L I E, R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 v.l
 
 CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS 
 
 rhe person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for Its return to the library from 
 which It was borrowed on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Il^'If J*?.""*'"'*' ?** ""^'•••""'"a of books ore reasons 
 
 z uX'.'lX'?' """ ^^"" '" -'*"'^-' '-- 
 
 TO RENEW CAll TELEPHONE CENTER, 333-8400 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILL.NOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPA.r.Ki 
 
 
 When renewing by phone, write new due date below 
 previous due date. Lj^2
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/graceleetale01kava
 
 GRACE LEE.
 
 The Author of this Work gives notice that she reserves the 
 right of translating it.
 
 GEACE LEE 
 
 a Eale. 
 
 JULIA KAYANAGH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "NATHALIE;" "WOMEN OF CHRISTIANITY:" ETC. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 65, COENHILL. 
 
 1855.
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR3.
 
 
 GRACE LEE. 
 
 «^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ The snow fell fast; soft^ wliite, and noiseless 
 
 T— 
 
 *^ it was borne past the parlour window. A gray 
 
 rH 
 
 >- skv, a white, hilly horizon bounded the out- 
 ward prospect. Within all was touched with 
 the red firelight : tables, chairs, cabinet, and 
 mirror gave back the same warm and burning 
 glow. 
 
 A gray-haired old man, with a harsh, sarcas- 
 tic face, sat writing by the window. A middle- 
 aged, good-tempered looking woman, sewed by 
 the fireside; further on, in the back-ground, 
 and half gloom of the room, a slender, dark>
 
 2 GRACE LEE. 
 
 haii^ed and dark-eyed girl of seventeen, sat on 
 a low stool, with a heavy quarto, a Hebrew 
 Bible, on her knees. One hand supported her 
 cheek; the other rested on the book; her eyes 
 were fixed on its strange eastern characters, 
 her long, drooping curls half veiled the page. 
 
 She was not, and never could be, pretty; 
 yet her dark face had warmth and character, 
 her eyes great beauty, and her young form 
 much grace. Her name was Grace Lee. She 
 was born far away, amongst Welsh hills, but 
 she was an orphan, and for two years she had 
 lived with her guardian, an old priest. Doctor 
 Crankey, and his cousin, Miss Amy Crankey, 
 in one of the wildest nooks of northern Eng-' 
 land. Doctor Crankey was a learned man ; Miss 
 Crankey was skilled in every art of the needle : 
 both zealously taught the young girl all they 
 knew, and thus an accomplished scholar and 
 as accomplished a needle-woman grew up Grace 
 Lee in a bleak and lonely home.
 
 GRACE LEE. 3 
 
 A gust of wind swept by the house ; it died far 
 away with a faint murmur on wild moors. The 
 young girl bent her ear and listened. " How 
 far that wind has come," she thought ; ^' how 
 far it must be going — how mde the world must 
 be." She put her book away; she left the 
 room; she went up to the highest part of the 
 house, a terrace on the roof. The snow fell 
 on her bare head ; the keen north wind blew 
 back her hair from her face, but her blood was 
 ardent and young j her cheek only freshened 
 to feel the blast, she only shook her head 
 and smiled at the falling snow. She looked 
 around her ; a wide, white plain spread to the 
 foot of white hills ; a pale sky met a paler 
 horizon; she clasped her hands on her bosom; 
 she raised herself on tiptoe; she stretched her 
 slender neck, and bent a keen, eagle look that 
 seemed as if it would pierce every barrier. 
 " Ah ! " she thought again, " how wide the 
 world must be ! " and seized with a wanderer^s 
 
 B 2
 
 4 GRACE LEE. 
 
 longing, she thought of burning Africa, of the 
 luxuriant New World, of fair southern Europe, 
 with the sun shining on her brown ruins, and the 
 blue Mediterranean washing her antique shores. 
 
 *' I wish I were a queen,^^ she thought, her 
 head pensively inclined towards her right shoul- 
 der, "but a queen without her state, without 
 her kingdom; what place, beautiful or famous, 
 v/ould I not see ! what delight should not ' be 
 mine ! I would do great things ; I would build 
 cathedrals; I would found hospitals; I would 
 erect palaces ; I would make a cardinal of Doctor 
 Crankey, a duchess of Miss Amy, a princess 
 of Lily. I would have more jewels than a 
 sultana, more robes than there are days in the 
 year; and withal I would be so generous and 
 so good, that every one should love and praise 
 Queen Grace.^^ 
 
 "Grace, my dear,^-" said the" gentle voice of 
 Miss Crankey, from below, "will you come 
 down and make the tea, if you please ? ''
 
 GRACE LEE. 5 
 
 The day-dreamer awoke^ and laugliing at 
 her own dreams, she ran down lightly; she 
 made the tea ; the frugal meal was soon over ; 
 she returned to her Hebrew; Doctor Crankey to 
 a seven years begun History of the Church; 
 Miss Amy to a Penelope piece of embroider}?-. 
 Quiet was the evening by the bright fireside ; 
 Grace did not feel it dull; study, too, has her 
 charm — a charm more true than that of dreams, 
 and almost as sweet. 
 
 Grace was, as we have said, an orphan. Two 
 years before there had been sorrow and mourn- 
 ing in a once happy home of the little town of 
 
 W , in Wales. Mr. George Lee lay dead 
 
 in his room, his wife slept in hers the same 
 deep sleep, and two orphans, in whom their 
 blood did not mingle, sat desolate and sorrow- 
 stricken children in the silent parlor. 
 
 They had loved in youth : fate, under the 
 shape of a^gry parents, divided them early ; 
 they yielded, parted with mutual consent, and
 
 6 GRACE LEE. 
 
 married happily elsewhere. When, after sixteen 
 years they met, they were both free. Mr. Lee 
 had an only child of fourteen, Mrs. Blount 
 a little girl of eleven ; their old love revived, 
 they married, enjoyed one year's late and brief 
 happiness, and died within one day of each 
 other; each ignorant of the other^s fate; 
 each bequeathing to the other's care his or her 
 child. 
 
 " Very distressing case,^' said Doctor Marsh, 
 who sat drinking brandy-and-water in a back 
 room, "and then what^s to become of the 
 orphans ? '' He addressed his assistant, John 
 Owen, a dark and saturnine-looking young man, 
 who sat opposite him with folded arms, and head ' 
 bent on his bosom. 
 
 " Cannot they be lawyers, like their fathers ? " 
 he replied. 
 
 " Lawyers ! Girls, lawyers ! " 
 
 " Oh ! they are girls, are they ? '^ 
 
 " Bless me, sir, have you been visiting Mr.
 
 GEACE LEE. 7 
 
 George Lee a year, and don^t you know whether 
 his children are boys or girls ? '' 
 
 '' I had not paid attention ! '' carelessly replied 
 , Owen. 
 
 " Well, but you can tell me what to do ? " 
 asked Doctor Marsh, to whom his young assistant 
 was in all doubtful matters as an oracle. 
 
 "Apply to the nearest relatives," was the 
 laconic answer. 
 
 " The Hashleighs? I suppose you know them." 
 
 '^ Mrs. Eashleigh is a worldly woman ; her son 
 is a fool, a libertine, and a pedant. We were at 
 school together ; he hates me — I despise him." 
 
 This was not promising ; nevertheless, Doctor 
 Marsh called on Mrs. Rashleigh, who resided in 
 
 W , and was distantly related to the late 
 
 Mrs. Lee. 
 
 "I must decline interfering," coldly replied 
 the lady, " Mrs. Lee^s second marriage had not 
 my approbation. It will be more proper, by far, 
 to apply to Miss Lee."
 
 8 GKACE LEE. 
 
 '^And pray give my compliments to Miss Lee's 
 dark-eyed young friend/' half yawned Eashleigli 
 E/aslileigli, who lolled on a sofa. When the Doctor 
 was gone^ he burst out laughing, and boisterously 
 wondered ''what Miss Lee would say to having 
 tjiat little yellow-haired monkey, Lily Blount, 
 palmed off on her/' 
 
 " My dear Rashleigh/' gravely said his mother, 
 " that does not concern us." 
 
 Miss Lee was very rich and very old. She lived 
 in a wild, yet lovely home, between the mountains 
 and the sea. Doctor Marsh found her sitting in her 
 chair, and chastising half-a-dozen unruly spaniels 
 with an ebon cratch. With her he found a 
 beautiful orphan girl, Margaret Livermere, whom 
 she had reared as her companion, and an elegant, 
 handsome man, Gerald Lee, the rich London 
 banker, her favourite cousin and future heir. 
 The Doctor asked to speak to Miss Lee alone; 
 Mr. Lee stepped out into the garden ; Miss Liver- 
 mere slipped away by a side door : a while after
 
 GRACE LEE. 9 
 
 the visitor saw them vanishing together behind a 
 group of trees. In the meanwhile, he explained 
 his errand. Miss Lee received him very rudely. 
 /'Sir/' she said shortly, "you are a meddling 
 man. Mr. Lee's daughter and Mr. Lee's pro- 
 perty are both confided to the care of a Doctor 
 Crankey, a priest, and third or fourth uncle of the 
 first Mrs. Lee, who was a Papist. I have nothing 
 to do with that little girl. As to the other one, 
 I am amazed at you. She belongs, by right, to 
 a mad-woman, called Miss Blount, who has an 
 eternal law-suit with the Walton Company, and 
 is to have blue and yellow livery when she wins 
 it. Another time, sir," she added, giving him 
 a hard look, " you will do well to think before 
 you act." 
 
 Rather abashed the Doctor withdrew ; he 
 found out the directions of Doctor Crankey, 
 and of Miss Blount, and wrote to both. 
 Accordingly, on the same day, and by the 
 same coach, arrived a short little old man in 
 
 B 3
 
 10 GRACE LEE. 
 
 a rusty cassock, and a tall gaunt lad}^ in shabby 
 mourning. Without knowing one another they 
 had quarrelled concerning a coach window which 
 Miss Blount persisted in opening, and the Rev. 
 Doctor Crankey persisted in shutting again. The 
 house soon became too hot to hold them. Miss 
 Blount was grand, and talked of the Walton 
 Company, which she was going to crush; and 
 of the blue and yellow liveries. Doctor Crankey 
 said " Fudge ! " and longed to be back to his 
 History of the Church, and his quiet home in 
 the North. To crown matters, Miss Blount took 
 a hearty dislike to Grace Lee, whom she called a 
 bold, black-eyed little thing ; and Doctor Crankey 
 as heartily disliked little Lily, in whose blue' 
 eyes he saw ingratitude written, and whose 
 eulogy he kindly summed up with the reflection, 
 "that Judas was fair-haired.^^ In short, peace 
 was not restored until the belligerent parties 
 went each his and her own way, bearing oflp his 
 and her ward as spolia opima.
 
 GEACE LEE. 11 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " piously said Doctor Marsh 
 to John Owen, on the morning of that day ; 
 " I never have been more distressed." 
 
 The young man smiled with lofty surprise, 
 more scornful than sympathetic, then returned 
 to the perusal of the heavy legal volumes 
 belonging to the late Mr. George Lee, and 
 which had found no purchaser in the pre- 
 ceding day's sale. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. John Owen," said a soft 
 voice at his elbow. 
 
 He looked up and saw a dark young girl 
 standing by his side. 
 
 " You do not remember me ? " she asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I am Grace — Grace Lee. I saw you 
 yesterday reading these books ; and before 
 yesterday, too. They are mine. When I am 
 twenty-one I shall give them to you. I lend 
 them to you until then. Doctor Crankey 
 says I may. Good-bye." And before the
 
 12 GRACE LEE. 
 
 surprised young man could reply she was 
 gone. 
 
 And now two years were passed^ and passion 
 and circumstance had scattered them all as the 
 winds of heaven scatter seed on the surface of 
 the soil^ each to bear fruit in its season. Doctor 
 
 Marsh alone remained in W . His assistant, 
 
 John Owen, had gone to London. There he 
 had no sooner taken his degrees as a surgeon 
 than he suddenly forsook medicine for the bar. 
 Mrs. Rashleigh was in Paris, patiently waiting 
 the return of her prodigal Rashleigh Rashleigh, 
 who had gone to Baden-Baden with a pretty 
 actress — his third or fourth affair of the kind. 
 The beautiful Margaret Livermere was disgraced ' 
 and banished; she had charmed too surely the 
 heir and cousin. Gerald Lee was hesitating 
 between love and mammon; Miss Lee was dying, 
 full of wrath and disappointment. Lily Blount 
 was in the south of England with Miss Blount ; 
 daily she heard of the Walton Company, and of
 
 GRACE LEE. 13 
 
 the blue and yellow liveries ; and daily she wished 
 herself dead ; and Grace, happy in her wild, 
 northern home, charmed her mind with classic 
 lore, Hebrew, and romantic dreams. 
 
 " Child,^^ said Doctor Crankey, seeing her 
 so assiduous, "you will get blind over that 
 Hebrew. Amuse yourself a little bit with the 
 golden-mouthed Saint John Chrysostom." 
 
 And he handed over to her the ponderous 
 Greek Father. At ten Miss Amy rose. 
 . " Grace,^^ she began, then paused. Grace 
 was fast asleep. Her arms were folded on the 
 broad volume open before her; her profane 
 girFs head crested on the hallowed page; it 
 was a favourite author, a rare and costly 
 edition, yet Doctor Crankey only smiled. 
 
 "You need not waken her,^^ he said. "I 
 want to speak to her as soon as I finish this 
 paragraph. ^^ 
 
 " Law ! Doctor, you surely will not blame 
 the poor child if she fell asleep.^^
 
 14 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " By no means," ^he interrupted ; " good 
 night, Miss Crankey/' 
 
 Miss Amy sighed and left the room. She 
 had once been young, and the gray Doctor too ; 
 and then they had been on the very verge of 
 love : but Miss Amy was capricious and John 
 Crankey was exacting; they parted coldly, he 
 to take priest^s orders, she to settle down into 
 a calm old maid. When they met again, years 
 had passed, and he could ask Miss Amy to 
 keep house for him, and she could accept the 
 office. Of the passages of their youth he 
 remembered nothing, she but a little and that 
 not often. 
 
 At length the paragraph was finished ; Doctor 
 Crankey turned to rouse the sleeper, and found 
 her reading over his shoulder. He only smiled. 
 
 "Well! what d^e say to that, Grace? That's 
 touch-me-not, eh ! " He rubbed his hands and 
 chuckled. "You see, my dear, monks are 
 very good people; but they live out of the
 
 GRACE LEE. ]5 
 
 worlds and I am an old man of the world, you 
 see. Bless you, child, I know all its tricks and 
 all its ways.^' 
 
 . Grace went round and sat down on the 
 hearth at his feet. 
 
 " What is it ? " she said. " You had some- 
 thing to say to me; I heard you. What 
 is it ? " 
 
 ^'So, Miss, you were pretending sleep.^' 
 
 "I was asleep, but your voice woke me. 
 What is it ? '' 
 
 "You have lost your third cousin and name- 
 sake. Miss Grace Lee — she is dead.^^ 
 
 "I do not remember her. Must I go into 
 mourning ? " 
 
 " She has made you her heir." 
 . " Ah ! Why so ? " quietly asked Grace. 
 
 "It was her fancy, and a woman's fancy is 
 her law. Her first will was in favour of her 
 other cousin, Gerald Lee, but he displeased 
 her/'
 
 16 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " How ? " interrupted Grace, in her direct 
 way. 
 
 "By marrying a lady, whom Miss Lee did 
 not like — a Miss Margaret Livermere.^' 
 
 " Are they married ? '' 
 
 " Not yet ; don't tease, child. What is it to 
 you if they are married or not ? Well, as I 
 was saying. Miss Lee thought proper to make 
 you her heir. She also thought proper- to 
 indite a letter, addressed to you, which you 
 alone are to read. Now I scorn a lie as I 
 scorn the devil, and what I think I say. My 
 candid opinion is, that the late Miss Lee was 
 cracked, and but that I rely on your judg- 
 ment and principles, Grace, this letter you' 
 should never see. I warn you to read it with 
 caution. Here it is.'' 
 
 He handed her a letter. Grace took it, broke 
 the seal, read a few lines, and looked thoughtful, 
 then slowly extending her hand, she dropped 
 the letter on the burning coals. A flame caught
 
 GEACE LEE. 17 
 
 and consumed it ; at once it shrivelled into a 
 black scroll. Doctor Crankey looked at her a 
 little anxiously ; but she said quietly : 
 . " There was nothing so wonderful in Miss 
 Lee^s letter; a trust and a request, no more. 
 
 " Nothing touching your religion — nothing 
 involving a principle of right or wrong.^^ 
 
 " No, indeed/^ replied Grace ; and looking up 
 at him archly, she laughed. 
 
 Doctor Crankey breathed, relieved; a week^s 
 anxiety had that sealed packet given him. He 
 laid his hand on the young girFs head, and 
 smoothing her dark hair, he said, " Child ! 
 why do not you ask the amount of your 
 inheritance ? ^' 
 
 " Because I can guess : a hundred a year or 
 so. Oh 1 I shall be quite an heiress ! ^^ 
 
 The priest bent his keen gray eyes on hers, 
 so soft and dark. 
 
 " Child,^^ he replied impressively, " Miss Lee 
 was rich ; she called yearly thousands her own.
 
 18 GKACE LEE. 
 
 No one knew or knows liow many. You are 
 now one of the wealthiest women in all 
 EnglancL^^ 
 
 The eyes of Grace opened ; her lips parted 
 with surprise. Doctor Crankey continued : 
 
 " God grant you may make a noble use of 
 your wealth : God grant you may never forget 
 gold is but dross in His sight.^^ 
 
 She did not reply, but sate mute and still at 
 his feet. 
 
 " Humph ! you take it coolly. I thought you 
 would jump with joy.^^ 
 
 " Jump ! " echoed Grace, with a start and a 
 look of offended dignity. ^'What for? It is 
 but money.^^ 
 
 Yet, even as she spoke, a bright red spot 
 burned on her cheek; her eyes shone with 
 strange light; and as she sat with her arms 
 clasped around her knees, she smiled. 
 
 "What are you thinking of?^^ asked Doctor 
 Crankey, who was watching her.
 
 GRACE LEE. 19 
 
 She looked up, and replied earnestly : " Doctor 
 Crankey, who was it that went to the oracle of 
 Delphi and chose the short and the glorious 
 life — Alexander or Achilles ?^^ 
 
 '^ Never mind, child/^ replied Doctor Crankey, 
 who would not confess that he did not remember. 
 
 '' ^Tis no matter/^ resumed Grace. " 1, too, 
 in thought, went to Delphi this very morning — 
 I, too, chose the short and sweet ; and, see, this 
 evening the oracle is fulfilled. ^^ 
 
 " Go to bed, child," interrupted Doctor 
 Crankey, " and let Delphi and all such heathenish 
 fancies alone ; go to bed like a good girl." 
 
 Grace gave her guardian a curious look ; but 
 she rose docile and obedient. She bade him 
 good-night, and went up to her own room, a 
 nun-like cell. There she sat down and leaned 
 her cheek upon her hand, absorbed in thought. 
 
 " Indeed, you have been to Delphi," whispered 
 a secret voice. " Yes, you, too, have done like 
 Alexander — " and, looking up, she replied.
 
 20 GRACE LEE, 
 
 smiling : " What matter ! one can put a whole 
 lifetime in a few years ; and better the quick 
 and delightful than the wearisome and the slow/^ 
 And throwing back her head^ like one resolved 
 to chase all troublesome thoughts away, she rose. 
 In a few minutes her prayers were said, and 
 her young head laid on her pillow was locked 
 in the slumbers fast and sound of seventeen.
 
 GEACE LEE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Who would not travel ? Who would not 
 feel strange suns ; behold new skies ; hear the 
 greeting of foreign speech, and pass a wanderer 
 amongst scenes beautiful and still ; amongst 
 nations living and moving,, yet left behind with 
 their passions, their contests, their hopes and 
 sorrows, like the images of a dream ? 
 
 Six years were past and gone. In a strange 
 place — in a strange land the dreaming girl, 
 who on a snowy day had wished herself a queen,' 
 read, as in a book, the vivid story of years of 
 wandering. She saw broad seas and circling 
 horizons ; a boat cutting through the green 
 biUows, and leaving its brilliant track behind; 
 
 N
 
 22 GRACE LEE. 
 
 long blue lines of coast glittering through white 
 mists ; open ports with shipping, with bronzed 
 sailors and fishermen, with all the life and all 
 the noise of commerce. Then came sunny plains 
 with their harvests, and brown peasant men and 
 women looking up by the dusty road, as the 
 carriage passed and vanished through scenes of 
 soft rural beauty, by green hills with hamlet, 
 church and churchyard, by calm valleys with 
 hidden streams softly flowing in cool evening 
 shadows. Then gay cities, all mirth and splendour, 
 followed ; then wild scenes, deep lakes sleeping 
 midst stern mountains, with fir-tree forests and 
 snowy brows, and sounding cataracts, above 
 which on broad wing the royal eagle flew 
 screaming. Then, past the mountain ranges, 
 past the wildness and grandeur of nature, spread 
 lands all light, all warmth and softness; lands 
 of poetry, art, and beauty, with ruined temples 
 and heroic battle-fields, now trodden by enslaved 
 races ; still farther and farther in the spreading
 
 GRACE LEE. 23 
 
 desertj within the shadow of the pyramids, by 
 the ancient Nile, by forsaken kingdoms, she 
 followed her own track nntil she came to an 
 Eastern city, rising on an Eastern sky, to the 
 gloom of an antique church where lamps burned 
 before a sacred shrine, and like one wakening 
 from a dream, she found herself kneeling by the 
 Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. For two years 
 and more she had been a wanderer, and now 
 her pilgrimage over, she had come to pray a 
 last time where she knew she never could pray 
 again. 
 
 Long before sunrise Grace had left Jerusalem. 
 We will not follow her through the whole of her 
 homeward track ; it gave to her story a few 
 bright pages more ; it left images that enchanted 
 her whole life, but it had no influence on her 
 destiny. At Rome she paused and rested. 
 
 Miss Lee travelled alone ; she was twenty- 
 three, wealthy and fearless. Until her twenty- 
 first birthday, she had remained in the North
 
 24 GRACE LEE. 
 
 with Doctor Crankey and Miss Amy^ exactly as if 
 no change in her life had occurred. Not until 
 the very day she was of age had Grace entered 
 on the full and double enjoyment of fortune and 
 liberty. Then^ indeed^ spreading her wings like 
 a long captive bird, she had taken her flight 
 towards the burning East. Gold smoothed a 
 path else too rough, and charmed away peril. 
 She travelled in the style, with the suite; and 
 with all the privileges of a princess. The world 
 might have reproved this adventurous spirit in 
 a poorer woman, but it admired and extolled it 
 in the wealthy lady. Wherever she went, she 
 left behind her a golden shower that won her 
 still more golden opinions. In France she was 
 Lady Lee, la grande dame Anglaise ; in Italy, 
 an English Principessa ; in the East, she was the 
 Sultana from the West, and she all but eclipsed 
 the fame of Lady Esther Stanhope. In England 
 she was plain Miss Lee, an eccentric, independent 
 girl, who had travelled over half the globe, who
 
 GRACE LEE. 25 
 
 was prodigiously rich, and every one knows 
 what that is in England, whom no one knew 
 personally, and whom everybody was dying to 
 know. 
 
 Miss Lee had a careless, artistic sort of tem- 
 per ; she did not seek or seem to value society ; 
 it came to her unsought and courted her 
 notice. 
 
 The Baronne de Montreuil, wife of the French 
 ambassador in Home, had met and known Miss 
 Lee in the East ; she could not hear of her 
 having any other home in Rome than Palace 
 Colonna. A very charming Erenchwoman was 
 Madame la Baronne, but then every one knew 
 she was not eminent for disinterested friend- 
 ships ; that the Baron was poor ; and that 
 their favourite nephew, Eugene de Montreuil, 
 owned nothing beyond his salaire d'attacM 
 d'ambassade^ barely sufficient, he disdainfully 
 owned, to keep him in cigars. The Honourable 
 Mrs. Chesterfield, the celebrated English beauty.
 
 26 GRACE LEE. 
 
 who reigned supreme over the highest of the 
 several circles of English visitors in the Holy 
 City, had no peace of mind or body until she 
 succeeded in getting introduced to Miss Lee. 
 Grace was not handsome, she was w^ealthy. 
 She could not be a rival; she might be a very 
 Qseful friend. Mrs. Chesterfield declared she 
 was the most delightful, original creature; and 
 both in the grand, but rather dull monde diplo- 
 matique ; and' in the little, but brilliant English 
 world; Miss Lee, without effort, produced a 
 decided sensation. 
 
 The princely Colonnas did not erect palaces 
 for their descendants to let them furnished ; 
 but the pride of Italy is gone, and for years 
 the French embassy has resided in the noble 
 building which stands by the Church of the 
 Twelve Apostles. As the Honourable Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield^s carriage entered tlie wide court, and 
 drew up before the broad staircase ; she felt, 
 with a little touch of envy, that she, the nobly-
 
 GRACE LEE. 27 
 
 born_, but rather poor English beauty, had to 
 vegetate in a furnished house ; whilst this 
 wealthy plebeian lived in a palace, guest to the 
 ambassador of His Majesty the most Christian 
 King. She crossed the ante-room, hung with 
 grim-looking Colonnas : Miss Lee's French 
 maid, and Miss Lee's courier, and Miss Lee^s 
 footman, were superintending a whole court 
 of tradesmen from the Piazza di Spagna and 
 the Yia Condotti* Mrs. Chesterfield con- 
 descended to pause a moment and look on. 
 Here a costly and elegant mosaic table was 
 unpacked ; an exquisite copy of the whole 
 Roman Forum in Rosso Antico stood close by; 
 and then there were marble cups, and vases, 
 and bronzes beyond number ; and a jeweller she 
 saw with a morocco case ; and a young man 
 with a large band-box. 
 
 '• You have enough to do," said Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield, smiling to Mademoiselle Dupuis. 
 
 " Madame can have no idea of it," replied 
 
 c2
 
 28 GRACE LEE. 
 
 the French maid^ with uplifted eyes. " Will 
 Madame be so good as to pass this way ? Made- 
 moiselle is just gone to the garden.'^ 
 
 '^ I shall go and find her ; you need not come 
 with me, I know the way." 
 
 Mademoiselle Dupuis would fain have re- 
 monstrated_, but a gracious, yet imperious 
 wave of the hand both checked and silenced 
 her. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield walked slowly through that 
 beautiful old Italian garden ; the summer flowers 
 of other lands there bloomed and grew in the 
 winter air, redolent with the sweet scent of 
 violets. The red orange glowed through its 
 sombre leaves; the yellow lemon hung from its 
 bending boughs, or Hesperides-like, the golden 
 fruit was strewn on the dark earth. A clear 
 fountain poured down from a stone niche full 
 of green ferns, and flowed away with a broken 
 sound. The whole place had a forsaken look ; 
 the mutilated ancient statues grouped around
 
 GRACE LEE. . 29 
 
 seemed to gaze with a melancholy air down the 
 silent and neglected path. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield took that to her right. It 
 brought her to the last terrace. Gray sculptured 
 masses of what was once a Temple of the Sun 
 lay half buried in the earth. The God of Light 
 looked down carelessly on his ruined shrine. 
 On a fragment sat, or rather half reclined, Grace 
 Lee. She wore a striped Tunis silk, of light 
 texture ; it had the hues of a land of the sun, 
 gorgeous, not gaudy. It was made in Eastern 
 fashion, and suited both her figure and dark 
 complexion. The vest and sleeves were fastened 
 by carbuncle buttons, set with brilliants ; a 
 narrow striped scarf carelessly tied around her 
 ebon hair completed her attire. The sun that 
 shone on her whole figure gave it warmth and 
 brilliancy. She basked in its heat like one to 
 whom it was life. She did not see Mrs. Chester- 
 field until the lady stood close by her, and said, 
 softly,
 
 30 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " How can you bear that sun ? ^' 
 ""Very well, after that of Egypt/^ replied 
 Grace, looking round laughing j " my mother 
 was a salamander, and her daughter has an 
 innate love for fire under every shape, but 
 especially under that of yonder glorious globe. 
 However, there is a cool bit of shade for you." 
 
 "Why, what have you been doing ?^' resumed 
 Mrs. Chesterfield, as she sat down and saw- that 
 all around Miss Lee the ground was strewn with 
 exquisite flowers. Grace laughed. A scroll of 
 paper at her feet caught Mrs. Chesterfield^s 
 attention ; she picked it up, unfolded it, and 
 began reading ; 
 "Anima mia" — 
 
 "A love sonnet. Oh ! I must not be so 
 indiscreet as to go on 1 ^' 
 
 *' No, it is not a love sonnet," said Grace ; 
 " at all events, it is highly respectful. Every 
 morning, in such a bouquet, I get one — Heaven 
 knows from whom ! "
 
 GRACE LEE. 31 
 
 " I can enlighten you/' replied Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield, a little bitterly ; '^ this is Prince Negri^s 
 writing.''^ And for a while she was mute and 
 •thought : — " This^ then, was why he yesterday 
 looked so cool as he rode past the carriage on the 
 Pincio. Let him, mean, interested man!" Yet 
 she sighed. She was beautiful, noble, a widow, 
 but poor. Mario Negri was handsome, rich, and 
 a Roman Prince. 
 
 Until the arrival of Miss Lee he had been 
 sedulously attentive. Since the dawning of this 
 new star coming from the East, with a halo of 
 Eastern wealth and splendour around her, he 
 had grown distant. Mrs. Chesterfield now knew 
 why; but she was a woman of the world. She 
 could look dispassionately on such things, and 
 like her unconscious rival none the less. She 
 had fully recovered by the time Grace said, 
 carelessly, 
 
 " Prince Negri ; I do not remember. What 
 is he like ? ^\
 
 32 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " Dark, handsome, and noble-looking/' 
 
 " So they are all ; and then there are so many- 
 princes here ! " 
 
 " Oh ! but you must have remarked him ; he is 
 one of your hundred worshippers/^ 
 
 " Have I a hundred ! No wonder I should not 
 know them all : but I think I remember Prince 
 Negri. I sat by him at Princess Borghese^s_, 
 yesterday evening. He is agreeable.'^ 
 
 " Agreeable ! ^^ echoed Mrs. Chesterfield, look- 
 ing piqued ; " is that your kindest word for a 
 man who wants to make a Roman Princess of 
 you." 
 
 Grace rose and stepped up to the terrace. 
 On the ledge flowers bloomed in their stone' 
 vases j below lay Eome, with her church towers, 
 her hilly horizon, her broad circling sky. 
 
 "I like Rome,'^ said Miss Lee; "I like her 
 churches, where saints and martyrs sleep. I like 
 her spoils of ancient art. I like, too, her ruins, 
 though they cannot vie with those of Greece
 
 GRACE LEE. 33 
 
 or Eg3^pt. I like her ancient palaces, her old 
 gardens, her sunshine, and her sky. Yes, a 
 strange, stately life, yet not without its solemn 
 charm, must be the life of a Roman Princess. 
 But this sun is getting ygyj hot for you. 
 Shall we go in V 
 
 Through the gardens they returned to the 
 palace. Miss Lee opened the 'door of the 
 gallery; public visitors were not admitted that 
 day ; the keeper was absent ; the pictures kept 
 solitary state in the empty saloons. As they 
 slowlj^ passed along, looking and pausing, Mrs. 
 Chesterfield carelessly resumed : 
 
 " Poor Madame de Montreuil ! what will she 
 say to prejudice you against Prince Negri^ calling 
 him a gambler — my dear, all the Italians gamble 
 — and then she will try to bewitch you with 
 gay Paris, and what she terms une position poli- 
 tique ; both charming, especially with Eugene de 
 Montreuil, the gayest, the most agreeable of 
 
 gay and agreeable Frenchmen.^' 
 
 c3
 
 34 GRACE LEE. 
 
 * Grace was looking at a small landscape. She 
 turned round and said, slowly, 
 
 " Une position politique, and in Paris, too, 
 the most charming of charming cities ? In 
 France, where women once reigned — where they 
 still rule; where, with position, and mind, and 
 skill, one of our poor despised sex can still have 
 her say in the world's story. Mrs. Chesterfield, 
 I should like it dearly.'^ 
 
 And with sparkling eyes she laughed gaily. 
 
 " So you would rather be a French Baronne 
 than a Roman Princess, and rather a Polish 
 Queen than either. Eh ! ambitious creature ? 
 
 '' A Polish Queen. How so ? " 
 
 "Are you not bosom friend with Countess 
 Karlski V 
 
 " We met in Paris two years ago. We have 
 again met in Rome, and we are friends. What 
 of it?'' 
 
 "And has not Countess Karlski a son, the 
 most romantic, the most chivalrous and devoted
 
 GRACE LEE 35 
 
 of Polish exiles, the great-grandson of a 
 kingr^ 
 
 "Ah! what king ?^' 
 " '^I do not exactly remember. One of the 
 German princes of whom Polish nobles made 
 sovereigns, but a king he was; and here/^ she 
 added, passing her arm within that of Grace, 
 and leading her to a fine Titian portrait — " here 
 is his descendant, whom the Venetian painted 
 by anticipation. Here he stands before you; 
 blue eyes, fair hair, noble brow, manly look, 
 right royal bearing. When Poland rises from 
 her ashes, a nation and a kingdom, why should 
 not Stanislaus Karlski sway a sceptre — why 
 should not Queen Grace wear a crown ? " 
 
 " It would not sit well on her plebeian brow.^^ 
 
 "This is the age of plebeian queens, who 
 have been found to act their part as well as 
 any born on the footsteps of the throne.^' 
 
 Grace looked neither surprised nor startled 
 at the splendid though doubtful vision Mrs.
 
 36 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Chesterfield held forth. She gazed fixedly at 
 the fair-haired and manly-looking figure before 
 her; and smiling a little proudly, she replied, 
 " Stranger things have come to pass ! Well, 
 it would be something to live for the redemp- 
 of a whole people ; to see it breaking forth 
 into joyful freedom after years of bondage; and 
 to wear a crown doubly glorious, because so 
 dearly won. Ah ! Mrs. Chesterfield, you" are 
 an accomplished temptress.^' 
 
 " Then it is Count Karlski after all,^' thought 
 Mrs. Chesterfield : anxious to clear this point, 
 she resumed aloud, '' I hope your majestj^ will 
 be pleased to ask me to the coronation?" 
 
 Grace looked round over her shoulder, and 
 said, smiling, 
 
 ^^When I came to Rome, and first heard of 
 the Honourable Mrs. Chesterfield, an Italian 
 lady, said to me : ' The beautiful English lady is 
 going to enter the bosom of the Catholic church, 
 and to marry Prince Negri ! ' From an English
 
 GRACE LEE. 37 
 
 baronet I heard another story. ' The enterde 
 cordiale is cemented : the niece of our Premier 
 will, soon be Madame de Montrenil/ From 
 many, from almost all, I heard, ^Poland has 
 found a rival in Count Karlski^s heart/ ^' 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield reddened and laughed, but 
 she was silenced. When she spoke again it was of 
 Princess Doria's ball, to which both were going 
 that same evening. Thus discoursing, they came 
 to the end of the gallery, and went on to Miss 
 Lee^s rooms. There they found displayed the 
 various treasures which had already caught Mrs. 
 Chesterfield^s attention. The bandbox on being 
 opened had brought forth a priceless lace ; the 
 morocco case, antique cameos, fit for a queen, and 
 known over all Rome for their beauty and great 
 value. And Miss Lee had bought all, and could 
 not even tell the price of the mosaic table, which 
 Mrs. Chesterfield was curious enough to ask. All 
 she knew was that it came from Ciapetti^s, Piazza 
 di Spagna : about its positive value she had not
 
 38 GKACE LEE. 
 
 troubled herself. " Very impertinent/^ thought 
 Mrs. Chesterfield, who was rather noted wherever 
 she went for driving hard bargains. Yet she 
 stayed and looked on, dazzled, fascinated by all 
 this wealth. It was nothing to her; it never 
 could be hers; but it charmed her irresistibly. 
 When at length she left it was to wonder with 
 internal bitterness how many thousand scudi 
 the extravagant creature had squandered that 
 morning ! 
 
 Scarcely was she gone when another door 
 opened, and Madame de Montreuil entered. She 
 was little, plump, lively, graceful. She wore a 
 simple white muslin morning dress, but the em- 
 broidery made it sufficiently rich for an ambassa- 
 dress ; her little cap, too, put on with the careless 
 grace of a Frenchwoman, was of costly lace ; her 
 whole person was graceful and attractive. She 
 came in, all smiles, all soft speech. She praised 
 Miss Lee's looks, her taste, her purchases ; then, 
 with a sigh, she sank down into an arm-chair, and
 
 GRACE LEE. 39 
 
 glided into other themes. " The poor Baron was 
 almost killed with work ; without Eugene she did 
 not know what he could do ; indeed, the Baron 
 • had strong thoughts of resigning his political 
 position, to this perfect nephew, who in the 
 meanwhile was going to France, there to be duly 
 elected for one of the southern departments/^ 
 
 ''But first,'' added Madame de Montreuil, 
 reddening slightly, " Eugene must marry ; for two 
 reasons : firstly, he must settle in life ; secondly, 
 he is richer in native talent and ancient blood 
 than in the world's wealth, and now, ma chere 
 Graeey' she added, gently pressing her hand, 
 " hear me with patience. I confess it, I am a 
 woman of the world; I speak its language, not 
 that of romance. Will you be my niece ? Will 
 you be the wife of Eugene de Montreuil ? He has 
 not asked me to speak for him ; he can do that 
 for himself; but I know his feelings, and thinking 
 that my voice might not be without influence, 
 I ventured. I do not deny that Eugene and I
 
 40 GRACE LEB. 
 
 once thought of Prince Negri^s sister, but 
 everyone knows that her brother lost, her fortune 
 at an unlucky game of cards. I say it with 
 regret, for Maria Negri is a charming girl, and 
 her brother is not a habitual gambler. Eugene, 
 too, was attached to this child of sixteen, but he 
 cannot afford to marry a portionless bride, and so 
 it is all over. You are a woman, and not an 
 ordinary woman. Eugene has too much tact 
 and good taste not to appreciate you; perhaps 
 you, judging him from his aspect, may think him 
 too light and careless, but, trust me, he has 
 ambition, and subtlety and skill beyond his years. 
 Nature meant him to be a political man ; with a 
 wife like you, rich, brilliant, born to be one of 
 the world's idols, because you ai'e original and 
 careless, Eugene can rise and take you with 
 him to the highest positions ; and though wealth 
 and its enjoyments are sweet, believe me, ma 
 chere Grace, there is something worth hoth—une 
 position politique J^
 
 GRACE LEE. 4l 
 
 And the pretty little Baronne took a diplo- 
 matic air. Grace had heard her very quietly, 
 leaning back on her chair, her two hands on her 
 knees. She now looked up smiling, and said : 
 "I thank you for your frankness, Madame, and 
 believe me I appreciate every advantage you 
 offer. But— ^' 
 
 The hght hand of the Baronne was laid quickly 
 on her lips. 
 
 "Say as many 'buts^ to Eugene as you 
 please," she said gaily ; " it is your woman's 
 right; to me, my dear, say nothing, I only 
 wanted you to know the truth and reflect 
 upon it. And now," she added, rising, " I 
 leave you. It is, unless I mistake, the hour 
 for your promenade." 
 
 '^I am only going to Countess Karlski." 
 
 " Charming woman ; and what an interesting 
 young man is her son; pity he wastes his ta- 
 lent on a dream ! For you know, my dear, 
 that with all the sympathy in the world, the
 
 42 GRACE LEE. 
 
 resurrection of Poland is a dream. How very 
 well this Eastern sort of thing becomes you ! 
 You really look like something out of the Ara- 
 bian Nights/' 
 
 She gently pressed her hand_, and with a 
 gracious nod, and a pleasant au revoi)% she left her. 
 
 Miss Lee's carriage was waiting below; in a 
 few minutes it had taken her to Countess 
 Karlski's. 
 
 In one of the many gloomy and narrow 
 streets that run between the Corso and the 
 Tiberj in one of Rome's ancient palaces, lived 
 the two Polish exiles. The dwelling suited 
 fallen fortunes. The decayed gate stood ever 
 open; two antique columns adorned it; grass 
 grew freely in the gloomy court ; from a heap 
 of rocks against the wall clear water potired 
 down into a shattered sarcophagus : it had once 
 held the ashes of some proud Roman, it now 
 served as a fountain; large green-leaved plants 
 grew around in unchecked luxuriance. Tb^
 
 GRACE LEE. 43 
 
 whole had in itself that air of neglect which 
 pervades everything in Rome, from the Vatican 
 to the meanest dwelling. 
 
 " Miss Lee was expected. She went up alone 
 the broad staircase. A whole family of beggars 
 sat on the steps, taking their meal of yellow 
 Indian corn. On seeing her they all stopped, 
 and stretched out eager hands. She gave them 
 a few coins, and went up to the second floor. 
 In a corner of the landing, a large heap of 
 dust had gathered ; from the window out in the 
 yard, wet clothes hung out to dry ; on a mouldy 
 looking door was nailed a small glazed card, with, 
 a coronet, and " Madame la CBmtesse de Karlski, 
 nee Lobskoi,^^ printed in Gothic characters. Grace 
 rang. A dirty, slipshod Roman girl, with a long 
 silver pin in her hair, and a large beaded coral 
 necklace round her brown neck, opened. Miss 
 Lee passed through vast and lofty rooms, almost 
 bare of furniture, until she came to a broad 
 and melancholy saloon. The frescoed ceiling by
 
 44j gkace lee. 
 
 Pietro di Cortona^ was full of mythological gods ; 
 the sculptured cornices had not lost all their 
 gilding; mosaic work still adorned the marble 
 floor; the walls were hung with faded arras; 
 red damask_, still more faded, covered the anti- 
 quated chairs and sofa. Before a large round 
 table, heaped with papers, in one of the deep 
 window recesses, sat the Polish countess ; a little 
 white-haired, fairy -looking woman, in a rusty 
 black velvet robe, and fantastic black lace cap, 
 trimmed with a profusion of jet ornaments. She 
 sat very still, reading, with her head bent to- 
 wards her right shoulder : the street was narrow, 
 the high houses Opposite hid all view of the 
 Roman sky; a subdued light fell on her dimi- 
 nutive figure, all but lost in the vastness of the 
 room. On hearing Grace she turned round, and 
 rising with a joyful cry, she ran up to her, 
 talking very fast in French, which she spoke 
 with perfect ease and much grace. Time had 
 been with her, but it had taken no light fror^^
 
 GEACE LEE. 45 
 
 her brilliant restless eyes, no sweetness from 
 her fascinating smile, no lightness from her agile 
 movements. She rose on tiptoe to kiss the 
 cheek of Grace; she made her sit clown in her 
 deep chair, then, darting around the table in 
 search of some stray paper, quick and light as 
 a humming-bird, she said, in her eager, rapid way, 
 
 " I have been longing for you— this morning 
 brought the most triumphant news — everything 
 is ready ; in two months Poland shall be free ! 
 You must come and see me in Warsaw,^' she 
 added, pressing her hand. 
 
 She seemed overflowing with gladness ; but 
 Grace had too often heard the same tale of 
 hope and triumph to be startled. The Countess 
 resumed : 
 
 " I speak on the authority of my own corre- 
 spondents ; as usual, Stanislaus tells me nothing ; 
 but I know that your last munificent donation 
 to the cause has given us arms, men, ammunition. 
 All is ready, Russia is crushed ! " She drew up
 
 46 GRACE LEE. 
 
 her slender form, and her bright eyes sparkled 
 like diamonds. "Yes, ma chere Grace '^ she re- 
 sumed, laughing and patting Miss Lee's dark 
 cheek, "you have had the honour to help to 
 crush Russia ! ^' 
 
 " En attendant,^' replied Grace, smiling, " do 
 not forget that I am come to take you to the 
 Colosseum." 
 
 " Yes, I remember ; Stanislaus too is commg. 
 Ah ! I shall be sorry to leave Rome and my noble 
 palace ; and the garden opposite, vrhere birds sing 
 all the day long as I sit here dreaming of 
 Poland.'' 
 
 Miss Lee surprised looked for the garden : in a 
 dingy window opposite she saw a few flower-pots 
 with kitchen herbs hanging from iron bars, and 
 in an old cage a shabby blackbird. 
 
 "Yes," sighed Countess Karlski and her bright 
 eyes grew dim, " I shall think of thee, beautiful 
 Rome, even in Warsaw : I have met with such 
 sympathy here. Yesterday I was presented to
 
 GRACE LEE. 47 
 
 liis Holiness : he gave me a particular bene- 
 diction ; not in words, but in looks that went 
 — hereJ' 
 
 • She laid her hand on her heart with much 
 emotion : before Grace could reply, Count 
 Stanislaus Karlski entered the room. 
 
 The Polish exile was one of the remarkable 
 men of Europe ; but he had no country, no true 
 sphere of action; all his energy, all his talent, 
 were wasted on a hopeless cause. His mother 
 had poured her ardent spirit into a vase nobler 
 than her own. Unlike her, he never breathed a 
 word of his hopes, fears, or plans ; he never spoke- 
 of Poland, very rarely of Russia, but his life was 
 devoted to raise one and wound the other. If he 
 failed, it was because the task was superhuman. 
 
 In appearance he was calm and serious ; his 
 manners had the ease and simplicity which high 
 birth and good breeding impart. Women he had 
 the gift to charm without effort, by a mixture of 
 tenderness and respect, which he had learned in
 
 48 GRACE LEE. 
 
 the daily intercourse of a mother he fondly 
 loved. With men he was not so successful. Some 
 called him a visionary, others an adventurer ; he 
 was unfortunate ; and men are not like women, 
 they despise misfortune. Grace liked and es- 
 teemed the exile, and he returned the feeling : 
 ever since she had come of age, she had, unsoli- 
 cited, for he was too proud to beg, given large 
 sums from her ample fortune to forward' the 
 cause of Poland, or aid her suffering children. 
 Her modesty and reserve heightened in his eyes 
 the value of her princely gifts. She never 
 questioned him, she never presumed, she never 
 interfered, but gave, for the pure and simple 
 pleasure of giving. 
 
 Count Stanislaus was habitually grave; on 
 this day Grace was surprised to find him gay. 
 He laughed and jested with unusual mirth; even 
 his mother smilingly asked what ailed him. But 
 when they reached the Colosseum, to which they 
 were driving, his spirits suddenly subsided. The
 
 GRACE LEE. 49 
 
 Countess went up to the central cross and knelt 
 on the lower step. Grace and her son slowly 
 walked up and down the grass-grown arena ; it 
 was lonely^ quiet^ and beautiful. 
 
 The sun shone brown and warm on the gaunt 
 skeleton of this dead giant of a past age j green 
 things ready to break out into bloom, grew on 
 it everywhere; the pale but exquisite Italian 
 sky looked in through every shattered arch and 
 window, and spread above the broken upper 
 outline, in cloudless blue. Peace and stillness 
 enclosed the whole place. They saw no one 
 save a solitary old man in tattered cloak and 
 pointed hat, who sat on a broken column. On 
 seeing the two strangers he came up to them, 
 and holding out his hand displayed, with a 
 smile, his little treasures; two or three defaced 
 old coins, a few pieces of broken mosaic. Before 
 the ready hand of Grace could draw forth her 
 purse, her companion had given him a small 
 alms, and he was gone. Count Karlski looked
 
 50 . GRACE LEE. 
 
 after liim smiling. " His name is Juliano/^ he 
 said ; " we are old friends. Early as I come 
 here, late as I may leave, I see him before or 
 leave him after me. The Colosseum is his realm, 
 that ragged cloak is his regal mantle, that old 
 hat is his crown; foreigners are his born tribu- 
 taries. Watch him now; two well-dressed men 
 are crossing the arena ; he goes not near them ; 
 they are Romans, and with a look Juliano kiiows 
 it. And he too is a Roman; he has the full 
 dark eye, the aquiline nose, the well-cut Roman 
 lip and chin. With his white beard flowing on 
 his breast, and his mantle thrown around him, 
 with the grace of the ancient toga, he might sit 
 for one of the Roman senators, from whom he 
 is perchance descended. And he lives here, in 
 this ruin, happy to get a few baiocchi from the 
 careless stranger, whose ancestor, perhaps, died 
 in this very spot, a barbarian gladiator. Ah ! 
 these," he added, looking around him, '^' these 
 are the things that comfort one under the heavy
 
 GRACE LEE. 51 
 
 hand of Providence. The proudest, the most 
 tyrannic nations^ have their day of retribution; 
 the oppressed may safely look forward to the 
 avenging future; but in the meanwhile the 
 present is bitter/' 
 
 " Would you be anything but a Pole ? ^' said 
 Grace, smiling. 
 
 *'No, heaven forbid!" he replied, quickly; 
 '^but then/' he added, sadly, ^''who would be 
 a Pole — no one; even you, good and generous 
 as you are — you would not ? " 
 
 " Why not ? '' asked Grace. 
 
 ^' Oh ! if I indeed thought so," he said, look 
 ing at her fixedly ; " if I thought so ! " 
 
 Grace stopped, he stopped too ; his eyes were 
 fastened on her with a strange expression ; words 
 seemed to tremble on his lips. At length he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Miss Lee, you have been a generous friend 
 to Poland ! Will you become her daughter, and 
 share the fortunes of her banished son ? " 
 
 d2
 
 52 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Few things took Miss Lee by surprise, because 
 her perceptions were quick and received impres- 
 sions rapidly. Her reply came at once. 
 
 "What for?^^ she asked, "Poland wants no 
 such daughter — an exile no such burden. ^^ 
 
 He reddened and bit his lip. She resumed : 
 
 " Have you thought of this long ? " 
 
 " You think me presumptuous/' he answered, 
 with a sad smile, " because I offer you a nobler 
 destiny than the life of pleasure and wandering 
 you now lead. Forgive me, if seeing in you the 
 promise of nobler things, a heroic nature that 
 knows not itself, I asked you to become the 
 daughter of poor Poland — poor now I grant it, 
 yet who knows that some day her rewards to 
 the faithful few may not exceed her poverty.'^ 
 
 And this great-grandson of a king, more 
 ambitious, perhaps, than he himself knew, 
 looked at Grace with reproachful pride. She 
 smiled and shook her head. 
 
 " I am not what you think," she said. " My
 
 GRACE LEE. 53 
 
 friend, get a Polish peasant girl, pour into her 
 the sense of burning wrongs ; of a noble nation 
 effaced from the rank of nations ; of a language 
 silenced, of a faith oppressed; do if you can, 
 what God alone can do, kindle and inflame a 
 human soul, create a new Joan of Arc, then in- 
 deed will you have done something for Poland/^ 
 
 '^ Oh ! that I could — that I could — but you 
 wrong yourself — besides you have not heard me 
 — will you hear me, Miss Lee ? " 
 
 She bent her head in mute assent. He 
 spoke with the strange, seducing eloquence, 
 that had before that day moved and conquered 
 many a reluctant heart to the cause of his 
 country. Grace listened to this strain of sweet 
 music with a charmed ear; but she was not 
 convinced. He read it in her look, and said 
 quickly : 
 
 " Give me no answer yet — the penitents are 
 coming in for the Via Crucis ; when it is over, 
 tell me what you have decided.^^
 
 54 GRACE LEE. 
 
 The procession entered the arena singing ; the 
 men ranged themselves on one side, the women 
 on the other : a young monk ascended the 
 platform and preached briefly but impressively of 
 sin and repentance ; an older monk stood by him 
 in a grave listening attitude. The people sat or 
 stood dispersed around, on the grass, on the steps 
 of the cross, on the broken marble fragments. 
 Then followed the stations. 
 
 Around this once blood-stained arena fourteen 
 lowly altars record the steps by which the Man 
 of Sorrows reached his bitter Passion and 
 shameful death. Sefore each of these altars 
 successively the crowd knelt, prayed, and sang; 
 a strange impressive scene, with the blue sky 
 looking down, and the old walls giving back these 
 sounds of song and prayer. 
 
 Countess Karlski was lost in devotion ; Grace 
 could not help looking at her son. His brow 
 was unusually grave, his whole face unusually 
 clouded ; he seemed absorbed in thought. ^^ He
 
 GRACE LEE. 55 
 
 wants to plaj^ some desperate game/^ tliouglit 
 Grace, "and to make me the stakes. Ay, he 
 likes me well enough to immolate me to that 
 ^supreme love of his heart— Poland ! ^' Suddenly 
 he raised his e-^es and met hers: he smiled as if 
 conscious of her thoughts, and Grace too smiled, 
 for her resolve was taken. 
 
 All was over, the chanting of the procession 
 died away in the distance. Countess Karlski 
 rose. She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered 
 mysteriously in the ear of Grace : " Do you mind 
 waiting five minutes — I have a particular prayer 
 to offer up.'' Grace assented, and sat down on 
 the step of one of the deserted altars. At once 
 Count Karlski came and sat by her. 
 
 "WelV he said, smilingly, and there was 
 strange sweetness and fascination in his smile 
 and in the look of his deep blue eyes, as leaning 
 his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his hand, 
 he looked at Grace. 
 
 " You are going to make a new revolu-
 
 56 GRACE LEE. 
 
 tion/' she said. " I ask no questions, I state 
 a fact." 
 
 " A shrewd guess. Do you not know I live in 
 revolutions ? *^ 
 
 "Well, then, frankly, a revolutionary atmos- 
 phere would not suit me.^' 
 
 '^ Is that your final answer ? " 
 
 " My friend, it is.'' 
 
 He looked at her reproachfully. The eyes of 
 Grace were bent on the earth, and her forefinger 
 traced on the sand the figures of a number. He 
 followed her movements with a curious eye. 
 "Would that do ?'' she asked, looking up laughing. 
 
 He started and reddened. 
 
 " You are jesting," he said; " even you, rich as' 
 the world, says you are, even you could not." 
 
 " All at once I could not. But within six 
 months — try me." 
 
 It was some time before he spoke. At length 
 he looked up, and said very earnestly, " You are 
 a noble creature ! "
 
 GRACE LEE. 57 
 
 The prayer of liis mother was ended. She 
 rose and came up to them cheerful and smiling. 
 
 Miss Lee reached Palace Colonna in time for 
 the ambassadorial dinner. The ambassador him- 
 self Madame de Montreuil, her nephew^ and 
 Grace were the only persons present^ but the 
 very dining-room had a diplomatic air, as indeed 
 had everything around. His Excellency M. de 
 Montreuil, was a diplomatic man, tall, spare, 
 austere in aspect, laconic in speech — the man 
 to wear a gold-embroidered coat, riband, crosses 
 and orders — to figure well in public ceremonies, to 
 look properly deep and solemn at a ministerial 
 dinner. An impenetrable man, from whom no 
 one, not even Madame de Montreuil, had ever 
 been able to extract anything, but whether 
 because of his great depth or of his utter shallow- 
 ness, Madame herself never could make out. He 
 never breathed a word of politics ; he read all the 
 newspapers, took notes of the cases of extraordi- 
 nary longevity, spent an hour every morning with 
 
 d3
 
 58 GRACE LEE. 
 
 his secretary, rode every afternoon on the Pincio, 
 lived like any other gentleman, and had the 
 name of un liomme d'etat. 
 
 On the present occasion he was, as usual, 
 courteous to Miss Lee, but somewhat silent; 
 ■when the dessert came in he went to the open 
 window, sat in his chair and read the Debats. 
 Eugene de Montreuil, a fair -haired, slim-waisted, 
 thin-moustachio'd dandy, amply made up for- his 
 nucleus silence. He spoke on, a tort a travers, with 
 that light sparkling French wit, which lies in 
 manner, in a certain precision of speech rather 
 than in the substance ; m the form, more than in 
 the meaning. He entertained the ladies with the 
 small talk of the day : the Duchess de Croy had 
 left Rome; the Princess Sobenhausen was just 
 arrived ; Principessa Russoli was going to marry 
 her daughter to a certain English Catholic noble- 
 man, as yet nameless. And to all appearance 
 these trifles absorbed him; yet to a close ob- 
 server the ambitious man was betrayed by the
 
 GRACE LEE. 59 
 
 restless look; the smile that vamly tried to be 
 careless. In the sarae light way he treated his 
 forthcoming election. He gave a frank account 
 of his intentions. He meant to pay assiduous 
 court to three ladies, and through them to win 
 their influential husbands. The task was not, he 
 confessed, without difficulty. 
 
 "Madame de Broc detests Madame de Ger- 
 sueil, who detests Madame de Menard. Ah ! 
 it is a delicate matter;^' and the shadow of a 
 thoughtful wrinkle gathered on his smooth 
 brow. " I must manage them separately/' he 
 added, seriously. 
 
 "But what if you find yourself with the 
 three ? ^^ asked his aunt. " Confess yourself 
 conquered." 
 
 " Conquered ! " he answered, passing his hand 
 through his chesnut hair, " conquered ! why in 
 that case Madame de Broc and Madame de 
 Menard must be charmed together. There can 
 be no rivalry, for they are not enemies ; or what
 
 60 GEACE LEE. 
 
 is almost as objectionable entre dames j bosom 
 friends.'^ 
 
 " Thank yon/^ said Madame de Montreuil. 
 
 He bowed, and resumed. " Then I must 
 fasten Madame de Broc's attentions on some 
 ill-dressed lady^ refer Madame de Menard to 
 some third person for a little bit of new scandal, 
 in both of which having succeeded, I devote 
 myself to Madame de Gerseuil." 
 
 "You are eluding the difficulty. I spoke of 
 the three together.^^ 
 
 " And let them be together," was the heroic 
 reply. " Seul contre trois, the single Horace 
 against the three Curiatii, I shall yet prevail. 
 I shall unite Madame de Broc and Madame dt 
 Menard ; make Madame de Menard slightly 
 subordinate to Madame de Gerseuil, and Madame 
 de Gerseuil slightly subordinate to Madame de 
 Broc. She who hates will feel the shade; she 
 who hates not will feel nothing." 
 
 " Is he not impertinent ? " said Madame de 
 Montreuil to Grace.
 
 GRACE LEE. 61 
 
 Miss Lee smiled. Eugene, convinced lie had 
 produced an irresistible impression, was going to 
 improve the matter, when the voice of the 
 ambassador issuing from behind the open Debats, 
 Avas heard reading aloud — 
 
 " ' On the fourth of this month, there died in 
 the town of Annecy in Savoy, a woman named 
 Jeanne Leroux, aged one hundred and fifteen 
 years, five months, and three days.' Very 
 singular,^^ added his Excellency, "this is the 
 best and most curious instance this year has 
 produced.^^ He took out his pocket-book, noted 
 the circumstance, and resumed his reading. 
 
 " I suppose we must begin and think of that 
 dreadful toilette,'^ said Madame de Montreuil, 
 rising and passing her arm within that of Grrace. 
 She led her away, whispering mysterious advice, 
 and pathetically entreating her, whatever she did, 
 " not to wear yellow.^^ 
 
 "Another bouquet has come for Mademoiselle,'' 
 smilingly said Mademoiselle Dupuis, as Miss Lee
 
 6^ GRAC5 LEE. 
 
 entered lier dres&ing-room. Grace loved flowers ; 
 with delight she bent over the delicate blossoms. 
 
 " And there is a letter too/^ resumed her maid. 
 This time the letter was prose, not verse; but 
 the poet's name, Mario Negri, was clearly written 
 below. It was a love letter, but a respectful one ; 
 its purport too was marriage, and very clearly 
 stated. Grace read it attentively, then put it 
 away with a smile. ^' He, too ! '^ she thought, 
 and she mused awhile. But little time had she 
 to reflect ; first, her toilet, then Madame de 
 MontreuiPs presence, occupied her fully ; at 
 length both the ladies were ready. The ambas- 
 sadress was attired with taste and richness ; 
 Grace with unusual simplicity. She wore a 
 plain white Eastern muslin, a gold diadem that 
 bound her dark hair, and but one ornament of 
 real value, the cameo bracelet purchased that 
 morning. 
 
 " Very good taste," approvingly murmured 
 Madame de Montreuil, '' very."
 
 GRACE LEE. 63 
 
 There never liad been in E/Ome a more beautiful 
 fete than that of Princess Doria. The splendid 
 rooms looked doubly splendid. The softness of 
 music, the sweetness of perfumes, filled the whole 
 place. There were soft speeches, softer smiles 
 and glances, beautiful women, — all that could 
 charm the senses and the eyes was there. Mrs. 
 Chesterfield was present. Her first task had 
 been to seek out for Grace, She saw her 
 standing at the end of the ball-room talking to 
 some ladies; then, with involuntary but irre- 
 pressible jealousy, she beheld Prince Negri care- 
 lessly yet surely approach the wealthy lady. 
 There was something in his handsome dark face 
 bent on pleasing, a meaning which had once 
 been there for her, which she knew well. 
 
 '^ I do not know why I should care about it,^^ 
 she thought ; " he is but a false Italian after all : 
 a gambler, too, and then there would have been 
 that horrid abjuration to go through. He must 
 be saying something very pleasant to her that
 
 64 GEACE LEE. 
 
 she smiles so/^ She could not take her eyes 
 away. Grace looked animated and well, Prince 
 Negri was eminently handsome, even in his 
 country of handsome men and women. He 
 looked a Prince, too. In vain Mrs. Chesterfield 
 longed for some one to break a t^te-a-tete, all 
 the more secure for being held in a crowd. But 
 images shift not more quickly in a dream than in 
 a ball-room. A friend, or rather a bore, came 
 and asked her ^^to look at the most beautiful 
 woman he had seen for a long time.^^ Mrs. 
 Chesterfield remained mute at his impertinence, 
 then dropped her eyehds, used her fan, looked 
 cool, and shook him ofi" like an insect. When 
 she looked again, both Grace and Prince Negri' 
 had vanished. 
 
 It was some time ere she could see them 
 again ; at length she discovered them in a card- 
 room, playing, to her great surprise; several 
 ladies and gentlemen looked on. Mrs. Chester- 
 field joined the group, as Grace rose laughing.
 
 GRACE LEE. 65 
 
 Prince Negri looked rather flushed. Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield lingered behind to know more. She 
 could learn nothing. Some said Miss Lee had 
 won a thousand scudi, and others avowed she 
 had lost, we dare not say how many thousand, 
 and all in one game. " Do tell me what all this 
 is about/' — said Mrs. Chesterfield to Madame de 
 Montreuil, " who lost or won ? " 
 
 " Heaven knows/^ replied the Baronne with a 
 careless shrug, " do look at her ; is she not hand- 
 some ? ' The most beautiful woman in the room/ 
 says Eugene.'^ 
 
 Mrs, Chesterfield looked and saw a young and 
 lovely woman, with the inspired beauty of a 
 Sappho or a Corinna, leaning on the arm of a 
 tall and handsome man. She recognised Gerald 
 Lee. This, then, was the young girl whom six 
 years before he had married for love ; she turned 
 pale at the sight of this new star, on whose path 
 a murmur of admiration rose; but with feigned 
 indiff'erence she said carelesslv :
 
 66 GRACE LEE. 
 
 *^ Pretty woman ! but where is Miss Lee ? " 
 " There, opposite you, dancing with Eugene." 
 It is pleasant to dance with Frenchmen ; they 
 dance well ; they like dancing ; they like their 
 own charming selves : in a discreet way they like 
 too their partner; pleased with everything and 
 everyone, they rarely fail to please. Eugene de 
 Montreuil did his best to amuse Miss Lee; he 
 fully succeeded; he saw it, and as he led her 
 back to her seat, " the right time is come," he 
 thought. In the French grand monde, a man is 
 much too polite to be in love with the lady 
 he wishes to marry, and there is no knowing 
 by what speech expressive of respectful admi- 
 ration M. de Montreuil would have declared 
 his feelings to Miss Lee, if she had not suddenly 
 said : 
 
 " I do not see Prince Negri^s sister." 
 Eugene de Montreuil smiled rather bitterly. 
 " I dare say not : they say she is in a convent 
 — soon to take the habit."
 
 GRACE LEE. 6? 
 
 " 'They'' is a storyteller. I do not believe it; 
 ask Prince Negri if you like.^' 
 
 Eugene de Montreuil turned round quickly. 
 . He saw the Italian standing near enough to have 
 overheard their last words — he reddened. Prince 
 Negri with a smile confirmed Miss Lee^s assertion. 
 " His sister had made her election — for the world." 
 
 Self-possessed, as Eugene de Montreuil habit- 
 ually was, he could not conceal some emotion, 
 on hearing news he little expected. 
 
 " I told you so," said Grace, laughing. Here 
 she was joined by Mrs. Chesterfield, and the 
 favourable moment her late partner had allowed 
 to slip by, returned no more that evening. 
 
 '' Do tell me," whispered Mrs. Chesterfield, 
 " what you were doing in the card-room ? " 
 
 " Playing." 
 
 "Did you lose or win?" 
 
 " And do tell me ! " said Miss Lee, without 
 answering the question, "who is that lovely 
 woman ? "
 
 68 GKACE LEE. 
 
 " Oh ! you ought to know/^ replied Mrs. 
 Chesterfield, biting her lip, " she is your cousin, 
 Mrs. Gerald Lee. They have been three days 
 in Rome : she is consumptive, I believe. They 
 too — so I am told — were in treaty for that 
 bracelet on your arm, but you unconsciously 
 outbid them; and as gold rules everything in 
 this world — you conquered.^^ 
 
 Gerald Lee and his wife were leaving. - He 
 looked at her fondly and proudly; and smiling 
 she returned the glance. They had been mar- 
 ried years, but their love had not grown cold 
 or old. The look of Grace followed them until 
 the crowd closed on them : then she said with 
 much warmth, " God bless them both ! '^ 
 
 ^' Dreadfully dull afi'air,'' impatiently exclaimed 
 Mrs. Chesterfield. 
 
 " Delightful, indeed ! '' said Grace, misunder- 
 standing her meaning. 
 
 Well might she find it so. Introduced by 
 Madame de Montreuil, and recommended by her
 
 GEACE LEE. 69 
 
 large fortune, Miss Lee, wherever she went, 
 might reckon friends by the dozen. Before 
 Mrs. Chesterfield could reply, a gay group had 
 claimed the attention of Grace ; and the beauty 
 saw this rich plain girl, possess and enjoy flat- 
 tery, almost as sweet as any that had ever been 
 poured at her feet. 
 
 And her brown cheek was flushed with plea- 
 sure ; and if her bright eyes looked laughing 
 through the enchantment of the fete, they yet 
 sparkled like diamonds. Did she then like all 
 this homage ? why not. Oh, world ! thou art 
 indeed a charmer. We may rail at thee ; we 
 may call thee, false friend, traitor, yet thou ever 
 drawest us back ; thy breath may be too feverish, 
 but it is sweet ; thy voice may be false, but it is 
 delightful. 
 
 '^ Oh, life, thou art sweet ! " thought Grace. 
 She sat in her room alone, thinking. She was 
 too independent not to do singular things now 
 and then ; and too imaginative not to like them
 
 70' GRACE LEE. 
 
 all the better for being singular. She was young, 
 too; romantic,, and generous to folly. Full of 
 faith and hope, and with the happy presumption 
 of inexperience; never doubting her power to do 
 good, she smiled at the remembrance of that 
 day. She saw a brother saved from life-long 
 remorse, a reluctant girl restored to liberty ; a 
 worldly man tasting one sweet drop in his 
 worldly life ; and glorious, though delusive vision, 
 a nation liberated — all through her! 
 
 Mademoiselle Dupuis broke in on her dreams ; 
 she laid a sealed letter before her mistress and 
 withdrew. Grace looked at it curiously; it was 
 sent by her solicitor, with an apology for the 
 neglect of the clerk who had forgotten it in 
 some obscure drawer of the office. It was 
 directed to Miss Gertrude Lee, in a free round 
 hand she knew not, bore a date two years back, 
 and was thus worded : 
 
 " Madam — Thanks are poor things. I suspend
 
 GRACE LEE. 71 
 
 mine until I can prove to you that I know liow 
 to use the books your kindness now converts 
 from a six years' loan into a gift. 
 • "I have the honour^ Madam, to subscribe 
 myself, yours obediently, 
 
 "John Owen." 
 "Miss Gertrude Lee.^' 
 
 With a smile Grace put down John Owen's 
 letter. It seemed strange to be reminded of so 
 slight a gift on a day when she had poured 
 forth gold like dust. Yet she smiled happy, 
 for she saw herself a girl again standing by the 
 careless young man who then had not known 
 her face, who now did not remember her name, 
 and scarcely deigned to thank her : sweet at all 
 times of life is the memory of our youth ! That 
 short, haughty letter, had a strange charm for 
 Grace. She read it again and again, until it 
 brought on the restless fit the last few weeks 
 had lulled. The next day but one she had
 
 72 GRACE LEE. 
 
 left Rome. Where she was gone no one knew. 
 Some said tack to Egypt, others to Sicily and 
 Spain; but no one blamed. 
 
 Miss Lee was long remembered in the Holy 
 City; strange tales were long told of her gene- 
 rosity and munificence. Every one knew she 
 had given her magnificent lace to Mrs. 
 Chesterfield, that the best part of her costly 
 Roman treasures had remained in Palace 
 Colonna, and that the day before going she 
 had ventured to send her cameo bracelet to 
 Mrs. Gerald Lee, with a letter so frank and so 
 free, that her husband had permitted her to 
 accept the gift. Some said, too, that she had 
 portioned Prince Negri's sister, in a strange 
 fashion, and others declared that she had given 
 millions to Count Karlski ; and all agreed that 
 Grace Lee was rich as Croesus and generous as 
 a queen.
 
 GRACE LEE. 73 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The sun shone in Italy warm and golden, 
 but the wind was bleak in England. With a 
 dreary murmur it swept around the quiet 
 northern dwelling where, on a wintry day, 
 Grace had dreamed of endless wanderings. 
 Years had passed invisible over the place; the 
 fire burned as bright ; the parlour looked as 
 cheerful as then ; the same figures too were there 
 — Doctor Crankey bending over his History of 
 the Church; and within a few paces of him, 
 Miss Amy, sewing by the fire-side. The dark 
 girl, listening to the far wind, with the Hebrew 
 Bible on her knees, alone was absent. 
 
 "Now that is too bad of Grace,'' said
 
 74 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Doctor Crankey, putting down his pen. "Is 
 the girl dead ? " 
 
 " Oh ! dear Doctor, I hope not," nervously- 
 observed Miss Crankey; "when she last wrote 
 she said, 'I left you when the swallows were 
 going ; when they return, look out for me ; ' 
 and you know the first swallow came last week, 
 and-r— " 
 
 The Doctor impatiently requested to be al- 
 lowed to write. In five minutes, however, he 
 returned to the same theme. 
 
 " Grace,'^ he began ; here he paused ; the door 
 had opened, and Grace herself had entered. 
 
 She came in bareheaded, like one just sum- 
 moned from some domestic task, in a plain dark 
 gown, such as she wore formerly; the same in 
 bearing, aspect, and attire as of old. Miss 
 Crankey's work fell on her knees ; the Doctor 
 uttered a deep " Hem ! '^ 
 
 "Is it time to make the tea?^^ said Grace 
 to Miss Amy — " or can I go on with Saint Basil
 
 GBACE LEE. 75 
 
 a little longer?^' she added, turning to the 
 Doctor. 
 
 They remained ' mute ; Grace laughed, and sat 
 down between them. She laid her head on Miss 
 Amy's lap; her hand on the old priest's knee. 
 Miss Amy sobbed hysterically ; Doctor Crankey, 
 who scorned emotions as so many weaknesses, 
 said drily: 
 
 "And so thafs the way you come back from 
 Egypt, without a thing on your head, eh ? '' 
 
 " Egypt ! '' cried Grace, with a start ; " you 
 do not mean to say I have been to Egypt, or 
 that I was not here yesterday ? Nonsense ! " 
 she added, her head sinking back on his cousin's 
 knees, "I could tell you where we left off in 
 Saint Basil, just as I could tell Miss Amy it 
 was a blue pink with yellow leaves she made me 
 work last night. I pleaded for green foliage; 
 but she said yellow would look better with blue." 
 
 " That's very true ! " half sobbed Miss Amy ; 
 " the dear child has forgotten nothing." 
 
 E 2
 
 76 GRACE LEE. 
 
 '^ ril be bound she has forgotten her Greek/' 
 half grumbled Doctor Crankey. 
 
 Grace indignantly denied it ; poor Miss Amy 
 suppressed her sobbing, to act as peacemaker. 
 It was as if years had not passed ; as if Grace, 
 still a girl, had left them but a day. And of 
 her travels, of anything that had occurred since 
 that time, she refused to speak. Unattended, 
 alone, in plain attire, her suite, her luxuries left 
 behind, she had come to them to drink a deep, 
 refreshing draught from the sweet fountain of 
 the past. Grace had been about an hour with 
 her two friends, when the parlour door opened, 
 and a fair-haired boy of sixteen, with large 
 brilliant eyes, entered, with a book in his hand. 
 On seeing Grace he paused. She, too, looked 
 at him a little surprised. 
 
 " It is only James Crankey, my nephew," said 
 Doctor Crankey. " Come in, James ; you must 
 not be afraid of Grace, though she does know 
 Greek rather better than you do."
 
 GRACE LEE. 77 
 
 The young man took no notice of this speech ; 
 he sat down in the place which had been that of 
 Grace for years^ opened his book, and never once 
 raised his eyes the whole evening. 
 
 Doctor Crank ey had had a younger brother, 
 who died in Wales. This brother turned out to 
 have left Doctor Crankey a nephew, who one 
 day dropped down on his uncle with a brief 
 explanation : — '' his mother had sent him.^^ 
 
 Doctor Crankey was very angry ; then he 
 softened; then his heart yearned to the boy; 
 and at length he loved him. At once he set him 
 to Greek and Latin, and " James, though not so 
 quick a pupil as Grace,^' proved a good lad. All 
 this Miss Amy told to Grace the next morning. 
 
 Silent happy weeks of peace followed Miss 
 Lee's return to the home of her youth. To 
 Miss Amy's delight she began a magnificent 
 altar carpet, in Berlin wool. Greek, to Doctor 
 Crankey's disgust, was wholly neglected ; yet to 
 her, when too much engaged himself, he gave
 
 78 GEACE LEE. 
 
 the task of superintending his nephew's studies. 
 James Crankey was rather mortified to have 
 this feminine tutor; but his uncle would hear 
 of no demur, and the lad submitted. But 
 either the keen northern air, or hard study 
 disagreed with him; for after some time he fell 
 ill. Miss Amy nursed him tenderly, and to her 
 he seemed grateful; but when Grace occasionally 
 attended on him, to be civil seemed as much as 
 he could do ; his uncle, however, having severely 
 lectured him, James professed his repentance, 
 apologised, and threw a shade more of courtesy 
 in his behaviour towards Miss Lee. He was 
 slowly recovering, spring was smiling in the 
 North, when, on a bright April morning. Miss' 
 Crankey mysteriously requested five minutes^ 
 private talk with the Doctor. 
 
 " Certainly,^' he replied, surprised ; and he 
 prepared himself to hear that really Miss 
 Crankey could no longer stand the behaviour of 
 Ann the cook ; that a change there must be, &c.
 
 GRACE LEE. 79 
 
 " I do not know/^ began Miss Amy, *' if you 
 have noticed, Doctor, how slowly the dear boy 
 is getting on. I am afraid he is rather worse 
 than Mr. Bell thinks/' 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! the lad is growing/' 
 
 Miss Amy coughed, fidgetted, and looked for 
 the most distant fashion of hinting her meaning ; 
 but finding nothing, and perceiving that the 
 Doctor was growing impatient, she came out 
 with — 
 
 " My dear sir, that is not it ; your nephew — 
 the fact is, your nephew is in love." 
 
 Doctor Crankey opened his mouth and sank 
 back in his chair, aghast. 
 
 ^' In love ! " he said at length ; and with 
 what ? In the name of all the saints, with what ? 
 With Ann ? " 
 
 Miss Amy smiled, and shook her head. 
 
 ''With you, then?" shortly said the Doctor. 
 
 " With me ! " exclaimed poor Miss Amy, with 
 a blush and a sigh.
 
 80 GRACE LEE. 
 
 'But, mj dear madam, with whom else?" 
 
 ''Why, with Grace, of course/^ 
 
 " Nonsense ! '' derisively said Doctor Crankey ; 
 " that is out of the question, you know. Grace 
 is not a girl, or a woman." 
 
 "Eh!" exclaimed Miss Amy. 
 
 "I mean like another. Why, ma^am," he 
 impressively added, sitting straight in his chair, 
 " why Grace is almost as learned as myself, and I 
 am a priest and a Doctor of Divinity to boot — 
 Besides you forget that the boy cannot bear 
 her." 
 
 " Bless you. Doctor, he only pretends. James 
 is a nice lad, but he is sly, he makes believe to 
 hate her, that neither she nor you may guess the' 
 truth. Me he does not mind; that is why I 
 detected him. I thought it right to tell you, 
 because though he is so young it is a pity he 
 should suffer." 
 
 With this Miss Amy rose and left the Doctor 
 confounded at the folly and deceit of boys and
 
 GRACE LEE. 81 
 
 girls. He rose and walked up and down the 
 room, disturbed at so strange a matter. Sud- 
 denly as he passed by the parlour window^, the 
 Doctor caught sight of his nephew and Grace in 
 the garden. He paused and looked. 
 
 They sat reading together some classic author 
 under a young cherry tree, whose light shadow 
 waved to and fro on the grass. The book 
 rested on Miss Lee's lap. The fair head of 
 the youth looked over her shoulder; her eyes 
 read the page, his read her bending face 
 unconscious of his gaze. 
 
 They were reading Virgil. They had come to 
 the beautiful and well-known passage where 
 Venus in huntress-guise appears to her son ^neas 
 in the wood, 
 
 *' — Pedes vestis defluxit ad imos, 
 Et vera incessu patuit Dea." 
 
 " That is like you/' said James Crankey, in a 
 low breathless tone. 
 
 Grace looked up, her dark eyes all surprise ;
 
 82 GRACE LEE. 
 
 his blue eyes, all light, were fastened on her with 
 a sort of worship. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. James,'' said Grace smiling, 
 " a very pretty compliment — if it were only true ; 
 but I am not handsome you know.'' 
 
 "Ah! but you have such beautiful eyes, and 
 such beautiful hair," he replied, but trembling at 
 his own audacity, " and such a beautiful hand 
 and arm, and — and then you are so — " 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Pray go on," said Grace seriously, " I should 
 like to know my own merits; so what? — Good — " 
 
 "You are good, but that is not it." 
 
 " Learned ! Amiable ? No. Why Mr. James 
 what can it be ? " 
 
 " You will laugh at me if I tell you." 
 
 " On my word I will not." 
 
 " Well, then, you are so elegant." 
 
 Grace gave him an astonished glance. 
 
 He sat looking at her with a sort of breathless 
 admiration, but it was as innocent as his vears.
 
 GRACE LEE. 83 
 
 As she was hesitating what sort of a reply to give 
 him, Doctor. Crankey, opening the parlour window, 
 raised his voice and said sharply, 
 
 '' James, come in, I want to speak to you/^ 
 
 James rose and complied. Doctor Ci'ankey 
 calmly informed him that he intended him to 
 complete his studies abroad, and bade him 
 prepare to leave in a few days. The boy red- 
 dened. He knew well enough what all this 
 meant, for his mind was subtle and penetrating 
 beyond his years. 
 
 '^1 do not wish to leave England,^^ he said. 
 
 Doctor Crankey frowned, but curbed rising 
 wrath to reply. 
 
 '^Well, I shall see if I can find some place 
 for you in London.^^ 
 
 '^ I will not go to London,^' was the deliberate 
 answer. 
 
 Doctor Craukey's gray eyes flashed fire ; stern 
 words of authority rose to his lips; suddenly 
 he checked himself : James Crankey stood before
 
 84 GRACE LEE. 
 
 him, pale as death, but with inflexible will 
 stamped on every one of his slight effeminate 
 features. A vivid picture of his youth rose 
 before the priest ; he saw his own father sternly 
 enforcing his will on his own brother, the father 
 of James ; he saw that brother^ s pale face of 
 still revolt, the very image of the face before 
 him ; and he remembered how, when that 
 brother left his home the same day and never 
 returned, but made himself a home and died 
 amongst strangers, he had in his heart blamed 
 his father's harshness. He sighed and said, 
 mildly : 
 
 *' We will talk about that another time, James ; 
 and now, boy, leave me. I want to write.'' 
 
 In the course of the day Doctor Crankey 
 briefly told Grace what had passed, and, without 
 entering into any explanation, he added : " And 
 now, Grace, persuade the boy, if you can. I 
 will not force him; but if he will not yield, 
 he must simply go back to his mother."
 
 GRACE LEE. 85 
 
 Miss Lee, without asking on what ground 
 she was chosen for this office, promised to do 
 her best. That same day she sat alone working 
 at her frame in the parlour, when James 
 Crankey entered. He took no notice of her, 
 but went and sat at the other end of the room. 
 
 "Mr. James," said Grace. 
 
 He looked up, but did not move. 
 
 " I wish you would come here." 
 
 He came, his book in his hand. 
 
 "And sit down there," said Grace, pushing 
 towards him the stool on which her feet rested. 
 James sat down. " And just hold this skein of 
 silk for me, will you?" 
 
 If Hercules wielded a distaff to please his 
 beloved, poor James, who was but a boy, might 
 well hold a skein of silk for Grace Lee. When 
 she had half wound it off, she sank back on 
 her chair like one tired with the task, and, 
 looking down in the lad^s blushing face, she 
 said, smiling:
 
 86 GRACE LEE. 
 
 '^And so, Mr. James, you will not go to 
 London — why so ? ^' He did not reply. She 
 resumed: "1 quite hoped you would come and 
 spend some time with me there.^' 
 
 " You are going to London," he interrupted. 
 
 " Did you think I meant to stay here ? No, 
 indeed; I mean to coax away Doctor Crankey 
 and Miss Amy; and I hoped, too, Mr. James, 
 to coax you.'^ 
 
 James reddened deeply. 
 
 '^But since you will not — " said Grace. 
 
 "Anything — anywhere with you," he ex- 
 claimed, bending over her hand and pressing 
 his lips to it in a transport of joy and fondness. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. James, Mr. James," cried Grace, 
 " my poor skein ! — " 
 
 James rose abashed. 
 
 " It is done for," said Grace, smiling ; " and 
 it was my best skein." 
 
 Thus matters were compromised. James 
 Crankey naturally thought to leave the North
 
 GRACE LEE. 87 
 
 with Miss Lee, but Doctor Crankey wanted to 
 consult a book in tbe British Museum ; he could 
 not delay his departure a day; he exacted that 
 . his nephew should accompany him, and this 
 time James Crankey thought it wise to submit. 
 
 They were gone, and Grace remained alone 
 with Miss Crankey. The spring was beautiful 
 and pure, and fresh as the morning. The 
 days seemed long as summer days; the serene 
 nights were all repose, and as the season of the 
 year so was the life of these two women. They 
 were alike in nothing; yet they were fondly 
 attached; Miss Lee loved her old guardian 
 better than any other living creature, but next 
 to him stood Miss Amy; Doctor Crankey was 
 certainly first in Miss Crankey's heart, but 
 after him came Grace, and in this common 
 affection their mutual love met and strengthened. 
 Grace had succeeded in coaxing Miss Amy to 
 promise to accompany her to town ; but not 
 without regret had Miss Amy agreed to leave
 
 88 GRACE LEE. 
 
 her quiet home. London bewildered her, she 
 said; Grace only laughed at her fears. They 
 sat together by the open window; the sun 
 was setting behind faint blue hills; from the 
 far horizon came long rays of light and dark 
 shadows, that swept across a vast landscape. 
 Grace remembered the Roman Campagna, the 
 Appian Way, the tombs, ruins, circuses, fallen 
 palaces, and broken aqueducts, that stand in 
 the midst of that silent desert ; and what she 
 remembered Grace described to her friend in 
 vivid and glowing language. 
 
 "Yes,'' said Miss Amy, rather sadly, "it must 
 be beautiful — there are lovely spots in this valley 
 of tears.'' 
 
 " Valley of tears ! " echoed Grace, with a 
 joyous laugh ; " dear Miss Amy, this world is 
 a paradise ; life is a cup almost too sweet." 
 
 "You are young," said Miss Amy, in a low 
 tone. " Grace," she added, after a pause, " I 
 feel a little poorly to-night— do you mind going
 
 GRACE LEE. 89 
 
 up-stairs and shutting up — I cannot trust Ann/^ 
 Grace readily assented; Miss Amy remained 
 alone. 
 
 " I too was young once ! " she thought, as 
 she sat dreaming by the window. She went 
 into the past ; years vanished from her brow ; 
 her young form, her fresh face, her light step, 
 returned. Amy was a girl again. And in the 
 cool of early morning, with the dew bright on 
 the grass, Amy ran out in her father's orchard. 
 She filled her apron with the fallen fruit; she 
 sang the burden of an old ballad ; she listened 
 for a whistle, for a harsh yet loved voice that 
 called out " Amy ! ^^ The voice was no dream. 
 "Amy, where are you?^^ it said, "Amy speak, 
 are you here ? '' 
 
 It was Doctor Crankey, who had unexpectedly 
 returned. Miss Amy rose. She clasped her hands. 
 
 " John ! John ! " she cried, " I never liked 
 Richard; indeed, I never did." And she sank 
 back in her chair.
 
 90 GRACE LEE. 
 
 When Grace came in bearing the light, she 
 paused on the threshold at the strange sight she 
 saw. Miss Amy had fainted; Doctor Crankey 
 stood by her supporting her head; his gray 
 locks swept her pale face; his trembling lips 
 muttered unusual words of endearment. 
 
 Grace sprang forward to her friend; she took 
 her in her arms ; Miss Amy was inanimate and 
 cold. Still senseless, they bore her to her room. 
 A doctor was sent for; he came, and looked 
 grave. Grace sat up by Miss Amy the whole 
 of that night, the whole of the next day. Miss 
 Amy never woke to consciousness. The sur- 
 prise, the sudden shock, had acted too strongly 
 on a frame long weakened by a secret and pa- 
 tiently-borne disease. On the third evening she 
 opened her languid eyes, smiled at Grace, on 
 whose warm bosom her weak head rested, at 
 Doctor Crankey, standing with folded arms at 
 the foot of her bed, and with that smile still on 
 her lips, she died, gentle as she had lived.
 
 GIIACE LEE. 91 
 
 Doctor Crankey bore the loss of his quiet 
 cousin with a Christian fortitude some would 
 have called indifference ; but at the end of a 
 fortnight he suddenly said to Grace : 
 
 " Grace, I cannot stand it any longer ; I must 
 leave the house/^ 
 
 And then Grace learned, that to live in the home 
 which the death of his cousin had rendered vacant, 
 was more than harsh Doctor Crankey could bear. 
 
 He was a man quick to resolve, and prompt 
 to act. In a few days he had sold off all he 
 possessed, save his books, and he left with Miss 
 Lee the cottage where the last fifteen years of 
 his life had been spent in happy peace. 
 
 Before she left, Grace went into the garden. 
 She gathered the flowers Miss Amy had loved 
 to tend; she went up to the closed and silent 
 door, that never more would open to give her 
 welcome. She laid her lips on the spot which 
 had so often yielded to Miss Amy^s gentle hand, 
 and her bright eyes filled with tears.
 
 92 GRACE LEE. 
 
 ^^ God bless you, little house/^ she said in her 
 heart. " I have been very happy in you, God 
 bless you; and blessed, too, be they who shall 
 yet sit by your hearth, who shall know the 
 shelter of your roof: again and again from my 
 heart I bless them ! " 
 
 She turned away, and gave the solitary 
 dwelling, the quiet garden, the lonely landscape 
 one last fond look; yet more of love than of 
 sorrow or regret. Never more did that calm 
 picture greet her eyes. Once, in after days, 
 she was near the spot; she passed on without 
 seeing it. She kept her lost home as she had 
 left it — a fair image of her happy youth.
 
 GRACE LEE. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Grace," said Doctor Crankey to her, when 
 they reached London ; " I am a priest, a studious 
 man; you are a girl, gay, rich, and young. I 
 will live under your roof, but I cannot share 
 your life." 
 
 Thus it was agreed between them. 
 
 A house in Park Lane awaited Miss Lee ; it 
 was luxuriously furnished, but to luxury she 
 added elegance and taste. She collected ancient 
 pictures; she purchased the best productions of 
 modern genius. Miss Lee was soon known as an 
 enlightened patroness of the fine arts. Grace 
 liked clever people — who would not like them ? 
 She liked intellect, brilliant speech, the seduction
 
 94 GRACE LEE. 
 
 and the charm of prolonged conversations. 
 She took a matchless cook; she gave Thursday 
 dinners; and she had clever people to pick and 
 choose from. Her circle, or her coterie, call it 
 as you will, soon became one of the most 
 vecherche in London, The time for literary pa- 
 trons 'is over, else who knows of what modern 
 Tasso Grace might not have been the Leonora. 
 As it was, more than one poem was sung in her 
 praise; more than one book, destined to live as 
 long as the language, was dedicated to her, and 
 shall bear her name down to far posterity. 
 
 Miss Lee was no courtier of the great; but 
 she had too much tact and taste not to appreciate 
 the ease, the polish, the good breeding, the grace 
 which, as a general rule, the nobly born possess ; 
 and they, to do them justice, did not give her 
 time to pine for their charming society. It was 
 surprising even to Miss Lee's candid temper, how 
 many earls, how many countesses, marchionesses, 
 and viscounts, lords and ladies of every degree.
 
 GEACE LEE. 95 
 
 she had unconsciously met abroad^ and been 
 introduced to. Grace was heartily ashamed of 
 her bad memory,, and finding her acquaintance 
 . claimed by so many distinguished and agreeable 
 persons, did her best to make amends. 
 
 She had not mixed much with the world j she 
 naturally committed some blunders and fell into 
 some mistakes. But she had an original turn of 
 mind, free and natural manners. She was pro- 
 nounced '^ piquante" — a charming creature. 
 
 Within a few weeks she had been presented, 
 invited to the great court fancy ball, where the 
 splendour of her middle age costume excited 
 universal admiration ; she stood one of the 
 highest in the high world; her cup of honours 
 was full. At least she thought so ; but it having 
 become known. Heaven knows how, that she was 
 learned, various societies, of whose existence she 
 was unconscious, elected her one of their learned 
 corps, and thus to her amusement Grace woke 
 one morning and found herself an academician.
 
 96 GRACE LEE. 
 
 The sun of this world may not be the truest 
 and the best; but it is sunshine. In its light 
 and warmth the glad southern nature of Grace 
 revelled freely; charmed, but not deceived, taking 
 the world as it is, she enjoyed her splendid 
 fortune, and everything that fortune could give; 
 and no morose wisdom, no sour philosophy, 
 brought so much as a shadow on her brow. 
 When flatterers went rather too far she laughed ; 
 when the designing ventured too much on her 
 credulity, she generously forgave them. The evil, 
 as well as the good side of things she saw, but at 
 the good and fair side alone would she look. 
 
 Yet spite this tendency, and it is a dangerous 
 one, Grace forgot not the suffering and the needy 
 ones of this world. Like all persons of a joyous 
 nature, she was generous. It delighted her to 
 give, even though her gifts were not needed. 
 She loved to see happy faces around her, and 
 sometimes she used to say that she hated but 
 one thing in this world, and that was a sad face.
 
 GRACE LEE. 97 
 
 More lavish^ perhaps^ than wise, she gave to 
 whosoever asked. Better err by giving too much, 
 she said, than by giving too little. Begging 
 letters, applications of every description, poured 
 upon her. They exhausted neither her patience 
 nor her liberality. She would have thought 
 herself niggardly of spirit had she stopped there. 
 On every charitable or liberal institution, far or 
 near, her hand invisibly poured a golden shower. 
 The simultaneousness of the gifts, a certain 
 character that pervaded them, struck observant 
 and curious persons ; they commented, they con- 
 jectui'ed, they could not imagine who it possibly 
 could be. At length their suspicions lit on a 
 certain illustrious personage of noted benevo- 
 lence — Her Serene Highness Princess Amelia, 
 and having found so worthy an object, there 
 complacently rested. 
 
 And Grace, amused to find their sagacity so 
 wide the truth, pursued her round of secret and 
 bountiful charities, of pleasure, of gaiety, of 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 GRACE LEE. 
 
 intercourse with the great, with the gifted of this 
 workl, and night and morning she said to herself, 
 '^The world is beautiful; life is sweet!" 
 
 Towards the close of the season, the Honour- 
 able Mrs. Chesterfield left Rome, and returned 
 to England. There, to her great surprise, and to 
 use her own words, she found everyone raving 
 about Miss Lee. Miss Lee had jewels fit for 
 a queen ; Miss Lee had more changes of attire 
 than there are days in the year ; Miss Lee gave 
 the most exquisite dinners, the most brilliant 
 parties, the most beautiful balls; Miss Lee had 
 the most splendid liveries, the most elegant 
 equipage, and if Miss Lee was not by this a 
 duchess, Miss Lee might blame herself. To 
 crown all, Miss Lee had turned out to be an 
 admirable horsewoman. She had bought, and 
 what was more difficult, she rode, " Vagabond,'^ 
 the most beautiful, the most perverse, the most 
 dangerous of spirited Arabians; "Vagabond," 
 who, spite his beauty, his ebon coat, his flowing
 
 GRACE LEE. 99 
 
 mane, his eyes of fire, had been sold five times 
 within nine months for his misdemeanors ; 
 " Vagabond," who had so irreverently upset the 
 Premier, and thereby caused a change of 
 ministry, a fall in the funds, and nearh^ brought 
 on a European war. 
 
 ^'I am not of an envious nature,'^ thought 
 Mrs. Chesterfield, ^'but really if there was a 
 thing I wished for, it was to ride that creature, 
 and now the aggravating girl has taken him 
 from me ; I always had a longing for him since 
 he broke poor dear uncle's ribs." 
 
 Spite this provoking incident she called the 
 very same day on the aggravating girl. She 
 found Miss Lee richly dressed, stepping into her 
 carriage, with a large shaggy Newfoundland to 
 keep her company. In her off'-hand way. Mrs. 
 Chesterfield at once proposed sharing her drive 
 to the Park, but in the same breath observed, 
 
 '' You do not mean to say you are going to 
 
 have that creature with you ? " 
 
 r z
 
 100 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Poor Scamp ! '^ said Miss Lee, patting his 
 rough head, " he is quite harmless ; however, 
 since you object to him, let him stay within/^ 
 
 And to his own displeasure, and to the lady's 
 great satisfaction, Scamp was ordered away, 
 
 " Much more pleasant than having a great big 
 dog with one,'' said Mrs. Chesterfield, reclining 
 back in the luxurious carriage, " * Scamp,' too, 
 did you christen him ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ; I even attempted to unchristen 
 him, but he would answer no other name." 
 
 '^ A fit companion for ' Vagabond.' Is it true 
 that you ride him, and that people stand in rows 
 to look on ? " 
 
 "That I ride ^Vagabond,' is quite true; that 
 people stand to look on, seems to me rather 
 doubtful, for six in the morning is my hour. 
 But you give me no news of Rome." 
 
 " Dreadfully dull place,'' half-yawned Mrs. 
 Chesterfield. " A little after you left. Prince 
 Negri being fairly ruined, made a vow never to
 
 GRACE LEE. 101 
 
 touch a card, and married his sister to Eugene 
 de Montreuil, who proceeded to France with his 
 bride, got elected for I know not what unkicky 
 department, and now represents his country, and 
 makes speeches in the Legislative Assembly of 
 France. As to Count Karlski, of course you 
 know his unfortunate end. He was mad enough 
 to get up another Polish insurrection, and was 
 shot dead in the first engagement, which, after 
 all, might be the very luckiest thing for a rest- 
 less spirit like his, I wonder what has become of 
 his mother ? " 
 
 "She is dead,'^ replied Grace with a sigh. 
 ^' She died unconscious of the truth, happy and 
 hopeful to the last.'' And for a while she re- 
 mained silent, for she remembered the Colosseum, 
 and the Countess praying by the cross, and she 
 and her son walking up and down the green 
 grass, and now all this was past and gone, like 
 the shadows on the Roman ruin, like the beauty 
 and the light of that Italian day. Mrs. Chester-
 
 102 GRACE LEE. 
 
 field did not allow her to reflect long. As car- 
 riage after carriage passed and Miss Lee and 
 those within received and gave tokens of recog- 
 nition, the beauty^ who had been some time out 
 of England^ began to wonder at this extensive 
 acquaintance, and, not knowing or remembering 
 who half the people were, questioned Grace. 
 The most ari. tocratic names, English and foreign, 
 dropped from Miss Lee's lips; had she been 
 reared in the very centre of the great world, she 
 could not have been more easy and careless. 
 Mrs. Chesterfield leaned back in the carriage, 
 looked at her, and said with her well-bred 
 impertinence, 
 
 "Why, you know every one. Well, and who 
 is this, now? " 
 
 " The wife of a foreign Charge d' Affaires ; she 
 is very handsome and very like Mrs. Gerald Lee : 
 how is she ? '^ 
 
 '' My dear, she is dead. She was consumptive, 
 I never thought that pink colour of hers was
 
 GRACE LEE. 103 
 
 natural ; she died in Kome last May. Her 
 husband left Rome at once.^' 
 
 '' Dead ! " said Grace, ^' that beautiful creature, 
 of whom he was so proud, so fond. Ah ! death is 
 indeed pitiless ! " 
 
 " Very true. However, he bears it admirably, 
 and by way of driving away grief is giving him- 
 self up to philanthropy. He is now deep in the 
 Female Asylum — what do you think of it ? " 
 
 " The Female Asylum ! Ah ! I remember 
 reading something of it in the papers ; a sort of 
 place of refuge for destitute girls, founded by a 
 poor girl since dead, Abigail Smith. I under- 
 stood it was going to ruin/^ 
 
 " Abigail Smith ! What a methodistical name. 
 However, as you say, the whole thing was going 
 to ruin when that dear creature, Princess Amelia, 
 sent a thousand-pound note. At once a com- 
 mittee was formed, and now the Female Asylum 
 is in a fair way of becoming the most useful, 
 interesting, and flourishing establishment of the
 
 104 GRACE LEE. 
 
 kind. It is self-supporting, or very nearly so ; it 
 has manufactures_, it has baths, a library, a lecture- 
 room, a wash-rcom — I know not what. Dear 
 Princess Amelia, she is indeed a benefactress of 
 humanity !" 
 
 Grace looked amazed. It so chanced that the 
 results of her munificent, but carelessly given 
 donation, had not reached her ear. She had 
 never intended to do more than relieve from 
 temporary distress an interesting establishment, 
 and now she heard herself called " a benefactress 
 of humanity." 
 
 " Have you never seen it ? '' resumed Mrs. 
 Chesterfield. " "Why then you really must, and 
 this very day ; it is no farther than Clapham." 
 
 Miss Lee raised no objection, and to Clapham 
 they accordingly went. The carriage drew up 
 before a large unfinished brick building in the 
 Elizabethan style, which had already replaced 
 the narrow hous3, where for years Abigail Smith 
 had sheltered a few girls as obscure as herself.
 
 GRACE LEE. 105 
 
 Already was the stately gate adorned with 
 Female Asylum, in broad gilt letters. In 
 answer to the footman's ring, a pretty girl in 
 close white cap, blue gown, white cape, and black 
 apron, the uniform of the establishment, opened 
 the door and showed the ladies through a gay 
 flower-garden to the house. There, in a cool, 
 green parlour, they were received by the head 
 matron, Mrs. Jones, a formal and reverend 
 person in black silk dress, who sat making 
 entries in a broad ledger. 
 
 '^ And how are we getting on, Mrs. Jones ? " 
 patronisingly said Mrs. Chesterfield. " I have 
 brought Miss Lee, that she may become one of 
 your customers." 
 
 "We shall be most happy," replied Mrs. 
 
 Jones, looking at Grace rather condescendingly 
 
 " and we are getting on very well indeed ; more 
 
 orders for baby-linen came this morning ; and 
 
 there is to be a public dinner, as our chairman 
 
 was just telling me." 
 
 j?3
 
 106 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " Is Mr. Lee here ? " interrupted Mrs. Chester- 
 field. 
 
 "Yes, ma^am, writing in the board-room.^' 
 
 " Oh, we must go and see him ; you don't 
 object/' she added, turning to Grace. 
 
 " No, certainly.^' 
 
 To the board-room they went. A solemn- 
 looking room it was, with stiff grey curtains, big 
 books, large chests already full of papers and 
 parchments, with a large plan of the Female 
 Asylum in a frame; a view of the same, ditto, 
 and a little wooden model of it on a stand. It 
 also had a green baize square table, before which 
 sat Mr. Gerald Lee reading and sorting papers. 
 
 He was but little altered, for he was a cool 
 man of the world ^ one who locked grief so deep 
 in his own heart, that God alone knew what 
 became of it there. Yet as he rose to receive 
 the ladies, and as he saw and recognised Grace, 
 a slight change came over his face, but it quickly 
 passed ; and when Mrs. Chesterfield said, in her
 
 GRACE LEE. 107 
 
 off-hand way^ " Now, Mr. Cliairman, do show 
 us over this place, will you ? and do not leave us 
 at the mercy of that pedantic old fool, the head 
 matron/^ Mr. Lee smilingly assented, and at 
 once complied with the lady's request. 
 
 " Insolent creature ! '^ exclaimed Mrs. Jones, 
 who had unfortunately overheard the disrespectful 
 speech, and resolved to show Mrs. Chesterfield 
 f '' that she and not her ladyship was head matron 
 of the Female Asylum,^^ she followed the ladies 
 out of the board-room. 
 
 Their first visit was to the wards, large airy 
 rooms, that held one hundred snow-white beds; 
 thence they proceeded to the wash-house, where 
 half-a-dozen girls were deep in soap-suds, and 
 another half dozen were busy drying, starching, 
 and ironing. Thence again they went on to the 
 kitchen, were more were cooking; and where 
 they were shown, triumphantly, a kettle of im- 
 mense size, and extraordinary loaves. 
 
 " So much,'' said Mr. Lee, " for the domestic
 
 108 GRACE LEE. 
 
 part of the house, and now for the intellectual." 
 And leading them up again, he opened a door 
 and showed them into a pretty room furnished 
 with book, globes, slates ; and where four in- 
 telligent looking girls sat drawing, reading, and 
 studying. They looked up a moment on seeing 
 the visitors; then demurely returned to their 
 different occupations. " This is our library, 
 class, and lecture room," resumed Mr. Lee^ as 
 they left, " we hope to have a much larger one 
 when the building is completed ; and now Miss 
 Lee, I shall take you to the vital part of the 
 establishment, — the work-room." 
 
 The work-room was a vast hall, where seventy 
 or eighty girls in white caps and collars-, black 
 aprons and blue frocks, divided and sub-divided, 
 overlooked by two matrons, ruled by six moni- 
 tors, were all busily and variously engaged. 
 Some cut out the worK, and- some put it to- 
 gether; and some sewed it with the finest of 
 fine sewing : some made lace ; some plaited
 
 GRACE LEE. 109 
 
 straw, some embroidered ; in short, every easy 
 female labour by wliicb some money can be 
 earned, seemed represented in the Female 
 Asylum. There was no actual speech, but a 
 low murmur like that of a busy hive filled the 
 room. Through the windows the sunlight 
 streamed in rays of gold. It lit up every group 
 of girls in their plain but neat attire, with their 
 young and cheerful faces. Grace was charmed, 
 and turning to Gerald Lee, warmly expressed 
 her approbation. 
 
 " Yes,'-' said Mr. Lee, '' it is not amiss. The 
 person,^' (poor Abigail you were a "person,^' 
 not a lady), ^Svho first established the Female 
 Asylum, was certainly most praiseworthy; but 
 she was ignorant and had narrow views; we 
 have certainly improved on her plan.^^ 
 
 *' Oh ! it is beautiful ! " enthusiastically ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Chesterfield, ^^and you have no 
 idea how cheap they work : French cambric 
 handkerchiefs, beautifully embroidered, seven-
 
 110 GRACE LEE. 
 
 and-sixpence a-piece. Everything was mucli 
 dearer in the time of that Abby Smith. But 
 as Mr. Lee says, it is all now on an improved 
 plan. Thanks to an excellent committee, and 
 admirable chairman/' she added, laughing. 
 
 '^And a thousand-pound note/' he replied^ 
 smiling. 
 
 " Inded/' said Grace, very earnestly ; " I can 
 assure you I never contemplated working such 
 marvels." 
 
 Mr. Lee and Mrs. Chesterfield looked at her. 
 " You," at length exclaimed the lady, '^ do you 
 mean to say it was you sent the thousand- 
 pound note ? " 
 
 Grace now conscious of her self-betrayal, 
 remained mute. She could not deny, and never 
 equivocated. 
 
 " Well," resumed Mrs. Chesterfield, with 
 increasing surprise, " you certainly are odd ! 
 The idea of letting every one think it was 
 Princess Amelia who had sent that money."
 
 GRACE LEE. Ill 
 
 Before Grace could reply, the head matron 
 had stepped forward, and in a voice of the 
 deepest emotion, began : 
 
 "Your Serene Highness/^ 
 
 "Nonsense! Mrs. Jones,^^ impatiently inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Chesterfield; "this is Miss Lee, 
 not Princess Amelia, and — " She could not 
 go on. The whole work-room was in a state 
 of confusion and disorder. Cutters-out, putters- 
 together, lace-makers, straw-plaiters, embroi- 
 derers, matrons and monitors, had suddenly 
 suspended every task; first to gaze with open- 
 mouth and eyes at the giver of the thousand- 
 pound note, then to gather around and press as 
 near her as they could. 
 
 " Mrs. Jones ! '^ indignantly exclaimed Mrs. 
 Chesterfield, feeling too great a pressure on her 
 aristocratic shoulders, "will you keep oflP these 
 girls ! '' 
 
 " Young ladies ! " solemnly began Mrs. Jones 
 — vain attempt — her voice was at once drowned
 
 Il2 GRACE LEE. 
 
 in the universal rumour and confusion. Various 
 were the statements that flew from mouth 
 to mouth. " Princess Amelia was come ; '^ 
 " Princess Amelia was the dark lady ;" '' No, 
 the fair lady was Her Serene Highness."'^ But, 
 dark or fair, it was agreed that she had just 
 presented the chairman with another thousand- 
 pound note. The natural result of such exciting 
 news was an increase of confusion. In vain 
 Mrs. Jones called out severely^ '' Monitors^ what 
 are you doing ? '' The monitors were at the 
 head of the rebellion ; in short, authority was 
 set at nought ; " Mrs. Jones was amazed at 
 them, she was." Mr. Lee, after vainly attempt- 
 ing to re-establish order, gave it up. Mrs. 
 Chesterfield was highly disgusted; and Grace 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 '^Mr. Lee, will you see us safe into the 
 carriage from this female mob," . at length said 
 the beauty, in great scorn. 
 
 Mr. Lee made way for them, with a smile ;
 
 GRACE LEE. 115 
 
 the carriage was safely reached ; Mrs. Chester- 
 field stepped in^ looking sulkily at the whole 
 Female Asylum, which had poured out after 
 them; and Mr. Lee was handing in Grace, 
 when a pretty girl of sixteen, with a blush and 
 a curtsey, presented Miss Lee with a nosegay 
 of newly-gathered flowers. Scarcely had Grace 
 thanked her, smiling, when the head matron, 
 to whom some invisible genius had in the 
 meanwhile wafted her best cap, stepped up to 
 begin a formal address. Grace forestalled her. 
 
 " Mrs. Jones,^' she said, " I have a favour to 
 ask of you. Firstly, then, will you be so good 
 as to forgive these girls their somewhat unruly 
 behaviour; and secondly, will you, in my name 
 and with my best wishes, give them a holiday 
 and a treat.^^ She slipped some gold pieces 
 into the matron^s hand ; Mrs. Jones smiled and 
 curtsied, whilst a deep murmur of satisfaction 
 testified how grateful to their feelings the 
 inmates of the Female Asylum found the latter
 
 114 GEACE LEE. 
 
 part of this speech. Grace looked at them 
 smiling; their pleasure made her glad. She 
 saw them flushed and jo3^ous; their eyes fixed 
 on her with eager interest and curiosity — all 
 anxious to win a smile, a look; many audibly 
 uttering their admiration of her person_, of 
 her eyes, of her hair, of her rich silk dress, 
 of her carriage, of her horses. She heard 
 some blessings, too, and drove away with- a 
 light heart. They were only girls — only poor 
 girls; but they were human beings, and for 
 the moment the whole homage of their hearts 
 was at her feet. 
 
 Vain were it to describe the state of excitement 
 in which she left the Female Asylum. At length' 
 it partially subsided, and with Mrs. Jones's 
 solemn approbation, a commHtee was formed to 
 sit and decide on the important question : " What 
 piece of their own work the inmates of the Femal^^' 
 Asylum should offer to their benefactress ? '^ - 
 
 And now Grace was known as a gay sister of
 
 GKACE LEE. 115 
 
 charity ; as a sort of Mrs. Fry in tlie world. 
 Nothing serious can be discussed or accomplished 
 in England without a dinner. At that dinner, 
 which was to put the finishing stroke to the 
 Female Asylum, Miss Lee's health was proposed 
 and drunk with immense applause. No school, 
 no asylum, no charitable institution, but had her 
 name first on its lists, but ranked her amongst 
 its patronesses. Her name was mentioned with 
 honour in public meetings; her presence was 
 solicited as a favour. She was requested to 
 preside on committees, she received addresses 
 and deputations ; she was, indeed, as Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield had said, " A benefactress of humanity.^^ 
 
 Oh, Abigail ! Abigail Smith ! sleeping in your 
 neglected grave in the Clapham churchyard, what 
 were your years of to^l, j^our youth wasted in 
 superhuman labours, your very being sacrificed 
 to heroic duty, — what were they, when weighed 
 in the scale of human respect, and human 
 opinion, with some money ?
 
 116 GRACE LEE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The dull liglit of a London day stole in 
 through the dim glazed window of a miserable 
 London attic. It was low, narrow, meanly 
 furnished, with an indifferent bed, a ricketty 
 chest of drawers, a ragged carpet, plenty of heavy 
 books, and no dearth of dust. By the taSle, 
 vainly studying, sat one whom we have se^ja. 
 before. 
 
 He was a man of thirty or so, tall, thin ana 
 stern in aspect. His dark, deep-set eyes, anm 
 swarthy face, were both ardent and resolute 5 
 every line was deep and passionate ; every feature 
 had its meaning, but that meaning, though not 
 mean or evil, was not pleasant. There was too
 
 GKAGE LEE. 117 
 
 mucli indifference^ and too little of true content 
 in the seeming repose of tlie brow; something 
 too unquiet and gloomy in the bent look; too 
 reckless a smile played around the scornful lips ; 
 the face, though evidently that of a man of 
 intellect and education, bore too much the wild 
 and lawless cast which may become a life of 
 liberty, but which jars with the restraints of 
 civilisation. It betokened, and truly, one to 
 whom inward or external subjection was un- 
 known ; a proud, stiff-necked, self-willed man, 
 whose temper had no more of the beautiful or 
 loveable than his outward appearance, and yet 
 like that too, was not without a certain careless 
 and unconscious greatness as plainly pervading 
 his whole nature, as it was stamped on his brow, 
 and impressed in every dark lineament of his 
 mien and motion of his bearing. 
 
 Hatred of obscurity had induced John Owen 
 to forsake his original profession for the bar. 
 Sanguine in the resources of life for whosoever
 
 118 GRACE LEE. 
 
 knows how to control and master tliem, and 
 confident in his own power of ensuring success, 
 he had given time, money, labour, and like a 
 bold maiiner, risked his all in one venture. 
 And now, when all he could do was done, he 
 could not land and claim the realm he had 
 conquered; but, within view of the shore, he 
 was tossed on a sea of miserable doubts and 
 delays. He could have borne a total wreck 
 better than this tantalising suspense. Conscious 
 of his powerlessness, he fumed in his attic like 
 a lion in his den. Was he, day after day, to 
 haunt courts where his voice could never be 
 heard ? To become the laughing-stock of men 
 who, without the one-tenth of his talent, were 
 eminent and famous? Was he to waste in 
 miserable struggles for his daily bread, for 
 the clothes he wore, and the shelter of a 
 roof, in reports for the newspapers, in paltry 
 little articles for third-class magazines, the 
 energy, vigour, and living eloquence meant
 
 GRACE LEE. 119 
 
 to serve nobler purposes and a higher ambi- 
 tion? 
 
 A knock at the door disturbed these bitter and 
 discouraging reflections. 
 
 " Come in/' sharply said Mr. Owen. 
 
 A slipshod servant girl half opened the door. 
 
 '•' Please sir/^ she said_, " Mrs. Skelton would 
 like to know the time.^^ 
 
 Mr. Owen took out his watch, a handsome gold 
 repeater. 
 
 " It is just six/' he replied. 
 
 The maid went down with the reply to the 
 owner of the house, Mrs. Skelton, a widow of 
 kind heart and small means. 
 
 '^ And you saw his watch?" said Mrs. Skelton. 
 
 " Indeed I did, ma'am." 
 
 " Well, Ann, watch or no watch, I'll be bound 
 that Mr. Owen has eaten nothing to-day. I 
 looked in his cupboard and drawers last night, 
 and there was nothing in either ; and you know, 
 Ann, that the whole of this blessed day he hasn't
 
 120 GRACE LEE. 
 
 been out. So where's the food to come from ? 
 How did lie look ? 
 
 " Just as usual, ma'am." 
 
 ^^If I could send him up a cup of tea and 
 a rasher of bacon," continued Mrs. Skelton, 
 seeming distressed, " but I dare not ; he would 
 leave the house at once — poor dear young gen- 
 tleman ! " 
 
 " Law, ma'am," said Ann, whose feelings were 
 not quite so tender, '^ I dare say he is used to 
 it." 
 
 And perhaps he was ; and there is no doubt, 
 Ann, that you are right, and that habit does 
 a great deal; however, habit or not, Mr. Owen 
 had certainly tasted nothing that day beyond 
 bread purchased the night before, and a cup of 
 cold water. But this was not the hardest side 
 of his lot. Enough pity has been wasted on the 
 hunger and thirst of genius perishing for want 
 in a garret ; keep a little for genius vainly revolt- 
 ing against obscurity, vainlj^ striving for the
 
 GEACE LEE. 121 
 
 broad daylight and free air of fame. Ambition 
 may not be a virtue^ but it is the spur that 
 urges a noble steed to a glorious goal ; its dis- 
 appointments are felt with a keenness propor- 
 tionate to the greatness of its aim ; it has keener 
 pangs than those of hunger^ a thirst more 
 wasting than that which human drink can sate. 
 
 He sat reading, as we said, vainly studying a 
 profession that had never yet given him his daily 
 bread. At length daylight failed ; he rose and 
 paced up and down his narrow room that im- 
 prisoned a spirit as restless as that of any wild 
 creature of the woods; then, suddenly pausing 
 near the window, he threw it open. Before him 
 rose brick walls, red with the flush of dying day : 
 above roofs and tall chimneys spread a blue sky, 
 dimmed with London smoke. A sudden vision 
 passed athwart his mind or his heart, — for is it not 
 with the heart Ave remember a loved spot ? He 
 saw a wild Welsh dell, the warm sunlight gliding 
 down the green mountain side ; above, a breezy
 
 122 GRACE LEE. 
 
 blue sky, below a rushing torrent white with 
 foam ; and by the torrent, vainly dreaming, a boy, 
 in whose heart already burned the pride and 
 ambition of man. Brief was the vision; from 
 one of the neighbouring courts rose the voice of 
 London children at play. They sang a mono- 
 tonous chaunt, yet it had a strange charm for 
 them ; day after day, hour after hour, Mr. Owen 
 had heard them sing that endless song. It had 
 but one word, ever repeated — '' Money, money, 
 money.^^ 
 
 Money was the song, and money was the 
 burden. 
 
 "The very children know it,^' thought Mr. 
 Owen, as after listening he closed the window. 
 "^Tis not genius, though splendid; -'tis not 
 character, though strong ; ^tis not virtue, though 
 immaculate, rule this world. Money is her God, 
 her lord, and her master. Patience, truly, 
 patience ! '' 
 
 To divert thoughts too bitter, he took up an
 
 GRACE LEE. 128 
 
 old newspaper which he knew by heart, yet not 
 all, for looking over it again his eyes fell on a 
 paragraph unread before. It was copied from 
 the "Morning Post/' and headed "Interesting 
 Discovery." It related at length with some em- 
 bellishments, and plenty of flattery. Miss Lee's 
 visit to the Female Asylum. 
 
 " Oh, money ! money ! thou dost indeed rule 
 the world,'^ thought John Owen, laying down the 
 paper with involuntary bitterness. " ^ Lovely and 
 munificent ! ^ I remember her a plain, sallow 
 girl, who never could be handsome ; and what is 
 a thousand pounds to her wealth, if report speaks 
 true ? A drop of water from the deep sea ; a 
 grain of sand from the wide shore. Well, may 
 the very children catch up the cry, well may they 
 too, sing, " Money, money ! " 
 
 " Oavcu, my good fellow, what the devil makes 
 
 you lodge so high? " said a drawling voice; Mr. 
 
 Owen turned round abruptly: the door had 
 
 opened, and an unannounced visitor had uncere- 
 
 g2
 
 12:4 GRACE LEE. 
 
 moniously entered tlie room^ his sole apartment. 
 He was a man of middle-sized stature, short- 
 sighted, pale, effeminate looking. He spoke in a 
 soft small voice, looking over his right shoulder 
 in a vague languid way, his left arm and hand 
 resting on his hip. His attire was peculiar ; his 
 fingers glittered with rings ; costly lace ruffles 
 veiled his hands, and a delicate cambric handker- 
 chief emerged from the open breast of a black 
 velvet tunic, fastened at the waist by a solitary 
 button. He had scarcely entered the room, 
 when he sank on a chair, and fanned himself 
 with his handkerchief, like one exhausted by the 
 effort of coming up so high. Mr. Owen looked 
 at him coldly and sternly : this seemed no 
 welcome guest. 
 
 " I thought. Captain Glawdon,^^ he said ab- 
 ruptly, " that when we last parted it was under- 
 stood we need not meet in a hurry.^^ 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Owen, what a rancorous fellow 
 you are," replied Captain Glawdon, taking out a
 
 GRACE LEE. 125 
 
 cigar and lighting it coolly ; " pshaw, man, you 
 needn^t be so savage, just because you uncon- 
 sciously gave me some good legal advice. I have 
 hunted you out for the express purpose of getting 
 a stronger dose ; but first let me fulfil a fair, or 
 to speak more correctly, a dark lady's commands. 
 I am bearer of her grateful thanks to you." 
 
 " Of what lady do you speak ? '' 
 
 " Of a lady who does you the honour to take 
 an interest in j^ou : Miss Lee — Miss Grace Lee.'' 
 
 Mr. Owen looked surprised, but he did not 
 reply. 
 
 " Miss Lee," resumed Captain Glawdon, " who, 
 feeling indebted to you for the presence of a 
 beloved sister, wishes to express personally her 
 deep sense of the obligation." 
 
 " Captain Glawdon you are a sphinx." 
 
 '' And you are no (Edipus. Well, well — we all 
 have our gifts : my plain meaning is this, — you 
 told me where old Miss Blount resided ; I at once 
 told it to Miss Lee, who immediately wrote oflP to
 
 126 GEACE LEE. 
 
 her sister^ wlio promptly fled to her^ leaving her 
 old cousin in the lurch. And is not all this 
 owing to you V 
 
 " Miss Lee owes me no thanks," coldly replied 
 Owen ; *' if I have obliged her I did not mean it : 
 I will say more, — had I known that to give you 
 Miss Blount^s address would induce a young 
 girl to forsake the cousin who reared her, — a 
 woman old and perhaps poor, for a young rich 
 half-sister, you would never have had it from 
 me." 
 
 "Well, well," impatiently said Captain Glaw- 
 don, " you need not tell her that when you see 
 her, you know," 
 
 " And why should I see Miss Lee ? " sharply 
 asked Owen; — "to receive thanks to which I 
 have no claim ? " 
 
 " Oh, but you must see her," insisted Captain 
 Glawdon, taking out his cigar to speak with more 
 freedom; "^tis Miss Lee's wish, and Miss Lee 
 must be obeved."
 
 GEACE LEE. 127 
 
 The proud and poor Welshman little brooked 
 that word " must/^ 
 
 '' I cannot/' he answered coldly. 
 
 " Pooh ! man ! say you do not like." 
 
 '' Well, then, I do not like."'' 
 
 " What — you do not like to be introduced to 
 Miss Lee, the lovely, the wealthy, the admired 
 lady?'' 
 
 " No,'' was the impatient reply. 
 
 " Pshaw ! I promised to take you to her house, 
 in Park Lane, this very evening." 
 
 This settled the matter. Mr. Owen peremp- 
 torily refused to go. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," said Captain Glawdon 
 sneering, " we will not use force ; and now that 
 we have discharged the lady's commands, come 
 we to our own matters. Owen, you did me a 
 good turn without meaning it. I confess I was 
 rather sly then ; now I shall be quite candid. 
 Owen, I am in a new mess." 
 
 Mr, Owen smiled ironically.
 
 128 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " From my mother I have inherited three 
 tastes, — old lace, old china, old carved wood. 
 Now, in an ancient Warwickshire public-house 
 I have discovered a most precious panel adorning 
 the mantel-piece of the same. I oflPered a hand- 
 some sum ; it was refused ; in short, I had to 
 purchase the house. I naturally thought I could 
 do as I liked with my own ; but the tenant 
 objected. I used force, and thereby hangs a 
 lawsuit. Now just listen to me five minutes; 
 ^tis a most interesting case.'^ 
 
 Thereupon the Captain entered into a full 
 explanation of the matter; Mr. Owen heard 
 him coldly, then gave a vague opinion that 
 meant nothing. In vain the Captain tried to 
 coax and wheedle him into clearer speech — he 
 failed; whatever he felt inwardly, he outwardly 
 put a good face on the matter. 
 
 "I see,^^ he said, "you donH understand me 
 quite well; we must talk it over together. I 
 am going to Wales after to-morrow to see my
 
 GRACE LEE. 129 
 
 wife and my mother-in-law. Come and spend a 
 week or two there — eh ! " 
 
 " With pleasure/' replied Mr. Owen, smiling. 
 
 ^'There's a good fellow/' said Captain Glaw- 
 don, who had not expected to succeed so 
 easily. 
 
 " Well/' he added, rising, " I am going to 
 call on my future sister-in-law — come with me.'' 
 
 " What sister-in-law ? " 
 
 " Ah ! true, you are not initiated in those 
 mysteries — you do not know that within a few 
 weeks, perhaps, my hrother-in-law, Gerald, 
 marries his cousin — Miss Lee." 
 
 "Ay! — money marries money. Truly I did 
 not know it — a most important fact." 
 
 '^And so you will not come — well man, stay 
 in your den if you like, but mind I expect you 
 after to-morrow." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night," repeated Mr. Owen. " Ay ! 
 
 g3
 
 130 GRACE LEE. 
 
 good-niglit, indeed," he thought, listening to 
 the sound of his retreating steps. "When you 
 were a boy at school. Captain Glawdon, you 
 wanted John Owen's brains to work for you ; 
 as a man you filched from him the knowledge 
 that was his daily bread, and what you have 
 done once, you insolently hope to do again: 
 but truly you shall find this time that you are 
 the tool, that he is the master." 
 
 Miss Lee's large and luxurious drawing-room 
 was brilliantly lit. She had given her usual 
 Thursday dinner ; it was over, and the few but 
 select guests were gathered around their hostess. 
 The conversation was ga^", brilliant, clever, enter- 
 taining. The invites were few, but they were 
 famous. Old Mr. Hanley, the barrister, equally 
 celebrated for his profound legal knowledge and 
 his surly temper; Branden, the witty sarcastic 
 Branden, of European fame ; James Stevens, the 
 great artist; the beautiful Mrs. Chesterfield, 
 whose praise or censure gave life or death in
 
 GEACE LEE. 131 
 
 the fashionable world; Mr. Austin, the famous 
 traveller; the mighty Joe Woodman,, who from 
 the Olympian heights of criticism poured blame 
 or nodded approbation on the luckless world 
 below; were all present, all agreeable, all 
 charming. And if Miss Lee wished for some- 
 thing nearer and dearer, she surely had it. She 
 sat between her adopted sister, and, so report 
 said, her future husband. And from either 
 side flattery, all the more seducing for coming 
 from loved lips, was poured into her ear. Mr. 
 Gerald Lee, very gentlemanly, very handsome, 
 very courteous, was entertaining her with news 
 of the progress of the philanthropic institutions, 
 of the charitable plans in which both were 
 zealously engaged. Lily Blount intoxicated with 
 her change of position, with the splendour and 
 elegance of her new home, was whispering praise 
 and fondness in the same breath. 
 
 Lily Blount was then a fair young girl of 
 twenty, she was more than fair, she was beautiful
 
 132 GRACE LEE. 
 
 strikingly like tlie portrait of Queen Joanna, by 
 Vinci, in the Doria palace in Rome. She had 
 the same syren sweetness of feature, the same 
 faithless, yet enchanting face. Her blue eyes 
 wandered quick and restless over the room, 
 seeming to search an object of laughter and 
 mockery, yet nothing could be sweeter than their 
 gaze when it met that of another, nothing more 
 winning than her smile. 
 
 "What an insincere face that girl has,^' ob- 
 served Mrs. Chesterfield to her neighbour, Mr. 
 Hanley. Mr. Hanley took a pinch of snuff and 
 smiled. 
 
 " She is very pretty,-'^ he said dryly, and all the 
 perfections of a woman, in his opinion at least, 
 were summed up in this eulogy. 
 
 " So different from the noble frankness of Miss 
 Lee^s countenance,^^ continued Mrs. Chesterfield. 
 
 " I wonder whom she expects this .evening, she 
 is always looking at the door.^^ 
 
 Before Mr. Hanley could reply, the door
 
 GRACE LEE. 133 
 
 opened and Captain Glawdon entered. He 
 quietly made his way to Miss Lee, waited for a 
 pause in the conversation she was then holding 
 with his brother-in-law, then leaning on the back 
 of her chair, he said in low careless tones, 
 
 '^ He would not come.^^ 
 
 "Why so?'' 
 
 " He is no eagle ; he cannot gaze at the sun.'' 
 
 Miss Lee smiled and resumed her interrupted 
 conversation. 
 
 At length the evening wore away, the guests 
 departed one by one. Gerald Lee remained last. 
 He unfolded a broad sheet of paper : the plan of 
 a new home for destitute children. Miss Lee 
 was delighted with it,. and praised it warmly; she 
 closed her eulogy with the significant declara- 
 tion, 
 
 "Any assistance I can give you, you may 
 command." 
 
 " Ever generous," he replied, raising her hand 
 to his lips.
 
 134 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Their eyes met : he smiled, she blushed 
 slightly. 
 
 " What a pair of philanthropists/' exclaimed the 
 light mocking voice of Lily. They looked round. 
 She sat in her white muslin dress on a crimson 
 couch, thence gazing at them with mingled 
 mockery and sweetness. 
 
 Mr. Gerald Lee reddened, but Grace only 
 laughed and said indulgently, 
 
 "Children are privileged, are they not, Mr. 
 Lee?" 
 
 " Assuredly,^' he replied with a formal bow, and 
 he left. 
 
 "And now you are going to scold,'' exclaimed 
 Lily, when he was gone; " I know it was very 
 impertinent, but if I was born impertinent how 
 can I help it ? " Grace sat down by her and 
 fondly smoothed her luxuriant fair hair. 
 
 " What a beautiful hand you have," said Lily 
 softly, "and what a lovely arm and what an 
 exquisite pearl bracelet ! "
 
 GRACE LEE. 135 
 
 "Have it," promptly replied Grace, ^nd at 
 once she unfastened it from her wrist and clasped 
 it on that of Lily, who, to say the truth, showed 
 no reluctance. She held out her hand at arm's 
 length, gazed on it admiringly, then throwing 
 her two arms around the neck of Grace, she said, 
 " Good night, my angel, I know you do not 
 wish me to thank you, and therefore I do not,'^ 
 with which she left her. 
 
 Grace looked around her deserted drawing- 
 room; she stood in the centre with her cheek 
 resting on her hand in a musing attitude. " And 
 so he would not come," she thought: "proud 
 heart, he can be humbled yet.^^ 
 
 Suddenly she drew back ; the door which she 
 had not heard opening, had admitted James 
 Crankey, and before she was aware of his pre- 
 sence, the young man was at her feet. 
 
 "Well, Mr. James, what is the matter now?^^ 
 asked Grace, her first surprise over. " Have 
 you quarrelled with little Annie Hanley, and
 
 136 GRACE LEE. 
 
 are you in the wrong that you kneel and ask 
 me to forgive you? I thought I had provided 
 your holidays with a pleasant companion; have 
 I erred, Mr. James ? ^' And calmly laying her 
 handj a beautiful one as Lily had truly said_, 
 on his burning brow, she looked down with a 
 smile in his flushed face. 
 
 '^I cannot bear it/^ he exclaimed, in broken 
 tones, " I have come to tell you — I cannot 
 bear it. You treat me like a boy — you are 
 cruel. I know jow are going to marry that 
 rich proud man — I cannot bear it." 
 
 " Get up, James," quietly said Miss Lee, 
 "here is Annie wondering what you are doing 
 so long away from her." 
 
 James rose as red as fire; with a lowering 
 brow he turned to the door : it was half open, 
 and a curly-headed little girl stood on the 
 threshold looking at them, her eyes wide open 
 with surprise. '''Ay," thought James Crankey 
 with a swelling heart, "this is the companion
 
 GRACE LEE. 137 
 
 she gives me ; but she shall feel^ she shall 
 know yet, I am a man — not a boy." And 
 without deigning to give Annie Hanley a 
 second look, he left the drawing-room by ano- 
 ther door. 
 
 *^ Come in, Annie/' gently said Miss Lee; 
 and sitting down she beckoned the little girl 
 to her. Annie came willingly; Grace took her 
 on her knees, kissed her, then asked how she 
 liked James. 
 
 '' I don't like him,^' was the frank reply, " he 
 pinches me.^^ 
 
 Grace laughed and caressed her, until Annie, 
 unused to sit up so late, fell asleep in her 
 arms, with her curled brown head resting on 
 the shoulder of Miss Lee, by whom she was 
 consigned to the care of Mademoiselle Dupuis. 
 
 Doctor Crank ey^s rooms were in the most 
 retired part of Miss Lee's house. Thither she 
 now bent her steps. She found him studying by 
 lamp-light, like any ancient sage. As she softly
 
 138 GRACE LEE. 
 
 raised the heavy velvet hanging that divided 
 his apartment^ and put in her dark head glit- 
 tering with a narrow gold circlet,, he raised 
 from the heavy Saint Jerome open on his lap, 
 a face as rugged, though not quite so grand, as 
 that of the illustrious father; but on seeing 
 Grace he suddenly smiled, like one greeted by 
 a pleasing vision. She sat down on a stool at 
 his feet; he stretched out his hand, and 
 smoothed her hair softly and fondly. 
 
 " What have you got there ? '' said Grace, 
 attempting to raise the heavy quarto and draw 
 it on her lap. ^^ Latin? Ah! I fear I have 
 forgotten my Latin.^^ 
 
 " Yes, you have become a grand lady ; and 
 once you were plain Grace Lee. You were 
 happy then." 
 
 " So I am now. I could be happy sitting on 
 a throne as a queen ; and happy running along 
 a green hedge as a bare-footed peasant girl. 
 And how goes the History of the Church ? "
 
 GRACE LEE. 139 
 
 ''I have actually gone as far as the third 
 chapter of the second book/' 
 
 " Have you really ! "" 
 
 "1 am actually dealing with TertuUian." 
 
 " And favouring him ? I know you like him. 
 Well, he was a fine genius, but more of a 
 Stoic than of a Christian ; and surely if he had 
 seen me as I am now, he would have had me 
 stoned and pelted by those veiled virgins for 
 whom he wrote ; and yet I cannot help liking 
 him for the fire and grandeur of his nature.^' 
 
 ^*^And what have you been doing with your- 
 self this evening ? " 
 
 "Nothing wonderful. To-day is Thursday, I 
 had nfy usual guests. I expected one who came 
 not; I dare say you remember him, that Mr. 
 John Owen, to whom I lent, then gave, my 
 father's law-books.'' 
 
 " Ay, ay, I know him of old." 
 
 " Of old. Doctor Crankey ? " 
 
 "Yes; he was a sort of pet at Hawthorne
 
 140 GRACE LEE. 
 
 House when I was chaplain there, and I taught 
 him mathematics and algebra/' 
 • " Was he a good pupil ? " 
 
 " He was clever enough. Indeed why should 
 I not give him his due? He was by far the 
 cleverest lad I ever met with ; his mind was 
 %dgorous beyond his years^ and his heart hard 
 and ambitious too; but he had at times a look 
 that made me think of Cain and Satan; and I 
 cannot say I ever liked him.'' 
 
 "You do not speak as if you did/' said Grace, 
 half smiling. "Cain and Satan, — there is a 
 character for you." 
 
 " I only spoke of his look, you saucy girl. He 
 may have improved for all I know." 
 
 " Not much, I dare say." 
 
 " How is he getting on — is he succeeding ? " 
 
 " I doubt it." 
 
 "If he does not it will not be for want of 
 trying. I remember giving him once a problem 
 to solve, and saying to him as I gave it, ' John
 
 GRACE LEE, 141 
 
 Owen, you cannot do it/ Just as shortly he 
 replied, ' Doctor Crankey, I will do it/ " 
 
 " And did he do it ? '^ asked Grace, looking up 
 in the face of the priest. 
 
 " He sat at it two days and two nights ; he 
 could not eat, he could not sleep, for thinking 
 of it. At length on the third day " 
 
 " He did it,^^ interrupted Grace. " I knew 
 he would.^^ 
 
 Doctor Crankey put forth a sarcastic lip. ^' He 
 do it ! ^^ he replied. " Was he a Pascal ? — was he 
 a Newton ? No, and clever lad though he was, 
 mathematics were not in his y^?ij." 
 
 ^' What did he do, then ? '^ asked Grace, with 
 some impatience. 
 
 " He fell ill of a brain fever, brought on by 
 pure rage and vexation. He had the pride of 
 Lucifer.^^ 
 
 Miss Lee put no more questions. She rose 
 and said, " You remember we are going to Wales 
 to-morrow. Doctor Crankey ? '^
 
 142 GRACE LEE. 
 
 He looked confounded. " I had forgotten all 
 about it/^ he said, at length. "Why, I want to 
 go to the British Museum to-morrow.^^ 
 
 " We shall not stay long in Wales. I want to 
 go, and Lily too." 
 
 On hearing the young girl's name the priest 
 frowned : he was tenacious of old dislikes ; he 
 was going to speak ; but Grace quickly laid her 
 hand on his lips. 
 
 " She is young," she said, hastily, " and flighty. 
 I know she annoyed you the other day, by up- 
 setting your inkstand ; but she did not mean it." 
 
 '' Did she not, though ! " growled Doctor 
 Crankey. " A little Judas ! I always said it, 
 Grace. Grace, Grace, you will repent your 
 foolish fondness for that girl." 
 
 But Grace only smiled.
 
 GRACE LEE. 143 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The sun was descending all gold behind the 
 dark mountain ridge ; the opposite hills of barren 
 rock were now purple and azure ; the torrent 
 rushed green and foaming in the narrow dell 
 below; above spread the heavens of eternal 
 blue; and by the torrent lay the restless — 
 ambitious man, whose dreams that wild Welsh 
 dell had haunted. 
 
 He lay ^midst the yellow gorse in bloom; he 
 felt on his feverish brow the fresh mountain 
 breeze ; his ear drank in with delight the roaring 
 of the waters. "Oh! Wales/^ he thought^, "there 
 is no land like you; no mountains, no lakes, no 
 rivers, no torrents are like yours, my country ! ^^
 
 144 GRACE LEE. 
 
 and heedless of the declining sun, regardless of 
 the hour, he sank into a waking dream, — that 
 sweet torpor of the senses, more delightful than 
 entire slumber, in which our mother Nature 
 loves to wrap us, her vexed and wearied children. 
 His reverie was abruptly broken by a silent 
 and sudden apparition on the opposite bank. 
 His eye had wandered there a minute before and 
 had seen nothing, save the barren and pathless 
 rocks that overhung the green waters ; and now 
 a lady, young and richly dressed, sat calmly on a 
 granite fragment washed by the rushing torrent. 
 The rocks rose dark and high behind and around 
 her; there was light in the sky above, but it 
 entered not this sombre and sunless spot. With 
 her robe of rich changing silk, her gold chatelaine 
 glittering in its shining folds, and a gemmed, 
 bracelet clasping her arm, half veiled by her 
 sleeve of lace, the lady's figure looked as bright 
 and as warm as a gleam of sunshine in some cool 
 and shady grotto. Who was she how had she
 
 GRACE LEE. 145 
 
 come there? He looked around and could see 
 no path and no issue ; he looked at her, her head 
 was bare ; the dark curls which clustered around 
 her neck did not seem to have been even stirred 
 by the mountain breeze ; her silk robe had not a 
 stain of dew ; her small sandalled feet looked as 
 if they had trod on the softest carpets to reach 
 this rugged spot. 
 
 Mr. Owen smiled to himself and remembered 
 old Welsh legends of fair ladies spirited away to 
 the mountains, where they sometimes suddenly 
 and silently appeared to solitary wanderers like 
 him, and again as suddenly vanished. Unseen 
 himself, he looked at her curiously. She sat very 
 still, with her hands clasped on her lap, in an 
 attitude that was not without grace ; yet fair or 
 lovely she was not, her complexion was too dark, 
 her features were too irregular for beauty. 
 
 " I have seen her before,^' thought Mr. Owen ; 
 '' where, I wonder ? " 
 
 Again he looked at her; she had risen; she 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 GRACE LEE. 
 
 had gone to a spot lower down, where the torrent 
 flowed less fiercely ; there, kneeling down on the 
 dark rocks, she stooped until her face almost 
 seemed to touch the wave; eight times she 
 dipped her hand in the flowing stream, eight 
 times she raised it to her lips and drank. 
 
 '' She is Welsh, and she has been eight years 
 away,^^ thought Mr. Owen, suddenly remembering 
 the legend of the place. There, in the heroic age 
 of Wales, had perished one of her chieftains ; 
 and, for some unexplained reason, every son and 
 daughter of the land, who visited the place after 
 more than one year's absence, was bound to 
 drink of the waters of the torrent as many times 
 as he or she had been years away ; or, failing in 
 this, to encounter strange misfortunes and deep 
 woe. Curious to see more nearly this faithful 
 observer of her country's rites and ancient 
 traditions, Mr. Owen rose and walked down the 
 torrent until he came to the spot opposite that 
 where she still knelt. There he, too, bent over
 
 GRACE LEE. 147 
 
 the stream, and, taking up water in his hand, he 
 drank several times. 
 
 Tlie lady seemed more surprised than startled 
 at his sudden appearance. She looked, at him 
 in that free, fearless way in which children 
 look at strangers. She watched his movements 
 curiously; then suddenly, as after drinking the 
 last time, he seemed on the point of turning 
 away, she said rather eagerly : 
 
 " You had better drink another time, Mr. Owen, 
 or else, you know the story, Ap Rhydon will be 
 fatal to you.^' 
 
 " You know me," exclaimed Mr. Owen, taken 
 by surprise, " why, who are you ? " 
 
 " Guess," was the reply, as prompt as the 
 question. 
 
 But instead of guessing, Mr. Owen, rather 
 vexed at having betrayed so much astonishment, 
 looked at her keenly and fixedly. 
 
 She sat below the roar and foam of the torrent 
 where it flowed still and deep, but the waters, 
 
 H 2
 
 148 GRACE LEE. 
 
 though smooth_, were broad, and plank, or bridge, 
 or means to cross there was none. Thus secure 
 from intrusion the lady bore Mr. Owen^s look 
 with much composure, and returned it somewhat 
 mockingly. 
 
 "You cannot guess," she said again, "well 
 time will tell you. I am one of the guests of 
 the house where you arrived this morning ; and 
 this evening, unless you are late, we shall sit at 
 the same dinner table." 
 
 " Thank you,'^ said Mr. Owen smiling, " I 
 know you now — you are Lady Emma Meredith's 
 companion. '^ 
 
 " How do you know ?" quickly asked the lady. 
 "Very easily, there are nine ladies in the 
 house ; Mrs. Gerald Lee and Mrs. Glawdon, 
 whom I have seen ; Mrs. Rashleigh, whom I know 
 of old ; Mrs. Lloyd and the three Misses Lloyd, 
 who are all red-haired; Lady Emma Meredith 
 and her companion. Lady Emma is fifty at least, 
 you are evidently the companion."
 
 GRACE LEE. 149 
 
 "Shrewd conclusion. Well I confess I have 
 not been long in my new situation; can you, 
 Mr. Owen, give me an insight into its duties and 
 obligations/' 
 
 "Have you ever been a companion before V 
 
 "Never.'' 
 
 "Do you wish for the truth?'' 
 
 " Certainly ! for the whole truth." 
 
 " Well then, my young countrywoman — " 
 
 "How do you know I am Welsh?" she 
 interrupted. 
 
 " By your speech — besides I saw you drinking 
 eight times the waters of the Ap Rhydon." 
 
 "And you six, Mr. Owen, though you have 
 been seven years away. I told you ill luck would 
 befall you ; well, well, it will be your own fault — 
 and now pray go on." 
 
 " Prepare for a hard life," he resumed. " Lady 
 Emma is a charming lady, but she is a great and a 
 rich lady, and every one knows what that means." 
 " What does it mean?"
 
 150 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Truly you have not been a companion long or 
 you would not ask. It means caprice and self- 
 ishness." 
 
 ^'A pleasant prospect/^ said the lady in a 
 piqued tone. 
 
 "You asked for the truth. Well here are your 
 duties. To take out Lady Emma's pet King 
 Charles three times a day for an airing. To read 
 to Lady Emma until you are faint, then to be 
 scolded for being nervous. To spend every 
 evening in playing cards, but never on any 
 account to win." 
 
 '' Excuse me ; a poor companion cannot afford 
 to lose." 
 
 Win then at your peril." 
 
 "Truly, sir, you draw a hard picture. Pray 
 what else?" 
 
 '^What else! why everything else. You are 
 young, but you must have none of the instinct 
 of youth. Talking, laughing, pleasure are not 
 meant for you."
 
 GRACE LEE. 151 
 
 '^ And dancing?^* 
 
 *' Dancing ! Have you lost your senses ? Why 
 you must play a whole evening whilst others 
 dance, but you must never dance. Nor must you 
 sing ; if you have accomplishments, hide them as 
 so many sins. They are worse than sins in you, 
 they are an absurd presumption.^' 
 
 '' Then I suppose I must not dress too fine." 
 
 " Be certain of it : let a plain brown gown, 
 something very neat, but excessively simple, be 
 your invariable attire. One last lesson : be civil 
 to all, from the footman to the lady, yet never 
 think yourself sure of an hour's peace or 
 goodwill," 
 
 The lady heard him with her head bent and 
 her cheek on her hand. When he ceased she 
 looked and smiled rather wistfully; and even 
 across the torrent he could see that her eyes were 
 soft and dark, and that her smile was very sweet - 
 Then rising, she said : 
 
 *' You have drawn a dismal picture, Mr. Owen ;
 
 152 GKACE LEE. 
 
 but I am young, God is good to the young, and 
 spite all you have said I will hope in pleasant, 
 ksunshiny days. And now, adieu, take my advice; 
 drink once more of the Ap Rhydon, or woe will 
 befall you.^^ She lightly ascended one rock and 
 disappeared behind another ; Mr. Owen smiled to 
 himself rather curiously. ) 
 
 "Aj^, go. Miss Lee," he thought, "if you re- 
 member me, I too remember you : and for once 
 at least you have heard the truth; for once you 
 have been told in plain speech you are a woman 
 like another." 
 
 The last golden glow had faded from the narrow 
 valley; the rising wind moaned amongst the 
 mountains, light mists floated across their rocky 
 summits, and gloom filled the depths of this wild 
 gorge. Slowly and reluctantly Mr. Owen left that 
 spot. Its dreary aspect was pleasanter to his eye 
 than the fairest face ; no voice was so sweet to his 
 ear as its wild murmurs ; athirst after seven years 
 he now drank deep of nature and solitude. At
 
 GRACE LEE. 153 
 
 length he rose ; he took a lonely path amongst 
 the mountains ; he followed it, passing through 
 thickly wooded defiles, through wilder valleys, 
 until a sudden turning brought him to the open 
 sea, now retreating with the evening tide from th'e 
 cliif-girt shore. 
 
 In all Wales there was no spot more beautiful, 
 more romantic than this. It lay a small green 
 plain, bounded on one side by the boundless sea, 
 on the other by a long background of verdant 
 mountains. The sun which Mr. Owen had seen 
 declining behind them, only now set in the dark 
 blue waves, a ball of fire. A purple and yellow 
 glow encircled the broad horizon — above spread 
 the sky serenely pure. On the slope of the nearest 
 mountain rose a white house ; it had belonged to 
 the late Miss Grace Lee, in it now dwelt Gerald 
 Lee's mother. It was built Italian fashion, with a 
 loggia, or open and arched gallery in front, to 
 which on either side led a broad stone staircase. 
 As Mr. Owen slowly ascended the steps, he saw a 
 
 H 3
 
 154 GRACE LEE. 
 
 group of ladies standing in the central and widest 
 arch, and thence looking at the broad sea and 
 setting sun. Amongst them he at once recognised 
 Miss Lee. She had changed her attire for one of 
 still greater richness and elegance, and she stood 
 with her elbow leaning on the white stone balus- 
 trade, graceful and still as any lady of the olden 
 time. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Owen, how do you like our moun- 
 tains ? ^' patronisingly asked Mrs. Gerald Lee, a 
 large and stately lady. 
 
 '^ Like one who was born amongst them,'^ was 
 his somewhat cold reply. 
 
 At once Mrs. Gerald Lee became distant. She 
 was a most patriotic lady. " Our mountains — our 
 noble mountains^' were ever on her lips; but even 
 as some painters use mountains for the back- 
 ground of their picture, so Mrs. Gerald Lee loved 
 best the blue hills of her native land from her 
 London drawing-room. To everything Welsh she 
 had an unfortunate abhorrence she scarcely knew
 
 GRACE LEE. 155 
 
 how to disguise. Most opposed to her in this 
 respect was her sister-in-law, Lady Emma Mere- 
 dith. She was a slender, pale, nervous, touchy 
 woman, who out of her very touchiness, and from 
 an innate suspicion that her country and its 
 peculiarities were in every one's thoughts, fore- 
 stalled the expected attack by running down Wales 
 and the Welsh. But woe to the credulous wight 
 who, trusting to Lady Emma's pale meek face and 
 sleepy eyes, ventured to imitate her example; Lady 
 Emma heard him out, then turned round as 
 treacherous and spiteful as a cat. Concerning 
 Mr. Owen she now had her suspicions, and in- 
 sinuatingly observed : '^ To one who has seen the 
 mountains of Switzerland, Wales may well seem a 
 molehill/' 
 
 To this dubious and general remark Miss Lee 
 undertook to reply. 
 
 ^' I did not expect such an unpatriotic sentiment 
 from Lady Emma Meredith." 
 
 " Oh ! you know me^^' suavely rejoined Lady
 
 156 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Emma, ^' I love my country, but I am a cosmo- 
 polite. But, my dear Miss Lee, are you not 
 rather chill." 
 
 " Not in the least, thank you." 
 
 " My dearest creature, I assure you there is a 
 strong draught ; do, I entreat you, do leave this 
 dangerous spot." 
 
 Everybody present joined in the entreaty; Miss 
 Lee declined, laughing. Mr. Owen bowed to Mrs. 
 Lee and passed on. Grace looked after him 
 silently. He had given her no token of recogni- 
 tion; he had shown no surprise on discovering 
 that she was Miss Lee and not Lady Emma 
 Meredith's companion ; Grace was quick to guess 
 the truth : " He knew me all along," she thought. 
 
 " Who is that dark ugly man ? " asked Lily. 
 
 " Mr. Owen." 
 
 ''And who is Mr. Owen ?" 
 
 No one replied ; but Mrs. Rashleigh whispered 
 to the three red-haired Misses Lloyd in succession. 
 
 " Shocking," said Anna.
 
 GRACE LEE. 157 
 
 " Dreadful ! '' exclaimed Mary. 
 
 But Mary Anna looked unable to speak. Mrs. 
 Gerald Lee winced a little. She had a strong 
 suspicion that her flighty son-in-law had intro- 
 duced some low-born person into this aristocratic 
 company. 
 
 The dinner was long and rather dull. Lady 
 Emma Meredith, who had deluded a certain 
 Scotch Major Muir with her usual arts, then, 
 according to her custom, suddenly turning upon 
 him, somewhat enlivened one end of the table ; 
 at the other end sat Rashleigh Rashleigh talking 
 to the three Misses Lloyd, in order to be heard 
 by Miss Lee. He was then a tall, slender, smooth 
 man of twenty-eight, plausible in aspect and in 
 speech, with a false look and falser smile, with 
 two voices, one real, arrogant, and full j the other 
 soft and pedantically clear ; the voice of one who 
 is preaching, or reading, or lecturing, who speaks 
 not because he has sometliing to say, but because 
 he wants to be heard.
 
 158 GRACE LEE. 
 
 '' So he too wants the golden prize," thought 
 John Owen, seeing how sedulously he sought to 
 catch Miss Lee's attention ; " Ay let him try, 
 she is not for him/^ 
 
 Grace sat opposite him between Gerald Lee 
 and Captain Glawdon ; to her as to their natural 
 centre verged the looks, the smiles, the speeches, 
 of all present. Mr. Owen saw how she breathed 
 in this atmosphere of flattery as in her native 
 element, and he smiled with pity for the flattered, 
 with scorn for the flatterers. 
 
 At length the dinner was over. The ladies 
 rose and left the gentlemen to their wine. Lily, 
 like the rest, was ascending the drawing-room 
 staircase when the voice of Grace whispered in 
 her ear — ''JFoUow me," and looking round she 
 saw her half-sister going down the flight of stone 
 steps that led into the garden.
 
 GRACE LEE. 159 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The moon hung in the blue east yellow and 
 fuU^ and looking down above the brow of the 
 mountains lit with a pale and gentle ray the 
 flowery garden. Perfumes wild and sweet came 
 and departed with every breeze. Grace left the 
 gravel paths for the green grass that enclosed the 
 gay parterres ; her elastic footsteps sank noise- 
 lessly on the soft turf, and she glided along as 
 swift and as light as a vision of the night. Lily 
 followed more slowly, shivering slightly under 
 the chill breath of the night-air which only 
 freshened the more quick and ardent blood of 
 Grace Lee. 
 
 Miss Blount was going, however, to utter a
 
 160 GRACE LEE. 
 
 prudent remoustrance on the folly of thus risking 
 a cold for the gratification of a whim, when the 
 hand of Grace was suddenly laid on her lips. 
 Lily looked round; two dark forms stood on 
 the plot near them, and the scent of cigars 
 came borne by the breeze more distinct than 
 odoriferous. 
 
 " Who is it ?^^ whispered Lily. 
 
 Before Grace could reply, the drawling voice 
 of Captain Glawdon observed : 
 
 " So you do not admire Miss Lee, Owen?^^ 
 
 "No,^^ was the brief and carelessly uttered 
 reply. 
 
 " Good,^^ muttered Grace in a piqued tone ; 
 "what else?'' 
 
 " She is a fine gh'l, though,'' patronisingly 
 observed the Captain without taking out his cigar. 
 
 "Showy;" calmly answered John Owen, also 
 smoking. 
 
 " She is very much admired, Mr. Owen." 
 
 " She is very rich. Captain Glawdon."
 
 GRACE LEE. 161 
 
 " And her wealth does not lessen her charms : 
 granted ; nevertheless I maintain that my future 
 sister-in-law Grace is a fine girl/' 
 
 John Owen did not seem to consider g^ reply 
 necessary, and remained silent. ----1 
 
 "Now frankly and candidly/' resumed the 
 Captain, who seemed determined to make him 
 speak, " what do you think of Miss Lee ?'' 
 
 John Owen answered the appeal with the 
 impatience of one whom the subject did not 
 interest. 
 
 '^ Eeally," he said, '* what opinion can I give of 
 a lady of whom I know nothing. She may be 
 handsome ; all I can say is I did not see it. She 
 may be witty, clever, accomplished ; I saw nothing 
 in her beyond the free and confident manner of 
 a girl who knows that let her say or do what she 
 chooses a slavish world will praise and admire 
 her still.'' 
 
 The Captain laughed languidly, and in the im- 
 pertinent drawling tone habitual to him, observed :
 
 16£ GRACE LEE. 
 
 " You are too severe, John Owen, on my word, 
 you are. Grace is a good girl, a little vain, 
 especially of her hand and arm/' 
 
 "Which are both very handsome. I noticed 
 them at dinner.^' 
 
 The Captain had drunk enough to be insolent. 
 Besides, for the last two days, he had amassed a 
 secret store of irritation against John Owen, from 
 whom he had been unable to extract the least 
 particle of valuable information in the legal 
 way. 
 
 " My dear fellow,'' he said, mildly, " it will be 
 wiser not to mind either the hand or arm of Miss 
 Lee. I warn you that she is the golden fruit of 
 which I am dragon.^' 
 
 "Then I suppose it would be positively dan- 
 gerous to discover that she has very fine eyes, 
 good teeth, &c." 
 
 " It would not be advisable," suavely replied 
 Captain Glawdon. 
 
 " She is no goddess,'' answered John Owen,
 
 GRACE LEE. 163 
 
 with a laugh of disdain^ ^'but a woman like 
 another." 
 
 ''Not exactly like another — not exactly, my 
 dear friend/' said the Captain, with an increase 
 of gentleness, "for I am dragon, you know.'' 
 
 Mr. Owen turned round, and tapped Captain 
 Glawdon on the shoulder. 
 
 '' Captain Glawdon," he said, significantly, 
 "the golden fruit no more tempts me than I 
 dread the dragon." 
 
 The conversation had reached an uncomfortable 
 crisis : the would-be patron and his rebellious 
 protege stood eyeing one another silently and 
 askance, when from a neighbouring alley the 
 voice of Rashleigh Kashleigh was heard, calling 
 out with its pedantic distinctness : " Captain 
 Glawdon!" 
 
 Grace did not wait for the issue of this new- 
 comer's intervention. She abruptly turned away ; 
 in a few minutes she had re-entered the house 
 with Lily. From the dining-room, not yet
 
 164 GRACE LEE 
 
 forsaken, came the loud sounds of talking and 
 laughing. Miss Lee passed on, pushed open the 
 door of a lonely and elegant sitting-room, redo- 
 lent with the perfumes of Howers, and lit by a 
 solitary lamp that burned with a mild ray 
 reflected in a vast and gloomy mirror. 
 
 " Eaves-droppers hear no good of themselves," 
 said Grace, closing the door. "Eh 1 Lily ?" 
 
 She laughed ; then throwing herself in a deep 
 arm-chair, and fanning herself with her hand- 
 kerchief, she exclaimed, impatiently, " Is it not 
 desperately hot ? " Before the young girl could 
 reply, she started up and paced the room with 
 hasty steps. 
 
 "Mr. Owen is as rude as he is ugly \" indig- 
 nantly cried Lily ; " et ce n'est pas peu dire ! '' 
 she added in French. 
 
 Grace smiled and looked over her shoulder at 
 the mirror she was then passing, and from its 
 depths her dark expressive face smiled back at 
 her — a smile of mingled scorn and sweetness.
 
 GRACE LEE. 165 
 
 " He said I was plain," she exclaimed gaily ; 
 " well, let him ; his looks never told me he 
 thought me lovely; better his scorn than the 
 flattery of others. Besides ! " she added, throwing 
 back her head with not ungraceful disdain, 
 '' hath not the poor handmaiden actually found 
 favour in the eyes of my Lord Sultan; has he not 
 condescended to perceive that we are not wholly 
 destitute of those charms that win us favour in 
 the eyes of our masters. May we not rejoice in 
 the possession of a hand, ay, even of an arm. 
 Nay, our eyes have positively some lustre, and 
 our teeth — hear and admire ! are not displeasing 
 in the sight of his lordship, who, moreover, has 
 kindly added an &c. as polite as it is compre- 
 hensive ! " 
 
 She laughed, a laugh that spite of its irony 
 was, like her speech spite of its sting, sweet and 
 clear. But she was not allowed to indulge long 
 in these reflections : the door opened, and Mrs. 
 Gerald Lee herself entered. Her daughter, a
 
 166 GRACE LEE. 
 
 gentle young woman, Captain Glawdon's wife, 
 Lady Emma Meredith, tlie three Misses Lloyd, 
 followed. All alarmed and distressed at Miss 
 Lee's absence had come to seek her. And Miss 
 Lee graciously yielding to their entreaties, con- 
 sented to honour the drawing-room with her 
 presence. The gentlemen were already above. 
 At once Captain Glawdon went up to Grace. 
 
 " Where can you have been all this time ?" he 
 languidly asked, dusting with his delicate 
 cambric handkerchief a speck from his velvet 
 tunic, and gently shaking his lace ruffles, so 
 that they fell gracefully over his white hands, 
 "^^you have been sought for everywhere, up and 
 down, in the house, in " 
 
 *' But not where I was,'' interrupted Grace. 
 
 " And where then were you ? In a rose or in 
 a lily?" 
 
 " Guess." 
 
 Before the Captain could obey and solve this 
 delicate riddle, he was imperatively summoned
 
 GKACE LEE. 167 
 
 back to a card-table, which he had deserted on 
 Miss Lee's entrance. Grace, turning to Lily 
 who sat on the couch by her, said with a scornful 
 smile : — 
 
 " The dragon is no lynx, eh ! Lily ? " 
 
 The young girl laughingly pinched her arm. 
 
 Grace half turned round and saw John Owen, 
 who sat on the chair next to the couch, partly 
 concealed by the heavy window-curtain. He was 
 bending towards her with something bright in his 
 hand; his eyes had a keen look, and a smile parted 
 his lips. Grace feeling betrayed by her last words, 
 coloured a little, but her look met his steadily. 
 
 "I believe this belongs to you,'' he said, 
 handing her a bracelet of Arab coins which she 
 had worn at dinner, and had not missed from her 
 right arm. 
 
 "Yes, it is mine — thank you," she replied, 
 taking it from him with a cool bend of the head. 
 " Where did you find it ? " she added, a little 
 abruptly.
 
 168 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " I picked it up from the steps leading to the 
 gardenj where Captain Glawdon and I had gone 
 to smoke a cigar after dinner/^ 
 
 " And where Lily and I had gone to breathe 
 a little fresh air." 
 
 He looked at her and she looked at him. 
 And there was pride, and more than pride, 
 perhaps, in either gaze. 
 
 '' Did you take another drink of the Ap 
 Ehydon ? '' asked Miss Lee. 
 
 " No,^^ he replied with a smile. 
 
 " You disbelieve the prophecy ? " 
 
 " I haA'e a firm faith in QYexj old legend." 
 
 '' Then why not obey it ? " 
 
 He smiled again without replying. He showed 
 no wish to continue the conversation. Grace 
 betrayed neither pique nor displeasure. Her 
 dark eyes rested for a moment on John Owen, 
 then she smiled rather graciously, like a queen on 
 a subject. 
 
 " And so that was Miss Lee's bracelet which
 
 GRACE LEE. 169 
 
 you found, — lucky fellow ! " observed Captain 
 Glawdon, who stood again by them. His tone 
 caused the dark face of Mr. Owen to darken, and 
 his look made the warm cheek of Grace flush 
 warmer. 
 
 "Is that cofi"ee the servant is carrying on a 
 tray ? " asked Miss Lee. 
 
 The movements of Captain Glawdon were 
 never prompt, and whilst he was indolently 
 looking through his eye-glass for the servant and 
 tray, Mr. Owen had quietly handed Grace a cup 
 of coffee. This, too, the Captain chose to com- 
 ment upon by another look, which Grace, 
 however, returned so haughtily that he thought 
 it advisable to turn away, and saunter back to 
 the card -table ; but, unable to forget his precious 
 Hesperides even there, he managed to shift his 
 chair so as to command a side view of the couch. 
 They were talking. What would not Captain 
 Glawdon have given to know the subject of their 
 discourse, or rather that something more than 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 GRACE LEE. 
 
 the subject — the tone, the manner — things in 
 themselves so slight, yet that indicate so much. 
 Yain hope ! All he could see was that Grace 
 Lee looked proud, and often smiled ; — of Mr. 
 Ou^en he could make nothing. And this, to his 
 annoyance, lasted the whole evening. At length 
 the guests rose and dispersed. 
 
 *' Captain Glawdon/' sententiously observed 
 Mrs. Lee when she found herself again alone with 
 her son-in-law, " may I ask who is that very extra- 
 ordinary person, a Mr. Owen I think, a Welsh- 
 man, with whom Miss Lee was so taken up the 
 whole evening ? ^^ 
 
 '^A poor devil in the law who has been 
 previously useful to me, my dear madam. ^^ 
 
 '^''And is that a reason for bringing him to 
 this house ? " asked Mrs. Lee with dignified 
 reproach, *^ is that a reason for — '' she paused ; 
 she was speaking to vacant walls. Captain 
 Glawdon had vanished. 
 
 Miss Lee was sitting in her adopted sister's
 
 GRACE LEE. 171 
 
 room^ and Lily was entertaining her with com- 
 ments more pungent than charitable on every 
 one in the house. She began with Mrs. Gerald 
 Lee and closed with John Owen. 
 " " I never saw such a bear as he is, nor such an 
 angel as you are^ Grace. ^^ 
 
 "And why am I an angel ?^^ asked Miss Lee, 
 half raising her head from the depths of the 
 arm-chair in which she sat. 
 
 " Why he is as bitter as gall to you, and you — 
 3'ou are as sweet as honey to him.^^ Grace laughed. 
 
 " -'TIS his temper to be bitter/^ she said ; " and 
 mine to be sweet. Let him — if he is bitter he is 
 true, and what is there beyond truth in this 
 world? Besides/' she added, smiling, "if he 
 does not like me, how can he help it? Well, 
 good-night, Lily, God bless you ! I must go and 
 see Doctor Crankey.^^ 
 
 Miss Lee, like an ancient Roman, had tra- 
 velled with all her household gods; but the 
 chief of them, her old guardian, had made his 
 
 I 2
 
 172 GRACE LEE. 
 
 conditions before moving. He insisted on a 
 shrine of his own^ and refused to consort with 
 the other Lares : to speak more plainly. Doctor 
 Crankey had accompanied Miss Lee to Wales on 
 the clear understanding that he was to sleep, eat, 
 and study in his own rooms, and never to be 
 expected to appear in the drawing-room, or to 
 mingle with Mrs. Gerald Lee's guests. To his 
 apartment. Miss Lee who never allowed a day 
 to pass without spending part of it with him, 
 now proceeded. 
 
 Doctor Crankey received her with a placid 
 smile ; Grace sat down at his feet ; he quietly 
 smoothed her dark hair. She was the first to 
 speak. 
 
 '' Doctor Crankey," she said, suddenly looking 
 up in his face, "why did you never teach me 
 algebra as well as Greek and Latin ? '^ 
 
 " And what good would algebra have done 
 you ? " asked the priest with raised eyebrows. 
 
 " What good does it do anyone ? What
 
 GRACE LEE. 173 
 
 good did it do that John Owen of whom you 
 were speaking the other day ? ^^ 
 
 '^'None in the world, I dare say; but it was 
 his whim to learn, and mine to teach." 
 
 " I am sure he was a disagreeable pupil.'^ 
 
 " He was not amiable." 
 
 " Insolent ? " 
 
 "No; not at all; but there was something 
 unpleasant about him; that is very certain." 
 
 '^ He was quarrelsome, vindictive." 
 
 " There you are mistaken," interrupted Doctor 
 Crankey, who would not have belied the Evil One 
 himself, " he vras not at all quick to take offence. 
 Indeed, I never knew the lad to have more than 
 one quarrel, and then young Hawthorne, an inso- 
 lent little fool, was to blame. After bearing with 
 him until I thought he must be very patient or 
 very mean, John one day quietly turns round 
 and knocks him down." 
 
 " He must have been in a nice passion." 
 
 " No ; he was quite cool, and picked up Haw-
 
 174 GRACE LEE. 
 
 tliorne, explaining to him that he did not like 
 fighting, but that as he, Hawthorne, wanted a 
 lesson, he had been compelled to give him one : 
 a piece of reasoning that exasperated the other 
 even more than the blow." 
 
 '' How old was he then ? " 
 
 " Fifteen or so/' 
 
 "A good beginning,^' drily replied Miss Lee; 
 but she did not tell the old man that Mr. Owen 
 was in the house. She sat at his feet, her arms 
 folded, her head bent, her whole attitude expres- 
 sive of deep thought. Regardless of this. Doctor 
 Crankey entertained her with the account he 
 proposed to give in his History of the Church, of 
 the blessed Saint Jerome. 
 
 " He disliked women, did he not ? '^ suddenly 
 asked Grace, looking up. 
 
 "Nay, child; have you forgotten his long 
 and faithful friendship with Saint Paula, with 
 her daughter Eustochium, with that devout 
 widow — ^'
 
 GEACE LEE. 175 
 
 Grace laughed. 
 
 " You are talking of Saint Jerome," she said, 
 '^ and I am talking of Mr. Owen." 
 
 "Then you might choose a better subject," 
 impatiently replied the priest, " and what do I 
 knovY whether a surly boy liked or did not like 
 your foolish sex ? You are dreaming, child, you 
 have sat up too late; go and sleep, go and 
 sleep." 
 
 Grace was too much accustomed to the ups 
 and downs of Doctor Crankey^s temper to trouble 
 herself with this pettish outburst ; but she did 
 not pursue a subject evidently distasteful. She 
 looked at him awhile smiling, then she rose and 
 went up to the window. Doctor Crankey^s rooms 
 were on the ground-floor, and the window by 
 which Grace stood opened on the garden and 
 overlooked the sea. Shrouded in by the heavy 
 curtain which she had raised, then allowed to fall 
 behind her, Grace looked out on the dark night. 
 She saw the sombre outline of dark tall trees, the
 
 176 GKACE LEE. 
 
 black vast mountains, the paler sky, which the 
 travelling moon had not long forsaken ; she heard 
 the whistling of the wdnd, the rushing voice of 
 mountain torrents, the deep, sullen surge of the 
 sea, and a voice sweet, powerful, irresistible, 
 seemed to call her forth. She noiselessly opened 
 the window and glided out. She was at the end 
 of the garden when Doctor Crankey missed her. 
 Though he found the window open, it did not occur 
 to him that she had' gone out into the garden ; 
 there was another door to his rooms than that 
 by which she had entered : through that he con- 
 cluded Miss Lee had passed, and closing the 
 window he thought no more of the matter. 
 
 The gayest, the most genial temper can have 
 the keenest enjoyment of solitude. To Miss ' 
 Lee, surrounded as she was the whole day with 
 flattery and flatterers, it became at times a want, 
 a thirst to be satisfied and sated no matter how. 
 
 On reaching the end of the garden she paused, 
 not merely because of the natural barrier, but
 
 GRACE LEE. 177 
 
 because she found there all she sought. It was 
 bounded by a low wall, built on the very edge of 
 the sea- washed cliff; beyond it spread the ocean, 
 illimitable and gloomy as the night that hung 
 over it. The evening was not chill, but its mild- 
 ness was just freshened by the sea-breeze. Miss 
 Lee sat down on a stone bench; she laid and 
 rested her head on the ivy-grown wall; below 
 her spread the vastness of the sea, above her the 
 darkness of the sky, and between both, vaguely 
 seen, a long line of shore — a boundless 
 horizon. 
 
 " Oh ! this too is happiness,^^ she thought ; 
 '^ this too is delightful ! World, thou art 
 sweet ; Nature, thou art sweeter.^^ And her 
 heart throbbed with delight, and happy tears 
 filled her eyes. With a start she looked up. 
 She had heard a step approach ; she now saw a 
 dark form draw near, then suddenly pause, and 
 sit on the wall against which she leaned. Some- 
 thing in the height, in the gait, at once made her 
 
 I 3
 
 178 GRACE LEE. 
 
 recognise John Owen. He, too, had come there 
 to refresh his spirit with the peace and silence of 
 the night; but he neither saw her nor was he 
 conscious of her presence. Miss Lee, not wish- 
 ing to appear or be seen, remained very still, in 
 the hope he would go first ; but Mr. Owen 
 showed no inclination to move from the spot, 
 where he sat with folded arms and looks bent 
 on the sea. Grace waited ; then losing patience, 
 she rose and said quietly : 
 
 " Good-night/' 
 
 He moved slightly ; but before he could reply, 
 the languid voice of Captain Glawdon was heard 
 observing, from an alley close by : 
 
 '^ Good-night ! and what spirit says good-night 
 at this hour ? " 
 
 "Would you have it say good-night in the 
 morning ? '^ 
 
 "Humph!'' 
 
 " Or do you, perhaps, object to the wanderings 
 of spirits ? ''
 
 GRACE LEE. 179 
 
 " Not in the least, if I only knew what spirit 
 I am addressing/^ 
 
 " It answers to the name of Grace Lee." 
 
 ^' And may I ask what other spirit was honoured 
 with this adieu ? '' 
 
 No one replied ; but Captain Glawdon stepping 
 up to where John Owen still sat, for he had not 
 moved, easily recognised him. 
 
 '' Oh, Mr. Owen ! " he exclaimed in a tone 
 that said, '' I knew it ! '' 
 
 Captain Glawdon had begun by feigning sus- 
 picions he did not feel ; he now really felt them. 
 He remembered the wish Grace had shown to 
 see this poor and obscure barrister, the satisfac- 
 tion she had betrayed when he had said to her, 
 ^^ You will find him in Wales ; " and coupling 
 these facts with the strange fancies of women in 
 general, and of great and rich ladies in particular, 
 he now fell into a strange and gross mistake. 
 
 ^' Oh, Mr. Owen ! " he said again, " why, I 
 was previously seeking Mr. Owen, and not find-
 
 180 GRACE LEE. 
 
 ing him within the house^ I concluded he was 
 without." 
 
 "Shrewd. Well, good- night to you, too, Cap- 
 tain Glawdon. My wanderings cease as yours 
 begin." 
 
 And before the slow Captain could offer to 
 accompany her, Miss Lee was gone. Her rooms 
 overlooked both the garden and the road that led 
 to the house. She dismissed her maid, extin- 
 guished her lamp, and opened the garden 
 window. It was half-an-hour and more before 
 Captain Glawdon and Mr. Owen re-entered the 
 house ; almost immediately afterwards she heard 
 the front door opening ; she looked out softly and 
 saw Mr. Owen go out, and take the road that 
 
 led to the neighbouring town of W . 
 
 " Good ! " thought Grace, smiling to herself, 
 and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.
 
 GRACE LEE. 181 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The night liad been serene^ and the next morn- 
 ing rose bright and lovely. The mountain breeze 
 came down in the garden sweet and fragrant ; 
 the garden itself was fresh and delighful as the 
 hour ; the golden sun filled it with warmth and 
 brightness ; cool shadows chequered the avenues ; 
 and flowers, fresh as the dew that glittered on 
 their delicate petals and gemmed their green 
 leaves, rose on their stalks straight and beautiful. 
 Waking from their long night slumber, they 
 opened to the morning and filled the air with 
 sweet incense. Doctor Crankey was quietly 
 reading his breviary in the sun, when an arm, 
 passed within his, suddenly roused him. He 
 looked round smiling, but did not speak. Grace,
 
 182 GRACE LEE. 
 
 for of course it was slie, quietly closed his book 
 and said decisively : 
 
 '^ You have done for this morning. I want to 
 take a walk in the mountains, and you are 
 coming with me.^^ 
 
 "At this hour ?^' 
 
 " Certainly at this hour. Besides, look/' and 
 she pushed open a wooden door by which they 
 stood, " early as it is, others have been out before 
 us. Come, come, Doctor Crankey, I am in a 
 hurry.'' 
 
 Doctor Crankey grumbled, and spoke of foolish 
 fancies; but Grace only laughed, and talked of 
 the beauty of the sky, of the freshness of the 
 morning, of the delightful harmony of breeze, 
 flowing water, and singing birds — all blending 
 sweetly in the soHtary places through which she 
 led him. At length they reached a wild valley 
 with rising rocks reddening in the morning 
 sun, and a rushing torrent still in deep shade. 
 The freshness of the hour lingered around the
 
 GRACE LEE. 183 
 
 place, but not its silence or solitude. On a flat, 
 small grassy sward four gentlemen lounged 
 about, smoking and talking. One was Captain 
 Glawdon, who stood leaning in an attitude 
 against the wall of rock behind ; in an opposite 
 direction John Owen walked up and down with 
 rapid steps : his arms were folded, his look was 
 downcast, his face was more sallow than ever. 
 " He looks sullen and dangerous,^'' thought 
 Grace ; but from him her look quickly wandered 
 to two gentlemen who, a little apart, walked 
 up and down. 
 
 " Humph ! what have we got there ? " said, or 
 rather grumbled. Doctor Crankey. 
 
 " They are measuring paces," calmly replied 
 Grace; "one of them is Major Muir; the other, 
 surely I ought to know those blue spectacles and 
 that drooping nose ! The other is Doctor Marsh 
 
 himself, fetched last night from W for the 
 
 praiseworthy purpose. Good morning. Doctor 
 Marsh."
 
 184 GRACE LEE. 
 
 She dropped Doctor Crankey's arm and 
 stepped forward, uttering the salutation in a 
 clear, musical voice. There was a pause resem- 
 bling dismay among the gentlemen. Doctor 
 Marsh remained aghast in the very act of measur- 
 ing, his right foot before his left. Major Muir, 
 too deaf to hear, but not too blind to see Grace, 
 hastily dropped his overcoat on something that 
 lay on the grass. Captain Glawdon hemmed, 
 and, throwing away his cigar, stepped forward 
 with a ready smile. John Owen bowed stiffly and 
 impatiently; then resumed his walk, a moment 
 interrupted. 
 
 " Have you really patients in the Ap Rhydon V 
 resumed Miss Lee, still addressing Doctor Marsh. 
 
 " Hem ! — I — really " Beyond this the dis- 
 concerted Doctor could not go; Grace would, 
 however, have compelled him to some reply or 
 other, had not the Captain interfered. 
 
 " Lovely morning ! " he drawled forth rather 
 than spoke; "the house felt so oppressive, that
 
 GEACE LEE. 185 
 
 Major Muir and I thought we would just inhale 
 the morning breeze before breakfast.^^ 
 
 ^^ You were measuring paces when we came 
 wp," quietly said Grace ; " was that to inhale the 
 . morning breeze ? '^ 
 
 ^^ A race/^ promptly replied Captain Glawdon; 
 " a wager between John Owen and your humble 
 servant. The said John, relying on his moun- 
 tain breeding, boasted himself yesterday evening 
 to be more swift of the foot than George Glaw- 
 don j whereon there issued a friendly discussion 
 and a wager.^^ 
 
 '^ What are the stakes r' 
 
 " My ruby ring against a box of carved wood, 
 which, on the score of its being an heir-loom, 
 he never would part with.^^ 
 
 '^ But risks in a wager ! Consistent. "Well, 
 Captain Glawdon, if Doctor Crankey will stake 
 anything for Mr. Owen, I stand by you. Pray 
 begin; we shall like it above all things." 
 
 ^'^So far as I am concerned," composedly
 
 186 GRACE LEE. 
 
 replied Captain Glawdon, " this is unfortunately 
 out of the question. With a fair lady so near, 
 I should assuredly forget myself." 
 
 "So that, instead of stimulating, I should 
 impede your exertions. What a pity ! I feel 
 I should have liked to see a race — especially 
 between you and Mr. Owen — amazingly." 
 
 The Captain coughed and winced. Grace 
 resumed : 
 
 " But what an odd place for a race, Captain 
 Glawdon ; you have scarcely thirty feet of level 
 ground. Why did you not take the garden 
 rather ?" 
 
 " Not solitary enough," replied the Caj)tain, 
 giving her a mistrustful look. " We were afraid 
 of disturbing the ladies." 
 
 "1 fear I shall not prove so considerate. I 
 am selfish enough to interrupt the pastime I 
 cannot share ; and since I am not to see the race, 
 why, then, I think I shall stay here and 
 prevent it."
 
 GRACE LEE. 187 
 
 She sat down on a ledge of rock as slie spoke. 
 
 The Captain bowed. 
 
 "I submit," lie said, politely; and coming 
 round to where she sat, he offered to escort her 
 home. 
 
 Grace did not answer ; her look fell on Major 
 Muir and Doctor Marsh, who stood apart 
 conversing in low tones. Then she turned to 
 him and said : 
 
 " I suppose they are fixing on some spot more 
 convenient than Ap Rhydon has proved." 
 
 " I should not wonder," he coolly replied, again 
 offering her his arm. 
 
 " Thank you," said Grace, '' I am not going in 
 yet, besides I want to speak to Mr. Owen." 
 
 The Captain could not oppose a wish so 
 distinctly stated. He whistled and walked off to 
 Major Muir and Doctor Marsh, whilst Miss Lee, 
 raising her voice, said clearly and distinctly : — 
 " Mr. Owen." 
 
 John Owen, who was still walking up and down
 
 188 GKACE LEE. 
 
 without taking the least share in what passed 
 around him, did not heed the appeal, which Grace 
 was obliged to repeat in a louder key. 
 
 " Mr. Owen, I should like to speak to you if 
 you please." 
 
 On hearing his name, he stopped short and 
 raised his head. He looked fixedly at Miss Lee, 
 whilst she uttered her request, then without 
 replying came round to the rock where she sat 
 waiting. By her sat Doctor Crankey, who had 
 very calmly looked on the , whole time. 
 
 " Mr. Owen," said Grace looking from him to 
 Doctor Crankey, '^'^have you forgotten an old 
 friend?" 
 
 Mr. Owen gave the priest a surprised and 
 attentive look. 
 
 ^^Yes John," carelessly said Doctor Crankey, 
 "you see your old teacher, and what have you 
 been doing with yourself since I saw you last ? " 
 
 " I have taken to the bar." 
 
 *' The bar, and why the bar ? the devil was the
 
 GRACE LEE. 189 
 
 first barrister in my opinion^ Eve was his first 
 client, and we pay the costs to this day/^ 
 
 " I shall treasure up the fact for my history of 
 eminent lawyers — if I should write one. By-the- 
 by, sir, when will your History of the Church be 
 finished ? '' 
 
 "Before yours is begun, Til be bound/' 
 "And so,'' here interfered Captain Glawdon, 
 who had sauntered back to where they stood, 
 " and so you will not come home now." 
 He spoke to Grace. 
 
 " No, thank you," she carelessly replied, " Ap 
 Rhydon is pleasant in the morning." 
 
 The Captain bowed and walked ofi" with Major 
 Muir. Doctor Marsh remained behind looking 
 foolish ; but he kept at a good distance from the 
 group on the rock, and, botanically inclined, 
 searched amongst the stones by the torrent for 
 plants and flowers. 
 
 Doctor Crankey looked up at Mr. Owen, and 
 said in his sarcastic fashion : —
 
 190 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " We were talking of the devil. It strikes me 
 Jolin, that he must have been very busy with you 
 this morning. So j^ou were going to fight a duel 
 with that dandy, that coxcomb, that fool who 
 reckons his duels by the rings on his fingers. 
 Well, well, I thought more of an ambitious man 
 like you — and pray," he abruptly added, "" what 
 was the duel to be about ? " 
 
 He spoke of it as of a play to be acted. 
 Grace smiled mischievously. Mr. Owen looked 
 from her to Doctor Crankey, and said haughtily : — 
 
 "You are privileged, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! you will not call me out. Truly, John, 
 I am very much obliged to you. Well, Grace, 
 are you coming ? " he added, rising. 
 
 Miss Lee took his arm, and with a quiet bend - 
 of the head to Mr. Owen, she left the spot. 
 
 ""How did you know all this was to be?^ 
 abruptly asked Doctor Crankey. 
 
 " I did not know it, I guessed it, and Providence 
 you see sent us in time."
 
 GRACE LEE. 191 
 
 Doctor Crankey was not a tender-liearted man. 
 
 " Well^ well/' he said, " if it were not for the 
 sin of the thing, I cannot say that I should 
 understand why Providence interfered in that 
 particular matter, when Providence as we all 
 know, daily allows many a better man than that 
 sullen-faced John Owen, or that pink-eyed Captain 
 Glawdon, to perish miserably. Truly,'' he added 
 in his most thoughtful tone, ^^the ways of 
 Providence are inscrutable," and the reflection 
 led him into a train of thought which completely 
 caused him to forget the incident of the 
 morning. 
 
 Miss Lee said nothing to remind him of it • 
 but as soon as she reached the house, she asked 
 to speak to Gerald Lee. He came at once, kind, 
 courteous, and attentive. 
 
 " How well you look this morning," he said as 
 he sat down by her ; and, indeed, her cheek wore 
 a bloom not borrowed from the rose-coloured 
 curtains near which she sat.
 
 192 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " I have had an early walk, thanks to your 
 brother-in-law/' 
 
 " What has he been doing ? ^^ asked Mr. Lee^ 
 looking uneasy. 
 
 '' He has annoyed me." 
 
 " That man is a thorn in my side," said Mr. 
 Lee, rising and pacing the room up and down, 
 ''he is a gambler, a spendthrift, worse still, a 
 fool. To be ever paying his debts is provoking 
 enough ; but it is nothing to the constant dread 
 in which I live that he will do something to 
 disgrace the family with which he is unfortu- 
 nately connected. What has he been doing?" 
 he again asked, stopping short before her. 
 
 " I will tell you in his presence," she replied, 
 smiling. " I do not like him ; but I like fair play." 
 
 Mr. Lee rang, gave a message to the servant 
 that answered the bell, and in a few minutes 
 Captain Glawdon entered the room picking his 
 teeth. 
 
 " De-lighted to see you this morning, Gerald,"
 
 GRACE LEE. 193 
 
 he said, patronisingly extending a fore finger 
 to the man who had five times paid his 
 debts. 
 
 Mr. Lee returned the greeting with a gentle- 
 manly and frozen " Good morning/^ th^n glanced 
 towards Grace^ who addressing him, and looking 
 at Captain Glawdon, quietly though decisively 
 began the attack. 
 
 " I have asked, Mr. Lee/^ she said, " to 
 speak to you in the presence of Captain Glaw- 
 don, in order that you may learn from him on 
 what grounds a gentleman, whom I have seen 
 seven times in all, presumes so far as to watch 
 my movements, judge my actions, and finally 
 challenge another gentleman, a guest of this 
 house, a Mr. John Owen, and that because I 
 show that I take an interest in one whom I 
 remember since I was a child, who often visited 
 my father, and whom I know that my father 
 liked." 
 
 " A duel ! " exclaimed Gerald Lee, turning 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 GRACE LEE. 
 
 sternly on his brother-in-law, who continued to 
 pick his teeth with perfect coolness. 
 
 '^ Yes, truly a duel," answered Grace, '^ a duel 
 of which I, Grace Lee, was to have been the 
 heroine ; a duel which I had to go and prevent at 
 six o'clock this morning/' 
 
 ^' Knowing both the spot and the hour,'' 
 carelessly said the Captain ; " singular, to say the 
 least of it." 
 
 Grace rose and looked him firmly in the face> 
 
 " Captain Glawdon," she said, calmly extend- 
 ing her hand towards him, " you have uttered an 
 untruth and a slander — and you know it." 
 
 The Captain bowed with ironical acknowledg- 
 ment. 
 
 ^' Ladies can say what they please," he began. 
 
 His brother-in-law interrupted him. 
 
 '^ Sir," he said severely, " ever since it was 
 my misfortune to be connected with you — you 
 have done all you could to annoy and provoke 
 me. Yet I confess I did not suspect you
 
 GRACE LEE. 195 
 
 would presume to interfere with Miss Lee^s 
 freedom. I cannot understand your motives for 
 doing so.'' 
 
 " Because, mon cher beau frere, you are too 
 busy with philanthropic schemes to mind your 
 own business.'' 
 
 '^Mj own business/' returned Gerald Lee, 
 reddening. ^^ May I ask you, sir, what business 
 of mine this is ?" 
 
 " Faith ! I thought it touched you pretty 
 closely," bluntly replied the Captain, looking 
 mystified. 
 
 Gerald continued. 
 
 ^^Did I ever by word or look hint that I 
 possessed the least right over the feelings or 
 actions of Miss Lee ? I profess as a man of 
 honour, I never did," he emphatically added, 
 turning towards Grace. 
 
 '' I believe you," she replied, warmly ; " I 
 believe you." And she held out to him her 
 hand, which he kissed respectfully. Then again 
 
 K 2
 
 196 GRACE LEE. 
 
 addressing liis brother-in-law, who looked both 
 puzzled and discomfited, he said : 
 
 " Captain Glawdon, if you will fight duels and 
 disgrace yourself, do not imagine I shall attempt 
 to prevent you ; but I beg you to understand, 
 once for all, that as I claim no control over 
 Miss Lee, I will not allow you to exert an imper- 
 tinent interference which both she and the world 
 would naturally interpret as proceeding from me.^^ 
 
 By the close of this speech Captain Glawdon 
 had recovered his coolness. 
 
 "Is that all, Gerald ?^^ he asked, smoothing 
 his lace ruffles. 
 
 " Yes, sir," gravely replied Mr. Lee, '' that 
 is all." 
 
 '^ De-lighted to hear it," said the Captain, 
 turning on his heel. And he walked oflP hum- 
 ming a tune with the impertinent ease of a man 
 of fashion under Queen Anne. 
 
 " I wonder," observed Mr. Lee, as the door 
 closed on him, " I wonder any one can conde-
 
 GRACE LEE. 197 
 
 scend to quarrel with that man. What sort of a 
 person is that Mr. Owen?" he added, turning to 
 Grace. 
 
 She stood by him with her eyes fixed on a 
 large window that overlooked the garden. 
 
 " You did not observe him yesterday at dinner," 
 she said, without turning round. 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "Well, then, there he stands by that stone 
 vase in the sun." 
 
 Mr. Lee raised his eyeglass, then dropped it 
 again. 
 
 " A peculiar looking man," he said quietly. 
 "What is he?" 
 
 "A barrister who wants to speak, be heard, 
 and become famous. Who had built his fortress 
 on the sand-foundation of our slippery friend, 
 and who is all the more exasperated that his 
 plans are upset by a fool whom he despises, and 
 that he is obliged to fight for a woman about 
 whom he does not care."
 
 198 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Does lie care for the duel ? '^ 
 
 " I cannot tell. I dare say he is too sensible 
 not to feel that there is something rather ridicu- 
 lous in standing within convenient distance of a 
 man at whom you are to shoot, and who is to 
 shoot at you, but not good or brave enough to 
 despise the voice of the world that stigmatises 
 as a coward every man who declines a 
 challenge.''^ 
 
 ^^Do you think him willing to shun this 
 encounter ? " 
 
 " He did not seek it, but I do not think he 
 will take a step to avoid it. Manage without 
 him, Mr. Lee. I have a fancy that there are 
 strange turns in his temper." 
 
 '^ Pray have no fear," composedly said Mr. Lee. 
 " I shall manage without him, as you say ; Glaw- 
 don must give in. I am sick of his folly: con- 
 sider the matter settled." 
 
 " What matter ? " said the light voice of Lily, 
 who had opened the door unheard, and now
 
 GRACE L^E. 199 
 
 looked curiously at tliem both. " Have you 
 already begun philanthropy in Wales ? " 
 
 Mr. Lee did not condescend to reply to the 
 impertinent question. Grace looked at him 
 deprecatingly ; then looked to Lily, and said 
 — '^ Incorrigible ! " 
 
 With a laugh the young girl turned away and 
 left them. 
 
 " Pray excuse her/^ observed Miss Lee, address- 
 ing Mr. Lee, ^' she is young — heedless.^' 
 
 " Do not mention it,^' he interrupted, smiling. 
 "Miss Blount is a spoiled child." And again 
 assuring her that he would arrange everything 
 between Captain Glawdon and Mr. Owen, he 
 left her. 
 
 The day was mild yet sunny. Miss Lee 
 spent the best part of it in the garden with 
 Lily. Mr. Rashleigh Rashleigh lounged about 
 the two ladies. To Grace he gave most flattery ; 
 to Lily there is no denying that he gave most 
 looks. Grace took all his homage as a matter of
 
 ^00 GEACE LEE. 
 
 course — Lily his admiring glances with ironical 
 coolness. At length Mr. Rashleigh Rashleigh, 
 feeUng, perhaps, that he lost his labour, walked 
 off with himself. 
 
 He was scarcely gone, when Lily with flushed 
 cheeks and flashing eyes, exclaimed : 
 
 " I detest Mr. Eashleigh.'' 
 
 " Why so ? '' asked Grace, surprised at this 
 outburst. 
 
 *' I tell you I detest him. And he shall feel 
 it yet some day.^^ 
 
 She looked very passionate and very pretty. 
 So pretty that Miss Lee with the indulgence 
 ■which beauty ever wins forgot to chide. And in 
 the meanwhile a step was heard on the gravel 
 path, a shadow fell on the grass, and Mr. Owen 
 with a slight bow had passed on. Without 
 saying a word to Lil}^, Grace rose ; took another 
 path, and in a fcAv minutes had reached the spot 
 where it met that which Mr. Owe-n had taken. 
 
 He was coming alcng with downcast eyes and
 
 GRACE LEE. 201 
 
 folded arms wlieii lie suddenly saw her before 
 liim, Slie stood under a tall oak tree in its 
 spreading shadow. She wore a simple white 
 muslin dress^ and a broad round straw hat^ that 
 half shaded her face and dark clustering curls. 
 She looked not unlike one of the brown Tuscan 
 girls of central Italy ; but though the garden was 
 beautiful, though the day was lovely, these were 
 not the colline amene, the pleasant hills, the sunny 
 vineyards, the azure sky of the fertile Tuscan 
 garden. 
 
 '' How very plain she is,^^ thought Mr. Owen, 
 who, without caring much about women, had a 
 keen sense of beauty, and Avho had never seen 
 Grace so near in broad daylight. 
 
 Perhaps something in his look betrayed his 
 secret thought, for a warm glow gathered over 
 the face of Miss Lee ; yet with a smile she said : 
 
 '' Mr. Owen, I understand from Mr. Lee that 
 
 you mean to leave to-day.''^ 
 
 " Now,^^ he interrupted quietly. 
 
 k3
 
 202 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Well then, before you go, let me beg of you 
 to forgive me the annoyance I have involuntarily 
 caused you to endure in this house/' 
 
 It was his turn to smile. 
 
 " Captain Glawdon wanted a quarrel with me," 
 he replied ; " forgive me rather that he involved 
 you in that which concerned me alone. He has 
 apologised and retracted ; I am satisfied : let 
 nothing in all this trouble and annoy you.'' 
 
 Grace looked up at him gently and reproach- 
 fully. She seemed to ask for a reply less cold, 
 less formal, but nothing in her had the good 
 fortune to please Mr. Owen. He bowed, and 
 passed on. 
 
 Miss Lee looked after him a little wistfully, 
 then she smiled to herself, and slowly turned 
 away. Her pride was placed too high for a proud 
 man's slight to move or affect it. All she 
 thought vras — " I wonder why that man dislikes
 
 GKACE LEE. 203 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Mr. Owen thought no more of his two days^ 
 adventure in Wales. Again thrown back on 
 the living death of silence and oblivion, he bore 
 his fate with a sullen calmness that was not 
 resignation. 
 
 He sat as usual one evening in his solitary- 
 room, revolving useless schemes, when Ann 
 knocked at his door, and silently laid a letter on 
 his table. 
 
 Mr. Owen received few letters. He curiously 
 raised this to the light. It was a note, small, 
 perfumed, neatly sealed, and directed to John 
 Owen, Esq., in a free though elegant female 
 hand. He broke the seal with some curiosity.
 
 204 GRACE LEE. 
 
 and read the brief contents : — " Miss Lee's 
 comp]iments_, and an invitation to dinner on the 
 Thursday of the following week/^ 
 
 Mr. Owen read the note twice over^ unable to 
 understand its drift. He felt conscious that he 
 had not been so amiable or so courteous as to be 
 entitled to any great kindness from Miss Lee. 
 What did she mean — to conquer or humble his 
 stubborn pride ? Whatever her intention might 
 be, he resolved to show her that he did not fear 
 her. He sat down^ wrote off an answer by which 
 he accepted the invitation,, and calmly waited 
 the day. 
 
 He began well. Six was Miss Lee's dinner- 
 hour ; seven struck as he crossed the threshold 
 of her mansion. It overlooked Hyde Park, and 
 simple and " unpretending without, like a Moorish 
 dwelling, it was like it within splendid and 
 luxurious. Beautiful statues and rare flowers 
 adorned either side of the marble staircase that 
 led to magnificent apartments above. The floors
 
 GRACE LEE. 205 
 
 were covered with Turkish carpets of vivid and 
 brilliant hues, and on which the foot fell softly 
 and silently. Through curtains of the lightest 
 and most costly texture the fading light of day 
 penetrated, mild and subdued, or in rooms already 
 darkened, lamps burned brightly ; fair alabaster 
 figures and bronze groups their only guests. At 
 length the footman who glided along this fairy 
 place noiseless as a shadow, opened a wide door ; 
 beyond it extended a splendid drawing-room ; the 
 three or four seconds the servant took to utter 
 his name sufficed to John Owen to seize it in one 
 rapid glance. A lamp suspended from the ceiling 
 shed its brilliant light over a group, in the centre 
 of which stood Miss Lee talking to a little old 
 man half-bent in two; farther on a beautiful 
 woman reclined on a divan, and laughed and 
 jested with a tall moustachio'd gentleman ; three 
 other gentlemen conversed apart, and two ladies 
 were bent admiringly over a table of exquisite 
 anosaic work.
 
 206 GRACE LEE. 
 
 They all looked up or turned round on his 
 entrance. Miss Lee advanced to meet him, and 
 received him with more politeness than cordiality, 
 more as a stranger than like a friend ; then she 
 introduced him to the three ladies and five 
 gentlemen present. It is a good thing to be cool 
 and self-possessed. John Owen showed neither 
 surprise nor pleasure, nor any feeling save that 
 of civil indifference. This supercilious bearing, 
 joined to the fact that he had kept them an hour 
 waiting for their dinner, raised him considerably 
 in the opinion of all present ; according to a well- 
 known and easy standard, his importance was 
 accurately measured by his impertinence. That 
 he might be socially speaking no one, was an 
 extravagant fancy that occurred to none. The 
 mere fact that without being intimate with him, 
 Miss Lee had asked him to her pet Thursday 
 dinners, proved the contrary. The only question 
 at issue therefore was, what was Mr. Owen? 
 Miss Lee had simply said that she expected
 
 GRACE LEE. 207 
 
 another guest, but had said no more. The dmner 
 interrupted several speculations which had already- 
 begun on the subject. 
 
 We will not commit the fame of Miss Lee^s 
 Thursday dinners by giving an account of them ; 
 with the indescribable charm of look, tone, and 
 manner wanting, wit spoken might not prove wit 
 written ; and remarks that seemed striking or 
 deep when heard above the jingling of glasses and 
 the hum of frivolous table-talk, might now read 
 flat and dull. Suffice it to assure the reader that 
 the cooking was perfect ; that the wines were 
 exquisite ; that old Mr. Hanley was very bitter 
 and very funny ; Woodman clever and dogmatic ; 
 Brandon brilliant; Mr. Austin entertaining; 
 Stevens rather prosy; Mrs. Chesterfield dehght- 
 fully amiable ; and Mrs. Brandon and Mrs. Stevens 
 as usual rather quiet ; but, lest he should feel too 
 disappointed, let us also assure him that, after all, 
 nothing wonderfully deep, learned, original, or 
 witty was said the whole evening. John Owen
 
 208 GRACE LEE. 
 
 ate little and drank less, looked indifferent and 
 cool, and, though seated by the beautiful Mrs, 
 Chesterfield, never opened his lips unless no-w- 
 and then to answer some remark addressed to 
 him by Miss Lee. 
 
 She devoted, however, the chief portion of her 
 discourse to Mr. Hanley and Mr. Woodman, 
 between whom she sat. Turning to the latter at 
 the close of the meal she said : 
 
 " How very amusing Mr. Brandon has been 
 this evening.^' 
 
 " Very witty,^^ coldly replied the critic. 
 
 He was just then on indifferent terms with 
 Brandon. He had been, as every one knows, the 
 making of Brandon ; he had proclaimed Brandon 
 a genius when the world was still ignorant of his 
 existence. He had sung the praises of Brandon 
 on every string; he had offered up numberless 
 victims on his altar, and sacrificed daily to this 
 insatiable literary Moloch. Yet, hard fate ! — 
 Brandon had turned upon him.
 
 GRACE LEE. 209 
 
 Thus it happened ; the great satirist, seized with 
 a poetic fit, had related to the world the story of a 
 fair young creature, a sort of mortal sylph, and 
 Joe Woodman had plainly told him in print that 
 his sylph was all humbug, and in a friendly way 
 had advised him " to give again to the public 
 one of his keen sarcastic portraitures of human 
 nature/^ Isaac Brandon took up his pen, and 
 avenged his sylph by giving the public Joe 
 Woodman to the life. Inde ires! 
 
 Since then they had been very cool and very 
 civil. Mr. Woodman was wise enough to take 
 what he had got and keep his peace ; but he 
 meditated a signal revenge : no less than the 
 putting down of Brandon and the raising up of 
 some genius in his stead. Geniuses, however, 
 not being very common, he was compelled to 
 protract his kind intentions, and the better to lull 
 the suspicions of Brandon to sleep, he remained 
 on speaking terms with him, and even affected to 
 mention him with an increase of kindness.
 
 210 GEACE LEE. 
 
 " Yes, very witty/^ lie repeated, again address- 
 ing Miss Lee: "Brandon is a wit; wit, I will 
 venture to add, is his forte." 
 
 "He has a fine phrenological development, 
 however." 
 
 " Not wonderful," mildly corrected Mr. Wood- 
 man: "large perceptive, small reflective facul- 
 ties ; much smaller, for instance, than that sallow 
 man near him, who has mt quite as large. 
 Splendid head; I wonder where I have seen 
 him?" 
 
 He turned to Miss Lee and put in his most 
 careless tones, the question which had been on 
 the tip of his tongue ever since they had sat 
 down to dinner. 
 
 "I really know too little of Mr. Owen to 
 be able to enlighten you," quietly replied Grace. 
 "Pray have some of this ambroisie h la Lee, 
 as Monsieur Baptiste does me the honour to 
 call it." 
 
 " Monsieur Baptiste is a clever man," sen-
 
 GEACE LEE. 211 
 
 tentiously observed the critic ; " and so/' he 
 added, with adroit negligence, " you have not 
 known him long ? '' 
 
 " I have had him some months/^ 
 
 "Mr. Owen!" 
 
 ''Mr. Owen! oh! no, Baptiste of course. 
 We are talking of Baptiste, Mr. Hanley,'' she 
 added, turning to the old barrister ; " and of his 
 ambroisie a la Lee. What do you say to it? 
 He has acknowledged to me that he awaits your 
 verdict with un peu d' emotion.'' 
 
 Mr. Hanley, one of the most genuine gour- 
 mands of the age, bowed in acknowledgment of 
 the compliment, and half shutting his eyes to 
 concentrate the powers of sense, he tasted this 
 ambrosial food after the most leisurely fashion. 
 For the information of the curious, we can state 
 that in colour it was green and brown; in 
 substance neither quite solid, nor yet completely 
 liquid — as to its real nature, it was known to 
 heaven and Monsieur Baptiste !
 
 213 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Very delicious, indeed/' approvingly ob- 
 served Mr. Hanley : " and what is it made 
 of?'' 
 
 ''Monsieur Baptiste ransacked London, then 
 locked himself up for three days in his study. 
 The name of one of the ingredients is, however, 
 known to me ; but T am pledged to the most 
 inviolable secrecy." 
 
 " ShaU I guess ? " 
 
 " You cannot ; the taste is so thoroughly 
 disguised as to be wholly lost. Mr. Woodman, 
 pray have more ? " 
 
 "Thank you — he is a political writer, is he 
 not ? " 
 
 " Who ? — Ah ! you mean Mr. Owen. Heaven 
 knows. Were you speaking, sir ? " " 
 
 "I was giving it as my humble opinion," 
 shrewdly replied Mr. Hanley, "that Monsieur 
 Baptiste has made a free use of almonds." 
 
 Grace smiled and shook her head; the old 
 lawyer looked disappointed ; and Joe Woodman,
 
 GKACE LEE. 213 
 
 wlio had a critical likiug for contradiction,, 
 said^ drily : 
 
 " Almonds ! Rice, rather/^ 
 
 "Rice!'^ contemptuously muttered Hanley to 
 the beautiful Mrs. Chesterfield^ by whom he sat. 
 " I never thought anything of that man's judg- 
 ment. — Rice ! " 
 
 " It tastes more like maize/' placidly ob- 
 served Mr. StevenSj swallowing down a large 
 spoonful. 
 
 " Oh ! ye gods ! '' ejaculated Hanley, whose 
 eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, lit with impotent 
 wrath on the unconscious and careless artist, 
 " Maize ! What will come next ; flour ? " 
 
 The next guess was by no means a vulgar 
 one. Mr. Austin, the great traveller, gave the 
 name of some Chinese dainty, in thirteen 
 syllables of two letters each; but Grace still 
 smiled, and shook her head. 
 
 "They know nothing about it,'' impatiently 
 said Mr. Hanley, again addressing Mrs. Chester-
 
 214 GRACE LEE. 
 
 field. '^Look at that Gotli; he has not even 
 tasted his.^' 
 
 The Goth was John Owen, whose ambrosia 
 remained untouched on his plate. Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield was more clear-sighted than Joe Wood- 
 man; she had her suspicions concerning her 
 neighbour. She had a strong impression that 
 he might be no one ; and not being remarkable 
 for caring much about unknown people, she now 
 turned to John Owen, dropped her eyelids, and 
 said, with a smile both gracious and ironical: 
 
 '' Do not you like ambrosia, Mr. Owen ? '' 
 
 " I never touch oysters, ma'am,^' he replied, 
 calmly. 
 
 " Oysters ! '' exclaimed Mr. Hanley, to whom 
 the word was a flash of light, — "oysters! how, 
 could I not find it out at once ! Wonderful ! 
 perfectly wonderful ! " 
 
 He looked with unfeigned admiration at 
 John Owen, who bore his triumph with great 
 equanimity.
 
 GRACE LEE. 215 
 
 " Vou have a subtle taste, sir/^ deferentially 
 said the barrister. "1 would give sometbing 
 to possess a palate so delicate in tbe art of 
 detecting." 
 
 " Mine bad notbing to do witb tbis ; I smelt 
 tbe oysters, and tbat was enougb/' replied Mr. 
 Owen, who did not seem to relisb tbe praise. 
 
 Mr. Hanley nearly dipped his nose in bis plate, 
 but after smelling awhile, be looked up and 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Sir,^' he said gravely, " your nose is better 
 than mine; I am very fond of oysters, but I 
 never could have guessed there were any in tbis 
 ambroisie a la Lee.^' 
 
 "And I detest them," drily answered Owen, 
 " and hate naturally deceives us less than 
 love." 
 
 "A deep remark," sententiously observed 
 Mr. Woodman to Miss Lee; "I trust," he 
 added, lowering his voice, " tbat Mr. Owen is on 
 our side."
 
 216 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " I know nothing about him or his opinions/^ 
 gravely replied Grace. 
 
 The critic gave her a look of mingled scrutiny 
 and doubt. He had never known Miss Lee to 
 ask any but celebrities to her Thursday'- dinners : 
 John Owen might be anonymously famous, but 
 surely he had done something to obtain the dis- 
 tinction conferred upon him ! Grace caught his 
 look, and amused at the direction his thoughts 
 persisted in taking, she smiled mysteriously, but 
 eluded all further questioning by rising and thus 
 giving the ladies the signal of retiring. As she 
 left the room, she cast a furtive look at John 
 Owen. He still sat quiet, and apparently indif- 
 ferent ; but she could detect him keenly watching 
 both Hanley and Woodman, like a wary archer 
 who keeps his aim in view long before he bends 
 his bow. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield disliked leaving the dining- 
 room for the drawing-room, or, to speak more 
 correctly, the compan}^ of men for that of her
 
 GIUCE LEE. 217 
 
 own sex. As a general rnle she became sulky 
 and ill-tempered. Her first act on the present 
 occasion was to resume exclusive possession of 
 the best divan, and there by shutting her eyes 
 and remaining wholly silent^ to recruit for a new 
 fit of amiability. Miss Lee^ in the meanwhile, 
 entertained Mrs. Brandon and Mrs. Stevens, 
 both, as the wives of remarkable men generally 
 are, quiet, inoffensive women; mild reflectors of 
 their husbands' glory, whom the beauty in- 
 variably disregarded. She rallied a little when 
 coffee came up, but feeling put out by the length 
 of time her faithless admirers consumed below 
 out of the light of her smiles, she indulged in a 
 little bit of spite ; sipping her coffee with indolent 
 grace, and giving her voice the quiet, careless 
 tones with which she generally despatched any 
 individual so hapless as to have undergone the 
 ban of her displeasure, she said to Miss Lee, 
 " How very quiet your new friend is ? " 
 " What friend ? '' calmlv asked Grace. 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 218 GRACE LEE. 
 
 "Oh! tliat Mr. . . . Mr. Onion, ... is not 
 that his name? " she added, opening her blue 
 eves, and looking as innocent.as a dove in a wood. 
 
 "Onion?" simply ejaculated Mrs. Brandon. 
 ^' What a funny name ! ^^ 
 
 "Ridiculous," said Mrs. Stevens, giggling, 
 " Onion ! " 
 
 " Do not mention him," quietly observed Grace, 
 turning to Mrs. Chesterfield, "I must expose 
 him. Knowing him, spite of all his talent, to be 
 a perfect bear to women, I made him sit next to 
 you with the hope that you could tame him a 
 little; but now I have done with him, and to 
 punish him, I shall tell every one how he has 
 behaved to you, and disgrace him for ever.'^ 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield was a celebrated catcher and 
 tamer of clever male bears. On her successes in 
 this difficult art, even more than on her charms, 
 was based her name as a fascinating beauty. 
 One failure might prove fatal to her fame ; she 
 hastened to atone for the error she had com-
 
 GKACE LEE. 219 
 
 mitted, in attempting to ridicule a person in the 
 favour of Miss Lee. 
 
 " Surely, my dear," she exclaimed, raising her 
 graceful head, " you do not think I meant Mr. 
 Owen,'^ (she suddenly remembered his name), '^ a 
 very clever, witty man, — whom I never saw be- 
 fore," she added, to remind Miss Lee that her 
 bear was not, at all events, a famous one. " I 
 was alluding," she continued, "to the traveller 
 with the Chinese face, who sat between Mrs. 
 Brandon and Mrs. Stevens." 
 
 " And is his name Onion ? " asked Mrs. 
 Brandon, of whose mind the word had taken 
 strong hold. 
 
 " Really I do not know/' ironically replied 
 Mrs. Chesterfield. 
 
 " His name is Austin," drily said Mrs. Stevens ; 
 " a very agreeable man indeed," she added, 
 turning to Miss Lee; "what an interesting ac- 
 count that was of Sultana Ka-el-Issali." 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield looked as if she felt disposed 
 
 l2
 
 220 GRACE LEE. 
 
 to deliyer some piece of impertinence, but was 
 prevented by the sudden entrance of the 
 gentlemen. 
 
 Mr. Austin returned to Mrs. Brandon and 
 Mrs. Stevens, by whom he was very graciously 
 received ; the husbands of these two ladies shared 
 the attention of Mrs. Chesterfield. John Owen 
 quietly took possession of the only seat free by 
 Miss Lee. IMr. Hanley and Joe Woodman 
 conversed a little apart. The face of the critic 
 expressed insinuating deference; the old man 
 listened to him with his hands behind his back, 
 his head on one side and a sarcastic smile on 
 his face. He had often called the critic Joe 
 Humbug, and was accustomed to mention him 
 familiarly under this appellation; just as Mr. 
 Woodman aptly called him old Reynard. Both 
 names, to say the truth, were not unmerited, but 
 added nothing to the limited degree of friend- 
 liness that existed between Mr. Hanley and 
 Mr. Woodman.
 
 GEACE LEE. 221 
 
 On this occasion Reynard proved too much 
 for the other. Mr. Woodman, giving up Miss 
 Lee as hopeless, was endeavouring to find out 
 from Mr. Hanley who and what John Owen 
 was. He coukl not have applied to one better 
 informed on the subject. Mr. Hanley knew 
 everything about John Owen; his ambition, his 
 struggles, his present position, his desperate 
 efi'orts to rise above the dull stream of obscurity. 
 He watched him as a Roman citizen watched 
 the gladiator engaged in mortal combat; alike 
 ready to hail his fall or his triumph ; impartially 
 indifferent to either. 
 
 Two motives, however, prevented him from 
 gratifying the curiosity of Mr. Woodman. The 
 first was a legal habit of reserve he seldom 
 broke through. Miss Lee gave good dinners, 
 what was it to him what guests she asked? 
 The second motive was, that through the care- 
 less inquiries of the critic, he read the secret 
 belief that John Owen was some great unknown.
 
 22^ GRACE LEE. 
 
 and he could not resist the exquisite delight of 
 leading his critical sagacity on thi^ false scent. 
 The task was easy. Joe Woodman had begun 
 life with a few select ideas, to which he had 
 faithfully adhered ever since, and which the 
 prospect of an empire would not have induced 
 him to change. The first and foremost of these 
 was a boundless faith and confidence in the 
 infallibility of his own judgment. Instead, 
 therefore, of opening his eyes to the truth, he 
 pertinaciously shut them and gave himself up 
 to his deceiver. Mr. Woodman was very fond 
 of an operation he called pumping. AVith a 
 meek simplicity that ought to have awakened 
 his suspicions, the old barrister allowed him to 
 pump up the following information. Firstly, 
 that John Owen was in the law ; secondly, that 
 he wrote for the daily press; thirdly, that some 
 of the most clever things in the " Times '' came 
 from his pen, but that this was a profound 
 secret. Having thus converted an obscure
 
 GKACE LEE. 223 
 
 reporter into a second Junius, he modestly 
 declared lie knew no more on the subject. 
 Satisfied with the clever manner in which *^he 
 had got it all out of him/^ Mr. Woodman put 
 no more questions, but having, like Frederick 
 the Great, extracted the juice from the orange, 
 he threw away the rind and quietly walked off. 
 No sooner was Mr. Hanley free than he found 
 himself beckoned to by Mrs. Chesterfield. He 
 obeyed; with a directness of attack suitable to 
 her style of conquering beauty, she said at 
 once: 
 
 " Who is that Mr. Owen ? Brandon and 
 Stevens have been questioning me about him." 
 
 " Let them ask Woodman,'^ carelessly replied 
 the old man, taking a perverse pleasure in mis- 
 leading her too, " he knows all about him." 
 Mrs. Chesterfield was generally on her guard 
 against Mr. Hanley, but for once she allowed 
 herself to be caught. Though still exquisitely 
 beautiful she was no longer in the prime of
 
 224 GEACE LEE. 
 
 youth. She had had time to watch many a 
 star from its rise to its setting, and it was 
 part of her reputation to know e\^ery one worth 
 knowing. She rose, looked about, chatted with 
 Brandon, admired a Velasquez with Stevens, 
 laughed at an Eastern story told by Mr. Austin, 
 and quite casually found herself close to Mr. 
 Woodman, who stood magnificently leaning 
 with his back to the marble mantel-piece. 
 Before she could frame a question, he had said 
 in his most careless tones : 
 
 " By the way, how long have you known that 
 
 dark man who sat by you, O , O ; I 
 
 don't remember his name, but he writes for 
 the ^ Times.''' 
 
 " Oh ! you mean Mr. Owen," negligently 
 replied Mrs. Chesterfield, feeling a surprise she 
 did not betray, "really how can I tell; one 
 forgets half the people one knows." 
 
 " Clever fellow ! " emphatically said Joe Wood- 
 man, " pity he does not forsake politics, for
 
 GRACE LEE. 225 
 
 which he is too personal and bitter, for some- 
 thing in the way of Brandon — only a little 
 deeper." 
 
 "And I who called him Mr. Onion/' re- 
 morsefully thought Mrs. Chesterfield ; " how 
 unkind of Miss Lee to tell me nothing about 
 him." 
 
 " Suppose you give him a hint to that 
 effect," confidentially continued Woodman. He 
 gave her a knowing glance. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterfield coughed and looked doubt- 
 ful, and said emphatically, "He is very wilful." 
 
 "Try nevertheless," was the significant answer. 
 
 Here Brandon called the attention of Mrs. 
 Chesterfield, and Stevens claimed that of Wood- 
 man. The beauty and the critic parted, mutu- 
 ally deceiving and deceived. " I must have 
 met him before," thought Mrs. Chesterfield; 
 " how odd I cannot remember where." Here 
 chancing to turn round to give another look 
 to the individual who occupied her thoughts.
 
 226 GEACE LEE. 
 
 she saw him taking leave of Miss Lee, and 
 in the act of departing. Prompt, according 
 to her habit, she deliberately stepped up to 
 him. Ignoring the fact that he was going, she 
 said with her most seductive smile, ''Mr. 
 Owen, how is it you and I have never met 
 before ? " 
 
 Here John caught the uneasy look of Grace, 
 but he did not need the warning. By temper 
 he was always on his guard. He looked fixedly 
 at the beautiful face before him. 
 
 "Are you sure, ma'am," he replied com- 
 posedly, ''that you and I have never met 
 before. '^ 
 
 " Where then did we meet ? " she asked 
 promptly. 
 
 "I do not remember,^' he leisurely replied,- 
 after giving her another look. Mrs. Chester- 
 field rapidly ran over in her mind the names 
 of all the persons at whose houses she might 
 have met him. Seeing her silent, he thought
 
 GRACE LEE. 227 
 
 she had no more to say, and with a formal 
 bow, left her. 
 
 "Extraordinary behaviour ! ^^ said Mrs. Ches- 
 terfield, drawing herself up and looking piqued. 
 
 "Pray do not mind him,^'' observed Grace, 
 laying her hand on the fair lady^s arm. "I 
 told you he was a bear.^^ 
 
 " Let him be as much of a bear as he likes,^' 
 thought Mrs. Chesterfield, " I shall tame him." 
 
 In parting from Mr. Owen, Miss Lee had 
 asked him, once for all, to her Thursday dinners, 
 and he availed himself of the invitation. She 
 treated him with a friendliness and courtesy that 
 tended to raise him in the opinion of the other 
 guests. Thanks to her, he was received by Mrs. 
 Chesterfield, flattered by Woodman, and high 
 in the favour of old Mr. Hanley, the man of 
 all who could best assist him. If he derived no 
 actual benefit from these things, the gate was 
 open to him; he stood on the threshold; it
 
 2:28 GRACE LEE. 
 
 was now liis to enter and win. He often saw 
 and met Miss Lee, but never alone. This bril- 
 liant star seemed to have attracted him within 
 her sphere, the better to let him feel the im- 
 measurable distance between so poor a man and 
 so great a lady. Yet in her manner to him he 
 could trace nothing like pride, nothing like 
 the insolence of condescension. Ever simple, 
 natural, and free, without exacting it, she com- 
 manded respect. 
 
 Better than from afar, Mr. Owen now saw 
 what a splendid, what a charmed life was led by- 
 Miss Lee. He saw her in her own home, with a 
 court ever around her ; he saw her in the world, 
 where she had introduced him, eclipsing beauty, 
 rank, wit; the object of universal homage. He 
 heard her name in every mouth, ever coupled 
 with admiration. The strangest things which 
 she did, and she was too imaginative and too 
 independent not to do strange things now and 
 then, won their meed of praise. Amongst the
 
 GRACE LEE. 229 
 
 many ways by wliich the briefless barrister 
 managed to eke out an income^ one was to 
 contribute theatrical reviews for a weekly paper. 
 One evenings in the full height of the season, he 
 accordingly entered the small and elegant house 
 of Saint James, there to sit in judgment on a 
 young French actress, Mademoiselle Aurelie, then 
 of great promise, and afterwards of great fame. 
 Miss Lee, as usual, was in her box, near 
 the stage, surrounded with her court of friends 
 and admirers. The light fell full on her dark, 
 animated face. She wore yellow roses in her 
 braided hair; yellow roses were fastened in 
 the front of her gold-coloured dress. A bouquet 
 of yellow roses rested on her silken lap. Her 
 handsome arms were covered with bracelets; 
 she sparkled with jewels, and looked like a 
 queen. But gayer and far happier than a 
 queen she seemed. The play acted that night 
 was a French vaudeville, light yet charm- 
 ing. Mademoiselle Aurelie sustained her part
 
 230 GRACE LEE. 
 
 admirably. She moved to laughter and to 
 tears even her somewhat blase audience. Twice 
 she was recalled to receive bouquets and 
 applause. The first flowers thrown at her feet 
 were the yellow roses of Grace Lee ; and in 
 them, as his own eyes told him, and as the 
 audible whispers around him repeated, was one 
 of the rich bracelets which she had worn that 
 evening. Mr. Owen saw Lily laugh, and Mr. 
 Gerald Lee smile; and, far from her hearing, 
 and within his, he heard none censure, but many 
 admire, this act of a prodigal girl. 
 
 Whatever she did. Miss Lee was privileged. 
 Wealth, flattery, praise, love, daily wove her a 
 crown, and proclaimed her queen. 
 
 As he was leaving he met her on the staircase. 
 She slowly descended, swayed by the motion of 
 the crowd, between Lily Blount and Gerald Lee. 
 At once she saw him, and, with a smile and a 
 look, she beckoned him to her side. 
 
 '^ Mr. Owen,^^ she said, " you are deserting
 
 GKACE LEE. 231 
 
 me/^ for lie had not availed himself of her last 
 invitation. Without giving him time to answer, 
 she continued ; " remember that the next time I 
 expect youj woe be to you if you fail me ! " 
 
 She passed on, and Mr. Owen, with some 
 disdain, returned the wondering looks of many 
 who could not imagine why he had been so 
 distinguished^
 
 232 GRACE LEE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 There is an old Italian legend, tliat when the 
 sea is calm and fair the Syrens weep. The sky 
 may be without a cloud ; the waters may be 
 smooth and still, yet the Syrens weep, for they 
 know that the storm will come. But joyous and 
 serene as her life, was Grace Lee. For her there 
 seemed no storm, no threatening of evil days 
 lowering behind the cloudless horizon. 
 
 The History of the Church called Doctor 
 Crankey to Rome; but Miss Lee remained be- 
 hind, happy in her luxurious home with her 
 adopted sister. Towards the close of the season 
 she announced her intention to give a last splendid 
 fete, and the prospect of it sufficed to suspend the
 
 GRACE LEE. 233 
 
 tide of emigration in that wide portion of the fash- 
 ionable world to which she belonged. In taste and 
 in splendour it fully surpassed all its predecessors. 
 Nothing so elegant, so artistic, so splendid, so 
 like a dream from the Arabian Nights, had yet 
 been seen. The guests, dazzled and enchanted, 
 declared there was no one like Miss Lee for these 
 things. Never before had she obtained a triumph 
 like this. She enjoyed it as she enjoyed every- 
 thing — completely; and listened with a happy 
 smile, to the blending of genuine admiration and 
 polite flattery, that everywhere reached her ear. 
 
 At length even this ceased. Surfeited with 
 pleasure, the guests departed at the hour when 
 thousands, still weary with the labour of one day, 
 were wakening to the toil and the cares of the 
 next. One after the other the splendid rooms 
 were forsaken. 
 
 John Owen was the last to depart. As he was 
 leaving the solitary boudoir where he had spent 
 the best part of the evening, neither seeking nor
 
 234 GRACE LEE. 
 
 taking pleasure, a hand was lightly laid on his 
 arm, and a clear voice behind him said, 
 
 " Good-night/' 
 
 He turned round and found himself face to 
 face with his hostess. She arrested him in an 
 attitude that was free, familiar, and friendly ; her 
 dark eyes rested on him with kindness in their 
 glance. 
 
 " Good-night,^' she said again ; and her voice 
 was very sweet. " Good-night, and good-bye,'^ 
 she resumed, her hand still on his arm, her 
 eyes still on his face. "You are my country- 
 man, Mr. Owen ; you were my father's friend. 
 I have known you since I was a child, and 
 now that perhaps we may never meet again 
 in this wide world, wonder not if I bid a some- 
 what serious adieu to one whom I have always 
 liked.'' 
 
 " What — are you again going to travel ! " he 
 exclaimed, taken by surprise. 
 
 " Ay, to travel, Mr. Owen — to take my longest
 
 GRACE LEE. 285 
 
 journey : I am going from one world to another. 
 Shall we ever meet again? — 'tis not likely. 
 Therefore, good-night, and good-bye; may hope 
 and success, and all good things, and kind spirit;^, 
 attend you ! " 
 
 He fixed a keen look on her face. Her brow 
 was calm ; her eyes were serene, her lips were 
 smiling ; yet he felt that some meaning lay 
 hidden in all this. '' Good-night will do for 
 the present,''^ he replied ; " the final adieu need 
 not be said yet." 
 
 A deep ardent blush gathered on Miss Lee's 
 dark face ; her eyes looked up to his laughingly 
 and proudly. 
 
 " Good-bye,'^ she said again, with marked 
 emphasis. She turned away, and he stood 
 looking after her with some surprise. 
 
 All the guests were gone. Gerald Lee alone, 
 in compliance with Miss Lee's wish, remained 
 behind. He found her in the large and deserted 
 drawing-room ; she stood by the white marble
 
 236 GKACE LEE. 
 
 mantelpiece, lier bare arm resting on it and 
 supporting her cheek. As he approached she 
 looked up and, with a smile, held out her hand 
 to him j he raised it to his lips with the tender 
 courtesy that always marked his manner to her, 
 and said, in a pleased tone, "You do not look 
 at all tired/' 
 
 Large and clear mirrors alternate with high 
 panels of white and gold, decorated the apart- 
 ment. Grace, her hand still in that of Gerald, 
 cast her look on one of them. It gave back her 
 figure full length, in all its grace of symmetry 
 and splendour of attire. Gerald spoke the truth, 
 when he said she did not look fatigued : never 
 had her eyes shone with more brilliancy, — never 
 had her dusky cheek owned a warmer bloom. 
 
 " I feel wonderfully well and happy this even- 
 ing,'' she said, looking back to Gerald ; " yes, 
 very happy, and not at all fatigued; not so tired 
 as poor little Lily.'' 
 
 On hearing her name. Miss Blount, who sat
 
 GRACE LEE. 237 
 
 on a velvet couch close hj, looked up, and 
 languidly said, " Grace is made of steel, I think. 
 Is she not, Mr. Lee ? " 
 
 '• Never mind what I am made of,'^ answered 
 Grace ; " I have asked Mr. Lee to remain behind 
 to-night, because I must speak to him ; and you, 
 Lily, may as well stay and listen.^^ 
 
 She sat down by the young girl ; and Mr. Lee 
 sat down by her. With a smile she began. 
 
 "Gerald, I like you; you have been a friend 
 to me, — a true friend ; yet I have deprived you 
 of a splendid inheritance, — of a noble fortune. 
 Do not interrupt me. You do not know all. 
 Miss Grace Lee had loved you too much and too 
 long not to regret despoiling you. She made 
 her will in my favour, it is true ; but by a letter 
 written on her deathbed, she enjoined me, should 
 certain circumstances ever come to pass, to share 
 or divide her fortune with you. I burned that 
 letter ; for though I was but seventeen, I knew 
 I could trust to my own honour to obey it : and
 
 238 GRACE LEE. 
 
 now what Miss Lee seemed to have foretold, has 
 happened, and the day when I must surrender 
 my trust has come/' 
 
 She ceased, but looked in vain in Mr. Lee's 
 face for tokens of the surprise she thought to 
 find there. 
 
 '^1 was with Miss Lee when she died/' he 
 replied at length, " I read that letter which she 
 wrote and you burned, but I need scarcely say 
 that her will alone is binding upon you.'' 
 
 ^' In law of course it is," said Grace, with some 
 pride ; '' but we are not talking of law, Mr. Lee, 
 we are talking of honour." 
 
 "Law or honour, what matter? Why seek 
 to divide that which Miss Lee, that which Provi- 
 dence itself, have conspired to unite." 
 
 Grace looked laughing in his face. "My 
 friend," she said, gaily, " seven years ago you 
 were offered a choice between love and beauty 
 on one side, and gold and a plain girl on the 
 other. You took love and beauty, and you did
 
 GRACE LEE. 239 
 
 well. And now 'tis my turn, and I am told 
 to clioose between gold and a good^ handsome 
 husband on one side, and on the other, liberty. 
 Well, Gerald, what love and beauty were to you 
 then, liberty is to me now; that something too 
 sweet to be relinquished ; that desire which at 
 any sacrifice must be fulfilled." 
 
 He gave her a look of quick reproach. 
 
 " Regret not a portionless bride," she resumed ; 
 *' of the large fortune which Miss Lee left, your 
 half alone remains ; mine, I confess it, is gone." 
 
 '^ Gone ! " exclaimed Mr. Lee, evidently taken 
 by surprise. 
 
 " Yes," said Grace, smiling. '^ How did I 
 know you would ever care for me ; and then it 
 was so large a fortune; but it was not inex- 
 haustible, and I drew upon it too largely. Well, 
 I cannot regret it, for I enjoyed it keenly whilst 
 it was mine, and spent more on others than on 
 myself. I know I might have been more prudent, 
 more wise; but what is done, is done. One
 
 2^0 GRACE LEE. 
 
 tiling I ask you to forgive me_, having delayed 
 to tell you this. It was_, excuse the weakness, 
 because I wanted to abdicate — as I had reigned 
 — royally.^^ 
 
 "And so you abdicate," he replied; "you, 
 Miss Lee, who have enjoyed a splendid fortune 
 so nobly." 
 
 "Do not pity me," she interrupted : " when 
 I was a girl in the North, I longed for wealth, 
 splendour, and all that money yields. For two 
 years and more I have had my wish. What 
 pleasure have I not enjoyed ? What place 
 famous or beautiful have I not visited ? What 
 society, high bred, high born, witty, brilliant, 
 and delightful, have I not had at my command ? 
 But do not dream that I now retire like a 
 monarch satiated with power and splendour. 
 No, I leave the world in the fulness of my 
 happiness, — in the strength and freshness of my 
 years." 
 
 " Leave the world ! What do you mean ? "
 
 GRACE LEE. 241 
 
 " Hear me out. My father left me a moderate 
 income, more than sufficient to my wants once 
 I retire to obscurity. Yet a boon I ask from 
 you. Lend me the house, which of all her pos- 
 sessions was alone bequeathed to you by Miss 
 Lee. I shall feel a grateful pleasure in holding 
 myself your guest.'' 
 
 " Surely you do not mean to bury yourself 
 alive ? Surely you will stay in the world you 
 enjoy so much ?" 
 
 " Too much to stay in it ! Monarchs who leave 
 the throne cannot seek too total a change, too 
 deep a solitude. It would never do to stay here, 
 no longer the wealthy, the admired, the 
 worshipped Miss Lee, but plain Miss Lee, poor 
 Miss Lee, forgotten Miss Lee ! No ; I will retire 
 in all my glory. Queen to the last. Again, I say, 
 do not pity me. All is well as it is. I have 
 enjoyed the world ; I leave it before disgust has 
 replaced delight. The gods, it is said, love the 
 young, and solitude loves the happy.''
 
 242 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " But you will feel the change ! " 
 
 " And enjoy it. I am always happy. I never 
 felt a pleasure so keen as this evening : now^ as 
 I speak to you^ I feel quite joyous. Whatever 
 quickens my blood is health and happiness to 
 me. How many are miserable with their money ! 
 "Was I not always happy with mine ? Even so 
 with the quiet life that opens before me. I shall 
 find in it delights, where others only see 
 torments. Besides, I was reared in a wild home, 
 and I know both the terrors and the charms of 
 solitude. Again, I say, do not pity me.'' 
 
 She spoke with flushed cheeks and sparkling 
 eyes. In vain Mr. Lee tried to change her 
 resolve ; Grace had too long thought over it to 
 relinquish it so easily. At length he yielded, yet 
 when she announced her intention to leave for 
 Wales the very next morning, he remonstrated ; 
 but Miss Lee was not moved from her purpose. 
 
 All the time she had spoken, Lily had 
 remained by her silent and still. Now, when
 
 GRACE LEE. 243 
 
 she ceased, Miss Blount suddenly turned towards 
 her sister, and flinging her arms around her 
 neck, burst into tears. 
 
 " What ails you, Lily ? '^ asked Grace, smiling. 
 " If I go and bury myself alive, as Mr. Lee says, 
 do you think I want to bury you with me, or 
 yet to send you back to that stern old Miss 
 Blount, whom you left for me ? No ; I know of 
 a third course. You will stay with Mr. Lee's 
 mother until I recall you.'^ 
 
 " But I do not want to leave you, darling," said 
 Lily, smiling through her tears ; " I want to stay 
 with you." 
 
 "Well, then, Lily, I cannot allow it," gaily, 
 yet seriously, replied Grace. 
 
 Miss Blount, though rather faintly it must be 
 confessed, still entreated to be allowed to ac- 
 company her sister, who very firmly refused, and 
 referred the matter to Gerald Lee. He gave it 
 as his opinion, that it would certainly not be 
 advisable for Miss Blount to go to Wales just 
 
 M 2
 
 24j4» GEACE lee. 
 
 then, and in liis gentlemanly methodical fashion, 
 stated all the reasons for which he entertained 
 this opinion. He concluded with a formal, yet 
 sufficiently cordial assurance of the pleasure Mrs. 
 Gerald Lee would feel to receive Miss Blount in 
 her home and take her under her care. 
 
 *' Well, then, it is decided,'' said Grace, rising, 
 " and, like an actor whose part is done, I may 
 retire from the stage. Ali ! would I had acted 
 my part better, more simply, more humbly, with 
 less display, less thought of the world's praise, for 
 which I confess I have cared too much, little as I 
 did care for its censure. Good-night, Mr. Gerald 
 Lee, think of me in my solitude, think of me, and 
 for my sake, be kind to this young girl." 
 
 She laid her hand on the shoulder of Lily, who 
 again began to weep hysterically, and hid her face 
 on her sister's bosom. 
 
 But Grace, who never wept herself, only smiled 
 and, holding out her hand to Mr. Lee, again 
 bade him good-night.
 
 GRACE LEE. 245 
 
 Gerald Lee was gone. Grace was in her room 
 alone with Lily, who sat quiet and unusually 
 thoughtful in a deep arm chair. Miss Lee stood 
 by her in the act of opening a handsome casket, 
 in which she kept her jewels ; it was bright and 
 sparkling as that of a Queen. She looked at it 
 smiling, "After all,'' she said, "what is dress? 
 one cannot go beyond diamonds." 
 
 Then suddenly turning round she poured the 
 whole contents of the casket into her sister's 
 lap. 
 
 " This is your portion," she said, " for I have 
 been too extravagant, I confess it, my poor little 
 Lily, I have kept you nothing. Would I had 
 more to give." 
 
 "Give me nothing," exclaimed Lily, looking 
 flushed and excited, " I am an ungrateful girl ; I 
 was bom ungrateful — I know it." 
 
 Grace laid her hand on her lips and laughed, 
 and Lily turning her head away wept again. 
 
 " How can you weep so easily," asked Grace,
 
 246 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " I keep my tears for sorrows that crush and 
 conquer me, not for such trials as we are all bori; 
 to bear." 
 
 She went to the window, raised the thick blue 
 damask curtains and looked on the green and 
 silent park beyond. Dawn Was blushing in the 
 sky and the freshness of early morning reposed on 
 everything she saw. She dropped the curtain 
 and turning back to Lily, said quietly, 
 " I shall have lovely weather to-morrow." 
 Miss Blount was still fast asleep, when at 
 an early hour on the following morning, Grace 
 stood in the dining-room ready to go, and 
 bidding a calm adieu to Gerald Lee. To Lily 
 Miss Lee did not want to bid good-bye. She 
 did not even wish the servants to suspect 
 that she was going out for more than the 
 day. Though she had amply provided for them 
 all, she again recommended them to Gerald 
 Lee, then bade him farewell. Her cheerful- 
 ness contrasted with the gravity of his looks.
 
 GRACE LEE. 347 
 
 Silently he gave her his arm, to take her down 
 to the carriage waiting for her below. In the 
 court they found Vagabond and Scamp, ready 
 to take, as usual, their mistress to the park. 
 Vagabond neighed as he recognised her; and 
 Scamp bounded joyously. Grace stepped up to 
 her favourite horse held by the groom, and 
 softly stroked his cheek ; then suddenly turning 
 to Gerald, she said, "Do not sell poor Vagabond; 
 keep him for my sake : — and be kind to Scamp,'' 
 she added, turning round on the step of the 
 carriage to give his rough head a "last caress. 
 
 Before Mr. Lee could reply, the dog had 
 bounded in and crouched under the seat. In 
 vain his mistress tried to coax him out; in 
 vain the groom called and threatened him; 
 he only whined and wagged his tail. 
 
 "Let him stay,'' at length said Grace, "he 
 loves an ungrateful mistress better than she 
 deserves to be loved by him. Scamp shall 
 come with me."
 
 248 GRACE LEE. 
 
 She entered the carriage. Rapidly it drove 
 away from the dwelling where she had led a 
 life so luxurious and so splendid; a life, which 
 like a golden dream, had crossed the life of 
 Grace Lee.
 
 GRACE LEE. 249 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 A YEAR had passed away. 
 
 It had wrought its changes more dark than 
 sunny. Lily Blount was the wife of Gerald 
 Lee. Mr. Lee^s mother was dead; his sister 
 was a widow ; Captain Glawdon had fought a 
 last and fatal duel. His antagonist was John 
 Owen. About that encounter much was said, 
 little was known. The fortunate duellist was 
 held up to execration and scorn. He avenged 
 himself with a book called ^' Timon/' that sold 
 well and read widely; then he vanished into 
 obscurity as deep and as complete as that from 
 which he had arisen. 
 
 The autumn set in early, wet and wild. It 
 
 TO. 8
 
 250 GRACE LEE. 
 
 found Grace Lee in her mountain home, happy 
 though alone; for the History of the Church 
 still kept Doctor Crankey in Rome. Her dis- 
 appearance from its horizon had astounded the 
 London world. For a week no one talked of 
 anything else. Grace was pitied, admired, and 
 blamed; and finally forgotten. 
 
 She too forgot. Gerald and Lily excepted, 
 she corresponded with none. She severed her- 
 self completely from her previous life : she kept 
 it in her memory like a brilliant picture, to 
 look at now and then ; but beyond this she 
 appeared to have no use for it. Lonely, yet 
 not unhappy, she enjoyed solitude as she once 
 had enjoyed the crowd. Seclusion was as plea- 
 sant to her, as ever had been endless variety 
 of scene. Scamp was now the only companion 
 and guardian of walks that rarely extended 
 beyond the limits of her garden. For days 
 and weeks her silent home was not deserted; 
 and her flowers and her books filled the leisure
 
 GRACE LEE. 251 
 
 hours of one to whom for years, with one brief 
 interval, the word leisure had been unknown. 
 She had ' resumed the grave studies of her 
 youth, and an autumn afternoon found her 
 engaged with them as of old. She sat in a 
 parlour with a low window, that looked on the 
 garden bounded by rising hills. A bright fire 
 burned in the grate; on the red carpet a sun- 
 beam, that broke through a cloudy and rainy 
 sky and ghded down the misty mountain side, 
 fell brilliant as living gold. Grace sat in its 
 light by a table near the window. Her elbow 
 rested upon it ; her hand supported her cheek ; 
 her other hand caressed the head of Scamp 
 lying by her : a heavy volume lay open on her 
 lap, one of the Greek Fathers. On a stand 
 opposite her was a small Sevres vase filled with 
 wild flowers 3 the last frail blossoms of pale 
 gold, purple, and azure of the season, gathered 
 by her hand the day before, far in the 
 mountains.
 
 252 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Grace no longer wore the rich silks and bright 
 gems of her former fortunes, but her attire was 
 still tasteful and elegant. Her dark crimson 
 merino fell in graceful folds around her person ; 
 her bracelet of gold Arab coins glittered on her 
 arm ; her sleeves were trimmed with rich lace ; 
 her hair was braided carefully; delicate satin 
 slippers, embroidered with gold, enclosed her feet 
 resting on a velvet cushion ; everything around 
 her bespoke taste, comfort, and ease. 
 
 As she sat thus quietly the door opened, a neat 
 little parlour-maid stepped in, silently laid a 
 letter before her mistress, then withdrew. Grace 
 read the letter with a smile ; it came from Lily 
 Blount, now the wife of Gerald Lee, now en- 
 joying the azure skies, the enchanted shores of 
 
 happy Sorrento. 
 
 The time had been, too, when Grace had re- 
 turned from foreign travels ; the worshipped lady 
 greeted by a thousand glad welcomes, and now 
 she lived alone, and forgotten, in a wild Welsh
 
 GRACE LEE. 253 
 
 home, and another was mistress of all the 
 splendour, homage, and adoration she had re- 
 signed. 
 
 But some, in things little or great, laugh at 
 sorrow, and defy fate ; and Grace only found a 
 secret and proud pleasure in the remembrance of 
 all she had relinquished for love of independence 
 and scorn of a thraldom degrading when it is not 
 that of love, but of Mammon. 
 
 She looked up at the sky. The sun shone 
 brightly in a field of pure azure. The vanquished 
 clouds slowly descended to the v^^est, where, 
 couched on the far horison they lay in wait for 
 his coming. Light mists still floated around the 
 mountains, now gathering in some crevice of the 
 rocks, now spreading away softly like a veil, 
 behind which the sun lit their barren flanks, 
 their verdant slopes, and falling streams. Far 
 below them the garden lay fresh and fragrant. 
 
 Grace suddenly put away her book, went up to 
 her room, and in a few minutes returned dressed
 
 254 GRACE LEE. 
 
 for a walk in the mountains. She found Scamp 
 anxiously waiting for her; with a smile she 
 summoned him to her side ; ere long they had 
 crossed the garden, and entered the mountain 
 desert that enclosed her little Eden. 
 
 A mountain region, howsoever beautiful to 
 look at from afar, is not always pleasant on a 
 nearer view, especially in autumn. The wind 
 then wakens the saddest echoes of the barren- 
 looking rocks j the paths have vanished, washed 
 away by heavy rains ; the streamlets have swollen 
 into torrents ; dark and threatening clouds pass 
 over the peaks and valleys, and seem to guard 
 and forbid their approach; the whole aspect of 
 nature, though grand, is wild and desolate. But 
 Grace, accustomed to a wild life in her youth, 
 feared neither the sadness nor the loneliness of 
 mountain scenery. Where others saw nothing 
 but inaccessible and gloomy caverns, she knew of 
 paths safe and dry that led out into the open 
 country, and to green spots, and to low valleys
 
 GKACE LEE. 255 
 
 where happy summer still lingered. One of 
 these paths she now took. 
 
 It led her down to scenery softer and less 
 grand than that which she could have found 
 higher up. A stream, gently shaded by a few 
 broad trees, flowed through a quiet valley ; here 
 and there scattered on its banks, or climbing the 
 mountain side, rose small thatched dwellings, 
 with their patch of garden. The whole place 
 had a look both pastoral and wild that would 
 have charmed a painter's heart. 
 
 The sun was not near its setting and Grace, to 
 whom this part of the country was little known, 
 resolved for once to explore this valley to its end. 
 She walked on for an hour and, save that the 
 dwellings became fewer, then vanished altogether, 
 she still seemed to pass through the same 
 scenery. An abrupt turning at length brought a 
 change, both complete and sudden. 
 
 The open and sunlit valley had become a 
 dark and narrow gorge, lying between two steep
 
 256 GRACE LEE. 
 
 mountains, clothed with pines, from their summit 
 to their very base, and washed by the rapid and 
 foaming waters of a sullen looking torrent. Its 
 rushing noise and the shrill scream of a bird in 
 the air above were the only sounds that disturbed 
 the silence of the spot. Still better pleased with 
 its savage beauty than with the smiling scenes 
 she had left behind, Grace sat down on a frag- 
 ment and enjoyed her solitude. Some time 
 elapsed before she perceived that it was not so 
 complete as she had at first imagined. 
 
 High on a projecting crag rose a tall and 
 narrow house, something between a modem 
 dwelling and an ancient ruin. A wild garden 
 badly fenced in, straggled down around it and 
 -enclosed it on every side; but the gate was 
 broken, and the doors-teps were worn and moss 
 covered, the wooden door itself looked frail 
 and disjointed; and part of the roof had been 
 laid bare by some treacherous mountain gust. 
 
 It stood there isolated and exposed to every
 
 GRACE LEE. 257 
 
 blast, like a watch tower of old, midway between 
 the brown mountains and the white torrent ; 
 threatened by the one, sapped by the other, yet 
 still, spite of time and many a storm, bearing a 
 stern front in its decay. 
 
 The sun was now setting ; Grace faced the west, 
 she saw its last rays glide down the heights that 
 closed the valley and light with a glow more 
 lurid, than warm, the walls of the house. Gra- 
 dually even this faded away ; the sky became of 
 a dark and cloudy grey, and the mountains 
 shrouding themselves into soft mists, took that 
 tint of intense and exquisite blue which they 
 wear in evening. Scamp whined impatiently, and 
 his mistress took the hint, by rising to turn 
 homewards. She had scarcely gone three steps 
 when a low deep sound caught her ear. She 
 walked on without heeding it, but soon stopped 
 short, a white flash had crossed the sky and a few 
 heavy drops of rain came borne by the wind 
 against her face ; then there broke another and
 
 258 GRACE LEE. 
 
 a louder peal, answered by every rocky cliff in the 
 whole valley. A storm was beginning, a storm in 
 the mountains; a grand sight, which Grace had 
 often enjoyed, but never before without the 
 shelter of a roof. Awhile she stood still, 
 hesitating between the house near her and the 
 more distant hamlet; the sky was intensely 
 dark; the torrent flowed beneath it white and 
 angry; pale mists swiftly descended the moun- 
 tain side like evil spirits hastening to the con- 
 flict; the rain began to fall heavily, with it all 
 hesitation vanished ; Grace hastened up the path 
 above which stood the solitary dwelling; she 
 crossed the garden and knocked at the door, 
 which unexpectedly yielded to her touch. 
 
 It admitted her to a room something between a 
 kitchen and a parlour. A large deal-wood table 
 occupied the centre; a few rude chairs stood 
 against the walls ; a Dutch clock ticked behind 
 the door, and an ardent fire burned on the wide 
 hearth, by which an elderly woman of grotesque
 
 GRACE LEE. 259 
 
 Ugliness sat sewing, or rather mending some male 
 garment. As Grace stood on the threshold, not 
 knowing whether to enter or retire, Scamp de- 
 cided the question by uttering a low growl, which 
 ended in a short sharp bark. 
 
 " Lawk a mercy ! " with a start, exclaimed the 
 old lady, of whom Grace now noticed that she had 
 neither the speech nor attire of a native Welsh 
 woman ; an unmistakeable Cockney accent cha- 
 racterised the former, and a certain city neatness 
 the latter. 
 
 " Down, sir,'^ said Grrace to Scamp, who drop- 
 ped his ears and wagged his tail ; then pushing 
 the door more widely open, she stepped in, and 
 with an apology explained the cause of her in- 
 trusion. 
 
 " Don't mention it, ma'am,'' civilly replied the 
 old lady, whose attire and manner bespoke some- 
 thing between h ousekeeper and a servant; 
 " pray walk in, ma'am, and take a seat. This is 
 awful weather, as you say, and I am sure if my
 
 260 GRACE LEE. 
 
 dear young gentleman were at home, he would 
 make you very welcome, and the little doggie 
 too ; pretty dear.'^ 
 
 " The little doggie ! " nowise soothed by this 
 compliment, entered with a subdued growl, and 
 with a watchful glance lay down by his mistress. 
 Grace drew a seat near the hearth, and un- 
 fastened and shook her cloak, which her hos- 
 tess officiously took from her and hung up to 
 dry. 
 
 " Only think, ma'am, you are nearly wet 
 through; do take off your bonnet ; pray 
 make yourself at home; my young gentleman 
 won't be in just yet, and even if he were to 
 come in, I am sure he would only be too happy 
 to receive a lady ! Lawk a mercy, what a flash ! 
 If my poor young gentleman is out in them 
 mountains he'll get wet to the skin, poor dear ! 
 and he is so delicate — a mere gossamer.^' 
 
 She sat down with an air of concern. Grace 
 repressed a smile, suggested, not by her uneasi-
 
 GRACE LEE. 261 
 
 ness, but by the comparison in which it had 
 pleased her fancy to express it. 
 
 " Do you like Wales, ma'am ? " was the next 
 and somewhat abrupt remark of her hostess. 
 
 " Yes/' replied Grace, " don't you ? " 
 
 " I can't say I do to live in/' was the qualified 
 reply. "If it were not for my dear young 
 gentleman I don't think I could stay here 
 twenty-four hours." 
 
 " Then you stay for his sake ? " 
 
 "Why yes, ma'am, what would the poor 
 dear do without me ? He is as simple as a 
 child, ma'am, and the sweetest temper ? There 
 never was such a blessing to all Wales as when 
 he came to settle in it." 
 
 " And was that long ago ? " asked Grace ; 
 who began to feel inquisitive about this paragon 
 of goodness and perfection. 
 
 " Just upon a week, ma'am. The very day 
 he came, he cured a poor woman of the fever; 
 before yesterday he set a broken arm, and to-day
 
 262 GRACE LEE. 
 
 he is gone througli wet and wind to see a poor 
 consumptive creature/' 
 
 " Is lie a physician then ? " 
 
 ' ' No a' am^ he is not a physician ; he is 
 what / call a great deal better — a surgeon. 
 Do you think the people about here are likely 
 to pay well ? Not that I mean to say my young 
 gentleman is not a great deal above depending 
 on anything of the sort. Still it might be a 
 consideration, you know/' 
 
 That it might be a very important one Grace 
 saw readily enough from the choice of the 
 surgeon's dwelling, and the bare and poverty- 
 stricken aspect of everything around her. Her 
 reply was vague and doubtful. This was a 
 matter she said that depended entirely on the 
 class of people with whom the surgeon had 
 to deal. 
 
 " Ah ! I see, I see ! " sagaciously said the 
 old lady, and she looked rather thoughtfully 
 at the fire, with her work lying idly on her lap.
 
 GRACE LEE. 263 
 
 From this fit of abstraction she suddenly woke 
 up to observe, as she saw Grace looking at her 
 cloak : 
 
 " It is not dry yet, ma'am, and the storm 
 is not over ; pray don't think of going ! My 
 young gentleman will not be in for hours, and 
 as I said, he would only be too happy to receive 
 a lady. But will you take nothing ? — you must 
 be thirsty after your long walk." 
 
 In vain Miss Lee assured her that she wanted 
 for nothing; her hostess was determined on 
 being hospitable, and left the room to produce 
 some exquisite elder wine of her own making. 
 
 Grace remained alone rather amused at her 
 position. Here she was intruding her feminine 
 presence on the bachelor establishment of a 
 young and gallant surgeon new to the neigh- 
 bourhood. There seemed, moreover, no means 
 of departing for some time. The thunder still 
 pealed amongst the mountains, and the sound 
 of the falling rain blended with that of the
 
 264 GRACE LEE. 
 
 torrent that rushed past the house. Grace 
 loved those wild sounds mingling vaguely around 
 that wild home. She listened to them in a 
 dreamy mood ; sitting close to the fire with her 
 feet on the low iron fender, one of her hands 
 supporting her bare head. An unexpected 
 sound, that of the opening door, suddenly 
 roused her from her reverie and caused her to 
 look round.
 
 GRACE LEE. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN stood Oil thc threshold looking 
 at her with evident surprise. The light came 
 from behind him and fell on her face; he saw 
 her, but she could not see him. 
 
 ''Miss Lee ! ^^ he exclaimed, entering. Scamp 
 rose and wagged his tail with friendly welcome, 
 aud, with a start, Grace recognised the voice, and 
 as he approached, the features and bearing of 
 John Owen. 
 
 '' Mr. Owen," she said, rising quietly. " Ah ! 
 how are you to-day?'^ 
 
 She held out her hand to him as if they had 
 met the week before. 
 
 '^ To-day," he echoed, taking her hand;
 
 GRACE LEE. 
 
 *'how many days is it since we last met, Miss 
 Lee?^^ 
 
 " Really, I do not know : four hundred odd 
 I dare say. What matter ; you know, or perhaps 
 you do not know, that I do not believe in Time. 
 Do you ? '' 
 
 " I cannot help myself; I must believe in it. 
 And how have you been since those four hun- 
 dred days odd ? " 
 
 '^Well: and you?'' 
 
 " Well, too, thank you ; though somewhat wet 
 just now.'' 
 
 He was wet even to the dark hair that 
 clung to his cheek and brow. He shook 
 his head impatiently, took off his cloak, 
 hung it up by that of Grace, then sat down, 
 like her, by the hearth. For the first time 
 it struck Miss Lee that John Owen was no 
 other than the fascinating young surgeon, 
 master of the house in which she had taken 
 shelter.
 
 GRACE LEE. 267 
 
 " Mr. Owen," she said, suddenly ; " can you 
 give me some information ? " 
 
 " That depends on the nature of the informa- 
 tion/^ he replied, looking up with a smile. 
 
 " In whose house am I ? " 
 
 " In mine, for the present." 
 
 Grace smiled, too, as she looked at him ; a dark 
 forbidding man, and remembered he was also the 
 '' dear young gentleman." He continued : 
 
 " You did not know it ? " 
 
 " Noj I came in driven by the storm, and 
 found a most hospitable reception." 
 
 *' Yes, Mrs. Skelton is very kind, and here she 
 is." As he spoke the housekeeper entered, 
 bearing on a tray the bottle of elder wine, and 
 a plate, with a glass and a biscuit. 
 
 " Lawk a mercy ! " she began, on seeing Mr. 
 Owen. 
 
 " Don^t mention it," he interrupted im- 
 patiently; "wet never kills. What are you 
 bringing us ? Elder wine ! rank poison ! Do 
 
 N 2
 
 268 GRACE LEE. 
 
 not touch it, Miss Lee ; I have some port from 
 Mr. Hanley^s own cellar, which I brought down 
 here to drink his health with, and you shall 
 try it." 
 
 He opened a cupboard, brought forth a bottle, 
 and filled the glass of Grace. She took it, 
 amused at the half offended look of Mrs. Skelton. 
 
 " I like wine," she said ; '' it reminds me of 
 the sun, of vineyards, of festoons of luscious 
 grapes running from tree to tree, and of merry 
 brown southern faces alive with life and light." 
 
 '' And it reminds me," morosely replied John 
 Owen, " of the luxurious tables of the rich ; of 
 after-dinner jests, loud and vacant; of hoarse 
 laughter, sickening imbecility; of faces flushed 
 with excess ; of sounds that deafen the brain, 
 and of glaring lights that weary the eyes." 
 
 Grace smiled and drank quietly, then spoke no 
 more, but glanced furtively at her host. He sat 
 opposite her in a bending attitude ; the light of 
 the flame played on his swarthy face ; it looked
 
 GRACE LEE. 269 
 
 darker and more forbidding than ever. The 
 brow now seemed habitually knit, and the mouth 
 sarcastic. '' Timon, indeed/' thought Grace. 
 
 Timon made no sort of effort to entertain her. 
 He left her to Mrs. Skelton, who sat a little in 
 the background, and was as voluble as he was 
 silent. She chose the fertile theme of his virtues 
 and perfections, and did not seem to consider his 
 presence any objection. For some time he did 
 not appear to mind her ; but Mrs. Skelton, like 
 the lover who left his mistress to write to her, 
 happening, in her pleasure of talking about him 
 to forget that he was by, and to designate him 
 two or three times as her dear young gentleman, 
 deploring, in the same breath, the delicacy of his 
 health and general tenderness of his nature, he 
 raised his head with a calm amazement that nearly 
 disconcerted the gravity of Grace. Then, like 
 Neptune looking above the ocean, when his 
 domain had been invaded by Eolus, with a word 
 he checked this unloosening of speech.
 
 270 GRACE LEE. 
 
 ''Mrs. Skelton/^ he said, rather grandly, " can 
 we have tea, if you please ? ^^ 
 
 " To be sure, sir,^^ she replied, rising at once 
 to prepare the meal. 
 
 Satisfied with this he relapsed into his previous 
 attitude and silence. In less than a quarter of 
 an hour the tea was made and poured out, and 
 the table placed between John Owen and his 
 guest. He was as silent during the meal 
 as before it; when it was over, Grace rose 
 to go. 
 
 ''The storm is over,^' she said, "and I think 
 I can now return to my own home.^^ 
 
 " And there is nothing in this sorry dwelling 
 to make me press you to stay longer,^^ he replied, 
 rising too. 
 
 He took down his hat, Grace put on her 
 bonnet and cloak, whilst Mrs. Skelton emitted 
 doubts on the wisdom of departing as yet. The 
 event proved the correctness of her conjectures. 
 As Mr. Owen and his guest stood on the
 
 GRACE LEE. 271 
 
 threshold of the open door, they paused 
 involuntarily. 
 
 The storm was over; the moon shone dimly 
 in a clouded sky ; the mists that slept on the 
 opposite mountains looked chill and gray in her 
 cold light; bright and glancing the torrent 
 flowed in the gloom of the valley below; but 
 there was an unusual fullness in its sound that 
 at once caught the ear of John Owen. He 
 stepped out ; a look showed him all. Wherever 
 his eye fell water flowed ; the mountain stream 
 had overrun its banks, and everywhere broke 
 around the projecting crag on which rose his 
 dwelling ; one spot alone remained free ; the 
 steep and pathless mountain behind. Grace 
 had followed him out, and with a dismayed 
 glance saw all this. 
 
 " There is no help for it/^ at length said her 
 host, "you must stay here to-night. Miss Lee, 
 and accept of Mrs. Skelton's room.'* 
 
 "I suppose so,** she quietly replied, and,
 
 272 GRACE LEE. 
 
 submitting patiently to a disagreeable necessity, 
 she re-entered the house, took off her bonnet 
 and cloak, and resumed her seat by the fire-side. 
 John Owen too put by his hat and went back 
 to his place; Scamp, as if he understood it all, 
 stretched himself at full length between them, 
 and basking in the light of the fire, fell fast 
 asleep. Mrs. Skelton, after exhausting every 
 adjective of regret and condolence, imitated 
 his example, and nodded over her work. Her 
 quiet figure in the back-ground did not break 
 on the tete-a-tete of the two who sat by the 
 ardent fire, with the lamp burning between 
 them. At first both were silent; then John 
 Owen, giving his sleeping housekeeper an im- 
 patient glance, but feeling himself bound by 
 the laws of hospitality to do or say something, 
 looked up at Grace and suddenly opened the 
 conversation. " And so. Miss Lee," he said, 
 " you are again paying a visit to Wales ? ^* 
 " No*— I am not on a visit : I live here.'*
 
 GRACE LEE. 278 
 
 " Ah ! indeed," and he looked surprised, " I 
 thought/* he resumed, " your tastes were essen- 
 tially wandering/' 
 
 "They were so once, but now I sit down in 
 peace by the domestic hearth, and traveller-like 
 think it pleasant to remember the lands I have 
 visited, and to see again with the mind's eye 
 the pictures, of which the living reality once 
 charmed me, and I live a quiet life in the house 
 that once belonged to the late Miss Lee/' 
 
 He looked at her keenly. He sought in her 
 eyes and on her brow the signs of wounded love 
 or mortified pride ; but no heart sorrow, no bitter 
 and corroding thought had there left their traces. 
 There w^s a pause ; he broke it by saying, " And 
 so. Miss Lee, this is now your destiny ! Not two 
 years ago we met here in Wales. You were rich 
 and lived in a tumult of pleasure j I was poor, 
 but ambitious, and richer than you in hope. We 
 left within the same week; you to spend your 
 fortune, I to win mine. And now Time has 
 
 N 3
 
 274 GRACE LEE. 
 
 brought us back^ children of the same soil, to our 
 mountains, and finds you as wearied of pleasure 
 as I am wearied of ambition.^' 
 
 " No, I cannot say that/' replied Grace j '' I 
 was not at all wearied of pleasure." 
 
 " Then what a dreary change ! For one accus- 
 tomed to wealth, to luxury, to endless adulation, 
 to find herself thus almost poor, and entirely 
 deserted. How you must hate it, Miss Lee ! " 
 
 "No, I cannot say that either." 
 
 "Do you like it, then?" he asked, with a 
 look that seemed to tell her, "you may try to 
 deceive me, but I warn you, it is useless." 
 
 The warning was not seen or heeded by Grace. 
 Without answering his question she looked at the 
 fire and smiled, more to herself than to him. 
 
 " I was reared a poor girl," she said at length ; 
 " my father loved me, but he was what is called 
 near; he bought my frocks himself, and they 
 were neither many nor splendid. I remember 
 a pink gingham that nearly sent me mad with
 
 GRACE LEE. 275 
 
 joy, for I confess it, I have always been too fond 
 of dress. When he died and I went to the North 
 and lived in a place not quite so picturesque, but 
 nearly as wild as this, between an old priest and 
 his cousin, who always thought me too fine, I was 
 still worse off. I was scarcely smarter than a 
 cottage girl, yet I was very happy. When I 
 became so suddenly rich, and had more pocket- 
 money, even as a minor, than I have now of 
 entire income, I bought everything I set my 
 'eyes on, and thought I never had enough; but 
 since that fortune has left me, I have fallen quite 
 naturally into the old way, and I whose dresses 
 were said to outnumber those of any woman in 
 England, am now quite satisfied with such toilet 
 as I can afford. And with other things it is as 
 with this ; — everything around me is changed, 
 yet I am happy .^^ 
 
 " Philosophy ! " observed John Owen, a little 
 ironically. 
 
 " Not a bit of it,'^ she replied ; " temperament.
 
 276 GRACE LEE. 
 
 no more. My temper has always led me to be 
 happy ; and I am so, perhaps, because I make no 
 effort to succeed. I read, I tend my flowers, I 
 work, I take long walks, and thus life passes 
 pleasantly.*^ 
 
 " And you see no one ? '* 
 
 '' No one.*' 
 
 " Yet you were fond of society, of pleasure, of 
 travelling.** 
 
 "Well; and have I not had more than my 
 share of them all ? ** 
 
 "Your solitude must be oppressive.** 
 
 She laughed gaily at the idea. 
 
 "Truly you have a happy temper.** 
 
 *' Mr. Owen,** said Grace, throwing back her 
 head a little, " that is not all ; I would scorn to 
 be conquered by anything mortal. When God' 
 lays his hand on me I submit. All else I 
 defy.** 
 
 She spoke with a warm flush on her cheek; 
 with truth in her eyes and frankness in her very
 
 GRACE LEE. 277 
 
 tone. He looked at her with something between 
 admiration and envy in his gaze ; he, too, defied 
 everything mortal, but not quite in a mood so 
 open and so free as this once spoiled child of 
 fortune. 
 
 • "And so/' suddenly said Grace, in her turn 
 assuming the lead in the conversation, " and so 
 you too, Mr. Owen, are settled here. How do 
 you like it ? '' 
 
 " I am like you — I like anything." 
 
 " No, Mr. Owen, I do not like anything ; but 
 I bear anything. How can you, a man of talent 
 and energy, like being buried in this wilderness V* 
 
 "Because the peopled world gave me no 
 opening, or none such as a man of honour could 
 pursue. Better a desert with its silence and 
 solitude." 
 
 " Are you happy ? " . 
 
 "I never looked for happiness, but for that 
 which I never could win — victory.'' 
 
 Grace looked at him, — their eyes met ; he
 
 278 GRACE LEE. 
 
 smiled; the smile of a still defiant, thougli van- 
 quished man. 
 
 " Yes," she said, ^^ you have been conquered, 
 and I have read your ' Timon.' It is a bad book, 
 Mr. Owen ; cynical, misanthropic, cruel, full of 
 slanders on human nature, and with but one 
 redeeming virtue — its marvellous eloquence." 
 
 '^ You know how to mingle gall and sweetness, 
 Miss Lee." 
 
 " You may smile, Mr. Owen ; I know that in 
 what I have said, you liked the gall and not the 
 sweetness. You did not write that book to get 
 praise, but to inflict a sting. You threw down 
 a glove of defiance, and when it was picked up, 
 and you got insult for insult and scorn for scorn, 
 you felt glad, for you knew the sting had gone 
 home." 
 
 "And pray how do you know all this?" he 
 asked, somewhat surprised. 
 
 " Easily enough ; if there had been but two 
 or three grains more of hemlock or night-
 
 GEACE LEE. 279 
 
 shade in my temper, I should have felt just like 
 
 you." 
 
 " Hemlock and nightshade, — thank you, Miss 
 Lee." 
 
 " You need not, you are welcome." 
 < " I wonder," he said, looking up at her fixedly, 
 " I wonder how it is, Miss Lee, we seem unable 
 to meet without quarrelling. I shelter you this 
 evening beneath my roof, a belated traveller; we 
 begin quietly enough, and you end by telling me 
 that I am made up of hemlock and nightshade ! " 
 
 She laughed, but said, without replying, " Mr. 
 Owen, your fire is nearly out, your housekeeper 
 is fast asleep, your lamp is burning low, and your 
 guest is. getting faint with this long vigil." 
 
 He called Mrs. Skelton, who woke with an 
 apologetic start, and at once showed Miss Lee 
 up to the room they were to share for the night. 
 
 When the housekeeper came down the next 
 morning, she found her master already below ; 
 he stood at the open door looking on the high
 
 280 GRACE LEE. 
 
 waters that still shut in his dwelling. On hearing 
 Mrs. Skelton he turned from the view with an 
 impatient look and a clouded brow. 
 
 " The poor young lady will not be able to go 
 to-day yet, sir/^ suggested Mrs. Skelton, whilst 
 lighting the fire. 
 
 " Miss Lee is not so very young,**" sharply 
 replied Mr. Owen, to whom the idea of having 
 " a young lady '' thus fastened upon him was 
 highly distasteful. 
 
 " I don't think she is old either," a little tartly 
 returned Mrs. Skelton, " but young or old she is 
 a dear creature. Not pretty, perhaps, but a great 
 deal better : a real lady without a bit of pride." 
 
 " Is she up ? '^ 
 
 " She is not awake yet," was the evasive 
 answer. 
 
 '^Mrs. Skelton," said Owen, stopping short 
 before her, ^^ where did Miss Lee sleep last 
 night ? " 
 
 Dead silence.
 
 GRACE LEE. 281 
 
 " I confess/' he continued, looking displeased, 
 " poor as this place is in accommodation, I did 
 not expect the sight which met my eyes this 
 morning : as I came down stairs, I saw through 
 your room-door, which you had inadvertently left 
 open, Miss Lee dressed and fast asleep in an old 
 arm-chair. Now '^ 
 
 " Indeed, sir,'' deprecatingly interrupted Mrs. 
 Skelton, '^I could not help it. She is a very 
 nice lady, but surely she has been used to have 
 her way. Once she got out of me that I had 
 rheumatic pains, all I could say or do would not 
 make her take my bed, which, to say the truth, 
 was never meant for two. She said she was 
 young and strong, and that it would be an 
 adventure for her to sleep in a chair. I told her 
 you would be vexed ; she laughed and replied, 
 she was not afraid of you, and bade me not tell. 
 In short, she would have her way. So she just 
 took out her pins, — shook down her beautiful 
 hair, — I wanted to lend her one of my frilled
 
 283 GRACE LEE. 
 
 nightcaps, but it seems slie never wears any, — 
 tlien wrapped herself up in her cloak, sat down 
 with that big dog of hers at her feet, laid her 
 head back, and in five minutes was as soundly 
 asleep as a child ; and there she is sleeping still, 
 I'll be bound." 
 
 "No, Mrs. Skelton, I am awake now, if you 
 please," said the voice of Grace, entering the 
 room, followed by Scamp. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, ma^am," said Mrs. 
 Skelton, a little confused. 
 
 "For having said that I was still asleep, — I 
 grant it freely. Mr. Owen, have the charity to 
 tell me if there will be any getting away to-day 
 out of your Noah^s ark ! To me the waters 
 of the deluge still seem to flow high and 
 threatening." 
 
 " Noah's ark has proved but a sorry sleeping- 
 place for you, Miss Lee." 
 
 "Now good Mr. Noah, do not look so put 
 out; on my honour I never slept better: but.
 
 GRACE LEE. 283 
 
 seriously, do you tliiuk this stone ark of yours 
 solid ?^^ 
 
 ''It will last longer than either you or I, — 
 provided some rock fall not on it from above." 
 
 " I do not fear rocks just now. All my dread 
 is of water. Surely that perverse little stream 
 must end by going away." 
 
 His reply was ambiguous. There was no 
 accounting for the caprices of mountain streams ; 
 this one might flow back in its bed in a few hours_, 
 or it might remain thus a few days. Grace at 
 first looked blank, but soon rallying, asked if 
 the ark were victualled ? Her host turned to his 
 housekeeper, who looked up from the fire-place 
 to reply, by reckoning categorically on her fingers. 
 
 " In the first place we have got plenty of tea." 
 
 " And water, ditto," suggested Grace ; " so 
 far good." 
 
 '' Secondly, a little sugar." 
 
 '' Better a little, than none," wisely said Miss 
 Lee. '' Any milk, Mrs. Skelton ? "
 
 9M GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Not a drop of milk or cream in the wide 
 world/' replied Mrs. Skelton, emphatically raising 
 both her hands. 
 
 " If some stray goat would only pay us a visit. 
 Bah ! what matter ; one can do without milk at 
 a pinch. Any bread, Mrs. Skelton ? " 
 
 " Half a loaf, ma'am, but plenty of flour.'' 
 
 "And an oven for baking, — I see it. What 
 else?" 
 
 Mrs. Skelton coughed and looked ashamed. 
 
 " To-morrow is market-day," she began, " and 
 not having any idea how that tricksy water was 
 going to serve us out " 
 
 " You had laid in no provisions — naturally." 
 
 " You have come to a splendid household. Miss 
 Lee," said John Owen, looking not ashamed, but 
 galled at this exposure of his poverty, "magnificent 
 is the hospitality you receive ! Not even a bed 
 to sleep in — not even a meal to eat ! " 
 
 He laughed, and Grace echoed the sound with 
 a light mocking laugh, as pleasant as his was
 
 GRACE LEE. 285 
 
 bitter. He looked up at her, reddening and 
 irritated. The smile of her laugh was still 
 playing on her features like the last ripple of a 
 
 breaking wave. 
 
 " Come/' she resumed gaily, " I see poor Scamp, 
 with his robust canine appetite, is likely to prove 
 a troublesome guest; so he must needs act the 
 part of dove. Scamp ! " 
 
 The Newfoundland, who was lying gravely 
 on the hearth, rose at the voice of his mistress. 
 She sat down, tore a leaf out of her pocket-book, 
 wrote a few words on it with her pencil-case, 
 twisted the paper, and fastened it securely under 
 the collar of Scamp. She took care to inform 
 him it was for Phoebe her maid, and for no one 
 else ; he heard her with a sagacious air, then, 
 when she beckoned to him, he followed her out, 
 already half understanding his mission. On 
 the door-steps Grace paused. The morning 
 was soft and stormy, with a clouded sky; 
 everywhere heavy mists limited the horizon.
 
 2S6 GRACE LEE. 
 
 Below Miss Lee the water rushed with a deep 
 and sullen sound, and soon vanished, hidden in 
 the low clouds which filled the bottom of the 
 valley. She looked wistfully at the white and 
 foaming stream, then at Scamp, and laid her 
 hand on his head with evident reluctance. At 
 length she took a sudden resolve, stooped, gave 
 his rough head a hasty kiss, and with the word 
 "Home,^^ sent him on his errand. Scamp 
 deliberately shook himself, walked down to the 
 water's edge, plunged in, and gravely swam down 
 the stream. The gaze of his mistress followed 
 him until he was out of sight, then with a sigh of 
 relief, she re-entered the house; on the threshold 
 she found her host. 
 
 " I envy you that noble creature,^' he said with 
 some warmth. 
 
 "Do you! then when I part from Scamp 
 you shall have him. You do not think 
 there is any danger for him, do you?'-* she 
 added, giving another look at the foamy track
 
 GRACE LEE. 287 
 
 along wliich her faithful Newfoundland had 
 vanished. 
 
 " Certainly not, if one may judge by the cool 
 and easy style in which he took his departure. 
 Besides the stream is sure to become smoother as 
 he goes down.'^ 
 
 " Heaven have mercy on us ! " solemnly 
 ejaculated the voice of Mrs. Skelton from within. 
 They looked, and saw her standing the picture 
 of grief and dismay before the open cupboard. 
 Melancholy to relate ! her half loaf had during 
 the night become the prey of foraging mice. 
 The sight of this calamity at first quite overcame 
 her; but soon rallying : — 
 
 " ni get a cat ! ^^ she exclaimed in great wrath. 
 " 1^11 get a cat ! the nasty little vermin shall not 
 have it all their own way." 
 
 The breakfast was then reduced to tea, with 
 little sugar and no milk. 
 
 " Well, Miss Lee," said John Owen, casting an 
 ironical look at the empty board, " what do you
 
 288 GEACE LEE. 
 
 say to this meal ? Surely it offers you tlie cliarm 
 of novelty ! What a breakfast for a lady who has 
 had the pink and flower of French cooks ; who 
 has fed on the most luxurious fare of every 
 land: bad tea to drink and nothing to eat.'' 
 
 " I do not care," independently replied Grace ; 
 " I feel above eating just now. I have a fancy 
 that it must be something excessively vulgar. 
 So^ Mr. Owen, please not to lavish any of your 
 pity upon me. It is not needed. '^ 
 
 And allowing Mrs. Skelton to lament this 
 unfortunate event, to abuse the water for shutting 
 them in, and the mice for eating the bread, Miss 
 Lee quietly drank her tea and looked as she said, 
 "above eating." The meal over,— it did not 
 take long to despatch, — she suddenly vanished 
 with Mrs. Skelton. Soon the sound of their 
 two voices, one clear and pleasant as youth, the 
 other harsh and unsteady as age, reached Mr. 
 Owen from a dilapidated pantry behind the house. 
 In going up stairs he caught a glimpse of them ;
 
 GRACE LEE. 289 
 
 thev were both deep in flour and dough ; Mrs. 
 Skelton was imparting precepts in the art of 
 bread-making, which Grace — a white apron on, 
 her sleeves tucked up, and her handsome arms 
 bare and free — was reducing into practice. She 
 looked merry and amused with her novel task. 
 
 Glad to find that his guest had disposed of 
 herself so as not to tax his politeness too far, so 
 as not to render hospitalitj^ a bore and a burden, 
 Timon retreated to a wide den-like room on the 
 first floor, where it was his wont to retire to the 
 company he best loved, that of his own thoughts ; 
 thoughts too gloomy and bitter, but all the more 
 congenial to his habitual mood. 
 
 There was a window that overlooked the valle}^ ; 
 it commanded a view, grand and dreary, of barren 
 heights and rushing waters. He stood watching 
 them, as sullen and discontented with his fate as 
 they seemed to be with their rocky bed. A 
 disappointed ambitious man never yet made a 
 genuine misanthrope. John Owen hated the 
 
 TOL, I.
 
 290 GRACE LEE. 
 
 world, but not the world^s prizes ; his scorn did 
 not reach them ; and whilst a longing and a wish 
 remained^ what could solitude be but a ceaseless 
 torment. He stood as Ave said by the window, 
 his elbow resting on its bar, his brow on his 
 hand, his gaze diving down the valley, seeking 
 nothing, and pleased with nothing that it rested 
 on. Yet it watched abstractedly at first, atten- 
 tively in the end, a black speck slowly coming up 
 the stream and seen for some time through mists, 
 then more near and distinct. 
 
 It was a boat manned by two men ; he guessed 
 their errand, and went down to prepare Grace for 
 her liberation. 
 
 He found her in the kitchen parlour kneeling 
 on the floor by the fire, watching the baking of a 
 small round cake in its hot ashes, and absorbed, 
 in the task. 
 
 " Miss Lee,^^ he said, "I bring welcome tidings; 
 the starving garrison is relieved; a boat is coming 
 to bear you away from your dreary prison-house.^^
 
 GRACE LEE. 291 
 
 "Scamp is safe ! ^^ were lier first words; "and 
 so they are coming for me ! I was getting used 
 to this Noah^s ark — to this being shut out from 
 the world and feeling thrown on one^s own 
 resources. Now it seems I must go back to civi- 
 lisation ! And my cake is not quite baked, 
 though getting of a rich brown hue, most tempt- 
 ing to the eye. Well I had always heard that 
 life is made up of disappointments. Are they 
 near, I wonder ! " 
 
 "Fll go and see, ma'am,^^ officiously said 
 Mrs. Skelton. 
 
 She left the house, stayed a while away, then 
 came back with the tidings that the boat was 
 really come for Miss Lee. Grace half sighed ; 
 she looked reluctant to depart, and did not care 
 to hide it ; she rose, however, put on her bonnet 
 and cloak, and stepped out. Yes, there lay the 
 boat quietly waiting for her at the foot of the 
 crag,' with her two rowers resting from their 
 
 toil. 
 
 o 2
 
 292 GRACE LEE. 
 
 " Do YOU stay in the citadel, or will you leave 
 it awhile ? '' asked Grace, turning to her host. 
 
 "Thank you/' he carelessly replied; "I feel 
 well here, and nothing calls me out.^^ 
 
 " Stay, then, in your island. Thanks for your 
 hospitality. Mrs. Skelton, I fancy my cake is 
 burning.^^ 
 
 "Bless you no, ma'am; shall I send it to 
 
 you?- 
 
 " No, eat it hot for my sake.- 
 
 She kissed her, gave her hand to Mr. Owen, 
 and with his aid stepped into the boat, which at 
 once shot swiftlv down the stream.
 
 GRACE LEE. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 John Owen watched the boat until it was ou 
 of sight, then re-entered the house. He sal 
 down by the fire-side, not sorry to find his homt 
 again his own. Everything in his late guest 
 suggested lessons against Avhich his pride rebelled. 
 Her hopeful cheerfulness was like the living 
 and embodied reproach of his discouraged and 
 bitter mood. She had forsaken the brightest 
 realities of life, and she seemed to deride sorrow. 
 Wealth, the world^s incense, love perhaps, had 
 passed from her, and still she smiled like one 
 whom fate could not reach. Change of fortune 
 had not changed her. If he had found her 
 depressed, if he had detected in her manner a
 
 294 GRACE LEE. 
 
 whit more humility and less pride, John Owen 
 would have despised her as one whom the loss or 
 gain of money could move ; but seeing her 
 unaltered, he felt compelled, according to his 
 estimate of men and women, to respect and 
 admire Grace Lee as one above both her sex 
 and her kind, as one whose heart fate could not 
 conquer, whose pride fortune could not humble. 
 He was too much absorbed in these thoughts to 
 notice some very suspicious feminine proceedings 
 then going on under his eyes. Grace, in her 
 message home had inserted a liberal order for 
 provisions, which the boat had brought and the 
 boatmen duly delivered to Mrs. Skelton. This 
 lady had prudently ignored the fact, until the 
 boat was fairly gone ; for as she internally argued, 
 her dear young gentleman was odd at times, and 
 he might just have packed the whole of the 
 goodly hamper back, which would have been a 
 mortal shame, besides that it might have affronted 
 the kind young lady. So she kept her peace,
 
 GRACE LEE. 295 
 
 and waited until she saw her master deep in one 
 of his thinking fits, to introduce and safely stow 
 away the said hamper. The noise, however 
 roused him, and he looked up interrogatively. 
 
 Mrs. Skelton, standing between the hamper 
 and her master, said in careless explanation — 
 
 "It^s only a bit of a basket, sir, which the 
 lady has been kind enouo^h to send, just until 
 that water goes down and I can go to market — " 
 
 " Very well,^^ he carelessly interrupted, for he 
 saw nothing extraordinary in this, and rising, he 
 took his hat and went out. 
 
 The swollen stream might flow around his 
 dwelling and shut him in from men; but the 
 mountain side, though steep, still afforded space 
 for wandering. He did not go far; high up 
 above the valley, underneath the projecting brow 
 of the mountain, he found a barren hollow, and 
 there, though the place was bleak and cold, he 
 threw himself down recklessly. Lying thus on 
 that hard bed of rock ; below him the waters he
 
 296 GRACE LEE. 
 
 could not cross, above him the cliffs he could not 
 scale, his gloomy fancy saw in his present 
 position, the type of his destiny. 
 
 Yet his thoughts were not all bitter ; the 
 modern poetry of sentiment he had not ; but he 
 had much of the more healthful poetry of the 
 ancients. He loved the beautiful country in 
 which he was born and had been reared ; dear to 
 him were her skies, her noble mountains, her 
 lakes and streams. Dear to him under every sky 
 were tlie grand and solemn aspects of nature. 
 As he now lay there, stretched in one of her 
 wildest haunts, he found an austere charm in the 
 almost wintry mien she wore. Around him lay a 
 wilderness of heath, brown rocks, and stunted 
 brushwood. Near his head an invisible spring 
 trickled down from above with a low murmur; 
 above him spread a gray and ever-changing sky. 
 The spot was not beautiful, but it was lone; it 
 was not pleasant, but it lay on a Welsh mountain, 
 wild and free ; and as the wind swept by him with
 
 GEACE LEE. 297 
 
 a low wail, as clouds floated past white and chill 
 through the silent air, John Owen, spite of a 
 disappointment that still rankled eager ambition 
 and stern pride, felt almost happy. 
 
 There may be something in the breath of the 
 mountains that quickens the flow of the blood 
 and thrills through the nerves ; but these glorious 
 children of earth, born of her in her vigorous 
 youth, when she could bring forth none save a 
 Titan brood, have a still deeper power over the 
 soul than over the frame of man. More than 
 the pathless sea to the mariner, to the rider his 
 swift steed, do they speak to him who seeks them 
 of liberty. They dwell in a region where ceases 
 all law save that of the elements ; they rear above 
 the clouds that form our lower sky, barren 
 summits tl.at know no master, and Toil, that 
 tyrant of the pleasant valleys and fertile plains, 
 sleeps at their feet a silent and a conquered foe. 
 
 "When John Owen came down and re-entered 
 his dreary dwelling, he found Mrs. Skelton 
 
 3
 
 298 GRACE LEE. 
 
 standing on the door-step and examining some 
 bright object. 
 
 " Sir/^ she said, holding it up to him, ^' if you 
 please, the lady has foi'gotten this ; outlandish 
 pieces made to look like gold though not quite so 
 bright." 
 
 " They are gold," replied Mr. Owen, recog- 
 nising the favourite bracelet of Grace. 
 
 Mrs. Skelton smiled with sceptical shrewdness. 
 " Gold pieces," she argued, '' were not quite so 
 plentiful as to be strung that w ay for ladies to 
 wear round their wrists; however, if she only 
 knew where the lady lived, she would return it 
 of course." 
 
 " I shall leave it with her the first time I go 
 
 out," interrupted Mr. Owen, and taking the 
 bracelet he quietly put it in his pocket. 
 
 Mrs. Skelton looked blank, he perceived, but 
 
 would not heed it. He wanted to see and know 
 
 of Miss Lee as little as possible. He had come 
 
 to Wales to break with a past which her presence
 
 GRACE LEE. 299 
 
 brought back to him vivid and distinct. He 
 resolved to call, return her bracelet, and see her 
 no more. Garrulous Mrs. Skelton should have 
 no hand in the business, and woman-like entangle 
 him into an acquaintance. 
 
 For two days the torrent rose higher around 
 his dwelling; it reached the threshold, then 
 retreated. 
 
 " That enemy at least is vanquished," thought 
 Owen, as he stood on the door-step watching the 
 sullen waters going back to their bed. He went 
 out in the afternoon to visit a few patients ; the 
 sun was near its setting when he reached Miss 
 Lee's house, and her little maid Phoebe intro- 
 duced him into the parlour of her mistress. 
 
 She was absent, but tokens of her presence 
 remained. The low chair she had filled still 
 stood by the table, with the cushion on which her 
 feet had rested. Her Greek Father lay open ; a 
 skein of silk marked the page she had been 
 reading ; a piece of canvas with a rose half
 
 300 GEACE LEE. . 
 
 worked, and in a vase by it a living rose 
 (whereby to copy the shading of Nature), com- 
 pleted this mixture of grave and frivolous occu- 
 pations. John Owen glanced at the Greek 
 volume, then at the unfinished task, then smiled 
 a little ironically. 
 
 " What do you think of it ? '^ asked the voice 
 of Grace. 
 
 He looked up ; she stood on the threshold of a 
 glass door that opened on the garden. Behind 
 her spread a clear back-ground of air, breezy 
 trees, and blue sky ; whilst on her face and figure 
 gently fell the mellow light of the sun-lit room. 
 
 " Have I succeeded or not ? '' she continued, 
 entering. 
 
 " Very well, indeed ; " he replied, rising and 
 accepting her extended hand. *^And so,^' he 
 added, resuming his seat as she carelessly sank 
 down into hers ; " and so you read Greek, Miss 
 Lee?^^ 
 
 " To be sure,*' she promptly replied j ^^ don't
 
 GRACE LEE. 301 
 
 you ? ^^ And she gave him a look of seeming 
 wonder. 
 
 "A littlcj" he diffidently answered. 
 
 " How did you leave your ark ? " 
 
 " Easily enough ; the deluge subsided.''^ 
 ' "HowisMrs. Skelton?'' 
 
 " Well : she found this." 
 
 He drew forth the bracelet of gold coins. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " exclaimed Grace with 
 sparkling eyes. '^ Thank you, Mr. Owen, thank 
 
 you.^^ 
 
 Joyfully she took it from his hand ; then taking 
 up her work she said : 
 
 " I do this, Mr. Owen, because T like it, and 
 because you being a sort of savage — " 
 
 " Eh ! " 
 
 '^ Well, wljat are you ? Have you not forsworn 
 civilisation and her wicked ways ? " 
 
 " True ; pray go on — ^ and being a sort of 
 savage — ' " 
 
 '' Do you prefer Timon ? Apropos, Mr. Owen,
 
 302 GEACE LEE. 
 
 I have been looking over that book again. Do 
 you know I am astonished you ever wrote it." 
 
 " Indeed ! " he answered with some indiffer- 
 ence^ for he akeady wanted to be gone. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," she continued, going on with 
 her rose; "in the first place, it fails as a novel." 
 
 " It was not meant to succeed as a novel," he 
 said with some disdain. 
 
 "Then, pray, what business has ^A Tale^ in 
 the title-page ? " 
 
 "None, I confess it. ^ Truths^ should have 
 been the word." 
 
 " In my opinion, ^ Abuse ' would have answered 
 better. And this is what I cannot make out. 
 How could you — yes, Mr. Owen, how could you 
 stoop to abuse ? " 
 
 She looked at him fixedly and inquiringly, and 
 he returned the glance with one of some wonder 
 at this catechising. She composedly resumed : 
 
 " I know that some men of genius have stooped 
 to satire, but I also know that it was not then that
 
 GRACE LEE. 303 
 
 their genius burned with purest and brightest 
 flame. Abuse is so very vulgar! Ay, in the 
 streets or in a palace its essence is still vulgarity ; 
 and then it is so easy ! — who cannot, once fairly 
 about it, abuse something or some one ? The only 
 art is to ransack memory for reflections, false or 
 true ; for epithets choice or coarse, then to deal 
 them forth according to the measure of one's taste 
 and temper. It is bad spoken, and written ten 
 times worse. For who knows not that where there 
 is a failure of some higher power, povertj^ of inven- 
 tion, of imagination, feeling, fancy and the noble 
 gifts that spring like gracious plants from the 
 depths of a writer's heart ; abuse of a class, a creed 
 or a nation is resorted to, like the hot spice with 
 which a distressed cook tries to hide the deficiencies 
 of an indifferent dish. For my part, I confess it, 
 when I read such a book, I keep my pity for the 
 satirist. I pity him as I pity that peevish and 
 fretful insect the wasp, that has just power enough 
 to stiug, but to whom God has not granted the
 
 304 GRACE LEE. 
 
 nobler and mightier power to wound. Indeed, 
 Mr. Owen/' she added, laying down her work to 
 give him a compassionate glance, ^' I think 
 it a great pity and a great sham.e you 
 should have mixed yourself up with that low- 
 minded, mean-hearted, and bad-tempered class oi 
 people.'^ 
 
 She spoke very composedly, without undue 
 haste, with nothing like apprehension in her look 
 or hesitation in her tone. John Owen had heard 
 her through, mute, and amazed at her audacity. 
 He possessed that power of subdued sarcasm which 
 a look, a word, a sneer can express — a power than 
 which nothing perhaps in this wide world is more 
 feared and hated; but for once he found one as 
 fearless as others were cowardly, one who in a few 
 minutes told him more truths than he had ever 
 heard during his whole lifetime. The secret of 
 winning power is often to assume it as granted. 
 By taking on herself the right to lecture Timon, 
 Grace Lee secured it once for all. Her daring and
 
 GRACE LEE. 305 
 
 her frankness left a soothing charm in the very- 
 sting her unsparing speech inflicted. Pleased with 
 her in spite of himself, he condescended to argue 
 with her, a thing he rarely did with man or woman. 
 
 " If I understand you rightly/^ he began, "you 
 wish for a millenium of peace.^^ 
 
 " Peace ! " she interrupted, " peace on earth ! — 
 whilst wrong reigns insolent and triumphant; 
 whilst truth groans miserable and oppressed. No, 
 Mr. Owen, Heaven forbid that I should wish for 
 peace !'^ 
 
 "And pray what would you wish for?" 
 
 " For war instead of mere quarrelling. I respect 
 attack as much as I despise abuse. I long for the 
 day when facts and argument shall take the place 
 of falsehoods and insults ; when the battles of 
 truth shall be fought with TrutVs own arms, 
 truths — and not with the arms of her step-sister. 
 Slander — lies." 
 
 He was leaning back in an arm-chair ; from its 
 depths he looked at her half mistrustfully; all
 
 so 6 GRACE LEE. 
 
 this sounded fair, but was it true ? In lier eyes 
 and in her face he saw, however, nothing but 
 sincerity. There was a pause, then he said care- 
 lessly : 
 
 " Is Timon a slanderer?'^ 
 
 " No — nor a misanthrope either/^ 
 
 " How so, pray ? " 
 
 "A misanthrope is one that loves his kind and 
 has been deceived in them. I acquit Timon of 
 having ever wasted much trust or love on human 
 nature.^' 
 
 Timon bowed as if he felt the compliment ; she 
 continued : 
 
 "Timon is simply a disappointed and a revenge- 
 ful man." 
 
 This time he did not bow. The definition was 
 true and pitiless ; it stung him, but too proud to 
 show this, he merely said : 
 
 " You are quite] right. Miss Lee, he has been 
 disappointed. Ay, and he has had good cause 
 for revenge, too," he added bitterl}^, as if he still
 
 GEACE LEE. 307 
 
 smarted under tlie recollection of his wrongs, " I 
 know myself; I am a hard man; but I required 
 little of others ; I placed myself on the path of 
 none ; I was not ambitious/^ 
 
 " Indeed you were," interrupted Grace. 
 
 " Excuse me ; I was going to add — beyond my 
 deserts. The position I was fit for and had a right 
 to, I claimed — for more I never asked. And how 
 have I been treated from boyhood to youth — from 
 youth to manhood?" 
 
 " I dare say not much worse than other people," 
 put in Grace with provoking composure. 
 
 " Not much worse ! " he echoed, with an indig- 
 nant laugh. '^ Pray what, then, is the world's way 
 of dealin g with men ? " 
 
 '^ A very fair way," she answered with prompt 
 decision. 
 
 "Fair!" he repeated, looking at her. Grace 
 went on working silently; he waited for her to 
 justify her opinion, but she seemed to consider the 
 question settled. Clever man though he was, he
 
 308 GRACE LEE. 
 
 fell into the trap laid for him, and broke forth 
 indignantl}^ : 
 
 " Fair ! have I then been fairly treated ? My 
 birth was obscure ; I was not ashamed of it ; but 
 who ever allowed me to forgelj that my father had 
 been a pawnbroker and my mother a Jewess ; I 
 valued not money, but I valued what is called 
 pleasure still less. The extravagant taunted me 
 with sparing gold coined out of the pence of the 
 poor. I despised quarrelling and fighting, bullies 
 called me a coward — as if because the blood of a 
 despised race flowed in my veins, scorn and con- 
 tumely were the only food fit for me. For some 
 time I bore this, then suddenly I turned round 
 and showed the dastard crew that the patience of 
 my Jewish forefathers had not at least come down 
 to me. The dull I chastised once for all. For 
 the insolent I kept the keener weapons of ridicule 
 and sarcasm ; they thought to retaliate; but finding 
 me more than a match for them they slunk ofi". 
 Henceforth there was silence around me ; the
 
 GRACE LEE. 309 
 
 silence of hatred^ I knew it^ but they had not 
 taught me to care for their love/^ 
 
 ^* A propitious beginning ! '' drily said Miss Lee. 
 Too much absorbed to heed the interruption, he 
 continued : 
 
 "Years came upon me thick and fast. My 
 youth submitted to the yoke of but one passion 
 — ambition. Here, too, was cause for strange 
 reproach. The vicious hated me because I shared 
 not their vices ; the virtuous thought it unnatural 
 that my life remained blameless as their own. 
 I laughed at them all, and kept myself free from 
 degrading shackles. To submit to an angel as 
 I saw some men submit to the most worthless of 
 their sex, would have quelled pride and respect 
 for ever.^^ 
 
 " But, Mr. Owen,^' quietly observed Grace, 
 "these are mere trifles; and I dare say if you 
 would only look at it in a right way — you would 
 find in the subsequent portion of your life still 
 less reason to complain of the world.^^
 
 310 GRACE LEE. 
 
 "All ! " he saicl_, astonished at her coolness. 
 
 " Why, yes ; for instance you studied medicine, 
 then forsook it for the bar — thus your first step 
 in life was a mistake — " 
 
 "For which I blame none/^ he jealously inter- 
 rupted. " Pray do not think I complain of my 
 early struggles ; that I reproach the world with 
 the toil to which I voluntarily devoted j^ears, or 
 call society to account, because during that long 
 probation, she never once stretched forth to me a 
 friendly or a helping hand. Proud, strong and 
 self-reliant, what did I want from her? Even 
 when I had done all man can do alone — I defy 
 any living being to say I asked her for more 
 than a fair field and no favour/^ 
 
 " "Which you got,^^ decisively put in Grace. " I 
 know you do not think so. You are disappointed, 
 you feel bitter ; but depend upon it, you — " 
 
 "Indeed, Miss Lee,^^ he interrupted, impa- 
 tiently, " this is too much ! .1 claim to be no 
 exception ; far from it, I aver that a fair chance
 
 GRACE LEE. 311 
 
 of success is not granted to one man in a 
 thousand. When I entered the world you defend 
 so zealously^ I found it arrayed in terror and in 
 arms against all new comers; opposing to them 
 a front as firm and steady as that of an army on 
 a battle day. I found it assumed as granted 
 that there never could be again any man like the 
 men that had been ; that to follow in their steps 
 was common-place and tame ; to strike out a 
 new path a dangerous and absurd innovation. 
 I learned^ moreover, in many a slight, and many 
 a sneer, that a well established name and repu- 
 tation were the only warrants of merit, even as 
 success was its only test. I heard the Past 
 and the Present uniting to denounce the Future. 
 ' You are not wanted,^ they querulously cried ; 
 ^you are troublesome; you are dangerous; you 
 upset the legitimate order of things; every 
 place is full ; there is no room for you ; sufficient 
 are we to the wants of this generation. Begone !^ 
 Vain and fatuitous assertion, repeated day after
 
 312 GKACE LEE. 
 
 day, year after year, age after age, and as 
 unavailing against tlie tide of posterity as the 
 ' Come no farther ' of Canute to the sea. 
 
 " And that flood which so firmly beat against 
 the bulwarks of society and which I now entered 
 — what was it? The same world under demo- 
 cratic guise. The very scum and dregs of human 
 nature ; frenzied ambition grasping at every 
 prize with the power to win none; strength 
 without its magnanimity pitilessly trampling 
 down the w^eak ; a band of middle-age condottieri 
 besieging a fat burgher city, and more hungry 
 for plunder than athirst for renown. There 
 w^as war too in this unruly horde — war silent 
 but deadly ; how sternly the foremost ranks kept 
 back the hindermost ! how firmly they would 
 have crushed the foremost if they but could ! 
 
 '' Sometimes the citadel above, that seat of 
 luxury and ease, capriciously opened its gates 
 to receive some chosen one who, like all deserters, 
 straight became the bitterest foe of those he
 
 GRACE LEE. 313 
 
 had left behind. I have never heard scorn more 
 keen, never seen hatred more relentless, than 
 from the successful to the unlucky, the victorious 
 to the conquered. Was I better than they with 
 and against whom I strove ? I do not say so, 
 but surely I could not be worse. What a life 
 was ours ! What a burning atmosphere of fever 
 and strife brooded over us and wrapped us all 
 in its lurid shadow ! " 
 
 He paused; in his eager look, in his pale thin 
 features, in his parted lips, seemed to revive 
 the feverish excitement of that time. 
 
 '^ Well ! '' said Grace. 
 
 He looked up at her like one wakening from a 
 dream. 
 
 " Pray go on !^' she said impatiently. 
 
 " With what ? '' 
 
 " With your history of course." 
 
 She looked eager and interested. Uncon- 
 sciously he felt soothed and flattered. There is 
 a deep and subtle egotism in your clever men, to
 
 314 GRACE LEE. 
 
 ^vhich. even the coldest and most self-denying 
 must yield sometimes — and to the weakness John 
 Owen yielded now. 
 
 " Well/^ he resumed, " I was not amongst the 
 fortunate. Day after day I saw men inferior to 
 me in knowledge and power, succeed and thrive. 
 I knew why : they could fawn and flatter ; things 
 impossible to me. Yet I confes.:, it honestly, 
 their triumphs galled me. Without troubling 
 you, Miss Lee, with the story of disappointments 
 that still found me an obscure, unknown man, 
 leading a life of poverty and toil, suffice it to say, 
 that chance made me meet again with Captain 
 Glawdon. He gave me hopes he never intended 
 to fulfil. All he meant was to get from me 
 legal advice and information, without paying for 
 either; yet he lured me on with a resistless 
 bait; an opportunity of being heard and known. 
 Obscurity is narrow and stifling. I panted for 
 air and space to breathe. I . saw through the 
 man ; I trusted not his honour or his faith ; but
 
 GRACE LEE. 315 
 
 to the triumph of a vigorous mind over a feeble 
 intellect ; to the power of a strong will to bend 
 even meanness and deceit to its own end. I 
 forgot that the mean are insolent ; that the 
 cunning are full of low arts. He wanted to 
 break with me; I defeated his object; at length I 
 yielded. I believe you know how this was accom- 
 plished ; you know at least of the duel which you 
 succeeded in preventing. I felt that you acted 
 through Mr. Gerald Lee. He must have had 
 strange power over his relative^ for he made him 
 withdraw his challenge^ and apologise to the man 
 he had insulted. I knew that I had a foe the 
 more on my path; but I despised^ and did not 
 fear him. I returned to London; there I re- 
 ceived from you an invitation that led to my 
 introduction to a certain circle. And now. Miss 
 Lee," he added, raising his eyes until they met 
 hers, " allow me to pause in this long egotistical 
 narrative, in order to thank you : I had done 
 
 nothing to conciliate your favour, but much, h^d 
 
 p 2
 
 316 GRACE LEE. 
 
 you been resentful^ to win me your dislike or 
 hatred. Another woman, in your proud and 
 envied position, would assuredly, by some slight, 
 some scorn, have made me pay the penalty of my 
 pride, and with look, or smile, or tone sweetly 
 galling, have taught me, once for all, that a poor 
 and struggling barrister was something less than 
 a man for a worshipped heiress. I found you 
 just, — more than just, generous. You tried to 
 serve me, and you exacted no return of flattery 
 or homage. In the little there was between us 
 I always found you better and greater than 
 myself. Above and beyond you I may be in 
 some things, but of us two, you are assuredly 
 the higher-minded and the more magnanimous. 
 I confess it as willingly because true, as I should 
 scornfully deny it if false. More I will add : I 
 thank you. Miss Lee, for being the only one who 
 ever treated me as a man and a gentleman. ^^ 
 
 He looked at her with a smile, proud spite of 
 so frank a confession. Grace gave him back a
 
 GRACE LEE. 317 
 
 look and a smile as proud as his own. She knew 
 that if he could have helped it he would scarcely 
 have said so much ; that of the homage, the best 
 part was yielded to truth ; to her little ; to the 
 woman certainly nothing. 
 
 " Mr. Owen/' she said, after a pause, which he 
 forgot to break, "how comes it that the intro- 
 duction to which you allude availed you so 
 little ? '^ 
 
 The gloom returned to his brow ; the scornful 
 light to his dark eye, the sneer to his ironical 
 lip, as he answered sarcastically : 
 
 " The Honou^-able Mrs. Chesterfield wanted a 
 thousandth and one adorer of her perfections ; 
 IMr. Woodman, a tool for his rancour against a 
 man of genius ; Mr. Hanley, a toady and a boon 
 companion. None of these people cared a rush 
 to serve me. I do not blame them, but neither 
 was I going to be their fool or their slave. I 
 soon lost their favour, or, rather, I never won it ; 
 but T saw something of them, and they might
 
 318 GRACE LEE. 
 
 have proved of use to me in the end, when I 
 could not but perceive that a cloud had gradually 
 come between them and me. 
 
 '^Mrs. Chesterfield was strangely cool, and 
 disdainful and impertinent. I was once with 
 her when some officers came in ; I forget of what 
 we spoke, but in the progress of our discourse, 
 her eye fell on me with a scorn so insulting, that 
 I rose and left the house, which I have never 
 entered since that day. Woodman, on the 
 contrary, became more familiar and patronising ; 
 he was then deep in his scheme of hiring me to 
 book-making, a thing I hated. He coaxed, he 
 wheedled in vain; he dropped strange hints 
 about pluck and mettle ; he kindly assured me 
 Brandon was not dangerous ; that the war of 
 books was a pacific war ; that rivals of the pen 
 seldom proceeded to perilous extremities. I 
 laughed in his face, and asked him if he thought 
 I feared anything mortal or any living being? 
 He coughed, and smiled, and said, "Oh dear,
 
 GKACE LEE. 3J9 
 
 no ! * with this Ave dropped the subject ; he went 
 his way, I mine, but with me went his smile and 
 his ^ Oh dear, no ! ' I know not, however, how 
 I might have interpreted either, but for Mr. 
 Hanley. He had taken a fancy to me ever since 
 I had detected the presence of oysters in the 
 ambroisie d la Lee. He often asked mfe to his 
 table; my very heart burned with impatience 
 and wrath to see that whilst, without cost to 
 himself, he could have brought me to the gate 
 of my wishes, he found me no better task than to 
 con over dishes and talk cookery. Yet I bore it ; 
 I hoped that he who had once been a poor and a 
 struggling man would help me yet. He never 
 did. He did not want me to succeed, and be 
 lost to him ; so he gave me hopes and kept me 
 back for the sake of a poor and selfish indul- 
 gence. But as our acquaintance grew closer, 
 he became cynical, ironical, almost insolent. 
 Cautiously at first, in the end openly, he tried 
 to make me the butt of his sarcasms. I began
 
 320 GRACE LEE. 
 
 to "anderstand there must be something in all 
 this ; that Mrs. Chesterfield, that Woodman, that 
 Hanley would never dare to use me so, if they 
 did not feel assured of impunity. I had sus- 
 picions, but I wanted certitude ; so I kept my 
 blood cool, T allowed Hanley full play, I subdued 
 wrath, 5| silenced passion. My patience won its 
 reward. The subtle old cynic told me volun- 
 tarily, in a genial after-dinner moment, what no 
 questioning would have extracted from him at 
 another time. 'I might be no hero,' he said, 
 'but T should live all the longer. Indeed, he 
 had no doubt that I should reach the threescore 
 and ten, whilst that hare-brained Glawdon could 
 not fail being shot or spitted out of life one of 
 these days.' 
 
 " Thus I learned it all : Captain Glawdon had 
 told and falsified the story of the duel ; he had 
 proclaimed me a coward, and on his word the 
 world had believed it. 
 
 " A coward ! ^' resumed John Owen after a
 
 GRACE LEE. 321 
 
 pause^ and the veins in his forehead swelled 
 
 passionately, and his eyes burned with a light 
 
 that grew more keen and clear as he proceeded ; 
 
 " A coward ! the meanest thing that ever felt the 
 
 snn's light or breathed air of earth ! And I was 
 
 stung thus in my honour and my pride by one 
 
 who had meanly wronged and basely insulted 
 
 me ! I scorned to deny the accusation until I 
 
 could prove it false. I never breathed his name 
 
 until we met. I had watched my opportunity in 
 
 the broad daylight,, in a crowd, face to face ; and 
 
 then not behind his back, like a traitor, but to his 
 
 face like a man, I gave him the lie. He never 
 
 answered ; his look could not meet my look, his 
 
 tongue repel the deadly insult mine had uttered 
 
 clear and distinct for all to hear; he merely 
 
 trembled and turned pale, cowered and slunk 
 
 away mute. Many wondered, for he was thought 
 
 brave. I did not wonder : a dastard can stand 
 
 the shot of a foe better than the look of a man. 
 
 " Days and weeks passed ; I heard nothing of 
 
 p 3
 
 322 GRACE LEE. 
 
 him ; the insolence and the scorn passed from the 
 manner of those with whom I chanced to mingle ; 
 coward I was thought no longer ; I had proved 
 no physical courage, yet I got it for granted. 
 Captain Glawdon at length made up his mind, 
 and sent me a challenge. 
 
 " I hate duelling. I abhor that appeal to a 
 random shot or gladiator thrust as I abhor all 
 that is low and brutal. The first time Captain 
 Glawdon challenged me, my pride rose and my 
 blood boiled to think that for the caprice of a 
 fool I was to peril every chance of mj^ ambition ; 
 that my life, a keen, intellectual life, full of pro- 
 jects and aims, was to stand the same chance, 
 and be measured in the same scale as that of an 
 effeminate dandy. But the second time the 
 Captain challenged me, I felt differently. I 
 protest against being what is called a humane 
 or a philanthropic man. This may be the age 
 of peace societies, of abolition movements, of 
 sympathy meetings ; but, I confess it, these
 
 GKACE LEE. 823 
 
 things sicken me. To the attacked I say, 
 defend yourselves even unto death ; to the 
 slave, rise against the tyrant, and be free ; to 
 the oppressed, scorn sympathy that spends itself 
 in speech. In the same mood, I can look on 
 the suffering and the death of others, not with 
 pleasure, but without morbid horror or grief. 
 Pain is our lot, death our end ; let both, then, 
 be borne without making all this outcry about 
 an everyday matter. At the same time I am 
 neither butcher nor executioner; to torment is 
 repugnant to me as a surgeon ; to give death in 
 war or duelling — I protest I can see no difference 
 — would be still more so. Now, on the day when 
 I met Captain Glawdon I had seen death written 
 on his brow and vanquished in his eye. I knew 
 that if we met as foes meet, he was doomed. I 
 said so to the military gentleman who called 
 upon me, and I declined the challenge. He 
 remonstrated, and assured me such conduct in a 
 gentleman was without precedent. I offered to
 
 324 GRACE LEE. 
 
 meet liim if lie liked ; ' for you^ at least/ I said^ 
 * have a fair chance — he has not/ He did not 
 think fit to accept my offer, and withdrew, 
 impressed and astonished. I have heard that he 
 reported me to his friend as an evil-minded man, 
 and strongly advised him to arrange the matter ; 
 but Captain Glawdon was bent on his fate. I 
 soon received a second challenge ; again I refused 
 it ; but when a third message came, I said, ' Be 
 his blood on his own head, and his death at his 
 own door ! ' 
 
 " Dark and tragic, if rightly told, would be the 
 story of that day. Strange that in a Avorld so 
 wide two men could not find room to move and 
 not meet. I remember I thought of that as in 
 the gray of early morning I stood by the fresh 
 hawthorn hedge and listened to the rising song of 
 the lark in a neighbouring corn-field ; whilst he, 
 miserable man, moved restlessly to and fro, and 
 sang snatches of a glee, and our two witnesses 
 pedantically discussed a doubtful point in this
 
 GRACE LEE. 325 
 
 false code of a falser honour. You look pale, 
 Miss Lee ! well I assure you, tliat if one could 
 forget the end, nothing can be less terrible to see 
 than a duel. When: two angry men appeal to brute 
 force, and grapple in their strength for mastery, 
 the contest is often long, and always sickening to 
 behold ; but in a duel it is quiet, swift, silent and 
 deadly as the hate that has brought the two com- 
 batants to that solitary spot. A few minutes and 
 all was over ; his shot passed by me harmless ; 
 mine wounded him slightly ; his wished to reach 
 my heart ; mine to miss him ; we both failed. 
 Every precaution had been taken; law could not 
 touch us ; the matter was kept quiet. I was 
 relieved and astonished ; my enemy lived spite of 
 presentiment and sign. His wound healed fast ; 
 it healed until it opened afresh, and ended in a 
 mortal fever, that in a few weeks laid him in his 
 grave. I heard it, and would rather that no hand 
 of mine had helped to bring him there. He was 
 not good, he was not honourable ; but life was
 
 326 ' GRACE LEE. 
 
 given to all, aud to all seems sweet. Again T 
 asked myself, was earth not wide enough for 
 him and me ? '^ 
 
 There was a low remorseful cadence in his 
 voice as he made this confession, and paused. 
 But suddenly he looked up and said, abruptly : 
 
 " Be frank. Miss Lee. What do you think 
 of me in this ? '^ 
 
 " I think,^' she replied, very gravely, '^ that 
 the God who had made you both, against whose 
 gentle law of brotherly love and holy peace 
 you both rebelled and sinned, is your only 
 judge/' 
 
 He had not expected an answer so mild in 
 form, so severe in its spirit. He bit his lip 
 and retorted : 
 
 '' And you charitably deliver me up to judg- 
 ment. Well, no matter ! But you misunder- 
 stood me, Miss Lee : I was asking ^^ou for j^our 
 opinion." 
 
 " I think," she calmly answered, " that with
 
 GRACE LEE. 327 
 
 many ways of proving yourself no coward^ you 
 chose the worst and the least conclusive. Moral 
 cowardice is at the bottom of nine out of ten 
 of the duels fought daily. However, if I go 
 on, I shall fall into the commonplace truths 
 every one knows, every one confesses, and no 
 one has the daring and the manliness to put in 
 practice. This much, however, there is to say 
 in your extenuation ; the unfortunate man 
 brought on his own fate, and the world that 
 abetted him was far more guilty than you of 
 the deed, for which, if I mistake not, its laws 
 attempted to render you responsible.^^ 
 
 " Oh ! no," bitterly replied John Owen ; " law 
 did not touch me; there was no inquest of 
 justice ; but opinion, that immaculate Themis, 
 became coroner, and delivered her verdict 
 without granting me the benefit of witness or 
 jury. She had once proclaimed me a coward. 
 She now branded me as a murderer and a fiend. 
 To whosoever wished to listen, she told by what
 
 328 GRACE LEE. 
 
 deadly insults I had driven an honourable man, 
 husband of a most interesting young wife, 
 father of an innocent child, to meet me in 
 mortal combat. She stigmatised my enmity 
 as that of the dastard who dares not to stand 
 by his own deed. ^Another/ she said, ^ would 
 have shot his foe dead, then surrendered himself 
 manfully to take his trial. But I^ — ingenious 
 was the heart that conceived the calumny; pure 
 the mind that rounded the tale ; guileless the 
 tongue that uttered it — ' I, once a medical man, 
 had found to the life of my victim a slower 
 and a safer way — I had calculated the shot that 
 inflicted the wound — that brought on the fever 
 that led-r-to death ! ' The monstrous invention 
 was told, spread, and believed. IMrs. Chester- 
 field, meeting me once by chance, fainted 
 gracefully in her carriage at the sight of 
 such a monster. Woodman had just then got 
 hold of a fit tool; a man with talent enough 
 to write a book, and not too much to write at
 
 GRACE LEE. 329 
 
 another man^s bidding. The result appeared in 
 a novel_, of which I was hero : and a gentleman- 
 like villain they made me out. A coward, a 
 traitor, a profligate, an apostate, an atheist, a 
 usurer, a socialist, a spy — everything, save a 
 fool. That, I am bound to confess, either in 
 or out of the book, I sincerely believe no one 
 ever called me.^^ His lip took a disdainful curl, 
 and he proceeded : " I read this book, of which 
 the preface was not the least edifying part. In 
 it the reader was gravely assured that the ' Son 
 of Darkness ^ — such was the title — was no idle 
 creation of the writer^s brain. No; he still 
 lived to bewilder and appal his fellow-creatures. 
 He walked amongst men with the mark of Cain 
 on his brow, and on his lips the sneer of Satan. — 
 But why trouble you with such trash ? — There 
 was notoriety in the book; every one read it. 
 If I could have stooped to deny charges so 
 calumnious, accusations so infamous, I should 
 have held myself a justly degraded man. I let
 
 330 GEACE LEE. 
 
 slander say her worst ; she flung dirt at me, 
 and I, remembering that it was dirt, defiled not 
 myself with handling of it. More defiant, as 
 she grew more insulting, I went on my way 
 and heeded her execrations no more than the 
 traveller heeds the barking of curs on the high 
 road. At length, it came to this point between 
 society and me, that, I may say it without 
 boasting, we met face to face in a narrow pass. 
 She told me plainly that she would hunt me 
 out of hearth and home. I swore that if my 
 life should be the price, I would keep inviolate 
 and free the sacred right of every man to 
 work for the bread he eats, for the roof that 
 shelters him. I then made out a precarious 
 living — not by the bar, for though I got a 
 motion now and then, I was no favourite in 
 the court — but by reports for a newspaper and 
 reviews for a magazine. I earned little; but 
 I lived sparingly, and owed nothing to any man. 
 On this poor pittance others, poorer than myself,
 
 GRACE LEE. 331 
 
 cast the looks of greediness and envy. The 
 opportunity was good, blasted as I was in 
 character and name, to oust me from my barren 
 heritage. I fought for it, as a monarch for his 
 kingdom. I dared living man to wrest it from 
 me; placed defenceless between the two fires 
 of rivals and employers, by braving them alike, 
 I silenced, ay, and I quelled them both. I 
 stood alone ; my foes were many, yet they 
 retreated, sullen and daunted. 
 
 " If I am proud of anything in my life, it is 
 of that struggle and of that victory. But when 
 it was won ; when, though they might detest me, 
 I compelled men to grant me that sort of respect 
 which they yield to power — good or evil. When 
 there was the peace, and again, as in my boy- 
 hood, the silence of hatred around me, — insulted 
 manhood asserted his rights, injured honour her 
 wrongs. Voluntarily I yielded, what compulsion 
 would never have wrested from me. I gave back 
 society the reluctant and niggardly portion I had
 
 33:2 GRACE LEE. 
 
 wrung from her iucli bj^ incli : my seat at her 
 board, — my resting place beneath her roof, — my 
 right to her highways and barren places. When 
 the vassal surrenders his fief, he also surrenders 
 his allegiance, and stands once more a stripped, 
 but a free man before his lord. To that proud 
 lad}^, who had poured on me the vials of her 
 contempt and her wrath, I now gave back scorn 
 for scorn. I wrote ' Timon,' not for justification, 
 but for revenge. Of myself I said nothing — of 
 her much. I tore the veil from the brow of this 
 mock vestal, and to her own gaze I showed her 
 in her unblushing shame. I told her she was a 
 coward, for that to the weak she was pitiless, and 
 fawning to the strong; a traitor, for that she 
 daily bartered the holiest gods of her worship for 
 Baal and Mammon ; a liar, for that she publicly 
 dealt in lies, lived and thrived on tJiem, on 
 pledges broken from man to man, — on oaths 
 betrayed from class to class, — on treaties forsworn 
 from nation to nation. With this I left her.
 
 GRACE LEE. S33 
 
 " ' Timon ^ sold well, and read even better than 
 the ' Son of Darkness.' Who knows but I might 
 not have achieved a literary reputation ! But 
 content with this Parthian shaft I had dealt my 
 foe, I sought obscurity as I had once sought 
 fame. I resumed the profession I had forsaken, 
 and came and settled here more wearied than 
 crushed — more scornful than conquered.^^ 
 
 His lip curled with the disdainful smile familiar 
 to it_, and his eyes dark and deep-set, shot forth 
 a sullen and defiant light. 
 
 '^ Mr. Owen/^ quietly said Grace, " I have 
 heard you to the end, and I am going to give 
 you a good sound dose of Job's-friend comfort. 
 I shall kindly prove to you that you have got no 
 more than you deserved. To begin. Did you 
 forget, or did you not know, that two things 
 are indispensable to lead a peaceful life in the 
 world, — leniency to error; forgiveness of wrong. 
 Believe me it was for not having practised either, 
 that when the dark hour came to you, which
 
 334 GRACE LEE. 
 
 comes to eveiy man, you found many your foes — 
 none your friend/^ 
 
 " I wanted the friendship of none/' he replied, 
 haughtily. 
 
 " The world must be with or against some 
 men. For them — and you are one of them — 
 there can be no medium.^^ 
 
 He did not contradict what he felt to be true. 
 She continued. 
 
 " It was not for you. You would not practise 
 the world^s ways, and the world gave you none 
 of its rewards. It kept them for flatterers and 
 parasites. Would you have been of them ? ^^ 
 
 " I ! " he exclaimed, indignant at the sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 "Well, then, do not complain,'^ was her inex- 
 orable rejoinder, '' you would not pay the trader's 
 price, why should you get the trader's goods ? '^ 
 
 " They are not merchandise to be sold and 
 bought,^'' he replied, half impatiently, " but prizes 
 to be fought for and won.''
 
 GRACE LEE. 335 
 
 " lu the first place, I deny it ; in the second, 
 granting it, I aver that your own words condemn 
 you. If the world is a battle-field, on which you 
 have been beaten — Soldier ! know how to bear 
 with the fortune of war." 
 
 " Job's-friend comfort indeed, this ! " said John 
 Owen, with a lofty smile. 
 
 Miss Lee composedly proceeded on her course 
 of consolatory remarks : 
 
 " I know what you think ; that you ought to 
 have won. Quite a mistake ! Success is a matter 
 of temper far more than of genius. Genius you 
 have, I believe ; but you know you are not 
 amiable.^' 
 
 '' Eh ? " he interrupted, amazed. 
 
 " Well, are you ? " she said frankly ; ^^ I put 
 it to you : are you an amiable man ? " 
 
 '' Perhaps not," he at length answered. 
 
 '• I assure you," she candidly replied, " that 
 you may put ^ perhaps^ out of the question." 
 
 '' Well, you are frank," he said, after another
 
 336 GRACE LEE. 
 
 pause ; " but pray go on : you were saying that 
 success is a matter of temper far more than of 
 genius — a just remark." 
 
 ^^ Of course it is ; I never make any but just 
 remarks. However^ yoii liave interrupted me, 
 the thread of my thoughts is broken, and so, 
 without entering into further observations, all I 
 have to sa^^ is, you have been worsted — submit to 
 Fate ! '' 
 
 '' Fate ! ^' he exclaimed with a start. '^ I repu- 
 diate the slavish doctrine. Fatalism — I scorn it ; 
 man — underneath God — has no master save his 
 own will, strong or weak.^^ 
 
 " Hm-m," said Grace ; " and so it was your own 
 free will brought you here — a conquered man ? " 
 
 " Conquered — conquered," he repeated, rather 
 indignantly ; " disgusted and wearied — not con- 
 quered, if you please. ^^ 
 
 Grace laid down her w^ork, which she had 
 resumed, and looked at him with a penetrating 
 glance, and a peculiar smile.
 
 aRACE LEE. 337 
 
 " Disgusted ! ^' she said slowly. " Mr. Owen, 
 you have always been too clear-siglited, and 
 consequently too dispassionate, to be so easily 
 disgusted. And wearied, too ! Surely you do 
 not mean to say your nature is so weak as to 
 know satiety and weariness ? I do not think it 
 is. I do not think the wide- spread fame of a 
 Byron, the power of a Napoleon, would sate or 
 satisfy your ambition." 
 
 He half turned round, with not displeased 
 wonder, to look deep into one who could read 
 him so trul}^ She continued, — 
 
 " It was not weariness, but scorn that brought 
 you here. Strange mistake ! Your position, 
 after 'Timon^ appeared, was splendid, not as an 
 author, but as a man. Victoriously had you 
 proved the power that justifies — excuse my plain 
 speaking— an imperious temper. Besides, the 
 world likes to hear truths so stern, told with 
 such eloquent bitterness. It must be tyrant or 
 slave. It often spurns its worshippers to kiss
 
 338 GRACE LEE. 
 
 the hand that wields the lash. Had you but 
 kept your ground the day was yours.'' 
 
 John Owen smiled with ironical scepticism. 
 
 Miss Lee resumed : 
 
 " You left the field when the battle was all but 
 won. You look cool and phlegmatic as a Saxon, 
 but in reality you have hot Welsh blood. So 
 you lost your temper, and scorned Fortune, when 
 she was smiling. She left you, and with her fled 
 the golden opportunity that returns not twice in 
 a man^s life. 'Timon,^ as a book, is already 
 forgotten. ' Timon,' as a man, must abide by his 
 choice, and vegetate quietly to the end of his 
 days. An obscure end for so many proud 
 dreams; but one at least that unites philosophic 
 quietness and peace." 
 
 A demure smile played around her lips as she 
 uttered the last words. Her guest looked at her 
 with something like wrath. It stung his proud 
 heart to be told in those calm tones that the 
 paths of life were closed upon him. Only that
 
 GKACE LEE. 
 
 same pride forbade the boast, " That if he wished 
 he could yet shape a way." So he swallowed down 
 the insult, for such it seemed to him, and merely 
 said, with ill-subdued irritation, " I do not believe 
 in your Fortune, Miss Lee ; she is but a Fate in 
 disguise." 
 
 "Well, I believe in her — perhaps because she^ 
 has been invariably kind to me/' 
 
 " Miss Lee, is this quite frank ? I say honestk^ 
 that I am not satisfied with my lot ; you always 
 speak as if the fulness of happiness had fallen to 
 yours .^' 
 
 " You doubt it. Why so ? Speak plainly.'^ 
 
 " Why ! Because, when I look at you I seem 
 to see two women. One, I remember her well, 
 treated more like a divinity .'' 
 
 " To her face,'' tartly said Grace. " I need not 
 leave this room to find one who made no divinity 
 of me behind my back." 
 
 "I perceive I offend you," said John Owen, 
 prudently oblivious of the incident she recalled.
 
 340 GKACE LEE. 
 
 " No ; but you exaggerate. What though I 
 have been outrageously flattered ! You forget 
 that I did not perhaps receive that flattery as 
 Gospel truth .^^ 
 
 " What matter ; the incense was given to you 
 — where is it now ? '' 
 
 "Wreathing sweetly and gracefully around 
 the feet of some other idol. Let it ! Do I look 
 iroken- hearted ? " 
 
 "Well, you certainly might have too much 
 sense to care for flattery." 
 
 " Might ! " murmured Grace ; — " civil." 
 
 " But were you as indifi'erent to friendship ? 
 When I saw you in this house a sister was with 
 you ; there was a friend, too ; the world called 
 him more than friend. Where are they now ? 
 Married, enjoying the noble fortune that once 
 was yours ; and you are here, comparatively poor, 
 and certainly alone." 
 
 " The fortune has but changed hands," warmly 
 replied Grace, " the friends are but absent. In
 
 GRACE LEE. 341 
 
 justice to them I must enlighten you, Mr. Owen. 
 My marriage with Gerald Lee was the condition 
 on^ which I enjoyed Miss Lee's wealth; that 
 condition I broke of my own free-will, for motives 
 which neither Mr. Lee nor Miss Blount influ- 
 enced. If Gerald Lee/' she added, raising her 
 head, and speaking with mingled dignity and 
 pride, " had betrayed his faith with me, know 
 that I would have compelled him to betray it 
 openly. I might have accepted the wrong, but I 
 would have made him take the shame. If Lily, 
 who, though not of my blood, is dear to me as 
 a sister ; if Lily Blount could have attempted 
 to seduce from me the regard of my affianced 
 husband, I might not, for the sake of womanhood, 
 have proclaimed it to the world, but I should 
 have thought of it in my heart until love died, 
 withered by contempt. And now,'' she added, 
 with a warmer flush on her cheek and a half smile 
 on her lips, '' let me not, whilst justifying Mr. Lee 
 from treachery, place him in the unfortunate 
 
 Q 2
 
 342 GEACE LEE. 
 
 position of a rejected lover. I know lie respected 
 and liked me ; he certainly wished to marry me ; 
 but then — but then — I do not think it broke his 
 heart to lose me. Lily is young; she is fair and 
 beautiful as an angel ; I am dark and plain like 
 a common mortal woman. In short, what 
 wonder is it that he was so soon comforted — 
 and married ?^^ 
 
 " But you ! " said John Owen, looking at her 
 keenly. She laughed freely at his evident mis- 
 trust. 
 
 " I ! ^^ she said, gaily, " well I did not want 
 comfort, did I? Have I not exchanged the 
 hot and barren world for cool and shady 
 solitude j and, pleasanter still, fortune for happy 
 liberty ? '' 
 
 There was a pause, then he said, "I admire 
 you ; T envy you,^^ 
 
 "But you do not half believe in me,'^ she inter- 
 rupted. " Yet Diocletian, the vegetable gardener 
 and tiller of the earth, thought himself a happier
 
 GRACE LEE. 343 
 
 man tlian Diocletian, the master of Rome. By 
 the way/^ she added, rising, " I must show you 
 my garden — yours is shamefully neglected — and 
 try and convert you to flowers. You cannot deny 
 their beauty.'^ 
 
 " Yes, they are lovely weeds enough,^^ he care- 
 lessly replied, following her out through the glass 
 door. 
 
 The evening, though chill, was beautiful and 
 calm. Just above the dark outline of the hills 
 spread a space of light cold and clear as that of a 
 Polar sky. Beyond it vast clouds seemed to 
 repose on their own broad base ; in the west a 
 young crescent moon shone white and pure in 
 blue space. 
 
 " You are bareheaded, you will take cold/^ 
 suddenly said John Owen, pausing. 
 
 " No, thank you. No day is too hot, no night 
 too chill for me. But pray look at my flowers ; 
 colourless and dim though they seem, are they 
 not still beautiful ? ^'
 
 3i4! GRACE LEE. 
 
 He did not reply ; he had truly said it, flowers 
 for him were but lovely weeds. 
 
 Miss Lee went on, still pouring forth on her 
 favourites praise, that fell on a careless ear. As 
 they reached the gate that bounded her narrow 
 domain, she stopped short, and said, " This re- 
 minds me of Madame Helvetius visited by General 
 Bonaparte, and showing him her garden. ' Ge- 
 neral,' she said, as they parted, ' you do not 
 know how much happiness an acre of ground can 
 enclose.' The future Napoleon heard her with a 
 disdainful smile. And you too — though like the 
 master of the world, you have found your Saint 
 Helena — you too, Mr. Owen, would disdain 
 happiness so tame and so easily won. Would it 
 were yours, however, and that the home to which 
 you are now returning, were as calmly happy as 
 that you leave.'' She unlocked and opened the 
 gate as she spoke. 
 
 '^ A cool and civil way of telling me to be off*," 
 rather indignantly thought John Owen. He
 
 GRACE LEE. 345 
 
 noticed too, that in bidding him adieu, Miss Lee 
 did not invite him to renew his visit. She stood 
 by the open gate, however, looking after him. 
 As he turned the path, she called him back. 
 " Mr. Owen.'' 
 
 He looked round, but did not move. She 
 glanced significantly at a pool of wet that lay 
 between them, then at her satin slippers, and 
 said : — 
 
 " I want to speak to you, if you please.'' He 
 came back a few steps. 
 
 " Come again, will you ? " she said, carelessly. 
 
 " Perhaps so," he replied, in tones quite as 
 careless. 
 
 " Perhaps ! No, Mr. Owen, not perhaps ; yes 
 or no, if you please." 
 
 " Oh ! in that case, yes, of course." 
 
 " I do not like, ' yes, of course.' It implies 
 constraint and a bore. Come again if you like it, 
 and if you do not, stay away." 
 
 " Precisely."
 
 846 GRACE LEE. 
 
 "But pray do not hurry, take your time 
 to consider : in the meanwhile, good-night/' 
 He turned away, and she locked the gate. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BBADBUEY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAKS.