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 IRS. GREY'S REMOISCENCES. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 MRS. GREY'S REMIMSCENCES 
 
 BY 
 
 LADY BLAKE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 CLAUDE," "HELEN'S FIRST LOVE,' 
 
 " THE HISTORY OF A HEART," 
 
 &c., &c. 
 
 m THKEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HUKST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1878. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE, 
 
 BLENHEIM STREET, OXFORD STREET.
 
 V. I 
 
 MRS. GREY'S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 >- 
 
 3 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 CO 
 
 S ]l T Y own life has been a very unevent- 
 
 o XTX £^| Qj^g g^g regards outward circum- 
 
 ^ stances, but it has afforded me many oppor- 
 
 s tunities of noting the lives of others whose 
 
 destinies have been more chequered than 
 
 my own. Some of these experiences I have 
 
 *n recorded in the following pages, as they 
 
 ^ came personally to my knowledge, or have 
 
 4 been related to me by the principal actors 
 r; in the scenes I have faithfully endeavoured 
 ■"to pourtray. I may as well premise that my 
 ^sketches are entirely confined to the in- 
 ^ habitants of the large old country tow^n in 
 
 ^ VOL. I. B
 
 MRS. GEEy's reminiscences. 
 
 whicli my own life has been for tlie most 
 part passed. 
 
 I have had, as I have akeady observed, 
 peculiar facilities for becoming acquainted 
 with the miniature world around me ; first 
 as the daughter of the Eector of the princi- 
 pal church in Castleford, and afterwards 
 as the wife — and now, alas ! the widow — 
 of a much esteemed physician of the same 
 place. 
 
 Having no family of my own — my only 
 child having died in infancy — my sympa- 
 thies have been more particularly drawn out 
 by and centred in those around me. Thus 
 it has occurred to me that, with so many 
 recollections of interest regarding others, I 
 might find a fitting occupation (not always 
 unmixed with pain) in committing some of 
 these reminiscences to paper.
 
 BASIL'S BRIDE, 
 
 B 2
 
 BASIL'S BRIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TT is very many years now since I re- 
 ■- member young Basil Egerton taking 
 liis place in Mr. Nesbit's counting-liouse. 
 Everyone considered it was ratber beneatb 
 one of the Egerton family to occupy tbat 
 position, but tbe act of so doing really 
 showed a more independent spirit in tlie 
 young man than had he been satisfied to 
 starve in idleness, or lead the humiliating 
 existence of a hanger-on at his rich uncle's 
 fine place, not far distant from Castleford. 
 His father was a younger brother of the 
 reigning Squire, who had several sons and 
 one daughter of his own, so that he could not
 
 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 afford (although reputed rich) to do much 
 for his brother's family. Basil's father 
 was the " ne'er-do-weel " of the Egertons. 
 He had been in the Army, and had since 
 managed to get a commission for his eldest 
 son Richard. But Dick Egerton was too 
 much his father's own son to get on in any 
 profession, and, it may be briefly stated 
 here, died early, after a very extravagant 
 and by no means creditable career. 
 
 Basil, in the meantime, soon after his 
 father's death, had applied for a vacant 
 stool in Mr. Nesbit's counting-house, and 
 had been accepted, more out of favour than 
 with much expectation of finding in the 
 young man a valuable acquisition to the 
 office. However, after a little hesitation, 
 Mr. Nesbit installed him in the desired 
 situation. 
 
 Basil had, with his brother, been brought 
 up at a public school — Westminster, I 
 think, and after his career there was finish- 
 ed, he joined his father on the Continent,
 
 BASILS BEIDE. 7 
 
 but Mr. Egerton dying soon after, he was 
 left without any resources, and returning 
 to England, had been in some degree hang- 
 ing on at his uncle's till something might 
 turn up in his favour. 
 
 Perhaps the sense of dependence had 
 become galling to the young man, as he 
 saw others of the same age entering into 
 busy life, and himself condemned by his 
 poverty and position, as it were, to remain 
 idle. 
 
 A casual observation he overheard one 
 day induced him to offer himself, as I have 
 said, for the situation he afterwards held ; 
 but I think he accepted it more as a step- 
 ping-stone to something better, and to learn 
 the regular routine of business, than with 
 anv fixed intention of remaining in it. 
 
 At that time Basil Egerton was about 
 two and twenty, a tall, fine-looking young 
 man, with good features, an intelligent 
 countenance, and pleasing address. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit was a self-made man, and a
 
 8 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 very fair specimen of bis class, prejudiced 
 in many respects, but honest and liberal in 
 his transactions. He was considered rich 
 himself, and had a great respect for wealth 
 in others, with a slight contempt for those 
 who were better born, but familiar with 
 the ills of poverty. He had been good-look- 
 ing in his day, but became somewhat coarse 
 and heavy in appearance as an elderly man, 
 though in his youth, when tall, fair, and 
 florid, he had successfully wooed and won 
 the hand of a young and pretty woman, the 
 orphan daughter of a clergyman in the 
 neighbourhood. Mrs. Nesbit, however, 
 died early, leaving one only daughter to 
 console her husband for her loss, and on 
 this child the wealthy man lavished all the 
 affection of which his nature was capable. 
 
 Agnes Nesbit was one of those happy 
 natures which seem to escape the penalty 
 generally entailed on a life of over-indulg- 
 ence. She grew up extremely pretty, and 
 seemed to have had a fairy godmother to
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. \) 
 
 endow her with all good things besides. I 
 knew Agnes Nesbit very well at one time, 
 for we were together at the Miss Prim- 
 roses' " Establishment for Young Ladies," 
 and being nearly the same age, and living 
 in the same town, we constantly met. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit was devoted to his daugh- 
 ter, and when she came to live entirely at 
 home, thought she would be happier with 
 a companion of her own age, and preferred 
 this arrangement on his own account, to 
 that of having an older woman constantly 
 associated with them in their domestic life. 
 Mr. Nesbit's early training and position in 
 life induced him to dispense with such an 
 encumbrance as he would have found in 
 an elderly chaperon for his daughter. The 
 continual presence of such a person 
 would have been a c/ene to him, and 
 he did not imaoine it was at all essen- 
 tial to her future success in the world, 
 so he only consulted his own, as well as 
 Agnes's inclinations on the subject. These
 
 10 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 both inclined to an orphan niece of his own, 
 at least, she had only one parent living, 
 and that was a mother, who had married 
 again a dissenting minister, and consequent- 
 ly, he supposed, could very well spare her 
 daughter to go and live with her cousin. 
 
 It proved so, for Fanny Nesbit came and 
 took up her abode in Mr. Nesbit's large 
 house in the market-place, and, I imagine, 
 found it a very pleasant change from the 
 little crowded one where her mother and 
 step-father lived, surrounded by a large 
 family of small children. Fanny was too 
 delighted to escape the dull routine of the 
 minister's home to be able to reciprocate 
 her mother's regrets on their separation. 
 Mr. Nesbit's offer was far too favourable 
 to Fanny's interests as well as inclinations, 
 to be for a moment the subject of hesita- 
 tion on the part either of mother or daugh- 
 ter. Mr. N"esbit generously offered a fu- 
 ture as well as present provision for his 
 niece, and as Fanny had often visited her
 
 basil's bride. 11 
 
 cousin Agnes, she felt sure she could be 
 as happy with her as her heart could de- 
 sire. Besides, Fanny Nesbit was by no 
 means indifferent to all the circumstances 
 of ease and luxury by which she knew she 
 should be surrounded in her uncle's house. 
 I had occasionally seen Agnes's cousin 
 when stayiug in Castleford, but did not 
 know her intimately. The two girls re- 
 sembled each other in person, each taking 
 after her own father, being tall and fair, 
 and well-looking altogether ; but there 
 the resemblance ended, for there was 
 little similarity in the dispositions of the 
 cousins. Fanny had a certain amount of 
 quickness, which passed for cleverness, 
 and a plausibility of manner that generally 
 gained her friends, but there was a little- 
 ness and cunning in Fanny Nesbit's mental 
 constitution which had probably been in- 
 duced by the sort of life she had been 
 leading before she came to her uncle's 
 house.
 
 12 MES. GEEY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Fanny hated the strictness of her step- 
 father's views and habits, but she had been 
 forced to accommodate her own to those in- 
 culcated by precept and example in Mr. Tay- 
 lor's home, though so distasteful to herself. 
 
 Her mother was a weak woman, whilst 
 Fanny had a very strong will of her own, 
 with a clear view to her own interest, and 
 this latter sentiment seemed to influence 
 the former to a great extent. Fanny could 
 stoop to fawn and flatter if it suited her 
 purpose, and she could also carry things 
 with a high hand, when she found she 
 could conveniently do so. 
 
 When she arrived at Castleford she ex- 
 pressed herself full of gratitude for the 
 happy home, and all the comforts and 
 luxuries provided for her there ; whilst 
 Agnes was, on her part, only too delighted 
 to heap every indulgence that her generous 
 heart could devise upon her less fortunate 
 cousin. 
 
 Fanny, secure in the ample allowance
 
 basil's bride. 13 
 
 promised by lier uncle, made a merit of de- 
 clining some of the many gifts that Agnes 
 would have lavished on her. Being nearly 
 of the same height and size, Agnes would 
 have equipped Fanny at once from her own 
 handsome and abundant wardrobe, but 
 Fanny made a show of disinterestedness 
 on the occasion, and refused many of these 
 generous offerings. The inmost purpose 
 of her heart was answered when, a few 
 days after her arrival, her uncle placed a 
 cheque for a very liberal sum in her hand, 
 desiring Fanny to buy everything she 
 would require in her new position, which, 
 Mr. Nesbit observed, would necessitate a 
 much more extensive choice of habiliments 
 than she had required whilst living in the 
 dissenting minister's family. 
 
 Fanny's expressions of acquiescence and 
 gratitude were couched in the most appro- 
 priate language her busy brain could sug- 
 gest, and Mr. Nesbit was much pleased 
 with the new inmate of his house, of whom
 
 14 MES. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 lie had formerly seen but little, and taken 
 less notice. 
 
 Thus the two girls settled down, perfect- 
 ly happy and contented with each other. 
 Fanny meanwhile had masters for such 
 lessons as she thought would further her 
 advancement in life; her education had been 
 conducted on a very limited scale, and of 
 accomplishments she was entirely ignorant. 
 
 "For what," said Mr. Taylor, "had a 
 Christian young woman to do with such 
 light recreations as music and dancing? 
 As for the first, if she had any voice or ear, 
 let her sing hymns in the chapel, and she 
 would require no master to teach her how 
 to do that ; and as for the latter, it was an 
 abomination that need not be mentioned." 
 
 So Fanny came to her uncle's house 
 quite innocent, and altogether ignorant in 
 respect to these matters. Agnes, how- 
 ever, soon took care to provide her cousin 
 with the means of acquiring instruction 
 in both, and Fanny, with a quick ear,
 
 15 
 
 ready comprehension, and diligent practice, 
 made considerable advance, in the course 
 of a year, both in music and dancing, 
 Agnes aiding her cousin between her les- 
 sons in every possible way, by supplement- 
 ing the master's instructions. 
 
 Thus things went on for a year or two, 
 and Mr. Nesbit rejoiced in his heart that 
 he had managed matters so well, both to 
 give his daughter a suitable and pleasant 
 companion, and also to benefit the child of 
 the brother to whom in life he had been so 
 much attached. Fanny was, to all appear- 
 ance, very amiable and grateful to her 
 uncle and cousin for all the benefits they 
 conferred upon her. 
 
 It was in the second year of her domesti- 
 cation in her uncle's family that Basil 
 Egerton made his first appearance in the 
 merchant's family. It had been arranged 
 that he should live in Mr. Nesbit's house, 
 and the good man was not at all displeased 
 at the proposition, and readily seconded
 
 16 MRS. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 the wish of Basil's uncle (Mr. Egerton). So 
 Basil came and took up his abode as one of 
 the family. 
 
 When he first arrived it so happened 
 that Agnes was absent, visiting a school- 
 fellow, and Fanny had been left alone to 
 cheer her uncle whilst she was away. 
 Fanny had then an opportunity, of which she 
 made the most, of improving the acquaint- 
 ance of the new-comer. The two young- 
 people were thrown much together after 
 the business hoars of the day were over. 
 Fanny had an aspiring mind, and courted 
 social distinction. It became, therefore, 
 the great end and aim of her ambition to 
 captivate the young man thus thrown, as 
 it were, amongst them for that especial 
 purpose. 
 
 How far she succeeded I am unable to 
 tell. But from all I have since seen and 
 heard, I imagine that in playing with 
 edged tools she cut her own fingers, and be- 
 came hopelessly in love with Basil Egerton.
 
 basil's bride. 17 
 
 Young as lie was at tliat time, tie had seen 
 a good deal of society both abroad and at his 
 uncle's house, and plenty of pretty girls in 
 his own grade of society, so possibly, 
 though Fanny Nesbit was decidedly good- 
 looking, she might have been wanting in 
 something which Basil considered essential 
 to beauty. No doubt, having lived all her 
 life in the narrow circle of the dissenting 
 minister's clique, Fanny JN'esbit was entirely 
 wanting in style, and that well-bred ease 
 of manner to which the young man had 
 been accustomed. He, however, met her 
 advances to acquaintance with perfect good- 
 nature, and finding her established in his 
 present home, possibly considered her 
 (though under-bred, and wanting in many 
 respects) better worth talking to than the 
 elderly merchant, with his precise ideas 
 and business habits, or than any of the 
 pert and narrow-minded young men, his 
 fellow- clerks. So perhaps Fanny may be 
 excused if, in the height of her infatuation, 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 she believed that the feehng of which she 
 was but too conscious, in regard to Basil 
 Egerton, was duly reciprocated by him.
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 npHUS two or three weeks passed quickly 
 -*" away, and Fanny believed slie had 
 made considerable progress in the youno- 
 man's affections. She sought, too, to en- 
 list his sympathy and interest by repre- 
 senting herself as alone in the world, and 
 thrown upon the charity of her relations, 
 who, prosperous and happy themselves, 
 could not understand or enter into her 
 feelings. 
 
 No doubt it was in allusion to these re- 
 marks and insinuations on the part of 
 Eanny that Basil Egerton one day asked 
 me — then a girl, and a friend of the family 
 — whether Miss Agnes Nesbit was not 
 
 c2
 
 20 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 rather a self-sufficient and purse-proud sort 
 of young lady ? 
 
 My astonisliment could only find vent in 
 words expressive of utter bewilderment as 
 to wlio could ever have put such an idea 
 into his head. Never dreaming that it 
 could be the petted, pampered Fanny, who 
 was so greatly indebted to her sweet cousin. 
 The young man surveyed me with a keen 
 eye, and then laughed as he replied — 
 
 " Oh ! no one ever told me as much ; I 
 only inferred something of the kind from 
 various things I have heard." 
 
 " Then," replied 1, in youthful indigna- 
 tion, *' if you chose to listen to such hate- 
 ful and unfounded stories, I shall not con- 
 tradict them, but wait till you have see7i 
 Agnes, and then hear your opinion." 
 
 That time came very shortly afterwards. 
 Agnes returned home, and Basil had the 
 desired opportunity of judging for himself. 
 
 And now I shall relate things as I after- 
 wards gathered them, and not, perhaps, as
 
 basil's bride. 21 
 
 they occurred to my knowledge at the 
 time. 
 
 When Agnes arrived, Fanny made a 
 show of great delight, though her heart 
 was filled with secret misgiving, and she 
 watched eagerly to see whether her new 
 friend continued firm in his supposed al- 
 legiance to herself, after the advent of her 
 prettier and more prosperous cousin. She 
 made a show of retiring^ as if she felt her- 
 self to be quite superseded in every way 
 as soon as Agnes came home. 
 
 The morning after her arrival, however, 
 Fanny hurried down to meet Basil in the 
 breakfast-room before Agnes had appeared, 
 her ostensible object being to make the 
 tea before her uncle was ready for break- 
 fast. This post had been conferred upon 
 her soon after her arrival, as she was more 
 used to early hours, and could therefore be 
 better depended upon than Agnes, who 
 was rather dilatory in her habits. Fanny 
 glanced with much satisfaction at Basil,
 
 22 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 who was already in the room, looking over 
 the newspaper. 
 
 He nodded to her, as was his custoniy 
 just observing, 
 
 " Early as usual. Miss Fanny." 
 
 "Ah, yes," responded the young lady^ 
 with a little deprecating smile. " This is 
 my post, and, well or ill, I am always ex- 
 pected to be down at a certain hour ; but, 
 of course, it is quite right, and the proper 
 place for a dependant." 
 
 " Well, happily there is no great hard- 
 ship in making tea every morning." And 
 then he added, unwarily — " I am sure I 
 shall expect my wife to do as much for 
 me, early or late, as may be." 
 
 Fanny felt as if this was half-way to a 
 proposal, so only simpered and replied : 
 
 '' I daresay your wife will be very 
 pleased to do so for you every morning, 
 and every evening too, if you require it." 
 
 Basil's thoughts had, however, drifted 
 away from the tea-making subject, and
 
 basil's hride. 23 
 
 reverted to the implied hardship, and the 
 innocent cause of it, saying, 
 
 " So that Miss Agnes puts it all upon 
 you ? But she does not look as if she 
 could be very hard upon anyone, does 
 she ?" 
 
 To this query Fanny indirectly replied : 
 
 " I am sure, if she were so, I should be 
 the last person to say so ; but, you see, 
 Agnes and I have been so differently 
 brought up. In my case, T have always 
 had to think of everybody before myself, 
 whereas Agnes, being so rich, and an only 
 child, has only had to consider her own 
 wishes and fancies, and do whatever has 
 been most pleasant to herself all her 
 life." , 
 
 '' I should not think it has made her 
 selfish, though, to judge by her looks," said 
 the young man, to the evident discomfiture 
 of his amiable companion, who only gave 
 a short, impatient sigh, and returned to 
 the tea-making business at the breakfast-
 
 24 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 table, whilst Basil took up his newspaper, 
 and continued its perusal. 
 
 Soon after that, Agnes came down, 
 looking as bright as a sunbeam coming 
 into the room, whilst her cousin's face 
 clouded over as she saw the responsive 
 brightness on the young man's face as he 
 returned her cheerful morning greeting. 
 Agnes's manners were particularly frank 
 and kind ; she had been accustomed to re- 
 ceive kindness all her life, and to please 
 wherever she appeared. Such indulgence 
 might have spoilt a less sweet-tempered, 
 unselfish girl, for Fanny's ungenerous in- 
 sinuations were as unfounded as they were 
 designing. Perhaps she hardly realised 
 the extent of her treachery and ingrati- 
 tude. She did not wish to injure her 
 cousin, but she had begun to consider that 
 Basil Egerton was her lawful property, or, 
 rather, that she had a prior claim upon 
 his regard. 
 
 In her ill-regulated mind she had be-
 
 basil's beide. 25 
 
 stowed mucli more thought and interest 
 upon him than his shght civilities towards 
 her had warranted. In her ignorance 
 of " men and manners," she had taken a 
 few superficial compliments and common- 
 place attentions for something of a far 
 more serious character. To marry at all 
 was a great object with her, and one she 
 was eager to attain, notwithstanding her 
 uncle's kind intentions towards her, and 
 her present state of ease and comfort. 
 She longed for independence and a home 
 of her own, where she might be first in- 
 stead of second in every way. Besides 
 that, she liked and admired Basil Egerton 
 as far superior to any young man who had 
 hitherto crossed her path in the way of 
 acquaintance, and she longed to have a 
 claim to enter that higher sphere of life 
 and society to which he by every right 
 belonged. 
 
 That he would eventually achieve suc- 
 cess in any profession or employment to
 
 26 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 whicli he chose to devote his energies, she 
 never for one moment doubted ; indeed, 
 she had good authority for such a convic- 
 tion, as she had heard her plain-spoken, 
 practical uncle declare, after a close ob- 
 servation of his new clerk, that the young 
 man had brains which would always help 
 him, as long as he depended upon them 
 instead of his fine friends, and was satis- 
 fied to stick close to his work. 
 
 Fanny wished heartily that Agues had 
 delayed her return home ; she had fondly 
 hoped to gain such decided influence over 
 Basil before she appeared, that he might 
 have been induced to say something w^hich 
 would have given her a sure hold over his 
 future actions, and have entitled her to 
 demand every attention from him as her 
 own by right. 
 
 Fanny was by no means diffident as re- 
 garded her own claims to admiration, but 
 she was dimly conscious that Agnes, al- 
 though hardly better-born than herself,
 
 basil's bride. 27 
 
 was better-bred ; that the ease and luxury 
 in which she had been cradled had given 
 her a certain advantage over herself, 
 brought up in the narrowness and penury 
 of her early home, deficient in every- 
 thing that beautifies existence. She saw, 
 too, that Agnes was sought in society by 
 those who were her superiors in rank, and 
 the rich merchant's only child was a wel- 
 come guest in many places to which she 
 was never invited. 
 
 Fanny was well aware that she was 
 only looked upon as the poor cousin, in- 
 debted to the charity and kindness of her 
 uncle and cousin for every attention from 
 others, as well as daily comforts at home. 
 Unhappily, instead of these considerations 
 making Fanny more amiable and grateful, 
 they had rather the contrary effect of fill- 
 ing her heart with envy and spite, and 
 other unpleasant sensations. 
 
 Well, Agnes was in the field at last, 
 and, according to Fanny's supposition,
 
 28 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 •was trying to take her kingdom from her. 
 So it behoved her to use every stratagem, 
 which she considered was lawful in love as 
 well as in war. Agnes, happily quite uncon- 
 scious of all that was working against her 
 in her cousin's mind, came between her 
 and her intended lover, armed only with the 
 ■weapons of her natural grace, and an in- 
 describable sweetness of manner which 
 gained the hearts of young and old alike. 
 
 Basil, on that first morning of Agnes's 
 return, could not help reverting in his 
 thoughts to the insinuations which had 
 been thrown out against her by her cousin. 
 He looked at the two girls, and compared 
 them. They were undoubtedly very much 
 alike, besides a strong family resemblance 
 in voice, but there the likeness ceased. 
 Fanny's manners were rather under-bred, 
 artificial, and self-conscious, full of conceit 
 and pretension, even when she dealt most 
 largely in self-depreciation. What those 
 of Agnes were I have already said — win-
 
 basil's bride. 29 
 
 ning, natural, and kind. Perhaps Fanny's 
 features were really the handsomest, and 
 she had what mio^ht have been called a 
 finer figure. Agnes was as tall, but slen- 
 derer, with a more willow-like figure, and 
 her complexion was much fairer. Alto- 
 gether more loveable-looking in every way. 
 Now Basil was quite young in those 
 days, and had thought but little of love, 
 and not at all of matrimony; he was no 
 doubt pleased to find two nice girls in his 
 new home, and did not even contrast them 
 in his mind with others he had seen in a 
 different class of society in his uncle's 
 house. He took them both as they were, 
 as he became acquainted with each, never 
 dreaming that the obvious attentions 
 lavished on him by Fanny, when he first 
 came, meant anything more than a kindly 
 welcome to her uncle's house. He rather 
 wondered at the sentiments she sometimes 
 let fall as to her own unfortunate position 
 in the world, and the hardship which she
 
 30 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 suffered in beins^ an inmate of her uncle's 
 house. His first natural impression was, 
 if he ever thought seriously on the sub- 
 ject, that it was her own fault if she could 
 not make herself happy and comfortable 
 where she was ; but then he supposed girls 
 were sometimes odd creatures, and had 
 strange, unaccountable whims and fancies, 
 and it might be Miss Fanny could not get 
 on with her cousin, who perhaps was a little 
 spoilt and overbearing, and probably her 
 dependent situation made her feel things 
 in a way that was never intended. Then he 
 thought of his own former position as a 
 hanger-on in his uncle's house. Only he 
 remembered he had not made himself very 
 uneasy on that head, though it had in- 
 duced him to take the step of seeking the 
 place he was then occupyiug. 
 
 ''But of course," said he to himself, 
 " a man can always work his own way in 
 the world whilst he has two hands and a 
 head, but it is different with girls."
 
 basil's BRlDi<^. 31 
 
 So the matter rested in his mind until 
 Agnes came home ; and then he found that 
 all his preconceived notions about her 
 (gathered from her cousin's insinuations) 
 were very much at fault. 
 
 The first evening of her return Agnes 
 was tired ; she had come a long journey, 
 and she could not talk as unreservedly as 
 usual about all her proceedings to her father 
 and Fanny in the presence of an entire 
 stranger, so she was rather more silent 
 than usual; but there was no mistaking 
 the sweet courtesy of her manner towards 
 himself, and the endearing way in which, 
 when she spoke, she addressed her father 
 and her cousin. It was, therefore, with a 
 slight feeling of incredulity the next morn- 
 ing that Basil listened to the covert remarks 
 which Fanny Nesbit meant to be applicable 
 to her cousin Agnes ; if they were, he 
 thought, looks were very deceitful, espe- 
 cially those of Agnes ISTesbit. But when 
 the girl came into the breakfast-room, his
 
 32 MES. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 thoughts speedily acquitted her of every- 
 thing unamiable, or the possibility of show- 
 ing unkindness to one so nearly related to 
 her, and dependent on her for every enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 '' Poor girl !" thought Basil of Fanny, 
 ^' I fear it is her own crotchety temper 
 that stands in her way, though really she 
 has been very kind to me ever since I came." 
 
 Yes, and would have gladly been much 
 kinder still, had not Basil's own blindness 
 and preoccupation stood in the way. He 
 had then no more thoughts of falling in 
 love with the rich merchant's only daugh- 
 ter than he had with her penniless cousin ; 
 and Agnes, on her part, had as little de- 
 sign upon his heart, or fear of losing her 
 own. She had mixed freely in society, 
 and had no doubt been the avowed object 
 both of love and admiration, but as yet 
 she had escaped fancy free, still found all 
 her happiness in her home, and was glad to 
 remain her father's comfort and companion.
 
 basil's bride. 33 
 
 Nevertlieless, it soon appeared that Agnes 
 was ere long likely to be tempted to leave 
 that pleasant shelter, and be wooed to find 
 a still dearer companion elsewhere. 
 
 It happened that, whilst Agnes was on 
 her distant visit to her old school friends, 
 another guest came at the same time to staj 
 there, and remained nearly all the time of 
 Agnes's visit. This gentleman was a Mr. 
 Vavasour, a distant relation of the family 
 with whom she was staying. He was many 
 years older than herself, but still young 
 and good-lookiug enough to take a girl's 
 fancy, if her heart was disengaged. He 
 was at the time on leave from India, 
 where he occupied a high civil post, and 
 as in those days such situations were far 
 more lucrative than they are at present, 
 Mr. Vavasour was undoubtedly a rich 
 man, as well as a fairly pleasant and gen- 
 tlemanlike one. There had been no pro- 
 posal made to Agnes during the time of 
 her visit, but Mr. Vavasour's attentions 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 MES. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 were sufficiently marked to show what his 
 intentions were, especially when he told 
 Agnes, just before she left her friend's 
 house, that he did not consider their part- 
 ing at all final, as he hoped to be staying 
 in her neisrhbourhood in the course of a 
 week or two, and should certainly find his 
 way to Castleford, and trusted she would 
 allow him to call and become acquainted 
 with Mr. Nesbit. 
 
 When Agnes, the day after her return, 
 with her usual frank candour, related this 
 circumstance to her father, he knit his 
 brow, but naturally asked, 
 
 " And what did you say to that, Agnes ?" 
 " Why, papa, I had no right to keep 
 him away, so, of course, I said we should 
 be happy to see him."
 
 35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FANNY NESBIT'S mind was greatly 
 relieved when Agues made her little 
 announcement ; slie fancied now her own 
 way would be clear and prosperous. A real 
 suitor coming for her cousin would remove 
 every obstacle from her own path ; for 
 though she still fondly adhered to the 
 flattering belief that Basil secretly pre- 
 ferred her to her cousin, yet he might be 
 dazzled by the brilliant prospect of 
 Agnes's future fortune. 
 
 When Agnes spoke of Mr. Vavasour's 
 intended visit she was alone with her 
 father and Fanny, and as the former left 
 the room soon after the communication 
 
 d2
 
 36 MRS. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 was made, Fanny hastened to improve the 
 opportunity by asking what manner of man 
 was this same Mr. Vavasour, and by putting 
 various other questions tending to evince 
 her conviction that the said gentleman 
 was coming as an open admirer and can- 
 didate for her cousin's hand. 
 
 To all these queries Agnes returned 
 playful, half laughing rejoinders, but said 
 nothing that could satisfy the persistent 
 inquirer. Fanny, although so anxious to 
 believe that Mr. Yavasour was coming to 
 carry Agnes awa}^ heard nothing from 
 herself to confirm that hope and expecta- 
 tion. At last Fanny, baffled and anxious, 
 exclaimed, 
 
 '' But I should like to know, Agnes, 
 what it really is, if it is not yo% that 
 brings this Mr. Yavasour to Castle- 
 ford?" 
 
 "I can only tell you, Fanny, what he 
 said — to call on papa." 
 
 " Yery likely, indeed ! If he had never
 
 37 
 
 seen you, would he have wanted to come 
 here to see uncle?" 
 
 "" Very likely not," acquiesced Agnes. 
 
 " There, then you do own it at last. 
 Well, I am glad of that." 
 
 "Glad of what, Fanny dear?" 
 
 " Oh ! you provoking thing ! You know. 
 I mean I am glad that you are honest at 
 last, and confess that your new friend is 
 coming to see you." 
 
 "Well, and if he does, what of that? 
 He will be staying in the neighbourhood, 
 and surely it is nothing remarkable that, 
 as we have been staying together in the 
 same house for a month, and know all the 
 same people, he should pay a visit here, 
 and be introduced to papa." 
 
 And then Agnes, tired apparently of 
 the subject, took up a book, and left 
 the room, so that Fanny was obliged 
 to devour her suspicions in silence. 
 
 I happened to be present two or three 
 times on these occasions, and one day
 
 38 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 when Fanny was more than usually perti- 
 nacious, Agnes turned awa}'^, for once al- 
 most impatient, saying, 
 
 ''Really, Fanny, if you tease so about 
 nothing, I must do something to stop your 
 tongue." 
 
 Just then Basil came into the room, and 
 Fanny turned eagerly to him with a flushed 
 face, exclaiming, 
 
 '' Oh ! Mr. Egerton, I am so glad you 
 are come. Agnes is so angry with me, 
 and threatening all sorts of horrid things 
 against poor me." 
 
 ''And what has 'poor me' been saying 
 or doing to deserve such chastisement?" 
 asked the young man, drawing near to 
 Agnes, and laughing. 
 
 '' Oh ! I must not tell, I daresay, but we 
 shall know very soon, though Agnes need 
 not be so cross about it/' said Fanny, not 
 at all in the tone of a subdued and depress- 
 ed dependant. 
 
 Basil looked from one to the other, but
 
 basil's beide. 39 
 
 liis ejes lingered longer on Agnes's fair 
 face, and she, feeling tlie scrutiny she was 
 undergoing, looked up quietly into the 
 young man's face, and said, in reply, 
 
 "It is nothing very interesting to you 
 to hear about, Mr. Egerton. Only an ac- 
 quaintance I made where I was lately stay- 
 ing who is coming into this neighbourhood, 
 and proposes to call here some day when in 
 Castleford." 
 
 '' Oh !" exclaimed Fanny, who was in an 
 irrepressible state of mind — " Ah ! but ivho 
 is the acquaintance, and ivliat is he coming 
 for?" 
 
 Agnes coloured more from annoyance 
 at her cousin's want of tact and ill-breed- 
 ing than from any personal interest she 
 might feel in the matter, and that was 
 so evident, both to Basil and myself, that 
 by our united efforts we contrived to stem 
 the stream of Fanny's volubilitj', and turn 
 the conversation to some subject on w^hich 
 she did not care to enter.
 
 40 MES. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Agnes liad been at home about a month 
 when Mr. Yavasour made his threatened 
 call. All the family were out at the 
 time, so his card was the only thing we 
 saw of him that day. Fanny disquieted 
 herself very much on the occasion, and 
 declared she should stay at home the next 
 day to receive him, if Agnes would not. 
 
 Mr. ISFesbit, when he joined the party 
 before dinnef, looked at Mr. "Vavasour's 
 card with an intentness that the little piece 
 of cardboard hardly merited ; it seemed as 
 if he was trying to look beyond the evi- 
 dence of the casual call to something far 
 more important, but still connected with 
 it. Agnes only took it up for a moment, 
 with the observation, 
 
 " Oh, so Mr. Yavasour is come. He must 
 have been sorry to find us all out." 
 
 " No doubt, if he is so very anxious to 
 see you," replied Fanny; ''he will call 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 " Hardly likely," said Agnes, quietly.
 
 basil's bride. 41 
 
 the usages of civilized society being more 
 familiar to her than to her cousin. 
 
 Agnes was, however, very tender and 
 forbearing to Fanny under the circum- 
 stances, and remembering her imperfect 
 education made every excuse for the many 
 instances in which she was found wanting, 
 often saying, if others were less indulgent, 
 ^' How should poor Fanny know this or 
 that? — but she is so quick, she will be 
 sure to remember it next time." 
 
 It was not till after Basil Egertons 
 domestication in their family that these 
 traits of vulgarity of thought and action 
 made themselves painfully apparent. 
 Fanny had before lived a life of quiet 
 imitation of the ways of others, especially 
 of Agnes, and had followed the usual 
 habits of her uncle's house. She had had 
 no temptation to coquetry, for there had 
 been nothing to provoke the spirit which 
 lay dormant in Fanny's bosom ; she was, 
 therefore, a far pleasaater and more ami-
 
 42 MRS. grey's remtntscenoes. 
 
 able being tlian now, when she was agitated 
 b}^ various feelings more or less repre- 
 hensible and unamiable. 
 
 That Basil soon began to fathom her 
 character, I cannot doubt, for one day, 
 when Agnes kindly checked some unseem- 
 ly outburst of opinion, Eanny turned to 
 Basil, exclaiming — 
 
 '' There, Mr. Egerton, I hope you will 
 take my part, for Agnes is looking dag- 
 gers at me for my little innocent remark." 
 Then, seeing there w^as no mark of sym- 
 pathy on Basil's countenance, and fearing 
 to go too far with her cousin, she turned 
 it all off with a laugh (rather forced, to be 
 sure), and said — '' I know I am a sad, im- 
 pulsive creature, and given to speak my 
 mind too freely, but — " and here she lower- 
 ed her voice for Basil alone to hear — '' but 
 I ought to have learnt to keep silence in 
 all subjection by this time." 
 
 ''Well," replied Basil, as the person ad- 
 dressed, "you have every opportunity of
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. 43' 
 
 seeing and learning everything that is 
 most charming and desirable in a woman." 
 And then his looks rested on Agnes's 
 sweet face, which, from its passing tinge 
 of colour, showed that she had heard and 
 noted all that passed, but was content to 
 say no more. 
 
 Poor Fanny ! her face was a picture of 
 mortification and impotent anger at that 
 moment ; she could not trust herself to 
 speak again, and soon after left the room. 
 It w^as then that Basil Egerton observed 
 to me with a smile, and speaking quite 
 low, 
 
 " Yes, I have seen and judged for my- 
 self by this time how matters stand hero ; 
 but to think of that o^irl " — lookin2: towards 
 the door through which Fanny had van- 
 ished — " to think of her daring to insinu- 
 ate that she was ' put upon/ and to try 
 to make herself out a SAveet victim, and 
 — it makes me angry to think of it — that 
 her cousin was anything short of perfec-
 
 44 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 tion ! I only marvel at lier never-failing 
 sweetness and forbearance !" 
 
 Mr. Nesbit was not long in returning 
 Mr. Vavasour's visit. He happened to 
 know the gentleman with whom he was 
 staying near Castleford. He was a 
 Captain Allen, who had spent many years 
 in India, and had been obliged to retire 
 rather early invalided ; but as he was a con- 
 firmed bachelor, his modest pension amply 
 sufficed for all his wants. He lived in a 
 large cottage in the middle of a good piece 
 of garden ground, and there he passed 
 most of his time, and found his chief 
 amusement and occupation. When he 
 came into Castleford, either to read the 
 papers or for shopping purposes, he often 
 called on his old friend and schoolfellow, 
 Mr. Nesbit, and sometimes found his way 
 upstairs to the drawing-room, where he 
 did not disdain to sit down and have a 
 chat with the girls. 
 
 It appeared he was pleased, but rather
 
 basil's EKIDE. 45 
 
 in a fidget at the honour he was about to 
 receive from his self-invited guest, Mr. Va- 
 vasour ; he was a distant cousin, and though 
 they had met frequently, years ago, in 
 India, when Mr. Vavasour was a youngster, 
 they had not much in common. Mr. Vava- 
 sour had risen to his influential post since 
 Captain Allen's military days in India, but 
 he had occasionally heard of him since as 
 a great and prosperous man, and after he 
 had proposed a visit to Captain Allen, 
 that gentleman had often dilated to Mr. 
 Kesbit upon the riches and grandeur of his 
 connexion, Mr. Vavasour. Thus it came 
 to pass that Mr. Nesbit was inclined to 
 look very favourably upon his new ac- 
 quaintance, for wealth had an irresistible 
 attraction to the rich merchant ; it was his 
 one great weakness to worship the idol 
 Mammon that had — as it was supposed — 
 inclined so favourably to himself, and 
 raised him from obscurity to consideration 
 and honour in his native place.
 
 46 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 Thus in a short time a considerable de- 
 gree of intimacy sprang up between the two 
 houses. It was early Summer at that time, 
 and there were frequent walking and riding 
 excursions, in which the two girls were 
 escorted by the old Captain and his guest. 
 Mr. Nesbit occasionally joined the party, 
 but he generally preferred attending to the 
 many calls upon his time in his own office. 
 There also poor Basil Egerton was doomed 
 to pass the greater number of his hours, 
 and it must have been tantalising to the 
 young man to listen to the history of the 
 past day's amusement, or the projects 
 formed for the morrow. 
 
 I saw but little of what passed that 
 Summer, for my own marriage took place 
 then, and Dr. Grey and I w^ent for a 
 short honeymoon excursion, before we re- 
 turned to take up our final abode in Castle- 
 ford. 
 
 When that time came, I found my 
 friends, the JSTesbits, in their old home,
 
 basil's bride. 47 
 
 everything seeming outwardly mucli the 
 same as when I went away, but Mr. Vava- 
 sour was gone, and Captain Allen also 
 was absent, making his yearly visit to an 
 old friend at Cheltenham. I thought 
 Agnes looked pale and anxious, and Fanny 
 hopeful and cheerful. I suspected some 
 crisis in the family affairs had occurred, 
 and soon learnt the history. 
 
 It appeared that Mr. Vavasour had 
 spoken to Mr. ISTesbit, and declared his 
 love for his dauofhter, at the same time 
 telling him he could not flatter himself that 
 he had as yet made the impression he de- 
 sired ; but he had hopes that Miss Nesbit 
 did not object to or dislike him, so all he 
 asked was to be allowed to try his chance 
 with her, and endeavour to win her love, 
 so that he might hope to take her back 
 with him as his wife to India. 
 
 He spoke modestly enough of his posi- 
 tion there, but said enough to show that it 
 would be a very desirable one for his wife.
 
 48 MES. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 He also promised Mr. Nesbit that, in the 
 course of a few years, he would resign his 
 post, and come and live in England, add- 
 ing that he should by that time have 
 realized wealth enough to allow him to 
 do so in a manner that would insure a 
 splendid jDOsition to his wife. 
 
 It appeared astonishing that a rich man 
 like Mr. Nesbit should have been dazzled 
 by these prospects to such an extent as to 
 promise his only daughter to Mr. Yavasour, 
 in the event of a mutual attachment. But 
 that latter proviso only appeared to be in- 
 serted for the sake of propriety, as Mr. 
 Nesbit appeared to consider he had every 
 right to dispose of his daughter, and — her 
 affections ! 
 
 Mr. Vavasour left the place soon after 
 his proposal, fearing perhaps to press the 
 matter too closely at first. He wished 
 Agnes to consider well, he said, all the ad- 
 vantages, as well as the sacrifices she would 
 be called upon to make, and only hoped, by
 
 basil's bride. 49 
 
 the devotion of his life, to make every 
 amends for the latter, should she consent 
 to become his wife. 
 
 There was much earnestness as well as 
 honesty about the man's declaration, and 
 Mr. Nesbit gave his ready and unqualified 
 consent (with the proviso I have already 
 mentioned), and it was settled that Mr. 
 Vavasour was to return to Castleford in the 
 Autumn, and remain there till the follow- 
 ing Spring, when he was to return, after 
 his year's absence, to India. He proposed 
 taking rooms at the principal hotel, and 
 bringing some horses down for hunting 
 during the season. Of course Mr. Nesbit's 
 house would be open to him at all times, 
 and he would have every opportunity af- 
 forded for prosecuting his suit. 
 
 It seemed a strange methodical way of 
 laying siege to a young girl's heart, and of 
 eventually securing her hand, but the 
 middle-aged, practical wooer, and the 
 elderly merchant, arranged their plans be- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 -50 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 tween themselves, without any misgiving 
 as to their future success. 
 
 And what did Agnes say to all this? 
 Nothing ! — absolutely nothing ! when asked 
 that searching question, 
 
 *' But what do you say to all this, Agnes? 
 and to Mr. Vavasour's coming back with 
 the avowed intention of seeking you as his 
 wife?" 
 
 "What can I say? No one has ever 
 asked me anything. How can I refuse a 
 man who has never offered to me, or said 
 a word of love to me ?" 
 
 " But it is well known what his inten- 
 tions are, for it is understood he has told 
 them to your father." 
 
 " Then my father must answer him — it 
 is none of my concern." 
 
 " But it will be before long. And per- 
 haps you are content with things as they 
 are? You have made up your mind to 
 become Mr. Vavasour's wife, to go out to 
 India with him ?"
 
 basil's bride. 51 
 
 Then Agnes seemed to wake up from 
 lier strange lethargy, as she pronounced, 
 with calm decision, the one single word — 
 '' Never !" 
 
 Alas ! poor Agnes ! When her lips 
 uttered that one word, no doubt her heart 
 echoed the sound. She little knew how 
 weak her young will was, or how strong 
 was that of the man who so quietly, to all 
 appearance, sought her for his wife. Far 
 less did she divine how determined was the 
 intention of her father that she should be- 
 come so. 
 
 At that time I thoroughly believe that 
 Agnes — though she saw the whole game 
 that was so cunningly devised and mapped 
 out to influence her future destiny — • 
 fully believed, whenever the fatal ques^ 
 tion was addressed to herself, that she 
 would have but to speak the word, and all 
 would be at an end. 
 
 Meanwhile it was evidently very distaste- 
 ful to her to think of or talk upon the sub- 
 
 E 2 
 
 UBRARY 
 WNiVERSmrOFfUlMOtS
 
 52 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 ject. She seemed determined to ignore 
 the whole proceeding. And then it oc- 
 curred to me to wonder whether Agnes had 
 any heart to bestow, and whether she was 
 not living in a dreamland of her own, half 
 unconsciously, perhaps, but yet so happily 
 entranced that she feared to waken up, and 
 thus dissolve the vision. 
 
 This idea occurred to me soon after our 
 return to Castleford, when dining with a 
 large party at the merchant's house. 
 There was music, with cards and- other de- 
 vices for passing the time that evening. 
 But sitting quietly apart on a sofa, and 
 not joining in any of these amusements, 
 my attention was drawn to a certain couple 
 who approached each other after all the 
 rest of the company were busily engaged. 
 Mr. l^esbit was fully engrossed at his 
 whist- table, where he sat, his whole heart 
 and soul devoted to the mysteries of the 
 game — and his partner. At the piano 
 Eanny was in great force; not as a per-
 
 basil's bside. 53 
 
 former on the instrument, but joining in a 
 glee, in which her high, powerful voice was 
 making sweet melody, and with very good 
 effect, too. Still I could see that her eyes 
 turned ever and anon in the direction of 
 the afore-mentioned couple. 
 
 They drew near to each other, but in a 
 careless sort of way, such as might induce 
 ordinary spectators to infer that it was 
 chance, and not inclination or pre-medita- 
 tion, that ruled their movements. The 
 young man — Basil Egerton — was the first 
 who spoke. 
 
 " Have you any fancy for chess this 
 evening ?" trying to look as indifferent as 
 possible. 
 
 The young lady — Agnes — made answer 
 in an equally indifferent tone. 
 
 " Well, I hardly know. It is difficult 
 to give one^s attention in such a large 
 party." 
 
 "Never mind," — more eagerly — "you 
 need not attend to it."
 
 54 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ^' Very well," with a faint laugh, and 
 the two drew a table between them, and 
 sat down to a srame of chess.
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 A FTER that they played many more 
 •^-^ games at chess, and ere long became 
 (as I had opportunities of observing) very 
 deeply engrossed in a more serious and 
 dangerous game, of which it was difficult 
 to forecast what might be the result. 
 
 For a little time all went on quietly. 
 Mr. Vavasour was absent, and Mr. Nesbit 
 too closely engaged in business at home to 
 look very intently into anything that might 
 be passing, however near to him. He had 
 evidently made up his mind as to the 
 future disposal of his only child. She was 
 to become a very rich and great lady in 
 India for a time, and then was to be 
 brought back to him, to gladden his de-
 
 56 MES. GHEt's EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 dining years with the sight of her, and her 
 husband's prosperity. 
 
 All that Avas settled, he thought, and 
 who could object? Not his obedient and 
 dutiful daughter, who had hitherto made 
 his wishes her laws ; and least of all did 
 the worthy merchant imagine danger from 
 the penniless though well-born young 
 clerk whom he had (he considered) taken 
 into his house and office out of charity. 
 So, for a time, the lovers went their way 
 unchecked, falling deeper and deeper in 
 love, and becoming all the world to each 
 other. 
 
 Basil no doubt suspected in some mea- 
 sure the state of Fanny Nesbit's feelings 
 both towards himself and her cousin; 
 he was, therefore, careful to conceal the 
 true state of things from her watchful 
 eyes, and, at his request, Agnes reposed 
 no confidence in Fanny. Possibly the 
 latter was misled by their appearance of 
 assumed indifference, and was anticipating
 
 f.asil's bride. 57 
 
 the time when she should be left her uncle's 
 sole companion, and free to woo or be 
 wooed by the recreant Basil, who would 
 no doubt then (if he had wavered in the 
 meantime from his allegiance) be willing 
 and ready to return to his premier 
 amour. Thus Fanny found consolation 
 under the suspicions which no doubt (even 
 with the utmost circumspection of the 
 lovers) would at times*assail her. How- 
 ever, looking to her future reward, she 
 ignored all present discrepancies, and went 
 the even tenor of her way, looking appa- 
 rently neither to the right hand nor to the 
 left, and feeling that it would be very im- 
 politic' to make herself unnecessarily dis- 
 agreeable either to her cousin or to her 
 own intended lover. 
 
 The real lovers, meanwhile, were enjoy- 
 ing their brief season of immunity from 
 coming care and sorrow, and Agnes was, 
 though agitated, yet happy for a season. 
 As I have said, she looked very pale and
 
 58 MRS. grky's reminiscences. 
 
 anxious, tliougli prettier than ever; the 
 more deeply she loved Basil, the more did 
 she begin to realise how unpleasant the 
 mere presence of another lover would be 
 to herself, and to dread, as the time of Mr. 
 Yavasour's return drew near, the possible 
 collision of opinion between herself and 
 her father. 
 
 Basil Egerton, too, began to nerve him- 
 self for the coming conflict. He was only 
 too ready to step forward and claim the 
 hand of the girl he loved so entirely and 
 devotedly. He felt he was entitled, from 
 his advantages of birth and education, to 
 ask Mr. Nesbit even for that priceless 
 treasure, his daughter, though the in- 
 equality of their gifts of fortune might 
 cause a slight demur. But he was quite 
 ready to wait and work for his bride, if her 
 father considered such an ordeal needful. 
 
 In the meanwhile, both the young people 
 were fully aware that they must have 
 patience, and wait until Mr. Vavasour's
 
 basil's bride. 69^ 
 
 favoured pretensions were disposed of, 
 before which it would not be at all likely 
 that Mr. Nesbit would listen to or take any- 
 fresh proposals into consideration. 
 
 October was slowly drawing to a close 
 when the moment dreaded by Agnes, but 
 eagerly anticipated by Fanny, arrived. 
 They heard that Mr. Vavasour was come 
 to Castleford, and Mr. Nesbit, with evident 
 satisfaction, announced he was to dine with 
 the famil}^ party that day. The same after- 
 noon Agnes called at my house, and begged 
 me, if I was alone, to join their family din- 
 ner-party. She did not say why, but only 
 observed that it would break the formality 
 of the meeting, and if Dr. Grey could come 
 also, so much the better ; but he could not, 
 so I went alone. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit and Agnes were already in 
 the room, and Basil soon after glided in, 
 took a distant seat, and appeared en- 
 grossed in a new novel. Mr. Vavasour 
 was announced. Mr. Nesbit was the only
 
 60 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 person who had seen him since his return, 
 and it was his first meeting with Agnes in 
 the character of her avowed suitor. I saw 
 the poor girl grow pale to the Yerj lips, 
 whilst she tried to look unconscious, and 
 asked him some trivial questions as to his 
 journey, and where he had been passing 
 his time — which, by the way, she might 
 liave very well known, as Mr. Nesbit had 
 received constant letters from Mr. Vava- 
 sour, no doubt containing the iuformation 
 she sought, as well as various queries about 
 all most interesting to himself at Castleford. 
 Mr. Vavasour was rather under-sized, but 
 carried himself well, had good features, well- 
 preserved hair and teeth, and was good- 
 looking enough for his five and forty years. 
 His dress was extremely soig7ie, and not alto- 
 gether in bad taste. Still he seemed but 
 an ill-suited pretender to the hand of the 
 tall, graceful girl, who, coming forward, 
 had remained for a moment beside him, 
 making him appear even smaller and
 
 basil's bride. 61 
 
 shorter than he really was. Then Basil 
 came out of his distant corner to an- 
 swer the greeting of the newly-arrived 
 guestj and, with his air of birth and good- 
 breeding, made the contrast still more 
 apparent, when he joined the ill-assorted 
 pair. As he stood beside them, young, tall, 
 and handsome, he looked much better suit- 
 ed to be Agnes's chosen lover. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit, however, saw no discrepancy 
 in the match he was so anxious to secure. 
 Mr. Vavasour's social importance and 
 wealth were not diminished by want of 
 inches to his stature, so he surveyed the 
 pair with unmistakable complacency, and 
 coming up to me, invited my participation 
 in the satisfaction which was so evident. 
 
 Fanny N'esbit soon after made her ap- 
 pearance, and after that we all went to 
 dinner. During that evening Fanny proved 
 herself a very useful companion, and did 
 her best to be a pleasant one. She was at 
 that time far the most cheerful of the two
 
 62 Mus. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 cousins. She lauoflied and talked to both 
 Agnes's lovers, making the agreeable to 
 Mr. Vavasour whenever opportunity offer- 
 ed, and also establishing a claim on Basil's 
 gratitude by leaving an unoccupied place by 
 Agnes, when the whole party, at Mr. JSTesbit's 
 desire, sat down to a round game of cards. 
 
 I saw that life had begun in dreadful 
 earnest to Agnes, who, now that the time 
 was really come, thought very differently 
 of the conflict before her from what she did 
 in the days when she declared she was con- 
 tented to let things take their course, and 
 to take hers as circumstances should decide. 
 
 Mr. Vavasour was, however, a cautious 
 wooer, he had no idea of rushing in red- 
 hot haste upon his fate before he had some 
 idea of what that fate was likely to be. 
 He had no doubt, with Mr. JSTesbit's assist- 
 ance, he was safe to carry the day, but he 
 wished to win the girl's heart (whom he 
 truly loved) as well as her hand. So he 
 took things in a very leisurely way. He
 
 basil's bride. 63 
 
 had come to Castleford intending to spend 
 the Winter ; he had, moreover, brought two 
 very handsome horses with him, for, Indian 
 though he was, he was fond of hunting, 
 and rode well. So his great ambition was 
 to be accompanied to covert's side by 
 Agnes Nesbit, and her cousin, if she liked 
 to ride with them, as she always did. 
 
 It was very hard on Basil, who loved 
 sport dearly, to see the girl he wor- 
 shipped lifted on to her horse by the man 
 who was to accompany her throughout the 
 morning, and by that means help to make 
 known the terms on which he was supposed 
 to stand with the rich merchant's daughter. 
 I do not think poor Basil ever cared to 
 leave his desk to glance at the riding-party, 
 as they took their way on those mornings, 
 when the hounds met sufficiently near to 
 allow of the Miss JSTesbits riding with Mr. 
 Vavasour in that direction. 
 
 The two girls generally returned from 
 covert side attended by their groom,
 
 64 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 and sometimes by Mr. ISTesbit himself, who 
 considered an early morning's ride very 
 " constitutional." 
 
 And thus it came to pass that Agnes 
 was led into daily companionship with Mr. 
 Vavasour, and everyone in the town and 
 in the neighbourhood fully believed in their 
 engagement. There were many parties 
 and dances that Winter, and Mr. Vava- 
 sour's presence was eagerly sought by the 
 givers of such entertainments, both on his 
 own account, and on that of his supposed 
 connexion with the Nesbits. 
 
 So the time drifted on, and Christmas 
 came and went. ISTot a word had been 
 spoken to alarm Agnes, or drag the secret 
 of her heart into the light of day and open 
 discussion. She was to a certain extent 
 happy, though it was in a feverish uncer- 
 tain sort of way. When Basil was invited, 
 as he frequently was, to the parties in the 
 town and neighbourhood, he and Agnes 
 could only enjoy brief snatches of the joy
 
 basil's bride. 65 
 
 of being together ; yet if it were but for 
 one dance, or to sit by eacli otlier at din- 
 ner or supper, it was for the time being a 
 perfect Paradise of enjoyment — none the 
 less so, perhaps, for its having something 
 of the taste of '' forbidden fruit " in it. 
 
 Everything must come to an end, and 
 so did, at last, those days of uncertain, 
 restless enjoyment. Christmas came and 
 went, and the new year dawned. With 
 what hopes and fears did it open to Agnes 
 and her young lover ! To the elder one 
 with what pleasing visions of successful 
 love in a happy future ! 
 
 There was one person, however, in that 
 narrow circle to whom time, as it ad- 
 vanced, did not appear to bring pleasure 
 on its wing^ That solitary individual 
 was Mr. Nesbit. There might have been 
 various causes for the good merchant's 
 evident uneasiness ; there was no disguis- 
 ing the fact that he began to look care- 
 worn and anxious. Perhaps he was griev- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 Mils, geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 ing over the coming separation between 
 himself and his one loving daughter, 
 which he had himself so eagerly planned, or 
 it might be that he began to have suspi- 
 cions as to the state of his child's affec- 
 tions, and therefore he was anticipating 
 the failure of his cherished hopes from 
 want of ability to enforce them. It might 
 be so, but certain it is that about that 
 time doubtful rumours began to be circu- 
 lated in the town, no one knew how or 
 why, as to the stability of all Mr. Nes- 
 bit's mercantile proceedings. Some said 
 he had embarked in too many ventures 
 to be safe, and that he had never 
 had the capital to trade upon — that was 
 reported. Then people declared that no 
 doubt there were certain reasons which 
 had induced Mr. Nesbit so vehemently to 
 favour the suit of a man old enough to be 
 his daughter's father, and that Mr. Vava- 
 sour's wealth might possibly be useful to 
 prop his failing credit ; but I need not re-
 
 basil's bride. 67 
 
 peat half of the whispers and surmises 
 which suddenly rose in respect to Mr. 
 Nesbit's mercantile prosperity. 
 
 One thing, however, is certain that, one 
 cold, dismal-looking morning towards the 
 end of January, Basil Egerton was sum- 
 moned to a private conference with Mr. 
 Nesbit. He went to the merchant's pri- 
 vate room, fally believing that the hour of 
 doom had arrived. His heart was beating 
 high with the hope that his love might 
 now be confessed, and that, however un- 
 willing the rich man might be to confer 
 such a prize as Agnes upon him in prefer- 
 ence to her wealthy suitor, he would 
 now, when once Mr. Nesbit knew the real 
 state of his child's affections, and the un- 
 fathomable depth of the love that she 
 had inspired, incline favourably towards 
 them. He had made up his mind, as he 
 walked towards the room, to be very 
 moderate in his demands, and only crave 
 permission to work his way to such inde- 
 
 f2
 
 68 MES. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 peudence as miglit entitle him afterwards 
 to ask the coveted boon of that daughter's 
 hand when he should have achieved such 
 success in the world as to deserve it. 
 
 The young man, with all these hopes 
 (and not without some fears) in his honest 
 heart, and almost legible on his candid 
 countenance, stood before the man who 
 held, as it were, his destiny in his hand. 
 Basil waited respectfully for his superior 
 to speak first. 
 
 There was a slight pause, and then Mr. 
 Nesbit drew a foreign-looking letter to- 
 wards him, and began to talk to his clerk 
 on a matter almost as foreign to his 
 thoughts and expectations. At first Basil 
 could hardly follow the drift of the conver- 
 sation for astonishment, and the pre-occu- 
 pation of his mind. But he gradually woke 
 up to the understanding that Mr. Nesbit 
 was speaking to him of the failure of a 
 large house at Lyons, with which he had 
 for many years had considerable mercantile
 
 basil's beide. 69 
 
 dealings, and without following his dis- 
 course more closely, he found that Mr. 
 Nesbit, who knew him to be a fair linguist, 
 was offering him a post of trust and confi- 
 dence, for which he would afterwards give 
 him the necessary instructions, which he 
 was to remain at Lyons to see effectually 
 carried out. 
 
 There was, of course, no refusing the 
 task which was entrusted to him. In what 
 spirit it was positively conferred Basil 
 could hardly tell — however, it had on the 
 surface an appearance of trust that flattered 
 him, though afterwards, in the hurry of 
 thought which preceded his departure, and 
 in the confusion which reigned in his 
 mind, Basil was dimly conscious of a sense 
 of injury. Somethiri^ whispered to him 
 that he was being got out of the way for a 
 time, but at whose suggestion there was 
 nothing to point out. 
 
 The time of preparation was very short, 
 and he had everything to learn as to the
 
 70 MES. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 details of the business he was sent to carry 
 out. All these minute particulars were 
 communicated to him by the head manager 
 of Mr. ISTesbit's house of business, and the 
 good man was pleased to express himself 
 much satisfied by the quickness and .clear- 
 ness of young Egerton's perceptions on the 
 occasion, and he gave it as his unbiassed 
 opinion that Mr. Nesbit could nowhere 
 have selected a more competent person to 
 conduct the affair than Mr. Basil Egerton. 
 Basil was therefore obligred to silence 
 the tormenting voice within, and apply 
 himself heart and soul to the mission on 
 which he was bound. But before he went 
 he was determined to have one parting in- 
 terview with Agnes. He hoped and ex- 
 pected to get back in a short time, but he 
 must meanwhile be prepared for any con- 
 tingency that might arise, and, above all, 
 he must be ready to carry out his darling's 
 wishes, whatever should happen.
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 i LTHOUGH Basil and Agnes were in 
 -^^ the habit of meeting every day, it 
 was always in the presence of others, and it 
 was by no means easy to secure the private 
 interview on which Basil had set his heart. 
 However, Fate, or their good (or evil) 
 genius, favoured them in this matter. A 
 few days before Basil started on his ex- 
 pedition, he went over to his uncle's place 
 to tell them of his hasty departure, and 
 also of his whereabouts when in France, 
 and returning rather early, found Mr. Nes- 
 bit and Fanny, as well as Mr. Vavasour, 
 gone out to dinner. Agnes had been com- 
 plaining for some days of a bad cold, and 
 made that the excuse for remaining at
 
 72 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 home. She had been in great distress from 
 the time when she first heard of Basil's in- 
 tended departure, and I think she found a 
 bad cold a good excuse for heavy eyes, 
 pallid cheeks, and general languor of de- 
 portment. 
 
 She felt that the crisis of her fate was 
 approaching, and dreaded the time when 
 Basil would be absent, and she should be 
 left alone to endure the attentions of her 
 would-be lover. It was therefore infinite 
 relief to her mind to have a short time of 
 ■uninterrupted talk with Basil, to enjoy 
 the rare delight of being alone together, 
 to lay their hearts open to each other, and 
 to make their little plans for the future. 
 
 Agnes was extremely depressed that 
 evening, though she took comfort in the 
 reassuring presence of her lover, who tried 
 to place all things in the most cheering 
 and favourable point of view. Basil said 
 nothing of his own misgivings as to the 
 possible reason of his being sent away just
 
 basil's bride. 73 
 
 then ; he only dwelt on the honour con- 
 ferred on him by the commission entrusted 
 to his care, spoke hopefully of his speedy 
 return, and still more so of the happy future 
 which lay before them, whether it came a 
 little sooner or later. 
 
 Poor Agnes, though tearful and de- 
 pressed, yet felt soothed and strengthened 
 as she sat with her head on Basil's shoul- 
 der, his strong arm round her slender 
 waist, and her hand resting in his firm 
 and tender clasp. 
 
 " You will come back the very instant 
 you have concluded all that horrible busi- 
 ness," was the burden of Agnes's discourse. 
 
 " Trust me, my darling ; and when I 
 return, I hope I shall find your friend 
 gone." 
 
 " My friend, Basil ! — papa's friend, you 
 mean. I always look upon, and treat him, 
 and talk to him as such ; and really at 
 times I begin to hope that he will not ask 
 for anything more — that he will see the
 
 74 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 utter and entire impossibility of my ever 
 looking upon him in any other light, and 
 will spare himself the mortification of any 
 further explanation." 
 
 " Ah ! dearest," replied Basil, " it may 
 not be quite so easy to give up all hope of 
 gaining your love as you may think." 
 
 " But you know quite well, Basil, that it 
 can never, never be anyone's but yours." 
 
 '' I hope so indeed, and if I exist to all 
 eternity, I shall never, never love anyone 
 but you, Agnes. No one on earth but my 
 Agnes shall ever be her ' Basil's bride.' " 
 
 Agnes half smiled through her tears, 
 and unwittingly shook her pretty head, as 
 if the idea was too entrancing ever to be 
 realised. Basil was sitting by the table, 
 resting his right arm on it, whilst his 
 left embraced Agnes, who was nearest the 
 fire. In an idle whim Basil took up a pen 
 that, with paper and ink, lay at his elbow, 
 and quickly wrote on the paper the last 
 words he had spoken, adding to them,
 
 basil's bride. 75 
 
 " And this I solemnly swear." He then 
 handed the paper to Agnes, who put it to 
 her lips, saying, 
 
 "And will you never repent, dear?" 
 
 Basil only replied : 
 
 '' Never, so heaven help me !" 
 
 Then said Agnes, 
 
 " Would you like me to write the same 
 for you to keep, Basil ?" 
 
 He answered, 
 
 '* No, dearest, I do not need it ; you 
 shall never be bound by me. Your dear 
 love is a free and most precious gift, and I 
 feel and know that I have it." 
 
 "I feel the same, Basil, and yet I am 
 so much weaker and more foolish than 
 you, that this dear little bit of paper will 
 be my daily comfort and support. Oh ! 
 Basil, when you are far away, I shall read 
 it over and over again, and feel that you 
 are thinking of me also." 
 
 '' But I wish to give another little re- 
 membrance of me, which you must prom*
 
 76 MES. geet's eeaiiniscences. 
 
 ise to wear on your finger till the time 
 comes wlien I shall place another there." 
 
 Then Basil drew out a ring, which he 
 told Agnes had been his mother's bridal 
 gift from his father, and was very precious 
 to him, besides being valuable in itself. 
 It was a broad gold hoop ring, set with 
 alternate diamonds and emeralds, and in- 
 side the ring was engraved his mother's 
 maiden name, and the date of her marriage 
 to his father. 
 
 Agnes at first demurred a little at re- 
 ceiving (or, as she said, "taking") from 
 her lover what must be such a precious 
 relic to him. Basil only pressed the ring 
 upon her finger, saying quietly, — 
 
 " Take it, dearest, and wear it for my 
 sake ; it is the only valuable I possess in 
 the world, and you are dearer to me now 
 and ever than anything else in the world, 
 so it is right and fit that you should pos- 
 sess it. Besides, you must do as I wish." 
 
 AQ:nes lauo^hed at his little air of au-
 
 basil's bride. 77 
 
 thoritj, for slie was beginning to feel al- 
 most bappy under the genial influence of 
 Basil's presence and his loving words. So 
 the time slipped away, till, to their mutual 
 surprise, they heard the carriage stop at 
 the door, and the loud ring which an- 
 nounced the return of the diners out. 
 Agnes had only time to run upstairs to her 
 own room, whilst Basil remained quietly 
 seated with a book in his hand, await- 
 ing the entrance of Mr. N'esbit and his 
 niece. 
 
 Fanny glanced somewhat suspiciously 
 round the room, as if she suspected that 
 Agnes was somewhere concealed, but was 
 re-assured by Basil's look of cool self-posses- 
 sion whilst he asked her some trifling ques- 
 tions respecting the party to which she had 
 been. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit stood on the hearth-ru2: 
 warming himself at the fire, with an ab- 
 stracted and somewhat gloomy counten- 
 ance ; at last, interrupting Fanny rather
 
 78 MRS. geey's eeminisoences. 
 
 impatiently, as she was in the middle of a 
 little story, he said, 
 
 " There, there, my dear, that will do for 
 the present. You can tell the rest of it to- 
 morrow. Mr. Egerton and I have some- 
 thing more important to talk about than 
 all that nonsense." 
 
 Fanny was all amiability to her uncle, 
 and only replied, 
 
 " Oh I to be sure, uncle. I ought to 
 have thought of that, onty as Mr. Egerton 
 was not there, I fancied he would like to 
 know how much the Miss Timms regretted 
 his absence." 
 
 And then Fanny, with a gracious good 
 night to both gentlemen, took up her 
 candle and w^ent up to bed. She stopped 
 at Agnes's room, tapped at her door, and 
 would have gone in, but there was no re- 
 sponse, and when she gently tried to turn the 
 handle she found the door was locked on the 
 other side. ,So she had to content herself 
 with a whispered " Good night, Agnes," and
 
 basil's bride. 79 
 
 a further whisper to herself, as she walked 
 away, " I wonder if she is asleep, or only 
 shammino'? and I wonder whether she 
 has been downstairs at all this evening? 
 and I wonder when he came home? but I 
 do not like to ask. Perhaps I shall find 
 out somehow or other." 
 
 But I do not think she ever did find out, 
 for Agnes was on her guard, and so was 
 Basil, and the day after the next he took 
 his leave for Lyons. 
 
 The calm that followed Basil's departure 
 was something like the treacherous tran- 
 quillity that often precedes the outbreak of 
 a storm. It was about the second week 
 in February when Basil left Castleford, 
 and the weather was cold, dark, and dull. 
 Mr. ISTesbit especially seemed to feel the 
 adverse influence of the murky atmosphere, 
 and Agnes continued to complain of the 
 cold that had done her such good service 
 for some time past. Fanny was perplexed 
 and rather cast down, but the most lively
 
 80 MRS. gkey's reminiscences. 
 
 of tlie family party. Mr. Vavasour, was 
 the only really cheerful person at that time 
 in the small circle that daily met at Mr. 
 Nesbit's hospitable table. There were oc- 
 casional guests invited to vary the home 
 scene, but neither Mr. Nesbit nor his daus^h- 
 ter appeared equal to the task of much 
 entertaining. Everybody said, seeing how 
 dejected they appeared, what a sad thing 
 it was that such an affectionate father and 
 daughter should be separated — it was evi- 
 dent how much they both dreaded it. 
 
 After Basil had been gone a few weeks, 
 Mr. Vavasour, seeing a favourable oppor- 
 tunity when alone with Agnes, spoke out 
 at last. All that he said was very much to 
 the point, it proved the depth of his love, 
 and his patience in waiting for a return. 
 
 He told Ao:nes he still feared she miofht 
 have hardly regarded him in the light he 
 desired, and he would not have urofed his 
 suit so soon, only he was to return to India 
 in April, and he had her father's permission
 
 basil's beide. 81 
 
 to entreat her to accompany him there as his 
 wife. He said a great deal more, for having 
 said nothing to Agnes of the love that was 
 in his heart during the time of his silent 
 wooing, there appeared fco be no end to all 
 he had to tell her on the subject when once 
 he had begun to speak. 
 
 Agnes never interrupted him; but she gave 
 him no encouragement by word or look to 
 proceed. She felt surprised at the warmth 
 of the affection she had so unintentionally 
 inspired ; but though she knew she ought 
 to feel obliged at the compliment paid her 
 by such a man as Mr. Vavasour, she felt, 
 at the same time, half indignant. She sat 
 with her hands pressed together, only 
 feeling the ring that Basil had placed there, 
 and gathering up her strength to crush the 
 hopes which she felt sure rose so high in 
 her ardent suitor's heart. 
 
 As she sat thus silent and abstracted, 
 with bent head and quivering lips, Mr. 
 Yavasour paused for a moment ; he began 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 to fancy slie was displeased at ttie long 
 silence he had observed towards herself, 
 and hastened, after a short pause, to ex- 
 onerate himself from any idea of lukewarm- 
 ness in the part he had thought best to 
 adopt ; he told her, having her father's full 
 and glad consent to his suit, he went a 
 more leisurely way to gain hers. She was 
 so young, so lovely, so innocent, he thought 
 it best to accustom her to his devotion, 
 though unexpressed, before she should be 
 drawn into anything like an engagement. 
 Then, he continued, he wished her to un- 
 derstand him thoroughly, to see him just 
 as he was, and without any of the prestige 
 which surrounded him in India. He talked 
 before her of all that interested him, in the 
 hope that she, too, might find a lively inte- 
 rest in the same subjects and pursuits, and 
 as he was informed by her father her heart 
 was still untouched, he trusted to make 
 such a gradual impression on it as might
 
 basil's beide. 83 
 
 influence lier to bestow the inestimable 
 treasure on himself. 
 
 But it is needless to pursue the tenor 
 of Mr. Vavasour's discourse any further. 
 Enough has been said to explain the 
 substance and the manner of it, and the 
 nature of the task imposed on Agnes, 
 when bent on rejecting him, and all he had 
 to bestow. However, refuse him and all 
 his offers she did, and that with rather 
 scant ceremony. Her heart was full to 
 overflowing with love for her young and 
 handsome absent lover, so she had but 
 little compassion for the prosaic, precise, 
 middle-aged man who strove, in plain 
 matter-of-fact language, to impress upon 
 her mind the extent of his love and all 
 the many advantages included therein. 
 
 Mr. Vavasour, on Agnes's quiet declara- 
 tion that she could never love him as he 
 desired, and that she had always looked 
 upon him only in the light of her father's 
 
 g2
 
 84 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 friend; seemed at first almost bewildered, 
 and as if it were more than his understand- 
 ing could receive. He almost gasped for 
 breath as he exclaimed — 
 
 " But surely, Miss Nesbit, you must have 
 guessed my intentions when I asked your 
 permission to visit here ? I knew nothing 
 of your father, and it was only as your 
 friend I came to this house, and hoping to 
 be received as such." 
 
 Agnes only looked wearied at his impor- 
 tunity, and briefly observed she was sorry 
 if she had misunderstood him ; but it did 
 not appear incumbent on her to refuse the 
 visit of a friend or an acquaintance, for 
 fear he should become a lover. After 
 Agnes had made that little speech, she 
 seemed to consider it decisive, and rose 
 quietly, and without another word left the 
 room. 
 
 She found Fanny waiting for her on the 
 landing between their respective rooms, and 
 *the former, rushing up to Agnes, seized both
 
 basil's bride. 85 
 
 her hands, and kissing her effusively, said 
 she hoped she might congratulate her, and 
 her uncle too, on the fulfilment of all his 
 wishes, and the prospect of such happiness 
 and prosperity as awaited her on becoming 
 the wife of Mr. Vavasour. 
 
 Till that moment Agnes had never 
 thought of her father, or taken his wishes 
 into consideration, and a sudden chill fell 
 ■upon her heart, which had just begun to 
 rejoice in the sense of having got through 
 a very unpleasant affair with as little pain 
 and trouble as possible. She also indulged 
 in the hope that, now she had spoken, Mr. 
 Vavasour would quietly take his departure, 
 and she should neither see nor hear any- 
 thing more of him, and would then only 
 have to count the days till her Basil's re- 
 turn ; and after that Farther than 
 
 that she could not see into the future ; all 
 she asked was Mr. Vavasour's departure 
 and Basil's return as soon as possible. 
 
 Agnes caught her hands away from her
 
 86 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 cousin s detaining grasp, and with an irri- 
 tability quite new to her, begged she would 
 mind her own affairs, and leave her to take 
 care of her own ; and as for Mr. Vavasour, 
 the only thing she wished about him was 
 that she might never see his face or hear 
 his voice again. Fanny, quite astonished, 
 lifted her hands in surprise and depreca- 
 tion at this outbreak from her usually quiet, 
 gentle cousin. She then recoiled a step 
 or two, applied her handkerchief to her 
 tearless eyes, and declared that '' dear 
 Agnes was so altered no one could know 
 her for the same person she was when she 
 first came to live with her." These re- 
 proaches, whether deserved or not, had 
 only the effect of irritating Agnes's natu- 
 rally tender nature ; but the worst part of 
 that unlucky day was still to come. 
 
 Mr. Nesbit sent for his daughter after 
 Mr. Vavasour had communicated to him 
 the unfortunate result of his interview 
 with Agnes. It was rather an awful sum-
 
 basil's BEIDE. 87 
 
 inon& to be sent for into Mr. Nesbit's pri- 
 vate room. But hitherto Agnes had never 
 known what it was to fear in the presence 
 of her fond father. He had been so in- 
 dulgently kind to her that the voice of dis- 
 pleasure, as directed against herself, had 
 never yet fallen on her ear. Why should 
 she then be conscious of such a trembling 
 in her limbs, and sinking at her heart, 
 when, towards the evening, the unwelcome 
 summons was brought to her? However, 
 there was nothing to be done but to obey. 
 In a few minutes Agnes stood before her 
 father.
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER VI. * 
 
 II /TE. NESBIT was sitting at his writing- 
 ^^ table with paper before hira, and a 
 pen in his hand ; he seemed to be putting 
 down figures, and was so deeply engrossed 
 in his employment that he did not look up, 
 even when his daughter came and stood 
 close beside him. At length Agnes said, 
 
 " You sent for me, papa ?" 
 
 "Yes, I know. Sit down." 
 
 Agnes obeyed, and after a little time 
 Mr. Nesbit laid down his pen with a weary 
 sigh, and then looked up at his daughter — 
 and fixed an inquiring gaze on her face, as 
 if trying to penetrate beneath the surface 
 of that assumed calm which rested on her 
 countenance. Agnes met the look with
 
 basil's bride. 89 
 
 something of an impatient turn botli of 
 her head and of her whole j)erson — it 
 seemed to say, 
 
 " Say what you please. I am prepared 
 for the worst." 
 
 Then Mr. Nesbit spoke slowly and with 
 an effort. 
 
 '' Is it true what I hear, that you have 
 refused Mr. Vavasour's most eligible and 
 desirable offer of marriage ? Or is it, as 
 I am inclined to hope, a mere freak of girl- 
 ish folly and indecision ?" 
 
 There was something so new to Agnes 
 in the cold tone of her father's voice, and 
 his mode of speaking to her, that she felt 
 a great lump come swelling into her 
 throat, and her eyes filled quickly with 
 tears, as she said, 
 
 " Dear papa, you are not angry with me 
 because I cannot love Mr. Vavasour, and 
 would a thousand times rather remain 
 with you here than go with him to India ?" 
 
 " But if it is for your good, and mine
 
 90 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 too, that you sliould accept the offer Mr. 
 Vavasour makes you, and of which any 
 girl might be proud, do not you think you 
 ought to put your childish objections 
 aside, and do what he asks, and, I may add, 
 that I wish also ?" 
 
 " Oh ! papa, you can never wish to send 
 me away — and it would break my heart to 
 go ; besides, I could never care for Mr. 
 Vavasour, so please, papa, say no more 
 about it. I have given Mr. Vavasour his 
 answer." 
 
 And then Agnes drew near to her father, 
 and put her arms round his neck and be- 
 gan to caress him as she was so often in 
 the habit of doing. But in his present 
 mood these caresses only seemed to annoy 
 and irritate Mr. Nesbit; he drew away 
 from his daughter s arm, turned his face 
 from her kiss, and exclaimed, in an im- 
 patient tone, 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it is easy to ^ say no more 
 about it ;' and you have given your answer.
 
 basil's bride. 91 
 
 and a very fine answer no doubt it was ! 
 Yes, you are like the rest of the world, 
 ready to follow your own way, and do your 
 own pleasure, never regarding the feelings 
 or wishes of those to whom you owe every- 
 thing — only intent on your own self-gratifi- 
 cation ! And this is the end of all your 
 boasted filial affection ! — this is the rich 
 reward I am to reap from my dutiful 
 daughter ! After having spent all my life 
 in consulting her ease and gratification, 
 toiling night and day to heap up riches for 
 her benefit, the very first time I ask her to 
 do something — and that something greatly 
 to her own advantage — to please and bene- 
 fit me, she turns round and bids me hold 
 my tongue, for she has settled the whole 
 matter — a pretty daughter I have got, in- 
 deed !" 
 
 By this time Agnes was kneeling at her 
 father's feet, and sobbing as if her heart 
 would break, and crying, 
 
 " Oh, say no more. I cannot love Mr*
 
 92 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 Vavasour, and I liate him now for coming 
 between us, and making you so angry with 
 your own poor little Agnes, that you have 
 loved and petted all the days of her life 
 before, and who loves you so dearly." 
 
 Mr. Nesbit turned hastily round to his 
 daughter, and looking her full in the face, 
 said, 
 
 '^ Yes, talking is easy enough, but when 
 it comes to action, it is quite another 
 thing." 
 
 " But surely you would not wish me to 
 marry a man I do not love ?" 
 
 " How the girl prates about love !" ex- 
 claimed the merchant, testily, as he con- 
 tinued — " What do you know about love ? 
 Did not you invite Vavasour here your- 
 self ? It was all your own doing ; 1 never 
 asked him to come, or brought him here to 
 dance attendance on you as he has done, 
 till you have made yourself the talk of the 
 town, and if you now refuse to marry him, 
 I say you will have behaved to him like a
 
 basil's bride. 93 
 
 heartless coquette, and I am ashamed of 
 jou." 
 
 " Oh, stop, papa — prav stop !" said poor 
 Agnes, crying bitterly. " You are very 
 unkind and unjust to me for the first time 
 in my life, and I cannot bear it." 
 
 *^ No more can I," replied her father, 
 " so you had better go to your own room 
 and think the matter over, like a sensible, 
 rational girl, if you wish me to have any 
 comfort or pride in you again. There, go 
 along now, for I have enough to do and 
 think about, and your folly and obstinacy 
 only tend to sicken and distract me — there, 
 go away !" 
 
 Thus dismissed, Agnes went away, 
 weeping bitterly. She passed her cousin 
 on the stairs, and so near her father's 
 room that it is not impossible that some 
 part of her uncle's angry speeches might 
 have caught Fanny's ear. Agnes, how- 
 ever, swept past her, and gaining her own 
 room, threw herself on her bed in a per-
 
 94 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 feet agony of distress, mingled with indig- 
 nation at tlie reproaches cast upon her, 
 whilst she felt unbounded anger against 
 Mr. Yavasour as the cause of all this 
 strange misery and misunderstanding be- 
 tween herself and her father. Oh ! what 
 would she not have given for the merest 
 glimpse of Basil's beloved and comforting 
 countenance ! She could have clung to 
 him, and with him openly braved still 
 fiercer anger for the great love she bore 
 him. She had, however, no one to turn 
 to ; she instinctively felt that her cousin 
 Fanny was not her true friend on the oc- 
 casion. After a time, she did indeed come 
 to me as a friend both of Basil Egerton 
 and herself, and from her lips I heard all 
 that I have now set down. But I was 
 powerless to help her in any way. Nothing 
 would have induced me to become the 
 medium of a clandestine correspondence 
 between herself and her lover, and she 
 liad no means of communicatino- with him
 
 basil's betde. 95 
 
 herself. All letters for their house came 
 in Mr. Nesbit's post-bag, and were by him 
 distributed to the family ; neither do I 
 think that either she or Basil anticipated 
 any necessity for writing during their brief 
 separation, doubtless hoping nothing un- 
 foreseen would occur to render such a step 
 necessary. 
 
 The wretched days passed on. Mr. Nesbit 
 became more gloomy, more irritable, and 
 still Mr. Vavasour stayed on in Castleford. 
 Occasionally Mr. ISTesbit insisted on his 
 dining with him, and then nothing could 
 be more unexceptionable than his conduct. 
 He met Agnes with kindness, but without 
 any loverlike pretensions, and seemed 
 ready to subside into the friendly position 
 that Agnes had once assigned to him. She 
 even began to feel that the evenings were 
 more endurable when Mr. A^avasour was 
 present than when alone with her father 
 and Fanny. She longed incessantly for 
 Basil's return, but dared not ask, or show
 
 96 MES. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 her anxiety — fearing slie was already open 
 to suspicion. Fanny ventured one day to 
 put the question to her uncle, saying, 
 
 " We all seem to miss Mr. Egerton, he 
 is so cheerful and pleasant. I suppose he 
 will be coming back soon ?" 
 
 As the guarded question was put, Agnes 
 was sensible of a flutter at her heart, and a 
 confusion of ideas that almost stopped her 
 hearing as well as her breath ; she grew 
 cold and white, but happily was prevented 
 from fainting by the fact that she was re- 
 clining on the sofa, and felt safe amongst 
 its ample cushions. She was, however, 
 aware that her father darted an inquiring 
 glance towards her, and also that the same 
 look travelled round slowly, till it met the 
 gaze of Mr. Yavasour, then rested on 
 Fanny's face, as he made answer — 
 
 '' So you are beginning to pine for the 
 young man's company. Miss Fan ! Well, 
 you must have a little patience, for you will 
 not see him yet awhile. The business he
 
 basil's BKIDE. 97 
 
 went out upon is mucli more intricate and 
 difficult than was at first apprehended ; he 
 has left Lyons already, but 1 cannot tell 
 you exactly where he is now, as there are 
 several places he will have to visit in the 
 course of business, and he hardly knows 
 till he gets to one place where he shall 
 have to go next." 
 
 ''Dear me," said Fanny, composedly, 
 " what a traveller Mr. Basil will be before 
 he comes back, and it seems that will not 
 be yet awhile." 
 
 "I should think not," said her uncle, 
 shortly; and then, looking towards his 
 daughter, but still speaking to Fanny, he 
 said, "A good deal depends upon how Mr. 
 Basil Egerton acquits himself in this pre- 
 sent matter ; if he does well, I am ready 
 to promote his views and his interest in 
 life, but if I find him tampering with my 
 concerns, or playing an underhand part in 
 any respect, let him look to the conse- 
 quences ! They will be such as neither he 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 MKS. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 nor any of bis fair friends can anticipate or 
 desire." 
 
 Fanny saw and felt there was much be- 
 neath the surface in this speech, and was 
 sure her uncle had some suspicions that 
 either she or Agnes had some undue regard 
 for the young dependant man, possibly to 
 the prejudice of Mr. Yavasour. As for 
 Agnes, she felt as if her cup of misery was 
 running over, and she could bear no more. 
 She was dimly conscious that her father 
 suspected her and Basil, and that he would 
 manage to keep them always apart, and if 
 Basil made the slightest step towards her, 
 her father would, in some mysterious way, 
 use the power of which he boasted to in- 
 jure him in every possible' way. 
 
 Worse things, however, were in store for 
 the Nesbit family. The mercantile storm 
 Mr. Nesbit had long been endeavouring to 
 avert broke over his house in a very sud- 
 den and unexpected manner. But with 
 positive ruin staring him in the face, he
 
 basil's brtde. 99 
 
 became kinder and 2:entler ao^ain to bis 
 cliild. It Tvas in tlie suspense that bad been 
 torturing bim to sucb an extent tb&^t all bis 
 feelings bad seemed turned to gall. 
 
 It was tben tbat Mr. Yavasour came 
 forward in the kindest and most liberal 
 way witb offers of belp. He put off bis 
 return to India, and exerted bimself in 
 the most generous manner to uphold the 
 credit of the falling^ man. He did not, 
 however, at tbat time ask for the reward 
 which be craved as earnestly as ever. 
 
 Poor Agnes lived in a tempest of conflict- 
 ing feelings and interests. Her father, now 
 that the crisis was over, returned to bis 
 former kind ways. He seemed as if anxious 
 to make amends for his past harshness, 
 and spoke feelingly, as if appealing to 
 her pity and tenderness, in telling her that 
 his trouble of mind at one time was so 
 great that be even contemplated self-de- 
 struction, and that he tben believed the 
 only possible step to avoid the evil he 
 
 h2
 
 100 MES. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 dreaded lay in gaining her consent to 
 marry Mr. Yavasour. He further declared 
 with tears that he had no idea of the possi- 
 bility of such unbounded generosity and dis- 
 interested kindness as he had since received 
 from Mr.Yavasour ; for although that gen- 
 tleman had relinquished the hope of gain- 
 in of her for his wife, he had shown the same 
 desire to serve her father. 
 
 Agnes saw and felt that this was very 
 true. The dread of bankruptcy, which 
 had crushed her father to the earth, was 
 removed by the timely help of Mr.Yava- 
 sour ; and yet more, he sought and claimed 
 no other reward than the satisfaction of 
 helping his friend. Mr. Nesbit declared, 
 althouofh he could now devote all his ener- 
 gies to the repayment of the pecuniary 
 part of his debt, and hoped to do so, yet 
 the larger and heavier part of his obliga- 
 tion must remain for ever unliquidated. 
 
 During this period of extreme worry 
 and excitement, Agnes had been in great
 
 basil's bride. 101 
 
 measure lifted out of the contemplation of 
 her own individual cares and troubles ; 
 her old love to her father had rushed back 
 in full force when she saw him in trouble 
 and sorrow, whilst she was aware that the 
 impending dread of bankruptcy was most 
 terrible to his imagination, and that he 
 had looked to her in vain to help him out 
 of the depths of his distress. How could 
 she do otherwise than feel unbounded 
 gratitude to the generous friend who, in 
 spite of her rejection, had done all that 
 friendship could devise for his relief? 
 
 AlthouQ^h Agnes's heart was steeled 
 against reproaches and displeasure, it 
 melted under the genial influences of ten- 
 derness and magnanimity. Mr. Nesbit's 
 health had become shaken from the intense 
 trouble of his mind, and all his daughter's 
 care then was to nurse him in illness, and 
 watch his slow recovery. 
 
 Fanny was everything that could be 
 desired at that time — cheerful and helpful,
 
 102 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 devoted to her uncle, and amiable to her 
 cousin. Mr. Vavasour found in her a 
 very faithful ally, quite ready, and more 
 than willing, to seize every favourable op- 
 portunity of setting forth his virtues in 
 their most shining light in her cousin's 
 eyes, and singing his praises, if not directly 
 to Agnes, yet in her hearing. 
 
 The time rapidly approached for Mr. 
 Vavasour's departure. Basil was still ab- 
 sent. Mr. Nesbit found in him a most use- 
 ful foreign agent (as he was a good linguist),, 
 and his time was fully employed in execut- 
 ing the business that was entrusted to him. 
 He had not received any letter or message 
 from Aofnes all the time, and he felt there 
 was no use in his writing, as his letters 
 might never reach her. Report had told 
 him, throuofh some Castleford friend, that 
 Miss Nesbit had refused Mr. Vavasour. 
 He fully believed this rumour, and while 
 cheerfully working his way to independence, 
 was contented to bide his time.
 
 basil's bride. 103 
 
 Soon after that time came a startling 
 piece of intelligence to my ears. I could 
 not believe it. But this report said that 
 Mr. Yavasour was going to marry Miss 
 Nesbit, and take her back with him to India ! 
 I then beo'an to think that he must have 
 changed the object of his devotion, and 
 fixed his affections on Fanny Nesbit instead 
 of her more charming cousin. A thousand 
 little trifles hght as air then recurred to 
 my recollection in confirmation of this new 
 idea, and 1 waited impatiently to hear more, 
 if, indeed, the whole rumour was not, as 
 often happens, an idle tale. 
 
 That very afternoon Agnes came to see 
 me. Her face was pale, and the expression 
 unusually set and determined. She came 
 in and kissed me- — then said, in a low voice, 
 
 ^' I came to tell you myself. You may 
 have heard something of it, but I wished 
 to let you know. I have consented to 
 marry Mr. Yavasour, and I go with him 
 next month to India."
 
 104 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 She looked in my face to see the impres- 
 sion made by her communication, and I 
 suppose read there my unfeigned blank 
 astonishment. I really could not speak, 
 and she continued — 
 
 '' Yes, it is quite true. I have nothing 
 to tell you about it, or how it has hap- 
 pened. He deserved it at my hands. He 
 has saved my poor father's life and credit, 
 and would have gone away without hope 
 or reward." 
 
 Agnes pressed her hand to her forehead 
 and said, as I wished her all happiness, 
 
 " I do not look for happiness. I only 
 wish to do what is right. Only please tell 
 him — Basil, I mean — that I could not help 
 myself. I shall be gone before he returns, 
 but do not let him think I forgot him."
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TT was all true, tbeb, and Agnes was 
 -* false — in appearance at least — to her 
 love ! Poor girl, slie must have been sorely 
 tried before she had resolved on the step 
 she was about to take. She would not 
 enter into any discussion on the subject. 
 She only wished T should know her marriage 
 was resolved on, and thus be spared all 
 inquiry, and, if possible, all comment. 
 
 Her consent having once been given, 
 there was no further delay than was neces- 
 sary to prepare Agnes's wedding outfit for 
 India. I believe she was very passive on 
 the occasion. But there was not much 
 need for her to trouble or exert her- 
 self ; all that money could do or pur-
 
 106 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 chase was at liers and her father's com- 
 mand. Mr. Yavasour, throughout that try- 
 ing time, was everything that could be de- 
 sired, and his great love for his bride was 
 only evinced in the quietest and most deli- 
 cate manner. I really think Mr. Nesbit 
 felt the parting with his son-in-law almost 
 as much as losing his daughter. Only one 
 request was made by Agnes, and that was 
 that the wedding should be entirely private, 
 and confined to .their own family circle. 
 
 Thus, when the important day came, 
 Agnes was ouly attended by Fanny as her 
 sole bridesmaid, whilst her father gave her 
 away, and old Captain Allen acted as best 
 man to the bridegroom. The newly-mar- 
 ried pair left at the church door for South- 
 ampton, and Oastleford saw them no more. 
 It was not a melancholy parting at that 
 time, as Mr. Nesbit and Fanny were to 
 visit Mr. and Mrs. Yavasour at Southamp- 
 ton in the course of a week or ten days, 
 and remain with them till they embarked.
 
 basil's bside. 107 
 
 Everything was carried out as arranged, 
 and the wedding, the visit afterwards, and 
 the final parting duly accomplished without 
 let or hindrance ; and then Mr. Nesbit and 
 his niece returned to the solitary house, 
 and he bes^an to realise his loss. I need 
 not dwell upon that time, though everyone 
 observed that Mr. TsTesbit was an altered 
 man since the panic in his affairs and de- 
 parture of his daughter. The thing he 
 had so greatly longed for, and had realized, 
 did not appear to bring him the ease and 
 comfort he expected. He toiled on at his 
 business affairs, and became almost miserly 
 in his vain efforts to heap up riches, and 
 to regain his credit as a wealthy man. 
 
 Fanny grumbled amongst her intimates 
 at her uncle's increasing parsimony and 
 love of mone3^ She declared all her com- 
 forts were curtailed, and the luxuries to 
 which she had become accustomed were 
 utterly abolished. One great joy, how- 
 ever, remained to her, when, after a length-
 
 108 MES. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 ened period, Basil Egerton returned to 
 Castleford. He had been absent more 
 than a year, but looked ten years older 
 than he did when he left Mr. Nesbit's. 
 He was become graver, and altered in 
 every way, but in Fanny's eyes more fas- 
 cinating than ever. Her rejoicing was of 
 brief continuance, for Basil only came to 
 Castleford to give up his situation as Mr. 
 Nesbit's foreign agent. He had been in 
 his employment nearly three years, and at 
 the end of that time wished to relinquish 
 his post. He had the offer of an excellent 
 appointment abroad, and he had consented 
 to take it as soon as his connection with 
 Mr. N'esbit was dissolved. However, 
 Fanny felt, if she made the most of her 
 time then, it might lead to future and 
 more satisfactory relations with the man 
 she began to love with all her heart. 
 
 Basil Egerton came to see me soon after 
 his return, and to ask if there was any 
 message left by Agnes for him. He
 
 basil's bride. 109 
 
 seemed to understand the whole transac- 
 tion, and his only feelings for her were love 
 and intense pity. 
 
 " Poor darling ! how she must have suf- 
 fered !" was all the comment he made on 
 her pitiful little message ; and then, a 
 moment afterwards, he added — " May God 
 bless her for ever and ever, and may the 
 man who has taken my darling away from 
 me know how to value such an inestimable 
 treasure !" 
 
 Fanny at times tried to talk of her 
 cousin to him, but Basil never responded 
 to her efforts to become confidential ; he 
 was gentle and kind to the dependent girl, 
 but at the expiration of his time took leave 
 of her and Mr. Nesbit without a word of 
 hope as to their ever meeting again ; and 
 then he went to Marseilles, where his new 
 sphere of work was situated, and thus for 
 several years we saw no more of Basil 
 Egerton. 
 
 The accounts from India continued for
 
 110 MRS. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 a time most flourisliing, and Mr. j^esbit's 
 wliole soul seemed wrapt up in visions of 
 the grandeur and prosperity of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Vavasour. Agnes, when she wrote, 
 said but little of herself or her own feel- 
 ings ; but in a country where everything 
 was so new to her there was plenty of in- 
 teresting matter to write about, and Mr. 
 Yavasour supplied all deficiencies by the 
 long reports lie wrote concerning his wife, 
 and the admiration that followed her wher- 
 ever she appeared. 
 
 Poor Fanny read these accounts with ill- 
 concealed envy and jealousy. Her own life 
 was now so colourless, so full of little mean 
 troubles, and petty cares and economies, 
 that to read these glowing representations 
 of Oriental splendour and luxury was cer- 
 tainly rather tantalizing to a girl of Fanny's 
 nature and calibre. How yearningly she 
 longed to be a participator in all these be- 
 wildering scenes which surrounded her 
 cousin.
 
 basil's BEIDE. Ill 
 
 ' The time was far nearer than she could 
 have imagined. Two years after Agnes left 
 Castleford her father was taken very ill 
 again. He had never entirely regained 
 either his health or strength of mind or body 
 after his former illness. There is no oc- 
 casion to dwell upon the event that now 
 occurred. Mr. Nesbit rapidly declined, and 
 before the extent of his danger was realized 
 he died. Agnes had been apprised of his 
 illness, and was ready to go over to him 
 when she received the news of his death. 
 As soon as that intelligence reached Agnes 
 and her husband, they both, in the kindest 
 way, sent to Fanny a pressing invitation 
 to join them in India. It need not be said 
 that Fanny most gladly and eagerly obeyed 
 the summons, and having received every 
 necessary instruction, as well as a hand- 
 some remittance for an outfit, she lost no 
 time in making her preparations, and in 
 the course of a few months we heard of 
 her safe arrival in India.
 
 112 MRS. geet's eeminiscences. 
 
 At that time I heard occasionally^ from 
 Agnes- It was pleasant to keep the thread 
 of our old intercourse in some degree un- 
 broken, and it was from her that I heard of 
 Fanny's being settled with them, and sub- 
 sequently of her marriage with a young 
 officer in a native regiment. 
 
 Thus all the persons of my little history 
 passed from the scene of our daily exist- 
 ence, and were for a time lost to view. 
 The remaining chapters of their several 
 lives appeared to be closed to our inspec- 
 tion for ever. But it was not to be so, we 
 were destined to hear more yet of some of 
 our old friends. The first event of any 
 interest which occurred after the lapse of 
 a dozen years, was the return of Basil 
 Egerton into our neighbourhood, as the 
 proprietor of the family place about three 
 miles from Castleford. The deaths in his 
 family which placed him in that position 
 were numerous and sad. Two of the 
 young Egertons fell in the Crimea, one
 
 basil's bride. 113 
 
 young son died of fever at Eton, and 
 the eldest, a fine young man, met with 
 his death in the hunting-field. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Egerton was thus left, after 
 her husband's death, with an only daughter, 
 but slenderly provided for, the estates 
 were strictly entailed on the male heir, and 
 the old Squire had spent all the available 
 money that came to his hands. His wife, 
 a charming woman, and the daughter of a 
 neighbouring Squire, had brought nothing 
 to add to the family fortunes. 
 
 She had passed the two first years of 
 her widowhood in a small foreign town, 
 but, at Basil's earnest entreaty, had been 
 spending a twelvemonth at her old home 
 at the time of which I now speak, and 
 which was the third 3^ear from his coming 
 into possession of the family property. It 
 was a hard trial to Mrs. Egerton, and to 
 her daughter also, this coming back to 
 Newton Priors — the name of Mr. Egerton's 
 place. Happily Basil had always been a 
 
 VOL. I, I
 
 114 Mils, grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 favourite botli with liis aunt and his cousin 
 Marj. They had known him very well in 
 his earlier days. Mary was then quite a 
 child, but she always retained an affection- 
 ate remembrance of her " Cousin Basil." 
 
 Mary was now three and twenty, whilst 
 Basil was somewhere about six or seven 
 and thirty. He had retained all the good 
 looks which had distinguished him when 
 at Mr. Kesbit's some fifteen years before. 
 His manners, which had always been those 
 of a well-bred man, had gained something 
 in dignity and decision, the result of time 
 and enlarged intercourse with the world 
 and with society, whilst his tall, command- 
 ing figure retained all the supple activity 
 of his youthful days. He was altogther as 
 fine a specimen of an English gentleman 
 of fortune and position as could be im- 
 agined. 
 
 He was altering and fitting up a pretty 
 cottage in the park for his aunt and cousin, 
 to which they were to remove when it
 
 basil's bride. 115 
 
 should be ready for their reception. 'Popu- 
 lar opinion, however, decided that Mary 
 Egerton was likely to remain a fixture in 
 her cousin's house, and the home of her 
 infancy. I hoped it might be so, for Mary 
 Egerton was a very charming girl, and 
 there was no doubt she greatly liked and 
 admired her cousin Basil, although several 
 years older than herself. I had many 
 opportunities of observing them together, 
 for now that Mr. Egerton was a rich and 
 influential person in the county, he did not 
 forget the friends he had known and es- 
 teemed in his humbler days, and many 
 were the pleasant days that both Dr. Grey 
 and I spent at Newton Priors. 
 
 Though Basil had long ceased to talk to 
 me of Agnes Nesbit (Yavasour), I felt 
 sure he still cherished a constant and ro- 
 mantic attachment for her, and clung to 
 the memory of their youthful love. I do 
 not think that Miss Egerton had ever 
 heard the name of Agnes Nesbit. The 
 
 i2
 
 116 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 family had ceased to be long before her 
 time, and there was no one she knew, ex- 
 cept myself, to tell the tale. But brief as 
 had been the period* of that love, and un- 
 fortunate its conclusion, I felt sure it had 
 never been forgotten by him, and when 
 people wondered that Basil Egerton did 
 not marry, 1 often felt as if I alone could 
 tell the reason why. 
 
 Some few years before the break up of 
 the old family, and the succession of Basil 
 Egerton to the property, a rumour had 
 reached Castleford, which was subsequent- 
 ly confirmed, that great trouble had be- 
 fallen the Yavasours in India. I am not 
 competent to speak of Indian affairs, 
 knowing so little about them, and might 
 make some egregious blunder if I attempt- 
 ed to detail the story of ruin and disgrace 
 that had fallen on the unfortunate man. 
 It was something connected with native 
 affairs in a very high quarter, and the only 
 thing actually present to my recollection
 
 basil's bride. 117 
 
 is tliat Mr. Vavasour lost his higli post, 
 that lie failed in a great money specu- 
 lation, and that he and his wife had re- 
 th-ed to some distant province, where he 
 had still sufficient interest to secure a 
 small place that brought him in at least a 
 sufficiency for all they required, and, as 
 they had no family, they contrived to get 
 on tolerably well. They were both con- 
 tented to remain where they were, for Mr. 
 Vavasour could not brook the idea of re- 
 turning to England in such different cir- 
 cumstances from those he had looked for- 
 ward to enjoying when he should bring 
 his wife back to her native place. 
 
 I never heard from Agnes after their 
 misfortune. Old Captain Allen told us 
 the report was quite true, and had been 
 confirmed by an Indian correspondent of 
 his own ; after that no more was heard 
 of the unfortunate Vavasours, and as old 
 Captain Allen died the following year, that 
 source of casual information was lost.
 
 118 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 Towards the end of tlie montli of July 
 in the year I speak of, Mr. Egerton issued 
 cards for an out-door party and dance, in 
 honour of his cousin Mary's birthday ; we 
 were amongst the invited guests, and 
 everything was to be done in the most 
 perfect style both in the house and in the 
 beautiful garden and grounds. There was 
 an immense gathering of all the county, 
 and most of the inhabitants of the town of 
 Castleford were invited. I forgot to men- 
 tion that Basil Egerton was our popular 
 member on the Conservative side at that 
 time, which no doubt caused a larger num- 
 ber of invitations to be issued than might 
 otherwise have been the case. He had left 
 everything to be done by experienced hands, 
 whom he sent down from town, where he 
 was at that time residing for the parlia- 
 mentary season, only coming occasionally 
 to Newton Priors for a day or two. 
 
 Mrs. and Miss Egerton were, as I have 
 said, resident there, and had carte blanche
 
 119 
 
 to order anything and invite anyone accord- 
 ing to their fancy ; and although the gaiety 
 must have been contrary to her inclination, 
 Mrs. Egerton lent herself to the occasion, 
 on her daughter's account, though with a 
 great mixture of feeling. But she was 
 a strong-minded woman, and what she 
 thought it right or expedient to do, that 
 she did, let it be ever so painful. 
 
 Mary was young enough, and sufficiently 
 in love with the master of the house, and 
 giver of the entertainment devised in her 
 honour, to put every feeling aside except 
 those of pleasure and gratification. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, or rather after- 
 noon, about five or six o'clock, when the 
 guests began to arrive. Mary met me in 
 the hall, for as an old friend of her cousin 
 Basil's I was always, to her, a welcome guest. 
 
 Her mother remained in the large saloon, 
 and received such visitors there as preferred 
 looking at the fine collection of pictures in 
 the gallery, and other curiosities of the
 
 120 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 mansion, to the more popular amusements 
 of the gardens and grounds. Mary was 
 looking extremely pretty, and a deeper 
 pleasure than that derived from the fete 
 shone in her clear brown eyes, as she said, 
 
 '' Basil is only just come. He says he 
 has been detained in town till late this 
 afternoon, and he desired me to tell you to 
 be so good as to wait for him here ; he has 
 something particular to say to you." 
 
 I promised to remain, and Mary flitted 
 away. There could be no doubt, I thought, 
 that the place she then filled in receiving 
 her cousin's guests would ere long be hers 
 by right — as his wife. She looked the part 
 already, and I could never believe that a 
 " memory" alone could keep her from the 
 place she was so well calculated to adorn. 
 I sauntered about the large, cool, spacious 
 hall, where Mary Egerton had detained 
 me, and was well amused with watching 
 the groups of people as they arrived, and 
 dispersed, some within and some without
 
 basil's bride. 121 
 
 the house. There were also beautiful 
 stands of rare flowers, besides the pictures 
 which covered the walls, to admire and 
 engross my attention. 
 
 I had not long to wait for the appear- 
 ance of the master of the house, I was 
 struck, the instant I saw him, with the un- 
 wonted brightness of his whole aspect. I 
 felt sure something of happy moment must 
 have befallen him, and then I reverted in 
 thought to the glad light that shone in 
 Mary Egerton's dark eyes, and I felt as if 
 both sprang from the same cause. Surely 
 Basil Egerton was going to tell me of his 
 engagement to his charming cousin. I 
 hardly needed the preface he made to his 
 communication, as he offered me his arm, 
 and leaving the house, turned down im- 
 mediately into a quiet, sheltered walk, 
 little frequented by the guests of the day 
 — he said, 
 
 " I have such good news for you that 
 I could not wait the chance of meeting you
 
 122 MES. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 in a crowd in the grounds, so I asked Mary 
 to keep you in the hall till I could have 
 the pleasure of seeing you, and it is very 
 good of you to have waited for me." 
 
 My only response was to assure my old 
 friend that I was very ready to wait, and 
 delighted to hear it was to receive pleasant 
 tidings ; but I could very easily divine 
 what his news was. Mr. Egerton turned 
 quickly towards me when I said that, look- 
 ing eagerly in my face, at the same time 
 saying, 
 
 '' Impossible 1" 
 
 '' I daresay you think I have neither 
 eyes to see nor ears to hear, nor an under- 
 standing to conceive what has been present 
 to my imagination for some time," said I. 
 
 " Not unless you are a vvitch, dear Mrs. 
 Grey, to see the invisible and hear the in- 
 audible. T say nothing as to the extent 
 of your imagination — of course I can place 
 no limits to that." 
 
 " Well," 1 replied, " I think it requires
 
 123 
 
 no TYonderful stretcli of imagination to 
 fancy that " 
 
 '' Well, fancy what ?" said my pertina- 
 cious host. 
 
 I answered boldly — 
 
 '^Well, that at last you have found your 
 destined bride." 
 
 ^'EigJiir returned Basil, emphatically — 
 " you are quite right. Thank heaven, at 
 last I have !" 
 
 ''Yes, and in your sweet cousin Mary." 
 
 '^ No, you are mistaken there. Mary is 
 a dear girl, and a charming cousin, or sis- 
 ter, but too young for me. Listen, what 
 happiness do you think is yet in store for 
 me ? I feel sure you will rejoice more than 
 anyone else I know when I tell you my 
 glad, joyful tidings. Agnes is returned !''
 
 124 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TT was strange that the possibility of 
 -*- such an event had never before occurred 
 to my active imagination. Had Basil 
 Egerton, then, been waiting all those weary 
 years on the bare chance of such an event 
 as that of Agnes returning a widow to Eng- 
 land ? I hardly knew what to say, or in 
 what form to shape my congratulations, 
 till I knew more, so I quietly observed — 
 " Then I suppose you have seen her ?" 
 ''No, not yet, but I have had a line 
 from her. It was a strange chance that 
 brought me acquainted with the fact of 
 her return to England. I had never heard 
 a word of or from her before, and was
 
 basil's bride. 125 
 
 totally ignorant tliat her — that Mr. Vava- 
 sour was dead." 
 
 Basil then went on to tell me that he 
 had accidentally met a man in London 
 with whom he had been very intimate 
 some years back, that he was only just 
 returned from India, " and from what he 
 told me," said Basil, " I found that Agnes 
 had been a fellow-passenger, my friend 
 observing, ' By the way, one of the lady- 
 passengers informed me she came from 
 
 Castleford, in shire. I told her that I 
 
 had a friend living near that town, and 
 when your name was mentioned, the said 
 lady became eloquent in your praise, and 
 said she had known you many years ago, 
 but had long lost sight of you. She seem- 
 ed charmed to hear of 3^our good fortune, 
 and agreed with me that you deserved 
 it.' My friend also remarked that the 
 lady had been personally unknown to him 
 till the day they happened to engage in 
 this conversation, adding, ' But a friend of
 
 126 MES. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 mine in the same ship who introduced us 
 told me he had formerly been acquainted 
 with the lady and her husband in India, 
 the latter being since dead. They were a 
 Mr. and Mrs.Yavasour ; he had been very 
 unfortunate, and had got into some dread- 
 ful mess with Government, and had to re- 
 linquish a very lucrative post, and had lived 
 in obscurity ever since. Mrs.Yavasour had 
 the reputation of being a great beauty when 
 she first appeared in India, and — and ' " 
 
 Mr. Egerton hesitated a little as he re- 
 counted his friend's speech, and seemed 
 disinclined to finish it, so I asked — 
 
 " Did your friend say whether Agnes 
 was altered since those days ?" 
 
 *'How should he tell? he did not know 
 her till later," was the somewhat brusque 
 reply ; then Basil remarked, in a more genial 
 tone — " I see what you think, dear Mrs. 
 Grey, and no doubt I shall find my Agnes 
 a little altered, as she will find me." 
 
 " Well, if she is not more altered than
 
 basil's BEIDK. 127 
 
 you are, Mr. Egerton, I think you will have 
 every reason to be satisfied." 
 
 '' Satisfied ! Ali ! if you could tell the 
 nature of the feeling^ I still entertain for 
 Agnes, you would know that no change 
 which any number of years can have made 
 in that dear face and form can in any way 
 detract from my love and admiration. She 
 will always be Agnes to me, tlie one woman 
 on earth I care to make my wife !" 
 
 "Well, I hope we shall find our dear 
 Agnes the same in disposition, whatever 
 alteration there may be personally. We all 
 know that her lovely complexion cannot be 
 expected to have remained the same after 
 fifteen years' wear and tear of Indian cli- 
 mate. But pray tell me where you found 
 her, and all about everything that has 
 happened ?" 
 
 ''I found out where she was in London 
 from my friend, who told me Mrs. Vavasour 
 had asked him to recommend some cheap 
 inn or lodging for her to rest a few days,
 
 128 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 before she started for her native town, 
 which she was anxious to visit, and see 
 some old frieads there." 
 
 '' Then how did 3^ou miss seeing her ?" 
 " It was only yesterday morning I met 
 my friend, and I did not find the house she 
 was staying at till this morning, as she had 
 moved from the inn she went to from the 
 ship. I went immediately to the place I 
 was told of by the people at the inn, but 
 found, when I got there, she was out. I 
 had come provided with a short note, in 
 case of such a contretemps, and left it 
 with my card. I was obliged to come 
 down for Mary's fete this afternoon, but 
 propose running up again to-morrow. Just 
 before I left my rooms in town to-day I 
 received a note in answer to mine. It is 
 very short, but entirely to the purpose." 
 
 Basil put the note into my hand, it con- 
 tained a scrap of paper, which he took out 
 as he gave me Agnes's note to read. It 
 said : —
 
 basil's beide. 129 
 
 " Dear Basil, 
 
 '' How good of you to seek me, 
 and to remember old times. I have not 
 forgotten tliem either, as you will see by 
 the enclosed. 
 
 "Yours ever, 
 
 " Agnes Yayasour." 
 
 " And tbe enclosed ?" I asked. 
 
 " Ah ! that was a little scrap I gave her, 
 tlie last evening we passed together. I 
 told her then that no one but ' Agnes ' 
 should ever be ' Basil's bride !'" 
 
 '' And Agnes has sent you that reminder 
 already ?" said I, wondering, for I remem- 
 bered the girl's delicate feeling on all such 
 subjects, and intimate as they might have 
 been in their youth, how could she tell 
 that Basil's feelings towards her, so long a 
 wife, and now a widow, should be the same 
 as in her early girlhood ? 
 
 Basil seemed to penetrate some of my 
 thoughts, as he replied to them — 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 '^ It was no ' reminder.' only an answer 
 to my urgent appeal in my note as to 
 whether she was the same Agnes, even as 
 I remained to her the same Basil of so 
 many years ago." 
 
 I believe that Mr. Egerton would have 
 remained talking to me all that evening 
 about past pleasures and pains, and antici- 
 pations of coming happiness, regardless of 
 his duties of host, had I not reminded him 
 of them. 
 
 I felt saddened after this interview, and 
 could think of nothing else. The sight of 
 Mary Egerton's sweet, happy, unconscious 
 face gave me pain. I saw how constantly 
 her looks turned to her cousin, and felt 
 sure that, in her innocent heart, she be- 
 lieved that he was, like herself, perfectly 
 happy because they were together. Poor 
 Mary ! how soon the waking hour from 
 that fond dream must come, and, I knew, 
 come when it would be a very bitter trial. 
 
 Then how greatly I wondered what my
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. 131 
 
 old friend Agnes would be like ; her readi- 
 ness to remind her old lover of his early 
 promise did not look well. Surely she 
 must have passed through some deterio- 
 rating period in her married life of so many 
 years. She must have lost the delicate 
 bloom of her feelings, as well as of her 
 complexion, by this time ; and then I re- 
 proached myself with disloyalty to the 
 friend I had loved so well in her girlhood. 
 That bright evening passed quickly away. 
 The dance that succeeded the garden-party 
 took place in the house ; it began early and 
 ended late. There was a sumptuous ban- 
 quet, which did duty both as late dinner 
 and early supper. It was a charming en- 
 tertainment, and the donor of it seemed 
 the happiest of all. I left with some sad 
 forebodings in my heart. I knew that 
 deep, sorrowful disappointment awaited 
 both Mary and her fond mother, and at 
 the same time I rather feared that disap- 
 pointment in another form would be the 
 
 k2
 
 132 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 portion of Basil Bgerton. He put me into 
 the carriage, and whispered, 
 
 " I return early to London to meet mj 
 Agnes to-morrow. I shall, persuade her to 
 visit, not me, but my aunt here, and as 
 soon as etiquette permits, I shall take her 
 a,way again as — my bride ! " 
 
 It seemed a strange position of affairs, 
 and I felt much for Mrs. Egerton in having 
 to welcome the coming stranger to take 
 her place at Newton Priors, instead of her 
 daughter, as once appeared so likely. 
 
 A week passed away, and I heard and 
 saw nothing of the Egerton family ; but it 
 often happened that a longer period elapsed 
 without our meeting, and T felt sure that 
 Basil, in the delight of his restoration to 
 Agnes's society, could think of no one but 
 her. At length a note came from Mrs. 
 Egerton, asking Dr. Grey and myself to 
 dine with them the following day, and to 
 come early, as she wanted to have a little 
 chat with me before dinner.
 
 basil's bride. 133 
 
 My husband was otherwise engaged, so 
 I drove myself over in our little pony- 
 carriage, and was shown up into Mrs. 
 Eo^erton's own mornino^-room, as it was too 
 early to assemble in the drawing-room be- 
 fore dinner. The dear old lady received 
 me very kindly. There was a sorrowful 
 look in her kind dark eyes, which were 
 like her daughter's. She began at once 
 to speak on the subject nearest her heart. 
 
 " You know this strange lad}^, I under- 
 stand, Mrs. Grey. I never saw Miss Nes- 
 bit, for we did not visit them, but heard of 
 her when Basil first went to Mr. Nesbit's, 
 though I never knew that an engagement 
 had existed between them before her mar- 
 riage with that rich Indian, Mr. Vavasour. 
 Of course it would in those days have been 
 a very eligible match for Basil — before 
 Mr. Nesbit failed — and we cannot blame 
 him now for his constancy ; but I confess 
 I should have liked him to have married 
 one of our county young ladies, and not
 
 134 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 this stranger widow, who must be five or 
 six and thirty, at least." — Mrs. Egerton 
 would not for the world have hinted at her 
 disappointment that her own beloved child 
 was passed over; she continued — "I have 
 asked the favour of jouv coming here to- 
 day to meet Mrs.Yavasour. Basil escorts 
 her down this evening, and it is rather an 
 awkward part that Mary and 1 have to 
 play in receiving her as a guest, under the 
 circumstances, so I felt sure you would 
 come and help us." 
 
 I felt it was indeed an awkward, and, 
 more than that, trying position to the 
 sweet old lady who had so long and so 
 gracefully presided over that stately home 
 — and for her daughter! Well, I pitied 
 her from my heart ! Then I remembered 
 my old friendship with Agnes, and tried to 
 rekindle some of its former fire and force, 
 but there seemed nothing but dead ashes 
 in my heart, and I felt ashamed of the 
 inexplicable dislike I felt to the idea
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. 135 
 
 of her coming to that house as " Basil's 
 bride." 
 
 However, the time passed away, and 
 Mrs. Eo^erton and I left her boudoir for the 
 drawing-room, to be in readiness to receive 
 the travellers ; the carriage was to meet 
 them at the railway station, Basil driving 
 his open phaeton, and the light luggage 
 cart was sent for Mrs. Vavasour's maid and 
 packages. I was rather surprised to hear 
 of the attendant, considering Agnes's cir- 
 cumstances, but supposed that Basil had 
 considered it necessary for her to be so 
 accompanied. 
 
 Mary was also in waiting for the travel- 
 lers ; she greeted me with studied cheer- 
 fulness, but the beautiful, happy light had 
 faded out of her now sad eyes ; she looked 
 very pale and nervous, and talked inces- 
 santly of everything but that which was 
 uppermost in her mind. At last we heard 
 the grinding of wheels on the gravel, as 
 the carriage drew up before the massive
 
 136 MRS. GEET'S EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 hall door. The groom jumped down from 
 his seat behind, and the deep-toned door- 
 bell clanged its loud summons through the 
 house. I saw Mary grow deadly pale, and 
 press her hand for a moment on her heart, 
 as if to stop its rebellious throbbings. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton rose calm and stately from 
 her chair, and advanced towards the door 
 to meet her nephew and his affianced bride. 
 I cast a hasty glance from one to the 
 other. Basil's countenance was calm and 
 self-possessed, but exhibited none of that 
 exultant gladness that was depicted on it 
 when I saw him last. He advanced first 
 into the room, then, turning to the lady 
 who accompanied him, only said, 
 
 " My aunt— Mrs. Vavasour." 
 
 The lady came slowly forward, but 
 difficult indeed would it have been to 
 recognise the slim, graceful figure of 
 Agnes Nesbit under the portly one of the 
 lady who languidly approached and took 
 the hand Mrs. Egerton extended, saying,
 
 basil's bride. 137 
 
 "Thank you — quite well — tired rather 
 — long journey — glad to rest-." 
 
 Then the same ceremony was repeated 
 with Mary, but Agnes's eyes dwelt on her 
 fair face with a longer scrutiny as she 
 said, 
 
 " Glad to see you. Basil told me you 
 were here ; he is so good, so kind to every- 
 one. 
 
 Then Mrs. Egerton came forward, and 
 observed — 
 
 ''But here is some one j ou do know; 
 our old friend Mrs. Grey is kindly come to 
 welcome you." 
 
 Of course, I could only put on a smiling 
 countenance, and say, 
 
 " You must have forgotten me by this 
 time, Agnes, and I should hardly have 
 known you^ if I had not been told you 
 were expected to-day." 
 
 Very true was that observation on my 
 part, for although I recognised in Mrs. 
 Yavasour a sort of family resemblance to
 
 138 MRS. GREY S EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 her former self, all actual traces of tlie 
 Agnes I bad known and loved were 
 effaced. She was grown large and coarse, 
 with a strong resemblance to Mr. Nesbit ; 
 her once fair, beautiful complexion had 
 turned into sallow paleness ; her eyes, so 
 bright and tender, were half closed by the 
 heavy cheeks, which had usurped the 
 greater part of her face ; her fair hair, 
 still bright and abundant, though a shade 
 or two darker than of old, was the only 
 thing about her on which time had not 
 laid a devastating hand. 
 
 '' Agnes is very tired ; she has not got 
 over her long voyage yet, and the railway 
 journey to-day has quite upset her," said 
 Mr. Egerton, with a proper show of anxiety, 
 more audible in his words than visible in 
 his countenance. 
 
 Mrs.Vavasour looked up at him with a 
 languishing glance, and said, 
 
 ''You are always too anxious about me, 
 dearest ; let me see my own room, and
 
 basil's beide. 139 
 
 send Pauline, and I shall soon be ready 
 for dinner — that is, if it is ready for me " 
 (with a slight attempt at a laugh) ; " and, 
 indeed, I hope it is, for I am dreadfully 
 faint and hungry." 
 
 This unsentimental speech was received 
 in silence by her lover, and with surprised 
 looks by the two ladies, but to me it ac- 
 counted for much of the change that I 
 perceived in Mrs. Vavasour. She had be- 
 come a gourmande, and as such had, as an 
 inevitable consequence, combined with her 
 indolence, increased in size so amazingly. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton rang the bell for Mrs. 
 Vavasour's maid, whilst that lady replied 
 to my little speech of welcome. 
 
 '' Ah, dear Mrs. Grey, I am very glad 
 indeed to see you again, and remember 
 you quite well. I shall hope often to see 
 you here after Mr. Egerton and I are com- 
 fortably settled for good." 
 
 I did not dare glance at the bridegroom 
 elect as his future wife made her little
 
 140 MES. geet's eeminiscences. 
 
 speeclies to us all. I felt how he must be 
 regretting his precipitancy in re- offering 
 himself to a woman after fifteen years' 
 absence, and without having seen her. 
 
 The dinner passed over in spasmodic 
 attempts on the part of the master of the 
 house to talk, and on that of his guests to 
 keep up the ball of conversation. Mrs. 
 Yavasour was the least discomposed of the 
 whole party ; she evidently enjoyed her 
 dinner, and called for pale ale, and quaffed 
 it with avidity, not despising the wines 
 that were handed round. She looked 
 ^bout with evident appreciation of all the 
 luxury that surrounded her. When Mrs. 
 Egerton rose, I believe she would willingly 
 have remained behind with her betrothed, 
 but I heard him say, 
 
 " I am coming directly, Agnes. I never 
 sit long after dinner, but I am going to 
 speak to my steward, so please go with 
 my aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Yavasour, thus dismissed, rolled
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. 141 
 
 slowly out of the room, thoD, placino^ her- 
 self in a comfortable recumbent position 
 on a sofa in the drawing-room, was soon 
 fast asleep. Mrs. Egerton looked towards 
 the intended wife of her nephew, and whis- 
 pered to me, 
 
 "It is like a hideous nigfhtmare ! — he 
 never can love or marry such a woman !" 
 
 "And yet," I replied, "she was a very 
 charming girl." 
 
 "Yes, that might have been, when she 
 was quite young, but she comes of low 
 parentage, and now she is older her want 
 of good breeding shows itself. JSTo doubt 
 the secluded, self-indulgent life she has led 
 for fifteen years in India has contributed to 
 make her what she is ; but ah ! is there no 
 help or rescue for my ill-fated nephew? 
 Must this underbred, coarse woman take 
 her place as mistress of this dear old 
 time-honoured home ?" 
 
 Mary rose and went to her mother as 
 the old lady raised her voice in her trouble^
 
 142 MRS. grey's REMIlSriSOENCES. 
 
 and persuaded her to go to her own room, 
 accompanying and remaining with her 
 there ; and as Basil entered the room just 
 then, I ordered my pony-carriage, and was 
 glad to drive home without farther delay.
 
 143 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 T HAYE often thought, in the course of 
 *- mj long life, that there is generally 
 more pain than pleasure in meeting old 
 friends after a long separation, and in this 
 case it was positively appalling to see the 
 change that time had wrought in my old 
 school-friend. It was the mental more 
 than the personal alteration that I lament- 
 ed so deeply as I thought what must be 
 the effect on the family of which she was 
 so soon to become a member, most espe- 
 cially on Basil Egerton himself. 
 
 These queries were in some measure 
 answered when, a few days after, he rode 
 up to our house, and came in, as he said, 
 for a few minutes' chat. I was rather
 
 144 MEs. grey's eeminiscenoes. 
 
 surprised to see him, as I fancied he had 
 intended returning to London after he had 
 settled Mrs. Vavasour in his house as a 
 visitor to his aunt and cousin. This I 
 said to Mr. Egerton soon after he came in. 
 
 "Yes," said he, ''I did intend leaving 
 Mrs. Yava — Agnes at home, and only 
 making occasional visits there myself. I 
 thought, too, that, situated as we are, she 
 might prefer it, but I found it would not 
 do in any way. Agnes cried, and said, 
 after our long separation, she could not 
 bear to lose sight of me, and my aunt 
 declared she would not be left alone with 
 Mrs. Vavasour." 
 
 " And what does your cousin Mary say?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "Ah! Mary, dear, good little Mary! 
 She really behaves more like an angel than 
 a woman ! She tries to make the best of 
 a bad business, and to keep peace, and 
 reconcile everj person and thing — God bless 
 her ! — but it is difficult enough !"
 
 basil's bride. 145 
 
 '' I am sorry you find it so already. 
 What will you do with half your life before 
 
 you?" 
 
 ''Heaven knows ! I am sure I do not," 
 said Basil, with a weary sigh, as he thre\v 
 himself into a chair, and took off his gloves 
 despondingly. 
 
 I said nothing, but no doubt thought the 
 more ; it seemed so terrible to me, the 
 sacrifice he was about to make to a phan- 
 tasy. Mr. Egerton looked up after a pause, 
 and said, 
 
 " You were grievously surprised, and 
 disappointed, too, in your old friend ?" 
 
 I replied — "I simply could not have be- 
 lieved it possible. But surely Mrs. Vava- 
 sour must be in some degree aware of the 
 great change that has taken place in her- 
 self in every way since you parted, and 
 would not wish to hold you to a promise 
 which she, in fact, cancelled when she mar- 
 ried Mr. Vavasour." 
 
 " I do not know — I have never asked 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 laer — and, poor girl, she loves me as fondly 
 as ever ! She wears our engagement ring 
 still, and says it has never left her finger. 
 So sometimes I think ' we may be happy 
 yet,' and at others I loathe my unlucky des- 
 tiny, and the rash blindness with which I 
 rushed upon my fate, without caring to see 
 whither it was leading me. Yes, Mrs. 
 Yavasour fully understood me to have re- 
 newed my former offer, and she as un- 
 equivocally has accepted it. Well, we must 
 make the best of it now, the step seems 
 irrevocable." 
 
 I could give no comfort in the miserable 
 case. Neither did I see what could be 
 done whilst Agnes chose to hold her un- 
 willing lover to his promise. I went over 
 soon after, at Mr. Egerton's request, and 
 Dr. Grey went with me. It was August 
 then, a hot, close day, the windows were 
 all open, and the three ladies were in the 
 drawing-room. Mrs. Yavasour, as usual, was 
 reclining on the most luxurious sofa in the
 
 basil's bride. 147 
 
 room, and a little iu the shadow cast by 
 the YeDetian shutters, which were partly- 
 closed. 
 
 •Jt was not long after luncheon, and Mrs. 
 Vavasour generally indulged in a prolong- 
 ed siesta after her " tiffin," as she always 
 called it. I only wondered she did not 
 retire to the more undisturbed seclusion of 
 her own shady and luxurious apartment ; 
 but Mrs. Egerton told me she always stayed 
 downstairs to waylay Basil, and to make 
 him either sit by her sofa, or indulge her 
 with a saunter in the shade, or any lover- 
 like attentions she could extort from him. 
 Mr. Egerton was not visible when we 
 first went into the room, we were told he 
 had gone to the stables after luncheon, 
 declining Mrs. Vavasour's offer of ac- 
 companying him. Dr. Grey left the room 
 to go and look for him, but first advanced 
 to the sofa of the recumbent lady, saying, 
 " I think we are old acquaintances, Mrs. 
 Vavasour ?" 
 
 l2
 
 148 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 '* Oh ! yes, Dr. Grey, in poor papa's 
 time ! I remember you and Mrs. Grey 
 very well. But we all change so terribly 
 in the course of time that it is difficult to 
 know old friends again. I am sure I 
 should not have remembered you, nor you 
 me, I daresay." 
 
 " Well, I hardly know ; you are too much 
 in the shade there for me to tell, but per- 
 haps we shall remember each other better 
 by-and-by." 
 
 And then my husband went out, and 
 Mary came to the rescue, and tried to help 
 us two old friends to keep up anything 
 like a conversation. I wondered at her 
 self-possession and entire forgetfulness of 
 self, and then a pang came across my 
 mind as I remembered how Agnes in her 
 youth had been distinguished for every 
 quality that now made Mary so charming. 
 Was it possible that that gentle girl could 
 ever under any circumstances change as 
 Agnes had done ? Then I tried to bring
 
 BASILS BRIDE. 149 
 
 back something of my old feeling for 
 Agnes by talking to her of our early days, 
 and tilings that had happened at school 
 together, and to old school friends ; but 
 Mrs. Vavasour seemed disinclined to keep 
 up the conversation, or to encourage my 
 reminiscences of former days. 
 
 It was weary work altogether, and I 
 was very glad when the two gentlemen 
 made their appearance, hoping for a little 
 diversion to our dulness. Mrs. Vavasour 
 lifted her head with something like anima- 
 tion as she heard Mr. Egerton's voice, and 
 called him to her side, saying, 
 
 " Oh, Basil, dearest, pray come here and 
 talk for me to Mrs. Grey. I am so stupid, 
 I seem to forget everything she has been 
 telling me the last half hour — perhaps you 
 may remember better." 
 
 " Hardly, I think," said I, laughing, "as 
 Mr. Egerton, though a very good friend, 
 was never at school with me, as you were." 
 
 " Oh, yes, to be sure — I forgot that."
 
 150 MRS. geey's eeminiscenhes. 
 
 Then, as Mrs. Vavasour had got her poor 
 victim Basil to entertain her, as well as 
 my husband, I took advantage of Mary 
 Eoferton's offer of walkino^ round the con- 
 servatories, and we accordingly made our 
 way thither, talking as we went of any- 
 thing but what we were both thinking 
 about. At last, as I remarked on the 
 beauty and variety of rare plants in one 
 of the houses, Mary exclaimed, as if un- 
 wittingly — 
 
 ^' And to think that all these lovely 
 things will be hers ! Oh ! if Mrs. Vava- 
 sour were but more worthy of my cousin 
 and our old home, I would not grudge 
 them to her — but how can I help it as 
 things are ?" 
 
 " How indeed !" I replied. " And is 
 everything quite settled ?" 
 
 ^' Quite," said Mary. ''They are to be 
 married the beginning of next month, 
 when Mrs. Vavasour's year of widowhood 
 is expired, and Basil has given her carU
 
 basil's bride. 151 
 
 blanche as to lier trousseau and everything 
 else. Oh, if she were but better fitted to 
 make him happy !" 
 
 " I hear she is still much attached to 
 him," said I, by way of panacea. 
 
 " Yes, in a way, I believe, she is ; but I 
 fear all his former love for her is quite 
 extinct. I see he tries sometimes to re- 
 vive it, but it is evident what an effort it 
 costs him to play the part. She must see 
 it, but she holds him to his promise, and 
 in such a woman as that how can we won- 
 der, when there is every inducement to do 
 so?" 
 
 " Yes, and this lovely place must be a 
 strong argument in favour of her deter- 
 mination." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Grey," said poor Mary, shud- 
 dering, " you can never fancy the torture 
 it is to see her airs of appropriation of all 
 the dear home things, and to hear her talk 
 of what she means to do here when they 
 return from their wedding excursion, and
 
 152 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 inamma and I are gone to our cot- 
 tage ! It is enough to kill poor dear 
 Basil!" 
 
 And then Mary fairly broke down, and 
 cried bitterly. After she recovered we 
 went back, and I found Dr. Grey ready to 
 take me home. I was amused, whilst the 
 carriage was coming round, to observe how 
 wrapped up he seemed to be in his observa- 
 tion of Mrs. Vavasour ; he stood a little be- 
 hind the head of her sofa, intently listening 
 to her conversation, as she grew lively and 
 playful with her betrothed, and observing 
 every action. As we drove away from the 
 door, I said, 
 
 " Well, I think you were quite fascinated 
 with Mrs. Vavasour, you watched her so 
 closely. Do you see anythiDg to remind 
 you of our old friend Agnes ?" 
 
 " No," said he, " but I do of her cousin 
 Fanny," adding, by way of explanation, 
 ^' I once attended her professionally, when 
 living at her uncle's, and I never forget the
 
 basil's bride. 153 
 
 cast of a patient's countenaDce, however 
 greatly the features and complexion may 
 alter, and I am quite convinced the soi-disant 
 Mrs. Vavasour was Fanny Nesbit." 
 
 '' Fanny !" I exclaimed, in boundless 
 astonishment, which may be better con- 
 ceived than expressed. " Why, Fanny 
 died in India, not long after her marriage, 
 which was a very miserable one." 
 
 "Mrs. Vavasour has probably told you 
 so ?" questioned my husband. 
 
 " Yes — very briefly. I asked after Fanny, 
 and Mrs. Vavasour seemed a good deal 
 upset by my inquiry, but gave me to un- 
 derstand that the subject was a very pain- 
 ful one, as Fanny's marriage had been most 
 unhappy, and her death followed shortly 
 upon it ; and she begged me to say no 
 more, as she could not bear to talk upon 
 the subject." 
 
 "No doubt it was a delicate and difficult 
 one for her to manage, so she did well to 
 dismiss all present and future discussion
 
 154 MES. geet's eeminiscences. 
 
 upon it. So jou of course believed every 
 word slie told you ?" 
 
 ''Wb}^, she told me very little, only the 
 bare facts, which I have related, and which 
 she sobbed out from behind her pocket- 
 handkerchief." 
 
 " Which conveniently hid her face whilst 
 she was making her monstrous statement !" 
 
 " But," I persisted, " I cannot in any 
 way see — much as I should rejoice to do 
 so — that Mrs. Vavasour can be any other 
 than the Agnes we knew so well, and find 
 so changed, for you must remember that 
 Mr. Egerton's friend, or rather his friend's 
 friend, knew both Mr. and Mrs. Vavasour 
 very well in India, and had done so till 
 within a short time before Mr. Vavasour's 
 death, and that he recognized his widow, 
 and came over in the same ship with her. 
 Having seen Agnes and her husband so 
 lately together, there could be no mistake 
 as to identity ; and then the engagement 
 ring that Mr. Egerton gave Agnes, and the
 
 BASIL S BRIDE. 155 
 
 paper with ]iis promise, which she returned 
 to him, and (about which there could be no 
 mistake) all point to the fact, I fear, that 
 the present inmate of JSTewton Priors, and 
 the betrothed bride of its master, can be 
 no other than the Agnes he so dearly loved 
 —and lost." 
 
 Dr. Grey pondered over my words, and 
 admitted that there were great difficulties 
 in the way, but continued firm to his be- 
 lief that the lady who claimed the coveted 
 position of " Basil's bride " w^as no other 
 than the former Fanny Nesbit. 
 
 Under that strong impression of my hus- 
 band's my own understanding became en- 
 larged and my vision quickened, so that in 
 my next visit to Newton Priors I saw 
 many things which tended to confirm Dr. 
 Grey's suspicions, and these induced him to 
 go over occasionally, in the hope of elicit- 
 ing something which might serve to bring 
 about a blessed deliverance to our poor 
 friend.
 
 156 MRS. geet's eeminiscences. 
 
 We said nothing, however, to him, but 
 Dr. Grey caused diligent inquiries to be 
 made amongst friends of his in London 
 and elsewhere, who had Indian acquaint- 
 ances. We dared not utter a word, how- 
 ever, till something should authorise us 
 to speak on so delicate a subject. 
 
 Meanwhile time went on, and the dread- 
 ed wedding-day drew near. Basil made 
 occasional absences at that time, on the 
 plea of business connected with his ap- 
 proaching marriage, and it was with some 
 difficulty he persuaded his fiancee to re- 
 main quiet on those occasions, and forego 
 her wish, so persistently proclaimed, of 
 accompanying him to London. But this 
 Mr. Egerton calmly and decidedly nega- 
 tived. 
 
 One reason for the urgency of her re- 
 quest I imagined might be attributed to 
 the extreme dislike she felt to being left 
 alone with the two ladies of the house ; 
 and I could see she also disliked being ex-
 
 basil's bride. 157 
 
 posed to the scrutiny of Dr. Grey, Tvho 
 sometimes called when Mr. Egerton was 
 away, and never failed to engage Mrs. 
 Vavasour in conversation that led to past 
 times and experiences. 
 
 She would, however, talk to me occasion- 
 ally of those by-gone days, but there waS' 
 nothing in those reminiscences that con- 
 cerned one cousin more than the other — 
 and she generally avoided anything of a 
 particularly personal nature, though she 
 seldom failed to dwell on the love that had 
 existed between herself and Basil Egerton 
 in those days of happy intercourse. 
 
 There were times, I confess, when my 
 faith in my husband's sagacity was some- 
 what shaken, and I felt as though I halted 
 between two opinions. Perhaps one reason 
 may have been that Mrs. Vavasour was in 
 some respects improved since her first 
 arrival, and I saw she roused herself out 
 of many of her indolent Indian ways and 
 habits; she also began to dress in good
 
 158 MRS. geet's reminiscences. 
 
 taste, regardless of expense, and leav- 
 ing off all traces of widowhood, lier still 
 beautiful liair was perfectly arranged by 
 her Frencli maid. Still, with all these ad- 
 vantages, she failed to win back the love 
 she claimed, and Basil's eye would pass 
 coldly over her to the place where Mary 
 sat in her simple dress, and her glossy 
 dark hair carelessly gathered up in a large 
 knot, leaving the open brow and sweet 
 face fully exposed to view. 
 
 Sometimes I could discern a rising flush 
 on Mrs. "Vavasour's sallow cheek, as her 
 gaze followed that of her betrothed, and 
 she impatiently endeavoured to concentrate 
 his attention on herself. 
 
 It was the week before the wedding 
 (which, from various causes, principally, 
 I believe, arising from lawyers' delays — and 
 which were in no degree accelerated by 
 Mr. Egerton's endeavours), and he was still 
 absent. He had been called on urgent 
 business to London, but was expected back
 
 basil's bride. 159 
 
 in a day or two. I had been asked to join 
 the family party, as my husband was also 
 from home. The invitation came from 
 Mrs. Egerton. She did not relinquish one 
 atom of her privileges as mistress of her 
 nephew's house. Her quiet dignity was 
 more than a match for Mrs. Yavasour's 
 pretentious self-importance. 
 
 Dr. Grey had heard nothing in confirma- 
 tion of his surmises, or to strengthen his 
 suspicions, everything (and that was little 
 enough, owing to the great retirement in 
 which Mr. Yavasour lived after his re- 
 verses), on the contrary, pointed the other 
 way. Basil's friend, who had been applied 
 to, certified that his friend was positive as 
 to the fact of the lady he came home with 
 from India being the widow of Mr. Yava- 
 sour, and with whom he was well acquaint- 
 ed as his wife — and, further, he knew her 
 to have been a Miss Nesbit. I there- 
 fore came reluctantly to* the conclusion 
 that there was no deception in the case,
 
 160 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 but that Basil's intended bride was the 
 veritable Agnes he had chosen in the 
 bright days of her youth, and who was 
 now so lamentably altered. 
 
 Still Dr. Grey refused to yield up his 
 strong conviction to the contrary ; he said 
 he had never yet been mistaken in a ques- 
 tion of identity, and would not give in an 
 inch. In vain I reminded him of the like- 
 ness of the two cousins when girls, and still 
 more of the striking resemblance of Mrs. 
 Vavasour to Mr. Nesbit — "her father." 
 
 " Her uncle, you mean," interposed Dr. 
 Grey; adding, "You forget Mr. Nesbit 
 had a brother as like him as if they had 
 been twins, and that man w^as Fanny's 
 father." 
 
 Whether it was really Agnes or Fanny, 
 there seemed no help for it, and Basil 
 appeared fated to be the unwilling victim 
 of one or the other. 
 
 I have said I was at Newton Priors, Dr. 
 Grey being absent. As the time drew
 
 basil's beide. 161 
 
 so near lie could no longer keep silence, 
 and in strict confidence lie one day im- 
 parted his suspicions to Mr. Egerton. 
 This idea, which had never distantly oc- 
 curred to Basil, seemed to bring fresh life 
 into his wearied existence, but his spirits 
 sank after a while, as the improbability of 
 the truth of such a surmise being proved 
 came over his mind, for, changed as she 
 was, there could be no shadow of doubt 
 that the lady he was about to marry was 
 the veritable widow of Mr. Vavasour, and 
 the same Mr. Vavasour we had all known 
 so well at Castleford. His ^history, public 
 and private, as well as his person, w^ere too 
 well known by all who could be interrogated 
 to admit of any doubt being entertained on 
 that subject. 
 
 It happened at that time Dr. Grey 
 went to London to visit an old patient 
 who had been long absent. This gentle- 
 man was a native of Castleford, and though 
 Dr. Grey had lost sight of him for several 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 MES. grey's EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 years, yet when he wrote begging him to 
 visit him professionally in London, saying 
 he was just returned from India, he went 
 without a moment's delay, inspired by 
 some vague hope that he might yet be able 
 to gain tidings that might save his friend 
 from his impending fate. 
 
 "India's a wide place," said I to him, 
 as we parted, " and your friend (whom I 
 remember very well) may never have come 
 across the path of Mr. Vavasour and 
 Agnes." 
 
 '' He may not — but people whom he knew 
 there might have done so, and as he is a 
 Castleford man, he may have been inter- 
 ested to hear of Vavasour and his wife 
 Agnes. Depend upon it I will leave no 
 stone unturned to find out the mystery." 
 
 Thus firm in hope and expectation he 
 departed, and I went to Mrs. Egertou and 
 Mary. Basil was not gone or going the 
 day I arrived, so I had ample time for 
 observing and deploring the miserable
 
 basil's beide. 163 
 
 state of affairs in that beautiful home. The 
 hope that Basil had indulged, when Dr. 
 Grey first talked to him on the subject, had 
 gradually declined and died out. He look- 
 ed harassed and unhappy, and it seemed 
 wonderful how any woman could persist 
 in holding so unwilling a captive to his 
 promise. Mrs. Vavasour appeared to ig- 
 nore all the misery around her, or, if she 
 observed it, to lay it to the account of Mrs. 
 Egerton and Mary. She said to me when 
 I arrived : 
 
 ''I am so glad to see you! We are so 
 dull and doleful here ! The dear aunt 
 and her little daughter can't bear leaving 
 these pleasant quarters, and are quite 
 angry with me, and spiteful, and envious 
 of my coming happiness. Really they 
 make poor dear Basil almost as dolorous 
 as themselves. It will be a blessed 
 deliverance for him and me too when 
 the happy day comes that sees them de- 
 part." 
 
 M 2
 
 164 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 Then, after a time, seeing I said nothing, 
 she returned to the subject, observing that 
 it was very evident Mary Egerton wor- 
 shipped her cousin, and could not forgive 
 his caring more for his former love than 
 for her foolish little insignificant self. 
 
 Mr. Egerton, on his part, did all that 
 duty required of him ; he was true to his 
 plighted word, though he had lost all love 
 for the woman who claimed his devotion ; 
 it was a sacrifice to honour, and it became 
 still harder, as I could see his cousin Mary 
 became dearer every day. He had an- 
 nounced his intention of going to London, 
 and Mrs. Yavasour chose to interpret that 
 movement as a sign of his impatience to 
 get all ready for the coming event. 
 
 There was no doubt that Mrs. Yavasour 
 was, in her way, deeply in love with Mr. 
 Egerton, and this fact, instead of making 
 the situation better, only served to render 
 it more irksome to the doomed man. On 
 the morning of his departure she hung
 
 basil's bride. 165 
 
 about him, uttering a thousand follies, with 
 many injunctions to ''take care of himself," 
 ending with an audible whisper of 
 
 " Oar last parting, my dearest ! When 
 we are once united, I shall never, I think, 
 let you out of my sight !" 
 
 " A terrible menace," thought I to my- 
 self, as I saw the wretched Basil free him- 
 self from her clinging arms, and coldly 
 touch her cheek, as in duty bound, whilst 
 he held out his hand to Mary, grasping hers 
 in a clasp that brought the bright colour 
 into her pale face. 
 
 Mr. Bgerton left home that day just as 
 the letter-bag was brought in, so he took 
 his own letters to read on the way, and 
 left the rest to their various claimants. 
 Amongst them I was glad to see one from 
 my husband, which was unexpected, as he 
 had only left the preceding day. I saw 
 one also directed in his hand to Mr. Eger- 
 ton, but as he placed it with the others in 
 his pocket, I heard nothing of its contents.
 
 166 MRS. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 Mine opeoed with a paragraph that was 
 apparently the whole and sole cause of the 
 letter being written at all — it said : 
 
 " Eejoice ! — mj hopes run high ! You 
 shall hear more in a day or two. I have 
 written to Mr. Egerton." 
 
 A day or two, however, passed, and we 
 neither saw nor heard anything more. On 
 the fourth day, as there were still no- 
 letters from either of the absent gentlemen,. 
 Mrs. Vavasour began to make a consider- 
 able disturbance, expressing violent anxiety, 
 and declaring she should go up to London 
 and see after her beloved Basil. She was 
 sure something must have happened, and 
 they feared to tell her ; but nothing should 
 keep her from his side if he was sick and 
 suffering. She worked herself into a state 
 of great excitement, and seemed bent on 
 going up to town to seek her absent 
 lover. 
 
 Neither Mrs. Egerton nor Mary proffered 
 an opinion, or a word of advice, nor did
 
 basil's beide. 167 
 
 they care to interfere with her proceedings, 
 so she began to make her arrangements 
 for departure, and requested that the car- 
 riao^e mio^ht be in readiness to take her to 
 the station, that she might proceed to 
 London by an afternoon train. But whilst 
 we sat at luncheon the door suddenly open- 
 ed, and Dr. Grey walked in. Mrs. Vava- 
 sour had risen eagerly as she heard a 
 masculine voice speaking from the door, 
 but seeing it was not the master of the 
 house, she could not control her angry 
 disappointment, and vented it on my hus- 
 band, exclaiming, 
 
 " Only you, Dr. Grey ? Where is my — 
 where is Basil ? Really it is very hard that 
 you should have come instead of Mr. Eger- 
 ton; but perhaps you will tell me where he 
 is? lam going to his club to inquire after 
 him." 
 
 Dr. Grey looked very calmly in her ex- 
 cited face, and then said, gravely, 
 
 "You had better spare yourself the
 
 168 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 trouble, Mrs. Vavasour. Let me beg of 
 you to alter your intention. '^ 
 
 His calm voice acted like oil on the 
 flame of lier indignation, and slie grew 
 crimson with passion, as she stamped her 
 foot, and exclaimed, 
 
 " You are much mistaken if you 
 think you can separate us. I know 
 you wish to do so, but you will not 
 succeed. Basil Egerton has sworn that 
 no one shall be his bride but me. But this 
 is folly," she continued, contemptuously, 
 turning to leave the room. " I am almost 
 Mr. Egerton's wife, and as such, have 
 every right to go and see him." 
 
 "I fear, Madam," said Dr. Grey, with 
 cool politeness, '' that you will find it dif- 
 ficult to substantiate the claim you have 
 so strangely put forward. Recollect your- 
 self, Madam, and be warned in time. You 
 had better drop your assumed name of 
 Agnes, and resume that of Fanny Vava- 
 sour."
 
 easil's bride. ] 69 
 
 A silence like that of death fell upon us 
 all. The unhappy woman, on hearing these 
 words, gasped out, " It is false !" every 
 vestige of colour forsook her sallow face, 
 and she sank fainting on her chair. 
 
 There is no occasion to prolong this 
 miserable woman's story. Dr. Grey had 
 succeeded, by means of his old friend, in 
 searching out a former servant of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Vavasour. We all remembered the 
 man, for he went out with them to India. 
 Through him we learnt that our poor 
 Agnes died soon after the date of her 
 husband's misfortunes, and that Fanny had 
 previously returned a widow to live with 
 her. After a brief period of widowhood, 
 Mr. Vavasour married Fanny, and she 
 then naturally became possessed of poor 
 Agnes's treasured relics of happier days, 
 and was thus enabled to play the part of 
 his first wife when she again became a 
 widow, and the widow of Mr. Vavasour. 
 
 I need hardly say how overwhelming
 
 170 MBS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 was the disappointment of Fanny Vavasour, 
 when she was obliged to succumb under 
 the flood of evidence brought against 
 her, nor the intense though subdued joy 
 and thankfuhiess of Mrs. Egerton and her 
 daughter. 
 
 There was no occasion then to hurry 
 the miserable woman's departure, she had 
 no defence to make, except that she had 
 always loved Basil Egerton so dearly, and 
 she had no idea of deceiving him, or any- 
 one, till she received his note, thinking she 
 was Agnes, and then, knowing they were 
 so much alike (she little dreamt of her own 
 alteration), the temptation was too strong 
 to be resisted, and so she played her game 
 — with what success we have seen. 
 
 Basil Egerton did not return to his home 
 for some months after he had so happily 
 regained his freedom, and Mrs. Egerton 
 and Mary once more breathed freely in 
 their old home, after it was cleared of the 
 unwelcome presence that had lately haunt-
 
 basil's bride. 171 
 
 ed it. When Mrs. Vavasour took her de- 
 parture, all the former brightness of the 
 house returned. But she was not allowed 
 to reap the full punishment of her iniquity, 
 for Dr. Grey was charged by Mr. Egerton 
 with the task of seeing her comfortably 
 established in a home of her own, and with 
 a small yearly income, so as to secure the 
 cousin of his once-loved Agnes against the 
 temptations and privations of poverty. 
 
 After Mr. Egerton's return, it was not 
 long before we heard, to our intense satis- 
 faction, that he was engaged to his sweet 
 cousin Mary, and shortly after we attend- 
 ed the ceremony that made her " Basil's 
 bride."
 
 EDITH'S ENGAGEMENT,
 
 EDITH'S ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 0"NE of the principal and handsomest 
 houses in Castleford was occupied 
 by a solicitor in good practice, of the name 
 of Fielding. 
 
 Mr. Fielding was a man of good con- 
 nexion, besides being a clever man of busi- 
 ness. Though of more plebeian origin 
 himself, he married, early in life, the 
 daughter of his partner, who was a re- 
 markably handsome woman, and made 
 him, in all respects, an excellent wife. 
 
 Mr. FieldiDg was fortunate, too, in his 
 family. He had several sons and daugh-
 
 176 MES. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ters, all more or less good-looking, and for 
 tlie most part prosperous in life. When I 
 became the wife of Dr. Grey nearly all the 
 family were grown up and married. The 
 three eldest daughters, handsome girls, 
 had all left the old home for more distant 
 ones of their own, and the sons, with the 
 exception of a boy still at school, were 
 out in the world in various callings and 
 professions. 
 
 But all the beauty and charm of sweet 
 girl-life had not entirely deserted the old 
 house when I became most intimately ac- 
 quainted with it. There was one daughter 
 still left, Edith, much younger than her 
 three sisters, and, to my mind, far more 
 beautiful than any of them. She was on a 
 smaller scale, and less strikingly hand- 
 some, perhaps, but with a charm of her 
 own, and a winning loveliness that none of 
 her sisters had ever possessed. 
 
 Mrs. Fielding, though proud of Edith, 
 and fond of her as the youngest darling of
 
 Edith's engagement. 177 
 
 her motherly heart, still considered that 
 she was inferior in personal attractions to 
 her elder and much-admired sisters. They 
 all in different degrees resembled herself, 
 and with that likeness to her side of the 
 house, they were also rather deficient in 
 the peculiar grace and refinement that 
 Edith inherited from her father's family. 
 Mr. Fielding often declared she was the 
 exact copy of his mother's picture — that 
 beautiful mother who had died in early 
 youth, and of whom the elderly lawyer 
 could have no distinct recollection, yet 
 he always cherished a romantic admiration 
 and affection for the ideal mother he had 
 never known except on canvas. 
 
 I had seen this picture, for the Fielding 
 family lived within ten miles of the old 
 county town, and I fully agreed with the 
 father as to the wonderful resemblance be- 
 tween his youngest daughter and her long 
 since dead ancestress. 
 
 It is strange to observe the likenesses 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 that sometimes capriciously appear between 
 the past and present members of a family, 
 in those who have never met, and are often 
 divided by the lapse of so many years ! 
 Surely there must be some strong mysteri- 
 ous link in family idiosyncrasies, which can 
 thus reproduce themselves — showing that 
 the ties and affections which connect the 
 past and present generations can never be 
 entirely dissolved. 
 
 That little Edith was a great pet in her 
 own family may easily be imagined, nor 
 was I proof against her many fascinations. 
 We were in the habit of seeing a great 
 deal of her, both in her childlaood and as 
 she grew up. I think, however, it was 
 some time before any of Edith's own family 
 realized the fact that the child had become 
 a woman, and was ready to take a woman's 
 part in the concerns of the little world 
 around her. Her brothers all called her 
 *'Baby," and her sisters spoke of her 
 '' coming out " as an event for which
 
 jkdtth's engagement. 1 79 
 
 *' Little Edie " must wait an indefinite 
 number of years. 
 
 Edith, however, after the manner of 
 spoilt darlings, took the matter into her 
 own hands, remarking to me one day, 
 
 " I see in the paper there is to be a 
 ofrand ball this Easter, and I mean to make 
 mamma take me. I have told papa so." 
 
 This was quite a new idea to me, so I 
 replied, 
 
 " You, Edie ! — why, you have never 
 been to a ball in your life. What put it 
 into your head ?" 
 
 Edith laughed merrily. 
 
 ''Why, dear Mrs. Grey, don't you know 
 I am past seventeen, and surely that is 
 time to come out ?" 
 
 " Are you so old ? I really beg your 
 pardoD, Edie, but I had quite forgotten 
 your last birthday, and I caonot think it 
 happened very long ago." 
 
 " Well, perhaps not — about a week or 
 so — but the fact remains the same. I am 
 
 n2
 
 180 Mus. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 seventeen, and old enough to go to all 
 sorts of delightful things." 
 
 " What does jour mamma say to it ?" 
 
 '' I hardly know ; I have not attacked 
 her yet, only papa, and he never says ' no ' 
 to me." Then, after a little pause, the 
 dear child came up caressingly to me with, 
 '' If mamma should be idle, and does not 
 want to go, but says papa and I may, 
 would you let me go with you ?" 
 
 Of course I did not refuse on that un- 
 likely proviso, but, happily, my services 
 were not required, as Mrs. Fielding proved 
 quite open to conviction, and though she 
 had rather enjoyed her long rest from the 
 arduous duties of chaperonage, she was 
 quite willing to enter upon them again on 
 little Edie's behalf, though she did say she 
 hoped the dear child would have been 
 satisfied to wait another year — " for she 
 was so very young." 
 
 Edith carried her point, and made her 
 first appearance at the Easter ball, where
 
 Edith's engagement. 181 
 
 there was a large assemblage, as the papers 
 had it, of all the beauty and fashion of 
 both town and country. Yes, it was a 
 very nice and good ball, and no one looked 
 prettier or enjoyed it more than our sweet 
 little Edith. Of course she was much ad- 
 mired — anything so young, and fair, and 
 fresh could not fail to bespeak much atten- 
 tion. I do not think, however, that any- 
 one in particular was hopelessly smitten 
 on the occasion, and I am quite sure that 
 Edith only regarded her numerous part- 
 ners as so many more or less eligible 
 young men to dance with. She was per- 
 fectly happy whilst there, and came away 
 .quite heart-whole from her first ball. 
 
 After that first appearance, Edith went 
 everywhere with her parents ; they were 
 popular people, and had plenty of society 
 both in the town and surrounding neigh- 
 bourhood, so Edith's time was well filled 
 up with various engagements, and she 
 declared she was as happy as the day
 
 182 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 was long, and sometimes the night too. 
 
 The first 3^ear passed away. I believe 
 Edith achieved a conquest or two not 
 worth mentioning, and in which her own 
 heart took no part. We had not many of 
 what are called ''eligible" young men in 
 our part of the world just then, and 
 most of those possibly looked for higher 
 connection than pretty Edith Fielding, 
 whilst of money it was a patent fact that 
 but a small share could fall to her portion, 
 with the numerous claims of elder brothers 
 and sisters ; to say nothing of the liberal 
 way in which it was Mr. and Mrs. Field- 
 ing's good pleasure to live and spend their 
 own money, it was impossible they could 
 be laying by much for those who were to 
 succeed them. 
 
 Another Easter ball came and went by, 
 almost as charming as the first, but there 
 was no denying that a little of the bloom 
 of first impressions was worn off. Edith 
 demanded that her partners should be
 
 Edith's engagement. Ife3 
 
 pleasant talkers as well as good dancers, 
 and she no longer welcomed all alike. Still 
 she was fancjfree; her happy little heart had 
 then known neither care nor trouble, nor 
 had apparently even fancied what might be 
 the delicious dream of a first love, or ques- 
 tioned her own capability as to becoming 
 the subject of such an episode in her own 
 life. She even had remarked to me more 
 than once during that year — possibly it 
 might have had some reference to the re- 
 jected suitors I have already mentioned — 
 
 "No, I am quite happy at home. I only 
 hope I shall never leave it ; and I often 
 wonder that my three sisters cared to go 
 from it so soon, and take upon themselves, 
 whilst so young, all the stupid cares and 
 worries of married life, of which they 
 are now so perpetually complaining to 
 mamma." 
 
 ''But, Edie," I rejoined, "do not they 
 say anything of the joys and happiness 
 also of their married lives ?"
 
 184 MRS. geey's -reminiscences. 
 
 " oil ! no ; we take all tliat for granted. 
 And I am sure, when Matilda and Captain 
 Bailing have to move tlieir quarters, they 
 seem to think their troubles are far greater 
 than the pleasure they enjoy in being to- 
 gether. But I suppose," she added, with a 
 sigh, "that is always the end of all married 
 life." 
 
 " Indeed, I hope not, my dear," I remon- 
 strated, rather hastily, for I felt somewhat 
 aggrieved that the silly child should thus 
 air opinions on subjects on which she was 
 so entirely ignorant. 
 
 However, we all see things from our own 
 stand-point, and Edith pitied her sisters 
 because they were no longer in their first 
 youth and fresh enjoyment of the amuse- 
 ments in which her foolish little heart de- 
 lighted. 
 
 Nevertheless Edith was not all froth 
 and frivolity even then. She had her 
 serious duties, which she performed in the 
 same earnest spirit in which she entered
 
 Edith's engagement. 185 
 
 into her gaieties — for the time being every 
 occupation, whether grave or gay, engross- 
 ed her thoroughly. Thus she visited her 
 favourite poor people, and lavished her 
 little allowance upon their necessities in 
 the most liberal spirit, in spite of the press- 
 ing demands of gloves and shoes, which 
 threatened to become serious considera- 
 tions, in consequence of her inconsiderate 
 generosity. Then she also taught in the 
 school, especially amongst the infants, who 
 doted upon her, and not less on the cakes 
 and sweeties with which she always came 
 provided. 
 
 Poor little Edie ! it was perhaps a butter- 
 fly existence, after all, but it suited her 
 joyous young life, and w^as as ephemeral 
 as the short-lived Summer-day insect's 
 brief career. 
 
 Edith's time came only too soon. It 
 was after her second Easter ball that she 
 made the acquaintance of Edgar Mostyn. 
 He was but lately come to Castleford, and
 
 186 MES. grmy's reminiscences. 
 
 was Curate to tlie clergyman who had suc- 
 ceeded my father as Rector. Dr. Grey and 
 I had always kept up a very friendly inter- 
 course w^ith the new comers to the Rectory. 
 T found it painful at first to be visiting at 
 the house which, had been so long a happy 
 home to me, and after the honoured master 
 had left it to strangers, when he was taken 
 away from us. However, it was only one 
 amongst the many painful though almost 
 impalpable obligations which crowd around 
 us in our passage through a long life — 
 and as such I lost no time in performing 
 it, and soon forgot the duty in the pleasure. 
 The longer we hesitate over certain steps 
 that it is incumbent on us to take, the 
 more unwillinfy do we become to take that 
 'premier pas ; but, in visiting the dear 
 old Rectory, I was well rewarded for my 
 pains, and my husband found a very con- 
 genial spirit in the new Rector. He hap- 
 pened to be a single man, and as his house 
 was large, his Curate had the option of
 
 Edith's engagement. 187 
 
 staring it with liim. That is, the Rector 
 gave Mr. Mostyn certain apartments in his 
 house, and the Curate bestowed as much 
 of his time and society on Dr. Temple as 
 they found mutually pleasant.
 
 188 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 T"! THEN we first became acquainted with 
 * ' Dr. Temple, Mr. Mostyn was not 
 "his Curate ; he did not appear amongst us 
 i}ill after the Eector had been estabHshed 
 two or three years, and had won his way 
 in most instances to the hearts of his 
 parishioners. 
 
 Dr. Temple had another Curate, whose 
 services he retained after the new one had 
 taken up his abode wdth him in the old 
 Rectory house. It was generally under- 
 stood that this proceeding of taking a 
 second Curate arose from motives of 
 friendship, and not of necessity. The 
 Rector was an active man himself, and the 
 senior Curate a remarkably devoted and
 
 Edith's engagement. 189 
 
 hard-working parish priest, and I think 
 Mr. Mason was rather disposed to look 
 upon the introduction of a fellow-worker 
 as an act of supererogation on the part of 
 his pastor and master. 
 
 Mr. Edgar Mostyn, we were told, was 
 the second son of a certain Sir Robert 
 Mostyn, a large landed proprietor in a dis- 
 tant county, an old and valued friend of 
 our Rector's ; that this second son was, 
 according to the family custom, dedicated 
 to the Church from his birth, the young 
 man's inclinations not being in any way con- 
 sulted, but solel}!^ for the reason that there 
 was a very large family living awaiting 
 the acceptance of the said youth, when he 
 should be old enough to avail himself of 
 such a liberal provision. To my husband 
 the Rector had briefly hinted that the 
 young man was not particularly inclined 
 towards the Church, and that his ideas 
 and feelings on the subject were somewhat 
 unsettled ; but he had always been brought
 
 190 MRS. grey's REMIiXISCENCES. 
 
 up to consider it as his vocation, that he 
 had a good deal of talent and intellect, and 
 had taken a high degree at college, and 
 was in every way well fitted for the posi- 
 tion he was destined to fill ; so it was 
 hoped, by placing him as a resident Curate 
 with Dr. Temple, all scruples would be 
 overcome, and his inclination for clerical 
 life assured by seeing it so happily exem- 
 plified in the Eector's life. 
 
 Thus far we were initiated into the his- 
 tory of Mr. Edgar Mostyn before he made 
 his appearance in Castleford. That event 
 had, however, been delaj^ed for nearly a 
 year after the first announcement of its 
 approach, for Mr. Mostyn had elected to 
 travel for a year after his ordination, and 
 before undertaking his first curacy. 
 
 It appeared that Sir Eobert Mostyn was 
 a perfect autocrat in his own family, and 
 one whose will had never been called in 
 question ; but having gained his point 
 with his younger son (he had but two,
 
 Edith's enCtAge]\ient. 191 
 
 thougli several daughters), lie so far con- 
 ceded a point as to make Edgar a liberal 
 allowance for travelling expenses, and only 
 stipulated tliat his absence should not ex- 
 ceed a year. It was at the expiration of 
 this time that Mr. Mostyn came to Dr. 
 Temple's, and entered upon the duties of 
 second Curate in the parish. 
 
 At that time Edith Fielding was absent. 
 She was staying with one of her sisters, 
 and, from one cause or another, did not 
 return home, till after our acquaintance 
 with Mr. Mostyn had dated some three 
 months back. I cannot say in that time 
 we had made any progress towards friend- 
 ship, though constantly meeting, both at 
 the Rectory, where my husband and my- 
 self were always welcome guests, and also 
 at our own house, which was most sociably 
 frequented by the friendly Rector. Some- 
 times he came accompanied by his Curate- 
 guest — and occasionally alone ; but I think 
 Mr. Mostyn liked talking to Dr. Grey, and
 
 192 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 was sure of meeting in his house all the 
 best society the place afforded. 
 
 Though the young Curate was peculiarly 
 reserved, there was that perfect ease of a 
 well-bred man in his intercourse with others, 
 which was sure to please. He was also 
 handsome, with refined features and expres- 
 sion, and these personal advantages, as well 
 as the prestige of his future position, won 
 for him golden opinions, at least from all 
 the feminine population of our town. I 
 confess to having been interested in no 
 ordinary degree with our new acquaintance, 
 though, as I have said, we made but little 
 progress in our social intercourse. He 
 appeared to me for the most part to shun 
 women's society. I never saw him talking 
 to girls, even when the brightest and pret- 
 tiest of our county belles were to be found in 
 the few town houses which they favoured 
 with their presence. He had, besides, the 
 entree of all the neighbouring houses in the 
 country, but seemed to care very little for
 
 Edith's engagement. 198 
 
 tlie privilege of entering into the society lie 
 might find there ; he appeared to look Tvith 
 stoical endurance upon life and its pleasures, 
 as if he had but little part amongst them, 
 but had committed himself to the fulfilment 
 of certain duties which, however distaste- 
 ful to him, he was bound in honour to 
 perform, and thus he wound himself up 
 each weary day to follow out the advice 
 and suggestions of his Rector. 
 
 It was at our house that Edith Fielding 
 first met Edgar Mostyn. We happened to 
 be a very small party, only ourselves, an 
 old friend of mine, and Dr. Temple with his 
 new Curate, besides Edith. I had asked 
 two other young people, a brother and 
 sister, friends of Edith's, to join our little 
 dinner-party. Late in the day they sent 
 an excuse, so we were reduced to six. Of 
 course we four elder ones paired off, and 
 the two younger ones were unavoidably 
 thrown together. 
 
 Edith was looking very pretty, but paler 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 MRS. geet's eeminiscences. 
 
 than usual. She had heard nothing about 
 our new guest, and no doubt merely looked 
 upon him as Dr. Temple's " second Curate," 
 and perhaps felt that, as a stranger in her 
 native place, she was bound to take the 
 initiative, and make pleasant conversation 
 to the new-comer. 
 
 The great charm of Edith's manner was 
 its perfect simplicity, with a natural ease 
 and grace that had its origin in her entire 
 forgetfulness of self, and absence of all 
 consciousness, or any effort to please. It 
 came as naturally to Edith to do so as for 
 a bird to sing, or a bud to unfold. I 
 fancied that Mr. Mostyn felt the genial in- 
 fluence of the tone and manner of his new 
 acquaintance, and that he watched with less 
 of his usual listless endurance for the rais- 
 ing of those long dark lashes and the quick 
 look of intelligence that followed some re- 
 marks he addressed to her. I observed a 
 look of interest, and even a rare and pleas- 
 ant smile lighting up his countenance at
 
 Edith's engagement. 195 
 
 some little quick answer from Editli as 
 their conversation and acquaintance pro- 
 gressed. 
 
 When we came into the drawing-room 
 again, my friend Miss Lawrence compli- 
 mented Edith in havino- animated the 
 handsome statue, as she was pleased to 
 designate our new Curate, but at the same 
 time remarking she was afraid she found 
 the saturnine young clergyman a very dull 
 companion, after all the gay people and 
 pleasant young officers she must have met 
 when staying with her sister and Captain 
 Balling. To this observation Edith only 
 replied simply : 
 
 " No, I did not find Mr. Mostyn (that 
 is his name, is it not ?) at all dull ; he 
 talked about his travels in different places, 
 and a great deal about Spain, where he 
 has been spending some months. It was 
 a pleasant change, after hearing so much 
 of military matters for weeks past — not 
 but that I thought it all very nice and gay 
 
 o2
 
 196 MRS. GEEy's EEMINISCEJsTES. 
 
 when I first went, but one gets tired of 
 the same thing when you hear it morning, 
 noon, and night." 
 
 " Ah," returned Miss Lawrence, '' a great 
 deal depends upon the person who says 
 the things." 
 
 " Indeed," pleaded Edith, '' if they all 
 talk in the same way, and on the same 
 subjects, it makes all the talkers alike — at 
 least, I found it so ; but nevertheless I was 
 veryhappy there, though glad to come back." 
 
 " Then it is to be hoped, Edith, as you 
 have had enough of balls and reviews, and 
 military movements of various sorts for 
 some time to come, that you will find some- 
 thing else to amuse you here. Perhaps now 
 you will take to school-feasts and concerts, 
 and such quiet clerical recreations, which 
 I daresay your new friend, Mr. Mostyn, 
 would recommend you to patronise." 
 
 " Oh, no," rejoined Edith, laughing ; '' I 
 did try him on that topic at first, and 
 asked if Dr. Temple had given his usual
 
 Edith's engagement. 197 
 
 scliool treat, but Mr. Mostyn only said he 
 believed be bad, thougb, having forgotten 
 the day and the occasion, he bad gone a long 
 ramble into the country ; but it did not 
 much signify, as Mr. Mason was there to 
 supply all bis deficiencies, and possibly in 
 time he mieht understand all about such 
 entertainments, if it was needful to give 
 them ; and then he went on to speak of 
 village fetes in different countries, and their 
 dances and amusements, and enjoyment 
 of outdoor life, and in that way we got 
 to Spain, and I found travelling there so 
 pleasant that I only came back to this 
 country when Mrs. Grey got up, and we 
 left the dining-room." 
 
 I was glad to find, from her careless 
 chatter, that my little friend had found 
 her dinner companion so pleasant, and 
 suspected that the pleasure had not been 
 entirely confined to herself. This idea 
 was strengthened after the gentlemen 
 joined us (which they did very soon), and
 
 198 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 Mr. Mostyn went at once and took a va- 
 cant seat by Edith, and talked on quietly 
 to lier for some time ; after that we liad 
 music, and she sang some of the touching 
 little ballads her father loved so well, and 
 Mr. Mostyn, in return, gave us a Spanish 
 song or two, and altogether our evening 
 passed quickly and happily away. 
 
 Well, that was the first time of meeting, 
 and after that Edith was constantly meet- 
 ing Mr. Mostyn. I soon saw how it was 
 on her side, for a new light had come into 
 her soft grey eyes, with their beautiful 
 long lashes, and a spirit of deep happiness 
 seemed to settle down upon her whole 
 being. It was the first dawn of love, 
 deep, earnest, and true as ever warmed a 
 girl's pure heart. 
 
 I felt very glad for Edith, but at the 
 same time anxious as to the gentleman's 
 sentiments towards her. 1 was sure Mr. 
 Mostyn liked her extremely, and found
 
 Edith's engagement. ] 99 
 
 her very superior, or thought she was, to 
 all the other girls he saw at that time. 
 Sometimes I feared that his attentions 
 were more those of a brother than a lover. 
 
 Her parents were charmed with what 
 they saw of Mr. Mostyn, for he unbent to 
 them as he did to few others, and they 
 could desire nothing better for their dar- 
 ling than that she should become the wife 
 of Edgar Mostyn. They were aware that 
 a living was waiting for him ; it was only 
 held by a friend of the family till he should 
 be able to claim it. It was very valuable, 
 being nearly two thousand a year, besides 
 a charming residence and grounds, close 
 to the family seat, and ensuring a full par- 
 ticipation in all the pleasures and prestige 
 of such a position. 
 
 Mr. Fielding said but little on the sub- 
 ject, though no doubt he thought a great 
 deal ; but Mrs. Fielding was less reticent, 
 and often and often was I the recipient of
 
 200 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 her confidences on the occasion, witli all 
 the fluctuating hopes and fears that al- 
 ternately agitated her maternal heart. 
 Sometimes she would ask me lohen did I 
 think Mr. Mostyn would actually propose 
 to Edith ? Did I think he w^as waiting till 
 lie came into possession of his living, and 
 was leaving Castleford ? Had I any idea 
 whether Sir Robert was aware of his 
 son's attachment ? No doubt Dr. Temple 
 knew all about it, and had possibly told 
 him. 
 
 To none of these questions and surmises 
 could I return any satisfying answer, so 
 I only added my own wonderment to Mrs. 
 Fielding's, and discussed the ma,tfcer in 
 whatever light she saw it for the time 
 being. There was no doubt Mr. Mostyn 
 did care for Edith, but to what extent or 
 to what degree I could not tell. I saw she 
 had perfect trust and confidence in him, 
 and Edith, who had never entertained a 
 shade of preference for any man before,
 
 Edith's engagement. 201 
 
 had, I felt sure, given up her whole heart 
 unreservedly to his keeping. 
 
 I had plenty of opportunities of observ- 
 ing them together. We went so often to 
 the Rectory, whilst he came to us constant- 
 ly from thence, and no one could doubt 
 that a very strong attraction brought Edgar 
 Mostyn into Edith's company so often. 
 After a time I saw he was changed — as every 
 man heartily in love must be for a time to 
 all around him — he was less cold and apa- 
 thetic, he entered more into the common 
 cares and interests of humanity, and when 
 with Edith I observed his whole counten- 
 ance softened and altered, whilst he seemed 
 quite absorbed as he looked at or listened 
 to her. His stern look melted away, and 
 then I fully believed he loved the girl as 
 she deserved to be loved. There were other 
 times when he^ appeared to me to be fighting 
 against himself, endeavouring to guard his 
 words and looks from becoming warmer or 
 softer than those he would have bestowed
 
 202 MRS. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 on a beloved sister; but still he sought 
 Edith on all occasions, and never, when 
 she was present, for a moment devoted 
 himself to any other woman. 
 
 I do not think she perceived the varia- 
 tion in his moods, for whether more or less 
 engrossed, still she always seemed satisfied 
 that he sought no other than herself, and 
 that his looks were constantly turned to- 
 wards her, even if he talked to her less than 
 usual. 
 
 Things remained in much the same state 
 for a year after the first introduction of the 
 pair whom I could not help regarding as 
 lovers, though there was as yet no out- 
 ward acknowledgment of the fact to others. 
 
 What passed between themselves at 
 that time I cannot tell, enough it seemed 
 to content a simple-minded girl like Edith 
 that all was right and fair on the part of 
 the man she so utterly loved and trusted. 
 
 Edith had become a changed person. 
 She was absorbed in her love, She cared
 
 Edith's engagement. 203 
 
 little for anything that had formerly pleas- 
 ed and amused her. Edgar never went to 
 balls or places of public amusement ; he 
 said he did not consider them wrong, but 
 it was a wearisome employment of time to 
 him, therefore he did not frequent them. 
 After that, Mrs. Fielding had no cause to 
 complain of her duties as a chaperon — they 
 were all over and gone. Edith said she 
 had had enough of gaiety, and cared no 
 more for the things she had so dearly 
 loved but one short year before ! 
 
 I loved the girl, and yet I was as nothing 
 then to her ; but I trembled for her future. 
 What if the love so intensely felt and 
 lavishly bestowed should be thrown back 
 upon herself? What would become of 
 the poor child whose whole heart and soul 
 was now cast upon that one hope in life ?
 
 204 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 rilHTJS we went on through that year. 
 -^ Easter came round again, with its 
 peculiar duties to be performed, and then 
 the annual ball that marked its close. 
 
 Edith had now passed her nineteenth 
 birthday, but what an altered person had 
 she become in the last year. No talk of 
 balls now, no hopes or fears for anything 
 that was not connected with Edgar Mostyn. 
 One day she came to me, as she was in the 
 constant habit of doing, but looking in- 
 tensely miserable, — it was the morning of 
 the ball, — and she asked me if I was going. 
 
 I told her yes, and asked her if she were 
 not going also. A quick and hasty gesture 
 of denial was her only answer. I said, play-
 
 Edith's exgagement. 205 
 
 full}^, — ''Cannot we persuade Dr. Temple 
 and Mr. Mostyn to join our party ?" 
 
 Edith made no reply, but after a minute's 
 silence, whispered, 
 
 " Do you not know he is going away ?" 
 
 I had heard some talk of the probability 
 of Mr. Mostyn's leaving after Easter, but 
 had never heard it either from himself or 
 his Eector, so I answered, 
 
 '' I think if he — Mr. Mostyn— is really 
 going he would have told us of it himself." 
 
 '' He has told me. I saw him this morn- 
 ing. He is going the end of the week." 
 
 '' Well ?" said I, expecting some further 
 revelation, but none came, and the poor 
 girl was weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Surely he will not leave you so," I ex- 
 claimed, with sudden indignation. She 
 only answered, 
 
 " He will do nothing but what is right." 
 
 "But, my dear child, surely, surely — he 
 must — he will " 
 
 I was very incoherent, for I knew so
 
 206 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 little, and yet felt so much, but Edith came 
 to me and whispered, 
 
 *' Please do not say a word against him 
 — no one knows " 
 
 I do not know what further she might 
 have said, as my husband just then came 
 into the room, and Edith, fearing to face 
 him with her tell-tale face, slipped away and 
 was out of the house before I had missed her. 
 Dr. Grey came to ask me to visit one of his 
 poor patients, and after we had walked 
 there, and stayed some little time, we were 
 on our road home, when, coming in sight 
 of the Rectory, he suddenly observed he 
 wanted to ask the Rector a question, and 
 would I mind coming in with him for a 
 few moments ? 
 
 Of course I was ready to do so, and 
 we were admitted. My husband proceed- 
 ed at once to Dr. Temple's study, whilst I 
 was shown into the dininof-room on the 
 opposite side of the hall, and found the 
 room already occupied by Mr. Mostyn,
 
 Edith's engagement. 207 
 
 wlio was busily engaged in writing when I 
 entered. I begged him not to disturb 
 himself, but continue his writing, whilst I 
 said I would be glad to look at the news- 
 paper w^hich I saw l3^ing by him on the 
 table. I advanced to take it, to save him 
 the trouble of getting up, and whilst I 
 held out my hand to take it, my eye in- 
 voluntarily fell on an envelope already di- 
 rected, and close to the paper. Mr. Mos- 
 tyn followed the direction of my look, and 
 then (it was addressed to Edith) raised his 
 eyes quickly to mine, saying, in an eager, 
 impetuous manner, 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Grey, you see I am writing 
 to Edith, to bid her good-bye. You may 
 have heard that I am going away?" 
 
 " Yes — she told me so," I answered, 
 half wondering at the change in his man- 
 ner from his usual guarded self-possession 
 and reserve ; he seemed, however, strangely 
 moved as he continued, as if partly to him- 
 self and me — " Yes, it is time indeed to
 
 208 MRS. geey's eeminiscenoes. 
 
 part now ; and do you blame me for it, for I 
 know you love her ? Forgive my troubling 
 you with this question." 
 
 I was so astounded at this sudden and 
 unlooked-for approach to confidence on 
 Mr. Mostyn's part that I could hardly 
 rally my thoughts enough to express, or 
 give utterance to those that crowded into 
 my mind. So I stood facing the young 
 man with my hand on the paper, whilst he 
 looked up, eager and impatient for my 
 answer. At last I said, 
 
 "You must be more explicit, Mr. Mos- 
 tyn, before I can say whether T consider 
 you to blame or not. May I ask you 
 whether you are leaving for good ? and 
 what Edith has to do with your inten- 
 tions ?" 
 
 ''Nothing — nothing, poor darling! It 
 has been long settled, and now the time 
 has come, and I thought to tell her of it — 
 and I did so." 
 
 ^'Well?" said I, breathlessly, for I felt
 
 Edith's engagement. 209 
 
 a strange interest in these two young 
 people, who were really nothing to me. 
 
 " Well, then," he returned, speaking 
 with visible effort, '' I went to see Edith, 
 but when I told her the bare fact, I saw 
 — and perceived for the first time all that 
 that fact comprised for her — and in becom- 
 ing aware of her feelings, I ascertained 
 my own also, and the extent of the sacrifice 
 that is demanded of me." 
 
 I looked at the agitated young man with 
 intense surprise. 
 
 *' I cannot understand you in any way, 
 Mr. Mostyn. If, as you say, you and Edith 
 Fielding are attached to each other — is it 
 not what you mean to say ?" 
 
 He did not speak, only slightly bend- 
 ing his head in affirmation, and then 
 looking at me to proceed, w^hich I did, 
 saying, 
 
 " Well, then, if you are fortunate enough 
 to have won her heart, and love her in 
 return, what do you mean by talking of 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 MRS. grey's eemtnisoences. 
 
 * sacrifice ' ? Surely no one could object to 
 Edith lierself." 
 
 Here he interrupted me, saying vehe- 
 mently, 
 
 " Oh, no — oh, no ; she is only too good 
 and perfect for me." 
 
 " Well, then," I continued, ^' if she and 
 her family do not think so, or yours object 
 in any way, I cannot see what cause you 
 can have for all this misery, unless, indeed, 
 you have, perhaps — " and then I hesitated, 
 but he made a gesture for me to proceed 
 so I concluded hastily — " entered into some 
 other engagement." 
 
 ''Ah, there it is !" he exclaimed, with a 
 sigh so deep, I pitied him from the bottom 
 of my heart ; and as he remained silent, T 
 continued, now more sure of my ground — 
 
 '' This is indeed an unfortunate state of 
 things ; but oh, Mr. Mostyn, why did not 
 that deter you from endeavouring to win 
 the affections of such a girl as Edith ?" 
 
 '' I never intended to do so, nor dreamt
 
 Edith's engagement. 211 
 
 of loving her in any other way than as a 
 charming sister when we first became ac- 
 quainted ; but the gentle fascination stole 
 upon me unawares. She is so utterly un- 
 like all other girls — so simple, so sweet, 
 so thoughtless of self. Oh, why — oh, 
 why " 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Mostyn, if, as you say, 
 you have already met with another to 
 whom you are engaged, it is unworthy of 
 you to descant on the perfections of the 
 girl you have so unhappily deceived into a 
 belief of your attachment to herself." I 
 hardly knew what to sa}^, and I felt angry 
 at his presuming to extol Edith whilst his 
 troth was plighted to another. Mr. Mos- 
 tyii looked at me with a somewhat per- 
 plexed expression, so I finished my speech 
 by saying plainly — "As you are engaged 
 to another lady, the less you say about 
 Miss Fielding — and to me, her friend — the 
 better. I do not desire to hear more." 
 
 I was then turning to leave the table, 
 
 p2
 
 212 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 when Mr. Mostyn laid liis hand on mine^ 
 which still held the newspaper, and ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 '' Oh, indeed, Mrs. Grey, but you must 
 hear me. Pray excuse my importunity,, 
 but I wish you to know that you utterly 
 and entirely mistake my meaning and my 
 feelings in every way." 
 
 I was conscious of a little throb of joy 
 as the young man said this, thinking and 
 hoping that it was not all over yet with 
 my poor little Edith's prospects, so I seat- 
 ed myself on a chair close by, and pre- 
 pared to hear what more Mr. Mostyn 
 might be pleased to communicate ; and 
 seeing by my change of countenance and 
 position that I was ready to hear, he con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " The engagement I alluded to is of a 
 very different nature from that you imagine; 
 it is no earthly one, but you know I am in 
 the Church, and (it is needless now to say) 
 I have been compelled to enter for family
 
 Edith's engagement. 213 
 
 reasons, but haying given my consent 
 most unwillingly, I am prepared to do my 
 very best in the unfortunate position in 
 which I am placed." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," I murmured ; 
 and then added — " and I am sure you 
 cannot do better than take such a wife as 
 I believe you have chosen in Edith to aid 
 and help you in doing that very best.'' 
 
 " That is your view of a very important 
 question, but, unhappily, it is not mine. 
 jSI'o, there can be no wife for me. I advo- 
 cate the celibacy of the clergy." 
 
 *' Good heavens, Mr. Mostyn !" I ex- 
 claimed, startled out of all self-possession, 
 '' surely I have not mistaken that you are 
 a Protestant?" 
 
 " No, I am not a Protestant, as you 
 suppose, but a Catholic priest of the English 
 Church." 
 
 " Holding," I exclaimed, indignantly, 
 " Roman Catholic views and tenets !" 
 
 " I hold such views as my conscience
 
 214 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 approves and tliose I esteem most, consider 
 best and most reasonable, and I maintain 
 tliat a married clergyman must be absorb- 
 ed in eartbly love for a human creature, 
 besides all engrossed with family cares, 
 and pains, and pleasures, instead of feeling 
 free to dedicate himself body and soul to 
 the profession he has entered." 
 
 But I will not pursue the long conver- 
 sation and argument that this declaration 
 of Mr. Mostyn's views and sentiments led 
 to. At last he brought forward in his 
 support our good friend the Rector, who, 
 he said, entertained similar views to his 
 own, and then he desired me to look at 
 his blameless, happy life, and entire devo- 
 tion to others, and say if his path must 
 not be the right one. 
 
 I only answered — 
 
 ''For him^ perhaps, it may, but not for 
 you, who have to answer for the destroyed 
 happiness of the girl you love, and whose 
 heart you have won, and perhaps broken."
 
 Edith's engagement. 215 
 
 When I said that, without effort or pre- 
 meditation, I was pleased to see a relent- 
 ing expression steal over his countenance, 
 and he looked at me eagerly, saying, 
 
 '* Ah, if I could but think that in any 
 way wrong could be made right !" 
 
 " Well," said I, " suppose you consult 
 Dr. Temple himself, and, perhaps, confide 
 your doubts and scruples to Edith herself, 
 and be guided by what they both say and 
 think." 
 
 " Dr. Temple, ?/^.9," he answered; "I will 
 speak to and consult him^ but not Edith 
 — she knows nothing of my doubts and 
 fears, and if — if ever I could bring my- 
 self to feel I could or dared to ask her 
 to share my fate, I must have no re- 
 membrance of such scruples coming be- 
 tween her and me to disturb the sweet 
 serenity of her pure mind. No, she knows 
 nothing as yet, but if I decide on abiding 
 by my first conviction, she shall know all 
 — not unless."
 
 216 MRS. GBEY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 And there our conference ended. I 
 was satisfied that there was a softening 
 influence at work in the young man's 
 heart, and glad that he should volunteer 
 to seek counsel on the momentous subject. 
 I only hoped most fervently that Dr. 
 Temple's advice might be such as could be 
 desired by those most deeply interested. 
 
 I hastened home, anxious to hear my 
 husband's opinion, and to relate all that 
 had passed. He heard me attentively, and 
 with a kindly interest, for little Edith 
 Fielding was a special favourite of his, 
 and he had long lived on terms of friendly 
 intimacy with her father and all the family, 
 and he was aware that we all looked 
 forward to Edith's probable engagement 
 to, and marriage with, Mr. Mostyn as a 
 very desirable event, and one in which 
 the girl's own happiness was vitally con- 
 cerned. At the close of my narrative, I 
 asked if he had ever suspected that Mr. 
 Mostyn entertained peculiar and unsuit-
 
 EDITH S ENGAGEMENT. 217 
 
 able views for a clergyman of the Estab- 
 lished Church. 
 
 Dr. Grey replied he had seldom approach- 
 ed the subject with the young man — he had 
 indeed always found him peculiarly reserved 
 on that topic and on all that concerned him- 
 self personally — but he remembered that 
 Dr. Temple, when expecting Edgar Mostyu, 
 had said something about his father's 
 anxiety on the subject of his son's clerical 
 views, and had expressed his hopes that a 
 residence with his old friend would be 
 beneficial in every way to him. 
 
 "But," said J, "Mr. Mostyn talks of 
 Dr. Temple's entertaining similar views to 
 himself, adducing, in proof, that he has 
 never married." 
 
 "Mostyn states an undeniable fact — but 
 he draws inferences from it which are by 
 no means justified by actual circumstances. 
 Dr. Temple is, we all know, a single man, 
 but I have reason to believe that he would 
 gladly have been happily married long ere
 
 218 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 this — but the lad}^ to whom he was attach- 
 ed died soon after their engagement, and 
 I believe he has never since sought or met 
 with anyone to replace her in his affections ; 
 but he has told me he finds sufficient inter- 
 est in his church and work to occupy his 
 time and fill his heart. No doubt, as he 
 seldom talks of himself, or his own affairs, 
 his feelings and motives may have been 
 differently construed." 
 
 " I am thankful to hear all this," I said ; 
 '' but I fear we have a very decided charac- 
 ter to deal with in Edgar Mostyn, and if 
 he has imbibed wrong notions, it w^ill be 
 difficult to persuade him of their fallacy." 
 
 '' I hardly know," returned my husband. 
 "I should scarcely call Mostyn a man of 
 great decision of character; he is rather 
 rigid and unyielding at times, but, as I 
 have said, we have seldom discussed sub- 
 jects of peculiar interest. I remember, 
 now, Temple spoke of his having spent 
 some time in Spain, and formed a great
 
 Edith's engagement. 219 
 
 friendship with a family there of the very 
 oldest nobility and of the most intolerant 
 Roman Catholic principles, but he said he 
 trusted the impression they had made on 
 his mind was wearing away, and lamented 
 that it had been very unfavourable to the 
 career he was destined to run in his future 
 life as an English country clergyman ; in 
 fact, I should say Dr. Temple regarded his 
 new Curate as a young man of an imagin- 
 ative disposition, and as yet of very un- 
 settled, and, it may be, unsound opinions 
 in many respects. I think he considers 
 that Mostyn requires a good deal of sound 
 treatment — much as I should recommend 
 to my fanciful patients a course of air, 
 exercise, and wholesome diversion. You 
 need have no fear that his Rector will 
 encourage any morbid fancies, or un- 
 healthy ascetic mortifications." 
 
 And with this opinion I was fain to rest 
 content, till I should hear more of the sub- 
 ject from the parties most deeply concerned.
 
 220 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 T HAD not long to wait; towards the 
 -■- afternoon of the next day a note was 
 brought to me, which on opening, I found 
 to my surprise was from Edgar Mostyn. 
 I had in the meantime seen nothing of 
 Edith Fielding or any of her family. I 
 hastily opened the letter, rather surprised 
 that, whether for weal or woe, the young 
 man should have sent me the communica- 
 tion. The contents were as follows : 
 
 '' Deae Mrs. Geey, 
 
 " You will forgive my troubling 
 you with this note, but the kind interest 
 you took in my affairs yesterday makes me 
 desirous that you should become acquaint-
 
 Edith's engagement. ^ 221 
 
 ed with their present position from myself. 
 " In a few words I must tell you that 
 Edith Fielding and I are engaged. It seems 
 strange to me to write the words, after 
 having for so long intended to lead a 
 single life. Had I never met with her, no 
 doubt I should have carried out my resolu- 
 tion, and even now I adhere to the belief 
 that my former determination was founded 
 in reason and religion. Still I break no 
 covenant in entering into the engagement 
 I have formed, and which I am aware the 
 ' Protestant' Church sanctions and approves 
 — so I will say no more about my doubts 
 and difficulties. Had my own happiness 
 aloiie been at stake, I would cheerfully 
 have sacrificed it to follow what I believe 
 to be the higher road to all that is right ; 
 but as I have heedlessly and selfishly im- 
 perilled that of another — of one who is, and 
 ever will be, under all circumstances, inex- 
 pressibly dear to me, and who deserves 
 every consideration at my hands — I yield
 
 222 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 myself to the occasion. She loves me, and 
 it shall be the study of my future life to 
 make her happy, and I only pray it may 
 not be at the ;price of my soul ! 
 
 "Forgive my having thus far trespassed 
 on your indulgence, in confiding to you 
 the reasons which have prompted me to 
 enter on this momentous step. The con- 
 flicting sentiments which have accompanied 
 the resolve are known to few — least of all 
 to my future wife. May I ask you kindly 
 to respect my secret, and believe me al- 
 ways, 
 
 " Yours gratefully, 
 
 ''Edgar Mostyn." 
 
 It was a strange letter, and not alto- 
 gether satisfactory. However, I quite 
 agreed with the writer that, now he was 
 engaged to be married, it was wise to let 
 all his former scruples be buried in ob- 
 livion, and, most of all, never to let Edith 
 suspect that Edgar Mostyn's proposals
 
 Edith's engagement. 223 
 
 were made more in consideration for her 
 feelings than his own, or how great a 
 sacrifice of principle the concession in- 
 volved on the part of her future husband. 
 
 I was naturally very anxious to see 
 Edith, now that the fact of her engagement 
 was a settled thing. I almost wondered that 
 she had not come to announce the event to 
 me, who had partaken so largely of her 
 confidences and anxiety during the past 
 year. However, whilst I was musing, and 
 meditating a walk to the Fieldings' house, 
 Edith's mother came to see me, and to tell 
 the happy news. I never saw satisfaction 
 more plainly depicted than on that mother- 
 ly, beaming countenance, as she entered 
 the room, and taking both my hands in 
 hers, exclaimed, 
 
 " Congratulate me, dear Mrs. Grey ! I 
 am the happiest woman in the world ! 
 Dear little Edie is actually engaged to be 
 married to Edgar Mostyn ! He proposed 
 to her yesterday afternoon, and she seems
 
 224 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 quite overwhelmed with happiness — that 
 is, she looks almost stunned — as if she had 
 never expected it. Foolish child ! — as if 
 we had not all seen long ago what his 
 admiration of her must come to ! I am 
 sure you saw it, as |)lainly as any of us." 
 
 '* Yes, indeed. No one could doubt that 
 Mr. Mostyn liked and admired your dear 
 child. But I must go and congratulate 
 Edith myself. I will go back with you." 
 
 So I went back with the mother, and 
 saw the daughter. Edith said very little. 
 She was, as her mother said, hardly her- 
 self yet ; she could not realize the fact that 
 she was Edgar's promised bride. She 
 whispered to me, 
 
 '' It seems so strange that we should 
 really belong to each other for all our 
 lives ! — that he, who is so superior, should 
 care to have me for his constant companion. 
 Oh ! dear Mrs. Grey, what can I do to make 
 myself in any way worthy of such a lot ?" 
 
 I tried to combat this extreme humihty
 
 Edith's engagement. 225 
 
 by laughing at her, and observing that that 
 •was not the right way to accept her present 
 position. She might very reasonably con- 
 sider that in promising to become Mr. 
 Mostyn's wife, she gave quite as much as 
 she received, and she must not make him 
 conceited by letting him see she looked 
 upon him as so very superior. But Edith 
 was neither to be persuaded of that, nor to 
 be induced to see her betrothed in any other 
 light but that in which her exalted imagina- 
 tion chose to place him. Soon after the 
 lover himself made his appearance, and I 
 was satisfied to see them together, and ob- 
 serve the brightness he brought wath him. 
 
 There was a slightly conscious look on 
 his face as he greeted me on entering the 
 room, but I left him in no doubt as to the 
 sincerity of my congratulations, and my real 
 pleasure in seeing him there as the future 
 husband of my favourite, Edith Fielding. 
 
 There was no doubt that Mr. Mostyn w as 
 very fond of Edith — deeply attached to her 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MRS. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 — and yet, after a time, as her accepted 
 lover, be seemed almost (if that could be 
 possible) to feel himself in an awkward 
 position, as if he was playing a part quite 
 uncongenial to his nature, and even at 
 variance with his feelings ; in fact, he was 
 far more natural as a lover, when he was 
 all unconscious of being so, than now it 
 was his duty and privilege to enact the 
 part. At least, this was the impression 
 his attentions to Edith in public gave me. 
 'No doubt, when he and Edith were by 
 themselves, they would both fall into a 
 more natural and happy understanding. 
 
 Mr. Fielding expressed himself perfectly 
 satisfied with his little daughter's choice, 
 and received Mr. Mostyn's proposals with 
 honest and hearty approbation. So far 
 all went well, but Mr. Fielding made one 
 proviso, that nothing should be considered 
 settled until Sir Robert Mostyn had been 
 written to, and his full consent obtained. 
 The desired letter was written, and an-
 
 Edith's engagement. 227 
 
 swered without loss of time, conveying Sir 
 Robert's full consent, and showing an ear- 
 nest desire to become acquainted with his 
 future daughter-in-law and her family. 
 
 I suspect that Sir Eobert had already- 
 received a hint or two from his friend, Dr. 
 Temple, with sundry annotations and re- 
 flections, which might cause the father's 
 consent to be the more readily bestowed. 
 No doubt the accounts, too, of Edith and 
 her family were also such as to make the 
 father rejoice that his wayward son had 
 chosen so wisely and so well, and to stimu- 
 late his desire to become acquainted with 
 the girl of whom his friend spoke so highly. 
 
 Sir Robert proposed coming to Dr. 
 Temple's for an introductiou, and Lady 
 Mostyn would have gladly accompanied 
 him, but she was an invalid, and then on 
 the point of leaving home for the benefit 
 of her health. Edgar was almost agitated 
 "when he announced this intention on his 
 father's part ; he came occasionally in those 
 
 q2
 
 228 MEs. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 days to see and talk to me, sometimes of 
 Edith, and often of other matters ; but the 
 old subject that had brought us so inti- 
 mately acquainted was entirely dropped as 
 far as discussion went, though I could per- 
 ceive it was rarely absent from the young 
 clergyman's thoughts, and could trace a 
 constant struggle in his mind, as if he 
 sought to justify himself to himself. 
 
 When he and Edith came, as they often 
 did, together, he would, as it were, retrace his 
 steps to the old days, when they were all- 
 unconscious lovers ; he would make her 
 sing the same songs, and talk of all things 
 that interested them both in those happy 
 days ; but, strange to say, I never heard 
 him dwelling on the future, or descanting 
 on the home and the happiness that awaited 
 them together in their future life. I fancy 
 Edith felt and observed this, though she 
 would not for the world have given her 
 thoughts a tangible form by clothing them 
 in speech. No word ever passed her lips
 
 Edith's engagement. 229 
 
 that did not denote perfect confidence Id, as 
 well as devoted love for, tlie man she had 
 cliosen. I dared not even ask lier if lie 
 had described her future home to her, and 
 whether she did not long to see it. She 
 had grown very grave — quite unlike the 
 Edith of seventeen Summers, who was as 
 bright then as a sunbeam. 
 
 I could hardly tell what it was that made 
 her so serious, for the course of her love 
 ran, to all appearance, as smoothly as pos- 
 sible. Everyone smiled upon her and her 
 lover, and said how well she had chosen, 
 how happy her future lot would be with 
 him ; and, more than all, she loved the man 
 she had chosen with an intensity of affec- 
 tion that made her almost indifferent to 
 every other person and thing that crossed 
 her daily path. Love with Edith was a 
 very serious thing, and her intended hus- 
 band took all very seriously; he evidently 
 looked upon life and its deepest interests 
 with more fear than pleasure, his great
 
 230 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 dread apparently being tliat lie should be- 
 come wholly engrossed in them, and in his 
 affection for one fair loving creature. 
 
 There was no spirit of cheerfulness in 
 their wooing, and though Edgar was always 
 ready to take part, and even affect an 
 interest in the Fielding family concerns, 
 it was evident he did not amalgamate 
 with them, or throw himself heartily into 
 the pursuits and interests that occupied 
 his future wife's family. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Fielding, in spite of her in- 
 tense admiration — mixed with a little awe 
 — for her son-in-law elect, did now and 
 then express to me a wish that he were 
 a trifle more " merry," and would laugh 
 at the things that amused them all. 
 
 One of the married daughters, the young- 
 est, Emily, with her husband, who was a 
 clergyman, with a small living in the north, 
 was asked to come and stay with them, as 
 it was thought they would be particularly 
 acceptable acquaintances to their future
 
 Edith's engagement. 231 
 
 brother-in-law. Mr. Mostyn receiyed their 
 kindly advances with perfect friendliness, 
 but Mr. Hay ward declared he never ad- 
 vanced one step further on the road to 
 intimacy; he was himself a remarkably 
 cheerful man, excellent in his profession, 
 and devoted to his family, but entirely 
 wanting in the extreme and delicate re- 
 finement that was so particularly charac- 
 teristic of Edgar Mostyn. 
 
 The elder clerg3^man often tried to draw 
 out the younger one, in his open-hearted, 
 genial way, but though his advances were 
 met with apparent cordiality, no progress 
 was made towards real acquaintance. His 
 pretty but plain-spoken wife chafed under 
 this aspect of affairs, and occasionally made 
 me the confidant of her discontent ; one 
 day she said to me, 
 
 " How things change, Mrs. Grey, even in 
 the very common affair of making love. I 
 do think that Mr. Mostyn and little Edie 
 are the very coolest couple of young
 
 232 MRS. giiey's eeminiscences. 
 
 people I ever had the good luck to meet." 
 '' You must not infer from that," said I, 
 *' my dear Mrs. Hay ward, that they are 
 not as warmly attached (and I am sure I 
 I believe them to be so) as the most de- 
 monstrative couple of your acquaintance. 
 Please remember that * still waters run the 
 deepest.'" 
 
 '' Oh ! yes, I have heard all that ; but it 
 is hardly natural the way they go on. Mr. 
 Mostyn never seems to wish to be alone 
 with Edith, and he talks just the same to 
 her as he does to me or mamma, and what 
 do you think I found out is their amuse- 
 ment when we considerately consign them 
 to their own society for a few hours in the 
 day ? You will never guess ; he is teach- 
 ing her Spanish ! They study it together, 
 he told me, and seemed to think it was a 
 most pleasant and profitable way of em- 
 ploying their time ; and then there is Edie, 
 who used to be so merry, carrying about a 
 great Spanish dictionary, and when she is
 
 Edith's engagement. 233 
 
 not gazing at Edgar, staring into it ! It 
 is too absurd. I should like to shake tbem 
 both, and make tliem less rational, as they 
 no doubt call themselves." 
 
 I lauo^hed at her indio^nation, thoug^h at 
 the same time I had been conscious of 
 something of the same kind of feeling in 
 regard to the lovers, but I. had no doubt, 
 from my knowledge of both, that they 
 were really as deeply attached to each 
 other as their best friends could desire, 
 and this conviction I tried to impart to 
 the impetuous sister. She heard me rather 
 impatiently, and then observed — 
 
 " What you say may be very true, and 
 I am quite aware that Edie is about to 
 make what is called ' an excellent match.' 
 No one can doubt that Mr. Mostyn is a 
 man of excellent famil}^, and w^onderfully 
 good-looking — too much so, I think, for a 
 man ; those fine classical features and 
 general tournure are too perfect for my 
 taste ; he looks more like a mediaeval saint
 
 234 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 than an every-day common-place clergy- 
 man ; he seems too fine for his earthly 
 office, and he never condescends to look 
 at the children" (Mrs. Hay ward had two 
 "darlings" with her); "he will hardly 
 let Edith even pay them the least attention, 
 and she used to be so fond of Cissy and 
 Willie. Oh ! Mrs. Grey, I can never fancy 
 Edgar Mostyn a ^family man /'" 
 
 No more could I, but possibly he would 
 alter after marriage, and condescend to 
 things of " low estate ;" but at present he 
 certainly ignored the little beings, and 
 thereby incurred their mamma's special 
 displeasure. 
 
 About this time Sir Robert Mostyn 
 came on his promised visit to Dr. Temple. 
 His son had been euo^ao^ed to Edith Field- 
 ing nearly two months when he came 
 amongst us, and Edgar's departure had 
 been delayed in consequence. Dr. Temple 
 urg:ed his remainiuer with him until his
 
 Edith's engagement. 235- 
 
 father's visit, and under the circumstances 
 he could hardly refuse to do so. 
 
 Sir Kobert's coming had been delayed 
 from week to week, from some unavoid- 
 able cause or other, and Lady Mostyn was 
 already at a friend's house in Kent, en 
 route for Folkestone, from which place they 
 were to embark for Ostend, so she and 
 her two unmarried daughters contented 
 themselves with writing to their future 
 daughter and sister-in-law, sending all 
 kind and pretty messages about their 
 hopes of meeting immediately on their 
 return to England. 
 
 Sir Eobert Mostyn, when he came, 
 seemed charmed with his son Edgar's 
 future wife. He spoke of her with the 
 highest admiration and approval, and said 
 she was everything he could desire. We- 
 all liked Sir Eobert extremely, and he and 
 Mr. Fielding got on extremely well to- 
 gether. He was a fine-looking, gentle-
 
 236 MES. geey's eeminisoences. 
 
 manly man, with, a very penetrating ex- 
 pression of countenance, and decided look 
 and manner. I could quite imagine how 
 naturally lie would have his way in his 
 own family, and how easily he could, carry 
 all before him. He seemed on excellent 
 terms with his son, but I could detect 
 something of an anxious and inquiring 
 look as he bent those penetrating eyes 
 upon him and his future bride. 
 
 Edgar was very charming and deferen- 
 tial in his manner to his father, and seemed 
 pleased and satisfied at his unqualified a^D- 
 proval of Edith and her family. His elder 
 brother was about to make a great mar- 
 riage, but Sir Robert seemed equally pleased 
 that his younger son should have chosen 
 Ms wife from a less lofty position, whilst 
 he was quite satisfied that in beauty and 
 refinement little Edie was in no respects 
 inferior to his other future daughter- 
 in-law. He seemed to think that, as a 
 clergyman's wife and their own nearest
 
 Edith's engagement. 237 
 
 neighbour and relative, they could desire 
 no one more suitable and charming than 
 Edgar's chosen bride.
 
 238 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A KD so tlie time passed awaj quickly 
 ■^^ enough after Sir Robert Mostjn's 
 arrival, and soon the day of his departure 
 drew near, and with it that of his son 
 Edgar's also. When once the day was 
 named, I could see that Edith gradually 
 became even graver and more absorbed 
 than ever, whilst I could trace somethino^ 
 like an appearance of relief on the coun- 
 tenance of her betrothed. I fancied he 
 longed to be free from all the surrounding 
 circumstances of his engagement. The 
 constant and familiar intercourse of a 
 family, even as unobjectionable as that of 
 the Fieldings, at times appeared to oppress 
 and bewilder him.
 
 Edith's ENGAaE^EENT. 239 
 
 Happily Edith's quiet and subdued ways 
 and manner could never have that effect 
 upon him, and he often seemed to find re- 
 lief in her sole companionship, though even 
 then he placed the barrier of the Spanish 
 dictionary between her and more familiar 
 approach on his own part. But with all 
 that, I saw he loved her devotedly still; 
 his human heart had found a resting-place 
 from which no effort of his own could dis- 
 lodge it. I thought to myself, " When 
 once they are safely married, and it will be 
 his duty to love his wife, no doubt all 
 will come right/' and I only wished the 
 time were closer at hand. Just then it 
 seemed very far off. We were then in the 
 middle of the sweet Summer months, and 
 it was settled that the marriage should not 
 take place till the following Spring. There 
 were various reasons assigned for this de- 
 lay, and all were of due weight and im- 
 portance. The first arose from the intend- 
 ed absence of the Mostyn family during
 
 240 MRS. grey's RExMINISCENCES. 
 
 the "Winter, and Lady Mostjn's natural 
 desire to be present at the ceremony. 
 
 They were then on their way to Paris, 
 where the elder brother's marriage was to 
 take place, and he would not be satisfied 
 unless his brother Edgar took part in the 
 solemnization. After that affair was con- 
 cluded, Edgar Mostyn was to return and 
 take possession of his own living, and ac- 
 quaint himself with the people and duties 
 connected with it, before he could bring 
 his bride to share his new home ; and there 
 were, besides, various necessary alterations 
 and improvements to be made in the old 
 house before, in Sir Robert's opinion, it 
 would be a desirable habitation. All these 
 things he considered could not be accom- 
 plished before or a little after Christmas, 
 but after that time the young people might 
 name their day for the wedding. 
 
 This was the Mostyn state of the affair, 
 but the Fieldings had also their reasons to 
 bring forward for a short delay, and the
 
 Edith's engagement. 241 
 
 engaged pair being so young and inex- 
 perienced, it would be all in their favour. 
 The fact was Mrs. Fielding had a fixed 
 prejudice against allowing the marriage of 
 any of her daughters to take place before 
 they had attained the age of twenty. 
 
 " One and twenty would be better," 
 said the anxious mother, "but I cannot, 
 with my free will and consent, allow 
 any daughter of mine to enter upon the 
 cares and anxieties of married life whilst 
 still in her teens ; let the poor girls have 
 their brief period of gaiety and enjoyment. 
 Life is often hard enough (though, thank 
 God, none of my girls have ever found it 
 so) ; but do let them bring a little ex- 
 perience for the benefit of their husbands 
 as well as themselves." 
 
 It had therefore been the custom of 
 Mrs. Fielding, as soon as any of her daugh- 
 ters were engaged to be married, to put 
 them into a regular course of training for 
 the better management of their household 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 MRS. geet's reminiscences. 
 
 and domestic affairs, whilst she strenuous- 
 ly opposed all thoughts of the marriage 
 taking place before their twentieth birth- 
 day. I believe she had been pretty suc- 
 cessful as regarded two of her three mar- 
 ried daughters, but there was one, Cecilia, 
 the second, whose husband being on the 
 point of sailing for a civil appointment in 
 India, craved and obtained a dispensation, 
 and carried his bride off with him at the 
 age of nineteen. 
 
 "But then," said the careful mother, 
 ^' it is not the same out there, and I could 
 not help Cissy much in the housekeeping way 
 in India, so Mr. Sidney, I said, must take her 
 in all her ignorance and inexperience with 
 him, if he was so determined." And Mr. 
 Sidney, declaring it would be the "bliss of 
 ignorance," was content to take Cissy Field- 
 ins^ in her normal condition. 
 
 But with Edith it was another thing, as 
 it had been with her sister Emily before 
 her. Their intended husbands were clergy-
 
 Edith's engagement. 243 
 
 men, and their wives must enter upon 
 their new estate competent and equal to 
 the many duties that would be required of 
 them. Edith especially, as the wife of a 
 clergyman of extensive means and influ- 
 ence, must be able to assist him in everyway, 
 and although their income would be ample, 
 she ouo^ht to be tauQ-ht how to manao^e a 
 larger household, and keep all expenses 
 within proper limits ; therefore, as Edith 
 would complete her twentieth year just 
 before Easter, her mother begged that the 
 wedding might not take place till the week 
 after. Mr. Fielding also favoured the 
 proposition, as the short delay would en- 
 able him with more convenience to call in 
 and make over the money he had pro- 
 mised to settle on his daughter at her 
 marriage. 
 
 N'either Edgar nor Edith said a word to 
 all these propositions ; they seemed con- 
 tent to let their elders settle everything 
 for them, and when all was thus arranged, 
 
 r2
 
 244 MES. grey's EEMIxXISCENCES. 
 
 thej readily signified their consent to every 
 proposal tlius made. 
 
 Edgar Mostyn came, tlie evening before 
 his departure, to wish my husband and 
 myself good-bye. 
 
 ''We shall all seem very much at a loss 
 •without you," I said, as a farewell observa- 
 tion, and then added — '' But no doubt you 
 will run down often, and give us a look 
 before the final parting time arrives ?" 
 
 Edgar Mostyn was sitting with folded 
 arms looking into our sunny little garden 
 behind the house, and he started as I said 
 these few common-place words, and he 
 repeated some of them. 
 
 " Come often ! — well, no, I do not think 
 that will be necessary, but I shall always, 
 at all times and seasons, be glad to see 
 you, dear Mrs. Grey, and the doctor 
 again." 
 
 " That is right ; then we shall hope to 
 see you here before long once more, and I 
 have no doubt you and Edith will give us
 
 EDITH S ENGAGEMENT. 245 
 
 a welcome, if ever we slioukl chance to 
 find ourselves in your neighbourhood." 
 
 "Ah, that is a long way off at present." 
 
 " I daresay it seems so to you, but you 
 will find the few months will slip away 
 quickly enough when you set to work in. 
 your new parish." 
 
 " Perhaps so, but I fear it will be up- 
 hill work at first ; however, it has to be 
 done," he concluded, with a sigh of re- 
 signation ; and then, after he had risen to 
 say good-bye, he lingered for a moment, 
 looking rather wistfull}^ in my face, but at 
 length said, in a hesitating manner, 
 
 " Perhaps you will let me hear from you 
 now and then ? When you have nothing 
 better to do, it would be a charity to be- 
 stow a few lines on me. All my own 
 people will be away, and I expect to find 
 it rather dreary in my new home, with only 
 the former incumbent, but I daresay I 
 shall soon get used to it." 
 
 " I shall be deligfhted to write and send
 
 246 MRS. grey's eemintscenoes. 
 
 you all the Castleford news — only I dare- 
 say I shall be forestalled by Edith." 
 
 "I shall no doubt hear from her, but I 
 should be glad to hear o/her from you." 
 
 " Well, you may depend on my obliging 
 you in that way ; but I hope you will soon 
 come back. It will shorten the time so 
 much, both to yourself and Edith." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Grey, I could wish— if it 
 
 were not such a vain wish " And then 
 
 he paused with a flitting smile, but said 
 no more, so of course I could only ask, 
 
 " Well, may I hear what your wish 
 is?" 
 
 '' Only that Edith and T wxre already 
 together in Paradise, where there is neither 
 marrying nor giving in marriage !" 
 
 " And no separation," I added. '' But 
 I hope you and Edith will enjoy a very 
 happy earthly time before that consumma- 
 tion takes place !" 
 
 ^' Oh ! yes, no doubt we shall ; but it is 
 difficult to realise it at present." And then
 
 Edith's engagement. 247 
 
 he shook hands rather abruptly and went 
 his way. 
 
 I repeated our little conversation to my 
 husband, observing that I feared Edgar 
 Mostyn was not as settled in his mind, and 
 happy in his prospects, as he ought to be. 
 Dr. Grey agreed with me, but said he had 
 no doubt all would come right in time, that 
 he thought it was a good thing he was 
 going to make a little absence before the 
 marriage took place, as he would feel the 
 want of Edith's society, and no doubt be 
 better able to appreciate the pleasure when 
 deprived of its enjoyment. 
 
 In answer to this, I could not help ex- 
 pressing my own fears that in solitude he 
 might brood over his unfortunate doubts 
 and scruples until they became painfully 
 dominant in his mind, and that I could not 
 help suspecting he half regretted the step 
 he was about to take. Dr. Grey replied, 
 
 " It is a morbid fancy, and I trust to his 
 being convinced that it is so before long.
 
 248 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 Mostyn will have an excellent companion, 
 I am told, in his new duties, for a short 
 time, in a clever, sensible, and enlightened 
 man of cheerful mind, but strict principles. 
 He has held the living hitherto, and has 
 lately accepted an important piece of eccle- 
 siastical preferment in a Colonial Bishopric 
 which has been offered him since his re- 
 signation. Sir Robert told me he had be- 
 spoken his aid and indulgent assistance in 
 his son's peculiar case, and had no doubt 
 Edgar would benefit immensely from the 
 companionship." 
 
 '' Then I»almost wonder he sent Edgar 
 here to be with Dr. Temple, especially as 
 he had an idea that on some points they 
 thought alike." ' 
 
 *' So 1 hope they do on a great many — 
 for Dr. Temple is an excellent and worthy 
 divine, but in this particular and unhappy 
 notion to which I suppose you refer, advo- 
 cating the celibacy of the clergy in con- 
 formance with the Church of E-ome — you
 
 Edith's engagement. 249 
 
 have had, I hope, convincing proof how our 
 young friend was restored from his dehi- 
 siou, for I am pretty sure that, in spite of 
 his attachment/ to Edith, and belief in her 
 love for himself, he would never have pro- 
 posed to her, had it not been for the con- 
 vincing arguments of his Rector." 
 
 I shook my head, as I replied, in the 
 words of the old sajdng — 
 
 " ' He wlio is convinced against his will, 
 Is of the same opinion still.' " 
 
 '^ Not against his luillm this case, I hope," 
 said my husband, smiling. " I am sure 
 his will — that is his heart — went w^ith his 
 conviction, and we shall see the result ere 
 long; but in respect to Mostyn's originally 
 coming here. Sir Robert thought an entire 
 change of scene and persons desirable for 
 his son — for he told me he was very uneasy 
 about him when he first came from abroad, 
 and that nothing ever gave him sincerer 
 satisfaction than the announcement of his 
 happy matrimonial prospects."
 
 250 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 " I wisb. we could see more appearance 
 of happiness in the two persons so vitally 
 concerned in these prospects. I fear that 
 in Mr. Mostyn's case, having once formed 
 an opinion — erroneous as it may be, and 
 although he has been induced to yield to the 
 dictates of his heart, and love for Edith — 
 he finds it difficult, if not impossible, to 
 cast aside his former views. I told you I 
 considered him a man of very decided 
 character." 
 
 ''And so do not I — -or his father either." 
 
 "Ah ! because his father exacts an obedi- 
 ence from him that he yields in dutiful 
 affection against his own wishes. I can 
 quite fancy Sir Kobert Mostyn ruling his 
 own household, and compelling even the 
 strong wills to bend to his own." 
 
 "Eather, I imagine, it is the father's 
 strong will coercing the weak one of his 
 son, and endeavouring to guide and guard 
 against the false impressions produced by
 
 Edith's engagement. 251 
 
 a' too vivid and somewhat morbid imagina- 
 tion. Sir Robert tells me that Edgar, with 
 a very amiable disposition and good heart, 
 has been the subject of these (I may call 
 them) hallucinations, in various ways, all 
 his life, and has caused him much anxiety 
 in consequence ; but he does not doubt 
 that a quiet life of steady work in his own. 
 parish, aided by a charming wife, and in 
 the midst of his own friends and relations, 
 will bring about an entire cure, and he 
 confided thus much to me that, if needful, 
 our influence might aid the good work, if 
 occasion offered." 
 
 I pondered for awhile, but at last ven- 
 tured to express my apprehension that 
 Edgar Mostyn's state of mind in regard to 
 the celibacy of the clergy of his own Church 
 was more of a conviction (dangerous as 
 was the error), and could hardly be called 
 an hallucination. And then I brought 
 forward what I had already observed when
 
 .252 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 we first knew Edgar Mostyn, how unyield- 
 ing he was when, having once expressed 
 an opinion, it might be on indifferent mat- 
 ters, he found it questioned. 
 
 " Ah ! that, and his extreme reserve, is 
 his armour ; he entrenches himself behind 
 it — he may be pertinacious (not strong) in 
 argument, when he ventures upon it, but I 
 ■consider he would be weak in practice, if 
 his sentiments were subjected to the trial 
 of time, or the counter working of any 
 strong and overwhelmino^ influence. In the 
 present instance his love for Edith, aided 
 by his Sector's remonstrances, has ap- 
 parently swept away all his strongholds of 
 prejudice, but as his character has a great 
 element of weakness in it, he cannot all 
 at once reconcile himself to his novel po- 
 sition (as would a stronger-minded man), 
 but he hovers, as it were, between the two 
 ■opinions ; but you may safely depend upon 
 time and friendly ministrations to complete 
 the cure. You will see Edgar Mostyn and
 
 Edith's engagement. 253 
 
 his wife as bappy as you can desire, and as 
 she deserves to be." 
 
 That was too pleasant a termination to 
 our little argument to be farther pursued 
 by me — in fact, Dr. Grey considered it 
 entirely and conclusively ended, and as I 
 had the fullest faith in his powers of per- 
 ception, both as regarded mind and body, 
 I felt more satisfied with poor little Edith's 
 matrimonial prospects than I had done 
 from the time, or soon after that, of the 
 announcement of her engagement to Edgar 
 Mostyn.
 
 254 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 A FTBR Mr. Mostjn's departure, which 
 -^■^ took place the next day, we all felt 
 rather lost and strange without him. For 
 more than a year he had been amongst us, 
 an object of peculiar interest and specu- 
 lation, before all hopes and fears were 
 satisfactorily merged in his engagement to 
 Edith Fielding. We had indeed enjoyed 
 a time of mild excitement whilst that im- 
 portant event was pending, nor had it by 
 any means subsided since that period. 
 
 The few weeks which had elapsed after 
 that time were not altogether as satisfac- 
 factory to look back upon as could be de- 
 sired either for the girl herself or for those 
 most deeply interested in her welfare. But
 
 Edith's engagement. 255 
 
 Edith's father perhaps saw less of any in- 
 consistencies in his future son-in-law's 
 conduct to his promised wife than did some 
 other members of the family party, includ- 
 ing myself, who lived on terms of pecu- 
 liar intimacy with them. Mr. Fielding was 
 so much occupied and engrossed with the 
 cares and duties of his profession that he 
 saw but little of his family till they assem- 
 bled at the seven o'clock dinner, and then 
 was so perfectly satisfied that all was go- 
 ing on happily and well between Edith and 
 her lover that a shade of suspicion had 
 never crossed his mind that it could be 
 otherwise. He was extremely partial to 
 Edgar Mostyn, and, in fact, rather proud 
 of him and the connection altogether ; 
 and whatever passing doubts and fears 
 might occasionally assail Mrs. Fielding's 
 mind were, I know, dismissed as vain 
 chimeras of her own imagination, and 
 never imparted to her husband. 
 
 As far as the poor child herself was
 
 256 MES. GREY S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 concerned, not tlie faintest idea of the 
 scruples which agitated her lover s heart 
 had ever entered her thoughts ; she there- 
 fore attributed all his changeable moods 
 and fits of coolness to her own deficiencies, 
 and accused herself that she might excuse 
 him. 
 
 My husband, like Mr. Fielding, was too^ 
 deeply engrossed with professional inter- 
 ests to have any time to bestow upon the 
 engaged couple, and except in those in- 
 stances in which I had bespoken his atten- 
 tion, or Sir Eobert Mostyn had volunteered 
 to speak on the subject to Dr. Grey, he was 
 contented to ignore the matter as not com- 
 ing under the scope of his observation. I 
 have already recorded the opinion express- 
 ed by Edith's sister, Emily Hayward, and 
 I believe it was in great measure shared 
 by her worthy husband. 
 
 After Edgar was gone, Mrs. Hayward 
 still remained at her father's house ; her 
 mother had begged her to do so for a
 
 Edith's engagement. 257 
 
 short time, '^ to help cheer poor Edie dur- 
 ing Edgar's absence," and the good little 
 woman consented to stay on, her husband 
 unselfishly sparing her (to his own great 
 discomfort and inconvenience), but leaving 
 the two " darlings " with their mother, and 
 promising to come and fetch them home 
 himself as soon as they would send for 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. Hay ward was as much in the dark 
 as her sister as to the cause from whence 
 all Edgar Mostyn's " strangeness," as she 
 called it, proceeded, and so she only ac- 
 credited him with a certain amount of pride, 
 mixed with shyness, which made him un- 
 willing to betray any of those lively emo- 
 tions which she considered natural to the 
 
 r 
 
 situation. I believe that Dr. Temple was 
 the only person besides myself who, being 
 acquainted with facts beneath the surface, 
 watched the progress of the wooing with 
 more than ordinary interest. 
 
 I could not help, though as a rule I 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 MRS. GREY'S REMINISCENCES. 
 
 avoided all discussion of Mr. Mostyn's 
 affairs even with those best acquainted with 
 them, but I could not help observing, 
 when I first met Dr. Temple after his 
 Curate's departure, that I wished an earlier 
 time had been fixed for the marriage, say- 
 ing I did not fancy ''long engagements." 
 
 '' We can hardly call this a long engage- 
 ment," replied the Eector, wdth a smile, 
 *' especially as it is not an indefinite one, but 
 all things being fixed and settled — as far 
 as all human things can be — I am inclined 
 to think that the elder powers, who have so 
 arranged matters, have done wisely, and 
 well by the young people." 
 
 I could not give in so easily, and mur- 
 mured something about Mr. Mostyn's 
 peculiar opinions, and the advantage of his 
 settling them and himself as speedily as 
 possible. 
 
 '' Pardon me," said the Eector, courte- 
 ously, '' but I see things in a different 
 aspect from yourself. I speak to a friend
 
 Edith's engagement. 259 
 
 well acquainted with Mr. Mostyn's un- 
 settled state of mind. Now he has, I hope 
 and trust, got a decided turn in the right 
 direction. No one can doubt it, consider- 
 ing the fact of his engagement to so charm- 
 ing a girl as Miss Fielding. Still it has 
 been a wrench from his former ideas, and 
 it will take time to confirm the good im- 
 pression, and to uproot the erroneous ones. 
 Nothing that is done in a hurry can Tdg 
 well done, least of all taking so important a 
 step as he is contemplating. His mind 
 and opinions are, as it were, in a state of 
 fermentation, and it must take time for 
 them to settle ; but when the process has 
 been fully and deliberately gone through, 
 I think you may depend upon the result 
 being a clearer and more settled as well 
 as happier view of life, and its duties 
 and obligations, than he has hitherto 
 held." 
 
 I could not but subscribe to these senti- 
 ments of the good Doctor, and expressed 
 
 s2
 
 260 MES. GEEt's EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 my liope tliat things might turn out just 
 as he predicted. 
 
 '' Yes" said he, in conclusion, '* I do not 
 doubt it. Neither does his father, who 
 looks upon his intended marriage with 
 Miss Fielding as a turning-point in Edgar s 
 life, and one that will lead to as much 
 human happiness as any one man has a 
 right to expect, besides all higher and more 
 important considerations." 
 
 These being Dr. Temple's honest convic- 
 tions, I was glad to adopt them as the 
 fruits of an understanding more experi- 
 enced and capable than my own, and was 
 in consequence disposed to look upon the 
 present leisure time of Edith's new life and 
 interests as a resting-place from her late 
 anxieties and over-excitement. I was glad 
 to observe that Edith, now released from 
 the constant (and somewhat unsatisfactory) 
 study of her lover's countenance and vary- 
 ing moods, began to recover a little of her 
 former cheerfulness.
 
 Edith's engagement. 261 
 
 She was a person on whom the moods 
 of those she loved acted with almost mes- 
 meric effect, and Edgar's gravity and pre- 
 occupation at times had rendered her as 
 taciturn and silent as himself. Now he 
 was absent, she thought only of his rare 
 fits of tenderness, and evident love and 
 admiration for herself, and, as I have said, 
 only attributed to her own want of power 
 of pleasing the coldness and indifference 
 of other times. He had expressed a wish 
 that she should continue her study of 
 Spanish, and wished her to write to him 
 now and then in that language, that he 
 might continue to instruct and improve 
 her. So her thoughts were much turned 
 in that direction, and she rejoiced that she 
 could occupy herself every day for him, 
 and in doing that which he desired. 
 
 Poor Edith had an idea that Mr. Mostyn 
 considered her education imperfect, and 
 was therefore in a fever to improve herself 
 in every way, and to make herself more
 
 262 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 fit, as slie said, to become his future com- 
 panion. Her love was an all-absorbing 
 idolatry ; it gave the tone and colour to 
 her whole life, and usurped the place in her 
 heart and soul that no mortal creature was 
 fitted to occupy. 
 
 Mrs. Haj^ward would sometimes laugh 
 as she described Edith's serious occupa- 
 tions and amusements, but she was more 
 indulgent now the lover was absent. 
 "And besides/' she would add, " Edie is 
 more like her dear old self now, and can 
 notice my poor pets a little, as she used 
 to do. She is not always on the qui vive, 
 as she was when Mr. Mostyn was present, 
 to see whether he was annoyed with the 
 poor children's little prattle, and all their 
 pretty ways ; they were quite lost upon 
 his very superior mind — at least, Edie 
 attributed all his strangeness to his supe- 
 riority. I considered it downright stupid- 
 
 '' But some men do not care for children."
 
 Edith's engagement. 26B 
 
 " Then they ought to care, especially 
 clergymen ; and how Edgar will ever con- 
 descend to notice the school- children, and 
 all that he ought to do with and for them, 
 I can never imagine." 
 
 '^ Perhaps, when he has children of his 
 own, he will be more tolerant of the small 
 creatures." 
 
 Mrs. Hayward shook her head. 
 
 '' Maybe — I hope he may, but I can 
 never fancy him with a child on his knee, 
 much less carrying one or two about, like 
 my dear husband." 
 
 I could see that Mrs. Hayward could 
 never cordially approve of Mr. Mostyn, 
 though she declared she had no particular 
 fanlt to find with him, and said he was per- 
 fect in manner, and almost too handsome, 
 and as Edith was so wrapt up in him, she 
 hoped she should like him better on fur- 
 ther acquaintance ; but he was not her 
 ideal of what a country clergyman should 
 be, and as her husband was her model, it
 
 264 MRS. GEEt's TiEMINISCENCER. 
 
 must be confessed that all things or per- 
 sons must alter very much before she was 
 likely to change her opinion. 
 
 Emily Hay ward was perhaps a little 
 narrow-minded, and if people were not cut 
 out to the exact pattern she thought right, 
 and was accustomed to see and admire, 
 she could not believe it possible that they 
 might have some, though different claims 
 to approbation. No two men could be 
 more dissimilar than Edgar Mostyn, the 
 refined, over-sensitive, and reserved man, 
 and Arthur Hayward, the hearty, robust, 
 practical parish priest ; but the two sisters 
 were also so different in every way that it 
 was evident what suited one would not in 
 any way be adapted to the other's taste. 
 However, time went on, unheeding of any 
 of these differences, and Autumn came 
 and went before Edgar Mostyn found 
 time, or, maybe, inclination, to return to 
 Castleford. At last, when he did appear, 
 it was without a word of warning. That
 
 edtth's engagement. 265 
 
 he had been pressed and invited to do so 
 long before may be imagined. 
 
 To Edith he accounted for his tardiness 
 by saying that he did not wish to disturb 
 his mind, after he had begun work in 
 earnest. He had been present at his 
 brother's marriage, and stayed rather 
 longer by his mother's persuasion in Paris 
 than he had intended, and after he went 
 home he found much to occupy his time 
 and thoughts. His friend who had filled 
 his place was anxious to make the most of 
 his time before he went out to the Colonial 
 Bishopric which was waiting for him, and 
 Mr. Mostyn, in common courtesy, could 
 hardly leave him again to the superintend- 
 ence of his large parish, whilst he absented 
 himself in quest of pleasure. Edith readily 
 entered into his feelings, putting her own 
 entirely aside, and patiently waiting till 
 such time as Eds^ar miofht find it conveni- 
 ent to come and see her. 
 
 That time came quite unexpectedly ; he
 
 266 MES. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ran over, lie said (some hundred or so 
 miles), for a couple of days, as bis friend 
 begged lie would do, feeling and expressing 
 the utmost interest in his matrimonial 
 prospects, and being anxious that the girl, 
 of whom he had heard such charming re- 
 ports from Sir Eobert, should not have 
 cause to feel herself neglected on his ac- 
 count. 
 
 So Edgar Mostyn came, looking in better 
 health, less worried and anxious, and alto- 
 gether improved, apparently, in body and 
 mind. His fathers hopes were already 
 beginning to be realized, the healthful 
 occupation and genial companionship were 
 bearing such wholesome fruit as had been 
 so sanguinely anticipated, and poor little 
 Edith's heart and eyes overflowed with joy 
 and bright anticipations for the future. 
 
 Mrs. Hayward had alreadj^ departed for 
 her own home, and the happy lovers were 
 left free to discuss all things most interest- 
 ing to themselves. They came to dine with
 
 Edith's engagement. 267 
 
 us tlie second day of Edgar's visit, and 
 never bad I experienced so much pleasure 
 and satisfaction in seeing my young friends 
 together, whilst Mrs. Fielding told me that 
 now, for the first time, she felt perfectly 
 happy in Edith's engagement, and we both 
 observed that she looked more than beauti- 
 ful in her heart's contentment. 
 
 I made some such remark to Mr. Mostyn 
 as we stood listening to a farewell little 
 Spanish song that Edith was singing at her 
 lover's desire. His eyes were intently 
 fixed on her fair, innocent face, and his 
 whole soul was apparently rapt in the sweet 
 melody. He started when I spoke ; then, 
 as she concluded, he answered, 
 
 ''Yes, it is the face and the voice of an 
 angel, with the heart and disposition also 
 of one I To love such must be good and 
 right! Yes," — in a lower tone — "and 
 surely to be united to such a being for life 
 must exalt and purify any man's life !" 
 
 *' To be sure it must," I answered, hastily.
 
 268 MRS. GEEY S EEMINISCENDES. 
 
 a.nd then added, " But who could for one 
 moment doubt it ?" 
 
 " Not I," he answered, saying, a moment 
 afterwards, with a grave smile, " I believe 
 I was thinking aloud. It is a bad habit. 
 You must excuse me." 
 
 Just then, Edith's song being ended, she 
 rose from the piano and joined us, observ- 
 ing she hoped she did not disturb us, as 
 we seemed to be talking so earnestly, but 
 she came to make a request, which was 
 that Edgar would give them one song be- 
 fore they went away ; adding, with a look 
 of pretty entreaty, 
 
 '' Please, Edgar, sing my old favourite, 
 that Spanish song with English words — 
 'Isabel.'" 
 
 ''Very well," he answered. "You wish 
 to anticipate my farewell for to-morrow." 
 And then he hummed the refrain of the 
 song : 
 
 " Fare thee well — fare tliee well, 
 Far hence I must wander to-morrow."
 
 Edith's engagement. 269 
 
 " Yes," said Edith, iiiider her breath, 
 " that is it. It is so lovely and yet so sad. 
 Please sing it, dear." 
 
 I looked at the sweet face as she said 
 this, and as she raised her earnest eyes to 
 her lover's face, read in them a depth of 
 affection that was fated to be the weal or 
 woe of the heart that cherished it. 
 
 Mr. Mostyn sat dow^n at the piano, ac- 
 companying himself with a few sustaining 
 chords, but giving us all the harmony and 
 pathos of the melody in his deep, richly- 
 toned voice. When his last "Fare thee 
 well" sounded in our ears, and he rose 
 and came back to us, no word was spoken 
 till Edith, with a half sob, sighed, 
 
 '' How beautiful !" 
 
 " Yes, the song is pretty enough, and 
 the words rather sad, but I shall not sing 
 it to you, Edith, if you mean always to cry 
 over it." 
 
 Edith dried her tears quickly, saying, 
 
 "I cannot help it; there is something so
 
 270 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 wonderfully mournful in the air and the 
 words. Yet for all that," she added, in a 
 lighter tone, ^' there is a lovely waltz adapt- 
 ed from the same air, but I suppose it is 
 rather out of fashion now." 
 
 " The waltz or the words ?" asked Ed- 
 gar, rather absently. 
 
 Edith smiled. 
 
 " I meant the music, but the dance is 
 also a thing of the past to me, for I am 
 quite sure that I shall never wish to join 
 in it again." 
 
 The young Eector only observed that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fielding were going, then 
 wished me good night, and the whole party 
 soon after dispersed. 
 
 When I went to call on the Fieldings 
 the next morning, I found that Mr. Mos- 
 tyn had left by an early train.
 
 27J 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 "TIDGAR MOSTY]S['S visit had been 
 -■-^ short, but it was altogether a very 
 satisfactory one to all who were inter- 
 ested in the young couple. Edith evi- 
 dently revived under its pleasant influ- 
 ences, and seemed to have gained strength 
 of mind and body to bear the remaining 
 intervening period of her engagement with 
 calm philosophy, looking forward to the 
 happy future she believed herself destined 
 to spend with the man to whom she was 
 so utterly devoted. 
 
 Christmas approached, and the Fieldings 
 were naturally desirous that their future 
 son-in-law should spend it with them at 
 Castleford, Mrs. Fielding observing to me,
 
 272 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ^^ I hope Mr. Mostyn will be able to 
 come to us — Edith is so anxious that he 
 should. We have written to urge his 
 coming, promising, if all's well, that Mr. 
 Fielding and I will pay him and Edith a 
 visit next Christmas at their home." 
 
 I was sorry to find the good people were 
 to be disappointed, Mr. Mostyn wrote to 
 say it was quite impossible for him to 
 leave his parish just then. His friend, 
 Mr. Cameron, had left for his distant 
 Bishopric, and the new Curate whom he 
 expected could not come till after Christ- 
 mas ; but after he had established that 
 gentleman in his new office, he hoped to 
 be perfectly at liberty to follow his own 
 inclinations, and Edith could not doubt 
 where those would lead him. It was a 
 pleasant, cheery letter, and Mrs. Fielding 
 was almost as pleased as if the young 
 Eector had been able to come himself. 
 So Christmas came and went. 
 
 Easter was to fall early that year, and
 
 edtth's engagement. 273 
 
 Edith's sweet countenance briglitened as 
 she noted that fortunate and obliging cir- 
 cumstance, and told me in how many weeks 
 she could look forward to the happy day 
 that would unite her and her dearly-loved 
 one, and said she had begged that the 
 "wedding might take place on her twentieth 
 birthday, as it happened that year, by 
 Easter falling so early, that her birthday 
 would come the w^eek after. We all agreed 
 in thinking that it was a very opportune 
 circumstance, and would fit in nicely with 
 all other arrangements. 
 
 It was a very busy time with Mrs. 
 Fielding after Christmas, for then she 
 began in earnest her preparations for 
 Edith's marriage. She was to have the 
 most charming trousseau that the Castle- 
 ford milliner could furnish, and patterns 
 of dresses were to be sent from London ; 
 but everything was to be made in the 
 bride's native town, for Mr. and Mrs. 
 Fielding always patronised the inhabitants 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 of Castleford, as they considered it their 
 bounden duty to do, and, I may add, no 
 family was more highly respected and con- 
 sidered in it than the Fieldings. 
 
 Edith's engagement and approaching 
 marriage had excited a great deal of in- 
 terest and sympathy in the town amongst 
 high and low, and now that the time 
 drew near, all in their several stations 
 brought some little or large token of 
 good-will as an offering to the fair bride. 
 Presents, indeed, began to come in with 
 overwhelming rapidity from far and near. 
 Mr. Fielding was so well-known and 
 highly esteemed that many of his clients 
 sent gifts to his daughter, although per- 
 sonally unknown to her. Letters came 
 from the Mostyn family in different places ; 
 the married daughters sent their offerings 
 also, and the newly-married pair, Mr. and 
 Lady Constance Mostyn, who were still 
 abroad, wrote to Edith to say she must 
 come with her husband and pay them a
 
 Edith's engagement. 275 
 
 visit directly after their marriage at their 
 pretty chateau on Lake Lausanne. 
 
 Poor little Edith ! her cup of happiness 
 seemed filled to overflowing ; but in the 
 midst of all this, I think she had but one 
 feeling, and that was how Edgar would 
 like it all. She had no thought of herself, 
 or what she wo aid like to do. To be with 
 him, to go anywhere he liked, or stay for 
 ever quietly at home, if he preferred it — 
 to work with him or for him, to rest in 
 his loved presence, and be all-in-all to 
 him, was all her heart craved. She was 
 pleased with all her pretty and valuable 
 presents, because they were given to her 
 on the occasion of her becoming his wife. 
 
 Mr. Mostyn wrote to Edith about that 
 time to say the new Curate had appeared, 
 and that they were, he believed, mutually 
 pleased and satisfied with each other ; and 
 now he had established Mr. Hervey in his 
 own house, he hoped to pay his little visit 
 to Castleford, and after that he was going 
 
 t2
 
 276 MES. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 to meet and bring liis mother and sister 
 home, as it happened Sir Eobert Avould be 
 obliged to come over earlier to attend 
 some important meetings in his own 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 The day arrived for Edgar's last visit 
 before he should come to take Edith away, 
 and her face wore its brightest looks. Oh ! 
 "what a happy future appeared stretched 
 before her ! 
 
 The hours went slowly on, and no Ed- 
 gar came ; and then a letter in the great- 
 est haste, written at the last moment, to 
 tell his dearest Edith that he was sum- 
 moned to attend his mother without a 
 moment's delay, as she had been taken 
 suddenly and dangerously ill. This was 
 a most unfortunate contretemps^ but poor 
 little Edith bore up bravely ; she would 
 not increase her lover's anxiety and dis- 
 tress by one word of complaint, and only 
 sent a few lines of heartfelt sympathy for 
 his mothers illness, and cheering words
 
 Edith's engagement. 277 
 
 of hope for himself— not a syllable of her 
 own disappointment, only entreatiog him 
 not to think of her, and only to consult 
 Tvhat would conduce most to his mother's 
 comfort and happiness. 
 
 " So he will not return before the time 
 fixed for our marriage, even if Lady Mostyn 
 gets better sood," said she, in answer to 
 various conjectures as to the time of his 
 return, and duration of his absence ; add- 
 ii2g — '' Edgar must stay with his mother, 
 for I am sure the sight of his dear face 
 will do her more good than all the doctors, 
 and I will not grudge him to her now she 
 is so ill, for have I not a whole happy life- 
 time to spend with him ?" 
 
 Edith was rewarded for her disinterested 
 conduct by hearing that Edgar had arrived 
 safely at his journey's end, and found his 
 mother better. They were then in Rome, 
 where they had wished to spend Easter. 
 Lady Mostyn was charmed to have her 
 son with her, and by his remaining he en-
 
 278 MRS. grey's eemtniscences. 
 
 abled Sir Eobert to leave bis wife as soon 
 as all danger was over, and they all boped, 
 as soon as Lady Mostyn was well enougb 
 to bear tbe journey, tbat sbe would be 
 able to return borne in time to be present 
 at the marriage, keeping her son with 
 her till then. This letter was followed by 
 others, announcing Lady Mostyn's satis- 
 factory progress towards recovery, written 
 chiefly by Edgar's sister. 
 
 Thus the weeks passed on, and Easter 
 was at hand. The travelling party were 
 expected early the following week, and 
 everything was to be in readiness for the 
 marriage taking place on Edith's birthday 
 on the Thursday. Before that day came,. 
 however, Mr. Eielding received a hurried 
 letter from Sir Eobert, saying he was then 
 starting for Italy, having received an un- 
 expected summons, only stating that his 
 presence was imperatively demanded on 
 family affairs of the greatest importance, 
 but not a clue given as to the nature of
 
 Edith's engagement. 279 
 
 the business which so urgently demanded 
 his presence — whether it concerned his 
 wife's health, or whether anything had be- 
 fallen either of his daughters. The sus- 
 pense seemed terrible until the anxious 
 husband and father could reach his family ; 
 his only comfort was that Edgar was with 
 them, and by diligent travelling night and 
 day, he should very shortly be with them. 
 This dispatch had been sent by private 
 hand to Mr. Fielding, as the town of 
 Castleford did not boast any telegraph 
 office in those days. 
 
 Mr. Fielding, as was his custom, made 
 no mystery of the letter he had received, 
 and he and his wife and daughter discussed 
 it together. Edith had turned deadly pale 
 on the first reading, as she remarked with 
 trembling lips that it might be Edgar who 
 was ill, or might have met with some acci- 
 dent, and she added that the last few ac- 
 counts of Lady Mostyn had been written 
 by one of her daughters, who said on both
 
 280 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 occasions that Edgar was out, and seemed 
 much engaged. 
 
 '' Then," observed Mr. Fielding^ cheerily, 
 *' we have the satisfaction of knowing that 
 he is not laid up, and so far is well, for 
 no doubt he will write himself to us on the 
 subject that has called his father away." 
 
 Edith made no further comment, but 
 seemed to take a little comfort from her 
 father's remark. 
 
 The days passed slowly, very slowly, 
 away, with the load of suspense that lay 
 heavy upon the home and hearts of the 
 Fieldings. 
 
 "We cannot expect to hear again from 
 Sir Robert for some days ; no doubt 
 Edgar will write, but perhaps not till he 
 has seen his father, for the ill-tidings may 
 concern one of his sisters — perhaps she 
 may be bent on some imprudent match, 
 and he may not like either to tell it or to 
 conceal it from Edith," was the constant 
 speech, with various modifications, of Mrs.
 
 Edith's engagement. 281 
 
 Fielding, -when, day bj day, came the 
 dreary repetition of "no foreign letter to- 
 day." 
 
 Easter day came — a bright, beautiful, 
 joyous-looking day, full of Spring feelings, 
 a resurrection-time of nature and human- 
 ity. No one attended Divine service from 
 the Fieldings' house — they sat as if in 
 quiet expectation of some unknown, un- 
 suspected calamity ; it might be death, or 
 it might be disgrace to those who were, or 
 were to be, so nearly and dearly connected 
 with them. Easter Sunday, however, 
 passed away in all the silent monotony of 
 the preceding days to the expectant family. 
 Then Easter Monday and Tuesday, happy 
 holidays throughout the town, also went 
 by without incident, and vanished into the 
 abyss of the dead past. 
 
 Thursday was Edith's birthday, and the 
 poor girl observed, "We must know some- 
 thing before then." It was not, however, 
 until Friday came that the intolerable bur-
 
 282 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 den of tlie wearing suspense was lifted. 
 It was about tlie middle of that day that 
 a railway cab drove np to the door of Mr. 
 Fielding's house, and Sir Robert Mostyn 
 descended from it. He came in with a 
 heavy, halting step, looking white, and 
 worn, and worried. He grasped both Mr. 
 and Mrs. Fielding's hands with a lingering- 
 pressure, then turned to Edith, and taking 
 her in his arms, kissed her very tenderly, 
 saying only, '' My poor child !" then re- 
 placed her on the sofa from which she had 
 risen ; but Edith sprang up again, and 
 fixing her straining, eager eyes on his face, 
 and laying both her poor trembling little 
 hands, witli a look of piteous entreaty, on 
 his arm, whispered, 
 
 ''Where is he? — why did not he come 
 with you ? Tell me at once — is he alive ?" 
 
 Sir Eobert passed his hand over his own 
 eyes, and then took both the girl's hands 
 in his, as he answered, 
 
 " Yes, my poor child, he is alive, but
 
 Edith's engagement. 283 
 
 perhaps it bad been happy for you if he 
 were not, and if he had never known 
 you." 
 
 Then Sir Robert said, painful as it was, 
 he had coroe to announce the sad fact to 
 them himself that his son had forsaken his 
 own Church and gone over to that of Eome. 
 Then Edith gave a little cry of relief as she 
 raised her head and eyes, and clasping her 
 poor trembling hands with a gesture of 
 entreaty, she exclaimed — 
 
 '^Oh! Sir Robert, is that all? Then 
 he lives, and he has done nothing really 
 wrong ? Tell me where he is, that I may 
 write and comfort him, and tell him that, 
 whatever others may think of the step he 
 has taken, and if there are errors in his 
 new faith, I am ready and willing to share 
 them with him. Oh ! when shall I see 
 him again ? — when will he come to me ?" 
 
 ''' Never ^ my dear child. I^ay, listen to 
 me ; sad and terrible as all this must be 
 to you, and to me, his mother, and all of
 
 284 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 IIS, we sliall probably never see Edgar 
 again, for he has vowed himself to the 
 priesthood, so his life is to us closed for 
 ever. I have not seen him, nor do I know 
 where he is, though I have been travelling 
 about to find him. His new friends have 
 taken him away, far from all family influ- 
 ences, aud this terrible wrong, my poor 
 child, falls more heavily on you than on 
 all of us. Oh ! how could he do it — how 
 could he forsake her ?" the poor father 
 exclaimed, as Edith sank heavily back on 
 the sofa, and lay there in a long dreary 
 trance of insensibility. 
 
 I need not pursue poor Edith's story 
 much further ; her engagement thus end- 
 ed, she seemed to have no further care for 
 life ; her idol being cast down, and her 
 cherished hopes destroyed, she was utterly 
 desolate. No family ties or affections had 
 any power to move her from the state of 
 stony indifference into which she fell. 
 
 She heard once from Edgar Mostyn ; he
 
 Edith's ENGAaEMENT. 285 
 
 wrote to lier to bid her farewell for Time, 
 
 but looking forward to a happier meeting\ 
 lie said, in Eternity ; he asked her to for- 
 give any sorrow he might have caused her, 
 but told her of the struggles that their 
 engagement had cost him, and that he had 
 fully intended to carry it out, hoping that 
 peace would come afterwards, but when 
 in Rome he met some old friends of the 
 Catholic Church, and to them he confided 
 his scruples, and was by them advised to 
 seek safety and peace by entering the 
 priesthood in their own persuasion. When 
 he wrote, he had taken the vows of monastic 
 life upon himself, and from that time we 
 heard no more of him — he remained dead 
 to his family and friends. 
 
 Edith never recovered from the blow she 
 received that day ; she never again entered 
 into society. Dr. Grey was consulted, but 
 he could not minister to a mind, or rather 
 heart, diseased. She lived for two years 
 after that miserable Easter, but a cold.
 
 286 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 neglected at the beginning, carried her off 
 after a short illness. Whether Edo^ar 
 Mostjn ever heard of her early death, I 
 know not, but it was a melancholy ending 
 to poor '' Edith's Engagement."
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW.
 
 MR. AND MRS. FINSHAW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TT is some years now since a young^ 
 -^- couple, a Mr. and Mrs. Fansliaw, 
 came amongst us, and took up their resi- 
 dence in Castleford. No one knew any- 
 thing of their antecedents, for it was 
 a casualty whicli had seemed to deter- 
 mine their choice of this town to live in. 
 A slight railway accident happened very 
 near this place, when several persons were 
 much shaken, and still more dreadfully 
 alarmed. Amongst the former it appeared 
 that this Mrs. Fanshaw received a slight 
 concussion from being thrown violently 
 against the opposite seat, and was in con- 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 MES. grey's remtntsoences. 
 
 sequence too nervous and ill to continue 
 her journe3^ Her husband was extremely 
 alarmed about her, and Dr. Grey was sum- 
 moned, who merely prescribed a few simple 
 remedies, and recommended perfect quiet 
 for a few daySs Then, after he had, at 
 Mr. Fanshaw's earnest request, repeated 
 his visits on the next and following days, 
 he said there was no further need for his 
 attendance, only advising that the journey, 
 wherever it might tend, should be post- 
 poned for a week or so, and to that sug- 
 gestion both the invalid and her husband 
 seemed perfectly inclined to listen. 
 
 Dr. Grey was much struck with the 
 appearance and pleasing manner of the 
 young lady, and suggested that I should 
 go and see the invalid, who was evidently 
 a lady in every sense of the word, saying 
 that both she and her husband looked so 
 very young that it would be a kindness on 
 my part to see if I could be of any use to 
 them in any way.
 
 ME. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 291 
 
 We were not particularly exclusive 
 people in Castleford, and I saw no reason 
 whatever against my complying with my 
 husband's request, and should have been 
 equally ready to do so had he represented 
 the invalid as being less ladylike and in- 
 teresting than he had done. I accordiugly 
 presented myself the next morning at the 
 inn or hotel where, by Dr. Grey's advice, 
 the young couple had taken up their 
 abode. 
 
 I was a good deal struck, on entering, 
 by the appearance of both husband and 
 wife, for even as the lady lay listlessly 
 back on the sofa, and the young man sat 
 at some little distance reading by the win- 
 dow, I fancied they belonged to different 
 grades of society. The young wife — quite 
 a girl, apparently in her teens — was ex- 
 tremely pretty, and looked very refined ; 
 there was no mistaking that she was a 
 lady at the first glance, whilst the young 
 
 man, who was also very young, looked 
 
 u2
 
 292 MES. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 rather awkward as I came in, and as if 
 inclined to make a retreat. I observed 
 lie was tall and sliglit, of a very dark com- 
 plexion, and with black hair and slight 
 moustache, and something of a foreign air 
 about him, and his dress was similar to 
 that of a French peasant, although made 
 of finer materials, yet he wore the dark 
 blouse, confined with a leather belt round 
 the waist, and wide loose trousers. His 
 features were rather plain and coarse, but 
 the expression of his countenance intelli- 
 gent and honest. The one redeeming 
 point about him was the smallness of his 
 hands and feet, which seemed almost at 
 variance with the rest of his bourgeois ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Mrs. Fanshaw raised herself from her 
 recumbent position as I came in, and 
 thanked me for my visit, though rather 
 shyly, yet in the prettiest way possible. 
 She looked a perfectly English woman, or 
 rather girl, herself, and decidedly belonged
 
 ME. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 293 
 
 to tlie upper classes. She was (though 
 rather in deshabille) beautifully dressed, 
 and everything about her in the daintiest 
 order. If she moved, her husband was at 
 her side to arrange her cushions, or fetch 
 her a stool, and do all and everything with 
 the tenderest care. 1 observed she took 
 all his attentions very kindly, but without 
 any of the answering devotion I should 
 have expected in so young a wife. 
 
 We entered easily and readily into con- 
 versation, the late accident and all attend- 
 ant circumstances affording plenty of com- 
 mon ground for participating in it. The 
 young man, meanwhile, kept in the back- 
 ground, and seemed unwilling to take any 
 part in our discourse, nor did his young 
 wife appear to consider it necessary to 
 include him in our conversation. How- 
 ever, as I was desirous to see and liear a 
 little more of the gentleman, as well as of 
 the lady, I turned round, and pointedly 
 addressed some remarks to him as well as
 
 294 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 to his wife. Seeing I wished to talk to 
 him also, he responded quietly to my ad- 
 vances, but having answered my remarks, 
 relapsed into silence. I then remarked that 
 he spoke with a French accent, though in 
 tolerably correct English, and I also observ- 
 ed that he had an unpleasantly high-toned 
 voice, which further decided my impres- 
 sion that the lovely lady had married some 
 young foreigner beneath her in station, as 
 he seemed to be in general appearance and 
 manner. 
 
 On the whole, however, I was pleased 
 with my new acquaintances, though I knew 
 so little about them, and the young lady 
 expressed herself much gratified with what 
 she called my kind attention to her, and 
 thanked me for offering to repeat my visit. 
 I was glad to do so, for I was much inter- 
 ested in the invalid, and thought she must 
 find it dull in a strange place, and no one 
 to speak to except her husband, who did 
 not appear to me to be at all a fitting
 
 ME. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 295 
 
 spouse for sucTi an elegant and charming 
 little wife. 
 
 Dr. Grey laughed at my romance, as he 
 termed my fancies in regard to his patient 
 and her husband, and said he had not 
 bestowed much attention on the latter ; he 
 only observed that he seemed anxious about 
 and devoted to his wife, and he thought 
 her a particularly interesting little woman, 
 but did not see anything very remarkable 
 in the case of two young people, probably 
 on their wedding excursion, being detained 
 by an accident for a week or two at a 
 quiet, out-of-the-world old town like Castle- 
 ford ; observing, also, that whether I was 
 pleased to consider them suited to each 
 other in station or in other ways, it was 
 evident they entertained no such misgiving 
 themselves, as they appeared always to be 
 perfectly contented and well satisfied with 
 each other, so he would advise me to dis- 
 miss all anxiety on that head. Dr. Grey 
 further said his professional visits were at
 
 296 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 an end, but lie should call upon them now 
 and then, when he had time, but supposed 
 it would not be long now before they set 
 out agam on their interrupted journey. 
 
 This quickened my desire to see more 
 of the (in different ways) interesting 
 couple, who were still at the King's Head 
 Hotel, and I also wished to persuade the 
 charming little Mrs. Fanshaw to come and 
 pass a day with me before she and her 
 husband left Castleford. 
 
 To my surprise, on my mentioning the 
 subject, the little lady said they had given 
 up the idea of moving at present ; they 
 both liked Castleford very much, and 
 thought, if they could find a small house 
 to suit them, they should like to remain 
 where they were for a few months. It 
 was then Autumn, and the Winter was 
 coming on, so they should at all events 
 not care to move before the Spring. 
 
 Upon that announcement, I repressed 
 all mention of my surprise, but expressed
 
 ME. AND MES. FAN SHAW. 297 
 
 my sincere satisfaction at the determina- 
 tion at which they had arrived. I ven- 
 tured, however, to make some observation 
 relating to the destination of the journey 
 they were making when the railway acci- 
 dent threw them, as it were, amongst us. 
 I saw Mrs. Fanshaw glance hastily at her 
 husband, who then came forward and said, 
 in his high-pitched, foreign tone of voice, 
 
 " Ah, yes, Madame is right ; we were 
 bound on a journey, but it had no special 
 termination in view. We were making 
 what you call honeymoon, and that can be 
 enjoyed at one jDlace as well as another." 
 And having said thus, Mr. Fanshaw re- 
 treated to his favourite post of observa- 
 tion by the window. 
 
 The young lady looked up, and smiled 
 and nodded at him ; then, turning her at- 
 tention to me, said, 
 
 " Yes, we have no settled home as yet ; 
 all our relatives are abroad, and we do 
 not expect to see any of them again this
 
 298 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 year, so, finding we like tliis place, we 
 think of establishing ourselves in a very 
 quiet way, if you will kindly help us to da 
 so." ' 
 
 The help thus candidly asked for by 
 these wandering lovers, as they appeared 
 to be, was no pecuniary assistance — only 
 the help of advising them where to look 
 for the temporary abode they had fixed 
 their hearts on finding at Castleford ; in- 
 deed, I heard — for rumour on such inter- 
 esting ma^tters is ever rife in small places, 
 especially in a country town, be it ever 
 so isolated — and rumour was in all ways 
 favourable to our new friends as regarded 
 money concerns. It was said they seemed very 
 well off (I knew no reason why they should 
 not have been so), and they had plenty of 
 luggage belonging to them, addressed to 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw, which found its 
 way to them after the accident ; so the 
 people at the hotel, as well as society in
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 299 
 
 general, were satisfied that they were per- 
 fectly ''respectable." 
 
 We bad no difficulty in finding such a 
 house as they wished for — they both ob- 
 jected to lodgings ; it was not far from 
 our own house, and though small, seemed 
 to comprise all they wished for. 
 
 *' "We are not rich — at least, not at pre- 
 sent," said Mrs. Fanshaw, in explanation 
 to me, " but we have all we want, and we 
 shall only require a quiet woman as a 
 general servant, for," she added, with a 
 smile, '' we are not likely to be troubled 
 with many visitors here." 
 
 I replied that that would depend on 
 their own inclinations, as no doubt they 
 could have in time as many visitors as 
 they liked to entertain, if they were so 
 disposed. Mrs. Fanshaw said nothing in 
 answer to my remark, and everything re- 
 garding the new house, as well as the 
 servant they required, was, by my recom-
 
 300 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 mendation, soon settled. At the end of a 
 week from the time their search com- 
 menced, our new neighbours took up their 
 residence in their small habitation. 
 
 I believe, from the fact of Dr. Grey's 
 professional attendance, and my following 
 in his steps in visiting the newly-arrived 
 couple, that Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw were 
 looked upon as our special property, and 
 Dr. Grey and myself as the natural spon- 
 sors as to the eligibility of their being ad- 
 mitted to all the pleasures and privileges 
 of Castleford society ; but, as I have said, 
 we were not exclusive, and were ready to 
 be pleased and satisfied when all looked 
 fair and favourable, as it did in regard to 
 the young and interesting couple. 
 
 It was soon discovered that Mrs. Fan- 
 shaw was a first-rate musician ; she played 
 and sang to perfection. Mr. Fanshaw 
 appeared also to be a proficient on the 
 guitar, and sang to it, in spite of his un- 
 pleasant speaking tones, in a rich contralto
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 301 
 
 voice, chiefly French songs — indeed, his 
 nationality was so apparent that I could 
 not help remarking upon it to his wife one 
 day, when there appeared an opening to 
 the subject. She started and coloured as 
 she answered, 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed. Mr. Fanshaw is Eng- 
 lish — that is, he was born in England, and 
 his father was an Englishman ; but his 
 mother is French, and after her husband's 
 death she went abroad Avith her children, 
 and has lived there chiefly since ; and I also 
 have been a good deal abroad, though I was 
 educated and lived till lately in England." 
 
 That little history, I thought, fully ac- 
 counted for Mr. Fanshaw's English name, 
 and foreign tone and appearance. At the 
 same time, I could not cease wondering 
 what had induced this high-bred, delicate- 
 ly-nurtured, and accomplished English girl 
 to cast in her lot with one apparently 
 so unsuited to her as the young Anglo- 
 French man.
 
 B02 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 The only solution tliat presented itself 
 to my mind was their mutual love of 
 music, and one well knows what strange 
 matches that predilection has brought 
 about. I looked, but looked in vain, for 
 some explanation of the mystery, but Mr. 
 and Mrs. Fanshaw always appeared on the 
 best of terms ; there was certainly nothing 
 demonstrative, and none of the love- 
 making one might have expected from 
 such a recently-wedded pair, neither was 
 there ever, to all appearance, the slightest 
 want of harmony between them, and to 
 this the good woman who acted as their 
 serva.nt bore willing testimony. 
 
 She came to me one day on some slight 
 matter of individual interest, and took the 
 opportunity of thanking me for my re- 
 commendation, saying, 
 
 " There never was a nicer, pleasanter 
 lady or kinder gentleman to live with, and 
 to see his attention to his lady ! for if even 
 the least thing ailed her, he was up night
 
 ME. AND MRS. FAXSHAW. 303 
 
 and day waiting on her, and always took 
 up everything to her himself when she 
 kept her room, and she did believe he 
 waited on her and helped her with her 
 dressing, and doing up her beautiful hair, 
 when it seemed too much trouble to the 
 lady to do it herself ;" adding, " And you 
 know, ma'am, that I myself am not any 
 great hand in waiting on a lad}^, in the 
 way of dress like." 
 
 I quite agreed with good, homely Mrs. 
 Symonds, and could easily believe that a 
 Frenchman's hands were more likely to 
 meet the lady's requirements than her own 
 rough, hard- worked, honest EngHsh ones. 
 
 I saw a great deal of Mrs. Fanshaw 
 after they were settled in their new house, 
 bat very little of Mr. Fanshaw ; he evi- 
 dently avoided society, and never, except 
 in a few instances, when Mrs. Fanshaw 
 called on his help in a musical way, did he 
 even join in any little society that she 
 might chance to invite to her own house,
 
 304 MES. grey's eeminiscences. 
 
 far less did lie care to enter into any at other 
 houses. However, Mrs. Fanshaw went 
 very little from her own home ; she came 
 in her quiet way often to see and talk to 
 me, and sometimes gave me a little music, 
 which was indeed a treat. She was in 
 great request on that account on all mu- 
 sical reunions in our little society. She 
 went to some, but, it seemed to me, more 
 out of kindness and good-nature to please 
 others than for any satisfaction arising to 
 herself or pleasure in the performances. 
 
 It was at one of these little concerts that 
 I overheard a few words from her which 
 added to my surprise, and rather deepened 
 the mystery that I felt attached to her 
 married life. 
 
 It was an answer she made to an irre- 
 pressible lady who was offended at Mr. 
 Fanshaw's non-appearance at her concert, 
 and the loss of his expected musical assist- 
 ance, that she presumed on his wife's 
 silence, whilst she held forth on the sub-
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 305 
 
 ject des appointements and consequent an- 
 noyance, and then proceeded to condole 
 with her on his iin suitability in various 
 ways to herself, ending by observing she 
 was sure it must have been ao^aiust her 
 parents' wish that she had so bestowed 
 herself. 
 
 Mrs. Fanshaw's answer came calm and 
 clear as she looked steadily in the face of 
 her inquisitor, and the words were — 
 
 '' You are quite mistaken ; neither father 
 nor mother, nor any friend I have in the 
 world, ever objected to my marrying Mr. 
 Fanshaw, and we are perfectly happy." 
 
 There was no appearance of anger or 
 excitement in her voice or manner as she 
 said this and turned from the incensed 
 lady, and taking up a piece of music with 
 a smile observed she would endeavour to 
 supply her husband's place and sing the 
 song expected from him. 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 rpiME passed away ; the Winter was 
 -■- gone, and Spring came by slow de- 
 efrees. Still Mr. and Mrs. Fansliaw made 
 no mention of departure. Our intimacy 
 had increased, and by that time Mrs. Fan- 
 shaw had entreated that I would drop her 
 formal name, and call her only by her 
 Christian one, which she told me was 
 '* Dora." I had never heard it before, for 
 Mr. Fanshaw, when speaking to his wife, 
 neither addressed her by any name nor even 
 title of endearment — at least, he had never 
 done so when I chanced to be present. I 
 was equally in the dark as to his name, as 
 whenever his wife spoke to him it was al- 
 ways as ^'' Mon ami;' nevertheless, nothing
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 307 
 
 ever appeared to disturb the liarmony 
 which subsisted between them. 
 
 When I asked Dora (it was pleasant to 
 call her so, and somehow seemed more 
 natural than "Mrs. Fanshaw") if they had 
 settled to take their house for an indefinite 
 time, as some one had mentioned such an 
 intention on their part. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, ''for an indefinite 
 time;" adding, "You perhaps wonder that 
 we should be so unsettled, but the fact is, 
 until I am of age, which will not be just 
 yet, my plans must be to a certain degree 
 unsettled." 
 
 I observed she only mentioned herself, 
 which confirmed me in my suspicion that 
 she ruled her husband entirely. He cer- 
 tainly appeared to have no will but hers — 
 at least, if he had, it was never asserted. 
 
 There was another family besides our 
 own with whom Mrs. Fanshaw lived on 
 terms of considerable intimacy, and who 
 also wished to include her husband (but 
 
 x2
 
 310 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ford by the same train, and in the same 
 carriage as the Fanshaws. The sudden 
 shock that had affected Mrs. Fanshaw had 
 an equally injurious effect upon Henry 
 Middleton, and he had been indebted to 
 Mr. Fanshaw for timely and kind assist- 
 ance, who, after he had extricated his wife, 
 had turned his attention to their fellow- 
 passenger, as he was rendered almost in- 
 sensible by the concussion. 
 
 It was some time after the accident had 
 happened that Henry Middleton became 
 aware to whom he was indebted ; but after 
 (I believe through Dr. Grey) he and his 
 family knew that it was Mr. Fanshaw who 
 had so kindly succoured him, they were all 
 very unanimous in their expression of grati- 
 tude, and from that time it came to pass that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw were in the habit 
 of receiving constant and friendly atten- 
 tion from all the Middleton family. How 
 this was responded to at first I can hardly 
 say, but by degrees Dora Fanshaw was
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAV/. 311 
 
 beguiled into more intimate acquaintance 
 ■with her new friends than, it seems, she 
 had intended. For she said it was very dif- 
 ferent with two quiet, middle-aged people 
 like Dr. Grey and myself, to be on intimate 
 terms, and come and go to their house at 
 all times ; but in such a family as Mr. 
 Middleton's, with young people, it involved 
 so much more than she was prepared for, 
 or that suited " Mr. Fanshaw's retiring 
 habits." Still the intimacy steadily pro- 
 gressed. No one that had seen much of 
 Dora Fanshaw could resist wishing to im- 
 prove the acquaintance, and desiring to 
 see more of her. She yielded at last, but, 
 as it were, under protest, and as the year 
 advanced the intimacy ripened. 
 
 Henry Middleton was in every way de- 
 sirous to include his benefactor, Mr. Fan- 
 shaw, in their constant meetings and mu- 
 sical reunions^ but to all the most friendly 
 overtures he remained for the most part 
 insensible, seldom appearing at the Middle-
 
 310 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 ford by the same train, and in the same 
 carriao^e as the Fanshaws. The sudden 
 shock that had affected Mrs. Fanshaw had 
 an equally injurious effect upon Henry 
 Middleton, and he had been indebted to 
 Mr. Fanshaw for timely and kind assist- 
 ance, who, after he had extricated his wife, 
 had turned his attention to their fellow- 
 passenger, as he was rendered almost in- 
 sensible by the concussion. 
 
 It was some time after the accident had 
 happened that Henry Middleton became 
 aware to whom he was indebted ; but after 
 (I believe through Dr. Grey) he and his 
 family knew that it was Mr. Fanshaw who 
 had so kindly succoured him, they were all 
 very unanimous in their expression of grati- 
 tude, and from that time it came to pass that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw were in the habit 
 of receiving constant and friendly atten- 
 tion from all the Middleton family. How 
 this was responded to at first I can hardly 
 say, but by degrees Dora Fanshaw was
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAV/. 311 
 
 beguiled into more intimate acquaintance 
 "vvitli her new friends than, it seems, she 
 had intended. For she said it was very dif- 
 ferent with two quiet, middle-aged people 
 like Dr. Grey and myself, to be on intimate 
 terms, and come and go to their house at 
 all times ; but in such a family as Mr. 
 Middleton's, with young people, it involved 
 so much more than she was prepared for, 
 or that suited " Mr. Fanshaw's retiring 
 habits." Still the intimacy steadily pro- 
 gressed. No one that had seen much of 
 Dora Fanshaw could resist wishing to im- 
 prove the acquaintance, and desiring to 
 see more of her. She yielded at last, but, 
 as it were, under protest, and as the year 
 advanced the intimacy ripened. 
 
 Henry Middleton was in every way de- 
 sirous to include his benefactor, Mr. Fan- 
 shaw, in their constant meetings and mu- 
 sical reunions, but to all the most friendly 
 overtures he remained for the most part 
 insensible, seldom appearing at the Middle-
 
 312 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 tons' house, except to escort his wife home, 
 and then barely remaining longer than a 
 few seconds, unless he yielded to Milli- 
 cent's entreaties that he would just stay 
 and play one little air on the guitar to 
 her, or show her how to fino^er a difficult 
 passage, though Dora was always ready to 
 help her in any musical perplexities. Mil- 
 licent, however, played well on the piano, 
 though her performance was, like herself, 
 devoid of taste and expression, and the 
 result of hard practice. 
 
 Henry Middleton, on the contrary, had 
 a great deal of taste and natural genius, 
 as well as liking for music, but little culti- 
 vation ; but of late, since his acquaintance 
 with the Fanshaws, he appeared desirous 
 of improving and exercising such talent 
 as he possessed. Hence it was that he 
 appeared to seek every opportunity of meet- 
 ing his new and interesting friends, and 
 for a time his sister gladly facilitated his 
 wishes, as they tended ver}^ much to the
 
 ME. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 313 
 
 gratification of her own, in tryin^^ to im- 
 prove their acquaintance with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Fanshaw. But, as I have said, they 
 were far more successful with Dora than 
 with her husband. 
 
 About that time, ho^vever (in the Au- 
 tumn of the year), a fresh interest sud- 
 denly presented itself to Mr. Fanshaw, 
 and for the time being he appeared per- 
 fectly devoted to its enjoyment. This 
 dated from the arrival of a company of 
 provincial actors at our little theatre in 
 Castleford, when their performances ap- 
 peared to afford him unfailing amusement. 
 They made their annual visit generally about 
 the same time, remaining a few weeks, 
 varying according to the encouragement 
 they received. They were a very fair 
 troupe for country performers, and had 
 their regular appointments in various 
 country towns, observing their usual 
 time of going and coming with great 
 punctuality.
 
 314 MRS. grey's reminiscences. 
 
 As soon as they were fairly established 
 in their old quarters at Castleford, it was 
 remarked that their most constant patron 
 was Mr. Fanshaw. Hardly a nig-ht came 
 that he did not make his appearance in 
 the theatre, always in the same place, 
 seated in the dark at the back of the box, 
 and apparently absorbed in the interest 
 and enjoyment of the performance. 
 
 I felt rather glad to hear that the poor 
 man had found something to amuse him, 
 for, music apart, 1 fancied that he and his 
 wife had not many common sources of 
 enjoyment, as it always seemed to me 
 that they must have moved in different 
 orbits of society before they had, for some 
 unaccountable reason, agreed to unite 
 their fates. 
 
 It happened, one morning, that Dora 
 Fanshaw dropped in alone, as she was in 
 the habit of doing, when I asked her if 
 she was as fond of going to the play 
 as I understood Mr. Fanshaw appeared
 
 jm^ 
 
 MR. AND MES. FANSHAW. 315 
 
 to be. She laughed as slie answered, 
 
 " Oh, no ! Mon ami has a perfect pas- 
 sion for the theatre, but I cannot say I 
 partake in the fancy. A good play now 
 and then is very well, but to sit night 
 after night looking at, and listening to 
 these country actors I must say passes my 
 powers of endurance." 
 
 " I almost wonder, then," I replied, 
 " that Mr. Fanshaw can so kindly conde- 
 scend to patronise them, and with all his 
 proficiency in and great musical talent. 
 I think his patience must be sorely 
 taxed." 
 
 "I should think so too," she answered, 
 with a smile ; " but the theatre has an 
 irresistible charm for him — a bad perform- 
 ance is better than none — and then it is a 
 little change from the sameness of our 
 quiet ' evenings at home.' " 
 
 *' But that is his own choice," I ventured 
 to remark. " Mr. Fanshaw might vary 
 his evenings as much as he pleased by
 
 316 MRS. geey's reminiscences. 
 
 passing some of them with you at your 
 friends' houses, and the chances are he 
 would hear some better music than what 
 passes for such at Castleford Theatre." 
 
 " I am sure he would," said Mrs. Fan- 
 shaw ; *' but you must excuse his apparent 
 insensibility to all your, and other friends' 
 kindness. You know we are only birds 
 of passage, and perhaps it is wiser not to 
 cultivate pleasant acquaintances that we 
 must in all probability take leave of ere 
 long." 
 
 This was said with a kind of hesitation, 
 as if it was necessary in some way to 
 account for their manifest reluctance to 
 enter into such society as was open to 
 them in Castleford. I w^as beginning to 
 say something about my hope that an ac- 
 quaintance so happily begun and continued 
 for the space of a whole year, would not 
 be utterly dissolved even when the time 
 came for changing their residence, but had 
 not proceeded far in my observations when
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 317 
 
 tlie servant opened the door and announced 
 "Mr. Henry Middleton." 
 
 Now I bad known that gentleman and 
 also his sister from their infancy, and 
 their father and mother before them, but 
 I had never been in the habit of receiving- 
 such constant calls from Mr. Henry Middle- 
 ton as of late it had been his good pleasure 
 to make at my house. I cannot say I felt 
 greatly flattered, or even gratified by that 
 circumstance. 1 liked the young man, but 
 he had never been particularly intimate at 
 our house, so it was but natural that I 
 should seek some other cause than indivi- 
 dual friendship for these repeated calls. 
 
 On the present occasion I had not far 
 to seek, and it was with extreme concern 
 that I observed the quick flush and the 
 glad light that spread itself over Mrs. 
 Fanshaw's fair face ; whilst I also noted 
 with something like pain the expression 
 of eager pleasure on Henry Middleton's 
 countenance, and the devoted enipressement
 
 318 MRS. geey's eeminiscences. 
 
 of his wliole manner towards her. I felt 
 annoyed with him, and provoked with 
 Dora, and yet I pitied her — for what, 
 thought I, can be the result of such an 
 apparently ill-assorted marriage as she has 
 had the folly to make ? At the same time, 
 I felt determined that Mr. Henry Middle- 
 ton should not make my house a place of 
 rendezvous. I had, of course, nothing to 
 do with his home acquaintances, and only 
 felt sorry that there there would be no bar- 
 rier to the growth of his intimacy with Mrs. 
 Fanshaw. Yet, perhaps I might have an 
 opportunity of dropping a word in season, 
 which might do good on Dora's part, but 
 it would be very difficult to do so, I felt, 
 without giving offence, or, it might be, of 
 confirming an impression of which she 
 might hardly be aware herself at that 
 time. 
 
 The two young people soon became very 
 much engrossed in talking together, and I 
 had no opportunity of saying anything,
 
 MR. AND MRS. FANSHAW. 319 
 
 tliougli I should not have thought of domg 
 so whilst Henry Middletou remained. They 
 both asked my permission to open the piano, 
 and try a song together. I could not re- 
 fuse the leave which, under other circum- 
 stances, I should have been but too happy 
 to grant, for their duet gave me almost as 
 much satisfaction in a musical point of 
 view as it did themselves.' 
 
 I had never seen Dora look so perfectly 
 happy ; no sense of future ill seemed to 
 alarm her. They turned over song after 
 song, laughing and chattering merrily be- 
 tween each. At last she turned to me and 
 exclaimed — 
 
 '' You are sure we do not tire you? But 
 I know, dear Mrs. Grey, how fond you are 
 of music, and your piano suits the voice 
 so well ; it is so much pleasanter to sing 
 to than the one we have hired from the 
 library." 
 
 I could not help putting that little 
 speech into other words, not spoken, but
 
 320 MES. grey's remtniscences. 
 
 felt^ which were, how much pleasanter she 
 found it to sing with her present compan- 
 ion than with the one at home. I feared, 
 indeed, it was so — but what coukl I do? 
 
 Whilst I was thus musing, I was very- 
 thankful to see the door open again, and 
 to hear the name of Mr. Fanshaw an- 
 nounced. I glanced uneasily towards the 
 piano, where Mrs. Fanshaw was so happily 
 engaged, and where the young man by her 
 side was apparently unmindful of every- 
 thing but the intense enjoyment of the 
 present hour. Mr. Fanshaw came in with 
 his rather awkward walk, and twirling his 
 hat in his hand, said abruptly to his wife, 
 after bowing to me, 
 
 " I thought it was getting late, and that 
 you would want me to walk home with 
 you." And then, seeing the lady's occu- 
 pation, he added — '' But if you do not want 
 me, I will go. I can come again ?" 
 
 The last words were spoken inquiringly 
 as his eye fell on Mr. Henry Middleton so
 
 MR. AND MES. FANSHAW. 321. 
 
 happily seated by liis wife, and I looked 
 inquiringly also to see tlie mood in which 
 they were uttered, and also looked at Dora 
 to note the effect produced by her hus- 
 band's entrance. There was certainly no^ 
 embarrassment that I could trace ; she 
 only coloured slightly, and looked up in. 
 his face with something of a conscious 
 smile, but perfect cordiality, and as if not 
 displeased at the interruption ; and then 
 he, the husband ? I saw him return the- 
 smile with another of perfect satisfaction 
 and good humour, as if he were really 
 sorry to interrupt the pleasant tete-a-tete- 
 between his wife and Mr. Middleton ; but 
 she rose immediately from the piano, saying, 
 ^* You are right, mon ami, it is late, and 
 I am ready to depart with thee. I have- 
 had a charming musical hour, thanks to 
 my kiod friend, Mrs. Grey," and then, 
 looking a little shyly towards her lato 
 companion, she added, " and Mr. Middle- 
 ton." 
 
 VOL. I. ' Y
 
 322 MRS. grey's keminiscences. 
 
 Tliat gentleman also got up quickly, 
 saying, 
 
 " All tlie obligation, I am sure, is on my 
 part, for I am but a novice, and you, 
 Mrs. Fanshaw, such a proficient. Ob, do 
 come and try these songs again at our 
 bouse to-morrow morning." 
 
 I thought Mrs. Fanshaw looked nothing 
 loth to accept the invitation, but she hesi- 
 tated, when her husband hastened to her 
 rescue, exclaiming — 
 
 " Oh, do go ; you must give him the 
 encore he supplicates — you ought to have 
 that complaisance." 
 
 " Then I shall expect you both ?" said 
 the young man. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw only bowed and 
 went away. 
 
 " What a strange pair !" thought I. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE.
 
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