.7-; r- f- if 
 
 *-:^'-^'' f:
 
 V. 
 
 LIB I^A RY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N I VLR5 ITY 
 or 1 LLl NOIS 
 
 ^^

 
 
 Departure of Tiemenhere— p. 48.
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 Al^NETTE MAKIE MAILLARD. 
 
 , .. ^T-KirT?A THE GYP SET," ETC. 
 AUTHOR OV "TilNGEA i±±-i 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 GEORGE Pv 
 
 LONDON; 
 OUTLEDaB S. CO EARRMGDON STREET.
 
 MILES TEEMENHERE. 
 
 For such a lore, Rachel! years are few, and life is short ! " — Lopez de Vega. 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNETTE MARIE MAILLAED. 
 
 AUTHORESS OF '-'TnE COMPULSORY MAKRIAGK," " ZINGRA THE GIPSY," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON; 
 G. EOUTLEDGE & CO., FAREINGDON STREET. 
 
 1853.
 
 M'CORQUODALE AND CO., PRINTERS, LONDON. 
 WORKS— NEWTON.
 
 8^3 
 
 TO 
 
 ERASMUS WILSON, ESQ., F.R.S 
 
 IT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST PRIVILEGES OF AUTHORSHIP, 
 
 TO BE ENABLED TO OFFER A PUBLIC TRIBXTTE, 
 
 HOWEVER HUMBLE, 
 
 TO THOSE WHO CLAIM OUR RESPECT : 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS DEDICATED TO ONE—THE PATRON OF STRUGGLING TALENT, 
 THE FRIENT) OF THE POOR- 
 ONE, WHOSE FRIENT)SHIP IS AN ESTEEMED HONOUR . 
 
 THE AUTHORESS.
 
 MILES TPtEMENHERE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Tick tack, tick tack, tick tack — for ever goes the 
 large hall clock, until my heart (imitative thing !) plays 
 at pendulum with it! Seventeen long years that clock 
 has been the monitor of Time in this old house. It 
 commenced its career the day I came into tliis world, 
 and, faithful to its trust, not for one hour can I remem- 
 ber its pausing. They say it ceased its vigilance one 
 day; I do not remember it, but Aunt Dorcas once told 
 me — only once, for she cried so bitterly that I never 
 liked askino; more about it. It was the one in which I 
 became an oi-phan! My poor mother died, and they 
 stopped it because its ticking reminded them of the day 
 of my birth, when she bade them open her door to let 
 her hear the fiiend whose career commenced -vN^ith my 
 life — the fnend who was to lead me to be good and 
 happy, warning me of every passing hour! Poor, dear 
 mamma! I wish I had kno^Ti her — oh, how I wish that 
 VOL. L B 
 
 9
 
 MILES TREMEXnERE. 
 
 now! — for though my aunts and uncle Juvenal are very 
 kind and loving, yet 'tis not like a motlier's love, I feel that 
 — I feel so much yearning for that unknown thing; it must 
 be so beautiful, but one step below divinity in its hallow- 
 ing power; and I, wicked girl, have been chiding the old 
 hall clock, which she had a fanciful thought to make 
 my twin!" Here the girl (for such was the speaker) 
 paused awhile in her soliloquy; after a few moments, 
 she continued : — " But His wearisome to sit for days 
 and days, with only the same routine of events w^hich 
 you have known for years; even the variety of the past 
 six months offers no amusement. The lawyer, the 
 parson, and the squire — the squire, the lawyer, and the 
 parson — with my aunts Dorcas, Sylvia, and uncle Juvo- 
 nal, each one chanting the praises of his or her pet. I 
 daresay it is very wTong of me to think all tliis; but I 
 don't love them less, my dear aunts, my kind uncle. 
 Oh ! especially him and aunt Dorcas; but I cannot like — 
 rather I should say love — the squire and the young clergy- 
 man, even for theii* sakes. I didn't want to think of 
 love yet; but they have set me thinking, and now I am 
 always dreaming of the sort of man I shoidd like. If 
 tlierc be heroes in the w^orld I should like to find one — 
 such a one as I could love, taU, liandsome, dark, dark! 
 Yes, dark raven hair, and Spanish eyes, pale and thought- 
 ful, especially" Here the soliloquy was disturbed 
 
 by a shrill voice beneath the window, calling upwards 
 from the garden, "IVIinnie, Mnnie, child!" 
 
 " That's aunt Sylvia," said the soliloqiust quietly. " I 
 will not answer, for if I do, I know she will want to go
 
 MILES TKEMEXHERE. 3 
 
 for a ramble somewhere, and we sliall assm'edly meet 
 the lawyer." 
 
 The voice below continued its smnmons, but in the 
 distance; the caller evidently was seeking thi'ough the 
 garden. 
 
 " I wonder when my cousin Dora vnR come," said the 
 ^linnie of Sylvia's seeking again. " And I wonder if 
 she is veri/ handsome; they say so: — though only tlu'ee 
 years older than myself, I was always afraid of her, even 
 as a child. She was so tall and commanding, though but 
 a girl of fifteen then — now she's twenty; and she looked 
 so stem, with her proud curling lip which never smiled ; 
 even at play, her play was queenly and condescendino-. 
 I see her now, when she was at her gymnastic exercises ; 
 how graceful she looked flinging upwards the hoop, which 
 always returned unen-ingly to the stick, as if it durst 
 not disobey her will. Mine often rebelled, and fell yards 
 off; and, vrhilst I put myself in a fever to catch it, she 
 was calm and pale, and if she involuntarily sprang up- 
 wards to meet it, with what a calm grace she lighted on 
 the toe of one of her tiny feet with the obedient toy in 
 her keeping! There was pride even in that action, for 
 her foot seemed to disdain the earth. It was the only 
 thing I disliked in Dora, her pride as a child; it awed 
 me. I hope it will not do so now. I want to love her. 
 We cannot love where we fear, and I hope she "^all love 
 me whenever she comes ; and yet I feel so nervous at 
 
 the thought of seeing her, though" Here another 
 
 voice arose on the ear; this, too, came from the garden, 
 "^linnie, Minnie; where are you, ]Minnie?" it said.
 
 4 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " That's my uncle Juvenal," whimpered the girl, peep- 
 ing through the window, with its antique panes and 
 narrow casement, " and he's not alone. I guessed as 
 much. IIow he can like Manuaduke Burton, the squire, 
 I cannot imagine." 
 
 " Minnie," cried a soft voice, evidently in the direction 
 of the great hall clock, "are you up-stairs, dear?" 
 
 "Dear aunt Dorcas," whispered the girl softly; "shall 
 I go to her?" She moved towards the door of her 
 chamber. At that moment, from beneath her mndow, 
 arose a hum of voices, and Sylvia's shiilly tones called, 
 "Minnie;" then a man's, but a very weak one, and 
 rougher accents, syllabled her name; these latter ones 
 not calling, but in conversation, and they said, "Mss 
 Dalzell." The one so anxiously sought sat do^vn, and 
 laughed gently to herself. "My aunt and uncle, and 
 their pets! Which shall be mine? Whom shall I 
 marry? Fate, direct me!" and, mth a playful air, she 
 took up a bracelet of large coral from her table, and 
 commenced counting. " The last must be my choice, I 
 suppose: let's see, coral! Whom will you favour?" 
 And thus she ran on, a bead for each name : " The 
 squire, the la^vyer, the parson; the squire, the lawyer, 
 the" — here the string broke, and her lovers rolled in 
 confusion on the floor! "Alas! and alas!" she cned, 
 with much gravity, surveying the scattered beads, 
 " none of them? Well, when I have a lover, I'll string 
 him on the chords of my heart; and when they fail and 
 let him down to earth, why, J shall be there too, in my
 
 MILES TEEMENHEEE. 5 
 
 grave, my heart's strings broken: that's how I under- 
 stand love I " 
 
 " My dear child, why did you not answer me?" asked 
 a quiet-looking, elderly woman, entering her room. " I 
 have been seeking you every where." 
 
 " Dear aunt Dorcas," said Minnie, throwing her arms 
 tenderly round her neck ; " I was afraid to reply, for 
 my uncle and aunt Sylvia are in the garden — not alone 
 either — and they would have heard me." 
 
 " Who is there with them at this early hour, dear?" 
 As she spoke she released the girl's arms, and seated 
 her beside herself on a couch, affectionately holding 
 both her little white hands. 
 
 "Oh I" rejoined Minnie, "that horrid Marmaduke 
 Burton, and Mr. Dalby, the lawyer; and I dislike them 
 both so much, as they appear noicT 
 
 " How do you mean, child?" 
 
 "Oh! why — as — as — lovers. No, not lovers — suitors." 
 
 "Where's the distinction, ^linnie?" asked her aunt, 
 smiling. 
 
 Minnie looked down and blushed ; then, looking up 
 half timidly in the other's face, replied, " I think a man 
 may take it into his head to pay you attention, wishing 
 to marry you, but he does not love you for all that ; and 
 I think, if a man really loved you, he wouldn't talk so 
 much about it. ^Ir. Burton says he's dying for love," 
 — here she smiled roguislily, and peeped up in her aunt's 
 face ; " and he certainly has nothing of death from grief 
 about him ! "
 
 6 3IILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 "Well, the lawyer — what is your objection there?" 
 " Oh, he's ten thousand times more objectionable ! 
 Mr. Burton is only a commonplace squire, looking like 
 one in his top-boots, talking like one, and mth a loud 
 voice proclaiming himself lord of the manor, rooks, 
 hounds, horses, and wliippers-in ! I don't think he's a 
 bad man, yet there is something unreadable too about 
 him, which debars confidence in liis goodness; but he's 
 a very disagreeable person, always reminding me of 
 aunt Sylvia's glass of bark in the morning — an amiable 
 invention, but most unpleasant to the palate. But !Mr. 
 Dalby, — oh! he's quite another thing! — thing he is; too 
 finical to be a man, too useless to be a w^oman, he is a 
 compound of mock sentiment and unamiability; he 
 dravfls out his words, looking you sideways in the face, 
 never giving you a bold, earnest look; he treats you 
 like a sugar-plumb, and seems afraid of melting you by 
 the fervour of a full-face regard, and he never has a 
 kind or charitable word for any one; he's an insinuating 
 creature, but not in my case, as he endeavours to be." 
 '^ Hush, INIinnie, you must not judge hastily or harshly." 
 "I don't, dear aunt," and she loosed one gentle hand, 
 and put her arm round the other's neck; "but I have 
 noticed so many unamiable traits in liis character — but 
 aunt Sylvia thinks him perfection." 
 
 " I suppose I must not now speak of my protege — our 
 young clergyman?" 
 
 Minnie looked embarrassed. "Dearest aunty," she 
 said at last, "I don't want to marry; I'm very happy: 
 why so earnestly seek for one to take me away from
 
 MILES TEE3IEXHEKE. 7 
 
 you all?" Mr. Skaife is sincere, I believe, in sayin"-, 
 he likes me; I like liim as an acquaintance, but I 
 ghouldn't like to marry him. He's \evy good, kind, and 
 charitable, I daresay; but I think he Avants that sacred 
 fire vrhich, in his sacred calling, makes the chilly ap- 
 proach, to cheer themselves by the gloT\dng warmth." 
 
 " Oh, my dear child ! your heart has not spoken, this 
 is the truth; when it speaks, may it be for a worthy 
 object — that's all I pray. / like ^Ir. Skaife: for my 
 sake, dear, try and do so likcA^'ise." 
 
 Before a reply coidd be given, the bedroom door 
 opened wdth fi*acas, and amit Sylvia suddenly appeared. 
 She was totally different in appearance to her sister. 
 Dorcas was plirnip, good-tempered, meek-looking, about 
 forty-five years of age. Sylvia was some five years her 
 senior; a little, thin, shaip-faced woman — one whose 
 very cbess looked meagre ; not the richest brocade could 
 appear rich on so shapeless an anatomy ; it would trail 
 on the ground, limp, and disheartened from any attempt 
 to look well. She had the strangest eyes in the world — 
 a dark, dingy, chestnut broAvn, of which the pupil was 
 certainly not larger than a pin's head ; thin nose, thin 
 lips, thin hair, hands, and voice, completed aunt SyMa — 
 mth the addition of the very thinnest mind in the world. 
 It was like a screw-press ; put any thing bulky ^^-ithin it, 
 it was compressed instanter to a mummy, and thence 
 doled out in such small particles, that it was inevitably 
 lost in the general mass of which aunt Syhaa was fonned. 
 
 " I declare, !^Ennie," she whistled forth in her shiilly 
 tone, "you would provoke a saint; here have I been
 
 8 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 calling you at the top of my voice this hour, and you 
 must have heard me ! Really, Dorcas, it is too bad ; you 
 always encourage the child — you, too, must have heard 
 me." 
 
 "I have only been here a few moments," placidly 
 answered her sister. 
 
 " Then your conversation must have been most en- 
 grossing, for such deafness to have fallen upon you!" 
 and she looked suspiciously from one to the other. 
 
 " We were speaking of " 
 
 Before Minnie could complete her sentence, her door 
 opened a third time, and admitted uncle Juvenal. AYe 
 will only say of him, that he was the bond of union be- 
 tween the two sisters ; not stout, not thin, not cross, not 
 quiet ; older by three years than Dorcas, younger by two 
 than Sylvia, being forty-eight ; prim, snuiF-coloured, and 
 contented, having but one desire in the world — the one 
 common to the three, to see Minnie a wife. A wann 
 discussion ensued between him and Sylvia, relative to 
 some words which had passed between the squire and 
 doctor, fostered by theu' mutual hopes of gaining ]Minnie, 
 which hope was encouraged — nay, the niece promised to 
 each — by his patron and patroness. Now, Juvenal 
 came to seek the cause, and chide her propensity for 
 loneliness; and while he and Sylvia were warmly de- 
 bating their disputed points, Dorcas and Minnie crept 
 out of the room, and the former gained the day this 
 time, for she and her niece, this latter with only her 
 garden hat on, left the hall by a side door, accompanied 
 by ]VIr. Skaife, who had been quietly waiting — it might
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 9 
 
 have been by Dorcas's cognizance — in a shrubbery 
 through which they passed on a visit of benevolence. 
 Juvenal and Sylvia, finding the bh'ds escaped, descended 
 to the garden, when they discovered that the same thing 
 had occurred respecting the squh'e and la^vj^er; both 
 had disappeared. So the brother and sister sat do^NTi to 
 talk it quietly over, which terminated as all previous 
 talkings on the same subject had done before — by their 
 completely disagreeing in their respective views, and 
 consequently faUing out ; in other words, having a vio- 
 lent quarrel. And poor httle ^linnie — the subject of all 
 these commotions — was quietly walking towards the vil- 
 lage ^^'ith her aimt Dorcas, and her selection of a suitor, 
 ]\Ir. Skaife, who, to do him justice, was the most sincere 
 lover of the three ; he cared but little whether ^linnie 
 were rich or poor, provided she could be brought by any 
 means to look smilingly upon him. He was only a poor 
 curate, ^twas true ; but then some day he hoped to be, 
 perhaps, a bishop — \Mio might say? And in either or 
 any case, he woidd have chosen her to share all ^vith him. 
 Perhaps she had been correct in saying he did not pos- 
 sess the sacred fire necessary for his calling ; but that 
 fault lay to the account of his parents, who had possibly 
 brought him up to the chm'ch as a mere profession, 
 when it should be a yolimtary choice. If, as she sup- 
 posed, he did not possess the fire necessaiy for martyr- 
 dom, if summoned to that glors', he certainly did the 
 fire of love for the fair gvA beside him ; and while she 
 wished he were any thing but a lover, both for the sake 
 of a certain pleasure she felt in his company, and for her
 
 10 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 aunt's sake, he was wonderini; whether he ever should 
 win her ? — when ? — and how ? — and in this mood they 
 walked on. Many long years before our tale commenced, 
 a certain country gentleman named Formby and his wife 
 were the residents at Gatestone HaU, the fine old- 
 fashioned place we have just quitted ; they were homely 
 and primitive, and \^dthal majestic as the oak-panelled 
 walls of the hospitable home which gave a welcome to 
 many a guest in that portion of her Majesty's domains 
 called Yorkshire, where the "canniness" of its inhabitants 
 consists most in the almost unparalleled method they 
 possess, of winning the way to the heart by kindness and 
 genuine homely hospitahty, of which ^Ir. and ^Irs. 
 Formby were weU-chosen representatives. They had 
 five children — four daughters and one son. They 
 never troubled themselves as to whether these would 
 marry — that was an affair of nature, and nature was 
 handmaiden at Gatestone Hall. However, art — or 
 some adverse god or goddess — crept in, and marred her 
 course. Of five, only tAvo obeyed her law. Juliana, 
 the eldest, a fine dashing girl, attracted the attention of 
 the Earl of Kipley at a race ball; and, six weeks after- 
 wards, became his Countess. The youngest of all, 
 Baby, as they called her (Jenny was her name, to the 
 amazement of her family, which appeared impressed 
 with the idea, that baby she was, and ever woidd re- 
 main), married, at seventeen, a poor half-pay officer for 
 love; and true love it was. The little god likes poverty 
 best, after all ; he generally nestles there, though the 
 song says otherwise. The only change this mamage
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 11 
 
 made at the Hall was, the addition of another iinnate to 
 its cheerful circle. Lieutenant Dalzell became located 
 there for seven months — veiy short ones they were, too — 
 with his sweet, loving ^^dfe; and there, poor fellow I he 
 died of an old wound won in India, which shattered an 
 arm, and obhged him to quit the service. Poor Baby 
 cried like one; nothing could console her, not even the 
 birth of Minnie some months afterwards: so she cried 
 herself into the pretty green churchyard, beneath a 
 yew-tree, beside Dalzell; for, poor girl ! — almost a child 
 still when he died — begged so earnestly that they 
 wouldn't shut up her WiUiam in the cold stone family 
 vault, but put him where the sun might sliine upon him, 
 and the green grass grow, that he had a grave under 
 the bright canopy of heaven, and there, beside him. 
 Baby lay; and only that day, and the one of his death, 
 did the old haU clock cease its rounds by her desire. 
 Then ^Ir. Formby soon followed, and bus wife, leaving 
 three unmarried children, and these three we have seen 
 as bachelor and spinsters still. TYhatever the two sis- 
 ters may have thought of matrimony, assuredly Juvenal 
 had given it no part of his dreams by day or night. 
 Their spinsterhood might have been involimtary of their 
 inchnations, but there was no law to prevent liis asking; 
 and, had he done so, assuredly he might have had some 
 one at aU events, for, though not a rich man, he was 
 Lord of Gatestone, which would only pass away fi'om 
 the grasp of himself or heiis should he die childless, of 
 which there seemed now every chance. Caps of every 
 possible coloiu*, like fly-traps, were set to catch him, by
 
 12 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 all the spinsters and widows of the neighbourhood; 
 carriages of every description drove up to the Hall, 
 with inmates perfectly free, able, and willing; but when 
 they left, the only impression behind them was of their 
 carriage-wheels on the gravelled drive. Now all these 
 attacks had become considerably diminished, as time 
 had shown their inefficacy. Strange to say, though 
 Juvenal had evinced no desire to marry on his own 
 part, all his energies (they were not legion) were called 
 into play to effect an union for his much-loved niece; 
 and still stranger, that the three, loving her as they did 
 love her, should have one only thought in common, and 
 be all equally bent on the same scheme, which might 
 probably separate her from them for ever. But it is the 
 course of a Christopher Columbian current in our blood, 
 to be always desirous of exploring some unknown terri- 
 tory. Such was matrimonial ground to them, and they 
 felt curious to watch its eiFect upon others, personal ex- 
 perience being denied, or not desired by themselves. 
 Minnie was sadly perplexed among them; — they forced 
 her to think of marriage, when she otherwise would 
 have been much more innocently employed; and, unfor- 
 tunately for them, she had not the slightest idea of con- 
 densing all her thoughts on any one of those whom they 
 had chosen. The lawyer pressed her hand — the sqiure 
 conferred the same honour on her toe, as she stepped 
 on his hand to mount her horse; and the most sincere, 
 as it is ever the case, stood half awkwardly aloof, and 
 sighed as he whispered to the winds, which blew it
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 13 
 
 heaven knows where — "Pretty Minnie Dalzell I I shall 
 never Tvdn her; she's too fan- for a poor curate's home !" 
 Pretty she certainly was, and fair — fair as the bright- 
 est lily tinged by a sunbeam dancing across, but not 
 staining, its pmity. Such was the tint that flew over 
 her cheek, every moment new and changing; the pretti- 
 est Hp, such a short upper one that the mouth scarcely 
 closed upon teeth of shining whiteness, hke a mother-of- 
 pearl shell wet from the spray, so fresh they looked. 
 Her eyes were of dark violet, with lashes and brows 
 darker than the hafr, the former so long and thick they 
 w^ere Hke a setting round a gem; beautifrd eyes, which you 
 lost yourself in looking into, wondering whence came the 
 piu-e, clear hght, which lent them so much chaste fire — 
 yet they were fidl of soul too. In the forehead, the 
 blue veins wandered like silvery streams through a 
 daisied meadow, giving life to all; — there was the bloom, 
 grace, and poetry of the rarest and brightest bouquet of 
 flowers ever collected together, in that noble brow, and 
 in the ever-changing expression of her sweet face; and 
 above aU, her coronet of magnificent hair clustered in 
 rare brightness; — it was not golden, yet it shone like it; 
 nor flaxen — it had too much expression in it for that. 
 It was such hair as only a creature like ^linnie could 
 have. It seemed as if an angel had spun it in the sun, 
 and waved it by moonhght. 'Twas fair, chaste-looking 
 hair, fit for dew spirit's gems to hang upon. You took 
 it in your hand, and it was* flossy as unspun silk, and 
 this unbound fell to Minnie's heel, and yet so phant and
 
 14 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 soft, that her little hand could bind the mass round the 
 beautiful head with ease and grace. She was not tall, 
 but about middle height, perhaps a trifle more; slight, 
 a mere fjiiry in figure, and the springing foot sconied 
 the earth like a flying gazelle. Talk of her marrying a 
 mere mortal — she should have lived when angels are 
 said to have loved the sons of men. The curate thought 
 of this; so no wonder he sighed, even encoiu'aged as he 
 was by Aunt Dorcas.
 
 IIILES TIIEMENHERE. 15 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 It was in the month of June, the early part, when 
 May-ilowers still bloom, and the blossoming trees are 
 not yet in full matronly beauty, but in then- bridal 
 robes, A^-ith ■v>Teaths of flowers, 111^:6 robes of dazzling 
 whiteness, that ]Minnie and her two comjmnions walked 
 on (for she loved one and Kked the other), her heart 
 giving the rein to all her wild Arab-colt thoughts of 
 nobility and Hberty. She had nothing to conceal ; all 
 was pure and beautiful in her mind, sunny and hopefid. 
 They were going to visit one of Aunt Dorcas's pen- 
 sioners, and on ^linnie's pretty arm hung a basket of 
 charitable gifts, ti^uly such, for they were appropriate to 
 "die wants of those for whom they were destined. Gifts of 
 thought and consideration, not merely donations from a 
 full purse or plentiful larder. On they journeyed, until a 
 lane appeared before them ; the girl turned do^vn it. 
 
 " Stop, ^Ess DalzeU," cried Skaife hastily ; " we had 
 better cross the path-field." 
 
 '' 'Tis longer round," she rejoined ; " aunt Dorcas 
 will be th'ed, and this is a favchn'ite walk of mine," and 
 she moved on. 
 
 "You should obey yom' pastors and masters," he 
 answered, smiling, and yet he seemed embarrassed;
 
 16 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 " and, as one of the former, I don't command, but may I 
 ask you to cross the path-field, it looks so inviting \vith 
 its tall gr-ass ; and see, there's a pet of yours — a lark 
 rising upwards to allure you." 
 
 " Aunty, will it be too far for you? No? then we 
 will oblige our pastor." 
 
 " Skaife looked delighted as he assisted Aunt Dorcas 
 over the stile. Minnie was over like a sportive thistle- 
 down blo^vn by roving breeze; scarcely had she stepped 
 on the other side of the stile when a little girl followed 
 her, passed, and stopped beside Mr. Skaife. 
 
 " Oh, if you please, good sir," she said, " my mother 
 saw you passing at the end of the lane, and bade me 
 run after you with this book ; you left it at poor sick 
 Mary Burns' s," and the child tendered a book. Both 
 Aunt Dorcas and Minnie stopped, ]\Ir. Skaife was 
 colpnring and confused. " Thank you," he answered, 
 liurriedly taking it ; " that will do." He endeavoured 
 to pass on. 
 
 "And if you please, sir," continued the child, " mother 
 bid me say, that after you left Mary Burns at three this 
 morning, she was so much comforted by your kind 
 words and reading, that she slept for hours, and when 
 she awoke promised mother never to try and kill herself 
 again." 
 
 " Wliat is this, dear?" asked JNIinnie, placing a hand 
 on the child's shoulder. 
 
 " Nothing, never mind. Miss Dalzell," said he ; " let 
 us continue our walk."
 
 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 17 
 
 "No," answered she; " I am curiousj I wish to know. 
 " "^Yliat was it, dear?" 
 
 " If YOU please, miss, poor ^lars^ Bm^ns tried to drown 
 herself yesterday, and ^Ir. Skaife jumped into the water 
 and saved her, and he sat by her all the day yesterday, 
 and came again in the evening, and remained until three 
 this- morning, comforting and praying to her, and " 
 
 "It was only my duty," he replied, now perfectly 
 calm, and in a cold tone. 
 
 " Noiv I understand," said Aunt Dorcas, " why you 
 declined dining with us yesterday;" she felt how much 
 he self-sacrificed in not spending the privileged hours 
 of dinner near her niece, especially as he was seldom 
 invited by her brother. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Skaife I" cried ^linnie, her eyes swimming, 
 as she held out her ungloved hand and grasped his; 
 " forgive me. I have been a wicked, wrong-judging*" girl. 
 I said you did not possess the sacred fire necessary for 
 yoiu- calling ; forgive me, you are folloTvdng an example 
 in meekness, not arrogantly dictating one — forgive me !" 
 
 Skaife coidd scarcely speak as he pressed her hand. 
 
 " Now," she said almost gaUy, to remove his embar- 
 rassment, " let me follow up this Avholesome lesson to 
 myself by an exercise of charity : we vnW. go and see Mary 
 Bums ; come, dear aunt ; " and once more she was at 
 the other side of the stile, and^half-way down the lane 
 \rith the child, before they overtook her. ^Ilnnie and 
 her aunt entered the humble bed-room of poverty, alone. 
 ]Mr. Skaife left them at the door of the cottage to pay a 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 MILES TllEMEXHERE. 
 
 visit in the neighbom-liood. From a neighbour sitting 
 there, to take care of the paralytic mother of Mary 
 Bm'ns, they learned that the unfortunate girl had been 
 di'iven to attempt the dreadful act of the previous day, 
 on account of the cruel desertion of one who had led her 
 from the path of right ; he led her into darkness, and 
 left her there to fight her way through shadows to the 
 end of a dreary maze, without a word to cheer, or a 
 thread to guide her footsteps. There was no one to teU 
 her of a far off light, which with much seeking and sor- 
 row she assuredly woidd find. Nothing but despair 
 around her, she flew to death, a sad tiling to meet in 
 our unrepentcd sin ! It was to this poor wounded heart 
 that Mr. Skaife brought life and balm. Though humbled 
 and sorrowing, the girl was hopeful now ; she did not, 
 however, allude to the one whose desertion had mad- 
 dened her. Aunt Dorcas forbore questioning her too 
 closely, seeing her evident desire to withhold her sedu- 
 cer's name ; and poor Minnie sat and wept. She had 
 learned two lessons that day ; not to judge too hastily 
 from a calm exterior, as in the case of !Mr. Skaife's warm 
 heart, and that there are sorrows in this world leading 
 often to suicide or madness, hybrids of opposite things 
 — Kionfidence and deceit. They quitted the cottage, 
 promising to see the unhappy girl shortly, and as Minnie 
 bade her cheer up and not despond, she leaned over the 
 low pallet of misery, leaving a better gift in the sight of 
 Heaven than the purse she hid beneath the pillow — a 
 sister's tear over a fallen sister; for are we not all one 
 large family ? and of children, too, ever learning some-
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 19 
 
 tliinor new — Earth our scliool, Heaven our home — with 
 glad faces to rejoice over our coming tliither, when our 
 weary lessons here shall be over! ^Ir. Skaife joined 
 them outside, and, by mutual consent, none alluded to 
 poor ^laiy Biuns ; but ^Minnie tiumed smihngly to the 
 young cm-ate, and spoke more kindly than she had ever 
 done before, as he walked beside her, her aunt leaning 
 upon his arm. However, they parted from hhn before 
 arrivinir at Gatestone, and the aunt and niece entered 
 the old hall together, to receive a double fire of indignant 
 reproaches from Sylvia and Juvenal, though the latter 
 was one Avho appeared ever more inchned to weep than 
 scold ; he became whining and lacrymose when injiu^ed 
 in any way; he did not stand up boldly to fight his 
 enemy; there was something decidedly currish in his 
 disposition. " I do tliink," he began, " that I am hardly 
 treated as master here ; no one obeys or consults me ; 
 Dorcas goes out without saying where she's going, taking 
 [Minnie \vith her ; and Sylvia blames me for supineness ; 
 — how can I help it ? — and Marmaduke Burton blames 
 me too, and threatens never to come again." 
 
 "Well, that woiddn't much signify," said Sylvia, 
 bluntly. " I don't like Mr. Burton ; he's cunning and 
 sarcastic ; you would do much better to attach yom'self 
 to Mr. Dalbv, he is a channinfr man." 
 
 " I don't like Dalby," hazarded the Tvretched man in 
 his thin voice ; " he has a significant manner of talking 
 wliich makes me quite uncomfortable ; I always fancy 
 some one is g-oins^ to law with me, or that I shall be 
 forced into an unavoidable lawsuit."
 
 20 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 " Tallv:ing of that," said Dorcas, hoping to change the 
 current a Httle, as all was more or less directed against 
 herself and niece for their escapade, " does ^Ir. Burton 
 say any thing more about his threatened suit with his 
 cousin. Miles Tremenhere ?" 
 
 " Dear me, no !" answered Sylvia ; " ]\Ir. Dalby says 
 that affau' is quite at an end ; this illegitimate cousin has 
 wisely left the country; they never hear even of him." 
 
 " I sincerely pity him," replied Dorcas ; " it Avas a sad 
 affau', and his father was much to blame, leaving him so 
 long in ignorance of the truth ; it was most painfuL" 
 
 "What's that, amity?" asked Minnie. 
 
 " Well, dear ! the manor-house belonged some eight 
 years since to a Mr. Tremenhere, a cousin of the sqiure's, 
 as they call him ; this Tremenhere had an only son, a 
 very fine, noble-hearted young man, beloved indeed by 
 almost all, though very haughty to those he disliked. 
 He attained his twenty-first year; the rejoicings were 
 gi'cat at the manor-house; you were at school at the 
 time ; a month passed, and the father died ; scarcely wats 
 he in his grave, when Marmaduke Burton amved, a dis- 
 tant cousin of Miles's (the son), and disputed the property 
 with him. After a tedious and painful investigation and 
 suit, as no proof could be produced of Mr. Tremenhere's 
 marriage with Miles's mother, whom he was said to have 
 maiTied at Gibraltar, ^liles lost the fortune, manor, all, 
 and quitted the country." 
 
 " Poor Mr. Tremenhere !" said ]\Iinnie, much affected; 
 " what a drcadfid thing for him ! and where is he, aimt ?" 
 
 " No one knows, I beheve, except it may be one or
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 21 
 
 two persons, tenants of his father's, who have boldly op- 
 posed yh\ Burton in eveiy way for his treachery, and 
 upheld exiles Tremenhere." 
 
 " Oh, that was nobly done !" cried the gui enthusias- 
 tically. 
 
 "^Miat do you mean by treacheiy?" exclaimed Ju- 
 venal and Sylvia in a breath ; both joined together in 
 one common cause against Dorcas, who indeed was 
 only kin by name. 
 
 " Well, I call it treacherous, mean, and wicked," she 
 answered decidedly, "his having been IMiles's com- 
 panion and playfellow from youth, and indeed in the 
 house but a few weeks before old ]Mr. Tremenhere' a 
 death; and scarcely was the breath out of liis body, 
 when he put forth a legal claim to the property as next - 
 heir, which claim had been prepared, as it was proved, 
 months before the old man's death." Minnie sat 
 thoughtfully Hstening, but her colour came and went, 
 lilie the sun passing over a landscape on a showeiy day. 
 
 " It is very evident," said Sylvia sarcastically, " why 
 you mention this now before the child — to disgust her 
 "s^ith Marmaduke Bmlon; it is kind and sisterly towards 
 your brother, who desires the match." Sylvia gained 
 two things in tliis speech — she never spoke imadvisedly. 
 She pointed out the squire's position more forcibly to 
 her niece; and also, by a counter-stroke, enhsted her 
 unseeing brother on her side. 
 
 "Exactly so," whined he ; "but that's always the way 
 with Dorcas; she's very cunning." 
 
 " I'm sm^e dear aunt is not that," cried ^klinnie, start-
 
 22 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 ing up, her face glowing, and putting an arm round her 
 neck. 
 
 "What business have you interfering?" exclaimed 
 Sylvia ; " you should listen, and say nothing." 
 
 " Aunt Sylvia," said the girl, calmly reseating herself, 
 " as it seems all this discussion is about me, I am forced 
 to speak, and say, too, that I'd die rather than ever 
 maiTy Mr. Burton I" 
 
 " That's your doing," rejoined Sylvia, nodding at her 
 sister. "I'm sure Juvenal has reason to be obliged 
 to you; and as regards you, Minnie, I sincerely 
 msh you were married, for you are the cause of 
 discussion and dissension every day, not here alone, but 
 between friends. There's Marmadidve Burton and Mr. 
 Dalby, who were inseparables until you returned six 
 months ago from school, and noAV they scarce speak 
 civilly to one another!" 
 
 "Were they friends?" asked Minnie, opening her 
 eyes, " Oh, then — " she did not finish the sentence, but 
 the curhng Up spoke what she meant. 
 
 " Can the child help that?" said Dorcas, deprecating- 
 ly. Sylvia felt as if she had been an indiscreet general, 
 and was on the point of retorting with acrimony, when 
 a step was heard on the gravel outside the window, and 
 one of the subjects of the recent debate wallved in — 
 the squire. 
 
 " Here I am again," he said, familiarly leaning on the 
 window-sill; "came round through the shrubbery. 
 Oh! Miss Dalzell," and he moved his hat, "this is in- 
 deed a pleasure; one seldom sees you."
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 23 
 
 Plad love called up the blood from her heart to her 
 cheek, a lover might indeed have rejoiced in the glow; 
 as it was, the bright flush, coloured brow, cheek, all, and 
 the hp curled, and eye fixed cold and stem, shedding an 
 icy hand of scom over that young face, as she merely 
 bowed her head in reply. ^larmaduke bit his lip, then 
 tuniino* to Dorcas, said, blandlv smilino;, " And vou too, 
 ^liss Dorcas, are a stranger; I trust I see you well?" 
 
 "Quite so, I thank you," she quietly rejoined, 'Olin- 
 nie and I have been stroUing out together." 
 
 "Did you call upon Mrs. Lilly?" asked SyMa. "I 
 promised to do so : she will think it unkind." 
 
 "No," replied her sister; "we did not go near the 
 village." 
 
 " We went," said ^Imnie, raising her head boldly, 
 "with Mr. Skaife, to see a poor girl he saved from 
 drowning herself yesterday." As she spoke, somehow 
 her eye fixed itself on the squu'e ; her thought in doing 
 so was, to show him, at all events, no distaste on her 
 part to the society of another, however she might avoid 
 him. Was it annoyance at this decision of manner 
 which made him turn so pale, and his voice tremble 
 slightly, as he inquu'ed, " May I ask where ?" 
 
 "It was poor Widow Burns's daughter," answered 
 Dorcas ; " it is a sad affair, but, thank Heaven, ^Ir. 
 Skaife saved the poor girl's life I" 
 
 "Shot! Shot!" called Biui:on, quitting the window 
 X)n which he had been leaning, and tirrning to seek his 
 dog; "here, sir; come here; lie there!" and the animal 
 howled beneath the lash of his master s wliip. When
 
 24 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 he returned to the window he was calm as usual, cold 
 and sinister in appearance. 
 
 " Won t you come in. Burton?" asked Juvenal, going 
 to the window, wliich looked over the wide-spreading 
 lawn, with its old, majestic trees in clusters, and the 
 cattle browsing beneath them ; " won't you come in?" 
 
 *' No, I thank you," he replied carelessly. " I merely 
 strolled this way to incpiire about Mss Dalzell's health 
 in person, as I have so seldom the pleasure of finding 
 her at home. Charity, that cold dame, has nnich to 
 answer for, in depriving us, as she does, of her society." 
 
 " You would scarcely term her co/J," answered Min- 
 nie, " had you witnessed the gratitude of ^lary Burns 
 to-day, towards IMr. Skaife." 
 
 " 'Pon my word !" rejoined he, in a cold, cynical tone, 
 " your parson, Formby (he addressed himself to Juve- 
 nal), is a preux chevalier ; something new in the colour 
 of his cloth!" 
 
 " Is humanity new ? — or his act unbecoming his call- 
 ing?" quietly asked Dorcas. 
 
 '" I am scarcely competent to answer you. / have a 
 gTcat dislike to display : things quietly done, in my 
 opinion, look most meritorious." 
 
 " Oh ! " Minnie beo-an. 
 
 " Pray, let us change the subject," said Sylvia angrily. 
 " I'm tired of your charities and dro\^^led pei*sons. It 
 always happens that the one who saves, manages most 
 cleverly for his deed to be kno^^Ti where he thinks it will 
 benefit him." 
 
 "For shame, Sylvia!" said Dorcag.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 25 
 
 *• Of course/' rejoined Biu-ton, Avith an uncertain, un- 
 easy glance, " you had a pathetic account of the cause ; 
 the poverty, the " 
 
 " It was not poverty alone," answered Dorcas ; " but, 
 with your peniiission, we will drop the subject." 
 
 " 'Tis best," he replied carelessly ; " these people are 
 tenants of mine, and, I fear, bearing no yery good name : 
 we must get rid of them." 
 
 " Talking of that," asked Juyenal, " haye you suc- 
 ceeded in ejecting that fellow Weld?" 
 
 "Xo; I fear it will be impossible. His lease is 
 good, and was only just renewed for twenty-one years 
 when " 
 
 He paused : something withheld him fi'om uttei'ing 
 the name of Tremenhere that day : ^linuie's speaking 
 eyes were fixed upon him. 
 
 Ah ! yes ; I see," rejoined Juyenal ; " it is yery 
 
 a 
 
 annoying. 
 
 " The impertinence of a low fellow like that, must be 
 galling," suggested Sylyia. 
 
 ''What is he i^uilty of?" asked Dorcas, who was 
 nearly as much in the dark about many things as ]Minnie 
 herself, associating as little as possible Avith the squire 
 or Mr. Dalby. 
 
 " V»Tiy," answered her brother, " fancy the insolence 
 of one of Burton's tenants, whose grounds adjoin his 
 OTNTi, who presumes to pass liim AA-ithout eyen touching 
 his hat ; and had the audacity to tr^' and raise a sub- 
 scription, to which he offered to giye largely (for hun — 
 being only a small farmer), to find out the impostor.
 
 26 MILES TREMEXnERE. 
 
 Miles Tremenhere, and support his claims in another 
 suit to recover the manor-house !" 
 
 " Such audacity, indeed," chimed in Sylvia, " in a 
 low farmer ! " 
 
 ^^I wonder," said Minnie, looking up in seeming 
 calmness, but the warm heart beat, " whether the 
 smooth-barked poplar has more sap in it than the rough 
 gnarled oak ?" 
 
 "Good gracious, child!" answered Sylvia tartly; 
 "what do you know about trees?" 
 
 " I was not thinking of trees, but mew," rejoined the 
 girl quietly. 
 
 *^Then what did you say ^trees' for?" asked Juve- 
 nal, surprised. 
 
 "Because, uncle, they represented men to my thought. 
 We know that education and associations refine; but I 
 wonder, whether the rougher class of men was created 
 nearer the slave or brute than the poplar of my thought; 
 whether men are slaves by birth, or to a superior force 
 which makes them such, and makes them bow even their 
 free opinions in subjection to a mightier, not better 
 power." 
 
 "Minnie, dear!" cried Dorcas taking her hand, 
 startled by her unusual warmth. 
 
 "I see Miss Dalzell is rather ruffled to-day," said 
 Burton, taking off his hat ; " so I will say adieu. Ladies, 
 your servant; Miss Dalzell, I kiss your hand, even tliough 
 it smite me : Formby, will you give me a call to-morrow?" 
 and, without awaiting a reply, he whistled his dog, and 
 hurried away. It would be vain to attempt portraying
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 27 
 
 all the indignation lavished by Juvenal and Sylvia on 
 theu' niecCj who sat, however, tolerably calm beneath 
 the fire. She was used to these discussions, and these 
 perhaps, and the necessity of upholding her right against 
 being forced into an unhappy maniage, had made her 
 more thoughtftil, and less girlish, with them than her 
 age warranted ; with Dorcas, she was an innocent child, 
 and this was her natm-e. With those where she felt the 
 necessity of calling her firmness into play, she became 
 almost a thoughtful woman; and while they discussed, 
 !Marmaduke Burton's thin, taU, spare figure walked 
 thouohtfidlv homewards, and the narrow brow contracted 
 still more over the smaU grey eye, wliich, with the high 
 Eoman nose, gave him the appearance of a bird of prey. 
 He was only thui:y, but looking some years older; he 
 had assumed the dress of a country squire ^ith the as- 
 sumption of that title, and one was as illegal as the other, 
 and sat as uneasily upon him. The top-boots seemed 
 ashamed of his tliin legs, and shrunk from them. Those 
 things generally grace the jovial country gentleman, 
 yeoman, or farmer; on Marmaduke Bmi:on they were 
 as misplaced, as ringing a s^A-ine Avith gems, to give a 
 homely metaphor to a homely subject. There is one per- 
 son at Gatestone to whom we have not yet introduced 
 our readers; let us hasten to repair the omission. This 
 personage is l^lrs. Gillett, the housekeeper. All three, 
 Juvenal, Sylvia, and Dorcas, involuntarily bowed down 
 to her opinion. ^AHiy, it would be rather diflicult to 
 define, except, perhaps, that as a matron she acted 
 powerfully and sustainingly on these spinster and bache-
 
 28 MILES TREMEXnERE. 
 
 lor minds. AVhatevcr occurred to any of them, was 
 immediately laid before Mrs. Gillett to decide upon; 
 she was the repository of all their secrets, and, strange 
 to say, never betrayed one to the otlier ; slie heard all, 
 kept all, and agreed with all — consequently her position 
 was both difficult and dangerous. Sometimes she met 
 with an unforeseen rock, one of those we not unfrequently 
 may have been called upon to pass over on the beach 
 going to or from a boat at low tide, covered with sea- 
 weed, wet, slippery, and fuU of holes, in which the sea 
 water has lodged. Well, over one like this Mrs. Gillett 
 often had to pass; she slid right and left, sometimes her 
 shoes filled vdth water as she stepped into a hole; at one 
 moment she was nearly faUing into the sea, but some- 
 how Mrs. Gniett got safe to the end of the rock, di'ip- 
 ping and uncomfortable 'tis true; but she gained her 
 boat, and put out to sea, the oars at full play, and the 
 sail at the prow, like snow in the sun, all * taut,' as sailors 
 say, and 'bellying out' gallantly before the wind. To 
 sum up her character in a few words, she was the 
 essence of a thousand weathercocks infused into one. 
 Even Minnie owned a sort of deference for this busily 
 employed dame; but this Avas scarcely to be wondered 
 at, it had grown up with her, and been originally en- 
 grafted on lier childish mind by means connnon and 
 pleasant to childhood — namely, sweetmeats and sugar- 
 plums. ^Irs. Gillett had the very snuggest housekeepers 
 room in the world, looking into the extensive kitchen- 
 gardens at the back of the hall, and thither flocked her 
 /Notaries. She was a woman of nearly sixty, but robust
 
 MILES TEEMEXHEKE. 29 
 
 and active; no modem fasliion liad disturbed her style 
 of dress ; her ' go^\Tid,' as she still termed it, was three- 
 quarters high, the gathers behind were set out by what 
 oldfashioned ladies term ' a pad,' that is, a thing like a 
 quarter of a yard cut off a sand-bag at the bottom of a 
 door; the whitest muslin handl^erchief in the vrorld was 
 pinned across her well-conditioned bust, confined close 
 to the throat by a brooch set roimd with pearls, con- 
 taining a lock of the deftmct Mr. Gillett's hau-; her cap 
 was of lace like snow, high-cro^vned, ribbonless, but ^dth 
 broad lace strings pinned exactly in the centre by another 
 brooch smaller than the first— a sort of a hoop, the first, 
 as she told every one, that she had ever possessed. 
 StoiT and Mortimer might not admu'e it, but she did. 
 A white apron completed tliis attire, not a Frencliified 
 thing ^^ith pockets, but a genuine old English one, 
 gored and sloped, perfectly tight all round. As she sat 
 in her liio;h-backed chair (jivino; audience to her visiters, 
 she was a pictiu-e. She was the only person who had 
 advocated the cause of matrimony to Juvenal — it was 
 dreadful to her the idea of the old place passmg away to 
 another branch of the family. When her bones had 
 been more capable of locomotion, she had visited all the 
 neighbouring housekeepers for miles, on some pretext or 
 another, to find a wife for Juvenal — but in vain. ' His 
 bent was not matrimony for himself, and he cared but 
 little who should inhabit Gatestone after his death. His 
 sisters were strangely indifferent, too ; they did not like 
 the place especially, and, should they survive him, 
 proposed residing on a small property of their o^mi near
 
 30 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 Scarborough. Thus all their united energies were 
 directed towards the settlement of their niece. She 
 was tlieir plaything, just as her poor mother had been 
 eighteen years before. ^Irs. Gillett's advice was per- 
 fectly conscientious when given ; she only thought of 
 the immediate case before her, without reference to any 
 other prior claim which might have been made on her 
 attention. Unlike Lot's wife, she never looked back; con- 
 sequently, had all followed her counsel, a strange confu- 
 sion would necessarily have ensued, where all were bent 
 on the same thing — to marry Minnie, and each to his or 
 her flivourite. She sat in state, her hands crossed over 
 her portly figiu'e as she leaned back in her chair, and 
 before her sat Juvenal.
 
 \ 
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 31 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 "Just so, ^L-s. Gillett/' he said; "just as you say. I 
 am not treated like the master in my o^^^l house; no one 
 consults or obeys me. As for my niece, she opposes me 
 in every possible way !" 
 
 "Oh! that's a pity, Tm sure,'' said the commiserating 
 listener, shaking her head; "that shouldn't be, you 
 know: it's verv ^vrons;." 
 
 " So I tell her," continued he, " but she persists in it, 
 and unhesitatingly insults Marmaduke Burton before 
 my face — something about some trees; I don't exactly 
 know what she meant, but lie did, and wallved away 
 quite offended." 
 
 " Trees ?" asked GiUett, musingly; " trees ? Ay, that 
 must be it I AAliien Squh'e Bm'ton came to the property, 
 he was much in debt, they said, and he cut do^^Ti a lot 
 of fine old oaks about the place: don't you call it to 
 mind, sir ?" 
 
 ^' To be sure I do," he answered, his haii' almost on 
 end at tliis solution of ^linnie's riddle — "What a 
 wicked thing for a girl of her age to say, on pmpose to 
 hurt his feehngs, and I was so anxious for the match !" 
 
 "Tve always remarked," rejoined liis companion.
 
 32 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 dropping lier words one by one sententioiisly, " that the 
 children of military men have more devil in them than 
 others, more quarrelsome-like; dei)cnd upon it, 'tis what 
 they're brought up with." She spoke as if they were 
 young cannibals, fed upon the tro[)hies of war around 
 a blazing fire; as, says an old song there, "AMiere my 
 forefathers feasted on the blood of Christians." 
 
 '^Very likely!" ejaculated Juvenal, who was growing 
 prosy and stultified by her reasonings, and his ovm. 
 over-thinkino'. 
 
 " And yet her father was a poor, maimed, one-armed 
 man after all, not at all like a soldier. I often wondered 
 how Baby, poor child, could love him ! " 
 
 Juvenal evidently thought that a son of ^lars should, 
 literally and of necessity, be a man of arms. "But 
 what's to be done with ^finnie?" he uttered thought- 
 fully. " It would be very dreadfid were she to marry 
 the poor curate, or even the lawyer ; for her ovn\ fortune 
 is a mere trifle. Almost all her mother's portion was 
 spent in paying off Dalzell's debts. I am living, and 
 am obliged to live, quite up to my income; her aunts 
 can give her nothing until their death. What is to be 
 done, Mrs. Gillett? pray, advise me how to act?" 
 
 " I'd lock her up," whispered Gillett, " and not let 
 her sec any one else." 
 
 "But myself?" he asked; "what good woidd that do?" 
 
 " No, not you — the squire. Don't let her go about 
 with her aunts. One wants the lawyer to have her; 
 t'other, the parson. Lock her up; it's just the way to 
 tame a high spirit, and make her like the man!"
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 33 
 
 " Well, so I've thought too, ^frs. Glllett, but there 
 would be a dreadful outcry were I to attempt it. How 
 is it to be done ? " 
 
 "Well, give her, say a month, to decide; and if she 
 don't say Yes, then do it, and she'll soon come to. 
 You are her guardian, and have a right to know what's 
 best for her." 
 
 " So I will I so I will ! your reasoning is most excel- 
 lent: but don't o^ive a hint to mv sisters, or I shall have 
 my scheme frustrated." 
 
 "Xot for the world, sir; and I again beg of you not 
 to name my advice to any one, or I shall lose all the 
 confidence of the others." 
 
 "Eest perfectly satisfied, Mrs. Gillett; I have too 
 sincere a respect for your excellent counsels, to risk the 
 loss of them owins: to anv fault of mine ;" and he 
 whispered, rising, " Don't let any of them know I have 
 consulted you." 
 
 This the dame cheerfully promised, and she falthflilly 
 kept her word. To do her justice, !Mrs. Gillett meant no 
 harm — far from it. If, in the almost torj^id indifference 
 of her heart towards others, there arose sometimes 
 another feeling, it was certainly to do good, not evil ; 
 but there was predominant above all else, the love, the 
 ambition of domination, that heaven to the narrow- 
 minded — she held the reins of o;ovemment of all ; this 
 was her glor}^, not calculating, or indeed caring, how ob- 
 tained; she was an unconsciously dangerous woman — 
 in her heart meaning no harm, certainly. Juvenal 
 quitted her, resolved to watch for and seize the first 
 
 VOL. L D
 
 34 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 excuse given, to coerce Minnie to his wishes; and a 
 more erring path a man never selected. Minnie would 
 do any thing — might have been induced to take any 
 step (not faulty), by kindness, or from affection; but 
 her spirit was of that nature which would make her 
 stoutly rebel against oppression. Mrs. Gillett smoothed 
 her white apron, puckered up her mouth, folded one 
 hand over the other, and composed herself to take her 
 afternoon's nap; and Juvenal walked away, strength- 
 ened in mind by his counsellor's advice, and like a 
 galvanic battery, full charged, prepared to electrify 
 poor Minnie the first moment they came in contact. 
 In this state of affairs days went by : Juvenal watched 
 in vain for open rebellion ; his niece was too well occu- 
 pied elsewhere, to give herself the trouble of opposing 
 any attention the squire might choose to pay her. 
 When our minds are fixed upon one object, minor 
 things (even if they, under other circumstances, would 
 be considered evils) pass us by almost imnoticed. How- 
 ever, the squire had paid only hurried visits to Gate- 
 stone since the day we last saw liim there : he seemed 
 pre-occupied about something, and this apparent cool- 
 ness on his part, agonized Juvenal, who revenged him- 
 self by persecuting Minnie, and interi-upting every 
 conversation, with either the lawyer or curate, which he 
 fancied possibly agreeable to her. Bnt she, with per- 
 fect indifference, smiled on, unruffled and gay. Minnie 
 had something better at heart. We have said she 
 was a little self-willed; and not all the angry ex- 
 postulations of Sylvia, who had discovered it, could
 
 MILES TREMENHEEE. 35 
 
 prevent her visiting the cottage of Mary Burns, who 
 now was enabled to quit her bed. Accompanied by 
 Dorcas, she went thither ahnost every day, to speak 
 comfort to, and fortify that unhappy girl in her good 
 resolutions. Dorcas was one of those sensible women, 
 who, though they w^oidd not plunge a young, pure mind 
 in impurity, or familiarize it ^\ith crime, yet deem it 
 right and healthful to teach it the beauty of vu'tue by 
 its comparison with error, guardedly, advisedly, but 
 practically sho^Mi. Moreover, in this case it was a 
 duty, and that Dorcas inculcated above all else, to 
 succour and strengthen those in affliction or temptation. 
 Poor Mary forbore to name her seducer, neither did 
 either seek to unveil this hidden corner of her heart : 
 the ^^Ton2: had been done — how could it alter the 
 case to know his name ? The poor girl said, " Oh, 
 when I knew he had deceived, and never meant to 
 marry me — when he told me so, coldly and scom- 
 flilly, I became mad; for that I must have been, to 
 seek death in my sin!" Then she told Minnie how 
 she had been brought up, almost entu'ely, for years at 
 the manor-house, while Madame Tremenliere (so she 
 called her) lived: but this seemed wrung from her 
 heart ; for, \^ath the words, the clenched hands stiffened, 
 so bitterly she T^Tung them, and her lip sternly com- 
 pressed itself together, to keep back her tears. She 
 was a gui of manners and bearing far superior to her 
 station; not decidedly pretty, but quiet, well-looking, 
 and far above what is termed "genteel." She was 
 ladylike in tone and manner, showing evidence of gentle
 
 36 * MILES TKEMENHERE. 
 
 teaching and association. Her mother had once kept 
 the village school; and -when she became paralyzed, 
 years before, Mary had supported her by her work, 
 plain and fancy, which she disposed of in the neigh- 
 bouring town, Harrogate, some six miles distant. 
 She was, at the time our tale commences, in her 
 twenty-fifth j^ear. Dorcas had taken a deep interest 
 in this girl, and was endeavouring, through some 
 friends in London, to obtain a situation there for her, 
 whither she might remove with her poor old unconscious 
 mother. Juvenal could not lock up Minnie, as Mrs. 
 Gillett had advised him to do, for visiting this lonely 
 cottage, however much against his wishes, because 
 Dorcas was a consenting party: he could but grumble, 
 and consult with his old crony, the housekeeper, who 
 advised him to bide his time ; and he too felt, at her 
 foretelling, that that would soon come. " The Countess 
 of Ripley and Lady Dora will shortly arrive," she said, 
 *^ and then Miss Minnie can't run about as she does." 
 He felt this, too, and waited. But, in the mean time, his 
 refractory niece sped ahnost daily to the Biu'ns's cottage, 
 where, not unfrequently, her young, fresh voice paused 
 in its gentle, though almost childish, counsellings, or 
 readings, to salute Mr. Skaife, who came also to visit 
 his poor parishioner ; and (truth must be spoken) a little 
 self-interest attached itself to his visits, for he was 
 almost certain of meeting the one he sought and loved 
 there. One day they met as usual : Minnie was alone, 
 Dorcas had not accompanied her : he had preceded her 
 in his arrival. \Mien she entered the cottage she found
 
 MILES TKEMEXHERE. 37 
 
 mucli triLulation there. Evidently, Mr. Skaife was in 
 the confidence of Mary Bums ; it was natural he should 
 be, as the one who had rescued her from so fearful a 
 death, and also, as her spiritual master, one she was 
 bound to respect. Minnie found the unhappy girl in a 
 state of the most fearful excitement. Acting upon what 
 he had said, of theii' being improper characters, an order 
 had been brought them that morning by the squire's 
 steward, to quit the cottage of which he was landlord as 
 soon as possible. It seemed almost beyond the power 
 of Mr. Skaife to control the orirl's emotion to the stand- 
 ard of reason. AATien Minnie entered, ]Mary stood 
 before her pale and speecliless : she stood — yet she 
 seemed ahnost incapable of supporting the weight of 
 her body, and, still greater than that, some heavy 
 afiliction. For some moments she could not reply to 
 the other's kind question of, "What had occurred?" 
 !Mr. Skaife hastened to reply : — 
 
 " Oh !" he said hastily, fixing his eye on the girl to 
 subdue her bursting feelings, as if he dreaded her giving 
 utterance to sometliing; "^Ir. Burton deems it ad- 
 visable another tenant should have this cottage, and 'tis 
 best thus ; ^larj must leave ; absence from this place is 
 necessary, for many reasons. I have seen !Miss Dorcas 
 this morning, and she tells me she has succeeded in 
 obtaining an employment for tliis poor girl in town, 
 where she can support her mother, and in more healthfril 
 scenes and occupations redeem the past, and forget " 
 
 "Forget!" she almost shrieked; "forget! and now 
 to-day, when I am ordered away, and by "
 
 38 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 "Hush!" intermptecl the curate sternly; "remem- 
 ber you are called upon to suffer ; you have purchased 
 that right, however cruelly administered to you; it is 
 only by pain inflicted that physicians heal." 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Skaife," she cried, in a scarcely 
 audible tone ; I have merited all, but I am only human, 
 and it is very hard to bring down the spirit to subjec- 
 tion, more especially in my case, when " 
 
 "Hush!" he said again; and Mnnie felt that her 
 presence silenced the girl's speech. 
 
 "And must you leave this soon?" asked Minnie; 
 "' before my aunt has arranged all for your departure?" 
 
 " Yes," uttered Mary, through her half-closed teeth ; 
 "we are ordered to quit now — at once — to-day!" and, 
 despite her efforts, the excitement of her previous man- 
 ner again overcame her. " I am very wicked," she said 
 at last, in deep affliction and humility, " for I have de- 
 served all ; but oh ! Miss Dalzell, may Heaven keep you 
 from ever suffering — though innocent, as you must be, 
 with your strong, pure mind — what I am endm'ing; 
 even guilty as I am, it is almost more than mere human 
 force can bear up against." 
 
 " You have a Idnd, good friend here," answered Min- 
 nie, looking up in ISIr. Skaife's face ; one whose guidance 
 has led you to better and surer hopes than those you 
 had rehed upon. Think of this, and be comforted. 
 You will soon leave this, and meanwhile you shall not 
 quit this cottage ; / will ask Mr. Burton to pennit you 
 to remain ; surely his steward acts without his concur- 
 rence, and when he knows this man's order, he will "
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 39 
 
 He!" cried Mary; "lie, Mar , ;Mr. Burton, I 
 
 mean!" 
 
 " Pray, Miss Dalzell," exclaimed IMr. Skaife hastily, 
 " drop this painful subject — oblige me ; leave all to me ; 
 and if I may without rudeness ask it, abridge your visit 
 to-day. I vr\]l see you this evening, and infoiTu you 
 where this poor girl is removed to, for leave this she 
 must." 
 
 " Then I will go now," answered ]\Iinnie, moving 
 towards the door. " ^lay I ^" 
 
 Before she coidd conclude her sentence, the cottage 
 door was hastily pushed open, and a man entered. Mary 
 uttered a wild scream of siu'j^nse, and, springing for- 
 ward, grasped his hand in both of hers. " ^liles," she 
 cried, as if doubting her sense of ^T^ion. " Miles, you, 
 you here ! — forgive me," she uttered, dropping his hand, 
 as if it blistered hers in the contact, and, stepping back, 
 " I forget myself always noic, ]\Ii\ Tremenhere. Oh, 
 Heavens!" And she covered her face with her hands, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 " ^liles — ^^liles still and ever — dear Mary !" exclaimed 
 the man, putting his arms around her fondly, and draw- 
 ing her on his breast, quite unconscious of, or indifferent 
 to all observers. " Still, my girl, as when a better than 
 any now on earth sanctioned it." And his voice trem- 
 bled, yet it was a fine manly one too, and in keeping 
 with the speaker's appearance. He was tall, very tall, 
 muscular in frame, but slight, dark-haired, with dark 
 earnest eyes; a rather projecting but perfect brow gave 
 more depth to them — it was shade above their intense
 
 40 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 fire; an aquiline nose of chiselled outline, a mouth com- 
 pressed and finn; all combined, made Miles Tremenherei 
 a portrait worthy the pencil of the most scrupulous of the 
 old masters. He was quite Spanish in style ; for a com- 
 plexion dark and bronzed, gave colouring to that face of 
 wild, half-savage beauty, from its daring, haughty ex- 
 pression. A thick, dark moustache curled dowTi either 
 side of the mouth, veiling, but not conceahng, the line 
 of its speaking firmness, even in silence. He apj)eared 
 quite unconscious of the presence of any one but Mary, 
 like a man accustomed to be alone and friendless in a 
 crowd. Minnie looked at him, in wonder at first at a 
 manly beauty she might have dreamed of, but never saw 
 before; then a sensation of bitter pain came over her, 
 succeeded by the glow of maiden shame when first 
 brought in contact with guilt; for she fancied ^Mary's 
 seducer before her, and she felt shame for one of her sex 
 who could thus daringly avow it, as Mary's action seemed 
 to do; she made an effort to creep away, then turning 
 her eyes towards Mr. Skaife, expecting to see reprehen- 
 sion or anger on his countenance, she beheld a quiet, 
 benevolent smile cross his expressive, but not handsome, 
 face. She stopped, feehng in an instant that Mr. Tre- 
 menhere could not be the one who had \\Tongcd the 
 girl, for him to look thus. " Mary," continued ^liles, 
 still holding her in his arms. "What dreadful thing is tliis 
 I hear? I only arrived in this neighbourhood yesterday 
 night, and Weld, my ever true friend, told me, to my 
 hori'or, that you had been rescued from death by some 
 one. What, Mary, has your fine spirit become so
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 41 
 
 daunted, that a little poverty could grind it down to 
 despair ? Shame on you, my gu'l ! You told me, when 
 things changed at the old place, that poverty should not 
 queU you ; you bade me cheer up, and look to you for 
 courage. Is this your practice of that excellent theory, 
 Mary?" 
 
 While he was speaking, her head gradually turned 
 from his gaze ; in vain he tried to force her eyes to meet 
 his ; she held her face downwards, and, shrinking from 
 his arms, dropped on her knees, bowed to earth in 
 bitterness, worse than any death coidd have been ; she 
 had yet to teach this noble heart to despise her. 
 AYhat could death be compared with that? He tried 
 to raise her. "Come," he said w^th the gentleness of 
 a woman, " I did not mean to scold you ; never be cast 
 down with a few rough words from a rough fellow like 
 myself." 
 
 A hand was on his arm ; he started, so forgetfrd had 
 he become of all around, seeing only her, for her poor 
 old mother sat in an arm-chair, perfectly unconscious to 
 all around in hearing, and stone blind — ^liles turned 
 hastily — the smile had changed to a frowTi. "Mr. 
 Tremenhere," said Skaife, for 'twas his touch upon him, 
 "do not let me startle or alarm you," he hun*iedly added, 
 feeling the start. 
 
 " Sir I " exclaimed the other proudly, " I neither know 
 fear nor timidity," and he shook his arm free from the 
 clasp. 
 
 "You mistake me," answered Skaife calmly ; "though 
 a stranger to you, from report I well know, that, but — "
 
 42 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 he hesitated a moment in confusion, not well knowing 
 how to continue. 
 
 The poor girl came to his aid, rising slowly, Avhilst 
 her knees trembled beneath her from emotion. She 
 advanced a step; her first impulse of laishing into Miles's 
 arms was passed, and now she durst not touch even his 
 hand, but stood, and with a waive of her hand motioned 
 to Skaife. 
 
 " [Miles," she said, "that is our curate, good, kind 
 Mr. Skaife. But for him, my poor mother woidd now 
 have been childless, and probably in the workhouse — he 
 rescued me !" At the thought of her old mother, 
 paralyzed, deaf, and blind, in that spectre-house of 
 misery, the tears dropped from her eyes, which were 
 strained mde open, to try and see through that crowd- 
 ing flood of despair. 
 
 "I seldom offer my hand," exclaimed Tremenhere, 
 at the same time extending his towards Skaife, "it has 
 been so often repidsed ; but take it now in wann thanks 
 for what your have done for one, almost a sister." 
 
 All coldness and pride were banished from that fine 
 noble face ; his every feature lit up with the rich, bland 
 smile, which left you almost speechless with admiration, 
 so exalted the expression became. Two worthy of each 
 other in heart and mind clasped hands warmly, and 
 looking in Skaife's face, ^liles, whose \NTongs had made 
 him a keen observer of countenance, ever dreading an 
 enemy, with his hand gave a feeling of friendsliip which 
 time well matured. 
 
 "Now, I remember," he added, "AYeld spoke of your
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 43 
 
 kindness; but my brain was so bewildered I had for- 
 gotten it, and other harsh events to deal ^^dth, prevented 
 my coming over here last night, as I was assm-ed of 
 Mary's safety by my good farmer friend where I am 
 staying." 
 
 " And now," said Skaife looking expressively at liim, 
 " wiU you accompany me a short distance, merely across 
 a couple of fields, whilst I offer my protection as far as 
 her own grounds, to Mss Dalzell." And he tiu-ned to 
 where ^linnie stood, ahnost concealed by the curtains 
 of the humble bed. 
 
 "IMiss Dalzell!" exclaimed Tremenhere ; and again the 
 first haughty expression mantled his face "with scorn. 
 "Allow me to use the privilege of my caUmg," said 
 Skaife, " and take upon me what, as another, I might 
 not dare assume — the liberty of presenting you to one 
 another, — Miss DalzeU, ^Ir. Tremenhere." 
 
 The latter raised his hat coldly, but respectfully, yet 
 he seemed annoyed at the meeting. 
 
 " Honom- Miss Dalzell, for my sake," whispered poor 
 Mary, well knomng why he looked so troubled ; " for she 
 has come here day after day, as an angel, to visit a suf- 
 ferins: creature, and brino; balm to a A^-retched sinner." 
 The last word was unheard by ]Miles ; he stood beside 
 IVIinnie, whose face was covered by a deep blush. 
 
 " This," he said, " has been a day of much surprise, if 
 of sorrow too ; I came, expecting every hand and heart 
 against me — every hand cold, every heart stone ; I have 
 met two generous ones, or faces are sad traitors. For- 
 give me, Mss Dalzell, but in your home, the bitterest
 
 44 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 against me, the almost dwelling-place of Marmaduke 
 Bm'ton, my icorthy cousin, I scarcely expected to find a 
 bosom with human blood in it ; a thousand, and a thou- 
 sand thanks for Mary's sake." 
 
 " Mr. Tremenhere has been intimate with my thoughts 
 for some time," answered Minnie more cahnly, " and be- 
 lieve me as friend, not foe." 
 
 " Indeed !" and a bright glowing look was fixed in her 
 fiice, " I never dreamed of a personal friend at Gate- 
 stone, even in thought. This is truly the prodigal's wel- 
 come home ! May I accompany you and Mr. Skaife 
 across the two fields he named ? I know them well I I 
 may? Thank you ; Mary ! " — He turned to the poor girl, 
 and his face saddened as he approached her, for she was 
 weeping bitterly ; the very floor seemed to tremble with 
 her emotion, as Skaife whispered lowly to her — " ^lary, 
 I will return soon — soon, my girl ; don't be so cast down, 
 better times wiU come for aU. Hope, Mary; /do to-day," 
 and he grasped her reluctant hand, "just a few moments, 
 and I will return." 
 
 Skaife whispered, " Kemember your solemn promise to 
 me, to Heaven. He must know aU ; cheer up, poor girl, 
 I am sure he will only feel pity for you!" Only pity 
 where we were once loved and respected, is indeed an 
 icedrop on a burning surface, soon passed away, soon 
 absorbed, and not long even the memory of it left. 
 
 Minnie, Tremenhere, and Skaife, passed out.
 
 MILES TKEMENHERE. 45 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 Tremexhere had two distinct characters ; with those 
 he disliked, he had more than the coldness ascribed to 
 EngHshmen in general; there was something almost 
 despotic in his manner. With those to whom liis affec- 
 tions kindled, he was not alone gentleness itself, but 
 forbearing, bending, loving, the almost habitual frown 
 quitted his face, and left it j'outhfid, bland, and joyous 
 in expression. Poor Miles ! he had suffered, and been 
 made to endiure, keenly; he had been forced to graft 
 suspicion on a noble nature, and this destroyed the bud 
 of much good fruit. There was so much vnld nature about 
 him, that not unfrequently the usages of society suffered 
 from his bluntness ; what he thought, he spoke freely. 
 
 "^liss Dalzell knows, I presume," he said, as the 
 three entered the path-field, " my historj^ — as I was — as 
 I am?" 
 
 " But sHghtly," she answered, rather embarrassed. 
 
 " Well, 'tis best, perhaps, little kno^vn to one so young 
 and pm'e as yourself. It would show you a capabihty of 
 vice in the human heart, which you may never discover 
 in your personal career — so better ignore it; it might, too, 
 tarnish your mind's piuity, to see so dark a current in
 
 46 MILES TREMENHEUE. 
 
 a life's ocean; but what I wished to allude to, is this, 
 when I first saw you, and heard your name mentioned, it 
 recaUed you to me as one whom I have recently heard 
 of as the elected bride of my hopeful cousin, INIarmaduke 
 Burton. My first thought of you was darker than dis- 
 like — ^'twas contempt; no good, true heart could love 
 that man for himself." 
 
 " Stop, Mr. Tremenhere," cried Skaife hastily, and in 
 evidently painftd emotion. " Do not judge harshly what 
 woman's weakness or love may lead her to forget, or 
 forgive, for herself or another." 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Skaife!" cried Minnie, amazed 
 and in almost horror; "what do you suppose?" 
 
 Skaife had forgotten her, he was thinking of another. 
 Tremenhere stopped suddenly, and flushed deeply, as he 
 fixed his earnest eyes on her — 
 
 " Have I, can I have been mistaken? Has my own 
 wary judgment in general, deceived me this once? I 
 thought," he almost uttered these last words to himself, 
 " no one could cheat my watchMness now." 
 
 *'Mr. Tremenhere," exclaimed she in much embar- 
 rassment, yet anxious to cast from Her a gannent so 
 hateful as the one which should cloak her as Burton's 
 wife in his or any eyes, " I may be speaking boldly 
 for a girl, and to you, a stranger too, but I would not 
 have any one suppose, much less you, an injured man, 
 that I can ever become your cousin's wife. Mr. Skaife, 
 pray assure Mr. Tremenhere you did not allude to me!" 
 
 " Indeed," said Skaife, much puzzled by his own awk-
 
 ]\IILES TEEMEXHERE. 47 
 
 wardness, " I had forgotten all present ; I will explain 
 my meaning to you," and lie turned to ^liles. 
 
 "Oh I" answered this man again, reassured in confi- 
 dence, and smiling his own pecuKar smile on ^linnie. 
 " I ill deserve this kindness, this haste to soothe mv 
 wounds. Beheve me, they are deep and canl^ering when 
 I tliink of Bmlon, not for myself, but another. You have 
 been so Christian in kindness to poor Mary, that I could 
 not bear, jSIiss Dalzell, to associate any one I respected 
 in even my thoughts ^^-ith that traitor. Thought," he 
 continued, musingly, " is a gift of the soul; you will in- 
 habit mine, linked ^\ith that unfortunate girl, whom I 
 much love." 
 
 " Am I to understand," asked Skaife aside to him in 
 sm'})rise, "that you know all?" 
 
 " AE?" and the other stared, astonished at the ques- 
 tion to himself. " Could any know it better ? what else 
 has again brought me to this place? ^Ahat di'ove me 
 from it?" 
 
 " Then, indeed, you are to be pitied, ^Ir. Tremen- 
 here — deeply pitied ; but I feared sometliing of this, 
 from your emotion in the humble cottage we have 
 quitted." 
 
 Skaife vras playing with shadows of his o\vii creating. 
 He fancied Tremenhere loved Mary, vdih. whom he had 
 been brought up fr'om cliildhood; and he also thought 
 he (Tremenhere) knew all her painfrd story. Skaife's 
 last words demanded an explanation. Before the other 
 could ask it, ]\Iinnie uttered an exclamation, and over
 
 48 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 the stile, the last one, near which they stood, st niggled 
 Mrs. Gillett — for struggle it was — whether she should 
 overcome the stile, or the stile lay her in the ditch. 
 However, she arrived safely on the side where stood the 
 the three, smoothed her dress, settled her apron, picked 
 up a patten, which she had dropped (she always carried 
 these, even in the finest weather, to cross the brooks 
 on,) and then she looked up over her spectacles, which 
 were on the tip of her nose, and stood transfixed. At a 
 glance she knew Miles Tremenhere. Mrs. Gillett had 
 one excellent quality — she was no talebearer ; she kept 
 circumstances to herself; they only oozed out in imper- 
 ceptible drops in her counsellings, making her seem an 
 GEdipus for soothsaying and guessing. Her hearers 
 were amazed when truths came to light which she had 
 foretold, without any seeming foreknowledge of them : 
 herein lay her strength and power over all. " Mussiful 
 powers !" she mentally said ; " here's a pretty business ! 
 What am I to do with himV^ She was thinking of all 
 the lovers for Minnie she had already on hand, ^^^th 
 their leaders. Skaife was the first to recover self-pos- 
 session. "Perhaps, Miss Dalzell," he said, "you will 
 allow me "—he did not say " us," for ^f rs. Gillett was, 
 perhaps, ignorant who Tremenhere was ; he might seem 
 as a stranger to Minnie in-her eyes — "to hand over my 
 escort, however unwillingly done, to Mrs. Gillett ; and 
 I and my friend (he glanced at Miles) will continue our 
 walk of business." 
 
 But Tremenhere stepped boldly forward ; something 
 more than his usual candour forbade disguise, even if
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 49 
 
 practicable : " Mrs. Gillett," he said, " you and I are 
 old friends. Surely you remember the ' sweet youth,' 
 as you were used to call me when I visited Gatestone 
 and your cosey room there !" 
 
 ^Irs. Gillett shrunk back — she was on her slippery 
 rock: had they been alone, she would gladly have 
 spoken to ^liles, before witnesses she durst not. She 
 looked dowTi, and, affecting not to hear, stooped, resting 
 on one toe to support her knee, on which, placino- a 
 patten, she very assiduously begun tying its string. 
 !Miles laughed aloud : it was a cold, contemptuous, un- 
 pained laugh. " ^liss Dalzell," he said, lowly bowing, 
 and changing his tone to one of feeling, " I do indeed 
 thank you for to-day, for all your gentle words. When- 
 ever I re\asit this spot, here shall I pause to salute the 
 shade of one whose kindness will be ever present with 
 me." He was turning sadly away : " Good bye, ^Ir. 
 Tremenhere," she cried, extending her hand; "and 
 when we meet again, may you be very differently cir- 
 cumstanced to what you are to-day." 
 
 He grasped her hand, and all the speeches ever formed 
 could not have been half so eloquent, as his tremulous 
 " I thank you deeply and sincerely, may your kind wish 
 be heard ;" and mth a sigh, which we often grant to sym- 
 pathy, though refusing it to our own hardened feelings, 
 he turned away with Skaife, who shook ^linnie kindly by 
 the hand ; it was a parting of three very kindred spirits. 
 As they walked off, ^Irs Gillett rose from her occupation. 
 " Your dear aunts sent me to meet you, darling," she said, 
 glancing round cautiously, " and I always like to bring 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 my pattens with me ; I don't like damp grass, it don't 
 agree \\4th my rheumatics." At that moment Tremen- 
 here paused in his walk, and turned round, as if irresolute 
 whether to return, and perhaps say something left im- 
 , said. Mrs Gillett saw it, and, once more stooping, she 
 gave a violent tug to her patten string ; she had raised 
 herself three inches upon those kind of young stilts, 
 which even yet oldfashioned country folks wear. " Bless 
 the tie ! " she cried, bent nearly double, her back curved 
 like a boy at leap-frog ; " bless the tie, it always comes 
 undone, or gets into a knot — I never see such strings !" 
 Minnie saw nothing of this ; she could not have compre- 
 hended Mrs Gillett's policy ; then, too, her thoughts were 
 more knotted than even the patten tie ; — who might un- 
 weave and straighten them ? Alas ! a few moments will 
 often entangle the skein of our existence, knotting up 
 hopes, fears, and cares, in one unravelable mass. Tre- 
 menhere tm-ned, and wallved on ; Minnie had seen the 
 action, and it troubled her, " What had he wished to say? 
 would he teU Skaife ? could she serve him in any way ? 
 poor fellow — poor Mies Tremenhere !" Every one knows 
 the reputed relationship between friendship and love; 
 they have a family lilveness, and are not unfrequently 
 mistaken for one another, till the latter pirouettes, and 
 then we find the arrowless quiver, (they remain with us,) 
 and the extended wings, — who may clip them ? 
 
 " Your aunts were very anxious about you," continued 
 Minnie's companion, peering over her spectacles to read 
 if the other had read her ; " poor, dear ladies, I'm sure it's 
 a great blessing for you to have such relations in your
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 51 
 
 orphan state ; and then your kind uncle, too, he is more 
 sensible, and judges better what's good for you than any, 
 as in corn's e he should — in course he shoidd," here she 
 paused, and peeped at the thoughtful girl. " The lawyer 
 Mr. Dalby's very well," ran on ^Irs. Gillett, " and so is 
 ]\Ir. Skaife — oh, he's a pious young man ! and his sermons 
 are quite edifying; but then, I've always remarked, your 
 very pious young men don't make very good husbands, 
 or happy homes. A man should only think of liis ^^ife, 
 and how can the clargy do that when they're the fathers 
 of the whole parish ? and I'm sure ^Ir. Skaife has enough 
 to do hereabouts, for they are an id brought ened-up set 
 as ever I met vAi\\, and, as his housekeeper says, when 
 he isn't writin' liis sermons, he's astonishing some one," 
 {queru, admonishing ?) " Xow, as to marrying him, with 
 all liis occupation, it might do very well for ^liss Sylvia, 
 or ^liss Dorcas, but for a fine young lady like you, why, 
 you should have horses, and caniages, and servants at 
 command, and be the grandest lady in the neighbom- 
 hood. Then, as for ^Ir. Dalby, why, what Avith lat- 
 tjcats, rejectments, and briefs, it's but little time hed find 
 to pay you proper attention." 
 
 "jMrs. Gillett!" exclaimed Minnie, so suddenly that 
 she almost frightened her off her pattens, " don't you 
 know ^Ir. Tremenhere ? didn't you know him as a boy ?" 
 
 "Bless me, ]Miss ^linnie, what are you talking of! 
 don't speak of that dreadful young man, ]Miss ; it's un- 
 becoming a modest young lady to know there's such a 
 person hA-ing." 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 62 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 "Mrs. Gillett!" and the girl stood still in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "To be sure," responded the woman, "he must be a 
 bad character — wasn't his mother ? and how could he be 
 good? — Don't a cat always have kittens?" 
 
 "Mrs. Gillett," cried Minnie, again grasping her arm, 
 and her eyes looked deepest violet with emotion. " You 
 would be a very wicked woman to think what you say ; 
 that was Miles Tremenhere with Mr. Skaife. I pitied 
 him before knowing him, and now, if I coidd by any 
 means see him righted, I'd lend my hand to the good 
 work, and I do hope some day he may be at the manor- 
 house again!" 
 
 "That Mr. Tremenhere!" exclaimed the politic Gil- 
 lett. "How boys do alter, to be sure!" She evaded 
 replying to the other things said ; it would not do, too 
 decidedly, to take any side of the question ; the womb of 
 Time is very prolific — we never know what offspring it 
 may produce. They were in the shrubberies of Gate- 
 stone by this time ; a few moments' silence ensued, inter- 
 rupted only by the click-clack of Mrs. Gillett's pattens. 
 
 " Mrs. Gillett, why will you wear those horrid things 
 on the gravel walks ? you cut them up terribly," said a 
 voice behind them. Minnie turned, her companion stop- 
 ped, and stooped to disencumber her feet of their appen- 
 dages, by which movement Juvenal nearly fell over her. 
 She was pitched forward on her hands and knees by the 
 concussion, with a scream ; another picked her up — 'twas 
 the squire. Juvenal was evidently cross, or he would
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 53 
 
 not have spoken so disrespectfully to liis matron house- 
 keeper. 
 
 "I hope I see ^liss Dalzell well?" said Burton, offer- 
 ing his hand. 
 
 " AVell, thank you," answered she, not appearing to 
 notice it — he bit his hp, and dropped beside her. 
 
 " I really should like to know where you go every day 
 — where you have been this morning, ^linnie?" asked 
 her uncle crossly. 
 
 ** Shall I tell you, uncle?" she answered, and then, with- 
 out giving herself a moment to consider possible conse- 
 quences to herself or others, with the too hasty candour 
 of a generous mind anxious to espouse the weaker side, 
 she continued, addressing herself tliis time to Marma- 
 duke Bmton, — " I've been to Marv BmTis's cottao-e, and 
 there I met !Mr. Skaife, and yom' cousin, jMr. Burton, 
 !Mr. Tremenhere." Certainly she created an effect ; the 
 squire tottered and became ghastly pale, Juvenal looked 
 amazed and annoyed. "AATiat — together?" he cried. 
 "How came that about? Where is Mr. Tremenhere? 
 and how dare you become acquainted with that man?" 
 
 " Your sm'prise equals mine," said Burton, recovering 
 himself partially, then added ironically — "Our young 
 curate might do better composing his sermons, than be- 
 coming bear-leader to an impostor, and a man of !Mr. 
 Tremenhere's character. As cousin, Miss Dalzell, allow 
 me to disavow him; he is none such by law, and I have 
 no desire to outstep any bounds to claim that enviable 
 distinction."
 
 54 MILES TRE3IENIIEKE. 
 
 " I only judge tlic law of humanity," she replied, in a 
 slightly tremulous tone ; she began to be afraid of the 
 storm of such passions as his face bespoke working in 
 his frame. "And no man should be condemned for 
 the faults — if faults there were — of his parents." 
 
 "If faults there were," said Burton, echoing her 
 words. ^' Allow me, JMiss Dalzell, to reject, in all polite- 
 ness, the right your speech offers me, of standing in ^Ii\ 
 Tremenhere's position. He or I am an impostor, a claim- 
 ant to an unjust title of proprietorship; besides, there are 
 more personal faults appertaining to that gentleman, at 
 variance with my ideas of honour." 
 
 For an instant a doubt crossed her mind about Mary 
 and Miles ; could Burton allude to this? But her heart 
 repudiated the thought. 
 
 "Did he become suddenly so wicked?" she calmly 
 asked. "As boys together — as men, indeed — up to the 
 period of his father's death, had he the deep hypocrisy 
 to concepJ all this ?" 
 
 " Miss Dalzell seems well informed of my history," he 
 said, through his half-closed teeth. " I cannot but feel 
 flattered by the kind interest it evinces in me." lie 
 bowed low. 
 
 " Really, Minnie," said her uncle, " you have chosen 
 a strange subject ; pray, drop it. How could you have 
 become acquainted with that man? This comes of 
 your running about alone — it must be seen to, and 
 quickly : Mrs. Gillett!" The woman stepped forward at 
 his call ; and noAv she blessed her forethought aud policy 
 in having ignored Tremenhere's identity !
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 55 
 
 "Mrs. Gillett,' said her master, while the other two 
 walked on in silence, " what do you know about tliis ? 
 You were mth Miss Dalzell : where did you find her, 
 and how?" The woman was quite calm under tliis 
 criminal examination — she felt so sure of her innocence. 
 
 " I know nothing of it, master," she said decidedly : 
 " I met Miss Dalzell, dear child, in the holly field ; just 
 as I stepped over the stile, my patten came undone ; I 
 was busy settling it ; I saw Mr. Skaife and another gen- 
 tleman, but I'm sm-e I couldn't swear to him ; I never 
 looked in his face — it isn't my custom so to do to them 
 above me, 'specially gentlemen ! " and she smoothed her 
 virginal-looking apron, tied over her modest heart with 
 •svide tape strings. 
 
 Sylvia and Dorcas came out to meet the approaching 
 group. " AMiere was the child?" demanded the former 
 at the top of her voice. Juvenal looked, and was, much 
 excited. "]Mrs. Gillett found her," he replied, "with 
 an improper — a most improper — character !" 
 
 "Y^Tiat a dreadful tiling!" screamed Sylvia; "who 
 was it?" 
 
 Dorcas was by the gM's side, calmly speaking, and 
 inquiring the cause of her protracted stay, wliich had 
 alarmed them. She knew, however, that Minnie was 
 not in any wdliul harm, yet her affection made her fear- 
 ful of ill. We ^vill leave them to their explanations, to 
 Avhich ^Ir. Burton was not a witness, having taken his 
 leave hastily of all. Poor Minnie had a sad trial, and a 
 severe lesson and lecture, the consequences of her warm 
 heart and candour — two things, bad guides in this world
 
 56 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 of brambles ; with these her garments would be, hap- 
 lessly, frequently rent and disfigured. 
 
 We will ask our readers to step into the holly field 
 with us, to where we left Skaife and Miles Tremenhere, 
 both of them walking back in deep thought.
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 57 
 
 CHAPTEK y. 
 
 From some ambiguous words di'opped by Miles in the 
 cottage, and during Minnie's stay with them, it will be 
 remembered that Skaife was impressed with the idea 
 that Tremenhere had, as a boy probably, loved Mary 
 Bums, who had been a 'protegee of liis mother's at the 
 manor-house; and the curate also thought that the 
 other was aware of her sad fate. For some time the 
 silence was unbroken, then Miles, suddenly turning to- 
 wards his companion, said, like one awakening from a 
 dream, " Pardon me, Mr. Skaife, but I am an uncouth 
 man, much alone, little in humanized society ; my chief 
 companions are stocks and stones, and the native inha- 
 bitants of wild nature ; forgive me again, I had forgotten 
 to thank you, which I do most sincerely, for your kind- 
 ness to poor Mary Bums, and also to myself personally; 
 few, indeed, would have had the courage to notice, and 
 be thus publicly seen with one at so low a discount as I 
 am in this neighbourhood." 
 
 " Believe me sincere, when I assure you, Mr. Tremen- 
 here," rejoined the other, " that from all I have heard, 
 and now seen, no one can more truly deplore your mis- 
 fortunes than I do."
 
 58 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " Do you know them all?" 
 
 " I think, I believe I do," hesitated the curate ; he 
 feared uttering something painful. 
 
 " Do you know that for upwards of twenty-one years 
 I was brought up at the manor-house, beloved by a 
 father and mother, the best Heaven ever foniied — oh ! es- 
 pecially the latter ; I can scarcely speak of her now." He 
 paused, and seemed choking with emotion. "To be brief," 
 he continued, after a pause, " in one year I lost all ; she 
 died first, my father soon followed her, and then, while my 
 sorrow was stiU green, my cousin, Marmaduke Burton, 
 put in a claim for the property, on the ground of my 
 illegitimacy ! I was stricken, I had not a word to oifer, 
 proof I had none to the contrary ; my father's man-iage 
 had taken place, for marriage there ivas, at Gibraltar ; my 
 mother was Spanish, of not exalted parentage, I believe, 
 — from thence sprung the great difficidty of proof Only 
 an obscure family to deal with, that ruffian Marmaduke 
 gained all — the property was tied up until the event 
 should be known ; I had few wealthy friends — he, both 
 friends and money. Most of my earlier days had passed 
 in studies abroad ; I came only at stated periods to my 
 home — I was a stranger among my o^vn countrymen ; — 
 he had secured himself allies (I will not call them friends, 
 of these he could have none) ; he was assisted too, by a 
 greater scamp than himself, a mean, cold-blooded villain 
 of the name of Dalby. In my bewilderment, my horror, 
 at her name — my pure, holy mother's name — being 
 dragged forward for public scorn, I lost all nerve and 
 power; then too, I was poor, — the result you know.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 59 
 
 !Mr. Skaife, I am a wanderer — he, in my halls ; but all is 
 not lost yet. I may find my way to simlight, even lilvc 
 the blind mole." 
 
 "And, Mr. Bm'ton," asked the other, hesitatingly, 
 "was he not a frequent visiter at the manor-house?" 
 
 " T\Tiy man, the reptile was there as my friend and 
 brother; whenever I returned from my rambles, or 
 school, in earher days, 'twas ' Marmaduke ' and ' Miles ' 
 vAih. us from boyhood's youngest hours ; he was with 
 me soothing, when she, my mother, died — and there, too, 
 when I put on my orphan state of master and lord of 
 the manor-house. A week afterwards the long pre- 
 pared claim was put in ; the morning he left for that 
 worthy purpose, he shook me by the hand, and said as 
 usual, ' Good bye old fellow, we shall meet soon ;' and 
 we did — in courts 
 
 "And it was at the manor he knew Mary Bums?" 
 asked Skaife, deeply affected. 
 
 " Ay, at the old place she had been as companion, 
 almost child to my mother, from her childhood. Then 
 when her old mother became paralyzed, and lost her 
 school, Mary went to reside mth her in that cottage ; 
 but it was comfortable then. My mother, and a little of 
 her o\ATi industry in fancy work, kept them. Alas, poor 
 Mary ! I loved her dearly, as ever man loved a sister, 
 she was so exemplary a girl under many trials." 
 
 "I fancied," said Skaife, "I scarcely know why, but 
 I fancied there had been a waiTner attachment." To his 
 own surprise, he found liimself conversing with this al-
 
 60 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 most stranger as with an old friend, so certain is it, that 
 kindred souls know no time, to limit their flight to 
 meet their fellow spirits. Tremenhere coloured even 
 through the bronze of his dark complexion ; at the last 
 words he was silent some moments, and then said hastily, 
 but not haughtily: "Mary was a playfellow, as a sister to 
 me — I never loved her," and he seemed desirous of chan- 
 ging the subject. This proud man appreciated the other's 
 qualities and his goodness ; with him he was no longer 
 the cold, guarded person which circumstances had made 
 him generally in his intercourse with all. 
 
 *' It is a painful subject with you, I see," said Skaife, 
 much embarrassed how to proceed ; " but niy mind is 
 greatly relieved on one point — I feared you had loved 
 this poor girl ; that not having been the case, my duty 
 is easier, for one it is, to consult with you what had best 
 be done for her." 
 
 " Yes, poor girl ! I had for a moment lost sight of her 
 case in other thoughts — selfish ones, too — we are such 
 mere automatons to our ruling passions. Poor girl ! I 
 hear that hopeful cousin of mine has ordered them to 
 quit the cottage ; so I presume they must — but where 
 go? that's the question. I am so hampered myself by 
 other cares, I scarcely know how to help them ; could 
 he not be prevailed upon to allow them to remain an- 
 other six months — what do you think ? " 
 
 Skaife's blood chilled within him ; he felt like a disap- 
 pointed man. Here was the person who had known ^lary 
 from childhood, almost a brother, so coolly wishing her 
 to remain on the sufferance of Marmaduke Burton, as
 
 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 61 
 
 he knew him, and believed the other too, equally en- 
 lightened on several points. 
 
 "No," he coldly said, "I do not think she can, or 
 ought to remain under circumstances; think of the dread- 
 ful crime she has almost committed, ]Mr. Tremenhere, — 
 suicide ! " 
 
 "True, but she has promised noj; to attempt that 
 again. In our toiling passage to the attainment of any 
 object, we must drink many a bitter draught. She 
 must try and submit for a while, I fear, to a few annoy- 
 ances : poor Mary — what can I do ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, ^Ir. Tremenhere," answered Skaife in a 
 cold but decided tone ; " ^^ith my consent, as curate of 
 this parish, she shall not remain. She might not commit 
 suicide; but men are strange creatures, and the woman 
 they cast from them to-day, they might kneel to, to-mor- 
 row, were she to appear indifferent ; this gM shall never 
 know the temptation such an act on his part might be." 
 
 Tremenhere stopped as if transfixed by a bolt of iron, 
 and stared in speechless wonder in his companion's face. 
 Skaife continued speaking, mistaking the dark cloud of 
 demoniacal expression crossing that handsome face, for 
 indignation towards himself for his free speech ; for this 
 he Httle cared. 
 
 "Air. Burton's ardent, but heartless, pm-suit of the 
 girl tni her ruin ensued, proves a deeper motive, I fear, 
 than passion; the same revenge towards you, may 
 urge " He said no more. 
 
 "Stop!" cried Allies, in a voice of thunder, and he 
 grasped the other's arm, and arrested his footsteps. His
 
 62 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 whole power of utterance above a whisper seemed to 
 have been expended m that one word ; for his voice be- 
 came a mere breath like a dying man's, as he asked, 
 while that strong, robust frame tottered beneath his 
 heart's weight in his agony, "Do I understand you 
 aright, that JNIary Bums has been seduced, and by 
 Marmaduke Burton?" 
 
 " Alas, yes ! I thought you understood so fi'om your 
 words in that cottage." Poor Skaife was pale with 
 emotion; the other had not changed, his blood stood 
 stiU, only the muscles had given way beneath the blow. 
 There was a long silence ; Miles stiU grasped his ann 
 till it fell from that clasp at last, powerless to hold it — 
 they were near the stile leading into the lane where 
 IMary's cottage was situated. 
 
 "Does Miss DalzeU know this?" inquired Miles, as 
 if one thought, rusiiing with the many through his 
 brain, found an outlet. 
 
 " The ruin, but not the man," answered Skaife. 
 
 " God bless her, then ! " burst from the suffering man's 
 lips, and with that blessing the blood flowed once more 
 through his frame. It was as a gush of molten lead, 
 forcing its way outwards, burning as it rushed ; his face 
 became dark and lurid, and his flashing eyes looked 
 wildly forward. 
 
 " I have not words to thank you with, for all you have 
 done," he cried in a hoarse, unnatural voice, grasping 
 Skaife's hand. " We shall soon, very soon, meet again ; " 
 and with one bound he cleared the stile, and almost like 
 thought stood before the terrified Mary Bums, who
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. C3 
 
 had sunk in a chair when they departed, ahnost faint- 
 ing, from fear of the result of then- conversation ; and 
 now she felt how well grounded that terror had been 
 when ]Miles strode into the cottage. She knew his 
 ungovernable passion when excited by injuiy or viUainy 
 in another — in her terror she rose before him : " ]Miles ! " 
 she ahnost screamed. 
 
 "Not Allies !" he cried, "but the spirit of his mother 
 returned to condemn you ; an angel who breathed on you 
 from her own pure lip, who strove to instil her pmity 
 into your polluted soul — Devil's child ! " and he grasped 
 her trembhng arm — he was pitiless, scarcely human, in 
 his rage then — as he continued, " to hear such counsels, 
 to breathe the atmosphere of such a presence, and tm-n 
 to yom' heU again ! Could not even her dying blessing, 
 which fell united on both of us, cleanse you ? Could 
 you find no fitter object for your impure love than him, 
 the man who has branded her memory with so foul a 
 stain, who has driven her son, almost your brother, forth, 
 a beggar, and nameless ! If there's one drop of human 
 blood in you, woman, shed it in tears for your baseness ! 
 Oh, heavens!" and he looked fixedly forward like a 
 man in a trance, " give me power to caU down on this 
 creature the reward of her foul work ! " 
 
 " Do not curse me. Miles," she slirieked, dropping on 
 her knees and clasping them, " have mercy on me — have 
 mercy on me !" 
 
 It was a fearful pictiu-e on which the curate at that 
 moment looked unseen through the open door ; they, in 
 their agony, and the poor old mother totally unconscious
 
 64 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 of all, some happy thoughts evidently crossing her mind, 
 for she was smiUng, and endeavouring to rub her para- 
 lyzed hands together at the joyous dream. Skaife in- 
 voluntarily drew back, and leaned against the door-post 
 to keep away other witnesses, should the voices within 
 attract notice in the adjoining cottages. Miles's hand 
 was passed painfully over his face and brow — he had 
 flung his hat aside. 
 
 "Have pity. Miles!" she cried, her eyes streaming 
 with tears which nearly choked her, as she clasped her 
 hands, and kneeling, looked up to where he stood, for he 
 had shaken her oiF as she clung to him. " But if you 
 knew what dreadful struggles of nearly maddening 
 power ground my heart dowTi to bitterness, and revenge^'' 
 (she almost whispered the last word,) " before I commit- 
 ted this fearful sin against myself, you, and, far more than 
 all, the memory of your sainted mother, you might find 
 some excuse. You cannot forget how my presump- 
 tuous heart, forgetting all but her more than woman's 
 kindness, dared to lose sight, from her gentleness, of the 
 distance between us, and loved you. You cannot forget 
 the day I dreamed you returned it, and boldly confessed 
 mine ; you were calm, dignified, manly, and generous, 
 when you said you never could return it — that I had 
 mistaken you, and you hoped myself, and when you 
 drew me to your heart with a brother's love — Oh, may 
 3^ou never know such humiliation as / felt then, which 
 turned to a blacker feeling afterwards, fostered by him ; 
 for when you, for my sake, absented yourself from home 
 for months, you cannot know how this weak heart was
 
 MILES TRE3IEXHERE. Co 
 
 worked upon by liini. He had seen all, guessed all; 
 and, unsuspecting his motives, I one day confessed the 
 truth to liim. From that hour he became the friend, 
 the comforter ; he alone spoke hope to me — a hope his 
 every action discredited faith in. Then your mother 
 died ; events were drawing to a close ; you returned, no 
 thought of love in your heart ; I repressed my mad 
 affection for you, but I was weighed to earth by the 
 effort. I was but a g-irl of ei^^hteen in a villain's hands, 
 when the downfall of all came ; your father s death, 
 yoiu' banishment " 
 
 "And did not all these sad events, Mary," and 
 his voice was low and trembliuGC as he looked down 
 upon the cowering woman, " soften your heart to 
 pity, not revenge? Our affections are not our o^^Tl; 
 we are not masters of these but by many a hard 
 struggle, I never could have loved you more than 
 as a sister : it was not pride, Mary ; we have none of 
 that with those we love. I loved you very truly for 
 your own sake, for the sake of oiu* happy days of child- 
 hood together, and for my mother's sake." As the last 
 words fell from him, the man, for a moment spirit-broken 
 atid agonized, sunk do^^^l on a chair, and, leaning his 
 head on his arm across the table, Avept like any woman 
 over the ruin before him, and his memory of another. 
 He had not one selfish thought ; he was iron for himselii 
 — for others, as a child at heart in love and f^entleness. 
 She rose, and, creeping to his side, took the hand which, 
 clenched in its agony, rested on his knee, and, droj)ping 
 on hers, she covered it with tears and kisses. " Foricive 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 C^Q MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 me, Miles," she sobbed, " for you know not all I endured 
 of trial before I fell. lie told me you had scoffed at my 
 love — to him. It was not the work of a day or hour ; it 
 is nearly ciglit long years since you quitted this place ; 
 for more than four we have not met ; for less than that 
 space I have been the guilty creature I now am ! " 
 
 Insensibly his hand unclenched and clasped her's; 
 she continued sobbing between each scarcely-articulate 
 word, "When, by every artifice man coidd employ, he 
 led me to error; and, ever since, this most bitter re- 
 pentance. 'Twas done under the promise of maldng me 
 his wife, to sliovf you that he appreciated my worth. 
 And when he said you not only had repulsed my love, 
 but scorned it " 
 
 "He lied, Mary, he lied!" articulated the sorrowing 
 man, looking up ; " from i?ie he never heard of our love ; 
 he must have divined it." 
 
 "God help me!" she uttered, kissing his clasping 
 hand, "for I have suffered much; and it was my re- 
 fusal (for years now) to continue in my error, which has 
 made him persecute me so of late. I told him last time 
 we met, that / loved yoit still, and ever should," These 
 last words were scarcely breathed. 
 
 " Heaven help you, my poor girl !" cried Miles, look- 
 ing at her as lie placed a hand gently on her head ; " for 
 what can that love bring you ? — Sorrow and dishcarten- 
 ment in every effort for existence; a log to hamper 
 every step of your pathway to independence ! Hise up, 
 Mary," and he drew her on his heart ; " come what may, 
 my girl, these arms wiU shelter you still from the cold.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 67 
 
 heartless world. I am richer now, Mary, and to-morrow 
 you and that poor old woman shall leave this place ; and 
 
 once away, oh, then I " He spoke the last words 
 
 with a stern resolution. 
 
 "What, Miles?" and she clasped his clenched hand 
 in her's, and gazed terrified in his flasliing eyes. 
 
 " I'll retmn to my home abroad," he uttered, drop- 
 ping them to conceal their speech, lest she should read 
 aright.
 
 68 MILES TREMENHEEE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " I'm sure," said Sylvia Formby, rocking herself back- 
 wards and forwards in her chair, about an hour after 
 Minnie's return, " I don't know what can be done with 
 this girl ; she certainly is a 'dreadful cause of anxiety to 
 all, and especially to poor me ! " She was one of those 
 who dehghted in being miserable. One would really 
 have imagined, from her manner and conversation about 
 her, that Minnie was one of the very worst girls in ex- 
 istence — an unruly, impossible-to-govern creature. Aunt 
 Sylvia was in her own room ; and opposite to her, 
 shaking her head in sorromng sympathy, perched on 
 the edge of a chair, sat Mrs. Gillett. 
 
 " Young ladies is a drcadfid responsibility," ejaculated 
 the latter guardedly, (it was safe speaking in general 
 terms ;) " all ar'n't as you was. Miss Sylvia !" 
 
 ** Tm sure I don't know what is to be done with my 
 niece," continued the other, unnoticing the compliment, 
 " I feel some harm will happen to her, if she be not 
 married out of the way. What with your master's 
 obstinacy, and Miss Dorcas's didness of comprehension, 
 the girl wall assuredly be lost unless I exert myself." 
 
 " In coorse, ^Miss," ventured the Hstener.
 
 MILES TRE31ENHEKE. 69 
 
 " She never will many tlie squire ; that she positively 
 asserts, and her manner proves.it. Then, Mr. Skaife — 
 what is he? Only a poor curate, who has just bread 
 enough for himself, and nothing to spare ; and she don't 
 like him. Now, ^h\ Dalby has the whole patronage of 
 the neighbourhood, except Mr. Burton's, and he's a very 
 charminof man: what more can she desire?" 
 
 "And he'll have Squire Burton's business again, 
 Mss; that's for sartain, for they were seen walking 
 together yesterday." 
 
 " I don't exactly know how he lost it," said SyMa. 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " All along of Miss Minnie," was the response. " Mr. 
 Dalby, when the old squire died, Mr. Tremenhere, con- 
 ducted the business for Mr. Biui:on; indeed he had 
 kno^^^l the flicts long before, they say — that is, the 
 servants say ; howsomdever, since they both have been 
 coming a-coortin' Miss, they haven't been such friends. 
 But I'll tell you what I think. Miss Sylvia," here the 
 sybil lowered her voice to a whisper — " and mind I'm 
 seldom ^vrong, and I woiddn't say this to any one but 
 yourself— I believe, if Mss isn't looked after, just for 
 contrariness sake, if he stays hereabouts, she'U get a- 
 coortin' with that young Mr. Tremenhere I" 
 
 " An illegitimate child !" shrieked the virtuous Syh-ia, 
 in horror. 
 
 " Yes, !Miss Sylvia, with liim ; and, as you say, it's 
 dreadful, for he hasn't a name in the world to call his 
 own, except ]Miles, and what sort of a cognation, as 
 master calls it, is that for her to marry ? Pie hasn't
 
 70 MILES TRE31ENPIErtE. 
 
 liis father's nor his mother's; he's a outlaw, and any one 
 that pleased might shoot him like a dog, I hear." 
 
 Sylvia had only heard a portion of this sentence, the 
 prophecy about Miles and Minnie. She had extraordi- 
 nary faith in the worldly perceptiveness of Mrs. Gillett. 
 She anxiously inquired the foundation for the other's 
 suspicion ; but the good generalship of the matron for- 
 bade any undue confidence respecting her reasons, 
 merely contenting herself with alarming her Ustener to 
 the fullest extent of her powers, by persisting in her 
 belief, as arising principally, she laid a stress on this 
 word, thereby implying that she held back more cogent 
 articles for her beHef, from the fact of Miss Minnie's own 
 statement, that she had been walking with this Miles 
 Tremenhere, for to no one would this very politic woman 
 confess, that she had recognised him herself at a glance. 
 Mrs. Gillett was a very cautious person indeed, one of 
 those whose opinions would never choke them from a 
 too hasty formation of them, nor her words leave a bit- 
 terness in her mouth from an inconsiderate utterance of 
 them. She was a perfect reflector, throwing her light 
 upon others, and not suffering thereby herself. ^Minnie 
 had a sorry day of it ; first, Sylvia had lectured her, then 
 Juvenal, and lastly, Dorcas commenced questioning, but 
 this latter did it, as she ever acted with her beloved 
 niece, in kindness. As for the others, they would fain 
 have bent her to their separate wills ; but JNIinnie had 
 learned to judge for herself coolly and dispassionately, 
 else where would she have been, occufring as it did, that 
 all three had fixed upon a different object for her hus-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 71 
 
 band ? To Dorcas she was all affection, renderins: fldl 
 justice to that aunt's interest in her, and correct judg- 
 ment ; but it so happens that in affahs of the heart, our 
 very dearest and best Mends are too frequently incapable 
 of judging what woidd be most conducive to our real 
 happiness, though, in a mere worldly point of view, they 
 may be right. A Httle coimsel, a httle guidance, and 
 much sincere interest in our welfare, are the best me- 
 thods after all; certainly not coercion, that makes us 
 infaUibly look with premature dislike on the one for 
 whom we are persecuted. 
 
 " I do wonder, dear aunt,'* said Minnie to the one she 
 loved so well, "why you are so anxious to make me 
 maiTy, never having done so yom'self — how is it?" 
 
 The tiTith never crossed Minnie's mind. Dorcas looked 
 down, and a pale blush of something resembling shame 
 crossed her cheek ; then she looked up with candour and 
 affection. " My dear cliild," she said, " Sylvia would 
 not perhaps like my telling the exact truth, which is this, 
 that in fact no one ever asked either of us I " 
 
 " Is it possible I" exclaimed her niece, amazed beyond 
 measure. How coidd she, womed as she was by an 
 excess of suitors, guess the extraordinary position of a 
 woman who never had one ? and aimt Dorcas had been 
 assuredly pretty, and still was very comely. " My dear 
 aunt," she cried again, after a silence of thought on both 
 sides. " It must have been your owti faidt. Oh I pray, 
 endeavom- to induce Sylvia to seek a husband for her- 
 self, and leave me alone ; or do make her busy herself 
 for uncle, and then you and I shall be at peace. I
 
 72 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 shouldn't nice you to marry. I'm very selfish, clear aunt ; 
 but I should be so much afraid of losing your love," and 
 she fondly kissed her cheek. 
 
 " I never shall now, dear Minnie; but when you marry, 
 you ^^ ill lo^e another better than me— I shall only be 
 your aunt, and so it should be." 
 
 " Do you know," answered her niece, fixing her sweet 
 eyes upon her, " I often think I never shall marry ; 
 I have heard so much about it, that the subject has be- 
 come quite distasteful to me." 
 
 " Oh ! you will change your mind, Minnie, when the 
 one you can, and should love, comes." 
 
 "What do you mean, aunt, by should love?" 
 
 " There are those in the world we ought to guard our 
 affections against ; their loss might bring misery." 
 
 " Whom are they ? would — would, now, supposing an 
 impossible case — would Mr. Tremenhere, if he loved me, 
 be such a one ? " 
 
 "Why do you think of him, child?" and her aunt 
 looked scrutinizingly in her face. 
 
 " Oh, because," answered the blushing Minnie, " he 
 is the first stranger I have met likely to enter into my 
 ideas of such a case ; all the constant visiters here have 
 tlie consent of some one of my relatives, — the mere 
 acquaintances I meet when we go any where, have no- 
 thing against them, — I daresay, if I liked one of them, 
 ^very one of you would, though perhaps reluctantly, say 
 ' yes ;' but Mr. Tremenhere — he is different, poor fellow ! 
 How I pity him ! I do indeed, aunt, and he is so agree- 
 able."
 
 MILES TREMEXnEKE. 73 
 
 The aunt, umvorldly mse as she was, had fallen into 
 a reverie ; before she aroused herself to reply, the sound 
 of carriage-wheels without dreAV her attention to the 
 window. ^Minnie was the first there, — " Whom have 
 we here? two ladies I" Pier aunt was beside her. 
 
 " VThj Minnie, these are your aunts, Lady Eipley and 
 Dora I " exclaimed she. 
 
 "That Dora !" cried her niece, as a tall handsome irirl 
 stepped from the carriage ; " how altered she is, — I won- 
 der if she ^Y\}1 know me?" and thouo-h somethins: like a 
 chill had fallen on her heart at sight of her cousin, she 
 sprang across the room to meet her. It was not Dora's 
 beauty which had pained Minnie — she did not know what 
 jealousy was then, certainly, of mere personal charms — 
 but it was the chiUing influence of pride which spoke in 
 every movement of her cousin ; even in the act of stej> 
 ping from her carriage, she looked Hke a priestess of that 
 spirit, folloAving in her footsteps. As she entered the 
 hall, ^linnie — simple and beautiful Minnie — stood half 
 abashed before her. Dora's fine eyes were wandering 
 over the group, as she coldly returned the embraces of 
 her aunt Sylvia and Juvenal ; at last they rested on 
 Minnie, who had just appeared, — the cold smile warmed, 
 and the cousins were in each other's arms. 
 
 " Dear Minnie ! " said Dora, " I have longed so much 
 to see you," and she embraced her tenderly. 
 
 " I was afraid you would have forgotten me," answered 
 the delighted girl. 
 
 " Oh ! I never forget those whom I have loved ; I often 
 have wished you with me in Italy ;" and her fine face.
 
 74 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 lit up with warmth and sincerity, became perfectly beau- 
 tiful. The girls sat clown side by side, and hand in hand, 
 conversing, after Dora had duly embraced all. Lady 
 Eipley was different to the other members of her family. 
 She appeared more like a composition of all, with a cloak 
 of pride over the whole, in which she completely wrapped 
 herself up ; only now and then, when the cloak opened, 
 some of her realities slipped out. She had less of 
 Dorcas than of either of the others, — silly as Juvenal, 
 worldly like Sylvia, and a little bit of Dorcas's good- 
 nature composed the whole. She had married, most 
 unexpectedly, one far above herself in rank and station. 
 Not having had time to familiarize herself with the po- 
 sition before entering upon it, she plunged in, and be- 
 came for awhile overwhelmed. The country gentleman's 
 daughter forgot the real dignity of the ladylike person, 
 who may pass without comment any where in the rank 
 of countess, so suddenly forced upon her ; then, too, the 
 Earl was one of the coldest, proudest men in the world, 
 and lived long enough to engraft a sufficient quantity of 
 the vice of pride (when attached to mere station) upon 
 his only child's really noble nature, for a dozen scions of 
 nobility. Lady Dora's keen perception, as she grew up, 
 readily detected the real from the assumed ; and having 
 much loved, respected, and looked up to her father, his 
 vice became a virtue in her eyes, — a natural one ; 
 whereas her mother's assumption of it, made her, with- 
 out becoming undutiful, still look upon her as a merely 
 bad copy; consequently, her aunts and uncle became 
 sharers of her species of contempt. Indeed, she had carried
 
 MILES TREMEXnEEE. 75 
 
 that impression away with her Avhen she quitted them 
 and England, three years before, for Italy; and the 
 knowledge of the world acquired since then, had rather 
 strengthened the feeling. Since that period she had 
 lost her father, and this keenly-felt loss hardened the 
 girl's softer emotions. She seemed incapable of any thing 
 like warmth of affection; for, the first ebullition of joy 
 over on seeing Minnie, whom she really liked better 
 than any person almost in the world, she sat like a 
 beautifid statue, just wanned enough to life to speak 
 and listen; — the face had become colourless again, the 
 smile cold and proud, and the haughty eyes and haugh- 
 tier brow, seemed to glance or bend with equal indiffe- 
 rence on all around her. She was perfect in her beauty 
 as Minnie — one, "was the damask rose for richness, the 
 other, the chaste lily ; for when Dora's colour rose, no- 
 tliing could surpass that ripe sunset glow, — it was mag- 
 nificent fi'om its eastern brightness and depth ; whereas 
 Minnie's never became more than a beautiful blush, 
 flitting and returning like a swallow over a wave. 
 Dora's hair was the very darkest chestnut, yet this 
 it was, a colour seldom seen, notliing resembling black 
 nor bro^vn, but the exact colour of the nut itself, rich 
 and mellow. Her eyes — there was her charm of face, 
 they were so dark and lustrous — velvet eyes, with the sun 
 shining on them ; extravagant, too, for they expended 
 their glances right and left on all, not fi:-om a desh-e to 
 slay her thousands, but, like the donation of the rich and 
 proud to the beggar, she flung her gold away, not 
 caring who might gather it up ; it was flung from an
 
 76 MILE3 TREMENIIERE. 
 
 inexhaustible source of wealth — it was the natural love 
 of expenditure, inherent in the generous mind giving of 
 its profusion. No one had ever seen her move quickly, 
 scarcely even as a child ; when she rose from her seat, 
 she seemed to rise by some quiet galvanism, ma- 
 jestically, gracefully, but without energy or effort ; so it 
 was with all; grace presided over all — cold natural grace. 
 Where her mother used violent force to seem dlirnified, 
 and often thus destroyed the lady, Dora without a 
 thought, so to seem, was an empress in majesty. Minnie 
 was slight and girlish, her cousin matured in form, 
 thougli not too much so for her height and bearing, with 
 a waist the hand might almost have circled ; one curl 
 on either side of her oval face fell quite to that slender 
 waist in unrestrained perfection, heavy and glossy, veil- 
 ing, but not concealing the beautiful, but strongly marked 
 eyebrow. 
 
 The cousins escaped as soon as possible to INIinnie's 
 room ; there is a natural restraint ever felt by the least 
 checked before their elders — girls have a language apart 
 of their own. Alas ! for the wintry day, when the falling 
 snow of worldly care chills the ideahty of thought, and 
 brings to the lip only the sterner realities of life. The 
 two sat and talked of old days, even to them. Dora spoke 
 of Italy, of her father's death soon after she and ^linnie 
 parted, and the proud eyes forgot their pride when na- 
 ture bade them weep — how Minnie loved her then ! 
 there was so much softness in Iter nature. She folded 
 her gentle arms round Dora, and soothed her so lovingly, 
 that the eyes looked up upon her in gratitude and affec-
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 77 
 
 tion. Then, to divert her attention, Minnie told her all 
 her troubles — squire, parson, and lawyer; but she did not 
 breathe the name of Miles Tremenhere. He had so com- 
 pletely won upon her sympathy, that she dreaded to hear 
 Dora speak of him, either in contempt, or else mere 
 worldly policy; so they sat and talked, until Lady 
 Eipley summoned her daughter, by the voice of a French 
 maid, " to di-ess for dinner." 
 
 " I am sure," whispered Aimt Sylvia to IMrs. Gillett 
 on the stairs, when she was retiring to bed that nioht, 
 " I and Lady Eipley shall not agree long, if she prolongs 
 her stay ; for 'tis quite absiurd, Gillett, the idea of her 
 dressing in such a style for our quiet dinner, only our- 
 selves, and her annoyance because my niece. Lady Dora, 
 refused to do the same ! 'It is putting notions of dress 
 into Miss Minnie's head, which will make her look do^vn 
 on every one here. I shall tell her so to-morrow; I always 
 like to give my candid opinion, though she mightn't 
 like it!" 
 
 " So I would, ^liss," answered her agreeing listener. 
 " For no one can be a better judge of every thing than 
 yourself; for I'm sure, as I say to every body, * just look 
 at our JMiss Sylvia, why, she's like a busy bee ! she's a 
 pattern — that she is ! ' " 
 
 Mrs. Gillett walked do^\Ti the corridor, and, coming 
 from her daughter's room, she met Lady Ripley. 
 
 . "Ah, Gillett!" said that lady, patronisingly ; "I'm 
 glad to see you looking so well." 
 
 Gillett curtsied to the ground. " I'm sure, my 
 lady," she replied, "it's only the reflections of yoiur
 
 78 MILES TREMENHEllE. 
 
 ladyship's presence which make me look so ; for, as I've 
 just been saying below, it is a pleasure to see a lady look 
 as you do, younger by years than you were, years ago, 
 and know too, what's due to herself, and dress every 
 day as if she was going to court ! Ah ! it's a pity the 
 dear ladies. Miss Sylvia and Miss Dorcas, is so plain in 
 their ways ; it's quite spoihng sweet ^liss Minnie, who 
 cares no more for dress or state than if she had been 
 born, if I may be so bold as to say it of your ladyship's 
 niece, in a poor cottage of a mother always knitting 
 woolly stockings ! " 
 
 " I must see what's to be done, Gillett," answered her 
 ladyship in a queenly tone ; " I will have some serious 
 conversation with my brother about her to-morrow." 
 
 "If your ladyship will please not to say / said any 
 thing," whispered the politic housekeeper. 
 
 "I never quote other's opinions, my good woman," 
 was the haughty reply, as she sailed into her room, with 
 a majestic " Good-night to you." 
 
 " To think," soliloquized Gillett, as she toiled up a 
 second flight of stairs, " she shovdd be so amazing proud 
 now, when I remember her setting herself off to the best 
 advantage to attract the notice of our passan then, the 
 late recmubent!" There in an hour in every one's life, 
 when he or she is candid and natural ; generally it falls 
 between locking the bedroom door at night, and snuff- 
 ing out the candle — 'tis an hour of thoughtfid soli- 
 loquy !
 
 MILES TEEMEXIIERE. 79 
 
 CHxVPTEFv YII. 
 
 People are early in the country — " early to bed, early 
 to rise." It was just ten by Minnie's hall clock as ^Irs. 
 Gillett became confidential to herself, and at that hour 
 another person, some distance from Gatestone, was 
 stniofG^lino; "svith the voices of natm'e and truth united, 
 which runo; the word " shame" in his ears — this was the 
 sqmre. He sat alone. All the servants had retired; 
 his o^^Ti man even dismissed. He sat in a small study 
 adjoining his bedroom — not that he studied much, but 
 the room had so been planned and arranged, and so he 
 left it. A few additions of his o^vn had been made, 
 such as a brace of favomite pistols, a gun or two, sprjs, 
 whips, fishing-rods, and their accompaniments ; the 
 books on then* neglected shelves were as silent memor}'. 
 They spoke to no one ; no one sought or conversed with 
 them; then- thoughts were sealed within their ovra 
 breasts — like glowing eyes gazing on the sightless, no 
 looks lit up to meet their glances. Beautifrd, cheering 
 thino-s, amono^ ' which we might Uve alone for ever, nor 
 feel om' lonehness. 3Ian woiJd perhaps sink ofi" into 
 di'owsy rest ; but the soul creeping forth, cheered by the 
 stillness^ could seek its companions in those leaves cling-
 
 80 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 ing together with the damp of years, and live with them 
 in long ages gone by, when they were permitted to speak 
 above the mere practical sj)irits of tlie present day. 
 Poetry was there in sorrowing maidenhood, as she 
 glanced upwards at an old mandolin with chords, sus- 
 pended against the wall, the loving once, now dumb 
 suitor, who has sung her praises, and wooed her to 
 smile ! It was strange that old mandolin should be still 
 there : it w^as the one on which Miles's mother had often 
 played and sung to him in infancy and boyhood ! It 
 was strange, then, that Marmaduke Burton should sit, 
 as he sat on that evening, facing it. While he turned 
 over piles of gloomy-looking papers and parchments, his 
 brow was scowling, more so than usual; his face, that 
 cold, livid colour, which the warm heart never avows as 
 its index. At his feet lay an uncouth-looking bulldog; 
 he seldom was seen without this companion. Somehow, 
 if the dog were absent, Mamiaduke became uneasy; 
 cowards seldom rely upon themselves alone. Every 
 ])aper, as it passed through his hands, w^as carefully ex- 
 amined, and then as carefully folded up and placed 
 within a large drawer by his side, evidently one of some 
 old cabinet. " Nothing," he whispered to himself. 
 " Dalby said there was nothing — no proof; for, after all, I 
 would not have it on my conscience to say, I kneiu there 
 was proof, and withheld it. 'Tis not for me to search for 
 writings or w^itnesses against myself," this was added 
 after a thoughtful pause. After awhile he continued, 
 " Besides, it is scarcely probable that old Tremenhere 
 |3ver married that poor Spanish girl; those girls at Gib-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 81 
 
 raltar are not of very noted virtue. I should have been 
 a fool indeed, to sit down quietly and allow another to 
 enjoy mine by right, from a mere idea of honour. Had 
 he succeeded, he would not have shared vdth me. I did. 
 offer him a competency," all this time he had been as- 
 sorting the papers. "Nothing here," he continued. 
 " TVTiat's this ? oh ! a letter from old Tremenhere, \^Titten 
 after his mar — after his connection " (he corrected him- 
 self) "with that woman Helene Nunoz, he, evidently 
 being here, and she still abroad, in Paris — eh? not Gib- 
 raltar. What says he?" For some moments he atten- 
 tively read. " I have seen two or three of his letters," 
 he said thoughtfully, " among old papers, and in all he 
 speaks of one ^Estree.' Who can he be? here it is 
 again." He read aloud a passage, accentuating every 
 word, and dwellins^ on his o^\ti final comment thouijht- 
 fully for some moments. " 'Do you see D'Estree often? 
 Is he kind as ever to my Helena? his child, as he calls 
 her. I should much like ours to be christened by him ; 
 mio^ht he not be induced to return A\ith us?' This 
 must have been some clergyman or priest," was the 
 thoughtful comment. At that moment his dog arose 
 uneasily from the carpet at his feet, and walked towards 
 the door. " AYliat's the matter. Viper?" asked his 
 master, starting timidly. " Look to it, dog — good dog ; " 
 but the dog returned quietly to its former place, and 
 Marmaduke concluded the letter, which only spoke of 
 love, and regret at absence. In the concluding hues 
 again Viper moved to the door, and snuffed the afr be- 
 neath the crevice. His master grew uneasy; he watched 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 the dog, and, while doing so, tore up the letter he held, 
 and flung it into a basket beneath the table. Viper 
 moved about whining, not in anger, but more in satis- 
 faction and impatience of restraint. The squire arose, 
 and somewhat nervously approached the door. These 
 letters had unnerved him ; his hand was on the lock, the 
 dog sprung up with pleasure ; another hand turned the 
 handle from the outside, it opened, and Mary Bums 
 entered. As she did so, the dog fawned upon her. 
 
 "I might have guessed it!" ejaculated Marmaduke, 
 falling back and scowling upon her. " Only you woidd 
 Viper meet in such a manner ; the dog's faithful to old 
 acquaintance, I see." She stood quite still, silent, and 
 very pale. " Down, poor animal, do\\Ti ! " she whispered 
 at last to the dog, which was jumping up to caress her 
 hand. 
 
 " I have yet to learn why you are here ?" asked Mar- 
 maduke, sullenly, " and how?" 
 
 " I came to restore you this," she uttered, holding up 
 a key in her hand ; " this will explain how I am here." 
 
 " Oh, true ! I had forgotten you came through the 
 quiet gate leading by the shrubbery; I trust the remin- 
 iscence of the past, which such a walk must iaevitably 
 have awakened, procured you pleasm'e?" 
 
 " Sneer on, Marmaduke Burton ! I came prepared to 
 suffer all to-night. I came to restore you this, and also 
 to implore a fiivour at yom' hands?" 
 
 " At mine ! what can I do for you ? I thought the 
 hour of solicitation had passed between us — wiU you 
 not be seated ?" Pie offered her a chair ; she appeared
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 83 
 
 choking with emotion ; and vet, though ahnost power- 
 less to stand, waved her hand in token of dissent, as he 
 pushed a seat towards her, and merely laid one hand 
 upon the back of it for support. 
 
 " As you A^ill," he said coldly, noticing the action ; 
 " and perhaps you will pardon my asking you as much 
 as possible to abridge this visit ; you see I am engaged." 
 He pointed to the table of papers. 
 
 " I come," she said at last with great effort, " to im- 
 ])lore one favour at your hands, as some mitigation of the 
 deep remorse I feel. Miles Tremenhere is here — I do 
 beseech you," here she clasped her hands, " not to make 
 my burthen heavier to bear, by seeking to injm'e him 
 farther." 
 
 "Woman I" he cried, standing erect before her, "do 
 you remember to whom you are speaking ? How have 
 I injured liim ? Am I not heir — lawfid heh' — here ? I 
 wish to hear no more ; go, you have chosen to place a 
 bamer yourself between us — henceforth, 'tis as you have 
 willed it. I offered you independence and oblivion of 
 all, away from this, and you have refused, so you must 
 take the consequences." 
 
 " I beseech you !" she exclaimed again, not heeding his 
 words, " to have pity on that man, for the sake of his 
 mother, who was one to me." 
 
 " That is perceptible," he said scornfully, " in the 
 
 good fi-uit of her cultivation — vice seldom produces " 
 
 " Hold !" she cried, springing towards him, and grasp- 
 ing his arm ; " revile me as you will, but not her — she 
 was pure as an angel, and you know it I And I adjure
 
 84 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 you by the wrong you have done her son — to spare him 
 now ; let him go in peace." 
 
 " Woman, I bid you go/' he cried, shaking her touch 
 from him, " before my patience becomes exhausted ; 
 what am I doing, or going to do to that man ? Let him 
 go as he will, I shall not molest him unless he cross my 
 path ; then woe betide him, whatever may be done, I'll 
 do, nor ask whether he be relative or stranger." 
 
 ** I only pray you," she continued, " should he seek 
 you, as I fear he may, to be temperate, remembering 
 what you were to each other, what you are in blood." 
 She tried to soothe ; had that not been the case, she 
 would have fearlessly spoken all her thought of his 
 treachery. 
 
 " Why do you think he will seek me ?" he asked, and 
 the eye, ever uncertain in its glance, shrank from her's. 
 He began to dread a possible meeting. 
 
 "Because, because !" she hesitated a moment ; then, 
 by an effort over her emotion, added more resolutely, 
 " because he knows all, and Miles is not one silently to 
 pass over wrong to one he once loved and respected." 
 
 " Oh, that's it — is it ?" Rising, he advanced a step 
 towards the trembling woman; but suddenly paused, 
 and hastily tm^ned round. " ^Yliat was that ?" he ex- 
 claimed, looking fixedly at a door beliind liim, at which 
 Viper had sprung growling. 
 
 The study had two doors in it, one leading through 
 the corridor — the one by which !Mary had entered ; the 
 other leading to a dressing-room, adjoining Marmaduke's 
 bedroom — it was at this one the dog lay growhng.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 85 
 
 "Curse tliat dog!" he cried angrily, "he makes one 
 fanciful and nervous. Did you hear any thing ?" 
 
 "Nothing," she rejoined, trembling mth a strano-e 
 tremor. 
 
 Marmaduke tiuTied paler too than even he generally 
 was — it was a coward pallor. Reaching a book from the 
 table, he flung it at Viper, who startled, but not cowed, 
 sprung under the table, upsetting the basket as he did 
 so, which contained the torn papers ; and then, as his 
 master turned away, he returned again to his post at 
 the door, and commenced scratchinGc and o^rowHnor at it. 
 Marmaduke uttered a deep oath, and, seizing the animal 
 by the throat, hastily opened the door leading towards 
 the corridor, and flung him out. As he tmnied his back, 
 a sudden, uncontrollable impidse seized Mary to stoop, 
 and, unseen by him, grasp and conceal a paper which 
 had fallen from the basket as Viper upset it. She felt 
 that any thing written by that man might be of value to 
 Miles ; moreover, she saw how he (Marmaduke) had been 
 employed with old papers and parchments, which made 
 the one she held possibly more valuable. 
 
 " Novv'^,'' he said, closing the door, " let us have a few 
 final words, and then leave me; and if we meet again at 
 your seeking, it ^^ill be a day of sorrow to you. I wish 
 to do you no injury, for I liked you once — do not mis- 
 take," he hastily added, seeing she was about to speak ; 
 " I never loved you — no, that was man's right of speech 
 when I said so; we are bound to employ the same 
 weapons others use against ourselves." 
 
 " What do you mean ?"
 
 86 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 " I mean lying and deceit. You never loved me — / 
 never had that feeling for you ; you liave this evening 
 shown me why you became mine. lie had loved you, 
 and then forsook — revenge dictated the act which 
 made you give me a claim to call you mine; dislike 
 to every thing fostering affection for that impostor 
 and base-born hound, made me resolve to win you, and 
 well have I succeeded! False to his affection for 
 you, which you have confessed, and thereby made 
 me doubly glad in having ruined you ! false to me, 
 if he so please it, I doubt not. Take back that gar- 
 den key, woman, how do you know but that this 
 impostor may some day be master here, and you require 
 it for your secret visits to the manor-house ? Verily, you 
 love the place ! feline in your affections, 'tis the place, 
 not person, you care for!" As he concluded, he drew 
 the deep-drawn breath of a man suffocating with over- 
 whelming thoughts, bursting like deadly missiles from a 
 shell, scattering death around; for, as he discharged tliem 
 forth, the woman, stricken with shame and sorrow, 
 cowered down, and buried her face in her hands. Mar- 
 maduke's deep sigh, as he concluded, was echoed by one 
 still deeper — it was a groan, and came from the doorway 
 leading into the dressing-room ; he had but time to turn 
 half round, when a heavy hand was on his arm. 
 
 " Unsay those* words, ' impostor' and * base-born 
 hound,' " said Miles Tremenhere ('twas he) beneath his 
 breath ; " or the world shall add the other to them, and 
 a true one, ' avenger ; ' — as I am a living man this night, 
 unless you do, or you, or I shall not quit this room alive ! ''
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 87 
 
 The presence even of that trembling woman imparted 
 a feeling of protection to Marmaduke's coward heart. By 
 a sudden jerk he disengaged his arm, and TN-ith one stride 
 reached the opposite door. To think and do had been the 
 work of an instant, the coward's self-shield through an- 
 other. With a trembling hand he opened the door, and 
 called " Viper," and the dog sprang in. No word was 
 needed; the brave brute knew all enemies to his master, 
 and a second spring would have brought him to ]Miles's 
 throat, had that man not, foreseeing treachery, been on 
 his guard. With one blow of his small, but muscular fist, 
 he felled the animal, and, before it coidd recover itself, 
 his hand grasped its throat; the woman shrieked — a 
 true woman's heart is tender to every livino^ thino^. 
 " Spare it, Miles !" she cried. " Poor, faithful brute !" 
 
 But Miles had no thought othenA'ise ; while ^Marma- 
 duke stood in a species of panic, which rendered further 
 eifort for an instant vain, the other strode to the door 
 near which he stood, and, flinging the dog forth, calmly 
 turned the key, and placed it in liis pocket. This act 
 alarmed ^larmaduke ; there is something to the cow- 
 ardly man fearfid in the calm of a resolute one. He tiu'ned 
 hastily to fly, his hand was on the lock of the door lead- 
 ing to the corridor, but another's reached his before he 
 turned it, and, without one uttered word, he felt his 
 nerveless grasp ^\'ithdra^vn. The key grated in the lock 
 beneath ^liles's fingers ; he saw him, too, ^^^th perfect 
 composure, look around, and then, a feat of child's play 
 to him, tear doAvn the bell-rope, to prevent the possibihty 
 of Mamiaduke's summoning asistance; this done, Miles
 
 88 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 turned calmly round to where his cousin stood. JMary 
 had dropped, powerless to stand, in a chair, and, with 
 eyes distended by terror, watched every movement of 
 the quiet desperation JNIiles portrayed. 
 
 " Now," he said, in untrembling resolution, as he fixed 
 his eyes on his cousin, the stem brow knit over their 
 intense gaze, " retraction full, and immediate ! " 
 
 " Of what ?" asked the other, endeavouring to seem 
 calm and unconscious. 
 
 " Of * impostor,' and * base-bom hound !' " 
 
 " Do you call it a noble act, to enter, as you have done 
 this evening here, with the connivance of that traitress, 
 and play eavesdropper?" cried Marmaduke, endeavour- 
 ing to evade the demand of reti^action of his tongue's 
 hasty aspersion. 
 
 " 'Tis false, that too!" answered IVIiles. "I followed 
 this girl, 'tis true ; I feared she might be again led 
 to attempt suicide, — I saw her enter by the shrubbery 
 gate, — strangely enough,!, too, had purposed visiting you 
 this night by that entrance, to which I also have a key,'* 
 (he held one up as he spoke,) "mine, since when we 
 often entered thereby together, cousin IMannaduke. 
 But I had intended my visit to have been made some 
 hours later, deeming that possibly the hospitable lord of 
 the manor-house might keep open house for his nume- 
 rous friends, whose pleasures I would not have inter- 
 rupted for worlds. ]\Iy business is of a private nature ; 
 but, as she entered, I followed, and, knowing all the 
 intricacies of the old place, why, I came by the private 
 stair to the adjoining rooms; these rooms were mine I"
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 89 
 
 The man's voice slightly trembled as he uttered these 
 words; for, in looking round, his eye rested on the old man- 
 dolin ; it awakened a chord in his heart, not hke its o^vn 
 — broken. Marmaduke perceived this emotion, and 
 deemed it an advantage gained, not having seen whence 
 arose that softened tone ; but Mary had seen, and her 
 eye following his, the tears gathered in a heavy cloud 
 over her vision, as she looked up to the thing to which 
 she had often danced, a light-hearted cliild; for her 
 heart was now as powerless of joy as the mandohn of 
 tone ; error and death had worked then' will in stillino: 
 both. 
 
 ^* I shoidd like much to know why you are here ? why 
 you purposed coixdng?" inqim-ed Marmaduke, gaining 
 courage. 
 
 " Before I reply to that," answered ^Nliles, himself once 
 more, " I must have retraction. I tell you so ; so let it 
 be quickly done, for she heard it, — to her you shall unsay 
 it, and then our intendew must be alone." 
 
 '' I will not leave you, !Miles," uttered the gu'l, clasping 
 his hand, which hung down, as she crept beside hiTn ; 
 but he neither heard nor saw her. 
 
 "T\Tien I came to this neio^hbom'hood asrain," said 
 [Miles, " it was not to seek you ; it was for one reason 
 only — to \4sit in peace some old haunts, old friends. I 
 yet have a few left — on all, I found your hand. He 
 who knew me fi-om cliildhood, my father's respected 
 tenant, you have striven to drive forth — and, look there," 
 he pointed to ^lary ; " this is your work too, cowardly 
 villain, to war Avith a woman, and urge her to destruction
 
 90 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 by goading her to madness with falsehood and calumny ; 
 but this must pass awhile. First you shall clear from your 
 lip by retraction the words you have said of my sainted 
 mother; your act has, /or awhile — mind I say only ^br 
 awJdle — cast a slur upon her fame ; but the lion only 
 slumbers, cousin Marmaduke — he will awake soon. But 
 this night was the first time you ever, in my hearing, 
 uttered the words to blast her ; indeed, until to-night you 
 have kept hidden from my vengeance. AVhen you com- 
 menced your worthy suit against me, after the first day 
 you left others to complete it, and fled, hidden like a 
 reptile in sunlight, — you came forth at night to spread 
 your venom around ; but for all that, a day of retribution 
 will come, only for to-night, I demand retraction." 
 
 Marmaduke felt chilled : there was something fearful 
 in Miles' s resolute calmness. 
 
 " If," he said, yet not daring to look up, " you will 
 go and take that woman in peace (for I would not have 
 it known, for many reasons, that she had been here,) I 
 will say this, that I ought perhaps not to have spoken 
 before her of family aifairs." 
 
 " ^lan ! " cried Miles, in a voice of thunder, " say all 
 was a lie, an invention; it will not take your devil- 
 bought position here from you, but retract every word 
 you shall !^^ 
 
 " Hush I " whispered Marmaduke, as the other strode 
 towards him, putting up his hands to ward off his 
 coming ; " hush ! some one may hear us, and report 
 this visit." 
 
 " Whom does he fear ?" asked Miles, turning to Mary%
 
 31ILES TKEMEXHERE. 91 
 
 " He fears lest Miss Dalzell should be informed, pro- 
 bably," uttered the shrinking woman. 
 
 "Mss Dalzell I"" cried Miles, awakening as from a 
 dream ; " she will never become the wife of this man ; it 
 would be profaning a creature stainless as the created 
 day, before man made it blush for his sin ; or looks and 
 words only rank as liars." 
 
 Marmaduke glared on him, but durst not speak; he 
 was awed by his cousin's sternness. 
 
 "Speak I" commanded Miles again impatiently; "I 
 have yet a task to perform before we part, so hasten 
 this ; she must not see the rest. Come, man ! " he 
 uttered contemptuously, as the other visibly trembled, 
 " speak the words : I promise you, reckless as / am of 
 life, I have no piu^ose of taldng yom's, if you S2:)eal'.'^ 
 There was that about him which tenified the other ; it 
 was the first time they had met out of court since the 
 suit. 
 
 " I spoke hastily, angrily," stammered Marmaduke at 
 last, his eyes bent on the ground, one of his hands ner- 
 vously tiuning a letter on the table, the other in his 
 bosom ; " but this woman goaded me to it." 
 
 " 'Tis well," uttered Miles scornfully, " well done, to 
 accuse another to shield our own fault. You know 
 my mother to have been pure as ever woman was, only 
 the law wanted proof 
 
 "I beheve she was a good woman," ejaculated the 
 other, fearing some snare before "witnesses. 
 
 " Fellow, " cried Miles, seeing his hesitation, " I am 
 not here to catch you in your words : you have calum-
 
 92 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 niated, you shall restore ; you have lied, you shall unlie. 
 Do you not know in your heart that, though proof be 
 wanting, my mother was a wife?" lie made a move- 
 ment towards where his cousin stood. 
 
 " I believe it," fell from the lips of the awed coward ; 
 " but you know the law will have " 
 
 "Enough!" exclaimed Miles, waving his hand con- 
 temptuously. "I have devoted my life, with aU its 
 energies, to prove her to have been such, not for the 
 sake of the land and tenements around us, but to re- 
 build in splendour an angel's darkened fame. Now, 
 Mary, you have heard his retraction, leave us awhile, I 
 will rejoin you before you have quitted the grounds." 
 
 " Let me stay, I beseech you. Miles," she whispered, 
 her frame trembling with fear as he approached to put 
 her forth. 
 
 " There can be no secrets she may not hear," ha- 
 zarded Marmaduke, in terror himself at the idea of 
 being alone with Miles. All the fear he had experienced 
 as a boy of the other, when as children they quarrelled, 
 stood before him, for Miles was of strong build, and 
 great stature; he seemed to tower above his cousin, 
 though actually less in height. A strange expression 
 passed over Miles's face, as he looked from the one to 
 the other. 
 
 "Well," he said, and a grim smile stole across 
 his lip, and then disappeared — a mere phantom — 
 "perhaps it is just it should be so. The man who 
 honourably offends us, we meet in honourable fight ; the 
 cur which, coward like, yelps at and tears our heels,
 
 MILES TPvEMEXHERE. 93 
 
 what does it deserve ? A cur's chastisement," he added, 
 not waiting for a reply. Before Marmaduke had time 
 to tliink, or the woman had time to rush between them, 
 ISliles seized him by the collar, and at the same moment, 
 dra^^Tng a thickly knotted whip from his pocket, with 
 all the force of his vigorous arm, he applied the lash over 
 the other's shoulders. Mary shideked in tensor, and 
 sunk fainting on her chair. 
 
 "Howl like a hound in your craven fear!" shouted 
 ^liles, as his cousin groaned and -v^Tithed beneath 
 the lash, helpless in that strong hand. " Come Marv, 
 gu'l, look up ; this is for your wrong, a coward's act — a 
 cur's pimishment. There," he continued, flinging him 
 almost lifeless from hun at last, and panting himself with 
 the effort. "You'll remember the first meetinof with 
 ]Miles Tremenhere; — one tiling more," he took dovm his 
 mother's mandoHn from its place. " Poor, senseless 
 thing," he said, " yet speaking words of love to me, you 
 have been made to look on desecrating words, deeds, 
 and thoughts, in this man's presence. You have lost 
 your purity, hke all of us, since she left you!" In his 
 bitterness he forgot the suffering woman, who was weep- 
 ing bitterly beside him. " Desecrated no more, speech- 
 less henceforth, and mute to all of the ruin around you ! " 
 he put the thing, which seemed as a breathing creatm'e 
 to him, beneath liis foot, and \^^Lth one stamp of his heel 
 it flew into pieces. Crash after crash succeeded, 
 until only a mass lay without shape on the floor. Mar- 
 maduke was speechless with terror and pain. 
 
 "Come Mary, my gu'l, look up now!" said Miles,
 
 94 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 kindly taking her hand. " I have avenged you as weU 
 as I can ; he will not forget us— come !" 
 
 And, almost carrying the terror-stricken girl, he passed 
 out by the corridor, carefully locking the door on the 
 other side, to avoid interruption, and so he quitted his 
 ow^n halls.
 
 31ILES TKEMENHERE. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MiXNiE had been so severely lectured by all, about lier 
 too frequent visits to tbe cottage of Mary Bums, and 
 other rambles in thoughtfiil loneliness, that she felt em- 
 barrassed how to act. We have seen Dora was not yet 
 wholly in her confidence ; there was as yet a barrier of 
 three years' width between them, which she hesitated at 
 overleaping at once — it was one separating girlliood from 
 womanhood. She had no one to consult but herself, and 
 in her great anxiety to know what had been decided up- 
 on for this poor girl, in whom she felt so much interest, 
 as ^Ir. Skaife had informed her, that assuredly Tremen- 
 here would decide immediately something about her, she 
 resolved to rise mth the early bird of morn, which rose to 
 song and heaven beneath her mndows, and seek Mary's 
 cottage. Only the gardener was at work, as she brushed 
 the dew off the smootlily turfed la^vn, at six the morning, 
 after Tremenhere's meeting ^vith his cousin, and bidding 
 the man a kind good-morning, she hastened through the 
 shrubbery, then light as a fawn skimmed over the 
 path-fields, and reached Clary's cottage. The shutters 
 were closed, and all in stillness ; but the hour was so 
 early, that she hesitated about awakening the inmates.
 
 96 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 For some moments she stood irresolute, and walked 
 romid the spot. There is something in internal desola- 
 tion, which always leaves an outward trace on the fea^ 
 tures, as on an abode. Something of this she felt ; and 
 at last gently rapped at the door — all was silent ; then, 
 fehe repeated it — and each time with the like result. 
 There was a latch, so she raised it, looked in, and then 
 the cold truth became apparent ; the place was tenant- 
 less ! — all gone, and not a vestige left. Mnnie stood in 
 mute astonishment. How should she be enabled to dis- 
 cover the girl's fate ? — from Mr. Skaife, perhaps ; and 
 then a cliill came over her warm heart. Had this girl, 
 w^hom she had so befriended, quitted without one word to 
 express gratitude, or resolution of well-doing ? and then, 
 a somethino: crossed her mind of reorret. She should have 
 liked to see Miles Tremenhere once more ; he was so 
 manly under his persecution by Marmaduke Burton. 
 It is painful in our path through life to have that path 
 crossed by a vision which flits away, only leaving a trace, 
 and never again seen — such things often leave a memory 
 for years. Minnie walked sadly home. It is something 
 very undeceiving to the young heart — it's first lesson in 
 worldly selfishness and ingratitude. She felt Mary 
 must be an ungrateful girl so to depart ; and, thinking 
 all this, she walked up to her o^vn room. No one had 
 discovered her departure ; and an hour afterwards she de- 
 scended to the breakfast parlour, which looked over the 
 beautiful lawm and flower-garden, and there she found 
 all the family waiting, except Lady Kipley, who always 
 breakfasted in her own room. The day passed in busy
 
 MILES tre:mexhere. 97 
 
 occupations to all, yet amidst all she felt a chill at heart 
 — the chill of disappointed confidence. ^lany neighbour- 
 ing families called to pay homage to Lady Ripley ; and 
 the report was brought by more than one, that ^Ir. Bur- 
 ton was seriously indisposed, and hints were thrown out 
 of a hostile meeting having taken place between the 
 cousins, as it was kno^\^l that desperate character, (alas ! 
 for those no longer Fortune's favourites,) !Miles Tremen- 
 here, had been seen in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " It must have been late yesterday, then, if they met," 
 said Juvenal, " for Burton was here in the afternoon." 
 
 " It is not knoAvn when it took place, but he has been 
 confined to his bed all day, and his lawyer, Dalby, sent 
 for. Though Mr. Burton denies it hunself, there is 
 every reason to suppose 'tis true," rejoined the visiter. 
 
 " Some means of ascertainino- the fact should be re- 
 sorted to, and such a character banished the neighbour- 
 hood," said Sylvia, acrimoniously ; " it is a natural con- 
 sequence of an ill-conducted mother, that the child should 
 be infamous." 
 
 " Oh, aunt !" cried ^linnie, '' don't say such a wicked 
 thing ; for all say ]Mrs. Tremenhere was good, and mild ! " 
 
 *' Besides," said the peacemaker, Dorcas, " you should 
 give her the benefit of the doubt ; many believe her to 
 have been married, though proof was wanting." 
 
 '^ Always my good, charitable aunt," wliispered 
 Minnie, taking her hand affectionately. 
 
 "Ah I Lady Dora," exclaimed the visiter, rising as 
 the other entered, " I am charmed to see you here once 
 more, and looking so lovely; and her ladyship, too," 
 
 VOL. L H
 
 98 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 continued the old dame, as Lady Ripley sailed into the 
 room after her daughter, " you are really as a sister, in 
 appearance, to your beautiful child !" 
 
 This is one of the most pleasing compliments in the 
 world to a mamma with a growTi-up daughter, — it dead- 
 ens the sound of Time's wheels, as he hurries his chariot 
 onwards, — it is like laying down tan over that rugged 
 road of matronism, which has an ugly stage beyond, 
 beginning with " grand," — Lady Ripley graciously re- 
 cieived the compliment, and, smiling blandly, sHd into a 
 comer of the sofa whereon the visiter sat. "There 
 always has been considered a great likeness existing be- 
 tween us," said the Countess ; " we were painted in full 
 length in one picture at Florence, and the likeness has 
 been considered remarkable, by all visiting Loughton Cas- 
 tle, whither I sent it. By the way, Dora, what was the 
 name of the artist, a very promising young man, whom 
 I patronised at the request of Lord Randoli3h Gray, 
 who had taken him by the hand? I always forget 
 names." 
 
 "Mamma, you should remember that," answered 
 Lady Dora, and a slight colour passed over her cheek ; 
 yet soon fled abashed before the stern, proud eye, it was 
 only momentary ; " for we had a neighbour here, near 
 my aunt's, of the same name — Tremenhere." 
 
 "Tremenhere !" cried several simultaneously; but 
 ^linnie's struck most forcibly on Lady Dora's ear ; she 
 turned towards her, and, looking fixedly upon her, said, 
 '' Do you know Mr. Tremenhere, Minnie?" 
 
 " Only since yesterday," answered she ; " but before
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 99f 
 
 then I had learned to pity him, but we cannot mean the 
 same person : I do not think [Mr. Tremenhere is an 
 artist." 
 
 "How can you tell what he may, or may not be?" 
 said Juvenal, crossly; "I'm sure, after his unnatural 
 conduct towards his cousin, you should wonder at 
 nothing." 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Dora, quite composedly, 
 "they cannot be the same person; but I assm'e you, 
 the iSIr. Tremenhere we vknew, was a distinguished 
 young artist, much sought after, though only an artist. 
 Of his family, we never inquired," 
 
 "This is, in my opinion," said Lady Ripley, "the 
 great error of society abroad ; and I fear it is creeping 
 into English habits — the mixed nature of society. This 
 ^Ir. Tremenhere was received unquestioned, nay, sought 
 after every where, for his talents. 
 
 " It is only the good old English families which know 
 how to keep up proper distinctions," chimed in Sylvia, 
 to the accompaniment of an approving "Assuredly," 
 from the visiter. 
 
 " I think real talent should always be upheld — 'tis a 
 noble gift, to which we owe homage," said the gentle 
 Dorcas. 
 
 ^linnie smiled "yes," but did not like to utter her 
 opinion too decidedly before a stranger; besides, she 
 was thinkinsr. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, [Minnie ?" whispered her 
 cousin. 
 
 " Of the narrow-mindedness of the world," she an-
 
 100 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 swered boldly. "I'd rather see a man ennoble his 
 name by good deeds or talents, than bear a merely 
 empty title — would you not, Dora?" 
 
 "I think position should be upheld and respected," 
 rejoined the other, " or else we should become repub- 
 lican at once. I respect, revere genius ; but even that 
 has, in my opinion, no right to overstep certain bar- 
 riers." Lady Dora Vaughan had been nurtured on 
 family pride, which digests badly, and chokes up many 
 good things with its prejudice. 
 
 Here the conversation took a diiFerent turn. Other 
 persons called, and the Tremenheres — one, or diiFerent 
 individuals — were no more alluded to. Even her cousin's 
 presence, failed entirely to remove the weight from Min- 
 nie's heart, she was so saddened by disappointment, and 
 none came to cheer or possibly explain — for ^Ir. Skaife 
 even had not appeared. The shades of evening set in, 
 and she and her cousin were strollino; too:ether in the 
 various alleys and walks of the beautiful gardens round 
 Gatestone, and in that same half hour ^Irs. Gillett 
 sat in her housekeeper's room, inhaling the odour of 
 the garden into which it looked. She had been trim- 
 ming a cap — something had come over her mind — 
 a question of whether she should put a bow on the 
 said cap, as Mademoiselle Julie, the countess's French 
 maid, had suggested, or leave it alone. The war 
 within herself, between the accustomed snowy lace 
 and a pink ribbon, had ended in a prostration 
 of the nervous system, and consequent sleep en- 
 sued. She was sitting ojiposite the ^^'indow "vvith
 
 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 101 
 
 the cap in one hand, the ribbon in the other, when 
 Morpheus seized upon her, and she slept, and dreamed 
 that she was a Maypole bedizened with, many-coloured 
 ribbons, and the village girls dancing round her. 
 " What curious things one dreams !" to be sure, she ex- 
 claimed waking up at last ; and putting both articles on 
 the table beside her, and she rubbed her eyes, not yet half 
 cleared from sleep. "How them peas do grow!" she 
 continued, gazing dizzily out of the window in the even- 
 ing duskiness and her own dreamy state. " Why, it 
 seems only yesterday I was saying to John Gardener 
 that they never would pod ; and now they darkens up 
 this window, there's no seeing out! Lauks-a-marcy !" 
 she exclaimed, slmnking back in her chair in terror, 
 as a cluster of them, sticks and all, appeared to her half- 
 awakened sight to advance nearer, taking a human form 
 as they did so. " Lauks-a-marcy ! what's a going to 
 happen to us?" Her fears were certainly not ground- 
 less, for the humanized peas drew close to the window, 
 stooped, and stepped in. The vrindow of this room was 
 on a level mth the walk outside ; and through this, Min- 
 nie as a child, and even Dora, had been in the habit of 
 entering as by a door, for a chair generally stood at it, 
 which answered the pm'pose of a mere step to enter by. 
 " Good-evening, ^Irs. Gillett," said Miles Tremen- 
 here, as he did so with perfect composure. "You 
 would not speak to me last time we met ; so I have come 
 to my old haunt, and as I was used to do when a boy, 
 to have some conversation with you." By an involun- 
 tary movement, without uttering a word, she staggered to
 
 102 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 her feet, grasped lier cap and ribbons in her hand, and 
 was making towards the door, but Tremenhere inter- 
 cepted her quietly before she was half-way there. 
 " Stop," he said gently, smiling as he spoke, " I don't 
 mean to harm, or alarm you ; listen quietly to me, 
 good Mrs. Gillett. Come, you cannot have quite forgot- 
 ten the sweet youth who has so often sat in tliis room 
 with you ; and i' faith, too, I remember those hospitable 
 cupboards" (and he glanced around) " wherein I dis- 
 covered many a treasure hidden for ' good Madame Trc- 
 menhere's son,' as you were used to call me." A sigh half 
 choked the lighter tone as he spoke. Gillett stood still, 
 and looked at him. She was not a bad woman — far 
 from it ; but only a very politic one. She would gladly 
 have pleased all parties ; but the peculiarity of the case 
 sometimes, as in Minnie's for instance — forbad it. 
 
 ''Lock the door," she whispered, pointing behind 
 him; "then speak low, and tell me what you want." 
 Her commands were soon obeyed ; and, like two con- 
 spirators, they sat down in a corner and began talking. 
 
 " You see. Master ^liles," she whispered, " times is 
 sadly changed, and I am obliged to be friends with my 
 betters; and, then you know that I don't want to 
 hurt your feehn's — but there have been queer tales about 
 your " 
 
 "Hush!" he said emphatically, grasping her hands, 
 "not a word against her. Mrs. Gillett, you know what 
 she was to all — you know that the day she died, this 
 village had but one voice to bewail her — ^but one sen- 
 tence to mourn her with. * Heaven gave her for awhile
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 103 
 
 to shew what angels may walk the earth' — this you know, 
 !Mr8. Gillett; and you know, too, that she has been 
 cruelly maligned. No," he cried, rising energetically, 
 forgetfiil of all necessity for secrecy, " as Heaven hears 
 me, I do not care for the loss of all, save that, in losing 
 that, a mother's sacred fame has been trampled upon." 
 
 " There," cried ]Mrs. Gillett, following and taking his 
 hand, not without emotion ; " sit down, I know it has 
 been a sad cut-up for you ; but times ^iill change, may- 
 be, and you be better off, and all forgot." 
 
 " Never !" he emphatically exclaimed. " A mother^s 
 wrongs should never be forgotten by a son untfl washed 
 away." 
 
 " Talking of washing away," said his attentive list- 
 ener ; " there be a rumour to-day, that summut hap- 
 pened up at the house last night; you haven't done 
 nothing of that sort to the squire, have you. Master 
 IVines?" 
 
 "No," he repHed, thoughtfully; "my great debt re- 
 mains yet unpaid." 
 
 "Well, I'm sure it's a pity," she added, "that all 
 parties can't agree ; there be plenty for both on 'e up at 
 the manor-house ; and such friends as you were as boys!" 
 
 " Why didn't you speak to me yesterday, Mrs. Gil- 
 lett?" he asked. "Were you afi-aid of Miss Dalzell, or 
 Mr. Skaife ? Both seem to my judgment good, excel- 
 lent creatures, apart from the generahty of the world, 
 for they did not fear the contact with a fallen man ; but 
 I suppose I must not ask you " He appeared to
 
 104 MILES TEEMENIIERE. 
 
 be seeking time or courage to speak his more earnest 
 motive in seeking her. 
 
 " Well," said she at last, hesitatingly, " I must speak 
 it out, though you bid me not; so don't go to be 
 offended, for I wouldn't hurt your feelings for the world ; 
 but them as does wrong, brings much on their children. 
 You have been cruelly treated by your parents, to be 
 left so long in " 
 
 "Mrs. Gillett!" he cried, rising in agitation, "even 
 from you, my old friend, I cannot hear this. Do not 
 let others lead your kind heart to do wrong, even in 
 thought ; some day all shall know my mother as I do, 
 or I will die in the struggle with her enemies." 
 
 " Oh ! don't do nothing of that sort," cried she, mis- 
 taking his meaning; "getting killed a'n't the way to 
 right her ; and this I will say, that a better lady never 
 lived — ^and in the hearts of the poor ; the best home to 
 have, after all. But it a'n't a thing I'm component to 
 judge. Master Miles ; for foreigners, they say, don't see 
 them things as we do." 
 
 " Well," he replied, reseating hunself, and passing his 
 hand over his brow ; " let's change the subject, it always 
 pains me; but her day of retribution will come — my 
 sainted mother!" and involuntarily he raised his hat, in 
 reverential awe, as if an angel were looldng down upon 
 him. 
 
 " Don't be cast down. Master Miles," said the woman, 
 ^^and don't talk on them miserable subject, all in the 
 dark here, as one may say ; it makes one oncomfortable 
 and queer. Now, tell me, what do you want with me ?"
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 105 
 
 " I want to see Miss Dalzell. Can jou manage that 
 for me?" 
 
 " Mussiful powers ! no," she exclaimed, in sm^rise 
 and horror. 
 
 " It must be accomplished somehow, ]Mrs. Gillett ; 
 see her I mustJ^ 
 
 " Well, if I didn't tliink so !" she said, thinking aloud 
 of what she had previously hinted to Sylvia. 
 
 " Think what — what do you mean?" 
 
 " Oh nothink, nothink — there, do go ; pray, do'e go !" 
 she energetically cried, alarmed at the phantom her ima- 
 gination had conjured up. " It won't do, depend upon 
 it ; thei/ would stir up the whole earth to find and punish 
 you, if you did it ; for she's the darling of all, and they'd 
 all ignite against you — lawyer, parson, squire, master, 
 mississes, and all!" 
 
 " In the name of patience, my good ^Irs. GiUett, what 
 do you mean?" he asked laughing. 
 
 " AATiy, I saw it — I said it — I knew it — though I ain't 
 a Dippibus, as master calls fortune-tellers; but don't go 
 any farther — leave off where you are I" and she crunched 
 up her cap in her energy. 
 
 "Are you mad?" he exclaimed, securing her reckless 
 hands. " I teU you I must see Mss Dalzell, if only for a 
 moment. I have a message for her." 
 
 ^Irs. Gillett was rocking in her chair in agony ; her 
 position exceeded any thing embarrassing she had ever 
 conceived. What could she do ? Here she was locked 
 in with a desperate man, who only said " must." How 
 could she ever reconcile this difficulty to practicable
 
 106 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 action ? how bind this wild horse to her daily car of 
 every body's necessities? their calls upon her to bear their 
 burthens — her carrier's cart of packages — she was in 
 fearful perplexity. 
 
 "Is there any thing so dreadful in my demand?" he 
 asked. "Let it be here, for five minutes. We met 
 yesterday — you know we did, though you would not 
 recognise me. She will not refuse, I know." 
 
 " Can't you say what you have to say through the 
 passan. Master JMiles," she uttered at last, struggling for 
 a straw. 
 
 " No ; I must see herself. Why do you fear me 
 80 much ? Do you suppose I would insult, or injure one, 
 whom report says so good and kind — a woman, too? Fie 
 Mrs. Gillett — fie ! to wrong me so much, the man you've 
 known from boyhood." 
 
 " Oh ! Master IVIiles, it ain't that — it ain't, indeed ; 
 but we oftentimes harms without meaning it," and she 
 looked meaningly at him. He seemed to awaken as 
 from a dream. 
 
 " You cannot suppose," he cried, " that I, a poor out- 
 cast now, come here to woo any woman ; still less ^liss 
 Dalzell, whose whole family are my bitterest enemies. 
 I tell you no, Mrs. Gillett; I have no such thought. 
 From all I have heard — the little I saw of her yesterday, 
 for the first time — I respect, admire, and reverence ]Miss 
 Dalzell, but more I never shall now — I have another 
 at heart." He alluded to his self-imposed task of duty 
 and love, to re-establish his mother's fame.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE 107 
 
 "Youa'n't deceiving me, Master Miles," she said look- 
 ing up, mistaking his meaning. 
 
 " I solemnly assm-e you I am not." 
 
 "Oh, then, there can be no harm, that I see!" she 
 cried confidently. Alas ! poor Mrs. Gillett, she had but 
 skin-deep knowledge of the human heart. Not seeing 
 that what we should avoid, we fly to — what hate, gene- 
 rally love, if cast in our path — ties, vows, resolutions — 
 all are things created, but to be immolated on love's 
 altar. 
 
 " There she just is !" she exclaimed, looking from 
 the window ; " she's come round by the slirubbery into 
 the fruit-garden, and Lady Dora's with her." 
 
 "Lady Dora!" he ejaculated, looking sm'prised, and 
 going to the window. 
 
 " Come back, Master Miles, do, come back," she cried; 
 " I wouldn't have Miss Minnie's cousin see you for the 
 world, in here." 
 
 "Is that Mss DalzeU's cousin?" he again asked, gazing 
 from his comer at the two wanderino^ too:ether at the 
 end of a long walk. " Lady Dora Yaughan, Lady 
 Ripley's daughter, — true," he added after a pause, talk- 
 ing aloud, " I have a faint memory of the name here ; 
 but boys do not recollect these things as in after years; 
 the name seemed familiar to me in Italy." 
 
 "Lauks!" exclaimed ]Mi's. GiUett, "have you met 
 Lady Dora before ?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered hesitatingly; "but how is it, Mrs. 
 GiUett, that I never met her or Mss Dalzell here be- 
 fore?" Alas! the man was in old familiar scenes, for-
 
 108 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 getting that eight long dreary years of exile had been 
 his. 
 
 " Why, you see, Master Miles — and lauk, if I a'n't for- 
 gettin' too, calling you Master — well, never mind, it's 
 more homely : Miss Minnie will be only seventeen come 
 next month, and eight years have gone by since " 
 
 ^'True, true!" he hastily answered, interrupting her, 
 "and IMiss Dalzell was then but a little child" — he sighed, 
 that man of eight-and-twenty felt so old. 
 
 " And Miss Minnie was seldom at home then. She 
 lived almost entirely with Lady Ripley, for her lady- 
 sliip's child's sake; but you must have seen her, too. 
 Master Miles." 
 
 "Yes," he said thoughtfully; "I now recall, at times, 
 a pretty little fairy thing flitting about the grounds and 
 gardens when I came home ; for then my first visit was 
 ever here, to see you Mrs. Gillett, and good, kind Mss 
 Dorcas, and to teaze your master and Mss Sylvia with 
 my wilful spirits." 
 
 "Lauk, yes!" said she sadly; and the memory of all 
 brought the joyous boy in so much bitter comparison 
 with the outcast, saddened man, that Mrs. Gillett, kind 
 at heart, began to cry. 
 
 " Come, come ! " he said kindly taking her hand ; "don't 
 be sorrowful. I thank you for those evidences that I am 
 not forgotten by all." 
 
 " Oh, not by me. Master Miles; but I've a hard card to 
 play here amongst 'em all, and that hardens the heart — 
 for they all want the same thing. They all wish Miss 
 Minnie to marry some one of their own choosing, and, as
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 109 
 
 I say, she can't be a bigamy, and marry all, so tliere's no 
 use wiirrittin' her about it so." 
 
 "And does she not love any one ?" 
 
 "Law bless you, no — not one more than t'other; my 
 behef is, she likes her black mare ' Jet' better nor any 
 of them." 
 
 Miles felt glad to hear this, for he had heard of none 
 worthy of the fair girl who had been poor Mary's Chiistian 
 support in her trouble. Even Skaife he did not deem 
 fitting for that beautiful gem ; she merited a more gor- 
 geous setting than a homely curate's home could be. 
 She was no longer as a stranger to his thought ; he for- 
 got the past eight bitter years of his life, and remembered 
 himself a boy again, looking on a rosy, lovely child. 
 !Mrs. Gillett's doubts were all cleared away, and an open 
 path before her. Age, and the prejudices of others, had 
 made her regard ^liles \^dth fear, and almost aversion. 
 Now the better influence of woman's nature prevailed, 
 and she remembered him only as the comely youth she 
 had once liked so much. Cranky people make others 
 cross and disaoreeable. She was accustomed to nothino* 
 but complaints from Juvenal and Sylvia, with a milder 
 portion, in the way of advice requu'ed, by Dorcas ; and 
 thus she had had all the juices of her nature drjang up 
 beneath this fire of unhappy prognostications from alL 
 With Mies she became almost yoimg again, and fear- 
 lessly promised to procure him the desfred interview, 
 provided no one hneiu it, which he faithfully promised 
 they should not, from him ; and, while they were con- 
 sulting how it shoidd be accomplished, the girl herself
 
 110 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 advanced to the window with her cousin. Miles drew 
 back in a corner, and his heart beat for more reasons 
 than one. 
 
 " Good-evening, Mrs. Gillett," said Lady Dora, in an 
 affable tone. " You really improve in good looks every 
 time we meet." Poor Mrs. GiUett was red as a peony 
 with agitation, and could only utter, " Yom' ladysliip's 
 very good to notice me/" 
 
 " Gillett, dear," cried Minnie, in her girlish, ringing 
 tone, " we are coming in to have a chat with you ; put a 
 chair for us to step on ! " 
 
 " Not for the world, miss," almost shrieked the alarmed 
 woman. "Oh dear! no; maybe you'll hurt yourself." 
 
 " Good gracious — no, GiUett ! you know I always come 
 in this way," and she stooped as if to enter. 
 
 "No, miss — oh dear, no!" continued the other, dragging 
 away the chair in her terror. " I never will consent ; it 
 mustn't be." 
 
 "Are you mad?" exclaimed the amazed girl. The 
 woman caught Miles's face ; he was smiling. Altogether 
 her position was so critical, she became doubly confused, 
 and said something incoherent about "Lady Dora's 
 dignity." 
 
 " I see what it is," said that lady. " ^Irs. Gillett has 
 forgotten the girl she used to scold once ; so, Minnie, we 
 vnll sit outside here, and I wiU make her better acquaint- 
 ance as a woman," and the cousins, suiting the action to 
 the word, sat down each on a garden-chair, which they 
 drew close to the window. This was a thousand times 
 worse than any position she ever had been in ; no bUnd-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. Ill 
 
 ness, no pattens, could save her here. She was not a free 
 agent — T\Tiat would they say ? what do ? and besides, 
 the door was locked — should any one rap ! It was the 
 hour when the servants generally requu'ed her advice 
 or presence to prepare for supper ; her agony was intense. 
 She diu-st not move lest ^linnie should step in, using 
 her own chair for that purpose. Every possible thought 
 crossed her mind to terrify her — should ^liles sneeze ? 
 and, in the midst of all this, ^Minnie began — 
 
 " Now," she said, " Gillett, I've come to scold you for 
 your cruelty yesterday to poor IVIr. Tremenhere." 
 
 ^Irs. Gillett was seized with a violent fit of couschinor; 
 could any subject more terrible imder circumstances 
 have been selected ? ^liles was all attention. 
 
 " You've a bad cough," said Lady Dora, kindly, for 
 her ; but she wanted Minnie's homely warmth of speech. 
 
 " Th-an-k you-r la-dy-ship, I ha-ve," coughed the 
 woman. 
 
 " You should be carefid at your age," continued the 
 other. " Colds are the forerunners of aU disease, they 
 say." 
 
 " So o-ur doc-tor tel-ls me," uttered the housekeeper, 
 perplexed how to keep up the cough ; " and he sa-ys I 
 sh-ou-1-d avoid dr-aughts ! " 
 
 " And here we are," cried the feeling ^linnie, " keeping 
 you in one." She rose hastily. ^Irs. Gillett began in 
 all gratitude, thanking her lucky star for taking them 
 away, as she supposed that luminary so intended to do ; 
 when, lo ! at that instant, a hand tried the lock, then rap — 
 rap — rap, succeeded — then Sylvia's voice ! The house-
 
 112 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 keeper was nearly frantic. She hurried half-way to the 
 door, then returned. Miles stood perfectly still and 
 composed. 
 
 "I'll go round by the garden, Minnie," said Lady 
 Dora, rising. " Don't remain long with ]Mrs. Gillett," 
 and she turned away with her slow, majestic walk. 
 Minnie put her chair in at the window, stepping in like 
 a cat upon it. Gillett indistinctly saw all this ; she 
 wrung her hands, hurried to the assailed door, opened 
 it, slipping through a crevice she would have dreamed 
 an impossible feat of performance an hour before, and 
 speaking loudly as she did so. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Sylvia, I'm so flusterated I don't know 
 what I'm a-doing of; there's a strange cat come into my 
 room, and gone into a fit — don't go in !" she screamed, 
 as the courageous Sylvia attempted to do so. " It will 
 bite, maybe ! I'll lock it in ; the window is open — it 
 will go as it comed, I daresay !" and, suiting the action 
 to the word, she tremblingly turned the key, which she 
 had taken outside with her. Presence of mind is 
 woman's greatest gift.
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 113 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " They must settle it betAveen them," she muttered 
 to herself as she did so. " After what he told me, I 
 ain't afeard of him ! And very fortunate it is, to be sure, 
 that he should be thinking of another, or else he'd be 
 sartain to fall in love with Miss Minnie, and that 
 wouldn't do !" And, consoling herself in her error, she 
 trotted do"vvn the passage after Sylvia. 
 
 "Gillett — IMrs. Gihett !" cried ^linnie, flying across 
 the room to the closing door ; " let me out !" 
 
 But the door was locked in an instant. Sylvia had 
 turned away, and Gillett followed, blessing herself for 
 the clever manner in which she met poor !Miles's wishes 
 (for she reaUy liked him,) without actually compromis- 
 ing herself by arranging a meeting. ^Minnie tmTied, 
 and was going out by the window, as she had entered, 
 wondering much at the housekeeper's strange behaviour, 
 when, in turning, she beheld Miles. She started back, 
 uttering a half scream. 
 
 " Pray, do not be alarmed, Mss Dalzell," he said, ad- 
 vancing courteously — " 'tis I, ]\iiles Tremenhere, here, 
 and with ^Mrs. Gillett's consent ; may I speak a word to 
 you?" 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 " You here, Mr. Tremenhere — and with Mrs. Gillett's 
 connivance ?" 
 
 " I here, ^liss Dalzell — you may indeed be amazed ; 
 but pray, pardon my audacity, but I have something to 
 tell you, for which reason I am here. May I act most 
 unceremoniously in your own house, and offer you a 
 chair?" 
 
 She bowed as he did so, and seated herself, though in 
 much perplexity of thought. 
 
 " I would speak to you," he said seriously, standing 
 beside her, " of one you take an interest in." 
 
 "Mary Burns I" she cried. "Oh! pray be seated, 
 and tell me of her. I went to the cottage at six this 
 morning, but it was vacant." 
 
 " Did you, indeed ! " he exclaimed, gazing in deep 
 admiration upon the lovely face raised to his in con- 
 fidence and innocence. " I wish I had divined tliat ; 
 how very good you are. Miss Dalzell ! — this will much 
 gratify poor Mary, she is so crushed and bowed down." 
 
 " Oh ! do not say I am good; 'tis a sacred duty we owe 
 a distressed fellow creature. We should not trample upon 
 the fallen, lest they rise against us, and themselves in 
 bitterness : where is she, Mr. Tremenhere ?" 
 
 But Tremenhere' s thoughts had changed their current; 
 might he not be pardoned for seeking a motive to inte- 
 rest in his fate that young heart? Within the last 
 half hour he had been searching the haunts of memory, 
 and she had given him back a sunny day, ten long years 
 gone by. 
 
 " It is a great tax on a memory so young as yours^
 
 MILES TKEMEXHEKE. 115 
 
 Miss Dalzell," he said, without having even heard her 
 question, " to ask it to look back ten years ; can you re- 
 call the time when you were seven years of age ?" 
 
 "Oh, well I" she answered unhesitatingly, as if she had 
 known him all the intervening space between that, and 
 the present. "I had never quitted home then, since when, 
 I have been much at Loughton, with my cousin Dora ; 
 but I remember that happy time well. I was a very, very 
 joyous child. They say, those kind of children know 
 much and early trouble ; but I don't beheve that — do 
 you?" 
 
 "Heaven keep you from it!" he energetically said, "/ 
 was a very happy boy." 
 
 Minnie looked up in his handsome face, and her bright 
 blue eyes clouded over — "Poor Miles Tremenhere!" 
 she thought. 
 
 " You used to ride," he continued, " on a pretty grey 
 pony, and a large dog always followed it." 
 
 " Yes I" she answered amazed; " and old Thomas, my 
 uncle's coachman, walked beside me ; but how do you 
 know this, Mr. Tremenhere ? " 
 
 " One day," " he replied, " a young man's horse ran 
 away with him, in the long lane skirting your grounds 
 at Gatestone, and upset the grey pony and its pretty bur- 
 then. As soon as he recovered the command of his horse, 
 he returned and found the little girl, not hurt, but very 
 much frightened ; so he dismounted and took the pretty 
 child on his knee, and her little arms clung round his 
 neck, as she assured him she was not hurt. He often 
 thought of that sweet gu'l, and her long flaxen ourls;
 
 116 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 but somehow, he lost her recoUcction, amidst the waves 
 of the troubled life he afterwards was doomed to. He 
 only found it again, half an hour ago ; then he again saw, 
 as now he sees in Memory's magic glass, that sweet in- 
 fant face, the Uttle arms so confidently round his neck, 
 and the kiss she gave him on both cheeks. / was that 
 young man — man even then, — you, that pretty loving 
 child. Miss DalzeU." 
 
 Minnie was rosy red to her very brow as he spoke of 
 that kiss ; then with a native grace, all her o^vn, she held 
 out both her tiny hands, and all smiles as he grasped 
 them, said — " Oh, Mr. Tremenhere! I do remember it; I 
 am so delighted we have met before this sad time to you ; 
 it gives me a right to defend, and tliink well of you." 
 
 lAHiat would Mrs. Gillett have said, had she seen 
 Miles's dark moustache pressed upon ^iinnie's lovely 
 hands, in speechless gratitude ? 
 
 "I don't know how it happened," he said, after a 
 moment's silence; "but there was but little intimacy be- 
 tween our famihes. / came frequently here, but then 
 I rambled every where ; moreover, I had, and have, a 
 passion for my pencil, and strolled about the grounds, 
 sketching every thing, I had so many favourite old trees 
 and sites here." 
 
 " And do you sketch now? have you any of these? I 
 should much like to see them." 
 
 "Yes, I sketch still, and, more than that, I paint, 
 chisel my thoughts in marble — all." 
 
 "What a delicious pastime!" she cried, enthusiasti- 
 cally.
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 117 
 
 "'Tis more than that to me," he answered, and a 
 cloud passed over his brow ; " it is 71 ow sl profession to 
 me — one ardently pursued, for a motive haUows it !" 
 
 " Your mother !" she uttered. 
 
 "Thank you, for that good, sympathetic thought. 
 Miss Dalzell. I may freely speak to you — we are not 
 strangers in soid — I feel that. Yes; my mother — my 
 good, pm'e, calumniated mother ! I have vowed every 
 energy of my life to one cause — the re-establishment of 
 her fame. Only money can do it : I am poor : I have 
 powerfid and rich enemies to fight against ; but patience, 
 if wealth is to be gained, I will win it ; and then there is 
 not a comer of the wide world I will leave unsearched, 
 till I prove her to aU, what I know her to be. Every 
 thought of my soul is in this good work." 
 
 " Oh, may Pleaven prosper so pure a wish !" she cried. 
 " Would that I were rich ! I would say, ^>Ir. Tremenhere, 
 for the sake of a sister woman's fame, let me join you 
 in this holy deed." 
 
 ^Minnie spoke in aU the enthusiasm of her gentle, but 
 energetic natiu-e ; and as she desired, so would she have 
 done, had fortune ^villed it. Tremenhere's outcast heart 
 was in fearful dano^er ; had she souo^ht throuo-h all 
 Cupid's quiver for an arrow the most deadly, she coidd 
 not have found one better, than this interest in his 
 mother, to win ^liles's affections. For some moments 
 they did not speak ; he felt that the weakness creeping 
 over him must be checked. His cause was too sacred a 
 one to be relinquished, like a second !Marc Anthony's, 
 for woman's love. And what Cleopatra could ever have
 
 118 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 ranked m power with Minnie Dalzell? He felt this, 
 and changed the subject, telling her that ]Mary and her 
 mother had that day quitted Yorkshire for London, to 
 avoid persecution. It was a delicate subject to touch 
 upon to Minnie, therefore he did so as lightly as possible; 
 but not so much so but that she discovered, to her in- 
 creased hoiTor of him, that ^f annaduke Burton had been 
 Maiy's betrayer. But time flew — it flies ever when we 
 require its staj^ — it flies, carrying with it our joys and 
 smiles ; and oh, how it lingers over our tears ! Bathed 
 in them, its wings know no vigour or vohtion. ^linnie 
 would gladly have remained longer ; but she knew her 
 absence would shortly cause inquiry and search. Miles 
 durst not solicit another meeting ; for how excuse the 
 request? What interests had they in common, now 
 Mary was gone? Alas! none, which cither might 
 avow. Little as they were acquainted, it was a 
 moment of regret to each, when, without a word asked 
 of future hope, or promise given, Miles stepped through 
 the window, in the now deepened shades of evening — 
 almost night. He could but thank and bless her gentle 
 heart, and say, how truly ! that he never should forget 
 her kindness and confidence, — that he probably, on the 
 following day, should be far from Gatestone ; but, at her 
 request, he would send some sketches to Mrs. Gillett for 
 her, in memory of their meeting ; and one should be of 
 their first one. Twice he turned to say good-bye ; and 
 the last time he lingered, and lingered, over the Uttle 
 white hand, on which the lip, though half in fear, fell 
 at last ; and he bade Heaven bless her, for his mother's
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 119 
 
 sake. Slie watched liis tall fissure as he strode throiio-h 
 the garden — then the night concealed him from her 
 view — she crept to the window and listened, but the 
 footsteps were lost on the turf; and here Mrs. Gillett 
 turned the key in the door, and entered. [Minnie tm-ned 
 hastily round. 
 
 " Is he gone ?" asked the woman, in a whisper. 
 
 "Yes," uttered Minnie sadly. "Poor man — poor 
 creature ! Oh, Gillett, what a wicked man Marmaduke 
 Burton is ! " 
 
 "Is he? Oh! may be not — he thinks he^s right; 
 may be he is, may be he isn't — who can say?" PoHcy 
 had stepped in again, her handmaiden. " One tiling 
 I'm very glad of, Mss [Minnie, that Mr. Miles is an 
 eno-ao-ed man." 
 
 "Engaged!" cried the girl, surprised; "to whom?" 
 
 ^^I don't know, but he solemnly assured me he was, 
 or else be sm'e I wouldn't have consented to hi& seeino: 
 you alone. People soon fall in love — I know I did mth 
 poor, dear Gillett ; but I never knew it till he fell out of 
 the apple-tree, and dessicated his shoulder. And I'm 
 sure, when they strapped him down in the chair, to pull 
 it back again, (it was sadly put out,) I felt in such an 
 agonized state, as if vultures were feedin' on ray vitals ! 
 All! that's true love, Miss [Minnie — I hope you may 
 never know how sharp its tooth is, for it gnaws thi'ough 
 every barricade, as one raay say." 
 
 Minnie was in deep thought, thinking and wondering 
 what sort of person [Miles loved ; Was she dark ? — fair ? 
 and, above all, did she love him very much? She
 
 120 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 thought— indeed, she was sure — that she should love 
 such a man ! In a very meditative mood, she entered 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 Miles sped away across fields, once his, to the homely 
 fanner's, (Weld,) where, we have said, he had taken up 
 his abode. He, too, was in deep cogitation; his mind 
 filled with thoughts of Minnie. With an artist's eye, 
 he remembered every outline of her lovely face and 
 form : there was something so serapliic in it : for a while 
 it obliterated all bitterer memories — cousin, mother, all. 
 Then, as he awoke from a day-dream of what might 
 possibly have been, a double flood of indignation and 
 hatred rushed through his heart towards Maimaduke. 
 " I woidd have ^dllingly shared all with him," he cried 
 aloud, " so he had left me name, and her fame ; with 
 
 these I might perhaps have won " He paused. 
 
 " Lady Dora her cousin, too ! strange I should never 
 have thought of that I But, then, 'tis ever so ; Ave sit 
 dowTi contentedly under a happy influence of sunhght, 
 unquestioning whether it will last, or wherefore it 
 shines, whence it comes. That would have been the 
 maddest dream of any. Proud ! oh, Juno herself fabled 
 Juno not prouder! There were many things in that 
 girl I could not fathom : Was she really so proud ? or. 
 Had her heart a softer feeling beneath that mantle ? or. 
 Was it merely woman's love of enchaining, which made 
 her so gentle, yielding, almost loving, only to frown 
 down upon the half-uttered hopes her manner gave 
 birth to ? I remember the day she was leaving ; I am 
 not a vain man, but assuredly there was a tear in her
 
 MILES TIIE3IEXHEEE. 121 
 
 eye, and the hand, for the first tinie, touched mine — 
 how cold her's was I That was yanity. Her manners 
 piqued me, her beauty dazzled ; but I forgot her a week 
 aftervTards, and worked at the statue for which she had 
 been my model, as cahnly as if no hne of it were 
 drawn in vain imitation of her matchless grace. But 
 I forofot her! — could I forsfet Miss Dalzell?" He was 
 silent for a lono^ time, and walked onward in thouo^ht. 
 "I will leave this place," he said at last, speaking 
 aloud — that habit which denotes the lonely man — 
 speaking aloud, not to forget the tone of a human 
 voice. "I "SAoU leave this, and then forget that sweet, 
 fair face; I cannot allow my heart the luxury even 
 of that thought. I require aU its energies — it must be 
 vigorous, ]^>Iiles, 's^gorous, for it's worldly encounter, not 
 enervated by love ! Pshaw ! leave love to boys — I am 
 a man — a sad, stricken man — what have I to do with 
 love ? V»Tiy, my hair will be silvering soon, and how 
 might I mingle such, with those glorious wreaths of 
 golden shade, as she lay on my bosom ! Away, away ! " he 
 cried, groaning deeply. "This is a de^-il's vision, to 
 tempt me aside, from duty to a saint ! WTiat a beautifld 
 thing nature is !" he continued, after a pause. " ^^Tiat 
 act of art, however gorgeous her colouring, could com- 
 pete with that one — so beautiftil — so pm^e — so perfect — 
 when INIinnie Dalzell put her two fair hands in childish 
 confidence in mine !" Asrain he walked on in silence, and 
 as he entered Farmer Weld's door, he muttered, " I will 
 leave this place to-morrow!" 
 
 The morrow rose. Does she in rising lay in her lap.
 
 122 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 and survey all the deeds of tlie day ? or is it an act at 
 eve, when retiring ? In either case, how she must sigh 
 over those of omission and commission, and regret that 
 she should be the involuntary parent of them all ! She 
 rose, and with her Lady Dora, earlier than usual ; she 
 looked thoughtful, pale, and irresolute. Were these 
 caused by Minnie — who had spent two good hours the 
 previous night in her dressing-room, confiding to her 
 cousinly ear all about Miles Tremenhere? Dora had 
 listened, and Minnie was too little accustomed herself to 
 conceal her feehngs, to note the painful struggle the 
 other had, to be in seeming quite calm. Much she 
 argued with Minnie — mere cold, worldly motives, for not 
 seeing Miles, for refusing to do so peremptorily, should 
 he seek her; as if Minnie could do any thing in a 
 peremptory manner, especially a thing calculated to 
 wound this fallen man ! Dora found her resolute, how- 
 ever, in one way — not to do so, but leave all to chance. 
 He was going — she pitied him — always had done so 
 since she heard his story. She hated Marmaduke 
 Burton — always had — and would now, more than ever — 
 she ivould. In vain Dora spoke of position ; he was rich, 
 Minnie had nothing, and her aunts were resolved she 
 should settle near them. " Well, they cannot force me 
 to marry at all," answered she ; " so I'll die an old 
 maid, or rather live one first, with dear aunt Dorcas." 
 
 But Dora could gain no promise about Miles Tremen- 
 here. 
 
 " I may never seek him," said Minnie. " Tm not 
 in love — oh ! not at all ; but, if we do meet, I vnR hold
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 123 
 
 out my hand if the squu-e and all the household are 
 by to see ! Has he not kno^vn me smce I was seven 
 years of age ? and do you think I am going to turn away 
 from a friend because he is poor ? No, cousin dear, I wish 
 I were a man, I'd fight for !Miles Tremenhere — poor 
 feUow!" 
 
 It is questionable whether, had she been one, she 
 would have blushed so deeply, and spoken so enthusias- 
 tically, though her generous nature would have made her 
 uphold the wronged. A handsome man is very dry fuel 
 near a young lady's warm heart — her enthusiasm soon 
 glows into a blaze.
 
 124 MILES TREMEXnERE, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Our readers must not suppose that Lady Dora 
 Vaughan was in love with Miles Tremenhere. The 
 outcast of society could never find a cherished home in 
 a heart so proud as her's. True, we cannot always com- 
 mand our feelings; but we can check them. Her's 
 towards him were, more bordering on hate than love — 
 And why ? because she had nearly loved, and her pride 
 revolted so much against her weakness, that dislike 
 towards the object had followed ; still, her sensations 
 were far from agreeable. Do as she might, she could 
 not despise the man; she was bound to admire, and 
 even while doing so, feel that it would be worse than any 
 marriage with age or decrepitude (rank and wealth of 
 course accompanying them,) to love this noble-hearted 
 man, simply because the laws of society condemned liim 
 as an outcast, for his mother's supposed error. And this 
 frightftd fault of pride, was the bane of a host of good 
 qualities and virtues in Lady Dora. It marred them all ; 
 making her seem worldly, cold, and heartless, whereas 
 a good, simple-minded mother would have created a 
 jewel of price in this girl. She had met Miles in Flo- 
 rence — met him merely as an artist, whose rising talent
 
 jMILes tremexhere. 125 
 
 entitled him to portray her fine features for the admira- 
 tion of posterity. As a very young man, when wealth 
 and position were his. Miles had studied painting as an 
 art to which inspiration called him. Sculpturing, too, he 
 practised, but less than the other. Perhaps it was, next 
 to his mother's wrongs, the severest blow of his unhap- 
 py fate, when he found himself driven from his studio at 
 the manor-house, where his happiest hours had been 
 spent. He had passed years of his life at different 
 periods, since boyhood, m Italy, and studied with the 
 best masters. When his troubles seemed to have quite 
 overwhelmed him, after flinging back with scorn the 
 hundred a year his base cousin dared offer him — as in- 
 deed he would have done thousands, from his, or any 
 hand in charity — he had recourse to his talents for 
 support. He returned to Italy ; and now every energy 
 of his genius was directed towards the acquirement of 
 wealth, for the purpose we have shown. This was the 
 man Lady Dora had sat to ; and, though she did not 
 admit the fact at Gatestone, she, but not her mother, 
 had been perfectly aware that he was the once master of 
 the manor-house. Even while under his pencil at Flo- 
 rence she had, struck by the name, sought his confidence, 
 which he freely gave her — only from her mother was it 
 Avithheld. Lady Dora never spoke of herself; imagin- 
 ing that every one must know her rank and family, she 
 merely spoke of having been at Gatestone, and he inquired 
 no farther. Under the mask with which pride concealed 
 the working of her features and heart. Lady Dora had 
 warm affections. Though she did not fully enter into the
 
 126 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 merits of Tremenhere's case, neither did she believe that, 
 had his mother been innocent, he could be so much 
 wronged ; still she felt much sympathy for one brought 
 up in ignorance, so many years, and driven to the bit- 
 ter extremity, as she deemed it, of earning his existence ; 
 riot knowing, that the bread we honestly earn, is made 
 sweeter to the palate, than that which comes to us from 
 parents and kindred — the cold household bread, baked 
 fi'om our birth for us ! The depth of thought, intelligence, 
 and something above any one she had ever met, made 
 her involuntarily bow before the commanding nature 
 of this man. Of his plans or puq^oscs she knew nothing; 
 merely supposing that, like hundreds of other artists, he 
 was earning his living. It was not to a girl Uke this 
 one, that the- sacred motive of all his acts would be con- 
 fided. Still it was impossible to be thro^^^l into the 
 society of Lady Dora, and not admire her deeply, espe- 
 cially a man like this ; for he was too keen an observer 
 — a scrutinizer of all — not to perceive that under her 
 pride lay feeling and depth of soul. Insensibly this 
 cold man began to watch for the days of his visits at the 
 Palazzo Nuovo, whither he went to complete the por- 
 traits of herself, and the countess ; but it was to his 
 studio Lady Dora came, accompanied by a waiting- 
 woman, and sometimes her mother, to mark the progress 
 of her marble statue ; and here, in his own home, his 
 household gods around him, ^lilcs became so perfectly 
 himself — at ease, graceful, and courteous in manner, 
 such as few could be, none surj^ass, that insensibly 
 Lady Dora felt her heart question her pride as to the
 
 MILES TREMENHEEE. 12/ 
 
 possibility of reconciliation ; for with her they were two 
 enemies at open war — still she was not in love. Sur- 
 rounded by admirers — sought every where— chidden by 
 her mother for her coldness — it was a bitter pang to her, 
 the discovery that this painter-sculptor, for such he 
 was, should give her heart an awakening start. At first 
 she gave herself up to the enjo}Tnent of a new sensation; 
 then, when she discovered how dano-erous the feeling: 
 might become, she drew back into her sheU, which lay 
 outwardly cold and empty ; whereas within beat a warm 
 heart. Tremenhere, however, guessed a part of the 
 whole. There is a look, not to be mistaken, in the do^vn- 
 cast lid wliich lowers over the traitor glance — there is the 
 young blood, wliich wiU rush up rejoicing to the 
 cheek. No caution can check this tide, no dam Hmit its 
 flow. More than once her blush had made his heart 
 question itself; and though that heart acknowledged a 
 wanner feeling than towards a mere acquaintance, still 
 it's joy was not full, the cup was not filled to overflow- 
 ing, nor any thing resembling it. Lady Dora had passed 
 a sleepless night after the conversation with ^linnie. 
 ^linnie she had loved as a child — loved her now as a 
 girl ; moreover, she was a part of herself, her flesh and 
 blood — degradation to one, woidd necessarily fall uj)on 
 the other ; and knowing, as she knew the fascination of 
 Miles, even acting upon herself — the girl accustomed to 
 society and adulation — she doubly dreaded it in the case 
 of an unsophisticated girl like her cousin. Lady Dora, 
 we have said, arose, it was about seven o'clock, a thing 
 most unusual for her to do. She dressed herself with-
 
 128 MILES TREMENIIERE, 
 
 out the attendance of her maid, and after a moment's 
 thoughtful pause, put on a close straw-bonnet and shawl, 
 and, opening her door gently, crept down-stairs. It will 
 be remembered that Lady Dora had often been, as a 
 child, a resident at Gatestone ; consequently, under the 
 unavoidable influence of Mrs. Gillett, the presiding 
 goddess of the house. To her room, through the gar- 
 dens, Lady Dora resolved to go, as if accidentally in an 
 early walk, and implore her not to countenance in any 
 way the inter-communication of Minnie and Tremen- 
 here. Poor Lady Dora quite forgot, or disbelieved, that 
 there is a communion of kindred spirits on earth, and 
 that vain is all earthly power to separate them. Think- 
 ing on various things in deep cogitation, she skirted the 
 gardens, passed through the shrubbery, and was on the 
 point of entering the fruit-gardens leading to Mrs. 
 Gillett's window, when she suddenly paused. Through 
 an opening of the majestic trees in the long walk called 
 the shrubbery, she saw in the distance a man's figure. 
 He was slowly walking in the holly-field before alluded 
 to. She drew near the hedge separating the grounds 
 from this last named, and looked earnestly through the 
 interstices of the hedge ; he was evidently strolling 
 about, on nothing especial bent. She paused in 
 thought. " Was he, could he, be expecting any one ? 
 
 if so Surely not IMinnie? oh, no! she was too 
 
 candid and retiring to deceive, or be guilty of such an 
 act on so slight an acquaintance." These questions 
 answered, her decision was soon made ; it was far better 
 to speak to him candidly, than through any servant
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 129 
 
 attain her object. Her pride made her sufficiently self- 
 relying, and placed her on too high a pedestal to fear, 
 as a merely ordinary girl of her age might have done. 
 Thus resolved, she returned on her footsteps, and walk- 
 ing hastily tlirough the grounds, opened a small door 
 leading to the fields, and without further hesitation pro- 
 ceeded straight towards the man, as matinal as herself; 
 whom, at a glance, she had recognized, as Tremenhere. 
 He, too, had passed a restless night — a thing to him of 
 frequent occurrence; poor ]Miles had much to banish 
 sleep from his pillow, at all times. He never stayed to 
 woo Morpheus, but rose at once, however early it might 
 be, in Aurora's reign. He had been up nearly two hours, 
 and something impelled him to visit this path, remem- 
 bering that one day's hour of waking, generally is suc- 
 ceeded by a parallel act, next morning. ^linnie had 
 been across these fields at six the previous day, and 
 might she not do the Hke this ? So much worth was 
 his resolution to quit the spot, and see her no more* 
 His back was however, now turned from Gatestone, and 
 he sat upon a stile watching busy nature; he was too sad 
 to sing, or he would have united his voice with the tone 
 of the lark, and busy bee, as they rose above, or flew 
 past him. No ! he sat in thought. Lady Dora's hght 
 step was unheard; it might have been a flying hare's, 
 'twas so gently placed on the grass ; a cough, however, 
 startled him, and then a cold untrembling, 
 
 "^Ir. Tremenhere, pardon my interruption of your 
 reverie, but may I speak to you?" 
 
 VOL. I. j^
 
 130 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 
 
 " Good heavens ! Lady Dora Vaiighan I " and he was 
 beside her. 
 
 " You naturally feel astonished at my being here, Mw 
 Tremenhere," she coldly said, after an o1)eisance of the 
 body which placed a barrier like the Jura mountains 
 between them-^" precipitately steep." "But I was 
 walking in the gardens, and perceiving you, have come 
 without hesitation, well assured that you can place no 
 false construction on the otherwise hazardous act." 
 
 " Lady Dora must be fully aware that presmnption, or 
 self-appreciation above what I deserve, is not a fault of 
 mine ; what I am, I know — more, I never shall seek 
 to be." 
 
 He was to the flill as proud as herself in word and 
 look ; she felt his meaning, and thought they stood equal 
 in mental strength ; but his was the real, sterling pride, 
 grounded on uprightness of cause — hers, the worldly 
 thing, born by accident of birth ; but, like many unreal 
 things, it looked as pure as the other to the eye. 
 
 "Believe me, Mr. Tremenhere, I do full justice to you 
 in all things. I feel so much sympathy for a position so 
 painful as yours, especially as it must be here, in this 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 He merely bowed. She scarcely knew well how to 
 enter upon the subject of IMinnie ; even to her undaunted 
 mind, it w^as a most difficidt one. " ^lay I ask," she said 
 at last, " without a seeming impertinence, foreign to my 
 thought, whether your stay will be greatly prolonged 
 here?" 
 
 He stood surprised ; but, fixing his gaze upon her cold.
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 131 
 
 impcassive face, he read nothing to point a suspicion of 
 any personal interest on her part. 
 
 " May I inquire your ladyship's motive for the ques- 
 tion ? I shall then, possibly, be better enabled to reply 
 with bre\dty and decision to it, as I presume the dew still 
 lying on the grass, induces you natm^ally, to abridge this 
 visit, as much as possible, once its motive explained. 
 I regret I cannot offer a more agreeable place of rest, 
 than the grassy tiuf." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Tremenhere. I like the country — 
 its walks and associations." 
 
 " Indeed I I thought I remembered other opinions 
 in Florence ; but we all are liable to change. Let us hope 
 it may ever be for the better, as yom' decision for the 
 sweet country and rural nature decidedly is." 
 
 *• We will walk, if you please," she coldly replied, 
 moaning onwards. They had been standing near the 
 stile : there was another awkward pause. 
 
 " !Mr. Tremenhere," she said at length, hastily, " I 
 was made acquainted last evening by my cousin. Miss 
 DalzeU, with her extraordinary meeting with yoiurself. 
 'Tis of that I woidd speak." 
 
 " Extraordinary ! Lady Dora — why extraordinary ? 
 I naturally wished to see an old acquaintance of boy- 
 hood, Mrs. Gillett. I have bad taste ; but the humble 
 have often charms for me beyond many more souglit 
 after. Then I had a message to give, which only !Mrs. 
 Gillett might be charged with; then — I confess my 
 audacity towards your cousin, I had an earnest desire 
 once more to behold ISIiss DalzeU, and thanli: her for her
 
 132 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 candidly expressed and warm spnpatliy with a now 
 disregarded man — one drooping, but not crushed, Lady 
 Dora." 
 
 The woman's heart softened at this tone ; it was one of 
 so much noble pride, and knowledge of his rights. Her 
 voice was gentler as she said — 
 
 " Whatever your misfortunes may have been, or are 
 at this moment, I most sincerely " 
 
 He bowed, and interrupted her. " Your ladyship, I 
 think, came here to speak on some subject more interest- 
 ing than my wrongs, I believe ; pardon me for reminding 
 you of it." 
 
 She bit her lip. She saw that every word uttered in 
 the pride of her heart at Florence, when he had almost 
 dared to speak of love, was remembered against her. 
 
 " I thank you for recalling me to my immediate busi- 
 ness in being here, ^Mr. Tremenhere. I know I am 
 speaking to a man of the highest honour." 
 
 " You only do me justice," he replied. " 'Twas bom 
 with me from both parents." 
 
 " I would speak to you of my cousin. Miss Dalzell, 
 and implore you to quit this neighbourhood, or else avoid 
 any further meeting with her." Lady Dora committed 
 a grievous error. She should not have permitted such 
 a thought to intrude upon her, as the possibility of her 
 cousin degrading herself, as she deemed it would be, by 
 any attachment to Tremenhere; still less shoidd she 
 have allowed him to imac^ine such a thinor within the 
 natm'e of probability, as Minnie ever returning any affec- 
 tion of his. She had opened a door in his heart, difficult
 
 MILES TKEMEXHERE. 133 
 
 to close again; certainly sA^ could not accomplish it. Xa- 
 tui'ally he asked himself, " AMiat had Miss Dalzell said 
 of him, so much to alarm her cousin ?" And through that 
 open gate passed many sweet hopes into the lone man's 
 heart. 
 
 " May I ask," he said hastily, " whether your lady- 
 ship comes ^OTTz ]Miss Dakell thus requesting?" 
 
 " You cannot imagine, sir," and she drew her proud 
 figure up, " that my cousin could be unwomanly enough 
 to make so strange a request — implpng fear of herself? 
 No ; / fear for her, only because she is a warm-hearted 
 girl. Her sympathies are awakened for you ; her uncle 
 and aunts have chosen othenvise for her; a marriage 
 ^vith you would be most distasteful to them on that 
 account,''^ she hastily added, to soften the real meaning of 
 her heart, wliich she had nearly betrayed in her haste. 
 She would not T^^Llfully pain any one. " And by some 
 unfortunate event you have met. It is paying you a 
 comphment to say I fear for her." 
 
 *^ Paying me a comphment," he sternly rephed, " at 
 the expense of one whose memory I revere. Were I the 
 acknowledged master of the manor-house, my \'isits as 
 a suitor would not be less pleasing than those of my 
 wortliless cousin, Marmaduke Biu-ton. As it is. Lady 
 Dora Yauo-han ous^ht to know how httle there is to be 
 feared from myself in attaching any one ; for, let my 
 station be what it may, the heart knows of none, and for 
 one worthy of its love, ^vill fearlessly speak. Thus, then, 
 there cannot really exist in your ladyship's mind the 
 fear your words express. You have proved how, in all
 
 134 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 confidence, I may be trusted near disengaged hearts, 
 I will conclude some kinder motive impelled you to 
 seek me to-day — some old scenes to recall to memory — 
 together to speak some friendly word, wliich will bear 
 repetition — something in short of the past ; or a friend, 
 to inquire about. All are well, I beUeve ; were, when 
 I left. Lord Randolph Gray perfectly recovered from 
 his fall, though they say, from some hidden cause, sad 
 at heart. Or it may be only an artistic visit this, — has 
 your ladyship's portrait grown pale? Colours fade 
 sometimes, however much we may have endeavoured to 
 make them proof against so great sacrilege, to a lovely 
 original. Shall I call, when in the neighbourhood of 
 Loughton Castle, and retouch it ? or wiU your ladyship 
 send it to the artist's studio in to^vn? I wait your 
 commands." 
 
 AU this was uttered in a tone of badinage, leaving her 
 abashed and speechless. How she despised herself for 
 having ever allowed a momentary weakness of heart at 
 Florence, to leave a dream on that man's mind that she 
 had almost loved him. How she hated him for having 
 excited that affection, and now even forcing her to re- 
 spect him. In her self-abasement, she would have 
 rejoiced in proving him base, that she might banish him, 
 as she then could, from her thoughts. And, as the last 
 pain is ever keenest, she more than all else deplored her 
 ill-advised morning walk. She felt she had injured her 
 cause, and, resolving to abridge this meeting, also came to 
 the decision of watching over ^Minnie, and imploring her
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 135 
 
 Aunt Dorcas to reason with. her. How people hurry on 
 events by too much forethought, sometimes. 
 
 " I fear," she answered, after a moment's pause, stop- 
 ping in her walk -wdth a fngidity of manner which would 
 have con\'inccd many of their first error in supposing 
 she had even dreamed of love. But Tremenhere was 
 not a superficial observer. "I fear, ]Mr. Tremenhere, 
 that you totally mistake my meaning and intention. 
 Lest a greater error than the first shoidd ensue, we \^^ll, 
 if you please, stop here in our conversation. I tmst I 
 misjudge my cousin's warm heart, and that it vnR never 
 lead her into an act which woidd deprive her of all her 
 friend's sympathy. Nay, do not take any personal 
 offence ; but she is too imsophisticated to trust her own 
 judgment in all things." 
 
 "May I ^vithout offence say," said he, completely 
 changing the conversation, and smiling blandly, " that I 
 regret much your ladyship's portrait shoidd have been 
 entrusted to my care under the influence of a more 
 southern sky ? Assuredly there can be nothing in na- 
 ture to equal the beauty of the dazzling English com- 
 plexion ! " And he gazed respectfully, but admiringly 
 on her glomng cheek. She certainly was beautiM at 
 that moment ; many emotions combined to heighten the 
 colourino^ of the fresh momincj air. Aorain she bit her 
 lip. This man had beaten her ; and not alone doing it, 
 but he knew he had done so, and made her feel it. She 
 merely bowed ; and as they turned in their walk, finding 
 herself near the door entering Gatestone shrubbery,
 
 136 MILES TEEMENHERE. 
 
 stopped. Then for the first time her abased self-coil- 
 fidence made her dread lest any one should have seen 
 her with him. ^\Tiat would be thought, said, reported ? 
 And in this unenviable state of mind, she took a cold, 
 haughty leave of Tremenliere, who was smiling, and 
 Courteous in the extreme. As he replaced his hat, he 
 turned away, and she hastily entered the grounds. 
 Lady Dora almost forgot her dignity enough to hurry 
 towards the house ; perhaps she would quite have done 
 so, had she seen Minnie concealed within the shinibs, 
 with distended eyes, fidl of wonder, and a little regret, ear- 
 nestly watching her. Poor girll she did not know what to 
 do or think. Her first movement had been to join Dora ; 
 then one of delicacy withheld her — the other evidently 
 wished her visit unknowTi. Minnie had been matinal, 
 too ; and looking from her window before descending, 
 not to seek Miles, but to walk in the fresh garden among 
 dew and flowers, she saw Dora pass out. Deeming the 
 other's motive like her o^\ti, she hastened her toilet, and 
 just arrived in the shrubbery as Dora joined Miles at the 
 stile. Him she knew at a glance ; then her heart ques- 
 tioned, "What are they to each other?" She knew 
 they had met. Had she been confiding her admiration 
 of him to one who loved him ? one perhaps beloved ? 
 She would ask Dora — no, she would wait till they were 
 alone — Dora would surely speak of the morning's walk. 
 So in this final decision Minnie paused, and, unseen by 
 the other, followed her to the house, where they shortly 
 after met at breakfast.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 137 
 
 " Dora, you are late," said ^Minnie, as she entered the 
 breakfast parlour. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "we sleep well m country 
 air." 
 
 "She will tell me when we are alone," thought Minnie. 
 And when that occurred, and the other kept silence of 
 lip, and looked so thoughtful, Minnie felt sadly disap- 
 pointed. Dora was not all candour, and her pure nature 
 sickened at the worldly lesson. A first deception 
 where we trusted, often mars a life; at all events, it 
 taints Kfe's cmTcnt, and breeds ^m^y^qioji— frequently, 
 error, on our part.
 
 138 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Some one else had also seen Lady Dora — tliis was 
 Aunt Sylvia. This busy, restless woman, had one de- 
 cided affection — a love of gardening in all its branches. 
 Her greatest crony after Dame Gillett, was John Gar- 
 dener, as he had been surnamed, consequent upon his 
 profession; for every thing is a profession now, — the 
 humble trade eschews its name to become such, and 
 professions, as they still are, are for the most part un- 
 meaning words and falsehoods. Sylvia loved a garden, 
 every atom of it, — kitchen, fruit, and flowers. She de- 
 lighted in getting out spudding in it, as she termed it 
 — a corruption of spading, we presume ; but it was her 
 o^vn coined word, and meant, digging, weeding, sowing, 
 and planting, a composite word of much meaning. This 
 morning, like many others, she was up, and busily in- 
 specting some little green tips just bursting through the 
 earth, which she pronounced " loves of things ;" when 
 raising her head, to push back the spectacles she had put 
 on for a closer inspection of her budding flowers, she saw 
 Lady Dora pass through the little door into the fields. 
 Her niece had not perceived her ; she was bent double 
 nearly, and in a grass-coloured mushn, which made her
 
 3IILES TEE:MEXnERE. 139 
 
 appear, In the distance, like a heap of short, newly-mo^^Tl 
 turf on the lawn. Up she jumped at this vision. "My 
 niece. Lady Dora!" she exclaimed — even in thought she 
 was " Lady Dora " to her — " where can she be going ? I 
 declare the young ladies of the present day, have the 
 oddest manner of creeping about early in the morning ; 
 no good ever can come of it I " Thus soliloquizing, she 
 stole after her, and, to her amazement, saw a man in 
 the distance; who it was, she had not the shghtest 
 idea, not once dreaming of Tremenhere. Startled at 
 the responsibility of so great a secret to herself alone, she 
 hastened throuo^h the kitchen-o^arden to !Mrs. Gillett's 
 window, and rapping hastily until she summoned that 
 familiar spu'it to her aid, she imparted aU her siu-prise 
 to her no less astonished ear. [Mrs. Gillett was HteraUy 
 lost in wonder ; for she at once suspected that Tremen- 
 here was the man, though she kept her suspicions to 
 herself. This, then, was his ens^ao^ement to which he had 
 alluded ; but how had it come about. She knew nothing 
 about the portrait and Florence, or all would have 
 seemed clear as noonday. Li deep peq^lexity, with 
 Svlvia's aid she mounted on a chair: and thus orettinor 
 into the garden, accompanied her to the end of it, where 
 they might, through the thick hedge on that side, see 
 beyond. It was thus Mnnie escaped seeing them, or 
 their observine: her. 
 
 "Can you imagine who the creature is?" (man she 
 meant,) Sylvia asked. 
 
 "He's come a purpose!" ejaculated Gillett, pursiung
 
 140 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 her own private thoughts, not heeding the other's ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Who has come on purpose?" asked Sylvia, impa- 
 tientl3\ 
 
 " Why, he, miss — you know who I mean. Lauks-a- 
 mercy me ! here '11 be a to do ! Lauks-a-mercy ! and 
 my lady, too ! " 
 
 " Good gracious, Mrs. Gillett ! mil you tell me what 
 you mean? Will you tell me what you mean? — who's 
 that man ?" 
 
 ^' Why, Mr. Tremenhere, to be sure ! " answered the 
 other, amazed at the question. Sylvia was silent. In the 
 bottom of her heart she felt something like pleasure; she 
 hated all men, pour cause, as the French so impressively 
 say. She hoped some one would shoot this one for his 
 audacity — he deserved it; then, too, she even felt a 
 something of jealousy towards Lady Ripley, for marry- 
 ing at all when she remained single, and especially an earl. 
 She had a sort of idea, that only a certain quantum of 
 mankind was by fate allotted to each family, and that 
 this one, by his exalted rank, had appropriated all, and 
 bestowed it upon only one— else, why were she and 
 Dorcas single ? In tliis mood of mind, she rejoiced at 
 any thing to lower Lady Ripley's pride, and resolved 
 silently to watch the course of events, and be guided 
 by them how to act. Accordingly she bound do\\Ti Mrs, 
 Gillett to profound secresy ; and, having watched the 
 two separate at the garden gate, she entered the house 
 by the back-door, leaving her confidant more puzzled 
 than ever what to do, finding herself the repository of
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE, 141 
 
 SO many opposite secrets, and fearing events, should they 
 clash in any way. Sylvia noticed every turn in Dora's 
 countenance at breakfast, and, without surprise, listened 
 to a half-smothered sigh. All seemed as clear as day 
 to her idea. There was a private communication existing 
 between ^liles and Lady Dora; that was why he had come 
 so unexpectedly to the neighbom-hood — she was the 
 magnet. She was in a mood to hate all — rejoice at any 
 annoyance to others ; for it was a Httle wounding, after 
 all the trouble she had taken to bring about events, to 
 see her pet, ^Ir. Dalby, quietly resigning, as was the 
 case, his pretensions to ^linnie's hand. Dalby was a 
 prudent man, and, seeing the girl's evident repugnance 
 towards himself, wisely said, " I shall never succeed; if I 
 pursue her, I shall lose my Mend — if I give her up at 
 this stage of the affair, her dislike is not so apparent to 
 others, but that the squire should owe me a debt of gra- 
 titude for 's\dthdrawinoi: in his favour — I'll choose the 
 squire ! " Accordingly he resigned, and was once more 
 reinstated in Marmaduke Burton's favour as one in 
 whom he could trust. It was a complete game of cross 
 purposes with almost all, under cloak of which the ones 
 most interested passed comparatively unnoticed. One 
 thing Lady Dora had accomplished by her morning 
 TN^Ik. INIiles Tremenhere turned thoughtfully away, and 
 the result of his cogitations was a determination to re- 
 main some short time loncrer at Farmer Weld's — he must 
 do so — had he not promised ^linnie a sketch of Gate- 
 stone, and the surrounding scenery ? In common 
 pohteness he must remain; so "common pohteness,"
 
 142 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 like many other tilings, bore the burthen which of nght 
 belonged to another — " inclination." Some days passed 
 away. Lady Ripley spoke of shortly leaving for to^vn. 
 Dora had never spoken of her walk to Minnie, and she, 
 grieved and womided at this reserve, firmly resisted all 
 manoeuvring on the other's part to discover her thoughts 
 about Tremenhere. Marmaduke Burton was a constant 
 visiter: he paid court to Lady Dora, in order (he thought) 
 to pique Minnie. The fact was, Lady Dora's species 
 of hatred towards Tremenhere made her, even though 
 he could not see it, rejoice in shoA\ing fiivour to his rival 
 cousin. This gave a zest — a sort of dreamy hope to his 
 attentions; though in reality liking IMinnie better, he 
 would have preferred her proud, titled cousin : this was 
 the man's meanness. Juvenal rejoiced, for both were 
 his nieces, and, either way, his pet squire would be hap- 
 pily mated. Mr. Skaife was absent from the village for 
 a while ; so Dorcas looked on, in happy ignorance of 
 much ; whilst Sylvia, in the greatest error of any, held 
 consultations with Mrs. Gillett, whose mind was nearly 
 distracted by many confidences, and whose only con- 
 solation amidst all was, that, " most fortunately, Master 
 Tremenhere didn't love Miss Minnie, so she was safe ; 
 and no blame could ever attach to her (Mrs. Gillett) 
 for connivance in their meetings !" 
 
 Nearly two weeks passed thus, and ^Minnie sat alone 
 in her o^^^l little room, where we first saw her ; but the 
 door is bolted, and she is sitting at the table in the 
 centre of that room, on which several sketches in crayon 
 are displayed. One little white hand supports her
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 143 
 
 head, wliicli is bent over these, and these represent, 
 with a bold master-stroke, "Gatestone," seen from 
 north, south, east, and west. Then there are sites and 
 majestic trees, ruins and ivy-covered walls ; all the most 
 beautifrd views on the banks of the Kidd are spread 
 before her, over which her eyes wander ; but the httle 
 white fingers close on one, and she raises it up, and 
 looks almost tenderly upon it. 'Tis the sketch of a Httle 
 girl on a pony, a large dog beside her, and leaning on 
 the neck of the fonner animal is a tall young man. 
 " Very lilie him even now," whispered she ; " but what 
 a Httle thino; I was then I and to think he should have 
 remembered it ! Poor, dear Miles Tremenhere I " and 
 she pressed the card-board to her lip. Was it the little 
 girl's effigy she kissed? in truth, we fear it must be 
 owTied such was not the case. Moreover, om- readers 
 ■v^dU perceive that Pity had strengthened her cause — he 
 was "dear" as weU as "poor" now. Lady Dora had 
 much suffered fr'om the various annoyances of her posi- 
 tion : afraid to speak to Minnie, watching aU, dreading 
 all, and enraged with herself for a contradiction of feel- 
 ing which would arise within her, despite every effort, 
 when she thought of Miles^ His pride had conquered 
 her's : she had been foiled, and, in her discomfitm*e, she 
 knew not where to seek comfort. Somehow, she could 
 not banish liim from her thoughts. She and her mother 
 had left for a few days, on a visit near Pipon, and Gate- 
 stone had sunk into seeming peace. Xo one watched 
 Minnie, she was in outward appearance as usual ; but, 
 while others planned for her, or permitted all care for
 
 144 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 the present to rest, she was weaving her own fate, and 
 not as a child weaves, flowers : there were many thorns 
 set within that band, which would bind her, perhaps. 
 Minnie, imwatched, walked and rode as usual; in the 
 latter case, with the fat old coachman as attendant, who 
 had followed her even in the time of the grey pony. 
 Poor, old, half-blind Thomas ! — what knew he of love, or 
 love's various ways ? And when, one day, Minnie left 
 him in charge of her black mare at a wayside house, 
 after first dropping her at the ruins of an old castle, 
 where she was going to wander a while and sketch, some 
 four miles from home — how could he possibly guess 
 that she would scarcely be seated on a moss-covered 
 stone, before another human being would be beside her, 
 her hand gently pressed in his? All this was very 
 wrong, but the grey pony commenced it years before. 
 Early associations accomplish more in half an hour than 
 recent acquaintances in months : the childish heart takes 
 an impression freely. Minnie had become the little, 
 fair baby thing again, whilst conversing with Miles ; and 
 how or when they had met again, after the evening 
 in Mrs. Gillett's room, matters little; they met acci- 
 dentally on her part, and, like a child, she held out her 
 hands rejoicing; and it was not till more than one of 
 these meetings had taken place, that she discovered 
 
 " I am now no more a * child,' 
 And there's a gulf 'twixt thee and me ! " 
 
 And in making that discovery, she also awoke to the 
 fact in her case — a most unhappy one — that as a woman.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 145 
 
 she lovecL To %yhom could she tell that love? there 
 was but one, Dora, and her secresj had engendered cold- 
 ness. In the candour of her heart she had asked !Miles 
 why Dora had sought hun that morning ? but he merely- 
 attributed it to accident, and Dora's silence, made her 
 convinced some other motive had induced her to seek 
 him. Of his love towards herself she had no assurance — 
 no promise — no pledge. She met him this day because 
 he asked her to do so, to sketch with, and talk to him. 
 More than once she had been on the point of telling 
 "dear aunt Dorcas" all — her heart abhorred deceit; but 
 then, when next she met ^liles, he implored her so ear- 
 nestly not to do so, that her Hps became sealed ; besides, 
 until this dav the meetins^s had been accidental — 
 though hoped for, by her, watched for, by him. 
 
 " ^linnie Dalzell," he said, " think what I should be 
 here, were I prevented from seeing you ; here I must 
 remain a while. I have some business which forces my 
 stay, and none to speak with but Farmer Weld's family; 
 though good, excellent people, yet think how lost I 
 should be without ' Baby [Minnie ' and her sketch-book 
 to superintend and correct ?" 
 
 And "Baby Minnie" feeling no harm to herself, cer- 
 tainly no Avrong to another — held her peace " for pity's 
 sake." " Shoidd he ever say any thing more — more 
 tender," she added, after a pause in her soliloquy, " then 
 I'll tell aunt Dorcas !" Was it policy on his part not to 
 startle, till he had secured, his timid bird ? or was it that 
 he really did not love her, that kept him silent ? A little 
 of both. He was not quite sure of his own heart; it had 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 been so bound up in the one great object of liis life, that 
 he feared lest he were incapable of loving Minnie as she 
 should be loved ; he was perfectly unselfish. Accustomed 
 to deep suffering, he would rather have gone, leaving his 
 love untold, and bearing even the charge, on her part, of 
 being a mere trifler, than give her only a half affection. It 
 was true his heart bounded when they met, and every 
 moment in her absence was a thought of love for her. 
 He walked alone, and conversed alone, to the spirit at 
 his side, ever present with him ; but he knew man's 
 nature so completely under the control of his passions, 
 that for her sake he resolved to prove his own heart be- 
 fore he offered it to her. If he felt he ever could change, 
 or love another, then would he leave without awakening 
 her to the knowledge of her own affection, which he saw, 
 but looked upon as a fledgling, which, by some accident, 
 might never take wing. 
 
 ** Again here ! " she said, on the day we have spoken of, 
 in the old ruin. " Do you know this must terminate 
 soon ? Dora will return, and Mr. Skaife ; and when he 
 is here. Aunt Dorcas generally accompanies me, with 
 him to escort us." 
 
 " But not riding. She is not a horsewoman, you say ? " 
 
 " True ; but Mr. Skaife, at her request, becomes my 
 companion, then Dora will be with me every day." 
 
 '* Do you mean, !Miss Dalzell, that I am never to see 
 you?" and something like a sigh escaped him. 
 
 " Oh ! I hope not, indeed. I should feel grieved at so 
 sad a termination to our many pleasant hours together ; 
 but what can be done to smooth our rugged path,
 
 MILES TKEMEXHERE. 147 
 
 for we cannot disguise from ourselves that a very rugged 
 one lies between us ? " 
 
 "I never forget that ! Would to heaven I could remove 
 it! Time may — loill, I shoidd say," he cried, with 
 energy ; " but, to accomplish that glorious end, I must 
 
 toil — toil — toil, and far away from this place, and " 
 
 he was going to say " you," he substituted " Yorkshire." 
 
 " 'Tis very hard that, when we have known one an- 
 other from childhood " 
 
 " You forofet I was a man then even." 
 
 *^Well, then," she continued, "from my childhood, 
 that we should be debarred from meeting freely ; but 
 why do you always correct me when I say our child- 
 hood? why are you so very anxious to make me remember 
 that you are so much older than myself?" 
 
 " I say it, lest / should forget it." 
 
 " How do you mean? Where would be the harm?" 
 
 He looked at her so deeply, that her eyes fell beneath 
 his glance, and she blushed. 
 
 "AATiere is your sketch-book?" he hastily said, look- 
 ing away from her glowing face; but his eyes went 
 lingeringly to other things. 
 
 " You have it in your hand ! What are you thinking 
 of. Mi — , Mr. Tremenhere?" she hastily substituted. 
 
 The sketch-book fell from his hand, and he grasped 
 hers involuntarily, and the deep, dark eye grew full of 
 passion, as it fixed itself on her face. '^ Call me," he 
 whispered, " by that half-uttered name, and I will tell 
 you why I always recall to my memory our difference of 
 
 age."
 
 148 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 But she was silent, trembling, and incapable of 
 speech. 
 
 " Do say it ; pray, utter it this once, and I will dare 
 to believe you will not forget me— a poor, lonely man — 
 when I go." 
 
 " I shall never forget you. Miles Tremenhere," she 
 answered, gravely looking up. There was no blush or 
 hesitation : there was only truth, and its ever accom- 
 panying fearlessness. 
 
 " Do you know, child," he exclaimed almost painfiilly, 
 as he clasped her hand convulsively, "what you are 
 doing this day ? You are bending a strong, stern man, 
 to womanly weakness ; you are tearing every other 
 thought from my heart, to engraft yourself there. 
 Minnie, I have dreaded tliis moment ; yet I had not the 
 courage to fly you. I have said every day, ' To-morrow ;' 
 and that morrow has never come in w^liich I could quit 
 this nei2:hbourhood." 
 
 "Hush !" she cried in alarm, looking round; "I heard 
 a footstep." Her voice trembled with many emotions. 
 
 " There's no one here," he answered, scarcely glan- 
 cing round. " It was perhaps my heart you heard beat ; 
 there are footfalls in that — those of remorse for my 
 weakness — those of my mother's spirit deserting me; 
 for I have sworn only to think of her. And yet, Minnie, 
 do you know, amidst aU this wild passion to-day, which 
 your word, your utterance of my name, has called forth, 
 I am not sure I truly love you ! Were I certain of that, 
 nothing could ever reconcile me to a separation from 
 you. 1 woidd strain every nerve of my soul to make
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 149 
 
 you love me ; and, loving thus, ask you to be mine — in 
 toil and poverty perhaps — assured that nothing could sur- 
 pass in misery, separation from each other." 
 
 "Is your heart more difficult for you to read, than 
 mine is for myself?" she asked, looking up in childlike 
 confidence. "^line is an open page, I know " 
 
 " Do not speak what you think you read there, ^Minnie; 
 ■ -hearts are deceitful things, like words in dead tongues : 
 we must search well, to define the real signification of 
 things written there. Love has a counterfeit — passion. 
 If I knew mine, purely, truly yours, worthy of you — or 
 if I knew you tndy loved me — there is not that power on 
 earth which should part us !" 
 
 '^ Sm*ely," she whispered, in terror grasping his arm, 
 '^ there is some one in that archway, yonder — I heard a 
 step!" 
 
 "No, 'tis fancy," he repHed, looking round; "my 
 earnestness has startled you, poor child — poor child, in- 
 deed, if you loved me ! — an outcast, a wanderer. For- 
 get all we have been saying, ^linnie," he added, sorrow- 
 fully; " for be sure of this, if we really love, or are to love, 
 some great event will call that afiection to hght — prove 
 and hallow it ; for it will be based on esteem, else you 
 had not trusted me so far, nor I, been so confident to- 
 wards you. Come, let us leave this old ruin ; you are 
 terrified to-day. I will see you outside of its huge walls, 
 and then we must part ; once on your black mare, "v\4th 
 old Thomas beside you, you will forget this. Let us 
 go, child; why, you tremble still!" and, more with
 
 150 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 fatherly care than aught else, he drew her arm beneath 
 his own, and they silently quitted the ruin. 
 
 " Now, will you doubt my perspicacity again, Form- 
 by ?" cried Marmaduke Burton, stepping from beneath 
 the dark archway, and dragging the half alive Juvenal 
 after him. " I told you they met in secret. I wish we 
 could have heard all they said." 
 
 " I'm horror-stricken ! " shivered Juvenal, with gen- 
 uine truthfulness. " What is to be done with her?" 
 
 " Lock her up ! we'll soon hunt him out of this neigh- 
 bourhood. Come out through this side-passage, my 
 buggy's there; they must not know we heard them yet !"
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 !MiNNiE returned home at a quick gallop. She felt 
 as if pursued by some visionary being. Not once did 
 she pause or look back, after the one gentle wave of her 
 hand to Miles, who stood statue-hke, watching her, 
 beside the old ruin, as she passed. Even poor, old 
 Thomas could not extract a word from her, she flew so 
 quickly homewards. On alighting from " Jet," she 
 hastened to her o^vn room, and, thi'owing off the hat 
 which bound her brows, sat down to think, and thus 
 she sat some silent moments ; then rising gently, as 
 though she had held communing with some spirit, she 
 crept quietly about, as she changed her riding-suit for 
 her ordinary one. When this was accompHshed, she 
 opened her door, and steaHng down the passage, rapped 
 at her aunt Dorcas's room. " Come in," answered the 
 quiet voice which ever fell soothingly on her ear, and 
 ^Minnie was in an instant beside her. A few desultory 
 remarks passed about her ride, where she had been, 
 etc.; to these Minnie replied with evident constraint. 
 Dorcas at last noticed her manner, and, looking up from 
 a purse she was knitting, exclaimed, "My child, are 
 you not well? Why do you seem so much oppressed?"
 
 152 MILES TREMEXIIEKE. 
 
 This was all the young heart required to unburthen 
 itself. She flung her anus round, her aunt's neck, and 
 burst into tears. " Dear, dear aunt ! " she sobbed ; " for- 
 give me — forgive Minnie — for deceiving you, though 
 not for long, dear aunt." 
 
 "My child, what do you mean? Good heavens! 
 what has occurred?" and she folded her arms around 
 her. 
 
 "Aunt, I have wickedly deceived you," sobbed the 
 
 girl still ; " I — I ." She was unable to continue for 
 
 her tears. 
 
 " Tell me, Minnie, my own dear child ; I forgive you 
 before knowing," exclaimed the gentle woman. " I am 
 sure you exaggerate some slight fault ; be calm, tell me 
 all : what do you mean?" 
 
 For some moments Minnie could not summon courage 
 to reply ; then at last, by a supreme effort, she confessed 
 her many accidental meetings with Miles Tremenhere 
 at first, and this one by appointment. 
 
 "Dear Aunty," she whispered, " I know now how very 
 wrong it has been; but I feared telling you, lest you 
 shoidd betray me to the others. And though I know you 
 will be just, they would not perhaps, but by coercion, 
 endeavour to force me to their wills ; they have spoken 
 of such things, and I couldn't bear that !" 
 
 Dorcas was pained beyond measure. Her surprise 
 left her speechless ; for the suspicions instilled into Ju- 
 venal's mind by Burton, were strangers to her. Syhna, 
 we have seen, was on a wrong road altogether ; thus, she 
 had been kept in complete ignorance. She durst scarcely
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 153 
 
 question her niece : she feared lest some new sorrow 
 might come to light — some positive engagement. In 
 her alarm, she dreaded ahnost to hear that they were 
 married. Minnie mistook her silence, and, clasping her 
 again in her arms, besought her not to betray her. '^ I 
 was so wretched in deceiving you," she cried ; " but do 
 not let my uncle, or aunt Sylvia, know; and oh, not 
 Dora!" And she shuddered with a blind terror, not 
 seeing the phantom of her fear : " They will lock me up, 
 and be unkind, and harsh — I know they vnH ; and then 
 I vdW answer for nothing I may do I" 
 
 "Minnie, ^Minnie — my child — my o^ti child, do not 
 say such things — there," and she fondly kissed her ; " be 
 calm ; you have done wrong, but no one shall know it, 
 so you promise me never to meet him again mthout my 
 knowledge." 
 
 "I promise all, aunt — my mother; for indeed you 
 have been one to the motherless child. I never wiU 
 conceal any thing again from you ; and you won't tell 
 Dora?" 
 
 " No one, Minnie ; but why especially not Dora ? " 
 
 ^linnie looked do^vn in thought. "It is not my 
 secret," she said at last, looking in Dorcas's face ; 
 " but I wiU teU you, for I cannot understand it." And 
 she related the moming-'s meetine: between the two. 
 Dorcas started ! " Something of this Sylvia has hinted 
 to me," she said ; " how did she know it ? I paid Kttle 
 attention to it, she fancies so many things." 
 
 " She must have been in the garden, too !" exclaimed
 
 154 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 Minnie. It is a strange mystery ; for Dora professes to 
 hate him, and is always speaking against him to me." 
 
 "Beware, my child !" said her aunt, sadly; "men, they 
 say, are deceitful. Take a lesson of what his father 
 was ; for we have no proof, however we may believe his 
 mother innocent. Then his cousin, Marmaduke Bur- 
 ton, is a wicked, bad man." She thought of Mary 
 Burns. " Wickedness often takes root, as a canker in a 
 family : this Miles Tremenhere " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried ^linnie, with a glowing face, " do not 
 say he is a bad man, dear aunt, for my sake ;" and she 
 grasped her hand, and the eye filled with the tears of a 
 noble soul defending an oppressed person : " he is all 
 goodness — worth. Think to what he has devoted him- 
 self; but you do not know alL" And here the quick 
 tongue depicted all his wrongs — his labour of duty and 
 love, for his mother's sake. 
 
 Dorcas sighed deeply. " Minnie," she said, " you love 
 this man. Oh ! promise me to see him no more. If 
 really he love you, he will struggle for a good pm'pose 
 alone. I will see him, and should he prove himself here- 
 after worthy of you, you are a mere child ; well, you can 
 wait for the proof of his affection, in his constancy." 
 
 Much more was said. Dorcas was lost in perplexity 
 how to act for the best ; she, the ignorant woman in all 
 the aifairs of the heart. One thing she promised, to see 
 and calmly listen to Tremenhere ; she was too truly just a 
 woman to mar Minnie's happiness for any whim of her 
 own. Much as she woidd have wished Skaife to be her 
 niece's choice, she resolved to weigh all w^ell; and if
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 155 
 
 Tremenhere hereafter proved himself worthy of the gu'l, 
 to support their affections in every way. Still she 
 hoped it was a merely passing fancy, which would soon, 
 in absence, be forgotten by both ; for he must shortly 
 leave — this Minnie had assured her — and for the pre- 
 sent there was nothing to fear. In this mood she dis- 
 missed INIinnie fondly ; and, closing her door, sat do^vn 
 to ruminate on what was to be done. As a last re- 
 source, she determined to confide in the confidant of 
 all, ^Irs. Gillett, and ask her ad\dce ; she, as a matron, 
 might be enabled to guide her more ignorant thoughts 
 in such matters. But with the worthy housekeeper her 
 comfort was small. We have said that this good woman 
 made a point of never betraying the confidence of one 
 person to another ; nevertheless, she reserved to herself 
 the satisfaction of castinor forth on the troubled waters 
 around her, her innuendoes, which, as an invariable rule, 
 troubled them still more. Thus she left Dorcas in the 
 most uncomfortable state of doubt and fear, above both 
 of which feehngs there predominated a dread that Miles 
 Tremenhere was a villain, trifling, for some unworthy 
 purpose, vdth the affections of both her nieces, whom, 
 by strange chance, he had become acquainted with. 
 While she sat with [Mrs. Gillett, Minnie was above in 
 her room, much happier and light-hearted for the con- 
 fidence she had made to her " dear aunty," and full of 
 love and faith in Tremenhere. Lady Ripley and her 
 daughter returned fi'om Ripon, and thus diversified 
 many gloomy thoughts and fears, by their presence. 
 Minnie and Dora warmly embraced. ^linnie's first
 
 156 MILES TREMEXnERE. 
 
 movement was all delloht at seeing lier cousin ao;ain: 
 and Dora, the seemingly cold Dora, held her in her 
 arms in one long embrace. But it was an awkward 
 kiss — in the midst of it Minnie thought of Tremenhere 
 and her cousin ! A kiss should be all self-absorbing ; 
 the moment you are sufficiently collected to think, the 
 embrace should cease, for the fire is extinct, and only 
 ashes remain on the lip. Both girls simidtaneously 
 loosened their hold of one another, and turned away. 
 Somehow, both actions arose from one cause — Miles. 
 Dinner was over : Juvenal had been in a state of the 
 greatest discomfort all the time ; he ate httle or nothing, 
 snapped at every one. Dorcas was thoughtful ; so was 
 Minnie. Lady Ripley alone was in spirits; something 
 had pleased her on her journey ; she had learned that Lord 
 Randolph Gray, whom she had mentally decided upon as 
 Dora''s husband, would shortly be in town. Dora was calm, 
 though rather pensively disposed, when suddenly Syhda 
 awoke the bright blush in her cheek, and a displeased 
 and amazed frown on her brow, by remarking, " Dora, 
 you look paler than when you left us ; I fear you have 
 not taken your usually early walk before breakfast." 
 And before any one could reply, asked, as if the pre- 
 vious sentence were allied to the latter question — " How 
 
 far is it fi'om Gatestone to Ripon? — I mean to 
 
 Court, where you were staying?" 
 
 "About ten miles, I think, are there not, Dora?" 
 said Lady Ripley. 
 
 ''A mere canter for a gentleman before breakfast," 
 observed Sylvia, before the other could reply. Several
 
 MILES TREMEXHEPtE. 157 
 
 looked embaiTassecl, for various reasons. Lady Dora 
 was deeply confused, and evidently still more annoyed 
 and amazed. Juvenal alone seemed a stranger to all 
 conversation, only busy with his own thoughts. Now 
 and then he looked at his watch, then at the door. At 
 last, a horse's hoof sounded on the gravelled drive, out- 
 side the window; the bell rung, and, a few moments 
 afterwards, Marmaduke Bm'ton was ushered in. He 
 looked paler than usual, and his hand trembled as he 
 shook hands with all, but Minnie, who merely bowed; 
 as she did so, he bit his lip, and a cold smile of triumph 
 passed over his face. At that moment, the servant 
 opened the door. 
 
 *' If you please, sir," he said, addressing Burton, " the 
 groom bade me say ' Yiper' is not with yom' horse ; and, 
 as he always accompanies you, he thought you must 
 have lost him." 
 
 *^ I have," answered the other, scowling malignantly ; 
 "he's dead!" 
 
 "Dead I" exclaimed Juvenal. " A^liy, you had him 
 to-day!" 
 
 " True, Formby ; never mind now — he's dead ; " and 
 he turned to Lady Dora, and made some commonplace 
 remark. 
 
 Before we proceed fiu'ther, we will step back to where 
 Marmaduke Burton quitted the manor-house that even- 
 ing, followed by his dog, in the good guardianship of 
 which he had much faith. Juvenal had consulted with 
 him on the best plan to be piu'sued as regarded Minnie ; 
 and it had been decided upon, that Marmaduke should
 
 158 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 drop in, as if accidentally, in the evening, and that then 
 her uncle should, thus fortified, lecture her before "a 
 friend of the family," on her great imprudence. This 
 was the very worst plan Avhich coidd have been adopted 
 with a girl of her spirit. Any thing just, might have 
 been accomplished by kindness ; but bad management, 
 and too many to order and control, had deteriorated the 
 character of an else perfect creature. ^linnie was a 
 little headstrong and wilful, having too much good 
 sense blindly to submit to injustice. Burton anticipated 
 the results : he really loved her as much as he could 
 love ; he thought, by judiciously taking her part, to vrin 
 her gratitude — a great step, when he saw her every 
 feeling went against him ; and, should she be resolute 
 in her rejection, from want of affection, or even toler- 
 ation of him, perhaps a feehng of shame to know, that 
 he might blight her good name elsewhere, by speaking 
 of her secret meetings with Miles, might weigh Tv^th her 
 prudence. Any thing, so he gained her, now more than 
 ever, for he no longer could doubt a mutual attachment, 
 though, perhaps, not very firmly knit, between her and 
 his cousin. Thus ruminating, he quitted home on a 
 bright summer's evening. The manor-house was about 
 three miles, by the road, from Gatestone. His horse's 
 rein was on its neck, his dog at the animal's heels, when 
 suddenly a man, in a turning in the road, stood before 
 him. One glance was sufficient for ^larmadidie. Had 
 he dared, he would have turned hastily homewards 
 again ; something like shame withheld him. 
 
 " Stop !" cried Miles, calmly standing before his
 
 MILES TRE3IEXHERE. 159 
 
 horse's head, and grasping the rein. "One word, 
 cousin Marmaduke I" 
 
 " Unhand the rein !" exclaimed the other, " or I will 
 spur the animal over jou, fellow!" 
 
 "Pshaw!" said ^liles, contemptuously, "you'll but 
 unhorse yourself; I wish not to detain you long — a few 
 brief words will suffice ; do not be alaiTaed, I have come 
 \>ithout a cudgel to-night, so hear me quietly." 
 
 "I swear to you!" cried Burton, though his voice 
 slightly trembled with an alarm ^liles ever inspired 
 him with. " Unless you loosen your hold, and let me 
 pass, I will do as I said — one prick of my rowel in his 
 flank, and this good servant of mine vnH. pass over you ; 
 but I do not wish to harm you." 
 
 " No ; or else you would bid your familiar there at 
 your side, attack me !" 
 
 Burton in his terror had forgotten Yiper, who stood 
 at his side, shewing his range of huge tusks, ready at 
 a word to spring upon Miles, whom he knew for an ene- 
 my. Burton raised his hand in signal. 
 
 "Stop him!" cried Miles, still grasping the horse 
 firmly. " I woidd not kill the brave brute, but I tell you 
 I am prepared to do so — for hear me you shall. I mean 
 no violence, I have never interfered with you, save when 
 your coward acts obliged me ; leave me in peace, and I 
 will not war with you, except on our day of retribution, 
 for it will come — but I have something to say to you 
 to-day " 
 
 Before he could complete the sentence, at a quiet sig- 
 nal from his master, Viper flew at his throat ; at the
 
 160 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 same moment, Marmaduke gave the rowel into the 
 horse's flank, which sprang forward. This spring threw 
 Viper back, or else the day had been Burton's in flight, 
 for the doe: aimed at the other's throat. Miles was firm, 
 and on his guard against treachery. The dog reeled 
 with a blow from the horse's shoulder ; Miles drew the 
 rein with a jerk, which almost brought the animal on 
 his haunches, and Marmaduke from his saddle. Quick 
 as thought !Miles drew a small pocket-pistol from his 
 bosom, and just as Yiper was making a second rush 
 towards him, he shot him dead. Burton groaned with 
 terror. The horse made a mad effort to escape ; then, 
 finding the strong grasp on his rein, stood still, trembling 
 with fear. 
 
 "Poor brute!" said Miles, putting back his pistol 
 and looking at the dead dog ; " but 'tis better so, he 
 might have been made to do some bad deed some day, 
 in bad hands. I thought he would be made your pro- 
 tector again, so I came prepared. Now we are two — 
 man to man — hear me." 
 
 Burton could scarcely keep his seat from a coward 
 fear, thus quite alone with the man he had so much in- 
 jured. 
 
 " To-day," continued Miles, " you were in the old 
 ruin by the river's side — you and her uncle : I saw you, 
 but she did not — for this, I abridged her stay. I did not 
 know your companion, till I watched you creep forth, 
 like a base hound as you are, ever working in secret and 
 darkness ; and now, hear me — I love that girl — love her, 
 as / love and hate, with all my soul, if all the powers of
 
 MILES TRE3IEXHERE. ICl 
 
 eartli stood between us, she shall be mine, or none other's. 
 She does not yet know all my feehng towards herself. 
 I would not expend all the force of that affection in one 
 interview. I garner it up, like my hatred for you ; and 
 now I tell you, that unsleeping as my hatred is, so is my 
 love undying, and I will accomplish both ! AATiat I have 
 to say to you is, do not come between her and me ; you 
 ^vill not prevent, but you may cause her pain ; and every 
 hair of her fan' head is counted in my heart to hang lov- 
 ing thoughts upon, and woe betide if the weight of one 
 of these be lost to her in peace, through you. Now I have 
 said all I wished to say, you may go; but stay," he 
 added, again graspmg the loosening rein, " remember, 
 not by counsellings of others, darken one moment of her 
 life, neither watch, report, nor seek her ; yours she never 
 will be, and I am here to avenge any grief to her ; I have 
 more fiiends at Gatestone, perhaps, than you think — now, 
 go ; and if you advise, let it be wisely done ! " He 
 dropped the rein, and Marmaduke, who had vainly looked 
 about, stealthily, hoping for some fi'iendly face, some 
 one to witness against ]Miles for violence, but all was 
 silent, putting spin's to his horse, reached Gatestone. 
 No wonder, then, he looked pale with his cousin's words 
 ringing in his ears ; especially those, " I have more 
 friends at Gatestone, perhaps, than you think." He was 
 in a mood to utter every syllable in fear and trembling 
 before the person he had started from home with the 
 intention of confounding — namely, poor little Mnnie. 
 As he seated himself, he caught Juvenal's eye, and 
 made a sign which he intended for one imploring silence. 
 VOL. L M
 
 162 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 He was afraid of his shadow just then ; but Juvenal was 
 not one of very vivid intellect — he saw the sign — he had 
 been awaiting tlie otlier's coming to speak. Thinking 
 this the right moment, he commenced. Mannaduke 
 couo'hed — all went as encouraorement into Juvenal's ear ; 
 60, fixing his eyes on the thoughtful Minnie, he began 
 in his peculiarly nasal twang to give utterance to a 
 speech he had been conning over an hour before. 
 
 " We are all friends here, ^larmaduke Burton. I look 
 upon you already/ as almost one of the family ; therefore 
 I choose you to be witness of my just resentment, and 
 firm resolution to have things amended. I see you 
 approve me," he added, catching Burton's grimace, and 
 mistaking its meaning. "You have blamed me, my 
 friend, for supineness ; you shall see how resolute I can 
 be!" 
 
 All looked up in amazement ; Sylvia fixed her eyes on 
 Dora, who began, even she, to feel uncomfortable. Such 
 prefaces are like bats flying round a room in some old 
 house ; every one fears them, not knowing on whom they 
 may alight. Minnie was most unconcerned of all, until 
 her uncle, pitching his voice in its most tenor and 
 unj)leasant key, exclaimed — "Minnie Dalzell, I am 
 addressing myself to you. This day I, and my worthy 
 friend Burton, were in the old ruin, wlien you, forgetting 
 all maiden modesty, left your horse and old Thomas, the 
 coachman, to sit upon a heap of ruins with " 
 
 " For mercy's sake, uncle, not before him ! " almost 
 shrieked Minnie, springing up in terror of something, 
 she scarcely knew what, and glancing at Burton.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 163 
 
 "Brother, brother I" cried Dorcas, grasping his arm, 
 herself pale vdih anguish for her beloved niece ; she 
 knew ^linnie better than any one else did, and dreaded 
 the conseqnences of this ill-advised exposure, "which 
 would only harden a resolute mind, where reasoning and 
 love might have soothed, and turned away from its will. 
 
 " But I will speak, Dorcas ! " cried he. " I am advised 
 to do so, and publicly, to show her what people will 
 think of her. Minnie, I say, was sitting alone on a heap 
 of ruins with that scoundrel. Miles Tremenhere, this 
 worthy man's base-born cousin*" 
 
 "Xot base-born, uncle," cried Minnie, starting up 
 again; she had dropped on her chair. At these words she 
 forgot all but Miles's sacred love for his mother, who, by 
 tliis slander of him, was doubly calumniated. "Not 
 base-born, uncle, though that man say it. His mother 
 was as piu*e as my o^vn, or she had never given birth to 
 so worthy a son I" then a sense of her shame, before so 
 many, coming over her, she sank on her chair, and, 
 covering her face, sobbed aloud. Dorcas clasped her in 
 her arms ; Dora, too, though trembling, pressed her 
 hands, as she drew them from the face, which turned in 
 maiden shame into Dorcas's neck. 
 
 " Brother," cried Sylvia, with self-satisfied scorn, 
 " you always are discovering some wonder. You are 
 \ATong — quite wrong — as usual* If Minnie were there, 
 'twas A^Tong ; but others are more to blame than she, and, 
 I make no doubt, could explain, if tJtey icould.''^ She 
 glanced angrily at Dora, who certainly was colour- 
 ing, though without noticing Sylvia's personality. Lady
 
 164 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 Ripley looked amazement on all. Juvenal was com- 
 pletely thrown out; he had made up a complete discourse, 
 questions, answers, prayers, confessions, and final for- 
 giveness — for he loved Minnie dearly, in his little way. 
 Marmaduke almost would have preferred the lane and 
 Miles's society, to this scene. There, he knew in his heart, 
 he had no actual violence to fear, for every day was not 
 one of retributive justice, as when his cousin avenged 
 poor Mary Burns' s case ; but here he di'caded some un- 
 seen trap, to draw him into something which woidd 
 bring Miles in revenge down upon him. 
 
 " I ask you, Burton," cried the perplexed Juvenal, 
 at length, " whether we did not discover Minnie and 
 your worthless cousin together ? and whether you did 
 not suggest our following her, on the assurance that they 
 frequently met in secret ? Come, speak out. Burton — 
 they won't believe me," whined the wretched man. 
 Dora raised her fine eyes, and fixed them intently upon 
 the traitor. Lady Ripley rose. " Why — Avhy," stam- 
 mered Burton, " this is a most unpleasant affair — a family 
 one — I have no right to be here. I would rather not 
 reply," and he too rose. 
 
 " Stay !" cried Lady Dora, looking very pale, but ^vith 
 much dignity, placing herself in his way. " Mr. Burton 
 has been chosen, or been selected, most unadvisedly by 
 my uncle, to hear accusations against my dear cousm 
 ]\linnie, who is, I am certain, innocent of all wrong. I 
 am called upon to confess the truth, now — that / have 
 sought, met, and walked, early in the morning with Mr. 
 Tremenliere. My motive for so doing I will answer to
 
 MILES TREMENHEEE. 165 
 
 my mother, and I know him to be incapable of v\Tong 
 towards Minnie I " 
 
 " But, pardon me, Lady Dora ! " exclaimed the amazed 
 Bmi:on, gaining com'age from sm^rise. " You were 
 assiu-edly not the person who met Mr. Tremenhere 
 to-day." 
 
 "She wasn't here — she wasn't here!" cried the per- 
 plexed and heated Juvenal, almost in a fit fr'om anxiety. 
 " She only returned home before dinner." 
 
 Minnie tried to speak. "Hush I" exclaimed Dora, 
 taking her hand. " Do not compromise yourself for me. 
 You met him on my business. / T^^ll explain that satis- 
 factoiily, when I am bound so to do." 
 
 " I knew it — I knew it I " cried the delighted Sylvia, 
 rejoicing in her o\^ti perspicacity. 
 
 '• She is taking my faidt on herself," sobbed Minnie, 
 with streaming eyes. I alone am to blame !" 
 
 " Can any one understand this, or them?" asked Ju- 
 venal, almost whining. 
 
 " Come, Lady Dora," said the mother, haughtily. 
 " This requires explanation elsewhere," and she sailed 
 away, followed by Dora, who stopped, however, first, 
 and whispered softly to her cousin, as she embraced her. 
 " Do not betray yourself. / have saved you this time — 
 save 7/ouj'self before it be too late." Poor Minnie was too 
 vreak with weeping to reply ; she could only press her 
 hand. Dorcas too arose, and, taking her niece fondly 
 round the waist, led her away, and the door closed on 
 Marmaduke, Sylvia, and Juvenal, and these three de- 
 cided that it would be well if Lady Dora left. There
 
 166 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 was a mystery no one could fathom. Sylvia then related 
 Dora's morning walk, which certainly still further ob- 
 scured the aiFair, and then she too left the room, to 
 consult with Mrs. Gillctt ; and, when quite alone witli 
 Juvenal, no longer fearing traitors, Mannaduke related 
 his meeting with his cousin — the threats — the acknow- 
 ledgment of his love for Minnie, and thereupon these 
 two worthies decided ; one, that it would be best to pre- 
 vent any more meetings by a little gentle coercion, and 
 Juvenal at once resolved that she should be locked up !
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XIII, 
 
 "Hush !" said Dora, soothingly, some hours later, as 
 she sat in ^Minnie's room beside her, holding a hand in 
 her own. "All will be fair and bright soon, dear 
 ^linnie. IMr. Biuton has been the mover in all this, to 
 \ATii you ; I think that man loves you, in truth I do." 
 
 " And woidd you counsel me," cried the sobbing gM, 
 " to marry so unworthy a creature ? — this prying, mean, 
 mcked man?" 
 
 Dora was silent a moment, in embarrassed thought ; 
 then she looked up and answered, though not at ease, 
 evidently, "A\niy, he may seem many harsh things 
 now; jealous of his cousin, he knows scarcely which 
 way to act. I think you might be happy with him.*" 
 
 "With Marmaduke Burton!" she exclaimed, and her 
 tears dried up in her starting eyes with wonder. " ^larry 
 him ! I'd die sooner than even harbour the thought a 
 moment ! Oh, Dora ! can you counsel me to so terrible 
 a thing?" 
 
 "I do it, Minnie, to save you," her cousin replied, 
 looking on the ground, and half-sighing as she spoke. 
 " I dread your being led into some entanglement with — 
 with — ^Ir. Tremenhere."
 
 168 MILES TKEMENHERE. 
 
 "And if I loved him, Dora, what then?" 
 
 " Oh, 'twould be a disgrace — an irretrievable, false 
 step ! " cried the other in agitation. " Think what he is ! 
 A man without name, position, character, perhaps — 
 what do you know of him?" 
 
 ** And what do you know against him, Dora ? " asked 
 Minnie, no longer sobbing, but in a low, firm voice. 
 
 " This — that, in my opinion, no honourable family 
 should forget its dignity, and become allied to a blighted 
 name, a name with the stain of " 
 
 "Do not say that !" exclaimed her cousin, rising with 
 energy, and pacing the room for an instant; then, as 
 suddenly stopping before Dora, she continued, " Do not 
 so harshly, and I am sure unjustly, judge a fellow-sister. 
 'Tis only in the hand of Time, the fate which may await 
 ourselves ; perhaps, calumnies Vv^e may suffer from — 
 innocent now, innocent then, too. Dora, I love that 
 man ; I never knew how well, until I weighed it by my 
 tears. I love him the deeper for every one I have shed 
 this day for him !" 
 
 Dora was very pale, and did not reply. 
 
 Minnie continued : " Why do you hate him so much ? 
 Why did you seek him ? Dora, dear Dora, tell me 
 that!" She knelt before her cousin, on a stool at her 
 feet, and, taking both hands, looked up in her face. 
 
 For some moments Dora was painfully silent. " No," 
 she thought, " I will not tell her how weak I once was, 
 in nearly loving him." This was the war within her. 
 " I met him," she said at last, aloud, evading the first 
 question, " because I feared you might love him. He
 
 MILES TRE^HEXHERE. 169 
 
 bore the character, in Florence, of a reckless man — such 
 a man as you, mj innocent cousin, should not marry ; I 
 sought and begged him to quit tliis place and you!" 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Minnie, blushing at the picture before 
 her mind's eye, " he must have fancied I had spoken of 
 him with love, and we had scarcely met then, except as 
 strangers. I hope he does not think this now. How 
 could you have sought him for such a motive as that ? — 
 how touch on so dehcate a subject?" 
 
 " I feared nothing," answered Dora haughtily ; " my 
 o^vn dignity prevented a false construction being placed 
 upon what I said or did. You are a child in the ways 
 of the world, and, in your innocence, might compromise 
 yourself, family, all, -with this nameless man. I do not 
 say any tiling personally against him, but our name has 
 ever been without stain ; do not you, ^linnie, by a base 
 alliance, stamp it vnih. a reproach." 
 
 " Dora," and the ghi spoke low and impressively, " I 
 may never, perhaps, meet Miles Tremenhere again; I 
 feel certain, if I do, that only trouble "WTill arise from it, 
 for all seem against him, poor fellow ; but this beheve, 
 that, if I truly know myself — if that man love me, unless 
 I become his wife, I never will marry another ; for he is 
 so surrounded in my heart by every noble sentiment, 
 from his wTongs, and the holy mission he has taken 
 upon himself, that none other could hold the place in 
 my esteem which he does. Do you know, Dora, I 
 thought you loved him, and for that reason I dreaded 
 my own heart's inclination towards him; now I am 
 assured you do not, I seek no longer to check my affec-
 
 170 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 tions ; for though I may never be his mfe, there can be 
 no error in my love, for I never shall marry another." 
 
 Dora could not reply. The brow contracted — the 
 cheek slightly flushed as in scorn — and then she grew 
 pale and calm. " It is useless speaking to you," she 
 said, after a thoughtful pause ; " not now, at least — to- 
 morrow we will resume our conversation. I will leave 
 you now, Minnie ; I do not wish my mother to know I 
 have been here — she would question me, and I wish this 
 conversation unknown to her." She rose hastily, as if 
 some newly-formed plan impelled her to do so. " Good- 
 night, dear cousin, and pray, think of all I have said; 
 'tis fondly meant." 
 
 " I know that well, Dora," answered Minnie, tenderly 
 embracing her. Dora seemed impatient to leave. Tak- 
 ing her taper in her hand, she hurried down the passage, 
 and rapped gently at Aunt Dorcas's room-door ; first 
 assurins: herself that Minnie's was closed. She remained 
 for some time with Aunt Dorcas, and, briefly relating 
 her unsuccessful suit with her cousin, implored Dorcas 
 to act for her. Surely some motive more than deep in- 
 terest in Minnie guided her, though possibly unknown 
 to herself; for this anxiety and fear for consequences 
 were far beyond the usual forethought of a young girl. 
 Such, generally, see all couleur de rose where two love, 
 especially if young and handsome : futurity, interest, 
 etc., they leave to older hearts, to cause heart-ache and 
 care. The results were various next day, of all these 
 plottings and consultations. The first was. Lady Rip- 
 ley, to her daughter's surprise, sent her word early in
 
 MILES TREMENHERE, 171 
 
 the morning, by her maid, to prepare for their depar- 
 ture for town. Truth to say, Lady Ripley was 
 delighted to find a good excuse for leaving Gatestone, 
 where she had promised to remain a month longer. 
 She was anxious to return to town on Lord Randolph 
 Gray's account, as we have seen ; and she made poor 
 Minnie's imprudence the excuse. In vain Lady Dora 
 endeavoured to make her change her determination, 
 urging the necessity of some one to watch over Minnie. 
 She felt terrified, agitated, beyond expression, at the 
 thought of leavinor ; but all her efforts to remain were 
 fruitless. Lady Ripley loould go ; and she told Juvenal, 
 that Minnie's misconduct obliged her to remove her in- 
 nocent daughter from her influence, lest her name should 
 become in any way compromised. This more than ever 
 decided him on secluding Minnie in her room, to mark 
 his disapprobation. And, as this conversation took 
 place late the previous evening — in fact, while Dora was 
 with Minnie — the latter was not a little overwhelmed 
 with shame and indignation, when ordered next morn- 
 ing to '' remain in her own room, until something should 
 be decided about her." Sylvia was furious — all her 
 jealousy of Lady Ripley broke forth in invectives against 
 her intrio^uino^ dausjhter, as she termed Dora. Dora im- 
 plored for Minnie ; Dorcas argued the imprudence, not 
 to say injustice, of so erroneous a step as thus degrad- 
 ing the girl in all eyes ; it would make her lose all self- 
 respect, and only engender recklessness. But Juvenal 
 was like all fools — obstinate. Moreover, he was backed 
 by Marmaduke Burton, himself too short-sighted to
 
 172 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 foresee the consequences whicli might ensue. He 
 hoped by hypocritically expressing his regret in some 
 manner, by letter or personally, as Juvenal promised he 
 should see her, to win at least a kind feeling through 
 gratitude. Narrow-minded persons reckon only natu- 
 rally, to the extent of their powers of reasoning. Min- 
 nie read him as she would an open page, and despised 
 him tenfold more, if possible, for his narrow policy. 
 Dora, in consternation and regret, took leave of the 
 weeping Minnie. Alas ! those tears would soon be dried 
 by the wTong course pursued with her, and only give 
 birth to silent resolution and suspicion of all, even for 
 awhile of her dearly loved aunt, Dorcas. Dora was 
 gone ; Sylvia in earnest consultation with Mrs. Gillett, 
 both agreeing that the master of the house, and Minnie's 
 guardian, to do as he willed with her — was an idiot ; for 
 had not Lady Dora acknowledged that she alone was in 
 fault ; and had they not both witnessed the lovers meet- 
 ing ? Poor Minnie had been selected by them as a go- 
 between. It was dreadful; but Mrs. Gillett, with her 
 usual caution, said but half what she really thouglit, and 
 in an after scene with Juvenal, though she pleaded for 
 Minnie's liberty, at the same time so impressed him with 
 the idea of her condemnation of all but himself — and this 
 without any great deceit on her part, for the last speaker 
 always had most reason in Mrs. Gillctt's mind — that he 
 fearlessly gave her free permission to visit ^linnie, how 
 and when she pleased ; indeed, the key of the rooms 
 (for there was a small music one where she was in the 
 habit of practising, adjoining her bedroom) was in-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 173 
 
 trusted to the housekeeper's safe keeping. " I tell you, 
 ]Mrs. Gillett," he said, " it will do her good — one excel- 
 lent lesson lilve this will save the girl — she has g^o^^^l 
 very headstrong of late." 
 
 Poor, bhnd Juvenal; his excellent lesson was as a 
 stepping-stone to many sorrows — a finger-post doA^Ti a 
 long dark lane hedged with care, like thorns ! Dorcas, as 
 usual, did the most sensible thing of any of them. She 
 walked over quietly, and in a spirit of conciliation, to 
 Farmer Weld's, where Tremenhere was staying, and, 
 requesting an interview, v.as sho^vn into the room where 
 he sat, but not alone — to her great surprise IMr. Skaife 
 was his companion. Tremenhere rose in surprise, and 
 some sHo;ht confusion. Had the farmer himself been 
 there, the entrance might have been accomplished vritli 
 more difficulty ; as it was, only a serv^ant was in the outer 
 hall (a sort of large, homely, perfect old Enghsh farm 
 kitchen) as she entered, and, innocent of \^Tong, shewed 
 her in to where the two sat. After the momentary 
 movement of embarrassment, Tremenhere offered her a 
 chair, and in his own quiet gentlemanly manner, express- 
 ed his pleasure, whatever the cause, at her visit. He 
 knew she was ^linnie's almost mother, and he regarded 
 her accordingly. Skaife rose, and coming fonN'ard said, 
 "You are doubtless surprised to meet m.e here, and 
 especially before visiting Gatestone. But I returned 
 late last night, and this morning called to see Mr. Tre- 
 menhere — whom I may call my friend, I believe — in an 
 affair interesting to both of us.'*
 
 174: MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " Do you mccan Miss Dalzell?" exclaimed Dorcas in 
 a,stonishment. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Skaife, looking equally amazed 
 at this abrupt question — being, as he was, totally igno- 
 rant of the recent events ; " I allude to that poor girl, 
 Mary Burns, whom I have placed in safety from further 
 insult, at the request of Mr. Tremenhere, as business 
 prevented his leaving this neighbourhood himself." 
 
 " It is kindly and rightly done by both," said Dorcas, 
 scarcely knowing what she should next say — then added, 
 without farther consideration of how far it might be pni- 
 dent to inform Tremenhere of all — "But I may be par- 
 doned for regretting that ]\Ir. Tremenhere should not 
 have been occupied elsewhere, as the events of the past 
 few days threaten more painful results, I fear, than he 
 anticipated when engaging in them." 
 
 " Good heavens ! what do you mean, madam ? " he 
 asked, starting up*]aghast. Skaife sat like one petrified ; 
 something painful was paralyzing his faculties ; he could 
 not speak at first. Tremenhere glanced at him, after 
 the first exclamation had escaped him. " I beg pardon," 
 he said, in agitation. " I should, perhaps, be an impor- 
 tunate witness. I will go," and he prepared to do so. 
 
 " No, stay ; pray, remain, i^Ir. Skaife," cried Dorcas. 
 " I am glad you are here : you may perhaps exert your 
 influence as a clergyman, as well as a friend, with Mr. 
 Tremenhere." 
 
 Women who have never loved overlook and ignore 
 many penalties attached to such chains round the heart; 
 they are like a felon's irons, resounding with every step
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 175 
 
 we take, and galling somewhere, especially when but little 
 hope is linked with th'em. Such was poor Skaife''s case, 
 and something now whispered him, that that little would 
 soon be lost. Her next words confii-med this fear; for, nei- 
 ther of them answering her last speech, she continued 
 hastily, as if resolved to utter all the worst at once, ad- 
 dressing herself to Miles — " You are perhaps not aware, 
 Mr. Tremenhere, that your most imprudent — most un- 
 fortunate meetings of late, with IMiss Dalzell, have been 
 discovered, and reported to all, but first to her uncle 
 and guardian — my brother." 
 
 '' I am aware of that," he articulated through his set 
 teeth. 
 
 Skaife felt cold at heart, and he felt, too, the blood 
 deserting his cheek. For an instant a movement of in- 
 dignation arose against Miles, as if he had deceived him; 
 then the justice of the man triumphed, and bitter as 
 his regret, his awakening regret, was — for he felt some 
 painful revelation was about taking place — he exonerated 
 the other from all wrong towards himself, ignorant as he 
 was of his affection for Minnie, and, even if he had been 
 acquainted with it, bound by no friendship or honour to 
 him, to act otherwise than his inclinations dictated. 
 
 *^A11 is known," continued Dorcas, in a sad tone; 
 " and my heaviest grief is, that her uncle should have 
 taken, I fear, so ill-advised a step as the one of coercion 
 with ]Minnie." 
 
 "Coercion!" exclaimed both Miles and Skaife in a 
 breath. 
 
 " Yes; he has determined upon keeping her confined
 
 176 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 to lier room, until you, Mr. Trcmenhere, shall have 
 quitted the neighbourhood, as the only means of sepa- 
 rating you; but I fear he has done a rash thing with a 
 girl of Minnie's high spirit." 
 
 Tremenhere rose hastily from his seat, and grasped 
 the arm of his chair, as if to subdue his feelings ; he only 
 ejaculated "Oh!" but there were volumes of thought 
 in that one word, and the resolute compression of his 
 stern lip, as he half-smiled. Dorcas was looking thought- 
 fully on the ground. Skaife's eyes were fixed upon 
 Tremenhere's face ; he read his fate there, if her affec- 
 tion equalled his, in intensity and firmness. Tremen- 
 here caught his eye, and, smiling in friendly confidence, 
 as seeming to say, " You shall know all," dropped silently 
 into his chair. 
 
 " I have come," said Dorcas, more composedly, " to 
 ask, to implore you, Mr. Tremenhere, by the friendship 
 which no unfortunate circumstance has banished from 
 my thoughts — to leave this place, and forget any foolish 
 words which may have passed between you and Minnie. 
 Believe me, all pursuit wiU be vain — her uncle never 
 will consent." 
 
 Skaife looked anxiously for the reply. Tremenhere 
 rose impetuously : — " Madam," he cried, " in what light 
 am I to regard this visit, with which you have honoured 
 mel — as a friendly one, or as one dictated by ^Ir. 
 FormbyT' 
 
 " I come at my own heart's dictating," she answered 
 meekly, " to one whom I liked, even though a wayward, 
 impetuous boy— to one whom I sincerely pity ; but
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 177 
 
 whom, nevertheless, I cannot countenance as a suitor to 
 my niece." 
 
 "As all these I gladly welcome you, except when bear- 
 ing the last prohibition/' Tremenhere replied, as he took 
 her hand gently, and pressed his lip upon it with deep re- 
 spect. " And, as Miss Dalzell's much-loved aunt, I reve- 
 rence you, dear madam ; nevertheless, in all candour, I 
 must not deceive you. If ^Nliss Dalzell love me, as I now 
 believe her to do, not all the uncles or guardians in 
 the world, could keep her so carefully but that my love 
 and perseverance should reach, to confirm her in her 
 affection, by the assurance of mine, unalterably hers I" 
 
 " Unless I am in great eiTor," said Skaife, after a 
 moment's intense thought, "the acquaintance between 
 yourself and ^liss Dalzell is of very recent date ? " 
 
 "It cannot be of many weeks," answered Dorcas, 
 clinging to the hope that Skaife's words implied, of its 
 being little matured. 
 
 " What signifies date in love ? " cried Tremenhere. 
 " The heart rejects all such. The brightest flowers are 
 those blushing to light in half an hour's sunshine I" 
 
 "And they fade as soon !" ejaculated Dorcas. "Oh, 
 pray, ^Ir. Tremenhere I relinquish this mad thought ; or 
 leave here for awhile : let time decide upon the durability 
 of your affections." 
 
 " And leave her," he cried, with a scornful laugh, " to 
 the tender mercies of a guardian, who, for so slight a 
 seeming fault as half an hour passed in an old ruin, with 
 one she knew from childhood, can dare to use violence 
 towards her ? Oh, no ! Had you, dear madam, unad- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 visedly done so, I would plead to your good sense and jus- 
 tice ; but with men I war as a man should. What I 
 may do, I know not ; but whilst Miss Dalzell is confined 
 on my account, and unjustly treated, I am bound by 
 honour, as well as love, to stay and defend her." 
 
 "Then you knew one another long since?" said 
 Skaife, sadly. With this admission from Miles, he saw 
 every hope fade for himself. 
 
 " Oh, yes !" answered the other, and the voice grew 
 gentle with the thought of that fair child ; " when yet 
 she was but a baby girl — a fair, flaxen-haired little 
 thing ; and, as we talked of those days together, year 
 after year like melting icebergs faded away, and we 
 stood side by side again in confidence and affection, with 
 the sun shining upon us ! " 
 
 Skaife and Dorcas both simultaneously looked at each 
 other ; and the looks said, " All is over — 'tis vain wrest- 
 ling with fate ! " 
 
 "Besides," continued Miles, as if reading their 
 thoughts, " there is a fate in all things. Our meeting 
 has been one ; it was so pre-ordained." 
 
 " Do not let that urge you," said Skaife, in forlorn 
 hoi^e of influencing him. " All things are not ordained 
 at our birth ; we may turn many evils aside, though 
 placed in our path, by decision ; they are as temptations 
 and stumbling-blocks — rush on heedlessly, and they over- 
 throw us — avoid them, they will not follow, but, like 
 daunted cowards, shrink back ! This temptation may 
 be to lure you from a noble thought !" 
 
 " By heavens ! you do well to remind me of that ; I
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 179 
 
 had wellmo-li overlooked it !" exclaimed ^liles, standinor 
 up ill all the majesty of liis proud beauty. " This is a 
 double incentive to win Miss Dalzell, to boldly stand on 
 the ground her generosity has awarded me ; in winning 
 her, I shall struggle with redoubled energy to prove my- 
 self what I know I am ! Thank you, Skaife^ thank you ; 
 and you, dear madam, pray bear in mind, that whatever 
 my acts may be, they shall be dictated in all true aiFec- 
 tion towards your niece, so that you, the generous. 
 Christian woman towards myself, may approve me." 
 
 " 'Tis vain urging you more, ^Ir. Tremenhere," she 
 said, rising ; " I can but now appeal to my niece's affec- 
 tion for me, and duty towards herself." She cmisied, 
 and was turnino; awav. 
 
 " Not thus," he cried, taking her hand. " Let the 
 man be boy again, and take the hand in friendship once 
 never refused him ; think that all wliich may be done, 
 will be done for ^liss Dalzell's happiness. I do 
 assure you I have never told her I loved her, nor has 
 she confessed her's ; but I am well-assured she has read 
 mine, though mi/ hope may be too presumptuous. Let 
 this comfort you, dear madam — Miss DalzeU holds the 
 decision in her hands, it is not in mine !" 
 
 A faint hope rushed to Dorcas's heart. Skaife had 
 none. He looked upon Miles, and felt she must love so 
 noble-minded a man, whose soul sat upon his brow, to 
 record its worth in open day. 
 
 The men shook hands, Skaife promising to return 
 soon ; and, escorted by him, Dorcas quitted the flirm-
 
 180 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 house, leaving Tremenhere a prey to many wild thoughts 
 and schemes. 
 
 This day, after a lengthened interview with Juvenal, 
 to confirm him in his severity and watchfulness, !Marma- 
 duke Burton quitted the manor-house. Somehow he 
 durst not remain after having told all to Juvenal. lie 
 remembered Miles's threats, and so he quitted for awhile, 
 leaving Dalby to watch and report, as Juvenal also had 
 promised to do; and, above all, keep the refractory 
 Minnie under lock and key !
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 We have said that Minnie was in a state of the 
 greatest consternation when made acquainted with her 
 uncle's stem resolution of coercion. At first she was 
 too much pained to think — aU power of reasoning had 
 given way before the shock ; she felt overwhelmed with 
 shame, shame of herself — that much to be dreaded feel- 
 ing in a young girl's heart. In ^linnie's, after the 
 power of memory returned, it created a sense of deep 
 desfradation, followed bv recklessness — two dano^erous 
 things with which to start in that new phase in exist- 
 ence — love ; for the latter would make her care little for 
 consequences, the former bid her oppressed heart cling 
 with double affection to the bosom where her head 
 might He in peace, love, and a true appreciation of her 
 worth, and indio^nation for her ^vrono-s. She sat and re- 
 viewed aU her conduct, and then her swelling heart 
 revolted against her uncle's injustice; for, in point of 
 fact, she had but once met Tremenhere by consent, on 
 the fatal day in which they were discovered. We have 
 seen their fii-st acquaintance through ^Ir. Skaife ; then 
 in Mrs. Gillett's room ; subsequently, INiiles had watched 
 for her, 'tis true : but she was innocent of aU, except
 
 182 MILES TREMENHERB. 
 
 concealing these meetings — and to whom confide them, 
 knowing well how unpopular he was ? Once or twice 
 he had met her even in her uncle's grounds, as she sat 
 sketching; he took pleasure in directing her pencil. 
 Then, when he proposed to sketch her favourite old min 
 for her, if she would come, what harm could she see in 
 the request ? It was a fact, he ever seemed more, to 
 her mind's eye, as a dear brother, friend, playfellow of 
 childhood, than a man to be shunned for love's sake. 
 Without a dream of harm, she went there ; and it was 
 that day, for the first time, that her heart awoke to its 
 real state, and her o\Tn. danger. We have seen how she 
 flew, in confidence and love, to repose aU in the bosom 
 of her beloved aunt. We say all this, because we would 
 plead Minnie's case with prudes and worldly-wise folks, 
 who might shake their heads in grave reprehension, or 
 accuse her of more error than, in honest truth, she was 
 guilty of. All these scenes she reviewed in her quiet 
 chamber ; and then, the deep sense of wrong and de- 
 gradation overwhelming her, she dropped on her knees, 
 and, compressing her throbbing temples with her hands, 
 wept long and bitterly. She was as a statue mourning 
 over itself, as the base of its pedestal from whicli it had 
 been rudely hurled in scorn and derision by some sense- 
 less mob. In this mood Dorcas visited her, and endea- 
 voured to soothe, though even she blamed, her. Then 
 Sylvia came, and inveighed against her brother's mad 
 blindness ; for, " Had not Dora confessed ? — to be sure 
 she had. Minnie was too good a girl to deceive any 
 one, or compromise herself by meeting this Tremen-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 183 
 
 here ! " "Whereupon, ^Minnie, takmg Dora's part, de- 
 clared that she alone was to blame for all. Sylvia's 
 anger arose at this "mock sentimentality," as she 
 termed it. " It is positively absm-d," she cried, " en- 
 deavouring to screen Dora I All, but my foolish bro- 
 ther, know that you are quite innocent in this affair. 
 A pretty thing, indeed, to accuse yourself of so dis- 
 graceful, unpardonable, indelicate an act, as privately 
 meeting any man I" 
 
 This certainly did not soothe her ; but the crovniing of 
 all was when Juvenal entered, and, reproaching her as a 
 disgrace to them all, declared she should not quit her 
 room until she consented to marry Mamiaduke ! Oh ! 
 then Minnie's spirit rebelled ; she paced the room when 
 he was srone, and nothino; scarcelv could have been des- 
 perate enough to satisfy her exasperation at that moment, 
 by way of revenge I Poor girl, revenge, like curses, 
 sends its chickens home to roost I Thus passed the 
 first day, and the second something like it, and then 
 evening came. Juvenal, like other little bodies, was a 
 great man in a brief temporary power ; he was master of 
 Gatestone, and resolved to show all that he was so. All 
 this was Burton's counselling ; consequently, when the 
 second day came, and ^linnie still vras obdurate, and 
 firmly refused even to see Marmaduke Burton, should 
 he come, her uncle resolved to tighten her chains, and 
 so he forbade even Dorcas or Syhda to see her, only 
 Dame Gillett and himself! Even the squire had confi- 
 dence in the housekeeper, he had made her frequent 
 presents, for which she had been very grateful ; more-
 
 184 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 over, he knew she had favoured his suit with Mnnie ; 
 he and Juvenal — indeed all were more or less ignorant 
 of her great error about INliles's affections being placed 
 on Lady Dora — and none knew that she had not quite 
 cast from her regards the "comely boy" Tremenhere. 
 She certainly urged for. Marmaduke, when she went to 
 Minnie's room, and as certainly did she ignorantly add 
 fresh fuel to feed her love for his cousin, by beguiling 
 the time to the prisoner, relating how Master Miles had 
 come last night again to her room, frightening her out of 
 her wits for fear he should be seen, and how he was 
 nearly mad himself to see ^linnie — poor young man ! 
 "just to speak, of course, of Lady Dora ; and she didn't 
 think that lady had behaved well to him, and she pitied 
 him from the very bottom of her heart," &c. &c. &c. Min- 
 nie was learning worldly caution ; she saw ]\Irs. Gillett's 
 error. All her protestations to her aunt Sylvia had 
 been disregarded, in clearing her cousin of any impru- 
 dence, and Mrs. Gillett was Sylvia's echo in all. She 
 at first, from sheer disheartenment, left this latter in her 
 error, and then permitted her to remain in it, as she 
 seemed resolved to do so. This, too, Tremenhere was 
 doing, but with more active motives. Braving all risk 
 tlie previous evening to see Mrs. Gillett, and speaking 
 of his love, incline this woman to assist them to a meet- 
 ing, provided Minnie would consent, he found, after 
 five minutes' conversation, on what an en'oneous path 
 the housekeeper was walking, so he paused in his reve- 
 lation of love. Might not this serve him better than 
 confiding the truth ? Men are generally less scrupulous
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 185 
 
 than women in telling stories. Some rejoice in tliem ; 
 for nothing would ^linnie utter one ^^'ilfLllly — she ab- 
 horred them as mean, and devil's snares too, ever 
 leading somehow to sorrow; but Tremenhere only 
 thought of how to accomplish a meeting with her. jMi's. 
 Gillett's mistake might render it practicable ; so he not 
 only permitted her to think him in love, and beloved by 
 Dora, but favoured the deception of judgment in every 
 way ! " Time will prove the real facts," he said to him- 
 self. "It cannot injure Lady Dora; ^Ii'S. Gillett I know 
 to be one to confide in fearlessly, so let it pass I — 'tis a 
 straw of hope." 
 
 AVe are not, reader, painting a 7xira avis in Tremen- 
 here; but a noble-hearted, generous man — headstrong, 
 fiill of wild passions — but honourable in every dictate of 
 his soul. Still, a mere mortal man, driven to despera- 
 tion by various causes ; and resolved, however it might 
 be done, to see [Minnie, and know his fate from her o^xn 
 lips. If she loved him — then all woidd be clear before 
 him. Mrs. Gillett, however, was too much alarmed 
 then, to second any interview, but she gave him leave 
 to come again in the dusk ; no one was near, and she 
 pitied the poor fellow ! ^ATiat real woman is deaf to a 
 tale of love and locksmiths? if she can give nothing 
 more, she awards her sincere sympathy. ^Ir. Tremen- 
 here left, and stealthily crept through the garden and 
 shrubbery, gaining the fields beyond unperceived. Next 
 eveninoj he ao^ain salUed forth towards his confidant's. 
 It must not be supposed that ^Irs. Gillett felt annoyed 
 at being thus sought — far from it ; it increased her con-
 
 186 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 sequence, giving her power, which no one totally 
 despises. She felt sometimes as much embarrassed with 
 all these various plots and plans in hand, as a charioteer 
 in a ring, driving a dozen wild horses at onoe. The 
 only thing to prevent concussion, was the keeping them 
 Well in hand, with perfect self-possession; and these 
 things she always kept in view. Besides, she was not 
 •Nvronjrino; her master's confidence in her : he was in 
 error, and she felt she should rather be obliging him, by 
 removing all fear about Miss Minnie, by favouring the 
 loves of this man and Lady Dora. On this evening, 
 Tremenhere, at ten o'clock, was to bring her a letter for 
 Minnie, which she faithfully promised and purposed 
 giving to her ; all relating to lady Dora, of course, un- 
 derstood. At a quarter to ten. Miles stole through the 
 shrubbery gate, of wliich she had given him a key. It 
 was a lovely starlight night in June — no moon to betray 
 his wandering — just light enough to lead him onward in 
 safety. He closed the gate, and stood for a moment 
 looking around — then a lover's thought — a perfect lover's 
 one, arose in his mind, to go and look at ISIinnie's mn- 
 dow. We always like to know the aspect of such things, 
 in such cases. He had learned from Minnie herself, 
 which were her's. In a few moments he stood before 
 them, on the soft turf, looking upwards. There was a light 
 within, but the window was open — 'twas a lattice ; for 
 Gatestone was not a modem built structure, but a good 
 old family seat, like so many we meet with in the north 
 of England, especially in Yorkshire. It was the sort of 
 lattice window from wliich one could have fancied a
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 187 
 
 dame in the olden time, waving a snowy scarf to a de- 
 parting warrior ! Before this comfortable-looking, 
 homely window, hmig a curtain. This side of the house 
 was facing the south, and a TN-ide-spreading vine 
 mingled with the ivy on the wall, creeping around it. 
 There are many cruel temptations in life, thrown in our 
 path. Now Tremenhere had merely, lover-like, stolen 
 round to look upon his "la dye's" ^vindow ; but whilst 
 gazing upwards at it, something against the wall attracted 
 his attention. He drew nearer, cautiously. This temp- 
 tation was a ladder, which John Gardener had left, after 
 naihng the vines. In an instant, a thought — a desire, 
 crept into ]\Iiles's heart ; this was natiurally, to make use 
 of tliis ladder ! It was an impidse — an irresistible one. 
 Cautiously he moved it nearer ^linnie's window, and 
 crept half-way upwards. A voice struck on his ear I — 
 then another I — the first was Juvenal's, the last ^linnie's. 
 This latter seemed scarcely able to articidate distinctly 
 from emotion. Some woidd have moimted higher, and 
 listened. Miles's conscience forbade this. Though trick- 
 ing's all fair in love, he felt it would not be strictly 
 honourable ; so down he crept again. The man's voice 
 rose — the woman's seemed scarcely a breath — then a 
 door closed violently, and all was for a moment still 
 within that chamber, or rather, the little music-room ; 
 for this it was. Then the voice rose hig^her, and the 
 girl was sobbing in her solitude and affliction. Juvenal 
 closed the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket, 
 sagely shaking his head as he did so. " She shall never 
 quit that room till she consents to marry Burton!" he
 
 188 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 soliloquized, as he dropped step by step ploddingly do\^^l 
 stairs, nodding as he did so. " Burton was quite right," 
 he continued ; " I have been too lenient — I'll be master 
 now — it is just a little obstinacy ; of course, I must know 
 better than she can what's for her idtimate benefit. 
 Her spirit will soon give in, and, as Burton says," (Juve- 
 nal was like the assinine tribe, he wouldn't move without 
 a goad — Burton was his,) "she'll soon surrender; and as 
 for that Tremenhere, why he vdll tire in a short time, 
 when he finds it impossible to see her, and leave the 
 neighbourhood. This good key in my pocket," here he 
 smiled and nodded in perfect contentment and peace, " I 
 defy him!" As he uttered these last words, Tremen- 
 liere, regardless of every thing but poor sobbing Minnie, 
 pushed aside the curtain, and darkened the casement 
 before stepping in. She uttered a faint scream of 
 terror. 
 
 " There you may scream ! " cried Juvenal, who heard 
 her; "but I shall not let you out. Was there ever so 
 obstinate a girl? Could any one have believed it?" 
 
 "Minnie, dear Minnie!" whispered Tremenhere, ste}> 
 ping in. " For Heaven's sake, hush ! 'tis I, Miles," 
 and he clasped the hand of the terrified girl. 
 
 "Go — go!" she cried, releasing her hand, and re- 
 treating in breathless alarm, she scarcely kncAV why. 
 '^ Go ! this is madness ; it will ruin me should they 
 discover you. Oh ! Mr. Tremenhere, pray, pray, leave 
 me!" 
 
 "Mr. Tremenhere!" he said sadly. "Is it indeed 
 only this ? Oh ! then I have done wrong in coming,
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 189 
 
 and doubly wrong in causing you so much sufFerino-, 
 whicli I am powerless to alleviate by my devotedness !" 
 
 " You wrong me — you do ^\Tong me. Miles I " she 
 exclaimed, much agitated ; " but I am so overwhelmed 
 with my uncle's cruelty, I scarcely know what I say.*' 
 
 As the word " ^liles" fell from her hps, he was at her 
 side, her hands in both of his again, and his deep, lo vino- 
 eyes bent down upon the trembhng girl. " Do not 
 speak again, if it shoidd be to unsay that kind word, 
 ]Minnie," he whispered ; " but let me look at you silent, 
 and watch the emotion on your face, whilst I tell vou 
 all I now can say. That emotion will be my best 
 answer. Minnie dear — dearest, I love you. I would not 
 say these words when last we met ; I feared lest I had 
 mistaken a wilder, more evanescent feeling for this all- 
 absorbing one; but our separation has proved me. I 
 know myself. Had passion alone guided me, I should 
 not be here ; that, with me, is fleeting as a star seek- 
 ing the sea; but my love — oh! this is as the sea 
 itself. It may seem for a while to roll outwards — lost 
 in the world, as wave in wave ; but it will flow back to 
 break upon its own shores, and go wherever I may, my 
 love will ever return to cast itself at yoiu- feet." 
 
 "And what can this love avail us. Miles ?" she whis- 
 pered timidly, fearful of saying too much. " We must 
 part soon, and how may we ever hope to meet, with 
 so many to oppose us ? " 
 
 "Does this daunt you already?" he asked, smiling. 
 " If you love me, I fear nothing ; this assurance is all I 
 ask. Think well, dear girl, before you reply ; for I do
 
 190 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 not seek a mere confession of your heart's prompting 
 affections now. I ask you to ponder well, and say whe- 
 ther you are sure, Minnie, that above every man you 
 ever may see, you can love me? whether, for my sake, you 
 are wiUing, under all circumstances, to share my fate?" 
 
 " I have asked myself this. Miles," she said seriously, 
 " before to-night ; I need not pause to weigh my own 
 affections ; I never shall love any man as I love you." 
 
 " Minnie," he whispered, for he trembled with emo- 
 tion as he drew her gently towards his supporting arm, 
 " do not mistake your feelings, it would be destruction 
 to me ; for my every thought is united to you. Do not 
 wreck them, as so many others have been wrecked in 
 my sad fate. I am wrong," he added, more joyously. 
 " If you love me truly, when our lives shall be one, O 
 then, in that happiness I shall become another man, and 
 doubly energetic in my appointed task, for your dear 
 sake, to raise you where you should and shall be !" 
 
 " I don't know how it is, Miles," she said seriously, 
 for it seemed as if the child had all departed, leaving a 
 grave, thoughtful woman ; " but I never thought of love, 
 as they say most young girls do ; it was rather distaste- 
 ful to me, I heard so much about marriage until we 
 met ; and now, my love for you has so much of reve- 
 rence with it, I know I never could feel for another as 
 I do for you." 
 
 " Darling," he whispered, smiling, " I don't half like 
 that word 'reverence' — you must not feel too much of 
 that, or I shall dread the disparity of our years as 
 engendering fear, more than love : love, dear child.
 
 3IILES TREMEXHERE. 191 
 
 should be all-confiding, aU-fearless, childish, and inno- 
 cent." 
 
 " I do not fear you. Miles, believe me ; but I love. 
 I look upon you with so many combined feelings, as 
 brother, father — all those affections wliich I have never 
 known, they seem to gather round you : how, then, can 
 I do otherwise than reverence you?" 
 
 He was silent some moments: then, removino^ the 
 arm which had clasped her waist, he took her hand in 
 both of his, and said seriously — " My ideas, dearest, of 
 what a wife should be, are perhaps more rigid than those 
 of the many, and how that wife should be won. There 
 was a time, long ago, I might perhaps, in the impe- 
 tuosity of youth and prosperity, have urged you to fly 
 with me. Now, I would not do so ; for, ]\linnie, though 
 love at first may excuse all, there might come a time 
 when the husband would reflect. I am a very jealous 
 man; do not let this alarai you. You never would 
 arouse it by act of yours, I feel assm^ed ; still, we are 
 mortal. Some day I might remember how I had won 
 you, if you outstepped the bounds of strict prudence, 
 and this might raise the demon Suspicion in my mind. 
 You see how candid I am !" 
 
 " I love you for it the better, ^liles. Our love is not 
 an ordinary one. In wedding you, I espouse your 
 sacred duty, to work hand in hand with you, and urge 
 you on, should a momentary lethargy overtake you. 
 Such an engagement should not be lightly accepted; 
 for, in marrying you, I marry a man of care, and heavy 
 obligation."
 
 192 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 " Dearest Minnie, now I have no further fear ; so let 
 us speak of our plans. I came to-night — 'twas an im- 
 pulse done without consideration, or I should not have 
 been here — for your fame's sake, lest a discovery 
 might be made. I will not come again ; you must meet 
 me elsewhere." 
 
 " How, Miles?" she asked, smiling in his face ; "you 
 forget I am a prisoner !" 
 
 " I think I can arrange it, with the connivance of 
 
 Dame Gillett. She " He luid commenced this 
 
 speech smiling ; something, however, crossed his mind. 
 So pure was Minnie in his thought, so pure would he 
 keep her, that the idea of making her a party to his own 
 little ruse with the housekeeper, pained him. No ; he 
 preferred the risk of that woman discovering the truth, 
 rather than make Minnie do one thing, not clear as 
 noonday, even had she consented, which probably she 
 would not. " She," he said, correcting his first thought 
 " lilies me ; I saw her last evening ; she permits me 
 again to play the boy, and creep through that pretty 
 window, by which Minnie, too, has learned the way ; I 
 will induce her to smuggle you down there." 
 
 "Will she, do you think?" she asked joyously. 
 
 " I hope so, and now for another point, my darling 
 girl. !My wife must be boldly — manfiilly sought ; secure 
 of your love, I will ask your hand from your uncle." 
 
 "My uncle!" she exclaimed in terror. " He never 
 will consent ; he will be doubly severe with me, urged 
 on, I know, by Marmaduke Burton." . 
 
 " Confide in me, Minnie; this must be done. - Let them
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 193 
 
 not say of me, tliat I came only in secret, afraid of the 
 Hght. I have formed no plans ; only this first necessary 
 act must be put in practice : let time decide the rest. It 
 was the assurance of your more than passing love, that 
 I required, before appeahng to your relations. I do not 
 doubt you now, so my path is clear before me !" 
 
 For some time longer he argued with her, before, in 
 her terror, she could see the necessity of this active 
 measure ; but when he showed her how soon he should 
 be obliged, by engagements elsewhere, to quit this 
 neighbourhood, and leave her, these circumstances, 
 coupled with the absence of Marmaduke Burton, induced 
 her to give a trembling consent, on condition that no- 
 thino^ should be hinted about their havino- met since her 
 incarceration. Time, which always flies when we are 
 happy, warned them to separate, and yet, with aU his 
 stoicism, when he turned towards the window, his cour- 
 age to leave her failed him. "1 am weaker than I 
 thought, ^Minnie," he whispered, clasping her to his 
 bosom, and kissing the fair open brow, which blushed 
 beneath his embrace ; " for I know not how to leave 
 you in the great uncertainty of our meeting again soon. 
 What if I lost you ! " and, at the thought, his strong 
 frame trembled. "I feel that would make me more 
 than a desperate man — a perfectly reckless one ! Cliild, 
 how is it you have made me love you so well ? how have 
 you brought life where every feeling seemed dead ? 
 Remember, ^linnie, when they urge, or, possibly, en- 
 deavour to coerce your will — remember what you hold 
 in your keeping, and be firm !" 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 Minnie, in woman's weakness, wept, where lie prayed. 
 Weeping and prayers are bad sponsors for an affection — 
 they baptize it in sorrow ! One more embrace, and yet 
 his dark eyes, clouding in trouble, could scarcely with- 
 draw from her uplifted face ; he turned again and again, 
 and when his hand quitted hers, and his foot descended 
 the ladder, he felt a desolation never felt before, not even 
 when name and home were lost to him ! 
 
 While Miles was thus pursuing the love which had 
 spining up in his heart, amid so many weeds, one sweet 
 choice flower, scattered there by accident; his cousin 
 Marmaduke was staying in Lancashire with an old maiden 
 aunt. All, that such are represented, when sketched 
 by an unloving pencil, and there he received daily re- 
 ports from Juvenal, of the progress of his suit by proxy 
 with Minnie. We have said fear made him quit the 
 manor-house. People, when they scheme, trace out a 
 suppositious line over which all their personages pass in 
 succession; and they are sadly perplexed, when, by 
 some most unforeseen circumstance, they step out of 
 the road. 'Tis like a railway carriage running off the line; 
 it frequently upsets all the others. It had never 
 entered into the calculation of either ^famiaduke or 
 Juvenal, that Miles could in any manner hold convei*se 
 or communication mth ISIinnie, still less, have the 
 audacity openly to seek her. Great then was the con- 
 sternation of both — for one knew it nearly as soon as the 
 other — when a letter arrived for Juvenal, written in 
 manliness and dignity, before which, both, though un- 
 acknowledged, bowed in respect; stating, that well
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 195 
 
 assured nothing could change either his love for jVIinnie, 
 or her's for himself, he wi'ote, imploring Juvenal to 
 consent to their union. He (!Miles) had assm^ed liim- 
 self of her unalterable affection, the stronger for the 
 coercion to which they endeavoured to subject it; and 
 he could but implore her uncle and guardian, to con- 
 sider how far he was acting in love towards her, to 
 oppose this ; that assured as he was of his own legiti- 
 macy, he only wanted time to prove it, until when he 
 felt convinced ^linnie would be happier as an artist's 
 wife ; for such was the profession he had made choice of, 
 than as mistress of thousands, if they were separated. 
 He then apologized for a seeming vanity in speaking 
 thus positively ; but he only quoted the words of Hps 
 incapable of speaking untruthfully — hers. He had not 
 wealth to offer ; but an unblemished name — and this he 
 would prove — love imboimded, and the best wealth in the 
 world — that earned by those talents which are spirits' 
 gifts, etc., etc. We said, great was the consternation 
 this letter aroused. Every line was an enigma. How 
 had they met ? How communicated with one another ? 
 Evidently they had done so, recently. Juvenal rushed 
 off with the letter to ^linnie's room. She grew very 
 pale — then she thought of !Miles, and her heart strength- 
 ened itself — it leaned on his love, and grew strong and 
 fearless. Unhesitatingly she confirmed all the letter 
 said, adding more, "That she never would marry another. 
 She could not in honour ; for all her affections were his." 
 But she obstinately refused to hint even how they had 
 communicated with one another. And Juvenal could
 
 196 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 only rail, and declare, that "Now she should marry 
 Burton, and that right soon." Thus saying, he double- 
 locked the door, and hurried off to Mrs. Gillett. Even 
 with this evidence she would not believe that Minnie 
 was the real object — 'twas some trick ! And she shook 
 her head, as if she knew a great deal more than she gave 
 utterance to. All this drove Juvenal nearly mad; like all 
 persons of little mind, he was extremely curious ; and 
 this feeling predominated over even his annoyance at her 
 firm reflisal to marry Burton. He could not imagine 
 how they had met. A ladder was the last means of 
 communication he should have dreamed of. From 
 Mrs. Gillett he flew to Sylvia, who joined in one common 
 cause with him in perplexing her brains. Between them, 
 they settled the blame somehow on Dorcas ; for neither 
 loved her — she was too unlike them. Sylvia blessed her 
 own prudence, which had never inclined her to the love 
 of any man ! How easily we can abuse the tiling which 
 has never been offered to our acceptance ! And here 
 Juvenal committed the two most grievous errors he had 
 yet been guilty of, in Minnie's case ; he allowed Sylvia 
 to visit her, who, by her harshness and reviling of Miles, 
 Dorcas, and aU whom the other loved or liked, only 
 strenirthened her love and resolution. Dorcas, who 
 might have led her, was forbidden to have access ; for 
 Juvenal could be a tyrant when he pleased. The other 
 error he committed, was by Burton's advice, leaving 
 Tremcnhere's letter unanswered — a contemptuous si- 
 lence, which would raise a storm over his own head. 
 This evening Tremenhcre did not wander under Minnie's
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 197 
 
 Window, but went straight towards Mrs. Gillett's 
 room, and in the beaten path, wliich lay in an unbroken 
 line before his mind's eye, without hesitation he con- 
 fessed to her, that her own error had induced his 
 acquiescence about Lady Dora, that now, by no crooked 
 ways, would he win his vnfe — for wife she should be ; 
 and he begged her to think of her young days, and of 
 those when he was a favoured guest at Gatestone, 
 now, driven hence for no fault of his own ; and, in con- 
 sideration of all these things, to procure him an inter- 
 view with Minnie. She could easily arrange it, by bring- 
 ing her to her room when all were at rest — for, by 
 eleven o'clock, Gatestone v/as generally in profound 
 repose — quiet, at all events. Mrs. Gillett was aghast at 
 this confession. At first anger moved her; then her 
 woman's kinder nature arose triumphant, and she con- 
 sented for once — only once, to " do her best" — vrhich 
 meant, complete success, for she had the entire confidence 
 of Juvenal, and keys of the prisoner's room. INIrs. 
 Gillett was but a mere woman, though the oracle of so 
 many ; and, as she looked upon the tall handsome man 
 pleading so earnestly before her, she could not resist 
 him. She was not a woman to be bribed by money; 
 power and flattering of her talents did much, however ! 
 It had been a day of great excitement to all ; for Dorcas 
 had sought Skaife, in his double capacity as friend and 
 curate of the parish, and implored him to speak to and 
 reason with her brother — she feared all from his ill-ad- 
 vised conduct towards his niece. Skaife was manliness 
 itself; he felt much the loss of ^linnie. Nevertheless,
 
 198 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 he never had permitted hope to lead him much astray 
 as regarded her affection for himself. Miles he liked — 
 their hearts kindled towards one another ; and now, with 
 every wish to serve him, even at his own expense, he 
 sought Juvenal. In vain, however, he urged the injus- 
 tice of condemninor Tremenhere even if the law had 
 rejected him as heir to the manor-house, it was his 
 parent's error, if really he were illegitimate. 
 
 " If," said Juvenal, in his shrillest tenor ; " I tell you 
 he is, and a scamp into the bargain ! " 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Formby," said the other, mildly, 
 " if I ask your authority ? I have made diligent inquiry 
 before undertaking this mediation between you ; which, 
 let me add, is not from any solicitation of his. I say, I 
 have made diligent inquiry ; and Mr. Tremenhere, as 
 son and master, bore the highest character in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and is now spoken of by many with tears 
 of regret." 
 
 " If he were a respectable man," said the irate 
 Juvenal, " why did he go so often from home, and live 
 many months together abroad ? " 
 
 " By his parents' w^ish, and with their full consent. 
 He is an artist of great and rising fame ; his studio, 
 until destroyed at the manor-house, attested that, I 
 understand." 
 
 " This proves what I say !" cried the liberal-minded 
 Juvenal ; " no gentleman would have turned painter ; 
 and it also proves he knew of his illegitimacy, and was 
 providing against his fall from a false position."
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 199 
 
 Skaife bit his lip to keep down the angry reply. He 
 came to conciliate. He said at last, — 
 
 " I cannot agree with you, Mr. Formby, but will not 
 reply. I come now on a mission of peace, and for, I 
 conscientiously believe, the benefit of aU. Mr. Tremen- 
 here is attached to Miss Dalzell — his affection is quite 
 returned," (his voice trembled as he said this;) "it is 
 for you to consider, as one loving her so well, how far 
 you are acting kindly in blighting those affections. I 
 should not think Miss Dalzell one to love lightly or un- 
 worthily. Think, too, to what extremities you may drive 
 them?" 
 
 " I defy them — I defy them!" squealed the other ; " I 
 have her in safety — she shall marry ^larmaduke Burton ; 
 and in proof, I purpose sending her to his aunt's care 
 in Lancashu'e, where he is now staying." 
 
 Juvenal unwittingly let this escape him. Skaife 
 started in amazement and asritation. 
 
 " Surely ! " he cried, unable to control his emotion, 
 " you do not seriously intend doing this ? Pause 
 awhile, and reflect, Mr. Formby, on your niece's suffer- 
 ings so undeserved; for she was, at most, guilty only of 
 a little pardonable imprudence. Mr. Tremenhere had 
 known her as a child." 
 
 "I thought," replied Juvenal coarsely, " that you had 
 been a suitor yourself? All this seems very strange to 
 me, and not at all clear. What do you hope for by 
 giving her to another?" and he glanced suspiciously at 
 him. 
 
 Skaife coloured deeply ; and, taking his hat from the
 
 200 MILES TREMENHEKE. 
 
 table, said with dignity, " I hope, Mr. Formby, for the 
 approval of my own heart, in a cause which I, as a 
 clergyman, condemn, one of unjust oppression — ^pardon 
 me this intrusion ! " He bowed quietly and quitted the 
 room, leaving Juvenal abashed, angry, and more re- 
 solved, from sheer annoyance and petty spite, than ever. 
 Skaife quitted in deep thouglit. lie deemed it better 
 not to inform Tremenhere of what had escaped Juvenal 
 — ^namely, his intention of sending Minnie to Lancashire. 
 It might not be true ; it would perhaps urge him to some 
 act of desperation. Even Skaife was ignorant of how 
 the delinquents had met, which naturally made him 
 more cautious, suspecting, and truly, that Tremen- 
 here's honour was a safer barrier against his elopement 
 with Minnie, than all her uncle's locks and keys. On 
 the evening of these events. Miles, as we have said, sought 
 Mrs. Gillett, whom, strange to say, no one suspected of 
 being an accessory, favourable to Tremenhere and Min- 
 nie. The clock struck eleven, as the latter on tiptoe 
 crept down the long passage after the trembling ^Irs. 
 Gillett, who was completely bewildered between the 
 enormity of the deed she was committing, its re- 
 sponsibility, and her fear of being caught. However, 
 they reached her room in safety, and not even her pre- 
 sence prevented Miles from clasping Minnie in his arms, 
 as he called her by his favourite appellation, " My dar- 
 ling child!" 
 
 "Ay— child, child!" muttered Mrs. Gillett, shaking 
 her head. " It's all very well, calling her that ; but if
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 201 
 
 you only loved her as one, we shouldn't be all of us in a 
 peck of trouble !" 
 
 "Forgive me, dear ^Irs. Gillett," said ^linnie, hold- 
 ing out one hand to her, the other was clasped in 
 !Miles's, who looked down, all love and devotion, on her 
 lovely, smiling face, which, child-like, was lit up yriih 
 the present joy, forgetfid of past or future care. 
 
 " ^Irs. Gillett," he said, " you vnH be the first to laugh 
 and rejoice, when you come with us to the Old Place 
 yonder" — thus he always spoke of the manor-house; 
 "for I tell you again, we shall return there in gladness!" 
 
 " Ah ! well may it be so. Master Miles ; but I cannot 
 just see how that is to take place. He as is there, won't 
 be so soon got out, and I shouldn't speak against him 
 neither ; he's been civil enough to me, and master wishes 
 it ; but there, ssliss, don't ; and there's been so much said 
 one way and the t'other lately, that I'm conglomerated, 
 and don't know what to say." 
 
 "Gillett, you're a good soul!" exclaimed the happy 
 jMiles. 
 
 " It's very well calling me so, but I don't know that 
 I'm doing quite right ; but there, [Master Miles, I can- 
 not forget when you were a boy, and used to come in at 
 the window and steal my preserves, and laugh in my 
 face when you'd done so ; and I don't think you're as 
 bad as they say ; and though I do let you see her — poor, 
 
 dear child ! — don't go and steal her as you did my 
 
 Lauks-a-marcy ! what's that ?" she cried alarmed, 
 changing her tone. The others started up in alarm. 
 " Marciful luck ! if it a'n't master's voice and step
 
 202 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 a-comin' here !" and she flitted about, wringing her 
 hands in terror. There was a sofa in the room, and a 
 large housekeeper's cupboard; this was whence Miles 
 had often pilfered in olden times — well he knew it ; it 
 was the act of a moment, to draw Minnie in, and close 
 the door. Mrs. Gillett dropped, more dead than aHve, 
 on the sofa as the door opened, and Juvenal cautiously 
 peeped in, in liis dressing-gown, and, mth only his head 
 to be seen, scanned every corner of the room. 
 
 " Plist, Gillett," he whispered, as the terrified woman 
 stared at him, "it's only I. I've heard the strangest 
 noises in the house — come, and search with me;" and 
 he walked cautiously in. " I always take a strong cup 
 of green tea the last thing going to bed," he whispered ; 
 "Mr. Burton said it was a good thing to make one 
 wakeful, and so I find it ; one cannot be too much so 
 while that horrid man's in the neighbourhood. (Minnie 
 clasped Miles's hand.) But there's one blessing — my 
 niece won't be here much longer ; I'll take her to Lan- 
 cashire, to Miss Burton's, next week ; I've decided upon 
 that ! How scared you look, Mrs. Gillett ! Have you 
 been disturbed, too? Good, faithful creature, that's 
 why you are up so late ! Come, and help me search !"
 
 MILES TREME^TIEKE. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 Mrs. Gillett was destined to be placed in embarrass- 
 ins: circumstances in her own room, as on a former occa- 
 sion, so she was now afraid to move ; the window was open 
 — what if she went out with Juvenal, and Minnie should 
 run away ! Her blood ran cold at the thought. No, stay 
 she must, and risk any thing her master might say. She 
 looked up, the key was in the cupboard where the two 
 were hidden — should Juvenal go there ! Her agony 
 shewed itself on her countenance, which the other at 
 last noticed. " I have alarmed you," he said ; " come, 
 compose yourself; there is nothing wrong, I trust; only 
 I assuredly heard footsteps passing by my door, then 
 noises in the house." 
 
 " Lauk, Sir ! " exclaimed the woman, though still 
 trembling ; " it was that green tea — it always gives one 
 strange fancies." 
 
 " Well, maybe so, Gillett, but it will do no harm to 
 search ; but first let us shut down this window — it is not 
 prudent to have it open so late, and that man in the 
 neighbourhood." 
 
 " Marcy upon us !" she cried, impatiently, " one would 
 really think, from all the fuss made, that Mr. Tre-
 
 204 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 menhere was an evil spirit, master, and not a young 
 man we all liked once." 
 
 Juvenal stopped suddenly, and stared at her ; then, 
 turning round, walked silently to the window and 
 fastened it. His hand was stretched towards the cup- 
 board door, when a sharp clanging sound on the floor 
 startled him — he was any thing but brave; and the hour, 
 the half-lighted room, and assuredly not least, the cup 
 of green tea, made him nervous. lie sprang round, 
 "What was that?" he cried. 
 
 " I heard nothing," she responded sulkily ; now her 
 first alarm had a little subsided, a sort of dogged restless- 
 ness succeeded. Juvenal looked on the floor, but so 
 superficially that he did not notice a key which had 
 fallen from his pocket. "Come along!" he said, for- 
 getting the cupboard, " let us search the house — stop," 
 he cried, putting his hand in his pocket ; "what have I 
 done with the key of Miss Minnie's room ? Oh ! here it is," 
 and he took one from the table. " I just peeped in as 
 I came down — all was quite silent and secure there." 
 
 " That's my key, master!" exclaimed Mrs. Gillett. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Gillett, I put it out of my hand 
 when I came in," and he pocketed it ; and, a little better 
 than the last one, which had hung in the orifice, and 
 thus fell out — Mrs. Gillett felt more reconciled now the 
 window was fastened; so leaving her light, and following 
 Juvenal, she quitted the room, locking the door care- 
 fully after her, and withdrawing the key. As she did 
 80, the cupboard door opened, and Miles and his terrified 
 companion stepped out.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 205 
 
 "Minnie," he said "reckon to me to-night all the 
 degradation I have felt; obliged to hide, for your sake, 
 and that good woman's, like a thief I am indeed 
 thankful to Heaven that he did not find me — it would 
 have crushed my heart." 
 
 " I will weigh it against my affection, dear Miles," 
 she said, " and you will forget it." 
 
 " What could he mean," he asked, suddenly, " by 
 speaking of your journey to Lancashire ? Surely no 
 such project is in view ?" 
 
 " I have not heard of it. Miles; it must be one of my 
 uncle's sudden fancies. He is always starting some 
 unformed idea — oh ! that could never be intended ! " and 
 involuntarily she clung to him with dread. 
 
 "May his good angel keep him from such thoughts, 
 ^Minnie, dearest; for if he shoidd seriously intend, then I 
 will answer for no good resolution of mine resisting 
 ao^ainst so much wrono;." 
 
 " What do you mean, !Miles ? Don't look so stem — 
 you terrify me." 
 
 " Poor child !" he said tenderly, drawing her to a seat. 
 "how you tremble. In truth, !Minnie, our love has 
 been set in sorrow — gro^vn in care ; well, it will be the 
 stronger for it. Flowers are soon uprooted, weeds tena^ 
 cious, and difficult to tear from the earth. ^Minnie, 
 have you thought what we should do, if all gentle mea- 
 sures failed ?" 
 
 '^ I have not dared to do so," she whispered. 
 
 "Neither have I until the last half-hour. Those 
 words of your uncle distract my mind, and excite
 
 206 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 thoughts. What, IMinnie, if they should thus seek to 
 part us — what if force and tyranny be used ? There 
 would not always be a Mrs. Gillett, perhaps, to help us 
 — what should we do?" 
 
 " Do not let us think of it, dear !Miles, they never 
 — my uncle would never act so towards me." 
 
 " Not of himself, perhaps; but he is in the hands of as 
 dark-hearted a man as ever lived, Marmaduke Burton. 
 Promise me one thing to-night, dear child — swear to me, 
 that no power shall ever make you marry another.'* 
 
 " Miles, it needs no oath; even the thought is as little 
 tangible as falling snow, which melts in the outstretched 
 hand. I cannot even imagine the possibility of losing 
 
 you." 
 
 ^* Thanks, darling — thanks, dear ]\Iinnie, for that as- 
 surance. Now will I wait patiently ; work heart and 
 soul to win the favour of your friends; defy fate and my 
 worthless enemy ; and, above all, be patient, and wait." 
 
 How often do we make excellent resolutions, which 
 we think nothing can overthrow, and some mocking 
 devil has already crumbled the rock on which we built 
 them, to sand ! A step was heard in the passage ; they 
 rose hastily, when Mrs. Gillett coughed, in signal of 
 safety, as she turned the key outside. As Miles arose, 
 his foot struck against something on the floor; he stooped, 
 'twas a key. A sudden thought, an impulse, urged him 
 to conceal it, unseen even by Minnie. At that moment 
 the housekeeper entered alone, and closing the door cau- 
 tiously, locked it. 
 
 " Now," she cried, as she did so, " never again — ^no,
 
 MILES TREMENHEEE. 207 
 
 never, will I have any thing to do with this affair; there's 
 twice I have been nearly caught. No, never again I" 
 and she dropped, reaUy exhausted from emotion, into a 
 chair. 
 
 ** My dear GiUett," coaxed Minnie, putting a hand 
 on her shoulder, " don't be angry ; was it our fault that 
 tmcle came down? "WTiat shall we do without you ?" 
 
 " You do not mean it — do you, ^Irs. Gillett?" asked 
 ^liles, drawing a chair near her, and trying to catch the 
 hand she drew pettishly away. 
 
 " Yes, but I do, though," she crossly answered; " and 
 as for you, I really don't tliink you have behaved so well 
 to me ; you deceived me about Lady Dora, you " 
 
 "You deceived yourself, dear Mrs. GiUett. Come, 
 be just." 
 
 " Well, you didn't contradict me ? No ; I've been 
 deceived, and nobody cares for me. Who would have 
 thought of master coming sneaking down at this hour ? 
 drat his green tea !" and, as she spoke, she rose and be- 
 gan searching every where, in her pockets, and on the 
 table, chau's, sofa — every place. Poor Minnie, half in 
 despair, whispered ^liles — "Don't say any more to- 
 night ; she is cross : I know her humour. Leave her to 
 herself; it wiU be all right to-morrow." 
 
 '^\Miat are you whispering about, Mss ^Minnie?" 
 cried the crabbed woman, turning towards where they 
 stood, his hand clasping both hers. "Ugh!" she con- 
 tinued, tmsting away again, "it's all very pleasant, 
 love-maldng, I daresay. You don't care for me, or any 
 thing else. I want to know where's the key?"
 
 208 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 " What key?" asked the really innocent Minnie. 
 
 " What key ? why, the one of your door, to be sure. 
 Musn't I lock you up ? and how are you to get in with- 
 out the key?" 
 
 Miles bit his lip to conceal a smile ; he was quite re- 
 solved, unless in a case of absolute necessity, to keep it — 
 why? he had not asked himself. Neither he nor 
 INIinnie felt the least alarm ; they were again like two 
 children their trouble over, all smiles. 
 
 " Can't you help me to search for it ?" cried the almost 
 crying Mrs. Gillett ; " it must be here somewheres." 
 
 A silent search commenced; Miles enjoyed it, scarcely 
 answering to himself wherefore he felt so hght-hearted. 
 We often feel thus before care and grief. All at once 
 Mrs. Gillett uttered a cry between a groan and a 
 scream. "I have it — I have it!" she exclaimed, in 
 agony. " It was mine master took oiF the table ! Oh, 
 marciful I what am I to do now ? You're lost. Miss IMin- 
 nie, if they find out that you have left your room ; they'll 
 send you off before next week to Lancashire ! We're all 
 lost — all of us ! How are you to get in ? you can't creep 
 through the keyhole," and she flung herself on the sofa 
 in complete prostration of all power of thought. 
 
 *'Tell me," said Miles, pale as death, and now the 
 serious, anxious man again, " is what you say true ? 
 Are they really going to send Minnie away there V* 
 
 " Well, there's no use disguising it. I thought I 
 wouldn't tell you yet; sorrow comes soon enough. Yes 
 it is aU settled," and Mrs. GiUett was again her kind 
 self. Poor Minnie began crying bitterly. Miles had
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 209 
 
 been on the point of giving up the key ; when he heard 
 this, he again restored it to his pocket. He felt he 
 might find fi-iendly aid tlu*ough it. " Minnie, dearest," 
 he said, enclosing the crying girl in his arms, " don t 
 weep yet, we have time before us. Trust to me, and my 
 love neither will desert nor fail you. You shall never go 
 there. This is a time now to act, to meet force with the 
 strength my great love for you gives me. Come, ^linnie, 
 cheer up ; don't let me leave you in tears." 
 
 "Don't leave me!" she cried, clinging to him. "I 
 have so strong a fear upon me." 
 
 He was trembling liimself, and nearly overcome. By 
 a great effort he recovered himself; for, had he followed 
 liis heart's promptings, she would have quitted all for 
 liim that night. He knew, he felt his power over her, 
 and trembled for his o\ni resolution. 
 
 '^Obhge me, darling," he whispered, with quivering 
 lips. " Eetum to your room, confide in my unsleeping 
 watchfidness over you ; you never shall go to Lancashire. 
 In the last extremity, rely upon my being there to save — 
 now I cannot, will not ; I shoidd say, to do so, I should 
 have to reproach myself." She looked up, not knowing 
 his meaning, in answer to what her prayer had seemed 
 to implore, namely, flight. She did not know what she 
 uttered, in her terror at the idea of separation. 
 
 *'It is all very well bidding her go to her room," 
 chimed in ^Irs. Gillett ; " but tell me how is it to be 
 done?" 
 
 '^ Search," he answered, now perfectly calm, though 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 pale. "You must have many keys — search, you will 
 find one." 
 
 In a moment, the woman shook bunch after bunch 
 out of basket, pocket, and cupboard. After a long and 
 anxious examination, she selected three as "likely ones," 
 and, armed with these, crept up-stairs alone, to try 
 them first. 
 
 " Dearest," whispered he hurriedly, after she left the 
 room, " there are things we must trust no one with — 
 never name my visit to your room. I might, possibly, 
 come again thus, but I wiU not ; I would not have your 
 fame endangered — oh, not even if by those visits I could 
 win you ! But do this : look from your window at 
 eleven to-morrow night, and I will devise some means 
 of communicating safely with you. I fear GiUett will 
 serve us no more ; the poor woman is alarmed at pos- 
 sible consequences." 
 
 " Hush ! here she comes," ejaculated Minnie ; and, 
 as she spoke, the woman came hastily in: there was 
 joy on her countenance. 
 
 " Come," she said, in a low tone, " I've found one ; 
 and, if they catch me at these tricks again, they may 
 leave me in the lurch !" She was evidently addressing 
 her thoughts to some invisible Fates. No entreaties 
 could move her obdurate determination — she was firm. 
 
 Embarrassments chill the old heart, and quicken the 
 young. The two parted, as such a parting woidd natu- 
 rally be, in the uncertainty of soon meeting, ^iiles 
 was turned out unceremoniously, first; and then the 
 tearful ^linnie was taken up to her prison ; and Mrs.
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 211 
 
 GiUett promised " to think it over, and see what could 
 be done." And thus she left her to her reflections, 
 wliich were any thing but cheering. Poor gui ! had her 
 mother Hved, and been a good, sensible woman, the 
 cliild would have been like a lovely parterre, rich in 
 beautifid flowers, from among which the weeds had been 
 judiciously eradicated. As it was, full of wanu and 
 generous affections, they had been badly directed by 
 contrary interests. Her aunts and uncle aU conceived, 
 and justly, that they had an equal right to her regard, 
 duty, and obedience. Most unfortimately, all pulled 
 diflierent ways. Juvenal and Sylvia wore her spmt by 
 bad, peevish tempers ; only Dorcas could have suppHed 
 a mother's place, and her power was almost neutralized 
 by the other two. Thus, ^Minnie had gro^vn up with an 
 independence of mind not often met ^vith at her age. 
 She loved Dorcas dearly; but her keen perception made 
 her perfectly ahve to all the absurdity of Juvenal and 
 Sylvia. Her heart had nursed up almost all its warmth 
 of love, to cast the whole of it on one die — Tremenhere's 
 faith and love. She had, fortunately, chosen a worthy 
 object, and yet one unfitting herself in many ways. 
 
 He was impassioned, impetuous, jealous : one to exact 
 aU from her ; and even then, when her soul lay bare before 
 liim, suspect that a warmer affection might be found 
 there, if he but knew the tahsman which would unlock 
 the secret recesses of it. He had a want of confidence in 
 himself, which woidd cause him many a bitter hour. 
 Had she loved and married Skaife, her life woidd have 
 been one of the most complete happiness this earth could
 
 212 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 have afforded. As it was, her whole soul was given to 
 Tremenherc — he absorbed all. In the confidence of her 
 young, childish heart, she could conceal no part of it 
 from him : she loved like a slave, ready to obey him 
 bUndly in all things, unquestioning, undoubting. He 
 was her master, before whom she crouched in perfect 
 contempt of self, and hugged her chains. And this was 
 the man they threatened to separate her fi'om ! Though 
 the mortal woman wept at her oppression, the immortal 
 soul laughed them to scorn ! — they could not make her 
 forget him ! 
 
 The day following these events. Miles had a long 
 interview with Skaife, to whom he had become deeply 
 indebted in gratitude for his efforts in his favour. A 
 sincere friendship had sprung up between them, yet not 
 without some bitterness to Skaife, who could not yet 
 eradicate Minnie's thouc^ht from his heart. Thouc^h 
 graven there in bitterness, he sincerely mshed to make 
 her happy, and felt she would, in all human probability, 
 be so with Tremenhere — loving him, and so well 
 beloved. But even this desire of promoting her happi- 
 ness, made him conscientiously refuse to accede to a soli- 
 citation of Tremenhere' s, namely, to perform a private 
 marriage between them. It wall be seen this latter's 
 resolutions were fading away before the probable 
 trouble before them — thus it occurred. On leaving 
 Minnie the evening they met, as we have seen, he 
 walked homeward in deep thought ; the more he reflect- 
 ed upon her threatened removal, the more he trembled 
 for the result. Pie did not know her suiiiciently well —
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 213 
 
 he deemed that, like most gu'ls, though all afFection 
 then, once removed — ^persecuted, threatened, coerced — 
 her spirit would give wav, and she, perhaps, become the 
 wife of his cousin — Mnnie, his ^linnie ! It was a 
 spmtuahzed madness the thought ; for he felt it woidd 
 haunt him even in the grave — that nothino; could throw 
 a veil of obhvion over it. He had never spoken half liis 
 passionate love to her — ^he feared lest, in giving vent to 
 it, it might master and carry him away to some deed he 
 afterwards should bitterly regret — such, for instance, as 
 eloping with her. His ideas of women, were more than 
 ordinaiilv rio-id, in vouno- men. He had thouof'ht and 
 suffered so much on his mother's account, in whose case, 
 though he did not for an instant suspect her vu*tue, 
 still, he feared there had been some imprudence — some 
 laxity in necessary caution, to have created this long, 
 and as yet unavaihng, search for proof of her marriage. 
 He fancied it had been private, or by some minister not 
 of legal ordination — he scarcely knew what to imagine. 
 And yet, in the face of all this — driven by the fear of 
 losing ^Iinme,he implored Skaife to marry them privately. 
 
 " I have yet one more effort to make," he said, " to 
 gain her uncle's consent — if that fail me, then there T^'ill 
 only be ourselves to rely upon." 
 
 " Knowing you as I do, even in this short space of 
 time," answered Skaife, "let me implore you never to 
 lead her, however sHghtly, from the path of duty. I 
 laiow — I am sure — ^it would rise in your heart against 
 her, some day." 
 
 '^ I would not dream of it, except in an extreme case,"
 
 214 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 said Tremenhere ; " but If they take her away, what 
 will my position then be ? There she will be under the 
 eye of one — my cousin — who has the devil's cunning. 
 They will act upon her heart in every way. Poor 
 child! — what would she be in their hands ?" 
 
 " And what woidd your feelings then be, were she pri- 
 vately your wife ? How could you endure in absence 
 all she would be made to suffer ?" 
 
 " I should have a security, Skaife. They could not 
 force her; and we could but acknowledge our union, 
 even though before the time I myself should wish to do 
 so. I would be again master of the house yonder, before 
 I claimed her." 
 
 " You are too sanguine, I fear, in your hopes. I do 
 not for an instant suspect your rights ; but I do yom' 
 power of proving them. There have been too wily 
 persons at work for you ever to discover the lost clue. 
 Seven years have passed, and, were Miss DalzeU your 
 wife, could you patiently wait and labour as many more 
 — perhaps even then without success — and leave her 
 your unacknowledged wife?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" replied Tremenhere impatiently, "you 
 argue like a man — a clergyman, bound to give good 
 advice — and one who has never loved !" 
 
 He w^as quite ignorant that the other had ever been a 
 suitor of Minnie's. Skaife looked fixedly at him — 
 then, turning aside, choked down a sigh, and answered 
 with seeming calmness — 
 
 "Not as a mere clergyman by profession — bound to 
 throw in his advice on every occasion where there is an
 
 MILES TREMEKHERE. ^15 
 
 opportunity, for form's sake ; but as a sincere friend to 
 both. Tremenhere, I beseech you, think well on all 
 you do respecting Miss Dalzell. / believe her to possess 
 strong affections, and far more strength of mind than 
 you give her credit for." 
 
 " It may be so. I am sure she loves me now ; but 
 she is very young, and ignorant of the world. How 
 could she be certain of resisting the threats and impor- 
 tunities of my enemies?" 
 
 " If so weak, hoAV would she be able to pass through 
 the world, and its many devious paths? How never 
 swerve from the straight one ? You -wrong her ; beheve 
 me, she is stronger than you imagine in soul and 
 mind." 
 
 "Well, perhaps so — I hope so; but, as my wife, / 
 should ever be there to sustain her." 
 
 "Not always, perhaps. Depend upon it, a woman 
 never shows her true strength, of either virtue or for- 
 bearance, until she has to rely upon herself alone. 
 Much as I wish to obUge you, Tremenhere, my anxiety 
 to serve both, is greater. I cannot be a party to any 
 secret marriage. I know it would not be for the happi- 
 ness of either." 
 
 " Thank you, Skaife," answered the other, offering his 
 hand in all candour of heart. " I know whatever you 
 do, is conscientiously done ; so now for my last hope. 
 In peace, adieu!" And they parted.
 
 216 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Juvenal sat in the library, concocting a letter to hia 
 counsellor and friend, Burton, wlien the servant threw 
 open the door, and announced "Mr. Tremenhere." 
 Juvenal was not a very coiuageous man, more especially 
 unsupported ; the pen slid from his fingers, and he stag- 
 gered to his feet. " Stop !" he cried to the servant, but 
 the voice w^as so faint that the man did not hear it; 
 then he made a sort of rush towards the bell, but catch- 
 ing the other's calm, contemptuous smile, he stopped 
 irresolute. " Pardon me, ^Ir. Formby," said ^liles 
 quietly ; " but I think this interview were as well be- 
 tween ourselves: I see you are about summoning 
 \\^tnesses." 
 
 " Pray, sir," asked Juvenal, forcing an appearance of 
 calmness most foreign to his real state, " may I ask the 
 motive of this intrusion?" 
 
 *' One," answered the other, " which I think scarcely 
 merits so harsh a term, ^Ir. Fonnby. I came to save 
 you the trouble of answering a letter I sent, presuming 
 that, as a gentleman, you purpose doing so, even though 
 probably time has not permitted you to accomplish that 
 intention yet." Tremcnhere's indignation overcame his
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 217 
 
 prudence, when he found himself in the presence of 
 Minnie's persecutor. 
 
 '^Do you come here to insult me, sir?" asked Ju- 
 venal, amazed at this tone and manner. 
 
 " Pardon me, ^Ir. Formby ; no. I was led away by 
 an excusable surprise at yom* want of courtesy towards 
 one, with whom you were once on terms, at all events, 
 of harmony ; one, myself, who has never, by any act, 
 forfeited his right to your good opinion." 
 
 Juvenal was dreadfully emban-assed. He did not 
 like summoning an attendant to Hsten to perhaps a few 
 mipleasant truths against himself; he felt Tremenhere's 
 cause was the just one. 
 
 " Pray, su'," he said at last, " what do you call your 
 unjustifiable pursuit of my niece, !Miss Dalzell?" 
 
 " That is a recent crime in your eyes. I was alluding 
 to a prejudice against poor Miles Tremenhere, who, as 
 master of the manor-house, was permitted to style him- 
 self your acquaintance at least ; but it is not of \\Tongs — 
 of pas^ wrongs — I come to speak. I come, Mr. Formby, 
 to you, as Miss DalzeU's uncle and guardian, seeking an 
 answer to my solicited permission to address her as a 
 suitor." 
 
 " Your audacity sui-passes all I ever heard of," cried 
 Juvenal, bounding fi'om his chair, into which he had 
 dropped. " It more than surpasses all I have been told 
 you were capable of." 
 
 " By my worthy cousin, but you are wrong. I come 
 in no iusolence of tone or manner, however your disUke 
 may so construe them ; but as gentleman to gentle-
 
 218 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 man — suitor, accepted suitor by the lady, to solicit 
 her hand from her guardian." He stood calm and 
 dignified as he spoke; he had evidently set himself 
 a task in this visit — one to go through, before more de- 
 cided steps, but with little hope of success. 
 
 " My answer," said Juvenal, decidedly, though his 
 tone was querulous and weak, " is — that nothing shall 
 ever induce me to consent to Miss Dalzell's marriage 
 with yourself!" 
 
 " May I ask your reasons ?" 
 
 " I do not consider myself obliged to give any ; one, 
 however, I will accord you — the lady is engaged." 
 
 " Of that I am fully aware — irrevocably engaged." 
 
 " If you mean to yourself," cried Juvenal, his anger 
 mastering his fear, " I tell you, I defy you — I forbid it. 
 She shall never marry a nameless, unprincipled man like 
 yourself — one who could attack my friend, Marmaduke 
 Burton, in the ruffianly manner you have done." 
 
 *' Hush ! " said the other, advancing with a soft, calm 
 step ; " not a breath even against the dead. You term 
 me a nameless man ; that will be proved incorrect some 
 day soon, I hope." 
 
 Juvenal shrunk back alarmed. " Keep back ! " he 
 cried, " or I will summon aid." 
 
 *^ Do not alarm yourself, Mr. Formby," said Tre- 
 menhere, retreating contemptuously. ^' I would not 
 touch, still less harm, any one dear to, or allied to 
 Miss Dalzell — rest well assured of that; for all I have 
 done to Marmaduke Burton, I would do it again in my 
 just indignation. Did he tell you all ? Did he tell you
 
 MILES TRE^IEXHEEE. 219 
 
 of our first meeting in his apartment, when I chastised 
 the cowardly cur for his base seduction of one almost a 
 sister to me?" 
 
 " His seduction ? " exclaimed Juvenal — " your's, you 
 mean?" 
 
 ^' Mine ! " ejaculated Miles, under his breath from sur- 
 prise at this infamous charge. " Mine ! — did he tell you 
 this?" 
 
 ^' Tell me ? — yes ! and you know it to be true ; he 
 spoke of it \At\). regret, and of your infatuation in guilt, 
 in having taken the girl away to town, where she awaits 
 your coming — and it is to your base arms you would 
 take my innocent niece ! " 
 
 " 'Tis false — false as his own black heart V thundered 
 Miles, and the red blood mantled in his face, the eyes 
 shot fire. " If this alone be the cause of your just dis- 
 like to me — believing this — if I prove it false, may I 
 then hope to win Miss Dalzell at your hands?" 
 
 In his heart, Juvenal did not believe this of Miles ; 
 he cared little who had been the seducer of Mary Burns, 
 but it suited his purpose to think Miles guilty. 
 
 " You cannot prove your innoceMce," he said ; but his 
 uncertain glance shrank from the other's bold, steadfast 
 one. 
 
 "I can, and will, if that be the only barrier!" ex- 
 claimed the hopeful man. " By the girl herself, Mr. 
 Skaife, your sister Miss Dorcas Formby — by many." 
 
 " It coidd not alter my determination," stammered 
 Juvenal. " I care little about proving, or disproving it,
 
 220 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 as either way, I should never consent to your marriage 
 with my niece." 
 
 Miles's foot beat impatient time on the floor, on which 
 his gaze was fixed, with the knitted brow above it. By 
 an immense effort over himself, he at last looked up, in 
 appearance composed. " I came resolved," he said, " to 
 bear all, suffer any insult for her sake — I came to con- 
 ciliate impossible; and now, once and again, Mr. Form by, 
 I ask you to consent, or, if not that, give her her liberty; 
 give me hope, and I will make a name to win her with, 
 better than any mere birth could bring me ; but that 
 too, I feel, I shall regain, and triumph over my enemy. 
 I will win wealth — all — only give me hope ; you see I 
 imjolore now, for both our sakes." 
 
 " Hope to you — liberty to her ? " laughed Juvenal, 
 ironically, encouraged by Miles's softened tone. " I tell 
 you she shall regain her liberty as Marmaduke Burton's 
 wife — only then." 
 
 " You are resolved ? — take time to consider." Miles's 
 voice was low and emphatic. 
 
 " I need no consideration," answered the excited man ; 
 "my mind is made .-up, and my word pledged!" He 
 felt in himself that Miles was too noble for him to have 
 personal violence to dread at his hands — he spoke un- 
 dauntedly. 
 
 " Then, hear me !" said ^Miles, striding close to him, 
 and whispering hoarsely from intense feeling ; " I, too, 
 pledge you my word, that if you and all the powers of 
 earth leagued against it, Minnie Dalzell shall be mine ! 
 Now, look to it. I have nothing now to restrain my
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 221 
 
 impulse. I have offered you every honourable pro- 
 position that man could offer; she loves me — this I 
 know; and war let it be between us, and the victoiy 
 and Mnnie mine ! So, look to it ! You have driven 
 me to my ot\ti resources — do not hereafter blame either 
 her or me ! " 
 
 "I defy you! — you can do nothing!" shouted Juve- 
 nal, rushing to the bell, intending to order him out by a 
 servant. IMiles made no further reply, but, striding to 
 the door, went forth as if the meeting had been one in 
 all good fellowship. As he quitted the house, Juvenal 
 stood petrified, gazing after him. But the tall figure 
 strode on, and never once turned or hesitated. 
 
 " He cannot — he cannot approach her!" said Juvenal 
 confidently. *^ I'll Avatch — Gillett shall watch ; and next 
 week I'll take her to Lancashire. Xo one but Bm'ton 
 shall know the day, or my plans : and then we can 
 indeed defy him!" And the self-confident man sat 
 down to finish his letter to Burton, resolved to mention 
 Tremenhere's visit to no one else, unless questioned 
 about it. Days passed, and nothing had occmTcd to 
 arouse a suspicion in his mind that jMiles was at work. 
 He was not a man to suspect the imder-current of a 
 stream, smooth on the surface. He was j)lanning, and 
 another was watching. Even yet. Miles coidd not find 
 resolution to urge IVIinnie to an extreme step ; they had 
 not met since the night in Mrs. Gillett's room, but they 
 had seen each other. The asre of romance will never 
 quite expire, even in this one of matter-of-fact : while 
 Love exists, he will summon his own regal court around
 
 222 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 him, where pure hearts are in his keeping, and their 
 love-knots not gilded. Juvenal never dreamed of watch- 
 ings and wooings in those later hours of the night, when 
 even his green tea failed to keep him wakeful ; and, in 
 those hours, Tremenhere stood beneath Minnie's win- 
 dow, and a cord from a trembling hand was their tele- 
 graphic wire to speed their communications from one to 
 another. No one had seen Tremenhere since the day 
 he quitted Juvenal, who became impressed with the idea 
 that he had quitted in despair ; but the cleverer general 
 was quietly watching events from Farmer Weld's, ^^hcr 
 was too true to him to betray his concealment to any 
 one. Even Mrs. Gillett thought he had left, and 
 blessed her stars, and every thing else of lucky influ- 
 ence, which had induced him to quit, for now her mind 
 was at rest. Only Burton suspected the truth; he 
 knew Miles's disposition too well, and, consequently, 
 strongly urged Juvenal to bring ^linnie off, at a mo- 
 ment's notice, at night; and this the other resolved to 
 do. Dorcas had a long interview with Skaife, and a 
 certain want of energy in her character was gently cen- 
 sured by him, for her leaving Minnie so long without 
 even a line : "What can I do?" she asked, irresolute; 
 "my brother will not let me see her; I am waiting 
 quietly till his strange humour pass away." 
 
 " And meanwhile you leave Miss Dalzell under, I 
 must say, an unwarrantable oppression, which will prey 
 on her proud spirit, unsupported, uncomforted. She will 
 unquestionably think herself deserted by all, and the 
 consequences may be fatal.'*
 
 MILES TKEMENHEKE. 223 
 
 Skalfe would not say more, or betray Miles even by 
 a hint. Dorcas, acting upon this advice, wrote to Min- 
 nie, and Mrs. Gillett bore it — but the missive came too 
 late. The girl's heart had brooded so long in silence, 
 and supposed neglect, which, as far as Dorcas was 
 concerned, had been want of decision, and that energy 
 which might have brought Juvenal to reason, for her 
 every thought had been her niece's ; but she resigned 
 herself too quietly to her brother's prohibition of visits. 
 Dorcas said to herself, " I'll wait patiently — his humour 
 will change — Minnie knows I love her." When, how- 
 ever, we are in trouble, a little assurance of affectionate 
 watching is very comforting — silence often breeds doubt 
 — it did in Minnie's case. She was on one hand perse- 
 cuted by Juvenal and Sylvia, and unsupported on the 
 other ; 'tis then not to be wondered at, if she threw all 
 her confidence and affection on the one who so well 
 returned her love — Tremenhere ; and her aunt's letter 
 fell cold, uncared for, from her hand, and the resolution 
 to act for herself grew only stronger. While she was 
 in this state, Tremenhere was silently watching all. 
 When men are very much in love, they are very like the 
 fabled bucket, through which every drop of water 
 passed again as soon as drawn from the well. Juvenal 
 had a pet groom — his right-hand man in all things — his 
 factotum, and he certainly merited his master's confi- 
 dence ; but — he fell in love ! and a sort of Montagu and 
 Capulet affair it was with a dairymaid at, and poor relation 
 of. Farmer W^eld's. This stout wench was in the confi- 
 dence of her master, and a firm adherent of Tremenhere' s,
 
 224 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 SO she listened to the wooing of her lover, not from any 
 persuasion of the little blind god, but simply to know all 
 that was passing at Gatestone. It is not from evil pro- 
 pensities that servants always speak of their master's 
 affairs, but because persons not gifted with imagination, 
 speak everyday facts; thus groom Thomas, like the 
 bucket in question, drew all from the well of his master's 
 heart, to moisten the greedy clay of woman's curiosity ; 
 and, in return, he got chaff which blew away before the 
 winds, of service to no one. Thomas, too, was very 
 wise in his own conceit, and said to himself, " Poor gal, 
 she's so much in love with me, she can't keep nothing 
 to herself!" and he posted off to his master with 
 acounts of letters received from Tremenhere from to^vn, 
 and, while he carried off his winno wings, Sally trudged 
 home with many a good oat-cake at his expense. This 
 continued about a week; and every night, owl-like, 
 Miles crept forth, and Minnie's soft voice whispered 
 ^' Good-night, dearest I " as she let down, and drew up 
 their respective letters. 
 
 One day Sally returned from an evening walk with 
 Thomas, in a state of much agitation; she learned 
 from him that Mr. Dalby, the lawyer, was always 
 now closeted with his master, and that Thomas had 
 been sent in solemn secresy to Harrogate, to order 
 a chaise and posters for the following evening at eight ; 
 and his master had told him to be sure and say nothing 
 to anybody about it, especially not to Miss Formby, or 
 Miss Dorcas, as he was going to take off Miss Dalzell 
 to Lancashire at a minute's notice ; so all must be pre-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 225 
 
 pared, and he, Thomas, ready to go with them — that a 
 word in the house would ruin all ! 
 
 "Lor"*!" ejaculated the really astonished Sally. 
 
 " Ain't it fine ?*" said the man ; " and won't Miss be 
 taken by surprise? as master says it's very wrong of 
 her to fly in his face, as she does — in coorse, he must 
 know best what's good for her ; and nobody sha'n't know 
 it from me, I'll take precious care of that ! " and he 
 rubbed his hands, and winked knowingly. 
 
 "And don't Mss Minnie suspect, think ye?" 
 
 " Not she, nor nobody ; it's all been done main clever, 
 I can tell you ; and as the shay drives round to the front 
 door, Master and ^Ir. Dalby goes up and brings her down, 
 and we postesses two posts, that there mayn't be no 
 row in this part, 'cause she might kick up a to-do at the 
 station, and ^Ii\ Dalby goes part ways on the dicky 
 with me ! " 
 
 "Does he?" said Sally, colouring at this treachery. 
 " He's quite given up young jMiss himself, then?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! from all I hears, and I'm pretty 'cute, 
 he and the squire be all in all ; it's to ^liss Burton's 
 young miss be goin'." Tliis latter speech was uttered 
 in a wliisper. 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated Sally, in thought. 
 
 " What be 'e thinkin' on?" asked Thomas, pressing 
 the arm which reposed on liis oa\ti. " I guess you be 
 tliinkin' there won't be all this fuss when we marries," 
 etc., etc., etc. Here the amorous swain rushed off into 
 a maze of love's intricacies, little interesting to the 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 reader, or Indeed to Sully, "who took the earliest oppor- 
 tunity of finding the silken cord, and getting out 
 of it, leaving the cautious Thomas watching, in the 
 twilight, her buxom figure as she sped homewards. 
 Ked and excited she entered the farm kitchen, and, fly- 
 ing up the stairs, tapped at a door, and then bounced 
 in. Tremenhere sat there, and not less than her own, 
 was his agitation, when she unloaded her budget ; he 
 thanked his fiiithful messenger for her yigilance, and 
 after a consultation with the homely farmer, who was 
 siunmoned to the room, this latter started ofi* for Har- 
 rogate, to discover if really the chaise had been ordered, 
 as reported. With some little manoeuvring he found 
 out, beyond a doubt, that it was a fact. What he then 
 did — what they had mutually decided upon — will be 
 shortly seen. To have carried off Minnie at that late 
 hour would have been impracticable — How succeed? this 
 was their first thought, but no posters could be obtained 
 as relays ; there would be no train to assist them so ad- 
 vanced in the night, for he could not see ^linnie to con- 
 vey the intelligence until nearly midnight. To fly, and 
 be overtaken, were worse than all. Poor Miles paced 
 his room in an agony of mind nothing can paint ; until 
 that supreme moment he did not know how dear Minnie 
 was, all his energy seemed for a while crushed; he 
 clenched his hands, and the thick, knotted veins swelled 
 in his forehead, as the heaving breast sent the boiling 
 blood to his brain. He cursed his own folly, his scruples 
 for waiting so long, now aU these had disappeared ; pre- 
 sent fears, future reflections on imprudence, aU were cast
 
 MILES TKEMEXHERE. 227 
 
 aside : lie only saw Minnie separated from himself, in 
 Marmaduke's and her uncle's power, -s^dth Dalbj to back 
 them in villain v. He cared for nothinjr which mi^ht be 
 said, he forgot all his mother's wrongs, from perhaps 
 a want of strict prudence, (of error he never dreamed,) 
 which had so long upheld him in a resolution to 
 only win his wife before all the world, and by all its 
 most rigid laws of prudence and right. He sat doT\Ti 
 at last, with his watch clutched in his hand, counting 
 the weary moments till he could ^isit Gatestone. A 
 cold sweat hung on his brow, as he thought some un- 
 foreseen event, impossible to conquer, might mar all, 
 and thus he sat, in the bitter agony of a lone heart, 
 which, though it may find kind, sympathizing friends, 
 finds not one to comprehend aU its suffering — not one to 
 speak as it would. As the weary hours crept by, he 
 was worn almost to woman's weakness; for at a moment 
 when he needed aU to support himself in calmness. Far- 
 mer Weld, or perhaps Sally, would enter his room, or 
 the farmer's good dame, and by their weU-meant, but 
 quiet reasoning, nearly drive his warm temperament 
 fi'antic; it was not only one fear he had, but dozens 
 came crowdins: around him, for all was cast on one chance. 
 He could not sav — " If this fail — well, to-morrow." 
 
 No, there was no mon'ow for him if the project crum- 
 bled to earth. She would be away under coercion 
 and watchings, and these doubled, if they discovered any 
 attempt of his, even though it should prove abortive. 
 In this fearful state, he at last quitted the farm. The
 
 228 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 night air revived him, and he felt cahn as he stopped 
 under Minnie's window ; more especially when her little 
 white hand drew aside the curtain, and she looked 
 forth.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The night passed — then succeeded morning — noon — 
 and evening. Juvenal had been very busy all day. 
 Nobody but Dalby, who was closeted with him, and the 
 trusty Thomas, knew wherefore. The two first worthies 
 had it all to themselves ; for Sylvia felt piqued with her 
 recreant protege for preferring interest to love. Dorcas 
 disliked him much. It therefore was not a very sociable 
 dinner party that day at six, when the four sat down 
 together. We will leave them in their monosyllabic con- 
 versation, spiced with occasional words of secret mean- 
 ing betv/een Juvenal and his guest, and go up-stairs 
 with Mrs. Gillett, to Minnie's room, when she entered 
 with the prisoner's dinner. The latter was sitting at a 
 table; before her Avas a casket, out of which aU the 
 little treasures of her young life were taken, and spread 
 on the table, and as she eyed them, her eyes were 
 swimming in tears ; yet she looked flushed, and nervous. 
 When GiUett entered, she involuntarily sprang up, and 
 turned pale, as in terror. 
 
 ** Dear heart alive !" exclaimed the woman, "how very 
 narvous you are, poor child ! And so I told master to- 
 day, and he has promised you shall soon be at liberty ; 
 so cheer up, there's a dear." She spoke very kindly ;
 
 230 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 but ^linnie looked fixedly at her, to read if she too were 
 plotting against her. She was beginning that worst 
 pain — suspicion of all. But poor Gillett was white as 
 snow in this affair; and thus jMinnie read her clear, 
 kind look, and she stretched out her hand and clasped 
 her's; and with the act, tears rolled dowTi her cheek. 
 Juvenal, by Dalby's advice, trusted no woman. This 
 man had an instinctive dread and knowledge, that the 
 female heart is generally too kind to unite in a ^vrong 
 act, unless the possessor be unworthy her sex. Man acts 
 without thought often, and consents without reflection, 
 to a crooked deed of seeming uprightness. Perhaps 
 woman's natural love of diving into mysteries makes her 
 fathom all, and then judge for herself. 
 
 "Now, don't — there's a dear!" cried Mrs. Gillett, drop- 
 ping on one knee, and taking ^linnie's hand in both of 
 her's ; " don't cry. I hate to see you cry. Miss, indeed, 
 I do ; it always reminds me of your poor dear mamma ; 
 she used to sit and cry, so silent like, till she went after 
 the captain." 
 
 " Don't talk of her noic, Gillett— my good Gillett! " 
 whispered the girl, shuddering ; " I've been looking at 
 her picture— see, here it is." She took a miniature from 
 the table, "And — and— don't you think she looks frown- 
 ingly upon me ? I have thought so all day." 
 
 " Lauk, dear ! how can the picture change ? There 
 it is ; and it can't look sweeter, nor crosser — poor, dear 
 lady ! — she never looked cross on any one." 
 
 "Don't speak of her!" cried Minnie, in agony, drop- 
 ping her head on the woman's shoulder, and sobbing.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 231 
 
 " I told your uncle how it would be," said the other, 
 trvins: to soothe ^linnie, as she would have done a child, 
 by patting her back ; " but come, look up, it ^ill aU go 
 right soon, you'll get out; and now. Master !Miles is 
 gone (and I'm sure I'm glad of it) all Avill be as before, 
 and " 
 
 ^linnie rose hastily, and stood looking at the woman, 
 as if uncertain how to act ; her tears were burning on 
 her cheeks — her lips opened to speak. Then Miles's cau- 
 tions came over her, and she tm-ned away with a sigh. 
 ^Irs. Gillett rose, and, smoothing down her apron, began 
 laying the table ^vith perfect composure, and confidence 
 that all would soon be well. Suddenly Minnie 
 approached, and, grasping her arm, said, so wildly that 
 the other herself stood transfixed, " Remember, Gillett 
 — my good Gillett — whatever may happen, they drove 
 me to it. Do not let them say all unchecked against 
 me; — remind them how they locked me up — remind 
 Aimt Dorcas how she left me, and did not insist upon 
 seeing, to comfort me — remind them, that I only met 
 ISIr. Tremenhere once, wilfully, and that he had kno^vn 
 me as a little child — do not forget all this, GiUett, but 
 remind them often of it." And she burst into a passion- 
 ate flood of tears, and turned away. 
 
 "Poor darling!" said the housekeeper, "they have 
 been cruel ; but it was not theu faults — Master listens 
 to them as he shouldn't listen to — Come, eat a bit of 
 cliicken— just a bit : I watched it cooking for you my- 
 self—do, there's a dear I" But all her coaxing was vain. 
 " I'll come and sleep on the sofa in her room to-night,"
 
 232 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 said Gillett to herself; "she's low and narvous, poor 
 child!" 
 
 "What's that?" cried Mnnie, stopping in her hurried 
 walk round the room. 
 
 " Only the time, dear, striking ; it's half-past six !" 
 
 "The old hall clock!" whispered the girl— "my mo- 
 ther's clock — I wonder if I shall ever hear it again after 
 to-night! I hope I may — I hope to Heaven I may!" 
 And she slid gently on her knees, and raised her hands 
 upwards. Gillett stood looking on in amazement, not 
 unmixed with deep emotion. 
 
 "Miss Minnie, dear, shall I stay, or go?" she whis- 
 pered, touching her arm. Minnie started up. 
 
 " Go," she said, hurriedly, looking towards the door — 
 "go, and don't tell any one I have been agitated, or 
 crying. Let me be quiet a short time, and — and — 
 Heaven bless you, dear Gillett, for all yom' kindness — 
 I never shall forget it !" 
 
 She threw her arms round the woman's neck, and 
 kindly embraced her ; then, opening the door, said hur- 
 riedly, "Now, go, dear Gillett, and leave me quiet 
 awhile." 
 
 The simple woman, without the slightest suspicion of 
 harm, quitted the room gently, and locked the door. 
 Minnie stood one moment, with clasped hands, listening, 
 then turning round, she seemed, by a great effort, to 
 shake off all lethargy and doubt. Reverentially placing 
 her mother's picture, and a gift of aunt Dorcas's, in her 
 bosom, she drew from her pocket a key, and with hasty 
 hands threw over her shoulders a shawl ; then, putting
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 233 
 
 on her bonnet, she stood one instant in deep thought — 
 it was the final thou2:ht — one of war between reso- 
 lution and doubt. 
 
 Near the old stile, in the holly-field, stood Miles Tre- 
 menhere. He was no longer the wild, excited man ; a 
 cold, stem resolution had replaced all other emotions. 
 He stood there, resolved to do, even now, by force, 
 should other means fail. It had been in vain he toiled 
 with his brain to arrange things otherwise; all had 
 seemed to go against him, trains, posters — all, and here 
 he was, expecting IMinnie at seven, kno^^^g that at eight 
 she would leave with her uncle, if his scheme failed. 
 
 " But it ^^ill not," he said between his teeth ; " she 
 has the key; they will be at table, and she can better 
 escape do^^Tl the stau's now than earher. Should she not 
 come, I ^viU go up boldly and tear her from theii' power!" 
 
 He was desperate enough then to have attempted it. 
 His face was cold and damp with the dew of suspense, his 
 eyes strained with watching the way she should come ; 
 he had become so acutely wakefid, that he felt he could 
 have heard her ciy for help even there ; and as moment 
 after moment passed, and the heavy church clock in the 
 distance chimed *a quarter past seven, he groaned aloud. 
 " Only three quarters more, and they will be there for 
 her. Minnie I oh, Minnie ! if they tore you from me 
 now, I should smile on any deed to recover voul She 
 does not come I" 
 
 He stood like a statue, only watching the way 
 through the shrubbery-. "I will go up and claim her," 
 he cried at last, in desperation. " Hush ! were those
 
 234 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 wheels? theirs, to complete their good work. Hush!" 
 and he listened, while his heart audibly beat. A hand 
 was on his arm, and a voice, weak and thrilling like 
 a nestling bird's, whispered, " Miles, I am here— let us go 
 — 'tis late — I have been seen." With the first word and 
 touch, a cry burst from him, and Minnie was in an em- 
 brace of iron. What force might tear her from it? 
 Outside the hedge a chaise was waiting, and to tliis he 
 almost carried the nearly fainting girl; they had not far to 
 drive, but a few short miles at the pace of their good 
 quadrupeds ; and before the clock struck eight, Tremen- 
 here's heart beat wildly with rejoicing, beside his run- 
 away bride, flying at the rate of Gretna steam-power, 
 and an express train, to the north. Eight o'clock struck, 
 and with the last stroke wheels were heard creaking 
 on the gravel at Gatestone. 
 
 " Now, Dalby," said Juvenal, " the time's come, mind 
 you are resolute; no woman's work. I daresay she'll 
 make a fuss, but it is for her ultimate benefit, and be- 
 sides I will not have my authority questioned." Sylvia 
 and Dorcas had retired, quite ignorant of all. " Tell 
 Mrs. GiUett to come here, and accompany us to Mss 
 Dalzell's room," said Juvenal to the footman. 
 
 " I don't think Miss Dalzell has returned," said the 
 man, innocently. " She only went out a few minutes 
 since!" Dalby started, but Juvenal was quite com- 
 posed. " You must be mistaken, Willis," he said. 
 " Miss Dalzell is in her room. You probably saw one 
 of the other ladies. Send IVIrs. Gillett at once." 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! no, sir," responded the man. " I
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 235 
 
 couldn't mistake my mlssisses for Miss Minnie ; she 
 passed ms in tlie hall with her bonnet on, and said in 
 her kind way, * How d'ye do, Willis ?' and I was so glad 
 to see her about again, that I watched her through the 
 gardens." 
 
 "Why the deuce didn't you mention this before?" 
 exclaimed Dalby, alarmed. He was the first to recover 
 liimself. 
 
 " Well, sir," answered the man, trembling, " I thought 
 master knew it. 'Twasn't for me to speak." 
 
 " There's something wrong," cried Juvenal, tumbling 
 over Dalby's chair in his hurried rush towards the door. 
 The other was half-way up-stau's, muttering a deep oath. 
 If Minnie were lost to his master ISIarmaduke Burton, 
 then woidd he be doubly a fool, having lost a good 
 chance with the girl, backed as he had been by Sylvia ; 
 and of course he should be disgraced TNath the other. 
 
 By this time the house was alarmed — Dorcas stood 
 very pale, clasping her cold hands together — Sylvia 
 wouldn't beheve it possible — and poor ]\Irs. Gillett was 
 lamenting loudly, as Juvenal with trembhng hands 
 opened the door. There stiU was hope, for the door 
 was well locked. AU rushed in in a body : every thing was 
 as we have seen it, but Minnie — the dinner untouched. 
 How had she escaped ? Not by the \^^ndow, surely ? 
 No, that could not be. Willis had met her in the pas- 
 sage, and 'twas this unexpected meeting which had 
 made her go round by the gardens instead of the shrub- 
 bery. This was the only hour in Avhich INIiles saw a 
 chance for her escape, wliile all were at table. 'Twas.
 
 236 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 a bold stroke ; but it had succeeded, like many a daring 
 deed. 
 
 " Gillett, you know something of this ! " cried Sylvia, 
 turning towards her. Dorcas couldn't speak ; she was 
 crying bitterly; she guessed the truth. "No, as I 
 hopes for marcy !" exclaimed the housekeeper; "I know 
 nothing of it. I brought up her dinner, which you see, 
 and she fell a-crying, and seemed quite down-hearted. 
 Oh, dear! oh, dear! what was it she said, now?" and 
 she tapped her forehead ; " she told me to remind you 
 all of such a many things, and to think I should forget 
 every one on 'em !" 
 
 " Where could she have found a key?" asked Juvenal, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " I don''t know, I'm sure," answered Gillett, " here's 
 mine," and she turned the lock with it. Suddenly it 
 flashed across her mind, the confusion of keys in her 
 room the night Juvenal came down, and ]\Iinnie and 
 Miles were concealed. She said nothing ; but felt per- 
 fectly convinced that one of them had taken a key away. 
 At last, some one suggested that she was perhaps in the 
 gardens. No one save Dorcas guessed the whole truth. 
 Juvenal and Sylvia felt certain she woidd be found. 
 Dalby thought so, too. Where could she go ? Gillett 
 was too much puzzled to think. Only Dorcas knew in 
 her heart, that Miles was the instigator and partner of 
 her flight. All her thoughts now were, not to find her ; 
 she felt that with a man so determined to organize, she 
 was off and gone, but to secure her happiness, and, if 
 possible, bring all to a happy termination and reconcilia-
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 237 
 
 tion. Gardens were searched — the house — grounds — 
 all; but not a trace remained — then the village. At 
 last a lad was found who had stood gaping at the chaise 
 and posters in the lane, till the gentleman and lady 
 stepped in and " driv away ;" so there was no longer 
 room to doubt. Dalby, hot with rage and disappoint- 
 ment, traced them to the railroad, three miles distant, 
 whence he and Juvenal started off in pursuit. 
 
 The chaise which was to have carried off their victim, 
 helped them on their errand — a rather galling reflection ; 
 for both Tremenhere and his bride were away, and away, 
 miles before them ; they had neither of them time to re- 
 flect on plans, on the future, which lay before them 
 coiled like a serpent, and perhaps as much to be dreaded. 
 On they flew, and, as the train stopped at each station, 
 Minnie's heart sunk within her, dreading somehow to see 
 her uncle there, awaiting her ; and in agony, she clung to 
 IVIiles, whose gentlest tones soothed the fan* tiling beside 
 him, with her already sorro^dng, but not repenting 
 head, hidden in his bosom. At length the term of their 
 journey drew to a close, they passed the Border — with 
 every moment now, her terror, and liis anxiety, grcAv 
 apace. She could scarcely articulate; and, when a 
 sudden whistle or stoppage occurred, a scream involun- 
 tarily burst from her very sold ; for the lip was but the 
 channel of utterance. But the Border was passed — the 
 train and its many alarms was left behind their flying 
 steps, and they stood side by side in a small room, 
 awaiting the professional oflficiator in such cases — clergy- 
 man, he cannot be called. Minnie looked round, and
 
 238 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 felt how little idea of so sacred a tie as marriage, that 
 little, low room gave you. She turned timidly to Miles, 
 who was gazing impatiently at the door — she drew near 
 him. 
 
 "Miles — dearest," she whispered, laying a hand on 
 his arm, "shall we not be married again? This place 
 carries no hallowing thoughts to the heart." 
 
 " My Minnie, you have echoed my intention — the 
 moment we arrive in town, we will doubly cement the 
 sweet bonds of this day's forging!" 
 
 Here the officiator entered. He was a serious, mat- 
 ter-of-fact-looking man; he put on his spectacles, and 
 scanned them closely; then, giving a sort of grunt, in- 
 timating some sort of feeling best understood by him- 
 self, he commenced — 
 
 "Stop!" cried Tremenhere; "I have forgotten a 
 ring!" 
 
 Minnie was trembling violently — every thing startled 
 her. He saw this, and, hastily glancing at his finger, 
 said, "In such a cause, this will but sanctify it!" and 
 he drew off the circle of gold. " Minnie," he whispered, 
 " this was my mother's." 
 
 " Oh, not that !" she cried, shrinking back. " It has 
 been so ill-fated!" 
 
 " You'd better not delay," suggested the man ; " folks 
 travel quickly now-a-days, and I have huzness, too." 
 
 '^ It will unite us the closer in our triumph over her 
 enemies and ours, my Minnie." 
 
 She said no more, but a cold thrill passed over her as 
 the ring made her Tremenhere's wife.
 
 3IILES TREMEXHEEE. 239 
 
 " Now ye're right," said the man, with a grim smile, 
 which he intended to be jocular; " an' tak'care on her, 
 for she's a sonsy leddy — puir young thing !" 
 
 "Minnie — my ^vife — my child — my all I" whispered 
 iNliles, drawing her on his heart. " Now we may defy 
 them all, and fate — my oAvn wife I" Even as he spoke, 
 the heart at that moment chilled : another might have 
 felt glad in the romance of their love and flight, Tre- 
 menhere choked down a sigh. He would have given 
 all he ever hoped to gain, to be standing with Minnie in 
 chm'ch, his hcensed T^ife by friends, relatives, and, above 
 all, the iTiles of prudence and right. It was not his 
 fault, these stem ideas; cu'cumstances had made him 
 what he was. 
 
 They are once more in the train, and speeding away 
 from the Border, towards town. Some twenty miles 
 on their way, they stopped at a station where a do^vn 
 train was waiting. ^linnie drew hastily back, and 
 turned very pale : " My uncle," she whispered, " there 
 — and Mr. Dalbyl" She had many a dark storm to 
 encounter before they met again.
 
 240 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 Tremenhere had in nothing deceived Minnie. He 
 told her that in marrying him she wedded herself to an 
 artist's struggles for fame, wealth, and position : this 
 home was all he had to offer her, cheered by his devoted 
 love. He was considered as one rising rapidly in the 
 profession, but he had much still to achieve before 
 prosperity would crown his efforts. Hitherto, he had 
 saved every possible farthing for the great object of his 
 thoughts ; now, he would have to toil with double 
 energy, not to lose sight of that, and support his wife 
 also. But Minnie was so simple in her tastes, so gene- 
 rous, thoughtfid, and loving, that it seemed to her 
 another Paradise, their quiet little cottage in the out- 
 skirts of town, which Miles had succeeded in discover- 
 ing, with a studio attached — or rather, a large room, 
 which he converted into one. True, the gardens were 
 not large and beautifid, hke those at Gatestone; but 
 then their very smallness made every flower as a friend. 
 Each morning there was the matinal visit to be paid, 
 the fresh buds on some favourite tree to be counted; 
 and as she bent over their stem, a loving eye looked 
 down upon her, a gentle hand clasped her small,
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 241 
 
 snowy neck, and then she looked up smiling, and the 
 two went in to work. Her's was not very laborious, 
 yet she fancied it absolutely necessary to the perform- 
 ance of his task: she mixed his colours, sorted his 
 pencils, but, more frequently, leaned over his shoidder, 
 with one tiny hand buried among his raven curls, wliich 
 clustered, thick and glossy, in the nape of his neck. 
 Thus she would watch the progress of his "Aurora 
 chasing the Shades of Night;" which Aurora was a 
 fiffure of ano-el lio^htness, w^ith outstretched arms and 
 hands, skimming tlu'ough the air, her long, wavy hair 
 flying, in the freshness of the morning breeze, like a 
 cloud behind her ; whilst before her fled Shades, clad in 
 dark robes spangled with fading stars, and supported 
 upon the clouds. It was a beautiful group, which ^liles 
 was painting to order. We have said ^linnie had most 
 lovely hair, like floss silk ; when she unwove the plaits, 
 it fell almost to her heel, not heavily, but like a vapour ; 
 you passed yom' hand through it, and it separated and 
 floated in the air like a gossamer web. It was this 
 magnificent mass wliich Miles had copied for his Aurora. 
 He loved to look upon it ; to a painter's eye it had an 
 appearance of something spiritual. In vain he endea^ 
 voured to do it justice ; for more than once, in despair, 
 he had set aU aside, and clasping his little wife in his 
 arms, exclaimed, as he embraced it and her, " My child, 
 I never shall accomplish this ! Surely some sprite wove 
 this veil, and will not allow me to represent it with my 
 poor pencil ! Not the best artiste en cheveux ever known, 
 shall ever distort these fair locks with his \'ile grasp. I 
 
 VOL. L a
 
 242 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 am almost jealous when the air plays with them ! !Min- 
 nie, 'tis dreadful to suffer from jealousy ! I hope you 
 never may be a mother, darling ; I shoidd almost hate 
 my own child, lying on your breast !" 
 
 "Hush, Miles!" she whispered, laying her hand on 
 his mouth. " Do not speak even of jealousy ; 'tis so 
 false a passion, ever leading astray, ever leading us down 
 some crooked path." 
 
 " Why, my pretty reasoner, what do you know of 
 jealousy?" and he drew her close to his side, and smiled 
 up in her face. 
 
 " Oh ! I guess it, dear, from all I have read of its 
 influence, it leads to so much error and bitterness; 
 
 and and 1 will confess, dear Miles," she added, 
 
 looking down, "I felt a pang of it myself, when you 
 were absent the other day, in Sussex. I was won- 
 dering all day with whom you were walking, talking, 
 amusing yourself; and whether you once, even, saw my 
 spirit flit before your path ! " 
 
 Miles looked down thoughtfully, doubtingly, a mo- 
 ment, then, raising his eyes, said carelessly — "You know, 
 darhng, why I went to Uplands Park. Lord Eandolph 
 Gray wished me to come, whilst he was down there, to 
 choose a good Hght for my 'Am'ora' when I have com- 
 pleted it, and also to make some other artistic arrange- 
 ments, which cannot but prove of great service to me. 
 My Minnie knows I am only an artist, obliged to follow 
 as a profession what was once only pleasure." 
 
 " Well, are we not happy, Miles? — / am — oh ! very — 
 very happy — perfectly so, since my dear aunt Dorcas has
 
 MILES TRE3IENHEIIE. 243 
 
 been to see her naughty niece ; and, now, tell me all the 
 persons you met at Uplands, for I knew there were 
 several there, and you have always found something else 
 to talk of, when I asked you." 
 
 " Oh ! I paid little attention, I was so much 
 engaged ; there were his aunt, and several ladies, 
 and " 
 
 ^*I wonder w^here Dora is?" cried Minnie, hastily, 
 like a child flying from one subject to another. *^ She 
 has not answered my letter, and I wTote as soon as w^e 
 were married in town, and that is two months since — 
 'tis very unkind!" 
 
 " What an old wife you are, Minnie ! " he said fond- 
 ly, not paying attention to the other portion of her 
 speech. 
 
 *' Never mind that. Miles ; let us talk of Dora. Do 
 you know, I was half jealous of her ; I thought you ad- 
 mired her; I thought two such could not meet without 
 loving." 
 
 Despite his self-control, he coloured slightly, and 
 merely ejaculated, '' Pshaw !" 
 
 " I do declare. Miles, you are colouring ! Well, I 
 fancied my aunt Lady Ripley, and Dora, were perhaps 
 at Uplands." 
 
 " What could make you think so ? " he asked, sKghtly 
 embarrassed. 
 
 "Because I know my aunt wishes Dora to marry 
 Lord Randolph Gray ; and, as so many ladies were there, 
 I thought it probable she might be one." 
 . "Silly child! — silly little girl!" he said, evasively.
 
 244 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " There — get such foolish thoughts out of your head, 
 and give me one more sitting, darling, for this Aurorean 
 veil of hair." 
 
 All else was cast aside when Miles had to be pleased. 
 She forgot Dora, and every thing, and stood before him 
 with her hair streaming back from her fair, innocent 
 face — that face was Miles's <2:reatest torment in his task. 
 It was the very one he could have desired for his pic- 
 ture; but for worlds he would not have laid it upon 
 canvass for indiiferent eyes to look upon ; in vain model 
 after model sat to him — some were very lovely ; and 
 when he thought his wish accomplished, and but a few 
 finishing touches were required to complete the face — 
 nothing but the working up, wlien no model was of fur- 
 ther use, involuntarily — his pencil, faithful to the memory 
 of his heart, moulded the unfinished face with an imper- 
 fect likeness of his beloved wife ; and though he sighed 
 whilst obliterating it, yet nothing would have tempted 
 him to expose that to a stranger's gaze ; perhaps, a 
 questioning one, which would seek the original of so 
 perfect a creation. No, she was his — only his. Could 
 he have insisted upon such a thing without appearing 
 absurd, she should never have quitted the house, unless 
 closely veiled — his was true, all-absorbing affection. 
 There was no selfish vaiw-glory in it; that feeling 
 which makes a man parade the object of his idolatry 
 before the multitude, to delight his ears with the hum 
 of praise her beauty might elicit, and from the pedestal 
 of his exclusive right, look down in pitying compassion 
 on the multitude doing homage to her charms — nothing
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 245 
 
 of this could move Tremenhere, except to feel contempt. 
 His was too noble a natm'e to be gratified by the injury 
 of others — he only asked to be left in peace and seclu- 
 sion with this fair being he had so hardly won. He, for 
 the cold heartless world, to toil for her, and with it — she, 
 to solace his hours of peace and most unworldly love. 
 We will leave them awhile, and step back to Gatestone. 
 At the moment her successful flight was no longer a 
 mystery — the only one was, how she had escaped — there 
 w^ere not wantinix those to instil into Juvenal's mind an 
 idea, that he had an enemy on his hearth ; and poor 
 Dorcas was the suspected person. She had favoured 
 Minnie's escape, and not all her assurances to the con- 
 trary, could remove the impression ; and, when she ex- 
 pressed her determination to visit Minnie, not the 
 slightest shadow of doubt remained. Little-minded 
 persons must have an imaginary trouble, if they do not 
 possess a real one — they could not exist without some- 
 thing to woiTy them to death. Dorcas was the living 
 source of sorrow to Juvenal and Sylvia; and, had she not 
 been patience itself, they would assuredly have di^iven her 
 into her grave by their unceasing fire of innuendoes, when 
 they actually abstained from open accusations. How- 
 ever, she bore all placidly, and finally started, to the 
 deep indignation of both, for town, accompanied by Mr. 
 Skaife. This latter had become perfectly reconciled to 
 Minnie's marriage. His love had not been that of a 
 Tremenhere, but a quiet, placid affection, much more 
 like a hothouse friendship, than actual love, riper than an 
 ordinary out-of-door feeling of that genus. The moment 
 he heard that she was positively a wife, he choked down
 
 246 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 a little sigh, and from that instant she became the wife of 
 one he called friend — only a being to be much respected, 
 and served in every way in his power ; and it was strange 
 that Tremenhere, with all his jealousy, so thoroughly 
 read and appreciated the othei''s character, that not the 
 sliorhtest feehno: of that kind crossed his mind, on his 
 and Minnie's account. They met as brother and sister 
 might have done; and Tremenhere looked on and 
 smiled, as Skaife clasped her hands — an action he could 
 not have borne from any other ; for he had the purest, 
 warmest, Spanish blood in his veins, not one drop of his 
 father's calm English — he was all his mother's child. 
 
 It would be impossible to give an adequate idea of the 
 fury of Juvenal, when he discovered that he and Dalby 
 had arrived just an hour too late to prevent Minnie's 
 marriage. Dalby was bitterness itself, and in every way 
 fostered the feeling against the delinquents. Thus he 
 made himself agreeable to Juvenal, and secured a foot- 
 ing at Gatestone ; as he felt rather uncertain how Mar- 
 maduke Burton mij^ht receive him, on his beins; made 
 acquainted with the discomfiture of himself and par- 
 tisans, and the good generalship of Tremenhere. But 
 Burton could not afford to lose such a man as Dalby ; 
 though he blamed him in no measured terms, still, in 
 his heart, he knew how difficult it was to daunt or 
 overthrow his cousin. He accused himself more than 
 any one else, for leaving the spot, and thus losing so 
 great a battery against the enemy as his own cunning 
 would have proved. Now this battle was lost, there 
 only remained one thing to him — revenge ; and tliis 
 pale-faced spectre haunted his every thought.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 247 
 
 Great was Minnie's joy when she flung herself into her 
 dear aunt's amis ; all former annoyance was forgotten ; 
 she only saw one she loved as a mother, one whose face 
 was wanting to cheer her home and hearth. As soon 
 as Tremenhere could so arrange it after their return, 
 they had been again, and more sacredly, married than 
 in their Border marriage. Nothing was wanting, then, 
 to Minnie's happiness, but forgiveness ; and this Dorcas 
 promised to lose no opportunity of obtaining. How 
 happy the young wife was, in showing all the mysteries 
 of her home, her excellence as a housekeeper, her gar- 
 den, her fruits, all, to her aunt ! Poor child ! she was 
 so inexperienced in all, yet withal so very anxious to 
 save every possible expense, that the aim of IMiles's life 
 might not be lost sight of. " Only look, dear aunty ! " 
 she cried, raising in her pretty fingers the leaves which 
 partially concealed some mellowing peach on the sunny 
 wall, — *' did you ever see such beauties ? We had 
 none so fine at Gatestone!" Poor child, once morel 
 there was nothing good or fair but where Miles existed 
 — notliing could prosper unless beneath his eye. Alas, 
 for the days of sorrow! when the woman shall look 
 back, after her weary pilgrunage thi'ough life, and 
 remember the one sunny spot of childhood, where 
 winter never came — all the year one summer in her 
 memory, the fruits and flowers in the gardens of which, 
 were riper, and blossomed fairer, than any elsewhere ! 
 It is the heart — the heart — the heart beneath wliich 
 they grow ! — the heart all lightness and purity I 
 
 Skaife, we have seen, accompanied Dorcas to town ;
 
 248 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 and after the first lecture on her imprudence had, as a 
 matter of course, been duly delivered by the latter, all 
 settled down in perfect happiness ; for even Skaife 
 almost ceased to remember that, in the man before him, 
 he saw a successful rival. Poor Dorcas would fain have 
 remained longer than the fortnight she had awarded 
 herself; but she received such fulminating letters from 
 home, that the thing was impracticable ; and so she 
 left the abode of love and peace, perfectly assured of the 
 continuance of Minnie's happiness, and promising to do 
 all in her power to effect a reconciliation. This would 
 have been easily accomplished, if she had only had 
 Juvenal and Sylvia to deal with ; but, unliappily, Dalby 
 and the latter were friends again, and the former had 
 Marmadukc Burton to back him up in aU wickedness ; 
 though now, had the uncle and aunt reasoned — " How 
 could the affair be improved by anger?" they might 
 have acted differently. But there are some persons 
 who never reason : decidedly, these were of that class. 
 
 We will now take our readers to Uplands Park, the 
 day of Miles's expected visit there by Lord Randolph 
 Gray. Business in town had detained this gentleman 
 from that rendezvous of fashionable men, in the month 
 of August — Scotland. It was near the end of the fol- 
 lowing month, and a select few were assembled for 
 shooting, and its accompaniment of flirtation, in a coun- 
 try-house, where there exists so much more laissez aller 
 than in town. Lord Randolph's aunt, the Countess of 
 Lysson, took the head of the lady department at her 
 bachelor nephew's. A word about this nephew : He was
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 249 
 
 one whose mould had assui'edly not been broken when 
 he was bom — there were hundreds hke hhn; he was 
 one in a comet of comfits, veiy nice, but very insipid — 
 the fiUing up of the workl between the good and bad. 
 A good-natured man, in short, with plenty of money. 
 Some one persuaded him that he was, or ought to be, 
 passionately fond of pictm-es, because he was of yacht- 
 inor and other fashionable amusements. Now, what 
 possible connection could exist between these two, ex- 
 cept as far as mere fashion went, it would be difficult 
 to define. However, he was veiy fond of handsome 
 women, and these are more or less the subject of the 
 pencil ; consequently, on his return to town from Italy, 
 where he had seen much of Miles in society, as a rising 
 artist, he sought him out, and engaged his pencil on 
 " The Aurora," before alluded to. Besides, he had hked 
 the man, and discovering that even at home, men of 
 talent were warmly received into society, he followed 
 the reading of others (for he possessed not one single 
 original idea,) and invited him cordially to his house. 
 But the visit to Uplands was one more of business than 
 pleasure, else ^liles would never have quitted Minnie. 
 No one was aware, of his mere acquaintances, that Tre- 
 menhere was a man who had lost the position he had lost ; 
 he was kno\^^l as a man of good family and cultivated 
 understanding — no one inquu'ed beyond : married or 
 single — who cared to inquire? He was an agreeable com- 
 panion, and therefore many sought his society. When he 
 arrived at Uplands, the first person almost he met was 
 Lady Dora, who was there with her mother. Not all
 
 250 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 her self-possession checked the deep glow which over- 
 spread her cheek. It was half the suddenness of the 
 meeting, and half indignant pride, that he should have 
 degraded her cousin, as she deemed it, to the level of a 
 mere artist's wife. They met in the drawing-room be- 
 fore dinner. There were only two or three persons 
 yet assembled, and these were dowagers, sitting cosily 
 beside a cheering wood-blaze, before the lamps were 
 lighted. It was a large comfortable room, and already 
 the rich crimson curtains fell before the windows. It 
 had been a chilly, rainy day ; and Lady Dora, having 
 passed some hours of it in the billiard-room, now sat 
 before one of Erard's most brilliant pianos, playing de- 
 sultory strains, as they occurred to her memory. Lady 
 Lysson had not yet appeared, nor Lady Dora's mother. 
 Tremenhere stood an instant in the doorway ; he had 
 been sitting in Lord Eandolph's room with him, ever 
 since quitting the one assigned to him, after changing 
 his dress for dinner. His arrival had occurred, as those 
 things do in country houses — a matter of no moment, or 
 object of inquiry to any one. He crane — sat in his 
 host's room — dressed for dinner — descended to the draw- 
 ing-room — and, vmtil Lady Dora looked up from her own 
 thoughts, and saw him at the door, no one knew an addi- 
 tion had taken place to the circle assembled at Uplands. 
 As he entered, the two dowagers raised their eyes care- 
 lessly, and glanced over him. He was some gentleman, 
 or he wouldn't be there, — one of the common moidd, 
 doubtless. People always take this for granted, till the 
 lion slips out of the ass's skin in wliich their imagina-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 251 
 
 tions clothe him, and shows his fangs and claws ; then 
 folks either put themselves into a position of defence, or 
 try to cut his claws ; but this latter is rather a dange- 
 rous game, unless, like the pictm'e of a celebrated artist, 
 Monsieur Camille Eoqueplan, the lion become ^Umiou- 
 reux^^ and then any thing may be done with him by the 
 one loved hand. 
 
 AYe dic^ress — ^liles was an ass in the dowao^ers' eves 
 — one of their host's mould ; so they glanced him over, 
 and, sotto voce, continued their perforations in some- 
 body's character. 
 
 Lady Dora started, and coloured — then her fingers 
 still strolled over the keys like a breeze among flowers, 
 calling forth sweet odours — or a child in a garden, 
 culling a single leaf of different buds, and scattering 
 them carelessly about; for she only played a strain 
 here and there, notliincj throu^ih. 
 
 "I hope Lady Dora is well?" asked !Miles, gently, as 
 he stood beside her. 
 
 " Quite so, I thank you," she coldly replied, bowing 
 over her hands, v»'hich did not cease. 
 
 Though ^liles had keenly felt, \vithout expressing it 
 to Minnie, her cousin's neglect, still he forbore speaking 
 of it to her, lest it might aggravate her pain, he was so 
 watchful over this darling mfe of his ; still he fancied 
 some engagement, fashionable indolence, or absence 
 from home, occasioned it; any tiling but the tmth — wilful 
 slight. He was therefore not prepared for her recep- 
 tion of him ; he stood a moment silent, looking down on 
 the flying fingers, and many thoughts creeping over his
 
 252 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 mind, scarcely leaving a trace, but faintly shadowing an 
 idea, that this girl had loved him, her change of man- 
 ner was so extraordinary since their parting in Italy. 
 "I was not aware," he said at last, in commonplace 
 phraseology, " that I should have the pleasure of meet- 
 ing with your ladyship here." He was working with 
 homely tools to get at a great truth — this girl's senti- 
 ments — they puzzled him ; had she replied in a natural 
 manner, he would have sought no farther, convinced that 
 his impression had been erroneous. As it was, she 
 answered with stern pride — 
 
 " It must be a matter of perfect indifference to Mr. 
 Tremenhere;" and, ceasing her playing, she took her 
 gloves, fan, and handkerchief from the piano, and with- 
 out condescending to award him one look, walked 
 majestically to the other end of the large room, and, 
 seating herself on an ottoman by the fire, commenced 
 conversinor with the dowasrers. Miles leaned an instant 
 against the piano. A smile, half of contempt, and half 
 triumph, played over his proud lip. Servants entered 
 at that instant with lights. Quietly seating himself on 
 the music-stool, he took up a book from a side table, 
 and turned its leaves ; but his thoughts flew off from 
 pride and vexation to Minnie, his own quiet Httle cottage 
 fireside, and that fairy wife, singing like a joyous bird, 
 to soothe his weary spirit, when worn by a day's ha- 
 rassing. "Minnie — my own Minnie !" he whispered to 
 his heart, and the dark flashing eyes of the previous 
 moment, melted with the loving thoughts of her presence, 
 and he forgot Lady Dora, all, save herself.
 
 MILES TRE3IEXnErtE. 253 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 With the lights a few stragglers came dropping in, — 
 one of the first was Lady Lysson. This lady had much 
 more of the foreio-ner than Eno-Hsh woman, in both mind 
 and manner, having lived many years abroad, where in 
 fact she had kno^vn Tremenhere, and was an ardent 
 admirer of his genius. She had a hasty, but most grace- 
 ful manner ; youthfulness of movement, not at all unbe- 
 coming, though no longer young ; at every step, every 
 gesture, you involuntarily said to yourself, " What a 
 very charming girl she must have been ! " though really 
 charming still, even at forty-five. Not the least attrac- 
 tion was a sweet, half-lisping, slightly foreign accent, 
 perfectly natural ; you felt that if she talked in her sleep, 
 or walked, or laughed, she would do aU just as in her 
 waking moments. She now flitted into the room, and, 
 spying a desolate-looking being on the music-stool, trip- 
 ped towards it, and, hah" dazzled by the hghts, shading 
 her eyes with her hand, cried, " Who are you ? what 
 unfortunate Robinson Crusoe have we on this isle? 
 what, Mr. Tremenhere ! this is indeed an agreeable sur- 
 prise; since when are you our guest?" 
 
 " Since the last three hours, Lady Lysson," he replied
 
 254 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 cordially taking the proffered hand, and the heart was in 
 the clasp, to thank the Samaritan who had not passed 
 him by. Lady Dora coloured unseen, but it was shame; 
 her own soul blushed for the weakness of its mould of 
 clay, as she witnessed the generosity of another, and yet 
 it was not all pride which dictated her conduct— an 
 unknown, unacknowledged feeling prompted it. 
 
 " And you are going to remain with us a week — I 
 mean, all the time my reign lasts here *? " asked Lady 
 Lysson, gliding to a sofa beside his stool. " There, sit 
 down, Mr. Tremenhere, and let us have a little pleasant 
 vision of bygone days in sweet Florence — and how goes 
 on your painting ? Are you very successful in town ? 
 You deserve to be so ; and — and — by the way, some old 
 fi-iends of your's are staying here— have you seen them? 
 Lady Ripley and her daughter. Is not that Lady Dora 
 by the fire % Lady Dora, my dear," and she gracefully 
 waved her little hand — raising her voice at the same 
 time, " come here; here's an old friend of yours, whom 
 you will be delighted to meet again. For shame — for 
 shame!" she added, tapping his arm with her fan, "to 
 bring our horrible English coldness into my nephew's 
 house. I, who am trying to banish it for ever from our 
 else unparalleled homes, and make all cordial in meet- 
 ino- — regretful in parting — and not afraid to express 
 these feelings, as in the sweet South ; and here I find 
 one of my pet proteges crumbling my efforts to dust, and 
 sittino- cold and English on his stool of formality, at 
 the extreme end of my own com't, and kind friends in
 
 MILES TKEMEXHEEE, 255 
 
 the distance — for sliame I Dear Lady Dora, help me to 
 scold this refractory subject." 
 
 Lady Dora was compelled to obey the summons ; to 
 do otherwise, would be to betray herself. She rose ; 
 but the proud lip was compressed — the nostril dilated 
 with annoyance. " I have spoken to !Mr. Tremenhere," 
 she said, in as indifferent a tone as she coidd command, 
 and she seated herself on the sofa beside Lady Lysson. 
 Tremenhere bowed — he coidd scarcely conceal a smile 
 of satisfaction. Every triumph to hunself, was one to 
 his little wife — his ever present magnet. " I have had 
 the pleasure of standing beside Lady Dora Yaughan's 
 music-stool while she di'ew forth some of the sweet 
 strains she so well commands at vdli" he said. Lady 
 Dora fixed her haughty eyes upon liim undauntedly, to 
 read the epigram, if one were intended — but he looked 
 upon her -v^-ith a cordial, friendly smile. " He is no 
 fool," she thought — " is he impervious to every attack ? 
 I hate this man," she could not think even ; " I despise 
 him." 
 
 "Then, you wretches!" continued Lady Lysson, 
 " why did you not take some of the weight of a hostess' 
 burthen off my shoulders, and enliven the dreadful 
 half-hour before dinner with some music? IVir. Tre- 
 menhere, I command you to take me back to sweet 
 Florence on one of those melodies none can sing like 
 yourself." 
 
 There was an irresistible charm of nature about Lady 
 Lysson, before which art, constraint, and mere worldly 
 formality, fled abashed, and nature came forth from
 
 256 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 every breast around her, to play with its fellow. Tre- 
 menhere threw off the cold, stern teaching of the world, 
 and laughed and talked again, the happy Miles of his 
 father's home. Even Lady Dora unbent, and con- 
 descended to ask him for one of the Tuscan airs he sang 
 so well. Unhesitatingly he turned round the stool on 
 which he sat, without rising, and running his hand over 
 the keys, as one with- old ftxmiliar friends, he commenced, 
 not with stentorian lungs, but in tones scarcely to reach 
 the fireside, so subdued they were, and yet certainly to 
 touch the heart of all who could hear them. He had 
 nearly concluded the second verse, when one of the 
 ladies at the fire called Lady Lysson, to decide some 
 disputed point of genealogical origin. " One instant — 
 pray, don't cease!" she cried, rising to obey the sum- 
 mons. Lady Dora would have given worlds to accom- 
 pany her, but it could not, with common politeness, 
 have been accomplished; so she opened her fan, and, 
 with eyes fixed on the group at the fire, sat perfectly 
 indifferent, in seeming, to Miles and his ariette. The 
 instant Lady Lysson rose, he, without even a pause, 
 ran his fingers over the ivory, changed the key and air, 
 having ceased singing in the middle of his verse ; and, 
 in a still lower tone, as if breathing to liimself, but per- 
 fectly distinctly, commenced the hackneyed song of 
 " My love and cottage near Rochelle." It was so 
 pointedly done, so internally sung, (if we may so express 
 it,) that she could not but feel to whom he addressed it, 
 and her fair, neglected cousin Minnie stood, in her 
 mind's eye, on the shore, watching the receding vesseL
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 257 
 
 " Mr. Tremenhere has a versatile taste," she said in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 " Pardon me !" he rephed, starting as if from a dream, 
 and dropping his hands from the instrument. " I was 
 not aware Lady Dora was listening. 'Tis an old Eng- 
 lish song, speaking of home. We citizens of the world 
 should forget such places, especially in society. The 
 heart, however, turns there in thought, sometimes." 
 
 He fixed his eyes on her, with the stern look of one 
 judging her severely. She dropped her's carelessly on 
 the figiu'es of her fan. He rose, and moved a step 
 towards the other group. A sudden impulse impelled 
 her to exclaim hastily, " Mr. Tremenhere ! " He 
 stopped, and coldly tm^ned towards her — " Can I obhge 
 your ladyship in any thing ? " 
 
 "]Mr. Tremenhere," she continued hastily, beneath 
 her breath, wliile her bosom swelled with her self-im- 
 posed task ; " pray, be seated an instant, I have a word 
 to say to you." 
 
 He bowed, and placing himself on the music-stool, 
 awaited her next words in cold silence. She leaned to- 
 wards him ; then glancing at the others present, whose 
 number was momentarily increasing, she whispered, 
 moving to give him place beside her, and pointing to it 
 with her fan, " I wish to speak confidentially to you." 
 
 "Of yourself?" he asked, surprised, seating himself 
 where she pointed. 
 
 "No," she replied, drawing herself up in offended 
 pride ; " I should not presume to trouble you "svith my 
 personal afifau's, ISlx. Tremenhere." 
 
 TOL. I. 8
 
 258 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " You cannot wonder," he rejoined, " at my feeling 
 the utmost surprise how mine can in any way interest 
 your ladyship." 
 
 " I would speak of my cousin," she faltered. 
 *'0h!" and he smiled; "true — of my wife ; it will 
 scarcely astonish you if I say, I had totally forgotten 
 the relationship for the moment." 
 
 " Let there be a truce of sarcasms," she said, hur- 
 riedly. " You judge me harshly, I make no doubt ; but 
 there are many things which make this union a most 
 unfortunate, much to be regretted one." 
 
 " Pardon me, Lady Dora Vaughan, not to those 
 most interested. I can boldly assert my happiness is a 
 realized dream of paradise : my only sorrow, is in absence 
 from the home Minnie makes such to me ; and I tliink 
 I may venture to declare, that no sigh of regret ever 
 quivers on her lip. Those she justly prized have not 
 forgotten her — Aunt Dorcas, for one." 
 
 '^ Yes, I am aware," she interi-upted, with some confu- 
 sion, " she has visited you. Come Mr. Tremenhcre," 
 and she looked up less coldly in his face, "make some 
 allowances for my position ; I am not quite my o^ti 
 
 mistress. I " 
 
 "Lady Dora, my father was an oldfashioned man, 
 and he had quaint notions, you wiU say ; he taught me 
 that it was ungentlemanly not to reply to a polite letter 
 in all cases, and ungenerous in many." 
 
 "I see," she said, haughtily, "I have a prejudiced 
 judge. I will only pursue this conversation sufficiently 
 to ask a personal favour."
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 259 
 
 " Xame it. You shall, if possible, be obeyed." 
 
 " 'Tis — "'tis ; — in fact, no one here, except my mother, 
 is aware of yom: marriage. May I ask you to preserve 
 it a secret ?" 
 
 He read her thought, and was resolved to bend her 
 false pride to bare itself before him. " I cannot see," 
 he said, "in what my cehbacy interests any one here. 
 There is no lady in love with me, or sighing for leap- 
 year to declare herself!" he laughed carelessly. 
 
 ^' ]Mr. Tremenliere," she cried, " my meaning is this : 
 I — my mother, too, is most anxious that your imion 
 ^^-ith Miss Dalzell shoidd not be published. These pain- 
 ful family secrets are best preserved ever thus." The 
 blood-red spot of pride mantled on her cheek, and 
 flashed from her eye. He was speechless a moment ; 
 but what various passions passed over that face then, 
 all settled in one — utter contempt. These two persons 
 were the offspring of pride ; but his proud spmt was 
 the legitimate creation of a noble mind, unjustly spumed 
 and contemned; hers, that foul-named thing whose 
 father disowns it, whose mother blushes m shame as she 
 looks upon it. Tremenhere rose in all his soul's dignity, 
 and stood before her ; her glance could not cross his — 
 it shnmk, the unreal before the real. 
 
 " Lady Dora," he said, in his deep emphatic voice, " I 
 have yet to learn in how much I, the legitimate son of 
 Tremenhere of the manor, am beneath Miss Dalzell of 
 Gatestone, or those whom she calls kindred. True, she 
 is now but an artist's wife ; but that artist ^^411 make his 
 name one to be respected by all ; — he is working for a
 
 260 MILES TKEMEXIIERE. 
 
 great end and purpose. Kely upon it, till that purpose 
 be accomplished, his wife, the solace of all his best, 
 happiest hours, will only keep her smiles to cheer his 
 home, and support him in many trials; she will not, 
 either from choice or necessity, lavish them on a cold, 
 heartless society. There, his path of toil and bitterness, 
 fldl often, shall be alone. As a flawless gem jMinnie is to 
 me ; she needs no costly setting to prove her worth. It 
 is not in a world like yours — like mine — she shall be 
 named, to have one breath of slander dim her bright- 
 ness now ; but as surely as you and I stand face to face 
 this day, so surely shall the day of her triumph come, 
 and emanating from behind the cloud which now makes 
 me so deep a shadow over your path." His face worked 
 with the energy of his soul's anguish, at the thought 
 even of his pure Minnie being dragged forth a target for 
 the world's scorn, and for his sake, who woidd gladly 
 shed his life's blood to save her one pang. He felt 
 choking at the thought. 
 
 '' So," he continued, with bitter irony, " you would 
 have me as a tame lion in a cage, to caress through the 
 bars in all security; but the moment it should dare 
 dream of liberty, and, bursting its bonds, stand among 
 you free, for every arm to be raised against it — every 
 hand to hold a weapon to drive it back to slavery ! I, 
 Lady Dora, will be none such. I am proud as yourself — 
 proud of my name, even as it is ; and I will yet make it 
 sound, with Fame's trumpet to herald it, unless the 
 powers of hell combine against me, and then I will show 
 Minnie to the world— not before!"
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 2G1 
 
 " Pardon me," she cried, looking very pale — lier better 
 genius had triumphed ; '• prav, pardon me, Mr. Tremen- 
 
 here; I did not mean to pain you — I " slie was 
 
 almost in tears. 
 
 " Lady Dora," he sternly said, "you and I understand 
 each other. You have a noble heart ; let not the bho-ht- 
 ing world profane it Avith its heartless wisdom. Your 
 pride is the upas poison, withering all it touches ; mine 
 is spirit's right, riding on the winds which shall blast my 
 enemies, and uproot them like trees in a whirhA^nd, — 
 'tis the pride of love, too, which forbids my breathing the 
 name of my beloved ^linnie any where, until I can pro- 
 claim her mth a voice no one can still, as Tremenhere's 
 wife should be proclaimed I Rest satisfied," he con- 
 temptuously added ; " your pride will not be shaken from 
 its pedestal by the artist's wife I" He turned coldly 
 away. 
 
 "Mr. Tremenhere — ^liles Tremenhere!" she whis- 
 pered anxiously, half rising ; but he passed forward with- 
 out hesitating, and joined the group at the fire. 
 
 "1 saw you here discussing something withLady Dora," 
 cried the fair hostess ; " was it music, painting, or — not 
 love, I hope ? 'Tis a subject best left unargued upon ; it 
 always reminds me of a game called ' cat's cradle,' which 
 I played when a child with a cousin of my o\\ti, and 
 through the loops of which, the fingers passed (for fin- 
 gers, read arguments and reasonings, !Mr. Tremenhere,) 
 until at last he was certain to produce so incomprehen- 
 sible a weaving of cord, that I could never unloose it.
 
 262 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 and I was fain to sit down conquered. Don't play at 
 * cat's cradle* with Lady Dora." 
 
 " Your ladyship need be under no apprehension for 
 the residt, were I to attempt it. Lady Dora's clever- 
 ness would undo any skein of mine." 
 
 " I don't know that. Lady Dora, my dear ; where 
 is she ? She has left the room." 
 
 'Twas true; but she returned shortly with her 
 mother, wlio received Miles with perfect good breed- 
 ing as a mere acquaintance, which position he accepted, 
 nor desired more.
 
 MILES TRE>IE^^^ERE. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 This same evening two persons sat after dinner sipping 
 their Avine, in a hotel at the AYest End : these were ^lar- 
 madnke Burton and Dalby. We must here introduce 
 the latter as a totally different man to what we have 
 seen him in Yorkshire ; he was one of those who pos- 
 sess a serpent facihty of slipping their skin, only that he 
 performed the operation more than annually, and at 
 ^vill. He had crept into good society in toTNTi ; there, 
 where an honest, upright lawyer could not have met the 
 views of his chents. Perhaps we are saying too much 
 for some cases, for there were many men of the highest 
 piinciple who employed Dalby ; he was a very usefiil 
 man, and being anxious to quit the country shortly, and 
 practise in town, he lost no opportunity of increasing 
 his connection. Here he was a perfectly different being ; 
 much of the formahty of manner, necessary in the coun- 
 try, where levity might not have suited the homeher 
 ideas of those seeking his aid, was thro^^Ti aside com- 
 pletely. He knew all the lessees, managers, English and 
 foreign, of all the theatres, all the artists' studios, the 
 actresses, models — aU were familiar to him. Did Mr. 
 want some fair one hastily siunmoned from Paris,
 
 264 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 to appear unexpectedly on the boards of liis theatre, and 
 take tlie town by surprise, Dalby was off, with just a car- 
 pet-bag, to France, and before any one imagined it pos- 
 sible, he had returned with the fair one, as in nine cases 
 out of ten he succeeded. There was a bustling manner 
 about him, yet not disagreeable when he pleased, which 
 carried much before him. He took things for granted, and 
 often left no room for a person to say " Ko." Had he 
 entreated, it might have been otherwise ; but he said — 
 " Oh ! you must do it, you know, my dear — it will be the 
 making of you ; " and thus many a good engagement was 
 relinquished for an indifferent one, by some inexpe- 
 rienced, and often established actress, because it suited 
 Dalby's policy to oblige his employer. He cared for no 
 one but himself. Then he had a habit of loitering near 
 the doors of theatres, and many a lady, distressed by 
 the non-appearance of her carriage, was politely addressed 
 by Dalby. More than once he had unceremoniously, in 
 such a case, appropriated a bachelor friend's brougham, 
 and, oifering it as his own, received ten thousand thanks 
 from some fussy dowager on a wet evening, and a cor- 
 dial invitation to her house. A half-crown to the groom, 
 and a — "If asked whose brougham it is, say Mr. Dalby's," 
 made him perfectly tranquil ; to the real o^nier he would 
 say, (be it remembered, he always took care to select 
 some man of Lord llandolph's mould — a quiet, easy- 
 going person — for his instrument to be played upon,) 
 " My dear fellow, a very particular client of mine, rich 
 as Croesus, missed her carriage, I have lent yours for 
 ten minutes — you don't mind?"
 
 MILES TEEMEXHEEE. 265 
 
 " Oh ! not in the least ; let's stand here, and watch 
 the girls get into the carnages. By Jove I there's a 
 pretty one, who can she be ? Is it Lady This ? or ^liss 
 That?" etc., etc., etc. 
 
 We give the reader a skeleton sketch of most conver- 
 sations of the kind, just to show how Dalby had got on 
 so well ; and, by means such as these, he was factotum 
 to half the needy of those kind of slaves in town, so no 
 wonder he resolved to relinquish guiet country practice. 
 
 " Don't I tell you," said Burton, continuing a conver- 
 sation, " that I had no idea the fellow was coming. 
 Gray made his acquaintance in Florence, but I never 
 imagined it would be continued in town ; the fellow is 
 making his way every where — ciu-se him I" and he ground 
 his teeth bitterly. 
 
 " We'll clip his wings," answered Dalby ; " but it 
 must be done throusrh her — she is his guidinor star in all. 
 K he lost her — well ; he would soon disappear from om* 
 path." 
 
 " I hate that man, Dalby, yet I would not seriously 
 injure him ; but why he, an artist, cannot return to 
 Italy, seems astonishing to me — 'tis his proper field." 
 
 " There are too many there ; moreover, he has some 
 scheme in hand I cannot fathom. I discovered Mary 
 Bums. She is residing in a very humble cottage near 
 Kentish Town ; part of the house she lets furnished, and 
 ekes out an existence for herself and bhnd mother, by 
 morning lessons as governess. He has established her 
 thus."
 
 266 MILES TREMENIIERE.' 
 
 **And does — does" — he couldn't say ^Irs. Tremen- 
 here. " Does his wife ever call there 1 " 
 
 " I think so. I looked in at an hour when Mary was 
 absent, having ascertained when this was the case. I 
 called as a stranger about lessons for my daughter, and 
 saw the old mother; but she is deaf, blind, and half 
 childish. She gave me little information. All she said 
 was, ^Kind friends — old friends, very kind; so Mary says.' 
 I rely more on what I elicited, guardedly, from the ser- 
 vant. I think more may be done there. The girl has 
 a downcast look and a fixed smile, which betoken one 
 to be perhaps bought. Some of these blind fools to their 
 interest, are faithful to their employers — what business 
 has the hireling to look to any thing but money?" 
 
 " True — but don't trust her too soon." 
 
 ^' No, nor by myself. I will set another to work, who 
 knows only what I tell him — one of the red waistcoat 
 messengers. Tell him a woman's in the case, and he 
 will be alert and faithful. This girl said, a sweet fair lady 
 and tall gentleman called sometimes — these must be the 
 man and his wife." 
 
 " Well, I leave it in your hands. Fancy my being 
 obliged to leave Uplands ! Fortunately, Gray, who is 
 the most harum-scarum host in the world, let the name 
 escape only the day he was expected. Of course, I 
 could not stay and meet him ; I told him we had had 
 some discussion, and that the contact would be unplea- 
 sant to both. The fellow has nouse enough to keep a 
 still tongue. No one seems acquainted with former 
 facts ; he is only known as a rising artist, of good fami-
 
 MILES TREMEXHEEE. 267 
 
 ly, they think ; — well, so he is on one side. I hinted no 
 relationship, and begged Gray to insinuate from himself , 
 to the dozen assembled there, that we had been on un- 
 friendly terms, and thus prevent my name being men- 
 tioned." 
 
 " Oh ! that was best ; it may be as well he should 
 hear little of you, if he could be persuaded somehow to 
 take her there. Lady Dora might arrange that, if she 
 so pleased " 
 
 " My dear fellow, the oddest thing is, no one knows 
 he is married ! Lady Ripley drew me aside, and asked 
 as a personal favour, that I would say nothing about the 
 scandalous marriao-e of her niece — this before his cominor 
 was known; how they got on, all of them, I know not." 
 
 "Whew !" ejaculated Dalby, as if a thought struck 
 him ; '^ a bachelor, eh ! Then what do they suppose her 
 to be?" 
 
 '' Her existence is unknown to his mere acquaintances, 
 fori sifted Gray ; he is like a sieve of wheat. I got all 
 the com, and threw the dust in his o\\n eyes. My 
 amount of information is this — This ]Miles is a capital 
 fellow, not caring for any woman, else he were danger- 
 ous let loose amongst them ; so deucedly good-looking, 
 even Lady Dora might notice that ; up to any thing — 
 the best shot, horseman — all ; so he's always welcome at 
 Uplands — every fellow likes him." 
 
 " That is," said Burton, " as every man lihes the best 
 shot, etc., who cuts him out in all ways. So with these 
 qualities, and the friends they create for a man, get to
 
 268 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 work, Dalby, and let's hunt this impostor out of the 
 country." 
 
 " We'll see," said the other, rubbing his hands. " I 
 have an idea — crude, 'tis true ; give me time. As your 
 professional friend, I deem myself called upon to meet 
 your natural wishes, and get rid of a nuisance. Poor 
 fellow ! we will award him Italy ; why couldn't he go 
 there?" and he laughed contemptuously. 
 
 These were the creatures Sylvia and Juvenal had 
 selected for their niece ! Poor Minnie ! no wonder she 
 ran away. Reader, did you ever feel a desire to be an 
 atrocious villain for five minutes? To have all the 
 sentiments, ideas, schemes, and infamies, engendered in 
 the minds of such ? Think how many thousand thoughts 
 they have to which we are total strangers ! What a 
 peep into another world it would be — a world of novel- 
 ties ! Every spectre fancy, a mental Ethiop ! 
 
 We must not make Dalby so black as Burton; the 
 one looked upon the matter thus : — ^^ Burton is my 
 client ; in my heart I believe Tremenhere legitimate ; 
 but we have no proof — 'tis not for me to seek for 
 it. In my client's interest I must try and get this 
 fellow out of the country quietly; it can best be 
 done by means of his wife — make him jealous, and 
 he will carry her off to the antipodes. How may 
 this be accomplished? I must devise some plan;" 
 but in thus coldly calculating, he never once con- 
 sidered, that in raising a cause of jealousy in a man's 
 mind, you destroy his happiness — you brush the bloom 
 from the peach, and it quickly fades. A jealous man
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 269 
 
 desecrates every thing by his suspicions; turning the 
 mysterious and beautiful vapour around her he loves, to 
 mist and gloom. Is she sad ? — she is regretting some 
 one ; gay ? — some secret cause for joy exists ; thought- 
 ful? — 'tis of another. He feels, in short, like a man 
 tied to a galvanized coq^se; the form is there — the 
 spirit fled. 
 
 Bm'ton's motives were different to the others. He 
 had a darker aim in view ; he had to be revenged on 
 both — how ? he cared little, so he accomphshed it. He 
 well knew that ]Miles had suffered deepest ^Tong at his 
 hands, but who had the proof? not himself even. He 
 had destroyed every trace which might lead to it ; he 
 had been resolved not to seek it, thus to be enabled to 
 say to his accusing spirit, "'Tis false, I do not know it." 
 How many like Burton trample awliile on conscience I 
 
 We have sho"vvn the position of Mary Bm-ns. A\Tien 
 Minnie had been a short time in to^^Ti, she implored 
 Allies to let her visit this poor gii'l ; his natm-al good- 
 ness of heart had been a Httle warped by the world. He 
 had become stem from the galling chain it threw aroimd 
 him, in the faidt it accused his mother of; he judged 
 woman harshly; — tliis, even now, made him fi-equently 
 wish that ^Minnie had become his otherwise than by an 
 elopement. At first, he peremptorily refused to permit 
 her to go there. ^linnie, in her soul's purity, looked 
 amazed. "AATiy not?" she asked. 
 
 " Why ? — why ? oh, because it is not a fitting place for 
 you to go to," was the reply. 
 
 " Wliy not, dear MUes?"
 
 270 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 " Minnie, thougli you acted like an angel in visiting 
 this poor girl in the country, and supporting her in her 
 sorrow, by leading her aright ; yet you must not forget 
 tliat she has turned from the straight road — though you 
 may pity, you must not associate with her." 
 
 She looked do^vn silently some moments, then raising 
 her full eyes to his face said, laying one fair hand on his 
 shoulder, " Miles, dear, don't you believe Mary Bums 
 to be a truly penitent woman?" 
 
 " ^lost truly and sincerely so.'' 
 
 "My dearest husband does not need me to recall to his 
 mind our highest example of pardoning in a like case, I am 
 sure? Do not be worldly and severe, my own love; think 
 well, and from your own good heart, where woidd unhappy 
 woman be if every door and heart closed against her ?" 
 
 " My Minnie, my child, you are an angel ! '* he cried, 
 clasping her to his bosom. " What should I be without 
 you? — a cold, worldly wretch like those I associate with. 
 I feared, darling, lest the censorious, ever hearing of it, 
 should class your imprudence in flying with me with 
 her deeper error. Forgive me, dearest, we will go and 
 visit poor Mary; it will cheer her.'' 
 
 Our readers wUl see how the remembrance of his 
 wife's fault ever haunted him ; 'tis true, even in his 
 fondest moments it would steal like a spectre across his 
 mind. His adoration of her made this regret the more 
 intense, and weakened the entire confidence he other- 
 mse would have felt in her prudence — a thought 
 beyond, never entered his imagination : but, strange 
 though it be, such is man, naturally a Utile self-con-
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 271 
 
 ceited, and yet witli all that, he cannot conceive that 
 a woman may do for one from affection, what not all 
 the world beside might win her to do for another! 
 No, they cannot make this distinction ; and thns Miles 
 fancied Minnie too gentle, too little seh'-confident, to be 
 perfectly rehed upon, as he would have done on such 
 a one as Lady Dora, or Minnie herself, had she suffered 
 all sooner than have fled with him. 
 
 He was scarcely just ; but this feeling was involuntary 
 on his part, and, though happily unkno^^Ti to her, was the 
 thorn which rankled in his flesh. Together they visited 
 Mary's neat httle cottage, where a quiet, peacefid hope 
 seemed to dwell ; a faint blush rose to her pale cheek as 
 they entered. She had been then hving some few months 
 respected by all, her fault unknown, and the meeting with 
 Miles and his wife seemed like a momentaiy re-union 
 ■v\ith her error, and she blushed with shame and dis- 
 gust towards herself. She had not forgotten her faidt, 
 nor the repentance due to it, but she had learned self- 
 respect, and their presence for an instant degraded her 
 again; but aU was softened to peace in the kindness of 
 both, and the deep interest e\anced in her prosperity. 
 
 The first painful feeling passed, the interview was 
 one of pleasure to all. ^iinnie had, even as a girl 
 herself, upheld this sinking one; Miles had rescued her 
 from shame, and placed her in comfort ; and, as the gui 
 looked from one to the other, her eyes swam in gratefrd 
 tears. A lady and gentleman had been residing with her, 
 andwoiddretium again shortly, meanwhile she hoped to let 
 her rooms to others; then she had several pupils she
 
 272 MILES TREMEXIIERE. 
 
 visited at their own homes, and her poor dear mother had 
 now every comfort. These Avords she could scarcely utter 
 for her swelling tears of gratitude. With light hearts 
 Tremenhere and JNIinnie quitted, promising to return 
 soon. As they turned away he grasped his little wife's 
 hand and said, " Thank you, dearest, for the happiness 
 of to-day ; when can I ever pay you my debt for all, 
 my Minnie?"
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 This chapter of digression was necessary, to show 
 our readers the exact position of all our various person- 
 ages. We will now return to Miles at Uplands ; only, 
 however, to state, that after another day passed there, 
 in necessary arrangements >vith the lordly master, he 
 returned to town, to the great dissatisfaction of this 
 latter and Lady Lysson, with whom he was a great 
 favourite; but, beyond necessity, he never now asso- 
 ciated with those where Minnie was a stranger. He 
 avoided the slightest collision vrith Lady Dora, w^hose 
 pride once more rose in the ascendant, as she beheld 
 his evident avoidance of her. He was strictly polite ; 
 but no mortal could, from the manner of either, have 
 imagined that they had nearly loved once, or that still 
 Lady Dora remembered that feeling, though in anger 
 towards her own weakness — still less could the world 
 have supposed that he had married her favourite cousin 
 — almost sister ! These are the secrets of life, hidden 
 from a prying world, and festering often from their bit- 
 terness in. one's o\Yn heart. 
 
 He left Uplands, and was once more beside his loving 
 wife, whose every thought had been his in absence. Sho 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 was the model of what a wife should be, when left alone. 
 She did not, like too many, cry, " I am free awhile ; wliat 
 shall I do, that I cannot when he is here 'i " Her thought 
 was, " What shall I do to please Miles when he returns 
 — how surprise him?" and the busy anxious heart 
 sought through all its recesses to find one, if possible, 
 where a warmer thought might be hidden, than any he 
 had yet known, to welcome him with on his return. 
 
 Men of intrigue have emissariee every where ; they are 
 never above a little familiarity with servants of every 
 description. These are their best friends ; for the ones 
 money cannot purchase, may always be bought by 
 affability and kindness, and this without compromising 
 one's self. Dalby seldom was guilty of so unwary an act 
 as this, except in extreme cases. Pie found out all he 
 wished to know adroitly ; even the purchased were un- 
 aware they were selling secrets. It was through some 
 channel of this sort he discovered how soon Tremenhere 
 left Uplands, and the same day at dinner he was there. 
 
 Lady Lysson did not like the man, but her nephew 
 assured her he was a capital fellow; above all, extremely 
 useful ; so she received him, and attributed her personal 
 antipathy to some flaw in her organ for comprehending 
 exactly what a capital fellow should be. Lady Dora and 
 her mother were beyond measure vexed. This former was 
 hourly receiving warnings enough, in an indirect way, to 
 cure her of her false pride, only they had not the effect 
 of doing so ; she did not yet see her fault. , To make 
 a confidant of this man, neither dreamed of; and they 
 came dowTi to dinner with the pleasant anticipation of
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 275 
 
 hearing a dozen persons wondering about Tremenhere's 
 marriage, and of hearing all particulars discussed and 
 commented upon. They had decided upon braving 
 the storm by quietly disclaiming any acquaintanceship 
 with his wife ; and on that very morning Lady Dora, 
 under a better feeling than of late, had been asking her 
 mother to allow her to visit poor Minnie, when they 
 returned to town, but ineffectually. " We are forced 
 to meet the man occasionally," said Lady Ripley, coldly, 
 " but visiting one who has so disgraced her family, is 
 quite another thing ! " 
 
 Great was their surprise when Dalby bowed most 
 respectfully, but distantly to them, merely inquiring 
 about their health. Still greater was it, when. Lady 
 Lysson speaking with regret of Tremenhere'*s absence, 
 the politic Dalby alluded to him as scarcely one with 
 whose name he was acquainted ! They both mentally 
 thanked him, and dinner passed off delightfidly. 
 
 Lady Dora was not the affianced bride of Lord 
 Randolph — true, he wished her to be his — so did Lady 
 Lysson — so did Lady Ripley ; but three affirmatives in 
 this case, were conquered by one negative. Lady Dora 
 said, when he proposed to her, " We do not know one 
 another sufficiently yet;" and he was quite content 
 to wait. Her beauty, position — all made him desire 
 to make her his wife; but in truth she w^as not a 
 person to inspire mad love in any one, except indeed, 
 her despotic pride could bend, and the woman be 
 all woman ; but as it was he took it very calmly — she 
 would be liis some day, he presumed. But his love
 
 276 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 was not that St. Vitus' genus which makes a man ever 
 restless — hot and cold all over, if another does but look 
 at your love ; or, like that deep-seated affection which 
 bound Lady Lysson at sixteen to her "cat's cradle", 
 cousin ; and though a young lovely widow at twenty, deaf 
 to every second offer, not seeing the possibility/ of call- 
 ing another — husband. Neither of these loves swayed 
 Lord Kandolph ; it was a connubial and well-disposed 
 affection, which pulls its Templar nightcap well over its 
 ears, and falls asleep, perfectly assured of awaking as 
 soon as ever it shall be called upon to do so. 
 
 The cloth is gone — the ladies are gone, and the gen- 
 tlemen sit alone — a cosey half-dozen. 
 
 " So," said Dalby, at last, " I find Tremenhere, the 
 artist, has been here; did he make a long stay?" 
 
 " No," answered somebody, " only a day ; we were 
 sorry he quitted so soon. What a deuced pleasant, 
 intelligent fellow he is ! " 
 
 "I think him very hawnsome" drawled a greyish- 
 looking youth, like a raw March morning. 
 
 "By jingo, yes!" chimed a third; "if I were a 
 woman, he is just the man I'd faU over head and ears 
 in love with." 
 
 " Now, I don't think that," said the raw one, " he's 
 too cold ; and I don't quite like his long moustache." 
 
 "Well," retracted the second speaker, "perhaps I 
 said too much ; he certainly is well-looking, but he wants 
 style ; and somehow the ladies don't seem to admh^e 
 him — they are the best judges." 
 
 " I tell you what," exclaimed Lord Randolph ; " I
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 277 
 
 tliink him one of the most distino^iiished-lookiiior fellows 
 I ever saw, and, were I in the service, would give half my 
 pay for his moustache ; why, 'tis the most perfect raven's 
 wing I ever saw, and sUlvy like his hair. My only sur- 
 prise is, that one has never heard of any love affair of 
 his ; and here, as in Florence, he always moves in the 
 best society." 
 
 "^Yho is he?" asked an elderly epicure, waking up 
 from a dream " in raemonam " of the exquisite dinner 
 his host had set before them. 
 
 " Oh ! a — nobody, I believe," answered some one. 
 "A decent family, I have heard, in the country; but 
 then he is veiy impresuming — that's one thing." 
 
 "Faith!" answered Lord Randolph, "he was sought 
 after, courted, by every one in Florence ; but the fellow 
 seemed to me to disldie society, like one absorbed either 
 by his art, or some secret preying thoughts." 
 
 "Perhaps he was a government spy,^'' drawled the 
 one before alluded to. 
 
 All this while Dalby had sat listening and smihng to 
 himself; just what he wanted. Lord Randolph at last 
 noticed this, and exclamied, "Dalby — you who know 
 every thing, I bet my life, know more than any of us 
 about Tremenhere." 
 
 "How should I?" he answered evasively, to excite 
 more cimosity on his host's part. " By the way, has he 
 finished your 'Aurora' yet?" He wished them to 
 think he was anxious to twm the subject. 
 
 "Xo," replied Lord Randolph. "He says he cannot 
 meet with a face to please him for the goddess."
 
 278 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laugliecl Dalby, as if involuntarily. 
 " That's too good a joke !" 
 
 " By Jove ! you know something more than you tell 
 us, Dalby. Come, man, have it out ; make a clean 
 breast of it." 
 
 " Pshaw, I know nothing ! I only laughed at the idea 
 of not finding a lovely Aurorean face, even in London." 
 
 " Come, that won't do," cried two or three ; " you do 
 know something — let's have it." 
 
 Dalby thought a moment. To tell all these men 
 would not do ; he had gained his point, in exciting Lord 
 Randolph's curiosity. His very hesitation said more 
 than words. Finding himself rigorously attacked, he 
 affected to have done this to raise a storm of curiosity 
 in their minds ; and, in the midst of their clamour, he 
 quickly turned his eye on his host, and, giving him a 
 peculiar look of intelligence, said, " I assure you, I know 
 only this, that were I an engaged man, I should very 
 much hesitate in trusting my ' ladye-love ' so near so fas- 
 cinating a man." 
 
 Lord Randolph gave a start ; even little used as he 
 was to solve enigmas, he saw something was meant, and 
 the look convinced him, for himself alone. By a little 
 finesse he silenced the clamorous, and turaed their 
 thoughts into another channel, and thus the after dinner 
 passed. 
 
 " Come, now," said Lord Randolph, as he and Dalby 
 sat together in the former's dressing-room, smoking a 
 cigar, after every one else had retired for the night, 
 *' tell me what you meant after dinner, about Tremen-
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 279 
 
 here. I confess that man, at home and abroad, has 
 sorely puzzled me." 
 
 Dalby had well digested his plans, to obtain the con- 
 currence in them which he eventually hoped for from 
 the other, it was necessary that he should excite a 
 feeling of pique against Miles; thus he went to his worthy 
 work, first having bound his listener to solemn secresy, 
 on the plea of personal interest in himself, making him 
 guilty of an unprofessional w^ant of silence and caution ; 
 this obtained, he began — " You know, perhaps, that 
 Tremenhere is ille2:itimate?" 
 
 "Not I — how the deuce should I?" 
 
 " Well, then, he is. I should be unnecessarily expos- 
 ing many painful family secrets, to tell you what family 
 he lays claim to kindi'ed with ; I merely come to facts, 
 which are true. He has been residing abroad some 
 years — by the way," he seemed as if suddenly enlightened 
 by a thought, though every word had been pre-conceived, 
 "did he not meet Lady Dora Vaughan in Florence?" 
 
 " Yes ; when I too met him," answered the other, not 
 a little amazed at this turn. 
 
 " That, then, accounts for much." 
 
 "What can you mean, Dalby — pray, be quick?" ac- 
 tually Lord Randolph's heart gave a little quiet jump. 
 
 " Well then, in a few words. Lady Dora was recently 
 in Yorkshire, and there too Tremenhere was." 
 
 " This has never been alluded to in my presence," said 
 the listener, uncomfortably. 
 
 "Nor to one another, perhaps" emphasized Dalby. 
 "I think there is a coolness between them tiow?."
 
 280 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 
 
 " By Jove ! I said as much to Lady Dora, and she 
 denied it rather angrily and haughtily." 
 
 The other smiled. " It was not so in Yorkshire. Her 
 ladyship was as usual kind, affable, and condescending, 
 and this Tremenhere (mind I am speaking my mind in 
 all candour to your lordship) mistook it, I fear, and 
 acting thereupon, from what transpu-ed, was rather pre- 
 suming.'* 
 
 " How ? in what manner ?" asked Lord Randolph 
 with hauteur. " And how did this occur ? were they 
 domiciled in one house ?" 
 
 " No, this made the matter more audacious, he had 
 been driven from this house, and used to enter surrep- 
 titiously through the grounds, and intrude upon Lady 
 Dora's privacy." 
 
 "By George!" cried Lord Eandolph, passing his 
 hand through his hair, (like a bird trying to smooth its 
 ruffled feathers,) as if it stood on end with horrified pride; 
 "this comes of mixing in general society, as they do 
 abroad. 1 set my face against it then, but Lady Lysson 
 liked it, so I gave in; people should keep in their ovm. 
 class." 
 
 " There certainly are some confoundedly presuming 
 persons," chimed in Dalby, not at all offended at what 
 might have touched his sensitiveness, had he possessed 
 such a thing; but he wa^, grammatically speaking, "an 
 impersonal," taking nothing to himself. He made a 
 pause here, wishing the other to commence the next 
 facet in the diamond he was cutting, reserving to his 
 own skill to polish each, according to the light required
 
 MILES TEEMEXHEKE. 281 
 
 for bis scheme; it would be a precious gemwortb settiug 
 wben be bad completed it. 
 
 " Lady Ripley and ber daughter were staying at tbe 
 former's brother's, were they not ? I have beard them 
 speak of a homely Yorkshire family of relatives, not 
 known beyond their own grounds." 
 
 " The same," answered Dalby, well pleased at tbe 
 other's ignorance of tbe Formby family — it furthered bis 
 plans. 
 
 "And bow did terminate ?" 
 
 " Ob! of course, as you may imagine; Tremenbere was 
 expelled in a summary manner, as ber ladyship com- 
 plained of the annoyance, and now I come to tbe pith 
 of my tale." Lord Randolph blew forth a long puff of 
 smoke, and drew nearer tbe fire; be was positively ex- 
 cited. " Remember," said tbe other in a whisper, " I have 
 your lordship's word that this shall be a profound secret 
 between us, happen what may." 
 
 " I pledge you my sacred bonom*." 
 
 " I will not mention names, but facts; this Tremenbere, 
 under a quiet exterior, is a libertine, — one who knows no 
 such thing as bonoiu' by practice, though it is a favourite 
 theme of bis. Enraged, I presiune, by Lady Dora's just 
 repulsion of bis impertinence, be carried off a most lovely 
 girl from tbe neighbourhood, to the distraction of ber 
 family, and this girl is now residing with him near 
 Cliiswick." 
 
 "By heavens !" exclaimed tbe other, "bow one may 
 be deceived ! Had this srirl no brother ?" 
 
 "None; those kind of men know where they can in
 
 282 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 security work their villanies, and when this man com- 
 plained to you that he could meet with no face worthy 
 of his Aurora, I involuntarily thought of this girl, for 
 she is the perfection of beauty in fairness." 
 
 "You know her?" 
 
 " I have seen her often ; pardon my concealing her 
 name, for the sake of her family." 
 
 " Egad, Dalby, I shoidd like to see this girl ! I worship 
 beauty ; the fellow deserves it at my hands for his im- 
 pertinence to Lady Dora." 
 
 Dalby had exactly cut his diamond as he had de- 
 sired to do. " Should you?" he said thoughtfully; "I 
 will think how it may be done, but he is deucedly 
 jealous often." 
 
 "Are they married?" asked Lord Randolph. 
 
 *' I have heard so, but we hear many things which are 
 untrue." It would not have done to have said, Yes — 
 for, though a fool. Lord Randolph was not devoid of 
 principle. 
 
 " He is too jealous, at all events," continued the other, 
 " to make her ' An Aurora' for others to gaze upon." 
 
 "Is she then so beautiful?" asked his host eagerly. 
 
 " I tell you this, my lord," was the emphatic reply. 
 " I have seen much beauty, many portraits — I cannot in 
 honest truth except even Lady Dora — I never saw any 
 one to equal Mrs. Tremenhere, as they call her." 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed his lordship, throwing his 
 cigar in the fire — the words and action, spoke volumes 
 of emotion, for him. 
 
 Dalby saw his scheme had taken root ; curiosity leads
 
 MILES TREMEXHEKE. 283 
 
 to more real mischief than many another actual vice — 
 he rose. 
 
 " Don't go yet ; here, smoke another cigar before you 
 go : it is early — not twelve." 
 
 " My dear lord, I was up early ; we hard-working 
 men are unused to these late hours of luxury. I am 
 dead beat to-night," and he yawned convidsively, for 
 no sleep was near his brain; it was waking, and watching 
 every thing. He had done enough for one night ; he 
 would leave his lordship food for reflection. He had 
 several aims in view — to revenge himself on Minnie, 
 was one ; but to serve Marmaduke, by driving Tremen- 
 here out of England, was the principal object, thus se- 
 curing a safe friend and patron to himself. This too, he 
 did, with Lord Randolph, who saw nothing of the wick- 
 edness of the plot or plotters. He was ready to run into 
 any mischief, for no particular motive, only from sheer 
 idleness ; and he was in good hands to lead him astray. 
 With Tremenhere, he felt quite indignant ; and firmly 
 resolved, as soon as practicable, to cut the fellow. He 
 had ordered this "Aurora;" so he must take it. Mean- 
 while, he would be very cool when they met, and let 
 him comprehend that any attention he had received 
 had been condescension, not equality.
 
 284 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Two days after these events, the lady portion of 
 visiters quitted Uplands — some went one way, some 
 another. Lady Lysson's chaperonage was over, so she, 
 too, quitted her bachelor nephew's, and left him to his 
 male companions, dogs and horses, for a while longer, 
 Dalby remained, and a worse than himself returned — 
 Marmaduke Burton ; worse too, that he was more on an 
 equality with their host than Dalby. He could work 
 openly ; yet, too, the coward trembled lest Tremenhere 
 should ever discover his share in the nefarious plot — 
 which plot we shall now permit to work itself out, with- 
 out further explanation. 
 
 Lady Dora's better genius triumphed when she 
 quitted Uplands. Something remained painfully on 
 her mind after her conversation with Miles. His in- 
 dignant pride debased her to her true littleness of 
 conduct, and the really good-nature, had it not been 
 biased by a worldly mother, triumphed; and one 
 day her quiet, well-appointed brougham, which she 
 chose in preference to their britscha, as being less 
 ostentatious, and in better taste for her expedition, 
 drove up to Tremenhere's pretty cottage at Chis^vick. 
 Minnie was alone ; he had gone to town on business.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 285 
 
 She, all affection and forgivenessj had a singular memory 
 in these times of heartlessness and calculation ; she 
 always forgot the bad, and held a bright sunny spot for 
 the good deeds of all. In an instant she was in Dora's 
 arms, her own round the other's neck, and her bright 
 face, dimpling like a child's, and as innocent, held up- 
 wards for the kiss of peace. 
 
 " Dear, dear, Dora!" she cried, wliile on the setting 
 of fringe which we have spoken of round her soft eyes, 
 hung gems of tears, like May morning dew on hawthorn, 
 *^ I knew you would come some day and see me." Here 
 the joyous tears burst forth. " And Miles thinks so 
 too, I know ; for, whenever he returns, he always asks 
 has any one called ? well kno^ying no one would so, 
 unless it were you ; and when I say, ' No one, dear,' he 
 takes me to his arms, and says, embracing me, ' Never 
 mind, Minnie, I always come back to you — never mind 
 the world, dear child ! ' Oh ! he is so kind, dearest 
 Dora ! " exclaimed the loving TN^fe, " and I am so very 
 happy!" 
 
 " Long may it last, dear ^linnie," said her cousin, as 
 she returned the caress; " I have been very cruel not to 
 come sooner, but — but " 
 
 "Don't speak of it, dear Dora," cried Minnie, ever 
 anxious to save another any pain; "I know it was not 
 yom' fault — ^my aunt wouldn't let you; but, now you are 
 here, do stay aU day, ^liles will return at five, 'tis scarcely 
 two yet," and she drew her beside her on an ottoman, 
 and encircled her with her arms.
 
 286 MILES TREMENHEKE. 
 
 "I cannot Minnie, mamma does not know I have 
 come ; I shall have to tell her cautiously, for " 
 
 " Oh ! I know, I know, I've been a very naughty girl, 
 but why did they lock me up ? and why was my uncle 
 going to take me to that odious Miss Burton's ? If he 
 had confided in my honour, I never should have ran 
 away." 
 
 " Are you sure, Minnie — quite sure ? Mr. Tremen- 
 here is very persuasive, I make no doubt, and handsome 
 too; I think him much improved since his marriage," she 
 spoke constrainedly. 
 
 "How do you know?" asked her cousin, amazed; 
 *Svhen did you see him — and where?" 
 
 " Did he not tell you," inquired the other, much con- 
 fused, "I met him at Uplands. Oh! I have perhaps done 
 wrong in telling you." A strange sensation, half trium^^h, 
 half pleasure, shot through her heart; it was one of those 
 involuntary promptings of the evil one, which w^e cannot 
 always master. "Why," prompted this fiend, "did 
 Tremenhere deceive his wife ? Dares he not trust him- 
 self to name me?" 
 
 "Oh ! I see it aU !" cried that pure-hearted wife; "it 
 is just like my own dear Miles — he feared to pain me." 
 She was sincere in this thought then. 
 
 " Come, ^linnie," cried Lady Dora, hastily rising, " put 
 on your bonnet, we will have a quiet drive, we can then 
 speak of aU ; I love a nice chat in a cosy, half-sleepy, 
 jog-trot pace — my country pace, I caU it. Come, we will 
 go out for half an hour." She Avished to break the
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 287 
 
 thread of the conversation, and have a little time to re- 
 cover herself. 
 
 **And then you-udll return ^dth me, and remain?" 
 
 " I don't promise ; we shall see." 
 
 The delighted Minnie was soon shawled and bonneted. 
 It was a fine, clear day, almost frosty ; they drove on 
 till they arrived at Kenington Gardens; ^linnie had told 
 all, her flight, how accompHshed — of her happiness she 
 needed not to speak; it breathed in every glance, every 
 tone, when his name fell from her lips. Dora more than 
 once checked a sio:h — this mio^ht have been hers but for 
 her pride; the soul whispered this, the woman disavowed 
 the thought ; yet she had never loved hun, or she would 
 have sacrificed all, and even then have sighed over the 
 poverty of the all she had to give. To check these 
 thouo:hts, she drew the check-strins; at Kensino-ton Gar- 
 dens. 
 
 "Let us have a walk, ^linnie," she cried suddenly; 
 " the air is refi'eshing." 
 
 In an instant they were side by side, walking at a 
 brisk pace through the walks. Lady Dora turned off 
 towards the Palace, to avoid any rencontres. We often 
 turn to avoid meetino; somethino; which is folloTvdno; us. 
 
 By chance, it so happened that Lord Randolph was 
 riding down the road; he recognized Lady Dora's 
 brougham, inquh'ed, and in less than five minutes 
 orvertook her and her companion. What was to be 
 done? Lady Dora was scarlet; nothing could more 
 have annoyed her than this. Introduce her cousin she 
 oould not, as ^Ii's. Tremenhere; it would betray all.
 
 288 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 Had she had time to think, it would have been infinitely 
 better to have said nothing than what she said. Press- 
 ing Minnie's arm, who, poor child, thought all Dora did 
 must be right, she said, " Miss Dalzell, Lord Randolph 
 Gray." Nevertheless, Minnie did start, and visibly; 
 then a deep flush rose, and added still more to her ex- 
 treme beauty. He was perfectly paralyzed. In over- 
 taking Lady Dora, he expected in her companion to see 
 some familiar face. Here he met a person whose name 
 even was unknown to him ; her confusion did not escape 
 him either. Had they met before ? Was she an humble 
 companion ? But, no : he assuredly must have then seen 
 her before. And, to confirm him in the certainty of 
 this not being the case, this fair girl called the proud 
 daughter of Lady Ripley " Dora," and '* dear Dora." 
 She stood far below this latter in stature, though above 
 middle height ; but there was a fairy grace, lightness, 
 and exquisite beauty about her, even his far-travelled 
 eye had never before seen equalled ; and when she 
 smiled, or laughed with her light, joyous, modulated 
 laugh, the face lit up so strangely bright, that she looked 
 like some inspired spirit. 
 
 When a man or woman tries to be pleasant, he or 
 she generally, not always, is constrained, and seen to dis- 
 advantage. What with her beauty, the surprise of the 
 meeting, and curiosity about her. Lord Randolph, never 
 too brilliant, became do^vnright enigmatical in speech, 
 which, together with her embarrassment, so annoyed 
 Lady Dora, that, hastily turning, she said — 
 
 " It is later than I imagined ; let us return."
 
 MILES TREMENHERE 289 
 
 " Return !" thought he ; " but whither ? I would give 
 worlds to know. Oh ! I shall find out ; doubtless she 
 ^^dll often accompany Lady Dora; 'tis some young 
 friend, not 'out' yet. Shall I escort you?" he 
 asked, after handing them to the brougham. 
 
 " 'Tis useless — I thank you," answered Lady Dora, 
 coldly ; " we have a call to make."" He bowed, and 
 they drove off. He sat round on his horse, watching 
 them out of sight ; politeness forbade his following. It 
 was an immense relief to his half-affianced wife when 
 tJiey drove oiF; every instant she had dreaded to hear 
 Minnie talk of ^liles : he was ever on her lip. But 
 though much pained and astonished at first at the un- 
 truth Dora had told; afterwards, though still reprehend- 
 ing it, she felt assiu-ed her cousin had done it for some 
 good motive, so she held her tongue about her husband, 
 ^liss Dalzell coidd not acknowledge one. 
 
 " I thought it better to say you were a Mss Dalzell," 
 said Lady Dora ; " men are so inquisitive. Who would 
 have dreamed of meeting Lord Randolph in Kensing- 
 ton Gardens ? It was a fatahty ; I thought him still at 
 Uplands." 
 
 " He said he was only in town for a day," suggested 
 her cousin. 
 
 " So much the better ; he will forget all about you, 
 and no one will know you by that name, unless 
 
 indeed " She paused, looking greatly annoyed, 
 
 as Dalby and Marmaduke Burton crossed her mind. 
 Minnie questioned her; but turning the subject, they 
 conversed about something else until they reached 
 
 VOL. L U
 
 290 MILES TREMENHEKE. 
 
 home. Lady Dora had taken the precaution of ascer- 
 taining whether they were followed. Minnie could not 
 prevail upon her to remain ; she left her complimenti? 
 for Tremenhere, and promised her delighted cousin to 
 return again soon. Lord Randolph had been found on 
 that road not without motive ; he was going to Tre- 
 menhere's cottage on an excuse, intending to see the 
 reputed beauty, if possible. After the meeting with 
 Minnie, he changed his mind : " I will not go to-day," 
 he thought ; " I shall be disgusted with any woman 1 
 coidd possibly see, after this beautiful girl. I must find 
 out who she is ; she realized all one'^s ideas of a fairy." 
 Thus thinking, he turned his horse homewards. 
 
 When Tremenhere returned to his cottage, he was 
 assailed by a variety of feelings on hearing the events 
 which had occurred during his absence. Of Lady 
 Dora's coming, he was pleased ; it gratified ^linnie, but 
 he would rather it had been done with her mother's cog- 
 nizance, and in her company. There was something 
 galling in this secret visit, but he forbore to say so to his 
 little wife, she looked so joyous and happy; not one 
 word of annoyance that her cousin had so long de- 
 ferred it, not a harsh thought for even her aunt. All 
 was forojiveness and sunshine in her sweet face. 
 
 " Verily, ^linnie," said her enraptured husband, bend- 
 ing his fine eyes in fondest love upon her, " you are not 
 fit for this cold world ; you must live on a sunbeam, 
 dearest, and be enwrapped at eve in the gorgeous clouds 
 fringed with gold, in which the day-god sinks to rest." 
 
 " No, Miles," she answered laughing, her whole bright
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 291 
 
 soul in his face, robed in smiles and dimples; ^' you shall 
 be the day-god, rising at peep of day, higher and higher 
 until you arrive at meridian splendour, and then I will 
 be the dial to mark your course, and live in your rays." 
 
 " I will accept that position, darling, for then I shall 
 know you only live by my light. Minnie, ^linnie, it 
 would kill me to think any one even approached your 
 heart, where I must reign alone ! " 
 
 " How could that ever be possible ?" she said, fondling 
 his hand in both her own, and then kissing it ahnost 
 with reverence. 
 
 " Now, tell me all about your drive," he inquired after 
 a pause. Minnie had reserved this for the last; somehow 
 her woman's uneriing wit told even her unsophisticated 
 natirre, that it would pain Miles, and it grieved her so 
 much to see a cloud on his brow. Even with this fore- 
 sight, she was ill prepared for the annoyance which 
 assailed him; he was most indignant at Lady Dora's in- 
 troducing Minnie as ^liss Dalzell. " In your position," 
 he cried, " she should have been doubly guarded ; better 
 not have named you at all, and to Lord Randolph Gray, 
 of all persons, I am sorely perplexed how to act." 
 
 She tried as much as possible to soothe him, but there 
 was a sting in his heart — a sting of anticipated trouble 
 arising out of this. He knew Lord Randolph so well, 
 tliat he felt convinced he would seek every possible 
 means of discovering who Minnie was : she was not a 
 creature to be passed in a crowd — ber beauty was too 
 rare and remarkable. He thought at first of seeking him, 
 and confiding the truth to him and his honour for
 
 292 MILES TREMENnEKE. 
 
 secresy. Well would it have been had he done so ; this 
 would have sho^VTi the affair, when well explained, in a 
 different liirht to the one in which the other now viewed 
 it. Had he known Marmaduke Burton and Dalby were 
 guests at Uplands, he would not have hesitated; but in 
 ignorance of much, he at last grew calmer imder the 
 erroneous idea that perhaps Lord Randolph would think 
 no more about her; besides, how could he trace her — how 
 hear any thing of her ? And, to crovm all, he knew the 
 other was leaving England on a tour in a month ; so 
 he resolved to let matters take their natural course, and, 
 comforted by ^linnie's assurance that his Lordship had 
 not followed them, he dropped the subject, on her 
 promising to go out no more with Lady Dora, at present. 
 
 Poor Trcmenhere little imagined how much Lord 
 Randolph really thought of Minnie; that evening he 
 called at Lady Ripley's, and to his surprise was requested 
 to enter a boudoir solely belonging to Lady Dora, where 
 even he had seldom been admitted. Pie found her sitting 
 alone, evidently awaiting his arrival. 
 
 " Lord Randolph," she said with more cordiality than 
 was usual on her part, " I have a favom' to soUcit at 
 your hands." 
 
 " At mine ?" he said, gallantly kissing the fiir one 
 she extended towards him. " Thus let me thank the 
 lovely messenger pleading to its companions. I shall 
 indeed esteem myself happy in obliging you in any way.** 
 
 " Thank you. Will you then do so by not naming 
 to my mother, or indeed any one, our rencounter to-day ? 
 I mean so far as regards Miss "
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 293 
 
 "^liss Dalzell?" he interrupted her in increased sur- 
 prise. 
 
 *' I see YOU have a retentive memory," she answered, 
 with slight annoyance. She had hesitated at the name, 
 hoping he might have forgotten it. " The fact is, for 
 tlie present, I do not wish even my mother to know that 
 I have seen jMiss Dalzell." 
 
 "Is the fair lady some fauy, destined to take the 
 whole world by sm'j^rise, in an unexpected, unannounced 
 debut shortly?" he asked. 
 
 " Decidedly not," she replied, vexed at the evident 
 interest he displayed; not from jealousy of the man, but 
 fear, lest this interest might lead to research. " ^liss 
 Dalzell," she continued, " vn)\ be shortly leaving town for 
 the Continent vAih. her — friends." 
 
 " Indeed ! 'tis a pity ; she woidd have been a constel- 
 lation of the highest order in our spherical circle, where 
 so few beauties are seen, next season." 
 
 " She seems to have captivated you, Lord Eandolph." 
 
 " Captivated I no, my heart is not free," and he bowed 
 conventionally to the fair speaker ; " but I thought her 
 of rare beauty. By Heavens !" he exclaimed, as a sud- 
 den idea struck him, "that dilatory fellow, Tremenhere, 
 complains that he cannot meet with a model for his 
 'Aurora' — I vA^h. he could see !Miss Dalzell ! I wonder 
 whether she would sit to him? Pray, ask her, dear 
 Lady Dora : does she live in toTVTi ? I'll speak to Tre- 
 menhere about it." He was forgetting every thing she 
 had been asking him. Lady Dora felt di'eadfuUy em- 
 barrassed — her colour rose.
 
 294 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 " Pray," she cried, " my lord, do not do a thing which 
 would pain and annoy me excessively. I have requested 
 you to forget all about ^liss Dalzell, and you talk of her 
 sitting for some foolish picture, and of all men on earth 
 to ^Ir. Tremenhere." 
 
 Her last words awoke other thoughts in his mind. " I 
 am very forgetful," he answered. " Rest assured. Lady 
 Dora, no one shall hear her name or the meeting from 
 me ; but may I in return ask, why less to Mr. Tremen- 
 here than any other person?" 
 
 " Oh !" she answered, evasively, " artists will dare any 
 thing for a face which exactly meets their wants and 
 wishes. I particularly desire all which passed to-day, 
 forgotten by you." 
 
 " You shall be obeyed." 
 
 " Some day possibly, you may know all ; 'tis now a 
 most painful mystery." 
 
 " You may rely upon me," he replied. " And now, 
 may I ask, as one much interested in you. Lady Dora, 
 have you not recently met Mr. Tremenhere in the coun- 
 try? I do not mean at Uplands — in Yorkshire?" 
 
 In an instant her face became extremely pale, even to 
 the lips, which quivered ; then indignant pride at his 
 (questioning drove back the blood in flushing bounds. 
 " Pardon me, my lord, I do not see the right you have 
 to question. I w^as in Yorkshire with my mother." 
 
 " I too crave pardon," he replied, " for presuming too 
 much on hopes for the ftiture. I see you did meet 
 him; the rest is no stranger to my knowledge — I am 
 satisfied."
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 295 
 
 There was a calm dignity about him which she had 
 never before seen. She would have given worlds to 
 know what he alluded to — what he had heard. But she 
 durst not do so, even her pride scarcely restrained her from 
 questioning ; her mind was in a complete maze of fears. 
 What could he mean ? Individually, his opinion wa^ 
 of not the slightest importance to her, but, as transmitted 
 perhaps by him to the world, it was altogether different; 
 yet what could she say ? Already she felt humbled at 
 havinoj been forced to ask so OTeat a favoiu* as silence 
 from him ; what was still more remarkable in this inter- 
 view was, that he made no attempt whatever, beyond 
 the most commonplace gallantry, to hint at his own 
 suit, he seemed absorbed in other thoughts, and these 
 were occasioned by her painfld confusion at the mention 
 of Tremenhere's name ; and a bitter feeling in conse- 
 quence arose in his mind against him, for his supposed 
 impertinent presumption. There was a silence of a few 
 minutes, broken at last by her coldly saying, " I believe 
 we may now abridge this meeting. Lord Randolph — I 
 have your promise of silence. You proposed visiting 
 my mother, I think? Allow me to have you announced. 
 I will rejoin you in the dramng-room shortly." So 
 saying, she rang the bell. 
 
 " You may rely upon my discretion," he said, partially 
 recovenng himself. "And we will leave all to old Time, he 
 imravels wonders and mysteries ; you will not deprive me 
 a long time of the pleasure of your society ?" 
 
 She merely bowed, and smiled constrainedly as the 
 servant followed him to the drawing-room, and an-
 
 296 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 nounced him to Lady Eipley, who little unagined all 
 the events of that day. 
 
 Man is a changeable, versatile animal, ever forgetful 
 of the old for the new, more perfectly comprehending 
 the fable of " sour grapes," than any other. 
 
 '' I dare say," said Lord Randolph to himself next 
 day, "that this very mysterious Miss Dalzell would not 
 have proved half so pretty on second sight; there must 
 be something strange about her, or why this mystery ? 
 There are days our eyes create beauty every where — 
 yesterday was doubtless one of these ; w^ere she really 
 so lovely, and a friend of Lady Dora's, some one must 
 Imve seen and spoken of her, whereas I never heard the 
 name even in my life until yesterday. Tliat fellow 
 Tremenhere," he continued after a thoughtful pause, " I 
 should like to be revenged on his insolence; it wont do 
 to cut him without an excuse, he has given me none, 
 and he is a favourite in many circles where these artists 
 hold a certain sway. I always thought it bad taste to 
 give them too much liberty, and the event proves my 
 just judgment." It will be seen that Lord Randolph 
 was rather arriere in the more genial liberality of opi- 
 nion, generally prevalent. He was of the Lady Dora 
 school, which fosters absurd prejudices and deformities 
 of mind, in the shape of circumscribing and false pride, 
 reminding one of a village, somewhere in the Landes, 
 whose inhabitants are all from birth afflicted with 
 goitres, which hideous swelling of the throat becomes 
 from habit a beauty in their eyes ; so much so, that 'tis 
 told of them, that one day a healthy person appearing
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 297 
 
 araonor them in chiirch, their minister bade them thank 
 God they were as they were, and not hke that afflicted 
 creature before them ! 
 
 Lord Eandolph's pride was in arms against the pain- 
 ter fellow, who had dared raise a thought, as he ima- 
 gined, towards Lady Dora ; it was not from any 
 excessive love for her, but adherence to caste. In 
 her confiision, though it puzzled him at first, he finally 
 thought he read only indignation, and he awarded to 
 himself the right, to lower his presumption in some 
 way. ^Aliat fools we are to undertake perilous journeys 
 in the dark ! 
 
 The new idea banished the old : he almost for- 
 got ]\Iiss Dalzell, and resolved to go whither he had 
 been croino: vesterdav, as he mounted his horse next 
 morning — a fashionable moiTung — about two o'clock; so 
 he turned his horse's head towards Chiswick, where he 
 knew Tremenhere resided. He had never had occasion 
 to call there before, having always met him either at his 
 club, in society, or his otsti (Lord Eandolph's) house. 
 He was not quite certain of the cottage, but he inquired, 
 and at last a pretty little villa was pointed out to him 
 a^ the one he souo'ht. 
 
 '• I think the gentleman is not at home," said his in- 
 fonnant, who looked hke a tradesman; " for I know him 
 well, and I saw him walking towards town an hour 
 ago." 
 
 This suited the other's views exactly ; so, leaving his 
 horse in charge of a man who was loitering about, he 
 walked quietly up to the cottage. The front gate stood
 
 298 MILES TREMENHEIIE. 
 
 open; he walked through a prettily arranged garden, 
 filled with autumnal flowers, to the hall door, and 
 rapped gently. He came, like a good general, to sur- 
 prise, not storm the capital. A neat-looking girl 
 answered the door. "Is Mr. Tremenhere at home?" 
 inquired the visiter. 
 
 " No, sir," was the reply. " He will not return till 
 this evenins:." 
 
 "Very provoking!" exclaimed he; "I am leaving 
 town, and wished particularly to leave a message, or 
 see him." 
 
 The girl made no reply ; she was not evidently ac- 
 customed to see many visiters there. 
 
 " Could I see any one to leave it with, or write a 
 note ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you would please to step in, sir ; I dare say you 
 can write to master," she said, drawing back. Lord 
 Randolph wanted no further invitation. In an instant 
 he was following the girl down the passage.
 
 MILES TREMENHERE, 291^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The girl threw open a door, and he entered ; his 
 heart was not quite free from pulsation. He was not a 
 man of adventure by nature — two or three motives urged 
 him to this one. The room was quietly, but gracefully 
 furnished ; the curtains Avere not of rich damask, neither 
 were there rich bronzes, ormolu^ or tables to break 
 one's neck over, or shiver to atoms in the fall thereof 
 half a dozen hideous idols, or Chinese cups and saucers — 
 no ! it was not a company receiving-room, but the apart- 
 ment of a refined and domestic mind. The two generally 
 unite, for they emanate from our best mistress — Nature. 
 The curtains and furniture were of pale green chintz. 
 There were a few choice flowers in a vase on the table ; 
 one single dahlia, rich in colour, alone, like a queen in 
 state and beauty, in a rich Bohemian glass, on a centre 
 table ; and, like attendant courtiers, in various smaller 
 ones, were varied specimens scattered about amidst 
 books, pencils, half-finished bouquets, shewing why they 
 were there — for art to perpetuate nature. There were 
 ottomans, easy-chairs, and ladies' work ; in short, home 
 spoke to you in every thing. There was an open piano, 
 and music scattered about ; and the tables, piano, even
 
 300 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 to the frames of the mirrors, were of maple-wood. An- 
 other door opened into a small conservatory with stained 
 glass windows — it was, in truth, a little paradise. A 
 cheering fire enlivened the whole — for though a fine day, 
 it was chilly; yet the sun shone without, and in the 
 bright conservatory, where summer seemed still to reign. 
 " You can write a note here, sir, if you please," said the 
 woman, placing materials before him ; " and when you 
 have finished it, if you will be good enough to ring the 
 bell, I will return." Thus saying, and not having a fear 
 of those adventurous knights called London thieves be- 
 fore her eyes, she withdrew quietly. Every thing there 
 breathed peace, even the placid servant. 
 
 "What shall I vnrite ?" thought Lord Eandolph. 
 " What a fool I was, not to ask to see the mistress of the 
 house! it is not too late; by George, I'll do so now !" 
 He rose to touch the bell, a voice arrested his hand ; it 
 was breathless, as if the owner had hurried ; it came 
 through the conservatory, and a step, like a bounding 
 roe, accompanied it. "Miles, dear!" it cried, "have 
 you forgotten any thing ? I heard your rap. I was at 
 tlie end of the garden gathering violets," — the step stopped 
 suddenly, "Oh, dear!" exclaimed the voice changing 
 its tone, "I declare I've lost them all out of my basket, 
 hurrying to meet you ! Come, and help me pick them up!" 
 There was an instant's silence, the visiter stood irresolute, 
 his eyes fixed on the conservatory door. " j\Iiles !" called 
 the voice again ; there was no reply, and in another 
 instant Minnie, with eyes full of hope and surprise, 
 entered the room. A scream burst from her lips, and
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 301 
 
 her basket fell from her hands. Lord Randolph stood a 
 moment speecliless. " ^liss Dalzell !" he exclaimed at 
 last, advancing like one treading on foiry-land, so amazed 
 he felt. ^Minnie was like a rose when she entered, and 
 her eyes looked almost black in their violet darkness 
 from exercise and excitement. Now she became pale 
 and trembling, why, she scarcely knew, 'twas perhaps 
 presentiment. "Lord Randolph Gray!" she ejaculated, 
 ^ you here !" — the very words implied deep fear of con- 
 sequences. 
 
 "I certainly did not anticipate the happiness of 
 meeting one so soon again, whose memory has lived 
 with me unfading since yesterday," he answered ^^-ith 
 tlie ready gallantry of a man who deemed it could not 
 but be well received where he addressed it. There was 
 admiration, not respect in the phrase. Even unsophisti- 
 cated ^linnie felt this ; but so bewildered was she, that 
 for the time she totally overlooked her actual position 
 as it must be in his eyes, thus, \A\h Tremenhere, as 
 Miss Dalzell. " Do not let me alarm you," he con- 
 tinued courteously, seeing how pale she had turned; 
 " believe me, I am too much a gentleman in any way 
 to insult you. My meeting you again, though indeed 
 I bless the good fate which has produced it, has been 
 purely accidental. I came to see ]Mr. Tremenhere." 
 
 " Then, my " she checked the word uppermost, 
 
 " cousin," scarcely kno^\dng why, "Lady DoraYaughan," 
 she substituted, "did not tell you where I resided? 
 I thought so for a moment, and wondered much, she
 
 302 MILES TREMEXIIERK. 
 
 was so fearful yesterday, lest your lordship should follow 
 
 us." 
 
 "What can the connection between these women 
 mean?" he thought, every moment more pcrplexecL 
 ^' Lady Dora is, I know, a girl of independent mind : ilias 
 she kno\\Ti this girl before her fall, and is she trying to 
 reclaim her ? If so, why Avalk in public with her ? Or, 
 has she been sitting to this Tremenhere for a portrait, 
 and been brought in contact with this girl, and, charmed 
 by her manner, overlooked her position ? But — oh no, 
 no ! — Lady Dora would never act thus." It never struck 
 him for an instant, the truth — Minnie's marriage; the 
 " Miss Dalzell," and confusion of Lady Dora, completely 
 refuted this idea. 
 
 " Lady Dora," he answered, smiling more composed!}^, 
 now resolved to leave thought to absence, and enjoy the 
 present pleasure of this unforeseen good-luck^ "is totally 
 ignorant of my purposed visit here, which was designed 
 for Mr. Tremenhere on business." 
 
 Minnie, too, was gradually becoming more composed, 
 now his visit had so natural a motive; she glided to an 
 ottoman, and, pointing to a chair, apologised for her 
 previous rudeness in omitting to oiFer one, and blaming 
 her astonishment as cause of the remissness. ISIinnie 
 was guiltless of wrong any way; so, as a friend of both her 
 cousin and Miles, she conversed freely witli her guest, whose 
 admiration every moment became more decided, and, 
 in proportion, a species of mixed jealousy and dislike 
 towards Tremenhere, both for possessing such a treasure, 
 and the base means by wliich he had gained it — seduc-
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 303 
 
 tion. For, with all his love of the fair sex, this was 
 a crime in his eyes he would have scorned. Poor 
 Minnie forgot, in her own innocence, all about her 
 equivocal position, and he of course did not aEude 
 to it. He spoke of Tremenhere, and she replied 
 unreservedly as of her husband; but without naming 
 him as such. Lord Randolph did her justice in one 
 respect; he saw she was too simple in mind, and, 
 strange contradiction ! too pure in thought, to be easily 
 made comprehend any thing like ordinary flirtation. He, 
 as a man of the world, though not a genius, at once per- 
 ceived that it would only be by gaining her affections 
 she might be won. He deemed it almost an act of jus- 
 tice to ^^Tong the ^vronger ; he woidd haAC gloried in it I 
 Lord Randolph w^as one of the many : he possessed the 
 genuine code of w^orldly morality — not a very safe bark 
 to sail to the end of hfe in. Much he said to her which 
 she coidd not comprehend ; but he was Miles's friend, 
 so she accepted his words as meant in mere friendship. 
 He coidd make himself agreeable w^hen he pleased ; and 
 she rejoiced in the meeting, hoping he would often call 
 and see Miles, w^ho must like him ; she knew they were 
 friends. Something of this she permitted him to under- 
 stand. 
 
 *'I fear," he said, abstaining from giving her any 
 name, " Tremenhere, though a friend of mme, may not 
 approve of my visits here ; he has so sedulously con- 
 cealed his happiness from all." 
 
 "Oh!" she answered, "that was on account of unfor-
 
 304 MILES TREMEXHERE. 
 
 tunate family affairs, which oblige us to live secluded ; 
 but I hope soon all will be cleared away of annoyance — 
 all forgiven — and then we may summon our friends to 
 rejoice with us." 
 
 There was somethino; so artless in her manner, that 
 he involuntarily seized her hand, and said in all sincerity, 
 "From my soid I hope so, for your sake !" 
 
 At that moment he would have made any effort to 
 restore an evidently innocent girl at heart, to a different 
 position ; his only wonder was, the longer he conversed 
 with her, how she could ever have fallen ; and eveiy in- 
 stant his impatience and disgust towards Tremenhere 
 grew stronger. And he looked mth indignant feelings 
 on the presumption of the man who could, as he deemed 
 he did, trample on this lovely girl as a being beneath 
 him, too much so to share his name. How falsely we 
 may judge others! and a wrong judgment is parent of 
 many errors. At last he rose to leave ; he durst not 
 then prolong his visit. As he did so, Minnie inquired, 
 "What message she should give Tremenhere?" 
 
 " I think," he replied, " it were better not to name 
 my visit, if I may presume to dictate to you." 
 
 "But," she said, smiling in all confidence, "you came 
 to see him." 
 
 " True ; but I did not anticipate the extreme pleasure 
 of meeting you. He might be displeased." 
 
 *' Oh, no !" she answered in her former tone, ^^ it cannot 
 annoy him. I feared so at first, as he wishes me not to 
 see, or be seen, at present ; but when I tell him how
 
 MILES TEEMEXHERE. 305 
 
 your lordship came, lie will see it coiild not have been 
 avoided. Besides, I told him of Lady Dora's introduc- 
 tion, and our all walking together yesterday." 
 
 "And what did he say?" asked the other, wakino- 
 from surprise to surprise. 
 
 "Miles was very much annoyed with Lady Dora ; he 
 said, as a person experienced in the world's opinions, she 
 
 ought not to have presented me to you, because " 
 
 She stopped, and coloured deeply, feeling it too delicate 
 a subject to enter upon with a stranger. She had been 
 so accustomed to speak of, hear of Lord Randolph 
 as Dora's future husband, that he had seemed as already 
 a cousin to her, though, in point of feet, almost a 
 stranger. Poor Minnie had much worldly resers'e to 
 learn ; besides, she was speaking as she knew herself, 
 not as he suspected her; and there was nothing to 
 awaken her rudely in liis manner. She was as a som- 
 nambulist, speaking in her sleep, to the wakeM. 
 
 "Let me beg of you not to teU Tremenhere," he 
 earnestly asked. 
 
 " I never conceal a thought from him," was her reply ; 
 " how pass an hour with him, and keep a secret in my 
 heart? I should suffocate with the weight of it alone." 
 
 '' I think I IvQow Tremenhere better than even you 
 can. Women rarely know men, as their friends read 
 them; for your own sake, let me earnestly entreat secresy 
 this once." 
 
 His earnestness made her tremble, and become serious. 
 " I do not comprehend your lordship," she said with dig- 
 nity; "have I done wrong in conversing freely ^vith you?" 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 " Good heavens ! no ; I trust we may often thus con- 
 
 verse aecain." 
 
 "Then I shall tell Miles as soon as he returns; he 
 cannot but approve my receiving his friends mth what 
 courtesy I am mistress of If I have been wanting in due 
 reserve, my lord may excuse it— I am but a country 
 bred girl." 
 
 "But the most charming one I ever met !" he warmly 
 exclaimed, endeavouring to seize her hand; but Minnie's 
 delicacy had taken the alarm, she drew back, and, laying 
 her hand on the beU, said quietly — 
 
 "Your lordship has no message to leave?" 
 
 "None," he answered, slightly disconcerted by her 
 sudden reserve— "I cannot think of troubhng you; I will 
 
 write." 
 
 The bell sounded beneath her fingers ; with perfect 
 
 composure she curtsied. He durst not again attempt to 
 
 take her hand, and he followed the serious maid to the 
 
 outer gate; there he turned, but no eye was watching 
 
 him, for Minnie had sunk on a seat, and was lost in 
 
 memory, not of the most agreeable sort, of many strange 
 
 things her visiter had said, which created an unpleasant 
 
 sensation, and yet she could not teU where, or why. 
 
 Lord Eandolph rode on in perplexed imaginings, too ; 
 
 she had left an impression on his mind of pleasure and 
 
 pain. The former, that irresistible feeUng we experience 
 
 when gazing upon either a lovely face, or lovely picture. 
 
 The latter, was sorrow that so fair a shrine shoidd be 
 
 desecrated; for, though a man of the world, he was no 
 
 libertine. He would rather at any time save a woman than
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 307 
 
 lose her. If he found her lost, irretrievably so, he followed 
 the current of worldly recklessness, and left moralizing 
 to a more fitting occasion. Nothing could have per- 
 suaded him that this girl had voluntarily chosen a life 
 of degradation — some arts, some entrapment, must have 
 been used ; and with these thoughts in his mind he 
 turned into Loundes Square, intending to call upon Lady 
 Dora. As he turned the comer of a street leading into it, 
 her ladyship's brougham passed him rapidly; the blinds 
 were half drawn down, as if she wished to avoid recog- 
 nition, and she herself was leaning back, reading a letter 
 attentively. Evidently he had not been noticed ; for a 
 moment he hesitated, and then, turning round, cantered 
 after her. Her groom drove on, however, at a rapid 
 pace, and Lord Eandolph followed. " TVTien she stops," 
 he said to himself, " I'll join her ; she may be induced, 
 perhaps, to tell me more about this unhappy girl." 
 But Lady Dora did not stop; and what at first 
 had been done unpremeditatedly, now became a 
 sort of link in the mystery of the last two days. 
 Where could she be going alone at that rapid 
 pace? Overtake her he could not, without calling to 
 her groom ; so he followed about twenty yards behind. 
 At the corner of Charles Street, Soho, there was a 
 stoppage of carriages; hers passed, but his horse, being 
 rather spirited, made some demur before a coal-waggon ; 
 and, when he reached the square, it was just in time to 
 see Lady Dora enter the bazaar hastily, with her veil 
 down. To dismount, and leave his horse in a man's 
 care, occupied a few minutes more ; then he too entered,
 
 308 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 with no idea but one — of finding her ladyship occupied 
 in shopping ; and he deemed himself very fortunate in 
 having so excellent an opportunity of conversing with 
 her. 
 
 We have said Lady Dora was reading a letter 
 when Lord Randolph first saw her; we will give its 
 contents to our readers ; she had received it by a mes- 
 senger an hour before. 
 
 " Mr. Tremenhere presents his compliments to Lady 
 Dora Vaughan ; and though he would not presume to 
 intrude thus for any merely personal business, yet as 
 the husband of one allied so closely to Lady Dora, he 
 ventures to solicit half an hour's conversation about 
 Minnie, and the most unpleasant affair of yesterday. He 
 dare not venture to intrude in Loundes Square, but at 
 three precisely, he will be in the Soho Bazaar ; and un- 
 der these circumstances, hopes her ladyship will favour 
 him, where one dear to her is so nearly concerned." 
 
 When Lord Randolph entered, it was to see Lady 
 Dora and Miles Tremenhere composedly ascending the 
 stairs together — not arm in arm, but in close converse. 
 To turn, and bolt out of the bazaar, were the acts of an 
 instant — ^he was too proud to become a spy on their ac- 
 tions : that they had met by appointment Avas evident. 
 In a greater state of excitement than before, he mounted 
 his horse, and, riding to the opposite side of the square, 
 watched the door. Nearly half an hour elapsed, and 
 then she came out hurriedly alone, stepped in, and off 
 drove the brougham again at a quick pace. Two minutes 
 afterwards Tremenhere came out; and, with eyes bent on
 
 MILES TREMENHERE. 309 
 
 the ground in deep thought, turned through Charles 
 into Oxford Street. There is a natural envy in our hearts, 
 which makes us feel less kindly towards one superior to 
 ourselves in every way, than we should to one inferior; 
 and were we judging between the two, assuredly we 
 would rather find a guilty flaw in the one than the other. 
 Though liking Tremenhere, Lord Randolph at once con- 
 demned him as every thing that was bad ; and deemed 
 himself of wonderful perspicacity in reading the intricate 
 book before his mind's eye, thus : — By his power of fasci- 
 nation and good looks, he had entangled both these 
 women. (Dalby had given him the clue.) ]\Iinnie he had 
 lost, and by some inconceivable means, drawn the proud 
 Lady Dora into an acquaintance with her; and now hewas 
 endeavouring, and from their private meeting it would 
 seem successfully, to accomplish some further end — mar- 
 riage, of course — with a woman too much in love, perhaps, 
 to resist him. How else could he account for the events 
 before him ? With all this in his mind, is it to be won- 
 dered at that he felt the utmost disgust for Tremenhere? 
 How to act he knew not. As to quietly allowing these 
 events to take their present course, that was impossible 
 — ^whom consult ? Not Burton — he did not like the 
 man ; nor Dalby — no creature — but a friend. So he 
 went off, and sought his young friend whom we have 
 seen at Uplands — the unfledged youth, whom we will 
 call Mr. Vellumy ; and between them the two concoct- 
 ed as fatal a scheme as they could well have imagined ; 
 and done, like many such another, with the best inten- 
 tion ; for Mr. Vellumy, like his friend, would rather do a 
 
 x2
 
 310 MILES TREMENHERE. 
 
 good than a bad action — not that he was one to repent 
 in sackcloth and ashes if* he accomplished a criminal one 
 by accident. He was " a good-intention" embodied, 
 and stuck like a crow on the top of a weathercock. 
 He and Lord Randolph being bosom friends, had ran 
 up together for two or three days from Uplands, leaving 
 the remaining guests at Liberty Hall to take care of 
 themselves — bachelor sans ceremonie. We will leave 
 them awhile and follow Lady Dora, whose brougham 
 spun, in a short space like thought, down to Chiswick, 
 and stopped at Tremenhere's gate. He had, of course, 
 not returned. Minnie could scarce credit the evidence 
 of her eyes when she saw her cousin step out. 
 
 "It is so kind — so very kind, dear Dora!" she ex- 
 claimed, embracing her, " to return so soon." 
 
 " I have but a few minutes to stay," answered the 
 other, " for mamma will wonder where I have been. But 
 that I am not much controlled, she might question and 
 scold; for 1 have been out some time, Minnie," she 
 added hastily. " Do you know with whom I have been 
 walking ? " 
 
 "I cannot guess, Dora." 
 
 " There — read that — and see I " and she laid on her knee 
 Miles's letter. Minnie coloured deeply, and like a vision 
 passed before her the recollection of their meeting at 
 Uplands, which he never mentioned. She was not jea- 
 lous ; but it was hke the sudden pain of a thorn, which 
 makes one wdnce and cry out — the flesh versus spirit ; 
 but when she read it, the spirit conquered at once. 
 
 " My dear husband," she said, " how he ever thinks of 
 me ! And what did he say, Dora?"
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 311 
 
 Dora then told her the substance of their conversa- 
 tion, and his entreaties that she should seek an inter- 
 view with Lord Randolph Gray, and tell him the truth 
 about his marriage, as it woidd come better from her 
 than from himself. If, however, she declined, he expressed 
 his determination to do so without delay, foreseeing 
 possibly future embaiTassments from this unfortunate 
 introduction. 
 
 " I argued against it," she said ; " but at last he con- 
 vinced me I had not acted prudently, and therefore, 
 though much against my feelings, I must explain all, 
 and bind his lordship to secresy. It is a most unfortu- 
 nate cu'cumstance altogether." 
 
 Lady Dora, though too kind, when she permitted her 
 heart sway, to pain any one Avilfully, was galled and 
 wounded deeply in her pride by all these events. 
 How to tell Lord Randolph she knew not ; and mtli 
 Tremenhere she admitted, it would better come from 
 herself than from him. " I shall probably see liim 
 to-night, or certainly to-morrow," she added, "and then 
 all shall be explained." 
 
 While she was speaking, Minnie had fallen into a 
 train of the most intense thought ; one com'sing another 
 through her brain. She was beginning to understand 
 much Randolph had said to her, and how tell Miles ? it 
 would pain him. However, it would soon be explained 
 to his lordship, and then all would go smootlily. Poor 
 Minnie ! 
 
 " Do you know, Dora," she said, looking up at last, 
 seriously, "Lord Randolph called here to-day?"
 
 312 MILES TREMENIIERE. 
 
 " Here ! " exclaimed her cousin, amazed. " Here ! 
 and how ? on what pretence ? did you see him ?" 
 
 There was not a gleam of jealousy in this questioning. 
 She cared little to lose him for ever ; it was his audacity, 
 and consequences she thought of. Minnie related every 
 thing which passed. Though but a girl herself, Lady 
 Dora was one of the world, and saw much more than 
 her simple cousin did in this visit. Bitterly she blamed 
 herself for her false step the previous day, in introducing 
 " Miss Dalzcll ; " now she indeed saw the necessity of an 
 explanation. 
 
 " Of course," she said, " you do not intend teUing ^Ir. 
 Tremenhere of this?" 
 
 "Not tell Mies!" exclaimed Minnie in surprise. 
 "How could I conceal it from him?" 
 
 " Minnie, you will be mad to do so ! " answered her 
 cousin, much agitated. " Mr. Tremenhere, in his excited 
 state, will see even more than was meant, and I will 
 answer for nothing." 
 
 "Truth, dear Dora, always carries its own shafts to the 
 heart. I cannot conceal any thing from Miles ; it would 
 kill me to do so. Where should I hide a secret from 
 him? he reads my very soul; 'tis ever open before 
 him." 
 
 " And do you wish, perhaps, for bloodshed ? I cannot 
 see where it will terminate. Pray, let me explain all to 
 his lordship first, then there can be nothing to fear." 
 
 Minnie justly argued, that Lord Randolph's -sdsit had 
 been made to her husband, not knowing she was even 
 there ; but Dora overruled this.
 
 MILES TREMEXHERE. 313 
 
 "^ir. Tremenhere," she said, "was in that excited 
 state when speaking of the possibility of insult to you, 
 that if he knoAV this to-day, he will be capable of any 
 tiling. Pray, ^Minnie ! — dear Minnie ! promise me the 
 secret until to-morrow evening ; I will come here then, 
 and tell Mr. Tremenhere myself, and he must acknow- 
 ledge I did right. He will applaud your good sense ; 
 whereas, if you tell, w^hat can control his rage before 
 then?" 
 
 Mnnie began crying. The idea to her, of conceal- 
 ment from ^liles, was so dreadful, that she could not for 
 a length of time overcome her repugnance ; but Dora so 
 forcibly impressed upon her mind the dread of a duel, 
 that in the certainty of its only being for one day, and 
 as no untruth, only silence, was required, she consented ; 
 and Lady Dora, embracing her cordially, with her own 
 handkerchief dried the tearful eyes, and left her, promis- 
 ing to return next evening, and in the meanwhile see 
 Lord Randolph, and disclose all to him. She had per- 
 fectly arranged it herself, as we often do events ; but 
 quite overlooked such a thing as fatahty. 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIRST. 
 
 M'COBQUODALE and CO., PKINTEK8, LONDON. 
 W0EK8, NEWTON.
 
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 BONE & 
 
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