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 LI B RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 


 
 ANGEL LYONS. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM PLATT, 
 
 AUTHOE OF ' BETTY WESTMINSTEE,' ' YOEKE HOUSE,' ' GEaCE OF 
 GLENHOLME,' ' AXICE HTTHE,' &C, &.C. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SAUNDEES, OTLEY & CO., 66, BEOOK STEEET,W. 
 
 1866. 
 
 [Tlie right of translation reserved^.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/angelolyonsnovel01plat
 
 V. v 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 -4 
 
 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Home Ties and Kindred Links . . . .1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Leonard's Crooked Policy and its Results . . 38 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 In which Abel, ' The Black,' Plays an Ugly Part . 65 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 4. Sees Mr. Angelo Lyons in Possession of his Rights, 
 and Greystone House in Possession of the 
 
 Rabble 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Shews how the ' Man of Steel' ruled his People, and 
 
 reigned in their Hearts . . . .101 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Tells how Mary and Hester were shown over the New 
 House and into the * Old Storeroom,' by Faith 
 Lincoln, and how it affected them . .112 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Faith Lincoln 154
 
 IV CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Throws some Light on the Relative Positions in Grey- 
 stone House, between Mr. Angelo Lyons and 
 his Housekeeper. . . . . 1 72 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Was Mr. Angelo Lyons the Unbeliever he seemed? . 196 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In which Mr. Lyons engages an unexceptionable 
 Governess for his Daughter ; and is coaxed by 
 Rachel into doing Something that sends Jane 
 Rosse scampering over the House like a mad Girl 215 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 In which Miss Jane acts the part of a little " Witch," 
 to frighten Rachel ; and gets Dear Papa 
 famously bantered by them in Consequence . 232 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 In which Lady Ada Chilvers is flushed with the Hope 
 
 of making a Convert .... 249 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Gives an instance of Lady Ada Chilvers's surprising 
 Knowledge of the Old Masters, whereby she 
 makes the Acquaintance of a very interesting 
 Young Man . . . . .269 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Rachel's Day before the Ball . . . .313
 
 ANGELO LYONS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 
 
 'It was winter in earnest at Shiphampton — one of 
 those bitter-cold, piercing, pitiless December after- 
 noons, close on evening, when feeling hearts in com- 
 fortable parlours, with blazing fires and warm carpets 
 tmd curtains, and draught- defying doors, and lacking 
 nothing wherewithal to set black frosts and freezing 
 winds at defiance, have a painful conception f ho\v 
 dreadful poverty must be !' 
 
 While old Sol's red face was to be dimly seen 
 through murky clouds, seemingly still mindful of 
 -the old town as well as other places, and the business 
 and hum and bustle of the day were going on, and 
 its work had to be got through, and the nipped blood 
 was kept in tolerable motion by it, the ' fall of the 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 mercury below zero' was borne bravely. But when 
 came the cutting night-winds from the water, sweep- 
 ing up its long, straight Higli Street in furious gusts 
 that froze the breath in beards and whiskers, lucky 
 those in old Shiphampton who, snugly housed at 
 home, could poke their fires, and look over their- 
 blinds into the street, and bless their stars that they 
 were so blessed by Providence ! Somewhat differently 
 circumstanced to that poor shivering mother on the 
 curb-stone, with her twin-babes in her arms, e mov- 
 ing on/ to order ; or that miserable, half-clad black 
 man, with the bundle of ballads in his hands, looking 
 imploringly up at every house, in the hope that some 
 one would take pity on him. 
 
 How many ruddy windows he passed in vain, is 
 of no moment to my story ; many more, no doubt, 
 than the ' Heaven-blessed' inside them would be best 
 pleased to be told the plain truth about. How, 
 for instance, one could not see the poor fellow ; 
 another would not ; another did see him, from behind 
 the curtain, or in a corner; another kept his hand so 
 long undetermined in his pocket, that the wretched 
 creature was gone when he wanted to send him out 
 a sixpence ; another had paid his poor rates that dav, 
 and ' done his duty ;' another had been so often 
 betrayed by his feelings into giving injudiciously,
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 3 
 
 that 'it behoved him to Tbe more careful for the 
 future/ 
 
 But still hoping — on the 'black' moved from 
 house to house, for to sleep in the streets such a night 
 as it promised to be, or even under a shed in the 
 fields, or in a cart, or coal-hole, was not to be endured 
 without a struggle; and Abel, though a slave-born 
 negro, had seen better days, and was not a beggar. 
 So, Abel 'moved on' up High Street, till he came to 
 Ship Street ; which having a c well-to-do' look about 
 it, as if Heaven had been very good to it, he turned 
 down it, praying the Great Giver it might i bring 
 him enough to buy him something to eat and a 
 night's lodging.' 
 
 It brought him to Market Street, and that was 
 all. He could distinguish several faces, by the ruddy 
 glow of the blazing hearths, vacantly staring at him; 
 but possibly it was too cold for them to move from 
 their fires, or he might have fared better. Neverthe- 
 less the Great Giver had heard him, and was even 
 then — when the poor ' black's' heart was fainting 
 within him, as the evening closed in and the bitter 
 night had literally to be met face to face — earnestly 
 moving a kind heart in his behalf. 
 
 At the end of Market Street was the Broadway, as 
 it is called, principally used on Saturdays by the
 
 4 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 corn- dealers ; here and there about which are some 
 of the handsomest old houses in the town, the resi- 
 dences of some of its wealthiest citizens. One of 
 which was of considerable note at the epoch under 
 notice, owing to the eccentric habits of the rich old 
 lady living in it, and the profound respect paid to 
 the memories of her father, and grandfather before 
 him, both of whom had been Mayors of the old 
 Borough, and e died worth mints of money V 
 
 Greystone House, as it was named from its being 
 the only house of that material in the Broadway, 
 was a large, bold, business-looking edifice, standing 
 back some ten yards from the road, of rather modern, 
 pleasing aspect, and apparently still fully according 
 with the glorious accounts given, of its palmy past 
 times, when not a merchant's house within the 
 liberties did the business that Greystone House did. 
 But times were changed. The old heads lay at rest 
 in their graves ; srandsire and sire had acted their 
 busy parts on life's stage and passed away, full of 
 wealth and honors ; leaving the last of their line, one 
 Joyce Balfour, spinster, sole and absolute mistress of 
 a fortune, only to think of which turned many pale, 
 who had hopes under her will, c wondering what 
 she would do with it all V 
 
 Well, it was on the causeway in front of Greystone
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 
 
 House that the poor { black' stood with his ballads, 
 shiveringly mumbling out what he meant to be the 
 likeliest appeal he could think of to reach the hearts 
 of the two ladies, seemingly drawn to the window, 
 out of pity, by his doleful ditty. Evidently they 
 were regarding him with commiserating looks. 
 Both were in deep mourning. The young lady was 
 in widow's weeds ; her companion, seemingly bent 
 with age and infirmity, though stern-featured, had, 
 to poor Abel's eye, by no means a hard heart, ' or why 
 put on her spectacles to draw him nearer to her, 
 when it would have been so easy for her to have kept 
 her chair and turned her back and not seen him V 
 
 " Oh \" cried Anne Balfour, rising from her seat 
 before the fire, and going to the window, at sight of 
 Abel's piteous face through the wire blind, " what an 
 object !" At which Aunt Joyce lifted herself up with 
 the aid of her hooked stick, and hobbling to the 
 window, must have a look at the poor negro-man, as 
 if she cared for none else just then. 
 
 In truth, it was a most lucky moment for poor 
 Abel; for the ladies, whose pitying eyes were on 
 him, w r ere then in mourning — though twelve long 
 years had passed since his death — for one near and 
 dear to them, whose death at Antigua, in the West 
 Indies, and another grievous loss, had clothed them
 
 6 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 from that day to the present in black, and filled their 
 hearts with interests for the slave-race, by whose 
 steady toil and faithfulness Leonard Balfour, their 
 master, had, from comparatively nothing, risen to be 
 one of the I'ichest planters in the island. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" exclaimed his widow, beckoning 
 Abel to come to her from the frozen road where he 
 was mumbling out his pathetic lament ; " had house 
 and home to go to once, I'll be bound for it ; and, 
 yet, how he leaped for joy when they made him a 
 freeman." 
 
 "Ah, yes !" echoed Aunt Joyce,' putting on her 
 spectacles ; " and came over here, what for, I wonder ? 
 To make his fortune may be ? White skins suffer 
 that ? Poor idiot ! Fresh come from the West, 
 sure ? Just the look of that other your poor husband 
 brought over with him the time his uncle Oliver died 
 and left him the Antigua lands ; only got a plea- 
 santer face, hasn't he, and not such thick lips ? 
 Where's Molly ?" 
 
 " Gone down town to see her mother." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; ill in bed, so she is ! And Hester laid 
 up again — what's to be done ?" 
 
 " Sure, nothing's easier, Aunt dear. Can't I see 
 what there is in the cupboard ? And it's hard if we 
 mayn't find a sixpence, too, somewhere, out of the
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 7 
 
 lap-full it has pleased God to send me f and away 
 went the rich widow to bid Abel wait a little at the 
 door, and then to see what the pantry had in it, 
 suitable to the case — Ann Balfour, like Aunt Joyce, 
 being a rigid economist, and, though it had pleased 
 Heaven to fill her, to overflowing, with good things 
 by the death of her husband, having no mind to 
 meddle with the shoulder of mutton they had had 
 for- dinner, if there were any possibility of feeding 
 the hungry and clothing the naked without it. 
 
 How was it to be done ? There were some cold 
 potatoes and the remainder of the suet-dumpling 
 which Molly had put aside for her supper ; but, 
 besides these, there was nothing but the mutton, and 
 the half-loaf of stale bread in the pan, till the 
 baker called again; and what were a few cold pota- 
 toes to fill a fasting stomach with, especially on such 
 a bitter-cold night as that ? It made Ann Balfour 
 shiver to think of it. 
 
 " He gives, and He takes away," she said to her- 
 self, with her gaze on the meat. " But twelve years 
 ago, and only two after our marriage, my husband 
 was young and well and strong — where is he now V* 
 — <and she cut a thick slice off the joint and a thick 
 slice off the loaf and put them, with the potatoes 
 .and the suet-dumpling, into a plate. — " Ah, poor,
 
 b ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 dear Leonard ! he little thought he should be laid* 
 low so soon. Strange ! and hale and hearty as he 
 was till within ten days of his death. Ah me! who* 
 is safe in this mortal life ? My poor boy ! would he 
 had been spared me!" — and seemingly forgetting 
 what she was doing, she laid another slice of meat on 
 the first. — " God save us ! who can say to-day where- 
 they may be to-morrow ? There — there — if he can 
 eat that he will do well. What shall I give him to- 
 drink ? There's no beer, we never have any." So- 
 having mixed a mugfull of hot milk and water, away 
 went Ann Balfour to the back-door, before remem- 
 bering that poor c blackie' was waiting for her at the 
 front ; when recollecting herself, she retraced her 
 steps, wondering what had become of her head ?* 
 and delighted enough was Abel with the good things- 
 she brought him. 
 
 " What's your name, poor man V she asked him,, 
 when he had emptied the mug at a draught. 
 
 " My name, Miss ? Abel White." 
 
 It accorded so whimsically with the colour of his 
 skin, that ' Miss' could nothelp smiling. Taking which 
 to mean 'how pleased she was with him!' Abel showed 
 his brilliant white teeth through his black lips r 
 in token of his cordial approval ; and having added, 
 for ' Miss's' information, that he was " one of the
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 9 
 
 emancipated from Trinidad, though he was born in 
 Tobago ;" ' Miss* stood at the door after saying 
 ''good night, Abel," till she saw him munching 
 away at the victuals on a step under the door portico 
 opposite, and then returned to Aunt Joyce. 
 
 They were talking of Antigua when widow Bal- 
 four saw Abel's imploring face through the blind, 
 and the strange coincidence of a 'black' from a 
 sister-island presenting himself at the moment, 
 might well enlist both their sympathies for him, 
 come from parts as he had with which was mixed up- 
 so much that was most interesting and important to 
 themselves. 
 
 What relates to Ann Balfour's chequered history,, 
 as specially applicable to my story, will be best 
 briefly told here. 
 
 She was the youngest of four sisters, and the 
 plainest ; but Ann Boys had no rival at home for 
 sound sense. It was what Leonard Balfour most 
 wished for in his wife. He had been brought up in 
 the faith that his mother and her sister, Aunt Joyce, 
 were perfect patterns of what women ought to be, to- 
 make house and home happy. A Balfour's happi- 
 ness lay not in handsome faces and figures; it was 
 the intrinsic worth they looked at most. You could 
 get any quantity of the staple commodities they
 
 10 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 dealt in that you wanted, and could pay for ; but 
 was the Balfour quality also in perfection ? They 
 prided themselves on it ; which had made the Ship- 
 hampton House of Balfour, Balfour and Son as 
 famous as it was for nearly two centuries and a half. 
 Well, it was intended by his uncle Tristram, (who, 
 though he married twice, was childless,) that Leonard, 
 his orphan nephew, should ' walk in his shoes,' and 
 succeed to the bulk of his wealth. A resolution, on 
 uncle Tristram's part, most warmly concurred in by 
 nephew Leonard himself, with the perfect concur- 
 rence of Aunt Joyce ; though, in that event, instead of 
 being the wealthy woman she became at the death of 
 her brother, she would have had little more than 
 five hundred a year instead of five thousand. But 
 Tristram Balfour, rich and powerful as he was, was 
 not to have everything his own way. There were 
 others as purse-proud and positive as he was ; and, 
 among them one Basil Home, Leonard's mother's 
 cousin, an opulent Barbadoes planter, who having 
 stood sponsor for the boy, by proxy, and never mean- 
 ing to have one of his own, thought he would see 
 with his own eyes whether Master Leonard was as 
 promising a lad as his mother made him out ; so, 
 becoming suddenly affectionate, he had him sent over 
 to him, in Barbadoes.
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 11 
 
 Leonard more than justified his mother's fond 
 accounts of him. He was handsome, he was intelli- 
 gent, he was gentle, and generous, brave as a lion, 
 but of an endearing disposition, though sometimes a 
 little hasty and heedless ; moreover, he took a huge 
 fancy to his godfather Basil, which so pleased the 
 rich sugar-planter, that he wrote home to say, " he 
 would adopt him, if his conduct satisfied him, and 
 make him his heir." 
 
 And till aged thirty, Leonard Balfour knew no 
 will but his godfather's ; when up rose in Barbadoes 
 one Otto Ghrimes, formerly of Tobago, but who, on 
 the death of his uncle, came into possession of the 
 valuable lands next Mr. Home's. Humour said he 
 was the richest man in the island ; also that, though 
 his only child, Zoe Ghrimes, was no beauty, she was 
 very clever and accomplished, and would " roll in 
 wealth at her father's death." 
 
 It tickled sweetly in Basil Home's ears; far 
 more so than it did in his godson's. Certainly, Zoe 
 Ghrimes was no beauty ; but if she had been the 
 ugliest young woman in Barbadoes, Leonard might 
 have been won over to his godfather's view of the 
 matter, and cared nothing for c perishables,' as Basil 
 called them, provided she had possessed those sterling 
 qualities for which the women of his own race had
 
 12 
 
 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 been so eminently distinguished ever since the Bal- 
 fours took root in Shiphampton. But, truth to 
 speak, Zoe Ghrimes, besides being exceedingly plain, 
 almost to absolute ugliness, was a vain, shallow- 
 minded young lady, idle, listless, dressy, of an 
 imperious temper, and accustomed to have her own 
 way in everything. 
 
 It shocked Leonard to see it; it jarred with all 
 his deep rooted notions of what a woman ought to 
 be, to be that f crown to her husband' which his 
 great-grandmother, and grandmother, and mother 
 had been to theirs, by all accounts, for more than 
 two generations. But seeing how his godfather 
 Basil had set his heart on getting up a match be- 
 tween him and the richest girl in Barbadoes, Leonard 
 had recourse to a little stratagem to escape the trap 
 laid for him, without offending his patron. He 
 offered no resistance to his godfather's schemes for 
 his happiness, — nay, listened to them with all due 
 obedience ; but " was in no hurry/' he said, " to 
 quit a home so deeply endeared to him as his was, 
 and which more than ever held him its grateful 
 inmate, when, broken in health as his benefactor 
 was, and the estate wanting such constant looking 
 after, what would he do without him ??' 
 
 Zoe could not tell. It had not occurred to her till
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 13 
 
 Leonard mentioned it. It seemed quite reasonable. 
 She supposed she should be married some day when 
 her father wished it, beyond which she concerned 
 herself very little about it. She liked Mr. Leonard 
 Balfour better than any of the young men admitted 
 to their table ; was proud to call him her intended, 
 and " would willingly marry him when papa gave the 
 word of command ; and she had no doubt she should 
 be happy, for it was what she meant to be, wed 
 whom she would." 
 
 So a sort of mutual understanding ensuing, to the 
 effect that Leonard was to marry Zoe, and Zoe was 
 to marry Leonard, " where was the use of hurry," 
 agreed the elders, " with young folks like them V — 
 the one being only thirty, and the other not yet 
 come to six-and-twenty ; especially as Otto Ghrimes 
 turned pale whenever he thought of losing his child, 
 and it sent a cold tremor through Bazil Home, to 
 think "what a dull life in the house all to himself 
 his would be, when he was robbed of his right 
 hand." 
 
 And so the courtship went on so entirely to the 
 satisfaction of them all, that it became as settled a 
 matter in Basil Home's mind that his godson Leon- 
 ard would — with Zoe Ghrimes for his wife — be the 
 richest man some day in Barbadoes, as that he
 
 14 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 should make him his heir and residuary legatee, 
 because he had complied with his wishes. 
 
 In short, it all hinged upon that. Leonard's for- 
 tune, or the reverse, at his godfather's hands, de- 
 pended on his implicit obedience. Godfather Home 
 must be master; and godson Leonard Balfour, 
 though not his slave, perfectly well understood the 
 terms he stood on with his wealthy and obstinate 
 patron. He must obey. Nor till the advent of Otto 
 Ghrimes on the island, .at his brother's decease, had 
 it ever entered Leonard's head to do otherwise. His 
 godfather's will was law with him, as it was with 
 every one else who ate his bread and received his pay 
 in return for work done. Leonard was his head- 
 manager, and so far had a will of his own, that his 
 principal had seldom cause for complaint, and saw 
 his interests so well cared for by his agent, that the 
 more power he gave him, the greater and grander he 
 grew himself. 
 
 But when came the Ghrimes' to dispute first places 
 with them, and it so put godfather Basil on his 
 mettle as to end in his getting up a matrimonial 
 engagement between the two houses, poor Leonard 
 thought of his mother, and grandmother, and great- 
 grandmother, and for a while was almost tempted to 
 throw up his post and face the worst, rather than
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 15 
 
 give his hand in wedlock to any woman on earth to 
 whom he could not also give his heart. 
 
 Zoe, however, was so contented at home, and her 
 father was so well satisfied to have her there all his 
 days, if he could, and godfather Basil saw so little 
 necessity for young people to "hurry into matrimony, 
 when they could wed when they would," that Leon- 
 ard curbed the rebellious spirit within him ; accom- 
 modating it to his conscience that " in doing as he 
 did, he had less his own interest at heart than his 
 benefactor's." Which first f white lie,' as he called 
 it, having ceased to disturb him, one deceit led to 
 more ; till Leonard Balfour, with the best character 
 for morality in the island, found himself so deeply 
 involved in one scheme or another, to ' throw dust 
 in his godfather's eyes/ that his life became wretched 
 to him, and though but forty-two when he died, 
 looked double that — he was so bent and broken. 
 
 How was this ? and why was Zoe Ghrimes still 
 maiden Zoe at his death ? 
 
 It seems that shortly after it was a formally 
 arranged affair between Basil Home and his rich 
 neighbour, Otto Ghrimes, that (e the young people 
 should be betrothed to each other, and the interests 
 of the two houses thus cemented by their union, it 
 occurred to Leonard that ' l he should like to pay old
 
 16 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Shiphampton and his uncle and aunt there a visit, if 
 his godfather could spare him." He a felt it was 
 his duty to do so." 
 
 " Go, then," said his godfather ; " and tell your 
 uncle and aunt what a good wife you are going to 
 have, and how grand you will be — as grand as any of 
 them, eh ?" added Basil Home, with a chuckle at the 
 thought of his own share in the glory, and how 
 Uncle Tristram's greedy little grey eyes would 
 glisten to hear it. Nor was it otherwise than a fair 
 feeling of rivalry in riches on godfather Basil's part, 
 who had given little promise of ever being the wealthy 
 man he then was, when, a headstrong youngster in 
 1 the old house' in Shiphampton, nothing could per- 
 suade Tristram Balfour that he would ever be 
 ' worth a penny/ Now he was worth nearly as much 
 as Tristram ; and in attaching Leonard so exclusively 
 to himself, had gratified the pique there always was 
 between the Homes and the Balfours, both, origi- 
 nally, large colonial merchants in Shiphampton ; 
 and was proud to see him depart for the 'old 
 house,' carrying with him such ample evidence of 
 Tristram's error. 
 
 Uncle Balfour was w T ell pleased to own himself 
 mistaken ; and Leonard cut quite a dash among the 
 'old folks at home/ But Aunt Joyce was not quite
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 17 
 
 happy on one point — this rich heiress of Basil 
 Home's choosing was by all accounts so unlike any- 
 thing she had ever heard of in the shape of a Balfour, 
 male or female, that it puzzled her to conceive u how 
 one of their race, which Leonard happened to be, 
 could expect to prosper, with such an antipodes to 
 all the prescribed family rules, for his partner for 
 life, as Zoe Ghrimes was ? Zoe was indolent and 
 listless, self-indulgent, of an imperious temper, impa- 
 tient of restraint, luxurious, fond of ease and finery 
 and flattery, took no pleasure in books, played a 
 little on the harp and piano, painted charmingly on 
 velvet, and could make the most beautiful artificial 
 flowers and feather- screens and shell-baskets — but 
 hated house- keeping. "How was a Balfour ever to 
 get on in life with such a woman as that for his 
 wife V was what Aunt Joyce wanted to know. 
 
 And it was what Leonard could not tell her. 
 Seemingly it was as much a riddle to him as to her; 
 indeed he often felt " so concerned about it that he 
 hardly knew what to think." 
 
 It set Aunt Joyce pondering night and day ; and 
 the more she thought of it, the stronger became her 
 conviction that " all the wealth of the Shiphampton 
 Balfours would have profited them but little, if it 
 had not been for their women. The heirs-male of 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 their line acknowledged it — ' they owed more than 
 half their prosperity to the industry and providence 
 and painstaking of their mothers and sisters/ And 
 what would have become of them if they had married 
 fools ? M 
 
 Leonard listened. In truth, he had come all the 
 way from Barbadoes to talk the matter over with 
 somebody to whom he could open his mind. All 
 the time he was crossing the seas Aunt Joyce was, in 
 imagination, vis a vis with him in earnest conversa- 
 tion about Zoe Ghrimes. And now they were tete- 
 a-tete in good earnest, it would have been hard in- 
 deed if he had disguised from his father's sister, who 
 knew him so well, what he had journeyed so far to 
 tell her, viz., — "that, but for the fear of displeasing his 
 godfather, who had been so good to him, and had 
 made him his heir, Zoe Ghrimes was certainly not 
 the woman he would have made his wife of his own 
 free will, if he could have helped it." 
 
 ft Nor must you ever do so, without it, Leonard," 
 returned Aunt Joyce, gravely. "And Zoe is not 
 even handsome ?" 
 
 It was a cunning stroke of Aunt Joyce's. Zoe 
 was ugly. And it so happening the same evening 
 that an old flame of Leonard's, one Ann Boys, the 
 prettiest young woman anywhere to be found in
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LIKKS. 19 
 
 "Shiphampton, came to drink tea with them at Grey- 
 stone House, the contrast was so striking between 
 Ann and Zoe, that Leonard had scarcely a wink of 
 sleep for it ; and looked so serious next morning at 
 breakfast, that both uncle and aunt Balfour were 
 M - positive something had happened." 
 
 And so something had — Leonard was more in 
 love than ever with his cousin Ann Boys. 
 
 He was of a confiding disposition when he felt 
 sure of his friend ; and it was not long before Aunt 
 Joyce was entrusted with a secret which he would 
 have as soon thought of flying as to have breathed 
 to his god-father Basil. 
 
 Aunt Joyce pulled a long face ; but she expressed 
 no surprise. Basil Home was rich, unmarried, 
 childless, and would make Leonard his heir, if he 
 pleased him ; which meaning that he certainly 
 would not, if he offended him, it behoved Leonard, 
 to be ' safely off with the old love before he was on 
 with the new/ There was Zoe Ghrimes to think of 
 -as well as Ann Boys. Aunt Joyce saw it all as well 
 as Leonard did ; but Ann came again and again to 
 drink tea at Greystone House, and the Balfours went 
 to drink tea at hers ; till godfather Basil, in Barba- 
 does, was almost forgotten amidst their pleasant 
 meetings and merry-makings. 
 
 2—2
 
 20 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 There is no need to dwell on this part of our 
 story. Leonard, though a staunch adherent of god- 
 father Home's, was a Balfour at heart, as was also* 
 Ann Boys, his kinswoman. All the old home im- 
 pressions returned a-fresh before he had been in 
 Ann's company an hour. It was as if he were con- 
 versing with the companions of his childhood, with 
 those dear old faces and forms with which were* 
 inseparably mixed up in memory all that was most 
 praiseworthy and precious to him in life. He sud- 
 denly woke, as it were, from a deep sleep to the 
 consciousness of how long he had been vainly dream- 
 ing of what he now, with eyes open and his wits- 
 about him, could see clearly enough, viz., that wealth 
 alone was insufficient for happiness, that what his 
 heart had been so long picturing to itself, as the 
 best of all blessings, was the possession of such a 
 woman as Ann Boys for a wife. " Why should he 
 mate himself to misery if he could help it ? What 
 then would his wealth be worth to him ? Did Zoe 
 Ghrimes care, at heart, for him any more than he 
 did for her ? was she not wholly wedded to her own 
 ways? cared she for anyone but herself? need he 
 sacrifice himself so ? was he not his uncle Oliver's 
 pet ? and, if he succeeded him in Antigua some day, 
 how well-off lie should be V 3
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 21 
 
 It was what Aunt Joyce was also thinking of. 
 Uncle Tristram preferred holding his tongue. He 
 ■and Basil Home differed in many things. Possibly 
 there was a little jealousy on Tristram's part, as 
 there often is where those wild, wicked ones we have 
 prematurely consigned to 'the dogs/ disappoint 
 their friends' expectations and rise to renown. 
 Uncle Tristram would give no opinion. But this he 
 would "emphatically declare before the face of all 
 men, viz., that the family chronicles spoke no where 
 of a Shiphampton Balfour having married a fool. 
 Wise had been their wives and daughters at all 
 times. Nephew Leonard had his own bed to make; 
 and as he made it so he would lie." 
 
 Which being pronounced " sound sense" by Aunt 
 Joyce, Leonard became very grave. His leave of 
 absence drew to a close. His godfather was impati- 
 ent for his return ; for " his health was very bad, 
 and he could do without him no longer. Mr. 
 Simco, the overseer, was no substitute. And Zoe 
 Ghrimes had two more admirers, one of them a very 
 handsome dashing young fellow, who was teaching 
 her to sing, and creeping up her father's sleeve." 
 
 It determined Leonard to go that very day and 
 make Ann Boys an offer. 
 
 Of course Ann had heard of Zoe Ghrimes, and on
 
 S3 AXGELO LYONS. 
 
 what conditions Leonard could alone hope to succeed 
 to his godfather's wealth. Ann was overwhelmed 
 with pride and joy ; but, though as self-reliant as 
 Aunt Joyce herself, she was not so selfish but that 
 she saw in a moment that "Leonard could only be 
 hers by a sacrifice so great, that, if he ever deplored 
 it, what happiness would there be for either of them, 
 should his Uncle Oliver marry again, as old men did 
 sometimes, and have a child V 
 
 So Ann hesitated to say yes to Leonard's offer, till 
 she had consulted Aunt Joyce. She did not say no* 
 But it was impossible for her to consider herself in 
 the matter, and not the fatal consequences that would 
 inevitably ensue to him if he disobeyed Mr. Home 
 by breaking off his engagement to Zoe Ghrimes, on 
 which he had set his heart. " He would never 
 forgive it." 
 
 " And what then ?" urged Leonard, " if we are 
 happy ?" 
 
 It shook Ann a little. But a minute's reflection 
 sufficing to convince her that in all worldly diffi- 
 culties which seem easy to surmount by easy 
 measures, reason should precede inclination, she 
 held fast to her hold on Aunt Joyce ; with a promise 
 " to be guided and governed by her, as in duty and 
 affection bounds be the sacrifice to herself what it
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 23 
 
 might. " May be Ann Boys was a little sly in this. 
 If so, there were great excuses to be made for it. 
 All her dearest hopes and interests were bound-up 
 with the Balfours, of Shiphampton. She was an 
 orphan. So was Leonard. Both of them owed 
 much from early childhood to the guardian care and 
 kindness of Uncle Tristram and Aunt Joyce ; both 
 were poor, both portionless, both called Greystone 
 House their home, be where they might. But they 
 were both earning their own living — Leonard, in 
 Barbadoes, as his godfather's right hand, as he called 
 him ; and Ann at a spinster relation's in Dock 
 Street, as confidential friend and companion to a 
 rich, cross, exacting old lady, who recognized im- 
 plicit submission in young females to their elders as 
 the first of all virtues, and made the continuance of 
 her favour and countenance to Ann Boys, in parti- 
 cular, dependent on her humbly serving her in all 
 things to the end, as agreed on. So here was food 
 for mutual sympathies. 
 
 Ann did serve her tyrannical task-mistress faithfully 
 and well, and had all the rewards of an approving 
 conscience; but sometimes longed, nevertheless, 
 when the duties were done, for a kind word, in return, 
 as well as a cross one, if occasionally it happened 
 that, being human nature, she pleaded guilty to fall-
 
 24 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 ing short of perfection. Luckily Aunt Joyce's arms 
 were always open to her, and her heart, too, when 
 she wanted counsel or comfort ; and up to the time 
 of Leonard's arrival among them from Barbadoes, 
 Ann had resolutely devoted herself to her trying lot 
 in life — it being Joyce Balfour's creed that " steady 
 perseverance in a right course never failed of success 
 in the end." The Shiphampton Balfours had always 
 found it so. Industry and patience had paved their 
 way with gold. Their motto was 'Long Enough;' 
 which signifying that they never lost by stopping 
 short of success, if they could help it, " see what it 
 had brought them to ! — wealth and renown." 
 
 But Ann had not spent three evenings in Leo- 
 nard's society again, when ' a change seemed to come 
 over the spirit of her dream.' Whereas before she 
 existed only, now she lived. And the new life it 
 awakened her to, gave such increased brightness to 
 her looks and music to her voice, in short, made her 
 so charming in Leonard's eyes, that she became too 
 happy for her peevish, fretful old relative, and, but 
 for her own sweet thoughts, Ann would have been 
 very wretched. 
 
 Evidently Leonard regarded her with interest. 
 Their lots were so similar. Nay, he looked and said 
 things to her over their games at chess and back-
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 25 
 
 gammon, which, if there had been no such beings 
 in existence as Zoe Grimes and Basil Home, would 
 have filled her with joy. But there ivas Zoe, and 
 there ivas godfather Home to be thought of; and 
 however Leonard, in dear old Shiphampton, might 
 appear to forget it, it was clearly Ann's duty to 
 remember what was due to herself, and to show Mr. 
 Leonard that Ann Boys, though at present poor and 
 dependent, had too much of his own Balfour spirit 
 in her, to play second fiddle to any woman on earth ; 
 much less to one who, by all accounts, was a very 
 vain, idle, silly, shallow- minded person, and scarcely 
 knew the use of her hands, or how to pick up her 
 handkerchief if it fell, or cast up a sum in addition. 
 
 " Could a Balfour contemplate such a wife with 
 common patience V* 
 
 Leonard put the question point-blank to Aunt 
 Joyce, after telling her that he had that morning 
 made Ann an offer. 
 
 His Aunt winked and fidgetted, as if it rather 
 annoyed her to be expected to be always mixing her- 
 self up with godfather Home and his <f goings on." 
 
 But it being indispensable that Aunt Joyce should 
 speak her mind on a subject so material to her 
 nephew's welfare and happiness ; " without which, 
 how could Ann know what to do V 3 — Joyce Balfour
 
 26 AXGELO LYONS. 
 
 was free to admit that " Ann was no fool ; and at 
 present, poor as she was, was richly gifted with those 
 intrinsic qualities which would be a noble fortune 
 in themselves, marry her who might, though she 
 never brought him a half-penny. Wherefore," added 
 Aunt Joyce, " considering Ann's expectations from 
 her half Aunt, Agatha Boys, together with what 
 Joyce Balfour's last will and testament may have 
 in it for her, when she is dead and gone, I am of 
 opinion, that before you elect to wed this woman or 
 that, nephew Leonard, it is your duty to pay your 
 uncle Oliver, in Antigua, the compliment of consult- 
 ing him. Till when, Ann will do well to encourage no 
 hasty hopes. Her good sense sees that. It would 
 reasonably surprise uncle Oliver if, to please the 
 Queen herself, you married without his sanction. 
 Next to ns, he is your nearest relation. He is not 
 as rich as your godfather Basil Horne, but he is 
 your mother's brother, and will give you the best 
 advice. Be counselled by him. Write to him freely 
 and fully. He is a just man, Leonard, and will do 
 the thing that is light."" 
 
 Aunt Joyce knew what she was about, and that 
 she was not 'reckoning without her host,' in refer- 
 ring Leonard to his uncle Oliver, between whom and 
 Basil Horne there was little cordialitv of sentiment.
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 27 
 
 Ann, too, was a great favourite of Oliver Boys y 
 and there was no doubt it would greatly please him 
 to hear that Leonard had placed his affections on a 
 woman in every way so worthy of him and likely to- 
 make him happy. 
 
 And it turned out as his uncle and aunt of Ship- 
 hampton had anticipated — Oliver Boys wrote 
 straightway to both Leonard and Ann, expressing 
 " the gratification their letters had given him ; but 
 preferring to see them before he committed himself 
 to any decisive opinion." Uncle Oliver was a pru- 
 dent man, and had no mind to indiscreetly embroil 
 himself in family feuds. But there could be no 
 harm in Ann's either t: patiently waiting till he vi- 
 sited England next year, when they could talk mat- 
 ters over; or, if Miss Agatha Boys would spare her 
 for a few months, he should be delighted to see her 
 in Antigua, and pay all expenses." 
 
 Leonard had returned to Barbadoes when this 
 invitation reached Ann. It was of all things what 
 she would most like to do, to visit Mr. Oliver Boys. 
 He was her near kinsman, and had always been a, 
 kind friend to her; and with beating heart she 
 placed his letter in Miss Agatha's hand. 
 
 Amazement filled Miss Agatha Boys' rigid face, 
 as for the first time it was made known to her that
 
 Zb ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 her confidential companion Ann Boys had dreamed 
 of looking at any man on earth with eyes matrimo- 
 nial, without her approval. Miss Agatha had been 
 disappointed in love before she was twenty ; and the 
 chief charm she saw in Ann was her apparent con- 
 tent with the shut-up life she then led, and her 
 seeming determination to dismiss from her mind 
 " such rubbish as that there was anything terrible in 
 being an independent old maid." 
 
 Let not the sternest virtues deem themselves 
 proof against Cupid's shafts, till they have ex- 
 perienced what he can do when he is in earnest. 
 Ann had loved Leonard more than all the boys, who 
 loved her more than all the girls, in Shiphampton, 
 when they were of the respective ages of fifteen and 
 twelve. Since when she had thought a good deal 
 more about Leonard than any heart knew of but her 
 own ; and it is very likely that his blindness to Zoe's 
 •charms, in particular, had as much to do with the 
 recollection of Ann's as anything else. Certainly 
 no two could be more unlike than were Zoe Gimmes 
 and Ann Boys. Which renders it possible that 
 when Leonard asked leave of his godfather Home to 
 pay his ' old home' a visit, bright visions of what Ann 
 Boys might then be— grown to full womanhood — were 
 mixed up with his longing desire to see dear old
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 29' 
 
 Shiphampton again, and the loved old faces in Grey- 
 stone House, far more than godfather Basil had any 
 conception of. 
 
 But with that Agatha Boys, spinster, had nothing- 
 to do. Scarcely a day had passed during the eight 
 years that Ann had been her companion, but they 
 had discussed " the folly and weakness and cowar- 
 dice of women relying on the heads and hearts and 
 right-hands of the male sex for happiness." Was not 
 Agatha Boys, spinster, a living example to the con- 
 trary ? What reasonable comfort, under Heaven, 
 w r as she not mistress of? Look from top to bottom 
 of her house, and who had a nicer one ? Yes, and 
 whose hands had made it so but her own ? " True/' 
 acknowledged Ann, with a suppressed sigh. And 
 when Mr. Leonard, from Barbadoes, came to see 
 them, she shewed him over it by Miss Agatha's wish; 
 and he could riot but grant, in Ann's ear, " it only 
 wanted one thing to be perfect." 
 
 And now Ann stood confessed of an utter re- 
 nunciation of the heroic sentiments which for eight 
 years had been the bond of union between her and 
 her patroness — Leonard's short stay among them 
 had played havoc with her spinster principles. In 
 short, she was thinking far more of the * one thing 
 wanting,' as Leonard looked at it, than of what she
 
 30 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 possessed in abundance ; and while Miss Agatha 
 read Oliver Boys' letter, it was easy to see with what 
 unfeigned disdain she was regarding " such feeble- 
 mindedness." 
 
 It sadly shook Miss Agatha Boys' faith in Ann ; 
 so much so that she offered no impediment to her 
 accepting uncle Oliver's invitation. In fact, Miss 
 Agatha was glad of a temporary separation, during 
 which she might recover from the shock that Ann's 
 non-conformity had occasioned her ; and wished her 
 * God speed' on her journey with a solemn alacrity 
 that made Mr. Boys' cordial reception of her in 
 Antigua doubly pleasant. For Ann's sense of 
 emancipation from a slavery worse than any negro's 
 was not all she had to congratulate herself on. Leo- 
 nard only waited her arrival at uncle Oliver's, to join 
 her there ; " when you shall hear," he said, ' ' about 
 Zoe Ghrimes, and what she says of this new admirer 
 of hers who is creeping up her father's sleeve ?" 
 
 It was quite true — Zoe had two more beaus. One 
 of whom, the handsome, dashing one, was sitting on 
 a hassock at her feet, singing Troubadour songs to 
 her with his guitar, when Leonard returned. 
 
 Zoe was by no means embarrassed; but received 
 him just the same as if he had never left her. She 
 was curious to hear about the last fashions in London,
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 31 
 
 and clapped her hands with delight at sight of ^the 
 pretty presents he brought her. But her heart was 
 evidently set on learning to play the guitar; and 
 Leonard leant all the weight he could to induce her 
 to do so. She was making great progress, under 
 the handsome, dashing Mr. George Molyneaux, when 
 Leonard set out on his journey to Antigua. She 
 was in the middle of a love- song of his, Mr. George's, 
 composing, when he went to take leave of her. He 
 sat down till she had repeated it thrice. Then she 
 smiled and nodded to the twang of the chords, as he 
 wished her good bye ; and plumping down again on 
 the sofa, when he was gone, had an hour more of it 
 with Mr. George. Though it is due to Zoe to say, 
 apart from the pleasure she found in her new amuse- 
 ment, she cared, at heart, as little for Mr. George 
 as she did for any one else who catered and slaved 
 for her whims and caprices. 
 
 And now, for what remains to be told here of Ann 
 Boys' history, or, rather, Ann Balfour's, before she 
 became a widow, suffice it to say that, though uncle 
 Oliver could offer no objection to Leonard's marry- 
 ing the woman he loved, he saw no prudence in his 
 cutting himself out of his godfather's good graces, 
 which he certainly would do if he offended him. Basil 
 Home was breaking in health ; his father died be-
 
 32 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 fore he was fifty ; rheumatic gout ran in the family ; 
 how much wiser to wait a little and see the turn of 
 events before acting in any way rashly ?" 
 
 It was counsel not to be scorned; and Ann, see- 
 ing the wisdom of it, leant all her little influence 
 towards its adoption. She saw that she might, if 
 she liked, by a look or word, leave Zoe no chance 
 with Leonard, rich as she was ; but she plainly per- 
 ceived, too, that, "by so doing, she would knock 
 down at a blow all that Leonard had been building 
 up for himself for so long in Barbadoes; and what 
 a sad thing that would be to think of for the rest of 
 her days ! No, rather than have that to lay to her 
 charge, they had better wait any number of years for 
 each other ; aye, though it never pleased Heaven to 
 unite them at all in wedlock." 
 
 Leonard listened. He liked money and the con- 
 sequence it gave its possessors as much as any one. 
 Bat " though it was true that Basil Home was a 
 good deal broken with the climate, he might live 
 many years ;" and said Leonard to himself, "Is it 
 possible for me to avoid making Zoe my wife, if my 
 godfather take it in his head some day to determine 
 on our union ? It is assuredly what he will do at 
 any moment, if the slightest suspicion crosses his 
 mind that I am dissembling with him. Then what
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 33 
 
 would be the consequence ? Marry her I must, or 
 be cut off with a shilling. Can I ever meet Zoe at 
 the altar, though her fatl er could give her all the 
 wealth of the Antilles ? If not, and my godfather's 
 health improve, how old shall Ann and I be — pre- 
 suming Otto Ghrimes remain content, and Zoe, too 
 — before we are free to safely please ourselves V 
 
 But Ann was firm. " Nothing should induce her 
 to be the cause of severance between Leonard and 
 his godfather. He had promised her to abide by 
 uncle Oliver's advice ; which was that " he should 
 let matters at Barbadoes rest as they were, at all 
 events so long as there was no compulsion for him to 
 give his hand in marriage to any but the woman of 
 his heart. Till he was required to do which, he 
 might perform his permitted part towards Zoe with- 
 out any great shock to his conscience — seeing how 
 many admirers she had, and that, come the worst, 
 and his godfather decided on the nuptials, he would 
 be free, as far as Zoe seemingly cared, to choose 
 between poor Ann Boys and her little expectations, 
 and a princely fortune that might well fill all the 
 handsome, dashing young gallants in the island with 
 jealousy — to think " what a wonderfully lucky fellow 
 Leonard Balfour was !" 
 
 So, there being no alternative but to be patient 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 and see what time might do for them, Ann obtained 
 leave from Shiphampton to prolong her stay at 
 Antigua " till Mr. Oliver Boys was tired of her." 
 And more than twelve months elapsed before uncle 
 Oliver began seriously to think whether — " now he 
 was beginning to weary of waiting for when she 
 would leave him" — she had better not make her home 
 there ? especially as Miss Agatha had now her niece 
 Prudence to live with her, who was " so amiable and 
 conformed to her ways in all things." 
 
 What could Leonard want more ? Ann was a 
 fixture at uncle Oliver's, within reach of him when- 
 ever he could steal away for a holiday from Barbadoes ; 
 Zoe, under Mr. George Molyneux's tuition, was sing- 
 ing serenades from morning to night; her father knew 
 no pleasure equal to studying hers ; godfather Home 
 was only too happy to leave well alone ; and as to 
 handsome, dashing Mr. George himself, there was 
 little doubt, happen what might, but that he would 
 make a very good husband, singing and playing as 
 beautifully as he did, if he stuck to his wife after 
 marriage as devotedly as he worshipped her before. 
 
 But it is dreary work waiting for dead-men's 
 shoes. Godfather Home, since Leonard's return 
 from Shiphampton, seemed to have ' taken a new 
 lease' of life, as he termed it. Whereas, everybody
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 35 
 
 predicted that his life was ( not worth two years' pur- 
 chase/ and that ' time had not yet laid its little finger 
 on uncle Oliver/ it was just the reverse. Basil 
 Home grew stouter and stronger. Poor Oliver Boys 
 had hardly congratulated himself on his acquisi- 
 tion of a housekeeper in Ann, — who would allow of 
 his taking regular exercise every day, to keep down 
 that tendency to corpulency which his doctor told 
 him ' was the only bar to his living beyond three 
 score and ten/ — when rather over-doing it one day, 
 he returned home exhausted, lay in bed for a week, 
 got up and about again for a little while, did his best 
 to convince Ann there was nothing the matter with 
 him, talked of the e walks he meant to take daily for 
 six months/ and before a fortnight was laid in his 
 grave. 
 
 What a sudden change of fortune for Leonard ? 
 Well if he knew how to use it wisely. Under ex- 
 citement, Leonard was apt to be heedless, rather 
 from a too sanguine temperament than because he 
 was selfish. So though he was now a rich man, 
 letter after letter came from uncle and aunt Balfour, 
 at Shiphampton, dissuading him from "breaking 
 with his eccentric godfather by a too hasty declara- 
 tion of his passion for Ann." For Basil Home by 
 no means relished the idea of losing Leonard's ser- 
 
 3—2
 
 36 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 vices, nor of his being so independent of bim ; and 
 it was no part of the Greystone House policy to 
 counsel any member of it, near or remote, to incur 
 future pains and penalties for present possession. In 
 fine, "Ann was to return to Shiphampton, with her 
 five thousand pounds' consols, just bequeathed her, 
 and live with uncle and aunt Balfour till they knew 
 Basil Home's further mind about Zoe. Till when it 
 was Leonard's duty and best wisdom to do all he 
 could to please him. What were a few years to wait — 
 supposing he had to wait — for such a fine fortune as 
 would be sure to be his, if he were patient and pru- 
 dent ? What knocked down so many in their mount 
 upwards in life, just before they reached the hill-top ? 
 Irresolution. What had carried the Balfours, in all 
 and through all, to the top of the ladder ? What 
 were the four indispensable qualities to raise the poor 
 man to honour and opulence ? Industry, honesty, 
 perseverance, and frugality. Yes, and though he 
 were industrious and prudent and frugal, he might 
 miss of his aim, without patience, which was the 
 best of all virtues, the safest and surest receipt for 
 success." 
 
 Leonard granted it. And had it not been for a 
 trifling circumstance that occurred between himself 
 and his godfather, touching Zoe Ghrimes's surprising
 
 HOME TIES AND KINDRED LINKS. 37 
 
 proficiency on the guitar, under Mr. George Moly- 
 neux, a day or two prior to Ann's intended departure 
 for England, in all probability he would have duti- 
 fully deferred to the wisdom of heads older and 
 wiser than his own — and well for him had he 
 done so.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Leonard's crooked policy and its results. 
 
 Uncle Oliver's death made Leonard Balfour a great 
 man ; but it by no means increased his godfather's 
 love for him. Basil Home would have preferred 
 keeping him a useful dependent on him till the end 
 of his days, as the surest means of securing his ser- 
 vices ; and was angry with Oliver Boys for dying 
 and depriving him of so valuable an assistant. Basil 
 Home loved power. Leonard came to him poor, 
 and left him rich ; and it remained to be seen how 
 he would now carry himself, whether with all due 
 recollection of what his godfather had done for him, 
 and still meant to do, if he pleased him ; or, by 
 1 riding the high horse,' he would so seriously pique 
 him, as to forfeit all further claim on his love. 
 
 Between the Homes and Balfours there had 
 always been petty jealousies; and as the Boys took the 
 Balfours' part, the Horn^s regarded them only in
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 39 
 
 the light of wealthy, opulent kinsfolk. So Basil 
 Home's extraordinary interest in Leonard originated 
 most likely in a spirit of rivalry towards Tristram 
 Balfour, who had opposed Leonard's going to Barba- 
 does on the ground of Basil's imperious temper, 
 and " what he himself would do for him if he stuck 
 to business in Shiphampton." It mightily tickled 
 godfather Basil's humour to think how he had won 
 the lad from uncle Tristram ; and it went far to re- 
 concile him to what he called " the Greystone House 
 airs and graces." But for the Boys he had no sym- 
 pathies ; and when he heard of Ann's arrival in 
 Antigua, and saw how elated Leonard was about it, 
 his brow darkened, and he got so cross and impatient, 
 that nothing would satisfy him. 
 
 It was necessary, therefore, that Leonard should 
 give all due weight to his knowledge of his god- 
 father's testy, tenacious character, and, if he wished 
 to be his heir, think well before he did anything so 
 suicidal as to refuse a wife of his choosing for him, 
 for the sake of Ann Boys. Basil Home had pledged 
 himself to Zoe's father beyond recall ; he also knew 
 perfectly well of Tristram and Joyce Balfour's active 
 interests in Ann ; which giving the spur to his 
 counter- efforts, in Zoe's favour, it behoved Leonard 
 to either submit to the force of circumstances and
 
 40 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 bid farewell to all thoughts of Ann for a wife ; or, if 
 he would have his own way, make up his mind to 
 pay the penalty for it, as most assuredly he would. 
 
 And he settled it in a way that many clever- 
 meaning people adopt, in extremity, with no other 
 escape for them, as they think, but so to manage it, 
 that, " come to the worst, they have hurt nobody 
 but themselves; which, after all, is no great crime, 
 and need trouble them very little." 
 
 Attached to Mr. Oliver Boys' household circle was 
 one, Faith Lincoln, his housekeeper, and chief home- 
 manager before Ann Boys' arrival in Antigua. She 
 was a native of Trinidad, had a large mixture of 
 English blood in her veins, was of pleasing manners 
 and appearance, well inf jrmed, keen-seeing, active ; 
 and though some said she could be { vigilant and 
 unscrupulous enough in taking care of herself,' Mr. 
 Boys had found her honest, and always treated her 
 with marked respect. She was a great favourite of 
 Ann's ; and Miss Ann Boys seemed to be no less a 
 favorite of Faith's. They took a fancy for each other 
 from the first. Faith Lincoln had a winning way 
 with her, when minded to please ; and Miss Ann was 
 made so welcome and comfortable by her at uncle 
 Oliver's, that it would have been strange indeed if 
 Ann had not warmed towards the only female
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 41 
 
 attendant she felt she could freely converse with, 
 simple-minded as she was, and unused to disguise 
 her feelings. 
 
 And Faith warmed towards her new young mis- 
 tress no less cordially; till there was so good an 
 understanding between them that Miss Ann opened 
 all her heart to her, including her devoted love for 
 her cousin Leonard ; which set Faith thinking how it 
 would be most expedient for her to act, " with due 
 regard to her own interests as well as others." 
 
 "When I say mistress, Ann, regarding the matter 
 relatively, hardly looked at Faith in that light. 
 "Whatever her mother may have bee^ her father was 
 a gentleman, and Mr. Oliver Boys had never treated 
 her as a menial. Nay, standing beside Miss Ann 
 Boys, as far as externals went, Faith Lincoln was 
 the more lady-like looking of the two. She had a 
 handsomer face, though as dark as a gipsy's, and a 
 handsomer figure, and there was that in her tone and 
 manner and deportment which told of better blood 
 and breeding than is usual with persons of her class. 
 Faith was also well informed ; care had been taken 
 with her education ; and rumour said that l her 
 father, though no scholar himself, was very proud of 
 her ; that he thought nothing too good for her, and 
 would have married her well, and left her all his
 
 42 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 money, but that he died insolvent before she grew 
 up; and so she was thrown on her friends and 
 obliged to get her living as best she could/ 
 
 Necessity by no means acts alike with us all. 
 Some it nerves, some it unnerves ; it spurs on this 
 person, and paralyses that ; there is no rule in the 
 matter, further than that it seems to be a very active 
 agent both for good and for evil ; and none the less 
 generally beneficial, act as it may, for developing the 
 bad in us as well as the good ; for " how else shall 
 ye know them except by their fruits ?" 
 
 It in no wise impaired Faith Lincoln's personal 
 charms. On the contrary, it gave increased impetus 
 to her proud blood, and fire to her eyes, and point 
 and purpose to her every gesture and movement ; 
 and by teaching her the value of those winning ways 
 which go so far in the world to make friends, added 
 so considerably to her good looks, that if Mr. Boys 
 had been matrimonially disposed, he might have 
 placed at the head of his table many a less stylish 
 wife than Faith Lincoln. But while it kept Faith's 
 wits at work, to make the most of her pleasing per- 
 son, it sharpened them also to the clear perception 
 that, " if she would ever be the real lady she hoped 
 for, she must trust to something safer and surer 
 than her face and figure — hundreds of handsomer
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 43 
 
 ones than which she had seen come to nought. And 
 why ? Ah ! there was the secret. It behoved 
 Faith Lincoln to steer clear of that rock. She had 
 her way to make in the world by her wits, and 
 "neither vanity, nor indolence, nor indiscretion, 
 should, if she knew it, defeat her." 
 
 She had been Mr. Oliver Boys' housekeeper about 
 two years when Miss Ann first came to Antigua'; 
 and he was so satisfied with her conduct — notwith- 
 standing the spiteful things said of her, as he con- 
 ceived them to be, before she entered his service — 
 that, at his death, she found herself richer by fifteen 
 hundred pounds than when she first set foot on the 
 island. It was a nice help to her, with the wide 
 world again before her to breast and buffet, and she 
 wrote to her friends in Trinidad, to " advise her how 
 best to act." 
 
 Some were of one opinion, some of another ; but 
 all agreed that she " could not do better than consult 
 one, Mr. Angelo Lyons, her late father's partner, 
 and esteemed by all who knew him as a most up- 
 right and excellent man. He would take an interest 
 in her which no one else would. He was a thorough 
 gentleman, as well as a thorough man of business ; 
 she could not be better than in his hands ; every- 
 thing he touched turned to gold ; he was rising
 
 44 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 rapidly ; and every one said her father might have 
 risen, too, to wealth and power, if he had been coun- 
 selled by Angelo Lyons." 
 
 It set Faith thinking. Her father began life well, 
 and when joined in partnership by Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons, was doing a good business as a merchant and 
 shipholder ; not three years after which he fell into 
 difficulties, and died deeply involved. But his estate 
 had since paid twenty shillings in the pound, by the 
 unflinching integrity and co-operation of Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons, his partner ; and now, ' out of the old 
 ruins was rising/ they said, c as promising a super- 
 structure, of its class, as was to be found in the West 
 Indies/ Clearly, Mr. Angelo Lyons was a clever 
 man. And Faith pondered, and pondered ; till at 
 last it struck her what she would do ; and, with her 
 customary calmness and resolution, she set about it. 
 
 Mr. Leonard Balfour offered her a home where 
 she was — u a comfortable home, and every kindness 
 he could show her ;" and Miss Ann Boys " made 
 sure she would gladly accept it." But Faith said 
 no. Her heart was with her old home in Trinidad, 
 where resided her mother's sister, a widow lady in 
 easy circumstances, who wished her to live with her. 
 There she should be near Mr. Angelo Lyons, who 
 would assist her to invest her little capital to advan-
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 45 
 
 tage. Remonstrances were in vain ; Faith's plans 
 were formed; she had accepted her Aunt Ruth's 
 offer, and " owed it to her, in return for many ser- 
 vices, to do all she could to please her. But it 
 deeply grieved her to part with Miss Boys." 
 
 It wanted but two days to the leave-taking, when 
 Leonard Balfour would be left alone. Miss Boys 
 was to sail for England next night, and Faith was 
 to depart for Trinidad the following morning. 
 Then " how dreadfully dull the house would be V s 
 
 What answer, but one, could Ann make. " Zeal 
 and patience were what they must look to, to bring 
 all things right in the end. Oh, how often they 
 had availed her in worse sorrows, where there was 
 no other help !" 
 
 Poor Leonard gulped it down. He knew it was 
 right. His trust in Ann was unbounded. A word 
 from her lips was enough ; she had vowed to love 
 him, and him alone, to the end of her days; and 
 she would keep her word. But must he part with 
 her ? and, if he did, who could say they should ever 
 meet again ? How short and uncertain was life ! 
 See how suddenly his Uncle Oliver was cut off ! 
 "Was it inevitable that Ann must leave him ? Why 
 was it ? But for Zoe Ghrimes, she would have been 
 his. His godfather could but disinherit him ; and
 
 46 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 what would all the wealth of the world be worth 
 without happiness ? 
 
 " Very true, sir/' agreed Faith Lincoln, in whose 
 hearing it was said. " Nothing \" 
 
 Whereupon ensued a long and earnest cabinet- 
 council between Mr. Leonard and Faith, relative to 
 the next day's intended doings ; and " how far he 
 ought, as a man, to make his hopes of happiness in this 
 world secondary to any other consideration on earth?" 
 
 Faith felt all the more inclination to speak her 
 mind freely on the subject, from her intimate know- 
 ledge of Mr. Basil Home. Indeed, he was dis- 
 tantly related to her, and more nearly so to Mr. 
 Angelo Lyons, her late father's partner, whose sis- 
 ter married a Home ; though there had never been 
 any great friendship between them. Still she knew 
 enough of Mr. Basil Home to be sure of this — he 
 was immovably fixed to whatever he had thoroughly 
 made up his mind to, and would never leave a shil- 
 ling of his money to the man who married a Boys 
 or a Balfour. He had sworn it when Miss Ann 
 came to Antigua, and change him who could ? 
 
 " Then," said Leonard, proudly, as he thought of 
 his independence, " I suppose I must either wed 
 Zoe Ghrimes, or wait till Mr. Home is no more, 
 when I can please myself, I presume."
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 47 
 
 Faith saw no alternative. 
 
 " There is just one other way," smiled Leonard, 
 turning pale. 
 
 " Pray, don't be rash, sir, 55 counselled Faith. 
 
 "To do neither," rejoined Leonard; "but to 
 marry Miss Ann out of hand, and so settle it for 
 ever and ever." 
 
 " Amen, sir \" said Faith, " if it would be for 
 your happiness, and hers. Miss Ann is a dear 
 young lady — worth a vast deal more than all the sil- 
 ver and gold !" 
 
 It was exactly what Leonard was thinking ; and 
 decided him to go at once to Ann and overrule her 
 objections. 
 
 Ann was startled. Every sense of propriety, of 
 prudence, of policy, shrank at the thought of sacri- 
 ficing the man she loved for the sake of herself; and 
 it was long before she would listen to any such 
 "cruel folly." 
 
 Faith would give no opinion ; though she " per- 
 fectly well knew what she should do, if the case 
 were her own.' 5 
 
 Ann leant an ear to that, 
 
 " You would not let me marry another, would 
 you, Faith, if you could help it ?" asked Leonard. 
 
 "No, sir."
 
 48 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Neither would you willingly act a deceitful part 
 in the matter ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Then, Faith, what would you do, to avoid both, 
 and stand right in your own eyes, if you were Leo- 
 nard Balfour ?" 
 
 " It depends, sir." 
 
 "On what?" 
 
 "Whether Miss Boys thinks Mr. Basil Home 
 would ever be brought to consent " 
 
 " To Mr. Leonard Balfour marrying me ? Oh, 
 no, never !" cried Ann ; "never !" 
 
 " So I fear/*' echoed Faith. 
 
 " And if so," rejoined Leonard, calmly, " and 
 we part (to Ann), and I go on deceiving him with 
 the belief that I shall make Miss Zoe my wife, and 
 he die, and make me his heir on the faith of it — 
 how would the gold profit us when we got it V 9 
 
 Ann had not thought of it in that light. 
 
 Nor had Faith Lincoln. But now Mr. Balfour 
 mentioned it, it seemed to her that he was " very 
 differently situated to what he was during Mr. Oliver 
 Boys' life. He was no longer dependent on any 
 one, and certainly had ample to marry the woman of 
 his choice, if he pleased." 
 
 " And if I don't do which now/' added Leonard,
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 49 
 
 " I see nothing for it but to either take Miss Zoe 
 Ghrimes for better or worse, or be wearing such a 
 double face always that I daren't look at myself in 
 the glass." 
 
 It took the blood out of Ann's cheeks. It had 
 never occurred to her before how Leonard's proud 
 spirit would suffer, thus continually blushing for 
 itself for her sake. How noble of him to acknow- 
 ledge it ! It made him look quite beautiful ! Ann 
 "did so like truth and candour; they went further 
 with her than anything ; convince her reason, and 
 no woman on earth was more open to conviction." 
 
 So now all that was wanting to make Ann one of 
 the cabinet council in good earnest, was to " con- 
 vince her reason;" and how was that to be done, to 
 Leonard's satisfaction, between then and the next 
 day? 
 
 Faith asked for an hour or two to "turn it over." 
 She had "a thought in her head;" and Leonard 
 left her to hatch it, full of confidence in her skill 
 and discretion. 
 
 Next day all three of them embarked for Tri- 
 nidad. 
 
 Yes, Faith had "turned it over;" and it appear- 
 ing to her that, as there was no particular hurry for 
 Miss Boys' return to Shiphampton, so there could 
 
 vol. i. 4
 
 50 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 be no reason why she should not see as much as 
 possible of the Western Isles, while she had the 
 opportunity. Mr. Oliver Boys meant to have taken 
 her with him to Trinidad, if he had lived. It was a 
 visit they had been looking forward to for some 
 time. Mr. Leonard was bound, in a measure, to 
 carry out his uncle's intentions; and Faith took it 
 on herself to insure them a hearty welcome from 
 her friends, when they got there. Her aunt Ruth, 
 in particular, would be delighted to see them. A 
 letter to Aunt Joyce, at Greystone House, was all 
 that was necessary to apprize her of Miss Ann's 
 prolonged sojourn among them ; and, as Mr. Leo- 
 nard had never seen Trinidad, he might " kill two 
 birds with one stone, and, as was his uncle's inten- 
 tion, combine business with pleasure." 
 
 It may be here repeated that Faith's aunt Ruth 
 was a person of good repute in Trinidad, to whom 
 her husband, Mr. Enoch Lyons, a substantial 
 planter, had bequeathed a very comfortable provi- 
 sion. There were ladies of better birth in the island, 
 on the mother's side ; but Mr. Enoch Lyons' ances- 
 tors were unimpeachable ; and though Ruth Lyons 
 had her detractors — nay, some went the length of 
 saying very shocking things of her — she mustered 
 round her elegant home a large circle of admiring
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 51 
 
 friends, ever ready to take her part and gladly par- 
 take of her hospitality. 
 
 My story takes but a glance at what else has to 
 be told of Ann's history, previous to the bitter cold 
 night on which the reader first made her acquaint- 
 ance, when she and Aunt Joyce were comfortably 
 sitting in the front parlour of Grey stone House, 
 pityingly looking at ' the poor black ' in the road, 
 casting imploring glances up at the window. 
 
 Ruth Lyons received her visitors from Antigua 
 with much warmth, and made them so welcome and 
 happy that Ann got quite dissipated, what with one 
 elegant entertainment or another; and Leonard so 
 gay and heedless, that before they had been a fort- 
 night in Trinidad they had settled it that " happi- 
 ness in this fickle world was the thing to be thought 
 of before riches." Which granted, it followed, that, 
 (i though we are certainly creatures of circumstances 
 to a great extent, we are so far free agents as to be 
 capable of controlling circumstances, in the majority 
 of cases, much easier than we choose to suppose/' 
 Which being also incontrovertible, " what would 
 ever recompense either Leonard Balfour or Ann 
 Boys, if, for the thirst for lucre, they forfeited such 
 a golden opportunity as was then within their reach 
 to be happy for ever and ever ?" In short, as the 
 
 4—2 
 
 Srt.umi"*
 
 52 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 day for Leonard's return to Antigua drew nearer, 
 and nearer, and the hour for Ann's bidding him 
 farewell, perhaps for ever, was definitively fixed, poor 
 Leonard grew so pensive, and Ann so pale, that one 
 fine morning they put an end to their tortures by 
 doing that which could not be undone, when the 
 parson had joined them together, and there was no 
 convenient ' divorce- court ' to fly to, if they altered 
 their minds. 
 
 It was " very sly," every one said, " of Mrs. Ruth 
 Lyons, to leave Trinidad for Jamaica so all of a sud- 
 den, and take her visitors with her, without wishing 
 good-bye. "What induced them to go there V 
 
 None knew. They went. It was a ' nine days' won- 
 der ' why ? When the gossips had something else to 
 talk of — and Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Balfour (to be) 
 sailed for France, together with Mrs. Ruth Lyons 
 and Faith Lincoln ; where they were privately mar- 
 ried, and spent their honeymoon. Twelve months 
 after which, Mrs. Leonard Balfour gave birth to a 
 son. That was incontestable. Though the event 
 was kept so secret, as also the marriage, that who- 
 ever else was privy to it, least of all had godfather 
 Home, of Barbadoes, the slightest suspicion but 
 that " it only rested with him and his rich neigh- 
 bour, Otto Ghrimes, to say the word, and such an
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 53 
 
 amalgamation of wealth and power would be ce- 
 mented between them, as would make the Greystone 
 House people open their eyes when they heard of 
 it!" 
 
 Why there should v have been so much mystery 
 and concealment about a marriage that might have 
 been made known to the world, without shame to 
 any one, may seem strange. Possibly the parties 
 least desirous of it were Ann and Leonard them- 
 selves. May be they yielded to others' opinions. 
 Certain it is Mr. Home, Leonard's godfather, was 
 kept in ignorance ; as was also indolent, indifferent 
 Otto Ghrimes ; till one day it came on them like a 
 thunderbolt — but of this in its place. 
 
 Leonard Balfour left his wife in France under the 
 matronly wing of Mrs. Ruth Lyons, who had taken 
 a romantic liking to her ; Faith also promising to 
 be unto her " a kind help and constant attendant at 
 all times, as long as they wanted her services." It 
 was " immaterial to Mrs. Ruth Lyons where she 
 resided ;" Faith " liked France exceedingly ;" and 
 as for poor Ann herself, she " could have lived there 
 or anywhere else happily enough, if only her be- 
 loved husband could have lived with her. To part 
 with whom, when he was obliged to return to 
 Antigua, was a struggle for Ann that nothing on
 
 54 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 earth would have persuaded her to encounter but 
 his promise that he would — come what might 
 — rejoin her at fixed periods ; yes, and ' declare 
 to the world their union the moment she wished 
 it.' 
 
 Alas ! for the greed of gain. Ann was a Boys 
 by birth, and Leonard was a Balfour. Who could 
 truly say of either house that it ever lost aught by 
 self-indulgence ? Employment t not enjoyment, was 
 the ruling canon of them both ; and, be sure, Uncle 
 Tristram and Aunt Joyce had a word to say on the 
 subject, when called on, in confidence, by Ann for 
 counsel and comfort in her perplexity. 
 
 Certainly the infirm state of Mr. Basil Home's 
 health favoured the presumption that his days were 
 drawing to a close. He might live years, or be taken 
 off, like his father was, suddenly. He was fat and 
 wheezy, and full-blooded and short-necked, and if 
 he went into a passion, which he often did, foamed 
 at the mouth so, it was frightful ! " So, would it be 
 prudent, would it be proper feeling for him," sug- 
 gested Aunt Joyce, " to perhaps shorten his days by 
 a communication, that — take it how he might — 
 would assuredly be such a shock to him ? Whereas, 
 if it pleased Heaven to call him away before it was 
 made known to him, they could never have it laid to
 
 LEONARD S CROOKED POLICY. DO 
 
 their door that by any act of theirs they had caused 
 him a pang/ 5 
 
 " What could Ann do ? Since girlhood, and she 
 had no mother to go to for love and guidance but 
 Aunt Joyce, she had been Ann's refuge and referee 
 in all trials and troubles : and now was she to give 
 heed to this, ' Auntie's counsel' or not ? It was a 
 hard struggle — prudence pulling one way, and pas- 
 sion the other. Leonard, too, gave her no help. 
 Nay, left to himself, it seemed to be the last thing 
 he thought of — whether his wealthy godfath er lived 
 one year or a hundred. For (< had he not enough 
 already in Antigua, without troubling and torturing 
 himself, waiting for dead-men's shoes ?" 
 
 " Still, if," as Aunt Joyce prudently put it, " Mr. 
 Home's health gave them little hopes of his surviving 
 another attack, such as he had last time, would they 
 ever forgive themselves, if, to gratify the wish upper- 
 most, they laid him on a sick bed again, and perhaps 
 killed him besides ?" 
 
 It merited grave reflection. Both Uncle Tristram 
 and Aunt Joyce were " perfectly clear about one 
 thing. — what they should do if the case were their 
 own. More fortunes in this world were forfeited by 
 haste and intemperance than anything else. What, 
 if they paid the penalty of their little indiscretion,
 
 56 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 in acting as they had done without first consulting 
 Aunt Joyce, and let, say twelve months elapse before 
 they made public their union, should it not have 
 reached Mr. Home by then, and his health were im- 
 proved ? What was a year's self-sacrifice in compari- 
 son with perhaps a whole life's unavailing regrets ? 
 They must give it their serious consideration. If it 
 reached Barbadoes that they were married, they must 
 bear the brunt of it as best they could ; but if not, 
 and Mr. Basil Home should be called away (as many 
 thought he would be long before twelve months more,) 
 how deeply they would deplore any precipitancy on 
 their part, the certain fatal consequences of which to 
 themselves they might reasonably hope to avert by 
 present prudence and forethought." 
 
 And was not this " precisely Mrs. Ruth Lyons' 
 view of the case ?" And had Faith " two opinions 
 about it ? A year ! What was that, as Aunt Joyce 
 said; what were twelve months to wait, compared 
 with the cruel separations many thousands of no less 
 loving hearts than theirs had to endure, for prudence 
 sake ? Twelve months ! It might not be three. Who, 
 in their senses, would rashly kick down such golden 
 hopes as Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Balfour would be 
 sure to realize, with a little patience ? Three months ! 
 A man who, broken as Mr. Basil Home was, went
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 57 
 
 into the dreadful rages he did for the slightest cause, 
 might be taken off in a moment. Could there be a 
 more charming country to live in than France ? Time 
 flew so fast with her, Faith Lincoln, that, for her 
 own part, she didn't know how she should ever be 
 able to exist, if obliged to return to that triste An- 
 tigua." 
 
 But it was compulsory for Leonard to make it his 
 home for a while ; he had no option ; and off at last 
 — poor Ann found how much easier it is, when 
 severed from the loved one, to valiantly preach and 
 prate about patience than to practise it. 
 
 And here Ann Balfour's early married history is 
 involved in mystery. Clearly, she resided in France 
 for some years, while her husband kept house in An- 
 tigna. Unquestionably, too, she presented Leonard 
 with a son and heir within twelve months of their 
 marriage. And no less certain is it that godfather 
 Home, of Barbadoes, was kept in profound ignorance 
 of their nuptials— by no means a difficult matter, 
 confined to his room as closely as he was with rheu- 
 matic gout, and being of a temper that no one cared 
 to come in contact with, if they could help it ; and, 
 furthermore, his neighbour Otto Ghrimes having no 
 eyes nor ears for anybody nor anything but his dar- 
 ling Zoe, and how to make money for her. Beyond
 
 58 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 which, all is obscurity with regard to what befell 
 Ann from the time she gave birth to her boy, to her 
 painful separation from her friend Mrs. Ruth Lyons 
 and Faith, after her Joss of poor little Leonard in 
 the strange way it happened at Pau, and his sub- 
 sequent death, as made known to her in the heart- 
 rending way to be revealed before the close of the 
 story. 
 
 Suffice it to say here, that Ann went through 
 much trouble during her forced separation from her 
 husband in France ; not a little aggravated by the 
 knowledge of how unhappy it made Leonard, as well 
 as herself, and how his deceit towards his godfather 
 preyed on his mind and undermined his health so, 
 that she was in perpetual dread lest that, and the 
 insalubrity of the climate, should lay him on a sick 
 bed and perhaps be his death. Ann had also another 
 trouble to contend with — for she had taken a deep 
 dislike to Mrs. Ruth Lyons. Why she hardly knew, 
 at first ; but since the birth of little Leonard, her 
 former confidence in Ruth Lyons had changed into 
 such a rooted distrust, that she obtained her hus- 
 band's consent to her occupying apartments of her 
 own in the environs of Pau ; since which, though 
 Mrs. Lyons was " the same as ever, to all appear- 
 ances, Ann "never met her," she told Leonard in
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 59 
 
 her letters, " but it sent a cold thrill through her 
 heart." But she continued to like Faith exceed- 
 ingly. 
 
 There was a pretty garden to the house near Pau, 
 in the Pyrenees, in which Ann Balfour resided, 
 with umbrageous walks round it, and fruits and 
 flowers in abundance ; which were what Ann loved, 
 for " they put her so in mind of home, and of the 
 joys she hoped yet to taste again before long, when 
 called by her husband to fill the social position she 
 was eDtitled to hold as his wife." 
 
 And Ann would take her baby out with her 
 among the roses and pinks and sweet-peas, and 
 under the pleasant shade of the poplars and acacias, 
 in summer, sit for hours with him in her lap, think- 
 ing of his father, and "when the longed-for day 
 would come that was to make her the happiest of 
 wives and mothers ?" And when other duties kept 
 her in-doors, her nurse Faith Lincoln would take 
 baby-boy for a walk round the strawberry beds; and 
 then through the shrubberies into the cherry orchard ; 
 and then ascending the hill-side till she came to her 
 favourite wild thyme and violet bank, — from which 
 she aud baby could discern dear mamma if she came 
 into the garden, — there sit down with little Leonard 
 in her lap, and read, or work, or think away the
 
 60 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 sunny afternoons under the beech-trees, till it was 
 time to go in again. 
 
 Nor had Ann Balfour any reason to complain of 
 Faith's vigilant care of her precious charge. For no 
 mother could devote herself more entirely to her 
 duties than did Faith, from the moment Master 
 Leonard held out his little arms to go to her — which 
 was proof positive how he loved her, and how wisely 
 his mother had done in selecting her for the place." 
 So Ann, when unable to take baby-boy out herself, 
 saw his nurse wind her way to the beech trees with 
 him, till she could rejoin them, or they her, with as 
 little doubt that she should see them back safe and 
 sound again in due time, as that " God was very 
 good to her, and had innocent little babies like her 
 darling boy especially under his protection." And 
 no doubt God was. But it pleased His inscrutable 
 wisdom and goodness to bring further affliction on 
 Ann — and that same afternoon of darling baby-boy's 
 last sleep in Faith's lap under l the beeches/ was a 
 heart-rending one for them all. 
 
 It seems that, lulled to rest in her lap, little Leon- 
 ard c fell off/ as usual; when giving way to the 
 irresistible drowsiness that stole over her, from the 
 heat and stillness and hum of the heath-bees round 
 her, Faith leant her back against the trunk of the
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 61 
 
 tree they were sitting under, and when she woke 
 from the deep sleep it produced — woe ! woe ! — baby- 
 was gone, — nor did all the bitter tears and lamenta- 
 tions, and searchings and scourings of the country 
 that followed, ever bring him back again. 
 
 But the robbers, whoever they were, had left a 
 bundle of old rags in the lap from which they stole 
 the boy, to supply his place ; and to these poor Ann 
 had alone to look, in her anguish, for any possible 
 clue to his discovery and recovery some day. It was 
 the sole hope left her, after the police ' could do no , 
 more/ and how she clung to it, in the teeth of 
 despair, what heart knew but her own ? 
 
 Leonard Balfour was ill in bed when the dark 
 tidings reached him of the loss of his child. It 
 nearly drove him mad; and for weeks he lay — 
 though it was not made known to his wife — delirious 
 with the brain fever it brought on. Then he rallied 
 so far as to be able to write and tell Ann " she 
 would see him at Pau in as short a while as it would 
 take him to journey there." But before he was well 
 enough to set off, came another tear-soaked epistle 
 from Ann, worse to bear than them all, to make 
 known to him that their beloved boy was dead — 
 that, as stated by the anonymous letter brought her 
 by the post that day, he was u drowned at sea on the
 
 G2 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Dutch coast, together with the two persons in charge 
 of him, a half-caste gipsy-looking man and woman, 
 who, after the wreck of the vessel, the Jeanne Jules, 
 a French trader, struggled, with the child lashed to 
 them, to get to shore, but were washed away, it was 
 supposed, by the surf." 
 
 And this was all the letter said, except that " what 
 it conveyed was the truth," and that " the boy was 
 stolen for reasons, which — now he was no more — 
 there was no need to trouble about." 
 
 Poor Leonard ! If well nigh distracted before, 
 at the thought of his loss, what help was there now 
 for him ? It crushed the last spark in him. Where- 
 as, he had clung, like Ann, to the forlorn hope that 
 Heaven would restore to them their treasure, now, 
 abandoning himself to the despairing belief that he 
 was forsaken of God for his wickedness in deceiving 
 his patron, Mr. Home, as he was doing, he was car- 
 ried, frantic, to his bed again, and before the doctor's 
 communication reached his wife, Leonard Balfour 
 was laid in his grave. 
 
 Childless and a widow, Ann sought solace where 
 alone she could find it. She had been piously 
 brought up, and had often experienced the healing 
 powers of faith and patience, under affliction j but 
 never till now did she know what that compassionate
 
 Leonard's crooked policy. 63 
 
 Saviour's bosom was, on which, in her utter help- 
 lessness, she humbly cast herself for aid and com- 
 fort. It recalled the nearly lost life in her; it 
 raised her from her sick-bed j it returned her to her 
 native home ; it restored her, in her widow's weeds, 
 to Aunt Joyce's arms ; it brought her there, deeply 
 smitten ; and there It was still, in all and through 
 all, for her to fall back on, when all else failed her. 
 And whatever else of trouble was in store for her, 
 when the poor ( black,' Abel, by name, came with 
 his piteous looks and plaintive ditties that bitter cold 
 night we spoke of at the beginning of my story, 
 putting her in mind of her desolateness, Ann felt 
 that strength in her which " could bear any load He 
 might see fit to place on her, whose succouring arm 
 was about and around her, and would never leave 
 her as long as she leant on it thus." 
 
 And this bringing us again to Greystone House, 
 and Aunt Joyce hobbling back on her tortoiseshell- 
 handled stick to her comfortable chair by the blazing 
 fire, — after seeing Abel through the wire-blind settle 
 himself, with his cap full of bread and meat and 
 pudding, on the stone step under the portico oppo- 
 site, to enjoy it, — we will resume the thread of our 
 narrative without further delay. 
 
 Naturally, the negro-face brought poor Leonard
 
 64 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 to Ann's thoughts again, if indeed he was ever out 
 of them; and closing the shutters, and drawing the 
 curtains, she sat down, with the tears in her eyes, 
 and for a minute or more dared not trust her 
 voice.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH ABEL, ' THE BLACK,' PLAYS AN UGLY 
 PART. 
 
 For a minute or more Ann and Aunt Joyce sat 
 buried in their own reflections ; when, seemingly 
 bethinking herself of something, " Strange !*' said 
 Aunt Balfour — rather muttering it to herself, as she 
 clasped her shrivelled hands tight in her lap, than 
 speaking it aloud — " strange ! that none of the 
 bodies were found, after the wreck of the Jeanne 
 Jules, and she went down within half a mile of the 
 shore." 
 
 Aunt Joyce had forgotten. She was getting old, 
 and her memory failed her. Five bodies were found 
 next tide, and among them the dead body of a gipsy 
 woman ; but her husband was washed away, and the 
 child with him. 
 
 This Ann had explained to Aunt Joyce often 
 before ; and now she listened again, to quite under- 
 
 vol. i. 5
 
 66 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 stand it. But somehow it seemed difficult to com- 
 prehend ; and even when she gravely nodded her 
 head, as if satisfied, Ann saw that to the last she 
 would cling to the belief, that, " as no one had seen 
 the child's drowned body, who could say he was 
 dead ?" 
 
 The mere thought of it blanched Ann's cheeks. 
 To hope such a thing was, she felt, most fruitless. 
 All the evidence she could collect went the other 
 way. The wreck was a certified fact; also that 
 " there were a gipsy-looking man and woman, with 
 a male baby in arms, exactly answering to the 
 description of little Leonard, on board the Jeanne 
 Jules, when she went down ;" also that " the 
 woman's dead body was washed ashore, but the 
 man's and child's were never seen again." Then 
 what hope was there that her baby could have 
 escaped, swallowed up. in the waves as they were 
 that dreadful day ? There was none. Yet did the 
 mother, spite of herself, sit and vacantly gaze at 
 Aunt Joyce's ominous mutterings to herself, and 
 shakes of the head, and " wonder she would not be 
 convinced, after all she had told her." 
 
 " No one has seen his dead body," muttered Aunt 
 Joyce to herself — drawn into a doze by the fire, — 
 " so how say he is drowned ?"
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 67 
 
 " Oh, God !" ejaculated Ann, giving vent to her 
 misery ; " what a burthen is mine !" 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! child/' rebuked Aunt Joyce, 
 rousing herself from her reverie ; " say not so. He 
 gives, and He takes away. Who are we, to dispute 
 His right ;" and then closing her eyes again — 
 " Hum — hum — no one saw his drowned body," she 
 kept murmuring — " then how say he is dead V 
 
 A groan broke from Ann's breast. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! child. Are we not His, to do as 
 He will with us ? He gives, and He takes away. 
 His will be done !" 
 
 "Amen!" sobbed Ann; and going again to her 
 1 comforter,' Aunt Joyce dozed and muttered on un- 
 interrupted. 
 
 And thus they sat in silence for some minutes; 
 when suddenly waking — "Ann, child!" said Aunt 
 Joyce, moving her chair closer to her, and clutching 
 her tight round the wrist; "who is that Angelo 
 Lyons, of Trinidad, eh ? old Mr. Lincoln's partner ? 
 Don't you know ? Next of kin to Basil Home, to 
 be sure, after your husband. Took the name of 
 Lyons, didn't he, with the Tobago estate, left him 
 by his kinsman Enoch? Ah, then, mind, child — 
 it's well for you that Oliver Boys did what he did 
 
 5—2
 
 68 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 for Leonard j else, it's little, methinks, Basil Home 
 would have done for Ann Balfour." 
 
 Ann looked bewildered. 
 
 " Don't you see, child— now your husband is gone 
 and your boy, too, eh ? eh ? — who conies next ? 
 Angelo Lyons, eh ? Yes, yes ! Though, by right, he 
 stood before Leonard. But Basil was always afraid 
 of him, and had Leonard there to keep him com- 
 pany. And now — eh — eh — how will it be ?" 
 
 " I know not, nor care," sighed Ann. 
 
 " For his money ? No, no, child ! Thank the 
 Great Giver ! you can do without that. Ah, my 
 child ! it is little we need here, to prepare us for 
 hereafter. Heaven be praised ! you have ample, 
 and over. But you see — this Angelo Lyons stands 
 first now — if — if — " and Aunt Joyce tightened her 
 grasp of Ann's wrist- — "Basil's heart don't melt 
 towards you, as it may at last, when his hour comes, 
 and he thinks of what Leonard did for him. Whe- 
 ther or no, it's Angelo Lyons stands next now. 
 Aye, aye, God's will be done ! But least of all need 
 he weep for what has happened. Hist, child — it's 
 a dark, deep mind that of Angelo Lyons'. But Basil 
 Home's is not a bad heart, left to itself — no, no !" 
 
 " Hark !" said Ann, as sounds of some one mov- 
 ing below caught her ear.
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 69 
 
 " It's Hester has got up, and come down for a 
 little, be sure," smiled Aunt Joyce, pleased to think 
 she was better. " And it's my belief, child," she 
 continued, without heeding Ann's listening ear, 
 " Basil Home's heart will yearn towards you, say or 
 do what they will. He never approved of Angelo 
 Lyons' quick rise after Gilbert Lincoln's death. Oh, 
 it's a dark, deep mind that of Angelo Lyons' ! 
 Well Basil may fear him. It used to turn your 
 
 uncle Tristram's face as white as a sheet, when " 
 
 "Hark !" repeated Ann, rising and going to the 
 
 door — " I fancied " 
 
 " So did I," said Aunt Joyce, raising herself up, 
 and hobbling into the passage — " that some one 
 crossed the hall — Hester ! Hester !" 
 
 But, if within hearing, Hester answered not; 
 and aunt and niece looked at each other, dumb- 
 struck. 
 
 "I heard a foot-fall," said Ann, dropping her 
 voice, as she stepped towards the stair-head leading 
 to the kitchen, " or my ears deceived me." 
 
 " The rat, maybe," muttered Aunt Joyce ; but, 
 nevertheless, visibly perplexed, as there had been 
 many robberies in Shiphampton of late, and it was 
 well known she kept large sums of money in the 
 house.
 
 70 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Ann listened at the stair-top. 
 
 All was still. When recollecting that she had 
 forgettingly gone to the back door, instead of the 
 front, with her plate-fall of food for the poor f black/ 
 and that very likely she had left it unlocked, and so 
 it had been blown open, perhaps, by the wind, Ann, 
 who was no coward, returned to the parlour, lighted 
 the taper on the mantle-shelf, and bidding her aunt 
 sit down again, had reached midway between the 
 stair foot and the kitchen door, when thinking she 
 heard something move in the dark closet under the 
 stairs, she was hesitating whether to look in it, or 
 not, when suddenly the light was blown out, and 
 before she could utter another cry — after the piercing 
 scream with which she struggled to escape from her 
 assailant,- — was silenced for ever by a blow that laid 
 her dead on the stones. Not two minutes after 
 which, aghast with fright, yet summoning by a 
 superhuman effort all her remaining old strength, to 
 hobble to the rescue, came Aunt Joyce, face to face 
 with features that to have seen once was to know 
 them for ever ; and staggering back at the sight of 
 them — it was no part of the murderer's design to 
 ever be identified, if he could help it, by those pierc- 
 ing old eyes, agonizedly rivetted on him ; so he had 
 but to raise his arm again — and then — when what
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 71 
 
 else was done that had to be done — get away as fast 
 as he could from the scene of slaughter. 
 
 Molly, the cook and housekeeper, was down town, 
 visiting her sick mother, and had leave to remain 
 with her all night ; and Hester was ill in bed up- 
 stairs, safely sleeping, under the promise made her 
 by Mrs. Ann Balfour that " she herself would see 
 to the fastening up of the house, and all else apper- 
 taining thereto, before they went to rest." And 
 Hester's sound sleep, from the composing draught 
 the doctor had given her, brought her to the early 
 morning without waking; when taking a drink of 
 the barley-water by her side, she lay down again, 
 nothing doubting but that " Molly would bring her 
 her breakfast as usual, and good, kind Mrs. Ann 
 Balfour come and see her, and read to her from 
 the Bible." 
 
 But it happening that Molly's mother was worse, 
 so that Molly could not leave her, to be back as soon 
 as she wished, the clocks struck half-past six ; and as 
 no one was moving below, Hester sat up to listen. 
 Till seven striking, she began to "wonder where 
 Molly was," and to " wonder, too, that so early a 
 riser as Mrs. Ann should have overslept herself so 
 long." But when eight came, and seemingly there 
 was no one to answer the repeated rings at the back
 
 72 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 door bell, Hester got uneasy, and huddling on her 
 clothes, went out on the landing to hearken. Ano- 
 ther ring ! Determined by which, and anxious to 
 ascertain if Molly had come in, she descended to the 
 basement, and must have passed, on her way to the 
 kitchen, within a step or two of the murdered 
 bodies, that she made so sure were safe and snug in 
 their warm beds, while she was striking a light. 
 
 The lighted candle showed her that Molly had 
 not returned, that the back door was locked and 
 bolted, and everything in its place, " as was always 
 looked to by Miss Balfour or Mrs. Ann before going 
 to bed. So of course Molly's mother can't be no 
 better," said Hester to herself, "or Molly would 
 have been back. But how strange that Mrs. Ann 
 isn't up, and she's never a-bed after six. Suppose I 
 go and see. Oh, dear ! how dull it do seem — no 
 one about by now." Whereupon extinguishing the 
 candle, which made the passage to the stairs so dark 
 that, with her thoughts on Molly and her mother, 
 she overstepped the stair-foot a little — Hester was 
 brought to recollection by " stumbling over some- 
 thing in her path;" and when Molly, with the 
 police, obtained an entrance presently afterwards — 
 but that poor Hester did just breathe when lifted up 
 from her frightful bed, there would have been none
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 73 
 
 left in the old house for Molly to mingle her tears 
 with, and seek companionship and consolation from, 
 in her bitter woe. 
 
 Oh, what a day for Shiphampton ! Who shall 
 depict it ? The direst poverty, struck down by the 
 assassin, collects its gaping crowds, and loudly claims 
 its rights at the hands of justice; but when ran the 
 breathless tidings from street to street, till not a house 
 within twenty miles but was ringing with it, that 
 "the richest woman in all Hampshire had been 
 foully murdered, as also her rich niece, and that 
 they were found, next morning, close to their own 
 kitchen, weltering in their blood," then was to be 
 S3en what wealth and rank and position stood for in 
 men's minds, when suddenly laid low, over and 
 above the humble, insignificant life which, when 
 lost, if it hurt nobody, benefited none. 
 
 Such a panic had never been known in Shiphamp- 
 ton before. Its richest House was gone. Sturdy 
 men talked of it with white lips, while their pale 
 frightened women and children gathered together, 
 aghast, in corners, and eagerly looked at each other 
 with straining eyes, and bated breath, for any and 
 every additional horrible particular they could draw 
 from each other, with shudders, with which to spice 
 the horrid feast. While on went rumour with its
 
 74 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 endless tongues, first pointing to this person, as the 
 culprit, then to that, then to the other, as the whim 
 seized them, till the old town was beside itself. 
 When came a cry — " They've got him I" And the 
 crowd round the Town Hall, to catch a sight of ' the 
 black's' guilty face, as they took him before the 
 magistrates, must have struck terror indeed into 
 Abel's soul — with that blood on his clothes, scarcely 
 dry, which he said " came dere from me cutting me 
 hand while eating de bread and de meat giben me 
 by de young lady." 
 
 " Guilty ! guilty \" yelled the mob ; and the old 
 town breathed again at the glorious thought of 
 
 ODD 
 
 u the law's omnipotence." 
 
 Clearly, appearances were against the man Abel, 
 f the black ;' nothing could look uglier. He had 
 been seen begging at Greystone House; and shortly 
 afterwards a passer by " observed him go to the front 
 door, and there stand, looking up at the windows, till 
 a lady, in mourning, brought him some food which he 
 w r ent opposite to eat under the portico of the house 
 facing it. And he was still in the same place when 
 he, the witness, returned from his errand to Water 
 Street ; for he particularly noticed the way ' the black' 
 seemed to bend himself all of a heap, to avoid notice; 
 and then sat up again, as soon as he thought he
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 75 
 
 was unobserved ; and then got up— for he, the wit- 
 ness, stood behind the corner of Harbour Lane and 
 watched him — got up and crossed the road towards 
 the back-way that led to the rear of the house, when 
 he lost sight of him. Furthermore, he, the witness, 
 was induced to keep his eye on him, from the man's 
 peculiarly forbidding countenance, which forcibly 
 struck him at the time as the most ferocious looking 
 negro-face he had ever seen in his life ; and he told 
 his wife so when he got home, and it had haunted 
 him ever since." 
 
 "Which bringing all eyes in court on the accused, 
 certainly his gloomy, downcast mien, coupled with 
 a contour of features exceedingly unprepossessing, 
 pleaded little in his favour ; and the presumptive 
 supposition of his guilt being very strong, notwith- 
 standing his indignant denials, Abel was remanded 
 in due form, for further evidence against him 
 before committal on the charge of murder. 
 
 Then, when he was brought up again, Abel was 
 calmer and more collected, and had his own tale to 
 tell the court. 
 
 "It is true/' he granted, "that me was hungry ; 
 and dat de young lady in de black, beside de old 
 lady wid de spectacles on at de great big house wid 
 de fire blazing, looked at me ober de blind, and called
 
 76 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 me to de door, and told me to wait dere till she 
 come back ; and then did come and gib me de bread 
 and meat and de pudding, which me did take and eat 
 on de steps under de house opposite. And when me 
 was cutting de meat into bits to put in me pocket, 
 me cut me hand, and dat was how de blood did come 
 on me clothes, dat's true. But no, me neber did go 
 to de back at all, me didn't, dat not true. But when 
 me got up and did cross de way, me saw a man, me 
 did," — and he shewed his ivory-white teeth at the 
 recollection, and grinned at the Bench, — " a man 
 who run into de road from de front, and come round 
 by me, bolt ! and when me did look at him, he 
 turned quick away he did, down de street to de riber, 
 and — and — dat dere is all me know, and me cannot 
 say no more, dat's true." 
 
 " And where is the knife he says he cut his hand 
 with, while cutting the meat V 9 asked the chairman, 
 addressing the policeman who took Abel in charge. 
 
 " It wasn't anywhere on his person, when we 
 searched him, your worship." 
 
 " Do you mean to say he hadn't a knife ?" 
 
 " Not that we found anywhere, your worship ;'' 
 and down went Abel's eyes on the ground, as if 
 crushed by it. 
 
 A murmur ran through the court.
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 77 
 
 "Silence!" 
 
 " Has search been made for the knife ?" 
 
 " Yes, your worship." 
 
 "And no knife, answering the description, has 
 been found, you say ?" 
 
 " None," your worship. 
 
 " Me had de knife on de step," said Abel, looking 
 up at the policeman by his side, " and me cut me 
 hand wid it, cutting me meat, dat's true." 
 
 " If so, he may have dropped it somewhere," sug- 
 gested the chairman, " and it may yet be found." 
 
 Whereupon there was remand the second till that 
 day week, for further evidence; and the prisoner 
 went back to his prison. 
 
 And on his next appearance before their worships, 
 Abel had to face an ugly fact made known to the 
 court that day, viz., that "no knife had been found 
 answering the description given by the accused of 
 the one with which he said he cut his hand the deep 
 gash on it while, shivering with cold, he was eating 
 the food he got from the young lady at Greystone 
 House. Every possible search had been made for it, 
 in vain ; nor had any instrument been discovered, as 
 yet, with which the murder could have been com- 
 mitted." 
 
 What said the prisoner at the bar ?
 
 78 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Nothing for a minute or two, while all eyes in 
 court were greedily devouring his downcast looks 
 and sullen silence ; when seemingly roused by the 
 thoughts working in him which he was trying to shape 
 into fitting words for their worships — 
 
 " Me cut de victuals wid me knife on de step," he 
 said, composedly glancing up at the officer by his 
 side, " dat's true — me knife dat me Massa gib me 
 dat day at Trinidad — me Massa, Mr. Merric 
 Lincoln ob Tobago — dat day he come and say e Abel, 
 cut de cord ob de box dere ;' and me hadn't me knife, 
 and he say ' keep dat, Abel, dat's yours/dat knife, 
 and welcome ;' and dat's true me cut me meat wid 
 it, and cut me hand, it is." 
 
 And it was spoken so apparently unpremedi- 
 tatedly, and with such almost childish concern for 
 the loss of his property, that the magistrates looked at 
 each other, as if at fault what to think. But as the 
 police stuck to it that " from sundry communications 
 they had received, they had no doubt they should be 
 able to make out a case to go to a jury, if time were 
 given them," back went Abel again to his lonely 
 cell, to chew the bitter cud of his many woes, while 
 the law was at work in his behalf — not the least of 
 which seemed to be the irreparable loss of his knife. 
 It appeared to distress him more than all the rest
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 79 
 
 put together, more than even the groans and hissing 
 and hootings of the mob collected to catch a sight 
 of his black face at the court house and the lock-up. 
 He grinned at them, and shewed his white teeth and 
 the whites of his eyes, as if in derision ; but his brow 
 grew darker and darker when f no knife could be 
 found/ and he could give no satisfactory description 
 of the man he said " came out ob de front door ob 
 de great big house," when he was crossing the road, 
 " and did run against me so quick at de corner, dat 
 we both slip down on de ice — and when me got up, 
 de man was gone, dat's true." 
 
 But this ' collision at the corner, on the slippery 
 road/ being a new feature in the case, not mentioned 
 by the prisoner before, it rather told against than 
 for him. And it further transpiring what a vaga- 
 bond-life he had been leading from town to town, 
 with his bundle of ballads, for months past, while 
 professing to be unable to return to his wife and 
 children in Tobago, from want of means to get back 
 to them, as also the several petty crimes that had 
 been committed where he had shown his face, and 
 which were now swelling the charge — what were the 
 magistrates to do ? 
 
 Clearly, by all rules of justice — as, after more 
 than a month spent in fruitless remands, there was
 
 80 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 no case to send to a jury — to forthwith release the 
 accused ; and be very sorry, if he were innocent, that 
 he had suffered so much at their hands ; but still 
 more so, if he were guilty, that the " omnipotence 
 of the law," as they called it, was often so impotent 
 to vindicate itself as it should do. 
 
 Abel White was at large. And so convinced 
 were some ultra-philanthropical old ladies and gen- 
 tlemen of his innocence, in the teeth of the almost 
 universal belief in his guilt, that a sum of money 
 w r as collected in the town, wherewith to ship him 
 off to Tobago. Where he arrived " hale and hearty," 
 they said, " though never ceasing throughout the 
 voyage to deplore, above all things, the loss of his 
 knife; over the thought of which he would shed 
 tears, when talking of it ; for he declared he ' lubbed 
 it as he lubbed his life.' " 
 
 But Abel never seemed willing to be questioned 
 about the man he said came out of the front door 
 of Greystone House, and ran against him at the 
 corner of River Street. Or if he deigned to give 
 any further particulars on the subject, there was 
 always a strange reserve in his answers and manner, 
 which sometimes left the impression on the captain's 
 mind that he knew more than he chose to acknow- 
 ledge ; and that, though his, Abel's, was not the
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 81 
 
 hand perhaps which struck the blows, he was not as 
 ignorant as he pretended to be of whose murderous 
 arm it was by which the unfortunate ladies came by 
 their dreadful death. It was strange, too, that he 
 should have been so near the house all the time, and 
 seen no one go in, nor heard any noise. And if 
 access had been obtained to the kitchen by the back 
 way, how was it the yard door was barred and bolted, 
 and the scullery door locked inside ? True, the 
 murderer might have got in and concealed himself 
 somewhere, before Mrs. Ann Balfour fastened up, 
 after Mary Balls left to go to her mother ; in which 
 case, he might have quitted the house, after the 
 murder, by the front door, as Abel had said. Or 
 Mrs. Ann Balfour might have forgotten to fasten 
 the scullery door, which opened into the yard, and 
 so the murderer had got in that way, and, as a 
 blind, locked and bolted it, before his escape. Still, 
 how was it possible that two persons could be brutally 
 slain, as the old lady and her niece were, on the 
 same spot almost, by one man ? Or if they were, 
 was it likely any one, not deaf, could have been 
 sitting where Abel was, under the portico of the 
 house opposite, and known nothing about it ? It was 
 very mysterious. And, truth to speak, Abel's eva- 
 sive manner, when narrowly interrogated thereon, 
 vol. i. 6
 
 82 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 was, to say the least, anything but favourable to 
 himself. But for this he appeared to care nothing, 
 his thoughts being seemingly engrossed with the 
 loss of his knife, and the little likelihood there was 
 of his ever seeing it again. He was continually 
 dwelling on it, and on " how it must have dropped 
 from me pocket, when de man ran against me, and 
 me slipped down, and de man, too." 
 
 This he firmly adhered to ; there was no hesita- 
 tion with him about it ; he would " be sworn before 
 God, as he hoped for mercy in Heaven," that he saw 
 a man leave the house by the front way, who, turn- 
 ing quick round the corner of River Street, came 
 bolt against him, and down they both went in the 
 road, when the knife must have fallen from his 
 pocket. Since when all had gone wrong with him. 
 And it was " what he was told would happen, as 
 no good ever came of such gifts. Yes, yes !" he 
 would add, while the tears rolled down his cheeks j 
 a no good come to me den, dat's true. Me got 
 taken up, me did, and shut in de dark, and hissed 
 and hooted at, like de wild beasts, for — oh, God ! — 
 killing de old lady and de young lady dat gib me 
 food, and say ' what's your name, poor man V and 
 smile at me so sweet when she empty de victuals 
 into me hat ? — which was de great lie, it was, dat's
 
 ABEL, THE BLACK. 83 
 
 true I Me kill de young lady dat was kind to Abel, 
 and say ' poor man/ and ' good night, Abel V — me 
 do dat ?" and contenting himself with indignantly 
 shaking his woolly head, while his throat was too 
 full to say more — if Abel, ' the black/ was acting 
 the hypocrite, to deceive the captain and crew, oh, 
 what a black hypocrite he was ! 
 
 And it must be admitted that this was the light 
 in which Abel was regarded by ninety-nine out of a 
 hundred in Shiphampton. Except by the extreme 
 philanthropic few, he was universally believed to be 
 a monster of iniquity and pretence. Few had any 
 doubt of his guilt ; and even those most inclined to 
 adjudge him innocent, till he was proved to be 
 otherwise, listened with perturbed brows to the fact 
 of * no knife having been found/ though every 
 search had been made for it ; till they could not but 
 grant that ' it looked very bad.' As also his al- 
 leged ' collision with the man in the road / no such 
 person as he represented him to be having been seen 
 by any one in Shiphampton, either before the mur- 
 der or after it, in or about the town, or leaving it 
 by railway or any other conveyance whatever. 
 
 But Abel heard nothing of the smothered storm 
 he left behind him, and landed on his native shores 
 seemingly with but one anxiety at heart, and that 
 
 6—2
 
 84 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 was for ' the loss of his knife.' Nor could all the 
 arguments of his wife and children, when, with 
 tears, he told them of it, and the shocking trouble 
 it had caused him, do more than make him think of 
 it the oftener, and keep repeating " no, no — no more 
 luck for Abel, now me lost me knife."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SEES MR. ANGELO LYONS IN POSSESSION OF HIS 
 RIGHTS, AND GREYSTONE HOUSE IN THE HANDS 
 OF THE RABBLE. 
 
 The appalling news of the Greystone House tragedy- 
 had reached the West Indies before Abel arrived at 
 Tobago j and, as may be supposed, his acquittal was 
 hailed with no little relief of mind by his friends. 
 Still, it is no light matter to be remanded by the 
 magistrates, from week to week, for "more than a 
 month, on a charge of murder; and composedly 
 as he encountered the curious eyes on him where- 
 ever he showed his face, when he first landed, Abel 
 could not but be aware that he was a marked man, 
 with the sort of unenviable mark, too, pointing him 
 out wherever he went, which he would have gladly 
 dispensed with if he could. 
 
 But though Abel was keenly alive to the fact that, 
 although acquitted by their worships of Shiphamp-
 
 86 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 ton, the magistracy of Tobago and its sister islands 
 kept him continually in view, it is due to him to 
 admit that he bore the surveillance to which it sub- 
 jected him with exemplary grace; never betraying 
 the slightest irritation under the many stings and 
 bitternesses he must have felt, if innocent, but rather 
 seeming to grin within himself at his own clear con- 
 science, and only to be put out of temper by the 
 inconsolable thought of the loss of his knife. 
 
 And it was these fits of vexation, when it was 
 alluded to by any one, that kept up in people's 
 minds a suspicion that " Abel had his own reasons 
 for being so troubled about it." Many being of 
 opinion that " what he feared most was — not that 
 the knife was irretrievably lost, but whether it would 
 ever be found ?" Whether or no, Abel made no 
 secret of his grief, and seemingly expected every one 
 to sympathize with him. It gained him some steady 
 adherents; but, truth to speak, even his warmest 
 partisans deplored the unfortunate loss of the knife, 
 and never seemed to like to dwell longer than they 
 could help on that part of the story. 
 
 The c house'' of Balfour, Balfour and Son had 
 been long known in the West Indies, not a British 
 island of which but had, from the time of its first 
 establishment in Shiphampton, largely contributed
 
 IN POSSESSION. 87 
 
 to freight its ships and fill its coffers. It was essen- 
 tially a West India ' house.' For though it dis- 
 dained not to do business with the East, where it 
 1 saw its way clear/ and had ' made a pretty penny 
 at one time or another by its lucrative relations with 
 Bengal and Calcutta/ its wealth, as a House, was 
 drawn from the West. So that it may be conceived 
 what a sensation was created there when came the 
 dreadful intelligence of its terrible end. For now, 
 as Mr. Leonard Balfour was dead, his Aunt Joyce 
 was the last direct branch of the line, and the ques- 
 tion was, " To whom would the business and bulk of 
 their riches go, if, by a clause in old Roderick Bal- 
 four, the great-grandfather's will, the House and 
 freeholds in Shiphampton, together with all the 
 other freehold and copyhold and leasehold estates in 
 Hampshire and Sussex, of which he died possessed, 
 were so entailed, that, in the event of no lineal 
 descendant lawfully claiming them, they should de- 
 volve to the Town Council of the ancient Borough 
 of Shiphampton ? " in grateful remembrance of what 
 it had done for the Balfours — to be by them held, in 
 trust, for such purpose or purposes as, in their dis- 
 cretion, or by a majority of votes, they might con- 
 sider would best benefit the Borough, and also per- 
 manently redound to the credit of the donor V 1
 
 S3 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Who was the next lineal descendant, if any ? 
 
 It was a question of deep interest to many, but to 
 none more so than to Mr. Basil Home, of Barba- 
 does. Not from any expectation of personal advan- 
 tage ; for though related to the Balfours by the mar- 
 riage of his sister to a Shiphampton Boys, "the 
 blood of the rival houses had never mingled," or, 
 rather, the hostile hearts of the opulent Homes and 
 Balfours. But Basil Horne retained a fond recol- 
 lection of his god-son Leonard, whose premature 
 death had greatly shocked him ; none the less be- 
 cause, by it, he was brought again into compulsory 
 contact with his kinsman Angelo Lyons, of Trinidad, 
 his next of kin, a man he never liked, but to shake 
 off whom, now Leonard was gone, was much easier 
 to talk about than to do. For Angelo Lyons had a 
 wonderfully calm and persistent way of laying down 
 and carrying out his plans, if so minded ; and now 
 that "poor Mr. Horne was such a sufferer, and was 
 left so much alone, it behoved him, as his nearest 
 relative, to make the remainder of his days as plea- 
 sant to him as he could." 
 
 And Angelo Lyons was having it pretty well his 
 own way with his invalid kinsman, who feared him 
 too much to oppose him, when, shortly after Angelo's 
 return from a visit to Mrs. Ruth Lyons, in France,
 
 IN POSSESSION. 89 
 
 the news reached them of the foul murder of Mrs. 
 Joyce Balfour and her niece, of Shiphampton. 
 
 Ill as he was, Basil Home sprang from his bed 
 when he heard it, and fixing his terrified gaze on his 
 kinsman Angelo, stood, with his lips apart and his 
 tongue cleaving, paralysed, to the roof of his mouth, 
 as if out of his senses. 
 
 Men show their horror at frightful tidings in dif- 
 ferent ways. Outward signs are little to go by. 
 Some shed tears; while others, over even their 
 children's and mothers' biers, are, with bursting 
 hearts, as dry-eyed as if they felt nothing. Basil 
 Home, dumb-struck, stood staring at Angelo Lyons 
 in speechless awe ! but not a tear came, however full 
 his heart was — whereas, Angelo hid his face in his 
 hands, and, with choking breast, bore testimony to 
 the ' generous emotions of a nature, as his admirers 
 expressed it, which, cold and callous and calculating 
 as those who little knew him called it, knew no 
 luxury, where he felt he might indulge it, like think- 
 ing and feeling for others.' 
 
 It was a noble character to have. And still with 
 his startled eyes rivetted on him, Basil Home stood 
 transfixed with the rush of conflicting thoughts that 
 came over him, as he saw " the man of steel," as 
 he called his unimpassioned kinsman, weeping;
 
 90 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 while he himself, a mere creature of impulse by his 
 side, could not have forced a tear down his cheeks, 
 to have saved his life. And it affected Basil the 
 more, for this reason — because the day before Angelo 
 Lyons left him, after Leonard's death, to visit his 
 sister in France, Basil mentioned to him how "his 
 neighbour, Otto Ghrimes, had kept him in ignorance 
 of his daughter Zoe's attachment for Mr. George 
 Molineux, whereby his god-son Leonard could not 
 have married her, if he would. Therefore that all 
 his anger against Ann Balfour had ceased, and that, 
 under the circumstances, he thought he was bound 
 to do for her, in his will, the same as he would have 
 done for Leonard." Which being the same thing, 
 in effect, as saying to Angelo, " There is one who 
 must still stand before you, please to understand 
 that," — it did seem so nobly disinterested of An- 
 gelo, thus to be grieved at a loss which would pro- 
 bably put into his pocket before long more than 
 Forty Thousand pounds, that Basil Home was con- 
 scious of the first thrill of interest he had ever felt 
 for him, little as Angelo, absorbed in sorrow, seemed 
 to know it. 
 
 And Basil Home had more reasons than that for 
 staring amazed at his lucky kinsman, who being, on 
 his mother's side, " lineally related in some way to
 
 IN POSSESSION. 91 
 
 great-grandfather Roderick Balfour, of blessed mem- 
 ory — what a wealthy man he had become all of a 
 sudden by the shocking deaths that had occurred in 
 the family, and " how meekly he took his great 
 fortune \" 
 
 It literally stunned Basil Home to think how 
 " some were momentarily enriched in this world, 
 with the least seeming hopes of it, while those, who, 
 like himself, had been industriously plodding on all 
 their lives for a competence, had hardly secured it 
 before they were thrown on their backs, for others to 
 enjoy the fruits of their labours. TVhat a brilliant 
 career was now open to Angelo Lyons ! if he could 
 prove his title to The Balfour Estates. And see 
 how he began life, under Merrick Lincoln, with- 
 out a penny ! Now look at him \" and dumb struck 
 by it, Basil stared — and Angelo wept — with no 
 words to express their mutual emotion. 
 
 One's rich relatives and one's poor relatives are 
 widely different persons — and Basil Home began to 
 feel a pride in his Trinidad kinsman that he had 
 never felt before. He had always thought him emi- 
 nently handsome ; though, being of a florid com- 
 plexion himself, he would have liked a little more 
 blood in Angelo's face, which was of marble paleness, 
 and so severely classical that it always chilled Basil
 
 92 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 to look at it, ordinarily featured as his own was, and 
 bloatedly sensual. Basil Home had always admired 
 Angelo Lyons' Italian cast of features, and his tall, 
 elegant, graceful figure, and polished air and address ; 
 but had never till now noticed " what a superior 
 mind he had to the generality of his West India 
 acquaintances, and how he evidently was intended 
 by nature to rule. It was stamped on his every 
 gesture and movement. Clearly, he was born to be 
 great. Greatness sat gracefully on him, as on one 
 who deserved, and adorned it. His calmness had 
 depth and strength in it, and his meekness was the 
 type of a high mind. Power seemed accorded to 
 him, rather than to be claimed, and, by the generous 
 use he made of it for the good of others, to be An- 
 gelo Lyons's right. Evidently he was destined to 
 exalt and ennoble his race; and it was now the 
 bounden duty, as it would be to the pleasure and 
 profit of his friends, to promote to the utmost of 
 their power the consummation of so laudable a 
 result." 
 
 In short, independent as he deemed himself, 
 Basil Home was a bit of a parasite. And though 
 his weeping kinsman's face was buried in his hands, 
 with the grief into which the shocking news of the 
 Greystone House murder had plunged him, no doubt
 
 IN POSSESSION. 93 
 
 Angelo Lyons knew his man and how to interpret 
 him. He well knew how it would have fared with 
 him, at Basil's hands, had Leonard been living ; and 
 owed him small thanks for it, with his unquestion- 
 able priority of claim. 
 
 " But away with all that !" exclaimed Angelo 
 to himself. " The irresistible course of events is 
 working its own destined ends. What is to be, will 
 be. Could I help it, if I would ? What hand had 
 I in my own making ? Who or what stamped these 
 eyes and this nose and mouth on this pale face of 
 mine ? and gave me black hair, instead of red, like 
 my father's ? Yes, and my mother's was flaxen, too. 
 It was chance, was it ? Whether or no, as it is, so it 
 must stay, black. Am I pale — why ? Am I passion- 
 ate — why ? Am I ambitious — why ? Am I ugly — 
 why ? Am I beautiful — why ? Am I clever — why ? 
 Am I a fool ? — pshaw ! — ( a fool shall be known by 
 his folly' — it was so said at his conception — shall be 
 — poor fool ! — he was made so — and shall be so — 
 poor fool ! — Yes, the irresistible course of events will 
 work its own ends. But Basil Home's influence 
 will help to establish my title under Roderick Bal- 
 four's will. A means to the end. What was to be, 
 will be. Which done — yes, yes — I shall know how 
 to be grateful to him, and to the rest of them, who
 
 94 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 — think of that — ' always predicated I should be a 
 great man' — ha ! ha !" 
 
 And here, as it would interest the reader very 
 little to be dragged into a court of equity, as the 
 Town Council of the ancient Borough of Shiphamp- 
 ton were, in self-defence, by Mr. Angelo- Lyons, 
 suffice it to say that few Town Councils, with all but 
 Two Hundred and Fifty Thousand pounds, sterling, 
 in their hands, could have behaved more handsomely 
 than did the Town Council of the ancient borough 
 of Shiphampton, when Mr. Angelo and his advocates 
 having got the day, they unhesitatingly relinquished 
 all claim to the Balfour property in favour of that 
 gentleman ; on which he took possession accordingly. 
 Nay, they shook hands, across the seas, about it in 
 the most cordial way, and exchanged mutual compli- 
 ments and congratulations exceedingly creditable to 
 them both. It having " distressed the one quite as 
 much as the other, that there should have arisen a 
 dissentient opinion between them; in either case 
 solely induced by one motive^ — the anxious desire for 
 the equitable settlement of a question at law which 
 could in no other way be finally arrived at with 
 satisfaction to all." 
 
 How nice ! when such great questions at issue, 
 involving the right, or otherwise, to Two Hundred
 
 IN POSSESSION. 95 
 
 and Fifty thousand pounds, are adjusted thus easily. 
 Well Angelo Lyons, " man of steel/' as Basil Home 
 called him — might warm towards the Town Council, 
 and the Town Council towards him. And how still 
 more gratifying it was when it transpired, that, " as 
 soon as Mr. Angelo Lyons could quit Trinidad, he 
 intended to fix his residence in Shiphampton ; until 
 when, the business of Balfour and Co. would be con- 
 ducted, as usual, by competent hands." 
 
 The which giving the good folks of the ancient 
 borough something else to talk about, the murder of 
 poor Aunt Joyce and her niece was dropped by degrees 
 — the rabble having exhausted their ire long ago on 
 the last pane of undemolished glass within stone's 
 reach of Greystone House, back and front. In sober 
 truth, it presented a pitiable spectacle. So lately 
 the fairest and most flourishing house in the town — 
 now look at it ! What an end for the great House of 
 Balfour, Balfour and Co. to come to ! Who could say 
 what might happen in this life ? Oh, what a desolate 
 look it had ! what a ghastly tale it told ! Who would 
 ever live in it again, with those indelible blood- 
 stains in it which could never be washed out ? The 
 stone walls were too strong to be battered down, so 
 they stood ; but who that had looked up at them, 
 with pride, six months back, could have recognized
 
 96 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 them now ? Of ^rey-stone were they, glittering in the 
 sun like diamonds ? True, here and there might be 
 discerned faint traces of the old face, but so bedaubed 
 and mauled with mud and dirt and great black 
 smears and patches — as if some one had purposely 
 scaled from window to window, and, when no further 
 havoc could be done, thus wrecked his farewell venge- 
 ance on it — as scarcely to be visible. Thenceforth 
 it should be called Blackstone House, not grey. 
 And so it was by the crowds that came to see and 
 pelt it. Till the work of demolition done, they 
 passed it by, as they would a felon hung in chains 
 — who, having had his deserts, might now be left to 
 tell his own ghastly tale to the winds, and point his 
 own ghastly moral. 
 
 Of course Mr. Angelo Lyons was made acquainted 
 by his agents with the deplorable condition to which 
 Greystone House had been reduced by the mob j but 
 judged it best to let it remain as it was till the po- 
 pular fury had in a measure subsided. " By when 
 he should in all probability have settled his affairs 
 in the West Indies, with the view of making Ship- 
 hampton his home ; and then he would have the 
 house put in order again, when he could personally 
 attend to it as he wished." 
 
 And he decided wisely in leaving it to time to
 
 IN POSSESSION. 97 
 
 gradually erase from 'memory the first 'furious rage 
 of the rabble, when 'the black,' Abel White, the 
 murderer, as they believed him to be, escaped as he 
 did. Then their vengeance knew no bounds, and 
 they madly vented it as they could. The u accursed 
 house, " as they called it, should be rased to the 
 ground ; " for out of its riches how much had ever 
 gone to the poor ? Ask John Strong, the tax- 
 gatherer." And on went the demolition; till the 
 law forcibly taking possession of the walls and what 
 was inside them — ic what was done was done, and it 
 would be time enough to think of repairing it, if 
 ever, when the right owner came/' 
 
 " It's my hopinion," quoth John Strong to Mr. 
 Gribble, the Borough solicitor of Ship Street, (( my 
 firm hopinion, Mr. Gribble " 
 
 " Hem— what, John V 9 
 
 " That he did it, as sure as you're born, sir." 
 
 " Hem — ' the black'? Yes, dreadful-looking 
 fellow, wasn't he V 1 
 
 " The hawfullest face, Mr. Gribble, I hever saw 
 in my life ! It turns me stone cold to think of it. 
 Think of his using his knife that he'd just been 
 cutting the victuals with they gave him at the house, 
 for thati" 
 
 Mr. Gribble shuddered. 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 u Iii all your hexperience of criminals, Mr. 
 Gribble" — and John Strong turned as pale as a 
 ghost — " did you Lever hear the like of that by a 
 human creature ?" 
 
 " Horrid ! horrid ! John." 
 
 t{ To cut off an ear of heach of 'em — the right ear 
 of the one, and the left ear of the hother — there's 
 a brute ! And what for ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Gribble, meditatively — " what 
 for? That's the blackest part of it, John. It 
 wasn't plunder they wanted, or why not have taken 
 the purse-full of notes and gold in Mrs. Ann Bal- 
 four's pocket ? Hem — brutal — savage — atrocious, 
 inexplicable act that — cutting the ears off — inexpli- 
 cable !" 
 
 " Unless," rejoined John, with livid lipg, " it's 
 what Doctor Bruce says they do — -them negro devils 
 in the West Hindies — cuts the ears hoff of their 
 victims and carries them away with them not to be 
 haunted by their spectres. There's a hact !" 
 
 Mr. Gribble started ! 
 
 " Yes," went on John, with flashing eyes, " it's 
 their belief — the belief of them black devils that does 
 such deeds — that, if they've the ears of their mur- 
 dered victims, they'll never be haunted by 'em. 
 There's hanimals !"
 
 IN POSSESSION. 99 
 
 It plunged Mr. Gribble into deeper meditation 
 than ever; while the tax-gatherer explained to him 
 that " it was quite true what Doctor Bruce said, for 
 he shewed it him in print ; and how them negro- 
 fiends thought no more of spilling blood, or poison- 
 ing, than heating their dinners. And don't that 
 show," added Mr. John, u where that blood came 
 from on his clothes ? And there he is, at large, the 
 miscreant ! to laugh at us. It's hawful !" 
 
 u Abel "White, you mean, John ?" 
 
 " White !" hissed Mr. John, with clenched teeth 
 " A. blacker monster never walked the hearth ! But 
 c they'll have him yet/ as Doctor Bruce says. ( He'll 
 cut a ear hoff too many one of these days ;' and John 
 Strong chuckled at the thought of " how the majesty 
 of the law would be vindicated then." 
 
 In truth, from all he could judge, Mr. Gribble, 
 the Borough Attorney, had mercifully leaned rather 
 to the belief of Abel White's innocence than his 
 guilt. Jonathan Gribble <: went by the evidence ;" 
 he " had nothing to do with the town's talk." At 
 all events, though appearances were so ugly against 
 Abel, he would "give him credit for what was in 
 his favour;" and saw him shipped off for the far 
 "West, u nothing doubting but that, whether guilty 
 or not, the magistrates had done their duty in 
 
 7—2
 
 100 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 acquitting him, and that the unerring Eye of Eyes 
 and Law of Laws would prevail in the end." But 
 Mr. Gribble had not then heard of this ' negro-mur- 
 derer's superstitious belief in the purloined ears of 
 his victims to save him from being haunted by their 
 spectres ;' and so entirely did it turn the tables, with 
 him, against Abel, that coupling it with the lost 
 knife and blood-stained clothes, so steadily stuck to 
 by the police, not even Sergeant A, No. 1, nor Doc- 
 tor Bruce, nor Mr. Collector Strong, were more satis- 
 fied of his guilt than himself. 
 
 Poor butchered ladies ! peace to their shades ! 
 Or if that might not be, till their blood was avenged, 
 what an Eye to have always on you, guilt-haunted 
 murderer ! what a voice to have always terrifi- 
 cally ringing in your ears — the ceaseless spectres of 
 your victims ever crossing your path and dolefully 
 bidding you prepare for your doom !
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SHEWS HOW THE ' MAN OF STEEL* RULED HIS 
 PEOPLE, AND REIGNED IN THEIR HEARTS. 
 
 There were grand doings at Trinidad where flou- 
 rished Mr. Angelo Lyons' estates, to celebrate with 
 befitting joy his succession to the enormous wealth 
 of the Balfours. For though called a " man of 
 steel" by his kinsman Basil Home, Angelo Lyons 
 was much loved in the island. He was a native of 
 it, which considerably conduced to his popularity. 
 His father had owned property in Tobago ; but being 
 of a cruel tyrannical temper, was hated by his people 
 and compelled to part with it to save his life. 
 Angelo, his son, was then old enough to see the 
 rock on which his father split, and taking warning 
 by his example, so profited by it, on joining Mr. 
 Merric Lincoln, in partnership, at Trinidad, that 
 though they failed shortly afterwards, in consequence, 
 it was said, of several successive bad crop-times, and
 
 102 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Mr. Lincoln's affairs, on his accession to the estate, 
 being involved, Angelo Lyons had rooted himself so 
 firmly in the hearts of the negroes, that he soon re- 
 established himself in the island under better aus- 
 pices than ever, till he became one of its most pros- 
 perous planters. 
 
 His iron-rule — which obtained him the name of the 
 " man of steel" from Basil Home — was so cleverly 
 tempered with the requisite amount of compassion 
 and mercy, that, while other masters failed for want 
 of the due equilibrium with which to wield their 
 authority, the whip in Massa Lyons' hands was as 
 nothing, to correct ' ' bad manners/' compared with 
 the control he had over the insubordinate by the 
 well-timed exercise of those little grants in their 
 favour, and ready concessions, which more than any 
 thing attach the West India negroes to the persons 
 of their masters. And it was only when these con- 
 cessions and clemencies were abused that c Massa 
 Lyons' was "a man of steel;" and then woe- betide 
 the incorrigibles who came under his wrath. 
 
 Angelo Lyons knew very well that " kindness was 
 the only way to make good negroes f but he also 
 knew that, with all the kindnesses shown them, cases 
 of poisoning, and stabbing, and cracked skulls, and 
 thieving, and pull-footing, and lazy profligacy unpar-
 
 THE 'MAN OF STEEL.' 103 
 
 -donable, were of such constant occurrence, that, to 
 be loved, he must be feared by those who recognized 
 little other definition of "Massa's goodness" than 
 what good things for themselves, by it, they could 
 contrive to get out of him. In short, negroes were 
 grossly selfish. Not but that there were to be found 
 true and fond and faithful hearts under black skins, 
 and mulattos* y and sambos', and quadroons', and 
 mustees', as well as white ones. Still, the negroes 
 were essentially selfish ; added to which, they were 
 obstinately superstitious ; and it was by well study- 
 ing their characters and ruling them in accordance 
 therewith, that had given f Massa Lyons' such in- 
 fluence over them, which, with all his care and ten- 
 -derness, his partner old Mr. Merric Lincoln could 
 never acquire over them. 
 
 Of course it bore its own fruits ; so that when 
 •came the glad tidings from Shiphampton of " what 
 a rich man their Massa was," if Angelo Lyons was 
 popular before then with his people, now he was a 
 god, to fall down to and worship ! and worship him 
 they did in a way that for a week made the whole 
 island ring with the din of it. 
 
 Negroes have a strange way, to eyes and ears un- 
 accustomed to them, of expressing their joy. It is 
 .excessive rapture with them from the first hour of
 
 104 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 the festival to the last. Half measures, whether in 
 joy or sorrow, are unknown to them ; they literally 
 revel in excess when let loose ; and on this occasion 
 of e Massa Lyons,' becoming e so grand man !' cer- 
 tainly there were many excuses to be made, if they 
 somewhat exceeded themselves. Once set going, 
 who could stop them ? Least of all had ' Massa T 
 himself any wish to do so ; and it wants the pencil 
 of a Hogarth to give an idea of the Babel. 
 
 The noise was deafening, loudness being an indis- 
 pensable ingredient in negro mirth ; while the shout- 
 ing, and wild laughter, and sudden burst of out- 
 landish singing, and dancing, looked so like the 
 genuine thing, that well the " good, kind Massa** 
 might look on his happy people with smiling eyes ;. 
 except when tears filled them at the saddening thought 
 of " how soon his imperative duties elsewhere would 
 compel him to leave them." 
 
 Urged by the exciting announcement of which, 
 what despotic monarch was ever idolized by his peo- 
 ple like Massa Lyons ? It was so droll to see the 
 various affecting instances of devotion on the part of 
 his subjects, whose sundry little devices to gain his 
 good word, or get something out of him, were very 
 amusing. Mothers fantastically be-cloaked and be- 
 turbaned in gaudiest colours, and whimsically decked
 
 THE 'MAN OF STEEL.' 105 
 
 out with all sorts of beads and corals and glittering 
 ornaments, brought their naked little children to him, 
 and gleefully holding them up — after the fashion 
 Matthew Gregory Lewis, Esq., M.P. tells us the 
 slave-mothers did to him on his Jamaica estates, — 
 presented Massa Lyons with his "nice little lilly 
 negers," declaring, "now they had lived to see their 
 Massa so rich grand man ! they were ready to die 
 that moment — them no care." 
 
 Nor were the men less profuse in their protesta- 
 tions of undying attachment. But one "had no 
 smart-enough coat in which to do Massa' s farewell 
 festival fitting credit ;" and another was in tears 
 almost, because " his best jacket was so faded, he was 
 ashamed of it;" and another, whose "wife was ill 
 in hospital, didn't know what to do for a new piece 
 of printed cotton to make Cassar and Phillis a frock 
 a-piece ;" and another's "only iron- pot was past 
 mending, with a shocking bad hole in it, and if him 
 couldn't get another — God-A'mity ! God-A'mity ! 
 tink of dat I" 
 
 The consciousness of the power to please — what 
 equals it for making happy, when and where it accords 
 with the will to do so ? It was Mr. Angelo Lyons' 
 anxious desire to leave Trinidad firmly fixed in the 
 hearts of his people ; and, " man of steel" as he was,
 
 106 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 to Lave judged by his looks as he went from one to 
 the other of them, dispensing joy and gladness 
 wherever he showed his face — barring the anxious 
 thought of leaving them — there was apparently no 
 happier heart in the island than his own. It must 
 have cost him a pretty penny to fill them all to sur- 
 feit as he did ; so that when came the morning on 
 which he had to bid them good bye, and he cried out 
 with a loud voice from the carriage that was to bear 
 him away : — 
 
 " What more can I do for you V 3 
 
 " Nothing ! nothing \" they shouted, with upheld 
 hands and choking throats — -while one gigantic qua- 
 droon man pressed forwards to kiss his feet 
 again, and clasp his knees — " nothing, but Massa 
 come back soon, or we no care to live, we don't." 
 
 u Yes, yes, I will come back to you," he promised, 
 " And till I do, show me how much you love me, 
 show me, I mean, that you love me as much as I do 
 you, by obeying the laws I have laid down for you, 
 for your happiness, while I am away, just the 
 same as if I were with you. I shall be with you in 
 thought always. Our interests are identical. If 
 I prosper, so will you — if you suffer, so shall I. 
 Are we not brothers and sisters all of us. What 
 other Creator have I than yours ? Do you love me
 
 THE ' MAN OF STEEL.' 107 
 
 as I do you ? Then let me see, when T return to 
 you, which has loved me most. It shall not go un- 
 rewarded. My slaves I Nay, say not so — say, 
 rather, my negroes, my friends and helpers, my 
 Christian brothers and sisters, my faithful own." 
 
 " Yes ! yes V with louder and louder cries of joy 
 and grief commingled, with accompanying character- 
 istic gestures and gesticulations of delight and agony 
 indescribable, as he drove away ; " yes ! yes I" they 
 shouted, " you no our massa — you our father, mo- 
 ther, husband, wife, brother, sister — God-A'mity ! 
 tink of dat !" 
 
 The carriage moved on amidst an uproar that no 
 pen can depict ; but still Samson, the quadroon giant 
 slave, clung to it, as if for yet another farewell word 
 from his master before he could tear himself from him. 
 
 " Tink of dat !" said one to the other, with flash- 
 ing eyes ; " and him Samson got all dem iron pots 
 and kettles in de house ; and him uncle Hercules, 
 dat's away — dere's a free neger for you, if he's living ! 
 God-A'nrity ! what's it Samson wants now V 
 
 Seemingly Mr. Lyons knew, by the something he 
 transferred from his pocket into Samson's hand; but 
 if so, it by no means loosened the quadroon's hold, 
 but rather appeared to tighten it, much to everyone's 
 amazement.
 
 108 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Mr. Lyons smiled. 
 
 "Down ! down !" called one after the other " Oh, 
 you bad-mannered neger! — shame! Samson, shame l" 
 
 But Samson held on. 
 
 " Tink of dat ! — and him uncle Hercules, if he's 
 alive, free man. God-A'mity ! and Massa' s head 
 aching all the time so ! See him pale face — God- 
 A'mity !" 
 
 It was, indeed, aching acutely. But uncle Her- 
 cules was a grand favourite of Massa's; and, so, 
 taking courage, his nephew Samson, heedless of all 
 else, relied on his f friend at court' for the little part- 
 ing favour he had to ask for himself, while yet he 
 had the chance for it. 
 
 " Oh, Massa ! good, kind Massa !" sobbed Sam- 
 son, with imploring looks ; " me your slave all me 
 life ; me no be free if me could ; me be eber slave to 
 Massa. Me no want to be like him uncle Hercules 
 if Massa say Samson be head-carpenter when Her- 
 cules die. Dat's all dat Samson want. Den him 
 rather be slave to Massa dan de King — if Hercules 
 dead." 
 
 A sudden thought seemed to strike Mr. Lyons, 
 as he smilingly listened to what was said to him ; 
 and calling to Mr. Mungo, his overseer, he asked 
 him a question or two in an undertone about Sam-
 
 THE 'MAN OF STEEL.' 109 
 
 son. Having apparently received satisfactory an- 
 swers to which : — 
 
 "Very well/' he said to Samson; "in the event 
 of a vacancy occurring, you shall fill Hercules' place, 
 if your conduct deserve it. But I hope your uncle 
 is alive, and may return and live many years yet; 
 and I am sure you hope so, too ; for he was a good 
 workman." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Massa ! yes, yes ! me love Hercules. 
 Him kind, good uncle ! Me no want Hercules dead. 
 Him no die for Samson, no, no ! Most like, him 
 alive still, hey ! hey !" 
 
 " See to it," said Mr Lyons to the overseer; and 
 off — Samson ran back to his friends, wild with joy ! 
 and lausrhma; and dancing and rolling and tumbling 
 about like a madman, at the thought of " them bad- 
 mannered negers, that cry ' shame, Samson, shame ! 
 down ! down !' when him was taking leave of him 
 Massa so gentleman !" 
 
 And then commenced in good earnest the three 
 days' holydays that were to follow. Massa was gone ; 
 but he had given them three whole days more to 
 mourn his loss in ; and thoroughly they meant to do 
 it as soon as his back was turned. 
 
 " Me no care to live when Massa is away," they 
 told him ; and it seemed so by the way they set
 
 110 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 about it. No sooner was his carriage out of sight 
 than, drying their eyes, away they went to the games, 
 singing the old Jamaica song — 
 
 ' Hey — ho ! negers, me no care a button ! 
 Me got plenty now, since Massa come ; 
 When Massa go, me no care a dammee 
 For how them use we — hey — ho — day !' 
 
 Nor did they seemingly, while the rum and revels 
 lasted ; notwithstanding it was Mr. Mungo, the 
 overseer's, gratifying duty to report to Mr. Lyons 
 the pleasing fact of not one case of drunkenness 
 having occurred during the festival. " A proof," 
 he truly added, "of how falsely those spoke of 
 the West India negroes who said they w r ere debased 
 creatures, void of all moral restraints, who would 
 wallow in excess if they could." 
 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons might well be proud of it ! 
 for surely there was some credit due to himself, as 
 their master ? Nor did even his captious kinsman, 
 Basil Home — now he was so rich — fail to let them 
 know at Shiphampton, long before Mr. Lyons went 
 there to take possession of his princely fortune, " what 
 an irreparable loss Trinidad had sustained by his 
 leaving them, and how universally beloved he was 
 by all classes." 
 
 And thus proudly heralded at every step, Angelo
 
 THE ' MAN OF STEEL.' Ill 
 
 Lyons took leave of his native land. Firm in pos- 
 session of what was " far dearer to him/' he told his 
 sorrowing friends, as he bade them farewell, ei than 
 all his wealth — the sanction and good will of his 
 fellow men, not only of Trinidad, but of every 
 other British West India island where the name of 
 Lyons was known. 5 '
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TELLS HOW MARY AND HESTER WERE SHOWN OVER 
 THE NEW HOUSE AND INTO THE f OLD STORE- 
 ROOM/ BY FAITH LINCOLN, AND HOW IT AFFECTED 
 THEM. 
 
 ' The Queen' mail-packet from Calais had landed 
 her passengers at Dover ; towards the close of the 
 day following which a tall, handsome, dark-visaged, 
 gentlemanly-looking man, of about thirty-five, seem- 
 ingly, and hand in hand with a lovely young girl at 
 his side, walked gravely up the High Street of Ship- 
 hampton, till he reached River Street, where he 
 stopped, as if undecided whether to turn back or go 
 on. He was within a hundred yards of Greystone 
 House, the scene of the late horrible Broadway 
 murder; but it appearing doubtful to a butcher's 
 boy, passing, whether he was aware of it — 
 
 " That's the house where the murder was/' said 
 the boy, pointing to it, as though he made sure it was 
 what the stranger was looking for; "where the two
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 113 
 
 ladies was killed by ' the black/ who cut off their 
 ears, but never robbed 'em of not a farthing/' 
 
 " Indeed !" answered Mr. Lyons, turning his eyes 
 in the direction iudicated. " Thank you," with a 
 shilling — as the boy shouldered his tray to be off; 
 and tightening the grasp of his daughter's hand, he 
 crossed the road, and presently stood with her oppo- 
 site the house, gazing on it. 
 
 "Oh, papa !" exclaimed his lovely child, shudder- 
 in gly looking at the desolate aspect it presented, " is 
 that Greystone House V 3 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 And young as she was, Rachel Lyons shewed by 
 the deadly paleness that robbed her fair cheeks of 
 the rosy glow in them the moment before, what an 
 impression that first face-to-face acquaintance with 
 her future home had on her. She drew closer to 
 her father, as her eyes measured the misery of the 
 place from top to bottom ; and though he spoke to 
 her more than once, to divert her thoughts, may be, 
 from what he saw had taken every drop of blood 
 from her face, she answered him only with open lips, 
 and as if she scarcely heard what he said to her, or 
 cared to think of anything just then but of " poor 
 Aunt Joyce/' as she was called in the family, and 
 " poor Ann Balfour !" 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 The feeling was natural enough, even for a girl of 
 her tender age — Rachel being then but twelve years 
 old — and perceiving it, her father stood still, as if, 
 " man of steel" as he was, he loved her the better for 
 its exhibition. For though his face had less visible 
 blood in it than hers, his eyes glowed with parental 
 pride and delight as he watched her beautiful up- 
 turned gaze, and felt her grasp of his hand tighten 
 with the feeling of child-like dependence on him for 
 love and protection which the sad sight they had 
 come to see was so calculated to inspire in her. It 
 evidently pleased Mr. Lyons. Nor till she herself 
 took her eyes off the house, and seemed to wish to 
 draw him away from it, did he break in on her 
 musings, so absorbed was he, apparently, with the 
 contemplation of her loveliness, and of the priceless 
 treasure he had in it 5 as her father. 
 
 Yes, Mr. Lyons had determined to make Grey- 
 stone House his home. It was a strange choice. 
 But, truly, Angelo Lyons was a ' man of steeP in 
 some things ; and his taking his lovely child to such 
 a dismal spectacle as their intended home then pre- 
 sented, proved it. Few fathers — even though simi- 
 larly resolved to be above popular prejudices and act 
 only in conformity with their own judgment — would 
 have done it. But Mr. Lyons was no ordinary mor-
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 115 
 
 tal ; and in choosing to present his daughter to her 
 future heme in its then wretched state, doubtless he 
 had his motives for so doing, and perhaps sufficient 
 ones. Possibly he desired to see the effect it would 
 have on her, before finally giving the order for the 
 .restoration of the house for their occupation. Rachel 
 was a girl of deep feeling, and it might be that he 
 wished to observe] how the sight of it affected her, 
 and himself, too, hand in hand with her, ere he gave 
 the word of command to the workmen. He saw she 
 turned deadly pale, he felt her grasp of his hand 
 tighten as she gazed in speechless terror at the 
 smashed windows and blackened walls of the house 
 she was going to live in, and the shudder it occa- 
 sioned sent a cold thrill through him also. But she 
 spoke not ; no word escaped her lips to induce her 
 father to alter his purpose ; wherefore he returned 
 to his hotel to set about the necessary preliminaries 
 with his lawyer and the builders and upholsterers for 
 the preparation of Greystone House for their recep- 
 tion with as little delay as possible. 
 
 But though Rachel yielded implicit obedience to 
 her father's rule in everything, Angelo Lyons loved 
 his child too well not to notice the thoughtful looks 
 with which she listened to such remarks as he 
 addressed to her attendant, Faith Lincoln, about the 
 
 8-2
 
 110 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 house, and how he meant to " cleanse it from the- 
 foul stains on it by a far better way than foolishly 
 battering it to pieces." In truth, the poor girl was 
 so shocked at the idea of its being her home, in any 
 shape, that she was dumbstruck, and received her 
 father's good-night kiss, when in bed, as if stupefied 
 by something that paralysed her. She followed him- 
 with her beautiful large blue eyes till he left the- 
 room, after fondly kissing her now burning cheek — 
 burning with the hope she had that " Faith would 
 sit down by her bed-side, when her father was gone r 
 and talk to her till she fell asleep." 
 
 " Faith !" she called, as soon as the door was- 
 closed ; " come here." 
 
 iC In a moment, Miss 5" and then when she had 
 done what she was about, Faith sat down in the* 
 great easy-chair at the bed-head, and reclining back 
 on the soft cushions, was falling off into a doze, 
 when — 
 
 "Faith," again from Miss Rachel rousing her 
 from her reverie : — 
 
 "Yes, here I am," she answered, leaning over the 
 pillow. "Did you think I was gone? No, no! 
 But you must close those eyes now, and have a nice 
 long night's rest, for you have scarcely slept at all 
 since we left France ; nor have I."
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 117 
 
 " I don't want to sleep, Faith." 
 
 " Why not, Miss Rachel V\ 
 
 " Oh, Faith ! what a dreadful house that is we 
 ;are going to live in \" 
 
 "Wicked, wanton folly, yes! of those idle, bad., 
 mischievous boys, to treat it so ; and there was not 
 •such another charming house iu the town as Grey- 
 stone House, till the rabble got hold of it. Where 
 were the police I wonder ? Scandalous ! But your 
 papa will soon put it to rights. Then it will be very 
 --different. Yes, yes, we shall all like it well enough 
 then. Greystone House the only house in Ship- 
 hampton in which bad deeds have been done ? Cruel 
 •■conduct ! Smash to atoms the windows of any 
 house, and pelt it with mud — enough to make it 
 ugly." 
 
 " It was ugly enough, was it not, Faith, without 
 that ?" 
 
 " Ugly, Miss ? Oh, no ! I always thought it so 
 handsome ! And so will you when your papa has 
 -put it in order. But best go to sleep now, and we 5 11 
 talk more about it to-morrow. It's not the house 
 that is to blame, no, no." 
 
 Compelled to be satisfied with which, Rachel lay 
 awake ; while Faith, to avoid further talking, dozed 
 off again in her elbow-chair. Till lulled into forget-
 
 118 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 fulness, the weary lids closed on those beautiful blue- 
 eyes ; and to have judged by the placid smiles play- 
 ing- round that sweet mouth, when Eaith looked to 
 see if she were asleep, Rachel's young dreams must 
 have been happy. 
 
 Perhaps she dreamt of her mother. Tor Hachel 
 Lyons was old enough, when her mother died, to- 
 know what a tender loving mother to her she was,, 
 and what a sweet, kind, gentle, smiling face she had,, 
 and how, the day before they told her that ' angels- 
 had taken her with them up to heaven, 5 she lay on 
 her bosom with her arms round her mother's neck, 
 till she fell asleep, never to see her in life again. 
 It was all stamped as firmly on her memory as the 
 recollection of the black clothes she and her father 
 wore on the dismal day of the burial, when they and 
 the servants had all the house to themselves. Oh ! 
 eould she ever forget that day ? But she could think 
 of it differently now to what she did then ; and almost 
 always before she fell asleep, she would ask Faith to 
 sit by her bed side and talk with her about " those 
 happy days at Trinidad when her darling mamma 
 was alive, and her papa was so gay and cheerful, and 
 he never looked sad and unhappy as he often did 
 now. Why was he so sad and unhappy, if darling 
 mamma was taken by the angels to heaven ? How
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 119 
 
 happy she was ! Then ought not they to be happy, 
 too?" 
 
 What answer but one could Faith make her ? 
 And so they talked on ; till hushed in sleep, Faith 
 would heave a sisrh as she looked at her beautiful face 
 
 o 
 
 and pale golden hair and long silken eyelashes, the 
 image of her mother's. But what those sighs por- 
 tended, whether impending good or evil for her lovely 
 young charge, or joy or sorrow for herself, was 
 known to none but Faith ; and it was no part of 
 Faith Lincoln's character to needlessly betray what 
 she felt, where it seemed to her inexpedient to do 
 so. 
 
 But Miss Rachel had seemingly forgotten all about 
 " poor dear darling mamma" on this first night of 
 their arrival in Shiphampton ; for she never once 
 mentioned her name while talking with Faith of 
 Greystone House, and " how ugly it was," and " how 
 sad it made her to think they were going to live 
 there." Evidently what she had seen of it, exter- 
 nally, with her father, had made a deep impression 
 on her ; and none the less a disagreeable one because, 
 like her sweet amiable, uncomplaining mother, she 
 meekly yielded to the judgment and guidance of 
 those whose authority she looked up to, and whose
 
 120 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 wishes she was bound to consider in preference to her 
 own. 
 
 Rachel Lyons was but twelve years old ; but there 
 is a deal of difference in the minds of children of the 
 same age ; and Mr. Lyons, fatalist and free-thinker 
 as he was, would sit and gaze on her beautiful beam- 
 ing face — beaming with an intelligence beyond her 
 years, — and be sensible of a thrill of paternal pride 
 and joy at the thought of " what an exquisite bud 
 of promise it was in his hands, to bring to maturity," 
 that told its own tale far better than all his cold care- 
 lessness as to what might be the form, or quality, or 
 fate of the " vessel/' as he termed it, "which, when 
 made by the potter, had no right to say, why hast 
 thou formed me thus ?" 
 
 The thought of Greystone House for her home 
 troubled Rachel, and she fell asleep thinking of it. 
 Yet, her dreams must have been happy, to judge by 
 the sweet smiles they produced. Let us conclude it 
 was about her darling mamma she was dreaming ; 
 than when she was never more interestingly lovely, 
 as looked at by Faith that night, with her faultless 
 up-turned cheek slightly flushed, and her lips apart, 
 and every feature of her beautiful face hushed in 
 that perfect repose which poets and painters depict 
 as the sleep of the angels.
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 121 
 
 And let me now give a faint sketch of our little 
 heroine in the interesting position we see her in — as 
 interesting as well could be. 
 
 Need a face be strictly beautiful to be angelic ? 
 need it be artistically perfect to simultaneously 
 charm the eye and heart ? Oh, no ! It may be fault- 
 less in every feature, yet wanting in expression ; it 
 may fill the beholder with admiration and delight, 
 and, yet, be irregular and defective. The outline of 
 Rachel's face, like her father's, was Italian ; but na- 
 ture seemed to have admired her mother's English 
 beaming blue eyes, and pale golden hair, and fair com- 
 plexion, and dimpled cheek, and artless, happy mouth 
 too much, to overlook them in her moulding. Evi- 
 dently it was her intention to form Rachel rather 
 after the model of her mother than her father. He 
 was eminently handsome, as handsome, for an Italian 
 cast of face, as it was possible for a man to be ; but 
 though his lustrous eyes were burning bright, they 
 lacked that genial light and warmth of the sweet, 
 meek, patient, gentle, guileless Ursula's, which when 
 they smiled on you, bespoke a heart, if you deserved 
 it, that was all love and truthfulness and goodness, 
 and which you could not trust too much. But there 
 was that in Angelo Lyons' most gracious moods 
 which chilled rather than warmed, and, notwithstand-
 
 122 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 ing his singularly prepossessing looks and manners, 
 when he desired to be agreeable, left the impression 
 that feeling was not natural to him, nor sympathy, nor 
 pity, any further than their convenient exhibition 
 might serve his own subtle ends. 
 
 But you saw her father in Rachel, as well as her 
 mother ; the outline of her face was his, though the 
 general expression was her mother's. Indeed there 
 were times when she looked so like him — if firmly 
 purposed to have her own way — that then Angelo 
 Lyons would stare at her with an incredulous smile, 
 as if half doubting the evidence of his senses, and as 
 though, when thus reflecting him, he was not quite 
 sure he admired her as much as when she resembled 
 him least. For then her angelic mother was before 
 him, who fondly loved him, and clung to him to the 
 last — utter alien as he was to her in christian creed 
 and conduct, and sternly treating her as he often did, 
 if rumour belied him not. That he loved his wife 
 as well as he could love any one, no one denied ; 
 but that he had greatly embittered her short married 
 life by his ungodly tenets, and " constrained the an- 
 gels," as they said in Tobago, her native place, " to 
 take her away from him to Heaven before he broke 
 her heart," every one, who knew her, believed. Her 
 death was the first sensible blow he had ever re-
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 123 
 
 ceived ; and his friends hoped it would "reclaim him 
 from his sceptical ways ; and now the entire care 
 and culture of his daughter devolved on him, arouse 
 him to the necessity of abandoning his fatal free- 
 thinking principles for his child's sake, if not for his 
 own/' 
 
 It aroused Angelo Lyons to the keener knowledge 
 of what — to use his own words — he had " always, 
 from the first moment he could reason, thought so 
 strange, with regard to man's mortality, viz. why the 
 good, as they were called, in this life, should almost 
 universally be the first to be taken out of it, stand- 
 ing so in need of good examples as the world did ? 
 Were there not angels enough in Heaven, without 
 adding Ursula Lyons to them ; when every one said 
 f her christian efforts in his behalf, as his wife, were 
 the only means that would ever save him from de- 
 struction.' If so, how contradictory, how cruel it 
 seemed ! to take her away from him ?" 
 
 " Not so, dear papa," would Rachel, with throat- 
 full, say to him, as she twined her arms round his 
 neck when thus he talked of her mother. " It may be, 
 may it not, that darling mamma was taken by the 
 angels to Heaven, to be able to be always watching 
 over us — a real angel — both in Heaven and on earth 
 — there and here also — always taking care of us and
 
 124 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 praying for us ? And how do we know, papa dear, 
 but that it was the only way to get us also to Hea- 
 ven with her — never to part again — when God takes 
 us, too V 
 
 Which drawing his lips to her fair cheek, as she 
 lay her head on his shoulder, there Angelo Lyons 
 would let her lie, without another word ; till she 
 either fell asleep on his neck, or, if too full of her 
 mother's image to close her eyes till she had done 
 prattling to him — in the sure belief that he fervently 
 felt the truth of what she said to him as much as 
 she did. 
 
 It was indeed a precious " bud of promise," as 
 Angelo Lyons proudly termed it, that — now its 
 entire care and culture devolved on him, her father, 
 to bring to maturity — he called his own. How 
 lovely she was ! The thought of it might well thrill 
 him. Where looked he on her equal? Take her 
 where he would, all eyes were on her, all tongues busy 
 with her praises. u What a beautiful creature !" 
 greeted him at every turn, " what a heavenly face ! 
 how gentle ! how guileless she is ! how graceful ! 
 what a sweet composure in her every gesture and 
 movement ! how entirely natural she is ! how art- 
 less ! what a right mind she has ! how proud her 
 father must be of her I"
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 125- 
 
 And so he was, little as it pleased him to show it. 
 It pleased Angelo Lyons rather to listen than to 
 talk, which perhaps was one reason why he had the 
 command over himself that he had. He saw what 
 an enemy a facile tongue is in a fool's mouth ; and 
 so used his ears and understanding, that, if they 
 deceived him sometimes, he could keep the imma- 
 terial occurrence to himself. It gave him a character 
 for anything but amiability ; but as that was a word 
 that always made his lip curl, any little shafts aimed 
 at him from those quarters, fell harmless ; and it is 
 astonishing how popular his seeming acquiescence in 
 the superior wisdom of his well-wishers soon made 
 him in Shiphampton and about. The well-wishers 
 left him with so good an opinion of themselves, that 
 there was nothing too good they could say of him ;. 
 so that before he had been enrolled a free citizen of 
 the old Borough six months — though none could be 
 said to quite agree with him, no man had more en- 
 thusiastic friends than had Angelo Lyons. 
 
 Rachel, too, was " such a favourite everywhere \" 
 She would have made any father famous. Espe- 
 cially one who, left a widower as Mr. Lyons was, was 
 " himself so very handsome, and young, and rich, 
 and, possibly, would be wanting another maternal 
 bosom for that sweet orphan girl of his, when the
 
 126 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 proper period for mourning had expired." The 
 which seemed all the more likely, the gossips whis- 
 pered to each other, "because of the increasing 
 solicitude Mr. Lyons naturally felt, as Rachel grew 
 up, to insure her the constant companionship of a 
 mind more congenial with hers than his was, ab- 
 sorbed as it was continually, when not engaged in 
 business, in those long fits of abstraction which 
 sometimes left her for days together with no one to 
 open her heart to but Faith Lincoln. 
 
 But time went on, and seemingly Mr. Lyons had 
 seen no spinster, old or young, in Shiphampton or 
 elsewhere, to supply the place of the exemplary wife 
 he had lost. And now Rachel was in her fourteenth 
 year, and more than ever stood in need of a mother's 
 love. It puzzled the gossips exceedingly. They 
 were at their wit's end to account for it. " What a 
 charming residence he had made Greystone House ! 
 Who would recognize it now, as the once plain, 
 square, unpretending business-house of the Balfours ? 
 What a transformation ! It was no longer a house — 
 it was a mansion ! a palace ! fit for a prince to live 
 in!" 
 
 Yea, the builders had done their work well, and 
 so had the decorators and upholsterers. And could 
 but the red stains in the flag-stones below have been
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 127 
 
 washed out, — for Mr. Lyons would not have them 
 removed, — not even old Molly herself would have 
 " hardly known where she was," when Faith took 
 her over it from top to bottom — " such a fresh face 
 had been put on everything, as if such a thing as 
 a sinful thought even could never have found en- 
 trance there." 
 
 Nor was Hester less struck with the " wonderful 
 difference !" as she called it, than Molly. But her 
 greatest surprise was — that a Mr. Lyons had not 
 replaced those dreadful stained stones with pure new 
 ones. They spoilt it all. Who could think of any- 
 thing else, while they were there ? Keep your eyes 
 off them if you could. How strange to let them 
 stay !" 
 
 " It does seem so, don't it ?" assented Faith 
 Lincoln, spreading refreshments before her guests. 
 " It would strike most persons so. It did me. But 
 Mr. Lyons thinks differently. He is peculiar on 
 some points. He says he has no wish to do away, 
 if he could, with the recollection of the melancholy 
 event that brought him to live here. On the contrary, 
 he wishes to be sometimes reminded of it. Why 
 not ? Such lessons are not without their uses. He 
 has other ways, in abundance, wherein to find forget- 
 fulness of what he is — what we all are — rich or poor.
 
 128 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 The stones, he says, cannot rise up in judgment 
 against him, or his. So, why fear them ? Is Grey- 
 stone House the only house, happily inhabited, in 
 which dark deeds have been done ? What old house 
 but must be pulled down, if you must have no stain 
 on it V 3 
 
 Hester shuddered. 
 
 " I must own," continued Faith, " I should have 
 had other stones there myself ; though, now there is 
 a cocoa-matting over them, time will accustom us to 
 that, like everything else. Mr. Lyons would not 
 have covered them. He saw no need for it. f What 
 he has added to the house, to please Miss Lyons, he 
 has added/ he says ; ' but he has taken nothing from 
 it — not a brick, nor stick, nor stone.' He has a mind, 
 superior to that." 
 
 It silenced Hester. But she told Molly when 
 they got out again in the open air and breathed 
 freely, that, " spite of what the housekeeper had said 
 about f no need to fear, if you'd no cause/ she 
 wouldn't live in Greystone House — with those dread- 
 ful blood-stains to pass night and day at all hours — 
 no, not if she were as guiltless as a new-born babe, 
 and she might have it filled from the cellars to the 
 garrets with golden guineas." 
 
 It is noteworthy, how having views superior to
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 129 
 
 vulgar prejudices exalts its owners in the wondering 
 estimation of those who least agree with them. 
 There is power in peculiarity. It was universally 
 admitted in Shiphampton that " clearly their new 
 borough councillor, Mr. Angelo Lyons, of Greystone 
 House, and Trinidad, West Indies, was a man of a 
 very superior mind." Few professed to understand 
 his peculiar opinions, fewer to admire them, and not 
 one perhaps to think and act in concert ; but all 
 allowed the " extraordinary superiority of his mind," 
 and humbly bowed to it, in consequence. 
 
 What exquisite judgment, too, he had displayed 
 in the fresh fashioning and fitting-up of his house. 
 
 11 What taste ! What elegance ! How sumptuous 
 throughout; and, yet, how chaste! More than 
 money was wanting to produce an effect like that !" 
 It was "faultless !" It was the " surpassing work of 
 great genius !" 
 
 Truly, it would have amazed poor Aunt Joyce if 
 she could have looked out of her grave and beheld 
 what the time-honoured c old house' was capable of, 
 in improving hands. Not a nook nor corner of it 
 but had undergone such a thorough re-modelling 
 and re-embellishment, as would have greatly startled 
 her antiquated notions, and perhaps sent her back 
 to her rest 3 well contented that it had never hap- 
 
 vol. i. 9
 
 130 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 pened in her day to witness anything so un-Balfour- 
 like — so irregular ! 
 
 What was so lately little more than a narrow pas- 
 sage from the street door to the rear of the house, 
 was now a wide, handsome hall, paved with black 
 and white marble, and embellished from the floor to 
 the ceiling with choice paintings, and marble busts, 
 and statuettes from Italy, and old armour. There 
 were four richly carved oak chairs, too, with the 
 Lyons' crest on them, a clubbed giant, with his foot 
 on his enemy's neck, and their quaint motto under it, 
 Fiat. And over the carved oak table, to match, was 
 hung a plain small mahogany box, with a slit in the 
 top of it, there specially placed by her father, to 
 please Miss Rachel, who brought it with her from 
 France, where she used to gather together more 
 francs and half-francs and centimes for her poor pen- 
 sioners, of one sort or another, than ever they got, 
 poor souls ! after she took it down from its nail at 
 Pau, and, with tears in her eyes, packed it up in her 
 pretty red leather trunk. It not a little reconciled 
 Rachel to her new abode, when the first object that 
 smilingly met her gaze, on entering it, was her " dear 
 old poor-box," as if to welcome her ; " where it would 
 be all her own again," Faith said, u to do as she 
 liked with, and fill, and empty, and re-fill, as fast
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 131 
 
 as she could at Shiphampton, as well as else- 
 where." 
 
 It was a good thought of Faith's, and highly com- 
 mended by Mr. Lyons. 
 
 And what had become of Aunt Joyce's snug, com- 
 fortable front parlour, looking on to the Broadway, 
 the same in which she and her niece Ann Balfour 
 were sitting by the blazing fire that bitter cold after- 
 noon when Abel, ' the black/ drew them to the win- 
 dow with his doleful ditties ? 
 
 Well Molly might stare ! and Hester want words 
 to express her surprise ! Oh, what a metamorphosis ! 
 It used to be called 'the snuggest room in the 
 house/ Now look ! Though there was a dining- 
 room double the size, behind, and a back-parlour 
 opposite it, on the other side of the passage, and a 
 beautiful large drawing-room, too, and the little side 
 room that Miss Boys, before she was married, used 
 to work in and keep her canaries and goldfinches, 
 neither Uncle Tristram nor Aunt Joyce ever lived in 
 any other room but that. " Mercy ! if they could 
 see it now V 3 
 
 It would have amazed them no doubt. Where 
 the old cheerful bay-window used to be, from which 
 you got such a nice uninterrupted view, on the right, 
 over the corn-market, and, on the left, across the 
 
 9—2
 
 132 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 sheep and pig pens, almost as far as the river, were 
 now two stately plate glass sashes in polished ma- 
 hogany frames, that made Hester involuntarily step 
 back, on entering the room, and hold her breath, 
 while clutching Molly by the arm, — " it seems so 
 unnatural," she said to her in a whisper, " for us 
 to be standing here, to be stared at by the people 
 outside in that rude way. Law ! it's like living, 
 as you might say, out of doors, to have windows like 
 them. It turns me cold to think of it." 
 
 But Molly was thinking most of those beautiful 
 old drab moreen window-curtains, with ball-tasselled 
 valences, and bound with black velvet, that she had 
 drawn hundreds of times of a winter's evening when 
 she brought in the candles, and which she " helped 
 make up again, after they had been callendered, with 
 her own hands." 
 
 What thoughts of joys for ever gone were 
 associated with those handsome old curtains ! 
 How many long years had they and old Molly been 
 fast friends ? Molly knew. There had been the 
 taking of them down when the summers came, and 
 the putting them up in winter, when they always 
 looked ten times fresher and handsomer than ever, 
 faded and flown as they were. How nicely they 
 suited the old drab and black carpet, and the drab
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 133 
 
 walls, and drab table-cloth — poor dear Misses was 
 so fond of that colour. Now see I" 
 
 Yes, Hester was looking with all her eyes at them 
 — the superb double set of dark green cloth, and 
 their massive gilt cornices that now supplied their 
 place. They were superb ! 
 
 " But what has been done with the old ones V 
 asked Molly, tremulously. 
 
 It brought a smile to Faith's face, which was of a 
 particularly sage and grave cast ; though she was 
 yet a young woman, and as good looking a one, too, 
 for a tawney complexion, as you would see anywhere. 
 Faith smiled at Molly's question ; which displaying 
 her brilliant white teeth, both Hester and Molly 
 could not but grant to themselves that " the house- 
 keeper was very handsome;" though there was a 
 piercing glance she every now and then gave them 
 with those cold black eyes of hers, that " went 
 through them. Now, however, she was all smiles, 
 as Molly was asking about the old drab curtains, for 
 she had something to tell both her and Hester which 
 she thought would gratify them. " As I mentioned 
 to you before, Mr. Lyons has done what he has to 
 the house, chiefly to make it as pleasant as possible 
 to Miss Lyons, who has been accustomed to a 
 charming home and every luxury at Trinidad. But
 
 134 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 besides using the old materials in its re-construction, 
 he has scrupulously preserved all the old fittings and 
 furniture, though of a date so out of fashion as not 
 to be any longer available for himself; and there 
 they are at this moment in the great store-room 
 next the loft, for Mrs. Joyce Balfour's old and faith- 
 ful servants to choose any articles from they please, 
 wherewith to comfortably furnish the cottage that 
 your mother, Mary, Mrs. Balls, lived in for so 
 many years. I have Mr. Lyons' permission to say 
 that any part, or the whole, of them are at your 
 service. But," added Faith, with another smile 
 w r hich fairly vanquished Hester, " whether Mr. Lyons 
 intends to make over the freehold, in the cottage, to 
 you, absolutely, or only to give you both a lease for 
 life in it, I cannot tell. It is a nice, healthy, 
 pleasant little place, he says, the pleasantest on c the 
 green,' and has a pretty garden to it, and, when done 
 up, will be snug enough." 
 
 Of course it filled Molly's eyes with grateful tears, 
 and pleasurably startled Hester so, that it was a 
 little while before they could think of anything but 
 of Mr. Lyons' goodness, aud f the great store-room 
 up stairs, and the happy years, please God, yet to 
 come for them in Mary's cottage. Then they were 
 free to admit that they " never saw such a wonderful
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 135 
 
 improvement as Mr. Lyons had made ! look which 
 way they would. What a sumptuous carpet ! and 
 so soft and thick, it seemed like treading on stuffed 
 velvet, didn't it ? Mercy ! what a splendid table, 
 too— and only think of the little black oval maho- 
 gany one, with the three straight legs, that used to 
 stand there, on which poor dear Master and Misses 
 breakfasted, and dined, and teaed, and supped, con* 
 tented, for forty years and upwards !" 
 
 " Which will do nicely, won't it V rejoined Faith, 
 leading the way to the drawing room, " for your 
 best parlour on ' the green ;' for it shines so, you 
 can see your faces in it as well as in a looking- 
 glass." 
 
 It put Hester in mind of what she had good right 
 to be proud of; and carried her across the hall into 
 the drawing -room with her head so up, that for half 
 a minute or more she was Hester Dobbins again, in 
 the old place, and none other, so entirely at home 
 had the housekeeper's last affable remark made her. 
 Then she opened her eyes wide to what had so dumb- 
 struck Molly, when Faith threw open the drawing- 
 room folding doors, that she drew back, transfixed S 
 as if it were profanation for humble folks like them 
 to set foot on anything so precious.
 
 136 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 If the dining-room was superb, what was to be said 
 of the drawing-room ? 
 
 Faith did the honours with much grace. Her 
 guests had additional reason to congratulate them- 
 selves at every step. They were now lost in wonder ! 
 But the treasures of the ( great store room 5 above 
 had yet to be explored ; and though Molly missed 
 the spacious old chintz sofa, and the twelve brass- 
 inlaid roomy chairs, en suite, which lengthened her 
 face a little ; and Hester took time to accommodate 
 herself to the novel sensation of seeing herself re- 
 flected, with her best bonnet on, turn whichever way 
 she would, in glass after glass, till "it made her 
 dizzy/' — there could be but one opinion : — " It was 
 " beautiful \" it was "lovely \" it was " wonderful !" 
 What would poor dear Misses say if she could look 
 out of her grave and see it all ?" 
 
 But when Faith calmly sat down on one of the 
 rose-coloured satin couches, and invited Molly to do 
 so, too, Hester turned as pale as a ghost. For at 
 that moment, just as she was going to make herself 
 ' at home' also, by the housekeeper's desire, in a de- 
 licious, velvet lounge chair, with "gold- arms and 
 legs to it," the French clock on the mantle-piece 
 struck eight, " which was the same time exactly she 
 rose from her sick-bed that dreadful day when she
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 137 
 
 went down to see where Molly was, and fell over the 
 dead bodies of poor dear Misses and Mrs. Ann in 
 the passage." 
 
 It kept Molly rootedly standing so long, while 
 Hester spoke of it, gazing on the pink satin sofas 
 and curtains, and the gorgeously bordered velvet - 
 piled carpet, " with the living flowers, as you might 
 say, all over it, growing as it were under her feet, 
 when but a short while back nothing would have 
 made her believe anything could ever smile more," 
 that Faith rose, and, crossing the room, asked them 
 11 if they would like to see a portrait of Mrs. Angelo 
 Lyons when she was eighteen?" 
 
 It broke the spell. And sure enough, there was 
 Rachel's angelic mother over the walnut-wood cot- 
 tage-piano in her boudoir — as poor Ann Boys' 
 little work-room was now called — just as she looked 
 w T hen she was eighteen, and her handsome husband 
 might truly pride himself on having " the best as 
 well as the most beautiful wife in the island." 
 
 As yet Molly and Hester had scarcely done jus- 
 tice to that sweet face of Miss Rachel's ; nothing 
 harmonizing — till the day when the housekeeper in- 
 vited them to look over the place — with anything in 
 the shape of those dear old forms and faces alone 
 which they cared to associate with thoughts of Grey-
 
 138 
 
 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 stone House. But things assumed another aspect 
 now. " The ways of Providence were inscrutable ; 
 and always wise and merciful. And it behoved his 
 blind creatures to submissively bow thereto, in afflic- 
 tion as well as happiness. God's will be done !" So 
 now they could stand in " poor Miss Boys' work- 
 room," as it went by the homely name of, without 
 those cold shudders that came over them when they 
 first heard what Mr. Lyons was having done to it, 
 regardless of expense, for Miss Lyons' especial use. 
 Boudoir was a foreign word; and Molly and Hester 
 had heard enough of foreigners and their ways, to 
 like work-room much better. " In poor dear Ann 
 Boys' time, a deal of work was done in it — work for 
 the poor, too, which you might call useful work ! 
 beautiful work ! blessed work ! Now see what it was 
 going to be turned into ! Into a boudoir. Mercy ! 
 and what was that ? Boudoir ! ^Vhy not call it 
 Miss Lyons' work room ? Some meaning in that." 
 
 And if, in obedience to orders, Faith let Mr. Lyons 
 know what the folks said of it all, to amuse him, no 
 doubt she understood the curl of the lip with which 
 he listened to old Molly's misgivings, and Hester's 
 "shrewd suspicions." 
 
 " Hem !" he would answer, smilingly, when Faith 
 had laid her weekly budget before him, with the
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 
 
 339 
 
 Monday's bills ; " touchy about that are they ? 
 Boudoir. Silly souls ! Take down the dictionary 
 there — the French one — and turn to the word. What 
 does it say ?" 
 
 " A lady's own room," read Faith, with her usual 
 gravity. 
 
 " In which/' added Mr. Lyons, as if vastly enter- 
 tained with the idea, " only * useful, beautiful, 
 blessed work' was done in Miss Boys' time !" and 
 he looked hard at his housekeeper as he said it. " It 
 deserved a better reward. Then they called it the 
 work-room ? Hem ! — now we call it the Boudoir. 
 ' Useful— beautiful — blessed work V Why not so 
 one way as well as the other ? Miss Lyons must look 
 to it. Hem! — c useful — beautiful — blessed !' Sounds 
 odd that, don't it ?" 
 
 But we have to do with less critical eyes now than 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons'. 
 
 " Heavenly !" exclaimed Mary Balls, with rapt 
 fervour, at sight of the exquisite portrait in crayons 
 of Miss Rachel's dead mamma ; while, standing 
 behind her, Hester gazed, no less struck with de- 
 lighted admiration, at the angelic face which Faith 
 assured them was " the loveliest in all Trinidad, and 
 had never yet had justice done it by any artist." 
 
 " Beautiful ! beautiful !" exclaimed Hester and
 
 140 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Molly, in one breath. " Miss Rachel herself, only 
 older. What she will be — please God she lives — at 
 eighteen \ n And then their wondering eyes took a 
 circuit of ( the little work-room/ as they used to call 
 it ; which associated as it was in some way with e the 
 great store-room' up stairs, brought a flush to Molly's 
 cheeks, and made Hester so agreeable, that Faith 
 had enough to do to listen to their praises, as she 
 placidly drew their attention to the gorgeous objects 
 around them. First, to the sumptuous Aubusson 
 carpet, on which such beautiful little bouquets of 
 mingled roses and lilies and violets were in full-blow, 
 that it c seemed a sin to tread on them f then to the 
 moss-rose chintz curtains, to correspond, looped up 
 with such beautiful, broad, embroidered satin- bands, 
 edged with richest lace — Faith's own handiwork — as 
 ' eyes never beheld ;' then to the walls chastely hung 
 with fluted green and white silk, and the ceiling 
 tastefully tinted and gilded to correspond ; then to 
 this matchless work of art, then to that ; then to 
 such a profusion of delicious little embroidered velvet 
 and satin chairs and couches, and exquisite consoles, 
 and cabinets, and curiosities, and gorgeously bound 
 books, and costly Sevre and Dresden china, and 
 filigree flower baskets and work-boxes — that, seeing 
 her guests fairly overwhelmed by it, Faith led the
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 141 
 
 way upstairs to the still more interesting treat in 
 store for them. 
 
 And so they went from room to room. Till poor 
 old Molly's face got so hot, and Hester had talked 
 herself into so faint a key, that " Come up a little 
 higher," proposed Faith, " into the store-room, and 
 see how carefully Mr. Lyons has had nearly all the 
 old furniture put away, for you to choose from, as 
 soon as your cottage is ready." 
 
 The ' old store-room' was in statu quo, exactly as 
 Molly left it — barring its present contents — the last 
 time she had occasion to take their cat, Bony — as 
 he was named, from his peculiarly lank lean looks — 
 his daily evening meal up there, when he was too 
 lazy or too sulky to come down for it. Oh ! how Molly 
 loved that old store-room. She seemed to breathe 
 again when Faith turned the rusty key in the lock, 
 and she stood inside it. Molly was then, as it were, 
 in her own quarters; for "poor dear Misses always 
 gave us that," she said, " and the room next it, to 
 do as we liked with, and to hang our clothes in when 
 we wanted, and iron and mangle." It was Molly's 
 own rightful domain, compared with which all that 
 the housekeeper had been showing her was not worth 
 a farthing. " Ah ! how it brought to mind the 
 times she and Barbara Gibbs, on ' the green/ had
 
 142 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 got up all poor dear Misses and Miss Ann Boys' fine 
 things, as easy as if she'd had nothing else to do ; 
 and there they were, fine things and coarse, in the 
 drawers by Saturday, and poor dear Misses and 
 Miss Ann saved pounds and pounds by it I" 
 
 " That's true !" echoed Hester, kindling, with her 
 eyes on the heaps of l old friends' peeping smilingly 
 at them from under the sheets and counterpanes 
 thrown over them to keep the dust and damp off. ; 
 
 " There they all are," smiled Faith. " It's pretty 
 dry up here ; and it won't be long now, Mr. Brindle 
 says, before the cottage is ready." 
 
 Hester's breast heaved ! 
 
 " You see," continued Faith, lifting up a corner 
 of the counterpane, " the carpenter has placed them 
 so that you can get at them without trouble. 
 Though a little old-fashioned, some of them, you 
 can't buy that quality now" — pointing to a heap of 
 bedding, on which lay the "beautiful old black- 
 mahogany oval dining table you could see your face 
 in," and, beside it, the wicker-house that Bony 
 used to go to bed in always, " down stairs," explained 
 Hester, " till after the murder, when nothing could 
 ever get him there again, after he took to the 
 garret." 
 
 " Poor Bony !" sympathized Faith. « We let the
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 143 
 
 broken pane there go unmended, for him to come in 
 and out, for he won't be sociable. It's more than a 
 week since I saw him. How he lives we don't know, 
 as he never touches the food we put in the yard for 
 him. He won't live with us, and he won't live with 
 you — strange, isn't it V 
 
 " Law, then, I declare, there's the hassock, too V* 
 exclaimed Hester, extending her arm to reach it, 
 " that poor dear Mrs. Ann had her feet on while she 
 was nursing him in her lap the day before the 
 murder ;" and overbalancing herself in her desire to 
 draw it nearer, she fell forward on the heap of quilts 
 and blankets it lay among, and out flew Bony from 
 his hiding-place, and clearing every obstacle with a 
 bound or two, found refuge up the chimney. 
 
 It startled them ! For if Bony was " a bag of 
 bones" before, now, though not in years, he was but 
 the spectre of his former self; and there was some- 
 thing so shocking to Molly's mind in the savage 
 growl he gave them, and the defiant glare of his 
 eyes, before he turned to fly up the chimney when 
 she tried to call him back, that, to use her own words 
 to Hester shortly afterwards, " You might have 
 knocked me down with the tip of your little finger, 
 it hurt me so !" 
 
 Nor was Hester less grieved ; a though she didn't
 
 144 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 choose to show it just then, handsomely treated all 
 day as they had been ; else she could have spoken her 
 mind. " Cats wern't creatures to take to new comers; 
 least of all to them as turned the house out of 
 window, as you might say, directly they set foot in 
 it. Cats knew. Deceive a cat if you could, espe- 
 cially a Tom ! Bony growl at them — at those who 
 brought him up from a kitten, and had nursed and 
 fed him, and physicked him all those years ? Not 
 he ! no, no ! Cats knew their company, leave them 
 alone for that. But no, it wouldn't have done 
 ever so, feel what she might, not to have known how 
 to command herself — treated handsome as they had 
 been. Bony fly up the chimney away from them ? 
 Never !" 
 
 And there was all the more reason to believe it, to 
 judge by what followed Bony's precipitate flight 
 from her old friends. For piqued no less than hurt 
 by it, as in a manner not very complimentary to 
 herself, Faith tried what she could do to coax him 
 down again. But all she got was a succession of 
 such determined growls, in answer to her entreaties, 
 that she gave it up in despair. Whereupon, Molly 
 thought she would try, and, looking up at him and 
 his glaring eyes — " Tomakin— Tomakin !" she cried 
 — " Bony— Bony — don't you know me ?" when,
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 145 
 
 nearly blinding her with the dust and soot he 
 brought down with him — himself, though snow- 
 white, now as black as a sweep — with a spring he 
 made good his footing on her shoulder, and humping 
 his back and swelling out his tail, Faith had enough 
 to do to keep at a respectful distance, and laugh at 
 his grim face ; till having exchanged cordial greetings 
 with Hester, and terribly smutted Molly's nose and 
 mouth with his friendly kisses, away he went again 
 out of window; nor could all their coaxings and 
 persuasions induce him to return to them. 
 
 It threw a cloud over Molly ; nor could Hester 
 regain her cheerfulness as quickly as she felt she was 
 bound to do, after the handsome way Mr. Lyons had 
 bahaved to them. 
 
 Faith smiled it off. But it was evident Bony's 
 bad manners had made her no better friend of his. 
 For " I have tried," she said, "to make a friend of 
 him ; but he is a cross fellow, a very naughty fellow 
 to behave so ; and if he don't repent it, and come 
 and ask my pardon, I don't think I shall ever 
 love him at all again." 
 
 It conveyed all that Molly, in reason, could expect ; 
 which bringing them down into the hall : — 
 
 " You have not seen Mr. Lyons' room yet," said 
 Faith, opening the door of it. " It is very plain. 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 But that's his taste. He dislikes show, for himself. 
 His bed-room is equally so. You will recognize 
 some more old faces here." 
 
 Which was true. For there was not an article of 
 furniture in it, with the exception of the bookcases 
 and a reading-chair and writing-cabinet, but what 
 had stood there in old Tristram Balfour's time. It 
 rather astonished Hester, who " would have fresh 
 furnished that dull, dark, dingy back-room, over- 
 looking the garden, and the shipping in the distance, 
 before any other in the house." But there Molly 
 couldn't agree with her. She always thought Mr. 
 Balfour's room, as they called it, had " such a nice, 
 quiet look. It was where he always did his writings/' 
 she said, " and settled his bills, and had us in once 
 a quarter to pay us our wages. The only fault in 
 it was the dry-rot, which made it smell a little damp 
 and close sometimes when there was moist weather ; 
 and those nasty rats that came up from the river 
 and gnawed through the boards and skirtings, 
 trap or poison them as we would. Else, it was a 
 pleasant room in summer, when you didn't want 
 the sun, which fell upon the front enough to scorch 
 it." 
 
 " So we hear," said Faith. " And you see there 
 are the old brown curtains, and the old carpet, and
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 147 
 
 tables, and chairs, and looking-glass, and fender and 
 fire-irons ; and very nice they look, too. - " 
 
 Molly's eyes glistened ! 
 
 "Yes, and the two china owls, too, on the mantle- 
 shelf, I declare \" exclaimed Hester, eyeing them 
 fondly ; " and the match-pots, Mrs. Ann made, and 
 the hour-glass." 
 
 " Looks quite natural ! don't it," sighed Molly, 
 with her gaze on the baize table that " poor dear 
 master used to count his money on." 
 
 "It pleased Mr. Lyons so much," smiled Faith, 
 " that he let it stand, as you see, untouched. The 
 carpet is very old. But ' it reminds him,' he tells 
 Miss Rachel, ' of what he used to think very fine 
 indeed ! when he was a boy, and came to see Mr. 
 Balfour once, when he gave him half a guinea." 
 
 It was the climax — Molly's heart could bear no 
 more — out burst the tears. Nor were they dried 
 away, till, being reminded by Hester, going home, 
 " how good and just and merciful Providence was in 
 all its dispensations ! and what a thorough christian 
 feeling man Mr. Lyons seemed to be ! and what an 
 angel Miss Rachel was ! and how kind Faith had 
 been to Bony, notwithstanding his bad manners !" 
 her tearful thoughts reverted to the old store- 
 room. And then, " yes, yes !" she ejaculated, with 
 
 10—2
 
 148 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 pious resignation, " the Lord's will be done, whose 
 judgments are ever just. How good and bountiful ! 
 how very good of Him ! to put it in their hearts, 
 Hester, to do so much for us ? Ah me ! how mys- 
 terious are God's ways \" — and fell asleep, to dream 
 of it. 
 
 Mr. Lyons had taken Rachel to spend the day at 
 Sir Compton ThornhilPs charming place, Buck 
 Park ; so Faith thought it a favourable opportunity, 
 during their absence, to ask the Greystone House 
 old servants to come and see how considerate Mr. 
 Lyons had been for them, while re-constructing and 
 re-furnishing it, as well as for himself. It fulfilled 
 her every wish. What pleasure there is in making 
 others happy ! Why not have suggested it to the 
 insatiable monarch, who would have given his crown 
 for a new sensation.? It would have been difficult 
 for Faith Lincoln to have named a want unsatisfied, 
 as far as her office of housekeeper to Angelo Lyons, 
 Esq., was concerned, when Greystone House was 
 pronounced by the workmen finished. She had but 
 to ask and to have. And asked she had, till she 
 could ask no more ; or, rather, till, in answer to Mr. 
 Lyons' question, " what else do you want ?" she 
 literally was at a loss to conceive. 
 
 But Mr. Lyons knew better.
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 149 
 
 " There is this to be done," he remarked — " Molly 
 and Hester will want their cottage furnished. How 
 do it better than as they would best like to do it 
 themselves ? You are free to give them any part or 
 all of the old things up stairs." 
 
 The very thought of it was ennobling ! And Faith 
 was sensible, on taking leave of her guests next day, 
 of a thrill of satisfaction which every wish fulfilled, 
 since they set foot in Shiphampton, had failed to 
 impart, though it might be truly said she was loaded 
 to surfeit. The consequence of which was, there 
 was such an unusual sparkle in her eyes when Miss 
 Rachel came home and ran to tell her "what a 
 beautiful place Buck Park was ;" and " how much 
 she liked Lady Thornhill ;" and " what a sweet, dear, 
 kind girl Jane Rosse, the vicar's daughter, was f ' but 
 how she " felt afraid of Clara Thornhill, who was so 
 proud !" — that calling her to her bed-side, as usual, 
 before going to sleep — 
 
 "Faith," said Rachel, looking intently at her 
 with her large blue eyes, in the way she always did 
 when she was full of anything ; " what makes you 
 so happy to-night ?" 
 
 " Am I not always so ?" smiled Faith. " I ought 
 to be." 
 
 " Yes, yes. But I know there is something more
 
 150 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 than that now. Of course you ought to be ! But 
 what were you singing about so gaily when I 
 came in ?" 
 
 " Gaily !" laughed Faith. 
 
 " It seemed so to me." 
 
 " Ah, you were so gay yourself, Miss ! It was 
 about The Lost Boy. Do you call that a gay 
 song V 9 
 
 " Oh, no ! But you were singing it so gaily, so 
 sweetly ! Not as you sometimes do, when I could 
 cry almost to hear you. Who taught it you ? Why 
 do you love so to sing it, Faith ? Do tell me ! You 
 are always singing it." 
 
 " As I used in France ? Yes, I learnt it there. 
 All the others sang French songs — I that." 
 
 " Because it was English ? and you loved England 
 more than France ? Oh, yes,_Faith, and so do I ! 
 And the words are so pretty ! Whose are they ?" 
 
 " His who wrote them — all but a word or two of 
 my own, which I fancied better." 
 
 " Repeat them, will you, Faith ? Yes, do !" And 
 seeing the sleepy lids gradually dropping, Faith 
 thought the second verse would be enough to lull 
 the fond heart off, and so began : — 
 
 " O'er the mountain, through the wild wood, 
 "Where I used with him to stray,
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 151 
 
 Where the flowers are freshly springing, 
 
 There I wander day by day : 
 
 There I wander, growing fonder 
 
 Of the child that made my joy ; 
 
 On the echoes wildly calling, 
 
 To restore my darling boy." 
 
 When pausing, to see if she were still awake — 
 u Go on, Faith, please !" came with such an irre- 
 sistible appeal, that there was no refusing it ; espe- 
 cially as the old song seemed to have no less a 
 charm that night for Faith herself than for sweet 
 Miss Rachel : — 
 
 " But in vain my plaintive calling, 
 Tears are falling all in vain, 
 I shall never, but in Heaven, 
 See his darling face again : — 
 Fare thee well, my child, for ever ! 
 In this world I've lost my joy; 
 In the next we ne'er shall sever, 
 There I'll find my angel boy." 
 
 " Faith — why do you love that song so much ?" 
 
 " Because it reminds me, Miss Rachel, as you 
 know, of the poor baby I lost out of my lap at Pau, 
 under the beech trees. Ah, Miss ! do you think I 
 can ever forget it ? No, no !' 3 
 
 " Was he a pretty baby, Faith ?" 
 
 " As beautiful a boy as eyes ever beheld ! much
 
 152 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 more beantiful than either his father or mother ! He 
 was like neither of them. His features were per- 
 fect ! But, you know, he was only a baby then ; 
 and babies change so as they grow older." 
 
 " Faith \" 
 
 « Yes, Miss Rachel." 
 
 " You can't think what a beautiful place Buck 
 Park is I" 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes — and what a dear, good, kind girl Jane 
 Rosse is ! I am sure I shall love her. She is 
 two years older than I am. I wish I was sixteen, 
 Faith !" 
 
 " Do you V 
 
 " Don't you think we shall be very happy now at 
 Shiphampton ?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! we shall, shan't we ? And papa has 
 given Molly and Hester the old things, to furnish 
 their cottage with ? How good of him !" 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" 
 
 " No wonder you were so gay, Faith !" 
 
 " You will never go to sleep if I talk to you so." 
 
 " How different the house looks now ! But shall 
 I tell you what I love best of all in it — of all the 
 fine thiDgs I mean — yes, it's true — what I brought
 
 THE NEW HOUSE. 153 
 
 from France with me — you know — my dear old 
 poor-box." 
 
 And Faith too well knew whose child Rachel 
 Lyons was, on the mother's side, to doubt it.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 
 
 Faith's fondness for her favourite song — the 
 pathetic words of which this was not the first time 
 by many Miss Rachel had asked her to repeat, when 
 she heard her singing it — seems to require some 
 explanation. 
 
 Faith Lincoln's was a strange disposition. It 
 must have been, to have so calmly and consistently 
 and continuously borne with Mr. Lyons, which was 
 " very trying at times, almost beyond endurance." 
 Then, again, Faith had certain deep grievances of 
 her own, with which he, Angelo Lyons, her late 
 father's partner at Trinidad, was mixed up, to 
 subdue which required no little control over herself. 
 Her father was well off when Mr. Lyons joined him 
 in business; soon after which he became involved 
 in bad speculations, and failed, and died broken- 
 hearted; and in less than three years afterwards
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 155 
 
 Angelo Lyons was a flourishing man. It called for 
 nerve, on Faith's part, to believe " it was her father's 
 fault that they had failed, not his." So people said. 
 And so Mr. Lyons said himself; and his undoubted 
 skill and tact in business, and the good name they 
 earned him, and the rapid fortune besides, seemed 
 to leave no doubt about it in Trinidad and where- 
 ever else he was known. 
 
 So Faith took counsel with herself, and prudently 
 yielding to circumstances which she could not pre- 
 vent, was chiefly concerned in determining how best 
 to act under them. She was then penniless; the 
 wide world was before her ; she had many friends ; 
 but Faith Lincoln was not one to eat the bread 
 of dependence; and hearing how sadly Mr. Oliver 
 Boys, of Antigua, was put out by the death of his 
 housekeeper, she applied for the place, and obtained 
 it. It was a good place. But if Faith's ambition 
 ever indulged the hope that Mr. Boys would make 
 her his wife, she was disappointed. It certainly 
 was well worth trying for. Perhaps she did try for 
 it. And if so, why not ? She came of as good 
 blood, by her father's side, as Oliver Boys, and 
 might have sat at the head of his table among the 
 best of his class, and lost nothing by it. She was 
 young, she was lady-like in her speech and manners,
 
 156 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 unusually well-informed, handsome, agreeable, when 
 she chose to be so, could sing, and play on the 
 piano, had rather a commanding air, a well-toned 
 voice, knew when to hold her toDgue, and when to 
 talk, was graceful in company, had surprising self- 
 possession, and an indomitable spirit equal to any 
 effort or emergency, when so minded. 
 
 But Mr. Boys died a bachelor — and the wide 
 world was again Faith Lincoln's, to try her luck in 
 and traverse wherever she would. Whereupon, 
 Faith, in commercial phrase, l took stock ' of how 
 she stood. Clearly, she was more than £1,500 
 better off than when she entered Mr. Oliver Boys' 
 service — no bad fruits of five years clever conduct. 
 And she owed it all to her own steady efforts ; 
 but for which, would he have left her anything ? 
 Oliver Boys was not a man to be satisfied with duties 
 half done." 
 
 Of course it gave her great weight in Leonard 
 Balfour's eyes, who was then courting Ann Boys ; 
 and there was a home still in Antigua for her, with 
 every comfort and consequence if she would have 
 it. But Faith said nay ; she would go to 'her friends 
 in Trinidad, and " consult her late father's partner, 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons, as to the best mode of investing 
 her little capital. He would put it out for her at
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 157 
 
 more interest than she could get elsewhere." It 
 seemed a strange step for her to take, with it always 
 pressing on her, " how her father had failed when 
 Mr. Lyons joined him in partnership." Never- 
 theless, Faith deemed it right that she should go to 
 Trinidad ; and to Trinidad she went, as the reader 
 knows. 
 
 And here all that can be reliably recorded of her 
 further progress, is, that, after taking counsel with 
 Mr. Lyons, as to her future course, she accompanied 
 her relative, Mrs. Ruth LyOns, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Leonard Balfour to France, and was Mrs. Balfour's 
 constant attendant there till the loss of her baby. 
 That then— when Ann Balfour rejoined Aunt Joyce 
 in Shiphampton — she returned to Trinidad to wait 
 on Miss Lyons, and be a sort of nurse and governess 
 to her during a severe illness. And that then — 
 when Rachel got well again — she prevailed on 
 Mr. Lyons to let her take her to visit Mrs. Ruth 
 Lyons at Pau, "the air of which," she said, "would 
 do her so much good ; and where she could have 
 competent professors to teach her French, and 
 German, and Italian, and music, and dancing and 
 deportment." 
 
 From childhood, Faith Lincoln's was ever a calm, 
 contemplative, deep-thinking mind, which preferred
 
 ]53 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 rather to sit apart and look on at others playing 
 their various games of life, than to take a hand in 
 them. Her father used to call her ' Miss Proper/ 
 her mother, ' Miss Perfect ;' though neither of them 
 had any specific reason for so doing, unless it were 
 that Faith was the only one of their five that shewed 
 the slightest sign of particular intelligence, all the 
 rest being as shallow-minded and silly as themselves. 
 And perhaps it was this very circumstance that had 
 more to do, in giving the tone and temper to Faith's 
 character, than anything else. By nature she was 
 grave ; by nature her parents and brothers and 
 sisters were gay and giddy; there were few real 
 sympathies between them ; and, consequently, each 
 held to his and her own ways, none the less de- 
 terminedly because the individuality was so flattering 
 when they saw themselves reflected in each other. 
 
 Faith, though the youngest girl of the family, 
 was the first to leave home. Her father coughed 
 spasmodically, as he wished her good-bye, and her 
 mother whimpered a little, and her brothers and 
 sisters whined a good deal ; but if she herself shed 
 a tear, no one saw it, whatever she felt. Feel she 
 did very glad to be free. Once off, she had to rely 
 on herself. It had no terrors for Faith. Was she 
 of a hard nature ? had she any of Mr. Lyons' sturdy
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 159 
 
 indifference to ordinary feelings, that they agreed so 
 well together ? Oh, no ! Faith had sensibilities 
 enough, and warm ones, too, when anything hap- 
 pened to elicit them. Otherwise with ninety-nine 
 persons out of a hundred she passed for a very cold, 
 unemotional person. Perhaps it rather tallied with 
 her temper to seem so ; may be silence suited her 
 best. But she could be gracious, nay affable, if she 
 pleased ; though for once that she smiled, days, 
 weeks, months would pass, and scarcely a momentary 
 change be visible in her placid, imperturbable face. 
 
 Some said she was ' absurdly proud ;' others that 
 she was 'heartless ;' others that she had ' something 
 on her conscience/ Proud she certainly was, and 
 cold as a stone to those she had no care for, and it 
 must be owned that her usual aspect and demeanour 
 told of anything but a mind at ease. 
 Had Faith been ' disappointed in love V 
 Many were of that opinion, and there were 
 grounds for it. Not that it was supposed, by those 
 who knew her, that her affections had any share in 
 her ambition to be Mrs. Oliver Boys. If her heart 
 were her own when she went there, rumour belied 
 her. Rumour positively asserted that she had ' long 
 before then parted with it to Mr. Angelo Lyons ; 
 but whether she possessed his, in return, nobody
 
 160 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 could tell but herself. She had always expressed 
 great admiration for his person from the first time 
 he became intimate with her father ; and his atten- 
 tions to her were remarkable after his wife's death, 
 and his natural seriousness and reserve increased so, 
 that no woman could please him but her.' Further 
 than which, not even rumour professed to be sure of. 
 But of one thing every one, who knew anything of 
 the matter, was certain — there seemed to be a very 
 good understanding between Mr. Angelo Lyons and 
 Faith Lincoln j though not a lip had yet dared to 
 do more than express its wonder, c whether Faith's 
 fidelity and cleverness would ever meet with its 
 expected reward V 
 
 What was it to anybody but Faith herself ? No 
 doubt Faith was well aware of what was said of her, 
 and of the lively interest folks took in her behalf; 
 but if she ever heaved an anxious sigh about it, it 
 was not on that account. Mr. Lyons was no or- 
 dinary man, to be told by any one living what he 
 ought to do, or what not. Anything in the shape 
 of an espousal of her cause, come from whom it 
 might, would have only curled his lip. His heart 
 was not to be won in that way. To be won at 
 all, it must see with its own eyes and act from its 
 own impulses ; and it might possibly have been the
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 161 
 
 doubt in her mind u whether, with all his preferences 
 for her, as a woman, she came up to that standard 
 which alone would make her his, at the altar and 
 in the sight of all men V* that sometimes filled her 
 bosom with anxious thoughts — none the less agitating 
 because known only to herself. 
 
 Faith had gained little from home-influences to 
 improve her. The idle levity there from morning 
 to night — for be it remembered, courteous reader, 
 Faith Lincoln was brought up as a lady — had the 
 effect of rather confirming and deepening the natural 
 matter of fact impressions of her mind than in any 
 way removing them. So that by the time she left 
 it to get her own living, those in-born impressions 
 had been fixed in it so firmly by conviction, that it 
 became a settled principle with her to adopt them 
 as her rule of conduct, and patiently and persistently 
 follow them, lead her where they would. They led 
 her through many trials and troubles before they 
 brought her to Mr. Oliver Boys. No matter — there 
 she was. And the first letter she received, after her 
 safe settlement in Antigua, was from Mr. Augelo 
 Lyons, to say " how extremely happy he was to hear 
 from her that she had succeeded so well." 
 
 Had an acute anatomist of the human heart been 
 looking on when Faith Lincoln read that letter of 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 162 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 congratulations from Angelo Lyons, he would have 
 seen, notwithstanding the marble calmness of her 
 face, the stifled agony she was suffering. 
 
 " Then she loved him ?" 
 
 So they said in Trinidad; and, "for that very 
 reason, left him to live in Antigua." 
 
 Well, Mr. Oliver Boys died; and Faith was fif- 
 teen hundred pounds richer for it. It materially 
 altered her position at Trinidad. Who knew but 
 that Mr. Boys would have married her, had he lived. 
 The presumption was that he would. u He never 
 would have left her any legacy," people said, " if he 
 had not greatly esteemed her. There was no doubt 
 it would have been much larger but that he was 
 taken away so quickly. She must have had sterling 
 worth, as a woman, to have so pleased Mr. Oliver 
 Boys. It was a great feather in her cap \" and none 
 welcomed her back to Trinidad, for it, more cordially 
 than Mr. Angelo Lyons. Five years' separation had 
 worked changes in them both, but their re-union 
 suffered nothing in old memories from it. He was, 
 if possible, handsomer, she of a more comely pre- 
 sence; five summers had brought his manhood to 
 riper maturity, and more fully developed only what 
 was most charming in her; he was but thirty- six, 
 she but thirty-two, and as they stood side by side,
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 163 
 
 they might have been taken for brother and sister, 
 so much alike were their features and figures. 
 
 Whatever they were in each other's estimation 
 from this time, in the world's, five years' separation 
 had given a new character and complexion to their 
 intimacy. Nothing could be more correct than their 
 bearing towards each other, nothing more proper 
 than their conduct. Scandal was silenced. And 
 when it transpired that Faith Lincoln had Miss 
 Lyons in charge during the long illness she was laid 
 up with, and afterwards had taken her to Pau for 
 change of air, and French, and German, and Italian 
 — it was evident "how capable and trustworthy she 
 must have been, to have been left fifteen hundred 
 pounds by Mr. Boys ; and into whose hands, there- 
 fore, could Mr. Lyons have entrusted his child, while 
 away from him, with more confidence than to her 
 who had done her duty so well ?" 
 
 But though her two years' absence in Antigua had 
 robbed Faith of none of her personal charms in Mr. 
 Angelo Lyons' eyes, he could not but see how much 
 graver she had grown since she took farewell of 
 poor Ann Balfour, after the loss of her baby-boy. 
 Evidently that calamitous event had made a deep 
 impression on her; the more so, perhaps, because 
 many said "it never would have happened if she 
 
 11—2
 
 164 AXGELO LYONS. 
 
 had been as careful as she ought to have been." It 
 was, indeed, a mysterious affair ; and some hesitated 
 not to attach an amount of blame, if not suspicion, 
 to Faith, as Master Leonard's nurse, that might well 
 trouble her, if her conscience were as clear about it 
 as Ann Balfour herself always believed it to be, 
 however much Ann dreaded Ruth Lyons. 
 
 Faith was never quite herself again from that 
 time. It gave a turn and tone to her future charac- 
 ter that often brought Angelo Lyons's piercing eyes 
 on her, when she thought herself unobserved, with 
 an expression in them of such deep meaning, there 
 was no fathoming it. It was compounded of hope, 
 and fear, and certainty, and doubt, and wonder, and 
 admiration, as if sometimes he hardly knew whether 
 he admired her or not ; when seeing him watching 
 her, she would lift her dark eyes to his with a look 
 of such entire devotion to his interests, that he must 
 have been harder than case-hardened steel itself not 
 to have responded to, whatever he felt. 
 
 There is no such thing as a ' heartless' woman — 
 there never was, and there never will be, as long as 
 nature has a hand in it. The veriest she-devils 
 acknowledge it towards their offsprings. Lady 
 Macbeth did ; and even that dreadful mother who 
 sent her babe adrift the other day down the Pad-
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 165 
 
 dington canal in a basket, carefully suckled it first. 
 There is the native germ of the mother in every 
 woman's breast : it may be blighted and blasted in 
 one, and beautifully brought to blossom and bear 
 abundant fruit in another, but no woman's heart is 
 without it ; there it is, inseparably implanted and 
 interwoven in her by the law of her being ; it was 
 born with her, and it will die with her ; she could 
 no more quite dispossess herself of it than she could 
 change her sex, or, in fact, be the hideous monster 
 that she sometimes appears. 
 
 Which only applies to Faith Lincoln thus. — 
 From childhood Faith was called "heartless;" and, 
 up to the day on which, by her " culpable negli- 
 gence, she let the baby-boy, intrusted to her care, 
 be stolen out of her lap, while asleep, no one seems 
 to remember any evidence of aught, in the shape of 
 the mother, on her part. But then she changed, 
 they said; "and not even Ann Balfour herself 
 seemed to take poor little Leonard's loss more to 
 heart than Faith Lincoln did." 
 
 If not the mother speaking in her, what was it ? 
 
 Perhaps it was the difficulty that Angelo Lyons 
 felt to answer this question to his satisfaction, which 
 caused him to scan her so curiously at times when 
 she was more thoughtful than usual.
 
 166 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 The mention of that melancholy day never failed 
 to affect Faith, though it required a keen eye to see 
 how much. And Mr. Lyons would purposely talk 
 of it, and of its consequences to him in a worldly 
 point of view; during which' he would sit and note 
 every change of her countenance, while she replied 
 to his questions with all the calm readiness of one 
 who felt it a relief to have her woman's sympathies 
 thus plainly appealed to, and find such a vent for 
 them. It was a subject Faith never shrank from; 
 nay, she talked of it to Miss Lyons often er than any 
 other; for Rachel loved to hear about it, and listen 
 to those touching words of the old song that had 
 lulled her to sleep so often in France, better than all 
 the other songs Faith sang her. For there was a 
 touching cadence in her voice when she sang that 
 song of The Lost Boy, so sweet, so full of feeling, 
 that Rachel had then but to think of her "dear, 
 darling mamma," who used also to " sing to her at 
 Tobago so sweetly !" And then she was pretty sure 
 to presently twine her arms round Faith's neck; 
 when, if she were the " heartless" creature they said 
 she was, oh, how deceitful that woman's heart of 
 Faith's must have been, how desperately wicked ! 
 
 Faith seemed to feel the loss of the stolen babe 
 entrusted to her, acutely. Many said it was " the
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 167 
 
 first time she had ever exhibited any feeling at all ;" 
 that she had " never manifested much affection even 
 for her parents, and brothers, and sisters ; and, yet, 
 had always had such a happy home." Perhaps 
 Faith thought otherwise. It was luxurious enough ; 
 and no fault would have been found with her, had 
 she, like Zoe Ghrimes, of Barbadoes, done nothing 
 from morning to night but eat and drink, and doze 
 away the sultry hours, and play the guitar. Faith's 
 home afforded her every thing but food for the mind ; 
 unless that might be called occupation which was 
 continually convincing her how vain, and empty, 
 and undignified it was, compared with what would 
 have made a very different creature of herself, could 
 she have found a nature in it congenial with hers, 
 instead of the perpetual folly and frivolity it teemed 
 with. 
 
 Doubtless, there was the true woman's heart 
 under that placid, imperturbable surface of Faith 
 Lincoln's, only know how to get at it. Though so 
 long dormant, there the germ had been from her 
 birth, sensible and prolific enough, but unseen, 
 unknown ; because but one ruling principle could 
 rouse it into action, and prove what it was capable 
 of. So she was said to have "no feeling." Till 
 the loss of little Leonard ^out of her lap, when she
 
 168 ANGELO LYONS 
 
 fell asleep with him under the trees at Pau, seemed 
 so palpably to refute it, that even Angelo Lyons, 
 deep-seeing as he was, w r ould sit and curiously study 
 her countenance, as if he had yet to discover more 
 in her than he already knew of. 
 
 Nor were Rachel's the only ears in the house that 
 listened wistfully when Faith was singing the song 
 of The Lost Boy, which she often did when alone, 
 or when little Miss coaxed it out of her. No less 
 would Mr. Lyons give absorbed ear to it than his 
 child did, of an evening when the house w T as quiet, 
 and Rachel had gone to bed, and he had no com- 
 panion down- stairs in that dull, dingy, back-room of 
 his, but his own thoughts. Then, when Faith's 
 mournful tones reached him, he would rise from his 
 chair, and pace up and down the room, with the door 
 a-jar, that he might hear it the better; though, 
 sometimes, his brow was clouded and knit impa- 
 tiently, as if it wearied him, and he wished it over. 
 He might have put an end to it in a moment, as he 
 would have done quickly enough with anything else, 
 had it plagued him ; but he never did. Nay, though 
 Rachel would often make her continue singing it to 
 her till she fell asleep, so that at last it grievously 
 iidgetted him, on he would go, meditatively mea- 
 suring the floor from end to end, sometimes stop-
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 169 
 
 ping to listen, as if to catch the words ; when he 
 would keep repeating them to himself, especially the 
 two lines — 
 
 " I shall never, but in Heaven, 
 See his darling face again," — 
 
 Till sinking again into his chair, as the song 
 ceased, he would drop his chin on his chest ; and if 
 he slept not till Faith came down, there remain 
 motionless till she did, and buried in thought. 
 
 It was but natural that Mr. Lyons should never 
 hear that song sung without emotion. Little Leo- 
 nard's sad fate— first to be kidnapped by gipsies, it 
 was supposed, and then drowned at sea — might well 
 afflict him, mixed up as it was with so much mys- 
 tery as to defy all their endeavours to unravel it. 
 That the boy was dead no one doubted for a mo- 
 ment ; but, as poor Aunt Joyce said on the night 
 of her murder, "no one had seen his dead body, 
 so how could they say he was drowned ?" 
 
 " Very true/' Mr. Lyons would admit, when any 
 one talked to him about it ; and it might have been 
 those words of Aunt Joyce's recurring to him when- 
 ever Faith was singing the song, that set him mus- 
 ing as to " the possibility of there being anything 
 more in them than the fretful pining of a sorrowing
 
 170 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 spirit, clinging to the last to the treasured one idea." 
 How held he the great wealth that he then possessed 
 from the Balfour property ? Subject of course to 
 any better right than his own to it. There could 
 be no other right, if in existence, than Leonard and 
 Ann Balfour's son's, their only child, born at Pau, 
 in France, and who perished with the rest of the 
 Jeanne Jules 9 passengers, when it was wrecked off 
 the Dutch coast. It was enough to set him think- 
 ing, when he heard Faith continually repeating — as 
 if it needed repetition — 
 
 " I shall never, but in Heaven, 
 See his darling face again :" 
 
 for she always dropped her voice at that part, as 
 if, though she gave it utterance, it was with a for- 
 lorn hope that it might not be true ; at least, so it 
 possibly sounded to Mr. Lyons, sharing her feelings 
 as it was natural he should do, suddenly loaded with 
 riches by the strange course of events as he had 
 been. 
 
 Had Faith Lincoln any doubt about it ? Did 
 she or did she not harbour a forlorn hope in that 
 " unfathomable" heart of hers that the poor babe had 
 not perished ? If so, it is difficult to conceive what 
 grounds she had for it. For it was as certified a fact, 
 in the eyes of the world, that the Jeanne Jules French
 
 FAITH LINCOLN. 171 
 
 trader was lost at sea, and all on board of her, as 
 that — from circumstances that had since come to 
 light — " the lost boy and his kidnappers were on 
 their way, in her, to Amsterdam when she went 
 down within half a mile of dry land." 
 
 What hopes, therefore, Faith could have had that 
 a baby, like little Leonard Balfour was, could escape, 
 when all the rest perished, by universal accord, 
 might well be a marvel to Mr. Lyons, if indeed he 
 supposed she had any. 
 
 Probably Faith had none. But she never sang 
 that favourite song of hers, in his hearing, but it 
 struck Mr. Lyons that her heart heaved, notwith- 
 standing her voice faltered, when she came to the 
 words — 
 
 " I shall never, but in Heaven, 
 See his darling face again ! — " 
 
 and why was that, if she believed him dead, and 
 that he, Angelo Lyons, was in possession of no more 
 than his own ?
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THROWS SOME LIGHT ON THE RELATIVE POSITIONS, 
 AT GREYSTONE HOUSE, BETWEEN MR. ANGELO 
 LYONS AND HIS HOUSE-KEEPER. 
 
 It has already been observed that, with extraor- 
 dinary charms of person and manners, when it 
 pleased him to be agreeable, Mr. Angelo Lyons was 
 a clever man of business. At first sight you would 
 have scarcely supposed it. There was an easy, in- 
 different elegance about him that rather favoured 
 the impression, till you knew him, that he preferred 
 ease to energy, and the placid pleasures of his library, 
 and pictures, and marbles, and matchless many gems 
 of art and vertu, to the ordinary routine of the 
 counting-house. If so, the more the merit. For 
 engage in what he would, he did it well, thoroughly 
 well, to the satisfaction of all parties, be the issue 
 what it might to himself. Whether he lost or won, 
 Angelo Lyons went manfully and honourably through
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 173 
 
 his commercial transactions. There was no shirk- 
 ing, with him, nor shuffling ; what he undertook, 
 he carried out as cheerfully, seemingly, when it was 
 to his disadvantage, as not. His word, once pledged, 
 was never broken ; his sign- manual to a bill or 
 draft was " money down f and to have dealings 
 with him, of any kind, was soon the same thing in 
 Shiphampton, and about, as being " in very good 
 hands," and enjoying a very creditable position of 
 your own. 
 
 Perhaps Angelo Lyons owed some of the praises 
 he got to people's first erroneous views of him. It 
 was such an agreeable surprise, may be, to find the 
 polished gentleman, at market, so conversant with 
 its customs, so easy and affable, so pleasant, so plain- 
 spoken. Freezing as he looked, at first sight, he 
 melted you the moment he addressed you ; and if 
 he shook hands with you, the elevation it gave you 
 in your own esteem was something j but nothing if 
 you were modest, to what it did for you in the eyes 
 of others, who, to have been similarly complimented 
 by Mr. Angelo Lyons — with that " high mind of 
 his" — would have been a pretty penny in their 
 pockets, made the most of. 
 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons was popular. His handsome 
 face and elegant person and manners did a good
 
 174 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 deal for him, but his perfect knowledge of business, 
 and skill and tact in his dealings, and the unflagging 
 spirit he carried them on with, as also the reputation 
 he got of " never taking an unfair advantage, though 
 often able from his wealth and influence to command 
 the market/' did a great deal more. His steady in- 
 tegrity and straightforwardness, too, were proverbial. 
 It was " see how Mr. Lyons does this," and " see 
 how Mr. Lyons does that ;" till do w T hat Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons would, it was right ; and very proud indeed 
 was the opulent old Borough of him ! 
 
 Shiphampton was eminently a mercantile town ; 
 and had Mr. Lyons been the mere elegant gentle- 
 man he looked, at market, the first time he quietly 
 passed through it on the arm of his friend Sir 
 Compton Thornhill, who had "taken a vast fancy to 
 him," his riches, however abundant, would have 
 made a very different sort of great man of him in 
 the business- driving eyes of the persons he would be 
 constantly jostling against in his new home, to what 
 he intended they should do before he came to live 
 there. Mr. Lyons took a pretty correct measure of 
 himself and his whereabouts ere he determined to 
 reconstruct Greystone House, and to make it 
 his residence. He was quite aware of what kind of 
 place it was, and how he must live and act in it, as
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 175 
 
 the successor of Balfour, Balfour & Co., ever to be 
 the man in Shiphampton he wished to be. It could 
 be achieved but in one way : and where Angelo 
 Lyons had said / will, achieved it would be, if 
 within the pale of possibility. 
 
 There were great temptations to induce him to 
 make Shiphampton his home. He stepped into a 
 ready-made wholesale shipping-business there, second 
 to none in England for its Western relations. It 
 could have been carried on without him, by deputy ; 
 but Angelo Lyons knew his own power, and pre- 
 ferred to trust to it, in a matter so material to him- 
 self, rather than to any one else's. It would not 
 in the least lessen his Trinidad interests ; but, on 
 the contrary, considerably improve them. He would 
 be " killing tw r o birds with one stone ; and in a 
 short time make the House of Balfour, Balfour and 
 Co. worth much more than it had been since the 
 death of Tristram Balfour, and the management of 
 it had devolved on others. It was not paying what 
 it ought, and unquestionably what it could be made 
 to pay in competent hands." 
 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons felt himself fully equal to the 
 task he had set himself; and it remained to be seen 
 whether he would be easily beaten. The carrying 
 it out to the extent he meditated involved no little
 
 176 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 labour and outlay ; but " what then, if he had money 
 enough, and it gave him plenty of food for his mind V* 
 For that was what he "must have," Faith told 
 every one who spoke, in surprise, to her about his 
 activity — "food for the mind; or, with his enter- 
 prising disposition, how could Mr. Lyons be as 
 happy as he is V said Faith. 
 
 It was a fine example to set ! and soon got Mr. 
 Angelo Lyons a name in the town that made Faith's 
 eyes sparkle! and put the fine old English Baronet, of 
 Buck Park, at his wits end to make out " how it was 
 he had been their High Sheriff twice, and a Justice 
 of the peace for two and twenty years, and thrice 
 returned for the Borough, without opposition — yes, 
 and spent twelve thousand a year among them since 
 the death of his father, — and, beyond what they could 
 get out of him every year in the county, how much 
 did they care for him ? — not a rap V 3 
 
 "And, yet, you are always doing so much for 
 them V Mr. Lyons would condolingly remind him, 
 when they talked of it. 
 
 "Much! yes!" would Sir Compton "humph" 
 out, with a snarl, which Lady Thornhill could never 
 break him of, nor Clara either, his eldest daughter, 
 who, they said, could do anything with him; "and 
 more fool for my pains ! Aye, like that, don't
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 177 
 
 they? — hunting with my hounds, thinning my 
 pheasants for me, bagging my partridges, coursing 
 my hares, scouring my covers, and never a trout now 
 to be caught worth cooking ? No doubt. Always 
 doing for them !' And if I wanted a bill backed 
 to-morrow for Five Hundred — how then? Scribble 
 Angelo Lyons across it — ha ! ha ! — good for Fifty 
 Thousand, eh, in a moment ? Splendid thing to be 
 you I" * 
 
 It more than ever satisfied Mr. Angelo Lyons 
 that "the real greatness of individuals, as of nations, 
 lies in their credit." But as it was an argument 
 the least likely to be entertained for an instant at 
 Buck Park — ' ' the proud blood of whose noble Lords 
 and Masters could be traced back to beyond King 
 John," they said — he prudently permitted the bluff 
 old baronet to grunt and grumble as he liked, when 
 thundering out against " those democrat-dogs down 
 town," by which he got on exceedingly well with 
 him, as he had every wish to do. 
 
 Mr. Lyons was not blind to the personal sacri- 
 fices he should make, as well as the pounds, shil- 
 lings, and pence sterling, when he went to live in 
 Shiphampton. It was a place by no means after 
 his own heart. It was essentially a mercantile sea- 
 port town, where wealth was to be amassed ; but 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 where, though there was some learned talk of the 
 arts, and of literature, and of science, at some of the 
 rich dons' palatial houses, and at the Reading Rooms, 
 and among the civil engineers on the docks and 
 railways, few men of refined tastes would have found 
 food for a mind like Angelo Lyons/ exquisitely alive 
 to all that breathed of intellectual enjoyment, as 
 cultivated by him, after his own peculiar views, 
 through many years' study of the best " schools" at 
 home and abroad. But duty, with Mr. Lyons, was 
 before all other considerations ; and it being evident 
 how it only needed his personal superintendence to 
 restore the once first-class House of Balfour, Balfour 
 & Co. to its former opulence, he would " shew the 
 town how much he respected the honored memories 
 of his predecessors of Greystone House, by making 
 it his home ; and so employing his large wealth to 
 enrich the place which, before all others, had the 
 first claim on him, as its lineal possessor." 
 
 " Nobly done \" said the Town, with one voice ; 
 and Mr. Angelo Lyons took possession accordingly, 
 amidst such greetings, and congratulations, and 
 ringing of bells, and flowery speeches, and flowing 
 of ale, as might well flush Miss Rachel's pretty 
 cheeks, as she went with Faith over their splendid 
 new home, and elatedly acknowledged " how different
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 179 
 
 it now looked to when she first saw it from the road 
 with her papa," that day of their arrival at the hotel, 
 when she felt " so sad at the thought of living there, 
 that she cried all night about it." 
 
 Different it was, indeed ! And while the " nine 
 days wonder" lasted, the astounded eyes from all 
 parts, to see M how Mr. Lyons meant to wipe away 
 the odium off it by means that might not a little 
 advantage those who came there," bore testimony to 
 the excellent judgment he had evinced in studying 
 only how to best act in the matter for the town's 
 good, as well as his own, apart from all personal 
 feelings, and in defiance of all doubts and difficulties. 
 
 And there was no less curiosity to see how the 
 inside of Greystone House had been improved and 
 beautified, than the out, by its new master ; nor 
 would Mr. Lyons have any one refused who ex- 
 pressed a wish to be shown over it. There was free 
 admittance during the month he was in London 
 with his daughter, to complete it, and to find a com- 
 petent governess for her; at the end of which the 
 public satisfaction was replete. There was nothing 
 too good they could say of a man who had " be- 
 haved so handsomely, in return for the expenses he 
 had been put to." The housekeeper's untiring civili- 
 ties, too, were "beyond praise, besieged as she had 
 
 12-2
 
 180 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 "been from morning to night by sight-seers f* and as 
 for Miss Lyons, " if she were only half as beautiful 
 as the portrait of her mother in the boudoir, she 
 must indeed be an angel ! and no wonder her father 
 idolized her as he did, and thought nothing he could 
 do for her too much." 
 
 And now, left in quiet possession of his own, it 
 was "straight-sailing," as the people expressed it, 
 " with their new Borough Councilman ;" who soon 
 gave such fresh life and vigour to the shipping in- 
 terests he shared so largely in, that, put on their 
 mettle by it, up rose his brother shipowners, de- 
 termined to see what they could do, too ; and a fine 
 feather it was in Angelo Lyons' cap, as he walked 
 down to the docks, to be told on all sides how " the 
 good old times 6f the Balfours had come back again," 
 and to whom they owed it all. 
 
 Praise is pleasant. No philosophy is above it. 
 Perhaps no man ever seemed to care less for it, for 
 himself, than Angelo Lyons, and probably no man 
 liked it more. He was exceedingly averse to com- 
 pliment, and impatient of personal remarks ; but 
 Faith Lincoln knew him well enough to go through 
 her news-budgets, when she had any to tell him, 
 notwithstanding those curls-of-the-lip with which
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 181 
 
 he listened to her, though seemingly it was so much 
 to his credit. 
 
 " Oh V he would answer, abstractedly, with his 
 eyes on his hands, which were singularly white and 
 well-shaped — " say all that of me, do they ? Ha ! 
 and what would they say, I wonder, if, instead of 
 the rich man I happen to be, I was of those who 
 alone have much chance, they tell us, of going to 
 heaven ? What sort of a fellow should I be then V 
 "Neither better nor worse than you are now," 
 replied Faith, with her usual unreserve, when thus 
 invited to talk with him freely. 
 " Oh ! How do you mean ?" 
 " That it's always possible to be rich and grasping, 
 as well as poor and generous." 
 
 " Ha ! money hardens you, does it ?" 
 " When it don't, it's well, sir." 
 " Hem ! I suppose so. Well for all parties ?" 
 and seemingly pleased with the thoughts it induced, 
 "What a pity it should have that unfortunate 
 effect," he smiled. 
 Faith made no reply. 
 
 " To shut you out for ever ! A comfort for the 
 poor ? Strange, isn't it ?" 
 
 But if he wanted her answer, to curl his lip at it, 
 Faith was silent.
 
 182 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 u Hem — hardens — shuts you out ? Vile ore ! 
 Ha !— aud all of us, high and low, rich and poor, 
 striving for it so ! And can't do without it, any of 
 us — no, not even the saints of earth themselves, 
 can they?" 
 
 "The good, and just, and generous," rejoined 
 Faith, slightly colouring, " cannot have too much 
 of it." 
 
 " Hem !" — still with his eyes on his hands — 
 " that seems so odd, too — and they are usually the 
 poorest ? And are so kept, eh, out of much mercy ? 
 Silly souls, not to know it. Not the devoutest of 
 them but would be Angelo Lyons to-morrow — queer, 
 eh?" 
 
 " How so — if they think him just and generous ?" 
 and while saying it, Faith's voice perceptibly sank a 
 little, like it always did when she came to the 
 words in the song of The Lost Boy that she loved so 
 much : — 
 
 " I shall never, but in Heaven, 
 See his darling face again." 
 
 Till recovering it, Mr. Lyons would raise his eyes 
 from his hands, and scan her from head to foot so 
 curiously that it called for all her self-possession to 
 maintain her ground with him — on her ability to do
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 1S3 
 
 which depended the continuance, or otherwise, of 
 her influence over him. 
 
 Still, in spite of his affected indifference to his 
 neighbours' high opinion of the " noble use he 
 made of his money," Faith's news-budgets never 
 failed/to interest Mr. Angelo Lyons. If his lip curled 
 at the homage paid by the world to the wealthy, the 
 while it was reckoning them among the c lost ones/ 
 Angelo Lyons, with all his superiority to vulgar 
 emotions, knew the value of a good reputation, as 
 also the great gain there was in godliness, worship 
 at the shrine of whatever idol he might. 
 
 And when Faith put this to him in any of their 
 parlour debates : — 
 
 " Yes/' he would acknowledge, with a smile, " I 
 am a member of society, that's true, and must take 
 the consequences. I must, per force, obey its laws ? 
 Of course. And if it put five thousand a-year in 
 my pocket, no bad laws either. I'll tell you what I 
 see staring me in the face wherever I go." 
 
 " Ah, yes !" rejoined Faith, with a suppressed 
 sigh, " and so do I." 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 But, on reflection, Faith preferred keeping the 
 rest to herself. 
 
 ""Why sigh about it?" he asked her.
 
 184 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Did I ?" 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 a You often say I sigh when I don't know it." 
 
 " Which proves how silly it is ! It's a habit 
 you've got. You never used to do it. There 
 igain I" as her breast heaved, " what was that ?" 
 
 " However bright the present/' she said — and as 
 their eyes met, his were not without a look of ten- 
 derness, which for an instant brought the tears into 
 hers — " however happy I may be now, the past had 
 its sweet dreams, too — very sweet ones \" 
 
 " Dreams only ?" 
 
 Her lips quivered; but, checking herself — "What 
 is it that is always staring you in the face ?" she 
 asked him. " You were goiug to tell me when I 
 interrupted you." 
 
 " The four words first taught me, as soon as I 
 could first see, and hear, and understand — the four 
 words comprising, in a nut -shell, the pith and pur- 
 pose of the whole social code— the four words we all 
 of us live, and eat, and drink, and sleep, and thrive, 
 or starve, to the tune of, from the cradle to the 
 grave — society's mainstay — nature's first law — take 
 care of yourself. It goes very well, don't it, with 
 my motto — Fiat ? No bad idea that of old Isaac 
 Lyons, my great-grandfather ? Fiat S Ha ! — yes,
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 185 
 
 and do it he did, if it had to be done, whatever it 
 was — no flinching, no, no ! Began life without a 
 penny ; when he first set foot in Liverpool, hadn't 
 a change of clothes to his back ; carried all he had 
 in the world in a bag over his shoulder — and see 
 what he died worth ! Fiat ! Hem ! — yes — did it, 
 didn't he, to some purpose ? Took care of himself, 
 shrewd, sensible man ! when they wouldn't give him 
 credit for a loaf because he hadn't shaved himself 
 for six weeks, and was hungry. Fiat! he said; and 
 — it's a fact — before that day ten years he enter- 
 tained the town mayor and corporation at dinner." 
 
 It was a story that always so excited Mr. Lyons, 
 that Faith was sure, when he told it, which he some- 
 times did in his talkative, rambling moods, how he 
 w r as feeling at the moment — anything but as con- 
 tented as he appeared to be with his own baseless 
 tenets. But think and feel what she might, Faith 
 gave patient heed to all he said to her ; but for 
 which she would have lost that hold of him which 
 none had over him but herself, because, when vexed 
 or troubled, to whom could he go, but to her, with 
 those burthened hearts'-full, for counsel and comfort ? 
 young as Rachel, his daughter, was, and scrupu- 
 lously avoiding, as he now did, everything that could 
 mar her happiness. For well he knew how unhappy
 
 186 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 it had made her more than once when he had un- 
 guardedly given utterance, in her presence, to any of 
 those free-thinking sentiments of his which he 
 usually reserved for his housekeeper's ear alone, 
 when inclined for dispute. They always saddened 
 Rachel greatly. For they brought to mind the 
 many distressing scenes she had been witness to, 
 when a child, between her father and mother ; and 
 how her " dear, darling mamma, used to take her 
 on her lap, as soon as her father was gone, and talk 
 to her, with tears in her eyes, of the Great Giver of 
 all things, and how those only were truly good and 
 happy in this world who placed their trust in 
 Him." 
 
 Faith was no match for her master in argument ; 
 or, rather, there w T as no argument she could use that 
 had any chance against his crushing fatalisms. He 
 w T ould calmly listen to her to the end, though every 
 word she said curled his lip with the "pity" he felt 
 for her, and then would knock it all down with a 
 blow by the old question — 
 
 " Do you believe in what you preach ?" 
 
 " In God's omniscience ? Yes." 
 
 "That, literally, f not a sparrow falls but with 
 His fore-knowledge V " 
 
 " True."
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 187 
 
 " Then He also knows when you and I shall fall ? 
 That is but reasonable." 
 " Quite." 
 
 " And His decrees are immutable ?" 
 
 "Yes— and just." 
 
 " How avert or avoid them, then, if we would ? 
 If He knows when you will die — you will die then, 
 won't you ?" 
 
 " I am not competent to argue it." 
 
 " So it seems — humph ! — argument ! — it admits 
 of none." 
 
 " It needs none — that my reason tells me." 
 
 " Hem — your reason ? — given you for what ?" 
 
 " To discriminate between good and evil — between 
 what makes me happy or otherwise." 
 
 " Hem — and how can you do that, if you are not 
 a free agent ?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 « How ?" 
 
 « So"— and she sat down, and rose again. 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " 1 will do it again" — and she did it. 
 
 " Hem — mighty clever — call that free-agency ?" 
 
 H What do you call it, sir ?" 
 
 " Obeying the ruling impulse, which, if obeyed, 
 rules you— nothing else."
 
 1S8 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " And if not ?" 
 
 " There's no effect, because there's no cause — you 
 don't do it, that's enough." 
 
 And thus settled, Faith, to avoid further words, 
 which usually ended in plunging him into the 
 glooms all day, would escape from him. And when 
 she encountered him again, she would be so gay and 
 lively, that, whatever the mood he was in, he could 
 not but acknowledge that she had " a very effectual 
 way of wheedling him over ; which solely resulted 
 from the simple reason that it was so fated — he was 
 to be wheedled — like the sparrow that was to fall, 
 and it fell." 
 
 How was Faith to deal with " strange ways" like 
 these ? And the difficulty was the greater, because 
 she knew Mr. Lyons was in earnest. He had 
 proved that by the way he had shortened his ex- 
 emplary wife's days by his irreligious contempt for 
 all that was most precious to her. Her gentle spirit 
 sank under it; but she died praying for him. 
 Faith's task was no easy one. But she had volun- 
 tarily taken it on herself, and would go through 
 with it to the best of her power. Mixed up with 
 which were probably some personal feelings, which, 
 if not wholly unselfish, were natural enough, and 
 such as, if he suspected them, he could not blame
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 189 
 
 her for. At all events, she knew too well in what 
 lay any present or future influence she might have 
 over him, to defeat the only chance she had with 
 him, by lessening, through any weakness of her own, 
 the interest he felt in her, kept up far more as it 
 was by his astonishment at her self-command than 
 his admiration of her in any shape. 
 
 "Past errors were past, the only atonement for 
 which could be in the future ; and that wholly de- 
 pended on the use, wise or otherwise, that she made 
 of the present." It was a stern compact Faith 
 entered into with herself when she yielded to the 
 father's entreaties that she would take charge of his 
 child, and, as far as possible, supply the place of a 
 mother to her, and she would " sacredly fulfil it." 
 From that hour Faith was bound by a solemn vow 
 to Heaven, " come what might, to look at Angelo 
 Lyons in no light but as her master, or her hus- 
 band." She best knew how true, or how false, were 
 the accusations that took her from him to live with 
 Mr. Oliver Boys. She knew for certain that she 
 had laid herself open to grave suspicions ; but seem- 
 ingly her excellent conduct at Antigua had outlived 
 them, and obtained her a reputation that spoke for 
 itself, and left her nothing to fear from her enemies. 
 Though guiltless, she had been " very indiscreet f
 
 190 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 and " time should shew how she could outlive that 
 stigma, too, in a way more flattering to herself than 
 running away from the struggle, because of its perils. 
 In short, she would enter his service — she would take 
 charge of his child, and be unto her a mother, as 
 far as she could. Yes, and prove to him that he 
 had formed a very mistaken estimate of Faith Lin- 
 coln, if he supposed — fascinatingly handsome as he 
 knew she had always thought him — that there was 
 any way he could ever make her amends for what 
 she had suffered for him, but one. Failing which, 
 she was still Faith Lincoln, and must be true to 
 herself. Fiat was his motto ; and Fiat should be 
 hers, in a case where it especially behoved her to do 
 faithfully and unfalteringly what had to be done, be 
 the result to herself what it might." 
 
 Against his infidelities Faith was powerless to 
 contend, except in such a way as, by opportunely 
 shewing him, if she could, how unhappy they made 
 him, carried that sort of not disagreeable conviction 
 with it, which, curl his lip in derision at it as he 
 would, she could see had the effect of restraining 
 him from giving speech to them in his daughter's 
 presence, whose unclouded happiness was his chief 
 thought from morning to night. Evidently the 
 father had not sufficient confidence in his own creed
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 191 
 
 to care to make it his child's. He held his breath 
 when she was by, lest he should sully her joy. It 
 was a powerful weapon in Faith's hands, used with 
 address ; in fact, the only one that, while yielding 
 to, he serenely smiled on, as though he could afford 
 thus to be vanquished. And Faith made the most 
 of it. " Hush \" she would say to him, admoni- 
 torily, when his voice rose beyond its usual quiet 
 musical key, while proving to her what a fool she 
 was to argue with him — " what would Miss Rachel 
 think if she heard you T" 
 
 Sweet girl ! Rachel little knew the important pari 
 she was destined to act in the dark drama that had 
 to be played out by her beneath the roof she then 
 thought so splendid ! ere, irrespective of all creeds 
 or conclusions, was brought to light wherein and 
 whereby His law omnipotent, the law of laws, would 
 be vindicated, surely, thoroughly, triumphantly vin- 
 dicated, though all the cunning and cleverness of hell 
 itself were leagued against it. And well she did 
 not know. Nor, with all his deep-seeing, dreamt 
 Angelo Lyons, her father, of the angel of goodness 
 his child — the image of her sainted mother — was 
 fated to be — -" lovely, short-lived, fragile, flower 
 only," as he called her, " born to sweetly bud, and 
 blossom, and when its fleeting day was over — die."
 
 192 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Yes, as did her heaven-minded mother," Faith 
 would feel herself urged, by duty, to reply ; " for a 
 life in comparison with which this is but a moment 
 of preparatory, painful, precarious existence, at best. 
 That 'beautiful bud,' as you call her, with her 
 yearuing soul ever looking upward to the happy 
 home, as she says, ' where the angels have taken her 
 dear, darling mamma, to live for ever,' — to die like 
 the soulless beasts that perish ? Oh, no, you don't 
 mean it ! Every evidence, every instinct of one's 
 nature, proves the contrary." 
 
 " Hem — evidence — instinct of one's nature — 
 whose nature V 
 
 " Mine — yours — everybody's." 
 
 " Mine don't prove anything of the sort." 
 
 "It does!" 
 
 " Hem — polite — you ought to know." 
 
 " I know you claim a better end for your child, if 
 not for yourself, than the dog's out there." 
 
 "If not for myself I" rising, with livid lips, as if 
 stung by it, though no sting was intended. 
 
 " You often say you value life only for her sake." 
 
 " True." 
 
 " You would do anything in your power for her 
 happiness ?" 
 
 " Of course."
 
 HIS HOTJSEKEEPEB. 193 
 
 " And not willingly breathe a word in her pre- 
 sence, to mar it." 
 
 " Natural enough." 
 
 "You would not talk to her as you do to me. It 
 would make her wretched. Why ?" 
 
 " Because it would. All her ■ instincts,' as you 
 call them, go the other way. But I may be right 
 for all that. The difference of organization, that's 
 all." 
 
 " You know you are wrong, sir ; you know that 
 you would rather suffer death this moment than 
 have her pure soul polluted by any such poison.'' 
 
 At which he would stop short in his moody 
 measurement of the room from corner to corner, 
 and fixing his piercing black eyes on her, seem for a 
 moment or two in two minds whether to resent it 
 or treat it with scorn. 
 
 "Poison!" 
 
 " If not, why so carefully withhold it from her ? 
 Why keep it only for me ? Because you know it 
 won't hurt me. I give you credit for that. You 
 trust to the antidote I have for it. Yes, yes. 
 Thank you ! My age and experiences" emphasizing 
 it, " will save me. But you are more tender with 
 the beautiful young bud, all your own ; and you 
 need be. The air everywhere else is pestilential 
 
 voi 13
 
 194 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 enough for the young buds and blossoms, without 
 bringing it home. You will not let it breathe on 
 your innocent, lovely young flower, if you can help 
 it ; you would burn it out of your own lips, first, 
 before you would kiss her, as her father, if it were 
 there. What does it prove V 
 " Hem ! You have a tongue." 
 "Too free a one, perhaps, sir, when I lose all 
 patience." 
 
 " Means well, no doubt. Go on." 
 "I was but going to add, sir, that you know 
 Miss Rachel, like her mother, is piously disposed V 
 " And will lose nothing by Faith Lincoln ? Hem ! 
 so it seems." 
 
 " I hope not. I was going to say, by her new 
 young friend, Jane Rosse." 
 
 - l Hem — the vicar's daughter — pious also ?" and 
 though his lips curled, his eyes brightened as he 
 said it, as if it gave him joy. 
 
 " Yes ; but always so gay and happy — such a 
 sweet disposition !" 
 
 " Hem — amiable— easily pleased ?" 
 " She is all you could wish for, as a companion 
 for Miss Lyons." 
 
 " Hem— that's right." 
 
 " And they seem so fond of each other !"
 
 HIS HOUSEKEEPER. 195 
 
 " Hera — do they ? Neither been duped yet." 
 
 " It is so essential for girls of their age to have 
 good companions." 
 
 " Hem — got them, haven't they V 
 
 " They will be a great acquisition to each other. 
 Gay and grave, with girls, always match best in the 
 end. You have made this a .plendid place ! but 
 one can't call Greystone House a gay one ? Miss 
 Rosse makes it all life and smiles when she comes ; 
 which is so good for Miss Rachel, who, like her 
 mamma, wants drawing out before you can tell what 
 a dear, noble girl she is; though so meek and quie*, 
 and apt, perhaps, to be a little too grave." 
 
 " Hem — what's o'clock ?" — which, with the deep- 
 drawn breath that accompanied it, on the evening in 
 question, being Mr. Lyons' usual signal that he 
 could talk no more, Faith left hira to ruminate at 
 leisure on what she had said to him with such 
 freedom ; nothing doubting but that it would find 
 its way to his convictions safe enough, when no eye 
 but One was looking on at the struggle. 
 
 13—2
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WAS MR. ANGELO LYONS THE UNBELIEVER HE 
 
 SEEMED ? 
 
 It must not be supposed from the conversation 
 between Mr. Lyons and Faith Lincoln in the fore- 
 going chapter, that Angelo Lyons was, constitution- 
 ally, either churlish or sullen. He was neither, by 
 the law of his nature. But there were times when 
 he was both, apparently ; and then, perhaps, more 
 than at any others, was he belying himself. 
 
 No doubt he stood for what he really was in his 
 housekeeper's eyes, so far as his natural temperament 
 went ; which, though sometimes moody almost to 
 moroseness when alone with her, was mixed up with 
 so much that was delightful, if it went with the 
 whim, as well as dark, that it encouraged her to use 
 a freedom of speech with him, when provoked, 
 which, otherwise, she would not have dared to em- 
 ploy. At all events, he was never so angry with
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 197 
 
 her for " that tongue of hers," as he called it, but 
 that he let her " go on ;" which, woman-like, taking 
 as the best of all proofs that he knew she was right, 
 what hopes she drew from it were best known to 
 herself. Among which was no doubt the sincere 
 belief that, in taking so much pains for him, she was 
 as solicitous for his happiness as she was for her 
 own. 
 
 As a boy, Angelo Lyons had early manifested 
 such impatience under scholastic restraint, that he 
 was twice convicted of lampooning the clerical cha- 
 racters of the masters, and flogged no end of times 
 for shirking ' prayers/ and profaning the sabbaths. 
 But it did him no good. It only set his subtle wits 
 to work all the more to avenge himself. Till out 
 came a series of Biblical pen and ink caricatures, at 
 once so clever and scandalous, that the whole school 
 was concerned in it, for their own sakes, to give up 
 the culprit — and Master Lyons paid the penalty, no 
 slight one, without flinching. It well scourged 
 him ; but made him popular. It redoubled his thirst 
 for revenge. But it would ill become these pages to 
 narrate at length how he next got his back bared 
 for the rod. He began, this time, with verse the first 
 of the first chapter of Genesis ; and went through 
 that Book, and the next, and the next, with his
 
 198 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 humble " etchings," as he called them. Till the place 
 getting too hot to hold him, he gave a ' splendid cold 
 feed* to the select few who stuck to him j and having 
 undergone next day's stinging f rod in pickle/ like a 
 martyr, saved the authorities the painful necessity 
 of expelling him, by throwing himself into his 
 mother's arms one evening when she least expected 
 him, and shewing her such terrible stripes on his 
 poor back, " got," he told her, " for Truth's sake," 
 as what tender mother could have gazed at un- 
 moved ? Certainly not Angelo Lyons's. 
 
 " And from that day I never looked again into a 
 Bible," he would tell Faith, with flashing eyes. 
 " What I might have done, if they hadn't flogged it 
 out of me, I don't know. Gone on dutifully, be- 
 lieving all I was told, may be. Then how wise I 
 should have been ! Spare the rod, and spoil the 
 boy, eh ? Not they ! Beat it into me ! What ? 
 Truth ? Curious that ! Not a fellow hardly among 
 us but hated chapel-bell. Might do anything rather 
 than shirk that. Why didn't we like it ? Why 
 want to beat it into us till we did ? Truth ! Hem ! 
 always in such fear of itself. Oughtn't to be, 
 ought it ?" 
 
 With what Faith said in answer to which, w r e need 
 not concern ourselves. Probably it was common-
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 199 
 
 place enough, as any answer she could make him 
 must have been, based on the old story of " human 
 frailties and infirmities," and their "unfortunate 
 proneness to prefer, unless strictly guarded and 
 governed what was pleasant to what was profitable, 
 m things eternal as well as earthly." 
 
 It is possible to have no religion, and yet be a 
 very polished, fascinating member of society. In- 
 fidels are not necessarily uncouth, or mean, or dis- 
 agreeable. On the contrary, it seems as if nature 
 had been at some considerable pains in their forma- 
 tion, to make them often very charming persons. 
 " Highly gifted," is an expression frequently applied 
 to sceptics and scoffers. And so they often are ; being 
 preternaturally endowed in many instances with such 
 wonderful skill and acumen, added to their other 
 engaging qualifications, that the superhuman heights 
 to which they can soar, as well as the profound 
 depths to which they can dive, may well astonish 
 the weak minds of those simple, contented, credulous 
 folks, who, though their consciences forbid them to 
 do likewise, cannot but stare, and wonder, and ac- 
 knowledge how "immensely clever they are, and 
 acute !" 
 
 People said the same of Mr. Angelo Lyons— how 
 wonderfully well-read he was ! how ingenious ! how
 
 200 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 greatly gifted ! what an eye he had to see to the 
 bottom of things !" 
 
 He was immensely rich, too, which detracted 
 nothing from his merits; nay, gave his words a 
 weight which he himself would have scarcely hoped 
 to obtain for them, had he been as poor in pocket as 
 the Vicar, his parish pastor, was; whose morning 
 sermons he made it a point of attentively listening 
 to with his daughter and her governess every Sun- 
 day. Not that the good christian folks, of St. 
 Luke's manifested any impatience under their pas- 
 tor's orthodox sermons, no such thing; but they 
 certainly gave extraordinary ear to words from the 
 rich man's lips, which had the Reverend Roland 
 Rosse, their minister, let fall from the pulpit, would 
 have lost him his gown. 
 
 And probably Angelo Lyons plumed himself on 
 it. He saw how he was greedily listened to and 
 applauded; when, "had he been as poor as their 
 spotless pastor, who had their souls in his hands, they 
 would have hissed him to scorn." It tallied with his 
 contempt for them ; with what he knew they would 
 think and say of him, in all probability, if they saw 
 him with the eyes with which he looked at himself. 
 
 Was Angelo Lyons the unbeliever he seemed to be ? 
 If so, " how was it," as Faith Lincoln asked him,
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 201 
 
 " it never angered him to see his child delightedly- 
 reading the pious books Jane Rosse brought her 
 from the vicarage ? Why, too, did he so suddenly 
 and sedulously hush his voice, if she came into the 
 room when he was talking in a way he knew would 
 grieve her ? Or why, if he approached the chamber 
 where she was at her prayers, or singing, with Jane, 
 the hymns for the next Sabbath, did he stop and 
 listen with rooted attention till their voices ceased ? 
 And then when she came to say ' good night/ kiss 
 her so fondly, so fervently, while her arms were 
 round his neck, as she used to always twine them 
 round her mother's, before she laid her head on her 
 pillow ?" And could not Faith see how he strove 
 to belie his better nature by those battles the deter- 
 mined spirit was having with itself, to conceal from 
 her how profoundly it affected him ? He joined 
 them not in their evening prayers, nor songs of 
 praise ; he neither prayed nor sang with them, as a 
 father might have done ; but it seemed he watched 
 for the times to steal softly up stairs from his 
 library, if unobserved, to hearken to their voices. 
 Perhaps it had curled his lip but a little while before, 
 to hear Faith's glowing accounts of the "beautiful 
 love," as she called it, there was between the two 
 girls ; but he was near enough, nevertheless, while
 
 202 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 they were mingling their souls together, in token of 
 their joy, their innocence, their happiness, not to 
 miss a word of what they said or sang. He partook 
 not of their feasts of love ; but it deeply thrilled him 
 to be witness to them. He professed to have no 
 faith in love or friendship, unless it were a parent's ; 
 love was "a dream," he said, and friendship "a. 
 delusion ;" but Jane Rosse's cheery, gladsome little 
 voice in the house never failed to please him ; nor 
 was he ever tired of listening to her praises, though 
 accompanied with such a list of beautiful new scrip- 
 ture stories in Rachel's lap, as soon as Jane was 
 gone, as might well call for his best attention to do 
 justice to, before she embraced him for it. 
 
 And it was at those times that Angelo Lyons 
 ought to have sat for his portrait. For then he 
 looked so handsome ; because for the moment what 
 there was in him of God's giving touched his heart 
 and told in his looks and voice and movements, 
 whether he would or not. So that Faith Lincoln 
 many a time wished she had been an artist, to have 
 committed the pleasing impressions to canvas; if 
 only to have shewn him, in his ugly moods, how 
 widely different we all of us look — even the best- 
 favoured — when we are fairly on good terms with 
 ourselves, than when we are not.
 
 THE UNBELIEVER,. 203 
 
 True, the world at large only saw Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons in his witching moods ; so it had the advan- 
 tage over Faith, in being well contented with the 
 man as they met him face to face, and shook hands 
 with him, and smiled or frowned with him, as the 
 occasion called for. He was then perfect at all 
 points. No face could have more " heart" in it, no 
 voice more "manly kindness;" every movement was 
 " full of unstudied grace," every look and word 
 " the perfect gentleman/' every action " a noble 
 deed." 
 
 Miserly wealth maintains a certain sway, however 
 sordid it is ; but Angelo Lyons' s munificence was 
 kingly ! By which, please not to infer, respected 
 reader, that Mr. Angelo Lyons was absurdly pro- 
 fuse at one time and capriciously parsimonious at 
 another. No man could be more even, as likewise 
 more open-handed, than he was. In his nice dis- 
 criminations, as to fit objects, and times, and occa- 
 sions, lay much of his popularity. He gave largely, 
 but he gave well ; he frittered away not a halfpenny 
 uselessly ; his gifts always carried a good percent- 
 age of interest to both giver and receiver ; simulta- 
 neously with what he drew out of one pocket, he 
 returned, so to speak, doubled, to the other ; he en- 
 riched the town he lived in ; and ere he had been one
 
 204 ANGELO LYO.>S. 
 
 of its magistrates and borough councilmen five years, 
 not even Tristram Balfour in his palmiest days had 
 the capital at command that he had. 
 
 It spoke for itself — virtue was its own reward. 
 " The liberal soul shall be made fat," they said to 
 each other; "and he that watereth shall himself be 
 also watered." 
 
 Angelo Lyons had read the scriptures, and knew 
 full well— 
 
 " There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; 
 and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, 
 but it tendeth to poverty/'' 
 
 Clearly what he did with his money brought it 
 back to him tenfold: — "Everything he toucher 
 turned to gold ; there was no end to his riches !" 
 
 But it may be asked, if Angelo Lyons were not 
 the unbeliever he seemed, why have acted so con- 
 trary to his conscience ? 
 
 It would have been as easy for Mr. Lyons, with 
 his enormous wealth, to have been as orthodox, in 
 the world's eyes, as the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 had he wished it. He could pay his way well, and 
 have it swept and cleared of all obstacles which, 
 otherwise, have woefully impeded him. Nay, the 
 Reverend Roland Rosse himself, a good and just man, 
 and " the soul of truth and sincerity/'' they said,
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 205 
 
 deemed it not beneath him, while accepting his 
 wealthy friend's munificent donations for his church 
 and parish poor, to blandly smile, and cordially 
 shake the unbeliever's hand, and " give no ear to 
 the shocking stories told of him." Had he credited 
 which for one moment, he must have rushed from 
 his polluting presence^ left the gold untouched, and 
 never entered his doors again. 
 
 It curled Angelo Lyons's lip when he was gone. 
 He had sworn to his weak, fond, foolish mother, 
 when he shewed her the deep rod-marks on his 
 back, " got," he told her, " for truth's sake," that 
 he " would never look in a Bible again ;" and he 
 never had. From that day to the present it was a 
 closed book to him ; though wide open enough 
 every morning and night to Rachel. In that he 
 had scrupulously kept his promise to his wife on her 
 death-bed — " whatever his own irreligious opinions 
 might be, they should never influence his child's." 
 Seemingly he had smarted severely for truth's sake, and 
 it should smart for his. From that hour he entered 
 into a stern, determined league with himself to be 
 " subject only to common sense, to believe nothing 
 but what his reason approved, and to make the first 
 law of nature his rule." His loving wife was no 
 longer by him to reprove him with her tears ; but
 
 206 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 his child, her image, was; and "what he had pro- 
 mised her, with her dying eyes on him, he would 
 perform. 5 '' It was a point of honor with him to do 
 that ; which proved he had a conscience. 
 
 It proved " more than that " to one eye and heart 
 that narrowly watched him from morning to night 
 — Faith Lincoln's. She had known him from boy- 
 hood ; from those sunny days of promise when he 
 would choose her out of all the other fair Tobago 
 maidens to talk to him, and walk with him, and read 
 and write with him, and listen to his wild stories 
 under the cotton-trees; till he persuaded her to think 
 of only him, and " what a day of bliss inconceivable 
 it would be when they were both old enough to have 
 no consent but their own to ask, to make them 
 happy !" Who of all who had ever studied him most, 
 knew him as well as Faith did ? And, yet, with 
 all her knowledge of him, who knew but herself the 
 painful days and nights she had spent, vainly trying 
 to explain it to herself " why it was he was always 
 struggling so, in spirit ? struggling, as was manifest 
 enough to her, against his own convictions V 3 
 
 She had often heard of ' the poor, bruised back/ 
 and of his vow to avenge it ; but that did not ac- 
 count for it. They were wounds too small to take 
 so long to heal. He had healed far worse than
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 207 
 
 those. Yes, and could and would have cured those 
 also, but for some hidden, inexplicable motive of his 
 own she could not fathom. " What need had he to 
 dissimulate, to so falsify himself ? The ' poor bruised 
 back' was sound and well again; nay, for that, he 
 owned he had deserved it, and that he f forgave old 
 Bull, the Doctor, with all his heart/ So those 
 wounds didn't rankle much. Truth to speak, it 
 sorely puzzled Faith ; puzzled her to understand 
 u why he so cruelly crushed in himself what he evi- 
 dently sought to cultivate so carefully in his child f" 
 Was it that he wished to be peculiar, and so to have 
 the better pretext for the exclusive life he led ? or 
 that he took a pleasure in exciting people's wonder, 
 for amusement ? He was a strange being ! His 
 friends and neighbours gladly gathered round him 
 in public, where he threw off all reserves; but in 
 private, even among those he liked most, he was cold 
 and distant ; unless when particularly disposed to be 
 agreeable, and then he displayed powers of pleasing, 
 the more captivating because they were rather the 
 spontaneous outbursts, apparently, of a warm heart 
 and well- stored mind, than drawn from him, of ne- 
 cessity, or from any premeditated desire of his own 
 to shine. 
 
 It seemed most consonant with her knowledge of
 
 208 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 his character, as far as Faith could judge, that her 
 first impression was the correct one, viz., " that his 
 peculiar opinions," as people termed them, gave 
 him the pretext he wanted for the eccentric life he 
 led. Out and at home he was not the same indivi- 
 dual. Out, he was ail cheerfulness and ease and 
 urbanity ; at home, grave and care-worn — though 
 rolling in riches — and scarcely ever at rest, or with a 
 smile on his face. So that Faith would jokingly tell 
 him sometimes that " he reserved his best looks for 
 others ;" when he would rouse himself and run on 
 with a succession of such wit and pleasantry, that 
 she was startled to think " how little she knew of 
 his versatile powers of mind, with all her knowledge 
 of him, and what he could be in a moment if he 
 pleased." 
 
 Faith read him pretty correctly ; but not deeply 
 enough, as yet, to see deeper than he chose that she 
 should. It was true that it suited his views to be 
 " strange." It was a word he always smiled to hear 
 himself called. It tickled the whim to a t. It left 
 him in quiet possession of his own; and as his 
 kingly gifts rather increased than diminished, he 
 became " stranger and stranger." " What more could 
 the town want than a man like Mr. Lyons was, with 
 his hand always in his pocket for it ? which proved,
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 209 
 
 didn't it, what a thorough good heart he must 
 have ?" 
 
 But where a keen-seeing, clever, circumspect 
 woman like Faith Lincoln is determined to attain 
 her end, great indeed must be the difficulties to 
 defeat her. And so thought Mr. Lyons, perhaps, at 
 those moments when, more anxious to read the 
 riddle that so sorely puzzled her than to veil her 
 thoughts from him, the chances are he saw through 
 her, with all her circumspection, a great deal clearer 
 than she saw through him. Still, she was Faith 
 Lincoln ; and whether she could or could not attain 
 to the knowledge of what her heart panted for move 
 than any other earthly thing — "time would shew." 
 
 Is Faith Lincoln the only ambitious woman in 
 the world who has flattered herself that "if she 
 could get the object of her affections in her power, 
 he would be hers V 
 
 Her interest in Mr. Lyons was great ; old memo- 
 ries could not be shut out ; he had always told her 
 more of his mind than any one else ; and it piqued 
 her curiosity to conceive why he should wear two 
 faces to her on a subject about which she could 
 see no need, on his part, for disguise or reserve. For 
 she felt sure there was something hidden from her, 
 when he indulged in " those dark moods and sullen 
 
 v-l. r. 14
 
 210 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 fits, so contrary to his nature." His impatience 
 under her eye proved it. All the time he was striving 
 to appear so calm and self-assured, he was acting a 
 part, or she was greatly mistaken. And she could 
 see that he knew she suspected it, which convinced 
 her that there were grounds for her doubts. Had 
 there been none, he would not have lost his temper, 
 which he often did when arguing with her ; whereas, 
 happen what might to ruffle him, before he became 
 so rich, he passed it off with as little care or concern, 
 apparently, as he would have brushed a fly from his 
 face. Clearly, he was not treating her with his 
 former candour ; and it was not in Faith Lincoln's 
 nature to determine on the necessity for knowing 
 the reason why, without good reason for it. 
 
 In short, there was an increasing mystery about 
 Mr. Lyons, when at home, apart from his customary 
 thoughtfulness and disinclination for much talk, 
 unless the theme were pleasant to him, that caused 
 Faith Lincoln more watchful days and wakeful 
 nights than she communicated to any one. As to- 
 wards herself, personally, he was the same as he had 
 ever been since she entered his service to take charge 
 of Miss Lyons — universally kind. Nay, she owed 
 it to her own stern determination to religiously 
 observe the discreet rules she had laid down for
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 211 
 
 herself, on becoming a member of his household, 
 that he was not kinder to her than he was. But, 
 withal, his manner was not quite the same towards 
 her, or she fancied that it was not, since they came 
 to live in Shiphampton; though nothing could 
 exceed his generosity to her, or his seeming desire to 
 make her happy. The change was altogether in his 
 manner — not in tone or action. He was not so easy 
 and unstudied with her as he used to be ; he 
 thought more before he spoke ; and if he suddenly 
 raised his eyes to hers when she was trying to 
 unravel him, they would fall on his hands, and there 
 remain fixed on them ; till brisking up, he would 
 get so gay and chatty, that it brought old times 
 back again ; which never failed to make them both so 
 blithe, that she forgot everything but " how hand- 
 some and interesting he undoubtedly still was above 
 all men she had ever seen." 
 
 Though it never would have been easy to say of 
 what creed Angelo Lyons was, he had so far studied 
 his amiable and exemplary wife's happiness as to 
 shock her as little as possible with his crushing fatal- 
 ims. What he did avow of them troubled her 
 enough, without adding aught to them ; but since 
 her death, and especially since his accession to the 
 Balfour property, all his old-hated school-history 
 
 1 1—2
 
 212 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 seemed to have revived with tenfold intensity, and 
 the startling latitudes he now gave himself knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 Faith was puzzled to account for it. Indeed, 
 there was now more necessity than ever for the 
 father to look well unto his ways for the sake of his 
 child. While her pious mother was her shield, and 
 guide, and guardian, it mattered less how he will- 
 ingly left Rachel entirely to her care ; but now he 
 was her only parent — the sole earthly being she 
 looked up to for her daily rule of conduct ; and 
 loving her tenderly, as he did, it might well rack 
 Faith's brains to make out how it was he went such 
 an extraordinary way to prove it. True, her pre- 
 sence hushed him in a moment, when he was giving 
 utterance to what he knew would sadden her; but 
 Rachel was an observing girl, and pondered over, 
 and took things none the less deeply to heart 
 because she was dutifully loving, and obedient, and 
 pure-minded. She had seen her mother weep when 
 in conversation with her father, and it had drawn 
 her, child-like, all the closer to her side ; but he was 
 her father ; and then she was too young to under- 
 stand why it was he and her dear, darling mamma, 
 so often disagreed. Now he only studied how to 
 make her happy ; and " how beautiful be was !
 
 THE UNBELIEVER. 213 
 
 every one said, " how good ! how generous ! — how 
 proud she ought to be of him \" 
 
 " Yes," communed Faith with herself ; " and so 
 am I ; so we all are ! And, though it gratifies him, 
 he curls his lip at it; sneers at what sounds 
 pleasanter to his ear than all the jingling of his 
 money; spurus with one eye what the other sparkles 
 at ; scorns, seemingly, what he most covets ; 
 throws away what he has just given thousands for ; 
 wants, and don't want ; will have, and won't have ! 
 And, why? There must b& a reason. l Simple 
 enough/ he would say — ' cause and effect — that's 
 all. 5 True ! Some cause there must be — must \" 
 and then relapsing into deep thought, there was 
 little doubt, by the smile that presently came in 
 place of the cloud on her brow, while her needle 
 went on mechanically with its work, but that Faith 
 Lincoln had too good an opinion of her own powers 
 to regard as unattainable anything she had deter- 
 mined to do, which could be done if she would. 
 
 One thing Faith was resolved to effect, and which, 
 during her many musings on the subject, she 
 wrought herself into the belief that it was her duty 
 to spare no pains to accomplish, for Mr. Lyons's sake 
 as well as her own, viz., to unravel the meaning of 
 his " changed manner '' to her since they came to
 
 214 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Greystone House ; which assumed so strange an 
 appearance, sometimes, when he was in his restless 
 moods, that there was no knowing how it might end, 
 unless she came to the bottom of it. Some said 
 " there was no doubt he would marry again M — and 
 Faith bit her lip, — " as soon as he saw a woman to 
 please him, and w r ho would be a second mother to 
 Rachel." But if it pained her to think of it, she 
 still smiled — smiled as though she either disbelieved 
 it, or had her own private reasons for crushing the 
 thought.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. LYONS ENGAGES AN UNEXCEPTION- 
 ABLE GOVERNESS FOR HIS DAUGHTER; AND IS 
 COAXED BY RACHEL INTO DOING SOMETHING 
 THAT SENDS JANE ROSSE SCAMPERING OVER THE 
 HOUSE LIKE A MAD GIRL. 
 
 Mr. Lyons had been to London to shew Ranhel 
 the sights there, and find a governess for her. 
 
 He took her to dinners, and he took her to 
 balls ; but she shone but little at either of them, 
 except for her beauty, and her rich papa, and 
 the splendid fortune she was heiress to. In com- 
 pany, Rachel Lyons was not animated. She could 
 be scarcely so called at any time. Even with 
 her bosom friend, Jane Rosse, there was such a pen- 
 sive seriousness in her usual look and tone, that it 
 got her many a good laugh from Jane, who was all 
 brightness and gaiety, and never so pleased as when
 
 216 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 she could make her u darling little Grave-as-a- 
 judge, Rachel," as she called her, as gay and 
 happy as herself. 
 
 But Rachel's exceeding loveliness was the theme 
 of every tongue where her father took her. And 
 when it transpired what an enormous fortune she 
 would have some day, if Mr. Lyons did not marry 
 again, it little mattered whether she was animated or 
 as dull as a post, when it was in every mouth " how 
 rich she would be ! — what a splendid match for 
 somebody \" 
 
 Which being the last thought in Rachel's mind, 
 she showed herself off at the brilliant assemblies she 
 was present at, by no means to advantage. That is 
 to say, she was perfectly natural ; though certainly 
 not as much at her ease as she would have been at 
 the good Vicar of Shiphamp ton's quiet parsonage, 
 or in her own pretty boudoir, at home, with 
 Jane Rosse. And so being, was at no pains — how- 
 ever it might have improved her in the courtly eyes 
 of May Fair and Belgravia — to appear otherwise 
 than as she felt, greatly pleased with, and fully 
 sensible of, the kindnesses shown her, but with 
 her heart evidently elsewhere, however her beautiful 
 blue eyes might be smiling their astonishment 
 rather than their delight at it all.
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 217 
 
 And when alone with her father again, he would 
 ask her " how she liked London ?" 
 
 " To live in it ?" she would reply, fondly looking 
 up in his face, as'she settled herself on a hassock at 
 his feet and got as close as she could to him. " It 
 would depend, papa dear, on what I had to do." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " I should not like it at all, without plenty to 
 do — I should feel so dull." 
 
 "Plenty of parties and pleasure-taking V 
 
 "Oh, papa, no!" 
 
 "What else do London young ladies think of? And 
 what else would you" — smoothingback her golden hair 
 off her forehead — " with those pretty features, and a 
 rich, fond, foolish father to give you all you asked ?" 
 
 " Oh, papa ! how can you talk in that way ? 
 You don't mean it." 
 
 Which was true. He had said it to hear what 
 she would answer, and to note the beautiful blue 
 eyes looking up at him fill with tears; as it 
 reminded him perhaps of her mother, of those gone 
 for ever days when, before he lost her, Angelo 
 Lyons never thought of her worth. 
 
 " How so, Miss Conjuror ?" 
 
 " You say sometimes I am so like poor dear 
 mamma ?"
 
 218 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " You are !" 
 
 "Then, papa, you must know better than that parties 
 and pleasure-takings would make me happy. Did 
 they make her happy ? Oh, no ! And they don't 
 make me so. They make me feel— oh, I can't tell 
 you how, papa dear — so different to what Jane 
 Bosse feels." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 ' ' So delighted, she says, when she i3 going to a 
 dance or a pic-nic, that she could jump for joy." 
 
 "Jump for joy !" 
 
 " And it's true ! She scampers about the house 
 as if she were out of her wits." 
 
 " Indeed ! — and can't get little Miss Grave-as-a- 
 judge to move an inch ? How perverse of you." 
 
 " Papa dear." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " You may be equally happy, may you not, when 
 you are grave as when you are gay ?'' 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " It depends, don't it, papa, on " — 
 
 " Turn of mind ? Yes." 
 
 " So I tell Jane. But what do you think she 
 says ? That I take after you" 
 
 "After me?" 
 
 " Yes— and that that's the reason I won't race
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 219 
 
 about with her, because you are not gay, and she 
 can't think why." 
 
 " Not gay — and she can't think why ? Hem — 
 and then you have a race V 
 
 " Indeed no ! And she don't want me. Jane is 
 not that sort of girl. You can't think, papa, how 
 generous she is ! I am much more selfish than 
 Jane is. I won't race about with her if I can help 
 it ; but she will sit hours with me, if I ask her, 
 working, or reading, or talking, or doing something, 
 without a murmur; when I know she would give the 
 world to jump up, if I would, and drag me all over 
 the house. Don't you call that kind, papa dear ? 
 I am not near so generous ! What makes her always 
 so light-hearted ? Her mind, is it not V 
 
 "What gave you that fair, white skin, and my ne- 
 groes in Trinidad their black ones ? Or Jane Rosse 
 her dark-brown locks, and you these golden ones ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! But nature had nothing to do, had 
 it, papa dear, with our dispositions, as they now are ? 
 You can bend a young tree, you know, into almost 
 any form you please ?" 
 
 " But if a peach-tree, it won't yield pears or 
 pomegranates, bend it how you will." 
 
 " No ! But you will improve its fruit, won't you, 
 papa, by culture ? Make it nicer, I mean ?"
 
 220 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " The more you make it bear, the sooner it will 
 die ; the better the fruit, the worse for the root, they 
 say." 
 
 " Oh, papa, what a way to look at it ! How sad 
 it makes you ! It does me, when I hear you talk 
 so." 
 
 (i It need not — it ought not — long life may be 
 no boon." 
 
 " Then why do we all wish for it so ? We should 
 not, should we, if it were wrong for us to do so V 
 
 " Better we did not in most instances. Life is 
 sweet because death is bitter. So they say. Many, 
 too, who have the least cause." 
 
 "Oh! but it must be right to wish to live; or how 
 would dear, darling mamma, who was such an angel, 
 have feared to die ? Think of that, papa !" 
 
 "Kiss me, and say good night; or — out every 
 night in this way till morning — where will all the 
 roses be soon V 
 
 It sent her to bed. But it was quite true the 
 ' roses ' were fast fading that she brought with her 
 from Shiphampton ; and glad enough was Rachel 
 when told by her father that he had engaged a 
 governess for her, and that before another eight and 
 forty hours she would be with Jane Rosse again. 
 
 It had been no easy matter, the finding a gover-
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 221 
 
 ii ess for Rachel, to her father's satisfaction. It was 
 not every qualified applicant for that important trust 
 that would suit Mr. Lyons. He wanted what was 
 oftener offered than obtained, a really qualified 
 person who could fulfil what she undertook, and in 
 so doing would not be a ' martyr.' " He meant to 
 treat her as a lady ought always to be treated by a 
 gentleman, and to amply remunerate her for her 
 services ; but he must hear nothing of inability, or 
 a soul above its station. Her home would be happy 
 or otherwise, in a great measure, according to how 
 she herself made it one or the other. If she had no 
 fear of herself, she need have none of any one else ; 
 as long as her duties were done as they ought to be, 
 she might have every thing else her own way ; the 
 bargain was of her own making, and she must abide 
 by the conditions thereof." 
 
 Having made which clearly understood by Miss 
 Falconbridge, who had no less keen a perception of 
 what was " properly due to herself in such matters 
 than to her pupils/' Mr. Lyons devoted the last 
 two days of their stay in London to taking Rachel 
 to St. Paul's, and The British Museum, and The 
 National Gallery ; and, as a last treat, to a Grand 
 Handel Oratorio in Exeter Hall. 
 
 They were accompanied to it by Miss Falcon-
 
 222 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 bridge ; and " spent the most delightful evening," 
 Rachel assured her new governess, " that she had 
 passed since they left home." 
 
 Nor seemingly was Mr. Lyons less pleased with 
 the acquisition he had secured for his daughter, in 
 Florence Falconbridge, than was Rachel herself. It 
 was a most satisfactory termination to what had 
 caused him no little anxiety — how to find all those 
 most needed qualifications in one person which were 
 so especially important in Rachel's case, left mother- 
 less as she was, and without brother or sister. It 
 had been a subject, too, of such speculation in Ship- 
 hampton, as to the sort of person Mr. Lyons would 
 choose for his daughter's companion and instructress 
 combined, that it greatly gratified him to think he 
 had succeeded so well ; and, as may be supposed, no 
 little interest accompanied Miss Falcon bridge's 
 arrival at Greystone House. An event by no means 
 diminished in attraction by Miss Lyons' s glowing 
 accounts of her; and its transpiring "what an 
 extremely lady-like person she was, and good-look- 
 ing, and nice-mannered ; though with a dignity of 
 deportment that seemed a little stiff, at first sight, 
 and severe." 
 
 In truth, Mr. Lyons had good cause to congratu- 
 late himself. He had well weighed it, and knew
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 223 
 
 what he wanted, when on his arrival in London he 
 advertised in the morning papers. It brought quali- 
 fied applicants enough, but only one with the 
 qualifications indispensable for the home Mr. Lyons 
 offered. Miss Florence Falconbridge was the one 
 chosen out of the thirty-seven politely declined, 
 many of whom were far better looking and sweeter- 
 speeched than Miss Florence Falconbridge, if Mr. 
 Angelo Lyons had only had an eye to exteriors. 
 Indeed, Florence Falconbridge was not all pretty. 
 In some positions, especially if her dark grey eyes 
 were illumined by anything that pleased or angered 
 her, there was just a chance of your calling her 
 handsome ; decidedly favoured as her face was by its 
 lofty forehead, and Roman nose, and classically-cut 
 cheeks and lips, that gave to her ordinary appearance 
 the evidences of a high mind and cultivated intellect. 
 And the way she wore her almost black hair in tight, 
 short bands, leaving her small well shaped ear and 
 queenly neck to add what they could to the sup- 
 position of the blue blood she sprang from, heightened 
 the impression. Her figure also was commanding ; 
 which perhaps gave it that appearance of "stiffness" 
 which rather chilled Rachel when she first saw her. 
 It did not so strike Mr. Lyons. He saw in it only 
 what it arose from, rather a sincere pride in her
 
 224 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 vocation than anything pnt on for appearance- sake, 
 or silly self-indemnity. Evidently Florence Falcon- 
 bridge was not ashamed of what she was doing. 
 Nay, she was proud of it ! 
 
 " It is your pleasure, then," smiled Mr. Lyons, 
 " to take charge of my daughter on the terms 
 stated?" 
 
 " Yes — and my pride also." 
 It was the key to it all. It was exactly what 
 Mr. Lyons desired to find for his child — " a gover- 
 ness who was a governess, and wished to be one, and 
 would be one after she was engaged as well as 
 before." 
 
 Of course it got wind, " what a superior person 
 Miss Falconbridge was ; and how fortunate Mr. 
 Lyons had been ; and now how very different for 
 Miss Lyons Greystone House would be." 
 
 There was quite a stir about it in Shiphampton ; 
 nothing else was talked of for nine days. And then 
 so far from its abating, the curiosity to know who 
 was to be asked to the ' house-warming/ proposed 
 by Lady Thornhill, and enthusiastically seconded 
 by all their friends — as the long- looked -for event so 
 much wanted to draw Rachel Lyons from the loved 
 quiet of her home, more out into society — got to 
 such a pitch, that at last Faith undertook to speak
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 225 
 
 seriously to Mr. Lyons about it, the first oppor 
 tunity. 
 
 Though " a strong-minded man " as people called 
 him, Mr. Lyons, being but human, had his weak 
 points. One of them was his sensitiveness to popu- 
 lar opinion. He was pretty sure of his friends, for 
 he was rich ; but this was not enough for him — he 
 must gain over his enemies also. Of course he had 
 his foes as well as- his friends, or he would have had 
 no merit. He expected it. But it always bright- 
 ened his eyes far more to have the multitude on his 
 side than the select few. He hated the mob ; but 
 acknowledged its power; and was the "kindest 
 gentleman" in Shiphampton to the "great un washed" 
 of that busy, populous place; to do anything for 
 whom, in the town, was a fine day's work for old, 
 young, or middle-aged, who happened to be in 
 luck's way. Surely Angelo Lyons must have had 
 some sense of religion in him — fatalist and free- 
 thinker as he was — to have so valued the suffrages 
 of the poor ? They were good tidings for him when 
 told " how well the people spoke of him V Then 
 he would rouse himself from the contemplation of 
 his white hands, and listen with an earnestness be 
 never evinced even when his rich friends talked of 
 making him their Mayor. 
 
 vol. i. 15
 
 226 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 His homely habits, too, and devoted love for his 
 child were in every one's mouth ; as also his " noble 
 resolution" to reside where he was, much to his own 
 discomfort in many respects, for the sake of the 
 town. It was also deemed so praiseworthy of him, 
 shewing the tender respect he did for his wife's 
 memory, in not marrying again, unless he could 
 insure his daughter as good a second mother by it as 
 his first was. All applauded him for this, except 
 those who had their own reasons for the contrary. 
 And when came rumours of " what an unexception- 
 able person" he had engaged, in Miss Falconbridge, 
 to be Miss Lyons' governess and companion, public 
 curiosity might well be on the qui vive to get a sight 
 of that gifted lady, and judge for itself what likeli- 
 hood there was of her ever being Mrs. Angelo Lyons. 
 Mr. Lyons anticipated no less : — 
 " They will all be at their wits' end to mark the 
 kind of woman I have selected for my daughter," 
 he smiled to himself. " Hem — the very person I 
 wanted — hem — yes — so she is — unexceptionable — 
 undeniably so." 
 
 Angelo Lyons, Esq., held an exalted social posi- 
 tion, and must have felt that the eye of the world 
 was on him. Men, under " the world's eye," feel so 
 differently. It elates some, but depresses others.
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 227 
 
 Organizations widely differ. They nerve one man 
 with any amount of moral courage and high spirits 
 while they fill his more sensitive or conscientious 
 neighbour, though no less ambitious of distinction 
 than himself, with far more anxiety than exultation. 
 There is this comfort — the race is not, necessarily, 
 to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; nay, the 
 " tortoise" sometimes arrives first, they say, and the 
 u hare" last ; greatness is not always the result of 
 high-ways ; the 5z/-ways lead to it no less than the 
 high; so that the pace be sure and steady, it will 
 last longest, and in the long-run often come in 
 winner, by sheer dint of patient progress. 
 
 " It is how the finest fames and fortunes are 
 made," Mr. Lyons would tell the friends who ex- 
 pressed surprise sometimes at the pains he took 
 about small things, " which were not worth the 
 trouble they gave him." 
 
 He quite differed with them. Argue he did not ; 
 for he never argued with any one but his house- 
 keeper j and then he did it rather to amuse himself 
 by hearing her talk, than for any gratification the 
 sound of his own voice gave him. His friends won- 
 dered at " the deal of trouble he gave himself to 
 please the poor — the most grasping and ungrateful 
 creatures in the world." 
 
 15—2
 
 228 AKGELO LYONS. 
 
 " I find it so in many instances/' admitted Mr. 
 Lyons. But he relaxed not in his steady endeavours 
 to do his best for them ; and if street homage were 
 any evidence of his popularity, truly if he had had 
 no horses to his carriage when he went abroad, he 
 could have got on very well without them by just 
 beckoning with his little finger. It used to make 
 Rachel almost cross sometimes to see the time her 
 father would often spend, listening to petitions and 
 emptying his purse ; because she was no less con- 
 vinced than was Faith that he was woefully imposed 
 on. But, as it was " such a pleasure to him," they 
 said nothing. The money he gave away annually 
 to the crowds that worshipped him in Shiphampton 
 and about, would have sufficiently made a golden 
 idol of him without the personal interest he took in 
 its distribution ; preferring always, where it was 
 possible, to be his own almoner, which so greatly 
 enhanced its value. Mr. Lyons would do nothing by 
 deputy that he could do himself ; it involved consi- 
 derable trouble ; but repaid him handsomely, as was 
 evidenced wherever he went. 
 
 Still, Rachel thought he occasionally carried his 
 sympathies for the people rather too far ; notwith- 
 standing the grave discourses she and Miss Falcon- 
 bridge often had together about the meaning of true
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABE GOVERNESS. 229 
 
 charity, which was " not putting little fingers into 
 little purses whenever came a call on them, good or 
 bad ; but only giving when and where what she gave 
 profited as well as pleased." In truth, Rachel's 
 heart was touched by a piteous tale and plaintive 
 looks as quickly as any one's ; still, she was of opi- 
 nion that " dear papa occasionally troubled himself 
 over much with what there was no need for him to 
 so vex himself about." For, now, there was not 
 the slightest noise or disturbance out of doors, but 
 he could have no rest till it was inquired into, and 
 he knew all about it ; when it had no more to do 
 with him, or any of them, in Greystone House than 
 the cockatoo. It was very silly of dear papa \" 
 
 He smiled at her playful chidings ; and when the 
 hubbub was over that had called him to the window, 
 with always a shade paler cheek than he wore 
 the moment before, he would take her on his knee 
 and press his lips to her forehead, and smooth down 
 her hair in the way he liked to see it, and seem 
 quite relieved when Faith came to say that " it was 
 only a drunken brawl, or some poor wretch being 
 dragged by the police to the lock-up." 
 
 " Papa, dear," Rachel would say, with an arm 
 round his neck, " why do you concern yourself so 
 about those rude, riotous peonle ? You feel for
 
 230 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 them too much. I mean, a great deal more than 
 many of them deserve. You don't know how bad, 
 and sly, and selfish some of them are. Faith says 
 they would as soon hiss and hoot you to-morrow as 
 not, if you could give them no more." 
 
 " True. But I can, you see. So they don't 
 do it." 
 
 " Oh, papa, what a way to talk !" 
 
 " A very wise one, I think." 
 
 tc What — that such homage as theirs is worth 
 having V 9 
 
 " Who talked of homage V 9 
 
 " If you care nothing for it, papa, why take th 
 pains you do for them V 9 
 
 " If little girls talk of what they don't uncle: 
 stand — how then V 9 
 
 ' ' Then," with a kiss, " if you mean I am a lit 
 girl, I would have you to understand I am not ! 
 shall be fourteen soon !" 
 
 "When I must please you all, I suppose, ai 
 have a juvenile party for my little lady ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, do, papa ! Won't you ?" 
 
 " I thought you cared nothing for parties ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do now ! Miss Falconbridge says it 
 quite right ! She says I must go out more thai 
 I have done ; that it isn't good for me to love staying
 
 AN UNEXCEPTIONABLE GOVERNESS. 231 
 
 at home so. Though I am sure I shall never 
 be happy any where else. Oh, papa ! what a differ- 
 ent home, isn't it, to what we thought it would be 
 that day you first took me to see it, outside, from 
 the road there ? You can't think how cold it 
 turned me ! I cried about it all night. I couldn't 
 help it. It did look such a dreadful place ! And 
 now it's so beautiful ! But, papa dear." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " You will let us have a dance, won't you ? I told 
 Jane Rosse I would ask you. It would make us all 
 so gay." 
 
 " Are you so sad, then ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! But — but — Miss Falconbridge has 
 made up her mind that you will ; and is going to tell 
 you what she thinks I had better wear. She would 
 like me and Jane to be dressed alike. Say yes, 
 there's a dear papa !" 
 
 He kissed it on her upturned cheek, if he did not 
 say it ; and famous news it was for them all when 
 Jane Rosse came next day, and went scampering 
 all over the house with it like a mad girl.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IN WHICH MISS JANE ACTS THE PART OF A LITTLE 
 "WITCH," TO FRIGHTEN RACHEL; AND GETS 
 DEAR PAPA FAMOUSLY BANTERED BY THEM, IN 
 CONSEQUENCE. 
 
 The fact is, in reconstructing Greystone House, 
 Mr. Lyons had made it too large for a small family 
 like his was. It wanted a large family to fill it. 
 There was a hollow sound in it, and " quite an 
 echo," they said, if you stood on the up -stairs land- 
 ing, and any one was talking or walking in the hall. 
 Indeed, so curiously distinct was it, when the wind 
 blew from the water, that Miss Jane and Miss 
 Rachel would send each other up and down, for the 
 fun of holding sepulchral conversations together in 
 as ghost-like voices as possible ; till scared out of 
 their wits by it, away they would race back to Faith, 
 or Miss Falconbridge, if she happened to be in a fit-
 
 C<TTTTm^T, » 
 
 LITTLE " WITCH. 233 
 
 ting mood, and stoutly stick to it that " the house 
 was haunted." 
 
 They knew better than to run to " dear papa " 
 with their " rubbish ," after the trouncings they had 
 got more than once, when, at first, they used to rush 
 in to him with their pale faces, and hardly able to 
 articulate with the fright they were in. 
 
 " Humph I" he would say, looking up from the 
 paper or book he was reading, and stamping his 
 foot — "nonsense ! — rubbish ! — get away with you !" 
 
 It set Miss Jane " scampering for her life ;" but 
 once Rachel stood firm for a moment, with the door 
 a-jar, for a precipitate escape in case of need. 
 
 "Go! go!" stamped her father; "or I'll 
 ghost you both presently." 
 
 " If you doubt it, dear papa," parlied Rachel, 
 " come and listen." 
 
 "Get along with you !" 
 
 " Do papa, dear ! just for once." 
 
 He stared hard at her ; but she kept her ground. 
 Evidently she was flesh and blood of his^own ; and 
 for half a minute he seemed as if he had forgotten 
 all about the ghost, in his mingled surprise and 
 admiration at her firmness. 
 
 It gave her courage. 
 
 " It won't hinder you three minutes, papa dear,
 
 234 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 she continued, "to come upon the top-landing; and 
 I'll shew you where to stand. Why won't you ? 
 Do, papa !" 
 
 He did. He could give no reason why he should 
 not. So passively following the pretty mulberry- 
 spotted muslin frock that went before him upstairs, 
 there they were, in a minute, on the top-landing, 
 looking wistfully at each other, waiting for Jane. 
 But Miss Jane came not. 
 
 (t You frightened her back to Faith," explained 
 Rachel ; " you stamped so hard at us. Never mind ! 
 Stay quiet till the wind gets up again, and then you 
 will hear it. Hark !" 
 
 There was an indistinct, creeping sound, as the 
 wind whistled and moaned along the passage where 
 they were standing; but it died away the next 
 moment; and though it was not long after sunset, 
 the house was as still and noiseless as though it had 
 been midnight. 
 
 " Not a very polite ghost," smiled Mr. Lyons, 
 " to keep us waiting." 
 " Have patience," advised Rachel. 
 There was no help for it ; and " dear papa " stea- 
 died himself by grasping the mahogany baluster 
 and looking down into the hall, as he was told 
 to do.
 
 235 
 
 But the wind whistled and moaned no more ; 
 there was a dead calm, as if on purpose to disappoint 
 them. 
 
 " How provoking ! " said Rachel. 
 
 But Mr. Lyons was in no hurry. His gaze was 
 now on the beautiful painted passage-window facing 
 him, there placed by Tristram Balfour, to please 
 Aunt Joyce, who was a great lover of stained glass 
 with scripture stories on it, and saints and angels. 
 The day was fast declining ; but it was a brilliant, 
 glowing evening, and enough light was yet on the 
 window to show its masterly character, and the high 
 finish of its several clever designs to represent the 
 human figure with more fidelity and effect than 
 is customary with works of that class. One face in 
 particular was especially excellent, that of a kneeling 
 woman at the feet of the Virgin Mother ; the strong 
 resemblance of the features and expression of which 
 to Ann Balfour's, when she was Ann Boys, was its 
 chief charm in Aunt Joyce's eyes. It was a striking 
 likeness of poor Ann ; and, doubtless, so struck Mr. 
 Lyons more forcibly than ever that evening, brought 
 face to face with him as it thus was, with just 
 the sombred light on it to display it well. 
 
 But Rachel's thoughts were most on " How pro- 
 voking it was that the wind had ceased when
 
 236 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 only five minutes before it sighed and moaned 
 so, it was piteous to hear it." And her mind's eye 
 was vaguely wandering from " the ghost " to " what 
 a dreadful end it was for poor Ann Balfour to come 
 to !" when clutching her father by the arm — 
 " Hark " she said, sinking her voice almost to a 
 whisper, as a passing dark cloud gradually veiled 
 poor Ann's placid face from their gaze, — simul- 
 taneously with which — as the wind whistled again 
 up the stair-case — distinctly as living lips could 
 have uttered them, to be audible — 
 
 " Speak, sister, speak ! Is the deed done?" asked 
 a strange, melancholy voice from below ; and up it 
 came echoing to the roof — "Is the deed done? — 
 done ? — done ?" till even Angelo Lyons' philosophy 
 was no match for it, to judge by his livid cheeks for 
 an instant or two ; though, while going down again, 
 he made fine fun of it, and of how, when he 
 caught that audacious Miss Jane, he would "teach 
 her to read Shakspeare somewhat better than 
 that," 
 
 It got Miss Jane a sound lecture from Faith, 
 on the " bad taste " she had shewn in treating so 
 serious, so solemn a subject with levity. " It was 
 not well done of you," said Faith j " it was very 
 unseemly, very indecorous, Miss Jane."
 
 LITTLE "WITCH." 237 
 
 Miss Jane hung her head. 
 
 " Yes, I know it was wrong," she granted; " but 
 I couldn't help it. We had been reading Macbeth, 
 you know, and the Witch's speech occurred to me 
 all of a moment when I saw them from the drawing- 
 room going up-stairs. It was to frighten Rachel. 
 Hadn't we been talking of ghosts ?" 
 
 "At all events," put in Rachel, "dear papa 
 turned as pale as ashes ; so it is no use for him to 
 say he don't believe in them;" and famously the 
 girls bantered him for it. 
 
 Irreligious persons are usually superstitious; 
 and so was Angelo Lyons. It would have curled 
 his lip if you had told him so ; because it 
 would have amused him to see you gave him credit 
 for any religion at all. Of religious scruples or any 
 unnecessary fears, in consequence, he had none ; for 
 this " rite," or for that " practice," he cared not a 
 straw; for "over-accuracies," or "timid doubts," 
 or "blind beliefs," he had only smiles and pity; 
 and at the idea of morality having anything to do 
 with the soul's salvation, he laughed outright — so 
 how could he be superstitious ? 
 
 He was very much so, nevertheless, as will be seen 
 before the close of the story ; he was so from his 
 birth ; his parents were so before him ; it was in his
 
 238 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 blood and bone as well as theirs ; he had sucked it 
 in with his mother's milk ; and up to manhood had 
 been nursed and nurtured in the very lap of it, or 
 he had been no West Indian. His great-great- 
 grandmother was all but a pure African ; after which 
 the native blood was largely purified ; till it became 
 quite pure with the birth of Angelo ; though of that 
 almost gipsy-caste which favoured the belief that 
 Mr. Angelo Lyons had Spanish blood in him, which 
 he never troubled himself to contradict, if he heard 
 it said of him. His features also were rather Spanish 
 or Italian, than English ; and there had been known 
 times when so terrible had been his temper in To- 
 bago and Trinidad, when enraged, that it was difficult 
 to suppose he had any but the savagest African blood 
 in him, when roused. 
 
 If the African negroes were " devoid of all natural 
 religion/' in Mr. Lyons' forefathers' times, as some 
 assert, unquestionably all or nearly all of them in 
 the West Indies believed in a Supreme Being. All 
 trustworthy accounts of them place this beyond a 
 doubt. Nay, they also admitted the existence of an 
 Evil Principle ; they had the fear of a hell where 
 " bad negroes would be punished," they would tell 
 the missionaries, to wheedle them over; " and surely," 
 as an able writer on Jamaica says, " they co\ ] 1 iot
 
 LITTLE " WITCH." 239 
 
 be afraid of duppies (or ghosts) without some idea of 
 a future state V s Indeed nothing is more firmly 
 impressed upon the mind of the African negroes, 
 than that, " after death, they shall go back to Africa, 
 and pass an eternity in revelling and feasting with 
 their ancestors." This seems proof enough of their 
 belief in a life to come. 
 
 Clearly, the great fear of ghosts in the minds of 
 the African negroes proves their faith in a state 
 beyond the present. They hold the duppies, as 
 they call the spirits in existence after the dissolution 
 of the body, in much terror, and firmly believe in 
 their power to haunt, and, if with cause of wrath 
 against them, to do them all kinds of harm. So 
 strong indeed is this belief, that, though they will 
 willingly bury their departed friends, as we are 
 told, in their gardens, " they would not eat of the 
 fruit of the earth that had covered the corpse of an 
 enemy ; for, if they did, it would be at the risk of their 
 being struck down by his duppy. It is only the 
 ghosts of their enemies they have to guard against, 
 or of those they have injured in any way, and whose 
 vengeance they consequently dread." 
 
 In his infidel moods Mr. Angelo Lyons would 
 have persuaded his housekeeper, Faith Lincoln, if 
 he could, that he had no fviar of futurity ; but she
 
 240 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 knew him too well to believe it. The very pains he 
 took to convince her of his sincerity disproved it ; 
 and she could not but listen with more interest 
 than she chose to show any one to the fun Miss 
 Rachel and Miss Jane had together about those 
 " ashy-pale cheeks of dear papa's, at the sound of the 
 "Witch's voice echoing up the stairs in that awful 
 manner !" It confirmed Faith not only in the 
 opinion she had always entertained of "how Mr. 
 Lyons belied his nature by his professed unbelief/' 
 but satisfied her that he had a profounder motive for 
 so acting than met the eye. Which was the same 
 thing with Faith Lincoln as a self confession that 
 " if she were ever to know him as thoroughly as she 
 wished to do, she had yet to plumb that ' deep, dark 
 mind of his,' " as poor Aunt Joyce called it to her 
 niece Ann on the night of their murder, " a good 
 deal deeper than she had yet done, with all her 
 knowledge of him." 
 
 The more Faith thought of it, the more certain 
 she felt that Mr. Lyons was acting a part, in thus 
 assuming an indifference to ordinary opinions and 
 impressions, in things appertaining to his peace, so 
 contrary to his nature. And which, therefore, as 
 towards her, were vexatious and but small evidence 
 of the one mind between them which she had built
 
 WITCH." 241 
 
 more secret hopes on, perhaps, than she told any 
 heart but her own. Yes, and if her surmises were 
 correct, she "owed it to herself," she mentally- 
 resolved, "to clear up some other doubts that 
 strangely clashed with certain bright visions that 
 had dazzled her till he became the rich man he was ; 
 since when it seemed his chief aim to be as dark 
 and mysterious towards her as before he was all 
 candour and confidence." 
 
 True, looking at him from the point of view Faith 
 did, possibly she attached more weight than she 
 otherwise would have done to those capricious 
 crotchets of a mind which she well knew had marked 
 Angelo Lyons from boyhood, as one who, as he 
 himself acknowledged, " obeyed the ruling motive, 
 whether it helped him or not." So really there 
 seemed little necessity for troubling herself about 
 those gloomy moods of his, which were apparently 
 gone in a moment at sight of his child, or if he 
 heard her approaching step, or her voice calling him. 
 Which shewed that if he " obeyed the ruling motive" 
 in one respect, it had no less power to chase the 
 clouds from his brow than to call them there. 
 
 Nor would Faith have troubled about them as 
 much as she did, but for the simple reason that she 
 was a woman, and, where her heart was fixed, a true 
 
 VOL. T. 16
 
 242 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 and fond and faithful one, however circumstances 
 forbade her to avow it. From which it followed 
 that she had her secret hopes, and doubts, and fears, 
 far more of herself perhaps than of him, whom she 
 loved with a passion none the less intense and 
 unchangeable because it seemed madness in her to 
 indulge it. Mixed up with which there might have 
 been, naturally enough, some little jealousies, when 
 she saw how he was courted and caressed, and knew T 
 for certain of more than one nobly-born young lady 
 ready and willing to forego their claims to a coronet, 
 to share the splendid fortunes of Mr. Angelo Lyons. 
 Yes, and now there was Miss Florence Falconbridge 
 also in every one's mouth, who " really was an 
 exceedingly superior person ; and though not to be 
 compared, for beauty, with either Miss ThornhiH 
 or Lady Ada Chilvers — of whom more anon — was a 
 great favourite of Mr. Lyons, and deserved to be 
 
 BO." 
 
 Altogether, Faith had enough to perplex her, 
 notwithstanding the life in "clover" that people 
 said she lived in Greystone House. If Faith Lincoln 
 had no fear of ghosts and goblins, she had her 
 "skeleton in the closet" as well as others, though 
 to all appearances she was without a care. 
 
 That Mr. Lyons still regarded her with warmer
 
 243 
 
 interest than he felt for any other woman, Faith 
 could see ; also how necessary she was to his comfort, 
 and with what marked deference he usually treated 
 her; but she could not blind herself to the fact 
 that "he was less easy and unrestrained towards 
 her since he became a rich man ; than he was, in 
 other words, before the Balfour wealth changed him 
 so much." Could she have attributed his altered 
 manner to any diminution of his long-felt interest in 
 her, or to a wish to gradually establish such an 
 understanding between them as would leave him 
 free to treat her simply and solely as his house, 
 keeper, in the event of its pleasing him to crush for 
 ever any tenderer hope she might have once indulged, 
 she could have understood it. But it was not so. 
 And it was a riddle in Angelo Lyons's conduct that 
 puzzled Faith more to solve than any eccentricity of 
 his that had ever baffled her. Her society, when he 
 was at home alone, seemed to be more necessary to 
 him than ever ; yet his eyes would fall under hers, 
 and he would snap her up, and sometimes be quite 
 sharp with her, and while he appeared to wish her 
 to keep her seat and go on talking with him, pace 
 the room restlessly up and down as if her presence 
 wearied him. But if she offered to rise, his kind 
 manner would return, and changing the conversation, 
 
 16-2
 
 244 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 he would be himself again, as of yore, and leave no 
 pains untried to please her. " What a strange man 
 he was ! " 
 
 And when he came home again after his grand 
 visits to the neighbouring rank and fashion, he 
 would tell her what he had seen or heard, and what 
 he thought of it all. And with so much, too, of his 
 old ease and openness, that it required little penetra- 
 tion to perceive that " if Faith Lincoln could never 
 be Mrs. Angelo Lyons, any one else seemed to know 
 who would be that enviable lady better than he did 
 himself." 
 
 So far Faith had nothing to complain of. She 
 was still his grand confidant. Nor could he ever 
 sit long alone without summoning her to him ; and 
 though he hardly talked at all himself, if not in the 
 mood, he would expect her to talk, and tell him the 
 gossip of the place as far as she could gather it for 
 him from one source or another. And when it 
 included what he ought to have known better than 
 any one else, but knew nothing of, viz., who was to 
 be the lucky mistress of Greystone House — Faith 
 Lincoln had studied that strange nature of Angelo 
 Lyons's to little purpose if the day had yet come 
 for her to abandon all personal hope, and resign 
 herself to despair.
 
 LITTLE " WITCH. " 245 
 
 But, withal, his manner was peculiar, very peculiar 
 sometimes, so much so that she almost doubted 
 whether he was quite in his right senses. He was 
 provoking, too. For it was impossible he could mean 
 what he said when those gloomy fits came over him ; 
 and then any one seemed to have more influence 
 with him than she had. He would laugh her to 
 scorn if she remonstrated with him for his dangerous 
 doctrines ; but was awed by Miss Falconbridge, and 
 sat under her lectures with his eyes thoughtfully 
 fixed on his hands and without scarcely opening his 
 mouth. Why was that ? 
 
 "Yes, why?" Faith would keep repeating to 
 herself, after Florence Falconbridge had been induced 
 to speak her mind freely to Mr. Lyons in con- 
 sequence of some unguarded expression he had let 
 drop, in the hearing of her pupil, which she felt it 
 her duty to disapprove of, — " why does he wince so 
 under Miss Falconbridge's frown ? However angry 
 with him and in earnest I may be, it only makes 
 him smile ; but he listens to what she says, as if, 
 differ with her how he may, he is careful not to hurt 
 her feelings. He is very considerate for her ! " 
 
 Yes, and it was his duty to be so, for reasons that 
 Faith perfectly well understood ; however she let a 
 little jealousy get the better of her at times when she
 
 246 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 could work herself up in no other way to the pitch 
 necessary for what she wanted — which was such a 
 certainty, in her own mind, of Angelo Lyons's having 
 a deeper motive for his peculiar manner towards her 
 than he chose to disclose, whereby to justify her in 
 never resting satisfied till she discovered what it was, 
 be the consequences to herself what they might. 
 
 " His manner is not the same to me that it used 
 to be," she said mentally; "and why? I must 
 know. I will know \" and where Faith Lincoln said 
 Twill — there was African blood in her veins as well 
 as in Angelo Lyons's ; neither of whom ever said 
 / will, without meaning it. 
 
 Faith also listened with more anxiety to Miss 
 Rachel and Miss Jane's " fun and nonsense " about 
 ■' dear papa's pale cheeks," when the little " Witch" 
 whispered, loud enough to be heard in the gallery 
 up- stairs — 
 
 " Speak, sister, speak ! Is the deed done ? " 
 than she let them suppose. The incident, in itself, 
 was trifling enough ; but it somehow interested 
 Faith not a little, notwithstanding she took Miss 
 Jane so severely to task for it. It seemed to so 
 corroborate what she always insisted on, viz., that 
 Mr. Lyons's feigned disbelief in a future state, — his 
 creed being, according to his own shewing, what is
 
 LITTLE " WITCH." 247 
 
 to be will be, — was assumed for a purpose ; or why, 
 if so superior to ordinary emotions that death had 
 no fears for him, did he change colour at anything 
 so palpably self-evident as must have been Miss 
 Jane's wicked little ' Witch's' voice in the hall ? 
 'Every drop of blood left his face,' they said; and 
 Miss Rachel declared "his lips trembled, going 
 down stairs, while he was ridiculing her for being 
 such a coward." 
 
 Faith dwelt a good deal on it, as so confirming 
 her opinion of the studied part he played when 
 demolishing at a blow all moral responsibilities, and 
 cares and concerns for the future, with his sweeping 
 fatalisms. He was evidently acting a part, and 
 belying himself : — 
 
 " Did he ever go to such dreadful lengths," she 
 asked herself, "till he became a rich man ? From 
 boyhood he was always queer- principled and perverse; 
 but never, while his success in life depended on the 
 character he bore, dared he give utterance, even to 
 me, to the shocking things he now says without a 
 blush. What is it has changed him so ? Why 
 fight, in spirit, so against himself, torturing him as 
 it does ? It must torture him ? I have eyes. How 
 thin and care-worn he looks, with all his wealth ; 
 how different to what he was in Trinidad. He has
 
 248 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 riches in plenty — but is he happy ? He has an 
 income of Twelve Thousand a-year — but is he happ} ? 
 He is immensely popular — but is he happy ? He 
 says he has no fears for the future — but is he happy? 
 And the present is a series of continuous golden- 
 dreams fulfilled — but is he happy? If not, why 
 not ? Has it aught to do with his changed manner ? 
 I must know — I will know, come what may of it ;" 
 and the resolution taken, was not likely to be lightly 
 abandoned by Faith Lincoln.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN WHICH LADY ADA CHILVERS IS FLUSHED WITH 
 THE HOPE OF MAKING A CONVERT. 
 
 Twelve thousand a-year is tolerably certain of a 
 good visiting list. Even without a tithe of Angelo 
 Lyons, Esquire's popularity, whose fault but its own 
 is it if an income like that must pay for its dinner 
 every day of the week ? It often curled Mr. Lyons's 
 lip when Rachel made him look over the card -basket 
 with her; but remembering his promise to her 
 mother, he smiled at the many friends he had, and 
 held his peace. 
 
 It rejoiced Rachel to count the daily cards and 
 notes on the hall-table ; because they were so many 
 proofs to her of " how much her father was loved/' 
 And Miss Falconbridge never offered an objection to 
 it; as inspect Miss Rachel's " arrangements" of 
 their numerous visitors when she would, as often as
 
 250 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 not the Browns, Joneses, and Robinsons were con- 
 spicuous at the top of the heaps, and my Lords and 
 my Ladies, &c, &c, at the bottom. Yet, people called 
 Florence Falconbridge proud. And so she was ; but 
 not of seeing her pupil sillily displaying, for effect's 
 sake, those among their many friends who possibly 
 cared the least for them. 
 
 One special name, however, Rachel insisted on 
 always having well in sight, add as many others as 
 she might to it, and that was a great favourite of hers 
 — Lady Ada Chilvers. She liked the Thornhills, of 
 Buck Park, and good Mr. and Mrs. Rosse, the vicar 
 and his excellent wife, and Doctor Budge, their phy- 
 sician, and Mr. Salisbury their lawyer, with many 
 others who shared her regard ; but she loved Lady 
 Ada. Was it that Lady Ada Chilvers loved her ? 
 It has a wonderful effect on young hearts — that 
 tender leaning towards them of the hearts of their 
 elders. From the first moment Rachel saw Lady 
 Ada, she felt drawn to her — felt " sure she should 
 love her." It was at an evening party, and she 
 could not take her eyes off her, — " Lady Ada was so 
 like the portrait of her poor, dear, darling mamma 
 in the boudoir at home, over her piano." 
 
 Her papa smiled when she edged herself in be- 
 tween him and the Squire, to whom he was talking,
 
 LADY ADA CH1LVERS. 251 
 
 and whispered in his ear " How beautiful Lady 
 Ada is ! how like dear mamma !" 
 
 It was a strange fancy of RachePs ; for no two 
 faces, looking at the features, could be more dissimi- 
 lar. True, they were both blondes, with blue eyes 
 and pale golden hair, and there was some resemblance 
 in their figures and deportment ; but, otherwise, her 
 papa could see no likeness to her mother, though he 
 granted Lady Ada was " very pleasing mannered." 
 
 And this was the secret of it all. The " pleasing 
 manners" were so like what she remembered of 
 " poor, dear, darling mamma," and imparted so 
 exact a resemblance to the expression in the portrait, 
 ever uppermost in Rachel's mind — an expression of 
 almost painful pensiveness, notwithstanding its ex- 
 ceeding loveliness, — that she saw nothing else but 
 that Lady Ada was the image of her mother, and 
 therefore " how beautiful she was ! how dearly she 
 should love her \" 
 
 Of course it soon reached that sweet, amiable, 
 lady — whose beautiful blue eyes, like her own, were 
 fondly following her everywhere ; and of course it 
 was not long before Miss Lyons learnt "how proud 
 and pleased Lady Ada was to return love for love 
 with one she felt she could esteem as much as 
 Rachel Lyons."
 
 252 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Lady Ada Chilvers was a widow, still in mourning, 
 though Lord Cecil had been dead two years. He 
 lost his life in a duel abroad, brought about by a 
 quarrel with a Belgian officer of the line, who was 
 rude to his wife on the parade. Lord Cecil Chilvers 
 was a loving, indulgent husband, and his loss was a 
 bitter blow to his widow. For though he was heed- 
 less and extravagant, he was ever kind to her and 
 devotedly attached, which went far perhaps to blind 
 her to his faults ; and it was a constant source of 
 grief to her, when he was gone, thinking of " how 
 she might have had him by her side, if she had 
 been as wise as she then was — when it was too 
 late." 
 
 It was the thought ever uppermost with Lady 
 Ada, and imparted that air of deep pensiveness to 
 her face which so won RachePs sympathies when she 
 first saw her. It was her " own poor, dear, darling 
 mamma's pensive expression exactly," to Rachel's 
 eyes ; and really was not unlike it. 
 
 It seemed to engage Mr. Lyons less than it did 
 Rachel ; though he was much struck with the 
 " pleasing manners," as he called them, of the in- 
 teresting widow, and glad to see his daughter re- 
 ceived so warmly by her. It was a fine thing to be a 
 favourite of Lady' Ada Chilvers ; for, though poor for
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 253 
 
 her position, rank went a great way in Shiphampton, 
 and the Chilvers, of that ilk, drew their lordly blood 
 from Earls and Countesses. 
 
 Lady Thornhill, of Buck Park, and Lady Ada were 
 sisters — Ada Chilvers being Adelaide ThornhilPs 
 junior by ten years. As sisters, they loved each other 
 fondly. But Sir Compton Thornhill was always a 
 little jealous of the better blood of his lordly brother- 
 in-law ; and though the wives " would have nothing 
 to do with their husband's silly piques on that score," 
 of course Lady Thornhill was Lady Adelaide, and 
 Lady Chilvers was Lady Ada ; against either of whom 
 never was there a word breathed by their lords and 
 masters, impugning their wifely allegiance, whatever 
 else was laid to their charge. Lord Cecil, too, 
 had but his Captain's pay when he married Ada 
 Belmore, in addition to the two hundred pounds a- 
 year 'hat came to him at his mother's death ; 
 whereas, when Sir Compton Thornhill made Adelaide 
 Belmore his wife, the Buck Park estate, &c, yielded 
 him a rent-roll of not less than Seven Thousand per 
 annum. Still, Lord Cecil was a lord, and Sir Compton 
 was a baronet ; and if Lady Ada said, with a pro- 
 found courtesy, " your most obedient I" to Lady 
 Adelaide, no doubt she had her indemnification for it 
 when she told her husband how " immensely superior
 
 254 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 the Thornhills were to the Chilvers's, and how much 
 she envied them." 
 
 If Lady Ada Chilvers was poor,as a wife, she was still 
 poorer, as a widow ; for, somehow, the little fortune 
 Lord Cecil inherited from his grandfather had pretty- 
 well taken into itself those wings for which easy-got 
 fortunes are famous, some time before his death. 
 Whereby all of this world's wealth that Ada Chilvers 
 had to show against her rich sister Adelaide Thorn- 
 hill's grandeur, was her widow's pension, and the 
 Ten Thousand Pounds, consols, secured to her by her 
 marriage settlement. 
 
 It was enough, if she would make it so. And the 
 better so to do, she became her sister's near neigh- 
 bour at The Priory, as it was called, a pretty gothic 
 cottage of Sir Conipton's, not ten minutes' walk from 
 Buck Park ; and not a little proud was the pleasant 
 rural village of Buck of its good fortune. Very 
 proud, too, was Sir Compton Thornhill of his tenant. 
 It was more than he had reckoned on ; he had never 
 dreamed of such an event as a Hampshire Chilvers 
 renting under a Hampshire Thornhill. But so it 
 was ; and the jovial Baronet went about whistling 
 and rubbing his hands to the tune of it, as gay as if 
 he had got an addition to his rent-roll of five hun- 
 dred a-year, instead of fifty pounds only.
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 255 
 
 Lady Ada was well content to hear from Lady 
 Adelaide, her sister, how "mightily pleased 5 ' Sir 
 Compton was; and setting to work, soon made 
 her pretty cot " quite a little palace," the people 
 said. 
 
 Lady Ada, though she married an officer in the 
 Guards, loved a peaceful life ; Lady Adelaide, though 
 wedded to a country squire, enjoyed the four months 
 she annually spent in London more than any others. 
 It by no means lessened their sisterly affection for 
 each other; though it was easy to see they would 
 have delighted in each other none the less had they 
 thought and felt more alike and acted more in con- 
 cert. Neither of them partook of their husbands' 
 dispositions. Sir Compton Thornhill, though no 
 money was too much for a coveted hunter, or race- 
 horse, or pack of fox-hounds, was, at heart, a mean 
 man ; whereas Lady Thornhill found no pride or 
 pleasure on the turf, or in the stables, or kennels, but 
 had the character of being " as good-hearted a lady 
 as was to be fouud in the county/ 5 It was just the 
 reverse with Lord Cecil and Lady Ada — the money 
 flew no one could tell where in Lord Cecil's hands . 
 whereas, in Lady Ada's possession, there it re- 
 mained safe till it was wanted, which she used smil- 
 ingly to assure her heedless, extravagant husband
 
 256 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " it would be sure to be if she kept it long enough." 
 Wherefore there were some who called Lady Ada 
 over-careful, and not to be compared, for liberality, 
 with her sister Lady Adelaide. 
 
 But these superficial surface-seers knew little of 
 Ada Chilvers. By nature she was prudent rather 
 than profuse, and her lavish husband's constant want 
 of money had greatly increased the necessity, as she 
 felt it, on her part, to assist him as little as possible 
 in squandering what they had. Lord Cecil himself 
 never called her a worse name than his " treasure of 
 treasures," when she handed him what he wanted ; 
 and his " shocking bad stewardess," when, alas ! 
 she could not. He would have died deeper in debt 
 than he did, but for the " over-carefulness" of his 
 provident wife. As it was, it had cost her many 
 privations to rescue his memory from reproach ; but 
 "not a farthing too much," she declared, "if it 
 taught her the real value of enough when she had it, 
 however ' impossible* it seemed to her graud kinsfolk 
 at Buck Park for the daughter-in-law of a Peer of 
 the realm to live, as a titled Lady ought, on three 
 hundred a-year." 
 
 In society Lady Adelaide was called " a splendid 
 woman," Lady Ada "a charming one; 5 -' and Sir 
 Compton knew very well which of the two terms tin-
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 257 
 
 kled sweeter in his ear. He attached little consequence 
 to simple charms ; but splendour in any shape made 
 his eyes dance. He revelled in it. " That splendid 
 creature !" was how he talked of Adelaide Belmore 
 while he was gaining her heart ; and now everything 
 he particularly fancied partook of the same sumptu- 
 ous quality — his wife was 'splendid/ his house was 
 ( splendid/ his horses were f splendid/ his hounds 
 were ( splendid/ his double-barrelled Purdey was a 
 1 splendid' one, and l what splendid ears !' was his 
 exclamation whenever Clara ThornhiU's lap-dog 
 Monkey jumped on his knees. So no wonder that 
 Lady Ada's unpretending merits fell short of 
 the mark up at Buck Park, side by side with her 
 f splendid' sister's; though every one granted how 
 ' charming' she was, and "how gracefully she sup- 
 ported, with her slender income, the high rank she 
 held in the county, in right of her husband." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's true!" Sir Compton would 
 readily allow when it was talked about in his hearing, 
 " keeps it up splendidly ! By Jove ! yes, she does, 
 splendidly \" But though he said it with flashing 
 eyes, at the thought of the ' Peer of the realm/ it 
 was never the subject that put him in the best key 
 with himself; notwithstanding the evident satisfaction 
 he felt in the peer's daughter-in-law being his tenant 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 as she was, and likely to remain so for aught he 
 could see ; for the ' Peer of the realm' was poor, 
 with two sons and three daughters to think for, and 
 nephews and nieces unnumbered. 
 
 " Hem !" observed Mr. Lyons to Lady Thomhill, 
 on his first presentation to Lady Ada Chilvers, when 
 he heard of the good she did in the village with 
 such slender means; "very noble minded; yes, 
 very ! Will be better off no doubt at the old Earl's 
 death ?" 
 
 "It is to be hoped so," responded Lady Adelaide, 
 gravely. " But what matters it, if she is happy ? 
 Content is bliss." 
 Mr. Lyons smiled. 
 
 "Ah, you believe in nothing of the sort ! You 
 are a sad sceptic. Don't you thiuk she is con- 
 tented ? You may tell me." 
 
 " She ought not to be, if she is." 
 " There's doctrine I" 
 
 " Quite sound. Her sphere of usefulness is 
 cramped by her poverty — do you suppose there are 
 no pangs in that to a mind like hers ?" 
 
 " There need not be any pang at all, there ought 
 not to be, if she does the best that she can." 
 " But there is." 
 " In the knowledge of duty fulfilled ?"
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 259 
 
 " Hem — I don't know whether you ever sat 
 down satisfied on that score; I know I never 
 did." 
 
 " If I do all I can, what more can I do ?" 
 
 " "Wish for what would enable you to do what 
 you can't, without it ; and which would make you 
 happier if you could." 
 
 " How do I know that ?" 
 
 "You think it would; you feel it would; you 
 believe it would — pretty strong testimony in its 
 favour ?" 
 
 " Yes, if it would make me happier. There's the 
 question." 
 
 ff Happier ! you to say that. Ah, you may smile ! 
 I mean what I say." 
 
 " Hem — it seems hard rather, don't it, to endow 
 the flesh with a soul ever yearning to do more good, 
 and refuse it the means ? Nature does strange 
 things. I am generous, and have nothing to give 
 — I am close-fisted, and have plenty to spare. It 
 was born with me, too. I was a large- souled baby, 
 a liberal boy, a youth full of kindly emotions— but 
 how fares it with me as a man? My noble soul — 
 what a boon ! But pray observe, too — I was a 
 narrow-minded baby, a mean boy, a selfish youth, 
 full of my own wishes alone, and ways— and what 
 
 17—2
 
 260 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 happens to me, as a man ? I am enriched, I am 
 honoured, I am ennobled, I am f onrted and caressed, 
 a god on earth in my own conceit. Oh, my mean 
 mind, what a boon ! Hem — sufficient source, either 
 way, for content, I suppose, looked at right ?" 
 
 "Fie! fie!" would Lady Adelaide reply; "you 
 must not talk so to Lady Ada, or woe betide you !" 
 
 But Angelo Lyons did so talk at the Priory as 
 well as at Buck Park ; and, moreover, with no worse 
 consequences to himself, in particular, than that sort 
 of ear being given him there which calmly listened 
 to his strange talk, because it was " so strange, and 
 so harmless." Because she " could have refuted it 
 all with a word/' Lady Ada let him run on. 
 Which greatly astonished her sister. Though it was 
 easily accounted for by Sir Compton, when he saw 
 " what a favourite Rachel Lyons was at the Priory, 
 and how much Lady Ada loved her." 
 
 Perhaps no event since he made Greystone House 
 his residence had gratified Mr. Lyons more than 
 Lady Ada Chilvers's fondness for his daughter. How- 
 ever it curled his lip to think of the endless friends 
 his wealth had brought him, nothing pleased him 
 better than to see Rachel admired and sought for. 
 He despised the world's heartlessness and hollow- 
 ness, but was keenly alive to its slightest neglect ;
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 261 
 
 he knew the worth of its bought smiles, but dreaded 
 its frowns j he scorned the pains it took to entertain 
 him, but took good care not to be overlooked. And 
 when it was told him on all sides how greatly his 
 child was esteemed, though he thought he knew the 
 worth of that also, what money could buy her to set 
 her off to the best advantage was bought, cost what 
 it would, and no eyes brightened more to see the 
 effects of it than Angelo Lyons's own. With all his 
 apparent apathy and indifference to ordinary emo- 
 tions, he was an epicure at heart. Nothing but 
 what was of the best and rarest would do for him. 
 He ransacked the " worthless world " for what he 
 wanted ; and found in it, too, with no small satisfac- 
 tion, to judge by the pains and money it cost him. 
 What he set his heart on he would have ; though 
 he said " there was nothing worth wishing for but 
 the ability to do without things, because you could 
 have them." He called that "the perfection of 
 power ;" but, nevertheless, collected about him all 
 that his heart desired. 
 
 Still, strange and mysterious as he was, there 
 were occasional indications in that deep, dark nature 
 of Angelo Lyons's of so seemingly unselfish a dis- 
 position, that Lady Ada would let him run on with 
 his ' peculiar notions,' and sit and listen to him
 
 202 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 with a vague interest she could only account for, 
 " because of the interest she felt in Rachel." He 
 was " so magnificent \" What he did, too, in the 
 way of charity, he did in such a noble manner ; there 
 was no show-off about him, it seemed such a genuine 
 pleasure to him to do good, for good's sake, wholly 
 apart from any personal advantage but what sprang 
 from the purest motives. Indeed, Lady Ada's com- 
 plaint was that "he did too much/' But when did 
 the discreetest of us lay that weakness to the charge 
 of another, but with more admiration than anger, 
 however much we might deem it our duty not to do 
 likewise ? 
 
 There is more or less interest in mysteriousness. 
 Not that there was any mystery about Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons in his daily talk and transactions with his 
 neighbours; for no man could be more open and 
 above board than he was out in the world, while 
 engaged in its duties. No plainer spoken person 
 was then to be found, nor a more frank or straight- 
 forward one. But Angelo Lyons in business, and 
 out of business, was not exactly the same individual, 
 Even to his housekeeper he was a mystery at times, 
 when, in the privacy of his house, he reversed the 
 usual mode of throwing off all disguises and being 
 natural and at ease. But then he was at no pains
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 263 
 
 to give even an air of interest to his " strangeness f 
 nay, made himself as disagreeable as possible; 
 whereas, when " amusing" Lady Ada with his 
 " peculiarities" at the Priory, he so mystified her, 
 that she was lost in wonder sometimes at the fertility 
 of his imagination, rather than inclined to dispute 
 with him. At first it " shocked her to hear him 
 talk as he did," and she stoutly maintained her 
 ground against " such doctrines ; 5 ' till finding him 
 " incorrigible," she would drop the long, dark eye- 
 lashes over her beautiful blue eyes, when he was 
 "running on with his rubbish," and go on with 
 what she was doing. As if time were too precious 
 to waste on " such nonsense ;" though if a word 
 escaped her that fell from his lips, notwithstanding 
 her indifference, Angelo Lyons was greatly mis- 
 taken. 
 
 Mr. Lyons could talk if he chose, and taik well. 
 Usually he cared to give his tongue no more trouble 
 than necessary, which by no means infers that his 
 ears and understanding were idle. And therein he 
 and his friend Sir Compton Thornhill differed con- 
 siderably ; for Sir Compton spoke a hundred times, 
 in company, to Angelo Lyons, Esqr/s once. But 
 then Sir Compton was an impatient listener, and 
 learnt little more than he taught ; whereas, Angelo
 
 264 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Lyons was picking up knowledge while Sir Compton 
 was always imparting it. So they got on very well 
 together j and Lady Ada could not but acknowledge 
 the compliment of that usually taciturn tongue 
 relaxing so with hers — the only ears, seemingly, it 
 cared to address with patience. 
 
 Lady Ada's eternal home was " built on a rock," 
 immovable, imperishable — Angelo Lyons' s hopes of 
 any other than what this world afforded him, " on 
 the sands," if he meant what he said. And, yet, 
 she sat and listened to him as if it mattered very 
 little how he talked, safe as she felt herself in her 
 " tower of strength against all assaults." Perhaps 
 it would have mattered, less had he not been as 
 fascinatingly handsome as he was. 
 
 Good looks lead many to church who would, 
 otherwise, not be there ; and they also invite the 
 eyes, if not the ears, of the gravest and sagest, who, 
 though they would be proof against Satan in his 
 native ugliness, had better be both blind and deaf 
 than give eye or heed to him, with his best face on. 
 Lady Ada Chilvers dropped her eyes on her work 
 while Angelo Lyons was " running on with his 
 strange talk" to her ; but would she have listened 
 to him for one minute if he had been ugly and poor? 
 He was very handsome and he was very rich ; and,
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 265 
 
 though she would not even notice him while he was 
 so disparaging himself in her estimation, she let him 
 talk on, when it would have been so easy for her to 
 have looked up and crushed him with a frown ; or if 
 that were impossible, to have changed the subject 
 and talked of the weather. 
 
 Not but that she sometimes could patiently listen 
 no longer ; and then unable to further control her- 
 self— 
 
 " I wonder what you would think of me," she 
 would ask him, with almost a derisive smile, " if I 
 argued with you ?" 
 
 "By which I am to understand — what V } was his 
 reply, as imperturbably as if his were the ' rock/ not 
 hers, to build on. 
 
 " Of course that I don't. And if I did, how you 
 would pity me !" 
 
 " As you would me, you mean, if you thought I 
 meant what I said ? ,J 
 
 " Indeed, yes.''' 
 
 " Despise me, perhaps V 
 
 " I said pity." 
 
 " Hem !"— and there he would stop, with his 
 fixed gaze on her ; as though, for some reason, glad 
 of the easy retreat it afforded him, however he 
 blushed at it.
 
 266 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 No doubt Lady Ada gave him credit for knowing 
 better than it pleased him to grant, and so was as 
 patient with him as she was; in the hope, perhaps, 
 that, thus treated, she would shame him out of his 
 absurdities better than by arguing with him, which 
 usually put her out of temper, and gave him the 
 advantage over her. Or it might be that she fancied 
 she saw in him qualities of heart as well as of mind 
 to be turned to good account by right handling. 
 That he could be liberal to munificence, every day 
 proved ; also that his heart was susceptible of strong 
 affection was verified by his love for his child ; also 
 his steady business habits and signal successes bore 
 ample evidence that he had no lack of common 
 sense. Wherefore, " what a pity it was he should 
 let such pernicious things enter his head ! — what a 
 much happier man he would have been if he had 
 had a good, fond, firm, sensible wife to rule him, and 
 rout all such ridiculous rubbish out of him, which, 
 done wisely, w r ould have been easy enough." 
 
 So Lady Ada thought ; and the one sole motive for 
 it did her genuine affection for Rachel credit. But 
 such concern for the father was perilous, if she 
 meant to be true to her first impression, when she 
 found what an unbeliever he was, viz., that she 
 " would rather be wedded to a Christian hedger and
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 267 
 
 ditcher than be the wife of the richest and hand- 
 somest man on the earth, with no faith in anything 
 but his money." How many a woman has ended 
 in idolizing the creature, her only first interest in 
 whom was her zealous desire to worship and glorify 
 the Creator ! 
 
 From the day she first met and conversed with 
 Rachel, Lady Ada Chilvers regarded it as by' no means 
 the difficult task her sister, Lady Thornhill, said it 
 would be, to make a convert of Angelo Lyons. She 
 thought she saw in him anything but a stubborn 
 spirit; nay, she was sure that what she said to him 
 "had its impression, " and that he only wanted 
 right handling to scatter to the winds all his scep- 
 tical notions. Rachel's mother was an exemplary 
 woman, but too meek, too yielding, and utterly in- 
 capable of contending with a subtle spirit like his ; 
 and though Faith Lincoln, his housekeeper, had 
 superior powers of mind, it could scarcely be 
 expected that she would have much weight with 
 him in such matters, mixed up as she was in his 
 domestic affairs, and not a person, apparently, very 
 piously disposed. 
 
 It set Lady Ada thinking. And the more she 
 thought, the more she was convinced that it was the 
 duty of those who cared for his lovely child, if not
 
 268 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 for him, to leave do effort untried to win him from 
 his strange ways, which not only marred his own 
 happiness, but every one else's about him. For 
 Rachel made no secret of " how it pained her to hear 
 her father say things that she was sure he did not 
 mean ; but that when he was in those strange moods, 
 it was useless talking to him ; so she ran away from 
 him, for it frightened her so." 
 
 It was just what Lady Ada supposed. But run- 
 ning away from him would never mend matters. 
 Talking to him, as he ought to be talked to, might. It 
 would, if he could "only be brought to listen ;" and 
 glancing at herself in the glass, a momentary pale- 
 ness came over Lady Ada's fair complexion, and 
 then a little flush, while she arranged her hair in the 
 way Rachel said "her papa admired so the first 
 time he saw her at Buck Park ;" the one as well as 
 the other brought there perhaps by the thought of 
 " what a triumph it would be to make a convert of 
 Angelo Lyons.'"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GIVES AN INSTANCE OF LADY ADA CHILVERs's SUR- 
 PRISING KNOWLEDGE OF THE OLD MASTERS, 
 WHEREBY SHE MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE O 1 ? A 
 VERY INTERESTING YOUNG MAN. 
 
 The day drew near for the long talked of juvenile 
 party at Greystone House ; and the buzz and nutter 
 there was about it in Shiphampton sufficiently proved 
 that, however the good folks of that ancient borough 
 made business their sheet anchor, they could be led 
 away for a while by the tide of pleasure as well as 
 others, carry them where it might, and dance and 
 disport themselves on life's pleasant waters as gaily 
 as the gayest. 
 
 A large evening party of any description at the 
 late abode of the Balfours was sure to occasion con- 
 siderable excitement. It was the first time Mr. 
 Lyons had been induced to give a party since he
 
 270 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 had come to live in Shiphampton. He had enter- 
 tained a few of his most intimate friends at dinner, 
 "in a friendly way/' as people called it; but 
 it being now considered right by Lady Thornhill 
 and Miss Falconbridge that Miss Lyons should be 
 encouraged to collect about her more of her young 
 friends and acquaintances than she had hitherto 
 done, out of regard for her father's habits, he gave 
 them carte blanche for her next birthday, and any 
 amount they wanted he gave it eclat. 
 
 The town was astir in consequence; and the 
 jubilant faces of the invited, and the perturbed looks 
 of those who were not, contrasted amusingly for the 
 placid lookers on who had no hopes either way, and 
 exceedingly enjoyed it, of course. 
 
 But however much Mr. Lyons wished to do the 
 right thing in Shiphampton, as far as lay in his 
 power, he found it difficult to please everybody. 
 And his inability to give universal satisfaction was 
 not confined to the non-recipients of those elegant 
 little pink-scented notes, to be the enviable possessor 
 of one of which, at the memorable epoch under 
 notice, appeared, by the joy it diffused, to be some- 
 thing so indispensable, that one could feel for the 
 poignant distress of the disappointed, if their 
 misery were proportionately great. As many were
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 271 
 
 asked as could be asked ; also it was Mr. Lyons' s 
 desire that every branch of trade in Shiphampton 
 should benefit as much as possible by any outlays 
 on his part, which tended to circulate his money 
 among the minor tradespeople. There was no fear 
 of the large houses not reaping enough from his 
 extensive home and foreign shipping operations, &c, 
 &c. ; and it greatly rejoiced him when came an 
 opportunity to throw money into the smaller chan- 
 nels, his kindly eye for which, as well as the great 
 trunks wherefrom he drew such enormous sums, had 
 done so much to make him popular in the county 
 since he became a rich man. 
 
 But here again was painfully evidenced the im- 
 possibility of satisfying every one. After doing all he 
 could, it must have caused a seemingly noble nature 
 like Mr. Angelo Lyons's no little disquiet to know 
 how many of the humbler working classes in Ship- 
 hampton "never touched a half-penny of his 
 wealth." It was one of those inevitable things that 
 must be borne ; and Mr. Lyons bore it as best he 
 might ; but not without it occasionally reaching his 
 ears — how fortunate it was for him, as a philanthro- 
 pist, that he had plenty to give, if his popularity 
 sprang from that source, and his pride were in it. 
 
 As with other rising mercantile towns, Shiphamp-
 
 272 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 ton owed much of its opulence to brisk competition. 
 Old Shiphampton and New Shiphampton bore as 
 little practical resemblance to each other as exists 
 between free-trade and fettered. It was a wretched 
 rotten borough once, and was just beginning to 
 wake out of its long paralysing sleep of rusty, dusty, 
 musty, crusty old memories, when Mr. Lyons suc- 
 ceeded to the wealth of the Balfows. The fine old 
 borough was yawning and stretching itself, evidently 
 well pleased to find it was coming to life again, and 
 had such strength left for the new era opening for it, 
 if it would up, and throw off its shackles and com- 
 pete for the prizes. Its day was come — would it 
 seize the golden opportunity, or lose it for ever ? 
 
 " Seize it by all means I" cried Mr. Angelo 
 Lyons ; and what one pair of hands could do had 
 been done by him since he set foot in the town, to 
 make it second to no maritime port in England for 
 its East and West Indian relations. All admitted 
 it, all lauded him lustily for it; it was in every 
 one's mouth — to whom Shiphampton was principally 
 indebted for its wonderful rise from comparative 
 obscurity to a position that w T ould soon place it 
 amongst the noblest commercial cities. 
 
 But, withal, Angelo Lyons, Esq., had his de- 
 tractors as well as his admirers ; in other words, do
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 273 
 
 what he would, there was always somebody or some- 
 thing "none the better for it;" which would throw 
 him into fits of musing ; out of which Sir Compton 
 Thornhill would rouse him by declaring it was 
 "just the same" with him. 
 
 " By Heaven, sir, Fve been trying at it ever since 
 I came to Buck — to please them — and what's the 
 consequence ? Now I've left it off, to please myself 
 — not a grumble ! Cuss 'em ! it preyed on me so, 
 they set up shop on it. Probably you've remarked 
 how much haler and handsomer Fve got lately? 
 It's since I gave over caring a rap whether they 
 liked me or not, for what they got out of me. And 
 look at you ! There's a bag of bones ! Don't be 
 an ass." 
 
 " You certainly are looking very well," acquiesced 
 Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " But the bluff, blunt Baronet of Buck Park, and 
 Angelo Lyons, Esq., of Greystone House, were 
 very different persons. And though he granted 
 that Sir Compton "bore ample evidence in his im- 
 proved looks of the wisdom of his acts," Angelo 
 Lyons preferred being an ass : " Seeing," he said, 
 " how daily richer and richer he got by his bag of 
 bones ; while, with all his hale, handsome looks, 
 it would not be long, if report spoke true, before the 
 vol. i. 18
 
 274 ANGKLO LYONS. 
 
 jovial Baronet had to go again to the money lenders, 
 unless his turf-luck returned something considerable 
 into his pocket, instead of taking it out of it." 
 But, withal, as was just now observed, Mr. Lyons, 
 with the best intentions, could not please everybody. 
 It seems that, till Mr. Lyons's arrival in Ship- 
 hampton, the lighting and watering of the town 
 were in sluggish hands. In fact, gas was but par- 
 tially used, and what water came into the cisterns 
 was scanty and bad. The remedies were easy 
 enough; and before Greystone House had called 
 Angelo Lyons, Esq., its master twelve months, lo 
 and behold! up rose a grand Gas Company; and 
 then a grand Water Company, to make the towns- 
 folks stare with astonishment at what they could do 
 if they pleased. Then up rose the builders, too ; till 
 what there was of the Old Town became so small, 
 in comparison with what the New one would be by 
 and bye, that what one company could not do, two 
 companies might. So that the public at last were well 
 served, and the lucky shareholders in excellent key. 
 It was competition that the old borough wanted, 
 to rouse it out of its lethargy. And now it had got 
 it in good earnest, and not a provincial town in all 
 England was better lighted and watered than Ship- 
 hampton. True, it created some little jealousies
 
 LADY ADA CHILVTRS. Z / O 
 
 and animosities; rival powers are not noted for 
 fellowship ; but what of that if the public were well 
 served ? " opposition ' busses J never filled well when 
 running on friendly terms." 
 
 Of course Mr. Lyons was chairman of one 
 company, and another Magnus Opollo was chair- 
 man of the other; and, of course, down to the lamp- 
 lighters and errand-boys, there was a pretty firm 
 determination on the part of them all to outshine and 
 outstrip their opponents whenever they could. It 
 was the necessary consequence of his own reforms, 
 and Mr. Lyons had to take his share of the penalties 
 of popularity as well as its profits. 
 
 Now it so happened that there was a meeting of 
 three or four of the New Gas Company's operatives 
 at the little inn called The Jackdaw, in Water Lane, 
 on the evening preceding the " flare-up," as they 
 termed it, at Greystone House, to discuss the affairs 
 of the nation in general, and their own private 
 interest therein in particular, over their usual friendly 
 glass before wishing good night. Of course the 
 next night's u grand doings, where the murder was" 
 was the theme uppermost, speculation being on the 
 qui vive to hear all about the costly preparations that 
 were being made, and the M splendid affair" — as 
 Sir Compton told everybody — it was expected to be. 
 
 18—2 '
 
 276 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Humph \" growled a dusky visaged stoker, as 
 he raised the beer to his lips ; " I'd like to know 
 what the poor old lady would say to it, if so be she 
 could look up out of her grave V 
 
 " What, indeed !" was the unanimous response. 
 " Stare rather, wouldn't she ?" 
 
 "It does seem strange, don't it," went on the 
 first speaker, Mr. Simon Box, "those 'Peelers' 
 never misses the right one by no chance, when 
 nobody minds whether they're caught or not ; but 
 come to want 'em for a black job like that up there, 
 I'm blessed if they're any more use, nine times out 
 of ten, than that quart pot." 
 
 " Seems so, don't it, Simon ?" rejoined a stout, 
 red-faced, fiery-eyed man of middle age and autho- 
 ritative mien, taking the pipe he was smoking in 
 his arm-chair in the corner from his lips, and dis- 
 playing the bloated, full-face of no less a person of 
 consequence in Shiphampton than Mr. John Strong, 
 the tax-gatherer. 
 
 " It do, Mr. Strong." 
 
 " Cutting their ears hoff, too," muttered the tax- 
 collector, vehemently puffing away again — w there's 
 a hact !" 
 
 The atrocity of which seemed to absorb Mr. John 
 Strong so, that he kept murmuring between the
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 277 
 
 clouds he emitted from his mouth, " there's a hact," 
 as if he could think of that only ; while Mr. Simon 
 Box, dwelling rather on the "humbug of those 
 1 Peelers/ " as he called the local police, for letting 
 the murderers go loose, and locking up the petty 
 larcenists, continued growling in his throat against 
 the "'bosh' of a government," whose paid agents, 
 come to test them, were * no more use, nine times 
 out of ten, than quart pots." 
 
 But there was one of the quartette in the tap- 
 room of The Jackdaw that evening, who, buried in 
 his own reflections, sat silent and musing, as if he 
 had something heavier on his mind than was troub- 
 ling Mr. Strong and Mr. Box. His brow was over- 
 cast, he sat all of a heap, with rounded back, and 
 his eyes on the iron-rimmed toes of his high-lows, 
 and with his massive jaw so firmly set, that if what 
 was then and there passing in Enoch Fletcher's mind 
 was peaceful and pleasant, his countenance sadly 
 belied him ; for there was a savage sullenness in its 
 expression not at all agreeable to contemplate, if 
 physiognomy is anything to go by. He had the 
 look of a man ill at ease about something, but not 
 of one who shrunk from observation; there was 
 nothing about him either doubtful or dangerous, 
 nothing sinister nor villainous ; but he seemed, as
 
 "27S ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 every now and then he rolled his eyes round the 
 room when any one came in or went out, as if he 
 would have no objection to quarrel with somebody 
 and fight it out ; but certainly not as if Enoch 
 Fletcher were a man to take an unfair advantage 
 or deal a coward-blow. 
 
 " What's amiss now, Mr. Enoch?" asked his 
 young mate opposite, with the sooty mask, and red 
 cheeks smiling through it, as he pushed the pewter 
 pot across the table after taking a draught ; " aint 
 you well V 
 
 " Yes, yes, Richard, well enough for that ; but 
 it's how I said it would be."" 
 
 " What ! about putting that chap Lambert over 
 us, do you mean V 
 
 " Aye, sure !" 
 
 "Has he?" 
 
 "Mr. Lyons? Yes. Didn't you hear? He 
 comes on to-morrow." 
 
 "Partly Lady Ada Chilvers's doing, wasn't it, 
 Mr. Enoch ? Leastways so they say." 
 
 " What odds then, Richard ? Nice chicken, I'm 
 thinking, to be crowing over us. How's he to 
 know? I'm mistaken if I stand it, Richard; so 
 that's flat." 
 
 " Why, he was taking their likenesses, somebody
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 279 
 
 was saying, up at The Park there, and The Priory, 
 all last week, painting on 'em," smiled Richard, 
 evidently not a little puzzled to conceive how a 
 delicate handed chap like him could answer. 
 
 " What, a hartist ?" said Mr. Strong from the 
 depths of his chest. "That's rum." 
 
 " It's the sort can turn their hands to anything, 3 ' 
 observed Mr. Box, ruminatively, after a deep pull 
 at the pewter; "and, come what may, take to the 
 photographing the people for sixpence, frame and 
 all, any day they've got enough to buy that thing in 
 the box they spy through at you with one eye, 
 with the apron over their heads, while they shut the 
 other. My misses and Tom and Billy were taken 
 beautiful ! all together, last Monday." 
 
 " What, by him ?" asked Richard, with a smile, 
 " as has been taking them up at Buck ?" 
 
 " Bless you ! no, Richard. That youngster, Alan 
 Lambert, do you mean? Not he! He charges 
 ten and six, don't he, for — what do you call 'em ? — 
 them chalks, all rough like, and that smears terrible 
 if you touch 'em." 
 
 " Humph !" from Mr. Strong, with indignation. 
 " Ten and six ! And can get it done beautiful, 
 frame and all, for sixpence — there's a hact !" and 
 resuming his pipe, the tax-gatherer shewed by the
 
 280 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 placid way he now puffed away at it, where he should 
 go for his portrait when so minded. 
 
 "Best stick to his chalks/' muttered Enoch 
 Fletcher. " Likely enough it's to please Lady 
 Ada; else, do you think Mr. Lyons don't know 
 better than to come that sort of game over us ? It 
 won't fit, though, I can tell him." 
 
 " It's my belief,' 5 observed Mr. Box, " a deal of 
 money's to be made by them cameras they spy at 
 us through. But mind, if you're took, your clothes 
 be smart, and your hands in your pockets ; and, 
 whatever you do, keep your mouth shut, mind 
 that ; else, you may be took for ever, and never 
 get one to suit you. Bat, lor ! those smeary 
 chalks must be starving work, get as little by 
 them as he's done, by all accounts, since he 
 came. Why, Mary Finch, where he lodges, was 
 telling me only yesterday, that 'till Lady Chilvers 
 got him up to the Hall, he hadn't done no more 
 than them at the Priory ever since he took her 
 top rooms. You see, who'll give ten and six each, 
 and no abatement, when you may get them easy, 
 as you may say, like my misses and Tom and Billy, 
 done beautiful, frame and all, for sixpence V 
 
 " Not reasonable, no how, is it ?" rejoined Richard 
 Coles, whose ruddy cheeks, where the dirt was off
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 281 
 
 them, and sparkling eyes, bespoke an amiable in- 
 clination to agree, as far as possible, with every one. 
 
 " And what's he going to get by coming down 
 here ?" murmured Mr. Enoch. " Not me to mind 
 him. Where's the lift I was promised by Sir Comp- 
 ton last year ? Aye, and you, too, Richard ? And 
 now to have that beardless youngster put over 
 us — not a boy at the works going to stand that, I 
 know." 
 
 " Atrocious ! — cut their ears off — there's a hact !" 
 mumbled Mr. Strong in his sleep. 
 
 " Pll tell you what it is, Richard," went on Mr. 
 Enoch, to whom the tax-collector's somnolent ejacu- 
 lations were no novelty, " there'll be a row among 
 us before long, if so be whenever there's a chance 
 for an old hand, it's given away this fashion to a 
 new one, to favour Lady Ada." 
 
 i( She's a kind, good lady ! Mr. Enoch," returned 
 Richard, who was courting The Priory housemaid. 
 
 " Shuts her eyes, eh Dick, when Richard Coles is 
 in there of an evening, on the sly, with his smutty 
 face and six days clothes on ?" 
 
 "Ha! ha! that's your sort, eh, Enoch — does as 
 she'd be done by ? Good luck to her !'' and if the 
 huge draught Dick took to drink it in were intended 
 to be evidence of his sincerity, clearly Lady Ada
 
 282 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 had a warm friend in Richard Coles, as the empty- 
 pot touchingly attested. 
 
 "Well," laughed Enoch, somewhat mollified at 
 the thought of how the beer had been drunk up 
 while he was grumbling ; " it's no good, is it, fight- 
 ing against the great folks who've got it all in their 
 own hands ? Mustn't quarrel with our bread and 
 butter, must we? But I'm altered, Dick, if I'll 
 stand being crowed over by that young bantam, or 
 any other, so I tell you ! What's he to do down 
 here ? Take Godfrey Forest's place, as under clerk ? 
 Yes ! and how much a week will that be to him, 
 while we're not getting half? That's just, is it ?" 
 
 But Richard was thinking of Susan, at The 
 Priory, and of his promise to see her that night 
 before she went to bed. So Enoch had no help for 
 it but to stomach his wrath as best he could; and, 
 leaving Mr. Strong and Mr. Box to club for what 
 else they pleased when John Strong woke up from 
 his doze, to go home to his wife and children, and 
 try and learn the chief lesson of life — how best to do 
 his duty, with content and thankfulness, under 
 every circumstance, be the state what it might unto 
 which it pleased Heaven to call him. 
 
 Poor Lady Ada ! How difficult it is to do un- 
 mixed good. In using her influence with Mr. Lyons
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 2 S3 
 
 to obtain for Mary Finches lodger, alias Lambert by 
 name, a better livelihood than it was likely he would 
 ever pick up in Shiphampton with his paints and 
 crayons, she little thought of any harm that could 
 come from it. She had taken an interest in the 
 young artist for two reasons ; first, from the peculiar 
 circumstances of his introduction to her, and then 
 from hearing where he lived, in Mary Finch's pretty 
 cottage on The Green at Buck, and how highly 
 Molly spoke of him ! He was " so gentle and feel- 
 ing/' Molly said, "gave them no trouble, was con- 
 tented with whatever they did for him, made a 
 shoulder of mutton, dressed for him on Sunday, last 
 all the week ; yet, was a true gentleman born, they 
 could see, by his small white hands, and noble air, 
 and the pleasant way he spoke to every one." 
 
 Lady Ada's first knowledge of Mr. Lambert came 
 thus. — Like Mr. Lyons, Lady Ada w T as an ardent 
 lover of the Arts, and as far as her slender means 
 would allow, added such fresh " gems" as she could 
 procure to her little cabinet collection in which she 
 took great pride. For its size, it was very choice ; 
 and often drew Mr. Lyons for an afternoon's walk 
 across the pleasant meadows to Buck, especially when 
 came a new purchase, and his correct judgment was 
 wanted to corroborate hers. It was not often that a
 
 284 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 f gem of a picture' was to be picked up in Ship- 
 ham pton ; but one day, when shopping in Market 
 Street, Lady Ada's attention was drawn by Miss 
 Lyons, who was walking with her, to what appeared 
 to them to be a veritable Rubens in the window of an 
 old curiosity shop, famed for sometimes coming into 
 possession of ' the genuine article ' by inexplicable 
 means ; but as there it was, all you had to do was to 
 buy it if you would, and could; if not, you could look 
 at it till somebody else did, which was something. 
 
 " Admirable !" exclaimed Lady Ada, after a breath- 
 less gaze. " A genuine Rubens ! if I am any judge. 
 My love," to Rachel Lyons, " I must know how 
 much would make it mine ;" and entering the shop, 
 old Nathan, as he was called, its white haired, bent- 
 backed, shrunken, shrivelled up little master, came 
 hobbling from his parlour ; at all times anxious to 
 oblige his customers, whether they bought of him or 
 did not. 
 
 <l Yes, it was a Rubens — " an undoubted Rubens ! 
 — as her ladyship could see." 
 
 " How beautiful \" ejaculated Rachel, in a whisper, 
 as the old Israelite turned his head, as if wishful 
 to take the picture down that they might see it 
 the better. 
 
 At which moment a young man, seemingly of
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. £S5 
 
 good rank, though seedily dressed, stopped to look 
 at it ; and " no, no," said Lady Ada, " let it stay ; 
 the light is very good where it is. Is it for sale V s 
 
 The old Jew raised his eyes from his withered 
 hands on the counter ; and though he did not say 
 yes, in reply, there was that in his smile which left 
 Lady Ada in no doubt but that, careless as he seemed 
 about parting with it, the picture would be sold when 
 it fetched its price. 
 
 To get a fuller view of it, the young man outside 
 came so close to the door that he could hear what 
 the old Jew said, in the sharp, shrill key in which 
 he answered the questions put to him by the ladies 
 inside. One of whom was so lovely, though so 
 young, that Molly's lodger, Mr. Alan Lambert, 
 seemed hardly to know which to admire more, " the 
 perfect life itself or the painting V* Both were inex- 
 pressibly beautiful ! And there was a resemblance 
 in the two faces which accounted, perhaps, for the 
 way in which the young artist kept his enchanted 
 gaze for a moment or two on the sweet up-turned 
 face of the young living girl, while he could get a 
 glimpse of it, without infringing the bounds of good 
 breeding. 
 
 It was a picture of a kneeling Mary Magdalene, 
 admirably painted, if not by Rubens himself, by
 
 286 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 one who had wonderfully reproduced him, so won- 
 derfully in the present instance, that even as good a 
 judge as old Nathan was justified in not taking a 
 farthing less for it — if he parted with it — than what 
 he had asked ; which though nothing to wealth 
 like Mr. Angelo Lyons's, took the colour out of poor 
 Lady Ada's cheeks, " even to think of it." 
 
 Lady Ada shook her head disconsolately. Taking 
 which to mean that the price was too high : — 
 
 " What, for an original Rubens ?" smiled Nathan. 
 " No, no, my lady." 
 
 " Will you warrant it ?" 
 
 " Warrant !" he squeaked, glancing sharply at the 
 seedy-looking young loiterer at the side-window. 
 " It needs none." 
 
 " Has Mr. Lyons, of Greystone House, seen it V 
 
 " I can't say, my lady." 
 
 " Will you give me the refusal of it" — looking at 
 her watch — " till four o'clock ?" 
 
 " At the price mentioned ?" 
 
 " If no less will do ?" 
 
 " Not a farthing ! Match it for the money, and 
 I'll give it your ladyship." 
 
 Lady Ada stood silent a moment, as if hesitating 
 whether to fly from the temptation, or to shut her 
 eyes to everything but the delights of it, say the
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 287 
 
 word, make the treasure hers, and send for Mr. 
 Angelo Lyons to see " how brave she had been." 
 
 " Best consult papa first, don't you think so V 
 advised Rachel. 
 
 " I may sell it, my lady," put in Nathan, " if T 
 don't hear from you by four o'clock V 
 
 " Well, perhaps that will be best, Mr. Nathan. 
 Yes, you shall know by then. Good morning," — 
 and away went Lady Ada and Rachel to the docks, 
 in the hope of finding Mr. Lyons among his ships. 
 But he had "just left," the clerk told them, and 
 "gone home." No, nor was he at home. Faith u could 
 not think where he was." 
 
 " I so wanted to see him !" said Lady Ada. 
 
 '*$Ve must see papa before four," added Miss 
 Rachel, eagerly. " Perhaps he would walk over 
 after luncheon, Faith. Tell him he must" 
 
 " I want his opinion of a picture before I buy it," 
 explained Lady Ada ; " and have promised to decide 
 about it by four o'clock." 
 
 " I will be sure to tell Mr. Lyons, when he comes 
 in," promised Faith. 
 
 Forced to be satisfied with which, off they hurried 
 homeward, full of the Rubens; and "the evident 
 delight with which the very handsome, clever-looking
 
 288 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 young man outside was devouring it with his eyes, 
 while they were talking of it, within." 
 
 " It was Mr. Lambert, the artist, I think, said 
 Rachel, thoughtfully, "who has taken Mary Finch's 
 upper rooms. He went there from the town, Mary 
 was telling Faith, for his health, last week. Now I 
 recollect, he was sketching on the hill-side, near The 
 Priory, when I and Jane Rosse went in the donkey- 
 chaise to see Molly and Hester on Wednesday. 
 How thin and pale he looks, does he not V 
 
 " Good gracious, darling, then be sure it is an 
 original Rubens ! for I thought he never would have 
 done studying it. I fancied I had seen his face be- 
 fore. A very intelligent countenance, very ! An 
 artist, is he ?" 
 
 " And a very talented one, papa says, from what he 
 has seen of his portraits." 
 
 " Paints portraits, too ? How fortunate ! I 
 know somebody I should like amazingly to have in 
 a gilt frame over the mantle piece in my boudoir ; 
 and if ever she sit to him, I know how she shall be 
 dressed, and wear those golden tresses, to please me. 
 We must call and hear what Molly says about it." 
 
 And so chatting on, presently they entered the 
 shrubbery that led to The Cottage ; so called as
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 289 
 
 often as The Priory, indeed oftener by Lady Ada who 
 liked simple names and the simple truths they stood 
 for. 
 
 But fast as they had walked, in the hope that Mr. 
 Lyons might have been induced by the delicious 
 beauty of the day to come and lunch with them, 
 Molly's Lodger, Mr. Alan Lambert, had reached 
 home before them ; and not a little was Molly puz- 
 zled to conceive what had happened when he bade 
 her come with him up stairs and hear what he had 
 to say to her. 
 
 " Can it be," said Molly to herself, " that he isn't 
 comfortable, and wants to leave ? Yet, he's got the 
 feather-bed poor dear Misses slept in for thirty years 
 and more under the mattress, and he might have it 
 at the top if he would. Or, may be, we do his meat 
 too much. He asked us not, when he came the first 
 day ; but, law ! poor dear Misses used to have hers 
 dried up almost to a cinder, and that's how it is, 
 mayhap, Hester forgets. Oh, dear me ! nothing 
 but cares and crosses in this mortal life, God help 
 us!" 
 
 Which bringing her into the studio — u Oh, Mrs. 
 Finch ! M began Alan Lambert, u I have seen that 
 lovely young lady again to day, in a shop in Ship- 
 hampton — the same I saw on Wednesday, in the don- 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 £90 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 key chaise, with Miss Rosse, when I was sketching 
 The Mill on the hill side." 
 
 Molly heaved a grateful sigh ; and inwardly ejacu- 
 lating " Heaven be thanked!" would have further 
 eased her mind of " the mattress at top," and how 
 "their poor dear Misses always would have her 
 meat done," but that Mr. Lambert stopped her by 
 asking — 
 
 " Is Lady Ada Chilvers very rich ?" 
 
 It set Molly thinking " what he wanted to know 
 for ?" 
 
 " Whether or no, Mrs. Finch, I happened to 
 hear her ask the price of a picture just now in 
 Market Street ; and, however rich she may be, 
 I hope she won't give what the dealer asks 
 for it." 
 
 Molly stared. 
 
 " It was at Mr. Nathan's old curiosity shop ; and 
 a good picture it was, Mrs. Finch ; but not an 
 original." 
 
 Still Molly was in the dark. 
 
 "Not a Rubens, which Lady Ada believes it 
 to be." 
 
 ' ' Law, Sir ! why don't you paint one ? which you'll 
 be able soon to do now easy enough, when your 
 health's better j and then take it to The Priory, or up 

 
 LADY ADA CHILVEKS. 291 
 
 to The Hall ? Money's no object to them there, where 
 they take a fancy. Only a fortnight ago Sir Comp- 
 ton gave a Thousand Pounds, they say, for another 
 racer. Law ! thai/s a good thought, too ! Perhaps 
 you might get to paint it." 
 
 It flushed the young artist's cheeks. Evidently 
 Molly thought highly of him. But at present he 
 was most bent on putting Lady Chilvers on her 
 guard against buying a copy for an original; and 
 now plainly put it to Molly, "whether, by going at 
 once to The Cottage, and stating what he had said 
 to her, it would not be a friendly act on her 
 part ?" 
 
 " Why not step across yourself?" suggested Molly, 
 maternally. 
 
 " I could not think of taking such a liberty." 
 
 " Law, bless you, sir, liberty ! Just go once, and 
 you'll never say that any more." 
 
 "If you would kindly do it for me, Mrs. Finch, 
 I should feel obliged." 
 
 " You'd see Miss Lyons, too, so you would ; for 
 she's there to-day," added Molly. 
 
 " By four o'clock Lady Ada must give Mr. 
 Nathan an answer, whether she will have the picture 
 or not — it is two o'clock now, Mrs. Pinch." 
 
 Molly looked up with a beseeching eye, cnoi 
 
 19-
 
 202 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 say " you had better go yourself, it might be your 
 making !" but Alan Lambert shook his head. 
 
 "What am I to say ?" asked Molly. 
 
 <f That the picture Lady Ada and Miss Lyons 
 were looking at this morning in Market Street, is a 
 copy, not an original/' 
 
 " And that Mr. Lambert says so ?" 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 "Best write it down, don't you think, sir?" 
 
 Whieh having done on a card in pencil, away 
 trudged Molly on her errand, nothing loath ; though 
 sadly grieving all the way that he had " lost such 
 an opportunity of speaking a good word for him- 
 self." 
 
 The ladies at The Cottage and at The Hall were 
 always pleased to see Molly ; for though apt to look 
 rather more on the dark side of things than agreed 
 with her happiness, she was a good, honest, thrifty, 
 w ell-meaning creature, and had been a trustworthy 
 servant in one place for forty years. 
 
 Lady Ada and Rachel had just seated themselves 
 on a garden bench among the rhododendrons and 
 roses, to rest awhile after their long walk, when 
 Molly's arrival at The Priory was made known to 
 them ; as also that she was the bearer of a mes- 
 sage to Lady Ada from Mr. Lambert, on The Green,
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 293 
 
 " a very particular message ! which she must deliver 
 herself." 
 
 Why it should have called up a suddeu flush into 
 Lady Ada's cheeks, and simultaneously taken all 
 the colour out of Miss Rachel's, while the page 
 went to fetch Molly on to the lawn, we don't know ; 
 but it did. 
 
 i( A particular message from Mr. Lambert — how 
 odd !" 
 
 "Yes, my lady," said Molly, respectfully declin- 
 ing the seat offered her in consideration of her grey 
 hairs, as she was in a hurry to get back, as Hester 
 was out, to give Mr. Lambert his dinner. " Though, 
 law, my lady !- as to that," added Molly, proudly, 
 " it's little he will let us do for him all the week but 
 serve up the cold meat and boil him a potato, he is 
 so plain -waved and easily pleased." 
 
 " And draws and paints beautifully ! we hear," 
 smiled Lady Ada. 
 
 Molly knit her brow. 
 
 " Not much encouragement for him here, I fear, 
 Mary." 
 
 " It was n't that I was thinking of, my lady. I 
 was thinking what a pity it was I couldn't prevail 
 on him to step across himself with his portfolio, my 
 lady ; then, my lady, you would have seen what he
 
 294 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 could do. It's wonderful, young as he is! There's 
 a young girl he's painted since he came to us, with 
 a bunch of lilies and violets in her hand, that — it's 
 true, my lady — the flies light on when he takes it 
 out to shew us." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Rachel, colouring. " Painted 
 it since he came to live with you, Mary V 3 
 
 " Yes, sure, Miss ! And began it after he came in 
 on Wednesday, when he says he saw you and Miss 
 Kosse in the donkey -chaise; and finished it yester- 
 day. It's wonderful !" 
 
 " Oh, a girl with a posy in her hand ?" smiled 
 Lady Ada. " For sale ?" 
 
 " Sure, my lady, any one, that could, would buy 
 it of him in a minute ! But he means, he says, to 
 put it in a gold frame, and hang it up in his room 
 over the sofa. May be, it puts him in mind of some- 
 body he loves — though he's an orphan, without 
 brothers or sisters — for he's always looking at it." 
 
 " Very likely," agreed Lady Ada. " But we must 
 not forget the message you have brought me from 
 him, Mary." 
 
 " Law, no ! to be sure not, my lady. There's a 
 head I've got ! God have mercy on us ! We need 
 be always saying it. If I could only have persuaded 
 him to step over himself."
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 295 
 
 " It would have pleased me very much, Mary. 
 But if Mr. Lambert is waiting for his dinner, I 
 must not detain you any longer." 
 
 " That's true, my lady. Well, then, to be sure, 
 I was to tell your ladyship that the picture you and 
 Miss Lyons were looking at this morning in Market 
 Street, is a copy — not an — law, then ! what was the 
 word ? There's a head I've got ! But it's written 
 down here, if your ladyship will be pleased to read 
 it." 
 
 " Original. — I see. Indeed ! How very kind [" 
 and Lady Ada looked at Rachel Lyons, and Rachel 
 at Lady Ada, in astonishment, while reading the 
 pencil note. 
 
 "I think, my lady, Mr. Lambert said he over- 
 heard Mr. Nathan telling you what was not true; 
 and so he thought you ought not to give the price 
 he asked you for it, and hoped you would not take 
 it as a liberty his sending me over. He is so gentle- 
 manly !" 
 
 " On the contrary, Mary, pray give my compli- 
 ments to Mr. Lambert, and assure him, from me, 
 how kind I think it of him and how much obliged 
 I am ! Also tell him what pleasure I should have 
 had in making his acquaintance, if he had come 
 himself; and that I hope he will now do so with-
 
 296 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 out further ceremony. Can you remember it 
 all ?" 
 
 "Law, yes! my lady!" chuckled Molly, not a 
 little delighted with the success of her mission. Nor 
 seemingly was Miss Rachel less pleased than Molly 
 at the promise it held out of a speedy peep at the 
 "young girl with the posy of lilies and violets in her 
 hand" — flowers she loved so much herself, and a 
 bunch of which she had picked with Jane Rosse, at 
 the Vicarage, on the very day they saw Mr. Lambert 
 sketching on the hill- side, when they passed in the 
 donkey- chaise, to call on Molly. 
 
 Next day saw Mr. Alan Lambert crossing The 
 Green on his way to pay his respects, in person, to 
 Lady Ada. Molly was sadly put out because 
 he would not take his portfolio with him. She 
 thought it so wrong of him, " when he might have 
 put such a pretty penny in his pocket if he had been 
 advised by her." 
 
 Lady Ada Chilvers had a charming way of immedi- 
 ately putting every one at their ease who conversed 
 with her. It sprang from a generous mind and real 
 good breeding. Seemingly she took no pains about 
 it; it was involuntary with her to be kind and 
 affable; and she was so, without the slightest effort; 
 and thus, with the sweetest grace, made her visitors,
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 297 
 
 whom she esteemed, feel more at home than if she had 
 loaded them with courtly smiles, or overwhelmed 
 them with obligations. Lady Ada Chilvers had the 
 charming art, in perfection, of making others happy ; 
 because it was natural to her to do so, and you 
 could not but feel in her society that you were min- 
 istering to her gratification as much as she was to 
 yours. It put you on the best terms with yourself. 
 Her simple wish seemed to be that you should be as 
 happy as she herself was ; and by being the witness 
 rather than the cause and promoter of your happi- 
 ness, she so charmed you with your own feelings, 
 that well our young artist, Alan Lambert, might 
 felicitate himself, before he had been seated five 
 minutes in the drawing-room, that he had taken 
 Molly's advice, and " put on the grey tweed suit 
 that became him so well, and done as he was told 
 to do." 
 
 "And you find Buck much more healthy and 
 pleasant to live in," went on Lady Ada, after the 
 first greetings, " than Shiphampton. A pretty rural 
 village, is it not ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed ! and abounding in charming spots 
 for the pencil. Where wish for a lovelier view than 
 from the hill-top, overlooking the Mill Brook ? It 
 is full of Cuyps, and Ruysdaels, and Gainsborouglis,
 
 298 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 and Copley Fieldings. You paint, Lady Chilvers, 
 do you not ?" 
 
 " In water-colours, yes, a little." 
 
 He glanced at the drawings on the walls ; and 
 looked wistfully at the one nearest him. It was the 
 same old water-mill, and the rippling little river 
 that set it going, with its pleasant meadows and 
 orchards, and cows under the shade of the trees, 
 that he was sketching when the young ladies passed 
 the hill-foot in the donkey-chaise a few days back, 
 to call on Molly ; and why or wherefore he knew 
 best himself, but the colour came into his cheeks. 
 
 " It is a favourite subject with us all," smiled 
 Lady Ada, — " The Old Mill. You are at work on it, 
 Mary Finch was saying yesterday ? How do you 
 like that view of it from the road ?" 
 
 " Exceedingly ! But you lose the broken down 
 old ivy wall in the miller's garden, don't you, which 
 I have got in mine ? Otherwise, you have a better 
 foreground ; and get more of the oak-copse in be- 
 hind than I do. Yes, it is very clever." 
 
 " Which I cannot get Miss Lyons to grant. But 
 I had it framed, all the same, and hung there, I tell 
 her, till she can replace it with a better. That's fair, 
 don't you think so V 
 
 It accounted for those pretty blushes of Miss
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 299 
 
 Rachel's, as Mr. Alan Lambert turned from the 
 picture to do homage to the gifted painter, while 
 Lady Ada was enjoying her embarrassment exceed- 
 ingly. For Rachel Lyons was almost as strange a 
 giil, in some things, as her father was a man ; and 
 of one thing Lady Ada was determined to break her, 
 if possible, and that was the silly way she shrank 
 from hearing herself praised, where praise was her 
 due, and ought to have filled with joy a young and 
 affectionate heart like hers was. It never did so. 
 Nay, praise always seemed to pain rather than please 
 her; and she would tell Faith, to whom she opened 
 her mind more than to anyone else, that " nothing 
 made her so sad as to hear herself admired and ex- 
 tolled for what had cost her no pains, and, therefore, 
 did her no credit." 
 
 Lady Ada had remarked this constitutional pecu- 
 liarity in Rachel from the first day of their acquaint- 
 ance; and attributing it in a great measure to the 
 influence her father's sombre character would 
 naturally have on a sensitive, deep-thinking child so 
 much in his society as she was, made it a point to 
 judiciously discourage it whenever she had an op- 
 portunity. She was glad, therefore, to hear Mr. 
 Lambert so warmly commend the drawing in her 
 presence, before he knew who did it, but more so
 
 300 AXGELO LYONS. 
 
 to observe the evident gratification it gave her when 
 he pointed out some of its defects, as " evidences of 
 how much better she would soon do, if she chose," 
 which suffused her beautiful face with the first real 
 gleam of genuine pleasure Lady Ada had ever seen in 
 it ; though Rachel " had the fondest of fathers, the 
 happiest of homes, and all that wealth could com- 
 mand at her beck and call," every one said. 
 
 Rachel listened with marked interest to Mr. 
 Lambert's critical remarks on her drawing, because 
 it was so new to her not to be praised. For now he 
 came to examine it more closely, it was " defective — 
 out of drawing in some places, not in perspective in 
 others, and here the light was not strong enough, 
 and there the shadows were too deep, and next time 
 she must "tone down her colouring rather more, so 
 as, with the contrasts, to produce that harmony, 
 in the whole, which was indispensable to a pleasing 
 effect." 
 
 " How delightful it was to be talked to thus, as if 
 she were a reasonable creature!" and Lady Ada sat 
 and smiled her perfect concurrence in silence ; but 
 not without seeing, from that moment, more into 
 Rachel's mind than she had ever seen till then. 
 Every one. else said to her when they looked at her 
 productions — " Oh, Miss Lyons," or " oh, Rachel,
 
 LADY ADA CHILYERS. 301 
 
 how beautiful ! how masterly !" when her good 
 sense told her how far from even tolerable they were, 
 regarded as works of Art. It was so refreshing, so 
 creditable to her understanding, to be able thus to 
 stand well with herself. It appealed, as it were, to 
 a power within her, of the existence of which, 
 though she felt conscious, spite of all flattery, she 
 feared to trust to, unconfirmed but by her own 
 youthful judgment; it opened up to her quick-see- 
 ing imagination what had never been shewn her be- 
 fore — wherein she failed ; and the fresh brightness it 
 gave her somewhat too pensive loveliness, made her 
 look so beautiful, so interesting, that for a moment 
 or two the young artist gazed on her with an un- 
 disguised admiration he could not resist, and saw 
 no need to conceal. 
 
 " How surpassingly lovely she is !" he mentally ex- 
 claimed ; " and why should I not own it ?" He did ! 
 As he would have done honest heart-felt homage at 
 the shrine of any other of the Creator's fairest works 
 intended for man's happiness. 
 
 " I shall now get my companion drawing to it 
 soon, I hope," said Lady Ada, u which I have been 
 looking for so long. You hear, my love/' to Rachel, 
 " how wrong it would be for you to doubt about 
 it any more."
 
 302 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Indeed, yes !" acquiesced Mr. Lambert, with 
 glowing eyes ; " it would be more than wrong, it 
 would be a sin not to persevere and succeed, with 
 such talent as Miss Lyons has." But seeing her 
 suddenly become thoughtful — " I sincerely mean it," 
 he added, as if he divined the cause of her downcast 
 look. " I love my Art too much to discredit it, if I 
 am any judge, by false praise ; and you, Miss Lyons, 
 love it also too much, or I am mistaken, not to feel 
 sure that what I say is the truth. You could not 
 have drawn that picture of The Mill Brook, faulty 
 as it is, without being sensible of the power there 
 is in you to do better — could she, Lady Chilvers V 
 
 " Certainly not ! She don't deny it. But I sup- 
 pose flattery is so frequent in these cases, Mr. 
 Lambert, that any real merit there may be in a girl 
 is injured by it rather than helped; which perhaps 
 makes Miss Lyons look so distrustfully at us some- 
 times when we only wish to be just. 
 
 " Very well, then, I will try again," smiled 
 Rachel, as the colour rose to her cheeks, "if Mr. 
 Lambert will have the kindness to give me a lesson 
 now and then, if he can spare time." 
 
 It settled the matter in a moment — the bargain 
 was struck — and the " companion drawing," in the 
 mind's eye of them all, as good as a. fait accompli.
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 303 
 
 " And now about my Rubens in Market Street," 
 said Lady Ada, dolefully ; " only think of a wonder- 
 ful judge like I am being deceived ! Are you sure ?" 
 
 " Quite positive." 
 
 Lady Ada looked, at the very young man facing 
 her, as if surprised at such confidence in one so little 
 experienced. 
 
 He read her thoughts ; and repeated " quite 
 positive !" 
 
 " The design is Rubens' s ?" 
 
 " Assuredly." 
 
 " And the 'air,' and 'motion,' and 'rich colouring/ 
 are his, too, exactly ?" 
 
 " Do you think so ?" 
 
 " If an imitation, it is an inimitable one 1" 
 
 " A pasticcio, as the Italians call it V 9 
 
 " Oh, how mortifying ! when I thought myself 
 so clever." 
 
 " Nay, it has not even the merit of one of those 
 productions called pasticcios, or pie-pictures, because, 
 as you know, like a pate, they are composed of 
 various kinds of meat, — for there is no inventive 
 originality in it, with mere imitation of style in the 
 composition and colouring of a great master. It is 
 a copy, and nothing but a copy — pretty faithful 
 that's true — but no, no, 'he must possess the mind
 
 304 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 of the great master, who would come up to his 
 expression,' as Charles Blanc says in his History of 
 The Painters, ' and be endowed with his genius, 
 before he could attain to his grandeur/ Yes, and 
 not only is this veritable Rubens of Mr. Nathan's a 
 copy — it is — indeed it is — a copy of a copy — rest 
 assured of it." 
 
 " Worse and worse ! Oh, Rachel dear ! I must 
 give up buying bargains ?" 
 
 " Of course you know," rejoined Alan Lambert, 
 now in his element, " for what David Teniers, the 
 younger, was most famous V 3 
 
 " But you would not call him a mere imitator, 
 would you ?" asked Rachel, who loved no books in 
 her father's library better than those which dis- 
 coursed of the old Italian and Dutch and Flemish 
 masters. 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not." 
 
 " And if he were/' observed Lady Ada — " enthusi- 
 astic imitation, of the works of great masters, as his 
 biographer says, is almost always the first visible 
 form of inspiration in youth. It is the recognition 
 of the surpassing talent of others which often gives 
 the first promise of it in the student himself." 
 
 "You mean," said Alan Lambert, kindling at the 
 glowing thoughts the remark called up, " that a copy
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 305 
 
 by Teniers, the younger, is not so much a copy as 
 another specimen by the great masters. Exactly 
 Charles Blanc's idea, his very words. He does not 
 imitate Titian or Rubens, but renews them ? Well, 
 there is some truth in that. But what's to be said 
 for the pie-pictures, the pasticcios proper ? — for the 
 genuine Rubens in the window in Market Street — 
 for the undoubted copy from a copy, I wonder V 3 
 
 " Only/' smiled Rachel, " that it is very cruel of 
 you to so dash our hopes. But you ought to tell us 
 how you know it is what you say; or, should it 
 turn out that you are wrong — how then ?" 
 
 " Then, Miss Lyons, the consequence will unques- 
 tionably be that I did not paint it myself, which I 
 unquestionably did. And, moreover, will guarantee 
 that it can be yours, frame and all, if you please, 
 Lady Ada, for any spare corner you could find 
 for it among your Great Originals, for the fun of 
 puzzling the connoisseurs. 33 
 
 " A master- piece V s cried Lady Ada, clapping her 
 hands with delight. " Oh, my love," to Rachel, 
 " send Robin off this moment for the picture. 
 We'll hang it between the Paul Veronese and the 
 Adrian Ostarde ; yes, and when your papa comes, 
 you shall see what I will make him offer me for it 
 before I part with it." 
 
 vol. t. 20
 
 306 ANGEI.O LYONS. 
 
 Need it be added how our young artist, Alan 
 Lambert, proudly sniffed the air that evening on his 
 return to old Molly ? with no less a piece of good 
 news to tell her than that he was " formally installed 
 by Mr. Lyons and Lady Ada, as Miss Lyons's 
 instructor in drawing and water colours; with a 
 free pass in and out of The Priory and Greystone 
 House whenever he pleased. Provided always, that 
 if he found himself unappreciated in Shiphampton, 
 he would accept such honourable amends for it as 
 Mr. Lyons had it in his power and patronage to 
 offer him — " A proposition, Mrs. Finch/' added 
 Mr. Lambert, gravely, " so apparently pleasing to 
 both Lady Ada and Miss Rachel, that I have 
 promised to give it serious consideration, and shall 
 certainly do so." 
 
 It accorded entirely with Molly's maternal bosom, 
 touching that " one joint of meat a- week/' and what 
 she had been told " you might have your likeness 
 taken for in Shiphampton, frame and all ;" but, 
 for some reason, Molly hung her head. 
 
 Alan Lambert had a quick eye. 
 
 " And I am in hopes, Mrs. Finch/' he just 
 wished to mention, " that come what may, you will 
 have as much cause to be satisfied with me, as your 
 lodger, as I have with you, as my landlady. It will
 
 LADY ADA CHILVKRS. 307 
 
 be long, I trust, ere we separate. It is but a 
 healthy walk into town. And I am going to ask 
 Lady Ada's gardener for some of those beautiful 
 prize roses of his, to plant under my window ; so 
 that by next summer, Mrs. Finch, please Heaven all 
 goes well, I mean to train them up to the roof, and 
 then they will come peeping into my bed-room, 
 won't they, when I open the sash ?" 
 
 It was a bargain ! and all that Molly wanted to 
 say further about it was — 
 
 " Oh, sir, now you see, don't you, what a good 
 thing it was you put on that handsome suit, and 
 went and shewed yourself, brave and bold, as I told 
 you ? It will be your making as sure as you're born ! 
 Excuse me, sir, for being so free ; but it isn't every 
 day good tidings come, and God knows I've had 
 many cares." 
 
 Mr. Lyons must have been greatly pleased with 
 Mr. Alan Lambert, to have so readily come to terms 
 with him for the instruction of his daughter. It 
 was not every " old hand at the Arts " would have 
 satisfied Mr. Lyons, much less a young one like 
 Alan Lambert. Perhaps Lady Ada's voice in the 
 matter had weight, for he always gave earnest heed 
 to her opinions, and in this instance she " minced 
 no words" with him, but plainly let him understand, 
 
 20—2
 
 308 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 before they asked his consent, that " both she and 
 Rachel meant to have their own way, whether he 
 liked it or not." So Mr. Lambert had only to bow 
 his perfect approval, and be duly installed. 
 
 The " decided take-in" too, of the " undoubted 
 Rubens" between the Paul Veronese and the Adrian 
 Ostarde, in the dining-room, assisted Mr. Lambert 
 no little. What Lady Ada wanted for it — if she 
 parted with it, as old Nathan said — is immaterial ; 
 it must have been a swinging sum, by the way 
 Mr. Lyons screwed up his mouth and shook his 
 head, before he consented to give it. Consent he 
 did, and probably would have given double as much 
 if she had asked it. But no — there the picture was, 
 Lady Ada's own, and no money should rob her of 
 it. " Are not the design, and air, and motion, and 
 richness of colouring Rubens's all over V* she asked 
 him. 
 
 " Admirable \" agreed Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " You will never question our correct judgment, 
 after this, will you, papa dear V* asked Rachel, 
 archly. 
 
 " Why suppose it, you gipsy V* 
 
 " Not a pasticcio — nothing of that sort, eh ?" 
 smiled Alan Lambert.
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 309 
 
 " A pasticcio /" screamed Lady Ada ; " what 
 next ?" 
 
 u Dinner I hope," replied Mr. Lyons, calmly ; 
 "for I am hungry." 
 
 " All the same, you wish me joy of my Rubens, 
 I am sure/' laughed Lady Ada. 
 
 " How much did you give for it V 9 
 
 a Something fabulous !" 
 
 " It's true, papa." 
 
 " Have you taken it out of the frame ?" 
 
 "What for, papa?" 
 
 " Because the inner moulding is so wide, perhaps 
 it hides the name. . It was so with a celebrated 
 copy of David Teniers, junior, in the Archduke 
 Leopold's collection, long supposed to be one of 
 Rubens's best productions, till they took it out of its 
 frame and found who painted it." 
 
 " We might take it down and have a look, might 
 we not ?" said Alan Lambert, deferentially, to Lady 
 Ada. " Certainly there ought to be the name some- 
 where, and it is rather a broad border." 
 
 "After dinner !" proposed Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " No, now !" insisted Rachel : — and lo and be- 
 hold ! there, sure enough, in one corner was neither 
 Peter Paul Rubens, nor his inimitable imitator David 
 Teniers, junior; but no less a master of his Art than
 
 310 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Alan Lambert ! Being positively certified as to 
 which — 
 
 " Now offer me what you will for it," smiled 
 Lady Ada, leading the way into dinner, " and see 
 what you'll get \" 
 
 All which having put the reader in possession of 
 what a gratifying impression Mr. Alan Lambert 
 created at Greystone House, and The Priory, imme- 
 diately leading as it did to Lady Ada's determining 
 to enlist Mr. Lyons's powerful interest in his behalf 
 — a clue is gained to the meaning of Enoch Fletcher 
 and his mate's grumblings at The Jackdaw, in 
 Water Lane, over their beer. For being no less 
 impressed than was Lady Ada with the impossibility 
 of such talent and modesty as Mr. Lambert's ever 
 iinding a right market in Shiphampton, it cost Mr. 
 Lyons but small pains to carry out Lady Ada's 
 generous scheme for him, which had for its intention 
 the certain future provision of such regular periodical 
 payments for value received, at the docks, or other- 
 wise, as would establish their young friend on The 
 Green in a way that would insure them many more 
 of his clever chef-d' ceuvres than her Rubens, and 
 feed, and clothe him, and pay his landlady, too, 
 without fail. Wherefore, it so happening that the 
 under clerkship at the Gas and Water Works was
 
 LADY ADA CHILVERS. 311 
 
 vacant by the removal of Mr. Godfrey Forest to the 
 dockyard, " there was at once a post, worth a good 
 hundred and fifty pounds a year, with perquisites, for 
 a young fellow to step into, at all events till some- 
 thing more to his liking turned up for him." 
 
 Alan Lambert loved the Arts. His whole life 
 from childhood had been spent, as you might say, 
 in the very lap of them, as will be further explained 
 by and bye ; and it cost him a pang to leave his 
 " nice left-hand light, every morning, in Molly's top 
 room, and his dear old easel and paints and pencils — 
 now dearer to him than ever, since he found what 
 delight his charming pupil also took in them, — for 
 about as unpoetical a pursuit, down in that dark, 
 dirty town as could well be conceived. But, as Mr. 
 Lyons truly said, there was " intrinsic worth in 
 certainties ; and the sweet pleasures of Molly and 
 Hester's rural retreat would in nowise be diminished, 
 when business was over, by having seen nothing all 
 day to compare with it." 
 
 So "good bye, Mrs. Finch," said Mr. Alan to 
 her at the garden gate, with a hearty shake of the 
 hand, the first morning he set off, with a hearts-ease 
 in his button-hole, on his " new career of usefulness," 
 as Lady Ada called it ; " good bye ! good bye ! I 
 shall be home, mind, long before dark. Yes, and as
 
 312 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 the days lengthen, see how many hours I shall have 
 to do anything I like in, before bed? I don't mean 
 to be idle of an evening, my dear Mrs. Finch, I can 
 tell you ! How provoking, eh, if the tailor don't 
 send me my new dress-suit by Friday — Miss 
 Rachel's birthday." 
 
 Which bringing us back to where we were at the 
 beginning of the chapter, viz., within eye and ear- 
 reach of the buzz and flutter afloat, in expectation 
 of the grand doings to come off so soon at Grey stone 
 House, in commemoration of that joyous event, 
 I must beg the reader's pardon for tarrying a little 
 on the way, to take by the hand a very deserving 
 young fellow, in the person of the youthful artist, 
 Alan Lambert, who humbly asked to be introduced 
 at this juncture, — and, without further digression, go 
 on with my story.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Rachel's day before the ball. 
 
 Mr. Lyons liked plenty of light and air in his 
 house ; and had taken care, in reconstructing Grey- 
 stone House, to make it as cheerful and healthy as 
 possible. In the BalfouiV time it was a handsome, 
 solid, roomy structure; but the windows were 
 unproportionably small, in comparison with the 
 thickness and width of the walls ; and though the 
 various chambers were capacious and lofty enough, 
 the house was ill ventilated, and unless the blinds 
 were up and a bright sun shone into it, had by no 
 means a bright aspect, or wholesome smell prevalent, 
 especially when the moist winds came whistling up 
 from the water. 
 
 There was the genuine Balfour cut of business 
 about it, however; and though Mr. Lyons could 
 have chosen other localities in Shiphampton whereon
 
 314 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 he would have preferred to have built himself a 
 house to live in, he was too sensible a man not to 
 know the value of a good name and popular tradi- 
 tions, and what they had done for the far-famed 
 House the sole inheritor of which he had now 
 become in so sudden and unexpected a manner. 
 
 But there could be no harm, while the restorations 
 were going on — rendered necessary by the rage and 
 wanton mischief of the rabble after the murder — in 
 making such salutary alterations and improvements 
 as the case called for, and modern usages required. 
 So the battered walls were enlarged, and the 
 smashed windows replaced with new ones of the most 
 approved kind, and gas brought into the basement 
 and hall and on the landings, which quite illumin- 
 ated the interior at night, and in the winter helped 
 to warm it. Not only, too, were you brightly 
 lighted from the hall to the attics, but the effect was 
 extremely elegant. For what art could do, to please 
 the eye, had been done with great taste and no little 
 cost ; so that, from its chastened lustre, you should 
 suppose it was produced by the finest oil, not gas, 
 beautifully burning as it did in those curious Chinese 
 glass-globes, cunningly suspended from the walls 
 like floating balls of fire. 
 
 Those charming Chinese lamps were wonderful
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 315 
 
 favourites of Miss Rachel's ; and her only regret, 
 respecting them, in reference to the brilliant display 
 her father was bent on making on her birthday, 
 chiefly to please their grand friends at Buck Park, 
 was that there were not enough for the purpose, 
 and no possibility of adding to them but by sending 
 to Paris. What was to be done ? With the utmost 
 dispatch, how could they get them in time for 
 Friday ? " It might be done," said Mr. Lyons, 
 "by a journey there and back with expedition." 
 
 " If so," said Alan Lambert, " give me my 
 instructions, sir, and if it can be done, it shall be ! 
 It will be all in the way of business ; and I 
 pant to show you what a nimble lamp-lighter I 
 can be." 
 
 It was a great deal more than Rachel had bar- 
 gained for in her own mind. It had never occurred 
 to her to lose Alan Lambert at such a busy moment ; 
 and she declared they " could do very well without 
 more lamps." But Alan had heard her tell Jane 
 Rosse " how she wished she could get them, to 
 complete the enchanting effect Lady Thornhill said 
 it would have to thus illuminate the conservatory 
 so beautifully;" and was off and on his way to 
 Paris for them before Rachel was told he was 
 gone.
 
 316 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " He will not be back in time, I am afraid/' said 
 Rachel, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes, he will," differed her father ; and to prove 
 that he thought so, he set the gas-fitters to work 
 with all speed to lay on the necessary pipes and 
 apparatus, and get ready what else would be wanted 
 to complete his plans by Mr. Lambert's return. 
 
 There was but one house in Paris where it was 
 likely Mr. Lambert would find what he sought for. 
 But not only did he possess himself of the lamps in 
 question, of the various sizes and shapes required, 
 but brought back with him sundry other illuminative 
 "works of Art," &c, &c, as he called them, .which 
 would help to "astonish the folks." Moreover, he 
 re-entered the boudoir in Greystone House, to lay 
 his treasures before Miss Rachel, in such ample 
 time for what else had to be done by Friday night, 
 that it gave him two clear days to personally evince 
 his artistic skill, together with Miss Falconbridge 
 and Miss Rosse, in the effective distribution of his 
 pretty illuminative devices. So that when the whole 
 was pronounced by Miss Rachel " perfect !" it was 
 easy to see who stood very high in her estimation, 
 as one who had "such a plain, simple, truthful, 
 earnest, straightforward way of doing what he 
 undertook, without fuss or parade ;" which, as Faith
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 317 
 
 quite agreed, was " of infinite importance to a young 
 man who had to make his way in the world.' 5 
 
 Mr. Lyons smiled his placid approvals. When 
 the gas being turned on from the main, for experi- 
 ment sake, the effect was so startling ! that they all 
 stood gazing at it like great babies — the calm, 
 grave, epicurean, unemotional Mr. Angelo Lyons 
 included. 
 
 But Faith was most interested in their " nimble 
 young lamp-lighter," as he called himself, and "the 
 noble, yet modest, way," as she expressed it, " that 
 he said and did everything in ; so different to most 
 handsome young fellows who had nice faces and 
 figures to be proud of, and, yet, fell so short when 
 they essayed to make themselves useful." 
 
 And it was exactly in that light Rachel Lyons was 
 regarding him, with eyes, young as hers were, that 
 glowed with no less appreciation of the pains he had 
 taken to please her, because few words of thanks 
 escaped her. Possibly it was more in accordance 
 with Rachel's disposition to leave unexpressed what 
 she most felt ; and possibly Alan Lambert asked for 
 no surer acknowledgments of her satisfaction than 
 what he fancied she meant to convey by such kind 
 looks as she gave him, instead of words, as best 
 harmonised with her quiet character. But with all
 
 318 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 the pleasure it gave him to win one of Miss Rachel's 
 encouraging smiles, while at work for her, Alan 
 Lambert would have equally done his best to succeed 
 in what he had set his mind on, if she had been the 
 plainest girl in the parish instead of the prettiest. 
 His pride was far more to please himself, in what 
 he was doing, than any one else ; short of which, 
 not even all that Miss Jane Rosse or Lady Thornhill 
 or Lady Ada Chilvers could say, in addition to Miss 
 Rachel's sweet approbation, would have taken a 
 drop of blood from his open, frank, fearless brow, 
 or mantled it with a vain thought, if it had clashed 
 with his convictions to believe them. Truthfulness 
 and integrity were thereon written so intelligibly, 
 that, from the first time she saw him, Rachel told 
 Jane Rosse, as they passed him, sketching, in their 
 donkey- chaise, " how noble looking" she thought 
 him, and " how proud Molly and Hester were of 
 their lodger;" and "how talented" he was; but 
 " how pale and thin, too, which was because, poor 
 fellow ! he had to work so hard for a living." 
 
 Nor is Rachel Lyons the first wealthy young 
 heiress by many who has felt her maidenly interests 
 first awakened by struggling worth. True, Rachel 
 was but fifteen years old at the time we are speaking 
 of, and as innocently simple in her worldly experi-
 
 ences as might be ; but, like her father, she had 
 quick perceptions, and an observant eye, and deep- 
 thinking mind, coupled with the warm, fond, gentle, 
 generous heart of her mother ; and it was often a 
 cause of more solicitude to her governess, Miss 
 Falconbridge, than she cared to tell any one but 
 Lady Ada, that " her beloved pupil was as forward 
 as she was, for her age." 
 
 Alan Lambert's pale and thin looks evidently 
 interested the richest heiress in Hampshire. But, 
 truth to speak, he was very handsome ! and " so 
 gentlemanly!" Molly said ; and "with an air and 
 manner about him," according to Hester, . "no 
 young nobleman in the land but might be proud of ! 
 See how he behaved to those whose likenesses he 
 took. Had he a mercenary motive in it ? Didn't 
 that shew ? All his aims were great, and raised 
 him high above everything that was mean and 
 sordid." It was fine praise of Molly and Hester's \ 
 so no wonder the young ladies smiled kindly on 
 him when they saw him toiling on the hill-side for 
 his bread. 
 
 In truth, Rachel Lyons' sympathies were always 
 enlisted rather by anything that appealed to her 
 pity than her pride. She could not but note those 
 pale, thin looks of the young artist's at Molly's
 
 320 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 cottage, and the well-worn suit he went abroad in, 
 with his head as up, and his step as light and 
 bounding, as if, instead of having next to nothing 
 in his pockets, he was weighed down with the 
 wealth of the world. How vividly it contrasted with 
 her father's ceaseless thoughtfulness, and care-worn 
 brow, and measured tread, to the tune of his count- 
 less riches. " With all his wealth," Rachel said to 
 herself, "when did I ever see him look really- 
 happy?" And meet Alan Lambert where you 
 would, with rigid economy stamped on him from his 
 hat to his shoes, and with a face and figuue you 
 longed to fill out with good food, if you could have 
 done it, anyhow, unknown to his pride, — what a 
 beaming smile you got from him in return for your 
 shake of the hand; what treasures was he master of 
 who carried such a heart as that in his bold open, 
 honest, happy face, which neveE appeared to know a 
 care, unless it might be, if he loved you, lest, by a 
 glance or sigh, you scarcely appreciated, may be, 
 the sanguine hopes he had of speedy distinction as 
 much as he did himself. 
 
 It was so new, too, to Rachel, for poverty to ad- 
 dress her in any but terms of praise. " From in- 
 fancy she had been told little else but how beautiful ! 
 how good ! how gifted ! how faultless ! how favoured
 
 Rachel's day before the ball. 321 
 
 by fortune ! she was. But, as in Zoe Ghrimes's case, 
 of Barbadoes, it had not made Rachel Lyons a fool. 
 For up to the age of ten she had a fond and watch- 
 ful mother's eye ever over her, or it would have fared 
 little better with her perhaps than it had done with 
 Zoe, left as she was to the besotted love of a father 
 who, in blindly indulging her every whim, considered 
 he was only doing his duty to himself, as her only 
 parent. True, Otto Ghrimes and Angelo Lyons were 
 widely different men ; but it may be questioned 
 whether, with his peculiar principles and princely 
 habits, Angelo Lyons would have been even as good 
 a sole surviving parent to Rachel, as Otto Ghrimes, 
 the voluptuary, was to his daughter, had Rachel been 
 deprived as early in life as Zoe was of a mother's 
 love ? Clearly, what of piety, and the patience and 
 meekness and kind-heartedness it inculcated, Rachel's 
 daily life and conduct gave evidence of, she inherited 
 from her mother ; wanting w r hich, she might have 
 been as keen-witted and polished and prosperous as 
 her father was, and had little more of the reader's 
 regard than Zoe Ghrimes; unless there had been 
 that in her inborn nature, derived from that gentle 
 mother, which was proof against all assaults from 
 within or without. 
 
 What Rachel most admired in Mr. Lambert was 
 vol i. 2L
 
 322 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 his plain spoken truthfulness, and practicality, and 
 hatred of false-shewing in any shape. Rachel was 
 eminently a matter-of-fact girl, though highly sensi- 
 tive and susceptible ; and was always regretting to 
 Lady Ada and Miss Falconbridge her "inability, 
 rich and powerful as her father was, to do any real 
 good, such as her heart told her she ought to do, 
 with the unbounded means she had at command. 
 For her father denied her nothing she asked him for. 
 And, yet, she was not happy, as happy as she thought 
 riches ought to make their possessors, if they were 
 the earthly blessings they w^ere called. 
 
 " Oh, Lady Ada !" she would sometimes exclaim, 
 with flushed cheeks and almost tears in her eyes, 
 ' l it may be sinful of me to say so, but it's true — I 
 feel I should be happier, far happier, if I were poor 
 and had to earn my bread/ 5 
 
 " And, pray, why, Rachel ?" would Lady Ada ask, 
 with a mother's fondness. " If we rightly use 
 the talents entrusted to us, whether many or few, 
 duties done should make us happy enough." 
 
 But it did not remove the cloud from Rachel's 
 brow. And as Lady Ada's aim was always to en- 
 courage her to open her heart to her, when so in- 
 clined, she so framed her replies as best to induce 
 her so to do ; which usually ended in Rachel's throw r -
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 323 
 
 ing her arms affectionately round her, and promis- 
 ing to " mind all she said, and be as contented and 
 thankful as possible." 
 
 What it was brought Rachel to The Priory the 
 day before her birthday, might well puzzle Lady Ada, 
 knowing as she did how busy they were at Greystone 
 House, preparing for the ball. But there Rachel 
 Lyons was. And all Lady Ada had to do was to 
 be perfectly assured that her sweet young friend had 
 her motives for so acting, and that, if she desired to 
 be made acquainted with them, she must let her com- 
 municate them in her own way. It was the o^ily 
 way with Rachel. Most girls would have been in a 
 state of high excitement on such an occasion — not 
 so Rachel. Jane Rosse was wild about it ; and per- 
 haps Jane's was the more enviable state of mind of 
 the two. Natures differ. For though no two girls 
 could love each other more sincerely than did 
 Jane and Rachel, two greater opposites in mind and 
 person never existed. 
 
 " Jane, I want to see Lady Ada to-day," was 
 Rachel's sudden resolve while they w ? ere in the midst 
 of some exquisite classic floral- wreaths for the marble 
 busts of Homer and Socrates, in the hall. " So go on, 
 dear, till I return ; for there's Felix at the door with 
 the ponies to take me there.''' 
 
 21-2
 
 324 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Oh, Rachel ! what a pity to go to-day, and we 
 have the Apollo, and Venus, and Cupid, and I don't 
 know how many more to make wreaths for, my darl- 
 ing, and we haven't got half flowers enough. But 
 if you must, you must ! Only mind and don't forget 
 to bring back all the nicest flowers you can lay hands 
 on, and plenty of ivy, and some lilies, darling, if you 
 can find any, and myrtle, and little bud roses — you 
 know — good bye, sweetest ! Don't be long, there's 
 a dear ! Make Darby and Joan step out — the fat, 
 lazy beauties — and you may do it, there and back, 
 in two hours at most, allowing an hour for everything 
 else needful — not forgetting the flowers, mind 
 that !" 
 
 And after talking of the next day's grand doings, 
 about which all the town was astir, and how kind it 
 was of Mr. Lambert to take the pains and trouble 
 for them he was doing : — 
 
 " Oh, Lady Ada 1" exclaimed Rachel, as the 
 reader has just read, "I feel I should be happier, far 
 happier, if I were poor and had to earn my bread." 
 
 It was so in accordance with the many similar out- 
 bursts which Lady Ada had before heard from the 
 same lips, that she saw in a moment what was press- 
 ing most on her young friend's pensive mind — not 
 what was engaging gay, laughing, light-hearted
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 325 
 
 Jane's, among the pretty flowers and festoons at 
 home, and the beautiful new presents Mr. Lyons kept 
 bringing her ; but solely, " why it was, when every- 
 thing was being done that wealth could purchase to 
 please her, that heart of hers was as heavy as if 
 something disastrous were going to happen, instead 
 of delightful r 
 
 " My sweet child/'' smilingly reproved Lady Ada, 
 " how can you talk so ? Who has a better right to 
 be happy than yourself ? I cannot lay a selfish act 
 to your charge. If I could, I should understand 
 you better. You ought to be so happy, Rachel, so 
 very, very happy ! unless I am woefully deceived.'''' 
 
 " I know I ought," said Rachel, meeting Lady 
 Ada's full look at her with glistening eyes ; " and it 
 seems shockingly ungrateful of me to complain. 
 But why is my heart so heavy, when it ought to be 
 as light and gay as Jane Rosse's is, and as I wish it 
 was r 
 
 "My love, there is no necessity for you to be Jane 
 Rosse, nor for Jane to be Rachel Lyons. Jane's is 
 a merry heart. And so may Rachel's be, in its own 
 way, quite as merry as Jane's ; and, yet, love the shade 
 more than the sunshine, to think rather than to talk, 
 and to quietly discourse the night away in a snug 
 corner, perhaps, if it might best please itself, in
 
 326 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 preference to much dancing. My sweet child, the 
 world is wide enough for us all to indulge our right 
 natural likings and dislikings in it, with much uni- 
 versal joy and profit, if we will only be reasonable 
 creatures. Our Maker requires that of us. In sin 
 only need there be sadness — sadness, my dear child, 
 beyond the moment our minds are true to themselves. 
 We are never true to ourselves, never true to the 
 Divine purpose for which we were made, Rachel, 
 when we are unduly exalted or unduly cast down. 
 Though , of the two, I should think a too gay heart, 
 in a young breast, must be more pleasing to the 
 Almighty than a too grave one. You know, my 
 love, very well what I mean ?" 
 
 "Ofe, yes!" 
 
 " And agree with me, that of all girls on earth 
 who ought to be thankful and happy, that one is 
 yourself?" 
 
 " Do you call dear papa a happy man ?" and as 
 she put the question in a sunk tone, Rachel's lips 
 slightly trembled, as if a chord had been unwittingly 
 struck by it that pained her, but why or wherefore 
 she hardly knew. 
 
 " I suppose," smiled Lady Ada, after an instant's 
 reflection, " your papa would scarcely agree with us 
 if we tried to convince him to the contrary. Defi-
 
 Rachel's day before the ball. 307 
 
 nitions differ so, as to that little word happiness ? 
 Did you ever hear two alike ? I have mine ; and you 
 have yours ; and your papa has his. And why not, 
 if in enjoying what is our own, we neither take 
 from our neighbours, for it, nor from God's glory ? 
 Then we may safely indulge ourselves, may we 
 not V 
 
 It touched another chord more in harmony w T ith 
 Rachel's heart ; and for a little while she sat as if 
 deeply struck by it. Nor was Lady Ada in any 
 hurry to break the spell. Then brisking up, as 
 though full of something else which it had called to 
 mind — 
 
 " Shall I tell you," said Rachel, with glowing 
 cheeks and eyes full of earnestness, " what I often 
 think I would be, if I had all dear papa's money to 
 do as I liked with, and no love for you, Lady Ada, 
 nor Jane, nor any one else, in particular, to stop me 
 — you would never guess." 
 
 " What, my darling V 
 
 " A sceur de charite. Yes, I feel I would, as true 
 as God now hears me say it." 
 
 Lady Ada stared at her. 
 
 " I mean it — I do indeed — Oh, yes, I do !" 
 
 " Nonsense ! my love. Sentimental silliness ! 
 Who or what has put such foolish fancies into your
 
 80S ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 head ? Pretty notions indeed for a young girl of 
 your age, her father's only child, and heiress to the 
 finest fortune in Hampshire ! Are you crazy ? 
 Sceur de charite ! Is there no way, my dear, but 
 that for you to be useful and do your womanly duty, 
 when called on to fulfil your rightful mission, as, 
 maybe, a wife, and a mother, and the mistress of 
 a family ? Ridiculous, my dear \" and Lady Ada 
 said it with all the more firmness, because of the 
 peculiar girl she well knew she had to deal with in 
 Rachel — one who, like her father, thought well be- 
 fore she spoke, and who never acted from mere im- 
 pulse. 
 
 But Rachel was by no means embarrassed by this 
 cold reception of her heart-felt avowal. On the con- 
 trary, Lady Ada saw plainly, by the fervent fire of 
 her eyes and her compressed lips, so like her father's 
 when he meant what he said, that if she had her 
 mother's sweet, meek, patient, uncomplaining nature 
 in her, to some extent, she had also his fixity of re- 
 solution, and in the present instance was " proud of 
 it, too." "Wherefore she was of opinion that it be- 
 hoved her to combat such ' nonsense,' as she pur- 
 posely called it, and so nip in the bud what she fore- 
 saw, if not stoutly battled with, would acquire such
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 329 
 
 deep root, that bye and bye perhaps nothing could 
 shake it. 
 
 " Indeed I mean what I say," repeated Rachel, 
 calmly, and with a smile at the grave face Lady Ada 
 put on. 
 
 " May be now, my love \ but you will grow wiser 
 as you grow older, I hope, and see the folly of it. It 
 is always folly for young people to blindly embrace 
 pursuits for which they have no special call nor 
 qualifications. Clergymen, for instance, should feel 
 that call, and so should nurses, or never presume to 
 be either. It is no slight presumption for a young 
 man to become the one, or for a young woman to be- 
 come the other, without a due knowledge of the duties 
 involved, and a taste for them. They ought to seri- 
 ously feel the call, I mean, before they undertake it." 
 
 " And which if they do," replied Rachel, just in 
 the unemotional tone her father would have said it in, 
 " how delighted, and how right, too, they must be, 
 to obey it \" 
 
 " Ah, my love, you speak from the best of feel- 
 ings ! and very unselfish and good and kind and 
 generous it is of you to so feel. But wait for two 
 or three years, till you have seen a little more of 
 life, before you talk of quitting the social position 
 you ought to fill and adorn. And fa» what ? Very
 
 330 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 likely to be justly lauded for your self-sacrificing 
 zeal and goodness and benevolence, but, at the same 
 time, to leave undone, may be, those no less essen- 
 tial duties imposed on you by your rank in life, and 
 the means given you to properly uphold it. I have 
 no right, my love, to try for name and fame abroad, 
 even in the best cause, to the neglect of my duties 
 at home. There is always enough of good, and 
 over, for us to do in our own spheres. As women, 
 especially, we need not travel far, my love, to be 
 reminded of much we have left behind us undone. 
 But what sort of subject is this, my darling, to-day ? 
 Of all days to be talking of sick rooms and sad 
 faces ! when we ought to be merrily preparing our 
 ball-dresses and practising our steps for to-morrow. 
 Apropos of which, you and Jane Rosse will be 
 dressed alike." 
 
 li Exactly !" smiled Rachel, evidently pleased at 
 the thought. 
 
 " How nice ! Well, now we are talking sound 
 sense. And you will want some more flowers and 
 evergreens ? Come, then, and take home the car- 
 riage, full. That's sensible, too ! And Mr. Lambert has 
 got the new lamps, you say, and is upon the ladder, 
 with his coat off, hammering away for you ? Noble 
 fellow ! Oh, yes ! and Percy Thornhill is coming
 
 rachel's day before the ball. 331 
 
 down, if he can get leave ? so what a number of 
 beaux you will have." 
 
 Rachel was thinking, seemingly, of something 
 else, by replying — 
 
 " What do you suppose Mr. Lambert said to dear 
 Jane, when she was tying one of Jennet's aprons 
 round him, to save his trousers ?" 
 
 " My love, am I a witch ?" 
 
 " That he couldn't possibly come to the ball to- 
 morrow, if the tailor didn't send him home his new 
 clothes." 
 
 Lady Ada was en desespoir ! 
 
 Eachel heaved a scarcely audible sigh. 
 
 " Mr. Niggles must scarcely be aware, my love, 
 what would be the terrible consequences of any such 
 fatal breach of faith on his part ; for — " 
 
 "Yes," caught up Rachel, " he promised Mr. 
 Lambert he should have them fur certain on Friday. 
 Molly told Faith so, when she was in town/ 5 
 
 " I suppose," smiled Lady Ada, " it would 
 hardly be correct if I dropped a word about it in 
 Mr. Nugent Niggles's ear when I am there to-day 
 to order Robin's new livery ? In strict propriety, 
 the thing seems hardly feasible. But — he wants 
 the suit home ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course !"
 
 332 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 " Must have it, or he can't go to the ball ?" 
 
 " So he positively told dear Jane." 
 
 " Out of all etiquette, that's true, my darling, for 
 ladies to go to gentlemen's tailors. But, as your 
 papa says, ' what is to be, will be ;' and if it's fated 
 that Robin's livery shall be ordered to-day, who's 
 to tell what else may happen? Any how, come 
 what will of it, you see, my love, I shall wash my 
 hands of the scandal ? You won't blame me, will 
 you, darling ?" 
 
 "Not if Mr. Niggles sends them home in time. 
 But you know he may suppose Mr. Lambert has got 
 lots of things ; and Mary Finch says he hasn't. It 
 would be such a pity, wouldn't it, Lady Ada, for 
 him not to be there, after all the pains he has 
 taken for us ? But really I must now say good- 
 bye, or Jane will think I am never coming." 
 
 " Dear, strange girl ! as singular almost, in 
 some things, as her father," mentally exclaimed 
 Lady Ada, as Darby and Joan, with their carriage- 
 load of flowers and evergreens, rattled over the 
 heath homewards. " What an organ of conflicting 
 emotions is that young, yearning heart of hers ! 
 Yearning for what ? Not for what most young 
 hearts pant for, for she has it all. All ? No, no, 
 not all. Or why must she be running away from
 
 Rachel's day before the ball. 333 
 
 those happy thoughts of to-morrow, which Jane 
 Rosse is so wild about, to come and talk to me about 
 sick rooms, and sceurs de ckarite, and 'how much 
 happier she would be if she were poor, instead of 
 rich, and had to earn her bread V And to-morrow 
 will be her birth-day ; and all the town are mad with 
 joy about it ! What possesses her ? Not her father's 
 princely greed of gain ; for ' it pains her/ she says, 
 ' when she is told how rich she will be, without so 
 much as an effort on her own part towards it/ 
 Strange girl ! strange daughter of a strange father ! 
 But how beautiful ! how fascinatingly lovely she is ! 
 spite of those self -searching moods of hers that 
 spring from — what, I wonder ? Not anything of 
 the kind that she inherits from her mother. Faith 
 Lincoln declares it. Her mother would have been 
 the happiest of the happy, but for ber peculiar 
 husband's irreligion. Ah, what a source of misery 
 was that free-thinking, sceptical spirit of Angelo 
 Lyons's to his gentle, pious, loving wife. And in 
 how many other homes, besides theirs, is it the 
 fountain source of more tears and wretchedness 
 than the direst poverty ever caused ? Thank God ! 
 I have not that to add to my griefs, when I think 
 of my poor lost Cecil, and how many troubles might 
 have been spared us if we had both of us led a more
 
 334 ANGELO LYONS. 
 
 Christian life. Ah me ! No, not for ten times the 
 wealth with which Angelo Lyons could endow me, 
 if I would be his wife — should that be his wish — 
 would I give my hand at the altar to a man who, 
 while he pronounced the words put into his mouth 
 by the minister, because he must do it, as little 
 believed that he was responsible for them to his 
 God, as that he was bound to love, and comfort, and 
 honour, and keep me in sickness and in health, 
 and, forsaking all others, keep only unto me, when 
 it seemed good to him to do otherwise. Yes, and 
 how likely it is that that sweet girl, Rachel, resem- 
 bling her mother so much, should, from constant in- 
 tercourse with a strange-minded man like her father, 
 feel how utterly powerless his wealth is to give her 
 peace. If so, there is a clue at once to it all. It must 
 be so. For though the Gold cannot give it, God 
 can. Yes, and she feels He will. Which, perhaps, 
 is what is perpetually pressing on her so, when she 
 says, with almost tears in her eyes, how " useless she 
 feels herself, and how much happier she thinks she 
 should be if she had to work for her bread — if she 
 were a sceur de charite. Sceur de charitt, indeed ! 
 "What, with that leap of the heart, and those young 
 eyes glowing as they did at the thought of being 
 dressed like Jane, and of poor Alan Lambert, too,
 
 racbel's day before the ball. 335 
 
 without any clothes at all to go in. No love of this 
 world in Rachel Lyons ? Oh, yes ! as much as there 
 is ceaseless fear of what may come after it in her 
 father, with all his free thinking ;" — meditating on 
 which, Lady Ada ordered her basket carriage to be 
 brought round to take her to the Hall, and from 
 thence to Mr. Nugent Niggles, for Robin's livery. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 WMiye-. PRINTER, GFTLDFOTtD, SfRRKV.
 
 3
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084217311