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 THE LOST BRIDE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 GEORGIAN! LADY CHATTERTON. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1872. 
 
 Thf right or TrantiiUion it futrred.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGAVELL, 
 
 BLENHEIM HOUSE.
 
 gX3 
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 X 
 c/J 
 
 I MY ITALIAN CHILDHOOD. 
 
 S A QUIRE of foolscap paper is placed be- 
 
 fore me, and I am asked to relate the 
 
 ^ principal events of an apparently eventful 
 
 • life. 
 
 ? 
 
 t It now strikes me for the first time how 
 ' I 
 ^ little influence even the most marked of 
 
 . ^these events had on my character. Such, for 
 
 \instance, as the misery of sudden poverty, 
 
 ^ the loss or gain of riches, produced but little 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 effect or impression on my life. It was the 
 friend and enemy, the influence of congenial 
 companionship, or the reverse, which caused 
 the development of my self — that selfish 
 self which has now grown old in years, but 
 not in feelings, for my enjoyments in this 
 beautiful world are often keener than when 
 I was a thoughtless and apparently gay and 
 admired girl of sixteen. 
 
 But I should throw away this said quire 
 of foolscap with a shudder at the fool's-cap- 
 fittingness of the undertaking, and leave its 
 clean pages for some more useful object, if 
 the history of my life were not interwoven 
 with those I have loved better than myself, 
 and for whose history and sufferings and joys 
 I would gladly win the sympathy of a larger 
 circle of friends. For friends are to be found
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 3 
 
 among readers, friends who sympathize with 
 the better portions of our nature — who can 
 look on us with admiration and love — can 
 love even personally unknown friends better 
 than themselves. " Better than ourselves !" 
 These words contain the very pith of Plato's 
 teachings and Socrates' wise sayings. This 
 was ante-Revelation religion, and I only wish 
 that modern so-called philosophers, who fos- 
 ter the fatal self-sufficing religion of the day, 
 would " show us something as good." 
 
 My early youth was passed in Southern 
 Italy, my mother's home ; and although my 
 father was English and a Protestant, I was 
 brought up in my mother's faith, such as it 
 was, for she happened to have lived among 
 bad exponents of the religion. My father 
 possessed few of the characteristics of Pro- 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 testantism, and his tolerance and charity 
 were so great that instinctively I clung more 
 to his religion than T did to my mother s, 
 — or, rather, I did so after his death, which 
 happened at the most critical period of a 
 young Italian's girlhood — my fourteenth 
 year. 
 
 It was my first grief, and to my wild, ill-re- 
 gulated, and irreligious nature, it became de- 
 spair. For a few weeks after I was carried 
 forcibly from his grave, I shut myself up in 
 selfish woe, neglecting the duty of endeavour- 
 ing to comfort my mother — or, rather, I did 
 not fully believe in her sufferings, for I fan- 
 cied she had never been able to appreciate 
 his noble nature. For she was one of those 
 indolent and uneducated Italians whose 
 chief occupation in life seems to be the en-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 5 
 
 joyment of a dolce far niente, and of their 
 own loveliness and perfect health. From the 
 torpid stupor of despair I was at last roused 
 by the unexpected arrival of a distant rela- 
 tion of my mother's — the young Marchese 
 Carlo Spinola. His father lived near our 
 home at Sorrento, and from the time he 
 first helped my baby feet to climb the 
 orange trees, till he went to college, when I 
 was twelve years old, I hero-worshipped 
 him, and the dream and ambition of my 
 childhood was to be his wife. 
 
 Of late the news which reached my fa- 
 ther's ears of Carlo's career at college made 
 him look grave, and I sometimes feared that 
 he disapproved of the kind of childish and 
 half joking engagement there was between 
 us ; but neither my mother nor I would be-
 
 b THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 lieve that the handsome boy could do wrong. 
 I afterwards learnt, many years afterwards, 
 that his sudden return home, after two years' 
 absence, was caused by expulsion from the 
 the college for some grave offence. 
 
 I had never left my room since the day 
 of my father's funeral, and sullenly refused 
 to accompany my mother in her solitary 
 meals in the great state dining-room, or even 
 in her walks by the beautiful sea-shore, in 
 which I formerly delighted. Her old nurse 
 I^epita attended upon me with a persevering 
 assiduity and patience, which I sometimes 
 half-ungratefully resented. One day I heard 
 her running up the stairs with unusual ala- 
 crity, and bursting open the door, she called 
 out, with a shrill glee, " II Signor Carlo e 
 qui, e t'aspetta nel salone !" With a cry of
 
 THE LOST BEIDE. 7 
 
 joy, for which I afterwards felt ashamed, I 
 rushed down stairs, not even casting one 
 look in the large mirror, or attempting to 
 arrange ray flowing hair and negligent attire. 
 
 He was alone in the saloon, for it was the 
 hour of my mother's siesta^ and I was about 
 to rush up to him with the impetuous glee 
 of former childish times, when a glance at 
 the alteration which two years had made 
 suddenly arrested my steps. He was cer- 
 tainly handsomer than ever, and yet there 
 was an indefinite something I did not like, 
 and I half shrank from the fiery expression 
 of his dark flashing eyes, as I strove to dis- 
 engage myself from the embrace which al- 
 ready had frightened me by more than its 
 former impetuous warmth. 
 
 "You no longer love me, I see; you are not
 
 8 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 even glad I'm come," lie said, as he held my 
 head between his hands and looked into my 
 eyes. ^^ And you are more lovely than 
 ever," he continued, as he stroked my hair. 
 And then I first became aware of my neglect- 
 ed attire, and felt grateful to him for his 
 affection. 
 
 From that day I recovered all my former 
 high spirits, and the next three months were 
 the most wildly happy time of my early 
 youth ; for I was only fourteen, . and still 
 quite a child in mind, and very backward 
 in learning and accomplishments. 
 
 At the end of that delightful Summer my 
 guardian, Mr. Mordaunt, a distant relative of 
 my father's, arrived from England, and the 
 misery of my education began. He was 
 horrified to discover how little I knew, and
 
 THE LOST BEIDE. 9 
 
 shocked at the idle life I led with my cousin 
 Carlo. There was an end of all our de- 
 lightful rides and boating excursions along 
 the beautiful shores; and Mr. Mordaunt 
 seemed to have taken a most unaccountable 
 aversion to my cousin. 
 
 He tried to persuade my mother to bring 
 me to England, and place me at some good 
 school in London. She could not bear the 
 idea of leaving Italy, but consented to place 
 me in a convent at Naples. But he shook 
 his head, and at last, after many grave con- 
 sultations, it was agreed that he should take 
 me to Paris, and place me in a convent 
 there. 
 
 I did not like my guardian at all, and 
 could not help feeling much annoyed with 
 my dear father for having thus given me up
 
 10 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 to such a tyrannical and hard-hearted man. 
 I discovered afterwards that it was Mr. Mor- 
 daunt's father to whom my guardianship 
 had been left, but he died quite suddenly in 
 Ireland, a few days before my father, and 
 his son inherited what he seemed to think 
 a very troublesome office. 
 
 He was not rich either, and he complain- 
 ed bitterly of the expensive journey he had 
 deemed it his duty to take. Yet he was not 
 unkind in his manner to me ; he rather 
 bored me with the reverse, and I sometimes 
 fancied that he loved me, and was therefore 
 jealous of my evident affection for Carlo. 
 The latter was of course furious at the pro- 
 spect of my being taken away, and he ex- 
 torted from me a promise that we were to 
 keep up a secret correspondence, and that no
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 11 
 
 power on earth should prevent our marriage 
 as soon as he became of age. This would 
 be in two years, and in the meantime he 
 said he should come to see me in Paris. So 
 we parted full of hope, and I started with my 
 guardian and Pepita, leaving my mother cry- 
 ing at the doorsteps, having showed more 
 feeling at parting from me than I had believ- 
 ed she possessed ; and I began to love her 
 better than I had ever done before.
 
 12 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 MY ENGLISH HOME. 
 
 /AF the two years I passed in the convent 
 at Paris I shall say but little — for al- 
 though I made considerable progress in 
 learning and music, no other event than an 
 occasional letter from Carlo diversified the 
 monotony of the hours and days. Yet I 
 enjoyed the apparently dull life, and even 
 the constraint, and was rather sorry when 
 my guardian came to take me on a visit to 
 some of my relations in England. I had 
 seen him several times during the two years,
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 13 
 
 and was still less favourably impressed by 
 his countenance and manner. There was a 
 cat-like quietness in his walk, and stealthy 
 expression in his downcast eyes, that provok- 
 ed me. Carlo had once contrived to see rae 
 at the home of one of my schoolfellows by 
 whose means the correspondence had been 
 carried on. We renewed our vows of eternal 
 love, and he was still the hero of my ro- 
 mantic dreams ; and if anyone had told me 
 that in the course of years he or I should 
 change, it would have aroused my utmost 
 indignation. 
 
 I was to return to my mother at Sorrento 
 after the visits to my English relations were 
 ended, and then we resolved that our marriage 
 should take place. I fancy that my guard- 
 ian had discovered or suspected the clandes-
 
 14 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 tine correspondence, for he took every 
 opportunity of abusing Italians in general, 
 and the Marchese, as he would persist in 
 calling Carlo Spinola, in particular. 
 
 I could now speak English pretty well, 
 for I had learnt quickly that and other lan- 
 guages ; — thanks to the judicious teachings 
 of the good nuns. My father's place, Lang- 
 dale Priory, which I was to inherit when I 
 became of age, had been let for many years 
 to another of the Mordaunt family, and my 
 first visit was to him at Langdale, this home 
 of my ancestors. 
 
 There was a large picture of Langdale 
 Priory at our Italian home, and also some 
 good sketches made by my father, and he 
 had often described to me the different 
 rooms. The south drawing-room, that
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 15 
 
 looked on a broad terrace walk, and down 
 a grassy slope to the lake below, in one 
 of his sketches, was my favourite. I thought 
 less of the north side, which, in the large oil- 
 painting, was not so attractive, although that 
 was evidently the principal or show side of 
 the house, which had a fine portico in the 
 Italian style that succeeded the Ehzabethan 
 in England. 
 
 But on the south and garden side the 
 building was more irregular, and a fine old 
 gable and window remained, which 1 heard 
 had been part of a much older house. My 
 father had pointed out the nurseries in this ; 
 and a little oriel window on a lower level, 
 which he said had been his dear mother s 
 boudoir, was my especial object of admira- 
 tion.
 
 16 TUE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 It was fortunately a fine sunny evening 
 when we drove through the park gates, and 
 as I caught a first sight of Langdale Priory, 
 the whole palatial front showed to great ad- 
 vantage against a background of fine trees 
 which grew on the rising ground beyond 
 the lake. It was exactly the point of view 
 taken in the large picture, and I at once dis- 
 tinguished the library windows on the left 
 side of the broad portico, and those of the 
 dining-room on the right, and one of the 
 windows of my father's bedroom over it at 
 the western corner, looking towards the 
 stables, which was also a fine building, in 
 the same kind of Italian style, with a high 
 clock-tower. 
 
 '^ Yes, it is a fine place," said my guardian, 
 in his slow, oily voice, when he heard my
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 17 
 
 exclamation of delight at the first sight of 
 the place. " But how little prospect there 
 seemed to be, when your father left England, 
 that you would ever inherit the property ! " 
 
 "How was that?" I inquired, much 
 startled at the idea. "My father never 
 gave me the slightest hint." 
 
 " Oh ! I can quite understand that, for he 
 never would believe in the possibihty of his 
 elder brother's marriage. I always sus- 
 pected it, and that some fine day we should 
 have a great deal of trouble. However, 
 here we are at the door, and I will not mar 
 the joy I see you feel at your arrival in 
 your ancestral home, by any evil prognostica- 
 tions." 
 
 " Oh ! but do tell me all there is to know, 
 pray." 
 
 VOL I. c
 
 18 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 ''Another time I will. See, here are 
 actually Mr. and Mrs. Mordaunt, and Miss 
 Stanway, a tiresome old woman they call 
 Aunt Jane, at the door, come to have a look 
 at the young heiress." 
 
 He always called me the "young heiress," 
 and there was something in the words and 
 tone that grated on my ear particularly. 
 
 I liked the appearance of the Mordaunts, 
 and was still more pleased with the some- 
 what odd-looking but genial countenance of 
 Aunt Jane. 
 
 " You are no relation of mine," said the 
 latter, as she gave me a warm embrace, 
 " but I like your face, and you must always 
 call me Aunt Jane, remember." 
 
 " That I will," said I, as I kissed her on 
 both cheeks, according to the French fashion
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 19 
 
 I had been accustomed to see among my 
 companions at the convent. 
 
 As we had crossed over from Calais that 
 morning, and travelled all the day, Mrs. 
 Mordaunt said that I must be so tired and 
 starved, that I was to go and lie down, and 
 have some refreshment at once. 
 
 But Aunt Jane, who saw how eagerly I 
 was looking round the large hall, and de- 
 vouring with my eyes every picture, and the 
 finely-carved chimney-pieces at each end, 
 said, 
 
 " Oh ! no, she is not tired ; and, besides, 
 she could not possibly rest till she has seen the 
 house and gardens. I know she is longing 
 to be inside, and outside, and everywhere 
 all at the same moment. Come, I will take 
 charge of her, and show her the drawing- 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 rooms, and her grandmother's old south 
 boudoir." 
 
 " Oh ! do, for I always longed to be in- 
 side that beautiful oriel window I saw in my 
 dear father s sketch." And here the recol- 
 lection of him, and the feeling that every 
 part of this house was hallowed by his pre- 
 sence, that his eyes had rested on those very 
 pictures of our ancestors, his dear footsteps 
 and harmonious voice must have echoed 
 through these halls from the time he could 
 first crawl till he finally left the loved home 
 to accompany a still more loved wife to 
 Italy, aroused emotion almost beyond con- 
 trol. 
 
 My mother could not stand the English 
 climate, and this had been the greatest trial 
 of my father's life, owing to his peculiarly
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 21 
 
 deep attachment to his ancestral home. He 
 had let it at a very low rent to the Mor- 
 daunts, in order to ensure some good inhabi- 
 tants to enjoy themselves in it, and to take 
 care of the village poor. When Aunt Jane 
 took me out through the breakfast-room, 
 along the south terrace, to the farther cor- 
 ner, from whence my father had taken his 
 painting, my tears flowed so fast I could 
 scarcely see. 
 
 *' Now, sit down on this bench, and I will 
 leave you alone to look round on all the 
 objects your father loved so well. You 
 will find me in the breakfast-room when you 
 have wandered over the garden, where I 
 am sure you will like to go quite by your- 
 self." 
 
 I seized her hand, but could not speak,
 
 22 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 for a sudden pang of violent despairing 
 sorrow for my father's loss seemed to para- 
 lyze my senses, and I could scarcely refrain 
 from throwing myself on the ground, and 
 crying out with agony. For I was wild and 
 impetuous as ever, and had profited but 
 little in disposition or judgment from the 
 convent life. Although I was now what 
 many people called learned and accom- 
 plished, my mind and temper were still as 
 entirely uncultivated and untrained as when 
 I selfishly shut myself up at my father's 
 death, and would not be comforted. 
 
 The result of my solitary walk in the 
 south garden was an increased feeling of 
 adoration for my fathers memory, and 
 intense love for this place. I knelt down 
 and kissed the old high massive stone sun-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 23 
 
 dial, where he used to climb up as a child 
 to see the hour. A thousand little stories 
 of his boyhood and youth, long half for- 
 gotten, now returned ; and I heard the very 
 tones of his voice as he had related them to 
 me. A longing to know more about him 
 was mingled with a wonder that I had 
 hitherto been so strangely indifferent about 
 it. 
 
 The sight of his old residence seemed to 
 have developed suddenly a number of new 
 interests and ardent attachments. I felt 
 that I loved that old place better than any- 
 thing in the world. And Carlo ? A pang 
 of almost remorse seized me as I thought of 
 him at last. I seemed to dread being unfaith- 
 ful to him, as it occurred to me that even his 
 love would not reconcile me, as love for his
 
 24 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 bride seemed to have done my father, to 
 live away from this enchanting place. 
 
 " Then 1 suppose I love my father even 
 better than Carlo ? Can this be possible ?" 
 I thought. Strange that the first time I had 
 ever really analysed my feelings, or ever 
 put them into words, was during that first 
 stroll through the Langdale Priory gardens. 
 '' But of course Carlo will like to live here," 
 I continued to reflect. "I shall be rich, 
 too, and he values riches ; and he will have 
 even greater luxuries here — the fine Eng- 
 lish horses and carriages which I had heard 
 so much praised both in Italy and Paris ; 
 and he has already spent more than his 
 father can afford to give him," I reflected, 
 too. " Yes, he will certainly be happy 
 here," and I walked with a proud step to-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 25 
 
 wards the house, with the foolish exultation 
 of being able to confer all this on my be- 
 trothed. 
 
 At that moment I discerned my guardian's 
 face in the oriel window, and the sneering 
 and exultant smile on it reminded me most 
 painfully of the mysterious words he had 
 uttered. " How little I thought this pro- 
 perty would ever be yours ! " I fancy that 
 he could read my exulting thoughts, and 
 saw the buoyancy of my step and proud 
 bearing. 
 
 A shudder came over me as I felt that he 
 might, by some mysterious agency, have 
 power to deprive me of all this. I had 
 heard my father say, '* Mordaunt is a good, 
 clever man of business — a lawyer that could 
 make people believe black was white. He
 
 26 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 would be sure to manage her property well, 
 and there may be difficulties." 
 
 I now remembered his having one day 
 said this to my mother, when he was first 
 taken ill, and he told her he had appointed 
 Mr. Mordaunt my guardian. She was to 
 write to him at once if he got worse. I felt 
 now quite sick with apprehension, and de- 
 termined I would ask Aunt Jane about him, 
 and why my father appointed his father my 
 guardian — why it was necessary to have 
 such a clever man to manage it — why it 
 might be necessary to make people believe 
 black was white. I now felt that if I were 
 ever deprived of this dear place, with all its 
 hallowed recollections, I should never be 
 happy again — never could be happy any- 
 where else.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 27 
 
 The idea of its possible loss intensified 
 my adoration for it. And that horrible 
 man evidently wanted me to love him. 
 Could he really love me, or was it for my 
 riches ? If the latter, why did his evil eyes 
 glisten with satisfaction when he said those 
 mysterious words that cast a doubt upon 
 my inheritance ? Yes, he had rapturously 
 enjoyed the horror and surprise which, I 
 am sure, my countenance must have shown. 
 
 I ran into the breakfast-room, with the 
 intention of asking Aunt Jane, and was 
 much disappointed at not finding her alone. 
 
 "Well, my dear little girl," she said, 
 " you have lived a good deal during the 
 last half hour. I really believe you have 
 thought more in that time than all the rest 
 of your little life."
 
 28 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " How could you know that ? Does my 
 face show all I have been thinking and 
 feeling ?" 
 
 " Yes ; you are several years older than 
 you were yesterday. You have thought, 
 and you have put your feelings into thoughts 
 and words for almost the first time in your 
 life ; you have been very happy and very 
 miserable, and now you are in a kind of 
 mysterious doubt, which it annoys you to 
 
 remain in." 
 
 " You must be a perfect witch," I said, 
 " to discover all this, and I do so long- " 
 
 " You do so long for a good talk with 
 me ?" said the old aunt. " Well, you shall 
 have it after dinner in my room, and I will 
 tell you all I know, or rather suspect." 
 
 As she repeated the last word my guard-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 29 
 
 ian entered the room. I saw that he turned 
 pale, and he said, with oily politeness, 
 "What is it Miss Stanway suspects?" 
 *' A great deal, and perhaps you can help 
 me to unravel it ; but I have no time to 
 relate it now, for we must all dress for 
 dinner."
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AUNT JANE. 
 
 f\^ looking back on my first impression 
 of English people in contrast to those 
 Italians with whom I had chiefly lived, I 
 find that I was struck with the spirit of fun, 
 or, rather, perhaps the appreciation of the 
 ridiculous which the English possess. Per- 
 haps I inherited this turn from some of my 
 father's ancestors — certainly not from him- 
 self, for I never saw in him any signs of it. 
 This dear old maid, called Aunt Jane at
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 31 
 
 Langdale Priory, first showed me this (to 
 me) new sense. Though perfectly good- 
 natured, she was always discovering the 
 ridiculous side of everything and everybody, 
 and she enchanted me by her observa- 
 tions. 
 
 Another attraction Aunt Jane possessed 
 was her evident dislike to my guardian, and 
 the kind manner in which she defended me 
 from his advances. When I went to her 
 room that first evening she told me a great 
 deal about my family which I had never 
 heard before. It must have been a sore 
 subject to my father, who had been deeply 
 attached to his eldest brother, and this was 
 probably the reason that he never mention- 
 ed to me even that he had ever had one. 
 
 Henry Vivian, the eldest son of my grand-
 
 32 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 father, and heir to a much larger property 
 than that which I was soon to inherit, had 
 been very wild in his youth. But he must 
 have been not deficient in intellect or attrac- 
 tion, for he took a high degree at college, 
 and was extremely popular in the exclusive 
 and fastidious London Society of Almack's 
 time. But a fatal passion for gambling, and 
 repeated losses at play, obliged my grand- 
 father to sell much of the fine old property, 
 which had belonged to the family for many 
 generations. When Aunt Jane told me 
 this I suddenly remembered what my father 
 said when showing me the view of Lang- 
 dale Priory. *' Yes, it's a grand old place, 
 but almost too large for the property that 
 
 remains." 
 
 At one time, after repeated losses. Aunt
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 33 
 
 Jane said that the family went abroad to eco- 
 nomize, and the place was let, and the prodi- 
 gal son was seized with such a fit of remorse 
 at seeing the grief of his. father and brother, 
 that he suddenly disappeared, and for seve- 
 ral months no one knew what had become 
 of him. At last a letter arrived from New 
 Zeal'and, where he said he was endeavour- 
 ing to make a fortune, and replace some of 
 the losses entailed by his extravagance. His 
 father wrote to beg he would return home, 
 but no answer came. As he was idolized 
 by his family, in spite of all his faults, they 
 were miserable at receiving no answer to 
 various letters. At last my father determin- 
 ed to go there and seek his brother. His 
 father objected strongly at first, as he dread- 
 ed the dangers of the voyage, and the search 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 in an unsettled country. Besides, my father 
 was his favourite son, and having no other 
 children, he feared that the old property, 
 to which he was deeply attached, might be 
 left without an inheritor of the time-honour- 
 ed, ancient name. 
 
 However, the entreaties of my father at 
 last prevailed, and he sailed for New Zealand. 
 When he arrived at the place from which 
 his brother's last letter was dated he neither 
 found him, nor was there anyone who could 
 inform him what had become of Henry Vi- 
 vian. No person of that name had been in 
 the town within the recollection of the post- 
 master ; and, to my father's dismay, he found 
 the letters destined for him unclaimed. At 
 the inn he found that a gentleman, answer- 
 ing the description of Mr. Vivian, had been
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 35 
 
 there six months before — a Mr. Smith — who 
 had paid his bill, and they believed he had 
 proceeded by the public conveyance on the 
 road towards a neighbouring town. I will 
 not detail here the various adventures my 
 father had in his search, which Aunt 
 Jane, and also Mr. Mordaunt, described to 
 me. 
 
 After searching for six months in the 
 island, my father obtained some information 
 which led him to suppose his brother had 
 sailed in a ship for Canada. There he went, 
 and when travellincr throupjh Canada he 
 chanced to meet his cousin, Mr, Mordaunt, 
 my guardian, and they both searched for 
 several months. They then agreed to 
 separate, and Mr. Mordaunt went south, and 
 my father in an opposite direction, having 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 formed a plan by which they could com- 
 municate in case of need. 
 
 Some time afterwards my father received 
 a letter from Mr. Mordaunt, in which he an- 
 nounced that he had discovered the place 
 where Mr. Vivian had died. A beautiful 
 girl, who seemed to have been much at- 
 tached to the handsome young Englishman, 
 related how they had been for a little sail 
 on the lake, and were overtaken in a storm. 
 The boat was upset, and as Mr. Vivian en- 
 deavoured to save the poor girl's life by 
 swimming on shore, he was struck by the 
 keel of the boat and killed, but she was res- 
 cued by a fishing-boat which came up. The ac- 
 count of all the circumstances was attested by 
 such evident grief on the part of the girl, that 
 my father had no doubt as to the truth of
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 37 
 
 the story ; confirmed too by her possession 
 of Henry Vivian's watch and other small 
 articles which he had in his possession when 
 he left England. 
 
 He had been buried at the nearest town 
 under the name of Mr. Stuart, and she, poor 
 girl, had no idea that it was not his own. 
 He had engaged himself as a farm-labourer 
 on the plantation, but though he seemed so 
 poor, she was convinced he was a real gentle- 
 man, and was quite unfit for such hard work. 
 
 There seemed to my father no doubt that 
 his poor brother had thus met with an un- 
 timely end, and he returned in deep grief to 
 England, taking with him the watch and 
 some papers which the girl gave up — in fact 
 all the relics which could be found of my 
 unfortunate uncle.
 
 38 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 My grandfather never recovered the shock 
 of his eldest son's death, and in less than a 
 year afterwards he had a paralytic stroke, 
 j^nd soon afterwards died. My father of 
 course succeeded to the old place, and as 
 much of the old property as had not been 
 sold to pay my uncle's gambling debts. 
 
 Soon after my father came into possession, 
 Aunt Jane said she heard vague rumours 
 that a m.arriage had taken place between the 
 elder brother and the girl who had described 
 his death, and that a child had been born. 
 The instant this rumour reached my father's 
 ears he started for Canada, and hastened to 
 the place where the Canadian girl had lived, 
 but no trace of her could be discovered. 
 
 It seemed that she had not belonged to 
 that part of the country, and those in the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 39 
 
 neighbourhood who remembered her and 
 the handsome Mr. Stuart, said that she came 
 there with him, and that she had disappear- 
 ed a few weeks after my father and Mr. 
 Mordaunt visited the place. My father now 
 bitterly lamented that he had lost sight of 
 the girl, but still it seemed very impro- 
 bable that if she were really married she 
 should not have declared it, and made some 
 claim upon the family of a man who she 
 must have heard was rich, for her own main- 
 tenance and that of the child, if such was 
 expected to be born. 
 
 He remained some months in America, 
 and left no means untried to obtain a clue 
 to the whereabouts of the girl. Finding it 
 utterly hopeless, he returned to England ; 
 and the strange rumours which had caused
 
 40 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 all this troublesome search soon died away 
 Aunt Jane had almost forgotten them till 
 she sawMr. Mordaunt, after my father's death; 
 and there was something in the mysterious 
 way in which he spoke of me, and of his un- 
 expected and arduous task of guardianship, 
 that roused her curiosity, and reminded her 
 of the strange old story which had been so 
 long forgotten. But whether Mr. Mordaunt 
 really thought there was some truth in the 
 old vao;ue rumour, or whether he himself 
 purposely wished to revive it for some 
 scheme of his own, she was unable to dis- 
 cover. 
 
 A few days after my arrival at Langdale 
 Priory, I was delighted to find that my 
 guardian was going away on business. Then 
 I spent some most happy weeks at my new
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 41 
 
 old home ; and I visited all the poor people, 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Mordaunt and Aunt 
 Jane. My only anxiety was caused by hear- 
 ing nothing of Carlo ; and even this cloud 
 was soon dispelled by a letter which came 
 from him, enclosed from Mademoiselle de 
 Bonnevalle. It chanced to arrive at break- 
 fast time ; and Aunt Jane was opposite to 
 me when I read it. She said nothing at 
 the moment, but I felt that the piercing 
 glance of her keen eyes was upon me, and 
 saw the deep blushes they caused. Of 
 course she soon discovered all about it, and 
 she endeavoured to make me describe Carlo. 
 She did this with so much kind interest that 
 I was quite glad to have some one to talk 
 to about him. Yet I was rather perplexed 
 at not being able to tell her more about his
 
 42 THE LOST RRIDE. 
 
 character, or what he had said. I always 
 thought I knew him so well, until her 
 shrewd and searching questions made it 
 seem as if I scarcely knew him at alL 
 
 ** And now tell me why you love him ?" 
 she gravely inquired, after my ineffectual 
 attempts to enlighten her as to his merits. 
 
 " Because 1 do," was my simple and silly 
 answer. 
 
 " Well, and are you sure he loves you ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! yes, certainly — there can be no 
 doubt of that." 
 
 " I suppose not, for you are very love- 
 able. But is he rich ? — and would he love 
 you as much if you had no fortune ?" 
 
 " Oh I that would be dreadful I" I said ; 
 while a cold shudder passed through me at 
 the idea.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 43 
 
 " Well, don't look so miserable," she said ; 
 and she kissed my now pale cheek. " We 
 will hope for the best."
 
 44 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ENJOYMENT. 
 
 rpHERE were not many neighbours near 
 Langdale Priory, and Mrs. Mordaunt 
 often expressed great fear lest I should find 
 it dull Dull!— this English word "dull," 
 for which no exact Italian equivalent could 
 be found, often puzzled me ; and I had 
 never realised in myself the meaning, or 
 rather sensation, of dulness. Miserable I 
 had been, miserable and despairing, discon- 
 tented, suffered what seemed to be agonies
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 45 
 
 at the moment ; but my wild sensations were 
 all too active and vivid to allow room for 
 dulness. Still less could I connect the idea 
 of dulness with the beautiful place which 
 inspired me with a kind of joyful adoration ; 
 not a peaceful appreciation, but a downright 
 actively joyous affection. I could never tire 
 of running round the old trees, and rambling 
 in the woods, visiting the cottages, and talk- 
 ing to and listening to the people, old and 
 3'Oung, who inhabited the village near. 
 
 Then there was the library ; and T dis- 
 covered my father's marks in many of the 
 books, and they gave me a never-ending 
 fund of interest and delight. I certainly did 
 not inherit any of my mother's peaceful 
 dolce far niente enjoyments, for I devoured 
 with the keenest ardour books on all kinds
 
 46 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 of subjects ; and the happy day never seemed 
 long enough for all I wished to do. 
 
 Aunt Jane used to bring her work — little 
 garments she was always making for the 
 poor — and sit in the corner of the deep bay- 
 window. She had read a good deal in 
 English, and a little in French, but she was 
 entirely unacquainted with German and 
 Italian literature. So I translated passages 
 to her as she sat at work, and her keen 
 appreciation of the beauties of some of my 
 favourite passages delighted me beyond 
 measure. 
 
 '' I must take you to see my dear little 
 friend Norah," she said one day, in the 
 middle of a passage I was reading to her. 
 " I should like you to teach her some of 
 these languages, and other things you know,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 47 
 
 for she has learnt little, and yet how much 
 older in mind she is than you are ; but I 
 don't want you to develop quickly. Suffer- 
 ing will do that some day, and I foresee you 
 will have a great deal of trouble with your- 
 self" 
 
 " Who is little Norah, and why have you 
 never mentioned her before ?" 
 
 " Because I only heard this morning she 
 has returned to her father's home. I am 
 afraid it will scarcely seem like a home to 
 her again, for he married a few months ago, 
 and, from all I hear, the poor girl will not 
 have a satisfactory step-mother." 
 
 " Poor girl, how very sad ! Do let me 
 see her." 
 
 "Yes, we will all go and call at Chandos 
 Mount to-morrow, and perhaps Mrs. Mor-
 
 48 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 daunt will ask little Norali to return home 
 with us." 
 
 The next day we started, after luncheon, 
 in the luxurious open carriage, which I al- 
 ways enjoyed so much, and drove through 
 the largest part of our beautiful park on the 
 road to Chandos Mount. 
 
 How I did admire that thoroughly Eng- 
 lish park, with its graceful deer and splendid 
 oaks! — its deep fern-clad dells and upland 
 slopes, where the silvery stems of the beech- 
 trees shone hke jewelled pillars supporting 
 gardens of richly-varied foliage. How I did 
 enjoy the variety of colouring, the breezy, 
 heath-scented air, all the fresh forest smells, 
 which were so new to me, and, added to the 
 interest of association with my dear father's 
 memory, w^ere all the more striking from
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 49 
 
 their contrast to anything I had seen in 
 Italy. The glowing beauties of even Sor- 
 rento, with its richly-scented orange-groves, 
 which had sometimes oppressed me with 
 their power, its dazzling lights and shades, 
 the vivid blue sea and unclouded sky, had 
 less charm for me than the refreshing sights, 
 and quiet, homely sounds of my own, my 
 father s own dear park. 
 
 Then that delightfully easy open carriage, 
 with its well-appointed horses, that drove 
 the same quick, steady pace up and down 
 the steepest hills of the park. 
 
 " Well, I do enjoy riches," thought I, with 
 a sudden feeling of humiliation, " and every- 
 thing seems more luxurious in England, be- 
 cause, I suppose, people are richer." I had 
 been struck with the contrast of the thorough- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 ly well-managed establishment at the Priory, 
 and that of most even rich Italian houses 
 I had seen. The quiet respectfulness of the 
 old English servants, who seemed to do 
 everything exactly right, with a noiseless 
 and unbustling precision. In fact, I after- 
 wards made up my mind that no country 
 produces — or rather did produce in my young 
 days — such good servants as England, and I 
 attribute this to the natural respect the lower 
 feel for the upper circles, from the remains 
 of the ancient feudal system. The country 
 which produces the worst servants is Ireland. 
 And now I am going to say something which 
 will shock people horribly, in these days of 
 exaggerated sympathy with the " wrongs of 
 Ireland." I think the greatest wrong Ire- 
 land has to complain of is that it has never
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 51 
 
 been thoroughly amalgamated with England. 
 Why should it not have been so (if it were 
 formally taken possession of) as well as the 
 races of any other country in the world have 
 been with some other people than the first 
 inliabitants ? Of course all conquest is to be 
 deplored ; but still, if the avarice and in- 
 firmity of human nature propels people to 
 usurpation, it must be better that the vari- 
 ous parts should be welded into one liar- 
 monious whole. 
 
 Then came the strife of religion in Ire- 
 land, which still further retarded any har- 
 monious settlement of rights. And, un- 
 fortunately of all strifes, those that are 
 falsely called religious are the most deadly. 
 Multitudes will willingly risk their lives, 
 and die for what they think is their religion ; 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 iifaiv/CRQlTV OF II LINOIS
 
 52 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 and still more willingly kill others for it. 
 But, alas ! how few can be found to live for 
 it — to live according to God's law and 
 Christian precepts ; for if we would but do 
 this, there would be an end of all war and 
 strife. 
 
 But what a digression is all this from the 
 drive to Chandos Mount, when none of these 
 sage thoughts came into my head, for I 
 never reasoned then — nor did I think much. 
 I only enjoyed, thoroughly enjoyed my life, 
 and everything around me.
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CHANDOS MOUNT. 
 
 "TN the course of our drive, Aunt Jane 
 gave us some account of the Chandos 
 family. Mr. Chandos had been for some 
 years a widower, with a large family, but 
 not a large fortune. His first wife, who had 
 no fortune of her own, had been a good 
 manager, and contrived to sustain in some 
 degree the respectability of the family, 
 which was one of the oldest in the county ; 
 but various losses, and the heavy incum-
 
 54 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 brances on the property left by his father, 
 rendered the task of making both ends 
 meet, at the end of the year, very difficult 
 to a person of Mr. Chandos's average 
 capacity. 
 
 So, after his first wife's death, his affairs 
 soon got into sad confusion, and debts be- 
 came more and more pressing, in spite of 
 the efforts of his eldest daughter, Norah, 
 who had lost her mother when she was only 
 thirteen years old. She had endeavoured 
 to follow her dear mother's example, and 
 kept the house-accounts with the greatest 
 care and regularity ; but the brothers were 
 extravagant, and unforeseen school and col- 
 lege bills came in, and their father was 
 over-indulgent, so that two years before, they 
 had been on the verge of utter ruin.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 65 
 
 The chief mortgage on the old property 
 had been taken up by a rich tallow-chandler, 
 who was the happy and triumphant father 
 of one blooming daughter. Of course he 
 wished that she should marry an earl at 
 least; but his wife was so vulgar that he 
 found it difficult to make his daughter 
 acquainted with any; and, at last, they all 
 thought it would be a good thing if the 
 blooming girl were to become mistress of 
 Chandos Mount, and take her place among 
 the best families in the county. 
 
 Aunt Jane did not at all know what kind 
 of girl the young heiress was, as she had not 
 been in that part of the country while the 
 projected marriage was on the tajns. All 
 she knew was that poor Norah had appre- 
 hended the change most sadly, because, in
 
 56 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 spite of all their difficulties, she had a most 
 happy home with her father ; that some 
 few people pitied her very, very much, 
 while others declared that Mr. Chandos had 
 done the very best thing he could for him- 
 self and all his starving family. 
 
 " Then you must feel the greatest curio- 
 sity to see what kind of person this new 
 Mrs. Chandos is like ?" said I. 
 
 '^That may not be so easy as you think, 
 my dear child, for I believe she is only 
 twenty-three, and with such a very disad- 
 vantageous training as she must have had, 
 she may turn out a very different kind of 
 person from what she probably will now 
 appear to be — that is, if dear little Norah 
 can ever succeed in obtaining any influence 
 over her."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 57 
 
 When we arrived at the gate of Chandos 
 Mount, Aunt Jane and Mrs. Mordaunt both 
 exclaimed that the place was quite spoilt ; 
 for a beautiful grove of beech-trees, which 
 had ornamented the Mount behind the 
 house, had been cut down, and was replaced 
 b}^ a large kitchen-garden, and a variety of 
 hot-houses and conservatories. Then some 
 fine oaks, which had adorned the lawn in 
 front of the house, were also cut down, and 
 replaced by a few diodaras and arocarias, 
 and highly-fashionable garden-beds. 
 
 " Oh 1 then she has her own way in every- 
 thing, I fear," said Aunt Jane, as she lifted 
 up her hands in dire dismay. " All money ! 
 — dear, dear, how much harm this nasty 
 money does, when it is not guided by good 
 taste and good feeling !"
 
 58 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 " Really ?" inquired I, who had been gra- 
 dually led to think that money did every- 
 thing, because the rich Englishmen had 
 such beautiful places, and everything seemed 
 so expensive. 
 
 *' Yes ; and look ! they have spoilt the 
 house, too ; the only nice old bit is gone — 
 that old west wing, which was the only 
 part of the original mansion, and they have 
 built some fine modern rooms, I suppose, 
 instead of the dear old south wainscoted 
 parlour, with its polished and carpetless oak 
 floor and lattice windows. Oh ! dear, I am 
 afraid I hate the woman already !" she said, 
 with a deep sigh, as we drove up to the 
 door. 
 
 It was answered by a finely-dressed but- 
 ler and several tall footmen in powder.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 59 
 
 *' Mrs. Chandos was at home, but Miss 
 Chandos was out riding with Mr. Chandos," 
 was the reply. So we all got out and 
 walked through some rooms, magnificently 
 furnished ; but they smelt so new, and 
 everything was so heavy-looking and alike 
 in them, that I did not at all admire them. 
 At last we came to one which, as Aunt Jane 
 whispered to me, had replaced her dear old 
 oak parlour ; and here great masses of yel- 
 low satin and gold oppressed our sight, and 
 we walked on a thick carpet full of colours 
 tliat seemed to clash the eye ; yet, though 
 it was over-crowded, there was a bareness, 
 a want of habitableness in it I did not 
 like. 
 
 No one was there, and we had time to 
 look round on the bare walls — I mean,
 
 60 THE LOSr BRIDE. 
 
 bare of everything but the green damask 
 satin, which had been strained so tight over 
 them that it looked like glazed paper. No 
 picture, not even a print, diversified the 
 expanse of bareness. The ceiling was 
 heavy with some kind of gilt tracery- work, 
 which seemed to dazzle without embellish- 
 ing. 
 
 A few books in fine bindings, which 
 looked as if they had never been read, were 
 laid in a precise pattern on one of the inlaid 
 tables ; on another was a costly vase, filled 
 with some choice exotics. The costly chairs 
 were placed at such long distances from 
 each other, that one felt it impossible to be 
 really sociable in the room ; so we all sat 
 down in different parts, and waited for the 
 arrival of the owner. She was probably
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 61 
 
 changing her dress, for a long time elapsed 
 before she appeared. 
 
 And then a great rustling of silk was 
 heard, the door opened, and Mrs. Chandos 
 made us a remarkably elaborate and grave 
 bow, as she stopped short, after shutting the 
 door. Her studied walk across the room 
 would probably have satisfied any dancincr 
 or deportment-master, as also her greeting 
 of the guests. She sat down as near as the 
 large chair would permit to Mrs. Mordaunt, 
 and expressed, in well-selected terms, the 
 pleasure she experienced at seeing her. 
 
 " And I have often heard Miss Chandos 
 speak of Miss Stanway," said she, turning 
 her head, with chin well raised, towards 
 Aunt Jane. 
 
 '' I am sorry not to find her at home,"
 
 62 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 said Aunt Jane; "for Mrs. Mordaunt and 
 we all had a project of trying to persuade 
 
 vou to let us take her home with us." 
 
 «/ 
 
 " I am sure Miss Norah will be greatly 
 honoured by your proposal. I will tell her 
 of your projected kind intentions, if you 
 will commission me to do so," she said, in 
 slow and probably studied accent. 
 
 At this moment a sound of children's 
 voices was heard in the garden near, and an 
 angry frown was visible on the fair lady's 
 countenance. 
 
 "I must apologize for their bad be- 
 haviour," she said. " I hope the boys will 
 be kept in better order when the new tutor 
 comes. We thought it advisable to have 
 one to supplement their education after 
 their first school, before they go to College."
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 63 
 
 *' x\nd have you a governess, too, for the 
 little girls ?" inquired Aunt Jane. 
 
 *^ There has been a slight difficulty in that 
 respect, for the one we had engaged did not 
 turn out so well as we were induced to sup- 
 pose, from the high situations in which she 
 had resided, so we. were obliged reluctantly 
 to part with her, and are now endeavouring 
 to find another. We have commissioned 
 Lady Horatia Sonierton to inquire, as we 
 should prefer a French, or, rather, Italian 
 one," she added, as she turned round to- 
 wards me with another bow and smile, that 
 was probably intended for a compliment to 
 the country from which I came. *' Italian 
 is such a beautiful language, it would be a 
 pity that the girls should not acquire a pure 
 accent. The Roman is considered the best, 
 is it not ?" she inquired.
 
 64 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 ^' I don't know," said I, '' for I never was 
 in Rome." 
 
 " Never in Rome ! That is strange. We 
 passed a month there last Winter, and my 
 admiration of all I saw was extreme." 
 
 After a few more commonplace remarks, 
 we got up and took leave of Mrs. Chandos. 
 Mrs. Mordaunt expressing a hope that we 
 should soon have the pleasure of seeing her 
 and Mr. Chandos at the Priory; at which she 
 twisted her head about, and said, with an 
 elaborate smile, 
 
 '' I thank you for the honour of the obser- 
 vation."
 
 65 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NEW STEP-MOTHER. 
 
 '' T)ERHAPS she tries to do her best," 
 said Aunt Jane, after a long silence, 
 during our drive home, for neither Mrs. 
 Mordaunt nor I had ventured to put into 
 words any favourable impression of the 
 bride. 
 
 " She shows, at all events, respect for her 
 teacher, and takes pains to act, and look, 
 and speak as she has been taught by the 
 schoolmistress, or person to whom her edu- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 G6 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 cation has been entrusted. She is obliged 
 to think of her words and looks, because 
 they cannot come naturally to her, as they 
 would to a person brought up differently ; 
 and though she cannot yet be natural, she 
 may become so in time. For now, when 
 she has to pronounce a word with an h in 
 it she must remember that it is to be well 
 sounded." 
 
 " Well, you do always find some excuse 
 for everybody, or some good in them. Now, 
 I thought it was only pretensions silliness," 
 said Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 " We must remember that she is not 
 speaking with her father or her mother, 
 consequently she knows that we shall con- 
 sider it vulgar if she spoke as they do, who 
 put all their h's wrong, and their speecli it^
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 67 
 
 characteristic of quite the low order froQi 
 which they spring." 
 
 " But the speech of our poor cottagers is 
 not vulgar," said I. 
 
 " No, because that is genuine, and their 
 minds are refined by suffering and humility," 
 said Aunt Jane. " She showed an interest in 
 the tutor and the governess which looked 
 kind, and almost more than one could have 
 expected in a fine-dressed, and probably 
 purse-proud woman, of her youth and inex- 
 perience." 
 
 " Well, I know I should not like to be her 
 daughter-in-law," said I. 
 
 '' Nor dear Norah, I fear ; but we shall 
 see. I do not profess to know Mrs. Chan- 
 dos's character, or even disposition, at all, in 
 that one interview. The improvements, or 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 rather disfigurement of the place, had preju- 
 diced me more against her than her own 
 appearance did, for I always observe more 
 of person's characters by their rooms than by 
 their faces. The bare and tasteless rooms 
 of rich people, rooms unmarked with the 
 stamp of the inhabiter's mind, however much 
 they may have been laden with upholstery, 
 have a much more depressing effect on me 
 than even the interior of the poorest cottage. 
 The latter calls forth hope. Blessed are, 
 in fact, and will be, the poor. A life of 
 necessary active labour must be better for 
 the mind than the stagnating rest or leisure 
 in which those rich people vegetate whose 
 minds are too small and uncultivated to use 
 their riches well." 
 
 *' So that you rather regret, upon the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 69 
 
 whole, that Mr. Chandos has given your 
 favourite Norah a new mother?" 
 
 *' Yes, for her I do ; for that kind of 
 half-bred woman, united with her loved 
 father, must clash with her fine sensibilities. 
 But for the rest of the family 1 can't say, 
 for extreme poverty is a dreadful thing." 
 
 " Yes, it must be," said I, with a slight 
 shudder. 
 
 " And yet you do not know what it is." 
 
 *' No ; but I fully know how delightful 
 riches are, so I conclude that not to be able 
 to have all one wants, nor be able even to 
 relieve others, must be very, very dread- 
 ful." 
 
 " Well, don't look so grave, and remem- 
 ber that if, or whenever, the worst trial 
 comes, it is never so bad as we apprehended.
 
 70 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 And now, tell me, is Mrs. Chandos hand- 
 some or not?" 
 
 " Well, I can scarcely say, for her elabo- 
 rate dress and odd manner riveted my at- 
 tention more than her face, but she certainly 
 has a good, fair complexion, fine colour, and 
 not bad eyes; but was she not much dis- 
 figured by the way her hair was dressed ?" 
 
 '' Yes, I suppose so," said Aunt Jane. 
 "She has a first-rate hairdresser for her hair, 
 who does it in the extreme of the fashion, 
 and that extreme is generally particularly un- 
 becoming, for even pretty people cannot stand 
 it. But people in general would think Mrs. 
 Chandos handsome, I should think. She is so 
 fresh and healthy-looking. She has a large 
 smile, though it was put on to order when 
 we were present, yet it had that kind of
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 71 
 
 wide-spreading ripple over her countenance 
 that will light up her eyes, if her mind and 
 disposition should improve ; and she has the 
 advantage of good health, which is a great 
 blessing, and sometimes a great help to a 
 good development of character. Of course, 
 the strong are never so interesting as those 
 who habitually suffer, and yet make the best 
 of their ailments."
 
 72 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 
 
 fTlHE following morning Aunt Jane re- 
 ceived a letter, which, to her great 
 dismay and annoyance, obliged her to pro- 
 ceed at once to London, on some urgent 
 business connected with her late sister's 
 affairs. I was more particularly grieved at 
 losing her so unexpectedly, as my guardian 
 had written to say he was to return in a few 
 days. 
 
 I cried most bitterly at parting, and im-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 73 
 
 plored her to return as soon as possible, as 
 I dreaded the arrival of Mr. Henry Mor- 
 daunt fearfully. She kissed away my tears, 
 and her dear little brown eyes looked so 
 hopefully into mine that I was somewhat 
 comforted. 
 
 Aunt Jane had never been pretty, I heard, 
 but she had the most cheering and hope- 
 giving countenance I ever saw. I ought to 
 have described her, but I knew when they 
 gave me all that foolscap paper I should 
 never write this properly. I have described 
 nothing, only just put down the impression 
 places and people gave my selfish self. 
 
 I think the impression her hopeful face 
 at parting gave me, lasted all that day ; but, 
 alas ! the next morning my guardian arrived, 
 and there was such a look of obstinate
 
 74 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 resolve in his face, and in the decided tones 
 of his harsh voice, that I felt a vague and 
 most depressing dread of some impending 
 misfortune. This was increased when he 
 told Mrs. Mordaunt, in a solemn and signi- 
 ficant tone, that he had something very par- 
 ticular to tell me, and begged for a few 
 minutes' conversation with me in the li- 
 brary. 
 
 ''Oh ! come with me there!" I implored 
 of Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 But he peremptorily refused this ; and 
 she, not understanding my fears, hinted that 
 I had better hear what he had to say. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt was decidedly a weak 
 woman, though really, as well as apparently, 
 good-natured, and I felt more angry with 
 her at that moment than even with Mr.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 75 
 
 Mordaunt ; but I had often observed that 
 he had a wonderful influence over her, which 
 I afterwards attributed to mesmerism. T 
 often remember the exact words of the 
 conversations I had even before that memor- 
 able one with Henry Mordaunt ; but there 
 was something so bewildering in the state- 
 ments he made in that interview, that it now 
 seems like a terrible dream, and I cannot 
 put it into words. 
 
 Yet nothing could be more clear than his 
 statements, or more decisive than his words, 
 looks, and resolutions. The result of it all 
 was that I must either consent to be his 
 wife, and retain for my own exclusive use 
 and disposal Langdale Priory property ; or, 
 in the event of my refusal, I was to lose it 
 all, and become actually penniless.
 
 76 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 He held in his hands the undeniable 
 proofs that my father's elder brother had 
 married the Canadian girl, Rosalie, and she 
 had given birth to a son a few months after 
 her husband's death. But as yet no one 
 knew of this fact, except one person, who 
 was completely in Henry Mordaunt's power, 
 and on whose secrecy he could fully rely. 
 Of course he declared that he loved me so 
 deeply that he could not exist unless I 
 consented to be his wife. He then painted 
 in glowing colours the good I could do if I 
 retained possession of my property and old 
 family place ; and drew an equally vivid 
 picture of what my life would be if I were 
 deprived of all means of subsistence ; for my 
 mother had scarcely any fortune at all. I 
 knew we should not have sufficient to live
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 77 
 
 in the luxury to which she had always been 
 accustonaed. 
 
 He ended by declaring that if I promised 
 to say nothing at all about this to anyone, 
 he would allow me two days for consider- 
 ation ; but without that promise he must at 
 once declare publicly the real state of the 
 case, and give up the property to the real 
 heir, and re-instate him in all his rights. 
 
 " Oh, that I could have seen Aunt Jane !" 
 thought I. Yet there is but one thing for me 
 to do — if my uncle had really married the 
 girl of whom I had already heard, his son 
 must have a right to the property, and what 
 could be more unjust than an attempt to de- 
 prive him of it ? 
 
 Then I gave vent to the anger and in- 
 dignation I felt, and reproached him bitterly
 
 78 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 for his meanness in offering to keep the mat- 
 ter secret. 
 
 The fact was that he had probably not 
 given me credit for sufficient honesty of 
 purpose. He had built upon a want of early 
 training, and expected that I should have 
 no objection to the subterfuge and deceit he 
 intended, in order to save my inheritance. 
 He soon saw the mistake he had made, and 
 I perceived that he dreaded lest I should 
 proclaim to the world the disgraceful con- 
 ditions he had offered in the event of my 
 consenting to be his wife. 
 
 For a moment he seemed staggered, and 
 assumed his old oily and insinuating manner, 
 and looking beseechingly in my eyes, said, 
 
 " Well, your beauty will be my excuse, 
 and the wish to protect my dear friend, your
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 79 
 
 loved father's child, from loss ; and perhaps 
 at some future time, when the world has 
 turned its cold side towards you, and that 
 you have experienced the loss of the Mar- 
 chese Carlo's love, which I am convinced will 
 not last when you become poor — at some 
 future day you may be glad to accept me. 
 For I am rich, richer than you could ever 
 have supposed I should be. The same ship 
 which brought the proof of your loss, 
 brought the news that a mine, in which I 
 had purchased shares many years ago, has 
 become most successful, and at this moment 
 I could easily realize a million." 
 
 '' Your fortune could make no difference 
 to me ; I would much rather starve or sweep 
 the streets," said I, with a proud and defiant 
 look ; at the same moment a vision of the
 
 80 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 often-dreaded poverty gave me a cold shud- 
 der, which I endeavoured to conceal by rush- 
 ing abruptly out of the room. 
 
 I ran to my own apartment, and after 
 locking the door, threw myself on the floor 
 in a paroxysm of despair. Yes, I was most 
 unheroic, I was almost as rebelliously and 
 wickedly miserable as when my dear father 
 died nearly four years before. All the ac- 
 complishments and languages I had learnt 
 since then, the good nun's training, the books 
 I had read, and even the words Aunt Jane 
 had spoken, availed nothing to quiet the re- 
 bellious anger and despair which made me 
 writhe and tear my hair in agony. 
 
 " But, Carlo," I at last thought, " he surely 
 will not desert me ; and why cannot we be 
 happy in Italy, where, if one cannot have
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 81 
 
 luxuries, our real wants are fewer than in 
 England ; and then my voice, so praised b}^ 
 composers — I could go on the stage, as 
 many have done ; and Carlo, even if his father 
 is angry and gave him nothing, he too has a 
 fine voice and could act, when we might still 
 be almost happy. 
 
 As these ideas gradually developed them- 
 selves in my mind, I rose from the floor and 
 went to the window. But alas ! the lovely 
 view over my favourite south gardens — the 
 splendid woods beyond reflected in the clear 
 water; the village cottages or the hill be- 
 yond, surmounted by the beautiful spire of 
 the ancient clmrch; the pretty school my 
 dear father had built, and all the children I 
 had learnt to know, and the old cottagers 
 who talked to me of my father and the old 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 family : all this I must leave for ever. 
 Again I threw myself down in a parox- 
 ysm of despair. Soon, however, a knock 
 atthedoor, and the sound of Mrs. Mordaunt's 
 voice, roused me; and ashamed of being seen 
 in such abject grief, I started up and 
 smoothed my hair and dress. I had more 
 pride, probably, though not more resigna- 
 tion than when I so selfishly shut myself up 
 after my father's death. I could not bear 
 to let Mrs. Mordaunt see how badly I bore 
 this trial. For I concluded that she must 
 have heard of it. But I found that she had 
 not. She only fancied there was some bad 
 news, because Mr. Henry looked so miser- 
 able, she said, when he came back into the 
 drawing-room, and he had asked for a pri- 
 vate interview with her husband. She then
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 83 
 
 looked for me in the garden, as she conclud- 
 ed I had gone to my favourite seat, where 
 the table was generally covered with my 
 books or drawing things. I then tried to 
 describe to her all that had passed, and how 
 it had turned out that I was no heiress at 
 all. I say tried, because poor dear Mrs. 
 Mordaunt was rather stupid and very slow 
 of comprehension, and the whole thing 
 seemed so strange that she could not under- 
 stood it at all. 
 
 "But we rent this place," she said, " and 
 no one can turn us out till you are of age, 
 and surely you can live here with us." 
 
 " It must belong to — to my cousin," said 
 I, with a kind of vague wonder as to what 
 sort of person this cousin, the rightful heir 
 of the old property, was likely to be. For 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 a few minutes the wondering speculations 
 about him distracted my mind from my own 
 misfortune. Would he be like my father, 
 and should I like him so well as to be re- 
 conciled to my loss ? 
 
 " But he cannot love the place nor my 
 dear father's memory as I do," 
 
 " You seem to bear all this with most 
 proper resignation," said Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 But I could not bear to be praised for 
 what I did not deserve, so I confessed what 
 a state of utter and most rebellious despair 
 I had been in. 
 
 *' There is no need for that either," said the 
 dear matter-of-fact woman ; " surely you will 
 have a right to some fortune ; and then this 
 cousin," she said, with a sudden smile, as if 
 surprised at her own brilliant imagining,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 85 
 
 " who knows but this rightful heir, as you 
 call him, will be very handsome, as I hear 
 his father was ; and when he sees you he will 
 certainly fall in love, and then — then you 
 will be mistress of this place after all." 
 
 " Oh ! that is impossible," I declared ; 
 and then I told her for the first time of 
 my engagement to my mother's cousin, 
 Carlo. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, that is a sad misfortune. I 
 don't like foreigners at all. You know it 
 was your dear father's greatest misfortune 
 that he took up with — I mean — of course 
 you cannot help having an Italian mother, 
 but, you know, she took him away from this 
 place, which he loved so much, where his 
 presence was of so much use to all the coun- 
 try round. Yon can't think how he was
 
 86 THE LOST BKIDE. 
 
 looked up to by all parties," she added. 
 " Oh ! it's a sad pity you should have gone 
 and engaged yourself that way, and before 
 you went to school even. I should have 
 thought you must have forgotten each other 
 by this time. Well, to be sure, as the maids 
 say, things will be so contrary; but I really 
 don't seem able to take all this in yet, nor 
 shall I till I see what you call the rightful 
 owner with my very own eyes."
 
 87 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN IRRITABLE MAN. 
 
 "TTTHEN we went downstairs, which I did 
 at Mrs. Mordaunt's request, after 
 looking in the glass to see that no traces of 
 tears were visible, we found Mr. Mordaunt 
 in a towering passion — I mean our Mr. Mor- 
 daunt, for Mr. Henry had just driven off on 
 his return to London. 
 
 This was a great relief to me, for although 
 I was determined to face him, yet I could
 
 88 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 not bear that he should perceive the effect 
 his words had produced, for I could not suc- 
 ceed in appearing like the happy being I 
 had been that very morning. It was also 
 a relief to witness Mr. Mordaunt's extreme 
 anger. He was a good, worthy man in the 
 main, but extremely passionate. 
 
 I had sometimes observed that his anger 
 was a sort of safety-valve, or rather a kind 
 of excitement, that seemed almost necessary 
 to wake up his somewhat sluggish nature. 
 I must do him the justice to say that his bad 
 temper was generally aroused on the side of 
 right, in the cause of the weak or oppressed, 
 but it made him at times a disagreeable com- 
 panion, and had once or twice startled his 
 poor wife into hysterics. 
 
 And now, instead of endeavouring to com-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE* 89 
 
 fort me as poor Mrs. Mordaunt had done, the 
 sight of my pale face seemed to increase his 
 rage. He broke forth into a strain of in- 
 vective against everyone concerned in this 
 extraordinary affair ; and then took up the 
 . defence of each, and showed that under 
 these wonderful circumstances they could 
 scarcely have acted otherwise. Then he 
 drew a vivid and, I afterwards thought, 
 rather exaggerated picture of my wrongs 
 and utterly hopeless condition. 
 
 ** Absolutely penniless I Yes, of course 
 she is, for her mother can have nothing. 
 Those foreign marchesas and popish counts 
 never have a sixpence. And what is she to 
 do, will you allow me to ask you ? And 
 what are we to do? For of course the 
 man, or boy, will want to come here, and
 
 90 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 there is an end of our tenancy. And we can 
 give the girl nothing." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Mordaunt, don't say that !" 
 said his wife, with tears in her eyes. " I 
 am sure she's welcome " 
 
 '^ Welcome to what ? Yes, very well, 
 very well. But you always forget we have 
 nothing beyond our lives. The greater part 
 of our income is the jointure you got from 
 your first husband, which of course dies 
 with you ; and all I have is strictly entailed 
 on my nephew ; and we have never saved a 
 sixpence. On the contrary, when I die, 
 there will be debts — as sure as I am alive 
 there will." 
 
 " Oh ! dear, this is very sad, and " 
 
 " Of course it is. Whichever way you 
 look at it, it's utterly hopeless. Then a girl
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 91 
 
 brought up in luxury, who of course can do 
 nothing even for herself, much less for her 
 mother, thrown on the wide world, and 
 obliged to become a governess, perhaps, as 
 so many poor ladies have in these hard 
 times ; and probably not even fit for that." 
 
 " Oh ! but while we live, Mr. Mordaunt," 
 interposed his wife. 
 
 " While we live, indeed ! And who can 
 ensure our lives even till to-morrow morn- 
 ing? And where is the girl to go then, 
 allow me to ask ?" 
 
 " Why, there's Aunt Jane," suggested 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, with a face of horror at the 
 idea of her own and her husband's certain 
 death before the next morning. 
 
 " Aunt Jane, indeed ! — why, that's still 
 worse. She has only quite a small annuity ;
 
 92 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 and all she saves and contrives to pinch and 
 screw out of it by dressing like a common 
 person, must go to her starving niece, the 
 fool who made the bad match with that 
 Indian scoundrel — more fool she I Then 
 there's the arrears, too. What's to become 
 of all the sums your father has received for 
 all these years ?" 
 
 " Arrears ! What are they ?" I inquired, 
 with sudden dread. 
 
 " Of course you know nothing of business. 
 I was sure you could not. How could a 
 girl brought up in a Popish convent know 
 anything of business ? Yes, miss, there's the 
 arrears ever since your father took posses- 
 sion of the property on his father's death. 
 He would have been made answerable for 
 them had he lived, and now — and now we
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. • 93 
 
 have not yet looked at the worst feature of 
 this — this d d — this unfortunate case." 
 
 He contrived, after a pause, to make a 
 violent effort to find words to substitute for 
 the curses he had been formerly in the habit 
 of using, I was told, before his marriage. 
 
 " We have not yet looked at the worst," 
 he repeated, while his excited countenance 
 seemed to brighten up still more at the idea 
 of an additional grievance ; for he certainly 
 enjoyed his anger, and he perhaps enjoyed 
 it all the more from feeling that his wrath 
 was not excited by any one person in par- 
 ticular, but only against these most adverse 
 circumstances in general. " For, of course, 
 people will blame your father for not having 
 discovered that his brother had married that 
 cur — that Canadian girl. Of course ill-
 
 94 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 natured people will even say that he knew 
 of it all along, and wished deliberately to 
 defraud his eldest brother's son." 
 
 " Oh ! impossible ! " I exclaimed, when 
 the horror of my father being thus blamed 
 seemed worse than anything that could be- 
 fall me, and I sank down on the floor in an 
 agony of grief, which seemed to dry up the 
 sources of my tears. 
 
 " There ! see what you have done," moan- 
 ed poor Mrs. Mordaunt. '' You will kill 
 her ! Really, it is very unfeeling of you to 
 talk to her in that way." 
 
 " I beg pardon," said Mr. Mordaunt, who 
 was really frightened at the effect of his 
 words. " I — I don't mean, my dear young 
 lady — pray don't imagine — I — besides, you 
 are not to blame in any way."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 95 
 
 ** But if my father is, or can be blamed, I 
 shall never be happy again. I — I don't 
 care what becomes of myself. I — could 
 scrub the floors, or anything, but I could 
 not — I will not live a day, if my dear father 
 IS 
 
 '* Ah ! well, now I am really sorry I said 
 such a thing. There, don't think any more 
 about it. I will put your case — your father's 
 case — into the hands of the only honest 
 lawyer there is — for they are such fools — 
 and we will see what can be done. Henry 
 maintains that the best authorities have been 
 consulted, and I suppose he would not have 
 declared the thing unless it was beyond 
 doubt. Still, 1 have a great opinion of 
 Graspem and Snareland, and I'll write. 
 Stay, I'll go up to London the first thing
 
 96 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 to-morrow morning — or, stay, I may not be 
 alive then. Ring the bell, Martha, and I'll 
 order the buggy directly, and I'll drive to 
 the station, and I'll see Graspem this very 
 night, before I go to bed. There — confound 
 the bell 1 — the servants are so slow. I'll go 
 to the stable and order it myself; and, 
 Martha, you see to my carpet-bag." 
 
 ''But you will not go till after dinner?" 
 said Mrs. Mordaunt. ''Remember, you 
 never eat luncheon." 
 
 '' Confound — I mean, never mind the 
 luncheon. I can get something at the 
 station. Where's the 'Bradshaw?' Of course, 
 not to be found ! There, my dear Miss 
 Vivian, cheer up, and don't despair till I 
 come back from London, and till you really 
 know the worst. And mind," he added, as
 
 THE LOST BRTDE. 97 
 
 he saw my look of intense misery — '^ mind, 
 no really sensible or good person can ever 
 blame your father." 
 
 Somewhat consoled by Mr. Mordaunt's 
 kind zeal in my behalf, I sat down to write 
 an account of the whole case to Aunt Jane. 
 I implored her to come and see me, and ad- 
 vise what I was to do in this most perplexing 
 case. But the next morning's post dashed 
 my hopes of seeing her, for a letter came to 
 say she was just starting for Madeira, to at- 
 tend upon her niece, who they feared was 
 dying. 
 
 The letter I had written to her the night 
 before was not yet posted, and now it might 
 be weeks, perhaps months, before it reached 
 her. This was a most fearful addition to 
 my sufferings, for I saw it was most impor- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 tant for me at once to decide on some course 
 of action, and find some means to earn my 
 bread. I must write to my mother and to 
 Carlo ; and oh ! how I shrank from telling 
 him of my poverty ! No, I would not write 
 to him, until I could see some means of gain- 
 ing my own living. I would not be a burden, 
 or — tears blinded my eyes as I thought of 
 this, and I felt quite unequal to write even 
 to my mother. As I sat at the writing-table 
 in my bed-room, utterly unable to do any- 
 thing, I heard a carriage drive up to the 
 door. 
 
 It could not be Mr. Mordaunt, for no train 
 came back from London so early, but I ran 
 to the window of the next room, which look- 
 ed towards the north entrance. It was an 
 open barouche, and I saw two ladies get out.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 99 
 
 I fancied the tallest looked like Mrs. Chandos, 
 and the little one — yes, that pretty fair face 
 and light flowing curls, must be Norah — the 
 little sensible Norah that Aunt Jane was al- 
 ways talking about. 
 
 1 liked her air and her light buoyant step 
 as she ascended the flight of stone steps; and 
 as she paused for a moment to look at the 
 lovely view, and then up at the window, she 
 caught a sight of my face. The smile she 
 gave me was very pleasant, there was some- 
 thing so informal, so genuine in its childlike 
 expression — the kind of smile with which 
 one young playfellow might greet another, 
 expressing the anticipation of sunny hours 
 and all kinds of innocent fun together. Mind, 
 I did not think all this at that moment. I 
 was only wonderfully pleased at meeting 
 
 h2
 
 100 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 with the kind of unconventional greeting I 
 had never seen before, and the impression 
 her whole appearance gave me resolved it- 
 self into the words, "What a contrast to 
 me!" 
 
 She was as fair as I was dark ; her eyes 
 were blue and laughing, while mine were 
 dark and passionate in their intensity; I was 
 tall and fully developed, she was short and 
 slim. The only point we had in common — at 
 least before the unfortunate discovery I 
 had made the day before — was a look of 
 genuine happiness. 
 
 " Then she is happy with her new mother 
 after all," I thought. I longed to see more 
 of her, but I felt, under the strange cloud 
 that now hung over me, it would be awk- 
 ward to appear. So I went back to my
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 101 
 
 room, and tried to read, but could fix my at- 
 tention to nothing. I had a sort of vague 
 hope that she must have felt I should be glad 
 to see her, and I half expected that she 
 would ask Mrs. Mordaunt to send for 
 me. 
 
 I found afterwards that she had, but Mrs. 
 Mordaunt, thinking I should not like to be 
 seen or disturbed, had made some lame kind 
 of excuse about my having heard bad news, 
 and was suffering from a headache. 
 
 When I heard the carriage drive up to 
 the door again, I ran to the same window ; 
 and this time I saw that she purposely 
 looked up, in evident hopes of seeing me. 
 Another still more hopeful smile, a little 
 graceful nod of her pretty head and waving 
 sunny ringlets, while her hand was play-
 
 102 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 fully raised, and her little fingers wafted a 
 childlike, happy greeting. 
 
 "What a little darling!" I thought, as 
 she tripped down the steps ; and then, as 
 the carriage drove off, she turned round and 
 gave me another greeting. I saw that Mrs. 
 Chandos observed this, for she put out her 
 hand, and said something which I feared 
 might be a reproof for the young girl's un- 
 usual demonstrativeness to a stranger.
 
 103 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COULD I BE A GOVERNESS ? 
 
 T WATCHED the carriage till it disap- 
 peared at the turn of the road among 
 the oaks, and then I suddenly remembered 
 that Mrs. Chandos had said they were look- 
 ing out for an Italian governess. "Why 
 should not I inquire whether they would 
 take me?" It seemed the easiest and readi- 
 est plan ; but — I knew nothing of gover- 
 nesses except what I had read about them
 
 104 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 in novels ; and these generally gave a fear- 
 ful picture of the hardships of their lives, 
 and the unkind treatment they met with. 
 Still they were often heroines ; and their 
 stories sometimes ended happily. 
 
 I had never even seen a live governess 
 myself, and had no idea what I might be 
 expected to teach, or how I was to teach at 
 all. Italian ! — well, I could read to the 
 children in that language ; but then as I 
 had never even learnt it myself — I mean 
 that it was my native language — I should 
 find it even more difficult to teach than I 
 should other languages which the good 
 nuns had taught me in the convent. Still, 
 I could but try ; and the attractive figure of 
 that little fairy, Norah, seemed to smoothe 
 many difficulties, so I ran downstairs and
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 105 
 
 disclosed my plan very triumphantly to 
 Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 But the matter-of-fact slowness with which 
 she spoke of the madness and impossibility 
 of my scheme was a sad damper. She 
 declared that it would be a disgrace to the 
 whole family ; that such a thing was never 
 heard of; that Mrs. Chandos might as well 
 propose to engage one of the Duke of 
 
 L 's daughters for her governess, if they 
 
 were poor. And why could I not live with 
 her? 
 
 " Because you know that Mr. Mordaunt 
 said yesterday that it was impossible, for 
 many reasons." 
 
 " But I do not think as he does when he 
 is angry — that we are both to die before the 
 next morning, and leave nothing but debts
 
 106 THE LOST BETDE. 
 
 behind us. You must not attend to what 
 he says when he is in that state of excite- 
 ment." 
 
 " Well, but I should like to do something 
 to be independent," I said, with a feeling 
 of utter depression. For I felt I should not 
 like to live for ever with Mrs. Mordaunt, 
 though she certainly was a very good 
 woman. I then asked her whether Miss 
 Chandos told her that she had seen me at 
 the window ? 
 
 '' Yes," she said ; " and I wondered how 
 you happened to be in that corner room. 
 Mrs. Chandos quite apologised for poor 
 Norah's having taken the liberty to nod to 
 you without having been introduced. It 
 was odd of her," she added, after a pause. 
 " But, do you know, I always thought she
 
 THE LOST BKIDE. 107 
 
 was an odd girl ; and never could quite see 
 why Aunt Jane raved about her so. And 
 she is not accomplished either — she can't 
 play or sing half so well as you ; and she 
 don't draw ; and " 
 
 *' Oh ! but I thought she was quite charm- 
 ing. I never saw a more attractive face, 
 even at that distance." 
 
 '* She's a nice little girl, that's all ; but she 
 
 is not to be compared with Well, never 
 
 mind, but I agree with Mr. Mordaunt about 
 looks, and we both admire quite a different 
 style of beauty." 
 
 It may sound vain, but I knew she meant 
 me, for I sometimes had remarked that she 
 seemed quite absorbed in looking at me ; 
 and now I felt half annoyed because she 
 could not appreciate a style of beauty which
 
 108 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 T admired so much more than I did my 
 own. 
 
 " I always thought you liked Norah Chan- 
 dos. You seemed to ao^ree with what Aunt 
 Jane said of her." 
 
 "Yes, I think she is a good girl, and cer- 
 tainly behaved very well to all her brothers 
 and sisters after her mother's death; but still 
 I thought she was unlike other girls. She 
 was more childish, and yet like an old per- 
 son, too. That odd mixture puzzles me, 
 for I am not clever, like Aunt Jane, and 
 cannot judge of people or character as she 
 does. I only know what I see, and even 
 then one's often deceived. I might be de- 
 ceived in you now, for I never quite know 
 what to think about you. I'm so puzzled, 
 often."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 109 
 
 The post had not yet gone out, so I added 
 a postscript to the letter I had written the 
 evening before to Aunt Jane, and told her 
 of ray having seen Norah from the v^indow, 
 and of my wish to be engaged as governess 
 in that family. She had fortunately given 
 her niece's address in Madeira, but what a 
 weary time I should have to wait for her 
 answer ! 
 
 The next evening Mr. Mordaunt returned 
 from London, and we saw at once, by his 
 face, that he had no good news to tell. We 
 perceived that he was still angry, because, 
 instead of greeting us with his usual some- 
 what formal civility, he found fault with the 
 footman for having let the drawing-room fire 
 out. He was a very chilly man, and al- 
 though it was Summer, there was always a
 
 110 . THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 fire in the evenings in the large north draw- 
 ing-room where we sat. 
 
 " Dined, I suppose ? Oh ! never mind. 
 I had a tough cutlet and some infernal sherry 
 at the station." 
 
 In vain Mrs. Mordaunt suggested that a 
 good dinner could be ready in five minutes, 
 and that she was sure he ought to have some 
 after the long railroad journey. He sharply 
 refused, and continued resolutely to spread 
 out his thin hands over the fire, which he 
 declared obstinately refused to burn. 
 
 " Did you see your nephew, Sir Alfred 
 Rivers ?" inquired Mrs. Mordaunt, who pro- 
 bably did not wish to question him about the 
 important business. 
 
 " No, of course not. How could I have 
 had time to call anywhere ?"
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. Ill 
 
 "No ; but I thought you might have met 
 him at your club." 
 
 " Oh ! dear, no. Sir Alfred is sure to have 
 too many engagements at this gay season. 
 You know he is quite the fashion, and all 
 the silly women in London are making up 
 to him, and spoil the boy quite, they will. 
 He will never be good for a country life 
 after it all." 
 
 "Oh! if he finds a good wife he may," 
 suggested Mrs. Mordaunt. " And I'm sure 
 I hope he will, for he is so clever and hand- 
 some, and good too. I hope " 
 
 " I heard of him at Crockford's," said Mr. 
 Mordaunt, with increased gravity. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, this is a misfortund !" 
 
 " Yes, of course it is ; but what can one 
 expect now-a-days, when gambling is actu-
 
 112 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 ally made respectable ? I mean when 
 splendid rooms are built, and titled men are 
 the first who openly frequent the confound- 
 ed gambling tables." 
 
 I listened with some interest to these re- 
 marks, because Aunt Jane had sometimes 
 talked with them about this nephew, and 
 she had praised his fine nature and brilliant 
 qualities. 
 
 At last Mr. Mordaunt looked at me with a 
 kind of compassionate interest, which he 
 seemed to be angrily trying to conceal ; for 
 he never could bear to show his good or 
 kind feelings. 
 
 " Well, miss, nothing can be worse. 
 Graspem has seen the marriage certificate, 
 and the register of baptism of the son of 
 Henry Mordaunt Vivian, dated February
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 113 
 
 10, 18 — . And the young man is expected 
 in the next steamer — always lived in the 
 backwoods, or some such outlandish place 
 — had no education, I suppose. A pretty 
 mess he'll make here — bring a black woman, 
 probably, and several negro children. 
 Whatever will this old place, these fine 
 rooms, be to all those savages, will you al- 
 low me to ask you?" 
 
 I then ventured to disclose my plan of 
 going out as governess to him. 
 
 " Well done, my dear young lady ! — and 
 serve them all right, too. A fine, handsome 
 young lady turned out of house and home — 
 one of the oldest, I may say the oldest family 
 in the county, obliged to engage herself as 
 governess ! No, no ; of course that is im- 
 possible, as long as my wife and I live ; only 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 mind, we can do nothing for you after Jfje 
 die. No, no, pray do not talk of the gover- 
 ness plan any more." 
 
 I saw it would be useless then, but I did 
 not give up my idea, and only hoped that 
 perhaps Mrs. Chandos, when she heard of 
 the misfortune which must banish the Mor- 
 daunts as well as myself from the Priory, 
 would call again ; and then I determined to 
 see her and offer myself to her as governess.
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NEWS FROM CARLO AT LAST. 
 
 TT was Carlo's turn to write, for I had re- 
 ceived no letter since the one I wrote 
 soon after my arrival at Langdale Priory, 
 and I anxiously expected to hear from him 
 every day. None came, and a week passed 
 before Mr. Mordaunt heard anything more 
 from my guardian, who had told him that 
 he need form no plans for leaving the Priory 
 till the new Mr. Vivian should arrive from 
 
 i2
 
 116 THE LOST BRIDE. / 
 
 America. He had told him, when they met 
 at Graspem's in London, that it was just pos- 
 sible Mr. Vivian might be willing to let the 
 place for a time, though he fancied not at so 
 low a rent as he now paid. 
 
 '''' And we cannot afford to give a farthing 
 more, so there's an end of it," moaned Mr, 
 Mordaunt ; " so you had better pack up and 
 be ready to start at a moment's notice." 
 
 Another week passed, and brought no 
 letter from Carlo, and no news from Mr. 
 Henry or Mr. Vivian. I began to be very 
 anxious about Carlo, but, on the other hand, 
 the delay of Mr. Vivian's arrival inspired 
 me with a vague hope that something might 
 occur to — no, that would be impossible, I 
 well knew, but I felt such a yearning affec- 
 tion for every tree and knoll in this beauti-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 117 
 
 ful old place, that it seemed almost impos- 
 sible I could be torn from it. 
 
 At the end of that week, the post brought 
 me a letter from Carlo, and I ran up to my 
 room and read it alone. It was much shorter 
 than usual, but he excused himself for its 
 brevity by saying that he was night and day 
 in attendance upon his father, who had been 
 dangerously ill. He expressed much plea- 
 sure to hear that I found Langdale Abbey 
 such an enchanting place ; but yet the letter 
 was cold — there was not a word about our 
 future meeting ; and the impression it pro- 
 duced on a second reading was worse, and 
 formed itself into the fatal words, " He does 
 not now care for me." 
 
 Or could he have been jealous of my 
 evident enthusiasm for this place ? Could
 
 118 THE LOST BKIDE. 
 
 he have discovered what I had almost re- 
 proached myself for feeling at one moment, 
 that I loved this place almost better than 
 him ? If so, I deserve to lose his love, 
 thought I ; but still, now that I had lost the 
 place, how sad to lose his love as well ! 
 And he could not possibly have heard of my 
 loss, I thought. It did not seem to be gene- 
 rally known even here. How much less 
 could the news have reached the south of 
 Italy ! 
 
 There seemed now no end to my troubles. 
 At that time I had very little religion, as 
 will be imagined by those who read this 
 story of my life. When happy, I enjoy- 
 ed a kind of vague trust in God's mercy ; 
 and also perhaps I felt some degree of 
 gratitude, but I did not think upon His
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 119 
 
 laws, nor endeavour to bring His precepts 
 into the daily concerns of my life ; conse- 
 quently I was utterly depressed, or despair- 
 ingly miserable, at the disappointments I 
 met with. The apparent coldness of Car- 
 lo's letter was a bitter disappointment, 
 particularly to one like myself, who, as I 
 afterwards discovered, had such an ardent 
 craving to be loved as I possess. 
 
 Ah I it was this violent wish to be loved 
 that entailed all my misfortunes ; and now 
 that I began to doubt of Carlo's, 1 longed 
 for the love, the real friendship of that 
 attractive girl, Norah. And she had seemed 
 disposed to like me. I saw it in her face ; 
 and I felt that I should really like to live 
 in the same house with her, even as gover- 
 ness to her sisters. Oh ! if I could but see
 
 120 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 her, and talk to her about this plan of 
 mine ! 
 
 So far my wishes to see her were soon 
 destined to be realized, for that very after- 
 noon I heard the sound of carriage wheels, 
 and, running into the next room, I saw the 
 same carriage drive up to the door. Again 
 Norah looked up, and this time her ener- 
 getic greeting was mingled with a kind of 
 mournful compassion, or rather, veneration, 
 and she seemed as if her former playful 
 recognition was exchanged for a look of 
 serious longing to be of use. So I construed 
 it, and felt sure they had heard of my 
 misfortune. 
 
 Mrs. Chandos also looked up, and gave a 
 kind of hesitating bow, which she seemed 
 endeavouring to make according to her
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 121 
 
 usual formal pattern. Exactly what I 
 wished now happened, for after a few mo- 
 ments, in which I was revolving in my mind 
 how I could see Norah alone, I heard Mrs. 
 Mordaunt's step in the passage, accompanied 
 by a light, buoyant tread, which I was sure 
 was Norah's. 
 
 I ran to the door, and found her full of 
 tears and smiles, and, with outstretched 
 hands, she said, . 
 
 " It is so good of Mrs. Mordaunt to let 
 me come up to your room." 
 
 To Mrs. Mordaunt's infinite surprise, I 
 rushed into Norah's arms, and kissed both 
 her cheeks. Then I held her shoulders, and 
 looked into her face, and fully enjoyed its 
 kind, and cheering, and loving expression. 
 
 Then Mrs. Mordaunt left us, and we had
 
 122 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 a long and delightful talk. In that hour I 
 told her everything — my engagement to 
 Carlo, my adoration for this place and my 
 father's memory, my disappointment in 
 Carlo, and my wish to be independent, and, 
 above all, to live with her, if possible. 
 
 '* It will be difficult, I fear," she said, 
 after a long pause. *'I am only just be- 
 ginning to understand my step-mother, and 
 she me. I am in hopes that there is more good 
 in her than I thought there was at first. I 
 was, oh ! so miserable, for I feared she cared 
 for nothing but dress and show, and the 
 things riches could procure. For I am not 
 clever, you know — I can't read characters as 
 Aunt Jane does." 
 
 It seemed like the next moment only, 
 although we had told each other so much.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 123 
 
 when Mrs. Mordaunt returned to say that 
 Mrs. Chandos was obliged to go now, and 
 must take Norah away; but we were all to go 
 over and lunch at Chandos Mount the next 
 day. 
 
 " That is, if we are all still here ; for Mr. 
 Mordaunt says it is useless to make any en- 
 gagement, when we may be obliged to leave 
 this very evening." 
 
 This well-timed visit of Norah's had been 
 of great use, but there was a sad re-action 
 after she was gone, when I read Carlo's letter 
 again. There was not much in the words 
 themselves to make me doubt his love, and 
 I could scarcely account for the feeling of 
 disappointment, which seemed almost like 
 despair. It seemed so hard that I should 
 lose his love just at this moment, when I
 
 124 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 was deprived of my father's beautiful place, 
 and all the fortune I had valued so highly. 
 
 Strange that I had always dreaded poverty 
 so much, and perhaps over-valued splendour 
 and luxury, and all that riches could com- 
 mand. And now I was poor and unloved. 
 What could I do? I could have been al- 
 most happy without marrying Carlo — I mean 
 that I could have given up the engagement 
 rather than entail my poverty on him, but I 
 could not bear to lose his love. No, if he 
 became ever so rich, I would not marry him 
 if I doubted of his love, as that letter had 
 made me doubt. Could he have heard of 
 it? Could that horrible Henry Mordaunt 
 have written to tell him of it ? Oh ! no. 
 Had Carlo heard of my poverty, that would 
 certainly not make him cease to love me !
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 125 
 
 Yet Mr. Henry had said it would. In 
 that dreadful interview he warned me that 
 Carlo would not fulfil the enoraorement if he 
 
 o o 
 
 knew I was poor. Then I resolved to 
 write and tell him the exact truth, and re- 
 lease him from the engagement, if he ceased 
 to care for me; at all events he was free. 
 
 I wrote a number of letters, and tore 
 them up one after another. At last I suc- 
 ceeded in writing one which I determined 
 to send, without reading it over again, 
 though I knew it did not express half that I 
 wanted to say.
 
 126 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 PERVERSENESS. 
 
 A FEW days after I sent my letter to 
 Carlo, the long-dreaded event oc- 
 curred. A special messenger arrived to in- 
 form Mr. Mordaunt that Mr. Vivian was in 
 London, and intended to come and take 
 possession of Langdale Priory. The mes- 
 senger also brought a letter from Mr. 
 Graspem, which, with many murmuring 
 and angry speeches, Mr. Mordaunt showed 
 me.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 127 
 
 " I suppose you won't understand it ? 
 Women never can comprehend lawyers' 
 letters, or anything about business — of 
 course you can't ; and this is a most con- 
 founded and infernal — beg your pardon, 
 but it is the worst piece of business I ever 
 came across. I see you don't understand 
 it. Well, I commissioned Graspeni to do 
 all he could for you, and, you see, he gives 
 some hope that you and your mother will 
 obtain a small income." 
 
 " But if we have no right to any, how 
 can Mr. Graspem do this ? " 
 
 " Because, as widow, she must be entitled 
 to some provision or jointure ; and though, 
 you see, he says that he does not like the 
 looks of Mr. Vivian, and has no opinion of 
 his man of business, who came with him to
 
 128 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 England, still, something must be done ; 
 and Mr. Henry Mordaunt is also most anxi- 
 ous that a suitable arrangement should be 
 made for both you and your mother." 
 
 "We will take nothing from him, I am 
 determined," I replied, with proud defi- 
 ance. 
 
 " Of course not, my dear young lady — not 
 from him, no ; but you and your mother 
 are fairly, in common justice, entitled to a 
 settlement. It must — it shall be ; and if 
 Graspem does not secure it for you, I give 
 him up." 
 
 I found that Mrs. Chandos (at Norah's 
 suggestion, I concluded) had made Mrs. 
 Mordaunt promise that we should all go 
 there for a few days whenever we left the 
 Priory — in fact, they wished us to stay at
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 129 
 
 Chandos Mount until Mr. Mordaunt liad 
 found a house to suit him either in London 
 or some other place. 
 
 This plan, and my sudden affection for 
 Norah, somewhat mitigated the pang of 
 leaving my own beautiful home ; yet still I 
 felt most miserable, and as we drove away 
 through the lovely park, I thought I could 
 never be happy again. I could not even 
 cry ; a sort of dull despair seemed for the 
 present time to numb all ray faculties. 
 
 ^ Since Carlo no longer cared for me, and 
 I was destined never to see my father's 
 loved home again, I seemed to have lost 
 all interest in life. Even the cheering 
 affection of Norah, and Mrs. Chandos's 
 elaborate attempt to do the right thing to- 
 wards me, failed to revive my spirits, and I 
 
 VOL. 1. K
 
 130 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 scarcely remarked her shortcomings or vul- 
 garities. 
 
 As long as we had remained at the 
 Priory, I suppose I never fully realised that 
 I had lost it, and I only now began to lose 
 all hope, and understand the full extent of 
 the misfortune ; so I wasted those few days 
 when, had I been less stupidly absorbed in 
 my selfish misery, the pure and soothing 
 words and looks of Norah would have done 
 me infinite good. However, the after-im- 
 pressions they made were not lost, for long 
 afterwards they returned, like the recollec- 
 tion of some pleasant dream. 
 
 But I was thus getting hardened and 
 utterly insensible to any good influence. Mr. 
 Mordaunt did not accompany us to Chandos 
 Mount, but went straight to London, to look
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 1 3 1 
 
 for a house, and see what Graspem was doing 
 about ray aiFairs. 
 
 At the end of a week he arrived, and in- 
 formed me that an arrangement had been 
 made ; and that in fact, he said, " you are of 
 course entitled to the small pittance of a 
 hundred a year, and your mother will have 
 two hundred a year paid to her regularly as 
 long as she lives. So now, you see, my dear 
 young lady, you will at any rate be inde- 
 pendent, and can either live with your 
 mother or with us, which we should much 
 prefer. In fact, our cousin Lady Horatia 
 Somerton, who saw you at your convent in 
 Paris, has set her heart on taking you out in 
 London." 
 
 "Lady Horatia Somerton ; oh, I remem- 
 ber — handsome, tall, and dark. Ah, yes, she 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE LOST RRIDE. 
 
 did seem to like or admire me, now I re- 
 member." 
 
 " Yes, and she says you would be quite 
 the reigning beauty if she were to introduce 
 you ; so you really can't do better, and then 
 3^ou will marry some rich man of high rank, 
 and get perhaps a finer place of your own 
 than the Priory after all." 
 
 *' And Carlo ! " I thought, as the vision 
 of possible splendour rose before me. 
 
 " Well, if Carlo really does not care for 
 me, it may be well to show him that others 
 do, and now I should be loved for myself 
 alone." 
 
 I had confessed to Norah my affection for 
 Carlo, but I did not breathe a word of this 
 new ambitious thought and wish into her 
 ears. I was silent and reserved during the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 133 
 
 remainder of the visit, and she saw that she 
 had less power to amuse or cheer me than 
 before my uncle's return, although she knew 
 that he brought comparatively good news. 
 But I instinctively felt that she was too pure 
 and good to understand, or rather to tolerate, 
 the evil and ambitious feelings which seemed 
 to have corrupted my nature, and I shrank 
 from the pure, lovely expression of her 
 eyes. 
 
 And so the last hour arrived, and all her 
 dear kind efforts to make me speak or tell 
 her my real thoughts or feelings were un- 
 availing. 
 
 " But you will write to me," she said, 
 " will you not? — and pray tell me sometimes 
 your real thoughts ; won't you ? Oh, if you 
 could but see Aunt Jane, I am sure she
 
 134 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 would do you good, for you do want some 
 good." 
 
 *' That I do indeed, but I feel so wicked 
 that even Aunt Jane could have no influence 
 over me." 
 
 " Oh, yes, she could and so could I ; now 
 that you feel conscious of not thinking quite 
 right." 
 
 I shook my head, but I kissed her with 
 real affection, and the first tears I had shed 
 since I left the Priory left the traces on her 
 pretty cheeks. And she wept too, not, as 
 she often told me, so much from grief at my 
 departure, as for joy at seeing that I was at 
 last touched, and my prideful, rebellious feel- 
 ings were softened. 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt had not yet found a house 
 to suit them, so we were going on a visit to
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 135 
 
 our cousin, Lady Horatia ; and she was 
 going to give a grand ball the following 
 week. 
 
 She had married two daughters very suc- 
 cessfully, Mr. Mordaunt told me ; and now 
 she had only one left, who was not yet out. 
 Lady Horatia Somerton was said to be 
 very worldly, but I believe it was only be- 
 cause she fully enjoyed the world, and more 
 particularly the London world, the peculiar- 
 ly exclusive world of London society in those 
 days. 
 
 I mean that she was apparently devoid of 
 the meanness which generally accompanies 
 and is a part of worldliness. She fully 
 enjoyed agreeable society ; she liked to be 
 admired, and, above all, she liked to be 
 successful — to have the pleasantest people,
 
 136 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 without caring much whether they were 
 either rich or titled, — to pass through life 
 on the agreeable wings of pleasant com- 
 panionship, and to hover above the realities 
 and cares of existence, without being dis- 
 tressed much by anything. She had suf- 
 ficient feeling to take a kindly interest in the 
 concerns of her friends and acquaintances, 
 without sharing their deeper sorrows. She 
 had a fair share of beauty, with fair health 
 and an even temper ; and was full of all the 
 qualities of a good chaperon, for she was 
 never tired, and seldom bored. 
 
 But there were not so many bores ad- 
 mitted into the exclusive society of those 
 days as there have been since. In fact, 
 London society may well be described in 
 Lord Houghton's description of "Miss Berry's
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 137 
 
 Parties," where 
 
 " None were sad, and few were dull." 
 
 And where 
 
 " No taunt or scoff obscured the wit, 
 That there rejoiced to reign ; 
 They never could have laughed at it, 
 If it had carried pain. 
 
 " There needless scandal, e'en though true, 
 Provoked no bitter smile, 
 And even men of fashion grew 
 Benignant for awhile." 
 
 I had never been in London before (for 
 it was already night when we passed through 
 on our way from Folkestone to the Priory), 
 and all the dingy and miserable looks of the 
 suburbs, the straight rows of melancholy 
 streets, made me very sad. A kind of list- 
 less ill-humour was added to my mood of 
 rebellious despair, as we drove up to Lady 
 Horatia's house in Cavendish Square. She
 
 138 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 was not at home, but we were shown up 
 into the drawing-room, which was full of 
 good pictures, and old china, and curiosities, 
 and had an air of refinement and good taste, 
 which somewhat revived my spirits. 
 
 We had scarcely time to look at the pic- 
 tures by my favourite old artists, before 
 Lady Horatia came home ; and there was 
 something in the tone of her voice, and the 
 hearty greeting she gave us, that revived me 
 still more. After kissing me, with an ap- 
 proving nod, she led me to the window, and 
 then scanned me from head to foot, as if I 
 were a picture. 
 
 " Delightful !" was her exclamation, after 
 a long pause. " She will make the greatest 
 sensation anyone has made since the little 
 Bramham girl. She shall — she must go with
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 139 
 
 me to the Duke of D 's ball to-morrow 
 
 night. Yes ; don't say a word. I'll write 
 a note this moment, and say I shall bring 
 you. And now about your dress. Ah ! I 
 thought you would have none that would 
 do. I will see to that, and consult with 
 Adele. Now take off your bonnet, and let 
 me look at your hair. Splendid ! Of course 
 you dress it yourself? Yes, stick to that ; 
 never let anyone touch that hair of yours, 
 because I see by your eyes you have good 
 taste and originality. Now you only want 
 one thing to make you perfect." 
 
 " What is that ? " I asked, with some 
 curiosity. 
 
 '' What you had by nature, but have 
 lately lost — happiness. Of course you can- 
 not get over your misfortunes all at once ;
 
 140 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 but you must remember that it is well 
 known, and you will be pointed out as the 
 great heiress who lost all her fortune, and 
 therefore (don't interrupt me) you must 
 show people that you are above minding 
 it." Then, turning to Mrs. Mordaunt, she 
 said, " It would have been too much — that 
 beauty with a fortune besides. She will 
 have endless offers ; and will have the satis- 
 faction that she is loved for herself alone.'' 
 
 I scarcely knew whether to be pleased 
 or affronted at her observations ; but there 
 was something in the genial expression of 
 her face and melodious sound of her voice 
 that cheered me in spite of myself, and I 
 felt that I ought to be pleased at the notice 
 and the interest she seemed so causelessly 
 and unexpectedly to have taken in me.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 141 
 
 For I had heard that the Duke of D 's 
 
 parties were considered the best in London. 
 Norah told rae that, as a great favour, she 
 had been taken to one by her aunt early in 
 the season, and she knew numbers of people 
 who were dying to get invitations, and had 
 no chance ; therefore it was certainly very 
 kind of Lady Horatia to take me there. 
 Still I made some objection. I had never 
 been at any ball, and never seen any other 
 dancing than the girls in the convent with 
 our dancing-master. 
 
 " Very glad you have not — it will be all 
 the more new and enjoyable for you." And 
 she clapped her hands with glee.
 
 142 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MY FIRST BALL. 
 
 A FTER dinner there was a grand consul- 
 tation about my dress, and Lady 
 Horatia Somerton's little daughter, Letitia, 
 came in to assist at it. She was not at all 
 pretty, but she had such a pleasant abord 
 and graceful movements, that I felt quite 
 attracted towards her ; and then she evi- 
 dently admired me, and entered most warm- 
 ly into the details of my intended toilette. 
 She was about twelve years old, and though
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 143 
 
 she was, I heard, the plainest of Lady 
 Horatia's daughters, was decidedly her 
 favourite. 
 
 '* I shall never bring myself to part with 
 little ' Ugly ;' and if any man should ever 
 fall in love with such a plain girl, he must 
 submit to live with me," said she, as little 
 " Ugly " (as she often called her) went up- 
 stairs to fetch a wreath of red camellias, 
 which they wanted to try on my head. 
 
 She soon tripped back with it on her 
 own head, and dancing a pas de zephyr 
 along the room, took it gracefully off, and 
 placed it on mine. Then she danced round 
 me, mimicking, as her mother said, the 
 famous opera-dancers of those days. I had 
 never seen such beautiful dancing before. 
 I asked with some alarm whether I should
 
 144 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 be expected to do such beautiful steps at 
 the ball. 
 
 " No, quite the reverse, for good dancing 
 is going out of fashion. People appear to 
 walk through quadrilles, and there is no 
 animation except in the waltz. Now get 
 away, little Brownie, and let me arrange the 
 wreath in her hair. Isn't she so like one 
 of those little fairies Croften Croker calls 
 Brownies in his Irish fairy legends, with her 
 little brown face and malicious eyes ? What 
 a complexion the child has 1 yet it makes a 
 foil for your dazzling white skin. How 
 came you to preserve such a fair complexion 
 all through the fifteen Summer suns of 
 Italy that shone upon you ? Yet you have 
 Italian eyes, and the old Grecian type of 
 nose. There, the camellias suit admirably ;
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 145 
 
 and look, Brownie, she is instinctively fol- 
 lowing the directions given in the last 
 number of Le Follet — ^ With this style of 
 head-dress the mouth should be worn partly 
 open ! ' Now. don't shut your mouth up on 
 purpose ; give the natural play to your lips ; 
 there is no occasion for you to say ^ plum/ 
 
 as the beautiful Duchess of R did when 
 
 she came into a room." 
 
 They decided that my dress should be 
 plain white tarlatane over muslin, looped 
 up here and there with red camellias. 
 
 " Nothing expensive ; you need never 
 dress expensively, my dear Miss Vivian." 
 
 " I am glad of that, for I have no idea 
 how far the hundred a year they say I am 
 to have will go, and I must contrive soon to 
 go and live with my mother at Sorrento. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 She will want me, now that she will not 
 be able to have so many comforts and 
 luxuries." 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear," said Lady 
 Horatia, " she will be much better pleased 
 that you should see a little of the world, 
 and take the place you ought to liave as 
 your father's daughter in London society. 
 You know that your dear father was a very 
 old friend of mine, and that was why I came 
 to see you at the convent in Paris. I es- 
 teemed — in fact, I really loved your father 
 very much ; and you are like him, so that it 
 gives me real pleasure to do what I know 
 he would approve of, and I shall not let you 
 run away before I have launched you forth 
 in the great world." 
 
 " Then you do not think that anyone
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 147 
 
 supposes ni}'' father was to blame for not 
 discovering this heir — that his brother had 
 left a son ?" 
 
 "Perhaps they do, and therefore I am 
 more anxious that you should become the 
 fashion. Ah ! I have stirred up your spirit 
 now ; I see by your eyes I've found out the 
 handle by which I may move you." 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt would not go out at all in 
 the world, and Mr, Mordaunt was happier 
 at his club than anywhere else ; but they 
 both inspected me after I was dressed the 
 next evening, and expressed much pleasure, 
 and approval of my appearance. 
 
 Lady Horatia was very becomingly attir- 
 ed, but she said she was not reckoned a good 
 dresser, and was often abused for wearing 
 shabby old things. 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE LOST BKIDE. 
 
 " But the fact is I never bestowed suffi- 
 cient time or money on it ; but don't think I 
 despise good dressers — on the contrary, I 
 
 agree with my friend Lady S- , that it is 
 
 often well to cultivate a taste for frivolity, 
 and also the wish to please, which ought to 
 be the actuating motive to dress well. Now, 
 there is the carriage, and we had better start, 
 that we may avoid a long string, and have 
 a little chat with the Duke before the crowd 
 arrives. So we drove off, and soon entered 
 
 the great gates of D- House. But a 
 
 number of people had already arrived, and 
 were going up the staircase between what 
 appeared like banks of beautiful plants. 
 The smell of orange flowers, and other 
 exotics, recalled the scenery of Sorrento 
 and Carlo's face so vividly to my mind that
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 149 
 
 I became quite faint, and so deadly pale 
 that Lady Horatia asked if I was ill. 
 
 " Oh ! no," I said, as my pride became 
 excited at the conviction that Carlo no 
 longer cared for me. *' Oh ! no, it was 
 only the smell of those flowers — they are so 
 powerful." 
 
 "Ah ! yes. I knew an Italian lady who 
 always fainted even at the smell of a rose. 
 Come on, we will pass by those people, and 
 hurry on to the drawing-room. That's 
 right, you have got your colour again ; and 
 more beautiful than ever." 
 
 Everybody seemed to know Lady Horatia, 
 and tried to speak to her ; but she only 
 gave a smile or nod as she passed quickly 
 by them ; and we soon found ourselves in 
 the ball-room, where she pointed cut the
 
 150 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 Duke at the farther end. As we walked 
 quickly across the open space, I could 
 not help seeing a number of eyes and 
 glasses levelled towards us ; and as we 
 approached the Duke, the surrounding 
 group was gazing at me with wondering 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Here is the daughter of your old 
 friend," said Lady Horatia, as she shook 
 hands with him. " I knew you would be 
 glad to see her." 
 
 " I am indeed ; and most grateful to you 
 for bringing her. I hope this is your first 
 ball," he added, as he took my hand, and 
 looked with a kindly and respectful curiosity 
 in ray face. " She is like him ; but more 
 like her mother, who, I well remember, 
 was a great beauty. Now the dancing is
 
 THE LOST BKIUE. 151 
 
 going to begin, and I will introduce you 
 to — " and he looked round for a minute, as 
 if to seek for some one, then said, " Where's 
 Dalton ? — ha ! he's engaged. Here, Wood- 
 ford, I want to introduce you to Miss 
 Vivian." 
 
 Lord Woodford was rather handsome, 
 but I did not like the expression of his 
 eyes, nor what I thought was the conceited 
 and dictatorial tone of his voice in whicli he 
 asked, 
 
 " Where's Dalton ? He must be our vis-a- 
 vis in the quadrille. Your first ball, is it ?" 
 he inquired, as he looked round and scanned 
 me from head to foot, with an expression 
 which implied a great compliment, but did 
 not please me so much as the res])ectful 
 admiration of the Duke's kindly gaze.
 
 152 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 *' And how came you to be under the wing 
 of that great lady ?" 
 
 *^ What great lady ?" I stupidly asked. 
 
 "Why, Lady Horatia Somerton, to be 
 sure. Are you so very new that you did 
 not know that she is almost the greatest lady 
 in London?" 
 
 " I only knew that she was an old friend 
 of my father's, and that she is very kind to 
 me. 
 
 " Yes, she is the fashion now, and that is 
 a thing," he added, rather dogmatically, 
 " that no rank, nor beauty, nor riches will 
 ensure." 
 
 Now Lady Horatia was only an earl's 
 daughter, of not a very old family ; and her 
 husband was only a country squire of ave- 
 rage fortune.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 153 
 
 ** I suppose, then, merit and goodness 
 caused her popularity ?" 
 
 " Far from it, Miss Vivian — rather the 
 reverse, in some cases, though not in Lady 
 Horatia's, for she is beyond reproach." 
 
 He continued to give a long disquisition 
 on the ingredients requisite to become 
 *^ the fashion," but my attention was arrest- 
 ed by one of the dancers in our quadrille, 
 a tall, handsome man, whose face reminded 
 me of something I had seen in the sunny 
 south. I strove in vain to remember where 
 or what it was. I fancied that he was also 
 looking at me with a puzzled expression, as 
 if I produced exactly the same mysterious 
 recollection in him. 
 
 "You are not listening to what I say, I 
 perceive, Miss Vivian. Are you, too, falling
 
 154 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 in love with the Apollo of Beaudesert, for I 
 see he has been looking at you ever since 
 we began dancing." 
 
 "The Apollo of Beaudesert ! — why is he 
 so called, and what is his real name ?*' 
 
 "Ah! I see I am right, then ; but have 
 you met him before ?" 
 
 " I cannot yet make out ; he reminds me 
 so of something long, long ago. But who 
 is he ?" 
 
 "One of the greatest ^aW?:^ of the day — 
 Sir Alfred Rivers." 
 
 "Ah ! then I have heard something about 
 him from my cousin, Mr. Mordaunt — his 
 uncle, I think. But that is not what his 
 face reminds me of." 
 
 " I'll do the good-natured thing, and in- 
 troduce you to each other when the dance
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 155 
 
 is over. Mind, it is very disinterested of 
 ine, for I might have monopolized the new 
 beauty a little longer," he added, with a 
 kind of mocking bow, which I did not like. 
 But his good-natured plan was not destined 
 to be carried out, for Sir Alfred and his 
 partner disappeared so quickly at the end 
 of the quadrille that he seemed quite lost 
 in the crowd. '' Well, never mind ; he will 
 be sure to be heard of in the course of the 
 evening." 
 
 I could not help feeling disappointed, for 
 there was something wonderfully attractive 
 in his whole appearance, and he is — yes, he 
 is even handsomer than Carlo, who had 
 hitherto been my beau-ideal of perfection. 
 I was introduced to several other partners, 
 and danced incessantly ; but I looked about
 
 156 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 in vain for the only person I wished to see, 
 and there was nothing particularly attractive 
 in any of my partners. 
 
 During one of the short intervals between 
 the dances, when I was near Lady Horatia, 
 she whispered to me — 
 
 " Well, my dear, it has been a great suc- 
 cess, even beyond my anticipation, for real 
 beauty is not always appreciated at first. 
 But how is this? — you don't look as if you 
 fully enjoyed your triumph." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I really do enjoy the ball 
 immensely," said I ; and at that moment I 
 saw Sir Alfred coming towards us. 
 
 *' Ah ! you have not yet been introduced, 
 I see, to Miss Vivian," said Lady Horatia, 
 as Sir Alfred shook hands with her ; " and 
 yet she must be a kind of relation of yours."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 157 
 
 ^' I was just going to ask you to introduce 
 me," said Sir Alfred, with a voice which 
 seemed to remind me of some great happi- 
 ness. "And I think," he added, " we must 
 have met before, though I have tried in 
 vain to remember where." 
 
 The waltz was just beginning, and he led 
 me into the circle without formally asking 
 me to dance. 
 
 His waltzing was quite different from that 
 of all the others I had danced with that 
 evening, and it seemed to transport me 
 suddenly into a blissful and unknown world. 
 When, at last, we stopped, he said, 
 
 " Yes, we must have met before, but it 
 must have been in some happier world than 
 this has hitherto been to me. I was certain 
 of it the moment I saw you dancing in the
 
 158 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 first quadrille with Lord Woodford. I hope 
 you wondered why I disappeared so suddenly 
 at the end, instead of asking for an introduc- 
 tion to you. Ah ! I am glad to see you did. 
 The fact was, my cousin, with whom I was 
 dancing, was very ill, and wanted to return 
 home as soon as possible, so I ran to get her 
 carriage ; and when at last I succeeded in 
 getting it, ray unreasonable aunt begged me 
 to see my poor cousin home in it, as the 
 other sister could not bear to lose the ball. 
 So I sacrificed myself, and did the good- 
 natured thing, and am only just returned, 
 for they live miles off. But I am rewarded 
 for it all by this," he added, as we again 
 whirled, or rather hovered — for we did not 
 seem to touch the ground — round the room, 
 and under the wreaths of fresh roses which
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 159 
 
 shielded the lights from the dancers' eyes, 
 without diminishing the brilliancy of the 
 illumination. 
 
 When the dance was over he took me 
 through the picture-gallery, which I had not 
 yet seen. I had not seen many very good 
 pictures. In the old palaces in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Sorrento but few of the ancient 
 collections still remained, and my delight at 
 seeing those he particularly pointed out to 
 me was extreme. And the account he gave 
 me of some of them, in the rich tones of his 
 wonderful voice, seemed to open a new world 
 of enchantment to my fascinated gaze. Then 
 he took me into the conservatory, which 
 was filled with the finest and most fra^ant 
 flowers I had ever seen. 
 
 " Were you ever at Pompeii ?" he sud-
 
 160 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 denly asked, and at the same moment I re- 
 membered that it was there I had seen hhn. 
 The year before my father died I went there 
 with my aunt. '' And did you not sing a 
 Neapolitan barcarolle on the ruins of the 
 theatre ? Ah ! yes it is the same, and it 
 seems now but yesterday that I heard that 
 
 thrilling voice, and " 
 
 He suddenly stopped, and turned pale, as 
 if some fearful impression had suddenly 
 awakened, that checked, or half-obliterated, 
 the apparently happy remembrance of our 
 sunny day at Pompeii. The real reason for 
 that change I never ascertained till long, 
 long afterwards, and how often I have bit- 
 terly regretted that 1 did not at the mo- 
 ment ask him what it was. What endless 
 sorrow might then have been spared to us
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 161 
 
 and many others. But at that moment I 
 was too full of a new kind of joy to take in 
 and comprehend any source of misery. In 
 fact, I looked away from it, and sought to 
 restore his hitherto happy expression by 
 speaking of that day at Pompeii ; and I re- 
 minded him that he had picked up my hat, 
 which fell off as I had climbed up the ruined 
 wall. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and how delightfully you 
 showed your gratitude by consenting to sing 
 another song; and then how provoked I was 
 at its being interrupted by that old nurse, 
 who began to scold, and to say '' e poi^' with 
 such fierce looks ; and how you ran away, 
 and I saw you join an old lady, who also 
 looked so angry that I did not venture to 
 follow you, lest I should increase your 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 trouble. And then you drove off," he added, 
 " and I lost all traces of you. But the voice, 
 
 and your Well, how strange that we 
 
 should meet again after so many years. And 
 of course you sing now ? You must have 
 the finest voice I ever heard ! You will 
 sing for me to-morrow, will you not ? For 
 I am engaged to dine with Lady Horatia 
 Somerton, and I find you are staying with 
 her ; and you will sing with me ?" 
 
 We then talked of the various songs 
 which were in vogue ; and he sang a few 
 notes of some duets he wanted me to sing 
 with him, which I had never heard before. 
 We were interrupted at last by Lord Wood- 
 ford, who exclaimed in his harsh, conceited- 
 sounding voice, 
 
 " Ha ! I have found you at last ! Have
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 163 
 
 you been hiding here all this time ? Lady 
 Horatia Somerton is quite uneasy about Miss 
 Vivian. And she forgot that she was en- 
 gaged to me for the fourth galop, a good 
 hour ago." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said I ; while I felt 
 particularly glad to have escaped the dance 
 with him. 
 
 " Well, you must make amends by danc- 
 ing this waltz." And he put out his arm 
 with a kind of familiar confidence which 
 annoyed me, and I said — 
 
 *' Oh ! no, I could not waltz with you 
 now — it is impossible." 
 
 He seemed much surprised, and then 
 said, 
 
 " Well, then, the next quadrille. And in 
 the meantime I have Lady Horatia's orders 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 to bring you to her." And he again held 
 out his arm. 
 
 But I shrank away, and said with a some- 
 what haughty air, 
 
 "I will return to Lady Horatia, of course, 
 if she wishes to see me." And taking 
 Sir Alfred's arm, we proceeded slowly to- 
 wards the ball-room, followed by Lord 
 Woodford, who talked to us about the ball, 
 and the company, in his rough bass voice, 
 all the time.
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LADY HORATIA SOMERTON. 
 
 r THOUGHT Lady Horatia Somerton 
 looked rather displeased when we at 
 last succeeded in getting through the crowd, 
 and reached the raised sofa where she sat. 
 
 '^ Have you been dancing together all this 
 time ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Only one waltz and a quadrille," said 
 Sir Alfred ; '* but I have been showing Miss 
 Vivian the pictures.'*
 
 166 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " But I found them in the conservatory,'* 
 said Lord Woodford, " engaged — I may say 
 that I surprised them — in a very interest- 
 ing tete-a-teiey I assure you." 
 
 I felt much annoyed, and could not help 
 blushing, as I feared, by Lady Horatia's 
 looks of displeasure, that I had been doing 
 something wrong. 
 
 "Well, but you are engaged for the 
 next quadrille to Lord Woodford, are 
 you not?" inquired Lady Horatia; "and 
 it will soon begin, so you had better go 
 at once, and get a good place, and a vis-a- 
 
 VIS. 
 
 I could no longer refuse Lord Woodford's 
 arm ; and as I reluctantly went with him 
 towards the dancers, I was somewhat re- 
 lieved by seeing Sir Alfred soon follow with
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 167 
 
 a 3^oung lady, and insist on being our 
 vis-a-vis. So I enjoyed the dance extremely, 
 for he contrived to look towards me several 
 times. But I saw that Lord Woodford did 
 not seem to like this, and was annoyed 
 because I would not attend much to his 
 trifling talk. At least it seemed to me 
 trifling, because I did not like his manner or 
 tone. 
 
 When the dance was over, Ladv Horatia 
 said it was time to go home, and she asked 
 Sir Alfred to get her carriage. The irre- 
 pressible Lord Woodford again offered his 
 arm to take me down to the cloak-room, 
 while some other young men offered theirs 
 to Lady Horatia. She accepted the assist- 
 ance of a little man with a turned-up nose, 
 who had danced with me twice, and had
 
 168 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 buzzed about me a good deal. I did not 
 know who he was, but, as we drove home, 
 Lady Horatia told me he was the young 
 Marquis of Lorrington, one of the richest 
 men of the day. 
 
 " You have made no end of conquests," 
 she said. " Your success has been even 
 greater than I anticipated. But now I am 
 going to give you a serious piece of advice. 
 1 am going to place you as our parents were 
 in the Garden of Eden. You may freely 
 flirt with all the men, who are only too 
 willing to fall in love with you, except one ; 
 and with him," she added, in a tone partly 
 mocking, but with a great mixture of seri- 
 ous anxiety — " with him thou shalt not 
 flirt, nor allow him to fall in love ; and 
 that is the man you unfortunately mono-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 169 
 
 polised so long this evening, Sir Alfred 
 Rivers." 
 
 " Why ? — is he engaged to be married ?'* 
 I asked, with a sudden anxiety, 
 
 *' I cannot explain my reasons ; only re- 
 member, they are very weighty. I shall be 
 extremely displeased if you do not fulfil my 
 wishes to the letter in this case ; nay, more, 
 you will bitterly repent it yourself if you 
 disregard my commands." 
 
 Her tone was more serious, and her looks 
 more dark and angry, than I fancied such 
 cheery and sunshiny features could have 
 assumed ; so, feeling half frightened and 
 half angry, I said — 
 
 " I am sure I don't want any of the gen- 
 tlemen to like me. I — in fact " I was 
 
 going to say, " I am engaged," but the re-
 
 170 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 collection of Carlo's supposed indifference 
 made me stop, when it roused still more my 
 proud and rebellious feelings. 
 
 " But they do, and will care for you," 
 said Lady Horatia, in her usual pleasant 
 tone. "There are two great partis at your 
 feet already. You may be Lady Wood- 
 ford, with a fine castle and park in Wales, 
 and twelve thousand a year ; or the Mar- 
 chioness of Lorrington, with thirty thousand 
 a year. Yes, I have asked Lorrington to 
 dinner to-morrow, for he would suit you 
 best. He is a good little man, and if you 
 managed him well, he would make a very 
 fair husband." 
 
 " But I should not like to marry either 
 of them," I said ; " and besides, they can- 
 not possibly care for me."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 171 
 
 '* Perhaps not for you, but for the reign- 
 ing beauty of the season they will. I mean, 
 they do not understand you so well as I do. 
 I was prepared for your not caring much 
 about rank or fortune, if you could but love 
 the person who offers it. Still you like 
 luxury and splendour, and you may get to 
 like that young Marquis." 
 
 '' Impossible !" 
 
 " Well, we shall see ; only remember my 
 orders about Sir Alfred. I am sorry he is 
 coming also to dinner to-morrow, but it 
 can't be helped now. I could not foresee 
 that he would take such " 
 
 *'We met before, when I was a little girl 
 at Pompeii," I said, as if to excuse him in 
 her eyes, " and he liked my singing some 
 Neapolitan barcarolle."
 
 172 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; you have a splendid voice too, 
 of course you have, and he is the best tenor 
 of the day." 
 
 She was silent during the rest of the drive 
 home, and looked thoughtful and not well 
 pleased. 
 
 " What can it be ?" I thought. " Can she 
 care for him herself, or has she a bad opinion 
 of him ?" 
 
 This mysterious prohibition made me 
 think still more of him, and in the rebellious 
 frame I was in rather seemed to stimulate 
 my spirit of contradiction. Then I deter- 
 mined to be cautious, and not appear to be 
 ungrateful for all her kindness to me, by ap- 
 parently going against her wishes. 
 
 Had she but known me better still, and
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 173 
 
 confided the whole truth about Sir Alfred, 
 what years of trouble and misery and re- 
 morse might have been spared ! This was the 
 great turning-point of my life. 
 
 *' I should not fall in love — no, of course 
 not. I would never care for anyone again ; 
 it would be impossible." Still my last 
 thoughts, as I went to sleep that night, were 
 of Sir Alfred ; and his looks, the tone of his 
 voice, haunted my dreams all night with a 
 wild, intoxicating kind of delight. 
 
 But the next morning I got up with a 
 feeling of disenchantment and depression. 
 The cold light of a cloudy morning, that 
 penetrated the dingy blinds, seemed to 
 awaken me to the realities of life, and my 
 peculiar position in it. The transient gleam
 
 174 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 of wild bliss I had enjoyed the night before 
 was exchanged for a dreary feeling of disbe- 
 lief in all happiness.
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FASCINATION. 
 
 IITRS. MORD AUNT very kindly came, 
 into my room, while I was dressing, 
 to know how I had enjoyed my first ball. 
 I did not seem to be able to tell her any- 
 thing about it, except that the room was 
 beautiful, and that I danced a great deal. 
 '* And you had pleasant partners ?" 
 "Only one," I was going to say, but 
 checked myself when I remembered Lady 
 Horatia's solemn commands. " Yes, pretty
 
 176 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 well; everybody was very kind to me, and the 
 Duke himself was most attentive." 
 
 " Ah, well, you are a lucky girl to be 
 thus launched forth in the best society. 
 Lady Horatia will not come down to break- 
 fast, and Mr. Mordaunt and I had ours with 
 little Miss Somerton and her governess, and 
 Lady Horatia thought you would like to have 
 yours up here ; and there is a letter for you 
 — I think from Aunt Jane." 
 
 The letter I had long been anxiously ex- 
 pecting ! Yet somehow, now that I held it in 
 my hand, I felt that whatever she said would 
 not be of much use ; in fact, I half dreaded 
 the good influence she had exerted over me, 
 and I was not impatient to read it. So I 
 finished dressing very leisurely, and satisfied 
 dear, good Mrs. Mordaunt's curiosity as far
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 177 
 
 as I could about the details of the ball and 
 my partners. 
 
 '* And was not our nephew, Sir Alfred 
 Rivers there?" she inquired, for I had pur- 
 posely avoided his name. 
 
 " Yes, and I danced with him twice, I be- 
 lieve," said I, with well-assumed indiiference. 
 " And I find he is to dine here to-day," I 
 added, as I put the finishing stroke to the 
 braids of my hair. I longed to ask her 
 whether he was engaged to be married, or 
 what Lady Horatia could have meant, but I 
 shrank from saying anything that would be- 
 tray the strange interest I felt about him. 
 I remembered hearing Mr. Mordaunt com- 
 plain that his nephew was wild, and gambled, 
 and that all the women in London were 
 making up to him ; but in my present per- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 verse state of mind all this, even the vice of 
 gambling, seemed to increase his fascination. 
 
 After breakfast I remembered that I had 
 not yet read Aunt Jane's letter, and won- 
 dered, with a kind of startled self-reproach, 
 ^ at the change which had come over me in 
 the last six weeks, since I wrote to her. 
 When I had sent that letter to her I felt as if 
 she were the only person in the world who 
 could help me, and as if all my future life 
 would depend upon the advice her answer 
 would contain. 
 
 Just as I was beginning to read it, the 
 little Brownie came skipping into my room, 
 to see I had my breakfast all right ; and she 
 brought a roll of music in her hand, which 
 she told me was sent her by Sir Alfred, for 
 me to look over.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 1 79 
 
 '* And he sent a message to nie," she 
 added, with an arch smile, "to beg that I 
 would make you try them over. So come 
 down to the piano directl}^ ; there will be no 
 one in the drawing-room for- the next two 
 hours." And she took hold of my hand 
 and led me downstairs. 
 
 They were the duets and songs he had 
 mentioned the night before, "Amor posente 
 nomi," in Armida, and one in Zoraide, in 
 which the words he warbled in the con- 
 servatory began, 
 
 " Ah, nati e ver noi siamo sol per amarci ognor " 
 
 Now these words, and the tones of his 
 splendid voice, still sounded in my ears, 
 and filled me with a kind of wild, in- 
 toxicating joy. I sang over my parts in a 
 
 N 2
 
 180 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 kind of ecstasy of delight, while the little 
 Brownie stood on a chair, leaning over the 
 end of the piano, and gazing in my face with 
 evidently wondering admiration. 
 
 " Oh ! go on ; it is better than anything 
 at the Opera !" she said, when I came to the 
 solo of Armida's part. 
 
 She was a very odd and original child, 
 and so susceptible of impressions produced 
 by the sentiments uttered in music, that she 
 kept up a kind of graceful action all the 
 time, clasping her hand with an imploring 
 look at the pathetic parts, and raising them 
 in wild triumph at the exulting, joyful 
 passages ; then, at some plaintive phrases, 
 the tears ran down her little cheeks. 
 
 " I must come down to hear you sing them 
 with Sir Alfred," she said. " I shall be very
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 181 
 
 good all day, then Madame Perier will lot 
 Mie steal down into the next room, wdiere 
 nobody will see nie." 
 
 " But I am not at all sure of singing them 
 with him," I said. " On the contrary, I am 
 sure I sliall not." 
 
 " Why ?" she inquired, while her large 
 eyes looked wonderingly into mine w^ith an 
 expression that made me think that I was 
 annoyed at the idea of not sin^in£^ w^th him. 
 But with the fine tact I afterwards found 
 she possessed, she made no observation, ex- 
 cept to take my hand in both hers, and raise 
 it to her lips, witli a kind of winning gentle- 
 ness and reverence which was very charm- 
 ing. " I must go and do my lessons now, 
 but you will sing to me again to-morrow if 
 — if I don't hear you to-night? Mamma will
 
 182 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 be down soon," she added, as she ran out of 
 the room. 
 
 I hastily gathered up the music when I 
 heard this, as I did not want her to see that 
 I had been practising Sir Alfred's songs, 
 and took them upstairs to my room. In 
 fact, I almost shrank from seeing her, from 
 feeling conscious of the longing I had to 
 sing them with him, and to disobey her 
 mysterious commands. 
 
 I then remembered Aunt Jane's letter ; 
 and having no further excuse for delay, I 
 sat down deliberately to read it. Such a 
 letter ! Years afterwards the words dwelt 
 in my mind ; and at times of my greatest 
 perversity and error, they haunted me with 
 a warning like the writing on the wall of 
 Babylon, that would not be hidden from my
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 183 
 
 eyes — the kind advice, the warning against 
 the very same rebellious frame of mind 
 into which I now felt conscious I had fallen ! 
 I read it through, gasping, with a feeling of 
 horror at myself, half wishing that I had not 
 read it. 
 
 Aunt Jane seemed to foresee so plainly 
 my exact position and particular tempta- 
 tions. Yet she could not have known that 
 I was coming to Lady Horatia's, or that I 
 should have met such a person as Sir Alfred.
 
 184 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A PLEASANT DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 T ADY HORATIA most kindly superin- 
 tended my toilette for the dinner-party 
 that day, and made me wear one of my 
 own simple muslin dresses, which had been 
 a little altered by Madame Rosalie ; and she 
 placed a spray of white stephanotis in my 
 hair, which she gathered from their own 
 conservatory. 
 
 The little Marquis of Lorrington was the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 185 
 
 first to arrive ; and then a fat, large man, 
 who, I heard, was the greatest wit of the 
 day. After that, a short, interesting-look- 
 ing pale one (who was said to be a cele- 
 brated poet), and a little old lady, who 
 seemed very short-sighted, but had a most 
 pleasing expression and tone of voice. She 
 was reckoned the most agreeable woman in 
 London. 
 
 Lord Lorrington had sat down by me 
 when he came, and began to talk very 
 quickly, and to tell me about the others as 
 they came in ; but I was glad when the 
 pale poet came and seated himself on the 
 other side of me, with an arch look, as if he 
 intended to monopolize my attention. 
 
 " I always choose to sit by the youngest and 
 prettiest of the party," he said. And then he
 
 186 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 talked very agreeably, in a slow and pleasant, 
 though somewhat nasal voice. Although he 
 spoke chiefly to me, he did not exclude 
 Lord Lorrington — on the contrary, it seemed 
 to me as if he wished to draw out whatever 
 of good or agreeable there might be found 
 in the young Marquis, who evidently had 
 sufficient humility to look up to the old 
 poet with much respect, although he did not 
 seem to like the interruption to our tete-a-tete 
 at first. 
 
 Another lady and gentleman arrived after 
 we had talked for some little time ; and it 
 was now so late that I began to fear that 
 Sir Alfred would not come. Could Lady 
 Horatia have put him oif ? I was confirmed 
 in this apprehension by seeing her ring the 
 bell and order dinner ; and my disappoint-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 187 
 
 ment must have been shown in my face, for 
 the old poet whispered in my ear, 
 
 " Ah ! you were expecting somebody else, 
 who has not come." 
 
 At that moment dinner was announced, 
 and Lady Horatia, after sending the other 
 guests down, took Lord Lorrington's arm, 
 and the poet offered his to me. 
 
 " I am lucky," he said, "but I would not 
 have given you up even if the right person 
 had arrived. But, my dear child, take an 
 old man's advice, and unless he^ the right 
 one, is very, very good, don't throw away 
 your chance of that young Marquis ; there 
 is more good in him than you think of. I 
 wish he may find a nice, pretty wife soon ; 
 and I think — I think, if you could love him 
 as he deserves — I'm not sure, though. You
 
 188 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 have a fine nature, but something has gone 
 wrong with you. Is it the loss of your pro- 
 perty ? That was certainly a great trial. 
 Ah ! we are to go to the top. Lady Horatia 
 wants you to sit near the Marquis, I see." 
 
 So I found myself between them again, 
 and just after we sat down I saw Sir Alfred 
 come into the room. He went up to Lady 
 Horatia and apologised for being so late, 
 then shook hands with me, or rather pressed 
 my hand with a soft, lingering touch which 
 made me blush with delight, and went to 
 take the only vacant place at the farther 
 end of the table. I believe that neither of 
 my neighbours had seen me blush, but I 
 saw that Lady Horatia's quick eyes per- 
 ceived it ; so I began to talk very volubly 
 to Lord Lorrington, for I was much afraid
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 189 
 
 of the poet's quickness of perception ; but a 
 little time afterwards, the poet said to me — 
 
 " Yes, he is very handsome, and has some 
 genius ; but, my dear young lady, pray don't 
 fall in love with him." 
 
 '' With whom ?" I inquired, as innocently 
 as I could, as I felt that my cheek was get- 
 ting most provokingly red. 
 
 " You know whom I mean, I see ; but I 
 hope he's not the one you expected, because 
 you must not think of him." 
 
 How very strange this second warning 
 seemed ! What could he know ? 
 
 "Why? — is it because he plays?"! asked. 
 
 " There are many reasons," he said, with 
 a solemn voice. "Take my advice, don't 
 dream of him — don't be foolish — it would 
 never do."
 
 190 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 I was afraid Lady Horatia would hear us, 
 so I began to talk of other things; and as I 
 soon saw that Sir Alfred was looking at me 
 with that wonderfully fascinating expression, 
 I enjoyed the party very much. 
 
 The celebrated wit sat on Lady Horatia's 
 left side, and so we came in for a good 
 many of his jokes ; and there was something 
 in the manner of telling them, and his 
 broad, genial face, that made everything he 
 said most amusing. 
 
 Many of his sayings were repeated all 
 along the table, and reached Sir Alfred, 
 who responded with some witty or clever 
 remark, which showed him to me in a dif- 
 ferent and still more attractive point of view 
 than before. 
 
 *' No wonder that everybody raves about
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 191 
 
 him, and his voice too," thought I, with a 
 thrill of delight at the idea of singing with 
 him. My face must have expressed my 
 thoughts much more than was expedient, 
 for the pale poet said at that moment, 
 
 " You will enjoy singing with him to- 
 night. I am afraid even more than I shall 
 to hear you both, and that will be very 
 much, for to hear good music is one of the 
 greatest pleasures of my life."
 
 192 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE FATAL SPELL. 
 
 T ADY HORATIA then made the move 
 for the ladies to go upstairs, and 
 when we reached the drawing-room I found 
 myself near the little, short-sighted old lady. 
 Lady Charlotte Crofton, who began talking 
 very kindly to me, and asked particularly 
 what kind of person my cousin was, whose 
 unexpected existence had deprived me of 
 my inheritance.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 193 
 
 I could tell her nothing at all about him, 
 for no one with whom I was acquainted 
 had yet seen him, except my guardian. 
 
 *'That is very strange," she said; "I 
 should have thought his first object would 
 have been to see you, and express the regret 
 he ought to feel at depriving you of your 
 property. He cannot be like his father, for 
 I well remember he was the best-bred as 
 well as the handsomest man I ever saw." 
 
 " Ah, that fatal passion for gambling !" 
 she added, after a pause; and then she seem- 
 ed to be scanning me very minutely. "That 
 fatal vice ! my dear young lady, remember, 
 whatever you do, don't marry a gambler. 
 They are often so fatally fascinating ; and I 
 often think that the handsome baronet 
 who dines here will have the same fate as 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 your poor uncle ; for, you know, he ruined 
 himself, and diminished by three-fourths 
 your grandfather s splendid property." 
 
 " Do you mean Sir Alfred Rivers ?" I in- 
 quired, while I tried to look as composed 
 and indifferent as possible. 
 
 '' Yes, he has already lost very large sums, 
 and a few evenings ago — " she was inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of some guests, who 
 were so delighted to find her that they di- 
 verted her attention till the gentlemen 
 came up. 
 
 The first to enter the room was Sir Alfred, 
 and I was the first person he addressed. 
 He asked me more with eyes than speech 
 whether I had tried the music. I mean that 
 the expression of his eyes, and the tone of 
 his voice, said more than his words. He
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 195 
 
 seemed to cast a spell over me, and in spite 
 of Lady Horatia's and other warnings. I 
 seemed drawn with him, by some magic 
 power, to the farther end of the next roouj, 
 where the piano was. 
 *■ Then he looked over the music, talking: 
 of many other thmgs too, till Lord Lorring- 
 ton came, who said Lady Horatia sent him 
 to beg that Sir Alfred would sing a solo. 
 Then he sang that song of Rubini's, " Nel 
 furor delle tempeste," which I had never 
 heard before ; and I was so entranced by 
 his voice that I quite shrank from singing 
 even with him, lest it should spoil my 
 enjoyment of listening ; so he sang " Vivi 
 tu," while the room gradually became quite 
 full, for there was an evening party, and 
 
 o 2
 
 196 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 every one was anxious to hear the best 
 amateur of the day. 
 
 " Now will you sing 'Amor posente nome,' 
 with me? — or shall I come to-morrow morn- 
 ing, and we will have a delightful rehearsal 
 of all these ?" 
 
 He said this very low, and evidently did 
 not wish that anyone should hear him. 
 
 "To-morrow," I said, when a joyous blush 
 most provokingly tinged my cheeks, and 
 made me feel quite guilty. But it was evi- 
 dent that I must sing that night, for the 
 good-natured little blundering Lord Lorring- 
 ton asked Lady Horatia to make me sing; 
 and he even pointed out the duet Sir Alfred 
 held in his baud, and said that he particular- 
 ly wished us to sing that — his great favour- 
 ite. Lady Horatia seemed annoyed, but
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 197 
 
 Still she begged I would sing it, if I thought 
 I knew it sufficiently, adding " that it was a 
 great risk to sing it at sight before a large 
 audience." 
 
 '^ You can sing it, I am sure," said Sir Al- 
 fred ; and added, in the same whisper, " you 
 are the only person in the whole world I 
 would risk singing it with in public without 
 a rehearsal. But you will do it splendidly," 
 he added, with a look of such encouraging 
 admiration, that I felt quite re-assured. 
 
 He played the accompaniment, and I 
 suppose it went well, for the applause at the 
 end was most enthusiastic, and even Lady 
 Horatia complimented me on my wonderful 
 success, and Lord Lorrington said the public 
 were indebted to him for their [)lcasure, as 
 he had made me sini' it. 
 
 o
 
 198 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " Ah ! now we must have this one," he 
 added, as he placed " Ah, nati e ver " on 
 the piano desk. This went even better, I 
 beheve, and I felt more confident, and gave 
 a fuller meaning to the words. And the 
 applause that was given, the clapping of 
 hands, the rush of people who wished to be 
 introduced to me, was quite bewildering. 
 
 " She is not a professor," I heard Lady 
 Horatia telling some of the people who had 
 come after dinner. *' She is not the new 
 opera-singer," she said, in rather an angry 
 tone ; and then she whispered to me, " You 
 ought not to have sung ; you ought to have 
 known that I could not help asking you 
 when Lord Lorrington pressed it. Well, 
 never mind now, but this must never happen 
 again."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 199 
 
 The pale poet, too, came up to rae with 
 a look of half reproach and half admiration, 
 and said, 
 
 " Such music as that covers a multitude of 
 sins. It makes me forgive even your dis- 
 obedience ; but beware," he added, in a 
 lower tone, " you are like a moth singeing its 
 wings in that brilliant light, and will not 
 leave it till you are burnt to death. Here 
 comes our friend the great wit, Mr. Baynard, 
 to congratulate you on the end of your 
 singing. Look, he is bursting with sup- 
 pressed conversation ; liis brilliant Hash of 
 silence has lasted so long!" 
 
 Then people began to talk, and a large 
 group surrounded the wit, Mr. Baynard; but 
 the person with whom he chiefly conversed 
 was Lady Charlotte Crofton, the little short-
 
 200 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 sighted lady, who had raised her warning 
 voice to me before the music began. Sir 
 Alfred remained near me, and told me who 
 the different people were, but he also joined 
 in the general conversation. It seemed as 
 if he did not wish others to perceive the 
 marked attention which I felt he was show- 
 ing me. 
 
 Lord Lorrington was also near, and 
 though I saw he admired me, did not seem 
 to be jealous of Sir Alfred, which confirmed 
 me in the opinion the poet had expressed of 
 his amiability. But Sir Alfred was not 
 equally tolerant or amiable, which was very 
 delightful. Indeed, he said, in a low 
 voice, 
 
 '' It's no use my staying here now, I shall 
 have no more conversation with you ; but
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 201 
 
 may I come to-morrow morning, and have u 
 rehearsal of those other duets ?" 
 
 *' I — no — I think not. Lady Horatia — " 
 
 " I understand. She has cautioned you 
 against me. I thought it would be so," he 
 added, with a most touching, melancholy 
 tone and look. " I see I must not come ; 
 but, of course, I shall meet you at Lady 
 Dalton's ball to-morrow night ?" 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 He said no more, but gave me a look 
 which seemed to express a whole world of 
 hope and bliss, and then went away. 
 
 It was a great joy to have received that 
 look ; but why did he go so suddenly, and 
 before any of the company went? The old 
 
 poet, Mr. , whom I had not seen since 
 
 the end of the singing, came up to me at
 
 202 THE LOST BEIDE. 
 
 that moment, and, as if he knew my 
 thoughts, said, 
 
 ^* Ah, he is gone to Crockford's, my dear 
 young lady. You see that even your beauty 
 and attraction cannot keep him away from 
 that fatal gambling." 
 
 " He said there was no use in staying now, 
 because he should have no more conver- 
 sation with me," I replied, with a kind of 
 proud eagerness to defend Sir Alfred. 
 
 " Oh, it has gone so far as that, has it ?" 
 and he raised his pale thin hand with a 
 gesture of disapproval. " You will be the 
 moth, and you will burn yourself to death." 
 
 He then began to talk to Mr. Mordaunt, 
 who had just come back from his club, 
 where he had been dining, to avoid the '' stiff 
 dinner," as he called it, and was now very
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 203 
 
 angry at finding the rooms full of people, 
 as he did not know that an evening party was 
 expected. 
 
 The old poet was araused at his crossness, 
 and rather increased it by asking him about 
 Langdale Priory and its new owner, and ex- 
 pressing great surprise that Mr. Mordaunt 
 had not yet seen my new cousin. 
 
 ** You ought to go there, my good friend," 
 he said ; " go and see with your own eyes 
 what kind of youth it is. And never mind 
 intruding — you ought to intrude in such a 
 case. Why can't you make the excuse that 
 you have left something behind in some 
 drawer — some important paper, or a favour- 
 ite old pair of boots. Go there at once ;" 
 and then he said something in a lower 
 tone, of which the only word that reached
 
 204 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 my ears were " those scoundrel Jews." 
 
 " Ha, then I will go," exclaimed Mr. 
 Mordaunt, with loud anger ; " confound the 
 boy!" 
 
 " Hush ! there's Mr. Baynard, he will think 
 you are some wild animal of an original ; 
 he's always on the look-out for characters, 
 and you are not acquainted with him, I 
 think." 
 
 *' Yes, I will go there indeed, by the first 
 train to-morrow — this morning," said Mr. 
 Mordaunt, as he looked at the clock, which 
 showed it was nearly one. ^' I will, for by — , 
 it will be too bad if the girl is ousted out of 
 her home for a confounded spendthrift." 
 
 ^' Not so loud, my good friend, you will 
 attract everybody's attention, for I see you 
 are a man of one idea, and I have fatally set
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 205 
 
 you going, and can't make you discreet and 
 cautious." 
 
 "Ah, young lady, be discreet and 
 
 cautious." 
 
 " I'll do nothing in a hurry," said Mr. 
 Mordaunt, while he gave the lie to his own 
 words by leaving the room in such violent 
 haste that he nearly knocked down several 
 people on his way to the door. 
 
 I could not help feeling glad that the 
 dear old poet had stirrefd up Mr. Mordaunt's 
 energies. 
 
 '' That worthy man," continued he, "can 
 do nothing; unless his ansfer is excited, I 
 know, but I wish he had spared Mrs. Law- 
 rence's wig. See, he has actually contrived 
 to turn it awry, and the poor lady is making 
 violent efforts to put it right ; can't you get
 
 206 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 quietly behind her and help to set it right 
 without appearing to do so, for the stupid 
 dandies are laughing at her, as if they never 
 expected to grow old themselves." 
 
 Guided by him, I endeavoured to move 
 quietly near the poor lady, but she was 
 leaving the room as we approached, in de- 
 spair probably of being able to put her wig 
 and head-dress to rights. We followed her 
 into the next room, which was less crowded ; 
 and the poet, without seeming to know that 
 anything had happened, quietly introduced 
 me, and then I offered to settle a feather in 
 her hair which I said was displaced. I con- 
 trived to turn the wig round in so doing, 
 and put all her headgear to rights, and she 
 expressed her grateful thanks. 
 
 "You must come and see my grand-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 207 
 
 children next Frida}^ — we are going to have 
 a juvenile ball ; and Lady Horatia has pro- 
 raised to bring her little Letitia. I did not 
 intend to have any grown-up young ladies, 
 but I shall like to have you. And they are 
 going to make up a little concert. Indeed, 
 Sir Alfred Rivers is so kind as to superin- 
 tend it. By-the-by, were you the young 
 lady who had just been singing with him 
 when I came in ?" 
 
 " Yes, she was," said the poet ; " but I 
 don't advise you to make her sing on Friday, 
 for she is worse than a professor, and will 
 totally eclipse all your young ones." 
 
 "Ah! that would be a pity," said this 
 matter-of-fact old lady. 
 
 '' Now, mind you don't, thougli," said he, 
 after she was gone. " And it would show
 
 208 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 very bad taste and feeling if you do ; and I 
 am sure Lady Horatia will not like it." 
 
 ^* Of course I will not," said I, somewhat 
 nettled at the idea, and provoked that 
 everything and everybody seemed to com- 
 bine to prevent us from singing together.
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A DISAGREEABLE INTERRUPTION. 
 
 II TR. MORDAUNT fulfilled his intention 
 of starting quite early the next morn- 
 ing for Langdale Priory, intending to sleep 
 at the inn in the nearest town, and return 
 on the following day. 
 
 Lady Horatia never came down before 
 luncheon, so I made use of the piano in the 
 drawing-room, under the guidance of the 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 little Brownie. In the middle of one of 
 my songs, in which the little girl kept up a 
 kind of acting accompaniment, the door 
 opened, and, to my dismay, Mr. Henry 
 Mordaunt was announced. I had hoped 
 never to see him again, and wondered how 
 he could venture to seek me out in this 
 manner. I therefore took it for granted 
 that he wished to see Mrs. Mordaunt, and I 
 said I would go and find her. I hastily 
 left the room. Could the man be really 
 in love with me that he thus persevered, 
 now that I had lost my property, I thought. 
 I then wished that Lady Horatia had been 
 made acquainted with his insolent proposal, 
 for I dreaded lest she might good-naturedly 
 ask him to dinner, or to some party. So I 
 whispered to Brownie that I should like, if
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 211 
 
 possible, to have a few words with her 
 mother. 
 
 "You don't like that man, I see," said the 
 shrewd child ; " and I hate him, because he 
 interrupted our song, and made you look 
 angry and unhappy ; and I am sure mamma 
 won't like him. She never does like people 
 who look so pretentious and disagreeable as 
 that man does. She will not ask him, I am 
 certain." 
 
 "I hope not. And that is just what I 
 want — to try and prevent her. He is related 
 to us, and I am afraid she might." 
 
 We were now at the top of the stairs, 
 and Brownie opened Lady Horatia's do(^r, 
 and I heard her say that I wished to speak 
 to her. 
 
 " You won't want me, I kiKjw — she has 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 got something very particular to say, I see 
 by her anxious face, so I'll go and finish my 
 lessons." 
 
 Yes, I had something very particular to 
 say ; and, impelled by the kind sympathy 
 of her face, I told her of the persecution to 
 which my guardian had always subjected me, 
 and of his infamous offer to keep the mat- 
 ter secret and allow me to retain possession 
 of my property, if I would consent to marry 
 him. I also told her of the still greater 
 horror I had experienced at his surmise that 
 the world would blame my father, and 
 imagine that he had suppressed the fact of 
 his elder brother's marriage after becoming 
 acquainted with it. 
 
 " Impossible ! — he was too well known 
 for that," said Lady Horatia, indignantly ;
 
 THE LOST BRTDE. 2113 
 
 and then added, while she kissed me ten- 
 derly — " My poor child, you have indeed 
 suffered, and I do not now wonder at your 
 being in an excited and perhaps somewhat 
 perverse state. You must think no more 
 about all this, but try to enjoy yourself and 
 your triumphs. And now I must see about 
 your dress for to-night. I want you to be 
 more beautiful than ever, for you will meet 
 a rival beauty to-night — a marvellous beauty, 
 and, strange to say, also a half Italian — the 
 Countess Rossi." 
 
 *' Oh ! I have heard of her ; and, indeed, 
 she is related to my mother ; and I have 
 also heard of the mysterious disappearance 
 of her husband's intended wife, Dorina, the 
 very night before the marriage was to have 
 taken place. So she has come to Lond()n ?"
 
 214 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " Yes ; she was presented at Court last 
 week — for she has succeeded to a fine 
 old place and property, Castle Hill^ — and 
 the sensation she created at the Drawing- 
 room was most astonishing. Never was 
 anything like it since the last century, and 
 the days of the Gunnings. People were 
 breathless with admiration, and quite 
 mobbed her." 
 
 '* Yes, she is partly Italian ; she is related 
 distantly to " — Carlo, I was going to say, 
 but checked myself; "but she is more Ger- 
 man, and, from what I hear, she must be a 
 most dreadful person." 
 
 '* I can quite imagine that : there is some- 
 thing quite diabolical in her splendid eyes ; 
 she gave me the idea of an evil spirit in the 
 form of an angel of light — yes, light as well
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 215 
 
 as beauty ; for there was something so 
 strangely dazzling about her — the quick 
 play of expression, the most brilliant com- 
 plexion and colouring I ever saw, a hue of 
 indescribable shiningness all over her, a 
 Venus de' Medici kind of figure — she re- 
 minded me of those quaint lines of Her- 
 bert's — 
 
 ' O Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
 Makes the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
 Thy root is ever in its grave. 
 And thou must die.' " 
 
 I felt much curiosity to see her, and yet 
 a kind of vague dread, for Lady Horatia s 
 description exactly tallied with what I had 
 heard ; and, in fact, it had been whispered 
 that she made away with her cousin and 
 rival bv causin^r her to fall into some deep
 
 216 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 chasm in the Hohenstein caves ; but I would 
 not repeat this to Lady Horatia, as I would 
 never believe that it could possibly be true.
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE RIVAL BEAUTIES. 
 
 rjlHE ball at Lady Dalton's that evening 
 was of a more mixed kind than the 
 
 Duke of D 's. I saw several people 
 
 making up violently to Lady Horatia, who 
 reminded me in their speech and manner of 
 Mrs. Chandos. 
 
 The little Marquis and Lord Woodford 
 were both standing at the top of the stairs 
 when we were announced, and both claimed 
 me for the first dance.
 
 218 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 '' Rank must have precedence," said Lady 
 Horatia, smiling at my embarrassment as to 
 which I was to accept. So Lord Lorring- 
 ton led me into the ball-room, when I had 
 promised the next waltz to the other, al- 
 though he was such a bad waltzer, I dread- 
 ed the display. But there was no help for 
 it, as I could not discover Sir Alfred any- 
 where. 
 
 In the middle of our quadrille, we saw a 
 great movement of the crowd at the further 
 end of the long ball-room, and everyone 
 looked with great curiosity to see what 
 occasioned it. Soon the dense mass was 
 divided, and fell back, as Lord Lorrington 
 said, like the walls of the Red Sea ; and in 
 the clear space between we saw a dazzling 
 apparition — a shining, fairy-like form lean-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 219 
 
 ing on — oh ! horror, then I saw it — it must 
 be the Countess Rossi, and the man is — Sir 
 Alfred! 
 
 They were followed by another pair, and 
 the four took their places in our quadrille. 
 A dense crowd now surrounded us. People 
 stood on chairs, while others pressed so near 
 that, had there been no partition-ropes, we 
 should have had no room to stir. 
 
 She, or rather it, I was going to say, for 
 there was something so dazzlingly unreal 
 about her — she was very small, and dressed in 
 something indescribably glittering— whether 
 it was covered with diamonds, or gold and 
 silver tissue, I know not — and her move- 
 ments were so quick, and her step so light, 
 that she seemed to be hovering in the air, 
 like a butterfly darting about near a flower.
 
 220 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 Sir Alfred nodded to me, and half shrug- 
 ged his shoulders, as if he meant to express 
 regret that he was not dancing with me ; 
 but I think she perceived the gesture, slight 
 as it was, for she instantly asked him some 
 question, and contrived totally to absorb 
 his attention during the remainder of the 
 dance. 
 
 But she looked at me several times, 
 though I felt that she prevented him from 
 looking in my direction, and asked him about 
 people on the farthest side from where I 
 was. She is mesmerising him, I thought, 
 with a feeling of vague dread, and I looked 
 round on my partner, to see what effect 
 her beauty had on him. He had seen 
 her before, and, in reply to my question, 
 said.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 221 
 
 " Yes, I suppose she is splendid and 
 beautiful, but I don't think her lovely. I 
 could never have loved her." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I can scarcely tell, except that she 
 frightens me. Yet what a little thing it is !" 
 
 '* She will make you love her," I thought, 
 as I saw that she intended to be introduced 
 to Lord Lorrington, now that the quadrille 
 was over. 
 
 I was right, for Sir Alfred came, as if to 
 shake hands with me, and he presented his 
 dazzling partner to the Marquis, and of 
 course he asked her to dance the next waltz. 
 She also spoke to me, and said that she was 
 glad to meet a relation of whom she had 
 often heard. 
 
 '' And you will waltz with me?" said Sir
 
 222 THE LOST RRIDE. 
 
 Alfred, in his soft, and, I felt, still loving 
 voice. 
 
 But Lord Woodford came up to remind 
 me of my engagement to him, whom I be- 
 lieve I should entirely have forgotten or 
 ignored, had he not. 
 
 "Then the one after," said Sir Alfred, 
 who did not dance that waltz. He stood 
 looking on at the dancers, and I felt dread- 
 fully annoyed at having such a bad partner, 
 that spoilt my dancing; while the Coun- 
 tess managed, with a kind of magic power, 
 to spin the little Marquis round so that he, 
 as well as herself, seemed scarcely to touch 
 the ground. 
 
 Lord Woodford urged me to dance the 
 following quadrille with him, after our 
 blundering waltz was over; and, in order to
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 223 
 
 see what was going on, and to fill up the 
 time, I accepted him. 
 
 The Countess danced in our quadrille with 
 a foreign prince, who seemed to be a most 
 devoted admirer; and Lord Woodford point- 
 ed out to me a tall, pale man, who stood 
 near, as Count Rossi. Such a look of misery, 
 or rather such a total indifference to all 
 around, as his handsome face expressed, I 
 never before witnessed. 
 
 " He is broken-hearted, they all say, and 
 even this great property they have lately 
 inherited fails to rouse him from that sad 
 state of apathy." 
 
 Sir Alfred afterwards gave me, during 
 our waltz, more details of the tragic end of 
 Dorina, the Count's first intended wife. He 
 also told me that he had the worst possible
 
 224 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 opinion of this wonderful Cunigunda, Count- 
 ess of Rossi, and pleased me by expressing 
 his certainty that she made away with her 
 rival. " She is capable of any wickedness," 
 he added. 
 
 *' And yet you seemed to admire her ?" 
 " As one admires a wondrous piece of 
 acting, or the beautiful picture of an evil 
 spirit, or as one is fascinated by some fatal 
 vice," he said, in a sad tone. 
 
 " Is play so very fascinating ?" I inquired. 
 ** People told me last night that you left 
 Lady Horatia's to indulge in your favourite 
 vice." 
 
 '*I think you could cure me of it." 
 There was a pause, and I waited in 
 breathless anxiety, thinking he was going 
 to say more ; but he looked so absent, as if
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 225 
 
 he almost forgot what he was saying, and 
 then made some observation about a young 
 lady's dress who was opposite to us. 
 
 " Could not that magic beauty, the fasci- 
 nating fair}^, cure you of it as well ?" 
 
 *' Cure me of what ? Now another turn," 
 and as we whirled round, his eyes expressed 
 far more than his words had yet done ; and 
 I began to think that some fatal engagement, 
 or other mysterious cause, really would 
 prove the barrier about which Lady Horatia 
 and all the others had hinted. He danced 
 twice afterwards with me, and, in spite of 
 his bad opinion of her, twice also with tlie 
 Countess that night ; but witli no one else. 
 
 VOL. J.
 
 226 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 T ADY HORATIA did not afterwards 
 
 express any disapprobation at my 
 
 dancing with him so often ; though the day 
 
 after the Duke of 's, she had said it was 
 
 quite wrong to dance twice with the same 
 person. She told me that Sir Alfred was 
 what everybody considered too fine to dance 
 with any one but the most decided beauty 
 of the season ; and she was therefore glad
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 227 
 
 that no one could say the Countess had cut 
 me out. 
 
 "Then it was not such a great honour to 
 be danced with by the Marquis or Duke as 
 with Sir Alfred ?" 
 
 " No ; because he is the most fashionable 
 man in London. He carries everything be- 
 fore him." 
 
 " And he said that I could cure him of 
 his passion for play," I thought with delight. 
 
 Lady Horatia was not introduced to the 
 beautiful Countess, although I saw the 
 sprightly fiiiry wished to make her acquaint- 
 ance. I think she asked Sir Alfred to in- 
 troduce lier ; and I found afterwards tliat 
 Lady Horatia liad civilly prevented him, 
 and several people, from doing so. 
 
 "I will not know her if I can help it,"' 
 
 q2
 
 228 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 said Lady Horatia, as we drove home ; " and 
 
 I advised the Duke of D not to invite 
 
 her to his ball — your first ball. She is a 
 powerful little creature, and I daresay will 
 make her way in spite of me ; and of course 
 she will never forgive me for keeping her out 
 
 of D House, which exclusion shuts the 
 
 doors of many others to her; and I am 
 more glad than ever that I did so, for I saw 
 to-ni<i;ht what a mischievous creature she 
 must be. How I pity that most interesting 
 husband of hers, who is too unhappy and 
 indifferent to be jealous of her. I suppose 
 she will never like to live at that beautiful 
 old place. Castle Hill? Yet it is a spot 
 which ought to revive the most depressed 
 or broken-hearted — such views over the ex- 
 tensive park ; and the house the most per-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 229 
 
 feet speeimen of the Tudor and Elizal)ethan 
 architecture in England, having the remains 
 of an old castle joined on to it, with secret 
 passages and mysterious trap-doors, and 
 priests' hiding-holes — every kind of romantic 
 association ; for it illustrates the history of 
 the times almost from the Conquest down 
 to the last century." 
 
 " How I should like to see it !" 
 " Perhaps you will some day, for it is 
 only ten miles from my old friend's the 
 Duchess of Dromoland, and she will tell you 
 of all the romantic stories attached to it, and 
 of the beautiful ghost whicli is said to appear 
 once in every century — a lady of King Ed- 
 ward the Third's time, who was built up in 
 the wall by a jealous husband. Count Rossi, 
 as well as his present wife, is a descendant
 
 230 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 of hers, and I fancied his handsome and 
 most melancholy face very like the picture I 
 saw at Castle Hill of the lovely ghost, Lady 
 ane. 
 
 " And was his first intended wife descend- 
 ed from that old family ? — for she was his 
 first cousin, I fancy." 
 
 " Yes, and by an elder branch, for she had 
 the first claim, and was heiress to all that 
 property, and her cousin Cunigunda, Count 
 Rossi's present wife, has succeeded as next of 
 kin. Their grandmother was a Roland, and 
 the beautiful Dorina was daughter of her 
 eldest son. I learnt all this from Lady 
 Charlotte Crofton : she always knows every- 
 body's history, and is very good-natured, yet 
 she too has a very bad opinion of that won- 
 drous Countess."
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 231 
 
 So had I, and her mischievous eyes, 
 which seemed to have never ceased looking 
 at me all the evening, haunted me still 
 with a strange mixture of dread and 
 horror. 
 
 In fact, the recollection of all she did and 
 looked then, seemed to absorb my mind to 
 the exclusion even of Sir Alfred ; and when, 
 at last, I went to sleep, I had a most pain- 
 fully vivid dream about her. Sir Alfred 
 was singing " Amor possente nome '' with 
 me, and I thought she came and, with icy 
 touch, drove me away, while Sir Alfred to- 
 tally disappeared ; and I saw Carlo rise out 
 of a kind of glowing fiery furnace, and gaze 
 at me with reproachful eyes. Then the 
 Countess covered me with a kind of flaming 
 veil, through which I dimly saw him sink-
 
 232 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 ing down into a yawning abyss of raging 
 fire, while her still icy fingers seemed 
 to press my throat till I became uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 At last I woke, with a feeling of indescrib- 
 able horror, and with the full conviction 
 that she was the cause of Carlo's apparent 
 coldness ; and a new feeling of bitter self-re- 
 proach at my desertion of him gained firm 
 possession of me. 
 
 Could he have fallen under her fatal 
 spell ? In one of his letters he said he was 
 going to Venice ; and now I remembered that 
 Count Rossi has an old place there. Could 
 that be the reason of his silence, and the ap- 
 parent coldness of his last letter ? Poor 
 Carlo ! could I ever love him again as I did 
 before ? Did he ever excite the wild kind
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 233 
 
 of entrancing joy that the presence of Sir 
 Alfred gave me? 
 
 I was obliged to confess that he had not. 
 Then why should I resent his desertion in 
 the perverse manner I had done ? Sir Al- 
 fred I was forbidden to care for ; even his 
 own words that evening — his absent man- 
 ner, after saying that I could cure him — 
 everything seemed to warn me that I must 
 not. 
 
 Was there ever such a strange fate as 
 mine ; and why did he fascinate me ? why 
 did the very idea of him fill me with such 
 intense delight ? So absorbed was I in these 
 deep questionings that hours passed after I 
 woke, and I never stirred till I heard some 
 one knocking at the door. It was twelve 
 o'clock. Ashamed of my apparent laziness,
 
 234 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 I hurried up, though still bewildered with 
 the startling surmises and self-reproach the 
 strange dream had caused.
 
 235 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PROPOSAL. 
 
 T T was now the height of the season, and 
 every night, and all day long, there 
 were parties to which Lady Horatia took 
 me. The pale poet gave the most delight- 
 ful breakfasts, where we met all the wits 
 and other celebrities. We met Sir Alfred, 
 and my two admirers, as Lady Horatia 
 called the little Marquis and Lord Wood- 
 ford, everywhere, and the beautiful Coun-
 
 236 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 tess Rossi much oftener than I liked. Still, 
 Lady Horatia contrived most cleverly to 
 avoid an introduction, although the Coun- 
 tess, being a distant relation of mine, spoke, 
 of course, to me sometimes, although in a 
 somewhat haughty and contemptuous man- 
 ner. The poet even relented, and she suc- 
 ceeded in appearing at one of his most 
 recherche breakfasts; and the excuses he gave 
 were that the Count, who was a great ad- 
 mirer of pictures, had expressed a wish to 
 see those at his house. Although I had the 
 greatest horror of her, I could not help 
 being glad when she was at the parties to 
 which we went, because I saw that Lady 
 Horatia was much more tolerant of Sir 
 Alfred's attention to me ; in fact, she could 
 not help enjoying the triumph of my sue-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 237 
 
 cess, and I saw that it blinded her to the 
 dangers she had hitherto apprehended. 
 
 Sir Alfred made good use of the oppor- 
 tunities of talking to me, and I became daily 
 more completely dazzled and fascinated by 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Mordaunt did not return from Lanoj- 
 dale Priory, but wrote to beg that Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt would join him in that neighbourhood, 
 as he was staying with some old friends; and 
 he hinted in his letter that he wished to re- 
 main a little longer, for various reasons. To 
 uur great disappointment he said nothing 
 about my new cousin, so we supposed that 
 he had not seen him. 
 
 As the house they had taken in London 
 was not quite ready, Mrs. Mordaunt was gUid 
 to join her husband at their old friend's;
 
 238 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 for, as she never went out at all in London 
 society, she became rather tired of being 
 alone every evening, and most part of the 
 day. 
 
 But Lady Horatia would not hear of my 
 leaving her ; and, in fact, I was now very 
 glad to remain, for besides having become 
 better known in the world in general, I 
 could not bear the idea of losing the oppor- 
 tunity of meeting Sir Alfred. Lady Horatia 
 spared no pains to induce me to look favour- 
 ably on the young Marquis, for she was most 
 anxious to make up the match, and I am 
 afraid that T often appeared more glad to 
 see him than I felt, in order to blind her 
 to my love for the man to whom she 
 objected. In fact, I was always acting a 
 part, and I knew that Sir Alfred was well
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 239 
 
 aware of it, for he rather encouraged rae to 
 treat him with apparent coldness when Lady 
 Horatia's sharp eyes were watching us. That 
 he loved me I felt convinced, and several 
 times he seemed on the point of proposing ; 
 and then he appeared to put a force on his 
 feelings, and most mysteriously checked the 
 half-pronounced words. 
 
 One night, towards the end of the season, 
 Lady Horatia was not very well, and she 
 
 sent me to a great ball at L House with 
 
 Lady Charlotte Crofton. Wlicther it was 
 that this was the first time he had seen me 
 without Lady Horatia, that this threw him 
 off his guard, or because the season was 
 drawing to a close, and we might not meet 
 often again — the words were said, my foolish 
 dreams were realized, and I felt that life
 
 240 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 henceforth would be for me an uninterrupted 
 course of bliss. 
 
 I was wildly joyous. I imagined that I 
 had never before known what real happi- 
 ness was ; but long afterwards I perceived 
 that the wild delight caused by the convic- 
 tion of his love was not the pure happiness 
 I had enjoyed when, under the salutary in- 
 fluence of Diy father's memory, I spent those 
 blissful months in his old home with Aunt 
 Jane. 
 
 However, at that brilliant ball I was per- 
 fectly satisfied as we went into the conser- 
 vatory after the enchanting waltz during 
 which the words were spoken. I could 
 imagine no happiness so great as mine. 
 The Countess Rossi was there that night, 
 and she had been dancing that same waltz
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 241 
 
 with a handsome foreign prince. I saw 
 that her malicious eyes were on me when 
 Sir Alfred had spoken, and that she per- 
 ceived by my irrepressible joy that he was 
 accepted. 
 
 I was too happy to be depressed by tlie 
 malignity of her look, but as we were going 
 away, and when Sir Alfred went to call the 
 carriage, she flitted past me, and putting 
 her mouth close to my ear, whispered into 
 it with a serpent-like hiss — 
 
 " Hai dimenticato I'amato Carlo ?" 
 
 I was so startled and bewildered, that for 
 the moment I lost my presence of mind, 
 and when I recovered my senses, and looked 
 for her, she was gone. 
 
 Then she did know him — poor Carlo ! — 
 and he had no doubt been fascinated by 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 her wondrous beauty. The sudden vivid 
 recollection of him which her words had 
 called forth, as if by some magic power, 
 made me turn pale, and a feeling of horror 
 and dread seemed to paralyse me. 
 
 When Sir Alfred returned, to say the 
 carriage was ready, he was quite frightened 
 at ray paleness. 
 
 " Whatever has happened ?" he said — 
 " you look as if you had seen a ghost." 
 
 " So I have, I believe," I said, scarcely 
 knowing what I was doing, for I felt as if 
 Carlo might suddenly appear at any mo- 
 ment, and reproach me for my desertion — 
 in fact, I felt as if Cunigunda's mysterious 
 power would separate me from the man I 
 now adored, and all I could say was to im- 
 plore him to come the next morning, for I
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 243 
 
 could scarcely believe in my happiness. 
 
 " Yes, at two o'clock I will come," he 
 w^iispered, as he contrived to press my 
 hand to his lips while at the dour of the 
 carriage. 
 
 Lady Charlotte chatted away as we drove 
 home, but I was so completely absorbed by 
 the exciting and bewildering occurrences of 
 the night, that I believe I neither heard nor 
 spoke a word. I had not been well for 
 several days, and the intoxicating joy of a 
 fulfilment of my wildest, most sanguine 
 hopes, and then the fact of their being 
 dashed to the ground by the strange words 
 of that malignant fairy, seemed to have liad 
 a most strange and bewildering effect. My 
 head seemed on fire, and Lady Horatia's 
 maid, who had most kindly .^at uj) for lue
 
 244 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 till my return, was quite frightened when 
 she saw me. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ought not to have gone 
 to that ball. I told milady so ; you had 
 your head echauffe^ and now you have got 
 la Jievre. I shall make a little tisane for 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 But the tisane had no effect ; my head 
 became worse ; I could not sleep, and when 
 Celestin came in in the morning, I was 
 raving in delirium. 
 
 Here I must leave myself, and relate in 
 the next chapter what I afterwards heard 
 of my state, and of the occurrences which 
 happened that day.
 
 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXr. 
 
 MISGIVINGS. 
 
 T ADY HORATIA sent for the nearest 
 doctor, who said that I had caught 
 scarlet fever. Just as the whole party was 
 thrown into the utmost consternation at this 
 intelligence, Mrs. Mordaunt, accompanied by 
 Norah Chandos, drove up to the door. They 
 had intended to have come up the day be- 
 fore to the house Mr. Mordaunt had taken 
 in the Regent's Park. They found Lady
 
 246 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 Horatia in the greatest state of consterna- 
 tion, being particularly afraid of infection ; 
 and of course she was preparing to leave the 
 house, and take her darling child away to 
 the country with all possible speed. The 
 carriage was ordered, and as soon as the 
 servants had packed up, they were to 
 follow. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt promised she would remain 
 and take charge of me ; and Norah, who 
 had had the same fever only the year before, 
 declared she would also stay vv^ith her, to 
 help to nurse me, for the doctor was afraid 
 I should be in some danger for many days. 
 Norah attended on me with the utmost 
 devotion, and endeavoured, by every pos- 
 sible means, to keep Mrs. Mordaunt away 
 from my room, for she knew that she
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 247 
 
 dreaded so much the infection that it was 
 all the more courageous of her to remain in 
 the house at all. 
 
 About a week after I was taken ill, I 
 awoke to a kind of dim consciousness, and 
 at times I began to feel the soothing effect 
 of Norah's gentle presence. She had ob- 
 tained the most extraordinary influence over 
 me ; and some days, when I had been 
 totally unmanageable by any of the nurses 
 or doctors, the sound of her voice, or her 
 light mesmeric touch, had apparently tran- 
 quillized me. 
 
 At last I became fully conscious of lier 
 presence, and asked her, as if awaking from 
 a most agonizing nightmare or dream, where 
 I was? I saw a delightful look oi' rcliul" on 
 her beautiful face ; but she motioned to me
 
 248 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 to be silent, and would not even answer my 
 question, but ordered me to shut my eyes 
 and go to sleep, and that she would tell me 
 everything when I woke. 
 
 I must have obeyed her orders without 
 knowing that I slept, for I remember that 
 the sun was shining brightly into the room 
 when I was awake ; and then, what ap- 
 peared to me the next moment, all was 
 dark except the dim flicker of a shaded 
 night-light. I looked anxiously round, and 
 then discovered the figure of Norah asleep 
 on a chair opposite my bed. But I had no 
 recollection as yet of anything that had 
 occurred before mv illness. 
 
 She looked so lovely in her graceful atti- 
 tude of perfect repose that I would not 
 speak, for I felt as if it was some beautiful,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 249 
 
 happy-making vision that might fade away 
 if disturbed by sound or touch. So I lay 
 perfectly still, with a soothing and delicious 
 consciousness of returning life — life without 
 anxiety or care ; and soon my imagination 
 travelled back to early youth and the de- 
 lightful walks with mv dear father through 
 the orange groves of Sorrento. I heard the 
 soft, lulling sound of the blue sea undulating 
 along the rocky shore ; I remembered even 
 words he had said to me in these walks. 
 Then I seemed transported to his old home, 
 and fancied I saw his more glorified form 
 leading me through the walks of the old 
 Priory garden, and pointing out to my en- 
 chanted gaze the ancient oaks and distant 
 tower of the village church. 
 
 I saw some of the old villagers, who had
 
 250 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 loved him so well, come and look joyfully 
 on his bright face, which seemed to be illu- 
 minated with a new kind of magically 
 harmonious light, such as I had never before 
 seen. I felt sure that it was his glorified 
 spirit form, and yet that I too had attained 
 a kind of spiritual state, and should never 
 be separated from him again. 
 
 All this I saw and felt more vividly than I 
 ever did when in the real places where I 
 fancied myself; yet 1 never lost sight of Norah 
 — she seemed to form a part of it, or rather it 
 was as if her lovely presence produced all 
 the enchanting feelings and impressions of 
 reality which surrounded me. 
 
 During my long life there is no fact of 
 which I have obtained a stronger conviction 
 than of the mesmeric power of goodness. I
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 251 
 
 had a strong perception of Norah's wonder- 
 ful charm in our first interview, but it was 
 long years afterwards that I knew the real 
 cause of this harmony and peacefully happy 
 feelinor the sig^ht and even the thou2^ht of her 
 had produced. No bad, proud, or passionate 
 feeling could be associated in my mind with 
 the idea of her, and I am certain that her 
 loving prayers and innocent presence had the 
 power, in those hours of my returning life, to 
 keep from my recollection and consciousness 
 all the period of my life when I was actuat- 
 ed by selfish and passionately perverse feel- 
 ing. 
 
 During the waking hours of that night, 
 my mind seemed fed by the recollection of 
 those parts of my life only which had been 
 passed in comparatively happy innocence.
 
 252 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 I scarcely reraembered Carlo except in ray 
 earliest childhood, when he used to clamber 
 up the rocks to pick my favourite flowers, or 
 carried me across the mountain torrents. 
 
 The wild selfish love which he had awak- 
 ened in my heart in later days, when also he 
 himself had become less good after my 
 father's death, had no place in my visions 
 that night, nor even the later tumultuous 
 passion which Sir Alfred had awakened. 
 
 Every feeling that had been caused by 
 disappointment or reckless perversity seemed 
 completely swept from my memory. I re- 
 mained in this blissful state of dreamy happi- 
 ness till the day dawned, and then Norah 
 awoke. 
 
 I saw her eyes open and look at me with 
 a kind of thankful expression, as if a load of
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 253 
 
 care had been taken from her mind, and 
 kneeling down by my side she took both my 
 hands in hers and placed them on her fore- 
 head. I saw and felt that she was returning 
 thanks to God for my recovery. I en- 
 deavoured to join in her prayers, and tried 
 to remember those I used to repeat in my 
 childhood. 
 
 Norah afterwards told me that she was 
 convinced that the fever had been made 
 much worse by some exciting or painful im- 
 pressions lately produced on my mind, and 
 therefore she would not allow me to talk or 
 ask her about anything that had happened 
 since I came to London. 
 
 She asked me about my mother, and, when 
 disposed to talk, she would make me describe 
 my home at Sorrento, and my father. Many
 
 254 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 days passed before she would allow me to 
 speak of Lady Horatia, or answer iny ques- 
 tions as to where I was, or how long I had 
 been unconscious. Thus under her judicious 
 management I gained bodily strength before 
 my mind was allowed to dwell on exciting 
 or painful thoughts. 
 
 But the awakening to evil, to mingled re- 
 grets and remorse, could not be for ever 
 staved away ; but the difference was that 
 the thought of all that was exciting was 
 now mingled with remorse. With the re- 
 collection of Carlo in our later years came 
 the conviction that I had neglected to abide 
 by my father's opinion of him. I had wil- 
 fully disregarded his caution, and would not 
 listen to his words of blame. I saw how 
 -guilty I had been when I shut myself up
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 255 
 
 after my father's death, and could not be 
 induced to comfort my mother, and shrank 
 from all exertion till Carlo came. 
 
 Then I felt there was an interval of com- 
 parative innocence during my convent life, 
 and, above all, in those blissful days when, 
 undermyhallowed fathers recollection, I liv- 
 ed at Langdale Priory. This was the brightest 
 spot in my life, and when I lost it, and al- 
 lowed myself to be absorbed in ambitious 
 dreams, all the bad passions of my nature had 
 been called forth ; I ceased to pray, I ceas- 
 ed to feel that I was under God's protec- 
 tion, and I gave myself up to the excitement 
 of a new passion, which had made me faith- 
 less even to the recollection of a man to 
 whom T had willingly pliglited my faith. 
 
 I felt conscious that I still loved Sir Al-
 
 256 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 fred, but my affection for him was changed 
 into an anxious wish and prayer that the 
 inherent good qualities of his mind and 
 heart might be called forth. I now saw 
 and felt that he was wasting his life in folly 
 and vice. I seemed to be constantly pray- 
 ing for him, but was quite surprised to find 
 how little anxiety I felt to see him again. I 
 seemed to dread lest I should again fall into 
 the kind of intoxicating adoration his fasci- 
 nation had caused, until I became more 
 fitted to help or guide him into a better path 
 of life.
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 NORAH S REVELATION. 
 
 QjOME days after I had recovered my 
 '^ consciousness, and, thanks to Norah's 
 care, still retained the feeling of peace with 
 which I had awakened to new life, Mrs. 
 Mordaunt came into the room and said that 
 her nephew, vSir Alfred Rivers, was in the 
 drawing-room. She gave this information 
 to Norah in the most unconcerned manner, 
 from probably knowing nothing of either her 
 nephew's or of my peculiar feelings, for she 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 258 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 had only once seen us together, and it was 
 not likely that Lady Horatia would have 
 expressed any of her fears on my account 
 to Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 Besides this, the world had for some 
 weeks past proclaimed that I was engaged 
 to the Marquis of Lorrington. I found 
 afterwards that the little Marquis had called 
 incessantly, and had often begged to be al- 
 lowed to see me, in spite of the infec- 
 tion. 
 
 " Sir Alfred is in waiting below," said 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, speaking to Norah, as if 
 she wished that Norah would go down to 
 see him; and, to my utter surprise, I saw her 
 beautiful face covered with most conscious 
 blushes, and her hand trembled so much 
 that she nearly let a cup of soup fall that
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 259 
 
 she was bringing across the room to me. 
 
 " Then you know him," I said ; and I 
 shall never forget the look of hope, mingled 
 with anxiety and joy, with which she re- 
 garded me, nor the thrilling tone of her "oh! 
 yes." 
 
 I must have turned pale, for she ran up 
 to me and inquired with anxiety what I felt. 
 
 " Nothing," I said ; " really I am quite 
 well ; do go down and see him." 
 
 " Does he know I am here, and does he 
 wish to see me ?" said Norah, in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " I did not tell him," said Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 " I don't know whether he knew it or not. 
 He came to ask how Miss Vivian was going 
 on, and I thought you might like to see him, 
 as I knew you often met last year." 
 
 s2
 
 260 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " But unless he wishes to see me I would 
 rather not go down." 
 
 " Well, I'll go and ask him," said dear, 
 matter-of-fact, and most unconscious Mrs. 
 Mordaunt. 
 
 " How very strange that he should never 
 have talked of you !" I said. 
 
 '^ 1 suppose he did not know we had met," 
 she said. And there was a slight and most 
 new sadness in her voice, which perplexed 
 me. 
 
 " Oh! do go down and see him," I im- 
 plored, for I longed to have the strange 
 mystery of Norah's evident agitation cleared 
 up. When she saw that I really wished it, 
 she went down with Mrs. Mordaunt. 
 
 Where could she have known him ? And 
 why had he never spoken about her ? And
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 261 
 
 why did Lady Horatia never say anything 
 about her to me ? The more I thought and 
 asked these questions, the more perplexing 
 it all seemed, and my agitation increased as 
 the minutes, which seemed hours, passed be- 
 fore she returned. 
 
 Norah must in some way have divined my 
 feeling, for the clock had only moved ten 
 minutes when I heard her light step hurry- 
 ing upstairs. She ran towards me, and 
 throwing her arms round my neck, buried 
 her face ; but I had caught a sad look 
 on it before she nestled her head on my 
 shoulder. 
 
 " You care for him !" I whispered, as I 
 kissed her dear little ear. 
 
 '' Do you ?" she inquired, as slic started 
 up, and looked, with a searching, tender
 
 262 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 gaze, into my eyes. I did not answer for a 
 few moments, during which the experience 
 of a whole life seemed to be centred, and 
 then I said, 
 
 '* You must have known him before I 
 did, therefore you must answer my question 
 first." 
 
 " He no longer cares for me, if he ever 
 did," said Norah, while the tears ran down 
 her cheeks, but by some marvellous power 
 her countenance still retained its cheerful- 
 ness, mingled with resignation, which was 
 most touching to behold. 
 
 "" He does — he must ! Do go down again 
 and see him. I felt sure there was some- 
 thing which prevented, and oh ! what a fool 
 [ was not to attend to Lady Horatia's — to 
 so many warnings !"
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 263 
 
 " Why, they did not tell you about me, 
 surely?" 
 
 " No, most unfortunately they did not. 
 They only said that I was like a moth 
 hovering about a light which would con- 
 sume me." 
 
 '* Then they had a bad opinion of him ?" 
 she inquired, with a sudden expression of 
 intense pain. 
 
 " I suppose so ; but under your influence 
 it would be quite different. I am not good 
 enough to help — to lead anyone right. But 
 is he really gone — gone without any expla- 
 nation ?" 
 
 ** I suppose so. Yes, I heard the street- 
 door shut as I came into this room, and I am 
 sure he would not remain." 
 
 I then gradually drew from her an
 
 264 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 avowal of all that had passed. She had first 
 met him two years before, at an aunt's 
 country-house, where they became very in- 
 timate; and she had first been drawn to love 
 him principally from feeling that she had 
 some strange influence over him. 
 
 He had been wild at college, although he 
 had taken a high degree, and some of his 
 most intimate friends were of a dangerously 
 profligate kind. He had been early left an 
 orphan, and had no near relations except 
 Mr. Mordaunt, who was not calculated to 
 have any strong influence over him. The 
 great-aunt with whom Norah was staying, 
 being a very unworldly and straightforward 
 character, would allow no engagement to 
 be entered into, '^ as Norah was only six- 
 teen," but added, that if both were in the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 265 
 
 same mind after two years, they were to be 
 allowed to marry ; and this plan was also 
 approved of by Norah's father as well as 
 herself. 
 
 In the meantime, it was agreed that no- 
 thing should be said about it ; so the attach- 
 ment was kept secret from everyone, except 
 two or three very intimate friends, and 
 among them was Lady Horatia, who took 
 the greatest interest in Norah, as well as in 
 the handsome youth. She was wise enough 
 to discover that Norah was exactly the per- 
 son possessing the marvellous firmness, 
 tact, and self-control suited to influence Sir 
 Alfred ; and she said at the time that, if 
 Norah had been her daughter, she would 
 have consented at once to their marriage. 
 
 It seemed that she was right as far as Sir
 
 266 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 Alfred was concerned, for, in consequence 
 of his disappointment, he fell more fatally 
 under the influence of his false friends, and 
 his extraordinary success in the fastidious 
 London society of that day helped to oblit- 
 erate the good which his attachment toNorah 
 had called forth. 
 
 Lady Horatia had watched him with in- 
 tense anxiety, and therefore saw with great 
 pain how strongly he had been struck by 
 me. But at first she hoped it was more 
 from the vanity of exciting the admiration 
 of '' the new beauty," as she called me, than 
 from any deeper feeling. But what she 
 dreaded most was my voice. Norah was 
 not accomplished ; she did not sing, and 
 music was Sir Alfred's specialty. The re- 
 port of our flirtation had never reached
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 267 
 
 Norah's ears, for she told me, if it had, slie 
 would have felt sure that he would be com- 
 pletely fascinated by my peculiarly Italian 
 style of singing. 
 
 " Oh ! if Lady Horatia had but told me 
 
 that first night at the Duke of D 's," 
 
 thought I, " that he had been attached to 
 Norah, what years of pain might have been 
 avoided !" 
 
 But Lady Horatia, though a quick reader 
 of character, had no deep knowledge of 
 human nature, and, moreover, was inclined 
 to think less well of it than it deserves. 
 She was not religious-minded enough to 
 know the value of real Christian training, 
 and gave credit to it for less influence than 
 it really possesses. Besides, she saw plainly 
 that I was not good, and, therefore, natu-
 
 268 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 rally judged that my spirit of contradiction 
 and jealousy would be awakened to acts 
 still more contrary to her wishes, if I thought 
 I could enjoy the additional triumph of sup- 
 planting another girl in his affections. She 
 told me afterwards she had been on the 
 point of not cautioning me at all for this 
 very reason about him, and regretted much 
 that she had done so, because she said that 
 it had the reverse effect from that she in- 
 tended. Moreover, through it all she did 
 not know my deep affection for Norah. 
 And now, to think T had been the means of 
 destroying the happiness of my friend — of 
 the most perfect nature I had ever met 
 with — of the being who called forth all my 
 best and highest feelings ! 
 
 The fact is, she was the most thorous^hlv
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 269 
 
 good person I had ever seen ; but, strange 
 to say, goodness is not generally deemed 
 attractive, and yet Norah's attraction was 
 caused by it ; and I maintain that real good- 
 ness is attractive, nor will it allow people 
 to be dull. The energy it imparts to enable 
 one to bear pain, to be cheerful in the midst 
 of adversity, to love all those around us, and 
 try to amuse or help them, is of itself en- 
 livening and beautiful — vivify in gly beauti- 
 ful ; and is farther removed from anything 
 approaching to dulness than any other 
 condition of being. There was a sparkling, 
 sprightly cheerfulness about her, caused by 
 an ever-abiding expectation of eternal happi- 
 ness, which was irresistibly cheering. 
 
 Even I, who was anything but good when 
 I first saw her, felt that her great charm
 
 270 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 was that she was immeasurably superior to 
 me in goodness, and that there lay the secret 
 of her influence. She was Scripturally 
 amiable — I mean that she habitually acted 
 and thought on " whatsoever things were 
 lovely," and that she was a living embodi- 
 ment of the real charity, or a/yaTrr]^ which 
 *' suffers long and is kind," and "thinks no 
 ill." You who have known something of my 
 despair, or believing nothing, fancy you 
 dislike these words — yes, however wicked 
 you may feel inclined to be, you would feel 
 in your inmost heart the positive charm of a 
 character formed on that model — you could 
 not help it. No so-called fast young lady 
 or gentleman, however clever or lovely 
 they may be, could instil the sort of ex- 
 hilarating cheerfulness Norah always con-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 271 
 
 trived to produce. She would never let 
 you be dull — she would make you feel hope 
 in the future, as well as present enliven- 
 ment. 
 
 Still, I hear some readers say, virtue is 
 decidedly dull. Wait till you are on your 
 death-bed (but perhaps you fancy that hour 
 will never come !), and see then what por- 
 tion of your past life appears to you most 
 dull or devoid of real happiness ; and you 
 will see that the only bright, and lively, 
 and shining spots are those in wliich you 
 did your best to follow up the precepts of 
 this much-despised goodness. 
 
 In my sixty-sixth year I went to a ball, 
 and all the so-called dandies and fine young 
 men declared that I was the brightest per- 
 son there. Several told some friends of
 
 272 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 mine that it made them happy to look at my 
 sprightly and bright countenance; and in 
 the matter of feeling really gay and full of 
 youthful enjoyment, I was in mind the 
 youngest of them all. The endeavour to do 
 right had certainly not made me look dull. 
 But I see every day more and more that 
 virtue is despised, and Revelation ignored. 
 I did not, however, attain the peace I now 
 enjoy till I had suffered many severe trials ; 
 and at that time — the period of my visit to 
 Lady Horatia — I was still in a far worse 
 state than I had any idea of at the time.
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 FAILURE. 
 
 /^UR conversation on that eventful day 
 was not half ended — I mean that I 
 longed to ask Norah a great deal more about 
 her engagement, or rather her affection, for 
 Sir Alfred, when we were startled by the 
 arrival of a telegram, which Mrs. Mordaunt 
 brought up to my room for Norah. It was 
 dated from Chandos Mount, and contained 
 these words : 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " Come home immediately^ your father is 
 dangerously ilV 
 
 Poor Norah, I well knew the deep and 
 all-absorbing affection she had for her father, 
 and could read the anxious misery her 
 quivering lips and tearless eyes expressed 
 as she hastily bade me good-bye. She was 
 too eager to be off, and too anxious to allow 
 herself the relief of tears. Her whole being 
 was in a state of suspense — prayerful sus- 
 pense, I saw plainly. She promised to let 
 me hear of his state, and, with marvellously 
 unselfish thought, she suggested to Mrs. 
 Mordaunt to take me to the house Mr. Mor- 
 daunt had engaged, as the change might be 
 of use, now that I was fast recovering my 
 strength. 
 
 So I was removed to the Regent's Park,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 275 
 
 and the day after our arrival there Sir 
 Alfred Rivers called, and hearing that Mrs. 
 Mordaunt was out, begged to be allowed to 
 see me. When I heard he was downstairs, 
 I determined to carry out the resolution I 
 had made during the conversation with 
 Norah. I would give him up — yes, most cer- 
 tainly I would — and endeavour to re-awaken 
 his love for that beautiful and most perfect 
 girl. So I went downstairs, half triumphing 
 in the feeling of unselfishness which prompt- 
 ed me, and half regretful at the greatness of 
 the sacrifice — for I loved him still ! But I 
 was still too prone to evil. I had no 
 strength to pursue the narrow and thorny 
 path which led to peaceful and eternal 
 happiness. 
 
 The fascination of his words, his looks, 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 counteracted the blessed influence that Norah 
 had exercised over me, and before many 
 minutes had passed in his presence, I found 
 myself re-engaged to him 1 Norah's love, her 
 devotion to me during my long illness — all 
 was forgotten. I seemed to live only for 
 the present, in my wild adoration for Sir 
 Alfred. Every other thought and recollec- 
 tion was swept away. I felt only a kind of 
 joyful exultation in being thus bound, and 
 in giving up all my resolutions of self-sacri- 
 fice. 
 
 The next few days and sleepless nights 
 were passed in this kind of unnatural and 
 fatal excitement, and then came a strange 
 and sudden reverse. I afterwards learnt 
 that something of the same kind of reckless 
 forgetfulness of his former love, and best
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 277 
 
 and highest intentions, had possessed Sir 
 Alfred, but the effect with him was in some 
 respects more fatal. 
 
 The season was now over ; he had more 
 unoccupied time, and he played so deeply 
 every night and lost such large suras — un- 
 known to me — that total ruin ensued. Part 
 of his property was strictly entailed, but he 
 had exhausted all resources, so that four 
 days after our engagement he was compelled 
 suddenly to leave England. 
 
 That very morning I had expected him 
 to come earlier than usual, for we had 
 arranged to spend the day at Richmond. I 
 had my bonnet on, the carriage was at the 
 door, and I was eagerly awaiting his arrival, 
 when Mr. Mordaunt came into the drawing- 
 room with a thunder-cloud on liis face, and
 
 278 TPIE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 handed me a note in Sir Alfred's well-known 
 writing, while he broke forth into a torrent 
 of invective against his nephew. This violent 
 abuse betrayed to me, even before I was 
 able to read the note, that he had fully ex- 
 pected this. He declared that he was cer- 
 tain his wife was wrong when she mentioned 
 that his love for me would reform him. 
 
 " I knew he ought to have kept his en- 
 gagement," he continued, '* to that poor 
 Norah. It is owing to his self-reproach at 
 having forsaken her that he has risked all 
 his remaining fortune. There, Miss Vivian, 
 you may thank yourself for this boy's ruin 
 and your own loss ; for Lady Horatia told 
 us that the Marquis of Lorrington wished to 
 marry you." 
 
 I had some difficulty in reading the blot-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 279 
 
 ted lines of this unfortunate note, and the 
 angry clamour Mr. Mordaunt kept up did 
 not assist my efforts to decipher it. 
 
 I was so stunned by the unexpected blow 
 that I could only take in that he was gone, 
 obliged to fly from his numerous creditors ; 
 but why, oh ! why could he not have permit- 
 ted me to accompany him in his flight ! This 
 was the wild and sinful thought that came 
 uppermost. " He could not love me with 
 the all-absorbing devotion I felt for hinj — 
 impossible!" I thought. 
 
 I was hastening from the room, with the 
 perverse intention of shutting myself up in 
 despair, of locking the door of my own room 
 as I had done in both the fits of utter 
 wretchedness into which I had before fallen, 
 when the humiliating thought flashed into
 
 280 THE LOST BKIDE. 
 
 my mind that I had no home, that I was 
 only a visitor in Mr. Mordaunt's house, and 
 that he was (as I afterwards saw) justly 
 annoyed with me for helping largely to ruin 
 his nephew. 
 
 I must leave his house at once ; and where 
 was I to go ? The perplexity of my strange 
 situation seemed to paralyse all my faculties, 
 and I sank down into a chair with a feeling 
 of utter helplessness. 
 
 '' I must go to my mother ; I have no 
 home in England," I sobbed. 
 
 *' No, no, not yet ; you are not fit to travel 
 such a long distance ; besides, I have just 
 heard that Miss Stanway is expected in 
 England, if she has not yet arrived, and I 
 know she wants to see you. In fact, I be- 
 lieve she hastened home on purpose, from
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 281 
 
 some reports she had heard about you." 
 
 Aunt Jane I how could I bear to see her 
 clear searching eyes, to be looked through 
 and through in the perverse state of mind in 
 which I had lived for many months. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot see her !" I exclaimed, as I 
 covered my face with my hands, as if to 
 hide it from every eye, and, above all, from 
 hers. 
 
 '* Not see her ? What a silly girl I Why, 
 she is the person of all others to advise you 
 best; why, you used to love Aunt Jane better 
 than you did any of us. And, by Jove ! I 
 verily believe that she is at the door," he 
 added, as he looked out at the window. 
 " Yes, there's the same old brown bonnet 
 and shawl l" 
 
 Oh ! what a vision of lost peace and hap-
 
 282 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 piness did the recollection of this old brown 
 bonnet and shawl produce. 
 
 The associations called up by it already 
 seemed to give me some degree of peace. 
 Mr. Mordaunt had rushed downstairs, and in 
 a few moments I felt that Aunt Jane's arms 
 were round my neck, although I still con- 
 tinued to cover my face with my hands. 
 
 She did not attempt to draw them away, 
 nor did she speak, but she softly kissed my 
 forehead, and stroked my head, with that 
 mesmeric touch of peace which some few 
 favoured mortals have the wondrous power 
 to give. 
 
 But pride and perversity had a sharp 
 battle in my breast before I withdrew my 
 hands and ventured to look up at Aunt 
 Jane's anxious face.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 283 
 
 It had a more anxious and severe expres- 
 sion than I thought it was capable of wearing; 
 but after a few moments her countenance 
 somewhat cleared, and she said, 
 
 " Poor child I she must still have much 
 to suffer ! — there will be a long battle ; but 
 I will not desert you again — you shall re- 
 main with me now till you can become 
 happy. 1 will take her away, Mr. Mor- 
 daunt — she shall go with me to Roland 
 Grange ; but that fatal engagement she has 
 made with Sir Alfred must be quite given 
 up." 
 
 ** He seems to have given it up," 1 ex- 
 claimed, with a kind of savage bitterness 
 which made Aunt Jane start. *' Look, look 
 at his letter. He only expresses regret — 
 there, read liis letter — he says nothing of
 
 284 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 hope — he evidently does not look forward — 
 does not express any wish ever to see me 
 *again." 
 
 *' So much the better," said Aunt Jane, 
 in a more severe tone than I thought she 
 could ever assume. '*You fully deserve 
 this, for I learn that you actually accepted 
 him after you knew of his former engage- 
 ment to your best and kindest friend." 
 
 After reading the letter I had given her, 
 with the same determined and severe look, 
 she placed ink and paper before me, and, 
 putting a pen into my trembling hand, said, 
 in a voice of strange authority, 
 
 "Write, write, and tell him that his 
 fancied engagement to you was quite a mis- 
 take — that you entirely release him, in case 
 he might possibly have any intention of
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 285 
 
 regarding it as serious. In fact, by his 
 letter, he does not seem to do so. It was a 
 passing fancy, and he resolved to have the 
 triumph of captivating a girl who had re- 
 fused the greatest parti of the day." 
 
 I wrote the words she dictated, though 
 my anger was fearfully excited. I wrote it 
 through with burning, tearless eyes. The 
 bell was rung, and the letter was despatched 
 to the post. Then I felt as if 1 had received 
 a sudden blow, which deprived me of rea- 
 son ; the room seemed to be turning round. 
 Aunt Jane's face, the blotting-book, all swam 
 in a confused jumble before my eyes, and I 
 became quite insensible.
 
 286 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 STUPOR AND STRANGE RECOVERY. 
 
 1 HAVE a very dim recollection of any- 
 thing that happened during the next 
 two months. Aunt Jane says that I was in 
 a kind of stupor, from which she was afraid 
 to arouse me. After the dangerous illness, 
 which would certainly have proved fatal had 
 not Norah watched over me day and night 
 with the most extraordinary care and skill, 
 and then the consciousness of my most 
 culpable and ungrateful engagement to her
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 287 
 
 affianced lover, which Aunt Jane had re- 
 awakened in my mind, — all this seemed to 
 have paralysed my faculties. She took me 
 down to an old half-uninhabited, and scarcely 
 half-furnished house belonging to her niece, 
 surrounded with fine oak woods, called 
 Roland Grange, so called from having been 
 formerly the dower-house of the ancient 
 family of De Roland ; but one of the 
 gambling earls half ruined the originally 
 vast estates, and many broad acres were 
 sold, although the family still possessed the 
 fine park and woods of the old Castle Hall, 
 about three miles from the Grange, which 
 belonged now to Cunigunda, Countess Rossi, 
 the sole representative of the time-honoured 
 faTnily, which was said to have sprung from 
 the celebrated Orlando sung by Ariosto
 
 288 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 and other poets ; or Roland, the hero of old 
 English romances. But I took, at the time 
 I write of, no impression of, nor felt any 
 interest about the place. 
 
 I had no impressions of anything. I 
 could neither read nor think, nor scarcely 
 talk. The doctor whom Aunt Jane con- 
 sulted gave her very little hopes of my re- 
 covery, but she told me afterwards that she 
 had felt convinced that, if I could become 
 stronger, my mental disease, or rather stu- 
 por, would be removed. She used to wheel 
 me in a little chair out among the woods, 
 when the song of birds sometimes appeared 
 to have a pleasant effect, and made* me (as 
 she said) look less miserable ; but I could 
 not endure the sound of music, and I shrunk 
 away from the sight of a pianoforte with a
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 289 
 
 shudder, and could not be prevailed on to 
 open or listen to it. She also took me to 
 visit some of the poor cottagers ; and the 
 first circumstance I remember was a visit to 
 an old blind woman, who expressed a wish 
 to pass her hand over my face, when, as I 
 afterwards heard, Aunt Jane had been de- 
 scribing it to her. 
 
 The peculiar tone of the old woman's 
 voice struck my ears, and seemed to waken 
 me up, as if from a long sleep filled with 
 painful dreams. I looked round with sur- 
 prise on the little homely room, and through 
 its open latticed window on the garden, 
 where the sweet-smelling flowers and bee- 
 hives, and the fine oak and beech-trees, re- 
 minded me pleasantly of some of my dear 
 father's cottages at the Priory. 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 There was a spinning-wheel near the old 
 woman, and after passing her hand over my 
 face, she began to spin with an abstracted 
 and thoughtful look. 
 
 "Where am I, and who is this?" I in- 
 quired, as I looked round to Aunt Jane, 
 and then felt as if I was astonished also even 
 to see her. 
 
 She then looked both pleased and sur- 
 prised, but, without answering my question, 
 inquired of the old dame what she thought 
 of my face. 
 
 " I canna tell, for it 'minds me so strong 
 of my own children — I mean my own 
 young ladies at the Castle Hall — that I 
 seem to live over again the years long, long 
 gone by. There was my Lady Jane Roland, 
 the sweetest babe that ever gladdened a
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 291 
 
 mother's heart ; and she was good, too — far 
 
 too good for But what am I saying? 
 
 Shame on me to breathe a word against any 
 of the old family I" 
 
 Then she stopped suddenly, and her com- 
 pressed lips seemed to show that she was 
 afraid of saying anything more. 
 
 " But I have heard," said Aunt Jane, 
 '* that Lady Jane's brother was anything 
 but good — indeed, very wicked — that there 
 were two kinds in every generation since 
 they came over at the Norman Conquest ; 
 and I am sure all tlie family pictures I have 
 seen at the Castle Hall tell the same story. 
 I never saw such a contrast as there was 
 between old Lord de Roland and his 
 younger brother, and that very Lady Jane 
 you reared was his sister." 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 '^ Alack-a-day ! and so there was ; and as 
 you know so much about the family, I canna 
 do no harm, and " 
 
 •' And I like to hear about them, and so 
 will this young lady, whose face reminds 
 you of them, and who is distantly related to 
 them ; for Lady Jane's daughter married, as 
 you well know, a foreign Count, who was 
 a relative of her mother's family." 
 
 I believe it was the old woman's mention 
 of Lady Jane Roland that effectually woke 
 up my attention, and roused my dormant 
 senses, and I seemed now to comprehend 
 for the first time that we were staying at 
 Roland Grange, which must be near Castle 
 Hall, the fine old family residence of the 
 Rolands, now belonging to the fatally fas- 
 cinating Cunigunda.
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 293 
 
 I then eagerly inquired whether they were 
 staying at the Castle, and was told that they 
 had not yet arrived, but were expected in a 
 few days, and that one of the wings of the 
 Castle had been fitted up for their recep- 
 tion. 
 
 Aunt Jane was overjoyed to see that I 
 took some interest in the place, and said she 
 would drive me over there to-morrow, that 
 we might see all the pictures, books, and 
 curiosities it contained before the family 
 arrived. 
 
 ''And what do you think about the 
 ghost ?" inquired Aunt Jane of the blind 
 woman. Her countenance altered, and she 
 suddenly stopped lier spinning-wheeh After 
 a few moments, she said, in a somewhat 
 solemn tone.
 
 294 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 " Far be it from me to tell or to doubt. 
 I have seen and I have heard. And now 
 
 they say the present lady is not But 
 
 maybe this beautiful young lady knows 
 better what her relative is like." 
 
 "Not one of the good race, I am certain," 
 said I, with quick decision. 
 
 " Ah! I see you don't like her; but did you 
 know the rightful lady ? I mean the Lady 
 Dorina, the one I heard was the very picture 
 of my Lady Jane — she who was lost the night 
 before she was to have married this very same 
 Count." 
 
 " No ; but I have heard the poor lost 
 bride was the most heavenly creature that 
 ever lived, as well as the most lovely, and 
 I have seen a likeness of her." 
 
 " Oh ! tell me," inquired the old dame ;
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 295 
 
 ** had she dark-blue eyes, with long, long 
 lashes, and a mouth that seemed formed 
 only to utter blessings, and light golden 
 hair, with long, waving curls, that flowed as 
 if they were going to twine round one's 
 finger in a loving embrace ?" 
 
 " Yes, the picture showed all this." 
 *' And a voice that made one feel in 
 heaven to hear it ; and a light fairy figure, 
 and step so cheering like, that I used to 
 fancy the flowers bloomed sweeter under her 
 beautiful feet." 
 
 The old woman continued for some time 
 to expatiate on the loveliness of her darling, 
 also to describe her daufrhter, who married 
 Count Hohenstein, and went away to foreign 
 parts, taking as her maid one of old Dame 
 Jestico's own children.
 
 296 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 This young girl had afterwards married 
 Count Hohenstein's groom, and her children 
 were brought up with those of her mistress 
 at the Castle of Hohenstein. Thus a com- 
 munication- had always been kept up, and 
 the old dame of course knew all the par- 
 ticulars of the mysterious disappearance of 
 the beautiful bride on the eve of her 
 wedding-day. Her (poor Dorina's) favour- 
 ite attendant, who was old Dame Jestico's 
 grand-daughter, had disappeared a few days 
 afterwards, and was said to have also 
 perished in the cave, in a vain endeavour to 
 find a clue to her mistress, or at least dis- 
 cover her body in the labyrinths of those 
 wonderful caverns. 
 
 Although none of the neighbours, or the 
 poor people round the old Castle of the
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 297 
 
 Rolands, had ever seen its beautiful heiress, 
 Dorina, yet their grief at hearing of her 
 tragic end had been very great. And their 
 regret was increased when, in the following 
 year, the Count, her fluher, died, and his 
 niece, Cunigunda, who had just niarried the 
 widowed bridegroom, Count Rossi, became 
 the next heir to the Castle and estates of the 
 ancient family of Roland. 
 
 It was well known that she was, in every 
 respect except beauty, tlie very reverse of 
 her cousin Dorina, and vague rumours were 
 sometimes heard that her jealousy and 
 malice had caused the bride's miserable end. 
 She had planned the ball wliich was given 
 in the wonderful caves near the Castle, which 
 were said to extend as far as Adlesberg, 
 under the Stvrian mountains, where ihc
 
 298 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 bride had disappeared, accompanied, it was 
 said, by an English gentleman. 
 
 For some time it was suspected by those 
 who were not intimately acquainted with 
 Dorina, that she had eloped with him, until, 
 many months afterwards, it was discovered 
 that he had fallen down into one of the 
 hidden caverns, and was picked up in a state 
 of insensibility by some robber, whose 
 daughter concealed him in their secret dens, 
 until he was sufficiently recovered to travel. 
 And then they only allowed him to depart 
 after he had taken a solemn vow never to 
 disclose their abode, nor to communicate 
 even his existence to the Hohenstein family 
 for some time afterwards. When this gen- 
 tleman, Mr., now Sir Edward, arrived in 
 England, and appeared among his friends,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 299 
 
 who had given him up as lost in the caverns, 
 his extraordinary escape gave some hopes to 
 the neighbours and tenants of Castle Hall 
 that Dorina might also have been saved. 
 
 Old Dame Jestico said that she never 
 gave up the hope of Dorina, and her own 
 great-grandchild, until she heard that Count 
 Rossi had married the Lady Cunigunda ; for 
 she had heard often from her grand- 
 daughter that he was most deeply in love 
 with his betrothed — in fact, tliat lie wor- 
 shipped the very ground on which she trod, 
 and had always been the most devoted 
 lover ; and it was the remark of everyone 
 that they were made for each other. But 
 Cunigunda was always jealous, and though 
 she seemed to be very fond of her cousin, 
 Ulrica said she was certain that she hated 
 the beautiful bride.
 
 300 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE ROLAND FAMILY. 
 
 fTHHE next day we drove to Castle Hall, 
 and I was enchanted with the beauty 
 of the Elizabethan house, and its situation 
 among the fine woods at the bottom of a 
 steep hill, which was surmounted by the 
 towers and ruins of the ancient castle. The 
 most perfect and highest of these towers 
 was supposed to be Roman, and, as in many 
 other English castles, is therefore called 
 Caesar's. It is built at the edge of a high
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 301 
 
 perpendicular rock, and its lofty battle- 
 ments, and a beautiful oriel window in its 
 upper story, project over the river, which 
 rushes round its base, and then forms a 
 lake at the bottom of the terraced gardens 
 far below. 
 
 The comparatively modern house was 
 partly built in Henry VII. 's time, had receiv- 
 ed several additions in succeeding centuries, 
 and was placed half way down the rocky 
 height ; but some of the old Castle buildings 
 extended down the least precipitous side of 
 it, and joined the present dwelling. One 
 of these had been the ancient Castle chapel, 
 afterwards turned into a banqueting room 
 by a certain Earl Hugh, who was called 
 
 the black devil of , and had died of 
 
 apoplexy at the first banquet he gave there.
 
 302 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 Above this, a range of building, nearly entire, 
 wound round the side of the height, and 
 joined the whole to Cassar's tower. 
 
 We drove up to the entrance of the Hall, 
 and the grand old porch door was opened 
 by Aunt Jane's old friend, Mrs. Lacy, the 
 housekeeper, who received us with stately 
 curtseys and dignified smiles of welcome. 
 She was nearly eighty, and had lived in the 
 family ever since she was born, being the 
 foster-sister of one of the Earls of Roland. 
 We entered a vast hall, which was said to 
 be the most modern part of the whole, 
 erected in James the First's reign. The 
 lofty ceiling was beautifully carved, and 
 ornamented with pendent bosses and colour- 
 ed shields, showing the numerous quarter- 
 ings of the Rolands. The walls were all
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 303 
 
 covered with armour, shields, helmets, and 
 banners, won in the Crusades and other 
 wars. 
 
 Mrs. Lacy then took us into a long suite 
 of rooms, filled with old pictures and tapes- 
 try, and all kinds of picturesque cabinets and 
 old furniture. Then we went up the grand 
 old oak staircase to a long gallery, which 
 extended for more than a hundred feet along 
 the western side of the quadrangle, and 
 from some of its deep bay windows we had 
 a good view of the park — a real Englisli 
 park, which reminded me of my own dear 
 Priory woods ; but the scenery was finer 
 here, from the hills being higher, and the 
 dells more rocky and steep. 
 
 Then we went to the library and the blue 
 drawing-room, which were on a still higher
 
 304 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 level, and joined the hall with some of the 
 old castle buildings. 
 
 A picture of Vandyck over the carved 
 chimney-piece in the blue room riveted my 
 attention more than anything I had seen, 
 for I recognized at once its striking likeness 
 to the portrait I had seen of the Countess 
 Dorina. 
 
 This was the beautiful Lady Jane Roland 
 which the blind woman had so well describ- 
 ed, and I found that Mrs. Lacy also remem- 
 bered her, and had the same admiration 
 for the lovely Countess. 
 
 While I was looking at the picture I heard 
 Aunt Jane ask Mrs. Lacy what door that 
 was at the opposite end of the room, and 
 whether any use was ever made of the old 
 buildings beyond. As I looked in the di-
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 305 
 
 rection Aunt Jane pointed, I found that Mrs. 
 Lacy's countenance clianged, and a look of 
 embarrassment and perplexity overspread 
 her fair old face. After a little pause, she 
 said, 
 
 "No, ma'am, no use was ever made of 
 those rooms in mv time, nor mv mother's 
 either, and she was housekeeper for sixty- 
 six years, before I succeeded lier." 
 
 " Is it because they are said to be haunt- 
 ed ?" inquired Aunt Jane. 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but the floors of many of 
 them are gone, and the windows have no 
 glass ; and the dead-room, which looks into 
 the upper courtyard, has not been used since 
 the ^ood Earl Lawrence was laid out in state 
 then, when I was quite a child, and the roof 
 was said to be unsafe." 
 
 VOL. L X
 
 306 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 "And the Chapel or Banqueting Hall — 
 why is that never shown ? It must be a 
 splendid room, from the appearance of its 
 windows. I remember looking down upon 
 it when I once mounted to the top of Caesar's 
 tower." 
 
 " That's not safe either, I have heard, 
 ma'am." 
 
 " And the ghost of the wicked Earl 
 Hugh is said to haunt it, and now I hear 
 that a lady appears, too, sometimes. Is that 
 supposed to be the ghost of this lovely crea- 
 ture?" inquired Aunt Jane, as she pointed 
 to the portrait of Lady Jane. 
 
 " No, ma'am," said Mrs. Lacy, with a 
 serious and somewhat proud look ; " she was 
 far too good to become a ghost. It is poor 
 Lady Alice vvlio was not quite — but, ma'am,
 
 THE LOST BRIDE. 307 
 
 you must excuse me, for I never like to talk 
 of any but the real, downright good ones of 
 our family." 
 
 " And Lady Alice has been seen lately, 
 has she not ?" 
 
 '• Have you heard so. ma'am ?" she said, 
 with a look of alarm. 
 
 " Yes; the village gossips say that she has 
 been seen often during this last year, and 
 that strange lights appear up in the ruined 
 windows of the old castle on <lark nights — 
 even in the oriel that projects over the tor- 
 rent, and to which there is no staircase. So 
 it must be a ghost tliat lights it up then,"" 
 said Aunt Jane, with a smile. 
 
 " Do they say so, indeed, ma'am ? Well, 
 
 I do wish that However, the Lord's will 
 
 be done ; it is not l"or me to wish or think — "'
 
 308 THE LOST BRIDE. 
 
 '' Do you regret that the family — that the 
 Count and Countess Rossi are coining here?" 
 
 '' I certainly ought not," said the old 
 dame, decidedly, and as if she was deter- 
 mined not to say anything more ; and there 
 was something in the way she seemed to 
 check the utterance of her thoughts that re- 
 minded us both of the blind woman's words 
 when speaking of the family. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWEI.L, BJ.ENHKIM HOL'SF, 
 
 v3^
 
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