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THE GILBERTS & TIIEIR GUESTS. 
 
 A STORY OF HOMELY ENGLISH LIFE, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 By JULIA DAY, 
 
 Author of "The Old Engagement.' 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 ILontJon: 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISFILR, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 
 1858. 
 
 [^The right of Translation is reserved.'\ 
 

THE 
 
 GILBERTS & THEIR GUESTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " No more tea for me, my dear," said Mr. Gilbert 
 to his wife, setting down bis cup on the large, 
 round table, where the shining urn was pleasantly 
 hissing, and at which his family were seated en- 
 joying their evening meal, " no more tea for me. 
 Andrew, my boy," he continued, turning to his 
 son, a youth of some sixteen years of age, " we 
 must not stop idling here, however agreeable it 
 may be, we must go back to the office." 
 
 "Already!" said Mrs. Gilbert, looking com- 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
6 THE GILBERTS 
 
 passionately at her husband, " and T see that 
 you are suffering from that sad, wearisome pain 
 in the head." 
 
 " I am," he answered, " but nevertheless I 
 must go to work," and followed by his son, he 
 passed out of the room. 
 
 The girls, who had been chatting and laughing 
 together, continued their lively conversation, but 
 Mrs. Gilbert did not, as usual, take part in their 
 cheerfulness; she sat for awhile silent, and with 
 an expression of anxiety on her countenance ; and 
 it was not till Janet, the neat little parlour-maid, 
 had cle.ired the table, trimmed the lights, and 
 briskly stirred the fire, and the two elder girls 
 Lad begun industriously to apply themselves to 
 the tasks, with which the family work-basket fur- 
 nished them.thatshe was rousedfrom her abstracted 
 mood. Little Rhoda, the youngest of the party, 
 coming softly beside her, put into her hands a 
 ball of white wool and the ivory knitting-needles, 
 which it was her custom dexterously to ply 
 during the leisure of the evening. Mrs. Gilbert 
 pressed a kiss on the forehead of her little 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 7 
 
 daughter, and almost mechanically began to 
 work, but as she did so, unconsciously she drew 
 a long breathy which seemed very like a sigh. 
 
 " Mamma," said Ehoda, who still stood beside 
 her, " you will want the scarlet wool soon, what 
 a beautiful shawl it will be! and how proud 
 Emily will be to wear it." 
 
 " That I shall indeed," said the eldest girl, 
 looking up brightly from her task. 
 
 " What a handsome shawl Charlotte Harris 
 had on to-day," said her sister Fanny; "lam 
 sure it must have cost a great many guineas. I 
 felt quite ashamed of my old plaid by the side 
 of it." 
 
 " Mr. Harris has some right to dress his 
 daughters expensively," remarked Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " And yet he is only a solicitor like papa," 
 rejoined Fanny. 
 
 " But he has ten times more business than 
 papa has," said Emily, "only see what a num- 
 ber of clerks he keeps." 
 
 '' And what style he lives in," added Fanny, 
 *' what a handsome carriage he drives, and as to 
 
8 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mrs. Harris and Charlotte and Eliza tliey seem 
 quite to look down upon us." 
 
 " Your father will never be able to live as 
 Mr. Harris lives," said Mrs Gilbert, " he is too 
 conscientious to grow rich." 
 
 "Yes," said Emily, stopping short in her work, 
 and proudly lifting her head, " Papa is called the 
 honest lawyer all over the town; good old Davis 
 has told me that a hundred times." 
 
 '' Ah, poor old Davis !'' sighed Mrs. Gilbert, 
 " I wish with all my heart your father had been 
 able to keep him." 
 
 " So do I," said Emily, " and I am sure die 
 .good old man would gladly have worked on in 
 the office for nothing, if his little savings had 
 been enough for him to live on." 
 
 " I can go on with the comforter that I began 
 knitting for him, now I have finished winding 
 this wool for mamma," said Rhoda. 
 
 " Do so, my love ; the good soul will be 
 pleased with your kindness, and will be proud to 
 wear the work of his little favourite," answered 
 Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
AND THEIU GUESTS. \) 
 
 *' Mamma," asked Emily, " do you think it 
 was Edmund's extravagance that obliged papa 
 to part with poor Davis ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear; the payment of your brother's 
 debts, together with the expenses of his outfit 
 and passage money, left your father, for this 
 year at least, without the means of affording 
 himself a clerk." 
 
 "Poor dear Edmund," cried Emily, "by this 
 time he must be half-way to New Zealand." 
 
 " Andrew is I hope beginning to be a little 
 useful in the office," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " I daresay he is," rejoined Emily, " but he 
 will never be what Edmund might have been; 
 he has not his talents." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Gilbert, " your father says 
 Andrew's abilities are of a very moderate order; 
 but I am much mistaken if he has not good 
 sense enough to keep in the right path, and if 
 so it will be of more worrh than all his brother's 
 cleverness." 
 
 " It is my belief that Edmund will turn out a 
 fine character yet, one of these days," said Emily. 
 
 B 5 
 
10 THE GILBERTS 
 
 "Oh, Emil}," cried Fannv, "you are always 
 so hopeful." 
 
 " That is why I am so much happier than 
 you are, as you continually insist is the case." 
 
 " You don't feel things as I do," said Fanny. 
 
 " No, I don't feel that because there are clouds 
 to-day there will be no blue sky to-morrow." 
 
 Fanny sighed and made no reply. 
 
 " My dear girls," said Mrs. Gilbert, after a 
 short pause, " J do wisli we could hit on any plan 
 of lightening your father's labour." 
 
 " Oh, so do T, mamma," exclaimed Emily ; 
 ''but what can we do?" 
 
 " In the first place we must all be as economical 
 as possible," answered Mrs. Gilbert ; " and then 
 I have thought of a plan by which your father 
 might be enal)led to afford a salary to a clerk. 
 You can recollect that before I married your 
 father I was living here at the vicarage with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Maynard/' 
 
 " To be sure we can," said Emily, " our own 
 poor m:imma usjd to take us there very often to 
 see you. It was a long time ago." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 11 
 
 ^' Yes, it was ten years ago," answered Mrs. 
 Gilbert, " and I had then lived tliere three 
 years." 
 
 ^' And three years afterwards," said Emily, 
 with an affectionate smile, but her eyes full of 
 tears, " you came here to make us all happy 
 after our great sorrow." 
 
 Ehoda threAv aside her work and clasped her 
 arms round Mrs. Gilbert's neck; '' you have been 
 such a kind mamma," she whispered. 
 
 '' And you such a dear good child," said Mrs. 
 Gilbert, fondly returning the caress. 
 
 " Do sit down and be still, Ehoda, you are in- 
 terrupting mamma," cried Fanny, impatiently. 
 
 Ehoda silently went back to her place and 
 took up her knitting, but for a moment her little 
 fingers trembled and her cheeks flushed. 
 
 " Well, mamma," said Emily, who had re- 
 covered from her transient emotion, " what was 
 it you were going to tell us?" 
 
 "It was this, my love: for the home which 
 was afforded me at the vicarage I paid one hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds a year, and a very com- 
 
12 
 
 THE GILBERTS 
 
 fortable and happy home I had there. Now, it 
 has occurred to me that if we could meet with a 
 lady to live with us on the same terms, this ad- 
 dition to our income mi^ht obviate the necessity 
 of your dear father's denying himself the as- 
 sistance of a clerk." 
 
 ''Oh, what a dear clever mamma you are! 
 What a delightful scheme it is!" exclaimed 
 Emily. 
 
 " The difficulty will be how to carry it out," 
 said Mrs. Gilbert, '' I am a little doubtful 
 whether your father will consent to the plan, 
 and if he should, wliere are we to find the 
 lady?" 
 
 " Oh, papa will be coaxed over, I am sure," 
 said Emily, ^' and as to the lady, when once we 
 set about it in good earnest I dare say we shall 
 be able to find her." 
 
 "I hope she will not be a cross old maid," 
 cried Fanny. 
 
 " Why should you think she should be an old 
 maid at all," rejoined Emily, " why should she 
 not be an interesting widow or a very charming 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. lo 
 
 young lady, or why should not a delightful per- 
 son like mamma come to live with us?" 
 
 " How I do hate flattery," muttered Fanny. 
 
 *' So do I; you know Fanny that I do," ex- 
 claimed Emily, vehemently. 
 
 " It is a pity that you talk then in such a 
 high flown manner," rejoined her sister; " hut 
 you are for ever flying into some rhapsody or 
 other; I am sure Miss Dale must have thought 
 you wild this morning when you were telling her 
 about Edmund's letter." 
 
 " Oh, mamma," cried Ehoda, " do you think 
 you could persuade Miss Dale to come and live 
 with us?" 
 
 "No, my love; Miss Dale has her own home 
 and her own pursuits." 
 
 '' But I do think," said Emily^ " she might be 
 happier with us than living as she does quite 
 alone, now that she has lost so mucli of her 
 property, and is obliged to live in such a small 
 way. And what two nice rooms we could give 
 her; there is that pleasantest of all pleasant 
 bedruoms, with the pretty chintz furniture, and 
 
14 THE GILBERTS 
 
 the nice grate and marble mantel shelf; and then 
 there is the little back parlour; our study, as we 
 used to call it, so quiet and so comfortable ; snug 
 and warm in the winter, and quite charming in 
 the summer, looking into, what Miss Dale calls 
 our quaint old garden, and with her books and 
 paintings in it, and above all with herself there, 
 what a delightful room it would be." 
 
 '' Now, Emily, what is the use of saying so 
 much about what never can happen ? " cried 
 Eanuy, '' of course Miss Dale would not think of 
 leaving her own home to come and live with us?" 
 
 " No, indeed, Emily, you must not think of 
 realizing anything so agreeable as that would 
 be," said Mrs. Gilbert, " we must be content if 
 we can meet with some stranger who is in search 
 of a home, instead of a friend already provided 
 with one." 
 
 " I declare after thinking of Miss Dale, the 
 very idea of a stranger makes one feel cold," 
 said Emily, with an expressive shrug. 
 
 "Well, I must call that affectation," exclaimed 
 Fanny. 
 
AND THETPv GUESTS. 15 
 
 The hasty rejoinder of her sister was inter- 
 riipted, for at that moment a tolerably loud knock 
 at the street door was heard. 
 
 " Who on earth can that be at this time of the 
 evening?" cried Fanny. 
 
 "Some one come to your father on business 
 most likely," answered Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " No,'' said Emily, " the knock would have been 
 at the office door if it had been that." 
 
 " It is Doctor Basset, perhaps, coming to hear 
 how your father is, with his kind excuse of 
 looking in for half-an-hour's gossip," suggested 
 Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 '^ No, no, it is not his knock," said Emily. 
 
 " I hear some one coming up stairs," whispered 
 Ehoda. 
 
 " Perhaps," observed Fanny, " it is the 
 stranger coming to give Emily a shivering fit in 
 good earnest." 
 
 But when Janet threw open the door and an- 
 nounced " Mr. Surrey," the general exclamation 
 of delight, no less than of surprise, manifestly 
 proved that the visitor who entered was not a 
 stranger. 
 
16 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " This is an unlooked for pleasure," cried Mrs, 
 Gilbert, stepping forward to welcome him with a 
 friendly smile and a cordial pressure of the 
 hand. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Surrey," said Emily, frankly ex- 
 tending her hand also, 'Hhis is quite your old 
 way, giving us such a charming surprise." 
 
 " It is so very long since we have seen you," 
 said Fanny, coming forward in her turn to shake 
 hands. 
 
 " So very long," said Mr. Surrey, ^^ that I 
 seem to be unrecognized by one of my old 
 friends,'' and he stooped down and drew Khoda 
 towards him. " Have you quite forgotten me?" 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered, readily returning his 
 kiss, and locking her small hand in his, " oh, no, 
 I remember you quite well !" 
 
 " And our rambles through the old copse ? 
 and our searching after primroses?" 
 
 "Yes; and the primrose roots are in my 
 garden now, and they will be in flower next 
 month." 
 
 Mr. Surrey, who was a near relation of Mrs. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 17 
 
 Gilbert's, had, from time to time, visited her since 
 her marriage, and her little step-daughter, Rhoda, 
 was an especial favourite with hiai. Simple in 
 his habits and tastes, the society of this unsophis- 
 ticated family was a pleasant relief from the 
 solitude he preferred when immersed in literary 
 pursuits. And now he fell at once into his place 
 in the family circle. 
 
 '' In the pleasure of seeing you so unexpectedly 
 we are cpiite forgetting our hospitality," said Mrs. 
 Gilbert. ^' Have you dined?" 
 
 '' Long ago, but I should have no objection to 
 a cup of tea, and a slice of dry toast or a biscuit." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Emily, laughing, " how well I 
 remember your old liking for a biscuit — a hard, 
 dry biscuit ! I am so glad you are come back 
 just the same as ever ! " 
 
 " Just the same in more ways than in my pre- 
 dilection for a dry biscuit," he answered. 
 
 '' So much the better; I delight in the old ways 
 of old friends," said Emily. 
 
 " Even when the old friends are so unfortunate 
 as to be old bachelors?" 
 
18 THE GILBERTS 
 
 '' Yes, but indeed you don't seem at all like 
 one." 
 
 " We must do our best to comfort him under 
 his misfortune," said Mrs. Gilbert, '' and here 
 comes the tea." 
 
 " This is pleasant," said Mr. Surrey, sitting 
 down to the table, and receiving a cup of tea 
 from the hands of Emily, whilst Rhoda stood 
 smilingly before him, holding a plateful of his 
 favourite biscuits, '^ this is pleasant to find every- 
 thing as kind, and as snug, and as cosy as ever. 
 This is rather better than spending a solitary 
 evening at the hotel." 
 
 '' At the hotel !" exclaimed Mrs. Gilbert, ''you 
 could never think of the hotel, William, with our 
 house close at hand?" 
 
 " I have ordered a bed and left my luggage 
 there," answered Mr. Surrey. 
 
 '' Then, indeed, you must countermand your 
 order, and have your luggage brought here at 
 once." 
 
 "No, no, you are very kind, not toniglit; but 
 I will come to-morrow and spend a week with 
 
AXD THEIR GUESTS. 19 
 
 you before I go on to London. But now I want 
 to know how Mr. Gilbert is?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say lie is not altogether as 
 well as we could wish. But you will like to see 
 him. Ehoda, my dear, run to the office and tell 
 your papa that Mr. Surrey is here." 
 
 And Rhoda skipped out of the room. 
 
 ''My little pet is as charming as ever," said 
 'Mr. Surrey. 
 
 "She is a dear little creature; but you find 
 her less grown than you might have expected; 
 she is extremely small for her years," replied 
 Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " She is but a fairy, certainly." 
 
 " She is still quite childish in her ways, though 
 by no means backward in intellect," said Emily. 
 
 '' And therein lies infinite charm," remarked 
 Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " Unfortunately, she does not grow prettier," 
 said Fanny. 
 
 " There is so much expression in her counte- 
 nance that it leaves nothing to be wished in the 
 way of beauty," he rejoined. 
 
20 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " That is precisely Miss Dale's opinion/' ob- 
 served Emily. 
 
 '' Ah, my friend Miss Dale ! Have you seen 
 her lately?" 
 
 " Only this morning; and, moreover, a certain 
 famous periodical had just come to hand, and 
 we found her, as she expressed it, diving for 
 pearls." 
 
 '' And we knew quite well whose pearls they 
 must be," remarked Fanny. 
 
 Mr. Surrey smiled but said nothing. 
 
 Miss Dale, to whom more than once this 
 evening allusion had been made, was an old 
 friend of Mrs. Gilbert's and had of late years 
 come to reside near her. She was somewhat of 
 an invalid — somewhat of a recluse — and the 
 solitude in which now she usually lived furnished 
 ample opportunity for the mournful retrospec- 
 tion she was but too prone to indulge in. Her 
 present position afforded a sad and striking 
 contrast to that of her early years, when Mrs. 
 Gilbert had first known her, and when she had 
 seemed surrounded by prosperity. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 21- 
 
 A variety of untoward and distressing occur- 
 rences had conduced to this change; but perhaps 
 the most unfortunate circumstance of her life 
 was an engagement formed in her youth with an 
 officer of the Indian army, at that time at 
 home on leave of absence, and who, notwith- 
 standing his fervent attachment to her, was not 
 in the estimation of her family altogether de- 
 serving of the affection she bestowed on him, 
 and their consent to her union with him was 
 therefore long withheld. 
 
 This engagement had proved unpropitious — 
 had been productive of much anxiety, and 
 as time went on had subjected her to that 
 sickness of heart almost inseparable from a pro- 
 longed betrothal. But the sudden rupture of 
 the bond, owing to the violent death, through a 
 terrible accident, of the object of her attachment, 
 and immediately following her brief interview 
 with him on his arrival in England, whither he 
 had at length returned for the express purpose 
 of claiming the fulfilment of her engagement, 
 caused a shock that well nigh brought her 
 
22 THE GILBERTS 
 
 to the grave. It was long before she recovered from 
 this fearful blow, but by degrees the agony of it 
 subsided, and finally was so far conquered by 
 the efforts of her reason, that a chastened sorrow 
 was all that remained. 
 
 Her friends began to hope that she might be 
 induced to receive favourably the addresses of a 
 former suitor, who at this time once more made 
 proposals of marriage to her, but though con- 
 scious of his worth, and grateful for his constancy, 
 she declined his offer ■ and soon after, going into 
 retirement, it appeared that she purposed leading 
 a life of solitude. 
 
 Mr. Surrey's acquaintance with Miss Dale was 
 now of some years standing, although it had not 
 commenced till the most eventful period of her 
 life had passed, and indeed he was but partly 
 cognizant of her earlier history. It was, how- 
 ever, obvious to him that she had endured a great 
 sorrow, and she awakened in his feelings a warm 
 and sympathetic interest. He was ever pleased 
 to find himself in her vicinity, and at the men- 
 tion of her name this evening, he involuntarily 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 23 
 
 fell into thought concerning her. But Mrs. 
 Gilbert presently broke in upon his reverie, with 
 an observation apart from the subject of it, " You 
 still live among books, William ?" she said, en- 
 quiringly. 
 
 Kousing himself from his unsocial meditation, 
 after a momentary pause, he answered, " I have 
 few other companions; but lately I have been 
 wandering among mountains and lakes." 
 
 " You have not lost your love for the study 
 of nature?" 
 
 '^ Must one not, day by day, become more 
 enamoured of such a study?" 
 
 " Yes, with a mind free from care, and with 
 time at one's own disposal." 
 
 '^ Poor mamma seldom allows herself time for 
 even a country walk ; she is too busy at home," 
 said Emily. 
 
 '' My dear, home is my best place." 
 
 " And how are Edmund and Andrew ?" en- 
 quired Mr. Surrey, presently. 
 
 " Edmund is not here now," and after a 
 moment's pause, Mrs. Gilbert added, ''I must 
 
22 THE GILBERTS 
 
 to the grave. Itwaslong before she recovered from 
 this fearful blow, but by degrees the agony of it 
 subsided, and finally was so far conquered by 
 the ejBforts of her reason, that a chastened sorrow 
 was all that remained. 
 
 Her friends began to hope that she might be 
 induced to receive favourably the addresses of a 
 former suitor, who at this time once more made 
 proposals of marriage to her, but though con- 
 scious of his worth, and grateful for his constancy, 
 she declined his offer- and soon after, going into 
 retirement, it appeared that she purposed leading 
 a life of solitude. 
 
 Mr. Surrey's acquaintance with Miss Dale was 
 now of some years standing, although it had not 
 commenced till the most eventful period of her 
 life had passed, and indeed he was but partly 
 cognizant of her earlier history. It was, how- 
 ever, obvious to him that she had endured a great 
 sorrow, and she awakened in his feelings a warm 
 and sympathetic interest. He was ever pleased 
 to find himself in her vicinity, and at the men- 
 tion of her name this evening, he involuntarily 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 23 
 
 fell into thought concerning her. But Mrs. 
 Gilbert presently broke in upon his reverie, with 
 an observation apart from the subject of it, " You 
 still live among books, William ?" she said, en- 
 quiringly. "T^ 
 
 Eousing himself from his unsocial meditation, 
 after a momentary pause, he answered, ''I have 
 few other companions; but lately I have been 
 wandering among mountains and lakes." 
 
 " You have not lost your love for the study 
 of nature?" 
 
 '^ Must one not, day by day, become more 
 enamoured of such a study?" 
 
 " Yes, with a mind free from care, and with 
 time at one's own disposal." 
 
 '' Poor mamma seldom allows herself time for 
 even a country walk ; she is too busy at home," 
 said Emily. 
 
 " My dear, home is my best place." 
 
 " And how are Edmund and Andrew ?" en- 
 quired Mr. Surrey, presently. 
 
 " Edmund is not here now," and after a 
 moment's pause, Mrs. Gilbert added, '^ I must 
 
24 THE GILBERTS 
 
 caution you not to mention his n une tj his 
 fiither, it will only distress him,'* and tlii caution 
 was hardly given when Mr. Gilbert made his 
 appearance, Rhoda dancing before him, and ac- 
 companied by his son Andrew. 
 
 *' 1 am rejoiced to find you here," he cried, 
 giving Mr. Surrey a hearty shake of the hand, 
 *' we had almost despaired of ever racing you 
 again, it is so long since you have voiu^hsafed us 
 a visit.'* 
 
 "It is four whole years," exclaimed Riioda. 
 
 '* Well you must make up for this long ai)sence 
 by giving us as much time as you can possibly 
 spare now." 
 
 " I am going to enjoy a week among you, if 
 you don't get tired of me before hand." 
 
 " A week ! pooh ! pooh ! We are not going 
 to let you off so easily as that, are we, my dear 
 wife?" 
 
 '« I fear we shall have to deal with an obsti- 
 nate man, but we must try what our powers of 
 persuasion can effect." 
 
 " Well, I am sorry that I cannot stay to add 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 25 
 
 mine to them, but I really have some business in 
 hand that I must get through tonight; and here 
 is Andrew just come to say, ' how d'ye do,' and 
 no more, for we are both hard at work. I know 
 you will excuse us, Surrey; Mrs. Gilbert and 
 the girls will do their best to make you comfort- 
 able." 
 
 And so saying, Mr. Gilbert and his son hurried 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Yon lind my husband much altered," ob- 
 served Mrs. Gilbert sadly. 
 
 " He is not looking well certainly," and as he 
 drew his chair nearer to the fire and to Mrs. 
 Gill)ert, she gave him, in a low voice, an outline 
 of the anxieties that were pressing on the family, 
 and of the plan that she had been discussing 
 -with the girls previous to his arrival, and this 
 catching Fanny's eai', she said abruptly, — 
 
 '' Emily has been imaginative enough to sup- 
 pose that Miss Dale would like to come and live 
 with us. What do you think of it, Mr. Sui rey ?" 
 
 '^ I suspect she would prefer the greater freedom 
 
 and tranquillity of a house of her own to a resi- 
 VOL. I. 
 
26 THE GILBERTS 
 
 dence with any of her friends, however highly 
 she might value them. But really I can scarcely 
 presume to offer an opinion on the subject." 
 
 *' Oh ! but you know so well all her likings and 
 dislikings; you are such friends." 
 
 '* I have not seen Miss Dale for a lonsr while." 
 
 " She is painting such a charming picture 
 now," said Emily. 
 
 '' What is the subject?" enquired Mr. Surrey. 
 
 '' Only a little bit of common l;mdsca[,e, which 
 would be nothing at all but for the indescribable 
 chiirni which she contrives to throw into it. I 
 nevei' can understand how she manages to make 
 the most ordinary scenes appear interesting." 
 
 '' She has been selling some of her pictures 
 lately," said Fanny. 
 
 '' My dear, I think we are hardly at liberty to 
 speak of this, although Miss Dale made no secret 
 of it to us," observed Mrs. Gilbert; ''but since 
 you have mentioned it, it is but right to explain 
 that through a kind but injudicious act of hers, 
 her little property has become so reduced that 
 she is forced to turn her talent for painting to 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 27 
 
 profitable account, and through the medium of 
 a friend in London her pictures are, from time to 
 time, quietly and advantageously disposed of." 
 
 "My dear mamma," cried Emily, '^ I feel per- 
 suaded v»'e are only telling Mr. Surrey what he 
 knew long before we did. — Ah! I see by that 
 smile (tf his that it is so." 
 
 " I have certainly heard something of this 
 before," he admitted. 
 
 '' I was sure of it." 
 
 "And in my opinion," he resumed. *' as to 
 this painting scheme of hers she has not health 
 for it." 
 
 ''She is looking well just now," remarked 
 Emily, '' but she was very ill a few montlis ago." 
 
 " And that was owing to her remaining out 
 too late one evening for the sake of finishing a 
 sketch," said Mrs. Gilbert. " Doctor Bassett was 
 then very doubtful of her recovery; and he now 
 insists that extreme care is necessary in order to 
 guard against the recurrence of such an illne s." 
 
 " Doctor Bassett is a favourite friend of hers, 
 is he not?" asked Mr. Surrey. 
 c 2 
 
28 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " She has found him essentially kind and I 
 believe she is amused by the cleverness of his 
 conversation, although thinking differently from 
 him on most subjects," answered Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Doctor Bassett has, or pretends to have, such 
 a thorough contempt for woman's understand- 
 ing," said Fanny. 
 
 '' He is quite in the wrong there," observed 
 Mr. Surrey. 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so; you must 
 have an argument together on this subject, I 
 am persuaded you will have the best of it," 
 cried Emily. 
 
 " I invariably endeavour to avoid argument." 
 " Well, I think a good spirited argument is 
 the most amusing thing in the world." 
 
 '' Ladies enjoy that sort of thing, I know." 
 ^' I declare that is just such a speech as Doctor 
 Bassett himself would have made." 
 
 '' I tell you what sort of speech I must be 
 making now, 1 must be saying good night ! It 
 is getting quite late." 
 
 " You ought not to be going away at all," 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 29 
 
 said Mrs. Gilbert, "but a wilful man, you know 
 — I leave you to finish the sentence. However 
 you will come to us early to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, bag and baggage, I will be with you 
 before your dinner hour." 
 
 " Oh, come to breakfast," cried Emily. 
 
 " No, no, thank you, and once more good 
 night." 
 
30 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 The sun was shining cheerfullj, and the last 
 night's frost lay glittering on the ground, when 
 on the following day Mr. Surrey set forward at a 
 somewhat rapid pace on liis early moi'ning walk. 
 He was soon at some little distance from the 
 town of Woodridge, where he had spent the pre- 
 ceding niglit, and passing across a portion of 
 waste land, or common, was fully enjoying the 
 influence of an invigorating wintry breeze, robbed 
 of its rudest chill by the free rays of an unclouded 
 sky. 
 
 The landscape which stretched around seemed 
 not wanting in interest to him, although the 
 casual observer might have found in it little 
 
AND THl-IR GUESTS. 31 
 
 worthy of notice, and he not unfrequently stayed 
 his rapid steps and stood gazing intently at some 
 one point of view : now, perhaps, it was the little 
 cluster of cottages seen in the distance, with the 
 blue smoke curling ahove them — now it was a 
 group of cattle in an adjoining field carefully 
 seeking their scanty food — and now it was the 
 far away high road winding over a hilly part of 
 the country, with the waggoner and his team 
 slowly passing along. Or his attention was 
 caught by some olijects nearer at hand; there 
 were icicles sparkling on the rugged bush, or the 
 sunshine was falling on a patch of green sod that 
 lay beside a frozen pool, or a shy bird was on 
 the path and fluttered timidly at his approach. 
 He felt no want of companionship on his solitary 
 ramble; ordinary as the scene around him was, 
 it supplied him with ample food for reflection, 
 and thus occupied, two or three hours passed 
 swiftly away. At the end of this time, however, 
 looking at his watch, he determined to proceed 
 no further, and taking a short cut across the 
 common, whose limits he had been traversing in 
 
32 THE GILBERTS 
 
 various directions, he soon found himself on the 
 highway leading immediately haclc to Woodridge; 
 here for a moment he paused, and then retraced 
 his steps till he arrived at a portion of the road 
 whence a narrower way diverged, and this way 
 he took. It was a long and sheltered lane, 
 sheltered even at this leafless season hy the thick 
 and high hedge w'ith which on each side it was 
 walled. Quickly traversing this quiet path, and 
 emerging from it, he came suddenly on a plea- 
 sant suburh of the town, where were many modest- 
 looking mansions, each one of them standing de- 
 tached from the other, and surrounded with its 
 own little portion of ornamental garden. 
 
 The wicket-gate of one of these gardens he 
 now entered, and tlie next moment he was en- 
 quiring of the pretty maid-servant, who had 
 answeied his summons at the house-door, wiie- 
 ther lier mistress were at home; and being 
 answered in the affirmative, he quickly stepped 
 forward, as she threw open the door of a 
 simply-furnished room, where sat a lady bending 
 over her easel. The sound of his entrance dis- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 33 
 
 turbed her, she looked up, and colouring deeply, 
 rose hastily, and advanced towards him with an 
 extended hand — " Is it possible? I thought you 
 were hundreds of miles distant ! " 
 
 " We meet again you see, in spite of the fore- 
 bodings." 
 
 " Ah, there was a cloud passing then!'' 
 "But how well you are looking now!" 
 " I am well, quite well at present." 
 And they sat down and fell into quiet 
 talk. 
 
 " And you intend remaining here only a 
 week," said Miss Dale, after Mr. Surrey had told 
 her of his purposed visit to the Gilberts; " that 
 is almost as bad as not coming at all." 
 
 "Oh, in that time we shall contrive to have 
 much talk together : we shall take pleasant walks 
 as of old. I was half inclined to ask you to ac- 
 company me this morning, but suspected I should 
 be too early for you." 
 
 " I wish you had done so : I have wasted thi-s 
 beautiful morning." 
 
 "Not wasted it surely," said Mr. Surrey, glanc- 
 c 5 
 
34 THE GILBERTS 
 
 ing towards the easel. ^'Come, let me see what 
 you have in hand." 
 
 She shewed him an unfinished sketch. ^* You 
 cannot judge of it in its present state." 
 
 " Indeed, I can perceive that it is of high 
 proiiiise; that tree is beautifully sketched, and 
 the cattle quietly grazing, seem to me perfect: 
 you have already succeeded in throwing into the 
 landscape an air of repose that is very ef- 
 fective." 
 
 '' You are kindly trying to give me encourage- 
 ment." 
 
 " No, indeed, and any encouragement I could 
 give would be of little Avorth ; but I am un- 
 feignedly glad to hear that you have met with 
 encouragement, and of the right sort." 
 
 *' I assure you this little success is a surprise 
 to myself; I feel that my poor efforts have been 
 rewarded with more indulgence than they de- 
 serve; but it is a happy circumstance for me, 
 as you, who know pretty well the state of my 
 finances, can easily imagine." 
 
 " But I must be permitted to repeat the cau- 
 
AXD THEIR GUESTS. 35 
 
 tion which I have already given. It will be the 
 height of imprudence to rely solely on so pre- 
 carious a mode of support, especially with your 
 uncertain state of health.'^ 
 
 "There is no help for it; I have no other 
 resource." 
 
 " You have relatives, affluent relatives." 
 
 " Yes, and I have also an antipathy to a state 
 of dependence." 
 
 "Yet, a home you must have." 
 
 " Do you not find me in one? You will say 
 it is built on the sand, for this is its only foun- 
 dation," said she, faintly smiling, and laying her 
 hand on the easel. 
 
 "Ah!" sighed ^h\ Surrey," you are imprac- 
 ticable, — impracticable as I have ever found 
 you." 
 
 " Say not so; your counsel has been invaluable 
 to me." 
 
 " Has it ever been followed?" 
 
 " Of. en : although at the moment it was offered 
 it might seem to have been rejected." 
 
 " I claim no right to dictate, but I would gladly 
 sometimes advise." 
 
36 THE GILBERTS 
 
 "And for this I thank you heartily. But 
 now tell me something of yourself. I need not 
 ask what was your last month's occupation, since 
 it lies confessed before me," said Miss Dale, 
 glancing at a periodical which lay on the table, 
 "but what have you now in hand?" 
 
 *' Nothing but tliought." 
 
 " Thought which will take form, I hope. Your 
 creations are to my mind full of grandeur and 
 beauty, but they are.tinged with a ii.ournfulness 
 which it saddens one to contemplate." 
 
 "Have they indeed this effect?" 
 
 ^' Yes; they are so essentially a part of your- 
 self" 
 
 " And this you deprecate?" 
 
 " On the contrary, it makes them o( infinitely 
 higher interest." 
 
 " Not to the general reader, I suspect." 
 
 " Perhaps not; bur you do not aim at being a 
 popular writer." 
 
 " If I did so my failure is signal." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Miss Dale, "what author of 
 genius would not rather be appreciated by the 
 few than applauded by the many?" 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 37 
 
 "Even a poor author?" 
 
 "Yes, even a poor author; and you know it." 
 
 "Well," answered Mr. Surrey, "be it so. 
 But now we must have a little more talk about 
 painting Are all your sketches from nature?" 
 
 " All of them. I have no good pictures to 
 copy, but 1 sometimes paint a scene from 
 memory." 
 
 "Do you not find difficulty in this?" 
 
 " Yes, but it is difficulty of an interesting 
 sort; each tint of the landscape calls up some 
 feeling of the past." 
 
 " This may be far from pleasurable." 
 
 " Tiue, it is an occupation that partakes more 
 of pain than of pleasure, but it is not the less 
 interesting on that account." 
 
 "You had far better not indulge in it; take 
 the commonest scene that lies before you rather 
 than this." 
 
 " When the spring comes and I can go out to 
 sketch I shall follow your good advice." 
 
 " And meanwhile you will be enervating your 
 mind and injuring your health by giving way 
 
38 THE GILBERTS 
 
 to mournful retrospection; and I shall hear 
 again of clouds, and shadows, and dismal fore- 
 bodings " 
 
 " Ah ! do not be severe upon me ! " cried Miss 
 Dale, and tears rose to her eyes. 
 
 '' That I can never intentionally be. But 
 come," added Mr. Surrey, cheerfully, " you must 
 not altogether lose this fine day ; there v/ill be 
 an hour's sunshine yet. Let us have a v/alk!" 
 
 " I'u is too late, and you have had a long walk 
 already." 
 
 ^* Not at all too late; and I am quite ready 
 for another walk." 
 
 "Well, it does look tempting out of doors; I 
 will go wnth you, and be ready in five minutes." 
 
 " And during those five minutes I shall amuse 
 myself with looking at some of the drawings 
 that I see scattered about here, or, with your 
 permission, I shall open this portfolio." 
 
 " Anything* you like," said Miss Dale, as she 
 left the room." 
 
 " Ah ! " thought Mr. Surrey, as he turned 
 over sketch after sketch, ''memory has been 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 39 
 
 too busy here; there is a healthful tone wanting, 
 the dead leaves of autumn are too ahuiulantly 
 scattered. Pity that a shadow of the past 
 should thus mar the most promising of her 
 efforts ! " He put aside the portfolio and took 
 from his pocket a small packet of books, which 
 he had just placed on the table, when Miss Dale, 
 equipped for her Avalk, re-entered the room. 
 Presently they were pacing to and fro in the 
 sheltered lane. 
 
 '^ I shall not take you beyond this to-day, for 
 it is getting cold, but to-morrow we will start 
 early and enjoy the morning sun and look at 
 some of our favourite views," said Mr. Sarrey, 
 
 " There are delightful walks hereabout. I 
 shall be able to introduce you to some new ones, 
 for I have explored a good deal since you were 
 last here." 
 
 "You ought not to have remained here; you 
 should have travelled ; you should have gone to 
 Switzerland ; what sketches you would have pro- 
 duced then !" 
 
 " No, my pencil is only adapted for this quiet 
 
40 THE GILBERTS 
 
 scenery; it would utterly fail in any attempt to 
 pourtray the grand or the sublime." 
 
 " You have yet scarcely essayed its power." 
 
 " It is little enough certainly that I have done, 
 but I think I have pretty accurately measured 
 the extent of its capability; it will not reach 
 beyond the tame landscape." 
 
 " As you proceed in your art you will find its 
 power increase, and you will then have resolution 
 for higher efforts." 
 
 '* There is not time enough before me to gain 
 the excellence which would be requisite for more 
 aspiring attempts." 
 
 " That is a very convenient excuse, but it will 
 not do for you; there is ample time." 
 
 " Not with more than half a life exhausted, 
 and with my sad desultory and idle habits, by 
 which I lose the greater part of the day in use- 
 less pursuits, or in mere fruitless reverie. I 
 have not energy enough for severe application." 
 
 '' Now, 1 could lecture you very seriously on 
 this subject, but 1 believe that you have some 
 apology for it in your frail health, so you must 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 41 
 
 work only moderately, and give yourself as much 
 relaxation as you can afford. Do you ever ven- 
 ture out in the evening? Shall I meet you 
 sometimes at the Gilberts?" 
 
 " I'ara often with them, but we generally meet 
 in the morning; the girls frequently call on me 
 in their early walk, and I seldom go into the 
 town without having half-an-houi''s chat with 
 ]\[rs. Gilbert, but I have not seen Mr. Gilbert 
 for this long while; poor man! he hiis had, as 
 you doubtless know, a great deal of anxiety and 
 distress lately." 
 
 " Yes, I have been much concerned to hear it, 
 and I was sorry to observe the alteration in my 
 cousin's appearance; she looks care-worn and 
 troubled." 
 
 ''You must, indeed, be struck by the change; 
 she who used to have such a remarkably cheerful 
 happy countenance!" 
 
 '' Ah," said .Mr. Surrey, " Margaret had much 
 better have remtiincd as she was. I always 
 thought her mai-riage an ill-advised one, not as 
 far as Mr. Gilbert himself is concerned, for he is 
 
42 THE GILBERTS 
 
 an excellent man, but on account of his straight- 
 ened circumstances." 
 
 " I had imagined that it was only lately he 
 had had pecuniary difficulties to struggle with.'* 
 
 '' I believe they have been very much in- 
 creased of late, but even at the time of his mar- 
 riage his affairs were by no means in a prosperous 
 condition, as he \ery candidly acknow^ledged." 
 
 "For himself and his children, Mr. Gilbert's 
 union with your cousin must have proved the 
 happiest event possible." 
 
 " There can be no doubt of it." 
 
 " Then rely on it, whatever her sacrifice may 
 have been, she has not regretted her mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Possibly not; she is a most amiable creature," 
 said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " And she has one great source of happiness, 
 not only Mr» Gilbert, but his children are most 
 affectionately attached to her." 
 
 " It would be strange if they were not, since 
 her whole aim has been to conduce to their com- 
 fort and well-being." 
 
AND THKTR GUESTS. 43 
 
 " And in tliis respect," observed Miss Dale, 
 "they lire more fortunate than if their own 
 mothtir had lived. Slie, poor thing! in spite of 
 possessing many good qualities, was peevish and 
 irritable; very ill adapted to meet adversity in 
 any shape; but then, you know, she had been 
 an indulged beauty, and her suffering state of 
 health also might have affected her temper." 
 
 " Does not Fanny resenjble her motlier?" 
 
 " Strikiiigly, I think, in every respect; but 
 she has not quite her mother's share of beauty; 
 and she has better health, and consequently, per- 
 haps a somewhat better temper." 
 
 ^'' She has always appeared to me the least 
 amiable of the family," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 '' Tiuit she undoubtedly is. Emily is a fine 
 hearted girl, and Rhoda is charming. As for 
 the boys, Andrew bids fair to resemble his father 
 in disposition, and poor Edmund's worst fault 
 has been thoughtless extravagance." 
 
 '^ Which, hovrever, was inexcusable," returned 
 Mr. Surrey, " as he must have been fully aware 
 of the state of his father's circumstances." 
 
44 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " His conduct cannot be justified, but he is so 
 youniT, and of a nature so open to temptation 
 where anything like amusement comes in the 
 way, that I think it may be pardoned," replied 
 Miss Dale. 
 
 *' His sister Emily appears to be very warmly 
 attached to him." 
 
 '^ Her affection for him is unbounded: she 
 would, I am certain, make any sacrifice, if by 
 doing so she could in the least degree contribute 
 to his welfare." 
 
 " Ah, she is a fine, generous creature." 
 
 " She has a fine countenance, too, don't you 
 think?" asked Miss Dale. 
 
 "" The expression is good, frank, and ani- 
 mated." 
 
 ''And you surely consider her handsome?" 
 
 "No; but her figure is fine." 
 
 " I assure you she is very generally admired; 
 indeed here she is reckoned a beauty.'* 
 
 " Very likely, but she does not strike me as such, 
 nor is she as handsome as she was when I was 
 here four years ago; she was but nineteen then." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 45 
 
 " I remember thinking at that time you were 
 more than half captivated by her." 
 
 " You were mistaken, entirely mistaken. But 
 it is getting too cold for you now. I shall take 
 you home." 
 
 " No, I shall remain out another half-liour, 
 but it is time for you to be going if you would 
 not keep the Gilbert's dinner waiting; they keep 
 old-fashioned early hours." 
 
 '' True, I ought to have remembered tliis, but 
 I shall be in good time yet; and as I pass your 
 door on my way, I shall insist on seeing you safe 
 within it. I shall not allow you to be so imprudent 
 as to remain out another half-hour for the mere 
 sake of taking cold and being laid up, pei'haps 
 for the next six months. I verily believe you 
 take all possible pains to injure your health, and 
 you really do deserve a most severe scolding." 
 
 " I think, indeed, you have given me one, and 
 that I have borne it with exemplary patience." 
 
 " Well, we will have no more talking at pre- 
 sent; we will close our lips to keep out the 
 frosty air." 
 
46 THE GILBIRTS 
 
 And they soon reached Miss Dale's door. 
 
 '' Now go in," said Mr. Surrey, as they shook 
 hands, " go in and sit by a cheerful tire, but 
 don't sit down to paint I'rora memory and fall 
 into a fit of blue vapours. I left a little parcel 
 of books on your table, 1 think some of tlieni 
 will interest you; you sliall tell me to-morrow 
 what you think of the ' House of the Seven 
 Gables,' and now good bye. 
 
 '•'- How kind you are ! Good bye." 
 
 Miss Dale did not sliuht Mr. Surrey's advice; 
 she presently seated herself before her cheerful 
 fire, and opened the precious packet of books, as 
 she took from it voluuje after volume, — '^ how 
 cheering," she thought, '' is the conviction of being 
 really cared for by a friend. How pleasant is it 
 to obey the directions of so kind a monitor!" 
 And then she fell into a reverie in which me- 
 mory brought before her, as in a dream, days 
 long passed away — when her little fortune was 
 not diminished — when there existed no necessity 
 for the exertion of her talent, and she had culti- 
 vated it for mere pleasure. Then passed before 
 
AND THLIR GUESTS. 47 
 
 her the first meeting with Surrey — how full of 
 sorrow her heart had then been, and how the 
 interest of his conversation had gradually, drawn 
 her from the weakness of indulging in unavpjling 
 regret — ^how almost imperceptibly she had grown 
 to value his society, till at length it had become 
 her highest pleasure; and now how delightful was 
 his return ! — Time had not yet robbed her of all 
 enjoyment. 
 
48 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "You are l)ut just in time, we were going to sit 
 down to dinner without you, for we are obliged 
 to be punctual on papa's account," said Emily 
 Gilbert, meeting Mr. Surrey in the hall just as 
 he had entered the house, and leading the way 
 into the dining-room, where the rest uf the party 
 were alreadv assembled, " You are but just in 
 time, where have you been all day? " 
 
 " No catechizing," said Mr. Gilbert, " we are 
 very glad to see Mr. Surrey now." 
 
 " I beg ten thousand pardons. I have been 
 taking a long country ramble, and the time slipped 
 away unnccountably." 
 
 " Rhoda and I have had a long walk also," 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 49 
 
 said Fanny, " and on our return we called at 
 Miss Dale's, but she was out." 
 
 " What an improvement there is in the old 
 road leading to the coramou; it is positively 
 pass;ible now," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 '' Oh you were there ! " exclaimed Emily. " To 
 be sure we might have remembered your favourite 
 old haunt, and the long solitary hours you 
 used to spend there, and might have guessed 
 how you were disposing of yourself." 
 
 " But perhaps they were not solitary hours 
 to-day," observed Fanny emphatically. 
 
 Mr. Surrey was silent. 
 
 " There was a gipsy camp on the common a 
 little while ago," said Khoda, " and then Miss 
 Dale used to go there and sketch them." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Surrey," cried Emily, '' you must 
 see some of Miss Dale's beautiful landscapes; 
 you Avould be quite charmed with them." 
 
 " Of course he has seen them already," 
 remarked Fanny in a low tone. 
 
 '' She paints in Avater-colours, and this is in 
 good taste in my opinion. I cannot admire the 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE GILBERTS 
 
 occupation of oil-painting for a lady," said Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " Doctor Bassett despises painting altogether," 
 said Fanny, "he was talking of it the other day, 
 and he insisted that it is a useless art." 
 
 " I am inclined to believe that your Doctor 
 Bassett professes some most extraordinary 
 opinions for the sake of singularity." 
 
 '' Oh, no ! " exclaimed Emily, " he is far too 
 honest for that; but he has some eccentric 
 notions, yet he is very amusing, and very inter- 
 esting, too, for he is excessively clever. But 
 somehow or other I feel persuaded that you 
 would not get on well together — that you would 
 not like each other in fact." 
 
 " I presume that we are not likely to come 
 into collision." 
 
 " Indeed you will be almost sure to meet him 
 here; he very often looks in," 
 
 "Well, if we do meet we must have 
 recourse to the never failing English topic, the 
 state of the weather, and on this subject I pre- 
 sume we might contrive to be of the same opinion." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 51 
 
 ^' I would not answer for it," said Emily. 
 
 '* The doctor is a prime favourite with my 
 daughters, though he does lecture them pretty 
 sharply occasionally," said Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 "' I really believe they like him the better for 
 it," remarked his wife. 
 
 '' To be sure we do ! at least I am quite sure 
 that / do," cried Emily. 
 
 "Ah!" said Andrew, ^'that is why he does 
 it." 
 
 " Upon my word, I think I must take a leaf 
 out of Doctor Bassett's book," observed Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " By-the-bye, I think you would have made 
 an excellent physician," said Emily. 
 
 '' No doubt I should, since such is your 
 opinion ; but unluckily I must be content, instead, 
 with being a briefless barrister," said Surrey, 
 who long ago had deserted law for literature. 
 
 " Ah ! you poets, and play-wrights, and meta- 
 physicians, and moral philosophers will never get 
 on in this work-a-day world of ours ! " exclaimed 
 Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 D 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOiS 
 
52 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Perhaps that is not precisely our object," re- 
 joined Surrey. 
 
 *'And perhaps though you don't get on your- 
 selves, you help to make the world get on," said 
 Emily. 
 
 " We do our little stroke of work and there- 
 with rest content." 
 
 " And I am sure we should be but a set of 
 savages without you." 
 
 " You have a warm advocate in ray daughter 
 Emily, you see," said Mr. Gilbert. " If you 
 were a thriving young lawyer now, ten to one 
 but the young lady would have a sharp word for 
 you." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! we have our compensations now 
 and then." 
 
 " I wish I were an author ! I wish I could 
 write a romance ! " exclaimed Emily. 
 
 "You had better by half live one," rejoined 
 Mr. Surrey. 
 
 ''What, be the actual heroine of one myself! 
 There is no field for it here." 
 
 " Everywhere that which would be romance 
 on the page is continually taking place." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 53 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted. A 
 roll of music was brought in with a message from 
 Miss Harris. 
 
 '' I am glad to hear of music," said Mr. Surrey, 
 " I shall petition for some this evening." 
 
 " Fanny plays very nicely indeed," said Emily, 
 " and Rhoda, for her age is quite an accomplished 
 musician." 
 
 '' And Emily, I suspect, is still incorrigible, 
 and will have nothing to do with music." 
 
 " I have no talent for it." 
 
 " I am afraid that is an excuse for a little 
 idleness." 
 
 " There is no need for all the world to be mu- 
 sical," observed Mr. Gilbert, '' two out of my 
 three girls are quite enough I think." 
 
 " Ah ! it is the indulgent Papa who encourages 
 the idleness, I suspect," said Surrey, as on Mrs. 
 Gilbert's rising from the table he opened the 
 door for her and the girls to pass out. 
 
 " Mamma," exclaimed Emily, as soon as they 
 were in the drawing-room, '' how very agreeable 
 Mr. Surrey is. How I do wish he always lived 
 here." 
 
54 THE GILBKRTS 
 
 " He would never be stationary anywhere, my 
 dear, so we must be content with a visit from 
 him now and then." 
 
 " What a strange thing it is that he has never 
 married. Don't you think so, mamma?" 
 
 "I hardly know that I do, my love; and 
 perhaps it is as well as it is He is, I suspect, 
 too fastidious and too sensitive to be likely to 
 find happiness in the ordinary lot of marriage." 
 
 " But do you think he has never wished to 
 marry ?" 
 
 "That is quite another affair, my dear; but 
 I do not believe he will ever marry now." 
 
 " I am certain he has been to see Miss Dale 
 to-day," exclaimed Fanny, interrupting her 
 practice of the new duet. 
 
 "Yery likely, my dear; there is no reason 
 ■why he should not have paid a visit to a 
 friend." 
 
 "Ah!" persisted Fanny, "I was very young 
 when Mr. Surrey was last here, but T had my 
 eyes about me, and I used to see how Miss Dale 
 brightened up whenever he talked to her." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 55 
 
 " I dare say she did, because his conversation 
 is precisely of a kind to interest her." 
 
 '* Miss Dale must be older than Mr. Surrey," 
 said Fanny ; '^ she looks quite wan and worn 
 sometimes." 
 
 " But only sometimes," observed Emily. 
 
 " And sorrow and thought, no less than time, 
 have done this mischief," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " To my mind," exclaimed Emily, " her coun- 
 tenance is very attractive; it has such variety 
 of expression, and you can read something of 
 her past history in it, I suspect." 
 
 " What odd notions you do take up, Emily," 
 cried Fanny; "and after all, I dare say Miss 
 Dale's historv has nothinor verv remarkable in 
 
 it." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, if you were acquainted with 
 it you would not say so," observed Mrs. Gilbert; 
 " hers has been a painfully eventful life, and it 
 is surprising that she looks as well as she does, 
 and that she can be as cheerful as she occasion- 
 ally is." 
 
 " And really she is so droll and entertaining 
 
56 THE GILBERTS 
 
 sometimes," said Emily; " I declare no one can 
 make me laugh as slie does." 
 
 " She tells me such amusing stories," cried 
 Rhoda. 
 
 "What are they about?" asked Fanny. 
 
 " Oh ! it would take a long time to tell what 
 they are about, but they are something like the 
 stories in the beautiful book that Mr. Surrey 
 ga\'e me, something like the 'Ugly Duckling.'" 
 
 " If she can tell stories like that she must be 
 ■very clever indeed," cried Emily. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, of course she is clever," rejoined 
 Fanny, " and 1 like her very much, as well as 
 you do, I dare say, only I can't bear your way 
 of crying people up to the skies." 
 
 " Emily is something of an enthusiast, it 
 must be confessed," remarked Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " I guessed as much," said Mr. Surrey, who 
 had at that moment unobserved quietly en- 
 tered the room, " I guessed as much, and what 
 subject for her enthusiasm has she just now?" 
 
 " We were talking of dear Miss Dale." 
 
 He smiled, '' bhall we go to-morrow morning, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 57 
 
 Ehoda, and call on Miss Dale?" he said 
 presently. 
 
 " Oh, yes, and we will walk all over the com- 
 mon," she cried, dancing across the room. 
 
 "What a lively little fairy you are !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Surrey, seizing her as she was flitting along. 
 " Come and sit down quietly here," and he made 
 room for her beside him on the sofa. " Come and 
 sit down here, and tell me what you have been 
 doing all these years that you have contrived to 
 grow so very little." 
 
 " I have been waiting to grow, like the ' Ugly 
 Duckling,'" answered Ehoda, alluding to Christian 
 Anderson's story, Mr. Surrey's gift." 
 
 " And shall you one day grow into a swan ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not. 
 
 " But I do think you will." 
 
 " Let us have some music," cried Mr. Gilbert, 
 who with Andrew, just then entered, " I have 
 not had any from my little Ehoda for this many 
 a day." 
 
 " Oh, papa, that has only been because you 
 have had no time to listen," she answered, 
 D 5 
 
58 THE GILBERTS 
 
 quickly seating herself at the piano, and playing 
 -with considerable taste a favorite air of her 
 father's. 
 
 '' The swan is not far off, I suspect," said Mr. 
 Surrey, bending over her, and whispering into 
 her ear as she played the concluding notes. 
 
 Khoda Siiiiled. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of my little girl's 
 performance? Is it tolerable?" asked Mr. Gil- 
 bert." 
 
 "Excellent! She does credit to her master." 
 
 " All the instruction she has had she owes to 
 the kindness of her sister Fanny," said Mrs. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 '' Indeed ! then Fanny must herself be an able 
 musician." 
 
 *' Fanny, my love, let Mr. Surrey have a 
 specimen of your talent," said Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 " Pray indulge me ! " entreated Mr. Surrey. 
 
 But Fanny hesitated. 
 
 "Oh, my poor play will be nothing to you, 
 who are accustomed to hear first-rate perform- 
 ances." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 59 
 
 " I daresay I am not accustomed to hear finer 
 performances than yours." 
 
 " Come, come, Fan, don't stand there to be 
 complimented beforehand," cried Mr. Gilbert 
 impatiently. "Begin at once, my dear, or Andrew 
 and I shall lose the pleasure of hearing you, for 
 we must be off in a few minutes. Afterwards 
 Mr. Surrey may flatter you to your heart's 
 content." 
 
 " I don't want to be flattered," said Fanny 
 moodily. 
 
 " And I had really no intention of bestowing 
 anything so worthless as flattery upon you," said 
 Mr. Surrey, smiling good-naturedly. 
 
 Fanny turned from the piano, and approaching 
 the work-table took up a half-finished purse 
 which lay on it — 
 
 " My love," cried Mrs. Gilbert, " do oblige 
 your papa at once." 
 
 But Fanny was counting the stiches on her 
 netting-pin and did not seem to hear the re- 
 quest. 
 
 " I see how it is : come along, Andrew," said 
 
60 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mr. Gilbert, and they quitted the room to- 
 gether. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert sat vexed and silent. The color 
 mounted to Emily's cheeks, *' Poor dear papa!" 
 said she, " we shall not see him again all the 
 evening." 
 
 " Rhoda, darling," presently said Mrs Gilbert, 
 *^ let us have a little more music, as Mr. Surrey 
 is fond of it." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, he would so much better like 
 to hear Fanny play." 
 
 But Mr. Surrey continued silent. 
 
 "Will you like a game of chess?" asked 
 Emily, turning to him; " I have not quite for- 
 gotten your old lessons," and Surrey acquiescing 
 they sat down to play. 
 
 '* Ah !" he exclaimed, when the game had 
 somewhat advanced, " you have become an adept 
 since you were my pupil; you must have had 
 considerable practice." 
 
 '^I have had none lately," replied Emily, 
 keeping her eyes fixed on the board." 
 
 ''Do your sisters play?" 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 61 
 
 " No, neither of them." 
 
 " Now, confess at once," said Mr. Surrey, after 
 a little while, when his king was in check, " con- 
 fess at once that you have been studying under 
 a professor of the game. Positively I have no 
 chance with you." 
 
 He looked up as he spoke; there was a vivid 
 blush on her cheek. 
 
 " Indeed, I have only played with a learner 
 like myself." 
 
 '' Mr. Kandall used to say that Emily played 
 better than he did," said Rhoda, who was now 
 looking on the board. 
 
 '* Mr. Randall ! Is that the old clergyman 
 whom I used sometimes to see here?" 
 
 " Oh no ! it is his son, Charles Randall, who is 
 a sailor." 
 
 "A lieutenant on board the 'Vigilant,' a very 
 promising young officer, as we are told, and an 
 excellent young man," added Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 Emily made a false move. 
 
 " Ah, the game is mine after all ! " exclaimed 
 
62 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mr. Surrey, '^ but it is hardly fair to take ad- 
 vantage of such an oversight : we had no right 
 to be talking; it disturbed you." 
 
 " Indeed, I must have lost," said Emily, rising 
 quickly, " you are the better player." 
 
 " I hear papa's bell ring," exclaimed Rhoda, 
 and a moment afterwards Janet came in to say 
 that her master wished to have a cup of strong 
 coffee. 
 
 " Ah, then he has that terrible headache 
 again," cried Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Let me take the coffee to him, mama," said 
 Rhoda. 
 
 " Stay a moment, Rhoda," cried Fanny, fol- 
 lowing her to the door, and whispering a few 
 words to her there. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he will be so pleased," exclaimed 
 Rhoda aloud, as she ran lightly down-stairs. 
 
 Fanny returned to the table and took up a 
 piece of ordinary work — the purse had disap- 
 peared. Presently Mr. Gilbert, with Rhoda, 
 made his appearance. " Here I come with my 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 63 
 
 little cup-bearer, you see," said he; "I thought 
 the coiTee would do me more good by half in this 
 cheerful room than in my dismal office. Can 
 you find a place for me and my cup?" and he 
 seated himself by Fanny. " Do you know that 
 I have had a beautiful present this evening, and 
 the very thing of all others that I wanted — my 
 pretty Fanny's handiwork," he added, kissing 
 her cheek, down which a tear was silently steal- 
 ing, and then displaying a silken purse with 
 glittering rings and tassels. 
 
 " This really *i3 a present worth having," said 
 Mr. Surrey, taking it up to examine it more 
 closely, and turning to Fanny with a smile, 
 " what an accomplished worker you are ! " 
 
 " Everything that Fanny undertakes she does 
 well," said Emily, with affectionate earnestness. 
 
 " I declare my wretched headache is already 
 more than half cured," exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, 
 cheerfully sipping his coffee. 
 
 " Do you think you could bear a little music 
 now?" enquired Fanny in a low voice. 
 
 " My dear love, that would complete the cure." 
 
64 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Is not such music as this, Surrey," said Mr, 
 Gilbert, as Fanny concluded an exquisitely plain- 
 tive air, " is not such music as this enough to 
 charm away the headache ? " 
 
 " Aye, indeed, or the heartache ! " 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 65 
 
 CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 " You are pretty well wrapped np with all 
 those shawls and furs about you, certainly," 
 observed Mr. Surrey, as he was one evening 
 escorting Miss Dc^le home, after a visit she had 
 paid to the Gilberts, " but still with your 
 extreme delicacy of health, you incur some risk 
 I fear, by inhaling this frosty night air. I 
 should advise you not very often to repeat the 
 experiment of evening visiting at this season." 
 
 " I frequently notice," said Miss Dale, *' that 
 you seem to imagine my occasional ailments 
 proceed always from some neglect of needful 
 caution on my part ; I can assure you, however, 
 they are far oftener the result of a totally 
 different cause." 
 
66 THE Gir.BERTS 
 
 *' Then shun that other cause, whatever it 
 be." 
 
 " Would I not gladly do so ! But dis- 
 quietude of mind is not always to be kept at 
 bav." 
 
 " Have we not sometimes held philosphical 
 discussions on this very subject ?" 
 
 " Yes, and you have made me not unfrequently 
 acknowledge the wisdom of your calm view of 
 life." 
 
 " And why cannot you in the like manner 
 regard it." 
 
 "• I offer no defence for my weakness." 
 
 '* And thus you would disarm censure; but I 
 cannot let you off so easily ; and first I must 
 hear your excuse for the disquietude you 
 speak of." 
 
 '' Memory may furnish it; in part at least." 
 
 " No ; from a review of the past, you should 
 gather strength, not stoop to feebleness; you 
 must put forward some other plea." 
 
 ^'I might urge that I have not yet learned 
 ftoicism." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 67 
 
 " And I would enjoin you to restrain your 
 sympathies; and to take patiently your own 
 measure of suffering ; in quiet submission to the 
 inevitable, assuredly there lies true wisdom." 
 
 " Ah ! could we but know — " she stopped. 
 
 " Go on," said Mr. Surrey, " I am aware of 
 your proneness to speculative thought and I 
 suspect that we are only now approaching the 
 true ground of the disquietude." 
 
 ^' I confess it." 
 
 *'You need say no more; and you have my 
 fullest sympathy." 
 
 There was a lengthened pause; the silence 
 was broken by Surrey. 
 
 '* But this grave meditation of ours is not a 
 very appropriate termination of the cheerful 
 evening we have had," said he ; '' and, by the way, 
 I must not withhold a word of praise which it 
 seems to me you deserve; you are always 
 animated in society, always ready to contribute 
 your share towards the amusement of the passing 
 hour." 
 
 " I deserve no commendation for this, it costs 
 
68 - THE GILBERTS 
 
 me no effort; I find little difficulty in being gay 
 with the gay." 
 
 "- Then you should go more frequently into 
 society ; I shall prescribe this sort of dissipation 
 to you as a mental tonic — an exhilirating 
 medicine." 
 
 "I scarcely need it; I can be cheerful in soli- 
 tude; wandering about the lanes and fields here, 
 or sitting at home at work on a favourite picture, 
 I sometimes feel perfectly happy. The truth is 
 I am innately of a glad temperament; the sun, 
 you know, will now and then shine out between 
 the clouds." 
 
 " Except when some opaque object intervenes 
 — it is my dull presence then which causes the 
 eclipse." 
 
 " No, indeed, no ; but my sense of your indul- 
 gence betrays me into making confession to you 
 of my miserable weaknesses." 
 
 " Confession is suggestive of penance," ob- 
 served Surrey, " which shall forthwith be im- 
 posed: there must be no trimming the midnight 
 lamp: and no invitation to speculative thought; 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 69 
 
 the couch must be sought at once, and a welcome 
 prepared for placid sleep. Good night." 
 
 And shaking hands they parted at the little 
 wicket of Miss Dale's gai'den. 
 
 " We hardly expected you to return so soon," 
 said Emily, as half-an-hour afterwards Mr. 
 Surrey re-entered the drawing room ; "we thought 
 you would have remained for a little chat with 
 Miss Dale after taking her home." 
 
 " It is not such an easy matter to get rid of 
 me, you see; and I have made haste back in 
 order to enjoy a little music; and now I am re- 
 warded for my impatience by finding the piano 
 closed and Fanny's work-box displayed." 
 
 "It is a little too late for more music to- 
 night," said Mr. Gilbert; "but, come, Surrey, 
 take a glass of wine and a biscuit after your 
 walk." 
 
 "JSTo wine, but a biscuit and a glass of water, 
 if you please." 
 
 " Nay, you must take a glass of wine if only 
 to drink Miss Dale's good health. How well she 
 was looking this evening!" 
 
70 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " So well, that to be the medium of any good 
 wish which may be suggested for improvement 
 in her health, this pure element is sufficiently 
 potent," said Mr. Surrey, pouring out for him- 
 self a glass of water. 
 
 *' You have always a very ingenious method 
 of contriving to take your own way, Mr. Surrey, 
 I observe," said Emily ; '' you cannot think how 
 much it amuses me to detect this in a hundred 
 little instances." 
 
 " I must be more careful in future : I was not 
 aware of being in the presence of so keen a 
 censor." 
 
 " Indeed I do not presume to be a censor at 
 all; and, moreover, I perceive almost invariably 
 that your way is the right way." 
 
 " Don't let my girl make you vain, Surrey!^ 
 exclaimed Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 '' There is little danger of it w^hile she is so 
 poor an adept in the art of flattery; she must 
 first learn to administer it without the alloy of 
 previous reproof." 
 
 " I seem to have involved myself in a sad 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 71 
 
 scrape," said Emily, '' but really I had not the 
 slightest intention of saying anything ill- 
 natured," 
 
 " From those smiling lips it were hard to ex- 
 tract any very great bitterness, " said Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " Miss Dale says," cried little Rhoda, " that 
 Emily's temper resembles the rose; it is very 
 sweet, and the thorns about it are only for self- 
 defence; they never prick but for being too 
 rudely handled." 
 
 " Miss Dale herself has not the most perfect 
 temper in the world, I should imagine," observed 
 Fanny. 
 
 '' Oh, Fanny ! what possible reason can you 
 have for thinking so?" exclaimed Emily. 
 
 " I only judge from her countenance. She has 
 very often a frown," persisted Fanny. 
 
 " Ah ! but that frown has nothing to do with 
 temper ; it is merely the result of thought, I fancy : 
 am I not right, Mr. Surrey?'' 
 
 " I have no doubt of your power of penetration." 
 
 " But what is your own opinion ? Do you think 
 Miss Dale has a perfect temper?" asked Fanny. 
 
72 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " I know nothing to the contrary ; but I con- 
 fess I am not in the habit of playing the critic 
 with my friends." 
 
 ''I wish we had all known Miss Dale as mamma 
 knew her, when she was in her gay prime," cried 
 Emily. 
 
 " But even then she had her moods of thought- 
 fulness, and occasionally that same bending of 
 the brow which has now deepened into the frown 
 of which your sister complains," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " She could not have been so lovely as Emily 
 is so fond of imagining she was," said Fanny. 
 
 ^' At all events, loveable she must always be," 
 returned her sister. 
 
 Fanny's lip curled derisively. 
 
 "Yes, and fascinating also," persisted Emily. 
 "Am I not right?" she added, appealing ear- 
 nestly to Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " I have not the slightest inclination to differ 
 from you: if you say you are fascinated, I am 
 quite ready to believe it." 
 
 " That is quite another affair," said Fanny, 
 " that is not at all allowing that Miss Dale hi^r- 
 self is a fascinating person." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 73 
 
 " Nay, if she fascinates, must not she be fasci- 
 nating?' 
 
 " Aye, aje, look to your logic, young lady I" 
 cried Mr. Gilbert, good-huraouredly. 
 
 " I know nothing about logic." 
 
 " Dr. Bassett says that ladies never do arrive 
 at logical conclusions," said Emily, " and by the 
 way, Mr. Surrey, he called here while you were 
 walking home with Miss Dale, and we wanted 
 him very much to stay till you came back, but 
 we could not persuade him : he said you were a 
 lion, and that he always got out of the way of 
 lions when he could." 
 
 " Upon my word very flattering ! But I was 
 not aware of being anything so formidable." 
 
 " What a courageous lady Miss Dale must be 
 to trust herself with such an escort," said Mr. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 " Oh ! she is another Una," cried Emily. 
 " Ah ! I perceive it is time to say good night; 
 you are already in the land of dreams," said Mr. 
 burrey. 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 On the welcome appearance of blue sky and 
 sunshine after a day or two of cloud and rain, 
 Mrs. Gilbert was one morning induced by the 
 persuasion of Surrey to accompany him, on 
 his customary country walk. This opportunity 
 for uninterrupted conversation tempting her to 
 the detail of many family circumstances, she was 
 led to recur to the scheme she had suggested to 
 the girls, and that also had been mentioned to 
 Surrey on the evening of his arrival. He said 
 he had thought of it more than once since, and 
 that he could perceive no objection to an en- 
 deavour to carry it into effect. " But mean- 
 while," he added, *' what say you to accepting 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 75 
 
 me on these same terms as your guest for the 
 next few months? I am just now tired of 
 rambling and should be delighted to make one 
 of your family party." 
 
 '' My dear William," exclaimed Mrs. Gilbert, 
 " I see and appreciate the kindness of your 
 proposal." 
 
 '' I do assure you I consider it a very valuable 
 privilege to be admitted into an agreeable 
 domestic circle," answered Mr. Surrey. " And 
 now let us consider the affliir as settled," added 
 he taking a folded paper from his pocket-book 
 !ind slipping it into Mrs. Gilbert's hand. " N"ay, 
 nay, there is no need to open it now." 
 
 " But this lavish liberality distresses me," 
 cried Mrs. Gilbert, glancing at the contents of 
 the paper. " You are not rich ; it is I know 
 only through toil of the brain that you enable 
 yourself to be generous." 
 
 "Come, come, not a word more on the sub- 
 ject, but to-morrow let us see old Davis again 
 in the office, and then we shall be able to have a 
 little more of ^Ir. Gilbert's society I hope." 
 E 2 
 
7b THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Ah I fear my husband will hardly be 
 brought to consent to your most kind scheme." 
 
 '' Well, if he insists on turning me out of his 
 house, go T must, there is no doubt of it; but I 
 suspect he will hardly be so inhospitable; I leave 
 ray cause in your hands at all events; manage 
 it with your usual good tact and I shall be 
 pretty certain of success. A good wife has, and 
 deserves to have, unbounded influence over her 
 husband in all minor matters —and, by the way, 
 how is it that my friend Emily has not yet 
 taken upon herself the dignity of a Avife?" 
 
 *' Where young women are absolutely without 
 fortune positive suitors are rare; but she has 
 not been without admirers, and she would make 
 such an excellent wife that I sincerely hope she 
 will marry at no distant day." 
 
 " And without doubt," said Mr. Surrey, " she 
 must before now have felt a predilection for one 
 or other of her admirers." 
 
 " A few years ago," answered Mrs. Gilbert, 
 ^' I did suspect that Charles Kandall had gained 
 an interest in her affections, but I have since 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 77 
 
 thought that I was mistaken, for I can hardly 
 suppose if that were the case she could be as 
 light-hearted and cheerful as she is during his 
 long absences." 
 
 " Well, I certainly have no right, as I can 
 have no motive for playing the inquisitor in this 
 matter," said Mr. Surrey, " she is a charming 
 girl, and if he has won an interest in her feelings 
 I can only say that this young sailor is a very 
 lucky fellow." 
 
 " Yet as he has only his pay as lieutenant — " 
 
 "Ah! this terrible poverty," interrupted 
 Surrey, " it is continually the bane of our hap- 
 piness. But here we are in the vicinity of Miss 
 Dale's abode; and pray what may you call this 
 part of the town or suburb?" 
 
 "It goes by the name of ' the Briars;' so 
 called long ago, when a thick thorny copse 
 flourished where now these lieat mansions with 
 their trim gardens stand." 
 
 " Too neat and too trim by half for the some- 
 what picturesque name they bear ; there is little 
 vestige of the briars at present." 
 
78 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Except in Miss Dale's little domain, where a 
 few are still permitted to luxuriate; and you 
 perceive her garden is enclosed with an entire 
 hedge of sweet briar." 
 
 "Let us see if this same hedge is putting forth 
 any budding leaves," said Mr. Surrey, opening 
 the garden wicket. 
 
 " It is too early in the season for that." 
 
 " Well, then, let us find out the easel, and see 
 if there be any leaves unfolding on the canvass," 
 said lie, advancing towards the house. 
 
 "I guess now^ why our walk lay in this direc- 
 tion," smilingly remarked Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " How long it is since I have heard that plea- 
 sant voice here !" cried Miss Dale, opening the 
 door of her painting-room as they entered, and 
 coming forward with an extended hand. " My 
 dear Margaret, I am delighted to see you ; and 
 you," she added, turning to Mr. Surrey, " are 
 to-day doubly welcome for the sake of your 
 companion." 
 
 " But we are interrupting you, I fear," said 
 Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 79 
 
 *' Yes, and I sliall be all the better for it. 
 But you will find my uninhabited little drawing 
 room very chilling," said Miss Dale, as her ser- 
 vant threw open the door, " I think you had 
 better come here into my painting room, which, 
 although in a sad litter is at least snug and 
 warm." 
 
 " It is worth all the drawing rooms in the 
 world!" cried Mr. Surrey; "and what progress 
 you have made since yesterday !" he added, ap- 
 proaching the easel. "Look here, Margaret; 
 see the sunny ripple on that stream, the gleam 
 of golden light falling on that green tree — one 
 can almost hear the water flowing, the leaves 
 rustling in the fresh spring breeze." 
 
 " It is charming, indeed," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " And is not the artist herself looking as 
 bright and as cheerful as her picture ?" said Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " No, no; it is spring time with the one and 
 autumn with the other," answered Miss Dale. 
 
 " But, my dear Louisa, you really are looking 
 remarkably well," said Mrs. Gilbert; "I was 
 
80 THE GILBERTS 
 
 half inclined to lecture Doctor Bassett yester- 
 day when he told me that he had not seen you 
 for a long while, but I rejoice to perceive there 
 was no need for it." 
 
 ••' I have not required to see him on the score 
 of health certainly, but a neighbourly visit from 
 him now and then would, I confess, have been 
 very acceptable. He always says he has not 
 time for anything of the sort, but one would 
 think he must have an hour now and then to 
 spare for his friends, as he has no family ties at 
 home." 
 
 " I wish he would marry, but that he never 
 will do," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 ''No, never; you may be quite sure of it," re- 
 joined her friend, " he persists in asserting that 
 the result of much observation, for which the 
 routine of his profession has afforded him ample 
 opportunity, is a conviction that in ninety-nine 
 cases out of a hundred, the single is far preferable 
 to the married state." 
 
 '' Such an opinion must be expressed for the 
 mere sake of provoking an argument, I sus- 
 pect," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 81 
 
 " No, indeed, it is bis grave and deliberate 
 opinion." 
 
 " And yet he finds favour witb bis fair pa- 
 tients." 
 
 '' Yes, certainly, he cannot fail to do so." 
 
 *'Ah! you ladies in Protestant England, 
 must still have your confessor or director, or 
 something of the sort; and it matters little 
 whether it be the priest or the physician to 
 whom the office is assigned." 
 
 " You are severe on us, William," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Not at all severe; I would have you follow 
 your own will, and take your own way, in this as 
 in most other matters. So long as I am myself 
 privileged to escape such an onerous appointment, 
 I am perfectly satisfied with your bestowing it 
 on whomsoever you please." 
 
 " What a hint you are giving me," said Miss 
 Dale quietly, " I perceive I must not again bur- 
 then you with my confidence." 
 
 " Oh ! we are privileged friends," he answered 
 in the same tone, " there must be no reserve 
 between us 3 we must go on as of old." 
 E 5 
 
82 THE GILBERTS 
 
 *' But according to your plan of yesterday 
 this is your farewell visit," said Miss Dale. 
 
 '• You who know me for the most uncertain 
 being in the world, as far as my whereabout is con- 
 cerned, will not be surprised to hear that the 
 plan of yesterday is not the plan of to-day, and 
 that the iarewell visit is, in parliamentary phrase, 
 prorogued to this day six months." 
 
 " Indeed I this is pleasant hearing." 
 
 ''Is it not delightful?" exclaimed Mrs. Gil- 
 bert, '' and you don't know half his kindness. I 
 must tell you that this change of plan has been 
 prompted by the most generous motive." 
 
 " Hush, hush!" cried Mr. Surrey, "there is 
 110 generosity in it, but I hope I have persuaded 
 my kind cousin not to turn me out of doors, till 
 the summer sunshine shall bring with it my 
 periodical restlessness." 
 
 " It will be very pleasant to keep you amongst 
 us meanwhile," said Miss Dale, •' when the time 
 for the singing of birds is come, we shall recognize 
 the signal for your departure." 
 
 '' You must not drive me away quite so soon; 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 83 
 
 I must, at least see the sweetbriar hedge in bloom 
 before I go." 
 
 He walked to the window as he spoke, and 
 Mrs. Gilbert, fancying he was becoming impatient 
 to conclude his visit, proposed returning home, 
 but Miss Dale, claiming an old promise of her 
 friend's, insisted on detaining her till the follow- 
 ing day, and Surrey was allowed to take his de- 
 parture alone. 
 
 It was some time since the friends had had 
 opportunity for indulging in any lengthened con- 
 versation, and with little interruption the day 
 passed on with them in a flow of talk abounding 
 in reminiscences of old scenes and old friends, in- 
 teresting to both; but as twilight began to steal 
 into the apartment, insensibly they touched on 
 topics of too mournful a cast, and at the mention 
 of more than one distant grave there was a pang 
 at the heart of each. 
 
 Silence followed for some little time. Presently 
 Miss Dale approached the window, through the 
 growing darkness, looked stedfastlyon the horizon, 
 and as suddenly it became illuminated by a gleam 
 
84 THE GILBERTS 
 
 of the evening sky, " How Leautifully it is shining 
 on the sea now," she murmured. 
 
 The observation was caught by her friend: 
 "My dear Louisa," she cried, " how you love that 
 restless element." 
 
 '' I do." 
 
 " But 1 doubt very much whether altogether 
 it exercises a salutary influence on you. I re- 
 member on your last return from the sea-side 
 both your health and spirits appeared strangely 
 shattered." 
 
 "No wonder, Margaret, no wonder! I had 
 experienced a fearful shock then;" and Miss 
 Dale involuntarily shuddered, and notwithstand- 
 ing the deepening twilight her sudden pallor 
 was perceptible. " You have heard nothing of 
 this before,*' she continued presently, in answer 
 to her friend's expression of astonishment, " be- 
 cause I had the idea that by speaking of it I 
 should deepen the miserable impression it had 
 left on my mind. I believe, however, that I 
 judged unwisely, for assuredly my recollection of 
 it is as vivid as ever, and I will now give you a 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 85 
 
 circumstantial account of what did actually befal 
 me. But that I am alive to tell the tale is suf- 
 ficient in itself to prevent your being able to 
 realize a tithe of the horror through which I 
 passed." 
 
 " I am full of painful curiosity, and most 
 eager to hear this history," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 '^ I must relate it in my own way. You must 
 have patience with me." 
 
 " I am all ear." 
 
 " Listen, thea, as if you were a magistrate 
 taking my deposition !" 
 
86 THE GILBI-RTS 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 '* When last I went to the sea-side, on a part 
 of the coast I had never before visited," said 
 Miss Dale, commencing her recital, " some of my 
 relations accompanied me; and we spent a few 
 weeks there together pleasantly enough. When 
 the time fixed for our departure arrived, I at the 
 last moment decided on postponing mine. The 
 sea air and baths were benefiting my health, and 
 therefore, for the sake of enjoying those advan- 
 tages a few weeks longer, 1 allowed my com- 
 panions to go without me, in spite of their per- 
 suasions to the contrary. The lodgings we had 
 been occupying were already promised to another 
 party, consequently I was under the necessity of at 
 
AXD THIIl GUKSTS. 87 
 
 once providing myself with new quarters; Init 
 this in a place crowded with visitors already, and 
 with a regatta coming on, I found no easy task. I 
 had been seeking in vain in various directions 
 for the accommodation I required, when a heavy 
 storm of rain drove me for shelter into a draper's 
 shop, and while there I enquired of the person 
 serving in it, if he could direct me to any house 
 where I should be likely to find the sort of 
 apartments I was in search of. He answered 
 that he knew^ of no vacant lodgings at all. But 
 at this moment a highly respectable looking 
 young woman, who like myself was taking 
 shelter from the rain, and had heard my inquiry, 
 stepped forward, saying that she was certain an 
 aunt of hers could accommodate me as I wished, 
 and offered to conduct me to her house. On the 
 cessation of the storm, I gladly availed myself 
 of the young person's proposal, and considered 
 myself fortunate on finding the information she 
 Lad given me correct, and that I could at once 
 be suitably lodged. That the house to which I 
 had been brought was a private boarding estab- 
 
88 THE GILBERTS 
 
 lishmeiit for ladies, I deemed by no means an 
 objection ; the mistress of it being manifestly a 
 person of respectability; and within an hour 
 I was comfortably installed there. You 
 wonder perhaps, Margaret, why about a matter 
 apparently so insignificant as a mere change of 
 lodging, I am thus precise in detail ; but if I tell 
 this history at all, I must, as I before said, tell 
 it in my own way; and in the course of my 
 narration, I cannot refrain from numbering, as 
 it were, the various petty links in that chain of 
 circumstances by which, as towards the brink of 
 a precipice, I was blindly conducted to where a 
 great peril awaited me. But I must take up 
 the broken thread of my narrative." 
 
 " It had proceeded," said Mrs. Gilbert, " only 
 as far as your entering your new lodging — a 
 boarding-house, as it proved." 
 
 ^' True ; well, I found a quiet party there, 
 with whom, however, I had little more intercourse 
 than was absolutely necessary ; the chief part of 
 my time being spent in solitary seaside rambles 
 or reading in my own room. At the expiration 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 89 
 
 of a few weeivs the season began to wane, and 
 the company in the house ahiiost daily became 
 less. I was myself thinking of departure, when 
 one morning, taking my accustomed lonely stroll 
 on the shore I was suddenly seized with a feeling 
 of illness; I sat down on a bench, luckily at 
 hand, hoping that a few minutes rest would 
 restore me; but instead of this, I was presently 
 conscious of becoming so rapidly w^orse, that I 
 knew, unless I could so far exert myself as at 
 once to proceed home, I should be utterly unable, 
 without assistance, to reach it at all. I rose up, 
 therefore, though it seemed to me that I had 
 scarcely the power to do so, and with much 
 difficulty succeeded byslo.v steps, interrupted by 
 frequent halting on the w^ay, to accomplish my 
 return. Unobserved, I entered the house and 
 proceeded to my own chamber. Nearly faint- 
 ing I cast myself upon the bed and had lain 
 there I know not how long, but it must have 
 been during several hours, when I was roused 
 from the state of stupor rather than slumber 
 into which I had fallen, by the prolonged ringing 
 
90 THE GILBERTS 
 
 of a sonorous bell : it was the summons to 
 dinner, and finding that I paid no attention to 
 it, a servant presently afterwards entered my 
 apartment to tell me the company had assembled. 
 With difficulty finding strength for utterance, I 
 answered that I did not require dinner, and 
 although my illness must have been fully 
 apparent, without enquiry she left me. 
 
 *' I was just at this time accidentally without a 
 servant of my own : but hitherto, my requirements 
 being few, I had experienced little inconvenience 
 from the want of a special personal attendant ; 
 now, however, I felt my need of one to be impera- 
 tive, for I was entirely helpless. As evening 
 drew on I contrived, with some difficulty, to 
 raise myself sufficiently to ring my bell, and 
 bade the servant who answered it to desire her 
 mistress to come and speak with me. Without 
 much delay my request was complied with, and 
 on my landlady's entrance she appeared greatly 
 astonished at the condition in which she found 
 me, and at once suggested my having medical 
 advice. I empowered her to summon a phy- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 91 
 
 sician, and also begged her to lose no time in 
 hiring a servant for me ; not a professed nurse, 
 I said; and she promised that before night, she 
 Avould seek out a suitable attendant. Meanwhile, 
 with the aid of a servant, she assisted in un- 
 dressing me, for on my return in the morning, 
 overcome by faintness, I had lain down with- 
 out the power of doing more than divest myself 
 of my bonnet and shawl, and had ever since 
 continued utterly helpless. In a little while I 
 was made comparatively comfortable, by being 
 placed in bed, and afterwards refreshed with a 
 cup of tea. Before putting away the apparel I 
 had lately worn, my landlady carefully took from 
 the pocket of my gov/n, my purse and bunch of 
 keys, and depositing them in a little silk bag 
 that chanced to be lying on the toilet table, 
 placed it under my pillow, for the sake, she said, 
 of its being conveniently within my reach when 
 I might need to have recourse to its contents. 
 
 " By the time my chamber had been duly put 
 in order, I was becoming worse, and a physician 
 was hastily summone^l. He came almost imme- 
 
92 THE GILBERTS 
 
 diately, and from the remedies he prescribed, I 
 was conseioiis that he considered me seriously 
 ill. On his departure he ordered that I should 
 not be left alone during the night, and my land- 
 lady, who was present, gave him to understand 
 that such a contingency had been provided 
 against. Afterwards in reply to soi^e enquiry 
 of mine as to the sort of person hired for my at- 
 tendant, she told me that, knowing there could 
 be little probability of procuring on so short a 
 notice anything like an experienced servant, the 
 day being Sunday, increasing, she added, the 
 difficulty of doing so, she had engaged in the 
 place of such a one a respectable woman, who was 
 not, however, a professed sick nurse, though oc- 
 casionally acting in that capacity, and who 
 could at once come to me. In my then helpless 
 condition, I was thankful to hear that attend- 
 ance of any sort had been provided for me; and 
 when presently, after a low tap at the door, the 
 woman just mentioned entered my chamber, 
 although her appearance, clearly enough, I 
 thought, in spite of my landlady's representation, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 93 
 
 denoted that lier habitual vocation was merely 
 that of a nurse of an inferior class, and I had, 
 in the first instance, stipulated for quite another 
 kind of attendant, I was hj this time feeling so 
 exceedingly ill that 1 could not but acknowledge 
 to myself it was in point of fact a nurse, and 
 nothing but a nurse, that I absolutely required. 
 Seeing, therefore, tliat this woman, however 
 humble her condition, was scrupulously neat in 
 attire, and becoming each moment more painfully 
 conscious of my weakness, I was by no means 
 dissatisfied on her proceeding. at once to station 
 herself in a large chair at my bedside. I had 
 not yet spoken to her, but presently on my en- 
 quiring by what name I should addiess her, she 
 answered that she was always called " Xiirse " 
 by her employers. The woman's voice was pe- 
 culiar — harsh in tone, but carefully iiodulated 
 to a low key ; and the expression ot her coun- 
 tenance, which I now for the first time observed, 
 was, I thought, a significant accompaniment to 
 it. In the fierce black eyes gleaming forth from 
 the didl sallowness of her complexion I could de- 
 
91 THE GILBEKT? 
 
 tect, I believed, cunning as well as boldness: 
 and the stubborn lines about the closely com- 
 pressed lips denoted, it seemed to me, more than 
 ordinary resolution. Altogether I was struck 
 by the repulsiveness of the countenance, and 
 turned away from my contemplation of the large 
 pallid face with a feeling of disquiet that I found 
 it difficult to quell. The woman was standing 
 when next I loo-ked towards her ; and I then per- 
 ceived that, although not tall, she v/as of re- 
 markably sturdy frame ; and that apparently her 
 age was not much beyond fifty. 
 
 " I have now told you how unfavourable was 
 the impression I received of this new attendant 
 on her first appearance, but I very soon took 
 myself severely to task for having formed, as I 
 believed, a harsh and unjust opinion ; for as my 
 illness proceeded I found her patient, vigilant, 
 and unwearied in attention. I must not, how- 
 ever, omit to mention that, prior to this change 
 of judgment, on the morning immediately fol- 
 lowing her arrival, I was disagreeably struck by 
 the watchful glitter of her eyes as T perceived 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 95 
 
 her, stealthily as it seemed, observing the opening 
 of my purse, to which I was having recourse in 
 order to hand over to my landlady a few sove- 
 reigns, in anticipation of expenses it might be ne- 
 cessary to incur on my account. Later on the same 
 day a sort of indefinite suspicion again crossed 
 my mind. I had just before given this woman 
 my keys, desiring her to unlock a box contain- 
 ing some of my wearing apparel and a few other 
 articles, and directed her to transfer a portion of 
 its contents to a chest of drawers standing in the 
 room. She had obeyed my instructions, and ap- 
 peared about to close the box, when there was a 
 pause in her movements. Raising myself a little 
 on my pillow the better to observe her, I saw 
 that my jewel-case was in her hands and open. 
 You know, Margaret, my heir-loojn of a few 
 diamonds; on these her gaze was intently riveted. 
 I spoke to her, bidding her put back the jewel- 
 case and lock the box, but vrithout seeming to 
 hear me she continued her inspection. At last, 
 however, as if satisfied with her view of the 
 precious ornaments, she carefully closed the lid 
 
96 THE GILBERTS 
 
 over them and deposited the case where it before 
 lay. But her attention was now attracted to 
 other glittering objects, a gold watch, tlie works 
 of which being at fault, T had put aside, and 
 consigned, with other valuables not in daily use, 
 to the safe keeping of my box, and a gold chain 
 and bracelets were, one after the other, handled 
 and examined by her. I now exerted my weak- 
 ened voice to the utmost, and in 51 tone of as 
 much authority as I could command, ordered her 
 to cease meddling with my property and forth- 
 with lock my box. This time she obeyed on the 
 instant, but her eyes glittered fiercely on me, I 
 thought, when after demanding the keys from 
 her I put them in the bag beneath my pillow." 
 
 "Oh, how could you venture to keep such a 
 fearful creature as this about you?" ci'ied Mrs. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 " There was no alternative ; and in the capacity 
 of nurse she was really invaluable to me," an- 
 swered Miss Dale. " I have t(^ld you with what 
 care she tended me, and this in no wise relaxed 
 after the affair I have related ; on the contrary, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 97 
 
 it seemed to me that her attention redoubled, and 
 it was not long before I reproached myself for 
 assigning any significant meaning to the glance 
 I had met, and for having judged harshly the 
 liberty taken with my treasures, which I con- 
 sidered was after all probably a mere manifesta- 
 tion of ignorant curiosity. And 1 very shortly 
 ceased to think of the circumstance at all, 
 and became too ill to feel concern about any 
 matter." 
 
 " And in this sad condition was this woman 
 your only attendant? Did not any of the party 
 in the house proffer their assistance — or at least 
 the landlady overlook your sick room?" 
 
 " I told you, I think, that when I was first 
 taken ill the company in the house had begun to 
 disperse, and in the course of a few days, as I 
 was informed, all of them had gone. As for my 
 landlady, she, after the first day or two of my 
 illness, in no way endeavoured to alleviate the 
 misery of my condition; indeed, she rarely ap- 
 proached me, and never wdthout bewailing that 
 I had brought the trouble of sickness to her 
 
 VOL. I. r 
 
98 THE GILBERTS 
 
 house, and I gathered from various circumstances 
 that she was most anxious that I should be re- 
 moved from it without loss of time, lest, as the 
 nurse one day told me, my death should occur 
 there, an event which she considered might have 
 a disadvantngeous effect on her establishment. 
 My physician, however, I found strenuously op- 
 posed all thought of my removal, insisting that 
 my state was too critical to justify him in giving 
 his consent to such a measure. I extracted this 
 opinion myself from him, when on some occasion, 
 urged by the obvious desire of my landlady to 
 get rid of me, I had expressed a wish, if possible, 
 to be carried elsewhere." 
 
 '' Your position must have been miserable, 
 indeed. But why did not you summon some of 
 your relations or friends?" 
 
 '' I was too ill to take any step for myself— 
 too ill, indeed, for any wish to suggest itself to 
 my mind beyond that of obtaining relief for the 
 moment. My very soul as well as ray body had 
 become prostrate, and T cared little whether life 
 or death should be the issue of mv sickness." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 99 
 
 ^' What was the nature of it?" enquired }Jrs. 
 Gilbert. 
 
 '' It was pleurisy ; and so difficult to conquer 
 that tlie severe remedies administered left me 
 more dead than alive, when occasionally they 
 succeeded in abating the disease." 
 
 '' Were you satisfied with your physician ?" 
 
 " Perfectly ; his attention was unremitting. 
 At the heiaht of my illness he visited me three 
 or fcur times a day, and in every way evinced 
 genuine anxiety for my recoveiy. He w-anted 
 experience, perhaps, for lie was a young man, 
 but on the whole I am inclined to believe that 
 I could hardly have fallen into better hands." 
 ' '' But I am surprised he allowed that strange 
 nurse to remain with you." 
 
 '' I made no complaint of her, and he ^aw 
 that she v/as helpful and vigilant. He did, how- 
 ever, propose that she should have an assistant; 
 but to this the woman herself strenuously ob- 
 jected, insisting that it was quite unnecessary, 
 for that she was perfectly capable of watching 
 me both by day and night as much as I required. 
 F 2 
 
100 THE GILBERTS 
 
 And this indeed seemed to be the case; her 
 strength never appeared to flag, and she was 
 always ready to obey my lightest summons." 
 
 *' What, night after night did this one woman 
 sit up with you?" 
 
 '' That was not requisite. Every night she 
 brought in a mattress from an adjoining chamber 
 and made up a temporary bed beside mine, on 
 which occasionally she lay down and slept; but 
 at my slightest movement she awoke, and almost 
 before I could rouse myself to speak, her vigilant 
 eyes were bending over me. I often seem to see 
 those eyes," added Miss Dale, shuddering; but 
 presently recovering herself, and proceeding 
 with her recital: " I have been telling you," she 
 said, " of my nurse's zeal and alacrity in serving 
 me ; but on the sixth night of my illness there 
 was a remarkable change in her conduct. She 
 appeared gloomy and sullen, and manifested, I 
 thought, cruel indifference to my suffering. I 
 had become worse during the last twenty-four 
 hours, and by my doctor's order she was sitting 
 up with me, and had, as I well remember, taken 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 101 
 
 her station near the window, whence she seemed 
 often to be looking out into the darkness. I 
 had had more than one fainting fit in the 
 course of the day, and through the night had 
 suffered greatly from exhaustion; but now, after 
 many weary hours had gone by, there was creep- 
 ing over me a feeling of more than exhaustion : 
 I thought, indeed, that life itself was departing, 
 and almost involuntarily stretching forth my 
 arms toward the silent Avatcher in my chamber, 
 the only human being within reach of my 
 appeal, T cried : 
 
 '" O! come to m^e — I am dying!' 
 
 " ' And if you are dying, what's the good of 
 calling out to me V answered the woman, in a 
 harsh, stern tone, and without approaching, 
 fixing on me her glittering eyes. I closed mine 
 in very terror, but it was only for a moment I 
 was thus overpowered ; the excitement of alarm 
 giving an impetus to my being, called back the 
 fleeting powers of life; I felt the sudden rally- 
 ing of my strength, and, with a vigour that was 
 new to me, half raised -myself from my recum- 
 
102 THE GILBERTS 
 
 bent posture, and looked steadily forward. 
 joyful sight! There was a ray of morning 
 stealing through an opening of the window cur- 
 tain, and though the terrible eyes still glared at 
 me, I was at once delivered from my vague 
 terror, feeling instinctively that there was 
 safety in the heavenly presence of day. It was 
 not that I had been in darkness, for the lamp 
 still steadfastly burnc^d; but while night reigned 
 without, the mere light of the chamber could 
 bestow no sense of security." 
 
 " But what was the fear that so cruelly assailed 
 you?" 
 
 '' It had no definite shape, even at the height 
 of my alarm, and faded into complete indistinct- 
 ness as morning advanced, and the nurse lay 
 down to rest; and wJien, afterwards, she was 
 attending me with a return of her accustomed 
 alacrity, I took shame to myself for having, with 
 vague and inexplicable suspicion, regarded the 
 indications of neglect and impatience, which, 
 through her really arduous service she had on 
 the preceding nigiit, fur the first time manifested; 
 
AND TUEIR GUESTS. 103 
 
 and while I was taking this view of the subject, 
 the woman, as if reading my thoughts, very 
 humbly apologised for her delinquencies, alleging, 
 in excuse for them, that she believed she had 
 been neither asleep nor awake, and had hardly 
 known what she said or did." 
 
 " This explanation would not have satisfied 
 me, however," said Mis. Gilbert. '' And certainly 
 in your place I could nut have kept such a person 
 about me." 
 
 '^ My dear Margaret, in my place you would 
 have done exactly as I did. 1 was ill and weak 
 beyond description, and had no mental energy 
 at command. This nurse had been provided for 
 my attendant, as I was told, the only one then 
 to be obtained, and it seemed to me that if I dis- 
 missed her I might perish for want of aid in the 
 interval of waiting for her place to be supplied." 
 
 '' Yet, if you had given but a hint of your sus- 
 picion or dissatisfaction in regard to this woman 
 to your doctor, he, without doubt, would have 
 taken her dismissal upon himself, and at once 
 have provided you with an efficient and trust- 
 w^orthy nurse." 
 
104 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " 1 never saw him but in the presence of the 
 woman herself; and I was at this time so utterly 
 prostrate in mind as well as in body, that I ab- 
 solutely had not the courage to take any measure 
 inimical to her. She had, in fact, acquired over 
 me the sort of ascendancy, so commonly exercised 
 by the strong over the weak, and this circum- 
 stance you must not fail to bear in mind as I 
 proceed with my history." 
 
 '' I begin now fullj to comprehend all the dif- 
 ficulties of your sad position," said Mrs. Gilbert, 
 "arid I expect presently to hear that this wretched 
 nurse did not long continue on her good be- 
 ^haviour, in spite of her humble apologies." 
 
 " She had hardly made these apologies," re- 
 sumed Miss Dale, " when suddenly I caught sight 
 of an expression of her countenance so vividly re- 
 calling to me the fearful gaze I had encountered 
 during the previous night, that for awhile I lay 
 actually trembling under its influence. The ex- 
 cess of the panic presently subsided, and I began 
 to reason with myself on the folly of it, and to 
 make an effort to turn my thoughts into another 
 channel; but in spite of my endeavour one idea 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 105 
 
 became paramount, — a dread of passing the en- 
 suing night under the sole guardianship of my 
 appointed watcher. Stimulated to action by the 
 poignancy of this terror, my mind gathered tem- 
 porary strength, and almost for the first time 
 since my illness I was able to endeavour to make 
 an effort in my own behalf. My doctor had said 
 on the preceding evening that, unless he should 
 find me better to-day, he would apprise some of 
 my family of my illness, and had enquired how 
 soon after the despatch of his letter it would be 
 possible for them to be with me. Not till late 
 in the following day, I had told him. But now 
 it occurred to me that from the little pier within 
 sight of the house in which I was lodged, a steam 
 packet daily started for a neighbouring sea-port, 
 and thus that, earlier than by transmission of a 
 letter through the post, intelligence of my illness 
 might be conveyed to one of my relations resid- 
 ing there, who would I knew gladly afford me all 
 the aid in his power ; and that having no member 
 of his family capable of attending me, for he was a 
 widower with only young children, he would not, 
 
 F 5 
 
106 THE GILBERTS 
 
 I was confident, refuse to allow one of his ser- 
 vants, whom I well knew as a valuable and trust- 
 worthy person, to come to me without loss of 
 time; and the return of the packet would, as I 
 concluded, enable her to be with me before night 
 set in. I theref re detera\ined, if possible, to 
 write a few word;-, stating my request, and to 
 entrust to my doctor, whose early visit I was 
 every minute expecting, the forwarding this 
 express. There were writing materials at hand, 
 and 1 presently astonished the nurse by desiring 
 lier to give me pen, ink, and paper, and to place 
 a book by way of a desk before me. And now 
 it was necessary to direct her to raise me up a 
 little and support me in a sitting posture, the 
 better to enable me to write. She silently 
 obeyed my instructions; but while thus being 
 upheld by her J felt that she was herself heavily 
 leaning forward and bending over me; and when 
 with a feeble hand I slowly scrawled on the page 
 of letter paper before me, ' I am very ill. Spare 
 Charlotte to be vvith me to-night^' I suspected 
 that my petition was exposed to her scrutiny, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 107 
 
 and turning towjirds her, on the conclusion of 
 my task, I perceived that her gaze was indeed 
 intently riveted on the words I had written. I 
 at once therefore told her that I was requesting 
 to have a family servant sent to me; and then, 
 as well as I was able, beginning to fold my de- 
 spatch, I again asked for the pen in order to 
 direct it, that it might be in readiness, I said, 
 for my doctor to take charge of. The woman 
 snatched the paper out of my hand. 
 
 " ' You shall not give this to the doctor,' she 
 exclaimed in a voice loud with rage. 
 
 '' ' How dare you speak to me thus?' I cried. 
 
 " ' How dare I, indeed? How dare you think 
 of setting a woman over me? I will not have 
 it done, I tell you,' she said vehemently, fixing 
 on me her fierce gaze. 
 
 '^ Trembling I sank back on my pillow. The 
 woman bent over me. 
 
 " ' I ask your pardon,' she said, in an altered 
 tone, ' my temper was up, and no wonder, for it's 
 hard to be used in this way after watching you 
 by day and by night all through your illness. 
 
108 THE GILBERTS 
 
 and with your friends coming to- morrow and 
 they not to know the care that I've taken of 
 you, but the very last night to have a stranger 
 put over me to take away all the credit of it 
 from me.' 
 
 ^' ' Give me back the paper,' I said. But the 
 woman continued to withhold it, ' I did not think 
 rd been spending my strength for a lady who 
 could serve me like this,' she persisted ;' and 
 what's more I can't put up with it.' 
 
 '' I was becoming miserably oppressed ; I could 
 feel her hot breath as she leaned over me, and 
 had no way of escape from her fixed gaze. 
 
 " ' I wan't more air,' I cried. But she did 
 not move; ^ you must not say anything to the 
 doctor about that letter,' she said, hissing the 
 words close to my ear. 
 
 '^ ' leave me ! leave me ! or I shall die,' 1 
 exclaimed in an agony. 
 
 " ' You must promise first,' she insisted. 
 
 " ' Go, go then,' I said in desperation. 
 
 " ' Do you promise?' she asked sternly. 
 
 '^ ' I do promise,' I answered, seeing no other 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 109 
 
 way of gaining present relief, and feeling indeed 
 that I had not strength for further opposition. 
 'I do promise.' I had hardly uttered the words 
 when ray doctor entered. The woman whispered, 
 ' remember,' as she made a pretence of arranging 
 my pillows, and did not remove her eyes from 
 me during his visit. He seemed surprised at 
 the state in which he found me, it was obviously 
 more unfavourable than he had expected. After 
 prescribing some remedies to be immediately ap- 
 plied, he said he should call again in the course 
 of two or three hours to see their effect. Just as 
 he was leaving the chamber he came back again 
 to my bed side, once more felt my pulse, and 
 telling me that he should lose no time in writing 
 to my relations, enquired if I had any especial 
 message for them. The nurse was again busy- 
 ing herself with my pillow, and I felt that her 
 gaze was on me. 
 
 " ' No,' I answered, ' I merely wished them to 
 be made acquainted with my illness.' " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mrs. Gilbert, " you ought not 
 to have regarded the promise that wicked woman 
 
110 THE GILBERTS 
 
 extorted from you. You should have told him 
 everything." 
 
 " I know that I should ; but it seemed then 
 impossible to me. And, indeed, the conviction 
 that I was growing rapidly worse, coupled with 
 something unusual in my doctor's manner, made 
 me suspect that death was not far off. And 
 with that solemn prospect I began to lose sight 
 of everything else; and very soon all thought of 
 the plan I had so vainly endeavoured to arrange, 
 passed from my mind." 
 
 '' And how did the nurse now conduct herself 
 towards you?" 
 
 " With the utmost zeal : sparing herself no 
 exertion, and applying all the remedies ordered 
 with extreme promptitude. So genuine, indeed, 
 did her solicitude for my recovery appear, that 
 I could not forbear thanking her for the assi- 
 duous attention she bestowed on me. But in 
 spite of all the means used to abate my malady, 
 it continued to increase, and when the doctor, 
 according to promise, paid his second visit, he 
 made no attempt to conceal from me tliat I was 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 1 1 1 
 
 in a very precarious condition. The knowledge 
 of my danger, however, in no wise agitated me. 
 The sense of physical pain and distress seemed 
 to absorb all my faculties, and the prospect of 
 death brought no terror now, for imagination 
 "^vas powerless. I lay in a passive condition, 
 with the full conciousness of a miserable state of 
 being, and capable of no feeling beyond this. 
 But soon I had a third visit from my doctor, 
 when he prescribed for me again, and this time 
 with extraordinary success; for, under the influ- 
 ence of the nev7 remedies ordered, my malady 
 rapidly abated, and when towards evening my 
 kind physician once more visited me, he told me 
 with a joyful countenance tliat all danger was 
 now over." 
 
 ^' From my innermost heart a cry of thankful- 
 ness arose, as freed form the miserable oppression 
 under which I had suffered, I became conscious 
 of the new vigour that, like a gush of healthful 
 air refreshing a heavy atmosphere, brought to 
 my languishing being sudden exhilaration. 
 Thoughts of dear friends, of pleasant homes, of 
 
112 THE GILBERTS 
 
 trees, of waves, of sunsets, came crowding to my 
 mind, and indiiFerent as I had so lately been to 
 the near prospect of death, I now felt that life 
 was precious, and rejoiced in the renovated force 
 of the subtile mystery stirring freshly the frame 
 that but a little hour ago had seemed so ready 
 for the grave. But my respite from peril was 
 short. I was soon in greater jeopardy than that 
 of sickness," said Miss Dale with an altered voice, 
 and the light of a lamp, which a moment before 
 had been brought into the apartment, revealed 
 the pallid hue overspreading not only her cheeks 
 but also her trembling lips. After a pause, how- 
 ever, that restored her to composure, resuming 
 her narrative, she said : 
 
 " In the prospect of my recovery the nurse 
 appeared unfeignedly to rejoice, and busied her- 
 self about me incessantly, so that her zeal in my 
 service somewhat disturbed me, and I was glad 
 when late in the evening she proposed leaving 
 me awhile, in order to make a few purchases, she 
 said, of tea, arrowroot, and other trifling things, 
 of which, according to her account, I stood in 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 113 
 
 need. Before going she, of course, asked me for 
 money, and I gave her some, taking it from the 
 bag that contained likewise my keys, and that 
 had, as I have ah^eady mentioned, for the sake 
 of my convenience, been placed beneath my pillow, 
 where now on putting back my purse I again 
 mechanically thrust it. The woman went out 
 immediately afterwards, but was not long absent; 
 and appeared I thought, on her return in a 
 strangely excited state, talking Avith extraor- 
 dinary volubility, and hurrying over the arrange- 
 ments that she called * settling me for the night,' 
 with most unusual rapidity. Still, owing to her 
 having gone out in the course of the evening, it 
 was later than ordinary before my bed was 
 finally smoothed, and I was feeling very weary 
 and inclined to sleep when she suddenly left my 
 apartment. I supposed at first that she was 
 merely gone to the adjoining chamber to fetch 
 the mattress that she was in the habit of using 
 as a couch for herself, but when a very long time 
 elapsed without her return I began to wonder 
 what could occasion her unusual absence ; and 
 
114 THE GILBERTS 
 
 then there came to me the recollection of the 
 events of tlie early morning, which in the alter- 
 nations of my illness during the day I had ahso- 
 lutely ceased to think of. Now, however, all 
 the suspicious circumstances in relation to the 
 overthrow of the plan tliat I hadforuied for this 
 night's security occurred to my mind with full 
 force. And yet, as I reasoned with myself, what 
 danger could the absence of the woman portend? 
 it was her j^reseMce that had been so fearful to me. 
 As I continued to consider the subject in a variety 
 of bearings, presently a new light seemed to 
 break on me, and I surmised that notwithstand- 
 ing the zeal in my service slie had so recently 
 displayed, the woman had not forgotten the sus- 
 picion that without doubt I had betrayed, and 
 was now altogether absenting herself from me in 
 consequence. A harmless revenge, I thought, 
 and having arrived at this satisfactory conclusion 
 I began to compose myself to rest. Just as I 
 was falling off to sleep, however, I was roused by 
 the opening of my door, and looking towards it I 
 perceived the nurse enter. 
 
AJ^D THEIR GUESTS. 115 
 
 "'It is very late, where have you been?' I 
 said. 
 
 " ' Yes, it is very late,' she answered, ' but I'm 
 only just coine in; I've been a good step, and I'll 
 tell you where to, I've been to the doctor's.' 
 
 '' ' To the doctor's!' I cried, ' what for?' 
 
 '' ' Well, I'll speak the truth,' she said, ' 'twas 
 because I saw that you was not so well as you 
 ought to be.' 
 
 " 'You did wrong to go to him,' I said, 'I am 
 very sorry that be should have the trouble of 
 coming to me at this late hour, there is no sort 
 of occasion for it ; I am better to-night thiin I 
 have been at all since my illness.' 
 
 " ' You are not better, though you may think 
 it; there are bad signs about you,' she said, 
 approaching my bed-side and fixing a penetrat- 
 ing gaze on me. 
 
 '• ' What do you mean? ' I cried. 
 
 " ' I mean what I say,' she answered. ' But the 
 doctor isn't comino^ to vou. His house was all 
 shut up for the night when I got there, but I 
 knocked and knocked till I got the door opened 
 
116 THE GILBERTS 
 
 to me; and after keeping me waiting a precious 
 time he gets up, for he was gone to bed, and 
 comes down to me; and when I told him what 
 was the matter he said says he, ' Nurse, you 
 are one in a thousand, I could trust any patient's 
 life to you. You did quite right to come to me.' 
 And then he goes away for a minute, and when 
 he comes back, he says, ' you need not go to the 
 druggist's, I'll send something myself,' and so 
 he gives me this little bottle and shews me what's 
 in it, and says, ' you mix that with some water 
 and give it to the lady to take directly you gets 
 home, and she'll be all right in the morning.' 
 
 " ' Shew me the bottle,' I said. 
 
 " She held before me a small vial containing 
 a minute portion of light coloured liquid. 
 
 " 'You may put it aside: I shall not take it,' 
 I said. 
 
 " ' You'll die if you don't; the doctor said as 
 much,' cried the woman. 
 
 " 'You did not tell me that before,' I ob- 
 served. 
 
 " ' Ah, but he did say it though,' she persisted. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 117 
 
 " I began to grow bewildered. ' What is it 
 you mean? What is the matter with me?' I 
 cried. ' But I don't believe you know.' 
 
 " ' Don't I ? ' exclaimed the woman, ' I 
 haven't nursed so many sick people before now 
 without learning what's their bad signs,' and she 
 uttered a low derisive laugh. 
 
 '' I shuddered. 
 
 '' ' Come, take the physic,' she said authori- 
 tatively, pouring into a wine-glass half filled 
 with water, the few drops contained in the vial, 
 ' take the physic,' and she held the glass to my 
 lips. 
 
 '' I paused an instant — and in that instant there 
 passed through my mind a rush of conilicting 
 thoughts; but all whispering to me of danger. 
 It was deep in the night — the house was 
 wrapped in silence. Except in this one chamber, 
 Avhere now the eyes of the watcher and the 
 watched so piercingly confronted each other, all 
 were buried in sleep; I was at the mercy of an 
 unscrupulous hireling; supposing her purpose to 
 be evil, if I did not swallow the draught pre- 
 
118 THE GILBERTS 
 
 sented tr; me, she \vouId doubtless find other 
 means to effect her object. If, on the other 
 hand, slie was not dealing treacherously by me 
 — if she had spoken truth — if, indeed, she had 
 perceived symptoms of danger where I had appre- 
 hended none, and the physician had, as she said, 
 enjoined ray having immediate recourse to the 
 remedy slie brought, should I not be throwing 
 away a chance of my life by refusing to take it! 
 There v.-as hazard in either alternative, but of 
 one or the other I must take the risk, and si- 
 lently commending myself to God, I drank the 
 offered potion." 
 
 " Oh !" cried her friend, " what a perilous choice 
 you made ! Why did you not rather alarm the 
 household? Had you no bell with which you 
 could have rung such a peal as would have 
 aroused the deepest sleepers?" 
 
 " The woman was standing over me watchful 
 of my every movement, and what charge could 
 I have brought against her, if indeed it had been 
 possible to raise an alarm? I could have stated 
 only my suspicions, which undoubtedly she would 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 119 
 
 have indignantly repudiated, and tlie attempted 
 accusation would in all probability have excited 
 her revenge and thus increased my peril." 
 "How terrible was your posiLion!" 
 " It was terrible. After swallowing the draught 
 I leaned back on ray pillow, but determined, if 
 possible, to keep my eyes unclosed. The curtains 
 of my bed were partially undrawn, and I was 
 thus enabled to watch the movements of the 
 nurse. There was a remarkable alteration in 
 lier demeanour from the moment she received 
 from my hand the glass I had emptied of its 
 contents. She became perfectly silent, and in 
 traversing the room moved so cautiously that her 
 usually heavy step was almost inaudible. I in- 
 tently observed her every proceeding, and noticed, 
 not without an access of alarm, that she made 
 no preparation as usual to retire to rest. Indeed 
 the mattress and pillows that on each previous 
 night she had carefully arranged for herself as a 
 couch, she had not this night brou-j,ht into the 
 chamber; nor did she even place herself in the 
 large chair beside my bed, or make any altera- 
 
120 THE GILBERTS 
 
 tion in her apparel ; but after very quietly setting 
 down the empty wine glass on a table, with noise- 
 less movements, she proceeded forthwith to seat 
 herself on my large travelling-box that stood at 
 the farther end of the apartment, exactly oppo- 
 site the opening of my curtain. In this position 
 the light of a candle that burned near fell 
 directly on the countenance of the woman, and 
 I perceived it was of ghastly paleness, and that 
 her fierce black eyes were immoveably fixed on 
 me, while from time to time her whitened lips 
 moved, and I heard her mutter in broken sen- 
 tences, ^ It's swallowed ! How long ! — how long !' 
 '' After awhile she rose softly, with stealthy 
 footsteps approached my bed, and bending over 
 it scrutinizingly surveyed me. My gaze steadily 
 confronted hers, and she presently withdrew, re- 
 turning to her former position. It was not long 
 hoivever till she again cautiously drew near, and 
 contemplated me silently as before, and again I 
 returned her scrutiny. Once more she withdrew, 
 but this time instead of reseating herself ad- 
 vanced towards tlie table on which she had 
 
AND TUEIR GUESTS. 121 
 
 placed the wine glass, and where stood a candle 
 burning. Watching her with unflinching in- 
 tensity, I san- that she took from her pocket a 
 very small white paper package, Y/hich she care- 
 fully unfolded and then emptied the contents 
 into the glass from which I had recently drunk, 
 next pouring a little water there also. For a 
 fevv minutes afterwards her attitude denoted that 
 she was intently scrutinizing the potion she had 
 prepared, but as she bent over it her countenance 
 was hidden from me. Presently, however, rais- 
 ing herself from this stooping posture, she took 
 the glass in her hand and held it up towards the 
 light as if for yet more careful inspection of its 
 contents, and I then caught sight of lier face. 
 It was of an almost livid hue, and wore an expres- 
 sion of fear, I thought, as well as guilt; and 
 when the next moment, gasping and visibly 
 trembling, still holding the glass in her hand, 
 she slowly advanced towards me, the terror she 
 was under became yet more manifest. As she 
 drew near my bed-side and stood there, her sturdy 
 form absolutely shook, and she turned aside her 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 THE GILBERTS 
 
 countenance, seemingly unable to endure the gaze 
 I had fixed on it, as with a trembling hand she 
 held the glass towards me, and hoarsely whis' 
 pered, — 
 
 " ' Take this — it will do you good.' 
 
 " ' Let me see your face !' I cried vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " But she still averted it, repeating : ' Take 
 this.' 
 
 " ^ T will not take it,' I said. 
 
 " She immediately retreated, and again ap- 
 proaching the table, at once emptied the potion 
 she had oiFered me into a washhand basin that 
 stood there. Then taking up the white paper 
 in which had been wrapped that which she put 
 in the glass, she tore it into minute fragments, 
 and threw them also in the basin, pouring there 
 besides some tea left in a cup, and some un- 
 finished medicine from a bottle. Having done 
 thus she returned to her former seat on the box 
 facing my bed. T continued my strict observa- 
 tion, not once removing my gaze from her, 
 although notwithstanding the excitement of my 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 123 
 
 alarm, T felt from time to time almost over- 
 powered by a strong inclination to sleep, and 
 had great difficulty in keeping my eyelids reso- 
 lutely unclosed." 
 
 " Under all these dreadful circumstances, 
 what wonderful courage and self-possession you 
 had !" cried Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 "Not courage, but an intense watchfulness 
 inspired by fear. And now, as I continued my 
 vigilant observation, I found the woman's coun- 
 tenance terrible to look on. The expression of 
 it was not always the same. At one moment I 
 could perceive in the eyes so fiercely glittering, 
 a gleam of cruelty and, as it seemed to me, of 
 deadly hate. The next instant a painful spasm 
 appeared to convulse her whole frame, for her 
 body shook, while the involuntary working of 
 the muscles of the face revealed her endurance 
 of some sharp agony, and she wiped her brow as 
 if the damps of death were there. Then would 
 come a change — a look of dogged resolution — of 
 hard wickedness, which I could not behold 
 without knowing that my peril was imminent. 
 
 G 2 
 
124 THE GILBERTS 
 
 I now determined to secure, if possible, the 
 means of raising an alarm in the event of my 
 being subjected to any treacherous attack. 
 There was a bell-rope at the head of my bed, 
 but the handle of it hung too high for me to 
 reach without raising myself up in my bed, and 
 I durst not attempt any movement of this sort, 
 lest the nurse, whose gaze was on me, should 
 have a suspicion of my design and frustrate it. 
 But I now remembered that on the first evening 
 of my illness, on account of the bell handle 
 hanging above my reach, a long piece of string 
 had been fastened to it by my landlady, to enable 
 me, if I required it, to ring as I lay. It so 
 chanced that I had made no use of this string, 
 but it was still there, I knew ; the end of it 
 buried, as I believed, somewhere behind the 
 bolster of my bed. With the utmost caution, 
 that there might be no sound of my movement, 
 I slid my hand under the bolster in the direc- 
 tion that I thought the precious cord must lie, 
 and tliere to my infinite joy succeeded in seizing 
 hold of it. Fortunately, it was of considerable 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 125 
 
 length, and pulling it noiselessly into my bed, I 
 wound it many times round my wrist, in order 
 to be secure against any attempt that might be 
 made suddenly to wrest it from me. I had 
 hardly succeeded in effecting my object, when 
 the woman, who had not once taken her gaze off 
 me, slowly rose and approached my bed, beside 
 which she stood for a moment, silent and im- 
 moveable : but her eyes glared at me, and the 
 sound of her heavy and unequal breathing came 
 loudly on my ear. I secretly made a movement 
 to pull the bell-cord, but owing to my endeavour 
 to avoid detection, the effort was too feeble, and 
 I failed in my purpose of sounding an alarm. 
 I now lay perfectly still, gazing into the terrible 
 eyes, and fearful of making a trial to repeat my 
 attempt, lest the movement, being observed, 
 should hasten the dreadful catastrophe that I 
 believed to be impending. Presently the woman 
 drew yet nearer, and the next moment stooping 
 over me, and in a tone that boded treachery, 
 whispered : 
 
 " ' Let your dear nurse kiss you? 
 
126 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " She suddenly cast her arm round my neck. 
 
 "'Woman, you would murder me!' I cried; 
 And inspired by the urgency of my peril with 
 strength and courage almost miraculous, I re- 
 leased myself from her hold, and pushing her 
 forcibly from me, looked sternly on her guilty 
 countenance. At first, as if absolutely over- 
 powered by my resolution, she stood utterly mo- 
 tionless, but in another moment she had made a 
 step forward, and with outstretched arm was 
 again stooping over me, when impelled by fearful 
 agony, I uttered a scream loud and piercing. 
 
 " ' What ! you would raise the house, would 
 you? she cried, and I felt her hand on my 
 throat; but now, with the energy of despera 
 tion, I violently pulled the cord secured to my 
 wTist, and a startling peal of the bell instanta- 
 neously answered the movement. At the sur- 
 prise of this alarum the woman staggered back, 
 releasing my throat from her grasp, and casting 
 around her a quick glance of affright. Again 
 with all my strength I pulled the cord and 
 shrieked aloud. While the bell yet pealed, my 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 127 
 
 door was partially opened from the outside, and 
 the terrified face of my landlady peered into the 
 chamber. 
 
 " ' 1 save me ! save me !' I cried ; ' take this 
 woman from me ! she would murder me !' 
 
 " ' The poor lady's light-headed. The fever's 
 strong on her,' said the nurse. 
 
 ''■ 'It is false,' I exclaimed; 'I am not light- 
 headed. Take this wicked woman away ! ' 
 
 " But although I now perceived, besides my 
 landlady, a group of afi'righted looking females 
 in their white night-garments, standing at the 
 door-way, not one of them advanced. I rose up 
 and was about to make an attempt to leave my 
 bed, but the nurse held me back. 
 
 '' ' 0, come to me ! Come to me !' I cried im- 
 ploringly, stretching out my arms towards the 
 terrified household. ' Come to me ! ' 
 
 " 'Don't come near her! she's gone raving 
 mad ; but I'll manage her,' said the woman, and 
 with a strong grasp she held me down on my bed. 
 
 " ' I am not mad ! Will nobody come to my 
 help?' I exclaimed in an agony. 
 
128 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " My appeal was disregarded, but I heard a 
 voice say, ' go for the Doctor/ 
 
 " ' Yes, go to him, go to him,' I cried, ' tell 
 him to lose not an instant. Say that my life is 
 at stake.' 
 
 '' The woman gave me a cruel gripe. 
 
 " ' Will you leave me at the mercy of this 
 savage creature?' I shrieked, struggling to re- 
 lease myself from her hold. 
 
 ''' 'You'd better shut the door: she's growing 
 noisy again,' said the woman, almost crushing 
 nie in her powerful arms. 
 
 '' 0, no, no! Leave me not alone with this 
 cruel woman !' I cried imploringly. ' She will 
 kill me.' 
 
 " 'You see how mad she is,' exclaimed the 
 ■wretch. 
 
 " And now, indeed, I felt that my brain began 
 to reel : and although I was conscious of strug- 
 gling violently against the efforts made to hold 
 me down on my bed, and of watching the door 
 in intense terror lest it should be closed, the 
 horrors I had passed through during the preced- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 129 
 
 ing hours, and the fierce strife for very life, as 
 it seemed to me, in which I was at that moment 
 involved, were not without their terrible result; 
 I knew that my mind was losing its balance, and 
 with this dreadful conviction came an agony 
 more appalling than any I had yet experienced. 
 Whether my reason would not, indeed, have be- 
 come overthrown if I had continued much longer 
 exposed to the complicated and frightful miseries 
 I was enduring is, I think, hardly doubtful. 
 But relief was at hand. My kind physician, 
 with a speed impelled by zeal, answered the hasty 
 summons he had received, and at sight of him, 
 in the joyful sense of security, the torture of my 
 brain instantaneously ceased, and my tottering 
 mind recovered its just equilibrium. I believe, 
 however, my heartfelt thankfulness for the suc- 
 cour that at length had arrived, appeared to be 
 manifested with undue extravagance, for my 
 doctor afterwards told me that he was no sooner 
 at my bed-side, than I clung to him in what 
 seemed a delirious ecstacy ; and no wonder, for 
 he did indeed appear to me as an angel of de- 
 
 G 5 
 
130 THE GILBERTS 
 
 liverance. But after the first rush of joy had 
 spent itself, I remembered that I had a terrible 
 accusation to make, and looked for the nurse, 
 Tvho, on the physician's appei ranee had at once 
 relinquished her hold of me; and perceiving that 
 she was at that rery moment passing out of the 
 apartment, I cried vehemently, ' Stop that wo- 
 man ! Do not suffer her to escape ! She would 
 have murdered me I ' My command, however, 
 seemed to be altogether disregarded, except that 
 the doctor quietly answered, ' Have no fear. She 
 shall not come near you.' 
 
 " ' But go,' I cried, ' give her in charge to the 
 police.' 
 
 He now left the room for a few minutes. 
 
 " ' Have you given her in custody ? ' I anx- 
 iously enquired on his return. 
 
 " ' She is well watched.' he replied. 
 
 '^ I was aware that he answered me eva- 
 sively, and in order to enforce the necessity of 
 the proceeding I had directed, began narrating 
 to him th'^ dreadful occurrences of the night. 
 But he would not suffer me to proceed, 'You 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 131 
 
 must not speak/ he said; 'perfect quiet is essen- 
 tial for your recovery.' 
 
 " * But 1 must speak,' I cried; ' I must at least 
 tell you that it is very likely I have had poison 
 administered to me. The woman who afterwards 
 made a direct attack on my life, gave me some- 
 thing that she said you had sent, and I swal- 
 lowed it.' ♦ 
 
 *' • I did send it,' he said. 
 
 ''I was surprised. ' But perhaps she tampered 
 with it,' I suggest-ed, 
 
 '' I believe not, but if she did, if you have 
 swallowed anything noxious, here is an antidote 
 for it,' he said, pouring into a glass some dark- 
 coloured fluid from a small vial, and afterwards 
 holding it to my lips, ' take this, and don't say 
 another word.' 
 
 " I took the dose, that tasted strongly of 
 laudanum, and giving him back the glass, ' Who 
 is to stay with me?' I enquired. 
 
 " ' I will myself remain with you, provided 
 you do not speak,' he answered, and seated him- 
 self at my bed-side. 
 
132 THE GILBLKTS 
 
 " A delightful calm almost immediately began 
 to steal over me, and I must very soon have be- 
 come utterly unconscious, for not a sound reached 
 me till I know not how long afterwards, when I 
 became aware that some one was moving about 
 my apartment, and slowly opening my eyes, I 
 perceived that it was broad daylight, and that 
 one of the servai>ts of the house was busying 
 herself at a table near me, ' I am only clearing 
 away the things the nurse told me to,' she said, 
 observing my looks directed towards her. At 
 the sound of t\is fearful name there flashed be- 
 ^fore me, on the instant, a vivid recollection of 
 the occurrences of the previous night, and I knew 
 that a basin, which, among other articles, the 
 servant was now preparing to carry out of the 
 room, was the one into which had been thrown 
 the draught I refused to swallow, 
 
 " ' Eemove nothing,' I said, but on attempting 
 to speak, I found I was so weak that my voice 
 was scarcely audible. Whether she did not hear 
 me speak or mistook what I said, I don't know, 
 but she proceeded in her employment, and just, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 133 
 
 as with her hands full, she was about to leave 
 the chamber, turned her head towards me, and 
 said, ' Would you like to see the nurse?' 
 
 " 'Where is she?' I cried in alarm. 
 
 '' " Down-stairs,' she answered. 
 
 " '0 stay with me — stay with me!' I cried 
 in an agony, ' don't let her come to me I' 
 
 '' But the servant only closed the door and 
 went her way. 
 
 "A terrible panic came over me; I trembled 
 from head to foot, my heart palpitated violently, 
 and a dimness was on my sight. I believe that 
 I then fainted, for T was conscious of nothing 
 further till I saw my physician standing over me, 
 and felt his hand on my wrist. He did not speak, 
 but sat down beside me, every now and then 
 again feeling my pulse. I was too weak to utter 
 a word, and tears were involuntarily running 
 down my cheeks; but I was able to look up 
 thankfully when the good doctor took a fresh 
 handkerchief from his pocket, and softly wiped 
 them away. In a little while I was somewhat re- 
 vived, and he asked if I had had any breakfast. 
 ' No,' I answered, ' I had had nothing.' 
 
134 THE GILBEET3 
 
 " He rang and ordered tea to he made for me 
 immediately ; when it was brought giving it to 
 me himself and supporting me whilst I took it. 
 By-and-bye he enquired whether anything had 
 that morning occurred to agitate me. ' I had 
 been told that the nurse was below/ I answered, 
 'and was frightened at the thought that she 
 might come to me.' 
 
 ^' ^ What that woman here now ! ^ he exclaimed ; 
 'I must see to this;' and he hastily left the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Returning shortly, he told me that I need be 
 under no further apprehension for that he had 
 ordered the woman at once to go. 
 
 " 'Why is she not in custody?' I enquired. 
 
 '' ' We will talk about that some other time. ' 
 he said; and then proceeded to tell me that 
 before coming to me that morning he had sent 
 for a trustworthy person to attend on me, who 
 he hoped would have been able to come imme- 
 diately, but had found to his disappointment that 
 she could not be released from an engagement 
 she was under at present till early in the after- 
 noon, when however she had promised, without 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 155 
 
 fail, to be with me. A servant presently enter- 
 ing the room to take away my tea cup, he desired 
 her to remain and sit with me awhile, saying 
 that he must now go, but would return in the 
 course of an. hour to see how I was going on. 
 After his departure I closed my eyes and lay 
 quite still, and the servant probably thought I 
 ^vas sleeping and that there was no further need 
 of her remaining with me, for she very soon 
 deserted her post at my bed-side; and though on 
 hearing her move I opened my eyes^ and seeing 
 that she was about to quit the chamber, feebly 
 attempted to call her back, she appeared not to 
 hear me, and quickly disappeared^ closing the 
 door after her. 
 
 " And now I fell into a half dreaming state, 
 seeming to see gloomy woodland paths and dark 
 troubled waters, and to hear low moaning wind. 
 And the pain of a sad farewell lay on my heart, 
 as when I had felt the last touch of a loving 
 hand, now long cold in death ; and yet all the 
 while I was conscious of lying helpless on my 
 sick bed in a solitary chamber. How long this 
 
136 THE GILBERTS 
 
 disordered reverie or slumber lasted I know not, 
 but I was fearfully roused from it. Some sound 
 disturbed me, and unclosing my eyes I beheld 
 the dreadful nurse advancing, her eyes glaring 
 fiercely, and her white lips trembling; she came 
 hurrying to my bedside. Almost maddened by 
 terror, screaming loudly and seizing the bell-cord, 
 I rang a peal, that resounded through the house, 
 and the woman, instantly retreating, hastened 
 out of the chamber. More than one of the 
 household now hurriedly answered my startling 
 summons, but sudden fear had deprived me of 
 the power of coherent speech ; and I was at first 
 utterly unable to explain the cause of my alarm. 
 When presently, however, instead of the hard 
 inquisitorial glances of the wondering servants 
 who had obeyed my terrified call, I met the kind 
 calm gaze of the Doctor, who was now standing 
 beside me, I became more composed, and in a 
 little while was able to tell him the occasion of 
 the miserable agitation in which he had found me. 
 He appeared greatly astonished at my communica- 
 tion, and as soon as I had become completely 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 137 
 
 paciiied, quitted me for a few minutes, during 
 which I heard the sound of angry words passing 
 between himself and my landlady in an adjoining 
 apartment. On his return, he assured me that 
 he had ascertained the nurse had now positively 
 left the house; and on my expressing some 
 apprehension lest she might come back to it, and 
 again force herself into my presence, he said 
 that in order to set my fears completely at rest 
 he would himself remain with me until the arrival 
 of the person whom he had secured for my attend- 
 ant, and forthwith stationed himself in the large 
 chair beside my bed, enjoining me to endeavour 
 to sleep. I ardently thanked him and attempted 
 to say something of my regret for encroaching 
 so much on his time. He cut short my apology, 
 saying it chanced he had no visits that morning 
 to pay; adding, presently, that it was Sunday, 
 and he would sit with me instead of going to 
 church. I felt that he was the Good Samaritan, 
 and 1 believe I told him so. He sat by me hour 
 after hour, with the utmost patience, which 
 must have been severely tried by my utter dis- 
 
138 THK GILBERTS 
 
 regard of his repeated injunctions of silence, for 
 now, incited by fever probably, I talked inces- 
 santly. But whenever I recurred to the events 
 of the past night he would not allow me to pro- 
 ceed with the subject, and at last, in order effec- 
 tually to enforce my obedience, protested that he 
 would leave me if I persisted in returning to it. 
 Dreading his departure above all things I durst 
 not dispute his command, though 1 felt, whilst 
 obeying him, that in this instance the course he 
 was pursuing for the establishment of my 
 tranquillity was a mistaken one. Presently, in 
 the midst of some excited discourse of mine, 
 simply I believe with the view of interrupting 
 it, he placed a half-folded piece of letter-paper 
 before me, saying, that perceiving there was 
 writing on it, he had just taken it up from the 
 floor by my bed-side, supposing it might acci- 
 dentally have dropped from my portfolio. 
 
 " I at once recognized the appeal I had written 
 on the preceding morning, and which the nurse 
 had snatched from me. 
 
 " ' Oh, read it,' I cried; ' it is the very paper 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 139 
 
 I was talking about when you would not let me 
 tell you a word more.' 
 
 " He did read it. 
 
 " ' And you intended giving this to me to 
 forward for you,' he said. 
 
 " ' Yes, but as I told you, the woman prevented 
 me,' and I began once more to relate some of the 
 suspicious circumstances that I had previously 
 attempted to inform him of, but becoming agitated 
 in the course of my recital, he again prohi- 
 bited me from continuing it. 
 
 "'And I know all this already,' he said; 
 ' you forget the history that you were giving me 
 last night.' 
 
 " ' I do not forget it, but I believe you thought 
 me mad then,' I cried. 
 
 '^ ' Not mad,' he answered, ' but in a painfully 
 excited state.' 
 
 . "'But what had brought me to this state? 
 Was it not the horror that wicked woman had 
 caused me to suffer?' I exclaimed vehemently, 
 starting up from my pillow, and then falling 
 back, trembling violently. 
 
140 THE GILBERTS 
 
 "'Hush! hush!' he cried; 'you will become 
 very ill if you agitate yourself in this manner.' 
 
 " ' I am very ill already,' I said faintly. 
 
 "'You are/ he replied, 'but you will as- 
 suredly become much worse without the quiet 
 that I have enjoined. You ought not to utter a 
 word, and you should endeavour, if possible, to 
 sleep.' 
 
 " ' But will you believe what I have told you?' 
 I asked earnestly. 
 
 " ' I will enquire into it all, and I will keep 
 ■fchis note, if you will let me,' he said. 'It may 
 be well to have recourse to it in the examination 
 I shall make,' and he placed it in his pocket- 
 book. 
 
 " It was obvious, I thought, that he was re- 
 garding the statements I had made in a new 
 light; that he no longer considered them as the 
 mere creations of a disordered fancy ; and under 
 this conviction I became tranquillized, and it 
 was not long before I sank into a quiet slumber. 
 On waking, my kind watcher introduced to me, 
 as the new nurse he had provided, a pleasant- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 141 
 
 looking woman, who seemed to have just entered 
 the apartment, and then, after giving some 
 directions to her and bestowing a few words of 
 medical advice upon me, forthwith took his de- 
 parture. 
 
 " I was now in hourly expectation of the ar- 
 rival of my relations, but owing to some unto- 
 ward circumstances — some delay, as I afterwards 
 understood, in their receiving my doctor's sum- 
 mons, they failed to appear; and as daylight 
 waned, remembering the last packet must some 
 time have arrived, I knew that their coming 
 before the morrow was impossible. Thus I had 
 one more night to pass without the solace of be- 
 holding a familiar face, and as it approached I 
 felt a dread that I was ashamed to acknowledge, 
 but yet found impossible to conquer, of being 
 watched through the dark hours only by the 
 solitary stranger so recently appointed as my 
 attendant, and on the plea of the possibility oc- 
 curring of its being necessary to send a summons 
 to my doctor during the night, I suggested to 
 my new nurse that she should procure the ser- 
 
142 THE GILBERTS 
 
 vices of some person to share her watch. A 
 young woman, I insisted, for in truth after my 
 terrible experience I loathed the thought of any 
 other; and when, obeying my instructions, she 
 brought to my bedside a gentle-faced girl, whose 
 innocent countenance was as refreshing to my 
 sight as was to my parched lips the glass of 
 fresh water that I presently received at her 
 timid hands, I felt the blessed conviction of 
 security from harm, and thankfully resigned 
 myself to the drowsy influence that was stealing 
 over me, and soon T slept, slept peacefully. On 
 awakening from time to time, 1 loved to rest my 
 eyes on the young girl's fair face, that was 
 always bending over a little bible she had 
 brought with her, the light of a candle near 
 which she sat streaming across her placid brow. 
 How vividly the remembrance of that sweet young 
 face came before me, when a few weeks after- 
 wards, while I still lingered on a sick bed, I was 
 told that the grave had closed over it. Medi- 
 tating on this early death, ' Wherefore,' I asked 
 myself, 'should / be struggling to retain an 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 143 
 
 already half- worn exist'^nce?' a weary burthen, 
 too, as it seemed to me then. 
 
 " But to return to the night I was speaking 
 of. In my intervals of wakeful j. ess, very pre- 
 cious noAv seemed ^to me this life of mine, so 
 lately rescued from the most imminent peril, and 
 that yet from hour to hour I held only by the 
 most precarious tenure. But one week had 
 elapsed since the commencement of my illness, 
 though the amount of suffering compressed 
 within that short space of time made it appear 
 to me of tenfold length. And now I yearned 
 earnestly to see a familiar face — to hear a 
 familiar voice. 
 
 " ' Let me but live to grasp one dear hand !' I 
 cried mentally. ' Let me not die and make no 
 sign to any that I love.' 
 
 "With the first dawn of daj/light I began to 
 count anxiously the hours that must elapse before 
 there could be any probability of the arrival of 
 my relations, and became so restless and feverish 
 under the excitement of waiting their appearance, 
 that as morning advanced my illness increased, 
 
144 THE GILBERTS 
 
 and when at length this painful agitation had 
 spent itself, it left me so exhausted that on the 
 actual arrival of ray friends I was scarcely con- 
 scious of their presence, and when, shortly after- 
 wards — according to a plan w^hich they and my 
 good physician had arranged — wrapped in blankets 
 and placed in a sedan chair, I was slowdy car- 
 ried from the house a sojourn in which had so 
 nearly proved fatal to me, and conveyed to a 
 little villa near at hand, where in a quiet apart- 
 ment, a cool, fresh bed received my fevered frame, 
 although I felt the reviving influence of the salu- 
 tary change, I was conscious of little else, and soon 
 lost even that faint sense of the present, falling 
 into a sleep the result either of the fatigue I had 
 undergone or of some opiate administered to me, 
 from which I did not awake till towards evening. 
 But when at length my eyes unclosed, it was in- 
 deed delightful to find that their gaze rested on 
 a familiar and beloved countenance that was now 
 tenderly bending over me. And I was no more 
 left to the tender mercies of strangers ; this dear 
 relation, the sight of w^hose kind face seemed to 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 145 
 
 me as a glimpse of heavenly sunshine, remained 
 with me through the whole term of a dreadful 
 illness that ensued, consequent on the terrors 
 through which I had passed, when for many- 
 weeks I lay between life and death, and with my 
 reason hovering on a fearful brink, the conscious- 
 ness of which caused me extreme agony. I be- 
 lieve, indeed, that but for the solace and support 
 of this kindly companionship, my mind would 
 have irrecoverably given way under the misery 
 that assailed me in the perpetually recurring 
 thought of the horror I had endured. So slight 
 at this time was the power to exercise my reason, 
 that a sound, a look startling me, were often 
 sufficient to awaken my wildest fears, and to 
 cause a sharp thrill of anguish to pass through 
 my whole frame. I was still, however, prohibited 
 from speaking of that dreadful night, under the 
 mistaken notion of guarding me from dangerous 
 excitement; but at length feeling that I could no 
 longer bear this unnatural restraint, I one day 
 insisted on my physican's allowing me to relate 
 to him the history of my terrible experience, as- 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE GILBERTS 
 
 snring him, I felt that by thus disburthening 
 my mind I should have a far better chance of 
 recovery, than by persisting in the silence he en- 
 joined. My principal motive, however, for de- 
 manding to make this narration was my anxiety 
 that the treachery of the wicked nurse should not 
 go unpunished — that so dangerous a wretch 
 should not be permitted to be at large; and 
 hitherto I had received only evasive replies to 
 my occasional enquiries concerning her. 
 
 " When my doctor had at last attentively lis- 
 tened to my circumstantial detail of the peril 
 through which I had passed, he was obviously im- 
 pressed with the reality of the danger to which I 
 had been exposed. He cross-questioned me, how- 
 ever, with no little ingenuity, but my testimony 
 was always the same ; and at the conclusion of his 
 investigation, he assured me that he was now 
 fully convinced I had not been deluded by ima- 
 ginary terrors, as he acknowledged he had almost 
 believed to be the case, till the sight of the written 
 paper 1 had given him, with my account of its 
 having been so unwarrantably snatched from me. 
 
^ ANT) THEIR GUESTS. 147 
 
 had somewhat shaken that opinion, and the pre- 
 varication of the nurse, whom he afterwards 
 questioned on the subject, had', he owned, still 
 further undermined it. She had at first, he said, 
 denied all knowledge of my having written any- 
 thing whatever; but, on his showing her the 
 paper, had become visibly confused, admitting 
 then that she had seen me write it; and on his 
 demanding why she had presumed to take it 
 from me, answered, it was because she knew the 
 person whom I wished to summon was a poor 
 sickly creature, totally unfit for a night w^atcher. 
 This statement was, as I to'd him, utterly false, 
 nor, indeed, had this woman any knowledge 
 whatever of the servant in question. He was 
 scarcely astonished at hearing this, and proceeded 
 to tell me that the night on which he had been 
 summoned to me, the nurse had previously come 
 to his house at so late an hour that he had some- 
 time retired to rest, and was much surprised at 
 being disturbed by her, as he had left me in the 
 evening going on perfectly well. She told him 
 that she had been sent by me to tell him that I 
 H 2 
 
148 THE GILBERTS ^ 
 
 needed a sleeping-draught, as I was somewhat 
 restless, although continuing better, and bj no 
 means requiring to see him. In compliance 
 with my supposed request, he said, he sent by 
 her a very small portion of a harmless narcotic 
 that he kept at hand, saying simply that she 
 might at once give it to me, but adding not one 
 ■word, as she had affirmed he had, of his having 
 unbounded confidence in her care of a patient. 
 He then went on to say, that subsequently, on 
 being hastily summoned to visit me, and informed 
 that I was in a high state of delirium, he was 
 greatly astonished ; and although, on his arrival, 
 he found that the rapid beating of my pulse cer- 
 tainly indicated a considerable amount of fever, 
 and my state of agonised excitement appeared in 
 some degree to confirm the report that had been 
 made to him of my condition ; he nevertheless, 
 hearing my charge against the nurse, was un- 
 favourably struck by the suspicious circumstance 
 of her hurried and unbidden departure from my 
 chamber directly he entered it; and also by the 
 extreme agitation she betrayed, when presently 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 149 
 
 afterwards, in another apartment, he questioned 
 her concerning me. Believing that she had ter- 
 rified me by some undue exercise of authority, 
 he had, he said, at once taken upon himself the 
 responsibility of summarily dismissing her from 
 my service, and ordering that she should, on no 
 pretence whatever, again be allowed to enter my 
 presence ; although the landlady insisted on per- 
 mitting her to remain in the house during the 
 night. He had been most indignant, he added, 
 when, on the following morning, he found that his 
 command had been disregarded and that I had 
 been alarmed by the woman's appearance in my 
 chamber. 
 
 "He had since, as he informed me, had more 
 that one interview with her, when her agitation 
 had of itself been sufiicient to cause grave sus- 
 picion against her; and on his again closely 
 questioning her as to the occasion of the terror 
 in which he found me on the night he had been 
 so unexpectedly summoned to my bed-side, the 
 causes she had assigned for it were so improbable 
 and so contradictory, that he had been thoroughly 
 
l/)0 THE GILBERTS 
 
 convinced of the complete falsehood of her state- 
 ments; and now that he had at last listened to 
 my own account of that terrible night and of 
 the incidents preceding it, he could no longer, he 
 said, have any doubt of her guilty purpose. 
 Indeed, how was it possible?" cried Miss Dale. 
 " Let us note the most striking circumstances of 
 the case. In the first instance the sight of the 
 valuables contained in my box without doubt at 
 once excited her cupidity, and having deter- 
 mined to possess herself of them, how to escape 
 detection, became, we may take for granted, her 
 next consideration. The contemplated arrival of 
 my relations perhaps hastened her plans ; and \ve 
 have seen that on the night preceding their ex- 
 pected presence she succeeded in her determina- 
 tion that none should share her watch. The 
 sleeping draught, for which in my name she had 
 applied, was, we must conjecture, intended to 
 serve the purpose of putting me in a state in 
 which I should be unable to resist an act of 
 violence; and when this failed in effect, the 
 second potion offered was no doubt designed sue- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 151 
 
 cessfully to still me. In what followed that 
 baffled attempt there can be no question of her 
 guilty intent, and if she had achieved her terrible 
 project, and afterwards possessed herself of my 
 valuables, it is possible that she might have 
 escaped suspicion. She would doubtless have 
 coined some plausible story of my sudden and 
 natural death, which, considering my late dan- 
 gerous state of illness, might not liave been 
 difficult to believe, while her robbery would pro- 
 bably have remained undetected from the 
 circumstance of there being no one to prove 
 what was in my possession when I entered the 
 house." 
 
 " These appalling and too probable supposi- 
 tions make my blood run cold with horror," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Gilbert. " Surely the dreadful 
 creature was not allowed to go unpunished?" 
 
 "Not intentionally. After due consultation 
 with my friends a warrant for her apprehension 
 was about to be applied for, when it was dis- 
 covered that she had eluded justice by embark- 
 ing in an emigrant ship bound for Australia, 
 
152 THE GILBERTS 
 
 and that had already sailed from a neighbouring 
 sea-port. But with an accusing conscience she 
 will not escape retribution." 
 
 " Ii is altogether a most terrible history," said 
 Mrs. Gilbert, '' and I fear that your recital of 
 it must have revived some agonizing tremors." 
 
 " I confess I am glad that to-night I shall not 
 be alone," answered Miss Dale. " I am glad you 
 will be with me, dear Margaret." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 153 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 The sun was shining out with splendour from 
 among heavy clouds in the afternoon of the fol- 
 lowing day, and the two friends, who had loitered 
 over a late breakfast, and since become some- 
 what heedless of the lapse of time, sat deep in 
 talk, when Mr. Surrey walked in, saying that he 
 had come to escort Mrs. Gilbert home. 
 
 Miss Dale playfully rallied him on his polite- 
 ness. 
 
 " Is it such a wonderful thing?" he said ; " now 
 that I am giving up my hermit life I must make 
 myself useful in civilized society. I shall attend 
 you on your sketching excursions; — I shall carry 
 the camp-chair ; — I shall take charge of the 
 portfolio." 
 
 H 5 
 
154 THE* GILBERTS 
 
 Miss Dale smiled. 
 
 " And your little favorite shall accompany us/' 
 he continued ; '' we shall not then fall into dis- 
 course that is too grave or too sad." 
 
 '' Yet there is in her a touch almost of sadness 
 at times," said Miss Dale. 
 
 " True, but it quickly passes; she is quite the 
 child still. And here she comes!" he exclaimed, 
 seeing Rhoda at that moment running up the 
 garden path. " Ah, you little trespasser ! What 
 do you do here?" he shouted. '' Have you no 
 terror of the spring guns and steel traps set on 
 these premises?" 
 
 ''It is you that are caught in the trap," cried 
 she; "but open the door and let me come in." 
 
 " Ah, there are your sisters, blooming as 
 roses," he exclaimed, as admitting his little friend 
 he perceived the two elder girls' faces peeping 
 above the garden hedge, and he ran forward to 
 open the wicket. 
 
 "We knew we should find you here!" cried 
 Emily and Fanny in a breath. But just then a 
 heavy cloud broke, and as the rain came sud- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 155 
 
 denly down, seizing a hand of each, he hmgh- 
 ingly raced with them into the house. 
 
 Miss Dale was delighted to see her young 
 friends; she had began to fear that they were 
 forgetting the way to the Briars, she told them. 
 
 "Oh, no!" cried Emily; "but we have lately 
 been rather busy at home." 
 
 " They are industrious girls," said Mrs. Gil- 
 bert. " What do you think of their bonnets and 
 mantles to-day, which I really must tell you are 
 of their own handy-work." 
 
 " Yes, we have no money now to spare for 
 milliners," explained Emily, " and so we follow 
 the craft ourselves, you see, and a very pleasant 
 occupation, I assure you, we find it." 
 
 "They are dear clever creatures! They can 
 do all useful things!" cried Miss Dale. 
 
 " And ornamental, you should add, in the 
 present instance surely," said Mr. Surrey. " Can 
 anything be more becoming than this new winter 
 attire?" 
 
 " No, indeed, with this velvet of dark green 
 about them they are perfect moss roses. But 
 
156 THE GILBERTS 
 
 now, dear girls, you must take off these same 
 pretty mantles and bonnets; there is no chance 
 of the weather clearing for some time to come, 
 so there is nothing for all of you to do but to 
 resign yourselves to the detention, and to come 
 into the next room and take luncheon with 
 me, if you can be content with such frugal 
 fare as Dinah, my caterer, may be able to 
 supply.'* 
 
 '^ We are so hungry after our long walk that 
 we shall be sure to do justice to your good 
 cheer," said Emily, taking off her bonnet and 
 smoothing down her rich brown hair, which the 
 rough wind had somewhat lisarranged. 
 
 " What a fine blooming creature she is," 
 thought Mr. Surrey, silently observing her. 
 
 ''Are you dreaming? Will you come this 
 way to luncheon," said Miss Dale presently, 
 lightly touching him on the arm and leading the 
 way into her little dining room. 
 
 "Why are you looking so grave!" he asked 
 as he seated himself at the table beside her. 
 
 " Am I looking grave? Well, then I suppose 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 157 
 
 it is owing to the grave thought which just now 
 entered my mind." 
 
 " May one hear it?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Suppose I should guess it." 
 
 " I defy you to do so." 
 
 " And yet I could at this moment whisper it 
 into your ear; shall I do so?" 
 
 " No, no, I eschew whispering. And pray 
 make yourself useful. See Fanny is waiting for 
 a slice of the brown loaf before you." 
 
 " And now that the young lady is supplied," 
 said Mr. Surrey, "and your other guests are all, 
 as I perceive, served, I must take care of you. 
 What will you have?" 
 
 •' Pray take care of yourself first." 
 
 " I will take care of both ; we will divide this 
 plate of biscuits, and share this jar of marmalade 
 between us." 
 
 "With all my heart: it will remind me of the 
 old times." 
 
 "Which you have almost forgotten?" 
 
 " Have I, indeed?" enquired Mi^s Dale. 
 
158 THE GILBERTS 
 
 ''I can scarcely answer that question while 
 you so pertinaciously fix your eyes on that 
 flying dragon or monstrous bird wrought in the 
 damask table cloth.'* 
 
 " What a curious manufacture it is ! and 
 what grotesque and uncouth objects are intro- 
 duced into it!'' observed Miss Dale. 
 
 *' They serve a convenient purpose now at 
 least/' said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " And pray what may that be?" 
 
 " To give an evasive turn to the conversation 
 between two persons, one of whom is myste- 
 riously serious, and the other unpardonably in- 
 quisitive," replied Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " I think something or other had better serve 
 the convenient purpose of general conversation 
 just now," said Miss Dale. 
 
 "You are quite right. What a fortunate 
 chance this is for us," he added, in a louder 
 tone; "how cosy and pleasant we all are, and 
 how we do enjoy the biscuits and marmalade !" 
 
 " And the brown bread and butter!" cried the 
 girls. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 159 
 
 "And the poached eggs!" said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " I am persuaded that we shall very often be 
 coming this way when the clouds appear 
 threatening; we shall find ourselves near a cer- 
 tain prickly hedge just as the first drops begin 
 to fall," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " Then you will make me wish for many a 
 prolonged shower," answered Miss Dale. 
 
 "Oh, what a burst of sunshine! .1 am sure 
 there must be a rainbow !" exclaimed Emily, as 
 a bright gleam suddenly lighted up the little 
 apartment. 
 
 "Yes, there is the perfect arch — how very 
 beautiful!" said Miss Dale, going towards the 
 window, whither they all followed her. 
 
 '' This is the clearing shower, I am sure," 
 said Mrs. Gilbert, and she and the elder girls 
 now prepared for departure, chatting with Miss 
 Dale the while. 
 
 " Ah !" cried Rhoda mournfully, still standing 
 before the window and looking up at the sky, 
 " the beautiful rainbow has all melted away ! " 
 
 " Come, child, don't stand idling there, but 
 get your bonnet on," said fanny sharply. 
 
160 THE GILBERTS 
 
 But Rhoda did not move. 
 
 " Come, little loiterer," cried Mr. Surrey, 
 putting his hands on the child's shoulders, and 
 gently turning her face towards him, " come, 
 no more sky-gazing. But what is this I see ?" 
 he added softly, *' tears, tears trembling under 
 those downcast lids? What a sensitive little 
 being it is !" 
 
 ''Don't tell,'' whispered Ehoda, brushing 
 away the glistening drops; "it was so beautiful 
 —I couldn't help it. Don't tell." 
 
 Mr. Surrey pushed aside the waving hair that 
 fell over her brow, and looked with kind ear- 
 nestness into her tearful eyes. 
 
 " What is this whispering about between you 
 and my little sister?" said Emily, coming 
 towards them. " Mamma is quite ready to go." 
 
 " Look at these disordered locks !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Surrey, passing his hand through Rhoda's 
 abundant hair; "did you ever see such an intri- 
 cate maze as there is here ?" 
 
 " Oh, you have been giving the little lady a 
 lecture on untidiness, I suppose; but really I 
 must take her part; these tangled tresses were 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 161 
 
 smooth and shining enough till they were so 
 roughly treated by the boisterous wind." 
 
 " Oh ! that is it." 
 
 " Yes, and here is her bonnet ; we shall tuck 
 the disordered locks snugly under it, and she 
 will look quite a tidy little f^iiry," said her 
 sister, tying the strings and smiling fondly on 
 Rhoda. 
 
 A bright glance rested on Emily. 
 
 '"' What grace lies in the simplest act of spon- 
 taneous kindness," thought Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " You are sunning yourself," said a low voice 
 near him ; he turned round, Miss Dale had ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " Looking on sunshine, nothing more ; I stand 
 on the outer circle of the gracious radiance; 
 light without warmth, now as ever, is all that 
 reaches me." 
 
 Miss Dale made a smiling gesture of dissent. 
 
 '' You need not look so incredulous," he said, 
 " I would at once give you a lecture on that 
 proneness of yours to disbelieve everything of this 
 sort which I say, but I see my good cousin is im- 
 
162 THE GILBERTS 
 
 patient to be gone, and the sunshine, you perceive, 
 has already flitted away from us," he added, 
 glancing towards Emily, who was at the further 
 end of the room tying on her cloak. 
 
 There was a fine, clear sky now, and Mrs. 
 Gilbert, anxious to take advantage of it, began to 
 hasten the adieus. 
 
 '' Good bye, dear Miss Dale," cried Emily, 
 " we have had a charming hour here." 
 
 " A very charming hour," said Mr. Surrey, 
 " and which, according to the vulgar computation 
 of time, has contained at the very least a hundred 
 and twenty minutes, but we have nothing to do 
 with such common-place reckoning." 
 
 " To be sure not," responded Emily, " what 
 need to count the moments when they fly so 
 pleasantly !" 
 
 " There is all the more need to count them 
 then, lest we should lose too many," observed 
 Fanny, gravely. 
 
 " Lose them !" exclaimed her sister, " I don't 
 call enjoyment loss, do you, Mr. Surrey?" 
 
 " On the contrary I consider it great gain." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 163 
 
 *' If we could learn anything by it," persisted 
 Fanny. 
 
 " If we can learn to be happy, we can learn 
 nothing better, I think," cried Emily. 
 
 '' Ah ! you are a charming philospher ! you 
 shall teach us all!" exclaimed Mr. Surrey; ''you 
 and I," he continued, as taking leave, he shook 
 hands with Miss Dale, '* you and I will gladly 
 sit at her feet." 
 
164 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 Miss Dale stood under her rustic porch as the 
 little party walked down the garden path and 
 passed through the open wicket; Mr. Surrey- 
 was about to close it when his glance fell on 
 the sloping flower-border beneath the sweet- 
 briar hedge, and while his companions hastened 
 onwards, he loitered a moment, then re-entered 
 the garden, and stooping over the flower-bed 
 plucked some newly-opened violets; approaching 
 Miss Dale he placed the little bouquet in her 
 hand, then drew from it a few of the blossoms 
 and smilingly inhaling their fragrance, without a 
 word he departed. 
 
 Miss Dale returned to the painting room ; she 
 
Ax\D THEIR GUESTS. 165 
 
 sat again at her easel, and from time to time 
 threw a tint here, a shade there, into the half- 
 finished landscape ; but her work only slowly 
 advanced, for the painting brush was often cast 
 aside and not unfrequently the slender hands lay 
 idly folded together. She had placed the violets 
 in her girdle and their perfume perhaps called up 
 some sad and tender memory, for a glance which 
 swam in tears was often turned towards them; 
 suddenly however a crimson blush stained her 
 cheek, and hastily removing the violets she 
 placed them between the leaves of an open volume 
 that lay beside her, crushing the fragrant 
 blossoms as with an impetuous movement she 
 firmly closed the book. Returning to her picture 
 she applied herself to it with renewed energy till 
 the waning day compelled her to desist ; she rose 
 then and went towards the window. The wind 
 had lulled and the evening was exquisitely 
 beautiftd; there were yet a few crimson streaks 
 lingering in the west, and one fair star was 
 gleaming high in the heavens. " I muse escape 
 from this dull prison," thought Mi^s Dale, as she 
 
166 THE GILBERTS 
 
 glanced round her apartment that was darken- 
 ing in the twilight, and now that her task could 
 no longer be pursued became conscious of 
 fatigue; and that she needed rest — refreshment — 
 and these she should find in the open atmosphere, 
 in the soothing influence of the fading sky, in 
 the shadows creeping over the fields; even in the 
 physical effort which a prolonged walk would 
 call fortli there would be rest — rest for the 
 brain. With her servant in attendance she pre- 
 sently set out on her late stroll, and the two 
 were soon in the quiet lane, with the fair star 
 brightening in the deepening twilight; and the 
 lulled wind creeping among the leafless branches. 
 
 " Dinah," said Miss Dale, after having for a 
 little while walked on in silence, " does it ever 
 seem to you that you hear the sound of the 
 far-off sea as you are passing along the lanes 
 and fields here? " 
 
 " 0, often and often, ma'am ! and though I 
 know it is more than a hundred miles off I feel 
 sometimes as if it were rolling over the soft 
 sands at my very feet." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 167 
 
 "Does it make you sad?" 
 
 ''It makes me happy rather than sad, 
 ma'am, for it takes me back to the old time 
 when I was a little child on the sea shore, 
 watching my father's fishing-boat, as it rocked 
 and tumbled among the waves and the white 
 spray. And I often think how strange it is 
 that just the sound of the wind among the trees, 
 for I know it is not really the noise of the sea 
 that comes here, should call up such a sight as 
 that; and show me, too, our poor cot on the 
 beach with its merry faces at the door ; and bring 
 to mind besides many and many a thing that 
 mayhap for years and years I have not given a 
 thought to; for the words of my dead mother 
 come back to rae then, and the voices of mv 
 little brothers and sisters that are lying in the 
 church-yard ; and it is none of their rude ways 
 or rough sayings that I seem to hear, but only 
 their gentle and loving ones." 
 
 " With what a gracious voice nature speaks 
 even to the humblest of her favoured children," 
 thought Miss Dale; " no matter though to us 
 
168 THE GILBERTS 
 
 they may seem ignorant — uncultivated, and that 
 so we are content to leave them; — they have 
 better teaching than we can give." 
 
 *' And, Dinah," asked she, '' do you never wish 
 to see again your early home?" 
 
 '' ! ma'am, it is to be able to return there at 
 last that I have been content through years and 
 years to toil far away : it is there I hope to 
 die." 
 
 ''And I also," thought Miss Dale; "I also 
 have had this one strong wish to rest at last in 
 ray early home; to see again the glittering sea 
 roll on the smooth beach ; the sea-gull dip its 
 white pinion in the wave; the stately ship pass 
 on with a motion smooth as the swan's on an in- 
 land lake; while the fisher's boat with fluttering 
 sail rocks lightly on the troubled tide. Yes, I 
 also have had this wish, but it has long subsided, 
 I scarce know why : it matters little to me now 
 on what scene my eyes at last shall close. I have 
 learned to love even these tame fields, apart too 
 from the verdure and bloom with which summer 
 decks them ; and in the chill severe aspect they 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 169 
 
 now wear I can recognize a charm. In this dim 
 light," she continued, as emerging from the lane 
 she approached the barren co.umon, " yonder 
 wide and silent waste stretched out beneath the 
 moonless sky is not without a touch of solemn 
 beauty ; there is that in its aspect which accords 
 well with a heart chastened by sadness, and the 
 chilling air that sweeps over it harmonizes with 
 the sombre scene. Here are no discords — all is 
 peace — chill and dreary peace," and folding her 
 shawl more closely round her. Miss Dale pursued 
 her way across the desolate plain. After awhile, 
 reaching a more sheltered spot, she came to a 
 solitary cottage with a small patch of garden- 
 ground before it, and her knock for admittance at 
 the door of this humble abode was presently an- 
 swered by a decent old woman, who, in the dim 
 light, stared in some surprise at her late visitor. 
 
 " Well, my good dame," said Miss Dale, "lam 
 come to know whether your rooms are prepared 
 according to my direction, for I believe your 
 lodger will be here in the course of to-morrow." 
 
 "Dear heart!" exclaimed the old woman, "is 
 
 YOL. I. I 
 
170 THE GILBERTS 
 
 it you, Miss Dale, at this late time of day? 
 There is hardly light enough for me to see, but 
 sure it is your pleasant voice." 
 
 " Yes, my good Mrs. Gurney ; and are you 
 quite in readiness for your lodger?" 
 
 " Why, as good luck would have it," answered 
 the old woman, " I am, for the lady's come." 
 
 "Come! Come already!" exclaimed Miss 
 Dale. 
 
 '' Yes, ma'am, not an hour ago." 
 
 "Let me in. And, Dinah, stay you here with 
 this good woman," said Miss Dale, pointing to- 
 wards a little sanded kitchen, the door of which 
 stood open on one side of the narrow passage, 
 while on the other she hastily entered the opposite 
 apartment. 
 
 It was nearly dark there, for the narrow case- 
 ment admitted little of the fading daylight, but 
 Miss Dale could distinguish that a female figure 
 was half reclining on a small couch placed against 
 the wall, and as she recognized the outline of 
 that graceful form there came to her heart a rush 
 of tender memories. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 17 L 
 
 ''Jane, dear Jane!" she cried, springing for- 
 ward, and folding her friend in a fervent embrace. 
 
 " 0, Louisa, you alone of all the world have 
 not forsaken me ! " 
 
 " My poor Jane, and how could I forsake you?" 
 
 For a few moments they wept silently in each 
 other's arms. 
 
 Eecovering herself, Miss Dale placed her 
 friend again on the couch, and seated herself be- 
 side her, but she still held one of her hands 
 within both her own. 
 
 " Jane, Jane, why did not you tell me sooner 
 of your trouble ?" 
 
 " Alas ! shame kept me silent." 
 
 '' That ought not to have been : you should 
 have known me better." 
 
 " Ah, Louisa ! even you must despise one fallen 
 as I am." 
 
 " God forbid ! " said Miss Dale, earnestly : "but 
 now let us think only of what can cheer and 
 comfort you. I hope you find all that you re- 
 quire here — I hope this little abode is njt more 
 humble than you expected." 
 I 2 
 
172 THE GILBERTS 
 
 '' It is too good — too good for me." 
 
 " Nay, nay, but a little time hence, when the 
 spring is- come, I think you will really find it 
 pleasant. The air here is deliciously pure, and 
 there are lovely walks at hand : you and I will 
 have many a stroll together." 
 
 ^' 0, Louisa, to think of the old times — the old 
 happy times — it breaks my heart." 
 
 " Courage, dear Jane ! Do not uselessly look 
 back : think of the present — of the future — think 
 of the daily work that is before you." 
 
 " Ye?, indeed, 1 must do so : 1 have long had 
 to give daily work for daily bread, and it has 
 been good for me; but for this, in truth, I be- 
 lieve I should not have kept my senses." 
 
 " And now in this quiet spot you will have 
 fresh vigour for your task : the charming chap- 
 ters will be more charming still." 
 
 " Escape from the crowded, noisy city is 
 indeed delightful : but it is your kindness, 
 Louisa, that I already feel is giving me new life. 
 Not yet, not yet," she cried, covering her 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 173 
 
 face with her hands, as the old dame suddenly 
 entered the room with a pair of lighted candles, 
 and scarcely comprehending the remonstrance, 
 proceeded to place them on the table. 
 
 " Oh ! Louisa, what a wreck you will see," 
 she resumed, as they were again alone, and re- 
 moving her hands, she turned her face full 
 towards her friend." " Look here," she cried, 
 " is there a trace left by which you can remem- 
 ber me?" 
 
 '' Alas ! there is, indeed, a change," said Miss 
 Dale, almost startled out of self-possession^ as 
 she marked the haggard lines which misery had 
 ploughed in the once lovely and noble counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " I knew you would be shocked. I have 
 dreaded this moment, but I am glad it is over 
 now," said the poor lady. " But how leniently 
 time has dealt with you, Louisa," she continued, 
 looking earnestly into her friend's face; " here is 
 the same dear countenance that memory has so 
 often shown me. 1 should have known you any- 
 where. Ah ! you have not had to weep ceaselessly 
 
174 THE GILBERTS 
 
 for a fatal error; you have not been pierced by 
 the sharpness of the world's cruelty/' 
 
 Miss Dale could but fold the afflicted one in 
 her arras, and let their tears mingle. > 
 
 " And now," said she, when their emotion had 
 in some measure subsided, "now, dear Jane, you 
 must need rest." 
 
 " I must work instead of take rest," answered 
 her friend, " T have a paper for a magazine to 
 finish before to-morrow." 
 
 " I must at once take my departure then," said 
 Miss Dale, " in order to prevent disappointment 
 to the numerous readers whom you so much 
 delight." 
 
 " Ah ! little know they with what an aching 
 heart — with what a weary hand I administer to 
 their entertainment, and yet it seems to me 
 that something of this they must suspect — that 
 they cannot but perceive the shadow that is for 
 ever resting on the page." 
 
 " Assuredly they do perceive it," answered 
 Miss Dale, " and therein lies the chief cause of 
 your success; it is the living, suffering heart 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 175 
 
 photographed, if I may so express it, on the page 
 of assumed fiction, which gives to your literary 
 productions the moving interest —the deep 
 pathos capable of arresting popular attention." 
 
 '^ Ah!" cried the authoress, laying her hand 
 on a pile of manuscript beside her, " what 
 throes of sorrow and of shame have given birth 
 to this!" 
 
 " And how nobly have they been sustained !" 
 said Miss Dale; '^ and now farewell, Jane." 
 
 '* Farewell ! God bless you I You have 
 poured balm into my heart." 
 
 And the friends parted. 
 
 The evening had now become nearly dark, 
 and the way was lonely; Miss Dale, saddened 
 by the painful interview she had had, fell into 
 mournful reflection, and soon becoming heedless 
 of the cold, and careless of the haste with which 
 it would have been salutary to proceed, uncon- 
 sciously slackened her pace. '* Poor Jane!" 
 thought she, ''poor, poor, Jane! Alas! what 
 anguish has she earned through one guilty step ! 
 But can it be right that this single lapse from 
 
176 THE GILBERTS 
 
 social virtue, so long repented of, should remain 
 for ever unpardoned? — that the affection of her 
 own child — the child she once loved so intensely, 
 and of whom she dares not now trust herself to 
 speak — should be irretrievably alienated from 
 her; that no woman's heart should turn towards 
 her with compassion — should reverence her noble 
 toil, self-imposed that she may not eat of the 
 bread of the wronged husband or of the base 
 seducer? Is the one sin to be for ever remembered 
 against her, and the penitence which led her to 
 renounce it to pass unheeded ? 
 
 ''Was there no true heroism called into action 
 when confessing her unsuspected guilt she fled 
 voluntarily into misery and poverty, courage- 
 ously investing herself with the badge of shame, 
 while the self-righteous stood afar off and pointed 
 at her ! 
 
 " Is there no wounded spirit, no tortured heart 
 speaking in the severe lines of that altered coun- 
 tenance, telling how harshly they who esteem them- 
 selves without sin have dealt with a fallen sister 
 through her many years of repentant sorrow I 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 177 
 
 ^'0! my poor Jane! if less of rigour had been 
 shewn towards you, indignant virtue had worn 
 a diviner aspect! " 
 
 There was food enough for painful meditation 
 while this theme occupied Miss Dale's mind ; her 
 step became slower still, and it was long before 
 she reached the gate of her little garden, and 
 then she became conscious that a cold shiver ran 
 through her frame. She had before now seemed 
 to stand on the brink of death from a lighter 
 cause than exposure to the inclement air which 
 she had this evening braved; and hastening 
 within doors she endeavoured by various simple 
 remedies to neutralize the ill effects of the chill 
 she had received; but in this she could not suc- 
 ceed, and after a restless night the morning found 
 her utterly unable to rise. It was possible, how- 
 ever, that, by yielding for a day or two to the disci- 
 pline which she knew her disorder peremp- 
 torily required, her recovery might be effected ; 
 and desiring Dinah to admit no visitors, and to 
 place books within reach of her couch, she 
 prepared herself to endure with patience the 
 
 I 5 
 
178 THE GILBERTS 
 
 punishment her imprudence had brouglit, not, 
 however, without mtiny ^ lingering regret cast 
 towards the deserted easel. The unfinished 
 landscape haunted her mind. 
 
 ''There should be more light," thought she, 
 " thrown on the distant hill, a deeper shade cast 
 on that bend of the river over which tlie drooping 
 bough hangs; and it would be well to introduce 
 a human figure in the foreground ; the cattle 
 pausing to drink in the still water do not convey 
 enough of life to the scene." 
 
 A book was in her hand, but she found it im- 
 possible to fix her attention on it; the unfinished 
 picture took the place of the printed page on 
 which her eyes mechanically rested. She became 
 feverish, restless, an impatient spirit was steal- 
 ing over her and increasing her malady. Sud- 
 denly she heard a visitor making enquiry for 
 her at the door of the house; she recognised the 
 voice. Presently Dinah brought a message to 
 her: — 
 
 " Mr. Surrey was much concerned to hear of 
 her illness. Would Miss Dale like to see Mrs. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 179 
 
 Gilbert or either of her daughters? He was 
 sure they would gladly coiue if she wished it: 
 he was waiting her answer in the breakfast- 
 room." 
 
 "No, Miss Dale tlianked him; it was better 
 that she should be alone." 
 
 Another message: — " Should he be the bearer 
 of a summons to her physician — to Doctor 
 Bassett?" 
 
 " ! no, no, she was not ill enough to require 
 to see him : in a day or two she hoped to be well 
 again." 
 
 '' xlnd what has been the cause of this sudden 
 illness?" enquired Mr. Surrey of Dinah. 
 
 " My mistress was out late yesterday evening, 
 Sir, when it was very cold, and she was taken ill 
 as soon as she got home." 
 
 " Out yesterday evening !" he exclaimed, 
 "why the weather was piercing!" 
 
 " Will she never learn prudence," said he to 
 himself, as turning to close the garden wicket he 
 looked for a moment towards the curtained window 
 
180 THE GIl.BERTS 
 
 of the invalid's chamber, " Will she never learn 
 prudence! There is sheer weakness in this 
 neglect of the caution necessary to preserve 
 health delicate as hers," and with an impatient 
 gesture he hastened on his solitary walk to- 
 wards the common. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 181 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 '* Fair Emily, I want to employ your nimble 
 fingers in my service," said Mr. Surrey, with 
 his hands full of papers, one day entering the 
 room where Mrs. Gilbert and her daughters sat 
 diligently working, " but no, I shall interrupt 
 you, I perceive, I must prefer my request at some 
 other time." 
 
 " No, indeed !" cried Emily, laying down the 
 piece of plain sewing that she had in hand, 
 '*no, indeed! 1 shall be delighted at once 
 to do anything I can for you. What is it you 
 want?" 
 
 "I want these sheets of manuscript to be 
 stitched together, they are perpetually falling 
 
182 THE GILBERTS 
 
 apart now^ and causing me all sorts of per- 
 plexity." 
 
 " To be sure they are, how could they do other- 
 wise in that deplorable state ; I shall put them all 
 right. You will see how famously T shall arrange 
 them." 
 
 " Take care, take care! you have got hold of 
 the wrong page now; I must stand by to see 
 that you commit no blunders." 
 
 " Ah ! you are only watching to prevent my 
 peeping into it." 
 
 '' No, that is a supposition prompted merely 
 by your guilty conscience; but now that you 
 have roused my suspicion I shall certainly keep 
 guard : those bright eyes are to dwell solely on 
 the stitches, they are not to wander at all towards 
 the hieroglyphics." 
 
 '' Hieroglyphics indeed ! well, at all events I 
 can decipher them easily enough; listen now, 
 ' Were there a complete harmony between the 
 individual mind and society, it is plain that — ' " 
 
 " I cannot allow this," interrupted Mr. Surrey 
 covering the page with his hand, " I must apply 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 183 
 
 to Fanny. Fanny has a more ten-ler conscience. 
 Fanny will sew the pages together without look- 
 ing at a word." 
 
 " No, indeed, sir," cried Emily playfully, " I 
 sliall not give up my task to anyone; I began 
 it, and I shall finish it. Take care now, or be- 
 tween us the manuscript w^lll get torn." 
 
 " You are a very charuiing, but a very 
 self-wille'l young lady. Well, I am at your 
 mercy." 
 
 " To be sure you are ; and now I will be gene- 
 rous, I promise not to read a single line." 
 
 " That is right, and now I will go back to my 
 own territory." 
 
 " No, no, pray stay where you are !" 
 
 " But what can I do here?" 
 
 " Oh, I can very soon settle that point for 
 you; you can read to us, talk to us, listen to 
 us." 
 
 '' How absurdly you speak, Emily, as if any- 
 thing we may say can be worth Mr. Surrey's lis- 
 tening to," cried Fanny. 
 
 '* And why not, gracious lady ?" said he. 
 
184 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert laughed : " I fear Fanny just 
 at this moment hardly deserves the epithet you 
 bestow on her, although I daresay it is not her 
 intention to be ungracious." 
 
 '' I like people to talk common sense; as to my 
 being gracious or ungracious I don't care a straw 
 about it," said Fanny. 
 
 " But this is not quite as it should be, my 
 pretty Fanny." 
 
 '-'• Oh, pray, Mr. Surrey, don't think it neces- 
 sary to garnish your reproof with a complimen- 
 tary phrase. I am not like Emily, I dislike 
 flattery." 
 
 *' And I should be sorry to bestow it on either 
 of you." 
 
 " And I am sure," said Emily, " I don't care 
 for flattery, but Fanny and I disagree in our 
 opinion of what it really is. Saying an agree- 
 able thing to please another, provided it be true 
 is not what I call flattery, but Fanny does, 
 and so this is a subject on which we never 
 accord." 
 
 " Then it were wise not to discuss it," ob- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 185 
 
 served Mr. Surrey. " Ah, what a little truant 
 you are," he cried turning towards Rhoda ; " you 
 have not been near me all the morning: I do 
 believe the German lesson was altogether for- 
 gotten." 
 
 " No, no," said Airs. Gilbert, " but we had so 
 much work to get through that even the help of 
 our little Rhoda was required. We are prepar- 
 ing things to send out to Edmund, and we have 
 just heard that the ship which is to convey them 
 will sail a month earlier than we expected; that 
 is the cause of our extraordinary diligence just 
 now." 
 
 '' And I have been interrupting you, and tak- 
 ing up Emily's valuable time with my tiresome 
 manuscript. How good natured you have been 
 not to turn me out of the room ! I am sure I 
 have deserved punishment." 
 
 " I will tell you in what way we shall inflict 
 it," cried Emily, ** we shall not let you out now 
 you are here; no, even though the manuscript is 
 now all nicely stitched; you shall not go off with 
 it, but here you shall remain and read it to us." 
 
J 86 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " No, no, but I will read something that you 
 will like much better. Here, I see, is a charm- 
 ing novel," he said, taking up a volume from the 
 table ; and much to the delight of the little party- 
 he proceeded to read it aloud. 
 
 It was considerably past the usual time for his 
 morning walk when at length laying down the 
 book, amidst the hearty thanks of his listeners, 
 he said that he must now start off on a country 
 ramble. 
 
 '' You don't mean to leave the manuscript be- 
 hind you?" said Erailj. 
 
 "• No, indeed," answered Mr. Surrey, receiving 
 his papers from her hand, " and I must thank 
 you very much for having fastened all these 
 pages so closely together. Now," and he smiled 
 on her brightly, '^nowthe manuscript is precious." 
 
 She blushed a little. ''It is ready, I hope, to 
 send to the printer." 
 
 "To the printer, indeed! Do you think I 
 shall part with it?" and with an expressive 
 glance he raised to his lips the little ribbon knot 
 with which she had tied it. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 187 
 
 She shook her head at him, and laughed gaily, 
 but at the same uioment the color on her cheeks 
 deepened . 
 
 ''She grows more charming every day,'' 
 thought Mr. Surrey, as he locked the manuscript 
 in his desk, " and yet there is a something want- 
 ing to complete the f^iscination — some soft attrac- 
 tion. What can it be? The touch of love^ perhaps. 
 She is full of bewitching gaiety, but yet she is 
 less interesting than the sensitive child Ehoda, 
 in whom I can perceive the germ of a fine intel- 
 lect, and within whose little bosom there lies 
 already an intense depth of tenderness. I could 
 take infinite pleasure in watching the develop- 
 ment of this precious bud. How immeasurable 
 must be a ftither's love for a child in any^vise 
 like this dear little one ! How arid is the life 
 that has no sweet domestic ties ! Philosophy is 
 impotent to reconcile us to their absence. How- 
 unwise has been my course ! But there is sheer 
 weakness in this vain regret now;" and resolutely 
 turning bis mind from the subject, thoughts, 
 foreign to this somewhat pensive soliloquy, 
 
188 THE GILBERTS 
 
 shortly afterwards occupied Mr. Surrey's mind 
 as he paced to and fro over a sunny portion of 
 the heath : he was contemplating the possibility 
 of separating light from darkness — of sifting 
 truth from falsehood — for this one object he 
 -would labour in his generation — and a train of 
 subtle reason suggested itself to his mind, ab- 
 stracting his attention from all outward things 
 and making him insensible to the lapse of time. 
 It was long past the usual hour of his return be- 
 fore he had remarked how far the day had ad- 
 vanced, and he then began with rapid steps to 
 bend his way homewards, and in order to lessen 
 the distance, on quitting the heath he turned 
 into a path that led to the town across some se- 
 questered fields. He had passed the first of these 
 when he found his way obstructed by a gate 
 which was fastened, and at the same moment he 
 observed a lady on the other side, who was en- 
 deavouring to open it ; he stepped forward to as- 
 sist her, and as she turned to thank him for his 
 courtesy, he was struck by the depth of sad 
 though tfulness wdiich her countenance expressed, 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 189 
 
 110 less than by the tone of her voice, whicli was 
 low and full. " Surely," thought he, as turning 
 from her he proceeded on his solitary way, 
 " this woman has struggled bravely with heavy 
 sorrow. There was deep feeling, there was high 
 thought in the expression of those large mournful 
 eyes. Her voice, too, was strangely harmonious. 
 Who can this stranger be? I have seen her 
 somewhere in years gone by." 
 
 A few days afterwards, as he stood at the 
 door of Miss Dale's house, making enquiry of 
 Dinah respecting the health of her mistress, 
 this same lady, to his surprise, passed him on the 
 threshold, gracefully acknowledging his silent 
 bow. There was the same mournful glance, the 
 same thoughtful expression of the brow. He 
 could not refrain from enquiring who this 
 stranger was. 
 
 '* It is Mrs. Copeland, sir," answered Dinali. 
 
 The name suddenly recalled to him a painful 
 rumour he had heard concerning one that an 
 earlier recollection brought to his mind as the 
 centre of attraction to a brilliant circle into 
 
190 THE GILBEUTS 
 
 ■which, on some now forgotten occasion, he had 
 l)een introduced by a college friend. 
 
 Dinah continued : 
 
 " She is a friend of my mistress's, who lodges 
 in the little cottage close to the common." 
 
 " Is Miss Dale able to receive visitors," he 
 enquired. 
 
 " She has not been well enough to see anyone, 
 sir, except Mrs. Copeland." 
 
 '' She is not able to paint now ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, she has been sitting up in her bed 
 and working at a picture, but it was too much 
 for her — it made her very ill." 
 
 "• She can amuse herself with a book, perhaps; 
 give her this," said Mr. Surrey, taking a small 
 volume from his pocket. 
 
 " And any message with it, sir?" 
 
 " No — yet stay," and he took out his pencil, 
 and wrote a few kindly words on the back of 
 his card. " Give Miss Dale this, if you please." 
 
AND THEIR GUI.STS. 191 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WOODRIDGE was a tolerably social little town, 
 aiid among its small visiting population evening 
 entertainments not unfrequently occurred. 
 Owing to various untoward circumstances it 
 was, however, long since one of these assem- 
 blages had been held at the Gilberts; but at 
 length their invitations had been issued, and a 
 party at their house was about to take place. 
 As Emily sat beside Mr. Surrey at the dinner 
 table a fev; hours before the intended festivity, 
 she began to talk of the number of guests ex- 
 pected, and of the amusements for them that had 
 been planned. 
 
 ''I shall take a peep at your gay doings in the 
 course of the evening," he said. 
 
192 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Take a peep indeed! What can you mean?" 
 
 " I know you will be charitable enough to let 
 me have a quiet cup of tea in my little sanctum, 
 I have some writing in hand that I wish to get 
 through to-night." 
 
 " That is really too bad ! Mamma, did you 
 ever hear anything like it?" 
 
 " I think I remember something like it, my 
 dear. Ah ! William," continued Mrs. Gilbert, 
 turning to Mr. Surrey with a smile, " this is one 
 of the caprices you and I used to have many a 
 discussion about of old." 
 
 " Do not call it a caprice. I dislike a formal 
 party; I cannot add one iota to the amusement 
 of it, and therefore why should I thrust myself 
 where I should only be in the way?" 
 
 " But our visitors will be so disappointed,' 
 urged Emily. 
 
 " That can hardly be, since I have not even 
 the honour cf their acquaintance." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you do know some of them, and I 
 assure you Charlotte Harris has quite looked 
 forward to this eveninsj for the sake of meetiu": 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 193 
 
 you. I never see her but she asks a hundred 
 questions about you." 
 
 "There, William!" exclaimed Mr. Gilbert; 
 ''surely you will not disappoint a young lady 
 who asks a hundred questions about you." 
 
 " When 1 go to practise with her," said Fanny, 
 "she is talking about you more than half the 
 time." 
 
 " And," said Andrew, " she met me out walk- 
 ing the other day, and enquired how it was that 
 I was not accompanied by our 'talented guest.'" 
 
 " And yesterday," cried Ehoda, " when she 
 gave me those beautiful double violets, she said, 
 ' Let the interesting student inhale their perfume,' 
 and that is why I set them in a vase on your 
 writing table." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" shouted Mr. Gilbert, and the 
 laugh became general. 
 
 " I cry you mercy, my good friends," said Mr. 
 Surrey; ^' I doubt not you have good cause for 
 your mirth, but it is a little hard for such a 
 harmless being as I am to be the butt of it." 
 
 " Harmless, indeed !" exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
i94 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " when we have just been given to understand 
 what havoc you have committed — how you have 
 pierced a young lady's heart through and 
 through." 
 
 " Nay, I leave such prowess as that to my 
 friend Andrew here." 
 
 " Poor dear Edmund was the one to pierce 
 hearts," said Emily; '' he was for ever making 
 conquests, and without trying to do so." 
 
 " The reason of his success, probably," ob- 
 served Mr. Surrey, 
 
 " Oh, he had such merry winning ways !" 
 
 Mr. Gilbert looked disturbed, as he always 
 did when his absent son was mentioned; and 
 Mrs. Gilbert, anxious to turn the conversation 
 into a new cliannel, made some trifling remark 
 on another subject. Emily took the hint, and 
 talked no more of poor Edmund, and when after 
 a somewhat long pause Mr. Surrey addressed an 
 observation to her, looking at her as he spoke, 
 he saw tears swimming in her eyes. 
 
 *' She is a sweet affectionate creature," thought 
 he, and perhaps his looks were no less expressive 
 
AND THE[R GUESTS. 195 
 
 than words would have been, for in spite of her 
 emotion Emily blushed as she met his glance. 
 " And how charming that blush is," thought he 
 again. 
 
 Disguising her confusion with a smile, she 
 said: 
 
 " You don't really intend to play Diogenes in 
 his tub to-night?" 
 
 " 1 am not quite so churlish. When the first 
 notes of a certain air reach me," said he, turning 
 to Fanny, '' I shall not be able to resist the 
 temptation of creeping out of the tub." 
 
 '' Then positively the evening must begin 
 with that very air." 
 
 "No, no; that I aosolutely prohibit. When 
 there has been a little dancing, and a little sing- 
 ing, and a little playing at German forfeits, 
 then will be the time for Fanny's charming 
 music; and then I shall quietly find my place 
 among you as a listener, and afterwards I shall 
 play my part very effectively among the jellies, 
 and trifles, and tarts. And now I think we 
 have very pleasantly settled the matter." 
 K 2 
 
196 THE GILBERTS 
 
 A little later Mr. Surrey sat in his Study en- 
 deavouring to fix his thoughts on the page of 
 manuscript before him. There was a gentle 
 knock at his door, and Ixhoda smilingly entered 
 with a cup of tea, and a plate of biscuits. 
 
 " You beneficent little fairy !" he exclaimed, 
 laying down his pen, and looking up with the 
 brightest smile, '* Ah ! and my favourite biscuits " 
 
 " Emily said you would like them." 
 
 " Well, between you all, you will certainly 
 contrive to spoil me for a desolate life. What 
 shall I do when I go away from you, Rhoda?" 
 
 " Come back again to us as soon as ever you 
 can." 
 
 '' No, ray little friend ; I must be a solitary 
 wanderer on the face of the earth. This sweet 
 nest of home is not for me." 
 
 " You can build a nest for yourself," said 
 Rhoda. 
 
 " And what bird of the air w^ants a nest all to 
 himself?" 
 
 "• The bird takes a mate," said she, '' and then 
 he builds the nest." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 19T 
 
 *' But T have no mate." 
 
 *• Can't you find one? Would you like a 
 wild one of the woods, or a tame one, used to a 
 cage ?" 
 
 " The wild one would fly away from me, I am 
 afraid; and I do think I should fly away from 
 the tame one. But don't run away; I want to 
 look at you. What an airy little sylph you 
 seem in that gossamer robe, and with the care- 
 less curls waving about!" 
 
 '* Emily dressed me, but Fanny says I don't 
 look tidy enough." 
 
 " Fanny is a little too precise." 
 '' But she always looks very nice." 
 "Yes; very nice." 
 
 ''But she does not look like Emily?" 
 "No. she does not look like Emily." 
 " AndllikeEmily'slook the best. Don't you?" 
 " Come, come, little lady ; I must not have 
 you playing the critic on your pretty sisters. 
 And 1 do think I must not keep you here any 
 longer; they will be wanting you in the drawing 
 room.'' 
 
198 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Emily says you must not forget to listen for 
 Fanny's music; and that you must come directly 
 you hear it," said Rhoda. 
 
 " No, no, I sliall not forget," and Rhoda 
 skipped out of the room. 
 
 Mr. Surrey, pen in hand, was presently bend- 
 ing over a pile of manuscript, carefully examin- 
 ing it page by page, here inserting a word, there 
 erasing one, and occasionally filling up the broad, 
 blank margin with a comment or note, as some 
 new idea suggested itself to his mind. Thus 
 occupied, time passed unheeded, and the pro- 
 mised music was unheard. But while thus ab- 
 sorbed, his attention was suddenly attracted by 
 a slight noise, and he became aware that his 
 door was being softly opened on the outside, and 
 presently there ^vas the sound of light footsteps, 
 and the rustle of silken garments, as of some one 
 rapidly retreating, and then stole to his ear the 
 well-nown notes of a plaintive melody. For some 
 moments he listened to it with pleased attention, 
 and then hastily gathering up his papers, and 
 carefully locking them in his desk, he cheerfully 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 199 
 
 obeyed the summons, and proceeded at once to 
 the drawing-room. Emily smiled gaily as he 
 entered, and blushed, he thought, slightly. It 
 seemed to him that she had never appeared to 
 greater advantage : her rich brown hair smoothly 
 parted on the forehead was gathered up in a 
 careless knot at the back of the liead, leaving 
 bare the small, well-turned ear, and the round, 
 blooming cheek ; and her figure looked more 
 striking than usual in the unornamented gowm 
 of pale blue silk, which left partially uncovered 
 her fine neck and arms, unencumbered by broach 
 or bracelet; her only decoration being a large 
 bunch of violets, which she wore in her bosom. 
 There were many young ladies present, and 
 among them not a few with a fair share of per- 
 sonal attraction, but not one with a tithe of 
 Emily's claim to admiration; at least so thought 
 Mr. Surrey, as his glance rested on her, and he 
 called to mind with surprise that till lately he 
 had been insensible to her beauty. How hand- 
 some she looked now, as her eye and cheek 
 brightened at his approach' How easy and 
 
200 THE GILBERTS 
 
 graceful wns her attitude! How simple, yet 
 tasteful, her dress! But who was that hand- 
 some man so earnestly speaking to her, and so 
 obviously regarding her with fascinated atten- 
 tion? A favoured admirer, no doubt. Well, 
 Mr. Surrey would not interrupt their discourse, 
 and so mar the pleasure which they were en- 
 joying; and he turned towards the further end 
 of the room and there seated himself. The buzz 
 of lively conversation was going on around him, 
 marring the effect of Fanny's music, and he was 
 beginning to feel his position irksome, and to 
 regret that he had quitted his quiet study, when 
 Emily advanced towards him, and laying her 
 hand lightly on his arm, " Come," she said, 
 " come let us see whether papa is able to amuse 
 himself; whether he can make up his whist party." 
 The proposal was simple enough, but her 
 manner was flurried, and her cheeks were dyed 
 crimson. The same gentleman who had been con • 
 versing with her when first Mr. Surrey entered 
 the room, and who was still beside her, now 
 stepping forward, said, — 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 201 
 
 "I am to understand, then, that Miss Gilbert 
 denies my request ?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered, scarcely lifting her eyes 
 towards him, " yes, I must beg you to excuse me." 
 
 He bowed and withdrew. 
 
 " May 1 ask who was your rejected petitioner?" 
 enquired Mr. Surrey, as Emily and he were cros- 
 sing the room together. 
 
 " The new rector of Holywell, Mr. Sandham," 
 she replied. 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Miss Dale, as you may remember, was 
 speaking of him one day as wishing the ladies 
 of his acquaintance to assist in some of his 
 parish duty." 
 
 " And he wants now, I suppose, to enlist you 
 as a sister of charity, unconscious that you are 
 already one of the order." 
 
 " I !" exclaimed Emily. 
 
 "Yes, you." 
 
 " I really don't understand you." 
 
 "That is just as it should be; humility is a 
 grace." 
 
 K 5 
 
202 THE GILBLRTS 
 
 " Toil are quite enigmatical to-night, Mr. 
 Surrey." 
 
 '• Am I, fair Eiijily ? But where are the whist 
 phiyers ?'' 
 
 ••In that snug corner; don't you see them? 
 They are now waiting to make up another rubber." 
 
 '^ Ah ! Surrey." exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, as 
 they drew near the table, -'you are come just in 
 time. Sit down, take a hand." 
 
 '' Xo. excuse me." 
 
 " What, you won't play ? Then we must give 
 up our game." 
 
 '•Would you rather not play, Mr. Surrey?" 
 asked Emily. 
 
 •' ]\Iuch rather not." 
 
 "Papa enjoys a rubber so much." 
 
 '• He can easily make it up, I imagine." 
 
 " Xo, indeed, for Doctor Bassett has been called 
 away."' 
 
 '•Emily, my love," said Mr. Gilbert, looking 
 towards Mr. Sandham, " I suppose our reverend 
 friend yonder ci.uld not be persuaded to take a 
 hand." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 203 
 
 "Oh! no, papa, I am quite sure not." 
 
 "Well, then, there is no help for it; the game 
 must be at an end." 
 
 " No, no, let me play, I will do my best " cried 
 Emily. 
 
 " My dear," answered her father, " it is hardly 
 fair to take you from your cheerful young com- 
 panions to sit down with us grave old people." 
 But he was obviously well pleased when Emily 
 took her place opposite to him at the card 
 table. 
 
 " Are you not a sister of charity?" whispered 
 Mr. Surrey as he leaned over the back of Emily's 
 chair. 
 
 She turned her bright face towards him : — 
 " Oh, is that what you meant?" 
 
 Mr. Gilbert called her attention to the game; 
 but presently, still finding Mr. Surrey leaning 
 over her chair, she turned to him again, saying, 
 
 " Do you know who that young lady is talking 
 toRhoda?" 
 
 " No; is she in any way remarkable?" 
 
 " Give her these," she whispered, with an arch 
 
204 THE GILBERTS 
 
 smile, pulling some of the violets from her bosom, 
 " give her these." 
 
 " Do you think you have chosen a trustworthy 
 messenger?" said Mr. Surrey, taking them from 
 her hand, and carefully secreting them as he 
 walked away. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Surrey," cried Ehoda, as he 
 approached, " I am so glad you are come ! Will 
 you persuade Miss Charlotte Harris to sing her 
 manuscript song of the Lady and the Poet?" 
 
 But Miss Charlotte Harris was not a young 
 Jady to be persuaded into a performance without 
 a large pre-payment of compliment; and Mr. 
 Surrey's patience was nearly exhausted before 
 she rose affectedly and allowed him to lead her 
 to the piano. But when there the manuscript, 
 which she said had been given to her by the 
 ' interesting recluse of the Briars,' was not to 
 be found, and Miss Charlotte had the oppor- 
 tunity of playing off additional airs and graces 
 while it was being searched for ; when at length 
 the music was placed before her it was in a 
 strangely crumpled condition, which Rhoda ac- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 205 
 
 counted for by saying that Mr. Sandham had 
 had it in his hand, rolling and rumpling it 
 while he was thinking of something else, as she 
 supposed. 
 
 " Oh yes, thinking of your sister Emily, of 
 course," said the young lady, somewhat pet- 
 tishly. 
 
 " So it is Miss Gilbert who has to answer for 
 this damage," said Mr. Surrey, unrolling the 
 piece of music, and vainly endeavouring to 
 smooth it, " I suggest for her punishment that 
 you sing the song now while she is too much oc- 
 cupied to listen to it." 
 
 Miss Harris acquiesced with a bewitching 
 smile, and placing her white fingers on the keys, 
 drew up her slender throat, threw back her 
 little head, and forthwith warbled, and warbled 
 very charmingly, 
 
 Strayed a lady and a poet, 
 
 On a terrace brieht with flowers, 
 Roll'd beneath the shining river, 
 
 Rose above the castle towers. 
 And the lady gay discoursing, 
 
 And the poet mute the while, 
 Love of her, she thought, enthralled him, 
 
 And she smiled a scornful smile. 
 
206 THE GILBERTS 
 
 But the poet, he was musing 
 
 Of the river as it strayed, 
 Of the green leaves as they quivered 
 
 Now in light, and now in shade. 
 AVhile as one euti-anced with rapture, 
 
 As the lady spake he stood, 
 He in truth enchanted listened 
 
 To the linnet in the wood. 
 
 " Delightful ! '' cried Mr. Surrey; " with that 
 very sweet voice, and that soft murmuring 
 accompaniment one seems almost to hear the 
 river and the bird." 
 
 " How sentimental you all seem ! " exclaimed 
 a gay voice near. 
 
 Mr. Surrey turned quickly, "and what a 
 mischievous smile you wear ! " said he, rising, 
 and placing a chair for Emily, " but I thought 
 you were chained to the card-table." 
 
 " I am set at liberty now, in order to go to 
 the supper-table, and I am come to summon you 
 to it. Don't you see that mamma and more 
 than half the company have already gone there? " 
 
 '^ Ah, I perceive ; we must all be moving I 
 suppose," and he stepped forward with the 
 intention of conducting her to the supper- room; 
 at the same time Mr. Sandham advanced with a 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 207 
 
 similar purpose, observing which Mr. Surrey 
 half retreated, but Emily arrested the movement 
 by familiarly taking his arm, while she merely 
 acknowledged, with a slight bow, the courtesy of 
 the young clergyman. There was a thrill of 
 pleasure conveyed in her light touch, and as 
 while making some playful remark she turned 
 her gay glance on the observant countenance of 
 her companion, a kindling light rose to his 
 earnest eyes, beneath which her own looks instinc- 
 tively fell, while at the same moment she was con- 
 scious that she coloured deeply, and she hastily 
 turned aside her face in almost painful confusion. 
 
 " You will find a change of room agreeable," 
 observed Mr. Surrey, in his usual quiet tone, 
 " it is too warm for you here." 
 
 Emily felt relieved, her heightened colour had 
 been attributed to a very natural cause, and no 
 doubt she had herself misinterpreted the mean- 
 ing of the look that had for a moment been fixed 
 on her. All her gaiety at once returned, and 
 during the supper she talked and laughed with 
 her usual careless vivacity. 
 
208 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mr. Surrey, vrh:' sat beside her. was scarcely- 
 les8S animated, ani iheir conversation became a 
 playfal war of words, rendered only the more 
 piqnant bj the sentimental observations with 
 which, every now and then, it was broken in 
 upon by their neighbour, Miss Charlotte Harris. 
 Bnt Fanny, who was seated opposite, and who 
 had been mortified by her sister's attracting a 
 larger share of admiration than had fallen to her- 
 self, took no part in their cheerfulness : it was in 
 vain that Emily from time to time addressed to 
 her a laughing remark; not a word, not a smile, 
 was elicited in reply, and Mr. Sandham, who sat 
 next her, maintained also an imperturbable 
 gravity, and appeared studiously anxious that 
 his looks .should not for a moment rest on Miss 
 Gilbert, while on Fanny he bestowed only formal 
 and almost silent attention. 
 
 " What cruelty have you been per[>etrating 
 to-night?'" enquired Mr. Surrey, in a low voice, 
 and making clear his allusion by a glance towards 
 the young clergyman. 
 
 ^* I tiiink I know what you mean," answered 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 209 
 
 Emily, " but really — " and sl.e stopped short, 
 blushing deeply. 
 
 " Ah ! you do well to leave the sentence un- 
 finished, there are some subjects on which young 
 ladies never can be perfectly candid." 
 
 Emily was silent, but her cheeks became crim- 
 son. 
 
 " I assure you," she said presently, recovering 
 herself, '' that the request you heard referred to 
 a bazaar." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, a sort of Fancy Fair. There is to be a 
 new stained glass window at Holywell Church, 
 and in aid of the fund required for it, some of 
 the ladies of the parish have proposed holding a 
 bazaar, which their own work is to furnish, and 
 Mr. Sandham was endeavouring to persuade me 
 to join in the scheme and to preside at one of the 
 stalls." 
 
 " And this you refused ?" 
 
 " Yes, I cannot neglect the family work^ 
 basket." 
 
 " Not for the sake of the Church ?" 
 
210 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " No, not even for the sake of the Church, at 
 least not for Holywell Church; but Doctor Bas- 
 sett would tell you that working for home, or 
 making home pleasant, or doing anything 
 that is useful and good, is working for the 
 Church." 
 
 " For instance," said Mr. Surrey, smiling, 
 " making these nice jellies, and trifles, and tarts, 
 on which we have been feasting to-night." 
 
 " Well, I hardly know whether he would go quite 
 so far as that, but he would say it of Fanny's play- 
 ing old music that she is tired of, on our quiet 
 evenings for the sake of pleasing papa; and of 
 Ehoda's giving up gardening that she is so fond 
 of, and stitching Edmund's wrist bands instead; 
 and things of that sort." 
 
 '' And of your stitching my poor manuscript." 
 
 " Ah ! I fear not," said Emily gravely shaking 
 her head. 
 
 " Now what does that very serious look 
 imply?" 
 
 " Only that the manuscript in question has 
 nothing to do with the Church." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 211 
 
 " How can you be so sure of that, young 
 lady?" 
 
 " Oh ! because you are a philosopher." 
 
 " Are there no philosophers then, in the 
 Church that Dr. Bassett speaks of?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I forgot, there must be, for he calls 
 the whole world the Church." 
 
 "Yery well, then, don't be alarmed; you have 
 done no mischief in lending a hand to the unfor- 
 tunate manuscript." 
 
 Emily smiled, but her attention was presently 
 claimed by some departing guests, and Mr. Sur- 
 rey stole back to the quiet study. 
 
212 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 As Mrs. Gilbert and the two eldest girls were 
 one day busily employed in packing up the 
 various articles which they had prepared to send 
 to New Zealand, Ehoda, with her little arms 
 somewhat heavily burthened, came eagerly into 
 the room, and setting down on the table a large 
 and handsome writing desk, exclaimed with no 
 little elation : 
 
 " See what Mr. Surrey has given me for my 
 present to Edmund !" 
 
 " How very kind !" cried Emily, admiringly 
 examining the desk, which was fitted up in the 
 most complete manner, and well stocked besides 
 with an ample provision of pens and letter paper. 
 
AXD THEIR GUESTS. 213 
 
 " I do believe there is nobody else in the world 
 as kind as Mr. Surrey is !" 
 
 " Ah! this is just like him — so generous and 
 considerate," said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " But why is it to be Ehoda's present? — why 
 not his" own?" asked Fanny. 
 
 Ehoda answered that she had to go back tor 
 something else, and after a momentary absence 
 she returned, bringing as many books as she 
 could well carry, saying Mr. Surrey hoped that 
 a corner for them would le found in the package 
 for Edmund. 
 
 Emily was impetuously flying off to express 
 their delight to him, but was stopped by Rhoda, 
 who told her Mr. Surrey had that moment set 
 off on his walk. 
 
 '' And on purpose to be out of the way of our 
 thanks, you may be sure," said Emily. " Well, 
 was there ever anything so generous?" she con- 
 tinued, beginning to inspect the volumes; "- what 
 Taluable books they seem to be ! and what a pile 
 of them ! Now the heavy parcel that came from 
 London this morning is accounted for." 
 
214 THE GILBERTS 
 
 '' Yes, and Mr. Surrey was so afj'aid that it 
 would not arrive in time; he went late last 
 night to the railway office to enquire about it," 
 said Rhoda. 
 
 " So you were in the secret ! I wonder that 
 he is so fond of taking a mere child into his 
 confidence," cried Fanny, pettishly. 
 
 " I must say," exclaimed Emily, " I do think 
 Mr. Surrey has a right to do as he pleases, and 
 I am sure no one of us ought to find fault with 
 him about anything. We have all cause enough 
 to be thankful to him. Only think of his good- 
 ness in being here — a mere excuse for the gene- 
 rous aid he has afforded; what a relief it has 
 proved to papal I declare since Davis has re- 
 turned to the office he has become quite himself 
 again." 
 
 '' Yes," said Mrs. Gilbert, " your dear father's 
 health has very much improved; he is no longer 
 overworked, and he is growing quite cheerful 
 again." 
 
 " And," said Emily, "I am certain he feels 
 more kindly towards Edmund, and this, I do be- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 215 
 
 lieve, is in a great measure owing to Mr. Surrey. 
 I heard him the other day talking to papa a long 
 while about him, urging everything he possibly 
 could in excuse for him, and remarking that his 
 adventurous spirit would be very likely to ensure 
 his success in a new country." 
 
 '* And of course you agreed with him," said 
 Fanny. 
 
 ''Of course I did; it is exactly what I have 
 from the beginning thought myself, only Mr. 
 Surrey represented it more forcibly than I could 
 do. And then he seems to have a great deal of 
 knowledge about emigrants and settlers in 
 general, and I could see that papa was very much 
 interested and delighted with the accounts he 
 gave, and that at last he came round to be qui'e 
 of Mr. Surrey's opinion that Edmund's nature is 
 one exactly suited for an emigrant." 
 
 '^ But we must make haste with our packing," 
 suggested Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 A little further delay, however, ensue I for 
 Mr. Gilbert and Andrew, in answer to an eager 
 request of Khoda's, entering at this moment. 
 
216 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Mr. Surrey's gifts were proudly displayed to 
 them. 
 
 "• There is only one fault here," said Mr. 
 Gilbert, inspecting the desk, ''it is far too hand- 
 some." 
 
 " And the books ! Only see this pile of books, 
 papa, and all of them in such good serviceable 
 binding," cried Emily. 
 
 "Indeed, these are treasures!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Gilbert, taking up the volumes one by one, and 
 looking at the title page of each. 
 
 " And Edmund took out very few books with 
 him," said Andrew, " and he must have read 
 those over and over again on the voyage long 
 ago, so he will be doubly glad to have these." 
 
 " Why, what a vast package there will be 
 when all these things are put up!" said Mr. 
 Gilbert, looking round upon the miscellaneous 
 articles that lay about the room. " You have 
 each, I believe, contributed something towards 
 it." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, and every one of us : and Miss 
 Dale also. And now you see here are Mr. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 217 
 
 Surrey's beautiful presents to crown the whole. 
 What a rich freight it will be! " cried Emily, 
 " and how precious to Edmuird ! " 
 
 " Yes, coming from home, how dearly he will 
 value it ! " murmured Rhoda. 
 
 " And yet, my children, if I know my son's 
 heart rightly, with all these treasures he will 
 find one thing wanting, unless another gift be 
 added," said Mr. Gilbert, with a slightly falter- 
 ing voice. " Give him this then," he continued, 
 detaching from his watch-chain an old family 
 seal, and placing it on the writing-desk, " give 
 him this then, in token of his father's love." 
 
 Emily sprang forward and threw her arms 
 round her father's neck, kissing him again and 
 again, while her tears fell fast over his furrowed 
 cheek, and in broken words she strove to give 
 utterance to her grateful joy, but she could only 
 tremulously sob forth, " dear papa ! — kind papa ! 
 — how I thank you! — how I love you!" 
 
 Mr. Gilbert strained her to his heart, and 
 strove to kiss away her tears; but he could only 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE GILBERTS 
 
 mingle his own with them : and presently of that 
 little family party there was not one with dry 
 eyes — all wept for joy — all felt that full forgive- 
 ness was now accorded to the banished prodigal, 
 and all requited the gracious deed with the 
 heart's silent thanksgiving. 
 
 But in a little time composure was restored : 
 Mr. Gilbert and x^ndrew returned to the office, 
 and Mrs. Gilbert and the girls diligently re- 
 sumed their occupation. 
 
 '^ How pleased Edmund will be with this ! " 
 said Emily, pausing in her labour, and looking 
 intently at a small landscape in water-colours, 
 which she was about to pack up, " this view of 
 the sloping hay-field, and the old mill, and the 
 little wooden-bridge crossing the quiet stream 
 where he used to fish. And, mamma, see how 
 beautifully it is painted ! I do believe it is one 
 of Miss Dale's very best pictures." 
 
 " She wished it to be so," answered Mrs. Gil- 
 bert; '' she said it would be well to keep alive in 
 dear Edmund's heart the remembrance of the 
 favourite haunts of his bovhood; and she be- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 219 
 
 stowed much time and pains on this little land- 
 scape." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Emily, still looking wistfully 
 at the picture, " T think I see him now, dear 
 boy, with his rod and line standing just there, 
 leaning over the broken rail of the bridge," and 
 with her eyes swimming in tears, Emily began, 
 to cover the picture with one of the many folds 
 of paper in which it was to be carefully 
 wrapped. 
 
 " Mr. Sandham was calling on Miss Dale, one 
 day, just as she was finishing the picture, and he 
 tried hard to persuade her to send it to the 
 bazaar for the Holywell church window," said 
 Rhoda. 
 
 " Ah! as a gift to Edmund it is much better 
 bestowed," cried Emily. 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Fanny, " better than if 
 it had been given for the sake of beautifying the 
 church ! " 
 
 " That simple country church is best as it is, 
 in my opinion," said Emily, " and let them put 
 there what painted glass they please, no heart 
 L 2 
 
220 THE GILBERTS 
 
 will be touched by it as Edmund's will at sight 
 of this old houie scene coming to him in a far 
 country : dear fellow ! I am sure, whenever he 
 looks on it, it will bring tears to his eyes, 
 gracious tears, as Miss Dale would call them. 
 
 " I don't believe that under any circumstances 
 she would have given it for the bazaar," said 
 Fanny. 
 
 " Very likely not. But I do think Mr. Sand- 
 ham is too presuming in his requests. Mamma, 
 do you like him?" 
 
 '' I have no doubt he means well, my dear, 
 and I think he would be very glad if you could 
 like him." 
 
 " That I never can." 
 
 " And 1 know why," said Fanny. 
 
 '•'- He does not please me," said Emily, blush- 
 ing deeply. 
 
 " Ah, that is not what I meant," observed 
 Fanny. 
 
 " I see no reason why he should not please 
 you, my love," said Mrs. Gilbert; "he is cer- 
 tainly gentlemanly, and handsome; and, what is 
 
AXD THEIR GUESTS. 221 
 
 ar mr:3 vn portant, he is, if report speaks truly, 
 an excellent clergyman." 
 
 "A narrow-minded and bigoted one, as I 
 think." said Emily. 
 
 " I dare say he is quite in the right, though," 
 said Fanny. 
 
 "Yes, if intolerance is the right; but, be it 
 right or wrong, I detest it," cried Emily. 
 
 "Hush, hush, my dear, you are a little too 
 vehement," said Mrs. Gilbert. " Let us say no 
 more about him ; and proceed as quickly as we 
 can with our work." 
 
 " I hope, after all our care, that the things 
 will get safely to New Zealand," said Fanny, 
 " but it is very likely, that somehow or other, 
 they will all be lost: only think, the ship we 
 send them by may be wrecked or burned." 
 
 " Well, you do conjure up pleasant visions, I 
 must say," exclaimed Emily. " I hope and pray 
 that dear Edmund is safe. What a happy day 
 it will be when his first letter arrives! But 
 oh, how long we must wait for it ! " 
 
 " The time will soon pass," said Mrs. Gilbert, 
 '' it slips away very quickly." 
 
222 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " So, indeed, it does. I was thinking only 
 yesterday, when I was reckoning up the number 
 of weeks Mr. Surrey has been here, that they 
 have seemed really to fly.'^ 
 
 " And we must acknowledge, my love, that 
 he has helped to make them fly very pleasantly." 
 
 "Poor Miss Dale!" cried Emily, "what a 
 pity it is that she has been so ill almost ever 
 since he has been here." 
 
 " Especially as he came for the sake of her 
 society," observed Fanny. 
 
 "I don't think that; but of course he must 
 regret that while here he has been able to enjoy 
 so little of it." 
 
 " You believe, perhaps, that he finds attrac- 
 tions nearer home," said Fanny. 
 
 " I tell you what I believe," retorted Emily, 
 " that it is sheer kindness and generosity which 
 induces Mr. Surrey to stay here — that it is a 
 mere excuse for his liberality towards us; and 
 I should consider it unjust and ungrateful to 
 impute to his conduct any other motive." 
 
 "You are quite in the right, my dear Emily," 
 cried Mrs. Gilbert ; " Mr. Surrey has given us 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 223 
 
 ample proofs of his disinterested goodness; and 
 as to the intimacy between Miss Dale and him- 
 self it is no concern of ours; they surely may 
 be allowed to manage their own affairs without 
 animadversion from us." 
 
 '' There is no harm in anything that I have 
 ever said about them," cried Fanny. 
 
 "No actual harm, my love, certainly; and 
 yet it is a little hard that a lady and gentleman 
 of middle age cannot associate together without 
 subjecting themselves to the idle imputation of 
 entertaining for each other a tenderer sentiment 
 than that of friendship." 
 
 " To be sure it is ! " exclaimed Emily, '' and I 
 think Miss Dale would be very much annoyed 
 if it reached her ear. I wonder though at what 
 age people do give up being in love, as it is 
 called. For my part I don't see why the old 
 should not like one another well enough to marry 
 as well as the young." 
 
 '' You need not go far for an example, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Gilbert, smiling, " your father 
 and 1 certainly furnish you with one." 
 
224 THE GILBERTS 
 
 "I declare I bad forgotten all about tbat at 
 tbe moment," said Emily; " but you and papa 
 were not old wben you married; you are not 
 old now." 
 
 " Not absolutely in tbe sear and yellow leaf, 
 but old, nevertbeless, in comparison witb you 
 young people, like tbe two friends we bave just 
 been speaking of." 
 
 '' Miss Dale says tbere are some bearts tbat 
 never grow old," cried Rboda. 
 
 '' And I know tbe kind of beart tbat sbe 
 means," responded Emily, " it is one tbat 
 sympatby feeds perpetually witb new life; and 
 sbe bas berself just sucb a beart." 
 
 " Sbe bad sucb a tender smile and sucb 
 kind tears in ber eyes wben sbe gave me tbe 
 picture for Edmund," said Rboda. 
 
 '' Poor dear Edmund ! sbe always liked bim ; 
 and be was so fond cf ber ! bow be will prize 
 tbe picture." 
 
 *' And wbat a pleasure tbe unpacking of all 
 tbe tbings will be! " said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 "Yes, bow deligbted Edmund will be!" 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 225 
 
 exclaimed Emily, " I think I see him now, his 
 bright eyes full of joy, and in his eager haste 
 tumbling one over the other all these little pack- 
 ages that we have so carefully made up, cutting 
 a string here — tearing off a cover there — and 
 hardly allowing himself time to look at one 
 thing in his impatience to see another." 
 
 " But when he finds papa's seal ! " cried 
 Ehoda. 
 
 " Ah ! that indeed will be the treasure of 
 treasures ! " 
 
 L 5 
 
22G THE GJLBEKTS 
 
 CHAPTEK XII 
 
 Spring bad now advanced; the earth was re- 
 joicing in the vigour and freshness of renewed 
 youth, and the clear blue sky was ringing with 
 the music of the lark. In the early leaves of 
 the oak there was yet lingering a light golden 
 tinge, while the branches of the elm and the 
 beech, covered with foliage of a deeper hue, 
 were already yielding grateful shade. The fields 
 and the hedgerows wore their freshest tints of 
 tender green, and countless wild flowers with 
 fantastic grace wreathed with delicate bloom the 
 knotted trunk of many an old storm-bent tree, 
 and to many a rugged bank, and many a pensive 
 woodland nook gave a fleeting charm. Clear 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 227 
 
 rivulets flowed swiftly along, leaves and blossoms 
 were gently stirred, and the' soft concord of 
 whispering breeze and murmuring stream, 
 blending with other harmonious sounds innu- 
 merable, was lost in one gracious melody per- 
 vading all earth and air — melody so toned down 
 by nature's unerring skill, that with no human 
 feeling, whether of grief or gladness, would it 
 jar. 
 
 In a cool grassy spot, where the light breeze 
 freely played, and a spreading tree lent its kindly 
 shade, sat Miss Dale, the pencil in her hand and 
 the sketch book open before her. She was now 
 convalescent; the pure breath of the young 
 spring had brought the hue of health to her 
 cheek, and the sense of vigour to her mind. 
 There was a clear and cheerful light in her eyes, 
 a serene expression on her lips, and in her whole 
 mien an indication of renewed energy harmoniz- 
 ing with the aspect of the season. She looked 
 long and intently on a portion of the landscape 
 before her, then rose, advanced a few paces, and 
 viewing it again attentively from her new posi- 
 
228 THE GILBERTS 
 
 tion, placed the camp chair she carried, and 
 seating herself, began carefully to sketch. The 
 picture she designed to paint would he charming; 
 so thought Miss Dale, as after a few effective 
 strokes, pausing in her sketch, she musingly con- 
 templated the view before her. The graceful 
 bend of the clear river, the overhanging branch 
 of the old flowering thorn, that garlanded with 
 snowy bloom, almost swept the shining ripples, 
 which the golden sunshine, stealing through 
 green leaves lightly moved by the soft wind, 
 touched with variable lustre. The sloping bank, 
 with its forest of broad-leaved plants, and the 
 bare-legged urchin on its rugged edge, who, 
 leaning eagerly forward with an outstretched 
 osier wand, strove vainly to reach a full-blown 
 water lily that, serenely poised on the water's 
 surface, delusively seemed ever floating towards 
 him. A little lower the river flowed almost in 
 darkness, boughs thick with foliage over-arching 
 and inventing it with an intensity of shadow 
 that was akin to gloom, and from the depths of 
 this shadow a little boat was now emerging, its 
 
AXD THEIR GUESTS. 229 
 
 sole occupant sufferinof it to float lazily along, 
 impelled only by the gentle force of the current, 
 ■while he, in a half recumbent posture, his head 
 resting against the edge of the boat, fastened 
 his eyes on a book, which he held so as to 
 shadow his brow. But presently he was roused 
 from his studious occupation ; the course of the 
 boat was impeded, the projecting root of a tree, 
 perhaps, arrested its further progress ; he must 
 have recourse to the oar, and he took up the 
 solitary one which lay at the bottom of his little 
 skiff, and with it began to push vigorously 
 against the hidden obstruction, and in a few 
 seconds the light boat was floating placidly on- 
 wards. Soon, however, the oar was again in 
 his hand, and in another moment, seizing one 
 end of a coil of rope which was attached to the 
 bow of the boat, he had leaped on shore and 
 made the little cable fast to the pliant branch of 
 an osier which overhung the stream, then hastily 
 clambering the steep uneven bank, he speedily 
 reached level ground, and advancing a few steps 
 stood beside the camp chair. 
 
230 THE GILBERTS 
 
 ^' You are an idle boater," said Miss Dale, 
 quietly looking up from her sketch book. 
 " You expected me here before ?" 
 '' I did not expect you here at all." 
 " No! did I not say that I would come?" 
 '' Not that you would come to-day." 
 " Did I not say that when the sunshine stole 
 through the green leaves, when the hawthorn^s 
 white blossom dipped into the stream, when one 
 sweet bird sang — listen now — did I not say I 
 should look for you here I" 
 
 '' You are in a poetic vein, I think, to-day." 
 ^' And are not you? Is there no poetry there?" 
 and he glanced over her shoulder at the unfinished 
 sketch. 
 
 '' The poetry of nature." 
 '' But it is the poetic eye only that can read 
 it," and he looked again at the sketch with which 
 her pencil was still busy. " Ah, and there is 
 my little boat ! but there is no sign of anyone in 
 it." 
 
 " Were you not invisible, reclining and dream- 
 ing at the bottom of it?" 
 
AND THEIR GULSTS. 231 
 
 *' But you knew that I was there. '^ 
 
 ''' Who but you could I have supposed would 
 allow the boat to drift at the will and pleasure 
 of the fickle stream towards an unseen danger?" 
 
 " Danger ! there was no danger in the slight 
 obstacle it encountered." 
 
 " Xo, but a little further on, the current is 
 strong, there are eddies and whirlpools. This 
 fair-faced stieam would play you false if you 
 ventured on it too far." 
 
 " And I was just hoping to row you to the 
 old wooden bridge, but you will not venture with 
 me?" 
 
 "No, I have no predilection for a watery 
 grave." 
 
 " Not with yon floating lily for a monument? 
 It would furnish the quiet tomb with an apt 
 inscription, a trite memento." 
 
 " In an unknown tongue," said Miss Dale. 
 
 " Nay," he said, " I should read it thus : — 
 ' Tranquil, immoveable, unapproachable.' " 
 
 '• Should you read aright ? See now how your 
 pale lily sways to and fro, as the current flows on." 
 
232 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Yes, there is a slight symptom of wavering 
 from time to time, beguiling the deluded seeker 
 into the belief that he shall yet win it, never- 
 theless its place remains unchangeable, always 
 aloof from the rash hand that would snatch 
 it from its loneliness — it loves to be companion- 
 less." 
 
 " It would not bear transplanting now ; it 
 has floated too long in the cold stream," said Miss 
 Dale. 
 
 " Ah ! you and I both can furnish a homily 
 on the baneful effects of protracted solitude," 
 said Mr. Surrey, as he seated himself on the 
 grass beside her. 
 
 "' Are you not taking a somewhat altered view 
 of the subject?" gravely inquired his companion. 
 
 '' What hard questions you put," said Mr. 
 Surrey, while a half conscious smile stole over 
 his face, " suppose now that I in turn should play 
 the inquisitor?" 
 
 "You w^ould find nothing to repay you for 
 the trouble." 
 
 There was a somewhat long pause. Miss Dale 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 233 
 
 became absorbed in her sketch, and Mr. Surrey, 
 not caring to interrupt her, moved his position a 
 little further off, and leaning against the trunk 
 of an adjacent tree, and pulling his hat over his 
 brow, fell into a meditative mood. 
 
 He was roused out of it by an exclamation from 
 Miss Dale. She had caught sight of Mrs. Copeland, 
 who after advancing towards her, paused hesitat- 
 ingly on perceiving that her friend was not alone. 
 He looked up, and recognizing the lady whom 
 he had twice before encountered, raised his hat. 
 She slightly returned his bow, and then seating 
 herself beside the artist enquired what progress 
 she had made with her pencil. 
 
 " Very little to-day, but you will find here a 
 few sketches to which I have put the finishing 
 touches, since you last saw them," answered Miss 
 Dale. 
 
 Mrs. Copeland took the portfolio from her 
 friend's hands, and laying it before her looked 
 among the drawings which it contained; but 
 she had hardly begun her search when a sudden 
 puff of the light air, sweeping by, scattered the 
 
234 THE GILBERTS 
 
 loose papers in every direction. 
 
 " Oh, what mischief have I caused !" she cried 
 -with a voice of consternation. 
 
 "None at all," answered Miss Dale, but as 
 she spoke, two or three of the drawings were 
 blown down the sloping bank, and presently they 
 were on the stream. 
 
 Mr. Surrey sprang up and hastily unfastening 
 his little boat, leaped into it and pursued the 
 floating sketches; he succeeded in recovering 
 them. 
 
 " They are not quite spoiled I hope," he said, as 
 before handing them to Miss Dale, he endeavoured 
 to free them from the water with which they had 
 been saturated. 
 
 " I cannot forgive myself for the harm I have 
 occasioned," said Mrs- Copeland, looking with 
 dismay at the dripping papers. 
 
 " There has been no harm at all, only the oc- 
 casion for a little agreeable delay," answered 
 Miss Dale; "I assure you sketching is the plea- 
 santest occupation I have, and I would willingly 
 lengthen the time that I devote to it." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 235 
 
 " But I think you can have no more to-day," 
 said Mr. Surrey, " so what shall we do ? Shall 
 •we take a stroll a little further on ? " 
 
 '' With all my heart; but let the stroll be 
 homewards, for Mrs. Copeland and I have both 
 a long way before us. And what is to become of 
 the boat ? " 
 
 "It can remain where it is for the present; 
 in the eveninsf I can walk tliis wav and row 
 back in it. And now let us pack up the sketches 
 very securely; and give me the portfolio, I will 
 take charge of it, and the camp-chair I shall put 
 into the boat." 
 
 " Yery well; you shall do as you like." 
 
 " That is right; I could always manage better 
 for you than you do for yourself." 
 
 '' I don't admit that at all." 
 
 " There is no need to tell me so; I know you 
 don't." And Mr. Surrey walked off towards the 
 boat, with the camp-chair in his hand. 
 
 " What curious terms, Lousia, you and your 
 friend yonder appear to be on," presently ob- 
 served Mrs. Copeland. 
 
236 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Our intimacy is a little out of the common 
 way, I confess," answered Miss Dale, and she 
 gave briefly some explanation of the circum- 
 stances that had led to its gradual progress. 
 
 " But do you find no danger to your feelings 
 in this sort of familiar intercourse ? " inquired 
 her companion. 
 
 " My dear Jane, what need is there to take a 
 microscopic view of the nature of this friend- 
 ship? It is enough to feel that it is precious: 
 it is the one sunbeam left on my path." 
 
 Any remark in reply to this frank avowal was 
 prevented, for Mr. Surrey approached : observing 
 that a delightful breeze had sprung up he pro- 
 posed that they should mount some rising ground 
 near to enjoy it. '' But confess," said he, as they 
 began to climb the green ascent, "confess that this 
 — your favorite country — is lamentably deficient 
 in high land." 
 
 "Pardon me, my favorite country it is not," 
 answered Miss Dale, " nevertheless, it pleases me 
 well. I like the quie charm of its pastoral cha- 
 racter; I like the placid mood which it evokes." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 237 
 
 *' I thought," said Mr. Surrey, '^ that you de- 
 lighted in a far different prospect — that the as- 
 pect of the ever-varying sea had for you an 
 attraction that no other scene could possess." 
 
 " Yes, it was once so : but those restless waves 
 would no longer harmonize with my spirit. 
 Yon tame fields that lie stretched before us, ac- 
 cord well with my present aspirations, that are but 
 for peace. I have done with the love of change." 
 
 " Ah ! this mood of yours is the result of your 
 having been too long stationary, and too much 
 in solitude." 
 
 " No, it is from very weariness." 
 
 " Well, then, here you shall rest awhile ; but 
 when this weariness shall have passed, as pass it 
 will, you shall look on the waves of the sea and 
 the waves of time anew, and they will again bear 
 to you a bright aspect." 
 
 " Bright with the mournful radiance of the 
 setting sun," said Miss Dale. 
 
 ''Nay, it shall be a tempered radiance, that 
 falls midway between noon and sundown, and it 
 shall light up a fair scene for you yet." 
 
238 THE GILBERTS 
 
 "Are you a prophet?" 
 
 " Have faith in my predictions, and you shall 
 find that I am." 
 
 " I need faith— faith in all things." 
 
 " My dear Louisa," cried Mrs. Copeland, "you 
 are not so unhappy." 
 
 "No, no; she is but half an infidel," said Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " And that surely is half too much," rejoined 
 Mrs. Copeland ; '' but I know her well. She is 
 not one of the faithless." 
 
 " In every thoughtful mind there is, doubtless, 
 some iiTiseen depth where lies its anchor of trust," 
 observed Mr. Surrey; "but why," said he pre- 
 sently, unwilling to pursue further the grave sub- 
 ject they had fallen upon, " why, while Nature 
 is inviting us to contemplate her cheerfullest 
 aspect, should we be thinking of anything but 
 the pleasant sunshine of to-day. The very 
 daisies, starring this green path of ours, seem 
 rejoicing in their existence. What a blue sky 
 is above! Ah! and listen to the lark: he is 
 pouring forth his blithest song." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 239 
 
 " For the enjoyment of the daisies, as well as 
 for ours, perhaps," said Miss Dale, smiling. 
 
 '' My dear Louisa, what a fanciful brain yours 
 is ! " exclaimed Mrs. Copeland. 
 
 " Oh, this is nothing compared to some of 
 the vagaries that find place there," cried Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 "How severe you are upon me!" said Miss 
 Dale. '• For the future I must not give utterance 
 to the whimsical thoughts that sometimes creep 
 into my mind, stirring it with pleasant fancies, 
 and letting in f^intastic gleams to play across its 
 dismal shade." 
 
 " But, indeed, we cannot submit to be so 
 punished; we delight in these cheerful f^mcies 
 that so gracefully chequer the graver mood ; 
 without them the charm would be incom- 
 plete." 
 
 Mrs. Copeland glanced furtively at her friend : 
 Miss Dale's cheek was rosy red, but the sunny 
 breeze w^as freely blowing on it, and might well 
 invest it with a transient bloom. " Ah ! dear 
 
240 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Louisa," she thought, " the youthful heart and 
 the youthful cheek revive again under genial 
 influence; your summer is not yet all gone." 
 And Mr. Surrey also looked at the beaming 
 face, and said — '' We must repeat these pleasant 
 rambles; they do you good. You are looking 
 perfectly well." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The trim old-fashioned garden at the back of 
 Mr. Gilbert's house looked quite gay now, as the 
 cheerful noon-day sunshine fell on its smooth 
 yellow paths and radiant flower plots, all neatly 
 bordered with verdant box. The blithe chirping 
 of birds and the hum of early bees made pleasant 
 music there ; and a pair of newly-awakened but- 
 terflies rising up out of the flowers, flut^"ering 
 their jewelled wings, flew to pastime together in 
 the sunny air. Little Rhoda, holding in her 
 hand a few choice blossoms which she had been 
 stooping to gather, now lifting her head, spied 
 the gay playmates^ and, with her broad garden 
 hat thrown back and her bright waving hair 
 VOL. I. M 
 
24*2 THE GILBERTS 
 
 hanging carelessly about her face, stood watching 
 their airy sport, her cheeks softly flushed and 
 her eyes shining with gay light. 
 
 " Ah, my little queen, you are wishing for 
 wings, and to be a butterfly yourself! " cried 
 Mr. Surrey throwing open his study window 
 and looking out upon the little paradise before 
 him. 
 
 "No, no," answered Ehoda, "no, no; if I 
 could have wings, I would not like to be anything 
 so idle." 
 
 " Oh you would be a little dusky, laborious 
 bee, would you ? 
 
 " No, I would be an eagle ! " 
 
 " You ambitious little mortal ! " 
 
 " I should like to look at the sun." 
 
 " And is not the earth bright enough to look 
 at with all these ])eautiful blossoms and birds 
 and butterflies." 
 
 " But they will all die one day." 
 
 "No matter, my little moralizer, there will 
 be others in their stead, and by and by another 
 you and T to enjoy them." 
 
AND TilElR GUESTS. 243 
 
 " Are you talking philosophy to my little 
 sister?" exclaimed a cheerful voice from an 
 upper chamber window. 
 
 Mr. Surrey looked up and saw Emily's smil- 
 ing face leaning forward. 
 
 " Has Khoda told you our news? " she asked. 
 
 " No, come and tell it me yourself. Let us 
 all three take a stroll in the garden ! " 
 
 '' With all my heart! I have just fulfilled my 
 promise. Look here ! Catch it now ! " and 
 there came fluttering down from her fair hands 
 a silk handkerchief, in a corner of which were 
 delicately embroidered the letters W. S. 
 
 " Thanks, sweet sister of charity/' cried Mr. 
 Surrey as he caught the flying treasure, and then 
 smilingly contemplated the elaborately wrought 
 initials, •' thanks," and he thrust the handker- 
 chief in his bosom. 
 
 "And what is our news?" he asked, as pre- 
 sently afterwards, with Emily's arm linked in 
 his, he was pacing the sunny garden path, while 
 Rhoda skipped gaily before them, " what is our 
 news? " 
 
 M 2 
 
244 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " We are expecting a visitor. Mrs. Ducken- 
 field is coming to stay with us for two or three 
 weeks; you have heard us speak of her." 
 
 '' I think I have heard you mention the 
 name; and when is the lady to arrive?" 
 
 " This very evening." 
 
 " And she is to have Fanny's room,'* said 
 Ehoda, "• and Fanny is to go to Emily's." 
 
 " Yes, and Rhoda and I have been very busy 
 this morning; I think you must have heard the 
 bustle we made; we have been stowing away 
 superfluous tables and chairs and very cleverly 
 contriving to be able to install Fanny in the 
 self'Same snug little corner that she occupied 
 years ago, when she was a good little girl; for 
 you must know that my room was once upon a 
 time our nursery and shared by us all." 
 
 " But you must not inconvenience yourselves 
 in this way. You shall have my room. I will 
 go off to the hotel." 
 
 "• Indeed you must do no such thing : it would 
 spoil all our charming arrangements; and it is 
 quite an enjoyment to restore the old nursery to 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 245 
 
 its original state, it brings back a great many 
 interesting recollections." 
 
 " What a delightful manner you have of ex- 
 tracting pleasure out of any little circumstance, 
 that, to a person less amiable than yourself, would 
 yield only annoyance! I have observed this 
 happy propensity of yours in a hundred in- 
 stances." 
 
 Emily blushed. " I don't deserve half the 
 kind things that you say of me, Mr. Surrey." 
 
 "• I say no more than I think. You don't be- 
 lieve that I am insincere." 
 
 " That indeed I do not ; but somehow or 
 other— " 
 
 '* Well, what of somehow or other ? " 
 
 " Why, somehow or other you regard my little 
 sayings and doings with too much partiality." 
 
 " And if I do so, why is it?" 
 
 " Oh ! I know very well that I am a little bit 
 of a favorite of yours," she cried, turning her 
 looks smilingly towards him, but she met a glance 
 that she had once before encountered, and drop- 
 ping her eyes she coloured deeply. 
 
246 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Do you know more than this, sweet Emily?" 
 he asked with a somewhat mournful voice, " do 
 you know that I sometimes fear mj solitary 
 future will be the sadder for this pleasant visit 
 of mine?" 
 
 " But why not live always among your friends? 
 Why go into solitude at all ?" she asked. 
 
 " My mind has become attuned to it: and else- 
 where I have no place,*' he replied. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Surrey ! " 
 
 " No, from time to time I find myself in some 
 happy domestic circle, but I go and there is no 
 void left — it closes again — it is complete with- 
 out me." 
 
 " That will not be the case here," said she, laying 
 her hand upon his with an impulse of tenderness. 
 
 " Yes — even here," he answered, " and the 
 friendly pressure of this dear hand," he added, 
 fondly folding it within his own, '^ must soon be 
 to me but a sad memory." 
 
 " Why should it be so ? " she asked, but as 
 she spoke she coloured in some confusion and 
 softly disengaged her hand from his clasp. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 247 
 
 " Xay, there is no need to pursue this subject 
 further," he said, " we have not fallen on a 
 happy topic; let us dismiss it! Let us look 
 into this beautiful flower, " he^continued, gather- 
 ing a newly-blown ranunculus; *' what perfection 
 of colouring is here ! What living splendour 
 lies in these soft petals! Even in her frailest 
 and minutest works how lavish uf her glory is 
 nature ! " 
 
 Emily took the flower from his hand and 
 looked at it in silence, but her thoughts were 
 wandering, and the varying colour in her cheek 
 betrayed some secret emotion. Presently uncon- 
 sciously she let the flower drop, and as they 
 stepped forward it was trampled under foot. 
 
 '* She is busy with some picture of her fancy 
 in which I have no part," thought Mr. Surrey 
 as he noticed the little incident and perceived 
 the changeful bloom of her half-averted coun- 
 tenance; and unwilling to interrupt her reverie 
 he quietly left her side and advanced towards 
 Ehoda, who had now stayed her gay steps and 
 seated on a garden bench was intent on the 
 arrangement of some newly gathered flowers. 
 
248 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " I am making a nosegay for you/^ she said, 
 looking up as he stood silently watching her 
 twining the stems, " and it is to be set in the 
 midst of your books on the study table ; it is to 
 be the living book there." 
 
 " What a little sage you are ! " 
 
 " And these," said Ehoda, pointing to some 
 brilliant blossoms which lay on the bench beside 
 her, " these are for Mrs. Duckenfield." 
 
 " I like my flowers the best." 
 
 " So do I," said Rhoda, " but the others are 
 the brightest." 
 
 " And therefore better suited for a beautiful 
 lady. Is not that it?" 
 
 '' I don^t think she is beautiful, but I almost 
 forget; I can only remember that she was very 
 good-natured and used to laugh a great deal, but 
 I suppose she will be quite changed and very 
 sad now she is a widow." 
 
 " Oh I thought there was a Captain Ducken- 
 field ! " 
 
 " So there was when she came to see us before, 
 but he is dead now and that is why she is com- 
 ing to talk to papa about her money." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 249 
 
 " And a very pleasant thing to talk about 
 when there is enough of it," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " But I believe Mrs. Duckenfield can't get as 
 much as she has a right to have, and so she 
 wants papa's help that she may be able to get 
 what she ought. She is a sort of cousin of ours. 
 Isn't it a funny name, Duckenfield? Sophy 
 Duckenfield, as papa calls her.'* 
 
 " It is a nice, cosy, cheery name, I think," 
 said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " What name can that be about which you 
 have so pleasant a fancy?" enquired Emily, who 
 just then came up to them. 
 
 " It is the name I understand of your ex- 
 pected guest." 
 
 " Well, I do assure you, it always seems to 
 me that her name is just like herself; Sophy 
 Duckenfield ! I am persuaded there is no other 
 name in the whole world that would suit her so 
 well." 
 
 " I am beginning to have a little curiosity to 
 see the fair owner of it," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 "You w^ill be the best friends in the world," 
 M 5 
 
250 THE GILBERTS 
 
 returned Emily, " but you must take a little care 
 of yourself." 
 
 "Why so, I pray?'^ 
 
 " Oh ! the little lady can, in her way, be 
 somewhat dangerous. When she was last here 
 1 do assure you that Edmund had enough to do 
 to escape being bewitched by her; and he was a 
 mere boy then, not older than Andrew is now." 
 
 " No wonder then if he were bewitched ; boys 
 are prone to love." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't mean to say that there was any 
 harm — anything like love in the case, for you 
 know Mrs. Duckenfield was not then a widow." 
 
 Mr. Surrey smiled. 
 
 " I only mean," continued Emily, "that dear 
 Edmund was taken with her lively manners, and 
 a good deal flattered by the notice she bestowed 
 on him." 
 
 "And what did Captain Duckenfield say to it?" 
 
 " Oh ! the dear good old gentleman seemed 
 quite content, for really his gay little wife was 
 extremely good natured to him, and took care to 
 make him comfortable in his own way. She 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 251 
 
 must have been dreadfully shocked to lose 
 him; it was very sad, he died in India from the 
 effect of some over-fatigue, and at a distance 
 from his wife and child." 
 
 " There is a child. Is there? " said Mr. Surrey. 
 " How shall you contrive with your house full of 
 guests? I really think I had better take the 
 opportunity of making a run up to London." 
 
 " Oh ! by no means ! " cried Emily ; " and the 
 little boy is not coming here at all; he is to be 
 left in Wales with his father's relations." 
 
 " Dear little David ! How I should like to 
 have him here to run about with in the garden! " 
 said Rhoda. "But look at my nosegays now ! are 
 they not beautiful?" she cried, holding them up 
 to view for a moment, " I must set them in water 
 at once, while they are quite fresh," and she ran 
 quickly into the house. 
 
 "What a little charmer she is! and how 
 blooming she has become ! To-day she is look- 
 ing as bright as her brightest flowers," said Mr. 
 Surrey. 
 
 " Yes, she is really looking quite pretty ; and 
 
252 THE GILBERTS 
 
 she is the very sweetest and best little girl in 
 the whole world ! " 
 
 " Emily, Emily, are you ever coming in, or 
 are you going to waste all your time out of doors 
 to-day?" exclaimed a peevish voice, and Fanny's 
 face, wearing a very discontented expression, 
 appeared at an open window overlooking the 
 garden. 
 
 " My dear Fan, I must have a little of this 
 delicious sunshine : I wish you would come and 
 enjoy it, too! Everything is made ready for 
 Mrs. Duckenfield, so we really may indulge in a 
 little idleness now." 
 
 " I hate idleness," cried Fanny. 
 
 " Not surely such idleness as we have here," 
 said Mr. Surrey; "not the enjoyment of this 
 sweet spring day ! Do come out yourself." 
 
 "Pray do, dear!" entreated her sister. 
 
 "Oh! I am sure I cannot be wanted!" an- 
 swered Fanny, shutting down the window. 
 
 " I am very sorry, but I must go in now, or 
 poor dear Fanny will think it unkind," said 
 Emily. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 253 
 
 " I know what she ought to think," observed 
 Mr. Surrey, " that her sister has an angelic 
 temper." 
 
 " But, unfortunately, that would not be the 
 truth, for my temper is not exactly a good one, 
 it is too hasty, as I am sure even you, Mr. 
 Surrey, must long ago have discovered." 
 
 *'I should utterly deny this if I did not fear 
 the imputation of flattery." 
 
 "Now you don't really wish, I dare say, to 
 make me conceited, but, indeed, your are running 
 great risk of it." 
 
 " That is what you never could be — yours is 
 not a nature to admit of it." 
 
 " Nevertheless, it may be wise to keep out of 
 the way of temptation," said Emily, laughing, 
 " and therefore I shall run away from you at 
 once," and, quickening her steps, she hastened 
 into the house. 
 
 '' She is a deliglitful creature I" thought Mr. 
 Surrey, as he continued pacing the garden-path. 
 " She is a delightful creature ! So honest-hearted, 
 so happy herself in striving to make others 
 
254 THE GILBERTS 
 
 happy; and with spirit and energy enough to 
 overcome a host of petty evils. Her nature is 
 transparent as truth itself, and her impulses are 
 all of a fine and generous character. How plea- 
 sant might she make any man's home ! What 
 cheerfulness and industry she would bring to it! 
 She is the genuine woman, worth all the fine 
 ladies in the world!" But at this moment there 
 rose to his mind the thought of one who was a 
 complete contrast to the subject of his eulogy — 
 one whose influence he still remembered, but 
 whose caprice, the true origin of his isolated po- 
 sition, he had ceased to regret. 
 
 The slender form — the pale, expressive coun- 
 tenance were again before him as he recalled the 
 soft langour of manner alternating with the 
 bright intelligence, or the playful vivacity, that 
 had once so deeply en thi ailed him. 
 
 But these were of the past, and it was of the 
 present that he had now need to consider. His 
 meditation reverted to Emily — he began to spe- 
 culate on the probable state of her affections — 
 were they already bestowed, or were they still 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 255 
 
 free? — and if free, what mattered it to him — to 
 him, so much further advanced along the path 
 of life, and with the sting of early disappoint- 
 ment still rankling in his heart. Nevertheless, he 
 would observe more closely— he would, at least, 
 ascertain whether the avenue to that gracious 
 heart lay open. 
 
256 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 The conversation at the family dinner was this 
 day more than usually lively, a great deal being 
 said about the expected guest, whose sayings 
 and doings during her last visit to them were 
 now good naturedly discussed by the little party. 
 Various were the droll anecdotes related of her, 
 occasioning bursts of merriment even from Mr. 
 Gilbert himself, with whom, however, it ap- 
 peared that his fair kinswoman was somewhat of 
 a favorite; and certain traits of candour and 
 kindness of heart which peeped out among the 
 recorded absurdities made this no matter of sur- 
 prise to Mr. Surrey, whose attention had been 
 caught by the spirit and vivacity with which 
 many of the characteristic sketches were given. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 257 
 
 The dinner had now been some time con- 
 cluded, but the whole party, contrary to their 
 every day custom, still lingered at the table, 
 forgetting in their animated discourse the lapse 
 of time, when suddenly they were startled by 
 hearing a visitor's knock at the street door. 
 Could it possibly be Mrs. Duckenfield who had 
 arrived thus unexpectedly early ? No, there was 
 the sound of a footstep less light than hers would 
 have been, and before they had time for further 
 speculation, the room door was opened and a 
 gentleman entered — a young man of slender 
 figure, with a pale grave cast of countenance. 
 On his appearance, all rose in sudden surprise, 
 and all but one stepped eagerly forward to wel- 
 come him ; but unheeding the friendly hands ex- 
 tended, he was in a moment beside Emily, who, 
 trembling violently, her cheeks now red, now 
 pale, stood grasping for support the back of a 
 chair. As she raised her eyes towards the ex- 
 pressive glance that sought hers, and hers alone, 
 Mr. Surrey, who was intently observing her, per- 
 ceived the tender joy that beamed in them, and 
 
258 THE GILBERTS 
 
 hastily turned aside his gaze. There was no 
 need to look again — no need, he thought, to re- 
 main as a further spectator of that interesting 
 meeting, and at once quietly and unnoticed he 
 slipped out of the room. 
 
 An hour or two later he was leaning out of the 
 window of his little study, looking upon the 
 garden; but the brightness had all passed away 
 from it now. He shut down the window, turned 
 from it, and for a few moments paced the narrow 
 apartment rapidly to and fro, — then seated him- 
 self at his writing table : but the pen was not in 
 his hand, neither was he inspecting the unfi- 
 nished manuscript that had remained untouched 
 since the early morning. 
 
 There was a soft tap at the door and, — 
 " May I come in?" was demanded by a plain- 
 tive little voice. 
 
 " To be sure you may ! " And Mr. Surrey 
 rose and opened the door to his little favorite : 
 he smiled on her gently. 
 
 "Well, and what have you to say to me now?" 
 " Won't you come into the drawing-room? It 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 259 
 
 is SO pleasant, and we want you so much ; Mr. 
 Eandall is there." 
 
 " That is the very reason for your not want- 
 ing me, I should think. And what a house-full 
 you will have. My room will be wanted now, 
 at all events, if it was not before." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Eandall is staying at his own 
 home; he is only come here for a little while 
 this evening, and he will be gone quite away in 
 three days, for he cannot get longer leave of 
 absence now that his ship is just come back, 
 but by-and-bye he hopes to get a good long 
 leave. " 
 
 " And you will all be very happy when that 
 time comes." 
 
 " Yes, we all like him very much," arid Ehoda 
 proceeded to descant on her pleasant recollection 
 of the young officer's last sojourn amongst them. 
 
 Mr. Surrey continued silent, and by-and-bye 
 taking up his pen dipped it in the ink. 
 
 Comprehending the mute hint, his little visitor 
 ceased talking, and presently slipped quietly out 
 of the room. Again alone, Mr. Surrey laid down 
 
260 THE GILBERTS 
 
 the pen, and gathering his papers together, 
 locked them in his desk, — then went again to 
 the window, and opening it, leaned forward to 
 inhale the fragrance which rose from the quiet 
 flower-garden beneath. The cool odorous air 
 brought gracious refreshment to him as, pushing 
 the heavy hair from his forehead, the light wind 
 freely blew on it, and he gradually lost the sense 
 of oppression under which he had suffered during 
 the last hour or two. 
 
 There were still some bright streaks in the 
 sky, and observing them, he determined to go at 
 once on a walk to the common, where he would 
 be able fully to enjoy the lingering light; and 
 taking his hat, he sallied forth on his solitary 
 ramble. Before he had concluded it the crescent 
 moon shone forth, and a few glittering stars had 
 one by one become visible, but so abstracted was 
 his meditation that he had scarcely noted the 
 soft transition of light He had been mechani- 
 cally pacing to and fro a portion of the lonely 
 common, and thus, perhaps, for another hour he 
 would have continued to pace it, had not the 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 261 
 
 train of thought into which he had fallen led 
 him at last to exclaim mentally, " After all, 
 friendship is better than love ! " And at this 
 conclusion his steps instinctively turned towards 
 the Briars. He was soon at the well-known 
 door — soon within the quiet painting-room, in 
 familiar conversation with the gentle artist with 
 a soothing sense of reconcilement to the course 
 of events stealing into his mind. After some 
 other discourse they had been talking of a new 
 literary work, ^' I shall have it sent to me in a 
 few days and 1 will bring it to you on my re- 
 turn to AYoodridge," said Mr. Surrey. "To- 
 morrow, I purpose starting on a visit to an old 
 friend of mine, with whom I shall probably 
 spend a week or ten days." 
 
 " Is not this a sudden resolve of yours?" en- 
 quired Miss Dale. 
 
 " I am under a promise to make the visit be- 
 fore leaving this part of the country; and I may 
 as well go now as later." 
 
 " I am surprised the girls did not tell me of 
 your intended departure when I saw them this 
 
262 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Tliey know nothing of it; I have not even 
 mentioned it to them yet. In fact, I have only 
 resolved on it during my walk this evening." 
 
 "I think they will be disappointed at your 
 leaving them just as their gay visitor, Mrs. 
 Duckenfield, arrives." 
 
 '' Xot at all. They will do much better with- 
 out me; and they have another visitor now. 
 There was an arrival this afternoon, and a very 
 interesting one, I suspect, to one, at least, of the 
 family." 
 
 " Indeed ! Is Charles Randall come?" 
 
 " He is," answered Mr. Surrey, opening a 
 portfolio, and bending over it. " What a fine 
 head in crayons you have here," said he pre- 
 sently, taking up one of the drawings and looking 
 ac it attentively; "I was not aware of your ex- 
 cellence in this style; this is quite new to me." 
 
 Miss Dale was observing his countenance, and 
 continued silent. 
 
 "And here is one equally good," said he, taking 
 up another of the drawings. " Ah ! I recognize 
 a portrait here: you have succeeded admirably; 
 it is very striking." 
 
AND THEfR GUESTS. 263 
 
 "I think it is a good likeness," she answered, 
 *'and yet I am hardly satisfied with it. The 
 features T know are correct, and the expression 
 of the countenance is tolerably well caught, but 
 it has less beauty than the original, perhaps partly 
 on account of the absence of all warmth of colour- 
 ing ; for Emily's fine bloom certainly contributes 
 greatly to her loveliness." 
 
 " Undoubtedly it does," he replied. 
 
 " Her whole appearance denotes the harmony 
 of health," continued Miss Dale ; " every look, 
 every movement manifests it, and in this alone 
 what a living charm lies ! " 
 
 " Yes," he responded ; " throughout her being 
 there is a concord that is very delightful; mind 
 and matter in perfect unison, both alike fresh, 
 vivacious, and joyous." 
 
 " There can hardly be a stronger contrast be- 
 tween any two natures than exists between 
 hers and her old friend and playfellow's," said 
 Miss Dale. 
 
 " You refer to Mr. Randall, of course," ob- 
 served Mr. Surrey, still bending over the port- 
 
264 THE GILBERTS 
 
 folio, and seemingly occupied with the inspection 
 of its contents. 
 
 " I do," she answered; "and a very remarkable 
 person he is, taking into consideration the cir- 
 cumstances of his life. His parents are common 
 place people as possible ; his education was 
 meagre; and entering the navy at an early age, 
 the greater part of his life has been spent on ship 
 board, where one would suppose he must have 
 been thrown chiefly in the society of the unstu- 
 dious and thoughtless; and yet it is impossible 
 to spend an hour in his company without dis- 
 covering that his mind is cultivated and refined 
 in no ordinary degree ; that his moral perception 
 is keen, and his sensibility excessive. There is 
 something even in his appearance, I think, indi- 
 cative of all this, something spiritual pervading 
 it, investing it with delicate grace, altogether 
 setting at nought one's preconceived idea of a 
 young sailor." 
 
 " His appearance is exactly such as you de- 
 scribe. I was myself struck by it," said Mr. Surrey, 
 " and for the moment I saw him, it was, per- 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 265 
 
 haps, the more remarkable, for he was then ob- 
 viously under the influence of powerful emotion. 
 
 " Do you think his affection is reciprocated?" 
 she enquired in a somewhat hesitating tone. 
 
 ''I do." 
 
 Miss Dale glanced furtively towards Mr. 
 Surrey as he gave this reply, but his counte- 
 nance was completely concealed by his manner 
 of holding before him one of her drawings as if 
 for critical examination. In a little while, how- 
 ever, he laid it down without making any remark 
 on it. There was a long pause in their con- 
 versation. Miss Dale occupied herself in slowly 
 sorting, from a miscellaneous heap before her, 
 blank paper suitable for her sketch book, and 
 Mr. Surrey, with his elbow on the table, leaned 
 his head on his hand, and fell into the thoughtful 
 mood so common to him. There was, however, 
 nothing remarkable in this taciturnity; thus the 
 two friends often sat together, seemingly without 
 any interchange of ideas, yet each in some 
 measure conscious of the subject of thought of 
 the other; and both perfectly content with this 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE GILBERTS 
 
 mute companionship. By and bye, however, 
 Mr. Surrey's abstracted mood passed and he 
 turned again to the portfolio. 
 
 " You have something of everything here I 
 find," said he; " the pen seems to have been no 
 less busy than the pencil. I like some of these 
 critical notes that you have made, they are very 
 good." 
 
 " A little employment of that kind serves 
 to vary my occupation, and therefore has its use 
 to me," answered Miss Dale. 
 
 " But its use should not be confined to your- 
 self; you should let others benefit by your 
 observations. Your remarks are just and given 
 in an admirably lucid style. Should the artist 
 fail in the reward she deserves, she must turn to 
 literary criticism ; there I prophecy her success 
 would be complete. But what have we here?" 
 he continued, taking up a small scrap of writing ; 
 '' here is something in the form of verse, and 
 bearing your own signature too. May I read it? " 
 
 " If you can do so, certainly ; but I fancy it 
 is one of my almost illegible productions." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 267 
 
 '' No such thing, I can read it perfectly well, 
 and it is admirable." 
 
 " I don't at all know what it is that you are 
 commending." 
 
 *' Listen then," and he read aloud — 
 
 " Why murmur we — why mouru — why fear 
 Because it is not ours to know, 
 In the mixed light and darkness here, 
 Whence come we — whither do we go ? 
 
 " It is enough to know we are, 
 The origin, the end unseen : 
 Lo! poised in space is yonder star, 
 Untremulous, secure, serene." 
 
 You must not allow your very orthodox 
 friends to have a sight of these verses, excellent 
 as in my opinion they are. Lock them in your 
 desk. You are not half careful enough. Why 
 run the risk of being tabooed by your matter-of- 
 fact neighbours?" 
 
 " My being known as the writer of those lines 
 could scarcely bring about such a catastrophe as 
 that." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, it would be very likely 
 to do so; they might be considered to savour of 
 sceptical philosophy; and although now the 
 N 2 
 
268 THE GILBERTS 
 
 spirit of inquiry is bolder than ever, on the other 
 hand the orthodox get more sensitive than ever 
 to the least deviation from orthodoxy. Take 
 my advice, go your own way, but keep your own 
 counsel." 
 
 ** What you call my own way is a way into 
 which you first led me," said Miss Dale. 
 
 " That may be, but to you, who are a thinking 
 person, the subjects you have been lately revolv- 
 ing in your mind, the very spirit of the age 
 would have brought before you through some 
 other channel, if no such person as I had been in 
 existence," returned Mr. Surrey. 
 
 ''That is possible; yet, if indeed no such per- 
 son as you had been in existence, how different 
 in a hundred ways would have been my present 
 state." 
 
 " Indeed ? " 
 
 '' Yes, I should not have fallen into this re- 
 cluse life : I should have been restless — unsatis- 
 fied — seeking varied companionship. Friendly 
 communion with you has sufficed for the measure 
 of enjoyment that I ever covet from society ; and 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 269 
 
 undei your influence my tone of mind has gra- 
 dually risen — I am become wiser and stronger 
 through my intercourse with you." 
 
 '' You are kind so to think," said Mr. Surrey, 
 "but you will become wiser and stronger yet, 
 through the due exercise of your mental faculties. 
 Any little benefit you have reaped from me has 
 been simply this — the suggestion of higher to- 
 pics of thought than are commonly discussed in 
 promiscuous company; and this has been repaid 
 a hundred fold in the enjoyment that your society 
 has afforded me." 
 
 "For my own part I rejoice unfeignedly in 
 the accident that brought us acquainted," said 
 Miss Dale ; '^ but we are too good friends to be 
 bandying compliments with one another — and I 
 am wanting to know something of this visit 
 that you are about to make — Who is the friend 
 you are going to see ? " 
 
 " He is an old fellow student of mine, — Sir 
 James Dalton." 
 
 "His name is quite familiar to me; Broad- 
 leaze, his fine estate, I know lies in this county." 
 
270 THE GILBERTS 
 
 '' It does, and he has not long succeeded to 
 it." 
 
 "Is he a family man?" 
 
 " He has been married two or three years and 
 has one child. His wife is, I understand, a very 
 accomplished and delightful person, but I have 
 never seen her yet." 
 
 " When you come back from this visit the 
 tone of our society here will strike you as very 
 inferior," said Miss Dale. 
 
 '^ As you are aware, beyond my own friends I 
 know scarcely anyone here/' answered Mr. 
 Surrey ; " and in the family of the unsuccessful 
 solicitor of an obscure country town one does 
 not expect to find the accomplishments and 
 elegancies of refined life; but where the nature 
 is fine, a little outward polish may well be dis- 
 pensed with, and in fact a deficiency of this sort 
 is not unapt to give the charm of piquancy to a 
 certain order of attractive qualities. T have 
 not the slightest apprehension that on my return 
 my admiration of true womanly graces will 
 cease to be called into exercise." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 271 
 
 '' And there will be one at least of your party 
 who will not fail to make a very decided claim 
 on it; Mrs. Duckenfield will not be satisfied 
 without engrossing the chief share of your at- 
 tention." 
 
 "1 suspect you will find yourself mistaken; 
 she will hardly think it worth while to gain 
 anything so utterly valueless as my attention." 
 
 "Well, well, we shall see; but rely on it I am 
 right." 
 
 " In idle speculations of this sort, you, so 
 superior in many respects, are absolutely not 
 above the very weakest of your sex; I have, be- 
 fore now, had occasion to notice this." 
 
 " It is a feminine propensity, I suppose." 
 
 " It is, at all events, a very foolish and 
 dangerous one," rejoined Mr. Surrey. 
 
 " What hard terms you use," said Miss Dale. 
 
 " Not at all harder than the subject demands. 
 Half the little kindnesses and amenities of social 
 life may be destroyed by the indulgence of this 
 nonsensical habit." 
 
 *' I very humbly confess my fault." 
 
272 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Confession without amendment will not con- 
 tent me. Do for the future ahstain from this 
 absurd trifling, it is quite beneath you.'* 
 
 ^' I will, indeed I will." 
 
 " You are a good creature," said Mr. Surrey, 
 rising and holding out his hand, " farewell." 
 
 '' ISTay, I shall not allow you to take your de- 
 parturejust yet," answered Miss Dale, " and here, 
 you see, is your prison fare," she added as Dinah 
 entered and placed on the table some hard plain 
 biscuits and a glass jug of water. 
 
 " A temptation which I cannot resist," said 
 Mr. Surrey, re-seating himself and beginning an 
 attack on the biscuits," but you must keep me in 
 countenance." 
 
 '' Oh, to be sure, we will enjoy this luxurious 
 banquet together." 
 
 "I hope you will treat me as well on my return ; 
 I shall pay you a visit directly I come back. 
 And now good bye. I shall start to-morrow, 
 and very early too ; I shall be off in the morning 
 by the seven o'clock train." 
 
 "What, before breakfast?" 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 273 
 
 ^' Yes, and now I think of that, I shall steal a 
 couple of these incomparable biscuits to sustain 
 me on the way. And now I really must say 
 adieu in good earnest, or I shall be locked out at 
 home." 
 
 " Don't forget your promise of coming to see 
 me on your return ! " 
 
 " Could I possibly forget it?" 
 
 N 5 
 
2T4 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER X\^. 
 
 It was towards evening of the following day when 
 Mr. Surrey approached Broadleaze; for though he 
 had started at an early hour of the morning, he 
 had stopped midway on his journey, and attracted 
 by the beauty of the country in the vicinity of 
 the hotel at which he breakfasted, had devoted a 
 great portion of the afternoon to exploring it; 
 afterwards proceeding by a later train to a rail- 
 way terminus, distant only about a couple of 
 miles from one of the lodge gates of Sir James 
 Dalton's park. Before leaving the Gilbert's he 
 had taken care to place a note, addressed to his 
 cousin^ on the breakfast-table at which the family 
 had not yet assembled ; stating that the extreme 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 275 
 
 fineness of the weather, which could scarcely be ex- 
 pected to be of long continuance, had induced him 
 to take advantage of it, by setting off that very 
 morning on a visit to a friend residing in a dis- 
 tant part of the county, but that it was his in- 
 tention to return in the course of the following 
 week. He conjectured the exclamations of sur- 
 prise which this announcement would call forth, 
 but trusted the curiosity which his unexpected 
 departure might occasion, would subside before 
 his return. 
 
 Arrived at his friend's mansion, he was 
 eagerly welcomed by Sir James Dalton, who 
 received him with the frank ordiality he had so 
 often experienced from him, when years before 
 they had been students together at a Scotch 
 university; and, the first dinner-bell having 
 sounded, forthwith installed hira in a pleasant 
 suite of rooms commanding an extensive pros- 
 pect. On his return to the drawing-room, he 
 was presented by Sir James to Lady Dalton, who 
 rose somewhat languidly from the sofa, on which 
 she was half reclining, and then silently resumed 
 
276 THE GILBERTS 
 
 her place, bending her eyes on an open book that 
 lay before her, and for the few minutes that in- 
 tervened before the announcement of dinner, 
 maintaining an unbroken silence. Mr. Surrey 
 felt a momentary mortification at the careless 
 reception vouchsafed him by the wife of his 
 friend, but when presently afterwards, in obe- 
 dience to a hint from Sir James, he stepped for- 
 Avard to offer to conduct Lady Dalton to the 
 dining room, as she bowed her assent and rose to 
 accompany him, he was struck by the pale refined 
 cast of her countenance, and the extreme grace 
 of her figure; and in his spontaneous admiration 
 of her beauty his slight cause of annoyance was 
 speedily forgotten. 
 
 In the conversation during dinner Lady 
 Dalton took small part, but the little she did 
 say, evinced delicacy and cultivation of mind, 
 and the deference she manifested for the opinions 
 expressed by her husband on various interesting 
 subjects that chanced to fall under discussion, 
 appeared no less genuine than graceful. It was, 
 however, only on the approach of her child, a 
 
AN!) THEIR GUESTS. 277 
 
 loyely little girl about three years of age, who 
 made her appearance when the dessert was placed 
 on the table, that she warmed into animation; 
 then tlie calm eyes shone, and on the clear pale 
 clieek there stole the faintest tinge of the blush 
 rose, while words of tenderest endearment came 
 softly from her lips. The child clung about her 
 in infiintine fondness, but at a whispered word 
 unclasped her little arms from around her 
 mother's neck, and gently approaching her 
 father climbed silently on his knee, where she 
 sat grave and still in childish dignity ; while he, 
 without pausing in the conversation he was en- 
 gaged in, fondly stroked her sunny hair; Lady 
 Dalton bending on both looks of fondest love. 
 It was a delightful picture^ Mr. Surrey thought, 
 and a philosophical axiom with which he was 
 about to refute an argument of Sir James's 
 passed out of his memory as he contemplated it. 
 The close of the evening was devoted to 
 music; Lady Dalton sang, and her soul seemed 
 to pass into her song. Mr. Surrey listened 
 entranced, he could scarcely believe that the 
 
278 THE GILBERTS 
 
 incomparable songstress was the cold, calm 
 woman whose reception had chilled him. When 
 he had retired for the night, before sleep over- 
 took him, he found himself studying this, to him 
 new phase of feminine character; and in his 
 dream the song, for which he had not found 
 words to express his admiration, was repeated. 
 
 Very early on the following morning, Surrey 
 was rambling in the park, exploring its most 
 sequestered paths, looking into the newly opened 
 leaves with philosophic eye, and revolving in 
 his mind certain theories of the process of vege- 
 table life. If other thought sometimes intruded, 
 — thought that cast a passing shade of gloom 
 over his countenance, it was soon resolutely 
 expelled, and he was again absorbed in his 
 abstractions, conscious of no other life than the 
 life around him, which each moment of the 
 freshly arrived spring quickened into more per- 
 fect beauty. What harmony of colouring lay 
 on every side, — what golden gleams stole in, 
 amid the varied tints of tender green ! What 
 music was in the air, what thrilling rapture in 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 279 
 
 the notes, so wondrously sustained, that seemed 
 poured out of yon fleecy cloud of light, but 
 beneath which the strained vision could just 
 perceive a small dark speck, not immoveable; 
 and now a louder burst of melodious ecstacy, and 
 nearer, — nearer still, — a sudden pause; — joy 
 drops silent on the earth. 
 
 The breakfast hour at Broadleaze was a late 
 one, and notwithstanding his protracted stroll, 
 Mr. Surrey on his return to the house found that 
 he had not overstayed it. Lady Dalton had but 
 just made her appearance as he entered the plea- 
 sant breakfast room, whose spacious window, open- 
 ing on a parterre of rare flowers, admitted both 
 the fragrant air and the warmth of the gay sun- 
 shine. 
 
 Sir James was occupied with his little daugh- 
 ter, telling her the name and something of the 
 nature of a flower she had just gathered from the 
 garden, looking down on her with grave tender- 
 ness, and conveying his interesting instruction 
 in words adapted to the comprehension of her in- 
 fantine mind; while she with her fair, soft face 
 
280 THE GILBERTS 
 
 upraised, fixed her large wondering eyes on his 
 in mute attention to the mysteries he was re- 
 vealing. 
 
 The entrance of Mr. Surrey caused no inter- 
 ruption, Sir James concluded his simple lecture, 
 and bestowed a fond kiss on his little pupil, 
 before he rose to give the salutation of the morn- 
 ing to his friend; and Lady Dalton, after a slight 
 but graceful greeting, sat quietly presiding at 
 the breakfast table. Her style of beauty ap- 
 peared now even more striking than it had done 
 the evening before, her calm, pale face, and 
 smooth, broad forehead looking clear and serene 
 as marble in the sunny daylight. 
 
 But if, from time to time, as her little daughter 
 came prattling beside her, her countenance had 
 not brightened into a smile of ineffable love, Mr. 
 Surrey might have conjectured that the extreme 
 placidity of its habitual expression betokened 
 coldness of nature; now, however, he could 
 divine the tender feelings that lay too deep to 
 trouble the surface of her beauty, and believe in 
 the felicity of his friend. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 281 
 
 He was well aware that Sir James Dalton, as 
 he knew him of old, was of a singularly susceptible 
 and sensitive temperament, and painfully diffident 
 of his power of inspiring affection. A slightly 
 deformed person, the result of a spinal malady in 
 early childhood, perhaps contributed largely to 
 this somewhat morbid state of feeling; in other 
 respects he had a finely-tcned mind that was 
 richly cultivated, and stored with varied know^- 
 ledge. Ills countenance might have been con- 
 sidered a rare type of manly beauty, but for a 
 certain incongruity of its proportions. The fea- 
 tures taken separately were perfect, but in their 
 combination the effect produced was unharmo- 
 nious. This defect, so frequently the accompani- 
 ment of deformity of figure, was, however, greatly 
 redeemed by the intellectual cast of the expres- 
 sion of countenance, and also by an occasional 
 smile of rare sweetness. 
 
 That Lady Dalton, somewhat haughty, the 
 grand-daughter of a peer, and richly endowed 
 vrith wealth as well as beauty, should find satis- 
 faction in the alliance she had formed, was 
 
282 THE GILBERTS 
 
 doubted by many; while the few who had suffi- 
 cient discrimination to penetrate beyond the sur- 
 face of her character, detected her fond pride 
 in the fine intellect of her husband, and the 
 tender attachment which made sacred her union 
 with him. But so undemonstrative was her na- 
 ture, that the casual observer might be pardoned 
 for conjecturing that she was deficient in the sen- 
 timent of afiection, and for attributing the en- 
 dearments she lavished on her child to the mere 
 prompting of maternal instinct. 
 
 Sir James Dalton's marriage had not weaned 
 him from the pursuit of knowledge, but rather 
 had given new zest to it. In his beautiful and 
 accomplished wife he found, if not a companion 
 in his more abstruse studies, at least a partici- 
 pator of his highest aspirations, and a reverential 
 pupil of the philosophy which he was gradually 
 unfolding to her. With the humility of a little 
 child she sat at his feet and received instruction. 
 Dwelling chiefly in the retirement of domestic 
 life, the ceaseless din of the throng of fashion 
 reached them only from a distance, and caused 
 
W^kbTii^i^^^^- 
 
 AND THEIR GUESTS. 283 
 
 no disturbance to the quiet tenor of their daily- 
 course. At rare intervals, for a short season, 
 they took their place in the gay world, but 
 always returned with renewed satisfaction to the 
 peaceful shades of their own secluded and beau- 
 tiful domain. 
 
 Mr. Surrey enjoyed to the full the refinement 
 and serenity of the intellectual atmosphere 
 which he here breathed. No jarring interests, 
 no petty cares obtruded, no timid considerations 
 held in check the calm advance towards the at- 
 tainment of truth. There was no canvassing of 
 conflicting creeds, no condemnation of nation, or 
 individual, for matter of religious faith. A 
 broader view was taken; mankind was seen 
 struggling forward through countless dim and 
 intricate paths toward one point — liglit. 
 
 Many and various were the philosophical dis- 
 cussions between the old fellow students. If 
 their views were not always accordant, each held 
 in respect the opinion of the other, and not un- 
 frequently found in it occasion for further re- 
 flection and research, and through all the excite- 
 
284 THE GILBERTS 
 
 ment of argument, the perfect amity of their 
 intellectual intercourse was preserved inviolate. 
 
 But the conversation of the two friends was 
 not always of philosophy; they recurred often 
 to the time they had spent together of old; to 
 many an amusing incident of their college life, 
 to pedestrian tours enjoyed together during the 
 long vacation, to more than one romantic ex- 
 ploit they had shared, and peril which they had 
 encountered. To these, and a hundred other 
 circumstances, calling up a host of pleasant 
 memories, did they frequently refer. 
 
 Sometimes their reminiscences led them into 
 discourse of deeper and painful interest. Each 
 had in his early manhood loved, and loved in- 
 tensely; each had lost the object of his love; 
 and each had confided to the other the unhappy 
 fact of his bereavement. Long years ago Sir 
 James Dalton had led his friend Surrey to a 
 village churchyard, and there, in all the aban- 
 donment of youthful sorrow, had cast himself 
 on a humble grave, the grave of his secretly 
 affianced wife. And long years ago, in a crowded 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 285 
 
 ball-room, had William Surrey, with ill-concealed 
 anguish, pointed out to his sympathising com- 
 panion, the dark-eyed, slender girl leaning on tlje 
 arm of a mature and languid man of fashion, 
 for whom he, the young and earnest lover, had 
 been capriciously abandoned. 
 
 Melancholy recollections, hov/ever, were rare, 
 and only on one occasion did Sir James Dalton 
 allude to this passage of his friend's life, and 
 under the impression that this cruel disappoint- 
 ment was even now the latent cause of Surrey's 
 solitary position. 
 
 But Surrey evaded the suggestion. 
 
 " I can blame no one but myself," he answered. 
 " When not absorbed in literary pursuits I have, 
 for many years past, led but a vagrant sort of 
 life, affording little time or opportunity for the 
 growth of those affections which could alone lead 
 me to wish for marriage. And had it been 
 otherwise, had I sought it, it is very probable 
 that my inclination, wherever directed, would 
 have met with no favorable response." 
 
 ^^ You must allow me to differ from you there," 
 
286 THE GILBERTS 
 
 said Sir James, "and now take my advice; give 
 up this wandering, solitary life, and take to your- 
 self a wise and tender companion." 
 
 "My dear Dalton, you forget tliat I am a 
 monk of the order of poverty." 
 
 ''I do not despair of you for all that; you will 
 get a dispensation one of these days." 
 
 '^From the Pope?" 
 
 " From the publisher ! " 
 
 '' Ah, well ! " cried Surrey, " I must at least 
 wait till then. I rejoice, my friend," said he 
 after a short pause, ^' to find you rich in domes- 
 tic happiness." 
 
 "No one is better aware than yourself," 
 answered Sir James, " how little I expected to 
 be so blessed. You know well that when one 
 humble heart was stilled in death, I thought I 
 had lost the only one that could ever love me." 
 
 " And you remember," said Surrey, " how 
 vainly I used to lecture you on your morbid hu- 
 mility." 
 
 " On what you were pleased to call such, I do,'' 
 replied Sir James. " But if I had not met with 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 287 
 
 one of a noble nature, one who discovering my 
 hidden secret and finding in her own breast its 
 response, could openly take to her heart the de- 
 formed student, and feel that by so doing she 
 in no way degraded herself, I should still have 
 been the unhappy recluse, fast bordering on 
 misanthropy, which I was when you last saw me." 
 
 " Lady Dalton has done wisely ; she has made 
 a noble choice," said his companion. 
 
 '' You little suspect, my friend Surrey, that 
 you were the occasion of bringing us together." 
 
 " You are quite incomprehensible." 
 
 " I will explain myself. Our mutual admira- 
 tion of a certain philosophical drama was our 
 first approach to sympathy, and the foundation 
 of an intimacy that gradually ripened into more 
 than friendship." Mr. Surrey smiled. 
 
 ^' You have given a value to that little work 
 which, otherwise, would be utterly worthless. 
 It has been allowed to die, its very name is for- 
 gotten." 
 
 *' It will have its resurrection with posterity," 
 said Sir James. 
 
288 THE GILBERTS 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Mr. Surrey liad not been many days at Broad- 
 leaze before he obtained the privilege of free access 
 to Lady Dalton's morning room. It was a charm- 
 ing apartment, simple in its appointments and 
 pervaded by a chaste style of elegance, harmoniz- 
 ing with the aspect of its graceful occupant, who, 
 devoting herself to the instruction and amuse- 
 ment of her child, or to her own pursuit of 
 knowledge or accomplishment, usually passed 
 there many of the hours which Sir James devoted 
 to severer studies in his library. 
 
 Scarcely a day passed that Mr. Surrey did not 
 avail himself of the permission he had received; 
 he was always welcomed by Lady Dalton with a 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 289 
 
 quiet smile^ while her little daughter would 
 steal softly to his knee, and lispingly plead for a 
 repetition of some enchanting fairy tale, invented 
 for her amusement : or if he fell into conversa- 
 tion with her mother would sit silently on his lap, 
 with her tiny fingers twining about his hand, 
 and sometimes looking up into liis face with a 
 sweet wonder at some pause in his fluent dis- 
 course, the sound of which seemed to fall plea- 
 santly on her ear, and to suffice for her tranquil 
 enjoyment. 
 
 In the soft pressure of those waxen fingers — 
 in the open gaze of those innocent eyes, he soon 
 found a strange charm, and he could imagine 
 that to bear the fond name of father miirht be 
 the highest felicity of man. What was there in 
 his own arid life that could be measured with a 
 joy so tender and so holy? A sigh of vain regret 
 alone answered the enquiry. 
 
 Among works of higher importance some of 
 the light literature of the day was always to be 
 found on Lady Dalton's reading table. She had 
 a keen sense of enjoyment in the perusal of the 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
290 THE GILBERTS 
 
 imaginative and well-constructed novel, where 
 neither nature nor art was outraged for the pur- 
 pose of enforcing theological dogma or moral 
 axiom. Any true picture of life, any delicate 
 touch of well directed satire, any shadowy form, 
 which the wand of genius only could evoke, had 
 for her infinite charm. For art's sake she valued 
 the work of art, and for art's sake she reverenced 
 the artist. 
 
 " I never close a book that has instructed, or 
 even simply interested me," said she one day to 
 Mr. Surrey, " without a feeling of lively grati- 
 tude towards the author; and more than this, 
 for the mental feast that has been afforded me, 
 I offer up a silent thanksgiving, no less devout 
 than that which I give for daily bread." 
 
 " You have a true appreciation of the value 
 of literature/' he answered. 
 
 "Is it not, indeed, of priceless worth! Even 
 from the miscellaneous heap of so-called light 
 literature now lying before me, can you draw 
 forth at random any one volume that is not in 
 itself a treasure ? Who can take up such a work 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 291 
 
 as this, for instance," continued Lady Dalton, 
 " this charming pastoral, ' Our Village,' without 
 feeling cheered and invigorated as with the 
 breeze and sunshine of spring." 
 
 " Your selection has fallen on a pearl of price," 
 cried Mr. Surrey. " Mary Russell Mitford is 
 unrivaled — applied to subjects simple as those 
 she lias made choice of; so pure — so graceful — 
 so racy a style as hers is not to be found." 
 
 And they proceeded to discuss other au- 
 thoresses of the day, and the increasing influence 
 of woman in literature. 
 
 " I imagine that you have a very high stan- 
 dard of female excellence," said Lady Dalton. 
 
 " Not so high that I do not see it frequently 
 reached : no true woman falls short of it." 
 
 "' May my little Lucy one day attain to it ! " 
 cried Lady Dalton, drawing fondly towards her 
 her little daughter, who had now deserted her 
 place on Mr. Surrey's knee to come and nestle 
 softly in her mother's arms. " May my little 
 Lucy be a true woman ! " 
 
 2 
 
292 THE GILBERTS 
 
 '' You could not breathe a wiser wish for her/* 
 said Sir James, who just then entered. 
 
 " Nor one more likely to be fulfilled, if from 
 the bud we may prophecy the blossom that shall 
 unfold," observed Surrey. 
 
 " I was just going to propose to you to come 
 and look at the buds and blossoms of the field. 
 It is a day of rare beauty. Come, Ellen, love, 
 let us take advantage of it to show our friend 
 Surrey, one of our favourite haunts." 
 
 '' Let us go to Horden Cliff, and take our little 
 Lucy, also," said Lady Dalton, "the drive will 
 not be too long for her, and while we are enjoy- 
 ing the fine prospect, she will greatly enjoy 
 running about in the breeze among the fresh 
 grass and flowers." 
 
 Half-an-hour later the whole party, seated in 
 an open carriage, were enjoying the delicious 
 breeze and sunshine, as emerging from the park 
 they swiftly passed over a broad, open road, on 
 eacli side of which lay an extensive heath. A 
 breath of the far distant sea mingling with the 
 fresh fragrance of the newly verdant earth gave 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 293 
 
 vigour to the air, enhancing the power of de- 
 light, and suggesting free and expansive thought. 
 There was little conversation carried on : Lady 
 Dalton fell into meditation, and the tair child 
 lay in her father's arms, murmuring a song of 
 her own that had no words, but was expressive 
 of the harmony that filled to overflowing her in- 
 fantine breast. Sometimes her large, clear eyes 
 sought those of her father's, which were ever 
 tenderly bent on hers, and sometimes the long- 
 fringed lids closed over them, but the song con- 
 tinued unbroken. The point of destination was 
 soon reached, and the whole party w^ere presently 
 enjoying themselves in a more animated manner, 
 walking briskly along the grassy level of the 
 high cliff, that, overlooking a wide extent of 
 country, and commanding also a view of the dis- 
 tant sea, was a favourite resort of the lovers of 
 fine prospect and fine air. But now, besides 
 their own, only one party was there, and 
 this consisted merely of some ladies, who were 
 slowly perambulating the cliff, with a little dog 
 frolicking before them, whose gambols appeared 
 
294 THE GILBERTS 
 
 to create much of the pleasure they were mani- 
 festly enjoying. Little Lucy, with her nurse in 
 attendance, running about on the fresh grass, 
 was soon joining in play with the pretty spaniel, 
 answering his sportive barks, as they raced to- 
 gether, with shouts of musical laughter. 
 
 Sir James and Lady Dalton, advancing to 
 the edge of the cliff, pointed out to Surrey va- 
 rious objects of interest in the wide-stretched 
 view before them. But he was soon satisfied 
 with observing these, and presently fixed his 
 attention on a small spot of the landscape that 
 had for him greater charm — it was only a little 
 verdant nook — a piece of sloping grass-land, 
 with here and there a cluster of trees upon it; 
 but lying there in deep peace, and chequered, 
 as it was, with sun and shade, it formed, he 
 thought, a charming scene, such a scene as a 
 painter would love to transfer to the canvass ; 
 and hereupon his thoughts reverted to the friend 
 whom he had so lately left in her quiet painting 
 room, and who, for the moment, he wished were 
 now beside him; — and was it improbable that, at 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 295 
 
 the same moment, and looking perhaps on a 
 somewhat similar scene, this gentle friend was 
 wishing for his companionship? Was there 
 indeed a latent sympathy ever drawing them, in 
 thought at least, together, whatever the distrac- 
 tions that might seem to divide them? Here 
 was a question of metaphysics, but he could not 
 answer it, and smiled secretly at the inefficacy 
 of his philosophy. Perhaps Lady Dalton suspected 
 that his attention had wandered from her con- 
 versation, for she suddenly ceased her description 
 of a portion of the landscape that lay half 
 hidden by the woods of their own domain, and 
 on the beauty of which she had been eloquently 
 descanting, and stood silently contemplative, 
 leaning on her husband's arm ; while Sir James 
 himself, by the aid of a pocket telescope, was 
 tracing along the horizon the course of a far-off 
 ship. But, abruptly and fearfully, they were all 
 startled out of their meditations. The voice of 
 little Lucy, which but the moment before had 
 been sounding from the grassy flat, on which, 
 under the care of the nurse, they had left her. 
 
296 THE GILBERTS 
 
 was now heard shrill and near, with the dog 
 barking in concert; and a few yards in advance 
 of the spot on which they stood, on a jutting 
 portion of the cliff overhanging a deep chasm, 
 they beheld the child, her light garments flutter- 
 ing in the wind., her hat blown back, and her 
 glossy hair and rosy face bathed in a flood of 
 sunshine, while with her little arms outstretched 
 in glee, and laughing and shouting at each peril- 
 ous step she took, she was sportively retreating 
 from the gambols of her playmate, the spaniel, 
 wlio was joyously leaping towards her, her tiny 
 steps approaching backward and unconsciously to- 
 wards the extreme edge of the precipice. — Thus, 
 for one agonizing moment they all saw her— the 
 next, the dog alone was there, motionless — 
 while a piercing cry ascending from the chasm, 
 as of a bird wounded in flight, was for an instant 
 heard — and then all Avas still. 
 
 Paralysed with horror, for a second the mother 
 stood with parted lips, from which there was no 
 power to send forth a cry, distended eye-balls, 
 and stiffened outstretched arms — but the 
 
AND TilEIR GUESTS. 297 
 
 paroxysm passed, and with a piercing shriek she 
 was darting forward, but Surrey with a rapid 
 movement placing himself before her, with a 
 strong grasp arrested her. '* Hold her back ! 
 Hold her back ! " he cried authoritatively, in a 
 voice that sounded strange even to himself, so 
 hoarse and strained it was, " Hold her back — or 
 you will lose them Ijoth ! " and Sir James, feel- 
 ing in despair that he was, tlirough physical 
 infirmity, utterly unable himself to attempt the 
 rescue of his child, cast his arms round the 
 struggling form of his wife and detained her, 
 while Surrey, springing forward with a strength 
 and agility which the exigency of the moment 
 supplied, was the next moment on the spot 
 whence the child had disappeared. 
 
 He endeavoured to gaze over the precipice, 
 but in the attempt became dizzy, tlie jagged earth 
 and fragments of stone swam before his eyes: he 
 felt his danger and the utter uselessness of thus 
 attempting to pursue his search ; and retreating 
 a few paces from the extreme edge of the cliff 
 cast himself, face downwards, at full length on 
 
 5 
 
298 THE GILBERTS 
 
 the earth, then drew himself forward till the 
 upper part of his body overhung the precipice, 
 enabling him to take a secure survey of what lay 
 beneath. But while thus preparing to gaze 
 downward, he felt the painful beating of his 
 heart, and for a moment his eyes involuntarily 
 closed; but resolutely conquering the weakness 
 he quickly rallied and cast an unshrinking glance 
 on the depth below. His sight was at once ar- 
 rested by a spectacle that filled his heart with 
 mingled joy and fear. He beheld the child 
 caught in the branches of a tree that sprang 
 midway out of the precipice : her cries had 
 ceased, and with mute terror she clung to the 
 knotted boughs overhanging the stony steep below, 
 whence no aid could come, for not a human being 
 was there. Her rescue then must be attempted 
 by himself alone; but so precipitous was the de- 
 scent, so frail the support offered to his grasp 
 in the rough brambles here and there growing 
 out of the cliff, that the enterprise, he at once 
 perceived, must be one of imminent danger. 
 But at all hazards the rescue must be attempted. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 299 
 
 Dexterously swinging himself over the edge of 
 the precipice, he at once commenced his perilous 
 undertaking. Almost at its outset it had nearly 
 proved fatal. The first bough at which he 
 caught broke as he grasped it, and the next 
 moment a rugged projection of the cliff, on which 
 he had attempted to find a stepping place, gave 
 way — he was on the verge of destruction, but 
 by a rapid manoeuvre saved himself by catch- 
 ing at the bushes for support, and let himself 
 down, from steep to steep, till he reached the tree 
 which still upheld the terrified child. Quickly 
 climbing it, he drew the little one into his arms, 
 who clung about his neck in a passion of half- 
 terrified, half -joyful weeping, and cautiously 
 descending the twisted branches, bore her in 
 safety to the rocky projection, from a cleft of 
 which the tree sprang. But with this precious 
 burthen, depriving him of the free use of his 
 hands, how would he be able to ascend the pre- 
 cipice? Suddenly there occurred to him the 
 idea of contriving, by some means, to bind the * 
 child to his shoulders. With the aid of little 
 
300 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Lucy's broad sash and his own silk handkerchief 
 he speedily succeeded in accomplishing his de- 
 sign, and had no great difficulty in reasoning his 
 little captive into a state of passive obedience. 
 With her tiny arms encircling his neck he began 
 to ascend the steep, from the summit of v\diich 
 the sound of shouts and piercing shrieks now 
 distinctly reached him : he would at once have 
 answered these cries with the joyful announce- 
 ment of '' All's well," but his undertaking was 
 still full of peril — one false step would inevitably 
 precipitate him to the yawning bottom of the 
 cliff. 
 
 Fearful of inspiring false hope, in silence, 
 therefore, except for a word of encouragement or 
 endearment softly spoken to the little one, he 
 continued to clamber upwards. The weight of 
 the child was as nothing to him, but the close 
 twisting of her arms about his neck occasionally 
 caused, for a moment, a suffocating spasm in his 
 throat that was no little impediment to his 
 struggling efforts. She, herself, remained mute, 
 either from terror or the dim consciousness that 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 301 
 
 her cries would pain and eaibarrass her kind 
 bearer. At hist, the ascent, so full of toil and 
 hazard, was accomplished, and Surrey's head, 
 with the little one's nestling beside it on his 
 shoulder, projected above the edge of the cliff. 
 A shriek of wildest joy hailed this almost mira- 
 culous appearance; and Lady Dalton narrowly 
 escaped herself falling over the precipice, in her 
 eagerness to seize her rescued treasure; w^hile 
 Sir James, whose limbs trembled from the vio- 
 lence of his emotion, vainly endeavoured, with 
 outstretched hands, to assist Surrey's attempts 
 to gain the summit of the cliff: this final effort 
 v;as, however, presently successfully achieved, 
 and with his preciojs freight he once more stood 
 on the firm green sward. To release the little 
 captive from her bondage — to press her again 
 and again to their hearts-— was the first impulse 
 of the overjoyed parents; but when this irrepres- 
 sible emotion had somewhat spent itself, they 
 would have poured out their gratitude to the de- 
 liverer of their child, but words failed them : and 
 Surrey, in little less emotion himself, mutely 
 
302 THE GILBERTS 
 
 pressing their hands, turned away, desirous of 
 leaving them for a season to the undisturbed 
 enjoyment of their unspeakable happiness in the 
 recovery of their lost darling. As he was pas- 
 sing onwards, a woman, kneeling on the earth, 
 weeping and trembling, seized his hand ami 
 bathed it with her tears. It was the child's 
 nurse, through whose momentary inattention the 
 fearful accident had occurred. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 It was Ehoda's birthday, and Miss Dale held an 
 entertainment in honor of it. The principal 
 rooms of her modest abode, thrown open for the 
 occasion, wore a pleasant aspect as the guests 
 came trooping into them ; with the evening light 
 shining through the lightly-draperied windows 
 on the pictures, the books, the flowers that lay 
 carelessly scattered about, and illuminating a 
 profusely covered table, at which Dinah, in high 
 felicity, presided over a glittering tea equipage, 
 a vast pj'ramid of the finest strawberries, and a 
 curious variety of most delicate cakes of her 
 own confection. 
 
 Little Rhoda, the queen of the evening, with 
 
o04 THE GILBERTS 
 
 her eyes shining their brightest, and her glossy 
 brown curls half hiding her softly flushed 
 cheeks, looked quite charming in the pretty robe 
 of white muslin with violet coloured ribbons, in 
 which her sister Emily had delightedly arrayed 
 her. With her hand locked in Miss Dale's, she 
 blushingly received the congratulations that on 
 all sides were offered her, and notwithstanding 
 her timidity, responded to them with no little 
 grace. 
 
 A few months had wrought a striking change 
 in her. On her last birthday she had been re- 
 garded by ordinary observers as a plain, shy 
 child; she was now in the eyes of all a lovely 
 girl. Her ripening mind arriving at a new 
 epoch, illuminated and beautified the little form 
 that till then had, as it were, been dwelling in 
 obscurity, and made lambent its gentle graces. 
 
 '' Take care, my dear," said Mrs. Duckenfield, 
 the Gilberts' visitor, to Emily, " take care, or 
 that little sister of yours will very soon be in 
 your way. Only look at her now — see the side 
 glance of those soft eyes of hers. Can anything 
 
A^D THEIR GUESTS. 305 
 
 be more enticing? And now, as she laughs and 
 throws back her head, and shakes her pretty 
 curls, what a charming little coquette it is ! 
 And pray who may the demure looking gentle- 
 man be who is calling forth these attractions?" 
 
 '' Oh, don't mistake, my dear little sister's 
 pretty, artless ways," said Emily, deprecatingly. 
 ^' It is Doctor Bassett who is talking to her, and 
 I can see, at a glance that she is playfully parry- 
 ing some wdiimsical observation of his, he delights 
 to provoke her to an arch repartee." 
 
 " Mr. Surrey has done a world of mischief to 
 Ehoda,'* remarked Fanny, " making so much of 
 her, and bringing her so forward ; she was a mere 
 child in her ways when he came here a few 
 months ago." 
 
 •' And so she is now," said Emily; '' Mr. Sur- 
 rey would be the very last person to wish her to 
 be otherwise. He loves her very dearly, and the 
 wisdom she has learned from him will never make 
 her a precocious little woman, it is quite of 
 another sort." 
 
 '' I think it is almost time for jou to give up 
 
306 THE GILBERTS 
 
 taking Mr. Surrey's part on every occasion," ob- 
 served Fanny. 
 
 Emily blushed deeply. 
 
 "He needs no one to take his part, that I am 
 aware of," she said, " if he did need it, indeed, 
 such a time could never come to me." 
 
 " I suppose it is wise to have two strings to 
 one's bow, but for my part I don't admire such 
 an arrangement," said Fanny. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean something about friendship, and some- 
 thing about love." 
 
 " My dear Fan, how provoking you are !" 
 
 " Oh, it is very easy for you to exclaim in that 
 w^ay, but you can't contradict what I say; and 
 how you blush I" 
 
 " I know that I do — I feel it. Pray, pray Fanny, 
 say no more on this subject till we are alone 
 at least. Do let this evening be a happy one ! " 
 
 "Oh, with all my heart! " 
 
 " We must try to help Miss Dale in entertain- 
 ing her company," said Emily, turning towards 
 a table and opening a portfolio that lay on it. 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 307 
 
 "Here are some beautiful engravings, look, Mrs. 
 Duckenfield ; is not this ' Kentish Peasant ' like 
 our dear Edmund?" 
 
 "Wonderfully ! only not half handsome enough. 
 What eyes he had, Emily ! I declare I have 
 never seen such bright glances as his. How in 
 the world could you let such a fine creature as 
 he go to such an out-of-the-way place as New 
 Zealand ! " 
 
 Emily made no answer, shading her eyes with 
 her hand, she bent silently over the picture. 
 
 " What is it you are so intent on? " presently 
 said a voice close to her ear. 
 
 "Look! ' 
 
 " Well, I can see nothing worth looking at." 
 
 " Oh, Doctor Bassett ! " 
 
 " While there are living faces to contemplate 
 I would not give a button for the finest portrait 
 you could show me; and as for your painted 
 landscapes, a patch of turf in a blackbird's cage, 
 and a green bough in a flower -pot, tell me more 
 about nature than all that the highest art has 
 been able to produce.'* 
 
308 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Fortunately, on this subject, there are not 
 many who think as you do." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, very many are of my 
 opinion, but have not the honesty to acknowledge 
 it." 
 
 " Do you let Miss Dale know the low estima- 
 tion in which you hold her favourite art? " 
 
 " To be sure I do : and this reminds me that 
 I am deputed by her to escort you ladies to the 
 strawberry feast." 
 
 ''You must take charge of my cousin, ^Irs. 
 Duckenfield, if you please then. Doctor Bassett; 
 if she can venture to place herself under the 
 charge of such a barbarian as you have pro- 
 nounced yourself to be." 
 
 " She will find me a harmless sort of savage," 
 said the Doctor, offering his arm to the lady, " I 
 shall not carry off her scalp as a trophy of 
 victory." 
 
 " Oh, what a horrid idea! " cried Mrs. Duck- 
 enfield, with a little scream of affected alarm. 
 
 " Somewhat professional, I think, " said 
 Fanny. 
 
AND THEIH GUESTS. 309 
 
 " No such thing, I beg to remind you that I 
 have nothing to do with the surgeon's knife." 
 
 " Oh, worse and worse ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Duckenfield. " How can you talk of such a 
 horror? " 
 
 " My dear lady, I carry about with me an 
 instrument of torture that is no less potent;" 
 and he drew from his pocket a long used steel 
 pen. 
 
 " Ah ! I begin to think that you are alto- 
 gether a very alarming sort of person; and I 
 declare I am afraid to trust myself to you," said 
 Mrs. Duckenfield, affectedly dropping his arm. 
 
 "You could not have arrived at a wiser con- 
 clusion," said Doctor Basse tt, turning away from 
 her abruptly, and approaching Emily, whose hand 
 he unceremoniously seized, and tucking it under 
 his arm led the way with her to the tea-room. 
 
 " What an uncivilized being he is !" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Duckenfield, with a frown of genuine dis- 
 pleasure, as taking Fanny's arm she slowly fol- 
 lowed them. 
 
 The tea table was already thronged, although 
 
310 THE GILBERTS 
 
 some of the later guests had not yet approached 
 it. The finest strawberries with the freshest 
 cream were profusely served forth, and Dinah's 
 tea was excellent. The cool evening air stole 
 in refreshingly at the open window, and all seemed 
 to enjoy the simple banquet and the social plea- 
 sure of which they were partaking. 
 
 "How nice Dinah looks j — how fresh and 
 happy!" said Euiily. 
 
 "Yes; she is a fine creature; a woman^''^ an- 
 swered Doctor Bassett, " worth a hundred of 
 your young ladies^ who, with a few exceptions, 
 of which, by the way, you are one, are synony- 
 mous with the silk gowns they wear; not an 
 iota more valuable or more interesting." 
 " Well, they are ornamental at all events." 
 " Not at all in the eyes of rational beings." 
 "What would you have them do?" 
 " Scrub the floor, clean the grates. If they 
 are without brains, they have at least hands and 
 arms, and would be all the better for using them." 
 " I don't see why you should inflict on them 
 such exceedingly coarse occupations." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 311 
 
 "It is all they are fit for; and it is what 
 creatures far superior to them do cheerfully." 
 
 '' You don't mean to say that a housemaid, 
 merely because she is a housemaid, is superior 
 to a lady ?" 
 
 *' I mean to say that a human being, let his 
 or her condition in life be what it may, who 
 contributes even in the lowest degree to the 
 order and comfort of civilized society^^ is 
 superior a hundred fold to the mere idle con- 
 sumer of the labour of others." 
 
 '' I quite agree with you there; but happily I 
 don't know one complete idler; every body 
 seems to me to be doing something or other, 
 and something that in one way or another is 
 useful." 
 
 "You don't see clearly; your eyes are dazzled 
 with sunshine, young lady." 
 
 " I daresay I am not a very profound observer." 
 
 " Well, such as you are, you do pretty well ; 
 we can't afford to lose you. What is this story 
 that I hear about your being likely to run away 
 from us?" 
 
312 THE GILBERTS 
 
 Emily's clear cheek crimsoned, but she made 
 no answer. 
 
 " I must have it explained to me," persisted 
 Doctor Bassett; "are you going to entangle 
 yourself in that miserable noose of matrimony? 
 Is this your notion of making yourself useful? 
 Are you going to escape entirely out of my 
 jurisdiction?" he added in a more softened tone. 
 
 "v-Not yet; not for a long while." 
 
 "Young ladies are such extraordinary com- 
 puters of time, that I should like to hear what 
 you call ' a long while.' " 
 
 " An indefinite time, perhaps," replied Emily, 
 smiling, and partially recovering from her con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Oh I that is to say, we may perhaps keep 
 you amongst us for the next week only, or per- 
 haps for the next twenty years." 
 
 " I do think you could very well spare me." 
 
 " No fibbing, if you please, young lady. You 
 do not think any such thing." 
 
 " Well, I am going to try you at all events. 
 I am going away to-morrow for a few weeks' visit." 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 313 
 
 *' That is very considerate on your part; it is 
 by way of breaking us in gently to bear with 
 resignation losing you altogether." 
 
 " Ah ! you are very, very hard upon me." 
 
 " Well, well, you are a good girl. Good bye, 
 God bless you!" 
 
 "You are not going away yet, Doctor Bas- 
 sett ?" 
 
 " Do you think I have nothing better to do 
 than to waste my time with all you idle people 
 here ?" 
 
 " Oh! but do stay a little while longer? You 
 have not half made acquaintance with Mrs. 
 Duckenfield yet." 
 
 " I have made quite enough of it, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " You would find her very pleasant. And is 
 not she nice looking?" 
 
 " Nice looking, indeed! Where is her mind? 
 She is no better than a white plump pullet.'' 
 
 " Hush, hush ! she will surely hear you." 
 
 " No such thing. Is not she listening, as if 
 he were an oracle, to that solemn puppy who is 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
814 THE GILBERTS 
 
 spoiling her strawberries Tvith the cream he is 
 pouring ever them — your discarded admirer, 
 Miss Emily?" 
 
 " Stay, stay, I cannot let you go away with 
 such a notion as that." 
 
 "What! you keep him dangling still, do you? 
 And pray how have you disposed of the man in 
 the clouds, the poet, the tragedy writer, who sets 
 our fanciful friend. Miss Dale, dreaming; and 
 plays too much upon your little sister Ehoda's 
 brain, I can tell you. You must take care of 
 that child — I don't half like her looks." 
 
 Emily turned to him in alarm. 
 
 "What do you mean. Dr. Bassett?" 
 
 "I mean just what I say; you must take care 
 of her. Lock up her books : let her run about 
 in the open air from morning till night if she 
 will. There is a lustre in her eyes that I don't 
 like." 
 
 "Oh, Doctor Bassett ! what is it you fear for her?" 
 
 " Nothing at all if you do with her as I bid you.'' 
 
 " Are you quite sure?" 
 
 " What simpletons women are ! One can't 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 315 
 
 give a word of caution without frightening them 
 out of their senses." 
 
 "But tell me truly, is there do cause for 
 alarm?" 
 
 " Xone in the least, if you follow my advice; 
 and remember that prevention is better than cure." 
 
 "You will talk to mamma about it! " 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Gilbert is a sensible woman, and 
 will at once see the subject in its proper light 
 without letting her imagination run wild upon it." 
 
 " I think I had better give up this visit that 
 I was going to make." 
 
 " I think you had better do no such thing. / 
 will take good care that the books are put out 
 of sight. We shall have made a dunce of our 
 wise little woman by the time you come back." 
 
 Emily smiled through her tears; "Dear, kind 
 Doctor Bassett, what should we do without you?" 
 she said. 
 
 " Ah ! pretty puss! what are we to do by and 
 bye without you F" He shook hands and was 
 gone. 
 
 Emily rose and went towards the window; 
 p 2 
 
316 THE GILBERTS 
 
 leaning forward, she 1 ent over a white jasmine 
 that was growing there, and presently its starry 
 blossoms were wet with sparkling drops ; but the 
 evening dew was not yet falling. 
 
 There was the sound of a footstep slowly 
 advancing up the garden path. Hastily brush- 
 ing her hand across her eyes, Emily looked for- 
 ward, and her cheeks, which the moment before 
 had been paler than their wont, flushed at once 
 into bloom, '^ Oh Mr. Surrey, how glad I am ! " 
 
 " Steal away quietly and come and take a few 
 turns with me here," he said in a low voice and 
 looking up with the half sorrowful smile that 
 sometimes made his countenance so eloquent. 
 
 She was beside him in a moment. 
 
 "You have been at home, of course?" 
 
 "Yes; and finding you all out, have followed 
 you here as you see." 
 
 He returned the pressure of her friendly 
 hand, but quickly let it drop. 
 
 " We have missed you very much ! " 
 
 He looked into her eyes. 
 
 Emily blushed, " Yes, indeed we have ! And 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 31 7 
 
 I am so glad you are come this eveniug; if it 
 had been to-morrow I should have missed seeing 
 you." 
 
 " And what is to happen to-morrow then?" 
 
 " I am going with some friends to stay a little 
 while by the sea-side," she said, looking down, 
 and colouring deeply. 
 
 Mr. Surrey was silent. 
 
 " Mrs. Duckenfield is with us, as I suppose 
 you know," said Emily presently; "you will 
 find her very lively and entertaining." 
 
 " I am on the wing myself, I believe. I am 
 beginning to feel restless — -to see the lakes and 
 the mountains in my dreams." 
 
 " Oh, I do hope you will be here on my re- 
 turn." 
 
 "How long is it likely you will be absent?" 
 
 " Only a short time — only a very few weeks; 
 and I hardly like to go at all, for Doctor Bassett 
 has just said something that will make me very 
 anxious about home." 
 
 " Doctor Bassett ! I hope you are all quite 
 well." 
 
318 THE GILBERTS 
 
 " Indeed I thought so till a few minutes ago, 
 but he has made me very uneasy for Rhoda ; he 
 says we must be watchful of her. that we must 
 take care her brain is not over tasked, that we 
 must put books out of her way." 
 
 Mr. Surrey looked distressed. 
 
 " I confess I have lately been somewhat of the 
 same opinion," he said ; " you know that I put a 
 stop to the German lessons on the plea of my 
 own idleness, but the truth of the matter was I 
 feared my dear little pupil was doing too much 
 for her age and strength." 
 
 " And I know how you have encouraged her to 
 work in the garden, and how often you have 
 amused her with country rambles, and how play- 
 fully you have talked with her. I ought to have 
 told Doctor Bassett all this, for somehow or other 
 I believe he has the notion that you have been 
 exercising her brain over much; but really I 
 was so taken by surprise at the caution he gave, 
 that at the moment of his speaking to me I 
 could think only of my alarm." 
 
 " He did not tell you there is occasion for any 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 319 
 
 serious apprehension, I hope?" said Mr. Surrey 
 anxiously. 
 
 '' Oh, no ; on the contrary, he gave me his 
 assurance that all will be well if we follow his 
 advice regarding her." 
 
 '' I have not much respect for the opinions of 
 medical men in general, and I am enough of a 
 physiologist myself to be able to refute many of 
 their dogmas; but two or three instances that 
 have chanced to come before me lead me to 
 think favourably of Doctor Bassett's knowledge 
 and skill, and to feel confidence in his high in- 
 tegrity." 
 
 Emily's eves glistened. 
 
 " He has been our kindest and wisest coun- 
 sellor in many of our difficulties^ and in time of 
 sickness our only stay," she said; "and he will 
 not receive even our thanks in return; we can 
 only requite him by following his advice, * if we 
 think it worth having,' he says." 
 
 " In the present instance, at least, his injunc- 
 tions must be implicitly obeyed," said Mr. 
 Surrey; "I have myself noticed in Rhoda 
 
320 THE GILBERTS 
 
 symptoms of too great excitement following on 
 close mental application; there has been a 
 glitter of the eye that has often caught my 
 observation." 
 
 " Doctor Bassett has spoken of this very 
 thing." 
 
 " Well, we must indeed take all care of her ; 
 she must be let run wild in the fields as much as 
 she pleases, and at home have nothing in the 
 shape of literature, beyond an amusing story- 
 book placed within her reach." 
 
 " Dear child ! " cried Emily ; '' this is her 
 birthday." 
 
 " I know it is," said Mr. Surrey. 
 
 ''And kind Miss Dale is holding a festival in 
 honour of it," continued Emily; "you will find 
 quite a gay party assembled here. I have been 
 so sorry all day, thinking that you would be 
 absent from it, and you did not write a word to 
 us. A letter for you has, however, arrived this 
 morning; no, not a letter exactly, but a little 
 parcel by post, which I put on your writing table ; 
 have you seen it?" 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 321 
 
 "Yes, thank jou; it is all right. And now 
 I must not detain you longer, or they will be 
 wondering what has become of me: but I should 
 like to have Rhoda here for a little stroll; the 
 garden must be ten tiiiies cooler than the house, 
 it would do her good." 
 
 " I will send her to you directly. She will 
 be overjoyed to lind you are come back." 
 
 Emily proceeded towards the house, but she 
 stopped on the way, and stooping over the flower 
 border, gathered one or two white carnations, 
 then turning back for a moment she held them 
 towards Surrey, "Are they not sweet?" she 
 said. 
 
 He took them from her hand in silence, but 
 meeting his glance she blushed. 
 
 "We are all wearing flowers to-night," she 
 said presently, as once more she turned away 
 from him. 
 
 "Ah!" thought Surrey, as he pensively in- 
 haled the odour of the carnations; "she fears 
 lest I should misinterpret her simply gracious 
 act of the gifts of these flowers; but it is my 
 
322 THE GILBERTS 
 
 own fault. Why do I not keep better guard 
 over my feelings? I thought, too, I had con- 
 quered them, but now I see her again I find the 
 victory is but half achieved. This weakness 
 must be surmounted. Life is of higher purpose 
 than for even a fraction of it to be spent in emo- 
 tion that is unavailing. And what is it I regret? 
 Cannot I be satisfied that others obtain happi- 
 ness in the way which they seek? Have I not 
 my own sources of enjoyment of which no un- 
 toward circumstances can deprive me! This 
 sky, this earth, do they not unfold to me per- 
 petually a boundless field for contemplative de- 
 light? If social ties were mine, should I not 
 find in them, perhaps, fetters that would restrict 
 the excursive flight of thought, that would chafe 
 the perfect liberty of mind which hitherto I have 
 sought as my chief good? It is best as it is. 
 I am alone, and alone let me continue ! Let me 
 as of old throw myself completely upon nature. '^ 
 His meditation was interrupted ; a light step 
 had approached him unheard, and now a little 
 loving hand crept within his own. He locked it 
 
AND THEIR GUESTS. 323 
 
 very fondly in his grasp, aad stooping down 
 pressed his lips on the pure young brow that was 
 lifted towards him, and around which the evening 
 light played like a glory. 
 
 " My own pet !" 
 
 " How kind you have been to remember the 
 day. I thought you would come. I recol- 
 lected your promise to me long ago" 
 
 " And are you quite well and happy?" 
 
 " Quite well, and quite happy now you are 
 here." 
 
 ''Little flatterer! but how gay you are, 
 Khoda; you are a young queen holding her court 
 I hear." 
 
 " It is all sweet Miss Dale's kindness." 
 
 '• Ah ! she is always good, as you and I know." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and I love her very dearly, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " My love is not worth bestowing, Rhoda." 
 
 '' Miss Dale would not think so." 
 
 " Yes, yes she would." 
 
 " Try !" said Rhoda. 
 
 Mr. Surrey smiled: 
 
324 THE. GILBERTS, &C. 
 
 " Ah, pretty one, you are taking a leaf from 
 mischievous Fanny's book." 
 
 '' No, it is all my own thought, and I wish, I 
 wish—" 
 
 lie playfully put his hand over her lips, and 
 arrested the unfinished sentence. 
 
 '' Let me tell you what / wish," he said pre- 
 sently, restoring her to the freedom of speech, 
 hut making a prisoner of her little hand, "" let 
 me tell you what / wish !" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " That you would wear this for my sake," and 
 he clasped on her slender little arm an elaborately 
 wrought silver bracelet. 
 
 Ehoda's eyes glistened — they were full of tears, 
 she caught his hand and impulsively kissed it 
 over and over again. 
 
 " I could never forget you without this," she 
 said. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T C Xewby, Printer, 30, Welbeck-street, Caveadish- square.