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 Beatrice; ^"^' 
 
 OE, 
 
 THE UNKNOWN RELATIVES. 
 
 BY CATHERINE SINCLAIR, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS," " HOLIDAY HOUSE," " SIR EDWARD GEAHAM/' 
 " JANE BOUVERIE," " THE JOURNEY OF LIFE," ETC. 
 
 " If authors must write, they had better compose 
 Their stories too marvellous almost for prose ; 
 Add some incidents, too, which are strange above measure," 
 
 Bath Guide. 
 
 m THEEE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 1852.
 
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 TO ALEXANDER SINCLAIR. 
 
 In attempting to represent the happiness 
 
 of a Protestant family circle, it is impossible 
 *■ for me not to think of that Brother whose 
 
 inestimable friendship makes my home what 
 \ it is : and in delineatino; the advantao;e be- 
 ^^ stowed on Protestants by their free access 
 
 to the Bible, the pleasing recollection is ever 
 v^: before me, how long we have studied its 
 
 pages daily together. Having been hitherto 
 ^ precluded from consulting the Avishes of 
 
 4
 
 IV 
 
 any one on the subject of these volumes, I 
 now request that you and all my family 
 circle will, when for the first time you 
 read this narrative, treat them as you always 
 treat the Author, being " to every fault a 
 little blind." or rather, if possible, com- 
 pletely so. 
 
 September 15, 1852.
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 " But oh ! my soul, avoid the wondrous maze, 
 Where reason lost in endless error strays." 
 
 COWPBE. 
 
 The object of this narrative is to portray, 
 for the consideration of young girls now first 
 emerging into society, the enlightened happi- 
 ness derived from the religion of England, 
 founded on the Bible, contrasted with the 
 misery arising from the superstition of Italy, 
 founded on the Breviary; and in exemplifying 
 both from the best authorities, it has been done 
 with a most careful and most laborious refer- 
 ence to the standard authors of the Enghsh 
 Church, and of the Popish persuasion. 
 
 If an India-rubber quill could be invented 
 to rub out every word that should not be 
 written, the author would be particularly happy 
 to obtain the advantage of it on this occasion,
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 as she never felt more deeply responsible for the 
 use she makes of her own pen, though during 
 many long years it has been her daily fervent 
 prayer that whatever she writes amiss, how- 
 ever good the intention, may be at once and 
 for ever forgotten. Having been much grati- 
 fied lately, and most agreeably surprised, by the 
 very favourable reception given to the volume 
 she recently dedicated to her nieces, " Popish 
 Legends and Bible Truths," in which all the 
 thoughts or anecdotes that seemed more pe- 
 culiarly to bear on the subject of EngHsh 
 Romanism were recorded, the author has been 
 induced to follov/ up the subject by embodying 
 in a fictitious narrative, what she knows to be 
 true, of the irreconcilable hostility wdth which 
 the Itahan school of superstition looks upon 
 the moral principles and domestic peace of a 
 happy English fire-side. As the machinations 
 of Popish emissaries to effect a division of 
 faith and of feeling between families, have been 
 hitherto chiefly directed, and chiefly successful, 
 among ladies, generally very juvenile ones, 
 it is hoped that the author may not be con- 
 sidered presumptuous in attempting thus to 
 warn the young against being ensnared, who 
 have not all had the same sad opportunities as
 
 PREFACE. ^-ii 
 
 herself, to observe the rise, progress, and most 
 calamitous termination of a taste for the 
 excitements of Romanism.^ 
 
 Cardinal Pole offered the Pope in his day to 
 subjugate England by " dealing with the con- 
 sciences of dying men;" but though that plan is 
 by no means now neglected, much more is done 
 in the present time by dealing with the con- 
 sciences of richly endowed ladies. The author 
 can assure her young readers, and she entreats 
 them seriously to consider the statement, which 
 is very seriously and sorrowfully made, tiiat 
 among her own personal acquaintances there 
 are already those who have left their heart- 
 broken parents for ever, those who are now 
 buried in foreign convents, those who have 
 relinquished their beautiful estates, those who 
 have beggared themselves of all they ever 
 possessed, those who are shut up in a lunatic 
 asylum, and those who have died in such a 
 fever of popish perplexity, that the doctors 
 declared, had they lived it would have been ui 
 a state of derangement. 
 
 All this began, like the fall of Eve, from 
 mere unjustifiable curiosity, excited by those 
 who wish to mislead the inquirer. 
 
 * Kaleidoscope of Anecdotes.
 
 viu PREFACE. 
 
 A young girl is induced by a proselyting 
 friend to go and hear the "most delightful 
 music " at a Popish chapel, and to visit in a 
 popish house, where rehgion, she is assured, is 
 the subject of all others that shall never be 
 mentioned to her; and there she becomes 
 acquainted with a Romish priest, who is war- 
 ranted never to allude to religious differences, 
 and who lends her books that she is told any 
 Protestant might read with pleasure. The 
 author was told last winter by a young lady 
 of fifteen, the only child of an esteemed landed 
 proprietor, that when walking with her gover- 
 ness lately in a public garden, they were 
 stopped by a " Sister of Charity," who offered 
 theiu some tracts to read, and said as she 
 presented them, that if they wished for an 
 explanation, they had only to ring at the 
 bell of her convent, and to ask for " Sister 
 Margaret." Some less prudent young ladies 
 might have been tempted by the romance of 
 such an adventure to go, and neither fathers, 
 brothers, nor legislators can adequately protect 
 a girl from such devices unless she also pro- 
 tects herself by avoiding them. As the first 
 step in all such cases is made very easy and 
 agreeable, the author has endeavoured, in these
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 volumes, to exemplify the end to which such 
 begmnings lead. Few young ladies in the 
 whirl of education have leisure systematically 
 to study those important questions, which will 
 now be constantly obtruded unasked on their 
 notice, but Avhich involve the whole happiness 
 for time and eternity of themselves, as well as 
 the whole peace of their parents and relatives ; 
 therefore the author has endeavoured in this 
 narrative, as well as in her previous work on 
 Popish Legends, to place the result of many 
 years' prayerful reading in a small compass 
 before those she earnestly wishes to serve, if 
 they will favour her with their kind consi- 
 deration. 
 
 It is hoped that the strong good sense of 
 English minds may long continue to be their 
 salutary protection against the Church of "Our 
 Lady Star of the Seal" a name much more 
 fit for the Arabian Nights than for Christian 
 teachers, but which is very attractive to young 
 lovers of the imaginative and picturesque, as 
 well as the whole gorgeous paraphernalia of 
 Romish pageantry. The author was favoured 
 with a description lately of a Popish dignitary 
 entering one of the provincial towns of Eng- 
 land in state, the first carriage di*awn by four 
 
 A3
 
 X PREFACE, 
 
 grey horses, and another following. At a levee 
 which ensued the ladies kissed hands ! and 
 the clergymen knelt. Such more than royal 
 homage claimed and bestowed had so be- 
 wilderino; an effect on the imao-ination of some 
 excitable spectators, that several Protestant 
 ladies conformed to this new custom, yielded 
 to this total prostration of female dignity, and 
 kissed the diamond ring, emblematical of 
 popish authority. In return for their almost 
 delirious homage a benignant hope w^as ex- 
 pressed, not very likely to be disappointed, that 
 they shall soon become members of the Popish 
 flock. There is a keen canvass constantly go- 
 ing on to induce young people to attend such 
 dramatic scenes ; the author herself has been 
 frequently invited to witness them ; but the 
 doing so is at a hazard w^hich nothing can jus- 
 tify any one for incurring. There is a strange 
 influence in vast pretensions which few have 
 the moral courage to resist; and if a Grand 
 Mufti of London and Westminster, bringing his 
 diploma, were to appear in England, claiming 
 all the honours due to Grand Mufti-ism, the 
 safest plan would be to avoid him, as those once 
 in his presence, if invited by a card inscribed 
 in large characters '' To meet the Ghaxd
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 Mufti," would feel, if they went, partly pledged 
 to meet him on the terms expected, and would 
 find it very difficult not in some degree to fulfil 
 his expectations of receiving perfectly prostrate 
 reverence. The eff'ect of example, assisted by 
 the influence of a gorgeous dress and a diamond 
 ring, probably led people on the occasion speci- 
 fied into lengths of temporary enthusiasm which 
 they did not previously contemplate; but the 
 kissing of a Popish dignitary's hand, or of the 
 ring that adorns it, if meant as a rehgious act, is 
 a virtual acknowledgment of Papal supremacy; 
 and if as a mere demonstration of drawing- 
 room politeness, the ladies then reverse what 
 has usually been towards them the order of 
 etiquette. Protestant ladies entering such a 
 scene, place themselves in a very false position 
 indeed, by thus assisting to engraft a foreign 
 supremacy as well as a foreign religion on the 
 English tree of civil and religious liberty. 
 
 Those girls who expatiate in joyous freedom 
 along the daisied meadows of England, the sun 
 shining over their heads, and the flowers bloom- 
 ing around their path, would not be easily 
 persuaded to make their permanent abode at 
 the bottom of a coal-pit ; nevertheless if any 
 persons had an interest in persuading them to
 
 XU PKEEACE. 
 
 do SO, the most urgent advice of their best 
 friends would be, not to approach the verge, 
 not to hsten to those who would entice them 
 onwards, and if tempted rashly to descend one 
 step, that they should first look down into the 
 very lowest depths, that they might fully anti- 
 cipate the end from the beginning, and know 
 to what they were consigning themselves. 
 Therefore the author having lost no opportunity 
 to inform herself on the subject, has most 
 humbly endeavoured on the present occasion 
 to raise a finger-post which shall give due 
 warning of a danger impending over every 
 individual girl in England now, to her freedom 
 and her happiness. Not many years ago, the 
 mother of a happy cheerful family, known to 
 the author, expressed a wish, for once, to see 
 all the wonders of the Popish ritual, and after 
 some slight opposition from her Protestant 
 husband, she obtained leave to take her 
 daughters there, and went. Nothing more 
 was said between the parents upon that sub- 
 ject till several months afterwards, when it 
 was unexpectedly discovered that the young 
 ladies clandestinely wore crucifixes. Then the 
 unhappy father, on investigation, to his astonish- 
 ment ascertained that their visits to the chapel
 
 PREFACE. Xlil 
 
 and to the priests had been secretly continued, 
 till his whole family around him had become 
 Papists. He died soon after, literally of a 
 broken heart, his wife and daughters live now 
 in a foreign convent, and his son, relinquishing 
 his whole inheritance, became a Popish priest. 
 Who has not read, with a just indignation, 
 that it was necessary for the Principal of Glen- 
 almond College to pubhsh a letter in the news- 
 papers remonstrating with a Popish priest for 
 clandestinely lending^ books of Romish theoloo^v 
 to his pupils? and in an English public school 
 it was discovered lately, to the inexpressible 
 grief of the parents, that two pupils had been 
 privately perverted by similar means; yet 
 British fathers abroad, placing their children 
 in foreign convents for the benefit of accom- 
 plishments, do so on a mere vague understand- 
 ing that their religion shall not be tampered 
 with ! They might as judiciously dip a 
 white dress into the dyer's vat of black, 
 on the positive assurance that it shall come 
 out white again ! The author could name one 
 young lady of fortune, who was entrusted to 
 the care of a Popish governess, on a solemn 
 agreement that she was never to be spoken to 
 on the subject of religion; but the unfortunate
 
 XIV PRErACE. 
 
 parents omitted to stipulate also that she was 
 not to be lent any books on Romanism, there- 
 fore she had a complete course adaiinistered 
 to her of the most enticing Popish works, 
 which produced their almost inevitable effect 
 in teaching the young pupil to prefer a reli- 
 gion of fancy and fiction to one of sober and 
 truthful reality. She was lately, of course, 
 "received" into the Romish Church. 
 
 The author read a letter, some time since, 
 from an English nun in a foreign convent, 
 mentioning that the Virgin Mary is often seen 
 in their garden, and that one of the nuns had 
 obtained a vision of her there very recently — 
 perhaps, sowing the seeds of Popery ! Such is 
 the result of solitude, sleeplessness, fasting, 
 and a very excited imagination ! 
 
 A relation of the author's printed for pri- 
 vate circulation once, and sent her a copy of 
 the follouing curious narrative : — He was tra- 
 velling on the continent, about fifteen years 
 ago, when, seeing a funeral procession enter a 
 church, he followed to vvitness the solemn rite. 
 On an open bier lay the corpse of a lovely 
 young girl, and beside it stood her sister, 
 whose beauty and grief so moved tlie young 
 Scotchman, that he 2:azed at her earnestlv and
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 mouriifLilly, till quite on a sudden she looked 
 up, and sprung forward, with an exclamation 
 of devout reverence, declaring, in an exstasy 
 of rapture, that she had prayed all the morning 
 to her patron, St. Sebastian, for comfort, and 
 that here he had come in person to console 
 her. The astonished traveller, a shy, reserved 
 man, unaccustomed to Popish visions, felt 
 greatly startled on finding himself thus the 
 subject of one ; but became afterwards so in- 
 terested in the adventure, that he had his own 
 picture done, by an eminent Italian master, in 
 the character of St. Sebastian, which may still 
 be seen in his collection, stuck full of arrows. 
 In the present day, many children are al- 
 lowed no imaginative reading, except on reh- 
 gion. The universal craving which they all 
 have for something supernatural, used to be 
 humoured by allowing their young fancies to 
 expand over the harmless wonders of " Mother 
 Bunch;" but now^ their books of relaxation or 
 amusement consist of conversations on science 
 or on history, — very dry, often, to the young 
 pupil, who sits down with rapture afterwards 
 to read of modern visions and miracles, of 
 guardian angels visibly appearing, of speaking 
 trees and talking birds, of dark rivers flowing
 
 XVi PREFACE 
 
 over golden sands, and miraculous flowers, 
 that droop when a child is naughty, and hold 
 up their heads again as soon as he becomes 
 good. These "very pretty books" have gene- 
 rally a frontispiece, resembUng those prints 
 and images now so sadly in vogue for school- 
 rooms and nurseries, in which a visible guar- 
 dian angel leads a child onwards, " with up- 
 turned eyes," who is evidently walking straight 
 to Rome. These are the fairy tales of the 
 present day, but written with a purpose ; and 
 that purpose is — anything but Protestant ! 
 
 The object of Romanism is, entirely to sub- 
 jugate the will and the intellect ; therefore, as 
 Niebuhr says of the ItaUans, their slavish sub- 
 jection to the Church is "ghastly death." He 
 adds, " I am perfectly correct in saying that, 
 even among the laity, you cannot discover a 
 vestige of piety. The life of the Italian is 
 little more than an animal one, and he is not 
 much better than an ape endowed w ith speech. 
 There is nowhere a spark of originality or 
 truthfulness. Slavery and misery have even 
 extinguished all acute susceptibility to sensual 
 enjoyments; and there is, I am sure, no people 
 on the face of the earth more thoroughly ennuye, 
 and more oppressed with a sense of their own
 
 PREFACE. Xr 
 
 existence, than the Romans. Their whole 
 life is a vegetation/' Thus it becomes with 
 all nations, or individuals, whose misfortune it 
 is to fall under the tuition of Papal tyranny. 
 May English girls long remain in the free 
 and happy exercise of that mental and personal 
 liberty in a domestic home, of which none can 
 deprive them, unless they deprive themselves, 
 by heedlessly venturing among the rocks and 
 quicksands of Romanism, which they will now 
 be often asked to do, probably in a tone of 
 mere jest — perhaps at first to hear, some 
 very fine singing, or to meet some very emi- 
 nent Popish dignitary; but it all turns to 
 very serious earnest at last. A girl who 
 blindly rushes into conventual life, reduces 
 herself to the same state as if every relative 
 God ever gave her had died in a day ; and it 
 were well to pause till she has come to very 
 mature judgment, before venturing beyond the 
 help of old and tried friends, into the power 
 of those who sell and buy pardons for any 
 offence. 
 
 In England, the friends of the most abject 
 criminal, or the most delirious maniac, may 
 gain uncontrolled access to certify that she is 
 treated with kindness and propriety ; besides
 
 XV 111 PREFACE. 
 
 which indispensable protection, the inmates of 
 a prison, or of a lunatic asylum, have the 
 inestimable privilege of being occasionally 
 visited by the authorized Crown officers, to 
 take legal proof that they are either justly or 
 willingly incarcerated ; but a convent is the 
 only spot in her Majesty's wide dominions 
 to which the law of British liberty does not 
 extend. It is better, perhaps, for the com- 
 munity that those whose minds have got into 
 a morbid state, should thus voluntarily im- 
 prison themselves while the delusion lasts, but 
 care should be taken, that if cured, they can 
 emerge into liberty again. In Italy it is con- 
 sidered that where the manners are so dissolute, 
 the only safety for " unprotected females " is 
 in a convent ; but experience has shown, that 
 the propriety of Englishwomen can be pre- 
 served in their own famiHes, without having 
 recourse to solitary imprisonment. The Pro- 
 testants are one great anti-slavery society, 
 anxious to preserve for all men that '' Hberty 
 wherewith Christ makes his people free," but 
 the Papists make their votaries, bodily and 
 mentally, slaves, who buy liberty in this world 
 to sin, and in another world an escape from 
 the punishment of having sinned.
 
 PREFACE. XiX 
 
 A lively author describing his visit, in 1843, 
 to the Ursuline Convent at Cork, says,* " Here 
 I vras in the room with a real live nun, pretty 
 
 and pale I wonder, has she any of her 
 
 sisterhood immured in oubliettes down below ? 
 Is it policy, or hypocrisy, or reahty ? These 
 nuns affect extreme happiness and content with 
 their condition, a smiling beatitude which they 
 insist belongs peculiarly to them, and about 
 which, the only doubtful point is, the manner 
 in which it is produced before strangers. 
 
 '' Is it possible that I shall see a 
 
 nun's cell ? Do I not recollect the nun's cell in 
 The Monk, or in The Romance of the Forest ? 
 or, if not there, at any rate in a thousand 
 noble romances, read in early days of half- 
 holiday perhaps — romances at twopence a 
 volume. Here is the cell. I took off* my 
 hat and examined the little room with mucii 
 curious wonder and reverence. There was an 
 iron bed, with comfortable curtains of green 
 serge. There was a little clothes-chest of 
 yellow wood, neatly cleaned, and a wooden 
 chair beside it, and a desk on the chest, 
 and about six pictures on the wall — little 
 religious pictures ; a saint with gilt paper 
 
 * Titmarsh's Irish Sketch-book.
 
 XX PREFACE. 
 
 round him, and other sad little subjects calcu- 
 lated to make the inmate of the cell think of 
 the suflPerings of the saints and martyrs ; then 
 there was a little crucifix and a wax-candle on a 
 ledge. And here was the place where the poor 
 black-veiled things were to pass their lives 
 for ever ! 
 
 " The poor nun's Convent - museum of 
 gim-cracks was displayed in great state ; there 
 were spars in one draAver, and, I think, a 
 Chinese shoe and some Indian wares in an- 
 other; and some medals of the Popes, and a 
 couple of score of coins ; and a clean glass- 
 case full of antique works of French theology 
 of the distant period of Louis XV., to judge 
 by the bindings, — and this formed the main 
 part of the museum. ' The chief objects were 
 gathered together by a single nun,' said the 
 sister with a look of wonder; and she went 
 prattling on, and leading us hither and thither, 
 like a child showing her toys. What strange 
 mixture of pity and pleasure is it which comes 
 over you sometimes, when a child takes you 
 by the hand, and leads you up solemnly to 
 some little treasure of its own — a feather, or a 
 string of glass beads ! I declare I have some- 
 times looked at such with more delight than
 
 PREFACE, XXI 
 
 at diamonds ; and felt the same sort of soft 
 wonder in examining tlie nun's little treasure- 
 chamber." 
 
 " In the f/rille is a little wicket and a ledge 
 before it. It is to this wicket that women are 
 brought to kneel; and a bishop is in the 
 chapel on the other side, and takes their hands 
 in his, and receives their vows. I had never 
 seen the like before, and own that I felt a sort 
 of shudder at looking at the place. There rest 
 the girl's knees as she offers herself up, and 
 forswears the sacred affections which God gave 
 her ; there she kneels and denies for ever the 
 beautiful duties of her being, — there she kneels 
 and commits suicide on her heart. 0, honest 
 Martin Luther ! thank God, you came to pull 
 that wicked, unnatural altar down." 
 
 " I came out of the place quite sick ; and 
 looking before me — there, thank God ! was 
 the blue spire of Monkstown church, soaring 
 up into the free sky, — a river in front rolling 
 away to the sea, — liberty, sunshine, all sorts of 
 glad life and motion, round about : and I 
 couldn't but thank Heaven for it, and the 
 Being whose service is freedom, and who has 
 given us affections that we may use them — 
 not smother and kill them ; and a noble world
 
 XXU rREFxiCE. 
 
 to live in, that we may admire it and Him 
 who made it — not shrink from it, as though 
 we dared not Hve there, but must turn our 
 backs upon it and its bountiful Provider. I 
 declare I think, for my part, that we have as 
 much right to permit Suttee in India, as to 
 allow women in the United Kingdom to take 
 these wicked vows, or Popish bishops to re- 
 ceive them ; and that Government has as good 
 a right to interfere in such cases, as the police 
 has to prevent a man from hanging himself, 
 or the doctor to refuse a glass of prussic acid 
 to any one who may have a wish to go out of 
 the world." 
 
 Let us concede that suffering, and mental 
 and bodily debasement, are the things most 
 agreeable to Heaven, and there is no knowing 
 where such piety may stop. We shall see men, 
 like Hindoos, with their arms withered up- 
 right in the air, or English faqueers burying 
 themselves alive in their gardens, or attempt- 
 ing to sit upon nothing in the air, — or, 
 like the prophets of Baal, hacking themselves 
 with knives. Can there be any foundation 
 for believing that in this cheerful and beautiful 
 world of God's creation, where every man is 
 an invited guest, surrounded with blessings,
 
 PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 he is bound in gratitude to make himself as 
 miserable as possible, — to chain down his honest 
 thoughts, to mutilate his friendly affections, 
 and to relinquish all his natural enjoyments ? 
 
 A little girl from the convent at New Hall, 
 on a visit once to that of Cork, exclaimed Avith 
 dehghted astonishment on hearing that the 
 Irish nuns were allowed to amuse themselves 
 with making hay. The Maynooth students 
 are expelled if they read a Protestant news- 
 paper.* They begin term with a "retreat'' 
 of a week, which time they are made to pass in 
 silence ; and this silent system, considered too 
 cruel for prison discipline, is acknowledged to 
 be in frequent use for the children at Norwood 
 and other places of Popish education. It has 
 a most crushing effect on the intellect and 
 spirits, producing a bewilderment and pro- 
 stration of mind which prepares the victim to 
 believe anything or nothing, ♦as may be re- 
 quired. If the most acute philosopher tried 
 the rather tedious experiment of gazing in- 
 tensely at a white-washed wall for a week, he 
 would probably find his intellect become at last 
 a perfect carte hlanche ; and yet this is the 
 stupifying process to which children are sub- 
 
 * Titmai-sh's Irish Sketch-book.
 
 XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 jected as a suitable preparation for a life of 
 credulity and seclusion afterwards, when they 
 must learn, both literally and metaphorically, 
 to consider that black is white, in actions as 
 well as in substances, if commanded to do so. 
 Bonacina, a Jesuit author, says, " A mother 
 is guiltless who wishes the death of her 
 daughters, when, by reason of their deformity 
 or poverty, she cannot marry them to her 
 heart's desire." This sentence of death on 
 plain young ladies might alarm some, and 
 should make many pause before they venture to 
 join a sect which forbids men to marry, and at 
 the same lime sanctions any mother in wishing 
 those daughters in another world who are 
 unlikely to marry advantageously in this. 
 The only alternative left is, of course, a 
 convent, that mournful scene of blank deso- 
 lation, terror-struck devotion, and objectless 
 despair. No home-born happiness, sprung 
 from mutual affection, is there — no familiar 
 discussions — no intellectual pursuits — no play 
 of humour, to beguile the lagging hours, to 
 palhate dulness, to adorn existence, to give 
 time a relish, or to occupy an unfurnished 
 mind. No parents or brothers are there, to 
 unite in studying the sacred message of God
 
 PREFACE. XXT 
 
 to each living soul, and to find out new 
 beauties together. The Divine Saviour of 
 man compares the affection he feels for his 
 own people to that of a father or of a brother ; 
 but how can such ties be understood by a 
 lonely nun, frozen into a solitary iceberg of 
 cold-hearted indifference? The nature of a 
 nun is from the hour of her profession to be 
 like no other human nature, after the priest 
 has convinced her that religion is his accom- 
 plice in commanding a life of solitary heart- 
 lessness, of voluntary austerities, of groveUing 
 heathenisms, and of self-inflicted misfortunes. 
 The whole power of the screw is supplied in 
 a convent by the doctrine of blind obedience ; 
 while the hourly repetition from day to day, 
 and from year to year, of the same habits and 
 the same prayers, becomes at last like the 
 rocking of a cradle for putting the mind, 
 heart, and conscience to sleep. 
 
 The early Reformers justly called a confes- 
 sional " the slaughter-house of conscience/' 
 It is well known to have indeed proved so 
 to both priests and penitents, by familiarising 
 them to the contemplation of sin, while each 
 instructs the other in a knowledge of its modes 
 and temptations. A relation of the author's, 
 
 b
 
 XXVI PREFACE. 
 
 who once saw a person fall out of a four-pair 
 of stairs window, said that when vainly en- 
 deavouring to obliterate the scene from his 
 memory, he would gladly give 100/. to forget 
 the sight ; but if forgetfulness could be bought, 
 and if confession be all that is represented, 
 many might willingly give more than double 
 the sum if they could forget all that is taught 
 them in the confessional, and a very advan- 
 tageous bargain it would be. Protestants may 
 sometimes grow old in happy unconsciousness 
 of many vices which are, in a Popish confes- 
 sional, forced on the consideration of the very 
 youngest members of society ; who might often 
 be inclined to say, with the poet Pope, whom 
 Protestants consider wiser than the Pope of 
 Rome, — 
 
 " Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 
 
 Let it be for a moment supposed that the 
 careful mother of a young family resolves her- 
 self to act as confessor to her own children, and 
 feehng some day in a particularly instructive 
 mood, she calls up for examination the eldest 
 inmate of the nursery, a fine, frolicsome, clever 
 boy. Anxious about his morals and religion, 
 she begins with a look of earnest and very 
 ominous suspicion, — " My dear little pet, many
 
 PREFACE. XXVli 
 
 children hide their catechism-book on Sunday 
 mornings, to escape the trouble of repeating 
 it. Have you ever done so ? Your little 
 cousin was sent once to give a blind beggar 
 half-a-crown, but he gave only one of his own 
 half-pence and kept the larger sum to spend 
 on whipping-tops. Did you never do so ? My 
 darling boy, tell me, have you sometimes put 
 your black-leather Bible-cover over a story- 
 book, and made your tutor believe you were 
 studying the one when you were only idling 
 over the other? Such tricks are very often 
 tried, and generally succeed. When I am 
 busily occupied, every day, my dear child, 
 with the housekeeper, giving out stores, do 
 you never slip into your pocket a handful of 
 those delicious French plums on a tray near 
 the door? Do you ever pretend to have 
 a violent cough, that your tutor may give you 
 some of his excellent lozenges, and that he 
 may let you remain away from church ? My 
 own jewel of a boy, tell me truly ; have you 
 sometimes gone without my leave to the 
 grocer's, for a dozen of oranges or a box of 
 figs, and knowing I never could detect you, 
 put them down to my account ?" The greatly 
 enlightened boy, with his eyes now very wide
 
 XXVlll FREPACE. 
 
 open, hurries back to the nursery, thinking 
 what an ignorant good-sort-of-idiot he has 
 hitherto been, and having learned a lesson 
 from his worthy mother, never afterwards to 
 be forgotten, there now arises a most unpre- 
 cedented disappearance of catechisms, sugar- 
 plums and half-crowns, while the affectionate pa- 
 rent exhausts her ingenuity to invent penances 
 for her unfortunate son, and wonders much 
 over the ingenious wickedness of boyhood. 
 
 The author lived totally alone for a week 
 once in her father's old Highland Castle, where 
 finding a copy of Buchan's '' Domestic Medi- 
 cine," she enlivened her solitude by a careful 
 study of all the sufferings incident to the 
 human frame, till, as a natural consequence, 
 she fancied in herself a tendency to every 
 complaint therein described. Had a doctor 
 been within reach to prescribe bleeding, blis- 
 tering, and fasting, she might easily have been 
 made a pitiable hypochondriac for life, and 
 if there were medical men to visit people every 
 day, and to suggest symptoms, there are many 
 now in such perfect health that they scarcely 
 know they have a body at all, who might be 
 persuaded into becoming confirmed invahds. 
 Let it be supposed that Doctor So-and-so sets
 
 PREFACE. XXIX 
 
 up as a ' medical confessor to find out the 
 maladies of those who are well. He calls 
 on one of his healthiest patients, and after 
 solemnly feeling his pulse, looks with anxious 
 scrutiny in his face, saying, — "Do you feel 
 any tendency to a polypus in the nose ?" 
 
 " Not that I know of,'' replies the startled 
 patient ; "how does it begin ? " 
 
 " Have you never felt a tickling sensation 
 at the point ? a great coldness on a frosty 
 day, a burning heat when you sit before 
 the fire, and a great blueness of colour after 
 bathing?" 
 
 " Certainly, doctor," replies the unfortunate 
 invaUd ; " if these be the symptoms, I must 
 confess to polypus." 
 
 " Then let me also examine whether you 
 are in any danger of heart-complaint, as 
 many die before finding out that they have the 
 shghtest tendency. Do you sometimes feel a 
 restlessness when obliged to sit long still, — a 
 tendency to start at any unexpected explosion, 
 — a chilliness in your feet when travelling long 
 journeys, and a considerable irritability at 
 home when contradicted? a great sensation 
 of emptiness before dinner, and a most un- 
 comfortable oppression from fulness after it ? " 
 63
 
 XXX PREFACE. 
 
 " Certainly ; then doctor you think I have 
 heart-complaint," replies the alarmed patient, 
 akeady feeling an unusual palpitation ; " what 
 remedy do you prescribe ? " 
 
 " Let me first ascertain," continues the 
 persevering and judicious medical confessor, 
 " whether you have a tendency to gout. Do 
 you sometimes feel a craving appetite for 
 turtle and venison ? Do you find it necessary 
 afterwards to drink champagne or claret? 
 Have you often restless nights and startling 
 dreams ? Do you feel peevishly irritable after 
 dinner, and as if everything in life were going 
 amiss ? " 
 
 " Doctor, you know me better than I ever 
 knew myself. All these symptoms then prove 
 that I really am about to be afflicted with 
 polypus, heart-complaint, and gout. Am I 
 quite incurable ? " 
 
 '' We shall try the effect of solitary confine- 
 ment, starving, bleeding, physicking, and want 
 of sleep," replies the doctor, rising to go; 
 *'you must watch your own symptoms in- 
 cessantly, and minutely report them all to me 
 every morning." 
 
 Thus a morbid state of mind would very 
 soon be engendered, and while the most
 
 PREFACE. XXX^ 
 
 healthy symptoms of the body might be called 
 by the medical confessor disease, thus also the 
 Popish confessor represents as deadly sins the 
 common use of speech, the free interchange 
 of opinions, the daily intercourse of domestic 
 life, the enjoyment of necessary food, and an 
 unbroken rest throughout the night. He 
 prescribes for the soul starving, scourging, 
 night-watches, prostration of intellect, and a 
 heart dumb to all the friendly intercourse and 
 kind affections of nature. The perfection of 
 Popish virtue was St. Simon standing for 
 twenty years on the top of a pillar. 
 
 When Luther first visited Rome, he ex- 
 pressed himself shocked at the almost universal 
 infidelity of the priesthood; and Blanco White 
 mentions that their chief subject of confession 
 in his time, among themselves, was their total 
 unbelief in any futurity, for which they gave 
 each other absolution ! The Pope is least 
 liked where he is best known, at Rome, that 
 Dead Sea of Popery, where the prayers in 
 church of all classes are described as being 
 heartless and indifferent beyond example.* 
 There the beggar interrupts his muttered 
 devotions to ask for alms, and the shopkeeper 
 
 * Eome • its Edifices and People, p. 203.
 
 XXXii PKEJPACE. 
 
 will rise for a minute from his knees, to offer 
 the passing stranger his card of prices, and then 
 drop down again to his interrupted Ave Marias. 
 But who can wonder at any degree of 
 contempt excited by a superstition which 
 publicly holds up the Bambino, a wooden doll, 
 to a degree of reverential adoration, which 
 makes a Protestant weep for the degradation 
 of human nature itself? When will there be 
 in London such a scene as Mr. Seymour 
 describes at Rome,* where the Bambino has 
 set up its carriage — a grander equipage than 
 that of the Lord Mayor, quite eclipsing those 
 of the Pope or Cardinals ? " Neither the image 
 of the Virgin, nor the consecrated Host itself, 
 ehcit the same degree of worship and prostra- 
 tion as the wooden Bambino at Rome." Mr. 
 Seymour says he felt his blood freeze within 
 him at the awful spectacle of a crowd that no 
 man could number, worshipping that idol. In 
 the midst were the more immediate officials, 
 holding aloft their gigantic torches, and in the 
 centre of these again were the priests sur- 
 rounding the high priest, who held the little 
 image, the wooden Bambino, in his hand. 
 The doll is about two feet in length, not 
 
 * p. 293.
 
 PREFACE. XXXlll 
 
 unlike, except in its attire, the dolls made for 
 the amusement of children in England or 
 France. At least one hundred torches, each 
 in the hand of an ecclesiastic, glittered and 
 flamed around. The monks stood in their 
 places, the ecclesiastics gathered together, the 
 incense was waved, and enwrapped all for a 
 moment in its clouds and perfumes, the 
 military band filled the whole place with a 
 crash of music, and the soldiers of the guard 
 presented arms, as the chief priest lifted the 
 little image — slowly lifted the Bambino, raising 
 it above his head. In an instant, as if the 
 eternal Jehovah were visibly present in that 
 image, among the vast multitude gazing from 
 far beneath, every head was uncovered before 
 it, every knee was bent to it, and almost every 
 living soul was prostrate before it." 
 
 Language seems to fail, when the author 
 would desire to warn the young of her own 
 sex against the very faintest tinge of Popery 
 darkening the horizon of their lives. It may 
 be but as a cloud, no bigger than a man's 
 hand, but soon earth and sky will grow black 
 beneath its shadow. In her own early years 
 the author had aged Christian friends, now low 
 in the grave, who used to tell her that as the
 
 XXXIV PREFACE. 
 
 fulfilment of prophecy in respect to the Jews 
 was one of the most striking evidences of 
 Christianity, so she might with equal certainty 
 expect that there would be about this time an 
 extraordinary revival of Romanism in England. 
 It seemed then to the author as if a miracle 
 could scarcely prostrate the mind of English 
 men and of English women to a belief in Papal 
 infallibility, and to all the degrading conse- 
 quences, moral and intellectual, which that 
 behef involves. She has lived to see, in many 
 mournful instances, her mistake, — she has lived 
 to see, that perhaps her aged friends had in- 
 terpreted prophecy aright, — and she has lived 
 to fear that the warnings of far abler pens than 
 her own will be given in vain. The desire for 
 usefulness, which is the only hope that ever 
 gave activity to her pen, has induced the author 
 to attempt a representation of that pestilence 
 walking in darkness, which seems about to 
 overshadow the happy land of her birth ; and 
 it has been only after many days of hesitation, 
 and many nights of intense anxiety, that she 
 has at length resolved on bringing her opinions 
 thus before the public, as a word in season to 
 the young of her own sex. Many will tell her, 
 and some have done so already, that such sub-
 
 PREFACE, XXXV 
 
 jects are beyond the depth of a female pen ; but 
 as the chief danger threatens the feelmgs and 
 opinions of girls, the author, remembering the 
 days of her own happy girlhood, feels an 
 resistible desire, before following those who 
 then warned and instructed herself, to do for 
 others what was once so affectionately done for 
 her. Many will censure the attempt, — many 
 will call it presumptuous, and some old friends 
 who differ from her will be displeased ; but the 
 author has in many an anxious hour counted 
 the cost with sorrowful anticipation, and yet 
 felt that the happiness she has experienced in 
 a Protestant church is a debt that can be best 
 acknowledged by recommending that greatest 
 of all blessings to others with whom friend- 
 ship, sympathy or relationship may give her 
 any influence. 
 
 When the present Pope took flight from his 
 own subjects, disguised in livery, to Gaeta, he 
 owed his restoration to the Jesuits, to whom 
 he has ever since remained entirely subjected ; 
 therefore, the Romanism propagated in England 
 now is entirely that of Jesuitism. It is a 
 curious coincidence that, in London, the 
 nearest public building to the Popish Cathe- 
 dral is Bedlam ; and those who studv the
 
 XXXVl PREFACE. 
 
 Jesuit doctrines will allow, that there could 
 scarcely be a more appropriate neighbourhood. 
 
 One of the most learned clergymen of the 
 English Church, who died some years ago, left 
 behind him, printed for private circulation, 
 a pamphlet which he spent many years in 
 arranging, and which the author hopes one day 
 to see published for the public benefit. It con- 
 sisted entirely of extracts from the writings of 
 Jesuit authors, verified by a laborious refer- 
 ence to the pages and chapters in each book, 
 and stating in what library at Paris or elsewhere 
 the volumes could be found ; and the whole 
 collection formed a complete revelation from 
 their own words, of their own doctrines and 
 sentiments. Should any of the incidents in 
 the following story be thought over-stated, the 
 author hopes her young readers may one day 
 have an opportunity to compare them with the 
 pamphlet she has carefully studied, and should 
 any lady obtain such an opportunity as she 
 has had to ascertain the full extent of those 
 new principles now progressing in England, 
 she thinks they would require no stronger 
 warning to 
 
 BEWARE OF ROMANISM.
 
 BEATRICE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ** One master grasps the whole domain ; 
 lil fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey, 
 Where wealth accumulate?, and men decay." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 In the year 1820 an excellent bridle-road led 
 to within twenty miles of Clanraarina, a \-illage 
 on the west border of Inverness-shire. It con- 
 sisted at this remote period entirely of low ruinous 
 mud huts, no better apparently than living tombs 
 for their almost starving inhabitants. The little 
 sea-shore hamlet, sheltered among wild, uncouth 
 naked-looking mountains and gigantic cliffs, ap- 
 peared from the far distance like a flock of sheep 
 cowering beneath the hill side, and the spray as it 
 dashed up in tall pyramids on the overhanging 
 rocks seemed for a moment instinct with life and 
 vivacity, the white draperies of foam frequently 
 resembling the apparition of a tall female figure, 
 like the White Lady of Avenel springing up the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 38 BEATRICE. 
 
 precipice, and instantly sinking back into the dark 
 rolling waves which came booming and thundering 
 with sullen roar along the echoing precipices. 
 
 Each humble dwelling at CI an marina, roofed 
 with turf and floored with bare unhewn rock, 
 exhibited a miserable equality of desolation ; and 
 within the whole extent of that wretched village 
 it would have been impossible, probably, to find 
 a single article of luxury, a room pretending to 
 ordinary comfort, or even one entire pane of glass 
 throughout the long row of patched, broken, and 
 slated windows which met the eye, some stuffed 
 with an old blue flannel petticoat, and others with 
 an old hat of the scarecrow species. 
 
 The very few travellers who during these by- 
 gone days hurried through such a scene of in- 
 digence, might have looked in vain for a " rest and 
 be thankful,"" as the only "public-house " in that 
 forsaken neighbourhood carried a notice at the 
 window, intimating the utmost extent of con- 
 veniences it afforded in this stately announcement, 
 — " Bread and Peats sold here." 
 
 '^ The little ■window, dim and drake, 
 Was hung with ivy, breere, and yewe ; 
 No shimmering sun here ever shone ; 
 No halesome breeze here ever blew." 
 
 Strangers could not but wonder to see that 
 human life was actually carried on in a scene of
 
 BEATRICE. 39 
 
 such barren wretchedness, for it appeared as it 
 every natural affection, every cheerful hope, must 
 at once be nipped in the bud at Clanmarina by 
 the stern frost of hunger, poverty, and cold. The 
 wandering traveller could scarcely realize to his 
 own unaccustomed mind that human beings in 
 such hovels actually breathed, and married, and 
 porridged themselves through a long life, from 
 youth to age, till they died as poor as when they 
 were born. 
 
 The village was, indeed, as Lord Eaglescairn's 
 French cook one day contemptuously remarked, 
 " Clanmarina au naturel," for in those dismal days 
 there existed no Highland Destitution Fund to 
 shed its beam of sympathy on the gaunt and fire- 
 less hearth-stones of the shivering natives. If 
 therefore, now and then, the poorest inhabitants 
 dined on sea-weed, or burned their own weather- 
 stained furniture for fire-wood, nobody knew, and 
 still fewer cared. 
 
 All had been so long at a stand-still in the 
 annals of this parish that the neglected villagers 
 grew old in the torpid indolence of hopeless, 
 helpless suffering, too intensely feeling bodily 
 privation to feel anything else. They universally 
 professed the usual Highland antipathy to fishing, 
 they had no cottage allotments of garden-ground 
 in which to dig, and though to beg they might not 
 b2
 
 40 BEATRICE. 
 
 have been ashamed, yet amidst such uniform 
 poverty there existed no hope of obtaining 
 throughout their own neighbourhood more than 
 merely " a penny from the starving man." 
 
 Any poetical imagination that pictures a scene 
 of graceful poverty, should have witnessed the 
 matter-of-fact wretchedness in those mud hovels 
 at Clanmarina, where the natives were as ignorant 
 as they were poor, for the charge of their im- 
 mortal souls had been long consigned to shepherds 
 who cared more for the wool than for the sheep. 
 A Popish priest, Father Eustace, who acted as 
 confessor in the neighbouring family of Lord 
 Eaglescairn, sold indulgences w^hen the Roman 
 Catholics could afford to purchase any, and impo- 
 verished the poorest by his commanding extortions, 
 while the Protestants had for their "minister" 
 Dr. M^Turk, ^' a moderate " in the most mode- 
 rate sense of that expressive term. Though as 
 perfectly solitary and unmarried as if he had him- 
 self been a Popish priest. Dr. M^Turk had that 
 natural craving for money which would have 
 induced him to save for his cat, if he had no 
 nearer relations, and his indolence became such 
 that Sunday after Sunday he lazily read from 
 the pulpit, in regular rotation, twelve successive 
 sermons, in twelve successive weeks, with a da capo 
 at. the end. These manuscripts were now worn to
 
 BEATRICE. 41 
 
 rags, though the nearly obliterated sentences were 
 mechanically stereotyped in his memory, and in 
 the memory of the oldest inhabitants, some few of 
 whom still straggled into their ancient church, 
 feeling a due reverence for the venerable services, 
 even though they had. ceased to reverence the 
 individual, who had once been the object of their 
 enthusiastic choice, who still called himself their 
 pastor, but who became visible to them only once 
 every Sunday in his pulpit, wearing his hat upon 
 his head for the first minute, and then carefully 
 hanging that and his blue great-coat on a nail 
 behind him. 
 
 Dr. M'^Turk's " principal heritor " was the 
 Earl of Eaglescairn, a Roman Catholic peer, who 
 boasted of his Highland property being so bound- 
 less, that instead of measuring it by acres he 
 measured it by square miles, or rather by degrees 
 of latitude and longitude. Proud, cold, and obsti- 
 nate, his immense fortune seemed as naturally and 
 irresponsibly his own as a leopard might consider 
 the spots on his skin, or a peacock the feathers on 
 his tail. Lord Eaglescairn habitually declared and 
 positively believed, that all the misfortunes which 
 befel any individual were *' entirely his own fault." 
 He did not apply to himself the old proverb, "Use 
 every man as he deserves, and who shall escape 
 the lash," but as a substitute for the sympathy
 
 42 BEATRICE. 
 
 which his friends might have anticipated in any 
 unexpected affliction, as well as to justify his 
 entire want of commiseration, he always carefully 
 traced up the pedigree of a misfortune to some 
 blameable cause, and then said wdth a self-satisfied 
 air, " The man richly deserves it !" 
 
 In a somewhat similar spirit, when occasionally 
 venturing into the Highlands and gazing from the 
 window of his magnificent carriage and four at the 
 surrounding country, if Lord Eaglescairn's eye 
 condescended to rest for a moment on the humble 
 village of Clanmarina, he always took the oppor- 
 tunity to express to Father Eustace his utter 
 abhorrence and contempt for that idle unim.prove- 
 able population. Their wTetchedness certainly 
 exhibited a perfect exaggeration of Irish misery, 
 in its most priest-ridden districts, and from the 
 sam.e causes — an absentee proprietor and a resident 
 Popish " Father !" Lord Eaglescairn, considering 
 all the small tenantry as his goods and chattels, to 
 be disposed of at his own pleasure, and caring not 
 a farthing about the condition of his kilted clan, 
 or about the condition of any mortal but himself, 
 consulted Father Eustace at last, whether it might 
 not be desirable and very easy to eject those 
 tenants in Clanmarina who occupied his share of 
 the village. When looking at such tumble-down 
 tenements disfiguring the landscape, it seemed to
 
 BEATRICE. 43 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn perfectly laughable when Father 
 Eustace asserted that these villagers were " at- 
 tached to their homes 1" 
 
 " Impossible ! quite impossible !" replied Lord 
 Eaglescairn contemptuously ; for his own home, 
 abounding as it did in splendid luxury, had so 
 failed to attach him, that he never spent one 
 voluntary hour which could be avoided in Eagles- 
 cairn Castle. " They are mere moles, burrowing 
 in the earth, and like moles also in paying no rent." 
 
 Father Eustace listened with open-mouthed 
 attention, though unavoidably feeling conscious 
 that he reaped from the superstition of these 
 credulous villagers a better rent than Lord 
 Eaglescairn did from their industry, as he had 
 terrified them into paying their little all for an 
 imaginary release from a shadowy purgatory. " It 
 would be a strong measure to eject them," said 
 Father Eustace in a voice almost smothered with 
 respect, " and might require strong measures, 
 which I could scarcely sanction or recommend." 
 
 " Then," replied Lord Eaglescairn drily, " let 
 us arrange that henceforth your whole income 
 shall be derived from my rents in Clanmarina, that 
 I may see how you will realize them." 
 
 " Excuse me, my Lord," replied Father Eustace 
 demurely, " that would mix me up too much with 
 the secular affairs of my people."
 
 44 BEATRICE. 
 
 " Which you would richly deserve for sajing^ a 
 word in their favour ; and they richly deserve what- 
 ever befals them, for being the most good-for- 
 nothing idlers in the kingdom." 
 
 Father Eustace replied only by a dogged silence, 
 and his countenance was soon after restored to 
 that sublime repose and apparent self-composure 
 which was his great aim in society, so that be 
 should look as if a glass of water thrown in his 
 face could not have disturbed him, nor the being 
 swallowed up in an earthquake astonished him. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn did not consider what he him- 
 self "richly deserved" for making London his 
 constant home, to the neglect of all those whose 
 prosperity depended on the sunshine of such help 
 and encouragement as it was his duty, and might 
 have been his happiness, to afford them. There 
 was nothing which the noble peer disliked and 
 despised more than philanthropic schemes and 
 philanthropists, as he often said that the shortest 
 way to relieve the poor would be, to let them 
 dispose of their superfluous children a la 
 Chinoise. His favourite seat was his recently 
 attained seat in the House of Lords, where he sat 
 with ceaseless perseverance playing the game of 
 politics, for an object which he thought his whole 
 existence well spent in attempting to achieve. 
 The prize at which Lord Eaglescairn aimed was,
 
 BEATRICE. 45 
 
 to metamorphose his old coronet of an earldom 
 into the new one of a marquisate. He piqued 
 himself on some blundering knowledge of foreign 
 affairs, while in utter ignorance of his own, and 
 had a sort of heavy eloquence mouthing and sen- 
 tentious, with which he delayed the final division 
 on many a question, of which he in no degree 
 influenced the actual decision. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn had long been a widower with 
 but two sons. Like a true Scotchman, it was his 
 instinctive conviction that whatever he bestowed 
 on his younger son caused an unnecessary diminu- 
 tion of that importance which it was his chief 
 object and his only duty to accumulate for his 
 own future representative in the world, Lord 
 lona. While the whole power of wealth and the 
 whole ingenuity of man therefore were keenly 
 exerted to polish and adorn the young heir of his 
 ancient house into a diamond of the brightest 
 lustre, the second son was treated as a poor de- 
 pendant forced on his bounty, and continued to be 
 known among his relations and friends merely as 
 *' Tom De Bathe, the pleasantest fellow upon earth, 
 and the poorest," being merely a lieutenant in the 
 93d Highlanders, living on little more than his pay. 
 
 When that distinguished regiment was at 
 length quartered at Gibraltar, young De Bathe 
 made himself the observed of all observers by his 
 b3
 
 46 BEATRICE. 
 
 dashing good-humoured adventurous life. He was 
 " flirter of all work" at every ball or picnic, and 
 became unexpectedly the hero of a most romantic 
 adventure at last, by running off from the very gates 
 of the nunnery of St. Bridget with a beautiful 
 Spanish girl, on the very evening w^hen she was to 
 have been forced to take the veil, and embarking 
 with her on board a vessel as it left the harbour. 
 Nothing in Mrs. Radcliffe's romances could have 
 excelled the singular narrative of escapes, dis- 
 coveries, and disguises, which he wrote to Lord 
 Eaglescairn, w^hen announcing his marriage to the 
 most beautiful and persecuted of her sex. In 
 consequence of her wishing to become a Pro- 
 testant, the young bride had undergone unheard- 
 of hardships from her bigoted family, in order to 
 make her consent that while yet in the bloom of 
 her youth she should become immured for life in 
 a silent and solitary cell within the convent of St. 
 Bridget, and it was to give her a pleasanter alter- 
 native that Tom De Bathe hastily rushed into so 
 dashing a scrape as a marriage upon nothing per 
 annum, with a young girl who had made, he 
 thought, a monopoly of every human perfection 
 except fortune. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn glanced over the history of his 
 second son's romantic marriage, written in a style 
 of clever goodhumoured audacity, with burning
 
 BEATRICE. 47 
 
 indignation and speechless contempt. A happy 
 but penniless marriage could have no sympathy 
 or encouragement from him, therefore the stern 
 father ordered that the name of his son should 
 never more be mentioned on any pretext in his 
 presence : all his allowances were immediately 
 stopped, and if letters came to Eaglescairn Castle 
 directed to the Hon. T. De Bathe, they were 
 all returned to the post-office, with a line in Lord 
 Eaglescairn's own hand, saying, *' Not known 
 here." The old peer mistook violence for strength 
 of character, and piqued himself on the intensity 
 and virulence of his hatreds, as well as on their 
 permanence. 
 
 Thus the young couple, Tom De Bathe and 
 his Spanish bride, were at once consigned by 
 both their families to oblivion, such as the living 
 are sometimes more condemned by their rela- 
 tives, than even the dead. Whatever the ena- 
 moured bridegroom might hereafter suffer was, 
 as his father observed with a bitterly scornful 
 smile, " his own fault," and was what he, poor in 
 all other respects, richly deserved. He therefore 
 emphatically called down a curse upon his own 
 head, and that of Lord lona, now his only acknow- 
 ledged son, if either ever consented to see or to 
 benefit the erring pair, or voluntarily to have 
 intercourse with any of their belongings. Under
 
 48 BEATRICE. 
 
 such circumstances it became impossible for Tom 
 De Bathe to meet any longer the expenses of his 
 military career ; therefore, having hurriedly sold his 
 commission, he retreated with his high-born, penni- 
 less, and beautiful young wife, far from the excite- 
 ments of garrison duty, from the annoyance of 
 domestic tyranny, from the magnificent scorn of 
 Lord Eaglescairn, and from the persecutions of 
 Popish and Spanish relatives, into the cool depths 
 of retirement, so retired that even his dearest 
 friend in the regiment. Captain Evan M Alpine, 
 a distinguished officer, who had been the means of 
 converting both Tom De Bathe and his bride to 
 enlightened Protestantism, vainly endeavoured year 
 after year to find out the whereabouts of those who 
 seemed to have relinquished at once every earthly 
 friend and every earthly hope from friendship. 
 
 Half the village of Clanmarina belonged to the 
 uncle of Captain M^ Alpine, a resident Highland 
 proprietor, the chief of his clan, who piqued 
 himself on being cousin to almost every family of 
 distinction in the North, and on being' the most 
 Highland of Highlanders, knowing and caring for 
 nothing beyond the bounds of his own territory. 
 Sir Allan M^ Alpine, being rich, old, and child- 
 less, was, as the usual consequence of having great 
 wealth and little use for it, a miser. He had a 
 monied look not to be mistaken, so that his very
 
 BEATRICE. 49 
 
 shadow should have been in bank notes, and Sir 
 Allan was so greedily avaricious that his veins 
 should have run with gold : — 
 
 " He had abundance, yet enjoy'd it not." 
 
 The only book Sir Allan ever studied was his 
 banker's, being sure that the balance would be 
 always in his own favour. He often jestingly 
 declared that it broke his heart to break the back 
 of a five-pound note ; and certainly, as his two 
 nephews experienced, the love of money cramped 
 his very soul, as well as impoverished his whole 
 existence. He seemed to value the sun itself 
 merely because it saved him candles, and when 
 snuffing out superfluous lights, dining on scanty 
 fare, shivering on a frosty day in his great-coat 
 rather than kindle the much needed fire, and 
 keeping all his grumbling dependants on half-pay 
 and on short allowance, Sir Allan seemed imi- 
 tating the penury in his own house which he 
 refused to alleviate in that of others. 
 
 Family pride had been nurtured by the Chief 
 in himself as the most dignified and praiseworthy 
 of virtues ; nor was it a very expensive one, as his 
 heir being merely a nephew, he could not be 
 expected to do as liberally towards him as if, like 
 Banquo's ghost, he could look forward to a long 
 futurity of greatness for his own posterity.
 
 50 BEATRICE. 
 
 Having ascertained accurately therefore what was 
 the very smallest income on which his two nephews 
 could be maintained in an infantry regiment, he 
 desired that this amount should be paid quarterly 
 to each, and expected in return the strictest 
 economy and the most boundless gratitude. Evan 
 M'^ Alpine soon distinguished himself wherever 
 distinction could be gained ; and though, as the 
 botanist observed of the Duke of Wellington's 
 laurels in India, the plant does not grow there, 
 nevertheless Evan reaped a harvest of them at the 
 siege of Kittoor, and wherever else they were 
 hardest to be won, till at length no knight of the 
 Round Table could have deserved them better or 
 worn them more gracefully. 
 
 Sir Allan's brave and high-spirited young heir 
 might have been appointed Chancellor of the Ex- 
 chequer, he contrived afterwards at his country 
 quarters in Ireland to make his little income go 
 so far in doing good, by educating the soldier's 
 children, by encouraging industry among the pea- 
 santry, and by other deeds of active benevolence ; 
 while his brother Robert, on equally limited means, 
 kept the best horses in the regiment, frequented 
 the gayest houses in the hospitable neighbourhood, 
 and danced with the best partners in every ball- 
 room, at each of which there were among the lively 
 fascinating Irish girls no fewer than half-a-dozen
 
 BEATRICE. 51 
 
 future Mrs. Robert M<^Alpines. They were all 
 perfect Desdemonas for the dehght they took in 
 hearing of the dangers he had passed. Robert 
 M^ Alpine was not one to baulk their taste, for he 
 animatedly fanned the military fever by the most 
 picturesque accounts of sieges, ambuscades, guns, 
 alarums, trumpets, and thunder. 
 
 Sir Allan became of opinion with Lord Eagles- 
 cairn that there are not rods and foolscaps enough 
 in the world for those who deserve them, when he 
 one morning received a ne plus ultra of composition 
 from his nephew in the form of a lengthy epistle, 
 full of perfect felicity, and announcing his pro- 
 jected marriage to Miss Caroline Ambrose, the 
 '^loveliest of her sex." She was evidently, without 
 exception, as without dispute, the most beautiful, 
 accomplished, and every-way-meritorious young- 
 lady who had ever been known to live near the 
 country quarters of any regiment. The fortunate 
 bridegroom described the very colour of her hair 
 to his indignant uncle, who wished it had been 
 grey. She had the best seat on horseback, the 
 finest touch on the piano, and the most brilliant 
 eyes in all Ireland. Her dancing was perfection, 
 and such was her devoted attachment to himself, 
 that she had positively refused one by one each of 
 his brother officers, even the colonel himself, in 
 order to make him the happiest of men. 
 
 UBRARY 
 
 UNlVFt^filTV nc II I t^ntr.
 
 52 BEATRICE. 
 
 No answer was ever returned by the most un- 
 reasonable of uncles to this letter, and it is to be 
 hoped that the young people thought silence gave 
 consent, as not many days elapsed after this first 
 announcement, certainly not a week, before Sir 
 Allan angrily read in the Inverness Journal the 
 marriage in high life of Captain Robert M^Alpine 
 to Miss Ambrose, on which auspicious occasion 
 the six bridesmaids seemed to have been her 
 six sisters. The ceremony was witnessed by 
 five brothers, the clergyman who performed the 
 rite was also her brother, he was " assisted by " 
 her uncle, the Dean of Tipperary. No wonder 
 then that the settlements took a short time to 
 adjust, as the junior daughter of so numerous a 
 colony must obviously have less than nothing, and 
 Sir Allan, furiously crushing up the unoffending 
 newspaper in his hand, declared to his only com- 
 panion, Dr. M^Turk, with a fierce smile, that 
 Robert might melt down all the gold lace on his 
 uniform to live upon before he ever saw another 
 shilling from him. " Who ever imagined," ex- 
 claimed Sir Allan, almost livid with rage, *' an 
 alliance betw^een the ancient house of M'^ Alpine, 
 the most highly descended in Scotland, and a 
 Miss Ambrose I a girl with probably no more 
 aristocracy to boast of than the figure-head of a 
 steamboat ? "
 
 BEATRICE. 53 
 
 " Very true, Sir Allan," replied the doctor, one 
 of those excellent persons who never presume to 
 form an opinion of their own, and he added, de- 
 liberately stirring his toddy, " the young lady, I 
 dare say, has a mere saute qui pent ancestry."" 
 
 " What does that imply, doctor ? " exclaimed 
 the irritable old Baronet in a frenzy, " what can 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " I have not a very distinct idea myself, Sir 
 Allan," replied the doctor indifferently, sipping 
 his toddy, " but during my visit to Lord Eagles- 
 cairn's in London lately, it was indispensably 
 necessary for high life to trim your conversation 
 with French occasionally, so I picked up a few 
 phrases, and I bring them in headlong whenever it 
 is practicable. Lord Eaglescairn quite made a tol 
 au Tent of the conversation, and always came into 
 the room with a sort of * Comment-vous portez- 
 vous ' look, which I rather successfully copied." 
 
 " Well, doctor ! every ridiculous freak is sure of 
 board and lodging in your brain; so I wish you joy 
 of a new one," replied the old Chief, bursting into 
 a fit of triumphant laughter, which almost restored 
 him to good humour. " As for Robert M'^ Alpine, 
 he must live out his days in some hole in the wall ; 
 but \\'ithin the old towers of Cairngorum Castle, 
 none that ever bore the name of Ambrose shall 
 show their plebeian faces till my head is laid
 
 54 BEATRICE. 
 
 lower than it has ever been yet. You look as grave 
 as a tombstone, doctor ; but what would Robert the 
 Second have said to one of his lineal descendants 
 marrying an Ambrose ? I ask you, doctor ! "What 
 would he have said ?" 
 
 " It is difficult now to conjecture," said the 
 doctor, with a comfortable smile, and adjusting 
 his wig; 'Miis Majesty had so many descendants, 
 
 that " 
 
 " But we M*^ Alpines are from the eldest 
 daughter," said Sir Allan, unanswerably, and with 
 a dignified glance round the gallery of family por- 
 traits ; *' I shall yet live to revenge this affront to 
 the old race of M^ Alpine. I am not their Chief 
 for nothing ! Evan has had a whole troop of 
 horses shot under him, and is an heir to be proud 
 of. Let him marry now, as he has so long wished, 
 the sister of Lord Dorchester, his colonel. They 
 could not marry for deficiency of means, and duti- 
 fully waited for my permission. They shall marry 
 now, on a sufficient income, and cut out this 
 chance-medley alliance to the Ambrose dynasty. 
 In my will shall appear a clause, that my heir is 
 to forfeit all the ready money I leave him, if he 
 ever vdllingly admits an Ambrose within the walls 
 of Cairngorum Castle." 
 
 Captain M^ Alpine gladly complied with his 
 uncle's permission to marry Lady Cornelia O'Brien ;
 
 BEATKICE. 55 
 
 but, unfortunately, the old chieftain's desire of 
 excluding the Ambrose dynasty was frustrated 
 by the successive deaths of several children, who 
 inherited a delicate constitution from their accom- 
 plished mother. They were met on the threshold 
 of life by attacks of whooping cougli and measles, 
 which most calamitously thinned the ranks of 
 infantry in the nursery of Captain M*^ Alpine's 
 country quarters, and entirely devastated the 
 wishes of Sir Allan for an heir in the family of his 
 eldest, and, most deservedly, his favourite nephew. 
 If the old Chief had any human sensibility at all, 
 it was concentrated in a sentiment of attachment, 
 and even of respect, for that very distinguished 
 young officer, the bravest and most generous of 
 subalterns ; but his family pride and family affec- 
 tion did not amount to the purchasing his majority 
 in the regiment, then about to fall vacant. Had all 
 Sir Allan's gold been in California, or had it been 
 turned into slates, he could never have missed it, 
 in so far as the spending or enjoyment might have 
 gone, nor would any mortal have been the worse, 
 excent once a-year — and onlv once — when a 
 splendid paragraph adorned every Scottish news- 
 paper, and occasionally wandered even into those 
 of London, announcing that " Sir Allan M'' Alpine, 
 with his usual munificence, had forwarded the 
 sum of 51, to be distributed among his poorer
 
 56 BEATKICE. 
 
 tenantry at Clanmarina, by their excellent and 
 exemplary minister, the Rev. Donald M^'Turk." 
 
 Why Dr. M*^Turk had never yet received the 
 usual testimonial of a watch and appendao^es, from 
 his " grateful and attached congiegation," or a 
 gown and pulpit-bible from the ladies, it were 
 hopeless to conjecture, though in the mind of one 
 modest, meritorious individual, the unaccountable 
 omission became a subject of ceaseless wonder. 
 The worthy minister, in a diary which he kept for 
 no eye but liis own, recorded his thoughts on 
 the subject in a manner to touch the hearts and 
 consciences of survivors, when, as a matter of 
 course, it should hereafter be published. In his 
 still more private, solitary cogitations, he thought 
 himself precisely the sort of man who does, in this 
 best of all possible worlds, generally receive a public 
 panegyrical dinner, followed by speeches and plate. 
 Like everybody else in the creation, Dr. M'^Turk 
 believed his own case to be one of peculiar hard- 
 ship, in being shamefully under-rated by a mis- 
 judging world. " But," thought he, determined 
 to be consoled, " true merit never is appreciated 
 in our profession, until we depart, either by death 
 or translation." 
 
 Death tested the merits of the old minister and 
 of the old Chief about the same period, for in 
 August 1829 they both drank their last tumbler
 
 BEATRICE. 57 
 
 of teddy together, and during September follow- 
 ing an advertisement appeared in the newspapers, 
 announcing the " Memoirs of Dr. M'^Turk," in 
 seven volumes crown-octavo, collected from his 
 private diary and confidential letters, with a por- 
 trait and autograph. From the account of his 
 preaching it became evident that the greatest of 
 orators might have been improved by hearing him, 
 and the best of men got a lesson from his virtues. 
 It was obvious, in short, that had Dr. M^Turk 
 lived for ever, he might have rivalled Blair or dis- 
 covered the philosopher's stone. Memorandums 
 of his death-bed sayings were taken down on the 
 spot, by an inconsolable cousin, who, being sum- 
 moned to the spot after an estrangement of thirty 
 years, wrote a heart-rending letter of grief and 
 admiration at the conclusion of the last volume, 
 and who, having thus complied with every direc- 
 tion in the will, then deservedly succeeded to all 
 the doctor's savings, amounting to about 9,000/. 
 
 Old Sir Allan M'' Alpine's unexpected death 
 was of no more personal concern to the survivors 
 around than if a hack cab had been suddenly 
 called from the stand where it once occupied a 
 place ; but most magnificent were the melancholy 
 festivities which took place at his funeral, while 
 his tenants endeavoured to look as sober and heart- 
 broken as circumstances required. The great old
 
 58 BEATRICE. 
 
 venerable gate swung open, the leopards rampant 
 which surmounted the pillars, one headless, and 
 the other with his paw broken off, appeared more 
 suitably dismal than the clansmen flocking with 
 excited looks to the long-forsaken castle, and the 
 immeasurable line of gloomy fir-trees groaned in 
 the blast, while bagpipes which had not been 
 inflated for half a century played in doleful strains 
 *' The M'^ Alpines' Lament." Lips which had not 
 for years tasted whisky, w^ere now regaled at 
 Cairngorum Castle with brimming bumpers, and 
 there were some old veterans among these poor, 
 ignorant, neglected, half-starving clansmen at Clan- 
 marina, who followed old Sir Allan's remains to 
 their last home, not only with solemn features, 
 black habiliments and downcast eyes, but also 
 with a feeling of secret self-reproach, that they did 
 not grieve more in earnest for so great a man as 
 " The Chief of M^ Alpine ! " 
 
 " Good people all, of ev'ry sort, 
 Lament for Madame Blaize, 
 TVlio never wanted a good word 
 From those who spoke her praise. 
 
 " Let us lament in sorrow sore, 
 For Kent-Street all may say, 
 That had she lived a twelvemonth more, 
 She had not died to-dsij. " —Goldemith.
 
 BEATRICE. 59 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " The wild-flowers spring amid the grass, 
 And many a stone appears, 
 Carved by affection's memory, 
 Drench'd with affection's tears." — L. E. L. 
 
 In less than a week, Sir Allan, throughout all 
 the wide domains in which he had, during half a 
 century, reigned as master, was no more missed 
 than an old moon, or a dead sparrow. " His name 
 was never heard !" 
 
 Nearly every figure was changed now on the 
 magic-lantern of life at Clanmarina. The eldest 
 son of Lord Eaglescairn, at all times the most 
 unbrotherly of brothers, being on a cruise on 
 board his own yacht, the Aurora, in the Mediter- 
 ranean, where he cared for nothing, apparently, 
 but which way the wind blew, wrote a few hurried 
 lines to his father one day, announcing that his 
 brother Tom had died of a fever at Corunna ; and 
 he understood from good authority that " Mrs. 
 Tom," as he called her, " the Spanish wife," had 
 now retired inconsolable to the convent of St. 
 Bridget, from which his brother's imprudent and
 
 60 BEATRICE. 
 
 short-lived marriage had been intended benevo- 
 lently to rescue her. 
 
 Not many months after this intimation, the 
 Marquis of Eaglescairn was thunderstruck at re- 
 ceiving a letter from the captain of his son's yacht, 
 announcing that Lord lona, the heir of his re- 
 cently-acquired marquisate, had died of malaria- 
 fever at Rome, after a few days' illness. If Lord 
 Eaglescairn, when thus left sonless, felt or said 
 that he ** richly deserved it," his sufferings under 
 the blow were not of long duration. Having over- 
 eaten himself, after being exhausted by a long 
 Popish fast, Lord Eaglescairn suffered a fatal 
 stroke of apoplexy next day; and, soon after, 
 two gorgeous hatchments on the family residence, 
 in Grosvenor Square, announced the total extinc- 
 tion of that branch which he represented in the 
 ancient tree of De Bathe. Lord Eaglescairn, in 
 his last moments, had frantically called for his 
 solicitor, and spoken in almost delirious accents of 
 a letter fromx his son Tom, whom he adjured to 
 write once more, — to tell him all, and not yet to 
 despair of his pardon ; but the servants, to whose 
 care he was committed, paid no attention to what 
 they considered the ravings of fever, till at length 
 the scene of mental and bodily sufiering closed in 
 death. 
 
 Very distant indeed was the cousin who now
 
 BEATRICE. 61 
 
 emerged from obscurity to succeed to the ancient 
 family of Eaglescairn. The new Peer had begun 
 life as a rollicking barrister in London, celebrated 
 for his eloquence and ready wit in the courts of 
 law; but a brilliant speech of his, on a question 
 connected with Church affairs, having failed to 
 gain the cause he advocated, Mr. De Bathe became 
 disgusted with the world, and, in an impulse of 
 pique at not being able to carry the Church his 
 own way, he quarrelled with it altogether, sud- 
 denly associated himself with the Jesuits, and re- 
 tired to one of their institutions near Bath. On 
 the death of Lord Eaglescairn, he left Prior Park, 
 to assume the high position which now so unex- 
 pectedly awaited him ; and, as there is nothing 
 people become so soon accustomed to as good for- 
 tune, the new lord soon felt as if he had never 
 been otherwise than Lord Eaglescairn. The gos- 
 sipping world continued to exclaim, with ceaseless 
 wonder, at the extraordinary vicissitudes of for- 
 tune in the family of Eaglescairn, long after the 
 innkeepers had substituted the new peer's portrait 
 for that of the old one over the alehouse door, and 
 long after the new lord had ceased to wonder at all. 
 
 Accompanied by the Spanish Jesuit, Father 
 Eustace now his appointed confessor, by another 
 priest *' his director," and by a detachment of mis- 
 cellaneous priests from Prior Park College, the 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 62 BEATKICE. 
 
 new Earl of Eaglescairn proceeded to take im- 
 mediate possession of Eaglescairn Castle. His 
 Countess, very bigoted and unapproachably deaf, 
 accompanied him there, as she had returned from 
 abroad, to preside for life over the priestly esta- 
 blishment. Contrary to the Jesuit principles which 
 he admired, the new peer had been tempted into 
 marrying a beautiful but silly wife, who had gone 
 abroad with their only son, now Lord lona. 
 
 If the Papists be right in considering it a crime 
 to marry, as well as to read the Rible, Lord Ea- 
 glescairn had done penance through life for having 
 committed it, as the beauty of his bride soon va- 
 nished in his estimation, and her silliness seemed 
 daily to increase, though it found an ample vent 
 abroad, in attending all the gorgeous processions 
 and image worship of Rome, to which, wdth her 
 sister-in-law, Lady Stratharden, who believed her- 
 self still a Protestant, she became most ardently 
 devoted. 
 
 At Clanmarina a Popish chapel was immediately 
 reared, large enough to contain much more than 
 double the population of the entire hamlet; where 
 the ignorant villagers were summoned, several 
 times a-day, to hear Latin prayers inaudibly mut- 
 tered, and where they learned only the bodily 
 exercise which profiteth nothing, to wear scapulars 
 round their necks, to kneel before a wooden image
 
 BEATRICE. 63 
 
 of St. Benedict, and to count their beads, amidst a 
 perfect toy-shop of trifles and trinkets, relics and 
 rosaries. No rational education, nor intellectual 
 piety, accompanied the injunctions laid on these 
 poor deluded peasants to buy expensive indul- 
 gences and perform laborious penances, both of 
 which combined to keep them in hopeless degra- 
 dation of mind, as well as in most thoroughly 
 pillaged poverty. 
 
 Face to face, though several miles apart, the 
 towers of Cairngorum Castle overlooked those of 
 Eaglescairn; and two more noble residences could 
 scarcely have rivalled each other throughout the 
 Highlands. Opposed in both religion and politics, 
 the two families had for centuries lived and died 
 on terms of the very barest civility. The new 
 Chief of M^ Alpine, Sir Evan, when he left the 
 93d regiment, regretted and respected to the ut- 
 most pitch of human reverence by every officer 
 and by every private in the corps, seemed more 
 unlikely than any of his predecessors to amalga- 
 mate with a representative of the narrow-minded 
 and bigoted old Earls of Eaglescairn who had 
 evidently inherited all the gloomy superstition and 
 austere ideas of his ancestors. Yet the chief made 
 a proper distinction between families in which 
 the Romanism was hereditary, like some old- 
 established Papists around, and those, like Lord 
 c2
 
 64 BEATRICE. 
 
 Eaglescairn, in whom it had recently arisen, from 
 vanity, love of power, and love of excitement. 
 
 Bright indeed should have been the bonfires, 
 and \\arm the reception given to Sir Evan M^ Al- 
 pine, when he arrived to take possession of Cairn- 
 gorum Castle, could his fortunate tenantry have 
 conceived how eminently the excellent Chief, now 
 about to reign among them, was both able and 
 willing to render himself deservedly beloved in 
 every rank. Since the almost fabulous times of 
 the Red Chief and the Black Chief, whose frown- 
 ng portraits adorned the walls of Cairngorum 
 Castle, the clan M^ Alpine had been pre-eminent 
 for their devoted attachment to the old family; 
 and now, did not the echoing hills bare witness to 
 the Highland enthusiasm with which his numerous 
 tenantry welcomed their brave young soldier-chief, 
 already so distinguished, to the halls of his ances- 
 tors ? Happy Clanmarina ! No language could 
 have described, no heart anticipated, a tenth of 
 the benefits now about to be showered upon his 
 tenantry by Sir Evan, — true benefits, coming as 
 they did from the best of heads, as well as from 
 the best of hearts, — a heart glowing with long- 
 cherished feelings of family attachment and of 
 hereditary association : — 
 
 " His way once clear, he forward shot outright, 
 Not turn'd aside by danger or delight."
 
 BEATEICE. 65 
 
 Sir Evan, having become recently a widower, 
 was accompanied by his aunt, the sister of his 
 mother, Lady Edith Tremorne, a "good old Eng- 
 lish gentlewoman," the almost jointureless widow 
 of an excellent Devonshire clergyman. Her deep 
 resignation, amidst many successive sorrows, had 
 gained her the respect of all; and the courteous 
 dignity of her manner was in unison with the 
 elevated cast of her countenance, her silvery hair 
 shading a pale, high forehead, and her widow's 
 cap, which she never ceased to wear, harmonizing 
 well with the subdued pensiveness of her clear, 
 dark eyes, which spoke not of happiness, but of 
 cheerful resignation. When, with his habitual 
 consideration for others. Sir Evan, in a tone of 
 friendly sympathy, invited the lonely widow to 
 reside in his house, he said to her, in his kindest 
 of tones, which sank into her grateful heart for 
 life, " Remember, Lady Edith, whenever you say 
 that you are going home, that now means that 
 you are coming to Cairngorum Castle." 
 
 Sir Evan, having thus unexpectedly attained to 
 a step without purchase, which his honoured imcle 
 did not intend for him so soon, stepped into the 
 unencumbered possession of a most extensive ter- 
 ritory, as well as to the accumulated hoards of a 
 parsimonious miser. As his brother Robert's regi- 
 ment was about this time under orders for India,
 
 66 BEATRICE. 
 
 the first act of Sir Evan was to purchase him pro- 
 motion in the regiment; and also, remembering 
 how often he and his brother had lamented the 
 tightness in the money-market of their uncle, to 
 request that the education and charge, in all 
 respects, of his young nephew, might, during his 
 brother's absence, be entrusted to his care. 
 
 This proposal was received, as it deserved, with 
 unutterable gratitude by the young captain, and 
 with a volley of warm-hearted Irish thanks by 
 Mrs. M'^ Alpine, formerly the objectionable Miss 
 Ambrose, who seemed bent on pouring out all her 
 feelings at once, so that, like a spent volcano, 
 nothing should be left behind. The best reward to 
 Sir Evan's truly kind intentions on behalf of the 
 boy was when he first heard the clear, ringing, 
 joyous tones of his enraptured young nephew, on 
 his arrival at Cairngorum Castle for his Highland 
 holidays, escaped from a Yorkshire school, where 
 little boys under nine were made as learned and 
 as miserable, by cramming their minds and stai-v- 
 ing their bodies, as could be contrived for twenty 
 pounds a-year. 
 
 Young Allan M^ Alpine, at half-past eight years 
 old, had a countenance radiant witli health and 
 with the lustre of a joyous spirit; yet there was 
 an evidence of latent sensibility, amounting almost 
 to a painful extreme, in the expression of his deep
 
 BEATRICE. 67 
 
 blue eye ; while his clustering curls shaded a brow 
 as open and intelligent as ever adorned the coun- 
 tenance of youth. His dress was picturesque, the 
 style being chiefly borrowed from the Highland 
 garb ; and his figure, the very perfection of child- 
 ish grace and even dignity, was tall and slightly 
 formed. 
 
 The power of rendering others happy was, from 
 this time forth, the measure of Sir Evan M*' Al- 
 pine's wishes, and a spirit of generous self-sacrifice 
 for the common good, his ruling principle. He 
 and Lady Edith Tremorne had a deep reverence 
 and love for human nature generally, and a keen 
 desire to cultivate human excellence around them, 
 as well as to give sympathy and consolation through 
 the deep sorrows of this mortal life, to the afflicted. 
 While considerately administering to all the homely 
 miseries of the vulgar, and their pleasures too, Sir 
 Evan took the opportunity of speaking much with 
 friendly feelings on every subject of common con- 
 cern to his clansmen, who invariably found that 
 his words of considerate interest were followed by 
 his deeds of liberality. He allotted gardens for 
 the industriously inclined, built schools, esta- 
 blished singing classes, and improved their dwell- 
 ings. He encouraged every sort of rural sport 
 among his dependants, and promoted whatever 
 added to the general cheerfulness without leading
 
 68 BEATRICE. 
 
 to excess ; for in a spirit of majestic and truly en- 
 lightened faith, Sir Evan was desirous that every 
 rational, as well as every religious want, should be 
 judiciously, though gradually, supplied. 
 
 " Say not, the world runs smooth, while right below 
 Welters the black fermenting heap of life." 
 
 In the new Chief's mind there had arisen a 
 pleasing consciousness of his power to do good 
 among his impoverished clansmen, and a fervent 
 desire to do it well. Nothing excited him so 
 pleasantly as to conquer difficulties ; and that he 
 might obtain the best assistance in his great 
 objects, he frankly claimed the good offices of 
 both the Rev. Dr. Macfarlane, the excellent pres- 
 byterian incumbent of the parish, and his truly 
 pious, amiable wife ; also, of Mr. Clinton, who 
 officiated in that neighbourhood in the very small- 
 est of episcopal chapels, to the very smallest im- 
 aginable congregation, on the very smallest of 
 stipends. No one could believe, if the amount were 
 here confidentially named to him, that a gentleman, 
 educated in a university, could attempt to exist 
 on such a mere atom of income ; but Mr. Clinton, 
 young, energetic, and enthusiastic, seemed to have 
 no personal expenses, and while achieving impossi- 
 bilities, a surplus always remained, with which, 
 by denying himself luxuries, he supplied neces-
 
 BEATRICE. 69 
 
 saries to the sick and afflicted. When Sir Evan, 
 on his accession, more than doubled the well- 
 bestowed income of Mr. Clinton, he married 
 an amiable, intelligent young lady, who had long 
 been engaged to share his poverty with him, as 
 soon as they could muster a sufficiency to exist 
 upon together ; and the domestic happiness which 
 ensued was best exemplified by the hand-in-hand 
 diligence with which Mr. and Mrs. Clinton united 
 in uprooting the tangled weeds of ignorance around 
 their little parish, and in pursuing a succession of 
 most beneficial plans for the general good. If a 
 clergyman's wife be well chosen, she is not onK 
 the best of friends, but the best of housekeepers, 
 and the best of curates ; but never was there a 
 more beautiful exemplification of the country 
 parson and his helpmate, than in *' the little rec- 
 tory," as Sir Evan called it, of Clanmarina. 
 
 Mr. Clinton's sermons were full of homely kind- 
 ness, clear doctrine, and strong good sense ; while 
 no one ever had a more sociable way of working 
 his parish, being on terms of intimate association 
 with every family belonging to his congregation ; 
 for he was ever ready to say, in the spirit of Dr. 
 Chalmers, " Oh that I could get fairly into contact 
 with the souls of my parishioners!" Every Satur- 
 day afternoon, Mrs. Clinton invited some of the 
 most pious and intelligent of their neighbours to 
 c3
 
 70 BEATRICE. 
 
 spend the evening with her, and to take " tea-pot 
 luck ; " \^ hile Mr. Clinton, with his fine, solemn, 
 benevolent voice, read aloud some instructive 
 work, and the ladies occupied several hours in 
 making clothes for the destitute poor ; so that 
 very soon tlie ragged school looked no longer 
 ragged. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clinton had, for several years, no 
 family ; but in the course of time, two fine, high- 
 spirited little boys were born, who became, in after 
 years, quite an ornament to the village, with their 
 bright smiling eyes, their boyish laughter, and 
 their active charity — for in every good work their 
 parents allowed them, as the happiest of privileges, 
 to share. Who does not feel the dehght of being 
 useful ? and to children, from the very earliest age, 
 the consciousness of becoming so brings a glow of 
 warm-hearted happiness. 
 
 Lady Edith enjoyed beyond measure attending 
 Mrs. Clinton's tea-parties, which took place in 
 summer amidst the hum of bees and the song of 
 blackbirds beneath a splendid old walnut-tree in 
 the garden ; and though the manufacture of tartan 
 kilts and petticoats was, at first, very savage work 
 for her delicate English fingers, yet she had a 
 heart and intellect to appreciate at its inestimable 
 worth the opportunity of so much intellectual and 
 moral improvement. Mrs. Clinton seemed at all
 
 BEATRICE. 71 
 
 times to be present everywhere, especially where 
 she was most wanted ; and no subject which could 
 add to her husband's usefulness or happiness was 
 above or below her attention. From the time of 
 her marriage arose an insensible air of elegance 
 around the small habitation of Mr. Clinton, such 
 as the finger of taste, even when unaided by wealth, 
 can produce. Roses crept up the wall, and thrust 
 their scarlet faces in at every window, and wood- 
 bines shed their fragrance around the doors ; vari- 
 ous little fancy-works adorned the table, and 
 sketches of the neighbouring scenery, done by her 
 own hand, were suspended around the cheerful 
 little sitting-room. Mrs. Clinton carried broth to 
 the poorest, and medicines to the sick ; she taught 
 needle-work to the girls ; and read the Holy 
 Scriptures to all who were desirous of hearing 
 them, in their own dwellings ; but it never oc- 
 curred to her as being necessary to assume any 
 peculiar dress or nunlike uniform in which to do 
 good. She desired only to be a Protestant sister 
 of charity, attached to many a dear domestic duty 
 which no Popish superstition had ever taught her 
 to despise, and firmly believing with the Apostle 
 that it is a false religion which consists in " abstain- 
 ing from meats and forbidding to marry." 
 
 " Strange ! " she said, one day after receiving 
 directions from her husband respecting some parish
 
 72 BEATRICE. 
 
 duties, — " how very strange, that there can be a 
 religion professing to be founded on the Bible, or 
 rather a superstition, which would forbid such a 
 union as ours ; when both God and nature declare 
 that it is not good for man to be alone. How on 
 earth could you get on without me, Edward?" 
 
 " Not very well ! " replied Mr. Clinton, smiling, 
 and then more gravely adding in a tone of deep 
 reflection, " Tt is remarkable that the only church 
 professing to be Christian, which has forbidden 
 God's ordinance of marriage, is the only one which 
 propagates the blasphemous legend of the marriage 
 of St. Catherine." 
 
 Among the younger guests who were welcomed 
 to Mrs. Clinton's little tea-parties, one of the most 
 useful and respected was Robert Carre, son of a 
 small farmer on the hill-side, who came from his 
 distant home with an elasticity of step and anima- 
 tion of countenance which enlivened all who saw 
 him. This intelligent youth had early shown a 
 singular genius for literature, and was peculiarly 
 alive to the importance as well as to the delight 
 of studying sacred subjects, to do which, without 
 neglecting other duties, he often sat up half the 
 night. Some of Robert Carre's school-boy verses 
 had been truly beautiful, especially those addressed 
 to the young village beauty, Bessie M'^Ronald, 
 ** The White Rose of Clanmarina," as he called
 
 BEATRICE. 73 
 
 her, a niece of Sir Evan's old military servant, and 
 one of the loveliest girls, scarcely out of her child- 
 hood, that the eye of a poet ever looked upon. 
 Robert Carre, when his verses were praised by 
 Lady Edith, modestly replied, with deepening 
 colour and in perfect sincerity, that his taste in 
 poetry was only sufficient to show him the in- 
 feriority of his own to what he found already in 
 books, and that therefore, leaving the pursuits of 
 imagination for those who had more leisure and 
 genius, his ambition was to become useful among 
 his neighbours. His plain working jacket showed 
 off to advantage a figure so light, so almost gentle- 
 man-like and active, that it seemed as if to him 
 nothing could be an exertion, and his handsome 
 weather-beaten complexion and features were a 
 perfect model of rustic good looks. 
 
 Lord Eagiescairn being about this time in want 
 of a secretary, offered the situation to young Carre, 
 of whom he had heard the very highest character, 
 and proposed to give him 100/. a-year. He even 
 pressed the offer upon his acceptance, with the pro- 
 mise that his salary should be on a sliding scale, to 
 rise from time to time as his services continued ; but 
 the proposition was most respectfully declined, on 
 the score of that difference in religion which raised 
 an insuperable obstacle to his entering any situ- 
 ation, however in other respects desirable. This
 
 74 BEATRICE. 
 
 repW, o-iven with the most guarded civility, Lord 
 Eaglescairn never afterwards forgave. 
 
 From this time Robert Carre continued with 
 cheerful industry, and as frank and honest a heart 
 as ever beat, to assist his father in the cultivation 
 of their little farm, which he spared no labour to 
 improve. Though noticed and associated with by 
 all the first fanners and freeholders in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he never felt any false shame in being 
 seen by them holding his father's plough, or digging 
 up his father's potatoes, for he gloried in the 
 most laborious rural occupations. He had a pride 
 in every exertion connected \vith the affairs his 
 father confided to him, while his habits of fair 
 dealing, both in speech and in trafiic, became 
 proverbi il among all around. Not a flaw in the 
 fences at Daisybank, nor a defect in the soil es- 
 caped his attention, and what had once been a 
 most forlorn looking garden, became under his care 
 at last a brilliant rainbow of flowers hemmed in by 
 a hedge of hollyhocks, lilacs, and laburnums. 
 
 Many a bouquet which might have been envied 
 at Almack's was carefully cut by young Carre as 
 an offering to Bessie ^PRonald, who received the 
 dewy roses and lilies with a blush and a smile 
 that eclipsed them all. Robert also helped her to 
 adorn the little window of her mother's cottage 
 with a few gaudy geraniums, supplied her with
 
 BEATRICE. 75 
 
 poultry and pigeons, by the rearing of which she 
 made some little profit, as well as gained much 
 enjoyment, and he taught her to cultivate many of 
 the more useful vegetables in her mother's little 
 " yard." Thus industry supplied the place of 
 Aladdin's lamp, and few young men ever were 
 happier than Robert Carre, who occupied all his 
 leisure as a Scripture reader among the poor. 
 
 '* 1 have no wish," he one day said, " to be a 
 mere half-quarter gentleman, and cannot afford the 
 luxury, if it is a luxury, of idleness." 
 
 " Times seem daily growing better with you, 
 Robert," said Lady Edith, overhearing hi;ii, "and 
 the best of it is, that they are made better by 
 your own honest and most respectable industry." 
 
 The young farmer's intelligent countenance 
 glowed with pleasure at these few words from the 
 person he reverenced most in the world, and they 
 remained long afterwards pleasingly engraven on 
 his memory and in his heart. 
 
 Soldiers at a review often have a mock fio^ht on 
 the most friendly terms, but when a real enemy 
 appears, they unite at once in contending for life 
 and liberty. Thus there had been, during some 
 years, a good-humoured emulation in active bene- 
 volence on tiie part of the excellent parish minister 
 and his wife towards the Clintons, whom they 
 naturally looked upon as interlopers, but '* no 
 wars on faith prevented works of love^" and whe
 
 7 ) BEATRICE. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn arrived in the neighbourhood, 
 surrounded by a priestly conclave, zealous to ex- 
 tend their Popish influence throughout the parish 
 of Clanmarina, the friendly toleration which had 
 always subsisted betw^een these two excellent fami- 
 lies became riveted by the bond of a common 
 interest, and a common fear on account of the 
 souls under their charge. 
 
 Wherever a priest could gain admission, there 
 he was sure to be found, in the hitherto quiet 
 little village, and while Dr. Macfarlane had long 
 united with Mr. Clinton in educating the hitherto 
 neglected Roman Catholics, and in exhorting the 
 poor to purchase Bibles for themselves, the Papists 
 were teaching them to abjure the Holy Word of 
 God, and rather to purchase fictitious indulgences 
 from them, though these poor deluded people were 
 somewhat perplexed when old M^ Ronald asked, 
 " If you give sixpence to your priest to grant you 
 a pardon, who does he give his sixpences to for the 
 pardon that he as a sinner himself must require ?" 
 
 Instead of paying for giving a good education to 
 their cliildren, the poor tenants of Lord Eagles- 
 cairn were advised to pay for giving masses to the 
 dead, and they were invited, instead of subscribing, 
 as many had lately done, to the Society for Pro- 
 pagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, to unite in 
 endeavouring to suppress it at home. 
 
 Father Eustace, in short, took the utmost pains,
 
 BEATEICE. 11 
 
 as Popish priests generally do, to teach that the 
 Bible saying any one thing very distinctly was 
 a sure sign that it meant something perfectly 
 different. 
 
 In Sir Evan M'' Alpine these excellent and 
 zealous ministers, Mr. Clinton and Mr. Mac- 
 farlane, found an auxiliary, in whose active earnest 
 life religion was not a mere parenthesis on Sunday, 
 taken up for a special day, and laid down for 
 a careless week ; but, like the salt taken with his 
 food, it pervaded whatever he thought, did, or 
 enjoyed. To Sir Evan's enlightened mind Chris- 
 tianity had ever been a religion of love, which 
 supplied the only grand object of human life, while 
 he derived his own individual happiness from the 
 mutual confidence, affection, and sympathy of 
 those he esteemed, as well as from feelings of 
 universal goodwill towards every living creature 
 within the sphere of his influence. 
 
 In Sir Evan's well-considered estimation his own 
 duties resembled the circles of a whirlpool, where 
 the innermost and deepest were at home, yet 
 around that happy home it was his object by 
 many carefully adjusted schemes to spread an 
 atmosphere of knowledge, of comfort, and of 
 cheerful piety to the widest horizon he could 
 reach. Among his own beloved clansmen, their 
 improvement in piety and in intellect was his
 
 78 BEATRICE. 
 
 continual aim, and the real benefit done to each 
 tenant was much more on his mind than the gain 
 derived from their increasing industry. The good 
 Chief desired not only that his people should earn 
 a comfortable living in his employment, but also 
 that they should live for good and praiseworthy 
 ends, advancing in self-respect, in mutual kind- 
 ness, and in everlasting pietj. 
 
 It might have touched any heart with emotion, 
 — it might have brought tears of approving plea- 
 sure into any eyes, to behold the picture of 
 genuine felicity and of dignified benevolence which 
 it presented, when, on a fine summer evening in 
 July 1835, the Chief of M^Alpine, who delighted 
 in giving an agreeable outlet to the sympathy and 
 affection of his clansmen and neighbours, cele- 
 brated, in the noble park at Cairngorum Castle, 
 the 13th birthday of his young nephew and pre- 
 sumptive heir, young Allan M'^ Alpine. His educa- 
 tion was now carried on at home, by Mr. Herbert, 
 a most accomplished scholar, who had many years 
 before been Oxford tutor to Sir Evan himself, and 
 was now somewhat advanced in years, but happy 
 in the singular success with which he cultivated 
 the talents of his accomplished pupil. 
 
 None of his juvenile cotemporaries could excel 
 young Allan at his birthday fete in the athletic 
 Highland exercises of throwing the caber or
 
 BEATRICE. 79 
 
 putting the stone, while, with a face apparently 
 made for laughter and frolic, he joined eagerly in 
 all the national games, as enlivening a picture of 
 healthful boyish festivity as ever adorned a birth- 
 day celebration. Indeed, if Art and Nature had 
 laid their heads together, intending to excel them- 
 selves in producing a creature of almost faultless 
 perfection, they could scarcely have done more than 
 had been done for young Allan, even though de- 
 scended from the proscribed " Ambrose dynasty." 
 
 Sir Evan, whose energy seemed to have no twi- 
 light, equipped, as was his daily habit, in the 
 ancient costume of his clan, and accompanied by 
 his graceful refined-looking aunt. Lady Edith 
 Tremorne, presided at the tenants' dinner, which 
 followed that day, where unlimited abundance of 
 beef and of plum pudding, tankards of ale and 
 barrels of beer at discretion, were served in the 
 open air to a numerous company of delighted 
 guests. When a toast was proposed by the oldest 
 clansman present, — " The roof-tree of M'^ Alpine, 
 and our honoured Chief," the very sky was rent 
 with successive cheers, which might have been 
 heard at Inverness, led on, cap in hand, by Allan, 
 who seemed inspired from that day with a spirit 
 of manly energy, produced by the fervour of his 
 grateful affection to the best of uncles and the 
 kindest of friends. 
 
 The Chief made a short speech of thanks to his
 
 80 BEATRICE. 
 
 assembled friends, expressing his own deep con- 
 viction that the only earthly object worth living 
 for, was the hope of usefulness, and its best earthly 
 reward, the sight of such heartfelt attachment as 
 had been testified towards himself by those whom 
 it was his most fervent desire and constant prayer 
 that he might really benefit. " To each of you 
 I would say, as a clansman and a friend," he 
 added, looking around on his attentive audience, 
 with a serious, fixed, and steadfast gaze, " Help 
 yourself, and heaven will help you. Be not de- 
 pendent on any man's efforts, but use your own, 
 remembering the good old saying, ' that time is 
 to the wise man gold; but in the fool's hand it 
 turns to slates.' What you beg or borrow is 
 mere monkey money, but what you earn is doubly 
 a blessing; once beggars, always beggars ; therefore 
 I offfer you not alms, but work. Be not dis- 
 couraged by difficulties, but conquer them in a 
 spirit of prayerful resistance : every alms is a fresh 
 badge of slavery, but the industrious will at last 
 find, as Bishop Home says, that * in the heraldry 
 of heaven goodness precedes greatness.' 
 
 " * Each -word we speak has infinite effects ; 
 Each soul we pass must go to heaven or hell ; 
 A.nd this our one chance through eternity, 
 To drop and die, like dead leaves in the brake ; 
 Or, like the meteor stone, though whelm'd itself, 
 Kindle the dry moors into fruitful blaze/ "
 
 BEATRICE. 81 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear ; 
 But lo ! emerging from the watery grave, 
 Again they float incumbent on the -wave, 
 Again the dismal prospect opens round, 
 The wreck, the shore, the dying, and the drown'd." 
 
 Falconer. 
 
 How truly did Archbishop Leighton remark, that 
 the Christian has a supernatural delight in natural 
 things. Among the many sources of pleasure for 
 which Sir Evan endeavoured to inspire his nephew 
 with a taste, was the enjoyment to be derived from 
 the scenery of this noble world, and especially 
 from the various aspects of the ocean. The even- 
 ing of Allan's joyous birthday set in with the 
 fiercest storm at sea that the oldest inhabitant 
 could remember, and Lady Edith proposed, after 
 their guests had dispersed, that the family party, 
 AUan^ Sir Evan, and herself, should proceed to 
 the shore, accompanied by Mr. Herbert. 
 
 As they proceeded through the beautiful park, 
 many an autumn leaf, gorgeous in tints of orange, 
 crimson, and scarlet, whirled past or dropped at
 
 82 BEATRICE. 
 
 their feet before they reached the tall summit of 
 the red cliffs which overhung the sea, rising abruptly 
 more than two hundred feet above the tide. There 
 the waves dashed upwards with an explosion like 
 thunder, while the sad wailing sound of the hurri- 
 cane caused a dismal duet with the hoarse murmur 
 of the billows, and loudly contrasted with the 
 cheerful voices of the four animated spectators, 
 pleased with their walk, with each other, with the 
 glittering sunset, and with all animated nature. 
 
 " But the wind is so high," said Allan, grasping 
 his cap to keep it on, " that we shall not know till 
 the day after to-morrow^ whether our heads have 
 not been blown off!" 
 
 Sir Evan was pointing out how grandly the surf 
 came dashing up the rocks and fell in curling 
 surges beneath, while innumerable sea-gulls were 
 fluttering around in the crimson light, chasing 
 each other on the water, revelling in the foam and 
 dipping themselves in the waves, merry as a party 
 of school-girls on a holiday, when suddenly he 
 paused with a start of evident astonishment and 
 dismay, while it seemed at the moment as if a 
 thunder-bolt in a summer's sky could scarcely 
 have produced in the usually calm spirit of Sir 
 Evan a greater sensation. Allan looked round in 
 amazement, and saw that his uncle was rooted to 
 the spot, with clasped hands and straining eye-
 
 BEATRICE. 83 
 
 balls gazing far out to sea, where a long rocky 
 point which interrupted the view was encircled by 
 a belt of roaring surf, and almost concealed by a 
 huge canopy of massy clouds. There the whole 
 ocean seemed rocking in convulsions, and the howl- 
 ing wind sounded indeed sublime, when^ bursting 
 suddenly in view, and battling through the hurri- 
 cane, where Allan had never seen any sail before, 
 a tall vessel appeared, scudding rapidly before the 
 storm, and in her apparently reckless course she 
 seemed making towards Clanmarina Bay. The 
 scene became terrifically sublime, as the noble ship, 
 like a floating world, came bounding forwards, as if 
 amidst the hurried riot of the unfettered ocean she 
 would shiver the steadfast cliff on which they stood. 
 
 *' She is a foreign ship, and carries a foreign 
 flag," said Sir Evan, in a voice of grave apprehen- 
 sion to Mr. Herbert. " See how wildly her colours 
 are streaming in the blast ! She will be hurled on 
 the crags ! " 
 
 *' They have e\ddently mistaken their course ; 
 yet if the captain carries a chart on board, that 
 will point out the almost impossibility of entering 
 this bay with a west wind. Every seaman avoids 
 it!" replied Mr. Herbert, anxiously, while Sir 
 Evan, with shuddering indecision, stood during one 
 short moment endeavouring to think what he 
 ought to do for the endangered vessel. It looked
 
 84 BEATRICE. 
 
 like an Alpine mountain rushing unresistingly 
 forwards, buffeted by the roaring tempest, and 
 springing over the gigantic waves. 
 
 " They will be lost ! all on board must perish! ' 
 exclaimed Sir Evan, with increasing agitation^ 
 " No warning can reach them now, and no human 
 power can save them. The sails are torn to rib- 
 bons — yet how she rends her way onwards ! Come 
 all, and follow me. We must do something. Let 
 it not be our faults if they die ! Aunt Edith, 
 and Allan, go home instantly, ring the alarm-bell, 
 light the largest fires you can kindle, prepare 
 blankets, linen, hot water, and cordials. Leave the 
 rest to Herbert and me ; but hope the best, and 
 pray for our success." 
 
 In an instant Sir Evan and Mr. Herbert were 
 with dauntless heroism in full career down the 
 precipitous sides of the cliff, hallooing to the 
 fishermen below their hurried orders that the 
 fishing-boats should be instantly unmoored. The 
 sailors had been gazing inactively at the fated ves- 
 sel ; but how great is the power of an individual 
 to arouse heroic feelings and generous thoughts by 
 his own example! When Sir Evan sprang on 
 board the first boat which was afloat, followed by 
 his old military servant M^Ronald and Robert 
 Carre, he asked in tones of eager animation if any 
 of the clansmen would follow to the rescue, and
 
 BEATKICE. 85 
 
 scarcely had he spoken before lie was surrounded 
 by a sufficient crew of hardy, active, energetic 
 seamen. The splash of the oars had already 
 gladdened the brave Chieftain's ears, as they hur- 
 riedly pushed off from the shore, and Sir Evan 
 himself was guiding the helm of one boat, followed 
 by several others, when suddenly looking round, 
 the Chief was startled to perceive that Allan, 
 having followed unperceived down the cliff, had 
 leaped into the boat, and was actually seated by 
 his side. The spirited bo}^ glanced at his uncle, 
 his hair blowing wildly in this fiercest of hurricanes, 
 his cheek burning with excitement, and his eye 
 glittering with eagerness, while he waved his hat, 
 and in a tone of fearless delight exclaimed, " Up 
 guards, and at them ! " 
 
 Sir Evan could not but smile at this mal apropos 
 quotation, while he looked iriesoiutely at this 
 excited young volunteer, daring so far beyond the 
 limits of prudence, but, unwilling to damp so keen 
 an ardour in a good cause, and anxious not to dis- 
 hearten the boatmen, he pulled with renewed 
 energy out to sea amidst the boiling surge, saying, 
 " Now for a long pull and a strong pull, and a 
 pull together with your Chief." 
 
 Not a moment was to be lost, for the ship had 
 already struck with so terrific a shock that she 
 seemed instantly going to pieces. Port after port 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 86 BEATRICE. 
 
 fell in, and the v/ind roared through the rigging, 
 while the vessel continued striking, staggering 
 and still plunging yet further on the sands, till at 
 length the wild waves washed quite across her, 
 precipitating two men from the helm. The blocks 
 groaned, the cordage shook, and the masts almost 
 immediately fell over with a frightful crash, which 
 threw the ship completely on her side, and pre- 
 cipitated many on board into the surf. 
 
 Sir Evan was now near enough with his little 
 fleet of boats to hear the voices of the unfortunate 
 crew, now struggling in the very jaws of destruc- 
 tion, swearing and praying in a breath, while all 
 was bewildering confusion around : shrieks for 
 help, prayers to St. Elmo, cries of despair, the 
 roar of the hurricane, the thunder of the waves, 
 and the long sweep of the ocean, bellowing as it 
 dashed up the gigantic rocks. 
 
 High above all such appalling sounds, calm, 
 clear, and commanding, arose the deep-toned voice 
 of Sir Evan, accustomed to authority and fearless 
 of danger. He directed every movement with as 
 perfect composure as if seated in his own house, 
 while the boatmen, taking courage from the ex- 
 ample of their chief, watched his looks with im- 
 plicit confidence, and obeyed his orders almost 
 before they could be spoken. 
 
 In such a scene of entrancing excitement Allan
 
 BEATRICE. 87 
 
 t 
 
 felt a sovereign contempt for all the little adven- 
 tures of his school-boy life ; but though animated 
 with courageous energy, he was over-awed into a 
 solemn silence by the tragical interest of this fear- 
 ful hour ; still his nerves were undaunted, though 
 from time to time volumes of water came stream- 
 ing over the bulwark where he sat. The noble 
 boy forgot his own danger in anxiously watching 
 some of the foreign crew, entangled in the rigj^ing 
 of their ship, while in momentary hazard of being 
 swept away, and with the eager enthusiasm of san- 
 guine bo3diood, he shouted so that every one heard 
 him and felt encouraged by his dauntless spirit, 
 '' Let us save them all — every one! Not a man 
 shall perish ! Cianalpine for ever ! " 
 
 Sir Evan's stout-hearted followers looked grave 
 and resolute, as men who knew that their lives 
 were at stake, but feared not to hazard them, 
 while, with almost supernatural strength and skill, 
 they pulled their oars till the boat sprung through 
 the gurgling waters, or swept down the sloping 
 sides of the mountainous waves, which were now 
 strewed with fragments of wreck, with broken 
 spars, and with drowning men. Several of the 
 boat's crew evidently quailed with apprehension 
 as they glanced around, but Sir Evan said in his 
 own low, deep, earnest voice — " If we are to die, 
 let it be like men." 
 
 d2
 
 88 BEATRICE. 
 
 The doomed vessel still stood at bay, though the 
 mainmast had snapped as a reed, and come down 
 with a crash like the wreck of nature itself. A 
 wild shriek had echoed up to heaven from the 
 crowded deck, but now all was still, while the ter- 
 rified crew, dumb and motionless with fright, stood 
 huddled together at the gangway, watching the 
 progress of their deliverers. Higher and higher 
 rose the surf, leaping up the sides of the founder- 
 ing vessel in wreaths of foam, while every plank 
 seemed rending asunder, when Sir Evan's little 
 fleet drew up alongside of her more sheltered side, 
 and he sprung up the bulwarks alone. By his 
 orders the clansmen remained at their oars in mute 
 and solemn obedience to receive his commands, 
 while the crew, one by one, almost torpid with 
 J ffright, were received into the highland boats. 
 
 It became gradually evident now to Sir Evan 
 that this was a Spanish vessel which he had en- 
 tered, as he overheard the Captain's exclamations, 
 in his own native language, of dismay and horror, 
 mingled with prayers of almost insane agony ad- 
 dressed to many a saint — name unknown. Sir 
 Evan also perceived a carved wooden figure of St. 
 Bridget floating amidst the wreck, but whether it 
 had been an image to be worshipped, or the 
 figure-head of the ship, he had not time to ascer- 
 tain, as his boat was whirling fearfully in the eddy
 
 BEATRICE. 89 
 
 of the driving vessel, and looking down on the 
 black waste of waters, it seemed, even to his brave 
 spirit, as if in less than ten minutes every living 
 soul must be in eternity. 
 
 The scene around might have sunk the stoutest 
 heart — the wall of waters on either side, the cold 
 rushing wind, and the quivering of the vessel ; but 
 Sir Evan, standing almost on the brink of destruc- 
 tion, never for an instant lost his presence of mind, 
 though the little bark manned by his men v/as 
 from time to time lifted like a bird on the wing, 
 and then rushed down the steep abyss, leaving 
 behind a track of glittering foam. It was only 
 when Sir Evan believed every soul on board to be 
 rescued that he again descended to his anxious 
 crew, thus rejoining the most attached clansm.en 
 who ever pulled an oar, and followed by the 
 other boats, crowded with refugees, landed safely 
 on the little rustic pier at Clanmarina, where 
 already Lady Edith had lighted a blazing bonfire 
 to welcome the shipwrecked mariners and their 
 brave deliverers. 
 
 It was with rapturous delight, yet with feelings 
 very deeply solemnized, that the friends of Sir 
 Evan and Allan received them after so gallant an 
 exploit and so wonderful an escape. Not only 
 were Mr. and Mrs. Clinton and Dr. and Mrs. Mac- 
 farlane h ere, filled with warm-hearted enthusiasm 
 but even Lord Eagiescairn and Father Eustace
 
 90 BEATRICE. 
 
 mingled their congratulations and rejoicings with 
 the surrounding group, and showed a degree of 
 heartfelt cordiality on the occasion which gratified 
 Sir Evan, always ready to meet more than lialf- 
 way every evidence of friendly intentions, and vvho 
 was received, when he landed, with a cheer that 
 might have been heard on the highest peak of 
 Cairngorum. 
 
 Already among the breakers, covered with sheets 
 of foam, were scattered planks, masts, rigging, casks 
 of wine, bales of silk, chests and boxes, all tossing 
 about, the sport of that noble element over which 
 the ruined ship had so lately ridden triumphant. 
 In the last boat which reached the shore there was 
 one female and a child. They seemed to have been 
 the only passengers on board, and what rank in 
 life the lady held was not very obvious at the 
 moment, as she was clothed entirely in black, 
 wearing what was either a conventual dress or the 
 very deepest mourning, with a chain round her 
 neck bearing a small miniature, which she grasped 
 convulsively in her hand. She had very singular 
 eyebrows, as they were intensely black and stron^dy 
 marked, as if a band of black velvet passed across 
 her forehead, and her whole countenance was livid 
 as marble. The fright and cold had rendered her 
 completely insensible, and every means was used 
 in vain for the suiferer's restoration. Father Eus- 
 tace, vvho had an observant eye that nothing could
 
 BEATRICE. 91 
 
 ever esca{3e, now proposed that she should be 
 taken in Lord Eaglescairn's carriage to Eaglescaiiii 
 Castle, adding, that he proposed this for a reason 
 which no one present could endeavour to dispute. — 
 that she was probably of his own persuasion, and 
 it naturally became his province, therefore, tw 
 afford her, if she recovered, his spiritual advice 
 and consolations. The little girl, a beautiful child 
 of about ten years eld, had already fallen asleep 
 in the arms of Lady Edith, who, with the assist- 
 ance of M^ Ronald, the butler, conveyed her to a 
 warm bed in the lodge, only a few paces distant 
 from the pier, where she was left undisturbed and 
 almost forgotten in the hurry and confusion ol 
 providing food and lodging for so many unexpected 
 guests in the village and castle. 
 
 When Lady Edith some liours afterwards re- 
 visited the sleeping quarters of her little stranger- 
 guest, she became astonished at the child's singular 
 beauty. Large masses of long dark ringlets lay 
 streaming over the pillow, and rippling over the 
 small white, well-turned shoulders; and the little 
 girl's long, dark eye-lashes — the longest and 
 darkest she had ever seen — contrasted singularly 
 with the dazzling skin, transparent as alabaster, 
 and tinged on the cheek with a delicate pink, 
 which gave a hue of brilliancy to her lovely com- 
 plexion more of the English than of the Spanish
 
 92 BEATRICE. 
 
 character. The young sleeper, when she awoke, 
 was so feverish and nervous from the shock and 
 chill of the previous night, that Mr. Clinton, in 
 his capacity of doctor, recommended that for 
 several days she should remain in bed at Cairn- 
 gorum Castle, where she had been already con- 
 veyed, and be kept perfectly quiet, as the slightest 
 agitation would evidently be attended with danger. 
 When Lady Edith proceeded to Eaglescairn 
 Castle, next morning, that she might convey this 
 intelligence to the party there, she was struck 
 with a singular degree of excitement manifest in 
 the countenance of Lord Eaglescairn, while even 
 the usually passive features of Father Eustace 
 betrayed more expression than they were usually 
 allowed to wear, when he approached Lady Edith, 
 who requested to see the rescued lady, that she 
 might tell her some particulars of the child's in- 
 disposition. Father Eustace replied that his own 
 patient was also very ill, much more seriously so 
 than the child, being even violently delirious ; and 
 that therefore it was impossible for any one to 
 speak to the suffering stranger, or even to see her, 
 except Lady Eaglescairn and himself; but he 
 undertook, as soon as she was able for any con- 
 versation, to tell her every particular that might 
 be communicated to him about the child. Lady 
 Edith, as slie took leave, felt a vague consciousness
 
 BEATRICE. 93 
 
 that there was something not told her on this 
 occasion, as Father Eustace and Lord Eaglescaiin 
 were each evidently apprehensive when the other 
 spoke, lest he should say what it seemed evident 
 was not to be said ; yet no conjecture could enable 
 her to imagine a secret already connected with two 
 strangers, respecting whom it seemed impossible 
 that any one could yet have obtained the merest 
 snatch of information. 
 
 The child's linen was marked in Spanish with 
 the name of Beatrice Farinelh, and the whole dress 
 in which she had been rescued was made of the 
 very finest materials ; but little else belonging to 
 her was ever saved from the hungry waves. Billow 
 after billow tossed the fated vessel like a weed on 
 the ocean, for some stormy hours, till at length it 
 gave one more fearful lurch, and pitched headlong 
 to the bottom. The captain, in witnessing this 
 final catastrophe, gave way to a paroxysm of the 
 wildest despair; and from the little which Sir 
 Evan could understand of his impassioned excla- 
 mations, mingled with every evidence of anger 
 and grief, it seemed as if the sliip had been actu- 
 ally bound on some special mission, for which he 
 was to have been most liberally paid, to bring the 
 lady and child who were on board to this very 
 neighbourhood. His papers were all gone to the 
 bottom, vath the important orders which he had 
 d3
 
 94 BEATRICE. 
 
 received on the subject; but he seemed positive 
 that the bay in which his ship had foundered was 
 the very bay of which he had been in search, for 
 all his directions had been most accurately given 
 in the missing chart, with letters, he said, to 
 several families in the neighbourhood. This ac- 
 count was partly confirmed by the singular fact, 
 that little Beatrice spoke Enghsh perfectly, though 
 with a slightly foreign accent, which added much 
 to the interest of what she said ; but her whole 
 knowledge of life seemed limited to the walls of a 
 convent, where a Sister Agnes or a Sister Theresa 
 w^ere the only friends of whom she had any recol- 
 lection. 
 
 Sir Evan proceeded next day to Eaglescairn 
 Castle, when he stated to Lord Eaglescairn and 
 Father Eustace all that the Spanish captain had 
 said ; but they both expressed an opinion that the 
 captain wished to found a claim to some compensa- 
 tion upon so improbable a statement, and that from 
 the Chief's imperfect mode of understanding his 
 language, there must be some mistake. But Lord 
 Eaglescairn proposed to subscribe a sum for re- 
 storing the shipwrecked mariners immediately to 
 their home, the munificence of which astonished 
 Sir Evan, coming from one by whom the verb 
 " to Qfive " had never before seemed fullv under- 
 stood.
 
 BEATRICE. 95 
 
 When Sir Evan proceeded to inquire of Lord 
 Eaglescairn for his lady -guest, Father Eu-taee 
 hurriedly informed him, with a look of deep co.i- 
 cern, that her mind continued still in a verv 
 wandering state, and that during a short interval 
 of consciousness she had refused to answer any of 
 Lady Eaglescairn's inquiries, but made a sign for 
 him to approach, saying that she had taken a vow 
 of silence for several years, and would speak to no 
 one but a confessor. ^' Therefore," added Father 
 Eustace, with his eyes on the ground, and his usual 
 sublime repose of manner, *' if you have any com- 
 munication to make, let it be done through me." 
 
 Sir Evan had an instinctive penetration that 
 seldom deceived him, and he felt a secret dissatis- 
 faction, quite unaccountable to himseli", at his 
 whole interview with Lord Eaglescairn and Father 
 Eustace. There was the evident restraint of some- 
 thing on their minds that could not be told, and 
 an ill-concealed impatience to send off the captain 
 and crew, which occurred to him afrerwards as 
 very singular; yet, since nothing more seemed 
 likely to be elicited from them, or possible to be 
 discovered, the Chief took immediate measures for 
 shipping off the homeless strangers at the nearest 
 port, all the arrangements for which he made in 
 about ten days, with the liberality and sympa- 
 thising kii'.dness invariably a part of his nature.
 
 96 BEATRICE. 
 
 Sir Evan during the whole week failed in all his 
 endeavours to see the Spanish lady, who was 
 represented to him as being unconquerably averse 
 to meet any one but a priest; meanwhile, therefore, 
 he prepared letters for the Bishop of Corunna, for 
 the English consul there, for the Spanish ambas- 
 sador in London, and for every one else wdio, he 
 thought it likely, might find out the friends of his 
 little guest, if she had any. The little Beatrice 
 continued long very unwell, at Cairngorum Castle ; 
 but still every proposal Sir Evan again made to 
 see the lady at Eaglescairn Castle, in case, through 
 his extensive knowledge of languages, he might 
 be able to write to her friends abroad, was so 
 coldly received and so almost angrily set aside, 
 that, with increasing surprise and perplexity, he 
 relinquished that subject entirely. 
 
 The Spanish captain and crew were to depart 
 for Glasgow in a fishing-vessel, which had been 
 engaged to lay ofi" Clanmarina Bay in passing, to 
 pick them up, and Sir Evan having provided in 
 every way for their comfort and safety, accom- 
 panied these foreign wanderers to the pier. When 
 they were about to push off, and the Chief with 
 his followers waved their caps as a last farewell, 
 the Spanish captain, wdio was smoking his pipe, 
 and at the same time counting his beads, but who 
 had seemed ail day evidently in a state of extreme
 
 BEATRICE. 97 
 
 agitation, suddenly started up, threw down the 
 rosary and tobacco, sprung back upon the shore, 
 and grasping Sir Evan ahnost convulsively by the 
 arm, said in low trembling accents, 
 
 '* You saved my life, and I am treating you 
 like a villain ! The Pope himself could not by his 
 absolution make my conscience easy in doing so, 
 nor all the Father Eustaces in Christendom. Here 
 is an amber rosary and a golden crucifix belonging 
 to that child, which I secreted during the wreck ; 
 and let me confess besides, that those letters you 
 enjoined me to deliver at Corunna never can 
 reach their destination. When I went to confes- 
 sion last night at Eaglescairn Abbey, Father 
 Eustace laid his injunction on me to destroy them 
 before he would give me absolution. I was rascal 
 enough to do so in his presence. There is some 
 mystery about that child evidently, therefore 
 never entrust her, if you can avoid it, to Father 
 Eustace, for his object is to take her from your 
 care, and it is in this neighbourhood I am certain 
 that her friends were to have been found, though 
 I think she has found some enemies too." 
 
 The Spaniard hastened to resume his seat on 
 board the departing boat, and Sir Evan walked 
 musingly back to his own fireside, where he com- 
 municated to Lady Edith and Mr. Herbert the 
 singular acknowledgment m.ade to him so unex-
 
 98 BEATRICE. 
 
 pectedly, and which filled the whole party with 
 amazement and with indignation, as well as with 
 new interest in the child's future destination. 
 Lady Edith had already become deeply interested 
 in the lovely intelligent httle Beatrice, but though 
 educated in some convent to the highest pitch of 
 refinement in every graceful accomplishment, and 
 even in many literary acquirements, she seemed 
 almost incredibly uninformed when Lady Edith 
 penetrated into the depths of her ignorance and 
 discovered the utter prostration ot" the girls fine 
 young intellect. She was in midnight darkness 
 as to every person, place, or thing beyond the 
 Vv-alls of her convent. In respect to religion her 
 whole faith seemed to be wasted on legends of 
 saints, no better than fairy tales, and on imaginary 
 miracles, performed by lifeless images, of which a 
 modern conjuror would have been ashamed. 
 
 " I am not surprised at any ignorance in one 
 who emerges from a Spanish convent," said Mr. 
 Herbert. " At Madrid, once, I saw a gentleman, 
 otherwise well educated, come into an image- 
 maker's warehouse and bespeak to order a figure 
 of St. Anthony, very much as he would bespeak 
 an eight-day clock or a mahogany wardrobe. He 
 ordered the intended saint to be made of the best 
 Norway deal, four feet six in height, rather thin, 
 of a grave countenance, with a straight nose, and
 
 BEATRICE. 9y 
 
 the hands clasped. It went home, did not give 
 entire satisfaction, was altered, re-modelled, and 
 at last improved to suit the owner's taste. With 
 the rest of the wood he desired that a chest of 
 drawers should he made. Then the image was 
 brought to his house in state, and worshipped 
 there. Another was made from the same piece 
 of timber to represent St. Theresa, which was 
 then placed in a niche near the bridge of St. Bene- 
 dict, and lighted with a glinmiering lamp at night. 
 I have seen thousands on their bended knees in 
 the muddy streets, gibbering Latin prayers to that 
 bit of stick, beating their breasts, imploring its 
 intercession, kissing its toe, bending down their 
 foreheads to touch the feet, and of course, as the 
 most necessary part of the ceremony, dropping 
 money into a box by its side." 
 
 " Let us hope," said Lady Edith with bene- 
 volent ardour, " that the little Beatrice having 
 been shipwrecked on our shores, we may be 
 enabled to save her from a far worse shipwreck of 
 the soul." 
 
 *' Yes," answered Sir Evan earnestly, ''for never 
 did I see the hideous superstition of her country- 
 men more degradingly testified than yesterday, 
 when some of the terrified sailors w^ere beating an 
 image of St. Veronica, as large as life, in revenge 
 for their losses, and others were frantically praying
 
 100 BEATRICE. 
 
 to it, bruised and battered as it was by so long 
 drifting among the rocks." 
 
 " Little Beatrice has evidently never heard of a 
 Bible," said Lady Edith, " and yesterday Allan 
 found the poor child on her bare knees, in the 
 marble hall, rapidly counting over her beads 
 before the stucco busts of Archbishop Leighton 
 and Dr. Chalmers ! " 
 
 " There are few better saints in the Spanish 
 calendar, and no men who would have been more 
 unwilling to take a place among them," said Sir 
 Evan, unable to resist a smile. " Who w^ould 
 believe that human beings had actually been 
 degraded to the idolatry of wooden images, no 
 more able to help them than the wooden floor on 
 which they stand, if instances of that strange infa- 
 tuation were not still seen on the \'isible earth, 
 and even among nations calling themselves civi- 
 lized ? \Yho would believe there can be any 
 serious fear that the worship of dolls or idols may 
 ever be revived in educated Britain ? Yet is it 
 not among her most learned and talented men 
 that converts have been lately found to such 
 modern paganism ? " 
 
 " As Bishop Warburton says, ' The gods, 
 temples and ceremonies of pagan times were 
 adapted by papists to Christianity,' " observed 
 Mr. Herbert. " The bronze statue of Jupiter
 
 BEATRICE. 101 
 
 became St. Peter, and Juno has transmitted 
 her peacock feathers to the state insignia of 
 the Pope. It remained for more modern days 
 to discover that St. Peter's chair was a convert 
 from Mahometanism." 
 
 "It has been well observed," said Sir Evan, 
 " that religion is the flight of the invisible spirit 
 of man, to the invisible spirit of God; but sculp- 
 ture and painting are splendid hindrances and 
 beautiful impediments to its flight." 
 
 " Jupiter's bronze statue has the great toe lite- 
 rally worn away by the pilgrims daily kissing it 
 in memory of the Apostle Peter. 1 remember 
 seeing beggars come indiscriminately with thieves, 
 monks, and ladies, who all carefully wiped the 
 remains of the toe, the ladies using their em- 
 broidered pocket-handkerchiefs, before taking their 
 turn to salute this transformed Jupiter. His foot 
 reminded me of the golden image set up by Nebu- 
 chadnezzar, before which the captive Israelites 
 were commanded to bend the knee." 
 
 " How astonishing to us," observed Lady Edith, 
 " seem the constant relapses of the Israelites into 
 idolatry. Their infatuation in manufacturing the 
 golden calf of Aaron appeared always to me nearly 
 incredible; but in our own country now we hear of 
 an educated man from one of our own universities 
 presenting a silver cradle in token of adoration tc
 
 102 BEATRICE. 
 
 an image. That little hideous doll has a carriage at 
 Rome more splendid than the Lord Mayor's state 
 coach, and receives a higher fee than any physi- 
 cian for driving about to perform miraculous cures." 
 
 " Nothing can be more splendid than the statue 
 of Juno at Rome, now adorned to represent the 
 Virgin Mary," said Mr. Herbert. " She wears 
 diamonds that an empress could not match, but 
 her votaries have committed an absurd anachronism 
 by putting on their idol a pair of ear-rings, being 
 ornaments of very modern invention. That is 
 quite on a par with the bad taste of putting jewels 
 at all upon one whose vocation on earth was to 
 set us an example of humility and every other 
 private virtue in humble life." 
 
 "The papists are like the people of Lystra, who, 
 wlien they saw Paul cure a lame man, exclaimed, 
 'The gods are come down to us in the likeness 
 of men. And they called Barnabas, Jupiter, and 
 Paul, Mercurius.'"* 
 
 " Yet," added Lady Edith, " when the priest 
 of Jupiter brought oxen and garlands unto the 
 gates, and would have done sacrifice with the 
 people, Barnabas and Paul * rent their clothes, and 
 ran in among the people, crying out and saying. 
 Sirs, why do ye these things ? We also are men 
 of like passions with you, and preach unto you 
 * Acts xiv. 11.
 
 BEATRICE. 103 
 
 that ye should turn from these vanities unto the 
 living God !' " 
 
 ** It was well that Hezekiah broke in pieces 
 the brazen serpent because the Israelites burned 
 incense to it," replied Sir Evan ; " but in the 
 country of our little Beatrice the Spanish pea- 
 santry treat their idols with but little rever- 
 ence at times. When events occur contrary to 
 their prayers they revile these lifeless dolls in the 
 grossest language, and habitually make jests upon 
 them, so that the mixture in Spain seemed to me 
 very strange of grandeur and vulgarity, of the 
 sublime and almost of the ridiculous." 
 
 '* The Italian banditti wear a picture of the 
 Virgin suspended from their throat, which is an 
 evidence of what every one must see, that as 
 superstition rises morality sink-," observed Mr. 
 Herbert ; " and a picture of the Virgin in the 
 chapel under St. Peter's bears an inbcription to 
 say that it miraculously shed blood when struck 
 by a stone." 
 
 " The Papists say that it requires a * Catholic 
 mind' to understand the worship ot images, and 
 it certainly must require a very peculiar state of 
 mind indeed to take in idolatry of images and 
 relics," answered Mr. Herbert. " In the Greek 
 Church, where images are not so fully sanctioned, 
 the superstitious who cannot do without \isible
 
 104 BEATRICE. 
 
 objects to worship have adopted a most shocking 
 substitute. At Moscow I have seen men of the 
 lowest description hired on Good Friday to re- 
 present our Divine Lord. These mere ruffian 
 peasants are tied with ropes to a cross, and if any 
 little accident causes them annoyance when the 
 ceremony of elevating it takes place, they swear 
 and storm in the most fearful language. Every 
 Popish priest is bound daily to read a portion of 
 the Breviary, otherwise he is considered in a state 
 of sin unfit to perform Mass. You may there- 
 fore see the Padres often hurriedly reading their 
 inevitable portion at the road-side or in the 
 diligences, thus forming their whole minds and 
 thoughts upon that one model. The whole volume 
 is adorned with miraculous legends that excel 
 those of Ovid. Tales are related by the Papists 
 of saints who had their heads cut off, and walked 
 with them afterwards under their arms, or of 
 
 " That reminds me," interrupted Sir Evan, 
 *' that in the Church of St. Stefano Rotunda, I 
 saw a representation of St. Dionysius walking 
 in full episcopal robes, leading a procession, and 
 holding his head in his hand, streaming with 
 blo:»d." 
 
 " Only fancy any honest, sensible, John Bull 
 Englishman being asked deliberately to believe
 
 BEATRICE. 105 
 
 such a story," said Lady Edith. "Yet, strange to 
 say, there are educated English converts so fond 
 of these tawdry images and winking pictures that 
 they have actually become the laughing-stock of 
 many old established Romanists, who long ago 
 discarded such blasphemous idolatry with merited 
 contempt." 
 
 " The celebrated image of the Virgin which I 
 saw at Saragossa, supposed to perform miracles, is 
 a little black doll dressed in scarlet satin and" 
 gold," said Sir Evan ; "and there are rival dolls 
 in every city of Spain, where the most angry 
 jealousy burns fiercely between the inhabitants re- 
 specting the superiority of their favourite image. 
 When I was last in Spain a young lady of large 
 fortune had been worked up to such a pitch of 
 delirious excitement that she allowed her two 
 brothers to put her to death, by crucifying her 
 on the door of their sitting-room, after which they 
 naturally succeeded to her income." 
 
 " The Papists have little difficulty among 
 heathens in making what they consider conversions 
 to Popery," said jNIr. Herbert. " In savage districts 
 the natives are all marched to the nearest river, 
 where they are baptized and then adorned with a 
 little cross, hung by a string round their necks. 
 The pagans are delighted with the pretty little 
 ornament, and feel quite at home, of course, with
 
 106 BEATRICE. 
 
 idols and images, — when adopting a religion also 
 where they must neither think nor pray for 
 themselves ; they have all intellect enough to sit 
 as the people sit, while others think and pray for 
 them." 
 
 " It is an interesting thought," said Lady Edith, 
 *' that as we feehle and sinful mortals could not 
 have borne the glorious vision of our Creator, the 
 Divine Saviour of man assumed a human form to 
 adapt himself to our nature and necessities; but 
 the Romanists seem still to find their senses so 
 dazzled by contemplating the holy and majestic 
 character of our Divine Redeemer, that they have 
 recourse to the intercession of the angels ; but 
 even the angels being too bright for their con- 
 templation, they have had recourse to canonizing 
 the saints; but finding even they were too dazzling 
 in their glorified state, they have recourse to images 
 of these saints, and at last, to relieve the oppres- 
 sion of their superiority, the Papists take a living 
 mortal man, sinful like themselves, and seeing him 
 ordained to be a priest they finally transfer to him 
 that office of intercession which our Saviour came 
 on earth to assume himself. Thus you see Lord 
 Eaglescairn dines and walks and talks politics every 
 day with Father Eustace, to whom he afterwards 
 confesses the sins of idle talking or infringing on 
 a fast, which they have probably committed to-
 
 BEATRICE, 107 
 
 gether, and for which he receives a very easy 
 absolution in his own house." 
 
 "It is time now for all the fearful evils of 
 Romanism to be pointed out in every house 
 throughout Great Britain, as the people have not 
 in general been preparing their minds against the 
 danger in England, nor bringing up their children 
 to apprehend the practised wiles of Jesuitism," 
 continued Sir Evan, in a voice both solemn and 
 impressive : " few men on earth are so practised 
 from their earliest youth in making the worse 
 appear the better cause as the Jesuits, who have 
 often controlled the most despotic ftionarchs. At 
 the early age of thirty-seven Acquaviva, already 
 general of the Jesuits, reigned over every cabinet 
 in Europe, and their present aim is again to make 
 England revolve obediently around their orbit. 
 Under Jesuitical influence our nation would soon 
 have to mourn over divided families, prostrated 
 intellects, confiscated incomes, alienated friends, 
 forfeited Bibles, and the iron rule of a false re- 
 ligion which substitutes the senses for the spirit, 
 earth for heaven, and man for God. Such a 
 superstition is characterised in Holy Scripture 
 as * full of dead men's bones, and all manner of 
 uncleanness.' 
 
 " Their gods but gold and silver are, 
 The works of mortal hands ; 
 With speechless mouth and sightless eyes, 
 The molten idol stands."
 
 108 BEATRICE . 
 
 There are sometimes conversations heard once 
 in our lives by an apparent accident, which re- 
 main engraved on our memory, and make us 
 think for ever, especially when for the first time 
 they call up reflection to an unaccustomed mind. 
 Beatrice was seated on a stool at the feet of Lady 
 Edith while these remarks were made, some of 
 which she partially understood, and they long 
 afterwards haunted her recollection. She had in 
 her arms a large doll, given her that day by Lady 
 Edith, who had purchased it at a charity bazaar 
 in Cromarty. Whenever she looked at it after- 
 wards, and pulled the wire to open or shut the 
 eyes, she became reminded of so much as she 
 had understood of what passed, and pursued the 
 subject in subsequent years to its very centre, 
 under the tuition of those into whose affectionate 
 care she had fortunately fallen. Sir Evan and 
 Lady Edith having resolved to be her friends, and 
 even more than friends, instructed Beatrice by 
 degrees during the long lapse of years in the 
 profoundest depths of theology, being conscious 
 that if ever reclaimed by her Spanish relatives it 
 would be no superficial knowledge that could 
 enable her to withstand the wiles by which she 
 would be immediately beset. 
 
 '^ It will not do," said Lady Edith afterwards, 
 in conversation with Mrs. Clinton, " merely to fill 
 his dear girl's heart and soul with music, paint-
 
 BEATRICE. 109 
 
 ing, languages, arts, sciences, and dancing, which 
 are too often thought to be all the acquirements 
 necessary for life. How many now are thrust out 
 into the arena of life totally uninstructed in the 
 part they are really to act, surrounded as every 
 mortal must sooner or later be by perplexities, 
 tried by temptations, infatuated with pleasure, or 
 wrung with sorrows. Who does not pity any girl 
 plunged into the whirlpool of society without a 
 conception how difficult a thing human life is ? 
 The whole happiness of her existence may be 
 shipwrecked by one heedless action, by a mistaken 
 estimate of its objects, b}^ a false estimate of its 
 attachments, or by any one headlong impulse of 
 a young, unsophisticated, and affectionate heart. 
 Above all, in the case of Beatrice we must guard 
 her mind against the present tendency of idle 
 enthusiastic young minds to Romanism, that fear- 
 ful blight to the intellect and happiness of all who 
 embrace its withering tenets." 
 
 '* She will receive from you," replied Mrs. Clin- 
 ton earnestly, "what I consider the best part of 
 education, so strangely neglected by many mothers 
 in our day, the familiar companionship and con- 
 versation of one whose experience in life can direct 
 her judgment for future years in the prospects, 
 hopes, and objects of existence." 
 
 TOL. I. E
 
 110 BEATRICK 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 i " Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves. 
 
 Who all the sacred mysteries of heaven 
 To their own vile advantages shall turn 
 Of lucre and ambition ; and the tnitk 
 With superstition and tradition's taint. 
 Left only in these written records pure, 
 Though not but by the Spirit understood. 
 Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names. 
 Places, and titles, and with these to join 
 Secular power: though feigning still to act 
 By spiritual, to themselves appropriating 
 The Spirit of God, promised alike and given 
 To all believers." 
 
 MiLTOW. 
 
 The next day after this conversation Sir Evan 
 sent a friendly note to Lord Eaglescairn, announc- 
 ing that more than a week having now elapsed he 
 meant to call at the castle next day at four 
 o'clock, with Lady Edith, when he trusted that 
 no impediment would be permitted to interfere 
 with their seeing the Spanish lady who had been 
 recently delivered from shipwreck, as he felt en- 
 titled to an interview, and was resolved to obtain 
 one even though she might choose to observe her 
 vow by remaining both deaf and dumb during their 
 whole visit.
 
 BEATRICE. Ill 
 
 " How very strange," said Sir Evan to Mr. Her- 
 bert when folding up his letter, " are these Popish 
 vows to abstain from the common functions of 
 nature, sleep, food, or speech ! Suppose I could 
 make a vow only to inhale my breath six times 
 in a minute instead of sixty, how usefully my 
 attention would be occupied in the painful effort 
 to check the inclination to breathe, which is, in 
 fact, a very innocent indulgence." 
 
 " Two-thirds of the insane patients in a mad- 
 house chiefly show their derangement by an inten- 
 tion of starving themselves to death ; most of 
 them are sleepless, and many are voluntarily 
 dumb," replied Mr. Herbert. " I think those 
 well-meaning persons who so closely imitate the 
 effects of derangement reduce the vigour of mind 
 and body, till they become more liable to those 
 strange delusions, which cause Papists to *see 
 visions and dream dreams.' " 
 
 " There is quite a new code of sins in the 
 Popish world," observed Sir Evan, sealing his 
 letter ; " the sin of reading the Bible, of eating, 
 of sleeping, of speaking, of marrying, of having 
 one's own opinion, or of looking each other in the 
 face, and their code of virtue is to make unneces- 
 sary^ vows against those very necessaries of life 
 which God has appointed as the means of our 
 existence and of our improvement. Suppose the 
 e3
 
 112 BEATRICE. 
 
 birds were suddenly to think it wrong to sing, 
 would they fulfil the purposes of their creation 
 better by leaving off?" 
 
 The carriage which was to convey Sir Evan to 
 Eaglescairn Castle stood already at the door next 
 morning, and Lady Edith had taken her seat, 
 when to their astonishment Father Eustace ap- 
 peared in the approach and advanced to meet the 
 Chief, with a look of resolute calmness, evidently 
 assumed with great effort, for his handsome dark 
 face was lividly pale, and his firmly -clenched 
 mouth bore an expression of reckless determi- 
 nation. 
 
 " I am come," he said, endeavouring to speak 
 in a careless conversational tone, *' to save you 
 a useless drive. Madame Farinelli, our foreign 
 guest, has taken, contrary to my advice, a very 
 decided step by retiring for some weeks of soli- 
 tude and penance to the convent of St. Columba, 
 at Inverness, where she wishes to collect her mind 
 and thoughts, after the terrors of shipwreck and 
 the delirium which so calamitously followed. She 
 desires me to convey her thanks to you for her 
 wonderful deliverance, an obligation which she 
 can never possibly either forget or repay ; and I 
 am also empowered to relieve you from the charge 
 of her little girl, who is to join Madame Farinelli 
 at Inverness."
 
 BEATRICE. 113 
 
 Sir Evan fixed his firm intelligent eye with 
 penetrating examination on the handsome coun- 
 tenance of Father Eustace, which looked immov- 
 able as a mask, when the Chief replied in accents 
 of stern reproof and of contemptuous indignation : 
 
 *' You are deceiving me and I know it, Father 
 Eustace. It may perhaps hurt your conscience to be 
 found out, and it has most deeply shocked me that 
 you are. The Spanish Captain has revealed that 
 letters of mine which were entrusted to him were 
 at your instigation destroyed. Lord Eaglescairn 
 cannot surely be cognisant of this crime ? I do 
 not allow myself to suspect that possible, therefore 
 to him 1 shall immediately communicate the very 
 painful discovery of so much guilt on your part, 
 the inducement to which seems totally inconceiv- 
 able. This attempt to intercept my communica- 
 tions must prove utterly unavailing, as I shall send 
 duplicates of my letters by the sure vehicle of the 
 post immediately." 
 
 Father Eustace assumed the aspect of a man 
 meekly suffering under a false accusation, raised 
 his eye-brows, dropped his eye-lids, bent his head, 
 and remained for several minutes perfectly silent ; 
 but as Sir Evan resolutely waited for an answer 
 he said, " I had a bad opinion of that shipwrecked 
 captain from the first, and this lying invention of 
 his confirms it. He has stolen a sum of money
 
 114 BEATRICE. 
 
 from Lord Eaglescairn, but he cannot steal from 
 me my reputation for honour and integrity with 
 any but heretics. I leave you to form what opinion 
 of my faith and conduct suits you best, Sir Evan, 
 and I shall only remain here to receive the girl 
 who is committed by her mother to my care." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," replied Sir Evan, 
 gazing at Father Eustace with most disconcerting 
 earnestness. " Till I have a personal interview with 
 the strange lady, and hear from her own lips what 
 are her wishes in respect to the little Beatrice, she 
 shall remain under my guardianship." 
 
 ** Impossible ! " exclaimed Father Eustace, with 
 not the most amiable expression a face could dis- 
 play ; " you surely cannot intend to dispute a 
 mother's prerogative when she sends for her own 
 child?" 
 
 " Not if it is proved that the little girl is her's, 
 and that these are her own unbiassed wishes. This 
 can only be ascertained by my personally seeing 
 the lady with whom you so unaccountably refuse 
 me an interview. Beatrice Farinelli shall remain 
 under the charge of Lady Edith, and under my 
 roof, till I see and speak to any one who professes 
 to have a superior right. Her destination was to 
 this neighbourhood, therefore we cannot doubt 
 that letters will follow her from Corunna, to inti- 
 mate where her home ought to be, if you are still
 
 BEATRICE. 115 
 
 unable to gather these particulars from the lady 
 herself. By some means or other I shall see the 
 shipwrecked stranger, even though legal means 
 should become necessary to obtain the interview 
 which you so unwarrantably deny me." 
 
 Father Eustace looked very grand and injured 
 as he turned away, but seeing with very uncom- 
 fortable distinctness that Sir Evan desired to hold 
 no further communication with him, and had no idea 
 of yielding another thought to his decision that 
 the child should remain at Cairngorum Castle till 
 a legal guardian appeared, and personally proved 
 a right to claim her, the disappointed and 
 apparently indignant priest, with a look at Sir 
 Evan as if considering how he could most speedily 
 annihilate him, slowly departed. 
 
 The laws of England, which give liberty to every 
 individual in Britain, do not yet throw the light 
 of freedom within the walls of any popish convent, 
 and no effort that Sir Evan could ever afterwards 
 make, enabled him to see the Spanish stranger. 
 He even went to make inquiries at Inverness in 
 person, and was told by the Abbess at the Con- 
 vent of St. Columba, in her most smiling and 
 fascinating tones, that the Spanish stranger wished 
 to see no one, and on a second visit, that she had 
 suddenly found an unexpected opportunity to 
 return home, and that she had gone, intending to
 
 116 BEAmiCE. 
 
 send, as soon as she arrived in Spain, a trusty 
 messenger for the young Beatrice. No such mes- 
 senger ever came, and when Sir Evan more than 
 once endeavoured to extract some information from 
 Father Eustace, he might as well have spoken to 
 an iceberg, unless he would consent to deliver the 
 little foundling up to Father Eustace's custody. 
 
 The rolling years of time passed away without 
 further notice being ever taken by any one, beyond 
 the family circle of Sir Evan, that such a child 
 existed on the earth as Beatrice Farinelli ; and 
 nothing that the Chief could say to Lord Eaglescairn 
 on that subject made the slightest impression on 
 him in reference to the strange conduct of Father 
 Eustace, whom he considered now as a solemn im- 
 postor, and who passed him when they accidentally 
 met in future with the vacant stare of an absent, 
 self-absorbed stranger. 
 
 Lady Edith Tremorne had a peculiar genius for 
 attaching children most devotedly to herself ; no 
 one had a more perfect manner for every occasion, 
 and the rapturous delight with which she was 
 invariably welcomed by the young pupils at the 
 village school was to a heart like hers, formed for 
 every kind impulse or useful principle, a most 
 inestimable pleasure. 
 
 Sir Evan, feeling a judicious dread of too preco- 
 cious an intellect, had the greatest difficulty in
 
 BEATRICE. Vi7 
 
 preventing his young nephew Allan from becoming 
 a juvenile prodigy, under the tuition of his English 
 preceptor, Mr. Herbert, whose accurate scholar- 
 ship and enlightened piety rendered him the most 
 delightful of inmates at Cairngorum Castle, and 
 enabled him advantageously to assist Mr. Clinton 
 in all his clerical duties ; but he was prevailed on 
 about this time to accept the Bishopric of Inver- 
 ness, and when the time of his departure came the 
 Chief resolved that his nephew's well-stored mind 
 should be allowed for a few months to lie fallow, 
 *' I shall confirm your ignorance by getting a new 
 tutor soon, Allan ; " observed his uncle smiling ; 
 " but a little idleness will render the after-crop 
 the more vigorous." 
 
 So great was the grief of many among the poor 
 at Clanmarina for the departure of the new Bishop, 
 that Sir Evan smilingly said to him, '' How truly 
 did Luther observe that every man is born with a 
 Pope in his heart ! Such is the almost idolatrous 
 attachment felt by even the best Christians towards 
 those clergymen who teach them well, that each 
 minister would soon become a miniature Pope. I 
 believe, Herbert, it really is time for you to leave 
 us, that all in this house may look beyond mere 
 human help." 
 
 " There seems to be in every heart a natural 
 idolatry," said Lady Edith j ^* it is not always even 
 e3
 
 118 BEATRICE. 
 
 founded on religion, as for instance, Boswell made 
 an idol of Johnson, and many do of Shakspeare. 
 Bishop Watson said he limited Lis reading to 
 Shakspeare and the Bihle !" 
 
 " There certainly is a sort of Protestant Popery 
 which would arise in most congregations, unless 
 conscientiously checked by both pastor and people," 
 added Sir Evan. " We are all inclined to believe 
 our own clergyman infallible — to hang up his 
 picture before our eyes, or to station his bust on 
 our chimney-piece, and to declare, as I do now, 
 Herbert, that I know not how on earth we are to 
 get on without you ! It is not every clergyman 
 who has strength of mind enough in such circum- 
 stances to say, like the Apostle Paul, * Why do ye 
 these things ? ' " 
 
 From this time Lady Edith became Allan's 
 favourite companion and confidante, after his ex- 
 cellent tutor had been so unexpectedly appointed 
 Bishop of Inverness, and she instructed the spirited 
 boy while she amused him, having obtained an 
 influence over his mind, through the medium of 
 his affection, almost unbounded ; and now the 
 attachment of Beatrice became every successive 
 year more enthusiastic. With characteristic energy, 
 Lady Edith, considering her present life as the first 
 stage of an immortal mind in its progress to eternity, 
 had at once assumed the entire duty of educating
 
 BEATRICE. 119 
 
 the young stranger herself ; and a most apt, as well 
 as a most interesting pupil she had found. The 
 two beautiful intelligent young people, loving 
 and being beloved by all around, were a source of 
 the greatest and best happiness to Lady Edith, 
 who seemed to have a sort of magnetic influence 
 over their feelings, by the successful endeavour she 
 constantly made to attach them to herself, and by 
 the benefits she conferred while enlightening their 
 understandings and improving their hearts. 
 
 The effect of Lady Edith's judicious training 
 became obvious, not only by the mental energy she 
 encouraged in Allan, but also by the gentle 
 sensibility she cherished in Beatrice, now the very 
 prettiest creature and most joyful phantom to be 
 seen on the earth. The fair young girl, with 
 the rich bloom of a southern clime on her cheek, 
 could be compared only to a sun-beam, flitting gaily 
 in her girlish beauty through the grim old towers 
 of Cairngorum Castle, or flying with fairy foot- 
 steps, free as mountain air, over the heather-clad 
 hills. She was accompanied, or rather pursued on 
 these excursions, by her high-spirited and frolic- 
 some companion, Allan, with his bright glowing 
 countenance, his mutinous laugh, and waving 
 brown hair, in all the blooming animation of happy 
 thoughtless boyhood. 
 
 It was the good-humoured delight of Sir Evan,
 
 120 BEATRICE. 
 
 and of " Aunt Edith," as the children usually 
 called her, to animate his two brilliant young guests 
 by every enterprise suited to their early years, 
 while at the same time he felt all the serious im- 
 portance of implanting in both such sentiments 
 and principles as should conduct them safely 
 through the shoals and quicksands of life to a 
 better and still happier existence, for which this 
 world is but a preparatory school of discipline. 
 Beatrice Farinelli at fifteen was thoroughly taught 
 by Lady Edith all the graceful decorations, as 
 well as the essential principles of education. Not 
 merely were her fingers and her feet well instructed, 
 but her heart and intellect were moreover afiec- 
 tionately trained for the duties of this world, as 
 well as for the hopes of a better. With the 
 tenderest afiection, Lady Edith from day to day 
 enticed the blooming young girl to her lessons, and 
 increasing year by year her efforts, taught Beatrice 
 by an extensive, liberal, and generous education, 
 how to master every subject of intelligent inquiry, 
 as well as to mingle in society agreeably, to con- 
 verse with intelligent frankness, and to exercise 
 every faculty for the ultimate improvement of her 
 heart. 
 
 Above all things Lady Edith specially exercised 
 the mind of Beatrice in an enlightened attachment 
 to the Protestant faith: not a mere blind sub-
 
 BEATRICE. 121 
 
 mission to its creed, but a well-considered know- 
 ledge of its evidences and doctrines. By reading 
 with her the works of such men as Barrow, Hooker, 
 and Taylor, who did more than all painters, 
 musicians, or poets can do, to adorn religion by 
 explaining the dignified simplicity of its doctrines, 
 and the majestic purity of its faith, she strengthened 
 the mind of Beatrice to resist the inroads of mere 
 outward ceremonial and material ornament, except 
 in subordination to spiritual and intellectual devo- 
 tion, while she showed her at the same time that 
 mere human beings must not expect in this life to 
 have everything explained ; but are destined to 
 live in a scene of solemn mystery, though of im- 
 plicit faith. 
 
 One morning Lady Edith, on returning from 
 her usual round of visits among some poor people 
 sick of a fever, among whom it seemed neither safe 
 nor desirable that Beatrice should be introduced, 
 having left her young protegee at home, she was 
 surprised that she entered the house without the 
 lively girl having run out as usual to welcome her, 
 and she became still more astonished, neither to 
 find her, according to custom at that hour, cultivat- 
 ing her flowers, nor rehearsing her music. Hours 
 had passed since Lady Edith went out, and the 
 servants during that time believed that Beatrice 
 had accompanied her ; but now every search was
 
 122 BEATRICE. 
 
 made in vain, and the agitation of the whole house- 
 hold became extreme. Never was a child more 
 beloved, and her absence, which would have been 
 at any time unaccountable, began to cause the 
 most alarming apprehensions. Sir Evan, who had 
 despatched his emissaries in every possible direc- 
 tion, himself set out towards Eaglescairn Castle, 
 with a secret misgiving that Beatrice might have 
 been enticed there by Father Eustace, of whose 
 sinister desire to have her in his power the Chief 
 could not entertain a doubt, however perplexed he 
 felt to assign any motive for wishing to gain pos- 
 session of so friendless an orphan. 
 
 Lady Edith had met Sir Evan near the lodge, 
 and they were hastily proceeding together, when 
 suddenly the old soldier who had long been Sir 
 Evan's regimental servant, M^Ronald, appeared 
 as rapidly approaching as his stately military step 
 could allow. In the decline of an enterprising and 
 honourable life, he had been promoted by Sir Evan, 
 from being the most courageous of soldiers in the 
 field of battle, to be now the most dignified and 
 solemn of butlers in the dining-room, where, instead 
 of firing a volley of muskets, he daily fired a volley 
 of corks, and hoped to conclude his earthly march 
 in the service of a master for whom he had often 
 risked his life, and for whom he would any day 
 willingly have laid it down. His bronzed face.
 
 BEATRICE. 123 
 
 covered with a skin like parchment, became lighted 
 up, as it had often been on leading a forlorn hope, 
 when he approached cap in hand, saying, " Sir 
 Evan, if you please, Sir, the young lady is safe." 
 
 " How! where ?" exclaimed Lady Edith eagerly, 
 and at this moment Beatrice flew along the path, 
 and with a cry of joy rushed into her arms, and 
 clung vehemently to her, as if still under the 
 influence of some recent fright. Her whole frame 
 trembled, and her cheeks were flushed to scarlet, 
 while every now and then she once more clasped 
 her arms round Lady Edith, giving her the rough 
 eager kiss of an agitated and affectionate child. 
 The young girl, interrupted by sobs and tears, 
 related that a lady, wearing a thick veil, had entered 
 the garden that morning, and asked if she could 
 point out the shortest way to Eaglescairn Castle, 
 which she consented to do. On emerging at the 
 garden door, from whence she intended to point 
 out the path, a gentleman habited like a priest 
 joined the lady, and they both united in requesting 
 her to accompany them a short way, as they had 
 something of consequence to tell her. After thus 
 enticing her a mile or two on, the gentleman pro- 
 posed that she should leave her present home with 
 the lady who accompanied him, and who would 
 take her at once to relations all anxious for her 
 restoration to them. Beatrice said he spoke so
 
 124 BEATRICE. 
 
 eagerly that she found it impossible to get away, 
 and she had been unwillingly led on till they 
 reached a carriage. This she refused to enter, but 
 she scarcely knew how to escape, when fortunately 
 M^^Ronald appearing in his market cart, she 
 claimed his protection, and even then had some 
 difficulty in getting away. The strangers at last, 
 however, found themselves obliged to yield her up, 
 and hurrying into the carriage drove off. 
 
 For many subsequent years no more was heard 
 of any one again making an attempt on the liberty 
 of Beatrice. 
 
 Meanwhile a spirit of true gentleman-like and 
 Christian hospitality was exercised by the Chief of 
 Clanalpine towards the many distinguished guests 
 from England and elsewhere, who crowded north- 
 wards every autumn to enjoy the sporting excite- 
 ments of a gay Highland home, and while the Chief 
 delighted in the society of his relations, friends, 
 and old brother-officers, he maintained an en- 
 lightened and cordial interest in general society, 
 as well as in the study of nature, science, literature, 
 politics, and current events, on all of which sources 
 of thought he taught his young nephew also to 
 keep an eye of intelligent curiosity. 
 
 Wherever or whenever Father Eustace and Sir 
 Evan met in after years, it appeared as if they 
 had never met before, did not care to meet then.
 
 BEATRICE. 125 
 
 and never wished to meet hereafter ; hut with 
 respect to young Allan and Beatrice, the conduct 
 of the Jesuit was very different, especially after 
 the departure of Mr. Herbert to his episcopal seat 
 at Inverness left the young man for a short time 
 tutorless, and therefore, when not, as was gene- 
 rally the case, with his uncle, occasionally alone. 
 Whenever they met by accident, — and that acci- 
 dent accidentally happened very often, — Father 
 Eustace in passing spoke a few words of courteous 
 kindness to the young sportsman. If Allan were 
 fishing, he had a fly of peculiar construction, the 
 only one suited to that stream, which he taught 
 the boy how to manufacture ; he introduced him 
 to the best pools, generally within Lord Eagles- 
 cairn's boundary ; and pointed out one day to 
 Beatrice where the loveliest wild flowers abounded 
 there, and how to dry them with all their gay tints 
 remaining perfect. He lingered often with the 
 young heir of Clanalpine, when he happened to 
 be alone, and brought out all the vast resources of 
 his wonderfully trained intellect, of his wide and 
 various erudition, to interest and amuse him ; he 
 roused his curiosity with respect to books of 
 which the boy had never even heard, and at a 
 time when Sir Evan was necessarily absent for 
 some weeks, having gone to select a tutor for his 
 nephew at Oxford, to prepare him for that Univer-
 
 126 BEATRICE. 
 
 sity, Father Eustace brought these books to the 
 river side, and thus happening, by mere accident, 
 to have them in his pocket, read passages aloud to 
 Allan of the most exciting interest, which made 
 the young angler at last almost forget to land the 
 trout when he had hooked it ; but the angler of a 
 different object never for a moment forgot his 
 game. When Sir Evan returned home, and Allan 
 frankly mentioned these interviews, the Chief, 
 with a burst of uncontrollable contempt, inter- 
 dicted the continuance of such clandestine assi- 
 duities on the part of Father Eustace, and secretly 
 congratulated himself in having ended this guerilla 
 warfare of stratagem, by securing for Allan the 
 most Protestant of Protestant tutors, recommended 
 by several Protestant families of distinction, and 
 by more than one Protestant clergyman at 
 Oxford. 
 
 Never was there such a piece of still life in any 
 house as this learned treasure, the Rev. Mr, Talbot, 
 a perfect dungeon of knowledge, if he had any- 
 thing in him at all. He seemed neither to see, 
 to hear, to eat, nor to speak, but made his appear- 
 ance in society a self-contained man, with no 
 evidence of interest in anything or in any one, 
 except in his pupil, and in Beatrice, to whom 
 he obligingly volunteered some instruction in 
 history.
 
 BEATRICE. 127 
 
 Mr. Talbot now occupied Allan's time so inces- 
 santly, that it became almost impossible to obtain 
 a word of uninterrupted intercourse with the 
 young student. Mr. Talbot, with perfect polite- 
 ness, made it evident that he would not be inter- 
 fered with in his prerogative of monopolizing 
 Allan's whole time and attention, even to the 
 exclusion of his nearest relations, and by his dark 
 still glance, evidently ruled his pupil's very 
 thoughts. It became an evident infringement of a 
 right, if any one spoke for above a minute to Allan, 
 who seemed under a spell, as if drawn by some 
 in\dsible chain to be always close beside his tutor, 
 while Mr. Talbot watched him with an eye that 
 seemed never to slumber. Once a-day only his 
 tutor became absent from home, and that was Bt 
 the very earliest peep of the morning light, long 
 previous to the hour at which Allan was accus- 
 tomed to rise ; and before he was thoroughly 
 awake every day, he heard Mr. Talbot's door 
 gently opened, and his step going stealthily down- 
 stairs ; but during some time he felt only the most 
 profound pity for any man leaving his bed at so 
 uncouth an hour. 
 
 One morning, however, when the weather had 
 become insufferably cold, and the howling wind 
 sent the rain in torrents on his window, it did fill 
 Allan with wonder that any one could persuade
 
 128 BEATRICE. 
 
 himself on any terms to go out, and feeling a 
 momentary curiosity to learn if Mr. Talbot really 
 had faced the blast, he hurried to the window and 
 saw him buffeting along through wind and rain 
 towards Eaglescairn Castle. Allan then proceeded 
 to clean his gun, arrange his flies, and perform 
 other boyish evolutions, which occupied nearly 
 two hours, at the end of which period he happened 
 to look up, and with surprise perceived Mr. Talbot 
 again at some distance, taking a hurried and very 
 cordial leave of Father Eustace, who was evidently 
 anxious to avoid being seen. 
 
 The unsuspecting Sir Evan confided implicitly 
 in the intrinsic excellence of his inaccessible 
 inmate, Mr. Talbot, and only regretted that so 
 great a scholar, and such a perfect treasure, was 
 not more sociable in his habits. " Dumb as a 
 dormouse!" he muttered to himself one day, 
 gazing in astonished perplexity at this "man- 
 machine," as Sir Evan called him. *' Mr. Talbot 
 is so secret, Allan, that he would, if he could, 
 conceal from all London for a week what o'clock 
 it is. His reserve casts a great black shadow on 
 our spirits, whenever he appears ! " 
 
 Meanwhile the Chief, by his own philanthropic 
 exertions, had, as his old military servant M^Ronald 
 expressively observed, "added tails to many a 
 working man's jacket, without taking them from
 
 BEATRICE. 129 
 
 the richer man's coat." The crumbling mud-hovels 
 of Clanmarina had been gradually replaced by 
 good stone-and-lime cottages, and on the extensive 
 Cairngorum property, " every rood maintained 
 its man." Bee-hives and flowers in the cottage- 
 gardens, with here and there a bird-cage in the 
 windows, among flaring scarlet geraniums or 
 hydrangeas, indicated the increasing comfort and 
 happiness of the inmates, while Lady Edith jest- 
 ingly remarked one day, when the family party 
 had assembled at tea, that Clanmarina had become 
 quite a modern parvenu village, which might very 
 appropriately be named, like the great street in 
 Genoa, " Nuova," or rather '' Nuovissima." The 
 good Chief, generous to his last guinea, would 
 gladl}' have extended his judicious encouragement, 
 so as to enrich and benefit the starving Romanist 
 population in that half of the village not his own, 
 where the poor were made poorer every day, and 
 kept at desperation-pitch by their expensive super- 
 stitions ; but whatever money Sir Evan enabled 
 them to earn, became like water poured on the 
 sand, being confiscated by their confessor, Father 
 Eustace, the next time they confessed. 
 
 ** Indeed, Sir Evan," said Mr. Clinton, indig- 
 nantly, " the popish half of our village looks as if 
 a fragment of some such countries as we have seen 
 abroad, beggared by a grasping priesthood ; as if
 
 3 30 BEATRICE. 
 
 a morsel of Spain, or Portugal, or Ireland, were 
 transplanted into the Highlands." 
 
 "And certainly without 'benefit of clergy,'" 
 added Lady Edith, sadly ; " Mr. Eustace is a shep- 
 herd only in securing all the wool from his 
 flock, and it is a wonder that they continue to 
 submit." 
 
 " The priest persuades these poor people, to 
 whom I have spoken, that his curse can bring an 
 immediate judgment on any one he selects," replied 
 Mr. Clinton. " In some countries where I for- 
 merly resided, the priests persuaded their ignorant 
 proselytes, that they could, by a curse, metamor- 
 phose them into pigs or goats, and that it was 
 quite a favour if they did not. Among the enslaved 
 Papists of Clanmarina, they are taught to believe 
 the loss of their cow would follow the slightest 
 rebellion, or a sickness among their children. 
 His Lordship's people dare not say * puss' to a cat, 
 without obtaining leave from the man they call 
 * Father.' How decidedly does our Bible forbid 
 people to call any man in that sense * Father V " 
 
 " His influence is marvellous," observed Lady 
 Edith, turning to Mr. Talbot, who always shunned 
 conversation as anxiously as all the others courted 
 it ; " one would think that Mr. Eustace could 
 persuade a wild bird to fly into his hand ; and yet 
 I might as well expect an answer from Beatrice's
 
 BEATRICE. 131 
 
 doll as from the priest, when we refer to him about 
 our popish tenantry." 
 
 " He is not very scrupulous as to means," 
 replied Mr. Clinton. *^ Could we not hold a com- 
 mittee here, Lady Ecjith in the chair, to consider 
 that the power of Father Eustace in Clanmarina 
 has increased, is increasing, and ought to be dimi- 
 nished. To many young papists, already, his 
 examination for confessing them has been like the 
 tree of knowledge, teaching them that knowledge 
 of evil which in such an excess they could never 
 otherwise have attained. He seems to have an 
 intense curiosity in probing what have been the 
 sins and temptations of others ; and a popish 
 family of recently converted papists, say that he 
 almost likes to make a show off, by the strange 
 questions he asks, of his own knowledge on such 
 painful and dangerous subjects." 
 
 Mr. Talbot felt himself unavoidably appealed 
 to, and his reply, in a short monosyllable, came 
 booming out like a single stroke on the gong. 
 
 " Father Eustace has now established a Benefit 
 Club, to drain the village of its very latest farthing," 
 added Mr. Clinton ; " a sadly questionable benefit, 
 indeed! The very poorest are to subscribe a 
 monthly rate, for which each member on his death 
 is entitled to one mass, provided his subscription 
 has been regularly paid up. Had the Apostle
 
 132 BEATRICh;. 
 
 Peter heard of such mercenary arrangements, 
 would he not have said again, as he did once 
 before, * Thy money perish with thee ?' " 
 
 " The Pope, who claims to be the ^ Bishop of 
 Bishops,' the infallible successor of St. Peter, is of 
 a very different mind from that apostle himself, 
 who says, * We are not redeemed with corruptible 
 things, such as silver and gold ;' " replied Sir Evan, 
 turning frankly round to Mr. Talbot, who sat with 
 compressed lips and lack-lustre eyes. '^ Popery is 
 not the poor man's church, because the priests, 
 instead of saying, * how hardly shall they that have 
 riches enter the kingdom of God,' seem to think 
 that the rich only shall enter; as they alone can 
 buy themselves out of that imaginary purgatory, 
 by the terrors of which they frighten so many 
 ignorant victims into impoverishing their children, 
 when leaving their last farthing for masses in fa- 
 vour of their owm soul. I have quite an old- 
 fashioned Popophobia." 
 
 Mr. Talbot, with a strange unaccountable smile, 
 stole a short, sharp glance towards his pupil, which 
 did not so entirely escape Sir Evan's notice as the 
 tutor intended; and Allan^s face became as scarlet 
 as a cardinal's hat, while he seemed struggling 
 under a spell. 
 
 '* There is in the w-orld now," said Lady Edith, 
 while Mr. Talbot had become as grave and stolid
 
 BEATEICE. 133 
 
 as before, " a great deficiency in that wholesome 
 terror of Jesuitism, which was once the protection 
 of Britain against the greatest of evils; aid I am 
 struck with the sort of half-laughing denial people 
 give to any suspicion of their having a Popish 
 tendency, instead of indignant by repudiating 
 what a Protestant should consider involves more 
 than life." 
 
 " I am very desirous, Mr. Talbot," said Sir 
 Evan, speaking with slow deliberative emphasis, 
 and turning yet more decidedly towards that silent 
 gentleman, who still took no more audible part in 
 this discussion than the tea-urn, '' to fortify Allan's 
 mind more thoroughly against Popery than has 
 hitherto been deemed necessary in England, where 
 no danger appeared, and therefore few precautions 
 in educating the young were considered essential. 
 We should not now be satisfied with mere vag-ue 
 generalities of instruction, such as might formerly 
 have been a sufficient mental armour; but our 
 whole energies must be devoted to the subject, 
 that he may be thoroughly instructed to give a 
 sufficient reason, at all times and without difficulty, 
 for the faith that, I trust and believe, is in him." 
 
 Mr. Talbot seemed always diligently trying to 
 be neither seen nor spoken to, and now his coun- 
 tenance became even more than usually destitute 
 of expression, — his large eyes, averted from every 
 
 VOL. I. r
 
 134 BEATRICE. 
 
 one, evidently looked at nothing, and not a word 
 proceeded from liis lips ; but he had become lividly 
 pale. Allan gave an agitated glance at his uncle, 
 shifted his seat uneasily, looked down, and coloured 
 more deeply. A pause ensued — a very long pause. 
 Sir Evan gazed in scrutinising silence from Allan 
 to his tutor, and he suddenly said, in a frank, haif- 
 j ocular tone, " Pray, Mr. Talbot, did you ever 
 play at a children's game called * What is my 
 thought like?' You know all mine, but I cannot 
 guess yours. If speech was given us, as Rousseau 
 said, to conceal our thoughts, no doubt silence 
 does it still better. But, truth to say, my con- 
 versation is like bad singing, that requires a good 
 accompaniment. In short, it would be quite a 
 favour, now, if you could suggest what plan seems 
 to you best for fortifying Allan's mind against this 
 new danger of Jesuitism." 
 
 " I cannot see the danger," answered Mr. Talbot, 
 vvrith a singular quietude of voice. ''If any evil 
 seemed to threaten my pupil, it would then be- 
 come my duty to warn you and defend him." 
 
 Sir Evan became plunged in deep thought now 
 for several minutes, after which he added, with his 
 penetrating eyes fixed on his very inscrutable guest, 
 who looked, if it were possible to imagine such a 
 thing of such a man, greatly embarrassed, '' Your 
 answer might have been given by a descendant of
 
 BEATRICE. 135 
 
 the Delphic oracles, but it does not relieve my 
 mind. The avowed object of every Jesuit is to 
 render each layman a mere puppet in the hands of 
 his priest, with no more free-will thaa an empty 
 suit of clothes, to think, act, eat, drink, or sleep 
 only at the will of another mortal man — like him- 
 self, also, a sinner. Let Allan, therefore, have an 
 enlightened knowledge of all the unbounded evils 
 of Popery, that he may be prepared for that 
 struggle between truth and superstition which is 
 becoming every year more active in England, — 
 which will remain alive now, with increasing vi- 
 gour, conquering or to be conquered, so long as 
 Britain continues an island; and respecting which, 
 the present generation seem likely, in all probabi- 
 lity, to leave behind them a legacy of bloodshed, 
 anarchy, and death, to those who inherit the 
 penalty of a fatal confidence in those Jesuits, 
 who will betray every trust, except that of their 
 superior, and every authority, except that of their 
 own church." 
 
 The effect of Sir Evan's frank, open-hearted 
 speech to Mr. Talbot was like that of sunshine on 
 vinegar, making him only fifty times sourer than 
 before. When Mr. Talbot soon after rose to retire, 
 the face of a corpse could not have been so white, and 
 there was a profound meaning in his very silence; 
 but no tone or look betrayed whether he were 
 f2
 
 135 BEA.TRICE. 
 
 pleased or displeased. As usual, he gave Allan a 
 look to follow ; and then the Chief rose also. With 
 a very determined step and look, Sir Evan accom- 
 panied them upstairs, and remained nearly an 
 hour in the school-room with his nephew and the 
 inscrutable tutor. 
 
 That night Allan slept in the dressing-room of 
 his uncle, or at least he tried to sleep, for many 
 wakeful thoughts disturbed him, and next morning 
 Mr. Talbot had finally departed from the roof of 
 Sir Evan M^Alpine. He remained, however, on 
 a visit of several weeks to Lord Eaglescairn, where 
 he became the constant companion of Father 
 Eustace, though still stoutly maintaining his title 
 to be a Protestant clergyman in search of truth 
 and perplexed with difficulties. 
 
 " Mr. Talbot would not be a Jesuit if he 
 acknowledged himself one. Strange things happen 
 in the world every day for which one cannot 
 account," observed Lady Edith anxiously. " I 
 wish Mr. Talbot may not be himself one of that 
 mysterious and most formidable brotherhood, for 
 they would enter a Protestant family, promising, 
 like the Paris boarding-schools, to teach ' every 
 accomplishment and any religion that may be 
 preferred.'" 
 
 " Secrecy is the main feature of the Jesuits, 
 and it is also their main strength," said Sir Evan
 
 BEATRICE. 137 
 
 musingly; then fixing his large lustrous eyes on 
 his young nephew, with a mien impressively 
 grand, for it was full of natural grace and nobihty, 
 he added, *' It seemed to me last night, Allan, as 
 if Mr. Talbot exercised a very singular influence 
 over you, and as if he were conscious of some 
 greater hold over your duty and your affections 
 than I can at all account for. The longer I think 
 of his manner to you the more I become con- 
 vinced that it was so. Explain to me at once, 
 then, what was meant by a sort of secret under- 
 standing which evidently subsists between you 
 both, and explain also frankly to your best friend, 
 what means the embarrassment I see in your 
 countenance at this moment. We have never 
 had any secrets in this house before, let us not 
 begin now.'* 
 
 " My dear Uncle," replied Allan, his face 
 drenched with scarlet and his eyes fastened on the 
 carpet, *'by no fault of mine, a secret was told 
 me, which concerns myself, and which to tell 
 would injure both Mr. Talbot and you." 
 
 " It would injure ine /" exclaimed Sir Evan 
 incredulously. " Out with it, my boy, and let the 
 penalty rest on my head. I can fear no injury 
 greater than this interruption of our entire and 
 unreserved confidence." 
 
 Sir Evan held out his hand with a smile of
 
 138 BEATRICE. 
 
 cordial aifection to Allan, who grasped it warmly, 
 but for several minutes he made no reply, then 
 suddenly looking up with his usual open and intel- 
 ligent expression he said, *' Will you trust me, 
 uncle ? Will you believe my assurance that this 
 is not a secret that relates to my religious opinions 
 at all, and there are two individuals w^ho w^ould be 
 greatly damaged, in some respects, were I to 
 reveal certain circumstances mentioned by Mr. 
 Talbot." 
 
 " And I am one of those two individuals in 
 jeopardy?" asked Sir Evan with a tone of undi- 
 minished disbelief. " Well ! you never deceived 
 me, Allan, and I see that in your eye which con- 
 vinces me you are not deceiving me now ; but, 
 Allan, you are deceived. Mr. Talbot treats you 
 already like a puppet, for as he pulls the wires 
 you must dance ! " 
 
 ** I think not. I think Mr. Talbot meant 
 kindly, though I wish he had consulted my wishes 
 before telling me anything that you must not 
 know. I feel, my dear uncle, that to any one less 
 generously candid I should appear very much in 
 the wrong. It might have caused you to with- 
 draw your confidence from me entirely." 
 
 " No, Allan. We have long understood each 
 other, and if it rained secrets into this house at 
 ever}' window, Mr. Talbot shall make no division
 
 BEATRICE. 139 
 
 between you and me, if T can prevent it. Allan 
 and Beatrice, ray dear young friends, — were these 
 the last words I am ever to speak to you both, 
 I should say this; and if you forget all else that 
 I ever said to you — if you forget me and all the 
 love I have borne you, still remember this — 
 Beware of a Jesuit. As you value truth, honour, 
 independence, and a direct access to your own 
 Creator, avoid a Jesuit. Guard your Protestant 
 principles now, as you would guard the flickering 
 light of a taper in a storm. I know not W'hy, but 
 there is an unusual solemnity in my thoughts to- 
 day. Is it that sonie coming event has already 
 cast its shadow on my spirit ? None can tell ; but 
 be the events of life or death as God ordains, 
 nothing can be a real evil, dear children, to one 
 who adheres to his Bible and to the promises 
 which it addresses to all. Come what may, I am 
 ready." 
 
 After a pause of very earnest thought. Sir Evan 
 continued, — "The founder of these formidable 
 Jesuits is said in history to have been either the 
 greatest saint or the greatest hypocrite of his time, 
 and I have little doubt myself of what he was, 
 any more than I have now that Mr. Talbot has 
 most shamefully deceived us. Remember, then, 
 that the doctrine of infallibility in their own 
 church is the only support of the Jesuits through 
 all the strange delusions they teach, and without
 
 140 BEATRICE. 
 
 that belief there would be a rent in the balloon 
 that must bring it at once to the ground. Theirs 
 is an Icarian flight with wings that melt before 
 the sun's light ; but you have a very excitable and 
 vivid imagination, Allan ; therefore beware. As 
 for Mr. Talbot, how truly has Lord Bacon said of 
 such men, * Hollow church papists are like the 
 roots of nettles ; which themselves sting not, but 
 yet they bear all the stinging leaves.' " 
 
 From that day Sir Evan never rested till he had 
 placed Allan, now a model of health, strength, and 
 beauty, at Oxford, where he not only distin- 
 guished himself in every learned acquirement, but 
 likewise in all athletic exercises. No one equalled 
 him in pulling an oar, in spearing a salmon, in 
 hurling his cricket-ball like a thunderbolt, or in 
 clearing every fence in the hunting-field ; yet so 
 gracefully did he bear all his newly acquired classical 
 laurels, that while all applauded not one among 
 his companions ever envied him. Many were the 
 rival achievements on land and water, during 
 which he came in competition with others, and 
 none could excel Allan M^ Alpine in feats either 
 of strength or of dexterity, till at length Sir Evan, 
 delighted and happy at the brilliant success of his 
 promising young nephew and heir, jestingly quoted 
 Byron to Mr. Clinton, saying — 
 
 " I'd send him out betimes to college, 
 For there it was I pick'd up my own knowledge."
 
 BEATRICE. 141 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 *' Princes and priests may flourish and may fade, 
 A breath can unmake what a breath hath made. 
 But a bold peasantry, their country's pride. 
 When once destroy' d, can never be supplied." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Some of Lord Eaglescairn's villagers, struck 
 with the obvious fact that they existed only as 
 impoverished slaves to Father Eustace, were at 
 length heard to speak of Sir Evan occasionally, 
 with tears of admiration, and would gladly have 
 sent their children to the Clanalpine Schools, 
 where the Chief would as gladly have welcomed 
 them, but both priest and peer forbade their doing 
 so under penalty of excommunication. The Popish 
 landlord and his confessor were quite aware that 
 " Knowledge is power," but that was a power 
 which they were determined not to extend in the 
 village, that as many deluded votaries as possible 
 might still submit in body and soul to the blasting 
 dominion of Popery. Sir Evan, accustomed to 
 consider all mankind as the "hoping, trembling 
 creatures of one God," held wide open the door of 
 f3
 
 142 BEATRICE. 
 
 knowledge for all, but his benevolent endeavours 
 to enlighten these ignorant Romanists were neu- 
 tralized by Father Eustace, whose sole object was 
 by keeping them ignorant, superstitious, and bru- 
 tralized, to render them all as implicitly obedient 
 to him as a dog to his master. In their abject 
 superstition, the Popish villagers were without 
 will, thought, liberty, or intelligence, except 
 through the despotic sway of their priest. Their 
 homes were dirty, dingy, and every way detestable, 
 while candles enough were burned, at the expense 
 of these poor deluded villagers, in the chapel, 
 during a year, to have illuminated St. Peter's. 
 Among these misguided peasantry it proved most 
 sadly true that wherever monks are in the greatest 
 force, religion is in the least, and that where there 
 are confessionals, there shall be abundance to con- 
 fess ; for not more soiled, degraded, and disordered 
 were their homes than their consciences, while the 
 absolution of Father Eustace could do no more to 
 purify their souls, than the words, '* Be ye warmed 
 and clothed " could have administered the neces- 
 saries of life to their bodies. 
 
 Sir Evan, with Lad}^ Edith, and their two young 
 proteges, taught in every cottage the great truth of 
 truths by simply distributing and reading the Bible, 
 while at the same time sending the people instructors 
 in every simple branch of rural education. Sometimes
 
 BEATRICE. 143 
 
 Allan and Beatrice were allowed, as a reward, and 
 a most welcome one, for their diligence in the 
 school-room, to present a Bible of the largest type 
 to " the oldest inhabitant," or to the most indigent. 
 Then to witness the joy with which this precious 
 gift was received by the honest-faced, open-hearted 
 peasantry, gave to those young people a deep im- 
 pression of its inestimable value, while this con- 
 viction of its unspeakable worth increased day by 
 day, when they saw how devotedly it was studied 
 by Sir Evan himself, and how it served as his 
 revered guide to all the good he did, to all his hopes 
 of happiness here and hereafter. 
 
 Beatrice was astonished about this time to re- 
 ceive a large box of books, sent to her anonymously, 
 with a few lines inclosed, saying, " These are the 
 works of Protestant authors, and if you have any 
 desire ever again to see your unknown relatives, 
 read them carefully alone, show them to no one, 
 and consider well their contents." 
 
 Beatrice felt greatly agitated by this first acknow- 
 ledgment which had ever reached Scotland since 
 the one adventure of her being kidnapped in child- 
 hood, that a living individual beyond the walls of 
 her present home felt any interest in her fate and 
 feelings. It seemed to take the weight of worlds 
 off her heart to think that some one knew her 
 origin. Nevertheless, Beatrice took the box in-
 
 144 BEATRICE. 
 
 stantly to Sir Evan and Lady Edith, and at once 
 showed them the letter, saying with tears of deep 
 emotion, " I prefer known benefactors to unknown 
 relatives ; tell me then what I ought to do ? " 
 
 The volumes were all beautifully bound, and 
 proved on examination to consist entirely of those 
 little flimsy novellettes, written to starve rather than 
 to nourish the young mind, and pronounced by very 
 juvenile readers to be " so pretty ; " painting most 
 distressing pictures of actual life, and most attrac- 
 tive pictures of the peace, piety, and safety to be 
 found in conventual seclusion. In the first w^hich 
 Lady Edith opened, there were described a ver}^ 
 interesting nun, living among flowers and music, 
 contrasted with a very miserable married woman, 
 bufietting through a world of home-felt miseries, 
 and then the death-bed of the nun was delineated 
 when she ended her useless life in a rapture of 
 impossible ecstasy, having not only done all her own 
 duty, but left behind her a store of superfluous 
 virtue to assist in tlie redemption of others. 
 
 " Such is the sugared poison administered in Pro- 
 testant school-rooms now," said Lady Edith, ^' on 
 subjects which were formerly to be found only in 
 works of acknowledged theology, and of a distinct 
 tendency openly acknowledged by the author; but 
 all such secret machinations should be denounced 
 in public and counteracted in private by every
 
 BEATRICE. 145 
 
 honest, straightforward Protestant who is what he 
 seems." 
 
 Lady Edith kindly proposed that she and Bea- 
 trice should study the contents of that mysterious 
 present together, which had arrived so unaccount- 
 ably, and for many a long day afterwards it fur- 
 nished them with wonder to think where could be 
 the Protestantism said to exist in such books, 
 though nothing but the practised acuteness of Lady 
 Edith could have clearly pointed out to her young 
 companion where the full danger and the secret 
 Romanism were lurking, and many a parent putting 
 these books with an admiring panegyric into the 
 hands of his children, would have wondered after- 
 wards what could possibly have given his young 
 people the first bias to Popery. " Many, many such 
 books, now," said Lady Edith, "are like the basket 
 of fruit brought to Cleopatra, with the adder con- 
 cealed in its depths; and the imaginations of chil- 
 dren once bitten by Romanism, what parent can say 
 to that fearful evil, 'So far shalt thou go, and no 
 farther ! ' " 
 
 Sir Evan had always encouraged the young 
 people to awaken and indulge their imaginations 
 by the good Old Mother Hubbard hterature of his 
 own boyhood, the strange imagery and picturesque 
 narratives of which can lead to no ultimate bad 
 effects, and are far safer outlets to that love of the
 
 146 BEATRICE. 
 
 marvellous inherent in poetical temperaments, than 
 the legends of St. Patrick swimming across the 
 channel on a paving-stone, St. Raymond being 
 transported over the sea on his cloak, or St. 
 Simon of the pillar standing immovably on the 
 top of a column, and bov^ing his head down to his 
 feet 1 1 ,550 times during twenty years ; an example 
 gravely held up for imitation by Papists to the 
 rising generation, and which would render them in 
 a new, though not very useful sense, pillars of the 
 church. Should modern Cardinals succeed in 
 making many such modern saints, the statues now 
 adorning the summit of many a tall column will 
 have a struggle for their places, and new St. 
 Simons will promote themselves to the highest 
 elevation, mce Pitt or Fox, Nelson or Melville, 
 superseded. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn, filled with jealous contempt 
 of Sir Evan's efibrts to improve his clansmen, and 
 being himself also a zealous promoter of ignorance 
 in all its branches, was in the habit of declaring 
 that he would sooner expect gratitude from a flock 
 of sheep, if he placed them in a better pasture, 
 than from a gang of Highlanders, if he improved 
 or benefited them ; but the Chief laboured for a 
 higher motive than to obtain gratitude, however 
 deeply it pleased his excellent nature to meet with 
 any. His great object was to solve the difficult
 
 BEATRICE. 147 
 
 and very important problem of how to do good by 
 the most effectual promotion of piety, industry, 
 and intellectual improvement. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn became every year more keen 
 
 as an advocate for the total prostration of his 
 
 village tenants to mere mechanical obedience ; not 
 
 the enlightened attachment of head and heart to 
 
 spiritual and temporal influence, but the animal 
 
 drudgery of mere unreflecting submission to the 
 
 authority of their priest and of their landlord. 
 
 Sir Evan had the highest estimate of human 
 
 nature, of its vast capabilities and noble destiny ; 
 
 therefore his great endeavour was, by universal 
 
 courtesy, and by unsparing efforts, to elevate each 
 
 individual above the mere dregs of his nature, and 
 
 he lived most in accordance with his own spirit, 
 
 when diligently pursuing at every personal or 
 
 pecuniary sacrifice the most enlightened plans for 
 
 becoming the father and benefactor of his clan, 
 
 leading them upward as he led them onwards, in 
 
 the difiicult path of those Christian principles, to 
 
 be clearly traced out in a continual and prayerful 
 
 study of their own Bibles. 
 
 Except Lord Eaglescairn and Father Eustace, 
 few could have looked at the white-washed cot- 
 tages of Clanmarina,and their sunny little gardens, 
 crowded with luxuriant vegetables, and over- 
 shadowed by apple-trees, without tlie liveliest
 
 148 BEATRICE. 
 
 admiration of Sir Evan's victorious benevolence, 
 and the passing traveller often gave a sigh now to 
 think that his own lot had been cast far from such 
 a scene of rural beauty and peaceful industry. 
 If Sir Evan, in housing the houseless, indulged, at 
 a very considerable expense, his natural taste for 
 the picturesque, by giving in the little Highland 
 village a somewhat Swiss character to the archi- 
 tecture, that little extravagance, to his refined 
 taste a great luxury, was warranted by the enor- 
 mous hoards bequeathed him at Sir Allan's death, 
 while he smilingly threw the whole blame of these 
 '* architectural vagaries " on his young companions, 
 who delightedly accepted the imputation, and 
 laughingly said they wished every house to be 
 in the M Alpine school of architecture. 
 
 Surrounded by labour and laughter and light- 
 hearted poverty, Allan often asserted that his 
 uncle might safely offer 100/. in Clanmarina for 
 the discovery of a single weed, or a single neg- 
 lected human being, without being able to detect 
 one. Before 1840, Sir Evan had indeed achieved 
 everything except impossibilities, and his own 
 half of the village was transformed, as by a ma- 
 gician's wand, into the most perfectly lovely 
 hamlet that poet or artist can represent. The 
 houses " grew in beauty side by side," adorning 
 natural scenery such as Canaletti might have been
 
 BEATRICE. 149 
 
 proud to paint, and enlivened by the fine salmon- 
 stream, whirling and foaming like quicksilver 
 along the momitain side. It was said once by an 
 ancient king of Spain, that *' cities, like children, 
 cry when they are washed ;" yet the white-washing 
 of Clanmarina, and all the other judicious benefits 
 conferred on it by Sir Evan, caused nothing but 
 open-mouthed gratitude and pleasure to all who 
 witnessed or shared in the embellishment and im- 
 provement of the place and its inhabitants. The 
 beggarly contrast of crowded popish hovels in rags 
 and tatters, arm in arm with the more prosperous 
 protestant dwellings, reminded Lady Edith of the 
 tyranny now exercised at Naples, where persons 
 of the most distinguished family are not only 
 i Jiprisoned, but each person of refined feelings 
 and education is chained to the most degraded 
 malefactor that can be found ; and this loathsome 
 companionship has been continued under popish 
 tyranny night and day, for long hopeless years of 
 anguish and disgust. 
 
 It was a chivalrous sight to see Sir Evan, who 
 kept up all the feudal magnificence of his ancestors, 
 setting forth day after day for the moors or the 
 salmon-fishing, equipped in his graceful plaid, and 
 followed by his gallant " tail " of clansmen, and 
 by all the numerous visitors who enjoyed his 
 splendid hospitalities at Cairngorum Castle. He
 
 150 BEATRICE. 
 
 was a princely Chief. Sir Evan kept the best 
 pointers, greyhounds, and horses, as well as the 
 Lest grooms and gamekeepers throughout the high- 
 lands, and his hardy tenants honoured their Chief 
 the more enthusiastically, because he could have 
 carried off the prize himself at all their competi- 
 tions of strength and agility. The clansmen tri- 
 umphantly hailed him as the best deer- stalker, the 
 best shot, and the best salmon-fisher in the district, 
 as well as the best of men. 
 
 Thus loved and respected by all classes, with 
 sentiments of respect and attachment which never 
 diminished, Sir Evan at the end of twelve super- 
 latively happy years, gave his usual birthday 
 dinner, which had taken place every successive 
 October since he succeeded to his clan, with all 
 the feudal grandeur of ancient times. What 
 heart might not have felt a noble envy of the good 
 Sir Evan, at this gay village festival, which was a 
 model of rural felicity and innocent enjoyment, 
 when beholding the beneficent change which his 
 own labour, his own liberality, his own prayers, 
 his own practical, vigorous, and well-considered 
 benevolence had at last accomplished : and when 
 in a wild burst of enthusiastic cheering it was 
 eagerly acknowledged by many a warm heart 
 around, the flashing eye of Sir Evan became yet 
 brighter with pleasurable excitement, and a flush of
 
 BEATRICE. 151 
 
 deep emotion was on his cheek. The Chief, happier 
 himself than usually falls to the lot of man, con- 
 sidered it a great deformity in country life, when 
 there is too wide a gulf of separation between 
 landlord and tenant : as he in his own ^sphere 
 laboured for the indigent, they in their sphere 
 laboured with their whole hearts for him, while 
 the poorest, the weakest, the most helpless and suf- 
 fering, found their own beloved Chief ready always 
 with a word of sociable kindness to each, when 
 cordially associating his feelings with theirs. It 
 produced a humanizing influence on the most 
 abject or uncultivated, in rousing them to energetic 
 efforts for themselves, when they saw so cheerful 
 and unaffected an interest for their welfare testified 
 by the honoured Chief, who was chief in every 
 virtue, and chief too in being the benefactor of 
 every M*^ Alpine whom it was possible for him to 
 serve. 
 
 Such highland chiefs there are yet, such there 
 have been, and may such long abound : 
 
 " For he has left 
 Deposited upon the silent shore 
 Of memory, images and precious thoughts, 
 That shall not die, and cannot be destroy' d." 
 
 Wordsworth.
 
 152 BEATRICE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Weep not for fair hopes crost ; ^ 
 
 Weep not though friends grow cold 
 Weep not that death should part 
 Thine and the best-loved heart 
 But weep — weep all tliou can — 
 Weep — weep because thou art 
 A sin-defiled man." Trench. 
 
 The life of Allan and of Beatrice, who were both 
 now nearly grown up, had been one of ceaseless 
 enjoyment, and having reached to the ages of 
 nineteen and sixteen, they felt that year after 
 year as it vanished away had been one of unbroken 
 felicity as well as uninterrupted companionship. 
 Their long walks with Sir Evan, and yet longer 
 rides, their sea-side strolls with Lady Edith, 
 and their long fire-side conversations with both, 
 their extensive course of reading, and the wide 
 circle of agreeable society which they met every 
 successive season, had matured their young minds 
 with an early knowledge of life in all its mysteries 
 of thought and of feeling, — perhaps also of 
 romance. Already many a visitor had admired
 
 BEATRICE. 1 53 
 
 Beatrice flitting like a young fairy in the hoary 
 old towers of her highland home. AU'eady one 
 boisterous old boy of a hunting squire had actually 
 proposed to her, and already Allan had discovered 
 that among all Sir Evan's stranger guests there 
 was an eclipsing beauty and an irresistible fascina- 
 tion in the companion of his daily life which none 
 could rival. Already the poetry and romance of 
 existence were begun to Allan and Beatrice. 
 
 Few ever had a more exquisite enjoyment of life 
 than Sir Evan, whose feelings were high and pure 
 as the sun-light glittering on his native mountains. 
 The good Chief, now in the glorious zenith of his 
 manhood, seemed literally fenced about with pro- 
 sperity, and laughingly said in a serio-comic voice 
 one morning to Lady Edith, " How very soon 
 the grow^th of children and of trees has made me 
 feel old. This is my fortieth birthday, and already 
 I am overshadowed by forests of my own planting, 
 as well as over-topped by my own young nephew. 
 I really feel," he added, in a tone of oddly 
 mingled distress and delight, " as if our cup were 
 so full that in this stormy world it cannot last." 
 
 Sir Evan stepped gaily forth into the dazzling 
 brightness of a sunny morning, buoyant with the 
 energy and vigour of his high-souled intellect and 
 elastic spirits. With his own peculiar whistle he 
 summoned a very willing companion in Allan, to
 
 154 BEATRICE. 
 
 go his usual round with him of pleasure and busi- 
 ness. They conversed with, the factor, inspected 
 the schools, invited the Clintons to partake of Sir 
 Evan's birthday dinner, visited the invalid gardener, 
 looked at the horses, admired Allan's pony, marked 
 several trees for cutting down, for he was a great 
 tree-ologist, planned one or two new cottages, and 
 still as the good Chief proceeded from place to place 
 conversing pleasantly with his nephew or with his 
 clansmen, he lost no opportunity, 
 
 " To press tlie liberality of heaven 
 Down to the laps of thankful men." 
 
 Allan had now grown into being a brilliant- 
 looking youth, in eager pursuit of dazzling adven- 
 tures. There was in the expression of his beautiful 
 features an engaging frankness, as if he had neither 
 the vdsh nor the power to conceal a thought; and his 
 nobly-formed figure displayed a degree of elasticity 
 and strength which enabled him to excel as he did 
 in every exercise. Allan, encouraged by his good- 
 humoured uncle, who always treated him now as an 
 actual personage, had a laughing remark or a kind 
 word for every clansman they met, and well every 
 M'^Alpine knew that it came direct from the kindest 
 of hearts, as well as the ha})piest. Allan was, in 
 short, on this day, the most perfect personification 
 of human felicity. He could have sung like a lark, 
 in the airy vivacity of his spirits, and talked a world
 
 BEATRICE. 155 
 
 of pleasant exaggerated nonsense to his equally 
 animated uncle, while it seemed for the moment 
 as if the shadow of affliction had never once flitted 
 across the path of either, nor ever darkened their 
 anticipations of life. It was a sight that might 
 have reconciled a misanthrope to human nature 
 and to human life. 
 
 Yet Allan had one secret care, scarcely confided 
 even to himself. He had recently discovered how 
 deeply and fervently he loved Beatrice, though it 
 was evident that a thousand impediments must 
 prevent his even hinting his attachment to the 
 almost idolized object of it^ and still more to his 
 uncle. Frank and open-hearted himself, the con- 
 duct of Beatrice had lately perplexed him. Hither- 
 to their sympathy had been perfect and unbounded, 
 united, as their every feeling had been from in- 
 fancy ; and till very recently he had believed that 
 nature, which had formed two young hearts for 
 each other, would triumph in uniting them for 
 ever. When had they not shared the same plea- 
 sures, wept for the same sorrows, looked forward 
 to the same projects, conceived the same fancies, 
 and shared the same troubles? But now he ob- 
 served an unaccountable change. There was on her 
 countenance sometimes a sort of dreamy serious- 
 ness, and in her manner a fitful agitation, which 
 astonished and perplexed him, and of which he
 
 156 BEATRICE. 
 
 longed, as well as intended, to ask an explanation. 
 But this day of brightness and sunshine raised the 
 spirits of Allan, scattered every darker thought, 
 and enabled him at once to put all his old half- 
 ruined chateaux en Espagne into fresh repair, and 
 into a style of more gorgeous architecture than 
 ever. Beatrice must one day be his ; for who 
 could deserve her better by loving her more, or 
 even half as much ? 
 
 When tracing their steps homewards after sun- 
 set through Sir Evan's extensive deer-forest, Allan, 
 with the wild glee and squirrel-like activity of 
 boyhood, had sprung over walls and ditches in 
 playful pursuit of his dog, when he suddenly 
 observed, with great admiration and delight, a 
 noble herd of deer advancing from Lord Eagles- 
 cairn's boundary towards him. The forked antlers 
 and graceful dignity of the stags in advance re- 
 minded Allan of the military movements of a regi- 
 ment, and while he paused to observe their mo- 
 tions, the gamekeeper of Lord Eaglescairn, who 
 had not observed young M^Alpine, suddenly 
 fired at the majestic leader of the drove. The 
 noble animal instantly fell forward on his knees, 
 but the next moment, making a rapid bound, re- 
 covered himself, and with the speed of lightning flew 
 towards the place where Allan now stood crouching 
 behind a tree, and vainly seeking concealment.
 
 BEATRICE. 157 
 
 Sir Evan, alarmed for his nephew's security 
 from the wounded and infuriated animal, saw 
 with consternation that the keeper had slipped a 
 fine deer-hound which he had previously held 
 back, but which now rapidly gave chase to the 
 enraged and wounded stag. Terror gave speed 
 to the excited and powerful animal, which made 
 directly towards Allan, with a rapidity and strength 
 neither to be resisted nor evaded. In an instant 
 young Allan was thrown down, and would have 
 been transfixed to the ground the next moment, 
 had not the Chief, though armed only with a 
 stick, sprung forward, and with calm resolution 
 placed himself in readiness to await the onset. 
 
 The stag, maddened with pain and terror, rushed 
 upon Sir Evan, but Allan, struggling up to his 
 feet, flew to his uncle's assistance. A short but 
 severe struggle ensued, which might have ended 
 well ; but suddenly the crack of a rifle was heard 
 from behind a tree ; the gamekeeper had fired 
 before he perceived that the stag was not alone, 
 and in an instant the noble form of M'^ Alpine's 
 Chief lay mortally wounded on the grass. 
 
 Sir Evan had shouted to warn the gamekeeper, 
 but not in time. The turf in a moment was 
 saturated with blood, and Allan, uttering a wild 
 shriek of anguish, and forgetful of ail else but his 
 uncle's danger, threw himself on the ground by 
 VOL. I. G
 
 158 BEATRICE. 
 
 his side, and tried to staunch the blood that flowed 
 in rivers from Sir Evan's side. Pale faces gathered 
 round, with looks of horror, and trembling voices 
 murmured in accents of grief, yet all seemed as a 
 wild dream to Allan, while, with frantic efforts, he 
 tried to bandage up the gaping wound. Still 
 there was a slight tremor in Sir Evan's limbs which 
 gave Allan a faint hope that life was not yet ex- 
 tinct ; but his hopes were of short duration, while 
 from the chaos of his bewildered soul there issued 
 a groan which might have pierced the very ear of 
 death. 
 
 For one short moment the dying Chief opened 
 his eyes, and gazed with a faint slow glance on the 
 bright blue sky over his head, on his own far-off 
 hills, on the noble towers of his long-cherished 
 home, and on the face of his much-loved nephew. 
 His gaze lingered on Allan. It was a look of 
 sad and solemn farewell ; then, stretching out his 
 hand to him for the last time on earth, he, with 
 a gentle sigh, closed his eyelids, never more to 
 see the light of day. 
 
 For the first time in his life, young Allan was 
 now in the presence of death ; but his conscious- 
 ness had fled, and during a length of time he 
 remained with Sir Evan's hand clasped in his own, 
 completely insensible. Never was there a bitterer 
 sorrow than among the mourners around, nor did
 
 BEATRICE. 159 
 
 there ever follow behind any corpse a sadder caval- 
 cade than that which bore the lifeless body of Sir 
 Evan to the castle. There were not few who felt 
 as if they could willingly have died for their Chief, 
 while all wept at the thought, that from the many 
 he loved, and from the many who loved him, their 
 noble-minded benefactor was gone for ever. His 
 kind heart, his high spirit, his generous schemes, 
 his bright talents, his earthly hopes, were all now 
 to be buried in the dust ; but there was a glorious 
 confidence remaining for those who had shared his 
 pious hopes, that though he rested from his la- 
 bours, his works would follow him. A small Bible, 
 which had been for years his inseparable companion, 
 was afterwards found in his pocket, whence for 
 many a long year it had never been absent ; and 
 in his desk was a letter to Allan, written many 
 months before, full of all the affectionate counsel 
 that a dying parent might have given to his only 
 son, and fervently recommending from his own 
 experience a life of energetic Christian usefulness 
 as the happiest that this short-lived world affords. 
 
 " The hand of tbe reaper 
 Takes the ears that are hoary ; 
 But the voice of the weeper 
 Wails manhood in glory." 
 
 g2
 
 160 BEATRICE, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ** I've seen yon weary winter's sun 
 Twice forty years return ; 
 And every year has added proofs 
 
 That man was made to mourn." — Burns. 
 
 " Gone to that glory-world, let faith believe, 
 Where neither sins nor sorrows reign ; 
 And the pure dead, for whom the living grieve, 
 Heaven shall reveal in light again." — R. Montgomerv. 
 
 When Allan, after several days of delirium and 
 fever, enfeebled to the weakness of a child, re- 
 covered some recollection, his cheeks and lips were 
 as white as if there had never been a drop of blood 
 in them, and as long as he lived afterwards, the 
 colour never returned to his face. Allan's first 
 vague recollection was a frightful consciousness of 
 misfortune ; and there was around him in his own 
 room, from which Lady Edith had but a moment 
 before retired, a churchyard silence and darkness, 
 most awful and impressive to his young mind. 
 He had been three days delirious, and with re- 
 turning consciousness came the feeling that life 
 itself was an intolerable burden, since the best of 
 benefactors, the kindest of uncles, had fallen in 
 his defence. It seemed to Allan as if the world 
 itself were now suddenly come to an end ; and
 
 -BEATTIICE. 161 
 
 never had he before fully conceived the strange 
 and shadowy mystery of an everlasting state. 
 Covering his face with his hands, Allan, endea- 
 vouring to collect his shattered thoughts, meditated 
 on the awfulness of an eternity unmeasured by 
 the flight of years — a future eternity — and, still 
 more difiicult to conceive, a past eternity, a world 
 with no beginning as well as with no end, in which 
 he, like a short-lived insect, was now to act and to 
 suffer. Allan fell back on his pillow, almost 
 fainting with bodily exhaustion, while he groaned 
 in anguish that appeared to himself immeasurable 
 and without end, since now, for the first time, he 
 had been driven, as it were, to comprehend the 
 awful mystery of death. 
 
 Lady Edith and Beatrice had sat up for several 
 successive nights uninterruptedly with Allan, and 
 this was the first moment he had been left alone ; 
 but they had retired, leaving him asleep, that they 
 might weep unheeded together, and for the last 
 time gaze on Sir Evan's remains. Feeble as an 
 infant, yet unconquerably restless with the remains 
 of fever, Allan found it impossible in his agitated 
 state to remain still ; and after some time, hearing 
 under his window a low murmuring sound of sup- 
 pressed voices, accompanied by the tramphng of 
 many feet, he languidly rose, and almost staggered 
 to the window. There a sight met Allan's eye 
 which shook his soul to its very centre, while it
 
 162 BEATRICE. 
 
 riveted his gaze with awe and overwhehning 
 grief. It was a morning of glorious sunshine ; the 
 blackbirds and thrushes singing their sweetest 
 notes, and the whole glittering landscape bathed 
 in light; but far as his eye could reach stood a 
 silent multitude, clothed in black, — a gathering 
 throng, which increased every moment. Hundreds 
 had assembled there for Sir Evan's funeral, but 
 not a voice was heard, not a man could look up. 
 In every face there were mourning, desolation, and 
 awe, for it was a day to be remembered in Clan- 
 marina till the village and clan should be no more. 
 
 The church-bell now rang a measured and 
 melancholy peal ; the massive gates of the Castle 
 were slowly opened, and there issued forth a pro- 
 cession of all the farmers, clergymen, and gentle- 
 men from fifty miles round, many from a yet 
 longer distance, who had joined the mournful 
 cavalcade, which now, in the silence of unutterable 
 trrief, bore the Chief of M'^ Alpine from a long- 
 cherished home to an honoured grave. 
 
 The hereditary standard-bearer of the clan 
 carried the flag of M'^ Alpine, which fluttered 
 brightly in the sunny breeze, displaying the mark 
 of many a shot with which in centuries past it had 
 been pierced. Close behind, with a look of stern 
 but heart-broken sorrow, came Duncan M'^Ronald, 
 Sir Evan's trusted old military servant; next fol- 
 lowed the school-children, hand-in-hand, clothed by
 
 BEATJIICE. 163 
 
 Lady Edith in mourning, and tenants, friends, and 
 neighbours trooped slowly on behind. Honourt-d 
 in death as he had been honoured in life, who 
 would not say that such tears as the fatherle^s and 
 widows in their affliction shed that day to the 
 memory of Sir Evan are more to be desired for 
 the dead than monuments of sepulchral marble ? 
 
 No bagpipe sounded that day, nor was there a 
 drop of whiskey drunk in the village, but each 
 orphaned family grieved apart in their homes, while 
 seeking in secret prayer the only comfort that 
 could reach those who had lost a father, a bene- 
 factor, and such a true Highland chief on the best 
 of models as the good and chivalrous Sir Evan 
 >!•= Alpine. 
 
 He was not laid in any moss-grown vault, with 
 every awful emblem of death that can add horrors 
 to the tomb, but in a breezy slope of daisied grass, 
 railed off from a corner of the old church-yard, 
 which Sir Evan had long since prepared a d 
 adorned for himself against the time when his 
 dust should return to dusf, and his spirit to God 
 who gave it. Sir Evan had always disliked the dark 
 mouldering gloom within the old family sepulchre, 
 and the great marble urns which commemorated 
 all the former Sir Allans and Sir Evans, as if their 
 bodies had been burned like heathens; but he 
 wished his little cemetery to be planted with a 
 cedar, the emblem of his clan; he wished to lie ia
 
 164 BEATKICE. 
 
 the churchyard amongst them, and he used to 
 add with solemnity, " May many an evening sun 
 shine sweetly on my grave." 
 
 " No cares to break the long repose, 
 No rude alarms of raging foes, 
 No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
 But sacred, high, eternal noon." 
 
 In great cities and large communities, how 
 strange yet unavoidable it is to observe, that small 
 is the space occupied by even the greatest and 
 best of men in the public eye, and a single line in 
 the newspaper obituary is necessarily all the com- 
 memoration given perhaps to the most graceful, 
 accomplished, and agreeable member of society, 
 wrhose wit, vivacity, and accomplishments have 
 been the delight and ornament of every circle he 
 adorned. Often must tliose who have know^n the 
 dead pause over the business-like announcement 
 of his decease, and think that little the wide 
 world of readers can conceive how much is lost to 
 many ; when travellers in a railway carriage or 
 members at their clubs read such a simple record 
 as this, — '' Died, at Cairngorum Castle, in his 
 40th year. Sir Evan M^Alpine, Bart." 
 
 At Clanmarina that event was like the sun 
 falling out of the firmament. Old Andrew M'^ Alpine, 
 the poor idiot of the village, long the walling butt 
 of every urchin in the neighbourhood, had mus- 
 tered a few rags of mourning that day to follow
 
 BEATRICE. 165 
 
 the procession that took liis honoured Chief to the 
 home of death, and as some heedless children on 
 his return uttered a passing jest upon him, he 
 exclaimed in accents of piercing misery, while 
 tears helplessly coursed each other down his fur- 
 rowed old cheeks — 
 
 *' Dinna flyte me now, bairns. I could bite my 
 heart in two for grief. This is the blackest hour 
 you will ever see in Glenalpine. The clan and 
 the village are orphsms to-day." 
 
 " Yes !" said Mrs. Clinton to her husband when 
 these sad words were repeated to them. ^'We 
 used almost to laugh at the fanaticism of poor old 
 Andrew's attachment to dear Sir Evan, but truly 
 we may say of that best of men and of chiefs, as 
 mournfully as Southey did of Kirke White, * Just 
 at that age when the painter would have wished 
 to fix his likeness ; in the fair morning of his 
 virtues, the full spring-blossom of his hopes ; 
 just at that age hath death set the seal of eternity 
 upon him, and the beautiful hath been made 
 permanent.'" 
 
 " It is not the tear at this moment shed, 
 
 When the turf is but newly laid o'er him. 
 That can tell how beloved was the soul that's fled, 
 
 Nor how deep in our hearts we deplore him. 
 'Tis the tear through many a long day wept, 
 
 Through a life by his loss all shaded ; 
 'Tis the fond remembrance sadly kept 
 
 When all lighter griefs have faded." — Moore. 
 
 g3
 
 166 . BEATRICE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Oh ! known the earliest and esteem'd the most, 
 Dear to a heart where nought is left so dear ; 
 Though to my aching sight for ever lost, 
 In dreams deny me not to see thee here." — Byron. 
 
 Allan, when the moving multiiude, like a dark 
 cloud, passed silently out of sight, weak as he felt, 
 slowly sank on his knees and prayed. It was now 
 that he experienced the Protestant comfort of 
 pouring out his feelings to a listening Saviour; 
 and as he did so, tears at last came to his relief, 
 while in the prostration of agonised sorrow he 
 thoug^ht of him who first had taught him to seek 
 for heaven, and now was gone to point the way. 
 
 In the abject depths ot" his sorrow, Allan had 
 scarcely noticed a slight noise in the room, till it 
 was again repeated ; he felt a heavy hand laid on 
 his shoulder, and looking up with a start of asto- 
 nishment, the young mourner saw before him his 
 old tutor Mr. l^albot. 
 
 There had always been an extraordinary power 
 in Mr. Talbot's eye over Allan on the very few 
 occasions when that eye was allowed to speak, or 
 even to look. The expression he threw into it 
 now spoke the deepest commiseration for his
 
 BEATRICE. 167 
 
 former pupil, but it spoke also the perfect hope- 
 lessness of such prayers as his own, and placing 
 his hand again on the shoulder of his old scholar, 
 with a friendliness of manner which nothing but 
 actual rudeness could have repelled, he sat down 
 beside Allan, and spoke to him with masterly 
 eloquence and most plausible persuasiveness for 
 more than an hour, during which Mr. Talbot 
 alluded to those circumstances relating to the 
 speaker himself, which had before filled Allan 
 with surprise. 
 
 " You are aware," added Mr. Talbot, " that it 
 was no ordinary inducement which allured me to 
 become your tutor, and that no ordinary ties 
 exist between us." 
 
 " Yet tell me," asked Allan with agitated eager- 
 ness, " duty to my uncle's memory bids me ascer- 
 tain this point, before, even allowing for this 
 important disclosure, 1 can continue to see you 
 here, Mr. Talbot — Are you a papist?" 
 
 " I understand no such designation," replied 
 Mr. Talbot drily. 
 
 " But," continued Allan resolutely, " I must 
 know if you belong to the Popish Church." 
 
 " Even Catholics only confess to their priest, 
 Allan, and you are not mine," answered Mr. Talbot, 
 rising with a look such as Allan had not seen since 
 he was in the school-room ; but no word or words 
 could have better expressed a just indignation as
 
 168 BEATRICE. 
 
 he added, " For your good I have had some conceal- 
 ments from you. These are now explained ; if 
 there are more, await my time to disclose them." 
 
 Allan, weakened in mind and body, found it 
 easier now languidly to let the stream of Mr. 
 Talbot's remarks flow through his mind, than 
 either to resist or to stop them, and he lay back 
 in a state of almost fainting weakness, till at 
 length the door opened, and Lady Edith, pallid 
 with grief and with watching, re-entered to con- 
 tinue her attendance on the beloved invalid. 
 
 Mr. Talbot was one of those individuals who, 
 without ever appearing to look at anything, saw 
 as well behind him apparently as before, and with 
 eyes that no one could ever catch, observed every- 
 body and everything : he became conscious there- 
 fore, at once, of Lady Edith's astonished entrance, 
 but he did not really seem aware that another had 
 been added to the party. Lady Edith's surprise 
 at discovering Mr. Talbot in the room, she subdued 
 almost immediately, not to agitate Allan, who was 
 reclining back in his arm-chair at the window, his 
 teeth chattering, his. limbs benumbed, his whole 
 frame shivering, and the cold tears congealed on 
 his cheek, an image of helpless anguish. 
 
 A severe relapse brought Allan to the very 
 verge of the grave, and long weeks passed during 
 which a dry, wasting, delirious fever, which seemed 
 rapidly consuming his very existence, made it
 
 BEATRICE. 169 
 
 doubtful whether a hope could be entertained of 
 the young sufferer's recovery. 
 
 Lady Edith, resolutely extinguishing every 
 thought that might disable her for any duty of 
 ajffection, ceaselessly attended on Allan, and by 
 every soothing care tried, but tried long in vain, to 
 calm the agitated spirit of her beloved charge; and 
 the sorrowful Beatrice, while mourning with all the 
 uncontrollable affliction of youth for her benefac- 
 tor, yet became solemnly composed whenever there 
 was an office of tenderness which could be done for 
 the dear and suffering companion of all her past days, 
 now hovering apparently over a premature grave. 
 
 The balance between life and death vibrated so 
 precariously, that an atom either way would have 
 turned the scale, and there were some things in 
 the ravings of Allan's delirium, in respect to Mr. 
 Talbot, which greatly perplexed his two constant 
 attendants, Beatrice and Lady Edith. It was in 
 the depths of night that Allan at last awoke as 
 from a terrifying dream of feverish horror, to 
 consciousness. Feebly raising himself on his 
 trembling arm, he slowly drew back the bed- 
 curtain and looked out. Beside the dim light of 
 a single taper sat Lady Edith, leaning her head on 
 her hand w^hile earnestly perusing the Holy Scrip- 
 tures. She was in black, and her pale face had 
 become so wasted that Allan, in his dream-like 
 half-conscious state, felt as if it were scarcely a
 
 170 BEATRICE. 
 
 living mortal that he beheld, till at length slie 
 raised her eyes to heaven with an expression of 
 such devout and soul-felt resignation, such intense 
 feeling, and such acute anguish, that Allan never 
 afterwards forgot it. Long he lay immoveable, 
 with many a vague thought struggling through 
 his enfeebled mind, and he felt the deep solemnity 
 of that silence which was around him, as if his 
 spirit were passing into eternity. Still Lady 
 Edith continued to read on and to pray, while 
 Allan gathered composure from seeing hers; and 
 when at length Beatrice stole into the room to 
 take her accustomed place beside Lady Edith, 
 Allan felt that he once more belonged to the world 
 and its affections. Long as he had loved Beatrice, 
 it was very long before he discovered the gradual 
 progress of his feelings from a half-quarrelsome 
 boyish partiality to a deep concentrated and 
 absorbing attachment, such as the utmost resolu- 
 tion of nineteen could hardly conceal, though he 
 had scarcely dared to acknowledge it even to him- 
 self, still less to the unconscious Beatrice, who 
 might probably have replied to her young lover in 
 the language of a favourite old ballad — 
 
 " I love thee, gentle knight ! but 'tis 
 Such love as sisters bear ; 
 ask my heart no more than this, 
 For more it may not spare. 
 
 Faintly calling both his beloved attendants to 
 
 his bed-side, Allan clasped the hand of Lady
 
 BEATRICE. 171 
 
 Edith to his lips with all the energy he had left, 
 and burst into tears. Lady Edith wept, unable 
 longer to control herself, and the heart of 
 Beatrice, now the first time they had all mourned 
 together, was wrung with renewed grief. But the 
 curtain must drop over that extremity of human 
 woe which can only suffer and submit : — 
 
 " The weight of care, 
 That crushes into dumb despair 
 
 One half the human race." — Longfellow. 
 
 During Allan's lingering convalescence, it be- 
 came apparent that, though youth and a good 
 constitution had triumphed in restoring him to 
 Hfe, yet the bright colour which had glowed in his 
 cheeks was never to return. His fine countenance 
 remained always afterwards pale as marble, and 
 the expression of his splendid eyes became for 
 ever overshadowed by the gloom of a catastrophe, 
 which haunted his memory night and day with 
 ceaseless regret. From this time forth, the friendly 
 assiduities of Mr. Talbot became unceasing. That 
 inscrutable man seemed to know by intuition every 
 day when and where Allan was to go out of doors; 
 for then and there was Mr. Talbot stationed, like 
 a sentinel, quite ready, in an old-friend-of-the- 
 family tone, to express his pleasure at the meet- 
 ing, and to enter on some agreeable topic of the 
 day ; for he seemed always to know the right thing 
 to oe said at the right time. If an individual who
 
 172 BEATRICE. 
 
 has been accustomed to keep all the world in great 
 awe, and at a great distance, suddenly unbends 
 to one only, and, from ruling him with a rod of 
 iron, changes to courting him with submission, the 
 influence he acquires is very difficult to resist; and 
 in the case of the ci-devant tutor and pupil now, 
 Allan found it so. When Mr. Talbot, who had 
 been formerly the object of his reverential awe in 
 the schooh'oom, now flew up to him with assi- 
 duous kindness, and officiously volunteered every 
 little considerate attention which an invalid could 
 imagine to be required, Allan — his feelings qui- 
 vering under the anguish of a first misfortune, 
 which seemed to have prostrated every illusion of 
 earthly happiness, and left him only an inter- 
 minable futurity of sorrow — found it very difficult 
 not to seem obliged, and even gratified, by the 
 sympathising endeavours of an old friend to cheer 
 his forlorn hours of grief and sickness. 
 
 No discouragement on the part of Lady Edith 
 could for an instant be even perceived by Mr. 
 Talbot, and the *' not at home" of M^Ronald 
 seemed now to have lost its power. Mr. Talbot 
 always advanced with a look of friendly respect, 
 and with the air of a most welcome guest, who 
 must have been expected, and from whom no 
 apology was necessary, except that he had not 
 come sooner, or could not remain longer. Lady 
 Edith felt as if words had lost their meaning, and
 
 BEATRICE. 1 7S 
 
 looks their expression, when she found that no 
 earthly power of language or of glances could start 
 a single doubt in the mind of Mr. Talbot that he 
 had become necessary to the happiness of Allan, 
 and even of herself. Had the occasion been less 
 serious, she must have smiled at her own repeated 
 failures in the not very difficult art of being dis- 
 agreeable, when, again and again, she found him 
 at the Castle with Allan, eating luncheon and 
 talking Jesuitism, with no more reference to her 
 presence than if she had been a picture. 
 
 What struck Lady Edith with peculiar astonish- 
 ment was, that Mr. Talbot, since his residence at 
 Eaglescairn, seemed to have taken quite a new 
 interest in the opinions of Beatrice, to whom he 
 addressed the greater part of his conversation, with 
 an aspect of deference which, to most girls, would 
 have been irresistibly attractive; while there was 
 the charm in bis conversation of apparently entire 
 knowledge on every subject, with a perfect power 
 of seeing through everything and everybody. Day 
 after day rolled on, and the persevering visitor's 
 visits still continued ; while the discouragement 
 given by Lady Edith produced no more apparent 
 effect than a flake of snow on the summit of 
 Mont Blanc. " The block from which to cut out 
 a Jesuit, should be adamant," said Lady Edith to 
 Beatrice. *' How bitterly is it now brought home 
 to me that there exists no longer any head of this
 
 174 BEATRICE. 
 
 house to forbid Mr. Talbot's dangerous visits." 
 Lady Edith Tremoriie, suffering from her own in- 
 finite grief, and sick at heart, was herself pre- 
 paring, with mournful regret, to make a home else- 
 where for herself and Beatrice, knowing that Allan 
 must go immediately to join his father and mother, 
 now on their overland route homewards from In- 
 dia, and expecting to meet their son at Rome. 
 
 Allan, being restored, in about three weeks, to 
 some degree of health, felt that duty bade him go 
 and announce the first intelligence to his father 
 of that sad and unexpected event which had 
 placed Sir Robert at the head of his family. 
 No sooner did all the mysterious bustle of a 
 hurried departure begin at Cairngorum Castle 
 than Mr. Talbot heard of his former pupil's 
 projected flight, when he carelessly remarked, how 
 fortunately it was timed, as he also was going 
 in that direction on the same day; and, with 
 that winning attraction of manner which he could 
 assume when it suited his plans, declared he would 
 gladly pilot his young friend through all the intri- 
 cacies of his route, " unless," he added, in smiling 
 expectation of being contradicted, "you possibly 
 prefer to travel, like a Queen's messenger, alone." 
 
 Allan, looking to the dismal prospect of a soli- 
 tary journey before him, — the past, the present, 
 and the future steeped in sorrow, — in his first 
 grief, and the greatest he could imagine, — seemed
 
 BEATRICE. 175 
 
 inclined to relieve the intense unhappiness of his 
 life, by accepting a proposal so undeniably agree- 
 able ; therefore he felt almost piqued at the sup- 
 pressed consternation which he detected in Lady 
 Edith's eye and voice, calm and pale as now she 
 always was, when this proposition became first 
 started. Strong in youthful self-confidence, he 
 afterwards entreated "Aunt Edith" to make her 
 mind easy, as nothing that Mr. Talbot said on 
 religious subjects could ever influence him now. 
 *• It was only, when Mr. Talbot lived here, my 
 ignorance of the danger that caused any risk," he 
 added, confidently. " But I am as safe now a 
 Westminster Abbey." 
 
 ** Allan," replied Lady Edith, mournfully, " there 
 is a spell in the low, rich tone of that man's voice, 
 — his very eye has a magnetic influence over you; 
 and there is an allurement in his conversation, 
 when 3^ou or Beatrice are the listeners, all the 
 more irresistible because of his scornful coldness 
 to every other person. You showed the mind of a 
 Christian almost in the nursery, and had the prin- 
 ciples of a man while you were yet a mere boy in 
 the cricket-field ; yet now, dear Allan, I tremble 
 for you, — and I fear not the less from your feeling 
 of security, when falling into the hands of one 
 whose power over the intellect of others seems 
 next to supernatural. Even Beatrice listens to 
 him with an expression of pleased intelligence ; 
 while his efforts to converse with her, often and
 
 176 BEATRICE. 
 
 earnestly, alone, are so obvious and so unaccount- 
 able, that I feel bound to counteract them." 
 
 '* I should think," said Allan, decidedly, " that 
 our friend, the Bishop of Inverness, could very 
 soon silence Mr. Talbot in a regular head to head 
 argument." 
 
 *' Our excellent Bishop has the grand weapon 
 for success, in being perfect master of his subject ; 
 but the Protestant minister, in general, has one ob- 
 vious disadvantage," replied Lady Edith, thought- 
 fully. " He must prepare his mind to confute all 
 sects on their ow^n peculiar doctrines, and to show, 
 from holy Scripture, that Arians, Antinomians, 
 Socinians, "and Baptists are all wrong, as well as 
 Papists, which requires a very wide field of know- 
 ledge ; but the Romanist only undertakes the nar- 
 rowest field in the world to prove that his own 
 Church is infallible ; and, furnished with that one 
 lever, he undertakes to upset the whole world of 
 his opponents. We worship God, but the Papists 
 worship the Church, which borrows its whole light 
 from God ; and thus they prefer, in fact, the 
 moon to the sun. You should read that wise old 
 book, ' The Inventions of Men in the Worship of 
 God,' and you will find that Romanism is married 
 to Paganism, — that it is a sort of half-caste re- 
 ligion, and misleads its votaries, like an ignis 
 fatuus in the desert, flashing and flitting brightly 
 before the bewildered traveller, till he is lured on 
 to destruction^"
 
 BEATRICE. 177 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 *' My Anali ! let me call thee mine, 
 Although thou art not. 'Tis a word I cannot 
 Part from — though I must from thee." — Byron. 
 
 Wno has not lived to awaken some morninor 
 and find all the world become one dreary blank, 
 in which the light of day seems but a mockery of 
 woe? To the young hearts of Allan and Bea- 
 trice life seemed now to have lost its bloom, for 
 every scene and every sensation of their existence 
 had hitherto been associated with their lamented 
 benefactor. Deeply as Lady Edith regretted to 
 part from Allan, yet hers was never for one 
 moment a selfish nature ; therefore she even 
 hastened the event, though so deeply deplored, 
 consoling herself in all her own irremediable grief 
 with the hope that change of scene might restore 
 the elasticity of a young spirit that seemed now 
 as if darkened for ever by the gloom of a cata- 
 strophe never to be enough lamented, and scarcely 
 even yet to be realized. 
 
 Mournful indeed was the last day spent by the 
 three almost heart-broken survivors of a family 
 circle so lately the happiest on earth. The grief
 
 1 78 BEATRICE. 
 
 of Lady Edith when they met at breakfast had all 
 the depth of mature feeling, and was calm, solemn, 
 silent, yet not the less acute in contemplating 
 Allan's approaching departure ; but Beatrice, un- 
 able to control a burst of girlish sorrow for the 
 loss of her much-loved playmate and companion, 
 stole away to conceal the hot blinding tears which 
 could not be hid, and throwing herself on the 
 favourite seat of Sir Evan under an old cedar- tree 
 in the glen, where the creeping ivy twined around 
 its gnarled trunk, relieved her heart by a paroxysm 
 of unutterable grief. The more she thought of 
 her kind benefactor, of her happy home, of all 
 that was involved in the loss of both, the more 
 agonized was her sorrow, w^hile her tears fell 
 unheeded like rain upon the dead leaves around, 
 for it was autumn, the death-bed of nature. 
 
 A letter was in her hand, which she endeavoured 
 with grave perplexity to read, but constantly the 
 interruption came upon her of a fresh access 
 of tears, for the pages contained that which 
 brought to Beatrice for the first time in her life 
 that irresistible consciousness sooner or later forced 
 in the hour of trial upon every breathing mortal, 
 that, the careless joys of childhood over, the long 
 futurity of life must be one of many sorrows, 
 difficulties, and fears, of baffled hopes, of unex- 
 pected perplexities, perhaps of harrowing misery, 
 to end only in the grave. " It is the condition of
 
 BEATRICE. 179 
 
 human existence that we must suffer," thought 
 Beatrice, "and among the very few I have in- 
 timately known, how strange that all, without 
 exception, have some incurable sorrow. The sys- 
 tematic decree of Providence comes to every living 
 creature. The amiable are yoked to the unamiable, 
 the cheerful who have a perfect genius for happi- 
 ness to the moody and discontented. The poor 
 are tortured with privations, the rich with the fear 
 of robberies or bankruptcies, and those who are 
 happy enough to benefit others find ten times 
 more expected than they are able or willing to 
 do. What can this letter mean ?" At last, com- 
 pletely exhausted, Beatrice leaned her forehead on 
 her clasped hands, which rested on the back of the 
 seat, and tried to think and tried to pray, in 
 hopes of regaining power to read and understand 
 a letter clandestinely conveyed to her table by 
 some unknown hand that morning, with which she 
 was greatly perplexed. 
 
 There were thought and sensation enough for 
 r. onths struggling through the heart of Beatrice, 
 whose mind as well as her sensibility was singu- 
 larly matured for so young a girl, scarcely yet 
 seventeen, and the consciousness of her position 
 in all its circumstances, past and future, had 
 taught her to reflect with a depth and clearness 
 far beyond her juvenile years. Beatrice had long 
 enjoyed the rarest and most delightful of all
 
 180 BEATRICE. 
 
 advantages in listening to the frank, open-hearted 
 interchange of ideas on religion, morals, and so- 
 ciety between Sir Evan and all the intelligent 
 friends by v^hom he was surrounded, and who 
 could not but unmask their whole thoughts to the 
 Chief when he met them half-way with his own ; 
 and thus Beatrice had acquired in conversation, 
 even more than by reading, a fluency of thought, 
 vv^hich enabled her now clearly, mournfully but 
 steadily, to contemplate her own altered futurity. 
 
 " A child no more ! — a maiden now, 
 A graceful maiden with a gentle brow, 
 A cheek tinged slightly and a star-like eye, 
 And all hearts bless her as she passes by." 
 
 Sir Evan had, like a conscientious Christian, 
 deliberately prepared a judicious and indisputable 
 w^ill, the rarest of all compositions by the pen of 
 mortal. Though in the vigour of manhood, he 
 had contemplated the possibility of death, and 
 considerately made every arrangement that he 
 thought conducive to the good of survivors. No 
 duty to any one of them seemed forgotten. Little 
 memorials of affection to those who have deserved 
 to be loved are like a shake of the hand at part- 
 ing, an evidence of final good-v^ill ; and there were 
 those remembered in Sir Evan's bequests who 
 would have valued an old glove had it. come as a 
 token of his inestimable friendship. To aged 
 servants and dependants there were pensions, to
 
 BEATRICE. 181 
 
 intimate associates there were rings : to Lady Edith 
 there was the use of a house he had orce pur- 
 chased near the village, if she chose to occupy 
 it; and to Beatrice he bequeathed an income 
 which would supply every necessary comfort 
 during life. Many wills are a sad betrayal of 
 human caprice, of ill-will, or of indifference to 
 what shall befal survivors when the soid of the 
 writer is before his Judge to answer for its 
 contents ; but Sir Evan's will drew tears from 
 every eye by the solemn dignity of its senti- 
 ments ; and as Beatrice now recalled the very 
 words of sympathising kindness addressed in it to 
 herself, a fresh burst of sorrow overcame her, and 
 bowing down her head to her knees she wept 
 ■without control. 
 
 How often in happier hours Beatrice and Allan 
 had rested on that mossy bank, when youth, 
 health and joy had embellished the lovely cene, 
 and, gathering bouquets of the wild flowers, the 
 orchis and blue-bell, in all their gay variety of 
 tint and form, listened meanwhile to the delightful 
 stories of Lady Edith! But now this was a 
 changed world to all. 
 
 It would have been impossible for Beatrice to 
 imagine how long she had remained alone beneath 
 the old cedar-tree, with a rapid succession of 
 thoughts vvhirling. through her brain, when at 
 length it became more and more obvious to her 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 182 BEATRICE. 
 
 tiiat she must go home. At the very moment, 
 however, when Beatrice was about unv^illingly to 
 rise, she saw Allan at a distance approaching on 
 the well-known path, and evidently in search of 
 her. The next moment he was by her side, an 
 unwonted glow on his cheek, and an expression of 
 momentary pleasure in his saddened countenance 
 as he took her hand in his own, saying, — "Why 
 leave your old companion, Beatrice, to shed tears 
 alone for a sorrow that we both equally feel? 
 How can either of us exist with no one to read, 
 walk, and pray with, — no one even to quarrel 
 with? Beatrice! it all ends to-morrow 1" 
 
 " Oh ! Allan," she exclaimed, clasping her hands 
 over her eyes with anguish, " how often I have 
 been told that we know not what a day may bring 
 forth 1 How often we have used that expression 
 in jest ; but think what one to-morrow has brought 
 to us, of desolation and sorrow." 
 
 " Yes, Beatrice, and we must mourn for life ; 
 yet let it be together. I have been longing for 
 this opportunity to say something " 
 
 Allan had tried to assume a tone of careless 
 ease, but he paused in his agitated sentence, while 
 his young companion listened with a look of shy 
 and startled attention ; but instead of proceeding, 
 he began hurriedly gathering the acorns strewed 
 around, arranged them in several different forms 
 on the seat, and at last threw them all impatiently
 
 BEATRICE. 183 
 
 away, saying in a low almost inaudible voice, — 
 " Beatrice ! you will not forget me ?" 
 
 "Allan!" replied she in trembling accents, and 
 her eyes were more eloquent than even her voice, 
 " do I ever forget ? Oh, no ! I have much to 
 remember — much indeed ! happier hours than we 
 can ever have again, and all, all spent with you, — 
 all made happy by him who loved us both, and 
 whom I must never pass an hour of my life without 
 thinking of and mourning for." 
 
 " Yes, Beatrice ; but I shall be here no more 
 to sympathise in your grief. If it be more blessed 
 to give than to receive, I think it is also more 
 exquisite to love than to be loved, and the greatest 
 happiness left to me now is my devoted love to you, 
 Beatrice,'"' said Allan, a deep stain of scarlet for that 
 one moment tinging his cheek, and his voice quiver- 
 ing with emotion while she turned hurriedly away ; 
 " you have long known every thought of my heart 
 except the depth of its attachment to yourself. 
 Promise me, Beatrice, that you will one day be my 
 Beatrice." 
 
 " Oh, Allan !" exclaimed the weeping girl, in a 
 tone of unmistakeable astonishment and regret, 
 "you cannot mean it! You must not say it." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Allan, with a piercing 
 
 glance of scrutiny, while evidently shocked and 
 
 disappointed, at her obvious distress ; " did there 
 
 never enter into your school-girl's head before a 
 
 h2
 
 1 84 BEATRICE. 
 
 kind of a sort of notion, Beatrice, that our hopes 
 and fears and joys and sorrows might become even 
 more entirely united into one than they have 
 always hitherto been, that all our childish quar- 
 rels and childish reconciliations might end, like a 
 well-practised piece of music, in a harmonious duet. 
 Now give me a promise that it shall be so, and do 
 not keep gazing into that rose-bud as if counting 
 the leaves or looking there for an answer. Let me 
 look if I can find your reply hid in the leaves !" 
 
 " Allan," replied Beatrice, in a tone of mourn- 
 ful tenderness, which thrilled to his inmost heart, 
 " life has become to me a succession of sad sepa- 
 rations, and we part to-morrow ! Oh ! what a 
 farewell to us, who know not how or where we 
 shall ever meet again." 
 
 " But why, Beatrice?" asked Allan earnestly, 
 with astonishment, and with a certain degree of 
 pique at this farewell-for-ever tone, while her face, 
 figure, and whole attitude bore the impress of 
 hopeless crushing grief; " Ts it because I am 
 young, and that you consider me therefore a fool 
 incapable of being constant? Beatrice, we have a 
 sort of vested right to each other's aifections, and 
 judging by my own heart, you cannot forget me ! 
 Is our companionship of so many years to be no 
 more between us than that of the poker and tongs ? 
 I shall hate, abhor, and detest any person, whoever 
 he may be, who shall ever presume to interfere
 
 BEATRICE. 185 
 
 with my hope of gaming you. Tell me, then, 
 Beatrice, before our sad farewell is said, that my 
 love is really and amply returned. See how the sun 
 smiles on us now, as you ought to smile on me." 
 
 " Allan," replied Beatrice, with an intense effort 
 to be calm, but her white lips quivered as she 
 spoke, " my heart must never know on earth any 
 feelings but friendship. Never! Its kindest wishes 
 and prayers shall always follow you " 
 
 " What is the use of kind wishes, Beatrice, if 
 you, who could make me happy, and you onl}^ 
 never mean to consent to the only hope of our 
 having one home again ? Promise me that we 
 shall ! " 
 
 " Allan,"" replied Beatrice, in a low, almost 
 heart-broken accent, while a pang of anguish 
 thrilled through her frame, " do not ask me to say 
 what must never be said. You and I have both 
 been instructed by one who preferred duty to life, 
 and I have a very sad duty now to his memory. 
 I had no right to one of the thousand benefits 
 with which he surrounded nie ! Everybody warned 
 Sir Evan that you, the heir of his ancient house, 
 might become attached to a nameless foundling, 
 but for my sake he overlooked the danger, and 
 generously, — oh, how generously ! — gave us a 
 home together. Father Eustace, who always 
 takes a strange interest in my actions, and even 
 seems to claim some mysterious authority over 
 them, told me, when we met accidentally yesterday,
 
 186 BEATRICE. 
 
 that now the world loudly blames Sir Evan for 
 rashness, and that your relations have long been 
 indignantly remonstrating against my remaining 
 here. Think how kind it was of Sir Evan to brave 
 them all!" 
 
 " To brave whom ? I have no authentic rela- 
 tions but one uncle, (a very interfering one he 
 seems of late inclined to be,) some Irish aunts 
 who live at Rome, and my kind, good-humoured 
 father, who thinks everybody should marry as he 
 did, for love. What can any Father Eustace know 
 about Lady Dorchester, my aunt, and Miss Am- 
 brose ? What interest can he have in the matter 
 and what right has he to interfere at all ?" 
 
 " He says that in this whole county it is consi- 
 dered now the one great mistake of Sir Evan's life 
 to have brought us up together," added Beatrice, 
 while two large tears rolled slowly down her scarlet 
 cheeks, and the small hand with which she covered 
 her face shook with emotion. " But I solemnly 
 declared to Father Eustace, as solemnly as if I 
 were taking an oath in the presence of my lost 
 benefactor himself, that unless my origin become 
 known, I shall live and die, as Father Eustace says 
 I ought — nameless and solitary ! " 
 " " How can you talk such nonsense ?" exclaimed 
 Allan, in a tone of boyish petulance. "Oh! 
 Beatrice, you good-for-nothing Beatrice ! you 
 cannot love me, or you never could make such 
 a resolution. It may be all, as that cruel Father
 
 BEATRICE. 187 
 
 Eustace suggests, very right and proper, but it 
 is not what you owe to my devoted love. Mine 
 is not a common fanciful boy-and-girl attachment, 
 reared in a hot-house of balls and polkas ; but 
 remember, you unfeeling Beatrice, how long we 
 have been all in all to each other, and that mine 
 is a true, an undying, a first and only love." 
 
 " And I cannot pretend indifference to you, 
 Allan ! No ! — that would be like a slow and lin- 
 gering death ! I never loved another, and I never 
 can," replied Beatrice, in low trembling accents. 
 " Yet for your own sake, for dear Sir Evan's, 
 you never, never shall be allied to one worse off 
 than an orphan. Who on earth is there but myself 
 without a single relation ? The very poorest 
 labourer has parents, brothers, sisters ; and even 
 if they are all dead, he can sit beside their graves 
 and weep for them." 
 
 " Dear Beatrice, I cannot bear to hear you talk 
 so," replied Allan, affecting the cheerfulness he 
 evidently did not feel. " What on earth do I care 
 whether you ever had a grandmother at all, or a 
 succession of grandmothers ? Have I not often 
 advised you to build up an imaginary pedigree for 
 yourself ? The most proud and conceited children 
 in the world are said to be those in the foundling 
 hospitals, because they all fancy themselves people 
 of consequence incog. Why not hope the best, 
 Beatrice ?"
 
 183 BEATRICE. 
 
 " But 1 must not act on such vague hopes," 
 replied shel " I am, as we both know, belonging 
 to nobody, and possessing nothing, except through 
 the generous kindness of generous friends." 
 
 " Shakspeare had no ancestors, nor Milton," 
 replied Allan, assuming a genealogical look, but 
 feeling a little hypocritical, for who does not value 
 a good descent, when even in Holy Scripture itself 
 the ancestry is traced of so many ? " Some people, 
 descended straight from the Plantagenets them- 
 selves, are afflicted with a most absurd set of 
 uncles, aunts, and cousins, odd-looking people of 
 all sorts and sizes, so that they would be much 
 better, like you, without any — a group of trouble- 
 some old bores I " 
 
 There was in the manner of Beatrice at all 
 times a modesty, reserve, and timidity truly en- 
 gaging ; but now, to all the graces of youth was 
 added a degree of thoughtful sensibility, and a 
 look of ingenuous diffidence, which was evidenced 
 when Allan spoke thus, by a quick succession of 
 blushes rivalling in hue the wild rose in the hedsre 
 beside her, while a tear and a smile struggled in 
 her face for the mastery. Her ardent young lover 
 continued in accents of fervent emotion, while the 
 buoyancy of youth and natural good spirits caused 
 the cloud of sorrow for a moment to flit from his 
 brow, "Do you remember, Beatrice, that day 
 when my best of uncles called you ' the Pearl of
 
 BEATRICE. 189 
 
 Clanmarina,' and smiled when I said you were 
 the pearl of Biitain — of the whole world ? He 
 must have seen then what I felt, and did not dis- 
 approve. Now that you have confessed my love 
 to be returned, I am like a diver with the pearl 
 secured. I feel a presentiment, Mrs. Incredulous, 
 that we must end in being happy, though I would 
 much rather begin with being so, What can be 
 the meaning of Father Eustace's interference 'i 
 One would think he wished to marry you himself, 
 or to bury you in a cloister." 
 
 " Allan," whispered Beatrice, in a low tone of 
 great agitation, " the only secret I have on earth 
 is connected with the nunnery at Inverness. I 
 received this letter yesterday through Father Eu- 
 stace, and cannot hurt the feelings of my best 
 friend. Lady Edith, during our sorrow, by showing 
 her such a document." 
 
 Allan hurriedly snatched a packet which Beatrice 
 tremblingly held out to him, and was astonished to 
 find in it a strong appeal to the honour of Beatrice, 
 not to throw herself on Lady Edith, who had too 
 much sensitive delicacy to betray the inconve- 
 nience it must entail upon her now to adopt a 
 friendless orphan, and the document ended by 
 darkly hinting that there were relations ready to 
 place her in a situation of splendid independence, 
 but for the insuperable obstacle of her belonging 
 to an opposite faith — a faith which her own rela- 
 n3
 
 190 BEAmiCE. 
 
 tives would lay down their lives and their fortunes 
 willingly to destroy, could it be but crushed out 
 of the earth. Beatrice was admonished that as 
 she had been accidentally thrown among heretics, 
 and exclusively brought up by them, she must 
 naturally be quite in the dark, and it was proposed 
 as a test of her willingness candidly to consider 
 the faith of her own kindred, that she should 
 make the first use of her recently acquired inde- 
 pendence, by retiring for six months to the con- 
 vent of St. Ignatia, there to hear much relating 
 to her temporal as well as her eternal prospects, 
 of which she must otherwise remain for ever and 
 ever ignorant. 
 
 Allan paused in speechless astonishment at the 
 conclusion of this unaccountable communication, 
 and disguised as the handwriting evidently was, 
 he felt an unconquerable conviction that he had 
 seen it before. Gradually his assurance became 
 doubly sure, that the author of this letter was 
 Father Eustace, and a dim idea crossed his mind 
 of what his uncle had said and suspected formerly, 
 concerning an interest stronger than could be 
 easily accounted for having been betrayed by that 
 Jesuit priest in the fate and fortunes of Beatrice, 
 when a child; and his whole thoughts became 
 absorbed in reviving the circumstances, till recalled 
 to himself again by the voice of his much-loved 
 companion, saying, in accents quivering with emo-
 
 BEATRICE. 191 
 
 tion, *' Delay it as we may, Allan, the moment of 
 saying our long farewell must come at last. Let 
 us hope that it is not for ever; but who can 
 tell?" 
 
 " One thing I do know, Beatrice, that worlds 
 shall not induce me to relinquish you," replied 
 Allan, in a tone of good-humoured obstinacy ; 
 *' and as it is not in your nature to be fickle or 
 faithless, what then can prevent our future hap- 
 piness together ? " 
 
 ** Think not of that," replied Beatrice, in a voice 
 low and husky with grief; " I must not — dare not 
 listen to you, Allan. Brotherly affection I may 
 cherish and do value from you ; but any dearer or 
 happier hopes must for ever be denied to an outcast 
 like myself, without a name or a relative. I am 
 thankful to have you for a brother, Allan, but my 
 castle of cards must not be built a story higher, or 
 it will fall in ruins at my feet, and I should feel 
 that I deserved it." 
 
 " Then, Beatrice, you cannot love me as I love 
 you, or a whole legion of Father Eustaces could not 
 induce you to make such a resolution. It is all very 
 amiable and sensible, perhaps, but it is not love." 
 
 " Yes, Allan, it is ; but ours must be, while I 
 continue a nameless foundling, only a forbidden 
 love," said Beatrice, clasping her hands over her 
 face, in speechless grief. " Go, Allan, to your 
 father, and forget one who has no father. I have
 
 193 BEATRlCi:. 
 
 told Father Eustace thai you sh.ill be free as the 
 air we breathe, unU^ss with the consent of every 
 one who has a right to influence your choice, Allan, 
 and especially wiih I^dy Edith's." 
 
 " Then, dear Beatrice, hear a promise 1 make 
 Oil this spot, and in this hour, never to be can- 
 celled. Till we meet here again under the shadow 
 of oxu: own old haunted cedar-tree, my hand shall 
 remain irrevocably pledged to you ; and unless 
 assured by your own lips that you actually prefer 
 another, nothing earthly shall induce me to resign 
 you, — nothing but my last dying breath. Let 
 there be an entire trusiingness in our love for each 
 other, Beatrice," s;iid Allan, his speaking eyes 
 fixed on hers, with till the deep feeling of a first 
 and only love. '* To please you, Beatrice, and 
 to satisfy your very interfering advi>er, Fatlier 
 Eustace, with whom I shall have some words when 
 we meet next, there need be no other engagement 
 between us now than my unchangeable atiachnunt, 
 which nothing can alter. Surely, Beatrice, you 
 cannot doubt your own power of exciting, and 
 mine of feeling, such a love as can and shall survive 
 every vicissitude ?" 
 
 " Let us be friends — but only irieiids ! Be my 
 kind brother, as tormerly, Allan ; but our farewell 
 now must be that only of old companions, old 
 friends, and," added Beatrice, for a moment break- 
 ing into the sunshine of her own bewitching smile,
 
 BEATRICE. 193 
 
 " old foes, too, Allan ! Many a little breeze we 
 have had ! For me you shall not sacrifice " 
 
 ** Scay, Beatrice ! — there can be no sacrifice 
 between you and yours, — your own devoted Allan. 
 My first wish on earth will now be, with my 
 father's leave, to return and claim you as my 
 beautiful bride. No one shall be my friend who 
 is not friendly to you, and my heart shall always 
 continue like a cell in a monastery, with but one 
 tenant, till we meet again on this very spot, alone 
 as we are now. If you have changed — if! — 
 Beatrice, could that be ? Oh, no ! — let it be con- 
 sidered impossible. Hope tells me a flattering 
 tale ; and yet why not satisfy me with the assu- 
 rance that you love as I do ? Why look so cold 
 and constrained, and almost indifferent?" 
 
 '* Perhaps, Allan, my heart is more foolish than 
 you think it," replied Beatrice, with a conscious 
 blush and an unconscious smile ; " I cannot refuse to 
 continue in one kind heart, the cause of affectionate 
 hopes, fears, thoughts, wishes, and prayers. You 
 shall have a place in all mine. Think, Allan, what 
 you must be to one like myself, with no brother, 
 no father, not even a friend except yourself and 
 Lady Edith, yet we never shall be more than of 
 old to each other, without the consent of every one 
 who has a right to direct your actions. Nor," 
 added Beatrice, in a half-jesting tone ofseriousne-rs, 
 " not without your own consent — for who knows
 
 19 i BEATRICE. 
 
 how your constancy may be tried ? I remain where 
 every twig and every gate-post reminds me of our 
 happy rambles together, but it is said that no one 
 ever marries his iirst love, and you go where all 
 may combine to make you forget me." 
 
 *• Of course, then, I shall, Beatrice. When next 
 we meet, according to our promise here, that cas- 
 cade will be ilowing upwards on the mountain- 
 side, that blue ocean will be turned into marble, 
 I shall have left my heart with some romantic 
 novice in a convent, who prefers a bridal veil to a 
 monastic one. and you will be engaged to a Spanisli 
 troubadour who plays the guitar under your win- 
 dow. But come what may, we meet again here, 
 we open our hearts to each other, as from child- 
 hood we have always done ; and by that hope alone 
 can I be reconciled to the grief of leaving all my 
 kind friends, my dead uncle's tomb, our kind Lady 
 Edith, and my own much-loved Beatrice." 
 
 Beatrice now gave way to a stormy burst of 
 girlish tears, and neither could speak as Allan and 
 she walked home together in silence, their steps, 
 usually so airy and elastic, now pensive and slow ; 
 but in turning a corner of the shrubbery. Father 
 Eustace appeared strolling slowly along at some 
 distance. Allan instantly, colouring with a look of 
 angry irritation, started forward in pursuit of the 
 priest; but when, after advancing a few hurried 
 steps, he looked back for an instant at Beatrice, she
 
 BEATRICE, 195 
 
 had fiinted. Her swoon was long, daring which 
 AUan afanost franticallj used eTery means for her 
 lecoverj, yet she neither nioTed nor spoke. It was 
 not till he began to fear she would recoTer no 
 more, that Beatrice slowlj opened her eyes, and 
 saw Father £ustace, like an Egyptian mummy, 
 standing immoTeahle. He seemed as if in deep 
 and stem thought^ while Allan, on his knees by her 
 side, lavished every term of endearment on iiis own 
 bdoved Beatrice, No sooner did she seem entirely 
 recoTered, xhir: Father Eustace, to her great sur- 
 prise, offered Beatrice his arm, and did not again 
 take his singula-^- ~^ - rvant eyes off Allan tiU they 
 
 had all safely re . jme^ when he said in tones 
 
 of affected r^ret, " It is sad to sever the hearts of 
 those who 1 e, - — rung hearts incapable 
 
 <^ anticij^uiig du luie v^i^v.iilties in their futurity, 
 but a time is at hand when you must say a long 
 £irewell, and it were well for you both that it 
 should now be a final one. ^Ir. M^ Alpine, you 
 have a destiny to fulfil, — an important destiny. 
 Let me advise you, as the best of friends and well- 
 wishers, to remember each other as brother and 
 sis' ' IS no more, for you never can he more. 
 I k _ ::h the origin and the future destinv of 
 
 ^liss Farinelli. She never can be youis." 
 
 Allan started with astonishment and conster- 
 naticm while h'e gazed incredulously on the 
 cold stem face of Father Eustace ; but Beatrice
 
 196 BEATKICE. 
 
 trembled and looked down to conceal the tears 
 flowing in torrents over her burning cheeks ; while 
 the priest gave them what he called an expla- 
 nation of his words, which only left the subject, 
 when he concluded, considerably darker than be- 
 fore, and involved in most inextricable mystery. 
 
 " Beatrice ! " said Allan, as she hurriedly left 
 him, " for me, this world shall hold no other but 
 you ! No possible circumstance can change me." 
 
 '^ I judge of you by myself, and believe you, 
 Allan," said the youn^ girl, turning tearfully back. 
 *' Alas I how lonely we shall both feel ; how soli- 
 tary my life will seem ! When I read, sing, or paint 
 now, there will be no cheerful companion to criticise 
 or encourage me. Every flower will seem faded 
 and withered : the birds all singing out of tune ; 
 the sun become darkness ; and our own favourite 
 pool, when I look into it, will now reflect no face 
 but my own, looking sad, lonely, and perhaps, 
 Allan, even cross, as you used to call me always, 
 if I felt dull." 
 
 " Ah, Beatrice ! those were happy days," said 
 Allan, watching tenderly the blush on her cheek 
 and tie tear in her eye. *' I wish you found it as 
 hard to part from me, as I feel it to part from you. 
 
 " ' Fruitless as constancy may be, 
 
 No chance, no change, may turn from thee 
 
 One who has loved thee wildly, well, 
 
 But whose first love- vow breathed — farewell ! " 
 
 Byron.
 
 BEATRICE. 197 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " The man who first invented speaking the truth 
 was a mnch cunninger fellow than the world is apt to 
 give him credit for." — Goldsmith. 
 
 Great had been tlie unforeseen changes of the 
 last few weeks to Allan, for they had produced 
 within their narrow bounds events enough to have 
 occupied a life-time. Strange alterations were 
 now gathering round a house, lately the happiest 
 and now one of the saddest in the world ; but final 
 separations are and ought to be indescribable. 
 Allan was leaving home, to grapple with life in a 
 new scene, and to his own surprise as much as to 
 that of Beatrice, he found himself submitting to 
 the companionship of Mr. Talbot, who put so 
 plausible and pleasant a face on everything, that it 
 was impossible for the young people to look upon 
 him, even though he had evidently sided with 
 Father Eustace in his interference, as anything 
 worse than merely a blundering friend, meaning 
 kindly, but acting indiscreetly. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," replied Allan, in reply 
 to an anxious remonstrance of Lady Edith's, on ac-
 
 198 BEATRICE. 
 
 count of the increasing influence she observed that 
 Mr. Talbot had recently gained. " Some very 
 singular circumstances once transpired between us, 
 that entirely alter my view of Mr. Talbot. His 
 character is so strictly upright that he means to 
 set the leaning tower at Pisa straight as we 
 pass it." 
 
 " Allan," replied Lady Edith, with tears of anx- 
 iety filling her eyes, " I thought that nothing 
 could have aggravated all my present sorrow, but 
 to lose you in company with Mr. Talbot overpowers 
 me with alarm. You tell me he is improved, but 
 I fear only in external manner. The adder may 
 change his skin, but the poison remains. Surely 
 your uncle's decision to banish Mr. Talbot should 
 be sacred." 
 
 " He did not know a circumstance which, to 
 relieve your mind, dear Lady Edith, I must now 
 reveal in confidence. You may remember that my 
 grandfather, infuriated at my father's marriage, put 
 a codicil to his will, that if my uncle, Sir Evan, 
 ever knowingly brought an Ambrose into this 
 house, he should forfeit the enormous sum of 
 ready money Sir Allan left. Guess, Lady Edith, 
 who Mr. Talbot really is ! " 
 
 " Who?" asked Lady Edith and Beatrice in 
 breathless suspense. 
 
 " You remember, perhaps, to have heard that 
 a brother of my mother's was adopted by a Popish
 
 BEATRICE. 199 
 
 relative, who promised that he should be brought 
 up a Protestant, but who placed him to be edu- 
 cated in the Jesuit's college at St. Omer ? " 
 
 " Not surely Mr. Talbot ? " asked Lady Edith, 
 in astonishment, and with inexpressible dismay. 
 
 " No other !" replied Allan earnestly. ** I was 
 startled at first that my uncle should have entered 
 this house on false pretences, but you see there 
 was no other way in which he could gain access to 
 me, and Mr. Talbot's love for my mother made 
 him very desirous to know the son of a favourite 
 sister. He cannot influence my creed one jot or 
 tittle, but I must think that, as he says, his near 
 relationship gives him some little right to my 
 respectful attention." 
 
 Lady Edith sat like a statue of melancholy 
 amazement, and tears sprang into the eyes of 
 Beatrice, but no more passed respecting Mr. 
 Talbot while Allan remained at home, though the 
 ladies sometimes saw his dark stern face looming 
 in the distance beside Allan. 
 
 During the last hour spent together by the three 
 almost heart-broken survivors of a domestic circle, 
 so lately happier than the happiest, and now about 
 to be so sadly dispersed, Lady Edith read to her 
 two young friends the 14th chapter of St. John. 
 There was an inconceivable melody and mournful- 
 ness in the tone of her beautiful voice, when she 
 began with those consolatory words, " Let not
 
 200 BEATRICE. 
 
 your heart be troubled," and her voice trembled 
 
 at the last when she concluded. Her grief was 
 
 always now of that subdued character which, 
 
 while it shakes the very soul, shows no sign, and 
 
 Lady Edith's last words to Allan expressed her 
 
 fervent hope that they should all be again re-united 
 
 hereafter, " a family in heaven, not a wanderer 
 
 lost." 
 
 " Not a word will I say, 
 No tear, as I lose thee, my grief shall betray." 
 
 For many days afterwards the vision haunted 
 liady Edith's memory, of Mr. Talbot, seated in the 
 carriage beside Allan as they drove off. The 
 gleam of satisfaction which lighted up his dark 
 sinister eye, when the carriage-wheels were grind- 
 ing along the gravel, seemed at best exceed- 
 ingly insidious, and made her heart sink with 
 almost unaccountable misgivings ; but her atten- 
 tion was soon painfully engrossed by Beatrice, as 
 she sank down breathless and senseless on the floor 
 when the carriage finally disappeared. 
 
 It was time next day for Lady Edith to attend 
 to herself, always the last person to occupy her 
 own thoughts. Hitherto she had felt as if living 
 and acting, ever since the death of Sir Evan, in a 
 bewildered dream. The past seemed even now in 
 Lady Edith's mind to have been like that kingly 
 form once discovered in an Etruscan tomb, which 
 retained undiminished brightness and splendour.
 
 BEATRICE. 201 
 
 till at length a breath of air touched it and tlie 
 whole crumbled into dust. Even Lady Edith's 
 feelings, sublimed as they were by religious sub- 
 mission, became overawed and agitated as she 
 contemplated the solemn march of time, which 
 must carry her on through scenes of discipline 
 and sorrow, till lier lonely heart should be at rest 
 in the grave ; and folding the sympathising Beatrice 
 to her heart, she burst into tears, saying, in ac- 
 cents of solemn affection, " My very dear girl, 
 you are my only earthl}" comfort now, my only tie 
 to life. Let us be all in all to each other, in the 
 dear cottage-home which Evan so generously left 
 me. I need such affection as yours, and I know 
 it will never fail me ! " 
 
 " Never ! oh never," sobbed Beatrice, in a tone 
 of fervent emotion. " My only idea of life or hap- 
 piness is to be with you, to share all your duties 
 and all your sorrows with grateful affection, and 
 to owe my having a home, as I always did, to your 
 kindness." 
 
 " You give me sunshine for shadow, Beatrice, 
 and whatever I have done for you was more than 
 repaid long ago by the happiness you caused me. 
 For your sake I could wish to live and even try to 
 be cheerful. There can be no greater instance of 
 presumptuous discontent than to wish impatiently 
 for death, and while our lives are continued there 
 must be work for us both to do, or discipline for
 
 202 BEATRICE. 
 
 US both to suffer. If affliction be indeed the 
 cement necessary to unite every Christian virtue 
 together, we must not shrink from whatever shall 
 build up our Christian character into symmetry 
 and order." 
 
 Lady Edith having thus roused herself to meet 
 the mournful emergency of her altered circum- 
 stances, prepared to leave Cairngorum Castle 
 though it seemed literally like tearing herself up 
 by the root to go. For the last time she took 
 leave of all the animate and inanimate objects 
 which had so long been a part of her happy 
 home, and, hand in hand with Beatrice, went 
 slowly through every much-loved room, now 
 to be forsaken, perhaps for ever. Each picture, 
 each ornament, even each article of ordinary 
 furniture was dear to the heart of both, as they 
 thought of the familiar faces and familiar voice 
 once associated with them, but now to be seen or 
 heard there no more. Beatrice plucked for the 
 last time some flowers from the plants which Sir 
 Evan had once delighted to rear, and they seemed 
 like precious gifts from nature in memory of one 
 so beloved. Many a day afterwards the lovely- 
 girl affectionately cherished those memorials, 
 which she carefully planted and tenderly reared. 
 
 Lady Edith gave one last long look behind ere 
 she departed from Sir Evan's favourite sitting- 
 room in the dear old home, where, in all proba-
 
 BEATRICE. 203 
 
 bility, not a door would hereafter creak upon its 
 hinges for years, and one single tear slowly 
 descended like molten lead over her pallid cheek. 
 She was followed by Beatrice in all the convulsive 
 agony of a first sorrow, and by old M^Ronald, 
 silent as the tomb, in his livid stern heart-broken 
 grief, while his tall soldier-like figure seemed 
 already shrunk to half its former dimensions, 
 and the step that had once led on the forlorn 
 hope at Bergen-op-Zoom was now feeble and 
 slow. 
 
 " He tum'd and left the spot. 
 Oh ! do not deem him weak ; 
 For dauntless was the soldier's heart. 
 Though tears were on his cheek." 
 
 When all the other attendants at Cairngorum 
 Castle had been paid off, this faithful old servant 
 applied to Lady Edith with the most fervent 
 entreaty that he might remain in her house. " I 
 cannot live away from those that loved him who 
 is no more," said he in a low tone of mournful 
 respect, and drawing his hard weather-beaten hand 
 roughly across his eyes, drenched with tears; "my 
 master's memory is all in all to me, and if the 
 last drop of my blood could serve those he loved, 
 it should be spilled like water." 
 
 " M^Ronald," said Lady Edith, with deep 
 emotion, " it would be a comfort to me certainly 
 that one who so loved Ms master should spend
 
 204 BEATRICE. 
 
 the decline of an enterprising and honourable life 
 in my home, but it must be a very different home 
 now, and a very different establishment." 
 
 *' Madam, I would do the work of a page in 
 buttons, and take no more than the salary given 
 to a boy of all-work with thankfulness — my pension 
 makes me easy about money — but to leave the 
 family is impossible," replied the old man earnestly ; 
 *' you might give me warning twenty times before 
 I would take it ; keep me, then, and I shall be 
 such a servant, heart and soul, as you could not 
 find in the wide world again." 
 
 Lady Edith looked mournfully at the dejected 
 old warrior, once so powerful, and now apparently 
 crumblinsr into ruin. He seemed to her like a 
 shattered wreck which the crew had abandoned to 
 drift along the dark wave of time alone. She 
 remembered with a sigh how lately Sir Evan had 
 smilingly remarked, that M^ Ronald, if left to his 
 own devices, would be as helpless as the conjuror 
 who could devour any quantity of fire, but never 
 could get bread to eat, and she felt that to give 
 him shelter and to give him work for his few 
 remaining years might alone render to him the 
 dregs of life endurable. 
 
 The old soldier had but one domestic tie in life, 
 and that was to Bessie M'^Ronald, the beautiful 
 daughter of a deceased brother ; therefore he 
 watched with secret gratification the growing
 
 BEATRICE. 205 
 
 attachment between her and Robert Carre, whom 
 he considered the model young farmer of the 
 neighbourhood, and whose straightforward integrity 
 of purpose he could not doubt, nor the permanent 
 happiness of any girl to whom he became attached. 
 In the depths of his grief, old M'^Ronald was 
 affectionately visited by his lovely young niece, 
 and it was an interesting contrast to observe the 
 weather-beaten soldier, hard in appearance as a 
 block of granite, and the bright village-beauty, 
 with health glowing in her rosy cheeks, in her 
 pouting scarlet lips, in her redundant glossy hair, 
 and in her sparkling blue eyes, which looked archly 
 out from the Highland plaid, gracefully thrown 
 over her head and gathered in folds over her 
 gingham gown. She generally carried a bunch of 
 newly-plucked flowers in one hand, and her step 
 as she approached her kind old uncle was invariably 
 buoyant with hope and happiness. 
 
 From the hour when Lady Edith sorrowfully 
 removed to Heatherbrae, and after the long lapse 
 of time during which she once more gathered 
 round her a ring of human affections and sympa- 
 thies, M '^Ronald continued a perfect multum in 
 pavco of usefulness, devoted to her service. He 
 was quite a self-contained establishment in the 
 cottage of Heatherbrae, being footman, gardener, 
 message-boy, carpenter, and above all, the soberest 
 butler who ever drew a cork. Lady Edith was 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 206 BEATRICE. 
 
 not one of those who baptize idleness and call it 
 resignation, but she resolved to do the will of God 
 as well as to support it. Many of Sir Evan's old 
 friends, in after years, when they came to that 
 neighbourhood made a point of visiting Lady Edith, 
 who, with a natural genius for hospitality, made 
 them so cordially welcome, and so singularly 
 comfortable, that sometimes they seemed in danger 
 of forgetting to go away, and thus Beatrice con- 
 tinued, as she had always done, to be domesticated 
 with a circle of intelligent guests and intellectual 
 friends, among whom she was a source of daily 
 increasing admiration and interest ; but many a 
 bright sun rose and set, during which that old 
 Castle, once the most hospitable in the Highlands, 
 remained shut, the park forsaken, the gardens 
 neglected, and those gates closed, whence for 
 many a past year no wayfaring traveller, rich or 
 poor, had been turned away without a welcome ; 
 many a summer's sun brightened the green sod 
 which covered the grave of Sir Evan now, and 
 many a winter's snow settled on and hid the place 
 where he slept. 
 
 Instead of sinking, as she would naturally have 
 done, into a waveless calm of dumb despair, the 
 venerable Lady Edith, for the sake of others, 
 •clung to the shattered wreck of life, that she 
 might still find rest to her own wounded spirit in 
 consoling others. From this time, without calling
 
 BEATRICE. 207 
 
 herself a Sister of Mercj, or dressing in any par- 
 ticular livery, both mere evidences of excitement 
 or of affectation, she was night or day at the 
 service of every sorrowing family in Clanmarina, 
 her voice was the last that sounded words ot 
 sympathy or support in many a dying ear ; and 
 over every recent grave in the village churchyard 
 Lady Edith and Beatrice might drop a tear of 
 recollection for the sufferings they had personally 
 alleviated, themselves consoled by the thought that 
 many a grateful prayer, from many a suffering 
 death-bed, was registered on their behalf in the 
 records of heaven. 
 
 " These hours, and these alone, redeem life's years of ill ! '' 
 
 Beatrice, her beautiful countenance radiant 
 with benevolence, had been taught never to under- 
 value any source of innocent happiness in this 
 world, but highly to estimate each hour she could 
 enjoy of blameless pleasure as a gift of Providence, 
 to be warmly prized, as well as cheerfully used. 
 Lady Edith's creed was one of active energy, and 
 though her own heart seemed now turned to dust, 
 yet, checking the self-inflicted agonies of an unruly 
 memory, she firmly denied herself that luxury of 
 grief which may be found in heart-broken musings 
 over the long-past sunshine of life. Having thus 
 resolutely set her face to meet the keen blast of ad- 
 versity, Lady Edith, instead of merely living, a 
 she would naturally have done, only to wish for 
 I2
 
 208 BEATRICE. 
 
 death, which many less truly heart-broken would 
 
 have done, still valued her existence for the good 
 
 she hoped to do in it, as well as for the brighter 
 
 maturity in character and in experience which she 
 
 hoped to attain, including a total prostration of all 
 
 personal objects in the diligent pursuit of universal 
 
 benevolence. 
 
 " Her \^is}i and hope — some tedious sorrows o'er, 
 To join her long-lost friends — and part no more." 
 
 The mystery attached to the origin of Beatrice 
 caused much romantic speculation among the 
 younger portion of Lady Edith's visitors in the 
 upper classes, and it might have amusingly occupied 
 a month's reading in any circulating library to hear 
 all the various versions confidentially whispered, 
 and implicitly believed in the house, of her origin 
 and history, while some of the more imaginative 
 young ladies almost envied her so romantic a story. 
 To Beatrice herself, the mystery of her origin 
 became a source of more and more painful per- 
 plexity, because in various ways it appeared that 
 she was the object of secret observation to some 
 unknown friends. Books of a Popish tendency 
 continued from time to time to be sent to her 
 anonymously, and from the moment when Lady 
 Edith became her sole guardian, there were con- 
 tinual attempts made on the part of Father Eustace 
 to renew clandestinely the intimacy he had made 
 with her secretly in her childhood.
 
 BEATEICE. 209 
 
 Beatrice felt herself followed and watched often 
 in her walks, and though she never once encountered 
 the priest when with Lady Edith, yet she seemed 
 never to stroll heyond her usual bounds alone 
 without being greeted by the bland smile and in- 
 sinuating voice of Father Eustace, whose assiduous 
 civilities she returned with graceful, but very 
 distant politeness ; yet deep within her young 
 heart grew a continually haunting perplexity as 
 to what could cause her to be of the smallest im- 
 portance to the confessor of Lord Eaglescairn. 
 It was not in nature for a young, clever and imagi- 
 native girl like Beatrice, not to nourish, under 
 such circumstances, a few natural hopes, a few 
 sanguine castles in the air, that she might yet be 
 acknowledged by some affectionate mother or 
 distinguished father ; and every day she felt a 
 more longing desire to have some known as well 
 as unknown relatives. How fondly she would 
 have loved them, was to her a favourite subject of 
 thought, and when her younger visitors talked of 
 parents, brothers, or sisters, evidently considering 
 the enjoyment of their affection as much a matter 
 of course, and as necessary as the air they breathed, 
 Beatrice would, with starting tears in her eyes? 
 think how dear such relative ties would have 
 been to her own heart ; and often she kissed 
 Lady Edith with the more fervent gratitude, to 
 think that all she had ever known of human affec-
 
 210 BEATRICE. 
 
 tion was the free gift of that kind friend, on whom 
 she had no claim. 
 
 For some weeks after Allan's departure, his 
 letters, which were long and numerous, continued 
 incessantly to pour in at Heatherbrae, and many 
 a day did Beatrice, accompanied by Lady Edith, 
 hasten to meet the postman, that they might 
 accelerate the chief event and greatest pleasure 
 of their day, in reading all he said by their cheerful 
 fireside together, and together admire the spirit 
 of ardent enjoyment with which his ready pen 
 recorded all his entertaining adventures so enter- 
 tainingly described. 
 
 Lady Edith's two young proteges had agreed to 
 tell her all their inmost thoughts, considering that 
 it would be unworthy of their unbounded gratitude 
 and affection not to trust their best living friend, 
 by confiding to her that they had once for all ex- 
 changed with each other the precious gift of an 
 entire and unchangeable friendship, though not 
 yet to be considered more, much as Allan 
 wished it to be an inviolable engagement. Lady 
 Edith was deeply touched by the entire unreserved 
 confidence of those she so deeply loved, and could 
 not wonder at Allan's devoted attachment, while 
 she felt how conscientious as well as how generous 
 had been the conduct of Beatrice in obliging 
 Allan to remain free from any engagement, and 
 perfectly unpledged.
 
 BEA.TRICE. 211 
 
 The news at length reached Heatherbrae, in a 
 few lines written at Allan's request by the soi- 
 disant Mr. Talbot, now acknowledged as his 
 uncle Mr. Ambrose, that Sir Robert, never having 
 recovered from a coup cle soleil which struck him 
 in India, had very suddenly expired, and Allan 
 was now therefore unexpectedly plunged in a sea 
 of business, as well as into a new cause of most 
 heartfelt sorrow. It seemed to Lady Edith from 
 this moment, as if the death of his father had 
 affected the spirits of Allan to a degree scarcely 
 accountable, considering how little they had ever 
 met. His letters from henceforth became every 
 day more rare as well as more melancholy, and 
 even his handwriting, bold and beautiful as it had 
 once been, grew careless, hurried, and almost 
 illegible. In the last that reached Heatherbrae 
 he complained of being ill, and after that, 
 months passed away, but not a line appeared. 
 Every night Lady Edith and Beatrice promised 
 each other one in the morning, but every morning 
 brought only disappointment, for the postman 
 seemed to have forgotten his way to the house. 
 
 The soiTowful suspense and anxiety of Beatrice 
 became gradually visible in her aspect. The 
 bright smile on her lip became dimmed, the bloom 
 retreated from her cheek, her step lost some of its 
 buoyant elasticity, and her fine rich voice took a 
 sadder tone. But her long suspense was greatly
 
 212 BEATRICE. 
 
 relieved by the entire sympathy of Lady Edith, 
 who well knew all her feelings and right-minded 
 affections ; therefore they spoke without reserve, 
 discussing every vicissitude of thought that occurred 
 to either on the subject. The ideas of both recoiled 
 from any suspicion that prosperity and independ- 
 ence could so change Allan as to make him heart- 
 lessly forget old feelings and old friends. No ! 
 his very last letter had been more than ever full 
 of affection, but so mournfully, so almost despond- 
 ingly expressed, that they w^ondered and grieved 
 anew every time they read it, deploring over an 
 extreme of sorrow that in a religiously constituted 
 mind like Allan's seemed to them both, perfectly 
 inexplicable, for it appeared to be a sorrow without 
 hope. Beatrice, in reading it over for the hun- 
 dredth time, felt as if the tide of her own happiness 
 had indeed ebbed for ever, she knew not why, and 
 that her bark was unaccountably stranded. Allan 
 must be ill, she thought, or his letters had mis- 
 carried ; but he could not be unfaithful to his old 
 friendship and his first love; Allan's heart could 
 not be fickle or unworthy. She and Lady Edith 
 knew him better. They knew him thoroughly, 
 and trusted him entirely. Yet why was he silent ? 
 Bright tears started into the young girl's eyes, and 
 trickled down her cheeks like dew-drops on a rose, 
 but not a doubt of Allan's truthfulness and sin- 
 cerity darkened her thoughts. " I cannot guess
 
 BEATRICE. 213 
 
 how Allan is situated," said Beatrice to Lady- 
 Edith ; " but we know how he feels. Oh, he 
 cannot already have forsaken us ! " 
 
 When Lady Edith looked at that lovely face, 
 she felt that it was impossible. The smile of 
 Beatrice, her voice, her expression, her grace of 
 manner, were never to be eclipsed in the memory 
 of any one who had once beheld her ; but why did 
 Sir Allan not write ? It was inconceivable. She 
 had heard or letters being intercepted ; could his 
 be so? The conjecture was too romantic and too 
 absurd, she thought, for an old woman's brain to 
 conceive ; and yet Mr. Talbot was his companion, 
 or rather " Father Ambrose" — a Jesuit ; and what 
 limits are there to the manoeuvres which are allow- 
 able, or even laudable, to compass the ends of a 
 Jesuit, when the end sanctifies any means ? 
 
 I3
 
 214 BEATRICE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ** Oqg who meriteth esteem, need never lack a friend." 
 
 Proverbial Philosophy. 
 
 Those who are unhappy at home seldom render 
 themselves respected abroad ; therefore Lord and 
 Lady Eaglescairn were liked neither by their 
 neighbom's at Clanmarina nor by each other. A 
 life of twenty years' wrangling had not improved 
 the temper of either ; and none but those who 
 have lived in the house with near connexions 
 disliking each other can conceive the mutual 
 wretchedness they inflicted. Lady Eaglescairn 
 now and then talked pompously of " cultivating 
 her mind ;" but, as her husband politely remarked, 
 she had no mind to cultivate ; and most of her 
 time was spent while reclining in her arm-chair, 
 engaged in what she called meditating, and in 
 what her husband called " mooning." The intel- 
 lect of Lady Eaglescairn was indeed, as he said, 
 " a dial that went very slowly, and seemed desti- 
 tute of sunshine ;" but she had one species of 
 quickness, in imagining affronts, which was very 
 inconvenient to those who never intended them ; 
 and little did Lady Edith Tremorne imagine how
 
 BEATKICE. 215 
 
 often she had been forgiven for fanciful offences 
 with a fanciful pardon. Lady Eagiescairn lived 
 in the belief that she was herself seraphically 
 amiable ; and one way in which she kept up this 
 self-delusion was by going over in her own mind 
 all the injuries she might have inflicted upon 
 people, had she chosen — how she might have pre- 
 vented this person from visiting Lady Edith, or 
 given another a false impression against her — but 
 since she did not, she was therefore to be admired 
 as the best of human beings, though Lord Eagles- 
 cairn privately expressed his opinion that she had no 
 more feeling nor sensibility than her work-box. 
 
 His lordship was himself one of those innumer- 
 able men who no more thought of dying in real 
 earnest than of becoming a negro, but who fre- 
 quently talked as if he were at the point of death, 
 and who exacted for twenty years as incessant 
 sympathy and attention as if he had been actually 
 stretched on his death-bed. Every window must 
 be kept open or shut according as he fancied best 
 for his own fanciful state of health ; he must have 
 his own particular dinner, and his own particular 
 hours, and nothing disagreeable must ever be 
 mentioned in his presence, as that made him 
 worse, and caused his sending for a doctor, who 
 found whatever symptoms he chose to dictate. It 
 would have been a bold physician who dared to 
 tell the noble lord that he was well, when he chose
 
 2iG BEATRICE. 
 
 to be ill, or that he was better, when he chose to 
 be worse. 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn was a man who could not bear 
 to be alone. Not merely did he avoid being alone 
 for an hour, but even for a minute ; therefore he 
 tolerated his wife's tediousness rather than his 
 own gloom. His only object in lite, apparently, 
 was to escape from himself, especially of late 
 years, when he seemed evidently to have some 
 secret care incessantly preying on his mind and 
 spirits. No man ever disliked his own society so 
 much as Lord Eaglescairn ; and as constantly as 
 his shadow followed him in the sunshine did 
 Father Eustace appear in his wake wherever they 
 went, watching over him and actually herding him 
 with unwinking watchfulness. Early every morn- 
 ing Lord Eaglescairn was walking rapidly on his 
 beautiful terraces, and the priest accompanied him 
 there, in evidently close and earnest conference. 
 He came home to breakfast, talking to his confessor 
 in low, confidential accents generally, and all day 
 his voice might be heard afterwards in conversation 
 with any of his guests who were nearest, — some- 
 times, if no one else could be got, with Lady 
 Eaglescairn, or even with his servants, rather than 
 with nobody. Lord Eaglescairn was always the 
 last to retire from the drawing-room at night, 
 after which his valet read him to sleep ; and so 
 constantly did he contrive to keep hold of some
 
 BEATRICE. 217 
 
 companion — to take anybody by the button — that 
 even his own valet could scarcely remember the 
 time, any day of his life, when he had remained 
 three minutes voluntarily in solitude. No one 
 could quietly escape out of the drawing-room 
 without Lord Eaglescairn making an attempt 
 to detain him ; no one returned without his 
 expressing surprise how long they had remained 
 absent ; and no one went to bed at night without 
 his almost angrily wondering how very early he 
 retired. Yet Lord Eaglescairn was by no means 
 an easy-to-talk-with companion. It was generally 
 known among all Lord Eaglescairn's intimate as- 
 sociates, that he hated to hear the same subjects 
 often referred to, particularly when of a melan- 
 choly nature ; and as he was always running away 
 from death, by avoiding all conversation about it, 
 and taking the most anxious care of his health, it 
 was very soon understood that he considered the 
 melancholy catastrophe at Cairngorum Castle to 
 be worn completely threadbare. Still there were 
 continual little traits about Lady Edith transpiring 
 in the village and neighbourhood, which showed 
 the beautiful outline of a character almost per- 
 fected by suffering ; and to these, when discussed 
 by Lady Eaglescairn and her circle one morning 
 at breakfast, Lord Eaglescairn listened with angry 
 as well as with wearied impatience. 
 
 " I am sure," he exclaimed peevishly, about the
 
 218 BEATRICE. 
 
 third time that her name had been alluded to, 
 thrusting back his plate with the remains of muf- 
 fins and egg-shells, and vehemently stirring his 
 second cup of chocolate, '* nothing is ever men- 
 tioned in this house now but Lady Edith Tremorne. 
 I hear of her in every room I enter. It is really 
 torturing to talk of the same person continually. 
 One might fancy there was not another woman in 
 existence. I wish either she or I were out of 
 the world ; and indeed, if those windows are to be 
 left open in this easterly wind, my time in this 
 life cannot be long." 
 
 " So you often say on other occasions," replied 
 Lady Eaglescairn, yawning. '^Yoii are like the 
 creaking door, always complaining. You are 
 always threatening to die ! Do, pray, name your 
 day, and keep to it : there is nothing so trying to 
 me as suspense ! " 
 
 " Lady Edith seems to do good of every sort to 
 every person," said Lady Stratharden, the Protest- 
 ant sister-in-law of Lady Eaglescairn, courageously 
 resolved to assert her privilege of saying what she 
 pleased. *' She and I were at school together 
 once, and she was our model girl. One would 
 fancy her heart must be too large for her income 
 now, she is so extensively charitable." 
 
 " Well," replied Lady Eaglescairn, who was a 
 great sceptic as to the goodness of people's motives, 
 **she has her reward. How the people at Clan-
 
 BEATRICE. 219 
 
 marina do reverence her ! I would die to-morrow 
 to feel assured that such tears shall be shed over 
 my^ave as over poor Sir Evan's, and that I should 
 be as much missed." 
 
 *' Your parrot will miss you sadly," observed 
 Lord Eaglescairn, with contemptuous bitterness 
 " and the old poodle would be inconsolable." 
 
 " Yes," replied Lady Eaglescairn, thoughtfully 
 " But I scarcely possess a friend who would value 
 my parrot and poodle the more for their having 
 belonged to me ! " 
 
 *' Money," said Lady Stratharden, " can buy 
 everything but friendship ; and so many interesting 
 traits of your neighbours at Heatherbrae are re- 
 ported to me, that I have often lately felt a wish 
 to renew my girlish intimacy with that best of 
 human beings, and to re -cultivate Lady Edith's 
 acquaintance. We were formerly inseparable 
 together. I am resolved to claim our old 
 friendship again, for 1 am sure that Lady Edith 
 would learn anything sooner than she could learn 
 to forget an old friend." 
 
 " She never seemed anxious to be cultivated by 
 us, and formerly evaded all our advances," replied 
 Lady Eaglescairn, haughtily, *' If people surround 
 themselves with icebergs, I am not a Sir John 
 Franklin that would attempt to force the barrier." 
 
 '* That beautiful anonymous foundling interests 
 me beyond measure," added Lady Stratharden,
 
 220 BEATRICE. 
 
 more eagerly than her listless nature often prompted 
 her to speak. *' I never saw any girl whose ap- 
 pearance is more perfectly engaging; and I am 
 told she understands every subject, from Watts 
 on the Mind, to Vestris on the Toe. Who can 
 she be ? I shall never rest till we find out !" 
 
 " Do not waste your time in trying to see 
 further into a mill-stone than the nature of the 
 mill-stone will admit," replied Lord Eaglescairn, 
 sternly, and the colour rushed into his face as he 
 spoke. *' The girl is evidently nobody, or she 
 would have been claimed long ago^ I always hate 
 people that I have known by sight a long time 
 without becoming acquainted with them ; and I 
 particularly detest that unknown protegee of Lady 
 Edith's, who seems always in my way. I hate 
 them both." 
 
 " Well ! you have often tried in vain to become 
 acquainted with them, and disappointed people 
 should use angry words when it is any relief 
 to them," answered Lady Eaglescairn, satirically. 
 " If our son were at home, I really! should hate 
 the sight of her, on account of the danger to him ; 
 but as he is safe in Rome, do tell me. Lady 
 Stratharden, how could I get acquainted with 
 Lady Edith and hex protegee .?" 
 
 *' Nothing easier," replied Lord Eaglescairn, 
 yawningly turning his damp newspaper ; but at 
 the same time it w^as obvious that the allusion to
 
 BEATRICE. 221 
 
 Beatrice had excited in him some peculiar interest. 
 '*' Desire the ponies to upset you to-morrow before 
 that porch with the mantle of roses over it ; or 
 write to Heatherbrae that you are an old woman 
 with typhus fever, in want of a night's lodging." 
 
 *' The cottage at present is closed up, as if in a 
 state of blockade," observed Father Eustace, in a 
 tone of unusual interest. " But that young girl's 
 parents having belonged certainly to our church, 
 she has been most unfairly shut out from my influ- 
 ence. We must endeavour to remedy this. It is 
 sad to see so promising a young person in such 
 hands ! it is lamentable ! " 
 
 Lord Eaglescairn looked earnestly for several 
 moments at Father Eustace, and making a sign for 
 him to follow, by a silent glance towards the door, 
 thouglitfully left the room, and was afterwards 
 closeted with his confessor for some hours. The 
 result of a very long and agitated conference with 
 Father Eustace was, that he wrote a letter desiring 
 his son, Lord lona, with all convenient despatch, 
 to return home for the shooting-season to Eao^les- 
 cairn Castle, as he had some business of consequence 
 to discuss with him. 
 
 The subjects which occupied Lady Eaglescairn's 
 thoughts, if the trash that flowed through her mind 
 could be called thoughts at all, were usually as 
 miscellaneous and unconnected as the articles in a 
 Review, where the present state of dress, religion.
 
 222 BEATRICE. 
 
 or politics, is followed by an essay on the Zoolus, 
 or a treatise on poultry ; but as time passed on, 
 LadyStratharden's thoughts strayed more and more 
 frequently towards Heatherbrae and its unknown 
 inmates, for there was some little spark of feeling 
 in her beneath a vast deal of rubbish. 
 
 There exists in every mind, however frivolous, 
 a beau ideal of imaginary perfection, a silent 
 phantom within the heart to tell mortals when 
 satiated with nonsense what they should be, and 
 Lady Stratharden, tired sometimes of her own use- 
 less butterfly life, while the only duties she was 
 attached to were the duties of the toilette, had 
 never quite stifled this instinct of nature and con- 
 science, which sometimes made her think Lady 
 Edith's life of intellectual excellence worth being 
 emulous of. 
 
 Lady Eaglescairn, while praying in a language 
 she did not understand, and vainly seeking peace 
 in a religion of images, pictures, music, and per- 
 fumes, sometimes casually meditated, while sitting 
 at work over a gorgeous altar-cloth, which she had 
 been for years embroidering with gold crosses on 
 crimson velvet, whether all the external work of 
 ceaseless genuflections, bowings, and crossings, could 
 be an equivalent for that pure and simple devotion 
 of the heart to God, wdiich shone in the whole 
 conduct and character of Lady Edith. Many a 
 trait of her extraordinary usefulness became acci-
 
 BEATRICE. 223 
 
 dentally reported to Lady Eaglescaim's circle of 
 guests, and no argument is so calculated to gain 
 the devoted adherents of superstition from their 
 empty dreams as an exhibition of some one exem- 
 plary Christian, living visibly and intelligibly for 
 that life which is beyond life. 
 
 Lady Eaglescaim's tame, mechanical repetition 
 of insignificant habits and trifling pursuits became 
 increasingly wearisome to her, and by degrees her 
 mere worsted-work mind might be found meditating 
 much more upon the simple unobtrusive excellence 
 of Lady Edith and her young 'protegee^ than even 
 upon the blood of St. Januarius, the handkerchief of 
 St. Veronica, and any other magical legends with 
 which Father Eustace endeavoured to occupy her 
 thoughts. Lady Strathar den, in the meanwhile,found 
 her way in person to call at Heatherbrae, and who 
 that ever saw Lady Edith would not have admired, as 
 Lady Stratharden irresistibly did, the dignified sor- 
 row with which that active and devoted Christian 
 gathered up all her remaining strength, to finish, 
 with crippled resources and broken spirits, those 
 many useful objects which had so long prospered 
 under Sir Evan's care. 
 
 The little that Lady Edith now possessed was so 
 judiciously as well as so kindly distributed, for the 
 encouragement of cheerful, comfortable activity, 
 that the humble well-taught Christians, seeing their 
 benefactress still doing her utmost, and almost
 
 224 BEATRICE. 
 
 beyond it, on their behalf, felt grateful for all she 
 would have done, as well as for what she could 
 accomplish; while the sceptre of her influence over 
 the village and clansmen at Clanmarina, was that 
 of unbounded attachment and respect. 
 
 To Lady Edith's congenial nature, the simply 
 expressed affection of the virtuous poor was inex- 
 pressibly soothing. She had a friendly word or 
 a ready observation for all those she passed, while 
 every clansman touched his bonnet, and the boys 
 pulled their forelocks to testify their respect. The 
 good wives hurried from their spinning if Lady 
 Edith came in sight, or left their tea un tasted, to 
 stand at the door and drop a rustic curtsey to the 
 friend of all who needed one ; and the village girls, 
 who stole like frightened deer past the magnifi- 
 cent equipage of Lady Eaglescairn, never omitted 
 their shy smiling welcome to " The leddy of 
 Heatherbrae." 
 
 " Oh ! would'st thou know the pious life she spent, 
 How many from her hands received content ; 
 The village nigh shall gratify thy ears, 
 And tell thee, some with words, but most with tears." 
 
 The villagers brought their earliest flowers and 
 rarest vegetables as offerings to their benefactress, 
 who would frequently find specimens of their 
 knitting and spinning on her work-table, or fresh 
 eggs and newly-churned butter on her breakfast- 
 tray, sent as testimonies of attachment by those
 
 BEATRICE. 225 
 
 simple-hearted villagers whom she had attended in 
 sickness or comforted in sorrow. Nothing but acts 
 of charity seemed to remove the leaden weight 
 which lay heavily on Lady Edith's sorrow-stricken 
 heart, and while she daily meditated deeply on the 
 solemn march of time, carrying every suffering 
 Christian to an eternal rest of perfect enjoyment, 
 she welcomed each successive trial as the cement 
 necessary to build up her character for an ever- 
 lasting destiny.
 
 226 BEATRICE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Oh ! qu'il arrive d'etranges choses dans les voyages ; 
 et qu'il serait bien plus sage de rester chez soi ! " 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 Lady Edith felt a daily increasing anxiety re- 
 specting Allan's long silence, preceded as it had 
 been by a tone of depression in his letters, a 
 hopelessness even in the consolations of religion 
 itself, so utterly desponding, that she felt it pain- 
 fully unaccountable. Anything her kind heart 
 could have borne, inured as she was to suffering, 
 that concerned only herself, but there was a nervous 
 agitation which excited her deepest sympathy in 
 the manner of Beatrice now, which showed how 
 deeply she felt the long suspense, as week after 
 week passed heavily on and no letter from Sir 
 Allan appeared. " The heart of a young man," 
 thought Lady Edith, anxiously, "is a strange 
 enigma, and though I believed that Allan would 
 be a model of constancy in his attachments, yet 
 who ever is constant to his first love ? — how soon he 
 learns to consider it a mere boyish freak, perhaps 
 to be laughed at and forgotten ! There are many 
 girls abroad so artful and alluring that I must
 
 BEATRICE. 227 
 
 not wonder if Allan has been fickle, and the love 
 Beatrice felt for him was always that of a sister ; 
 therefore, much as she feels this change in Allan, 
 I see that her sorrow is but such as my own, a 
 sorrow that saddens the heart, but does not 
 break it." 
 
 A character so energetic as Lady Edith's was 
 not likely to sit with folded hands and downcast 
 eyes, wondering what would happen next, but she 
 at length enclosed a letter to Lady Stratharden, 
 now become one of her intimate friends, at Rome, 
 requesting her to see Sir Allan personally, and to 
 ascertain, if possible, the cause of his long silence, 
 as well as of his evidently increasing melancholy. 
 The answer she received filled Lady Edith with 
 surprise and perplexity, by informing her that it 
 had become quite out of the question for any one 
 to see Sir Allan, as he was in very broken health, 
 and exclusively attended by his mother, and by 
 Mr. and Miss Ambrose, his uncle and aunt, who 
 devoted themselves without ceasing to his society. 
 Lady Stratharden added, that her own endeavours 
 to see Sir Allan being so persevering. Lady 
 M^ Alpine had favoured her, the day after her 
 departure from Rome, with a few Hues, which she 
 now enclosed, as being most characteristic of her 
 mind, frivolous, superficial, and ignorant to ex- 
 treme, with a perfect conviction that she was fully 
 competent to master every subject of science,
 
 228 BEATRICE. 
 
 politics, or religion, after having read one or two 
 articles in one or two magazines on the subject. 
 
 The letter was a strange farrago, which Lady 
 Edith read over several times with wonder and 
 regret, added to much uneasiness. It was as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Dear Lady Stratharden, — During my son's 
 precarious state of health and spirits, produced 
 by successive family bereavements, his uncle has 
 deemed it best to suppress all visits, such as yours, 
 or letters such as Lady Edith's, that might awaken 
 old remembrances and painful associations. Till 
 the hour of his majority, it is the intention of my 
 brother and myself, being his guardians, to keep 
 Allan at Rome, where, in conformity with his 
 father's injunction, that my brother and I shall 
 forfeit the guardianship unless he be educated a 
 Protestant, Mr. Ambrose has secured him a 
 strictly Protestant tutor, recommended by our 
 excellent and most liberally-minded friend, Cardinal 
 Albertini, to whom Lord Eaglescairn kindly intro- 
 duced me. Our good Cardinal is the best of men, 
 and so clever ! Allan does not yet confide in his 
 new tutor so entirely as I could wish, thus rendering 
 it essential that my brother should break off all 
 those old influences which might prevent our 
 gaining an increased influence over the scarcely 
 yet formed opinions of Sir Allan. It will give you
 
 BEATRICE. 229 
 
 pleasure to hear that I have lately opened Cardinal 
 Albertini's eyes to some of the worst errors in 
 Romanism, for he encourages me quite freely to 
 argue every point with him. It is astonishing how 
 very open to conviction I find our good worthy 
 Cardinal, but he says I have a singular genius for 
 logic ! I have very nearly brought him round on 
 the subject of confession, though, truth to say, 
 he has more to advance in its favour than you 
 can have any conception of. I shall spare no 
 trouble to convert him, and he has promised to 
 read Mrs. Trollope's Jesuit carefully over, on 
 condition that I study, with my son, some very- 
 candid and safe books he is to send me. Allan 
 does not like our disputations, but I make a point 
 of his being present, that the Cardinal may have 
 this opportunity to say many things very impres- 
 sive to a young intellect. If I see the slightest 
 tendency to Romanizing either in my own mind 
 or Allan's, depend on my at once extinguishing it. 
 I perfectly understand my ground, and our excel- 
 lent Cardinal says he has met with no other 
 Protestant who never goes beyond her depth, and 
 who has so clearly discriminated between where 
 liberality is cherished, or bigotry is to be avoided. 
 A list is kept at the College here of those English 
 persons who are thought likely to apostatize ; and 
 an officious friend informed me lately that my 
 name and Sir Allan's have been recently added. 
 VOL. I. K
 
 230 BEATRICE. 
 
 Fancy how absurd ! The Cardinal laughed heartily 
 when I told him, and said he would erase them 
 himself, as there could not be a greater mistake. 
 Allan yesterday repeated these lines in reference 
 to our good Cardinal, on whom he is inclined 
 sometimes to be satirical. 
 
 ' He could pick pins up, yet possess the vigour 
 For trj^ming well the jacket of a tiger." 
 
 '' I met the Pope yesterday, dressed as usual in 
 an entire suit of white, taking a constitutional 
 walk surrounded by officers in full uniform. His 
 carriage, which followed, was drawn by six white 
 horses. As Allan remarked, it was an imposing 
 sight ; imposing in every sense, for it was a beauti- 
 fully got up little theatrical procession to enchant 
 the common people. Cardinal Albertini's whole 
 idea of religion consists in processions, and the 
 Pope is so entirely governed by Cardinal Lambrus- 
 chini and by Cardinal Antonelli, that as Allan 
 says, ' these cardinals kiss the Pope's foot, but 
 they tie his hands.' 
 
 " His Holiness is only infallible under the 
 direction of the Jesuit cardinals, so completely is he 
 subordinate to their authority. During service in 
 the churches nere, no one seems at all impressed 
 except the new converts, who make themselves 
 very absurd about the images and processions; 
 I am told even the Pope himself is astonished to
 
 BEATRICE. 281 
 
 see his own religion acted out in a way it never 
 was before. The bodily attitudes of the Italian 
 people are devout enough, but they are whispering 
 and giggling during most of these pompous repre- 
 sentations, not being more intellectually impressed 
 than at a theatre. Still when one sees 600 wax 
 candles blazing on an altar, thousands kneeling 
 before the Pope, and the attendants fanning his 
 Holiness with peacock's feathers, it really is most 
 affecting. Cardinal Albertini has kindly given 
 me a tooth of St. Apollonia, blessed by the 
 Pope, which is said to cure the tooth-ache more 
 infallibly than Holloway's Elixir; but he was 
 rather annoyed at my comparing the popish 
 austerities to those we saw formerly among the 
 Hindoos. These Romanists have not yet fully 
 reached the same extreme, by stiffening their 
 arms upright, or burying themselves alive, but 
 their prostrations before the Pope are exactl}' like 
 those of the Brahmins I saw in India before their 
 idols. I shall let you know from time to time 
 what progress I make in converting my agreeable 
 visitor, the dear Cardinal ; and here he comes in 
 his scarlet hat, stockings, and gloves ! " 
 
 A month afterwards, Lady M*" Alpine and her 
 sister Miss Ambrose were publicly received intc 
 the Romish communion, as trophies of Car- 
 dinal Albertini's extraordinary skill in making 
 k2
 
 232 BEATRICE. 
 
 converts, and Lady Edith, when she perused 
 the letter from Lady Stratharden, which con- 
 veyed this intelligence, sat for above an hour 
 contemplating it in deep thought and very deep 
 perplexity, before she communicated the in- 
 telligence to Beatrice. The}^ saw now why a 
 portcullis had been dropped by Mr. Ambrose 
 between his nephew and themselves, but they no 
 more doubted the continuance of his affection 
 than if they had parted but yesterday. Lady 
 Edith loved Allan as a mother ; much more, 
 probably, than his own mother vvas capable of 
 loving anything, and the whole danger of his 
 position became obvious to her at once. Even 
 had her intercourse with Sir Allan not been 
 forbidden by those who had a legal right to do so, 
 what could she, a feeble woman, achieve to rescue 
 him from the cunning and falsehood of the whole 
 popish church, backed by the authority of his 
 mother, his uncle, and the " strictly Protestant '* 
 tutor recommended by Cardinal Albertini. 
 
 Lady Edith and Beatrice could only unite their 
 prayers, mingled with many bitter tears, for Allan, 
 imploring on his behalf that the grief of losing so 
 many near relatives, the enfeebled state of his 
 health, and the estrangement from all Protestant 
 society, might not too much increase the influence 
 of his popish relatives ; that he might remember 
 the teaching and example of his uncle, as well as
 
 BEATRICE. 233 
 
 the faith of his earlier years, and that his happi- 
 ness here and hereafter might not be shipwrecked 
 by the machinations of those who would confiscate 
 to their idolatrous church his whole future fortune, 
 his personal liberty, and his privilege to act or 
 think according to the dictates of a divinely given 
 conscience. To see Allan with his bright intellect 
 and vigorous enterprise a puppet in the hands of 
 others who had manoeuvred themselves by false 
 pretexts into his confidence, would have been the 
 deepest of all trials to Lady Edith, and she felt 
 now as if looking on at a game in which her young 
 and confiding favourite was playing for the stake 
 of his whole existence and his whole fortune, in 
 company with those who were perfectly unscrupu- 
 lous by what tricks they entrapped him. It is no 
 easy task to make the best of a bad business, and 
 Beatrice found the task a hard one now ; for her 
 heart was not of adamant, and she suffered 
 deeply. 
 
 Prayer had always a bracing effect on the mind 
 of Lady Edith, and no earthly perplexities could 
 annihilate that pious hopefulness which yet shone 
 through the long dark vista of futurity, gilding 
 the prospect with an ahnost certain assurance that 
 Allan would eventually be rescued from the fiery 
 trial to which the carefully instilled principles of 
 his boyhood must now be inevitably exposed. 
 Even while seeing Sir Allan surrounded by such
 
 234 BEATRICE. 
 
 unforeseen dangers to his creed, Lady Edith dared 
 not of course send him one line of solemn admo- 
 nition, therefore she determined not with sickening 
 anxiety to brood over so agitating a suspense, — she 
 resolved bravely to struggle against despondency 
 respecting Allan's prospects, and throwing off 
 every natural tendency to despair of his escape 
 from the snares around his mind, Lady Edith 
 resolutely annihilated every inferior view of the 
 subject, while her faith now stood forth singly and 
 alone, holding up the promise of Holy Scripture, 
 that they who trust in God shall never be con- 
 founded. 
 
 Lady Edith had imbued her young companion 
 Beatrice, who had genius and talent of no common 
 order, with the same high and holy views as her 
 own respecting the importance of human life, and 
 the influence of each human being to elevate and 
 benefit the rest ; therefore, the only thing that 
 would have made either of them miserable to 
 do was, to do nothing. While thus religion 
 cast its grave and tranquillizing consolation over 
 this deep trial to both, the brightest gleam of 
 comfort arose from a sanguine hope which Lady 
 Edith expressed, that her own insignificant rem- 
 nant of life might be passed with Beatrice, in 
 the pursuit of active benevolence and of every 
 rational improvement. 
 
 In educating her young protegee, Lady Edith
 
 BEATRICE. 235^ 
 
 liad always carefully inculcated on Beatrice the 
 conviction, that happiness does not consist in what 
 surrounds, but in what is within us ; not in what 
 we have, but in what we are ; seeing that the 
 object for which every mortal exists is, to form 
 his character and to prove his principles, as well 
 as to produce them in action by energy, self- 
 resti-aint, and the willing encouragement of every 
 ennobling sentiment. Beatrice had now learned 
 to find ceaseless enjoyment wifh Lady Edith in 
 the acquirement of knowledge, in the writings of 
 genius, in everything beautiful, good, and true, 
 as well as in the vigorous exertion of all her 
 faculties. She had been taught, in short, to make 
 the most of her intellect, to know nothing by 
 halves, to enjoy intelligent conversation, to delight 
 in all her duties ; and though often harassed with 
 perplexity as to her own origin, and by various 
 circumstances which from time to time renewed 
 her hopes of its being at last revealed to her, this 
 only the more rapidly matured her mind, while 
 she felt cheerfully prepared to meet and to make 
 the best of whatever emergencies or changes such 
 a disclosure might hereafter involve, by acting 
 always under the advice of her best of friends. 
 Lady Edith. It had become more and more 
 evident, ever since Sir Evan's death, that some 
 one person at least took a keen interest in 
 Beatrice, as several letters were addressed to her
 
 336 BEATRICE. 
 
 subsequently, in the same well-known handwriting, 
 which had formerly addressed some popish tracts 
 to her during Sir Evan's lifetime. The same inva- 
 riable subject filled all these communications, — 
 an exhortation to conceal them from Lady Edith, 
 which Beatrice never did, and an earnest entreaty 
 that she should prepare to join the Romish Church, 
 which would be the means of restoring a long-lost 
 child to her unknown relatives, and of placing 
 Beatrice in a position of dignity and affluence 
 beyond her utmost hopes. 
 
 ■ A circumstance occurred to Beatrice soon after 
 the reception of the last letter she received from 
 this anonymous correspondent, which showed that 
 the newly awakened activity of these incognito 
 friends was not always to remain limited to 
 written intercourse, but that means could be found, 
 by the manoeuvres of a popish emissary, to elude 
 the vigilance of those who watch most carefully 
 over the young, and even to deceive the young 
 themselves as to the character and objects of those 
 with whom they associate. But the incidents which 
 brought out this discovery remain to be told 
 hereafter. 
 
 Beatrice was busily engaged one evening at her 
 favourite amusement, working among the flower- 
 beds, and attended by her superb Italian grey- 
 hound, " Schako" by name. She was dressed in a 
 broad-brimmed hat of the wide-awake species,
 
 EEATPJCE. 237 
 
 decorated with a wreath of her own favourite white 
 jessamine mingled with ivy leaves, and her pretty 
 picturesque velvet jacket hung gracefully over a 
 skirt of Rob-Roy tartan. The whole effect was 
 pleasing as one of Gainsborough's beautiful 
 pictures, and while Beatrice continued hoeing the 
 box-wood borders, tying up the carnations, and 
 humming some familiar airs, she looked the very 
 image of rural happiness. No stranger by any 
 accident ever passed that way ; but a new gardener 
 whom she did not know by sight had been engaged 
 for Lady Edith at Inverness, and seeilig a young 
 man whom she supposed of course to be Lady 
 Edith's new factotum leaning on the gate, as if 
 about to enter, she made him a good-humoured 
 signal to bring the watering-pot, and to afford her 
 his assistance in completing her work, which ac- 
 cordingly he did with the utmost alacrity. Beatrice 
 thought this a good introduction of the stranger to 
 his labours ; but never was there so awkward a 
 gardener in the world, though he appeared un- 
 doubtedly, in spite of hob-nailed shoes, and the 
 strangest of deformed hats, a very graceful young 
 man. At length a dark suspicion suddenly crossed 
 the mind of Beatrice, that she must have made 
 some unaccountable mistake. Her assistant evi- 
 dently could not distinguish between vegetables, 
 fruit, and flowers ; but seemed equally ready to dig 
 them all up by the roots promiscuously. He was 
 k3
 
 238 BEATRICE. 
 
 politeness itself to Beatrice, but there was an air 
 of aristocracy about him not to be mistaken, so 
 that Beatrice felt at a loss what to say, whether to 
 ask him at once who he was, or how to dismiss 
 him without giving offence to one who had entered 
 by her own heedless in\dtation. She at length 
 laughingly whispered her perplexity to Lady Edith, 
 who had wandered out, leaning on her gold-headed 
 cane to enjoy her lovely flowers and quiet garden. 
 Lady Edith gave a hurried glance at the stranger, 
 and, convinced that, in spite of his wearing a very 
 weather-beaten shooting dress, and acting the part 
 that Beatrice had assigned him of being the new 
 gardener, he was not only a gentleman, but one of 
 no ordinary calibre, she said to him in a tone of 
 quiet humour, " We shall attend to the flower-beds 
 ourselves for some days now that they are all in 
 bloom ; but if you want work I have a large 
 potato field about a mile off", which you may be so 
 obliging as to go and dig up for me." 
 
 The young volunteer, with a sly laugh to Beatrice 
 at being so evidently detected, bowed himself off", 
 threw a somerset over the gate, and with a step full 
 of gay hilarity disappeared among the neighbour- 
 ing copse- wood. Tlience the sound of several shots 
 during the day, and the noise of dogs and men, 
 indicated his presence till tlie twilight closed in 
 darkness, and several sportsmen, after a successful 
 day's enterprise, dispersed to their homes. Then
 
 BEATRICE. 239 
 
 the young stranger accidentally passed a cottage 
 door, from which Lady Edith and Beatrice were 
 emerging, and paused for a moment respectfully, 
 till having smilingly glanced at the large paj-ish- 
 baskets carried by the two ladies, he with a matter- 
 of-course air escorted them home, and at taking 
 leave, after having amused the two ladies by the 
 oddity and originality of liis remarks, he departed 
 jestingly repeating these lines : — 
 
 '' Most sad vagaries ! 
 First, she has given away, to starving rascals, 
 The stores of grain she might have sold, good lack ! 
 Has sunk vast sums in fever-hospitals 
 For rogues whom famine sicken' d — almshouses 
 For sluts whose husbands died— schools for their brats." 
 
 Saints' Tragedy.
 
 240 BEATEICE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Behind the clouds is the sun still shining, 
 Thy fate is the common fate of all : 
 Into each life some rain must fall, 
 Some days must be dark and dreary." — Longfellow, 
 
 Nothing could be more pitiable than the mental 
 starvation of the half-naked children under Lord 
 Eaglescairn's popish domination. They were in- 
 structed in nothing but to pay their utmost 
 reverence and also their .uttermost farthing to 
 Father Eustace, who gave them in return his own 
 absolution and a Latin benediction. Mr. Clinton, 
 on the contrary, instead of taking a penny from the 
 starving man, gave his whole time and his little 
 income freely among those whom he could benefit, 
 and Lady Edith, finding the old schoolmistress 
 superannuated, advertised for one competent to 
 instruct the already well-instructed children of her 
 own school, where the girls, besides more intel- 
 lectual acquirements, learned all the intricacies of 
 samplers, laundress-work, darning and button- 
 holing. 
 
 Scarcely had the vacancy at Clanmarina school 
 been announced, before a candidate, apparently 
 made for the situation of its mistress, seemed
 
 BEATRICE. 241 
 
 to have dropped from the moon to offer her 
 services, and arrived one morning in person at 
 Heatherbrae to present her testimonials, when 
 Lady Edith and Beatrice were sitting at work 
 together. 
 
 " My Lady I " said M^Ronald, entering with 
 rather a portentous look, " a person is below, 
 — a sort of half-and-half gentlewoman, not exactly 
 a lady, nor not a common body either, who wants 
 to take the school ! " 
 
 Lady Edith, secretly amused at M'^Ronald's 
 evidentperplexity, and guessing that it was a school- 
 mistress with whose system and testimonials Mr. 
 Clinton had been perfectly satisfied, and whom he 
 had sent to her as being admirably competent to 
 the vacant situation, desired him to show the 
 stranger up, and in a few minutes the old butler, 
 giving one more very scrutinising examination to 
 the object of his curiosity, ushered into the room 
 a particularly quiet reserved-looking woman, in a 
 black bonnet of un definable shape, and a black serge 
 dress made up to the throat. Mrs. Lorraine, as 
 she caused herself to be announced, had a sort of 
 poor-relation look, and might be about thirty, with 
 great remains of beauty, but her countenance 
 appeared singularly destitute of expression. Lady 
 Edith, who could in general draw ideas out of a 
 stone statue, found herself completely baffled by the 
 peculiar reserve of Mrs. Lorraine's manner. She
 
 242 BEATRICE. 
 
 was slow in speech, very sententious, and very firm 
 in manner ; precise and orderly in all she said ; but 
 her eyes were fixed so immoveably on the ground 
 that she never once looked up. Her voice when 
 she spoke was in one unalterable tone, measured, 
 slow, and monotonous, as if she were reading her 
 answers from some invisible book, and the chief 
 characteristic of her whole appearance as well as of 
 her manner was that of impenetrable calmness. 
 *' If any one had suddenly dropped down dead at 
 her feet," observed Beatrice afterwards, " Mrs. 
 Lorraine would look as if it were the very thing 
 she expected ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine unhesitatingly undertook what- 
 ever duties Lady Edith proposed, made no diffi- 
 culties, started no objections, discovered no surprise, 
 but seemed made up of complaisance, and most 
 composedly resolute to take the situation, good or 
 bad, with or without a salary. So acquiescingly 
 did Mrs. Lorraine receive every proposition of 
 Lady Edith's, that Beatrice afterwards laughingly 
 said, "the new schoolmistress seems a person 
 equally ready to become a Duchess, or to sweep a 
 crossing !" 
 
 " That would be quite in the Jesuit school!" 
 replied Lady Edith somewhat anxiously, " A 
 prince to-day and a beggar or a tutor to-morrow, 
 their lives are a mere masquerade, in wliich, when 
 desired, they act what they are not> and say what
 
 BEATRICE. 243 
 
 they do not think. Somehow I cannot like that 
 complaisant woman, and yet I cannot make any 
 rational objection to her !" 
 
 " We could not exactly dismiss poor Mrs. Lor- 
 raine for being too well pleased with everything, 
 and too ready to undertake anything ; " observed 
 Beatrice, slily smiling over her drawing. '' But 
 positively, if you had asked her to teach Hindos- 
 tanee, or to wear a mask, she would have looked 
 neither surprised nor unwilHng.^^ 
 
 '' She is just a living image of acquiescence," 
 added Lady Edith musingly. "Her only object is, 
 as the poet recommends, * to scatter smiles on this 
 uneasy earth ! ' " 
 
 Lady Edith, being incapable of caprice, and 
 apt to believe every human being as honest- 
 hearted as herself, now sat down to examine 
 an enormous packet of testimonials which she 
 had received, from the unexpected candidate 
 for office, rather unwillingly. As she carefully 
 read them all, a presentiment of evil forced 
 itself gradually on her mind, and every panegyric 
 on Mrs. Lorraine appeared most unaccountably 
 to increase her irresistible antipathy to the object 
 of so much praise ; yet she was determined not 
 to be unjust, and as so very superior a person, 
 reduced to poverty, seemed anxious for the situa- 
 tion, it would be wrong not at least to try her 
 merits. Never were there such characters ! The
 
 244 BEATEICE. 
 
 Honourable Mrs. Seymour said that she envied 
 any one who could secure the services of such a 
 perfect treasure; Lady Sophia Crumpton had 
 been most desirous to engage Mrs. Lorraine for 
 her own children, as she had never known her 
 equal, and the Dowager Lady de Vere wished she 
 could be young again herself to benefit by the 
 instructions of the most admirable of teachers. 
 
 Lady Edith felt that there was no escape ! Who 
 could deny that she wanted an experienced teacher 
 for her school, and that one had immediately 
 appeared, irresistibly suited to the situation ; but 
 what earthly advantage could Mrs. Lorraine pro- 
 pose to herself by accepting an office the reverse 
 of a sinecure, being labour with scarcely any salary ? 
 It seemed almost undeniably a mystery! 
 
 When Mrs. Lorraine returned to receive her 
 final answer. Lady Edith was anew perplexed at 
 observing an air of distinction about her, even in 
 the shabbiest mourning, quite inconsistent with 
 the apparent humility of her position, and even a 
 degree of stateliness broke out through the cloud 
 of her reserve that was totally unaccountable, 
 while she looked as if there were a great deal in 
 her, though nothing came out. Mrs. Lorraine's 
 delicate hands, her small, beautifully-proportioned 
 feet, her aristocratic profile, the short upper hp, 
 compressed with a look of singular determination, 
 the jet-black evebrows, and the eyes veiled beneath
 
 BEATKICE. 245 
 
 the very longest and darkest of eye-lashes, all 
 gave a dignity to her aspect, strangely contrasted 
 with the humility of her conversation and the 
 poverty of her appearance. 
 
 Once only, for a moment, Mrs. Lorraine's eyes 
 flashed like lightning round the room, and became 
 fixed on the lovely countenance of Beatrice, bent over 
 her painting ; but the fire was instantly quenched, 
 before it could be observed, and she kept them 
 demurely on the ground, while more and more 
 puzzling Lady Edith by the ingenious round- 
 aboutness of her answers, and by the extreme 
 earnestness of her desire to be engaged. 
 
 '' How did you hear," asked Lady Edith, in a 
 tone of gentle politeness, " that my school is 
 vacant ?" 
 
 ** I have friends everywhere," answered Mrs. 
 Lorraine, evasively. " My determination to be 
 useful will enable me, I trust, to do much real 
 good in Clanmarina. I have no earthly object, 
 but to fulfil my duty." 
 
 " Pray," inquired Lady Edith, vainly con- 
 jecturing in what higher position she might have 
 been, as the wife perhaps of an officer or a clergy- 
 man, " are you a widow ? " 
 
 *' I have no worldly tie remaining," replied 
 Mrs. Lorraine, in a quiet tone of sad civility and 
 of passive resignation, while she seemed to wipe 
 away a tear with her handkerchief; '' I am like a
 
 246 BEATRICE. 
 
 Stray weed, tossed on the ocean of life, uncaring, 
 and uncared for! Try me in your school, Madam, 
 and you shall find me neither deficient in zeal, 
 nor, allow me to add, from long experience, in 
 abihty." 
 
 Beatrice clandestinely fixed her all -observant 
 eyes on Mrs. Lorraine, who delivered herself of a 
 deep sigh. " If her character is as upright as 
 her person, she ought to do ! " thought the young 
 girl, greatly amused at the interview, in which the 
 frozen reserve of the stranger's manner, and the 
 colourless countenance utterly destitute of expres- 
 sion, formed a striking contrast to the cordial 
 frankness of Lady Edith, whose soul was in her 
 eyes, while she always spoke her whole mind as if 
 living in the Palace of Truth. The striking dif- 
 ference in the words, looks, and dispositions of 
 those two individuals seemed now printed on the 
 senses of Beatrice, and remained engraven on her 
 memory for ever. 
 
 " I know," continued Mrs. Lorraine, " that it 
 is an arduous situation, but the labour is no 
 obstacle, nor is the salary any inducement. I want 
 employment, and have no other want." 
 
 " Then you shall certainly find it here," an- 
 swered Lady Edith, endeavouring to hope that 
 this was a kindred spirit to her ow^i, who desired 
 solely to find a good use for her span of life while 
 it lasted ; yet in spite of herself, Lady Edith's
 
 BEATRICE. 247 
 
 truthful nature rebelled against the soft beguiling 
 voice, and still softer smile of Mrs. Lorraine, 
 when with a look of dreary satisfaction, she 
 accepted the engagement ; saying, in her usual 
 calm, imperturbable voice, " You do not yet like 
 me, Madam, and are unwilling yet to trust me ; but 
 no matter I We agree in the one object of life, 
 to do good. I would even serve those who hate 
 me, for my wdsh is in passing along the thorough- 
 fare of human existence to benefit my fellow- 
 creatares generally, those even who hate me as 
 well as those who do not. Let us only hope that 
 I may find strength for all that it is now my inten- 
 tion to do here ! " 
 
 '* But," replied Lady Edith, almost startled at 
 the earnestness of Mrs. Lorraine's manner, " the 
 sphere of your duties is a very small one." 
 
 *' I shall soon enlarge it," answered Mrs. Lor- 
 raine, with a dark smile, and in a tone of almost 
 haughty self-complacency; ** people who are truly 
 zealous can open extended horizons for themselves." 
 
 Lady Edith secretly debated with herself 
 whether she ought to take alarm at this threat of 
 such excessive activity, which seemed in so limited 
 a neighbourhood to be as out of place as a storm 
 in a tea-cup, but prudence conquered, and she 
 made no commentary on a speech which she did 
 not, however, very much like, or ever forget. 
 
 It was a cheering sight when the Clanmarina
 
 248 BEATRICE. 
 
 children, boys and girls, were assembled under the 
 old elm-tree in Lady Edith's garden to have tea in 
 honour of their new schoolmistress. When the 
 joyous clatter of cups and the noisy hubbub of 
 voices had ceased, the pupils stood in two rows 
 like living walls, and sung a hymn, which sounded 
 from their tiny but well-taught voices like an 
 ^olian harp, while their bright, intelligent faces 
 looked full of juvenile happiness and intellectual 
 vivacity. Mrs. Lorraine placed herself before them 
 with downcast eyes beside Lady Edith, who could 
 not but utter her feelings in a tone of benevolent 
 enthusiasm, when she said, " The noblest felicity 
 permitted to human beings on earth, is when we 
 are enabled to lead, not the mere bodies, but the 
 souls of our fellow-creatures from evil to good. 
 No occupation is so worthy of an immortal nature, 
 as to care for the immortal destiny of others." 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine shot a quick sharp glance at the 
 intelligent countenance of Lady Edith, which 
 seemed radiant with benignity and goodness, then, 
 as if fearful of being observed, she dropped her 
 eyes and answered in a slow, measured accent, 
 expressive of neither approbation nor disapproba- 
 tion, pleasure or pain, " To both of us, duty and 
 pleasure seem one : Mine shall now be agreeably 
 united in the care of these children." 
 
 " You will find them all perfect miracles of 
 sampler-work, reading, and writing," said Beatrice,
 
 BEATRICE. 249 
 
 in a tone of good-humoured, careless vivacity, 
 while Mrs. Lorraine stole an earnest, penetrating 
 glance at her smiling face. " And," added she, 
 changing to a tone of reverential seriousness : 
 " they are most perfectly instructed by Mr. Clinton 
 in their Bibles, as well as devotedly attached to that 
 best of all studies, the Word of God." A dark 
 cloud overshadowed the countenance of Mrs. Lor- 
 raine at these w^ords, and her lip became strongly 
 compressed ; she made no audible reply, but 
 dropped her veil over her face ; while now, by 
 Lady Edith's desire, the pupils repeated verse by 
 verse several chapters of the Gospels and Epistles. 
 
 Among those who chiefly excelled in memory 
 was the pretty Bessie M^Ronald, now nearly grown 
 up, and no one could look on such a face as hers 
 without wishing her well ; but sometimes the 
 vividness of her fancy, and the extreme excitability 
 of her imagination, had been a source of anxious 
 thought to Lady Edith : she therefore pointed the 
 interesting young girl out to Mrs. Lorraine, as one 
 who both deserved and required peculiar circum- 
 spection by training her to curb a too poetical and 
 imaginative tendency, and to keep her in the safe 
 line of Scriptural teaching. 
 
 " I like to contend with difliculties," replied 
 Mrs. Lorraine, in a tone of all-comprehensive 
 benevolence, and fixing her eyes on Bessie, whose 
 high precipitous marble forehead was indicative
 
 250 BEATRICE. 
 
 of no ordinary mind, while her complexion, all 
 lilies and roses, and her features, all dimples and 
 smiles, were lovely to look on ; " that girl shall 
 be my peculiar care." 
 
 " A more pleasing one could scarcely be found," 
 added Beatrice warmly, " every door in Clanmarina 
 opens of itself to that very sweet face. On her way 
 home from school, Bessie drops into every cottage 
 where there is sickness, and reads any invalid 
 a chapter of the Bible, helps to wash the children, 
 to bake their cakes, or to cook the family broth ; 
 and poor as Bessie is, she has her pensioners, for 
 whom she saves all her hard-earned halfpence. 
 There is a sort of ragged elegance about her, 
 extremely picturesque, and Robert Carre has lent 
 Bessie a donkey on which she rides about now as 
 happy as a little Amazon queen ! " 
 
 " Or rather, the Queen of the Fairies," observed 
 Lady Edith, while Mrs. Lorraine listened with a 
 strange sinister smile of sarcastic incredulity that 
 puzzled Beatrice, who had never seen the smile of 
 a schoolmistress before, and wondered what it 
 meant now. ** Bessie is so feminine, so gentle, 
 but with an imagination so poetical, that she is 
 just suited for what I think she will hereafter be, 
 the wife of my favourite protege, the cleverest and 
 best young man in Clanmarina, Robert Carre — 
 
 " Her modest looks his cottage might adorn, 
 Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn."
 
 BEATRICE. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Oh ! what a tangled web we weave, 
 When first we venture to deceive." — Scott. 
 
 Beatrice had a delight scarcely to be equalled, 
 in pleasant intellectual conversation ; and from the 
 time of Mrs. Lorraine being settled at Clanmarina, 
 the new schoolmistress most ingeniously contrived 
 opportunities and incidents which brought her 
 into private confidential intercourse with Lady 
 Edith's young protegee^ to the apparently accidental 
 exclusion of Lady Edith herself. Long intimacy 
 alone could have accounted for the excessive par- 
 tiality professed for the society of Miss Farinelli, 
 by one who seemed to shun all others with very 
 chilling indifference. Mrs. Lorraine was evidently 
 of the select species, and Beatrice herself felt not 
 only flattered, but very much astonished at the 
 almost enthusiastic attachment testified towards 
 her by ** that frozen iceberg," as Mrs. Clinton 
 called Mrs. Lorraine, after several days spent in a 
 fruitless endeavour to have some congenial inter- 
 course. 
 
 " We need not build an ice-house now," said
 
 252 BEATRICE. 
 
 Lady Edith, smiling; ** Gunter himself could not 
 desire a better freezing apparatus than Mrs. Lor- 
 raine !" 
 
 After having, with insidious perseverance, twined 
 herself apparently into the confidence of Beatrice, 
 Mrs. Lorraine at length began to exchange the 
 general expressions of attachment with which she 
 had at first met her young favourite, for hints, 
 becoming daily more distinct, that there existed 
 certain secrets of importance, with which she was 
 entrusted, relating to the most charming young 
 girl on earth, but only to be revealed on certain 
 conditions. She added that wealth, friends, rela- 
 tives, and a very high position, were withheld 
 from one who was most deserving, and most justly 
 entitled to inherit them ; but owing to a difference 
 of faith between the parties, justice seemed never 
 likely to be done. Mrs. Lorraine, who always 
 spoke in a whisper, as if every bit of furniture 
 had ears, alluded next, with well-expressed ab- 
 horrence, to those who could withhold any just 
 claim from another, and with affectionate sympathy 
 mentioned the poor defrauded orphan, in whom 
 Beatrice could notbutfeel convinced that she recog- 
 nised herself. More and more frequent grew the 
 occasions on which Mrs.Lorraine wandered casually 
 into the private sitting-room allotted to Beatrice, 
 ** The Den," as it was called, or met her, if she 
 ever took a solitary walk, or called when Lady
 
 BEATRICE. 253 
 
 Edith had gone out ; or was, in short, constantly 
 now a shadow on her path, and always mysterious. 
 
 Lady Edith herself might have almost forgotten 
 that Mrs. Lorraine existed, so very seldom did 
 they meet, and so very little encouragement did 
 her visits at the school receive ; till at length 
 finding her presence as useful and more acceptable 
 elsewhere, Lady Edith for some weeks devoted 
 herself entirely to the sick, and relinquished the 
 school to Mrs. Lorraine's energetic guidance. 
 
 The new schoolmistress had that happy art of 
 governing others which seemed like no art at all. 
 She at once took the reins at Clanmarina with so 
 masterly a hand, that all around felt, they scarcely 
 knew why, as if she were absolutely entitled to 
 their most implicit obedience. Still that unac- 
 countable magnetic influence, which often seems 
 to cause an instinctive liking or antipathy to indi- 
 viduals, made Lady Edith more and more conscious 
 that it was impossible for her ever to like or trust 
 Mrs. Lorraine, though that did not prevent her 
 kind heart from treating the schoolmistress with 
 every considerate attention. Lady Edith felt it 
 quite an animating perplexity to discover why this 
 apparently whimsical prejudice in her own mind 
 could not be conquered; but meet the school- 
 mistress when or where she might, this feeling of 
 distrust seemed always instinctively to increase, 
 while, in the words of Byron, she asked herself — 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 254 BEATRICE. 
 
 " Is human love the growth of human will ? " 
 
 The diligence of Mrs. Lorraine in her school 
 was so immeasurable that Beatrice one day, with 
 a feeling of respectful compassion, jestingly said 
 to her, " Do you never sleep at all ? or perhaps 
 you close only one eye at a time, Mrs. Lorraine ? 
 I see your candles blazing long after midnight, 
 and you are always first up in the morning, as 
 I often observe you coming back from a stroll 
 towards Eaglescairn, when I am dressing for break- 
 fast. These are almost monastic hours ! " 
 
 *' I am a working-bee, not an idle drone in the 
 hive," said Mrs. Lorraine, turning away, and con- 
 tinuing for some time to gaze out of the window, 
 without saying more, while her young companion 
 wished her thoughts would oftener take the air, 
 and secretly wondered also whether she ever 
 changed her clothes, as the same serge gown and 
 indescribable black bonnet had appeared in the 
 school w^eek after week, without any visible alte- 
 ration, except their looking if possible more 
 shabby. Beatrice felt certain that if the kind- 
 hearted and liberal Lady Edith observed this 
 poverty of dress, she would devise some unobtru- 
 sive way to remedy it ; yet, though poor in other 
 respects, Mrs. Lorraine was most astonishingly 
 rich in books. Many publications, new and old, 
 she recommended to Beatrice for perusal, and 
 always happened " fortunately, and by the merest
 
 BEATRICE. 255 
 
 chance," to possess a copy which she oiFered to 
 lend her, but invariably added, in her usual laconic 
 monotonous accent, *' May I beg you not to show 
 this, as I never lend my books. It is a rule I would 
 break through for no one but yourself; and at the 
 same time 1 should dislike to refuse the Clintons 
 or Lady Edith, if they asked me. You are quite 
 safe in reading Milner's * End of Controversy,' and 
 St. Bonaventure's ' Life of our Lord.' Pray finish 
 these, however, as soon as you can, and let me 
 have them back, that I may send you Ignatius 
 Loyola, and St. Francis de Sales. There are those 
 deeply interested in you. Miss Farinelli, who 
 would rejoice to hear of our having met, conversed, 
 and read together ! " 
 
 '* Indeed! tell me! oh, tell me more!" said 
 Beatrice earnestly. 
 
 *' Pray," asked Mrs. Lorraine, with slow deli- 
 berate emphasis, " Why do you suppose that I am 
 here, Miss Farinelli, labouring in this laborious 
 vocation ? " 
 
 " I am so matter-of-fact as to suppose it is 
 because you wished to fulfil its duties," replied 
 Beatrice, surveying Mrs. Lorraine with wondering 
 perplexity, and speaking in a low anxious tone ; 
 *' Excuse me if I cannot imagine any other." 
 
 " Life, without hopes and fears, would be a 
 mere nonentity ; but you seem not to look forward 
 beyond dinner-time," continued the schoolmistress, 
 l2
 
 ^ob BEATRICE. 
 
 as she narrowly watched the speaking countenance 
 of Beatrice. " I could add greatly to the interest 
 of yours. If you set a trap well to catch a secret, 
 perhaps it may be successful ; hut you must offer 
 the right bait." 
 
 '•' What can I offer ? My only earthly posses- 
 sion is hope !" exclaimed Beatrice, becoming more 
 and more agitated, while the dry measured tone of 
 Mrs. Lorraine seemed as if adapted for her peculiar 
 tantalization. " You might surely reveal, at least, 
 on what conditions I am ever to know that in which 
 ray whole earthly happiness seems at stake.'' 
 
 " There is a conspiracy to withhold from you a 
 rightful succession ; and as the newspapers some- 
 times say, you may yet hear something to your 
 advantage," answered Mrs. Lorraine, fixing on 
 Beatrice her dark flashing eye, and giving a strange 
 suppressed laugh. '* But there are conditions an- 
 nexed to the disclosure with which you may not 
 yet be willing to comply." 
 
 " Any conditions consistent with my duty to 
 God, and with my grateful affection to Lady^ Edith, 
 shall be most thankfully accepted," exclaimed the 
 pale and astonished Beatrice, in a tone of almost 
 breathless eagerness, while Mrs. Lorraine with her 
 cat-like expression, slily watched the sparkling 
 animation of Beatrice's countenance and the flitting 
 colour on her cheek, when the trembling girl 
 added, " As you hope for happiness here and here-
 
 BEATRICE. 257 
 
 after, oh, tell me all! or at least tell me some- 
 thing ! — anything ! " 
 
 " Have you not been too long content here 
 already, in dependence and obscurity?" said Mrs. 
 Lorraine, assuming a tone of compassionate mys- 
 tery; " I can release you from both." 
 
 '*How? — when? — speak on!" said Beatrice, 
 almost inaudible from extreme agitation ; while 
 Mrs. Lorraine paused with a look of subdued 
 triumph, and then coldly added, *' Not now — not 
 yet. After having been accustomed for years to 
 implicit submission here, you could not at once, 
 to please an unknown relative, of whose desires 
 I am aw^are, throw off all adherence to Lady Edith 
 and her Protestant faith?" 
 
 "Impossible! her creed is mine! all the love 
 and earthly duty I can ever owe to a generous 
 benefactress are hers. Oh ! never could I listen 
 to a suggestion injurious to Lady Edith. Let me 
 
 rather die in ignorance of what I would give 
 
 more than life to hear." 
 
 " If that be your contemptible resolution, mine 
 is equally taken," rephed Mrs.- Lorraine, becom- 
 ing irritated beyond all control, and her eyes 
 assuming an expression of fierceness that might 
 have suited Rachel. " Remain obscure, then, since 
 you are content, yet pray consider that necessity 
 has no law but its own, and conform yourself to 
 my will. Is it not rather mortifying that when-
 
 258 BEATRICE. 
 
 ever any one asks, as is often done, — * Who can 
 Miss Farinelli be?' the invariable answer is, — 
 ^ Nobody.' " 
 
 "Mrs. Lorraine," answered Beatrice, with mourn- 
 ful earnestness, while her honest open young 
 face was a singular contrast to the sly underhand 
 look of her watchful companion ; " There are 
 different sorts of content ! Mine would be des- 
 picable, as you call it, could I remain willingly 
 ignorant of those mysteries relating to myself, 
 of which 3'ou seem informed. If by any means 
 but the sacrifice of conscience and gratitude I 
 can hear your secret, oh ! make me grateful for 
 ever by telling me all." 
 
 "Not now — not yet! the subject will not 
 bear any more talking about," replied Mrs. Lor- 
 raine coldly; " if you do not care for a dis- 
 tinguished name, still say nothing of what has 
 passed to Lady Edith ; should I ever find that 
 you have done so, that will at once prostrate all 
 hope of your ever hearing a romantic history con- 
 nected with yourself such as it would not be easy 
 to match. The padlock shall remain in your own 
 hand till you choose to make use of the right 
 key; but let me remind you that the secret of 
 your birth might greatly influence Sir Allan. 
 The course of true love becomes a course of false 
 love sometimes." 
 
 Beatrice trembled with agitation, and wept with
 
 BEATRICE. 259 
 
 disappointment that the deiiouement which had 
 seemed so near was now perhaps for ever post- 
 poned, and she kept her eyes immoveably fixed 
 oh Mrs. Lorraine's countenance, which remained 
 still and inexpressive as stone. " Well ! " thought 
 Beatrice, with all the honest warmth of a young, 
 ardent and conscientious spirit, "if the wire of 
 secretiveness is to remain on Mrs. Lorraine for 
 ever, that cannot be helped. No mortal is entirely 
 happy ; therefore why should I expect all to go 
 smoothly with me ? Of all miseries in life the 
 sorrow of sorrows would be to act against my own 
 heart and conscience, to be morally dissatisfied 
 with myself, as I should certainly be if I sacrificed 
 any right feeling to obtain Mrs. Lorraine's extra- 
 ordinary secret. What can it be, and shall I ever 
 know it ? When with her, I seem for ever casting 
 my line in the stream and bringing up nothing." 
 
 Beatrice turned the subject in her mind over 
 and over and over again to her heart's content, or 
 rather to her fancy's content. In her restless 
 anxious mind, if intense thought could have 
 brought wrinkles to so fair a young forehead, hers 
 might have been disfigured by them; but not 
 another gleam of light reached her from Mrs. 
 Lorraine, who calmly avoided all intercourse for 
 several weeks, and looked like a person extremely 
 ill-treated, while Beatrice felt that a frigid spell 
 was thrown over her of perplexity and suspense.
 
 260 EEATfilCE. 
 
 The young village beauty, Bessie M^^Ronald, 
 was afflicted at home, with a step-mother of that 
 old school now extinct, harsh, cold, and tyrannical, 
 who gave her much work, little food, and still less 
 kindness ; therefore to her it was cm agreeable re- 
 laxation when, after milking her father's two cows 
 and arranging the dairy, she could escape from her 
 own stern fire-side to visit her kind old uncle at 
 Heatherbrae, or to teach at the school. There 
 she soon grew into marvellous favour with ?\Irs. 
 Lorraine, who took an evident delight in fostering 
 her visionary and imaginative temperament, by 
 lending her books of fanciful theology, only too 
 suitable for such a purpose. From this time the 
 lonely girl might often be observed on a rustic 
 seat under the old yew-tree in Mrs. Lorraine's 
 garden, spending every holiday-moment in a state 
 of entranced delight over the numerous books 
 mysteriously confided to her for private perusal ; 
 and always after the volume was closed Mrs. Lor- 
 raine contrived to spare a few minutes, during 
 which to discuss the contents with all her usual 
 ability, and embellishing her conversation with 
 picturesque legends and bold perversions of Bible 
 truth. 
 
 Bessie M^Ronald's bright eyes glittered with 
 the enthusiasm she had formerly felt over the 
 fairy tales of her infancy, when she read or heard 
 of the radiantly bright guardian angels who visibly
 
 BEATRICE. 261 
 
 followed the footsteps of each baptized child, and 
 of the bright cross which shone upon its forehead. 
 It was charming once more, as in the Arabian 
 Nights formerly, to read of a dark river flowing 
 onwards through groves of speaking trees, of 
 oracular birds and of jewelled flowers, varied by 
 narratives of dreams, apparitions, and supernatural 
 visions, till the young girFs nerves were strung to 
 the very highest pitch of superstitious excitement 
 and of religious credulity. 
 
 " Is this quite entirely a Protestant book ? " 
 asked Bessie one day rather anxiously, but very 
 much frightened to question Mrs. Lorraine. *' My 
 old uncle has been inquiring very often lately what 
 authors you allow me to read here." 
 
 " Quite right ! only look at the title-page. 
 You see it is published by a Protestant book- 
 seller, written by a clergyman of the Established 
 Church, and dedicated to a bishop. What more 
 could your uncle desire, child ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad, for it is quite beautiful !" 
 exclaimed Bsssie, hastily resuming her borrowed 
 book ; " this is such a pretty story, and very 
 different indeed from any in Lady Edith's library. 
 How delightfully it begins ! — ' Two young girls 
 were bidden to scale a high and dangerous moun- 
 t'lin by a path beset with thorns, and infested by 
 serpents. Two angels, with bright faces and 
 sober eyes, and tall folded wings, stood before 
 l3
 
 262 ISEATEICE. 
 
 them and offered them guidance. The one child 
 was self-willed; he meant to do the task ap- 
 pointed him, but to do it in his own way : so 
 he put away the angel's hand outstretched to 
 lead him, and struggled up the path by himself, 
 wounded by the brambles, stung by the snakes, 
 and constantly losing his way. The wiser child 
 grasped hold of the angel's hand, and as the angel 
 slowly retreated up the path, the child pursued 
 with upturned eyes that never wandered from the 
 benign and radiant countenance of the glittering 
 angel. Thus the wise child could not even see 
 the dangers by which she was surrounded; but 
 planting her foot she knew not where, only ever 
 in advance, the briers as she trod upon them 
 changed into flowers, whose crushed blossoms sent 
 up the sweetest fragrance, and the serpents drew 
 back abashed from the presence of the angel, and 
 glided away among the dark brushwood. And 
 so when the summit was attained the fair girl 
 joyfully thanked her angel-guide, seeing that her 
 garments were whiter and smoother than when 
 first she started on her pilgrimage, and the cross 
 of light was glittering more dazzlingly than ever 
 on her forehead.'" 
 
 ** Beautiful ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine, enthu- 
 siastically ; " oh, how beautiful ! " 
 
 *' Yes ; what a lovely picture might be drawn 
 from that description !" replied Bessie ; ** but,
 
 BEATRICE. 263 
 
 though you will think me stupid to say so, I 
 never should have found out this book to be so 
 entirely Protestant." 
 
 " That shows how little you know on the sub- 
 ject," answered Mrs. Lorraine, in a tone of rather 
 angry contempt ; " but if you have been instructed 
 to any purpose, the reading of a few Catholic 
 authors could do you no earthly harm. Here 
 is, for instance, one which I wish to talk over 
 with you fully next week ; therefore read this 
 volume carefully, but always leave it here when 
 you go home, as I cannot spare the book at 
 present." 
 
 Bessie found that the work so strongly recom- 
 mended to her contained the memoirs of three 
 men who had been canonized by a cardinal in 
 1839, and were held up as examples to all man- 
 kind in the present day. To Bessie's astonished 
 mind it appeared that these three meritorious 
 individuals had never allowed themselves one 
 moment of bodily ease or mental tranquillity, 
 from the miserable hour when they were born 
 till they died. For them the sun shone in vain, 
 as they Kved with their eyes for ever fixed on the 
 ground. To them the gift of speech was useless, 
 as they took a vow of perpetual silence ; sleep 
 and food were enemies to be abhorred and avoided; 
 if they could have breathed only once in an hour 
 they would have tried the experiment ; and by
 
 264 BEATRICE. 
 
 them every tie of earthly affection was contemp- 
 tuously abjured, though that text of Holy Scrip- 
 ture, in favour of human attachments, occurred to 
 the memory of Bessie, along with several others 
 that Mrs. Lorraine would have thought it con- 
 venient to make her forget, — " He that loveth not 
 his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love 
 God whom he hath not seen ?" 
 
 " Bessie !" said a low deep voice, that made the 
 ;5^oung girl not only start, but blush the deepest 
 crimson, as with an almost guilty feeling the book 
 dropped from her hand. *' I thought you were 
 turned into stone, sitting so immoveably there 
 for the last half hour, during which I have been 
 watching you from our garden." 
 
 "Robert!" said Bessie, smiling with delight as 
 young Carre approached her, and looking the very 
 image of Murillo's celebrated flower-girl ; " well, 
 this is a surprise! You may pick up my book 
 if you choose for me, but do not read the name, 
 as Mrs. Lorraine forbade me to let that be seen." 
 
 " Indeed ! and what good reason can she have, 
 Bessie ? Is she afraid I shall put on the spectacles 
 of criticism ? " replied Robert, most honorably 
 averting his eye from the volume as he handed it 
 to her ; " I never think well of anybody who deals 
 in small secrets, and this seems to me the very 
 smallest. Surely Mrs. Lorraine is most iniquitously 
 reserved to eveiybody at Clanmarina but you
 
 BEATEICE. 265 
 
 and Miss Farinelli ! I wish she would open the 
 strong box of her mind to me." 
 
 " Oh ! but you must think well of Mrs. Lor- 
 raine, for she is kinder than kind to me, and takes 
 endless pains to improve me. So different from her 
 poor old hum-drum predecessor, Mrs. Morgan !" 
 
 " I wish she wculd take less pains than she does 
 with you, Bessie. You are very well as you are ; 
 but if ever a witch existed on the earth, that Mrs. 
 Jesuit is one. She passes herself off upon you, 
 like a jockey's horse, for more than she is worth. 
 We never see you now except under this tree with a 
 book. I always used to think you resembled ^ The 
 Dairyman's Daughter' of Legh Richmond, but, 
 Bessie, I know you better than you know yourself, 
 and you are now greatly changed. You have 
 become of late anxious and unhappy, Bessie. I 
 could strangle Mrs. Lorraine for making you so 
 miserable. Do not deny it," continued Robert, 
 with almost vehement interest; "you cannot impose 
 on me. Bessie ! I can detect a shadow of a shade 
 on your spirits, and I tell you, Bessie, that you are 
 at this moment most dissatisfied, and really quite 
 disastrous looking. Now give me a knock-me-down 
 contradiction if you like, but it takes no clairvoy- 
 ance to see that, and to see who makes you so. 
 Remember, Bessie, that every light is not the sun, 
 and be wary ! Mrs. Lorraine would teach you 
 that it is a worldly sinfulness * to wash your dishes
 
 266 BEATRICE. 
 
 or obey your parents ;' but a kind Providence 
 allows us homely duties and earthly affections as 
 the flowers and the fruit of our existence, if they 
 all point upwards to heaven as their end and aim." 
 
 Robert Carre coloured deeply, and gazed with 
 anxiety at his young companion, who turned away, 
 looking the very image of girlish beauty and in* 
 nocence, but she closed her eyes to hide the tears 
 that had gathered there. " I would not have lost 
 old Mrs. Morgan," he added strenuously, " for 
 twenty Mrs. Lorraines." 
 
 These words were not fully uttered when Mrs. 
 Lorraine herself stood before Robert Carre, while 
 Bessie uttered an exclamation of surprise and 
 consternation. The schoolmistress looked calm 
 and smiling as usual ; but smiles are of very dif- 
 ferent expression, and hers was a strange one. 
 She seemed perfectly unconscious of his remark, 
 and could it have been possible, young Carre might 
 have thought she had not overheard him ; but that 
 not being within the power of hope, he could only 
 wonder at her entire command of countenance, 
 when she spoke to him in the usual tone of distant 
 civility, which ever since her arrival at Clanmarina 
 she had assumed to him, and with which she 
 had contrived to exclude Robert Carre and many 
 others from the charge they had hitherto taken 
 of the school. 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine had taua'ht for two months with
 
 BEATRICE. 267 
 
 unflinching energy and perseverance, when Lady 
 Edith one evening, after tea, observed in reply to 
 a remark of Beatrice about the new schoolmistress, 
 '' Really her words are so scarce that the castle 
 guns should be fired every time she utters a 
 syllable. It is unlike me in general, I hope, to 
 say that, knowing no harm of Mrs. Lorraine, I 
 cannot endure her." 
 
 *' It is difficult," answered Beatrice, ^' to like 
 such a totally unKkeable person." 
 
 " She is inestimable certainly in the school, 
 though somehow I wish she had never entered it. 
 In respect to sociability, I find myself rather un- 
 welcome at my own little school, and she is no 
 acquisition in the drawing-room ; but we must 
 throw a rose-coloured tint over her oddities, if 
 possible." 
 
 M^'Ronald, who assumed all the privileges com- 
 mon to old domestics, was a little troubled with 
 that frequent disease of the mind among ser- 
 vants — extreme curiosity, and on such occasions 
 he often contrived, while listening with the most 
 intense attention, a most ingenious succession of 
 trifling acts to do, as an excuse for lingering, 
 while he officiously tidied the room, arranged the 
 books, folded up the newspapers, and drilled the 
 fire-irons. Beatrice, to her own secret diversion, 
 watched the old butler, who looked as misan- 
 thropical as a perfect Timon that day, while con- 
 triving so many unnecessary services ; but Lady
 
 2G8 BEATRICE. 
 
 Edith continued to talk without remarking any of 
 them. 
 
 " How apt we are," she said, reflectively, " to 
 fancy that the real characters of others can by 
 some supernatural instinct be easily read, when 
 they are, in fact, the most inscrutable of mysteries. 
 Who can tell what degree of benevolence, of 
 hatred, or ambition, or thirst for money, or craving 
 for power may be burning in the soul of a self- 
 contained, quiet-looking iceberg like Mrs. Lor- 
 raine ? M'^Ronald, your tables are brushed quite 
 enough now. They are always so bright that I 
 can see myself reflected in them, but to-night I 
 really could almost see the carpet through this 
 mahogany." 
 
 " My lady ! " replied M^Ronald, looking much 
 pleased and yet gravely anxious. " Your ladyship 
 may see through that table or the hardest mill- 
 stone, sooner than you, or any one, can see through 
 Mrs. Lorraine." 
 
 '*How,M<'Ronald! What do you mean? Every- 
 body praises Mrs. Lorraine to me, except you." 
 
 " So much the worse, my lady ! Those who 
 honour your ladyship would say as I do if they 
 knew her. By means of examining Bessie, I long 
 suspected her to be a vile deceiver : she looked 
 like a cheat, and I mistrusted her all along: but," 
 added M'' Ronald, clenching his teeth as he spoke 
 and giving a general glance towards Beatrice, " if 
 there be a knave on the earth, Mrs. Lorraine is one,
 
 BEATRICE. 269 
 
 as we shall all have too much reason soon to know. 
 She is praiser-general to the whole school, and 
 coaxing all the children to obey her, but she has 
 always the look of one afraid to be found out, and 
 is " 
 
 " Compose yourself, M'^Ronald, and tell me all 
 you suspect," replied Lady Edith, in a tone of 
 tremulous anxiety, for she saw that the old man 
 was livid with agitation. " You never liked Mrs. 
 Lorraine, and may be mistaken.^^ 
 
 ** No, my lady I " replied he, with respectful 
 earnestness, but unable to restrain a solemn shake 
 of the head and a serious grimace, " I have not 
 served in Spain and Italy for nothing! Duncan 
 M^Ronald is no raw recruit. Depend upon the truth 
 of what I say, that Mrs. Lorraine is a Jesuit." 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Lady Edith, with 
 piercing intensity of tone and look. " What can 
 make you think so ?" 
 
 " She is a Jesuit, — or at least, what is ten 
 times worse, a Jesuitess," added the old man, as- 
 suming a tone of huge contempt, to conceal very 
 great grief and agitation. *' Murder will out ! 
 From the crown of her head to the sole of her foot 
 Mrs. Lorraine looks like a Jesuit, and is one." 
 
 " What could such a person w^ant here, 
 M'^Ronald? oh no! quite a mistake," replied 
 Lady Edith, trying to disbelieve what the old 
 man said, while he stood sturdily at the door for
 
 270 BEATRICE. 
 
 a moment, and gave a short deprecatory cough 
 before disappearing ; " we have no Jesuits in 
 the Highlands. Our country is not rich enough to 
 tempt them here." 
 
 " They belong only to legends of the dark 
 ages," observed Beatrice to Lady Edith. " A 
 Jesuit is as much out of date in our own country 
 now, as the long exploded witchcraft of remote 
 antiquity. M^'Ronald must be dreaming ! " 
 
 " Or perhaps he is wide awake when others are 
 blind," observed Lady Edith, reflectively. ** My 
 own un suspiciousness may have created a danger. 
 If any one slumbers when a Jesuit is within reach, 
 it should be with one eye open, as I shall do for 
 the future. M^Ronald may have seen better 
 through a fog than myself." 
 
 '^ He has looked as cross as rheumatism could 
 make him, ever since Mrs. Lorraine appeared in 
 this neighbourhood,'"* observed Beatrice, laugh- 
 ingly. *' He ushered her in yesterday with all 
 the dignity of a field-marshal, and there was a 
 solemnity in his shake of the head when accom- 
 plishing his last dignified retreat, that might have 
 done for the statue in Don Juan." 
 
 " He evidently means to counteract our new 
 schoolmistress or perish in the attempt. These 
 Jesuits always wish to ensnare the young, and I 
 would rather see one of Shrapnell's shells explode 
 in this house than receive a Jesuit into it, for his
 
 BEATRICE. 271 
 
 first step always is, to shatter and blow up all 
 family peace," said Lady Edith, with a gesture of 
 impatient disgust. " He would have no scruple 
 in setting a friend's house on fire to warm his own, 
 and in causing as many divisions as possible, that 
 the young may find no peace, mental or domestic, 
 but in joining his own sect." 
 
 " Can it be possible that M'Ronald is right ! " 
 exclaimed Beatrice, who had been diligently count- 
 ing her stitches, but suddenly started as a new 
 light seemed to break upon her. " Let me confess 
 a fault to you, dear aunt Edith ! From Mrs. Lor- 
 raine it is somehow impossible to conceal anything, 
 and the influence she gradually acquires becomes 
 certainly almost irresistible. She has been clan- 
 destinely lending me, of late, some strange books 
 full of pretended miracles and impossible visions, 
 none of wdiich made any impression on my mind, 
 and she extracted a promise from me not to show 
 them, nor to repeat some hints she dropped in 
 respect to my own early history. I now see the 
 guilt and danger of having allowed any conceal- 
 ments from you, and never while I live in this 
 round world shall it happen again." 
 
 Lady Edith silently and aflfectionately embraced 
 her adopted child in her arms, and not a word or 
 a look of reproach escaped from her lips ; but as 
 nothing on earth could exceed her settled horror 
 of Jesuitism, she sat for some time in silent con-
 
 272 BEATRICE. 
 
 sternation at this unexpected discovery, while a 
 chill and a shiver crept over her, as she thought of 
 the escape vt'hich Beatrice had probably made 
 from being seduced into a most dangerous course 
 of pernicious reading. 
 
 Next morning, after the whole school had as- 
 sembled, Lady Edith unexpectedly entered, calm 
 and self-possessed as usual, but with her eye fixed on 
 Mrs. Lorraine, who did not once look up, so that it 
 seemed strange how she could have become aware 
 that any one had arrived, which in a moment she 
 certainly did. Lady Edith stood for an instant 
 kindly contemplating her little school, and all the 
 children in whom she had so long taken a cordial 
 interest, after which she said, assuming a tone of 
 benevolent authority, — " My dear young friends, 
 may your hearts be always as merry as your faces ! 
 If any of you have lately received from any one a 
 gift or a loan of books or tracts, I wish you to bring 
 them all here to me now. 1 shall wait for an hour 
 in this place with Mrs. Lorraine, during which, 
 let each child who ever loved me, or who ever 
 received a kindness from me, hurry home and 
 return here, bringing all the little tell-me-a- 
 story books each of you has read during the last 
 month." 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine, in spite of her usual self-pos- 
 session, started at these words and coloured deeply, 
 but in a moment she took a firm resolution and
 
 BEATRICE. 273 
 
 recovered herself, so that the struggle was no 
 longer apparent, during which Lady Edith added, 
 in a tone of placid command, — " Mrs. Lorraine, you 
 can of course make no objection to my inspecting 
 the books read by these children, for whose welfare 
 I have made myself answerable. Go, my dear young 
 people, as quickly as possible. Mrs. Lorraine and 
 I shall wait here till you return." 
 
 Lady Edith possessed one of those finely con- 
 stituted natures which felt more shame in the 
 exposure of another's guilt than the criminal her- 
 self, therefore she became greatly agitated now ; 
 while Mrs. Lorraine sat with features composed 
 and placid as if they had never known emotion oi 
 any description. Her look had now become so 
 torpid and unchangeable that Lavater himself 
 could not have traced an atom of expression in 
 them, but she quietly rose to leave the room. 
 Lady Edith seeing this, calmly insisted on her 
 remaining, on which Mrs. Lorraine, giving a slight 
 shrug, resumed her place, where she continued 
 sitting, with a highly moral air of deliberate self- 
 confidence that almost staggered Lady Edith's 
 suspicions. 
 
 When the pupils had all re-appeared, a display 
 of literature took place such as Lady Edith, in 
 her wildest dreams could not have apprehended. 
 Each scholar had received a tract to exchange 
 weekly, containing the hfe of some half-crazed
 
 274 BEATRICE. 
 
 monk or nun, who had forsaken every duty of life, 
 to hve, like St. Simon, on the top of a pillar, or, 
 like some other sol-disant saint, at the bottom of 
 a cave, avoiding the light of day, crawling on their 
 hands and knees, standing, beating and cutting 
 themselves, praying till they were reported to have 
 become visibly suspended above the ground, and 
 fasting till, in an excess of spiritual pride, they 
 believed themselves capable of performing miracles. 
 These tracts were all enclosed in the covers which 
 had been provided for the Protestant stories which 
 had hitherto been lent by Mr. Clinton to the 
 children, and had exactly the same external 
 aspect as the " Parent's Assistant " or the " Tales 
 of a Grandfather." 
 
 Lady Edith glanced over these pages, given to 
 the pupils of her own school, with a mixture of 
 wonder and consternation not to be described, 
 while Mrs. Lorraine continued as perfectly calm 
 as if sculptured in marble. Not a muscle in her 
 face was altered, her lip did not quiver, her eye 
 was steadily fixed on one pattern of the carpet, as 
 if counting the stitches, and when she at last spoke 
 her voice did not falter. The schoolmistress 
 had even a look of gloomy satisfaction as she 
 clandestinely watched the agitated countenance of 
 Lady Edith, when glancing rapidly, with true 
 Protestant aversion, over the well-known fables 
 relating to St. Bridget and St. Francis. That the
 
 BEATRICE. 275 
 
 young children contidentially entrusted to Mrs. 
 Lorraine^s charge should have been betra3'ed into 
 reading works so destructive of reason and morals, 
 and so inflammatory to a young imagination, filled 
 their benefactress with amazement and regret. 
 
 " Mrs. Lorraine ! " said Lady Edith, with mourn- 
 ful sternness, fixing her calm bright eye on the 
 schoolmistress, who instantly looked away, which 
 was nothing new, as she scarcely ever met the eye 
 of any one, " my opinion of your conduct on this 
 occasion is too painful to be uttered. You have 
 endeavoured, in the name of all that is holy, excel- 
 lent and truthful, to teach all that is degrading 
 and false. I need not, however, reproach you for 
 this breach of trust, having discovered that you 
 belong to an order which keeps no faith with those 
 who diff'er from themselves." 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine sat immoveably silent, but assum- 
 ing the hopeless smile of one who feels totally 
 misrepresented, yet cares not to justify herself; 
 while Lady Edith, after a short pause in hopes of 
 some reply, continued : " I know that you can be 
 made to feel no compunction, because the law of 
 God and man are in your eyes probably both sub- 
 servient to the commands of your own superior, 
 and that the more your conscience and feelings are 
 outraged by obeying a Jesuit priest, the greater 
 is your merit in his estimation. Protestants to 
 friends must be open, and even to enemies sincere.
 
 276 BEATRICE. 
 
 — they must act the truth as well as speak it, so 
 that T can scarcely cease to trust any one I have 
 once esteemed ; but you have forfeited all claim 
 to my confidence. We part now and for ever." 
 
 After a pause of several minutes, Lady Edith 
 added, in an under tone of relenting kindness* 
 which however did not draw out a syllable of 
 thanks or one momentary gleam of emotion from 
 Mrs. Lorraine, who looked as sternly round as if 
 the lives of the whole school were at her mercy : 
 *' Perhaps this unexpected rupture may cause you 
 pecuniary inconvenience, let me therefore assure 
 you that the expenses shall all be abundantly de- 
 fr;:yed of restoring you to your own distant home." 
 
 '' My home hereafter is in Clanmarina — my 
 mission is here ! " replied Mrs. Lorraine delibe- 
 rately, but with a glance at Lady Edith that should 
 have wdthered her into dust ; then turning round 
 afterwards to the pupils, she addressed them in 
 the gentlest accents, saying, " My dear young 
 friends ! you see me most unjustly blamed and 
 persecuted for lending you a few harmless books 
 and for all the kindness I have endeavoured to 
 show you. Nothing, however, can make me such 
 a fool or such a coward as to desert you. I 
 shall visit at each of your homes to-morrow, and 
 those who choose shall next week find a school 
 far better supplied with books than this, at my 
 own house."
 
 BEATRICE. 277 
 
 " Children !" said Lady Edith, and paused, for 
 her voice failed and tears rolled down her face, 
 though she would not acknowledge them by rais- 
 ing her handkerchief. A momentary silence en- 
 sued, as the image of Sir Evan arose in her 
 thoughts, able as he would have been to cope 
 with this difficulty. It was with an almost super- 
 human effort that she at length regained her utter- 
 ance, and proceeded — " Children ! years before any 
 of you w^ere born, I was the friend of your parents, 
 and long before one of you could speak, I have 
 prayed for you all. Little did I then think, — little 
 did I think till this day, what changed times 
 might come to Clanmarina ! that a stranger should 
 enter our little community to build a bridge for 
 you away from Protestantism, — away from the 
 pure faith of your ancestors, — away from your 
 Bible, — away from that Church for which your 
 fathers bled and died ! Be warned, dear children, 
 by the voice you have long known and obeyed. 
 Beware of a religion addressed only to the senses, 
 a false religion which extinguishes individual con- 
 science, and which makes every saint and priest as 
 well as the Pope a God.'' 
 
 No pupil expressed more unmiti ated abhor- 
 rence, more cordial and deliberate hatred of Mrs. 
 Lorraine's imposture than Bessie M*^Ronald, whose 
 lovely intelligent young countenance lighted up 
 with indignation at the flagrant imposition inflicted 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 278 BEATKICE. 
 
 on her benefactress, and who returned tlie con- 
 demned tracts with the air of a duchess, though 
 there w^as a peculiar grace and ahnost infantine 
 brightness in her manner and expression as she 
 turned away ; but great was her mortification to 
 hear Mrs. Lorraine say in a tone of quiet satire, 
 *' I delight in heroics ! they always give me hopes 
 of a proselyte. Private theatricals are quite to 
 my taste when an actress performs her part so 
 amusingly as you do to-day." So great, never- 
 theless, was the power exercised by Mrs. Lorraine 
 over the judgment and feelings of her pupils, that 
 when with stately composure and a hard remorse- 
 less eye, she extended her hand to each scholar at 
 parting, not one had moral courage enough to 
 refuse the expected civility of a curtsey. Even 
 Bessie, with flashing eyes, burning cheeks, and very 
 obvious hesitation, accepted the unwelcome hand, 
 but turned her beautiful countenance instantly 
 away with a glance of indignant reproach- 
 fulness. 
 
 When Robert Carre heard that Mrs. Lorraine 
 had been actually detected in tampering with the 
 faith of her pupils, the fact so exactly tallied with 
 his own recent suspicions, that on being assured of 
 her dismissal he threw his hat in the air, executed 
 an exaggerated pirouette, snapped his fingers, and 
 exhibited other symptoms of almost lunatic delight, 
 the whole of which were in due course of time
 
 BEATRICE. 279 
 
 reported privately by one of her very few ad- 
 herents to Mrs. Lorraine. 
 
 *' Better far, Bessie," said Robert Carre, v^hile 
 the young girl gave a little nervous laugh, "that you 
 had never learned to read, than that your mind 
 should be perverted by such books as Mrs. Lor- 
 raine's. If Providence did not give you more health 
 of body and mind than her system allows, you 
 would be ill off. We may build the great wall of 
 China round Clanmarina, however, sooner than 
 stop the progress of that Mrs. Jesuit's teaching, 
 unless you have yourself the sense to reject her 
 perversions. Do not deliberately singe your wings, 
 Bessie, by hovering about a deceiver that hangs out 
 false lights." 
 
 *' I thought no harm of these nice, curious, 
 wonderful books,^' replied Bessie, with a deep 
 blush, and fixing her eyes on Robert's dog till she 
 nearly stared Ponto out of countenance. '* Mrs. 
 Lorraine assured me that they were not at all 
 Popish, — indeed, she said that Lady Edith 
 would approve of them all, or I never should have 
 presumed to read a page. Still they are so beauti- 
 ful that I shall never be able to endure mere beef- 
 and-mutton books again ! " 
 
 ** Mrs. Lorraine should be put in the corner for 
 
 telling a lie, if she called this a Protestant book ! 
 
 — the Life of St. Dominick, and a frontispiece 
 
 representing the saint carrying his head under his 
 
 m2
 
 280 BEATEICE. 
 
 arm ! You had much better keep to the story- 
 books, full of Cowgate Scotch, and * My certie !' 
 ' Hoo's aw wi ye ?' dialogues, that so many people 
 have an innocent pleasure in reading now, than 
 study such magical tales as these, even though 
 Mrs. Lorraine warrants them Protestant. "We 
 heretics, Bessie, must speak the truth, though 
 heaven and earth come together ; but a Jesuit 
 conscience is of different materials, or could 
 Mrs. Lorraine ever have said that Lady Edith 
 Tremorne approved of a book such as * The 
 Glories of Mary,' or ' The Garden of the Soul?' 
 The religion they teach is not Christianity, but 
 Mariolatry ! " said Robert Carre indignantly, while 
 there was a tremulous twitching about the mouth 
 of Bessie that betrayed great agitation, though 
 she had no reply but a silent tear. " Human 
 speech is an awful thing, Bessie; beware, therefore, 
 of any one who would teach you to believe a lie. 
 There are falsehoods circulating in the world now, 
 which were spoken by those who lived centuries 
 ago. '] heir souls are perhaps already in hell for 
 speaking them ; but, nevertheless, such lies live 
 in the world, still doing mischief, and still bearing 
 witness against those who first told them." 
 
 Robert Carre's lip quivered with emotion as he 
 spoke, for it had become evident to him, how 
 zealously every inch of ground must be fought 
 now at Clanmarina between truth and falsehood,
 
 BEATRICE. 281 
 
 between the religion of Mary and the religion of 
 Christ ; and he trembled for Bessie as well as for 
 every individual he loved, thinking how their faith 
 would now be tried in the fire. There was ranged 
 against Protestant truth now all the power of 
 falsehood in Mrs. Lorraine, and all the power of 
 overwhelming wealth in the family at Eaglescairn ; 
 therefore his heart sunk at the prospect, but it 
 would have sunk yet more deeply had he known, 
 that though Bessie spoke and felt with boundless 
 horror of Romanism, she had nevertheless imbibed 
 a taste for the reading which leads to Rome, and 
 acquired some of the thoughts and the propen- 
 sities w^hich tend most surely in that direction. 
 
 The Popish faith is so suited to the natural incli- 
 nations of sinful human nature, that in one respect 
 it resembles the small-pox ; those once inoculated 
 with it, though the beginning seem no larger than 
 the prick of a needle, soon have it spread over the 
 whole constitution of their minds ; and Bessie, in 
 the secret cogitations of her own private mind, felt 
 dazzled and charmed with many of the images 
 and pictures of supernatural excellence which Mrs. 
 Lorraine had clandestinely stamped upon her 
 young and often lonely spirit. The privilege of 
 praying for her deceased mother, whom she still 
 remembered with deep affection, was a sentimental 
 indulgence very attractive to her imaginative feel- 
 n gs ; and even in respect to confession she thought
 
 283 BEATRICE. 
 
 how interesting it would be, if she could have an 
 hour's conversation every month with Mr. Clinton, 
 had he been a Popish Priest, entirely about her- 
 self, and to hear what he thought of all the many 
 fancies and feelings that often crowded through 
 her busy mind to interest and perplex her. 
 
 Bessie thought she could not be actually rude 
 to Mrs. Lorraine, when that lady most kindly came 
 to visit her, and brought her some needlew^ork to 
 do, for which she paid most liberally ; and though 
 her calls at the cottage became more and more 
 frequent, always timed when Bessie was sure to be 
 alone, still they were endured with more and more 
 complacency, till they became at last her most 
 indispensable enjoyment. She forgot to eat, drink 
 or sleep, while a glow of pleasure lighted up her 
 beautiful young countenance in listening to highly 
 coloured pictures of saints who, with humble- 
 minded pride, attained to such perfection on 
 earth, that their faces became luminous during 
 their devotions, and of glorious visions appearing 
 to those who, from want of sleep and food, had 
 become in fact delirious. Bessie was unconsciously 
 on the outer circle of that superstitious whirl- 
 pool, from which a rescue is as rare and difficult 
 as from Maelstrom itself. 
 
 " Lo ! the spell now works around thee, 
 And the clankless chain shall hind thee ; 
 O'er thy heart and brain together 
 Shall the word be pass'd — Now wither !" — Manfred.
 
 BEATRICE. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 She was one of those kinds of nuns, an' please 
 your honour, of which your honour knows there are 
 a good many in Flanders, which they let go loose." 
 
 Tristram Shandy. 
 
 Lady Edith might as well have attempted to 
 take the moon out of the water as to remove Mrs. 
 Lorraine from Clanmarina. Before many days, 
 the intruder, who seemed now to have an un- 
 limited command of money, established her opposi- 
 tion school at Clanmarina, upon the most attractive 
 plan, with a tea-party on Saturday to all the pupils. 
 She moreover opened an extremely fascinating 
 little bazaar, in w^hich she completely under-sold 
 the small village shop-of-all-work, where hitherto 
 the humble penny customers had been supplied 
 with tea, sugar, brooms, tape, needles, tracts, snuiF, 
 biscuits, rat-traps, gingerbread elephants, tobacco- 
 pipes, and other groceries. The new schoolmis- 
 tress adorned her windows most enticingly with 
 gaudy stucco images of St. Joseph at ninepence 
 each, rosaries of scarlet beads for eighteen-penee, 
 and coloured pictures of monks and nuns in very 
 devout attitudes, while exhibiting faces of most 
 disastrous melancholy. These had a sort of terri-
 
 284 BEATRICE. 
 
 fying attraction for the young, wlio constantly 
 paused as they passed, flattened their noses against 
 the window-pane, and after staring first at the 
 barley-sugar medals, and then at the painted idols, 
 fingered with awe-stricken, but delighted horror to 
 gaze at a dismal nun, with an immense tear for ever 
 on her cheek, or at a monk evidently starving and 
 torturing himself to death. This was all so new to 
 the children, and even to their parents, that ail 
 ages and sexes clustered eagerly round the little 
 fascinating shop, with their large round eyes 
 staring at these wonderful representations, and 
 their noses almost breaking the glass while trying 
 to read these authentic histories, and wishing to 
 buy story-books that told tales as fearful and as 
 truthful as a night-mare, every one more romantic 
 than the Seven Champions of Christendom. 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine, with smiling philanthropy, invited 
 all the young people to enter her warehouse, and 
 benevolently sold them bargains of her books and 
 tracts for whatever price they could afford to give, 
 adding sometimes a present of a print representing 
 some terrifying auto-da-fe^ or some incredible ap- 
 parition. The villagers, over-awed and interested 
 by the impenetrable mystery of Mrs. Lorraine's 
 cr^gin and projects, listened with constantly 
 increasing and constantly baffled inquisitiveness, 
 i n a perfect frenzy of curiosity, to every particular 
 of their children's visits at the residence of this
 
 BEATRICi;. 285 
 
 mysterious neighbour, about whom there arose in 
 the neighbourhood a perfect outcry of gossip. As 
 Robert Carre jestingly said, " Never before, since 
 the world was the world, did an incognita appear 
 in our village, and I wish she may not turn out 
 like the cat among the mice ! " 
 
 It soon became an ascertained fact among the 
 villagers, that this living enigma, Mrs. Lorraine, 
 never received a single letter, that she lived on a 
 crust of the driest bread, and that, nevertheless, 
 money was no object to her, as she lavished it on 
 every Popish scheme, with a profusion hitherto un- 
 drea »ied of in Clanmarina ; therefore hers must be 
 a voluntary poverty. 
 
 ** Popish money can do no one here any good ; ' 
 said Robert Carre earnestly. "If Mrs. Lorraine, 
 who looks as dismal as midnight in winter, means 
 us well, why is she so secret ? Why come like a 
 vagabond dropped from the clouds, and belonging 
 to nobody ? She has the look of some one who 
 has committed crimes ; she has a stealthy, thievish, 
 convict step, and a very cunning eye." 
 
 In spite of all that Robert could say or hint, 
 ?\!rs. Jesuit, as he called her, still kept her place, 
 an object of suspicion and fear among those who 
 thought her " no better than she should be, or 
 probably worse;" but gaining rapidly in the 
 confidence of others who found her liberality con- 
 venient, or her conversation, though startling, still 
 M 3
 
 286 BEATRICE. 
 
 full of an almost painful interest, and of irresistible 
 excitement. 
 
 At an unusually early hour one morning, Lady 
 Edith had set out, intending to try whether by any 
 means she could persuade Mrs. Lorraine to dis- 
 continue her proselyting manoeuvres for gaining 
 over her pretty young favourite, Bessie, respecting 
 whose intimacy with the schoolmistress old 
 M'^Ronald, the girl's uncle, had expressed that 
 day the greatest uneasiness ; therefore Lady Edith 
 determined to speak in few, but resolute terms, her 
 opinion of the falsehood and treachery by which 
 Mrs. Lorraine had obtained a place in the con- 
 fidence of those she was now betraying. 
 
 The little garden leading from Heatherbrae 
 lane to Mrs, Lorraine's cottage, was a lovely but 
 almost impenetrable thicket of roses and briers, 
 intersected with sprays of honeysuckle, and 
 studded with foxglove, periwinkle, and long 
 wreaths of hawthorn. The whole enclosure had 
 become populous with birds, but besides the 
 thrushes and blackbirds and the hum of bees, 
 Lady Edith, on entering Mrs. Lorraine's garden, 
 heard the hum of two voices apparently in very 
 deep conference within a small arbour of fragrant 
 woodbines at a retired nook of the little enclosure. 
 Turning carelessly round, to see who at this early 
 hour could be thus earnestly engaged in conversa- 
 tion, she gave a start of painful surprise on
 
 BEATRICE. 287 
 
 recognising Mr. Clinton seated with an open book 
 on tile table before him. He was deeply occupied 
 in reading it to Mrs. Lorraine, who sat demure, 
 sedate, pale, and downcast, in her shabby gown 
 and unspeakable bonnet, as usual, but listening 
 most intently, and breaking in to make a remark 
 from time to time, which she did in a low earnest 
 voice, while her companion listened with profound 
 attention. 
 
 After standing for some minutes transfixed in 
 astonished contemplation of this profoundly occu- 
 pied pair. Lady Edith advanced slowly towards 
 the arbour, making her presence purposely audible 
 by a slight cough. On hearing this, Mr. Clinton, 
 with a startled look, rose to meet Lady Edith, 
 but his manner, unlike its ordinary quiet tone, 
 was this morning fussy, fidgety, bustling, and 
 speechifying, though making an evident effort 
 to seem composed, as he hurriedly advanced, 
 saying in a confidential aside, — 
 
 " I am quite delighted to see you here, so very 
 a propos, IjSidy Edith ! Mrs. Lorraine, poor soul ! 
 applied to me some time since for a few explana- 
 tions in defence of our Church, which of course 
 it is mv professional duty not to withhold. She 
 seems very open to argument, very humble, very 
 much to be pitied, and is exceedingly enlightened 
 herself. Mrs. Lorraine is, in short, a most reujark- 
 able woman."
 
 288 BEATRICE. 
 
 " Very remarkable, indeed ! " replied Lady 
 Edith, emphaticallyj '* and I hope we ne'er shall 
 look upon her like again in Clanmarina. Mr. 
 Clinton, I am a very old woman now, and have 
 known this world fifty years longer than you, let 
 me, then, though your office is generally to teach 
 me, in this one instance warn you to be careful 
 of associating with Mrs. Lorraine, or of setting 
 that example to your people." 
 
 " I never met with any Romanist so much 
 above prejudice, or who listened with such re- 
 spectful candour to our Protestant side of the 
 question," continued Mr. Clinton in a self-satisfied 
 tone. " Mrs. Lorraine assures me that you are 
 quite mistaken in suspecting her of a design 
 to make proselytes here. Her sole desire is to 
 live in undisturbed retreat herself, and to leave 
 others undisturbed." 
 
 " This looks very like it, indeed," replied Lady 
 Edith sadly, glancing at an open copy of " the 
 Glories of Mary," while Mrs. Lorraine kept her 
 eyes intently fixed on the ground, as if counting 
 the gravel-stones, but a strange unaccountable 
 sirrile hovered on her lips. *' I see a large parcel 
 of books here under my eye, Mr. Clinton, directed 
 to you, all, I suppose, in the same school as those 
 fabulous lives I observe there of Liguori and" his 
 brethren. It is surely a useless line of reading, if 
 it be not dangerous, which of course, to a sound
 
 BEATRICE. 289 
 
 Protestant clergyman, it cannot be. Still such 
 reading has a strange fascination, and in some few 
 astounding instances, the incessant study of such 
 works, with extreme fasting and sleepless watching, 
 has bewildered the faculties of clergymen high 
 in their profession, and higher still in the esti- 
 mation of thinking men." 
 
 " In fact. Lady Edith," observed Mr. Clinton, 
 colouring almost painfully, but endeavouring to 
 assume an undaunted tone, while Mrs. Lorraine 
 with a victorious smile sauntered away, *' there is 
 a time for all things, even for nonsense, and I do 
 find that with my small income, the few well-worn 
 books within my reach are as dull as an old 
 almanack. In this remote place to get hold of 
 some new publications hot and hot from the press, 
 is an irresistible temptation." 
 
 " I suppose no temptation is irresistible to you, 
 Mr. Clinton, nor any book acceptable contrary to 
 those Holy Scriptures, which are worth the whole 
 Bodleian Library put together," said Lady Edith, 
 her aged voice tremulous with emotion ; ** allow 
 me to remind my long-esteemed friend of one 
 important line in that book, which it is our greatest 
 of earthly privileges to read, though the Romanists 
 would deprive us of its presence ; * Let him that 
 thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall.' " 
 
 " Quite right. Lady Edith, quite right ! I am 
 sure you mean kindly," replied Mr. Clinton,
 
 290 BEATRICE. 
 
 assuming a stern graciousness of manner, but 
 drumming vehemently on his hat. ** Mrs. Lorraine's 
 request was, in fact, a professional summons to 
 attempt her conversion, which no clergyman could 
 conscientiously neglect. She gives me very 
 sanguine hopes of being brought round by the 
 unanswerable arguments I have placed before her 
 mind, and says I am the first Protestant who has 
 ever made her think at all." Lady Edith remained 
 anxiously silent, while Mr. Clinton, who had 
 gradually walked with her aside, continued in an 
 under-tone of undoubting confidence in his own 
 powers, saying, " Mrs. Lorraine, like too many 
 Papists, magnifies the defects of our Protestant 
 Church, and greatly undervalues its merits." 
 
 •' Yes," observed Lady Edith, drily, " she will 
 probably try to persuade you that the Protestant 
 Church is a great blunder that ought to be put 
 down, — that it is in a sort of second childhood ! " 
 
 " Fortunately, that is a subject on which I am 
 fully competent to cope with any one," replied 
 Mr. Clinton, looking very conscientious and very 
 secure, '' especially — excuse me for saying so — 
 especially with a lady, though, truth to say, 
 Mrs. Lorraine is a very uncommon one, so 
 thoroughly well-informed, yet so perfectly candid 
 in appreciating an opponent. Her respect for me 
 is, T must say, almost painfully extreme." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Clinton, and no one can talk
 
 BEATRICE. 291 
 
 morality more morally than a Jesuit ; but read 
 their books. Jesuitism written with indelible 
 truthfulness in their own pages, is very diiferent 
 from Jesuitism spoken in conversational deceit. 
 I had hoped that the deception practised by 
 Mrs. Lorraine in stealing on my confidence here, 
 might have diminished your trust in her veracity." 
 
 " What a hardened unbeliever you are in poor 
 Mrs. Lorraine ! Do you mean deliberate iv to 
 assert, my dear Lady Edith, that in good honest 
 old England there are actual Jesuits crawling 
 about in society ? " replied Mr. Clinton, laughing 
 incredulously, and carefully putting his spectacles 
 into their case ; '' as Mrs. Lorraine says, you and 
 I should know the world better now than to believe 
 in such hobgoblins and wandering fanatics. These 
 stories are, as MrSc Lorraine remarks, mere tittle- 
 tattle, unworthy of you, the most sensible woman 
 on earth — and the best." i 
 
 " I am not to be flattered out of my fears, 
 Mr. Clinton. Beware of Mrs. Lorraine ! " replied 
 Lady Edith, her fine features mantling red with 
 anxiety ; " the lay Jesuits, you know, are called 
 ' Jesuits of the short gown,' but Mrs. Lorraine's is 
 short enough to betray a cloven foot underneath. 
 Like a hawk seizing on its prey, she would pounce 
 on the young and unwary in your congregation. 
 She would relieve them of any anxiety respecting 
 their little property, by taking all they possess or
 
 292 BEATRICE. 
 
 ever shall inherit, giving each deluded victim but 
 one certainty, namely, that whatever he has to 
 resign, shall afterwards be for ever withheld from 
 himself and his relations. In compensation the 
 convert receives a mass, beneficently settled upon 
 him after death." 
 
 ** Mrs. Lorraine assures me, that these absurd 
 stories of practical roguery are all the merest 
 invention of enemies to her religion. Surely, niy 
 dear Lady Edith, you cannot seriously believe 
 them ! " replied Mr. Clinton, in a tone of very 
 superior information. '^ Depend upon this — in 
 good honest old England there are no Jesuits 
 going loose in society ; I never yet saw one.'* 
 
 " Then you may see one every day gratis, by 
 looking at the lady who summons you thus to a 
 cabinet council in the garden. Mr. Clinton, 
 when Shakspeare said, ' All the world 's a stage, 
 he should have added, 'particularly to the Jesuits,' 
 because among them the men and women are 
 indeed ' merely players.' None ever were better 
 actors, being able and willing to assume any 
 part." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " replied Mr. Clinton, carelessly laugh- 
 ing, " I seem not to have studied like you the 
 natural history of the Jesuits." 
 
 " Then it would be well to do so now. You 
 know the General of the Jesuits said once to the 
 Due de Brissac, * From this room I govern not
 
 BEATRICE. 293 
 
 only Paris, but China ; not only China, but the 
 whole world, without any one understanding the 
 manner in which I achieve so colossal a power.' 
 No body of police is equal to them. They form 
 a spiritual army at war with the individual interests 
 of all mankind, and are bound as the spirit of one 
 man slavishly to obey their elected superior. 
 Shall free-born Britons allow such coils to be 
 thrown over their hearts and their homes?" 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine had very remarkable ears, so 
 acute that it seemed as if she could hear the very 
 grass grow; and she listened with her whole might 
 to this conversation, while a look of malignant 
 satisfaction glittered in her eyes when Lady Edith, 
 with a last glance of most anxious solicitude, pre- 
 pared to withdraw. Mr. Clinton politely escorted 
 her to the garden-gate, where she said, in accents 
 of deep emotion, at parting, " I cannot be so un- 
 friendly a friend as not once more to warn you 
 earnestly, Mr. Clinton, against that strange deli- 
 rium which comes over those who trust themselves 
 to associate with Jesuits. Why link yourself in 
 any degree, or in any way, with Mrs. Lorraine ? 
 Why give her your sanction in the village, by let- 
 ting her be seen with you ? Mr. Clinton, you 
 have often said to me, that the reputation of a 
 clergyman is as easily injured as the wing of a 
 butterfly : once touched, the stain is irreparable. 
 If, then, Mrs. Lorraine wishes to become a Pro-
 
 294 BEATRICE. 
 
 testant, let her come to your church for instruc- 
 tion, and let her read vsuch books as you recom- 
 mend, rather than point out a course of reading 
 to you; but do not, as a Protestant clergyman, 
 become her confessor ! " 
 
 Mr. Clinton laughingly held out his hand to 
 Lady Edith, saying, in a tone of cheerful obsti- 
 nacy, '* Never fear ! Mrs. Lorraine has no more 
 influence with me than that pebble under my foot ; 
 but she compares herself to a shattered wreck 
 upon the waters, looking up to me for guidance ; 
 and, coute qui coute^ she shall have it. A more 
 interesting case than hers I never met with." 
 
 Lady Edith's countenance had become blanched 
 with anxiety during this interview; for she deeply 
 felt that, by being seen among the villagers to 
 countenance Mrs. Lorraine, Mr. Clinton had left 
 his usual prudence at home ; and in his averted 
 countenance she saw that he was acting against 
 his own better judgment ; but he hurriedly took 
 leave at the gate, saying, with a persecuted look, 
 and in a tone half jesting, and more than half 
 irritated — 
 
 " Really, Lady Edith, you should preach on a 
 tub ! — you should be Archbishop of Canterbury ! 
 Depend upon it, that Britain is more than a match 
 for the Pope, and I for Mrs. Lorraine. We must 
 sometimes, however, — as good, excellent Mrs. Lor- 
 raine said to-dav, — look over the wall round our
 
 BEATRICE. 295 
 
 own section of the Church, to admire and appre- 
 ciate good elsewhere — even among Papists.'' 
 
 Mr. Clinton turned away, wdth the resolute de- 
 termination of one whom no circumstances could 
 influence ; and then, assuming an air of easy indif- 
 ference, he strolled back to Mrs. Lorraine, saying, 
 in an apologetic tone, while the cordage of his 
 angry countenance relaxed into a smile, '' My ex- 
 cellent friend, Lady Edith, takes quite a com- 
 mander-in-chief tone to-day ; but she has so many 
 admirable first-rate qualities, that one must forgive 
 what is so well intended." 
 
 " It is best for us all, when we are hated and 
 despised, even by a person so supremely good as 
 Lady Edith, whom I admire and love as every one 
 must; yet surely you may act for yourself here 
 without haWng for ever to ask, * What will Mrs. 
 Grundy say ?' " observed Mrs. Lorraine, with her 
 usual audacious hypocrisy. *' Let all eyes be 
 averted from me with indifference or dislike, — let 
 no human being love me, for the ties of affection 
 in this sinful world are ensnaring, and therefore 
 sinful. Never let me be defended from obloquy ; 
 lor that is an atmosphere to which I must accustom 
 myself." 
 
 " But," said Mr. Clinton, with vivid interest, 
 " why encourage a false opinion against yourself?" 
 
 " I encourage no opinion at all, Mr. Clinton," 
 replied Mrs. Lorraine, glancing after Lady Edith,
 
 296 BEATRICE. 
 
 with an expression of scornful pity. " My oniy 
 aim is, with your inestimable advice, to obtain a 
 pious tranquillity, alike forgetting and forgot, — to 
 obey rather than to command, — to have nothing, 
 and to be nothing." 
 
 Mrs. Lorraine was a first-rate comedian, and 
 had inimitable assurance. She strolled slowly up 
 and down the little grass plot, with demure steps 
 and down-cast eyes, adopting a sort of sister Agnes 
 expression of martyrdom, which touched the sym- 
 pathy of Mr. Clinton, who felt a strangely in- 
 creasing fascination, while listening to all the 
 desolate world-detesting thoughts of his dismal 
 companion. He watched her fanatic look with 
 almost superstitious interest; while, with obstinate 
 curiosity, he persevered in listening to all her per- 
 plexities, and in discussing many metaphysical 
 difficulties, respecting which she artfully inveigled 
 him to argue, by saying, " These are subjects on 
 which I need the very best advice ; therefore to 
 you I come, knowing how able you are, if willing, 
 to lead me aright. I am terrified at the bare idea 
 of meeting a Jesuit, never having seen one in my 
 life ; therefore, to have one safe companion, now 
 that people say the country is overrun with them, 
 will be an inestimable privilege. Let me, then, 
 secure an escort in my friendless, solitary walks 
 sometimes, Mr. Clinton,' were it but to exchange 
 the remark, with a much esteemed and deeply-
 
 BEATRICE. 297 
 
 reverenced companion, how the shadows lengthen 
 as the sun declines. While you reniain my cham- 
 pion and friend in Clanmarina, I am indifferent — 
 perhaps too indifferent — what is thought of me by 
 inferior minds. 
 
 With me no melancholy void, 
 No moment lingers unemploy'd 
 Or unenjoy'd below.' "
 
 298 BEATRICE 
 
 (( ( 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 What shall I do with all the days and hour 
 That must be counted ere I see thy face 
 How shall I charm the interval that lowers 
 Between this time and thaf? ' " — Kemble. 
 
 It appeared from that day to Lady Edith and 
 Beatrice, as if it were impossible to stray beyond 
 their own enclosure without unwillingly encoun- 
 tering Mr. Clinton, in the shadiest lanes, slowly 
 escorting Mrs. Lorraine, while they were evidently 
 plunged into the very deepest of conferences, and 
 would have agreed with the old proverb, that 
 " three are bad company." One day, Mr. Clinton 
 having called on Lady Edith, who had not once 
 alluded to the subject of his Popish conferences 
 again, abruptly said, in a very gratified and self- 
 justifying tone, " You will be happy to hear. Lady 
 Edith, that Mrs. Lorraine seems rapidly coming 
 round to be again a firm Protestant. She is even 
 thinking to take a large pew in St. Mark's, pro- 
 vided I allow her to teach singing in ni}^ own 
 school, particularly the * Gregorian chants,' to 
 which there can be no rational objection ; and she 
 has presented me with a magnificent altar-cloth.
 
 BEATRICE. 299 
 
 rather more decorated than you may like, but 
 quite orthodox. I have also most carefully exa- 
 mined the tracts she is now so liberally distri- 
 buting; and, truty, nothing can be more harmless, 
 — rather imaginative, perhaps, but nevertheless 
 excellent; and the children are quite enchanted 
 with them." 
 
 " Mr. Clinton," said Lady Edith, with earnest 
 kindness, " on the subject of Mrs. Lorraine I have 
 been silent, though not convinced. Neither you 
 nor Mrs. Clinton apprehend any of the dangers I 
 so anxiously warned you both against ; therefore, 
 1 have long dropped the subject, though these sort 
 of platonic friendships are very seldom safe to 
 both parties. Madame de Chantal and St. Francis 
 de Sales are instances of the misery such religious 
 intimacies often produce, even where there is no 
 actual guilt; and our Protestant Church coun- 
 tenances no such confidential intercourse as a con- 
 fessor or director may enjoy with persons like 
 Mrs. Lorraine. You have begun the discussion 
 with me now ; therefore let me only say, what, if 
 these were the last words I am ever to utter, I 
 should feel bound to speak, — Beware of Mrs. Lor- 
 raine ! She is treacherous and influential, with a 
 dreadful ardour in misleading her victims. That 
 woman evidently has the same love of intrigue as 
 a gamester for play. She enjoys the mere excite- 
 ment ; and hers is that political as well as religious
 
 300 BEATRICE. 
 
 game, by which the sons and daughters of Loyola 
 hope, at last, to domineer over us all, individually 
 and collectively." 
 
 " Never fear!" replied Mr. Clinton in a brief 
 and rather imperious tone, '' you and the rest of 
 my congregation seem to think, if there be a fog or 
 an east wind, that it is poor Mrs. Lorraine's fault, 
 and all warn me that she is dangerous ; but the 
 hour of my perversion, as she herself said to me 
 yesterday, will not strike on the church clock of 
 Clanmarina for a handful of centuries. Mrs. Lor- 
 raine tells me she has very bitter enemies who 
 circulate a thousand absurd stories to vent their 
 ill-will — all perfectly atrocious falsehoods, invented 
 by those who circulate them." 
 
 " I should feel myself quite at a loss, Mr. 
 Clinton, what to say, did I find myself disbe- 
 lieved," observed Lady Edith with simple dignity. 
 " That is a position in which during my very long 
 life I never yet stood with anyone. I am not now 
 actuated by any dislike to Mrs. Lorraine personally, 
 but by my very deep interest in you and yours. 
 Do not, then, mistake me. As to individual human 
 beings, I hate no one, but I would by every means 
 counteract any mortal in doing mischief. I now 
 bid you, Mr. Clinton, an anxious and very sorrow- 
 ful farewell." 
 
 *' Pray bid me anything else !" said Mr. Clinton 
 trying to assume a tone of careless good humour.
 
 BEATRICE. Wt 
 
 " Though you cannot make me such a bigot as to 
 refuse Mrs. Lorraine the benefit she evidently 
 derives from my humble services, still that need 
 make no difference in our old Protestant alliance." 
 
 "But it does make a very serious difference if 
 my confidence in you be shaken," answered Lady 
 Edith gravely. " We meet seldomer than for- 
 merly of late, and perhaps before long we may 
 cease to meet at all ; for, Mr. Clinton, let me say, 
 that the first symptom of any advance towards 
 Romanism on your part would instantly banish 
 me and mine from your chapel. There shall be 
 no perversions in my house if the most anxious 
 precautions can hinder thera." 
 
 " How I hate people to be always in the right," 
 muttered Mr. Clinton to himself; " Lady Edith 
 will be quite a blot upon the page of any pro- 
 jected improvements in the Church Service." 
 
 Next day was a breezy, airy, brilliant morning, 
 the cattle standing knee-deep in the bright clear 
 arrowy stream, while the whole world seemed one 
 glorious scene of sunshine and flowers, when Lady 
 Edith and Beatrice, tired of encountering Mr. 
 Clinton and his intended proselyte, Mrs. Lorraine, 
 in the shady bye-roads, resolved to try a new path 
 towards Mrs, M^Ronald's cottage by the sea- 
 shore. They were returning late in the evening 
 homewards, along a winding down-hill road, among 
 garlands of wild roses and foxglove, admiring a 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 302 BEATRICE. 
 
 gorgeous setting sim of majestic beauty, which 
 flooded the ocean with crimson, when Lady Edith 
 observed two persons walking together at a slow, 
 lagging, pensive pace. Suddenly both wanderers 
 stopped irresolutely, as if unwilling to meet any 
 one, and seemed yet more unwilling to meet Lady 
 Edith and Beatrice, when they ascertained who it 
 was that they had unexpectedly seen. 
 
 Could this be that perpetual Mrs. Lorraine 
 again ? thought Lady Edith : but no, it was 
 Robert Carre, his tall figure firm, erect, and vigo- 
 rous, while with an air of rustic gallantry that 
 became him admirably, he was escorting Bessie 
 M^Ronald, "the little daisy of Clanmarina," home- 
 wards. Never had Lady Edith seen a brighter 
 personification of human happiness than these 
 two. Bessie in her cottage bonnet and gingham 
 dress, with downcast eyes and blushing smiles, 
 was inspecting a valentine of extremely gaudy 
 colouring and sentimental character, representing 
 a shepherd, in very pink silk-stockings, on one 
 knee in a ploughed field, presenting a flaming 
 bouquet of yellow daffodils to a young shepherdess 
 dressed in a rainbow of variously coloured silks, and 
 carrying in her arms a lamb larger than any full- 
 grown sheep. The two young people together 
 formed a pleasing group to represent the per- 
 fection of rural felicity, a perfect pastoral in the 
 style of Watteau; but while Lady Edith smilingly
 
 BEATRICE. 303 
 
 admired it, suddenly a pang shot through her 
 mind as she thought how httle the prudent 
 money-making old farmer, Robert's father, would 
 be pleased had he seen them, and how small 
 was the chance that this young man's love, even 
 were it perfectly faithful and true, could turn 
 out fortunate, considering the disparity in their 
 condition. 
 
 While Bessie, with a pretty mixture of genuine 
 modesty and village coquetry, contemplated the 
 valentine, young Carre whistled to his greyhounds, 
 switched the hedges, and in a tone of natural hila- 
 rity almost eclipsing the birds overhead, he ca- 
 rolled a rustic tune. There was in his sparkling 
 dark eyes a pleasant good-humoured consciousness 
 of his own attractions; but this interview was 
 evidently intended to be clandestine, as Bessie, 
 the moment she saw two figures advancing, paused, 
 faltering, trembling, and fluttering, till without 
 waiting to ascertain for certain who they were, she 
 darted into her mother's cottage, not even pausing 
 to take leave of her lover, who slowly advanced 
 along the path, and touched his hat to Lady 
 Edith, saying in a somewhat apologetic tone : — 
 
 " I met Bessie M'^Ronald coming out of Mrs. 
 Lorraine's this afternoon, my Lady, and wished to 
 see her safe home, or Father Eustace was pre- 
 paring to do so. She is in less danger on the 
 road alone, or anywhere, than at Mrs. Jesuit's, or 
 with the Popish Confessor."
 
 304 BEATRICE. 
 
 '* True Robert," answered Lady Edith an- 
 xiously, " there is not a better girl in Clanmarina 
 at present than Bessie, and I think you agree 
 with me. You and I are of one mind, too, I think, 
 about the danger of her renewed intimacy with 
 Mrs. Lorraine and Father Eustace, which is a 
 very strange one. Both you and Bessie have been 
 from earliest childhood under my friendly care, and 
 as you both seem now firmly to believe yourselves 
 grown up, have you well considered, Robert, to 
 what your long-continued intimacy may lead ? 
 Your young companion is very lonely and un- 
 protected, your father is very ambitious for a 
 son he is so proud of, and therefore let me 
 advise you not to encourage any mutual attach- 
 ment unless with some rational hope that it may 
 end happily." 
 
 " There might be difficulties with my father, no 
 doubt," replied Robert, beheading a daisy with 
 his switch. " Yet I would give all that I ever 
 even wish to possess for his consent. It would be 
 very important that Bessie and I should marry 
 immediately, to secure her to myself, before she 
 sees more of Mrs. Lorraine and Father Eustace, 
 whose influence over her has most strangely in- 
 creased of late. Lady Edith, let me say that 
 the future could offer me no brighter hope on 
 earth than to have a home for life with Bessie — 
 
 "* The sweetest thing that ever grew 
 Beside a human door.' "
 
 BEATRICE. 306 
 
 " Then, Robert, take my very best wishes for 
 your happiness and success," replied Lady Edith 
 kindly. " My views are very strong respecting the 
 value of human happiness and the guilt of need- 
 lessly injuring that of any living mortal, especially 
 of those who trust and love us ; but if you have 
 gained Bessie's young affections and given her in 
 exchange your own, all promises well, and I trust 
 all may soon go right." 
 
 Next day, about the same hour, Lady Edith 
 and Beatrice were sitting in the sunny little 
 parlour of Heath erbrae, making clothes for their 
 parish basket, when ]\I^Ronald, in a tone of 
 unusual importance, announced that two persons 
 below stairs wished, if convenient, to see Lady 
 Edith immediately. 
 
 " What is their business, and who are they ? " 
 asked she looking up, when to her no small asto- 
 nishment Lady Edith perceived that the old 
 soldier's whole countenance sparkled with joy, 
 and that his eyes perfectly glittered with a look 
 of suppressed humour. Making an almost con- 
 vulsive effort to preserve his usual tone of re- 
 spectful gravity, he managed to articulate without 
 laughing outright, though his countenance assumed 
 a look of most comic resignation, " They bade me 
 not mention any names, my Lady," 
 
 " Then," replied Lady Edith in her usual 
 pleasant cheerful tone, and gazing intently into 
 n3
 
 306 BEATRICE. 
 
 the depths of the fire, *' you know I never see 
 nameless intruders." 
 
 At this moment the proud and happy uncle of 
 Bessie turned round, and with a look of most 
 iniquitous drollery beckoned forward two persons 
 who stood hesitatingly and lingeringly near the 
 door. While cne hung timidly back, the other 
 seemed vainly urging her to advance, till at length, 
 with the sort of desperation necessary for entering 
 a dentist's audience- room, or for ascending the 
 scaffold, Bessie, her cheeks in a brilliant glow, 
 advanced, leaning on the arm of her proud and 
 happy lover. 
 
 " If you please, my Lady, Bessie is a little shy 
 at first," said Robert, coming forward and endea- 
 vouring to look as audacious himself as he could, 
 though his handsome sun-burnt face wore a stain 
 of scarlet on both cheeks very like shyness also. 
 He glanced at the April-h'ke joy beaming in the 
 beautiful face of his young companion, whose art- 
 less features betrayed the pleasant consciousness 
 of a first and only love, and added in a tone of 
 respectful animation, " I have got my father's 
 consent — likewise Bessie's, and all concerned ; 
 therefore our first visit together is to your Lady- 
 ship, the best friend either of us ever had, to ask 
 your blessing on the wedding, to be — very soon, I 
 liope." 
 
 ^^^ You have it with mv whole heart, and with
 
 BEATRICE. 307 
 
 the very greatest pleasure ; for, indeed, Robert, no 
 one could have brought me better news," replied 
 Lady Edith, kindly extending her hand to Bessie, 
 w^hose face had grown as scarlet as the rose dang- 
 ling at her lover's button-hole. *' I like a marriage 
 v^ell when it is so suitable, and never did two 
 young people set out in life toorether with what 
 seems to me a better prospect of Christian felicity. 
 As my two most esteemed pupils, you shall, for the 
 few remaining days of my life have my heartfelt 
 good wishes and prayers. May good faith and 
 good, fortune attend you." 
 
 Robert bent his head in respectful acknowledg- 
 ment of Lady Edith's warmly expressed kindness, 
 and Bessie, with a tear and a smile glittering in 
 her happy young face, looked the very personifi- 
 cation of a beautiful village bride in the earliest 
 bloom of her felicity. 
 
 " You must ask me to the wedding," added 
 Lady Edith vvith a pleasant smile. " I shall give 
 her wedding-gown to the bride, and to you, Robert, 
 as Burns calls it, ' the big ha' Bible,' from which 
 I hope you may both,, in a happy domestic home, 
 find, every day, more and more enjoyment 
 together." 
 
 When Lady Edith thus mentioned the Bible, a 
 momentary pang of agitation flitted over the lovely 
 young countenance of Bessie ; there was a quick 
 nervous tremour in h r lip, her eyes fell, and she
 
 308 BEATRICE. 
 
 became painfully thoughtful. A burning hectic 
 flush had now settled on her scarlet cheek, while 
 happy tears fell, pearl following pearl, over her 
 agitated face. Robert now, with a pleasing mixture 
 of respect and attachment, expressed to Lady Edith 
 in a tone of manly frankness, his pleasure at her 
 promise to be present at his marriage, and also at 
 her welcome gift, saying quaintly and earnestly, 
 " A Bible is doubly valued, my Lady, coming from 
 the first kind friend who taught us both to know 
 its worth. Bessie and I shall never forget to name 
 you in our daily prayers. We shall observe the 
 good old custom of Scotland, described by Robert 
 BurnSj my brother of the plough, — 
 
 " ' Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, 
 The precepts sage it sent to many a land.' " 
 
 Bessie, while her handsome young lover spoke 
 thus, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm, cast a 
 wild and tremulous glance around, and then 
 covered her face with her hands, which visibly 
 trembled. Tears suddenly rolled in torrents down 
 her cheeks, and her whole countenance, which 
 assumed an expression of bitter compunction, 
 became convulsed by most unaccountable agita- 
 tion. Robert, with a look of tender interest, 
 grasped her hand, saying in accents of happy con- 
 fidence, ** You must shed no tears of sorrow, or 
 even of joy, now, Bessie, without my knowing the 
 reason why."
 
 BEATRICE. 309 
 
 Still no answer came from Bessie, though she 
 attempted in a little faint voice to speak, and 
 sobbed as if her heart would break. Robert 
 drawing her arm within his own, with a look of 
 trustful happiness, hurried her awaj, after once 
 more renewing his grateful thanks to Lady Edith, 
 while Bessie's blushing face was like a whole 
 garden of roses. 
 
 Lady Edith watched from the window for their 
 departure, her bright clear eye expressing what it 
 very rarely did, perplexity. She was relieved, 
 however, to see the young bride, though tears 
 were yet racing down her cheek, smiling once 
 more as fresh and blooming as the flowers in 
 her hand ; and the happy pair, with all the buoy- 
 ancy of youth, health, and entire affection, 
 stumbled hurriedly away to enjoy their felicity 
 alone ; while Beatrice repeated to herself these 
 lines, — 
 
 " We were both born into one town, 
 And both brought up together ; 
 Before that we were seven years old, 
 The one did love the other." 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Lady Edith, turning to 
 Beatrice with a smile of benevolent satisfaction, 
 '' Robert Carre has indeed shown a most generous 
 and disinterested affection, for which I hope he 
 will be rewarded by long years of the best happi- 
 ness which God bestows on his people in this
 
 310 BEATRICE. 
 
 world — and that is home-happiness. There 
 was something in the young bride's manner 
 at the Jast not quite satisfactory, and yet I can 
 scarcely say why. Did you not observe a strange 
 anxious expression in her face ? Robert and 
 Bessie are both very superior in refinement of 
 mind and heart to their natural position, and no 
 sight in nature is so delightful as the well-founded 
 felicity of two such young people, beginning life, 
 as I trust they will continue and end it, with a 
 fervent devotion to that God who gives them all 
 things so richly to enjoy." 
 
 " Their visit has made me so merry that I 
 could sing like a linnet," said Beatrice with her 
 soft ringing girlish laugh. " Toothing in this 
 world is so pleasant to see, or so rare a sight, 
 as perfect felicity. I am sure Bessie will make a 
 good wife for Robert, and, as Shakspeare says, 
 * keep his house, wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, 
 dress meat, make the beds, and do all herself.'" 
 
 *' There is in Bessie's disposition much to like," 
 added Lady Edith anxiously, *' but much also to 
 make one dread her remaining under the fascina- 
 ting witchcraft of Mrs. Lorraine. Lively, excitable, 
 and imaginative, she has also a certain degree of 
 sentiment and a genius for fantastic reveries, as 
 well as an implicit trustfulness in everybody. If 
 she found a pickpocket with her purse in his hand 
 she would think he had picked it up by accident
 
 BEATRICE. 311 
 
 in the street ; I know that Mrs. Lorraine has 
 been dazzling her young mind by a wily picture 
 of splendid self-sacrifices when girls renounce all 
 those domestic affections, for the right enjoyment 
 of which the Holy Bible gives so many instructions, 
 and devote themselves to playing at Popery, with 
 childish beads, pictures, and scourges." 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Beatrice laughing, " I quite 
 respect that penurious Mr. Carre for so cordially 
 consenting, as I thought he would have been like 
 the flinty-hearted father in an old comedy." 
 
 '* Avarice, like other species of insanity, has its 
 lucid intervals," answered Lady Edith: "yet the 
 trial to Mr. Carre must be very great, for he has 
 spent a perfect fortune in making Robert so 
 nearly a gentleman in ideas and in manner as he 
 is. I think it always generous in parents to give 
 their sons an education so very much above their 
 own, for it is apt to make a very serious dis- 
 parity in mind, manners, and habits ; but Robert 
 is one of nature's nobility, whose excellent dispo- 
 sition nothing can spoil. Bessie, with no portion 
 but beauty and virtue, will be a grateful daughter 
 to Mr. Carre, and it would have been more easy 
 for Robert to find his own equal in fortune than 
 in disposition and intellect. I have a thorough 
 conviction, which nothing has ever altered, of the 
 happiness attendant on a well-founded attach- 
 ment; and old Carre, honest man, has literally
 
 312 BEATRICE. 
 
 acted on an opinion he once gave to the late Lord 
 Eaglescairn, when his lordship tried to break off 
 his second son's marriage. I remember Mr. Clin- 
 ton repeating the words which then amused me, 
 " ' Never prevent any young man from making a 
 respectable choice, or he will soon after make 
 a much worse. If my son, in our line of life, 
 wanted to marry your lordship's cook and I hin- 
 dered him, he would certainly go oif next year 
 with the scullion.' Robert Carre, with his deep 
 feelings and sound education, reminds me always 
 of Robert Burns, whom he so lately quoted here ; 
 such fervour of intellect, such natural eloquence 
 of language, such real poetry in his attachment to 
 Bessie ; but in one respect he leaves the Scottish 
 bard far behind, as the moral sobriety of his life 
 and the earnestness of his religious devotion are 
 quite unimpeachable. Sucli an attachment from 
 such a man an empress might envy, for it leads to 
 home-happiness and to simple home-felt piety. 
 
 " ' Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, 
 In all the pomp of method and of art, 
 When men display to congregations wide. 
 Devotion's every grace, except the heart l—Burna.' " 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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