notice of Lady 
 Barnard, neither did she disapprove of them, 
 as he had by his winning manners and hand- 
 some person ingratiated himself completely in 
 her favour. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The period for Robert and Henry leaving the 
 roof of their kind-hearted tutor having now 
 arrived, they paid their last melancholy adieus 
 to the fair inmates of the old Manor House, 
 and set off for Oxford. The night before their 
 departure, however, Robert taxed his poetic fancy 
 in composing a farewell address to his lady-love, 
 vowing eternal constancy, &c. &c., depositing 
 the letter on a small table which stood in the 
 arbour of the garden, the favourite resort of his 
 beloved. 
 
 No power of the magician's wand can cause 
 a greater metamorphosis than that effected by 
 the stroke of the pen, which transforms a school- 
 
46 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 boy into a man, by enrolling his nanae on the 
 books of Alma Mater. Arrayed in the aca- 
 demical cap and gown, the young novitiate 
 feels, or rather fancies himself, at once a being 
 of some importance, and assumes the air and 
 dignified deportment of the man. Boyish pas- 
 times are laid aside, and a restraint imposed 
 upon his actions and feelings, which at first sits 
 awkwardly ; but habit soon reconciles him to 
 the change. That change, however, is greater 
 in appearance than in reality. The passions, 
 disposition, and feelings of the boy, still retain 
 their hold over the man, although checked and 
 disguised before the public eye, which he now 
 believes fixed upon him. The first lesson in 
 deception has been taught, and the natural 
 impulse of the heart, whether for good or evil, 
 must be suppressed or restrained. 
 
 There cannot be a greater contrast than that 
 apparent to every careful observer, in the bois- 
 terous, cheerful, and light-hearted buoyancy of 
 spirits, the general characteristics of a school- 
 boy, and the quiet, stiff, and formal demeanour 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 47 
 
 of the Oxford man. At school, boys quickly 
 become acquainted with each other in a very un- 
 ceremonious manner ; but the case is reversed at 
 college. There, a formal introduction is indis- 
 pensable. Men meet in chapel, at lectures, and 
 at the dinner-table, without a word being ex- 
 changed between those occupying adjacent 
 seats ; and this reserve will continue for weeks, 
 months, and even years, without any acquaint- 
 ance springing up, as it does in common life. 
 
 There is a story told of an Oxford man, who, 
 standing on the bank of the Isis, whilst another 
 was struggling in the river, was heard to 
 exclaim, — '* Oh ! I wish I had been introduced 
 to that fellow ; I could have saved his life." 
 The picture may be a little overcharged, but it 
 bears a very strong resemblance to original life 
 at Oxford. Much has been said and written 
 lately, both for and against the system of super- 
 vision and fagging exercised in public schools by 
 senior boys over their juniors, and it may not 
 therefore be out of place to relate the results of 
 my own experience in such matters. 
 
48 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 At ten years of age, I was sent to a large, 
 though not what is called generally, a public 
 school. It was, however, conducted precisely 
 upon the same principles. There were two 
 head masters and an usher ; and the elder boys 
 of the first form w^ere deputed to superintend 
 the juniors. Fagging, although not permitted, 
 w^as nevertheless carried on to a great extent ; 
 but certainly without the knowledge, much less 
 the sanction of the masters : in fact, the system 
 was so well organised, and the penalties attached 
 to telling out of school so severe, that I never 
 knew an instance of one boy betraying another, 
 even his most merciless tormentor. 
 
 Upon entering the school, my fate was to be 
 handed over to the tender mercies of one of the 
 greatest brutes and tyrants that ever disgraced 
 the human form. His disposition was perfectly 
 liend-like, taking the greatest delight in witness- 
 ing the pain he could inflict upon his unhappy 
 fag, and absolutely gloating over his cries. As 
 a sample of his cruelty, I may mention one or 
 two little punishments, which aflforded him in- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 49 
 
 effable pleasure. One was, to whip me along, 
 on the sharp flinty road behind the church 
 (where we were screened from view), upon my 
 bare feet, until the blood spirted out. If I ven- 
 tured to cry out, he would then seize me by the 
 throat with both his hands, and tighten his hold, 
 until I fell nearly suffocated on the ground. 
 Another favourite amusement was to hammer 
 me on what is called " the funny bone " of my 
 elbow, until my arm became paralyzed. There 
 was also one other torture, too horrible to men- 
 tion, to which I w^as occasionally subjected, the 
 pain of which was so intense that I fainted. 
 These cruelties were inflicted, be it remembered, 
 not as a punishment for any fault, or on account 
 of disobedience to his orders, but simply to 
 gratify his refined taste for cruelty. 
 
 The punishment awarded to other little boys, 
 who had the ill luck to fall under the displeasure 
 of this monster, were of a similar character. 
 There was on the south side of the churchyard 
 a large tomb, the cover of which being of one 
 single slab, had been made to move aside ; and 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 into this dungeon I have seen a helpless little 
 boy thrown, notwithstanding all his imploring 
 looks and cries for mercy, and the slab pushed 
 back again to its place, a small aperture only 
 being left to admit air. Another boy was sus- 
 pended from some high iron railing, to which 
 his arms and legs were tied by pieces of rope, 
 with a cord also round his neck, and in this 
 situation being left, he would most assuredly 
 have been strangled but for the fortunate arrival 
 of the usher on the spot, who cut him down just 
 in time, as he had already become black in the 
 face; but nothing would induce this boy to 
 divulge the name of his persecutor. 
 
 It is needless to recount other acts of cruelty 
 inflicted by this brute, who being of very demure 
 countenance, and exceedingly clever at his les- 
 sons, was a great favourite of all the masters, 
 who little dreamt of his savage propensities. 
 To the great joy of all the httle boys, their tor- 
 mentor was removed to Oxford, where he was 
 no less distinguished for his talents than for his 
 vicious course of life. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 51 
 
 At a large wine party in his college, having 
 had the audacity to propose a most blasphemous 
 toast, he was by universal acclamation seized 
 and thrown out of the window on the grass-plot 
 below ; and the last intelligence received of this 
 mauvais sujet was, that after leaving the uni- 
 versity he had settled in London, and rapidly 
 descending from bad to worse, was at last chosen 
 president of a conclave of pickpockets, who held 
 their rendezvous in a low, underground cellar, 
 where the knives and forks were chained to 
 the table. How true is the saying, ^^facilis 
 descensus averni." 
 
 It was my good fortune, after the departure 
 of my persecutor, to become the slave of one 
 exactly the opposite in character to my first 
 master. He was good-tempered and kind- 
 hearted, rewarding me plentifully with cakes, 
 tarts, and money also, for my services, which 
 were of a much more agreeable nature, although 
 attended with considerable risk. Charles Love- 
 bourne was between nineteen and twenty years 
 of age, a fine-looking, handsome young fellow, 
 i'' E 2 
 
 U. OF ILL LIB. ' 
 
52 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 a great favourite with the fair sex, and at this 
 time engaged in carrying on a liaison with a 
 very pretty school-girl, whose play-grounds ad- 
 joined ours. 
 
 My chief employment consisted in carrying 
 billets doux between the lovers: and when 
 appointments were made for their meeting, mine 
 w^as the office to act as sentinel, and give notice 
 of the approach of any intruder. This, at cer- 
 tain times, was a very hazardous business, when 
 their assignations happened to be made out of 
 school bounds, where, if caught, a flogging cer- 
 tainly awaited me. Their most favourite place 
 of meeting, however, was in an arbour at the 
 bottom of the garden, over which hung the 
 boughs of a large pear-tree ; and here, perched 
 up aloft in the fork of the tree, as soon as the 
 shades of evening began to fall, was it my privi- 
 lege to keep watch over the beauties below — no 
 very enviable situation, when a cold east wind 
 was blowing in my teeth. Almost every situa- 
 tion has, however, some recommendation, — so 
 had mine. Being under the protection of the 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 53 
 
 senior boy in the school, no other dare fag or 
 even touch me, so jealous was my master of his 
 slave ; neither were there wanting my best en- 
 deavours to please both him and his fair mistress 
 also, for which I was handsomely rewarded in 
 more ways than one. 
 
 But the life I then led was an unnatural one 
 for a boy of my age. When school hours were 
 over I could not join in the usual routine of the 
 school-boy games, such as cricket, football, fives, 
 &c. ; for indulging in such pastimes an oppor- 
 tunity was very seldom presented to me, em- 
 ployment of a very different kind being provided 
 for my leisure hours. This fagging system was 
 at last exploded by a delicate Httle boy who had 
 been sent home very ill from the school, in 
 consequence of harsh treatment by one of the 
 seniors. This poor little fellow, when safe in 
 his mother's arms, made a full confession of the 
 cruel usage he had experienced, upon her pro- 
 mising that he should not be sent back again. 
 The consequence, of course, was, that this lady 
 wrote a very full and particular account of these 
 
54 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 disgraceful proceedings to the head master, who 
 was not a little astonished to find, upon a 
 searching examination being made into the 
 matter, that such a well-organized system should 
 have been carried on such a length of time in 
 his own estabhshment, without his knowledge 
 or permission. 
 
 From that time a complete stop was put to 
 such practices. The masters, being deeply in- 
 terested in the welfare of the school, exercised 
 the greatest vigilance in the suppression of fag- 
 ging, and the usher, during play hours, also was 
 ever on the watch ; in short, a perfect Argus, 
 to protect the little boys from any further op- 
 pression. This Hydra-headed monster was thus 
 for ever crushed in our school, which very soon 
 attained the highest state of good order, and its 
 character for sound education stood so high at 
 the University, as to prove a passport of admit- 
 tance there, without the prehminary examination 
 by the tutors of the colleges. 
 
 In these enlightened and philanthropic days, 
 when undue severity cannot be exercised with 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 55 
 
 impunity even towards those who have justly 
 forfeited all claim to sympathy by their offences 
 against the laws of their country, it is only 
 reasonable to expect that a system so antago- 
 nistic to our deeply-rooted love of hberty, the 
 birthright of every Englishman, should meet 
 with almost universal condemnation. This 
 system of fagging or tyrannizing over the junior 
 boys at our public schools is productive of so 
 much mischief, both in a moral and physical 
 point of view, that it will and must be done 
 away with. It is idle to attempt to produce one 
 single argument in its defence. 
 
56 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 From this digression we will take up the 
 thread of our narrative, and relate how it fared 
 with Robert and Henry Howard upon their 
 introduction into Oxford life. The college at 
 which they had entered, formed a very conspi- 
 cuous object in the High Street, to which a 
 large flight of steps descended from the first or 
 outer quadrangle. This building was evidently 
 of more recent erection than the inner one, 
 whose dark-coloured weather-worn walls beto- 
 kened great antiquity. The rooms also bore a 
 very different appearance in point of height and 
 dimensions, being both small and low, and some 
 of those on the ground-floor little better than 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 57 
 
 dungeons, into which the cheering rays of the 
 sun seldom, if ever, could gain admittance. 
 
 At that time the colleges being very full, it 
 was the ill luck of our two young freshmen to 
 be installed in some of the most wretched apart- 
 ments that could possibly have been selected to 
 damp the ardour of academical pursuits. 
 
 On a dark, dismal day in November, the 
 coach at the Mitre set them down, where they 
 met their friend in his cap and gown, and then 
 marched off to college, where everything had 
 been prepared by their assiduous scout or ser- 
 vant for their reception, which could be procured 
 from the buttery hatch. The fare provided, 
 however, was of very homely description, con- 
 sisting of some little round loaves, butter, and 
 two plates of cold boiled beef, with a tankard of 
 ale, this being the usual allowance, or, as they 
 were called in college parlance, commons. The 
 rations in many of the large colleges at that 
 date served out to commoners were not of a 
 very extravagant order. At breakfast, two small 
 penny loaves, with a pat of butter. For dinner, 
 
58 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 a plate of cut meat (no joint being permitted to 
 appear on a commoner's table), with a penny loaf 
 and a quart of beer ; and for supper, cold meat 
 again, and another little round loaf. Tea, sugar, 
 and other luxuries, were to be provided out of 
 the student's own pocket. At the High Table, 
 however, where sat the Dons or Fellows in royal 
 state, an aldermanic feast smoked upon the board, 
 every delicacy of the season being served up for 
 their entertainment, with wines of the choicest 
 vintage. 
 
 It must be conceded, that the college at which 
 the two Howards had been admitted did not 
 rank very high in public estimation; but the 
 crowded state of others more fashionable, con- 
 strained them to enter there, or remain another 
 twelvemonth with their tutor ; but with a hand- 
 some allowance, and an extensive acquaintance 
 in other colleges, they were prepared to make 
 themselves as comfortable as circumstances would 
 admit of. 
 
 Collegians have, however, a few other things 
 to learn besides Latin and Greek, and at college 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 59 
 
 the first lessons are often taught them in do- 
 mestic economy also. They must of necessity 
 make their own coffee, toast their own bread, 
 and boil their eggs. A scene of this sort has 
 been very humourously described by the late 
 Thomas Haynes Bailey, when breakfasting with 
 a college acquaintance : — 
 
 " My friend all the time was on his legs, 
 Now baking the toast, now boiling the eggs ; 
 From table to fire-place running about, 
 Now scalding his fingers, now blaming the scout.'* 
 
 To those who have just escaped from the 
 restraints of school, college life is in comparison 
 a life of freedom ; although here also there are 
 certain rules and regulations, which must be 
 complied with. 
 
 From the hour of seven till half-past eight in 
 the morning, according to the season of the 
 year, the tinkling of the college bells is heard 
 throughout the University, summoning the 
 studeats to chapel. The general breakfast hour 
 is nine o'clock, after which, certain lectures 
 given by the tutors of the respective colleges 
 
60 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 must be attended ; each lecture lasting an hour. 
 The dinner hour is about four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, with which terminates the business of 
 the day. An adjournment is then made to their 
 respective rooms, where the students enjoy their 
 " Otium cum dignitate, or sine dignitate" over 
 their wine and dessert. Here the grand re- 
 unions take place, and very great displays are 
 often made at these wine parties. Ices, jellies, 
 and confectionary, and all the fruits of the sea- 
 son, adorn the table in great profusion. In by- 
 gone times, the feast of reason and the flow of 
 soul continued without interruption until the 
 sound of the evening bell gave notice that it 
 was time to retire to the ladies, or rather the 
 chapel, as the old song runs. 
 
 *' The soul of man shall leave his can, 
 
 When he hears the mighty Tom," &c. — 
 
 a name given to the large bell of Christ Church, 
 which always rings at nine o'clock, after which 
 hour, the college gates are closed for the night, 
 and no egress allowed to any but out-college 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 61 
 
 men. When the front college gates are closed, 
 admission can only be obtained at the porter's 
 lodge, who keeps a book, in which all the names 
 of those are registered who return late to college, 
 with the hour also at which they are let in ; and 
 those who are known to keep late hours are 
 admonished first ; and this failing in the desired 
 effect, upon a repetition of the offence, subjected 
 to various pains and penalties. A fee to the 
 janitor, however, has its usual effect, and a silver 
 key will often unlock the door at any hour of 
 the night or morning, without any entry in the 
 log. The officials, although all servants of the 
 college, and holding their appointments under 
 the heads of houses or fellows, seldom betray 
 their young masters, from whom, independent of 
 their regular pay, they receive many gratuities, 
 and derive also very considerable perquisites. 
 
 It is the business of a single servant or scout 
 to wait upon several students, clean their rooms, 
 make their beds, and prepare their breakfast, 
 and all this is done with a precision and celerity 
 almost marvellous. These men are of course 
 
62 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 obliged to work early and late ; but it does not 
 take more tban ten minutes for an active man, 
 quite aufait at his business, to lay the cloth, 
 light the fire, and set the room to rights, unless 
 there has been a wine or supper party the pre- 
 vious night. 
 
 Those whose allowance would admit of it, 
 were also permitted to keep their own servant to 
 wait upon them ; but this indulgence was not 
 generally approved of by the dons. Upon a 
 freshman entering a college, he is, if unacquainted 
 with any of the junior members, generally intro- 
 duced by one of the tutors to some of his 
 favourites, one or other of whom makes a point 
 of inviting him to a wine party, at which a 
 more general introduction takes place, and he is 
 then fairly launched on college life, and left to 
 form his own coterie of select friends. Upon 
 the choice then made, depends very much the 
 weal or woe of every man's future existence. 
 
 In a few days, the two freshmen, as they 
 were called, were invited to a large wine party 
 given by a fellow-coUegian, who, taken by their 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 63 
 
 appearance, thought to obtain credit by their 
 introduction to his particular set of friends (the 
 majority of whom were of the jovial order), as 
 well as some benefit to • himself. The host, on 
 this occasion, was John Redman, already in 
 ideas and practice a man of the world — facetious, 
 affable, and good-humoured, with ready wit and 
 tact sufficient to ensnare the unwary and blind 
 the unsuspicious. Having himself only very 
 limited means, just sufficient to enable him to 
 complete his college education, which was to be 
 the passport to his future advancement in after- 
 life, he was the first to ingratiate himself into 
 the good opinion of any freshman whose ac- 
 quaintance he thought might be turned to some 
 better account hereafter ; and having learnt that 
 the young Howards were of good fortune, family, 
 and connections, he resolved to secure their 
 friendship, by introducing them to his own 
 particular set, and giving a grand /c^^e in honour 
 of their introduction to college life. 
 
 No Mentor could be more plausible, or appa- 
 rently more solicitous about the welfare of his 
 
64 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 protegees. He cautioned them about taking 
 more wine than they liked (as men at that time 
 were given to hard drinking), concluding with 
 many similar pieces of advice on other points 
 upon which they might be assailed, thus securing 
 their good opinion of his friendly intentions to- 
 wards them. 
 
 This party being intended to be on a grand 
 scale, invitations were accordingly sent out a 
 few days previously, in anticipation of the event, 
 and every preparation made to give eclat to it ; 
 and old John Thatcher, the scout, summoned to 
 a private rehearsal in Mr. Redman's sitting- 
 room, the nature of which will transpire from 
 the following colloquy. 
 
 The scene opens with Mr. Redman sitting 
 over the fire in a brown study, with his feet 
 upon the fender — a knock at the door — " Come 
 in," in a loud voice. 
 
 Enter old John, bowing obsequiously. 
 
 Redman. — " Where hast thou been, thou old 
 curmudgeon, when I told you to be in my 
 rooms an hour ago ? " 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECflWOOD. 65 
 
 " Is, sir," his usual way of pronouncing yes. 
 
 " Confound you, for an old knave ! is that any 
 answer to my question ? Why have you kept 
 me waiting here an hour at least ?" 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 " By Jove, I've a mind to send you head 
 foremost down stairs." 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 " Where have you been, I say ?" 
 
 " Mr. Smith's rooms, sir." 
 
 " Large party, there ? " 
 
 " Is, sir — couldn't come before, sir — Is, sir." 
 
 " Now hold your tongue, then, and listen to 
 what I say." 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 "I am going to give a large party, too, on 
 Friday." 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 *' I am going to have a large wine party. 
 From twenty to thirty." 
 
 *' Is, sir." 
 
 " Now, John, mind what I am telling you. 
 Everything must be done in first-rate style." 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Is, sir/' 
 
 "Go to Jubbers, the pastrycook, and tell him 
 I have some young Freshmen coming, with 
 plenty of money, and I'll introduce them to him, 
 if he sends me a first-rate spread. Do you 
 understand?" 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 " Then to Simms, the wine merchant — same 
 story, John, to send the best wine he has in his 
 cellar." 
 
 " Is, sir." 
 
 " Now be off, and don't forget." 
 
 John hesitating. 
 
 "WeU, what is it, John? "^ 
 
 "Plates, sir — knives and forks, sir — Is, sir." 
 
 "Well, how many are there left?" 
 
 " Not a dozen, sir — nearly all broken. Three 
 tea-cups, and only half-a-dozen coffee-cups, and 
 no saucers. Two decanters, sir, one with his 
 neck cracked — all nearly smashed, sir, at that 
 last wine party, by Mr. Patrick Phelan, sir, 
 v/hen he shied his cap across the table, sir — 
 Is, sir." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 67 
 
 "Borrow, John — borrow, borrow, and mind 
 you borrow enough." 
 
 " Is, sir." — Exit John Thatcher on his hope- 
 ful errand. 
 
 The outlay in setting up a Freshman in 
 college housekeeping amounts to a considerable 
 sum when everything is ordered new from the 
 different tradesmen, but after the first twelve- 
 month few traces remain of the original patterns 
 of either glass or crockery ware. Those, how- 
 ever, who have friends at college, or have been 
 otherwise let behind the scenes, pursue a differ- 
 ent course, and a much more economical one, by 
 buying second-hand of the scouts sufficient of 
 these articles for their own particular uSe, and 
 borrowing afterwards, through the same chan- 
 nel, as occasion may require. 
 
 We will draw a veil over the wine party which 
 ensued, as the sayings and doings of Bacchana- 
 lians are little fitted for ears polite ; suffice to say, 
 that this said conclave continued its sitting until 
 a very late hour, when grilled bones, anchovy 
 toast, and such little stimulants, gave the finish- 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 ing stroke to those who could still hold out, or 
 hold on to the table. 
 
 Robert Howard was one of the last to quit 
 the festive scene ; and having enlivened the com- 
 pany with a few choice songs, he obtained the 
 approbation of his host, who pronounced him a 
 capital fellow, and one of the right sort. Henry, 
 seeing how matters were likely to terminate, 
 absented himself as early as consistent with 
 etiquette, for which he was denounced a 
 spooney. 
 
 The following day, Robert awoke with a 
 splitting headache, as a matter of course, and a 
 considerable quantity of soda-water was required 
 to neutralize the effects of the fiery potations of 
 the previous night. 
 
 The penalty of keeping bad company was 
 visited also up on Harry, in a manner rather 
 startling to a Freshman. Upon rising and look- 
 out of window the next morning, he was not a 
 little surprised and horrified to see one of his 
 own chairs sticking on the top of the college 
 lamp, which stood immediately under, an inte- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 69 
 
 resting, if not amusing spectacle to all beholders, 
 dean and tutors included, who were just return- 
 ing from chapel. Whilst musing and meditating 
 on this unpleasant phenomenon, a smart rap at 
 the door attracted his attention in that direction. 
 The porter made his appearance, with a polite 
 message from the Dean, requesting Mr. Howard, 
 junior's, presence in his rooms, with the least 
 possible delay. 
 
 Before Harry could recover from his surprise, 
 the porter had vanished, and another visitor, very 
 unceremoniously entered (evidently in hot haste) 
 who was no other than his new acquaintance of 
 the previous evening — Pat Phelan. 
 
 " By the powers !" he exclaimed ; " it's a fine 
 scrape I'm likely to be in anyway just now, with 
 that little sneaking devil of a porter on the 
 scent." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter, Mr. Phelan?" 
 enquired Harry. 
 
 " Oh ! botheration, don't Mr. Phelan me, my 
 dear boy ; for if you don't stand my friend at this 
 point, it's all over with Pat Phelan's university 
 
70 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 education — the third time pays for all — and I'm 
 a mighty favourite with all the dons already, ill 
 luck to them !" 
 
 " Will you explain yourself?" asked Harry. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure. Those grilled hones, with a 
 trifling drop of eau de vie, finished the business 
 for me last night, and put mischief enough and 
 to spare into Pat Phelan's head. I tried first, to 
 draw you, my boy, from your crib, and finding 
 that would not do, I just turned your sitting- 
 room topsy turvy, and threw some of the chairs 
 out of window ; and, as ill luck would have it, 
 the leg of one just made a hole in the top of 
 the lamp, where it now sticks, and be hanged 
 to it. Well, that's bad enough; but as the 
 power of mischief was over me quite entirely, 
 I just let fly with one of my pop-guns at that 
 white-faced spooney opposite, who was poring 
 over his books as usual, with the midnight oil 
 burning, and the ball just passed over his head 
 and lodged in the wall behind him. The fellow 
 swears some men tried to murder him, and sus- 
 picion rests on me ; although it's well known 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 71 
 
 Pat Phelan can snuff a candle without touching 
 the wax. But just to jump to the conclusion 
 at once. The dons think the shot was fired 
 from your rooms, and there sticks the chair as 
 evidence that some madcap like Pat Phelan was 
 there, or thereabouts. The porter I have just 
 passed on the stairs ; so, taking all together, if 
 you split — a trip into the country is the certain 
 consequence. In sober seriousness — I am a 
 ruined man, — for my father, having a large 
 family, is barely able to support me at the 
 university, and all my hopes in after-life depend 
 upon my taking my degree." 
 
 Harry stood for a while, hesitating what course 
 to pursue, his father's last injunctions passing 
 quickly through his mind ; but with a well- 
 grounded dread of displeasing his ever kind- 
 hearted parent, he well knew also his father's 
 generous disposition, and at last resolved to act, 
 as he thought he would have done, under the 
 same circumstances. 
 
 " Phelan," he said, " your secret is safe with 
 me, on one condition, that you give me your 
 
72 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 word of honour you will never fire another 
 pistol shot within these college walls." 
 
 " That," said Phelan, " I most willingly and 
 cheerfully engage." 
 
 " Very well — the rest remains with me, and 
 I must be off to see the Dean." 
 
 " But, my dear fellow !" exclaimed Pat, " how 
 will you get out of the confounded mess I have 
 brought you into ?" 
 
 " Simply by speaking the truth — but on one 
 point I am resolved not to say one word." 
 
 " Then, you will be rusticated." 
 
 " So be it — my promise has been given. You, 
 at least, are safe ;" saying which, he snatched up 
 his cap and gown, and turned down stairs. A 
 short walk across the quadrangle brought Harry 
 to the Dean's door, to which a small brass 
 knocker was attached, the said appendage being 
 an exception to the general doors of the college. 
 With trembling hand, two or three faint taps 
 were given, in response to which a soft, melli- 
 fluous voice from within, answered, " Come in." 
 Cap in hand, Harry made his entree with a low 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 73 
 
 bow, saying he had presented himself in obedi- 
 ence to a message from the porter. 
 
 Being invited to take a seat, the Dean thus 
 commenced his dreaded oration : — 
 
 " I have sent for you, Mr. Howard, in conse- 
 quence of its having been reported to me, that a 
 most riotous party assembled in your rooms last 
 evening, and that a very serious outrage has been 
 perpetrated against one of the junior members 
 of the college, which might have been attended 
 with fatal consequences — a pistol-ball was fired 
 from your room window (such is my information), 
 which passed immediately over the head of Mr. 
 Plodder, who was reading at his table in the room 
 opposite. Such practices, sir, cannot be tolerated, 
 but must be visited with severe punishment, and 
 it is my duty to investigate this matter. What 
 have you to say, sir, in answer to this grave 
 charge ?" 
 
 " Simply, Mr. Dean, that part of this accusa- 
 tion may be true — the other part is certainly 
 without any foundation." 
 " How so, sir ?'* 
 
74 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " There was no party whatever in my rooms 
 last evening, as I happened to be absent the 
 whole time, at a friend's, whence I returned 
 rather late, at once retiring to rest." 
 
 " How then, sir, do you account for one of 
 your chairs being found sticking on the top of 
 the college lamp ? the said chair could not have 
 walked out of your window, Mr. Howard, without 
 assistance ; of that fact you are, of course, aware, 
 and I must require some explanation." 
 
 " All the information," replied Harry, " which 
 I can communicate on this subject, shall be 
 readily given. I returned rather late to my 
 rooms, and immediately retired to bed ; but 
 soon after, I was aroused by a loud knocking 
 at my bedroom door, and some one requesting 
 admittance. On demanding the name of my 
 nocturnal visitor and his business at that late 
 hour, no answer was returned ; but the knocking 
 being repeated, I threatened to use the poker, 
 unless this annoyance ceased; upon which I 
 heard footsteps in my sitting-room, and the 
 window thrown open. More I knew not, till 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 75 
 
 this morning, when I discovered one of my 
 chairs resting on the lamp below. I did not 
 hear the report of the pistol ; nor do I think 
 the shot could have been fired from my room." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Howard, that may be all very 
 true; but you have undoubtedly a grave sus- 
 picion who this unceremonious visitor may have 
 been?" 
 
 " Certainly I have, sir, and my suspicions 
 have been this morning confirmed, by the con- 
 fession of the person implicated ; but that con- 
 fession was made with so much contrition, that 
 my word has been passed not to divulge his 
 name." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Howard ! Then our dignity is 
 to be compromised, and this outrage passed over, 
 merely because you have promised not to betray 
 the offender. It cannot be, sir ; you must give 
 up his name, or bear the consequences yourself, 
 as having a guilty knowledge, if not of being 
 actually yourself a party concerned." 
 
 **The latter insinuation, Mr. Dean, I most 
 emphatically repudiate," replied Harry, rather 
 
76 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 testily ; " and I must beg respectfully, but 
 firmly, to adhere to my promise. But, I may 
 add, that promise was given conditionally, that 
 no such offence should ever be repeated by that 
 person within these walls, or I would be the first 
 to lay the information before you." 
 
 The Dean rose from his chair, and paced the 
 room for a few seconds, when confronting Harry, 
 he said — 
 
 "I admire your candour, Mr. Howard, and 
 would wilHngly screen you from the conse- 
 quences of your imprudent promises; but the 
 whole college is i'n an uproar, and I am expecting 
 every moment a message from the Provost on 
 this unpleasant business. A further investiga- 
 tion must take place, and the perpetrator of this 
 night's folly will be required to be given up." 
 
 " Then sir, I am afraid, the consequences must 
 fall upon my own head." 
 
 " Mr. Howard," replied the Dean, " I will be 
 as candid with you as you have been with me, 
 and tell you, that as your conduct hitherto has 
 been such as I approve, in regular attendance at 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 77 
 
 chapel, and in other respects, I shall use my 
 endeavours to protect you from the consequences 
 likely to ensue, in regard to your unwilling par- 
 ticipation in this grave offence." 
 
 Thus ended the interview. Harry returned 
 to his rooms, where he found Pat Phelan im- 
 patiently awaiting his return, who was not a 
 little delighted to find his new friend had held 
 firmly to his word, and that he at least was likely 
 to avoid a collision with the dons. Harry, how- 
 ever, had made the Dean his friend also, who 
 took his part, and the punishment awarded con- 
 sisted only in a severe lecture, with caution for 
 the future. 
 
 When the affair had blown over, Pat was 
 rather profuse in his praises of Harry, for whom 
 he ever afterwards retained a very deep regard ; 
 and he was the only man in college who could 
 ever control the fiery temper of this hot-headed, 
 though light-hearted, son of Erin. Harry's 
 narrow escape from rustication exercised a verj^ 
 powerful influence over his future conduct, al- 
 though by principle and taste he was disposed not 
 
78 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 to commit excesses ; but ever afterwards he 
 avoided large and noisy parties, contenting 
 himself with the society of a few select friends, 
 whose ideas and habits were more in unison 
 with his own. Robert's inclinations running in 
 a contrary direction, he soon became the leader 
 of the gay and noisy party, so that, except at 
 the chapel and dinner-table, the two cousins did 
 not often meet. 
 
 Thus passed three of the most eventful years 
 of the young men's lives ; and the time having 
 arrived for taking their degree, both passed their 
 examination, and returned home. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mr. Howard, the father of Harry, was a 
 gentleman of very old family, then living at his 
 country seat, Beechwood, surrounded by a large 
 tract of landed property, of which he was pro- 
 prietor, and at this period devoting his chief time 
 to agricultural pursuits. In his younger days he 
 had lived a good deal in high life, having been 
 remarkably handsome, with polished and agree- 
 able manners, so much so, as to attract the 
 notice of royalty, by whom he was offered an 
 appointment at court. As heir to a large for- 
 tune, he had a very handsome allowance from 
 his father, then living, and kept his racers and 
 
80 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 hunters ; and with the former, often ridden by 
 himself, he had carried off a great many prizes. 
 Upon marrying, he very soon retired into private 
 life, keeping a good stud of hunters and a very 
 superior pack of hounds, which none could 
 manage more scientifically than himself. Al- 
 though rather eccentric on some points, he was 
 universally beloved by his poorer neighbours, 
 possessing one of the most generous, kind hearts 
 that ever beat in human breast. One example 
 of both his eccentricity and kindness of disposi- 
 tion will explain his character as much or more 
 than many pages. 
 
 During a severe winter, the poor of his parish 
 were suffering much from want of work and 
 provisions. Mr. Howard meeting the butcher, 
 asked him how they got on in the village. 
 
 "Very badly, sir. It's no use my buying 
 sheep any longer, for there's none now to sell 
 to. We shall be starved soon altogether, if this 
 sharp w^eather lasts much longer." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear such an account," re- 
 plied Mr. Howard, " but come with me. Do 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 81 
 
 you see those sheep in the field ? — How many 
 are there ?" 
 
 " About a score, sir, I should think." 
 
 " Yes, that's about the number. They have 
 been fatting for the house, and are now ready. 
 If those sheep are taken away this evening, 
 killed, and distributed properly among the poor 
 to-morrow, the butcher won't be transported, 
 and he may have the skins for his trouble." 
 
 Old Anthony pulled off his hat, and was 
 about to express his thanks, when Mr. Howard 
 stopped all such attempts by riding quickly off 
 in another direction. 
 
 Farmers also, if unable to make up their 
 rent, or requiring a little assistance in bad times, 
 often made Mr. Howard their banker, without 
 his demanding security or five per cent, for the 
 loan. Such was Mr. Howard ; — totally devoid 
 of worldly- mindedness, his chief pleasure was 
 derived from affording pleasure to others. It is 
 almost needless to add, that he was a good hus- 
 band, a fond and indulgent father, although in 
 certain points very strict with his children. Mrs. 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 Howard was also of very old family, and had 
 been one of the belles of her day, still retaining 
 those regularly handsome features which are not 
 so easily affected by the hand of time as those 
 of less classical mould. She had now, as well 
 as Mr. Howard, retired from gay life, devoting 
 her time to her children and the relief of the 
 poor: in fact, a more estimable person than 
 Mrs. Howard never existed. Self was entirely 
 forgotten, her chief anxiety consisting in making 
 those who came within her sphere happy and 
 comfortable. Her youngest boy, Harold, being 
 a very sickly child, required every possible care, 
 and by her unremitting attention alone, he had 
 been snatched from an early grave. 
 
 Robert Howard returned also to his father's 
 seat, the Grange, an antique mansion like Beech- 
 wood, built in the Elizabethan style, and situated 
 within a short distance of his cousins. His 
 father being now far advanced in life, and of 
 retired habits, Robert was left uncontrolled mas- 
 ter over his time and actions. He had, during 
 the vacations, kept up his connection with the 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 83 
 
 Barnard family, and from his flirtations with the 
 beautiful Julia, it was generally supposed his 
 affections were engaged to her beyond dispute. 
 Harry also had not escaped quite heart-whole 
 during all this time. About four miles distant 
 from Beechwood (his father's house) resided a 
 Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn, with an only daughter of 
 Mrs. Selwyn's by a former marriage with Cap- 
 tain Maitland, of the Guards, a gentleman 
 
 of old and high family in Scotland, who had 
 died within three years of his marriage. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn, after her first husband's death, 
 remained a widow for many years, although from 
 her extreme beauty and fascinating manners, she 
 had received many most advantageous offers of 
 marriage ; and it was only a few years previously 
 that she accepted Mr. Selwyn, a gentleman 
 much her senior in years, but of good connec- 
 tions and large fortune. Mr. Selwyn had also 
 an only son by a former marriage, who was 
 now the father of a large family, and resided in 
 the adjoining county. 
 
 Mary Maitland was now entering her seven- 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 teenth year, her first acquaintance with Harry 
 Howard having commenced about two years pre- 
 viously. She was rather above the usual height 
 of women, of slight but finely moulded propor- 
 tions and graceftil figure, and of very interesting, 
 if not strictly beautiful, features, dark brown 
 hair, and dark grey eyes, beaming with softness 
 and vivacity ; but, above all, she possessed a 
 sweetness of expression and gentleness of dispo- 
 sition, which, added to her loveHness of person, 
 rendered her almost irresistibly attractive. 
 
 Harry Howard, on his return from Oxford, 
 was much struck by the almost sudden improve- 
 ment in Mary Maitland's appearance, who, within 
 a few months, had grown from a pretty girl 
 into a fascinating woman. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Harry, mentally, " that I 
 could call that sweet, artless girl by the endear- 
 ing name of sister ! what happiness would it be 
 to watch over, guide, and protect her, on her 
 first hazardous entrance upon life !" 
 
 Such was the nature of Harry Howard's 
 feelings at that time towards his fair neighbour ; 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 85 
 
 how soon they underwent a change may here- 
 after appear. 
 
 Harry's career at Oxford had passed without 
 having produced in him any change of prin- 
 ciples or conduct ; for although assailed by the 
 usual temptations, he had come clear out of the 
 furnace. With chivalrous and rather romantic 
 feelings, he still possessed a firm and determined 
 resolution, from which no arts or persuasions 
 could ever turn him, when he beheved he was 
 doing right. The usual amusements and recre- 
 ations of gay young men possessed no attractions 
 for him ; he despised their follies and abhoiTed 
 their vices ; but there was one pursuit of which 
 he was passionately fond, the sports of tlie field ; 
 and with the purpose of excelling in all he un- 
 dertook, he soon became an accomplished and 
 daring rider and superior sportsman, yet with 
 the kindest disposition towards all dumb ani- 
 mals, which was shown by his dogs and horses 
 being excessively attached to their young master, 
 who always attended to their wants before con- 
 sidering his own, when returning from the field. 
 
86 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Harry had now reached his twentieth year ; 
 his features had assumed a more manly cast ; 
 in stature he was rather tall, being nearly six feet, 
 but although slightly formed, he possessed great 
 activity and strength, combined with courage 
 equal to meet dangers of any kind, yet with a 
 heart tender and compassionate almost to a fault, 
 for the misfortunes or distresses of others. Such 
 was Harry Howard, when first setting sail on 
 the troubled sea of life. 
 
 Robert was inferior in height to his cousin, 
 but had grown up in form and features a perfect 
 Adonis. The character of the boy still re- 
 mained not only unchanged, but confirmed ; he 
 was gay, light-hearted, and fickle ; principles or 
 consistency of conduct he had none. His hand- 
 some person obtained for its possessor almost 
 universal favour with the fair sex, and vanity 
 was now added to his other foibles ; in short, he 
 considered himself a perfect lady-killer, to which 
 title his almost uniform success in love-making 
 and flirtations gave him a fair claim. His 
 passion for Julia Barnard was at first perhaps of 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 87 
 
 a purer nature, but now mingled with vanity and 
 ambition. When in her company, the remarks 
 made by others could not fail to reach his ear, 
 " What a handsome couple !" His boon com- 
 panions also complimented him on his choice, 
 declaring she was the prettiest girl they had 
 ever beheld. Thus his vanity and self-love were 
 alike flattered. She had also rank and fortune 
 as additional attractions ; but for disinterested 
 affection, if he had ever felt such towards her, 
 that was now rendered subservient to other 
 considerations. 
 
 The two cousins, although so dissimilar in 
 ideas and pursuits, were now thrown much toge- 
 ther, from being such close neighbours in the 
 country, and the absence of other young men 
 in their immediate vicinity. They often made 
 calls and dined at Elm Grove, and Robert 
 could not suppress his admiration of Miss Mait- 
 land. 
 
 " Really, Harry," said Robert one day, as they 
 were returning from Mr. Selwyn's, " it is sur- 
 prising what an improvement has taken place in 
 
88 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 Miss Maitland's appearance within the last six 
 months, or is it because one never sees anything 
 of ladies' society at Oxford, and therefore fancy 
 the first girl we meet almost an angel ?" 
 
 "Not exactly that, I conclude, Robert," re- 
 plied Henry; "for the same thing struck me 
 also, that she has now become a lovely and 
 fascinating girl." 
 
 " Oh, indeed. Master Harry ! I was not aware 
 before, that such an anchorite as yourself could 
 be influenced by female beauty. Women, I 
 thought, were forbidden fruit to you." 
 
 *' Certainly, Robert, a particular class of women 
 excite in my mind only feelings of pity or 
 disgust ; but, on the other hand, I consider a 
 young, lovely, and modest woman the most 
 beautiful work of the whole creation." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Simon Pure, that is a wonderful 
 admission for you, and I suppose thereby you 
 are in love with Miss Maitland." 
 
 " Not so, Master Robert," replied Harry ; 
 " although I think her very interesting and 
 pretty." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 89 
 
 "Aye, aye, I see how it will be," rejoined 
 Robert; "but I rather fancy the girl myself, 
 and there is nothing like having two or three 
 strings to your bow, in case of one snapping. 
 Old Selwyn, they say, is as rich as a Jew, and 
 if JuHa don't suit, Mary Maitland may. So, 
 Master Harry, I shall play my cards accord- 
 ingly, unless my sober-minded cousin fancies he 
 can cut me out, which, by the way, I don't 
 think very likely." 
 
 " Oh, of course not," rejoined Harry ; " I 
 should not presume to compete with such a 
 handsome, gifted person as yourself; but I only 
 hope you will not endeavour to gain this young 
 and artless girl's affections, when you have 
 already gone so far with Julia Barnard." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense !" cried Robert ; " there's 
 no harm in a little innocent flirtation ; and no- 
 thing in the world I enjoy so much as making 
 love to young girls in their teens. They are so 
 bashful and timid at first, blushing up to their 
 eyes, if the least allusion is made to love or 
 marriage. Then to see how they swallow all 
 
90 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 the soft nonsense that is breathed into their 
 ears, their changing colour, nervous trepidation, 
 and downcast looks, as if dreading their eyes 
 should betray the feelings working in their 
 hearts. Oh ! it's charming 1 quite delight- 
 ful!" 
 
 " Robert," said Henry, firmly, " the man who 
 is capable of thus tampering with a young girl's 
 first and purest affections is a villain." 
 
 " Then of course your humble servant is one 
 in your estimation," replied Robert, " and not 
 fit for the society of such a refined person as 
 Mr. Harry Howard ;" saying which, he set spurs 
 to his horse, and dashed away. 
 
 From this day there arose a perceptible cool- 
 ness between the cousins, and Harry mourned 
 over the fate which he thought almost inevitable 
 to Mary Maitland, without knowing how it could 
 be avoided. He had seen too much of Robert's 
 winning, flirting manner with women to doubt 
 its effect on that young girl, and he could not 
 endure the thought of seeing her fall a prey to 
 his heartless machinations, believing that he 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 91 
 
 never entertained a serious thought of marrying 
 her. 
 
 About a fortnight after the conversation above 
 related between the cousins, they were both 
 invited to a dinner-party at Elm Grove, and 
 Harry witnessed with sorrow the evident plea- 
 sure with which Mary was listening to Robert's 
 flattering compliments. Her pleased expression 
 and varying colour revealed to Harry ominous 
 signs of her sentiments towards the ruthless 
 destroyer of her future peace of mind ; but in 
 their present position, he felt powerless to assist 
 her, or avert the mischief which he was con- 
 fident would follow. 
 
 Harry Howard, diffident of his own personal 
 or intellectual endowments, and aware of his 
 cousin's superiority in looks and manner, shrunk 
 back from the contest with his more favoured 
 rival, whose attentions to Miss Maitland, as if in 
 derision of his cousin's disapproving looks, were 
 most particular during the whole evening. 
 
 There was a Miss Dundonald, a particular 
 friend of Mary Maitland's, staying at Elm 
 
92 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Grove, with whom Harry was sitting and con- 
 versing after dinner, when she observed — 
 
 " What a very handsome, fascinating person 
 your cousin is, Mr. Howard ; he is really almost 
 too good-looking for a man ; I think he would 
 have made a beautiful girl ; his features are too 
 fine and delicate for your sex." 
 
 " And yet he appears," replied Harry, " to be 
 a great favourite with the ladies. All are ready 
 to fall in love with him at first sight." 
 
 " Not all, Mr. Howard ; I should not at least 
 be one of the number. His manners are, to 
 use a vulgar expression, too finnicking and 
 flirting to have much influence with any but 
 very young girls, and his countenance wants 
 that manly expression which women of sense 
 regard more, far more, than regularity of fea- 
 tures. The index to a man's mind is generally 
 shewn by the eye, and I can read nothing 
 in Mr. Robert Howard's expression, in the 
 least indicative of a firm or settled purpose, 
 and yet I am aware he is still most fasci- 
 nating." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 93 
 
 " And therefore, Miss Dundonald," replied 
 Henry, gravely, " a most dangerous companion 
 to a young and unsophisticated girl, like your 
 friend. Miss Maitland." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Howard, he certainly may be so ; 
 but Mary is not likely to fall in love with the 
 first handsome man she meets with — she is 
 much too sensible, I hope, to commit such folly, 
 although I admit the temptation is great as 
 regards your cousin." 
 
 " I sincerely hope not, Miss Dundonald — but 
 at this moment appearances are against her, if I 
 may judge by the attention she is bestowing on 
 his fulsome addresses." 
 
 " No doubt," she replied, " Mary is very 
 much taken with him, and I believe thinks him 
 the handsomest and most agreeable man she 
 has ever known. — Yet " and she paused. 
 
 " Well," asked Harry, " what yet ?" 
 
 *' She is not certainly yet seriously in love 
 with him." 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that ? " enquired 
 Henry, anxiously. 
 
94 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Not quite, Mr. Howard, although very 
 nearly so." 
 
 " Would to Heaven I could think the same," 
 added Harry, impressively. 
 
 " And why so, Mr. Howard, may I ask?" 
 
 " Because, Miss Dundonald, God forbid that 
 pure-minded sweet girl should ever become the 
 wife of such an unprincipled fellow as Robert 
 Howard. Were she my sister, and would that 
 I could call her by that name, I would rather see 
 her in her grave than married to such a man, 
 although my own cousin." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Howard ! are you serious in 
 what you say, or prejudiced?" 
 
 " I am truly serious, Miss Dundonald, and 
 not prejudiced. His real character has been 
 known to me from boyhood's earliest years, and 
 woe betide the woman he marries." 
 
 At this moment they were interrupted by the 
 two subjects of their discourse approaching 
 where they were sitting. 
 
 " Ah I " exclaimed Robert, " Miss Dundonald, 
 the very person we were looking for. Come, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 95 
 
 there's a good creature, to the piano, and play 
 us the new set of quadrilles : we are going to 
 have a dance on the carpet — Mrs. Selwyn has 
 given her consent. Oh ! but I forget, I should 
 have asked Mr. Henry Howard's approval also, 
 as 1 am doubtfiil whether he considers dancing 
 in his category of sinful acts or not — being in_ 
 tended for the church, he pretends to great sanc- 
 timoniousness of character and deportment, and 
 we sinful creatures, who dance, and laugh, and 
 sing, are in his opinion doomed to perdition. 
 At Oxford he was called the young saint, but 
 as young saints very often make old sinners, 
 and vice versa, I prefer enjoying life whilst it 
 is enjoyable ; it will be time enough to turn 
 saint when I have had my run of fun and 
 frolic." 
 
 " But suppose," said Harry, " that time 
 should never come." 
 
 "Ah, well," said Robert, "even so, I shall 
 have done only what half the world has done 
 before my time." 
 
 " Very true," said Harry, " verifying Solo- 
 
96 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 mon's words — ' Folly is joy to him who is des- 
 titute of wisdom.' " 
 
 " Solomon, indeed ! " exclaimed Robert, " the 
 greatest sinner and veriest old humbug that 
 ever existed — a canting hypocrite, talking about 
 religion and morality. There was an example 
 of a young saint turned into an old sinner, with 
 a vengeance ; why, he beats the Sultan of Tur- 
 key into fits, hah! hah! hah!" laughed Ro- 
 bert. "That's the way with all you canting, 
 preaching, methodistical hypocrites." 
 
 " And yet," said Henry, " remember Solo- 
 mon's confession, after the full experience of all 
 worldly pleasures ; ' Vanity of vanity, all is 
 vanity ;' and he adds, ' If a man live many years, 
 and rejoice in them all, yet let him remember 
 the days of darkness, for they shall be many.' " 
 
 '* There, that's preaching enough for one 
 night, Master Harry, keep the rest for Sunday. 
 And now. Miss Dundonald, let us have a quad- 
 rille, instead of a psalm tune." 
 
 Miss Maitland laughed at Robert's raillery — 
 Miss Dundonald looked grave ; but Harry How- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 97 
 
 ard, with a smile of contempt on his lip, rose, 
 and approaching Miss Maitland, said, " I hope 
 you will give me an opportunity of proving, that 
 I am not quite such an ascetic as my cousin 
 represents me, by allowing me the pleasure of 
 being your partner in the next dance." 
 
 " Oh, no, that won't do. Master Harry," in- 
 terposed Robert — " Miss Maitland is engaged to 
 me." 
 
 " Not for the whole evening, I conclude," 
 replied he, calmly ; " but I did not ask your 
 permission, Mr. Robert, and shall only take a 
 refusal from Miss Maitland's own lips." 
 
 " As I have got up the dance," said Robert, 
 " I certainly consider Miss Maitland engaged to 
 me, as long as the dancing continues, which may 
 perhaps be only for two quadrilles." 
 
 " That is contrary to usual custom," said 
 Harry, " and therefore my claim is as good as 
 yours; but I shall bow to Miss Maitland's 
 decision, whatever that may be." 
 
 " I scarcely know what to do," said Miss 
 Maitland, fearing a rupture between the cousins, 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 * but if there are more than two quadrilles, I 
 shall be happy to dance with you the third." 
 
 Harry made her a low bow, and walked away 
 to another part of the room, where he met with 
 better success from a Miss Parker, a hvely girl 
 of Miss Maitland's own age ; and they ^were 
 soon standing vis-a-vis to Robert and his part- 
 ner. Harry, piqued and annoyed, made himself 
 as agreeable as possible, and his cheerful good 
 humour did not pass unnoticed by Miss Mait- 
 land. After the second quadrille, Harry, seeing 
 Lucy Dundonald had left the piano, asked her 
 hand for the next dance. 
 
 " Oh, but I heard Mary say she would accept 
 you for the third," replied Lucy. 
 
 " Extorted favours are not very compliment- 
 ary," rejoined Harry ; " and I am well aware 
 Miss Maitland would prefer dancing the w'hole 
 evening with my cousin, in preference to such a 
 canting, methodistical fellow as myself." 
 
 " 1 think not, Mr. Howard ; she feared being 
 made the innocent cause of a rupture between 
 you, and therefore acted accordingly." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 99 
 
 " By deciding, two to one against me ; a very 
 considerate and impartial judgemnt indeed/* 
 added Harry, with a look of proud disdain. 
 
 " Yet I think you should claim the fulfilment 
 of her engagement," replied Lucy. 
 
 " Not if you win accept me ; for she is still 
 hanging on Robert's arm, and evidently avoid- 
 ing this side of the room. So come, let us join 
 the set ; for see, Robert and his partner have 
 just taken their places, therefore my conclusion 
 is the right one." 
 
 As Harry crossed over in the dance. Miss 
 Maitland said, " I thought you were engaged to 
 me for this quadrille." 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " such I believe was the 
 case ; but observing your decided preference for 
 my cousin, and evident reluctance to quit his 
 arm, I could not be so cruel as to deprive you 
 of his charming and instructive conversation, 
 even for the short period of a quadrille." 
 
 Mary blushed deeply at this rebuke, but made 
 no reply. 
 
 The party soon after broke up, and none but 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 the visitors remaining, the company who had 
 left were freely canvassed by them, over the 
 wine and water which was brought in before 
 they retired to their rooms. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn remarked, that the young How- 
 ards had now become the most handsome and 
 agreeable men he had ever met with. 
 
 " As to Robert," said Mrs. Selwyn, " he is 
 really a perfect Adonis — I never saw any one so 
 really handsome — too beautiful for a man — and 
 he is so very agreeable and entertaining. Don't 
 you think so, my dears ? " turning to her 
 daughter and Lucy. 
 
 A ready assent was given by both the young 
 ladies ; but the colour mounted to Mary's brow, 
 which was not unobserved by her friend. 
 
 " Well," said Lady Dundonald, " as you have 
 given your opinions, I shall now give mine. 
 Mr. Robert Howard is undeniably good-looking, 
 and very captivating in his manners ; but Mr. 
 Henry Howard is of a more manly character, 
 and, depend upon it, will turn out the hand- 
 somer man of the two." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 101 
 
 No exception was taken to this judgment ; 
 and Lucy added, " I think, mamma, your opi- 
 nion will be confirmed." 
 
 As Lady Barnard and her family had not yet 
 returned to the gay city of Bath (where they 
 generally resided during the winter season), 
 Robert resolved to employ his leisure hours in 
 making a conquest of Miss Maitland, if only for 
 the pleasure of annoying his cousin, whom he 
 suspected of being in love with her. His visits 
 to Elm Grove were very frequent, and he often 
 dined there twice in the week, besides riding 
 with Mary and her father, and spending the 
 whole day nearly in her society. 
 
 Harry Howard kept aloof, knowing Robert's 
 superiority of person and address, and observing 
 the pleasure with which he was always received ; 
 and it must be confessed, that this artless girl's 
 heart was imperceptibly yielding to Robert's 
 fascinating and unremitting attentions, when an 
 occurrence happened which opened her eyes to 
 her admirer's utter want of proper feeling, and 
 turned her admiration almost into disgust. 
 
102 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Intelligence arrived of the sudden death of Mary's 
 well- beloved cousin, Stewart Maitland, who had 
 ever been to her as a dear brother, and to whom, 
 being many years her senior, she had been in- 
 debted for much good advice and instruction 
 since childhood. Robert happened to call a few 
 days afterwards, and found Mary lamenting her 
 untimely bereavement of one so deservedly 
 beloved. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed he, entering the room, 
 " in mourning and tears, Miss Maitland ? Oh ! 
 pray tell me what has occasioned this sudden 
 transition to lamentation, mourning, and woe." 
 
 " Have you not heard," she asked, " of my 
 dear cousin Stewart's unexpected and lamented 
 death?" 
 
 " No," he said, " I have not ; but he was 
 only a cousin, you say, and to my mind, cousins 
 are the most disagreeable relations in the world. 
 I wish to heaven all mine were dead, and buried 
 too. Come," he said, approaching her, to take 
 her hand (which she as hastily withdrew), " I 
 cannot bear to see those beautiful eyes red with 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 103 
 
 weeping ; it is indeed very unbecoming ; and 
 tears and mourning are my abomination." 
 
 Without deigning a reply, Mary rose from 
 her chair, and darting out of the room, sought 
 her own chamber, where she gave vent to a 
 fresh flood of tears, at her lover's heartless con- 
 duct in her distress. 
 
 ".Oh!" she exclaimed, "what a contrast to 
 my kind, w^arm-hearted cousin — and could he 
 talk so lightly of your death, my poor, lost 
 Stewart ? How could I fancy I loved such a 
 man as this ? Love him," she repeated, " oh, 
 no, it is fascination only. I do not, cannot 
 ever love such a character as his. I see him 
 now in his true light — heartless, frivolous, and 
 selfish, as Lucy always said he was." 
 
 The day following, Harry having heard of 
 the loss sustained by the family at Elm Grove, 
 deemed it a mere act of neighbourly attention 
 to caU and express his sympathy in their be- 
 reavement. Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn being occu- 
 pied (as was their usual custom before luncheon) 
 in their morning»room, Harry was shewn into 
 
104 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 the drawing-room, where he found Mary Mait- 
 land alone. She rose on his entrance, looking 
 pale, and with the traces of tears still visible 
 in her eyes, held out her hand, which was 
 warnaly grasped by Harry, who said, " I am 
 indeed distressed to hear of your sudden loss, 
 and only wish it were in my power to im- 
 part some little consolation in your present 
 affliction." 
 
 The tone and look with which these words 
 were uttered caused her tears to flow afresh, 
 and she replied — 
 
 " I fear you will think me very foolish to give 
 way thus ; but, indeed, I cannot help it. My 
 poor Stewart was everything to me — cousin, 
 friend and brother, and with him I have lost the 
 only true friend I ever possessed, besides my own 
 dear mother." 
 
 " Heaven forbid, I should think you foolish, 
 for mourning one so good and dear to you 1" 
 replied Harry ; " indeed, indeed. I do feel for 
 you, God knows how sincerely." And the tears 
 started to his eyes, at witnessing the deep grief 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 105 
 
 of the fair girl, who could not suppress her sobs 
 at this unexpected sympathy, from one she had 
 thought so little of. 
 
 " Oh !" she exclaimed, rising, " it is very 
 wrong, my giving way thus, before you, Mr* 
 Howard, almost a stranger ; but there was 
 something in your voice and manner, which 
 reminded me so of dear Stewart. I must 
 now leave you, for I am quite unfit for com- 
 pany," 
 
 " Do not go yet," said Harry, gently taking 
 her hand. " Oh, do not apply the term stranger 
 to one who feels deeply for your distress. Let 
 me supply the place, though unworthily, of him 
 you have lost, and look on Harry Howard as a 
 friend and brother ; for such from this day he 
 will be to you, if you will accept his poor, but 
 sincere services, to watch over and protect you 
 with a brother's care. To no higher title do 
 I aspire. Let me be your brother and 
 friend." 
 
 Mary was quite overcome by this fervent and 
 truth-telling appeal 
 
106 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 " Your kindness of heart, and many excellent 
 qualities, are well known to me, Mr. Howard, 
 and I should indeed be happy could 1 call you 
 brother." 
 
 " Then," replied Harry, " from henceforth I 
 will endeavour to prove myself deserving your 
 confidence and regard ; so now you must comply 
 with my first brotherly desire, to put on your 
 bonnet, and take a turn on the lawn. The air 
 will revive you." 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, " I think I had better go 
 to my room." 
 
 " No, no," said Harry ; " you will not surely 
 refuse the first request of your new relative ; 
 he knows what is good for you — so pray 
 come.*' 
 
 A few minutes after, Harry and Mary were 
 walking side by side, through the garden, and 
 after an hour's ramble the spirits of his newly- 
 adopted sister seemed to revive, and her utter 
 desolation of thought gave way to his soothing 
 influence; she listened to the calm, religious 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 107 
 
 sentiments of her warm-hearted, sympathizing 
 companion, and mentally exclaimed — 
 
 " I have, indeed, found a brother and com- 
 forter, in my affliction !" 
 
 From that day Harry Howard was no longer 
 a stranger at Elm Grove, and Robert soon per- 
 ceived an alteration in Mary anything but con- 
 firmatory of the conquest he plumed himself on 
 having achieved, over this young and sweet 
 girl's affections. 
 
 " Ah," thought Robert, " I see how this has 
 happened ; that canting fellow Harry has taken 
 advantage of her sorrow, to pour consolation 
 into her heart, and has for the present gained 
 some influence over her : but the time of 
 mourning will soon be ended, and then I'll 
 pay him oif for his confounded meddling." 
 
 Harry had gained, however, so much ground, 
 and was still gaining more every day in Miss 
 Maitland's esteem, that a comparison between 
 his frank and manly sentiments, and those of 
 his more frivolous though handsomer cousin, 
 
108 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 was all in favour of the former, who was 
 making that impression on her heart, which 
 she had never before experienced towards any 
 other man. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 109 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 At the time when this tale commences, the 
 gay city of Bath was the general resort of many 
 families of distinction during the w^inter season, 
 and thither Lord Barnard and his family repaired, 
 as well as Robert and Harry Howard, for a few 
 weeks' recreation. Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn also 
 had a house there, which may account for Harry's 
 presence, as he was most anxious to witness their 
 fair daughter's introduction to the gay world, 
 intending, with his romantic and chivalrous 
 feelings, to watch over and protect her with a 
 brother's care. 
 
 Mary Maitland, although so young, had al- 
 ready received the homage due to her beauty 
 
110 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 and sweet disposition. She had at that time 
 several admirers, one of whom, slightly known 
 to Harry, had resolved to obtain her hand at any 
 cost, making no secret of his intentions ! Mr. 
 Macneil was a great friend of Mr. Selwyn's 
 son, and had procured through his means an 
 introduction, and, with his assistance and pro- 
 mises of support, resolved to carry off the prize. 
 Harry, disliking this man's principles, and seeing 
 this young girl thrown so much into his power, 
 was equally resolved, at all hazards, to save her 
 from his machinations. With knight-errant 
 chivalry he therefore determined to broach this 
 subject to Miss Maitland (although a most de- 
 licate one), and ascertain her real feelings towards 
 Mr. Macneil. Marry him, he was determined 
 she should not ; although, it must be confessed, 
 he had then no idea of marrying her himself, 
 nor did his feelings at that time towards her 
 tend in that direction. 
 
 An opportunity soon presented itself. On 
 riding over to make a morning call at Elm 
 Grove, Harry met Mr. Macneil returning from 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. Ill 
 
 the house. The usual salutations passed, but 
 Harry's quick eye detected a gloomy look in his 
 opponent's face, which augured well for his be- 
 ginning. Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn were gone out 
 for a drive, and, to Harry's great delight, he 
 found the young lady only at home. As a 
 neighbour, and being on very friendly terms 
 with the family, he gave his horse to the servant, 
 and was ushered into the drawing-room. Upon 
 entering he offered his hand, and hoped he 
 might claim the privilege of a friend, for in- 
 truding himself on her presence, in Mr. and 
 Mrs. Selwyn's absence. 
 
 " Oh," replied Miss Maitland, in her usual 
 sweet tones, '* you are always welcome, Mr. 
 Howard, and I can only regret papa and mamma 
 are not here to receive you." 
 
 " That's more than / do,^ thought Harry ; 
 but she added — 
 
 " I expect their return very soon." 
 
 " That's a bore again," thought Harry, '* and 
 I have no time to lose." 
 
 Well, how to set about divulging the object 
 
112 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 of his visit, Harry was just now puzzling his 
 brain, and he experienced the usual difference 
 between resolutions and actions. 
 
 It was a most delicate affair, and Harry be- 
 came spell-bound when in the presence of this 
 beautiful girl, in whose welfare he had taken so 
 deep an interest. Miss Maitland remarked his 
 unusually absent manner, and hoped nothing 
 unpleasant had occurred. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons. Miss Maitland, 
 for my rudeness ; but, to speak the truth (and 
 you know you once told me, I was always to be 
 candid with you), my amiable temper has been 
 considerably rufSed this morning by meeting a 
 gentleman, coming out of your lodge gates, who 
 does not happen to be very agreeable to me, and 
 the look he gave me was rather of the cut-throat 
 order." 
 
 A slight blush overspread Miss Maitland's 
 fair brow as she replied — " You mean Mr. 
 Macneil, I suppose, who called here this morn- 
 ing ; but as papa and mamma were not at home, 
 he was not admitted.'* 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 113 
 
 Harry breathed again, but said quickly — 
 
 " Did he not ask to see you ?" 
 
 She cast on Harry one of her soft and sunny 
 smiles, and archly replied — 
 
 " Why do you ask that question, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 " From no idle curiosity, believe me, Miss 
 Maitland; but I am presuming too much, I 
 fear, on the privilege of a friend, who takes a 
 deep interest in your happiness." 
 
 Harry, in his chivalrous mood, had overshot 
 the mark again, as he thought. No words or 
 look of displeasure, however, proceeded from the 
 fair girl before him. She said, without hesita- 
 tion — 
 
 " I am much obliged by your professions of 
 friendship towards me, and with equal candour 
 will tell you that Mr. Macneil was not admitted 
 here this morning, because I did not desire to 
 see him in my mother's absence." 
 
 "Is he on general visiting terms, then, at 
 your house?" 
 
 " We see him occasionally, as he is a great 
 friend of George's." 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " And a great friend of yours, also perhaps ?" 
 
 " I am not aware, Mr. Howard," replied Miss 
 Maitland, rather offended, " that such is a na- 
 tural consequence." 
 
 " Oh, no, not always ; but it does happen so, 
 in many cases, and I began to fear this might 
 prove no exception ; at least, so says the world." 
 
 " What do you mean, Mr. Howard — what 
 does the world say?" 
 
 " Miss Maitland," replied Harry, in a gentle, 
 though now serious tone of voice, " I feel I 
 have gone either too far or not far enough ; I 
 will therefore candidly explain myself You 
 said, some time ago, I might consider you in 
 the light of a friend, and that you would be 
 glad at any time of my advice, if I thought you 
 required it. I do, and have long looked upon 
 you as a sister, who, about to enter now on the 
 shifting scenes of life, may need perhaps a bro- 
 ther's arm to protect her from insult or harm. 
 That brother. Miss Maitland, if you will accept 
 his poor but honest services, you shall ever find 
 in Harry Howard." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 115 
 
 This was uttered with such pathos and feel- 
 ing, that Miss Maitland was sensibly afifected, 
 and she answered, " I do, indeed, thank you 
 most sincerely, Mr. Howard, for your kindness, 
 and know full well I shall need the advice of 
 such a friend as you, now my poor cousin is 
 gone ; but I hope you will never be embroiled 
 in any unpleasantry on my account. That 
 time, at least, will 1 trust be very far distant/' 
 
 She was startled by an unusual solemnity in 
 Harry's voice, as he replied, " That time is 
 already come." 
 
 Turning pale as death, she faintly asked, 
 " Mr. Howard, what can you mean ?" 
 
 " One word only will suffice ; tell me in truth 
 and sincerity, as you would have confided in 
 your poor cousin if alive, is Mr. Macneil more 
 to you than a common acquaintance, or can you 
 ever regard him in any other light ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, he can never be anything more 
 to me." 
 
 '* Enough, Miss Maitland, leave the rest to 
 my discretion; and now good bye, as I hear 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 carriage-wheels approaching. Keep up your 
 spirits ; at our next meeting all shall be ex- 
 plained." 
 
 Saying which, Harry hurriedly took his leave, 
 and was off like a shot, full gallop on his re- 
 turn home. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 117 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 We must now go back a little, to see the 
 cause of HaiTy's visit to Elm Grove. 
 
 Mr. Macneil was, as we have said before, an 
 old friend of George Selwyn's, who openly en- 
 couraged his attentions, and secretly connived at 
 his intentions towards his sister-in-law. Mac- 
 neil was a fine, tall, rather good-looking man 
 of about five-and-twenty — of no profession, and 
 of no great prospects of advancement in life ; 
 and knowing Miss Maitland would inherit con- 
 siderable property, he had resolved, in conjunc- 
 tion with his ally, George Selwyn, to marry 
 her. He was sufficiently a man of the world 
 
118 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 to have discovered that a young girl is generally 
 taken with the man who first pays her marked 
 and flattering attention, and he trusted to his 
 fine person to do the rest. We must, however, 
 do him the common justice to say, that this 
 beautiful girl had inspired him with deep feel- 
 ings of love or passion, which we will not at 
 present too minutely criticise. 
 
 Mr. Macneil had been playing this game for 
 months, during Harry's absence at Oxford, 
 and as his sister and Miss Maitland had also 
 become acquainted, Macneil, with a considera- 
 ble share of vanity, made sure he had gained 
 now a sufficient influence over Miss Mait- 
 land to induce her at no very distant day to 
 become his wife. Beyond this, Mr, Macneil 
 and his worthy coadjutor had resolved, if re- 
 quisite, to carry her off by stratagem or force, 
 George Selwyn undertaking to obtain his fa- 
 ther's forgiveness after the thing had been ac- 
 complished. 
 
 It is not matter therefore of surprize that the 
 visits of Harry Howard to Elm Grove caused 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 119 
 
 some uneasiness to Mr. Macneil's mind. Miss 
 Maitland, as most young girls are, might have 
 been at first flattered by his attentions, but her 
 affections were not engaged, and her heart still 
 remained in her own keeping. This Macneil 
 could not bring himself to believe ; marry her 
 he declared he would ; and openly asserted, that 
 she not only corresponded with him, but was 
 already engaged also. 
 
 A friend of Harry's had a few days previously 
 spoken to him on this subject, as a matter of 
 course, which nettled him not a little, and he 
 resolved, as we have seen, to ascertain the truth 
 from Miss Maitland's own lips. Macneil was 
 no favourite ; being a coarse, bullying sort of 
 fellow, a character disliked by Harry ; and be 
 felt assured this young girl's happiness would 
 be wrecked for ever if united to such a person. 
 After Harry's interview with the young lady, he 
 sought the friend who had communicated this 
 information, without delay. 
 
 " You informed me the other day," said 
 Harry, " that our neighbour's daughter was 
 
120 THE SaUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 engaged to be married to Mr. Macneil ; pray 
 may I ask your authority for this news ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; it's no secret — Macneil 
 himself told me, and boasts of it publicly in the 
 city and the field." 
 
 " Does he ?" replied Harry, bursting with just 
 indignation ; " then tell him and every one else 
 from me, that it is false." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! Master Harry, sits the wind in 
 that quarter ? Then you are, I conclude, to be 
 the happy man ?" 
 
 " Your conclusion, sir, is as far wrong as 
 your information." 
 
 " Well, my good fellow," said his friend, 
 " you appear to be in a towering passion about 
 this affair ; what business can it be of yours ? 
 You are not a relation — she has a father-in-law 
 and brother ; and unless you are actually in love 
 with her yourself, surely you have no good title 
 to interfere." 
 
 "Well," replied Harry, "there is certainly 
 some sense in your observations, but just for a 
 few moments listen to mine. Miss Maitland 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 121 
 
 has a fa.ther-{n-law, it is quite true, and also a • 
 brother-m-/ai^ ; the former is much too old, 
 and the latter too interested, to take up weapons 
 in her defence ; in fact, I have it from the best 
 source, that the worthy Mr. George has handed 
 over all his authority in the case to his dear 
 friend and ally, Mr. Macneil ; and in short, 
 John Power, this artless, unsuspecting girl, is 
 to be made the victim of these deep scoundrels. 
 If she refuses to marry this said Macneil, her 
 character on her first appearance in public wall 
 be blighted, as one who has broken her faith 
 and pledged engagement." 
 
 " Confound their villanous schemes !" ex- 
 claimed John Power ; " this is a serious affair 
 indeed, and such a sweet girl must be saved 
 from their clutches if possible. But what's to be 
 done, Harry ? — you may depend upon my assist- 
 ance in such a case as this. But, steady, my 
 boy, haste won't do here ; that Macneil is a big, 
 blustering fellow, and could thrash two such as 
 you are." 
 
 " Could he, by Jove !" cried Harry ; " only let 
 
122 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 him try, and I think he'll find one at a time 
 quite enough for him. His body may be large, 
 but his heart is small enough, I'll engage, for 
 bullies are ever cowards." 
 
 " Well, but Harry, what do you intend 
 doing?" 
 
 " Protect that girl I will, and make this big, 
 blustering fellow eat his own words, or my 
 name is not Harry Howard." 
 
 " Sooner said than done, Harry ; however, 
 as the old saying says, ' In for a penny in for a 
 pound.* If you are resolved to act in this man- 
 ner, you may reckon on John Power as your 
 friend." 
 
 *' Thank you, John, with all my heart ; so 
 now to business. Will you ride with me into 
 the gay city, where I dare say we shall find 
 Macneil as usual sauntering up and down Mil- 
 som Street, the general resort of idle men, and 
 then, John, I shall have a word or two to say to 
 him." 
 
 " Avoid publicity in such a delicate case as 
 this, Harry." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 123 
 
 "So I would, mllingly'; but as he has so 
 publicly announced and blazoned about his pre- 
 tended engagement to Miss Maitland, he shall 
 as publicly retract it, or I will use my best en- 
 deavours to make him do so." 
 
 John Power, being of a cautious disposition, 
 endeavoured, but in vain, to dissuade Harry 
 from his purpose. He therefore resolved to 
 assist him out of the scrape as well as he could. 
 The two friends, having mounted their horses, 
 rode off into Bath. Having put them up, they 
 walked into Milsom Street, where they soon 
 found, as expected, Mr. Macneil lounging up 
 and down, with a couple of friends, one on 
 either side. 
 
 " Now, Harry," said John Power, " keep 
 yourself cool, and don't forget that you are a 
 gentleman w^hatever Macneil may be." 
 
 " Never fear me, John ; I will endeavour to 
 be as cool as a cucumber." 
 
 Being soon confronted with Mr. Macneil and 
 his party, and the usual greetings having passed, 
 Harry thus quietly addressed his opponent : — 
 
124 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 "I have been told, Mr. Macneil, that you 
 have taken the great liberty of stating publicly 
 in this place as well as in others, that you are 
 engaged to be married to a young lady, who is 
 both a neighbour and friend of mine ; and I 
 take this opportunity of asking you whether the 
 information I have received is correct ? " 
 
 Macneil turned red and white by turns, and 
 his lips quivered with passion, as he haughtily 
 replied, " And pray, Mr. Harry Howard, may I 
 ask what right or authority you can have to 
 address such an impertinent question to me?" 
 
 " If there is any impertinence in the matter," 
 retorted Harry, with a strong emphasis on the 
 word, " it belongs solely to yourself. My 
 question was a proper and a pertinent one, and, 
 as the friend of this young lady, I demand an 
 answer." 
 
 " You demand an answer !" cried Macneil, 
 livid with rage. 
 
 " Yes," coolly replied Harry ; *' and I shall 
 have one, or you, Mr. Macneil, must take the 
 consequences." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 125 
 
 " And what are these mighty consequences 
 likely to be ?" 
 
 "This is the consequence I meant: I tell 
 you here publicly, that the report you have 
 spread about your engagement with Miss Mait- 
 land is entirely without foundation, and you 
 know it is ; and beyond this, I beg to tell you, 
 that if you dare to take any further liberties 
 with this young girl's name, I will call you to 
 account for it, Mr. Macneil : that's all I have to 
 say at present." 
 
 " And enough too, by the powers !" exclaimed 
 an Irish friend of Macneil's ; " it's just as pretty 
 a little beginning to a small shooting-party, as I 
 could wish to see." 
 
 This last remark did not at all suit Mr. Mac- 
 neil's taste, who had a great aversion to the 
 smell of powder, and he turned away, saying — 
 " You shall hear from me soon, Mr. How- 
 ard." 
 
 " The sooner the better," replied Harry ; " I 
 shall not leave Bath until to-morrow at twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
126 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Well, Macneil," said his Irish friend, " that's 
 as smart a young cockerel as I have met with 
 many a day ; but there's not much of him for a 
 target to shoot at, and it's ten to one you don't 
 wing him. You must stand sideways, Macneil, 
 for your big carcass will be sadly in the way. 
 Is he a tolerable hand with the trigger ?" 
 
 " As for that and other games of the sort," 
 chimed in their other companion, " young Harry 
 is well know^n as a daring rider, good shot, and 
 not a bad fighter ; so I think we had better try 
 and hush this matter up, as Macneil has no 
 chance at tw^elve paces." 
 
 Macneii's more prudent friend was therefore 
 commissioned to see John Power, and try to 
 setttle this unpleasant affair in a quiet way ; the 
 former asserting that Macneil had received let- 
 ters fi:om the young lady, which warranted him 
 in his statement. John Power insisted on their 
 production, when it turned out they w^ere only 
 common-place correspondence between Macneii's 
 sister and Miss Maitland, which amounted to 
 nothing ; and Mr. Macneil was obliged at last. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 127 
 
 with a very bad grace, to withdraw his big w^ords ; 
 and the bully soon after disappeared from the 
 gay city. 
 
 So much for Harry's first feat of knight- 
 errantry in defence of distressed damsels. Whe- 
 ther he would have acted in the same manner 
 towards every young lady in like circumstances 
 does not at present appear quite conclusive, 
 although the supposition is decidedly in his 
 favour ; his hand was always going with his 
 heart, which happened to be a most benevolent 
 though impulsive one. — The day following 
 Harry was on his way to Elm Grove, and 
 arrived there about one o'clock. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Seiwyn were at home, and he was invited to 
 take luncheon, which he did, having found that 
 the carriage was ordered as usual at two, and 
 hoping that the young lady might not be of the 
 party. Guessing Harry had something to com- 
 municate for her ear alone, she pleaded some ex- 
 cuse for remaining at home, and Harry had the 
 pleasure of handing her mamma into the car- 
 riage, and for his politeness was rewarded with 
 
128 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 an invitation to dine with them the same even- 
 ing ; which he gladly accepted, saying he would 
 ride home, and return at the appointed hour. 
 He had of course left his riding-whip in the 
 hall, for which he must return, and from the 
 hall he soon found his way into the drawing- 
 room again, where he enjoyed a most interesting 
 tete-a-tete conference with his adopted sister. 
 As far as was necessary, Harry gave her an 
 explanation of his interview with Mr. Macneil, 
 and also informed her that a deep scheme had 
 been laid by that worthy and her brother-in-law 
 to carry her off by force, should she not have 
 consented to accept his hand, but he assured 
 her she might now feel quite at ease, as Mr. 
 Macneil had shown the white feather, and re- 
 tracted all he had said to her disparagement. 
 
 The poor girl was deeply affected by Harry's 
 recital, but expressed her dread of Mr. Mac- 
 neil's and her brother-in-law's resentment. 
 
 " Never fear them, my dear Miss Maitland ; 
 Harry Howard is more than a match for two 
 such cowardly curs as they are, and they shall 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 129 
 
 have his life-blood before they shall injure you ; 
 but do not for a moment trouble yourself about 
 them ; their plans are detected and exposed, and 
 I will narrowly watch their movements for the 
 future." 
 
 *' And how/' replied Miss Maitland, " can I 
 ever repay you for your generous conduct to- 
 wards me ?" 
 
 " By remaining the same sweet, artless girl 
 you are now/' added Harry ; " and heaven 
 forbid you should ever become a Bath flirt !" 
 
 " Of that/' she said, " I hope there is no 
 fear/' 
 
 " Then I shall be amply rewarded/' 
 
 Recollecting that he had some engagement 
 that afternoon, he took his leave, promising to 
 return at the dinner-hour. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It may be thought by the generality of my 
 readers, that there could be little difficulty in 
 defining the feelings of these two young persons 
 towards each other ; in fact, that they were 
 really in love ; and yet in truth such was not the 
 case. That the seeds of mutual affection were 
 then sown, w^e admit, which in after-years ripened 
 into a firm and lasting attachment ; but at the 
 time we are writing of, pure friendship was the 
 only bond of union which linked these two 
 young hearts together. Harry being intended 
 for the law or the church, well knew he could 
 not at so early an age form any matrimonial 
 alliance, neither would his inclination have 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 131 
 
 prompted him to have engaged her affections 
 thus early; debarring her, when just entering 
 life, from forming, perhaps, a more eligible con- 
 nection. Such were Harry's ideas at the time; but 
 it must be confessed, that they were both placing 
 themselves on very dangerous ground by these 
 frequent meetings and friendly intercourse. The 
 world judges by appearances only, and Harry's 
 visits to Elm Grove were attributed only to one 
 cause. His chivalrous defence also of the young 
 lady was immediately noised abroad, and a 
 match of course proclaimed as the certain con- 
 sequence. All this was reported to Harry by 
 his friend, John Power ; and his resolution was 
 taken, as soon as Macneil should be entirely 
 off the ground, to pay a visit for a short time 
 to a friend in a distant part of the country, John 
 Power engaging to give him the earliest in- 
 formation, should that worthy return during his 
 absence. 
 
 The anticipated pleasure of the next dinner- 
 party at Elm Grove was considerably damped by 
 this information of Powei*, and Harry became 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 certainly not a very entertaining guest on this 
 occasion. He was silent and absent, and his 
 behaviour could not escape the observation of 
 Miss Maitland, who indulged all kinds of fanci- 
 ful surmises as to the cause of it. On the 
 return of the gentlemen to the drawing-room, 
 Harry had, by the aid of an extra glass or two 
 of wine, become almost as cheerful as usual ; 
 but a woman's fears or suspicions, when once 
 fairly roused, are not easily allayed. Miss Mait- 
 land could not suppress her anxiety ; and when 
 Harry joined her, she timidly inquired if anything 
 unpleasant had since happened, as his spirits 
 appeared so low during dinner. 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing at all," replied Harry ; " I 
 got into a brown study, which I ought to have 
 been ashamed of exhibiting in the presence of 
 ladies ; but the fit is quite over, I assure you." 
 
 " Mr. Howard," she said, '* I fear you are not 
 now treating me with your usual candour ; some- 
 thing has annoyed you, I can see, and I dread 
 some fresh trouble. Pray do not deceive me, 
 for 1 can bear anything but uncertainty, but I 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 133 
 
 cannot allow you to run any further risk on 
 my account. Papa must and ought to inter- 
 fere." 
 
 " On my word of honour," replied Harry, 
 " nothing further has occurred of the kind you 
 dread." 
 
 " What, then, is the matter ? You are not 
 yourself this evening." 
 
 " Am I, then, to divulge all my inward feel- 
 ings, and treat you as my lady confessor ?" 
 archly inquired Harry, which caused a slight 
 blush to rise on Mary's fair brow. 
 
 " Oh, no, not always — only now — this once 
 only do I ask you to be candid wuth me." 
 
 *' Well, then," replied Harry, " so be it, for I 
 perceive your suspicions are not yet removed. 
 The cause of my silence at dinner was, that I 
 was thinking of a visit I had promised a friend 
 in a distant part of the country, and I was 
 doubting whether a fair friend of mine at Elm 
 Grove would feel gratified or not at my de- 
 parture." 
 
 Mary's sweet features were for a moment 
 
134 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 clouded over ; quickly, however, recovering her 
 self-possession, she asked — 
 
 " And is this really all, Mr. Howard ?'* 
 
 " On my faith as a true knight, yes ; but," 
 murmured Harry, "it is quite enough for 
 me." 
 
 Finding this would not do any longer, he 
 said, " I must now wish you good night, having 
 all my preparations to make for to-morrow," 
 and taking her hand in his own, whispered in a 
 low voice — " May Heaven watch over and pro- 
 tect my sweet sister until Harry returns ;" and 
 wishing Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn a hasty " good 
 night," was gone from the room before Mary 
 could recover from her surprise at his abrupt 
 departure. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn could not help exclaiming on 
 Harry's leave-taking — 
 
 " What can be the matter with Mr. Howard 
 this evening ? — He is so unlike himself, there 
 must be something amiss, Mary." Turning to 
 her daughter, *' Can you explain it ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing particular I believe, mamma, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 135 
 
 only he is going from home early to-morrow 
 morning on a visit to a friend." 
 
 No more was said, but a faint suspicion 
 crossed the mind of old Mr. Selwyn, that Henry 
 Howard thought more deeply of his step- 
 daughter than he had hitherto given him credit 
 for. His parting and earnest words rung in 
 Mary's ears long after, and for the first time she 
 felt he was dearer to her than she had ever 
 before believed. 
 
 What was the nature of Harry's musings on 
 his four mile homeward ride ? The subject of 
 them might be easily imagined. 
 
 It was a wild and stormy night ; a strong 
 westerly wind, with drifting rain, beat hard in 
 his face as he galloped along ; but Harry heeded 
 it not ; his thoughts were too much occupied 
 with Mary Maitland. 
 
 " Oh, what a dear sweet girl that is !" he 
 murmured ; " so beautiful — so innocent — so 
 affectionate ! Thank God she has escaped that 
 villain's clutches ! But what next, Harry ? are 
 you not in love with her yourself? No, not 
 
136 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 that just yet. Could you see her married to 
 another without a sharp pang of the heart ?" 
 This question Harry could not answer very 
 satisfactorily at first. " Well, perhaps I could, 
 if she made choice of some honourable, upright 
 fellow, who could love and cherish her as I 
 would." 
 
 Still this idea was not an agreeable one ; it 
 jarred and grated on his feelings, and went all 
 against the grain. 
 
 *' Hang it !" exclaimed Harry, " this will never 
 do. I am not actually in love yet, but another 
 such an affair as Mr. Macneil's and my fate 
 and hers are sealed for weal or woe ; and why 
 not, Harry ? simply because I must not think 
 of marrying for some years to come, and it 
 would be utter selfishness to mar that girl's 
 prospects in life by a too early engagement to 
 myself. It won't do," said he aloud, with a 
 dig of his heel into his horse's side, " so there's 
 an end of the matter. I'll forget her " 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! ho !" screamed a voice, close to 
 his ear, as in derision of his last resolve. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 137 
 
 " And who and what are you ? " shouted 
 Harry. 
 
 " Why, who should I be ? Farmer Giles to 
 be sure ; and I thought you'd a knocked me 
 over, horse and all. Ah, Master Harry, what a 
 swinging jam in the leg you have a gie'd me, 
 surely." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, farmer, with all my 
 heart, and hope I have not seriously hurt 
 you." 
 
 " Why, dang it all ! I can't say yet, for I 
 bean't sure if I've got a leg in my boot or no. 
 Don't ye gallop so fast on dark nights. Squire, 
 along these narrow roads, with a stone wall on 
 both sides, where a man can't get out of the 
 way ; ride over gates and hedges as hard as 
 you like, but don't ye go at a Christian man 
 like a post and rails. Master Harry." 
 
 A certain tingling in the leg soon convinced 
 Farmer Giles he had no bones broken, but he 
 didn't forget his tilt with Harry for some time. 
 They parted good friends, however, for Harry 
 was an especial favourite with all the farmers of 
 
138 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 his neighbourhood, and with the lower orders 
 also. 
 
 The dreams of Harry that night were of the 
 same character as his ride home. He fell asleep 
 dreaming of Mary Maitland ; but another vision 
 soon appeared — a monster in the form of Mac- 
 neil, hissing and grinning and trying to bear 
 her fainting form from his arms ; and in a des- 
 perate one-handed encounter with this bugbear 
 he awoke. 
 
 Sleep was now out of the question, and he 
 therefore dressed himself and set out early on 
 his journey into Hampshire, to pay his long- 
 promised visit to his earliest and most attached 
 friend. 
 
 William Fowler was the eldest son of a gen- 
 tleman of large fortune. The family consisted 
 of three other sons and one daughter ; and a 
 more united and happy coterie of father, mother, 
 and children could not be found. William and 
 Henry had, from a similarity of tastes and dis- 
 position, become early friends, when at school, 
 and had also passed through their university 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 139 
 
 ordeal together, firmly bound to each other, by 
 that rare tie of true friendship whose bond was 
 only loosed by the hand of death. With this 
 truly amiable and closely-united family, Harry 
 always felt himself quite at home. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Fowler were patterns of true conjugal 
 love ; and although now far advanced in years, 
 with their children around, to whom they w^ere 
 also devotedly attached, they presented a picture 
 of domestic happiness rarely to be seen, and no 
 jarring elements here intervened to disturb the 
 harmony of this happy circle. 
 
 Miss Fowler was a person of most amiable 
 and affectionate disposition, and strongly at- 
 tached to her eldest brother William. Harry 
 passed a most agreeable month with his friend, 
 when one morning, at the breakfast-table, he 
 received a letter from John Power, which ran 
 thus : 
 
 *' My DEAR Harry, 
 
 " As your Fidus Achates I have kept 
 a sharp look out in a certain quarter, but Mac- 
 
140 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 neil has never shewn his face (since your de- 
 parture) in these parts. 
 
 *' There's poaching, however, going on, and a 
 worse rival at work no\v than that fellow 
 Macneil. Your cousin Robert I find pays 
 rather frequent visits to Elm Grove; and you 
 know his winning, flirting ways with women, 
 to say nothing of his confounded handsome 
 phiz, and that curly head of his, w^ith which 
 all the girls are so much taken. I met him 
 at a dinner party there last night, and the 
 attentions he was paying your fair friend were 
 most particular; and I must be candid enough 
 to tell you, they did not appear to be disagree- 
 able to herself, as she was laughing and chatting 
 with him the whole evening. 
 
 " Believe me, dear Harry, 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "John Power." 
 
 Upon reading this epistle, a dark cloud over- 
 spread Harry's features, which his friend ob- 
 serving, said, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 141 
 
 " I fear you have had some unpleasant news 
 this morning." 
 
 There were few secrets between them, and 
 Harry at once placed the letter in his friend's 
 hand. 
 
 '^ Well,'* said Fowler, when he had read it, 
 " I always suspected there was something more 
 than you chose to tell me about this pretty 
 neighbour of yours. In short, Harry, you are 
 in love with her." 
 
 " Not so, William, on my word, that I know, 
 at present. I view her in the light of a dear 
 sister, but I have not yet experienced any of 
 that passion men are said to feel towards wo- 
 men they wish to marry. Mine is a pure, 
 unselfish affection, which even an angel might 
 not blush to own. Passion forms no part 
 of it." 
 
 " Well, Harry, I believe your feelings are 
 now just as you describe them, for you can have 
 no object in deceiving me ; but, my dear fellow, 
 you are, I think deceiving yourself ; your 
 affection no doubt is pure and unselfish, but 
 
142 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Still it is Love. Now let us come to the point 
 at once, what objection is there to her marry- 
 ing Robert if she likes him ? He is handsome 
 fond of flirting, it is true (but a wife may cure 
 him of that propensity), of pleasing and fasci- 
 nating manners, good family connections, and 
 last, though by no means least in the opi- 
 nion of most young ladies, heir to a good for- 
 tune." 
 
 " That's a very fair description of him, as far 
 as it goes ; but from long experience I can add 
 a little more, which is equally true : he is with- 
 out any sound principles either of morality or 
 religion, selfish to a degree, vain and capricious; 
 and you may take my word for it, which w^e 
 perhaps may both see realized, the woman he 
 marries will be miserable. One word more ; he 
 has already gained the affections of a young 
 and beautiful girl, and has been received by the 
 family as an accepted suitor. Now, Fowler, 
 what say you ? " 
 
 "That he is an unprincipled scoundrel!" 
 
 " Very well ; then I must be off to-mor- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 143 
 
 row morning, and warn this dear girl of her 
 danger." 
 
 " And as surely get your own neck into the 
 noose as my name is Will Fowler — that's my 
 prediction, Harry ; and I'll bet you a five pound 
 note will be fulfilled, too, though not perhaps 
 just yet. It is a dangerous game playing at 
 friendship with a beautiful girl of sweet seventeen. 
 In sober seriousness, one word more I must add 
 before we dismiss this subject, and I know you 
 will not take offence at the advice offered by 
 your old schoolfellow and sincere friend ; for 
 your own sake and Miss Maitland's peace 
 of mind, pray be cautious how you act for 
 the future — you may perhaps gain her affec- 
 tions without intending it. What then ? you 
 would make both yourself and her miserable ! 
 If, therefore, you really cannot marry her, be 
 guarded and as distant in your manners as con- 
 sistent with mere neighbourly attentions." 
 
 " I will try to follow your good advice, 
 although I admit it will be rather a difficult 
 matter." 
 
144 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Here the subject dropped; but notwithstanding 
 his friend's pressing entreaties to remain a few 
 days longer, the next morning found Harry on 
 his homeward journey. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 145 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Harry reached home, weary in body, low in 
 spirits, and sick at heart. Power's information 
 about Miss Maitland's flirtation with Robert 
 vexed him sorely. " What ! " he mentally ex- 
 claimed, *' in one short month could she forget 
 all my advice, and realize the character I abhor ? 
 Yet perhaps it may not be true after all — I 
 must judge for myself ; " and like a prudent 
 general, before commencing an engagement, he 
 resolved to take a view of the enemy's camp. 
 
 On the following day, therefore, he paid a 
 visit to Robert, who soon confirmed his worst 
 suspicions, by relating, with his usual vanity 
 and not very strict adherence to truth, the 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 flirtation he boasted he had been carrvino: on for 
 the last month with Miss Maitland. Harry 
 being nettled at the liberty Robert was taking 
 with her name, questioned, with some anger, 
 the truth of such a story. 
 
 " I repeat it, it's all true," said Robert, " and 
 more than that, she would marry me to-morrow, 
 if I chose to propose to her." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Harry ; '* then why don't 
 
 you?" 
 
 *' Wait a bit, my fine fellow ; I am not in such 
 a hurry to be married just y^t ; I must have my 
 fun out first ; and there's another consideration, 
 I must be sure of her money, before I would 
 marry any woman." 
 
 " And pray, Mr. Robert, what is to become of 
 a certain Miss Julia Barnard ? I thought you 
 were already engaged to her — so report goes." 
 
 " Does it ? then report goes a little too fast. 
 The question has not been popped yet." 
 
 *' Perhaps not," replied Harry ; " but you have 
 gone so far, to my certain knowledge, that no 
 honourable man could retreat. You have won 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 147 
 
 that girl's affections, and I hope, for her sake, 
 you intend to marry her." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Harry, none of your heroics with 
 me; when I wish your advice, I will ask for 
 it. You want Miss Maitland yourself, I suppose, 
 albeit your whining nonsense about platonic 
 friendship; but, I tell you to your face, she 
 prefers me to such a milk-and-water specimen 
 of a man as you are. What can you want with 
 women, who daren't look a girl in the face the 
 whole time you were at Oxford ?" 
 
 " Robert Howard !" said Harry ; " speak 
 another word, and I'll fell you to the earth." 
 
 " You fen me .?" 
 
 " Yes — and I'll thrash you in five minutes to 
 your heart's content ; — I've done that before, 
 and I can do it again." 
 
 " We are not at school now, Master Harry, 
 and pistols are the weapons of gentlemen." 
 
 " I am quite aware of that fact, Mr. Howard," 
 sarcastically added Harry, " but I should like to 
 take the conceit out of you a little first, by 
 spoiling your good looks. Dare to give me 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 another insolent word, and I am just in the 
 humour to damage that pretty nose and mouth 
 of yours." 
 
 Robert, though no coward, knew Harry too 
 well to doubt his intentions. The look of 
 haughty defiance was in his eye ; and he had 
 seldom seen him so excited. He knew, more- 
 over, Harry's prowess, and dreaded the effects 
 of a black eye, which he felt sure he meant to 
 favour him with — so, lowering his tone, he 
 said — 
 
 *' I am sorry to have offended you with my 
 remarks ; but it's not worth while for two old 
 friends like we are, quarrelling about any girl." 
 
 " As you please, Robert ; but no more of 
 your impertinence. Though not so handsome 
 as you are, I am not your inferior in any other 
 respect, and I will only add, that the woman 
 who can seriously accept your addresses, is not 
 likely to become my wife ;" saying which, he 
 wished him good morning. 
 
 Harry's feelings were exceedingly lacerated by 
 this interview with his cousin ; but he knew 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 149 
 
 him too well, to give entire credence to aU he 
 had asserted respecting Miss Maitland. Yet he 
 thought there niust be some truth in it, as John 
 Power had made similar remarks, and he was 
 too cool and observant to be easily deceived. 
 Under these circumstances, he evinced no hurry 
 to present himself at Elm Grove, well knowing 
 that the news of his return would soon reach 
 the young lady's ears. 
 
 But it was not long before Mr. and Mrs. 
 Selwyn, meeting Harry in one of their usual 
 drives, pressed him so much to dine with them 
 on a certain day, when several young neighbours 
 were invited also, that he could not well refuse ; 
 and to speak the truth, Harry rather wished for 
 the opportunity of witnessing (more unobserved, 
 as he thought, in a large party) the conduct of 
 the young girl, in whom he had hitherto taken 
 so deep an interest. 
 
 The greater part of the company had assem- 
 bled, on the evening of this dinner party, before 
 Harry made his appearance in the drawing-room, 
 when passing with a low bow Miss Maitland, 
 
150 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 who was conversing in a lively tone of voice 
 with his cousin Robert, he instantly made his 
 way to the mistress of the house, with whom 
 he cordially shook hands, and then addressed 
 himself in like manner to those with whom he 
 was acquainted. He did not, however, approach 
 the part of the room in which Miss Maitland 
 was seated near Robert ; hut one furtive glance 
 stolen in that direction, revealed to him her 
 altered look and manner. She was now more 
 reserved, and seemingly heedless of Robert's 
 soft speeches, and soon after she rose from his 
 side. 
 
 Among the party here assembled, Harry re- 
 cognized Miss Dundonald, an old friend of 
 Miss Maitland's, who was often visiting at Elm 
 Grove. She was a most agreeable and well-in- 
 formed person, by several years Miss Maitland's 
 senior, and although not handsome, of prepos- 
 sessing appearance and most amiable disposition. 
 Harry, seeing a vacant chair near her, crossed the 
 room and sat down by her side. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Howard," she said, "you are 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 151 
 
 quite a stranger here now ; we began to think 
 we should never see you again/' 
 
 " And had that been the case, few of my fair 
 friends would have shed a tear for the loss of 
 Harry Howard." 
 
 " Oh, say not so — you do yourself injustice ; 
 but, as I see you are seeking for a compliment, 
 I shall not gratify your vanity by adding more — 
 I at least am glad to welcome you again, and 
 I think I may answer for another also." 
 
 " Many thanks," said Harry, " for your good 
 opinion, which I value highly ; but I hear you 
 have been very gay lately, and that your young 
 friend has been rendering herself rather con- 
 spicuous by her flirtations with Mr. Robert 
 Howard." 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Howard, may I ask who has given 
 you this information ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly — himself ; and he went a point 
 beyond that, by telling me the other day that he 
 could obtain her hand by merely asking for it." 
 
 " Oh, the vanity of that man 1" exclaimed 
 Miss Dundonald. " I shall certainly tell Miss 
 
152 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 Maitland what you say, and put her on her 
 guard." 
 
 " Do no such thing, I beg ; she has a right 
 to please herself, and flirt with any one she 
 fancies." 
 
 '' She is not a flirt, Mr. Howard — never has 
 been, and I hope never will be." 
 
 "May your opinion of her prove correct-— 
 for in my eyes a flirt of either sex is — — " 
 
 " What, Mr. Howard ?" 
 
 '' Heartless — but dinner I see is announced > 
 will you allow me to offer you my arm ?" 
 
 Robert, the moment he saw the butler enter 
 the room, dashed at once across to Miss Mait- 
 land, and John Power, who was sitting near her, 
 immediately gave way, thinking of course she 
 would prefer his arm. 
 
 It so happened, that, at the dinner- table, the 
 two quondam friends, now rivals, if not foes, were 
 seated opposite each other, with their fair com- 
 panions, although partially screened by an epergne 
 which occupied the centre of the table. Robert 
 was rattling away in his usual style, or rather 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 153 
 
 trying to surpass it, to annoy Harry by endea- 
 vouring to engross the attention of Miss Mait- 
 land, and make her laugh at his lively sallies. 
 This once, however, his ill-timed levity passed 
 almost unnoticed. She made few responses, and 
 John Power, who was seated next to her, seeing 
 there was something wrong, ventured to put in 
 a word or two occasionally, which being well 
 received, he drew her into a more general con- 
 versation, glad of the opportunity of annoying 
 the Lady-killer, as he called Robert, who had 
 cut him out more than once with his partners 
 at balls and parties. 
 
 Harry's glances were directed frequently across 
 the table to where Miss Maitland sat ; their eyes 
 met once, and the look she gave him so soft, 
 yet so melancholy, pierced Harry to the heart. 
 He mentally murmured, — 
 
 " I may have been too severe on that sweet 
 girl. She is young and thoughtless ; but that 
 perhaps is all." 
 
 Miss Dundonald noticed Harry's abstraction, 
 and his stolen glances across the table, and with 
 
154 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 a woman's quick perception instantly divining 
 the cause, playfully remarked — 
 
 " I fear, Mr. Howard, you have left your 
 heart behind you at your friend's house in 
 Hampshire." 
 
 " Do you seriously think so ?" inquired Harry, 
 with his eyes bent full upon her face, with a 
 searching look. 
 
 No answer was returned. Other topics of 
 conversation were then introduced, and Harry 
 was him.self again. The dinner hour passed, 
 and the signal was given for the ladies to retire. 
 After the gentlemen had discussed the usual 
 quantum of wine, politics, &c., an adjournment 
 was proposed to the drawing-room. Harry ob- 
 served Miss Maitland sitting with her friend on 
 the sofa, and from their rather confused looks, 
 when his eyes rested upon them, he guessed the 
 reason. Miss Dundonald had been recounting 
 his observation to her before dinner about her 
 flirtation with Robert, which both annoyed and 
 pained her ; and she had just been saying she 
 thought it very hard to be condemned so un- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 155 
 
 justly as a flirt, merely because she had been 
 amused with Mr. Howard's witticisms. 
 
 "He is certainly very handsome and very 
 agreeable," replied Miss Dundonald ; " but, my 
 dear Mary, he is a decided flirt, and he has gone 
 too far, I conclude, by speaking of you, as he 
 did to his cousin the other day. That is a 
 liberty no man should take with any girl, unless 
 fully assured of her affections." 
 
 " Oh ! I see, you are taking Mr. Henry 
 Howard's part." 
 
 " And justly so, my dear girl ; he is, in my 
 opinion, a much more estimable character than 
 the other ; but here he comes. I shall leave 
 you to lecture him if you think proper ;" saying 
 which, and before her friend could detain hen 
 she left her seat on the sofa, which Harry, with 
 a look of kind meaning to Miss Dundonald, 
 instantly occupied. Both were silent for a 
 second or two, when Harry broke the ice by 
 some common-place remark ; others succeeded, 
 but Miss Maitland's reserve did not wear off. 
 He talked of his journey into Hampshire. 
 
156 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " She hoped he had been amused." 
 
 " Oh, very much so," replied Harry ; " and I 
 hear also you have had very gay doings at Elm 
 Grove." 
 
 " Nothing very particular, only a few rather 
 pleasant dinner-parties, with some friends occa- 
 sionally calling, to wile away the mornings, with 
 music and singing." 
 
 " Among whom I have heard," added Harry, 
 very testily, " my cousin Robert has been the 
 most constant and conspicuous." 
 
 "WeU, Mr. Howard, he is very agreeable, 
 you must admit, and a great favourite with 
 papa and mamma." 
 
 "And with their fair daughter also, I am 
 told," added Harry. 
 
 " Perhaps not so great a favourite with her 
 as you may imagine, Mr. Howard ; but still I 
 like him very much as an acquaintance, who 
 helps to wile away a dull morning in the 
 country." 
 
 " He is a dangerous companion, and I am 
 sorry to see him on such intimate terms with 
 
 you." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD, 157 
 
 "Why, Mr. Howard, I always thought he 
 was a very particular friend, as well as cousin, 
 of yours. He talks of you as such, although 
 admitting your tastes and his are rather dis- 
 similar." 
 
 " Dissimilar ! the poles are not more wide apart 
 than the thoughts, words, and actions of Rohert 
 and Harry Howard. Schoolfellows we have been, 
 fellow collegians, cousins, and neighbours also, 
 but friends never, and never can be. Although 
 engaged to another, as he certainly is, he yet 
 tries to ensnare the affections of every young 
 and thoughtless girl he meets with, and would 
 sacrifice whole hecatombs of such, upon the altar 
 of his insatiable vanity ; forgive my warmth of 
 expression, Miss Maitland ! I would save you 
 from being the dupe of one more dangerous 
 than Mr. Macneil ; but I see and hear enough 
 to convince me the time when Harry Howard 
 was looked upon as a friend has passed away ;" 
 saying which, he rose abruptly and turned to 
 another part of the room, where John Power 
 was standing. 
 
158 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Miss Maitland was vexed and unhappy ; she 
 felt now she had gone rather too far, and by 
 her coldness to Harry had pained one whom she 
 had every reason to respect and admire. Music 
 was now introduced, and Robert, anxious again 
 to regain his lost ground, approached Miss 
 Maitland, requesting she would favour him with 
 a song. To this she pleaded a slight cold, and 
 begged to be excused that evening. Robert, 
 however, persisted in his suit, and Mrs. Selwyn 
 overhearing him, said — 
 
 " Come, Mary, sing my favourite song." 
 " Indeed, mamma, I cannot sing to-night." 
 *' Well, then, my dear, only one verse ; — you 
 cannot refuse me that." 
 
 Mary rose at once, Robert most obsequiously 
 following her to the piano. Her heart was, 
 however, too full ; her voice faltered with emo- 
 tion, and at the end of the first verse she 
 abruptly quitted her seat, which her friend, 
 Miss Dundonald, who was by her side, imme- 
 diately occupied, and finished the song for her. 
 John Power and Harry were not inattentive 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 159 
 
 observers of what was passing, the former re- 
 marking — 
 
 " I am right glad that fellow Robert has got 
 his quietus to-night. She does not fancy his 
 flummery now, any way, Harry, perhaps because 
 you are in the room.'* 
 
 " Very likely. I feel I am one de trop to- 
 night, and looked upon as a Marplot, but it shall 
 not happen again just yet; the coast shall be 
 clear for the future to Robert, or any other pre- 
 tender. The hunting season has now com- 
 menced, and a few good gallops will soon 
 disperse the blues." 
 
 " Ah, my boy, that's the time of day — Diana's 
 the goddess for me !" 
 
 The party soon after broke up, Harry shook 
 hands with Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn, and approaching 
 Miss Maitland, said in a subdued tone of voice — 
 
 "Forgive my obtrusiveness this evening — I 
 will not offend you again by ofl'ering my advice," 
 and passed on before she could reply. 
 
 On reaching her room, Mary Maitland burst 
 into tears. 
 
160 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Oh, how cold and distant he has become, 
 who I always thought would prove my friend 
 and supply the place of my dear cousin ; he, at 
 least, would not have treated me thus.'* 
 
 Indulging in such melancholy reflections, she 
 was aroused by a knock at the door, and Miss 
 Dundonald's voice begging to be admitted. She 
 at once detected the traces of her friend's tears, 
 and guessing the cause, said — 
 
 " My dear Mary, you have pained yourself as 
 well as another, more than you suppose, by your 
 distant behaviour to him to-night." 
 
 " Well, but I did not choose to be lectured 
 like a school-girl, and he spoke so rudely of his 
 cousin, Mr. Howard, that although no particular 
 friend of mine, I could not refrain from taking 
 his part. If mamma sees no impropriety in 
 my conduct to him, why should Mr. Harry 
 Howard?" 
 
 "Your mamma, my dear, sees Mr. Howard 
 in his holiday dress only, and is not aware that 
 he is already engaged ; but men soon find out 
 each other's real characters. Would you seri- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 161 
 
 ously exchange Harry Howard's warm and manly 
 feelings, for Robert Howard's plausible ad- 
 dresses ?" 
 
 " What do I know more, Lucy, of Mr. Henry 
 Howard's feelings to me ?" 
 
 " Enough to satisfy me, if not yourself, my 
 dear friend ; and lookers-on, you know, see more 
 than those concerned." 
 
 " Perhaps he would only play with my feel- 
 ings, as he represents his cousin's intentions 
 to be." 
 
 " A hint of Mr. Robert How^ard's, I suppose ; 
 but with one observation more, my dear Mary> 
 I shall leave you for the night. I have lived 
 many years longer in the world than you have, 
 and have studied men's characters deeply ; more 
 than that, I have once hopelessly loved." A 
 pause ensued for a few seconds, when she added, 
 with a trembhng voice, " If Harry Howard does 
 not love you to his heart's core, then I have no 
 faith in man's physiognomy." 
 
 '' Oh, say not so, dearest Lucy ; then how 
 cruelly have I treated him this evening ; I can- 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 not bear to think of it. But your conjectures 
 are still conjectures only." 
 
 " They are more than that, Mary, or would 
 never have found utterance from me, so good 
 night, my dear girl ;" and kissing her, she left 
 the room. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 What were Harry's sensations when tossing 
 to and fro on his restless pillow that night? 
 Words can scarcely describe them. His confi- 
 dence abused, his friendship slighted, his advice 
 despised, himself repulsed, and a flirt preferred. 
 The idol of pure and unalloyed gold which he 
 had raised and sanctified in the temple of his 
 heart, was at once dashed to pieces Hke a pot- 
 ter's vessel. Harry now knew and felt he loved ; 
 but the discovery came almost too late. The 
 accounts he had heard of Mary's flirting with 
 Robert, which seemed confirmed almost to his 
 own sight, when first entering the drawing-room 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE SaUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 that evening, struck like daggers to his heart. 
 ** Oh, Mary ! Mary ! that one short month 
 should have effected such a change in that pure 
 heart ! but now thou art lost to me perhaps for 
 ever !" The perspiration stood in large drops on 
 poor Harry's forehead, and he groaned aloud — 
 sleep was out of the question. He arose from 
 his bed and paced the room in sad and gloomy 
 abstraction ; then feeling more composed, knelt 
 down and prayed for strength of mind to him- 
 self, and protection from evil for Mary Mait- 
 land. 
 
 With the assistance of John Power and a few 
 other young men of the neighbourhood, who 
 were sadly in want of some other winter amuse- 
 ment than lounging up and down tlie streets of 
 Bath, Harry had been induced to get together a 
 few couples of foxhounds (as no pack regularly 
 hunted the country), the management of which 
 he undertook, and this was to be the commence- 
 ment of their first season. Harry therefore 
 busied himself in preparations, which gave em- 
 ployment to his time and relief to his mind. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 165 
 
 resolving, if possible, to forget Mary Maitland. 
 For three months he never even entered the 
 doors of Elm Grove, neither could any invitation 
 from Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn induce him to do so. 
 He was always engaged somehow or somewhere ; 
 for his resolution being once made, he was inflex- 
 ible. Harry thought he had been entirely mis- 
 taken in his opinion of Miss Maitland's character, 
 and his thorough detestation of a flirt at first 
 steeled his heart against her ; but forget her he 
 could not, and he determined still to watch over 
 and save her, if possible, from the insidious 
 addresses of Robert. 
 
 About this time a cousin of Harry's was 
 staying on a visit at his father's house, with 
 whom he was in the habit of riding, and the 
 greater portion of his spare time was devoted to 
 her amusement. Neighbours, of course, were 
 not long in coming to the conclusion that 
 Harry's constant rides with his cousin could 
 only end in one way, but this was very far from 
 Harry's real intentions. 
 
 Still the report prevailed, and soon was con- 
 
166 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 veyed to Miss Maitland's ears. The effect it 
 produced upon her may be gathered from a tete- 
 a-tete between Miss Dundonald and herself. 
 
 " Oh, Lucy," exclaimed the latter, " this news 
 confirms my worst fears ; you see, now, he is 
 going to be married to his cousin. Oh, Lucy ! 
 you have encouraged me with false hopes, and I 
 am truly miserable. For three long months he 
 has never even called here, and from all quarters 
 I hear of his devoted attentions to his cousin." 
 
 " And yet," Lucy said, " my woman's faith 
 has never wavered ; Harry Howard loves you 
 still. He was vexed and justly offended at 
 your cool treatment that unfortunate night, and 
 thinks, perhaps, not without good cause, that 
 you prefer his cousin ; but still he will be, and is, 
 yours only. The Bath season is now at hand, 
 we shall meet him at some balls and parties, 
 and I will wring the secret from his heart ; till 
 then, my dear Mary, pray do not yield to 
 despondency." 
 
 The time had now arrived for Mary Mait- 
 land's first introduction to the beau monde — 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 167 
 
 young, beautiful, modest, and sweet-tempered, 
 she was very generally admired, and several 
 suitors had already entered the lists for her 
 hand. Harry heard of the impression she had 
 made, and it must be confessed a jealous feeling 
 shot through his heart. A grand dramatic baU 
 being the general topic of conversation among 
 the gay circles, Harry had offered to escort his 
 cousin there. The eventful evening arrived, 
 and amid a galaxy of beauty seldom before wit- 
 nessed in the gay city of waters, they entered 
 the theatre, the pit of which was boarded over 
 level with the stage. A short comedy (by 
 amateur performers) preceded the opening of 
 the ball, after w^hich dancing immediately com- 
 menced. 
 
 Harry observed his fair neighbour looking 
 more lovely than ever, dancing with a handsome- 
 looking man just opposite to where he was then 
 standing. All his former feelings returned at 
 once with beating violence to his heart, and he 
 feared he had condemned her too hastily. When 
 she crossed over near to him, and stood for a 
 
168 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 moment disengaged, Harry proffered his hand, 
 
 which was accepted, and asked her to dance 
 
 with him. 
 
 1 " The next quadrille," she replied, " I am 
 
 engaged, but the following one I shall be most 
 
 happy." 
 
 " Will you, then, stand our vis-a-vis in the 
 next?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," sh-e said, " if possible, in such a 
 crowd." 
 
 The quadrille being over, Hany watched her 
 wdth intense anxiety, until she was joined by a 
 Captain Dundas, who, offering his arm, led her 
 forward. Harry quickly followed, and knowing 
 the Captain slightly, proposed their standing op- 
 posite, but he very soon repented his position. 
 The Captain's attentions were most marked, and 
 the apparently cheerful and gay manner in which 
 they were received by Miss Maitland vexed 
 Harry to the soul. He had been reported as 
 one of the suitors for her hand, and here was 
 damning proof before Harry's own eyes that he 
 at least, could scarcely plead in vain. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. ' 169 
 
 Captain Dundas was handsome in person, 
 gentlemanly in appearance, of easy and polite 
 manners, and very winning in his address, 
 which, under a scarlet jacket, with all the gay 
 trappings of a dragoon regiment, would render 
 him, as Harry thought, quite irresistible to a 
 young and artless girl like Mary Maitland. He 
 appeared moreover evidently on familiar terms 
 with her, and Harry augured the worst. 
 
 " Oh ! what a fool I have been," said he to 
 himself; " but it cannot now be helped — and 
 stiU, if she ever loved me truly, as I did her, 
 she must feel as I do — she could never love 
 another — otherwise it matters not." 
 
 The quadrille over, Harry resigned his own 
 partner to her aunt's care, and then eagerly 
 sought Miss Maitland. Captain Dundas was 
 walking with her round the room, and in 
 various directions, evidently intending to keep 
 her to himself during the next dance, and trying 
 to avoid Harry's meeting with them ; but the 
 eagle eye of our fox-hunter was not so easily to 
 be foiled. Seeing the direction they were 
 
170 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 taking, he met them suddenly at an angle, and 
 there cut off all further retreat. 
 
 Harry's arm was politely offered, when he 
 naively said, " Now, Miss Maitland, as you have 
 deprived me of half my dance (the quadrille 
 having already begun), I will with pleasure 
 accompany you in your survey of the scenes 
 which you were taking with Captain Dundas, 
 and we will dance the next quadrille instead." 
 
 " Oh," she said, " for that I am again en- 
 gaged to Captain Dundas." 
 
 *' That cannot hold good now," replied Harry, 
 coolly, " as he has prevented me the pleasure of 
 dancing this quadrille with you, I shall return 
 the compliment — that's only fair play — inde- 
 pendent of which, it is not considered etiquette 
 for any young lady to dance twice on the same 
 evening with the same partner ; it looks too par- 
 ticular, unless they are on most famiUar terms." 
 Miss Maitland was silent, but she thought 
 his beginning again to give her advice was a 
 proof his affections had not been, as she ima- 
 gined, wholly estranged from her. — Harry 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 171 
 
 pressed the arm of his beautiful companion to 
 his side, with the feelings of one who had just 
 recovered a long lost, but dearly prized treasure. 
 The glow of pleasure and look of proud satis- 
 faction beamed on his manly features, as he 
 threaded his way through the motley crowd 
 dressed in costumes of the whole universe. 
 
 In passing along, cordial greetings and out- 
 stretched hands met Harry at every turn, from 
 old and young alike, which convinced his fair 
 partner of the estimation in which he was held. 
 Miss Maitland was more than gratified, she felt 
 proud also of her companion. The first feel- 
 ings of delight having passed, a fit of gloomy 
 abstraction seized on Harry for a few minutes, 
 as he ran over in his mind how they had last 
 parted, and how they had again met, when she 
 interrupted his cogitations by observing, " I 
 fear you are not well, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 " Why," he said, " the heat of the room 
 makes me feel rather uncomfortable. I had a 
 hard day's work yesterday, and a spill to finish 
 with, and this thick head dress oppresses me, 
 
172 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 but it will soon pass off. I see the dance is 
 nearly over, and time for us to take our places." 
 
 " Oh no," she said, " I do not care about 
 dancing ; we can find a seat in the boxes, where 
 you can rest a little." 
 
 This proposal suited Harry exactly. He led 
 her to a seat in the second tier, from whence 
 the glare of the chandehers was excluded, and 
 there sat down by her side. Harry's hand 
 shook, his lips quivered, and his voice also fal- 
 tered as he addressed her. Miss Maitland be- 
 came alarmed. 
 
 " You are really ill, Mr. Howard, I fear ; 
 what can I do for you?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing ; I shall soon be better." 
 
 Harry, by an effort, recovered his self-posses- 
 sion, and began talking fast on common sub- 
 jects — the ball, &c., and then made enquiries 
 after her father and mother, whom he did not 
 see there that evening. 
 
 " They are quite well," she replied, " but you 
 know they do not like balls or very large par- 
 ties, and therefore I came with Miss Dundonald 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 173 
 
 and her father to-night ; but for three long 
 months, Mr. Howard, you have never even 
 called at Elm Grove, and they fear you must 
 have taken offence at something they have 
 done." 
 
 " By no means," returned Harry. 
 
 " Then what has been the cause of your ab- 
 sence, if I may venture on such a question ? 
 Have I offended you?" 
 
 Harry was silent. 
 
 Miss Maitland paused for a moment, and 
 then added, " I hope, Mr. Howard, with his 
 former candour, will at least explain how." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Maitland, Mr. Howard will." 
 He then alluded to what he had before told her, 
 at their last dinner-party, of her flirtation with 
 Robert, and the cold, repulsive manner with 
 which she had received his weU-intended advice. 
 " From that night I felt we were friends 
 no longer," concluded Harry, with a deep sigh. 
 " Heaven only knows how pure and sincere my 
 intentions were towards you, to guard your fair 
 name from even the breath of scandal ; but you 
 
174 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 have too many friends and admirers now ever 
 to bestow another thought, or regard the friend- 
 ship of poor Harry How^ard ; it has all passed 
 
 away as a dream of the night, and I am " 
 
 here a choking sensation stopped his further 
 utterance, and he turned away, to conceal his 
 emotion. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Howard, you have indeed pained 
 me more than I can express. Could you think 
 me so ungrateful for all your past kindness ?" 
 
 " Oh, tell me then, Miss Maitland, has ano- 
 ther yet occupied that place which Harry How- 
 ard once held ?" 
 
 " Oh, never, never, he is my dear brother 
 stiU." 
 
 " Thank God !" ejaculated Harry, fervently, 
 " for that confession." 
 
 In an ecstacy of delight he pressed her hand 
 in his, and felt that pressure was returned. 
 " Now," he said, " I am aU right again, and 
 can dance like a merry andrew as I am, to- 
 night. Two quadrilles must I have with you, 
 nothing less will suit my humour." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 175 
 
 '' Oh, but you know," archly observed Miss 
 Maitland, " it is not etiquette." 
 
 " Ah ! you have me there ; but you forget 
 my saving clause, unless the parties are on the 
 most familiar terms. We have long been friends 
 and neighbours, you know, and once more bro- 
 ther and sister, I hope." 
 
 " But, I heard you were engaged to be mar- 
 ried to your cousin ? " 
 
 "Indeed!" said Harry, "and pray who gave 
 you that likely piece of information ?" 
 
 " All the world says so, and her aunt con- 
 firms it." 
 
 " We like each other very much as cousins," 
 added Harry, " and I have endeavoured to make 
 her visit as agreeable as I can, ours being a dull 
 house for ladies, but we are not in love with 
 each other. The world says also, that you are 
 engaged to that fascinating Captain of Dragoons, 
 who has been paying you so much attention 
 this evening. Does the world speak truth in 
 that case?" enquired Harry, rather uneasily. 
 " As much as in yours. When you give 
 
176 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 your hand to your cousin, I may bestow mine 
 on Captain Dundas, but not perhaps even in that 
 case.'* 
 
 "You appeared, however, much taken with 
 him, and were laughing and in high good hu- 
 mour when I first observed you." 
 
 " Yes, I like him very much as an acquaint- 
 ance — he is a very agreeable companion at 
 balls and parties, but nothing more to me." 
 
 Harry was satisfied. 
 
 They now descended into the vast arena 
 below, where the sets of quadrilles had been 
 already formed, and no vacancy appearing, 
 Harry suggested they should take a glass of 
 champagne first, and then a survey of the 
 dancers. There was Robert, flirting away as 
 usual, with one of the prettiest girls in the room, 
 who was evidently taking in his fine speeches, 
 as so many proofs of his devoted affection. 
 
 "Look at your friend Robert, Miss Mait- 
 land ; he is at his old game again, you see, lady- 
 killing. Do you know who his partner is ?" 
 
 "Yes, Lady Katherine L ." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 177 
 
 " Ah ! I thought Robert looked more puffed 
 up with vanity than usual— another victim — 
 poor girl, I pity her." 
 
 "Well, but all young ladies will not give 
 their hearts so readily as you imagine ; they 
 may be flattered by his attentions, without 
 serious thoughts of going further. I fear you 
 have a poor opinion of women generally." 
 
 " They are easily taken by the attentions of a 
 handsome man, and trust too much to outward 
 appearances. They have no means, you know, 
 of discerning men's real characters." 
 
 "Well, perhaps not; but then they ought 
 to exercise more circumspection — a woman 
 should never marry without at least one year's 
 acquaintance with her intended partner for life. 
 Matrimony is a serious business." 
 
 They were interrupted in their dialogue by 
 John Power, tapping Harry on the back, with 
 " by Jove ! Harry, your mother would scarcely 
 know you in this disguise. That large turban, 
 with those fierce black moustaches, and scyme- 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 ter by your side — what a fire-eating monster you 
 look. Is he not quite killing, Miss Maitland, 
 to-night?" 
 
 " Oh, quite," she gaily answered. 
 
 *' Egad ! I thought so. He beats the uniforms 
 into fits" — with another sly look. " Those red 
 jacket gentlemen, with their fine trimmings, are 
 no match for Harry the Turk." 
 
 " Come, John, no more of your nonsense, or 
 you will catch a Tartar yourself." 
 
 " No fear of that, Harry ; but you should see 
 him. Miss Maitland, in his bit of pink, my 
 favourite costume, on a fine hunting morning, 
 and hear his * You wind him, my boys !' as his 
 darlings dash into cover ; and then when the 
 fox is found, and away — riding over gates and 
 hedges, as if the — no — a lady drove him. He 
 is quite a killing fellow then, I can assure you, 
 and so those wily foxes find to their cost. But 
 for the last three months, the fiend of what I 
 won't just now say, has taken entire possession 
 of him ; he rides as if he tried to break his 
 neck, he does, indeed, Miss Maitland, and 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 179 
 
 Harry Howard would be a sad loss among his 
 male, if not his female friends — so pray give 
 him a little good advice — he'll attend to it from 
 you, I warrant," — with a knowing look at Miss 
 Maitland, — " won't you, Harry, like a good 
 boy?" 
 
 " Confound it, John, no more of this ; you 
 have had a glass too much to-night." 
 
 ** More Hkely a bottle ; but for all that, I'm as 
 sober as a judge now. Good bye, Harry, and 
 don't forget the lecture. Miss Maitland ; it's all 
 in his way, you know." 
 
 Saying which, John Power disappeared. 
 
 Captain Dundas, who had overheard some of 
 John Power's remarks, now approached, and 
 with rather a formal bow, said he believed he 
 had been promised the honour of M!ss Mait- 
 land's hand for the next quadrille. 
 
 '*I think not, Captain Dundas," replied 
 Harry ; " you have had your turn, and it is now 
 mine. Miss Maitland has not danced with me 
 once to-night, and she is my partner for the 
 next set." 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " May I petition for the succeeding one, then, 
 Miss Maitland ?" 
 
 "For that I am also engaged, I believe," 
 added she. 
 
 " Oh, may I ask to whom ?" he rather point- 
 edly enquired. 
 
 *' That I am not obliged to tell you ;'•' was the 
 like cool reply, with which the Captain walked 
 off, casting a fierce look at Harry, which was 
 returned with interest. 
 
 A waltz, however, being the next dance on 
 the card, the objections to which Harry was 
 discussing with his young friend, and had just 
 concluded some good advice on the subject, by 
 declaring he would never marry a girl who 
 waltzed, when the Captain seeing them looking 
 on, and knowing Harry never engaged in that 
 dance, thought it a good opportunity to have 
 bis revenge, by carrying off his partner to 
 Harry's discomfiture. Again presenting himself, 
 Captain Dundas said — 
 
 " You are not engaged for this dance, I see 
 Miss Maitland, therefore I may now fairly claim 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 181 
 
 your hand for a few turns in this enchanting 
 circle." 
 
 " I do not waltz, Captain Dundas." 
 
 *' Then, pray, let me be your instructor — it is 
 so delightful, only one turn — I am sure you will 
 like it." 
 
 " You have had my answer, Captain Dundas," 
 she replied ; and Harry, pressing her arm to his 
 side, turned with her in another direction. 
 
 The Captain was discomfited, and perceived 
 at once the influence Harry possessed over this 
 young and beautiful girl, whose affections he had 
 flattered himself (until this night) he was in a 
 fair way of securing. 
 
 " Confound his impudence!" said Harry ; "but 
 I know something more of that fine peacock than 
 he fancies — now I remember we were at the 
 same college together, for a short time. His 
 haughty looks won't pass current with 
 me." 
 
 "I hope," said Miss Maitland, "you know 
 nothing to his disparagement." 
 
 " Nor much to his credit — but he is not a 
 
182 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 person I should like to see on very intimate 
 terms with you, my fair sister." 
 
 " Well," she said, " I will be more distant, 
 for the future ; but, you see, I have much needed 
 your friendly advice on many points." 
 
 " You shall never need that more now ; — but, 
 perhaps, you will soon be tired of such a prosy 
 particular fellow as Harry Howard." 
 
 "When I am — I will candidly tell you." 
 
 They now enjoyed their quadrille together, as 
 mutual confidence was once more restored. An 
 old college friend, who had been watching Harry's 
 movements the whole evening, himself entertain- 
 ing certain views of conquest over his fair part- 
 ner, approaching him, said — " I see how the land 
 lies, Harry, and I suppose I must ask your per- 
 mission to dance with Miss Haitian d." 
 
 " W^hy, not exactly that," said Harry ; " but 
 though engaged to me the next quadrille also, 
 I will waive that in favour of an old friend, pro- 
 vided she consents." 
 
 This was said to avoid further remarks, as he 
 was aware he had been monopolizing Mary 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 183 
 
 rather more than might be deemed prudent, 
 although, with the usual blindness of a lover, 
 he had thought his attentions might have escaped 
 observation in such a crowd. 
 
 This arrangement being acceded to, and the 
 hour being now a very late or rather early one, 
 the gay throng began to disperse, and Harry 
 and his fair companion parted, with light and 
 cheerful hearts. 
 
184 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XTL 
 
 Sweet and peaceful v/as the sleep of Mary 
 Maitland, as she laid her wearied head on her 
 pillow that night. Her doubts and fears of the 
 last three months had ail passed away. She 
 felt she still retained the affections of the only 
 man whose good opinion she so highly valued. 
 And as for Harry Howard, he was in a perfect 
 transport of delight. 
 
 " Yes," he repeated, " still so beautiful, so 
 pure minded and affectionate, and as dear to me 
 as ever. Oh ! thank Heaven, for this most 
 undeserved blessing of that dear girl's love. 
 I have wronged her by my doubts and suspicions 
 — but never again will I doubt her more." 
 
 Excess of joy however, like excess of gri 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 185 
 
 often produces a similar effect. Harry could 
 not at first rest from over-excitement; but, at 
 last utterly exhausted, natui'e gave way, and his 
 slumbers were protracted to a very late hour. 
 When he awoke it was midday, but having 
 engaged a room in Bath that night, he thought, 
 after breakfast, in common poKteness he should 
 inquire after Miss Maitland, feeling as well, that he 
 long owed a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn. Contrary 
 to his expectations, he found all three at home ; 
 and after having explained, as he best could, his 
 long absence from Elm Grove, he soon found 
 himself reinstated on his usual good footing, 
 and was invited to their house whenever he 
 visited Bath. 
 
 After a long chat, finding Mrs. Selwyn dis- 
 inclined to give him any opportunity of a tete-a- 
 Ute with her daughter, Henry reluctantly took 
 his leave. As he turned his back on the gay 
 city that evening, his reflections on the last 
 night's event were at first full of gratification 
 and delight. He recalled every word Miss 
 Maitland had uttered, and felt now assured he 
 
186 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 had regained the place in her affections he 
 feared he had lost for ever. And yet, per- 
 haps, she loved him as a brother only — it might 
 never amount to anything more. There was 
 pain as well as pleasure in that reflection. 
 Again, a pang of jealousy shot through his 
 heart when he brought to mind the attentions 
 of Captain Dundas. " Still," he thought, " it 
 is best as we now are, for the present." His 
 father's intentions that he should enter some 
 profession, made him think more seriously on 
 the subject, and he knew full well marriage must 
 not enter into his calculations for some few years 
 at least. Prudence and principle alike prevented 
 him binding her by any formal engagement, 
 even should Miss Maitland accept him as her 
 affianced lover, of which, at present, he en- 
 tertained some doubts; and he determined, 
 with the feelings of an honourable mind, on the 
 first opportunity, to make her more fully ac- 
 quainted with his prospects in life. 
 
 At that time there were public assemblies 
 every week, and Harry thought it probable he 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 187 
 
 should meet Miss Maitland there at the follow- 
 ing one ; when he resolved frankly to explain 
 his situation and dependance on his father, not 
 with a view of pressing his suit further just then, 
 but that she might be fully aware of his real 
 position and prospects. 
 
 Harry's expectation of meeting his fair neigh- 
 bour at the next ball was not disappointed. On 
 entering the room, in which several hundreds were 
 already assembled, he observed her, looking, if 
 possible, more lovely than ever, dancing with 
 Captain Dundas. Harry's features suddenly 
 changed at this unpleasant discovery. He felt 
 hurt and offended, after what he had said to her 
 on the last occasion ; and on passing her and 
 being recognized, a blush overspread Miss 
 Maitland's face and mounted even to her brow, 
 which Harry returned by a distant and low bow. 
 Captain Dundas, noticing Harry's manner, darted 
 on him a look of triumph, which he returned 
 with one of utter contempt. Being in no 
 humour just then for daucing, he took his 
 station on a platform near the fire-place, 
 
188 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 where he could see at one view, all that was 
 going on in the body of the room, and with 
 folded arms and compressed lips he gazed on 
 the scene below. Dance succeeded dance, and 
 for every one was the hand of Mary Maitland 
 engaged. She appeared lively and gloomy by 
 turns, as Harry's keen eye rested upon her, 
 scrutinizing every look and gesture. Friends 
 and acquaintances passed by him frequently, 
 with whom he exchanged short greetings ; but 
 being more taciturn than usual, Power, among 
 the rest, observed him in this attitude of defiance, 
 and said — 
 
 '* Harry, you are as gloomy as a monk to- 
 night — what's the matter ?" 
 
 " Only a splitting headache, John." 
 
 " Heartache most likely, Harry — but come 
 along," taking his arm, " don't stand here any 
 longer hke a statue. Every one has noticed 
 you " 
 
 " So let them," replied he, walking away with 
 a haughty air. 
 
 " By Jove I Harry," rejoined Power, " you are 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 189 
 
 in a most amiable humour this evening, and 
 all, I'll warrant, because that sweet girl has been 
 dancing with the Captain — I saw the look you 
 gave him.'' 
 
 "Pho— pho! John." 
 
 " That fellow is a good shot, and will pink 
 you, my boy, if you don't take care." 
 
 " Let him try then," said Harry. 
 
 " Put your ill-humour in your pocket — come 
 and ask her to dance ; you will soon turn the 
 tables on him." 
 
 "Not I, John Power." 
 
 " Then I'll ask her myself for this dance, and 
 engage her for the next to you." 
 
 " You shall do no such thing." 
 
 " But I will, Master Harry ;" and before he 
 could detain him, John Power slipped away. 
 
 Harry turned in another direction ; but when 
 the music struck up, he ca^ a look on the 
 dancers, and there was John Power standing by 
 her side, and in animated conversation with 
 Miss Maitland. 
 
 Power kept his word, for he was really inte- 
 
190 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 rested in Harry's happiness, and did what he 
 thought a true friend ought to do, in effecting 
 a reconciliation. Power watched Harry's move- 
 ments, and seeing him occupy a seat, as soon as 
 the quadrille was over, took him rather by sur- 
 prise by blocking up his only means of escape^ 
 with his fair partner hanging on his arm. Harry 
 rose, and in common politeness offered her his 
 hand. 
 
 " It's all right, Harry," said Power, " and, as 
 you have been in such a low desponding mood 
 to-night, very bad I fear, I have engaged Miss 
 Maitland for the next dance, to raise your 
 spirits;" and casting a meaning look on both, 
 bowed and left them together. 
 
 Miss Maitland was the first to break the ice, 
 by saying, in a sympathizing tone, — 
 
 " Mr. Power tells me you are very unwell to- 
 night, and he fears labouring under a very dan- 
 gerous complaint. I hope such is not the case ; 
 but I have noticed you looked very pale and ill 
 this evening, and you have never asked me even 
 for one dance." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 191 
 
 " Did Power seriously tell you this ?" inquired 
 Harry, very gravely. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and, he added he knew you 
 were attacked often by sudden palpitations of 
 the heart." 
 
 " Hang that fellow T' thought Harry, " he has 
 betrayed me." But Miss Maitland dissipated 
 that impression, by adding — 
 
 " Perhaps the exertion of dancing may prove 
 too much for you to-night ; shall we take a turn 
 in the card-room instead ?" 
 
 Harry assented ; but the demon of jealousy 
 was working at his heart, as he thought of the 
 Captain, and he could not resist its impulse, 
 when that individual passed them with a self- 
 satisfied and familiar sort of look, directed at 
 her, which she appeared to return. 
 
 " Oh, I see, Captain Dundas has been forgiven 
 his impertinence, and restored to your favour as 
 usual," said he, in an offended tone. 
 
 " I cannot be rude to him," she replied very 
 quietly, "as he visits at our house ; and being 
 disengaged, I danced one quadrille with him — 
 
192 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 more I do not intend ; but you appear to have 
 taken a great dislike to him." 
 
 " We are not likely to be friends," said Harry, 
 " and people are generally judged by the com- 
 pany they keep." 
 
 Miss Maitland appeared hurt and offended by 
 this ill-humoured and rude remark, reflecting as 
 she thought, upon herself, and remained silent. 
 
 Harry saw he had gone too far. " Forgive 
 my impertinent remarks," he quickly added, 
 " they were not intended to apply to you, 
 save in the way of caution. I have before ex- 
 pressed my opinion of Captain Dundas — that 
 shall suffice, and the subject shall never again 
 be renewed by me. Friendship may go too far, 
 and advice, like physic, prove disagreeable to the 
 taste." 
 
 " Your friendship," she said, " I value so 
 highly, that I forgive your unkind remarks, 
 knowing the interest y©u have ever taken in 
 me." 
 
 " Well, well," he said, " I am sadly out of 
 humour and spirits to-night — that man's cha- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 193 
 
 racter I do not like ; and he hates me, I know 
 full well ; — but I shall now ask your advice, if 
 you will give it me, after what has passed." 
 " Most wilUngly, if competent to do so/' 
 Harry then entered into a full explanation of 
 his prospects in life, telling her, that although 
 his father had good possessions, yet that he 
 wished him to find occupation in some profes- 
 sion, instead of leading an idle life — and having 
 two livings in his gift, pressed him to become a 
 clergyman. 
 
 " Well," she said, " why should you not com- 
 ply with his wishes ? — it is a most honourable 
 profession, and confers the power of doing good 
 almost to an unlimited extent. I am sure it 
 would suit your feehngs in that respect." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " that is quite true, but that 
 is not all — it is a most serious and responsible 
 vocation, and I have scruples which I cannot 
 quite overcome. However, a ball-room is not a 
 fit place for discussions of this nature ; we will 
 talk of it another time." 
 
 It soon after struck the hour of twelve, when 
 VOT. T. o 
 
194 THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 
 
 the dancing ceased, and Harry having handed his 
 partner to her carriage, they parted — once more, 
 on good terms. 
 
 Harry Howard felt quite relieved after the 
 explanation he had given Miss Maitland. She 
 now knew his position and prospects, and he 
 could not be accused of withholding from her 
 any of these particulars. Whether her affection 
 for him would continue the same, and what the 
 true nature of that affection might be, was now 
 left for future events to determine. 
 
 A few days after, Harry met an old Oxford 
 friend, who had just entered the church, and as 
 he had always been intended for that profession, 
 for which, by his really christian disposition and 
 most exemplary conduct when at the University, 
 he was most particularly fitted, Harry thought 
 this a good opportunity of eliciting his friend's 
 views and opinions on that most sacred calhng. 
 A long and severe examination followed. Mr. 
 Goodman condemned most severely the too 
 constant practice of young men entering the 
 church merely as a profession or means of sub- 
 sistence. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 195 
 
 " It is true," he said, " that the labourer is 
 worthy of his hire, and the ministers of the 
 gospel, who dispense spiritual things, are entitled 
 in return to your carnal things for their support ; 
 but St. Peter says, * Feed the flock of God 
 which is among you, taking the oversight 
 thereof, not by constraint, but willingly ; not for 
 filthy lucre, but of a ready mind.' In our church 
 ordination service also, the question asked dea- 
 cons is very impressive and searching, * Do you 
 trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy 
 Ghost to take upon you this office and ministra- 
 tion, to serve God for the promoting of his 
 glory and the edifying of his people ?' " 
 
 Goodman cited other texts to show that no 
 man should lightly or irreverently undertake the 
 ministry of the gospel ; and Harry felt so con- 
 vinced by his arguments, as to resign at that 
 time all further intentions of entering into holy 
 orders. 
 
 About a fortnight after this conversation, 
 Harry received an invitation to dine with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Selwyn, of which he gladly availed 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 himself. The dinner-party was rather select (as 
 a dance was to take place afterwards), and he 
 had a good opportunity, from some observa- 
 tions made at table, of recalling to Miss Mait- 
 land the conversation they had commenced 
 at the rooms about his taking orders, and the 
 strong opinions expressed by his friend on the 
 subject, by which his former scruples had been 
 confirmed. 
 
 " With such convictions," she said, " you are 
 right, perhaps, in dechning to adopt the church 
 as a profession, unless your ideas should undergo 
 a change." 
 
 " But what, then, do you recommend — the 
 army or the law ?" 
 
 " Certainly not the latter," she rephed ; " and 
 as to the former, although my father and many 
 of my family were soldiers, I can scarcely wish 
 to see you in the profession of arms." 
 
 " May I ask why ?" Harry inquired. 
 
 " I can hardly give you my reasons now," she 
 eplied, with a slight blush. 
 
 " Oh do," said Harry. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 197 
 
 " Why," she said, in a low voice, " I might 
 lose my brother." 
 
 " Well, then, would your brother be the same 
 to you in a black coat as in a red one ?" 
 
 " Oh, just the same." 
 
 Harry asked no more questions. 
 
 The Bath season was now drawing to a close, 
 and Harry, hearing Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn's in- 
 tentions of paying a round of visits to their 
 friends and to town during the summer, had 
 prepared a little present as a token of remem- 
 brance to his dearly-loved sister on that evening. 
 Upon returning to the drawing-room, therefore, 
 he called her attention into the adjoining room, 
 to examine some scrap books, a print in one 
 reminding him of a sporting acquaintance. She 
 at once accompanied him, and when looking 
 over the book in a retired part of the room, he 
 produced a pretty little ivory fan, and giving it 
 into her hand, said — 
 
 " Will you accept this little token of Harry *s 
 regard ? — It is of small value, but may, perhaps, 
 remind you, during our long separation, of one 
 
198 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 constant friend you have left behind. One little 
 condition is attached to your acceptance of it," 
 added Harry. 
 
 " And what is that ?" she timidly inquired. 
 " Can I accept it ?" 
 
 " Simply this, when you meet with another 
 who can hold a warmer place in your affections 
 than Harry, return this fan to him broken in 
 pieces." 
 
 " That is not very likely to happen," she said, 
 " and I accept your gift with pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn now approached. " Well, my 
 dear, you and Mr. Howard have been a long 
 time looking over the books. Have you found 
 the character you wanted, Mr. Howard ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," he replied, with a fond glance at 
 her daughter, " it is quite perfection." 
 
 " Well, I am glad to hear you have succeeded 
 in your search ; but the company are beginning 
 to arrive, Mary, and you must help me to do 
 the honours." 
 
 Amongst those who were invited this evening, 
 were Captain Dundas and Robert Howard. The 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 199 
 
 former, with the tact of a man of the world, 
 had ingratiated himself into Mrs. Selwyn's 
 favour, who had always evinced a predilection 
 for military men, from old associations ; which 
 the Captain perceiving, turned to some account, 
 and by his polite and flattering attentions, had 
 already so far succeeded, that he had become a 
 very frequent visitor at their house, and consi- 
 dered himself almost in the position of an ac- 
 cepted suitor for her daughter's hand. The 
 first check to his ambitious views had been 
 given at the Dramatic F^te, where he observed 
 the marked attentions of Harry Howard, and 
 the friendly manner in which they had been 
 received ; certain insinuations also had been 
 made by John Power, which tended to raise 
 suspicions as to Harry's final intentions : he re- 
 solved, therefore, upon the first opportunity of 
 their meeting again, to introduce himself to 
 Harry as an old college acquaintance, and worm 
 the secret out of him. This evening presented 
 a fair opportunity for so doing ; and seeing Harry 
 talking with John Power, he approached them. 
 
200 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " I think I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. 
 Howard about three years since, at Oxford ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Harry, " I believe I have had 
 that honour." 
 
 " Then," added the Captain, " it will afford 
 me very great pleasure to renew our acquaint- 
 ance ;" and his hand being offered, it was taken 
 by Harry under the same feelings as those enter- 
 tained by two pugilists when entering the roped 
 arena, who think it necessary to undergo the 
 ceremony of shaking hands before setting to in 
 right good earnest to knock the breath or life 
 out of each other's bodies. The Captain, know- 
 ing Harry's penchant for field sports, expatiated 
 at considerable length on this topic; and then 
 turning the conversation to the ladies, said — 
 
 " I see you are as great a favourite in the 
 ball-room as in the field, and know the art of 
 love-making as well as hunting." 
 
 " I am no flatterer," said Harry, " and never 
 wish to appear otherwise than I am. To you, 
 and such as you who are professed ladies' men, I 
 leave all this soft and unmeaning language." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 201 
 
 " Well," he replied, " you certainly can exer- 
 cise a little influence sometimes over the fair 
 sex, if I may judge by appearances. What 
 think you of Miss Maitland ? Is she not a 
 most beautiful and sweet-tempered girl, and 
 with what grace does she play her part of hos- 
 tess to-night ? Don't you consider her a most 
 charming person ?" 
 
 " Decidedly. I have known her long and 
 intimately." 
 
 " Well, I thought so, and am told you have 
 serious intentions in that quarter." 
 
 " Very likely," replied Harry, carelessly ; " but 
 the same is reported of Captain Dundas." 
 
 " Why, I will confess, I am over head and 
 ears in love with her, and flatter myself — (with 
 a most complacent and satisfied air) — " that my 
 affection is reciprocated." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Harry ; *' and pray, who 
 occupies the proud position of first claimant on 
 Captain Dundas's pure affections; Miss Mait- 
 land, or a certain dark-eyed young lady at No. 6, 
 C Street ?" 
 
202 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 The Captain was doubled up by this sudden 
 and well-directed blow, and quailed under Harry's 
 indignant eye ; but soon recovering, answered 
 in his usual off-hand manner — 
 
 " Oh, that is a mere matter de convenances 
 pour passer le temps. When a man marries, 
 he gives up those connections, as a matter of 
 course." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Harry ; " but you must 
 excuse my remarking, that step does not always 
 follow as a matter of course.'* 
 
 " Oh," said he, *' women generally prefer gay 
 men, and marry such often for the pleasure of 
 reclaiming them." 
 
 " You have a great opinion of women's cre- 
 dulity," replied Harry ; " but from such a task 
 as this, a young and pure-minded girl ought to 
 be protected." 
 
 " Oh, I see," said the Captain, " you intend 
 to cut me out if you can ; in short, you mean 
 to marry Miss Maitland yourself." 
 
 " My secrets are best in my own keeping/' 
 said Harry, and walked away. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 203 
 
 From this conv^ersation the Captain augured 
 no good, and to be beforehand with Harry, re- 
 solved that night to propose to Miss Maitland, 
 if an opportunity presented itself; he therefore 
 watched them both w^hen together very nar- 
 rowly, and having succeeded in handing her 
 down stairs to the supper-room, felt assured, 
 from her manner to him, that nothing had as yet 
 been divulged by Harry. So far all was right. 
 The Captain's attentions were unremitting; 
 pressing her to take wine, under the excuse of 
 her great exertions that night, and taking good 
 care to replenish his own glass freely, to nerve 
 him for the occasion. Having engaged her hand 
 for the next quadrille, he had resolved, on that 
 occasion, to plead his cause, which, on returning 
 to the dancing-room, was commenced with all 
 the fervour and impassioned looks and words of 
 a man well versed in such professions. It has 
 been said, " Out of the abundance of the heart 
 the mouth speaketh;" this, however, does not 
 hold good in all cases. True love is ever 
 diffident, but the Captain's head was here as 
 
204 THE SaUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 much or more concerned than his heart. He 
 loved her, it is true, with the love of the senses 
 — passion — as he had loved other women be- 
 fore ; but he loved money as well, having been 
 assured she would possess a good fortune. This 
 was the chief incentive to his urgent protesta- 
 tion of love and devotion. He was doomed to 
 disappointment. Miss Maitland, although taken 
 completely by surprise at first, quietly but firmly 
 refused him. He would scarcely take a denial ; 
 hoped she would consider that his life was in 
 her hands, with a great deal of such trash, and 
 not doom him to despair. All his arts of per- 
 suasion proved unavailing. " Oh, then," he 
 said, " reserve your decision until another day." 
 
 *' No," she replied, " you have it now — 1 shall 
 never alter; we may be friends, but nothing 
 further." 
 
 " Then," he added bitterly, *' I know the cause 
 of my rejection — you love Mr. Howard." 
 
 She made no reply, but the bolt had struck 
 home. This scene was unobserved by Harry, 
 who was dancing in the adjoining room ; but 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 205 
 
 John Power's eyes had been fixed upon the 
 Captain ever since he quitted the supper room, 
 where he remarked his unceasing attentions to 
 Miss Maitland. " There's mischief brewing to- 
 night,'* thought Power, in his usual calculating 
 way. " I'll see this game out/' He watched 
 the Captain narrowly, though apparently deeply 
 engaged with his own partner, and soon per- 
 ceived, from his low and impressive tone of 
 voice and manner, although suppressed as much 
 as possible, that something serious was the sub- 
 ject of his address to his beautiful partner. Her 
 changing colour confirmed his surmises, and 
 from the last despairing look of the Captain, 
 Power drew his final conclusion, that he had 
 popped the question, and failed. The moment 
 the quadrille was over, John sought his friend 
 Harry, and whispered in his ear, " There is one 
 knight less upon the list ; the Captain has run 
 his tilt, and is hors de combat" 
 
 " What do you mean, John ?" 
 
 " Only that he has urged his suit, and been 
 rejected." 
 
206 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense !" 
 
 " But it's quite true ; I guessed his move at 
 supper- time, and resolved to see the game played 
 out. He has lost it ; a better chance now for 
 you, my boy." 
 
 " Many thanks, John, for your kind interest 
 in me." 
 
 " No man more welcome, Harry ; but that 
 girl is too good to be thrown away upon a dan- 
 dified, philandering fellow like that, with a mis- 
 tress, perhaps, in every town. No, no ; let me 
 see her the wife of an honest, manly, straight- 
 forward fox-hunter, and I shall be satisfied." 
 
 Harry joined Miss Maitland, and although 
 aware of the cause of her altered and thoughtful 
 look, did not appear to notice it, but with the 
 true feelings of a delicate mind, endeavoured to 
 divert her attention to other subjects. He asked 
 many questions about their summer excursions, 
 and how long she would be absent. 
 
 *' You will doubtless visit many gay places, 
 and see many gay people, who will throw plain 
 Harry Howard into the shade; but you may, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 207 
 
 perhaps, when using that fan, sometimes think 
 of him in his soHtude." 
 
 " Oh, do not doubt it," she said ; ** you have 
 ever been my truest and kindest friend, and I 
 shall long to be back again at Elm Grove." 
 
 " One little piece of advice I must give you 
 ere we part. Look not to outward appearances ; 
 a bad heart is often concealed under the most 
 polished and gay exterior. Remember the old 
 and true saying, ' all is not gold that glitters ;' 
 those who feel the most, generally say the least. 
 And now I must say farewell. May Heaven 
 bless and protect you till we meet again ;" saying 
 which, he pressed her hand firmly, and departed, 
 promising to call at Elm Grove before they left 
 the country. 
 
208 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It was a pleasant evening in May, when 
 Harry w^as returning to Beech\\ood on foot, 
 from Elm Grove, where he had just taken leave 
 of Miss Maitland, previous to her departure, 
 when sauntering leisurely along a green lane, he 
 was accosted by one of the gipsy tribe, an old 
 woman of nearly seventy, whose sun-burnt fea- 
 tures still retained the traces of their youthful 
 beauty. 
 
 " Will your honour cross my hand with a 
 silver coin, and I will read your fortune ?" 
 
 " Nay, my good woman," replied Harry, 
 good-humour edly, *' here is a shilling, but my 
 destiny, such as it may be, is as much a blank 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 209 
 
 page to you as to myself. Mortals cannot look 
 into futurity." 
 
 " But they may divine things that will come 
 to pass, were they to use wisely the knowledge 
 they possess ; it is sunshine now, but the threat- 
 ening clouds that hang hovering over our heads 
 will burst anon, with lightning and thunder." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Harry, " therefore I must 
 hurry forward." 
 
 " Stay, young sir," replied the woman, " and 
 listen to my warning. There are storms raised 
 by mortal hands, gathering round the head of 
 one you would give your life to shelter." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Harry, "how so? Tell 
 me how gained you this information, and who 
 would dare to injure her, and more than thanks 
 shall be your due ; but mark me, no deception." 
 
 " Master Harry," replied the gipsy, '' you 
 and yours are well known to me and all my 
 tribe, and many a shilling has your worthy 
 father bestowed on my little grandchildren, when 
 playing by your woodside, where our camp now 
 lies, and where it has been pitched many years 
 
 VOL. T. p 
 
210 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 past, when we visit this part of the country. 
 Our wandering life makes us acquainted with 
 many secrets." 
 
 " No doubt," said Harry, " but what of mine ? 
 or rather who are the enemies that threaten ?" 
 
 " You know them well," replied the syl3il. 
 " The hawk that is scared from his prey by the 
 fowler's gun, will return to his victim when the 
 coast is clear. You stand in the path of one 
 who ill brooks your interference, and will wTeak 
 his vengeance on her you have once rescued from 
 his clutches." 
 
 " No more dark sayings," said Harry, impa- 
 tiently, " but to the point at once. Speak freely 
 and openly, here are no eaves -droppers." 
 
 " Be it so," said the w^oman. " There is a 
 deserted hut on the Chilmark Downs, some 
 twenty miles hence, hard by the turnpike-road 
 on the top of the hill — " 
 
 " I know it well," rephed Harry. 
 
 '' The family of yonder grove will pass thereby 
 to-morrow, about this time, but rather later, in 
 the dusk of the evening." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 211 
 
 " No/' said Harry, " you are mistaken ; they 
 leave early, and will arrive at their journey's end 
 before this hour to-morrow." 
 
 " Not so, Master Harry — they will be de- 
 layed." 
 
 " How know you this ?" 
 " Enough," said the gipsy, " that I do know 
 more than you; but if you doubt my words, 
 watch and see. I don't mislead you. Be you 
 near the shepherd's hut, but not in sight, this 
 time to-morrow, well armed and mounted, with 
 one or two others, and you may save her you 
 love from a fate worse than death. And now, 
 good night ; be cautious, Master Harry, and 
 quench not the light of your father's house by 
 haste or rashness. Those you will meet are 
 good horsemen and ready shots ; but the hand 
 of the guilty man always trembles. Once more, 
 good night — be quick, but steady." 
 
 The gipsy was gone ere Harry recovered from 
 the reverie into which her words had plunged 
 him. For a moment, he stood pondering in 
 his mind what this warning might mean. 
 
 p 2 
 
212 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense, perhaps," thought 
 Harry, " and yet I'll test the truth of one part 
 of her story. Why should their journey be 
 delayed ? This, at least, I will ascertain, and if 
 that is true, the rest may follow." 
 
 Without apprising his father of his intentions, 
 Harry mounted his horse the following morning 
 about eleven o'clock, taking his servant Ned 
 wdth him, and his saddle bag, well provided with 
 pistols, and rode over to Elm Grove. 
 
 To his surprise he found the family had 
 not yet left, as George Selwyn had detained 
 his father on business, and was still in the 
 house. 
 
 " Ah !" thought Harry, " so far that gipsy tells 
 true. I guess the plot now that's hatching, and 
 will watch that fellow narrowly." 
 
 Giving directions to his servant to wait for 
 him in a certain bye lane, a few miles further 
 on his road, Harry put his horse in the stable^ 
 and walked round to the hall door. John Har- 
 ding, the footman, answered the bell, all ready 
 dressed for starting. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 213 
 
 " Why, not gone yet, John ? " exclaimed 
 Harry. 
 
 *' No, sir ; Mr. George has detained master 
 all the morning in the library, and now we don't 
 go till after luncheon." 
 
 " Indeed ! Then I suppose I may walk into 
 the drawing-room for a minute?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; our young lady is there," 
 replied John, with a knowing smile. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Howard !" exclaimed Mary, as he 
 entered the room, " we scarcely expected to 
 have seen you again ; but George rode over 
 here early this morning, and has detained papa 
 on business. We don't leave now till three 
 o'clock, and I am sure mamma will be glad if 
 you will stay and lunch with us." 
 
 " That I am unable to do," replied Harry ; 
 " but will remain half-an-hour, if I am not en- 
 croaching on your time and preparations." 
 
 " Our packing is all completed," replied 
 Mary, " and all we have now to do is to put on 
 our bonnets, so you need not think your company 
 an intrusion." 
 
214 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Harry sat down on the sofa, and for a few 
 minutes remained lost in thought, and gave 
 such unmeaning answers to a few questions 
 asked by Miss Maitland, that she could not fail 
 to notice his abstraction, and rallied him on his 
 agreeable humour. 
 
 " Leave taking," said Harry, *' is far from a 
 cheerful office. Doubts will sometimes cross 
 one's mind, when and how we may meet again 
 — if ever. Forebodings of danger hang about 
 me, which I cannot dispel." 
 
 " Do not anticipate evil, Mr. Howard ; we 
 ought ever to hope in a bright future, and a few 
 wrecks hence, I trust, we shall all meet again." 
 
 " May Heaven grant it ! " replied Harry, as 
 the door opened, and George Selwyn stood be- 
 fore him, 
 
 " What ! you here, Mr. How^ard ?" exclaimed 
 George, in surprise." 
 
 "And why not?" replied Harry, confronting 
 him. " There is nothing very extraordinary, I 
 suppose, in my riding over to take leave of my 
 neighbours." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 215 
 
 " Certainly not ; if you were to use the sin- 
 gular instead of the plural number — but your 
 leave-taking call was made yesterday, if I mis- 
 take not." 
 
 " My visits do not require your sanction, sir," 
 said Harry ; " and if ill-timed, your father can 
 prevent their repetition." 
 
 " The object of them, sir, is sufficiently 
 obvious to me, if not to others; and as Miss 
 Maitland's brother, I have a right to de- 
 mand an explanation of your frequent visits 
 here." 
 
 " Which," said Harry, " you will excuse me 
 for saying, I do not consider myself under the 
 least obligation to afford to you." 
 
 " Very well, sir," exclaimed Selwyn, in a 
 towering passion ; " beware how you cross my 
 path, or you may rue this insolence." 
 
 " And permit me, Mr. George Selwyn, to 
 offer you a little piece of adv^ice also ; beware 
 how you threaten me again, or I will unmask 
 your devices to your father. I know you well, 
 better than you think." 
 
216 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Do you indeed," said Selwyn, leaving the 
 room with a sneer ; " you are extremely clever, 
 no doubt." 
 
 As the door closed upon him, Miss Maitland 
 exclaimed, 
 
 "How rude and ill-tempered George is. I 
 hope, Mr. Howard, you will not quarrel with 
 him ; for he is very revengeful sometimes, and 
 quite frightens me." 
 
 " No," replied Harry, " I shall keep him at a 
 respectful distance, unless he should try to injure 
 you, as he did once before, and then he must 
 take the consequences." 
 
 "Pray, Mr. Howard, do not ever agam in- 
 volve yourself in danger on my account." 
 
 " Not if it can be avoided, rest assured," re- 
 plied Harry. " But hark ! there goes Mr. 
 George, full gaUop up the avenue, and now I 
 must also take my leave. The gipsy may be 
 wrong after all." 
 
 " What do you mean about the gipsy?" she 
 enquired. 
 
 " Oh, nothing particular," said Harry, rising 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 217 
 
 abruptly, and extending his hand. '' May Heaven 
 preserve you from all harm till we meet again.'* 
 Harry left the room, and in passing through 
 the hall exchanged a few words with John Hard- 
 ing in a whisper, the only response to which 
 was, 
 
 " Never fear, sir, Til be provided." 
 The sun had long set below the horizon on 
 this evening, and darkness was coming on, when 
 a large double-bodied carriage, drawn by four 
 horses, was leisurely ascending the last hill, on 
 the open Chilmark Downs ; the coachman 
 and groom occupying the box seat, and the 
 footman and lady's maid snugly ensconced in 
 the rumble. Suddenly, four horsemen, emerging 
 from behind the shepherd's hut, rushed across 
 the turf and drew up in the road ; the two fore- 
 most, with pistols in hand, placing themselves 
 so as to prevent the carriage proceeding farther, 
 and threatening the coachman with instant death 
 if he attempted to move. The other two, whose 
 faces were covered with black crape, dismounted 
 at the carriage door, which was immediately 
 
218 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 opened by a tall powerful-looking man, who 
 seemed to be the leader. Mr. Selwyn, trembling 
 and shaking in every limb, timorously offered 
 his purse, and hoped they would allow them to 
 proceed on their journey. 
 
 " Keep your money to yourself, old man," 
 replied the leader ; *' we want no dross of that 
 kind. But your fair daughter there, she must 
 go with us." 
 
 " Oh, merciful God ! what can you want 
 with my dear child ?" exclaimed Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 " She shall come to no harm, madam, and 
 will be restored to you again. Come," said the 
 man, in a gruff voice, " no parleying. Go she 
 must, and shall." 
 
 " Never 1" cried Mrs. Selwyn, " as long as I 
 have life and strength to protect her ! Here, 
 John !" she cried ; " help ! help ! or we shall 
 be murdered !" 
 
 John Hard man forced his way to the carriage 
 door, when he was suddenly pushed back by the 
 other man. 
 
 " Never mind, ma'am," he shouted out, " help 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 219 
 
 will soon be here ; they sha'n't have my young 
 missus. Let go, you scoundrel, or I'll blow 
 your brains out !" saying which, he placed a 
 pistol at the leader's head, which was instantly 
 knocked aside by his companion, who felled 
 John Harding to the ground, and in the scuffle 
 the pistol exploded, lodging its contents in the 
 second robber's leg. 
 
 " Here, more help !" shouted the leader, as 
 he vainly endeavoured to drag Miss Maitland 
 from the carriage. 
 
 " Quick, Tom 1 leave Mike to mind the 
 horses !" 
 
 As the two were thus occupied in trying to 
 possess themselves of the young lady (Mr. Sel- 
 wyn being too frightened to resist), with the 
 speed of hghtning two horsemen hove in sight, 
 and so sudden was their onslaught, that the 
 man who kept guard over the coachman, having 
 his attention directed to his companions at the 
 carriage side, heard not their approach, and was 
 instantly knocked senseless out of his saddle. 
 
 " Down on the rogue, Will !" cried Harry, 
 
220 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 "and pinion him whilst we grapple with the 
 others. Now, Ned, to the rescue !" saying 
 which, he dashed at the nearest robber, who, 
 turning at his voice, discharged his pistol straight 
 at Harry's head, but missed his aim. A blow 
 from Harry's heav}'.headed iron hunting crop 
 descended on the robber's arm, which fell power- 
 less by his side. " Knock that fellow down, 
 Ned," cried he, " whilst I secure the other. 
 
 " Stand back from me, or you are a dead 
 man !" cried the leader, turning about and con- 
 fronting Harry ; " I will not be taken alive !" 
 
 " Yield !" cried Harry ; " your men are pri- 
 soners, and so shall you be, base scoundrel and 
 woman robber ! I know you now — Dick Bar- 
 rel !" 
 
 " Then you know too much — your fate be on 
 your own head 1" saying which, he pulled a pistol 
 from his pocket, and fired, then jumping on his 
 horse, rode rapidly away. The ball passed 
 through Harry's hat, grazing his head, which 
 stunned him for an instant, and he fell back- 
 wards into Ned's arms. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 221 
 
 " Oh, my dear master's killed !" cried Ned ; 
 *' help, John Harding !" Quickly placing him 
 on the ground, Ned felt for the wound, where 
 the blood trickled down his m.aster's face, but 
 none could he discover. " He ain't killed yet — 
 quick, John, and get your bottle out, he'll soon 
 come to again, he's only fainting, but by Jingo ! 
 'twas a near shave !" 
 
 John Harding, who liked a drop of something 
 good, soon produced his flask of brandy and 
 water, when pouring some down Harry's throat, 
 he soon began to revive, so did the other two 
 robbers, one of whom springing to his legs, 
 dealt Ned a thundering crack on the head with 
 the butt end of his pistol, which laid him beside 
 his master, but John Harding's stout blackthorn 
 stick fell in return on the robber's sconce, level- 
 ling him also in the dust. 
 
 " Lie there, you scoundrel !" shouted John, 
 now flourishing his cane about. " I'm master 
 of the field ; move another foot, and I'll blow 
 your brains out." 
 
 He with the broken arm took the hint, and 
 
222 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 the other heeded it not ; but Will's prisoner was 
 becoming fractious, and he could not hold him. 
 
 " Here, then, Will," cried John, handing a 
 cocked pistol, **put that ball into his carcase, if 
 he moves hand or foot. They have nearly killed 
 Master Harry between them, and we need not 
 be very particular." 
 
 Harry Howard was by this time roused from 
 his stupor, and sprang to his legs. 
 
 " Hurrah !" cried John, " the battle's won ! 
 and now we'll bind our prisoners ; but keep a 
 watch on that black rascal there, sir, while I 
 wake up Ned, who's had a settler from him 
 already." 
 
 During this short but sharp skirmish, Mr. 
 Selwyn had closed the carriage door and drawn 
 up the windows, and Miss Maitland, overcome 
 with terror and the exertion, to free herself from 
 the ruffian's grasp, lay back almost senseless in 
 her mother's arms, until aroused by the report 
 of the pistol and Ned's words, " My dear master 
 is killed !" As these words fell on her ear, she 
 again swooned, and sunk powerless on the seat, 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 223 
 
 where she lay, as if dead, for several minutes. 
 On recovering consciousness, her first exclama- 
 tion was, '' Oh, mamma ! they have killed him ! 
 my noble, generous preserver ! Let me see him 
 once more!" she cried frantically, "perhaps he 
 is not dead; I may assist' him yet; pray let 
 me go !" 
 
 " Stay, my dear child," said Mrs. Selwyn, 
 " you can do no good ; your father will get out." 
 
 At this moment Harry approached the car- 
 riage door. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Selwyn, let down the window," 
 cried he ; " the rogues are vanquished." 
 
 " Oh, thank Heaven !" exclaimed Miss Mait- 
 land, " that is Mr. Howard's voice ! pray let 
 down the window ; thank God he is pre- 
 served !" 
 
 It were useless to attempt depicting the joy 
 of Mrs. Selwyn and her daughter at this unex- 
 pected deliverance, and their tears fell apace 
 w^hen thanking their brave defender, whose life 
 had been so nearly sacrificed in their preservation 
 from outrage. 
 
224 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Now, then," said Harr}'-, " we will soon set 
 you all right again on your journey, and then 
 bid you farewell." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Howard," exclaimed both 
 ladies, "pray go with us to the next town, 
 where we shall stay the night ; indeed you must ; 
 we shall not feel safe without your protection." 
 
 " Very well, it shall be as you desire ; but 
 first I must look to the prisoners and the 
 horses." 
 
 At this moment the sound of a horn fell on 
 his ear, and a night coach came galloping up. 
 
 " Hold hard !" cried Harry to the coachman, 
 " there is no room to pass yet." 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ?" asked Jack 
 Sporsen. 
 
 " Matter enough for once," replied Harry ; 
 " but can you take two outsides ?" 
 
 " All right, sir ; plenty of room." 
 
 " Here, then, guards get down and take these 
 two villains up behind, and put them in the 
 Angel Tap with the constable till I arrive. One 
 has got his arm broken in this devil's play, and 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 225 
 
 the other a ball through his leg, so send for a 
 surgeon to attend them." 
 
 The two men were then hoisted on the roof, 
 Will's prisoner consigned to the rumble behind 
 with John Harding, Ned and Will being ordered 
 to follow with the three horses left (the other 
 two belonging to the robbers having made their 
 escape), and Harry Howard gladly accepted the 
 vacant seat offered him in the carriage. These 
 arrangements being made. Jack mounted his 
 box, and sending his team along at a rattling 
 pace to make up tor lost time, in half an hour 
 drew up at the Castle in Marlborough. Waiters 
 and ostlers rushed to the door, at the loud and 
 prolonged blasts of the guard's horn as they 
 approached the house, and Mr. Carter, the land- 
 lord, also came out at the summons. 
 
 " Here, sir," said Jack, " there's been the devil 
 to pay on Chilmark Down — old Mr. Selwyn's 
 four-in-hand stopped by highwaymen, but, lucky 
 for him, Mr. Harry Howard was at hand. We've 
 got two of the rogues up behind, and you are to 
 have half-a-dozen bed-rooms ready and supper 
 
 VOL. I, Q 
 
226 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 for ten, in a pig's whisper ; and Bob (turning 
 to the ostler), stalls for seven horses — that's all ; 
 let go their heads, for I'm all behind time ;" and 
 away rattled Jack. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The sensations of Miss Maitland and Harry 
 Howard, when seated by each other's side, nnay 
 be easier imagined than described. In effect, 
 they were too overwhelming for utterance, and 
 their hands remained locked in each other for 
 several moments, the pressure returned from 
 each telling more than language could express. 
 But Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn were earnest and 
 eager in their inquiries about the perpetrators of 
 this daring outrage : and although Harry's sus- 
 picions were confirmed by Dick Darrell's ap- 
 pearance as leader in the fray, he thought it at 
 present more prudent to conceal them from Mr. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Selwyn ; he therefore evaded giving any decided 
 opinion, saying the fullest investigation should 
 be made the next day into the matter. 
 
 " But how extraordinary that you happened 
 to be here, Mr. Howard," said Mr. Selwyn ; to 
 which he replied — 
 
 " I and my servant were on our road this 
 morning, when I called at Eim Grove, to see a 
 friend on the Downs, living within a mile of 
 the spot on which you were stopped, and on 
 our return we were fortunate enough to 
 arrive just in time to save you from further 
 violence." 
 
 As they were approaching the old town of 
 Marlborough, and just passing the first lamp, 
 Mrs. Selwyn, who was seated opposite Harry, 
 suddenly exclaimed, — " Good gracious ! Mr. 
 Howard, your face is covered with blood and 
 soot. I fear you are seriously injured." 
 
 " Oh no," replied Harry, " only a scratch 
 I got from that villain's pistol, which 
 was discharged so near, that the powder has 
 blackened my face ; but we shall all be the better 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 229 
 
 for a little soap and water presently," he added, 
 in a gay tone. " There are no lives lost, thank 
 God ! but John and Ned have come in for their 
 share of knocks and bruises, as well as my- 
 self" 
 
 As the carriage stopped at the hotel, the steps 
 were instantly let down, and Harry springing 
 out, nearly upset the old waiter, who was ob- 
 sequiously bowing at the door. 
 
 " Lauks ! Master Harry," he exclaimed, 
 "what a figure you be looking, as if you'd 
 been up the chimney." 
 
 " Never mind a little soot, John ; we're all 
 right except a scratch or two, and that's more 
 than I calculated on an hour ago." 
 
 Having assisted the ladies from the carriage, 
 attention was directed to his prisoner, who being 
 conducted into a room by John Harding, he 
 thus addressed : — 
 
 " Your master has escaped ; but I know him 
 well. Make a clean breast of all, or your doom 
 is sealed. By a full confession to me, within 
 an hour, your life shall be spared ; but on no 
 
230 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 other condition. — Now, take him away, John, 
 and guard him well." 
 
 At the appointed time the man was brought 
 before Mr. Selwyn and Harry, who took down 
 his confession in writing. It amounted to this, 
 that he was employed by Dick Darrell, with 
 others, to assist in carrying off the young 
 lady. 
 
 " Where was she to be carried to ?" asked 
 Harry. 
 
 " Penton Park, sir. 
 
 " Who was with your master this evening, 
 before you set out on this business ?" 
 
 The man hesitated. 
 
 " Speak, you scoundrel !" said Harry, " or I'll 
 hang you — the names instantly." 
 
 " Mr. George Selwyn and Macneil." 
 
 " Just as I thought — the gipsy's right," said 
 Harry, jumping up, and pacing the room in 
 great agitation. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn looked aghast. " Do you mean 
 to say my son was at Penton Park this even- 
 ing ?" nervously enquired he. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 231 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the man, " he was — I know 
 him well, he's been often there." 
 
 "And do you believe he helped to plan this 
 outrage on my daughter-in-law ?" 
 
 The man was silent. 
 
 " Answer the question," said Harry. 
 
 " Yes sir, I do." 
 
 *' Sign your name, Mike Meadows, at the 
 bottom of this paper," said Harry. " I know 
 you better than you thought, and lucky for you 
 you speak the truth." 
 
 The man obeyed, with a searching look at 
 Harry. 
 
 " Now, John Harding, take him away, and 
 give him some supper." 
 
 " Don't put me in prison, sir," cried Mike, 
 imploringly. " I've got a wife and young family, 
 and never will I serve such a master again. Only 
 pass it over this time, Master Harry, and I'll 
 serve you to my dying day — I won't try to 
 escape, sir, indeed I won't, and I'll tell more of 
 their goings on at that bad place." 
 
 " Enough, Mike, your life is in my hands — 
 
232 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 knowing this, you may be trusted. Now, mark 
 me well, I take you at your word — you are free 
 — obey my orders, and you are henceforth ray 
 servant. Go and dress your horse ; he is mine 
 now, and you will receive my further orders to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The man fell on his knees, bursting into tears, 
 and cried — 
 
 " Oh, Master Harry, you have saved my poor 
 wife and children from the workhouse." 
 
 " There, Mike, that will do, now leave us." 
 
 As the door closed, Mr. Selwyn exclaimed — 
 
 "Can this be all true, Mr. Howard? Can 
 my son George be engaged in such a monstrous 
 and barbarous act as this ?" 
 
 " Too true, I fear, sir," replied Harry ; " and 
 for your sake, we must make as light of this 
 business as we can. I dreaded it would turn 
 out thus, knowing how intimate George is with 
 that lawless fellow Dick Darrell, and Macneil." 
 
 On the following morning the constable 
 rushed down to the Castle in a great fright, 
 saying that the lock-up had been broken open 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 233 
 
 during the night, and the prisoners had made 
 their escape. 
 
 " Well," said Harry, " it does not signify so 
 much now, as 1 have one here, who has turned 
 king's evidence, and I know their leader." 
 
 After hreakfast, whilst Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn 
 were closetted in their room, talking over the 
 affair of the previous night. Miss Maitland 
 and Harry were enjoying a most agreeable pro- 
 menade in the gardens and grounds of the old 
 Castle Hotel, and having climbed to the top of 
 the large mound, were now engaged in earnest 
 conversation ; Harry related his interview with 
 the gipsy, who had been the means of enabling 
 him to defeat the machinations of George Sel- 
 wyn and Macneil. 
 
 " Oh !" she exclaimed, " I have always 
 dreaded their revenge since that affair with 
 Macneil ; but I never could have believed them 
 so heartless and cruel. But for you, my gene- 
 rous deliverer, I should now be in the power of 
 those wretches.'* 
 
 " And yet it is not long ago," said he, " that 
 
234 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 you doubted Harry Howard's friendship, and his 
 watchfid care over you — you will believe him 
 now, I hope." 
 
 " Yes, yes !" she exclaimed ; " you are indeed 
 my guardian angel, and I am most grateful for 
 your protection." 
 
 " Gratitude is not the only sentiment Harry 
 would wish you to express and feel towards 
 him," taking her hand in his ; " but more I 
 will not ask now, until you find me deserving 
 your implicit confidence." 
 
 " That," she replied blushing, and casting her 
 eyes on the ground, " you have deserved and 
 obtained already." 
 
 " Then can I desire no greater earthly bless- 
 ing," said Harry ; " every wish of my heart is 
 now fully gratified." 
 
 The voice of John Harding at this moment 
 was heard shouting his name in the garden, 
 and farther explanations broken off, as they 
 hastened down the hill to meet him. 
 
 " Master has ordered the carriage round, 
 Miss, in half an hour," said John, "and 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 235 
 
 can't think what's become of you and Mr. 
 Howard." 
 
 Harry, on re-entering the hotel, explained to 
 Mrs. Selwyn that they had taken a walk to the 
 top of the mound to see the view, which seemed 
 satisfactory ; and turning to Mr. Selwyn, inquired 
 his wishes as to the perpetrators of this outrage, 
 observing — 
 
 "The leader, believing he killed me last 
 night, has of course already fled the country, 
 and the crime itself, without any death, is suf- 
 ficient to transport him, and most of those con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Selwyn, " we will talk 
 it over again to-night, with Mary, and write you 
 fully to-morrow on the subject." 
 
 " Then I must wish you good bye, for the 
 present," said Harry, " as I must return home ;" 
 and shaking hands with both, hof ed no further 
 interruption would delay their journey. Harry 
 left the room, but lingered m the hall, until he 
 saw Miss Maitland descending the staircase. 
 
 A few brief words were exchanged between 
 
236 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 them, with a long pressure of the hand, when 
 Harry tore himself away, and rushed across 
 the yard to the stables. In an hour from this 
 time, he was again cantering over the Chilmark 
 Downs on his homeward track, with Ned, and 
 his late prisoner Mike, at a respectful distance 
 behind, laughing and joking at their last night's 
 adventure. 
 
 We will now, with Mike's assistance, unravel 
 the mystery of the plot, in which his master had 
 taken so conspicuous a part. 
 
 Dick Darrell was the eldest son of old Squire 
 Darrell, of Penton Park — of good and ancient 
 lineage; but Dick's father, by marrying his 
 cook, had cut himself off from all polite society, 
 and addicted himself so much to the bottle, that 
 his earthly career terminated soon after the 
 coming of age of his hopeful heir. Dick, on 
 succeeding to the family estate, lashed out in 
 every direction like a vicious horse, and having 
 from boyhood been chiefly associated with grooms 
 and keepers, his ideas of gentlemanly or moral 
 conduct were of a very lax order. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 237 
 
 " Birds of a feather flock together ;" and from 
 meeting George Selwyn and Macneil in the 
 hunting field, the two soon became fast friends, 
 Selwyn and Macneil often spending weeks to- 
 gether at Penton Park. Dick's lawless acts had 
 already obtained an unenviable notoriety, but 
 from the old house being surrounded by a deep 
 moat, with a draw-bridge at one side only, 
 neither constable nor sheriff's officers could 
 effect an entrance; the interior being also 
 guarded by large and savage dogs. Two 
 younger brothers also resided under the same 
 roof, whose chief pride consisted in being at the 
 head of a desperate band of poachers, who, 
 from their numbers and daring acts, were the 
 terror of the neighbourhood. Thus much, as a 
 short account of Dick's parentage and charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 About a week previous to the attempted ab- 
 duction of Miss Maitland, Dick, Macneil, and 
 George Selwyn were engaged in their usual deep 
 potations after dinner, when the former, turning 
 to Macneil, said — 
 
238 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Well, Tom, have you got over that love fit 
 of yours, with George's sister-in-law ?" 
 ,' " Oh yes, confound the girl ! she served me a 
 pretty trick, and I should like to pay her off 
 for it." 
 
 " Then, why don't you, Tom ?-— I'll lend a 
 hand, if you are in earnest." 
 
 " But how, Dick ? I don't see my way at 
 all." 
 
 " Then, I do — so here goes. I'll carry her 
 off, and bring her to this old fortress of mine, 
 and here you shall keep her till you get her to 
 marry you^ and secure her fortune — for devil a 
 soul could find her out here, or get her away 
 either." 
 
 " Hang it !" cried George ; " a capital plan, 
 rU swear ; she'll soon"; knock under in this old 
 place, with bats and owls to talk to only, and be 
 glad to marry Tom ; and I'll engage to get over 
 my old father. Well, Tom, what do you say ?" 
 asked Dick. " I will perform Bluebeard — you 
 the Knight, to discover the damsel, and effect 
 her release on promise of marriage." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 239 
 
 " A capital trick — hah ! hah ! pass the bottle, 
 
 George. Here's success to the plan." 
 
 " It's all very fine," said Macneil, " but I 
 
 don't put my neck into a hempen collar for any 
 girl." 
 
 " Ho ! ho !" shouted Dick Darrell, " that's a 
 good 'un ! how can your precious neck be en- 
 dangered ? you don't appear at all. I run the 
 risk; but come, it's a deuced good lark, any 
 way, and I'll have the girl myself, so that's soon 
 settled. You'll help me, George, w^on't you ?" 
 
 " Yes, Dick, with all my heart." 
 
 " I won't agree to that, though," said Mac- 
 neil ; " my claim comes fii'st." 
 
 *' Then you will agree to this, perhaps : pay 
 me down five hundred pounds if you marry her, 
 and I'll run the gauntlet." 
 
 " Agreed," said Macneil ; " that I'll stand to." 
 
 " Very well, then it's a bargain : now give 
 your hand, and pass the bottle. You shall stay 
 here incog., and see all fair when I bring her 
 back. George and I will arrange the rest." 
 
 It was then decided that George Selwyn 
 
240 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 should watch the movements of the family, and 
 give timely notice of their journeyings. 
 
 " Well," said George, " that's all right now ; 
 I shall have my revenge, and you, too, Tom, on 
 that fellow, Harry Howard. We can make sure 
 of Miss Mary and her money, and the old man 
 will come down handsomely, too, I warrant, to 
 hush up the business. That wild chap. Brown, 
 
 played the same trick with Miss P , across 
 
 yonder, and the old governor was glad enough 
 to pay him a good sum down to take the 
 damaged goods off his hands — ha ! ha !" 
 
 The day following the concoction of this ne- 
 farious plot, George Selwyn returned home with 
 Macneil to make the necessary inquiries ; and it 
 so happened, while these two worthies were dis- 
 cussing their plans in an arbour in the garden, 
 bordering on an old green lane, the gipsy was 
 passing by at the time, and overhearing the 
 name of Harry Howard, crouched behind the 
 bank, and thus becoming cognizant of their in- 
 tentions, she loitered in the neighbourhood of 
 Elm Grove, to warn Harry of his danger. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 241 
 
 George Selwyn having obtained the desired 
 information when his father would leave Elm 
 Grove, wrote Dick Darrell all particulars, and 
 as we have seen, under the pretence of business, 
 delayed Mr. Selwyn's departure until the dusk 
 of evening should favour their designs; but 
 both he and Macneil being of too cautious a 
 nature to compromise themselves more than was 
 absolutely necessary, and it being agreed that 
 their plans could be more plausibly worked out 
 by their absence from the scene of action, the 
 execution of this daring deed devolved solely 
 on Darrell, Selwyn and Macneil lying perdue 
 in Penton Park, until his return. 
 
 The two conspirators were waiting in nervous 
 apprehension in a back room, overlooking the 
 entrance to the Park, with the window partly 
 opened, when the furious galloping of a horse 
 struck upon their ear, and in a few seconds 
 Dick Darrell stood before them, pale and trem- 
 bling from excitement. 
 
 " D !" said he, with an oath, " the bird 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 has escaped, my rascals are taken prisoners, and 
 I have killed Harry Howard." 
 
 " The devil you have !" exclaimed George 
 Selwyn ; " then you have made a pretty hash 
 of it, indeed !" 
 
 AU was then told, and Dick Darrell, dreading 
 the consequences, swallowed down a goblet of 
 wine, and having packed up a few things in his 
 valise, jumped on a fresh horse, and rode off for 
 London, en route for the continent, George 
 Selwyn giving him an introduction to a friend 
 in Hamburgh, where he was to await further 
 intelligence. 
 
 Dick Darrell had no sooner left his paternal 
 roof, than Selwyn and Macneil followed his ex- 
 ample, and rode home as fast as possible to 
 show^ themselves in the neighbourhood early the 
 next morning, George having previously told 
 his wife that he was going to dine with a friend 
 quite in the contrary direction to Penton Park, 
 and should not return till late at night, or per- 
 haps the next day. 
 
 On the second morning a loving epistle was 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 243 
 
 received by George from his father, thanking 
 him for his friend's polite attention to him on 
 the Monday night, and hinting that as the ser- 
 vant who had been made prisoner had confessed 
 his son's participation, with his master, Darrell, 
 in the plot to carry off Miss Maitland, he should 
 recommend him to make a rather prolonged tour 
 on the continent with his family. This hint 
 was most dutifully and unhesitatingly acted upon ; 
 and George, accompanied by his friend Macneil, 
 fled precipitately, leaving his wife and children to 
 follow, alleging that particular business required 
 his immediate presence in Holland ; and Mrs. 
 George Selwyn being a native of that country, 
 no great inducement was requisite to hasten 
 their departure from England. 
 
 Dick Darrell did not think it safe to shew 
 his face again at Penton Park until a twelve- 
 month after his daring exploit, when he was 
 assured no further steps would be taken by Mr. 
 Selwyn, who, to screen his son, let the matter 
 drop, on the condition that George should hence- 
 forth reside permanently abroad. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Darrell felt relieved from a load of appre- 
 hension, when, joined by his friends in Hol- 
 land, he was assured of Harry Howard's ex- 
 istence. 
 
 " Confound the fellow !" he exclaimed, " he 
 is a brave lad, and right glad am I his blood 
 does not rest on my head ; but being pressed so 
 hardly, I was obliged to fire, or he would have 
 knocked me over. Barring his interference, 
 however, it would have been a glorious spree, 
 and old Selwyn must have knocked under ; as 
 it is, there is no harm done, and I shall be off 
 home again." 
 
 "Better wait a little, Dick," said George, 
 " until the old man has cooled down." 
 
 " Not I, George ; we have him safe enough, 
 since he believes his hopeful son and heir is 
 one of the party. Honour and respectability of 
 family, and that sort of thing, shuts his mouth 
 at once. By Gad ! how his teeth chattered that 
 night, when I held the pistol to his head ! Why, 
 the women showed ten times more pluck !" 
 
 On Harry's return to Beechwood, the news 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 245 
 
 of his adventure spread far and wide, and his 
 marriage with Miss Maitland was fully settled 
 by the gossips, who decided it was impossible 
 he could now sue in vain. 
 
246 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was now the middle of May. The plea- 
 sure-seekers had dispersed in various directions ; 
 some to town, some to the sea-side, others to 
 their country seats, or to the continent. But 
 another set of visitors were attracted to the City 
 of Waters, to recruit their enfeebled constitu- 
 tions, by large draughts from its far-famed salu- 
 brious springs. Of this class was an old and 
 much-esteemed friend of Harry's father, who 
 generally paid an annual visit, accompanied by 
 his wife and two daughters. Colonel Stewart 
 was a gentleman of large fortune, high family 
 connections, and always moving in the first 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 247 
 
 circles, as well as a member of parliament, 
 having represented for many years one of his 
 county boroughs without opposition. The meet- 
 ing of the two old friends was always looked 
 forward to with equal pleasure by both, and 
 Harry was detained at home by his father iat 
 these re-unions, to attend the ladies in their riding 
 excursions about the country. The eldest, now 
 about thirty, without any great pretensions to 
 beauty, was of a most amiable and engaging 
 disposition, and devotedly attached to her father, 
 on whose account she had refused several eligible 
 offers of marriage. In fact, her resolution had 
 been taken, and firmly adhered to, of never 
 quitting her paternal roof as long as her father 
 lived. Charlotte, the youngest sister, and some 
 years her junior, was very fascinating in her 
 manners, of finely-formed and delicate features, 
 sweet and cheerful disposition, and deservedly 
 admired in the highest circles. In their daily 
 rides Harry was her usual companion, and his 
 attentions to his daughter were observed by Co- 
 lonel Stewart with much satisfaction, as he en- 
 
248 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 tertained a very high opinion of Harry from his 
 respectful behaviour to himself, as well as the 
 total absence of all affectation or dandyism in 
 his manners. 
 
 From the long and stedfast friendship which 
 had existed for so many years between the two 
 fathers, an alliance between their children was 
 not only approved of, but desired ; and Harry's 
 attentions became the subject of conversation 
 most agreeable to both. — In whatever direction 
 our hopes and wishes may turn, there are sel- 
 dom wanting some circumstances to confirm us 
 in the idea that they will be realized, and so it 
 was in this case ; the two old friends congra- 
 tulated themselves that Harry's behaviour to 
 Charlotte proceeded from a stronger impulse 
 than mere politeness, and that his heart was 
 most decidedly engaged — and so it was — they 
 had only mistaken the person. 
 
 Parents, and the world at large, are too much 
 taken by appearances. It is nothing extraordi- 
 nary that young people of similar tastes and 
 dipositions, when thrown much together, should 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 249 
 
 manifest great pleasure in each other's society, 
 which is too often construed into a different and 
 warmer feeling, and on this rock also many a 
 young and artless girl has spht, by a man's 
 attentions being taken as a sure proof of his 
 affections. 
 
 Harry was no flirt ; his behaviour to Char- 
 lotte was dictated by a great regard for her 
 father, as well as by the pleasure he felt in her 
 society. There was no love in the case, and his 
 respectful and almost distant manner some- 
 times, he thought, would be sufficient to satisfy 
 the young lady that he never contemplated any- 
 thing beyond common attention. 
 
 About a month had passed in this manner, 
 diversified with dinner-parties, a pic-nic or two, 
 and the usual summer amusements, when the 
 Bath races commenced. A large riding party 
 was formed for this occasion, including Harry 
 and Robert Howard. They were leisurely ascend- 
 ing the hill leading to the race-course, when 
 the carriage of Mr. Selwyn, with Miss Maitland 
 and other ladies inside, passed. Not knowing 
 
250 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 of their return, Harry was so taken by surprise? 
 that he had only time to take off his hat in 
 token of recognition, as they passed him ; but 
 Colonel Stewart was sufficiently near, riding by 
 his side, to remark the colour which suffused 
 Harry's face and brow. 
 
 " That's a smart equipage, Harry, and some 
 gay young ladies inside. They are friends of 
 yours, I perceive." 
 
 " Yes, sir — our neighbours. I did not know 
 they had retured from London." 
 
 " A pretty girl you bowed to, Master Harry," 
 (with a searching glance). 
 
 " Some think so, sir," was the reply. 
 
 Colonel Stewart somehow fancied Harry 
 thought so too, but no further remark was 
 made. 
 
 Harr}^, as soon as practicable, made his escape 
 from his party, and of course offered his sincere 
 congratulations to Miss Maitland on her safe 
 return, of which he said until that day he had 
 not been apprised. A seat was offered him in 
 the carriage, with champagne and refreshments 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 251 
 
 usual on such occasions. Harry, giving his 
 horse to the servant, did not require a second 
 invitation, but jumped up at once on the box, 
 delighted at this unexpected meeting. He was 
 occupied in an agreeable tete-d-tete, how long' 
 we will not say, when observing Colonel Stewart 
 passing by, with a particular look at his fair 
 companion, Harry abruptly said, — 
 
 " Oh, there is my party, whom I promised to 
 escort to and from the races. I must be off, so 
 good-bye for the present. I shall soon see you 
 again." 
 
 " But who are your friends ?" she enquired. 
 
 " Colonel Stewart, my father's oldest college 
 chum, and his two daughters." 
 
 " Of course," she added, rather piqued, " I 
 cannot expect to detain you from them." 
 
 Harry did not quite like the remark — -but 
 offering his hand, left the carriage. When he 
 was gone, Miss Dundonald said — 
 
 " I suppose those Stewarts are rather grand 
 people, as they have two servants behind them 
 with cockades." 
 
252 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Yes, I believe so," replied Mary. " I have 
 heard they are very old friends of the Howards, 
 and very rich." 
 
 "That was a nice-looking girl Harry was 
 riding with," replied Miss Dundonald. 
 
 " Oh yes," added Miss Maitland with a sigh, 
 " and he appeared very attentive." 
 
 "Not very, my dear. I did not observe 
 that." 
 
 A few days after this occurrence, the Co- 
 lonel resolved to ascertain his young friend's 
 feelings towards his daughter; and when 
 they were together, broached the subject, by 
 saying — 
 
 " Harry, do your thoughts ever run on 
 naatrimony ?" 
 
 "Why, sir, they may sometimes; but my 
 marrying for some years, is out of the question. 
 My father would not hear of it." 
 
 " I am not quite of your opinion, for I believe 
 he would," rephed the Colonel, " provided the 
 lady was an eligible one. I know one he would 
 at once accept as a daughter." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 253 
 
 " Indeed !" said Harry ; " and pray may I ask 
 who that is ?" 
 
 Without further circumlocution, the Colonel 
 then cautiously and delicately explained his own 
 and Mr. Howard's wishes with regard to his 
 daughter, saying, " that he admired his manly 
 character so much, that he should be proud to 
 call him his son-in-law." 
 
 Harry was so much taken by surprise at this 
 unexpected proposition, that he was unable at first 
 to answer. He was certainly in no very enviable 
 state of mind, under so many conflicting feelings, 
 — duty to his father — respect for the Colonel — 
 delicacy towards his daughter — love for another. 
 It was not from hesitation how to act, but from 
 dread of inflicting pain on those he so highly 
 regarded, which kept him silent. 
 
 " Well, Harry," said the Colonel, " what am 
 I to augur from your silence ?" 
 
 "That I feel more deeply than I can find words 
 to express the undeserved preference you have 
 so kindly shown to me, and the honour you have 
 done me ; but, although I entertain the highest 
 
254 THE SaUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 esteem for your fair and amiable daughter, I 
 would not outrage any woman's feelings by offer- 
 ing my hand without my whole heart ; and that 
 I cannot affirm to be at my own disposal." 
 
 " Then I conclude you are engaged to 
 another '^^ 
 
 " No r, I am not — but, with equal candour, 
 I will a( t that my affections are, although no 
 avowal ] been made of them." 
 
 " Wc' . Harry, I am sorry to find this is so — 
 but perhaps it is not a very serious case, at 
 least I hope not — boy's love only, very likely ; — 
 but seriously speaking, for I am in earnest, if 
 you will propose for Charlotte within six months, 
 you shall receive with her on your marriage-day 
 thirty thousand pounds, and that is ten thousand 
 more than I should give with her to any other 
 man." 
 
 "Your extreme kindness and generosity," 
 replied Harry, deeply and painfully affected, 
 " quite overpower me." 
 
 " Never mind, my boy, take time to consider, 
 and I hope second thoughts may prove the best." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 255 
 
 Thus ended the conversation. 
 
 The sportsman's season was now approach- 
 ing, and a college acquaintance of Harry's, 
 nearly connected with Mr. Selwyn's family, 
 became a visitor at Elm Grove. Mr. Roberts was 
 of good family, quiet and unassuming manners, 
 and of cheerful disposition, but with rather 
 romantic ideas. He wished also to be considered 
 a good sportsman, which, unfortunately for Harry, 
 he was not. 
 
 The two friends soon renewed their acquaint- 
 ance, and Roberts could not conceal his admira- 
 tion for his host's daughter. 
 
 " Oh !" he said, " she is the most delightful, 
 charming girl I have ever met, and Scotch also — 
 you know^ my enthusiasm about Scotland." 
 
 " Quite well, Roberts, and the song you were 
 always attempting to sing at Oxford, but never 
 could accomplish, * Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace 
 bled.' " 
 
 " Ah ! I did break down occasionally in the 
 second verse; but really, Harry, this girl has 
 taken entire possession of my heart, I can think 
 
256 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 of nothing else. — Marry her, I must, and shall 
 propose at once." 
 
 " And be rejected." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Women are not to be taken by storm in 
 this manner. You have only known her a fort- 
 night, and besides, she has several admirers 
 already. — Don't make a fool of yourself; that's 
 my advice to an old friend." 
 
 The first of September arrived, when Harry 
 had invited Roberts to shoot tvithj but not at 
 him, which unluckily he did, and hit him also 
 pretty smartly. 
 
 Harry did not at all admire Robert's turn-out 
 upon this occasion ; everything was new, down 
 to his shoes and gaiters. He had also a new 
 double-barrelled gun from Manton, with hair 
 triggers, which he handled in anything but an 
 artistic manner. This did not escape Harry's 
 or the keeper's notice, who advised his young 
 master to keep him out of distance when they 
 reached the field. 
 
 This precaution was adopted by Harry for 
 
TRE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 257 
 
 some time ; but as they were crossing a very 
 small enclosure, a covey of partridges suddenly 
 rose, whirling in Harry's direction. Roberts 
 instantly fired, with both eyes shut as he pulled 
 the trigger — the birds pursued their flight un- 
 hai'med. But where was Harry Howard ? 
 Senseless, in the keeper's arms ! This man, 
 with a foreboding of evil, had doggedly persisted 
 in keeping close to his young master during this 
 day's shooting, and was just in time to prevent 
 his falling to the ground — kneeling down, he 
 was supporting his master's bleeding head on 
 his lap, when this scene was presented to the 
 view^ of Mr. Roberts, who, turning round to an 
 attendant, quickly asked what had happened. 
 
 " Enough for once, sir," said the man, in a 
 sulky voice. "You've shot young master — 
 that's all. Why do you stand gaping there 
 like an oaf?" said the man ; " come and help 
 me, can't ye ?" 
 
 In a moment he was kneeling by his side, in 
 all the agony of despair, wringing his hands 
 and sobbing convulsively. 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
258 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " That's enough," said the keeper ; " hand 
 out your flask of brandy-and-water, and be oiF 
 for a doctor — that's summut for you to do — 
 mischief enough you've done already, and I al- 
 ways thought you would. Why, the man's in a 
 maze. Here, John, give us the flask out of his 
 pocket, and be ofl" with the pony for the 
 doctor." 
 
 By the application of the stimulant, Harry 
 began to awake from his stupor, and tried to 
 rouse himself up. 
 
 " Stop a bit, my dear young master, have 
 another pull at the flask " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter !" enquired 
 Harry. 
 
 " Ah ! it's all right now, but by jingo, I 
 thought as how that fool had adone for ye. 
 There's a hole through your hat as big as your 
 fist, and lucky the head wasn't there ; but he's 
 peppered you about the face and forehead pretty 
 smartly." 
 
 The fact was, that at about thirty yards' dis- 
 tance, the body of the charge had passed through 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 259 
 
 the upper part of Harry's hat ; several of the 
 stray shots, however, penetrated deep into his 
 forehead and face, and but for his standing in 
 an oblique direction, some of these v^ould have 
 entered the brain. Although not seriously hurt, 
 Harry felt stupified and confused, and a carriage 
 being obtained, he was conveyed home, and 
 obliged to remain quiet for some days; but 
 the shots were too deeply imbedded in the bone 
 tp be extracted. 
 
 Roberts returned to Elm Grove in a melan- 
 holy state of mind, and with shame and sorrow 
 made a full confession of this unfortunate finale 
 to his first day's partridge shooting. Miss 
 Maitland was so much agitated, that to conceal 
 her emotions she sought her own room, being 
 assured by Roberts that Harry was in no danger. 
 There was a dinner-party that evening, to which 
 Harry had been invited, and having promised 
 Mrs. Selwyn some partridges for the occasion, 
 the keeper was sent over with the birds, and his 
 compliments. 
 
 " Really," said Mrs. Selwyn, " this is very 
 
 s 2 
 
260 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 kind and considerate of Mr. Howard, when he 
 must be suffering so much pain." 
 
 Miss Maitland, on reaching her room, sunk 
 into a chair, her heart beating almost to suffo- 
 cation, with contending emotions. She thought 
 of Harry's narrow escape from a sudden and 
 violent death with horror, but thankfulness for 
 his preservation predominated, and sinking down 
 on her knees, she returned thanks to Heaven, 
 that his life had been spared, and this bitter 
 trial of an earthly separation removed. When 
 nearly losing those dear to us, we then experience 
 the depth of our affection ; and for the first time 
 Mie now felt how dearly she loved, and loved 
 only, Harry Howard. His early friendship, his 
 constant and ever-watchful solicitude about her, 
 all rushed at once upon her mind, and " yet^ 
 perhaps," she murmured to herself, " he may 
 regard me only as a sister." Even so, she felt 
 content — she could never marry another. The 
 advice of her cousin had never been forgotten — 
 " Never give your heart without your judgment^ 
 and never give your hand without your heart" 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 261 
 
 To that dear cousin she had been also indebted 
 for that firmness of principle and complacency 
 of character so unusual in girls of her age. One 
 lesson, which had been constantly impressed upon 
 her young mind, was still retained and acted 
 upon — " Self-examination of her daily conduct 
 before retiring to rest." 
 
 The education of girls in the present day is 
 almost entirely superficial. They are taught to 
 dance, play, and sing, to read and speak fluently, 
 French, Italian, and German. All these accom- 
 plishments tend to one object chiefly, the out- 
 ward adorning of the person ; but w-here is the 
 inwai'd adorning of the mind ? — that is scarcely 
 ever duly considered, as the most important of 
 all, and it becomes in consequence a complete 
 chaos ; — the surface of the statue is finely 
 polished, beautiful to the eye, perhaps elegant, 
 fascinating ; but what is the interior ? — the cas- 
 ket only, without the jewel. 
 
 I would not be thought unjustly censorious — 
 but what is the reality — what does every-day 
 experience teach us of women ? — With all the 
 
262 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 personal attractions to engage, many, alas too 
 many, possess not the hearts or minds to retain 
 the affections of a sensible man. They are 
 early taught to consider a good marriage or 
 establishment as the great desideratum — the 
 only object they should look to in life. Money 
 — money, (that curse and bane of humanity, as 
 well as (if rightly used) one of its greatest 
 blessings,) enters alone into their calculations, 
 as if that alone were the antidote to every evil, 
 the universal salve for every malady that flesh is 
 heir to. 
 
 What wonder then, to hear of so many un- 
 happy, and ill-assorted marriages. Coupled, 
 but not matched — the fettered pair, mutually 
 deceiving or deceived, spend a dissatisfied and 
 wretched existence — a bargain has been made, 
 of which one at least is sure to repent, when 
 repentance is unavailing ! But enough of this 
 at present ; — these pages will unfold, not imagi- 
 nary but real tales of some such compacts. 
 
 To return to Mary Maitland — what thought 
 she of that solemn obligation ? Why had she 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 263 
 
 refused the tempting proposals — the flattering 
 attentions — the handsome persons, and large 
 endowments offered her by so many ? Simply 
 because she could not love one of them, as she 
 felt she ought to love her husband — with inten- 
 sity, with devotion, with one solely absorbed and 
 wholly engrossing attachment. 
 
264 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Roberts continued to pay an almost daily 
 visit to Harry until he was sufficiently recovered 
 to leave the house ; but his head and eyesight 
 had been so much affected, that for some months 
 he was unable to face the glare of day, without a 
 shade over his eyes. The pleasure with which 
 Miss Maitland received Roberts upon his return 
 after visiting Harry, was construed by that enthu- 
 siastic young gentleman into a warm feeling 
 towards himself, and led him into the absurd 
 position (when they were sitting in the drawing- 
 room together) of throwing himself at her feet 
 with the most impassioned avowal of his love. 
 There are few things more painful to a right- 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 265 
 
 minded woman than such declarations, to which 
 she can make no return, especially when proceed- 
 ing from one she otherwise respects as a friend. 
 Recovering from her surprise, she requested 
 Mr. Roberts to rise at once, or she must leave 
 the room ; for, being a great favourite with her 
 father-in-law, she wished to avoid wounding his 
 feelings as much as possible; but her quiet, 
 though decided tone of voice when refusing to 
 hear more on such a subject, soon convinced 
 Roberts of the hopelessness of pressing his suit 
 any further. 
 
 '' We shall, I hope," she said, " meet as usual, 
 and as a friend I shall be always happy to regard 
 you ; but I trust your good sense will spare me 
 the repetition of a scene like this." 
 
 Poor Roberts, who possessed a kind and very 
 sensitive heart, burst into tears, and rushed from 
 the room, and on the following day quitted Elm 
 Grove for ever. 
 
 Harry's reception on his first visit was such 
 as to repay him for all the pain he had endured 
 during the last fortnight. Miss Maitland was 
 
266 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 sitting in the drawing-room, working with Miss 
 Dundonald, as he rode past the window, when 
 the sudden exclamation from her friend's lips — 
 " There is Mr. Howard !" caused such a revul- 
 sion in her feelings, that she nearly fainted. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Mary 1" exclaimed Lucy ; 
 " pray compose yourself, or you can go to your 
 room whilst I receive him." 
 
 " No, no. I am very well again now ; it is 
 very foolish, but you know, Lucy, that affair of 
 Mr. Roberts, which papa rather approved of> 
 has quite unnerved me." 
 
 " Sit down, my love, whilst I get my vinai- 
 grette ; I will return in a moment." 
 
 " Oh, Lucy, don't leave me ;" but her friend 
 had vanished, and she was following her, when 
 Harry entered the hall. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Maitland, are you also going to 
 run awav from me, because I am such a 
 fright, as my friends tell me ?" 
 
 She turned immediately, with eyes sparkling 
 through her tears — silently held out her hand, 
 but with such a look of kind, compassionate 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 267 
 
 tenderness, that Harry could only press her 
 hand within his. 
 
 Harry's providential escape formed, of course, 
 the first topic of conversation, and an anxious 
 look was directed to his face, which observing, 
 he said — 
 
 " There is no fear of my beauty being spoilt 
 by these few scars. My cousin Robert might 
 have dreaded their effect, for with him it would 
 have been a serious thing, to be marked as with 
 the small-pox. Our keeper says, I only look as 
 if I had been kicked in the face by his nailed 
 shoes.'* 
 
 " But you must have suffered great pain at 
 first?" 
 
 "The sensation, I must confess," replied 
 Harry, " was far from agreeable ; and if you 
 can fancy red hot pins being thrust into your 
 arm, that is precisely what I experienced from 
 the effects of the shots. But, come, let us 
 change the subject and the scene by taking a 
 stroll through the shubbery." 
 
 As Miss Maitland left the room to prepare 
 
268 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 for their ramble, Robert Howard was announced. 
 On entering, he was rather vexed to find Harry 
 seated there, but quickly recovering himself, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Ah, Harry, I'm glad to find you are in the 
 land of the living still, although that cockney 
 nearly settled your business. If he had peppered 
 me about the face as he did you, I would have 
 given him a sample of the same sort in 
 return." 
 
 " That is, supposing you had been able to do 
 so," said Harry. 
 
 "Well, but this little affair will make you 
 rather more interesting to the ladies, I suppose. 
 A fellow with a scratched finger, or better still, 
 with his arm in a sling and a pale face, beats 
 all the handsome men off the ground. — ' Poor 
 fellow ! how he must suffer — how wretchedly 
 he looks ! how interesting ! how romantic !' and 
 all such nonsense — Pshaw ! how silly girls are ! 
 made up of sentimentality and affectation." 
 
 "Really, Master Bob, your ideas of women 
 are most flattering to the sex. How can such 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 269 
 
 a grand, noble-minded creature as yourself, con- 
 descend to pay them so much attention as you 
 always do ?" 
 
 " Oh !" replied Robert, "just to pass the 
 time. Men of sense regard them in their 
 proper light, as pretty dolls to while away an 
 idle hour; but, like dolls in children's hands, when 
 the paint wears off, they are thrown aside for new 
 and prettier toys." 
 
 " Are you serious, Robert, in what you say ?" 
 
 " Aye, that am I." 
 
 " Then I sincerely pity you, and conclude you 
 never intend to marry." 
 
 " Yes T do, when I can find one to suit me. 
 She must be good looking, as I should not like 
 to have a fright sitting at the head of my table. 
 She must be chatty and agreeable, to entertain 
 my friends, and above all, have plenty of money. 
 As for the rest, she can go her way for amuse- 
 ment and pleasure, as I shall certainly go mine — 
 no billing and cooing for me." 
 
 "A happy woman will be Mrs. Robert 
 Howard," said Harrv, as he rose on the en- 
 
270 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 trance of the ladies, who just then appeared 
 prepared for a walk. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Maitland, how delighted I am to 
 see you !" exclaimed Robert, springing forward ; 
 " really you are quite bewitching in that pretty 
 bonnet — ready for a walk, I see. Pray allow 
 me the honour of escorting you." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you wish it," she replied, 
 rather gravely. 
 
 Robert was ready in a moment to offer his 
 arm on leaving the house, which was politely 
 declined, much to his annoyance. He persisted, 
 however, in keeping by her side for some time, 
 until Harry called her attention to a pretty shrub 
 he wished to know the name of, and taking her 
 aside, whispered — 
 
 " Will you allow me a privilege you have 
 refiised my cousin ?" 
 
 " What is that ?" she inquired. 
 
 *' Your arm, as I feel rather giddy sometimes, 
 and require a little steadying," said Harry ; 
 " but if you think he will be offended, I can 
 walk alone." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 271 
 
 " Oh, I do not regard him ; for, to tell you 
 the truth, I am rather tired of his fine speeches. 
 He must look upon women as very silly, to 
 think they can be always pleased with such 
 nonsense." 
 
 " So he does, I can assure you, in truth ;" 
 and Harry gave her a short account of his con- 
 versation in the drawing-room, as Mr. Robert 
 walked on with an offended and proud air by 
 the side of Miss Dundonald. After a most 
 agreeable promenade through the walks and 
 grounds, the party returned to the house nearly 
 as they had left ; that is, Harry had made no 
 proposal — neither, in truth, did Miss Maitland 
 expect it. She felt every day more assured of 
 his increasing regard for her, and with that con- 
 viction she was quite satisfied and happy. Harry, 
 moreover, with his usual diffidence, dreaded a 
 refusal so much, that he could not muster 
 courage to speak on so serious a subject, until 
 fully satisfied in his own mind that he should 
 not share the fate of others, and be rejected. 
 It must be confessed, also, he was rather parti- 
 
272 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 cular and romantic in his ideas about wonaen ; 
 he would never marry any one whose affections 
 had been previously given to another. He must 
 possess her first and undivided love. This 
 would be rather a difficult point to ascertain. 
 Then she must love him for himself alone, 
 without any mercenary or worldly considera- 
 tions. Her love also for him must be pure as 
 that of an angel. These several points were 
 very difficult of solution, and required time and 
 much observation to be thoroughly ascertained. 
 
 With such ideas, it would be no matter of sur- 
 prise that Harry hesitated to lay open the real 
 state of his heart in his addresses to Miss Mait- 
 land. Though believing her to be all he wished, 
 yet doubts would sometimes arise, and his reso- 
 lution was taken to see her pass through another 
 Bath season, thus affording her an opportunity 
 of being again admired and courted, which would 
 prove if her heart still beat true to him. He 
 had spoken plainly enough by looks, if not by 
 words, of his real feelings towards her. 
 
 All he required now was, confirmation that she 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 273 
 
 preferred him to all and every other. She must 
 be wholly his, or not his at all. The course 
 he pursued might, and probably would have, 
 ended in the loss of one less truly attached to 
 him than Mary Maitland. She was tried, but 
 never found wanting, in her unalterable regard 
 for him. But Harry was tried also. His all 
 was cast upon this die — he never could love 
 another ; and although happiness or misery for 
 life must be the result of this trial, still he 
 thought it must be made some time or other, 
 and better then than later. Had Harry known 
 the hazardous game he was playing, or seen the 
 rock towards which he was drifting, on which 
 the happiness of himself and one dearer than 
 his own life had been so nearly wrecked, he 
 had never risked so dangerous an experiment. 
 Women do, and will, endure almost the loss of 
 everything for the man they love — friends, for- 
 tune, and even life itself are not uncommon 
 sacrifices — but they cannot endure neglect. Many 
 a warm and true-hearted girl, when slighted by 
 the man to whom her first aflfections had been 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 given, has, in a moment of pique and wounded 
 feelings, accepted another, and rendered herself, 
 if not him also, miserable for life. There is a 
 very erroneous opinion that love will spring up 
 after marriage, where it never existed before. 
 Resignation may — that is the proper name to 
 call it by. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The hunting season had now arrived, and as 
 the days shortened, Harry's visits to Elm Grove 
 began to shorten too ; although he called and 
 dined there occasionally, and in his manner was 
 kind and warm-hearted as ever, yet the devotion 
 of an ardent lover was to all outward appearance 
 wanting. The flame, how^ever, kept steadily 
 burning. But Harry exercised great restraint 
 over his feelings, and their true nature was 
 seldom elicited except on emergencies. One 
 soon occurred. Mr. Selwyn had been seized 
 with a sudden attack of illness, which almost 
 baffled the skill of his own medical attendant. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 This news reaching Harry's ears, he was soon 
 in the saddle and full gallop to Elm Grove. 
 On being admitted, he found Miss Maitland 
 alone and in tears. His worst fears were con- 
 firmed — Mr. Selwyn was dangerously ill. Time 
 was precious. 
 
 " Come," said Harry, " don't give way yet ; I 
 know a very clever physician — go and ask your 
 mother at once if she will see him ?" 
 
 She returned with a message that her mother 
 would be most happy if he would come ; a ser- 
 vant could be sent off directly, if Harry would 
 be kind enough to write a line to the doctor. 
 
 " No," said Harry, jumping up from his 
 chair, " servants and notes won't do in such a 
 case as this — I shall go myself." 
 
 "Not in all this heavy rain, I hope, Mr. 
 Howard." 
 
 " Time and tide, my dear Miss Maitland, wait 
 for no man ; a wet jacket is no novelty to a fox- 
 hunter. Good-bye, and keep up your spirits. I 
 shall return as quickly as possible, and I hope 
 with the doctor." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 277 
 
 Harry sped away as riding for life or death. 
 Luckily, it was about the doctor's dinner-hour, 
 and he was at home. Harry would not put up 
 his horse, which he gave to a lad to hold at 
 the door whilst he went in to see the physician, 
 and in a few words told his errand. 
 
 " Pray, my young friend, sit dow^n," said 
 Doctor Salter. 
 
 " Not now, sir ; dawdling won't do." 
 
 " My dinner is just ready ; it won't take me 
 more than ten minutes to discuss that roast 
 fowl," which just then made its appearance on 
 the table. 
 
 " That will keep, sir. Here, John," address- 
 ing the servant, " take it away, and bring your 
 master's great-coat instead, and tell Robert to 
 be round with the carriage in a second." 
 
 " Really, Master Harry," said the good- 
 natured doctor, •' you are making yourself at 
 home ; I should think there must be a young 
 lady in the case, instead of an old gentleman." 
 
 " Perhaps there is," said Harry ; " so come 
 along." 
 
278 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Harry was a great favourite with Dr. Salter, 
 who had attended his family for many years, 
 and seeing his anxiety, complied with his wishes, 
 and set off at once for Elm Grove, Harry riding 
 by the side of the carriage, and pushing on old 
 Robert. They soon reached their destination, 
 and the Doctor was at once ushered into the 
 sick chamber, where he remained for some time 
 while Harry was taking a glass of sherry below, 
 in company with Miss Maitland and Miss Dun- 
 donald. On returning to the drawing-room 
 Harry sprang forward to ask the Doctor how he 
 found his patient. 
 
 " No immediate danger," was the reply ; " but 
 if a change for the worse should take place, send 
 for me again directly; I hope, however, Mr. 
 Selwyn will be better in a few days." 
 
 Dr. Salter having written his prescription, 
 was prevailed upon to take some luncheon, as 
 Harry told Miss Maitland he had spoilt his 
 dinner. A glass or two of wine put him in 
 good humour, when, turning to Miss Maitland, 
 he said — 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 279 
 
 " My friend Harry was in extraordinary haste 
 with me to-day, but I don't wonder at it now," 
 looking archly towards her. " I must give him 
 a piece of advice, however, which I hope you 
 will see is followed, to prevent his being on the 
 sick list also." 
 
 " And what is that. Doctor ?" inquired Harry. 
 
 *' Take off those wet garments without another 
 moment's delay ; you look like a drowned 
 rat." 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing new to me," he replied. 
 
 " Perhaps not," gravely observed the Doctor ; 
 " but riding in wet things, and sitting in them, 
 is attended with very different consequences ; 
 send him home, Miss Maitland, directly, and if 
 he refuses, do not admit him when he calls to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Harry took the hint as intended, and left the 
 room, the Doctor soon following, as his carriage 
 was at the door. When they were both gone. 
 Miss Dundonald remarked to her friend — 
 
 " Well, Mary, I hope your doubts about Mr. 
 Howard are now removed. He would never 
 
280 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 have ridden through all this rain for Mr. Selwyn 
 only ; it was to please you he did so." 
 
 " You may be mistaken, Lucy, for I believe 
 he would have done the same for the poorest 
 person in the parish ; that is his general cha- 
 racter." 
 
 " Very likely, my dear ; but without meaning 
 to detract from his merit, he sped on the wings 
 of love to-day, that's as clear to me as the sun 
 now breaking through the clouds ; but as the 
 rain is over, let us take a turn or two on the 
 gravel-walk." 
 
 Early the next morning Harry called again, 
 and finding Mr. Selwyn out of danger, spent 
 the morning with his fair friends ; but as Mr. 
 Selwyn improved in health from that day, 
 Harry's visits became less frequent. Still, Miss 
 Maitland, making allowance for his hunting and 
 other avocations, felt assured of his attachment, 
 until one evening, when sitting alone with her 
 mother, the latter observed — 
 
 " I hope, Mary, you do not think too much 
 of Mr. Harry Howard ; depend upon it, his 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 281 
 
 visits here are not on your account, and I ad- 
 vise you not to take any such fancy into your 
 head." 
 
 This speech from her mother pained Mary 
 exceedingly, thinking she must be a better judge 
 than herself of any man's attentions ; and on 
 retiring to her room, the most bitter feelings 
 took possession of her heart. 
 
 " Can it, indeed, be true, that he does not 
 love me ? That my heart is given to one who 
 can make no return ? Oh, it cannot be ! with- 
 out him 1 know and feel life would be a blank ! 
 I can never love another, and may Heaven avert 
 this misery from me ! Mamma does not know 
 him as well as I do ; but I must, and will, be 
 more distant for the future." 
 
 Unfortunately, the next morning after this 
 conversation, Harry Howard called again at Elm 
 Grove. Miss Maitland was sitting with Miss 
 Dundonald in the drawing-room, brooding over 
 the remarks her mother had made to her, when 
 the object of her meditations passed the window. 
 Her spirits were very low ; nothing but wretch- 
 
282 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 edness seemed in store for her, and upon seeing 
 Harry Howard, her feelings quite overpowered 
 her, and she burst into tears. Miss Dundonald 
 endeavoured to rouse her from this prostrate 
 and desponding state of mind, but in vain. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Mary, you must not give 
 way thus; I am quite sure that Mr. Howard 
 loves you." 
 
 " No, Lucy ; what did mamma tell me last 
 night ? — that his visits were to her — not to me ; 
 and to think that I have loved without any re- 
 turn, is most humiliating ; but I will for the 
 future subdue all my feelings, and be as distant 
 and reserved as mamma could wish. I cannot 
 go into the drawing-room whilst he is here." 
 
 " If you do not," said Lucy, " your mamma 
 will be seriously offended ; so come, take up 
 your work, and let us go. Mr. Howard saw us 
 as he passed the window, and he will think us 
 both very capricious, and rude also, if we absent 
 ourselves." 
 
 Summoning all her pride and resolution, Miss 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECH WOOD. 283 
 
 Maitland received Harry Howard with the most 
 distant politeness, and scarcely joined in the 
 conversation whilst her mother remained in the 
 room. When she left, Harry, who had noticed 
 with pain and astonishment Mary's altered man- 
 ner, with friendly solicitude begged to know the 
 cause ; if she were ill, or had anything vexed 
 her. 
 
 ** Oh, no," she replied, in a careless and in- 
 different tone, without even raising her eyes, 
 which were fixed on her work, " I have a slight 
 head-ache this morning, that is all ;" and she 
 addressed some common-place observation to 
 Miss Dundonald, who was sitting by her side. 
 Harry felt both hurt and indignant at such un- 
 deserved treatment, and rising from his chair 
 abruptly, wished her good morning. Miss 
 Maitland listened in breathless silence to his 
 quickly-retreating footsteps, as he paced through 
 the old oak hall; and when the last echo fell 
 upon her ear, she again burst into tears, ex- 
 claiming — 
 
284 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Oh, Lucy, he is gone ! gone, I fear, for 
 ever ! My caprice and folly have lost me one 
 of the dearest friends I ever possessed. To 
 please mamma, I have made myself miserable, 
 for he must think now I do not care about 
 him/' 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Mary, I fear you have 
 gone too far this morning in your reserve to 
 Mr. Howard, and you must expect him to be 
 more distant for the future, at least till some 
 explanation takes place ; but he is a man who 
 will never forget his first love, so don't despair ; 
 you will soon be friends again." 
 
 Harry rode home mortified and deeply pained 
 by Miss Maitland's behaviour ; but naturally of 
 a proud and haughty temper, his spirit rose in 
 opposition to other warmer feelings. To be 
 slighted and scorned by the girl he had so deeply 
 loved and served, and without any apparent 
 cause for such treatment, rendered him almost 
 furious. 
 
 " No," he exclaimed, "it is impossible — she 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 285 
 
 cannot even love me as a friend; why, then, 
 should I submit to such caprice, or bestow an- 
 other thought upon her ? I'll tear her image 
 from my heart, cost what effort it may ; and 
 she shall see and feel that Harry Howard is no 
 whining lover to fawn like a spaniel at her 
 feet." 
 
 Harry kept his resolution, and for several 
 weeks did not again cross the threshold of Elm 
 Grove. Mary Maitland, although suffering 
 from the most contending feelings, endeavoured 
 to appear unconcerned and unaffected by his 
 absence, buoying herself up with the hope of 
 his return. Days and weeks passed by, yet he 
 came not ; but she was informed of his being 
 seen riding with other young ladies, and even 
 passing the Lodge gates of Elm Grove. The 
 scene of their last meeting would often recur to 
 her thoughts with bitter reflections on her dis- 
 tant reception of him that unlucky morning ; 
 but how could she have believed him capable of 
 harbouring such resentment for so trivial an 
 
286 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 offence ? " No," she would reason to herself, 
 " it cannot be on that account ; and now I feel 
 convinced, when, alas ! too late, that he cares 
 not for me in the least ; his conduct proves it 
 too plainly, and he wishes me to see and feel 
 that he never intended me to regard him in any 
 other light than as a mere friend." 
 
 A prey to the most miserable and heart- 
 rending anticipations, Mary Maitland's health 
 soon began to fail, her mind ever dwelling on 
 one hopeless subject, and she was soon confined 
 to her room, with a serious attack of illness. 
 Hearing of it, Harry Howard called at Elm 
 Grove, and found Mrs. Selwyn at home, Miss 
 Maitland being still obliged to keep her bed. 
 He remained sitting and talking with her for 
 more than half an hour, and from her gained 
 the information he so much wished to obtain, 
 yet her daughter's name never passed his lips. 
 Although Harry was a great favourite with Mrs. 
 Selwyn, she had taken the idea into her head 
 that his attentions to her daughter were only 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 287 
 
 those of a neighbour ; and fearing, from a mo- 
 ther's penetration, other feelings had taken pos- 
 session of her heart, she seized every oppor- 
 tunity of weaning her child from indulging 
 hopes which she imagined would never be real- 
 ized. Harry's behaviour on this occasion con- 
 vinced Mrs. Selwyn that her own opinion of 
 him was the true one, little dreaming what was 
 then passing through his mind. As soon, there- 
 fore, as he had left the house, she entered her 
 daughter's room with these words — 
 
 " Well, Mary, Mr. Howard has been here ; 
 but notwithstanding my telling him you had 
 been so ill, and were still unable to leave your 
 room, he had not even the common politeness 
 to say he hoped you would soon be better. 
 Now, you see" — (with rather a triumphant 
 look) — " my opinion, which you thought so 
 lightly of, is, after all, the correct one. Are you 
 now satisfied, my dear ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, mamma ; but pray do not again 
 renew the subject." 
 
288 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " Well, my love, I will not allude to it any 
 more ; but now, for my sake and your father's 
 (who is sadly distressed by your illness), pray 
 rouse yourself. Think of your woman's pride — 
 to harbour thoughts of a man who does not 
 even express for you the feelings of a common 
 acquaintance. It excites my indignation that a 
 child of mine should ever bestow her love on 
 one w^ho treats her in this heartless manner. 
 And who, after all, is Mr. Howard ? Your 
 family is as good — better — higher than his; 
 and there are many men as good-looking, with 
 better pretensions, who would treat you with 
 that attention and respect which is your 
 due." 
 
 Mary Maitland listened to these and many 
 other cutting remarks directed against Harry 
 Howard by her mother, without comment ; and 
 then answered — 
 
 " I will do all. I can, my dearest mother, to 
 rouse myself from indulging any further thoughts 
 of Mr. Howard ; but pray leave me now, as 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 289 
 
 I feel quite unequal to talk on such a sub 
 ject." 
 
 When her mother left the room, the struggle 
 in poor Mary's heart between love and pride 
 was a fearful one ; but still she could not har- 
 bour, as her mother did, resentment towards 
 Harry Howard, although now nearly, if not 
 quite, satisfied, that she had mistaken his feel- 
 ings towards herself. What, however, were 
 hers towards him ? Almost the same. Love 
 once admitted, growing, as it had, with her 
 growth, and strengthening with her strength, 
 reigned still tnumphant, and no efforts of hers 
 could dislodge him from her breast ; but duty 
 to her mother and respect to herself, forbade her 
 ever again showing it to the w^orld. 
 
 " Oh !" she exclaimed, in mental agony, 
 " that we had never met ! and yet I fondly hoped 
 in Harry Howard I had found the counterpart 
 of my dearly-lamented cousin. He would never 
 have treated me thus. It is all like a fearful 
 dream ; but now awakened from it, I must rouse 
 myself, — pride will do the rest." 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 From that day, Mary Maitland began to re- 
 gain both strength of body and mind ; and in 
 her mother's presence and that of company, 
 appeared as cheerful as before. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 About ten miles from Elm Grove resided 
 Mr. and Mrs. Archer, with a large family of 
 daughters, who had become acquainted with 
 Miss Maitland, by frequently meeting her at 
 balls and parties during the preceding season in 
 Bath ; and as she had just then received an in- 
 vitation from one of the girls to spend a few 
 days with them at their country-house, Mrs* 
 Selwyn pressed her to accept it, in the hope of 
 her being benefited by change of air and scene. 
 Harry Howard had several times expressed his 
 disapprobation of these young ladies' flirting, 
 forward manner, and cautioned her against be- 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 coming intimate with them, especially since cer- 
 tain reports had been circulated with respect to 
 one of the sisters, which were very discreditable, 
 and unfortunately too well founded. Under 
 other circumstances Mary Maitland would have at 
 once declined their invitation ; but now, to show 
 her contempt for Harry Howard's advice, she 
 resolved to accept it. — She was kindly received 
 by the whole family on her arrival at Oakley 
 Park, and most warmly greeted by her favourite, 
 Louisa, the second daughter, a handsome, showy- 
 looking girl, about the same age as Miss Mait- 
 land, and of course her sincere friend. On 
 retiring to dress for dinner Louisa accompanied 
 her to her room, when the following dialogue 
 took place : — 
 
 " I am so delighted to see you, dear Mary, 
 although I cannot compliment you on your 
 looks. You said you had been very ill; but 
 really, my dear, you are sadly altered, and your 
 spirits seem gone. What can be the matter ?" 
 *' Oh, nothing particular ; I am subject, as 
 you know, to attacks on the chest, and have had 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 293 
 
 a very severe one lately, but I dare say change 
 of air will soon restore me." 
 
 " Well, I hope so," replied Louisa ; " but the 
 roses have fled so entirely from your cheeks, 
 that I really must apply a little of the artificial^ 
 to make you appear more presentable at dinner, 
 as we have some gentlemen coming to dine here 
 this evening/* 
 
 " No," said Mary, " I have never used, and 
 never will, such things ; people must take me 
 as they find me." 
 
 " Really, my dear Mary, I must say, this is 
 rather prudish ; just the least tint would make 
 you look quite charming. I am naturally so 
 pale, that I am scarcely passable without it," 
 saying which, she dipped her finger in a little 
 box, and was about applying it to her friend's 
 cheek, when Mary sprang away, exclaim- 
 ing— 
 
 *' Oh, Louisa, you will seriously offend me if 
 you attempt that again." 
 
 " Well, dear, as you please ; but now tell me 
 something about Mr. Harry Howard, who was 
 
294 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 SO attentive to you last season. Has he pro- 
 posed yet ?" 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, rather sadly ; " nor do I 
 expect he ever wiU." 
 
 " Indeed ! you surprise me. He certainly was 
 very much in love with you, if I am a judge of 
 such matters ; and 1 actually laid a bet that you 
 would be married or engaged within the twelve- 
 month." 
 
 " Then, Louisa, your bet is lost." 
 
 " Not yet, my dear, only six months have 
 elapsed ; but tell me, don't you see him often at 
 Elm Grove?" 
 
 " Not very, Louisa ; he calls occasionally as a 
 neighbour might do, but nothing more ; — so 
 now I must prepare my toilet, or I shall be too 
 late for dinner." 
 
 Mary Maitland possessed too much prudence 
 and delicacy of feeling to make such a person as 
 Louisa Archer keeper of a secret, which she had 
 resolved should be confined for the future to her 
 own breast only. Moreover, she now sorely 
 repented having, in a moment of pique, accepted 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 295 
 
 Louisa's invitation to Oakley Park, after her 
 promise to Harry that she would never go 
 there ; but then she thought, " of what conse- 
 quence now is his opinion to me ?" 
 
 Change of scene and society produced the 
 desired effect ; and after a short sojourn at Oak- 
 ley Park, Mary returned with two of the Miss 
 Archers to Elm Grove, much improved in 
 looks, if not in manners ; for, to disguise her 
 better feelings, she had now assumed the levity 
 and gaiety of her friend Louisa, which she knew 
 full well would convince Harry Howard, when 
 they met, of her alteration of sentiment towards 
 him. 
 
 Soon after her return, Mrs. Selwyn gave a 
 large dinner party, and invitations were sent to 
 both the Howards, and accepted by them from 
 different motives — Miss Dundonald was also 
 included. 
 
 The evening so impatiently and nervously ex- 
 pected by Mary, arrived ; when she flattered 
 herself some explanation would be afforded by 
 her former lover, as her old and true friend 
 
296 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 Lucy had assured her, she felt persuaded of his 
 attachment, notwithstanding appearances. 
 
 " Harry Howard," she said, " is not the man 
 to act thus, from mere whim or caprice — but he 
 thinks vou are indiflPerent to him." 
 
 " Ah, Lucy, you are, as usual, taking his part, 
 even against me, your friend ; but I have been 
 studying lately in a different school, and hope 
 you will think me improved to-night." 
 
 " I fear not, Mary ; but you have another 
 friend now in Louisa Archer." 
 
 " No, not a true friend like you, dear Lucy • 
 she will never know any secrets of mine." 
 
 Harry Howard, although generally punctual 
 in his engagements, was the last guest on this 
 occasion, and Mrs. Selwyn had just been en- 
 quiring of Robert, whether he thought his cou- 
 sin would come. 
 
 " I can scarcely answer for him," replied 
 Robert ; "for he has got into such a confounded 
 sulky humour lately, that one can't comprehend 
 him, and he looks as fierce as a lion." 
 
 As the door opened, Robert turned his head. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 297 
 
 " Ah ! there he is at last, Mrs. Selwyn ; now 
 judge for yourself." 
 
 All his acquaintances were struck with the 
 haughty air and gloomy aspect of Harry, as he 
 entered the room, and the cold formality with 
 which he paid his respects to Mrs. Selwyn, who 
 never imagined he could have assumed such 
 gravity of deportment towards her so different 
 to formerly. Harry was indeed an altered man 
 in thoughts and manners. The frank and 
 joyous expression of youth had given place 
 to the fixed or careless gaze of the man of the 
 world. 
 
 Two short months had effected such a change, 
 that he looked and spoke like a man of forty ; 
 his heart had been seared as if with a red-hot 
 iron — he felt dead to the world and those around 
 him ; and as his cold, apathetic eye rested on 
 Mary Maitland, she quailed beneath that re- 
 proachful look, which seemed to say, " Such as 
 I am, you have made me." 
 
 As he passed where she was sitting with 
 Louisa Archer, the latter, with her usual for- 
 
298 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 wardness, said, " You see, Mr. Howard, Miss 
 Maitland has quite recovered — she has been 
 staying with us at Oakley Park, and I think we 
 have brought her home quite well and bloom- 
 ing." 
 
 " Indeed," exclaimed Harry, with an air and 
 tone of bitter sarcasm ; *' she has been staying 
 with you, has she ? — of course she could not fail 
 to be benefited." 
 
 Miss Maitland shrank behind her friend at 
 this speech ; for she w^ell understood his meaning, 
 and could scarcely restrain her tears. 
 
 When he was gone, Louisa exclaimed in as- 
 tonishment, " My goodness, Mary ! what can 
 have altered Mr. Harry Howard so ? — he is a 
 perfect bear to-night; but never mind his ill- 
 humour, we will play him off a little after din- 
 ner. Why, really, Mary, you appear quite 
 frightened at him — that will never do with tru- 
 ant lovers. Laugh, chat, and flirt with other 
 men, that's the only way to bring them to their 
 senses." 
 
 " I cannot quite agree with you, Louisa ; for 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 299 
 
 in my opinion, such conduct would only estrange 
 a true lover more and more/' 
 
 "Ah, Mary, you are only a novice yet in 
 these affairs ; but follow my advice this one 
 night, and be as gay and lively as you can — 
 just try the experiment once." 
 
 "Well, perhaps I may, for I think Mr. Howard 
 is quite rude and overbearing, though his good 
 opinion is almost a matter of indifference to me." 
 
 The dinner hour passed, during which Harry 
 did not address a word to Miss Maitland, who 
 sat opposite to him with Robert, who was, as 
 usual, most obsequious in his attentions. 
 
 On returning to the drawing-room, Harry 
 threw himself on a sofa, in a retired part of the 
 room, brooding over his melancholy reflections. 
 Miss Dandonald, pitying his evidently depressed 
 spirits, went and sat down by his side. 
 
 Addressing him in a gentle tone of voice, she 
 said, " You will not think me impertinent if I 
 ask, what has made you so cold and repulsive in 
 your manner to us all ? believe me, my enquiries 
 proceed from no idle curiosity." 
 
300 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 " I thank you, Miss Dundonald, for your kind- 
 ness ; but I can only tell you, that I have been 
 suffering lately from great depression of spirits, 
 and I cannot appear gay, as others do, when I 
 feel miserable." 
 
 " Pray tell me, Mr. Howard, what has ren- 
 dered you so wretched ; I may perhaps console, 
 if I cannot relieve you." 
 
 Harry was silent for a few moments, when 
 turning to her, he said, — 
 
 " I will read you a riddle. 1 once possessed 
 a beautiful little plant, which I watched and 
 tended day by day in its rapid growth, with all 
 the loving fondness of which man is capable ; 
 but when it grew up to maturity, and the flower 
 expanded in all its loveliness, I gathered it and 
 placed it next my heart, and then it stung me 
 like a nettle." 
 
 Miss Dundonald guessed his meaning, and 
 was about to reply, when they were interrupted 
 by the approach of the two Miss Archers, Miss 
 Maitland, and Robert Howard, all laughing 
 and gigghng together, who took up a position 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 301 
 
 near the sofa, purposely, as it appeared, with the 
 intention of annoying Harry Howard. 
 
 His indignant eye rested for a moment on the 
 giddy group and then fell, with a meaning look, 
 on Miss Dundonald. 
 
 She read his heart's feelings, and rising, said, 
 
 " Come, Mr. Howard, let us go to another 
 part of the room." 
 
 " No," he replied, " you can go, but I shall 
 remain where I am. They have sought me for 
 the purpose of annoyance, and shall not be dis- 
 appointed. The buzzing of gnats cannot scare 
 away Harry Howard, although they may sting 
 him to the quick." 
 
 Miss Dundonald joined Mrs. Selwyn, leaving 
 Harry Howard sitting alone. 
 
 Robert chatted away with the Miss Archers 
 in his usual style, talking all kinds of nonsense, 
 with insinuations against Harry, to make them 
 laugh, in which Miss Maitland (whose back was 
 turned on Harry) joined also. 
 
 The subject of ladies riding was then dis- 
 cussed ; when Bob was quizzing the ridiculous 
 
302 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 figures many cut on horse-back without proper 
 instruction. 
 
 '' Oh," said Miss Maitland, " I intend, next 
 summer, taking lessons of Mr. Mead, — (a fash- 
 ionable riding-master in Bath, who had generally 
 an escort of half-a-dozen Bath girls in his train, 
 scampering over the country to the disgust of 
 aU right-thinking persons, and of whose conduct 
 Harry had often made severe remarks to her) ; — 
 "he is reported to be a gentleman in reduced 
 circumstances, and appears very attentive to his 
 pupils." 
 
 On these words striking his ear, Harry, ad- 
 dressing Miss Maitland, said, 
 
 " Why should you take lessons of Mr. Mead ? 
 Surely you can be better instructed at home, if 
 you require any lessons, which I do not think 
 you do." 
 
 Without turning her head, or venturing a 
 look on Harry, Miss Maitland replied, 
 
 " I shall certainly take a few lessons of Mr. 
 Mead notwithstanding." 
 
 This haughty speech was cheered by Louisa. 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 303 
 
 " That's right, my dear ; always think and 
 act for yourself," casting a contemptuous look 
 on Harry, who quickly rising and facing her, 
 rejoined, — 
 
 " And accept, instead of a true friend's offer- 
 ing, the ready incense of fools. But as a jewel 
 of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman 
 without discretion." 
 
 These last words were uttered in a slow, dis- 
 tinct tone, and there being a silence then in the 
 room, reached the ears of Miss Dundonald and 
 Mrs. Selwyn, who were sitting together. 
 
 Miss Archer made no reply. The arrow went 
 home, and as Harry turned indignantly away. 
 Bob remarked, — 
 
 '* There, Miss Louisa ! this comes of bearding 
 the lion. I told you Harry was in no humour 
 to be trifled with to-night." 
 
 *' Lucy," said Mrs. Selwyn, " that was a very 
 rude and unkind speech of Harry Howard's, 
 considering the unfortunate affair with Louisa's 
 sister." 
 
 " It was, perhaps, a little too hasty," she re- 
 
304 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 plied ; " but then, my dear Mrs. Selwyn, you do 
 not know what I do about the matter. Louisa has 
 been doing all in her power to annoy and harass 
 Mr. Howard this evening, and she came with 
 her party purposely near the sofa (where he was 
 sitting" with me), laughing and making jeering 
 remarks, which she knew would irritate and vex 
 him, and I am sorry to add, Mary also joined 
 with her. I heard much to this effect, and 
 seeing Mr. Howard in such dreadfully low 
 spirits, I begged him to leave that part of 
 the room, but he resolved to remain. From 
 what I overheard, however, of their foolish jest- 
 ing, I think Louisa has only met with her de- 
 serts." 
 
 " Indeed, Lucy, I am sorry to hear this, and 
 that Mary should have acted so unbecomingly, 
 and I shall certainly speak to her on the sub- 
 ject. But what can be the matter, my dear, 
 with Mr. Henry Howard — perhaps you may 
 know that also?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Lucy, " I believe I do ; al- 
 though he has not made me his confidant." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 305 
 
 "Then pray tell me, my dear, what it is." 
 
 " I respect Mr. Howard too much," said 
 Lucy, " to be the means of wounding his feelings 
 in any way, and therefore my thoughts of him 
 must not be divulged to others, to cause him, 
 perhaps, more annoyance." 
 
 " But surely, Lucy, you may confide in me ; 
 I am no giddy girl, and really feel interested 
 about him." 
 
 " Promise me, then, dear Mrs. Selwyn, that 
 you will never mention, even to Mary or Mr. 
 Selwyn, what I suspect to be the cause." 
 
 " Yes, Lucy, I do faithfully promise you." 
 
 " Then, Harry Howard loves one, who he be- 
 lieves does not return his affection." 
 
 " Who, Lucy ? who can she be ?" 
 
 *' Your own dear Mary." 
 
 " Oh ! Lucy, you cannot be in earnest — or 
 must be mistaken ; it is impossible — he cannot 
 love her — he never comes here now as he used 
 to do — and is almost a stranger." 
 
 " And will be a greater stranger still. I know 
 him well — Mary treated him almost contempt- 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 uously the last time he called here, and of course 
 he would not soon return ; and how has she 
 behaved to him to-night? Oh, Mrs. Selwyn, 
 truly do I feel for him, and he has too manly 
 and sensitive a heart, to bear such indignities 
 from one he so deeply loves, without the most 
 bitter anguish." 
 
 "My dear Lucy," said Mrs. Selwyn, "you 
 astonish me — I know Mary liked Henry, and 
 fretted about him so, that I sent her for change 
 of air to Oak Park ; but I do not now believe, 
 even after what you have told me, that he thinks 
 seriously of her." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Selwyn, he thinks of no one 
 else but your own dear Mary — but I will say 
 no more." 
 
 " Then, Lucy, I have wronged him ; but go 
 and tell him I wish to speak to him." 
 
 Lucy crossed the room, and Harry rose to 
 accompany her to Mrs. Selwyn, who held out 
 her hand, saying in a kind tone of voice — 
 
 "You have scarcely spoken to me this 
 evening." 
 
THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 307 
 
 " I beg pardon for my apparent inattention," 
 replied Harry ; " but I saw you so encompassed 
 by others, far more agreeable than myself, that 
 I thought my presence might be an intrusion." 
 
 " Well then, to show you this is not the case> 
 you must now sit and talk with me a little." 
 
 Harry complied, and shaking off his gloomy 
 thoughts, endeavoured to make himself as con- 
 versable as possible, and for a time succeeded ; 
 but a fit of abstraction again came over him> 
 which Mrs. Selwyn noticed. 
 
 " You are out of spirits, Mr. Howard— I hope 
 you are not ill ?" 
 
 " Oh no ; but we cannot always be the same . 
 our thoughts are not in our own keeping ; and 
 I confess I do not feel in a very cheerful mood 
 to-night, and therefore must soon take leave." 
 
 " Well, do not go yet — and you must come 
 and dine with me again on Friday next." 
 
 Harry hesitated, trying to make some excuse 
 about other engagements ; but Mrs. Selwyn 
 would take no denial. 
 
 As Harry rose, Miss Maitland joined her 
 
 X 2 
 
308 THE SQUIRE OF BEECHWOOD. 
 
 mother, who having heard his speech to Louisa 
 Archer, remarked — 
 
 " I fear the Miss Archers have been quizzing 
 Mr. Howard this evening, which is not proper or 
 becoming at any time for young ladies ; but I 
 have asked him to dine here again on Friday, 
 when I hope he will not be subjected to a repe- 
 tition of such conduct." 
 
 Mary felt her cheeks burn at her mother's 
 remarks, and remained silent. Music was now 
 introduced, and those who had some distance to 
 return home, soon after began to take their leave. 
 Harry shook hands with Mrs. Selwyn, and with 
 a distant bow to Miss Maitland, quitted the 
 room. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 J. Billing, Printer, 103, Hatton Garden, London, and Guildford, Surrey. 
 
H^^i^lSESKHBR^D 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOI9-URBANA 
 
 S^ ^ "5 ■ 4 .'- 
 
 3 0112 047696635 
 
 ^V 
 
 V:^: 
 
 ^W^' 
 
 V 
 
 1 
 
 
 s51Pp??lc 
 
 HiMI 
 
 
 MlflHI