^> 
 
 i 
 
 LI E, R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 H773s 
 
 y.l 
 
THE 
 
 SHADOW OF A LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 BERYL HOPE 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13 WATERLOO PLACE. 
 
 1880. 
 
LONDON : 
 rniNTED BY W. H. ALLEN AND CO. 
 
hill 2 s 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 :j CHAPTER I.— The Old Home . 
 
 "^ CHAPTEE II.— A New Acquaintance 
 
 iT/ CHAPTER III.— The Thoebuens 
 
 '^^ CHAPTER IV. — Anothee Aspect of Life 
 
 CHAPTER v.— Moee Heaet-buenings 
 
 CHAPTER VI.— A Day at Wentwoeth Couet . 
 
 ^ CHAPTER VII. — Death and Disappointment . 
 
 ^ CHAPTER VIII.— An Evening at the Thoe- 
 
 I BUENS 
 
 ^ CHAPTER IX. — I MAKE A Painful Discoveey . 
 jj, CHAPTER X. — Peide and Resentment 
 
 I 
 
 
 Page 
 
 1 
 
 30 
 
 ^Q 
 
 91 
 
 124 
 
 154 
 
 192 
 
 219 
 250 
 281 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
THE 
 
 SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE OLD HOME. 
 
 " Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home." 
 
 I CAN see it now, the dear old house in which 
 I was born. It is gone — like so many relics 
 of the past which are doubly treasured because 
 they no longer exist — burnt down and de- 
 stroyed by a large fire which devastated half 
 the street, and in its place now stands a row of 
 shops. But still the remembrance of it remains, 
 the outline is familiar to my sight, and every 
 room is clearly stamped upoa my memory. 
 I. 1 
 
2 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 It was no gorgeous pile, no castellated 
 edifice ; no elaborate carving decorated its 
 walls, or marked it from tlie buildings which 
 surrounded it. It was a simple square-built 
 house, in red brick, fronting upon the principal 
 street of the town of Halton : — an unpreten- 
 tious, ugly building enough, with stuccoed 
 pillars on each side of the hall-door which in 
 our childhood we liked to imagine were granite, 
 and with the usual five windows above and 
 four below with which such houses are com- 
 monly ornamented. A house once despised, 
 but now doubly dear, inasmuch as it contains 
 all the memories of my childhood. There I 
 was born, and lived, and grew up, and there 
 my mother died, this sad circumstance chang- 
 ing the current of our lives : — but I must not 
 anticipate. 
 
 The town of Halton was an old straggling 
 market-town dating back, so far as I can tell, 
 to about the fifteenth century, and neither 
 prospering very rapidly, nor falHng off in its 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 3 
 
 steady-going trade. Houses had been built 
 up, pulled down, or repaired, without any 
 reference to their predecessors, and the streets 
 had that irregular aspect which is so rare in 
 these days of modern architecture, in which the 
 first aim seems to be neatness and uniformity. 
 Built in every style of architecture, from the 
 gabled roof and dark lines of the Elizabethan 
 period, down to the stiff, square, tea-caddy 
 shaped building of more recent growth, there 
 was a picturesque, quaint look about the old 
 town which gave it almost a foreign appear- 
 ance. But it was ill-paved and ill-lighted, and 
 contrasted unfavourably with the neighbouring 
 assize town of Wentworth, which, possessing 
 the attraction of a regiment, was considered 
 an authority in all details of fashionable intelli- 
 gence, even though it was looked upon as a 
 rival. Up till within a few years Halton had not 
 boasted of a railway, and there were several 
 among its more ancient inhabitants who looked 
 upon such an advance in civilisation as a use- 
 
 1 * 
 
4 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 less and troublesome innovation likely to cause 
 more harm than good, and bring evils into the 
 place which till then had been unthought of. 
 I believe some of these worthy old people 
 would have been content with their sedan 
 chairs and pattens till the end of the nineteenth 
 century, and certainly preferred the habits of 
 their youth to the more intelligent manners 
 and customs of modern society, which they 
 appeared to resent as a sort of infringement 
 upon their social rights. But they were for 
 the most part worthy people, who gossiped 
 harmlessly about their neighbours, and whose 
 smallest actions were a matter of interest to 
 one another. With them, however, we had 
 little in common. We could not claim rela- 
 tionship with a single family in the place — nor, 
 indeed, anywhere else for the matter of that — 
 but we knew them all in a semi-sociable way, 
 sufficient to warrant a kind smile or word of 
 greeting as we met. Beyond that, our ac- 
 quaintance was slight. My father did not 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 5 
 
 desire that his children should acquire the 
 same habits of indolent curiosity which our 
 neighbours possessed, and which he condemned, 
 not only as a waste of time, but as likely to 
 form impressions which it would be difficult to 
 eradicate in later years. To give us a good edu- 
 cation was his chief object, to keep us as far as 
 possible from lowering influences, and to ele- 
 vate our minds so that we might appreciate for 
 ourselves the many advantages which were to 
 be found above and beyond the little world in 
 which we dwelt. In this he showed wisdom, 
 as I now see, though in the days which are 
 gone I have too often chafed at my want 
 of companionship, and blamed my parents for 
 unkindness in permitting it. 
 
 Perhaps this fact was well understood in 
 Halton : at any rate, it was acknowledged. Very 
 few among the respectable and respected towns- 
 folk ventured to intrude themselves into the 
 sanctity of our home circle. Towards my 
 father they showed a profound reverence ; to 
 
6 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 my mother they extended a kindly nod of 
 recognition. Though most of them lived in 
 better houses than we could boast, there seemed 
 an insurmountable barrier between us, and 
 the sociability of Halton, of which there was a 
 good deal, was carried on without any reference 
 to ourselves. My mother never complained; 
 perhaps she, like my father, desired that it 
 should be so, and, with only one exception, I 
 do not think that she had an intimate friend in 
 the town. 
 
 He, dear soul, was far too much occupied to 
 take note of such small matters as our childish 
 discontent, and I think my mother's ear was 
 the only recipient of my occasional burst of 
 injured feeling. My father was the doctor of 
 Halton; a busy, active, care-worn man so far 
 back as I can carry my memory, with sorrow and 
 anxiety visibly written upon his face — a hand- 
 some face still, a face at which one might look 
 twice with the conviction that it was an index 
 to a noble and great mind, albeit that mind had 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. / 
 
 known sorrow and suffering. Perhaps the many 
 scenes through which he had passed in his 
 medical career had caused those lines which lay 
 round the flexible mouth ; perhaps some sorrow 
 had touched with her ruthless hand a corner of 
 that sensitive heart, sending a thrill of agony 
 to every part of the delicately organised frame, 
 the impress of which would for ever remain, 
 despite the happiness which had since endea- 
 voured to atone for it. But there it was, un- 
 heeded, unnoticed by us, till long after I had 
 passed the age of childhood. It had always been 
 so. We could rarely recall a burst of hearty 
 laughter, a lively joke, a romp with us children 
 such as those in which most fathers indulge. The 
 nearest approach to anything like levity was an 
 occasional ripple of low laughter which would 
 unconsciously escape his lips over a book which 
 he was reading, and which would cause us to 
 exchange glances of surprised interest that our 
 father had found something to amuse him. 
 From this it must not be imagined that he 
 
8 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 was a morose or cold-hearted man. 'No father 
 loved his children with a truer devotion than 
 he bestowed upon us, though we met but 
 seldom, and then said so little to each other. 
 Though he was reserved, he was never cold ; 
 though quiet, rarely angry or irritable. We 
 only understood that he was busy, a feeling 
 that was so general throughout the household 
 that our usual occupations were followed with- 
 out reference to him. His chief interest ap- 
 peared to be in his practice, and a doctor who 
 is devoted to his patients has not much time 
 for his own home circle. We were left almost 
 entirely to the care of our mother, or to the 
 governess whom he himself had taken pains 
 to select as our teacher. In this manner I 
 grew up, with a deep and reverent love for my 
 father, but with a love which contained more 
 of respect than confidence. To my mother were 
 imparted my childish griefs, my pleasures, my 
 victories or defeats. I beheved that she under- 
 stood far better than he the workings of my 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. V 
 
 inner nature, the pride and temper wliicli were 
 mj chief stumbling-blocks. But from her lips 
 fell more words of condemnation and reproof 
 than I altogether appreciated, and I frequently 
 contrasted her unfavourably with my other 
 parent who was to me the perfection of man- 
 hood. 
 
 She was what would have been termed in 
 characteristic vernacular as a *' natty " person, 
 clear-headed, far-seeing, and energetic; she 
 could '' turn her hand " to whatever came in her 
 way, making sure that the result would be 
 satisfactory, as it always was. I never saw 
 anyone with so great a love for order and 
 neatness. It was quite distressing to her to 
 see a book out of place, an untidy work-basket, 
 or a soiled collar. The only time that I can re- 
 member her boxing my ears was when I went out 
 with three buttons off my boots, upon which 
 occasion I had met old Lady Milford from the 
 Park, who had graciously stopped and spoken 
 to me. I remembered the circumstance for 
 
10 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 a long time afterwards, illogicallj connecting 
 tlie unoffending old lady with the action — which, 
 doubtless, was the most correct construction I 
 could put upon it — and feeling conscious and 
 unhappy whenever I saw her carriage in the 
 distance. But my mother was not impatient 
 as a rule ; she, like my father, had seen sorrow, 
 and was reserved even to mystery upon cer- 
 tain subjects. We knew that there had been a 
 little child born to them before any of us were 
 born, whose brief existence might partly ac- 
 count for the cloud which hung over them; 
 but when I had once ventured to ask her some 
 particulars, she closed the subject instantly, 
 with a request that I might never name it 
 more, or certainly not in the presence of my 
 father. 
 
 Fortunately for us, the sadness which ap- 
 peared to be part of our parents' nature was 
 not extended to us, their children; we were all 
 in our different ways inclined to be merry 
 and light-hearted, as healthy happy children 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 11 
 
 upon whom earth's shadows have not yet fallen 
 are wont to be. Edmund, our eldest and only 
 brother, was, perhaps, the staidest of the party, 
 but he was not much with us except in the 
 holidays. Agnes, a year younger than myself, 
 was also dignified and sensible — much more so 
 than I, who was always wayward and impul- 
 sive — but she had her merry moods occasion- 
 ally ; while our little sister Mildred, some ^ve 
 years younger, enlivened the household with her 
 childish prattle, and unvarying good temper. 
 
 So long as I was a child I believe I was 
 tolerably contented with the circumstances 
 which surrounded my life. It was when I had 
 attained the age of fourteen or thereabouts 
 that I began to feel higher aspirations. I 
 chafed at our position in the town, secretly 
 believing that we were rather better than other 
 people, which was the cause of their keeping 
 so aloof from our society, and yet annoyed that 
 they should adopt this line towards us. I did 
 not venture to remark upon this in my mother's 
 
12 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 presence, feeling sure that it would call forth 
 a strong reproof, for she had a great objection 
 to anything like pride and vanity, of which, 
 alas ! I had so much. Our only companions 
 at this time were the children of an ironmonger 
 who lived a few doors from our house, over their 
 shop in the High Street. We were often sur- 
 prised that we were allowed to speak to them 
 at all, but the intimacy appeared to have grown 
 up unconsciously, and I had no recollection of 
 how or when it had begun. Mr. Thorburn, 
 the father, was a big man with a loud, fussy 
 manner ; his wife a gentle little body who was 
 invariably kind to us. The children — three 
 girls and a boy, like ourselves, though differing 
 in age — had been playmates for so long that 
 their want of refinement did not grate upon 
 us till now, when my mind was beginning to 
 develop, and I could judge of such matters for 
 myself. Besides, I could see that our intimacy 
 was distasteful to my father, and though I 
 grumbled because I had no other friends, I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 13 
 
 secretly despised these humble companions. 
 Why, I thought, if my father visited among 
 the " county-people," as we townsfolk desig- 
 nated them, should not we also do the same ? 
 I knew that he was regarded by many of them 
 as a friend, and I had myself come in for many 
 a kind word or admiring glance when I had 
 had the good fortune to be with him in their 
 presence. But they never called upon us, 
 though their carriages frequently stood before 
 the door, waiting to receive the answer to a 
 missive of delicate importance brought by the 
 servants. We knew most of the big houses 
 by sight, and used to point them out to one 
 another as the places where our father went, 
 conjecturing what might be inside or how we 
 should behave if we were invited to spend a 
 day there, a problem which seemed never des- 
 tined to have a solution. Even during our 
 few short years of childhood, changes had 
 taken place in these mansions, as changes take 
 place everywhere. The dear old lady who had 
 
14 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 kindly stopped and spoken to me wlien the 
 shabbiness of my boots had been such a sore 
 point in my memory, departed to her rest 
 when I had just completed my twelfth year, 
 and her husband Sir George Milford followed 
 her within six months afterwards. We were 
 sorry for this, i.e, sorry for the loss of two 
 kindly faces which had become well-known to 
 all the inhabitants of Halton, and whose good 
 deeds would live after them for some years to 
 come. We were told that the eldest son had 
 now taken possession of the Park, and very 
 soon our thoughts were diverted by the sight 
 of him with his beautiful young wife, appear- 
 ing in the old family pew in which we had seen 
 them hitherto as guests of the family. But 
 after a time these incidents only served to 
 furnish us with new interests, as our lives 
 flowed on in their even, uneventful stream. It 
 was on my fourteenth birthday that a change 
 in the current of my life seemed to be immi- 
 nent. I had been unusually troublesome to 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 15 
 
 my governess Miss Marks, whose patience, I 
 can now see, must have been sorely tried by my 
 vagaries. After indignantly refusing to read 
 history with her, because it was my birthday, 
 I shut the book up flat, and took up my httle 
 work-basket which contained a pair of un- 
 finished socks which I was knitting for my 
 brother Edmund. 
 
 Miss Marks said nothing. She possibly 
 knew from experience that anything like re- 
 monstrance was useless, but she pushed the 
 closed book from before her where I had laid 
 it down, and left the room in silence. My 
 sister Agnes looked at me reproachfully, which 
 only confirmed my determination to appear as 
 indifferent as possible ; but unfortunately this 
 was not so easy a matter as I intended that it 
 should be. My breath came quick, my hands 
 were very cold, and my tongue seemed dry and 
 clave to the roof of my mouth. " Where can 
 she have gone ? " I soliloquized, as her length- 
 ened absence caused me still further uneasiness. 
 
16 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 My father, as I hoped, had gone out some time 
 ago, but my mother would surely have ap- 
 peared upon the scene before this if it was to 
 her that Miss Marks had made her appeal. I 
 was not long left in doubt, though the minutes 
 appeared to me like hours. In a short time 
 Miss Marks returned with a request that I 
 would follow her to my father's private room, 
 and now, indeed, I did feel frightened, though 
 my pride was equal to almost any emergency. 
 With my knitting in my hand, my head indus- 
 triously bent over the rapid stitches which my 
 trembling fingers tried to form, I passed by 
 Agnes in silence, unheeding the little twitch 
 which she gave to my dress in token of sympa- 
 thetic kindness. Down the passage, and out 
 at the side door, across the yard with its plot 
 of green in the middle, till we came to the httle 
 building which was fitted up as my father's 
 surgery, and to which many of the patients made 
 their approach by the side gate which led into 
 the lane. Miss Marks pushed open the door in 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 17 
 
 answer to a summons from within, and then, 
 with more discretion than I should pro- 
 bably have credited her with, modestly re- 
 tired. 
 
 My father was seated in his arm-chair by 
 the table which was thickly strewn with books 
 and medical documents. He appeared to be 
 writing a letter, though possibly it might have 
 been a prescription only. When he did raise 
 his head, I saw, instead of the dreaded frown 
 and grave expression of his usually sad face, a 
 light as it were breaking over his whole coun- 
 tenance ; and taking this as a hopeful sign that 
 the forthcoming lecture would not be very 
 formidable, I took courage and ventured to 
 address him first : 
 
 '* Did you wish to speak to me. Father? '' 
 My hands were still twitching nervously in 
 their futile attempts to pick up dropped stitches 
 which had maliciously slipped from their 
 proper position during my hurried march 
 across the grass plot, but my face had the 
 I. 2 
 
18 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 semblance of a smile on it, reflected, no doubt, 
 by tbe brightness from my father's own. 
 
 '' Yes, Ella, I do," he replied in a grave voice 
 which sounded rather at variance with his more 
 encouraging expression. " I am sorry to hear 
 that it is necessary. Miss Marks tells me that 
 you have been both rude and disobedient to 
 her ; is this the case ? " 
 
 He looked at me calmly while waiting for 
 my reply, in which my natural truthfulness 
 and my intense pride were having a severe 
 tussle for the upper hand. I could not say 
 that I had not been rude, so took refuge in 
 excuse by way of helping myself out of the 
 difficulty. 
 
 "Miss Marks is aggravating," I said, pouting, 
 " and she does not understand mo. I think it 
 is very hard that I should be kept at lessons 
 on my birthday now that I am fourteen. 
 Surely a few hours in the morning of one day 
 cannot be of much consequence to my educa- 
 tion." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 19 
 
 The smile which curved round my father's 
 mouth seemed to assume a curious mixture of 
 satire and playfulness as he said : 
 
 " Of course Miss Marks' object in teaching 
 you at all is simply to cause you annoyance. 
 It must be so interesting to her to watch the 
 effect of her efforts in that direction. Is this 
 what you wish to imply ? " 
 
 " No," I said sullenlyj " of course not." 
 
 " But you think you know much better than 
 she does the proper amount of study which is 
 necessary for you. I am afraid your fourteen 
 years have not taught you much common sense, 
 my child, but, so far as I can see, have de- 
 veloped a great deal of pride and wilfulness. 
 Your conduct towards Miss Marks is such as 
 any girl of fourteen should be ashamed of, both 
 impertinent and intolerable, and I cannot allow 
 it to continue." My father's words contained 
 no undercurrent of irritability, though they 
 were severe, and I felt them. My eyes were 
 cast upon the table now, and I did not dare to 
 
 2 * 
 
20 THE SHADOW OE A LIFE. 
 
 raise them, or suffer myself to reply. A chok- 
 ing sensation was burning in my throat, and 
 I clenched my hands very tight to prevent the 
 scalding tears from forcing their way into my 
 eyes, as they seemed determined to do. 
 
 " You used to profess an affection for your 
 governess," he went on, " at which I own that 
 I felt much pleasure, for I understand her 
 worth, perhaps, even better than you do. You 
 owe much to her, not only in education, and 
 I am surprised that you cannot value her 
 services more." 
 
 All this was true, and I felt it. Miss Marks 
 had been our constant companion since I had 
 passed out of the hands of Mrs. Mason, our 
 old Scotch nurse. But for her, our lives 
 would have been much more monotonous than 
 we had hitherto found them. But I had grown 
 tired of her, and her authority had waxed 
 feeble ; with the oncoming years my own will 
 was developing, and now came into constant 
 conflict with her superior judgment, thus 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 21 
 
 causing many quarrels of which I had sup- 
 posed my father to be in ignorance. His 
 words, however, proved that he knew more 
 about me than I fancied, and I was a little 
 startled at the discovery. Perhaps Miss 
 Marks had been in the habit of complaining 
 to him unknown to myself : if so, she had 
 been ungenerous, taking a mean advan- 
 tage of me, who would not have thus acted 
 towards herself. My first impulse was to feel 
 softened, but as this bitter thought crossed 
 my mind, my resentment against her redoubled 
 its force. 
 
 " I do not care for Miss Marks," I answered, 
 my pride enabling me to gulp down the sting- 
 ing lump which was burning in my throat. 
 " I think she is very unkind sometimes, and I 
 wish she was not my teacher." 
 
 "I do not intend that she shall be much 
 longer," said my father in his calm clear voice. 
 " I have seen for some time that you do not 
 appreciate her as you ought to do, and have 
 
22 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 therefore made arrangements for you to leave 
 home, and go to school, where I hope you will 
 be under more control, and learn to govern 
 your own nature better." 
 
 The words fell upon me so suddenly that I 
 had hardly time to note the importance of 
 them. I had not dreamed of going to school, 
 of leaving my own home and its inmates from 
 whom I had never been parted in my life. A 
 quick sensation thrilled through me which was 
 almost indefinable, a sense of something new 
 and strange, but very important — an event, an 
 epoch which would, perhaps, be one of my 
 turning-points in life — to which I should look 
 backwards in the after years as a division of 
 that which came before from that which would 
 be hereafter. The lump was growing bigger 
 again, and the suddenness of my father's words 
 had unnerved me and thrown me off my guard. 
 The two large tears which lay so near my eyes 
 welled over and fell upon my hands with a 
 little splash, and were followed by others in 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 23 
 
 quick succession which I had no power to con- 
 trol as I longed to do. 
 
 My father spoke kindly after this. He took 
 me into his arms and kissed me, pointing out 
 the many advantages that were to gained by 
 this step, and assuring me that it was no sud- 
 den resolve, although it might appear so to me. 
 And all the while there was the strange light 
 in his eyes which had surprised me at first, and 
 which seemed to shine forth from behind the 
 cloud which usually shaded his face, not wholly 
 dispersing it, but only as it were in gleams of 
 fitful sunshine casting rays of brightness 
 through the shadow. After a little conversa- 
 tion, I found myself talking more freely with 
 him than I had ever done before, and, the ice 
 thus broken, I told him of some of my discon- 
 tentment and longing for companions. He did 
 not blame me as I expected, but seemed to 
 appreciate my feelings, though he regretted 
 them. He was glad that I should now have 
 the opportunity of knowing other people, he 
 
24 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 said, and in a short time lie hoped to send 
 Agnes to the same school, so that we should 
 not be long parted from each other. Before 
 I left him I felt quite happy and elated with 
 the new prospect before me; and when a 
 message arrived to say that his horse and gig 
 were waiting at the door, I jumped up with 
 alacrity, eager to assist him with his prepara- 
 tions. 
 
 " Can I post these letters for you ? " I asked, 
 anxious to show him how useful I now in- 
 tended to be for the short time in which I 
 should be at home. '* This one is not yet 
 directed,'' and I indicated the one which he 
 had been writing when I had been brought up 
 for judgment. 
 
 " No," he answered " it is not for post. lam 
 driving out in that direction, and will take it my- 
 self," and he rapidly ran over the address with 
 his pen, which I as rapidly perused after him. 
 It was to Lady Constance Milford, the wife of 
 the newly-made baronet, whose face had caused 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 25 
 
 me SO much interest. "Do you know her?" 
 I eagerly inquired ; '' and is she as nice as she 
 is pretty ? " 
 
 But to the latter part of this sentence my 
 father turned a deaf ear. ' ' Yes, I know her, ' ' he 
 answered quickly; ^' don't you know that I have 
 always attended the family ? Now go, my child. 
 Don't forget the other letters, and — Ella — " 
 
 "Yes, Father." 
 
 " Don't forget to apologise to Miss Marks 
 for your rudeness." 
 
 My face became rather rosy at this reminder. 
 With a hurried " Yes," I snatched up my knit- 
 ting, sprang out at the door, and was across the 
 yard and back into the schoolroom before he 
 could have drawn on his gloves. Running up 
 to Miss Marks, I said, rather flippantly : 
 
 " Miss Marks, I'm really very sorry if I was 
 rude to you ; but all the same, we won't have any 
 history to-day, thank you. And, Agnes, when 
 you have time I want you up in my room. I 
 have something of importance to communicate." 
 
26 THE SHADOW OF A LIEE. 
 
 Agnes looked surprised. She liad evidently- 
 expected to see me enter with a crestfallen 
 countenance, and was not quite prepared for 
 the lively manner which I had adopted ; but 
 without vouchsafing another remark, I was off 
 and upstairs, looking into the nursery on my 
 way to my own room, to see if perchance my 
 mother might be within. My conjecture proved 
 correct. There she was, in deep consultation 
 with Mrs. Mason over the letting-down of 
 summer frocks, and such like important 
 matters. They were both too much absorbed 
 to take any notice of me till I surprised my 
 mother with a hug, an action of so rare an 
 occurrence that she looked up startled. 
 
 "Well, Ella, what is it ? " she asked as soon 
 as she could recover her breath ; '' some favour 
 you wish to ask, I'll be bound. To be let off 
 lessons, I should not wonder : is that it ? " 
 
 "No, Mother, thank you, for I told Miss 
 Marks that I did not wish to have any more to- 
 day myself. That isn't it at all. Some more, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 27 
 
 far more important news for you to hear — 
 though, perhaps, it is not news to you at all." 
 
 My mother smiled significantly. *' What can it 
 be?" she asked in the puzzled tone which 
 people adopt when trying to throw a child off 
 the scent, but which was too transparent a 
 counterfeit to escape my notice. 
 
 '' Then you do know," I said reproachfully, 
 '' and I thought I should have given you such 
 a surprise. I think you might have told me," 
 I added in an injured tone ; "you might have 
 known how much I should like to have 
 heard it." 
 
 " If you mean about your going to school, 
 Ella, I certainly could not have told you, for 
 your father only named it to me a few days 
 ago ; and then only upon condition that I should 
 not speak of it before you children." 
 
 "Mason knew, I suppose," I said, glancing 
 towards our old nurse who, like my mother, 
 was busy in her operations over the gathers of 
 the aforesaid frocks. 
 
28 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Ella," she said demurely, "I 
 knew all about it, but only yesterday. It's 
 that that makes us so busy the day." 
 
 So this important secret was no secret at all, 
 and my ardour in imparting it was somewhat 
 damped ; but it soon revived when my mother 
 began talking of our preparations. Then I 
 entered warmly into the subject, inquiring 
 first how soon I was to leave home, where I 
 was to go, what sort of school it was to be, 
 and so on. My mother was kind, as she always 
 was. She dwelt particularly upon my great 
 advantages in being removed from the narrow 
 world in which I lived, and urged me to make 
 the most of such great opportunities, which I 
 was not slow in promising. The emancipation 
 . from my present life was too charming to be 
 under-rated. I already pictured myself as the 
 admired and beloved of all my school friends, 
 being not insensible to the graces which 
 nature had bestowed upon me. In short, no 
 pillar was wanting to support the fairy castle 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 29 
 
 whicli my excited imagination had built. 
 Before the great day arrived upon which I 
 was to start in my first voyage of life, the 
 bright clouds of anticipation had floated into 
 the horizon and tinted the future with a golden 
 hue. 
 
30 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 "There 's a lady — an earl's daughter ; she is proud and 
 she is noble, 
 And she treads the crimson carpets, and she breathes 
 the perfumed air." 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 
 The school to which Agnes and I were sent, 
 was a fashionable boarding-school at the west 
 end of London, where, according to my antici- 
 pations, I was thoroughly happy for the space 
 of four years. When I returned home I was 
 eighteen, and quite a grown-up young lady 
 according to my own ideas of that phrase. I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 31 
 
 had made many friends during my sojourn, 
 was sufl&ciently popular to have at least half a 
 dozen confidantes, and, when the time came for 
 me to depart, was genuinely sorry to say good- 
 bye to so many who had been kind to me. 
 I had visited at several houses during the holi- 
 days, and had made acquaintance with the 
 relatives of some of my schoolfellows, many 
 of whom occupied a position in life which was 
 rather above my own. But I had never ven- 
 tured to ask my parents whether they would 
 return the kind hospitality which I had re- 
 ceived, feeling an intuitive certainty that my 
 request would not be complied with. And, 
 indeed, I had no desire to do so, for I was 
 already beginning to feel ashamed of our quiet 
 home and plain manner of living, and usually 
 rejoiced when the holidays came to an end and 
 I could return to the bright companionship of 
 my friends. When the time came for me to 
 leave school altogether, I looked forward with 
 more dread than pleasure to the life that might 
 
32 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 be in store for me. I could anticipate nothing 
 in the way of gaiety such as most girls indulge 
 in, for I had never remembered my father and 
 mother going to a ball in their lives, and 
 though I had been taught dancing, felt morally 
 certain that my powers would not often be 
 called into action. Besides, there was no one 
 whom I could know intimately, the society of 
 the town chiefly consisting in that of the well- 
 to-do tradesman or old-fashioned people to 
 whom I have already referred. Of the county 
 folk I knew nothing, nor was likely to do so. 
 They would not take the trouble to call upon 
 me, a fresh unsophisticated school-girl, and 
 I was sure that my mother would resent the 
 act as a patronage. She was the same good 
 manaofer as of old. her well-stocked store- 
 closet and larder gave the same indications of 
 thrift and good management as heretofore: but 
 I wanted something more than this now. The 
 stiff drawing-room, whose quaint old-fashioned 
 furniture had been familiar from childhood, now 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 33 
 
 irritated and perplexed me. Its very tidiness 
 was provoking. I longed to pull the sofa out 
 from the wall, to drag the table-cloth awry, 
 to make a bonfire of the old books with their 
 cheap engravings which adorned the table, 
 arranged corner-wise one above another in 
 aggravating symmetry. But there it all re- 
 mained as of old. The square piano, the old 
 clock on the mantel-piece, with the pair of 
 lustres at each end, which were relieved by two 
 spill-boxes containing the proper number of 
 spills made from the backs of old letters with 
 which my dear mother duly supplied them. 
 All this was very aggravating to me, and not 
 the less so because I could not make my mother 
 see that they were ugly and unmeaning in 
 themselves. What had been good enough for 
 her, she argued, might be good enough for me ; 
 that she regretted my London education if it 
 had only sent me home with fine -lady airs 
 which taught me to despise my home ; and in 
 short, she indicated in her decisive way that 
 I. 3 
 
34 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 the subject was one which she did not desiro 
 to discuss. Seeing that no form of argument 
 would prevail with her, I next appealed to my 
 father, but to my surprise found him almost 
 as obdurate as she appeared to be. To my 
 entreaty that he would make the house more 
 presentable, and visit among his patients, of 
 whom there now appeared to be a goodly 
 number, he shook his head with a sad smile, 
 as if the request contained some occult reason 
 for its refusal. The silence and reserve with 
 which he treated the subject irritated me : I 
 was eighteen now, fit to be companionable and 
 share some of his confidences. I had been 
 deemed sufficiently presentable for the London 
 drawing-rooms of my friends, whose social 
 scale was far above that of the Halton people, 
 and yet my desire to know someone beyond 
 our family circle in this obscure town seemed 
 to be regarded as an anomalous request which 
 was not to be taken into consideration for a mo- 
 ment. Was I always to live this fife ? Already 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 85 
 
 I felt its monotony pall upon me, for I had 
 been flattered and petted by my school friends, 
 who had taught me sufl&cient of the world's 
 ways to give me a longing for more. I had 
 ridden along Eotten Eow in company with my 
 friend Mary Leslie, whose cousin lived at "Went- 
 worth in the big house which I knew so well 
 by reputation; I had sat behind Lord Eustone's 
 high- stepping horses, chatting freely with his 
 daughter Oecile who had been another com- 
 panion of my school-life ; and yet, forsooth, I 
 was to be imprisoned within the four walls of 
 my own home, because my parents chose to 
 have old-fashioned or eccentric notions about 
 society. " Why," I urged, "should this be so ? 
 Could we not afford to entertain our friends, 
 or was it simply because my parents did not 
 desire to do so ? " 
 
 We were driving along the road which led 
 from our town towards the village of Milford, 
 on a warm day towards the end of June, when 
 I put this question to my father. The heat 
 
 3 * 
 
36 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 was slightly oppressive in our small brougham, 
 and probably he found it so, for he took off 
 his hat and passed his hand through his hair 
 before he answered me. 
 
 '* I am sorry, my dear, that you are not 
 contented with your home," he said quietly. 
 " I was afraid it might be so : but you must be 
 patient. Perhaps it will be better in the 
 future." 
 
 "How can it be better," I asked petulantly, 
 "unless we make it so ? If we voluntarily place 
 ourselves in an obscure position we cannot 
 expect people to seek us. I have been at home 
 now since Easter, and during all this time 
 have not met with one person with whom I 
 felt myself upon intimate terms." 
 
 " Whom do you wish to know ? " asked my 
 father. " Whom, of all the people in Halton, 
 would you like to choose for a friend? " 
 
 I paused : there was no one. Kate and 
 Ellen Thorburn, the ironmonger's daughters, 
 would have been — I knew — only too glad to 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 37 
 
 claim me as an acquaintance ; but tliose days 
 in which I had known them as children were 
 past and gone now, and there were no girls 
 with whom I felt anything in common. 
 
 " I don't know," I faltered. '' I don't think 
 that I meant the people of Halton exactly." 
 
 ''"Who is there besides? " 
 
 " Why, the people you visit," I answered, 
 reddening a Httle; ''you seem to know them 
 well enough, and they all regard you as a 
 friend. Why should they not know us? " 
 
 " Because they won't, I suppose," said my 
 father briefly. 
 
 My face flushed more deeply. " Why not ? " 
 I said angrily ; " are we not fit for them to 
 visit ? " 
 
 It was my father's turn to flush now, which 
 he did. A faint pink tinge flooded over his 
 pale face as he said : " People will often make 
 a friend of their doctor without being willing 
 to know his family also." 
 
 I swallowed down the bitter mortification 
 
38 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 wliich stung my sensitive nature to tlie quick. 
 " I understand," I said calmly : "then neither 
 will we know them." 
 
 My father noticed the pain in my voice 
 which I had taken such pains to conceal. 
 " You forget," he said ; " people have had no 
 opportunity of knowing you hitherto, and I have 
 had neither money nor position to justify me 
 in holding a place in the society which is most 
 congenial to me. One object that I have had 
 in educating you so well, has been that you 
 should be fit for any position in life which may 
 offer itself, and you must be grateful for this, 
 and not give yourself up to gloomy reflections." 
 
 *' I do not think I am likely to do that," 1 
 answered, feeling that in spite of all things 
 there was a buoyancy within me which gave 
 to the future a certain amount of hopefulness. 
 " Now that I have come home, perhaps people 
 will find all this out, and will wish to visit us. 
 But then — oh ! Father, how could we ask any- 
 one to our house in its present state ? " 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 39 
 
 ""We cannot," lie said resignedly. 
 
 '* Then we must make it better," I persisted, 
 coming back to the old vexed question with 
 childish pertinacity. 
 
 ** That is impossible : I cannot afford to 
 do it." 
 
 The expression may have borne another 
 construction than that which I put upon it, but 
 nevertheless it irritated me. I could only 
 regard it in one light, which was, that my 
 father imagined that he had not sufficient 
 means to live like other people and entertain 
 hospitably. How could he talk of poverty 
 when our education had cost him so much? 
 Edmund was now at college, Agnes still at 
 school, and Mildred under the care of the 
 governess who had succeeded Miss Marks in 
 the household. I knew that it was all regu- 
 larly paid for, and that my father's practice was 
 increasing. The idea of poverty must be an 
 infatuation of his own brain. I said fretfully : 
 
 '' I do not see much use in my having been 
 
40 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 sent to school, then, if I am to live all my life 
 in the manner that I am doing at present." 
 
 My father smiled a faint smile ; then put- 
 ting his arm round me, he kissed my cheek, as 
 he said gently : 
 
 " Come, Ella, do not be discontented, but 
 hope for the best. My child, if I can bear it, 
 surely you may do so." 
 
 I looked up hurriedly into his face. Was 
 this true? Could he also know what it was 
 to feel ruffled, soured, and disappointed, as I 
 too often had felt within the last few months ? 
 Did that account for his sad face and reserved 
 manner? In one moment I was ashamed of 
 myself, and would have burst into a torrent 
 of remorseful self-reproach, had not my 
 thoughts been diverted into another channel. 
 
 " Why, Father ! " I exclaimed, as the carriage 
 turned off from the main road, and then di- 
 verging suddenly, brought us up to the lodge- 
 gates of Milford Park ; " are you going in 
 here ? you did not tell me so." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 41 
 
 "Yes," he answered. ''I am sorry to say 
 that Sir Leopold is in very bad health. But 
 I shall not be long ; you will not mind wait- 
 ing in the carriage for me, will you?" 
 
 " No, not at all/' I replied. I was accus- 
 tomed now to these visits of my father's, 
 who frequently allowed me to accompany 
 him on his round of professional calls, and 
 as I was usually supplied with a book I was 
 generally oblivious as to the length of time 
 they lasted. It had brought us much closer 
 together than in the old days when I knew so 
 little about him. I quite enjoyed the little talks 
 which our companionship afforded. But I had 
 never been to Milford House with him before, 
 though I had known the Park from my 
 childhood. Years ago, when I was quite a little 
 girl, I had been brought there by my mother, 
 upon one of those childish expeditions in which 
 the Thorburns had participated. We had romped 
 on the lawn, scampered through the kitchen 
 garden, and chased a score of young rabbits 
 
42 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 who must have resented such an intrusion 
 upon their own domains. In addition we had 
 been all over the house, had even visited Lady 
 Milford's private rooms, and seen the pictures 
 of her two sons taken when they were children. 
 But we had never been permitted to pay 
 another such visit. I recollect my father's grave 
 face when he sternly remonstrated with my 
 mother for the intrusion, regardless of her 
 excuse that " other people did so." Since that 
 time I had only seen the Park from the lodge- 
 gates, with many a longing desire to penetrate 
 into its cool glades, or to wander upon the soft 
 springing grass. The recollection of my 
 father's displeasure had caused a certain 
 amount of reserve in speaking of it ; and be- 
 yond the fact that he visited at the house in 
 his professional capacity, we knew nothing 
 more of the family. 
 
 Through the spaces formed by the trees 
 we now caught vistas of smoothly- shaven lawn 
 and artistically arranged flower-beds, showing 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 43 
 
 masses of bright colour between the green 
 foliage. The house itself was old — tradition 
 declared some four or five centuries in age — 
 and its ugly, grey, castellated walls could be 
 seen at intervals, looking picturesque enough 
 at this moment as the afternoon sun gilded 
 them. The undulating slope of ground which 
 swept away from the front appeared to raise 
 the house to a higher eminence than it really 
 boasted, and the more recently built wing with 
 its turreted tower — strangely out of keeping 
 with the rest of the mansion — stood out in bold 
 relief against the sky, whence it could be seen 
 for some disfcance. 
 
 The gate was opened to us by an old woman 
 who dropped a respectful curtsey as the car- 
 riage entered, and we drove silently along the 
 avenue till we came to the slight iron railing 
 which separated the lawn and flower-garden 
 from the Park. And now the house was in 
 full view, no longer grim and stiff as it ap- 
 peared to the outer world, but smiHng in a 
 
44 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 glow of sunshine whicli bathed its windows 
 with a flood of brightness. The ribbon-bor- 
 ders were as perfect as if the hand of Flora 
 herself had designed them, the perfume of the 
 roses was wafted to us upon the delicate breeze 
 which stirred their fragrant petals. A huge 
 mass of jessamine was intermingling its star- 
 like blossoms with sprays of honeysuckle as 
 they clustered and twined round the old- 
 fashioned casements, and sprang upwards 
 to meet again in arches of flower and foli- 
 age. Several of the windows were open, 
 and as we passed along in front of the terrace 
 I caught a vision of a fair head bent over 
 some work, which I was certain must belong to 
 the Lady Constance herself. 
 
 When we arrived at the door, my father 
 turned the handle of his own carriage and 
 walked up the broad flight of steps, giving a 
 loud peal at the bell, which resounded through- 
 out the house. I wished we had a footman to 
 do all this for us ; perhaps then our visit might 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 45 
 
 be deemed a little more important. The re- 
 membrance of my father's words rankled within 
 me, and made my heart glow hotly. I hastily 
 drew out my book, not daring to cast a glance 
 towards the hall door which very soon opened 
 to admit my father and then was closed again. 
 But I was not reading a word of the page 
 before me : I was wildly and unreasonably 
 angry with the people who would not know us, 
 who would admit my father into their confi- 
 dences and ignore his family. I sat as far 
 back into my corner as I could, my two feet 
 propped upon the cushion before me, the 
 billowy folds of my light muslin dress falling 
 in graceful curves over my knees. In the 
 pocket of the brougham was a tiny looking- 
 glass which my father always carried about 
 with him. I stealthily abstracted it, and laying 
 it upon my lap, regarded my own face, bending 
 down over it so as to prevent any chance ob- 
 server from a window seeing it also. And this 
 was what I saw, — a clear, fair, complexion. 
 
.5 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 which, excitement and fresh air had dyed with 
 a rosy bloom, a pair of grey-blue eyes which 
 looked mockingly at me from under their white 
 lids, and above all a mass of golden hair 
 through which gleams of a reddish tint shone 
 and sparkled in the sunlight. I suppose the 
 result was satisfactory, for I smiled, partly in 
 amusement, partly with pleasure, which was 
 reflected back from my opposite self with a 
 certain glance of satirical humour, as from 
 one who understood the matter perfectly, and 
 sympathised with me. 
 
 I was startled by the opening of the hall 
 door, and surreptitiously endeavoured to slip 
 the glass back into its place before my father 
 could observe my movement. But it was not 
 my father. A servant advanced towards the 
 carriage with the announcement that her lady- 
 ship particularly desired that I would walk 
 in, and the rosy flush mounted to my temples 
 as I heard the gracious command given. My 
 first impulse was to refuse. Why should I enter 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 47 
 
 the house of one wlio was ever likely to be a 
 stranger? Then second thoughts, which are 
 sometimes best, warned me that if I did not 
 take this opportunity which offered itself I 
 might never have another, and so, inclining my 
 head in proud assent, I descended from the 
 carriage and followed the footman into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 I felt a Uttle nervous as I heard my name 
 announced in a loud tone of voice, and hoped 
 that the slight veil of spotted net which covered 
 my face would sujQficiently conceal the bright red 
 spot which seemed to actually burn my cheeks. 
 
 The room into which I was ushered was 
 larger than any that we had in Halton, and 
 seemed altogether a blaze of flowers and 
 mirrors, lace and magnificent work. There 
 were beautifully carved tables, tiny chairs and 
 chiffoniers in black and gold, with old china 
 displaying itself in unnatural attitudes in im- 
 possible places. Inverted cups and saucers 
 which looked as if they had forgotten the 
 
48 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 relationship which they bore to one another, 
 or had had a family quarrel, were placed like 
 naughty children upon pedestals in the corner. 
 Moonfaced plates looked down with melan- 
 choly disdain upon their humbler brethren who 
 were stowed away in glass-fronted cupboards, 
 or smilingly reminded their infatuated ad- 
 mirers that they were above the use for which 
 nature had intended them. But all these de- 
 tails I was obliged to take in at a glance, for a 
 lady rose from her corner by the window as I 
 approached, and came forward. 
 
 She was " tall and shapely," rather than 
 actually pretty ; but oh, the grace of her move- 
 ments as she glided forward to greet me ! 
 Her hands were long and slender, white as 
 ivory, with pink-tipped fingers like the delicate 
 colouring of a shell, and as she extended one 
 towards me she smiled, showing a glimpse of 
 pearl-like teeth between the parted lips. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss Hamilton ? " she said 
 with frank courtesy. " I am sorry that you 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 49 
 
 should have been left outside. I was not 
 aware of it till your father mentioned that you 
 were with him." 
 
 " Thank you," I answered timidly, " it is 
 of no consequence, I am quite accustomed 
 to sitting in the carriage when I go out with 
 my father." 
 
 I said this with a slight inflection of pride, 
 despite my timidity. I would not give the Lady 
 Constance an idea that I wished to be invited 
 into her presence. 
 
 " Do you often go out with him ? " she 
 asked, without appearing to heed my manner. 
 
 " Yes, rather often. He likes company 
 when he is not too busy, and it is a pleasure 
 to me to drive with him." 
 
 " You have not been here before, I think, 
 however?" she asked again. 
 
 '' No, not before." My eyes were cast upon 
 the ground now, in shame for what I felt to be 
 a slight evasion. 
 
 "I think your name is Ella, is it not?" 
 I. 4 
 
50 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 The question was quietly put, but it surprised 
 me. How could slie have already heard of it, 
 and from whom ? Had my father so far en- 
 tered into his family history as to tell her the 
 names of his children ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " my name is Ella. I have 
 not long been at home ; I only returned from 
 school at Easter." 
 
 " Indeed ! It must be a great pleasure 
 to you to come home again after so long an 
 absence ? " 
 
 I faltered and blushed once more. I could not 
 say that which I felt to be untrue, neither could 
 I allow Lady Constance Milford to suppose 
 that I was unhappy. I became conscious that 
 I was drawing patterns with my parasol upon 
 the thick velvet pile of the carpet, and only 
 raised my head in answer to her next question. 
 
 " And what do you find to amuse you, now 
 that you are at home ? " 
 
 It was so delicately put, as if interest rather 
 than curiosity prompted it, that I could not 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 51 
 
 feel offended ; but tlie question startled me. 
 It was almost as if slie had divined the subject 
 of mj thoughts as I had driven thitherward, 
 and intended to upbraid me for my want of 
 contentment as mj father had done. But she 
 should not know — if I could help it — the 
 thoughts which had been clashing within me. 
 I would put a good face upon the matter in 
 spite of my inner feelings. " I don't know," 
 I faltered : " I practise and read, and work, and 
 go out with my father sometimes. I do not 
 do much besides," I added. 
 
 " Have you many companions of your own 
 age ? •' 
 
 This was getting too pointed. I wished 
 Lady Constance would leave off her cross- 
 questioning and talk about something plea- 
 santer. Doubtless it might be a token of 
 kindly interest in me, but it was one which 
 I resented. 
 
 " No," I answered boldly, wishing to be 
 
 brave over my grievance, and yet slightly 
 
 4 * 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
62 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 glorying in it. "I have no companions but my 
 sisters. My father is very particular about us. 
 I suppose we might have some if we chose to 
 do so, but he does not care about our knowing 
 many people." 
 
 '* Oh." 
 
 There was silence after this for the space 
 of half a minute, during which I secretly 
 wondered whether I had been rash in thus 
 giving utterance to my thoughts. Of course 
 it was impossible that Lady Constance could 
 understand all these trivial details which must 
 have been so unimportant to her. When 
 she spoke again, it was of the weather and not 
 of me ; then books, then work, then books 
 again ; and finally she remembered one which 
 she was herself reading, and recommended my 
 perusal of it. 
 
 " It may help to beguile an hour when 
 you have nothing else to do," she added in- 
 differently, and there was nothing in either her 
 tone or her words which could lead me to the 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 53 
 
 supposition that she meant more than was ex- 
 pressed ; — but I was in a sensitive mood. 
 
 " Thank you," I replied, as I glanced rapidly 
 through the pages. " It looks nice. But you 
 must not fancy that I cannot find anything 
 to do." 
 
 She looked at me with a look in which both 
 surprise and amusement were blended as she 
 answered apologetically : 
 
 " Not in the least, I only thought that you 
 would enjoy it sometimes on a wet afternoon, 
 perhaps, or when you were not in the mood for 
 other things." 
 
 '' Thank you," I said again, feeling a little 
 uneasy at my transparent candour which had 
 already laid bare my inner thoughts to this 
 stranger. 
 
 " I hope you will come and see me again 
 sometimes," she said again, after the cleverness 
 of her parrot had been discussed, and the 
 beauty of her lap-dog admired. " We live 
 very quietly, on account of my husband's health, 
 
54 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 but it will give us great pleasure if you care 
 to come out so far." 
 
 *' You are very kind," I said warmly, as my 
 face glowed with pleasure ; ''it would be de- 
 lightful if I might — if you would have me." 
 
 The realization of my hopes had come so un- 
 expectedly, and the invitation was so naturally 
 given, that I could not but respond heartily. 
 
 " It would be very nice," I repeated, all 
 former doubts vanishing from my mind in a 
 moment. 
 
 " I should be very glad if you can," said 
 the lady kindly. '' I have heard your father 
 speak of you ; so you see you are not quite a 
 stranger." 
 
 So my father had talked about me to this 
 lady whom 1 had barely seen before. What 
 could he have said about me ? What interest 
 could have been created that she should ask 
 me to visit her ? The question had barely 
 time to revolve itself in my mind before the 
 door opened, and my father himself entered, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 55 
 
 coming in unannounced, and sitting down in 
 an arm-chair just as he would have sat in his 
 own at home, with perfect ease and self- 
 possession. 
 
 *' Oh, he is better," he said coolly — giving 
 his information before it was asked — '' decidedly 
 better. If I were you I would have out the 
 horses and give him a drive. A little fresh air 
 would do him good on a fine day like this." 
 
 I saw Lady Constance glance hurriedly 
 towards him, and then for the first time he 
 seemed to see me, who, seated in one of the 
 large windows, was partly concealed by the 
 heavily embroidered lace curtain which hung 
 before it. 
 
 " Ah ! Ella, are you there ? " he asked. " I 
 thought you were waiting for me in the car- 
 riage." 
 
 "No, indeed," answered our hostess; *'you 
 don't suppose I should have allowed her to sit 
 there while you and I were having our usual 
 gossip." 
 
56 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 '' Oh, it wouldn't have hurt her," he said 
 carelessly ; " but it was very kind of you to 
 ask her to come in." He smiled as he spoke, 
 and looked more cheerful than usual. 
 
 Lady Constance looked again at him, then 
 answered graciously : " The kindness was to me. 
 We have been making acquaintance." She 
 glanced from him to me as she spoke, and I, 
 thinking she would expect some answer in 
 return, felt confused. How could I say that 
 she was the most charming, the most graceful 
 person thab I had ever seen ? I coloured ner- 
 vously and said nothing. 
 
 " So you really find Leopold better ? " she 
 asked, changing the subject abruptly. 
 
 " Yes, to-day he is, certainly. But he varies 
 a great deal, as you know, and the nature of 
 his complaint is deceitful. However, if you 
 intend to go out, I advise you to go at once 
 before the day grows too late. It is perfec- 
 tion now for driving." 
 
 " Yes, it is," she answered, looking out of 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 5 7 
 
 the window as slie spoke, but not as if she 
 cared to go out. " Please don't go," she added ; 
 " tea will be brought in, in ten minutes, if you 
 can wait that length of time." 
 
 " I am afraid not," said my father, " I have 
 to see another patient before I go home, and it 
 is already growing late. Besides, it is time that 
 you should be starting if you are going out 
 with your husband. Come, Ella, you must say 
 good-bye." And in spite of a certain expression 
 of disappointment which clouded the lady's 
 face, he rose and prepared to take leave. 
 
 " You will come again and see me, I hope," 
 she said, as she held out her hand at parting ; 
 "and remember the next time, that I shall 
 not allow you to run away so soon," she added 
 playfully. 
 
 " Then I am afraid she must not come out 
 with me," said my father. '' Run on, my 
 child, to the carriage ; I am coming directly." 
 
 Thinking that he wished to have some pro- 
 fessional conversation, I left the room, and 
 
58 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 made my way out to the brougham ; but I bad 
 hardly seated myself before I remembered that 
 I had left my parasol upon the sofa where I 
 had at first sat upon my entrance into the 
 house. 
 
 I was too shy to indicate to the tall, im- 
 posing-looking servant that I wished to speak 
 to him ; so I stepped out of the carriage and 
 stealthily Ade my way back to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 My father and Lady Constance stood by the 
 mantel-piece talking, and both had their backs 
 turned towards me as I entered. I could not 
 hear a word of their conversation, which was 
 low and earnest, but I gathered sufficient infor- 
 mation from their faces to make sure that it 
 was not intended for my ears. Then I stole 
 back guiltily, having possessed myself of the 
 parasol which was lying on the sofa just within 
 the door, wondering, as I did so, what Sir Leo- 
 pold's complaint could be which required so 
 many parting instructions. By the time that 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 59 
 
 my father readied the carriage I was comfort- 
 ably seated once more ; the billowy muslin fell 
 gracefully over my knees as before, as I leaned 
 back against the cushions. One more parting 
 now, and we were off. 
 
 Then the string of my tongue became 
 loosened, and I poured forth my delight in 
 babbling excitement. 
 
 " Dear Father ! " I exclaimed, seizing his 
 hand with warmth, '^ how kind of you to take 
 me to this nice house ! And how charming 
 Lady Constance is ! — but it seems so strange 
 that you should never have said anything about 
 her when you appear to know her so well." 
 
 My father smiled, perhaps with amusement 
 at my vehemence. " It would not do for me 
 to speak of all my patients, dear child," he said 
 gently. 
 
 "No, of course not; but of this one you 
 might. How pretty she is, and how graceful ! 
 How old do you suppose she is. Father dear?" 
 
 " Oh, not very young," he answered care- 
 
60 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 lessly ; " more than thirty, I should think ; 
 quite an old woman to you, Ella." 
 
 " No, not at all ; she does not look old. She 
 is so young and fresh in her manner, and so 
 very very kind. I don't think I ever met with 
 anyone with whom I felt so intimate at first. 
 Is she always as nice when you know her ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," replied my father. '' I 
 am glad you have taken such a fancy to her, 
 because, if you like, you may go and see her 
 again." 
 
 "I should like to know her immensely," I 
 said warmly, " and I thought it was so good 
 of her to ask me to visit her. It must be on 
 your account. Father dear; you always make 
 yourself so popular." 
 
 He laughed at this as if pleased at ray flat- 
 tery : "Of course in one's professional capacity 
 one becomes much more intimate than an 
 ordinary visitor, my dear, and I have attended 
 the family now for many years. I was with 
 Sir Leopold's father and mother when they 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 61 
 
 died; naturally I am no stranger to them." 
 Then his face clouded over a little, and I feared 
 he was going to relapse into one of his fits of 
 silence, which I was anxious to prevent, feeling 
 so talkative myself. 
 
 "Do tell me some more," I said, twining my 
 fingers round his slender hand, which looked 
 lamentably transparent beside my own plump 
 palm, now rendered more so by the effect of 
 my tight-fitting kid glove. '' I want to know 
 all about them. Have they any children, or 
 do they live alone in that great big house ? " 
 
 ''They have one child — a little boy," said 
 my father. " I am surprised that you did 
 not see him, for he is usually with his 
 mother." 
 
 " No ; she was alone all the time, so that 
 I had her undivided attention myself. And I 
 assure you I found it very pleasant. She 
 talked to me so naturally, you know, and asked 
 me all about mj home and my companions, 
 and so forth." 
 
62 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 " And you told her all your troubles, I sup- 
 pose, and confessed that you had such hard- 
 hearted parents that they would not allow you 
 to know anybody." 
 
 " No, no ; I didn't do that quite, because it 
 would not be true. We do know some people, 
 a good many, in fact, although we know no- 
 body well. But I did tell her that I had no 
 companions except my sisters." 
 
 " And did she pity you very much ? " 
 
 ''No; she only said ' Oh.' I thought it was 
 as well to say that it was your wish ; otherwise 
 she might have thought that the fault was our 
 own." 
 
 "You might have excepted the Thorburns, 
 might you not ?" said my father ; "you see 
 them occasionally, don't you ? " 
 
 "Not very often," I answered; ''I have 
 only been there once since I came home, 
 though they have been twice to see me. I 
 thought, if we had time, I should run in now 
 after our drive. I don't want them to think 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 63 
 
 me ill-natured, and, after all, we did know 
 them well wlien we were children." 
 
 " Yes ; you must not drop them entirely," 
 said my father in an encouraging tone. " Mrs. 
 Thorburn was asking for you a few days ago. 
 She has been very poorly, and I think she 
 would be glad to see you. I am going to pay 
 her a visit now, so you had better defer yours 
 till to-morrow." 
 
 " Yery well," I answered cheerfully, feeling 
 that T could afPord to be gracious ; '^ you may 
 tell her that I will come in to-morrow after- 
 noon, and that I am sorry to hear that she is 
 not well." 
 
 In this amiable frame of mind I arrived at 
 home, determined to be pleased with every- 
 thing around me, and not to allow the spirit 
 of discontent to mar the effect of my pleasant 
 visit. But I had to school myself to this, as 
 the sight of my own rather dingy-looking home 
 met my eye, and contrasted so painfully with 
 the fairyland of flowers and ornaments which 
 
64 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I had just left. My motlier was sitting at the 
 parlour window, sewing, and looked up with 
 a smile of greeting before she came to the door 
 to meet me. 
 
 " Well, my child, have you had a pleasant 
 drive ? " she asked, as she kissed me. 
 
 " Yes, mother ; a most delightful drive. 
 And where do you think we have been to? " 
 
 " I don't know, I 'm sure, Ella." 
 
 " To Milford House," I said eagerly. 
 
 My mother's face flushed slightly. 
 
 " Have you, indeed ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes ; and Lady Constance is the most 
 delightful person I ever saw. She has asked 
 me to go again soon." 
 
 " Really ? Yery condescending of her, I 'm 
 sure," said my mother, in a tone which seemed 
 to imply the reverse ; but I would not see it. 
 
 " Yes, I think it was ; and so I 'm going." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said my mother again, and 
 I could not tell whether she was angry or 
 pleased, or a little of both. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 65 
 
 I broke away from her and ran upstairs. 
 My ardour was damped at this reception of 
 my news. No wonder that we had not friends 
 when their intended kindness was so chillingly 
 responded to. And my mother was unkind 
 as well as proud, for she allowed the effect of 
 her pride to fall upon her children. But I 
 would not be daunted by her manner ; I would 
 take the sweets of life as they fell to me. Lady 
 Constance had asked me to visit her, and I 
 would do so. Who could tell to what the ac- 
 quaintance might lead ? At any rate it 
 was better than living on in obscurity, as I 
 was at present, unknown, unheeded, and un- 
 cared for. The very thought made the tears 
 fill my eyes. No ; I would fulfil the destiny 
 which heaven had intended for me. I would 
 know Lady Constance Milford. 
 
6Q THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE THOEBUENS. 
 
 "Life, indeed, is not 
 The thing we planned it out . . . 
 And then, we women cannot choose our lot." 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 I MADE no complaint to my mother about the 
 conduct which I had so much resented in her, 
 and tried not to allow my feelings to become 
 apparent in my behaviour. But I was deter- 
 mined to maintain a strict reserve about the 
 lady whose manner I had found so charming ; 
 and as my mother asked me no questions, 
 rather to my disappointment, this resolution 
 was easily adhered to for the space of twenty- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 67 
 
 four hours. The next morning I had time to 
 indulge in day-dreams, for she seemed longer 
 than usual over her household occupations ; 
 and as I sat at the needlework with which my 
 fingers were employed, my busy fancy was 
 weaving a wonderful web of life, in which all its 
 intricacies proved only to be a plain path leading 
 to the centre of my hopes. What those hopes 
 were, was rather indefinable, even to myself, 
 except that they were forerunners of something 
 which was very delightful, and served to lift my 
 heart above the petty cares from which, like all 
 the rest of the world, I was not wholly free. 
 
 I had not forgotten my promise to visit Mrs. 
 Thorburn, and, accordingly, surprised my 
 mother in the afternoon by announcing my in- 
 tention of doing so. 
 
 " It is so long since I was there," I added, 
 " and it seems she was asking Father about me; 
 so, as you have to go out with Mildred, I might 
 as well take this opportunity." 
 
 **Yes, certainly," said my mother, in a 
 
 5 * 
 
6S THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 pleased voice. '' I am sure Mrs. Thorburn will 
 be glad to have you, and especially if you go 
 in alone. If I were to go also, she might think 
 that I had induced you to do so." 
 
 " Yery well," I said, laughing, " then we will 
 suffer no unworthy motive to have weight in 
 my breast. I am going to give Mrs. Thorburn 
 the pleasure of my company, and to enjoy that 
 of hers." 
 
 But as I put on the pretty little hat which 
 my own fingers had manufactured, I secretly 
 wished that it might be Lady Constance Mil- 
 ford whom I was going to visit, and not my 
 humble friend. If I could only meet her upon 
 any other terms than that of an equal I should 
 be better satisfied ; but after knowing her, as I 
 had, from my infancy, how could I patronise her 
 as an inferior ? I trotted down the street at a 
 brisk pace, and, in a minute or so, found my- 
 self at the ironmonger's door. He was busy 
 himself, serving a customer, as I entered, but 
 had time to give me a hearty nod of recog- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 69 
 
 nition in token of friendliness, while I crossed 
 to the other side and asked of George, the son, 
 if his mother was at home. On his answer in 
 the affirmative I made my way to the back of 
 the shop, and through the door which led to- 
 wards the staircase, up which I had to pass to 
 reach the parlour above. As I ascended, I 
 glanced momentarily through the window which 
 was partially the means of imparting light to 
 the back passage, and then I saw that the 
 stranger whom Mr. Thorburn was serving was 
 looking at me as I did so. He was a tall, fine- 
 looking man about thirty, whose face was quite 
 unfamiliar to me, and he appeared to be buying 
 a pair of spurs ; but conscious of his gaze, I 
 hastily ran upstairs, and lost sight of him 
 instantly. 
 
 Mrs. Thorburn was sitting in the parlour 
 by her sewing - machine, while her eldest 
 daughter, Annie, was employed in making 
 button-holes in some new shirt-fronts. They 
 both looked up at my entrance and smiled. 
 
70 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 and then Annie rose from her seat and came 
 towards me. She was a tall, big girl, with a 
 sallow complexion, and snub nose, but she 
 had a good-natured expression, and spoke 
 kindly. 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Ella," she said, 
 shaking hands with me warmly, and I think 
 she would have kissed me if I had shown any 
 willingness for such an act of demonstration. 
 " You are quite a stranger to us now, it is so 
 long since you have been here. Kate and 
 Ellen are out, I am sorry to say." 
 
 " Indeed ? that 's unfortunate, for I cannot 
 stay very long. But I came to see you, Mrs. 
 Thorburn ; I was sorry to hear that you were 
 not well." 
 
 " No love, thank you. I*ve had the neu- 
 ralgia very bad lately ; but it 's better now, 
 thank God." 
 
 '' Yes, mother was quite ill with it," said 
 Annie ; " we were obliged to send for the doctor 
 to her, before it left her." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 71 
 
 " Yes, it 's a nasty pain is neuralgia,'* said 
 the mother. " But how are you my dear, your- 
 self, and the family ? '' 
 
 " Oh, we are all very well, thanks," I 
 answered rather curtly. " How lovely the 
 weather is just now ! I went for such a 
 pleasant drive yesterday with Father." 
 
 The remembrance of it was so fresh in my 
 mind that it seemed but natural to give utter- 
 ance to my thoughts ; but Mrs. Thorburn could 
 only half imagine how pleasant that drive had 
 been. 
 
 " Yes, we saw you pass tbe window," said 
 Annie ; and Mrs. Thorburn remarked at the 
 same time, " And it does you good, my dear, to 
 have your Pa's society a little." 
 
 I did not know what Mrs. Thorburn meant 
 to insinuate by this remark, or whether she 
 pitied my loneliness; but fearful that she 
 would follow it up by proposing to see more 
 of me, I cast about in my mind for another 
 topic which would prove as interesting, and 
 
72 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 plunged into a description of the country as it 
 appeared to me yesterday. But her attention 
 was evidently not riveted by my eloquent 
 narration of the beauties of nature ; for while 
 I was speaking she was gazing out of the win- 
 dow, and following her eyes I became aware of 
 the object which attracted them. A horse 
 was tied before the door, which must have been 
 standing there as I came in, but which I had 
 not observed upon my hurried entrance. Now, 
 however, the gentleman whom I had seen in 
 the shop as I passed through it, came out, and 
 after a few minutes' delay in fitting the spurs 
 which he had just purchased, mounted the horse 
 and rode away, not without one or two glances 
 in the direction of our window. 
 
 Of course I could not be so rude as to stare, 
 though I really longed to see what he was 
 like, and there were many conjectures from my 
 friends as to who he could possibly be. Mrs. 
 Thorburn was almost sure that she had seen 
 him before, but when or where she could not 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 73 
 
 recollect. We all knew the people of Halton 
 too well to suppose that he was one of them, 
 and Mrs. Thorburn did not scruple to look 
 at and discuss his appearance, much to my 
 annoyance. 
 
 " He 's a fine-looking fellow, my dear, just 
 you look — and has money too, I'll be bound : 
 only see his beautiful ring! " 
 
 ''Oh, Mother, I can't," said Annie, who ap- 
 peared more alive to the situation than her less- 
 discerning mother. '' He'll see us if we stare 
 at him so, and must know that we are talking 
 about him. There, he is looking up," and her 
 sallow face became suddenly crimson as she 
 drew back behind the window. 
 
 " Well, to be sure, you needn't redden up 
 so," said her mother. " He isn't looking at 
 you, I'll bet a penny." And she deliberately 
 bent her head forward, and looked after him 
 as he rode up the street. 
 
 " What odious manners," I thought, dis- 
 gusted, my face scarcely less rosy than Annie's. 
 
74 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " How did I ever come to know these people, 
 and how can I continue to do so ? " I delibe- 
 rately kept silence, hoping that my manner 
 would express the disapprobation which I felt, 
 and pondered in my mind what subject I could 
 speak upon next, which would give mutual in- 
 terest to all parties. It seemed as if we had 
 nothing in common; their knowledge of the 
 world was even less than my own. Neither 
 books, music, nor pictures could interest them, 
 family matters brought us into too close con- 
 tact, and to gossip I would not condescend. 
 
 I was glad when the entrance of the two 
 younger sisters brought a fresh idea into the 
 conversation. They were much nicer-looking 
 girls than Annie, Helen especially, and the 
 colour which they brought in from their fresh 
 country walk made them look almost pretty. 
 I had seen so little of them now for some 
 years that they had grown rather shy with me, 
 which the reserve that I showed towards them 
 generally did not tend to overcome. Like 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 75 
 
 Annie, they seemed anxious to be cordial with- 
 out knowing how to express themselves, and 
 greeted me with a little giggle of rather ner- 
 vous laughter, in token of their pleasure at 
 seeing me. I shook hands with them in a 
 condescending way, remarked upon the beauty 
 of the day, and inquired if they had had a 
 pleasant walk. 
 
 " Yes, very," said Kate, showing a handful of 
 kingcups which she held. " We have been 
 down to the river gathering these. And oh, 
 Ma, what do you think ? There was such a 
 swell there riding about and playing tricks 
 with his horse. I really thought he was doing 
 it on purpose to tease us ; didn't you, Helen ? '* 
 
 " Yes, that I did/' answered her sister, '* for 
 he was prancing about quite close to us, and I 
 thought he'd 'ave run over us, once or twice." 
 
 " Law ! how dangerous ! " exclaimed the 
 mother. 
 
 " No, I don't think so, really," said Kate. 
 " He was only playing, and I think he saw 
 
76 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 we were frightened, for he spoke to us once, 
 and told us not to mind." 
 
 " I daresay he was the very same as has 
 been here," said Annie; " a big man was he, 
 without whiskers ? " 
 
 " Yes, rather big," answered Kate. " He had 
 a thick moustache though — such a beauty it 
 was ! I hope when George has a little more 
 his will be like that." 
 
 " And do you say he spoke to you ? " asked 
 Mrs. Thorburn. "What did he say, my 
 dear ? " 
 
 " Oh, not much," answered Helen as she 
 took off her hat, and smoothed her brown 
 hair with her hands. " He only told us not 
 to be afraid, the horse was all right. Some- 
 thing like that I think it was." 
 
 "Indeed, then it was very polite of him," 
 said the mother. " I wonder whoever he can be. 
 He 's a stranger in Halton, I'm sure. When 
 Pa comes up we'll ask him ; he 's pretty sure to 
 know." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 77 
 
 During this conversation I sat silent, but 
 the prospect of Pa's coming up, no matter how 
 distant it might be, was too much for me to 
 contemplate calmly. He, like the rest of the 
 family, was always disposed to be kind, but 
 was almost too overpowering. There was a 
 swagger about him which all, except George, 
 entirely lacked. The women of the party, 
 though common, were not obtrusively vulgar, 
 but the assumption of his manner was annoying 
 to me beyond expression. As soon as I could 
 rise without showing great signs of haste in my 
 movements, I did so, cordially shaking hands all 
 round, in happy feelings of relief that this visit 
 had come to an end, and mentally resolving that 
 it would be a long time before I paid another. 
 
 I passed a quiet evening with my mother 
 and Mildred — too quiet, perhaps — for I was in 
 no mood to talk. Why was it, I thought, 
 that Heaven had placed me in such a pecu- 
 liar position that the only available friends I 
 had were people with whom it was impossible 
 
78 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 to associate ? I tried to assure myself that I 
 loved my liome and my family, but I could not 
 be contented witli my surroundings. I won- 
 dered if I was very cross, very wrong, or 
 whether it was the trial with which God meant 
 to afflict me. At last, after my little sister had 
 gone to bed, I could bear the silence no longer. 
 My impulsive nature longed for some outlet in 
 which it could unburden its bitterness, and 
 throwing down my book upon the table, I sud- 
 denly exclaimed : 
 
 *' Mother, why is it that we are such unfor- 
 tunate people ? " 
 
 " Unfortunate, Ella ? " she repeated, though 
 her voice trembled slightly ; '' what can you 
 mean, my dear ?" 
 
 " Oh, I mean in everything," I answered. " I 
 know you and Father meant to be very kind 
 in sending me to school, and allowing me to 
 meet with people in another rank of life, but I 
 almost wish you had not done so, Mother.'* 
 
 •' Why, my child ? " 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 79 
 
 '^ Because I feel tliat it lias unsettled me. 
 Perhaps if I had never known anything but 
 Halton manners and Halton ways I should have 
 been contented with them; and now — oh, I 
 can't tell you how discontented I feel." 
 
 '* But it was just that which your Father 
 did not wish, Ella. It was to prevent your 
 becoming accustomed to Halton manners and 
 Halton ways, that he had you sent to school." 
 
 " Yes, and much good it has done. I come 
 back now, and find myself without companions, 
 without friends. Those whom 1 would know 
 will not know me, and those who wish to know 
 me I cannot tolerate." 
 
 My mother winced as if my words caused 
 her pain. '' I am so sorry," she murmured. 
 
 " Yes, but your sorrow does not alter these 
 facts, and you do not seem willing to alter 
 them. When I went to see Lady Constance 
 Milford yesterday, and she asked me to visit 
 her again, I told you of it with all the pleasure 
 that I felt. But you took it so coolly that I 
 
80 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 felt chilled at once, almost as if you were 
 offended with her for giving me the kind invi- 
 tation." 
 
 ''Not at all," said my mother. "On the 
 contrary I was very glad ; nothing would give 
 me greater pleasure than for you to visit her 
 if it will make you happy." 
 
 " Yes, but you do not say it now as if you 
 felt quite cordial about it. I suppose if she 
 asked me to her house it would involve an 
 exchange of visits." 
 
 To this my mother answered nothing. 
 
 " Mother, do you hear what I am saying ? 
 Would you visit Lady Constance Milford your- 
 self?" 
 
 " No, my dear, I would not." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because I could not consent to know any- 
 one on such terms." 
 
 " You mean that you think she will patron- 
 ise us ? " 
 
 " I did not say so." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 81 
 
 *' But you mean it, I know. Well, then, let 
 us visit her upon other terms. Let us call 
 upon her as a friend, and ask her to come and 
 see us." 
 
 My mother smiled a rather bitter smile. 
 *' Make your mind quite easy about that, child ; 
 Lady Constance will never call upon us." 
 
 '' Not if we were to make the house prettier, 
 and spend a little money upon it ? " 
 
 ^' Not if we spent ever so much money 
 upon it." 
 
 The tears filled my eyes, but I brushed them 
 away hastily. " Then, of course, I can't know 
 her," I said huskily 
 
 "Yes, you can," said my mother in an en- 
 couraging tone. " There is nothing to prevent 
 your going there if she asks you to do so. 
 It is so different for me, you see. Besides, I 
 do not care about it." 
 
 But there was not much encouragement in 
 this. 
 
 " It is so unfortunate," I said, " because we 
 I. 6 
 
82 THE SHADOW 0¥ A LIFE. 
 
 seem to have no other friends. Those Thor- 
 burns are very decent people; but fancy our ever 
 having them as acquaintances ! How did we 
 come to know them in the first place ? " 
 
 " It was a long time ago, before you were 
 born, Ella, said my mother. Mr. Thorburn 
 was once very kind to your father, and of 
 course we cannot forget it." 
 
 " How do you mean ? In what way was he 
 kind? Did he lend him money, or save him 
 from drowning, or do anything of that kind ? " 
 
 "Well — something like that,'* said my 
 mother slowly. 
 
 " Oh, if that is all, surely Father could soon 
 pay him, and there would be an end of it." 
 
 '' There are other debts besides those of 
 money," said my mother. 
 
 '' "Well, I daresay dear Father feels very 
 grateful for it all, and perhaps will do a kind- 
 ness for him some day, but that is no reason 
 why we should make bosom friends of them 
 aU." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 83 
 
 " I do not think we do,*' said my mother, 
 flushing, as I thought, rather angrily. " You 
 don't, for one, I'm sure." 
 
 " No, and I don't intend to," I said inde- 
 pendently. " But now we have named two sets 
 of people at each end of the pole, who is there 
 in the middle ? Those stupid, sleepy-looking 
 Glanfords, and Mr. and Mrs. Barton, and the 
 Binbrooks and old Miss Burlington — oh dear, 
 oh dear ! " and I sighed deeply. 
 
 " Well, Ella, I'm very sorry for you," said my 
 mother, but with more reproof than pity in her 
 voice. " It 's very disappointing to your father 
 and me to see you so unsettled now that you 
 have come home. In fact, I don't see what is 
 to be the end of it." 
 
 " Nor I," said I sadly. '' I don't wish to be 
 unsettled, but I can't help it. I feel such a 
 longing desire to be happy and light-hearted ; 
 and sometimes when I am out walking in the 
 lovely green lanes, and hear the birds singing 
 over my head, I could scream out for very 
 
 6 * 
 
84 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 joy. But then when I come home there is the 
 same old sense of something not quite right, 
 and I lose heart in reading or practising my 
 music, when it is all for nothing." 
 
 ''But it need not be for nothing, and we 
 don't wish it to be so," said my mother. " It 
 may prove very useful to you one day." 
 
 " Never : so long as I live here," I said em- 
 phatically. 
 
 " Well, then, how would you like to go and 
 live elsewhere?" said my mother. "How 
 would you like to go out as a companion or a 
 governess to somebody ? " 
 
 " That would depend upon the situation that 
 I found," I answered curtly;"! should not 
 like any menial office." 
 
 " I suppose it would not be more menial for 
 you than it is for thousands of other people 
 who have to earn their bread," said my mother, 
 " and you have been sufficiently well-educated 
 to undertake such a situation." 
 
 I thought we were discussing the subject 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 85 
 
 merely in the abstract, and entered into it. '* I 
 suppose it is not so very dreadful when one is 
 used to it," I remarked. 
 
 '* It need not be dreadful at all," said my 
 mother, " if you live in a family that you like, 
 and at any rate you will have the opportunity 
 of seeing other people besides those of Hal- 
 ton." 
 
 " Mother," I asked, looking up suddenly, 
 " are you serious in all this ? " 
 
 " Yes, my child, certainly. Why should I 
 not be so ? " 
 
 " Because it seems so strange," I said mus- 
 ingly. " I could not fancy myself in such a 
 position." 
 
 '* A great many people who are quite as 
 good as you, have had to fancy it, Ella." 
 
 " Do you mean, then, that you would like me 
 to try the experiment. Would Father like me 
 to do so ? " 
 
 "Yes, why not?" 
 
 "I dont know," I said slowly, " I have never 
 
86 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 thouglit of it ; it seems sucli a new, sudden 
 idea." 
 
 " It is not quite new to us, though," said my 
 mother. " Your father and I have talked it 
 over once or twice lately, especially since we 
 have seen that you were not quite happy at 
 home. But, of course, it is for you to decide 
 whether you would like to try the experi- 
 ment." 
 
 I paused for a moment and reflected. Surely 
 pecuniary difficulties could not have induced 
 my father to think of this ? Perhaps the edu- 
 cation which he had given to us all had told 
 heavily upon his income, and he felt himself 
 obliged to retrench a little. 
 
 "Mother," I asked again, "do you think 
 Father requires me to do this ? Does he want 
 money for — for Mr. Thorburn, or anything?" 
 
 " Well, child, I will not conceal from you 
 that your father has borrowed money from 
 Mr. Thorburn which has not been paid back to 
 him yet. But I do not think that he wants 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 87 
 
 you to go out as a governess on that account 
 only." 
 
 I felt a glow of sensitive pride burning with- 
 in me. Was it possible that we were under obli- 
 gations to this vulgar uneducated man whose 
 family I so despised ? I remembered that my 
 father had rather urged upon me the policy of 
 paying Mrs. Thorburn a visit the day before, 
 and that though he never was very intimate 
 with them himself, he was at any rate cordial 
 and polite. This was possibly the reason, and 
 in my usual impulsive way I immediately 
 jumped to the conclusion as certain. It would 
 be a great consolation to me to know that 
 by my own means this debt could be wiped 
 out. What a satisfaction to feel that it was 
 all over and paid for, and that we could let 
 them down as we wished to do ! I thought 
 over it for some minutes, during which my 
 mother preserved perfect silence, as if she, 
 too, were pondering the subject. Then I 
 spoke again, but cautiously, fearful that any 
 
88 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 sudden resolve should be looked upon as 
 decisive. 
 
 " I should like to think about this, dear 
 Mother. If you and Father have already made 
 up your minds about it, why, I may as well do 
 so ; but I shall be able to come to a better con- 
 clusion in a day or two, and meantime you can 
 tell him that you have spoken to me." 
 
 " Very well, Ella." That was all she said; 
 just like my mother's usual decisive manner, 
 which it must be owned I thought rather un- 
 satisfactory. " If she would only tell me what 
 she wishes herself," I thought, '' it would be 
 so much easier for me to act upon her advice " ; 
 but it was evident that this was to be her 
 final remark, unless I brought forth another by 
 more agitating questions. I felt far from being 
 satisfied by the turn which the conversation 
 had taken. To be a governess would certainly 
 be a new form of existence, but it was not 
 altogether a palatable notion as yet. It would 
 possibly take me into a new sphere of action, 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 89 
 
 and give me other ideas of life, but they might 
 not be any pleasanter than those which I had 
 at present. I wondered if my pupils would be 
 likely to treat me as I had too often treated 
 Miss Marks, and something very like remorse 
 smote my breast for those old childish naughti- 
 nesses. Perhaps I, too, might have impertinence 
 to tolerate, or insubordination to correct ; I, 
 who could not even* manage my own wayward, 
 troublesome self. 
 
 " Good-night, Mother," I said, rising sud- 
 denly, " I think I will go to bed now, and you 
 may tell Father what we have been talking 
 about when he comes in." 
 
 But when I held up my face to give her the 
 kiss which was already formed upon my lips, 
 I saw that her eyes were wet with tears, and 
 that she was struggling for mastery over her- 
 self. 
 
 '' Why; Mother," I asked, " do I make you 
 cry? I am so sorry." And I put my arm 
 affectionately round her. 
 
90 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Good-night, my child,'' she answered tremu- 
 lously, " God bless you. I am sorry that I can't 
 make you happier." And then, her lips quiver- 
 ing, she sat down again upon the chair from 
 which she had risen, and took up the work 
 which was lying upon the table beside her. 
 
 " Oh, Mother," I said reproachfully, " don't 
 speak so. You do make me happy, and I do 
 love my home. It is not with you that I am 
 discontented, but only with myself." Then I 
 kissed her again, murmuring soft words of 
 affection ; and taking up my candle, departed, 
 wondering as I wandered up the staircase why 
 the world seemed so full of contradictions and 
 snares and petty trials, and why our hearts 
 were such troublesome things that we were 
 always longing for that which we could not 
 get. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 91 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ANOTHER ASPECT OF LIFE. 
 
 " How sweet are looks that ladies bend on whom their 
 favours fall." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 About a week after this, I was sitting in tlie 
 drawing-room with Mildred, when my father 
 entered the room with a note in his hand. It 
 proved to be from Lady Constance Milford, 
 and was addressed to myself, requesting that I 
 would lunch with her on the following day. 
 
 My face flushed with delight. I was almost 
 afraid that she had forgotten her invitation to 
 me, for a whole week had elapsed without my 
 
92 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 having heard from her, during which I had 
 only caught a glimpse of her in church. Upon 
 that occasion she had not even glanced towards 
 me, and I had followed her down the aisle and 
 through the church-door without obtaining so 
 much as a bow of recognition. But the note 
 was very graciously expressed, hoping to see 
 me early, and offering to call for me in the 
 carriage at one o'clock. I read the note over 
 once or twice, and then consigned it to my 
 pocket, wondering, as I did so, how I should 
 break the news to my mother and what she 
 would think of it. Since that evening the 
 week before, we had not mentioned the un- 
 pleasant subject which was then under discus- 
 sion, nor had the idea of my being a governess 
 been proposed a second time. I felt, therefore, 
 a little shy in speaking of Lady Constance, not 
 being quite sure of my position towards her. 
 But I had been very dull lately, and the sight 
 of this note seemed as a bright spot in the 
 landscape which surrounded me, in which, but 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 93 
 
 for that, everything looked cloudy. Besides 
 I had no time to refuse, for she would be 
 expecting me, and would perhaps make some 
 arrangement before the morning's post could 
 reach her, and the prospect of another such 
 visit as I had paid her the week before was too 
 delightful to voluntarily relinquish. I there- 
 fore decided to accept the invitation, and imme- 
 diately began planning what my dress was to 
 be. Into this important discussion my little 
 sister was drawn, whose admiration for myself 
 was one of her chief points of attractiveness. 
 
 " Could you wear your white dress, Ella, 
 with the blue ribbons ? " she asked, '' or would 
 that be too dressy ? or what do you think of 
 your clean muslin ? it only came home from 
 the wash on Monday, and it is so beautifully 
 goffered. Yes, wear that, do, — I know you 
 will look lovely in it, and perhaps when Lady 
 Constance sees you she will ask you to stay a 
 week with her." 
 
 A little thrill went though me at my sister's 
 
94 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 words, though I was far from supposing that 
 such a prospect was in store for me. 
 
 " Very well, Millie," I answered patronis- 
 ingly. " I will wear my blue muslin, and you 
 shall help me to dress to-morrow if you are very 
 good. Perhaps your turn may come, you know, 
 some day, and you may be asked to Milford 
 also, so you see how important it is to behave 
 nicely." 
 
 "When my mother entered the room I drew 
 the note from my pocket and handed it to her 
 without speaking. I watched her furtively as 
 she read it, and then, folding it up, handed it 
 back to me, her face a little flushed, though I 
 could not tell why. 
 
 " Well, Mother ? " I said at length, seeing 
 that she did not speak. 
 
 '' Well, Ella." 
 
 '' Am I to go ? " I asked, nettled at being 
 thus obliged to do so before she would give an 
 opinion. 
 
 *' Yes, certainly ; by all means." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 95 
 
 " You would really like it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I wish you to go : I should be very 
 sorry if you refused." 
 
 " Then that is all right," I said in a relieved 
 tone as she left the room, untying the strings 
 of her bonnet as she went. 
 
 The next day I was ready long before the 
 time appointed, and with Mildred for my maid 
 began to dress about eleven o'clock, so fearful 
 was I of keeping Lady Constance waiting. I 
 had felt in such a flutter of expectancy all the 
 morning that I hardly knew what to do with 
 myself, could *' settle to nothing," as my 
 mother expressed it, and forgot to cover the 
 jam with which she had charged me the day 
 before. Mildred pirouetted about me in her 
 eager desire to give assistance, now dancing to 
 the other side of the room to see the effect of 
 my sash, then coming closer to give it another 
 finishing touch, which she had already done 
 about a dozen times in the course of our 
 operations. Finally the glass was placed upon 
 
96 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 the floor in order tliat I might see whether the 
 skirt had a proper '' set," and we went through 
 a pantomime of shaking hands, wherein Mildred 
 acted the part of a very small countess in 
 short petticoats and rather shabby shoes. In 
 the midst of our preparations a message was 
 brought upstairs by the servant to the effect 
 that Kate Thorburn was in the drawing-room 
 and would like to see me, but I was on the 
 point of visiting an earl's daughter and had no 
 time to bestow upon her, so I sent word that I 
 was much engaged and could not possibly see 
 her. I wondered if there would be great sen- 
 sation at the window over the shop when 
 I passed in Lady Constance's carriage, but I 
 could not go down to the drawing-room to be 
 put through a string of cross-questions from 
 Kate's busy tongue. I therefore ensconced 
 myself upon one of the old-fashioned window- 
 seats to watch for the arrival of the carriage, 
 and before long my patience was rewarded by 
 the sight of the black, spirited horses dashing 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 97 
 
 up the street. My heart bounded as I sprang 
 down the narrow staircase just as the thunder- 
 ing knock came to the door ; and popping my 
 head inside the drawing-room, I gave a brief 
 nod, and departed, unheeding my mother's en- 
 treaty that I would come in and let her have 
 a look at me. 
 
 '' This is very good of you," was her lady- 
 ship's kind greeting as I stepped into the 
 carriage. '' You have not kept us waiting a 
 moment. May I introduce my husband ? Sir 
 Leopold Milford — Miss Hamilton." 
 
 A pale, delicate-looking man, of apparently 
 two or three and thirty, put out a limp hand 
 for me to shake, bowing slightly as he did so ; 
 though at the same time he looked kindly at 
 me, as if he felt some interest above that which 
 the listless greeting would betoken. I ner- 
 vously avoided his glance and turned to Lady 
 Constance who was already talking gaily, and 
 so soon felt interested in her conversation that 
 I forgot we were driving though the High 
 I. 7 
 
98 THE SHADOW 0¥ A LIFE. 
 
 Street, or my intention of looking up at the 
 ironmonger's window. 
 
 After a drive of three or four miles we 
 arrived at Milford House, by which time T felt 
 quite at my ease with this new friend, and 
 found myself chattering freely. A servant 
 assisted Sir Leopold to alight, and he walked 
 feebly up to the door and into the drawing- 
 room, where he sat down as if quite overcome, 
 and panting with the exertion. I felt almost 
 alarmed, and wondered what could be the 
 matter with him, but Lady Constance was 
 apparently accustomed to seeing him so, for 
 she took but little notice, and talked much as 
 usual. 
 
 " Would you like to come upstairs ? " she 
 asked kindly, after we had remained seated for 
 a few minutes. " Luncheon will be ready 
 soon." And she led the way herself up the old 
 oak staircase. 
 
 A little childish voice sounded in our ears as 
 we ascended. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 99 
 
 "Mother," it cried, ''Mother, have 'oo 
 come home ? I'm tomin to meet 'oo.'' 
 
 " Oh, there 's Leo, my little boy," she said, 
 going forward from the landing. '' Yes, my 
 darling, here I am. Have you been very 
 good ? " 
 
 " Yeth, Mother," answered the child. 
 
 " Well, then, I have brought a young lady 
 to see you. Come and say ' How do you do ? ' 
 to her. She is a friend of mine, her name is 
 — ^what is your name. Miss Hamilton ? " 
 
 "Ella," I answered, "a name that I like 
 much better than Miss Hamilton. Will you 
 call me ' Ella,' Leo ? " 
 
 " Yeth." 
 
 " And what is your name ? " 
 
 " Leopold Thtuart Milford," he repHed. 
 
 Lady Constance laughed. " I am sure you 
 do not understand that," she said. " Leopold 
 Stuart Milford, but only Leo to his Mother." 
 
 " Only Leo to Mother," he echoed. 
 
 " And now, will you show this young lady 
 
 7 * 
 
100 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE, 
 
 to a room where site may take off her hat? 
 Shall she go into the south room ? " 
 
 " Yeth." 
 
 He trotted before me till we reached the 
 room indicated, which I found was situated in 
 the wing surmounted by the tall turret, so 
 visible an object from the surrounding country; 
 and here I was left for a few minutes alone. 
 
 I descended the stairs just in time for 
 luncheon, and came into the drawing-room to 
 find another stranger present besides Sir Leo- 
 pold. A tall man with thick moustache and 
 fair hair, eyes in which one could read tho- 
 rough good-temper and honesty, and a pleasant 
 hearty manner, totally free from affectation. 
 One glance sufl&ced to show me that he was 
 the person whose appearance had been so de- 
 scanted upon in my recent visit to the Thor- 
 burns ; and at the recollection of it I blushed 
 to the roots of my hair. It was evident that 
 he recognised me also. What could he have 
 thought of me if he supposed that I had taken 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. lOX 
 
 part in the discussion which, must have been 
 so palpable to him ? The remembrance made 
 me uneasy, and not the less so because I 
 felt that I was making it apparent. Bowing 
 stiffly, I sought the first chair which came to 
 me, casting my eyes down to the floor, con- 
 scious that he must observe my stupidity. It 
 did not appear to cause him any feelings of 
 uneasiness, however, for he was talking with 
 Sir Leopold about the merits of game as an 
 article of food, and appealed to me as to my 
 preference. As I had hardly ever tasted any, 
 unless it was sent to us as a present by some 
 of my father's patients, I felt that my authority 
 was not great upon the subject, and so my 
 first speech was blunderingly spoken, and I 
 was too conscious of it to attempt any remedy. 
 But the entrance of Lady Constance put me 
 right in a very short time, for she came in just 
 then, saying in her pretty voice : 
 
 " I hope you have been introduced to my 
 cousin. Captain Douglas — Miss Hamilton," 
 
102 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 regardless of his remonstrance, " Oli, my dear 
 Constance, we have done all that long ago." 
 
 Their playful manner made me feel less con- 
 scious, and by the time that we were half-way 
 through luncheon I found that I was able to 
 put together a tolerably long sentence without 
 blushing or faltering. Sir Leopold was the 
 quietest of the party. He really seemed ill 
 and depressed, and I felt sad and sorry for 
 him. 
 
 " Do you ride, Miss Hamilton," he asked, as 
 if by way of conversation rather than interest 
 in my pursuits ; and to my answer that I was 
 very fond of it, but had little opportunity 
 of indulging in the exercise, he continued : 
 " That is something like myself. I, too, am 
 very fond of it, and used to ride a great deal, 
 but that was before I had a heart," and here 
 he smiled feebly. 
 
 Lady Constance laughed. " Why Leopold, 
 you are alarming Miss Hamilton. She will 
 think you a sort of ogre. He only means 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 103 
 
 that he used to ride before he was ill ; for now, 
 unfortunately, he cannot do so at all." 
 
 " No, indeed," he said sadly, *' nor do any- 
 thing else, I am afraid." 
 
 *' I am so sorry," I said warmly, my com- 
 passion aroused. I longed to say '* Do let me 
 help to amuse you," but could not dare to do 
 so, and yet the sight of his suffering, sad face 
 quite depressed me. 
 
 " Thank you," he said gently, while Lady 
 Constance added, " Do you sing or play. Miss 
 Hamilton ? My husband is passionately fond 
 of music." 
 
 '' Yes," I answered, glad to be of service, 
 *' 1 both sing and play a little." 
 
 " Then we will call for some music after 
 luncheon. We all love music here, don't we, 
 Claude?" 
 
 This was addressed to Captain Douglas, who 
 responded heartily, and to whom I ventured 
 at last to lift my eyes without fear of grow- 
 ing uncomfortable. 
 
104 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Perhaps you will sing for us after lun- 
 cheon?" lie said, echoing Lady Constance's 
 words, and looking at me as he spoke. 
 
 ''I shall be very happy to do so," I said 
 stiffly. 
 
 Lady Constance twined her arm within mine 
 as we left the dining-room, and said in a low 
 voice : " Miss Hamilton, may I be permitted 
 to take a great liberty ? " 
 
 " In what way ? " I asked, surprised. I could 
 not fancy her doing anything but what was 
 charming and gracious. 
 
 " May I call you by your christian name ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly." I flushed with pleasure. 
 And this was the lady my mother would not 
 know for fear of her patronage. What could be 
 a greater proof of her desire to know me inti- 
 mately ? 
 
 " Do," I repeated, smiling, " I should like it 
 so much." 
 
 " Yery well. And this may be our com- 
 pact." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 105 
 
 She kissed me upon my cheek while I felt a 
 thrill of delight pervade me. What could be a 
 greater mark of friendship ? I longed to throw 
 my arms round her neck in return, to say or 
 do something which should show her what I 
 thought of her, but after this she only walked 
 the length of the drawing-room, opened the 
 grand piano which stood at the end of the 
 room, and then seated herself upon an otto- 
 man, taking her little dog upon her lap who 
 had been lying upon the rug. 
 
 " I will not ask you to sing just yet," 
 she said, " it is too soon to do so. My cousin 
 will be in directly, and then we can have some 
 music." 
 
 Then I saw that her own face was slightly 
 flushed, and that she spoke nervously I hoped 
 she had not already repented of her kind 
 action. 
 
 Captain Douglas came in shortly after with 
 Sir Leopold, and took his seat near me. I 
 soon found, from his conversation, that he was 
 
106 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 a brother of the Mr. Douglas whom my old 
 school-friend Mary Leslie had mentioned, and 
 who lived at Wentworth ; and that he, also, 
 was stationed there with his regiment. He 
 was not handsome, not even good-looking, but 
 there was an easy man- of -the- world air about 
 him which I admired. I had seen but few men 
 in my short, unsophisticated life, and this man 
 was quite unlike anyone else whom I had met. 
 And yet there was a coolness about him which 
 I did not altogether understand. I was not 
 sure whether he wanted to be friendly or 
 familiar; and though I liked his manner, did 
 not feel certain whether I ought to respond to, 
 or to resent it. 
 
 '' So you live in Halton, Miss Hamilton," he 
 said, cutting the leaves of a periodical beside 
 him with a pocket paper-knife. " Rum little 
 place, ain't it ? " 
 
 Now I did not know what to answer to this 
 question. It was true that I felt ashamed to 
 acknowledge that I did live in Halton, and 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 107 
 
 considered it worse even than " a rum little 
 place," but to liear another person express 
 such an opinion upon it chafed me sorely. 
 
 " Yes," I replied stiffly, " I do live in Halton." 
 
 And Lady Constance supplemented my 
 answer with her own. *' Yes, Claude, you know 
 Miss Hamilton lives in Halton. I should think 
 she would resent such an opinion expressed 
 about her birthplace." 
 
 "Not at all," I then said more amiably, " I 
 am not very fond of Halton myself, although I 
 do live there. I can understand that it would 
 strike a stranger as being very unlike other 
 places." 
 
 Then he laughed and apologised, which 
 made the sting a little more poignant. 
 
 *'You have lived there for a long time, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, ever since I was born ; but my 
 sister is at school, or rather, she is staying 
 with a school-friend before she returns to us 
 for the holidays, and my brother has not come 
 
108 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 home yet. We are expecting them both very 
 soon, but in the meantime we are rather dull 
 without them." 
 
 " Your brother is at college, is he not ? '* 
 asked Sir Leopold. 
 
 " Yes," I replied. " The vacation has begun, 
 I believe, more than a fortnight ago, but he is 
 still away ; in London, I think, about some 
 business," I added frankly. 
 
 *' Yes, so I understand," said Sir Leopold, as 
 if this information was no news to him. " He 
 is older than you, I think, is he not ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, he is twenty-one, and really seems 
 older, he is so sensible. I am sure my father 
 thinks more of him than he does of us all." 
 
 " An unusual circumstance," chimed in Cap- 
 tain Douglas. " Mine always thought more of 
 his girls, didn't he. Con ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered playfully; "but I 
 should think you hardly expect to be ranked 
 with your sisters, so superior as they are to 
 you in every way." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 109 
 
 " Thanks," he answered with mock gravity. 
 "Don't you think my sisters must be very 
 nice, Miss Hamilton ? " 
 
 "Yery," I replied laconically, not knowing 
 what answer was expected to such a remark. 
 
 " Well, so they are. My sister Helen is 
 awfully good ; and I, being the Benjamin of the 
 family, am naturally the one who comes in for 
 most lectures." 
 
 " I will not allow such a libel to be passed 
 upon your sister Helen," said Lady Constance, 
 smiling. " If she does read you lectures, she 
 utterly fails in her endeavours to make you as 
 good as you ought to be." 
 
 Helen — Helen Douglas — Aunt Helen ! The 
 name sounded familiar to me. 
 
 ** I have heard of her, I think," I said to 
 Lady Constance. 
 
 "Indeed?" she said quickly, while a deep 
 blush overspread her face ; " from whom ? " 
 
 " From her niece, Mary Leslie, who was a 
 friend of mine at school," I answered, a little 
 
110 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 annoyed at her manner. Was there anything 
 so surprising in this circumstance ? 
 
 "Oh yes, I forgot," she said in an altered 
 voice. '' You were at school with the Leslies, 
 were you not ? " 
 
 " With Mary ? " asked Captain Douglas. 
 
 " Yes," I answered boldly. " She was a great 
 friend of mine. I used to stay with her some- 
 times in the holidays. I have heard her men- 
 tion her uncle at Wentworth Court — ^your 
 brother." 
 
 '' Indeed ? Mary is a good little girl," said 
 Captain Douglas, patronisingly. " But are we 
 going to have any music, Miss Hamilton ? I 
 think we were promised some." 
 
 I went to the piano in answer to this 
 appeal, and played a waltz, and then a short 
 piece of music. Afterwards I sang a simple 
 ballad which I could play without my notes, 
 and which did not give me much trouble to 
 render expressively, as I had been well taught 
 at school. 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. Ill 
 
 " That is delicious," murmured Sir Leopold, 
 words wliicli I felt to be true praise from the 
 manner in which thej were spoken. When I 
 concluded I saw his mild blue eyes resting 
 upon mj face as they had looked at me in the 
 carriage, and I was glad that I had given him 
 so much pleasure. I was not allowed to rise 
 for some time, for he evidently enjoyed my 
 performance, and it was a new feeling to me to 
 have my music appreciated. Lady Constance 
 then sang in a rich powerful voice, such as I 
 should have expected her to have from her 
 manner of speaking; and then her cousin was 
 called upon, who, after making several mock 
 excuses, went to the piano, and rolled out a 
 little French bravura song. His was a fine 
 voice, but it was evident that he did not care 
 about the song which he was singing, and 
 after one or two false chords in conclusion 
 he sprang up from the piano, declaring that he 
 could not remember anything more. At this 
 juncture little Leo, who had just returned from 
 
112 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 an expedition which he had been taking with 
 his nurse, entered the room and ran towards 
 his father, regardless of Captain Douglas' 
 entreaty that he would patronize his services. 
 
 '' Turn and sit upon Tousin Taude's knee," 
 he said, " and make a pony of him," at the 
 same time indicating that there was a knee 
 at his disposal for the purpose of equestrian 
 exercise. 
 
 *' No, thank 'oo," answered the child. '' I 
 with to thit with Father," and he clambered up 
 to the sofa upon which Sir Leopold was sitting, 
 and nestled close to his side. 
 
 '* Are 'oo better, Father ? " he asked, turning 
 his little face towards him, as if by that means 
 he would be more enabled to read the expres- 
 sion of his father's face. 
 
 '' Yes, Leo — always better when I have my 
 little son with me," was the reply. '' Are you 
 going to stay for a little while and listen to 
 Miss Hamilton's singing? " 
 
 " Ith that Mith Hamilton ? " asked the little 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 118 
 
 boy in his lisping voice, pointing at me with 
 his small finger. '* Her yeal name 's Ella, 
 you know." 
 
 *' Yes, so it is. But still she is Miss 
 Hamilton, Mr. Hamilton's daughter — your 
 good, kind doctor, who made you well when 
 you had the measles." 
 
 " Yeth," said the child, as if in joyful recol- 
 lection, '* when I had thpoths like a thpotted 
 leopard." 
 
 '' What a delightful retrospect ! " said Cap- 
 tain Douglas. *' And what did Mr. Hamilton 
 do with your skin ? Take it off and give it to 
 your mother for a rug ? " 
 
 "No," said the child, with smiling in- 
 credulity, '' he gave me thome hawwid medi- 
 thine." 
 
 *' But it made you well, Leo," said the 
 father. 
 
 "Yeth, Father; why don't he make you well 
 too?" 
 
 " Because no one can make me quite well 
 I. 8 
 
114 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 except my little boy wlien he is good and 
 quiet." 
 
 " I will be quite quiet then," he whispered, 
 slipping one little hand within his father's white 
 fingers, and looking at him with big blue eyes. 
 
 There was something very touching in this 
 little scene; the peculiar gentleness of the 
 father seemed almost to awe the little boy into 
 subdued quiet, and to rouse a sympathy 
 within his childish breast which otherwise 
 might not have existed; and the tender love 
 which the poor father — who felt himself slip- 
 ping away from those around him — lavished 
 upon his only child, seemed to call forth ten- 
 derness in return which was as beautiful as it 
 was unusual. 
 
 "How are you going home. Miss Hamil- 
 ton ? " asked Captain Douglas, somewhat 
 abruptly, breaking the thread of my reverie 
 over this picture of domestic love. *' Is any- 
 one coming for you ? " 
 
 ** I think my father is coming," I answered, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 115 
 
 wondering whether this speech was a prelude 
 to an offer on his part of accompanying me 
 himself. " He promised to call for me soon 
 after luncheon." 
 
 "I wonder if we should have time to go out 
 first?" 
 
 " I daresay," I replied, looking at my watch 
 — which warned me, however, that it was 
 already four o'clock — and then at Lady Con- 
 stance for permission. 
 
 So we sallied forth — my desire having been 
 at once regarded as a decree — Sir Leopold 
 walking feebly behind us, with his hand rest- 
 ing upon his wife's arm. 
 
 I wondered if Lady Constance was aware of 
 the state of her husband's health, i.e, fully and 
 entirely aware, — whether she was conscious 
 that he was hastening towards that valley from 
 whence none of us can return, but through 
 which all must pass alone. Perhaps his illness 
 had crept upon him so stealthily that she did not 
 realise the hand of death which was upon him, 
 
 8 * 
 
116 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 as people are so wont to forget wlio are in 
 daily and hourly communion with its victims. 
 She was tender and gentle in her manner 
 towards him, frequently stopping that he might 
 recover the breathlessness from which he 
 appeared to suffer, or holding his hand as if to 
 impart strength and courage to his weariness. 
 After he had walked for about ten minutes he 
 seemed almost exhausted, and was glad to sink 
 down into one of the garden seats, she sitting 
 beside him. I was thus left to my companion, 
 who chiefly kept up the conversation, my 
 thoughts running back to the little scene in 
 domestic life which had so interested me a short 
 time befo're. I liked Captain Douglas — I liked 
 his naturalness, his frank, free manner. I 
 wondered what sort of uncle Mary Leslie had 
 found, in him, and whether he regarded me in 
 the same light as he did her — as " a good 
 little girl." I found myself at length talking to 
 him quite freely, of my school-days and com- 
 panions, of my songs and books, of my plea- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 117 
 
 sant visits in London, and of some of the people 
 I had met. We wandered on, down through 
 the garden with its banks of flowers which 
 were blazing in all their glory under the July 
 sun, till we had reached the iron paling which 
 bordered the lawn and opened upon the park. 
 Here the sound of horses' feet arrested our 
 attention, and I saw through the trees the 
 well-known sight of my father's brougham. 
 
 " He is come," I said, ejaculating faintly 
 though audibly what 1 meant to have said 
 sotto voce — " and this happy visit is over." 
 
 My companion looked at me. "Have you 
 enjoyed it very much?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, very much. Lady Constance is so 
 kind. But now we must hasten back ; 
 for I never like to keep my father waiting, 
 his time is so precious." 
 
 We walked back rapidly to the house, where 
 we found my father. They were all in the 
 drawing-room again, and it was evident that 
 Sir Leopold had been suffering from faintness. 
 
118 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 Lady Constance stood beside him, calm and 
 cheerful as usual, the bright flush of health 
 mantling in her fair cheek as she answered my 
 father's questions. Fearing that I might be an 
 intruder, I left the room at once to go upstairs 
 for the rest of my walking things. That pale 
 face haunted me and turned me sick with pain 
 and dread, and I was too unaccustomed to 
 illness to offer any assistance. I knew that my 
 father thought very seriously of Sir Leopold, 
 that any one of these attacks might prove 
 fatal : what if it should be so now, actually, 
 in my presence ? I had never come face to 
 face with death — the thought of it appalled me 
 with a truer sense of its awful mystery than I 
 had ever felt before. My own heart beat vio- 
 lently, my face grew pale, as I crossed the hall 
 and prepared to go upstairs. But as I laid 
 my hand upon the banister, another hand 
 touched mine, not laid over, but beside it, so 
 that our fingers just met. 
 
 '* I hope you are not alarmed. Miss Hamil- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 119 
 
 ton ? " was said in a low, deep voice. *' Sir 
 Leopold is mucli better now. He lias been 
 rather faint ; but it is all over, I think. You are 
 not frightened, are you ? " 
 
 "No, not at all," I answered in a voice 
 which I felt contradicted my words. " But I 
 cannot be of any use, and so I thought it was 
 better to keep out of the way.'* 
 
 " But you will come into the drawing-room 
 again, I hope ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. I am only going upstairs to get 
 my cloak." 
 
 I came downstairs again, to find that the 
 patient had recovered, and that coffee was 
 being served. Lady Constance was talking to 
 my father as if she, too, had got over the alarm 
 which she must have felt, and I soon discovered 
 that it was of myself she was speaking. 
 
 " You will allow Ella to come again, I hope," 
 she was saying. " We have been so delighted 
 with her music. I really think it has done 
 Leopold more good than your tonics." 
 
120 THE SHADOW OF A LIEE. 
 
 "I am glad to hear it," said my father, look- 
 ing pleased at the praise which was bestowed 
 upon me. " I know that Ella will be only too 
 delighted to come whenever you will permit 
 her to do so. Will you not, Ella ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, not disguising the pleasure 
 which I felt. 
 
 After Lady Constance's friendliness towards 
 me to-day, I should have no scruples about 
 visiting her, in spite of my mother's preju- 
 dices. If she felt inclined to show kindness, 
 who was I that I should reject it ? 
 
 " Thank you so much," I said at parting, " I 
 have had such a delightful day." And then I 
 went out to the carriage in company with 
 Captain Douglas, my father lingering behind 
 to say some more parting words. 
 
 I thought this interview would never end. 
 More than a quarter of an hour passed before 
 he made his appearance, while I felt rather 
 guilty at keeping Captain Douglas so long 
 tinder the beams of an afternoon sun in his 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 121 
 
 hatless condition. When my father came out, 
 at length, he stepped back from the carriage 
 window by which he had been standing, and 
 opened the door for him. Then he shook 
 hands with us both, with firm, strong fingers, 
 which seemed to hold mine with an iron grasp, 
 and then waving his hand, he moved back- 
 wards up the stone steps slowly, his eyes 
 still fixed upon my face. 
 
 I plunged into conversation hastily. 
 
 " Father, what made you stay so long ? 
 Were you talking about Sir Leopold ? " 
 
 "A little, my dear." 
 
 " A little ! I thought it was a great deal. 
 Do you think him so very ill? " 
 
 " He is ill, certainly, very ill — but it was not 
 that which engaged all my attention to-day." 
 
 " No ? What was it, then ? " I asked with 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Well, my dear, if you wish to know, we 
 were speaking of you, part of the time." 
 
 " Were you ? That was very kind," I said. 
 
122 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 my vanity touched. " I hope you said some- 
 thing nice about me." 
 
 '' I am not quite sure whether you would 
 think it nice, Ella. It was kind, certainly." 
 
 " Oh dear," I said,*making a little wry face, 
 " I hope you were not descanting upon my bad 
 qualities." 
 
 " No, not at all. We said nothing but that 
 which was most flattering to you. But I shall 
 not tell you now what it was. Your head has 
 been stuffed quite full enough for one day to 
 occupy it for several hours, so you must be 
 content to wait till a fitting opportunity oc- 
 curs before you hear any more. And try to 
 make yourself happy in the meantime." 
 
 Happy ! If all days had been as happy as 
 this one, how bright my life would have been ! 
 As we drove back through the avenue whose 
 old trees cast their shadows across our path — 
 no longer bright with a noonday sun as it had 
 been on our entrance — did any thought cross 
 my mind of gaunt spectres which would in like 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 123 
 
 manner overshadow the brightness of my 
 future life ? Ah, no. My capacity for enjoy- 
 ment was at its height. The long rays of 
 departing sunshine came down upon us in 
 fitful gleams through the swaying branches, 
 which the evening breeze softly stirred into 
 motion, and the birds sang joyously overhead. 
 It was impossible not to feel in harmony with 
 the peacefulness of it all, and no thought of 
 future sorrow troubled me while the present 
 was so sweet. If all our lives could be spent 
 in the joyous dreams which we dream at 
 eighteen, the world would be a pleasanter place 
 than many of us find it. 
 
124 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MORE HEART-BUENINGS. 
 
 " Life is chequered shade and sunshine." 
 
 Longfellow, 
 
 After this visit to Milford my spirits revived. I 
 no longer grumbled at my surroundings, though 
 the aspect of home was in many respects as 
 annoying to me as it had been at first. Life was 
 too short, I thought philosophically, for useless 
 repinings, and I had much to make me happy. 
 I felt fairly bubbling over with laughter and 
 excitement for the next few days, which was 
 not the best kind of happiness, I admit, 
 although it might have been the most natural 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 125 
 
 under the circumstances. I broke out into 
 snatches of songs upon all occasions, to the 
 apparent astonishment of my quiet mother, 
 who hardly seemed to appreciate this sudden 
 change in my behaviour, and I tried to be 
 kinder and more helpful to her, which was, 
 perhaps, the most favourable sign of improve- 
 ment that I had yet manifested. Lady Con- 
 stance became my warmest friend, and my 
 visits to her were frequent. Sometimes my 
 father took Mildred and me out there early in 
 the day, and called for us again in the after- 
 noon, but Lady Constance never came to our 
 house, and my mother still adhered proudly to 
 her resolution of not knowing her. 
 
 When Agnes came home from school, she, 
 too, joined the expeditions, and became almost 
 as fond of my friend as I was myself. Matters 
 had gone thus far for a few weeks, when I 
 received a little blow to my ardour from a 
 conversation which took place between my 
 father and me. 
 
126 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I had frequently longed to ask him what had 
 been the substance of his discourse at Milford, 
 of which I was the object, but hitherto had 
 had few opportunities of doing so. His time 
 seemed fully occupied, and I rarely, if ever, 
 saw him alone. My mother, probably, could 
 have answered the question as well as he, but 
 there seemed a wider gulf between us now 
 than there was in the old time, and upon any 
 subject referring to Lady Constance I felt an 
 awkward reserve with her. The opportunity 
 presented itself at last in a homeward drive 
 with my father from Milford, and I boldly 
 plunged into it. 
 
 *' Father, you have not told me yet what 
 you were talking about at Milford that day 
 that I lunched there. You promised to do so. 
 Will you tell me now ? '* 
 
 "Well, Ella,'' he said kindly, "I told you 
 that you might not altogether like it. Lady 
 Constance was proposing a plan for you which 
 would alter your life a little." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 127 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I asked quickly. 
 The prospect of companion to herself crossed 
 my distant vision. It was before the days of 
 lady-helps, or that, too, might have occurred 
 to me. But my father had hinted that I might 
 not like it, and I could only think of something 
 of the kind. 
 
 " What do you say to being a governess ? *' 
 he asked abruptly. 
 
 " A governess ! " I repeated, crestfallen ; " a 
 governess ! " It was the same proposal as that 
 which my mother had made to me. Was it 
 possible that the subject had been discussed aU 
 these weeks before I had known Lady Con- 
 stance myself ? "I don't quite understand," 
 I faltered. " Does she want me to become 
 governess to Leo ? " 
 
 " No, no," said my father hastily. " It is 
 not to herself she wishes you to go. It is to 
 a cousin of hers, a lady who lives some miles 
 off, and who has two or three little children 
 who are just beginning to be educated. Well, 
 
128 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 Ella, what do you say ? '' For I was sitting 
 with my hands clasped before me, my eyes 
 fixed upon the objects that we were passing, 
 but not seeing or heeding one of them, while 
 mingled pride and disappointment were clash- 
 ing within me. 
 
 *'I don't know what to say," I faltered. 
 " It seems such a new, such a strange idea." 
 
 " Why should it be so?" 
 
 " Well, possibly it is not so to you," I re- 
 plied bitterly ; "for I suppose it has been 
 talked of for some time. I remember now that 
 Mother mentioned it to me several weeks ago, 
 the very first time that I had seen Lady Con- 
 stance, in fact, and I thought then that it was 
 because I was discontented with my home, and 
 that she meant it as a sort of punishment. But 
 I did not dream that it was being taken into 
 discussion all this time, talked over, and planned 
 with Lady Constance. I thought that now I 
 was so happy, and had found such a friend, 
 it was to be quite different." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 129 
 
 " Is the idea so terrible to you, then ? " 
 
 " Not terrible, if by that you mean terrify- 
 ing. I daresay I could get on as well in that 
 capacity as in any other. But I should not 
 like it.'' 
 
 "We have all of us to learn that lesson, 
 Ella," said my father, sadly. " The very best 
 of us must sometimes do what is most unplea- 
 sant. You will not be worse off in that respect 
 than the rest of the world." 
 
 '^ I suppose not," I answered in what I knew 
 must sound a very sulky tone of voice ; " and 
 I daresay I could do it if it was necessary." 
 
 "And suppose it maybe necessary?" said 
 my father. 
 
 "Why, Father," I asked quickly, " have you 
 lost money ? or is there a reason for my doing 
 this?" 
 
 " There is a reason undoubtedly, or I would 
 not ask you to do so. But I have not lost 
 money. I sometimes wish I had a little more, 
 but that is not the point at present. The ques- 
 
130 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 tion simply rests with yourself. "Will you accept 
 this situation, or not ? " 
 
 " You will not tell me why ? '' I asked, hesi- 
 tating before I answered. 
 
 " Yes ; I do not object to that. In the first 
 place, I think you want a little more society 
 than you have at present." 
 
 "But at what a cost should I obtain it? How 
 much society shall I have as a governess ? To 
 be looked upon as an inferior, a menial, a sort 
 of upper servant, to be treated with kindness 
 in its most patronising and galling form, — if 
 that is how I buy my society I would rather 
 remain without any." 
 
 " I hope that your experience will not prove 
 so bitter as you imagine, Ella. If I did not 
 know where I was sending you, I too might 
 fear this for you. But I know that these 
 friends of Lady Constance Milford's would 
 not be likely to treat you in such a manner." 
 
 *' But Lady Constance herself ? If I were a 
 governess, would she speak to me in the manner 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 131 
 
 in whicli she has hitherto done ? Would she 
 call me Ella, and kiss me as she did to-day ? '* 
 I wrung my hands with misery at the thought. 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Ah no, I know better than that," I said 
 hopelessly, feeling that my elated ideas had 
 become so suddenly crushed. I had thought 
 that she wished to know me for my own sake, 
 that she had asked me to her house for the 
 pleasure of my society, and, for the time being, 
 had considered myself a sort of princess meet- 
 ing with another princess upon common ground. 
 And now it proved to be a plot, a snare to 
 sound the depths of my character and capabiH- 
 ties. My dream had melted into air. 
 
 " Why, my little girl, you seem to have very 
 vague ideas of Lady Constance's character," 
 said my father, laughing. " I am sure if she 
 would not speak to you because you were 
 earning money honestly as a governess, I 
 would not speak to her. Come, Ella, you 
 must not be absurd. I did not wish to shock 
 
 9 * 
 
132 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 your feelings so considerably; but we will 
 give up the idea altogether if it annoys you. 
 Perhaps Agnes may be induced to consider it 
 some day." 
 
 This was poor comfort. It was evident that 
 my father desired one of us to undertake the 
 situation ; and why should it not be I ? With 
 all my faults, I was not selfish. If it was 
 absolutely desirable, I would consider the 
 matter, and perhaps my conclusions would be 
 more favourable in a few days. It was only 
 at first that I felt so totally unprepared for a 
 change of plans. 
 
 " Father," I said remorsefully, " do not 
 think me ungrateful for all that you have 
 done for me. Indeed, indeed I appreciate it. 
 Do you want help in the form of money, or 
 was it only for my own sake that you thought 
 of this ? " 
 
 "Well, Ella, I acknowledge that I am not 
 too well off. I make a good many bad debts, 
 and I have owed money for some years, which 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 133 
 
 I would gladly pay, and so ease my mind of a 
 responsibility." 
 
 I remembered then this debt to Mr. Thorburn 
 of which I had before heard, and was ashamed 
 of myself directly. *' Oh, Father," I said, 
 " how unkind I have been ! I never thought 
 of that ; and I am sure you have trouble often, 
 for your face looks so sad. You, and Mother 
 too, are the quietest, saddest people I ever 
 saw, to have light-hearted children like us." 
 
 He smiled, ever so faint a smile, as if a 
 memory brought mingled joy and woe back to 
 him. 
 
 " I was once as light-hearted as you are," 
 he said, looking straight before him, as if he 
 saw some object in the distance through the 
 front window of the brougham. 
 
 " Were you? " I said eagerly, " Then what 
 has changed you ? Some heavy sorrow, I am 
 sure it was." 
 
 He did not answer, perhaps he could not. 
 A shadow of pain crossed his face, and he 
 
134 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 shook his head sadly. Then I knew that I 
 must ask no more questions, and kept silence. 
 
 We were driving up the High Street now, 
 and I was not sorry that our drive had come 
 to a termination. My father had another 
 visit to pay before he could return home, 
 so it was proposed that I should drive up to 
 our own door while he paid it. As I neared 
 the house I saw a cab before the door, from 
 which luggage was being removed, and a 
 second glance sufl&ced to show me that it was 
 my brother Edmund. 
 
 "We had not seen him since Christmas, and 
 even in this short time he seemed to have de- 
 veloped and improved. He was singularly 
 like my father, and had his tall, erect figure, 
 and regular features. His hair was the colour 
 of my own, and now rippled in tiny wavelets 
 of curl over his head. I felt very proud of 
 him, and saw that my mother looked so too. 
 
 " Why, Edmund, my boy, we have been ex- 
 pecting you for a week or more," she exclaimed 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 135 
 
 as she embraced him. " How was it that you 
 didn't write ? Surely the holidays began long 
 ago?" 
 
 *' Yes, Mother, the vacation is a month old 
 now. But I thought you knew I was in Lon- 
 don ; didn't my father tell you ? " 
 
 " No, love. He has been busy, I suppose ; 
 indeed, I know he has, and harassed and 
 worried." 
 
 "Ella, you knew it?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, I did," I answered, flushing a 
 little at the thought of my having been the 
 recipient of news which had not been communi- 
 cated to my mother. She turned to me in- 
 stantly — 
 
 " Did your father tell you ? " 
 
 *' Yes, Mother," I answered guiltily. 
 
 "It is more than he has to me," she mut- 
 tered; and I saw that she was wounded. 
 
 Edmund, who, like my father, was also re- 
 served, became silent, but said, after a pause, 
 " What is the matter with my Father ? " 
 
136 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Only patients, I suppose," said my mother, 
 shortly. 
 
 " Yes," I put in, anxious to change the sub- 
 ject. *^He has two or three patients very ill. 
 One woman he has gone to see now ; and Sir 
 Leopold cannot recover, I suppose. " 
 
 " No, I am afraid not," said Edmund in a 
 low voice. " How sad it is for his wife ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Agnes ; " and she is such a 
 sweet woman. I wish you knew her, Edmund ; 
 she has been very kind to us lately." 
 
 " I do," said my brother, " a little ; that is, 
 I saw her in London a short time ago." 
 
 " You did, Edmund ? " repeated my mother, 
 who had not quite recovered her usual manner. 
 " Well, of all the mysterious creatures that 
 ever lived, I think you and your father are the 
 greatest. And pray what have you been doing 
 in London? " 
 
 " Not very much, Mother," said Edmund, 
 laughing a little nervously. " I did not know 
 that it was a mystery, or I would not have 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 137 
 
 mentioned it ; but now that I have, it can't be 
 helped. The truth is, that Sir Leopold Milford 
 has been using his influence to get me a berth 
 in the War Office, and I am in hopes that I 
 shall get it." 
 
 "Dear me," said mj mother, ''what lucky 
 people some folks are ! All the same, I think 
 you might have mentioned it." 
 
 " Dear Mother, are you not glad to hear of 
 my good fortune?" asked Edmund, gently. 
 " I know that my father must have had hard 
 work to keep me at college for the last three 
 years, and I am thankful to think that I shall 
 soon be able to work and repay him a little for 
 what he has done for me." 
 
 Edmund did not say then what he after- 
 wards told me, that my father had allowed 
 him three hundred and fifty pounds a-year ever 
 since he had been at Oxford. This might 
 partly account for our being poor, for I was 
 sure that my own education had been expen- 
 sive, and my heart smote me for my unkind- 
 
138 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 ness in having grumbled when my father had 
 proposed my assisting him. I knew that my 
 mother would be pleased at Edmund's pro- 
 spects when her momentary flush of annoy- 
 ance was over. She was only nettled at not 
 being received into the confidence of her 
 husband and son, which] was but natural. I, 
 being a woman, felt a strong sympathy with 
 her, and took the first opportunity of up- 
 braiding Edmund for his reserve aboat the 
 matter. We were walking round and round 
 the old yard with its grass-plot in the middle, 
 as we used to do in the days of our child- 
 hood, my arm linked within his in happy 
 confidence. 
 
 " For you know, dear Edmund," I concluded, 
 after commenting upon his reserve towards my 
 mother, " I think Mother is hurt when she 
 thinks that our confidence is withheld, although 
 she does not give us much encouragement. It 
 is only natural that she should desire to know 
 all that affects our welfare ; and sometimes I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 189 
 
 think that Father does not talk about family 
 matters so much as he might." 
 
 " Dear Ella," said my brother gently — he 
 was so gentle with all his manliness — " I think 
 our father is right. He does not like the idea 
 of our movements being known to the Thor- 
 burns ; and this is one way of avoiding it." 
 
 " Do you mean that Mother repeats it? " 
 
 " I am afraid so," said Edmund. " Of course 
 she means no harm ; but things leak out some- 
 how, and it annoys Father greatly." 
 
 " I should think so," I said indignantly, 
 contrasting their vulgar curiosity with the 
 high-bred delicacy of my friend. " Oh, Ed- 
 mund, I wish we had never known those 
 people ; I cannot think how our acquaintance 
 began." 
 
 "I don't know," said my brother; "I think 
 it was a mistake in the first instance, and 
 Father did not think any harm would come of 
 it. He was too much occupied when we were 
 children, and we used to be allowed to play 
 
140 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 together. Then, when we grew older the mis- 
 chief was already done, and it was too late to 
 stop it." 
 
 " Yes ; and there seems to be some reason 
 why they are to be let down easily," I said. 
 " I don't see much of them myself, but I know 
 that Mrs. Thorburn slips in now sometimes by 
 the side gate after Father has gone out in the 
 morning. Poor thing, I daresay she is glad to 
 come and talk to Mother about her own affairs ; 
 she has not many friends." 
 
 *' But they are doing well," said Edmund ; 
 '' I hear they are building a new house." 
 
 *' Well, very likely she comes to discuss the 
 pattern of a carpet, or the price of a new arm- 
 chair." 
 
 But I could not feel quite satisfied about 
 these confidences, although I laughingly re- 
 jected them. I hoped that my mother had not 
 discussed the prospect of my becoming a go- 
 verness with Mrs. Thorburn, who, though a 
 kind-hearted woman, was sufficiently purse- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 141 
 
 proud to patronise me for it. This new bouse 
 that the family were building was likely to cost 
 them a good deal of money, and I had detected 
 a certain boastfulness in their manner of speak- 
 ing of it which had irritated me greatly. But 
 I saw that neither my father nor mother wished 
 to offend them, and that both were much more 
 gracious in their manner than I ever felt in- 
 clined to be. Since Agnes came home we had 
 not been to see them, and I knew that one of 
 the dreaded visits must be contemplated before 
 long. 
 
 My mother had proposed that very day that 
 we should return the family call which had 
 been made by Mrs. Thorburn and her daugh- 
 ters, with all due ceremony, adding that she 
 did not wish us to appear stiff and unfriendly 
 with them. " And whatever you do, don't ride 
 the high horse," she had said in her emphatic 
 manner. " They are quick enough to see that 
 sort of thing ; and I don't want my girls to 
 pass for stuck-up proud people, when they are 
 
142 THE SHADOW OF A LTFE. 
 
 only the daughters of a poor doctor. I am not 
 afraid of you Agnes, but Ella is terribly given 
 that way." 
 
 "No, Mother, I am not," I had said pettishly; 
 " only Mrs. Thorburn is so dreadfully vulgar." 
 
 I saw that my mother did not like this mode 
 of speaking, and evidently attributed it to my 
 new acquaintance with Lady Constance, for 
 she flushed a little, and said irritably, " Well, 
 everyone can't help the manner in which they 
 were made, child. Perhaps if you had been 
 born vulgar you would not have seen it." 
 
 Poor Mother ! Now I was in a melting 
 mood towards her, softened by the pain which 
 had been inflicted by my father's and brother's 
 reserve. I loved her dearly, and often wished 
 that I could give her better proofs of my affec- 
 tion. Perhaps she would be pleased if we 
 went to see the Thorburns, whatever her mo- 
 tive might be for desiring it. 
 
 " I will go to-morrow," I said to Edmund. 
 " If Father and Mother wish us to be kind, we 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. ] 43 
 
 may at least respect their wishes." And feehng 
 very magnanimous for this resolve, I imparted 
 it to Agnes, who entirely agreed with me. 
 
 On the following afternoon we surprised my 
 mother by informing her that " We must go 
 and pay that visit " ; and Agnes and I set out 
 together, my remark, " Come along, Agnes ; 
 let 's go and get it over," being fortunately 
 made out of ear-shot. 
 
 We found the two younger girls at home, 
 Annie and her mother having gone up to look 
 at the new house, which was about a quarter 
 of a mile off. 
 
 " You have never seen it yet, Ella, I do 
 believe," said Kate. " Can't you come up with 
 us now and look at it ? We won't be a minute 
 putting on our hats." 
 
 I would have refused this offer, but I saw 
 that for some reason Agnes was willing to 
 yield, so I reluctantly gave way. But it was 
 with an ill grace, for I did not care to be seen 
 walking along the High Street in company 
 
144 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 witli Kate Thorburn. I felt this still more 
 when they came down into the sitting-room 
 again, ready equipped, and looking — as I after- 
 wards told Agnes — like a pair of popinjays ! 
 However, there was no help for it, and we 
 sallied forth together, not in so amiable a frame 
 of mind myself as I ought to have been, in 
 spite of the honour that had been conferred 
 upon me. 
 
 "ISTow this is nice! " exclaimed Kate, gush- 
 ingly, as soon as we were in the street, 
 apparently unconscious of my inward annoy- 
 ance. '' It quite reminds one of old times, 
 doesn't it, Ella?" 
 
 '' I don't know," I answered stiffly; '' we are 
 all so much older than we used to be in those 
 days." 
 
 " Why, of course, everybody must grow," 
 said Kate, laughing. " But you have got so 
 proud since you were grown up ; we never see 
 you now." 
 
 "Nonsense, Kate," I said, feeling a little 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 145 
 
 embarrassed by her candour, '' I have more to 
 do now than I had when I was a child — " but I 
 faltered, for I knew that this excuse was 
 slightly exaggerated. 
 
 "• Oh no, Ella, it isn't that," said Kate, 
 good-temperedly, " we understand, and we 
 don't really mind it much. Mamma says it 's 
 all right, that such a gentleman as your father 
 couldn't be expected to know us intimately : but 
 all the same, I don't think Pa quite likes it." 
 
 This was said confidentially, with a nod of 
 her head which made all the feathers and 
 flowers begin quivering and shaking as if they 
 were afflicted with palsy. The candour of her 
 remark only irritated me, and I said indig- 
 nantly : '' How can your father expect to 
 know mine well, when he is so busy ? You 
 know my father is out from morning till 
 night : he never gets home until the evening. 
 How can he have time to know anyone ? " 
 
 " Except Lady Constance Milford," said Kate, 
 with a malicious smile. " He manages to 
 I. 10 
 
146 THE SEADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 know her pretty well, I should think, for he is 
 always going there." 
 
 " Of course he is," I answered defiantly. 
 " You don't know, perhaps, that her husband. 
 Sir Leopold, is very ill — likely to die, in fact, 
 and my father has to be there constantly." 
 
 '' And you too, I suppose," continued my 
 tormentor. " We have seen the carriage pass 
 by the shop and stop at your door times out 
 of mind lately, and we have seen you in it too. 
 My patience ! didn't you look fine, driving off 
 with Lady Constance herself, the other morning, 
 in her own brougham ? " 
 
 ''Did I?" I asked angrily; "I am sorry 
 to hear it. I didn't feel so, I think." 
 
 '' Oh, come, Ella, you know you did. We 
 watched for you all day, wondering where 
 you had gone, for we saw you go down by the 
 King's Arms, as if you were going to the sta- 
 tion. Then in the evening we saw you drive 
 by in the big carriage, and stop at your own 
 house. Where did you go, Ella?" 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 147 
 
 This impertinence was more than I could 
 tolerate patiently. I answered in my haughtiest 
 manner : ''As you appear to know my move- 
 ments so well, it will be unnecessary to inform 
 you. It is sufficient to say that I spent a 
 day with Lady Constance Milford ; will that 
 satisfy you ? " 
 
 " No," said the pertinacious Kate, with ag- 
 gravating good temper. '' I want to hear a lot 
 more ; do tell me something about it." 
 
 What reply was upon my lips it is impossible 
 now to say, as it will ever remain unspoken. 
 It may be sufficient to remark that I had 
 now reached such a pitch of indignation that 
 I was on the point of turning homeward, when 
 a glance in the direction before me arrested 
 my movements. A gentleman was driving 
 down the street in a dog-cart, and was at 
 that moment lifting his hat to me. In an 
 instant I saw that it was Captain Douglas. 
 
 I could have cried with mortification. A 
 second time he was to meet me in the com- 
 
 10 * 
 
148 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 panj of these people, not in the same manner 
 as Lady Constance might come in contact with 
 them, but as equals and companions of my 
 own. My face tinged with the blush which 
 overspread it, already heightened in colour by 
 the aggravation which I had received. Kate 
 eyed me narrowly, evidently mistaking the 
 cause of my embarrassment. 
 
 <« "Why, how you do colour ! " she said. 
 " Who was that ? Somebody coming from 
 Milford, I'll be bound." 
 
 " It was Captain Douglas," I replied briefly. 
 
 " What, that swell who has been staying 
 there lately ? He has bought several things 
 out of the shop, and said the bill was to be 
 sent to Captain Douglas : is this the same 
 man r 
 
 '^ I suppose so," I answered laconically. 
 
 " Why, yes, of course, you remember him," 
 said Kate, as if her memory had just furnished 
 her with another brilliant idea. " You were 
 at our house the day we first saw him, the 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE, 149 
 
 same gentleman who nearly ran over Helen 
 and me." 
 
 I felt almost regretful that the accident had 
 not taken place, if it would have put a stop to 
 Kate's chattering tongue for ever, but I had 
 sufficient forbearance not to betray this Chris- 
 tian sentiment. I merely muttered something 
 about "a slight recollection" of the circum- 
 stance, and then, seeing a new house in process 
 of erection at a little distance before us, asked 
 if that was to be the new mansion. 
 
 *' Yes, that 's it," said Kate ; " isn't it a fine 
 one ? It will cost a heap of money. Pa says." 
 
 " I daresay," I answered absently. I was 
 thinking of the money my father owed Mr. 
 Thorburn, and wondered if that which was 
 earned so hardly was being spent in this hand- 
 some dwelling. 
 
 It was a stone building standing in a large 
 piece of ground, and looked to me nearly com- 
 pleted. There were no steps as yet to the 
 door, but the flooring was all laid, and some 
 
150 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 of the mantelpieces were put in. There seemed 
 to be several rooms, all large and lofty. 
 
 As we went np the board which led to the 
 front door, Mrs. Thorburn's voice was heard 
 in the hall, talking to one of the workmen. 
 
 '' I hope we shall find it a comfortable apart- 
 ment," we heard her say; "Mr. Thorburn is 
 very particular about his study, and I should 
 like to be sure that this sort of grate would 
 answer for it.'* 
 
 I could have laughed outright with indig- 
 nation and contempt. Mrs. Thorburn, for- 
 sooth, talking of her husband's study ! He 
 who had never known anything better than 
 the little back parlour behind the shop for his 
 private room. I wondered of what his library 
 would consist beside account-books. 
 
 But seeing me, she ceased speaking to the 
 man, and held out her hand. She was always 
 cordial in spite of my stiffness. 
 
 " Oh, Ella! why this is quite an honour, in- 
 deed. Have you come to see the house ? " 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 151 
 
 " If you will allow us, Mrs. Thorburn," I 
 answered graciously. '' I have brought Agnes 
 with me ; she is just outside with Helen." 
 
 *' Oh, Agnes, love ! is it you? " And then 
 Mrs. Thorburn and Annie both hugged my 
 sister, who looked as if she relished it better 
 than I should. 
 
 Agnes was now seventeen, a contrast to both 
 Mildred and me. She was dark, with brown 
 eyes, and at least an inch taller than I was. 
 She had not all my pride, but, in some things, 
 1 thought her more dignified. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Thorburn — I am very 
 well. What a nice house you seem to have, 
 and how you will enjoy being here ! May we 
 go upstairs ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course; I'll take you." And Mrs. 
 Thorburn walked off with her, saying in a loud 
 confidential tone as she went, "It'll be an 
 expensive affair, though, before it 's done ; 
 think of the curtains and carpets it will 
 take ! " 
 
152 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 *' When do you expect to get in ? " I asked 
 of Annie. 
 
 "About October. I daresay we shall find 
 it very unfinished at first, but we shall 
 soon be used to it; and it will be so nice 
 after having been over a shop for so many 
 years." 
 
 Annie had no false pride about her, for 
 which I liked her. We stayed long enough to 
 inspect the whole house, upon which even I, 
 in spite of my annoyance, could not help pro- 
 nouncing a favourable opinion. Coming out, 
 however, I pleaded business with my sister in 
 another part of the town, and we walked off in 
 an opposite direction. 
 
 I gave a sigh of despair as we left them, and 
 then said : 
 
 " Oh, Agnes, I sometimes wish we had never 
 been born." 
 
 " Why, Ella? " asked my sister simply. 
 
 "Agnes, dear, you don't know how dread- 
 ful it is, to have to be polite to these people 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LTFE. 153 
 
 when one feels exactly the reverse, to endure 
 their vulgarity, and to take it in a friendly 
 spirit, when all the time it is burning into one's 
 heart. I know that I am out of temper now, 
 but it is Kate Thorburn who has made me so." 
 
 *' What has she been saying ? " 
 
 I told my sister, with no attempt to control 
 my annoyance. 
 
 " I will not know them," I said passionately. 
 " In spite of all that Father or Mother say, I 
 will leave home ; I will go out as a governess ; 
 I will do anything to help Father pay back his 
 money, if it is that which obliges us to keep up 
 an intimacy with them. But be friendly I 
 never will, and that is the end of it." 
 
154 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 A DAY AT WENTWOETH COUET. 
 
 " I'll take the flowers as they fall, 
 I will not vex my bosom ; 
 Enough, if at the end of all ; 
 A little garden blossom." 
 
 Owen Meredith. 
 
 At the end of a week I had made up my mind 
 about the question which my parents had pro- 
 posed to me. Should I become a governess ? 
 I sought Lady Constance's advice, anxious 
 partly to discover her motive in suggesting it, 
 angry at first with her for the thought that 
 she had done so, but forgiving when I heard 
 her delicacy in speaking of it, her desire being, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 155 
 
 as she said, to make me happy. I found that 
 the lady to whom I had been recommended 
 was no other than Mrs. Douglas, the sister-in- 
 law of Captain Douglas, and the aunt of Mary 
 Leslie. It stung my pride a little to hear this, 
 despite my friend's assurance that she was a 
 charming little creature whom I could not fail 
 to love. The children were all darlings : little 
 steps one above another, and numbered four, 
 the youngest, however, being entirely under 
 the charge of his nurse. Finally, it was sug- 
 gested that we should go over there for half a 
 day to luncheon, so that I should be better 
 able to judge for myself what my future life 
 would probably be. Mrs. Douglas had invited 
 me as her guest. Lady Constance assured me. 
 She was not the sort of person who was likely 
 to trot me out and judge of my paces. Lady 
 Constance had spoken of me as her friend, had 
 told her all about me, and, in fact, had so far 
 insinuated me into her good graces as to give 
 her a strong desire to know me. 
 
166 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 All this was very flattering, and helped to 
 take off the new edge of my fear, but, all the 
 same, I was nervous at the prospect. How 
 should I meet Captain Douglas ? Was I to be 
 on the same terms with him as I had been at 
 Milford, or was I to maintain a more dignified 
 reserve, as befitted my position? Perhaps I 
 should not often see him if I lived at Went- 
 worth Court. I could not expect to come 
 much in contact with the family, for I remem- 
 bered that Miss Marks usually desired to be 
 alone when she had the opportunity. Well, 
 I did not suppose that my duties would be so 
 arduous as hers, and, after all, " Stone walls 
 do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage," 
 so that it was possible to be happy even in 
 solitude. But this question about Captain 
 Douglas troubled me more than any other. 
 After seeing him as I had at Milford — more 
 than once now — I felt almost intimate with 
 him. My friendship with Lady Constance, 
 his cousin, had made a sort of bond between 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 157 
 
 US, as well as the old school intimacy with 
 Mary Leslie. 
 
 And now I must alter my demeanour and 
 become the governess — the dependant in his 
 brother's family, from whom I received wages. 
 A little shiver passed over my frame, in spite 
 of all my philosophy. But I was determined 
 to go through with it now, come what might, 
 and therefore it was with no surprise that I 
 received the expected note fixing Thursday 
 for our expedition. 
 
 But when the time came for me to start, a 
 strange unquietness possessed my mind once 
 more, and caused me to shrink from the pain 
 of leaving home. I shed a few tears secretly, 
 as though I were ashamed of them, then braced 
 myself up for the coming ordeal, determined to 
 show no one — not my mother, even — the effort 
 which it cost me. 
 
 I dressed myself with care, as I had done 
 on that eventful day when I had paid my 
 first visit to Lady Constance. I put on my 
 
158 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 muslin of pale blue, wliich I knew became 
 my slight figure, and arrayed myself in the 
 coquettish little hat, with its simple folds of 
 muslin and lace. Then throwing over my 
 shoulders a handsome lace scarf which had 
 been lent me by my mother, I tied it in a loose 
 knot behind, and descended to the dining- 
 room, where the family were assembled at 
 dinner. 
 
 When I presented myself before my father 
 and mother, I saw by the tremulous glance 
 which each bestowed upon me that some sen- 
 timent stirred their breast beyond that which 
 was excited by the sight of their daughter 
 going forth into the world. I shall never for- 
 get the fervent " God bless you ! " with which 
 my father returned the proffered kiss, or the 
 tears which filled my mother's eyes, and caused 
 a falter in her voice, as she asked me if I 
 had everything ready. Then I sprang out of 
 the room, fearful that I, too, should break 
 down, and betray my weakness, and so spoil 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 159 
 
 my eyes for the company wliom I was to meet. 
 I hardly heeded poor little Mildred's hug, who 
 ran after me into the hall, exclaiming, " Oh, I 
 do think you are the loveliest girl in all the 
 world ! " and then I tripped out of the door 
 towards the carriage which was waiting for me. 
 
 Lady Constance gave my hand a little squeeze 
 as I stepped into the brougham, looking earn- 
 estly, at me out of her large, magnificent eyes. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " she asked gaily ; then 
 seeing my agitation, added : " Ella, I am afraid 
 you are not satisfied." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I am," I answered, though with 
 quivering lips. " You are too kind, too good. 
 Don't speak of it, please. I shall be all right 
 in a minute." 
 
 She turned her head from me and looked 
 out of the carriage-window, and then I saw 
 that her own eyes were full of tears : could 
 she be weeping for sympathy? " 
 
 " Claude is to meet us at the station," she 
 said in a few minutes, "was it not good of 
 
160 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 him to come over to Halton for the purpose of 
 escorting us back to Went worth? " 
 
 " Yery," I said briefly, my heart fluttering 
 at the news. I had not anticipated that my 
 behaviour would be put to the test so soon, 
 and almost dreaded the sight of him. But he 
 came forward to the carriage smiling, and put 
 out his strong hand, crushing up my trem- 
 bling fingers while he addressed himself to his 
 cousin : 
 
 " Come, Constance — you are just in time, 
 the train is just starting. How 's Leopold ? " 
 
 So any embarrassment which I might have 
 felt, was clearly not perceptible. 
 
 He and Lady Constance kept up most of 
 the conversation between them, I only answer- 
 ing in brief monosyllables, which must have ap- 
 peared very stupid to them both. But I was in 
 no mood to talk, and had to begin practising my 
 new role as governess, so as to become accus- 
 tomed to it. Lady Constance glanced at me from 
 time to time with reassuring looks, and as I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 161 
 
 read in her countenance a desire to befriend 
 me, I felt more and more foolish. 
 
 At the Wentworth station I was startled by 
 the sound of a cheery voice proceeding from a 
 tall, strong-limbed man not unlike Captain 
 Douglas, who walked beside us, with one hand 
 resting upon the window, as the train slackened 
 its speed. 
 
 " Well, Constance, here jou are at last ! 
 Griad to see you. Is this your friend ? How- 
 do-do, Miss Hamilton ? " and then a hand 
 was put out which seized mine with a firm 
 grip. 
 
 I made no reply, and fortunately he did not 
 appear to expect one, for he immediately began 
 talking with his cousin as he led her towards 
 the carriage. I was thus left to the care of 
 his brother, who seemed to be too much occu- 
 pied with the meeting of his dogs to say any- 
 thing to me. I did not utter a word while we 
 drove through the lanes, across the open com- 
 mon, and skirted the town of Went worth with 
 I. 11 
 
162 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 its Ugly barracks and lazy-looking inhabitants. 
 But I breathed a sigh which was more like a 
 flutter of my heart as the carriage drove 
 through a small plantation, and then sweeping 
 round came suddenly upon an old red house 
 which stood almost hidden from sight among 
 the trees. 
 
 A few minutes more, and I found myself in 
 a spacious hall with orange-trees and hot- 
 house flowers shedding sweet perfume from 
 their fragrant blossoms. Tall statues bearing 
 lamps, or crouched in graceful attitudes, 
 stood at intervals, and a flight of stairs branch- 
 ing off into a double flight as it reached the 
 first landing, led the way to the upper rooms. 
 
 I thought it was the prettiest house I had 
 ever seen. The scent of those orange-trees 
 comes back to me now, fraught with many 
 recollections upon which I dare not dwell. The 
 sun, slanting tl trough the large stained glass 
 window which overlooked the landing, sent its 
 rays down upon the tesselated pavement in blue, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 163 
 
 green, and orange. How the remembrance 
 makes me quiver ! How every pulse is stirred 
 by the recollection of it all as it first struck 
 upon me ! I had hardly time to take it all in, 
 before a clear, ringing voice was heard speak- 
 ing to someone ; then a side door opened, and 
 a pretty little creature ran towards us, followed 
 by two small children. Was it possible that 
 this fragile-looking girl was the mother of these 
 children, the mistress whose treatment I had 
 so much dreaded ? She came running towards 
 us like a child, dressed in white, with a soft 
 shade of pink lighting up the delicate, peach- 
 like complexion, and shining from her smooth 
 brown hair. 
 
 " Oh, Constance, I am so glad to see you ! " 
 she exclaimed, springing up to meet the kiss 
 with which my graceful friend greeted her; and 
 then she turned to me, giving me as shy a 
 handshake as I could have bestowed upon her. 
 
 Lady Constance bent down and kissed the 
 children, who submitted to it with rather an 
 
 11 * 
 
164 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 ill grace, and scampered awaj when I ap- 
 proached them for the same purpose. They 
 were soon brought round, however, by the 
 sight of a small parcel which emerged from 
 Uncle Claude's pocket, and came into the 
 drawing-room mounted upon his shoulders in 
 triumphant state. 
 
 " Claude — how naughty ! " was the little 
 mother's remonstrance. "You know I don't 
 allow sweets, especially before dinner." 
 
 But Uncle Claude was evidently a person who 
 submitted to no rule except that of his superior 
 officers' ; he laughed coolly, and attempted no 
 sort of apology for this infringement of the 
 household law. 
 
 " Chocolate is very nice, isn't it, Mab ? " he 
 asked of the small queen who reigned upon 
 his right shoulder ; " ask Mamma to have 
 some." 
 
 " No, thank you, Mamma does not wish for 
 any. Claude, I am really angry ; only look at 
 her fingers, and Edyth's mouth. There, run 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 165 
 
 away, darlings, and have your faces washed." 
 And in obedience to this command Uncle Claude 
 bore them off to mysterious upper regions. 
 
 " I daresay you, also, would like to wash your 
 hands. Miss Hamilton?" said Mrs. Douglas, 
 turning to me and speaking to me for the first 
 time. " Shall we come upstairs, Constance? " 
 And rising as she spoke, she led the way her- 
 self, up the handsome staircase, and down a 
 side passage which led from the broad landing. 
 She threw open a door, saying, with a timid 
 blush, " Will you walk in here. Miss Hamil- 
 ton?" and after hoping that I should find 
 everything comfortable, closed the door again, 
 and returned with my friend to another part 
 of the house. 
 
 It was a small room into which I had been 
 ushered, hung with blue chintz, and furnished 
 in some light-coloured wood. A little brass 
 bedstead stood in one corner, draped with blue, 
 and fresh curtains of embroidered muslin hung 
 before the window. The toilet-table was 
 
166 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 covered with muslin and lace, and looked fresh 
 and simple ; while a few pictures on the wall, 
 chiefly sacred subjects, a crucifix over the 
 mantelpiece, and a Bible covered in morocco, 
 showed that a regard was paid to religious 
 ideas, by externals at least. I was glad of this, 
 for I had dreaded entering a house where I 
 saw and heard of nothing but the world. I 
 sat down in an arm-chair near the broad, open 
 window, after removing my hat, and gave my- 
 self up to a survey of the room, and to a reverie 
 of what the future would be. This, no doubt, 
 was to be my bedroom, and Mrs. Douglas had 
 shown tact and delicacy by allowing me to 
 remain alone in it for a little while. Already 
 I felt grateful to her, and for her kindness in 
 giving me so much luxury and comfort. It 
 was different from anything to which I had as 
 yet been accustomed, and as I thought of the 
 contrast between it and my own poorly fur- 
 nished bedroom at home, I felt my heart 
 almost bound with a sudden rush of hope and 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 167 
 
 comfort. After all, the world could not be so 
 dreadful in this pretty house; Mrs. Douglas 
 could never be formidable, and the children 
 were too small to be troublesome. What had 
 I to fear ? And why need I fret myself with 
 imaginary troubles ? It was better than stay- 
 ing at home, a burden to my father, and fretted 
 by a thousand wants which could never be 
 satisfied. 
 
 I sat and thought on, my eyes following 
 rapidly every minute detail of the prettily fur- 
 nished room. The small writing-table in the 
 middle, with its prettily carved ink-stand and 
 Swiss pen-holder ; the blue cloth which matched 
 everything else, with its soft tint, restful and 
 satisfying to the eye ; the snowy bedstead ; the 
 delicate carpet with its spring flowers : — all 
 seemed to speak of repose, and comfort, and 
 refinement. 
 
 But the sound of a gong resounding from 
 the hall put an end to my dream; then .gay 
 little voices were heard along the passage on 
 
168 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 their way from the nursery, and I rose, glanced 
 at myself once more in the toilet-glass, and 
 prepared to leave the room. Opening the 
 door, I came upon a little group, who were 
 walking hand in hand, and chattering as they 
 went. 
 
 They were indeed " little steps." The 
 eldest, Lilian, I had not seen before, but she 
 was evidently " Miss Douglas," as she walked 
 between the other two with conscious supe- 
 riority. 
 
 " No, Edyth, you must take my hand. Don't 
 you know we have company to-day, and it 's 
 proper ? " And the dignified little creature 
 marched on with the two tiny trots beside 
 her. 
 
 I waited till they had passed my door and 
 then softly crept out, encountering on my way 
 a respectably dressed woman, whom I rightly 
 conjectured to be the housekeeper. She stared 
 at me boldly as she passed, probably taking in 
 the new governess, a mode of reception which 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 169 
 
 I did not altogether relish, and I hurriedly made 
 mj way downstairs to the drawing-room. 
 
 To my surprise, no one was present, but I 
 heard voices proceeding from the terrace out- 
 side, and found that it was Lady Constance 
 speaking with Mrs. Douglas. It was evidently 
 about myself, for I heard the words, " a girl 
 with refined tastes," spoken by Lady Constance, 
 and then they wandered away, and turned again 
 the length of the broad terrace. As they ap- 
 proached a second time, it was Mrs. Douglas 
 who was speaking. I heard her say, " I will 
 do my utmost to make her happy," and then 
 they turned the handle of the side door, and 
 entered by the hall. Mrs. Douglas approached 
 me, saying in a timid voice : 
 
 *' Luncheon is ready. Miss Hamilton ; will 
 you come with us, please ? " 
 
 I rose and followed them. Lady Constance 
 stepping back and putting out her hand to me 
 with a smile. As we approached the dining- 
 room the two gentlemen made their appearance 
 
170 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 by the side door wliicli led from the garden, 
 and we all entered together. The children were 
 already seated at the table, and Lilian, the 
 eldest, put her head back carelessly to receive 
 the kiss which Lady Constance bestowed upon 
 her. She gave me a cool, supercilious glance, 
 and then said : 
 
 " What is this lady's name ? " 
 
 " Miss Hamilton," answered the little mother ; 
 " and I hope you will be very good, Lilian, 
 and show her how well you can behave at 
 table." 
 
 " I always behave well, Mamma. ' For what 
 we are going to receive, the Lord make us 
 truly thankful ' — What are you laughing at. 
 Uncle Claude? — 'for Christ's sake. Amen,'" 
 said the dignified little specimen of humanity, 
 without changing the tone of her voice or paus- 
 ing for a breath, to the amusement of everyone 
 present. " Uncle Claude " made no attempt 
 to conceal his mirth, but laughed outright ; and 
 even the servants smirked stealthily. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 171 
 
 " Lilian," said her mother, with grave re- 
 proof, as soon as she could command her voice, 
 " that is not the proper way to say grace. Yoa 
 are in too great a hurry ; you must say it over 
 again." 
 
 The little face flushed slightly, and she an- 
 swered shortly : 
 
 " Edyth can." 
 
 "Very well, then; Edyth say it." And so, 
 with much difficulty and a good deal of prompt- 
 ing on the part of her sister, Edyth, who was 
 four years old, managed to get through this 
 tremendous effort of memory, we keeping our 
 heads bowed for an indefinite period of time 
 while Uncle Claude's ill- suppressed amusement 
 kept up a running accompaniment. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas looked at him reproachfully, 
 though her eyes were brimming over with 
 mirth. 
 
 " How naughty you are ! " she exclaimed ; 
 " I will not allow you to come here at all if you 
 teach us such bad manners. "£ 
 
172 THE SHADOW OE A LIFE. 
 
 Captain Douglas made a wry face at Lilian, 
 and said : 
 
 " Only hear what Mamma says, Pussy-cat, 
 that you are teaching me to behave very badly, 
 and she can't allow me to come here any more 
 unless you behave better." 
 
 " Mamma didn't," was the contemptuous 
 reply ; " she said you were naughty, and so you 
 are." 
 
 " Very well. Miss ; I shall remember this. 
 No ride on the pony for you this afternoon. 
 I will have Mabel instead, who is much nicer 
 than you. What are these, Amy? Chutton 
 mops ? Will you have one, Constance ? " 
 
 " No, Claude, thank you ; and they are not 
 mutton chops, but lamb cutlets," said his 
 cousin, smiling; *' perhaps Miss Hamilton will 
 have one ? " 
 
 " If you please," I answered nervously, al- 
 most frightened at the sound of my own voice, 
 which I had hardly heard before that day. 
 
 He looked at me across the table as I spoke, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 173 
 
 and I at once dropped my eyes on to my empty 
 plate. 
 
 There was not a great deal of very solid 
 conversation at luncheon. Sir Leopold's 
 health was discussed, and Lady Constance told 
 her cousins that she had left him in good hands, 
 for her kind doctor had promised to pay him a 
 long visit that afternoon. Mr. Douglas asked 
 me if I had ever visited Wentworth before, 
 and what I had thought of the country as I 
 passed through, whether I liked children, and 
 finally, hinted at the misty future by hoping 
 that I should not find these troublesome. 
 
 Captain Douglas meantime devoted himself 
 to his small nieces, who sat one on each side 
 of him. He cut up Mabel's chicken, and was 
 playfully scolded by his sister-in-law for giving 
 Lilian too much jelly. He hardly spoke to 
 me, and rarely looked at me ; whereupon I 
 wondered whether he resented my behaviour 
 to him in the train. On the whole, I found it 
 all a little stiff. Mrs. Douglas was shy, and I 
 
174 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 likewise. She said very little to me, and when 
 she did speak there was a certain awkward 
 manner about her which made me feel still 
 more conscious, though I was sure she meant 
 to be kind. Altogether I was not sorry when 
 luncheon was over, and began to wish that we 
 were once more in the train and on our way 
 back to Halton. 
 
 After luncheon it was proposed that we 
 should all go down to the hay-field which 
 adjoined the garden, and have tea with the 
 children, and this plan seemed to give un- 
 bounded satisfaction to all present. But as 
 we had to wait for a little while before it could 
 be brought into action, Mrs. Douglas asked for 
 some music, and Lady Constance prepared to 
 oblige her. Seating herself at the piano, she 
 sang a little trilling Italian song in her rich clear 
 voice, and then followed it by an English ballad 
 sung with sentiment and grace. She rose after 
 a few minutes, and looking to me, asked if I 
 would not allow Mrs. Douglas to hear me sing. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 175 
 
 I looked at her almost imploringly. I felt 
 so nervous and awkward that I was sure I 
 should break down were I to attempt to do so, 
 and yet I did not wish her to think me un- 
 gracious. At her request Mrs. Douglas se- 
 conded it with : '' Pray do, Miss Hamilton, 
 we should so like to hear you." And then 
 I rose, and with trembling hands prepared 
 to play the prelude to one of my simple 
 songs. 
 
 Lady Constance seemed to feel for me, for 
 she smiled sweetly as she passed, and suggested 
 one that she hoped would do me credit. As 
 for Captain Douglas, he was staring out at one 
 of the farther windows, and did not appear to 
 heed anything that was going on within the 
 room. 
 
 The song I had chosen was " Eobin Adair," 
 and one which usually suited me, but to-day 
 my voice seemed to have forsaken me. The 
 words stuck in my throat, and the higher notes 
 trembled and quavered with agitation. I got 
 
176 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 througli one verse with difficulty, and then 
 said impulsively : 
 
 " I can't sing, Lady Constance ; I think I 
 have a cold. Shall I play a waltz for the 
 children ? " 
 
 " Oh, please do," said Lilian, bounding for- 
 ward. '' Come, Uncle Claude, you shall be my 
 partner." 
 
 I felt provoked at the behaviour of her 
 partner, whose tindifference was positively an- 
 noying. As he turned from the window, 
 however, he just glanced towards me, say- 
 ing : 
 
 " Will you not finish your song first. Miss 
 Hamilton?" 
 
 " I am afraid I can't," I answered ; " I have 
 lost my voice to-day." 
 
 He smiled provokingly, which irritated me ; 
 and Lady Constance, who probably appreciated 
 the cause better than I did, whispered under 
 cover of the brilliant waltz into which I now 
 dashed : 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 177 
 
 " I am afraid you have lost your voice, Ella ; 
 you have hardly said a word to us to-day." 
 
 This was what he meant, then, by smiling. 
 If he missed my conversation, he might have 
 endeavoured to encourage it by a few remarks 
 of his own. I blushed again, and putting down 
 the pedals, I played faster than ever, so that no 
 one but a ballet-girl could have kept up with 
 the rapid music. 
 
 "There," said Captain Douglas, throwing 
 himself on to an ottoman at the further end of 
 the room, after pirouetting about with Mabel 
 for a few minutes — " there, Uncle Claude is 
 quite dead now. Miss Hamilton has killed him. 
 Wasn't she cruel, Mabel? " 
 
 " Killed you with kindness, then," interposed 
 the Httle mother, "for I think that was a 
 most charming waltz, and I am sure you all 
 enjoyed it." 
 
 *' I have," said Lilian, whose cheeks were 
 flushed with the exertion of pulling Uncle 
 Claude round ; " didn't you, Mabel ? " 
 
 I. 12 
 
178 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Yes ; I think it was the most beautifullest 
 waltz in all the world," answered Mabel, 
 warmly ; " and now we will have ' Mulberry- 
 bush.' " 
 
 So my tune had to be changed to " Here we 
 go round the Mulberry-bush," over and over 
 again, till finally the players. Mamma included, 
 were sent to school in tears, and came home 
 rejoicing. But it served to set some of us at our 
 ease ; and after it was over, I had found suffi- 
 cient voice to sing " Bo Peep " and *' Little 
 Jack Horner," from a book of Nursery Rhymes. 
 
 " Now, children, run and get your hats on,*' 
 said their mother ; " and then, Claude, we will 
 have one song from you, and depart." 
 
 "What, after all this exertion?" asked 
 Captain Douglas. *' My dear Amy, you must 
 think I have the lungs of a bull." 
 
 '' So you have," said his sister-in-law, play- 
 fully. " Come, Claude, don't be disagreeable. 
 I shall find you a song, and you must 
 sing it." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 179 
 
 She turned over the leaves of a large book, 
 and placed it on the piano. 
 
 " Constance, will you accompany him ? " she 
 said ; "I play so badly." 
 
 The song she had selected was Beethoven's 
 ''Adelaide," which I knew well; but I shall 
 never forget how it struck upon my senses as 
 I heard it sung then. The delicate tenderness 
 of each appeal, the passionate, anguished cry 
 which burst from the lips of the bereaved lover, 
 thrilled me as nothing ever had before. T 
 could hardly describe my sensations ; and when 
 the voice ceased, I seemed to have been brought 
 back to life and reality from another sphere of 
 existence. 
 
 What a voice he had ! what floods of 
 melody poured forth from that strong chest ! 
 Surely this man had a soul, who could feel such 
 music and give expression to it. No wonder 
 he had taken no notice of my poor, feeble 
 attempts at singing; no wonder he smiled at 
 my silly remark that I had lost my voice. I did 
 
 12 * 
 
180 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 not dare to thank him, but I looked at him 
 with eyes of admiration, as his whole being 
 seemed to have changed in that last five 
 minutes. He was evidently unconscious of 
 the impression he had made, however, as he 
 threw himself upon the ottoman, pushed back 
 the hair from his forehead, and said coolly : 
 
 "Well, are we going out?" and then I 
 remembered that I was looking at him, and 
 withdrew my gaze. 
 
 We all went upstairs, and on our way Mrs. 
 Douglas asked if we would like to see the baby, 
 and led the way to the nursery. 
 
 The children were having brown holland 
 pinafores put on over their pretty frocks, and 
 Lilian was having a squabble with the nursery- 
 maid. 
 
 " I tell you, Sarah, I won't have that ugly 
 thing on ; I don't care what you, or nurse, 
 or Uncle Claude, or Mamma, or anybody 
 says " 
 
 She paused as we entered the room, though 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 181 
 
 she still sat sideways upon the rocking-chair, 
 her legs dangling down as she rocked herself 
 backwards and forwards defiantly. 
 
 "Lilian, Lilian, what is this I hear?" said 
 her mother, coming forward. " I am quite 
 shocked. What will Miss Hamilton think ? " 
 
 The small maiden lifted up her blue eyes to 
 my face, and pouted her red lips. She was 
 a lovely little creature, but I began to fear 
 that she would be a very troublesome child to 
 manage. 
 
 " Come," said Mrs. Douglas, gently, " you 
 must have on your brown hoUand, or else we 
 cannot allow you to come out with us.'^ 
 
 The chair rocked faster than before, and the 
 defiant expression remained unchanged. 
 . "Never mind, Sarah," said the mother; 
 " you can dress the others. I am sorry 
 that Miss Lilian will not be able to go out 
 to-day." 
 
 " Not in that frightful old thing, certainly. 1*11 
 go if I may have on my blue silk and a sash." 
 
182 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 "To play in tlie hay-field?" remonstrated 
 her mother. '' Nonsense, Lilian ; of course you 
 cannot be allowed to do such a thing." 
 
 " My white frock, then, what I've got on/' 
 
 "No, certainly not." 
 
 "You have got on a white frock, Mamma, 
 and Miss Hamilton's is nearly white — why 
 mayn't I wear one ? " 
 
 " Because you are a little girl." 
 
 " I wish I was grown up. I should like 
 to be grown up : then I know what I 
 would do." 
 
 " What would you do ? " I asked, kneeling 
 down beside the chair, and endeavouring to 
 change the subject. 
 
 " Why, first I would marry Uncle Claude, and 
 he would give me everything I wanted, choco- 
 late, and jelly, and sweets, and I would drive 
 about in the carriage, and order nice things, 
 and be a grand lady." 
 
 " But grand ladies have to do a great many 
 things that are disagreeable, Lilian," I said, 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 183 
 
 trying to give my first moral precept, which. I 
 had heard shortly before from my father, under 
 cover of the prattle which was going on with 
 baby at the other end of the room. "It is 
 much nicer to be a little girl, and have a dear 
 Mamma to tell you what to do, instead of hav- 
 ing to think for yourself." 
 
 She looked at me incredulously. " You can't 
 remember, Miss Hamilton ; it is such years and 
 years since you were a little girl." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can," I answered, laughing, " and 
 I remember it was very nice. Come out with 
 me, and I will tell you some stories about 
 myself when I was a little girl. Come," and I 
 held out my hand, which she took reluctantly 
 while she slid off her chair. 
 
 " Then I shan't have on my brown holland 
 pinafore, remember." 
 
 " But you must, you know. Your Mamma 
 said you couldn't go out without it, and I shall 
 have to tell the story to Mabel and Edyth if 
 you don't put it on." 
 
184 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 This last remark liad tlie desired effect. She 
 suffered me to array her in the much-despised 
 garment, which I affected to admire greatly, 
 and remarked how Uncle Claude would like it; 
 then turning to the baby, who was a year and 
 a half old and could just toddle about the 
 room, I played with him for a few minutes 
 while the nursery-maid finished off her little 
 charge. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Hamilton," said the 
 mother as we left the room. " You have 
 managed my naughty little girl beautifully. 
 It is the only way with her — to conquer her, if 
 possible, unconsciously to herself." 
 
 " The way with a good many people," I 
 thought, as I turned into the small blue room 
 to get my hat. 
 
 Coming out upon the terrace a few minutes 
 afterwards, I found Lilian waiting for me, and 
 as I took her hand, she claimed the promised 
 story. 
 
 " But Uncle Claude must hear it too," she 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 185 
 
 added, " for lie is going to walk witli 
 
 me." 
 
 "Is he? " I asked, changing colour; "then, 
 Lilian, you must excuse me, I can't tell stories 
 before your uncle." 
 
 " Oh, but you must — you promised, you 
 know, and it's very wicked not to keep your 
 promises. It 's saying what isn't true, and 
 when you die you will go to hell." 
 
 " Miss Hamilton, what doctrines are you in- 
 culcating already ? " said an amused voice 
 behind me, as Captain Douglas approached us 
 from the drawing-room window. 
 
 I could not help laughing. 
 
 " On the contrary, I am being instructed in 
 these mysteries of future punishment myself, 
 because I won't do what Lilian wants me." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle ; she promised to tell me a 
 story about herself when she was a little 
 girl, and now she won't, because you are 
 coming." 
 
 I felt inclined to put my hand before the 
 
186 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 little chatterer's mouth, but Captain Douglas 
 looked straight before him as he answered : 
 
 *' Yes ; Miss Hamilton pretends to be very 
 much afraid of Uncle Claude. I wonder 
 whether she is really a very unkind person. 
 What do you think, Lily ? " 
 
 " I think she is very nice," answered the 
 child ; " she has such pretty soft cheeks, 
 and such a nice mouth. She kissed me just 
 now. Would not you like to kiss her, Uncle 
 Claude?" 
 
 My sensations were too painful for descrip- 
 tion, but Uncle Claude relieved my embarrass- 
 ment by saying, " Lilian, you are a chatter- 
 box," and then turning his head, began to 
 whistle loudly to a large dog, who came 
 bounding towards him. " There, old fellow 
 — down, I say ! that 's quite enough affection. 
 Too much demonstration isn't good in anyone. 
 There — you may have my stick. Now, Miss 
 Hamilton, let 's have the story." 
 
 '' Really, Captain Douglas," I faltered, " I 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 187 
 
 had no story to tell, only I wanted to bribe 
 Lilian to come out, and so I thought I would 
 make up something to amuse her.*' 
 
 " Well, make it up, then. I should like to 
 hear your powers of invention." 
 
 " No ; I couldn't, indeed, before you. If you 
 will promise not to listen, Lilian and I will 
 walk on by ourselves ; won't we, Lilian ? " 
 
 " For a very little tiny while," answered the 
 child ; " but remember, if it isn't a nice story 
 I will come back again," she added in her 
 imperious voice. 
 
 " Miss Hamilton is sure to make it delightful 
 in the prospect of such an alternative," said 
 her uncle. *' Never mind, Lilian ; I love 
 Mabel much better than you, and I will go and 
 give her a ride upon Rover." 
 
 So he left us, while I made up my story 
 about the time when I had been a little girl, 
 and Lilian listened with eager delight while it 
 lasted, and until we had reached our spot in 
 the hay-field. 
 
188 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 There we all spent a merry afternoon, toss- 
 ing the children in the hay, and covering them 
 up ; and even I forgot my shyness, and romped 
 with as much glee as the little ones. 
 
 When we were all tired with our sport, there 
 was the business of collecting sticks and making 
 a fire. By the time the kettle was boiling, I 
 was glad to sink down by the two ladies, and 
 fan my glowing cheeks with my handkerchief. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas thanked me warmly for my 
 kindness to the children, and hoped I was not 
 tired. 
 
 " You must sit here and rest/' she said 
 kindly ; " I will not allow you to exert yourself 
 any more on our behalf. Burton, will you see 
 that Miss Hamilton has a nice cup of tea, if 
 you please." 
 
 Burton — the woman whom I had met in the 
 passage just after my arrival — answered her 
 mistress demurely, and carried out her in- 
 junctions by bringing me a cup of tea, to sugar 
 and cream according to my own fancy. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 189 
 
 It was astonishing how sociable we all grew 
 over that cup of tea. Mr. Douglas threw him- 
 self on the ground beside me, and talked in a 
 genial, pleasant manner, while the children 
 pelted us with hay, and had to be chased and 
 tied to one another with pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 Even Baby Lancelot joined in the fun, and 
 screamed with delight at his sisters' capture. 
 As we walked back to the house I felt as if 
 a load had been lifted off my mind since morn- 
 ing, and my youthful spirit rebounded with as 
 much pleasure as it had before been despond- 
 ing. So this much-dreaded day had termi- 
 nated, and in so different a manner from that 
 which I had anticipated. 
 
 When I went to say good-bye to Mrs. 
 Douglas, I thanked her for my enjoyment; 
 and when she alluded to the future by a de- 
 licately-expressed hope that I would become 
 one of their home circle, I said, more warmly 
 than I could have supposed possible a few 
 hours before, that I should be delighted to do 
 
190 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 SO. T went upstairs to get my things, with 
 very different feelings from those with which I 
 had last entered my little blue room, and almost 
 stumbled over the same servant whom I had 
 before seen in the passage. It was odd that 
 she should have crossed my path a second time, 
 but I had not time to think of her now, for 
 we were already rather late for the train. I 
 hastily gathered my belongings together, in 
 the shape of umbrella and waterproof with 
 which I had provided myself in case of showers. 
 My lace scarf I had laid upon the bed before I 
 went into the hay-field, as I valued it too much 
 to run the risk of its being damaged ; but now, 
 search as I would, it was nowhere to be seen. 
 In vain I looked under the bedstead and toilet- 
 table, turned over the pillows, and searched the 
 drawers. There was not a trace of it, and 
 fearful that I was keeping Lady Constance 
 waiting, I was obliged to go downstairs with- 
 out it. I told Mrs. Douglas of my dilemma, 
 but there was no time now for a second search. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 191 
 
 and I very reluctantly had to go home without 
 it, rather dreading the lecture that would be 
 in store for me when I saw my mother. I 
 knew she would blame me for carelessness, 
 which I felt to be undeserving, and I could 
 only suppose that the woman Burton, who 
 seemed to be a sort of factotum in the house, 
 had discovered its value, and taken possession 
 of it. 
 
192 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DEATH AND DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 " There are none of England's daughters who can show 
 a prouder presence .... 
 What was I that I should love her, save for compe- 
 tence to pain ? " 
 
 Mrs. Browning. 
 
 I WAS very mucli concerned about the fate of 
 the missing scarf, and was considerably re- 
 lieved when the next day it was sent to me 
 by mysterious hands which also brought a note 
 from Mrs. Douglas. It ran as follows : — 
 
 Dear Miss Hamilton, 
 
 I am happy to say that your scarf was found 
 immediately after you left, by one of the servants, who 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE, 193 
 
 brought it downstairs, supposing you to have forgotten 
 it. It was discovered upon the bed in the blue room ; and 
 perceiving that the lace is valuable, I have sent it over 
 to Halton by a messenger, who, I hope, will deliver it 
 safely. I trust that you are quite well after the manner 
 in which you fatigued yourself yesterday. Lilian sends 
 you a kiss, and 
 
 I am, yours very truly, 
 
 Amy Frances Douglas. 
 
 I took this note at once to my mother, 
 carrying the unhicky scarf with me. 
 
 " So it was not lost after all, you see," I said, 
 smiling. 
 
 My mother had been very much put out 
 about the business. Now she said in a re- 
 lieved tone, but irritably still : 
 
 *' Well, that is a good thing. How careless 
 of you, Ella, not to see a thing which was just 
 under your nose. I will go and lock it up in 
 my wardrobe now, and take care how I allow 
 you to have it again." 
 
 It was in vain that I assured her how care- 
 ful I had been with it. My mother was one of 
 those people who, having made up their mind, 
 I. 13 
 
194 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 no argument convinces ; and, conscious that I 
 was .getting the worst of it, I left her. My 
 father, who was present during this discussion, 
 looked worried and uneasy, as he often did 
 when such scenes took place. He did not 
 appear to have taken so much interest in the 
 fate of the scarf as we had, and I knew that 
 he had anxieties of his own to bear. But now 
 I followed him into the hall, struck with the 
 expression of his face, which was even sadder 
 than usual. As I stood with his hat in my 
 hand, which I had been brushing, I ventured 
 to whisper : 
 
 '' Father, are you unhappy? l,What is it ? " 
 
 ** I am anxious, Ella, very. Mrs. Eichards, 
 the grocer's wife, is dying, I am afraid; and 
 Sir Leopold is very ill — I almost fear that he 
 will not live till night." 
 
 "Father!" I gasped in horrified surprise. 
 No wonder our miserable discussion had worried 
 him. " Is he worse, then? " I asked hurriedly. 
 
 "Yes, much worse. He was ill when his 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 195 
 
 wife came liome from Wentworth yesterday, 
 and may not be alive now. I must go, my 
 child, do not detain me." 
 
 " No, I will not," I replied ; '* please give 
 my love, my dear love, to Lady Constance — 
 how I feel for her ! " 
 
 I went back to help my mother with her 
 household duties, but my heart was not in my 
 work. It was with the lady who had been to 
 me my kindest benefactress, my best friend, 
 now plunged into an abyss of grief from which 
 no human hand could extricate her. I could 
 not realise the future for her, the terrible 
 loneliness of her widowhood, the blank which 
 must be created by the loss of him who was 
 dearest to her on earth. My spirit was rest- 
 less, and I longed to know the worst ; but hour 
 after hour of that day went by, and still my 
 father came not, and no sound was brought to 
 us upon the stillness of the air. To add to the 
 length of the day, it was wet. Yery few 
 passers-by disturbed the monotony of our quiet 
 
 13 * 
 
196 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 household, and only the click of my mother's 
 knitting-needles, as they clashed in faint but 
 regular harmony, was heard above our sub- 
 dued conversation. 
 
 At length the sound of wheels rattling over 
 the stones in our ill-paved street was hailed as 
 a relief to our suspense. I flew into the hall 
 just in time to meet my father as he entered. 
 
 *'What news?" I exclaimed, longing yet 
 fearing to hear the answer. "Is he better ? 
 Tell me. Father, please — at once ! " 
 
 " He is gone, Ella," he replied in a solemn 
 voice, and then he passed on into the dining- 
 room. 
 
 I burst into tears as I followed him. No 
 one was within the room, and as he sat down 
 in his arm-chair before the table, I wound my 
 arm round his neck, and pressed his dear head 
 close to me. 
 
 " Do tell me about it ! " I entreated. " How 
 is dear Lady Constance ? is she alone ? " 
 
 ** Better and calmer than I expected. She 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 197 
 
 is alone, with the exception of Sir Leopold's 
 brother, who is there. To-morrow her father 
 and mother will probably arrive." 
 
 *' How I long to go to her ! " I said, letting 
 my tears flow unrestrainedly. " She has been 
 such a kind friend to me — how I would do any- 
 thing for her ! Father, dear, may I go and see 
 her to-morrow ? " 
 
 His lips twitched nervously, an action which 
 was with him expressive of anger or pain, as 
 he said in an agitated voice : 
 
 " 'No, no, my dear, you cannot go now. You 
 would probably be very much in the way. I 
 will go and see her myself early to-morrow 
 morning ; for she is worn out, poor thing, and 
 wants help and advice." 
 
 His face looked so sad that I could hardly 
 comprehend it, though I felt sadness myself. 
 There was a wistful tenderness about it, in 
 spite of its agitation. Why was it that he felt 
 Sir Leopold's death so much more than that of 
 any other patient ? 
 
198 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " You were very fond of him, Father ? *' I 
 said, putting my assertion in the form of a 
 question. 
 
 " Yes. He was very lovable," he answered 
 dreamily, as if to himself. I am sorry, too, for 
 her who has to face the struggle of life and 
 widowhood alone." Then covering his face, he 
 added earnestly, " And I cannot help her." 
 
 I saw that his eyes were wet with tears, as 
 he drew his hands from before them ; and in- 
 wardly pained at the sight of his grief, I 
 brought him a glass of wine which he drank 
 hastily. Then I left him to himself, believing 
 that he wished for solitude ; but after a time I 
 crept back to him. 
 
 I brought his tea with my own hands, and 
 remained beside him while he took it. I won- 
 dered why my mother, who was usually so 
 attentive to his wants, had not been in to do 
 this for him. But she still remained in the 
 drawing-room, as if the death of one patient 
 more or less had no concern for her. When 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 199 
 
 we at length entered tlie room where she was 
 sitting, my father walked over to her, and 
 kissed her upon the forehead. She looked up 
 gratefully, and then saw, as I had done, the 
 haggard expression of his face. 
 
 " Is it over ? " she asked gravely. 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 "How is her ladyship ? " 
 
 " Tolerably well, and calm." 
 
 That was all he said, the same answer which he 
 had given to me. I suppose there was nothing 
 more to say, and my father was at all times 
 reserved. He left the room shortly after to 
 go into his study, whither my mother soon 
 followed him, and we three sat alone talking 
 softly of all that had happened lately, and of 
 our friends' kindness to us. The clock struck 
 ten at last, and this long, weary day had come 
 to an end. "What a contrast to the brightness 
 of yesterday! When my father came in to 
 prayers, his face had recovered its usual calm, 
 though the tender pained look remained ; and 
 
200 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 when we knelt with bowed heads to join with 
 one soul in our worship of God " who doeth all 
 things well," more than one of us noted the 
 falter in that dear voice as it asked for con- 
 solation for all who were afflicted and dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 I heard nothing more of Lady Constance for 
 nearly a fortnight. My father paid his promised 
 visit to her upon the following day, but brought 
 back no tidings except that she was calm 
 and resigned, that she sent her love to me, and 
 thanked me for my little note of sympathy, 
 which had cost me so much pains to indite. 
 Since that day he did not appear to have seen 
 her, and though I knew that he must have 
 attended the funeral, he made no remark about 
 it, and seemed to avoid the subject. I had 
 enough to do within doors to keep me em- 
 ployed, for I had promised to go to Mrs. 
 Douglas in the beginning of September, and 
 the time was rapidly approaching'; but I was 
 disappointed that Lady Constance had expressed 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 201 
 
 no desire to see me. I understood that she had 
 her own relations still with her, but that formed 
 no excuse for her apparent coolness. I could 
 not believe that she was ashamed of my ac- 
 quaintance, for that seemed quite out of keep- 
 ing with the rest of her character, but it was 
 strange that she made no effort to renew the 
 pleasant intercourse which was thus unexpect- 
 edly broken. I missed it painfully myself, I 
 missed the kind little notes, the pleasing smile, 
 the winning voice with which she always 
 greeted me. I missed the sight of her bright, 
 sweet face, as I walked through the town, 
 and felt restless while I longed for a return of 
 these delights. 
 
 But a whole fortnight elapsed before I even 
 saw her again, and I thought it strange that 
 my father, who appeared to know her so well, 
 and who had felt the death of her husband 
 with so much keenness, should seem to desert 
 her now in this great trouble of hers. And 
 yet I knew that he saw no more of her than 
 
202 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I did, or, if he did so, he was reserved even to 
 mystery about it. 
 
 One morning, about a week after the funeral, 
 I was sitting at the window in my own bed- 
 room, when I heard the latch of the side gate 
 click as if opened by a timid hand ; and looking 
 down, I saw the skirt of Mrs. Thorburn's dress 
 whisk past as she rapidly approached the side 
 door on her way to my mother's parlour. Re- 
 membering Edmund's words, and supposing 
 that she had come to obtain all the infor- 
 mation she could about our movements, I 
 gathered my mending together, determined 
 that her usual gossip should be frustrated if I 
 could manage it. I made my way downstairs, 
 timidly creeping along as I did so, that I might 
 come upon her unexpectedly, and so take her 
 unawares. I crossed the hall on tiptoe, but 
 had hardly reached the parlour door, before I 
 upset my work-basket, scattering the contents 
 upon the floor. The door was closed, and I 
 had to grope about in search of the scattered 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 203 
 
 articles, whicli were not very visible through the 
 uncertain light of the small window at the 
 end of the passage. I could hear, however, 
 that she had already begun upon the sad event 
 which had taken place at Milford. 
 
 "Not a very large funeral, I believe," I 
 heard her say. " The Doctor went, I sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 "Yes," said my mother, "he went, but 
 not to the house. He only followed in the 
 brougham." 
 
 "Dear me, did he?" said the questioner. 
 "Now, do you know, we wondered if he 
 
 would. Pa and I said " Here I heard no 
 
 more, for the end of the sentence was finished 
 in an undertone. 
 
 My mother's answer was equally inaudible, 
 but by the answer to it I gathered that it had 
 reference to Lady Constance. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! poor thing ! But law, Mrs. 
 Hamilton, it must be very hard for you." 
 
 "It is that, indeed," my mother uttered. 
 
204 THE SHA.DOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 sighing softly, while I searched for my thimble 
 in the vain hope of bursting in upon them. 
 
 " Her father and mother 's still there, I be- 
 lieve," said Mrs. Thorburn, " and they do say that 
 
 the Earl 's that starched and proud that " 
 
 This was more than I could bear; I hastily 
 turned the handle of the door and walked in 
 upon them, to the evident discomfiture of both. 
 
 « Why, Ella, you come in like a ghost," said 
 my mother, her cheeks flushed with the sudden 
 surprise. 
 
 "Do I, Mother?" I asked, laughing; "it 
 must be a verj^ substantial one if I startle you 
 so. But I have dropped my thimble, and can- 
 not find it in this dark passage. Please allow 
 me to leave the door open for a moment while 
 I look for it." 
 
 I went down on my knees once more, and 
 soon discovered the missing article enveloped 
 in the soft wool of the door-mat, but during 
 my search no word was spoken, and there was 
 evidently no desire to renew the subject. I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 205 
 
 hoped, at length, that I was not interrupting 
 their conversation, to which Mrs. Thorburn 
 made reply, " Oh, law, no, my dear," but she 
 did not offer to continue it, and an awkward 
 pause ensued. It was broken by my mother. 
 
 " We were only speaking of poor Sir Leo- 
 pold's funeral," she said. " Mrs. Thorburn saw 
 it, you know, and she says it was not a very 
 large one." 
 
 " No," said the visitor, " I didn't say that 
 I had seen it. I was only told that it wasn't 
 very large, considering the family 's so well 
 known. But I heard that your Pa was there, 
 Ella." 
 
 I did not answer ; I could not. This 
 woman's words had filled my heart with a 
 tumult, and it was impossible for me to discuss 
 a subject with her upon which we could have 
 no thought in common. Her prying curiosity 
 angered me; her evident knowledge of facts 
 which I had longed to know irritated me. 
 And what did it mean? Why had my father 
 
206 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 not gone to the house of a friend who had 
 been kind to us all, on the occasion of her 
 husband's funeral ? Why had Mrs. Thorburn 
 hinted that " it was very hard '' for my 
 mother? What was hard? My mother had 
 had the same opportunities of knowing Lady 
 Constance as we, but her pride would not 
 permit her to do so, and, therefore, no one 
 was to blame but herself for the apparent 
 slight which was put upon her. But that 
 such a question should be discussed with her 
 by Mrs. Thorburn was more than I could bear 
 patiently. What interest could she have in 
 Lady Constance or her family, or the pride and 
 " starchiness " of the Earl, her father ? And 
 why did my mother permit her to gossip about 
 such affairs in her presence ? 
 
 I felt thankful that I had so effectually put 
 a stop to the conversation, for the present at 
 least, for though my mother tried to keep it 
 up in a feeble sort of way, it fell very flat, and 
 I think Mrs. Thorburn had to own herself 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 207 
 
 beaten this time. There was not much more 
 gossip after this ; and after a few more common- 
 place remarks, the visitor rose, and signified 
 her intention of getting home. 
 
 As soon as she had departed I breathed a 
 sigh of relief, saying : 
 
 " Well, I am glad that she has gone at last. 
 How you can permit her to come in, in the 
 manner that she does, is more than I can 
 imagine. Mother. No one else does so — why 
 should she? " 
 
 '* Who do you mean by ' she ' and ' her ' I 
 should like to know?" said my mother; " that 
 is not a respectful way to speak of any lady, 
 Ella." 
 
 I laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Dearest Mother, please don't call Mrs. 
 Thorburn a lady." 
 
 My mother looked very angry. I saw it, 
 and was sorry the next moment.? 
 
 '' She is as much a lady as you ever knew," 
 she cried, '' till you made all your grand ac- 
 
208 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 quaintances ; and if your head was not so filled 
 with all the fine notions w^hich you have got 
 into it lately, you would be able to treat your 
 friends more civilly. As it is, your conduct 
 is far more vulgar than hers, for it is rude, and 
 that she never is." 
 
 I was hardly prepared for this sudden burst 
 of anger, and winced under its storm; but I 
 would not answer my mother, which, perhaps, 
 only irritated her more. 
 
 " Why did you come down here," she went 
 on, "if it was not for the sake of making a 
 fuss at every word Mrs. Thorburn would say ? 
 If you don't wish to know her, don't know 
 her, but at least be polite to her when you 
 see her." 
 
 "I did not know that I was rude," I an- 
 swered, more meekly than I felt, " and I am 
 very sorry if I have been so ; but I thought 
 you did not wish us to know the Thorburns, 
 and yet Mrs. Thorburn comes here constantly." 
 
 " Well, she comes to see me — not you," re- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 209 
 
 torted my mother; ** and I have a perfect right 
 to see any visitors I choose. You can stop in 
 your bedroom another morning if you prefer 
 your own to Mrs. Thorburn's company." 
 
 But all this anger did not soften my feelings 
 one whit, except outwardly. I did not wish 
 to irritate my mother, but I could not look at 
 Mrs. Thorburn's character in a different light. 
 She might be a worthy woman, but she was 
 not one whom I desired to know as an acquaint- 
 ance. I crept back to my room, where I re- 
 mained for the rest of the morning, not 
 intruding myself into my mother's presence till 
 her anger had subsided. When at length the 
 bell sounded for our early dinner, I came down 
 again, hoping that by this time matters had 
 righted themselves. But our conversation was 
 constrained, as it is apt to be when two people 
 who love each other have had a misunderstand- 
 ing, which neither can correct ; and I was glad 
 to find my father present, for the sake of having 
 someone to sustain the table-talk. 
 
 I. 14 
 
210 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Are you going out in the brougham this 
 afternoon ? " I asked, hoping by this means to 
 escape from my mother's presence for a still 
 longer period. 
 
 " No," he answered. He was going in the 
 trap, but there was no objection to my accom- 
 panying him if I felt inclined to do so. Thus 
 having permission, I was not long in taking 
 advantage of it. 
 
 We had not driven far before I spied in the 
 distance the well-known sight of Lady Con- 
 stance's carriage coming towards us, and as it 
 approached I saw, from my elevated position 
 beside my father, that it contained three people. 
 An elderly lady was sitting beside Lady Con- 
 stance, who, dressed in her deep mourning 
 weeds, was almost invisible behind the thick 
 crape veil which covered her face. Opposite 
 to them was a gentleman who I naturally con- 
 cluded must be Sir Leopold's brother. They 
 seemed to be engaged in conversation, and if 
 it had not been for the slight inclination of her 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 211 
 
 head -witli whicli Lady Constance returned our 
 bow, I might have doubted whether she had 
 seen us at all. I felt my heart beat quickly at 
 this unexpected meeting, and turning to my 
 father, saw, with surprise, that his own face 
 was flushed as if with pain. He bit his lip 
 nervously, and then the colour receding, left 
 his usually pale face paler than it was before. 
 Had he, too, observed the stiffness in my 
 friend's manner, or was it only her grief which 
 had caused it ? I could not tell. In another 
 moment he said naturally : 
 
 " I am glad to see that Lady Constance is 
 going out again." 
 
 " So am I, Father," I answered. " You have 
 not been there lately, have you ? " 
 
 " No, Ella. I never pay unprofessional visits, 
 as you know, and she, fortunately, does not 
 require my services, or she would have sent 
 for me." 
 
 " How did she seem the day of the funeral?" 
 I inquired, ignoring the information which had 
 
 14 * 
 
212 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 come to my ears through my character as 
 eavesdropper. 
 
 "I hardly know," he answered carelessly; 
 " I did not see her that day." 
 
 *' Didn't you, Father ? " I asked. " I thought 
 everyone must have seen her who was there." 
 
 " By no means," said my father; '' it would 
 have been very painful for her to have seen 
 people." 
 
 '' But you, Father, who have been so kind a 
 friend to her in her husband's lifetime ; surely 
 she saw you ? " 
 
 " No, my dear ; I did not inquire for her, 
 and she had her own relations with her." 
 
 Then I saw my father's face flush once more, 
 and I forebore to question him upon a subject 
 which evidently gave him pain, though I longed 
 to know the mysterious truth. Could the 
 presence of her grand relations have prevented 
 her from seeing her doctor, who had been 
 friend and counsellor to her during her hus- 
 band's life ? who had gone, upon the morning 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 213 
 
 after his death, to give "help and advice," 
 which she so sorely needed ? Surely she would 
 have been proud to introduce him to her family 
 as one who had been present both in sickness 
 and in health, and ready to sacrifice himself 
 at any moment to her interests. I could hardly 
 credit her with ingratitude, and yet it seemed 
 strangely like it. If it was so, no wonder that 
 my father felt keenly sore about it. 
 
 He had several visits to pay, and as I sat at 
 the doors of the different houses, my untouched 
 novel open upon my knees, I worried and 
 vexed my soul with these useless questions. 
 Again I saw the carriage meandering slowly 
 in a circuit through bye-streets, and coming 
 round into the open thoroughfare. We were 
 opposite a stationer's shop now, into which 
 my father had gone to visit a little boy who 
 was ill with some childish disorder, and I 
 gathered the reins into my hands with a firmer 
 grasp as I observed the carriage slowly making 
 its way towards me. It stopped facing me. 
 
214 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 as if waiting to pick up someone who had 
 alighted, and I then perceived that there were 
 only two occupants — the strange lady and 
 gentleman. Lady Constance must, therefore, be 
 within the shop, and I turned my eyes in that 
 direction, hoping that I might be able to pene- 
 trate through the darkness sufficiently to discern 
 her well-known form. I was right. Very soon 
 I discovered her standing at the counter, her 
 veil thrown back, as she made her purchase of 
 the deeply-bordered mourning-paper which she 
 was examining. At that moment my father 
 came down the narrow winding stair at the 
 back of the shop, and I looked still more earn- 
 estly to see how she would receive him. I 
 could not see her face, for it was turned from 
 me, but I read in the warm gesture that their 
 friendly relations remained unchanged. She 
 put her slender hand into his with an earnest- 
 ness which convinced me that he was still 
 ranked as a friend among her many others, and 
 then, as he turned to the shopman, she con- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 215 
 
 tinued her purchase as before. Then gather- 
 ing up the long train of her deep mourning 
 dress she came out, the crape veil shadowing 
 her face as before. "Now is my time," I 
 thought, as my heart fluttered at the sight of 
 her approach. I hardly dared to look to- 
 wards her, not knowing how I should address 
 her, how show the sympathy yet delight which 
 I felt. But I might have spared myself these 
 reflections. With a stately bow, the faintest 
 shadow of a smile, she passed from the shop 
 towards her own carriage, her glance only rest- 
 ing upon me for an instant. The hot, angry 
 tears rushed into my eyes as I bent them over 
 the book which I held. I did not venture to 
 lift them again till the carriage rolled away 
 from in front of me, and then forcing them 
 back with a strong effort, I tried to take in the 
 sense of the dancing words. But it would not 
 do ; thoughts would crowd themselves into 
 my mind each time, framing themselves in a 
 new setting, which only rendered them more 
 
216 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 tantalising and inexplicable. Wliat had I done? 
 Had grief so changed her that she had become 
 transformed from the gracious charming friend 
 of a few weeks ago, to the proud cold woman 
 of the world ? or was she ashamed to acknow- 
 ledge me before her relations, as I had felt 
 shame to acknowledge the Thorburns ? Alas ! 
 this was the only construction I could put 
 upon her conduct, and it was very bitter to me. 
 When my father returned I spoke no word, 
 but as soon as I reached my own room I flung 
 myself into a chair, weeping bitter tears, where I 
 was discovered a little later by my sister Agnes. 
 
 " Why, Ella ! " she exclaimed in alarm and 
 surprise, " what is the matter ? Has anything 
 happened to distress you ? " 
 
 I clung to her, sobbing, pouring out all my 
 disappointment and annoyance. 
 
 " Oh, Agnes ! " I cried, " why was she so 
 kind to me if she means to treat me differently 
 in the future ? " (It was what I had dreaded 
 in my new character as governess. ) 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 217 
 
 Agnes was mucli more of a woman tlian I. 
 She kissed me gently and tried to reassure me. 
 
 " There, come and sit on my knee," she said 
 coaxingly, " and we will talk about it. You are 
 too impulsive, Ella ; you jump so suddenly to 
 conclusions. Perhaps Lady Constance was 
 hardly thinking of you then. Eemember that 
 she is in such great trouble. Only think how 
 dreadful it must be to lose one's husband." 
 
 " Yes, I know," I answered slowly; "that 
 might be the reason, but she did not care to 
 see me, evidently, or she would have come for- 
 ward to the carriage. She seemed so cold and 
 stiff in comparison to what she is usually." 
 
 " But you say that she had visitors," said 
 Agnes, " and probably she was in a hurry. 
 Don't fret about it, Ella ; she will be all right 
 with you when you see her again, I daresay." 
 
 "I hope so," I said . earnestly, as I wiped 
 my eyes ; " but it makes me almost afraid to 
 see her again, for I do not know now how I 
 ought to treat her." 
 
218 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I paced up and down my room after Agnes 
 left me, wondering whether such were the 
 world's ways, and I should yet learn to com- 
 prehend them. Alas ! I did not then know 
 how much I should have to learn before I 
 could comprehend the ways of Lady Constance 
 Milford. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 219 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN EVENING AT THE THOEBUENS. 
 
 "Virtue itself offends when coupled with forbidding 
 manner." 
 
 Shahespeare. 
 
 A FEW days after this I sat at work with my 
 mother in her own little parlour. She had 
 recovered her temper long ere this, and we all 
 sat chattering gaily round her, like a nest of 
 young magpies, when the door opened unex- 
 pectedly and Helen Thorburn walked in. 
 
 She had brought a note from her " Mamma '^ 
 she said, requesting that we would all go in 
 for one more friendly evening before Ella left 
 
220 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 home. It might be the last opportunity we 
 should have in the old house, and both Father 
 and Mother desired it. I looked at my mother 
 for reply, and read in her countenance a de- 
 sire to gratify them. We had not spoken 
 upon the unlucky subject since that eventful 
 day in which I had incurred her displeasure, 
 and I had no wish to do so a second time. 
 Distasteful as the prospect might be, I knew it 
 was not worse for me |than for Agnes, and 
 as I should probably leave them altogether 
 before long, one day more or less would not 
 make much difference. I was to go to Mrs. 
 Douglas on Monday, and this was Tuesday of 
 the previous week, so that there was not much 
 time before me. I had heard nothing of Lady 
 Constance since our unexpected rencontre, and 
 hardly expected to do so, but I was feeling a 
 little hurt that the presence of her relatives 
 should have thus debarred me from her society 
 After pleading with my mother that Edmund 
 should also be one of the party, Helen turned 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE, 221 
 
 to me, and seconded her mother^s invitation 
 with an entreaty of her own. 
 
 " You will come, Ella, won't you ? " she said, 
 her round plump cheeks dimpling into a smile 
 as she spoke. *' No one will be there, you 
 know. You must bring your work, and Pa 
 hopes that we shall have a song or two." 
 
 *' Thank you," I muttered, with a cordiality 
 which was far from my real feeling. I could 
 not think what else to say, or what excuse 
 could be found for my refusal, but I resolved 
 to ask my father's opinion upon the subject 
 before I gave a final answer. 
 
 " How long is it since you have been there ? " 
 was his question as I told him of the invitation, 
 and when I answered that I had not once visited 
 them in this way since my return from school, 
 he said, " Then, Ella, I am afraid that you must 
 go. We must keep on good terms with these 
 people, and it is really very good of them to 
 invite you at all, when you are so persistent 
 in refusing them." 
 
222 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 So it was settled. Edmund was to accompany 
 my mother, Agnes, and myself to one of the 
 old-fasliioned tea-drinkings, and I had nothing 
 to do but to comply, although I could have 
 danced the whole way there with annoyance. 
 I had to content myself, however, with un- 
 charitable whisperings about the evening we 
 were likely to spend, and felt almost inclined 
 to be angry with Agnes for her equanimity. 
 But Agnes always made up her mind to the 
 inevitable, and was too much of a philosopher 
 to grumble as I too often did. She walked 
 down the street in her quiet, stately way, her 
 small mouth pursed up gravely, while I alter- 
 nately fretted and laughed. My mother and 
 Edmund talked gently behind us, and I thought 
 that I must be the only discontented member 
 of the party, which was very likely the case. I 
 was just in the mood to turn to ridicule every- 
 thing I saw and heard, and in this amiable 
 spirit arrived at Mrs. Thorburn's door. 
 
 We were not expected to go through the 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 223 
 
 shop upon these occasions. There was a 
 private passage leading to the back parlour, 
 and up the stairs to the sitting-room, which 
 boasted of its own door and bell, and through 
 this we were ushered by the untidy handmaiden 
 who admitted us. As it was a fine night we 
 had only clad ourselves lightly, and, therefore, 
 refused her pressing invitation to "go upstairs 
 and lay the things on Missus' bed." 
 
 " Or, maybe, you '11 'ang 'em 'ere," she 
 said, indicating a row of pegs at the end of the 
 passage ; " this 'ere 'ook is free, for me and 
 Miss EUun 's been and took down some of the 
 'ats and things, and put 'em under the parler 
 sofa." 
 
 Agnes glanced at me, and this, together with 
 my foolish, excited frame of mind, upset me 
 completely. I could hardly control my fea- 
 tures sufficiently to present myself at the 
 " parler " door, but my amusement was evi- 
 dently taken as an index of amiability, and 
 Mr. Thorburn came forward himself in his 
 
224 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 loud, fussj way, and extended a hand with 
 very black nails. 
 
 " Law bless 'ee, Mother, it is Ella herself 
 after all ! And thou 'rt growin' a pretty 
 wench, lass, and no mistake." 
 
 I set my teeth tightly together. I knew 
 that Mr. Thorburn could express himself 
 better than this if he chose, and why he should 
 use this form of speech when addressing him- 
 self to me I could not understand, unless he 
 hoped to give me annoyance. 
 
 I shook hands with him graciously, however, 
 and saluted the party generally ; even George, 
 who had been in the shop now for a long time, 
 and was almost as "loud" in his manner as 
 Mr. Thorburn. I marked the contrast between 
 him and my own brother, and gave an inward 
 sigh to think that two who were so widely 
 apart in every particular should be thrown into 
 contact in this manner. But Edmund was 
 standing by the Httle table which stood in the 
 window, talking to Annie Thorburn, and took 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 225 
 
 but little notice of the other young man, who 
 now presented himself to my sister Agnes. 
 
 " What 's that you 're doing ? " he asked, as, 
 the business of the evening having begun, she 
 took a strip of embroidery from her work- 
 basket, and prepared herself for work upon it. 
 
 " Some trimming for Ella," she replied in 
 her quiet voice, without looking at him. 
 
 " Trimming, eh ? Now what for, I should 
 like to know ? " 
 
 " That I can't tell you," answered my sister, 
 gravely, *'for I do not know myself." 
 
 " Oh, come, that 's very fine ; you don't 
 tell me," said her refined companion. 
 
 "Agnes," I asked, suddenly, by way of 
 stopping the conversation, " have you another 
 needle ? Mine has become dull, and I have 
 not an emery cushion with me." 
 
 " Do you want an emery cushion ? " asked 
 Helen ; '' there is one just behind you in that 
 workbox, Agnes, on the table. George, you 
 can get it." 
 
 I. 15 
 
226 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " All serene ! " was the reply ; '' don't you 
 move, Agnes," as slie liad turned towards tlie 
 table. He opened the box, took the article 
 from it, and handed it towards her ; but just 
 as she held out her hand for it he snatched it 
 away. He repeated this once or twice, to the 
 amusement of his two younger sisters, who 
 watched the game with interest. Then he said, 
 *' "What will you give me for it ? " 
 
 "Nothing," said Agnes; ''I don't want it 
 myself ; it is for Ella." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! then Ella shan't have it. — 
 What will you give me if I give it to you ? " 
 
 " Isn't he a torment ? " said Kate. 
 
 Neither Agnes nor I spoke, and finding that 
 we did not appreciate the joke so well as his 
 sisters, he said : 
 
 " Oh, I see you 're not up to snuff. Here, 
 take it." 
 
 Agnes took it from his hand, with which he 
 immediately covered her own, giving it a tight 
 pressure. I saw the poor child's face crimson 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 227 
 
 with annoyance, and the two girls giggled. As 
 she handed it to me, I said, " Come and sit beside 
 me, dear," and I suppose I must have looked 
 very cross, for Kate Thorburn said uneasily : 
 
 *' I hope you are not angry, Ella ; you must 
 not mind George's teasing." 
 
 " I mind his vulgarity," I might have said, 
 but stopped myself before the words were 
 uttered, and took the opportunity of moving 
 my chair to accommodate the large tea-tray 
 which was being borne aloft by Marianne at 
 this moment. 
 
 Fortunately that broke the thread of our 
 ideas. George had gone to open the door in 
 answer to repeated thumps on the part of 
 Marianne with the said tea-tray, and probably 
 had a regard for his mother's china if it con- 
 tinued. He had not time, therefore, to observe 
 the scowl on my face. 
 
 " Please, Ma'am," said the attendant advanc- 
 ing into the middle of the room, and speaking 
 in a loud voice, "Mr. 'Unter ain't sent the 
 
 15 * 
 
228 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 muffins." She deposited the tea-tray, as she 
 spoke, with a ban^ on the round table, which 
 made every tea-cup quiver. 
 
 "Now, then, Marianne, you fool," said her 
 master, " what are you about ? Do you want 
 to break the crockery ? " 
 
 " JN'o, Sir, and I ain't a fool," she answered 
 glibly, as if she were accustomed to this mode 
 of address on his part. " Please, Ma'am, what 
 shall we do about the muffins ? " 
 
 "Muffins ! Oh, hang the muffins ! " said her 
 master. " Let 's see, muffin rhymes with 
 ' nuffin,' don't it, Nell ? " pinching his youngest 
 daughter's cheek. " We can go without muffins 
 for one night." 
 
 " Oh, no. Pa, we can't," said his wife. "How 
 stupid of that man, now ! and I gave him the 
 order myself, for the seed-cake, and the muffins, 
 and everything. Cake come, Marianne ? " 
 
 " No, Ma'am, nothin' ain't come," said the 
 maiden. 
 
 " Where 's cook ? " said Mrs. Thorburn ; 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 229 
 
 " can't she go and get them ? It isn't far, you 
 know," she added apologetically. 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am " — the girl paused and hesitated 
 — '' please. Ma'am, Cook's gone out." 
 
 "Out!" shouted Mr. Thorburn; '' where 's 
 she gone, I should like to know ? " 
 
 " She 's out a-walking with her young man," 
 answered the girl, while Agnes and I bent our 
 heads over our work in amusement. 
 
 " Well, then, the sooner she comes in, the 
 better," said Mr. Thorburn defiantly, " her and 
 her young man too. I '11 allow no such goings 
 on as this without my leave. Where's your 
 young man ? " 
 
 The girl blushed. 
 
 " I ain't got one. Sir," she said de- 
 murely. 
 
 " Oh, I say, what a cram ! " said George, 
 with a wink ; " who was that fellow behind 
 the kitchen door just now ? " 
 
 Marianne's rosy face became almost like a 
 peony. 
 
230 THE SHADOW" OF A LIFE. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, Sir," slie 
 answered ; " there ain't no one behind the 
 kitchen door." 
 
 " George, be quiet," said the more gentle 
 mother. " Let me see : you might as well go to 
 Hunter's yourself for the muffins ; it is but a 
 step." 
 
 "Not I," was the gracious reply; "if you 
 want anyone to do your servants' work, you 
 can get someone besides me." 
 
 Edmund rose at once. 
 
 " Mrs. Thorburn, pray allow me to go — 
 indeed, I should like to do so." 
 
 He looked so beautiful, so graceful, as he 
 bent forward towards her, that my heart 
 thrilled with admiration for him ; but she would 
 not hear of it. 
 
 "No, indeed, Mr. Edmund, you shan't," she 
 said firmly. " I couldn't think of allowing 
 such a thing. But, Marianne, you must go : I 
 see no help for it." 
 
 " Very well. Ma'am," said Marianne ; " but 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 231 
 
 please, Ma'am, can I speak to you in the pas- 
 sage? " 
 
 Mrs. Thorburn rose and went out, holding 
 the door in her hand while they spoke in a 
 loud, audible whisper, from which I gathered 
 that though Marianne hadn't a young man, 
 and it was only Mr. George's joke about 
 the kitchen door, there was a '' young 
 person " downstairs at that moment who 
 would just run down the street and fetch 
 the unlucky mufl&ns. Having thus settled 
 it, Mrs. Thorburn returned with a mys- 
 terious face, but had hardly crossed the 
 room before a bell was heard to ring from 
 below. 
 
 " Here they be. Ma'am," was the announce- 
 ment from the peony face as it presented itself 
 within the door for a moment. 
 
 After some minutes' delay, in which, fortu- 
 nately for us, Cook had returned, the muffins 
 made their appearance, and we all did ample 
 justice to the excellent tea which was provided, 
 
232 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 although we knew that there was a supper to 
 follow. 
 
 After tea I sang a few of my old songs, which 
 Mr. Thorburn, who really seemed fond of music, 
 appeared to admire greatly. 
 
 " Why, you 'd do for the stage," he said, " if 
 you was to practise a bit. Why don't you have 
 some lessons ? " 
 
 I knew very well why, but I could not say 
 so to him. 
 
 '' There is no one to teach me," I answered. 
 
 " Oh, pooh, pooh," he said pompously, "you 
 don't tell me — plenty of people, plenty of 'em. 
 Now I tell you what, Ella ; if you feel disposed 
 to get a few lessons, and improve that fine 
 voice of yours, I don't mind standing treat for 
 you — there now." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Thorburn," I said, trying 
 to feel grateful — but I clenched my hands 
 together tight with the thought that we were 
 already under obligation to this man — "I don't 
 think I care about it; but I am very much 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 233 
 
 obliged to you all the same." Then I moved 
 away from the piano, fearful that he would 
 follow up the subject. But he did not, which 
 was a relief, though he followed me into my 
 corner of the room where I had once more 
 seated myself with my work, and began talking 
 about the new house, and saying how soon he 
 hoped to be in it. " It '11 take a deal of fur- 
 niture, though," he added, " and I mean to 
 have everything in first-rate style." 
 
 I wondered if Marianne and the Cook were 
 to be the two servants who would assist in 
 keeping up the style of this mansion, but of 
 course I did not speak. In fact, I was always 
 a little afraid of Mr. Thorburn, and anxious to 
 keep on good terms with him. 
 
 " It is a very pretty house," I said. 
 
 *' It is, and well built too : I saw to all the 
 details of it myself. Yes, I have been in good 
 houses in my day, and I know how the thing 
 ought to be done ; and if I had more time for it, 
 Miss Ella," he said, speaking confidentially, " I 
 
234 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 should look after those servants a bit, and teach 
 'em how to do their duty. Why, bless 'ee, 
 they neither of 'em know how to work, not 
 as work ought to be done. I caught Marianne 
 polishing one of the knives on our best table- 
 cloth, the other day, but I wigged her for it 
 pretty tidily. I don't think she will do it 
 again." 
 
 " I suppose you will have other servants 
 when you go to your new house, Mr. Thor- 
 bum, will you not ? " I asked ; " these would 
 hardly be sufficient for you." 
 
 " Oh, bless you, yes ! My wife wants to 
 have a footman, and all the lot of 'em ; but I 
 think she '11 find that rather too much to see 
 after. But, you see, I 've been prudent, Miss 
 Ella," he continued in a hoarse whisper ; " I 've 
 not lived over this shop all these years for 
 nothing. Why, I've been saving money, my 
 girl, and now I mean to enjoy it." 
 
 This was a pleasing revelation to me, who 
 hoped that now he was so rich he was not in 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 235 
 
 need of the money which my father owed him. 
 He poked his face into my own as he^ made 
 the conj&dential announcement, and I had vague 
 fears that he had been drinking, and shrank a 
 Httle from him. I do not know whether he 
 observed it, but he said warmly a minute 
 afterwards, " And you '11 come and see us, 
 Miss Ella, then, won't you — a bit more than 
 you do now ? We 're old friends, you see. 
 I 've known your father and mother for many 
 a long year. Why, I knew their fathers and 
 mothers afore 'em; so I ought to be con- 
 sidered an old friend if ever there was one, 
 oughtn't I, now?" 
 
 What could I say in answer to such a ques- 
 tion ? I could not contradict it, for no facts 
 had ever been brought to my knowledge of 
 the relative position that this man occupied 
 towards us. I had never heard of my own 
 relations on either side of the familv, and knew 
 nothing of their existence. He seemed to be 
 in the possession of facts which were a mys- 
 
236 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 tery to me, and I longed to inquire farther 
 particulars ; but my pride would not allow me 
 to seek my information from such a quarter. 
 So I held my peace, while inwardly burned 
 the fire of longing desire to know the truth. 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Thorburn," I 
 stammered at length, '*and I am sure you 
 have always been a friend to my father. I 
 think he fully appreciates it." Then I paused, 
 with the uncomfortable sensation that I was 
 saying as much as it was prudent for me to say. 
 
 *' Do you, indeed ? " said Mr. Thorburn earn- 
 estly, his florid face within two inches of my 
 own. " Well, now, do you know, I sometimes 
 think he don't. He 's uncommon high and 
 mighty, is your father — always was, from a 
 boy — and I 've known him, boy and man, as I 
 just before remarked." 
 
 " Have you ? " I asked suddenly, hoping 
 that my question would elicit something be- 
 yond the bare fact. " Did you know him when 
 he was a boy, Mr. Thorburn ? " 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 237 
 
 " I should think so — rather," he said in an 
 important voice, and eyeing me as he spoke. 
 " Him and me was great friends once, better 
 than we are now, by a long chalk. Has he 
 never said so ? " 
 
 ** JSTo," 1 answered, blushing rather nervously, 
 " I don't think he has. But I can understand 
 your not seeing much of him now. He never 
 visits people unless in the way of his profession, 
 and I am glad to find that you do not often 
 want him in that way." 
 
 This little speech appeared to me quite a 
 triumph of eloquence and tact, and I took 
 credit to myself for having turned it so neatly. 
 
 *'You don't think, then, that he means to 
 lord it over me some of these days, do you, 
 Ella ? " said the man, earnestly. 
 
 I felt almost frightened by his tone and 
 manner as I looked at his round face and 
 twinkling blue eyes held so closely to my own. 
 
 *'Mr. Thorburn, what can you mean?" 1 
 said, in a startled tone. '' My father never 
 
238 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 lords it over anyone ; lie is always gentle and 
 good : at least, I liave never known him other- 
 wise." 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course ; and lie is quite the 
 gentleman," he said in a soothing tone ; " but 
 I have been a good friend, Ella, and helped him 
 through a deal of trouble when he hadn't many 
 friends nor sixpences either. I hope he don't 
 forget it." 
 
 " You may be sure he does not," I answered, 
 startled by his vehemence ; "no one ever had 
 a better, a more generous, noble mind. Oh ! 
 Mr. Thorburn, I do love my father so ; please 
 never say anything against him." My voice 
 faltered, as I felt a sudden, nameless, vague 
 fear. 
 
 '' I, lass ? " he said, as if touched by my 
 appeal; "I've nought to say against him. 
 Only you be more friendly. Miss Ella, with 
 my girls, and don't hold your head so high. 
 You 're seeing too much high society, I 'm 
 thinking, and it isn't good for you." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 239 
 
 This was going a little too far. He might 
 upbraid me for my coolness towards his family, 
 but he should not interfere with the society in 
 which I chose to move. I drew my head up 
 very stiffly and said : 
 
 " I suppose my father is the best judge of 
 what my society ought to be, Mr. Thorburn." 
 
 " There you go — a chip of the old block, if 
 there ever was one. I don't mind your know- 
 ing high families, my girl, so long as you don't 
 forget your old friends." 
 
 *' Oh, I shall not do that," I answered, 
 turning to Annie Thorburn, who now came 
 up with a request for another song. I rose 
 with alacrity, glad to put an end to a conver- 
 sation which was growing a little beyond my 
 control, and went to the piano, while she 
 stood beside me turning over the leaves of my 
 music. I took occasion, before seating myself, 
 to glance towards Agnes, who was sitting in a 
 corner by the fire, and then I saw that George 
 Thorburn had taken his station by her again, 
 
240 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 and was carrying on the same sort of ill-bred 
 banter which had before disturbed her. Mr. 
 Thorburn joined the group as I left him; and 
 when the song was over, Annie went downstairs 
 to make arrangements for supper. Then a 
 round game of cards was suggested, which 
 lasted some time, and which created so much 
 amusement, in spite of our incongruous feelings, 
 that I found myself laughing heartily. I was 
 just beginning to think that, upon the whole, 
 this evening had not been such a terrible ordeal 
 as I had anticipated, when the rosy-faced maiden 
 presented herself once more at the door with 
 the announcement, delivered in a loud voice, 
 and all in the same tone : 
 
 " Supper is hup ! " 
 
 The last word was extremely emphatic and 
 seemed to take a prodigious effort to make all 
 three letters distinctly audible, but it evidently 
 did not strike anyone but me, and was a wel- 
 come sound to Mr. Thorburn, at least, who 
 exclaimed : 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 241 
 
 " That 's joyful information. Come, girls, 
 put up your traps. What 's the old rhyme ? 
 
 * Nineteen, twenty, my ' ahem ! What 's 
 
 the rest. Mother?" 
 
 "Come, Pa! Pa! mind vour manners," said 
 his wife ; which reproof was, however, lost 
 upon me, for I did not know to what she 
 alluded. 
 
 "Now, then ! come along," he said fussily; 
 " here, Mrs. Hamilton, take my arm. Mind 
 the narrow staircase, though. We '11 give you 
 a better when you come to the new place. 
 George, are you taking care of Miss Ella ? " 
 
 " Well, I can't take both, Father," replied the 
 son ; " and Miss Ella won't have me ; she pre- 
 fers Annie. Here, Annie, you two go first : age 
 before honesty, you know; that's the style," 
 and he galloped poor Agnes down the stairs 
 to the tune of a popular air, while I thought 
 every moment we should be thrown down 
 headlong. Fortunately, however, no such 
 catastrophe occurred, and we reached the foot 
 I. 16 
 
242 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 of the stairs in safety ; but I saw Agnes' proud 
 indignant face, and knew that he had taken 
 this opportunity of giving her hand another 
 pressure like that which had annoyed her so 
 much before. 
 
 *' Now, girls, fire away," said the host, after 
 plentifully distributing chicken and beefsteak 
 pie, and calling Marianne " a fool " again for 
 having given him the wrong carving knife and 
 fork. " I hope everyone isn't as hungry as I 
 am, or else we shall make the dishes look a 
 little foolish. Edmund, you '11 have beer ? " 
 
 " Thanks," said my brother, briefly. " Ella, 
 what are you having ? " 
 
 " Why, nothing, I do declare ! " exclaimed 
 George. ''Perhaps she lives upon love, like 
 me." Here he nudged Agnes, who sat next 
 him. 
 
 *' No, thank you,J Edmund; I do not wish 
 for anything but water," I answered, glad of 
 the occupation of eating to prevent my being 
 obliged to talk. Mr. and Mrs. Thorburn, my 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 243 
 
 mother, and Annie kept up most of the con- 
 versation, Edmund and George had evidently 
 nothing in common, Agnes and I were silent, 
 and the younger girls giggled. 
 
 "And what are you going to do, Ned?" 
 asked George, when supper was half over, 
 turning to Edmund. 
 
 "Are you speaking to me ? " asked my 
 brother, coldly. 
 
 " Of course," answered George, with his 
 mouth full ; " who else do you suppose I 'm 
 speaking to ? I was asking what you intended 
 to do with yourself." 
 
 " In what way? " said Edmund. 
 
 "Why, to make a little tin, to be sure. 1 
 suppose you intend to do something, like the 
 rest of us. Going to be a sawbones, perhaps ?" 
 
 "A what?" said Helen. 
 
 " A sawbones. Simpleton ; don't you know 
 what that is ? A fellow that cuts you up and 
 puts you in pickle." 
 
 " Ugh ! " said Kate, shuddering ; " how 
 
 16 * 
 
244 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 horrid ! Isn't it nasty of him to talk so at 
 supper, Ella ? " 
 
 *' Very," I said coldly. 
 
 "No," answered Edmund; " I am not going 
 to be a surgeon, I think, George. I may pro- 
 bably leave Halton altogether, but my move- 
 ments are undecided at present." 
 
 " And a deuced lucky fellow you are if you 
 do it," answered George. " I only wish I had 
 the opportunity of cutting this old concern, 
 and I 'd do it fast enough." 
 
 " What 's that you 're saying, George ? " 
 asked the father, turning towards him. 
 
 '' Only that I don't care for Halton, Father, 
 and wish I could get away from it." 
 
 '' Come, now, none of that," answered his 
 father; "you know what side your bread is 
 buttered on, so don't be a fool. It will be the 
 worst day's work you ever did to turn your 
 back on old Halton ; so stick to your work, my 
 boy, like a brick, and you won't regret it." 
 
 George did not answer, for a wonder, for I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 245 
 
 quite expected this to be the beginning of a 
 discussion. I took the opportunity of admiring 
 some roses which were arranged in a soup-plate 
 in the middle of the table, in company with a 
 sprig or two of larkspur and some asparagus 
 seed, and sent Mr. Thorburn off into a pre- 
 amble about his roses, which " lie 'oped to see 
 in better condition when they got to the new 
 place." 
 
 I was greatly relieved when my mother at 
 length rose from the table, and " thought it 
 must be growing late." We made our way into 
 the passage to get our shawls, and there George 
 offered to accompany us to our own door. It was 
 in vain we thanked him, and pleaded the short 
 distance which it was for us to go ; he only 
 made this serve as a further excuse, and at 
 length we had to yield. 
 
 "But where in all the world's my bat?" 
 he exclaimed, after fumbling about in all direc- 
 tions. " Marianne, what, in the name of good- 
 ness, has become of my hat ? " 
 
246 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " I think it 's upstairs/' answered the maid; 
 " I *11 fetch it for you in a minute." 
 
 '' Well, I like that," he exclaimed, as she 
 disappeared up the stairs. "What do you 
 suppose she 's got it upstairs for ? " 
 
 We had some recollection of the information 
 which had been given us on our arrival con- 
 cerning the '' 'ats and things," and I had hard 
 work to restrain my laughter, more especially 
 as he declared himself impatient of waiting any 
 longer, and insisted upon putting on his 
 mother's old bonnet, which had hung there for 
 many years. He had just arrayed himself in 
 it, and had announced his intention of walking 
 home through the High Street adorned in this 
 manner, when Marianne returned, running 
 down the stairs with a hat in her hand. 
 
 " Is this yours, Sir ? " 
 
 His appearance in his mother's garden bonnet 
 which had been familiar to us from childhood, 
 and with a cigar between his teeth, completely 
 upset our gravity, and we laughed heartily. 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 247 
 
 *' Where did you get it from ? " lie asked, 
 without removing the cigar from his mouth or 
 the bonnet from his head. 
 
 " Underneath the parler sofa, Sir," she an- 
 swered ; " me and Miss Ellun put it there." 
 
 " Then you and Miss Ellun may go to Bath 
 for your impudence. Who told you to inter- 
 fere with my hat ? " 
 
 " Missus said as we was to," said Marianne, 
 sulkily ; " there wasn't no other place, and we 
 ain't hurt it, I 'm sure. Come, just you put it 
 on and see." 
 
 He took off the bonnet, and tried on the 
 other, which immediately tilted over on to his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Why, bless my soul ! " he exclaimed ; 
 " whose hat is this, in the name of wonder ? " 
 
 " I don't know, if it ain't yours," said Mari- 
 anne. 
 
 " Well, it ain't mine, then ; it 's Father's, you 
 noodle ! " he said angrily. " Go and fetch 
 something to put on, for gracious' sake, and 
 
248 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 don^t keep us here all night. Anything 'all 
 do : one of Ma's nightcaps, if you can't find 
 anything else handy," he shouted after her. 
 
 " Oh, G-eorge, don't you take so much 
 trouble," said my mother ; " we shan't be two 
 minutes getting home; we needn't take you." 
 
 *' Oh, the trouble 's a pleasure," he answered 
 gallantly, " if I could find this concern, and I 
 may as well find it now as never. Why, here 
 it is ! " he suddenly exclaimed, stooping down 
 to a black coal-scuttle full of coals, which stood 
 at a corner of the passage, ready for use the 
 next morning, upon which the hat was gently 
 reposing. " That 's mine, safe enough. Now 
 let 's give Marianne the slip while she 's up- 
 stairs hunting for it." 
 
 We were only too glad to get away at any 
 price. Agnes tucked her arm into mine, and 
 clung to me tightly, while Edmund took my 
 mother. George Thorburn came to the other 
 side of my sister, but gave up the attempt 
 when he saw that she was determined not to 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 249 
 
 take his arm. He only contented himself with 
 another squeeze of her poor little hand as she 
 reached our door, and then I saw the tears 
 spring to her eyes, though she ran upstairs at 
 once to conceal them. I followed her to the 
 room which we now all three shared in common, 
 and throwing my arms round her, exclaimed : 
 
 " "Well, here we are at home at last, and I 
 will never, never spend an evening at the 
 Thorburns again as long as I live." 
 
 I kept my word. I never did spend another 
 evening with the Thorburns. 
 
250 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I MAKE A PAINFUL DISCOVERY. 
 
 " What if with her sunny hair, 
 And smile as sunny as sweet, 
 She meant to weave me a snare." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 My spirit was becoming ruffled. Only five 
 more days could elapse before I should leave 
 Halton to begin my new work, and yet no sign 
 had been brought to me that Lady Constance 
 wished to see me before my departure. I had 
 not seen her since the day that our unexpected 
 meeting had caused me such a shock of sur- 
 prised disappointment, and it did not seem 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 251 
 
 likely that I should do so. But the day after 
 we had spent the eventful evening at the 
 Thorburns, I was walking down the street 
 with Mildred when we saw the large carriage 
 from Milford in the distance, evidently on its 
 way to the station. I could discern the figures 
 of two people within it, and soon saw that 
 they were those of the elderly lady whom I 
 had before met, and an old gentleman who was 
 seated beside her. Lady Constance was not 
 there : evidently her sorrow had caused her 
 reluctance to appear in public. The old lady 
 had no veil over her face this time, and as the 
 carriage drove past us, curiosity impelled me 
 to look at her. A quiet, subdued face it was, 
 with very white hair rolled back from the 
 forehead. The old gentleman looked older 
 thatishe did by at least ten or fifteen years, 
 and had a cold, proud expression, in spite of 
 his handsome features. The lines in his face 
 were somewhat hard, and there was a stern- 
 ness about the mouth which contrasted un- 
 
252 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 favourably with tlie gentleness of his wife's 
 face. I thought of his being " that starched 
 and proud," and felt that such a character was 
 not unlikely. 
 
 "That 's Lady Constance's father and mother," 
 said Mildred, excitedly, " the Earl and Countess 
 of Brantford. I wish we could have seen their 
 faces a little better, don't you, Ella ? " 
 
 " Not particularly," I answered shortly. 
 " It would have done you vevj little good if 
 you had, for I am sure they never thought of 
 you." 
 
 " Very likely not," said Mildred, wickedly, 
 " they were so much taken up with looking at 
 you. Is that what you mean, Ella ? " 
 
 " No, naughty Milly, not at all." 
 
 "But I should like to have seen more of 
 them," said Mildred, with all the persistency 
 of a child. "We have to go down by the sta- 
 tion to see Jemmie Browning. Let us go that 
 way now, and then we can see them before the 
 train comes in, if we walk fast." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 253 
 
 " And stand and stare at them with our 
 mouths open," I said, laughing. " No, thank 
 you, Mildred, I would rather not." 
 
 " But you have to go that way," persisted 
 Mildred, " and we may as well pay our visit 
 now as later. Come, Ella, do." 
 
 As I seldom thwarted my little sister, I 
 allowed her to lead me whither she would, not 
 as reluctant to follow, be it said, as my words 
 would seem to imply. A second time we had the 
 opportunity of glancing at the two strangers, 
 for the carriage was standing before the sta- 
 tion as we approached it, the train not having 
 come in. Then we walked onwards to Mrs. 
 Browning's cottage. 
 
 But as we came up the High Street again an 
 unexpected sight met my eyes. The carriage 
 was before our own door, and the servant was 
 clambering up to his place beside the coach- 
 man. He must have left some note or mes- 
 sage, and my breath quickened at the thought 
 as we walked rapidly homeward. I met Agnes 
 
254 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 in the hall, and immediately inquired the result. 
 A note, she answered, which her father had 
 taken in ; she thought he was in the study. 
 
 I was too impatient to wait till farther infor- 
 mation could be forthcoming, and went at 
 once to his private room which had at one 
 time been the old school-room. Without 
 knocking, I peeped in, and saw him sitting 
 before the table, his arms leaning upon the 
 elbows of his chair, and his hands clasped 
 together. He did not look up at my entrance, 
 and creeping round the table I came to the 
 back of his chair, and softly kissed the top of 
 his head. A note lay before him, which I at 
 once saw was in Lady Constance's hand- 
 writing." 
 
 " Oh, Ella," he said, rousing himself as if 
 from a dream, and seizing the note hurriedly, 
 "is that you ? I did not know that you had 
 come in." 
 
 " I have only done so this moment. Father," 
 I answered, jerking my head back proudly. I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 255 
 
 was annoyed with his action concerning the 
 note. There was no occasion to conceal it, as 
 I supposed, and I hoped that mj father knew 
 me too well to give me credit for reading any- 
 thing which was not intended for me. " Is 
 that a note from Lady Constance ? " I asked, 
 boldly stepping round in front of him so that 
 he should see me. 
 
 " Yes," he said calmly, but not offering to 
 show me its contents ; *' it is an invitation to us 
 both to go out there on Saturday, and take 
 Mildred also. She has had friends with her, 
 and could not ask us before." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I said haughtily. My father 
 was a mystery : how could he, with all his 
 pride, consent to know anyone on such terms ? 
 
 He seemed surprised. 
 
 "Would you not like it, my dear?" he 
 asked, looking at me. 
 
 " Yes, Father, I should, very much," I 
 answered, " but not quite in such a manner. 
 It is very evident that Lady Constance only 
 
256 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 invites us to her house when she has no better 
 acquaintance. "Why should we go there now 
 if we are not good enough to know her rela- 
 tions ? '^ 
 
 A deep flush overspread his face, such as I 
 had seen upon the day in which we met her, 
 but he recovered himself instantly. 
 
 *' My Ella, you do not know what you are 
 saying," he said tenderly. " Lady Constance 
 is the best friend that you have ever known. 
 Do not repel her by coldness and ingrati- 
 tude." 
 
 '' I do not wish to be ungrateful," I said in 
 a tumult of feeling, " I want to love her dearly. 
 But how can I do so when she is kind to me 
 one day, and slights me the next ? " 
 
 " When has she slighted you ? " 
 
 " The other day, twice, when we met her." 
 
 "Perhaps she did not see you," said my 
 father. 
 
 "Oh, yes, she did. She could not have 
 avoided doing so." 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 257 
 
 " I am sorry that my little girl's feelings 
 were hurt," said my father, perceiving the 
 falter in my voice which accompanied my 
 remarks. " Lady Constance would not willingly 
 wound anyone. But she had her mother with 
 her, and might not have liked to detain her. 
 Besides, Ella, you must remember that you 
 have known her but a very short time, and she 
 could not ask anyone to her house immediately 
 after her husband's death. You may be sure 
 that she will treat you kindly when you next 
 see her, so do not worry yourself over troubles 
 of your own creation." 
 
 " You don't think she was ashamed of know- 
 ing me, then ? " I asked, a little more hope- 
 fully. 
 
 He paused, and answered evasively : 
 
 " She would not be likely to invite you to 
 her house if she was ashamed of your acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 "But no one need know it, when she is 
 
 alone," I persisted, only half satisfied. " She 
 I. 17 
 
258 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 miglit treat me in the same manner again, if 
 any of her relations were present." 
 
 " You may have an opportunity of judging 
 on Saturday," said my father, " for Sir Leo- 
 pold's brother is still there, Mr. Milford. I do 
 not think, however, that you will find much 
 to complain of in Lady Constance's beha- 
 viour." 
 
 Thus reassured, I permitted my father to 
 indite the note, " with many thanks " accepting 
 her kind invitation ; and the deed once accom- 
 pUshed, I counted every hour of every day 
 which should bring me nearer to the happy 
 moment. It came at last, in a shorter time 
 than I could have anticipated, and it was with 
 indescribable sensations that I felt myself 
 driving through the Park again to the house 
 where T had been so happy. How sadly 
 changed all must be within ! How the aspect 
 of that bright, glowing landscape seemed to 
 have altered since last I was here ! Then the 
 sun was shining; now he was hiding himself 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 259 
 
 behind leaden clouds, and casting a sombre hue 
 over the beds of scarlet geranium and bright 
 calceolaria which decked the spacious lawn. 
 
 Ladj Constance gave us as warm a welcome 
 as I could desire, though her lips trembled as 
 she kissed me. She looked paler than when 
 I had seen her last, which was probably ac- 
 counted for by the dismal crape which en- 
 veloped her graceful figure, and she was very 
 silent, quite unlike the bright, light-hearted 
 woman whom we had known before. Well, it 
 was natural after all she had gone through. 
 
 I went upstairs with Mildred, leaving her in 
 my faTiher's company while we took off our 
 things and visited Leo in his nursery. The 
 dear little boy looked very lovely with his 
 golden curls falling over the black tunic which 
 he wore in memory of his father. I felt the 
 tears spring to my eyes, as I recalled that day, 
 the first in which I had made his acquaintance, 
 when the tenderness between father and child 
 had been so striking, and wondered how long 
 
 17 * 
 
260 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 it would survive in tliat childisli breast. But 
 I could not question him. It was as well, per- 
 haps, that he should not realise the pain of 
 parting, which comes to us in later years in 
 all its intensity, and which God, in His mercy, 
 spares such little ones. 
 
 I came downstairs again, alone, to find the 
 drawing-room door shut, and naturally con- 
 cluding that Lady Constance wished to speak 
 with my father alone, I lingered about in the 
 hall till their tete-a-tete should be ended, now 
 looking at the pictures, admiring the stag's 
 antlers, or the aquarium which had been lately 
 replenished with fresh specimens. By degrees 
 I wandered out to the front door, and so on to 
 the terrace, which, like that at Went worth, 
 ran round two sides of the house. Here I 
 paced up and down in front of the drawing- 
 room windows, waiting to be summoned before 
 I should intrude upon them. The figures of 
 both were quite visible, standing on the hearth- 
 rug, before the bright glow of a cheerful fire. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 261 
 
 which even upon that August day was accept- 
 able. They appeared to be talking earnestly, 
 probably about the illness or death of my 
 father's patient, for I observed that his face 
 looked scarcely less sorrowful than her own, 
 and had hard, rigid lines about the mouth, 
 which it distressed me to see. I paced to and 
 fro upon the terrace, watching the movements 
 of a gardener, who had been mowing the lawn, 
 and was now raking together the hay and 
 forming it into little hay-cocks in a listless, 
 lazy manner, as if he did not relish the occu- 
 pation. I wondered if he looked upon me as 
 a very idle person also as I wandered up and 
 down upon that sunless day without hat or 
 parasol to screen me. I was beginning to be 
 weary of my stroll at last, to wonder when 
 this important tete-a-tete should be ended, and 
 that I might be admitted, when, turning for the 
 twentieth time, and glancing towards them as I 
 did so, I saw a sight which arrested my atten- 
 tion. 
 
262 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I saw my father bend towards her as she 
 stood beside him. I saw him kiss her, not 
 once only, but repeatedly, passing his arm 
 round her as he did so. I saw her lay her 
 cheek against his own, as he pressed her to 
 him with a face sad and despairing, and I stood 
 there, rooted to the spot, seeing all as if in a 
 dream. 
 
 I watched them for a moment — one brief, 
 guilty moment — nay, it was all the work of a 
 moment. Then I fled, running down the stone 
 steps at the end of the terrace, across the lawn, 
 and into the avenue, where I hoped that the 
 trees would hide my agitation, my grief, my 
 despair. 
 
 This, then, was why my father's visits had 
 been so frequent at Milford House; this ac- 
 counted for his keeping away when Lady 
 Constance's relations had been present, and 
 coming again when they were gone. There 
 could be no reason for mystery in a doctor 
 calling at a house professionally, or even as a 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIPB. 263 
 
 friend, during sucli a time as had just passed ; 
 but there was every reason for concealment if 
 my conjectures were correct. And how could 
 it be otherwise? A flood of thought rushed 
 over me, bringing clearer and clearer proofs 
 of it all. Why had he never mentioned Lady 
 Constance's name till within a few months 
 ago ? Why did she not call upon us in an 
 open manner, and make friends with my 
 mother, who hardly knew her by sight ? And 
 what — oh, worse than all ! — what had Mrs. 
 Thorburn meant when she had said to my 
 mother that it was "very hard for her"? I 
 recalled my father's anxious, pained face, his 
 concealment of her note, his evident abstrac- 
 tion when I had entered the room ; and all — 
 all pointed, with the same ghastly finger-point, 
 to the same fact. He loved her ! and he knew 
 that his love was — must be — hopeless. 
 
 I covered my face with my hands as I 
 thought of it, pressing my fingers tight upon 
 my temples to check, if possible, the beating 
 
264 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 and throbbing wbich seemed to stifle me. I 
 bad bad my wish — I bad known tbe Lady Con- 
 stance ; but at wbat a price ! Could I consent 
 to know ber now in tbe same way ? Could I 
 receive ber caresses, ber patronage ? No, a 
 thousand times no ! Tben I thought of ber 
 recommendation of me as a governess, perhaps 
 for love of my father, perhaps to get me out 
 of the way. Look at it whichever way I 
 would, it was all bitterness and intense 
 misery. In that brief five minutes my life 
 bad changed. 
 
 A footstep upon tbe soft grass behind me 
 roused me slightly from my painful reflections. 
 I did not turn my bead, but presently some 
 one entered tbe avenue and came towards me. 
 
 He was a young man of about three or 
 four and twenty, and had evidently been 
 walking rapidly, and looked rather worn and 
 fatigued. He paused as be approached, appa- 
 rently surprised to see a young lady in such a 
 place by herself at that time of day. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 265 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said politely, as lie 
 doffed his hat ; "are you ill ? " 
 
 I suppose I looked so, for he continued in a 
 sweet voice, the music of which struck upon 
 my sensitive ear : 
 
 " I am afraid you must be, indeed, you look 
 so very pale. May I get you anything ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," I answered, trying to 
 speak naturally, though my voice seemed to 
 choke me ; " I am not ill. I was only wander- 
 ing about by myself till luncheon was ready. 
 I am Mr. Hamilton's daughter; and we have 
 come to luncheon." 
 
 How bluntly I had introduced myself ; but 
 I was suffering too much mentally to feel pro- 
 voked with my gaucherie, 
 
 "Indeed," he said gently. "I have heard 
 of you, then, for I am John Milford. I am 
 staying here." 
 
 Poor Sir Leopold's brother ; I saw the like- 
 ness then, though he seemed so many years 
 younger. He paused for a moment, standing 
 
266 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 before me, though I still sat with my eyes cast 
 downwards. 
 
 " I have just walked over from Wentworth," 
 he said, " from my cousin's house. You know 
 them, I think, Miss Hamilton ? " 
 
 " Yes," said I, in a tone of pride which aped 
 humility. " I am going to be a governess to 
 them in a few weeks." 
 
 " Eeally ? I think you will find them a very 
 pleasant family to live with." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," I answered coldly, 
 feeling myself very rude and disagreeable. 
 
 " Will you not come up to the house ? " 
 asked my companion. '' I am afraid I must be 
 going in, for luncheon is almost ready. Pray 
 let me take you also ; I am sure you would be 
 better for a glass of wine." 
 
 He would have offered me his arm, but I 
 declined ; no one of the name of Milford should 
 touch me. I was plain Ella Hamilton now, 
 the governess-elect in his family. 
 
 " Thank you," I said proudly, " I am better 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 267 
 
 now. I daresay it is time to go in ; perhaps 
 Lady Constance is expecting me." 
 
 I sneered as I spoke. I felt my lip curve 
 downwards, though a little pang of remorse 
 followed it, for I could not hate her all at once. 
 I rose from my seat, and walked up towards 
 the house, not looking at Mr. Milford or at 
 anything else, but keeping my eyes straight 
 before me, till we reached the drawing-room. 
 There we found Mildred and Leo, who were 
 playing with a box of toys on the floor, while 
 my father and Lady Constance occupied two 
 easy chairs opposite one another. 
 
 They looked rather surprised at my entrance 
 in company with Mr. Milford. Lady Constance 
 said : 
 
 " Where have you been, Ella ? I thought 
 you were upstairs." 
 
 " No," I answered calmly, " I have been 
 walking in the avenue." 
 
 " Alone ? " said my father. *' What an ex- 
 traordinary proceeding ! " 
 
268 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " I found Miss Hamilton there," said Mr. 
 Milford, " sitting upon one of the seats under 
 the trees. I thought she was not looking 
 well, and asked her to come into the house 
 and have some wine." 
 
 " "What is the matter, my dear ? " asked my 
 father, wheeling his chair round slightly, and 
 looking at me professionally. 
 
 " Nothing in the world," I answered, trying 
 to speak naturally, while the colour rushed 
 over my face. 
 
 "That's well," he said in a relieved tone. 
 " Thank you, Mr. Milford, for your considera- 
 tion, but my daughter is not usually very 
 delicate." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," said the young man ; 
 '' I thought she looked rather pale. Constance, 
 how long may I have to get ready for lun- 
 cheon ? " 
 
 " Only ten minutes," she answered, glancing 
 at the time-piece ; and he left the room. 
 
 I rose from the corner where I had seated 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 269 
 
 myself, and went towards the two cliildren, 
 who were setting up bricks and knocking them 
 down again for Leo's amusement. I was de- 
 termined that I would interrupt no conversation 
 which my father and Lady Constance wished 
 to indulge in, and played with the little boy till 
 luncheon was announced. They did not seem 
 to have observed anything in my subdued 
 manner, and talked together naturally. Lady 
 Constance looking very sad in the pauses of 
 conversation, for which I almost despised her. 
 
 After luncheon, my father went off to visit 
 the patient whom he had to see, and we went 
 into the drawing-room again, where Lady 
 Constance asked me to sing. I wondered if 
 she remembered that day, not many weeks 
 before, when I had sung to her husband in 
 that room, and I felt my eyes grow dim as I 
 pictured the scene before me. I carefully 
 avoided every song which I had sung then ; 
 but I could gather nothing by her face of what 
 her inner feelings might be as she sat with 
 
270 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 her hands folded in her lap, her head slightly 
 bent downwards. I looked at her once or 
 twice, and could not help acknowledging to 
 myself how sweet her face was, what a lie to 
 her true character in its innocence and purity. 
 I glanced from her to my little Mildred, who 
 was curled up in a corner of the large sofa, 
 her head bent also over a book of photographs, 
 which she was studying. I thought, perhaps 
 my Millie might grow up like her. I could 
 fancy that Lady Constance might have re- 
 sembled her as a child, for their hair was 
 much the same colour, and there was the same 
 fascinating grace in each. But I put away 
 the thought. I would rather that Mildred 
 should die in her childish innocence than that 
 she should grow up to bring misery and pain to 
 all around her, as Lady Constance was doing. 
 
 After finding that I had sung the same verse 
 over twice, I discovered how far away my 
 thoughts must have been, and rose from the 
 piano abruptly. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 27 1 
 
 Lady Constance lifted her eyes. 
 
 " That is very pretty," slie said in a dreamy 
 voice. 
 
 " What a hypocrite she must be," I thought, 
 " for I am sure she has not heard a note." 
 
 ''Pray don't stop," she continued. "John, 
 you would like something else, would you 
 not?" 
 
 "Very much," he said, quietly, "if you are 
 not too tired. Miss Hamilton." 
 
 He had been standing at the table, and I 
 hoped had been thus prevented from watching 
 my criticism upon his sister-in-law. 
 
 "I am not tired, thank you," I answered in 
 the same tone ; "if you would really care to 
 have another song, Mr. Milford, I will sing 
 with pleasure." 
 
 Lady Constance did not second his request 
 this time. She seemed still thoughtful, such 
 a contrast to the bright, happy woman she had 
 appeared to be when last I had spent the 
 afternoon there. Perhaps she was thinking of 
 
272 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 her husband, and felt shame and remorse for 
 the way in which she was already dishonouring 
 his name; perhaps she was thinking of my 
 father and the hopeless misery which lay before 
 them both. She was still silent when the song 
 had ceased, and I took my place near her. 
 When she spoke it was with an effort, and as 
 if she were doing so because it was expected 
 of her ; but her voice was just as sweet and 
 sympathetic, though not, perhaps, as clear and 
 ringing as it had hitherto been. She leaned 
 back in her chair watching Mildred, who was 
 now standing by the table, turning over a 
 child's album of Leo's. I followed the look, 
 and wondered if Lady Constance was struck 
 with my little sister's graceful attitude, and 
 beautiful, clearly- cut face. There was a great 
 resemblance to my father in it, and the 
 thought stung me that perhaps it was this 
 which had attracted her, and when Lady Con- 
 stance afterwards invited the child to bring 
 her book across to her, I felt sure of it. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 273 
 
 "Are you fond of pictures, Mildred?" she 
 asked kindly. 
 
 Mildred answered that she was extremely 
 fond of pictures. 
 
 " Can you draw at all ? " 
 
 Mildred replied that she could draw a little, 
 but that she had not had many lessons. 
 
 " Which will be an excuse for Lady Con- 
 stance to pay for some," I thought bitterly. 
 " Oh, Millie, Millie, what a goose you are ! " 
 
 " You would like to learn, perhaps ? " said 
 Lady Constance. There ! it was coming, as I 
 knew it would. 
 
 Of course Mildred " would like to learn ex- 
 tremely " ; what else could Lady Constance 
 expect in reply ? 
 
 I looked up suddenly. " I don't think Mildred 
 has the least taste for drawing," I said stiffly. 
 
 Mildred blushed and looked awkward, but 
 Lady Constance answered graciously : 
 
 " We never know what we may do till we 
 try, do we, Mildred ? " 
 
 I. 18 
 
274 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I groaned in tlie depth of my heart. How 
 conld I prevent this being done ? How could 
 I suffer an obligation from this woman, who 
 was stealing away my father's heart. I looked 
 up once more, hoping, in my dread of the 
 result, that I might stop the fatal resolution, 
 and then I saw Mr. Milford's blue eyes looking 
 at me very much as the gentle eyes of his 
 brother had looked upon that last memorable 
 day which I had spent in this house. He must 
 have thought I was a strange character, if, in- 
 deed, he had thought about me at all, for I felt 
 that I was showing the worst side of my natural 
 self to him. His look arrested the next speech 
 which was upon my lips, and which, probably, 
 would have contained more bitterness than any 
 which I had previously spoken. But with all 
 my spirit I was a shy girl, and I could not be 
 actually rude to Lady Constance in her own 
 drawing-room. I had time to think of this in 
 the pause which followed ; and it was, perhaps, 
 as well for me that I could do so. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 275 
 
 " Are you not fond of pictures yourself. 
 Miss Hamilton?" asked the low gentle voice 
 whicli struck me as being strangely like his 
 brother's. 
 
 " I know very little about them," I answered 
 indifferently, anxious that the tone might fall 
 upon Lady Constance's ear, and prevent any 
 further display of generosity. 
 
 " I suppose one's taste has to be somewhat 
 cultivated by coming in contact with them, but 
 surely you know what you like, and can ap- 
 preciate such as these." He pointed to a 
 Madonna di San Sisto as he spoke. 
 
 '* Oh, yes ; everyone must acknowledge the 
 beauty in that face," I replied, "because it 
 has the beauty of perfect innocence." 
 
 ''Yes," said Lady Constance; ''it is that 
 which makes one love it so. It is the perfec- 
 tion of womanhood in its most beautiful form." 
 
 I sut my teeth together. I was glad that 
 the conversation had changed, but I would not 
 criticise the face of that Madonna with such a 
 
 18 * 
 
276 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 woman as I now thouglit Lady Constance to be. 
 And yet, as I looked at her, my heart smote 
 me. The face was not unlike her own, so 
 calm, so still, so truthful ! how could she wear 
 such a mask, and be such a cruel living lie ? 
 
 I felt the thrill of admiration go through me 
 which I had felt for her before, but this time it 
 left a strange, sickly feeling behind it, like fruit 
 which had turned to bitterness. I longed for 
 my father to come back that I might get out 
 of the house, out of the presence of it all ; but 
 he did not return, and I had to content myself 
 with talking to Mr. Milford, and playing with 
 Leo for another hour. Lady Constance did 
 not seem to care for conversation. She looked 
 weary, and, I had no doubt, had begun to wish 
 she had not invited us. This thought made 
 me more bitter still. Of course it was only on 
 my father's account that she had ever done so, 
 and now that I knew her motive I could 
 understand better how to act towards her. 
 
 " Oh, if I might only go home," I thought 
 
THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 277 
 
 in my misery, " I would try to be content. I 
 would never wish for society again." 
 
 My father came at last. I heard the carriage 
 drive up, and saw Lady Constance's face 
 brighten as it approached the door. I rose at 
 once. 
 
 " I think, Mildred, we must put on our hats; 
 Father does not like to be kept waiting." 
 
 " Oh, Ella, you will stay and have some 
 tea?" asked Lady Constance in a brighter 
 tone than she had spoken since his departure. 
 " It will refresh your father after his drive." 
 
 " You are very kind," I answered stiffly ; 
 " I think we must be going," and I went up- 
 stairs with Mildred. 
 
 When we came down again, my father was 
 once more alone with Lady Constance ; and as 
 they stopped abruptly in their conversation 
 when we entered the room, I at once con- 
 cluded that it was about something which they 
 did not wish us to hear. Surely there could 
 be nothing professional to say now that Sir 
 
278 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 Leopold was dead and buried. The child 
 seemed very well, and Lady Constance had had 
 ample time to consult him about her own 
 health before luncheon. 
 
 " Well, my dears," said my father, cheerily ; 
 " you seem to be rather in a hurry. Lady Con- 
 stance tells me that you will not stay for tea." 
 " We thought you would wish to be going, 
 Father," I answered ; " you know you are 
 always so busy." 
 
 " Oh, I think I have time for that, if your 
 
 clock is right, Co ahem ! Lady Constance." 
 
 I looked at him suddenly ; so did she, and 
 a slight tinge of colour overspread her face ; 
 but he was looking at his watch and comparing 
 it with the timepiece. 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Constance, "it is quite right. 
 I am glad that you can stay a little longer." 
 
 I recollected then that I had never heard 
 her call my father anything, and wondered how 
 they addressed each other in private. Ah 
 me ! how heart-sick and miserable I was ! 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 279 
 
 So another half-liour passed, lie and slie ab- 
 sorbing most of the conversation, and we only 
 answering in monosyllables when we were ad- 
 dressed. I was glad when it came to an end 
 at last, and my father rose to go. I was de- 
 termined this time that their parting should 
 be in the presence of us all ; but there need not 
 have been any difficulty about it, for Mr. Mil- 
 ford entered the room just before we left, and 
 stood there while we said our farewells. 
 
 " Good-bye, Ella," said Lady Constance, 
 bending forward to kiss me. I sHghtly drew 
 back, then offered my cheek to her, and saw 
 that the action had displeased my father. 
 
 «« "Why, Ella, child, do you not know how to 
 offer a kiss with civility ? " he said rather 
 roughly. 
 
 I could not answer him. My eyes filled with 
 tears, which, perhaps. Lady Constance mis- 
 understood. She evidently was not hurt, how- 
 ever, and kissed Mildred also. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said. " It is very kind of 
 
280 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 you to come and see me. I am afraid you 
 have had a dull visit." 
 
 I could not say, " Not at all," I only walked 
 towards the door in company with Mr. Milford, 
 fearful that I should break down utterly. 
 
 But I had time to watch her shake hands 
 with my father, and saw the quivering lip, the 
 tearful eyes, which accompanied that warm 
 pressure. And then in my heart I hated her, 
 perhaps all the more because my passion and 
 admiration had received such a death-blow. I 
 scarcely acknowledged Mr. Milford' s bow as 
 he stood on the stone steps, scarcely heeded 
 that he had sauntered away down the gravel- 
 path as the carriage moved off, lighting a cigar 
 as he went. My attention was absorbed by 
 other thoughts ; and as I glanced once more 
 towards the drawing-room which we had left, 
 was it only my own imagination which pictured 
 the sight of a fair woman seated in the shadow of 
 a window-curtain, with face buried in her hand- 
 kerchief, apparently in the deepest distress ? 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 281 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 PEIDE AND EBSENTMENT. 
 
 " For a raven ever croaks at my side, 
 ' Keep watch and ward, keep watch and ward. 
 Or thou wilt prove their tool.' " 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 During our drive homewards very little was 
 said. My father leaned back wearily, and 
 seemed to be in profound thought, as was 
 usual to him. Mildred amused herself with 
 gazing out of the carriage window, and I was 
 revolving over the events of the day, wonder- 
 ing where it would all end, and upbraiding 
 myself with a thousand reproaches. For I 
 
282 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 felt now how wrong I had been to despise 
 the home where, at any rate, peace and com- 
 fort had hitherto reigned. Who could tell 
 how long it might continue when once this 
 dread secret became known ? I could not 
 bear the misery of such an exposure in 
 Halton, where my father was so highly re- 
 spected ; yet how could I mention the subject 
 to him, and tell him what I had seen? I 
 could not even speak of it to Edmund; still 
 less would I allow Agnes or Mildred to be 
 aware of the painful disclosure. I thought 
 of my mother — she who would not visit 
 Lady Constance, yet " would be glad that I 
 should do so," who would not even inquire 
 about the particulars of Sir Leopold's death, 
 or show any interest in speaking of the family. 
 How natural all this seemed if she had any 
 idea of what was going on. And then came 
 a remembrance of the Thorburns — those good, 
 worthy people, whose civilities I had rejected, 
 whose society I could not tolerate. Was it 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 283 
 
 possible tliat Mrs. Thorburn was in possession 
 of this secret ? Could my mother have spoken 
 of her annoyance at the intimacy which caused 
 her to say, '' Law, Mrs. Hamilton, it must be 
 very hard for you " ? I shivered at such a 
 thought. 
 
 My reveries were disturbed at last by the 
 stopping of the carriage at our own door. 
 My father assisted me to alight, saying, as he 
 did so : 
 
 " Ella, I should like to speak with you in 
 my room when you have taken off your 
 bonnet." 
 
 My heart beat as if it would choke me. 
 What could my father have to say, and how 
 should I answer him ? 
 
 I did not reply, but ran upstairs at once to 
 my room. No one was there, for Agnes was 
 out, and Mildred had flown to the kitchen, 
 where my mother was, to give her all the 
 news. I threw my hat on to the bed, my 
 hands trembling with agitation; but I felt 
 
284 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 that tMs interview must be got over some- 
 how, and the sooner the better. I glanced at 
 my face in the glass, and almost despised 
 myself for its paleness ; but in a few minutes, 
 during which I had prayed that God would 
 direct my steps aright, I felt braver, and 
 though my limbs actually trembled as I de- 
 scended the stairs, I was outwardly calm. 
 My father was in his room looking over 
 some notes which had been brought in 
 during our absence, and I walked in and 
 stood close by him before he looked up and 
 spoke. 
 
 " Ella, my dear," he said kindly, " I was 
 anxious to speak to you about something, 
 which, I am sure, will be interesting to you. 
 I wish to mention it to you first, although I 
 have not spoken of it to your mother yet. 
 Sit down, my child, for a minute or two, will 
 you?" 
 
 I seated myself. What could be coming ? 
 
 " I rather hope that the proposition which I 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 285 
 
 am going to make will give you some gratifica- 
 tion, if not pleasure," he said. '' I know how 
 glad you are to gain refinement and luxury, 
 how difficult you find it to obtain both for 
 yourself and for your sisters. What do you 
 say to a proposal which Lady Constance has 
 made to me to-day about Mildred — a proposal 
 that she should take to her altogether, edu- 
 cate her, clothe her, and allow her to live with 
 her as if she were her own child ? " 
 
 He paused, waiting for my answer, while my 
 hands twitched, my breath came fast. I looked 
 down, I could not speak ; a thousand thoughts 
 crossed each other in my own mind, bringing 
 perplexity and confusion. Yesterday my heart 
 would have leapt at such an offer ; to-day I 
 was humiliated by it. 
 
 " Well, Father," I asked at length, feeling 
 that something was expected of me, *' what are 
 you going to do about it ? " 
 
 " I wished to know what you thought of it 
 first," he answered, smiling, though anxiously. 
 
286 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 " Would you not like to see your sister in so 
 comfortable a position ? " 
 
 '' I don't know," I faltered ; "I cannot make 
 up my mind to part with Millie." 
 
 " That is absurd, Ella," he said more gravely. 
 " You surely would not stand in your sister^s 
 light for the sake of any selfish whim of your 
 own. Besides, as you are going away so 
 shortly, it cannot make much difference to 
 you." 
 
 I still hesitated. 
 
 '^ Father, are you obliged to do this?" I 
 asked at length. 
 
 " Not obliged exactly," he answered ; '' but 
 you know what the alternative is. I cannot 
 send her to school at ten years old with the 
 prospect of remaining for seven or eight years, 
 and the only other condition in store for her 
 is to be brought up in Halton without com- 
 panionship better than this little town affords." 
 
 I, too, had thought of all this ; but oh, what 
 could I say ? 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 287 
 
 " It is very kind of Lady Constance," I mur- 
 mured, considering myself very hypocritical for 
 saying that which I could not feel. 
 
 " It is, indeed," answered my father, and 
 then no word was spoken between us for a 
 minute. 
 
 " Well," said my father at length, '' I am 
 disappointed that you take it in this manner, 
 Ella. I had quite hoped that you would have 
 felt pleasure at the proposal, if not gratitude." 
 
 And, as it was, I could feel neither. 
 
 " It is so sudden," I answered evasively ; 
 " I have not had time to think," and then, 
 feeling myself a great coward, I added, " and 
 I do so hate to be under an obligation to any- 
 one." 
 
 " To Lady Constance, for instance ? " asked 
 my father, smiling. " It strikes me, my little 
 girl, that you are under a good many obliga- 
 tions to her already. You do not know, 
 perhaps, that it was she who paid for your 
 education ? " 
 
288 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 This was the time to speak. 
 
 " Did she ? " I asked in a voice of subdued 
 passion. "Then .1 regret it more than any 
 words can express." 
 
 " I am sorry for that," said my father, 
 " because it appears like ingratitude, a feehng 
 which I should be sorry to see any child of 
 mine possess." 
 
 "But why need we place ourselves in this 
 degrading position?" I inquired ;" surely it 
 cannot be necessary for you to accept such 
 favours in order to maintain your family." 
 
 He paused again for an instant. 
 
 " Not necessary ; but otherwise, Ella, you 
 might have been brought up very differently 
 from the way in which you have been." 
 
 "How so. Father?" 
 
 " In all probability you would never have gone 
 to school, never seen any better society than 
 this little world which surrounds us contains, 
 never had your naturally refined tastes cul- 
 tivated. Is not all this worth being grate- 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 289 
 
 ful for, and would j6u deny to your sister the 
 advantages you have received for yourself ? " 
 
 "It is a hard price to pay for it," I said 
 sullenly. 
 
 " Ella," said my father, in a colder manner 
 than usual, '' I own that I am disappointed in 
 you to-day ; you seem to have changed your 
 nature, and become hard, cold, and unfeeling. 
 Your manner to Lady Constance, when we left 
 her house this afternoon, pained me. Why 
 should you reject her kindness to you in this 
 way, when she has shown so much kindness to 
 you?" 
 
 *' She has only shown me kindness when it 
 has suited her purpose to do so," I replied 
 bitterly, feeling strongly the under-current 
 which prompted my words. 
 
 '' Suited her purpose ? " echoed my father, 
 wrathfully. *' What do you mean ? how can it 
 suit her purpose to be kind to you at any time ? " 
 
 I felt bound to answer, though I dared not 
 express myself openly. 
 
 I. 19 
 
290 THE SHADOW OP A LIFE. 
 
 " I suppose she lias some motive," I said, 
 casting down my eyes, while my hands became 
 very cold ; " she must have a motive, or she 
 would not do it." 
 
 " Then let me tell you, child," said my 
 father, " that her motive is love, true Chris- 
 tian love and charity ; and be grateful to Grod 
 that He has sent such as her into the world to 
 be your friend and benefactor." 
 
 " I do not want her charity," I said bitterly. 
 "Father, dear, forgive me, but I cannot 
 accept it. Do as you like with Mildred, only 
 do not ask me to pronounce an opinion upon 
 it, and spare me from any more of her acts of 
 kindness and charity, for I cannot, I will not 
 suffer them." 
 
 My father leaned back in his arm-chair 
 and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 "Ella," he said, "this is beyond ingrati- 
 tude, it is cruelty." 
 
 '' To you Father, or to her ? " 
 
 " To us both." (Ah ! why did he couple her 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 291 
 
 name with his ? ) "To us both," he repeated : 
 '' you little know what you are doing." 
 
 '* Yes, Father, I do," I answered, trying to 
 speak calmly, though my heart was in a tumult. 
 " I do know what I am doing; I know that I 
 am rejecting the ' charity ' of a fascinating, 
 charming woman, but, nevertheless, one upon 
 whom I have no claim, and whose favours, 
 therefore, grate upon me." 
 
 He looked at me steadily. 
 
 " How do you know that you have no claim 
 upon her ? " but his voice trembled as he 
 said it. 
 
 "What claim can I have?" I asked; '* I 
 have barely known her by name till a few 
 months ago. Why should she not call at this 
 house as a friend if she wishes to show friend- 
 ship, and why cannot her actions be open, and 
 not secret ? We are not beggars, to be depen- 
 dent upon her charity in this way." 
 
 " And how is it that you have only made 
 these discoveries to-day?" he asked. "How 
 
 19 * 
 
292 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 is it that you permitted her to show you acts 
 of kindness for which you professed yourself 
 grateful up till the time when she needed sym- 
 pathy and kindness herself, and then that you 
 turned upon her, and in your ingratitude 
 treated her with coldness in return for her 
 tender consideration ? '* 
 
 " But was it really kindness which prompted 
 it all ?" I asked. " Why, then, should she barely 
 acknowledge you or me when she met us, 
 because she happened to have her relations 
 with her ? Why should she profess an affec- 
 tion for me, which she never felt ? " 
 
 " How do you know she has never felt 
 it?" 
 
 "Her actions have proved it," I said bitterly. 
 '' How much did she care to have me with her 
 to-day ? She would not have asked me to go 
 to the house, but for your sake." In my 
 impetuosity I had blurted out more than I 
 intended, and the next moment was frightened 
 at my boldness. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 293 
 
 " That is very likely," said my father, calmly, 
 *' or rather, it is possible. But supposing it 
 be so, did she not show you all the kindness 
 which you could expect ? " 
 
 " More," I answered, " more than I expected 
 or desired." 
 
 " Ella, is it possible that you are my child ? " 
 The words were uttered in a voice of such 
 pain that they wrung my heart, but I could not 
 give in. 
 
 " Father, I may be unkind," I answered, 
 " but I cannot, 1 do not want to love Lady 
 Constance." 
 
 He sat up in his chair and looked at me. 
 
 *' What has come to you to-day, my little 
 girl ? " he said, more gently than before ; " you 
 seem to have changed your character com- 
 pletely. A few days ago I thought you were 
 in love with your charming friend ; now you 
 seem as if you were trying to hate her." 
 
 " So I am," I said coldly. 
 
 " But why ? " he persisted ; " because, poor 
 
294 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 darling, slie needs your love more now tlian 
 she ever did before ? " 
 
 He was speaking dreamily now, as if to 
 himself and not to me, which only enraged me. 
 My face reddened ; how did he dare to speak 
 of her so? Did he want me, too, to become 
 as infatuated as he himself was ? 
 
 " Bah ! " I said angrily, " I don't believe in 
 her sorrow. She will soon get over it." 
 
 '' Ella," he said again, in a voice of pain, " I 
 can only suppose that you are labouring under 
 some delusion with regard to Lady Constance, 
 but your words about her cut me to the heart. 
 I cannot bear to hear them, or to think that 
 any child of mine could show the want of feel- 
 ing which you have shown me to-day. You 
 may leave me now, I wish for no further con- 
 versation with you. Henceforward I shall take 
 care that you are under no obligation to Lady 
 Constance, so you may make your mind easy." 
 
 " And what about Mildred ? " I asked, rising 
 from my seat. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 295 
 
 " I shall do as I think proper with regard to 
 her," he answered coldly, " but I will not ask 
 your opinion again." 
 
 I went towards the door, opened and closed 
 it behind me, without once looking back. I 
 feared that I might give way if I did so, and 
 I wished now to steel my heart. How could 
 he have the boldness to speak of her in such a 
 manner in my presence ? In all the years 
 which I could remember, I had never heard 
 him address my mother by the loving epithet 
 which he now applied to her ; and this woman, 
 who had been known to him but for a few years 
 at the most, was to receive his caresses, to be 
 spoken of tenderly even before his daughter. 
 I ran upstairs to my room, but I would not 
 cry; red eyes would only cause grounds for 
 suspicion, and I must keep my counsel. I 
 walked up and down for some time, but my 
 reflections brought no relief, and I determined 
 to rejoin the family as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
296 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 I did not see my father till tea-time, and 
 he did not once address himself to me. I 
 maintained a strict composure myself, and the 
 conversation was sustained rather feebly by my 
 brother and sisters, my mother looking as if 
 something had occurred to irritate her. After 
 tea, my father called Edmund into his room, 
 evidently for a private interview, and then the 
 two went out together. We women took out 
 our needlework, but though our fingers plyed 
 their task diligently, we were all very silent. 
 A shade of annoyance was upon my mother's 
 face, and at last she broke out irritably : 
 
 '* Well, there seem to be a good many secrets 
 going on in this house which I should like to 
 know the meaning of. Ella, haven't you a 
 word to tell us about your visit to-day, or is 
 that too great a mystery to be spoken about ? " 
 
 " Ah ! dear mother," I thought ; " may it be 
 long before you discover the mystery for your- 
 self." But I started a little at her words, they 
 seemed so terribly real and true. 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 297 
 
 " Oh, yes," I said, as indifferently as I could, 
 " I have nothing to conceal about my visit. 
 We spent rather a dull day, and I hardly spoke 
 to Lady Constance, or she to me. I talked 
 most of the time to Mr. Milford, or played with 
 Leo and Mildred." 
 
 " Dear me," said Agnes, laughing, " what a 
 doleful tone ! E-ather a contrast to your last 
 day there, then ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes, to be sure ; what else could it be ? " 
 said my mother. " You don't expect to see a 
 woman who isn't a widow of a month old, 
 making a noise like a girl in her teens ? " 
 
 Fancy Lady Constance ever " making a 
 noise " ! 
 
 *'How did you like Mr. Milford?" asked 
 Agnes. 
 
 " I hardly know ; I haven't thought much 
 about him," I replied. "He is a little like Sir 
 Leopold ; only, of course, much younger." 
 
 " How old? " asked Agnes. 
 
 " About twenty-four I should think, but I 
 
298 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 am not clever at guessing people's ages ; and 
 besides, as I said before, I never tbougbt about 
 him." 
 
 " Then he did about you, Ella, I am sure," 
 said Mildred. " How he looked at you when 
 you were talking about that picture ! " 
 
 " What nonsense ! " I said pettishly. I re- 
 membered too well the tone which had called 
 forth that glance, which appeared to me more 
 like one of surprise or reproval than anything 
 like admiration. " You are too little to know 
 anything about such things." 
 
 Neither my mother nor Agnes spoke, and 
 their silence annoyed me. 
 
 " I don't think he liked me very much," I 
 said, " and I thought I was rather rude to him ; 
 but I don't care much for very young men," 
 I added in a tone of indifference. 
 
 " Dear me," said my mother; " how the gilt 
 has come oif the gingerbread ! Last time every- 
 thing was delightful ; now we have changed 
 our tune." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 299 
 
 " Not at all," I answered ; '' only one cannot 
 gush for ever." 
 
 " Oh, no ; we don't expect it," said my 
 mother ; " only you are a strange girl, Ella, 
 for quarrelling with your bread and butter." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean. Mother," I 
 answered. 
 
 " Well, there — never mind, my dear. Mil- 
 dred, it is time for you to go to bed." 
 
 *' All right, dear Mammy; let me put in two 
 more stitches, and then my kettle-holder will 
 be done. Oh, dear ! how it rains ! I hope it 
 will be fine to-morrow to go to church." 
 
 ''I hope so, too," said my mother, as she 
 prepared to accompany her upstairs. 
 
 So Agnes and I were left alone. Unlike my 
 mother, she asked no questions, for which I 
 was thankful. I was more outspoken than she 
 was, and might have let out something for 
 which I could never forgive myself, so I turned 
 the tables, and asked her after the adventures 
 of the day which had just passed. 
 
300 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 "What did you do this afternoon, after 
 dinner ? " I inquired. 
 
 " First we went to see poor Jemmie," said 
 Agnes, '' and then Mother remembered that 
 she had left her knitting at the Thorburns, and 
 asked me to go in for it." 
 
 '' Did you find them at home? " I inquired. 
 
 " Only the three girls," said Agnes. '' Mrs. 
 Thorburn was out. But only fancy, Ella, 
 George Thorburn saw me from the shop going 
 upstairs, and very soon he made his appear- 
 ance with an apron on, saying he thought he 
 should catch me before I went." 
 
 *'TJgh ! " I said, shuddering ; " what did you 
 say to him ? " 
 
 " JSTot very much," said Agnes, " you may 
 be sure. He pretended to hunt for the knitting, 
 and I believe he had hidden it, so as to keep 
 me there ; but when I said I must go, he in- 
 sisted upon walking home with me." 
 
 "You did not allow him, I hope?" I said 
 anxiously. 
 
THE SHADOW OE A LIFE. 301 
 
 "No, I did not," said Agnes, ''but I had 
 hard work to prevent his doing so. He said 
 that I planted a thorn in his bosom by my 
 refusal, but I managed to get away from him 
 at last." 
 
 '* What an odious creature he is ! " I said 
 with the deepest contempt. " Agnes, I do hope 
 his attentions to you may not become embar- 
 rassing." 
 
 '' They shall not, if I can prevent it/' an- 
 swered my sister. '' I shall be going to school 
 soon, and he will not see me before Christmas; 
 perhaps by that time he may have forgotten 
 me. 
 
 " Let us trust so," I said ; '' but George 
 Thorburn is like his father, and does not easily 
 give up anything that he has set his heart 
 upon." 
 
 " Then I hope he has not set his heart upon 
 me," said Agnes, laughing, " for he certainly 
 won't have me." 
 
 " Don't talk of it," I said ; " the very idea is 
 
302 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 repulsive," and then we were botli silent for a 
 time. I contrasted the picture of the iron- 
 monger's home with that which I had visited 
 to-day, the refinement and elegance of the latter 
 as compared to the common vulgarity of the 
 former. What a cruel position was mine ! If 
 I could but find a middle course where I could 
 meet with congenial tastes, without the sacri- 
 fices which I was forced to make ! Ah ! bitter, 
 vain hopes which would never be satisfied. 
 Agnes broke the silence first, by saying : 
 "I daresay, Ella, you feel these things even 
 more than I, for you are fortunate enough to 
 be noticed a good deal by Lady Constance 
 Milford, and I can fancy that after paying her 
 a visit it must be very distasteful to you to 
 hear an account of Greorge Thorburn's vul- 
 garity." 
 
 " No," I answered, " I don't think that ; I 
 should have disliked it at any time. Besides, 
 I don't fancy that I shall become very intimate 
 with Lady Constance." 
 
THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 303 
 
 " Don't you really ? Well, you have begun 
 pretty well, Ella." 
 
 " Yes," I said indifferently ; " but I don't 
 wish to be known on those terms. I will never 
 be patronised by anyone." 
 
 " Does she patronise you ? " asked Agnes. 
 
 *'Well, it looks like it, I think," I answered 
 proudly. '' She never comes here, as you 
 know ; why should I go to her ? " 
 
 " Because, Ella, ' we have to put our pride 
 in our pockets,' as Mother says," replied 
 Agnes, " if we want to get on." 
 
 "Well, then, don't let us get on," I said 
 pettishly ; '' and please don't use such expres- 
 sions yourself, if Mother sees fit to do so." 
 
 Agnes did not answer me. She was too 
 reserved and dignified to quarrel, and probably 
 felt the rebuke as much for my mother as she 
 did for herself. She understood my variable 
 moods, and no doubt ascribed tnj present irrita- 
 bility to some annoyance which it was as well 
 for her not to inquire into. Though we were 
 
304 THE SHADOW OF A LIFE. 
 
 SO different, we were the closest friends, and 
 loved each other dearly. Our father and 
 mother had taught us to live in peace, and had 
 set us an example by their own lives ; for though 
 they must have differed in opinion often, they 
 never held any argument in our presence. 
 
 Alas ! in my restless, irritated state, I could 
 only long for a continuance of peace, not 
 daring to anticipate what the future would 
 bring, when all must become known. I was 
 glad now that I was going away, and should 
 at any rate be spared the pain of coming in 
 contact with these miseries. Perhaps by the 
 time I returned matters would have become 
 better ; and I could only pray, and trust, that 
 God, the great Ruler of our lives, would hear 
 my petitions, and avert the evil which I so 
 much dreaded. 
 
 END OP VOL. I. 
 
 London : Printed by W. H. Allen & Co., 13 Waterloo Place, Pall Mall.