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 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 University of Illinois Library 
 
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 L161— H41
 
 T HE 
 
 HEIR OF SELWOOD: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THREE EPOCHS OF A LIFE. 
 
 BY THE AUTHORESS OF 
 
 MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS," "MRS. ARMYTAGE," 
 AND " STOKESHILL PLACE. " 
 
 Lkon. How now, boy? 
 
 Mam. I am /lAe you, they say. 
 
 Leon. Why, that's some comfort!"' 
 
 AVlNTEK's Tai.e. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 183 8.
 
 T. C. Savill, Prinler, 107, St. Martin's Lane.
 
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, 
 I The waters are sparkling in wood and glen. 
 
 Away from the chamber and dusky earth, 
 The leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ; 
 Their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains, 
 And joy is abroad in the green domains. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 " I HAVE planned a charming walk for 
 this morning, — so lay aside your drawing, and 
 put on your bonnet," cried Lady Norman to 
 her young friend, Sophy Ravenscroft, as she 
 entered the cheerful drawing-room of Selwood 
 ; Cottage one bright October day. " Dash and 
 Rover are waiting impatiently at the garden 
 gate, and it is just the weather for one of our 
 expeditions.'* 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 l: THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " I have been so idle since I came into Wor- 
 cestershire," pleaded Sophy, looking wistfully at 
 her preparations for a diligent day's work. 
 
 " Do not disgrace our delightful rides, drives, 
 and saunters, by the name of idleness," ex- 
 claimed Lady Norman. "Fie upon your in- 
 gratitude, Sophy ! — When you came to Selwood 
 you scarcely knew a nettle from an ivy-bush, or 
 a gnat from a dragon-fly : and consider what 
 country wonders I have taught you during the 
 last three months; — what lovely landscapes I 
 have shewn you — what striking spots ! — Instead 
 of slaving here over your drawing-box, you 
 should rejoice in the opportunity of another 
 day's study among the Selwood woods." 
 
 " 1 have enjoyed so many days' study," re- 
 plied Miss Ravenscroft, " and have still nothing 
 to shew for my lost leisure." 
 
 " You have not yet seen the effect of 
 Tuesday's frost upon the beech trees. The 
 plantations near the river are tinged with gold. 
 My dear Mrs. Ravenscroft," continued Lady 
 Norman, interrupting herself as Sophy's mother, 
 a good-humoured middle-aged woman, entered
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 3 
 
 the room, *'pray help me to persuade your 
 daughter to her own advantage. This is the 
 last day of my holidays; Sir Richard posi- 
 tively returns to-morrow, and I want to in- 
 troduce Sophia to the picturesque old ford 
 at Avonwell, while the weather admits of the 
 excursion." 
 
 " My daughter will be delighted to go with 
 you," replied Mrs. Ravenscroft. " I am so 
 little able to bear her company in her rambles, 
 that but for your kind assistance, she would have 
 seen nothing of the neighbourhood." 
 
 " If you permit me, dear Mamma, I shall 
 
 enjoy the walk beyond everything," cried th^" 
 
 light-hearted girl, laying aside her occupation ; 
 
 " but you said last night I had neglected my 
 
 drawing and music since we came to Selwood." 
 
 " I said so because Sir Richard Norman's 
 return will deprive you of your friend's 
 society, and throw you back on your usual 
 avocations " 
 
 '* To which you wished to reconcile her 
 beforehand !" cried Lady Norman, playfully 
 concluding the sentence. " At least, let us 
 B 2
 
 4 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 enjoy this last day's expedition ; for I admit 
 that Sir Richard is apt to exact a considerable 
 share of my time and company." 
 
 Taking her knitting from her work-basket, 
 while Sophia proceeded to prepare for her 
 walk, Mrs. Ravenscroft could not but reflect 
 in silence, that a husband so covetous of the 
 society of his charming wife, need not have 
 loitered three long months on the Continent 
 on a mere excursion of pleasure. 
 
 '^ It is now the first week in October ; and 
 it was exactly Midsummer when Sir Richard 
 left home," observed Lady Norman, as if 
 penetrating the musings of her companion. ^' I 
 remember that we received the letter from 
 General Trevor announcing your having taken 
 Selwood, and introducing you to our acquaint- 
 ance, the very day he determined on his journey." 
 
 " True, — it was exactly at Midsummer." 
 
 ''Your arrival at that moment seemed an 
 especial blessing. How tedious would the 
 summer have been to me, but for you and 
 Sophy ! General Trevor little guessed the 
 favour he was conferring in that introduction.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 5 
 
 Till you came to the cottage," continued Lady 
 Norman> with earnestness, " I never knew the 
 happiness of a female friend. Marrying so 
 young, and living constantly at the Manor 
 House, with bad roads, a thin neighbourhood, 
 and at a distance from my own family, I have 
 never had even an intimate acquaintance. This 
 is the chief cause of Sir Richard's regret at our 
 having no family. People with young children 
 growing up around them, never feel the want of 
 an interest in life.'* 
 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft shrewdly conjectured that 
 the want of an heir to his fine estate and ancient 
 baronetcy might have a still greater share in the 
 discontents of Sir Richard. 
 
 '* But now all my cares are over," resumed 
 Lady Norman, cheerfully ; '* you have taken a 
 long lease of the cottage, and we have fourteen 
 happy, sociable, neighbourly years in prospect. 
 How I long to receive Norman's congratulations 
 on the fortunate change your arrival has effected ! 
 Thanks to Sophy's instructions, he will find me 
 so improved in singing, and such a proficient in 
 German !"
 
 b THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 "My daughter is lucky to find such en- 
 couragement in her favourite pursuits." 
 
 " I cannot help wondering," continued Lady 
 Norman, after a few moments' cogitation, " how 
 you will like Sir Richard. Our position is 
 so very strange — so very peculiar. That two 
 dear friends of mine should neither know my 
 husband, nor be known to him ! — From the 
 moment of his departure, dear Mrs. Ravens- 
 croft, we have been passing many hours of every 
 day in each other's society. I have never ceased 
 talking to you of Azm, or writing to him oi you ; 
 yet you are about to meet as strangers. I shall 
 only guess your opinion of him — his of you and 
 Sophy, I know him well enough to anticipate. 
 What a pleasant winter we shall pass together." 
 
 " Admit, at least," said Mrs. Ravenscroft, 
 raising her eyes a moment from her knitting to 
 the sweet face of her companion, " that you 
 have done your best to make us familiar with 
 Sir Richard Norman's good qualities !" 
 
 " You will soon acknowledge that 1 have not 
 praised him too highly," replied Matilda, blush- 
 ing; "yet I have more than common cause to
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 7 
 
 be partial. I owe my husband gratitude, as 
 well as love, for his choice of one so inferior 
 to himself in birth, station, talents, arid educa- 
 tion." 
 
 " I cannot admit a man's mere preference to 
 be a subject of thankfulness," observed Mrs. 
 Ravenscroft — a stickler, at all times, for the 
 dignity of the sex. " The feeling is spon- 
 taneous, and pursued for his selfish gratifi- 
 cation. It is only by the uniform kindness of 
 after-life he establishes a claim on the ffra- 
 titude of a wife." 
 
 " Then I have still a right to plead gratitude 
 towards Sir Richard Norman," replied Matilda. 
 " But here comes Sophia. I do not apologize 
 for taking her away. I see you have ample 
 amusements in store for our absence. Your 
 marker has not advanced beyond the middle of 
 Kirkpatrick's ' Nepaul.' " And the thickness of 
 Miss Ravenscroft's shoes and shawl having been 
 carefully passed in review by her mother, away 
 they went on their expedition to Avonwell. 
 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft had cause to be careful. 
 Sophy was the only child of one of the happiest
 
 8 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 of happy marriages ; commenced in cheerful 
 poverty, prospered by courage and intelHgence, 
 and terminated by the glorious death of Captain 
 Ravenscroft in the service of his country, be- 
 queathing a sailor's fame and more than a 
 sailor's ordinary gains, to his widow and child. 
 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft, however, possessed the hap- 
 piest retrospections to solace her misfortune. 
 Amid the cares and anxieties of their early 
 life, not an angry feeling or harsh word had 
 disturbed their union. She had chosen to rough 
 it with her husband through all sorts of climates 
 and vicissitudes ; and, though neither literary 
 nor learned, had considerable knowledge of the 
 world and insight into human character. It 
 was a consolation to her to find in her daughter 
 a lively and intelligent companion, indifferent 
 to the pomps of life; and having wound up 
 the settlement of their little fortune, Mrs. 
 Ravenscroft retired to an agreeable habitation in 
 Worcestershire selected by her relation. Lady 
 Farleigh, and considered herself fortunate that 
 accident had secured them neighbours so desir- 
 able as Sir Richard and Lady Norman.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 9 
 
 Beyond the Manor House, Selwood had 
 little to boast in the way of neighbourhood. 
 Farleigh Castle was eight miles distant ; and the 
 vicar and his wife were valetudinarians of ad- 
 vanced age. But scarcely had they been settled 
 a month at the cottage, when both mother and 
 daughter admitted that every deficiency was 
 compensated by the cordiality with which they 
 were welcomed into the country by the amiable 
 Lady Norman. 
 
 The accidental absence of Sir Richard served 
 to further the progress of their intimacy. Sym- 
 pathy of sex, tastes, and pursuits, brought them 
 readily together; and long before the period 
 appointed for his return from France, it seemed 
 almost forgotten among them that they had ever 
 lived apart. For Mrs. Ravenscroft, Lady Nor- 
 man felt the respect of a daughter ; for Sophia, 
 the tenderness of a sister. The simple history 
 of their lives had often received the tribute of her 
 tears; and her own, less eventful and less touch- 
 ing, was frankly disclosed in return. Matilda 
 related it without apology or comment. But 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft's experience of the world sug- 
 B 3
 
 10 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 gested from her simple text a thousand conjec- 
 tures concerning the present prospects of her 
 young friend, and the character and peculiarities 
 of Sir Richard Norman.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 There, or within the compass of her fields, 
 At any moment may the dame be found ; 
 True as the stockdove to her shallow nest ; 
 And to the grove that holds it. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 There was something baronial and command- 
 ing in the aspect of Selwood Manor House. 
 Situated on the summit of a lofty hill and sur- 
 rounded by sloping woods, it afforded a land- 
 mark for all the country round. The mansion 
 was of Elizabethan date and architecture ; but 
 closely adjoining, stood the remains of an ancient 
 keep and embankment, retaining the dignified 
 title of Norman Castle, and connected with the 
 high origin of the family.
 
 12 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 It might almost be surmised that, previous to 
 the establishment of roads and inland navi- 
 gation, our ancestors possessed some preter- 
 natural facility for the transportation of stone 
 for architectural purposes. We are told in 
 sacred story by what means the rafters of cedar 
 were removed from Mount Carmel for the con- 
 struction of Solomon's Temple ; and it was pretty 
 apparent that the venerable gray granite form- 
 ing the walls of the Manor House was supplied 
 by the ruins of the ancient fabric. But by what 
 process the stones of Norman Castle had been 
 originally conveyed to the site, was still a mys- 
 tery. In spite of the means and appliances of 
 modern mechanism, the miracle has never been 
 renewed ; and the frightful red-brick houses of 
 that part of Worcestershire, are put still deeper 
 to the blush by the sober hue of the noble fagade 
 of Sir Richard Norman's family mansion. 
 
 Secured by this solidity of construction from 
 the injuries inflicted on other manorial houses 
 by the vagaries of modern improvement, the 
 Manor House had suffered nothing from the 
 High and Low Dutch innovations introduced
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 13 
 
 under the auspices of the houses of Hanover and 
 Nassau. The windows retained their noble 
 proportions, the doors their original entabla- 
 tures, and the furniture was characteristic and ap- 
 propriate. Old pictures, old arras, old carvings, 
 old porcelain, — all was quaint and antiquated. 
 With the exception of a suite of rooms fitted up 
 for Lady Norman on her marriage, everything 
 remained as in the days of the first George ; 
 when the alliance of Sir Rupert Norman with 
 a city heiress, produced the partial renovation 
 of the old manor. 
 
 The house was of liberal, but not stupendous 
 dimensions ; fortunately enough, — since, even 
 without any vast intricacy of corridors or stair- 
 cases, it was gloomy and dispiriting. The dis- 
 proportion of the old-fashioned panes of glass to 
 the windows, — the fretted cornices and groined 
 ceilings, — the dingy hue of the satin hangings and 
 mahogany doors, — produced an unpleasant effect 
 upon eyes accustomed to contemplate the airy 
 but meretricious elegance of modern taste ; nor 
 was it possible to pass a winter week under Sir 
 Richard's roof without admiring the hardiness
 
 14 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 of his predecessors, ere the arts of lighting and 
 heating attained their present pitch of perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 Considerable respect was impressed at the 
 same time upon the guests at Selwood Manor 
 towards a family which furnished such noble 
 portraits to the picture-gallery, and such majestic 
 monuments to the parish church. For a cen- 
 tury and a half, indeed, these last had suffered 
 interruption, — the latest Norman interred at 
 Selwood being a cavalier of the reign of 
 Charles II. ; since which epoch, the members of 
 the house had suffered grievous dispersion. 
 Some were lying at St. Germains, some in Aus- 
 tria, some in Italy. Many had seen the light 
 on foreign ground, and were to foreign dust 
 returned. Even the present inheritor. Sir 
 Richard, was receiving his education at the col- 
 lege of Scotch Benedictines in Paris, when the 
 outbreak of the first French revolution sent 
 him back to complete his studies in his native 
 country. 
 
 In all this, and in everything relating to the 
 Manor, there was a certain character of the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 15 
 
 Stately and aristocratic, which hngers with 
 peculiar odour of sanctity among the Roman- 
 catholic gentry of England. The idea of a 
 mesalliance on the part of the head of such a 
 house, seemed almost preposterous. Yet such 
 was the fact. Lady Norman was the daughter 
 of a Warwickshire manufacturer; and, what was 
 held more heinous by the hereditary servants of 
 Sir Richard, a heretic, — the grand-daughter of 
 a protestant minister of the gospel ! They were 
 almost resigned to the affliction that the mar- 
 riage-bed of the degenerate Baronet had proved 
 childless, lest the daughter of perdition should 
 bequeath a touch of heresy to the future repre-, 
 sentatives of his line ! 
 
 From any religious scruples on the subject, 
 however, Sir Richard Norman was free. From 
 the period when, at fifteen years old, he was 
 driven home from Paris, till now, when the 
 recent restoration of peace to Europe enabled 
 him to visit it again, the stanchness of his ad- 
 herence to the church of his fathers had been 
 gradually weakened. But Catholicism was at 
 that period an injured and suffering cause ; and
 
 16 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 a sentiment of chivalry attached many of its 
 least credulous sons to the drooping banner. 
 The dissipations of London society, however, 
 had done their part to diminish the respect of 
 the gay young baronet for the abstruse doc- 
 trines so long and tediously inculcated by his 
 Jesuitical preceptor, the Abbe O'Donnel ; and 
 Sir Richard sometimes found it difficult to fire 
 himself up to becoming warmth of champion- 
 ship, when the cause of Catholicism, as a political 
 question, was discussed in his hearing at the 
 fashionable dinner-tables, with the arguments 
 of the fashionable periodicals of that day of 
 intolerance. 
 
 Apprehensive of alienating the affections of 
 his opulent disciple from a cause so much in 
 need of the support of wealth and consequence, 
 the Abbe had been an indulgent task-master. 
 His lessons went no further than the surface. 
 He required from young Norman only the 
 semblance of virtue, — the renunciation of faults 
 and frailties revolting to the moral order of 
 society. Egotism, the master vice of the heart, 
 the besetting sin of the great and prosperous,
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOB. 17 
 
 he suffered to flourish unchecked ; and Sir 
 Richard grew up accordingly the slave of im- 
 pulse — the creature of selfishness and pride. 
 
 Handsome and intelligent, there was little 
 opening for the display of his talents ; and the 
 career of public life being closed against the 
 young papist, it was in libertinism and excess 
 that his misdirected energies were suffered to 
 run to waste. That was a dissolute era of the 
 dissolute London world ! — The excitement pro- 
 duced by the extraordinary political events 
 agitating the Continent seemed productive of 
 universal disorder. Every day brought tidings 
 from afar of struggle and death ; and, as if 
 ashamed of their inaction, the idlers of London 
 plunged at each rumour into deeper intemper- 
 ance. Among the wild and reckless. Sir 
 Richard shone pre-eminent. It was only by a 
 certain hauteur of manner and beauty of person, 
 that he was distinguished from the throng of 
 the fashionable ruffians of the day. 
 
 Once emancipated from the control of guar- 
 dians and tutors, there were none to interpose 
 their counsels between him and ruin. An or-
 
 18 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 phan in childhood, he was the sole survivor of 
 his family. Of the once flourishing house of 
 Norman, there remained only a second cousin, 
 on whom the baronetcy and estates were en- 
 tailed; who, whether as his former guardian or 
 future heir, was an object of unqualified dislike 
 to Sir Richard. 
 
 In that quarter, however, the ancient family 
 seemed secure from extinction. Mr. Norman 
 was the father of a numerous offspring, all rigid 
 catholics, and like himself engaged in mercan- 
 tile pursuits. Giles, the eldest son, was a part- 
 ner in his father's bank ; Rupert, the second, 
 the head of a house of business in Trieste ; a 
 third was settled in New York ; and two younger 
 ones, destined to the same thriving career, were 
 studying at Stonyhurst. Old Norman, who 
 had amassed a considerable fortune in com- 
 mercial life, was fond of sneering at those un- 
 profitable members of his church w^ho, excluded 
 by the injustice of the country from professional 
 distinctions, were too proud to conquer an inde- 
 pendence by humbler means. The banker was 
 a hard, unpolished man, ill-calculated to con-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 19 
 
 ciliate the regard or submission of his young 
 relative. With the faults or follies of his ward 
 he had never condescended to argue. His only 
 form of control was irony, — of all coercions the 
 most hardening to the mind of youth. In Sir 
 Richard's boyhood, he had been sneered at for 
 aping the vices of a man ; in his manhood, for 
 aping the follies of a fine gentleman. Mr. 
 Norman openly predicted that his ward would 
 never come to good, — a prediction, how often 
 the cause of its own accomplishment ! 
 
 Vainly did Mrs. Norman, a being of some- 
 what gentler mood, represent that it might be 
 injurious to their children to provoke the resent- 
 ment of the head of the family. 
 
 " What signifies the lad's enmity to me 9" — 
 was her husband's blunt reply. " His liking or 
 disliking will neither cut off the entail of the 
 estates, nor divert the line of succession . Should 
 he die unmarried or childless, I must succeed 
 him ; and should he leave children of his own, 
 his warmest affection would not suffice to alien- 
 ate a guinea from his rent-roll in favour of his 
 relations."
 
 20 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Influenced by this matter-of-fact view of their 
 connexion, Mr. Norman persisted in refusing 
 every concession required by the young baronet. 
 During the minority, he took care that the 
 Selwood estates should be properly admi- 
 nistered ; and, on resigning his trust, troubled 
 his head about them no more. He had more to 
 gain by attending to the ventures of his own 
 argosies and the fluctuation of public securities, 
 than by speculating on the inheritance of Sir 
 Richard Norman ; and, once or twice, when 
 (the embarrassments of the young man requiring 
 the co-operation of the heir-at-law) the men of 
 business of the baronet applied to the men of 
 business of the man of business to negotiate be- 
 tween them, Mr. Norman's replies were not 
 only negative, but insulting. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs between the 
 cousins, till Sir Richard attained his seven and 
 twentieth year; when Mr. Norman was one 
 day suddenly reminded by his wife, that their 
 kinsman was still in difficulties, and still a 
 bachelor. The remark, probably, bore indi- 
 rect reference to the introduction that season
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 21 
 
 into society of their only daughter, Agatha ; 
 for upon Mr. Norman's indulging in his usual 
 exclamations against Sir Richard, his lady 
 answered, with great naivete — "Extravagant 
 and dissipated I admit him to be, but that 
 might render a fortune of fifteen thousand 
 pounds the more acceptable. Marry he cer- 
 tainly will ; and if our son Giles is to be cut 
 out, better by a grandchild of our own, than 
 by the son of a stranger." 
 
 Startled by this luminous view of the case, 
 Mr. Norman indulged in no further inter- 
 jections. The project was more sagacious than 
 he had expected to hear unfolded by his wife. 
 He liked the thoughts of hedging his odds of 
 the Selwood property — of insuring his venture 
 — of underwriting his spec. The match would 
 be an excellent one for his daughter ; and in so 
 business-like a point of view did the affair present 
 itself to his mind, that he wrote that very day 
 to Sir Richard, stating the amount of his 
 daughter's fortune, proposing the connexion, 
 and inviting him to form a more intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the family.
 
 22 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 But young Norman, a wassailer at Water's, 
 and frequenter of the Argyll Rooms, was a 
 very different being from the raw impetuous 
 boy, whom his harsh guardian had formerly 
 sneered into shame, or controlled by a scrape 
 of the pen. 
 
 " Marry the beastly fellow's daughter !" was 
 his indignant exclamation, on receiving these 
 cool proposals from the man he most disliked 
 on earth — " I would as soon bestow my hand 
 upon a barmaid V 
 
 The terms of his letter of rejection were not 
 many degrees more courteous; and Mr. Nor- 
 man's commentary on the text, that " he de- 
 served the rebuke, for having been willing to 
 accept a broken-down spendthrift for his son- 
 in-law," confirmed their mutual ill-will, and 
 established a lasting feud in the family. 
 
 It happened that, a few days after his cousin's 
 taunt was repeated to him, (with due exagge- 
 ration on the part of the good-natured friend 
 who employed himself as spite-bearer between 
 the belligerents,) Sir Richard set off from the 
 Manor into Warwickshire, to join a fashionable
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. '23 
 
 party at Arden Park, for the county races. 
 Still labouring under the excitement of mind 
 produced by his family quarrel, he was ready to 
 listen to any foolish suggestion of his own, or 
 other people's. The repeater of grievances, by 
 whom his wounded pride had been thus in- 
 flamed, had already whispered, when inveigh- 
 ing against the arrogance and interestedness 
 of the heir-at-law — " Marry, my dear fellow ; 
 marry, and disappoint the expectations of the 
 family !" — and Sir Richard Norman was quite 
 in the humour to adopt these sapient counsels. 
 
 In his immediate circle, indeed, were 
 divers lovely ladyships and honourable misses, 
 ready and willing to second his intentions ; but 
 Sir Richard was too well versed in the 
 arcana of fashionable corruption to risk his 
 honour at such fearful odds. The houses of 
 parliament from which he stood excluded, had 
 been devoting their attention that session to 
 half a dozen lordly divorce-bills ; and with all 
 his desire to hurl defiance at his off'ending heir- 
 at-law. Sir Richard demurred. 
 
 Anxious, irritated, flushed with unnatural
 
 24 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 vivacity, he accompanied Lord Arden's party 
 to the races, and concluded the day at a brilliant 
 ball, given in the Town Hall ; and there, while 
 surveying the oddities and uglinesses usually 
 abounding in such heterogeneous assemblies, 
 his attention was arrested by a fair form and 
 prepossessing countenance, which seemed to 
 belong to a higher sphere of society. Capti- 
 vated by these attractions, he obtained an intro- 
 duction to Matilda Maule; whose modesty 
 of deportment and elegance of manners com- 
 pleted the charm. The delicacy of extreme 
 youth bloomed on her cheek, enhanced by a 
 profusion of light glossy ringlets. In the course 
 of an evening's acquaintance. Sir Richard fell 
 desperately in love ; and Mr. Norman's chance 
 of inheritance was thenceforward scarce worth 
 noting. 
 
 A country town during race time, is an ark 
 where inferior and superior animals are jumbled 
 together in undistinguishable confusion. The 
 following day the waters subside, and the assem- 
 blage disperses itself anew over the face of the 
 land. ' While Lord Arden's party, including
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 25 
 
 Sir Richard Norman, returned to Arden Park, 
 Mrs. Wickset's party, including Miss Matilda 
 Maule, returned to a stuccoed villa, within 
 a few miles of Birmingham. For, alas ! the 
 young lovers belonged to orbits far as the poles 
 asunder ; — Sir Richard being head of a house of 
 eight hundred years' gentility ; and Matilda's 
 father, Mr. Maule, the head of a house of 
 business in the hardware line, extensively known 
 as the firm of Maule, Cruttenden, Wickset, 
 and Co. 
 
 The discovery of the young beauty's want of 
 connection might, at any other moment, have 
 nipped in the bud the passion of her new suitor ; 
 but to the influence of Matilda's attractions was 
 added that of his desire to thwart the expecta- 
 tions of his cousin ; and the first moment he 
 could release himself from the Ardens, he 
 hastened to avail himself of an invitation from 
 Mrs. Wickset to visit her at Acacia Place ; 
 and for three weeks following, was scarcely a 
 day absent from Matilda's society. 
 
 Weary of the emptiness and egotism of 
 fashionable life, — weary of waltzing young ladies 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 and manoeuvring mammas, — the gentleness and 
 simplicity of Matilda's character completed the 
 conquest her beauty had begun. To attach the 
 idea of vulgarity to such a being would have 
 been as absurd as to inquire the pedigree of the 
 Venus de Medicis. She was a thing apart — 
 a creature too richly gifted by nature to be 
 weighed in any ordinary balance ; and when at 
 length he hazarded his proposals, the wealthy 
 Baronet was inspired by the only sentiment 
 which ought to influence a lover's heart at such 
 a moment, — that it was the height of presumption 
 on his part to aspire to the affections of a person 
 so infinitely superior. 
 
 Matilda's answer was favourable. She referred 
 him to her father ; and Mrs. Wickset being 
 shrewd enough to guess that Sir Richard 
 Norman's attachment was likely to be put to 
 severe tests by a visit to the factory, and a 
 first introduction to the two resident partners, 
 Messrs. Maule and Cruttenden, promised that 
 Matilda should return home in time to shed a 
 conciliating grace over the preliminary interview
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. '27 
 
 between the Baronet and his future father-in- 
 law. 
 
 Though it was one of those cases of love at 
 first sight which seem to justify the most dis- 
 proportionate alliances, she felt that it would be 
 injudicious to fortify, by personal disgusts the 
 opposition which the wayward choice of Sir 
 Richard Norman was likely to excite among 
 his kinsfolk and acquaintance. 
 
 c2
 
 28 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 What is that curt'sy worth ? — or those dove's eyes 
 Which can make gods forsworn ! — I melt, and am not 
 Of stronger earth than others ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Although Norman's wild adventures had 
 beguiled him so far beyond the narrow pale 
 of fashionable society, that he was apt to fancy 
 the world was known to him in all its aspects, 
 high and low, rich and poor, tatters and brocade, 
 — a new page in the heavy volume of life was 
 unfolded to him at the factory. To have traced 
 his beloved Matilda to a cottage, and raised 
 her from the picturesque rusticity of hawthorns 
 and a thatched roof to the splendours of Selwood 
 Manor, would have been an act of poetical jus-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 29 
 
 tice. But, alas ! the sooty establishment of 
 Messrs. Maule, Cruttenden, Wickset, and Co. 
 proved an anti-climax to every high- wrought 
 aspiration of his soul. 
 
 Situated at the extremity of a dirty suburb, 
 the huge ill-painted gates stood so near a tanner's 
 yard that the fury excited among Mr. Maule's 
 squadron of mastiffs by the sudden stopping of 
 Sir Richard's curricle called forth the sym- 
 pathetic rage of the tanner's yelping regiment of 
 curs; and when the stranger pushed his way 
 along an avenue formed by two lofty, dingy 
 walls, and discovered at the close a gloomy- 
 looking brick-house, facing an extensive range • 
 of buildings which in aspect resembled a peni- 
 tentiary, and in smell, the London gas-works, 
 his disgust was complete. 
 
 A squalid-looking individual, arrayed in paper 
 cap, fustian drawers, and a dirty, ragged shirt, 
 whom he beckoned from a pump, undertook to 
 acquaint Mr. Maule that a gentleman wished to 
 speak with him; and Sir Richard walked im- 
 patiently up and down beside a range of coal- 
 sheds, sickened by the smell of engine-grease,
 
 30 * THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 and stifled with the smother of the furnaces, till 
 he was accosted by a square, sober-looking, 
 brown-gaitered gentleman, whose loose and 
 somewhat seedy coat seemed made to embrace 
 the whole firm of Maule, Cruttenden, Wickset, 
 and Co. ; and who touched his broad-brimmed 
 beaver respectfully to a stranger having so much 
 the air of a customer well to do in the world. 
 
 After proceeding so far in explanation as was 
 admissible in the open yard, Mr. Maule led the 
 way into his dwelling-house ; where Sir Richard 
 was informed that, instead of approaching it 
 through the respectable iron gates and sweep 
 forming the regular entrance, he had crept in 
 the back way, where there was " no admittance 
 except on business." Still, the atmosphere was 
 the same. Everything on the premises, from 
 the window-blinds to the hollyhocks in the gar- 
 den, was blackened with soot ; nor was it till, 
 having followed his sober guide into a neat, airy 
 drawing-room, he found himself surrounded by 
 a choice collection of books, drawings, and musi- 
 cal instruments, he could bring himself to believe 
 that such was the terrestrial paradise of the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 31 
 
 angelic being by whom his soul had been *' lapped 
 in Elysium" at Acacia Place. 
 
 Neither Matilda nor her letter of explanation 
 having at present reached her father, Sir Richard 
 Norman had his own tale to relate; a tale so 
 passing strange, that Mr. Maule was obliged to 
 have it thrice repeated to him before he could 
 arrive within many degrees of comprehension. 
 To learn that the gentleman before him was a 
 baronet of high descent, with a rentroll of eight 
 thousand a-year, come to ask for the hand of his 
 daughter, and offer her a jointure of three thou- 
 sand per annum in return, was a thing to have 
 been scouted as an idle hoax, had Maule been 
 of jocular nature, or versed in the fooleries of 
 London life. 
 
 But the manufacturer was a grave, stern man ; 
 soured by the loss of a wife who had brought 
 him six children to provide for, and taken her- 
 self to a better world when it behoved her to 
 stay and take care of them in this, — and ab- 
 sorbed by the important interests of a factory 
 employing eight hundred workmen, and a capital 
 of fearful amount. Cruttenden, Wickset, and Co.
 
 32 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 gave their names and money to the firm, Maule 
 his whole time and attention. The grimy at- 
 mosphere was as natal air to him ; and the clat- 
 tering of wheels and stamping of beams, the 
 natural music of his sphere. He had become 
 almost a part of the machinery. The business 
 of his workdays was to amass as liberal a provi- 
 sion for each of his six children as had been be- 
 queathed by his parents to himself; and the 
 relaxation of his Sabbath to secure, by a threefold 
 attendance at divine worship, a blessing on the 
 sixfold gains he made it his duty to heap to- 
 gether; justifying his over-carefulness for the 
 things of this world, by attributing his narrow 
 thrift to the instinct of parental affection. 
 
 To such a money-mill of a man, it was almost 
 a disappointment that his future son-in-law 
 made no inquiries into the amount of fortune it 
 would be convenient to him to bestow upon his 
 daughter, in addition to the five thousand pounds 
 to which he fancied all the world must know 
 Matilda to be entitled by virtue of her mother's 
 settlement; and he had scarcely patience when 
 the notification of his intended liberalities pro-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. S3 
 
 duced no change in the handsome countenance 
 of Sir Ricliard. He began to suspect that all 
 was not quite right with the mysterious stranger, 
 — and begged time to talk the matter over with 
 his friends, " Matty was expected home every 
 hour. On the following morning he would 
 have the honour of waiting upon Sir Richard at 
 the King's Arms." 
 
 Although from the moment of setting foot 
 in the factory-yard poor Norman had been 
 chiefly anxious to bring his visit to a close, he 
 was not altogether satisfied with this summary 
 dismissal. He had anticipated a more cordial 
 reception. He felt that, like a good bill, he had 
 a right to be accepted at sight. Nettled by the 
 coolness of Maule, and disgusted by the fumes of 
 his domicile, he could have found it in his heart 
 to order posthorses and return to the pure alti- 
 tudes of Selwood Manor ; for he had now been 
 some hours absent from the influence of Matilda's 
 charms, and was beginning to discover that in 
 love, as in all beside, " ogni medaglia ha il suo 
 riversoJ* 
 
 On the morrow, however, instead of waiting 
 c3
 
 34 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 for the visit announced by Mr. Maule, he was 
 ait the factory by ten ; a note from Matilda, an- 
 nouncing her return, having invited him to join 
 them at breakfast. Under the presidency of 
 the lovely girl, whose natural elegance imparted 
 all the refinement previously wanting to the 
 little household, the establishment assumed a 
 different aspect in his eyes. Old Maule, too, 
 had become cordial and courteous. He was 
 now prepared to shake him by the hand, to 
 give him his daughter, to add ten thousand 
 pounds to her fortune, and to devote her ori- 
 ginal five thousand to pay off the baronet's in- 
 cumbrances, in consideration of the handsome 
 jointure secured on the estate to the future 
 Lady Norman. Mr. Maule's present amenity 
 of deportment was no less remarkable than his 
 churlishness at their first interview. 
 
 This sudden change was naturally attributed 
 by Sir Richard to Matilda's representations in 
 his favour, and the influence of his personal 
 merit. So ready are we to convert the 
 commonest incidents of life into tributes to 
 our egotism and self-esteem ! Mr. Maule's
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 35 
 
 change of demeanour was, in fact, solely pro- 
 duced by the coarse raillery of one of his part- 
 ners ! 
 
 Of the firm of Maule and Co., Thomas 
 Cruttenden alone was a bachelor ; — a man of a 
 certain time of life, — without connection, with- 
 out education, raised to opulence by his own 
 exertions, — dry, whimsical, and disagreeable. 
 Deficient in the ordinary topics of discourse, 
 Tom Cruttenden delighted in adding weight to 
 his conversation by saying the most unpleasant 
 things, and enforcing their poignancy by a 
 knowing wink. He liked Maule and his family 
 better than any other human beings, was god- 
 father to the second son, and a steady friend to 
 them all. But in choosing to become an in- 
 mate under the roof of his widowed partner, he 
 seemed anxious to be always on the spot to 
 comment on the irregularities of the establish- 
 ment, and the faults of the children. Over 
 young Cruttenden Maule, his godson, he ex- 
 ercised something of partial parental authority ; 
 but as to Matilda, for many years past he had 
 been descanting daily on the absurdity of the
 
 36 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 accomplishments bestowed upon her, and the 
 probability that she would live to become a 
 burthen upon the family. 
 
 " What man in his senses will marry the 
 girl ?" was his nightly ejaculation to his partner, 
 as a seasoning to the tumbler of hot Madeira 
 negus with which they concluded together the 
 evenings of their busy days. " What earthly 
 thing can Miss Matty do to make herself use- 
 ful?" 
 
 " She makes me happy, and that is all I re- 
 quire of her," replied the old gentleman. 
 
 •« She makes you happy because you see 
 her with the prejudiced eyes of a father. 
 But what will a reasonable being of a husband 
 say when he finds her tanging away at her 
 harpstrings when she ought to be minding her 
 family ? But she's never likely to have a hus- 
 band, reasonable or unreasonable. Take my 
 word for it, Matty Maule's name is too much 
 up in this town as a poor, helpless, make-believe 
 fine lady, for any of our young men to think of 
 her. Poor Matty 's marked for an old maid !" 
 
 By dint of having this denunciation dinned
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 37 
 
 in his ears, Maule had at length begun to think 
 less favourably of Matilda's attractions. The 
 wife of his junior partner, Mr. Wickset, a 
 kind, motherly woman, by whose advice his 
 daughter's education had been completed by a 
 competent governess, consoled him with assur- 
 ances that, at every fresh visit of Miss Maule 
 to her sociable house and neighbourhood, new 
 admirers presented themselves. Old Crut- 
 tenden was always ready to exclaim, on the 
 return of the young beauty, " What ! back 
 again from the fair, Matty, with the white 
 handkerchief still round your neck? — Can't 
 Madam Wickset, with all her caperings and 
 vapourings, manage to get you out of the 
 market? — Never mind, my lass! — Come down 
 a peg or two next fair day, and no doubt you'll 
 fetch something handsome yet." 
 
 It was to this comfortable friend that Maule 
 had repaired for sympathy after his first inter- 
 view with Sir Richard Norman. " A baronet 
 with eight thousand a year !" cried Cruttenden, 
 with one of his dry chuckles, after receiving the 
 exulting communication of his partner. " Come,
 
 38 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 come ! — you don't mean to swallow such a hook 
 at your time of life ? — Baronets with eight thou- 
 sand per annum don't grow on every bush ! — I 
 warrant we shall see the fellow advertised next 
 week in the ' Hue and Cry.' " 
 
 « The ' Hue and Cry !' " retorted Maule, 
 with some indignation. " Sir Richard Nor- 
 man's manners are those of a high-bred, accom- 
 plished gentleman." 
 
 " The deuce they are ! — Why, what do you 
 pretend to know, pray, of the manners of high- 
 bred, accomplished gentlemen? — Look in the 
 police reports," cried Cruttenden, with one of 
 his most knowing winks, " and you will find 
 that all these travelling swindlers have what 
 you call the manners of high-bred, accomplished 
 gentlemen, — that is, they sport a gilt guard 
 chain and copper eye-glass !" 
 
 " Sir Richard wears neither the one nor the 
 other," replied Maule, commanding his temper. 
 "More fool Sir Richard! — Dare say he 
 was Sir Lionel last week, at Leamington or 
 Buxton; and may be, Sir Albert Fitz-some- 
 thing or other, at Cheltenham, last year ! — Send
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 39 
 
 a description of his person to the Clerk of the 
 Peace, and I warrant you'll hear news of Miss 
 Matty's precious fine-gentleman sweetheart at 
 the Town Hall !"— 
 
 " I need not go so far," replied Maule, 
 scarcely able to subdue his irritation. " He 
 brought me a letter from Mrs. Wickset, to 
 whom he had the most satisfactory introduc- 
 tions." 
 
 " Mrs. Wickset !— ho, ho !— Why this is 
 better than all the rest.-rNow, just inform me 
 what Jacob Wickset's good woman should know 
 about Wurstershire baronets? — She was never 
 thirty miles from Brummagem in her born days. — 
 Madam Wickset would be taken in by Jowler 
 the house dog dressed up as a dandy, provided 
 he bowed low enough, and took care not to 
 shew his tail. — No, no, Maule ! take my ad- 
 vice,-—/ know something of the world ! — Fm 
 wider awake than you are ! — When this hum- 
 bugging chap sneaks in to-morrow morning, 
 lock up your silver spoons, and ask him for a 
 reference. If that don't bring him to his mar-
 
 40 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 row-bones, rely upon it the hardened wretch is 
 returned from transportation." 
 
 *« There are not the slightest grounds for sus- 
 pecting him to be other than he pretends ; 
 and " 
 
 " Of course not !" — interrupted Cruttenden, 
 with another provoking laugh. '' You see, Maule, 
 you've brought up that girl of yours with the 
 notion of her making a match, and choose to 
 take for a swan the first goose that hisses an 
 offer. — But Tom Cruttenden's not to be bam- 
 boozled with borrowed plumes. — Tom Crut- 
 tenden's had his breeding in a school where fine 
 words butter no parsnips. — Tom Cruttenden 
 don't care a cheeseparing for the cut and colour 
 of a coat, provided there's something heavy in 
 the pockets ; and I'll be bound that the weightiest 
 thino" in this Sir Thingumee Norman's is a 
 bunch of skeleton keys. — At all events, pray 
 don't let him into the compting-house ; I 
 wouldn't trust such a fellow with change for half 
 a crown." — 
 
 These pleasantries were wormwood to old
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 41 
 
 Maule ; for he possessed no means of disproof. 
 The coarse bantering of his partner was at all 
 times a drawback on his comfort ; yet he had not 
 courage to resent it. Habit rendered the com- 
 pany of the man with whom he had so many 
 interests in common, a portion of his existence ; 
 and though Cruttenden was always abusing the 
 children, — calling the boys dunces, and the girls 
 dawdles, — Maule was aware that he would cut 
 off his right arm to do them service, and that 
 they were likely to succeed to a large portion of 
 the old bachelor's fortune. Still, though unwil- 
 ling to come to a quarrel, it was insupportable 
 to be thus browbeaten out of all his opinions and 
 inclinations. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs, when Matilda 
 arrived in triumph to secure her father's sanction 
 to her happy prospects, and to prove him in the 
 right — Tom Cruttenden stood defeated. Tom 
 Cruttenden was forced to admit that the Sir 
 Richard Norman who had been requested by 
 the lord lieutenant of the county to open the 
 ball with his daughter, could be no impostor; 
 and for the first time in their lives, the senior
 
 42 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 partner enjoyed a hearty crow over his junior. 
 He would have crowed louder, perhaps, but 
 fdr the princely marriage-gift, bestowed by the 
 eccentric Tom upon " Miss Matty," affording 
 sterling proof of his regard for a family with 
 whose foibles he made so free. 
 
 To detail the petty mortifications which ren- 
 dered Sir Richard's courtship a period of pe- 
 nance, would be a task both frivolous and vexa- 
 tious. Though shortened beyond his hopes by 
 the frank dealing and despatch-of-business cele- 
 rity of Mr. Maule, there was leisure for a thou- 
 sand biting jests from Tom Cruttenden, a thou- 
 sand trivial irritations from the whole family. 
 
 *' Every man to his taste !" was Tom's excla- 
 mation, on learning the difference of religion 
 between the young people. " I wouldn't give 
 my daughter to a Papist !" 
 
 " Sir Richard is no bigot," argued the father. 
 " He allows Matilda the full exercise of her 
 opinions ; and though their sons must be reared 
 as Roman Catholics, the daughters will follow 
 the same church as their mother." 
 
 " About their sons or daughters I care not a
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 43 
 
 jot," cried Cruttenden ; '* seeing that they never 
 may have any. But when that poor lass finds 
 herself surrounded with a set of canting priests 
 and bigoted kinsfolk, and sees her husband tell- 
 ing his beads all day long, and worshipping- 
 graven images " 
 
 ** But I tell you that Sir Richard is by no 
 means a rigid Catholic," interrupted Maule. 
 
 " So much the worse. Since he is a Papist, 
 better be a good 'un. If a man isn't stanch in 
 his religion, in what, pray, is he likely to be in 
 earnest ? " — 
 
 A scruple thus raised in the conscience of old 
 Maule, his stipulations with his son-in-law con- 
 cerning freedom of worship for Matilda and 
 Matilda's daughters, became almost offensive. 
 Sir Richard found his religious opinions as 
 abhorrently regarded at the factory as those of a 
 Mahomedan ; and even Matilda was rendered 
 uneasy by the officious hints and denunciations 
 of her father's friend. He had scarcely patience 
 with their narrow fanaticism. He had borne 
 with their uncouthness, their want of civiliza- 
 tion, their purse-pride, their egotism ; but he
 
 44 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD, 
 
 could not stand being talked at as a Jesuit 
 on the watch to burn the whole bench of 
 bishops at the stake, and requiring the strictest 
 vigilance of the legislature of the country. 
 
 It was some palliation, meanwhile, of Tom 
 Cruttenden's offence, that his sneers at the 
 growing ostentation of the family determined 
 old Maule to solemnize his daughter's wedding 
 with modest privacy. In spite of Mrs. Wickset's 
 indignation, and the outcries of the little Maules, 
 not a creature was invited. Sir Richard's vene- 
 rable preceptor, the Abbe O'Donnel, officiated 
 with deeply-wounded feelings in the Roman- 
 catholic service that united his pupil to a Pro- 
 testant ; while Cruttenden's contempt for draw- 
 ing-room altars and special licences caused the 
 Protestant ceremony to be solemnized in the 
 parish church ; after which, the happy pair 
 emerged from the sulphureous atmosphere so ill 
 adapted to the filmy wings of Cupid, and set off 
 for Selwood Manor. 
 
 Even on the eve of the great event, with the 
 settlements signed, the family diamonds accepted, 
 and Matilda's wedding-clothes packed in the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 45 
 
 imperials of the new travelling carriage, Sir 
 Richard felt half inclined to break off his 
 ill-assorted connexion. Though Matilda was 
 dearer to him than ever, he could scarcely sur- 
 mount his disgust at the coarseness of mind of 
 those with whom she was associating. The 
 spotless feathers of the dove contract no defile- 
 ment from the rude materials of her nest, and 
 Matilda had escaped as by a miracle the slightest 
 tinge of vulgarity ; but he could not help fear- 
 ing that she shared in some slight degree the 
 misffivinffs and mistrusts of her father. At some 
 moments it was with difficulty he forbore ex- 
 claiming, — '' If you consider me a monster of 
 cruelty and deceit, — if you think that 1 shall not 
 only deal harshly by you but prevent your dis- 
 closing your wrongs to your family, — it is not yet 
 too late. I am ready to break off our engage- 
 ment." 
 
 But the angelic expression of Matilda's eyes 
 arrested the words upon his lips. A life of 
 peace and happiness was unfolded in the serenity 
 of those lovely features ; and he felt that it was
 
 46 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 his duty to bear much, in gratitude for the affec- 
 tion of so sweet a wife. 
 
 Already he had enjoyed the triumph of an- 
 nouncing to the Norman family his approaching 
 marriage with a beautiful girl of seventeen, with 
 a fortune of twenty thousand pounds ; amassed, 
 indeed, in trade, but subject to no reproach on 
 that score from the banker of Lothbury. They 
 knew that young Norman was not to be Sir 
 Giles, or Miss Agatha, Lady Norman ; and had 
 given forth from their strong closet, at his order, 
 the precious family diamonds, heirlooms long 
 marked as their own. This was almost com- 
 pensation for the nods, and becks, and knowing 
 smiles of Tom Cruttenden, and the austere 
 reserve of old Maule ; and added new raptures to 
 his wedding-day. 
 
 On passing, however, for the last time through 
 the dingy toll-bar adjoining the factory of 
 Maule, Cruttenden, Wickset, and Co., Sir 
 Richard secretly protested that his lovely bride 
 should return no more to that city of soot and 
 calcination. Her brothers were at school ; her
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 47 
 
 sisters still in the nursery. She had no bosom 
 friendships to attach her to the place, — no ties 
 of kindred or sentiment. Henceforward, his 
 idolized Matilda must forget her own people and 
 her father's house, — forget the sound of the fac- 
 tory bell, its squalid population, its baleful exha- 
 lations, — and become exclusively, for better fou. 
 worse. Lady Norman of Selwood Manor. 
 
 Could there be a stronger proof of the inap- 
 propriateness of the connexion, than that the 
 first resolution to which it gave rise was an out- 
 rage against the first and holiest duty of our 
 nature !
 
 48 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 What ! will the line stretch to the crack of doom ? 
 Another yet ? — a seventh ? — I'll see no more ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Years passed away with their alternations of 
 joy and sorrow, — day and night; and Sir 
 Richard still admitted himself to be, according 
 to common parlance, the happiest of men ! 
 
 It was amazing with what facility Matilda 
 had glided under his authority into the social 
 duties of her new vocation. At the close of a 
 few months, no one could have suspected her of 
 having moved in any lower sphere than that 
 of the Manor House. Her docile nature in- 
 stinctively adopted her husband's habits and 
 pursuits ; and when they occasionally joined the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 49 
 
 convivial meetings of their thin and scattered 
 neighbourhood, the simple unpretending ele- 
 gance of Lady Norman's manners was even 
 more applauded than her surpassing beauty. 
 Lord and Lady Farleigh invariably cited her 
 to their London friends, as the most distin- 
 guished ornament of their county. 
 
 Sir Richard, meanwhile, had evidently ex- 
 hausted his taste for frivolous dissipation. Happy 
 in his home, he devoted himself to the cultiva- 
 tion of his estate, to study, to field-sports. 
 Cheered by the lively society of his young wife, 
 there was no further occasion to forfeit his self- 
 consequence by jostling in the tawdry mob of 
 fashionable London. By mutual consent, they 
 abjured all connexion with the metropolis. 
 
 It was but natural that Sir Richard's disap- 
 pointed heir presumptive should attribute this 
 secession from the world to consciousness of 
 having formed a mesalliance. But the Normans 
 were mistaken. Sir Richard had ceased to 
 regard Matilda as aught but a portion of his 
 aristocratic self; and, t^ his wife, she was 
 entitled to her share of worldly honours. The 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 susceptibilities of his self-love were suffering 
 from a wound of very different nature. 
 
 The Catholic cause was just then at its lowest 
 ebb. Long reduced to insignificance in the court 
 and councils of their Tory sovereign, the Catholics 
 had been recently compelled to withdraw their 
 trust from the Regent. Their prospects were 
 narrower than at any preceding moment; and 
 in proportion as hope declined, the ardour 
 of their fraternization became more vehement. 
 Sir Richard redoubled his contributions to their 
 funds, became a member and correspondent of 
 their societies ; and fought over the question of 
 emancipation every evening with a worthy 
 neighbour named Mandeville (the original 
 possessor of Selwood cottage), till Matilda be- 
 came a political, if not a religious, convert. 
 
 Once in every year, on his way to town for 
 the annual settlement of the affairs of the firm, 
 Mr. Maule visited the Manor House, to rejoice 
 in his daughter's happiness and gratify his pride 
 by the sight of her prosperity. His parental 
 hortatives to Lady Norman were brief but com- 
 prehensive, — '* Not to forget her Maker, not to
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 51 
 
 forget herself;" and though he declined trusting 
 her little sisters on a visit to the Manor, within 
 grasp of the Abbe O'Donnel, never presumed 
 to trifle with the religious or political prejudices 
 of his son-in-law, after a first visit to the picture 
 gallery and chapel of Selwood Manor. He 
 seemed to understand that the Catholicism of the 
 Normans was a legitimate portion of their inhe- 
 ritance. 
 
 All went smoothly among them till one un- 
 lucky day, when (an auspicious letter from his 
 illustrious friend Mr. Grattan having put Sir 
 Richard into unusual spirits) he was rash enough 
 to suggest an invitation that Tom Cruttenden 
 should accompany his partner, on Mr. Maule's 
 ensuing periodical journey ; and though indig- 
 nant that the invitation should have been so long 
 delayed, the old gentleman's desire of once more 
 beholding " poor Matty's pretty face," induced 
 him to array himself in a new snuff'-coloured 
 suit with brass buttons, and ensconce himself 
 in a corner of his partner's postchaise. But, 
 alas ! before he had been half a day in the 
 house, there was no longer peace in Israel ; and 
 d2 
 
 UNivERsmr or ^vm
 
 52 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Matilda trembled for the sequel. The jocose 
 old gentleman had discovered that even at Sel-. 
 wood there existed a raw on which his whips 
 and scorns could be made to fall with agonizing 
 force; and to spare was an effort beyond his 
 generosity. The Normans had been eight 
 years married, and had no family. What a 
 triumphant opportunity for a licensed jester ! 
 Old Tom was never weary of inquiring, with a 
 knowing wink, in what part of the house the 
 nursery was situated ; — where was Master Nor- 
 man's rocking-horse, and little Miss Matty's 
 doll; till Matilda, who had hitherto resigned 
 herself patiently to the want of children, could 
 scarcely restrain her tears. 
 
 Nor was he less jocose with Sir Richard, on 
 the barbarity of moping up his pretty wife in a 
 tumble-down old country-house, " which, to say 
 the best of it, was as deadly lively as a house of 
 correction." 
 
 " I recollect when you was at the factory 
 before your wedding," said the spiteful old 
 bachelor, '< we thought it vastly pretty of you 
 to present poor Matty with a parcel of diamond
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 53 
 
 necklaces and gimcracks, in which we fancied 
 you meant her to figure away at court. — Who'd 
 ever have thought after all this, of your making 
 her a state-prisoner ! — Why, she led a merrier 
 life at Brummagem, taking her pleasurings with 
 Mrs. Wickset ; to say nothing of Christmas hops 
 at Mr. Blowpipe's up at the foundry." 
 
 "I have lost all inclination for balls and races," 
 interrupted Lady Norman, growing uneasy ; " I 
 am growing old. — You forget that I shall be 
 seven and twenty next birthday." 
 
 " Indeed I don't, Matty. Nobody can look 
 in your face and forget that! All your fine 
 bloom's gone, child. Your best days are over ; 
 and that's what frets me at your having moped 
 away your youth in this out-of-the-way place, 
 with nothing to shew for it. If you'd been 
 nursing a fine family of spanking boys all these 
 years, I'd say something to you. I meant you, 
 my lady, to supply me with a second godson. 
 But I find your brother Cruttenden's to re- 
 main my sole heir; just as your title and for- 
 tune, it seems, must go to a distant relation, be-
 
 54 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 cause you've been loo lazy to furnish us with a . 
 young Master Dicky of your own." 
 
 The five hundred pound-note placed by the 
 old gentleman next day at parting in Lady 
 Norman's hands, " to make threadpapers of," 
 formed a poor compensation for the wounds 
 inflicted by this ill-timed raillery. For two days 
 after his father-in-law's departure, Sir Richard 
 was thoroughly out of sorts. Never had he 
 seemed so sensitive to the mortification of seeing 
 his inheritance descend to " an unlineal hand — 
 no son of his succeeding ;" and, as if in express 
 aggravation of the grievance, the Morning Post 
 announced that week among its memorabilia, 
 the birth of, " At Grove House, Herts, the Lady 
 Catherine Norman of a son and heir." 
 
 It was scarcely a year since the same authority 
 had put forth intelligence of the marriage of 
 " Giles Norman, Esq., jun., to the eldest daugh- 
 ter of the Right Hon. the Earl of Roscrea;" — 
 and already the junior branch was germinating ! 
 Henceforward, Lady Catherine Norman and 
 her son and heir were to be thorns in the side
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 55 
 
 of Selwood Manor. Before Master Norman 
 could run alone, a portrait of the young gentle- 
 man and his cockade appeared in the exhi- 
 bition ; and having been transferred to the en- 
 graved gallery of the buds and blossoms of our 
 aristocratic Eden, was disseminated throughout 
 Great Britain. Sir Richard affected to laugh 
 to scorn the vanity of the parents ; but his 
 laughter was lip-deep, — there was pain and grief 
 in his heart. 
 
 It was noticed by Matilda that the Baronet- 
 age and Red Book of 1812 (in which was in- 
 scribed, in addition to the particulars of his own 
 birth and marriage, and the usual " heir pre- 
 sumptive, Giles Norman, Esq., of Grove Park, 
 Herts ;" the birth among the collateral branches 
 of the family of Giles, the son of Giles Nor- 
 man, Esq., by Lady Catherine, daughter to the 
 Earl of Roscrea,) was suffered to lie with vmcut 
 leaves on the library table. Nay, the plans 
 previously sent in by his architect, for two fine 
 new lodges to his park, were rolled up, knotted 
 with red tape, and permanently laid on the shelf. 
 To the great disappointment of Mr. Stucco,
 
 56 THE HEIR OF SELVVOOD. 
 
 the Baronet's zeal for the improvement of his 
 estate had suddenly subsided. 
 
 Unluckily for Matilda, in the midst of all 
 these irritations, Mr. Mandeville, the neigh- 
 bour at Selwood Cottage who had hitherto 
 shared with her the ebullitions of her husband's 
 ill-humour, was compelled to quit Worcester- 
 shire and reside upon his Irish estates ; and in 
 the course of that solitary, taciturn, peevish 
 winter, she began, for the first time, to suspect 
 that the sun of her happiness might be over- 
 clouded. She began to dread Sir Richard's 
 return home from his morning's sport ; to fear 
 that the family at Farleigh Castle might notice 
 how often his cutting remarks brought tears into 
 her eyes ; and just before the next annual visit 
 of her father, became so alarmed lest her hus- 
 band's moroseness should attract his attention 
 and draw down the animadversion of Tom 
 Cruttenden, as to invent some trifling pretext 
 for evading the visit of Mr. Maule, pretending 
 to have formed engagements from having mis- 
 taken the date of his arrival. 
 
 But Matilda was an unpractised and a bad
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 57 
 
 dissembler. Tom Cruttenden, seeing through 
 her shallow excuses, insisted that her father 
 should proceed to the Manor House as usual, 
 and ascertain the motive of her deceit ; and 
 there, according to their anticipations, Lady 
 Norman and her husband were detected, — with- 
 out guests or engagements ! Old Maule scarcely 
 waited to be alone with his daughter, to re- 
 proach her bitterly with her disingenuousness. 
 
 " When you were a young child, Matilda," 
 said the old gentleman, " you would have died 
 rather than utter an untruth. Is it because you 
 are a baronet's lady, that you think yourself 
 privileged to bear false- witness to your poor de- 
 spised tradesman of a father ? — Equivocation, 
 Lady Norman, is a lower and meaner thing 
 than the lowest of callings ! — A falsehood returns 
 sooner or later to the bosom of him who utters 
 it, like a viper flung into his face ! — But, as my 
 friend Cruttenden was saying to me the night 
 before I left home, « All this was to be expected. 
 Matty's been taken out of her own condition 
 and creed, and what good was like to come of it ? 
 D 3
 
 58 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Isn't she under the control of an old Jesuit of a 
 priest? — Isn't she abeady half a Papist?' " — 
 
 Matilda was unable to repress an impatient 
 movement of dissent. 
 
 ** I don't say that you attend chapel, or tell 
 your beads, or believe in transubstantiation," 
 cried the old man, repeating the words of the 
 oracular Tom Cruttenden ; " but you have 
 learned to say one thing and think another ; 
 and if that's not the true meaning of being a 
 Jesuit, I don't know what is." 
 
 Again Matilda remonstrated, but her father 
 was not to be propitiated. He came in mistrust, 
 and quitted her in anger; protesting that her 
 sister Betsy, who had now almost attained to 
 womanhood, should never incur the risk of 
 contamin§ition by becoming her sister's inmate 
 at the Manor. 
 
 And thus, in proportion as Matilda stood in 
 need of the countenance and affection of her 
 family, was she fated to estrange their regard. 
 She had only to resign herself to a dreary per- 
 spective of seclusion and isolation ; enjoying her
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 59 
 
 happiest moments when she could persuade her 
 husband to enliven his monotonous life by a trip 
 to town, which secured her for a time from his 
 irritability. 
 
 So stood matters at the Manor House when, 
 ten years after the celebration of Sir Richard's 
 childless union, the sudden downfal of Napoleon 
 gave rise to the unexpected pacification of Europe. 
 Eager to revisit the religious community from 
 which he had been so long estranged, the 
 Abbe O'Donnel immediately determined on 
 an excursion to Paris ; when Matilda sug- 
 gested to her husband that it might interest 
 him to review the scenes of his boyhood, and 
 take a glance at the long-closed city of re- 
 volutionized, republicanized, and reroyalized 
 France. 
 
 Weary of home and the "^^ivity of his 
 
 aimless existence, Sir Richard Norman needed 
 little persuasion to comply with the suggestion. 
 At that moment arrived General Trevor's letter, 
 announcing the Ravenscrofts as likely to become 
 most desirable neighbours; and finding his wife 
 thus opportunely provided with companionship
 
 60 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 for the summer, he had no longer any scruple 
 in taking his departure, or prolonging his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 He went, — the Ravenscrofts came, — and 
 Matilda grew contented and happy. A new 
 existence dawned upon her in the society of 
 such kind and conciliating friends. Sir Richard's 
 return was again and again deferred; and she 
 was careful to find no fault with the postpone- 
 ment. Attributing to the false position in 
 which he was placed by his disproportioned 
 marriage, the fractiousness into which he had 
 latterly degenerated, she felt convinced that 
 change of scene and society would restore him 
 to his happier self. 
 
 The prolongation of his absence, however, 
 gradually softened, and at length obliterated all 
 recollection of his harshness. At the close of 
 three months' absence, she remembered him as 
 the impassioned lover of her youth, — the affec- 
 tionate husband of her early domestic life ; not as 
 the angry man resenting upon herself the irrita- 
 ting jokes of Tom Cruttenden. To the Ravens- 
 crofts, therefore, she described him in glowing
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 61 
 
 colours. His portrait announced him to them 
 as one of the handsomest men in England ; and 
 Matilda protested that the merits of his character 
 more than rivalled those of his portrait. 
 
 Their interest thus excited in his favour, the 
 strangers grew almost anxious at the frequent 
 postponement of his return ; more especially as, 
 whenever his long absence was alluded to at 
 Farleigh Castle, a significant glance was apt to 
 pass between Lady Emily and her brother, Lord 
 Selsdon ; the meaning of which was a mystery to 
 the new comers. Again and again did the 
 Baronet announce his immediate arrival, and 
 again and again disappoint them, Sophy 
 Ravenscroft often started up from her drawing 
 and ran to the window, in the notion that his 
 travelling-carriage was passing the cottage pal- 
 ings, on its way to the lodge-gate of the park ; 
 and when, on the day succeeding her ramble 
 with Lady Norman to the ruins of the forge at 
 Avonwell, no Sir Richard made his appear- 
 ance, they became alternately alarmed and in- 
 dignant. Sophy felt sure some accident had 
 occurred; Mrs. Ravenscroft, apprehending mis-
 
 62 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 chief still more serious, shook her head and said 
 nothing; and on learning the following evening 
 that Lady Norman was still alone, walked up 
 kindly with her daughter after dinner, to drink 
 tea uninvited at the Manor. 
 
 On their arrival, Matilda was in tears. Like 
 themselves, she had begun to apprehend that 
 something was amiss ; and finding her so tho- 
 roughly discouraged, the Ravenscrofts made it 
 their duty to cheer her spirits by reassurances. 
 An equinoctial gale was blowing so boisterously 
 as to render it probable that Sir Richard was 
 delayed at Calais, and necessary that Lady Nor- 
 man should order her carriage to be in readiness 
 at eleven, to convey back her friends across the 
 park ; and the inclemency of the weather with- 
 out had its usual effect within, of inducing them 
 to close sociably round the fire. Immediately 
 after tea, Sophia was persuaded to take her seat 
 at the piano ; Mrs. Ravenscroft drew forth her 
 ever ready knitting ; while Matilda placed her- 
 self for a moment on a low ottoman before the 
 fire, to caress a favourite pointer which was 
 basking in the warmth of the hearth.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 63 
 
 It happened that between the waltzes and 
 marches with which she was amusing them, Miss 
 Ravenscroft paused to relate a lively anecdote 
 connected with one of the pieces ; and her com- 
 panions were vying with each other in applause 
 and laughter at the mimicry with which the gay 
 girl enlivened her narrative, when, lo ! unob- 
 served by any of the party, the door flew open ; 
 and there, folded in his travelling cloak, stood 
 Sir Richard Norman, an unnoticed spectator of 
 their mirth !
 
 64 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Churlishness is a spurious kind of freedom. 
 
 Tacitus. 
 
 It is a trying thing, even to a good-tempered 
 man, to arrive at home from a cold, hurried, 
 hungry journey, and find everything proceeding 
 there as if the master were forgotten, — nothing in 
 readiness for him, — nothing distressed or disor- 
 ganized by his absence. 
 
 But Sir Richard Norman was not a good- 
 tempered man. Rendered arbitrary by early 
 independence, selfish by subsequent indulgence, 
 and fretful by the reminiscences of a wasteful, 
 dissolute youth, he had now his family disap- 
 pointments to aggravate former defects. He
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 65 
 
 had scarcely patience to conceal his indignation 
 at finding his wife indulging in the silly levity of 
 a school girl, when his protracted absence ought 
 to have filled her with grief and consternation. 
 Her recent letters to Paris had described her as 
 all anxiety for his return ; yet he was evidently 
 not cared for, — not expected, — not welcomed, — 
 as became the allegiance of a loving wife. 
 
 As these reflections passed rapidly through his 
 mind, he was half inclined to re-enter the car- 
 riage, and return to the place from whence he 
 came. But the spare form and grave counte- 
 nance of the Abbe O'Donnel met his view as he 
 turned to quit the room ; and immediately re- 
 covering his self-possession, he advanced majes- 
 tically into the circle, and claimed the greetings 
 of the astonished party. Too well-bred to ex- 
 hibit his dissatisfaction in presence of strangers, 
 he received with courtesy his introduction to 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft and her daughter ; but already 
 he had conceived against them a sort of jealous 
 antipathy. They were more familiar than him- 
 self with Lady Norman, — more at home than 
 himself at Selwood Manor.
 
 66 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 The Ravenscrofts, meanwhile, were thoroughly 
 embarrassed by knowing themselves to be in the 
 way. Some time must elapse before the car- 
 riage could be ready to take them home ; and 
 the constraint of manner arising from feeling 
 themselves de trop, was considered by Sir Richard 
 as intended to mark the gene inflicted upon the 
 happy little party by his presence. 
 
 Delayed by adverse winds, the travellers had 
 been in some peril, much perplexity ; and in the 
 fear of inflicting further uneasiness on Lady 
 Norman, had come direct from London without 
 even pausing for refreshment on the road. Sup- 
 per was to be prepared in haste ; when, as one 
 footman was busy carrying up Sir Richard's 
 baggage, and another conveying a message to 
 the stables to hasten the carriage, the butler took 
 care to be as long and awkward as possible in 
 the removal of the tea-things, to mark his sense 
 of injury at the labours thrust upon his unac- 
 customed shoulders. 
 
 Matilda, meanwhile, startled out of all self- 
 possession by the unexpected arrival of her hus- 
 band, found the words of welcome faltering,
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 67 
 
 between laughing and crying, on her lips. One 
 moment she was about to give way to her spon- 
 taneous delight in welcoming home her beloved 
 husband; the next, she was chilled back into 
 reserve by the clouds she beheld gathering upon 
 his louring brow. 
 
 Meanwhile, but for a conversation got up 
 between Mrs. Ravenscroft and the Abbe, the 
 least embarrassed of the party, a dead silence 
 must have ensued ; and it was a relief to Ma- 
 tilda when the carriage carried off her friends. 
 Sir Richard had already retired to his room to 
 change his damp dress, leaving her leisure for 
 the recovery of her spirits. But, alas ! further 
 mischiefs were in progress ! All expectation of 
 his arrival having ceased at so late an hour, no 
 preparations had been made for the travellers. 
 The only fire burning was in the small bed- 
 room in which, during his absence, Lady Nor- 
 man had taken refuge from the vastness of their 
 state apartment ; and accepting this accidental 
 circumstance as an intimation that he was to 
 inhabit it alone, he turned indignantly away.
 
 68 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 and ordered the camp-bed in his dressing-room 
 to be prepared for his use. 
 
 Deeply mortified by the coolness of his re- 
 ception, which he attributed to suspicions and 
 resentments such as had never entered the can- 
 did mind of Matilda, he snatched up the 
 gauntlet he supposed to have been thrown 
 down to him, and prepared to act on the de- 
 fensive. After supping tete-a-tete with the 
 Abbe in the chilly dining-room, where the fire 
 had been so imperfectly rekindled, that he re- 
 jected Lady Norman's proposal of bearing them 
 company, he retired to his chamber for the 
 night; and Matilda, after waiting some time 
 for his return to the saloon, took refuge silently 
 in her own. Before morning, the husband and 
 wife had taken their resolution. 
 
 " I understand the terms on which she has 
 vouchsafed my pardon !" mused Sir Richard. 
 *^ She knows all, — probably through the tale- 
 bearing of these Ravenscrofts ; and, too politic 
 to resent, is too much of a woman to pardon 
 nobly. Be it so ! — I will not stoop to en-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 69 
 
 treat a more generous extension of her forgive- 
 ness." 
 
 " Absence has completed the alienation com- 
 menced by indifference !" was, on the other 
 hand, Matilda's mournful meditation. " It is 
 something that he has deigned to return home, 
 and is disposed to live with me as a friend. I 
 will not aggravate his dislike by vexatious ex- 
 planations." 
 
 There was no longer confidence between 
 them ; and rarely does perfect unreserve subsist 
 between a Protestant and a Catholic. However 
 nearly united by the bonds of personal affec- 
 tion, a shadow of reserve on one part and mis- 
 trust on the other, darkens their attachment. 
 A sort of mysterious intercourse seemed esta- 
 blished between Sir Richard and his priest, 
 which Lady Norman vainly attempted to fa- 
 thom, and which she fancied implied an arriere 
 pensee in matters connected with herself. Aware 
 how vehemently the Abbe had argued with his 
 pupil against his purposed marriage, she con- 
 cluded that he was still her enemy ; and in their 
 moments of more confiding affection, had onge
 
 70 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 playfully remarked to her husband that, were 
 not divorce (the sacrament of adultery, as it is 
 powerfully defined by the Roman Catholics) 
 contrary to the canons of his church, she was 
 convinced the Abbe O'Donnel would sooner or 
 later persuade him to put away his Protestant 
 wife." 
 
 This feeling of mistrust was now powerfully 
 renewed. Sir Richard, after passing some 
 months abroad in the company of the Abbe, 
 had returned more cold, more care-worn, than 
 ever. Involuntarily she recalled to mind Tom 
 Cruttenden's remark at his last visit to the 
 Manor — " Mark my words, Matty, that you 
 will repent keeping that Jesuit of a priest about 
 your house, like a pet rat or tame snake. I tell 
 you, child, he would drown you in the Severn 
 to-morrow, if heretics could be made away with 
 without chance of a judge, jury, and con- 
 demning cap. I tell you to beware of Father 
 O'Donnel." 
 
 To resist or resent the Abbe's influence, 
 however, either now or at any other time was 
 she knew impossible ; and Matilda, with pa-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 71 
 
 tient humility, resigned herself to coming evil 
 as to evils past. She subdued her feelings suf- 
 ficiently to appear at breakfast the follovring 
 morning, with smiles upon her countenance 
 that sat upon her conscience like hypocrisy; 
 and tried to talk away her embarrassment by a 
 thousand unmeaning inquiries to the travellers, 
 concerning the diversions and habits of the 
 continent. 
 
 " You will shortly see and judge for your- 
 self," said Sir Richard abruptly, in reply. " Un- 
 less you have some reasonable objection to urge, 
 I intend to pass the winter on the continent." 
 
 Matilda's first emotion at this startling an- 
 nouncement was grief at the idea of a separation 
 from her friends; but she mastered it sufficiently 
 to reply, in pursuance of her system of con- 
 ciliation, — " Pass the winter abroad? — It will 
 give me the greatest pleasure ! — Where do you 
 think of settling? — When do you intend to set 
 off?"— 
 
 " In about a fortnight, — as soon as I have 
 completed my arrangements here for a long 
 absence. I wish to fix myself at Paris ; but I
 
 72 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 would not engage a residence there till I had 
 consulted your wishes on the subject." 
 
 Had Matilda at that moment glanced to- 
 wards the Abbe, whom she was secretly accus- 
 ing as the author of the plan, she might have 
 discerned, from the amazed and displeased ex- 
 pression of his countenance, that this was his 
 first intimation of the intentions of Sir Richard. 
 But her attention was riveted by the unexpected 
 courtesy of her husband's last remark. 
 
 " How kind of you," said she, " to make my 
 wishes a consideration ! — I am delighted at the 
 thoughts of visiting Paris ; and, at the time you 
 have fixed, shall be quite at your disposal for 
 the journey." 
 
 The Abbe was almost provoked by this ready 
 acquiescence, — Sir Richard almost disposed to 
 think her submissive tone must be ironical. 
 After finishing their breakfast in silence, the 
 rest of the day was devoted by the Baronet to 
 visiting his estate, and inquiring into the state of 
 affairs during his absence ; while the Abbe set 
 off into Lancashire on a journey connected with 
 his professional duties. Gladly would Matilda
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 73 
 
 have accompanied her husband on his round of 
 the farms to contribute her mite to the intel- 
 ligence afforded by the bailiff. But she hesi- 
 tated to make the proposal till his horse was 
 brought to the door ; . and having received no 
 formal invitation to ride v^^ith him, fancied her 
 presence might be importunate, and announced 
 her intention of setting off to visit the Ravens- 
 crofts. 
 
 " She might at least have spared me this one 
 day," thought Sir Richard, who, having ex- 
 pected her to propose riding, concluded that 
 she disdained even to affect an interest in his 
 pursuits. " She has been meeting these detest- 
 able people hourly for the last three months, 
 yet cannot withdraw her attention from them a 
 single morning in favour of her husband !" 
 
 All the contrition which had been softening 
 his heart on his way back to his long-neglected 
 home, hardened into adamant as he came to the 
 conclusion that Matilda had no heart ; that she 
 neither resented injuries, nor was sensible to the 
 concessions of repentant affection. , 
 
 Meanwhile, the startling intelligence con- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 veyed by Matilda to Selwood Cottage, was of 
 a nature to dispel the awkwardness anticipated 
 by the Ravenscrofts, in having to satisfy her 
 curiosity respecting the impression produced on 
 them by her husband. Her sudden departure 
 was an affliction too overpowering to leave them 
 leisure for embarrassment. 
 
 " Our arrival in Worcestershire, my dearest 
 Lady Norman, seems to have driven you out 
 of the country !" cried Mrs. Ravenscroft, sym- 
 pathizing with the tears which were already 
 falling profusely from the eyes of her daughter. 
 " To think that you should have remained 
 quietly stationary at Selwood for the last eleven 
 years, and take your departure the very first 
 winter of our arrival !" — 
 
 "It is indeed provoking,'* replied Matilda. 
 " I admit that, had Selwood borrowed no at- 
 traction from your settling so near us, I should 
 have been enchanted at the prospect of my tour. 
 But as it is— My dear Mrs. Ravenscroft," cried 
 she, suddenly interrupting herself — " supposing 
 you were to follow our example, and meet us 
 this winter at Paris ? — Sir Richard assures me
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 75 
 
 that nothing can exceed its brilliancy at the 
 present moment ; full of foreign troops, foreign 
 princes, foreign tourists; full of movement, 
 life, amusement, and excitement !" 
 
 " Too full, I fancy, for the prudent mother of 
 a giddy daughter," replied Mrs. Ravenscroft, 
 with a smile. " Two helpless women, like our- 
 selves, are best and safest in the quiet seclusion 
 of Selwood Cottage. — I should not feel justified 
 in so capriciously abandoning the home which 
 it has cost me both money and pains to adjust 
 to my liking." 
 
 '« If my indiscretion be the chief obstacle, dear 
 Mamma," cried Sophy, — who would willingly 
 have spent the winter in Nova Zembla, for the 
 sake of passing it with her friend, — " I solemnly 
 promise not to urge you into expense or dissi- 
 pation — not to fall in love with a foreigner, or 
 
 '« My dear, it is wholly out of the question," 
 interrupted Mrs. Ravenscroft, in a tone to 
 silence all further discussion ; for she had al- 
 ready seen enough of Sir Richard to feel per- 
 e2
 
 76 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 suaded that such an addition to his family circle 
 would be altogether unacceptable. 
 
 " At all events," persisted Matilda, satisfied 
 by this positive assertion that she had no chance 
 of beguiling her friends into an excursion to the 
 Continent, ''let me see you every day till my 
 departure, or you will have no opportunity of 
 forming an acquaintance with Sir Richard. 
 You must come and dine with us to-day." 
 
 " I fear it will not be in our power." 
 
 " Oh ! pray do not refuse me, now that I 
 have only ten days or a fortnight to remain in 
 Worcestershire. — Pray come and dine with us." 
 
 " My dear young friend," replied Mrs. 
 Ravenscroft, who, seeing in Matilda in spite 
 of her eight-and-twenty years a young and in- 
 experienced creature, could not refrain from 
 treating her like a daughter of her own, — " your 
 company belongs this day exclusively to your 
 husband. After so long a separation, you have 
 no right to withdraw your attention just now 
 from Sir Richard Norman.'' 
 
 Matilda blushed deeply at this admonition.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 77 
 
 She had too much delicacy to reveal the es- 
 trangement arising from her past and present 
 conjugal differences. The subject was too 
 sacred to be made a matter of feminine con- 
 fidence. She dared not admit how much she 
 dreaded a tete-a-t^te with Sir Richard, or how 
 deeply she had been wounded by his ungra- 
 ciousness. Matilda was of opinion that the an- 
 guish of spirit experienced by an injured wife is 
 to be entrusted only to Him from whom no 
 secrets are hid. 
 
 All that remained, therefore, was submission. 
 She returned home more dispirited than ever, 
 and sat down to dinner, almost trembling, with 
 one whose deportment, instead of being im- 
 proved by his sojourn in the city of the Graces, 
 afforded a strange example of the courtesy and 
 high-breeding she had been vaunting for the 
 last three months to her friends at Selwood 
 Cottage ! 
 
 " Did you go much into society at Paris ?" 
 she inquired, some minutes after they had taken 
 their seats at table, lest their taciturnity should 
 provoke the comments of the servants.
 
 78 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " I was seldom alone,'* was Sir Richard's 
 evasive reply. 
 
 *' But, did you attend any of the splendid 
 entertainments given by the Duke of Welling- 
 ton, or the foreign princes?" 
 
 " I believe I enumerated to you in my letters 
 nearly all my engagements." 
 
 " It must have been highly interesting to you 
 to visit your old college? — Did you find any 
 person surviving who was there in your 
 time?" 
 
 " Twenty years added to the lives of men of 
 twenty or thirty is no such awful lapse of time," 
 replied Sir Richard. " You seem to consider 
 me a very venerable personage ? " 
 
 " I ought not to do that^'' replied Matilda, 
 " since I am not much more than ten years 
 your junior." 
 
 " I have not forgotten that you are ten years 
 younger than myself," said Sir Richard, sneer- 
 ingly. '^ There was no occasion to recal the 
 circumstance to my recollection." 
 
 Matilda coloured with shame and confusion 
 at so unjust an inference. To disguise the an-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 79 
 
 noyance of her feelings, she recommenced her 
 enquiries concerning Paris. 
 
 " Did you find the public buildings much 
 handsomer than those of London ? " 
 
 '* That is a point so universally conceded,'' 
 replied her husband, still more ungraciously, 
 " that it is scarce worth bringing anew into 
 discussion." 
 
 " The French ladies, then," demanded Ma- 
 tilda, taking refuge, with deepening blushes, in 
 the first topic that presented itself; *<are they 
 so very superior to my own countrywomen as 
 I have heard them represented ? " 
 
 Sir Richard examined her a moment in 
 silence with a severe and scrutinizing eye. 
 " Decidedly superior," was his stern reply, con- 
 ceiving himself to be subjected to a process of 
 premeditated cross-examination. <* Not in mere 
 features, or complexion ; — but they exercise their 
 charm of manner and character too potently to 
 leave leisure for critical examination. Refined 
 in soul as in deportment, they are as companion- 
 able in private life as brilliant in public. A
 
 80 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 dull or ill-bred Frenchwoman is as great a 
 rarity as a well-bred or conversational English- 
 woman, — as you will shortly see and judge for 
 yourself." 
 
 Matilda was silenced. There was nothing in 
 her husband's words that conveyed absolute re- 
 proach to herself; but his looks and manner 
 gave personal significance to them, as an attack 
 upon her own uncompanionableness — her own 
 want of refinement. She saw that she had 
 given offence. It would be better to avoid all 
 further allusion to Paris. But in flying from 
 Scylla, she stumbled of course upon Cha- 
 rybdis. 
 
 " I sat some time with the Ravenscrofts this 
 morning," said she. " I tried to persuade them 
 to join us at dinner, but they would not hear 
 of it." 
 
 " I am sorry to have been the means of 
 frightening your friends out of the house," re- 
 plied her husband. " They seem to have been 
 passing the greater part of the last three months 
 under my roof; and the day of my return
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 81 
 
 hasten for the first time to decline your invi- 
 tation." 
 
 " Mrs. Ravenscroft fancied you might have 
 more to say to me, after being so long away, than 
 you would like to communicate before strangers," 
 said Matilda, in a faltering voice. 
 
 " Indeed ?" rejoined Sir Richard, with ano- 
 ther scrutinizing glance. '' The old lady seems 
 to be an adept in the mysteries of human nature. 
 I must be on my guard." 
 
 '' My friend Sophy is inconsolable at the 
 thoughts of our leaving Worcestershire. Our 
 absence this winter will make a sad difference at 
 Selwood," observed Lady Norman, after ano- 
 ther awkward pause. 
 
 " It was judicious to select Selwood, if they 
 were looking for a sociable neighbourhood," 
 cried Norman, with a sneer. *' If they wanted 
 balls and card-parties, why not settle at Chel- 
 tenham or Bath ? " 
 
 " I tried to persuade them to an excursion to 
 Paris." 
 
 " To Paris ? — But they have no idea, I sup- 
 E 3
 
 82 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 pose, of any such wildgoose expedition," re- 
 joined Sir Richard, in a tone plainly indicating 
 an intention to remain at the Manor House, 
 should her answer be affirmative. 
 
 " None whatever. Mrs. Ravenscroft does not 
 think it prudent to leave home so soon after 
 settling here. Besides, she will not be quite 
 solitary. There are the Lynches ; there is Far- 
 leigh Castle, " 
 
 " With eight miles of bad road intervening, 
 Farleigh Castle is likely to be a vast acquisition 
 to Selwood Cottage !" 
 
 " The Ravenscrofts do not regard the dis- 
 tance. I could almost fancy it less than formerly. 
 I have dined four or five times this summer with 
 the Farleighs." 
 
 " They must have thought it singular that 
 yoM, who invariably make excuses when I am 
 here, should seize the opportunity of my absence 
 to be so vastly intimate !" 
 
 " Lady Farleigh probably concluded that, 
 finding my home less attractive, I was glad to 
 seek amusement elsewhere."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 83 
 
 "A flattering interpretation for her^ cer- 
 tainly," cried Sir Richard, overlooking the in- 
 terpretation so flattering to himself. 
 
 " Besides, '^ continued Matilda, assuming some 
 spirit when she found herself systematically 
 browbeaten, " I was only prevented by my 
 natural shyness from visiting at Farleigh Castle ; 
 and my terrors of Lady Farleigh's hauteur and 
 Lady Emily's reserve vanished the moment I 
 found myself familiarized in the house by ac- 
 companying the Ravenscrofts. Mrs. Ravens- 
 croft, you know, is nearly related to Lady 
 Farleigh." 
 
 " I should not have imagined that Lady Nor- 
 man of Selwood Manor needed the patronage of 
 a Mrs. Ravenscroft to render her company 
 acceptable," said Sir Richard, haughtily. << My 
 father and grandfather were the intimate friends 
 of those of Lord Farleigh, and your indolence 
 has alone prevented my keeping up an intimacy 
 with the family. You used to complain so bit- 
 terly of the coldness of Lady Farleigh and Lady 
 Emily."
 
 84 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 *' Till lately, I misunderstood their characters. 
 The cordial, unreserved manners of my own 
 humble sphere had not prepared me for the un- 
 demonstrative calmness of theirs. I fancied 
 them indifferent and repulsive whenr they were 
 shewing me the quiet kindness habitual to them. 
 Mrs. Ravenscroft taught me to see all this." 
 
 " You consider Mrs. Ravenscroft, then, better 
 skilled than your husband in the habits of good 
 society ? — You never condescended to ask in- 
 struction of me /'' 
 
 " I might not wish to remind you of my unfit- 
 ness to appear in the world as the representative 
 of your honours." 
 
 Sir Richard's silence seemed to reject every 
 occasion afforded him by his wife to interpose 
 some conciliating word. 
 
 " You were aware when you married me," 
 she continued, stung to courage by his unkind- 
 ness, " that I had never lived in what you call 
 the world. The sphere into which you intro- 
 duced me was full of mysteries and perplexities 
 to my simple comprehension. All you wished
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 85 
 
 me to understand, I thought you would explain 
 unasked." 
 
 " I am sorry, then, to have left so heavy a 
 task of instruction to Mrs. Ravenscroft," said 
 Norman, with a contemptuous smile. 
 
 *' There are some lessons which a woman 
 learns more readily from a woman," said Ma- 
 tilda ; '' particularly those which she considers 
 beneath the dignity of a man." 
 
 And the vexation of having to defend herself 
 thus vehemently, suffused the usually delicate 
 cheeks of Lady Norman with so radiant a tinge, 
 that her eyes borrowed fresh lustre from her 
 bloom; and as she shook back the clustering 
 ringlets from her face. Sir Richard was struck 
 by the extreme loveliness of her countenance. 
 Renovated by a cheerful summer of exercise and 
 independence, Matilda looked younger and 
 more captivating than ever to eyes recently 
 habituated to the olive-hued charms of the 
 French ladies, and the mahogany complexions 
 of the peasantry. 
 
 When she quitted him to order coffee in the
 
 86 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 drawing-room, Sir Richard sat musing uneasily 
 over the probability that she had been much 
 admired at Farleigh Castle, and the certainty 
 that she would command the worship of the bril- 
 liant coteries of Paris.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 87 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The time was, once, when thou un-urg'd wouldst vow 
 That never words were music to thine ear. 
 That never object pleasing to thine eye, 
 That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
 That never meat sweet-savour'd to thy taste. 
 Unless I spake, lookM, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. 
 How comes it, then, my husband, oh ! how comes it, 
 That thou art thus estranged from thyself? 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Conscious, perhaps, of the ungracious part 
 he had borne in their dinner colloquy, Sir 
 Richard, on repairing to the book-room, where 
 they were accustomed to pass their winter even- 
 ings, affected a vehement anxiety to examine 
 two numbers of the Edinburgh and Quarterly 
 Reviews, which had appeared during his ab- 
 sence, containing valuable articles upon Eman-
 
 88 THE HEIR OF SELWOCD. 
 
 cipation, from the leading dialecticians of the 
 day. 
 
 He could not, however, pass over without an 
 ironical compliment to the literary taste of Lady 
 Norman the fact that their pages were still 
 uncut. Then, having taken the folder in his 
 hand, he ensconced himself in his reading -chair 
 beside his reading-lamp, with his foot on his 
 reading-stool, and justified her indifference by 
 dozing through the first half-dozen pages of the 
 first article, and falling sound asleep over the 
 remainder ! 
 
 The moment Matilda became convinced by 
 his attitude that he was really lost in slumber, 
 she laid down the work with which she had 
 been striving to beguile her uneasy thoughts, 
 and gazed unembarrassed upon her husband. 
 It was the first time she had steadily contem- 
 plated Sir Richard since his return ; and she 
 was struck by the havoc which three short 
 months had effected in his appearance. There 
 were lines of age about the eyes, a certain hol- 
 lowness of brow, and gray hairs scattered among 
 the raven tresses shading his temples, which she
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 89 
 
 had never noticed there before. Though ad- 
 vancing towards forty, Sir Richard had hitherto 
 preserved a singularly youthful appearance. 
 There was now a cast of care and anxiety in 
 his face. It was impossible to look upon him 
 without perceiving that the time of his absence 
 must have been an unquiet one. Persons more 
 experienced in the world might have detected 
 the withering touch of remorse in those pre- 
 mature indications. But Matilda had a soul 
 above suspicion ; she knew that other men had 
 their vices and foibles ; that gambling, libertin- 
 ism, or intemperance, might impair their for- 
 tunes, their reputations, their peace of mind ; 
 but nothing of this kind, she fancied, could 
 affix a stigma upon the noble name of Sir 
 Richard Norman ! 
 
 Few women, however sagacious, however 
 versed in the ways of the world, bring their 
 knowledge or experience to bear upon the in- 
 cidents of their married life. Elsewhere shrewd 
 and farsighted, there they are invariably dupes ! 
 For the happiness of the world, it is ordained 
 that the heart, rather than the mind, shall in-
 
 90 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 stigate our judgment of those with whom we live 
 in intimate communion. 
 
 Still, there was sufficient to distress the gentle 
 heart of Lady Norman, in the supposition that 
 her husband had been unhappy. The moment 
 such an idea entered her mind, she would wil- 
 lingly have entreated his pardon for even the 
 slight show of resentment she had hazarded in 
 reply to his animadversions. She longed to 
 creep to his side as formerly, to watch for his 
 awaking ; then entreat to know the subject 
 of his griefs, that she might divide the weight of 
 the burthen. But some womanly instinct warned 
 her to forbear ! The peculiar position in which 
 they stood forbad, on her part, all advances. 
 She must wait patiently till it pleased him to 
 vouchsafe his confidence. 
 
 Her patience, however, was fated to be put to 
 the test. Day followed day, but not a step to- 
 wards the restoration of a better understanding ! 
 Her time was passed between solacing the afflic- 
 tion caused at Selwood Cottage by her ap- 
 proaching departure, and concealing from the 
 observation of her friends the surliness of the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 91 
 
 man she had been so long vaunting to them as 
 a mirror of intelligence and amiability, who had 
 returned home only to break up the comfort 
 of the little party. 
 
 It was impossible, however, for the Ravens- 
 crofts to deceive themselves as to the unavowed 
 uneasiness of their charming friend. 
 
 '* So we are to lose our neighbours at the 
 Manor House this winter?" said Lady Emily 
 Farleigh, when visiting the cottage with her 
 brother, after riding over to offer their adieux 
 to the Normans. " You will miss them sadly ; 
 but we shall profit by their absence; you will 
 be obliged to have recourse twice as often for 
 society to the Castle." 
 
 " I should deeply regret their departure,*' 
 replied Mrs. Ravenscroft, " but that Lady 
 Norman will benefit by the change. Poor 
 thing ! — she has seen too little of the world to 
 be immured for life at the Manor." — 
 
 " And with that sullen disagreeable man," 
 added Sophy, breaking off the conversation in 
 which she had been engaged with Lord Selsdon.
 
 92 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " I am convinced she leads a wretched life with 
 him!" 
 
 " Never pronounce hastily upon the domestic 
 secrets of married people," remonstrated her 
 sager mother. " Matilda could not be so 
 strongly attached to a man who was perma- 
 nently unkind to her." 
 
 " Norman is a fine, gentlemanly fellow," 
 added Lord Selsdon ; " a little reserved and 
 stately, but full of honourable feeling." 
 
 *' Never pronounce hastily upon the private 
 life of a man you know only at battues and 
 justice-meetings !" cried Lady Emily, parodying 
 with a smile the lesson of Mrs. Ravenscroft. 
 " Till you arrived here," she added, turning 
 towards her friends, *' and drew out the real 
 disposition of Lady Norman, we had totally 
 mistaken her. Everything at the Manor was 
 so dull, so insipid, that we set her down as 
 either a stupid or a selfish woman. All the 
 faults of the house were imputed to the parvenue 
 wife ! — But now we have discovered how plea- 
 sant she can be in her husband's absence — how
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 93 
 
 sociable — how ingratiating, — we are beginning 
 to see where the fault lies, and to fear she must 
 lead a miserable life !" 
 
 " Miserable, indeed !" reiterated Sophy, with 
 the deepest sympathy. " A husband absorbed 
 in his own pride and self consequence !" 
 
 " Pride is often used as a more civil word 
 than ill-temper," said Lord Selsdon, laughing. 
 " My father is a proud man in the vulgar sense 
 of the word ; but there is not a better tempered 
 in the kingdom. Not a member of his family 
 or household ever heard an angry word 
 from his lips. Sir Richard Norman is not 
 proud, or he would not have married a manu- 
 facturer's daughter; but I think him likely to 
 be a cross husband, and overbearing master." 
 
 '' Did Lady Norman tell you how long they 
 think of remaining on the Continent ? " in- 
 quired Mrs. Ravenscroft, apprehensive that lier 
 daughter, thus encouraged, might give vent to 
 her feelings of dislike towards Sir Richard. 
 
 " We had very little conversation with her. 
 At first. Sir Richard was present, who is 
 always a restraint; and before we had been
 
 94 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 ten minutes in the house, her father arrived on 
 an unexpected visit, v^^hen we left them in haste, 
 not to be an interruption to the interview. We 
 felt that she must wish to be alone with her 
 father." 
 
 Little did Lady Norman's young friends sus- 
 pect that her interviews with her father were 
 becoming almost as unsatisfactory as those with 
 her husband. Shrinking from the interroga- 
 tions suggested by old Cruttenden to Mr. Maule, 
 Matilda's natural timidity (magnified into a 
 foible by the despotism of Sir Richard) rendered 
 all social intercourse a tax upon her sincerity. 
 The old gentleman's unexpected journey proved 
 to have been, as usual, suggested by the inju- 
 rious intermeddling of his partner. 
 
 " Ay, ay, I knew how it would be, — I thought 
 it would end so," — was Tom's exclamation, on 
 learning from Mr. Maule the intended depar- 
 ture of the Normans for the Continent. 
 
 " No one can have foreseen anything of the 
 sort," replied the old gentleman, fractiously. 
 " No one would have scouted the idea more than 
 yourself, had I predicted to you last winter that
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 95 
 
 peace would be restored to Europe within 
 twelve months, — Nap caged up in the island of 
 Elba, — and the English free to come and go in 
 foreign parts." — 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of Nap, — I wasn't thinking 
 of the island of Elbow, — my thoughts were nearer 
 home," — replied Cruttenden. " I was recollect- 
 ing that, when you first told me of this precious 
 son-in-law of yours being a Papist, I saw, as 
 plainly as I see it now, that poor Matty was 
 fated to be perverted out of her religious prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 " Matty perverted out of her religious prin- 
 ciples?" — cried Maule, lowering his spectacles, 
 and peering over them in amazement. " What 
 can have put such a dreadful suspicion into 
 your head ? " 
 
 " If the thing an*t done already, 'twon't be 
 long a-doing. When the poor lass gets smug- 
 gled over to France, and finds herself sur- 
 rounded by nothing but Capuchins and Jesuits, 
 a-telling their beads all day long, — smothered 
 with incense, — and bothered out of her right 
 mind, — what chance is there of her resisting ? —
 
 96 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Pve heard tell of the most awful means being used 
 to convert poor, weak women, who thought 
 proper to adhere to their own church." 
 
 " Centuries ago, perhaps,'' interrupted Eliza- 
 beth Maule, who was presiding at the tea-table 
 of the partners. ** But the days of persecution 
 are past ; or if they still exist, surely the Catho- 
 lics have as much cause to complain of the Pro- 
 testants as the Protestants of the Catholics." 
 
 " Ay, ay, in this country, thank God, the 
 church has still the best of it !" cried Crutten- 
 den, with one of his knowing winks. " We 
 take care to keep the beggarly priests where they 
 ought to be. — No sneaking Jesuits ruling the 
 state, and devouring the substance of old Eng- 
 land. — Church and king and Protestant suc- 
 cession, say I." — 
 
 '* And nobody gainsays you, Mr. Crutten- 
 den," resumed Elizabeth, a girl of sense and 
 spirit, who sometimes raised the standard of 
 revolt against the domestic tyrant of the house. 
 " But that is no reason why you should have 
 always prevented my father from allowing me 
 to accept Matilda's invitations, or why you
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 97 
 
 should try to excite his alarm just now, because 
 she is desirous of seeing something of the 
 world." 
 
 " With respect to keeping you quietly at 
 home when you want to be gadding, Miss 
 Betsy," replied old Tom, in wrathful indigna- 
 tion, '' I admit that I haye taken more pains to 
 keep you out of mischief than you are hkely to 
 thank me for. But as to standing by unmoved 
 when I see poor Matty about to be carried off 
 to pass the rest of her days with that villanous 
 nation of cut-throats, the French, I can't recon- 
 cile it to my conscience. — There's no saying 
 what may happen to her when once she gets 
 immured among the Papist wretches the other 
 side of the water. — " 
 
 " 'Tis a sad business, from beginning to end," 
 sighed old Maule, who was now seriously 
 alarmed. 
 
 " Surely, Papa," cried Elizabeth, " you do 
 not consider my sister in danger, under the pro- 
 tection of her own husband, in a country of 
 which the police is said to be the most vigilant 
 in Europe? — " 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 <i How do you know, Miss Betsy, that her 
 husband mayn't be the worst enemy she has?" 
 demanded Cruttenden, in a mysterious voice. 
 
 « Because my sister speaks of him in her let- 
 ters with respect and affection; and because 
 Mrs. Wickset assures me that Sir Richard bears 
 the highest character in his own neighbour- 
 hood." 
 
 « Madam Wickset !— What should she know 
 of character, unless of a housemaid or footboy? 
 I tell you that Sir Richard's great great grand- 
 father was nigh being strung up as an accom- 
 plice in the Gunpowder Plot.— Tis written in 
 history, and any one may read it there that 
 likes ; and 'twill never surprise me to find that 
 Matty's husband and his old Jesuit of a chap- 
 lain have been following in the same steps ; and 
 if they've any such scheme in their head, the 
 first person they're likely to make away with, 
 will be the nearest Protestant they can lay hands 
 
 on !"— 
 
 « This is really too absurd !" cried Elizabeth, 
 perceiving that the old gentleman was ready to 
 hazard any extravagant accusation to stir up the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 99 
 
 wrath of her father against Norman. ''As if 
 in these times of pubhcity, — of newspapers and 
 posthorses, — such crimes could be committed 
 with impunity. Matilda, at eight-and-twenty, 
 is not likely to be silenced like a child." 
 
 " Silenced, indeed ! — If you'd ever set foot at 
 Manor House, Miss Betsy, you'd know, as we 
 do, that the poor lass daren't say her soul's her 
 own. — See what influence he has over her mind ! 
 — She has long ceased to care the scratch of her 
 little finger for the whole lot of her family packed 
 together. Nevertheless, she's your father's child 
 still, though an imdutiful ; — and I maintain that 
 'tis his business to prevent her being spirited off 
 out of the country ! — " 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Cruttenden, my sister may be 
 allowed a little excursion of pleasure without ex- 
 citing all these ridiculous suppositions !" cried 
 Elizabeth, angrily. 
 
 " I see nothing ridiculous in the matter, Miss 
 Betsy. 'Tis my duty as an honest man to put 
 your father on his guard." If once his daughter 
 settles in Papist parts, there's an end of poor 
 Matty. I dare say Sir Richard means no harm 
 r2
 
 100 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 beforehand. I dare say the journey is only one 
 of the blessed economy-schemes which cause 
 people of quality to starve abroad upon soup 
 meagre, and fancy they are living cheap. I'll 
 tell you how we'll settle it, Maule. You must 
 come down with something handsome, and post 
 over to Selwood to make them give up the plan ; 
 and as far as a few hundreds of my own will 
 help the matter, they're heartily at Matty's ser- 
 vice. 'Twill only be so much the less in young 
 Crutt's legacy -duty hereafter." 
 
 Such were the judicious motives which had 
 brought Mr. Maule uninvited into Worcester- 
 shire; and having no time to waste in circum- 
 locution, he came straight to the point with Sir 
 Richard Norman. 
 
 " I don't like the thoughts of Matty's going 
 to settle among Papists and foreigners," said 
 he, abruptly. "Tom Cruttenden's of opinion, 
 Sir Richard, that, may be, you are going out of 
 the kingdom in such a jiffey only for want of a 
 little ready money. If that's the case, name the 
 sum you mean to economize in the course of 
 the next twelve months, and here's a blank
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 101 
 
 cheque on my banker ready to be filled up with 
 the amount." 
 
 *' There are other motives in the world, Sir, 
 than pounds, shillings, and pence, — whatever you 
 may think to the contrary !" — cried Sir Richard, 
 justly indignant at the liberty taken with his 
 proceedings. " I trust I. am free to regulate my 
 family affairs without reference to the whims of 
 Mr. Cruttenden, of whose name I hope to hear 
 no further mention in my house. — It is my de- 
 termination, * meanwhile, that Lady Norman 
 shall embark with me next week for the conti- 
 nent ; and reside with me there so long as may 
 suit our mutual convenience and pleasure." 
 
 Fortunately for old Maule's forbearance, Sir 
 Richard quitted the room after giving utterance 
 to this terrific denunciation ; and it was to Ma- 
 tilda alone that the father unfolded the tale of 
 his terrors, and poured forth his vials of wrath. 
 
 *' There is no longer peace or confidence 
 under this roof, Matty," said the old gentleman, 
 in a piteous tone ; '' such glances never passed 
 betwixt me and your poor, dear, dead and gone 
 mother, as I saw cast at you just now by Sir
 
 102 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Richard Norman. God send you safe through it 
 all. If the marriage were to do again, Joseph 
 Maule would cut off his right hand sooner than 
 give you to that hard-hearted, arrogant man." 
 
 '* Then you would be guilty of an act of cruel 
 kindness," cried Matilda, distracted between 
 the fury of her husband and the resentment of 
 her father ; " for of all men living, Norman is 
 the only one I could regard with the affection 
 and duty of a wife." 
 
 " You are telling a monstrous untruth, either 
 to me or yourself, child," exclaimed old Maule, 
 with indignation. "Accustomed to deceive others, 
 you have begun to deceive yourself. I remem- 
 ber the day when a falsehood would have ex- 
 pired upon your lips. But times are sadly 
 altered now, Matty — times are sadly altered ; 
 and, as Tom Cruttenden says, there'll be a worse 
 before there's a better. I'd fain have had you 
 meet it here, among your own kith and kin. 
 But 'twas not to be. You must take your own 
 way. You've deserted your father's house, your 
 father's faith ; you must now desert your father's 
 country. My blessing will go with you, Lady
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 103 
 
 Norman, wherever you be. But mark my words 
 at parting, — you will live to repent in sackcloth 
 and ashes the day you gave yourself up to the 
 influence of one whose heart is as hard as a 
 stone, and whose soul the property of his priest." 
 
 Matilda trembled as she listened. There was 
 an earnestness in her father's manner which she 
 had never noticed before. She almost fancied 
 that the old man's eyes were suffused with tears. 
 In vain did she strive by the tenderest protesta- 
 tions to soothe his irritation and compose his 
 spirits ; the main cause of his anxiety was not 
 to be removed — she would not undertake to 
 dissuade Sir Richard from passing the winter 
 abroad. 
 
 *' In that case, my errand here is at an end," 
 was the old gentleman's fretful reply. " I have 
 fulfilled my duty as a father; a daughter's duty 
 seems to concern you no longer. Farewell, 
 Matty ! — farewell, my unhappy child ! — Let us 
 hear of your welfare ; your sisters will take care 
 that you hear of ours in return." 
 
 The old gentleman departed in his ire, and 
 Matilda resigned herself to her sorrow. Brief
 
 104 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 as was his visit, it had served to aggravate the 
 troubles of his daughter. Everybody seemed 
 leagued against her. The Ravenscrofts embit- 
 tered her departure by their tenderness ; Sir 
 Richard and her own family by their cruelty. 
 She was glad when the day arrived for a change 
 of scene, air, and reflections.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD- 105 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 N'est on pas las d ambitious vulgaires, 
 De sots pares de pompeux sobriquets, 
 
 D'abus, d'erreurs, de rapines, de guerres, 
 De laquais-rois, de peuples de laquais ? — 
 
 Beranger. 
 
 Various are the sonnets that have been en- 
 dited by the home-sick and muse-sick of these 
 metrical times, in honour of the chfFs of Dover, 
 and the emotions to which their aspect gives rise. 
 It may be doubted, however, whether, of the 
 favoured few not overpowered in quitting their 
 native land by sickness of a less poetical de- 
 scription, there exist many who experience any 
 other feeling than satisfaction in quitting Eng- 
 land for the Continent. 
 
 f3
 
 106 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Lady Norman, at least, was one of the fortunate 
 majority, whose cares seem to diminish with 
 every mile of the onward journey. Sir Richard 
 became less irritable from the moment of quit- 
 ting home. The estrangement between him 
 and Matilda was less apparent to themselves 
 and others ; and on perceiving that the delight 
 expressed by his wife in the succession of novel 
 objects presented to her view was genuine and 
 unaffected, he resumed his ease in her presence. 
 Naturally light-hearted, Matilda, in the midst 
 of new scenes and strange faces, regained the 
 expansive joyousness of her better days; and 
 satisfied that she was not acting a part, he too 
 ceased to be an actor. 
 
 They arrived in Paris, cheerful in each 
 other's company, prepared to be amused and to 
 amuse. A gay little hotel, '* entre cour etjardin^^ 
 was engaged for them in the Rue de Provence, 
 where a separate suite of apartments being as- 
 signed to the Abbe O'Donnel, Lady Norman, 
 was to be relieved from the constraint of his 
 presence. Paris abounded that winter in gay 
 society, culled from the wealthy of every arlsto-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 107 
 
 cracy in Europe ; and independent of Sir 
 Richard's high connexions among the Roman- 
 catholic nobility, of whom numbers had hastened 
 to the Continent, Matilda was furnished with a 
 variety of letters of introduction, by the Countess 
 of Farleigh, to French families of distinction with 
 whom she had formed an intimacy during her 
 visit to Paris after the Peace of Amiens. 
 
 Her ladyship's friendships, however, lay chiefly 
 among the legitimate nobility of the ancien 
 regime ; and the Normans considered themselves 
 fortunate that accident had secured them awo- 
 ther avenue into circles whereon the setting sun 
 of the glory of Napoleon still cast a refulgent 
 reflection ; and from which the English, as his 
 fiercest enemies, were scrupulously excluded. 
 A letter from Mrs. Ravenscroft to Admiral 
 Guerchant, who, as prisoner of war to her gal- 
 lant husband, had incurred obligations to the 
 family, ensured a cordial welcome to Matilda. 
 Under the auspices of the Admiral's excellent 
 wife, she was as frankly initiated into the most 
 secret sanctuaries of Bonapartism as under the 
 hand and seal of Lady Farleigh into the clique
 
 108 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 of ultras and noble emigrants regilding the tar- 
 nished royalty of the chateau. 
 
 On all sides, the Normans, rich, young, hand- 
 some, and agreeable, were hailed as additions to 
 society. The English were still novelties in 
 Paris. They had not yet worn out the patience 
 of their hosts by the ostentation of their pomps 
 and vanities, their vast superciliousness, their 
 narrowness of mind ; and among the London 
 beauties and celebrities contending that winter 
 for distinction, not one obtained a more heart- 
 felt tribute of admiration from the French, than 
 the fair, gentle, unpretending Lady Norman. 
 
 Matilda had none of the hard, repellent, self- 
 sufficiency of a woman of fashion, — no strong 
 prejudices, no personal conceit ; and her readi- 
 ness in adopting the hours, customs, and fashions 
 of a society (the first of any magnitutle in 
 which she had moved) passed for a virtue with 
 the Parisians. She was simplicity itself; sim- 
 plicity, which, of all qualifications, is the most ac- 
 ceptable to persons highly artificial ; and just as 
 the plaudits of the world are known to develop 
 the talents of a timid actor, the favour with
 
 THE HEIR or SELWOOD. 109 
 
 which she was received tended to heighten the 
 charms of her manners and conversation. Even 
 Sir Richard was startled at the display of 
 youthful loveliness to which habit had lately 
 rendered him insensible, enhanced as it was by 
 the elegance of a Parisian toilet, and animated 
 by the rapturous admiration of Parisian society. 
 The English beauties were amazed to find their 
 pretentious charms eclipsed by those of a person 
 so obscure. Already, she was exciting jealousy 
 among those accustomed to excite the jealousy 
 of others. 
 
 «' What a lovely creature is that Lady Nor- 
 man !*' — observed Lady Arthur D. to Lady 
 Dawlish, — one of the most exclusive of English 
 exclusives, just then established in all the pride 
 of Tory favour at the Tuileries, in rivalship 
 with the Grammonts, Polignacs, Damas, Duras, 
 Blacas, and all the other asses returned from 
 emigration to renew the odiousness of favouritism 
 in the eyes of the nation. 
 
 " Lady Catherine Norman, you mean^ — my 
 cousin Roscrea's daughter V 
 
 " No, — I mean simply Lady Norman."
 
 110 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 '' What Lady Norman?"— 
 
 " The wife of a Worcestershire baronet. Did 
 you not notice her last night, at Madame de 
 Montmorency's ball ? So much delicacy of com- 
 plexion — so much freshness — so much taste!" 
 
 " Never heard of the woman in my life. — " 
 
 " But you have seen her, my dear Lady Davv- 
 lish. — Your son was trying to persuade her to 
 waltz last night " 
 
 " Frank Villiers try to persuade anybody to 
 do anything ! — " 
 
 '' — when the duchess came and carried him off 
 hi triumph." 
 
 " I remember seeing something fair in a white 
 satin dress, that looked like an Englishwoman, 
 to which Villiers was smiling and shewing his 
 teeth ; but her face was new to me, and I asked 
 no questions. New English faces do not suit 
 me, unless of girls in their first season. One 
 knows every one one ou^ht to know, — one knows 
 every one worth knowing.'^ 
 
 '* Lady Norman, I assure you, is particularly 
 worth knowing. Elle fait fareur /" 
 
 " Exactly, — that is just the sort of thing one 
 
 \
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. Ill 
 
 hates, — an effort, a scene, an event. In my 
 opinion, everything out of the common way is a 
 siipplice.^^ 
 
 " There is nothing out of the way in Lady 
 Norman. She would be a great acquisition to 
 your clique,** 
 
 " It is my rule to make no new acquaintance. 
 Where can she have lived all her life, that 
 one never heard of her ?" 
 
 *' In an old family seat in the country ; — a very 
 different thing, you know, from moving in a bad 
 set in town ! — *' 
 
 " They are people of family, then ? — What 
 relation to the man who married my relation, 
 Lady Catherine?" 
 
 " Cousin, or something of that sort, I sup- 
 pose ; for they are all Roman Catholics to- 
 gether." - 
 
 "Catholics? — Indeed! — Persons of some 
 standing, perhaps, in their way. — I had a vague 
 sort of unfavourable impression about a Sir 
 Richard and Lady Norman. I fancied there was 
 something o^ parvenu in the case. However, my 
 dear Lady Arthur, since they are connected
 
 112 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 with Lady Catherine, and you are good enough 
 to interest yourself about them, you may bring 
 them to my Thursday evenings." 
 
 *« They are not the sort of people to be taken 
 anywhere. Sir Richard is armed cap-a-pee in 
 the punctilious pride of a country baronet. The 
 first time we all meet at the Chateau, I will pre- 
 sent Lady Norman to you ; you can send cards, 
 et c'est une affaire faite.'' 
 
 " They are not worth half so much trouble," 
 replied Lady Dawlish, listlessly ; " but just as 
 you please. One likes to have a few decent 
 English faces at one's house, to shew to the 
 French by way of apology for the monstrous 
 creatures calling themselves our country people, 
 who beset their streets and galleries.'' 
 
 Little suspecting on what terms her acquaint- 
 ance was accepted, Lady Norman submitted to 
 be presented to the fashionable Countess by 
 Lady Arthur D., to whom she had brought a 
 billet of introduction from Lady Emily Far- 
 leigh ; and, thus stamped current among the 
 elite by being seen in conversation for some 
 seconds with a woman who, like a drum, made
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 113 
 
 a noise in the world proportionate to her hol- 
 lowness and emptiness, she was courted on all 
 sides by her compatriots. 
 
 It was surprising, meanwhile, with what readi- 
 ness Sir Richard — at home so reserved — lent 
 himself to the tide of popularity and distinction 
 now setting in upon them. Every night, save 
 those devoted to the Italian opera, they joined 
 some brilliant assembly. He encouraged her 
 to gaiety and dissipation. He reminded her 
 that, in Paris, she was deprived of the fireside 
 comforts cheering the seclusion of Selwood 
 Manor ; and needed no reminding that, in Paris, 
 he was safe from the mortifications arising from 
 his political annihilation. 
 
 Between breakfast and dinner, the Normans 
 seldom met. Sir Richard probably devoted his 
 mornings to literary researches or the public 
 monuments of the capital. But Matilda had 
 many intimate associates to beguile the moments 
 of his absence ; among whom were his relation, 
 Mrs. Lockwood, a fashionable beauty on the 
 wane, devoted to the mysteries of the toilet ; and 
 Madame la Comtesse de Montrond, a fashion-
 
 114 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 able intrigante on the ascendant, devoted to the 
 mysteries of the state. By the former she was 
 constantly compelled to consultations with Leroy 
 and Victorine, Herbault, Lubin, or Nattier; 
 by the latter, pinned mercilessly down, to be 
 cross-examined for the political on dits, which 
 it was the honourable cue of Madame de. Mon- 
 trond to gather from the distinguished foreign 
 circles in Paris, for the benefit or recreation of 
 Louis le Gros. 
 
 While saluted by the fashion-mongers of the 
 Faubourg St. Honore as la perle des perles, — la 
 blonde des blondes, — the darling of all hearts and 
 eyes, — Matilda's merits obtained higher favour 
 amid the dignified sobriety of the Faubourg St. 
 Germain, than those of her pseudo-patronesses. 
 Lady Dawlish and Lady Arthur D. Matilda 
 could converse, which the latter could not ; Ma- 
 tilda could listen, which the former could 7iot ; — 
 she was a more welcome companion than either 
 in a society, in which la causette is the leading 
 business of life. 
 
 But though dazzled for a time by the glanc- 
 'm% of the fire-flies of fashion, and the out-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 115 
 
 spread peacock-tails of aristocratic grandeur, 
 Matilda was often glad to escape from both, to 
 the old-fashioned hotel in Place Royale, to 
 which Admiral Guerchant had retired, on the 
 downfal of the Emperor and the cessation of 
 his ministerial functions, with his homely 
 parents — the type of his original obscurity, — 
 his worthy, active, intelligent wife — the type of 
 his energetic career, — and his accomplished 
 children — the type of the honours to which it 
 had elevated his old age. — Though suffering 
 deeply from the ruin of their cause and pros- 
 pects, the Guerchants maintained their habits 
 of cheerfulness and modest hospitality. Matilda 
 found collected round their fire-side, the poli- 
 tical, military, and literary celebrities of those 
 gorgeous times ; the savans, whose efforts had 
 been fostered by the liberality of Napoleon ; the 
 artists and heroes, whose achievements had 
 been crowned by his hand; rays still emanating 
 from the brightness of his glory. She rejoiced 
 in meeting these people, in hearing them con- 
 verse, in finding them render the tribute of 
 honour and affection to the fallen man, whom
 
 116 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 it was the pitiful policy of England to vilify 
 and depreciate ; and, whether as regarded its 
 exemplary domestic union or its attraction as 
 a rendezvous of the illustrious, the Hotel Guer- 
 chant was a spot from which Lady Norman 
 never returned without interest and edification. 
 
 It was there only that she heard Frenchwomen 
 converse without affectation, and saw them ob- 
 tain from the opposite sex the respect due to 
 rational beings. It was there only she beheld 
 the sober interests of a progressing intelligence, 
 exalted above the trivial distinctions of society. 
 She was not, however, blind in her partiality. 
 Vanity, ambition, and egotism, existed as much 
 among the partizans of the imperial as of the 
 royal crown of France; the same lust of place, 
 the same hankering after an inch of ribbon, or 
 an ell of emblazoned parchment. The wor- 
 shippers of the God Fo were nearly as idola- 
 trous as those of the God Fum. 
 
 But the ermined skirts of the new aristocracy 
 were still radiant with the glories by which they 
 had been ennobled. The laurel-crowns to which 
 she rendered homage, encircled the very brows
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 117 
 
 they had been woven to illustrate. The honour 
 and glory were immediate and identical ; not 
 legendary, — not traditional, — not to be taken 
 upon trust. — The waters were fresh from the 
 sacred fountain, — not drivelled through centuries 
 of drought and stagnation. The swords were 
 scarcely sheathed which had carved those records 
 of fame, — not rusted through ages of inglorious 
 sloth. At the Tuileries, her respect was de- 
 manded for dukes and field marshals, because 
 their ancestors had fought with Bayard, or legis- 
 lated- with Sully. At the house of Admiral Guer- 
 chant, her respect was willingly conceded to 
 dukes and field-marshals, by whom kingdoms had 
 been conquered or pacificated, and England 
 itself condemned to burn its midnight oil in 
 privy councils and public debates. 
 
 The greatest charm, however, of the admi- 
 ral's fire- side was its unpretending family affec- 
 tion. The sacred charities of domestic life had 
 been fostered both by the precept and example 
 of Napoleon ; and imiporality, driven discoun- 
 tenanced from his court, had only lately found 
 time to uplift her head from the mire, adorn it
 
 118 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 with paint and perfume, and amble her way 
 back to the luxurious saloons of the great. 
 Matilda delighted in the simple old peasant- 
 mother of the admiral, reversing the laws of 
 nature and venerating her excellent son ; in the 
 cordial wife, the graceful daughters. Nor was 
 the unaffected admiration of the young English- 
 woman commended to their regard by the widow 
 of the gallant Ravenscroft without value in their 
 estimation. Elsewhere, Lady Norman com- 
 manded homage; at the Hotel of the Place 
 Royale, she obtained personal regard. 
 
 What a change in all these varied scenes 
 and societies from the obscurity of Selwood 
 Manor ! — What a difference between this tri- 
 umphant career, and the tea-drinkings of Sel- 
 wood Vicarage, or an occasional formal dinner- 
 party at Farleigh Castle ! — Matilda had not 
 courage to relate the history of her daily and 
 nightly enjoyments to Sophy Ravenscroft, lest 
 her letters should render her young friend dis- 
 contented with her monotonous seclusion. She 
 admitted only that she was supremely happy; 
 without stating how much of her felicity was
 
 THE HEIR or SELWOOD. 119 
 
 owing to the altered demeanour of Sir Richard, 
 (who now seemed only anxious to atone for 
 his past harshness by the obsequiousness of his 
 attentions ;) or how much to the absence of 
 the Abbe O'Donnel, who had suddenly de- 
 parted for Rome, on a mission to the Pro- 
 paganda from the community in which he 
 had recently re-inrolled himself. — She did not 
 even attempt to excite the interest of Sophia 
 by describing the wistful looks of compassion 
 she had detected in the eyes of the old man, 
 when he bad her adieu. Perhaps the Abbe 
 fancied that he should see that young and lovely 
 face no more; — or perhaps he experienced a 
 remors^ul pang of fatherly pity, in beholding a 
 being so fair, so guileless, so inexperienced, sur- 
 rounded for the first time by the snares of a 
 flattering and deceitful world. —
 
 120 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Now hoist the sail and let the streamers float 
 Upon the wanton breezes. Strew the deck 
 With lavender, and sprinkle liquid sweets, 
 That no rude savour maritime invade 
 The nose of nice nobility ! Breathe soft, 
 Ye clarionets, and softer still, ye flutes ! 
 That winds and waters, lulled by magic sounds, 
 May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 It was now the carnival. Paris was alive with 
 one of those fever fits of excitement which 
 render the Parisians such ready tools for a re- 
 volution, such ready fools for a masked ball. 
 The courtiers of the Tuileries, laying aside for 
 a time their vainglory,— the partizans of the 
 petit corporal^ forgetting for a moment their
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 121 
 
 despondency, resigned themselves to the enjoy- 
 ment of bah masques and carnival adventures. 
 Every night had its ball or f<§te: — English 
 dukes, foreign ambassadors, Russian princes, 
 Turkish envoys, vying with each other in the 
 splendour of their entertainments. Lady Dawlish 
 and Lady Arthur promenaded their ennuis hst- 
 lessly through the brilliant throng ; Mrs. Lock- 
 wood lived in a perpetual course of cosmetics ; 
 while Madame de Montrond, who fancied that 
 momentous reports for the King's cabinet were 
 to be gathered in those temples of echo where 
 English lords and magnificos of Muscovy 
 lounged together over their sorbets, (discoursing 
 of Merino sheep, prize-fighting, fox-hunting, 
 sledging, opera dancers, and rouge et noir,) 
 carried her diamond tiara from ball-room to 
 ball-room, glittering over the emptiest head that 
 ever aspired to diplomatic renown, from the 
 Neuskoi' Prospect to Stable Yard. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sir Richard Norman, flattered 
 by the triumphs of a wife to whom such 
 triumphs were indifferent, took care that the 
 splendours of Matilda's appearance at the court- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 fetes, should not be eclipsed by those of the most 
 gorgeous of her country women. But except 
 when they repaired together to these scenes 
 of diversion, the Normans saw little of each 
 other. 
 
 His mornings were devoted to researches 
 among the public archives and manuscripts of 
 the royal library, for important documents 
 which he wished to recover connected with the 
 interests of his family and church ; while hei^s 
 were trifled away by the intrusions and en- 
 croachments of her fashionable friends. 
 
 Escaping one day (after a night spent au hal 
 de Toper a^ enpartiejine with fifty of the most talk- 
 ative gossips of Paris) from her crowded saloon, 
 Lady Norman directed her coachman to drive 
 to the Place Royale. Her evening engagements 
 had latterly detained her from the Guerchants' 
 pleasant circle ; and she wished to prove to her 
 kind friends that she was not forgetful as well 
 as negligent. To her surprise, an air of 
 unusual gaiety seemed to animate the dreary 
 old Hotel. Remote from the fooleries of 
 the carnival, neither masquerade nor hceuf gras
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 123 
 
 could be the origin of Jts mirth ; — yet the tone 
 of both the Admiral and his lady seemed in- 
 spired by some unavowed good fortmie. Ma- 
 tilda sympathized with their cheerfulness with- 
 out troubling herself to divine the cause ; and 
 was gratified when the Admiral, on leading her 
 back to her carriage, thanked her, with cordial 
 courtesy, for having remembered her obscure 
 friends among the engagements of so gay a 
 season. 
 
 " A time may come," said he, as he pressed 
 her hand at parting, " when my devoted ser- 
 vices will prove how highly we esteem the 
 friend of our English captain's widow for his 
 sake, and how truly we love her for her own. 
 
 There was something unaccountable to Lady 
 Norman — something almost affecting — in this 
 effusion of sentiment on the part of the rough 
 old commander, the strong-minded old states- 
 man ; and she leant back in a corner of her 
 carriage, as it wound rapidly along the crowded 
 Boulevarts, revolving the origin and intention of 
 the Admiral's* affectionate apostrophe. — When, 
 lo ! just at the junction of the Rue Cerutti, a 
 g2
 
 124 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 sudden crash startled her from her reverie, 
 and she found herself in close contact with a 
 plain dark chariot, in which, the blinds being 
 partially drawn down, she was enabled by her 
 reclining position to discern the person of her 
 husband. 
 
 How slight the incident, — yet how myste- 
 rious ! — Sir Richard — like most men of his 
 age, an abhorrer of closed carriages — driving 
 in a stuffy chariot along the Boulevarts, at 
 a moment when he had announced himself 
 pledged to attend an interesting debate in the 
 Chambre des Deputes ! — What could be the 
 meaning of this ? 
 
 " What business had he there at such a time?" 
 
 To catch a second glimpse and place her 
 suspicions beyond a doubt, was out of the 
 question. Much as she longed to ascertain 
 whether the companion with whom he was 
 engaged in eager discourse, were male or fe- 
 male, it was impossible. The chariot had the 
 start of her by fifty yards, and, though her
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 125 
 
 heart was bursting with impatience, she thought 
 it beneath her dignity to issue orders to quicken 
 their pace ; — the servants having, perhaps, been 
 as quicksighted as herself in detecting their 
 master. 
 
 Resolved, however, to keep the mysterious 
 chariot as long as possible in sight, and per- 
 ceiving that it was proceeding towards the 
 Place Louis XV., she desired the coachman to 
 drive to the Champs Elysees; where, as she 
 was in the frequent habit of alighting for a 
 quiet walk, her presence would excite no sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Poor Matilda's project was successful. So far 
 as the Avenue de Neuilly, she kept the car- 
 riage in view ; nothing doubting that it would 
 pursue the road to the Bois de Boulogne, 
 whither she could still follow without provoking 
 comment or suspicion; — when, just as they 
 reached the turning towards Chaillot, her car- 
 riage stopped suddenly, and the ever-smiling 
 face of Lady Dawlish's coxcombical son. Colonel 
 Villiers, presented itself at the open window.
 
 126 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 from which she had been watching the equipage 
 of the delinquent. 
 
 " Good morning, Lady Norman," said he. 
 ** Seen my mother to-day ? — Hope you are not 
 going to the Bois — eh ? — Just come from 
 riding there with the Lockwoods. An East 
 wind cuts Hke a carving knife ! — " 
 
 *« Miladi veut-elle Men descendre faire sa pro- 
 menade ?" — demanded the footman, opening the 
 opposite door, on conceiving (as it was natural 
 for a Parisian lackey to conceive) that Miladi, 
 having met her handsome young countryman, 
 had accomplished her rendezvous, and was 
 ready for a walk. 
 
 «' Going to walk, eh?"— said Villiers, giving 
 his horse to his groom. — " A most unexpected 
 pleasure ! — Fortunate that you happened to 
 meet me, eh ? — Quite right to prefer the Champs 
 Elysees to the Bois ! — Bois detestable in windy 
 weather, eh ? — Bois always excruciating, either 
 from mud or dust. — " 
 
 Provoked to be thus pestered with a popin- 
 jay, Lady Norman had no patience to reply.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 127 
 
 But Colonel Villiers, who was blest with the 
 tongue of a ready talker, shuffled on by her 
 side, without the slightest intermission of gos- 
 sip. He could converse, as the ropewalkers 
 work, backwards or forwards with equal fa- 
 cility. 
 
 " Charming ball at Madame de Goutaut's 
 last night, eh? — Not charming? — No! Quite 
 agree with you. — A horrid mixture, eh? — Par- 
 quet waxed to a fault. Slippery as the Mer de 
 Glace! — Might as well have waltzed upon 
 enamel, eh ? First dance, quite a collar-bone 
 run, eh ? — Three purls in ten minutes ! Only 
 one ? — True ; I fancy there was but one. 
 Should be an ordonnance against the English 
 waltzing ! — So used to their own cursed vulgar 
 chalked floors, that they can*t make out a par- 
 quet, eh ? — Not ten oak-floors in London, eh ? 
 Obliged to daub their half-planed deals with chalk 
 to hide the nakedness of the land, and waltz like 
 snails in a lethargy, to prevent stumbling over the 
 boards, eh ? — Wonder whether French dances 
 will ever take at Almack's, eh ? — Lady Hamp- 
 den tried them to amuse the Regent, and they
 
 128 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 were coughed down. Do you costume yourself 
 for this thing at the Due de Berri's, eh ? — Not a 
 bal masqu6 ? — True; a carrousel de salon, I fancy, 
 with pasteboard horses and daggers of lath ! — " 
 As Colonel Villiers waited for no replies to 
 his vocable notes of interrogation, it was easy 
 for Matilda to give her thoughts to her cares, 
 while she seemed to listen to his rapid chit- 
 chat; and every moment her wonder increased 
 concerning the motives of Sir Richard's self- 
 concealment. With a sudden impulse of jea- 
 lousy, she passed in review the whole catalogue 
 of her female acquaintance, without calling to 
 mind a single one to whom her husband had 
 devoted marked attentions. He was not, 
 in fact, a lady's man. Whatever the course of 
 his fiery youth, his middle age was mani- 
 festly too wayward for silken bondage. Sir 
 Richard Norman was one of the many Eng- 
 lishmen uncivilized enough to prefer political 
 argument to even the largest small-talk, and a 
 glass of claret to the sweetest eau sucree. He 
 was addicted to fieldrsports, agriculture, argu- 
 mentation, and a meerschaum, — the man least
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 129 
 
 qualified on earth to caper nimbly in a lady's 
 chamber, and the least likely to devote a chilly 
 January day to turtle-doveship among the leafless 
 groves and windy alleys of the Bois de Bou- 
 logne. 
 
 " Horrid sight ! Poor Madame de Rohan 
 last night, in her spangled turban, eh?" — conti- 
 nued Villiers, not noticing her pre-occupation, 
 and, hearing nothing but his own voice, he 
 decided Lady Norman to be an agreeable con- 
 versational woman. " Poor soul thinks it 
 right to remind the chateau of the length of time 
 she was excruciated in emigration, by affecting 
 to speak broken French, and adhere to the 
 vulgarisms of Grosvenor square, eh ? — Delight- 
 ful to hear the Faubourg shriek out when they 
 see her attired in the style of Gyngell's figu- 
 rantes — " Ah ! cette chere Madame de Rohan ! 
 Foi/ez un peu tout ce qu*elle a du sovffrir en An- 
 gleterre ! — ca fait pitie de la voir promener ses 
 martyr es ! — " 
 
 At that moment, Matilda, who was pacing 
 on unheeding, absorbed in her own reflections, 
 g3
 
 130 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 found her steps suddenly impeded by the strug- 
 gles of a child, a fine little boy, with whom 
 she had come in contact as he was sporting 
 along the causeway. 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! — I trust he is not hurt !" 
 — cried she, lifting him up before the honne^ 
 who was at some distance, could approach 
 them. *' Tu ne t'es pas blesst, n'est ce pas, mon 
 petit cheri f' — she continued, attempting to em- 
 brace the child. 
 
 " Put me down — Don't kiss me — Don't talk 
 French to me — I am English !" — cried the 
 sturdy little fellow. And Matilda, perceiving 
 that his lip was cut by the fall, could not but 
 admire his spirit and energy and envy the 
 mother of so promising a son. 
 
 "Noble boy, 'pon honour!" exclaimed Co- 
 lonel Villiers, surveying him through his glass. 
 *' I present you with my cravdche, my little 
 man, as a reward for your he^oism — eh ?" 
 
 " I don't want your whip," retorted the 
 child. *' Mamma says I am not to accept pre- 
 sents from strangers."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 131 
 
 "And what is your name?" inquired Ma- 
 tilda, perceiving that the nurse, who had now 
 rejoined them, was a foreigner. 
 
 " My name is Norman." 
 
 " A namesake of your ladyship ? A monopo- 
 lizer of excellences !" said Villiers, with an 
 ineffable smile ; and as he stooped forward to 
 bestow a condescending caress upon the boy 
 Lady Norman suddenly found her husband by 
 her side ! — Confused by such a startling suc- 
 cession of incidents, she coloured deeply; nor 
 was her distress diminished on noticing the in- 
 dignant expression of his countenance. 
 
 " How are you, Norman ?" — demanded the 
 graceful Colonel, unobservant of their embar- 
 rassment. " Just run down a little namesake 
 of yours, whose beauty does honour to the 
 family— eh ?— " 
 
 *' A namesake of mewe.^" inquired Sir Richard, 
 regarding the noble child with a degree of 
 admiration that for a moment overmastered his 
 displeasure at finding Matilda tete-a-t^te with 
 the Colonel of many conquests. 
 
 *' Will you kiss this gentleman ?" demanded
 
 132 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Lady Norman of the child, relieved from the 
 suspicions she had momentarily entertained. 
 
 " No ! — I don't like him — Let me go to my 
 nurse. Hallo !" cried the child, interrupting 
 himself, as he caught si<?ht of Ladv Norman's 
 equipage, drawn up beside the path — " Manette ! 
 Voild ma voiture qui m' attend. Montons ! — " 
 
 ** It is not your carriage. Sir ! — Run on, and 
 do not trouble the lady," replied the attendant, 
 in her native language. 
 
 " I tell you it is mine, or my papa's," per- 
 sisted the boy. " Whatever you see, Manette, 
 marked with those two pictures upon it — a 
 golden star, and a soldier's hand with a battle- 
 axe — belongs to us. Mamma told me so the 
 other day. This is our carriage, and I choose 
 to get into it ; — I am tired." 
 
 '' And who is Mamma — eh?" inquired Colo- 
 nel Villiers. 
 
 " What is that to you .?" demanded the arro- 
 gant little pea-chick, so early trained in the 
 vainglorious paths of heraldry. 
 
 «' Madame se nomme miledi Catherine de 
 Noremann" interrupted the honne^ scandalized
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 133 
 
 at the ill-manners of her charge, whom she 
 now bore away undetained, for both Sir 
 Richard and Matilda had received a shock not 
 readily to be overcome. 
 
 *< It is too cold to walk !" said he, turning 
 towards the carriage ; and having hastily handed 
 in his wife, he followed, kissing his hand in abrupt 
 adieu to the gallant Colonel, who had no alter- 
 native but to remount his horse, and ride off. 
 
 For some minutes, silence prevailed between 
 the parties ; but as they retraversed the Boule- 
 vards to return home, Matilda could not refrain 
 from remarking — '« I fancied I met you here, an 
 hour ago, in a chariot with the blinds half 
 drawn ? — '' 
 
 But Norman was apparently too much en- 
 grossed by his own thoughts to hear or heed 
 her observation. " How on earth came you to 
 enter into conversation with that child ?" — was 
 the first observation that escaped his lips. 
 
 '' He met with an accident through my heed- 
 lessness, and was too brave to complain. I 
 never saw a finer little fellow !'*
 
 134 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Damn him !" — muttered Sir Richard, with 
 a degree of bitterness such as he had not 
 betrayed since his departure from Selwood 
 Manor. '' No doubt that cursed prying woman 
 of a nurse will go home and tell the Normans 
 that we have been cross-questioning the child. 
 A fine triumph for them ! — A pretty history they 
 will make of it ! — And that puppy Villiers, too, 
 standing by, pretending not to know the child ; — 
 his own cousin, and dining constantly, as he 
 does, with the parents ! — " 
 
 '' Rely upon it. Colonel Villiers knows and 
 cares nothing about Mr. Norman's prospect of 
 succeeding to your estate," said Matilda, by 
 way of consolation. " I dare say he thinks we 
 have a nursery full of children of our own ; or, 
 more probably still, thinks nothing about the 
 matter. — " 
 
 ^' I am not ass enough to imagine, as you 
 would insinuate, that the whole world is inter- 
 ested in my family affairs !"— cried the irritated 
 Sir Richard. " But that Giles Norman does 
 make the heirship presumptive of his son to my 
 
 ^
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 135 
 
 estate a subject of perpetual vaunt, I have good 
 reason to know. Giles Normaii is a vulgar- 
 minded fellow, inflated with notions of his 
 family consequence ; and I entertain no doubt 
 that Villiers is at this moment enjoying a laugh 
 with him over our mortification ! — " 
 
 " The ineffable Colonel Villiers would be 
 shocked at the idea of enjoying so barbarous a 
 thing as a laugh," said Lady Norman, unwilling 
 to see her husband's vexation in a serious light. 
 " I dare say he has returned to escort Mrs. 
 Lock wood through that wilderness of monkeys, 
 the Bois de Boulogne, without troubling him- 
 self further about us." 
 
 But her husband would neither smile nor be 
 appeased. All that evening, he resembled the 
 Sir Richard Norman of Selwood Manor, far 
 more than the Sir Richard Norman of the 
 Pavilion Marsan, or the Salle des Marechaux. 
 
 But his self-love had deeper mortifications in 
 store. Sir Richard, on his arrival in Paris, had 
 been elated — more elated, perhaps, than became 
 his honourable descent — by the distinctions 
 vouchsafed him by the royal family, and the 
 
 ^
 
 136 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 ecclesiastical dignitaries of Paris. And lo ! the 
 very next time he had the honour of an invi- 
 tation from the Cardinal Archbishop, he found, 
 on entering the dreary apartments of the palace, 
 that Mr. Norman was also among the guests ; 
 nay, that as a kinsman he had been invited to 
 do especial honour to the new comer ! — 
 
 To enter into the pitiful detail of his family 
 differences to his Eminence, was impossible. A 
 Judas-like bow of ceremony was accordingly ex- 
 changed between the cousins ; and the august 
 prelate took occasion, in the course of the 
 evening, to express to Sir Richard his satis- 
 faction in having made the acquaintance of so 
 distinguished a member of the Norman family, 
 and the Catholic church, as his cousin Giles. 
 
 Next night, Matilda and her husband were 
 included in one of those select parties at 
 the Chateau which, as they comprehended 
 twenty foreigners to a single Frenchman, were 
 already beginning to make the restored family 
 unpopular with their own party ; the King 
 being perpetually surrounded with English, 
 Russ, or Prussian uniforms, — the Duchesse
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 137 
 
 d*Angouleme with London exclusives, or the 
 ex-divinities of Alexander the Little. Dis- 
 tinguished on all occasions by the notice 
 of Madame, Matilda, after the usual com- 
 pliments of reception, found herself wistfully 
 congratulated by the Dauphinless Duchess, 
 upon the extreme beauty of her children ; who 
 had attracted the notice of his Majesty some 
 weeks before, while playing in the park of 
 St. Cloud. Painful as it was to explain in 
 presence of the silent circle, and still more in 
 presence of Sir Richard, the real state of the 
 case, Matilda faltered with a blush that " she 
 was not so fortunate as to be a mother ; and 
 that the children to whom her Royal Highness 
 alluded were those of a distant relative." 
 
 "Ah! you have relatives, then, in Paris?"— said 
 the Duchess, grieved to have inflicted pain on 
 such a subject. *' You must do me the favour 
 to make them known to me, the earliest oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 Fortunately, Madame de Montrond was at 
 hand to explain, with the eternal smile and 
 universal knowledge of a lady in waiting, that
 
 138 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 miledi Catherine Normann had already been 
 presented " aux bontes de la famille royale par 
 Madame la Comtesse de Dollish" Nothing re- 
 mained for the Duchess to suggest, but that she 
 trusted the next time miledi Normann visited 
 the Chateau, she would be accompanied by her 
 " aimahle parente^ miledi Catherine." 
 
 \
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 139 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Son superbe degout, 
 Ses fiers dedains, fuyaient et blamaient tout ; — 
 On I'appelait la belle impertinente. 
 Or, admirez la faiblesse des gens ! 
 Plus elle etait distraite, exigeante, 
 Plus ils tachaient par des soins complaisans 
 D'apprivoiser son humeur meprisante. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 The natural timidity of character arising from 
 her inexperience of the world being hourly in- 
 creased by the morbid sensitiveness of her 
 husband, Matilda fancied that Lady Catherine 
 Norman would be as much annoyed as herself 
 by the awkward position in which they were 
 placed by these misunderstandings. 
 
 But it would have required .some wholly un-
 
 140 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 precedented event to disturb the self-possession 
 of the confident, dashing Lady Catherine Nor- 
 man. Everything Lady Catherine said or did, was 
 hard, or hardened. She rode hard, she looked 
 hardened ; her handsome person and aquiline 
 nose seeming to afford her a privilege of hardi- 
 hood and dictation beyond the charter of her 
 sex. Listead of being embarrassed, she was 
 amused at being thus brought into contact with 
 the Normans of Selwood Manor. Her hus- 
 band's heirship to their title and estate had 
 been one of his chief recommendations to her 
 favour; and having been informed by him 
 that the Baronet had originally quarrelled with 
 her father-in-law for not choosing to sanction 
 his marriage with a young woman of inferior 
 condition, she prepared herself to look down 
 and talk down the presumptuous parvenue^ 
 whenever they should be thrown together. 
 
 Lady Catherine's parents, the Earl and Coun- 
 tess of Roscrea, were Tory grandees of the first 
 class, — bigots in religion, politics, and the ethics 
 of social life. Accustomed to hear the law laid 
 down from the petty throne of her mother's
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 141 
 
 drawing-room, till she fancied herself entitled to 
 lay it down in her turn, Lady Catherine had 
 assumed the right to pronounce upon admini- 
 strations and hierarchies, and as audaciously as 
 if any syllable she uttered were deserving the 
 attention of a reasonable beinff. 
 
 o 
 
 Nevertheless, her august proportions and 
 personal presumption, backed by connexions 
 equally presumptuous and lofty, imposed upon 
 the multitude. The well-bred bowed assent 
 to her verbose harangues, — the patient bore 
 with her absolutism, — the timid shrunk from 
 her impertinence, — till by degrees she came 
 to fancy herself oracular ! — To repay her 
 own concession in allying herself with an ana- 
 thematized Papist, she had exacted the retire- 
 ment of Giles Norman from commercial pur- 
 suits ; and their prospects in life thus destroyed, 
 they had been living ever since their marriage 
 on the allowance made him by his father and 
 the interest of her ladyship's ladyship-like for- 
 tune, — an income that exactly sufficed to defray 
 their dress,- equipage, and opera-box, leaving 
 the necessaries of life to chance and post obits.
 
 142 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Nevertheless, as the Normans made an excellent 
 appearance in the world and the world was de- 
 lighted to enter them on its list of friends, they 
 formed a brilliant variety in the insect tribes 
 volant in London, and became exclusive among 
 the exclusives. 
 
 Inexplicable is the force of certain filmy 
 bonds which society has been pleased to en- 
 weave, as if expressly for its enthralment ! 
 The silly bird is not more easily charmed 
 in an imaginary circle, than the English 
 beau monde by any gibberish incantation which 
 impostors of a certain standing are bold enough 
 to pronounce. Lady Catherine Norman 
 belonged in London to what was termed 
 " Lady Dawlish's set ;" and there was nothing 
 indecorous, vulgar, or unfeeling, which " Lady 
 Dawlish's set" had not privileged itself to do 
 with impunity. They had decreed themselves 
 infallible, and society submitted to the decree. 
 It was useless for people of higher rank, fortune, 
 sense, accomplishments, or beauty, to say, '' I am 
 not one of them, but I am something more /" 
 The knowing ones had surrounded their lists
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 143 
 
 with impregnable barriers, against which the 
 excluded were constantly pressed forward, and 
 by which they were constantly driven back ; 
 and before the close of the season, the insurgents 
 invariably owned themselves defeated. Lady 
 Dawlish sat omnipotent on her throne; while 
 Lady Catherine, stationed as Lady Chamber- 
 lain at. her side, looked down, wand in hand, 
 upon the fruitless struggles of the disaffected 
 courtiers ! — 
 
 The triflers thus self-erected into a tribunal, 
 naturally imagined that the power so absolute 
 in that favoured spot of earth whose dust is 
 weighed by golden pennyweights, and whose 
 area measured by a twelve-inch ivory rule, 
 must maintain universal authority ; and Lady 
 Catherine arrived in Paris believing that her 
 sneers were to tarnish the renown of states- 
 men, and her averted glances to drive some un- 
 offending woman from society, as in supercilious, 
 superficial, hyper-fashionable London ! — But 
 at the first wave of her wand, she discovered 
 that its virtue was departed. 
 
 On giving utterance to one of her incoherent
 
 144 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 political rhapsodies, oracular in Grosvenor 
 Square, she was entreated by the intelligent 
 French auditors to whom it purported to dictate, 
 to condescend to explain the meaning of her 
 words ; — and when she asserted to a lofty coterie 
 in the Faubourg Germain, that Lady Norman 
 was '* a person not in society — a person whom 
 nobody knew," she was answered with naif sim- 
 plicity that " the Lady Norman she stated to be 
 her distant connexion, might not be in society; 
 but that their Lady Norman was the most 
 charming of women, received at the chateau, 
 and honoured with the favour of Madame." 
 
 To throw a chill over this misplaced enthusi- 
 asm, Lady Catherine tried the effect of one of 
 her icy sneers; surveying the offenders over 
 her lofty nose, as though its shade were to re- 
 gulate the world, like the gnomon of a sun dial. 
 But it would not do. The elegantes, instead of 
 being transfixed to stone, whispered among 
 themselves that the air of the tall miladi was em- 
 prunte ; and, deciding her to be very gauche and a 
 leetle deaf, they turned round to welcome Matilda, 
 who came among them gentle and unpretending,
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 145 
 
 talking in a strain they could understand, and 
 as easy to conciliate as she was conciliating. 
 
 This failure was wormwood to Lady Cathe- 
 rine. Her sting was extracted, — her arrows ren- 
 dered pointless. — She commanded no sympathy, 
 unless from her husband ; who had fancied that, 
 in allying himself with a ladyship, he should 
 astonish the world as much as he had aston- 
 ished himself. He was indignant to find that he 
 could no longer maintain his importance in 
 society by leaning against the wall with a fasti- 
 dious countenance, holding his tongue, hat, 
 and cane, — too well-dressed to walk, too well- 
 informed to talk, on any ordinary occasion. 
 The empty airs by which the slavish world of 
 London had been astounded, passed alto- 
 gether unnoticed in Paris ; and he was re- 
 quired to shew cause why he was to be 
 attended to. 
 
 It was only through the beauty of his son, that 
 he still contrived to inflict a pang upon his kins- 
 man. At the children's balls, forming one of 
 the numerous outlets of the vanity and luxury 
 of the season, young Norman, with his clustering 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 curls and suit of crimson velvet and point, was 
 the object of universal admiration ; while 
 Matilda was sure to come in for her share 
 of compliments on the loveliness of her supposed 
 offspring. Lady Catherine had been so careful 
 to spread the report that the boy was heir to Sir 
 Richard Norman of Selwood Manor, that it was 
 but natural strangers should conclude the child 
 to be his son. 
 
 So often had this vexatious mistake occurred, 
 that, when one night on entering the carriage, 
 after having been singled out before fifty Eng- 
 lish people by the Due de Berri with flatteries 
 on the gallant appearance made in the Bois de 
 Boulogne by young Norman and his Shetland 
 pony. Sir Richard burst forth into exclamations 
 against the mortification of his childless bed, — 
 Matilda felt him to be almost justified. Hitherto, 
 he had bewailed only the misfortune of having 
 his estate inherited by the hateful Noimans. 
 He now spoke of children as the fairest orna- 
 ments of existence ; — the cheerers of a house- 
 hold, — the embellishment of home, — the best 
 resource against old age.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOB. 147 
 
 " Then why, — since Providence denies us a 
 child of our own," — said Matilda, " why not 
 adopt one? — Next to one's own offspring, a 
 child adopted from infancy must be the dearest 
 thing on earth." 
 
 " Are you serious?" — demanded Sir Richard, 
 startled by this sudden proposal. 
 
 " Perfectly serious. Nothing would more 
 conduce to my happiness." 
 
 *' You pledge me your word that you would 
 adopt and educate as your own, some child 
 whom we might mutually select for the pur- 
 pose ? — " 
 
 " Without hesitation. But it is from yourself 
 that the pledge ought rather to be demanded ; 
 since it is i/ou who must incur the expense and 
 responsibihty of the adoption." 
 
 " Such has long been the dearest wish of my 
 heart !" exclaimed Sir Richard. 
 
 " Then why keep it secret from me?" — cried 
 Matilda. "Oh that you had been more ex- 
 plicit ! — How many uneasy moments might have 
 been spared us ! — The company of a darling 
 H 2
 
 148 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 little child would have so enlivened our dull 
 fireside !" 
 
 " It may do so still. We have, I trust, Ma- 
 tilda, years of happiness in store. I feel that 
 we have hit upon the only expedient likely to 
 confirm their perfect enjoyment." 
 
 On parting for the night, her husband em- 
 braced her with a warmth of tenderness such as, 
 for many months, had ceased to soften his de- 
 meanour towards her; and on the morrow, met 
 her again at breakfast, in the highest spirits. 
 A new life seemed dawning to his expectations. 
 Joy sparkled in his eyes, and flurried his 
 manner. Never had Matilda beheld him so 
 elated. — He proposed a ride; ho proposed a 
 walk. — They dined tete-a-tete ; and all that 
 evening he remained a fixture, and a most wel- 
 come one, in Lady Norman's opera box, full of 
 chat, gallantry, and animation. He seemed 
 desirous to thank her every moment for her 
 concession to his wishes. A parure of rubies, 
 which a few days before she had admired at 
 Fossin's, in presence of Mrs. Lock wood, was
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 149 
 
 lying on her toilet-table at her return from the 
 opera ; nor would he accept her thanks for the 
 costly gift. 
 
 " You are indebted to Mrs. Lockwood," 
 said he, " who reproached me last night at the 
 Tuileries for having neglected lejour des etrennes, 
 so carefully noted by the wives of Paris. You 
 owe me nothing but a kiss of peace." 
 
 For many succeeding days, Matilda was su- 
 premely happy. How different the effect pro- 
 duced upon her feelings by the vague adulation 
 of the coteries of Paris — the homage of what she 
 had justly termed " the wilderness of monkeys" 
 — compared with the heart-soothing kindness 
 of her husband. Instead of passing three- 
 fourths of the day away from her, , Sir Richard 
 was now scarcely ever absent from home; and 
 when he chose, loho could be such an agreeable 
 companion as Sir Richard Norman? — Even 
 when she drove out he managed to accompany 
 her, by proposing an expedition to the hric a 
 brae warehouses of the Quai Voltaire, where at 
 that time the most valuable antiquities, the
 
 150 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 spoil of military booty in all the countries of 
 Europe, were heaped together almost without 
 consideration. He chose to have her opinion 
 in the choice of a fine suite of bronze candelabra, 
 which he was selecting for the hall at Selwood ; 
 and insisted upon presenting her with an exqui- 
 site panelling of Florentine mosaic for her 
 favourite boudoir. He seemed chiefly intent 
 upon the adornment and restoration of the 
 Manor House. 
 
 " Monsieur voire mari seems to consider that 
 the prospects of the great question are brighten- 
 ing in England ?" observed Madame de Mon- 
 trond, after having made her way for a morn- 
 ing visit through the encumbered vestibule of 
 Matilda's hotel. — " This will be charming news 
 for the King !" 
 
 " It is long since I heard Sir Richard allude 
 to the subject," said Lady Norman. " Since 
 the Abbe's departure, he has interested himself 
 little in politics." 
 
 '^ But do you imagine that, unless the Eman- 
 cipation question were safe, he would indulge
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 151 
 
 in all this expense for the enrichment of his 
 estates ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I think he would." 
 
 " I grieve to hear it !'' cried Madame de Mon- 
 trond, *' for in that case his hasty purchases 
 must arise from a suspicion that the state of 
 affairs here is not permanent, — that the English 
 have not long to remain in Paris. This will be 
 sad news for the King. His Majesty relies im- 
 plicitly on the political intelligence of foreigners 
 of a certain rank.'* 
 
 "Not, I trust, including Sir Richard?'* said 
 Matilda, to whom the paltry jargon of an in- 
 trigante was almost unintelligible. ** My hus- 
 band is wholly indifferent to politics, foreign or 
 domestic." 
 
 " Ne vous y Jiez pas P* — cried Madame de 
 Montrond, arranging the plaitings of her dress. 
 " No man in his right senses can be indifferent 
 to politics. Politics involve our whole existence, 
 — influence the very air we breathe, — our eat- 
 ing, drinking, sleeping, loving, hating, — the 
 universal tenour of our lives !" 
 
 " Sir Richard's life, believe me, runs smoothly
 
 152 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 on, without a thought about the matter," per- 
 sisted Matilda, with a smile. " He leaves the 
 affairs of Europe to the providence of the Con- 
 gress." 
 
 "My dear Madam, I happen to know be- 
 yond dispute that he is intimately connected 
 with personages of importance attached to the 
 cause of the usurper," whispered Madame de M. 
 " With Admiral Guerchant, I admit. But our 
 intimacy has not the slightest political tendency." 
 
 " We do not trouble ourselves about the 
 Admiral. The Admiral is a very honest man ; 
 but a ganache, — a nidlitey — of whom we enter- 
 tain no apprehension," cried the lady of the 
 bedchamber. 
 
 " So much the better, for he is the only 
 Bonapartist with whom we are acquainted," 
 replied her companion, firmly. 
 
 " Your Ladyship must excuse me. I allude 
 simply to Sir Richard Norman." 
 
 " We frequent the same society." 
 
 " No woman moves in precisely the same 
 society as her husband. There must always be 
 liaisons in which she cannot participate."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 153 
 
 '' In Sir Richard's case, these lie entirely 
 among his own countrymen. I often meet 
 him riding with strangers; but they are English- 
 men.'' 
 
 "Englishwm/" retorted Madame de Mon- 
 trond. And the silence with which that em- 
 phatic concluding syllable was received by Ma- 
 tilda, convinced her that the seeming artlessness 
 of Lady Norman was only a piece of acting 
 more consummate than her own. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the cabinet-councilress of 
 the Bourbon court departed, leaving her to her 
 meditations, Matilda could not but recal to mind 
 the significant tone in which she had pronounced 
 the word liaisons! — The peculiar smile of 
 Madame de Montrond convinced her that Sir 
 Richard had connexions of a nature not to 
 be revealed to his wife; while her own ex- 
 perience assured her that they included a 
 chocolate-coloured chariot, and a figure en- 
 wrapt in a cloak of richest sables. Her pre- 
 vious uneasiness on the subject returned. Her 
 heart sank within her when she reflected how 
 H 3
 
 154 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 unstable is the happiness based upon the sandy 
 foundations of man's fidelity ! — 
 
 The recent change in Sir Richard's deport- 
 ment towards herself, induced her to hope that 
 either her fears outstripped the truth, or that 
 the indiscretions he might have been en- 
 tangled in were giving way before the sacred 
 influence of legitimate love. She determined 
 not to discourage by petulance the returning 
 steps of the w^anderer. It would be her own 
 fault were she to disturb by jealous resentments, 
 the happy footing to which they were almost 
 restored. 
 
 Since the night on which the project of adop- 
 tion had been discussed between them, Sir 
 Richard had reverted to it no more. But the 
 solemn manner in which on that occasion he 
 exhorted her to secresy, even with her nearest 
 friends, convinced her that he was not likely to 
 abandon a scheme which he regarded so se- 
 riously. Alive to the delicacy of the subject as 
 regarded herself, he was perhaps unwilling to 
 pain her by allusions to it until his plans were
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 155 
 
 matured. Accustomed to make his will her 
 law, she determined to wait in silence till 
 it was his pleasure to take her into his confi- 
 dence. 
 
 Meanwhile, their domestic tranquillity re- 
 mained unimpaired, even by the insinuations of 
 Madame de Montrond. Sir Richard was her 
 constant companion ; and it was evidently his 
 desire to withdraw Matilda as much as possible 
 from the brilliant vortex in which she was en- 
 gaged. He was always suggesting excuses to 
 detain her at home; nay, she sometimes fan- 
 cied him annoyed at the homage with which she 
 was beset by the fantastical Colonel Villiers. 
 
 The national habits of Paris were at that 
 period disorganized by the strange innovations 
 introduced by the wealthy and insolent of all 
 nations; who, following in the van of the con- 
 quering army, had taken up their abode in its 
 princely hotels, scattering their barbaric gold on 
 all sides, and introducing customs which were 
 those neither of their own country nor the coun- 
 try submitted to their usurpation. 
 
 One of the whims of the fashionable English
 
 156 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD., 
 
 was to make dinner-parties au cabaret. Hav- 
 ing noticed that j.he more eminent restaurants 
 
 o 
 
 abounded no less in well-dressed ladies than 
 well-dressed dishes, they chose to assume that 
 the salons of the Freres Provengaux, the Rocher, 
 Veri/, and BouvilUers, were the resort of the 
 best society ; and thus created a custom which 
 they fancied to be that of the country. 
 
 " Lady Dawlish wants us to dine with her 
 to-morrow, at the Rocher de Cancale^^' said 
 Matilda one morning to her husband. " Co- 
 lonel Villiers will call in an hour for our an- 
 swer." 
 
 " I detest those vulgar cabaret dinners," cried 
 Norman. «' One has to play audience all the 
 time to Villiers*s and Amboise's criticisms on 
 the new entrees, — their wit being a stale 
 recliauffee from the Almanach des Gourmands. 
 Pray make some excuse." 
 
 " I find that, in compliment to us, Lady 
 Dawlish declined including Lady Catherine and 
 Mr. Norman in her party." 
 
 '* What then ? — Villiers prefers your com- 
 pany to that of the impertinent Patagonian.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 157 
 
 Lady Davvlish, however, had better stick to the 
 Normans. They belong to her own school of 
 egotism and self-conceit. For the love of mercy, 
 dear Matilda, let me not see you enrolled among 
 the exclusives !" 
 
 '* Do not alarm yourself. Their art is not so 
 easily acquired. Lady Dawlish*s listlessness, 
 which appears so natural, is a chef d^oeuvre. 
 When other women affect that sort of well-bred 
 inanity, they do it in a fussy, vulgar manner, 
 that betrays itself to be art. Nothing is more 
 difficult than to pass the day in doing and say- 
 ing nothings, which from the manner in which 
 they are said and done appear to be some- 
 things." 
 
 " Waste not your genius in the attempt; and 
 at all events oblige me, my dearest Matilda, by 
 giving up the Rocher dinner party.'" 
 
 The next sacrifice requested of her was to 
 relinquish Lady Dawlish's Thursday soirees ; 
 where, though nothing was provided for the 
 amusement of the guests, the surface of the 
 society was so smooth and brilliant that peo- 
 ple quitted the house fancying they had been
 
 158 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 amused. After renouncing the pleasant rtunions 
 of Lady Dawlish, it was easy to resign the 
 whispering parties of Madame de Montrond. 
 Than these political sub-parliaments, nothing 
 could be more " forcibly feeble," more empha- 
 tically dull ; — but it was considered de honne com- 
 pagnie to go and whisper away an evening, once 
 a week, in the Countess's apartments at the 
 chateau ; where the beau monde glided in mys- 
 teriously, and mouthed its nothings by whisper- 
 ing in couples on the divans round the room, as 
 if intercommunicating the most important and 
 confidential intelligence. 
 
 Even the livelier Thts dansants of Lady Ar- 
 thur, were soon tacitly interdicted ; for Matilda, 
 who had emerged into the brilliancies of the 
 world solely in accordance with the caprice of 
 her husband, was easily persuaded to retire 
 anew to the domestic seclusion in which he 
 appeared to discover new sources of enjoyment 
 and affection. 
 
 By degrees, Sir Richard's purpose was ac- 
 complished. She withdrew from general so- 
 ciety ; she wearied out the assiduous solicitations
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 159 
 
 of Colonel Villiers, and even avoided all public 
 amusements, unless when enabled to enjoy, at 
 the theatre, t^te-a-tete with her husband, the 
 piquant sallies of Mars or the elaborate classi- 
 cality of Talma. At the opera, at Feydeau, at 
 the Theatre Frangais, the Normans sometimes 
 appeared together. But they were no longer 
 seen apart.
 
 160 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Be well advis'd, — tell o'er thy tale again ! 
 It cannot be — thou dost but say 'tis so. 
 I trust I may not trust thee ; for thy breath 
 Is but the vain breath of a mortal man. 
 Thou shalt be punish 'd for thus frighting me. 
 Then speak again ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Candid as was the disposition of Matilda, 
 her intercourse with her family had long been 
 tinged with reserve, by desire to withhold from 
 the resentment of her father and the exulting 
 comments of Tom Cruttenden, the secret of 
 her domestic disquietudes. Her letters, both to 
 her sister and the Ravenscrofts, glanced as 
 lightly as possible over her recent brilliant in- 
 troduction to society, which could not be
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 161 
 
 detailed without involving the admission of her 
 personal triumphs. 
 
 '* Ay, ay, poor soul !" — cried Cruttenden, when 
 Elizabeth read aloud to the fireside circle the 
 joyous letters in which her sister now described 
 her cheerful home, or quiet excursions with Sir 
 Richard. " I knew that account we read in the 
 ' Herald' of her opening the Duke of Berri's 
 ball, would turn out mere newspaper fudge. 
 — Sir Bluebeard mews her up in Paris, you 
 see, just as he did at his old rat-hole of a country 
 seat !-l" 
 
 " What motive could the London papers 
 have for inventing their statement that Lady 
 Norman has been one of the most brilliant 
 ornaments of the court of the Tuileries through- 
 out the winter ?" — remonstrated Elizabeth. 
 
 " Motive, indeed ! — As if the penny-a-liners 
 wanted a motive for their fabrications ! — As if 
 your sister would seem so proud of spending her 
 evenings at the playhouses along with her cur- 
 mudgeon of a husband, if she'd the privilege of 
 flaunting away in tiffany and beads at their
 
 162 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 make-believe French court ? — However, there's 
 one comfort! — the English ninnies won't be 
 able to flaunt there long. — The French can't 
 abide King Log now they've got him; and 
 take my word for it, they'll soon have their 
 peppery little artillery captain back among 
 'em again ; — and then, my service to British 
 tourists ! — The devil or Nap will take the 
 hindmost." 
 
 " Matilda's letters do not allude to any such 
 apprehension." 
 
 " Matilda's letters allude to just such flimsy, 
 cobweb, polite-conversation nonsenses, as young 
 ladies love to write about. But the price of 
 stocks alludes to it, Miss Betsy ; and I take the 
 price of stocks to speak more to the purpose 
 than half the clap-trap speechifiers in parlia- 
 ment. And you may tell Matty from me, 
 in your next epistle, that if she don't look sharp 
 and persuade Sir Richard to make the best of 
 his way home afore the rain falls in earnest, 
 they'll be wet to the skin afore they can get up 
 their umbrella. Tell her I've private informa-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 163 
 
 tion that Nap will be out of quod afore his 
 year's up ! — '* 
 
 Elizabeth Maule was too prudent to give 
 more than a hint to her sister of this admoni- 
 tion. But it sufficed to startle Matilda; and 
 she was not backward in confiding her alarms to 
 her husband. 
 
 " Mr. Cruttenden must be an admirable 
 judge of the state of Parisian politics !" — replied 
 he, with an incredulous smile. " For my part, 
 I have no anxiety. I was at Guerchant's yes- 
 terday. The circle was crowded with the most 
 ardent partisans of Napoleon, but not a word 
 of politics ! Literature, science, and the drama, 
 exclusively occupied their attention. — Ckmlcl 
 they have been talking so enthusiastically of 
 arts and academies, had their party been on 
 the eve of a great movement V^ 
 
 Without pretending to the tact of a Madam 
 de Montrond, Matilda thought otherwise ; but 
 she did not presume to oppose her opinion to 
 that of her husband. 
 
 '' At all events," resumed Sir Richard, 
 '* since a doubt has been raised on the subject,
 
 164 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 it will be better to give up our journey to 
 Italy." 
 
 " To Italy ?" — exclaimed Matilda, who en- 
 tertained as much idea of such an expedition as 
 of a journey to Tobolsk. " Did you intend to 
 go to Italy this spring? — " 
 
 " What better can we do with ourselves ? 
 We are both heartily tired of Paris ; and, on 
 quitting Selwood, I made arrangements for a 
 year's absence." 
 
 Matilda was silent. She waited to be told 
 of what else she was tired, and where else she 
 intended to go. 
 
 *' Nothing can be more insupportable than 
 Paris during Lent," said he, " particularly to a 
 moderate Catholic like myself, who am tied 
 down against my conviction to certain ob- 
 servances. Our best plan would be to engage 
 one of the fine seats near Paris, which are to 
 be let at this season. W^e should pass a pleasant 
 summer, and be on the spot to observe every 
 variation of the political atmosphere : — tem- 
 porary seclusion being, of course, indispensable 
 to our project."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 165 
 
 '' Our project f reiterated Matilda. 
 
 " Our project of an adoption," replied Sir 
 Richard, in a lower voice. 
 
 " You think, perhaps," said Matilda, '' that 
 the little creature would familiarize itself with 
 us more readily, if excluded from the sight of 
 other people ? — " 
 
 " Infants familiarize themselves readily enough 
 with any one," said Norman, carelessly. 
 
 " I have been considering," said Lady Nor- 
 man, '• that perhaps we should be prudent in 
 selecting a child of more advanced age : the 
 health and intellect of an infant are so little to be 
 relied on ! — Whereas, at an age more developed, 
 one forms some surmise of future character." 
 
 Sir Richard turned upon her with an in- 
 quiring look ; but the sweet serenity of Matilda's 
 face reassured him that she intended no sarcasm. 
 " Of course," she pursued, unabashed, " our 
 chief hope of comfort in the child must depend 
 on its disposition." 
 
 *' Our sole hope depends upon its inheritance 
 of my property," answered Norman, firmly.
 
 166 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Your property?^' interrupted the astonished 
 Matilda. 
 
 " An object to be secured only by the selection 
 of a young infant, and your temporary seclusion 
 from society," continued he. " The world, and 
 those cursed Normans, will otherwise never be- 
 lieve the child to be our own." 
 
 " But you surely do not intend them to believe 
 it ?" — demanded Matilda, turning very pale. 
 
 " For what other purpose do you suppose me 
 desirous of adopting a child, which may live to 
 be the plague of our lives ? I want to become 
 the comptroller of my own fortunes, my dear 
 Matilda. I want to feel myself master of my 
 own house — the house of my forefathers. 
 Providence has denied us children. Let me, at 
 least, secure myself an heir ! — " 
 
 ^* I fear I did not exactly understand your 
 views, when I pledged myself the other night 
 to '' 
 
 '' Do you mean," interrupted Sir Richard, 
 turning sharply upon her, " that you wish to 
 retract your promise ? — that, after misleading
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 167 
 
 me by an assurance of acquiescence, you intend 
 to frustrate my plans ? — " 
 
 " I confess it appears to me scarcely justi- 
 fiable to supersede by such means the rights 
 of -" 
 
 " Rights r exclaimed Norman, again in- 
 terrupting her. " The law of collateral entail 
 is one of the vilest abuses we derive from feudal 
 times, — an abuse which it will be the business 
 of modern enlightenment to reform. In se- 
 curing my property to an individual of my own 
 selection, I only anticipate by a few years a 
 freedom which the amended laws of the realm 
 will ultimately confer upon every Englishman !" 
 
 " Still, to impose a stranger on the world as 
 a son of our own " 
 
 " Matilda !" cried Sir Richard, — " these scru- 
 ples should have occurred to you before. De- 
 ceived by your apparent concurrence, for the 
 last ten days I have enjoyed uninterrupted hap- 
 piness. The blessed hopes of former years have 
 been restored to me, — the sweet affection, the 
 calm content ! — My wishes seemed to be all in 
 all to you, as in our time of early infatuation.
 
 168 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 If by your vacillation you defeat my plans, I 
 have only to submit, — for your concurrence is 
 essential to their accomplishment ; but, in with- 
 holding it, you destroy the last illusion of my 
 life, — the belief that my welfare is dear, to you 
 as your own ! — " 
 
 He spoke with so much emotion, that Matilda 
 dared not reply. She knew that he was in the 
 wrong. She knew that the act he meditated 
 was every way reprehensible. She remembered 
 her father's denunciation that "a falsehood is 
 as a viper, flung back, sooner or later, into 
 the bosom of him who utters it !" — And she 
 trembled, for she saw herself on the verge of 
 crime ! — 
 
 " I have, in fact, already so far committed 
 myself," continued Norman, slightly embar- 
 rassed in his turn, " as to announce to several of 
 our friends our expectation of a family, in order 
 to prepare the way for reappearing in the world, 
 a few years hence, accompanied by our adopted 
 child.'' 
 
 A thousand contending feelings agitated the 
 heart of his wife at this explanation. He had
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 169 
 
 announced that she was likely to be a mother ! 
 Never till that moment had she felt humiliated 
 by the* mockery of her own position as a child- 
 less wife ; for the mere sound of that groundless 
 announcement stirred her soul with emotion. He 
 had announced, that she was likely to be a 
 mother ! — It now occurred to her that, within 
 the last week, several of their intimate associates 
 had regarded her with an air of dfceper interest, 
 and been more careful and attentive to her 
 movements. But she also recollected the 
 affectionate deference with which she had been 
 treated by her husband ; and instead of hailing 
 it as a testimony of rekindling love, was com- 
 pelled to admit that his attentions to her in 
 public were a scene of dissembling, intended 
 to mislead the opinion of the world. He 
 was deceiving others, as well as inducing her 
 to deceive them. — But, alas ! it was already 
 too late to throw off the mask. She had not 
 courage to defy the world's dread laugh, by 
 admitting that they had plotted an imposture, 
 and lacked energy to carry it into execution. 
 While thus ruminating on the painful per- 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 plexities of her position, the tears rolled silently 
 down her cheeks ; and compassionating her dis- 
 tress. Sir Richard, with more sympathy than 
 she had expected from him, affectionately took 
 her hand. 
 
 " Do not afflict yourself thus, my dear Matilda!" 
 said he. '' Since you feel irreconcilably averse 
 to the thing, my wishes shall be sacrificed with- 
 out a murmur. I fancied we understood each 
 other. I fancied we were acting in concert ; but 
 since it is not so, do not hesitate to withdraw 
 your concurrence. I own that your conces- 
 sion would have imparted to our middle age 
 that seal of domestic felicity, of which off- 
 spring are said to be the sole security. By 
 taking the part of a mother towards my adopted 
 heir, I should have fancied you so in earnest, 
 and cherished a proportionate fervour of love 
 and gratitude. But let not this inducement 
 mislead you from what you consider to be your 
 duty. The spotlessness of your conscience, my 
 dearest wife, has a claim superior to the wishes 
 and prayers of your husband; and whatever 
 may be your decision, I will neither reproach
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 171 
 
 you for tlie false hopes you permitted me to 
 form, nor love you the less for this second and 
 most bitter disappointment." 
 
 The unusual tenderness of his tone and man- 
 ner drew fresh tears down the cheeks of Matilda. 
 She wanted the moral courage to fulfil what she 
 knew to be her duty. She wanted firmness of 
 mind to control the gentle impulses of her af- 
 fectionate heart. The delight of imparting hap- 
 piness to her husband proved irresistible ! 
 
 *' I have no right to oppose obstacles to your 
 plans," she faltered. — " Yow judgment ought 
 to decide me, 2/onr will to be my law. — What- 
 ever course you choose to take in this matter, 
 .shall have my utmost support." 
 
 " My dearest Matilda !" exclaimed Norman, 
 pressing her hand with rapture, "this compliance 
 renders me the happiest of men. If you could 
 imagine how those detestable Normans have 
 latterly embittered my existence, — if you could 
 guess what gloomy thoughts have been passing 
 through my mind ! — But all my vexations are 
 ended by your amiable self-sacrifice. I am con- 
 vinced that the true happiness of our life is now 
 I 2
 
 172 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 beginning. We shall see every thing in a 
 different light the moment we invest our 
 prospects in the destinies of a little being who 
 will grow up under our eyes, fashioned by our 
 opinions, and attached by our tenderness." 
 
 Though cheered by the elation of her hus- 
 band, Matilda did not inwardly share his en- 
 thusiasm. She could imagine these ecstasies 
 arising for a child of their own, but not for an 
 alien. 
 
 <' My plan is," resumed Sir Richard (resolved 
 not to let the courage of Matilda cool a second 
 time), "to select an infant at the hospital of the 
 Enfans trouves, and make it mine by legal 
 adoption. Five or six, sometimes a dozen, 
 wretched babes are daily received there; so 
 that at any moment the choice will be easy. 
 You have, however, been so much seen and 
 admired here, my dearest wife, that several 
 months ought to elapse before your pretended 
 accouchement takes place. This period we 
 must pass in retirement, no matter where. In 
 May, we can return to Paris, and accomplish 
 our scheme."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 173 
 
 "But all this cannot be done without taking 
 others into our confidence," said Matilda ; her 
 heart sinking at the prospect of the load of 
 hypocrisy she was about to assume. 
 
 " Certainly not. But such things are by no 
 means uncommon. Money will secure me the 
 co-operation of a nurse and physician, who need 
 know nothing of our real name and rank in life." 
 
 ** But our own servants? — " 
 
 " With the exception of your personal atten- 
 dant, it will be ' easy to deceive them. Mrs. 
 Vaux you must contrive to dismiss, and send 
 home." 
 
 '' That will be very difficult. — Vaux is such a 
 faithful attached creature ! She has been with 
 me ever since my marriage," pleaded Lady 
 Norman. 
 
 " An excellent plea to propose her retirement 
 on a pension. She has some marriage engage- 
 ment, if I remember V 
 
 " To your head keeper at Selwood." 
 
 " Tell her then that, as we are about to travel, 
 you will require the services of a foreigner.
 
 174 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 I will pay her expenses home, and secure her 
 an annuity of twenty pounds a-year." 
 
 " Poor Vaux !" sighed Lady Norman. 
 
 '' My dear Matilda, she would not under any 
 circumstances have remained with you long; 
 and, depend on it, the poor woman will be en- 
 chanted with her change of prospects." 
 
 But even the certainty of becoming Mrs. 
 Ghrimes ten years sooner than she had expected 
 to be rescued from the odium of spinsterhood, 
 did not reconcile poor Vaux to so sudden a part- 
 ing from the kind mistress to whom she was at- 
 tached. Lady Norman's sweetness of character 
 was eminently displayed in considerations for 
 her servants and dependants ; and though the 
 waiting-maid was too well acquainted with 
 the arbitrary temper of Sir Richard to hazard 
 opposition to a decree emanating from her mas- 
 ter, she departed with secret indignation rankling 
 in her heart, that she should have been super- 
 seded by a *' vile, artful, designing, intriguing, 
 Italian," in whose service to my lady, Mrs. 
 Vaux predicted to all at Selwood, that no good 
 was intended.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 175 
 
 Matilda's task of deceit was now beginning 
 in earnest. Sir Richard required her to make to 
 her family and friends the announcement which 
 he undertook to circulate among her Parisian 
 acquaintances; and though Matilda found it 
 easy to loiter at home in an invalid cap and loose 
 morning- wrapper, with Norman for her con- 
 stant companion, and an endless supply of new 
 books, music, and works for her recreation, she 
 recoiled from the office of deliberately indit- 
 ing a falsehood to the Ravenscrofts and her 
 father. 
 
 Nevertheless, it must be done. Sir Richard 
 assured her that the step was indispensable ; and 
 at the close of one of her lively letters to Sophy, 
 she accordingly added, " I look forward with 
 delight to my return next autumn to dear Sel- 
 wood ; and do not be surprised if I bring you a 
 little stranger, to claim a share of the fondness 
 which you have often told me you feel for the 
 infant species, before they grow old enough to 
 be troublesome." 
 
 By this equivocation, Matilda hoped to satisfy 
 her conscience; yet when the implied untruth
 
 176 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 was written, she closed her letter with a burning 
 blush, without hazarding a reperusal ; " look 
 on't again, she dare not ! — " 
 
 Towards her father, the task of dissimula- 
 tion was still more difficult. By Mr. Maule's 
 desire, she corresponded with' him from time 
 to time; but her sister Elizabeth was the 
 person charged with answering Lady Nor- 
 man's letters. Now Elizabeth was almost as 
 straightforward and downright as her father. 
 With the delicacy and warmth of feeling 
 becoming her age and sex, she united a degree 
 of high moral principle, which her seclusion from 
 the ways of the world had maintained without 
 spot or blemish. To her honest-hearted, plain- 
 worded family, therefore, Matilda felt that even 
 the whitest of lies was far more difficult to insi- 
 nuate, than it would have been to bestow the 
 blackest upon a Lady Dawlish or a Lady Ar- 
 thur D . 
 
 The hint which was to convey the intelligence 
 of her prospects of a family, was however at 
 length written and despatched ; and Matilda's 
 spirit sank rebuked when the answer arrived.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 177 
 
 not in the handwriting of Miss Maule, but of 
 her exulting father. The old man's elation 
 knew no bounds. The prospect of being grand- 
 father to a young baronet of large estate, was a 
 vision of glory he had long relinquished ; and 
 his delight appeared to his daughter almost 
 puerile. She no longer thought it childish, how- 
 ever, when she reached the close of the epistle, 
 and perused the solemn prayer and benedic- 
 tion bestowed upon herself and her expected 
 child. He told her that he and his would inter- 
 cede with Heaven in her behalf in her hour of 
 peril; and Matilda's lips grew white with terror 
 at the idea of the imposition she was presuming 
 to practise in the sight of Heaven, upon the 
 father who so honoured its commandments, and 
 whom its commandments enjoined her to honour. 
 She was recalled to herself by a postscript in 
 Tom Cruttenden's handwriting. After divers 
 jocular comments on her laziness in wasting 
 twelve years on a performance which reasonable 
 women complete within one, he informed her 
 that if she chose to return to England, and 
 have the little stranger born as became the son. 
 i3
 
 178 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 of English parents, on English ground, he would 
 endow it, if a boy, with a godfather's token of 
 ten thousand pounds. But alas ! though Ma- 
 tilda knew that it would be a boy, she felt pleased 
 that the necessity for perpetrating her fraud in 
 France, would secure her from imposing upon 
 the generosity of the eccentric friend of her 
 childhood.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 It is one thing to know the rate and dignity of things; and 
 another to know the little nicks and springs of action. — 
 Seneca. 
 
 Towards the close of February, the Normans 
 took possession of the fine old Chateau of St. 
 Sylvain, a short distance from the archiepis- 
 copal palace of Conflans, on the banks of the 
 Seine, and within ready reach of Paris. 
 
 " Frank Villiers and his set will ride down to 
 see us here,'' said Sir Richard, " and Lady 
 DawHsh and Lady Arthur visit you, and report 
 you on their return to be on the sick list. A 
 lounging-chair and wrapping-dress will suffice." 
 
 "Would that it were all over," replied
 
 180 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Matilda with a sigh. " The caresses of a 
 dear little creature brought up to love me as 
 its mother, may reconcile me to this duplicity ; 
 but the preliminaries are indeed odious." 
 
 Apprehensive that her patience might fail 
 in the tediousness of the trial, Sir Richard 
 now rarely quitted her side. Every day 
 brought down from Paris some costly trinket 
 or interesting work for her amusement ; while 
 the bitter envy of Lady Catherine was excited 
 by the exhibition at Minette's of a splendid 
 layette, and at Lesage's of a harcelonnettc of 
 the richest materials, for the use of the expected 
 heir of Selvvood Manor. 
 
 One morning, about a week after their instal- 
 ment. Sir Richard, having ridden into Paris to 
 execute some trifling commission for his wife, 
 a caUclie containing Lady Arthur and Lady 
 Dawlish drove into the courtyard ; and Lady 
 Norman's hospitalities were claimed for the day. 
 
 " We know you must be ennuyee a ptrir 
 here," cried Lady Arthur, " and intend 
 to spend the morning and dine with you." 
 And though a bright March sun was glittering
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 181 
 
 upon gay parterres, bright with hyacinths, 
 tuHps, and anemones, the two fine ladies would 
 not be enticed out, but drew towards the fire 
 to enjoy a long day's chat with the pretended 
 invalid. 
 
 '' How on earth do you get rid of yourself in 
 this impossible place?" — cried the affected Lady 
 Arthur, looking round with an air of com- 
 passion. 
 
 '^ On laisse passer le temps /" replied Matilda, 
 with a languid smile. 
 
 '^ Triste ressource !" ohservedi Lady Dawlish, 
 shrugging her shoulders ,• '' but of course you 
 intend to return to Paris for your confine- 
 ment ? — " 
 
 « I— I— hardly know " 
 
 " Not know ? — and next month so near ? — 
 Quite a heroine, I protest !" said Lady Dawlish, 
 with a sneering smile. " I suppose your 
 Bonapartean clique have persuaded you to have 
 Evrat, Dubois, or some other wretch belonging to 
 the household of Josephine or Marie Louise ? — " 
 " I really canhot say. I leave all such mat- 
 ters to the choice of Sir Richard."
 
 182 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 «« Of Sir Richard ?" ejaculated Lady Daw- 
 lish, — " and with all your pattern propriety 
 and delicacy of feeling ? — Surely you had better 
 consult Madame de Montrond as to whom would 
 be appointed for such an office, were Madame 
 to delight us with an heir to the throne ? — " 
 
 '* I cannot fancy those who are so recently 
 returned from emigration, better skilled than 
 ourselves to pronounce upon the professional 
 eminence of Paris," replied Matilda, as calmly 
 as she could. 
 
 " People in a certain station of life are in- 
 formed of everything," persisted Lady Daw- 
 lish. " Nothing, for instance, escapes the 
 knowledge of the chateau." 
 
 " Nevertheless," remonstrated Lady Arthur, 
 " I was the first to mention last night to 
 Madame de Montrond the report generally 
 prevalent of Napoleon's escape from Elba. He 
 promised, you know, to be back in Paris with 
 the violets." 
 
 " The violets are here already," said Matilda, 
 pointing to a vase of fresh-gathered Parma 
 violets on the gueridon standing near her sofa.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 183 
 
 " And the petit Caporal, they say, not far 
 distant," added Lady Arthur. 
 
 " Absurd !" retorted Lady Dawlish. *' As if 
 the people permitted to enjoy once more the 
 decencies of legitimate monarchy, would ever 
 for a moment tolerate again the tyranny of an 
 upstart !" 
 
 " Madame de Montrond did not seem to 
 think it by any means absurd." 
 
 " Why, what did she say on the subject ? — " 
 
 " Nothing ! or she would have taken her 
 course of lessons from Talleyrand to very little 
 purpose. But she dismissed her whisperers an 
 hour earlier than usual, and scudded off along 
 the galleries towards the back stairs." 
 
 " To alarm the king ? — " 
 
 • ' As if anything short of the probability of 
 a national famine could rouse up ce cher gros papa 
 de roi ! When Napoleon is within an hour's march 
 of Paris, the king will perhaps think of packing 
 up the royal casseroles and comestibles^ commp 
 Pierrot, qui a toujour s peur et toujours faim /" 
 
 *' How can you condescend to retail the 
 mauvaises plaisanteries of the newspapers !"
 
 184 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 said Lady Dawlish, yawning. '' Napoleon is as 
 likely to be within a day's march of Paris, as 
 you and I a day's journey of Pekin ! — " 
 
 " Nous verrons /" replied Lady Arthur, with 
 similar sang froid, while Matilda trembled as 
 she listened. The return of Napoleon must 
 necessitate the flight of the English from Paris ; 
 and in her own country, how painful, how 
 impossible, to persevere in the imposture to 
 which .she had been pledged by her husband ! 
 To her ears, the reports so vaguely cited by 
 Lady Arthur D. were of terrible import ; and as 
 the day wore away, the necessity of entertaining 
 her two languid guests while her thoughts were 
 thus grievously pre-engrossed, wore down her 
 spirits. Never had she so eagerly longed for 
 the return of Sir Richard ; and when the dusk 
 drew on, she dreaded lest lights should be 
 brought and reveal to her companions the 
 changes of her countenance. 
 
 The sounding of the hall bell at length an- 
 nounced the return of her husband ; and start- 
 ing from her sofa, regardless of the presence of 
 her visitors, she rushed to the door to receive
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 185 
 
 him and gather from his lips the tidings 
 so momentous to her happiness. But lo ! 
 the hand she seized, in addressing the tall 
 figure she imagined to be that of Norman, 
 responded to her grasp by a cordial hearty 
 shake; while an unfamiliar voice saluted her 
 with — '« Here's a surprise, Matty ! — Who'd 
 have thought of us two meeting among the 
 parleyvoos ! But I warrant Fm grown out of 
 your recollection ? — " 
 
 The candles at that moment borne in before 
 Sir Richard Norman, which revealed to him the 
 inopportune presence of Matilda's fashionable 
 visitors, displayed to Matilda the gaunt figure 
 of an uncouth young man, whom she had little 
 difficulty in recognising as her brother, Crut- 
 tenden Maule ; and while her husband hast- 
 ened to offer a hollow welcome to her two 
 friends, Lady Norman was grieved to feel that 
 her own reception of her brother was scarcely 
 more sincere. Her conscience reproved her 
 that she regarded in the light of a serious 
 evil this interview with one of her nearest 
 kindred. But Master Crutt., the spoiled child
 
 186 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 of the whimsical old torment of her youth, was 
 too self-satisfied a person to take heed of her 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " I fancy I have given you a surprise, eh ! 
 Matty ?" — cried he, taking a place on the sofa by 
 her side. " Sir Richard tells me you never got 
 Betsy's letter announcing my visit. Well, a 
 pleasure's all the greater for popping on one 
 unawares ! — I took up my quarters last night at 
 your place in Paris, not knowing you was moved ; 
 and, by good luck, Sir Richard looked in to- 
 day, and gave me a lift down here in his cab." 
 
 " It was very kind of you to come so great a 
 distance to see me," said Matilda faintly, per- 
 ceiving that the eye-glass of Lady Dawlish was 
 fixed wonderingly on her brother. 
 
 "To see7/ou? — Come, that's a good 'un ! — As 
 if my father would have spared me from business 
 for ten days, if there hadn't been two birds to 
 be killed with one stone. Not so soft as that, I 
 take it ! — Father keeps as strict a hand on us as 
 ever." 
 
 " I never found him otherwise than indul- 
 gent," said Matilda, in a low voice.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 187 
 
 " In your time, may be; but folks grow 
 grumphy as they get in years. Old Crutt/s 
 always putting it into father's head that I'm 
 wilder than other young fellows of my age, — 
 that's Tom's way of shewing kindness, you 
 know.— The greater the favourite, the greater 
 his pains to plague one out of one's life " 
 
 " And was it Mr. Cruttenden, then, who 
 suggested your journey to Paris?" inquired 
 Matilda, dreading lest a pause in Sir Richard's 
 conversation with Lady Arthur should expose 
 to their criticism the coarseness of her brother's 
 tone and manner. 
 
 " Why, for once, father and he were of a 
 mind ! — You see the firm happened to have the 
 luck of a great order from a wholesaF house 
 in Paris, so they thought I'd better come and 
 have a peep at the securities before the goods 
 were made up. — Brother John, you know, sports 
 fine, and won't have nothing to say to the busi- 
 ness, — John's going to take orders. (Old Crutt. 
 says Ms orders will never bring him in the value 
 of ours!) Father's just bought him a fine liv- 
 incf in Yorkshire."
 
 188 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " And William ?" 
 
 " Bill's got his head turned t'other way ! — 
 Bill's all for soldiering; and he's persuaded 
 father to lodge money at Greenwood's for the 
 purchase of a cornetcy for him. Fm the only 
 one of the family that sticks to the main chance. 
 I never had the least spice of the book-worm in 
 me, like John; or the least taste for sporting 
 copper-lace outside my jacket, like Master Bill. 
 Business is my mark ; it comes as natural to me as 
 Burton ale after Cheshire ! — Tom Crutt. wanted 
 to send me to college with John, when we left 
 Rugby ; but I thanked him for nothing, and said 
 I'd as lief go to the treadmill. So I'm to be taken 
 into partnership next year, and when father and 
 old Cruttenden drop, may be I shall buy out 
 Wickset, and have the whole thing to myself. 
 There'll be a go, eh ! Matty ? — ' Cruttenden 
 Maule' will look a plaguy deal more knowing, 
 painted on the wagons, and copper- plated at the 
 head of a folio, than Maule, Cruttenden, Wick- 
 set, and Co. ! — No * Co.' for me ! I'll be my 
 own master, or nothing ; — a man or a mouse." 
 
 <* Do you think of remaining long in Paris ?"
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 189 
 
 " Can't justly say till Sir Richard has stepped 
 up with me to the Marry, as they call it, where 
 these parleyvooing rascals have their compting- 
 house. There's few of *em, I find, can speak 
 plain English, like reasonable beings; and I 
 don't pretend to understand their outlandish 
 lingo. However, when Sir Richard's brought us 
 to a deal, if I find the parties good men as they 
 pretend, the sooner I'm out of their filthy city 
 of holes and corners, the better. Old Crutt. 
 said at parting he'd warrant I wasn't the chap 
 to waste my time and money among lantern- 
 jawed pickpockets of Frenchmen; and I mean 
 to prove his words." 
 
 Matilda's satisfaction at the assurance was 
 damped by finding that her fastidious friends 
 had been attentive auditors to this ill-timed 
 expose of her family affairs. Nor could she 
 refrain from grieving that, instead of being able 
 to present to them her mild, intelligent, well- 
 mannered, elder brother, she was compelled to 
 see their wonderment excited by the ill-bred 
 familiarity of the adopted darling of Tom Crut- 
 tenden. The contrast between his unformed.
 
 190 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 ungainly person, and the flashy style of dress 
 sported by the provincial buck, produced a 
 ludicrous effect ; and when, on being offered 
 by the maitre dliotel, at dinner, an entree^ one 
 of the chef d'ceuvres of Sir Richard's eminent 
 chef de cuisine, he exclaimed in an audible 
 voice, " Oh ! hang your messes ! — -Give me a 
 cut of mutton and a potatoe, and I wont 
 trouble your hashes and kickshaws !" — Lady 
 Arthur could no longer repress her laughter. 
 
 " I trust, Mr. Maule," said she, maliciously 
 singlinghim out for conversation, '^ that although 
 you profess not to understand the language of 
 the country, you met with no difficulties on the 
 road?—" 
 
 *^ None in the least, my lady," replied Crutt. 
 with a knowing smirk. " Folks must get up 
 early in the morning who manage to take me in ; 
 and I was put up to snuff before I set out. I 
 kept my valeese, as they call it, in my hand, 
 every place we stopped at, and managed to arrive 
 without losing a rag. If it wasn't for the plague 
 of the custom-house (where the shameful smug- 
 gling of the English quality makes 'em deuced
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 191 
 
 sharp), I should have had no hindrance to 
 complain of." 
 
 " Were there any letters for me in Paris ?" 
 inquired Matilda of her husband, having already 
 obtained from him a vague assurance that no 
 political news was stirring confirmative of Lady 
 Arthur's intelligence. «' Any visits — any cards ?" 
 
 " Guerchant has been several times there, 
 and having taken down our address, intends, I 
 suppose, to pay us a visit." 
 
 " Guerchant ! — one of the canaille of 
 Bonaparte? — " said Lady Dawlish, drawing 
 up. 
 
 " Admiral Guerchant, — a peer of France and 
 a most distinguished man," observed Sir Richard, 
 gravely. 
 
 " A peer ! — you might as well talk of the 
 peerage of a Scotch lord of Session !" persisted 
 her Ladyship, with undisguised contempt. 
 
 <' Why, you don't mean, Matty, that you 
 meddle or make with folks that ever belonired 
 to the natural enemy of your country, — the 
 worst wretch that ever was sent on earth for the 
 punishment of mankind ?" — vociferated Crut-
 
 192 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 tenden Maule, speaking rather thick, after his 
 third glass of champagne. 
 
 '* Sir Richard, you know, is liberal in his 
 politics," observed Matilda, watching him with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Oh, he's liberal, is he ?" said her brother with 
 a boisterous laugh. *« Old Crutt. swears there 
 an't a greater joke in nature, than the liberalism 
 of the English quality ! — ' A liberal lord's much 
 the same as a warm frost !' says Tom. « Great 
 cry and little wool among 'em, as the barber 
 said when shearing Solomon's pigs ! — There's 
 our Sir Richard,' says Tom, ' fancies himself 
 a liberal, 'cause by sticking to the whigs he 
 hopes to carry the Cartholic question; but in 
 every thing else,' says Tom, ' Sir Richard's as 
 stiff a tory as Queen Elizabeth i Why it stands 
 to reason, that people in his situation of life 
 must be for the maintenance of all outstanding 
 abuses, — pension-lists, and place-givings ; 'cause, 
 sooner or later, he may be the better for 'em. 
 And as to expecting a baronet with a fine rent- 
 roll to help and pull down hereditary rights, 
 'tisn't a thing in nature ! — Sir Richard's as
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 193 
 
 clear a case of conservative,' says Tom, ' as ever 
 I clapt an eye on.' " 
 
 '* Bravo, Mr. Maule, bravo !" cried Lady 
 Arthur, greatly entertained by his eloquence. 
 " Thanks for your announcement of so valuable 
 an addition to our party !" 
 
 '« Your party ?" — retorted the young orator, 
 more bemused than ever, and indignant at the 
 presumption of a giggling woman with a painted 
 face pretending to political entity. *' I sup- 
 pose your ladyship's party means a tea-party, 
 — or a card-party, eh? We've smoked out 
 the she-politicians in our town ! — Bless you, 
 they went and held a meeting one night at the 
 King's Arms, to petition parliament, neither 
 they nor any one else understood for what ; so 
 we gave 'em a touch of the marrow-bones and 
 cleavers to bring 'em to their senses." 
 
 Cruttenden Maule had the pleasure of en- 
 joying to himself the laugh with which he closed 
 his harangue. No applause followed this coarse 
 attack. 
 
 *< I cannot help fearing," said Matilda, red 
 with shame and vexation, *^ that Admiral 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE HElil OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Guerchant^s frequent visits to our Hotel corro- 
 borate the report of Napoleon's disembarkation 
 in France." 
 
 " Napoleon's disembarkation ! — Nap come 
 back again to be Emperor !" — cried Cruttenden, 
 aghast at the idea of collision with the man- 
 monster, the loup-garoUy whom he had been 
 brought up to consider as a being of superna- 
 tural power and wickedness. " And to choose 
 the minute of my being over here in Paris ! — 
 Here's a pretty kettle of fish ! — But I suppose 
 you're only humming me ! — " 
 
 '* Be not uneasy, Sir," replied Lady Daw- 
 lish, with much solemnity ; " Birnam wood 
 may come to Dunsinane, but take my word. 
 Napoleon Bonaparte will never make his ap- 
 pearance again at the Tuileries." 
 
 '* The Tuileries think otherwise," said Lady 
 Arthur. " So much so, that Madame de Mon- 
 trond's panic last night determined Arthur to 
 secure our passports." 
 
 '* It would really be extremely provoking, so 
 early in the season !" observed Lady Dawlish, 
 peevishly, after a moment's consideration of her
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 195 
 
 own plans. *' What could one possibly do 
 with oneself in London, till after Easter ? and 
 it would not be worth while to go down into 
 Yorkshire for a fortnight. It would be a great 
 inconvenience to me should the news prove 
 true.'' 
 
 " Far worse to ^^5," said Lady Arthur, '* for 
 we are no longer in parliament, so that it is in- 
 dispensable for Arthur to remain abroad." 
 
 " You are all in great haste to anticipate evil," 
 interposed Sir Richard. *' Even were Napoleon 
 re-established at the head of affairs, what can 
 be more unlikely than that he would repeat his 
 long-repented blunder of the detention of 
 English tourists ? — It is his object to conciliate 
 the nation." 
 
 " Old Crutt always said there was colloguing 
 going on betwixt the French and the Papists," 
 whispered young Maule, half audibly, to his 
 sister, after swallowing another glass of cham- 
 pagne ; '' and you see he wasn't very wide of 
 the mark." 
 
 '* In that case," said Matilda, replying with 
 great self-command to her husband's previous 
 K 2
 
 196 THE HEIR or SELWOOD. 
 
 remark, " the best thing we can do is to re- 
 main here. I have not the slightest fear. I 
 have no doubt the report will prove a stock- 
 jobbing fabrication." 
 
 Before she could conclude the sentence the 
 door was thrown open, and Colonel Villiers 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " Villiers ! — and on opera night ? this is 
 really kind of you," said Sir Richard, heartily 
 wishing him at the antipodes. " A glass of 
 Mouton after your drive ?" 
 
 But Villiers was too deeply engaged in 
 inquiring after the health of Lady Norman, 
 and marvelling whom the uncouth savage by 
 her side could be, to reply to the invita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Do you bring us any news ?'* inquired 
 Matilda. 
 
 "= Nothing since five o'clock. The telegraph 
 is, of course, dumb at this hour. — " 
 
 " The telegraph !" cried Cruttenden Maule, 
 gazing with open eyes on the slender young 
 gentleman so much at ease with himself and 
 the world.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 197 
 
 " Napoleon is at Lyons, and the Tuileries off 
 for Gand," added Colonel Villiers, with perfect 
 sang-froid, nodding to Norman over his wine. 
 
 " Authentic ?" — demanded his mother. 
 
 " Beyond dispute. Old Tal. left Paris for 
 Belgium five hours ago." 
 
 '* Then all is lost !" replied Lady Dawlish, 
 with her usual listlessness. " Relapse is worse 
 than disease. These wretched French will 
 never a second time submit to the restoration of 
 the Bourbons." 
 
 " Restoration of the Bourbons!'^ — ejacu- 
 lated Cruttenden Maule. " Who the devil 
 cares for the Bourbons ! — What's to become of 
 usr 
 
 " I beg you will be under no apprehension. 
 Lady Dawlish," said Villiers, addressing his 
 mother ; «' I have sent off a courier to secure 
 horses for you to Brussels, and apartments at 
 the Belle Vue." 
 
 " But why not secure horses towards England 
 at once ?" 
 
 ** Most of our set are going to Brussels. As
 
 198 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 well to have the air of accompanying the royal 
 family, eh ?" — replied the Colonel. 
 
 '' Shall we be in any danger then, Sir, by 
 staying in Paris?" demanded Maule. 
 
 Villiers looked amazed to find himself ad- 
 dressed by the anonymous savage ; but answered 
 not a word. 
 
 " I asked whether you thought we should get 
 into any scrape by remaining a day or two in 
 Paris ?'' — again demanded young Crutt. 
 
 «* We have secured horses to Brussels," re- 
 plied Villiers. 
 
 " So I heard you say. But me, and Matty, 
 and the rest of us ?" 
 
 " The rest of you ?" — retorted the Colonel, 
 clearly of opinion that the world could produce 
 no duplicate of so monstrous a vulgarian. 
 
 " I mean all the English in Paris ?" 
 
 " Cannot presume to give an opinion, Sir. — 
 The Hotel Belle Vue would scarcely contain 
 them, nor anything else, I imagine, short of the 
 capacities of Noah's Ark — eh ?" added he, turn- 
 ing, with a fastidious smile, to Lady Arthur D.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 199 
 
 " After all, then, it may tarn out vastly plea- 
 sant," observed Lady Dawlish, addressing her 
 exclusive friend and confederate. " We shall 
 muster strong at Brussels ; and a month or two 
 hence, one might try Spa." 
 
 " Have you seen Arthur, — and what are his 
 plans ?" inquired Lady Arthur of the Colonel. 
 
 " We all start at daylight. He makes our 
 arrangements in Paris, while / undertake to 
 fetch your ladyship and my mother home. Not 
 an hour to be lost if we mean to countenance 
 the king." 
 
 " What a pity that we can't all start toge- 
 ther !" cried Maule. " It*s madness to talk of 
 staying here, and tempting Nap ! — There's no 
 saying how he may take things, in revenge for 
 his twelve months spent in quod ! — Matty, I 
 won't hear of your remaining here ! — Be reason- 
 able, and set off to-morrow morning with my 
 lady and the rest of your friends. — " 
 
 " Do not concern yourself. Sir, on Lady Nor- 
 man's account," said Sir Richard, sternly. " / 
 am the person responsible for her safety. But 
 as you appear uneasy, and your negotiations in
 
 200 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Paris are at an end, I strongly advise you to 
 lose no time in hastening home." 
 
 '* Thank you for nothing !— you won't have 
 twice to tell me that /" cried Crutt. " Catch me 
 in Paris this time to-morrow, and Til say some- 
 thing to you ! — Why, if /was to be made pri- 
 soner of war, our business at home would go all 
 to smash ; it's as much as they can go to keep 
 matters straight without me when I spin over to 
 Cheltenham for a week's lark. May be, these 
 ladies and gentlemen would give me a cast back 
 to Paris to-night ?" 
 
 '« My carriage is at your service," replied 
 Norman, resolved not to afford so rich a treat 
 at his expense to Frank Villiers and Lady Ar- 
 thur as would be afforded by the company of 
 his brother-in-law. And when, at the close of 
 an anxious half hour to Matilda, her fair friends 
 took leave of her with a cool '* a revoir /" — as if 
 they were engaged to meet again the following 
 night at the opera, rather than to part to en- 
 counter the terror of civil war, — Sir Richard ac- 
 companied them to Colonel Villiers's dormeuse, 
 and instead of returning immediately to the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 201 
 
 drawing-room, gave circumstantial orders to his 
 confidential English servant to accompany Mr. 
 Maule back to Paris, and accelerate as far as 
 possible his preparations for departure from the 
 country. 
 
 " Your arrival here still seems like a dream," 
 observed Matilda, when at length she found 
 herself tete-a-t^te with her brother. 
 
 " And a deuced ugly dream it's beginning to 
 be !" cried Crutt, taking possession of the fire- 
 place, and rubbing his legs. 
 
 " Surely you will remain till to-morrow morn- 
 ing ?" resumed his sister, kindly. 
 
 " If you'll engage to set off back with me to 
 England ?'' 
 
 '* Impossible ! We have innumerable ar- 
 rangements to make, previous to taking such a 
 step. But I want to ask you a thousand ques- 
 tions about my father, — about my sisters and 
 brothers, — about home, — Surely you might re- 
 main till to-morrow morning? — " 
 
 " And be snapt up before I know what I am 
 about, till the next peace ! — No, no ! — I tell 
 you, Matty, 'twould be the ruin of the business 
 k3
 
 202 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 and the family, if anything was to happen to 
 me, I was loth enough to come, only father 
 and Tom Cruttenden would make me. The 
 truth is," he continued, lowering his voice, and 
 looking suspiciously towards the door, " they've 
 got it into their foolish heads that you're not so 
 happy as you pretend to be, in foreign parts, 
 and that you are not at liberty to say so. So, 
 knowing me to be pretty sharp, old Tom pro- 
 posed my making a pretence of the deal we'd 
 got the offer of, to start for Paris, and see how 
 the land was lying ; and father bid me say 
 that if you'd the least mind to come back, and 
 money was the obstacle, to make no bones of 
 drawing upon Maule, Cruttenden, Wickset and 
 Co. for whatever was wanting. — Money ought 
 not to be a hindrance, Matty, to any whim you 
 may take just now !" 
 
 '* Believe me, pecuniary considerations have 
 nothing to do with the case," said Lady Norman, 
 colouring deeply. 
 
 '^ So much the worse, — so much the worse !" — 
 cried young Maule, — the kindly warmth of his 
 uncouth nature becoming apparent the moment
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 203 
 
 he began to anticipate evil for his sister ; " for so 
 long as there was hope that matters might be 
 mended by the ready, no fear of things turning 
 out cross, so long as Cruttenden Maule acts as 
 cashier to the concern ! — But mum ! for here 
 comes Sir Richard ! — Not a word to him ! — 
 only, whenever the wind wants raising, for your 
 own wants or wishes, please to remember which 
 way it sets." 
 
 A hearty shake of the hand concluded this 
 unpolished harangue ; and the tears which 
 Matilda had with difficulty restrained through- 
 out the evening, fell profusely at this demon- 
 stration of the untiring affection and liberality 
 of her neglected family. Poor Maule, mean- 
 while, attributing her emotion to the grief of 
 parting from him so abruptly, bad her cheer 
 up, and not be down-hearted on his account ; 
 that he would write from Paris, — Calais, — 
 London, — Dover, — his home, — to satisfy her 
 misgivings on his account. 
 
 At that moment, Sir Richard re-entered the 
 room. The stifled sobs of his wife, and the 
 earnestness with which her brother was attempt-
 
 204 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 ing to console her, instantly excited suspicions 
 in his mind, and threw an additional shade of 
 loftiness into his adieus to the untutored lad, 
 who had come so far, to a country he abhorred, 
 and of whose very language he was ignorant, on 
 an errand of service to the alienated daughter 
 of his father's house ! —
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Valiant ? Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth 
 of a Russian bear ! — You may as well say that's a valiant 
 flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Though aware that her husband's eyes were 
 fixed upon her in surprise and displeasure, Lady 
 Norman gave free course to her tears when the 
 carriage containing her brother rolled from the 
 gates of the chS,teau. The quickly following 
 events of that harassing day had overpowered 
 her. The visit of her inquisitive friends, the 
 arrival of her brother, and, above all, the great 
 incident, bringing with it so vast a train of evils 
 and perplexities, filled her with emotion. Could 
 it really be the intention of Sir Richard to ex-
 
 206 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 pose her, for the furtherance of his guilty pro- 
 jects, to dangers which were driving from Paris 
 the rest of his countrymen ? — 
 
 Perplexed by misgivings touching the motives 
 of such singular obstinacy, she sat concealing 
 with her hands her tearful eyes and throbbing 
 brow. Unmindful that he was pacing the 
 room with hurried footsteps, she took no note 
 of his presence, till she found one of her hands 
 suddenly snatched with an agitated grasp, and 
 saw that Sir Richard was kneeling beside her 
 chair. 
 
 " Matilda!" said he, in a faltering voice, 
 — " these tears, these murmurs, are a reproach 
 greater than I can bear ! — Notwithstanding your 
 exemplary resignation to my wishes, I discern 
 all your terrors, all your griefs ; — and my re- 
 morse is indeed bitter ! — I have involved you in 
 a maze of difficulty and deceit. — I have plunged 
 you into anxieties, how little to have been ap- 
 prehended at such a moment, your own judg- 
 ment must assure you. — And it is too late to 
 recede ! — Believe it, on the attestation of the 
 anguish that now distracts my mind, dearest, it
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 207 
 
 is too late to recede. The suspicions of the 
 Normans are awakened. Already they are 
 keeping watch upon our movements, which, only 
 by remaining here, I shall be able to defeat. 
 The importunate intrusion of those two detest- 
 able women this morning, was a mere visit of 
 observation, suggested by Lady Catherine Nor- 
 man. Often repeated (as it would be were you 
 to fall at Brussels into their coterie), the 
 frankness of your ingenuous nature would break 
 through all disguise. Answer me candidly, — 
 were you not, during their presence here, re- 
 peatedly on the point of betraying yourself?" — 
 
 " I own it," replied Lady Norman, with a 
 profound sigh ; " for deceit weighs heavy upon 
 my soul. I was reared in the fear of God and 
 the paths of truth. I cannot, without remorse 
 of conscience, take this guilt upon my head." 
 
 " Once more, then, I throw myself upon your 
 mercy !" cried Norman, excited almost to frenzy. 
 " Once more, and for the last time, I appeal 
 to your affection for a concession such as never 
 woman yet had power to vouchsafe unto a hus-
 
 208 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 band. Tell me honestly and decisively that you 
 have not courage to confront the annoyances 
 which may await us here, and even now, at the 
 eleventh hour, I will renounce my projects — 
 submit to my mortification — defy the laughter 
 of the world, and griefs more poignant than 
 you can guess ! — But if you have fortitude and 
 self-command to sacrifice, for my sake, a woman's 
 trivial fears, I swear to you that you will attach 
 me to your feet by more than any common tie 
 of human tenderness ; — you will render your 
 wayward, capricious husband, humble as becomes 
 the obligation you confer, and grateful as he 
 ought ever to have been for your unchanging 
 gentleness and love ! — " 
 
 Sir Richard was convulsed with tears as he 
 uttered this earnest expostulation ; and unused 
 to such vivid demonstrations of feeling, Matilda 
 listened with a degree of emotion almost equal 
 to his own. But soon, her perturbation subsided 
 as a deeper sorrow took possession of her soul. 
 
 " Deal fairly with me !" — said she, involun- 
 tarily withdrawing her hand. " Admit that
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. '209 
 
 there are circumstances connected with your 
 present plans, either beyond your power to 
 divulge, or beyond your inclination ?" 
 
 " / do /" — replied Norman, meeting with firm 
 but not unfeeling steadiness the inquiring glances 
 of his wife. '* Were my wishes and hopes alone 
 concerned, God knows that I would sacrifice 
 them to appease your slightest anxiety — far 
 more, your present reasonable and well-grounded 
 uneasiness. But there is much which I am 
 solemnly pledged to bear and to conceal, in 
 bearing and concealing which, I have not the 
 shadow of right to require your co-operation. 
 There have been moments, indeed, when I have 
 fancied it better to give myself up to ruin, and 
 fling away my life and honour, rather than bind 
 you to the fulfilment of a promise extorted in a 
 moment of too confiding love. But the welfare 
 and peace of mind of others are staked upon the 
 issue ; and for their sakes, I feel it a duty to 
 appeal once more to the affection you have 
 sometimes professed to bear me. Yet, should 
 this influence be insufficient to weigh with you 
 in my favour, I submit without a murmur ! —
 
 210 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Neither now nor evermore, shall a word of re- 
 proach or irritation betray the extent of my dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 " You have justly calculated on the weak- 
 ness of my nature," said Matilda, — voluntarily 
 restoring the hand she had mechanically with- 
 dra^yn. 
 
 " Say rather on its generosity /" — interrupted 
 Norman, in a depressed voice, pressing it to his 
 lips. " You are kinder to me than I deserve." 
 
 " I make no demands upon your confidence," 
 resumed Matilda, vexed by a demonstration of 
 tenderness which she regarded as hypocritical. 
 " There are mysteries upon which, perhaps, 
 even a wife has no right to encroach ; but, while 
 admitting the insufficiency of our privileges, 
 I claim at least justice at your hands. If 
 I renounce for your sake the susceptibility 
 (or, — let me do myself justice, — the sensibility) 
 of my sex, lay aside in your turn the reserve 
 with which you deteriorate the happiness I 
 should otherwise find in rendering you ser- 
 vice. — Do not exact from me the sacrifices of a 
 friend, and treat me with the mistrust due to an
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 211 
 
 enemy. — Do not again expose me to the sneers 
 which my incertitude with respect to our plans, 
 drew this morning from Lady Arthur and Lady 
 Dawlish. Let me know definitively what I am 
 to do, — say, — suffer, — and it shall be suffered, 
 done, and said. In one word, are we, under 
 every possible contingency, to remain here? — " 
 
 '« We are." 
 
 " 'Tis well ! — Such then shall be my answer 
 should the Guerchants visit St. Sylvain, as you 
 anticipate. And next, what motive am I to as- 
 sign for my resolution ? — " 
 
 " Your own choice," replied Sir Richard, in 
 a less assured voice — '* your disinclination to 
 hazard a removal at such a moment." 
 
 " And when do you intend the event to take 
 place which is to set us at liberty ?" — demanded 
 Matilda, — an involuntary accent of scorn ming- 
 ling in her usually gentle voice. 
 
 " Abo«t the middle of April. I have made 
 every arrangement to that effect. Madame 
 Gervais (the woman I have engaged to attend 
 you according to the custom of most French 
 ladies of your rank in life) has been placed in
 
 212 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 confidence, and secured by a considerable bribe. 
 At the period specified, she will arrive here late 
 one evening, with an infant selected for the 
 purpose at the hospital of the Maternite, or 
 Enfans trouves, where my man of business un- 
 dertakes the legal act of adoption without com- 
 promising my name. The following morning, 
 it will be announced to the family that you are 
 a mother ; and the infant furtively introduced 
 into the house by Madame Gervais,'will thence- 
 forward pass for your own." 
 
 " Thanks !" — replied Lady Norman, uncon- 
 scious of the air of bitterness infused into her 
 tones and glances. " I have now learnt my 
 lesson, and am content. — It is some years since 
 I placed my happiness in your keeping, and re- 
 signed my will to your disposal. May this second 
 and gratuitous act of submission bring forth the 
 good fruits you promise ! — '* 
 
 " Forgive me," cried Norman, *' if, instead of 
 grateful acknowledgments ever unworthy the 
 extent of my obligations, I further ask of you an 
 avowal which may be painful to your feelings : 
 was this extraordinary visit of your brother
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 213 
 
 prompted solely by its ostensible motive ? — Do 
 I not rightly guess that your family entertain 
 some suspicion of the truth ? — " 
 
 " You wrong them," replied Matilda, calmly. 
 «' Rude and uncivilized, you may have a right to 
 consider them ; but there is not one among the 
 inmates of my father's house capable of imagin- 
 ing so vile a proceeding as that in which we are 
 enffasred." 
 
 Sir Richard's usual irritability suflPused his 
 cheek for a moment. But he was in no position 
 to hazard provocation. He felt, at that moment, 
 with grievous consciousness, the superiority over 
 himself with which he had been forced to invest 
 his wife. 
 
 '* But to deal with you as candidly as I have 
 required you to deal with myself," resumed Lady 
 Norman, " my brother's journey to France had 
 other motives than the one avowed. — My family, 
 more tender of my happiness than I deserve, 
 fear that I am detained here against my will ; 
 — that my heart, on the eve of the event I have 
 falsely announced to them, may be yearning
 
 214 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 after home, — friends, — comforts, — affection ; 
 — and accordingly despatched my brother to 
 offer me the means of returning to the security 
 of Selwood Manor, in case that motives of 
 economy detained us abroad. You must for- 
 give my father," continued Lady Norman, in 
 a faltering voice. '* My father is an inexpe- 
 rienced, uneducated man. — He has been led to 
 believe that France is a place of peril to his 
 daughter. — He does not reconcile himself to the 
 idea of her encountering the hazards of child- 
 birth among strangers and enemies. — You must 
 forgive my poor old father ! — " 
 
 Subdued by the peculiar tone assumed by 
 Matilda, Sir Richard contented himself with 
 replying — " But after I had so positively as- 
 sured him that pecuniary interests had no share 
 in my proceedings !" — 
 
 " His anxiety on his child's account induced 
 him, I suppose, to fancy that you were deceiv- 
 ing him," replied Matilda; and Norman dared 
 not, as he would have done at any other mo- 
 ment, burst forth into a defence of his own
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 215 
 
 honour and integrity, — the words being scarcely 
 silent upon his lips which conveyed a lesson of 
 deliberate duplicity to his wife. 
 
 The following morning, before the breakfast 
 things were removed. Admiral Guerchant was 
 with them in all the elation of perfect triumph 
 and happiness. Matilda could s'^arcely recognise 
 her cheerful but composed old friend of the 
 Place Royale in the sparkling, excited, re- 
 juvenised man who came to tender the perform- 
 ance of his recent engagements to the stranger 
 in the land. 
 
 ^' How I longed to give you a little hint of 
 what was in the wind, the morning you called 
 upon us ! — Do you remember that last morning 
 you called upon us ?" — said he, addressing Lady 
 Norman. And a pang of reminiscence almost in- 
 duced her to exclaim, " Alas ! how can I forget ! 
 — It was the first dawn of the agonizing sus- 
 picions which have since encompassed my 
 dwelling with a hedge of thorns ! — " 
 
 " All was even then en train^'' resumed the 
 Admiral ; " and both Madame Guerchant and 
 myself burned to assure you that the offer of
 
 216 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 our services was no idle vaunt. You are deter- 
 mined, however, to rise superior to the vulgar 
 terrors of your countrymen, and put your trust 
 in the emperor's justice? — You will not fly from 
 Paris, like all these moths and butterflies of the 
 Wellington coterie ? — " 
 
 " We have no intention of leaving France,'' 
 said Sir Richard, in a constrained manner. 
 
 '' We intend to remain quietly here at the 
 Chateau de St. Sylvain," added Matilda. 
 
 '* The chateau ? — Pardieu, I don't know that 
 I recommend that!" — cried the Admiral. *' Come 
 back into Paris, if you will. — Your term in the 
 Rue de Provence is not yet expired ? — " 
 
 " The hotel belongs to the Due de Vergnies," 
 said Norman, " who, resuming his functions at 
 court, will of course require the use of his resi- 
 dence in town." 
 
 " You conceive, then, that the emperor's field- 
 marshals and grand officiers de la couronne will 
 come down, mainhasse, upon everything they can 
 lay their hands on ?" — demanded the Admiral, 
 with a hearty laugh. " No, no, — law is law, 
 the code, the code, — whether an N or an L be
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 217 
 
 entwined among the vignettes of the golden 
 cornice at the Tuileries ! — If you have a lease of 
 Vergnies's house, it will stand good, even were 
 lie prime-minister, and yourself the second in 
 command to Vilainton, or secretary to Castelri !" 
 
 " I have already received this morning, and 
 answered in the affirmative, a polite request 
 from the Due de Vergnies that, as we are not 
 occupying his house, I would cede it to him for 
 the remainder of the term. I could not without 
 ungraciousness refuse his request." 
 
 " Let that be no obstacle," cried the good 
 Admiral. " / am about to remove to the Hotel 
 de la Marine. The Emperor honours my faith- 
 ful services with a ministerial portfolio, and in 
 the interim, my humble home in the Marais is 
 thoroughly at your service ; unless, indeed, 
 Lady Norman will still further favour us, and, 
 by becoming our inmate at the Admiralty, pro- 
 cure to my good wife the satisfaction of presiding 
 over the birth of your expected son and heir ? 
 'Tis a ceremony, you know, in which my half- 
 dozen married sons and daughters afford her 
 annual experience." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks — a thousand thanks !" — cried 
 Matilda, compassionating the embarrassment 
 of her husband. " But I have made up my 
 mind to remain here. My preparations are 
 completed. I love the quiet of this place ; 
 and, above all, should fear the confusion of a 
 ministerial residence. You do not reflect, my 
 dear good Admiral, that v^^ere any popular tu- 
 mult to occur, your house would be one of the 
 first to be attacked ? — " 
 
 " We don't intend to have any popular tu- 
 mults; — and my house, private or ministerial, has 
 not a chance of being attacked !" — cried Guer- 
 chant. " The Parisians are for once unanimous 
 in their welcome to the Emperor. The w^hole 
 city is in a tumult of joy ; and under every pos- 
 sible vicissitude its good will has attended me. 
 The hadauds have a personal liking for the old 
 man, who has advanced their glory with his 
 blood without opposing their interests in the 
 senate." 
 
 " Still, you will admit that the versatility of 
 their character renders them uncertain allies," 
 pleaded Matilda, with a smile.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 219 
 
 " I admit everything asserted by a fair lady," 
 said the old man, gaily ; " but she must believe 
 in my assurance, on the other hand, that, though 
 perfectly secure in Paris, (where, should she 
 choose it, I will obtain her a piquet of gendar- 
 merie as her body-guard,) she may not be so 
 well off here. — The peasantry are little to be 
 depended upon. — They entertain a deep-seated 
 abhorrence of the English. — Already, they have 
 evinced an intemperate spirit against the allies 
 of the Bourbons, whenever an opportunity has 
 presented itself. If by chance, since your so- 
 journ here at St. Sylvain, that Madame de Mon- 
 trond of yours has paraded her way down to 
 you in one of the royal carriages, the villagers 
 have already marked you as royalists, and will 
 insult, if not otherwise molest you ! — " 
 
 " I am not afraid," — said Matilda, with a 
 fainter smile. " Believe me, I am not afraid. — " 
 
 " Like the Emperor, you trust too largely to 
 your star," replied the Admiral. 
 
 «* She trusts to the influence of her own good 
 deeds," interrupted Norman. " Since her ar- 
 rival here, Matilda has done twice as much for 
 l2
 
 220 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 the village, as the proprietors of St. Sylvain 
 during the last ten years. The people are 
 disposed to worship rather than insult their 
 benefactress." 
 
 " You don't know the French peasantry !" — 
 cried the Admiral. " Their prejudices are fe^ 
 rocious. — They possess a peculiar faculty for 
 hating, — Were your Duke of Vilainton, or your 
 Castelri, to spend fortunes in converting their 
 hovels into palaces or in mending their roads 
 with golden ore, it would not prevent them from 
 mixing poison in his cup, should he ask a 
 draught of water in return ! — " 
 
 " You are doing your utmost to alarm me, I 
 see," said Matilda, with an unchanging counte- 
 nance, *' but I am not to be frighted from my 
 purpose. Be it courage — be it obstinacy, — I am 
 resolved to remain at St. Sylvain. Remember," 
 said she, turning towards her husband with a 
 significant glance, " remember, I charge you, do 
 not let Admiral Guerchant dissuade you from 
 acceding to my wishes." 
 
 Norman thanked her with an eloquent look. 
 
 '* I wish I had more time to devote to the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 22l 
 
 task of persuasion," cried the Admiral, rising to 
 depart. " But my horses* heads are turned to- 
 wards Auxerre, where I am to meet the Em- 
 peror, and assist in escorting him into Paris ; 
 and never bridegroom so longed to look upon 
 the face of bride, as I (God bless him !) upon 
 Napoleon's ! 'Tis twelve months since I parted 
 from him at Fontainebleau. — Even now, I seem 
 to feel the grasp of hand with which he bade 
 me a silent adieu. — He would not hear of my 
 accompanying him to Elba. — He knew the 
 force of family ties upon my heart, and was too 
 generous to hazard the safety of the old tree by 
 rooting it up.-^But I knew that we should have 
 him here again ; — I knew that the wishes of a 
 whole people would not be in vain ; —I knew 
 that the sceptre of an indolent selfish voluptuary 
 was not for the energies of France ! — I was as 
 sure of feeling that grasp upon my old hand 
 again, as I was of life ; or never could I have 
 supported the weight of the last eleven months 
 of humiliation ! — And before night, I shall shake 
 hands with him !" — cried the Admiral, tears glis- 
 tening in his enthusiastic eyes at the thought, —
 
 222 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 "with him^ who was the making of me and mine — 
 with 7im, who knew how to create loyal servants 
 and glorious actions, for he knew how to reward 
 them ! — Sacristie ! how I want to hear his voice 
 again, — even if inflicting one of those reprimands 
 which he could render so terrible ! — But I am 
 running on, and neglecting my duty elsewhere, 
 without compassing any advantage here," he 
 continued, rising and kissing Matilda's hand as 
 a signal for departure. — " I shall be a proud 
 man, fair lady, when 1 see you again ; but I 
 trust it will be under my own roof, where I 
 leave it to Madame Guerchant to determine you 
 to take up your abode."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Sick minds are like sick men that burn with fevers, 
 Who, when they drink, please but a present taste. 
 And after, bear a more impatient fit, — Ben Jonson. 
 
 Though aware that it was impossible to 
 accept the generously offered hospitality of the 
 Guerchants, it was a comfort to Matilda to feel 
 that she had still such friends stationary in Paris. 
 Her brother had notified to her his departure. 
 The English had fled the city, many in real alarm 
 and consternation, others making it a political 
 virtue to demonstrate their attachment to the 
 Tory banner floating over the heads of the fugi- 
 tive Bourbons, — an emblem, at that period, of 
 victory and victory's fruits.
 
 224 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 The Whig baronet had a plausible pretext 
 for not following the flying footsteps of the 
 satellites of Toryism; and Matilda had the 
 comfort of finding the Admiral's prognostica- 
 tions fallacious as regarded the peasantry of 
 St. Sylvain. Flattered by the confidence re- 
 posed in them, and the determination of the 
 opulent English family to remain in France 
 when such legions of their country-people were 
 flying in all directions, they seemed desirous to 
 make proof of their respect towards the inhabi- 
 tants of the chateau, as towards hostages depo- 
 sited in their hands. A week had not elapsed 
 after the triumphant re-entrance of Napoleon, 
 before Lady Norman felt perfectly at ease. 
 Her chief regret arose from the anxieties which 
 she knew would be experienced in her behalf 
 by her friends at home and in Worcester- 
 shire. 
 
 But though at ease on her own account, she 
 was not altogether satisfied, when, instead of 
 giving her credit for self-command. Sir Richard 
 chose to make the position of public affairs a 
 theme for exultation, proclaiming his satisfac-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD, 2"25 
 
 tion in any change of circumstances which 
 secured them from the intrusions of " Lady 
 Dawlish's set" and the espionage of the Nor- 
 mans. She could not refrain from secretly 
 taxing him with indifference towards her feel- 
 ings and comfort and the welfare of his native 
 country. 
 
 So long subdued in spirit, passive and indul- 
 gent, Lady Norman scarcely recognised herself 
 now, when, pacing up and down her vast apart- 
 ments in solitary perturbation, she reflected on 
 all that had been exacted of her, and all the 
 exactions still to come. Conscious of being 
 a puppet in the hands of her husband, she felt 
 that not even the ennobling motive of affec- 
 tion, which rendered her so docile in his 
 hands, could excuse the blindness of her devo- 
 tion. He had promised that the happiness of 
 her future life should repay her subservience. 
 But her subservience was guilt, — falsehood, — 
 hypocrisy, — meanness, — guile, — and these, what 
 could repay? — Was she not doubly degraded 
 by his admission that there existed a secret 
 in which she must not participate ? — That 
 L 3
 
 226 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 he had other motives for choosing to remain in 
 France than the mere desire to impose upon the 
 world by the adoption of a supposititious child ? 
 It was impossible for the mind of woman, even 
 if endowed with a far stronger frame of philo- 
 sophy than that of Lady Norman, to abstain from 
 pondering upon these mysteries whenever she 
 found herself alone. Her self-command scarcely 
 availed to desist from questioning Sir Richard 
 when they were together. To renounce the 
 dear delight of dwelling upon the past, and 
 reviewing again and again his conduct and 
 declarations, was beyond her power. His 
 own word had now confirmed the vague in- 
 sinuations hazarded by Madame de Montrond. 
 He had avowed the existence of liaisons in 
 which she did not participate. What needed 
 there more to bring the life-blood throbbing to 
 her agitated heart — the rising moisture to her 
 troubled brow — when she reflected how far she 
 might have been betrayed by him to whom her 
 life was so generously devoted ! — Serene as was 
 her natural character, there was something in 
 all this to stir every stagnant pulse, and agitate
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 2*27 
 
 almost to distraction the feelings that were not 
 to be confided to any living soul — to any guar- 
 dian spirit of peace ! — 
 
 Nevertheless, amid all her anguish, there 
 abided consolation. Matilda's perceptions had 
 been stimulated by the last year of observa- 
 tion, till every change of Norman's counte- 
 nance.became a source of revelation ; and they 
 had not long been inhabitants of St. Sylvain 
 before she felt convinced that, whatever might 
 be the nature of the mysteries involving her 
 husband, his affection for herself was gradually 
 returning. It was neither pity nor policy which 
 prompted the glances she occasionally detected 
 in his countenance, and the thousand nameless 
 kindnesses which arise only from the fulness of 
 affection. Policy might determine him to the 
 companionship with which he chose to lighten 
 the dull and cheerless hours of her proba- 
 tion ; or compassion * towards the wife he was 
 wronging, instigate him to lighten the burthen 
 of her cares. But there are looks and movements, 
 the instinctive impulses of tenderness, not to 
 be mistaken by a woman's heart ; and these were
 
 228 THE HEIK OF SELWOOD. 
 
 often manifest to Matilda in the demeanour of 
 her husband. She surprised him gazing upon 
 her with self-reproachful admiration. When 
 referrino: in conversation to the conduct of other 
 women, whether traditional or as regarded the 
 examples of daily life, she observed that his 
 commendations were reserved for the mild do- 
 mestic beings of character analogous to her 
 own ; and that he praised her by inference in 
 praising the virtues which she practised. He 
 grew impatient if the shghtest of her com- 
 mands were neglected by the household ; and 
 seemed to live for the promotion of her comfort. 
 And all this was done without forfeiture of 
 the air of graceful superiority peculiar to Sir 
 Richard Norman, and peculiarly attractive in 
 the eyes of his timid wife; — it was done as if 
 he felt aware that his services were unworthy 
 her acceptance. 
 
 One day, when she saw him disposed to pass 
 the morning sauntering with her among the 
 fine avenues of chesnut-trees sloping from the 
 chateau to the Seine, and dignified w^ith the 
 name of park, she could not forbear reproach-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 229 
 
 ing him with his want of curiosity in not having 
 visited Paris since the re-inauguration of the 
 Emperor ; for though Admiral Guerchant had 
 counselled him to avoid, in the first instance, 
 exhibiting himself as an Englishman in any 
 public place, the interdict was now withdrawn ; — 
 the Ministre de la Marine having not only men- 
 tioned to the Emperor the motive of Sir Richard 
 and Lady Norman's sojourn in France, but placed 
 them under the especial protection of the police. 
 
 '' I have, as you accuse me, very little interest 
 in the subject," he replied. '' Napoleon is in 
 my eyes neither the demi-god worshipped by 
 his partisans, nor the monster vituperated by 
 the English press. I look upon him in the 
 light he is defined by the Abbe de Pradt, as a 
 Jupiter Scapin /" 
 
 " Still, Jupiter Scapins have not often fallen 
 in our w^ay. The Scapins one usually sees, are 
 intriguing valets,'' said Matilda, playfully. "A 
 Scapin holding a thunderbolt, is a curious 
 variety of the species." 
 
 '^ But to me not an interesting one." 
 
 " If you will not take a peep at him to gratify
 
 230 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 your own curiosity, at least satisfy wzi we, "pleaded 
 Matilda. 
 
 " No !" replied Norman, decisively ; " I have 
 made up my mind not to visit Paris." 
 
 " Say at once that you have pledged yourself 
 not to go," said Lady Norman, incautiously. 
 
 " I should think, Matilda, you might have 
 discovered by this time that I am no great 
 maker of promises," he resumed, more gravely, 
 " even to you vi^ho have a right to require them 
 of me ; — and what other human being has a 
 claim upon my word ? — " 
 
 «' In short, for obstinacy sake, you are deter- 
 mined not to go?" rejoined Lady Norman, 
 feeling that she was proceding too far, "and 
 I must resign myself not to torment you further 
 on the subject." 
 
 But to adhere to this promise was easier than 
 to refrain from tormenting herself, — for the 
 mystery was constantly uppermost in her mind. 
 Though Sir Richard had admitted himself 
 bound by some mysterious tie to remain in 
 France, he held communion with no living soul 
 beyond the precincts of the chateau. He re-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 231 
 
 ceived no letters, — he paid no visits, — he main- 
 tained no further intercourse with the capital. 
 Of what nature, then, were the bonds that 
 hung upon him thus loosely ? — Neither love nor 
 friendship admits of utter neglect. Neither 
 friend nor mistress would support with patience 
 such total forgetfulness. Yet what hut love or 
 friendship has power to excite emotions such as 
 Matilda had seen convulse the very soul of her 
 husband ? — His detestation of the Normans 
 could not surely suffice to determine him to all 
 this risk ; or to distract his mind with the 
 anguish to which she had seen him a prey ? — 
 
 A sudden thought occurred to her, (and with 
 what transport did she welcome the conjecture !) 
 that his engagements might be of a political 
 nature. Recalling rapidly to mind the ardour 
 with which, for two years previous to his visit 
 to the continent, he had involved himself in the 
 intrigues of the catholic cause, — his laborious 
 correspondence, — his princely liberality, — and, 
 connecting his own sojourn at Paris with the 
 sudden departure of the Abbe for Italy, she 
 became convinced that Madame de Montrond's
 
 232 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 suggestions were correct ; that in spite of pre- 
 tended indifference, he did deeply interest him- 
 self in political intrigues, not as regarded the 
 state of France, but the Church of Rome ! — 
 
 Her soul brightened in a moment. True to 
 her own faith and modes of worship, she had 
 never seen cause for reproach in the devotedness 
 of her husband to his suffering church ; and now, 
 with a degree of fervour that Tom Cruttenden 
 would have trembled to behold, she rejoiced in 
 the idea of his being a secret emissary of the 
 Jesuits ! — She saw all in the clearest light. — Sir 
 Richard had doubtless pledged himself to the 
 Abbe to be on the spot as his intermediary 
 agent with England, in too sacred a manner to 
 admit of succumbing even to the unexpected 
 force of public events. The only letters that 
 reached him at St. Sylvain were in the 
 Abbe*s handwriting ; and after perusing them, 
 the mind of the baronet was invariably dis- 
 turbed and pre- occupied for the remainder 
 of the day. It was doubtless some religious 
 scruple which prevented him from taking a 
 Protestant into his confidence ; a scruple which
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 233 
 
 she had no desire to overcome ; regretting only 
 that a mystery so valueless in her eyes as a 
 political or ecclesiastical intrigue, should have 
 induced her to distress herself, and wrong her 
 beloved Norman with even momentary mistrust. 
 This fact once established in her mind, the 
 spirits of Matilda rose in a manner wholly inex- 
 plicable to her husband. Much as she longed 
 to seek his pardon for her previous injustice, 
 she dared not injure herself in his eyes by 
 avowing the preposterous suspicions she had, 
 even for an instant, entertained. She contented 
 herself therefore with redoubling her submis- 
 siveness, her kindness, and cheering his pre- 
 occupation of mind by incessant smiles and 
 devotion. She now so far surmounted her 
 repugnance to the project in which she had 
 promised connivance, as to allude frequently to 
 her anticipations of delight in the acquisition of 
 the little stranger who was to be unto them as a 
 son. She spoke of it as though she felt that it 
 was almost to be a child of her own ; nay, even 
 appealed to liis tenderness in its favour, as 
 though pleading for her own offspring.
 
 234 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Remember," said she, as they were saunter- 
 ing together in the park of St. Sylvain, one 
 fine April afternoon, watching the progress of 
 the chesnut buds as they glistened and ex- 
 panded in the sunshine till the pale green 
 leaves peeped out between the glossy scales, — 
 " Remember, I must have no impatience, no 
 ill-humour, with my boy! — I put up some- 
 times with your pettishness on my own account, 
 because I know that I am troublesome, and that 
 you have had much to try your patience in 
 my inexperience of society and ignorance of the 
 world. But we are responsible for the faults of 
 the little creature we shall have dragged out of 
 its natural sphere ; and I insist upon your being 
 as kind and forbearing towards it as the tenderest 
 father in the world." 
 
 '' You do not surely consider me such a mon- 
 ster as to ill-use it ?" — demanded Sir Richard, 
 abruptly. 
 
 '*God forbid!" — replied Matilda, in an earnest 
 tone. '* But there is a wide difference between 
 ill-usage and the kindness I shall exact for my 
 child. Without exactly rendering myself as
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 235 
 
 ridiculous as Lady Catherine, I shall, I fear, 
 become a very doting mamma ; — and I wish to 
 prepare you for my weakness." 
 
 Involuntarily Sir Richard pressed to his side 
 the arm that was locked within his own ! — Some- 
 thing of the spirit of old times was arising 
 between them. Matilda's nature was so frank, 
 that just as impossible as it had been to mistake 
 her previous pique and bitterness, was it now to 
 misconstrue the joyousness which took posses- 
 sion of her breast from the moment of de- 
 ciding that the mysterious figure in the dark 
 chariot was a Bishop, or perhaps a Cardinal, 
 residing incognito in Paris as the accredited 
 agent of the Propaganda ! — 
 
 In this happy frame of mind did she await 
 the arrival of Madame Gervais and the promised 
 babe. Relying upon the prudence of Sir 
 Richard for the disposal of every arrangement, 
 she made it her sole request, that Ghita, the 
 Italian waiting-maid whom she found to be in 
 his confidence, might never be permitted to 
 confer with her on the subject. There was 
 something of latent scorn occasionally visible in
 
 236 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 the woman's countenance, which, in spite of the 
 obsequiousness of her deportment, rendered her 
 service peculiarly unwelcome to Matilda, after 
 the warm-hearted alacrity of Vaux; and she 
 felt that she should have no patience with the 
 woman if emboldened by the office of a con- 
 federate. From the first it had been her cus- 
 tom to wait upon herself, in preference to sum* 
 moning Ghita to her aid ; and so strict was the 
 silence still maintained towards her by the wo- 
 man concerning the approaching event, that it 
 was clear she was obeying the instructions of 
 Sir Richard. 
 
 Meanwhile, the middle of April arrived, and 
 expecting that the nurse and child would soon 
 make their appearance also, Lady Norman 
 confined herself chiefly to her apartment. She 
 amused herself with examining the splendid 
 preparations for the little stranger ; the lace, 
 the cambric, the cups of vermeil^ the rosewood 
 rockers, the fringed curtains of cachemire and 
 India muslin ; — and though a sigh often escaped 
 her that this cost and care were for an alien, 
 and that she was guilty of a heavy fault in con-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 237 
 
 niving at an imposition, there was enough of the 
 frailty of human tenderness in her heart to sink 
 all other considerations in the triumph of being 
 freed from her jealous cares, and the hope of 
 being once more united, heart and soul, in un- 
 interrupted affection with her husband. 
 
 On the 18th of the month, however, no ti- 
 dings having reached them from Madame Ger- 
 vais, Sir Richard, apprehensive perhaps of some 
 misunderstanding on the part of his emissary, 
 entered Lady Norman's room at an early hour, 
 and with some perturbation of manner an- 
 nounced that he should proceed that day to Paris 
 to ascertain the exact intentions of his confe- 
 derate. The project was warmly applauded by 
 Lady Norman. But at that moment, the coun- 
 tenance of Ghita, who was arranging the glossy 
 tresses of her lady's hair, happened to be re- 
 vealed to Matilda's observation in the glass 
 before which she was sitting; and it w^as im- 
 possible to mistake the smile of contempt with 
 which, as she conversed with her husband, she 
 saw herself contemplated by the Italian. 
 
 Startled and indignant, Lady Norman was
 
 238 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 on the point of reprehending her insolence; 
 when, alas ! the sense of her own perplexing po- 
 sition reduced her to silence ; and she covered 
 her embarrassment by renewing her advice to 
 Sir Richard to lose no time in repairing to 
 Paris. Again, though she still spoke in English, 
 a language which Ghita affected not to un- 
 derstand, the same insolent glance of disdain 
 sparkled in the eyes of the souhrette. 
 
 So affected was Matilda at the moment by 
 this disagreeable incident, that she had not leisure 
 to take note of the agitation of her husband. 
 Even when he was gone, she sat alone in her 
 chamber musing upon the annoyance of being 
 compelled to accept the services of a person who 
 regarded her with undisguised contempt. 
 
 The day wore slowly away. — The weather was 
 genial as summer ; but in anticipation of the 
 events the evening might bring forth, Lady Nor- 
 man felt almost guilty of an indiscretion when, 
 in spite of Sir Richard's absence, she ventured 
 on her usual stroll in the park; and accompanied 
 by her Selwood favourite, her faithful Rover, 
 proceeded so far as the fine alley of lime-trees.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 239 
 
 now almost covered with their spring verdure, 
 which shaded an extensive terrace of turf over- 
 hanging the Seine. 
 
 The air was fragrant with a thousand violets. 
 Spring breezes swept invigoratingly from the 
 river. It was a moment for happy thoughts, 
 could Matilda have given free course to her inno- 
 cent gaiety of heart in company with her friends 
 the Ravenscrofts, or her own cheerful, chatty 
 sister Elizabeth. But her spirit recoiled upon 
 itself when she reflected upon her isolation 
 as the compulsory inhabitant of a foreign coun- 
 try ; surrounded by strange servants, — attended 
 by an insolent Italian, — and on the brink of an 
 action which, if exposed, must sink her in the 
 estimation of every friend ; — which, though 
 secured from detection, lessened her immeasurably 
 in her own. But for the ever-ready sophistry 
 of love whispering consolation in the plea of a 
 benefit conferred upon her husband, Matilda 
 would, at that moment of excitement, have given 
 herself up to misery and despair ! — 
 
 Overpowered by her reflections, she threw 
 herself down to rest upon a moss-grown stone-
 
 240 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 seat commanding the river ; and, at some 
 distance along its windings, the ruins of the 
 once sumptuous palace of Choisy-le-roi, a cen- 
 tury ago the high altar-stone of the temple 
 of voluptuousness. Glancing towards the shat- 
 tered fragments of its white arcades, Matilda 
 involuntarily bethought her of the lovely 
 Duchesse de Chateauroux, — her struggles, her 
 fall, her penitence, her early death ; — and a 
 strain of remorseful meditations arose in her 
 mind upon the insufficiency of even love itself 
 to embalm and sanctify a cause abhorrent to the 
 dictates of virtue and morality. 
 
 " The time may come," thought she, fixing 
 her eyes upon the sparkling current of the river, 
 " when he for whose sake I am sacrificing my 
 consciousness of duty, w^ill revile me for the 
 weakness of having; ceded to his wishes. Should 
 the imposture be detected, or should the poor 
 child turn out unsatisfactorily, it is upon me 
 Norman will turn with the reproach that I ought 
 to have opposed his guilty scheme.'^ 
 
 Her contemplations were at that moment sud- 
 denly interrupted by the fall of a stone flung
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 241 
 
 with some violence from the river, and evidently 
 impelled towards her with a view of attracting 
 attention, not of inflicting injury. The spaniel 
 crouching at her feet instantly darted forward 
 with a growl, and began rolling over and over 
 the missile, as if an object of some peculiar in- 
 terest. It was in vain she called to Rover to 
 desist. The intelligent animal would not relin- 
 quish his eflPorts till Lady Norman, stooping 
 down to fling the stone back again into the river, 
 perceived that a paper was attached to it, bearing 
 her own superscription. 
 
 With an instinctive movement of surprise and 
 terror she glanced hastily round, to ascertain 
 from what quarter, or by whom, the stone could 
 have been thrown. But not a creature was 
 within sight ; the trees were still too imperfectly 
 clothed with verdure to admit of any person 
 being concealed among the branches. Not so 
 much as a boat or barge was perceptible on the 
 stream. Nothing was to be seen but one of the 
 long trains or rafts of wood, floating from Bur- 
 gundy towards Paris, to be broken up for firing, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 and the peasants who were steering its course 
 from the opposite shore, out of reach of the ter- 
 ritory of St. Sylvain. 
 
 It occurred to her, however, that the bank of 
 the river below the terrace was in many places 
 hollowed by the action of the current; so that 
 any person having attained the spot from the 
 river, might remain concealed among the ledges 
 of shrubby ground below. From such an 
 ambush, it would be as easy to clamber up to- 
 wards the spot where she was standing, as to 
 launch the fragment of stone ; and Matilda ex- 
 pected every moment to see emerge from the 
 overhanging bank some strange and menacing 
 figure. Yet she had not courage to fly. She 
 stood rooted to the place, holding the slip of 
 paper she had detached ; on which was inscribed 
 in English, in a strange handwriting, — <' Be- 
 ware ! — Submit not to be the dupe of a dupe." 
 
 From the paper, Lady Norman glanced to- 
 wards the bank, — from the bank to the paper, — 
 incapable for some moments of thought or ac- 
 tion. The dog still went sniffing along the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 243 
 
 shore ; and at length Matilda took courage to 
 follow in the same direction, and peer down with 
 anxious eyes among the matted weeds and 
 brambles. She determined to accost, if possible, 
 the person from whom she had received so sin- 
 gular a warning, and insist upon further expla- 
 nation. But the effort with which she formed 
 this resolution was thrown away. — No human 
 being appeared. The dog, a sure indicator, 
 abandoned his pursuit ; and after sundry snort- 
 ings and sniffings, disposed itself to follow Lady 
 Norman. There was not even a trace among 
 the bushes of recent passage; — no boat moored 
 below,- — no indication of any kind to guide her 
 conjectures ; and more distressed than ever, she 
 hastened homewards, and took refuge in her 
 own apartment. 
 
 For the first time her heart sickened at 
 the sight of the beautiful cradle established 
 in her dressing-room. When equipping her- 
 self for her walk, she had glanced towards 
 these preparatives with a smile of delight at the 
 idea of the enlivenment and solace her isolated 
 existence was about to attain in her expected 
 m2
 
 244 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD, 
 
 little companion. But she longed no more 
 for the stir and bustle of the nursery. The 
 word '* dupe" filled her with dismay, refrigerat- 
 ing even her womanly kindness towards the 
 child. 
 
 All her perplexities were returning. Ghita's 
 air of impertinence that morning, her husband's 
 embarrassment, and now, this mysterious admoni- 
 tion, seemed linked in tormenting significance. 
 Had Norman been in the house, she would have 
 resigned herself to the impulse of her feelings, 
 and insisted upon a definite reply to every ques- 
 tion she felt inclined to address him. But he 
 was absent. She had only her own heart, her 
 own memory, to interrogate ; and the one up- 
 braided her weakness, while the other eluded her 
 demands. 
 
 How wearily that morning — that day — that 
 evening — dragged along ! — Sir Richard did 
 not return ; and, obliged to confine herself to 
 her room to escape the observations of tho 
 household, she attempted to beguile the tedi- 
 ousness of the time by the perusal of a new 
 work. Every moment, however, she kept
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 245 
 
 Starting up, and going to the door to listen ; or 
 lo a small window in her ante-chamber, over- 
 looking the court yard, in the hope of her hus~ 
 band's arrival. Still, at each succeeding attempt, 
 she was disappointed. Sir Richard did not 
 make his appearance; and again and again, she 
 was obliged to have recourse to her book to get 
 rid of the thronginor thoughts that caused her 
 pulses to beat and her burning cheeks to tingle. 
 If, as her anonymous monitor asserted, she 
 was a dupe, she was the dupe of Norman, — 
 of her husband ! — And what treachery could 
 equal his, in practising upon one whom excess 
 of affection chained in bondage at his feet ; — one 
 who renounced her very reason and judgment 
 to become his instrument ; — one who lived but 
 in him and in his happiness ! — 
 
 Poor Matilda could scarcely believe in such 
 cruelty. She determined to suspend all judg- 
 ment on the subject till she had thrown herself 
 into Sir Richard's arms, and, clinging to his 
 bosom, demanded the truth, — the whole truth, — 
 from his lips. 
 
 The book which accident had thrown in her
 
 246 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 way to beguile the hours of that eventful morn- 
 ing, was " Adolphe," — a story flat, because in- 
 comprehensible, to those whose feet have trodden 
 only the monotonous paths of common life ; but 
 to the impassioned, the unhappy, the forsaken, 
 the breviary of a religion of love and sorrow. — 
 It was the very book to stimulate her to a more 
 curious examination of her griefs and causes for 
 grief. 
 
 As the time wore on, however, Matilda's 
 suspicions gave way to acute anxiety. The 
 usual dinner hour was long past, and no Sir 
 Richard ! — Her meal having been served in her 
 own apartment, she at length sent down to de- 
 sire that Monsieur might be no longer expected. 
 But the dismissal of the servants' preparations 
 did not render her mind more easy. Sir 
 Richard's habits of life were punctuality itself. 
 Unless at the period of his prolonged absence in 
 France, Lady Norman had never seen him 
 otherwise than exact to his appointments ; and 
 he had volunteered the promise of being back to 
 dine at St. Sylvain. 
 
 That he might be detained by some dilemma
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 247 
 
 connected with the conveyance of the infant into 
 the Chateau, was far from improbable ; and im- 
 pressed with this idea, Matilda would have sub- 
 dued her disquietudes but for that mysterious 
 warning. Might not Sir Richard's absence at 
 that moment constitute the treachery to which 
 she was a dupe ? — Might he not be gone from 
 her — perhaps not to return for a length of time 
 — perhaps to return no more ? — 
 
 A general shuddering seized her frame at 
 the surmise of such an iniquity ! — But no, it 
 could not be ! — She had no right to think thus 
 hardly of him at the suggestion of some name- 
 less enemy. It was far more probable that she 
 was herself the dupe of a delusion wantonly 
 created; that the scroll so incomprehensibly 
 conveyed to her was "a thing devised by the 
 enemy," a deception practised on her credulity 
 by the Normans. Sir Richard w^as, perhaps, 
 detained from her by some personal misadven- 
 ture — some blundering persecution of the Im- 
 perial police — some sweeping measure directed 
 against British residents in France. She half 
 determined to despatch a messenger to Ad-
 
 248 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 miral Guerchant entreating him to institute 
 inquiries. It was only on recalling to mind 
 that, should her alarm prove premature, it would 
 be most injurious to Sir Richard's plans to direct 
 towards his abode at such a moment the vigi- 
 lant eyes of the police, that Lady Norman was 
 prudent enough to refrain. 
 
 There was nothing for it but patience ! — Fixing 
 her eyes upon the gorgeous pendule that graced 
 her mantel-piece, (which had recorded the sad 
 or joyous moments of the noble inhabitants of 
 St. Sylvain from the days when Choisy was a 
 royal palace, and Louis XV. a king,) she 
 counted, minute by minute, the cheerless hours, 
 till it became time to close the Chateau for the 
 night. Though the vicinity of the house to a 
 navigable river, as well as the constant transit of 
 troops through the country, rendered it highly 
 undesirable to leave its avenues undefended after 
 midnight. Lady Norman insisted that the ser- 
 vants should keep watch till one o'clock, not 
 suffering the huge mastiffs, the usual guardians 
 of the domain, to be turned out. 
 
 At the appointed time, however, on hearing
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 249 
 
 the great bars and bolts of the hall doors drawn 
 upon her, and remembering that Sir Richard 
 was still away, and that she was pronounced to 
 be " a dupe," she threw herself despairingly 
 upon the sofa ; to bewail the miserable des- 
 tiny which had thrown her, helpless and friend- 
 less, into the mercy of a wayward tyrant, far 
 from the home of her youth and the domestic 
 sanctities of her native country. 
 
 M 3
 
 250 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Here's a sight! look thee ; — a bearing cloth 
 For a squire's child ! — Take up, take up the babe ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 All was still as death in the Chateau. — Ghita, 
 after her usual offers of assistance, had retired 
 for the night ; and Lady Norman lay watching, 
 in indescribable anguish of spirit, the fleckering 
 of the veilleuse burning at the foot of her soiri. 
 The figures reflected by the light through its 
 vase of painted porcelain, seemed dancing fan- 
 tastically on the opposite wall. The lofty alcove 
 of the state bed looked dim and solemn, as it 
 had never looked before. It was only by bury- 
 ing her face in the cushions of the sofa that she 
 could shut out these unwelcome omens.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 251 
 
 She dared not commit herself, according to 
 her nightly habit, to the protection of Provi- 
 dence ! — On the eve of so enormous a breach of 
 integrity, so gratuitous an act of false witnessing, 
 there would be crime in the attempt. She must 
 bear up against the force of her terrors, and the 
 sense of helplessness that besets the guilty. She 
 almost longed to call back the woman she 
 detested, to preserve her from the self-com- 
 muning of solitude ! — 
 
 At length, the beneficent Power to which she 
 dared not appeal for protection, had pity on her 
 sufferings. Wearied by the agitation of the 
 day, she slept ; — slept, and dreamt of home, — of 
 old familiar faces, old familiar rambles with her 
 brothers and sisters among old familiar fields, 
 — where she was loud, and wild, and happy, with- 
 out care or ambition to rise beyond the obscure 
 condition of a manufacturer's daughter. The 
 coarse, rude laugh of Cruttenden mingled in 
 her dreams ; — the approving laugh he had been 
 wont in other days to bestow upon the gambols 
 of his partner's children. But of a sudden it 
 changed to a tone of mockery, a tone of con-
 
 252 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 temptuous accusation ; and he was reviling her 
 in words half jest, half scorn, for having de- 
 frauded an honest man's family in behalf of a 
 foundling, when, waking with a sudden shiver, 
 she found the grey light of morning stealing 
 into the room, and her husband standing beside 
 her. 
 
 '• Ha ! you are come at last !" — said she, start- 
 ing from the sofa, and trying to compose her 
 bewildered senses; — when the surprise of finding 
 him at that hour in her chamber, and a certain 
 expression of wild delight irradiating his counte- 
 nance, induced her to exclaim, '' But how did 
 you make an entrance here ? — I fancied I had 
 secured the door? — " 
 
 " You had ; — but I have a passe-partout. — I 
 entered the Chateau without even the porter 
 being aware of my arrival. How soundly j^ou 
 were sleeping, dearest Matilda, that you did not 
 hear my approach ! — " 
 
 " Soundly, but not composedly," answered 
 Matilda, as she gradually recovered her self- 
 possession. " I have been dreaming painful 
 dreams. — I lay down in misery. — Why did you
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 253 
 
 not return last night? — What detained you in 
 Paris? — Why not prepare me for the disap- 
 pointment?" — 
 
 " I did not know that you would feel it a 
 disappointment," replied Norman, taking her 
 hand between his, and gazing upon her with a 
 still more rapturous expression of joy ; " but if 
 my absence made you uneasy, I am indeed to 
 blame for playing truant." 
 
 " But what can have occupied you so long in 
 Paris ?— " 
 
 " In the first place, the brilliant preparations 
 for the Champ de Mai ; which induced me to 
 idle away my morning among other gaping 
 loungers. Having met Guerchant, who was 
 superintending the labours of the engineers in 
 the Champ de Mars, he induced me to return 
 home and dine with him." 
 
 " Then I am convinced you did not tell him 
 you were expected back at St. Sylvain," cried 
 Lady Norman. " The Admiral is a man of 
 too much gallantry to do anything tending to 
 keep me in such harassing suspense."
 
 254 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " I confess I thought that, with your books 
 and garden, and the fine weather, you would 
 scarcely have leisure to note my absence. In 
 this persuasion, after settling with Madame Ger- 
 vais that night would be the most propitious 
 moment for her entrance here, I determined to 
 prolong my stay by a few hours, and avoid a 
 second journey.'* 
 
 " You saw Madame Gervais, then ?" — de- 
 manded Lady Norman, her heart sinking at 
 once from the momentary elation produced by 
 her husband's presence, and resuming the care- 
 ful looks produced by the event of the preced- 
 ing day. 
 
 " I did. Our preparations are complete. 
 But you do not ask to see the child ?" added 
 he, in a lower voice, — an anxious glance oversha- 
 dowing for a moment the triumphant brightness 
 of his face. 
 
 " The child /" — faltered Matilda, turning 
 deadly pale. — " Is it then already here ? — " 
 
 " It is in my room with the nurse. We had 
 better lose no time in transporting the little
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. *255 
 
 creature hither before the servants are up and 
 about/' 
 
 And expecting to find Matilda second his 
 proposals with the ardour she had recently dis- 
 played in the cause, Sir Richard was amazed 
 to find that no word escaped her lips, and that 
 every tinge of colour vanished from her coun- 
 tenance. A confusion of thoughts and feelings 
 overpowered her. — The word " dupe" was ring- 
 ing in her troubled ears ! — 
 
 " You seem surprised — you seem displeased I" 
 said he, — astonished in his turn. — " Did you not 
 expect this ? — I understood from you yesterday 
 morning — that all was prepared ? — '' 
 
 " Yes !" — faltered Matilda, neither daring to 
 speak nor to remain silent. 
 
 " You remarked that no further time was to 
 be lost, — that I could not do better than come 
 to an understanding with Madame Gervais with- 
 out further delay ! — " 
 
 " Did I ? — Yes, I dare say I did !" — replied 
 Matilda, breathing as though a heavy oppres- 
 sion hung upon her bosom.
 
 256 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Yet now, you seem reluctant, — vexed ! — 
 How is this, Matilda?''— cried he, growing 
 alarmed in his turn. " Do you mean to fail me 
 ii\ the hour of trial ? — " 
 
 " No, no !" — cried Lady Norman, scarcely 
 knowing what she replied, and anxious only to 
 gain time for the recovery of her self-possession. 
 " But make some allowance for the anguish of 
 my heart at this eventful moment, in accepting 
 from your hands a foundling, — an alien, — 
 instead of having to present you with a child of 
 my own ! — " 
 
 At this appeal. Sir Richard, encircling her 
 affectionately with his arm, kissed the tears from 
 her pale cheeks. At that moment perhaps she 
 would have been reconciled to the event, and 
 content to accede to his projects, but for the 
 words still rankling in her heart — " the dupe of 
 a dupe !" 
 
 '* The Normans are avenged !" — thought Ma- 
 tilda, as she reclined her throbbing brow on 
 her husband's shoulder. " The injury I am 
 inflicting on them is amply repaid !"
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 237 
 
 After a moment's deference to her wounded 
 feelings, Sir Richard seemed to remember that 
 the business they had in hand was too important 
 to be trifled with for the indulgence of unavail- 
 ing sensibility. 
 
 " It is essential, dearest," whispered he, in 
 x,he most soothing manner, " that the nurse and 
 child should be established in your apartment 
 before the household is astir. Ghita is in readi- 
 ness to light a fire in the adjoining chamber. 
 Will you give me leave to bring in Madame 
 Gervais V* 
 
 And on Matilda's expressing assent he quitted 
 the room, and by the duration of his absence, 
 seemed inclined to give her time for perfect re- 
 covery. A woman would have judged more 
 wisely, and allowed no leisure for reflection. 
 The lapse of the next ten minutes re-excited the 
 agitation of Lady Norman to so distracting a 
 pitch, that, had the ffai^de on entering the room 
 been at leisure to take note of her pretended 
 patient, she might have concluded that she was 
 summoned to attend a lunatic. Pale and hag- 
 gard, she could scarcely support herself when
 
 258 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Sir Richard, advancing towards her with the 
 portly Madame Gervais, called her attention 
 sportively to the infant, whose little face he un- 
 covered for her inspection. 
 
 " How hideous !" — was Lady Norman's in- 
 voluntary ejaculation, as the ghastly light of 
 early morning gleamed upon the new-born babe ; 
 an object beauteous to the eye of a mother, but 
 distasteful enough to any indifferent spectator. 
 
 " Hideous f^ — reiterated Sir Richard, his air 
 of triumphant satisfaction giving place to a 
 glance of indignation — " It is one of the finest 
 infants I ever beheld !" 
 
 And the garde, comprehending from the tone 
 of her employer that he was enlarging on the 
 beauty of the child, burst forth into a clamour 
 of eulogy, which did not prevent Lady Norman 
 from retaining her opinion that she was look- 
 ing upon a very ugly babe, attired in a very 
 beautiful dress. Sir Richard did not think it 
 worth while to controvert her decision. He 
 addressed no further remark to her ; but began 
 questioning Madame Gervais as to the proba- 
 bility of its having taken cold, and the further
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 259 
 
 arrangements to be made for its comfort and 
 accommodation. He could not have interested 
 himself more warmly in the little creature's 
 welfare, had it been a child of his own. 
 
 " Never fear, Monsieur — never fear ; — we shall 
 do very well !'' — was the woman's reply, in the 
 cordial motherly tone peculiar to her vocation. 
 " You have been up all night. — We don't want 
 you here. — Leave me with miledi, who has her 
 acquaintance to make with this little personage 
 here. Ghita will get me all I want, mon hon 
 monsieur; and in half an hour we shall have 
 the nurse from the maternite. Leave me with 
 miledi" 
 
 To Lady Norman's surprise, he quitted 
 the room without further inquiry or remon- 
 strance ; evidently stung to the soul by her 
 hasty sentence of disapproval of the babe. She 
 now felt conscious that she had spoken hastily 
 and harshly; and when, a moment after Nor- 
 man's departure, Madame Gervais placed the 
 little creature unceremoniously in her arms, 
 saying, " There, — hold it carefully for me a mo-
 
 260 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 ment while I put things to rights a bit, in the 
 other room," — instead of resenting the freedom, 
 she extended her arms kindly to receive the 
 poor foundling. 
 
 It was perhaps a proof of tact on the part 
 of the old lady, that, instead of giving time to 
 the pretended mother to recoil with disgust 
 from the child forced on her adoption, she 
 appealed instantly to instincts latent in every 
 female heart. No sooner did she find the help- 
 less little being in her arms, than Matilda's 
 heart softened towards it. In its sleep, it uttered 
 a slight moan ; and she raised its soft cheek to 
 her own to soothe it with caresses. It folded 
 its tiny hands upon its bosom as she bent over 
 it, and the grace of its infantine movements ex- 
 cited her admiration. " Poor little creature!" 
 was her silent reflection. " It is now mother- 
 less. — Its parents have cast it off' for ever. — I 
 should be unpardonable not to do my best to- 
 wards supplying their place." 
 
 The nurse kept coming and going between 
 the two rooms ; bustling about and setting the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. '261 
 
 place to order, without offering to relieve her of 
 her burthen. She contented herself with plac- 
 ing a cushion under Lady Norman's foot, loudly 
 commending her skill as a nurse, and applaud- 
 ing the tranquillity of the babe, who had slept 
 quietly from the moment of quitting Paris, with- 
 out uttering a single cry to endanger discovery ! — 
 " Not a soul knows yet of our arrival," said 
 Madame Gervais, making herself as familiarly at 
 home in Matilda's room as if she had lived there all 
 her days. " The servants will conclude by-and- 
 bye that Ghita has been attending on us through 
 the night. — But we want no one. The fewer 
 prying people admitted into these rooms at 
 present, the better. For a week to come, miUdi 
 will content herself with my attendance and 
 that of Monsieur. She will laugh at my awk- 
 wardness; but what then? — Poor old Gervais 
 is accustomed to be laughed at ! — Poor old Ger- 
 vais is the best of lady's maids to a little gentle- 
 man six hours old ; but she does not pretend to 
 be a,femme de chamhre pour une belle dame telle 
 que miUdV^
 
 "262 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 The good-humoured garrulity of the old dame 
 seemed to place Matilda at her ease. After 
 the cool silence of Ghita, the familiarity of 
 Madame Gervais was a relief. She talked too 
 incessantly to allow Lady Norman a moment 
 for reflection ; and claimed her services for the 
 child as frankly and cordially as if she really 
 imagined her to be its mother. 
 
 The nourrice did not make her appearance so 
 soon as was expected ; and Matilda found her- 
 self growing as uneasy as Madame Gervais. 
 The little creature seemed pining for food. 
 She fancied it might suffer seriously by the 
 delay ; and kept hushing it off to sleep upon her 
 bosom, while the garde, who had taken autho- 
 ritative possession of the supposed sick cham- 
 ber, dispatched Ghita to the lodge to make 
 inquiries. 
 
 " We will not render your penance longer 
 than needful," said Madame Gervais, watching 
 with satisfaction the progress her little charge 
 was making in the affections of its beautiful 
 nurse. " The persiennes closed for two days.
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 263 
 
 and your chamber kept for a week, will 
 satisfy the servants. After that, you can take 
 your walks and drives as usual ; leaving all 
 further care of the little fellow to me and 
 his nurse. I wish we had her here by this 
 time, for the boy is getting sadly cold and 
 weak ! — There ! — he does not look so frightful 
 now !" — continued Madame Gervais, as Ma- 
 tilda, alarmed by her lamentations, raised it 
 closer to her bosom to preserve warmth in its 
 little frame. And so successful had been her 
 manoeuvres, that already Lady Norman was 
 interested in its behalf. 
 
 " People not used to the sight of young chil- 
 dren are no great judges of such matters," re- 
 sumed the garde, " But I, who have a couple 
 of hundred such marmots in my arms in the 
 course of a year, can assure you that this is a most 
 promising babe. I'd stake my life he'll grow up 
 a beauty ; and what's more, I'd stake my life 
 that, before the year's up, you'll be most as fond 
 of it as if 'twas your own ! — I'm experienced in 
 such matters, ma bonne dame ; and 'tis written in
 
 •264 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 your face that you were born to be doatingly 
 fond of children. Monsieur chose this boy out 
 of several in the Hospice because of its fairness. 
 He wished it to be beautifully fair, that it might 
 resemble miledi in complexion !" 
 
 By this impromptu piece of flattery, Madame 
 Gervais completed her triumph ! — All suspicion 
 was gradually dissipating from the mind of Lady 
 Norman. The maligner who accused her of 
 being a dupe knew not, perhaps, to what extent 
 she had been trusted by her husband. Having 
 locked up the slip of writing in her desk and re- 
 solved to make no allusion on the subject to her 
 husband, she gave all her attention to her little 
 nursling. 
 
 Installed in full splendour after the arrival 
 of his nurse, the contented child, sleeping in his 
 magnificent hergonnette^ looked truly the heir 
 of Selwood ; and Matilda, having seen the new 
 comers comfortably established, disposed herself 
 to take a few hours' rest in the adjoining cham- 
 ber ; and her sleep was no longer disturbed by 
 the painful visions of the preceding night. It was
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. '265 
 
 very late when she woke, roused perhaps at last 
 by the officiousness of the garde, who had crept 
 tiptoe into the room. 
 
 " Well, to be sure ! — I hope we have rested 
 soundly!" — cried Madame Gervais, drawing aside 
 the curtains, in obedience to Matilda's com- 
 mands. " Fresh as a rose, too, dame ! — A very 
 different face from those of the poor suffering 
 creatures I am in the habit of attending! — 
 Ah! your Ladyship is truly in luck to have all the 
 comfort and satisfaction of a beautiful little boy, 
 without fear, pain, doctor, or physic ! — What 
 would some of my poor ladies give to become a 
 mother on such easy terms ! — Shall I bring my 
 little man to say good morning to his pretty 
 mamma ? — '' 
 
 And without waiting for a reply she fetched 
 the sleeping infant, and laid it by Matilda's side, 
 to make its own way to that kind and gentle 
 heart. 
 
 It was thus she found herself suddenly 
 greeted by Sir Richard Norman ! — Though 
 overwhelmed with delight at beholding his 
 wife so rapidly reconciled to her position, he 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 had too much tact to express either joy or 
 gratitude ; but took a seat calmly by her bed- 
 side, and waited till it was her pleasure to 
 address him. 
 
 " I am puzzled at present what to call this 
 young gentleman," said she, bending over the 
 sleeping boy to conceal her embarrassment. 
 " What do you intend shall be his name? — '' 
 
 '' Whatever pleases your fancy, my dear 
 Matilda." 
 
 " Your own then." 
 
 '* No!" — replied her husband, his voice slightly 
 faltering, '' I should be jealous to hear you 
 apply that name in a tone of endearment to any 
 but myself." 
 
 " You will choose godfathers for him ; and 
 etiquette requires, I believe, that they should 
 decide the point," said Matilda, recollecting with 
 shame the offer made by old Cruttenden to enrich 
 and give his name to her expected child. 
 
 " Our good friend Guerchant has undertaken 
 the office," replied Sir Richard, " and I was 
 thinking of writing to Ireland to Mandeville 
 to become the other."
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 267 
 
 " I fear," said Matilda, with a deep blush, 
 " that my father will be greatly mortified un- 
 less solicited to become one of the sponsors." 
 
 " Impossible V* — cried Norman. " I could not 
 reconcile it to myself, dearest, to accept the 
 kindness and liberality of your family, for one 
 so wholly devoid of claims upon them." 
 
 " Under all the circumstances, there must 
 be many things to which we shall find it diffi- 
 cult to reconcile ourselves,'* said Lady Nor- 
 man. " But we can do no less than place the 
 little fellow wholly and absolutely in the light of 
 our child ; and it would be cruel to debar my 
 father from a happiness and honour, which can- 
 not be withheld without offence." 
 
 " It is not for me to deny a request of yours," 
 replied Sir Richard. ** But as, according to 
 the laws of France, this boy must be registered 
 at the Mairie within three days of his birth, not 
 only as the offspring of ' Sir Richard Norman 
 and Matilda Maule his wife,' but explicitly by 
 his christian name, it will be as well to have him 
 baptized this evening by the cure of St. Sylvain 
 n2
 
 268 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 by the name of Walter Norman ; which is at 
 once that of the Admiral and of one of my im- 
 mediate ancestors, and renders our patronymic 
 rightfully his own." 
 
 " With all my heart !" replied Matilda. " I 
 have no doubt Master Walter will do honour to 
 his name. I beg his pardon for calling him a 
 fright this morning, before I had obtained a full 
 view of his august person ; for I now think him a 
 very fine little fellow," said she, imprinting a kiss 
 on his forehead, " and Madame Gervais promises 
 that his beauty shall eclipse that of my little 
 friend of the Champs Elysees." 
 
 There was something in the allusion not alto- 
 gether satisfactory to Sir Richard. Delighted 
 as he was to find Matilda conferring her good 
 offices on the little stranger, he was silent when 
 she concluded her observations by this reference 
 to the Normans. 
 
 At that moment, Madame Gervais, stealing in 
 with a significant smile, informed them that 
 Madame Vtpouse de Monsieur le ministre de la 
 marine was in the next room waiting for permis-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 269 
 
 sion to pay her compliments to Vaccouchee, — Was 
 she to be admitted ?" 
 
 " By all means V* — cried Sir Richard, allowing 
 no time for Matilda to demur. " You can ask 
 her to become the boy's god-mother with the 
 Admiral, which will remove all difficulties. 
 Rather too blooming for an invalid !" — he con- 
 tinued, pressing Matilda's hand as it smoothed 
 down the infant's robe, while Madame Gervais 
 went to usher in the future marraine* " How- 
 ever, you look as happy and maternal as could 
 be desired ! — Have no fears on that account." 
 
 " Fie, fie !" was the hasty adjuration of the 
 good Madame Guerchant, on finding Matilda 
 engaged in cheerful conversation in a room into 
 which the April sun was brightly shining. " Do 
 you mean to kill yourself with these exertions ? 
 My best congratulations to you, cMre miltdiy and 
 a hearty welcome to your little son ! — A boy, you 
 see, as I prognosticated, — and everything going 
 on a<^ well as possible. — Since you willh2i\e day- 
 light in your room, I must be allowed a peep at 
 your child.— Ha ! the living image of Sir Richard 
 I protest ! — ^his forehead exactly, — exactly the
 
 270 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 dimple on the chin ! — A noble boy, — a beautiful 
 child, — worthy to be born a Frenchman, and a 
 subject of our beloved Emperor ! — " 
 
 Without noticing the confusion into which 
 her remarks had thrown the Normans, she em- 
 braced the boy, dismissed the garde, and ran on 
 to the news of the day ; — to the questions before 
 the Chamber, — the audiences given the preceding 
 night by the Emperor ; in the midst of which, 
 Matilda discovered from some accidental ex- 
 pression that Norman had not, according to his 
 assertion, dined the day before with Admiral 
 Guerchant ! — Why had he deceived her ? — On 
 that trivial point, at least, she had been unques- 
 tionably " a dupe !" All her misgivings re- 
 curred with the reflection ! — 
 
 Meanwhile, Sir Richard had quitted the room 
 to afford leisure to Matilda for her request con- 
 cerning the sponsorship ; and amid the caquetage 
 that ensued between Madame Gervais and the 
 mother and grandmother of seven and twenty 
 living descendants, Lady Norman had a mo- 
 ment's respite for conjecture and mortification. 
 
 Her husband, however, was luckily as uncon-
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 271 
 
 scious of the discovery she had made as of the 
 warning she had received. 
 
 Satisfied that all difficulties were overcome, — 
 that his deep-laid plans had fully succeeded, — that 
 all was upon velvet, — that he was the happiest of 
 the human race, — he retired to his morning-room 
 to complete a few trifling announcements sug- 
 gested to him by Matilda. As he sat down to 
 his writing-table in the highest spirits, a smile of 
 triumph stole over his handsome features. 
 
 " After all," — murmured he to himself, as he 
 placed two letters on the desk before him, " my 
 very cares turn to blessings — my thorns send 
 forth blossoms — I am the most fortunate man on 
 earth! — Even the annoyance of having to acquaint 
 old Maule of the existence of a grandson, is fully 
 compensated by the delight of being able to an- 
 nounce to those insupportable people at Grove 
 Park, per favour of the Times and Morning 
 Post, the birth of my son and heir ! — '* 
 
 As he spoke, he prepared to seal the two 
 epistles destined to convey to the two anxious 
 families such opposite emotions of joy and 
 grief. — But lo ! as he stood before the taper, with
 
 272 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 the seal, bearing the aristocratic blazon of the 
 Normans ready in his hand to attest the trans- 
 mission of a fraud, the library door was thrown 
 open, and a servant entered announcing — " the 
 Abb^ O'Donnel !— "
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 You undergo too strict a paradox, 
 Striving to make an ugly deed look fair. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 It was somewhat more than four years after 
 the occurrence of these events, that two travel- 
 ling carriages, containing Sir Richard Norman 
 and his family, drove through the village of Sel- 
 wood, on their return to the Manor. 
 
 Summer was in its prime ; — peace and plenty 
 were in the land ; — and the tenants of the long- 
 absent family, rejoicing in the prospect of re- 
 newed benefactions and hospitalities, prepared 
 to greet them with the warmest welcome ; and 
 above all, to afford a triumphal inauguration to 
 N 3
 
 274 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 the young heir of Selwood. A rustic arch was 
 erected at the entrance of the village, covered 
 with laurels interspersed with roses, and blazing 
 with gaudy flags and gold-leaf; while a far more 
 beautiful embellishment was prepared by the 
 hands of nature, in the bloom of the numerous 
 little gardens encompassing the humble tene- 
 ments lining the road, and in the verdure of 
 the magnificent woods of Selwood, which formed 
 a noble embankment in the back-ground. 
 
 Though secretly embarrassed by the ill-timed 
 enthusiasm of his tenantry, Sir Richard could 
 not but feel gratified, when, on reaching the 
 outskirts of his domain, he was saluted by hearty 
 cheers ; while a dense mob of farmers and la- 
 bouring men assembled round the carriage, with 
 cries of " God bless you !" — '* Long life to the 
 old family !" — " Good luck to our young land- 
 lord !" — '* Success to the heir of Selwood !" — At 
 the last stage, he caused little Walter to be 
 removed from the second carriage to his own ; 
 and now presented the noble looking child to 
 the multitude, whose acclamations might have 
 daunted the courage of a less spirited boy. As if
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 275 
 
 conscious of his consequence, however, the child 
 replied to their cheers by waving his little hat ; 
 and on Sir Richard requiring them from the 
 carriage- window to desist from their attempt to 
 take off the horses and drag the carriage up 
 the hill to the Manor, Walter Norman offered 
 his little hand to be shaken by the foremost of 
 the crowd, with all the affability of a prince ! 
 The travellers being at length permitted to 
 proceed on their journey, the villagers of Sel- 
 wood, ere they dispersed to their habitations for 
 the enjoyment of their holiday, assembled in 
 high court of rustic parliament at the stocks 
 (which in old fashioned villages constitute the 
 seat of government, as the sight of a gibbet is 
 supposed to announce the existence of civili- 
 zation), and decreed that Sir Richard had 
 brought back from foreign parts a far more 
 cheerful face than he took away ; and that my 
 lady had brought back a son and heir bidding 
 fair to be an honour to the family. 
 
 They admitted, however, that this was all 
 the improvement visible in " my lady." — Their 
 unprejudiced eyes quickly discerned that a shade
 
 276 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 was upon her brow ; — that her cheek was paler 
 than of old, — her brow more pensive. Though 
 still in the prime of youth, a blight was upon 
 her cheek, — a blight, engendered by unceasing 
 self-reproaches. 
 
 Not all the changes and diversions they had 
 witnessed in their travels, had sufficed to drive 
 her deep-seated grief from the heart of Lady 
 Norman. Having quitted Paris as soon as 
 the expiration of the hundred days brought 
 back the allied armies, and in their train, the 
 coterie of fashionable English, so distasteful to 
 Sir Richard, they had visited every remarkable 
 country in Europe; — had passed a winter in 
 Rome, another in Vienna, and a third in 
 Berlin ; — wandering, during the intervening 
 summers, among the scenery of the Apennines, 
 the Pyrenees, the Jura, and the miniature 
 Switzerland of Saxony. Matilda had acquired 
 new impressions, — new languages, — new friends ; 
 but the one still-enduring affliction weighed 
 heavily as ever on her heart. 
 
 For it was of a nature that forbad its being 
 lessened by participation ! — Sir Richard Norman
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 277 
 
 had not only bound her by solemn pledges never 
 to afford a hint upon the subject to living 
 mortal, but had interdicted all further reference 
 to it as regarded himself. He seemed desirous 
 to forget what had occurred ; and Matilda some- 
 times almost fancied he had succeeded, — so rap- 
 turous was the delight he took in the progress 
 and promise of his heir, — so intense the affection 
 with which he regarded the adopted child ! — 
 
 Lady Norman, hei'self, dearly loved the boy. 
 It would have been impossible to withhold her 
 fondness from a creature so deeply attached to 
 herself. Yet in her fondest caresses, there min- 
 gled a pang of bitterness. There was always a 
 reserve in her attachment. She could never at 
 any moment forget that she beheld in Walter the 
 evidence of unexpiated error, the living proof of 
 an enormous breach of integrity. Of late, in- 
 deed, a new care had arisen in her mind con- 
 nected with his mysterious adoption; but too 
 recently to be accountable for the sadness 
 which had defaced the bloom of her bright and 
 beautiful youth. 
 
 Meanwhile, the travellers were installed once
 
 278 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 more under the roof of the Manor; and never 
 had the place appeared to such advantage in the 
 eyes of Sir Richard Norman. The depth 
 and richness of English verdure clothing the 
 park and woodlands, was not more refreshing 
 to his eye than the completeness and elegance 
 of the house. Among the noble palaces and 
 princely mansions of the continent, he had seen 
 nothing so comfortably adapted to the conve- 
 nience of life. There were all the attributes of 
 the palace, — pictures, statues, a fine library, a 
 noble observatory; — but there was also the snug 
 book-room, the well -warmed vestibule and stair- 
 case, the commodious chambers and airy dress- 
 ing-rooms, exclusively characteristic of the Eng- 
 lish country-house. 
 
 Already Walter was coursing over the close- 
 shaven velvet lawn the poor infirm spaniel, 
 which by its frolics seemed to recognise its home 
 of old ; while Matilda stood on the threshold of 
 the conservatory opening from the saloon, gaz- 
 ing upon the fine exotics which had attained 
 such growth during her absence ; convinced 
 that though the plants and flowers of southern
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 279 
 
 climates may be more glowing and luxu- 
 riant, in no country are they so intimately 
 brought home to domestic enjoyment as in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Great improvements had been achieved in 
 the place during their absence. A large por- 
 tion of their income, economized on the conti- 
 nent, had enabled Sir Richard to diversify the 
 park with plantations, and the extension of a 
 fine stream of water ; while the interior of the 
 house was adorned with the noble collection of 
 objects of art he had gradually amassed abroad. 
 The chef-d'oeuvre of the improvements, how- 
 ever, was a dressing-room destined for Matilda ; 
 which opened through a trelliced balcony to 
 the coved roof of the conservatory, concealed 
 by a screen of climbing exotics. Lined with 
 alternate panels of Florentine, Mosaic, and 
 Venetian glass, the intervening draperies were 
 of Lyons silk of the palest fawn colour. No 
 gilding, — no finery, — no starry ceiling or glitter- 
 injj cornices. The tables, carved from blocks of 
 the purest white marble, had been despatched 
 ^home from Carrara ; and an exquisite statue of
 
 280 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Silence, by Bartolini, graced the pedestal in the 
 alcove. 
 
 Conducted in triumph by her husband to this 
 temple of luxury, Matilda knew not whether 
 most to applaud the taste of its decorations, or 
 the consideration which had presided over their 
 selection. All alienation of feeling had long 
 ceased between Sir Richard and herself. So 
 complete was their re-union, that it seemed 
 scarcely explicable how coldness or mistrust 
 should ever have sprung up between them; 
 and Matilda felt grateful to him for having 
 effaced, by this preparation of a new chamber 
 for her use, all recollection of the painful hours 
 of her last sojourn at Selwood Manor. 
 
 All was sunshine now. — The house seemed to 
 have lost its former cheerless look ; and one at 
 least of its inhabitants had overcome since last 
 he crossed its threshold, the only unsatisfactory 
 circumstance connected with the spot. Sir 
 Richard no longer feared that the inheritance 
 he took so much pleasure in adorning, would 
 pass to the enjoyment of an enemy !— 
 
 " I like this room ; — I will have this room for
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 281 
 
 my own ; — I will come and live in this pretty 
 room with mamma !" — cried little Walter, 
 following Sir Richard and Lady Norman to their 
 retreat. 
 
 " There is no place for you here, Sir, — unless, 
 indeed, you mean to deprive me of mine," — said 
 Sir Richard, patting the wayward little fellow on 
 the head with doting fondness. 
 
 " May I turn him out, mamma ?" — persisted 
 the child. *' I should so much like to be with 
 you here, all to ourselves ! — " 
 
 " Upon my word, you have a good notion of 
 making yourself comfortable !" — resumed Sir 
 Richard, who could never see a fault in Walter. 
 " But I don't intend to be deposed before my 
 time. Content yourself with your nursery." 
 
 "Where is his nursery?" — demanded Matilda. 
 
 " At some distance, — in the eastern wing, — 
 the rooms that were mine in my childhood,'' 
 replied Norman, carelessly. " I sent orders to 
 have them refurnished, and have no doubt all is 
 very comfortable. The great advantage is, that 
 being so far off, you need not be troubled with 
 him more than you like."
 
 282 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " But I never trouble her ! — Do I, mamma V* 
 — cried Walter, sturdy in the assertion of his 
 rights. " I won't be sent away from her. I 
 won't stay in this place at all, if I may not re- 
 main with my mamma." 
 
 The exulting smile with which Sir Richard 
 glanced towards his wife, plainly expressed — 
 " Could a child of your own have loved you 
 more dearly?" But he found no correspondent 
 triumph in the eyes of his wife. He could al- 
 most fancy that hers were suffused with tears. 
 Hastily consigning the boy to the care of his 
 attendant, he invited her to saunter with him 
 through the shrubberies till dinner-time; but 
 Matilda pleaded fatigue. She was either over- 
 powered by her journey, or by the emotion pro- 
 duced by her return to that long-forgotten home. 
 
 Her heart experienced the need of other con- 
 solations than rich furniture or gay flower- 
 gardens. She wanted cheering friends — com- 
 fortable counsel. There was a weight upon her 
 mind — a weight she still lacked courage to con- 
 fide to her husband. She would have given 
 much for the solace of female companionship ; —
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 283 
 
 for the presence of her surviving sister, — of the 
 motherly Mrs. Ravenscroft, — the Hght-hearted 
 Sophia. But during her absence the chain of 
 her friendship and connections had been snapped 
 asunder. Miss Ravenscroft was now the happy 
 wife of Lord Seisdon, and settled with him at a 
 family mansion in Shropshire, beyond reach of 
 neighbourship with the Normans ; and her proud 
 mother was absent from Selwood cottage, pre- 
 siding over the events which had given a first 
 grandchild both to herself and hey friends at 
 Farleigh Castle. 
 
 Of the home of Matilda^s childhood scarcely 
 a trace remained. Upon the marriage of his 
 daughter Elizabeth with a rich Liverpool mer- 
 chant, old Maule had found it impossible to 
 confront, unsupported, the bickerings and twit- 
 tings of his partner. His health being impaired 
 by a paralytic seizure which disabled him for 
 business, he reluctantly resigned his sceptre 
 into the hands of his son. Cruttenden Maule 
 and his godfather now reigned in the old 
 man^s stead ; and if his place knew him no 
 longer, it was difficult for him to know his
 
 284 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 place ; — so completely had his old factory and 
 engines given way to the new-fangled construc- 
 tions now honouring the name of the firm. 
 
 Thwarted by their innovations and disheart- 
 ened bv sickness, Mr. Maule had divided the 
 years of Matilda's absence between his son's 
 rectory in Yorkshire, and his daughter's pleasant 
 country-seat on the banks of the Mersey ; and 
 Lady Norman feared that with the happy, pros- 
 perous Mrs. Avesford, she should entertain an 
 intimacy scarcely more sisterly than with the 
 Elizabeth tyrannized by Tom Cruttenden, and 
 estranged from her by the superstitious terrors 
 of her father. Her youngest sister had been 
 some years dead. Her brother William had 
 fallen at Waterloo in all the glitter of his first 
 Hussar jacket. There were none remaining 
 but her happily-married brother and sister, and 
 Cruttenden, who was becoming, as his father 
 had been before him, a mere wheel of the fac- 
 tory. From Lady Norman's own kindred, 
 neither sympathy nor companionship was to be 
 expected. 
 
 It is the fate even of the most prosperous
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 285 
 
 to experience moments of despondency, when 
 they fancy themselves abandoned by a world 
 that stands aloof to deride their sensibility, 
 and rejoice over their distresses. Such was 
 the mood of Lady Norman when, after being 
 cheered back to Selwood by hundreds of voices 
 and affectionately welcomed to her home by 
 the husband she adored, she took this hasty 
 glance of her loves and friendships; and de- 
 cided that the tie which linked her to her fa- 
 ther's household was broken for ever, and the 
 pleasant confidence of Selwood cottage wholly 
 destroyed. There was none to turn to for 
 comfort but her husband ; and it was precisely 
 in her husband that, at that moment, she felt 
 reluctant to confide. 
 
 For the event which, for so many years, she 
 had vainly sighed for, at length threatened ac- 
 complishment. — As if in mockery, — as if in 
 retribution, — her dearest wish was granted to 
 be her punishment. — For some months past, 
 Matilda had been aware that she was likely to 
 become a mother ! — 
 
 Admonished by her own regrets, she had not
 
 286 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 courage to communicate her expectations to Sir 
 Richard. She felt what must be his self-accu- 
 sation on learning a circumstance that promised 
 him a lawful heir, disinherited by his guilty 
 manoeuvres in favour of an alien. He had 
 defrauded his unborn child ; — its guilty mother 
 having connived in the act of spoliation ! — 
 
 Matilda dreaded the effect such intelligence 
 must produce upon her husband. Fondly 
 and intensely as she had longed to possess a 
 child of her own, all satisfaction in her pre- 
 sent prospect was destroyed by the fear that 
 she should produce a son, the sight of whom 
 must be a perpetual condemnation to his parents. 
 — What, what would now be the remorse of Sir 
 Richard, the instigator of that culpable trans- 
 action ! — 
 
 Still, he must be prepared. The time was at 
 hand when it would be no longer possible to 
 conceal the truth ; and nothing but the extreme 
 improbability that, after thirteen years' mar- 
 riage, such an event should occur, could account 
 for his blindness. Their return to Selwood 
 having been long intended, Matilda fancying
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 287 
 
 she should find it easier to announce the unwel- 
 come fact at home, had postponed her revela- 
 tion. Yet now that they were once more under 
 their own roof, she felt that there^ of all 
 places, the confession was most difficult. It 
 was so painful to damp the elation of spirit 
 arising from the sensation of being at home ; 
 and the pride of having to exhibit so noble a 
 boy as his son and heir ! — Matilda resolved to 
 defer it for a few days longer, — only for a few 
 days; enough to forward her own recovery 
 from the fatigues of her journey, and afford 
 time for the exaltation of her husband's spirits 
 to subside. 
 
 Every day, however, seemed to increase his 
 triumph. She almost regretted that the Abbe 
 O'Donnel had ceased to be her inmate, whom 
 she used formerly to fancy a check upon the 
 hilarity of Norman. But since the birth of the 
 child, the good old man had withdrawn from 
 their household to the college of which he was 
 a member ; taking leave of Matilda with so much 
 fervour of fatherly tenderness and compassion, 
 that she accused herself of want of charity in
 
 288 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 her previous suspicions. The Abbe bade her 
 adieu with tears; and though he refused to 
 perform the baptismal ceremony for her sup- 
 posed child, in disgust probably at the heresy of 
 the mother, he accompanied his farewell with a 
 solemn benediction to herself, at once gratifying 
 and affecting. 
 
 The news of the Normans' arrival at Selwood 
 Manor, soon brought visitors from all quarters 
 of the county. It was summer; the roads were 
 in good repair, (owing, as Lord Selsdon always 
 protested, to the number of magistrates and 
 notabilities attracted to the place during the 
 spinsterhood of his pretty wife ;) and acquain- 
 tances, both intimate and unfamiliar, came in 
 troops to ascertain whether Sir Richard and his 
 Lady were better looking, or worse for wear, 
 and to criticise the works of virtu they had been 
 collecting on the continent. 
 
 Of these visitors, their friends from Farleigh 
 Castle were the most welcome. Lady Emily, who 
 had attained the sober age of five and twenty 
 previous to their departure, seemed to have 
 added more than four years to her life in the
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 289 
 
 interim ; and Matilda, habituated to the usages 
 of the continent, could not help regretting that 
 Lady Emily should wither on the virgin stem, 
 growing cross and prudish according to the 
 spinster nature of old-maidenly England, for 
 want of some kind friend to brins: to issue the 
 many admirations of young men too modest to 
 press unencouraged pretensions to her hand. 
 Lady Emily's baffled instincts had found an 
 aim in teaching the young ideas of Far- 
 leigh village how to shoot; and, lacking the 
 softening partialities of motherly nature, her 
 preceptorship in Sunday schools and daily 
 classes, rendered her arbitrary and dictato- 
 rial. But if no longer a gentle graceful girl, 
 she was a woman of sense and good breeding ; 
 and as such, was duly conscious of the acqui- 
 sition secured to her society by the return of 
 Matilda. 
 
 *« Were you not surprised at my brother's 
 marriage ?" — she inquired, at her first solitary 
 visit to Selwood Manor. 
 
 " More pleased than surprised," replied Ladv 
 VOL. r. o
 
 290 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 Norman. " From the first, I thought it a likely 
 thing to happen. Two young people living in 
 such near neighbourhood, — on such friendly 
 terms." 
 
 " The very reason which prevented my anti- 
 cipating anything of the kind ! — Affairs of that 
 description so seldom occur in a straightforward, 
 matter-of-fact way. George used to come down 
 from town raving about Lady Emmeline this, 
 or Lady Helena the other, and seemed to take 
 very little notice of Sophy." 
 
 " He did not talk much of her, perhaps." 
 
 " He was afraid, it seems, that my father and 
 mother might expect him to make what is called 
 a better match." 
 
 " They had certainly a right to look for rank 
 and fortune for Lord Selsdon." 
 
 " I don't agree with you, dear Lady Norman ; 
 no more did they. If the only son of an Earl 
 with an unencumbered estate of thirty thousand 
 a-year, may not form a marriage of inclination, 
 who on earth has a right to make a choice ? 
 Sophy was a gentlewoman with a gentlewoman's
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 291 
 
 fortune and education, and a match for any man 
 in the kingdom." 
 
 " She had qualities to render any man in the 
 kingdom happy/' observed Matilda. " So much 
 sweetness of temper, — so much sprightliness of 
 character." 
 
 " Yet with all these probabilities to bring 
 the marriage about, it was very near failing of 
 accomplishment," said Lady Emily. " My 
 father and mother, who are the honestest people 
 breathing, and without the slightest capacity for 
 a manoeuvre, determined to bring about a con- 
 nection on which they had set their hearts, and 
 which would have settled itself without their in- 
 terference. With this vievY, they persuaded Mrs. ' 
 Ravenscroft to settle at Selwood; and soon 
 after her arrival, the old lady having accidentally 
 remarked to her lady-cousin that one of Lord 
 Arden's daughters would make a suitable match 
 for Selsdon, mamma put on a most significant 
 face, and begged she would not mention such a 
 thing, as she and Lord Farleigh had other views 
 for their son."
 
 292 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 " Alluding to Sophia ?— " 
 
 '« Exactly ; while Mrs. Ravenscroft, who has 
 seen something of the world in her time, instead 
 of conceiving that any such downright allusion 
 was intended, fancied mamma desirous of fore- 
 warning her against forming presumptuous ex- 
 pectations for her daughter. Meanwhile, Sels- 
 don's attentions to Sophy commenced and pro- 
 ceeded. You went abroad instead of remaining 
 
 o 
 
 to bring things to an issue between your young 
 friends ; and / have been too long accustomed 
 to see young gentlemen devote their homage to 
 young ladies without any serious intentions as 
 they are called, to suppose that these daily meet- 
 ings were producing other results than pleasant 
 rides and walks." 
 
 " Instead of which, Lord Selsdon fell des- 
 perately in love ? — " 
 
 *' And never told his love ; while Sophy not 
 only fell in love, but felt it her duty to acknow- 
 ledge to her mother her growing partiality. 
 More evil consequences from doing things in a 
 straightforward way, in this world of zigzag and
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 293 
 
 deceit ! — Mrs. Ravenscroft, terrified as she would 
 have been on learn inor that the cottage was in- 
 fected by cholera or typhus-fever, saw no re- 
 medy but flight. After informing Sophia, from 
 the authority of his own mother, that Lord Sels- 
 don was an engaged man, she ordered fumiga- 
 tions, — quitted home, — carried her daughter off 
 to Devonshire on a visit to Captain Ravenscroft's 
 relations, leaving us not even a message of 
 courtesy or farewell. Imagine poor Selsdon's 
 despair, and my indignation ! — " 
 
 " I can better imagine that of Sophia. Well 
 do I remember the desponding tone of the let- 
 ters I received from her ; which, as they 
 explained nothing of these occurrences, I attri- 
 buted to illness. I was so much alarmed as 
 to address Mrs. Ravenscroft on the subject, who 
 entreated me, in reply, to write cheerfully to 
 Sophia, and without giving her any suspicion of 
 my uneasiness. Scarcely a month afterwards, a 
 letter from Sophy, overflowing with love and 
 rapture, acquainted me that her marriage was 
 settled with the man of her choice ; — reminding 
 o 2
 
 294 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 me of a certain walk to a certain old forge 
 where we had met Loi'd Selsdon and been es- 
 corted by him home ; — and assuring me that her 
 prospects of happiness were confirmed by the 
 generous concessions of Lord and Lady Far- 
 leigh." 
 
 " Ungrateful girl to say nothing of their ami- 
 able daughter," cried Lady Emily, almost in 
 earnest ; *' when, if it had not been for my 
 exertions, she might have spent a twelvemonth 
 longer at Torbay, listening to the pother of her 
 uncles and aunts. It was I who, in compassion 
 to Selsdon, managed to find out the address of 
 the fugitives. I remember losing a whole 
 morning shouting my cross-examination to old 
 Mrs. Lynch, trying to detect, like a Bow-street 
 officer, the haunts and connections of the Ravens- 
 croft side, of which mamma knew nothing." 
 
 " And the result was, that Lord Selsdon fol- 
 lowed them, — proposed, — was accepted ; and, as 
 the story-books say, they lived very happy ever 
 afterwards? — " 
 
 " Too happy, I am sometimes inclined to
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 295 
 
 think," replied Lady Emily with a smile. " They 
 are so dreadfully domestic, self-satisfied, and 
 indolent, that I am sadly afraid of Selsdon's 
 sinking into a jovial, good-humoured, selfish, 
 agricultural-meeting, game-law, country-gentle- 
 man. My brother is growing fat and florid ; 
 noisy in company, and drowsy by his fire-side." 
 
 '* Fie, fie ! — this is exaggeration," — said Ma- 
 tilda smiling in her turn, " Sophia would never 
 tolerate such a companion. With all her ele- 
 gant pursuits, her music, her painting,* her 
 modelling. — " 
 
 "She has not given half an hour to any one 
 of them from the date of the honey-moon ! 
 interrupted Lady Emily. '* Sophy is a person of 
 cultivated tastes, rather than of cultivated under- 
 standing; and these required continual incite- 
 ment to keep them alive. Selsdon cares nothing 
 for music, unless the key-bugle; or for drawl- 
 ing, unless sporting pictures, or Cruickshank's 
 sketches. He likes his wife to dawdle about with 
 him all the morning, — ride with him all the 
 afternoon, and work Berlin work while he snoozes
 
 296 THE HEIR OF SELWOCD. 
 
 after dinner. This labour of love, Sophia accom- 
 plishes to a miracle. I don't believe they have 
 opened a book since they settled at Tuxwell 
 Hall !" 
 
 *' And now this little girl has made her ap- 
 pearance " 
 
 " There will be more dawdhng and fondling 
 than ever ! — '* 
 
 '* In such contented idleness consists per- 
 haps the truest happiness of life/' sighed 
 Matilda. " Lord and Lady Selsdon neglect 
 no duties in thus devoting themselves to each 
 other." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied Lady Emily, stoutly. 
 '' They owe something to society, — something 
 to my father and mother, — something to the 
 world. We can rarely get them to Farleigh 
 Castle, nor ever persuade Selsdon to give his 
 attention to county business, or prepare himself 
 for the coming session, when my uncle Henry 
 is to vacate his seat in his favour. They 
 scarcely ever leave home, — they are sinking into 
 obscurity; — I assure you, Mrs. Ravenscroft is
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 297 
 
 much the youngest and most agreeable of the 
 party." 
 
 " These are early times. They have only 
 been married two years," said Lady Norman. 
 " Almost every marriage produces tico years of 
 domestic devotion. For my friend Sophy's 
 sake, I wish I did not feel sure that Lord Sels- 
 don will live to be an excellent member of 
 parliament, — to preside at public dinners, — 
 head deputations, — present petitions, — frequent 
 Boodle's, and distinguish his darling Sophy by 
 the name of Lady Selsdon." 
 
 " That would be carrying things further than 
 I wish," cried Lady Emily, kindly. " \ love 
 my sister-in-law dearly ; and should be grieved 
 to see her neglected for the schemes of experi- 
 mental philanthropy which in these times form 
 such hosts of committees, associations, reports, 
 bad husbands, and careless fathers ; more es- 
 pecially as she has no taste for books to supply 
 the companionship she would have to dispense 
 with. But I do wish that Selsdon's wife had 
 been a woman more substantially educated, or
 
 298 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 more energetic in her nature ; and I trust my 
 dear Lady Norman will endeavour to rouse 
 poor Sophy from her habits of indolence. — And 
 now that I have abused her to my heart's con- 
 tent, let me see your little boy. — We are all 
 very curious to behold this prodigy— this little 
 Louis X IV. — this long-looked-for-come-at-last 
 young heir of Selwood Manor. I was sug- 
 gesting to Papa last night that, twenty years 
 hence, he would make a charming match for 
 little Louisa Farleigh. Do you give your con- 
 sent?" 
 
 " You forejet that Walter will be a Roman 
 Catholic," said Matilda, with a blushing face. 
 
 '* Twenty years hence, I suspect, that will be 
 a distinction without a difference,'* cried Lady 
 Emily. " The papists are becoming so mode- 
 rate, and the protestants so complying, that all 
 memory of fire and fagots is extinguished. We 
 shall have emancipation and a catholic chancel- 
 lor without so much as finding it out. Ha ! Sir 
 Richard — Good morning ! — Delighted to see 
 you back in Worcestershire. — I am come to
 
 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 299 
 
 have a peep at your pictures, and statues, and 
 son and heir ; and to propose an alliance for him 
 with my little niece. What say you ? — Will you 
 accept a Lady Louisa Norman ? — " 
 
 Sir Richard replied with playful gallantry, 
 — caused the boy to be paraded before his fu- 
 ture aunt, — and parried Lady Emily's compli- 
 ments on the dark hair and eyes of young Wal- 
 ter, as exactly resembling his own. For in spite 
 of Madame Gervais's civilities, the adopted 
 child bore a far stronger resemblance to Sir 
 Richard, than to the fair Saxon beauty of Ma- 
 tilda. 
 
 " I hope you will bring this little fellow with 
 you next week to Farleigh Castle," continued* 
 Lady Emily. '' My father and mother want 
 you to pass a day or two with us, to do honour 
 to the christening they are going to bestow upon 
 their grandchild. It would be a delightful sur- 
 prise for my sister-in-law to find Lady Norman 
 staying in the house." 
 
 To Matilda's great vexation, this cordial invi- 
 tation was accepted by her husband ; and long
 
 300 THE HEIR OF SELWOOD. 
 
 after Lady Emily's departure, she sat musing 
 upon the necessity of declaring all to her hus- 
 band, ere she encountered the scrutiny of the 
 large party of her own sex about to be assembled 
 at Farleigh Castle. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. C, Savill, Printer, 107, St. Martin's Lane.
 
 UNIVERSITY OP ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 046406978