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 L I E) R.AFIY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 8Z3 
 C43-t 
 
 v/.l
 
 TWO GENERATIONS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EDUCATION. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY THE EARL OE BELFAST. 
 
 iEtatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores. 
 
 HOBACE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHAED BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 1851.
 
 LONDON: . 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
 
 8^^ 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MARCHIONESS OF D0NE6ALL, 
 
 THESE PAGES ARE INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 HER AFFECTIONATE SON,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " Si cette lettre est trop longue pour une lettre, tirez 
 en une preface ; — cela ne se lit pas." — lamartine. 
 
 Lamartine judged well of the fate of 
 prefaces when he thus wrote. Nine out of 
 ten of those who may favour the author by 
 a perusal of this tale, will turn over these 
 introductory pages, and plunge headlong into 
 the story. 
 
 Yet, with this truth before my eyes, I can- 
 not refrain from saying one word in behalf 
 of these little creatures of my brain, who now 
 leave their native place to *' sail the sea of 
 life."
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 I see them depart with regret and with 
 fear ; I stand like the poor hen upon the 
 shore, while the intrepid ducklings, reared 
 under her wing, disport themselves in the 
 waters, where she may not follow them. 
 
 What were the agony of the showman, were 
 Promethean fire to fall on his puppets, and 
 were he chained to his show-box while they 
 stalked contemptuously from him, and marched 
 off to seek their fortunes in the wide — wide 
 world ! Would he not fear for them the 
 contact of that world, which they had entered 
 without experience, without guidance ? 
 
 Thus have my puppets behaved to me. T 
 have been used to guide them according to 
 my own pleasure. I have held the wires that 
 gave them motion, and I have pulled them 
 as I liked. 1 have rejoiced in their happi- 
 ness — have sorrowed over their misfortunes. 
 
 But now the iron hand of the press has 
 wrested them from my hold. The wires are
 
 PREFACE. VU 
 
 broken ; the show-box is empty ; the puppets 
 are gone! They have plunged headlong into 
 the terrible machinery of the printing office. 
 They have not feared the two-edged sw^ord 
 of criticism that may destroy them at one 
 blow ! 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 January 18, 1851
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE. 
 
 C'est sans doute le commencement.'* 
 
 Non, ce n'est que le commencement de la fin." 
 
 PRINCE TALLEYRAND. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 *' Car Dieu mit ses degres aux fortunes humaines, 
 Les uns vont tout courbes sous le fardeau des peines ; 
 
 Au banquet du bonheur bien peu sont convies, 
 Tons n'y sont pas assis egalement a I'aise, 
 Une loi qui, d'en-bas, semble injuste et mauvaise, 
 
 Dit aux uns : Jouissez, aux autres : Enviez !" 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Brighton ! 
 
 For within thy precincts must I unwillingly 
 lay the opening scene of this my tale. 
 
 And why unwillingly ? 
 
 Because, Brighton, to my mind thy name 
 brings back no pleasing recollections. I am 
 
 B 2
 
 4 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 not one who find pleasure in the luring rays 
 of a deceitful sunshine, tempting its deluded 
 admirers to leave their chimney-corner and 
 arm-chair to he pierced hy cutting winds. 
 
 Because, Brighton, I like to walk without 
 fearing the fall of a chimney-pot, and the 
 abrupt conclusion which its descent might put 
 to my meditations ; because, I like to turn the 
 corners without struggling against the violence 
 of Boreas ; because, in fine, I cannot admire 
 a shore without sand ; a country without 
 trees ; and a sea without shipping ! 
 
 But here I wrong thee, Brighton; for one 
 vessel does occasionally ply upon thy ruffled 
 waters ; if, indeed, this name may be applied to 
 the little packet which crosses to and from 
 Dieppe. 
 
 And thou, little boat, shalt play a part in this 
 my narrative. 
 
 But I anticipate. 
 
 A great crowd is collected on the end of the 
 Chain Pier, waiting the departure of the little
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 5 
 
 steam-packet ' Ruby/ which is to sail for 
 Dieppe in half an hour. The vessel is moored 
 to the pier-head ; and hisses and fumes in a 
 deafening manner, as though determined to 
 show its importance, and prove that it must 
 play the principal part in the scene about to 
 ensue. Nurses with children, led to the spot 
 by curiosity, seem to take pleasure in placing 
 themselves in everybody's way — porters run to 
 and fro with incredible weights on their backs ; 
 and Captain Crossoft, who commands the 
 * Ruby,' with red face and pilot coat, now 
 walks the short deck of his little craft with 
 the air of an Admiral pacing the deck of his 
 seventy-four ; and now turns round to bawl out 
 some unintelligible word in sea jargon, appa- 
 rently for the purpose of impressing the by- 
 standers with a due sense of his supreme 
 importance, since the exclamation does not 
 seem to be attended with any practical result. 
 
 Passengers are arriving by degrees ; barrows 
 full of luggage succeed one another with sur- 
 prising rapidity, and are stowed on board in
 
 b TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 such a manner, that their ever again coming into 
 the possession of their rightful owners appears a 
 hopeless problem. Porters rush in and out of 
 the vessel, over a plank which threatens to break 
 with their weight. Then the farewells, the tears, 
 the parental admonitions, the embraces, the 
 parting gifts ! 
 
 Captain Crossoft seems to be in a towering 
 rage about something, though what that may 
 be is not very clear. A bell rings, his fury 
 increases, the little vessel snorts and screams 
 with redoubled violence ; passengers who are 
 behind their time, are seen running along the 
 pier in breathless haste, waving their hand- 
 kerchiefs to entreat that they may be waited 
 for. 
 
 At last, something like order appears to be 
 established, and the Captain has taken his 
 place at the helm, when a circumstance 
 occurs, which may justly excite that irascible 
 little individual's anger. Eight o'clock has 
 struck, and the last bell has rung for de- 
 parture; everything, in fact, is ready for a
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 7 
 
 start, when a gorgeously attired footman, who 
 had been running at full speed down the pier, 
 succeeds in reaching the end of it before the 
 vessel leaves, and exclaims : 
 
 " Stop, stop, Lord Bewleigh is coming — his 
 carriage is now on the pier." 
 
 " D — n it," says the Captain, " why the 
 de\dl couldn't he come in time. Well, I sup- 
 pose we must wait. Make fast again there." 
 
 All eyes were now turned towards the other 
 extremity of the pier ; where could be descried a 
 close carriage, followed by a fly laden with lug- 
 gage, and in a few minutes the two vehicles 
 were alongside the steamer. 
 
 The carriage was a dark blue vis-a-vis, the 
 panels of which were emblazoned with a huge 
 coat of arms surmounted by a Baron's coronet. 
 The two fine grey horses that had the honour of 
 drawing this aristocratic ark, had evidently been 
 put to a pace to which they were unaccustomed, 
 for they were steaming, and appeared exhausted ; 
 while the fat body-coachman looked as much 
 fatigued by this unwonted speed, as if he had
 
 8 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 been pressed into the service as a third horse, and 
 been driven " unicorn.'* 
 
 Behind this equipage stood a footman, taller, 
 if possible, than the man who had acted as 
 herald, his gold lace and brass buttons shining 
 in the light of the early sun. When the carriage 
 had drawn up, he left his exalted position, and 
 after receiving some orders from the interior, 
 proceeded to superintend the unpacking of the 
 luggage-laden fly, which also contained my 
 Lord's " gentleman," who did his Lordship the 
 honour of brushing his clothes, and standing 
 behind his chair at dinner. All this display evi- 
 dently produced much eiFect on the spectators ; 
 and even the iraJte little Captain, whose anger had 
 subsided into great civility, stood with hat in 
 hand while the tall footman opened the carriage 
 door, and helped Lord Bewleigh to alight. He then 
 offered his arm to a tall young man, who followed 
 Lord Bewleigh out of the carriage. 
 
 Both hastened on board. — '* Let go !" cries 
 the Captain. The engine sent forth a puff^ 
 which seemed to threaten a rupture of its lungs ;
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 9 
 
 and, after a little reluctance on the part of the 
 paddle-wheels, and a consequent inclination of the 
 vessel to one side, which caused great terror 
 amongst those who had started with the deter- 
 mination of being frightened and sick, the 
 * Ruby,' was faii'ly off. 
 
 Then followed kissing of hands and waving 
 of handkerchiefs; and, until all was lost to 
 sight, many a tearful eye was strained to take 
 one fond, perhaps last look at some loved 
 being, thus w^afted away from the ties of 
 affection. 
 
 During this busy scene an episode, too trifling 
 to occupy the attention of persons all-engrossed 
 with their own concerns, yet important to those 
 who would follow the thread of this simple 
 history, had been enacted on the spot which has 
 been described. A tall, handsome-looking man, 
 on whose aristocratic face care had but too 
 plainly marked her furrows, had been an unob- 
 servant witness of the scene before him. He 
 
 B 3
 
 10 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 evidently intended to become a passenger in 
 the * Ruby,' for he was dressed in a thick great 
 coat, had a muffler closely tied about his mouth 
 and throat, and was the owner of a portmanteau 
 and bag, which he had intrusted to a porter, 
 with orders to convey them on board. He 
 remained standing at the end of the pier ; some- 
 times gazing vacantly into the clear water 
 beneath him, and at times suddenly starting, 
 and turning to cast glances of impatience towards 
 the cUff, as though in expectation of some one, 
 whose non-appearance seemed to cause him consi- 
 derable anxiety and surprise. He might be heard 
 to utter unconnected sentences such as these : 
 " She does not come; I cannot sail without seeing 
 her — and yet — " Then, feeling mechanically for 
 his watch, in the place where a watch once had 
 been : " To think that in a few minutes I must 
 leave this country for ever, without bidding her 
 adieu ; without learning how she has borne the 
 fatigues of the journey ! No, no, this is more 
 than human fortitude can endure ; I cannot, will 
 not do so."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 11 
 
 " Here, porter, bring back my luggage ; a 
 portmanteau and a carpet-bag." 
 
 " Why, Sir, she's a-going for to start in five 
 minutes ; the first bell is a-ringing now. Sir." 
 
 " Do what you are told ; bring back my 
 luggage at once : I shall not sail." 
 
 " Lor', Sir, why it's all mixed up with the 
 other luggage ; it'U be a hard job, Sir, for to 
 find it now — " 
 
 " I tell you I am going to remain here. Would 
 you have my luggage go without me ?" 
 
 The porter, evidently displeased at what he 
 considered as an unwarrantable caprice on the 
 part of the gentleman, went reluctantly to seek 
 for the luggage in question, and having suc- 
 ceeded in finding it, which was in truth no 
 easy matter, carried it back to its owner ; but 
 great was his amazement when the latter, 
 turning sharply on him, said : " Take it on 
 board again ; I have changed my mind, and 
 meali to go ;" then soliloquizing, " It must be ; 
 it is a hard trial, but I must bear it." 
 
 At this moment, the beU was ringing for
 
 12 TWO GENERATIONS^. 
 
 starting, and he was preparing to step on board, 
 when his attention was attracted to the equi- 
 page, whose arrival, as the reader already knows, 
 was announced by the tall footman. 
 
 It were impossible to describe the expression 
 of mingled surprise, disdain, and resentment, 
 almost amounting to hatred, which marked the 
 countenance of the " strange gentleman" when 
 he saw Lord Bewleigh alight ; he drew his 
 muffler over his mouth, and slouching his hat 
 as much as possible over his contracted brows, 
 turned his back on the vessel, and going up to 
 the same porter, placed a shilling in his hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " That for you, if you bring away my luggage 
 quietly ; say not a word, and do not let those 
 two gentlemen," pointing to Lord Bewleigh and 
 his son, *' see the direction on it. I shall walk 
 slowly lip the pier — follow me with it." 
 
 " Blest if he ain't a rum 'un any way," 
 said the porter, as he went to bring on sfiore, 
 for the second time, the portmanteau of the 
 " strange gentleman."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 13 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 " Wherein I speak of most disastrous chances. 
 Of moving accidents. ..." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 " Le bonheur et le malheur vont d' ordinaire a ceux 
 qui ont le plus de I'un ou de 1' autre." 
 
 LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 In order to explain in some degree the 
 otherwise unaccountable conduct of the person 
 described in the last chapter, the reader must 
 permit me to bring before him some events 
 which occurred during the night immediately 
 preceding the departiu-e of the ' Ruby.' And a 
 cold, stormy night it was ; such as we are often
 
 14 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 blessed with in this country during the month 
 of November. The winter of '45 had set 
 in unusually early, and with great severity ; and 
 the snow lay deep on the ground, greatly re- 
 tarding the, never very speedy, progress of the 
 night-coach between London and Brighton. 
 For, long before this date, the palmy days of 
 the famous " Age" were past, and the mono- 
 poly of the railroad left but few passengers 
 to the coach, which indeed offered little 
 temptation, being a very rickety, heavy vehicle, 
 drawn by two meagre, half-starved horses — poor 
 substitutes for the four greys which, obeying 
 the well-known hand of a gentleman-coachman, 
 were wont to tear along that road at what 
 might well be termed — the pace I 
 
 On the night in question, the Brighton 
 coach had but five passengers ; though, for a 
 wonder, four of these were " insides," while 
 one solitary individual, who occupied the 
 box-seat, was vainly endeavouring to keep him- 
 self warm with the aid of a cigar, and renewed 
 potations of brandy and water at every inn on
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 15 
 
 the road. But we must devote all our atten- 
 tion to the inside passengers. 
 
 Two of the seats were occupied by a truly 
 John-Bullish looking man and his wife, of 
 respectable and goodly appearance. Both had 
 been busy in devouring the contents of a large 
 basket, weU filled with biscuits, nuts, apples, 
 &c., of which a wonderful consumption had 
 taken place since the coach had started. 
 
 The lady now began to feel sleepy, and was 
 leaning back in the enjoyment of her " nap," 
 while her sposo was straining his eyes to read, 
 by the dim light of the little lamp that faintly 
 illumined the interior, a weekly newspaper, now 
 some days old. The remaining seats were 
 occupied by two ladies, who call for a more 
 minute description. 
 
 The younger of the two was a girl who might 
 have numbered some two-and-twenty years. 
 Her slight and delicate frame was but little pro- 
 tected against the cold night air by a dress of 
 thin black silk, and a plaid scarf wrapped closely 
 round her. Her face had been concealed in a
 
 16 TWO GENERATIONS 
 
 thick veil, which at this moment she threw up 
 in the act of addressing her companion, thereby 
 discovering a countenance by no means beautiful 
 according to the rules of art, yet wearing an 
 expression of mildness and gentleness, which 
 deserved to be called lovely. 
 
 The other lady was by many years her senior. 
 On her face might be traced the marks of former 
 beauty ; her features, though emaciated and 
 sunken, were regular; her figure retained its 
 gracefulness and elegance ; but in all other 
 respects she was but a wreck of by-gone days ; 
 and in her were discernible all the marks of that 
 fearful malady — consumption. As she reclined 
 exhausted against the hard cushions of the 
 coach, it was painful to observe the sunken 
 cheek, the hectic flush, the numerous threads of 
 grey that mingled with her black hair, and the 
 ungloved hand that lay powerless on her knee — 
 traces that marked but too plainly the rapid 
 march of the fatal disease. The exquisite white- 
 ness and transparency of the hand, the lustrous 
 brilliancy of the nails, the thinness of the fingers.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 17 
 
 and the network of blue veins distinctly visible 
 through the skin, all were evidences that could 
 not be mistaken. Her eyes, which had been 
 closed as though in sleep, opened as she pre- 
 pared to answer the inquiries of her young com- 
 panion, and gave forth a lustre — too bright to 
 shine long in this world. 
 
 "Thank you, Edith, I am better; I feel 
 refreshed by my short sleep." 
 
 "Are you cold, dear aunt? Let me wrap 
 this shawl about you," said the girl, divesting 
 herself of her scarf 
 
 " No, no, dear child, I am warm, very warm, 
 I feel faint from heat ; could you not let down 
 the window, that I might breathe the air ?" 
 
 " I cannot do that," replied Edith. " If you 
 are feverish, it would be highly dangerous ; be- 
 sides it is snowing, and the wind is piercing 
 cold." 
 
 The lady gave a short, dry cough, and threw 
 herself back against the cushions of the coach, 
 closing her eyes as though exhausted by the 
 fatigue of this short conversation.
 
 18 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Edith watched her for a few moments with 
 careful anxiety, till she went off to sleep. Then 
 the gentle girl, seeing that her colour increased, 
 and that she grew more feverish, took off her 
 own shawl and placed it carefully across her 
 aunt's chest. 
 
 This act of self-denial attracted the attention 
 of the good-humoured man who sat by her. 
 
 " Well, I never !" exclaimed he ; " why, my 
 dear Miss, you'll take cold sitting there with no 
 shawl on !" 
 
 " Hush, Sir, pray do not speak so loud ; my 
 aunt's sleep is very light." 
 
 " Is she very ill ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Indeed, Sir, I fear she is ; but I hope she may 
 derive some benefit from the air of Brighton." 
 
 " Consumption ?" he inquired. 
 
 Edith could not reply; she gently inclined 
 her head in answer to the thoughtless inquiry ; 
 and a tear, which could not be repressed, fell 
 on her knee. 
 
 He saw that he had pained her, and dropped 
 the conversation ; but took from off the lap of
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 19 
 
 his sleeping spouse one of the many wraps in 
 which she was enveloped, and placing it on 
 Edith's shoulders, said : 
 
 " Pray let me put this on you. No, no, I 
 won't take no refusal ; my Betsy don't want it. 
 Why, look at her, bless you, she's got a good 
 warm cloak on ; and she ain't delicate, my 
 Betsey ain't ; but you look as if you was well- 
 nigh frozen to death. Come now, wear it to 
 oblige me." 
 
 Edith, touched by his kindness, took his rough 
 hand in hers ; thereby expressing thanks which 
 tears would not allow her to utter. 
 
 There was a silence of some minutes, during 
 which the burly individual continued to read his 
 newspaper ; then, as though struck by a sudden 
 thought, he took out one of the sheets, and 
 offered it to Edith : 
 
 "P'raps you'd like to have a look at 
 this. Miss ; I ought to have offered it to you 
 before; but — " 
 
 Edith interrupted his excuses, and smiling 
 through her tears, said: "I am too sad at
 
 20 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 present to find much interest in news ; but I 
 am much obliged to you." 
 
 At this moment, the good man's wife awoke, 
 and inquired of her husband how far they were 
 from Brighton. 
 
 "About twenty miles, my dear." 
 " What news is there in the paper?" 
 "Nothing particular — except a few railway 
 smashes." 
 
 " What, more companies broke !" 
 " Ay, two or three ; here's one very great 
 smash." 
 
 " Let's hear." 
 
 Upon this, the burly man read : 
 " We are sorry to be obliged to announce the 
 failure of another Railway Company. The shares 
 of the C — and R — Company have sunk to a 
 fearful discount. We are informed that the burst- 
 ing of this bubble will seriously affect several 
 persons in a high station of life; amongst 
 others Lord B^^^^^^h (Bewleigh, I suppose, 
 interpolated the burly man), who is said to have 
 speculated to a large amount; and who will
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 21 
 
 doubtless experience severe losses from this 
 unfortunate event." 
 
 Had the reader but known how sharply 
 each word of this paragraph entered the heart 
 of poor Edith ; had he remarked the paleness 
 that suffused her countenance, he would have 
 ceased from inflicting such acute pain ; but he 
 was intent on his paper, and unwittingly con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "We are further informed that a considerable 
 amount of villany and cheating has been brought 
 to light by this expose ; and that — " 
 
 But here his reading was suddenly and 
 violently interrupted ; a loud crash was heard, 
 and the coach fell over on one side, with a force 
 that precipitated the inside passengers on to one 
 another with fearful impetus. A wheel had 
 come oif ; but fortunately on the side where the 
 loving couple were seated opposite to each other, 
 so that the more delicate of the passengers fell 
 upon, in lieu of under, their feUow-travellers. 
 
 The shock had caused the invalid to faint ; 
 but the man-passenger, having succeeded with
 
 22 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 difficulty in opening the window, put out his 
 head, exclaiming: 
 
 " What's the matter ?" 
 
 " Matter !" growled the coachman, " why the 
 hind wheel is come off, and we're six miles 
 from a blacksmith's, — that's all 1" 
 
 The burly man drew in his head covered with 
 snow, which had also entered the coach in great 
 quantities through the open window. A con- 
 versation arose between the driver and a man, 
 whom he had lately taken up at his request 
 that he would " give him a lift," which ended in 
 the latter consenting, for a consideration, to take 
 one of the coach lamps, and start off to bring the 
 distant blacksmith to the spot. 
 
 Three long hours elapsed before he returned, 
 during which the lady 'yclept Betsy did not 
 cease to bewail the ill-luck which attended her 
 on her pleasure-trip to the sea; while Edith, 
 having succeeded in restoring her aunt to con- 
 sciousness, was endeavouring to make her as
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 23 
 
 comfortable as she could possibly be in the 
 inclined position of the vehicle. 
 
 At length the messenger returned^ and with 
 him the blacksmith, who, letting down the 
 window, said : 
 
 " I must trouble you to get out, ladies, if you 
 please, while I mend this 'ere wheel." 
 
 " Get out 1" said Edith, " must we really do 
 so ? I fear the cold will sadly affect this poor 
 lady ; pray tell me whether there is a cottage, or 
 even a shed in the neighbourhood where we 
 could take refuge." 
 
 " There arn't a cottage, nor a shed, nor even 
 a barn within a mile and a half ; but if you 
 hand me out the lady, I'll hoist her out very 
 gingerly, and put her down under this here 
 bank — there's shelter there. Ma'am;" and so 
 saying, he took the invalid in his arms, and 
 carrying her to a place where a slight rise of 
 ground and some shrubs afforded a little pro- 
 tection from the wind and snow, he seated her 
 on one of the cushions of the coach, which he 
 had taken out for this purpose. He next as-
 
 24 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 sisted Edith to alight ; then the two remaining 
 passengers, and proceeded without further delay 
 to his work. The snow was falling fast, and 
 not a star showed its light through the dense 
 mass of darkness that surrounded them on 
 every side. 
 
 Edith was bending over her aunt, and with 
 fostering care endeavoured to alleviate the suf- 
 ferings of the invalid. 
 
 *' It will soon be ready now, dear aunt." 
 
 " Ah ! Edith, this is indeed unfortunate. I 
 am dying, Edith; and this will greatly accele- 
 rate my end." 
 
 "Say not so, dearest; I have hopes that 
 you may be spared to us for many years." 
 
 " Ah, no ! my time is very short ; if I can 
 but live to see him once more, I shall die happy ; 
 but I fear I shall not be permitted to enjoy 
 that blessing — my end is near — very near — 
 my Edith !" 
 
 " Do not despond ; immediately on our arrival 
 at Brighton you will see my uncle. We are 
 not above twelve or thirteen miles from it."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 25 
 
 *'What is the hour now?" 
 " Ahout two, or, perhaps, half-past." 
 " How soon shall we reach Brighton ?" 
 " In less than two hours, T hope." 
 
 As soon as the repairs were completed, the 
 parties entered the coach, which resumed its 
 progress towards Brighton. The remainder 
 of the journey was performed in silence; the 
 invalid was lying back in a state of exhaus- 
 tion ; the burly man and his wife were asleep, 
 and Edith sat absorbed in her own meditations. 
 
 They soon reached the outskirts of Brighton, 
 and welcome was the gleam of the first gas- 
 lamp that acquainted them with their arrival. 
 The snow-storm had ceased, or rather, as is 
 frequently the case at the sea side, had been 
 but very slight in the town. 
 
 A great ball had taken place that night, and 
 was just concluded ; a string of carriages had 
 formed along the Marine Parade, and on the 
 Steine ; link boys were vociferating loudly ; 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 coMchmen, half congealed by the cold, were 
 swearing at each other vehemently, and the 
 coach made its way with difficulty through the 
 maze of carriages. Just at this moment, a 
 link boy called out at the top of his voice : 
 
 " Lady Bewleigh's carriage wanted !" 
 
 The repetition of this name seemed to have 
 a great effect on Edith, for she shuddered and 
 turned quickly towards her aunt to see whether 
 she had heard it : but she rejoiced to find that 
 she slept. At this moment, the pole of one 
 of the numerous carriages, which were pass- 
 ing on all sides, struck the back of the coach, 
 and the shock woke the sleepers. 
 
 " I am glad you have slept, dear aunt," said 
 Edith ; "we are now in Brighton, and shall 
 soon be at the coach-office." 
 
 " Thank heaven !" muttered the elder lady. 
 
 " What's all this fuss, and these carriages ?" 
 said Betsy. 
 
 " I think there is a ball here to-night," 
 replied Edith. 
 
 " Lor ! what lots of carriages and lights ! I
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 2? 
 
 suppose this is the house where it's given ; see 
 how fine it's all lighted up." 
 
 The coach was at this moment passing the 
 house which had been the scene of festivity, 
 and, just then, a voice exclaimed : 
 
 " Lady Bewleigh's carriage stops the way !" 
 This time, the invalid had heard the name, 
 and a shudder that passed over her whole 
 frame, indicated its effect on her. It was not 
 possible to distinguish much of the busy scene 
 from the interior of the coach, for the snow 
 had accumulated on the windows ; all that 
 could be seen was the light of the carriage- 
 lamps, which shone brightly into the coach as 
 they passed rapidly by it ; the brilliant illumi- 
 nation of the house where the baU had taken 
 place was also discernible. The coach had 
 now extricated itself from the labyrinth of car- 
 riages, and had nearly reached the office, when 
 the interior was suddenly illumined by the glare 
 of a lamp shining into it as a carriage shot 
 rapidly by. Although it was not discernible 
 through the opaque windows, Edith experienced 
 
 c 2
 
 28 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 a strange emotion during its passage — a pre- 
 sentiment informed her that it contained Lady 
 Bewleigh returning from the ball. Nor was 
 she deceived ; and, O ! what a contrast was 
 here ! Two creatures, once equal in station, 
 in beauty, equals in years, long estranged, 
 were now, for a moment, brought into close 
 proximity ; but how differently situated ! 
 
 The one, buried in the soft cushions of her 
 luxurious carriage, was returning in costly at- 
 tire from a scene of mirth and festivity; still 
 handsome, still admired, rich, and surrounded 
 v^th all that luxury and refinement can afford. 
 
 The other, exhausted by a long night's 
 journey in an uneasy coach, sick at heart as 
 in body, had reached Brighton without a place 
 wherein to lay her head ; with means barely 
 sufficient to provide for the immediate exigen- 
 cies of life, and only to seek there that de- 
 liverance from her sorrows, that last consolation 
 to the afflicted — Death, beyond whose portals 
 eternal life begins.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Doctor. " This disease is beyond my practice." 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 " Would you be so kind as to call a fly," 
 said Edith to the porter, as the coach drew up 
 in Castle Square ; " and pray allow this lady 
 to remain here until you have done so." 
 
 This was agreed to, and in a few minutes a 
 fly arrived, into which the invalid was carefully 
 placed. 
 
 " Any luggage, m'em," said the porter. 
 
 "Only that small box." 
 
 " Where to, if you please ?" 
 
 Ay, where to ! that was a point which Edith,
 
 30 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 in her anxiety, had not considered. It was 
 useless to appeal to her aunt, whom the exer- 
 tions and exposure of the night had thrown 
 into a high fever, and who appeared unahle to 
 speak. Should she go in search of a lodging ? 
 That were the most economical plan ; but, un- 
 acquainted with Brighton, where to seek one 
 she knew not ; and she must find immediate 
 repose for her aunt, so she replied : 
 
 " I wish to go to some small and cheap 
 hotel, where we can remain until I find a 
 lodging." 
 
 " I know none better than ' The Lion,' in 
 West Street.'' 
 
 "Then pray desire the flyman to drive us 
 there." 
 
 The fly halted before a small inn, which pre- 
 sented a clean and comfortable appearance ; and 
 though they had some little trouble in awaking 
 the inmates, yet they were very civil when 
 they did appear, and assisted Edith in convey- 
 ing her aunt to a room on the second floor ; 
 but seeing that it was one of the best in
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 31 
 
 the house, she asked the hostess to let her 
 have a smaller room, saying that her means 
 were very limited. 
 
 " O ! never mind," interrupted the warm- 
 hearted landlady : " we'll talk of that another 
 time, let the lady 'bide here for the present, 
 any ways." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " added she, as she looked 
 on the wasted form before her ; " she seems 
 very ill ; and you, too, my dear Miss, travelling 
 o' such nights with hardly a wrap on you, I 
 shouldn't wonder if you'd caught your death 
 of cold ! Here, Mary, come quick and light 
 a good fire, and then warm up something for 
 these ladies. What would you and the poor 
 ladylike?" 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself," said Edith ; " my 
 first care will be to put my aunt to bed, and 
 then summon a medical man. I fear she has 
 suffered much from the journey." 
 
 She had, indeed, suffered much from the 
 events of the night, and it was painful to see
 
 32 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 the rapid strides which the disease had made 
 since their departure from London. She had 
 passed from a state of high fever to one of 
 complete inanition; the hectic glow had gone 
 from her cheek and given place to a ghastly- 
 paleness ; her hand, lately hot and dry, was 
 now cold and clammy ; she lay as one dead, 
 and nothing, save a slight beating of the pulse, 
 betokened that life had not completely passed 
 away. Every sort of restorative was applied ; 
 hot water to the feet, warmed flannel, burnt 
 brandy, and various other remedies were sup- 
 plied by the good landlady. Nearly three hours 
 passed ere their anxiety was relieved ; but Edith 
 took no heed of time, and was only reminded 
 of its course by seeing that the sun had risen 
 and was shining in at the window. This re- 
 called to her mind another duty that she had 
 to perform, and she inquired of the landlady 
 at what hour the steamer was to sail for Dieppe. 
 
 " Eight o'clock precisely. Miss." 
 
 " And what is the time now ?"
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 33 
 
 " It wants ten minutes of eight." 
 
 " So late !" said Edith. " Can I run down 
 to the place it starts from in that time ?" 
 
 " Why, my dear young lady, you are surely 
 not going in it, are you ?" 
 
 " No, no ! But tell me quickly, where does 
 it start from ?" 
 
 " From the Chain Pier." 
 
 " Can I reach it in ten minutes ?" 
 
 " No, Miss, it will take you a good quarter of 
 an hour." 
 
 " How unfortunate ! hut I must make the 
 effort. Good, kind Mrs. Brown, may I entrust 
 to you the care of my poor aunt while I am 
 away ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, that you may. See, she is already 
 better ; she has now some colour in her cheeks." 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" said Edith, folding her 
 aunt's shawl round her, and preparing to go out. 
 " Which is my shortest way, Mrs. Brown ?" 
 
 " Straight down the street ; and when you 
 come to the cliff, you'll see the Chain Pier plain 
 enough." 
 
 c 3
 
 34 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Edith rushed down the stairs and hastened 
 along the street ; and after once or twice in- 
 quiring her way, reached the entrance to the 
 pier. While she stopped to pay the small toll, 
 the clock in the gate-keeper's lodge struck eight, 
 and a carriage, followed by a fly, passed at great 
 speed through the gate. She had not time to 
 discern the figure of its occupants, hut she had 
 recognised the arms of Lord Bewleigh on the 
 panel. She turned pale, and was forced to 
 clutch the railing for support. Summoning up 
 her courage, and collecting the httle strength 
 that still remained to her after her fatigue of 
 mind and body, she walked quickly on. 
 
 Her best pace was not, however, equal to 
 that of Lord Bewleigh's greys, and she had the 
 mortification of seeing from afar the scene de- 
 scribed in the first chapter, and of witnessing 
 the departure of the little steamer. The strength 
 which excitement had hitherto lent now failed 
 her, and she sank exhausted on a seat. 
 
 " He is gone !" she exclaimed, in piteous 
 accents, "he is gone, never to return, and I
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 35 
 
 have not seen him ! — and he will never see my 
 poor aunt again !" A copious flood of tears 
 came to her reUef, and drawing down her veil, 
 she gave vent to them for a few minutes, when 
 a well-known voice whispered in her ear : 
 
 " Edith, is it you ?" 
 
 She sprang up, and threw herself into the 
 arms of him who had addressed her, and who, 
 as will probably have been divined, was none 
 other than the person whose capricious conduct 
 had won for him the name of the " strange gen- 
 tleman." He gently withdrew from her embrace, 
 placed her on the bench, and seating himself 
 beside her, said : 
 
 " When did you arrive, Edith ? how did your 
 aunt bear the journey ?" 
 
 " But indifferently," replied she, not wishing 
 to alarm him by disclosing the real state of her 
 aunt. " We arrived some hours ago ; but O, dear, 
 dear uncle ! how glad I am to find you still here, 
 I so much feared, when I saw the vessel start, 
 that you were on board. How did it happen 
 that you did not go with it ?"
 
 36 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " I could not make up my mind to do so 
 without seeing you and your aunt once again. 
 Besides — I had another reason, which I will 
 explain later. Come," said he, rising, " let us 
 now go to your aunt, and tell me, as we walk, 
 why you arrived so late ?" 
 
 Edith hesitated, she did not like to tell him 
 that the deplorable state of her aunt's health 
 had detained her, so she replied : 
 
 " We had an accident in the coach." 
 
 " An accident ! I trust your aunt is not 
 hurt?" 
 
 '* No — no one was hurt, hut it caused a long 
 delay ; and she was tired and much shaken, and 
 I could not leave her until she was in bed, and 
 well taken care of. But, dear uncle, is it not a 
 bold step on your part to remain here ?" 
 
 " Indeed it is, though I have hopes that, for 
 a few days, I shall not be discovered. I shall 
 not leave the house, and I have reason to think 
 that my pursuers are at present on a wrong 
 scent; but I could not depart v^ithout seeing 
 vou both, and, moreover, I could not — " but
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 37 
 
 he checked himself, and both walked on in 
 silence till they reached the door of ' The Lion/ 
 when Edith said : 
 
 *^ My poor aunt's delicate state makes me fear 
 the smallest excitement for her ; pray wait here 
 till I have prepared her for your appearance." 
 
 She ran up stairs, entered the room noise- 
 lessly, and found Mrs. Brown sitting beside the 
 bed. The latter made signs to her that the 
 invalid was asleep, and advancing towards her, 
 said: 
 
 " She is better, Miss ; she has taken a little 
 broth, and is now dozing." 
 
 "My uncle, her husband, is below; I will 
 bring him up here," said Edith. " I am glad 
 she is better ; how kind of you, Mrs. Brown, to 
 be so attentive to her, I am sure he wiU thank 
 you very much ; but he shall express his obliga- 
 tion himself." 
 
 She summoned her uncle, who silently 
 entered the room where his w^ife lay asleep ; the 
 curtains were closed all round her, except on 
 the further side of the bed, so that for a few
 
 38 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 moments she was concealed from his view ; but 
 when he gazed on the wreck that remained to 
 him of one whom he had loved so devotedly, 
 of one from whom he had scarcely ever been 
 separated, even for a day, during the course of 
 his married life, and who must so soon be torn 
 from him for ever, he concealed his face in his 
 hands, and sank heavily on a chair, 
 
 " Poor gentleman," said the landlady, almost 
 moved to tears, *' how sad — how very sad !" 
 
 After the lapse of a few minutes. Captain St. 
 Meurice recovered his composure, and inquired 
 of the hostess whether she knew of a physician 
 in the neighbourhood. She replied that Dr. 
 Wilson always attended her, (though she did 
 not look as if she often required an exercise of his 
 skill.) The Captain requested her to send for 
 him immediately, which she at once prepared to 
 do, leaving Edith and her uncle in the sick- 
 room. Both sat by the bed of the sleeping invalid, 
 but they gazed on her in silence ; the hearts of 
 both were too full to allow them to speak. 
 
 The doctor arrived, and the patient was
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 39 
 
 wakened to receive his services. He felt her 
 pulse and examined her hand, but he asked no 
 question ; for alas ! he saw that all effort to save 
 her must be vain. 
 
 " Tell me the worst," said her husband, " do 
 not spare me, I can bear it ; tell me the truth — 
 can she live ?" 
 
 The physician shook his head gravely, and his 
 countenance wore a mournful expression, which 
 told but too plainly that he had no hope ! 
 
 " How long may she yet be spared to us ?" 
 asked St. Meurice, with w^onderful self-pos- 
 session. 
 
 " It were impossible for me to say," replied 
 the doctor, " her malady is of so uncertain a 
 nature, that I could not venture to prescribe a 
 limit to her existence, but I dare not give you 
 hopes beyond a very few days." 
 
 " Can you do nothing for her ; nothing to 
 relieve her sufferings; nothing to prolong her 
 stay on earth?" 
 
 " I fear that my art is but of little avail here ; 
 and if I must say it, she is in one of the very
 
 40 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 last stages of consumption. I will prescribe 
 something that may relieve her, but I cannot 
 think that any remedy will be of permanent 
 service." 
 
 The wretched husband replied not ; he wept 
 not, his grief was mute ; but its intensity was 
 shown by the clenching of his hand, the biting 
 of his lips, and his hurried step as he paced the 
 room. The doctor saw that his grief was past 
 assuaging by any word of consolation, and after 
 addressing a few instructions to the landlady, 
 he silently left the room, and closed the 
 door upon a scene of agony too deep to be 
 described.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 '* Negar, disse, non posso che I'affanno 
 
 Che va innauzi al morir, non doglia forte, 
 
 ****** 
 
 Ma pur che I'alma in Dio si riconforte, 
 E '1 cor, che 'n se medesmo forse e lasso, 
 Che altro, ch'un sospir breve e la morte ?" 
 
 PETRARCA. TRIONFO BELLA MORTE. 
 
 " I wept, tho' I should die, I know 
 That all about the thorn will blow, 
 In tufts of rosy- tinted snow. 
 
 Not less the bee would range her cells. 
 The furzy prickle fire the dells. 
 The fox-glove cluster dapple bells. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 Time rolled on. By one of those unaccount- 
 able changes not unfrequent in cases similar to 
 that of Mrs. St. Meuiice, the patient had
 
 42 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 revived, and though still very weak, was suffi- 
 ciently restored to allow of her leaving her bed, 
 and sitting up, without much fatigue, for a few 
 hours in her arm-chair. Her husband, oblivious 
 of all save his devotion to her, had remained in 
 Brighton, but never left the house for fear of 
 discovery. It was beautiful to see his unremitting 
 attention to his wife : he passed hours in reading 
 aloud to her a few books which the landlady's 
 very limited library supplied, and in watching 
 by her pillow while she slept, scarcely ever 
 leaving her side. His great care was to conceal 
 from her the insecurity of his position, and the 
 deplorable state of his affairs, for she had never 
 been informed of the large amount to which he 
 was involved, and he would not for worlds have 
 let her know, that in paying the doctor's fees, 
 and in purchasing the medicine prescribed, he was 
 spending the last sovereigns in his possession. 
 
 It was a bright January day, the sun had 
 reached his meridian ; the wind blew gently from 
 the south, and scarce a ripple could be discerned 
 on the vast expanse of the clear green sea.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 43 
 
 Mrs. St. Meurice had been sitting near the 
 window, but from her room the sea was not 
 visible, and the slanting rays of a winter sun 
 could not penetrate into the narrow street in 
 which the room was situated. 
 
 " Henry," she said, " I feel so much better, 
 that I think I could go out for a short time ; I 
 should like once more before I die, to see the sun 
 in his glory, and to feel once more the cooling 
 sea-breeze on my parched cheek." 
 
 " Dearest, I fear the exertion for you, do 
 you think you could bear it without fatigue ?" 
 
 " Do not refuse me," she pleaded, " I have 
 set my heart on this little indulgence, and as I 
 can live but a very short time longer, it can- 
 not much matter. Bear with me this once, 
 Henry," she added, with a sweet, but sickly 
 smile. 
 
 A wheel-chair was called, and Mrs. St. 
 Meurice was carried to it. Her husband did 
 not venture to accompany her, but Edith 
 walked by her side. How refreshing to her 
 was the balmy air as she passed along the
 
 44 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 cliff, and inhaled the soft breeze of the sea. 
 She appeared to revive under its soothing 
 influence, and protracted her drive far beyond 
 the time she had named for returning home. 
 She gazed with the delight of a child on the 
 lively panorama passing before her, and then 
 turned to scan the still expanse of ocean that 
 shone with the refraction of the sun's rays. 
 
 " How well does the sea typify eternity," 
 said she, musingly, " that eternity ere which I 
 shall soon — very soon enter ! Its boundless 
 expanse, only broken where it meets the 
 horizon of our mortal view, leaving us to 
 imagine a vastness far greater beyond, is a 
 fitting emblem of the immensity of eternity; 
 our human understanding is as the line of 
 yon sky, which prevents us from compre- 
 hending its stupendous magnitude, and our 
 imagination becomes lost in the unfathomable 
 depths of the mysterious gulf. As the sea 
 appears to-day bright, calm, and peaceful, so 
 will eternity be for the good ; as that same ocean 
 is seen when agitated by the raging of the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 45 
 
 storm, so will eternity prove to those who have 
 despised their Creator in this world." 
 
 She paused, and fell into deep meditation. 
 Edith suggested that it were advisable to return 
 home, lest her aunt should be over-fatigued. 
 
 " One moment more," said she, " that I 
 may bid farewell to that bright orb which will 
 rise to my view no more ! Will it shine the 
 less brilliantly ; will these busy men walk the 
 less quickly ; will any heart, save yours and 
 Henry's, beat the less equably, because I am 
 
 not r 
 
 " Dear aunt, do not thus despond, you are 
 much better, and will yet be spared to us a long 
 time, I trust." 
 
 " No, Edith, I feel a conviction that this is 
 my last day upon earth. I thank God that it 
 is a bright one, and that I have been enabled to 
 admire once more the beauty of His works before 
 my eyes close on them for ever." 
 
 Edith felt that it were vain to reply, but 
 silently motioned the driver to conduct her 
 home.
 
 46 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 St. Meurice was waiting at the door to receive 
 her, and gently lifting her from the chair, he car- 
 ried her to her room. She expressed herself 
 tired, and desired to go to bed at once. 
 
 This was speedily effected, and soon after- 
 wards she received a visit from the clergyman of 
 the parish, who, having heard from the landlady 
 of the sad state of the invalid, now called to 
 offer her such relief as he could afford. She 
 expressed herself grateful for his attention, and 
 conversed with him more than an hour. 
 
 How sweet was the balm of consolation 
 which he poured into her wounds ! He spoke 
 of the mercy of God ; he painted the joys and 
 glories of a happy eternity ; he contrasted 
 her troubles and sufferings on earth, with the 
 everlasting peace and felicity that awaited her in 
 heaven ! 
 
 He rejoiced to see how resignedly she was 
 prepared for the great change that must soon 
 come over her, he perceived with joy the deep 
 root that religion had taken in her heart, and 
 when he looked on her emaciated form, he ex-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 47 
 
 claimed : "As in thy case ' to live has been 
 Christ,' so surely to die * shall be gain.' " 
 
 She thanked him warmly for his visit, and 
 added : 
 
 " If I may ask one further favour, kind Sir, 
 it is that 5'ou return here this evening. I should 
 find so much comfort in hearing once more 
 those consoling and encouraging words, and to- 
 morrow, I shall no longer be here to listen to 
 them." 
 
 The clergyman abstained from attempting to 
 argue away this presentiment, and promised to 
 renew his \4sit as she desired. 
 
 After his departure, Mrs. St.Meurice requested 
 Edith to read her a chapter of the Bible, which 
 she did, opening the book at the sixteenth 
 Psalm. Her voice faltered as she read these 
 words : 
 
 " ' I have set the Lord always before mine 
 eyes ; because He is at my right hand I shall not 
 be moved. 
 
 " ' Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory 
 rejoiceth : my flesh also shall rest in hope.
 
 48 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " ' For thou wilt not leave my soul in heU : 
 neither wilt thou suffer thine holy one to see 
 Corruption. 
 
 " * Thou wilt show me the path of life : in 
 thy presence is fullness of joy : at thy right hand 
 there are pleasures for evermore.' " 
 
 Her tears fell fast on the book, and for a 
 moment her sight was dimmed ; but on look- 
 ing at her aunt, and perceiving that she had 
 fallen asleep, she closed the sacred volume, and 
 sat quietly by the bed-side, watching her 
 slumbers.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 *' 0, Sir ! the good die first ; 
 And those whose hearts are dry as summer dust 
 Burn to the socket ! — 
 
 " Tear me from home at this dread moment — No ! 
 Cruel ye are, and very hard of heart. 
 But this ye cannot do." 
 
 OLD PLAY. 
 
 The clock has just struck nine. Mrs. St. 
 Maurice is still asleep, Edith still seated by her 
 side. 
 
 The breathing of the patient appears heavy, 
 but her slumbers are deep and peaceful, and a 
 smile that plays over her features, would seem to 
 tell that some ministering angel is bestowing 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 upon her a foretaste of the joys which she is so 
 soon to enter upon. 
 
 Edith, wearied by her walk, and exhausted with 
 much watching and anxiety, has also fallen into 
 a state of unconsciousness, the Captain has left 
 the room ; aU within it is tranquil and silent, 
 when on a sudden, Mrs. St. Meurice wakes and 
 gasps out : 
 
 " Edith, I am dying — " A torrent of blood 
 pours from her mouth, and dyes the bed-clothes 
 with its red stain. Edith, dreadfully alarmed, 
 rushes to the door, and cries in frenzied accents : 
 " Uncle, Mrs. Brown, my aunt is dying — help ! 
 help 1 she is dying l" 
 
 The landlady and the Captain hurried up the 
 stairs at her cry, and found the life-stream still 
 flowing from her mouth. 
 
 " Oh, God ! she is dying 1" exclaimed St. 
 Meurice, " quick, a physician — is no one here ?" 
 
 " I will send," said the hostess. 
 
 " No, I will go myself — " and so saying, he 
 rushed frantically from the room. After a
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 51 
 
 minute, the flow of blood ceased, and Mrs. St. 
 Meurice fell back on the pillow. 
 
 There appeared in her no sign of life, her 
 cheek and lip were colourless, her eye was glazed 
 and lifeless, her pulse had ceased, no breathing 
 was audible, her heart beat no longer, and she lay 
 as one lifeless. Edith bent over her, and piously 
 pressed her lips to her forehead, when suddenly 
 the patient rose up with fearful energy, and 
 sitting upright in the bed, exclaimed : 
 
 " Edith, you must make me two promises 
 before I die ; will you do this ?" 
 
 Edith could not speak, but bowed her head in 
 assent. 
 
 " Promise me, then, to live with and watch 
 over your uncle, and to replace me as far as 
 you are able." 
 
 " It shall be my most sacred duty." 
 
 " One more request — the last — one which 
 will demand a greater sacrifice on your part ; 
 but can you deny the prayer of your dying 
 aunt ? Promise me that you never will marry 
 Va . . . Valeri ..." 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY Off
 
 52 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 But she could not finish the sentence. She 
 sank back, and Edith, who had recoiled for an 
 instant in terror, sprung to her aunt's side, and 
 pressed her lips on her cheek. Alas ! she did 
 not feel that kiss. Edith had embraced — a 
 corpse ! 
 
 Captain St. Meurice, it will be remembered, 
 had left the house in quest of the doctor. He 
 was too excited to reflect on the danger of ap- 
 pearing out of doors; no thought was in his 
 mind, save anxiety to procure immediate advice 
 for his wife. He had found the doctor at home, 
 and the two had returned together, with the 
 utmost speed to the * Lion,' which they reached 
 about ten minutes after the scene just described. 
 St. Meurice rushed up stairs. He was stopped 
 on the landing by the clergyman, who had called 
 since his departure, according to the promise he 
 had made to Mrs. St. Meurice, and had kindly 
 undertaken to break to the unfortunate husband 
 the news of his bereavement.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 63 
 
 " My dear Sir," said he, " do not enter that 
 room; let the doctor go in alone, while you 
 listen to a few words I would say to you ;" and 
 he led him into a vacant room on the same 
 landing. 
 
 " How is she ? — how is she ?" cried St. 
 Meiuice, in piteous accents. " Are those dan- 
 gerous symptoms past? For God's sake do 
 not keep me in this dreadful suspense," added 
 he, without leaving the clergyman time to answer 
 his question. The latter closed the door, took 
 St. Meurice by the arm, and led him to a seat. 
 
 " Hear me. Sir, and prepare to submit with 
 christian resignation to the will of the Al- 
 mighty." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed the Captain, " is she 
 . . . . " He could not pronounce the dread 
 word. 
 
 " Be not so agitated." 
 
 " I will not be detained here ; what right 
 have you to do so ?" cried the wretched man, 
 who scarce knew what he said. " You shall not
 
 54 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 keep me from her. I will go and see what it is 
 you are concealing from me ;" and bursting 
 from the hold of the clergyman, he rushed 
 madly into the dark passage. 
 
 His progress was arrested by an iron grasp 
 fixed on his collar. He turned not to see who 
 thus held him ; but with eyes fixed on the door 
 of his wife's chamber, exclaimed : 
 
 " Unhand me, or I — " 
 
 " Na, na, my fine gen'lman, not so easy as 
 all that neither. So we've got you, 'ave we, and 
 we ain't a going for to let you go, I can tell 
 yer. You've been a dodgin' of us hup and down 
 nicely, av'nt yer. Ye're a sharp 'un, my lad, 
 but we're sharper than you, ain't we Sam? 
 Ha, ha, ha !" This horrible laugh was echoed 
 by several voices ; and though he could dis- 
 tinguish nothing in the total darkness, the truth 
 flashed across him. 
 
 He was seized — arrested for debt ! 
 
 The landlady, who had admitted the strangers 
 on their saying that they had urgent business
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 55 
 
 with Captain St. Meurice, arrived at this 
 moment with a candle, and started back at the 
 spectacle before her. 
 
 The feeble light illuminated dimly the picture • 
 but she could distinguish her lodger, whom she 
 had looked on as a paragon of all that was kind 
 and generous, surrounded by the four strangers 
 who had forced their way up the stairs. One 
 held him by the collar, another grasped his arm, 
 and the other two were looking on with grim 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The clergyman, who had followed St. 
 Meurice out of the room on hearing the noise 
 of voices in the passage, stood in the back- 
 ground, and looked with amazement on the 
 group before him. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this," inquired 
 he, " my dear Sir, what has happened ?" 
 
 The Captain made a sign with his hand ; 
 overcome with awe and agitation, he was unable 
 to reply. 
 
 The clergyman turned to the strangers.
 
 56 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " What am I to gather from this ; what do 
 you want with this gentleman ?" 
 
 " Vy, Sir," said the cockney, " only he's a 
 bird as ve as been a trying to catch this many 
 a day, and he's been a dodgin' of us for some 
 veeks. Ve know'd he vas in Brighton, but has 
 he never broke cover, vy you sees, Sir, ve vas'nt 
 able to nab 'em. Only to-night, you see, ve 
 vas standing on the cliff, and ses I to Tom 
 Briggs : ' I'm blow'd if that ain't the wery bird 
 'isself ' ' Vere ? ses he ; '* vy there,' ses I ; and 
 a pretty considerable rate he's runnin' at. That 
 'ouse as he come out of 's his nest I guess. So 
 you and Dick Vaters go and stand at the top of 
 that 'ere street, and Sam and I'll stay 'ere, and 
 it's funny if we don't succeed in nabbin' of 'im. 
 Veil, Sir, so ve vaited . . . ." 
 
 The clergyman interrupted his narrative : 
 " But what do you want with him ?" 
 
 " Vant vith 'im !" cried the Londoner, " vy 
 vot a hinnicent you must be. Vy ve vants to 
 to take 'im off in a ackney-coach, and lodge 'im
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 57 
 
 in a remarkable pleasant place called a pris'n — 
 that's all ; but vot's the use of stopping here, a 
 vasting preshus vords; come, my coves, look 
 sharp 'ere, the gen'lman appears to be in a bad 
 vay, so just give 'im a lift down stairs." 
 
 Edith hearing the tumult, and the sound of 
 unfamiliar voices, opened the door of the sick 
 room. She stood aghast at the sight that met 
 her view, she rushed up to St. Meurice, and 
 threw her arms round his neck, exclaiming : 
 
 " Uncle, dear uncle, what has happened? 
 What do these men want ? Speak to me." 
 
 He feebly muttered : " Edith, how is your 
 aunt ?" 
 
 This question reminded her of the loss she 
 had sustained, which, in her new cause for 
 alarm, she had for an instant forgotten. The 
 fearful state of her own position flashed on her 
 mind ; for she had now some inkling of the true 
 state of her uncle's case. She saw that she 
 would shortly be thrown upon the world, with- 
 out protection, without a friend, without 
 hope. 
 
 D 3
 
 58 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 All this dreadful reality appeared to her at 
 once ; and she fell fainting into the arms of the 
 landlady. 
 
 The clergyman took St. Meurice's hand, and 
 said softly : " She whom you inquired for is no 
 more." 
 
 " Thank heaven !" exclaimed St. Meurice, 
 " she has at least been spared this trial." He hid 
 his face in his hands and wept like a child. 
 
 " Come, I think ve've 'ad enough of all this 
 vork," said the bailiff, " if I see much more of 
 this blubberin', I think I shall set to a blubberin' 
 myself. Now then, down with 'im — now my 
 lads, be quick there." 
 
 " Uncle, uncle, do not leave me," cried 
 Edith, reviving, and stretching out her hands 
 towards St. Meurice. 
 
 The clergyman stepped before them. " You 
 cannot surely be so cruel as to take him away at 
 this awful moment; learn. Sirs, that he has 
 within the last half hour experienced a fearful 
 bereavement, and look at the state of his poor 
 niece," said he, pointing to the fainting form of
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 59 
 
 Edith. " I beseech you to have pity on his 
 melancholy situation; leave him here for to- 
 night ; I will guarantee that he shall not leave 
 the house." 
 
 " That's all wery fine, but it von't do ; he 
 must come along vith us. Vy, Sir, if you 
 know'd how he's been a dodgin' of us hup and 
 down . . . . " 
 
 "It is useless to repeat that," said the clergy- 
 man, disgusted at the biTitality of the man. 
 " Can I be of any service in assisting him — 
 what is the amount of his habilities ?" " 
 
 " Vy, if you've got some five or ten thousand 
 pound as you don't know vot to do vith, and 
 feels inclined to fork out for this genl'man, vy 
 you may — but if so be as you don't do this, he 
 must come along vith us. Ve aint a going for 
 to let him go, I can teU you. Vy, Sir, he's 
 been a dodgin' of us hup and down . . . . " 
 
 " Five or ten thousand pounds !" exclaimed 
 the clergyman. " Can this be true, Sir ?" 
 
 St. Meurice made a sign, which signified that 
 it was but too true.
 
 60 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " I thought as you'd be flabbergasted ven I 
 told you the sum ; but as it appears you aint 
 inclined to fork out, ve must go on : come, Bill, 
 and let's help this genl'man." 
 
 " Ruffians !" exclaimed St. Meurice, suddenly 
 recovering his energies, " ruffians, I will see her 
 once more ! Unhand me — ^let me go !" and 
 with a violent effort, for which his captors were 
 unprepared, he freed himself from their hold, 
 and rushed frantically into the room where lay 
 his wife's dead body. The bailiffs were about 
 to follow him; but the clergyman seized the 
 arm of the first : 
 
 " You shall not cross that threshold ;" said 
 he, with a dignified air, " the chamber of death 
 is sacred." 
 
 " But I s'pose there's vinders in the chamber 
 of death as you calls it, as veil has in hany other 
 chamber ; and how do I know as he von't get 
 out by 'em ? vich vould be a pretty go, after 
 he's been dodgin' of us hup and down." 
 
 The clergyman entered the room and closed 
 the door. Death has in itself a dread majesty,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 61 
 
 which awes even the most hardened ; and brutal 
 as were the men thus shut out, not one of them 
 dared to open the door of the room where Mrs. 
 St. Meurice lay. 
 
 Edith was still on the landing-place ; restora- 
 tives had succeeded in bringing back animation ; 
 and, in the vain hope that her prayer might be 
 of some avail, she thus addressed the bailiffs : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I entreat you to let my uncle 
 remain here. I know it to be too true that he 
 owes a heavy sum, perhaps to the fearful amount 
 you mentioned ; but he had no criminal intention 
 in incurring that debt ; indeed he had not ; he 
 was led into it — deceived, cheated ; — and when 
 ruined, forsaken ! — my poor aunt breathed her 
 last to-night ; and if you take my uncle from 
 me, I am left alone on the wide world, without 
 one being to whom I can look for protection. 
 Sirs, I am very young, an orphan — I never had 
 a friend save two ; one is — dead ; and would 
 you take from me the remaining one, the sole 
 stay of my existence ? 1 have not a relation in
 
 62 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 the world to whom I can apply even for a place 
 wherein to lay my head ; 1 have not a shilling 
 to buy food, and if you take my uncle from me, 
 you leave me to perish of hunger and despair ! 
 If any one of you have ever lost a wife to whom 
 you were devotedly attached; one whom, for 
 twenty years, you loved and cherished, from whom 
 you were never parted even for a day — then you 
 will feel for my poor uncle, and have compassion 
 on him. In pity then, for my helpless state, in 
 pity for his affliction, do not tear him from me ; 
 or, if you must do so, if, as I fear, you may not 
 yield to your feelings of sympathy — at least 
 suffer me to go with him. My last promise to 
 my dying aunt was, that I never would leave 
 him — that I would watch over him. Do not 
 force me so soon to break my vow, but take me 
 also ; and if this weight of affliction should kill 
 me, let me at least die in his arms !" She fell 
 at the feet of the bailiffs, and sobbed convul- 
 sively. 
 
 The door of the chamber of death opened,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 63 
 
 and St. Meurice stood at the entrance. He was 
 deadly pale, but he advanced firmly, and seemed 
 much more calm. 
 
 " Edith," said he, lifting her from the ground, 
 *' we must part." 
 
 " I will — go — with you ; you shall not — ^leave 
 me," sobbed she. 
 
 " My dearest girl, that cannot be ; but this 
 kind friend," pointing to the clergyman, " has 
 taken compassion on us, and has promised to 
 afford you refuge in his own house until I suc- 
 ceed in effecting some arrangement with my 
 creditors. This is, indeed, a fearful blow," he 
 added, with wonderful self-possession, " but it is 
 our duty to bear our misfortunes with resigna- 
 tion. I am innocent of crime, even that of in- 
 tentionally wronging another. But I w^ill not 
 dwell on these sad matters, nor protract this pain- 
 ful interview. Farewell, dearest Edith, God grant 
 that our separation be not long, and that our 
 meeting be happier than our parting." 
 
 " Farewell," said Edith, throwing her arms 
 round his neck, " Farewell, I — cannot — I am
 
 64 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 sure— I — shall not — " But she was senseless. 
 
 St. Meurice gently withdrew her arms from 
 his neck, and extricated himself from the close 
 embrace in which she held him. He shook the 
 landlady's hand, who, sobbing, cried : 
 
 *' God bless you. Sir." 
 
 Then turning to the clergyman, he said : 
 
 " Kind friend, no words can express my feel- 
 ings towards you. I entrust to your care the 
 dearest being that now remains to me ; the only 
 link that binds me to the world ! I trust I 
 may prove myself worthy of your kindness. 
 Farewell !" added he, warmly pressing his hand. 
 " Now, Sirs, I am at your service." 
 
 He stepped firmly into the fly, followed by the 
 bailiffs. He did not turn to gaze on the scene 
 of his misfortunes as the carriage drove away. 
 The clergyman watched it until it turned on to 
 the cliff, and was lost to view.
 
 GENERATION THE FIRST. 
 
 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 PART I.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 67 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "I think it not impertinent, sometimes, to relate 
 such accidents as may seem no better than mere trifles ; 
 for even by trifles are the quaUties of great persons as 
 well disclosed as by their great actions ; because in 
 matters of importance they commonly strain themselves 
 to the observance of general commended rules ; in lesser 
 things they follow the current of their own natures." 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 In the conduct of our narrative hitherto, we 
 have adopted the approved practice of carrying 
 the reader in medias res; but we must now 
 retrace our steps awhile, that we may explain 
 by what circumstances our personages have
 
 68 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 been brought into the predicament in which we 
 leave them. 
 
 From such a scene of distress, it is pleasing to 
 turn to the calm repose of the country on a fine 
 October evening. The beauty of an autumn 
 day imparts to the lover of nature a peculiar 
 sensation of pleasure, which not the freshness of 
 May nor the radiance of July can inspire, for it 
 breathes a melancholy gladness, such as we feel 
 in the society of a dear friend who soon must 
 leave us. We are chary of the few hours that 
 remain to us of his society, we grudge the 
 minutes in which we are not with him, and vet 
 we never can forget the course of time in the 
 charms of conversation. The clock appears to 
 tick within our breast, reminding us that the 
 hour of separation is at hand, and we experience 
 an uncomfortable sense of anxiety lest we should 
 not be able to say aU that we wish to express 
 before the moment of parting. The last words 
 of a loved being are always the dearest, the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 69 
 
 most fondly treasured in memory ; and are not 
 the few green leaves of October, are not the 
 few remaining flowers that give forth double 
 fragrance, as if to ask a place in our memory ; 
 are not these the last words, the swan song of 
 the year ? 
 
 In one of the southern counties of England, 
 the part of our island that nearest approaches 
 in climate to the more favoured lands of the 
 South, stood Bewleigh Hall. Built during the 
 reign of Elizabeth, it partook of that style of 
 architecture which was named after the " Virgin 
 Queen." Its walls of solid red brick — the 
 most English of all building materials — seemed 
 to bid defiance to time, whose only trace lay in 
 their slight discolouration, and the little tufts of 
 moss that jutted out of the stonework round the 
 deep-sunken windows. On the broad terrace 
 surrounding the house, stood the present owner 
 of this noble pile. He leaned over the parapet, 
 and was gazing vacantly on the extensive view
 
 70 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 before him. His gun lay by his side, and a large 
 retriever, wearied with the day's sport, was 
 watching anxiously his master's movements ; his 
 tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, and his 
 large eloquent eyes seemed to ask for the caress 
 he usually met on returning from the performance 
 of his faithful service. 
 
 But Lord Bewleigh was too much abstracted 
 to notice the dog, and remained absorbed in his 
 meditations. For to-morrow he was to commence 
 in earnest the battle of life. This was the last 
 evening he intended to pass in England for some 
 years to come — and what changes might not 
 occur ere he returned to Bewleigh ! Was he 
 destined to find the path of existence smooth ? 
 was it fated that he should complete his intended 
 travels without let or hindrance in the virtual 
 monotony of change of scene ; or was his future 
 pregnant with events, and the star under which 
 he departed, a propitious one ? 
 
 These, perhaps, were not exactly the thoughts
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 71 
 
 that filled his mind ; yet a project of long travel 
 will always give rise to some meditation, even in 
 the most unreflecting : especially would it do so 
 in the days of which we speak, when traveUing 
 was not merely a race against time, as it is in 
 these railroad days ; for with that license which 
 enables both writer and reader to annihilate time 
 and space, we have gone back some five-and- 
 twenty years since we left the death-bed of Mrs. 
 St. Meurice, and the Lord Bewleigh, whose 
 arrival caused such commotion on the Brighton 
 pier, is the same that stands before us now, a 
 youth of two-and-twenty. His shooting-dress 
 displayed to advantage his manly figure, and 
 his slouched hat cast over his face a shadow 
 such as Velasquez used, to throw out with more 
 effect the salient points of his dark-complexioned 
 subjects. Lord Bewleigh's face rather partook of 
 this Spanish nature ; his very black hair and large 
 moustache (which had been suffered to grow in 
 anticipation of his foreign tour), the thick eye-
 
 72 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 brows overshadowing his ver}^ sunken eye of 
 brilliant black, all tended to impart to his 
 countenance that sombre yet impassioned 
 character, so commonly indicated by the Spanish 
 painters. His dress was calculated to assist 
 the illusion, being all of black materials, for 
 he was in mourning for his father, who had 
 left him his titles and estates only a few 
 months before. 
 
 Lord Bewleigh entered the house with his 
 faithful dog Yorick at his heels. Passing 
 through the hall into a long corridor with 
 painted windows, whereon were emblazoned 
 the arms of the Bewleigh family, he went 
 towards his mother's favourite sitting-room. 
 It was a small and low-roofed apartment in 
 one of the corners of the building. Lady 
 Bewleigh had selected it for her private 
 retiring-room, on account of the beautiful view 
 she could enjoy from the windows, and also 
 because its size admitted of its being made
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 73 
 
 more homely and, to use an expressive word, 
 more cozy than the larger reception-rooms. 
 She was sitting in a high-backed chair of 
 carved oak, by the side of the fire-place, when 
 her son entered; and at her feet lay a small 
 Italian greyhound, her favourite companion. 
 As she sat there in her black dress and 
 widow's cap, she looked the very impersonation 
 of a good old English lady, which indeed she 
 was, for never was woman so much esteemed, 
 so much beloved by all who knew her, especially 
 by her dependants, as Lady Bewleigh. Affec- 
 tionate in the ties of relationship ; affable to 
 her inferiors ; charitable to the poor ; warm- 
 hearted and generous to all, she was cited as 
 a pattern for the mistress of a large domain. 
 Her only fault — (and that was one that sprang 
 from over-affection) — was her too great in- 
 dulgence to her sons, of whom she had two : 
 Reginald, Lord Bewleigh, and Henry St. 
 Meurice, now at Cambridge. She loved both 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 equally — both too well — for her over-fondness 
 blinded her to their faults ; and she had not 
 taken, in their childhood, those judicious steps 
 which, with a little timely correction, might 
 have saved them much misery in after-life. 
 Never had brothers characters so opposite as 
 these two; Henry was mild, gentle, and 
 almostas single-hearted as a child, and with 
 this disposition he grew to manhood through 
 the phases of boyhood and adolescence un- 
 changed. He was a favourite at school ; 
 indeed, it was impossible to know him well 
 and not to love him; and boys have more 
 discrimination than they usually get credit for. 
 He never headed any scheme, never originated 
 any mischief; but was easily led into such plots 
 as were formed by the more daring and manly 
 of his companions; and, as is often the case 
 in such dispositions, would, when once excited, 
 carry out the scheme, with the courage of 
 shyness, through difficulties which daunted his
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 75 
 
 schoolfellows. The too great pliableness of his 
 character ; the want of firmness in adhering to 
 his own views of right and wrong ; the too 
 ready ear lent to the evil persuader ; these were 
 indeed his greatest defects; but his parents 
 called it obedience, and approved his submissive- 
 ness : his masters found it more easy to deal 
 with than the wilfulness of the stubborn and 
 headstrong ; and thus his mind was suffered to 
 acquire, unchecked, that reliance upon the 
 opinions of others; that indolence in forming 
 judgments in matters where self must be both 
 judge and jiu-y, which have proved the bane of 
 many a well-disposed man besides Henry St. 
 Meurice. 
 
 What a contrast was offered in the case of 
 his elder brother, Reginald ! From his earliest 
 years he had e^dnced a precocity of intellect, a 
 quick perception, and a power of imagination, 
 that made him outshine his equals in age. He 
 
 E 2
 
 76 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 had been the favourite of his father, to whom 
 his love for field-sports, and his lively con- 
 versation had especially endeared him, and who 
 saw in him the promise of a brilliant orator, 
 worthily filling, in the House of Commons, the 
 seat which he held at his disposal. At school 
 — for is it not there that the marCs character 
 often reveals itself? — at school he was decidedly 
 indolent, relying upon his powers to accomplish 
 the appointed task in half the time which his 
 companions devoted to it. Yet he was not a 
 favourite here ; his equals in the school declared 
 him to be conceited and proud — some said 
 ill-tempered ; while the lower boys whispered 
 among themselves that he was tyrannical, and 
 a bully. His career at Oxford proved him to 
 be what such a course had been calculated to 
 make him — a profligate, and above all, a 
 sensualist ; one before whose strong and 
 uncontrollable passions all must give way ;
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 77 
 
 whose slightest wish was a law to himself, 
 which — coute que coute — he felt self-compelled 
 to gratify. 
 
 Clever beyond a question, his talents were 
 nipped in the bud by the frost of indolence and 
 self-indulgence ; and as idle time has been truly 
 said to be the devil's working time, so did his 
 college career give life and vigour to the rank 
 weeds which parental indulgence and school 
 neglect had early sown in his heart. 
 
 He entered slowly the room where his 
 mother was sitting, foUowed by the large dog 
 which, loveable as he might be for his affection 
 to Reginald, was better adapted to the turnip- 
 field than to the lady's boudoir. Lady Bewleigh 
 was particularly neat, and it made her positively 
 miserable to see the great footmarks, like huge 
 shamrocks of dirt, which the retriever left on 
 the cai-pet. 
 
 " Pray, Reginald," she said very quietly, 
 "do not bring your dog here ; see how he
 
 78 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 spoils my furniture ; indeed, dear, he is out of 
 place in the house, though you know I like 
 the dear old fellow, because he loves you so 
 fondly." 
 
 " Pooh !" said Lord Bewleigh, with iU- 
 humour ; " what are the brooms for ? You are 
 absurdly particular, and I am quite afraid ever 
 to come in here ; perhaps you would like me 
 to stay away because / have dirty boots." 
 
 Had Lady Bewleigh spoken what she thought, 
 she would have suggested that the simple act of 
 wiping his feet might have spared her the 
 introduction of the clods of earth which he also 
 left on his track ; but her unceasing object was 
 to avoid the smallest cause that might excite 
 the irascible temper of her son. 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 Yorick stretched himself on the hearth-rug, 
 and prepared to go to sleep ; but the little grey- 
 hound, jealous of the presence of so huge an 
 intruder into his mistress's sanctum, got up and
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 79 
 
 walked round the usurper of his favourite place, 
 sniffing at his legs and feet, and at his nose. 
 He appeared appeased by this process, and 
 began to lick the retriever's face. Roused from 
 his slumbers by this cold application, Yorick 
 first opened his eyes to ascertain the cause, 
 then, perceiving the little creature, made an 
 effort to collect aU his straggling Hmbs under 
 him, for the purpose of rising to return the 
 compliment. Great lines of dirt appeared on 
 the white ground of the worked rug, yet Lady 
 Bewleigh remained silent. Having gained his 
 legs and his balance, Yorick went through the 
 routine of sniffing in due form, good-humour- 
 edly wagging his tail, and thereby sending a 
 shower of wet dirt all around him. The little 
 dog, pleased with his condescension, stood on his 
 hind-legs, and gracefully placed his forepaws 
 on Yorick's nose, which he could just reach. 
 The latter raised his head suddenly, thereby 
 throwing Httle Fido off his balance, and the
 
 80 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 poor animal fell backwards, his head striking 
 against the sharp edge of the cut-steel fender. 
 He lay there apparently stunned, for he hardly 
 uttered a moan. 
 
 This was more than poor Lady Bewleigh 
 could brook ; and jumping up to take Fido in 
 her arms, she said, rather angrily : 
 
 " Reginald, I must insist on your dog leaving 
 the room." 
 
 " He shall leave the room, and the house 
 too," replied Lord Bewleigh, walking towards 
 the door. " You need not expect me at dinner ; 
 and I suppose you have not forgotten that I go 
 at six to-morrow morning." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed his mother ; " leave 
 me this evening — the last evening of your 
 stay !" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, with a forced sneer, " I 
 shall go and dine with the Lockleys ; there I 
 am always welcome, whether my boots are clean 
 or dirty."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 81 
 
 And so saying, he called his dog, and left the 
 room. 
 
 He had no sooner shut the door, than con- 
 science, that inward monitor, which the head 
 cannot silence, told him that he was acting 
 heartlessly ; but his pride would not permit 
 him to return and humble himself. He had 
 not the moral courage to confess his error to 
 one who would have given him too ready an 
 absolution — and . . . 
 
 He dined with the Lockleys, 
 
 E 3
 
 82 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " .... Licuit, semperque licebit, 
 Parcere personis, dicere de vitiis." 
 
 " By education most men are misled. 
 So we believe, because we were so bred : 
 The priest continues what the nurse began ; 
 And thus the child imposes on the man." 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Poor Lady Bewleigh was left to sad 
 meditation. This return for a devotion of 
 twenty-two long years ; this requital of so 
 much love, so tender a care, so fond an indul- 
 gence, so constant an anxiety, was indeed 
 harrowing to the poor lady's feelings. She
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 83 
 
 foresaw in her waking dream the fearful array 
 of evils which this waywardness of spirit, these 
 fiery passions, would call down on the head of 
 her well-beloved son. But above all, that want 
 of heart, that cruel want of heart, that 
 bitterest of all convictions that a mother can 
 entertain of her son ! the want of that one 
 thing which saves a man from many a peril, 
 that appeal which is heard even after the voice 
 of conscience is stifled ! Oh ! this completed 
 her misery ! 
 
 " God forgive him !" was her inward prayer, 
 " for in truth he knoweth not what he doth !" 
 
 This trait may be considered insignificant, not 
 worthy of record ; but is it so ? Is it not in 
 the intimacy of the home circle alone that we 
 become acquainted with the man's true cha- 
 racter ? To acquii'e that knowledge in the case 
 of any person in whom we feel an interest, it 
 were better, were it possible, to borrow Fortu- 
 natus' invisible cap, and follow him through one
 
 84 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 day passed in the privacy of domestic life, than 
 to watch him for years as he appears to the 
 superficial eye of the public ; for here he must 
 involuntarily play a part, and is not more to be 
 believed than is the virtue of the actor who per- 
 forms Cato, and then goes home with Scipio 
 and Martia to drink and smoke, and pass the 
 night in riot and debauchery. 
 
 Greville, in his maxims wisely observes : " I 
 hardly know so melancholy a reflection, as that 
 parents are necessarily the sole directors of the 
 management of their children, whether they have, 
 or have not, judgment, penetration, or taste to 
 perform the task ;" — and it is a reflection which 
 applies quite as forcibly to the higher as to the 
 lower classes. 
 
 Every child, who has a mind at all, has an 
 individuality in that mind, an idiosyncracy which 
 requires a course of training as diff'erent from 
 that of any other child, as the treatment of one 
 plant difl*ers from that of another. And how,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 85 
 
 under the present system of education, are these 
 shades, (which, according to their management, 
 either heighten or destroy the effect of the 
 picture) — how are these observed ? My lord has 
 his club, his hunting, his racing, his county 
 meetings to attend ; and as these aU-important 
 matters of course take precedence of the manage- 
 ment of his children, he leaves them to my lady ; 
 who, occupied with the vanity of her all-engross- 
 ing occupations, consigns the tender infant to 
 the excellent care of hired menials. Spite of aU, 
 he grows, and is a fine boy of his age, and 
 " so forward !" and his father would like to teach 
 him a little Latin, but he has forgotten it long 
 ago, so he gives him a small gun, and teaches 
 him to shoot instead ! Then, when he is some- 
 what older, he becomes too noisy, and a hore ! 
 So he is sent to Eton ; thrown into the great 
 mill warranted to produce scholars, highly-edu- 
 cated, moral men, whatever may have been their 
 state before entering it, and all, — hke Morrison's
 
 86 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 pills — ^^by the simple application of Latin and 
 Greek ! ! Then, learned (or unlearned, just as 
 he has himself pleased to become one or to 
 remain the other) in these two great branches 
 of education, (which, of course, are warranted to 
 carry him unscathed through all the difficulties 
 and dangers of life), he enters the army at seven- 
 teen — at seventeen ! The age when we awaken 
 to a sense of our own ignorance ; when we first 
 discover that classics may be a good basis, but 
 that they do not alone form the structure of 
 education. Yes, at this critical period, masters, 
 advisers, all are discarded : and the youth is left 
 to the sage company of monitors that form his 
 society at the mess-table. 
 
 But the Universities ! 
 
 Oh, yes, the Universities ! those filters through 
 which churchmen must pass, and where they find 
 all the dregs which the previously filtered have 
 left behind them. Where the red-coat and top- 
 boots are concealed under the surplice, if.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 87 
 
 indeed, the worthy Nimrod has been unable to 
 " cut chapel" altogether: where the great panaceas 
 of Latin and Greek are again administered as an 
 effectual charm against the advice and example 
 of licentious companions, and the wiles of 
 unprincipled shop-keepers ! The Universities ! 
 which shut their massive gates, the brazen 
 gates of prejudice, against the march of im- 
 provement, which finds its way into every 
 other institution ! 
 
 It may be argued that our public schools and 
 universities have sent forth great men — Harrow 
 will show her Peel and Byron ; Eton will adduce 
 her Canning, her Macaulay, and others ; but these 
 pleas cannot be considered as proofs of their excel- 
 lence. The " nascitur nonfity" applies as truly to 
 the genius of the statesman, warrior, or musician, 
 as to that of the poet ; and the fact of these 
 men having past through this ordeal, is no more 
 an evidence of that ordeal being the cause of 
 their greatness, than it is an argument in favour
 
 88 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 of a ploughman's non-education, that Burns 
 followed the plough. 
 
 They passed through those schools, because 
 almost every young gentleman of birth is made 
 to do so ; and it is rather an additional proof of 
 the greatness of their mind, that they were 
 enabled to outstep the narrow bounds prescribed 
 there, and to soar forth on their own wings, to 
 the pinnacle of greatness they attained. 
 
 The excuse, (if one be requisite), for thus 
 openly speaking of these " time-honoured" insti- 
 tutions, is to be found in the heading of this 
 chapter, which may be here repeated : 
 
 "Licuit, semperque licebit 
 Parcere personis, dicere de vitiis."* 
 
 There is, however, in this case no need of the 
 injunction, ^'parcere personis.'' The English 
 gentleman requires no sparing, superior as he 
 
 * ** It was of old, and shall be still the plan, 
 To lash his vices — but to spare the man."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 89 
 
 must ever justly feel to the gentlemen of any 
 other nation ; but his superiority is rather de- 
 rived from an innate distinction, an hereditary 
 nobility, and a national greatness, than from 
 individual superiority of intellect or education. 
 His motives are noble, his impulses generous, 
 his conduct ever guided by the dictates of 
 honour ; — but these excellencies are such as his 
 father had before him, and were transmitted to 
 him, as he will transmit them to his children, 
 and are in no degree to be ascribed to the system 
 of education to which he has been subjected. 
 There is no question that the young men of 
 other nations are better educated, more generally 
 well-informed, than the young generation in 
 this country — and why is this ? Because in our 
 schools all branches of education are despised, 
 save two — the dead languages and mathematics. 
 WeU then may the English gentleman after he 
 has left those schools some two or three years, 
 say with Prince Talleyrand :
 
 90 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " What I learnt, I have forgotten — what I 
 know, I have guessed !" 
 
 The still greater disadvantages of a home- 
 education, the danger of over-indulgence, the 
 want of emulation, the neglect of parents ; — these 
 have been shown. 
 
 What then is to be done ? 
 
 The proverb says : — " of the evils choose 
 the lesser." 
 
 Query — ^Which of the two evils, home-educa- 
 tion, or public-school education — is the lesser ?
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 91 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "They order," said I, "this matter better in France." 
 STERNE. Sentimental Journey. 
 
 Another fortnight saw Lord Bewleigh in 
 Paris. He had intended to make this city the 
 first stage of his journey ; but such was the fas- 
 cination of the gay capital, that his pristine 
 ardour for travelling had cooled gradually into 
 an unwillingness to leave his present abode ; and 
 day succeeded day, and resolution after resolution 
 was formed and broken, and still he continued 
 an inmate of the Hotel de B — 
 
 And who, that knows Paris well, and appre- 
 ciates its charms, can wonder at this ? Who,
 
 92 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 that is able to form a judgment in the matter, 
 likes not the sejour of Paris ? where the very air 
 you breathe seems composed of particles of 
 hilarity ; where every face you meet seems intent 
 on amusement. In the days of Lord Bewleigh's 
 visit, a " milord Anglais,'^ was made far more 
 of than he would be in these times, when 
 railroads have imported into France too many 
 unfavourable specimens of the tribe. The Anglo- 
 mania w^as then at its height, and a live specimen 
 to copy from was therefore at a premium. Lord 
 Bewleigh had every requisite for charming the 
 Parisians, his handsome equipages, and smart 
 groom, his beautiful hack, and elegant carriage 
 on horseback, delighted the crowds in the 
 Champs Elysees ; while his good looks, great 
 talents, and affable manners, made him a wel- 
 come guest in the exclusive circles of the " Cha- 
 teau;" for he had tact enough to play his 
 part well before the world, and confided his HI- 
 humours principally to his servants and in-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 93 
 
 feriors. The world was all new to him ; and 
 catching his first glimpse of it in this favourable 
 point of vieWj is it a matter of astonishment 
 that he should be dazzled by its brilliant, but 
 will-o'-the-wispish light, which too often tempts 
 the traveller to follow it to the verge of the 
 abyss ! 
 
 He had seen a little of the fashionable world 
 in London, but the amusements of the French 
 upper class appeared to him far more real and 
 sensible. And what can be more charming than 
 those delightful coteries, for which we have not 
 even a word in English? Those evenings of 
 sociable enjoyment which are so well understood 
 in the French capital; where, without the 
 annoyance of an overrought toilet, a few persons 
 meet who like each other's society, and pass the 
 time in the charms of general and lively conver- 
 sation, a talent with which the Parisians are 
 undoubtedly gifted beyond any other people in 
 the world. Then the affable and empresse,
 
 94 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 (again no English term !) manner of the French 
 hostess — the apt inquiries which she addresses 
 so well and so easily to each of her guests, the 
 amiable reproof for not having come sooner and 
 oftener, the smiHng threats in case the fault be 
 repeated — is not all this pleasing to every one ? 
 True, it may often be hollow and insincere, and 
 the same lady will very likely address the same 
 speeches to the next comer ; but yet they are 
 grateful to the ear ; and such a reception places 
 you at ease, and inspires an inclination to be 
 amused, and exert your means of pleasing in 
 return. 
 
 Again, one of the greatest, if not the greatest 
 charm of Parisian society, is the absence of gossip 
 and scandal-mongers : those pests of society, 
 against whom every door should be closed as 
 against the plague. Heavy will be the record 
 against them at the great tribunal, when the 
 destruction of domestic happiness, the broken 
 confidence of man and wife, the discord sown
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 95 
 
 by venomous words are laid to their account, 
 and their victims rise up in fearful array against 
 them ! But above all a man-gossip ! Despicable 
 being, unworthy the sex which he disgraces ! 
 Oh ! for some new St. Patrick to drive these 
 poisonous serpents from their hiding-places into 
 the sea ; there to perish with their spawn for 
 ever ! 
 
 There exist various causes which may perhaps 
 account for the rarity of scandal in Paris. The 
 construction of the houses does not afford the 
 busy neighbour opposite the same facility for 
 observing how often Lord A. calls on Lady B., 
 nor of retaihng the valuable information, (duly 
 multiplying the number of visits by two), to a 
 fellow-gossip, who repeats it, (applying the same 
 process of miiltiplication) at a select tea-party, 
 whence it is carried to the clubs — " sempre cres- 
 cendo r Another cause for the silence of the 
 Parisians on these subjects is, — alas for morality ! 
 that those who live in glass-houses there, have
 
 96 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 the good sense to abstain from throwing stones, 
 and that even were it discovered that — " Mon- 
 sieur un ter was " Vamant de Madame =^ * * " 
 the case is so common and so frequent, that the 
 charm of novelty is lost, and the information 
 met, not with the eager — " You don't say so !" 
 — but with a cold " C'est possible^' or the more 
 silencing, " Eh bien ?" 
 
 These charming coteries, which all the 
 English visitors who have the privilege of 
 admission, admire and appreciate, are, with a 
 few exceptions unknown in London, where 
 society can never enjoy itself, unless the 
 thermometer be at blood-heat, and no party 
 is considered good unless the stairs are full of 
 people, who cannot enter the drawing-rooms. 
 Yet every one who has been abroad — and 
 who has not been abroad in these days ? — 
 laments the heat of the London rooms, the 
 lateness of London hours, and the complete 
 absence of anything approaching to sociality
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 97 
 
 in the London society. Why do not these 
 lamenters endeavour to reform the evil ? 
 
 But in truth there are difficulties. 
 
 Firstly, " Paris c'est la France" — the 
 same cannot be said of London in relation to 
 England. The aristocratic quarters of the 
 west-end are deserted for eight months in 
 the year, and their occupants retire to those 
 pleasant country houses which the French 
 neither possess nor understand. Society can- 
 not therefore become a routine here as it does 
 among our Gallic neighbours; and were it 
 even possible to form such knots of sociality, 
 they must be broken at the expiration of three 
 or four months. 
 
 Again, in Paris, society is not, as here, 
 converted into a mere market, open alter- 
 nately at the houses of its different members, 
 to which the match-making mother must 
 nightly drag her pale daughter, lest a rival 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 should secure some great parti in her absence. 
 In London, the chaperon does not go out to 
 seek sociahty or amusement. She follows the 
 dreary course of nightly dissipation, merely to 
 snap up rich partners for her daughter, who is 
 made, (O Terpsichore !) to dance herself into 
 the good graces of the young Marquis of 
 Ganderton, who is as stupid as an owl, and 
 waltzes like a teetotum, and forbidden to accept 
 as partner the handsome younger son, who has 
 been attache at Vienna, and dances like a 
 Viennese. Is she amused? Let the answer 
 be read in the grim visages of these poor, 
 danced-out girls, when, after the wear and 
 tear of three or four seasons, they begin to 
 despair of hooking the peer, and have been 
 made to refuse the hand of one they have 
 loved — the poor — detrimental ! The liberty of 
 the English girl is much extolled in contrast 
 with the cold marriages de convenance usual
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 99 
 
 in France. But has the English girl her 
 liberty, and does she choose for herself? How 
 many can conscientiously say " Yes ?" 
 
 There was a great ball at the English 
 Ambassador's, which had long been talked of 
 and impatiently expected by the helles of Paris. 
 Nor were their expectations deceived, for it was 
 a brilliant scene. Of course Lord Bewleigh 
 was present ; and many were the tender glances 
 aimed at him as he passed through the splendid 
 salons. He was reputed to be the favoured 
 one in the heart of many a helle : these reports 
 were probably, for the most part, unfounded ; 
 for whatever might be the effect produced by 
 him in their over-tender hearts, he was not so 
 easily moved into the exertion of falling in 
 love; and in such hearts as his, ephemeral 
 affections do not often find place. He rather 
 affected to despise beauty in women, and 
 always protested that he preferred the plain 
 
 F 2
 
 100 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 ones of the sex, because they were not so 
 vain, and could talk on more agreeable subjects 
 than those that concerned the mantua-maker 
 and the hair-dresser. 
 
 He walked listlessly along, passing in review 
 all the beauties whom he was accustomed to 
 meet nightly in society, and joined a group of 
 young Frenchmen, who were discussing the 
 topics of the day with the attaches of the 
 Embassy. They ail received him. warmly, and 
 loaded him with compliments upon the success 
 of a race which had been won that morning by 
 one of his horses. 
 
 " Ah, Milord, what a magnificent creature 
 that mare is ! — such action ! such shape ! And 
 with what ease she distanced the others !" 
 
 *' As to me," said another, " what I most 
 covet is that curricle and those bay horses that 
 Lord Bewleigh drives," &c. 
 
 But he heard not their flatteries. His eyes
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 101 
 
 were rivetted on the figure of a lady whom he 
 had not seen in any of the salons which he 
 had hitherto frequented. She sat apart from 
 the crowd, which now thronged all the suite 
 of rooms, and appeared anxious to avoid the 
 contact of the gay multitude. She had placed 
 herself under a lamp that hranched out from 
 the wall, and threw down showers of light upon 
 the most classically-formed head that was ever 
 conceived by Titian, Raffaelle, or Michael 
 iVngelo. Her hair was of . that bright auburn 
 which verges nearest on the much-abused red : 
 the true jlavi capilli of the ancients. She had 
 di'awn a heavy tress of it round her head, in 
 which were placed at equal distances small 
 broaches of diamonds in the shape of stars, 
 forming a sort of glory on a brow of that pure 
 whiteness which is only found in those whose 
 hair is of this colour. Her features were of 
 marvellous regularity; her lips opened to dis- 
 close a set of pearly teeth: on her neck the
 
 102 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 rows of magnificent pearls could scarcely be 
 discerned. Her dress, too, unlike the distorted 
 fashion of that day, savoured of the classic 
 drapery that should veil such a form: it was 
 of loose white muslin, bound at the waist with 
 a girdle of cameos ; her arm unencumbered by 
 a sleeve, but above the elbow she wore a 
 thrice-circling armlet, which terminated in the 
 head of a serpent. A cross of diamonds 
 fastened at the neck her loose robe of gauzy 
 texture. 
 
 *' Who is that lovely woman, sitting alone 
 under that lamp ?" asked Lord Bewleigh, with 
 his eyes fixed on this fair apparition. 
 
 " That is the Comtesse de Merly," replied 
 his informant, " whose husband made such a 
 brilliant speech in the Chamhre yesterday." 
 
 " How does it happen that I meet her now 
 for the first time, after having been four months 
 here?" 
 
 " She seldom goes out ; moreover, they have
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 103 
 
 been travelling in Italy, and have but lately 
 returned to Paris. Ce pauvre Merly /" added 
 he, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " Why should he be pitied ?" replied Bew- 
 leigh. " With such eloquence, and such a 
 wife, he appears to me more worthy of envy 
 than of compassion." 
 
 " How deceitful are appearances !" was the 
 reply : "I really know no one whom I more 
 sincerely compassionate than that very man. 
 Yonder exquisite creature, whom he worships, 
 cares no more for him, than the statue, had 
 not life been given to it, would have cared for 
 Pygmalion. She is cold, insensible, passionless 
 as marble ; and ' ce pauvre Merly' can at least 
 console himself with one reflection, that her 
 indifference extends to all alike, and that, if 
 she does not love him, at least she loves no 
 other." 
 
 "Away then with the theories of Lavater,"
 
 104 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 said Lord Bewleigh. " Yet were that philo- 
 sopher here, it were hard to persuade him that 
 that full upper lip, and that arched nostril, 
 are not unmistakeable marks of passions which, 
 once roused, would sweep down all as a torrent 
 before them." 
 
 " Eh ! qui salt ; chacun trouve sa chacune, 
 elle aussi peut-etre ; but the * chacun' has not 
 yet made his appearance, for assuredly she has 
 not found him in poor de Merly ! Will you 
 try your chance ? My mother will introduce 
 you to her with pleasure ; she is a great friend 
 of hers, so far as any one can be the friend of 
 so unapproachable a being." 
 
 The lady in question, one of the leading 
 fashionables of the faubourg, led Lord Bew- 
 leigh to the place where the Comtesse de 
 Merly was seated, and the presentation took 
 place in due form. 
 
 " Dear Valerie, let me introduce to you Lord
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 105 
 
 Bewleigh, who has quitted that most lovely of 
 cities, London, to pass a few months with us 
 here: he talks every day of going to Italy, 
 but we cannot spare him, and to you I leave 
 the task of detaining him amongst us." 
 
 Valerie raised her eyes to acknowledge Lord 
 Bewleigh's bow ; and what eyes they were ! 
 Clear, bright blue, with fine distended pupils, 
 always moist as with a tear; long eyelashes 
 and eyebrows, pencilled as with the narrowest 
 ray of black, for by a strange freak of nature, 
 she united the complexion of a rousse to the 
 exquisite outhnes of a hrune. 
 
 "The task assigned me is difficult — one 
 which I am least fitted to perform," said she 
 smilingly, " that of keeping any one from 
 visiting Italy, that paradise on earth. I 
 appreciate its charms far too well selfishly to 
 deter even those who are dearest to me from 
 the enjoyment of the most intellectual of 
 
 F 3
 
 106 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 human pleasures — that of becoming intimately 
 acquainted with the fine arts, which cannot 
 be done out of Italy. Is it your first visit 
 there, Milord ?" 
 
 " I have never, until within four months, 
 quitted England." 
 
 " O ! then you have indeed before you a 
 pleasure which I envy you. My first impres- 
 sions of Italy are the only sweet reminiscences 
 which I love to cherish in my memory. All 
 others," added she musingly and with a sigh, 
 " I should wish to bury in eternal oblivion." 
 
 " Is it possible," replied Lord Bewleigh, " that 
 one so young — may I add, so fair as yourself — 
 can already have acquired such bitter experience 
 of the world?" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Valerie, " some live through 
 a long Hfe, and never know the world. Happy 
 people ! Others have all their illusions destroyed 
 almost before they enter it ! Unhappy, in truth
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 107 
 
 are those who, beginning their career with 
 blighted hopes, have more experience at eighteen 
 than others have at eighty ! To such. Art is the 
 only source of genuine pleasure, of real enjoy- 
 ment: having seen the dark side of nature, 
 they turn to art, as to a friend who will not 
 deceive; and who, in palpable and beauteous 
 forms, will repay them for the emptiness and 
 vanity of illusions destroyed, and spells long 
 broken." 
 
 " From your enthusiasm on these subjects, I 
 need scarcely inquire whether you are yourself 
 an artist ?" 
 
 " I could not see so many master-pieces, 
 without desiring to bring back something which 
 should serve to recal them to my mind in after- 
 days ; though, indeed, that was scarcely neces- 
 sary, for they are all indelibly engraven here," 
 and she raised her hand to her forehead. 
 
 " But do there not exist copies of all these
 
 108 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 works, and so well executed, that it is almost 
 impossible to distinguish them from the 
 originals ?" 
 
 " I never found a copy that pleased me ; they 
 convey to me no other idea than that of a work 
 executed as a trade, and the copy of a picture 
 seems ever deficient in what forms the chief 
 beauty of the ancient masters — that spirit of 
 pure religion which guided their pencil: that 
 devout adoration in which Guido, Correggio, 
 and above aU Rafaelle, held these beings whom 
 they painted, and which inspired the sublime 
 conceptions they have handed down to us, and 
 which modern art can never equal. You will 
 think me presumptuous," she added smiling, 
 " in saying that I have myself copied my fa- 
 vourite pictures, because I could find no copies 
 I considered good enough ; but, inferior as they 
 must be to many, they please me better, as 
 conveying to my mind the conception of the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 109 
 
 master more clearly than the work of any other 
 hand.'' 
 
 " I envy you this talent more than any I 
 could possess ; it increases the charm of art ten- 
 fold, and looking often as you do upon these 
 tangible mementos of past delight, you can 
 enjoy daily the pleasures of memory, which you 
 value so highly." 
 
 "Nay, there is one thing still worthier of 
 envy, the creative power which enabled these 
 men to form these divine conceptions. The 
 power of creation in man is the attribute that 
 places him nearest to God, whose greatest glory 
 it is, that He created aU things in heaven and 
 earth.'* 
 
 Bewleigh would willingly have listened longer, 
 only throwing in sentences calculated to induce 
 her to continue a conversation so charming, 
 for her voice was as sweet as a bell, and 
 her countenance became animated as she en-
 
 110 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 larged on her favourite topic. But now she 
 was silent, and seemed to have relapsed into 
 her meditative mood, so he rose to take his 
 leave, adding: 
 
 " I am not myself an artist ; but I may sa 
 that I am a worthy appreciator of art ; may I 
 presume so far as to crave permission to see 
 some of the works of that fair hand ?" 
 
 " Your request is granted, Milord : we artists 
 want true appreciators, and they are scarce ; 
 but I challenge your criticism : if it is not im- 
 partial, and just, if I detect you praising indis- 
 criminately all my productions, merely because 
 they are mine, and that you feel bound to 
 admire them 'par galanterie,' you will find the 
 door of my atelier shut on the occasion of your 
 second visit " 
 
 At this moment the Comte de Merly 
 came up to inform Valerie that the carriage 
 was ready ; she rose, and having briefly intro-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. HI 
 
 duced her husband to Lord Bewleigh, she 
 inclined her head gracefully to the latter, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 Bewleigh cast a look of envy on the retiring 
 form of the Count ; it angered him to think 
 that another was the possessor of so divine a 
 being. He stood, with his eyes fixed on the 
 door through which she had disappeared ; and 
 was roused from his reverie by a familiar tap 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 " Well, what think you of her ?" 
 
 " She is an angel !" murmured Bewleigh. 
 " How could you say she was passionless ? She 
 is full of fire, and enthusiasm." 
 
 " Pour les arts — oui ; pour la nature — 
 non" 
 
 The ball was over for Bewleigh, so he 
 left the embassy, and walked slowly to his 
 hotel.
 
 112 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " S' Amor non e, ch' e dunque quel ch' io sento ? 
 Ma s' egli e amor, per Dio che cosa e quale ? 
 Se buona, ond' e I'effetto aspro mortale ? 
 Se ria, ond' e dolce ogni tormento ?" 
 
 PETRARCA. 
 
 Lord Bewleigh lost no time in taking 
 advantage of the permission he had obtained, 
 and called next day on the Countess de 
 Merly. 
 
 He was admitted to her studio. She stood 
 before a large easel, on which was placed a 
 picture she was copying. She wore a loose 
 dress of light blue cashmere, bound at the waist
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 113 
 
 with a silken girdle, and on her head a small 
 Greek cap of the same colour, with a long 
 tassel of glossy silk that hung carelessly on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 She greeted her visitor coldly ; the chilling 
 manner had returned ; she seemed to have for- 
 gotten their conversation of the previous night, 
 and adopted a formal tone while the conver- 
 sation upon the topics of the day lasted. After 
 a short time. Lord Bewleigh rose, and approached 
 the painting on the easel. It was a Guido of 
 great value ; the subject, that of our Saviour in 
 Lazarus' house, and Mary sitting at his feet. 
 Nothing could exceed the sublime beauty of the 
 painting. The impressive air of Jesus as he 
 taught his companion the great truths of Chris- 
 tianity; the expression of devout admiration 
 and happiness in the countenance of Mary: 
 these were depicted with a religious intensity of 
 feeling that baffles description. The eyes of 
 the Saviour were not seen ; he looked down on
 
 114 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 his disciple, but her upturned glance of love, 
 the tear of holy joy that sparkled in her eye, 
 showed that his glance met hers, and shot into 
 her inmost soul a ray of hope, of heavenly 
 consolation. 
 
 " What an exquisite painting !" exclaimed 
 Bewleigh in heartfelt admiration. 
 
 " Beautiful, is it not ?" said the Countess ; 
 " it is my favourite among all the paintings we 
 brought from Italy. I have never until now 
 ventured to make the attempt of copying it ; 
 but I have summoned up all my courage, and 
 am determined to try how far I can succeed ; 
 but my labour progresses slowly," added she 
 smiling, " for looking on its beauties, I some- 
 times forget that I ought to be painting, and find 
 myself lost in admiration before my original." 
 
 " Pray let me see your copy." 
 
 " It is not yet sufficiently advanced for you 
 to judge. I will show you another." 
 
 " No," said Bewleigh, " I could judge better
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 115 
 
 of your proficiency from this than from any that 
 you could show me." 
 
 " Well, then, you shall see it ;" and she 
 turned the canvass which she had reversed on 
 his entrance. 
 
 " Oh ! that is perfect !" w^as Bewleigh's in- 
 voluntary exclamation. 
 
 It was in truth, so far as it had proceeded, an 
 excellent copy. The two heads only were 
 finished, the rest being in rough outline ; but 
 that outline showed the master's hand ; and the 
 delicate finish of the heads, the truthfulness of 
 the rest, not only as to its correctness, but the 
 spirit which she had so well seized, was indeed 
 worthy of the highest admiration. 
 
 She stood by him, and watched his coun- 
 tenance. By the rising colour in the cheek, 
 by the sparkle of the eye, she felt that his ex- 
 clamation sprang fi'om the heart; in a word, 
 that she was understood — appreciated.
 
 116 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 His visit was a long one ; she displayed to 
 him all the treasures of her collection : original 
 sketches by great masters, and drawings of her 
 own, recalling some sublime work. She visited 
 with him the pictures which she had brought 
 from Italy, and which, though few, were among 
 the finest specimens of the several masters. 
 She found the greatest pleasure in his remarks 
 on all these objects ; she found in him what 
 most charms an artist — the virginity of taste, 
 unsullied by the affectation of connoisseurs, and 
 free from those set phrases, those conventional 
 expressions, which the would-be amateur ac- 
 quires, and which are far more displeasing to 
 the artist's ear than silence, or even severe 
 criticism. 
 
 They tarried long in the gaUery, she ex- 
 plaining to him the technical beauties of the 
 paintings, he pouring forth the instinctive ideas 
 with which the sight of these inspired him.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 117 
 
 Both found real pleasure in this conversation, 
 and both forgot the course of time, of which 
 they were presently reminded by the darkness 
 that invaded the gallery, and hid these gems 
 from theii' view. 
 
 He prepared to take leave, but she detained 
 him, saying : " Nay, nay, it is now my turn to 
 ask a favour of you, I have given you all my 
 knowledge on painting, but I know how to 
 appreciate the sister arts ; so follow me. Milord." 
 
 She led him to the drawing-room, where 
 stood a magnificent piano. Above it was 
 placed a library of music, extending aU along 
 the further wall — where might be read the 
 immortal names of Handel, Beethoven, Mozart, 
 Corelli, Bach, &c. 
 
 " This room," she said, " is devoted to 
 music. Nature has denied me that most 
 divine of all gifts — a voice — but that is not 
 your case, I am told, and I think I have a right
 
 118 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 to demand of you some return for all my 
 dissertations on painting : Allons, Monsieur le 
 Comtey pas d^ excuses. 
 
 Bewleigh complied with a good grace ; he 
 had a rich tenor voice, and more taste than 
 voice. He sang, with great expression, the 
 beautiful prayer of Stradella, which is said to 
 have saved the life of its composer. He poured 
 forth its plaintive and devotional strain, with a 
 tone of fervour that seemed to spring from the 
 soul ; and, indeed, he felt it at that moment, 
 though the ardent prayer was not addressed to 
 the " Signer" of whom Stradella so eloquently 
 asks " pieta" — it was uttered with no other 
 image in his mind than that of the lovely 
 woman who stood before him : the cry " pieta ! 
 pieta !" was one of passion, not of religion ; his 
 idol stood on earth — not in heaven. 
 
 Valerie was much pleased with Bewleigh's 
 performance. She expressed her admiration in 
 terms which she had never used before : her
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 119 
 
 coldness had disappeared, and she stood hy the 
 singer, as he continued to pour forth strains of 
 melancholy and passion which thrilled her to 
 the heart. 
 
 Suddenly, the Comte de Merly entered the 
 room, threw down his hat, and an immense 
 bundle of papers which he carried under his 
 arm; his face wore a look of triumph as he 
 rushed up to Valerie, and, as if unconscious of 
 the presence of a third person, exclaimed : " We 
 have carried it, and by a large majority 1" 
 
 " Carried — what ?" replied Valerie, quite 
 taken by surprise. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, chere amie ? 
 What ? — why the great corn question — the 
 liberty of the people, the glory of France !" 
 
 The spell was broken ; Valerie's icy manner 
 was resumed, and she did not even invite 
 Bewleigh to return.
 
 120 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 He did return though — and that often. He 
 felt something in his breast, a perpetual anxiety, 
 which he now experienced for the first time. 
 Was it love ? No, it was Love's fallen brother — 
 Lust. With him, to see was to desire — to desire 
 was to possess, in spite of obstacles, which only 
 served to raise the value of the object. He 
 determined not to desist from his work until he 
 had instilled into her heart, that which all feel 
 once, and which she had not yet experienced — 
 the vertige of passion, the giddiness and weak- 
 ness of love. 
 
 And what did she feel ? She felt that the 
 arrival of this stranger had formed an epoch in 
 her existence. Thrown by a " mariage de 
 convenance," into the arms of a husband who 
 was considerably her senior, she had never felt 
 for him aught but that sentiment of cold 
 esteem which she could not withhold from his 
 excellence and surpassing talents. The atten-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 121 
 
 tions with which he loaded her, the very love 
 which he entertained for her, and of which he 
 lost no opportunity of giving her proofs, the 
 indulgence of all her fancies and tastes, the 
 prevenance and gratification of her wishes 
 almost before they could be formed, aU this 
 produced in her no feeling but one of dislike, 
 and daily-increasing aversion ; for she was 
 bound to be at least grateful, and the very 
 sense of this obligation weighed on her, and 
 distressed her. She would have preferred to 
 find him tyrannical, overbearing, cruel — any- 
 thing rather than what he was — that she might 
 have the comfort of hating him outright, and 
 showing her hatred. In the flatteries with 
 which the young men of the day loaded her, 
 she found nothing but fulsomeness and imperti- 
 nence, and because she would not be won by 
 the mere compliments of " vous etes belle," 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 "vous ^tes charmante," and the like, she was 
 called passionless, cold and insensible. 
 
 But it was not with such phrases that her 
 heart was to be won. How witty is the reply 
 of the Marquise, in A. de Musset's charming 
 proverbe,^ to the Count's protestations of ad- 
 miration. " Vous ^tes jolie," says he. 
 
 " Jolie, jolie, toujours jolie, eh ! on le 
 sait bien !" replies the coquette ; " mais 
 si je suis jolie^ ce n'est pas une raison 
 pourquoir je vous aime, je suppose !" None 
 had as yet found the road to Valerie's really 
 impressible heart. Flattery, praise, protesta- 
 tions, all had failed to effect a conquest, and 
 she had never found pleasure in the society of 
 any one, with the exception of that of the 
 artists in Italy, whom she had looked on 
 merely as the interpreters of her favourite art. 
 
 * " II faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou fermee."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 1 23 
 
 When Bewleigh therefore came, fresh with 
 unperverted taste, sympathizing, as she fully 
 believed him to do, in all her pursuits, finding 
 pleasure in her pleasures ; in a word, compre- 
 hending and appreciating her, she first ex- 
 perienced a new sensation in his presence — 
 then an anxiety for the hour of his usual 
 visit — then an agitation when he was near, and 
 a restlessness when he was away — a series of 
 new emotions which proved that some revolu- 
 tion had taken place within her, that some 
 stirring spirit had gained possession of her 
 senses, which she could no longer command or 
 restrain. 
 
 But why dwell upon the oft-told tale of illicit 
 love ? Why paint the headlong course of guilty 
 passion ; the broken marriage vow ; the alternate ^ / 
 bursts of transport and remorse ; the loss of 
 
 G 2
 
 124 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 rest ; the peace of mind destroyed ; the harrowing 
 fear lest any should detect, which makes the 
 wretched victim a coward before her menials — 
 a coward before herself ! 
 
 No, rather veil these painful scenes, and 
 show to those who yet halt on the verge of that 
 precipice, the plunge from which is never broken 
 or intercepted in its downward course, show to 
 those who yet hesitate, doubting whether in the 
 transports of forbidden joys, they will find that 
 happiness which marriage has not given — show 
 there, I say, the retribution that awaits them ! 
 
 Ill-fated Valerie ! Remorseless Bewleigh ! 
 
 He lusted and besought ! 
 
 She loved — and fell !
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 125 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 " Pour la premiere fois de mes jours j'ai menti. 
 
 *i* *P *l* n* 
 
 A mon mari demain il faudra que je mente, 
 Et, s'il n'e'clate pas, notre amour criminel 
 Condamnera ma vie au meiisonge eternel. 
 Mais ma fierte ne peut s' arranger d'un tel hote, 
 Et je ne joindrai pas la bassesse a la faute. 
 Aussi bien je vous dois, et dois a mon epoux 
 
 De n'etre plus a lui lorsque je suis a vous. 
 * * * * 
 
 Nous fuirons, n'est-ce-pas ?" 
 
 "Oui. Quand?" 
 
 " Cette nuit meme. 
 On ne dijBPere pas une mesure extreme." 
 
 AUGiER. Gahrielle. 
 
 The carnival is at its height. Paris sends 
 forth its last wild yell of savage joy before the
 
 126 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 morrow, when these gay masqueraders must 
 perforce put aside their hideous costumes, and 
 adopt the grave, lenten face they affect on the 
 Ash- Wednesday. Torrents of beings of doubt- 
 ful sex stream down the Boulevards in uncouth 
 costumes. The warrior's helmet, the courtier's 
 paper ruff, the parti- coloured stockings, the 
 classic sandals, all are worn in hideous medley : 
 women, scarcely clothed, brave the piercing cold 
 of the February night, with no protection but 
 the " debardeur's" shirt and wafer shoes, all 
 are rushing to the Masked Ball, which is to 
 close their tumultuous pleasures for the year ; 
 crowds cease not to pour into the Odeon, and 
 enter the arena w^ith cries of overflowing mirth 
 and boisterous spirits. 
 
 The crash of the orchestra rises loud above 
 the Babel ; the wild uproarious dance com- 
 mences, and from the boxes above nothing can 
 be distinguished but a whirlpool of heads moving
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 12? 
 
 to and fro to the rythm of the music, from 
 which arises now and then a howl of fiendish 
 madness, as though these had really adopted 
 the spirit of the dress they wore, and Pande- 
 monium had suddenly opened to our view. 
 
 A tall figure, dressed in a domino, whose 
 hood conceals all his head, and wearing a 
 mask with a long beard that reaches his 
 waist, has just entered the theatre, and walks 
 slowly up the staircase. It is unusual for men 
 to appear masked in this manner, and many 
 were the ribald jests launched at him as he 
 ascended the stairs. 
 
 " Dis done toi, tu dois etre diablement laid 
 pour te cacher comme ca ; quand on est beau 
 de physique, on n'a pas peur de se faire 
 voir." 
 
 " A has la tete de mort !" &c. 
 
 But he heeded them not, and continued his 
 progress until he reached the third tier of
 
 128 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 boxes. He shewed his ticket silently to the 
 ouvreuse, who opened the door of a box for 
 him. He entered it, and closed the door 
 with violence. In the back of this dark 
 place, which was completely grillee, sait a 
 figure entirely concealed in a grey domino. 
 On the entrance of the other, she threw off 
 her hood and mask, and rushed towards 
 him. 
 
 *' Reginald," she said, in a tone of tender 
 reproach, " I have waited long — O ! so long 
 for you ! why did you not come sooner ? 
 every minute has appeared an age ; and so 
 great were my fears — " she shuddered at the 
 thought — " as 1 passed through the hideous 
 crowd, that I thought I never should reach this 
 place of concealment. But I must lose no 
 time in reproaches. Reginald, my husband's 
 suspicions are aroused ; he questioned me this 
 day in a manner which proved to me that he
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 129 
 
 doubted me. Reginald, O God ! — perhaps 
 he knows all ! and I stood before him, 
 trembling — a culprit ! Reginald, for the first 
 time in my life, I told ... a lie ! — a lie which 
 drove all the blood in my body to my face . . . 
 I blushed, and on my brow I felt, in burning 
 letters, the brand of the liar ... O, Reginald ! 
 this is more than I can bear. I conjure you, 
 by all that you hold sacred in this world, by 
 your compassion — by your love for me — doom 
 me not to a life of perpetual — of daily false- 
 hood ; and since I am yours — yours, Bewleigh, 
 in soul and body — ever yours ! . . O, to the 
 end of time — save me — O, save me !" 
 
 " Valerie ! Valerie ! be calm ; for Heaven's 
 sake, be calm ! Let us devise some means.". . , 
 
 " Devise some means !" she cried, with an 
 accent of terror ; " some means ! — there is 
 but one . . . Reginald, I love you passionately !" 
 sobbed the wretched woman. " To that love 
 
 G 3
 
 130 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 which devours me day and night, I have 
 sacrificed all — my reputation — my home — my 
 prospects !" . . . 
 
 " Nay !" he exclaimed, " you have not yet 
 done so, Valerie ?" 
 
 " I have left my husband's home, and never 
 again can I return to it. Alone 1 glided out in 
 this cold night, leaving for him a letter, which 
 he will find on his return from the Chamber. 
 I have now no protector, no friend on earth 
 but you ! O, Reginald ! you cannot — you will 
 not desert me — me .'" she repeated, falling at 
 his feet, " who have left all for you — for you, 
 Bewleigh — do you hear me ? Speak — speak ! 
 say you wiU not ! — answer me, answer me 1 O, 
 Reginald ! Reginald ! — " 
 
 Her utterance was stopped by a burst of 
 passionate weeping. Bewleigh feared the sound 
 of her voice would be heard in the corridors ; 
 but the orchestra commenced with a loud crash,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 131 
 
 to play a lively tune, which drowned her 
 sobs. 
 
 Bewleigh was in an unforeseen dUemma. 
 He had received a hurried note from Valerie 
 in the morning, bidding him not call as usual, 
 but appointing to meet him at the ball. He 
 had guessed, from its tenor, that something 
 had occurred; but he was quite unprepared 
 for what he now heard. He could not abandon 
 her thus ; he loved her still, or rather he stiQ 
 gloried in the possession of so exquisite a 
 mistress ; she looked lovelier than ever in 
 her sorrow ; her hair had fallen ; her eyes 
 were dimmed with anguish, but more eloquent 
 than ever ; her cheek was bathed in tears ; 
 she looked like the penitent Magdalene of her 
 own prized picture; — and he resolved. Did 
 honour and chivalry prompt him? was not 
 his impulse rather one of selfishness and 
 passion ?
 
 132 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 He raised her, with a base feeling of 
 triumph at the thought that he had brought 
 this proud, unimpassioned woman to his feet ; 
 that henceforth she was his — his — undividedly 
 HIS ! 
 
 " Fear not, Valerie, my loved one, your troubles 
 are over, you have freed yourself from the bondage 
 of one who was unworthy of you ; you are 
 henceforth mine, and mine only." 
 
 She started up at these words, her fears were 
 past — he returned her affection ! The poor 
 blinded woman saw at that moment a vision of 
 happiness, which never was to be realised. 
 
 " Let us go ! — let us go !" she exclaimed, 
 hastily; then, rousing herself: " I am courageous 
 now, I will face the crowd ; where would I not 
 go with you ?" and she cast on him a look of 
 ineffable love and devotion. 
 
 Both resumed their disguises, and left the 
 box. They slowly descended the stairs, amid
 
 ,TWO GENERATIONS. 133 
 
 the hooting of the maskers; concealment had long 
 merged into riot, and the appearance of these 
 two grim visages, offended the crowd highly, — 
 " a has les deterres !" 
 
 " On n'enterre pas les morts ici," — &c. 
 
 The crowd pressed closely upon them, and 
 Valerie, spite of her avowed courage, trembled 
 violently. Suddenly, Bewleigh felt her arm 
 lose its hold upon his, he feared that she was 
 fainting; pressing it tightly to his side, he 
 rather dragged than helped her down the steps. 
 What was the cause of her alarm ? A voice had 
 whispered in her ear, in an undertone, and yet 
 audible to her above all the cries of the savage 
 multitude : " Return, return, it is not yet too 
 late." 
 
 She had not strength to turn and see who 
 thus addressed her : more dead than alive, she 
 allowed herself to be dragged into the street. 
 The feeling of intense cold here roused her, and
 
 134 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 she found herself in the open air, walking in the 
 snow which had fallen during the night, and now 
 lay thick upon the ground. Her companion 
 succeeded with difficulty in awaking the driver 
 of a citadine, who seemed half congealed by the 
 cold ; he lifted Valerie into it, followed her, and 
 the ricketty vehicle set off at the slow trot o 
 the poor lame horse that drew it. 
 
 " Where are we going ?" inquired she, 
 faintly. 
 
 " To the Quartier Beaujon," repUed Bewleigh. 
 " I have taken a small house there for the 
 spring. I have not yet removed into it, it is 
 now quite unoccupied, but I happen to have 
 the key with me. We shall be safer from 
 detection there than elsewhere for to-night, and 
 to-morrow we will decide on our movements." 
 
 She replied not : was not every spot a 
 Paradise with him ! 
 
 The wretched carriage crept slowly along the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 135 
 
 road from the Odeon to the Palais Beaujon ; 
 Valerie shivered with the cold, against which she 
 had no protection except that of her domino. 
 The wind blew in at every crevice : the sleet 
 and snow entered the fly through the front 
 window which was broken. In this manner 
 they traversed the Champs Elysees, where she 
 had so often driven in her own equipage, 
 admired and envied by all her peers. 
 
 Bewleigh desired the man to halt at the 
 entrance of one of the avenues branching out 
 ^of the main road, and both ahghted, for they 
 were near the house, and he thought it more 
 prudent not to leave the secret of their hiding- 
 place in the possession of the coachman. They 
 walked a short distance and reached a small 
 villa, which could scarcely be distinguished in 
 the thick darkness which surrounded it. Bew- 
 leigh opened the door with a latch-key, and 
 both entered the house. A gust of wind drove
 
 136 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 a shower of snow into the hall ; and, from its 
 violence, Bewleigh had difficulty in closing the 
 door. He opened the door of a room on the 
 ground-floor, into which he conducted Valerie. 
 O, wretchedness ! no fire, no candle ; the 
 woman who came daily to attend to the pre- 
 parations making for the new owner's reception, 
 had of course left the house ; and nothing was 
 in order for the arrival of the unexpected 
 guests. 
 
 Bewleigh seated Valerie on a sofa, and then 
 went in search of a light. He fortunately dis- 
 covered a match-hox and a tallow candle which 
 the char-woman had used, and he proceeded 
 to light the fire in the room where Valerie sat 
 The wind howled frightfully around the hght- 
 built and isolated building, and the rain and 
 sleet beat hard against the large, shutterless 
 
 window, which reached to the ground. 
 
 She lay there, shivering, motionless, half
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 137 
 
 petrified with cold, and worn out with mental 
 suffering. 
 
 " Reginald, what is that noise ?" she cried, 
 suddenly starting : " silence — listen !" 
 
 " What noise, my Valerie," said Bewleigh, " I 
 hear nothing but the moaning of the wind, and 
 the shaking of the windows." 
 
 " No, no — some one tried to open the outer 
 door. Do you not hear it ? again, again — O ! 
 Reginald, we are lost !" 
 
 Bewleigh could not hear the sounds that 
 alarmed her ; but, to appease her fears, he took the 
 candle, and went into the passage. He listened, 
 but could hear no sound such as she had 
 fancied ; and he returned to assure her that 
 there was no cause for terror. 
 
 "O, Reginald!" she said, ^'this dreadful 
 storm, this fearful place, all this is an omen 
 of future woe to us : I am sure this night will 
 end fatally."
 
 138 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 "Do not alarm yourself," said he, seating 
 himself on the sofa hy her, and encircling her 
 waist with his arm, while her head drooped on 
 his shoulder, " do not alarm yourself, all will 
 yet be well — to-morrow we will start for your 
 dear Italy; under its sunny sky we will pass 
 days of unbroken happiness, we will visit to- 
 gether the scenes you have loved, and they will 
 be doubly dear in the company of one who 
 loves you fondly, devotedly." 
 
 A loud crash of broken glass arrested his 
 speech — the window was burst open, the 
 candle extinguished by the wind ; but by the 
 flickering light of the fire, Valerie had distin- 
 guished the face of the intruder — she uttered 
 one piercing shriek — a shriek of agony, and 
 fell heavily on the floor. 
 
 It was the Count de Merly !
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 139 
 
 Behind the house lies a small garden. 
 Whose are those two tall forms, entering it by 
 the wicket, at dead of night, and in the 
 violence of the raging storm. Suddenly, they 
 halt. '* This place will serve," says the fore- 
 most of the two. 
 
 " But we have no light," is the reply. 
 
 " We have no need of light — our account 
 can be settled in darkness." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " It is very simple," replies the first speaker ; 
 " I hold in each of my hands a pistol : one is 
 loaded, the other has no ball in it. It is dark — 
 choose w^hich you will, and I will take the 
 other, I know no more than yourself which is 
 the deadly one. Each will then place the 
 muzzle of his pistol at the other's heart, and on 
 a given signal both will fire." 
 
 All this was said with a firmness which 
 made his adversary shudder. He was brave.
 
 140 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 but this butchery, and the collected manner of 
 his foe appalled him. He hesitated — 
 
 " Vous avez peur, Milord." 
 
 He answered this taunt by snatching a 
 pistol from the hand of the other, and gnashing 
 his teeth with rage : 
 
 " I am ready — give the signal." 
 
 The two men could not see each other, but 
 they joined their left hands — with the right 
 each placed the pistol to the other's breast. 
 
 One — two — three ! 
 
 Two reports — and a heavy fall ! 
 
 Then rose a shriek from the house, Valerie, 
 roused from her insensible state by the sound of 
 fire-arms, could scarcely at first gather her 
 senses sufficiently to remember where she was. 
 The truth at once flashed on her — her husband ! 
 — her lover — the pistol — oh, God ! oh, God ! 
 
 She rushed to the door — it was locked. She 
 used all her violence to burst it open, calling
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 141 
 
 loudly for help ; then she tried to push back the 
 ward of the lock with her nails — useless effort ! 
 her nail broke off, and her finger left a trace of 
 blood upon the door. Oh, despair — she tore 
 her hair in impotent agony. The window — the 
 window ! She looked not to see how high it 
 was, but bounded out. She fell heavily on the 
 snow beneath, yet her strength had not quite 
 abandoned her, though her hmbs could scarce 
 support her. She staggered to the spot where 
 a fast- spreading pool of blood showed that the 
 wounded man lay. Another piercing shriek, 
 which rang like a death cry in the air, and she 
 sank senseless on the corpse of her hus- 
 band.
 
 142 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood !" 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. JuUuS CcBSttr, 
 
 This was not the only catastrophe of that 
 night. Another deed of darkness has rendered 
 the 13th of February, 1820, ever memorable 
 to France. 
 
 The noble members of the cSterie of the 
 Chateau had met to celebrate the close of the 
 Carnival, at the house of one of its most 
 
 distinguished members. The Comtesse M e, 
 
 the wife of one of the most influential Ministers 
 of Charles IX., had opened her splendid salons
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 143 
 
 to receive the very elite of French society ; 
 the ball was costume, and the mixture of the 
 graceful and the grotesque presented a most 
 curious spectacle. Hilarity reigned supreme: 
 all the guests seemed to have doffed their 
 dignity, to put on the spirit of mirth with its 
 garb. 
 
 The tall 'and graceful Duchesse de G e, 
 
 attired in the full radiance of Eastern 
 costume, sailed swan-like about the room, 
 asserting her supremacy over all that was 
 noble and beautiful; and in truth her majestic 
 carriage, the dignity of her demeanour, and 
 the radiance of her large, blue eye, seemed 
 to win for her the admiring homage of all 
 present. 
 
 The witching and piquante Duchesse 
 d'E — — c, determined to outvie her only rival 
 in beauty, had adopted a dress of most bizarre 
 and original character. She wore a costume of 
 bright green colour, cut so short as to show to
 
 144 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 advantage the most beautifully-turned ancle 
 imaginable ; one shoe was red and the other 
 green, and two stockings of these different 
 colours contrasted with the shoes : a tiny heel 
 slyly attached to these, lent the lovely wearer 
 a little of the height which was alone wanting 
 to complete her beauty. Mixed in her brilliant 
 black hair, which hung in curls about her neck, 
 were strips of velvet of the two colours, in 
 spiral twists ; and on her head she wore a 
 small pointed cap of red velvet, coquettishly 
 placed on one side, in which was stuck a little 
 trident of diamonds ; her faultless arms were 
 quite bare, and in her small hand she carried 
 another trident of tinsel, green and red. And 
 then her face: that piercing look from her 
 black eye ; that smile, which seemed half 
 wicked from excess of mirth ; all this, com- 
 bined with her dress, made her the most 
 charming sprite that can be imagined. 
 
 Another costume worn on that occasion
 
 TWO GEXERATIOyS. 145 
 
 must not pass xindescnbed. Hie yoj tall 
 
 Comte P ^t lies roHiiig on tbe flocH-, amid 
 
 the uncontrolled shouts of lau^iter of the 
 spectatcH^ in the dress of a French babr. 
 The velvet bourrelet, the white pinafore, llie 
 leading strings — nothing has beai forgotten; 
 and a little nurse, in eauehaise cap, striped 
 woQlk& pettJooat, and wooden shoes, stands 
 over him, rod in hand, and beats him for 
 felling : he gets up, and runs off crying loudly, 
 with an irresistible £ice a( diildish naughtiness, 
 while his little nurse tries in vain to hdd him 
 by the leading-strings. 
 
 Supper is over, and gaiety is at its height ; 
 they are enjoying themselves with that fulness 
 of m^riment, that burst of joyous spirits, 
 which Parisians alone can fed, when (mi a 
 sadden the does* of the balknoom opais, a 
 servant rushes in breathless, and utters almosl 
 inaudibly some announoenieiit to his master. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 The Comte M e, terrified, sinks on a 
 
 chair, and is immediately surrounded by his 
 guests, who press about him to ask the cause 
 of his fearful excitement. 
 
 His voice is broken with emotion ; but amid 
 breathless silence he pronounces these dread 
 words : 
 
 "The Due . . . de Berri . . . has . . , 
 been . . . assassinated !" 
 
 Never did the sun rise on such a tragic 
 
 scene as that which was presented in a small 
 
 dressing room of the Opera-house, where lay 
 
 the unfortunate Due de Berri — France's hope, 
 
 France's idol! Murdered on the steps of the 
 
 building, he had been carried into this wretched 
 
 place, and lay dying on a mattress which had 
 
 been hastily procured. 
 
 By his side stood the unhappy Duchess, who
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 147 
 
 had shown throughout this fatal night a 
 spirit of fortitude truly heroic. Weeping 
 and lamenting around him, stood the faithful 
 adherents to the cause of legitimacy, dressed — 
 O fearful contrast ! — in their grotesque garbs of 
 the previous night. The blood that flowed 
 from his wound had stained the dresses of many 
 of the masqueraders, who had aspired to the 
 honour of using their endeavours to relieve his 
 sufferings. Fmitless exertions ! The assassin 
 had not missed his aim, and on that day 
 France's destiny was sealed. The cause of 
 legitimacy had for its sole supporters a feeble 
 and senile monarch, and an unborn child ! 
 
 H 2
 
 148 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 *' Yet if I name my guilt — 'tis not to boast, 
 None can deem harshlier of me than I deem ; 
 I trace this scrawl because I cannot rest. 
 I've nothing to reproach, or to request. 
 
 LORD BYRON. DOTl Juatl. 
 
 It may perhaps be well to explain how de 
 Merly had become aware of his wife's elope- 
 ment and hiding-place in time to intercept the 
 flight of the guilty pair. 
 
 He had returned from the Chamber much 
 earlier than usual ; an important debate, in 
 which his wife knew him to be deeply in-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 149 
 
 terested, had been adjourned for some technical 
 reason, and many of the members were glad to get 
 away and amuse themselves at the bal masque, 
 to which the Parisians of the upper classes in 
 those days resorted far more assiduously than 
 they do now. 
 
 On returning home, de Merly was informed 
 that his wife had gone out. This he thought 
 very strange, but as he left her entire liberty, he 
 reflected that it was no very imcommon occur- 
 rence. He had ever reposed the greatest con- 
 fidence in Valerie, he had looked upon her as 
 the divinity that brightened his home, to whom 
 he liked above all things to devote the hours he 
 could spare from his political labours. He 
 admired her talents, and did all in his power 
 to forward her avocations in the progress of her 
 art ; he had taken her to Italy that she might 
 realize her favourite dream of seeing the country 
 whence painting had sprung. There he bought
 
 150 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 at any price the picture she preferred ; hut, with 
 all his kindness, she could find in him no sym- 
 pathy, no common chord that vibrated in both 
 their hearts. He made inapt remarks upon the 
 pictures which he purchased solely for her 
 pleasure, he praised her performances all equally, 
 whether they were excellent or not, and in truth, 
 in so doing, he spoke his mind, for he verily be- 
 lieved that she could do nothing that was not 
 perfect. 
 
 The assiduities of Bewleigh, and his daily 
 visits, at first created no suspicion in his mind ; 
 but by degrees he observed a change in his 
 wife's manner. She had at aU times treated 
 him coldly, and this iU return of his afi'ection 
 distressed him greatly; but he never would 
 allow her to observe that he felt it, and was 
 always led on by the vain hope that by un- 
 ceasing attention and daily acts of kindness 
 he should succeed eventually in winning a heart
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 151 
 
 that was never destined to be his. But, of late, 
 her coldness had changed into fretfulness, she 
 seemed ever anxious, and about some hidden 
 cause; even her favourite occupation seemed 
 to have lost its charm : the atelier was vacant, 
 and she appeared to live in a state of feverish 
 excitement which greatly alarmed him. 
 
 On the morning of the ball, he had asked 
 her some questions regarding her health, and 
 of the cause of the alteration which had taken 
 place in her ; and the wretched woman, con- 
 struing his innocent questions into indirect 
 accusations, was panic-stricken, and she at once 
 precipitated herself on the step which proved so 
 fatal to her. She used all the secresy she could 
 in the preparations of her flight, but she had 
 ever been so dependant on her servants, and so 
 unused to do anything for herself that the 
 prospect of doing so much without assistance 
 quite appalled her.
 
 152 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Of the process of procuring a box for a bal 
 masque, to which she had never been before, 
 she knew nothing, and therefore invented a very 
 awkward excuse for sending her maid to retain 
 one. But how often does it happen to those 
 whose minds are agitated by the dread con- 
 viction of the imperative necessity of conceal- 
 ment, that the very complication of the story 
 they invent with that view betrays its falsehood, 
 where a simpler one might have succeeded in 
 deceiving. She told her maid that one of her 
 friends, whose husband was very jealous, could 
 find no means of procuring a box or a dis- 
 guise, and had written to her to entreat her to 
 purchase them for her. She therefore gave the 
 maid the money, and sent her to the bureau and 
 the costumier's. She then retired to her room, 
 where she passed some hours endeavouring to 
 write a letter to her husband. She began one, 
 and tore it ; she began a second, her fast-falling
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 153 
 
 tears rendered it illegible, and so on to the 
 seventh, of which the following is a copy : 
 
 " Since you know all, since my guilt can no 
 longer be hidden from you, you will hardly be 
 surprised at the step I now take. O, Alphonse, 
 do not cast your malediction on your unhappy 
 wife ! I have suffered — I suffer at this dreadful 
 moment — bitter pangs of remorse, shame, and 
 confusion. The torments of mind I have 
 endured have punished me for my crime: O 
 more than I can bear ! 
 
 '* I confess my fault, without daring to ask a 
 pardon which I cannot hope to obtain. I 
 cannot live on in falsehood, to which my days 
 must be doomed, if I remained with you. 
 How could I bear to look on you again after 
 such an avowal ! I shrink with horror at the 
 thought that the paper on which I trace this 
 hurried scrawl will meet your eye ! How 
 
 H 3
 
 ib4 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 could I endure that piercing glance, which 
 would cut me to the heart with its searching 
 earnestness ? No ; I have sinned against all 
 that is sacred— all that is pure — and must abide 
 my fate. 
 
 *' Farewell — farewell ! Hot tears of anguish 
 dim my sight, and fall so fast upon this sheet, 
 that I fear you may scarce be able to decipher 
 it. I do not merit your forgiveness — I do not 
 hope — I do not even crave it ! Forget me, 
 and reflect, after the first burst of sorrow at 
 finding that I am gone, reflect that I ever 
 repaid with ingratitude and coldness all your 
 kindness to me. I wished to return your 
 affection — I strove to do so — indeed I did, 
 Alphonse ! but love is a weed, which, sown by 
 the winds, grows of its own accord, but cannot 
 be reared ! 
 
 ^' Your life will be far happier when I am 
 away. Mine, alas ! — borne down as I must
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 155 
 
 ever be by the sense of my guilt and shame — 
 
 will be one of sorrow and remorse. My 
 
 retribution has already commenced, for I am 
 
 now — O, how miserable ! 
 
 " Once more farewell ; forget that you ever 
 
 had a wretched wife so unworthy of the name 
 
 you gave her, and which she now writes for the 
 
 last time, to call down a blessing on your 
 
 head ! 
 
 " Valerie de Merly." 
 
 Poor Valerie ! She did not really feel all 
 she wrote, but she thought she did, and so 
 great were her fears at this moment, that she 
 would have abandoned the project, but for the 
 dreadful thought of the string of falsehoods she 
 must tell, and of the ineffectual efforts she must 
 make to screen her guilt from the eyes of the 
 world. But the die was cast ; she could not 
 throw again, and tremblingly she prepared to 
 accomplish her purpose.
 
 156 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 The maid returned with the ticket and the 
 domino, and anxious to penetrate her mistress's 
 secrets, she inquired the address of the lady for 
 whom they were intended. 
 
 " I dare not confide it even to you, Celestine, 
 for fear of compromising her, but will take them 
 to her myself" 
 
 " Shall I order the carriage, Madame ?" 
 
 " No, call me a voiture de remise ^ for I must 
 go at once, it is late." 
 
 Celestine went to call a fiacre, and meanwhile 
 Valerie stole down the stairs to her husband's 
 room. She shuddered at the very creaking of 
 the stairs under her light tread : the turning of 
 the handle as she opened the door appeared to 
 her troubled conscience as if some one were 
 approaching, every sound told of discovery and 
 accusation. 
 
 Half exhausted with fear, she reached the 
 table at which de Merly usually sat, and placed
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 157 
 
 the letter upon it. Then darting out of the 
 room, as if fearing the gaze of the busts that 
 stood round the statesman's study, she ran out 
 to the hall, where Celestine was waiting with 
 the fiacre. It was now dark, and the snow fell 
 fast. 
 
 " Will Madame have another warm cloak ?" 
 
 " No, no," she replied with anxious impatience, 
 " only let me go — let me go immediately." 
 
 " Where to, Madame ?" inquired the driver. 
 
 " To the Boulevards, and I will then direct 
 you further." 
 
 The carriage drove off, to her inexpressible 
 relief. She put on the domino in the carriage, 
 and desired to be driven to the Odeon. When 
 they arrived there, the doors were not yet 
 opened, and she drove about until she could 
 gain admittance to the ball. 
 
 Meanwhile the Comte de Merly had returned, 
 and soon afterwards went to his table to write.
 
 158 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 There he found the fatal letter. His mixed 
 feelings of astonishment, despair, and fury, 
 baffle description. He paced his room with 
 violence, then sat down, buried his face in his 
 hands, and wept like a child. But lie was a 
 man of strong mind, and as if ashamed of his 
 weakness, he so far conquered his emotion as to 
 affect great coolness while he questioned his 
 servants as to the time of Valerie's departure. 
 None of them could give him any clue, until 
 Celestine was interrogated in her turn. At 
 first she said she only knew that " Madame had 
 gone out to pay a visit, but she knew not to 
 whom. Madame had some cause for discretion, 
 she thouo;ht, since she would not take her 
 carriage, but had gone in a voiture de place" 
 After much earnest questioning — for the Count 
 derived his only hope of discovering his wife's 
 retreat from what she might disclose — he suc- 
 ceeded in eliciting from her the story of the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 159 
 
 supposed friend for whom the box and domino 
 had been procured, and having done so, he 
 said quite calmly : 
 
 " I have asked you these questions, because 
 it is of importance that I should see the Coun- 
 tess immediately, as an unexpected letter sum- 
 mons me from Paris for a few days. But I can 
 gain no clue from what you have said, and can 
 wait no longer. When — when she returns, you 
 will tell her that I will write when I reach the 
 place I am obliged to go to. Now leave me, 
 I must write some letters before I go." 
 
 The girl, surprised at these events in a family 
 so quiet as that of her master, left the room. 
 He proceeded to look through the papers in his 
 bureau ; he burnt many, locked up others, and 
 concealed the key ; and then wr«4;e a few hurried 
 words on a sheet of paper, which he placed in 
 his pocket. He next proceeded to open a box 
 containing a pair of pistols ; these he took out
 
 160 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 and placed in his pocket, and wrapping a large 
 cloak about him, he sallied out into the cold, 
 dark night. He suspected, from the waiting- 
 maid's story, where he should find Valerie. 
 We know the rest.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 161 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 33m td^ bod^ nocE) fo Jung, fo jung 
 Unb foil fc^on fterSen ! 
 
 @(^on voax icJ) and), unb bag n^ar mein QSerberbcn. 
 
 ©ot^e. g'auft. 
 
 Great was the consternation, heavy the 
 gloom, that hung over Paris on the following 
 day, one in truth of ashes and sorrow ! Still 
 greater were the fears, the manifold apprehen- 
 sions entertained by all classes. The nation 
 saw, in the assassination of the Duke de Berri, 
 not merely the bloody deed of one hand ; that 
 hand was but the instrument of many minds, 
 and told of hidden plots, of dark conspiracies.
 
 162 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 It is glorious to reflect that when in England 
 some traitor hand has been raised against the 
 person of our beloved Sovereign, our anxiety 
 ceases when we learn that the royal person is 
 not hurt ; we see in such a deed, only the work 
 of some one fanatic, and the popular feeling of 
 loyalty rises many degrees in consequence. But 
 in France it has never been so ; the regicide has 
 ever been the tool of party, and never was he 
 more so than on this occasion. Everybody took 
 the alarm: the English were hated, and rumour 
 told of a general massacre among the foreigners ; 
 the reign of terror was to return, and this cen- 
 tury would see another '93. 
 
 It is not then wonderful at such a moment, 
 when public attention was absorbed by one all- 
 engrossing event, that the tragedy in which 
 Bewleigh was concerned, should pass almost 
 unnoticed. The body of de Merly was dis- 
 covered in the garden by the old housekeeper
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 163 
 
 on her return next morning, and she gave notice 
 to the police. But they were so occupied in 
 searching for the accomplices of the Due de 
 Bern's murderer, so engaged in preparation 
 against hourly-expected riot, that they scarce 
 had time to attend her call. One or two of the 
 corps went to the house in the evening, and 
 hastily made a proces verbal, and examined the 
 body. By the dead man's side was found a 
 pistol, and in his pocket a paper, whereon was 
 written : 
 
 "I die by my own hand— by the decree of 
 fate. 
 
 " A. DE Merly." 
 
 So the wretched man was supposed to have 
 committed suicide, and it was considered wiser 
 to hush up the matter, as there might be 
 some hidden connection between the two 
 events ; the more so, as de Merly had
 
 164 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 always been one of the staunchest adherents 
 to the Bourbon cause. Society was all broken 
 up, so that the matter could not be discussed 
 generally, and vague rumours were passed from 
 mouth to mouth, and forgotten as soon as 
 heard, in the excitement of personal fears and 
 party feeling. 
 
 By the time order was a little restored, and 
 society met again, the novelty of the event 
 was quite over. The story current in Paris 
 was, that, finding his wife had eloped, de 
 Merly had rushed off to the house which he 
 knew Lord Bewleigh had taken near the 
 Champs Elysees, expecting to find the guilty 
 pair ; but that, on arriving there, he ascertained 
 that they had been there, but had already taken 
 their departure, and that, in despair, he had 
 destroyed himself. 
 
 The greatest regret was lodged in the 
 hearts of the poor, whose cause he had ever
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 165 
 
 supported with all the power of his eloquence ; 
 his party in the " Chambre" also felt his 
 loss very deeply ; but in society his place was 
 soon filled, and the subject dropped — the 
 tragedy was forgotten. The women rather re- 
 joiced at the absence of one who had never 
 sympathized with their frivolities, and yet 
 outshone them all : the elegans and disap- 
 pointed suitors declared that she was "Bien 
 attrappee," " Si elle m'avait ecoute," &c., and 
 thus the great sea of oblivion rolled on, and 
 soon effaced the traces left by the de Merlys in 
 the sandy soil of Paris society. 
 
 But we are gifted with a power of seeing 
 what is hidden to all other eyes ; of following 
 the fugitive to his most secret hiding-place, and 
 penetrating his inmost thoughts ; and we will 
 use our privilege, that we may be present at the 
 denouement of this fatal tragedy.
 
 66 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 A year has elapsed since we left Valerie 
 senseless in the garden. The events of that 
 night, and the cold which had seized her 
 whole frame, left indelible traces on her 
 frail constitution : a fever, attended with 
 delirious ravings, attacked her on her arrival 
 at the first stage of their journey to Italy. 
 After her recovery from a long and dangerous 
 illness, they had proceeded by slow stages to 
 Florence. 
 
 The scene now lies in a vast sleeping-room 
 at Florence. The furniture is of that massive, 
 sombre style peculiar to the palazzi of Italy. 
 Winter has set in with severity, and two 
 figures are seen sitting close to the fire, vainly 
 endeavouring to warm themselves by its 
 embers. At the farther extremity of the 
 room stands an immense bed— a state-bed in
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 167 
 
 former days ; its dark hangings of damask, 
 dusty with age, are closely drawn to keep 
 out the drafts that penetrate all the crevices 
 of the ill-fitting doors. By the bed is placed 
 a table, on which lie bottles containing drugs 
 and potions, and a feeble light which alone 
 illumines this immense room, and imparts to 
 it a chiUing, comfortless air. 
 
 " Shall I give her the draught now V" 
 inquired the woman of her fellow-watcher. 
 
 " No," replies the physician, " it is better 
 she should sleep on, if she can ; but her hour 
 is near at hand, and I fear, from her great 
 weakness, and with this high fever, she will 
 scarcely survive it." 
 
 The nm'se and the doctor sat in silence for 
 a short time, until a low moan proceeding 
 from the bed, informed them that the sufferer 
 was awake. The nurse prepared the potion 
 which the doctor had ordered, and offered it to 
 the patient.
 
 168 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 She made a sign refusing it : 
 
 " O, let me die — let me die in peace !" she 
 said, feebly. 
 
 " Do not force it upon her," interposed the 
 physician; "we must abide the hazard of 
 her life, and that will soon be decided." 
 
 They returned to their place near the fire, 
 to await the critical moment which would decide 
 the fate of the sufferer. 
 
 The patient continued to moan feebly. A 
 tall man now entered the room silently, and 
 anxiously inquired of the doctor what change 
 had taken place in the sufferer. 
 
 " None," was the reply — " she continues pre- 
 cisely in the same state, and has been delirious 
 several times, talking rapidly and incoherently." 
 
 " Could you gather any sense from what she 
 said?" 
 
 " Scarcely any ; she talked much of painters, 
 of a song of Stradella's, which seems to have 
 made a deep impression on her : she called for
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 169 
 
 her husband ; we assured her you were near, but 
 she continued to cry out for . . . Merlet ... or 
 some such name ; then she spoke of a duel — 
 and snow — but we could collect nothing intelli- 
 gible, so rapid and unconnected was her 
 utterance." 
 
 Reginald, for it was he, felt relieved at hear- 
 ing that she had not diMilged anything which 
 could give rise to suspicion. 
 
 *'How soon do you expect the crisis?" he asked. 
 
 " I cannot say, but it must soon come." 
 
 A convulsive scream proceeding from the bed, 
 interrupted the conversation. All rushed to 
 the patient's assistance. It was the mother's 
 fost cry of agony ! 
 
 # # # # 
 
 All is now hushed. Presently the feeble 
 wail of a new-born infant breaks the silence that 
 reigns in the great, dingy room. A child is 
 born ! — The mother breathes no more ! 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 PART II. 
 
 I 2
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 173 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ** If happiness has not her seat 
 And centre in the breast. 
 We may be wise, or rich, or great. 
 But never can be blest. 
 
 ** Nae treasures, nor pleasures 
 Could mak us happy lang ; 
 The heart aye's the part aye 
 That makes us right or wrang." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 " Here are a few of the unpleasant' st words 
 That ever blotted paper !" . . . 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Let us turn to more peaceful scenes, and 
 refresh our minds with a glimpse of the happy 
 content that reigned at Bewleigh Hall. 
 
 Reginald's mother still occupies the same oak
 
 174 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 chair : the little greyhound still lies at her feet. 
 The faithful animal, now old and infirm, is still 
 endeared to his mistress by his faithfulness and 
 attachment. On the other side of the fire-place 
 sits Henry St. Meurice, who, since his brother's 
 departure for the continent, has left Cambridge, 
 and feeling that he has no vocation for the 
 church, has purchased a commission in a cavalry 
 regiment. He has not as yet joined, and is 
 passing the time of his leave with his mother 
 at the family seat. 
 
 From childhood he had loved her dearly; 
 and the great pleasure he had always found in 
 her society, was still increased now that Reginald 
 was absent. For the marked difference in their 
 tastes, and dispositions, had long caused an 
 estrangement between the brothers. They were 
 to all appearances good friends, but the gulf 
 that lay between them, grew wider daily ; and
 
 TWO GENERi^TIONS. ifb 
 
 as their characters developed themselves, the 
 want of sympathy became more apparent, and 
 each liked the other less. Lady Bewleigh was 
 much distressed at observing this decrease of 
 fraternal affection, and had long endeavoured to 
 check the assumption of superiority on the part 
 of the elder, and the firm resistance on that of 
 the younger brother, for, pliant and biddable as 
 he was to all, he never would brook the haughty 
 authority which Bewleigh endeavoured to assume 
 over him. It was a peculiarity in the character 
 of the latter, that he sought every opportunity 
 of imposing his sway on the heads of all who 
 would bear it, and he practised this assumption of 
 dominion on the easy nature of his brother, who 
 amazed and offended him much by what he 
 considered an unwarrantable assertion of inde- 
 pendence. In a pecuniary point of view, Henry 
 was quite independent of Bewleigh, for the late
 
 176 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Lord had placed a large mortgage on the estate 
 for the younger children, and as Henry was the 
 sole survivor of these, his father, thinking his 
 eldest son had already enough, had given St. 
 Meurice the benefit of their decease; so that 
 he enjoyed an income considerably greater than 
 that of the generahty of younger sons. 
 
 His appearance differed as much from his 
 brother's as did his character. He was decidedly 
 good-looking; but his principal charm was the 
 expression of sweetness on his countenance. 
 He had a peculiar smile which won every heart, 
 and an eye of that soft blue which looks like 
 velvet under a crystal covering. He was tall 
 and well formed, but his limbs wanted that look 
 of force, of nerve, which characterised the figure 
 of his brother. If he was indolent it was not 
 from choice, but from nature, and he would 
 have appeared to the stranger's eye at this
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 177 
 
 moment, quite happy, in a large arm-chair, 
 warming his feet at the good, blazing fire, and 
 seeming to enjoy wdth all the energy of laziness, 
 the " dolcefar niente.'' 
 
 But this state of inactivity did not extend to 
 his mind ; the changing expression which 
 passed over his face, shewed that his mind was 
 at work, though his body was at rest. He fixed 
 an earnest look on the grate, as if to read in 
 the varying forms of the falling embers, the 
 horoscope of his future. 
 
 He was about to take that one great step in 
 life which must either ensure his earthly happi- 
 ness, or doom him to perpetual discomfort, per- 
 haps to unceasing misery — marriage. In the 
 partner of his choice he had, he thought, 
 found those qualities which were calculated to 
 smooth the path of his existence. He w^as 
 naturally of a domestic turn, and of a sociable dis- 
 position, and sought for his companion one who 
 
 I 3
 
 178 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 would be satisfied with the small home which 
 he could offer her. He disdained to seek an 
 heiress, and always protested that he never 
 would be dependant on his wife ; that he pre- 
 ferred smaU means and an affectionate partner, 
 to riches and contention; and, therefore, he 
 had made his choice from a station rather infe- 
 rior to his own. 
 
 The Rector of the village near Bewleigh had a 
 daughter, who, from childhood had been the 
 constant playmate of the boys at the Hall ; no 
 game was complete, no expedition could suc- 
 ceed, unless the dark-eyed Florence Meynell 
 joined in them. Henry, who had much dis- 
 crimination in reading character, had, in the 
 course of their long intimacy, learned to value 
 her amiable qualities ; and in the society with 
 which he had since mixed, he found none who 
 inspired him with such a feeling of affectionate 
 regard as the once little companion of his child-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 179 
 
 hood, now grown into a fine girl of eighteen. 
 She loved Henry weU, and had ever preferred 
 him to Reginald ; but, since she had been old 
 enough to reason on such subjects, she had care- 
 fully abstained from encouraging his advances, 
 determined that if she was to become his wife, 
 it should be from his own impulse, and not 
 from any witchery that she might have exerted 
 over his mind. 
 
 Henry always made his mother his best friend 
 and adviser on all occasions, and it may be sup- 
 posed that on so important a subject as this, he 
 did not fail to apply to her for counsel and 
 direction. 
 
 She was rather startled at first ; for though 
 she had observed their growing intimacy, she 
 had attributed it to habit and the endearing 
 reminiscences of childhood. She pointed out 
 to him the disparity in their position, and said 
 she always considered it well that each should 
 marry in his own rank, adding however :
 
 180 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " If you really feel that you will be happy 
 with little Florence, (the ' little' was her title 
 from childhood,) I cannot oppose anything 
 which would ensure your happiness, dearest 
 Henry, that being of course the first object in 
 life. She is a dear creature, and will, I am 
 sure, make you a good wife ; so think over it 
 well ; do nothing rashly, my dear boy, and 
 decide for yourself." 
 
 To "decide for himself" was precisely what 
 he had never learnt to do. 
 
 " I have reflected, mother, and I feel a con- 
 viction that my happiness is centered in her. 
 I have not yet spoken to her on the subject, 
 but she will not refuse me if you consent. 
 Therefore pray advise me." 
 
 " Why not wait awhile," said his mother ; 
 " you are both young, and have scarcely seen 
 the world. In the course of a year or two 
 you may meet some one to please you stiU
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 181 
 
 " Where ?" said Henry. " I have passed 
 the whole of this season in London ; have 
 danced with all the beauties in town; but 
 their heads are as empty as their gigot sleeves, 
 and their brains as light as their gauze dresses. 
 No, no, — no frivolous London girl for me ; I 
 am not made for a London beau, and one of 
 those town-bred misses would be as much out 
 of her element in Devonshire, as I should be 
 m the heated rooms she inhabits. Give me 
 a good heart, an attachment founded on long 
 acquaintance, not one formed during a minuet. 
 Give me similarity of tastes, a mutual liking 
 for the same pursuits; these, these, mother, 
 can alone bring happiness under a low roof, 
 and these I have found in my dear Florence." 
 
 The question was decided : Henry proposed, 
 and was accepted. The artless girl did not 
 attempt to conceal the pleasure his offer 
 caused her : she confessed her love for him
 
 182 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 frankly; and assured him, that had he not 
 chosen her for his wife, she would, without 
 assigning the cause, have refused all proposals 
 that might have been made to her. 
 
 The day was fixed that should see them 
 united ; and as there was no reason for delay- 
 ing the completion of their happiness, an early 
 one was chosen. They were married with all 
 the touching simplicity that attends on a 
 country wedding. The bride and bridegroom 
 walked together from the Hall to the parish 
 church, old Lady Bewleigh following, slowly, 
 on the arm of the bride's father. The vil- 
 lagers, young and old, left their work and 
 their lowly roof to do honour to the happy 
 pair, to both of whom they were sincerely 
 attached; the children of the school received 
 them at the churchyard gate, and strewed 
 flowers in their way ; and many an infirm 
 and aged woman left her bed — that bed
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 183 
 
 which the fair bride had often visited in the 
 hour of sickness, to call down a blessing on 
 their union. The ceremony was performed 
 by the bride's father, whose aged voice fal- 
 tered more than once as he read the impres- 
 sive service. The church was fiUed with 
 people of all classes, who had assembled from 
 far and near to do honour to the couple, and 
 each Amen to the prayers offered to Heaven 
 for their happiness, found an echo in the 
 hearts of all present. No sumptuous break- 
 fast, no empty speeches, no post-chaises, no 
 favours ; a kind salute to all — an unaffected 
 tear at parting, and aU was over. 
 
 They passed the first month of their mar- 
 ried life at a small place which the late Lord 
 Bewleigh had built and given to his wife, 
 calling it " Helen's Retreat." As they started, 
 a letter was placed in Henry's hand. He 
 scarcely looked at the writing, and put it in
 
 184 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 his pocket, where it remained forgotten for 
 some days. His servant chanced to find it, 
 and brought it to him. It was from Lord Bew- 
 leigh, and ran as follows : 
 
 " Naples, 
 "October, 17, 1823. 
 
 " My dear Henry, 
 
 " Your letter of the 1st, which has just 
 reached me, has occasioned me considerable 
 surprise, and raised my deep displeasure. 
 The unexpected announcement of your mar- 
 riage, of which I am only made aware when 
 all is decided — this your summary mode of 
 proceeding, without consulting me (which, as 
 head of the family, I had a right to ex- 
 pect that you would have done on so important 
 an occasion as the present), has annoyed me 
 more than I can express. 
 
 " Since, however, you have dealt thus with 
 me, I have no hesitation in acting towards you
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 185 
 
 in a like manner ; and, as you did not value my 
 advice, I beg you to accept my opinions and 
 resolutions instead. 
 
 " I disapprove highly of the connection which 
 you are about to form, not that I undervalue 
 Miss MeyneU's good qualities, I have every 
 reason to consider her a very respectable, nay, 
 estimable person, but I assert that you are 
 lowering — not only yourself — but the position 
 of the noble family to which you belong, by 
 introducing into it a person so inferior to your- 
 self in rank and station. 
 
 " That is my opinion : — my decision is as 
 follows : 
 
 " Should you persist in forming such a me- 
 salliance, the gates of the family seat wiU be 
 closed — not against yourself — but against your 
 wife, whom I look upon as quite unworthy ol 
 entering Bewleigh Hall in the capacity of a 
 member of the Bewleigh family, whose es-
 
 186 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 cutcheon has never yet been sullied by any blood 
 inferior to its own. 
 
 " I hope that this letter may reach you in 
 time to effect a change in your rash decision, 
 and that you will weigh well the privileges 
 which you forfeit to carry out a mere romantic 
 and boyish fancy. 
 
 " Should your persist in your foolish project, 
 I have only to say that I cannot at any time 
 retract what I have resolved, nor be induced by 
 any entreaties to alter my determination, which 
 I have not arrived at without much reflection, 
 and that amount of consideration which is due 
 to so important a subject. 
 
 " Hoping, therefore, that this timely advice 
 
 may not be without its good effect, 
 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Your affectionate brother, 
 
 " Bewleigh." 
 To the Hon. H. St. Meurice, 
 Bewleigh Hall.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 187 
 
 Henry had scarcely patience to read this 
 heartless letter to the end. *' Miss Meynell — 
 respectable — unworthy of entering Bewleigh as 
 a member of the family !" 
 
 This of the little playfellow of his childhood ! 
 This of one whom he had chosen for his wife ! 
 No ! this was more than he could brook — 
 more than he would suffer, even from " the 
 head of the family/' as Bewleigh arrogantly 
 styled himself. He seized the letter again, 
 and read it a second time ; looked closely at 
 the writing, to see whether it could be Regi- 
 nald's. Too true ! and difficult as he found it 
 to believe that such words could have been 
 penned by a brother, they stood there, in 
 obstinate black and white, to convince him 
 that he was not deceived. 
 
 He sat down, and placing the letter before 
 him, rested his head on his hands and his 
 elbows on each side of it, and reflected deeply.
 
 188 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 He had ever looked on his brother as a man 
 of impetuous character; he did not give him 
 credit for sensitive feelings or tenderness of 
 heart ; but he never could have considered him 
 capable of such an action as this; and so 
 overwhelmed was he by this sudden blow, that 
 he was scarcely aware of the approach of 
 Florence. 
 
 She entered the room; and on perceiving 
 her, he hastily crumpled the letter, set fire to 
 it, and threw it down on the marble hearth. 
 He would not for worlds that it had fallen into 
 her hands, and so long as she was present he 
 did his best to conceal his emotion. When 
 she was gone, he collected the ashes to which 
 it was reduced, and placed them carefully in a 
 box, which he sealed and labelled : 
 
 " All that remains of my love for my 
 brother !'' 
 
 He never answered this letter ; but from that
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 189 
 
 day forth he hated his brother with an intensity 
 of hatred which an indolent and phlegmatic 
 spirit alone can feel, when roused into activity 
 bv some violent emotion.
 
 190 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 " Sweet flow' ret, pledge of meikle love. 
 And ward o' mony a prayer, 
 What heart o' stane wad thou na move, 
 Sae helpless, sweet, and fair ! 
 
 ** November limples o'er the lea, 
 Chill on thy lovely form ; 
 And gane, alas ! the shelt'ring tree, 
 Should shield thee frae the storm." 
 BURNS. On the birth of a posthumous child. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Meynell had for many 
 years held the vicarage of Bewleigh. He 
 had received the living from the late Lord,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 191 
 
 and worthily had he fulfilled the duties of 
 his sacred office. At the time of his entering 
 upon his ministry, he had lately married a 
 lady well fitted to play one of the most 
 charming parts that can be assigned to a 
 woman on this worldly stage — that of a 
 rector's wife. She performed with fervent 
 zeal, and heartfelt devotion the task assigned 
 to her ; and she was beloved by all, from 
 the old, whose bed of sickness she smoothed, 
 to the child, whose first steps in education 
 she guided with exemplary patience and 
 womanly gentleness. 
 
 But she was not destined long to continue 
 that mission which she so gracefully filled, 
 and feU an early victim to consumption ! 
 Never was grief felt more deeply, or shown 
 more sensibly than on this sad occasion. 
 The little shops of the village were closed, 
 and the simple funeral procession passed
 
 192 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 through two hnes of uncovered heads and 
 sorrowing faces, from the home whence 
 she was carried, to that where all that was 
 mortal of her must abide until the end of 
 time ! 
 
 She left two daughters, Edith and Florence. 
 Both the sisters were delicate, and showed 
 early symptoms of proneness to the disease 
 which had so early bereaved them of their 
 mother. Edith was the elder by seven years, 
 and soon afterwards married a gentleman of 
 some property in the county. Mr. Tyrell 
 had early inherited his father^s possessions, 
 and although not rich, he was able to offer 
 his wife a very comfortable home, with the 
 power of handing down his property to his 
 son, should he have one ; but it was strictly 
 entailed in the male line, and in the event 
 of his having no son, must go to a very 
 distant relation.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 193 
 
 The character of Mr. Tyrell may be 
 summed up in a brief sentence, and that a 
 flattering one. He was a genuine young 
 English squire : fond of the country, hating 
 the town ; devoted to field sports, and ever 
 anxious to extend hospitality, so far as his 
 means would aUow him to do so. They 
 lived happily together. He loved and 
 esteemed Edith greatly ; she entertained the 
 highest opinion of her husband: and what 
 conjugal affection can be real or lasting, 
 without mutual esteem and unreserved con- 
 fidence ? 
 
 There was but one drawback to their 
 complete felicity, and that was the dis- 
 appointment he felt at five years of their 
 wedded life passing without the birth of a 
 child. He had fondly hoped to transmit 
 his possessions to his own son, and he felt 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 mortified at the thought of being compelled 
 to leave all to a distant connexion, whom 
 he had never seen, and of whom report 
 spoke most unfavourably. 
 
 The sixth year of their marriage was an 
 eventful one. It opened with the alliance 
 of Florence to Henry St. Meurice, which 
 happy event was soon clouded by the loss 
 of their loved and respected father. A 
 malignant fever, which he had caught while 
 attending the poor of his parish, amongst 
 whom this fearful malady was at that time 
 very prevalent, had hurried him from the 
 scene of his noble and courageous exertions, 
 almost before his daughters could reach 
 his death-bed to receive his blessing. When 
 they arrived, he was not expected to outlive 
 another hour ; he was delirious, and recog- 
 nized none of those who surrounded him;
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 195 
 
 but very shortly before his death he grew 
 calm, and seemed to look for some one 
 whom he could not see. 
 
 " Father ! dear father ! do you not know 
 us ? We are here — Florence and I ! O ! 
 dear father, say that you know my voice, 
 and give us your blessing 1" 
 
 " I can distinguish nothing ; but I hear 
 you, my child; and I thank my God, in 
 whose presence I shall soon appear, that you 
 are both here, my dearest children, to bid 
 me farewell." 
 
 All were weeping bitterly. 
 
 *'Do not weep for me. I die with full 
 trust in the mercy of God — -in the atone- 
 ment of the Saviour ; may He pardon my 
 sins, and receive my soul ; and may we 
 soon — I say soon, for the longest space of 
 human life will appear as but one moment 
 in Heaven — may we soon be reunited in 
 
 K 2
 
 196 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Paradise ! Farewell, my children ! may you 
 both be happy, and may the Lord's blessing, 
 and the blessing of your dying father, rest 
 on your loved heads !" He said, and fell into 
 calm and profound sleep. From that sleep 
 he never woke again ! 
 
 Such was the good Pastor's death-bed ! 
 
 This was not the only trial in store for 
 poor Edith. So sudden a blow, and the 
 loss of one whom she had so warmly 
 loved, so filially revered, caused her deep 
 sorrow, and cast a gloom over an event 
 which else would have caused her great 
 joy — one which she blushingly announced 
 to her husband, who received the intelli- 
 gence with an unfeigned delight that had 
 its counterpart in her own breast. Their 
 wishes were soon to be consummated; she 
 felt that she would ere long become — a 
 mother !
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 197 
 
 Edward Tyrell's joy knew no bounds. 
 He rode that day as he had never ridden 
 before ; fences, double ditches, embankments, 
 aU vanished before his delighted view. His 
 horse seemed to sympathize in his joyous- 
 ness, and brought him in first at the death. 
 He carried home the brush with a look of 
 triumph, and smiled at his companions, 
 shook the farmer's hands, and threw shillings 
 to the " cads" with a cordiality that excited 
 the curiosity of his brother sportsmen. 
 
 From th^ day, he redoubled his attentions 
 to his wife. Every trivial wish she expressed 
 was gratified without regard to trouble or 
 expense ; he conceived it to be highly 
 dangerous to thwart her slightest wish ; 
 if she complained of cold, he was convinced 
 that she was going into a consumption ; 
 if she found the room too warm, he 
 foresaw an array of fevers ready to attack
 
 198 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 her. He was unremitting in his attentions, 
 and it was with difficulty that she could 
 persuade him to join his friends in the 
 hunting-field. 
 
 "Dear Edward, you will make yourself 
 ill if you remain so much at home, and 
 take no exercise. I must insist on your 
 going out to-day with the hounds ; a little 
 air will do you good ; and if you should suffer 
 from so much staying at home, who will take 
 care of me ?" 
 
 "/ am perfectly well, and not delicate," 
 replied Tyrell ; " do not be alarmed about 
 me." 
 
 " I insist on your hunting to-day, dear 
 Edward. I cannot allow you to deprive 
 yourself unnecessarily of yoiu* only amuse- 
 ment ; and, moreover, I shall require you 
 to go to the hunt-ball to-night." 
 
 " No, no, that I will not do ; what ! go
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 199 
 
 and dance when you may be suffering and 
 want me ! indeed, Edith, I cannot do 
 this." 
 
 "If you are very good, and go out this 
 morning, and stay away a long, long time, 
 I may perhaps let you off the ball," repHed 
 she, smiling ; " but, to gain so great an 
 indulgence, you must deserve it by a good 
 run, and an early start; so go and put on 
 your red coat, et cetera, and come and give 
 me another kiss before you go." 
 
 Tyrell comphed with her request, and 
 mounted his best hunter. It was a fine 
 hunting-day. The wind blew softly from 
 the south, the air was mild, the sky cloudy, 
 and the weather seemed determined to 
 
 favour the great " show-day" of the D 
 
 hounds. 
 
 The meet was on the lawn of Goodmington 
 Hall, where, twice during the season, the
 
 200 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 noble owner of this magnificent estate 
 assembled all the members of his hunt. 
 
 It was, in truth, a beautiful sight. The 
 gates of the park were thrown open, and 
 sportsmen of every grade entered them with 
 the conviction that all would alike meet a 
 friendly greeting from the Duke of Delford 
 - — one of those noblemen who well knew 
 how to maintain the dignity of an English 
 Peerage, and who felt that affability to all, 
 and the consequent attachment of every 
 class, was a surer and nobler method .of 
 maintaining his high position, than an 
 assumption of proud dominion, to which 
 some will cringe, but none will readily 
 bow. 
 
 An endless string of horsemen poured up 
 the long avenue leading to the Hall ; from 
 the privileged few who were entitled to wear 
 the green coat, white facing, and D. H.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 201 
 
 button, to the jolly farmer in high-lows and 
 smock-frock, jogging along at the rough 
 trot of a shaggy pony. The hounds were 
 brought out in the front of the house, and 
 soon the Duke appeared at the gate, and 
 mounted his horse. He rode quickly round 
 the immense lawn, through the multitude 
 of his brother Nimrods, for he held that 
 all are alike equal in the hunting-field, and 
 found an apt word to address to each. The 
 respectful bow, and the look of gratification 
 on the faces of all to whom he spoke, showed 
 the feeUngs entertained towards him; and 
 as he moved off" first towards the cover, 
 followed by his huntsmen and the hounds, a 
 spontaneous cheer burst forth from the 
 assembled crowd. 
 
 He rode on a short distance, and was met 
 by Edward Tyrell, who advanced towards 
 the party, bowing to the Duke, 
 
 K 3
 
 202 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " Good morning to you, Mr. Tyrell ," said 
 the latter, " I had hoped to see you at break- 
 fast this morning." 
 
 " I was detained, your Grace," replied 
 Edward. " My wife is rather delicate just 
 now, and — " 
 
 " Well, well, you need excuse yourself no 
 further; you are bound to attend to her 
 before any one else," replied the Duke, good- 
 humouredly. " You may not aU be aware," 
 continued he, addressing those who rode be- 
 side him, " that our friend Tyrell expects 
 daily to be promoted to the dignity of a 
 respectable patriarch ? What shall we do 
 to celebrate the birth of an heir to the house 
 of Tyrell ? Well, we must think of it :— 
 but I shall certainly insist upon your wearing 
 the Delford hunt coat, when you first appear 
 in the field, in the new character of the 
 father of a family,"
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 203 
 
 Edward was delighted. To be admitted a 
 member of the Delford Hunt was an honour 
 to which he had long aspired, though he had 
 never chosen to ask for the distinction ; and 
 he now saw himself in a happy day-dream of 
 the future, dressed in the green coat, with its 
 smart white silk facings, and the bright green 
 cravat, giving a parting hug to a huge, chubby 
 boy, whose tiny hand grasped one of his 
 bright brass buttons, whereon might be read 
 in well-raised letters the mystic cypher D. H. 
 
 They soon reached the cover side, and as 
 they stood waiting while the hounds drew it, 
 many a red and green coated sportsman came 
 and congratulated Tyrell on two events so 
 propitious to his wishes. He was in high 
 good-humour, and thought how fortunate it 
 was that Edith had compelled him to go out. 
 She was always right. He would always do 
 what she told him.
 
 204 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! Yes, by Jove ! the fox has 
 gone away on the far side ! They are in full 
 cry ! Away ! away ! He sets off at full 
 gallop across the field, skirting the cover. 
 He is determined to ride hard that day, and 
 earn the coat which he soon will wear. 
 Away ! away 1 he quickly overtakes the 
 hounds ! See ! he has got a good place, 
 and watch how bravely he keeps it. Well 
 done, indeed ! over that rasping fence, mark 
 the tearing pace across the heavy ploughed 
 field ; but he feels no fatigue. Away ! 
 away ! the music of the hounds is music 
 . indeed to his ear ! Now for the brook. 
 See, his horse refuses ! He turns. At 
 him again. Glorious indeed ! Well done, 
 horse and rider ! Away, away ! over the 
 grass field, and down that steep hill, 
 which now conceals them from our view 1
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 205 
 
 Meanwhile Edith Tyrell sits at home, and 
 passes the hours of her husband's absence 
 in reading, and in the soothing delights of 
 music. She had a sweet, plaintive voice, and 
 sung ballads and simple airs with a delicacy 
 and taste, which charm the ear more than 
 the finest bravura singing. 
 
 Wonderful flights of vocalisation may 
 indeed surprise and astound the hearer ; and 
 anything that surprises and astounds, will 
 please — for a time ; but after a while the 
 surprise ceases, and the pleasure vanishes ; 
 but the charm of pure melody, rendered 
 with expression, increases on every hearing, 
 and will never cease to charm while the voice 
 remains. Young ladies 1 young ladies ! did 
 you but know how many more hearts you 
 w^ould win by perfecting yourselves in this 
 style, than by attempting feats which you 
 never can perform, you would send away
 
 206 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Signor Scricini, putting aside " Casta Diva,'* 
 and " Di tanti palpiti," and strive to attain 
 an unaffected manner of singing with feeling 
 such airs as are within your power. Of 
 course this can only be done by those who 
 are gifted with a love of the divine art, 
 and an inborn taste ; all others commit a 
 sacrilege in opening a piano, or desecrating 
 the composition of a true musician. 
 
 And what a truly heavenly gift is that 
 warm love — that thrilling admiration of 
 music — the purest, the chastest of all the 
 Muses ! There are moments when the 
 painter's pencil will not be enforced to its 
 task ; when the poet's pen refuses its office ; 
 when the sciilptor's hand, enfeebled by 
 fatigue or relaxed by illness, cannot be 
 brought to its then uncongenial labour ; but 
 sweet sounds pour a healing balm on the 
 wouiids of the spirit, refresh the wearied
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 207 
 
 body, and fall like " dew from heaven " upon 
 the burning brow of the sufferer ! Many a 
 lover of the art has been accused of heart- 
 lessness, because he repairs to his instrument 
 soon after a bereavement, or other calamity. 
 The "profanum vulgus" little know what 
 passes between him and his loved muse at 
 that moment ! How, through the interpre- 
 tation of his favourite instrument, he confides 
 to her his heartfelt grief — his bitter sorrows ! 
 How she, through the same channel, conveys 
 to him the consolation, the soothing peace of 
 mind, which empty condolence fails, O, how 
 utterly ! to afford. 
 
 Edith sat musing before her piano, striking 
 sometimes a full, rich chord, which reminded 
 her of all the blessings she enjoyed, and the 
 many causes she had for gratitude to heaven.
 
 208 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 One finger insensibly moves, and lo ! the 
 chord is a minor one, and recalls scenes of 
 sorrow and past anxieties. Her mother's 
 death — her father's last moments. 
 
 She rose, and now first perceived that it 
 was growing dark. On consulting the clock 
 she found that it was past six. Edward 
 always came home before this hour, and she 
 began to feel an inward anxiety at his 
 unusually lengthened absence. She was 
 however glad to think that he had enjoyed 
 a good long day's sport, and reflected, that as 
 there had been a lawn meet, they had very 
 probably commenced hunting at a later hour 
 than was customary. 
 
 She rang for candles, and began to read. 
 But she profited little by her studies ; for 
 every minute her eyes wandered from the 
 book to the clock. It had just struck seven ! 
 She became really alarmed, and paced the
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 209 
 
 room with anxious impatience. Eight 
 o'clock ! and no signs of Edward ! 
 
 She put on a shawl and walked into the 
 garden to catch the earUest sign of his 
 approach. The night air was chill and 
 bleak, and soon compelled her to return 
 within doors. The anxiety grew fearful. 
 She went again to the house-door, and lent 
 an anxious ear. No sound — all is still ! yet 
 hark ! — a sound is heard at last. Strange ! 
 — it is not a horse's tread — it is a human 
 footstep — but how heavy. It must be the 
 sound of many footsteps ! Edith felt a 
 thrill of terror. They approach. She presses 
 her hand on her heart to quell its beatings, 
 which prevent her from hearing distinctly 
 these ominous noises. They come nearer 
 and nearer, and presently turn a corner where 
 they meet her view. First a man with a 
 lantern ; then a huge, undistinguishable mass,
 
 SIO TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 and a heavy, measured sound of footsteps. 
 Edith terrified, rushes forward to question 
 them. 
 
 ** Good heavens !" exclaimed she. " What 
 is the matter ? Where is my husband ?" 
 
 "O Ma'am," said the man with the lantern, 
 is it you? O dear, O dear, to think that 
 you should learn the news without it's being 
 broke careful to you. O ! Mrs. Tyrrell, 
 don't give way ; bear up. Ma'am, bear up." 
 
 Edith heard not his admonitions. She 
 snatched the light from his hand, and turned 
 it upon the group that followed. 
 
 Oh, woeful sight ! Oh, hour of anguish ! 
 Four men bore on their shoulders the appa- 
 rently lifeless form of her husband ! She 
 felt her limbs tremble under her, and clutched 
 the arm of the lantern-bearer for support. 
 The good-hearted man raised her in his arms, 
 and carried her to the house. She did not
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 211 
 
 utter a sound, but suffered herself to be 
 borne into the room, where lately she had sat 
 so happy, and there lay motionless on the 
 sofa. Her servants hastened to her, but no 
 remedies within the reach of their skill could 
 succeed in restoring her to consciousness. 
 The groom was sent off in haste for a doctor, 
 and the unhappy servants knew not how to 
 attend at once to their master, who lay above 
 raving in wild delirium, and to their mis- 
 tress who remained inanimate, and as one 
 petrified, on the couch below. 
 
 Poor TyreU ! He had fallen in his ardour 
 into a deep pit concealed by a fence. He 
 thought he knew the country well, and had 
 made a little digression from the line of his 
 comrades. He put his horse boldly at the 
 fence ; the last he was ever to take, and fell 
 headlong into a newly- dug pit on the other 
 side. He lay there some hours, and only
 
 212 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 towards evening had he been discovered by 
 some labourers who chanced to pass that way. 
 They recognized him, and raising him in 
 their arms, carried him home, a distance of 
 four or five miles. He had fallen on his 
 head, and received a violent concussion of the 
 brain. The poor horse had broken his back 
 in the fall, and ran round and round the pit, 
 yelling with agony ; his fore legs crossing his 
 hind feeti until he fell heavily on his side — 
 the blood gushed out at his nostrils — and he 
 died in long and protracted agonies. 
 
 At length the doctor arrived. He attended 
 first to the wretched man, of whose life he 
 could entertain no hope. He sat up in the 
 bed raving and gnashing his teeth, his eyes 
 starting irom their orbits. Oh ghastly, ghastly
 
 TWO GENERA.TIONS. 213 
 
 sight ! The doctor ordered ice to be ap- 
 plied to the brain ; but he saw at once that 
 one blessing only was to be prayed for, and 
 that was, a release from his agony by speedy 
 death. 
 
 He next directed his anxious attention to 
 Edith, who still lay in the same place, with 
 the same glazed look of fixity, the same 
 rigidity of body. The shock had been so 
 sudden and so fearful that he feared her 
 reason might be affected. He desired the 
 servants to leave him, and sat quietly by her, 
 watching her slightest movement. The silence 
 was only broken by occasional stamping in 
 the room above, for Edward had overcome all 
 resistance, and sprung from his bed, and was 
 tearing violently about the room. Suddenly
 
 214 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 a tremor passed over Edith's frame, the 
 colour rushed to her cheek ; she raised her 
 hand to her head, as if to collect her thoughts 
 — then a piercing shriek, and a convulsion — 
 then a second. 
 
 The doctor called the servants. 
 
 " Carry her up-stairs : undress her, and 
 put her to bed immediately — she is in 
 the greatest danger — one false step may 
 cause the death both of herself and her 
 child." 
 
 He saw what had happened ! The fearful 
 shock had hastened the period of her con- 
 finement, which might now take place at 
 any moment. He had scarcely time to 
 rush upstairs ere his anticipations were 
 realized.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 215 
 
 Oh ! night of sorrow ! Ill-fated child ! 
 Thy mother lies senseless on the bed from 
 which she never shall rise again ! Thy father's 
 last breath gave forth a fearfiil oath. In wild 
 delirium he cursed every thing that opposed 
 him. He had sprung once more from his 
 bed, and his strength failing him, had uttered 
 one loud groan — and fallen lifeless on the 
 floor! Child of fond hopes, offspring of 
 misery, ushered into the world at this dread 
 hour, thou never canst know a mother's care, 
 thou never canst receive a father's fond 
 embrace. Sweet infant, all is taken from thee 
 at once, thy little cry is raised in vain ! no 
 mother's breast can soothe thy childish wants ! 
 Lone and abandoned one, cease that feeble 
 wail — ' He that feedeth the ravens, shall 
 hear thee, and take compassion on thy help- 
 lessness.' Wretched as thou art now, some 
 bright days may yet be in store for thee!
 
 216 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Poor orphan, cry no more ; but strive to 
 forget thy sorrows in sweet sleep, and lie 
 tranquil, beside thy blessed, — thy sainted 
 mother !
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 217 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 *' . . . EUe a constamment ouvert devant les yeux 
 Le livre le plus pur et le plus gracieux 
 Que poete ait jamais tire de sa cervelle . . . 
 Un enfant rose et blanc qui grandit autour d'elle !" 
 AUGiER. Gabrielle. 
 
 SKarg arete. — 5^ )!jCitit mit bem ^inb tco^l metne 
 
 2)od) uberna()m id^ gem nod^ ctnmal atte 5^Iage 
 (So IkV njar ntir bag ,^inb. 
 iJaufl.— (gin ^ngel trenn'S bir gtid)! 
 
 2^argarete.— 5c^ ^og e3 auf, unb lEjer^Iic^ lieBt' eS 
 mic^. 
 
 fyauji. 
 
 The doors of tne parish church of Bray- 
 ford — the village near the late residence of 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Edward and Edith Tyrell — are opened. A 
 sad and mournful procession may be seen 
 passing slowly up the aisle. The clergyman 
 waits at the font. The baptismal service, 
 that rite which inspires a soft gladness^ a 
 gentle anxiety, is now read to a company 
 which woTild seem to have escorted a fellow- 
 creature to the grave, rather than to that 
 joyous ceremony, wherein the tender infant 
 is " received into the ark of Christ's church." 
 The hope-breathing words shed no gladness 
 in the hearts of those who now surround 
 the font ; and the responses are uttered in 
 faltering tones — 
 " Name this child." 
 
 Alow whisper shapes the word, " Edith." 
 The service is concluded ; Florence receives 
 the infant from the arms of the clergy- 
 man, and, accompanied by Henry, heads
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 219 
 
 the procession as it departs in mournful 
 silence. 
 
 On a little tablet near the porch may be 
 read these words : 
 
 HERE LIE, 
 
 UNITED IN DEATH, AS IN LIFE, 
 THE REMAINS OF 
 
 EDWARD AND EDITH TYRELL. 
 
 DEATH DID NOT PART THEM. 
 
 THEY CONCLUDED THEIR EARTHLY PILGRIMAGE 
 
 ON THE SAME NIGHT, 
 
 AND NOW REST IN PEACE, 
 
 IN THE HOPE OF A JOYFUL 
 
 RESURRECTION. 
 
 Florence lifted her eyes to the stone which 
 marked the resting place of her dear, her only 
 sister, and a tear rolled from her cheek on to 
 the face of the infant she bore in her arms. 
 She had obtained permission from Henry to 
 adopt the child of her sister, the only natural 
 
 L 2
 
 220 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 relation that now remained to her. Father, 
 mother, sister — all were gone, and this feeble 
 and sickly infant must now replace all those 
 who had been dear to her. She entered the 
 carriage, still bearing her precious charge, 
 and was followed by Henry. They returned 
 home without delay. 
 
 Mrs. St. Meurice had taken upon herself 
 no Hght responsibility in adopting her orphan 
 niece. Little Edith was very delicate; for 
 some days after her birth, the doctors had 
 scarcely expected her to live, and although they 
 had now declared the child to be quite out of 
 danger, they recommended the greatest cau- 
 tion and the most unremitting attention ; and 
 felt inwardly convinced — though they did not 
 say so to Florence — that it could never be 
 reared, and that it must fall a victim to the 
 first ailment that might attack it.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 221 
 
 Contrary to their expectations, however, the 
 child grew daily stronger and healthier, and, 
 if it cost Florence many an hour of watching 
 many a night of anxious sleeplessness, she 
 was more than repaid for her exertions, by 
 seeing her little charge prosper and flourish 
 under her fostering care. Edith was a con- 
 stant source of dehght to her aunt; every 
 motion of her tiny hand, every smile on her 
 pale face was noted and proclaimed as won- 
 derful and angelic, and Henry was called 
 twenty times a day to admire the feats of this 
 baby — feats which, of course, no other baby 
 had ever performed before. Henry always 
 declared he could see no beauty in the 
 little creature, and that he believed it to be 
 remarkably like every other baby in the 
 world. 
 
 But in course of time the child passed
 
 222 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 the period of its " puttyism," as Henry termed 
 it, and attained that engaging age, when a 
 child first becomes interesting and companion- - 
 able. Its lips could just fashion the shadows of 
 pretty words, and it would incline its fair head 
 to one side, and turning its pale and engaging 
 face up to Henry, of whom it became very 
 fond, fix its large blue eyes on his, and say 
 " uckle" with such a dear, seraphic smile, 
 that Henry woiild raise it to his face, which 
 two fabulously small hands would pat and 
 pinch with such a merry peal of childish 
 laughter, Henry and Florence both grew 
 deeply attached to little Edith, and her pre- 
 sence filled what else would have been a 
 melancholy void, for they had no children of 
 their own. 
 
 Henry had long joined his regiment, and 
 was an universal favourite among his brother
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 223 
 
 officers. By no one can a man's character 
 be so truly and fairly judged, as by his com- 
 rades in a regiment. He appears there before 
 a tribunal, composed of judges of every age, 
 character, and disposition. They are im- 
 partial, though severe, and if an unanimous 
 verdict be given in his favour, depend on it, 
 their judgment has not erred — that man is 
 worthy their good opinion. 
 
 On entering a school he appears before a 
 parcel of boys whose judgment is not formed, 
 and who are therefore more prone to ridicule 
 than to approve ; his own character is still in 
 the mould, and may yet be shaped and re- 
 fashioned ; but when he joins a regiment, he is 
 judged by men of every age, from the super- 
 annuated colonel to the new-fledged ensign, 
 who is yet in process of initiation into the 
 mysteries of the goose-step. The heat of
 
 224 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 youthful judgment is counterbalanced by the 
 mature experience of age ; and the close 
 intimacy into which he is thrown with his 
 brother officers, enables them to see him in 
 every light, and appreciate his merits, while 
 they clearly perceive his failings. 
 
 Never was verdict more unanimous than 
 that passed upon Henry St. Meurice by the 
 officers of the — th. He was voted a gen- 
 tlemanly, amiable, open-hearted, and, above 
 all, jolly fellow ; one whose intimacy each 
 sought to gain. Not that he could afford to 
 make any display, or follow the habits of 
 extravagance prevalent among some of the 
 junior officers, but his cheerfulness, generosity, 
 and pleasing address, won for him all hearts, 
 even that of old Sir John Martinet, full 
 colonel of the — th light dragoons. 
 
 Florence was no less a favourite among her
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 225 
 
 husband's friends, and thought it right to use 
 all her exertions to gain popularity in the re- 
 giment. She would listen patiently to old 
 Lady Martinet's fearful denunciations against 
 sinners, read to her long chapters of the 
 '* Christian Exterminator," from the able pen 
 of the truly pious Silas Scurgem, and carry 
 home bundles of tracts, and, moreover, read 
 them, at least so far as to be able to undergo 
 creditably the searching examination she was 
 sure to meet on the occasion of her next 
 visit. 
 
 Do not accuse her of hypocrisy. Though 
 she was too sincerely religious not to feel that 
 charity is the first virtue that Christians 
 should possess, and though she saw that she 
 could not wrest the poor old lady from the 
 grasp of the canting " shepherd," who held 
 his " exterminating" thunderbolts in ter- 
 
 L 3
 
 226 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 rorem over her head, yet she did not consider 
 their difference of views upon such subjects a 
 sufficient cause for neglecting the cultivation 
 of an acquaintance that might be of great 
 service to her husband. 
 
 She could not but lament the thraldom in 
 which the well-disposed woman suffered her- 
 self to be held ; and had she dared to speak, 
 none could better have shown the good lady 
 how mistaken were her views in these matters ; 
 how far from the true spirit of pure rehgion 
 was this priestcraft; how widely removed 
 from charity and meekness are these intole- 
 rant precepts, how far from the example of 
 the Apostles are these puffed-up and arrogant 
 perverters of the truth, who would fain keep 
 from us the sweet " quality of mercy" that 
 
 '* . . .is not strain' d ;" 
 that
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 227 
 
 " Droppeth, as the gentle rain from Heaven, 
 Upon the place beneath,*' 
 
 who would substitute for the sweet words 
 of consolation with which our faith breathes, 
 denunciations of vengeance on all who do 
 not follow their doctrines. Proud Phari- 
 sees, who "thank God that they are not 
 as other men," but who only differ from 
 them in that they are sleek, foul-mouthed 
 hypocrites, who dare to enjoin us " not to 
 take the name of the Lord in vain;" and 
 who defile, not only his sacred name, but the 
 blessed truths which he has given forth, by 
 perverting them to their own vile uses, 
 that they may gain a base ascendancy 
 over weak-minded women and foolish old 
 age! 
 
 Florence was no less a favourite with 
 Mrs. Major Hector Smith, the wife of the
 
 228 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 senior Major of the regiment. This was 
 a wonderful achievement ; for none of the 
 regimental ladies had been able to endure 
 the good woman's unceasing fidgets. She 
 was always wondering. She wondered 
 whether the door was shut — whether the 
 snarly, wheezy old poodle had had his 
 dinner — whether the servant was in, or 
 gossiping, " as she always is mth Mrs. 
 Colonel Storm's footman" — she wondered 
 whether it would be fine — what o'clock it 
 was — when Major Hector Smith would 
 come home — why he had not returned 
 long ago, &c., &c. She would interrupt 
 Florence's best attempts at conversation 
 with: 
 
 *'Do, my dear Mrs. St. Meurice, ring 
 the bell ; I must know at what time Hector 
 has ordered dinner. I wonder whether he
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 229 
 
 ordered it at all — he said he would, but I 
 dare say he hasn't done so. O dear !" 
 
 The servant came, and, of course, it was 
 found that the Major had given all the 
 necessary orders. He was a most punc- 
 tilious man, and far too much afraid of the 
 consequences of neglect, not to obey with 
 military precision all the numerous injunc- 
 tions of his wife. 
 
 So poor Florence did not meet a kindred 
 spirit in the society with which she was 
 forced to mix, but she found her conso- 
 lation in the devotion of her husband, 
 whose affection increased as he became 
 better acquainted with her amiable disposi- 
 tion, and in the society of the endearing 
 child, whom she looked upon as her own. 
 And a sweet child it was ! How lovely 
 it looks, dressed in its smart white frock
 
 230 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 and . huge red sash, trying to encircle 
 Florence's neck with its tiny arms. And 
 what a lovely picture they would form 
 thus, Florence bending her gracefully-shaped 
 head to kiss the child's soft little shoulder. 
 What a subject for a painter ! No wonder 
 Henry leans against the mantel-shelf with 
 his arms under his coat tails, and looks so 
 complacently at the group before him.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 231 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ** O, lovely source 
 Of generous foibles, youth ! when op'ning minds 
 Are honest as the hght, lucid as air. 
 As fost'ring breezes kind, as linnets gay, 
 Tender as buds, and lavish as the spring ! 
 Yet hapless state of man ! His earliest youth 
 Cozens itself; his age defrauds mankind." 
 
 SHENSTONE. 
 
 " Ses discours, 11 est vrai, fatiguent les oreilles ; 
 Mais . . . son cuisinier fait merveilles !" 
 
 ACEILLY. 
 
 About this time a great stir was being 
 made at Bewleigh Hall, and in its immediate
 
 232 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 neighbourhood. Upholsterers, let loose in 
 its vast apartments, were ruthlessly condemn- 
 ing all the fine old furniture which had 
 remained unmoved for ages, that they might 
 fill their places with highly polished rosewood 
 monuments of bad taste. For it has been 
 the custom within the last twenty years to 
 convert English rooms, not with habitable 
 resorts of comfort, but into mere receptacles 
 for the hugest pieces of furniture that they 
 can be made to contain ; unwieldy masses 
 which look as if they must rot where they, 
 were first placed ; the principal interest being 
 to consider whether they were installed before 
 the walls of the room were built, since it 
 appears inconceivable that they should ever 
 have entered by the door. 
 
 This style of furniture, the rage for which 
 is now fortunately on the wane, gave English
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 233 
 
 rooms an air of stately discomfort that 
 chilled you from the moment of entrance; 
 and, indeed, who can converse agreeably 
 when seated on a hard settee that goes off 
 into perspective along the whole side of the 
 room, far from the fire, and quite out of the 
 reach of its welcome rays ? Your companion 
 endeavoui's to draw his ponderous arm chair 
 towards you, but it has no castors, and will 
 not roll over the Turkey carpet. How 
 different this from the Parisian coin du feu : 
 the well-stuffed chair fitting into all the 
 crevices of your back, your feet upon the 
 fender, and the warmth creeping insensibly to 
 your brain, till all your ideas thaw, and the 
 charming causerie becomes animated, and 
 you feel as if no persuasion could ever induce 
 you to leave your comfortable position. 
 
 Such were the edifices which Messrs.
 
 234 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Grainham and Maply were erecting in the 
 reception rooms of Bewleigh Hall. Even 
 poor old Lady Bewleigh's oak chair was not 
 respected, but taken with the rest of the 
 furniture at a valuation. The poor old lady 
 had long since vacated it; and now lay 
 interred in the family vault in the parish 
 church. 
 
 The villagers were no less busy. Arches 
 of evergreens were building at the entrance 
 to the park, and in the principal street of the 
 village. On these might be read such 
 inscriptions as " Welcome home ;" " Long 
 life to the happy pair;" and the like. At 
 last all these preparations are completed, and 
 early in the morning of a bright summer's 
 day, the church bells send forth a merry peal ; 
 the villagers in their Sunday dress line the 
 High Street, and presently a carriage is seen
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 235 
 
 approaching at the sharp trot of four grey 
 posters. On arriving at the entrance of the 
 village, they reduce their pace to a walk, and 
 Lord Bewleigh and his newly-married bride 
 bow to the assembled multitude from the 
 dark blue barouche. 
 
 His appearance has not undergone much 
 change since last we saw him. He has 
 perhaps lost a little of his high colouring, 
 but his hair is not less black and silky, his 
 eye not less piercing and brilliant, his figure 
 not less erect and manly, than when he left 
 England for his foreign tour four years 
 before. 
 
 Lady Bewleigh sits beside him, and 
 haughtily inclines her head in acknowledge- 
 ment of the cheers of her husband's tenants 
 and dependants. She is certainly seen to 
 advantage as she appears in the carriage.
 
 236 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 The sitting posture conceals in a great 
 degree the principal defect in her beauty — 
 an over-abundance of embonpoint. Her 
 face is decidedly handsome, though rather 
 large and round. Her complexion is 
 brilliantly fair, and her glossy flaxen tresses 
 wave gracefully on her beautifully white 
 forehead. Her eye is blue, but meaningless, 
 and is much spoilt by the extreme lightness 
 of her eyebrows, which renders them scarcely 
 distinguishable. Her countenance wears at 
 once an expression of superciliousness and 
 vacancy, which is far from prepossessing, 
 and there is a haughty curve in her lip, and 
 a displeasing carriage of the head, which 
 give at once an insight into her character. 
 
 The barouche having entered the gates 
 of the park, the horses resume their speed, 
 and soon reach the house, where they are
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 237 
 
 met by all the domestics, not excepting poor 
 Yorick, now very aged and decrepit, and yet 
 able to welcome his master by licking his 
 hand, and rubbing his faithful old head 
 against Reginald's leg. 
 
 Let us leave the young Lady Bewleigh 
 to take possession of her new home, while 
 we describe the circumstances under which 
 she became its mistress. 
 
 The story is unromantic and common- 
 place. The desire for a good match on 
 the part of her parents, and the wish to 
 form a high connection on the part of Lord 
 Bewleigh, thjpse had been the mainsprings 
 of the machinery which had brought about 
 this alliance. Although himself of high 
 descent, Reginald had much of the pride 
 of birth, and in marrying he sought to exalt 
 himself by becoming allied to a family still
 
 238 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 nobler than his own. The idea of preference 
 for one woman over another never entered 
 his head. Love comes but once in a Hfe- 
 time, and his turn had already come ; for he 
 had really loved Valerie — at least, so far as 
 a heart formed as was his, can contain or 
 comprehend such a sentiment. 
 
 He, therefore, on his return to London, 
 sought to marry, that his pride might be 
 gratified by adding another quartering to his 
 arms, provided that quartering were of such 
 a high order as to compensate for the 
 sacrifice he was making. 
 
 His choice fell upon Lady Bfuphrosyne de 
 Vere, only daughter of the Marquis of Ray- 
 hampton ; a young lady of great accomplish- 
 ments and some pretensions to beauty. She 
 had been going the gay round of many Lon- 
 don seasons, and had not yet met the man
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 239 
 
 who would take unto himself so imposing a 
 specimen of female aristocracy. Men have 
 an instinctive dread of ladies of " superior 
 attainments," unless indeed they are already 
 married. In the latter case, they like to enjoy 
 just as much of their society as they think 
 pleasant, but they would be very sorry to 
 be always in their company. Now, Lady 
 Euphrosyne was precisely one of those whom 
 men cannot abide, of " superior attain- 
 ments," and single. Her talents were much 
 vaunted, though they had never produced 
 any noticeable result, except a novel, which 
 had long been talked of beforehand, since 
 she kept the secret of her intended author- 
 ship so well, as to let every one know it. 
 
 " Every one" was however woefully dis- 
 appointed ; and though " The Modern 
 Sappho" was perseveringly advertised as " one
 
 240 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 of the most attractive books of the present 
 season," it did not prove so, and no wonder, 
 for it was a jumble of inextricable confusion. 
 Everybody was everybody else's father and 
 mother ; and everybody that oughtn't to 
 have done so, fell in love with somebody who 
 shouldn't have accepted him ; and everybody 
 thought everybody else to be anybody but 
 what he was. However with the dry mbbish 
 of this silly nonsense, she built for herself an 
 author's pedestal, and stood upon it, to the 
 great awe of the young men, who infinitely 
 preferred waltzing with pretty Miss Frisker, 
 who said she loved dancing better than any- 
 thing, " except riding out with papa to see 
 the hounds meet. O ! that was the most 
 dee-lightful thing in all the world !" 
 
 Bewleigh reflected that this " Modern 
 Sappho" might perhaps suit him as well as
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 241 
 
 any other. Lord Rayhampton was one of 
 the highest Marquesses in the peerage ; and 
 his future son-in-law thought it might per- 
 haps be quite as well that his wife should have 
 some occupation that would engross her, and 
 make her less a bore to him. He calculated 
 that though she would probably have a very 
 small marriage-portion, (since she had two 
 brothers, and the Rayhamptons, like many 
 other of their peers, were more noble than 
 rich), yet his own fortune was such as to 
 require no increase, and he could maintain 
 his dignity without relying on his wife for 
 assistance. So he proposed in due form to 
 the proud Lady Euphrosyne, and was ac- 
 cepted. She was glad to be released from 
 parental thraldom, and to secure a high 
 position in the world; and her father and 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 mother accepted with delight an offer made 
 by such a man as Lord Bewleigh, who re- 
 quired no marriage-portion, and was satisfied 
 to make excellent settlements upon his 
 wife. 
 
 Meanwhile, Bewleigh was leading a reckless 
 life in London. He felt that his liberty must 
 soon be sacrificed, and he determined to make 
 the most of it while yet he retained it. He 
 was destitute of that which palliates all the 
 follies of youth — he was completely devoid of 
 principle. His impulse never was to do 
 right, because it was right ; he was cold and 
 calculating, and only sought to gratify his 
 passions for the sake of so doing ; not from 
 that headlong recklessness and youthful heat 
 which render some of the excesses of the 
 young not only excusable, but even pleasing,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 243 
 
 where a firm conviction is felt that there is 
 at bottom a good and a warm heart, and an 
 innate sense of honour, which will keep the 
 sower of "wild oats" from mixing in his 
 grain aught that is not noble and generous. 
 Bewleigh's prevailing propensity was the most 
 fatal that can seize the mind of any man — 
 that which has ruined more happiness, des- 
 troyed more prospects, than any other to be 
 found in the catalogue of vices, and that is — 
 gambling ! 
 
 Night after night he might be found 
 seated at the hazard-table ; not at Crockford's, 
 nor in the society of gentlemen, but in low 
 gambling houses, in those dens of abomination 
 which are still to be found not a hundred 
 miles from the magnificent house that once 
 was Crockford's. Shame, shame; not only 
 
 M 2
 
 244 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 upon the sharpers who prey at first on youth 
 and inexperience, and next on the victims of 
 that deep-rooted passion which brings the 
 habitue nightly to the foul hiding-places of 
 these blood-suckers — not upon these only, 
 but upon a system of so-called police, 
 which tolerates knowingly this system of 
 plunder. 
 
 Can any one deny that the police know 
 these haunts of iniquity? Will any one 
 venture to assert, that the constables who 
 stand outside L — 's and O — 's do not know 
 what is going on inside those doors ? It is 
 monstrous that some perverted technicalities 
 of law should permit the existence of 
 such sinks of infamy in the centre of 
 London ! 
 
 At first, Bewleigh won largely ; it was
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 245 
 
 remarked that he was a most fortunate player. 
 This awakened in him a novel excitement, of 
 which he was sadly in want. He had ever 
 been precocious, and never truly youthful 
 in spirit. The amusements of the town bored 
 him. He had travelled, and seen distant 
 countries, but he declared, with Sir Charles 
 Coldstream, that there was " nothing in 
 them ;" he was apathetic in the extreme to the 
 sublime in art, though, as we have seen, an 
 excellent actor in these matters ; and he was 
 gifted with talents which he could exert when 
 it suited his purpose, but which he never 
 cultivated for his own gratification. O, how 
 ill are talents bestowed on such a nature as 
 this ! How different from the feeling of the 
 true artist ! That man cultivates the gifts of
 
 246 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Nature for display ; the true artist cultivates 
 them, before aU, for his own gratification ; 
 that he may feel that inward, indescribable, 
 yet thrilling delight afforded him by his own 
 performance. One half of his nature becomes 
 the companion and the critic of the other. 
 The one half acts, and calls in the other to 
 judge of what he has done ; and certain it is 
 that if those two halves when united do form 
 a man of true genius, one will prove the best 
 judge that the other can consult ; and he will 
 attain the habit of relying so entirely upon 
 this excellent judgment, that he will be satis- 
 fied with it, and depend more upon its 
 appreciation, than upon an army of critics. 
 Should the world disparage or condemn, he 
 will always remain of the same opinion, he
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 247 
 
 is no time-server, to be influenced by causes 
 foreign to the immediate subject: his judgment 
 continues firm and unalterable, and will whis- 
 per his word of consolatory approval when 
 an unenhghtened and prejudiced public seek 
 to wound the artist's soul with cold neglect 
 or words of bitter irony. 
 
 Such inward delights were unknown to 
 Lord Bewleigh ; his mental inactivity was 
 too great to permit of his experiencing 
 pleasure from anything that required appli- 
 cation or culture ; even his vanity, great as 
 it was, did not prompt him to improve 
 talents that might have won for him what 
 most gratified him, when it could be had 
 without trouble — admiration. Some violent 
 excitement alone could rouse him from his
 
 248 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 lethargy; and, when this excitement was 
 created, he pursued his object with a vigour 
 and determination that increased with the 
 difficulties he found in his path. 
 
 This excitement he found in his new pur- 
 suit ; and after a ball where he had gone, in 
 conformity to custom, to meet his intended 
 bride, he would rush to the gaming-table, 
 and become lost in the absorbing interest of 
 the cards and the dice-box. 
 
 His good luck did not last long. The 
 hell-keeper knew exactly the moment when 
 he had him so fast in his meshes, that he 
 could afford to turn his fortune. The excite- 
 ment of losing became greater even than 
 that of gaining, and he sank deeper and deeper 
 until he had considerably impaired his for-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 249 
 
 tune, and had been obliged to make many a 
 slice in his estates. 
 
 Fortunately, the moment fixed for his 
 marriage came, and put an end to his 
 ruinous excesses; and, after having passed 
 all the previous night in a low hell, and lost 
 the largest stake he had yet hazarded, he 
 rushed home, changed his dress, and hurried 
 off to St. George's, there to meet the fair 
 Lady Euphrosyne ; and he was, with much 
 ceremony, united to her in marriage. 
 
 Then followed all the empty formalities 
 which custom imposes on such occasions, 
 and they posted off, glad to be relieved of 
 all this hollow display, to a villa of Lord 
 Rayhampton's for the honeymoon. 
 
 Thence they proceeded to Bewleigh Hall, 
 where we have had the honour to meet them. 
 
 M 3
 
 250 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " The country starves, and they that feed the over- 
 charged 
 And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues, 
 By a just judgment strip and starve themselves. 
 The wings, that waft our riches out of sight. 
 Grow on the gamester's elbows ; and the alert 
 And nimble motion of those restless joints. 
 That never tire, soon fans them all away. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 Reginald and his newly-married lady did 
 not sojourn long at the family seat. Neither
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 251 
 
 of them was well formed to enjoy the beauties 
 of the summer in the country. He liked it 
 well enough in winter — when he could hunt 
 and shoot — but at the season when such field 
 sports could not be enjoyed, he thought it a 
 bore. Lady Bewleigh, on her part, took little 
 interest in the schools and charitable institu- 
 tions which the late lady had founded ; and 
 though she paid each a formal visit, it was 
 clear that she had done this merely as a duty 
 imposed on her by her new station, and with 
 the full intention, that it should be once for 
 all. 
 
 She had, however, time to make herself 
 very unpopular in the neighbourhood during 
 her short stay. All the families in the 
 vicinity called upon her, and she received 
 them with such stately formality, and some-
 
 252 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 times in such a haughty manner, that she 
 was at once voted proud and disagreeable, and 
 an odious successor to the dear, good old lady, 
 whom all had loved and respected. 
 
 So long as the novelty of being the mistress 
 of so noble a domain lasted, she managed to 
 endure with much philosophy the monotony 
 of country life ; but that soon wore off, and 
 then a growing feeling of ennui crept over 
 her, until she could restrain herself no 
 longer, and one day boldly proposed going 
 to town. 
 
 " Do you not think, Bewleigh, that we 
 should be better there during the season, 
 and you know we might return here in the 
 autumn ?" 
 
 Reginald had long been dying to go back 
 to his green table, for which he felt a craving
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 253 
 
 such as a dram-drinker might experience 
 after taking the pledge. 
 
 '' I see no objection at all," was the reply, 
 " to our going to London now ; and there 
 we can make up a pleasant party to meet 
 us here after the season in town." 
 
 The truth was, they were bored with each 
 other, and hoped in London to find the 
 means of dissipating the ennui which the 
 tete-atete had brought on both of them. 
 
 The matter was decided ; and to London 
 they went. 
 
 There existed no sympathy between them, 
 save on one point — the love of extravagance 
 and display. Their fine house in Portland 
 Place was continually open to receive, not 
 the most agreeable, but the most fashionable 
 people they could gather. This was not
 
 254 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 for the sake of sociality, nor from a love of 
 society; it was simply that their name 
 might be in everybody's mouth, and that 
 columns of the fashionable gazettes might 
 be filled with an awful list of grandees and 
 foreign lions, "who were present at Lady 
 Bewleigh's reunion last night, one of the 
 most elegant and recherche soirees that has 
 taken place in the salons of the elite of the 
 grand monde this season." 
 
 Nor was Lady Bewleigh unmindful of her 
 " modern Sappho"-ism. She resolved to 
 maintain her high (?) place in the literary 
 world by asking a few authors to dinner 
 occasionally. She imagined that she was 
 then "in her sphere," as she called it, and 
 talked rather more nonsense than usual, at 
 which the literary men (fully appreciating —
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 255 
 
 like other men of taste — the talents of Lord 
 Bewleigh's cook, " Monsieur Franchipanne") 
 were pleased to laugh, and tell her that 
 really their profession would soon cease to 
 be a profitable one if many among the higher 
 classes were found as talented as her Ladyship. 
 Lord Bewleigh always excused himself 
 from accompanying his wife to the balls 
 and routs which were her nightly resort. 
 He did not stay at home: what then did 
 he do ? I trow the driver of his vis-a-vis 
 could tell us (were he not of oft-proved 
 discretion,) that his Lordship's favourite 
 haunts were not many in number, and that 
 night after night he receives orders to drive 
 
 to a certain small house in Street, 
 
 where his master alights, and remains for 
 many a long hour.
 
 256 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Reginald ! this vice is gaining an influence 
 over you which you cannot shake off! You 
 are now a slave to that passion, which will 
 hold you in her iron grasp, nor release you 
 until your purse is empty, and you are no 
 longer worthy of being retained ! 
 
 Let us follow him for once into this little 
 door, over which is suspended a solitary lamp. 
 The entrance appears open to all ; but it is 
 not so easy to gain admission as it would 
 seem. There is a second door beyond, well 
 lined with iron, and well guarded with many 
 bolts and bars, which only the privileged 
 few may pass. 
 
 Reginald is well known here, and needs 
 not even give the password, but proceeds at 
 once to the upper floor. The house is con- 
 siderably larger than it appears. A spacious
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 257 
 
 room has been built out at the back, the door 
 of which is at present . open, showing a table 
 well covered with wines, dishes, and all that 
 can make supper tempting. Beside this 
 room is another door of innocent appearance, 
 but really composed of iron, and fastened 
 with a lock, the secret of which lies only with 
 the owner of the establishment and his 
 myrmidons. 
 
 A masonic tap marks the arrival of an 
 hahitue: the door is slightly opened, a face 
 peeps out, to be quite sure all is right, and 
 it closes upon us as we enter invisible behind 
 Bewleigh. He passes along a short comdor, 
 at the end of which stands another door, 
 now opened, but which can instantly be 
 closed on the slightest alarm. He enters a 
 small room, where may be seen a table
 
 258 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 covered with green baize, round which are 
 seated some twelve or fourteen individuals, 
 who are watching intently the fall of the dice. 
 
 *' Happy to see you to-night, my Lord," 
 exclaimed Mr. Youngplain, the owner of the 
 house ; " though indeed I ought not to be so, 
 for your Lordship's good luck and good play 
 are such, that we stand a bad chance of 
 winning your Lordship's money." 
 
 Reginald never could suffer the tone of 
 familiarity which some of the younger 
 habitues allowed this old sinner to adopt, so 
 he scarcely took any notice of him, but seating 
 himself at once before the table, put down his 
 stake. 
 
 It is very curious to observe the counte- 
 nances of the men who sit by him. On the 
 right hand is seen the old and hardened
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 259 
 
 gambler, his hand trembling as he shakes the 
 box, not from excitement concerning the 
 result of his throw — he is long past that ; but 
 from the wear and tear of his nerves during 
 a long series of years spent in this pursuit. 
 Mark the impassibility of his countenance as 
 the dice fall upon the table. The throw is 
 very bad ; see how callously he throws up the 
 large stake. Why does he go there when it 
 affords him no excitement ? Simply for the 
 reason that makes the opium-eater swallow 
 the deadly poison long after it has lost its 
 effect ; merely because, if the act produces 
 little or no pleasure, the absence of it causes 
 intense pain ; because the habit is so con- 
 firmed, that he could as soon exist without 
 food or clothing, as without the excitement of 
 play.
 
 260 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Next to him — fearful contrast ! — sits a 
 very young man ; his hair dishevelled, his 
 coat threadbare. Is it not painful to see the 
 shaking of his hand as he lifts the fatal box ? 
 The stake before him is a small one ; but it 
 is his all ! He cannot summon courage to 
 bring down his hand, and at last box and aU 
 fall together upon the table. Mark his eyes ; 
 see, they threaten to start from their sockets ! 
 He has thrown below the main. His force 
 abandons him ; he gets up from the table, 
 but sinks into an arm-chair, and weeps 
 bitterly. 
 
 But the callous men, who live upon the 
 tears and miseries of their victims, are well 
 used to such scenes. They heed him not, 
 or else offer him a glass of water, saying ; 
 " Never mind, you'll recover presently."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 261 
 
 Recover ! What will he recover ? Will 
 he recover the money of which you have plun- 
 dered him? Will he recover his peace of mind? 
 Will he recover his respectability ? is he not 
 branded as a gambler to the end of his days ? 
 
 A taU young man, who nods to Reginald, 
 fills the vacant place, and begins to play. See 
 how he wins ! See how large the heap of 
 sovereigns grows before him ! See his face 
 of delight as each throw doubles his gain 
 Deluded youth ! See your inevitable fate in 
 one of the miserable examples before you — 
 will you be as this callous wretch beside you, 
 dead to all pleasure, living but for one object, 
 which neither amuses nor excites him; or 
 will you be as this unhappy youth, whose sobs 
 are louder even than the clank of your ill- 
 gotten gold ?
 
 262 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 The throw comes to Lord Bewleigh. 
 Without a sign of agitation he raises the 
 box high in the air, and the dice fall rattling 
 upon the green cloth. Capital throw ! He 
 has doubled his stake, and throws again. 
 Not such luck this time ! 
 
 But let us make our way out as quickly as 
 possible, and quit this painful scene, inhaling a 
 long breath as we regain the fresh air outside. 
 
 Reginald will not so soon remit his labours ; 
 he sits there tempting fortune till the sun is 
 high in the heavens. How reproachfully does 
 the morning glare fall upon the dress which 
 but last night was considered so exquisite ! 
 He cannot endure the splendour of the early 
 sunbeams j his eyes are full of the blinding 
 light of lamps and candles, and he calls a 
 hackney-coach, and desires to be conducted
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 263 
 
 home with a guilty air. Does not the coach- 
 man know that he is driving a reckless 
 gambler ; is it not written on his face that 
 those leeches are enriched with his blood ; 
 and that he has come out of their den poorer 
 by thousands ?
 
 264 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Demea. " O, Jupiter ! 
 
 Hanccine vitam ! hoscine mores ! hanc dementiam ! 
 
 Uxor sine dote veniet, * * * 
 
 Domus sumptuosa, adolescens luxu perditus, 
 
 * * * ipsa si capiat Salus, 
 Servare prorsus non potest hanc familiam !" 
 
 TERENCE. Adelphi. 
 
 " It is a point out of doubt with me, that the ladies 
 are most properly the judges of the men's dress, and 
 the men of that of the ladies." — shenstone. 
 
 A FEW months after this time, the follow- 
 ing paragraph appeared in the " Morning 
 Post" :
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 265 
 
 " We are happy to announce the birth of 
 an infant son and heir to the titles and estates 
 of the noble family of Bewleigh. Her Lady- 
 ship and the child are doing well." 
 
 Reginald received endless congratulations 
 upon this " happy event ;" but he accepte 
 them, not as a young father might be ex- 
 pected to take the compliments addressed to 
 him on such an occasion, but rather with an 
 air of impatience, and an ill-disguised anxiety 
 to avoid the subject. 
 
 Whence the gloom that hangs over him at 
 a moment that should be a happy one ? 
 Why that start when it is amiounced to him 
 that the child is a boy ? Wherefore does he 
 repair so early to the gambling-table, and 
 leave it so late on the night after the infant' 
 birth ? Why that solicitude to conceal this 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 very restlessness, that desire to avoid the 
 gaze of the world, until the novelty of the 
 event be over ? These are questions which 
 he alone can answer, and it is not pro- 
 bable that he will satisfy our curiosity at 
 present. 
 
 The London season was over ; and as 
 soon as Lady Bewleigh was sufficiently 
 recovered, " the family," as the Gazette 
 announced, " left their mansion in Portland 
 Place for Bewleigh Hall, where they intend 
 receiving, during the approaching season, a 
 select circle of the aristocracy." 
 
 And such was indeed their intention. 
 The bare idea of a tete-a-tete had become 
 perfectly insupportable to both parties ; their 
 child — sweet tie between man and wife ! — 
 did not serve to unite them in the least
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 267 
 
 degree. There was certainly no dislike 
 between them, but each saw in the other 
 merely the representation of an end obtained 
 ' — of an object achieved ; and therefore they 
 wisely abstained from any feigned display of 
 affection, and lived on, with different tastes, 
 separate opinions, opposite pursuits, till all 
 feelings merged into total indifference. Lord 
 Bewleigh evidently disliked the child ; but 
 its mother, on the other hand, became 
 warmly attached to it. Her feelings of 
 pride melted into softness before her maternal 
 emotions, and she experienced, for the first 
 time in her life, a sentiment of affection. 
 Her father and mother were quite indifferent 
 to her ; she gave herself the airs of a 
 misunderstood genius, and declared they 
 never comprehended her. She cared very 
 
 N 2
 
 268 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 little, as we know, for her husband ; but 
 no woman is so heartless as not to find 
 some point whereon to fix her natural 
 feelings of love, which is almost an instinct 
 in the gentler sex ; and thus this proud 
 woman's better nature, which had lain 
 dormant for want of an object, was now 
 awakened by the presence of a new tie. 
 
 This sensation was not, however, so en- 
 grossing as to prevent her from devoting all 
 her attention to the gaieties of which 
 Bewleigh Hall was the scene. A party had 
 been collected from among the noblest and 
 richest of London fashionables ; and for two 
 months an unceasing panorama of people 
 going and coming passed before their eyes. 
 They were not lively, nor amusing ; but their 
 presence afforded variety — and variety was
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 269 
 
 here the " summum honum" The great ladies 
 who visited the Bewleighs never thought of 
 exerting themselves to add to the hilarity of 
 the party ; their ideas were all concentrated 
 n one absorbing subject — dress. 
 
 The appearance of a new-shaped hat, of an 
 unprecedented ribbon, was an event of para- 
 mount importance, and created more envy in 
 the hearts of those forestalled in the pos- 
 session of the treasure, than would have been 
 raised by a legacy. 
 
 They were always dressing : they dressed 
 for breakfast, then for going out, then on 
 coming in, again after luncheon, then for 
 riding, then for dinner ; and the only subject 
 of wonderment produced on the mind of the 
 men by these frequent changes of costume, 
 was the immense quantity of luggage which
 
 270 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 each must have brought with her. Women 
 are never more mistaken than when they 
 fancy men appreciate " tous les frais de toi- 
 lette," which are made. A man looks at the 
 ensemble of a lady's dress ; will detect any 
 untidiness, any display of bad taste ; but so 
 long as the appearance of the whole is har- 
 monious and pleasing, he is satisfied to remain 
 in perfect ignorance as to the difference 
 between " Brussels lace" and " English point," 
 and cares not whether the dress that sets off 
 a pretty figure be " chene," or " moire," or 
 " glace ;" or whether it be made of " gros- de- 
 Naples," " barege," or " mousseline-de-laine." 
 There was excellent shooting for those 
 who liked the fun of standing still by the 
 cover side till they were petrified with cold 
 and some excellent hounds in the neighbour-
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 271 
 
 hood, SO that the place did not lack attractions ; 
 and certainly the host and hostess did the 
 honours uncommonly well. 
 
 Monsieur Franchipanne had come down 
 from London with his entire batterie de 
 cuisine, and the tahle was sumptuous and 
 excellent. 
 
 But was not all this extravagance greater 
 than they could afford? If her Ladyship 
 could be induced to look into those uninte- 
 resting books of accounts that lie unopened 
 on her bureau, would she not find that the 
 unromantic rule of addition would show her 
 a total that might well alarm her ? But the 
 " modern Sappho," cannot be expected to 
 keep weekly accounts ; and thus this lavish 
 expenditure goes on, and the addition sums 
 grow longer : — but who examines them ?
 
 272 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 Besides, there are sums expended, which 
 would not be found there : who shall tell the 
 amount of Lord Bewleigh's losses? for he 
 has taken to the turf, as another means of 
 gratifying his passion for gambling. 
 
 Lord Festina whispers to the Honourable 
 Mr. Phastman, as they walk on the terrace, 
 smoking their cigars after breakfast, that : 
 
 '* The Bewleighs — dash it — are going it a 
 considerable pace." 
 
 " Ye — es," drawls his companion ; *' but 
 old Bewleigh's a daiv'lish good fellow, and 
 Lady B's a dem foin woman, and it's all 
 doosid pleasant, so long as it la-asts."
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 273 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 '* Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? 
 What, tho' we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? 
 
 Earth's highest station ends in, 'Here he lies ;' 
 And ' Dust to Dust' concludes her noblest song." 
 YOUNG. The Complaint. 
 
 The even course of time brought but little 
 change into the homes of the various actors 
 in this drama. Of course the brothers never 
 met i the heartless letter which Reginald had 
 addressed to Henry on the occasion of the 
 latter's marriage had put an end to any inter- 
 course between them, and Lady Bewleigh 
 never set eyes on her brother-in-law, nor on his
 
 274 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 wife, nor of course on the child which they 
 had adopted, and which was fast growing 
 into womanhood. 
 
 Cosmo St. Meurice, Lord and Lady Bew- 
 leigh's eldest son, had reached the age when 
 it was considered wise to send him to 
 a public school. This step had been post- 
 poned to a very late period, and it was only 
 when a new member was introduced into 
 the family, in other word when a little 
 girl was born, that Lady Bewleigh could 
 be induced to part with her son. This event 
 occurred when Cosmo was about twelve years 
 old, and his mother was then rather glad to 
 get rid of him, as he insisted on carrying his 
 little sister about the house, and in many 
 similar ways, caused Lady Bewleigh much 
 annoyance.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 275 
 
 He was a fine boy, and bore a striking 
 resemblance to his father. His eye was as 
 brilliant, his hair as black, his colour as 
 bright, as his father's had been when first we 
 saw him ; but age and excitement have left 
 their traces on his face, and marked his brow 
 wdth many a furrow. 
 
 Cosmo had always been his mother's 
 favourite ; and, be it said to her credit, she 
 had shown a good deal of attention to his 
 education. True, her high-flow^n ideas had 
 rather misguided her in the matter, but she 
 had gained the affection of the boy, who had 
 ever met the coldest possible treatment at his 
 father's hands. Had Reginald's wish been 
 fulfilled, Cosmo would have gone to school at 
 the age of six ; but his mother had carried the 
 point after many warm discussions on the
 
 276 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 subject, and it was agreed that he should have 
 a tutor at home. 
 
 Much of the day was passed in the tutor's 
 company. When the family was in town, 
 Cosmo saw little of his parents; when at 
 Bewleigh, he used to pass the afternoon with 
 his mother, at which hour Reginald was sure 
 to be out shooting or hunting with his guests ; 
 and by the time dinner was over, it was time for 
 him to go to bed. So the boy became quite 
 estranged from his father, and the father 
 never evinced the smallest interest in his son ; 
 on the contrary, the boy's presence seemed 
 to cause him irritation and annoyance, and he 
 could not bear to be left alone in the room 
 with him. 
 
 Is it then wonderful, with such lax manage- 
 ment, neglected and avoided by his father,
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 277 
 
 over-indulged by his mother, and living in the 
 midst of scenes of display and extravagance, 
 that he should become a spoilt child ? Encou- 
 raged in all his fancies, and actually supported 
 in all his self-willed faults by his weak mother, 
 can any one be surprised to find him a little 
 tyrant, exerting his despotic sway even over 
 the unhappy tutor, who found that he had 
 undertaken an ungrateful office, and soon 
 discovered that the method best adapted for 
 securing his own peace of mind, and also for 
 giving satisfaction, was, that the little pickle 
 should do just as much as he chose, and 
 no more ; and that he (the tutor) should 
 snatch the moments when his pupil was 
 graciously pleased to learn a few lessons, to 
 instil into his mind a little of that concen- 
 trated knowledge which is to be found in
 
 278 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 " Pinnock's Catechisms," and works of a 
 similar character — books whereby the youth- 
 ful prodigy is enabled to inform an admiring 
 audience concerning the exact number of 
 miles from here to the moon, before he 
 knows the very rudiments of his native 
 tongue. 
 
 Lord Bewleigh felt it a great relief when 
 Cosmo went to school : he was rid, by the 
 boy's absence, of an incubus which had never 
 left him since the day of the child's birth ; 
 and he manifested an unusual amount of 
 interest in the fair-haired little Evelyn, who 
 bore a striking resemblance to her mother, 
 and looked pretty even as a baby, from the 
 size of her blue eyes, and the unusual 
 quantity of flaxen hair that appeared under 
 her beautiful lace cap.
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 279 
 
 This addition to their family was the only 
 event worthy of record that occurred to the 
 Bewleighs, and years passed over without 
 changing anything in their habits. Port- 
 land Place in the season — Bewleigh Hall 
 in the winter; much gambling, numerous 
 parties, and great extravagance: these 
 formed the chief features of their un- 
 interesting existence. 
 
 Meanwhile, where are Henry and Florence 
 St. Meurice ? They have been leading a life 
 of monotony also. The only events in their 
 existence consist in an occasional change of 
 quarter ; on the occurrence of which they 
 always left regrets behind them, so endearing
 
 * 
 280 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 were both their amiable characters. Edith 
 Tyrell still continues to live with her aun 
 and uncle. Poor girl ! — where else can she 
 reside? Though in truth she is not to be 
 pitied, for she has a comfortable home, and 
 loves her kind protectors as dearly as they 
 love her. She is much grown since we last 
 saw her in her white frock and red sash, and 
 now sits, a fine girl of sixteen, at the table, 
 preparing tea for her uncle, who, tired with 
 the fatigues of a field-day, is dozing comfort- 
 ably in the large arm-chair, while Florence 
 sits in the chimney corner intent on her 
 knitting, and the tea-kettle sings merrily on 
 the fire. 
 
 So, the Second Generation is treading
 
 TWO GENERATIONS. 281 
 
 rapidly on the heels of the First. They must 
 soon he called on to 
 
 "Fret their hour upon the stage," 
 
 and their footsteps will quickly efface the 
 traces of those that have gone before 
 them. 
 
 Mark this — ye that sit in high places. 
 Great and noble as you now are, unless you 
 do some good in your generation that may 
 bring your name into the mouths of your 
 children's children, the flood of time will 
 efface the recollection of your greatness and 
 your nobility, and you wiU be spoken of 
 merely as " the fifth Earl," or " the sixth 
 Marquess," when the ninth or tenth of the 
 name shall dwell in those halls which you 
 inhabit so proudly, as if you were not to be 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 282 TWO GENERATIONS. 
 
 called on to make way for your children, as 
 your fathers gave place to you. 
 
 Have we forgotten another actor in our 
 play ? One who has filled a minor part, but 
 may not be suffered to vanish from our 
 recollection. 
 
 Where is the child of poor Valerie? for 
 the child lived, though the unhappy mother 
 died in giving it birth. 
 
 Who can tell? Does the secret lie with 
 the father ? If so, he has made no confidant 
 in England. Rumours of the affair had 
 reached this country at the time of its occur- 
 rence, but they were vague ; and as the matter 
 was a delicate one, Bewleigh's friends had
 
 TW^O GENERATIONS. 283 
 
 abstained from questioning him on the 
 subject. 
 
 Many years have elapsed since then ; and 
 the story is long forgotten. Who should 
 remember it ? De Merly is dead ; Valerie 
 lives no more ; and France has been so con- 
 vulsed with wars, and rumours of wars, that 
 each has looked to his own affairs, and not to 
 his neighbour's. 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
 
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