"L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 h
 
 THE 
 
 OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 TREVELYAX" AXD "A MARRIAGE IX HIGH LIFE." 
 
 His brow was sad, his eye beneath 
 Flashed like a faulchion from its sheath, 
 And like a silver clarion rung 
 The accents of that unknown tongue, 
 
 Excelsior !" Longfellow. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. ''U^^i^y' 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOXDON: 
 RICHARD BEXTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 ISoCj.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/oldgreychurch01scot
 
 £23 
 
 THE 
 
 OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was long past midnight, and the bright 
 lights had one by one disappeared from 
 ^^- within the rooms of the different colleges 
 in Oxford. Even from those where 
 thoughtless amusement and dissipation 
 had been protracted far into the night, but 
 a faint flickering gleam was still seen, and 
 occasionally a dark figure passed slowly 
 between it and the casement, in one of the 
 quadrangles of Oriel College. Tliis dark, 
 tall figure was that of Henry Seville, a 
 junior fellow of that college, and curate of 
 one of the parish churches in the city, who 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 \3^
 
 Z THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 was anxiously keeping watch in the sick 
 room of his young friend Eustace Grey. 
 Long and dangerous had been his illness, 
 and for many a day and night, nothing 
 had been heard from the sufferer's hps but 
 the incoherent ravings of delirium ; as he 
 alternately gave utterance to feelings of 
 the deepest contrition for the past, or in 
 imagination seemed to hold converse with 
 one, whom he sometimes addressed as the 
 playfellow of his boyhood, at others as the 
 future companion of his life ; and who, in 
 the one form or other, appeared to be always 
 (to his imagination) hovering about his 
 bed. These feverish delusions had, how- 
 ever, now nearly left him, and he had gra- 
 dually sunk into that calm repose of both 
 mind and body which indicates approach- 
 ing recovery. 
 
 It was, however, but very slowly that 
 Eustace Grrey regained his strength or 
 spirits, and many weeks elapsed before he 
 was able to resume his reading and usual 
 habits of college life ; and when he did
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 3 
 
 again appear in Hall and at Lectures, 
 "How sadly poor Grey is altered!" was 
 the exclamation of all liis friends on be- 
 holding him. 
 
 " His gay spirits seem to be all gone — 
 Neville has infected him, and made him as 
 serious as himself (according to his own 
 cant phraseology) ; and it is such a pity !— 
 he was so pleasant ! — so full of fun ! — up 
 to an}i:hing ! and now one hears of nothing 
 but his ' thankfulness to heaven for his re- 
 recoveryl of his ' hopes that he may make 
 a better use of life if spared' and all that 
 sort of canting stuff and nonsense ; all, of 
 course, put into his head by that purita- 
 nical prig Neville ! It is really quite melan- 
 choly to see any one so changed." 
 
 " Why the d— 1 could not Neville let 
 poor Grrey alone ? — he was surely good 
 enough for any one and anything, and it 
 is clear he is now done for ; when once that 
 serious disease attacks a man, it is all over 
 with him, and Grey is not one to do any- 
 thing by halves : he mil be shutting him- 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE OLD GKEY CHURCH. 
 
 self up with liis piety and penitence till 
 there will be no living: with him ! — such a 
 pity ! — such a capital fellow !" 
 
 Such were the lamentations poured forth 
 b}^ his former associates over their late 
 light-hearted companion, Eustace Grey. 
 And they were right as to the change 
 which they observed in him, for he was in 
 truth an altered man ! — I^ot that his 3^outh 
 had ever been disgraced by actual vice ; 
 from that pollution he had been preserved, 
 not so much, perhaps, by principle, as by 
 circumstances, and by a refinement of taste 
 and feeling natm\al to him, which made 
 him shrink with disgust from profligacy of 
 every sort ; but being peculiarly popular 
 at college, and blessed with health and 
 spirits, he had hitherto been gay with the 
 gay, and thoughtless with the thoughtless ; 
 and although destined for holy orders, he 
 had, it must be confessed, engaged in that 
 hne of life (marked out for him by circum- 
 stances, and others, rather than chosen by 
 himself from rehgious feeling) with very 

 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 5 
 
 little or no serious sense of the importance 
 of tlie sacred duties to which it called him ; 
 looking, in short, upon the ministry more 
 in the light of an eo.sy, gentlemanlike way of 
 securing to himself an establishment and 
 occupation in life, than as a solemn call to 
 entire devotion of heart and every feeling 
 of his soul, in short, of his whole ex- 
 istence, to the service of his Maker ; and 
 his engaging manners, and peculiarly 
 agreeable social qualities, had helped to 
 draw him into habits of life and society 
 perhaps not strictly clerical ! 
 
 Such had been Eustace Grey, when a 
 sudden, violent, and long-protracted illness, 
 during which he hung for weeks between 
 life and death, at once arrested him in his 
 thoughtless career, and by separating him 
 for lono: from all his former associates, 
 threw him entirely into the hands of that 
 Henry Neville, whose influence over him 
 Eustace's more worldly friends so much 
 deplored ! 
 
 Neville was considerably older than
 
 6 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Grey, of peculiarly reserved manners and 
 grave turn of mind, owing partly to trials 
 and difficulties in early life, and since to 
 the most exalted piety, wliicli, by reducing 
 this world's enjoyments to their real value, 
 had ended by weaning him entirely from 
 them; so that it might truly be said of 
 ]S'e^411e, that his fii'st and only object in 
 illis hfe w^as the next. This was at least 
 the case so far as his own existence was 
 concerned. But no one could enter more 
 warmly into the interests, even the worldly 
 interests, of others ; and strict as he was to 
 himself, no one looked with more indul- 
 gence upon the faults and failings of his 
 fellow- creatures, or made greater allowance 
 for those pecuhar temptations to which 
 youth is exposed. His position, as fellow 
 of the college to which Eustace Grey be- 
 longed, gave him many opportunities for 
 exerting an influence for good over the 
 undergraduates, such as no parish priest 
 can possess at the University, unless he is 
 also resident in college ; and there was
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 7 
 
 sometliing so especially attractive in 
 Eustace Grey, that from the time of his 
 first coming to Oxford, Neville had felt 
 strangely drawn towards him. No two 
 beings certainly could be, to all apj^ear- 
 ances, less congenial than the bright young 
 undergraduate and the grave taciturn 
 fellow : but there exists a sort of free- 
 masomy in the human character ; heart ac- 
 knowledges heart by some secret recogni- 
 tion not to be detected by those who are 
 not initiated in the mystery, and when to 
 all external appearance such sympathy is 
 entirely wanting. 
 
 Long, frequent, and most interesting 
 were the conversations which, since Eus- 
 tace's illness, had taken place between him 
 and his " Father Confessor " (as Eustace 
 styled his friend Neville), and which 
 invariably left the former strengthened in 
 mind and principle, feeling as if a new 
 existence was opened before him ; new 
 interests, new principles of action, new 
 objects in life, of which he had never
 
 8 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 before dreamt, were now presented to his 
 mind, and he indulged in even the most 
 romantic dreams of future usefulness in, 
 and devotion to, the cause to which he 
 was before long to pledge himself. 
 
 One day, after one of those (to both) 
 most interesting discussions relative to 
 Eustace's futm-e prospects in life, he gra- 
 dually became abstracted, and for a time 
 both he and his friend were silent. At 
 length Eustace seemed to make an effort 
 to speak, and while his now habitually 
 pale face became crimson — 
 
 " Mr. Neville," said he, '' you must be 
 my father confessor in reality ; for I have 
 a confession to make to you. I am quite 
 in earnest," he added hastily, obser^'ing a 
 smile to pass over his friend's face ; " and 
 I must not let you think more highly of 
 me than I deserve. I fear I am not the 
 devoted servant of our comm.on Master 
 which you appear to consider me ; I have 
 other interests, other feelings ; and per- 
 haps they are too strong, too engrossing :
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH, 9 
 
 in sliort, I fear I may not be equal to tlie 
 exalted duties to which the profession I 
 have undertaken calls me, and that this 
 world's affections have too strong a hold 
 upon me." 
 
 Mr. Neville did not immediately reply. 
 An unusually dark cloud gathered on his 
 countenance, and without even raising his 
 eyes towards his young friend, he merely 
 said, as if speaking to himself, " Ah, I 
 feared so it was !" 
 
 '' Feared V repeated Eustace, hastily, 
 " whj feared?'' 
 
 " Because, as you have yourself just 
 said, it will be more difficult for you to do 
 your duty, more difficult for you to resist 
 the deceits and temptations of the world, 
 the flesh, and the devil." 
 
 "But surely," rejoined Eustace, in a 
 dejected tone, " we find nothing in the 
 word of Grod forbidding those who enter 
 the sacred ministry taking to themselves 
 helpmates ! some of the apostles even, 
 were, we know, married men. I am not
 
 10 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 going to be a monk, or a Eoman CathoKc 
 priest; and a Protestant country clergyman 
 positively requires a helpmate, an assistant 
 in tlie discharge of liis parochial duties." 
 
 " Yes, perhaps," replied JSTeyille, " if 
 she is a ' helpmate ' indeed. If she is 
 meet, fit to help him ; if she enters heart 
 and soul into the work; but how few 
 3^oung women are thus qualified ! with 
 most of them their frivolous worldly edu- 
 cation fits them for nothing but this 
 world and its pastimes. They, too, should 
 (in some degree, at least) be, like their 
 husbands, moved by the ' holy Spirit ' of 
 God to their vocation in life. And even 
 then, I should advise a young man en- 
 gaging in holy orders to attend to the 
 advice of St. Paul. You remember what 
 he says on the subject of marriage : ' I 
 would have you without carefulness : he 
 that is unmarried caretli for the things 
 that belong to the Lord, how he may 
 please the Lord ; but he that is married 
 careth for the things that are of the
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. ] i 
 
 world, liow he may please Hs wife.' At 
 ordination we take, you know, a solemn 
 oath to devote om'selves, om- hearts, and 
 Hves to the sacred cause we undertake, 
 and we profess to be moved thereto by 
 the Holv Ghost : now if that heart, that 
 life, instead of being given to the Creator, 
 is devoted to the creature, our vow is 
 broken, and we are forsworn."' 
 
 Eustace said nothing; his face was 
 averted, but liis fi'iend saw plainly the 
 pain he was inflicting, and it touched his 
 kind heart. After a moment's pause he 
 resumed — "'•' Much, however, of course, 
 depends on a proper selection of this help- 
 mate. She raay lead to much evil, but 
 also she raay, I will allow, possibly lead to 
 good ; but even at the best, I must con- 
 fess I consider marriage to be a great trial 
 of a young man's steadiness to his paro- 
 chial duties. Home interests are so 
 strong, so engrossing I a wife's influence 
 so overpowering ! however, I will concede 
 so far as to allow that the advisabihty of
 
 12 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 matrimony for a young clergyman depends 
 very much on the circumstances in which 
 he is placed, though still more on the 
 choice he makes. 
 
 "It is therefore, so very important a 
 choice, it must not be made without much 
 deliberation and much prayer for divine 
 direction. Indeed, I would not advise 
 any young man taking orders (under any, 
 even the most favourable auspices) to 
 think of marriage, until he has tried, and 
 is quite sure of himself ; till his clerical 
 habits of life are quite established; till 
 they engross his mind and heart ! 
 
 " Then, but not till then, I will allow 
 him," IS^eville added with a smile, '' to 
 look out for one who will really be a help- 
 mate by assisting him in the work." 
 
 Neville ceased speaking, but Eustace 
 made no reply. His countenance had 
 gradually become more and more over- 
 cast, and tears even trembled in his eyes. 
 Neville went up to him, and kindly lay- 
 ino" his hand on his shoulder — " I am
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 13 
 
 sorry if I liave pained you, Grey, but I 
 cannot in conscience give you other ad- 
 vice, and I know you will not be angry 
 with me for speaking the truth." 
 
 Still Eustace said nothing. 
 
 " I feared this was the case," continued 
 Neville. " During your illness, in your 
 delirium you spoke constantly of her and 
 to her by some nickname apparently, 
 which I could not make out ; so your 
 secret, if it is one, is safe enough with 
 me." The blood rose to Eustace's face, 
 and crimsoned even his forehead, and 
 then as suddenly returning to his heart, 
 left him ghastly pale. 
 
 Neville continued — " But surely you 
 cannot be actually engaged ? you are not 
 yet three-and-twenty. You must take 
 time, my young friend, and much thought ; 
 this is but a mere boyish fancy, such as 
 we all have to encounter, and which will 
 pass off. You must seek much divine 
 guidance before you venture upon so im- 
 portant a step as the choice of a partner for
 
 14 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 life, one wliicli will affect, not only your 
 happiness here, but your soul's happiness 
 in eternity ! You must wait, indeed you 
 must," added Ne\dlle, kindly pressing the 
 passive hand of Eustace ; '' you must wait, 
 and God will direct you." 
 
 Neville's hand was not pressed in re- 
 turn; but after a pause, during which 
 Eustace seemed to be almost struggling 
 for breath, he said in a voice scarcely 
 audible, " We are engaged ! / am irre- 
 vocably engaged !" 
 
 " Irrevocably engaged ?" repeated Ne- 
 ville. 
 
 *' Yes, and in a manner even from our 
 childhood !" 
 
 Again both were silent. But after a 
 minute or two, Neville continued, " I do 
 not ask who she is, but may I ask what 
 she is ? Is she a child of God?" Again 
 there was a pause, when Eustace at last 
 stammered out, " I believe so — I hope so — 
 I fear I never thought, never inquired ! 
 I ! — I LOVED HER — passiouately loved
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 15 
 
 her!" His voice liad become more and 
 more inaudible at each of these humiliating 
 confessions, until, unable any longer to 
 command himself, he burst into tears. 
 ^NFeville stood irresolute — he knew not 
 what to do ; but at length, thinking it best 
 at that moment to leave his young friend 
 to himself, he moved towards the door. 
 
 Before opening it, however, he once 
 more turned and looked at Eustace. He 
 had buried his face in his hands, breathing 
 almost convulsively. 
 
 Neville's kind heart smote him for the 
 pain he had inflicted, and again he re- 
 turned to his friend's side. " Forgive me, 
 dear Grey," he said. " I know I have no 
 right to interfere, even to advise, in such 
 a case. If I have spoken my mind too 
 freely, if I have said things hard for young 
 flesh and blood to bear, I can only 
 plead in excuse the anxious interest with 
 which you have inspired me, and" (he 
 added, with a smile) " I feel it to be my 
 duty, in my character of your Father
 
 16 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Confessor, to give you all this unpalat- 
 able acMce." Again NeviUe pressed the 
 hand of Eustace, but the kind smile 
 which beamed on Neville's face was not 
 seen — the kind pressure of his hand was 
 again not returned, and Neville left the 
 room. 
 
 The friends did not for some time meet 
 again, except by chance in Clirist Church 
 Avenues or in the streets ; they then ac- 
 knowledged each other in their usual man- 
 ner. At least, if there was any difference, 
 it was only to be detected by themselves, 
 and no allusion whatever was made by 
 either to what had lately passed between 
 them. But it was evident that Eustace 
 avoided, rather than sought, the renewal 
 of those confidential tete-a-tetes, which 
 had before been so delightful to him. He 
 had httle or no intercourse either with his 
 former associates. Under the pretext of 
 having lost so much time by his late ill- 
 ness, and the necessity of reading harder 
 than ever, he kept entirely in his own
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 17 
 
 rooms. His gay friends frequently rallied 
 liini on the change which had taken place 
 in him, and even ventured on jokes and 
 sarcasms directed against his " spiiitual 
 adviser," as they styled Xeville. But 
 Eustace took no notice of these inuendos, 
 nor of their pretended apologies for break- 
 ing through the hounds of due gravity, 
 and offending his serious ears with their 
 levity, when carried away by the thought- 
 less gaiety of youth, they broke forth into 
 those shouts of hilarity, in which the joy- 
 ous laugh of Eustace Grrey used to be 
 heard even above the rest. 
 
 It was not that Eustace icouldnoi, but 
 that he could not now join in their exube- 
 rance of spirits. He longed to be happy 
 as in former days ; he longed again to feel 
 thus hght-hearted, but he could not. Con- 
 science had been awakened within him ; 
 he was aware how grievously he had 
 sinned, even more than his friend Xeville 
 was in the least aware of. His mind was 
 also ill at ease with res^ard to that kind 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 friend. He was sensible of the estrange- 
 ment wliich had taken place between them 
 since their last conversation relative to his 
 futm-e prospects, and he was forced to 
 acknowledge to himself that he was the 
 one in fault. And yet, earnestly as he 
 desired to return to their former intimate 
 confidential intercourse, he knew not how 
 to bring that about. It is so difiicult to 
 break down those barriers which pride 
 builds up between ourselves and even our 
 best-loved friends, in a moment of irrita- 
 tion and wounded feelings. Eustace could 
 not but acknowledge that Neville was 
 right in all that he had said, that even 
 common sense, independent of higher prin- 
 ciples, bade him attend to his friend's 
 advice ; but he also felt he could not, that 
 he had not sufficient courage to act upon 
 it, and to give up all those dreams of 
 earthly felicity in which he had so long 
 indulged. And thus, self-condemned and 
 unhappy in every way, he became more 
 and more taciturn and abstracted.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 19 
 
 It was Neville who at last, no longer 
 able to endure the distant and altered 
 footing upon which he and his young 
 friend now were, resolved on seeking liini 
 in his own rooms, determined on bringing 
 him to some explanation. 
 
 On opening the door, he saw that 
 Eustace was deeply engaged, not with one 
 of his Latin fohos, but with a letter which 
 he held in his hand ; which, however, 
 from its crumpled appearance, had evi- 
 dently been read many a time before, and 
 which, on Neville's entrance, was hastily 
 crushed into the writing-desk on the table 
 before him. NeviUe went straight up to 
 him. " Grrey," said he, with his wonted 
 open kindliness of manner, " you are not 
 well, I am sure ; you have dismissed the 
 doctor too soon, and you are not happy. 
 Do not let what passed between us lately 
 keep us estranged from each other. I 
 may have spoken too sternly to you; I 
 may have administered stronger moral 
 medicine than you were then able to bear ; 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 but do not dismiss your physician because 
 at first, not being quite aware of the very 
 serious nature of your complaint, lie, in 
 his ignorance, prescribed a wrong, that is, 
 too severe a treatment. Let us be friends 
 again," continued Neville, as he held out 
 his hand to Eustace ; " try me again, and 
 see whether, now that I am better ac- 
 quainted with your case, I cannot pre- 
 scribe for it better." 
 
 For a moment Eustace stood as if ir- 
 resolute what to do, but, after an apparent 
 struggle with himself, he grasped his 
 friend's hand between both of his, stammer- 
 ing out, " Oh, how little do I deserve this 
 kindness ! can you forgive my late odious 
 conduct ? will you let me again look to 
 you as my Father Confessor ? Scold me, 
 preach to me as you will, I will bear all ! 
 I so need a confessor, an adviser, for 
 indeed I am not happy ! I know not 
 what to do, and I fear even you can't 
 advise me ; no one can." 
 
 As he spoke these last words, Eustace
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 21 
 
 ha-stilj turned towards the writing-desk, 
 and took from it the letter which he was 
 reading when Xeville broke in so un- 
 expectedly upon his soHtude. " Tliere, 
 read this/' he said, as he held the letter 
 towards Xeville (blushing crimson as he 
 spoke). " It is from her. You will see 
 what she says T\dth regard to my vocation, 
 and I know well what you will say, that 
 she is not a ' child of Grod,' that I must give 
 lier up, or give up my duty to Grod ; but I 
 cannot, I cannot give her up ; do not tell me 
 that is required of me ; do not ask such a 
 sacrifice. I would sooner, I fear, give up 
 my intended profession (which, indeed, I 
 am now aware I am not fit for), and look 
 to one of less importance, less responsi- 
 bihty ; but then," (as if speaking to him- 
 self) " what should I have to ofier her ? 
 Xothing ! Why did you open my eyes 
 to the truth ? I was happy ia the igno- 
 rance of my duty. I know that you will 
 tell me to pray that I may be guided 
 aright, and I desu'e to do so ; but I dare
 
 22 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 not ; I dread conscience bidding me act as 
 I feel I cannot. All this is so new to me, 
 I so little ever thought on the subject, I 
 never at least viewed it in the Kght in 
 wliich I do now. I only thought of my 
 possible happiness in being, perhaps, some 
 day united for life to one I so dearly love, 
 whom I have so long loved, one so much 
 to be loved, so amiable, so engaging, 
 so — 
 
 Here poor Eustace stopped ; for he felt 
 that the enumeration of the attractions 
 which this object of his adoration had for 
 himself would weigh very little in her 
 favour with his friend. He actually 
 trembled with agitation. 
 
 " Compose yourself," said Neville, 
 kindly. " Let us talk quietly. What is 
 it that has so agitated, so distressed you 
 in this letter ?" 
 
 " It is — because — there, you had better 
 read it yourself,*' said Eustace, as, with 
 a sudden effort and an unsteady hand, he 
 held out the letter to Neville. " I am
 
 THE OLD GREr CHURCH. 23 
 
 sure I cannot give a stronger proof of my 
 confidence, for I know well beforehand " 
 (he continued in a hurried, excited man- 
 ner) " that you will condemn it. I know 
 you will say that the writer cannot be a 
 fit helpmate to one about to undertake 
 such important duties as I am. Kot only 
 to renounce the pomps and vanities, but 
 even, according to your opinion, the com- 
 mon innocent interests of this life, and 
 devote himself entirely to his sacred 
 duties." 
 
 Neville, without making any comment 
 on these words, which were spoken with 
 some asperity of tone and manner, was 
 quietly unfolding the letter, when Eustace 
 again seized upon it, and, passing his 
 pencil hurriedly backwards and forwards 
 over the signature, until it was no longer 
 legible, he, with apparently a desperate 
 resolution, again returned it to his friend, 
 \\ithout uttering a word, and, sinking 
 back in his chair, covered his face with 
 his hands. The letter was as follows : —
 
 24 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 '' Rome, Feb. 4, 1828. 
 " My dear Eustace, — I must not lose 
 this post to tell you how very glad I was 
 to hear a better account of you — that is 
 to say, of your health ; for I own I am 
 not equally satisfied with the state of your 
 spirits ; nor, indeed, do I quite understand 
 many things you say in your last letter. 
 For instance : ' that you have not viewed 
 the profession you are about to enter in a 
 sufficiently serious light (by the way, I 
 hate that Methodistical cant word serious). 
 Now, I really cannot see that any such 
 very peculiar solemnity in manner, hfe, and 
 conversation is required of a clergyman, 
 and I am sure I hope not ; for if you 
 take up that line, you will not be half 
 so agreeable a companion as you have 
 hitherto been in your lay state. I think 
 it is a great pity you should consider the 
 profession in so melancholy a point of view. 
 I have not the smallest fear but that you 
 will discharge the ' important duties ' you 
 talk of just as well as your neighbours —
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 25 
 
 indeed, much better than most ; for, 
 though it may be wrong to make you 
 conceited, you must know that you have a 
 decided talent for writing and composi- 
 tion. I have heard papa often say, that 
 no one can write better letters, and ex- 
 press themselves more clearly, than you 
 do ; therefore 3^ou need not take fright at 
 the composition of your two sermons 
 a-week (if that is what alarms you). So it 
 really is all nonsense about your ' unworthi- 
 ness' The real truth, I suspect, is that 
 you have got into had company at Ox- 
 ford (I mean into the over -good line), and 
 that the friend you talk of has been 
 putting all sorts of Methodistical notions 
 into your head, and friglitening you. 
 Pray, dear Eustace, don't take to those 
 Evangelical opinions (as I believe they are 
 called, for to own the truth, I really do 
 not exactly understand what the word 
 means), but whatever is new and over good 
 you know papa has a perfect horror of; 
 and I fear such notions are very much
 
 26 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 the fashion just now among a certain set 
 at Oxford. But I will not lecture you 
 any more, as I am quite sure it is merely 
 your illness which, by lowering and weak- 
 ening you, has affected your spirits ; so 
 my advice is, that you amuse yourself 
 in every possible way, get out of your 
 invalid habits, and speedily return to 
 your pleasant college companions. 
 
 " I told you in my last that papa had 
 been obliged to return home very unex- 
 pectedly about some of his odious, eternal 
 * business,' Imt we expect him back before 
 very long. How pleasant it would be, if 
 after your awful examination is over, you 
 could take a run here with him, before 
 you become too good for us ! — for I fear 
 you will think we lead a sad, dissipated 
 life here ; but it is impossible to help it, 
 there is so much to see and to do, the 
 rehgious ceremonies are all so amusing 
 (perhaps I had better say interesting); 
 then the pictures, and statues, and beauti- 
 ful church-music, all so charming ! and
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 27 
 
 besides, there is such agreeable society, 
 dinners nearly every day, and such pleas- 
 ant parties on horseback to see the neigh- 
 bouring ruins, churches, aqueducts, and I 
 don't know what all (very unHke our 
 rides on the two old ponies at Elsmere) ; 
 in short, we are never at rest. I am sure 
 if we had you here, we should soon make 
 you as wicked as ourselves, and get uj) 
 your spirits to their usual pitch ! 
 
 " Frederick is in Ireland with his regi- 
 ment, flirting away with all the fascinating 
 Irish beauties, and in love with half a 
 dozen at a time apparently. I have, by- 
 the-by, one very interesting piece of news 
 to teU you, which I have kept for the 
 bonne houclie (if you have not heard it 
 already), that Mr. Woodford is so mor- 
 tally ofiended and disgusted by all papa's 
 rebufis and refusals to be made better by 
 him, that he has announced the possibility, 
 indeed almost the prohability, of his giving 
 up his living at Elsmere next summer, 
 having, I understand, the prospect of
 
 28 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 another, where, I presume, his apostolic 
 merits are likely to be more appreciated. 
 So it seems as if Elsmere would be ready 
 for you by the time you are ready for it, 
 by being duly inaugurated. This is very 
 agreeable news for us all, for really Mr. 
 Woodford was so disagreeable with his 
 excessive troublesome piety, it was enough 
 to sicken one of religion ; and if he had 
 continued at Elsmere, I really beheve 
 papa would have given up going to 
 church altogether. IN'ow mind, Eustace, 
 and don't grow too good, for that is what 
 I own I am rather afraid of for you. 
 " Your affectionate Cousin, 
 
 [Signatm-e effaced]." 
 
 Neville read this letter more than once, 
 and then folding it up in the same com- 
 posed, thoughtful manner in which he had 
 opened it, he returned it to Eustace, who 
 immediately replaced it in his writing- 
 desk, and with such vehemence (betraying 
 the irritated state of liis feehngs) that
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 29 
 
 the spring, as it shut, actually resounded 
 through the apartment. 
 
 For a few seconds neither spoke ; but at 
 length Eustace, unable apparently to bear 
 the suspense any longer, eagerly said, 
 " Well ! is she ? — is she ?" — " She is veri/ 
 young — veri/ ignorant — very thoughtless," 
 rephed Neville, in his gravest tone and 
 manner. 
 
 '' And you condemn her unseen, un- 
 heard !" exclaimed Eustace, the colour 
 rising in his face as he spoke ; " and I 
 suppose I am to think of her no more !" 
 
 " I do not say that" replied Neville ; 
 " I repeat it, she is evidently ve?y thought- 
 less, very ignorant, but, as I have said, 
 she is also ve?y young: her responsi- 
 bility, as an immortal being, has evidently 
 never been put before her, and she is con- 
 sequently perfectly ignorant of her duties, 
 and of yours also ; it will be your part to 
 instruct her with regard to both, and 
 much therefore will now depend upon 
 yourself. If her affection for you is
 
 30 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 stronger than it is for the world, perhaps 
 you may, witli God's blessing, find in her 
 the help meet for you ; if not, I need not 
 tell you what your decision must be if you 
 would be a true servant of the Master 
 into whose service you are about to enter 
 — for you know we are decidedly told we 
 ' cannot serve two masters,' as we ' shall 
 cleave to the one, and despise the other.' " 
 
 A bright glow for a moment illumined 
 Eustace's countenance. " You then still 
 allow me to love and hope ! I have your 
 2yer mission at least to hope the best !" he 
 eagerly exclaimed. 
 
 " It is not 7)17/ jiermissioii you must seek, 
 Grey, but that of your own conscience. 
 You surely know your dutj^, you must 
 pray for strength to act up to it." 
 
 There was for some time a dead silence, 
 during which Eustace's agitation seemed 
 every moment to increase, until (making 
 apparently a great effort) he suddenly said, 
 " I have not confessed all I" and he added, 
 in a voice scarcely audible, '' Our engage-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 31 
 
 ment is not known — her parents are not 
 aware !" Xeville actually started. 
 
 " Am I then to understand," he said, 
 with his sternest look and manner, " that 
 there is a clandestine engagement? that 
 you have taken advantage of the ignorance 
 and inexperience of this poor, thoughtless 
 young creature, to draw her into a forbid- 
 den connection ? Oh, Grey ! how you have 
 surprised and disappointed me ! how little 
 should I have suspected you of such un- 
 principled conduct ! And can you really 
 think, besides, that any one who starts in 
 life, thus acting in direct opposition to her 
 duty as a daughter, as a Christian, can be 
 a fit partner for him who is to teach 
 to others their duty in every relation of 
 hfe?" * 
 
 " Say nothing against her !" exclaimed 
 Eustace, with much warmth ; " that I can- 
 not — will not bear ! She is goodness, in- 
 nocence, truth itself; if any one is to 
 blame, it is myself. But we are cousins ; 
 we have loved each other from our very
 
 32 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 cliildhood — circumstances have so thrown 
 US together." 
 
 " That is no excuse for such derehction 
 of duty ; on the contrary, you have proba- 
 bly been guilty of a breach of trust, of 
 confidence, " rejoined Neville sternly ; 
 " you own to a clandestine engagement — 
 that must not continue ; you must not 
 enter the sacred ministry with falsehood 
 in your heart." 
 
 " Falsehood !" repeated Eustace, hastily 
 rising from his seat, and anger flashing 
 from his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I repeat it, falsehood, deceit ! if 
 there is not something wrong in this en- 
 gagement, why is it secret ? But we had 
 better not talk any more on the subject 
 at present, you are too much excited, and 
 I will not quarrel with you, Grey ! When 
 w^e are both more calm we mil, if you Hke, 
 resume it ; but remember, as your friend 
 (if you will let me still be that to you) I can 
 but speak the truth, show you your duty ; 
 you will follow it or not as you see fit."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 33 
 
 Neville stopped a moment at the door 
 of the room, and then looking back, he 
 added with much solemnity, " Eepent, 
 therefore, of this thy wickedness, and pray 
 Grod, if perchance the thought of thine 
 heart may be forgiven thee," and with 
 these words he left the apartment. 
 
 VOL I.
 
 34 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Eustace Grey was the only child of a 
 gentleman of most unobjectionable birth 
 and connections ; the possessor of large 
 property in the West Indies, and engaged 
 in extensive mercantile concerns at home ; 
 and by his own character (for probity, 
 diligence, and ability), he stood so high, 
 that while yet very young he had it in 
 his power to be of the greatest use to a 
 former schoolfellow and friend of the name 
 of Lushington, also beginning life in the 
 banking-house of Messrs. Lushington, 
 Bradford, Strickland and Co., Fenchurch- 
 street ; at one time even assisting him to 
 a considerable amount when he (Lushing- 
 ton) had got into pecuniary difficulties, 
 and when such assistance was of the
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 35 
 
 greatest importance to his character and 
 credit ; in consequence of which the 
 strictest friendship existed hetween these 
 two young men, which in course of time 
 was still more closely cemented by Grrey 
 marrying the only sister of his friend 
 Lushington ; of which marriage our young 
 Oxonian Eustace was the sole issue. 
 Thanks, very much, therefore, to the 
 kind offices of his friend Grrey, and to 
 that mysterious cause which we call luch — 
 wliich seems sometimes in so extraordinary 
 a manner to favour the eartlily career of 
 some individuals, and as uniformly to 
 overcloud that of others — "Lushington, 
 from his first starting in life, prospered 
 in his business even to an unprecedented 
 degree, having (from beginning as a mere 
 clerk in his grandfather's time) risen to 
 be a partner in the house, and finally, on 
 the death of his father, succeeded to his 
 position as head of the firm ; while his 
 brother-in-law, in consequence of a series 
 of misfortunes and failures, over which he
 
 36 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 had no control, and the total ruin of his 
 West Indian property, sank as rapidly 
 in this world's prosperity, nntil, at length, 
 a paral}4;ic stroke (the consequence of 
 anxiety of mind, and while still compara- 
 tively a young man) completed his mis- 
 fortunes, and during the few remaining 
 years of his Hfe, ]\Ir. Grey continued to he 
 a helpless invalid, and at length died, 
 leaving his widow and son (still a mere 
 child) to the kindness — indeed, as it 
 proved, to the charity — of his hrother- 
 in-law. For on the arrangement of his 
 affairs (which duty of course devolved on 
 Mr. Lushington), there was found to be, 
 after paying all unavoidable claims, little 
 or nothing for the maintenance of his 
 family. This was no agreeable discovery 
 to one on whom the wddow and orphan 
 were apparently ^ow thrown, and with 
 whom money had become the " one thing 
 needful ;" but as yet that dreadful de- 
 votion to Mammon had not swallowed up 
 all other and better feelings in Mr. Lush-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 37 
 
 ington's breast. A good name is also of 
 use even in this our bad world ; so ]\Ir. 
 Lushington made up bis mind to be a 
 pattern brother and uncle (according, at 
 least, to his otvtl ideas on the subject), as 
 indeed he could well afford to be in a 
 pecuniary point of view; for besides the 
 flourishing state of the bank (in which he 
 was now a partner), unlooked-for riches 
 had poured in upon him. An uncle of 
 the name of Elsmere, who early in life had 
 gone to India, and of whom ]\Ir. Lush- 
 ington had quite lost sight, died abroad, 
 and in conformity with the invariable 
 practice of adding wealth to wealth, he 
 left him an enormous sum of money, 
 under the condition that a certain portion 
 of it should be laid out in the purchase of 
 a specified estate in Hertfordshire ; and as, 
 on making inquiries, Mr. Lushington 
 found that very property to be then in 
 the market, Mr. Elsmere had probably 
 been informed of the likelihood of the 
 circumstance just before his death (as
 
 38 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 that part of Ids will was in the form of a 
 codicil, and dated not above a week before 
 lie died). Wliat Mr. Elsmere's object 
 was in this arrangement did not appear, 
 but as the estate bore the same name as 
 himself, it seemed probable it had formerly 
 been in his family, and parted with at 
 some time of pecuniary difficulty. Els- 
 mere Manor was accordingly now re- 
 purchased, and became the property of 
 Mr. Lushington, as well as the right of 
 presentation to a hving belonging to it, 
 valued at about 600Z. a-year. 
 
 In addition to this magnificent bequest 
 to his nephew, Mr. Elsmere left 3,000/. 
 to liis niece, Lucy Lusliington, now jMrs. 
 Grrey, should she be still H^dng. 
 
 This legacy was duly paid, and the 
 amount was, by her desire, placed in the 
 funds for the benefit of little Eustace 
 when he should come of age ; Mr. Lush- 
 ington, in the mean time, taking chai'ge 
 of his education. More than that, and an 
 allowance of 200/. a-year to his sister, he
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 39 
 
 did not propose doing, for lie had now 
 been married himself for several years, 
 and was the father of two sons and a 
 daughter, and he seemed to think that 
 offering an asylum to his widowed sister 
 under his own roof, would be quite a 
 work of supererogation on his part. How 
 strange it is that many who are mag- 
 nificently liberal to public charities should 
 so often act so differently towards their 
 nearest relations ! Possibly the reason is, 
 that it would be a bad precedent to es- 
 tablish, as such objects of charity " we 
 alicays Jiave with us;" yet are we not 
 told " to provide for our oivn and especially 
 for those of our own houseV 
 
 But Mr. Lushington overlooked, or 
 possibly had never read that text; and 
 as Mrs. Grey's very limited income did 
 not admit of her having a home of her 
 own, she thankfully accepted of the offer 
 of an invalid relation of her husband's, 
 who lived in Devonshire, to reside with 
 her, and taking^ a most sorrowful leave of
 
 40 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 little Eustace, she repaired to Torquay. 
 Sad was the parting to the poor boy 
 also, he never before having been sepa- 
 rated from his mother ; sad was his com- 
 mencement of school Hfe, and sad were 
 even his first hohdays at Elsmere Manor. 
 For liis two cousins, Frederick and Charles 
 — disagreeable, rough-mannered boys, and 
 some years older than himself — took no 
 notice of him, except to bully and pro- 
 voke him. However even this, their dis- 
 agreeable, natural disposition (made worse 
 by bad education), proved an advantage 
 to Eustace Grey, as it gave him an oc- 
 cupation, and consequently an interest in 
 his life at Elsmere Manor ; for they also 
 bulhed and teased their sister Lucy, al- 
 though it might have been expected that, 
 as an only sister, and by several years 
 their junior, she would, on the contrary, 
 have been to them an object of peculiar 
 care and tenderness. It was thus that 
 Lucy Lushington and Eustace Grey had 
 been (as he said), from their verv child-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 41 
 
 hood, in an especial manner thrown to- 
 gether; for being by nature of a gene- 
 rous, chivah'ous disposition, he at once 
 became his little cousin's established 
 champion, defending her from the con- 
 stant teasing tyranny of her brothers, 
 and the sure friend to whom, on all occa- 
 sions, she could apply for sympathy and 
 kindness. 
 
 Time flew on — and Frederick and 
 Charles Lushington had reached that 
 age when their future destination in hfe 
 had to be chosen, and their consequent 
 respective lines of study fixed upon. 
 
 Mr. Lushington had always in his own 
 mind settled that his eldest son should 
 follow his own vocation, and in course of 
 time succeed him in the banking-house; 
 and although never hitherto naming his 
 intentions to the object of them, he had 
 ever kept that destination for him in view 
 in Frederick's course of education. But 
 when Mr. Lushington at length made 
 known his intentions to his son, he, to his
 
 42 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 utter astonishment, met witli the most 
 decided and violent opposition ; for having 
 always enjoyed the advantages of wealth, 
 without any trouble on his part, and 
 having already a decided taste for the^n^ 
 world and doing nothing (the lafcter being 
 indeed the only object in life for which he 
 had as yet shown any ambition), Frederick 
 would not listen to his father's plans, and 
 remained obstinately fixed in his determi- 
 nation (long formed, apparently) of being 
 a fine gentleman, and an idle man of the 
 world. In other words, of wearing some 
 becoming mihtary dress, and making his 
 way into the Gruards and fashionable so- 
 ciety of London. 
 
 This decided opposition to his wishes 
 was a bitter disappointment to Mr. Lush- 
 ington. His mind had now for so long 
 been so entirely engrossed by money spe- 
 culations, he had grown to think the ac- 
 cumulation of wealth to be the one thing 
 needful ; and thoroughly despising the fine 
 world of London as much as his son wor-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 43 
 
 shipped it, he could in no way enter into 
 the glories of fashionable idleness. 
 
 Frederick's refusal to follow his own 
 footsteps in life had also come upon him 
 most unexpectedly ; he had never even 
 thought of the possibility of being thus 
 thwarted in his views by his own cliildren. 
 He had, as we see, been so far occupied 
 about them, as to make plans for their 
 future career in this world; but he had 
 never in the meantime sought their con- 
 fidence, or been at the trouble to be ac- 
 quainted with their characters, and, in 
 consequence, he had no power whatever 
 over their minds or dispositions ; and self- 
 willed as Mr. Lushington was in many 
 ways himself, Frederick was still more so. 
 After many disagreeable and indeed im- 
 proper altercations between the father and 
 son, the former found it necessary to give 
 way, and a commission in the 7th Hussars 
 was finally purchased for Frederick. 
 
 Mr. Lushington was by birth, educa- 
 tion, and manners quite what is termed a
 
 44 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 gentleman ; but the horrid trade in which 
 he was engaged — that of money-making — 
 had by degrees hardened and even vulgar- 
 ized both his mind and feelings, and in 
 consequence he had no idea of that species 
 of ambition which aims at benefiting our 
 fellow-creatures, at usefulness in our gene- 
 ration, at serving our country ! His own 
 object in hfe having been entirely con- 
 fined to mere money speculations, he had, 
 of course, never inspired his sons ^^ith any 
 more Hberal feelings, or more elevated 
 principles of action ; and in consequence 
 they, too, thought only of self-interest in 
 their future careers, although differing in 
 their objects according to the natural bias 
 of their characters. 
 
 AVlien Mr. Lushington was thus dis- 
 appointed in his long-cherished schemes 
 for his eldest son, he turned to the second, 
 Charles, hoping to succeed better with 
 liim, and thinking he would gladly give 
 up the Chm'ch (sure as he thought he was 
 of preferment in it) for the much more ad-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 45 
 
 vantageous prospects which the banking- 
 house offered. But in this ag^ain Mr. 
 Lushington was disappointed, — meeting 
 with the same decided opposition to his 
 wishes from Charles as he had from 
 Frederick, although from totally different 
 views and motives. 
 
 Charles cared as little for the fine world 
 of fashion as his father did, but he cared 
 excessively for his own ease, and for having 
 his own way ; and being of a sedentary 
 studious turn, he remained fixed in his 
 preference for the ministry, looking to 
 the probability of obtaining the Hving 
 of Elsmere by the time he was fitted to 
 hold it ; for the present incumbent had 
 every prospect of better preferment, being 
 of the party in the church which at that 
 period was beginning to attract attention, 
 and seemed likely to have the prepon- 
 derance. Charles, therefore, at once re- 
 jected his father's proposal respecting the 
 banking-house, and requested he might 
 immediately commence liis studies at Ox- 
 ford in preparation for taking orders.
 
 46 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 It is to be feared lie was influenced in 
 this his decision, less by that Divine Spirit 
 which, when it actuates the true servant 
 of God, renders the vocation of a clergy- 
 man the most exalted of any upon earth, 
 than by mere self-indulgence. For he 
 mistook, or rather had never realized in 
 his mind, or turned his thoughts to the 
 many duties and responsibilities of the 
 ministry ; duties which, if duly discharged, 
 makes the life of a parish priest certainly 
 anything but one of indolence and idle- 
 ness. It was long before Mr. Lushington 
 could become reconciled to the decision of 
 his two sons respecting their future pro- 
 fessions, and the disappointment which 
 their refusal to comply with his wishes 
 occasioned, soured his temper and in- 
 creased the natural cold reserve of his 
 character ; but, strange to say, it did not 
 turn his mind towards any higher objects 
 of ambition. He still worshipped his 
 golden divinity with the same indefati- 
 gable devotion, and continued to labour 
 early and late with the hope of adding to
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 47 
 
 his "Worldly store, although with appa- 
 rently no better prospect now before him 
 than of its being squandered in folly by 
 his careless, idle heir. 
 
 We must now turn to the two other 
 individuals composing Mr. Lushington s 
 family — his daughter Lucy and Eustace 
 Grey. 
 
 The latter, although some years younger 
 than his cousins, was also now no longer 
 a boy, and had been for some time placed 
 by his uncle (without any choice on the 
 subject being given him) in one of the 
 hard-working lower departments of his 
 banking-house ; Mr. Lushington thinking 
 he had fully discharged his duty to his 
 deceased friend and widowed sister, in 
 thus putting it in the power of their son, 
 by industry and application, and by " eat- 
 ing early and late the bread of careful- 
 ness," to work his own way in the world, 
 as he had done before him. 
 
 It was not an existence at all congenial 
 with the character and turn of mind of
 
 48 THE OLD GREY CHURCH.* 
 
 Eustace Grey ; but of such considerations 
 Mr. Lusliington took no cognizance ; and 
 how much Eustace liked or dishked his 
 vocation his uncle neither inquired nor 
 cared. Nor did he apparently care either 
 that during those years that Eustace had 
 been at Elsmere Manor, both while a 
 schoolboy and since, during his occasional 
 relaxations from irksome toil at his desk, 
 a degree of affection had been formed be- 
 tween him and his cousin, which, if not 
 actually what is called love, was some- 
 thing very near akin to it, at least on his 
 side. Each time they met their meeting 
 was the more agreeable to them ; each 
 time they parted, the parting the more 
 painful. And each time also that poor 
 Eustace returned to his hated drudgery in 
 his dismal, dark back room at the bank- 
 ing-house, the more he abhorred liis em- 
 ployment, and the more he lamented 
 over his dependent situation, and his 
 separation from his cousin and playfellow, 
 Lucy.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 49 
 
 This, liis cousin, had in the mean time 
 been receiving such an education as girls 
 receive who are left to the care and 
 management of a mother of very moderate 
 understanding, and very z7?zmoderate love 
 of this world, and whose mind had in no 
 way been raised by religious principle. 
 When Mrs. Lushington had secured a 
 governess for her daughter who could 
 speak French, ItaHan, and German hke 
 any foreigner (and had finished Lady 
 Somebody's daughter), and when she had 
 succeeded in securing for her two hours 
 a-week tuition from the same masters 
 that gave lessons in drawing, music, and 
 dancing to Lady Something else's chil- 
 dren, she thought that she had done all 
 that was necessary for poor Lucy's well- 
 doing in this world and the next ! Lucy 
 was, of com'se, taken regularly to church 
 on a Sunday morning in her best bonnet 
 and cloak (for so was Lady Somebody's 
 daughter, as Ma'amselle said). She also 
 learnt her catechism and the collects by 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 heart, and occasionally read a good book 
 on a wet Sunday afternoon, when she 
 could not get out ; and, in short, was 
 supposed to be as good a Christian as her 
 neighbours ; and (alas !) perhaps so she 
 was ! at least as good as many ; for it 
 must be remembered that Lucy's educa- 
 tion had been carried on full thirty years 
 before our time, and religion was not then 
 as much the fashion (if we may so speak), 
 nor education as much thought of as it is 
 now. 
 
 And this poor ignorant, superficial being 
 was she of whom Neville had inquired, 
 whether she was " a child of God !" 
 
 No wonder Eustace had not the face to 
 say more than, " he hoped so !" 
 
 Nature, however, had done more for 
 Lucy Lushington than education, so far 
 at least as bestowing upon her an amiable, 
 gentle, loving disposition. But Nature, 
 even at its very best, without principle, is 
 but a weak, uncertain thing to trust to, 
 and will not alone stand the wear and
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 51 
 
 tear of life, with all its many trials and 
 temptations. 
 
 Sucli was the state of things at Elsmere 
 Manor, when Mr. Lnshington was sud- 
 denly summoned to Oxford, in consequence 
 of the alarming illness of his son Charles. 
 And this illness hefore long proved fatal ! 
 It was mercifully overruled to the poor 
 young man for good. He expressed the 
 deepest contrition for many an offence of 
 his past life; for his culpable selfishness 
 in not having sufficiently considered his 
 father's wishes with resrard to his choice 
 of a profession, as well as in many an act 
 of insubordination in his boyhood. But 
 what seemed to weis^h the heaviest on his 
 conscience, among his offences towards his 
 fellow-creatures, was his want of kindness 
 to his cousin Eustace (his jealousy, in 
 short, of his superior talents). 
 
 " I cannot now make him any repara- 
 tion," said he, sorrowfull}'. " But tell him 
 I hope for his forgiveness ; but indeed I 
 feel sure of it ; for his is a generous, noble 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UN/VERSmr OF ILUNOIS
 
 52 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 nature ! And there is one good deed I 
 still can (thank Grod !) perform for him. 
 I can make you aware of what his grati- 
 .tude to you for all you have done for him 
 will never allow liim to confess himself. 
 I can tell you that he detests the line of 
 life in which he is placed." 
 
 Mr. Lushington actually started, and 
 his brow contracted with an expression of 
 mingled surprise and anger. His son 
 observed the expression, and seizing hold 
 of his hand, " I am sorry to pain you in 
 any way, dear father, but I have no time 
 now to lose. I feel I must be quick ; and 
 I must make all the reparation in my 
 power to poor Eustace. I repeat it, he 
 abhors his present existence ; and he is 
 really too good for it." 
 
 Again Mr. Lushington's countenance be- 
 trayed his irritated feehngs. '' Too good?" 
 he repeated, '' in what way ? What do 
 you mean ?" 
 
 '' I mean that he is above it ; that he has 
 too superior a mind for such drudgery."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 53 
 
 ]Mr. Lusliington was again about to 
 reply, but his words were checked b}' 
 observing the ghastly hue which had over- 
 spread the young man's face. 
 
 And after a pause Charles continued, 
 altliough evidently painfully struggling 
 with increasing^ breathlessness. " Make 
 over to Eustace what your kindness had 
 intended for me ; that living to which I 
 was destined, and which will now be 
 vacated — at all erents of no use to your 
 
 " I can dispose of it," hastily inter- 
 rupted Mr. Lushington ; and then, as if 
 ashamed even of his own thoughts, at all 
 events of having given vent to them, he 
 stopped short. 
 
 And Charles, not having apparently 
 heard these words of his father, continued. 
 " Eustace is much better fitted for that 
 line of life than I am — than I ever should 
 have been, I mean. His talents, his ami- 
 able, gentle disposition ; his high prm- 
 ciples of honour — of duty — ." Charles 
 stopped ; he sank back on his pillow : but
 
 54 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 still he held his father's hand ; still he for 
 some minutes looked wistfully with his 
 glazing eyes in his father's face. 
 
 " Well, I wiU think about it ah," said 
 Mr. Lushington. " But there is time ; 
 you will perhaps recover, and " 
 
 These words of his father were scarcely 
 uttered before Charles heaved a deep sigh, 
 — all was over ! — and Mr. Lusliington 
 gazed aghast on a lifeless corpse ! 
 
 This blow, severe as it was on both 
 parents, fell heaviest on the father. To 
 him it was not only the loss of a child, 
 but a second time the total overthrow of 
 all his worldly hopes and ^^rojects. Per- 
 haps (at the moment) the bitterest sorrow 
 which Mr. Lushington had ever expe- 
 rienced, was that which his eldest son in- 
 flicted upon him, when he at once destroyed 
 all his schemes, by refusing to follow his 
 own career in life; but the pain of that 
 disappointment had now, in some degree, 
 subsided, and he had fixed his future 
 hopes on Charles, at least on his children.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 55 
 
 — Charles had always been his favourite 
 son, from his more quiet, steadier and less 
 frivolous disposition than that of Frederick ; 
 and although that very indolence had led 
 him, contrary to Mr. Lushington's wishes, 
 to adhere to the Church for his profession, 
 still he was entirely free from the fashion- 
 able folly and extravagance which so dis- 
 gusted Mr. Lushington in his eldest son. 
 Charles might marry, and he still enter- 
 tained the hope that he should live to see 
 Ids name continued in that house, which 
 was the paramount object of his existence, 
 and on which he seemed to think the very 
 salvation of the world depended. But all 
 these plans for the future were now at 
 once destroyed ; and for the moment, the 
 loss of this, his primary object in life, 
 seemed actually to have stunned Mr. 
 Lushington, and benumbed all liis faculties. 
 Yet, strange to say, after a time, this 
 bitter aflfliction, far from weaning him 
 from this world and its interests, appeared 
 only to increase his absorbing devotion to
 
 50 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 it; and what Mr. Liishington's friends 
 had at first commiserated as the grief of a 
 bereaved parent, now apparently changed 
 into entire dedication of soul to the cause 
 of Mammon. His attention to business 
 became more and more engrossing, and 
 his speculations more extensive and 
 hazardous, like the gambler, who doubles 
 his stake, the more desperate and hopeless 
 his game.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 57 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Charles's mortal remains were brought 
 to Elsmere for interment, all ^Ir. Lush- 
 ington's near relations assembling there 
 on the mom-nful occasion, and Eustace 
 Grey of course among them. The church 
 (that church to which poor Charles had 
 been destined, and of which it was decreed 
 he should take possession only in his 
 coffin) was so close to the manor-house, 
 that there was not a sound of its bell 
 which did not vibrate through all its 
 apartments. Many, doubtless, might have 
 felt its solemn sound sadly that day, but 
 to Mr. Lushington they were not only 
 sad, but irritating. The person now offi- 
 ciating in the parish had become especially 
 obnoxious to him, being of that (then new)
 
 58 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 party in the Church holding ultra high 
 notions respecting clerical authority and 
 discipline ; in consequence of which, Mr. 
 Woodford had considered it to be his duty 
 to give his advice, asked or unasked, on 
 all such subjects to Mr. Lushington ; 
 while the latter, retaining the very oppo- 
 site old-fashioned notions, with regard to 
 the footing upon which the squire and 
 the parson of the parish should be, had no 
 idea of submitting to such priestly juris- 
 diction, and set his face most determi- 
 nately against all these " new-fangled 
 innovations," as he called them. 
 
 On the very morning of the funeral 
 (which was to take place in the afternoon, 
 in order to give time for all to assemble) 
 Mr. Woodford had mortally offended Mr. 
 Lushington by proposing (and even with 
 some degree of assumed authority) that the 
 household should be previously collected 
 for prayers and exhortation, in order that 
 he might, in the character of ]\Ir. Lusliing- 
 ton's domestic chaplain, duly prepare their
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 59 
 
 minds for the solemn ceremony which 
 was about to take place ; and in opening 
 the matter to Mr. Lushington, Mr. Wood- 
 ford (hoping thereby to make all easy) 
 had rather injudiciously written to him 
 to say, that he had already mentioned the 
 subject to the baihff, steward, and house- 
 keeper, and that they seemed thankful for 
 the proposal, and were quite sure the ser- 
 vants would all gladly attend the sum- 
 mons. To account for the deg^ree of dis- 
 pleasure with which Mr. Lushington re- 
 ceived this suggestion of Mr. AYoodford's, 
 it must be said, that daily service at 
 church, and family prayers at home, had 
 been constant bones of contention between 
 the master of the house and the parish 
 priest, ever since the former took posses- 
 sion of the property. For wdth more zeal 
 than judgment, Mr. "Woodford was for 
 ever bringing that very unpopular mea- 
 sure forward ; and when the daily prayers 
 in church were rejected, he (as it was con- 
 sidered rather officiously) volunteered his
 
 60 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 services every morning for family devotion 
 at tlie manor-house, the parsonage not 
 being five minutes' walk from thence ; but 
 this proposal also was more than once 
 most decidedly refused. Mr. Woodford, 
 however, was not to be discouraged; he 
 indeed thought it meritorious, and his 
 positive duty even, to run the risk of 
 drawing down displeasure on himself in 
 so good a cause; and thinking this a 
 most favourable opportunity for renewing 
 the attack, when all would naturally be 
 softened by afiliction, he returned to the 
 charge. 
 
 " Troublesome, ofiicious fellow !" mut- 
 tered Mr. Lushington to himself, as he 
 entered the breakfast-room on the morning 
 of the funeral, with a letter in his hand 
 (Mrs. Lushington and a ]\Ir. AYatson, an 
 old friend of the family, being the only 
 persons then assembled). " Troublesome, 
 ofl&cious, impertinent fellow !" he again 
 repeated. " Here he is again at the old 
 story ; but this cannot and shall not go on !"
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 61 
 
 '' Who? What?" inquired Mr. Wat- 
 son. " What's the matter?" 
 
 Mr. Lushington related his grievance. 
 
 " Humph !" said Mr. Watson ; and then, 
 after a moment^ s pause, he added, after 
 having read Mr. Woodford's note, " Well, 
 I am not at all of this new High Church fac- 
 tion ; but, in this case, I rather think Mr. 
 Woodford is in the right. It is a good mo- 
 ment for making an impression, and I be- 
 lieve we all need that, for even the best of 
 us require to be reminded of our latter end, 
 of the awful account we shall be called 
 upon (we know not how soon) to give in. 
 I believe Mr. Woodford is in the right." 
 
 " Surely," said Mrs. Lushington, " we 
 are all of us nervous and dismal enough this 
 morning, without being made more so by 
 all this rehgion ; and I must say, I think 
 it is very unfeeling of Mr. Woodford to 
 take advantage of our distress to begin 
 again upon that tiresome subject. I know 
 this family devotion, as it is called, is quite 
 the fashion just now ; but, for my part, I
 
 6t THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 think it can lead to no good ; on the con- 
 trary, it serves only to set the servants up, 
 by making them think themselves of such 
 vast consequence. Whj can't those who 
 wish to be reho^ious, be so in then- own 
 rooms, as formerly, without making such 
 a fuss about it? At all events," added 
 Mrs. Lushington, " I do not feel equal to 
 anything of the kind this morning. You 
 will settle it as you please, Mr. Lushing- 
 ton ; but / will have nothing to do with 
 it ; and, I repeat it, I think it very un- 
 feeling of Mr. Woodford to think of pro- 
 posing such a thing, when we are all in 
 such affliction. And so saying, Mrs. 
 Lushington, hastily swallowing the con- 
 tents of her breakfast cup, left the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Woodford's proposition was of course 
 again and most peremptorily refused, and 
 it is to be feared neither he nor Mr. Lush- 
 ington Avere exactly in a state of mind that 
 morning, suited to so solemn an occasion 
 and ceremony.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 63 
 
 All the family, except Mrs. Liisliington, 
 attended the funeral, and followed the coffin 
 contakiing Charles' remains to the church. 
 Eustace, (somehow) finding himself at 
 Lucy's side on leaving the house. 
 
 The poor girl was much affected ; she 
 had never been at a funeral before, and the 
 feelings excited by the solemn service, were 
 new and overpowering to her — perhaps it 
 was rather nervous emotion, than actual 
 sorrow for the deceased which caused her 
 to weep so bitterly; for, in truth, her 
 brother, who had never sous^ht to win her 
 afiections, could not possibly be deeply re- 
 gretted by her ; but it is a hard heart wliich 
 is not moved when following the bier of 
 one with whom the first years of life have 
 been spent, and who seemed to make a 
 part of the self-same existence, even al- 
 though in no way adding to its enjoyment. 
 At all events, whatever it was that agitated 
 Lucy, Eustace could not bear to see her 
 tears, and drawing her arm within his, 
 while he tenderly pressed her passive hand.
 
 64 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 "All his sufferings are now over/' he 
 whispered, as he bent down his head, until 
 his cheek touched her black crape veil, — 
 " he is happy now : and think of those 
 beautiful words, 'Blessed are the dead 
 which die in the Lord, for they rest from 
 their labours, and their good works do 
 follow them.' " Poor Eustace quoted 
 these heaven-inspired words in Lucy's ear, 
 wishing to say something to soothe her 
 agitation, although it must be confessed he 
 did not at the moment feel them to be 
 particularly appropriate to the occasion, for 
 had he been asked what had been the 
 " labours" from which poor Charles was to 
 " rest," or the " good works" which were 
 to " follow" him into another world, he 
 could not very well have told. — He did 
 not even then know, that, with his last 
 breath, Charles had performed a ''good 
 work'' towards himself! 
 
 At all events, however, Eustace's inten- 
 tion was good, and it had the desired 
 effect. Lucy returned the pressure of his
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 65 
 
 hand in gratitude for his kindly-intended 
 words of comfort, and was more composed 
 during the remainder of the service. 
 
 All the friends and connections who had 
 attended the funeral, left Elsmere as soon 
 as the ceremony was over, except Mr. 
 Watson and Eustace Grey. The former 
 was an old particular friend of Mr. Lush- 
 ington (although their dispositions were 
 very dissimilar). He Hved chiefly in 
 London, being one of the magistrates of 
 that city. As he and Mr. Lushington, on 
 the morning after the ceremony, paced up 
 and down the terrace-walk below the house, 
 the former suddenly said, '^Wliat a nice 
 young fellow that nephew of yours is ! I 
 remember his mother, when she was much 
 such a young thing as your Lucy there, 
 and he is very Hke her — he is uncommonly 
 pleasing, and there is none of that slang 
 and nonsense about him of the young men 
 now-a-days ! What do you mean to do 
 with him? he seems so inteUigent, he 
 would be fit for anything !" 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " He is acting as a clerk in my banking- 
 house," said Mr. Lushington, e\idently 
 wishing to evade Mr. Watson s query. 
 
 "Does lie like the occupation?" in- 
 quired Mr. Watson, no way discouraged 
 by Mr. Lushington's laconic reply. 
 
 ''"Wliy should he not?" rejoined Mr. 
 Lushington ; and there was a few minutes' 
 pause in the conversation, the two gentle- 
 men continuing to pace side by side on the 
 terrace -walk. 
 
 At last, Mr. Watson, turning to his 
 companion rather abruptly, said, " What 
 will happen about this church now, should 
 Mr. Woodford leave it ? I beheve yom- poor 
 Charles was destined for it, and that you 
 have the right of presentation to it; in 
 short, that it belongs to the property ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Lushington, his colour 
 rising at the mention of Mr. Woodford's 
 name, for it recalled painfully all his irri- 
 tated feelings of the preceding day. " But," 
 he continued, in a minute, as if speaking 
 to himself, "that shall not go on. I
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 67 
 
 cannot submit to be dictated to in that 
 manner in my own home. I will not be 
 priest-ridden ! I must take measures to 
 — of course I can dispose of the living !" 
 
 '' Dispose of it !" repeated Mr. Watson. 
 " What do you mean ? sell it ? surely that 
 would be a great pity! and besides you 
 would only expose yourself to the risk of 
 the same sort of annoyance of which you 
 now complain — if not of worse ; for Mr. 
 Woodford, though perhaps an absurd, ill- 
 judging person, is at any rate a gentlernany 
 and means well, and you might fare worse 
 in his successor ; and the parsonage and 
 chui'ch are such ver}^ near neighbours of 
 yours, it would be dangerous to let the 
 living go out of yom' hands altogether." 
 
 " Ay, that is the great qxH of it. 
 It is hard,'' continued Mr. Lushington^ 
 in an angry tone, " to have everything so 
 turn against me ! every plan I make over- 
 thrown ! This very property is only a 
 source of constant trouble and d'sturbance 
 to me. People in their graves have no 
 
 f2
 
 6S THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 riglit to overrule and influence the existence 
 of those who come after them ! Wliy in 
 the world did my uncle hamper me with 
 this estate at all? The immense sum it 
 cost me might have been of some use, but 
 the place is of none ! on the contrary, it is 
 a constant worry. I have no leisure to 
 attend to its management, and I know 
 nothing of country business. I would 
 part with the whole thing to-morrow, if I 
 could! but that my uncle has contrived 
 to make impossible to me ! I am not even 
 sm-e that I could let it ! And then that 
 church! with its doleful sounding bell!" 
 and Mr. Lushington unconsciously quick- 
 ened liis pace, as if with the hope of getting 
 away from tlie many painful, irritating 
 feelings connected with it. 
 
 " Would Eustace Grey be fitted for the 
 profession ? — for the ministry ?" said Mr. 
 Watson, after a pause of a few minutes, 
 and in a lowered voice, as if almost afraid 
 of his own suggestion. Mr. Lushington 
 was evidently startled by the question, but
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 69 
 
 said nothing, and Mr. Watson continued, 
 " He is so young, he has time to fit him- 
 self for any profession, and he must have 
 learnt habits of application with you. I 
 have had some very serious conversation 
 with him, and have been much pleased 
 with his opinions and sentiments on all 
 subjects upon which we have touched. I 
 should say he was a remarkably right- 
 thinking young man, and I should strongly 
 suspect,"' — (added Mr. Watson, in a lower 
 tone, as if aware he was touching upon 
 dangerous ground), — " I strongly suspect 
 his present life does not suit liim, although 
 I plainly see that his gratitude to you, for 
 all your kindness, makes him unwilling to 
 own it. But the fact is, he is too good for 
 his present situation, he is above it." 
 
 Those had been Charles' own last words, 
 and they e\ddently rang painfully in his 
 father's ears ; he felt as if his departed 
 son's spirit had dictated them, to his friend, 
 and they awed him. He made no answer 
 — in truth he was too much ag^itated to
 
 70 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 utter a word, for lie was aware that had he 
 attempted to speak, he would have burst 
 into tears ; for the death-bed— the ghastly 
 face — the faint, broken, almost unearthly 
 voice in which that last petition in favour 
 of Eustace had been made, all rushed upon 
 his memory, and totally overpowered him. 
 Mr. Watson, not observing the strong 
 emotion which almost convulsed Mr. Lush- 
 ington's stern features, continued as he 
 walked at his side, his eyes fixed on the 
 gravel walk before him : "I believe your 
 brother-in-law, poor Grey, had been very 
 unfortunate, and that he left little or 
 nothing to his widow and child ?" 
 
 " Nothing !" repeated Mr. Lushington ; 
 and he then added, as if with a great effort, 
 recovering his composure, ' ' I have been at 
 the whole expense of my nephew's education, 
 he must now repay me by his services ; he 
 has good abilities, and may, if he chooses, 
 make his own way in the world when I 
 have left it. At present he is of use to me 
 where he is, and in the mean time he is
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 71 
 
 getting an insiglit into business ; and I 
 must say, instead of being discontented, be 
 sbould esteem bimself as most fortunate in 
 having such prospects before him, consi- 
 deiing his penny less situation." 
 
 " I doubt, however," again repeated 
 Mr. Watson^ "the business suiting liim ! 
 I doubt he is happy 1" 
 
 Mr. Lushington made no further reply, 
 and the subject was dropped ! Not, how- 
 ever, that it was entirely so in Mr. Lush- 
 ington's own mind, notwithstanding liis 
 apparent impenetrability ; but one of the 
 pecuharities of his disposition was never 
 to appear to enter into, or even listen to 
 any plan suggested by another, until he 
 had in some way so altered it as to make 
 it appear to be his own. 
 
 Some weeks, therefore, elapsed, and no- 
 thing more was said or done on the sub- 
 ject of the living. 
 
 Mr. Watson's visit was over, poor 
 Eustace was again gone back to his hated 
 drudgery in the City, and Mr. Woodford
 
 72 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 was still officiating as before in the parish; 
 no further collision had, however, taken 
 place between him and Mr. Lushington, 
 their intercourse being now entirely con- 
 fined to a cold, distant bow when they 
 chanced to cross each other's path, which 
 casualty Mr. Lushington took care should 
 occur as seldom as possible, and never on 
 the Sunday ; for he made it a point not 
 to enter the church door until he knew 
 Mr. Woodford to be safe in his reading- 
 desk, and to leave his pew so immediately 
 on the service being ended, that by no 
 possibility could the preacher get down 
 from his pulpit, until the private door 
 through which the family passed from the 
 churchyard into the shrubbery was firmly 
 locked behind them. 
 
 During this period, however, Mr. Lush- 
 ington had not been idle. He again and 
 ag?in read and carefully reconsidered the 
 late Mr. Elsmere's will, with all its pro- 
 visos respecting the property left him, the 
 church, &c. &c.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 73 
 
 This will had been drawn up in India, 
 and apparentl}^ for the express purpose of 
 causing litigation, and benefiting the 
 lawyers, — so confusedly was it expressed, 
 so compHcated in its many '' AVhereas's !" 
 On this more careful examination, however, 
 Mr. Lushington was confu-med in his idea, 
 that under no circumstances whatever was 
 it in his power to dispose of any part of 
 the Elsmere property. 
 
 While thus poring over the document, 
 he was suddenly startled by one of the 
 many provisos which had escaped his 
 attention before (as well as that of all 
 those who had read the will previously), 
 by which it appeared very doubtful 
 whether, on the possible failure of his 
 (Mr. Lushington's) heirs male, Eustace 
 Grrey might not lay claim to Elsmere 
 Manor, in preference to any daughter of 
 Mr. Lushington's. Most thankful was he, 
 that no one was with him when this new 
 light respecting his uncle's destination of 
 his property broke in upon liim, for he felt
 
 74 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 the blood had all rushed to his face, and 
 every vein in his forehead throbbed. He 
 hastily replaced the important paper in its 
 cover and box, endeavouring to quiet his 
 mind by the consideration that the clause 
 was so ambiguously worded, the contin- 
 gence might escape even the most vigilant 
 discoverer of doubts and difficulties (as it 
 had before himself) ; and besides nothing 
 was more urdikely than the case in ques- 
 tion occurrinof. Poor Charles was indeed 
 gone, but he had another son, who he 
 had no doubt would before long marry 
 (either with or without his approbation) 
 some foolish fine lady of quality, and have 
 plenty of silly sons and daughters ! 
 
 *' Poor Charles !" Mr. Lushington ejacu- 
 lated to himself — " Poor Charles! he 
 would have done well in this world I am 
 sure, and I should have liked to have seen 
 his son take my place in the banking- 
 house." 
 
 All these considerations, however, began 
 in some degree to reconcile Mr. Lushington
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 7o 
 
 to the idea of releasing his nephew from 
 his irksome Hfe of plodding business, and 
 proposing to him to take Charles's place at 
 Oxford in preparation for entering the 
 Church. There were also other motives 
 (and which indeed should have been the 
 strongest) which helped to bring him to 
 this determination. 
 
 There were awkward recollections (which 
 at times would force themselves upon his 
 conscience) of the friendly act which years 
 before at a critical moment in his (Mr. 
 Lushington's) life, the father of Eustace 
 had performed even at his own great risk 
 and by which he had saved him from ruin 
 and even from disgrace. 
 
 Tliis humiliating circumstance, as well 
 as the signal favour then conferred upon 
 him by his brother-in-law, were both, Mr. 
 Lushington well knew, safely bmied in 
 that relation's grave ; but when occasion- 
 ally some accidental look, gesture, or tone 
 of voice in the young man recalled his 
 father, that long gone-by, unrequited act
 
 76 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 of generous friendship rushed disagreeably 
 upon Mr. Lushington's memory. He 
 could not help also (although even against 
 his inclination) being strongly drawn to- 
 wards Eustace, albeit no two beings could 
 be of less congenial natures ; but the mys- 
 terious influence exercised upon him by 
 his nephew's frank open character and 
 affectionate disposition was nresistible. 
 
 Then from those words dropped by Mr. 
 Watson on the subject, Mr. Lushington 
 feared least he might possibly be con- 
 demned by his friends in general, if he 
 retained his nephew in so dependent and 
 inferior a situation, considering his birth 
 and connexions. 
 
 And besides all those considerations, 
 there really seemed after all to be no other 
 possible occupation in life, except the 
 Church, to think of for him, which would 
 not entail upon himself still greater trouble 
 and expence, Eustace being in a manner 
 entirely thrown upon his hands, as he had 
 in fact nothing^ of his own, but that 3,000Z.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 77 
 
 bequeathed by Mr. Elsmere to bis mother, 
 and by her settled on him. 
 
 All these reflections, in short, at length 
 brought Mr. Lushington to the resolution 
 of making a virtue of necessity, and obtain- 
 ing a good name for liberality and kind- 
 ness, by releasing his nephew from his 
 present irksome employment, and offering 
 him the reversion of the Elsmere living ; 
 in the hope too that by systematic opposi- 
 tion to all Mr. AVoodford's proposals, that 
 gentleman might be induced to give it up. 
 And in truth perhaps that riddance was 
 the primary cause of Mr. Lushington' s 
 present generous intentions towards his 
 nephew. 
 
 But notwithstanding liis mind was now 
 perfectly made up on the subject, so cold, 
 so reserved, and ungenial was his nature, 
 that, strange to say, Mr. Lushington 
 shrank from the sight of the happiness he 
 knew he was about to bestow, and he put off 
 and ofl" making his intentions known to 
 the object of them, until the Christmas
 
 78 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 after Charles's death, at which season his 
 old friend, Mr. Watson, always paid him 
 an annual visit, and when Eustace also 
 would have a short time of holiday, and 
 be at Elsmere. 
 
 Both came — and a day or two after Mr. 
 Watson's arrival, Mr. Lushington, in his 
 accustomed cold, dry manner, informed 
 him of his having finally decided in favour 
 of his nephew, whenever the hving should 
 be vacated. 
 
 '' Oh, how glad ! how very glad I am 
 to hear that !" exclaimed Mr. Watson, in 
 his usual hearty friendly manner ; " and is 
 not my young friend Eustace very happy 
 — very grateful — for liberation from his 
 desk ?" 
 
 " I have not yet informed him of my 
 decision," was Mr. Lushington's cold re- 
 ply, in his coldest, dry est tone. 
 
 '' Not yet told him !" exclaimed Mr. 
 Watson ; *' why what a strange man you 
 are, my good friend, or else what a strange 
 man / must be, for I am sure I could not
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 79 
 
 have kept the matter a minute to my- 
 self when once I had settled it; and it 
 will not be many before Eustace knows 
 it now, if you authorise me to inform 
 him?" 
 
 " It is my wish you should do so," said 
 Mr. Lushington, still in his accustomed 
 unmoved manner. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the surprise, 
 the rapturous joy, of poor Eustace when 
 informed of his imcle's offer ; his tears 
 spoke his gratitude, for he could not 
 express it in words. He had never, it 
 must be confessed, thought much (that is, 
 seriously) about the sacred profession now 
 thus suddenly proposed to him, nor was 
 he, in truth, at that time, very peculiarly 
 clerically disposed; but he saw in his 
 uncle's offer release from an occupation 
 he actually abhorred. He saw in it free- 
 dom ! independence ! He saw in it, in 
 short, the prospect, the possibility at 
 least, of such happiness! And scarcely 
 waiting to receive his kind informer's
 
 80 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 congratulations, lie flew to the library to 
 pour forth his gratitude to his uncle. For 
 a moment that uncle seemed really moved, 
 though evidently almost frightened at 
 the degree of ecstatic rapture he had occa- 
 sioned; and when Eustace grasped his 
 hand between both his, he actually re- 
 turned the affectionate pressure — a some- 
 what relaxing from his usual frigidity of 
 tone and manner. 
 
 " I am glad," said he, " you like my 
 proposal; but don't be hasty, you need 
 not give me an iaimediate answer : think 
 it all well over, and write and consult your 
 mother before you decide. Eemember 
 you are sacrificing much in giving up the 
 banking-house ; you may, by diligence 
 and steady attention to business, get on, 
 You may — " 
 
 " Oh yes, I will — thank you, dear 
 uncle, for yom- kind advice — oh yes, I 
 will consider ! I will think !" — and w^hile, 
 almost breathless with impatience, he thus 
 promised to imuse^ his hand was on the
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 81 
 
 lock of the door, in order to make his 
 escape the minute it was possible. 
 
 His micle's prudent advice at length 
 came to an end, and Eustace hurried away, 
 like a madman, first to the drawing-room 
 — no one was there : he flew up-stairs ; 
 the door of Lucy's room was open, and 
 there she v:as, and alone ! He rushed 
 in, slammed the door behind him, and, 
 clasping her in his arms, imprinted a long, 
 fervent kiss upon her forehead. 
 
 The deep crimson which immediately 
 overspread it, seemed instantly to recal 
 Eustace to his senses ; and blushing nearly 
 as much as Lucy herself, he let go her 
 hand, and stammering out — '^ I really 
 could not help it, I am so very happy," 
 he threw himself upon a couch at some 
 distance from her. As for Lucy, she had 
 been so startled, and such a variety of 
 sudden emotions had so agitated her, she 
 was now as deadly pale as she had the 
 moment before been the reverse, an ^ was 
 obliged to catch hold of the end of the 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 coucli for support, her head was so 
 giddy. 
 
 " Oh, how I have flurried you, Lucy !" 
 exclaimed Eustace, as he sprang to her 
 side to prevent her faUiug. "Sit down 
 — compose yourself — and I will tell you 
 all. It is such good news ! dear, dear 
 Lucy !" and again he, in his ecstatic hap- 
 piness, was going to press her to his heart, 
 but a look from Lucy checked him. 
 
 '' Forgive me, forgive me !" he cried, 
 " and don't look so frightened ; my mad fit 
 is over now — quite over, I assure you : 
 hut I really am so very happy, I hardly 
 know what I am about. Say you forgive 
 me " — and he held out his hand towards 
 her. 
 
 Lucy took it for a minute — then putting 
 it from her, looked up in his face and 
 smiled. It was the innocent, playful 
 smile of childhood ; it brought Eustace to 
 his senses. The awkward moment, when 
 (almost unknown to himself) he had be- 
 trayed tenderer feelings, had passed away.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 83 
 
 and they were again the Lucy and Eus- 
 tace, the playfellows of former days. 
 
 " But do tell me," said Lucy (her voice 
 still rather tremulous), " what has hap- 
 pened to put you into this extraordinary 
 flurry ?" 
 
 Eustace told his story. 
 
 " Oh, how very delightful !" exclaimed 
 Lucy. " And you will be settled close to 
 us ! and we shall get rid of that odious 
 Mr. Woodford, who puts papa so much 
 out of humour. How very delightful ! I 
 really do not wonder you were so much 
 beside yourself on hearing such good 
 news !" and again Lucy blushed crimson 
 at the remembrance of the effects of this 
 good news on her playfellow. 
 
 When, a short time after, Eustace was 
 alone in his own room (whither he had 
 gone, according to his uncle's desire, to 
 write to his mother), he for some time 
 wept like a child. Had he been asked 
 why, he could not have told ; but he was 
 completely overpowered ; and when he at 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 lengtli slowly recovered from liis agitation, 
 he, for some time, stared vacantly out of 
 tlie window before him, quite unconscious 
 even of what he was gazing at so fixedly, 
 until he was suddenly roused out of his 
 dreamy state by the deep, solemn sounds 
 of the church bell, and starting up, his 
 eye fell upon the grey steeple, then illu- 
 minated by a clear Christmas setting sun, 
 and on the parsonage-house beside it, half 
 hid amid the trees and shrubs which sur- 
 rounded it. 
 
 And then another and still more de- 
 lightful dream took possession of his 
 senses, as in imagination he pictured 
 beside him in that parsonage, her whose 
 presence would have the power to convert 
 even the shades of Erebus into sunshine 
 to him. 
 
 How often in after years did that grey 
 chmxh steeple and parsonage-house start 
 up before the imagination of Eustace as 
 he — but we must not anticipate. 
 
 Eustace had grasped his uncle's hand in
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 85 
 
 heartfelt gratitude, when informed of his 
 kind intentions towards him. He had 
 wept with emotion of some sort, at the 
 happy change in his worldly prospects ; 
 but he had not on his bended knees, 
 returned thanks to the Almighty Dis- 
 poser of all events, for his unlooked-for 
 (perhaps, indeed, it may be added), for 
 his undeserved mercy to him. For amiable 
 and honourable as Eustace was, his heart 
 was not yet touched by Divine grace ; 
 he did not yet acknowledge a hea- 
 venly Father's hand in all, w^iether of 
 good or evil, that befel him. But con- 
 science smote him for his ungrateful 
 neglect, when, a few days after, he re- 
 ceived a letter from his mother in reply 
 to his informing her of the happy change 
 that had taken place in his future pro- 
 spects. 
 
 The poor widow's' heart truly "sang 
 for joy." The church (perhaps, indeed, 
 unknown to herself even), that very 
 church at Elsmere, had been the object of
 
 86 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 her hopes, her wishes, her prayers, for her 
 darhng boy, as a safe refuge from the 
 temptations of a world from which she, in 
 her lonely helplessness, could not shield 
 him. 
 
 "When his own cousin, Charles, had 
 decided in favour of that profession, and 
 the living at Elsmere was accordingly 
 promised to him, she could but bow in 
 submission to what was ordained; but 
 when he was taken away, and that 
 living seemed to be in a manner un- 
 claimed — undestined, it required all Mrs. 
 Grey's resignation not to repine, as she 
 thought of her son doomed to pass his 
 days in the mind-debasing atmosphere of 
 a banking-house, confined to the lowering 
 interests of this world : a mind, too, 
 which the fond mother felt sure was fitted 
 for better things. 
 
 It is not wonderful, therefore, that 
 Mrs. Grrey's letter, written under the 
 influence of such piously-excited feehngs, 
 rendered still more eloquent and affecting
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 87 
 
 by lier earnest prayers for liis teniporal 
 and spiritual well-doing, should have 
 touched the susceptible heart of Eustace 
 Grrey ; and perhaps the first strong feeling 
 of real devotion in that young heart may be 
 dated from the moment when, pressing his 
 mother's letter within his clasped hands, 
 and scarcely conscious what he did, he 
 fell upon his knees, and an earnest prayer 
 for Divine assistance to enable him to dis- 
 charge his duty to that mother, and his 
 heavenly Benefactor, burst from his qui- 
 vering Hps. 
 
 When Mrs. Lushington was informed 
 of Eustace's new prospects in life, and of 
 his gratitude to his uncle for his promise 
 of the Elsmere liraig when vacated, she 
 could not conceal her surprise at his 
 choice, and the sacrifice she considered he 
 had made. 
 
 " Well," she exclaimed, " I cannot 
 imagine what is come over all the young 
 men now-a-days ! They have no spirit ; 
 they are all content to mope in corners
 
 88 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 (rrederick, thank heaven, excepted !) ; it 
 is nothing but the Church, the eternal 
 Church, they care for ! I really cannot 
 imagine what it is that possesses them ; 
 for I am sm-e it seems to me the dullest 
 of all professions — nothing but visiting 
 sick and dpng persons, reading prayers 
 from morning to night, and preaching 
 sermons to which nobody Hstens. I do 
 hope, Eustace, you at least don't intend 
 to be one of those prodigious good persons 
 (like Mr. Woodford), and plague one to 
 death with your daily services, and family 
 prayers, and all that sort of thing; for 
 that will not do at all with your uncle, I 
 can tell you ; and I shall myself decidedly 
 set my face against all those new-fangled 
 notions about reHgion. People were 
 quite good enough formerly ; and I, for 
 my part, have no intention of setting 
 myself up as better than my neighbom-s. 
 So, remember my advice, Eustace, or we 
 shall be sure to quarrel." 
 
 Eustace laughed, and promised he would
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 89 
 
 take care not to be too good. He was to 
 begin bis Oxford career at tbe next term, 
 and came to pay bis last visit at Elsmere 
 Manor before going. Tbe playfellows 
 were, if possible, more devoted to eacb 
 otber tban ever. Tbey felt probably tbat 
 tbeir happy '' playfellow " days were draw- 
 ing to a close ; tbat tbey sbould not in 
 futm-e be so mucb together as heretofore ; 
 and they seemed resolved upon making 
 the most of the present holiday-time 
 allowed them. 
 
 Mr. Lushington was, as usual, almost 
 constantly in London, engrossed by his 
 eternal business ; and Mrs. Lushington 
 was, in her way, equally taken up with 
 her visitors, without whom she was never 
 happy : so Lucy and Eustace were very 
 much left to their own devices, and ha^dng 
 from their childhood been constant com- 
 panions, no one noticed or thought any- 
 thing of it ; in short, they were, from 
 habit, looked upon by others, as well as 
 by themselves, as brother and sister. But
 
 90 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 with Eustace, in truth, that was now no 
 longer the case, although that first child- 
 ish beginning of their intercourse still cast 
 such a halo of innocence over their present 
 affection, as gave it a totally different 
 character from what is ^nilgarly called 
 2u flirtation. 
 
 The last evening of Eustace's stay at 
 Elsmere had arrived — a lovely May 
 evening — and as soon as dinner was 
 over, they, unnoticed, made their escape 
 from the house, to take their last walk 
 together; and this was so common an 
 occurrence, no one thought anything about 
 it. They wandered long amid all their 
 old haunts ; visited the ponies they had 
 ridden together — the dogs they had to- 
 gether fed — the old woman who kept the 
 lodge, and who had always, with a smile 
 so pecuHai'ly kind and welcoming, opened 
 her gate to " Master Grey'' when he came 
 home to Elsmere Manor for the holidays 
 (he being much more popular with all that 
 class of persons than his cold and even
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 91 
 
 hauglity-mannered cousins) ; the young 
 man at the garden, too, with whom 
 Eustace had played many a game at 
 cricket, was remembered; and last, but 
 not least among Eustace's tender associa- 
 tions, Lucy's garden, where he had so 
 often toiled " in the sweat of his brow." 
 Nothing, no one was forgotten ; all were 
 taken leave of, and not without occasional 
 necessary clearings of poor Eustace's 
 throat, as he pronounced that disagreeable 
 word, good-bye. 
 
 " I should like much," said he, as he 
 closed the gate of Lucy's garden, " to take 
 a last look of the church, before we go 
 home, and, as it is getting dusk, we may 
 escape the vigilant eye of our formid- 
 able pastor. Shall we go? I have the 
 key." 
 
 Lucy readily assented, and he drew her 
 arm within his, each of them becoming 
 more and more silent as they proceeded. 
 How dehghtful are such tete-a-tetes, when 
 their silence is not even perceived ! They
 
 92 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 arrived at the door leading into the 
 churchyard, and entered it, 
 
 " Let us sit down for a little while," 
 said Eustace, " for you must be tired." 
 
 Lucy complied, and they placed them- 
 selves on the slab of a tombstone, on the 
 further side of the churchyard from the 
 parsonage. 
 
 Eustace sat for some time silent, lost in 
 thought ; but at length, while apparently 
 still stud}T.ng the epitaph of one who 
 slept in his grave below, he suddenly 
 said, " I had such a delightful dream last 
 night — I think I must tell it you. Do 
 you ever dream, Lucy? Do you beheve 
 in di'eams? do you think that they ever 
 prove true?" 
 
 " We are told they go by contraries," 
 rej^lied Lucy ; " but what was this de- 
 lightful dream of yours ? I may, perhaps, 
 be able to give you its interpretation, or 
 at least trace it to something that occurred 
 the day before, and which, at the moment, 
 may have somehow made an impression
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 93 
 
 upon you; for I think we can often ex- 
 plain dreams in this manner." 
 
 " Oh, no ! you will not be able to ex- 
 plain my dream in that way ; it has nothing 
 to do with what is past. But, perhaps, it 
 may with something in i\iQ future'' 
 
 " Dear me, how very mysterious you 
 are !" said Lucy, laughing ; " what can 
 this portentous dream be ?" 
 
 " Well, listen, and I will tell it you, 
 and perhaps, as you seem so learned in 
 the doctrine of dreams, you will be able 
 to tell me if it is one you think likely to 
 come true. I dreamt — I dreamt — I 
 dreamt that you and I were living to- 
 gether in that parsonage. In short/' 
 added Eustace, in a voice scarcely audible 
 from agitation, '' that you were my wife ! 
 There it is out," he said, as if much 
 relieved. " Now, can you tell me whether 
 you think my beautiful dream is likely to 
 come to pass, or whether it is to go by 
 contraries ?"
 
 94 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 We will leave it to the imagination of 
 the reader to fill up this blank ; for how- 
 ever delightful lovers' confessions and 
 explanations may be to themselves, they 
 are remarkably tiresome and insipid to 
 others. Suffice it therefore to say, that at 
 the termination of their tete-a-tete on the 
 gravestone, Eustace drew a small fretted 
 gold ring from his finger, and placed it on 
 Lucy's. 
 
 " Now, Lucy," said he, " promise me 
 you ^vill wear this ring on the third finger 
 of your left hand, until I put another in 
 its place, and do you give me the one now 
 there. Understand, I ask no promise 
 from you, though I bind myself; and 
 should you ever change your mind, you 
 have only to send me back that ring, and 
 I shall know what it means. I could not 
 leave you now, not knowing when we 
 may meet again (as we have done, at 
 least), without opening my heart to you ; 
 though I am sure I have told you nothing 
 new, nothing you have not known for
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 95 
 
 long. And now it is getting late ; they 
 will be wondering what has become of us ; 
 we had better return to the house." 
 
 "WHien they reached the hall -door, 
 Eustace stopped for a moment before 
 opening it. " Now, Lucy, remember my 
 ring," he said, as he pressed her hand 
 within his ; " and remember, too, this 
 must be a secret between ourselves for the 
 IDvesent. God bless you, dearest !" he 
 faintly whispered, as he bent down to- 
 wards her, " Grod bless you !" 
 
 No one took any notice either of their 
 absence or of their return. Lucy was 
 unusually silent all the remainder of the 
 evening; but Mrs. Lushington was so 
 deeply engaged at ecarte with her visitors, 
 her abstraction passed unnoticed, and the 
 next morning early Eustace left Elsmere 
 Manor for Oxford,
 
 96 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Eustace Grey had been above two years 
 at Oxford at the period of our first be- 
 coming acquainted with him, when he 
 was beginning to recover from that dan- 
 gerous iUness, during which Henry Ne^alle 
 had tended him with even more than a 
 brother's care and kindness, administering 
 to his mind as well as his body, and open- 
 ing to his awakened conscience new views, 
 new duties, new objects in life ; but at 
 the same time arousing him to a sense of 
 most culpable thoughtlessness in the past, 
 and even of actual criminality of conduct. 
 All wliich so preyed upon his mind, that 
 his appetite and sleep forsook him, and he 
 daily grew thinner and thinner, paler and 
 paler, so that Neville became seriously
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 97 
 
 alarmed, and strongly recommended his 
 leaving Oxford for a time, and trying 
 what change of air and scene would do for 
 him — advice which Eustace readily agreed 
 to follow, as he in truth felt himself to be 
 totally unfit for all exertions either of 
 mind or body. And he accordingly wrote 
 to his mother, announcing his intention 
 of paying her a short visit at Torquay. 
 
 Eustace had not certainly by any means 
 recovered his bodily strength since his 
 illness ; but it was his mind which now 
 was chiefly in fault. He was continually 
 haunted by those words of Neville, " You 
 must not engage in the sacred ministry 
 with deceit in your heart !" That deceit, 
 that sin, which like David's ''was ever 
 before him," (and into which his con- 
 science now reproached him with even 
 having drawn another,) allowed him no 
 peace day or night. For he now plainly 
 saw the selfish culpability of his thought- 
 less conduct; and whenever his mind 
 turned to Lucy, (and when, either day or 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 niglit, did it not ?) tlie offence into wliich 
 he had betrayed her, through her inno- 
 cent, almost childhke affection for him, 
 converted every thought connected with 
 her into misery. 
 
 He was now also fully aware of all the 
 difficulties of his situation, in a worldly 
 point of view. He was himself perfectly 
 peimyless ! The delightful home beside the 
 old grey chm'ch at Elsmere Manor, which 
 he had fancied he should have one day to 
 offer to Lucy, he was now fully aware 
 would not be his (even in prospect) the 
 moment Mr. and Mrs. Lushino^ton became 
 acquainted with the thoughtless engage- 
 ment into which he had betrayed their 
 daughter. His dream, therefore — that 
 delightfid dream which Eustace had told 
 to Lucy, as they sat together on the 
 gravestone that last evening of his resi- 
 dence at Elsmere — was broken I — it had, 
 as she had in a manner foretold, " ofone 
 by contraries !" 
 
 With all this preying on his mind, it
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 99 
 
 was not extraordinary that Eustace was 
 altered; he had indeed grown ten years 
 older both in mind and body during the 
 last ten months of his life, and this world, 
 on his return to it since his illness, seemed 
 to him to be a totally different world from 
 what he had left it. No wonder, there- 
 fore, that his poor mother was shocked at 
 the change which had taken place in her 
 "darling boy" (as she still called him) 
 since they had last met, when his bright 
 smile, his joyous laugh, and gay elastic 
 spirits had acted upon hers Hke a gleam 
 of sunshine — lighting up her widowed 
 heart. She was soon convinced it could 
 not be bodily debility alone from which 
 Eustace was suffering, and she endea- 
 voured (as far as she thought it wise in 
 her to venture) to obtain his confidence, 
 and ascertain the cause of his dejection. 
 
 The first thing which occurred to her 
 was, that he had perhaps got into money 
 difiiculties at Oxford; for the allowance, 
 smaU as it was, which he had hitherto
 
 100 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 received from Mr. Lnsliington, had of 
 course, entirely ceased now that he had 
 left the banking-house ; and besides what 
 Mrs. Grey out of her very limited income 
 managed to give him, Eustace, strictly 
 speaking, was at present reduced to the 
 interest of the 3,000/. bequeathed by Mr. 
 Elsmere to his mother. How ardently 
 however did that anxious mother hope 
 and pray this might be the cause of her 
 son's evident disquietude of mind, and 
 how gladly would she have parted with 
 her all to relieve him, that she might 
 again behold on his much-loved face the 
 bright smiles which ever cheered her 
 heart ! 
 
 But on sounding Eustace on the subj ect 
 of his finances, his answers were so open, 
 and so simple and satisfactory, she was 
 convinced it was not in that line the evil 
 lay. 
 
 There was also in him such remarkable 
 innocence and simplicity of tliought and 
 feehng, such an abhorrence (on all oc-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 101 
 
 casions expressed) of those practices and 
 vices which young men generally treat 
 -^Nith such levity, and for which they show 
 so httle disgust or compunction, that Mrs. 
 Grrey was easy on that point also ; and 
 from the bottom of her heart she thanked 
 Grod for that mercy. 
 
 '\Miat then could it be? ^Yhiii was 
 it that made her dear boy wander list- 
 lessly for hom's alone on the sea-shore, 
 ajDpai-ently lost in thought, and then re- 
 turn to her silent, and depressed ? Could 
 it be that he had fallen in love ? (as young 
 men are certainly wont to do.) But then 
 with whom ? for who could possibly have 
 come across liis path, in his dismal, dark 
 back-room at Mr. Lushington's banking- 
 house? Cupid, himself, would have 
 turned away in disgust from so uncon- 
 genial an abode. His cousin, Lucy 
 Lushington ! might it be her ? And 
 Mrs. Grey, under the influence of woman's 
 curiosity, resolved on endeavouring to 
 clear up the mystery. One day, there-
 
 102 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 fore, when slie and Eustace were together 
 alone (he fancying he was reading the 
 book he held in his hand), she suddenly 
 said — 
 
 " Eustace, can you tell me anything of 
 your uncle ? Is he still in London, or is 
 he gone back to Italy, for I know he was 
 not to be absent long ?" 
 
 '' I don't know," was Eustace's laconic 
 reply, as he returned to his book, evi- 
 dently desiring the subject should be 
 dropped. 
 
 But Mrs. Grrey continued : 
 
 " Do you ever hear from Lucy ? does 
 she ever write to you now ? In former 
 days, I know you were great correspond- 
 ents." And Mrs. Grey raised her eyes 
 towards her son. 
 
 She could now no longer doubt but 
 that she had touched the right spring — 
 and she was almost frightened at the 
 effect of that venturous touch. 
 
 The tell-tale blood had rushed up to 
 Eustace's very temples, swelling every
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 103 
 
 vein, and Ms lips quivered. There was no 
 need for any farther inquiry — all was ex- 
 plained. The poor mother at once saw 
 how it was with her stricken child. She 
 went up to him, and imprinting a long, 
 fond kiss on his forehead, without uttering 
 another word left the room. 
 
 They did not meet again till dinner- 
 time, when Eustace was less abstracted, 
 and more like himself, than he had hither- 
 to been — hoping, probably, thereby to do 
 away the impression which he feared 
 might have been made on his mother's 
 mind, by his unguarded moment of agi- 
 tation that morning. 
 
 About a week after this discovery with 
 regard to the state of her son's feelings, 
 Mrs. Grrey received a letter from Mr. 
 Lushington. This was so rare an occur- 
 rence, that she opened it with some tre- 
 pidation, fancying it might concern Eus- 
 tace and her recent discovery. It was as 
 follows : —
 
 104 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " London, February, 1828. 
 " My dear Sister, — I am sorry to 
 learn (in a roundabout way) that Eustace 
 is so far from being recovered from his 
 late illness, as I had hoped he was, that 
 he has been advised to leave Oxford for a 
 time, and that he is with you at Torquay. 
 Pray let me know how he is ; for ]Mr. 
 Watson (through whose son, now with 
 me, I have obtained this information) 
 seems to fear from what he has heard 
 fr'om a friend at Oxford, that Eustace is 
 very seriously unwell, and quite unfit at 
 present for Oxford work. I must say I 
 think it is a great pity he ever left Fen- 
 chm'ch-street, where he never had a day's 
 illness, and where he always appeared gay 
 and happy. He has (young Watson 
 says) been studying much too hard, and 
 the physician's opinion is, that rest both 
 of mind and body is absolutely necessary 
 for him. If this is really the case, I am 
 authorised by ^Ir. Watson (who somehow 
 took a strange fanc}- to Eustace when he
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 105 
 
 met liim at Els mere), to make the follow- 
 ing proposal to him. His second son, 
 Xed, who is now in Eustace's place in 
 the banking-house, is going back with me 
 to Eome for a short time (as I require 
 some one to write for me just now), and 
 will return home in about five or six 
 weeks, and if Eustace would really be 
 the better (medically) for such a change 
 of scene and air, I am willing to take him 
 with me, and he can, Mr. Watson says, 
 return with his son (and, consequently, 
 free of expense) in a very short time. I 
 put the matter into your hands, and you 
 will judge whether to propose the plan to 
 Eustace or not (if you think it will un- 
 settle him). I shall start for Eome in 
 about a fortnight ; and we shall all, I 
 hope, be home early in Jmie. 
 " Yours, 
 
 ''F. LUSHINGTON." 
 
 Had Mrs. Grey been in any doubt before 
 as to the state of her son's mind (or rather 
 heart), none would have remained after
 
 106 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 she had read to him his uncle's letter. 
 At first he really was not able to speak 
 at all. Its contents had so taken him by 
 surprise, and contending feehngs had so 
 completely overpowered him, that Mrs. 
 Grey repeated her inquiry — " Well, Eus- 
 tace, what do you say ? shall you like 
 to go?" — several times, before she got 
 any answer whatever ; at length, on the 
 question being put the third time, he 
 stammered out — • 
 
 " I don't know — I am not sure — I 
 must inquire — consult — I don't know 
 how far I should." 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Grrey, hoping 
 to assist him in coming to a decision — 
 " Of com'se you must not break through 
 college rules — but — ^but — " and there she 
 stopped, for, in truth, she did not very 
 well know how to finish her sentence. 
 Had she spoken out, according to a doat- 
 ing mother's feehngs, she would have 
 added — " But I long for whatever will 
 make my dear Eustace look happy, and
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 107 
 
 like liimself again/' Eustace made no 
 answer, and closing his book, left the room. 
 
 On reaching his own apartment, it was 
 some time before he was sufficiently com- 
 posed, even to be sm^e what he did wish, 
 in consequence of Mr. Lushington's letter 
 — and still less what he ought to wish ! 
 At length he resolved on easing his mind 
 and quieting his conscience, by seeking 
 the advice of his friend, Mr. Neville, and 
 leaving it to him to fix his fate. 
 
 Mr. Neville's answer came by return of 
 post ; it was as follows : — " I am too little 
 acquainted with the particular circum- 
 stances of your situation to be able to 
 give you any advice. I have no doubt, 
 but that in consideration of the state of 
 your health, the provost will prolong your 
 leave of absence — only you must make it 
 a point to be back in time not to lose your 
 term. As to the advisability of your 
 joining yom' friends in Italy, you must in 
 that be guided entirely by your own feel- 
 ings and conscience ; but, again, I repeat
 
 108 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 — as you value your happiness in tliis 
 world, and still more in the next — do not 
 think of entering the sacred ministry 
 witlt deceit in your heart. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "H. N." 
 
 What answer poor Eustace had hoped 
 to have received from his friend, or what 
 other indeed he could have fancied Mr. 
 Neville could possibly have given him, 
 it is difficult to say ; but he was much 
 disappointed both at the brevity and the 
 contents of this letter, and more than ever 
 j)erplexed with regard to his decision. At 
 length, after a considerable time, not of 
 thought exactly, but of contention of feel- 
 ing, he suddenly seized his pen and ex- 
 claiming — " Come what may I will see her 
 again ! I will enjoy one short moment 
 of felicity, and then — then I will confess 
 all, and leave my fate in the hands of — of 
 God !" Eustace wrote in the abundance of 
 his heart a most grateful letter to his uncle,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 109 
 
 and also to his kind friend, Mr. Watson ; 
 and in little more than a week's time, he 
 was with his two companions on his way 
 to Eome — to Lucy ! — a much graver, 
 paler, thinner man, than when he and 
 his playfellow had parted two years before, 
 but strengthened in principle, and re- 
 solved, with manly courage, to do his 
 duty, let the result be what it might. 
 
 And so sincere was Eustace in this 
 his determination, that had it not been 
 for the presence of young Watson, who 
 was third with him and his uncle in their 
 traveUing carriage, his dreaded confession 
 would, in aU probability, have been made 
 before the termination of their journey. 
 
 As they approached their final destina- 
 tion, however, other feelings obtained the 
 mastery. Lucy's image was now ever 
 before him, and he could scarcely beheve 
 his happiness, when he thought that in a 
 few more days he should actually be with 
 her ; once more behold her beloved coun- 
 tenance — hear her voice — be under the
 
 110 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 same roof with her — see her all day long — 
 the first thing in the morning, the last 
 thing at night ! So long a time had now 
 passed since he had enjoyed snch extatic 
 happiness, and so strong did hope and 
 yonth still hve Tvdthin his breast, that he 
 resolved on banishing (at least for the 
 next few weeks) all painful anticipations 
 and reflections, and being for that short 
 period, as happy as he could ; and then — 
 and then — " Come what may, all shall be 
 made known." Having thus made this 
 compact with principle and his conscience, 
 Eustace gave himself up to rapture ; and 
 no words can describe the suffocating 
 throbbing of his heart, when, faintly 
 and still at a considerable distance, the 
 dome of St. Peter's, glittering in a 
 bright Itahan setting sun, first caught 
 his eye. 
 
 He actually started on liis seat, and 
 turning hastily towards young Watson, 
 who was slumbering in the corner of the 
 carriage beside him, '' AYake, wake !" he
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. Hi 
 
 exclaimed, as he seized iiim by the arm. 
 '' Why, there is St. Peter's !" 
 
 " What do you say ?" cried his startled 
 companion, with a vacant, sleepy stare. 
 " Who ? Peter ? What's the matter ? 
 What has happened ?" 
 
 " The matter !" repeated Eustace. " Why, 
 don't you see that we are all but arrived ! 
 There actually is St. Peter's ! there ! there, 
 to your right !" 
 
 " Oh ! is that all ?" replied his more 
 phlegmatic companion. " I really thought 
 some accident had occurred ;" and for a 
 moment looking out of the carriage-win- 
 dow in the direction to which Eustace 
 pointed, " Ah, well, perhaps that may be 
 St. Peter's ; but we are still many a mile 
 distant, T dare say : tell me when we are 
 fairly arrived." And so saying, Ned 
 Watson returned to his comer in the 
 carriage, and resumed his slumbers. 
 
 Mr. Lushiagton, to whom Pome and 
 St. Peter's were no novelties, either was, 
 or pretended to be asleep also ; so that
 
 112 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 during the hour which stiU intervened 
 before actually reacliing their destination, 
 Eustace was left to the luxuiy of his own 
 rapturous anticipations. 
 
 The gate of Eome was entered ; the 
 Piazza del Popolo, with its churches, 
 statues, and fountains, was passed ; but 
 of all this Eustace saw nothing. The 
 Via Babuino, into which they then drove, 
 seemed endless ; such a confusion of car- 
 riages, clumsy carts wdtli barrels rolling 
 about in them and out of them at every 
 step ; whole strings of obstinate donkeys, 
 with enormous panniers, continually pass- 
 ing before their horses' noses. At length, 
 however, all these difficulties were sur- 
 mounted ; the travellers entered the Piazza 
 di Spagna — the carriage drove up to the 
 door of Serni's hotel, and Eustace caught 
 the first sight of Lucy at the balcony. 
 That moment of rapture ! when, after a 
 long separation, aU our fondest visions of 
 reunion are realized, and our eyes behold 
 the being we have so long only dreamt of.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 113 
 
 Could that moment possibly be bought, 
 what sums would not be expended in the 
 purchase ! Even the widow's mite, it is 
 to be feared, would often be thus spent, 
 if it could procure for her but one look 
 of the face she had once so loved to look 
 upon. 
 
 VOL. L
 
 114 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Bee ORE we enter upon tlie account of 
 Eustace Grey's life in Eome, we had 
 better explain how such (to all appear- 
 ance) an unlikely circumstance as the 
 Lushington family being there located, 
 came to pass. It had long been the ob- 
 ject of Mrs. Lushington' s most earnest 
 wishes to go abroad : not that she cared 
 one farthing for any of the objects for 
 which people visit foreign parts ; but at 
 the time of which we are treating (about 
 thirty years ago), everj^body went abroad, 
 many as little fitted by refinement of 
 mind and education to benefit by the 
 expedition as ]\Irs. Lushington herself; 
 for she (innocent woman !) did not, even 
 after she had seen them, know one moun-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 115 
 
 tain, or lake, or picture, or statue, or 
 scarcely one town, or even country, from 
 another — all being jumbled together in 
 lier head, into that one comprehensive 
 THING called abroad ! 
 
 But, as we have said, it was incumbent 
 on every one at that period (when peace 
 had at last opened the Continent, so long 
 shut up), for every one to make the regu- 
 lar tour through France, Grermany, Swit- 
 zerland, and Italy. So everybody went : 
 three-fourths of these travellers (although 
 with Mrs. Starke in their carriage-pocket) 
 coming home again none the wiser or 
 better, and many, indeed, very much the 
 worse for their unsettled, wandering, idle 
 life. 
 
 It was not, as we have already said, 
 either beauty of scenery, or the fine arts, 
 or the interest of historical antiquity, 
 which attracted Mrs. Lushington, but 
 the secret hope of making her way into 
 that better most fine society from which, 
 owing to her connection with the world
 
 116 THE OLD GREr CHURCH. 
 
 beyond Temple Bar, she was naturally 
 excluded at home, and which, in conse- 
 quence of the jumbling together at this 
 time of all sorts and classes of individuals 
 (of all such, at least, as travelled with two 
 carriages, ladies' -maids, and gentlemen's- 
 gentlemen, and a courier galloping on 
 before, to turn the inns topsy-turvy for 
 their accommodation), might, she hoped, 
 be accomplished in the chance meetings 
 and fortunate accidents of foreign travel. 
 And in this idea Mrs. Lushington was 
 certainly much more in the right, and 
 judged much wiser judgment than she did 
 about most things. For it must be con- 
 fessed that Mrs. Lushington was neither 
 more nor less than an exceedingly silly 
 woman — on all subjects, at least, except 
 such as are connected with little worldly 
 plottings and calculations ; for on those 
 she was wonderfully acute. 
 
 How Mr. Lushington, the careful, sen- 
 sible, prudent Mr. Lushington, came to 
 marry so silly a woman, may at first sight
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 11? 
 
 seem strange ; but the case is easily ex- 
 plained by referring to more than half of 
 the marriages which take place in the 
 world. 
 
 Mrs. Lushington had been, and, indeed, 
 was still, a very pretty woman. Mr. 
 Lushington once Avas young, and in an 
 unguarded moment, poor man ! he actu- 
 all}^ fell in love, and somehow got entan- 
 gled in matrimony before he knew what 
 he was about ; and wise as he might be 
 in regard to money speculations, he, when 
 under the influence of that malady, and 
 although quite aware of his fah one's 
 inferiority of intellect, made a wrong cal- 
 culation in that adventure, thinking that 
 a wife not much overburdened with mind 
 or car act ere (according to the French pro- 
 nunciation and meaning of the word) 
 would be more docile and subservient, 
 and give him less trouble than one more 
 highly endowed by Nature, by being con- 
 tent to play a secondary part in the 
 matrimonial drama. But in this, Mr.
 
 118 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Luslnngton (like many besides liim) found 
 himself to be grievously mistaken ; for bis 
 better half soon proved tbatif sbe failed in 
 natural superiority of intellect, sbe pos- 
 sessed, to an eminent degree, tliat talent 
 wbicb succeeds in gaining its point wben 
 mere sense and reason fails, namely, the 
 art of teasing ; and sbe was cbecked in 
 tbe use of tbat art by no delicacy of feel- 
 ing or qualms of conscience. Witb re- 
 gard to tbis foreign expedition, circum- 
 stances also bad favoured Mrs. Lusbing- 
 ton's wisbes in a wonderful, and most 
 unlooked-for manner. 
 
 Mr. Lusbington's life of incessant la- 
 borious tbougbt and calculation, bad at 
 lengtb brougbt on an alarming disposition 
 to apoplexy, at least of blood to tbe bead, 
 and entire relaxation from all business, 
 — complete rest of mind, in sbort, was 
 most peremptorily ordered hj tbe family 
 pbysician. 
 
 Tbis was not to be secured if be re- 
 mained witbin possible reacb of tbe city,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 119 
 
 the banking-house, his partners, and his 
 clerks, all which unfortunate dependents 
 he was ever overlooking at their desks 
 with the most scrutinizing ^agilance. He 
 must, in short, go out of England — no- 
 thino^ less than that would do. 
 
 Now this family physician was an espe- 
 cial and confidential friend of Mrs. Lush- 
 ington's, who was always fancying she 
 needed his advice for some vague, name- 
 less, and not-to-be-detected complaint, and 
 she gave him to understand, that a ivinter 
 in Rome would be of the greatest service 
 both to herself and her husband, besides 
 probably checking that disposition to cold 
 and cough to which Lucy (like every one 
 else in winter everywhere) was inclined; 
 and so well did Mrs. Lushington manage 
 her game that the whole family were 
 ordered to Italy immediately, and to Italy 
 the whole family prepared to go. 
 
 Xot that ^Ir. Lushington would have 
 been so obedient to either wife or phy- 
 sician, had it not been that, among his
 
 120 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 numerous and complicated speculations, 
 he had entered into some connected with 
 the banking-houses of the Eothschilds at 
 Naples, and Torlonia at Eome, with both 
 of whom some personal communications 
 were just then peculiarly desirable. 
 
 Such were the circumstances which led 
 to the Lusliingtons' journey to Italy ; and 
 they had been established about three or 
 four months at Eome at the time when 
 Eustace received that letter from Lucy 
 which drew down upon her NeviUe's 
 animadversions, and from wdiich may be 
 dated a new era in the existence of Eus- 
 tace Grey. 
 
 Lucy's welcome to her cousin was as 
 kind as ever it had been, but perhaps 
 more reserved, and her expressions of 
 pleasure in again seeing him more re- 
 strained. She gave his hand one affec- 
 tionate pressure, and then hastily with- 
 drew hers from his grasp. She gave him 
 one bright smile, and then turned imme- 
 diately to her father.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 121 
 
 Poor Eustace was so nervously alive to 
 everything connected with Luc}^ that 
 even at this very first moment he fancied 
 (though he could not have told in what) 
 that she was not just the same — that she 
 was somehow changed. 
 
 And so she was, in many ways — Her 
 manners were more formed ; there was no 
 longer anything of the child in them. She 
 was also changed in appearance, but de- 
 cidedly improved, although her complexion 
 was somewhat browned by an Italian sun. 
 Her countenance had more expression — 
 more mind in it : she was slimmer, too, 
 in figure, which made her appear taller, — 
 in short, she was changed, there was no 
 denying it, and Eustace, who could not 
 bear to look upon any indications of her 
 not being exactly the same Lucy she had 
 ever been, heaved a sigh at the altera- 
 tions. 
 
 The day on which Mr. Lushington 
 was to reach Eome having been uncer- 
 tain, Mrs. Lushington had engaged some
 
 1:22 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 of her new fashionable acquaintances re- 
 siding in the same hotel (which, indeed, 
 comprises nearly two sides of the Piazza 
 di Spagna), to dine with her that very 
 evenino" • and as the travellers did not 
 arrive till near six, there was httle time 
 for more than welcomings, before it was 
 necessary to part for their respective toi- 
 lettes ; and when Eustace re-entered the 
 salon, the party were all assembled, and 
 Lucy was so surrounded by her new 
 friends, he could not even get near her. 
 
 Dinner was soon after announced, and 
 a tall good-looking man, who had pre- 
 viously been talking most assiduously to 
 her, offered Lucy his arm, and they went 
 into the dining-room together. Again a 
 vague, unhappy, disappointed feehng 
 passed over Eustace's mind; again he 
 said to himself, " How Lucy is changed !" 
 And yet, what had poor Lucy said or 
 done ? and what, indeed, could she have 
 done or said differently than she had ? 
 
 As there were several more men than
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 123 
 
 women of the party, and as he was 
 unknown to them all, and, consequently, 
 noticed by none, Eustace and his sleepy 
 travelling companion, Ned Watson, were 
 the two last who entered the dinner-room. 
 Poor Eustace's pulse was rapidly sinking : 
 aU this was so totally different from the 
 reception which he had rehearsed over and 
 over to himself during the last days of his 
 journey. Was it worth while to have 
 travelled so many hundred miles in order 
 to sit by Ned Watson ? for he and Ned 
 Watson were still standing side by side 
 near the entrance-door into the dining*- 
 room, while the guests were placing them- 
 selves, and he foresaw they were to be 
 inseparable 1 
 
 On a sudden, however, he caught the 
 eye of Lucy anxiously looking at him, 
 from the further side of the dinner-table. 
 She pointed to an empty seat next hers, 
 and in a minute, at the risk of overthrow- 
 ing several of the attendants and their 
 dishes, Eustace was seated by her side.
 
 124 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 She commenced immediately asking 
 him all sorts of questions relative to his 
 journey ; how he had hked this and that ; 
 where they had slept the night before, &c., 
 &c.; in short, aU. those usual inquiries 
 which every one settled at Eome makes of 
 a newly-arrived traveller. Before long, 
 however, her neighbour on the other side 
 appeared to grow impatient of her ex- 
 clusive attention to the new comer, and in 
 order to recall it to himself, began talking 
 of their adventures of that morning, 
 discussing the ruins and aqueducts they 
 had visited, and proposing another such 
 equestrian expedition into the Campagna 
 the following day. Eustace, not having, 
 of course, the least idea even of what they 
 were talking about, could not join in the 
 conversation, and, in consequence, sat in 
 disconcerted silence ; and as he looked 
 around the table, and did not see a face he 
 had ever seen before (except the eternal 
 Ned Watson, not yet quite awake from his 
 carriage slumbers), how he wished himself
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 125 
 
 at Elsmere Manor, fourtli ^^th his uncle, 
 aunt, and Lucy I 
 
 Eustace had never mixed in general 
 society, the close application to business 
 to which he had been confined while with 
 his uncle in the City, and since to his 
 studies at Oxford, making that impossible ; 
 his manners, therefore, were the result of 
 good sense and good feeling, united to 
 a naturally superior understanding, rather 
 than of intercourse wdth the w^orld, and 
 he had, consequently, as Mr. Watson had 
 said, " none of the slang " of the fashion- 
 able young men of the day. 
 
 In no society, however, could Eustace 
 have been deplace, and there was so great 
 a charm in his intelligent countenance, 
 and simj)le, open manners, that every one, 
 from the first, was prepossessed in his 
 favour. Eut Eustace w^as quite uncon- 
 scious of these his attractions, and finding 
 himself now on a sudden thrown amongf a 
 set of persons of a totally difierent class of 
 society from that in which he had ever
 
 126 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 mixed, lie felt thoroughly abashed and 
 disconcerted; and again he thought, 
 " Why did I ever come to Italy ? for 
 alas ! it is not coming to Lucy !" 
 
 There was, however, at length, a pause 
 in her animated conversation with her 
 right-hand neighbour, and she turned to 
 Eustace, " I have been consulting with 
 Sir Alexander Melville," she said, " what 
 will be the best way of beginning your 
 Eoman education, for there is so much to 
 be seen and done, you must lose no time, 
 and I really do not know how to arrange it 
 all. To-morrow, of course, you must be in- 
 troduced in form to St. Peter — and it will 
 take a long time to do him thoroughly — 
 then there is the Vatican, and Sistine 
 Chapel close by, if there is time. Then 
 next day, we will go — oh, next day is 
 Sunday, I rather think;" and she added, 
 after a moment (again turning to Su' 
 Alexander), " Have you heard, by-the-by, 
 that his Holiness is so much discomposed 
 at the manner in which we heretics dese-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 121 
 
 crate St. Peter's, by converting it (as he 
 says) into a regular public lounge, during 
 vespers on Sundays, that lie has arranged 
 with. Bishop Baines that he shall preach 
 at the ' Jesu and Maria ' at that same 
 hour, in order to try and draw away the 
 English from his own particular sanctum 
 sanctorum, being shocked at our irrever- 
 ence ? Now, which had we better go to 
 on Sunday ? I should like very well to 
 hear Bishop Baines preach, he is such a 
 picturesque old man, with his black dress, 
 and large gold cross, and he is very 
 eloquent, I believe ; but I grudge losing 
 the music at St. Peter's. The sermon, I 
 suppose, would be most in your line, 
 Eustace," said she, again turning to him, 
 with a smile, " now you are grown so — 
 so ecclesiastical; and you will, I suspect, 
 Hke him, be inclined to give us all a scold 
 for our levity and bad behaviour in their 
 churches and at their religious ceremonies, 
 and I must say it is not very decorous. 
 So what do you say, Eustace ? what shall
 
 128 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 we do ? for I know Lady Emily will go 
 to wliichever we fix upon." 
 
 Eustace was silent for a moment, and 
 then taking courage, said, "Is there not 
 an English Protestant Church we can go 
 to?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, we can go there in the 
 morninsr. But I do not wish to lose any 
 of the terribly short time (by what papa 
 says) that you are to be here, and I do so 
 long to begin your sight-seeing. But," 
 she continued, in a lower voice, and 
 bending down her head towards Eustace, 
 " how delightful your being here at all ! 
 I had not even dreamt of such a thing 
 being possible, and could scarcely believe 
 it, when papa wrote to tell us of Mr. 
 Watson's kind proposal and arrangement 
 for you. He is such a dear, kind, old 
 man ;" and Lucy's mind apparently left 
 Eome, and its sights, and company, and 
 travelled home to all her former interests 
 and associations ; and she continued in a 
 still lower voice, " "Were you not sm-prised
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 129 
 
 and rejoiced at that piece of news I sent 
 you about Mr. Woodford? It really is 
 quite a relief to think we shall not have 
 him any more to bother us with his good- 
 ness : so that now we may look upon that 
 as settled, I hope ; and you have only to 
 make haste, and take orders as soon as 
 possible." Then after a moment's pause 
 she exclaimed, " That dear, old grey 
 chuiTh !" 
 
 Eustace had felt rather uncomfortable 
 dming the w^hole of these home reminis- 
 cences, and when Lucy named the " dear, 
 old grey chm'ch," he was seized with such 
 a strange, choking sensation, that he was 
 obhged to have recoui'se to a tumbler of 
 water near him, and drank it off at a 
 drauo^ht. 
 
 Sh Alexander, apparently taking ad- 
 vantage of this pause in their conversation 
 said (not in so low a voice, however, but 
 that Eustace heard him), and in rather a 
 supercihous tone, " AVho is that sitting 
 beside you ? He seems quite neiv — for I 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 have not seen him before — is he your 
 brother ?'* 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy ; and then, laughing 
 at her answer, and blushing deeply, she 
 added, " Oh, no ! not exactly my brother, 
 but almost — my cousin. " Eustace," said 
 she, turning to him, in a confused, hurried 
 manner, " I must introduce you to Su' 
 Alexander Melville. I supj^ose I should 
 have done so before, but I forgot you 
 were not acquainted." 
 
 The gentlemen bowed, but neither 
 spoke. As for poor Eustace, he was 
 altogether too much put out to have any- 
 thing ready to say, and his new acquaint- 
 ance looked at him with an expression 
 which seemed to imply, that he did not 
 think him worth the trouble of a forced 
 conversation. Several more visitors came 
 in the evening, Lord and Lady This, and 
 Sir Something and Lady That, and 
 several young men (many of them honour- 
 ables). In short, Mrs Lushington had 
 evidently gained her point, and was at
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 131 
 
 last admitted into that fasHonable elite of 
 society which had so long been the object 
 of her ambition ; and she was, in conse- 
 quence, rayonante with dehght and good 
 humour. 
 
 How far it suited Mr. Lushington's 
 taste, might be doubtful ; but, at all 
 events, being completely a gentleman, both 
 in manner and ajDpearance, he seemed less 
 out of his element in it than his wife, who 
 overacted her part, from the fear of not 
 coming up to it. He was also much im- 
 proved by being in the society of those 
 with whom he was not quite at his ease, 
 and to whom he could not lay down the 
 law, as he was apt to do among his City 
 friends, who all looked up to him with 
 especial respect and deference. 
 
 As for Lucy, again Eustace was struck 
 with the change which had taken place in 
 her. Perhaps she was improved — she had 
 more of what is called manner, more con- 
 versation, more self-possession — in short, 
 was perhaps more generally attractive ; 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 but he, in liis jealous, devoted affection, 
 wished her to be exactly what she had 
 ever been, looking to him as her first — as 
 he had hitherto been — her only companion 
 and friend. IN'ow, on the contrary, sur- 
 rounded by all her new acquaintances, oc- 
 cupied with them about things and people 
 of whom he as yet knew nothing, all 
 talking their Eoman talk, and with their 
 Eoman jokes and allusions, he seemed to 
 be the excluded stranger, and the rest of 
 the company her intimate friends. 
 
 Most wearisome, therefore, to poor 
 Eustace, was this first evening at Eome. 
 At length, however, the \^sitors all re- 
 paii'ed to their respective apartments and 
 hotels : and !Mr. Lushington, in rather a 
 peevish tone, declaring he was " very 
 tired," candles were rung for, and each 
 prepared to retire to rest. As Eustace 
 and Lucy shook hands, on bidding each 
 other good night (according to their old- 
 established custom from childhood), Lucy 
 said, in a voice low enough not to be
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 133 
 
 heard by Mrs. Lusliington, wlio was jnst 
 before tbem, " Shall we play at being at 
 Elsmere to-morrow morning, and have a 
 walk together before breakfast ? Mamma is 
 always very late, so there will be plenty 
 of time for me to take you up to the 
 Pincio, if you will be rested enough after 
 your jommey, and would like it." There 
 can be no doubt as to what answer Eustace 
 made to this proposal, and thus they 
 parted for the night. 
 
 After he had reached his own room, it 
 was long before Eustace even thought of 
 going to bed, still longer before he went 
 to sleep. Whether it was pain or pleasure 
 which kept him awake, he could not pro- 
 bably himself have told ; his mind was in 
 so strange, so agitated a state. He was 
 again under the same roof with Lucy, and 
 yet the}^ seemed to be totally separated ; 
 and he had not courage even to attempt 
 to surmount the mysterious barrier, which 
 appeared now to be raised between them. 
 She, surrounded by her numerous new
 
 134 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 friends and admirers, (for evidently, as he 
 thought, Sir Alexander MelviUe admired 
 her,) was light-hearted and happy ; while 
 he alone, with his self-tormenting thoughts, 
 his " fault ever hefore him," and his 
 dreaded confession hanging over him (a 
 dead weight on his spirits), was miserable ! 
 Sometimes he regretted he had availed 
 himself of his uncle's invitation to accom- 
 pany him to Italy, only, as it appeared, to 
 be made more unhappy. Then Neville's 
 inquiry, " Is she a child of Grod ?" shot 
 through his mind, and a deep sigh escaped 
 liim. Was it Lucy that was changed, or 
 was it himself? for surely she did not for- 
 merly, he thought, talk with such levity 
 upon serious subjects, as she seemed to 
 him to do now. Thus tormented with 
 recollections of the past, and fears for the 
 future, Eustace spent the first night of his 
 residence at Eome. No wonder that he 
 looked worn, pale, and iU next day.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 135 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 The cousins were punctual to their ap- 
 pointment, and met in the sitting-room. 
 Lucy greeted Eustace in her old, intimate 
 manner; and then, looking earnestly at 
 him for a moment, " Dear Eustace, how 
 iU you have been ! Last night, by candle- 
 Hght, I was not aware of your bad looks, 
 but now I see how pale and thin you are 
 grown 1 You must have been very ill ?" 
 " Yes, I believe I was," said Eustace ; " but 
 I am quite well now, and shall soon, I 
 dare say, recruit here — with you," he 
 added in a lower tone, for conscience gave 
 him a twinge. He had still hold of 
 Lucy's hand, and his eyes, at that moment, 
 feU upon the small fretted gold ring on 
 that same third finger on which he had
 
 136 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 himself placed it. He instantly di'opped 
 her hand, as if it had stung him, while 
 the deepest crimson suffused his face. 
 Luc^, who had observed what had at that 
 moment attracted his attention, coloured 
 also, but said nothing ; and they immedi- 
 ately sallied forth, and mounted the long 
 flight of marble steps leading to the Tri- 
 nita di Monte. 
 
 It had been nearly dark on the preceding 
 evening, when Eustace and his fellow- 
 travellers arrived ; and having then eyes 
 for nothing but Lucy^ he was, as yet, per- 
 fectly unaware of his present locale; the 
 vieWy therefore, which now burst upon 
 him on reaching the sort of platform at 
 the summit of the Trinita steps, astonished 
 and delighted him. He looked down upon 
 the Eternal City ! Before him rose St. 
 Peter's, alone and majestic, even amid the 
 crowd of surrounding steeples, cupolas, 
 and domes, towering above them aU. 
 Beyond, his eye wandered to ruined aque- 
 ducts, reaching far into the Campagna.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 137 
 
 He beheld the Capitol, Trajan's Arch, the 
 Colosseum — all relics of the past ; names 
 which he had so often read in history, and 
 which, of themselves, are enough to excite 
 the feehngs of the most ignorant and 
 phlegmatic, and Eustace Grey was neither. 
 He was in an ecstasy of astonishment and 
 dehght, and Lucy was delighted with his 
 raptures. " I am so very glad you are 
 worthy of all this," said she ; " you some- 
 how looked last night so unlike yourself, 
 so — so out of sorts, in short. I was afraid 
 that, after all, your expedition was not 
 going to answer. Kow, I insist upon 
 your putting yourself entirely into my 
 hands while you are at Eome, and doing 
 whatever I bid you ; and to begin, I must 
 positively get you out of your awful 
 gravity, for I see quite plain, that, with 
 your new serious ideas about everything, 
 (and Lucy laid a great stress on the word 
 serious,) you actually think it ^^Tong to be 
 happy and merry." A deep sigh involun- 
 tarily escaped poor Eustace's breast.
 
 138 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " There now, what is that sigh for ?" she 
 added, laughing. " I suppose you will say 
 for your sins ; and, no doubt, we have all 
 of us plenty of them to sigh for; but 
 please put off your repentance till I have 
 done the honours of Eome to you, and 
 be content with being (at least for the 
 present) as good, or rather as had, as your 
 neighbours ; and you need not try to per- 
 suade me you are even the latter, for I 
 never can or shall believe it ;" and with 
 the most bewitching smile, she laid her 
 hand on the arm of Eustace. Poor Eus- 
 tace ! to what a sore trial was he then put ! 
 How he longed to press that dear hand to 
 his heart — to his lips ! but he did neither, 
 he dared not even speak, and they re- 
 turned to their hotel nearly in silence. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lushington had not yet 
 appeared for breakfast, so they had time 
 to plan their day's sight-seeing. 
 
 " Lady Emily and Mr. Maxwell are to 
 be here at two, to go with us to St. Peter's 
 and the Vatican," said Lucy, " and Sir
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 139 
 
 Alexander Melville said lie would join us 
 there." 
 
 " Oh, why ?" exclaimed Eustace, eagerly, 
 " why can't we go alone ? it would be so 
 much pleasanter." 
 
 Lucy laughed. " Oh, I suppose that 
 would not be proper, not comme il faut, 
 mamma would say ; and Mr. Maxwell is a 
 capital cicerone, very knowing about pic- 
 tures, and statues, and antiquities, and 
 will tell you about them all much better 
 than I can." 
 
 " I should have been much better 
 pleased with your information, however," 
 murmured Eustace, dejectedly, for he 
 dreaded being again cheated of Lucy's 
 society, as he had been the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 Every one is now-a-days so well ac- 
 quainted with all the interesting sights of 
 Eome, there is no need to go over the 
 ground again with Eustace. Suffice it to 
 say, he was tolerably well content with 
 the share he had of Lucy's company and
 
 140 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 conversation tliat morning, thanks to 
 other persons, who, joining their party, to 
 a degree drew off the attention of Lady 
 Emily and Sir Alexander; and Eustace 
 was too much alive to all that is interest- 
 ing and beautiful in art and antiquity, 
 not to have been (for the moment at least) 
 taken out of himself, and made to forget 
 his cares and fears. On their return to 
 the hotel, Lucy was informed that Mrs. 
 Lushington desired to see her in her own 
 room. Eustace, who heard the message, 
 immediately turned towards her with a 
 look of alarm, his scared imagination 
 keeping him in a constant state of nervous 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," said Luc}^ 
 laughing ; "I don't think we can pos- 
 sibly have done wrong, or trespassed 
 against any rule of the strictest propriety 
 and good manners since we left home. I 
 dare say it is only some order about the 
 carriage." 
 
 The minute Lucy entered, Mrs. Lush-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 141 
 
 ington's room, the latter inquired, in 
 rather an angry tone, where she had been, 
 and with whom ? 
 
 " Only to the Vatican with Lady Emily 
 and Mr. Maxwell, mamma, as you know 
 was settled last night." 
 
 " Oh, well ! I was afraid yon had been 
 scampering about with Eustace again ; for 
 Lady Eainsforth, who has been here, tells 
 me that you and he were out walking 
 together alone, this morning, on the 
 Pincio, which I must say was a most 
 extraordinary tiling for him to think of 
 proposing to you to do ; and I beg it may 
 never be repeated. Lady Eainsforth 
 really seemed quite shocked !" 
 
 " It was entirely my proposal, mamma : 
 we used, you know, constantly to walk 
 out together at Elsmere, and I longed to 
 show him the view from the Trinita del 
 Monte." 
 
 " WeU, I beg you will show him no 
 more Trinitas or an^Hihing else before 
 breakfast again. It is quite hoydenish,
 
 142 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 and very mauvais ton, and I wonder how 
 you could ever think of such a thing ! 
 Eustace, of course, knows no better, and 
 nothing of the world, or good manners, 
 how can he ? It is all very well your 
 being what you call playfellows formerly 
 at Elsmere; but that sort of childish 
 thing will not do here. And I am sure 
 he can't be much of a jo/a^/fellow (as you 
 call him), for I never saw a more wo- 
 begone, deplorable-looking object than he 
 is grown ! What in the world is the 
 matter with him ?" 
 
 "He has been very ill you know, 
 mamma ; and, I think, he is much out of 
 spirits." 
 
 " Out of spirits ? What nonsense ! what 
 should he be ' out of spirits ' for ? It is a 
 great pity he did not stay where he was, 
 in the banking-house. I always said so, 
 and I always wiU. He wiU get all sorts 
 of foohsh notions into his head at Oxford ; 
 indeed I should not be at all surprised if 
 he took to those new-fangled notions
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 143 
 
 about high church steeples, which all 
 young men are now mad about. What it 
 is I am sure I don't pretend to know, 
 only I understand it is something very 
 dangerous and wrong; and if Eustace 
 gives into it, my service to him, for I am 
 determined I will not countenance such 
 things. So now remember, Lucy, I insist 
 upon it, there are to be no more early 
 walks, or any romantic nonsense about 
 playfellows I Lady Eainsforth would 
 hardly believe me when I told her Eustace 
 was not your brother. She was con- 
 vinced he must have been that, at the 
 very least, she said." 
 
 It can easily be imagined with what 
 regret and disappointment Eustace heard 
 of this prohibition, although of course 
 Lucv softened it to him as much as she 
 could; and his spirits or temper (which- 
 ever was in fault) did not improve when 
 he heard that several of the guests of the 
 preceding evening were to assemble again 
 that day for dinner ; when he, in conse-
 
 144 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 qnence, again fell into the background, 
 and was obliged to content himself with 
 questioning Ned Watson with regard to 
 what he had done, and where he had been, 
 scarcely attending (it is to be feared) to 
 his answers. 
 
 " Oh, I have done very httle," said poor 
 Ned ; " I have been kept so deuced close 
 to my pen and ink all day : but as far as 
 I have seen, it seems to me but a shabby 
 sort of a place — nothing but a parcel of 
 tumbHng-down rubbishy walls and build- 
 ings. I wonder the Pope (who has it, I 
 believe, all his own way here) don't set to 
 work, and have it cleaned up a Httle, and 
 the old buildings repaired, those at least 
 which are worth it ; but I believe all his 
 monks and friars are lazy dogs, and won't 
 work. Then such narrow dirty streets — 
 such dirt — yah ! enough to make a cat 
 sick ! And as for the Tiber, which there 
 is such a rout about, why it is no better 
 than a muddy ditch, not to be named in 
 the same day as the Thames at Waterloo
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 145 
 
 Bridge. However, I was well enough 
 amused this afternoon, watching some 
 fellow^s playing at a game w^hich I think 
 they called nora, or mora, or some such 
 thing ; but they talked such abominable 
 gibberish, I could not make out a word of 
 what they said, nor could I make head 
 or tail of the game; but they seemed 
 deuced nimble at it with their fingers, and 
 if one had known what they were at, there 
 might have been some fun betting on the 
 winner. I find we are going the very 
 beginning of next week to Naples." 
 
 " To Naples !" exclaimed Eustace, with 
 a look of dismay. " Oh, not you, so you 
 need not be so alarmed," said Ned, wink- 
 ing his eye, " for I know what's what, my 
 boy, although you are so prodigious close. 
 It is only Mr. Lushington and I that are 
 going — he is very much taken up just 
 now with some money transactions with 
 the De Eothschilds' bank, at Naples ; so 
 we are going there to settle it all. In- 
 deed I believe that is what brought Mr. 
 
 I. L
 
 146 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Lusliington back to Italy just now ; for, 
 between you and me, I do not think lie is 
 very fond of foreign parts. He is not 
 allowed, you know, to write much at 
 present, because of that fulness in his 
 head; so he brought me with him for 
 that purpose — not for the sight-seeing 
 certainly ; but really I don't so much care 
 about all that ; one place is very much 
 the same as another, and they have capital 
 cooks here, I must say, and, for my part, 
 I rather like those light wines, which I 
 have heard so much abused." 
 
 Bishop Baines' sermon at Jesu and 
 Maria, and Vespers at St. Peter's, were 
 again that evening discussed, for next day's 
 (Sunday's) business, precisely as doubts 
 between the play and the opera for the 
 next evening's amusement might have 
 been. 
 
 " A"\"liat will 3^ou do, Eustace ?" Lucy 
 inquired. 
 
 Eustace hesitated for a minute, and 
 then said, ''If there is afternoon service
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 147 
 
 at the English place of worship, I think I 
 shall go there." 
 
 " Bless me I" exclaimed Mrs. Lushing- 
 ton. " Well, that vrill be going to church 
 w4th a vengeance I And do you mean to 
 go in the morning too ?" 
 
 '' Of course," rephed he, gathering 
 corn-age as he spoke ; '' I suppose all will 
 do that." 
 
 '' I suppose all will do as they judge 
 best," said Mrs. Lushington, rather sharply; 
 and then, fearing apparently that she had 
 gone too far, she added, " Church is no 
 doubt a very good thing, especially in the 
 country, as it is right to set an example 
 to the poor people who have nothing 
 better they can do than go ; and I always 
 make it a point to attend once a day at 
 Elsmere Manor. But here at Eome, it is 
 quite different ; and as for afternoon ser- 
 vice, really if one has been in the morning, 
 it is so much the same thing, almost word 
 for word, that I cannot, I must own, see 
 any use in hurrying away before one has
 
 148 THE OLD GREY CHURCH 
 
 half done luncheon, to beo^in it all over 
 again. In short, I call that a methodistical 
 parade of religion, which I will always set 
 my face against. But, as I said before, every 
 one to their liking, /(and Mrs. Lushington 
 laid a great stress upon the letter /), I 
 don't presume to dictate to any one !" 
 
 Sunday came : Mr. Lushington said he 
 had letters to write, and Mrs. Lushington 
 thouglit she had headache coming on, so 
 both declared their intention of staying at 
 home. Eustace looked earnestly at Lucy. 
 He had anticipated so much pleasure in 
 their being once again at church together — 
 once more uniting in prayer at the throne 
 of Grace — for he now was more sensible 
 of the blessing of that privilege than he 
 formerly had been, and he felt as if it 
 would do him good, compose his mind, and 
 even strengthen him in his good resolu- 
 tions. 
 
 "I suppose, mamma, I can go, though 
 you do not," said Lucy, as she observed 
 Eustace's anxious, imploring look, and
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 149 
 
 really wishing to please him, although, it 
 must be confessed, rather wondering at his 
 extreme anxiety on the subject ; '' Eeid, 
 you know, can go with me." 
 
 " Most certainly not,'' was Mrs. Lushing- 
 ton's short reply. " Lady Eainsforth said 
 the other day (and I am sure I quite agree 
 mth her), that the English chmx'h here 
 (though dignified by that name) is no more 
 than a common hayloft, and that it is perfect 
 nonsense calling it a chmxh; and as /think 
 it positively wrong to have one's place of 
 worship in such a pokey hole, and such an 
 out-of-the-way place, as if one was ashamed 
 of one's rehgion (which I am proud to say 
 I am not), I will not any more countenance 
 such disrespect to it by going there." And 
 Mrs. Lushington, apparently much pleased 
 with her religious sentiments, looked round 
 for applause. " And besides," she added, 
 " it is so hot and uncomfortable ; all sorts 
 of people jumbled together anyhow, not 
 having an idea who one's next neighbour 
 is, and the seat so hard, and no hassocks,
 
 150 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 and such a fuss about getting places at all, 
 that altogether, I rather think I shall do 
 what Lady Eainsforth says she means to 
 do, which is not to go there any more. At 
 all events, I shall keep myself for Vespers 
 at St. Peter's this afternoon. I have never 
 yet heard that famous singer with the won- 
 derful voice, whom all are talking about, 
 and they say it is quite beautiful ; and I 
 believe there is nothing wrong in what 
 they sing. On the contrary-, that it is all 
 very religious, and something like our 
 Psalms ; and at any rate, as one don't un- 
 derstand a w^ord of it, it don't so much 
 signify what it is." 
 
 Eustace went alone to church that morn- 
 ing. If Lucy did not accompany him, he 
 wished for no other companion ; indeed he 
 felt so little disposed for communion with 
 any of his other fellow-creatures, that, 
 fearful of falling in with any of Mrs. Lush- 
 ington's fashionable friends, he made his 
 way by a circuitous route to that building 
 outside the gates of Eome (which so
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 151 
 
 sKocked Mrs. Lushington's religions feel- 
 ings), then fitted np as a temporary place 
 of worship, nntil permission was obtained 
 from the Pope to erect one more commo- 
 dious and suited to the purpose. Eustace's 
 heart was sad, as he pursued his way 
 thither alone, and it was stiU sadder when 
 he alone returned : for there is a peculiar 
 feeling of loneliness, which comes over us 
 when attendino- Divine service in a strano-e 
 place, when among the hundreds around, 
 there is not one familiar face — not one 
 being, who is even aware of our existence, 
 and where consequently no one is praying 
 for us, or with us. 
 
 Eustace, on his retm-n to the hotel, went 
 straight up to the sitting-room. He found 
 Lucy there alone. She was buried in an 
 arm-chair, with a book in her hand, in 
 which she was apparently so entirely ab- 
 sorbed, that she did not even hear the 
 opening of the door. Eustace was there- 
 fore almost close to her, before she was 
 even aware of his entrance.
 
 152 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " liow you have made me start ! " she 
 exclaimed, when she at length perceived 
 him. " I never heard you come in. Where 
 have you been? What have you been 
 doing ?" 
 
 " AVhere have I been?'* said Eustace, 
 rather shortly, " why I have been to 
 church." 
 
 '' Oh yes, by-the-by, I had forgot — how 
 stupid ! Well ! and how did you like Mr. 
 Burgess? for I believe he generally 
 preaches there." 
 
 " I thought his sermon very impressive, 
 and peculiarly useful, I should suppose 
 here at Eome." 
 
 " Oh, it was all against the Eoman 
 Catholics, I conclude," said Lucy, " for I 
 am told he is always preaching at them." 
 
 " It was against the errors of Eomanism, 
 not at individuals." 
 
 " Oh !" said Lucy, rather vacantly, her 
 thoughts evidently being far away from 
 Mr. Burgess and his sermon; and then, 
 after a moment's pause, she suddenly ex-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 153 
 
 claimed, with much energy of tone and 
 manner, '' Oh Eustace, you must try and 
 find time while you are here to read this 
 book ! It is so beautiful, so interesting ! 
 and indeed, I think so very instructive ; 
 and it is at Eome that it should be read, 
 for all its merits to be fully appreciated." 
 
 " What is this beautiful book ?" said 
 Eustace, as he held out his hand for it ; 
 but instead of giving it to him, Lucy drew 
 the volume still closer to herself 
 
 "It is not, perhaps, quite a Sunday 
 hooh,'' said she, colouring, and still keep- 
 ing hold of it as if now afraid of his seeing 
 what her studies were. "It is (don't be 
 shocked) — it is Corinne !" 
 
 " Corinne !" repeated Eustace, with 
 evident chagrin on his countenance, " iN'o, 
 indeed, that is not a Sunday book." And 
 Neville's question, " Is she a child of 
 Grod ?" again rushed painfully to his mind. 
 
 Both were silent for a minute or two. 
 At length, Lucy, in rather a discomposed 
 tone and manner, said, " Do you then mean
 
 154 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 that we are to do notliing all Sunday but 
 read tlie Bible from morning till night ?" 
 
 " Why, I really don't know that one 
 can do better, if unable to go to church," 
 said Eustace ; " but surely there is a wide 
 difference between the Bible and Corinne f" 
 
 " Yes, perhaps there is," said Lucy, 
 colouring still more deeply. Then, after a 
 moment's pause, starting suddenly from 
 her seat, " There," said she, " to show you 
 I am not quite as bad as I strongly suspect 
 you think me — there, I won't read any 
 more of it, at least not to-day ,•" and closing 
 the book, she ran and replaced the volume 
 on its shelf beside the others. "There, 
 am I not good ? will you not forgive me ?" 
 and, as she passed Eustace's chair, to re- 
 turn to the one she had been occupying, 
 she playfully held out her hand to him. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, dear, dear 
 Lucy !" he exclaimed, as he grasped it be- 
 tween both of his, "thank you from the 
 very bottom of my heart. You do not know 
 the pleasure you have given me, the good
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 15 
 
 00 
 
 you have done me, and how very, very 
 grateful I am to you !" 
 
 " There, now we are friends again, are 
 we not ?" said Lucy, with a half-joking, 
 half-beseeching smile. " But you must 
 o^Ti, Corinne is a beautiful book, and even 
 a very edifying one on any of the seven 
 days of the week, but Sunday." 
 
 Eustace took no notice of this last re- 
 mark ; indeed at that moment he hardly 
 dared trust himself to speak at all. 
 
 In a little while, however, having by a 
 strong effort gained sufficient courage, but 
 still without venturing to look at her, he 
 said, " Lucy, do you ever attend the 
 Sacrament now ?" 
 
 She looked up, apparently startled, and 
 did not immediately answer ; at length she 
 slowly said, " Yes, sometimes of course, 
 but not very lately — not since we have 
 been abroad.'' 
 
 " Mr. Burgess gave it out for next 
 Sunday," he continued, still mthout look- 
 ing at her. " Would you go next Sunday,
 
 156 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Lucy ? would you go with me ? it would 
 make me so very, very happy, and we may 
 not perhaps again ! — he stopped short, a 
 deep sigh affecting his voice, and prevent- 
 ing him from proceeding in what he was 
 about to say. But in a minute he re- 
 sumed — " You know my stay here will be 
 very short, and one can so little look for- 
 ward — we may not be again together, and 
 it would give me such very, very great 
 pleasure, make me so happy." — Still Lucy 
 was silent. — " Lucy, pray answer me !" he 
 said, with increased earnestness. — Lucy's 
 face was averted, and she seemed occupied 
 tracing the pattern of the carpet with her 
 foot. At length she abruptly said, 
 " Surely, Eustace, you did not formerly 
 think so much about all these religious — 
 religious things /" she added (evidently at 
 a loss for a word), ^'as you do now; I 
 think it must be your nameless serious 
 friend who has put them into your head." 
 " Perhaps you are partly right there," 
 he replied, " but remember, since we
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 157 
 
 parted I have liad another and most per- 
 suasive friend to warn and instruct me, in 
 the shape of a dangerous illness. I have 
 looked Death in the face, and that is a 
 sight calculated to call a man to his senses, 
 and make him see the />a.s/ and the future 
 in a very different light from what he did 
 hefore; and I want you, dear Lucy, to 
 henefit by my experience. We have both 
 of us, I fear, been very thoughtless, — I 
 most culpably so." 
 
 '*You! — In what way?" inquired 
 Lucy, looking up in alarm. " What have 
 you done ?" 
 
 " Before I go away I must speak to you, 
 Lucy," he replied, " I must open my heart 
 to you ; but somehow now I feel we are so 
 estranged — it is all so different !" 
 
 Lucy's hand was lying on the table 
 beside her ; Eustace laid his upon it. 
 
 '' Lucy, you will think of my request, 
 will you not? you would make me so 
 happy ! and" — 
 
 At that moment the door of the room
 
 158 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 opened, and tlie laquais de place an- 
 nounced Lady Emily Maxwell and Sir 
 Alexander Melville. 
 
 Eustace hastily started up, and the deep 
 crimson in Lucy's cheeks showed plainly 
 how much their entrance had discomposed 
 her. 
 
 " Dear me !" said Lady Emily, laugh- 
 ing, " I am afraid we are disturbing a 
 very interesting tete-a tete, or is Mr. Grey 
 making you confess all your dreadful 
 offences ?" 
 
 " Oh no !" said Lucy, attempting also 
 to laugh ; " he was only" — and she stop- 
 ped short. 
 
 As for Eustace, he at that moment 
 completely lost all presence of mind, and 
 was totally unable to recall his thoughts, 
 or think of a single thing to say, or ex- 
 cuse to make for his own and Lucy's 
 agitation. 
 
 On entering the room. Sir Alexander 
 had given him one short, distant bow of 
 recognition, and then pushed past him,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 159 
 
 taking possession of a chair on the other 
 side of Lucy. 
 
 " Well, Miss Lushington," he said, as 
 he seated himself in it, *' here we are to 
 our appointment, but you seem otherwise 
 engaged, I think. I hope nothing has 
 occurred to make you change your mind 
 with regard to Yespers at St. Peter's ? has 
 Mr. Grrey been suggesting any more edify- 
 ing arrangement for this sabbath after- 
 noon : 
 
 " Oh no, not at all," replied Lucy, in a 
 hurried manner. 
 
 " It was all settled, I think, that we 
 were to go to St. Peter's, but is it not too 
 soon for Yespers ?" 
 
 " I thought, I — " and poor Lucy stop- 
 ped, quite unable to say what she thought 
 about anything; she felt so thoroughly 
 put out. 
 
 " Oh, I know it is too early for Yespers," 
 said Lady Emily, " but it is such a beau- 
 tiful day, I thought we might take a walk 
 on the Pincio first."
 
 160 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " Oh yes, very well," stammered out 
 Lucy. " I will go and look for mamma, 
 and see what she says," and she hurried out 
 of the room. 
 
 Eustace followed her, for he was quite 
 unable any longer to comm.and his temper. 
 
 " 'Wi^you not come with us, Eustace ?" 
 said Lucy, in a beseeching tone, when 
 they had reached the passage. " Do come, 
 jyray /" 
 
 " No, not now — not now. I really can- 
 not — I had better not. But by-and-by, 
 perhaps, I will join you if I can ; and I 
 suppose I shall still find you at St. Peter's 
 after afternoon service ?" 
 
 " Oh don't look so unlike yourself," 
 said Lucy, tears starting to her eyes ; 
 " don't be angry with me, for I can't bear 
 that, and try for my sake and not be angry 
 with — with anybody /" 
 
 Eustace turned and gave her a look that 
 went to her heart — and then hurried down 
 stairs, and out of the house. 
 
 " That cousin of yours is a very odd
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 161 
 
 person, Miss Luskington, is lie not ?" said 
 Sir Alexander, when Lucy, equipped for 
 tlieir expedition, re-entered the sitting- 
 room. " Eather formidable, I think ? — Is 
 he in the army or navy ?" 
 
 " He is at Oxford," said Lucy, " study- 
 ing for the Church." 
 
 " Ah, I thought so ; I was sure he 
 somehow belonged to Oxford ! I saw it at 
 once in his countenance ; and I suspect he 
 thinks us all sad reprobates, and on the 
 high road to the devil, does he not, Miss 
 Lusliington ? And he has been giving you 
 a lecture on the impropriety of your con- 
 duct, am I not right ? He reaUy puts me 
 in mind of Eaphael's Cartoon of St. Paul 
 preaching at Athens, he looks so angry 
 with us all !" 
 
 Lucy tried to laugh, but could not. 
 
 VOL. J. M
 
 162 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 Ned Watson's information respecting Mr. 
 Lushington's expedition to Naples proved 
 to be quite correct, and they set off to- 
 gether in the course of the following week ; 
 the former well prepared for his journey 
 into a new country, by having provided 
 himself with a first-rate travelling cap, 
 peculiarly adapted to his carriage slum- 
 bers. 
 
 Everything went on much the same as 
 before at Serny's hotel. Sunday came 
 round again, and again Eustace went 
 alone to the Protestant church, and alone 
 attended the Sacrament. 
 
 Vespers at St. Peter's (that is to say, 
 the voices of the singers, the performers 
 on the different instruments, and the com-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 168 
 
 pany assembled to hear them) having all 
 been duly discussed the previous Sunday, 
 it Tvas agreed to see what Bishop Baines 
 had to say for himself the next, and 
 Eustace accompanied Lucy and her cha- 
 perone, Lady Emily, to the Jesu and 
 Maria, where they were very soon joined 
 by Sir Alexander Melville. The preacher, 
 in the strongest, but, at the same time, 
 most Christian-like spirit and language, 
 put before his Protestant hearers (most 
 of whom were of com'se English) the 
 insult which they offered to religion in 
 general, and especially to the Christian 
 rehgion (which they professed), when fre- 
 quenting the Eoman Catholic places of 
 worship, and attending its most sacred 
 ceremonies with so much levity and im- 
 piety of demeanour. He reminded them, 
 that although their rehgious forms were 
 different, it was the same Creator, the 
 same Redeemer they adored, and that it 
 was the same holy temple set apart for 
 the service of the one, same God, which 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 thej desecrated by their irreverent be- 
 haviour. 
 
 " Condemn our ceremonies," said the 
 preacher, " and reject our pecuhar faith, 
 but do not frequent our places of worship, 
 in order to wound our feehngs by turn- 
 ing what Ave hold sacred into ridicule." 
 
 He did not touch on any of those points 
 in which Protestants and Roman Catho- 
 lics differ ; he merely demanded respect 
 for religion in general, and especially for 
 the name of Christ. 
 
 Eustace's attention was riveted on the 
 preacher. His earnestness, and, at the 
 same time, the truly Christian mildness 
 of his address impressed him with the 
 deepest feelings of reverence — and al- 
 though a most decided Protestant in 
 heart and faith, Eustace could not but 
 entirely agree with Bishop Baines in 
 condemning those of his countrymen, 
 who bring disgrace on the very name of 
 Protestant and Englishmen, by their sa- 
 crilegious ridicule of what their brethren
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 165 
 
 in Christ the Eoman Catholics hold 
 sacred. 
 
 The expressive countenance of Eustace 
 plainly showed how much his attention 
 had heen riveted, and his feelings touched 
 — and Lucy looked at him with evident 
 satisfaction, apparently considering his ap- 
 probation of the preacher as some con- 
 cession on his part to her less strict Pro- 
 testant opinions. 
 
 " Well, Eustace, " said she, eagerly, as 
 soon as they had quitted the church, " are 
 you not dehghted with Bishop Eaines? 
 His voice, his manner, and his aj)pearance 
 are all so interesting, so like what one 
 fancies of one of the apostles ! so pic- 
 turesque, I quite long to draw him !" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Sir Alexander ; "he 
 is remarkably well got uj?, he looks his 
 part admu'ably; he (according to what 
 you ladies say) dresses very well ; but, 
 notwithstanding all that stage effect, I 
 beg leave to say, if he and his colleagues, 
 his Holiness at the head of them, choose
 
 166 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 to play absurd, ridiculous tricks, and make 
 fools of themselves, I sliall take tlie liberty 
 of laughing at them, let the bishop say 
 what he pleases." 
 
 " I am very glad T heard this sermon/' 
 said Eustace, gravely, ''and I trust I shall 
 remember his admonitions." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad !" said Lucy ; " per- 
 haps now, then, you will come to Yespers 
 at St. Peter's next Sunday afternoon." 
 
 " Oh, that is quite another thing," said 
 Eustace, smiling ; "I do not think the 
 music there, however beautiful, will teach 
 me my duty either to God or man. In- 
 deed by going to Yespers at St. Peter's, 
 I should do the very thing Bishop Baines 
 has been condemning — desecrating their 
 religious rites, by converting the Church 
 of God into a place of worldly amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " Oh, pray, for mercy's sake !" exclaimed 
 Sir Alexander, " do not let us have a 
 second sermon from Bishop Grey ; one in 
 an afternoon is really quite enough, even to
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 167 
 
 satisfy him, I should have thought. I 
 propose, on the contrary, that we should 
 try and blow off the effects of the first 
 lecture, by driving to the Pamfihi Doria, 
 to look at St. Peter's in all the glories of 
 a setting sun, which, to my mind, is a 
 much better sermon than any wliich 
 Bishop Baines, or the Pope himself, can 
 get up ; and it will have the additional 
 advantage of being shorter than most 
 sermons are, for the sun is getting low, 
 so we must not dawdle." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Lucy, eagerly ; '' Eus- 
 tace has not been there yet, and the view 
 is beautiful, particularly at sunset." 
 
 Lady Emily also readily agreed, and 
 her carriage, which was the one in at- 
 tendance, being called up, she, Lucy, and 
 Mr. Maxwell got in, Eustace being then 
 at Lucy's side ; but Sn Alexander had 
 ordered it otherwise, and following close 
 behind Mr. Maxwell—" WiU you admit 
 me as an agreeable fourth?" he said, 
 and Avithout waiting for an answer, he
 
 168 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 sprang into the carriage, the door was 
 shut, and they drove off. 
 
 The blood rose to Eustace's face, and 
 he bit his Hp with vexation. 
 
 " Oh, but Eustace !" he heard Lucy 
 exclaim, as the carriage started, and she 
 looked anxiously after him. He could 
 have stopped the driver, and taken pos- 
 session of the empty seat beside him; 
 but he was too angr}^, and, at that mo- 
 ment, too proud ,• and he walked on 
 scarcely knowing wliither he went, till he 
 found himself amid the ruins of the Forum, 
 his favourite soHtary walk. By degrees his 
 passion cooled ; he repeated to himself 
 Lucy's last words — " OA, hut Eustace ! '' 
 he recalled her anxious look ; he remem- 
 bered her former petition to him — " To 
 try and not be angry with anybody ; " 
 and he subdued his temper ! But never 
 had such Christian forbearance cost him 
 so much effort — never before had ]3ride, 
 in his gentle nature, contended so fiercely 
 for the mastery.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 169 
 
 Whether in consequence of any jealous 
 feeling, or merely from the general wish 
 to torment, Sir Alexander was evidently 
 always bent on separating Lucy and 
 Eustace, and in consequence was con- 
 tinually suggesting (apparently for that 
 purpose) expeditions on horseback into 
 the Campagna and other distant excur- 
 sions in the neighbourhood, from whicb 
 poor Eustace was necessarily excluded : 
 his purse, although replenished by Mrs. 
 Grrey, previous to liis departure, to the 
 very utmost of her means, not allowing 
 of his hhing horses and conveyances ; and 
 therefore many a day, when he saw Lucy 
 gallop off with her new friends to some 
 of the interesting objects in the vicinity 
 of Eom.e, Eustace was left to take his 
 sohtary rambles among its ruins. 
 
 And most delightful those rambles 
 would have been to him, had his mind 
 been more at hberty to enjoy them. But 
 when Lucy was out of his sight, she 
 was more than ever present to his
 
 170 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 tliouglits, and many an evening when 
 tliey met, after their separate clay's ex- 
 cursions, Eustace could hardly tell where 
 he had been, or what he had seen ; and it 
 was a chance he did not answer Lucy's in- 
 quiries by, — " I have been to the dear 
 old grey church at Elsmere Manor." 
 
 Thus the days — indeed the weeks — 
 flew by, with more or less of pleasure, 
 more or less of trial, to Eustace ; and, as 
 the period named for his return to Eng- 
 land with his intended fellow-traveller, 
 Ned Watson, drew near, those his mind's 
 wanderings to the churchyard at Elsmere 
 became more and more frequent. 
 
 For nearer and nearer approached the 
 time for his dreaded confession to his 
 uncle ; and, in consequence, of his probable 
 final separation from Luc}^ when he would 
 also have the misery of leaving her in the 
 hands of those her new careless worldly 
 friends, with no one to guard her from 
 their pernicious influence ; and, what was 
 worse than all, in daily intercourse with
 
 THE OLD GRUY CHURCH. 171 
 
 tliat odious Sir Alexander Melville, whose 
 wish to make himself agreeable to her 
 was, to poor Eustace's jealous fancy, quite 
 evident, and at the sound of whose name 
 and voice his very blood now curdled, 
 from the dread of not having sufficient 
 command over his temper, when treated 
 by him with a sort of careless, easy im- 
 pertinence, much more difficult to bear 
 than open insult ; any resentment or re- 
 taliation only making the victim of it 
 appear ridiculous.
 
 172 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 It was now holy week, and the last of 
 Eustace's stay at Eome. Mr. Lushington 
 and liis companion had returned from 
 Naples, and immediately after the sights 
 of Easter Day, Eustace and Ned Watson 
 were together to commence their journey 
 home. 
 
 Eustace attended, sometimes alone, 
 sometimes with Lucy and her friends, the 
 various ceremonies taking place at this 
 time at Eome, as a study of the Eoman 
 Cathohc rehgion, few of which impressed 
 him ^ith awe or devotion. All such feel- 
 ings, however, are rendered impossible by 
 the u'reverent behaviour of the many 
 foreigners who visit them in precisely the 
 same spirit which they would a common
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 173 
 
 drama on the stas^e. But after all, in 
 what do thej differ from such scenic 
 representations ? and in what direct con- 
 tradiction is such mere theatrical religion 
 to our Lord's own words, " God is a 
 spirit, and he is to be worshipped in spirit 
 and in truth !" 
 
 On the Thursday (the evening before 
 Good Friday) all the party at Serni's went 
 to see (among the many other rehgious cere- 
 monies pecuhar to this season) the wash- 
 ing of the pilgrims' feet at the Pellegrini 
 de la Trinita, where fully two hundi-ed pil- 
 grims, from Germany and different parts 
 of Italy, are fed and lodged, during the 
 three days and nights previous to the 
 benediction, and plenary indulgences be- 
 stowed upon them by the Pope on Easter 
 Sunday. 
 
 At this convent the pilgrims are seated 
 in rows, waited upon, and their feet 
 washed, by persons of all ranks, and aU in 
 precisely the same dress, — a black gown 
 and wliite apron and cap ; so that the
 
 174 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 princess, even of royal blood, and her 
 servant, are not to be distinguislied from 
 each other, all performing the same menial 
 office for these wandering pilgrims, who 
 are of the lowest grades of society, and 
 certainly not particularly inviting in their 
 persons. 
 
 '' What horrid humbug !" exclaimed Sir 
 Alexander. " This is stage effect indeed ! 
 and beats even Bishop Baines, with his 
 sanctified looks and picturesque costume. 
 Such an ostentation of humility and 
 charity !" 
 
 " I must own I do not see any appear- 
 ance of ostentation in it," said Eustace ; 
 for no one is to be recognised. The ser- 
 vant may identify her titled mistress in 
 the kneeUng figure next to her, performing 
 the same act of humility, but no one else 
 can. I allow it is an absurd, mistaken, 
 literal interpretation of an injunction in- 
 tended for a principle of action for every 
 day and moment of om- lives, and which, 
 therefore, cannot be fulfilled by one act of
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 175 
 
 humiliation one day in the year ; but I do 
 not think it is Christian charity on our 
 part to condemn those who make the 
 mistake of being guilty of ostentation. I 
 think one is rather inclined to pity their 
 narrow-minded ignorance ; and they have 
 quite errors enough to answer for, without 
 imputing to them motives they have not." 
 " And so you really admu'e all this 
 humbug ?" rejoined Sir Alexander, with 
 a most provoking, contemptuous smile. 
 " Oh, my good friend, I am sorry to see 
 you so very far gone ; and I shall not be 
 at all surprised to hear soon of your dis- 
 covering that your salvation depends on 
 imitating these worthies, with their tubs 
 and towels ! I beg I may be duly in- 
 formed when the ceremony is to take 
 place, as I should like of all things to see 
 you, with your shht sleeves tucked up, 
 working away at some tramping beg- 
 gar's dirty feet ; but I strongly advise 
 you to adopt the precaution even his 
 Holiness does for the sake of his stomach.
 
 176 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 and take care to have them well scoured 
 first. I dare say you will set the fashion 
 at Oxford on your return, and that we 
 shall hear of all the big-wigs there turned 
 washerwomen." 
 
 There are few things more trying to 
 the temper than being accused of holding 
 opinions totally contrary to the truth, and 
 in a sort of supercilious tone and manner, 
 which renders formal denial ridiculous 
 and absurd, and yet to which silence ap- 
 pears to give consent, or, at least, which 
 seems to confess we have nothing to say 
 in our own defence. The latter impres- 
 sion, Eustace was, however, determined, 
 should not, at all events, be left on the 
 mind of Lucy ; so summoning courage, 
 he said, " "Whatever I might have thought 
 of the Eoman Catholic religion before 
 coming to Eome, having now been be- 
 hind the scenes, and seen all the ropes 
 and pulleys by which the stage effect is 
 produced, I certainly should not say ' see- 
 ing is believing ' — quite the contrary."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 177 
 
 '' I do not know what you mean about 
 ropes and pulleys/' said Mrs. Lushington, 
 " for I can't say I have seen any ; but I 
 cannot but agree with Sir Alexander in 
 thinking this feet- washing is not so ver}' 
 fine; on the contrary, it strikes me as 
 very dirty. Whj could not all these 
 ladies in their black gowns, if they wished 
 to be kind to those trampers, have given 
 each of them a bit of soap and an old 
 towel, and let them go and make them- 
 selves decently clean at some public-house 
 near before they came to dinner ? I, for my 
 part, however, make it a rule never to 
 give anything to trampers, for it is only 
 encouraging begging and idleness ; and I 
 wonder the Pope don't at once put all this 
 sort of tiling down, for I suppose he could. 
 Well, now I think we have had enough 
 of aU this slopping and scrubbing, and T 
 propose going home, as we are to begin 
 our sight-seeing again so early to-morrow 
 morning; though if to-morrow's sights are 
 no more worth seeing than this evening's, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 I don't mucli think I shall be at the 
 trouble." 
 
 In the way home, the carriage had to 
 stop to make way for a procession in 
 honour of the Virgin, that is, of a hideous 
 dressed-up doll, all bedizened with mock 
 jewels and tinsel. 
 
 " I suppose you think this, too, very 
 edifying," said Sir Alexander, addressing 
 Eustace in the same supercilious, pro- 
 voking manner. But he, finding his 
 temper again rising, wisely took no notice 
 of the remark. 
 
 "Well, I declare," said Mrs. Lush- 
 ington, " I think this very pretty ; the 
 flowers, and the girls with their white 
 veils, and the little flags ; and if the poor 
 creatures like to worship the Virgin, why 
 should they not ? I am sure it does no 
 one any harm, and you must own it has 
 fall as much sense in it as our Jack-in- 
 the-Green, and May-day Queen, and all 
 that sort of thing, and it is not so noisy 
 and vulgar."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 179 
 
 It was impossible not to laugh at the 
 strange confusion in Mrs. Lushington's 
 mind, between the religious procession 
 in honour of the Virgin, and our old 
 English saturnalia in honour of May-day, 
 both which seemed to be considered by 
 her in the same rehgious light ; but the 
 extreme ignorance and absurdity of her 
 remarks was of use at the moment, as it 
 served to check Sir Alexander's ever- 
 ready persecution of Eustace. 
 
 When the party reached the hotel, the 
 latter (knowing that the usual visitors 
 were again to meet that evening in Mrs. 
 Lushington's apartments), instead of ac- 
 companying the rest up-stairs, wandered 
 away by himself, wishing to "commune 
 with his own heart and be still," endea- 
 vouring to find, amid the many open 
 places of worship, something which would 
 impress him with the feehngs of devotion 
 so grateful to a chafed spirit ; but in most 
 he found only that same sort of theatrical 
 representation going on, from which he 
 
 N 2
 
 ISO THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 turned away in disgust. At length lie 
 passed the foot of a flight of steps lead- 
 ing into a church dimly lit, for, except in 
 one spot in the centre of the building, 
 there was no Hght at all. He entered, 
 and as he approached the place from 
 w^hence the Hght proceeded, he saw, ex- 
 t-ended on the pavement, a representation, 
 as large as life, of the dead Saviour ; the 
 blood seeming still quite fresh in the 
 wounds of his lacerated hands and feet, 
 and an expression of agonizing pain con- 
 tracting the features. The lamps which 
 were burning round this figure, were the 
 only hght in the church ; and at different 
 distances around, were about a dozen per- 
 sons kneehng on the pavement, many 
 scarcely visible in the deep gloom of the 
 building, all apparently entirely absorbed 
 in prayer, so that no one seemed to notice 
 the entrance of Eustace : there was no ofii- 
 ciating priest — no ceremonial form going 
 on — not a sound to be heard. Eustace 
 was deeply impressed by the scene before
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 181 
 
 him, and scarcely knowing what he did, 
 by a sudden impulse, he, too, sank upon 
 his knees, for to one like him, in a manner 
 new to strong rehgious feelings, the effect 
 was most impressive. The weU-repre- 
 sented lifeless body — the stUl bleeding 
 wounds — wounds endured for him ! " Can 
 it be that we Protestants are in error," 
 thought Eustace, " and that this rehgion 
 of the senses is, after all, right, as better 
 fitted to our fallen nature, or is it a 
 temptation of Satan ?" He was painfiiUy 
 bewildered in mind, and so nervously 
 excited, he dared not even turn again 
 towards the figure. 
 
 When, at length, he became more cahn, 
 he called to mind how that wounded 
 Saviour had parried the temptations of 
 Satan by the Word of Grod; he remem- 
 bered that one of the first of the Di^^ne 
 commands forbids our making to ourselves 
 ANT graven image, the likeness of any 
 thing either in heaven or earth, and of 
 falling down to worship it. He remem-
 
 182 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 bered, too, the prophet Isaiah's description 
 of the FOLLY of idol worship — " They that 
 make a graven image are all of them 
 vanity, and their delectable things shall 
 not profit. A man heweth down a cedar 
 tree ; of part he maketh a graven image, 
 and falleth down thereto ; he burneth part 
 in the fire, and warmeth himself; and of 
 the residue thereof, he maketh a god, even 
 his graven image, and falleth down nnto 
 it, and worshippeth it, and saith unto it, 
 Deliver me, for thou art my god." 
 
 The momentary efiect produced upon 
 Eustace's senses and imagination by this 
 striking scene, had passed away, and what 
 had at first impressed him with so much 
 awe, now struck him as an impious pro- 
 fanation of all that was most sacred. The 
 thought of the sacrilegious hands which 
 had presumed to fashion the form of 
 Him who is invisible in the highest hea- 
 vens, and who dwells in light which no 
 human eyes can reach unto, or look 
 upon, quite horrified liim.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 1S3 
 
 Still Eustace knelt ; but now he wor- 
 shipped " in spirit and in truth." He 
 faintly murmured to himself, '"I know 
 that my Eedeemer liveth/ and I must 
 seek liim not here fashioned by men's 
 hands, but at the right hand of God, 
 ' where He ever liveth to make interces- 
 sion for me ' — yes, even for me, his poor, 
 weak, erring creature." 
 
 Long and fervent were the prayers 
 Eustace then offered up, for himself, and 
 for her he so loved, and whom he knew to 
 be set in the midst of so many and great 
 dangers. He did not pray to have his 
 earthly wishes granted, he left all to the 
 will of his heavenly Father ; and so fervent 
 had been his prayers, and his mind so 
 raised above this world, that the calm and 
 even happy expression of his countenance 
 struck Lucy on his return to the hotel. 
 
 " Wliere have you been ?" said she, as 
 she looked upon his placid features. "I 
 am sure you have seen something that 
 has pleased you."
 
 184 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " I have felt something that has pleased 
 me," he replied, " and I have planned 
 something for to-morrow evening wliich I 
 hope will please you, too. You have 
 often talked of going to see the Colosseum 
 by moonlight, and to-morrow evening the 
 moon will be in exactly the right state to 
 show off the ruins : try if you cannot get 
 that arranged. I have set my heart on 
 going there — with you," he added, in a 
 lower voice, and in a particularly earnest 
 tone ; " and my days, as you know, are 
 now so few. This is Friday, and your 
 father, I find, has fixed on Monday for 
 my traveUing-companion and myself to 
 leave Rome." 
 
 Lucy started. " So soon ! " she ex- 
 claimed, tears rushing into her eyes ; 
 " you seem but just come. It has been 
 terribly short. 1 am almost sorry now 
 you have come at all, it wiH be such a 
 blank !" 
 
 " Oh, Lucy, you have other friends 
 now to fill up the blank," said Eustace, in
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 1S5 
 
 rather a reproacliful tone. " It is not 
 like Elsmere, where you had no one else ! 
 Here I see so little of you, except when 
 surrounded by your new friends ; it is 
 hardly ever we are together, as at this 
 moment." For by this time, to Eustace's 
 inexpressible relief, all the usual evening 
 visitors had repaired to their separate 
 apartments in the hotel, and there was no 
 one in the room, except Mrs. Lushington, 
 extended on the sofa, and apparently 
 dreaming of wavsh-tubs^ May-day queens, 
 and Jack in the Green. 
 
 " Indeed, I must say, it is partly your 
 o^Ti fault, Eustace," said Lucy ; " you 
 are grown so — so — unsociable — so grave 
 — so unhke yourself" 
 
 " Perhaps I am," replied he, in a dejected 
 tone. Then, after a minute, " I must 
 speak to you, Lucy, before I go away. I 
 have something on my mind I must make 
 known to you before we part." 
 
 " I was sure of it," said Lucy, looking 
 earnestly and anxiously in his face, and
 
 186 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 laying lier hand on his arm ; " I was sure 
 something was wrong. Oh, Eustace, 
 what can it be ? tell me now." 
 
 " No, dearest, not now ;" and once 
 again he ventured to take that dear hand 
 in his, " but to-morrow evening, if you 
 will separate yourself from your neio 
 friends for a few moments, I will tell you 
 aU." 
 
 Almost unconsciously, Eustace had 
 spoken these words in a reproacliful tone, 
 laying a stress on the word neio. Lucy 
 felt it so, and was unable to reply. 
 
 " Eing the bell for candles," said Mrs. 
 Lushington, as, suddenly waking from 
 her slumbers, she left the couch ; " for I 
 am dead tired, and we may as well all go 
 to bed as sit stupid here." 
 
 Lucy started up from her seat, and 
 hurried to the further end of the room, 
 apparently busying herself with her draw- 
 ing books, in order to conceal her emo- 
 tion; for Eustace's words had filled her 
 with vague alarm, besides wounding her
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 1S7 
 
 feelings. When tliey parted for the night, 
 Eustace, as usual, held out his hand to 
 her, but it was just then more than Lucy's 
 nerves could stand, and, turning away 
 from him, she hastened to her own room, 
 without even giving him a parting look. 
 
 The visit to the Colosseum was arranged 
 for the next evening, as Eustace had pro- 
 posed. It was a lovely night ; the moon 
 shone brightly through fleecy clouds, 
 which, occasionally passing over it, only 
 made the efiect more beautiful, when she 
 came out clear in her full splendour, on a 
 sky, even at night, of such deep yet 
 brilliant blue, as no one can even imagine 
 who is not acquainted with an Italian 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Many had joined the projected evening 
 party, which was all the more favourable 
 for Eustace's plan of separating Lucy from 
 the rest, in order to obtain, at least, a few 
 minutes' private conversation with her; 
 for he felt he could not and should not 
 make his confession to her father with-
 
 188 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 out at least informing her of liis inten- 
 tion. 
 
 Sir Alexander, of course, as usual did 
 his best to counteract Eustace's wishes ; 
 but this evening he was resolved to secure 
 Lucy to himself, and, seizing her hand 
 the moment she had left the carriage, he 
 drew her arm within his, and in the first 
 confusion of settUng loho was to take care 
 of who, and of dispersing into the different 
 galleries of the ruin, he hurried her off, 
 and never stopped till the sound of voices 
 was no longer heard, and they reached the 
 centre of the arena, close to the large 
 stone cross, now standing where formerly 
 the Christian victims were abandoned to 
 the fury of the wild beasts, and at which 
 spot — being at that moment in deep 
 shade — they were secure from observation. 
 
 Poor Lucy trembled with agitation. 
 " What is it?" said she; " what can it 
 be you have to say to me ? I can't say 
 how you have alarmed me." 
 
 " Be composed," said Eustace, taking
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 1S9 
 
 lier passive hand ; " I have not any thing 
 very di-eadful to tell you — in fact, nothing 
 new, nothing you don't know already ; it 
 is rather a new light, in which I see what 
 has already occurred." Poor Eustace 
 stopped, for, in truth, he hardly knew 
 how to proceed, how to put in words, 
 what he had to say. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure it is something your 
 new friend has been putting into your 
 head, and frightening you about," said 
 Lucy ; " I wish with all my heart you 
 had never met with him ; for I am sure 
 he has been a cruel friend to you — indeed, 
 I must say to us both ! He has so 
 changed you !" 
 
 " Changed me ? " repeated Eustace ; 
 '' perhaps in some ways, but not in one, 
 Lucy ;" and he took her hand in both his 
 own, the next moment, however, hastily 
 putting it from him. '' But I did not 
 ask you to let me speak to you to-night, 
 in order to tell vou how dearly I love you 
 — that you know welL Luc v."
 
 190 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " But — but what?" she eagerly inquired, 
 becoming more and more nervous. 
 
 " But," resumed Eustace, gathering 
 courage as he spoke, " to say that I am 
 now aware that — that I should never have 
 told you, how with a love far sm^passing 
 a brother's love, I loved you." 
 
 " Why not ?" inquired Lucy, with the 
 most touching look of innocent, confiding 
 tenderness. 
 
 " Because," continued Eustace, speaking 
 very quick, " because I have drawn you 
 into a clandestine engagement; I have 
 gained your aifections — obtained your 
 word — all unknown to your parents. I 
 who have nothing in this world I can call 
 my own — who am a beggar, living, I may 
 say, on yom- father's charity, who, had he 
 known of my thus secretly securing your 
 affections, actually betrothing you as my 
 wife, would have turned me from his 
 door. Oh, Lucy ! I have sinned grie- 
 vously, sinned against you and my kind 
 benefactor ; and I have sinned almost past
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 191 
 
 reparation, for even now, so strongly 
 selfish is my affection, I can't help still 
 hoping that you love me, love one whom 
 you must be forbidden to think of any 
 more." 
 
 " Oh, dear Eustace !" exclaimed Lucy, 
 catching hold of his hand, and pressing it 
 within her own, " do not talk in this 
 odd way ; you extorted no promise from 
 me ; if you had, was I not ready to make 
 it? if you did wrong, so did I." 
 
 " No ! " replied Eustace ; " you so 
 young, so innocent, so trusting, ignorant 
 of so many things I should have thought 
 of; no, the blame is on me. But the past 
 cannot now be recalled ; all that remains 
 for me to do is to confess all, for such 
 deceit must not go on — all must be told. 
 I must not " — and Neville's solemn words 
 rushed to his memory — "I must not 
 engage in the sacred ministry, with false- 
 hood and treachery in my heart." 
 
 " Surely," said Lucy, almost frightened 
 at his vehemence, "you see all this in too
 
 192 THE OLD GREY CHLRCH. 
 
 strong, too serious a light. Oh, it is all 
 that cruel friend !" 
 
 " Oh, no I he is my real friend, Lucy. 
 I only wonder at my moral blindness, my 
 folly indeed, in not sooner seeing my con- 
 duct in the light I now do. But there is 
 no use in dwelling on the past — all that 
 remains for me now, is to make what 
 reparation I can by confessing my offence 
 to your father." 
 
 " To my father !" exclaimed Lucy, terror 
 depicted in her countenance ; " sm-ely you 
 will not do that ! Oh, pray consider how 
 stern, how awful he is when angry !" 
 
 " That is the very reason why I must 
 brave his anger. I had intended acknow- 
 ledging my offence before I arrived here, 
 but it was impossible. I was never alone 
 wdth him on the journey; then he went 
 immediately to ISTaples, and I was too 
 glad to catch at all those blessed reprieves, 
 as I felt these delays to be. But then 
 the longer the dreaded moment was put 
 Tfif, tlie more impossible the effort became ;
 
 6 
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 193 
 
 SO at last last I resolved not to attempt to 
 make mj confession by word of mouth, 
 but to write all to your father, when 
 I should leave Eome. And oh, Lucy ! 
 that moment is now come — only two 
 more days, and I shaU. be gone ! only 
 two more days, and I shall perhaps 
 never — " 
 
 At that moment, a loud burst of voices 
 and laughter, apparently not very far dis- 
 tant, made Lucy start up from her seat. 
 " Oh, they are coming ! let us go away 
 from here. I cannot just now face them," 
 she exclaimed, in alarm. 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Eustace, in a low 
 voice ; " they cannot see us ; wait till we 
 know what direction they take. — How 
 happy they all are !" he added, with a 
 deep sigh. " We were — / was — once as 
 happy, as gay ! but in my happiness I 
 forgot my duty, and so brought on my 
 own punishment." 
 
 " Don't speak! don't speak!" said Lucy. 
 Both were silent for a minute or two. 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 The sound of voices again died away, 
 and Eustace continued : "I have only one 
 consolation, that I extorted no promise 
 from you. That ring, which in my mad- 
 ness I put upon your finger, you are, you 
 know, at liberty to return whenever you 
 will ; then all will be as if it were not — 
 never had been ! Even now, Lucy, if you 
 repent, even now^ — " and he held out his 
 trembling hand towards her. 
 
 ''ISTever! never!" exclaimed Lucy, fer- 
 vently ; " how can you think — " 
 
 " You must not, you shall not say that 
 word, never. I must not listen to it," 
 Eustace continued, in a wild, excited man- 
 ner. '' The only amends I can make for 
 my past selfish, thoughtless conduct, is to 
 listen to no such expressions of affection 
 from you noio. I leave aU in the hands of 
 our Heavenly Father. If He sees fit. He 
 can bring even my heart's wildest desires 
 to pass ; if not — " Eustace's voice became 
 choked with emotion. 
 
 "Oh, Eustace!" exclaimed Lucy, "how
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 195 
 
 good you are ; far, far too good for me, I 
 fear/' 
 
 He did not seem to hear lier, but con- 
 tinued with his own thoughts. " In two 
 days we part ! in two short days ; and 
 when to meet again, Grod only knows ! I 
 shall, of course, no longer be permitted to 
 look on Elsmere as my home as formerly. 
 I shall, perhaps, be forbidden ever to see 
 you again. Oh ! my Grod, help me !" 
 
 At that moment, there arose amid the 
 ruins a chorus of voices, chanting the 
 Evening Hymn. The sounds thrilled to 
 the inmost soul of Eustace ; he fervently 
 clasped his hands together, as he joined in 
 the sacred words : — 
 
 " Teach me to lire, that I may dread 
 The grave as little as my bed ; 
 Teach me to die, that so I may 
 Eise glorious at the awful day." 
 
 As the last verse was sung, the sounds 
 grew more and more faint. " Lucy," 
 said Eustace, his voice still tremulous, 
 " you remember that evening above two 
 
 o 2
 
 196 THE OLD GKEY CHURCH. 
 
 years ago, when we sat together in the 
 churchyard at Elsmere ? It was then that, 
 in the thoughtless selfishness of my heart, 
 I took advantage of your ignorance — your 
 innocrnce — and spoke words which never 
 should have been spoken by me to you. 
 Here now, in presence of that cross," 
 pointing to the emblem of the Christian 
 hope, which rose in the middle of the 
 ruins, "before that cross, I now make 
 my confession. Oh ! may it be accepted, 
 and may I be forgiven." 
 
 Again sounds were heard approaching ; 
 Eustace even fancied he heard his name. 
 He started up, and almost convulsively 
 straining Lucy to his heart — " One parting 
 kiss from your old playfellow I" he ex- 
 claimed ; " and now farewell, dearest — 
 dearest Lucy, perhaps — " He could say 
 no more. Several of the gay party sud- 
 denly appeared issuing from one of the 
 arches of the ruin, all talking and laughing. 
 
 " Oh, there they are !" exclaimed a voice, 
 which always grated on the ear of Eustace.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 197 
 
 "There they are, and Miss Lnsliington, 
 no doubt, quite safe, for slie is under the 
 holy guidance of Pope Eustace the First, 
 who has, of course, been delivering to her 
 an edifying homily on the wickedness of 
 the heathens of yore ; who, as tradition 
 tells us, in this very place let loose the 
 wild heastises on poor St. Paul ! Oh no ! 
 by-the-by, I believe I am wrong, and be- 
 traying my want of clergy, and that it was 
 not at all St. Paul, nor was it here. But 
 no matter, it would equally serve as a text 
 to preach from, and from which to diverge 
 to the degenerate heathen Christians of the 
 present day, and all their naughty prac- 
 tices ; and so end with an exhortation to 
 ' come out from among them, and be 
 separate ;' and I am sure, Miss Lushing- 
 ton, you have most scrupulously conformed 
 to that injunction this evening, for we 
 have seen nothing of you since our arrival. 
 But every one seems agreed it has been a 
 charming party of pleasure, and I am sure 
 we all feel much indebted to Mr. Grrey for
 
 198 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 having suggested it ; and as lie seems so 
 capital a cicerone, I hope he will think of 
 something else equally agreeable to all'' 
 
 No one commented on this speech, and 
 Lucy suggesting to Lady Emily that it 
 was late, and that Mrs. Lushington would 
 be expecting them back, the carriages were 
 summoned, and the whole party left the 
 ruin. How, or with whom Eustace 
 went home, Lucy knew not, for she saw 
 nothing more of him that night.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 199 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 The first rays of the rising sun were just 
 tinging the top of Mount Soracte with 
 crimson, when Eustace, on the morning 
 after Easter Sunday, opened the door of 
 his ovni room at Serni's hotel, and slowly 
 walked along the corridor leading to the 
 other apartments belonging to Mr. Lush- 
 ington. There is something peculiarly 
 dismal in the profound silence of a house, 
 at that very early hour in the morning ; 
 the death-Hke quiet, the forlorn feeling of 
 loneliness and neglect, almost of banish- 
 ment ! Ko kind morning welcome — every 
 door closed to us ! As Eustace passed 
 that of Lucy's room, he stopped — he 
 clasped his hands together, and his Hps 
 moved. Again he passed on; but once
 
 200 THE OLD GUEY CHURCH. 
 
 more turned, as if taking a last farewell- 
 look at that closed door. He then hurried 
 on to the apartment where Mr. Lnshing- 
 ton usually sat and wrote. He went into 
 it, and deposited a sealed letter he had in 
 his hand on the writing-box which stood 
 on the table, beside other letters, which 
 had that morning come for his uncle by 
 the post. He then went on to the general 
 sitting-room. He stood still, and looked 
 round on every object, as if his memory 
 was taking an inventory of all its contents. 
 He opened Lucy's portfbho, gazing on 
 each drawing and sketch. Suddenly the 
 colour deepened on his cheek — he came to 
 one which seemed to have been a study of 
 a piece of the Colosseum, and apparently 
 taken very near the spot where they had 
 together sat on the previous Saturday 
 evening, the cross forming a prominent 
 featm-e in the foreground. At the corner 
 of the paper was Lucy's name, and a date, 
 February 17, 1828. It was the date of 
 his arrival at Eome. Tears stai'ted into
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 201 
 
 his eyes. " How soon it is all over !" he 
 ejaculated to himself. He sought for a 
 piece of blank paper ; and having wTitten 
 upon it, " Eustace, Easter-eve," he put it 
 in the place of the drawing, carrying off 
 his prize. As he was again tying up the 
 portfoho, his travelling companion, Ned 
 Watson, ready equipped, with his famous 
 traveUing-cap on his head, and carefully 
 muffled up with a large comforter round 
 his throat, entered. 
 
 " What a bore this getting up by day- 
 break is !" he exclaimed. " And I dare 
 say the fellow need not have called me for 
 an hour to come. They are so officious 
 when it is to be disagreeable, and I was 
 in such a famous snooze ! Oh, but by 
 jingo !" he added, looking out of the 
 window, "I do believe there is our car- 
 riage driving up to the door. My ! what 
 a turn out 1 How different from our 
 smart boys at the ' Green Man' at Bamet ! 
 Grey ! onl}^ do look at the fellow — and the 
 harness ! Grey, I say ! do come here !"
 
 202 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Grey heeded hiin not — heard him not. 
 " And are they going to send us off with- 
 out any breakfast ?" exclaimed poor Ned. 
 " If ever I saw the hke ! Well, for my 
 part, I can't say I care if I never see 
 Eome again, and such a work as is made 
 about it !" 
 
 The laquais de place came in to say 
 every tiling was ready. 
 
 " Very well," said Ked ; "I suppose 
 you are ready, Grrey, so I will go down 
 and settle myself comfortably." 
 
 Eustace took one more look round the 
 room, and then began slowly to descend 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Monsieur^ Monsieur, votre manteau !'' 
 cried the laquais de place, running after 
 him, with it on his arm, " il fait tres froid 
 ce matin — un \alain vent de bise." 
 
 " 0, merci," said Eustace, as he put 
 something into the man's hand, " Je 
 I'avois entierement oublie." 
 
 " Buon viaggiO; buon viaggio, milord," 
 said the man, kissing his hand in grati-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 203 
 
 tude for liis present, and pouring fortli a 
 torrent of Italian good wishes. 
 
 Eustace hurried from him, and sprang 
 into the cabriolet, in the corner of which, 
 Ned Watson was already ensconsed, his 
 cap dra^vn down over his face ; having, 
 apparently, already resumed the slumbers, 
 which had been so cruelly that morning 
 distm'bed. The postilion cracked his 
 whip — the horses set off — Eustace looked 
 up once more at the balcony, on which ho 
 had first seen Lucy the evening of his 
 arrival. In a few minutes more, they 
 had passed the gates of Eome ! 
 
 At that spot on the road, where he had 
 first perceived St. Peter's on his arrival, 
 he looked from the back of the carriage, 
 and kept his eye on its dome, until, at a 
 tm-n of the road, it disappeared enth'cly. 
 
 " Do sit still. Grey," cried Ned Watson, 
 in an impatient tone, " you are the most 
 troublesome, fidgety person in a carriage 
 I ever met with, there is no peace for you. 
 You are always wanting to see something
 
 204 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 or otlier you can't see. Cannot you be 
 contented with looking at what is before 
 you without always peering after some- 
 thing else?" 
 
 Eustace disturbed his fellow-traveller no 
 more ; there was nothing more to be seen, 
 or done, or to be cared for : nothing but 
 to make up his mind to an existence, a 
 future which appeared to him now as a 
 total blank. For what had he to look 
 to ? Nothing ! Lucy — the old grey 
 church at Elsmere — all was at an end ! 
 " At this very moment," thought he to 
 himself, " my uncle is reading my letter — 
 and Lucy — dear, dear Lucy ! What will 
 he say to her ? he is so stern — so cold ! 
 I should not have left her to bear alone 
 the whole burst of his displeasm-e. Oh, 
 how selfish I have been ! when — when 
 shall I ever do or say a thing, without 
 having afterwards to repent ?" 
 
 The travellers made out their journey 
 in safety, reaching London late one even- 
 ing. They took leave of each other at the
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 205 
 
 coacli-office door, Eustace immediately se- 
 curing for himself a place in the mail, just 
 setting off for Oxford. 
 
 " WeU," said Ked, " if I were you, I 
 would, at least, have got one good night's 
 sleep in a good English bed, and a good 
 Enghsh breakfast next mornuig, before 
 setting off again ; but you are the oddest 
 fellow I ever met with ! I really think 
 you care about nothing ! " 
 
 On his arrival at Oxford, Eustace im- 
 mediately hm-ried to the post-office ; there 
 was only one letter for him, it was from his 
 mother ; none with a foreign post-mark ; 
 indeed, there scarcely could possibly have 
 been any from Eome, so rapid had been 
 their journey ; but his anxious, feverish 
 imagination was not just then in a state 
 for correct calculation. His first impulse, 
 in his disappointment, was to put Mrs. 
 Grrey's letter into his pocket, but the next 
 minute, shocked at his seeming indiffer- 
 ence towards that doating mother, he 
 opened it.
 
 206 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 She was all anxiety to liear of liis safe 
 return to England, and his restored health 
 — of his being grown " fat and rosy." 
 Poor Mrs. Grey had fondly interpreted 
 this proposed journey to Eome into an 
 encouragement, on the part of her brother, 
 of his nephew's attachment to his daughter 
 — which attachment, she had, she knew, 
 only now first discovered, but which, no 
 doubt, Mr. Lushington was well aware of, 
 and the promise of the hving of Elsmere 
 appeared to her stiU further to corroborate 
 that idea. For she could not believe it 
 possible that he could be ignorant of that 
 which she had so soon discovered, and if 
 aware of all she now was, he surely would 
 never have proposed this expedition to 
 Eome had he not been favourably dis- 
 posed towards their mutual attachment — 
 for mutual, it must be — who could know 
 Eustace and not love him ? Who could 
 look at his noble, open countenance, and 
 not admire him? Her letter, therefore, 
 although not venturing to allude to all
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 207 
 
 these circumstances wliicli slie had so cle- 
 Hghtfully arranged in her own mind, and 
 so much to her own satisfaction, was 
 written in such a joyful, thankful, hopeful 
 strain, it jarred painfully on poor Eus- 
 tace's depressed spirits ; and he returned it 
 still but half read into his pocket. It was 
 in a blank, disappointed mood, therefore, 
 that he turned his steps towards Oriel 
 College, and ascended the stairs to his 
 own rooms. There is a cold, unkind look 
 about an apartment which has been for 
 some time unoccupied, and whicli is any- 
 thing but cheering to the spirits on enter- 
 ing it. All objects connected ^dth our 
 daily occupations have been cleared away. 
 Nothing seemed to welcome us. Eustace 
 had lately been living with his fellow- 
 creatures, in daily intercourse with the 
 being he most loved on earth, and al- 
 though his trials and vexations had been 
 also nearly daily, still he had enjoyed the 
 felicity of constantly beholding Lucy's 
 much-loved countenance, of hearing the
 
 208 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 music of her voice. Now the dead silence 
 of liis room, the empty chairs, all in their 
 allotted places against the walls, occupied 
 only by his portmanteau and travelHng 
 bag — the bare table in the centre of the 
 apartment — all gave him a feeling of lone- 
 liness he could not endure, and he hm-ried 
 again down stairs, and out of the house, 
 to seek his friend Neville, although ner- 
 vously dreading the interview. 
 
 Nothing could be kinder than Neville's 
 reception of him. 
 
 " Well, Grey," said he, after the first 
 greetings were over, " I hope your Itahan 
 trip has done you good. I think you do 
 look rather better, and I hope you are not 
 converted — perverted, I mean." 
 
 " Oh, no !" said Eustace, in a most 
 determined tone, " I am come back a 
 more decided Protestant than ever." 
 
 " God be thanked !" said Neville, ear- 
 nestly ; "I was rather fearful about you, 
 I must confess ; your mind was in so fever- 
 ish a state when you left England, I
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 209 
 
 thouglit, possibly, a form of worship, so 
 mucli addressed to tlie imagination and 
 senses, might have attracted you." 
 
 " Oh, no !" replied Eustace, in rather 
 a vacant tone, and suddenly the blood 
 rushing into his face, he added, — " and I 
 am come back to you, I trust, more 
 worthy of your kindness, than when I 
 left you." 
 
 Neville looked at him with an anxious, 
 inquiring expression. 
 
 " Yes," continued Eustace, " I have 
 confessed my sin." 
 
 Neville grasped his hand. " Thank 
 God again for that ! but I was sm^e you 
 would, and that I was not to be disap- 
 pointed in you." Then observing the 
 strong emotion painted on his young 
 friend's countenance — " Take courage," 
 said he, as with a kind smile, he laid his 
 hand on the arm of Eustace ; " time, and 
 new and higher objects of interest, will 
 soften down, and at length obliterate, all 
 those feelings now so painful to you ; and 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 you will look back upon tliis, your mo- 
 ment of delirium, as on a 'tale tliat is 
 told.' Few of us entirely escape the 
 fiery trial, and ' there hath no temptation 
 taken you, but such as is common to man' 
 — remember those words of St. Paul, Grey ; 
 you must read hard now to make up 
 for lost time. You have your degree to 
 take ; and the necessary study in prepara- 
 tion for your examination mil soon drive 
 all other objects out of your thoughts. 
 So we will talk no more on that subject ; 
 it is the only way to forget, what must be 
 forgotten." 
 
 Eustace did not much relish his friend's 
 well-meant consolation. Who, when deeply 
 in love, can bear to think that the moment 
 will ever come, when the delirium of pas- 
 sion will cease? and when the sentiment 
 which engrosses our whole being Avill have 
 passed away ? 
 
 Every feeling revolts at the bare idea of 
 such a dreary deadening of the soul — so at 
 least thought poor Eustace at that moment.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 211 
 
 It offended him, also, to be told tliat others 
 had felt the same as he now felt ; for we 
 are jealous even of our trials and afflictions, 
 and do not like to think we share thein 
 mth the common herd. Eustace plainly 
 saw that Neville could not understand liim 
 on that subject, and it was never again 
 alluded to between them. Strange to sa}^, 
 the latter had not ever had the curiosity to 
 inquu'e even as to the name of her, who 
 acted so prominent a part in his young 
 friend's existence. His whole anxiety about 
 Eustace had been, to impress upon him 
 the principle of strict truth and rectitude : 
 that victory over human frailty, had now 
 been obtained; the rest, he was sure, 
 would cure of itself, and he thought no 
 more about what he considered in the light 
 of a mere passing boyish fancy. And, 
 perhaps, with the generality of young men, 
 Neville's plan would have been the best to 
 pursue, but not with Eustace Grrey ; he 
 indeed applied himself doggedly to his 
 studies, but he did so from necessity, and 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 a sense of duty. But all object, all 
 spirit, in his studies was gone. He felt con- 
 vinced, that the delightful dream which 
 he had related to Lucy that evening in 
 Elsmere churchyard, was for ever broken 
 — would never come to pass. And stiU 
 more to add to his irritation of mind, 
 week after week succeeded each other, 
 and no answer came from Mr. Lushing- 
 ton. Could he not have received his 
 " confession ?" Could it have been lost 
 amid his many letters and papers ? Should 
 he write again? Was he ill? At length, 
 the much-wished-for, much-dreaded letter, 
 with the Eoman postmark, was put into 
 his hand : he hurried home to his own 
 rooms to read it unseen ; upon its con- 
 tents depended his very existence. It was 
 as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Eustace, 
 
 " I DULY received yours of the 26th 
 of last month, atod should have answered 
 it sooner, but I have had much writing on
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 213 
 
 my hands of late, and Ned Watson being 
 gone, I have of course no help. You were 
 quite right in making me, what you call 
 your ' confession :' it confirms me in my 
 good opinion of you. Perhaps I was to 
 blame in not remembering that such things 
 are possible as young boys taking fancies 
 for young girls ; however, luckily, no great 
 harm is done. I dare say, Lucy missed^ ^^^^ 
 old playfellow for a day or two ; but she 
 seems quite well and happy, and is amusing 
 herself with lier many friends and sight - 
 seemgs, from morning to night. I have 
 not yet quite fixed my time for retm-ning 
 to England, but I should hope to have 
 settled my business here by the beginning 
 of next month. We shall go straight to 
 London, and probably be there for some 
 time, as I have taken a house for three 
 years, in Stanhope-street. We shall not, 
 therefore, be at Elsmere Manor till quite 
 the end of the summer, and perhaps now 
 {as matters are), it may be as well, you 
 should not pay us your usual periodical
 
 214 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 visits there as formerly. I liope you found 
 your motlier well. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 '' F. LUSHINGTON." 
 
 " P.S. It seems that Mr. Woodford's re- 
 moval from Elsmere is not at all as settled 
 a business as I had thought and hoped." 
 
 Eustace sat for some time in a sort of 
 trance, after the perusal of this letter from 
 his uncle. He had worked himself up into 
 a state of the greatest excitement with 
 regard to its contents. At one moment 
 anticipating angry reproaches, which he 
 was to hear as a hero and martyr; at 
 others, indulging in almost impossible 
 visions of happiness, by his uncle holding 
 out to him hopes for the future, after due 
 probation and steadiness on his part, and 
 unaltered affection on Lucy's. But for 
 the careless manner in which Mr. Lush- 
 ington alluded to what had so long racked 
 his soul, depriving him of rest day and 
 night — for the trifling, almost childish
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 215 
 
 light in which he seemed to view his de- 
 voted attachment to his danghter — the 
 cool easy way in which he hinted at his 
 being no longer welcome as a member of 
 the family — for all this, Eustace was not 
 prepared, and not only his heart, but his 
 pride was wounded ; for by it, his uncle 
 seemed to infer he was a person of so little 
 consequence, it Httle mattered what his 
 own affections were. He had expected angry 
 reproaches, and would almost have pre- 
 ferred them to such affronting, careless 
 disregard. Then those cruel words, " Lucy 
 is quite well and happy, amusing herself 
 with her many friends and sight-seeings 
 from morning to night," and what was 
 perhaps worst of all, '' no doubt she must, 
 for a day or two, have missed her old play- 
 fellow." In short, had Mr. Lushington 
 studied a letter for the purpose of wound- 
 ing him in every possible way, he could 
 not have succeeded better. Then, to com- 
 plete his misery, this house in Stanhope- 
 street ! Mrs. Lushington had gained her
 
 216 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 point. Lucy was now to be introduced 
 into the fashionable world of London ! 
 
 Lucy was indeed lost to him. — How 
 Eustace longed to show this letter to his 
 friend Neville 1 to have his opinion of its 
 contents — of its meaning — in other words, 
 to have been encouraged to " hope against 
 hope ;" but all such confidence between 
 them was now at an end. Eustace was 
 (apparent^) more and more engrossed by 
 his studies. Ne^dUe saw but the surface ; 
 and, rejoicing at his young friend's zeal and 
 assiduity, never doubted but that his 
 bo}dsh fancy had completely died away.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 217 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Eustace Gtrey passed a most excellent 
 examination, and took his degree with so 
 much credit to himself, that he appeared 
 at once to acquire a different position at 
 college. Those of his former associates who 
 had begun by ridiculing his " seriousness," 
 and endeavoiu'ing to provoke his temper, 
 no longer ventured on their jokes and sar- 
 casms, and his acquaintance was sought 
 even by the elder members of the Univer- 
 sity. Neville, about whose heart Eustace 
 had strangely entwined himself, enjoyed 
 his success, almost as a father would that 
 of a favourite son, anticipating for him the 
 most brilliant future career. And in 
 these his anticipations he was not disap- 
 pointed, for Eustace continued at every
 
 218 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 future step of his college life, to gain fresh 
 honours and credit; in consequence of 
 which, and of his very distinguished abili- 
 ties, he finally obtained a fellowship at his 
 own college, and was ordained to that as a 
 title for orders. 
 
 T\Tiile these events were taking place in 
 the life of Eustace at Oxford, he had of 
 course httle or no intercourse with the rest 
 of the world, except through liis mother's 
 letters, full of joy and gratitude at her 
 " dear boy's" success ; and those which he 
 received from Ked Watson, who in pity for 
 his '' exclusion from the world of London," 
 wTote from time to time to tell him what 
 was going on in it. 
 
 Amoncj other news, Ned had inforaied 
 him that the Lushington family was now 
 estabhshed in Stanhope-street ; that he, of 
 course, frequently saw Mr. Lushington at 
 the banking-house ; that he beheved his 
 change of residence to the West End had 
 been recommended to him by his doctor, 
 as better for his health than his former
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 219 
 
 residence in the City, saving him also the 
 fatigue of going so often backwards and 
 forwards to Elsmere. " And I dare say," 
 added Ked, '' the ladies are well pleased at 
 the change. Mr. Lushington," he con- 
 tinued, " don't complain of being ill, but I 
 think he looks very queer, and he keeps us 
 all in more strict order than ever." 
 
 Autumn was again fast approaching, 
 and the London season closing, when 
 Eustace received an unusually scrawly 
 letter from his correspondent Xed Wat- 
 son ; he wrote as follows : — 
 
 " My dear G-rey, — 
 
 '' I WRITE by my father's advice to 
 break to you the news of a most dreadful 
 affliction which has fallen upon the poor 
 Lushingtons, as he is sure it will greatly 
 distress and shock you, and he thinks it is 
 better you should not hear it first from 
 the newspapers. I fear it will go very 
 hard with poor ^Ir. and Mrs. Lushington, 
 and I am sure you will feel it much yoijr-
 
 220 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 self, from your having been so intimately 
 acquainted from yom- very boyhood." 
 
 The letter fell from Eustace's hands. 
 " Oh, my Grod !" he exclaimed, " what can 
 have happened ? Lucy ?" and he became 
 so giddy, he could not for some time 
 decipher another word ; all was confusion 
 before his eyes. Having, at length, by a 
 strong effort, stilled the beating of his 
 heart, he again seized the letter ; and as 
 he hastily glanced over it, his eye fell on 
 the word " Frederick/' Eustace ag^ain 
 breathed, but still the letter shook so 
 violently in his hand, it was some minutes 
 before he was able to read it, so as to 
 understand its contents, and poor Xed 
 had certainly not, by his preamble, taken 
 the best method of " hreahing " (as he 
 called it) the tragical event which he had 
 to announce. His letter thus proceeded : — 
 
 *' Of course, you will understand I 
 allude to poor Frederick Lushington, and 
 his melancholy end. He really deserved 
 a better fate, being, to my mind, a fine,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 221 
 
 spirited fellow. But, perhaps, I had 
 better now tell you the particulars of what 
 has happened. It seems he (Captain 
 Lushington) and another officer in the 
 regiment, then quartered at Clonmel, 
 had engaged at cards, after a very jolly 
 mess dinner — Fred Lushinofton beino: 
 always, you know, of a free, open, sociable 
 disposition — none of your spoonies. 
 Well, what the game was, or what hap- 
 pened at it, I don't very well remember — 
 I read about it all in such a hurry, and 
 felt altogether so flurried — but somehow 
 or other, Frederick Lushington and this 
 officer quarrelled (and a regular blackguard 
 he must have been, for he accused Fred of 
 cheating, and called him by some name, 
 which, of course, no gentleman can submit 
 to be called by), and they got to high 
 words, and then the other officers inter- 
 fered ; but, unfortunately, they were all in 
 rather an elevated state, and only made 
 bad worse ; and, in short, the long and 
 the short of the storj^ is, that before they
 
 222 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 knew whether tlie}^ were on their heads or 
 their heels, away they went to a field near 
 and fired — and poor Lnshington fell dead 
 on the spot ! It is a dreadful thing ; but 
 it must be a consolation to Mr. Lnshing- 
 ton to think that his son died like a 
 gentleman and a soldie7\ 
 
 " My father is gone to Elsmere, to see 
 whether he can be of any use to the 
 afflicted family, hoping he may possibly 
 get there in time to break this sad news 
 to them (as I have, I hope, to j^ou), 
 for it only reached London this morning. 
 What will poor Mr. Lnshington do? 
 Both his sons now gone ! and Mrs. Lnsh- 
 ington, who was always so proud of poor 
 Frederick ! — and well she might ! Such 
 a handsome fellow ! and every one would 
 not have acted with as much spirit as he 
 seems to have done on this occasion ; so 
 she has that consolation — but it is a shock- 
 ing business altogether. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Ed. Watson."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 223 
 
 It is impossible to describe what were 
 the feelings of Eustace on tlie perusal of 
 this letter. So appalling, indeed, were its 
 contents, that it was some time before he 
 could even realize to himself what had 
 happened. The idea of any one rushing 
 thus to his last account, in bold defiance of 
 the will of his Creator, and at the very 
 moment when breaking his laws in so 
 many ways, made Eustace shudder; for 
 he could not but see his cousin's conduct 
 in a totally different light from that in 
 which ^Ned Watson viewed it. " Dying 
 like a gentleman /" Alas ! it is to be 
 feared gentlemen, however brave and what 
 the world calls honourable, have no pass- 
 key into heaven ! JSro two beings could 
 certainly have been less congenial than 
 himself and his cousin Frederick ; but so 
 awfal and sudden an end to one every 
 way so Httle fitted to die — it was dreadful 
 to think of! and he was Lucy's brother — 
 his poor aunt's favourite son — her only 
 son ! How bitterly, too, did Eustace now
 
 224 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 feel liis expulsion from Elsmere ! — the 
 impossibility of being of any nse to those 
 whom he so wished to serve ! Lucy left 
 alone, with such horrible circumstances 
 ever before her mind, no one with her to 
 administer such consolation as would alone 
 be fitted on so dreadful an occasion ! for 
 he knew well Mr. Woodford would not 
 be admitted, and common acquaintances 
 would, of course, be excluded. The very 
 horror of the moment sometimes almost 
 emboldened Eustace to venture unbidden to 
 Elsmere ; but he feared the displeasure of 
 liis uncle : he had, in plain words, closed 
 his doors against him ; he dared not brave 
 his anger. 
 
 Eustace passed some days in this pain- 
 ful state of doubt and anxiety, but at 
 length resolved on writing to Ked Watson 
 for farther accounts, before he decided on 
 what step he should take. He received 
 the following answer by return of post : — 
 " I fear I have not any good news to give 
 you of your friends. My father says your
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. Z:ZD 
 
 imcle is dreadfully cut up, more so even 
 than when his son Charles died, which is 
 odd, as Frederick was never his favourite 
 — quite the contrary. As for Mrs. Lush- 
 ington, my father seems out of all patience 
 with her ; she has never left her bed since 
 the dreadful news arrived, persists in 
 maintaining her son has been murdered 
 by the horrid Irish people, who, she says^ 
 have a particular spite at gentlemen ; she 
 was always sure that what has happened, 
 would ; and she lays all the blame on Mr. 
 Lushington, for not having got him at 
 once into the Life Guards, when he would 
 have been safe in the barracks in Hyde 
 Park. She " is sure it was all a concerted 
 plan, and that the person who shot him 
 was no officer at aU, but a rebel in dis- 
 guise !" — Certainly, if any one can be com- 
 forted under such a loss, ^Mr. Lushington 
 might, for every one speaks in commenda- 
 tion of Captain Lushington's gentlemanly 
 manners, and reputation as an officer. 
 My father says, Miss Lushington never 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 .226 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 leaves her mother, and looks wretchedly. 
 The precise time when the last ceremony- 
 will take place is not yet fixed, as the 
 body is to be brought to Elsmere for in- 
 terment." 
 
 Two or three days after the receipt of 
 this letter, one witli a lugubrious broad 
 black border was put into Eustace's hand, 
 summoning him, in form, to attend Cap- 
 tain Lushington's funeral, at Elsmere 
 Manor, on the Tuesday of the following 
 week. With it. came another from his 
 correspondent 'Ned Watson, saying that 
 he wrote by his father's desire, to propose 
 their going together from London to 
 Elsmere, on that Tuesday morning, and 
 that if he (Eustace) would come to town 
 the evening before, he could lodge him 
 that night at his house. 
 
 All this seemed to settle for him, past 
 all possible doubt or demur, his going to 
 Elsmere (the object on which his heart 
 was set), as he could not, he thought, 
 possibly be doing wrong, when accepting
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 227 
 
 Mr. Watson's friendly proposal, and at- 
 tending the regular summons lie had 
 received ; and he accordingly left Oxford 
 on the day preceding that named for the 
 funeral. On their way, next morning, 
 from London to Elsmere Manor, Mr. 
 Watson questioned Eustace closely about 
 himself, his studies, his intended profes- 
 sion, his future prospects; but for the 
 first time, he found his young friend silent 
 and reserved, and as they approached the 
 end of their journey neither seemed in- 
 clined to speak. 
 
 On reaching the house, they were at 
 once ushered into the drawing-room, then 
 filled with mourning figures, scarcely any 
 of whom, Eustace, in his present nervous 
 agitation, recognised. For there he was 
 again, after an absence of nearly three 
 years, in that same room (every article of 
 furniture within which was so familiar to 
 him, recalling the past) where he had 
 spent so many days of his boyhood with 
 those two companions, both now no more, 
 
 «i2
 
 228 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 and with her from whom he felt separated 
 by almost as impassable a barrier as death 
 itself. When, after a few minutes, he 
 became more composed, he ventured to 
 look round the room, most of those as- 
 sembled, he did not know, and his uncle 
 certainly was not among them. 
 
 Before long, the church bell began to 
 toll in those dismal, slow, minute strokes 
 which announce that "man is going to 
 his long home." The door from the next 
 room (the library, where the body lay) 
 was opened, and Mr. Lushington entered 
 from it, alone. He was ghastly pale, and 
 appeared oldened ten years since Eustace 
 had parted with him at Eome the spring 
 before. He shook hands with one or two 
 of his friends as he passed them, while 
 the coffin-bearers were preparing to raise 
 their burden, in order to form into the 
 funeral procession. On perceiving Mr. 
 Watson, Mr. Lushington appeared to 
 hasten his pace. Eustace had involun- 
 tarily (even unconsciously) shrunk back
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 2'2d 
 
 behind the former, his uncle's altered ap- 
 pearance had so ^artled and shocked him, 
 and he felt also painfully nervous as to 
 what welcome he might receive from him, 
 after what had lately passed between them. 
 
 " Here is Eustace Grey," said Mr. 
 Watson, drawing back, in order to let 
 Mr. Lushington see him. 
 
 The minute the uncle's eye fell upon 
 his nephew, the most extraordinary rush 
 of blood spread itself over his before 
 ghastly countenance ; lie seemed to try 
 to speak, but as if he could not ; and, 
 convulsively grasping the hand of Eustace 
 for a minute, he hurried on. 
 
 Eustace being the nearest relation pre- 
 sent, he was desired to follow immediately 
 after the chief mourner, as soon as the 
 coffin had passed ; and all those assembled 
 on the melancholy occasion then proceeded 
 to the church. 
 
 How many and painful were poor Eus- 
 tace's feehngs on again hearing those 
 solemn opening words of the burial ser-
 
 230 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 vice, "Blessed are the dead who die in 
 the Lord" — words so atS^fully z?2applicable 
 on the present occasion ! and so forcibly 
 recalling the moment when he had, three 
 years before, on that very spot, repeated 
 them to one who then clung to his arm 
 with the intimacy of confiding affection, 
 when following to that same grave the 
 remains of her brother Charles — one 
 whose every thought and feeling he then 
 had shared, and yet from whom, although 
 she was under that very roof he had but 
 just quitted, he was for ever separated; 
 one, whom he dared not now even en- 
 counter — whose very name he felt he could 
 scarcely pronounce. 
 
 The religious ceremony concluded, all 
 lingered for a time around the open vault, 
 looking down on the coffins of those two 
 brothers, cut off* in the very prime of life, 
 lying side by side in their bed of death. 
 And then the mourners returned to the 
 house in the same order in which they 
 had left it, Eustace mechanically following
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 231 
 
 the rest to tlie hall-door ; but instead of 
 enterins: it, he suddenly darted off throuo^h 
 the shrubbery, and retracing his steps, he 
 returned to the churchyard, and though 
 hardly, perhaps, conscious of his object, 
 went straight to the gravestone on which 
 he and Lucv had sat that eyenins:, when 
 first he had '•' told his love ;"' where he had 
 related to her his " delightful dream ;" and 
 where he had in a manner affianced her as 
 his wife. How long he there remained en- 
 tranced he knew not, but being at length 
 distm'bed by the workmen, who came to 
 close the open yault, he mechanically re- 
 turned towards the house, passing by the 
 side on which were Lucy's windows, and 
 he for a minute stopped and looked up 
 towards them ; the blinds were all drawn 
 down, and in !Mrs. Lushington's apart- 
 ments eyen the shutters were closed. 
 
 The butler, who had apparently recog- 
 nised Eustace from the back door of the 
 house, hurried up to him. Did he want 
 anything, or anybody ? would he not take
 
 232 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 some refreshment ? All tlie gentlemen 
 were in the dining-room, would he jom 
 them ? or should he fetch him anything ? 
 
 Eustace made no answer; indeed, he 
 did not even hear any of these well-meant 
 offers. 
 
 But Lambert persevered with officious 
 kindness — •" Shall I let Miss Lushington 
 know you are here, sir ? I am sure she 
 would see you, and it would do her good." 
 
 " Is she alone ?" inquired Eusta€e, in 
 an odd, vacant manner, as if at last roused 
 out of his trance, but scarcelv conscious of 
 his own words. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! quite alone, I'm pretty sure ; 
 but I will go and fetch her maid, and she 
 can inform her of your being here, and 
 you can, you know, go up these stairs to 
 the passage leading to Miss Lushington's 
 sitting-room, without interfering with the 
 compauy in any way ; and I am sure she 
 would be so glad to see you, you were 
 always as a brother to her ; aud now both 
 of them gone, and in so dreadful a way l"
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 233 
 
 and Lambert stopped to brusli away liis 
 tears. " Poor Miss Lushington," he con- 
 tinued, " takes on sadly, Mr. Eeid says ; 
 and she looks miserably — so pale and ill !" 
 
 Wliat a crnel trial was all this for poor 
 Eustace ! To be thus close to Lucy, actu- 
 ally within hearing of her voice, and she in 
 affliction, needing consolation (such con- 
 solation, too, as he was sure she would 
 not receive from any of those around her), 
 and then to be more entirely separated 
 from her than if miles had been between 
 them. Again Eustace unconsciously re- 
 peated the same words, " Is she alone ?" 
 
 Lambert stared, but again made the 
 same answer, '' Quite alone, I believe ; but 
 if you please, I will go and see " — and he 
 was already, in his friendly zeal, on the 
 step of the stair. 
 
 " Oh, no ! no !" cried Eustace, stopping 
 him. '' I do not mean that ; but has she 
 no friend with her — staying with her?" 
 
 " No, not yet, sir : Mr. Lushington 
 would hear of no one coming to the house
 
 284 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 at first, she was in such a terrible way ; 
 but I understand Lady Emily Maxwell is 
 expected to-morrow — indeed, I believe, 
 this afternoon." 
 
 Eustace actually started at the sound of 
 Lady Emily's name, for what a host of 
 recollections did it not in a moment raise 
 up! — the sitting-room at Semi's Hotel — 
 the moonlight night at the Colosseum — 
 so much of pleasure — so much of pain ! 
 
 " And is that the best, the only friend 
 poor Lucy has to look to for comfort in 
 her hour of need?" thought he to himself; 
 and then turning to the butler, as if some 
 sudden thought had occasioned a sudden 
 resolution — " Is there any London coach 
 which passes anywhere near this, in the 
 afternoon, and arrives in town in time for 
 the night-mail to Oxford ?" 
 
 " I will inquire," said Lambert, " if you 
 will please to walk in. You can come 
 in here, into my room, if you don't Hke 
 to go up -stairs." 
 
 In a few minutes Lambert returned,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 235 
 
 wdth the information that in a couple of 
 hours the " Highflyer " coach would pass 
 through St. Alban's, in its way south. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! Then will you give 
 me a pen and ink, and a sheet of paper ?" 
 
 " Here, sir ?" inquired the butler, with 
 a surprised, inquiring look. " Will you 
 not walk into the Hbrary ? It is all cleared 
 away from there by this time, you can 
 safely go." 
 
 " No, thank you," said Eustace, " I will 
 remain here." 
 
 In a few minutes Lambert returned 
 with writing materials, and some wine 
 and biscuits. "Pray, Mr. Eustace," he 
 said, with a beseeching expression of coun- 
 tenance, as he poured out some wine into 
 a glass, "pray take something; you look 
 so pale and unlike yourself, and it has 
 indeed been an awful day for us all." 
 
 Tears rushed into the eyes of Eustace, 
 and he gratefully drank off what was so 
 kindly held out to him. He then wrote 
 as follows to Mr. Watson : —
 
 236 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " My DEAR Sir, 
 
 " As I wish to be at Oxford early 
 to-morrow, I think I had better take ad- 
 vantage of a coach, which I find passes 
 through St. Alban's in a couple of hours, 
 and which reaches London early this 
 evening ; so, with many thanks for your 
 kind offer of taking me back with you, I 
 shall avail myself of this conveyance. In- 
 deed, I hope and trust you will not leave 
 my poor uncle at present ; at any rate, not 
 to-day. He looks so ill and worn, I am 
 sure he needs a comforter, and no one can 
 be that to him better than yourself. I 
 should feel it to be a great kindness, if you 
 would let me know how you leave him 
 when you come away, and all the family." 
 
 Eustace sealed his letter and gave it to 
 the butler, bidding him tell Mr. Watson, 
 when he delivered it to him, that he was 
 gone. 
 
 " And without seeing poor Miss Lucy ?" 
 said Lambert, in evident astonishment.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 237 
 
 Eustace made him no answer, but 
 quickly walked out of the house. He 
 once again looked up at the darkened ^Yin- 
 dows of Lucy's room, and then did not 
 slacken his hurried pace until he reached 
 St. Albans. 
 
 How often, during the long dark hours 
 of that dismal night jom-ney from London 
 to Oxford, did poor Eustace, with a cold 
 damp sweat upon his brow, start up from 
 the horrible dreams, which, whenever he 
 closed his eyes in sleep, haunted him. 
 The open vault in Elsmere churchyard 
 was constantly before him. Sometimes 
 he looked down upon the coffins of the 
 two brothers, lying side by side in their 
 early grave. At others, it seemed to be 
 his uncle w^ho was stretched below, and 
 whose open glassy eyes were fixed upon 
 him, with that strange expression, which 
 had so startled Eustace in the morning at 
 the funeral. Then Lucy appeared on the 
 scene, upbraiding him for his cruel deser- 
 tion of her ; and at her side was Sii* Alex-
 
 238 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 ander Melville, pointing in derision to the 
 cross at the Colosseum. Daylight, how- 
 ever, at length dispelled all these horrible 
 visions. 
 
 It was still early morning when Eustace 
 again reached Oxford, and all was silent 
 in Oriel College when he re-entered his 
 own room. So short had been his ab- 
 sence, he could hardly realise to himself 
 all that had passed since he left it, and his 
 friend JSTeville had never even discovered 
 it. That friend took indeed so little in- 
 terest in the common affairs of tliis lower 
 world, that, never joining in any of the 
 daily gossipings of life, never even scarcely 
 reading a newspaper, he was perfectly 
 ignorant of the tragical event which had 
 taken place in the Lushington family, and 
 it was not one with which Eustace could 
 have any wish to acquaint him. Indeed, 
 strange as it may seem, Neville had never 
 inquired the name of his young friend's 
 relations and connections, not even of 
 her of whom he had asked whether she
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 239 
 
 was " a child of God !" It was Eustace's 
 open ardent disposition which had, from 
 the first, so strangely interested him in 
 his behalf, not his love story ; such stories 
 Neville thought belonged to youth alone, 
 and would probably be followed by many 
 similar before the character was formed, 
 and the affection fixed. It was his young 
 friend's souVs welfare he had taken so 
 much to heart ; and when once satisfied 
 that young friend had acted according to 
 those principles of open conscientious truth 
 which should ever mark the Christian's 
 conduct and character, he thought no more 
 of the circumstance itself which had oc- 
 casioned his anxiety, and never doubted 
 that it was forgotten by Eustace also.
 
 240 THE OLD GREY CHURCH, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Eustace Grey, as we have seen (rather 
 anticipating the events which took place 
 in his college Hfe), had, by means of his 
 rapid advance in all its academical honours, 
 finally obtained a title to holy orders, and 
 was, before long, appointed curate to a 
 friend of Neville's, whose health required 
 his leaving his parish duties for some 
 months. Eustace had now, therefore, 
 actually entered upon that sacred profes- 
 sion, to which he had solemnly, before 
 heaven, pledged entire devotion of heart 
 and life ; and he had so far subdued his 
 former feehngs, as to be thankful that cir- 
 cumstances had so well prepared him for 
 those sacrifices, which he was aware any one 
 engaging in the holy ministry would, in
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 241 
 
 some degree, be called upon to make ; and 
 tliat those visions of earthly felicity, which 
 had before so absorbed his whole being, 
 had been, of necessity, so much dispelled. 
 Severe had been the training which he 
 had undergone ; and it still required con- 
 stant watchfulness, and violent struggles 
 with self, to banish all those feelings and 
 recollections which had, for a time, en- 
 tirely mastered him. But his character 
 was now formed ; and that moral courage, 
 which should ever distinguish the true 
 Christian, had grown with his growth, 
 and strengthened with his strength. New 
 objects, new aspirations, had taken posses- 
 sion of his soul, for he now felt that he 
 was called upon to the discharge of the 
 most important of all duties. To him 
 would be consigned the care of immortal 
 souls ! He was now appointed to the ex- 
 alted ofl&ce of ambassador from Christ, to 
 proclaim the glad tidings of peace and re- 
 concihation to repentant sinners ; and with 
 such duties, such prospects before him^ 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Eustace was almost ashamed of tlie merely 
 selfisli feelings and objects whicli had once 
 so entirely engrossed him. That strong 
 affection, which had roused into life, and 
 occupied his every thought and faculty, 
 seemed to him now as "a very lovely 
 song," a \dsion which had appeared, and 
 then had vanished away. But that very 
 engrossing passion had helped to form his 
 chaj'acter ; he had become acquainted with 
 himself, with his own weakness. He had 
 learnt, also, where to apply for that 
 strength against temptation, wliich he 
 was aware that, of himself, he had not. 
 His very earthly affection had, in short, 
 served towards raising his mind to higher 
 objects, by stirring up every power of his 
 soul, and brino^insf all the natural eners^ies 
 of his character into play. When first 
 the bright dream of his youth was 
 broken, when liis fond imagination could 
 no longer place Lucy at his side in the 
 parsonage adjoining the " old grey 
 church" at Elsmere (for from the Els-
 
 THE OLD GEEY CHURCH. 243 
 
 mere living lie now felt himself to be as 
 entirely excluded, as our first parents were 
 from Paradise), he had, like them, looked 
 appalled at the dreary prospect which his 
 future hfe presented. But now, with 
 duty as his daily companion, his fellow- 
 creatures as his family, and his Saviour for 
 his help and guide, he felt, that wherever 
 Providence might place him, there he 
 could not fail to find some interest in hfe. 
 Tlie Eev. Eustace Grey was now there- 
 fore established as curate, in the little 
 parish of Ashford, in Hampshire, and was 
 just beginning to feel settled, and at home 
 in his parochial duties, when he received 
 the following letter from Mr. Watson : — 
 
 " My dear young Priend, 
 
 " It has given me, as you may be 
 sure, the greatest pleasure to hear with 
 what credit you have passed through all 
 vour colleo^e examinations, and what dis- 
 tinguished honom-s you have gained, so 
 that vou are now fairlv launched in the
 
 244 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 profession you have 'cliosen. All I can 
 say is go on as you have begun, and may 
 you, with God's blessing, prosper. 
 
 *' With regard to your final destination 
 (the living at Elsmere), I know nothing 
 further; but, I believe, Mr. Woodford is 
 still there, the preferment, or arrangement 
 to which he had looked, having, somehow 
 (at least for the present), failed. But, 
 from your uncle, I have heard nothing on 
 the subject; for ever since that melancholy 
 day, when we all met at his poor son's 
 funeral, I have avoided alluding to any- 
 thing connected with the place : he ap- 
 peared to be always so painfuUy agitated 
 whenever T did so. And, indeed, he has 
 been there very little himself, as change 
 of scene was almost immediately recom- 
 mended for Mrs. Lushington; and the 
 family have, in consequence, been, for 
 the last two or three months, entirely at 
 Brighton. 
 
 " I had not therefore seen your uncle 
 for some time, but hearing by chance,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 245 
 
 that they had arrived in Stanhope-street, 
 I went immediately to call upon him, and 
 I am sure you will be glad to hear that 
 Mrs. Lushington is a great deal better 
 than she was — in short, herself again ; 
 but your poor uncle is certainly much 
 changed every way ; which, however, one 
 cannot wonder at after such dreadful afflic- 
 tions and losses. 
 
 " But I must now come to the chief 
 purport of my letter, for which I T^dll 
 trust to your kindness, not to condemn 
 me as a very impertinent, meddling old 
 fellow. 
 
 "To the point then. Ever since that 
 dismal day of poor Frederick's funeral, 
 I have been haunted with the idea, that 
 something had gone ^\Tong between you 
 and your uncle, and this I could in no 
 way account for, but by concluding (you 
 will forgive me) that you had, by some 
 youthful misconduct, incm'red his dis- 
 pleasure ; for the excessive agitation you 
 both betrayed on meeting that day, was
 
 246 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 certainly far beyond what even the melan- 
 choly circumstances of the moment, seemed 
 to account for. And your sudden, abrupt 
 disappearance from Elsmere immediately 
 after the conclusion of the ceremony, 
 confirmed me in my suspicions. 
 
 " With this impression, therefore, I 
 went to Stanhope- street, directly on hear- 
 ing that Lushington was come to town, 
 determined to clear up the mystery, and 
 hoping, if right in my conjectures, to be 
 able to act as mediator between you and 
 your uncle ; for with all my old friend's 
 estimable qualities, I know that there is 
 a degree of cold reserve about him which 
 must be rather formidable to a young per- 
 son, and I never could imagine, that your 
 offence (if offence you had committed) 
 could be of a very serious description. 
 
 " I was therefore turning in my mind 
 how to open the matter, when your uncle 
 saved me all further trouble, by at once 
 inquiring after you. Where you were ? 
 What you were about ? So I then
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 247 
 
 thouglit I miglit venture to allude to 
 my suspicion, and anxiety, in consequence 
 of what I had observed of your mutual 
 agitation on meeting, some little time ago. 
 " Your uncle appeared, at first, to be 
 rather startled by my inquiries, but almost 
 immediately recovering himself — ' Yes,' 
 he rephed, ' there has been a httle rnis- 
 understanding' (he termed it) ' between us. 
 Eustace has, I beheve, taken up something 
 I wrote to him — perhaps, too strongly — 
 more so than I had intended, at least — 
 but,' (he added, quickly) — 'that has all 
 passed by — is blown over— and I have, 
 on the contrary, the very highest opinion 
 of him. I believe him to be an excellent 
 young man, and the more I see and know 
 of what are called the fashionable young 
 men of the world ' (and your uncle laid a 
 peculiar emphasis on the v^ordi fashionable) 
 ' the better I am inchned to think of my 
 nephew ; ' and then, after a pause, he 
 added — ' Should he, by chance, be at any 
 time in town, I shall be very glad to see
 
 248 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 him again ; and you may tell him so. I 
 understand lie is doing very well at Ox- 
 ford/ 
 
 " This is, word for word, what my friend 
 Lushington said to me on your subject, 
 and from what I know of you, I have 
 no doubt, but that you will avail yourself, 
 without loss of time, of this opening on 
 his side towards a reconciliation. What 
 it is that had made this necessary I do 
 not know, and do not mean to inquire 
 my part being only to bring it about; 
 and I therefore write to say, that when- 
 ever you find you can leave your parochial 
 duties, and come to town, the same httle 
 attic in my house which you occupied 
 once before, will be at your service, and 
 I am sure I need make no nonsensical 
 speeches to you about not lodging you 
 better. 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 " W. Watson. 
 
 " P.S. I enclose a note to you from 
 Ned."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 249 
 
 It is impossible to describe the strange, 
 the painful state of tumultuous feelings, 
 into which this letter of Mr. Watson 
 threw poor Eustace. The blessed calm, 
 which succeeds hard but successful con- 
 test over self, was at once destroyed. 
 Thoughts, feelings, and recollections, 
 which had, to a great degree, been over- 
 come by principle, unceasing occupation, 
 and absorbing devotion to his new duties, 
 now rushed back upon him with over- 
 whelming violence. He was again to 
 enter his uncle's house, as a welcome, an 
 invited \dsitor ! Again to behold Lucy ! 
 What could it all mean ? 
 
 Again and again he read Mr. Watson's 
 letter— he thought he must be dreaming. 
 And what could his uncle mean by saying 
 there had been a " little misunderstanding 
 between them ;" " that he had taken up 
 something he had said too strongly;" 
 and "that it was all blown over?" Or 
 was it (and Eustace actually shuddered 
 as the idea struck him) — was it that all
 
 250 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 anxiety on that head was gone by ? Lucy 
 being engaged to another? to one more 
 fortunate than himself? " Yes, it must 
 be so ; that explains it all ;" and he 
 sprang from his chair, and paced hastily 
 up and down the room. " Yes ! and I 
 ^m to go and witness this — I am to see 
 her happy with another — and the sight 
 is to cure me of my folly. Well, be it 
 so ! What else could I possibly have ex- 
 pected. Oh, my God !" he exclaimed, 
 as he clasped his hands together ; "is 
 this my submission to thy will? is this 
 my professed devotion to thy service? 
 My mUing resignation of this world's 
 enjoyments ! Oh, God, forgive me !" 
 Eustace buried his face in his hands, 
 and remained some time absorbed in 
 prayer. At length, rousing himself — 
 " Yes, I will go," he mentally ejacu- 
 lated; " I will see her once again, when 
 every possible hope is at an end, these 
 wild, unchastened feelings will subside 
 and I shall then more contentedly look to
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 251 
 
 that dreary, lonely future which must be 
 my lot." 
 
 Wlien Eustace returned to the table, in 
 order to write to Mr. Watson, his eye fell 
 on a piece of paper laying on the ground : 
 it was the note from Ned Watson, which 
 his father said he had enclosed, and was as 
 follows : — 
 
 " My dear Grey, 
 
 " I am so glad to hear that there 
 is some idea of your coming to town, for 
 I am sure it will do you good to have a 
 little recreation after all your awful ex- 
 aminations and ordinations ; and when- 
 ever I know your day is fixed, I will 
 try and get through my work as soon as 
 possible, so as to be as much at liberty 
 as I can while you are in London, that 
 we may have a little fun together; and 
 pray, if possible, arrange so as to be a 
 Wednesday and Friday here, for there is 
 the most delightful new farce at the 
 Adelplii Theatre now acting every other
 
 S52 THE OLD GUEY CHURCH. 
 
 night, such capital fun ! and a new actor 
 who will make you die of laughter ; and I 
 am longing to go there with you. 
 
 " I hear the Lushington family are all 
 pretty well ; and, by-the-by, they say Miss 
 Lushington is, now (both her brothers 
 being gone) a most amazing heiress ! they 
 talk of forty or fifty thousand a-year ! and 
 that all the ruined elder brothers, and 
 pennyless younger ones at the West End, 
 are after her ; the present doubt being 
 between Lord ParneU (Lady Emily Max- 
 well's brother), and a Mr. Clifford, a sad 
 roue (as they call him). Your Eoman 
 friend. Sir Alexander Melville, is also 
 named as a suitor for her well-filled hand. 
 Now, between you and I, I always thought 
 you and Miss Lushington looked very 
 sweet upon each other at Eome ; so you 
 had better come and look sharp after your 
 own interests, for fifty, or even forty thou- 
 sand a-year is worth the trouble of wooing. 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Edward Watson."
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 253 
 
 This letter of the good, simple Ned, 
 kindly intended as it may have been, 
 was not certainly calculated to compose 
 the mind and feelings of Eustace. 
 
 He was actually thunderstruck on read- 
 ing what had never once occurred to him, 
 namely, the probability of a great change 
 in Lucy's future prospects in life in con- 
 sequence of her brother's death ! But 
 why should he care? Lucy was abeady 
 lost to him. The gulf between them 
 being still farther widened Httle mat- 
 tered ; indeed, it was perhaps better it 
 should be so — much better !
 
 254 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 It was on a Tuesday that Eustace re- 
 ceived Mr. Watson's letter ; so he wrote 
 to say (with every possible expression of 
 gratitude for his kind interference in his 
 behalf), that he would gladly accept his 
 offer of the little attic room, and be with 
 him on Thursday, of course returning for 
 his parish duties on Sunday. 
 
 It is more easy to imagine than describe 
 the feehngs of Eustace on that Thursday, 
 as he drew towards the end of his journey. 
 He left the coach at Hyde Park Corner, 
 and walked on to Stanhope-street. 
 
 " Is Mr. Lushington at home?" he in- 
 quired, almost hoping to hear he was not, 
 and that he might have, at least, a short 
 reprieve from the dreaded interview.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 255 
 
 " Your name, sir, if you please," said 
 the man ; " Mr. Lusliington does not see 
 every one." 
 
 On Eustace telling it. 
 
 '■* Oh, yes, sir, if you please, walk this 
 way;" and he proceeded to a room on 
 the ground-floor, and opening the door, 
 announced Mr. Grey. 
 
 Mr. Lusliington was (as usual) before a 
 table covered with papers, and apparently 
 dee]3ly engaged writing. On hearing 
 Eustace's name, he instantly started up. 
 Again, as at Elsmere, on the day of the 
 funeral, the blood for a minute crimsoned 
 his pale hollow cheek ; he took his nephew 
 by the hand, with (for him) unusual 
 warmth of manner, and assuring him he 
 did not at all disturb him, bade him sit 
 down ; he then inquired minutely into all 
 Eustace had been doing at Oxford, and 
 about his present residence and occupa- 
 tions. " And you like your profession ?" 
 continued Mr. Lushington, ''and will, I 
 hope, be steady to it, not hke all those
 
 256 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 despicable idle young fellows, I see abont 
 town ; tliey really make me sick, doing 
 nothing from morning till niglit, and worse 
 than nothing. I am glad that is not yonr 
 turn at all events." 
 
 He then inquired how long Eustace was 
 to be in town ? He said, he must be back at 
 Ashford by Saturday. " For your Sunday 
 duty, I suppose ; that is right, never shrink 
 duty. Mr. Watson lodges you at his house, 
 I believe ? — he is a very kind friend, and 
 you know," he added, almost smiling, "he 
 has, somehow, taken a strange fancy to you. 
 I am not sure, whether he was not rather 
 in love with your mother, my sister Lucy, 
 formerly, which perhaps partly accounts 
 for his hking for you. Well, you will come 
 and dine with us to-morrow, and I will 
 send and ask Mr. Watson and your old 
 Roman companion, Ned, to come also. 
 You will find no company that I know of," 
 he added. " I hate company : I wish Mrs. 
 Lushington disliked it as much ; but per- 
 haps, after all that has happened to us, it
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 257 
 
 is better for her it should be as it is. I 
 dare say she is at home now, so you had 
 better go up and see her, and have your 
 meeting over, before you come here to din- 
 ner to-mon'ow;" and without waiting for 
 any answer from Eustace, Mr. Lushington 
 got up, rang the bell, and desired the servant 
 to take Mr. Grey up to the drawing-room. 
 
 All this time, not a word about Lucy ! 
 he never even alluded to her ; perhaps she 
 was not then in Stanhope-street ; per- 
 haps — ! It was in short, as if all that had 
 some months before passed between him 
 and his uncle was indeed quite " gone by," 
 enthely forgotten ! " "What did it all mean ? 
 What new trial was awaiting him ?" Poor 
 Eustace's heart beat so violently as he fol- 
 lowed his conductor up the stairs, he could 
 hardly breathe. 
 
 The servant threw open the door of a 
 longish room, and announced him. There 
 was a person in black seated in an arm 
 chair, at the further end of the apartment ; 
 her back was towards him, and she appeared 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 deeply engaged reading. It was already 
 getting dusk, and the blinds being all down, 
 it was not easy to distinguish any object 
 at a distance. 
 
 After having announced the visitor, the 
 servant left the room, and it was appa- 
 rently the noise made by the closing door, 
 which first roused the figui^e in black. 
 
 Lucy (for it was herself) started from her 
 seat. The book fell from her hand, she 
 looked for a minute at Eustace, as if be- 
 wildered, and the next a scream, half fright, 
 half joy, escaped from her. She rushed 
 up to him, and in such breathless agitation, 
 that before either of them were aware, 
 Eustace had caught her in his arms, and 
 her head had fallen on his breast. How 
 severe a trial was this to poor Eustace, 
 after all his hard struggles with liis pas- 
 sionate affection, to have the object of it 
 thus thrown upon his throbbing heart, and 
 yet not daring to press her to it ; he dared 
 not even speak — scarcely to breathe ! Lucy, 
 too^ was silent !
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 259 
 
 Surprised at length, at her neither 
 moving nor uttering a word, Eustace ven- 
 tured to look dovnx towards her face, 
 putting back her hair, which having fallen 
 over it, entirely covered it. Her cheek 
 was ashy pale : her eyes were closed, even 
 her hps were bloodless . Grreatly alarmed, he 
 lifted her to the nearest couch, and per- 
 ceiving an Eau de Cologne bottle on the 
 table near, he bathed her forehead and 
 hands with it; in a minute or two, she 
 began to revive, and slowly opening her 
 eyes, fixed them steadfastly upon Eustace's 
 face, as if still half doubting who or what 
 she saw. 
 
 Again she closed them ! then once more 
 looked earnestly at him. '' Eustace ! is it 
 possible, is it you?" she said, in a faint, low 
 voice. " I was so startled, so surprised, I 
 so little expected to see 7/ou ! It is very 
 fooUsh of me — such nonsense ! but I some- 
 how am become terribly nervous, the least 
 thing startles me — I am really ashamed ; — 
 but it is all over now, I am quite well;" 
 
 s 2
 
 260 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 and she tried to raise herself from the 
 couch, by the side of which Eustace still 
 knelt, chafing her hands. He helped her 
 to get up, and she tottered to the chair she 
 had before occupied. For a minute or two 
 neither spoke — Eustace standing at her 
 side, his eyes riveted on her face. At 
 last, pointing to a chair by her, she, though 
 still with a trembhng voice, said ; " There, 
 sit down, Eustace, I am quite right again 
 now;" and then, as if wishing to overcome 
 her o^vn agitation, as well as that of Eustace, 
 by talkingof something indifferent, "Do tell 
 me," she continued, " how you came here ? 
 and where you come from ? — and where you 
 have been this long, long while? — I thought 
 you had quite forgotten me," she added, 
 with a look of reproach. — " Do you know 
 how long it is since I have seen you ? not 
 since March, 1828 !" and she counted the 
 number of months on her fingers; " actually 
 twenty months ! and you never even wrote 
 to papa, at least he never said he had heard 
 from you; and somehow," she added.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 261 
 
 slightly colouring, "I never liked to ask him 
 about you. And so much has happened ! 
 that dreadful day at Elsmere ! and when 
 you never came near me ! — I heard your 
 voice — I heai'd you speaking to the ser- 
 vant — I thought you were certainly coming 
 to me, and, on the contrary, I saw you 
 walk away, so fast ! and I so needed some 
 friend, some comfort, I felt so alone !" and 
 poor Lucy shuddered at the recollection of 
 that melancholy day. 
 
 " Grood heaven 1" thought Eustace ; 
 " then she knows nothing 1 Her father can 
 never have told her ! She is not aware 
 that I was forbidden — proscribed 1 How 
 strange ! how inexpKcable !" 
 
 Thus occupied with his own bewildering 
 thoughts, Eustace did not make any answer, 
 and Lucy continued — "Where do you come 
 from to-day ? — Are you living in London ? 
 How is yom' nameless friend ? — Is he still 
 keeping you in the same strict order?" 
 Lucy's questions succeeded each other so 
 rapidly, Eustace luckily could not answer
 
 262 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 them; indeed she seemed in so nervously 
 excited a state, as if she hardly knew her- 
 self what she said. "And are jon going 
 to remain in London ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Only till Saturday/' he repHed. 
 
 " Why only till Saturday ? Where are 
 you going to ?" 
 
 " Home," said Eustace, in a tremulous 
 voice. 
 
 " Home ? I suppose you mean to Ox- 
 ford ?" 
 
 " 'No," — and again, for some reason, his 
 voice faltered — "to my curacy at Ashford." 
 
 " What ! are you actually settled as a 
 clergyman ?" she exclaimed ; and then look- 
 ing steadfastly at him, " Oh yes ! I see the 
 black dress and white neckcloth ! I thought 
 you looked somehow diiferent from usual, 
 and could not make out what it was ; hut 
 I don't Hke that white neckcloth half so 
 well as my old friend the black silk, for 
 you don't look like yourself with it ; how- 
 ever, I am glad to see none of that non- 
 sense of clergymen now-a-day, who seem
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 263 
 
 to wish to make themselves look like 
 Eoman Catholic priests ! But you are alto- 
 gether so mu(;h changed, Eustace ! — You 
 seem to me to be grown so tall ! — and your 
 shoulders so broad — and you are, if pos- 
 sible, still more pale than when you were 
 at Eome — I hope you have not again been 
 studying too hard, and doing penance for 
 your sins. — Well," she added, with the 
 kindest smile, and holding out her hand to 
 him, with the hearty famiharity of former 
 days, " changed or not, I am 'ceiy, very 
 glad to see you again !" 
 
 Poor Eustace was altogether too much 
 overcome and bewildered to speak, and he 
 dared not press her hand in return ; tears 
 started into liis eyes, and suddenly rising 
 from his seat — " Is Mrs. Lushington not 
 at home ?" he inquired ; '^ I thought she 
 had been here." 
 
 " No, she is gone out with Lady Eains- 
 forth." 
 
 " Oh !" said Eustace, in an absent man- 
 ner — then in a minute added hurriedly,
 
 264 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " I suppose I sliould go now ; Mr. Watson 
 will be expecting me !" 
 
 " What are you going to liim for ? I 
 am sure there must be plenty of room for 
 you here — and he lives so far off!" 
 
 " He kindly takes me into his house to- 
 night," said Eustace ; " he is a very, very 
 kind friend to me 1" and again tears, not- 
 withstanding his efforts to restrain them, 
 forced themselves from the eyes of Eustace, 
 and he seized his hat to go. 
 
 " When shall I see you again, Eustace?" 
 Lucy inquired. 
 
 " Your father has invited me to dine 
 here to-morrow, with Mr. Watson and 
 Ned," he replied. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad !" she exclaimed ; 
 and asrain she held out her hand to him. 
 " And I promise ! I will not make such 
 a fool of myself any more ; I really am so 
 ashamed. I don't know what came over 
 me, but in the dusk you seemed to me to 
 be an apparition I and it was so long, so 
 very long since I had seen you! Oh,
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 265 
 
 Eustace, it was not right to forget your 
 old playfellow. I never should have ex- 
 pected that of you." 
 
 Eustace could not stand this any longer. 
 He convulsively pressed the hand of Lucy, 
 and rushed out of the room. 
 
 He had not been long gone before Mrs. 
 Lushington returned home : she came 
 into the room in a prodigious flm-ry. 
 
 " And so Eustace Grey has cast up 
 again," she exclaimed, " and has been 
 here ! AYhat in the world is he come to 
 London for ? I thought he was at Oxford 
 studying, or doing something of that 
 sort, — and it seems you have seen him ?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma, he is only just gone; he 
 wished to see you, but said he could not 
 wait." 
 
 " Oh yes, I dare say ! but he will do 
 very well without seeing me I Avarrant ! 
 and I beg you will not encourage his 
 visits — it is not at all what I apj^rove 
 of. I am sure Lady Eainsforth never 
 allows young men to visit her daughters
 
 266 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 when she is out : I never heard of such a 
 thing ! And it was very forward and im- 
 pertinent of Eustace to come in that 
 sneaking sort of manner ; but as I have 
 told you before, he knows nothing of the 
 world or good manners ; it may be all very 
 well at Oxford, where they know no better, 
 but here these free-and-easy ways will 
 never do, as I shall take the hberty of tell- 
 ing him ; and I wonder how you could 
 ever think of such a thing, as desire to 
 have a young man let in, when I. am 
 out." 
 
 " Indeed, mamma, I knew nothing about 
 the matter till I saw him, and I was so 
 startled. I" — Lucy stopped, but after a 
 minute, with suffused cheeks, she added : 
 " Papa has asked him to dinner here 
 to-morrow, and Mr. Watson and his son 
 with him, for he is staying with Mr. 
 Watson." 
 
 " The Watsons dine here to-morrow !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Lushington, mth a look of 
 horror. *' What can your father be thinking
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. .267 
 
 of? AATiyXed Watson is enough to frigliten 
 away all good company fi'om the house ; 
 and I have asked Lord and Lady Eains- 
 forth and Lord Pamell to come to us to- 
 morrow, in a quiet, family sort-of-way, and 
 a pretty sort of family party it Avill be ! 
 I shall be really quite ashamed — and don't 
 know what in the world I am to do !" 
 
 " Oh, do nothing, dear mamma!" said 
 Lucy, whose face had become somewhat 
 flushed on hearing Lord Parnell was to be 
 of the party (whether from pleasure or 
 vexation it was impossible to say) : "we 
 shall all do very well. What does it 
 signify ? And Ned Watson will talk for 
 us all !" 
 
 " It is very easy to say it ' dont signify,^ 
 but it does signify a great deal, and I must 
 go and explain it all to Lady Eainsforth 
 to-morrow morning, or she may take it 
 quite amiss, as a personal afli'ont." 
 
 " AVhat, mamma?" 
 
 " Why, my asking such company to 
 meet her as these Watsons, and Eustace
 
 268 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 too, who I suppose will be preaching one 
 of his dismal sermons to us, the whole 
 time ! Very provoking !" 
 
 Accordingly next morning, as early as 
 it was possible (at the West End) to make 
 visits, Mrs. Lushington ordered her car- 
 riage, and hurried to Belgravia to tell her 
 griefs to Lady Eainsforth ; for all remon- 
 strance with Mr. Lushington she knew 
 would be vain, and he had besides gone 
 very early that morning to the city on 
 particular business. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Lady Eainsforth !" ex- 
 claimed Mrs, Lushington, before she and 
 her rich rustling, well be-flounced, black 
 silk gown, had scarcely got into the room 
 (for the family were still in mourning for 
 Frederick, and Mrs. Lushington was hy 
 way of not having yet returned to the 
 world), " I am come to you terribly early 
 I fear, but I am in such distress ! I don't 
 know what to do !" 
 
 " Dear me, how you alarm me !" ex- 
 claimed Lady Eainsforth. " Pray sit down
 
 THE OLD GREY CHrRCH. 269 
 
 here, iu this arm chair, and shall I get you 
 some sal volatile ? But what is it ?" 
 
 '' Oh, it is a great many its ! — In the 
 first place, there is that tiresome, trouhle- 
 some Eustace Grrey, with his solemn face, 
 started up again ! and you know he is a 
 positive thorn in my side, and when I 
 thought we had quite got rid of him 1 
 AMiere he comes fi'om, or what has 
 brought him to town, I don't know, but — 
 will you beheve it?^ — yesterday, when 
 you dropped me at home (after our de- 
 lightful drive), I found he had been, I do 
 believe, above an hour closeted with 
 Lucy !" 
 
 " Closeted with ]\riss Lushington ! you 
 don't say so ! how very shocking ! but 
 where ?" inquired Lady Eainsforth, in an 
 absent manner, plainly proving her mind 
 had wandered far away from her dear 
 friend's distresses. " In what closet ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean in an actual closet ; 
 of coui'se, in the dra\^ing-room." 
 
 "Oh, weU! I breathe!" said Lady
 
 270 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Rainsfortli, trying to smother a yawn. " I 
 thought ! — I really don't know what I 
 thought, hut still it is very dreadful !" 
 
 " How kind you are," said Mrs. Lush- 
 ington, " to enter so into my feelings ! hut 
 I was sure you would he shocked, and I 
 told Lucy so. But that is not the worst 
 part of the story." 
 
 " E'ot the worst ! you don't mean they 
 have eloped together ?" 
 
 " Oh dear no ! nothing of all that ; hut 
 Mr. Lushington (who somehow of late 
 never thinks ahout anything) to my very 
 great distress, asked Eustace Grey to dine 
 with us to-day in Stanhope-street, and I 
 am so distressed ! When you said you 
 would he so kind as come and take a quiet 
 family dinner with us ; for I am sure it is 
 very kind of any one coming to us, such a 
 dismal moping life as we lead now." And 
 Mrs. Lushington held up a bit of her mag- 
 nificent black dress, to show to what she 
 alluded. 
 
 " Oh, if that is all," rejoined Lady
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 271 
 
 Eainsforth, '' pray don't distress yourself. 
 I am very sorry if the intiraacy between 
 Mr. Grey and your daughter annoys you, 
 but for my part, I think him a very good- 
 looking, gentleman-like, pleasant young 
 man." 
 
 " Oh, but that is not all yet, for Mr. 
 Lushington, not content with thwarting all 
 my plans for my nice little quiet party to- 
 day (for I have asked Lord Parnell to meet 
 you), has gone and invited Mr. Watson 
 and his son, whom you saw at Eome, you 
 know, (such a cub !) to dine in Stanhope- 
 street also, and I am sure it will be very 
 annoying to you and Lord Eainsforth ! 
 Such company !" 
 
 " Oh, pray don't worry yourself at all 
 about the matter, dear Mrs. Lushington; 
 once in a way, it really don't signify. In- 
 deed it is very diverting, seeing people 
 belonging to quite another sphere from 
 oneself. I dare say I shall be vastly 
 amused, and I will prepare Lord Eains- 
 forth for what he is to encoimter."
 
 272 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 "Well, that will be so kind of you," 
 said Mrs. LusMngton, tenderly pressing 
 her friend's right honourable hand. " But 
 — but still — Lord Parnell ! What am I to 
 do about him ? there is no time to put him 
 off, as I can't say we are all ill or dead, if 
 you and Lord Eainsforth come. What will 
 he say? What wiU he think?" 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Lady Eainsforth, 
 "Lord Parnell is so — so amiable." She 
 added, after a moment's reflection, " I dare 
 say he will not think anything about it ;" 
 ("or indeed about anything else," she 
 added to herself). 
 
 " Yes, he is a very steady, quiet, modest 
 young man," said Mrs. Lushington ; " but 
 I dare say, he has a great deal in him, 
 notwithstanding he is so quiet." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say !" repeated Lady 
 Eainsforth, perceiving the drift of Mrs. 
 Lushington's commendation, " he is indeed 
 a very quiet young man !" 
 
 "Yes," continued Mrs. Lushington, 
 " and he has, as I know from his sister.
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 273 
 
 Lady Emily Maxwell, taken sucli a fancy 
 to Lucy ! and — and that would be such a 
 good tiling for lier, now, poor girl, in lier 
 situation ! Both brothers gone, and she 
 left in a manner so unprotected ! And as 
 I, of course, can't live for ever," — and Mrs. 
 Lushington sighed most pathetically over 
 her own possible mortahty — " it would be 
 such a comfort to me to leave my dear girl 
 in such good hands !" 
 
 " Yes ; and with an earl's coronet on 
 her head," thought Lady Eaiosforth ; but 
 of course she kept her thoughts to herself, 
 merely applauding Mrs. Lushington for 
 her great prudence in selecting so excellent 
 a young man as her son-in-law — so quiet 
 and unpresuming. The friends then 
 parted, Lady Eainsforth promising to be 
 punctual at half-past seven, for their 
 " nice little family party ;" and Mrs. 
 Lushington somewhat relieved in mind, 
 in consequence of having poured out all 
 her distresses into so sympathising and 
 friendly an ear, returned home to give some 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 especial directions to her housekeeper 
 about cakes and ices for the dessert. 
 
 The dinner-hour arrived, and so did the 
 guests who were to partake of the enter- 
 tainment ; and when Mr. Watson, his son, 
 and Eustace, were ushered into the draw- 
 ing-room. Lord Parnell was abeady reclin- 
 ing at his ease in the arm-chair by the fire, 
 Mrs. Lushington making the agreeable to 
 him close at his elbow, and Lady Eains- 
 forth and Lucy on a couch opposite. 
 
 Mrs. Lushington's reception of the 
 Watsons, pere et fiis, was dignified; for 
 intimate as she was with the former at 
 Elsmere, it did not suit her to be so at 
 that moment in Stanhope-street. As for 
 Eustace, a distant, cold bow of the head 
 was all she vouchsafed him. 
 
 Lady Eainsforth had settled it with 
 herself that she would be, that evening, 
 condescending and charniing to Mrs. Lush- 
 ington's vulgar friends ; not, it is to be 
 feared, on any principle of Christian 
 charity and humility, but rather in order
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 275 
 
 to show her great superiority, which was 
 not to be any way affected by coUision 
 with what was inferior ; whereby she had 
 the satisfaction of giving" a sort of side- 
 blow to her dear friend, Mrs. Lushington. 
 She had also another object in view that 
 evening, namely, of thwarting and plagu- 
 ing that same dear friend as much as she 
 could, by especially protecting Eustace 
 Grrey, and endeavouring as much as pos- 
 sible, by her manoeuvres, to throw him 
 and Lucy together. Accordingly, on liis 
 arrival with the Watsons, she welcomed 
 him in a most easy, famihar, protecting 
 manner, acknowledging him as an old 
 Eoman acquaintance, delighted to see him 
 again looking so well, &c., &c. Eustace 
 was not quite prepared for such a flatter- 
 ing reception (not knowing the dessous des 
 cartes), and it almost emboldened him to 
 take possession of the vacant place on the 
 couch by Lucy ; but chancing to catch a 
 glance of his aunt's eye fixed upon him, 
 and recalling her chilling reception of him, 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 he thought it better to deny himself the 
 gratification, and gradually retreated to- 
 ward the end of the room, where gentlemen 
 are somehow apt to congregate if dinner 
 is tardy in being announced. Ned was 
 among those thus drawn up, and giving 
 Eustace a nudge, as he winked his eye 
 towards Lord ParneU in his place d'hon- 
 neur — '' There, I told you so. I really 
 should advise you to look sharp, or depend 
 upon it the coronet will carry the day. But 
 my I what a shabby-looking thing it is, for 
 a lord ! I really should advise his lordship 
 never to go about without his earl's balls 
 being firmly tacked to his head, for fear 
 he should be mistaken for the second 
 footman." 
 
 At this moment the door was tlu-ov-m 
 open by the butler announcing dinner ; 
 and Mr^ Lushington and Lady Eains- 
 forth proceeded down stairs together in 
 due form. 
 
 ''Come, Lord Eainsforth," said Mrs. 
 Juu^^migioii, playfully taking hold of his
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 277 
 
 lordship's arm, " you shall escort me, and 
 we will leave the young people to take 
 care of themselves, and follow as they 
 please," saying which, she looked back, 
 and gave a little sly nod to Lord Parnell, 
 who, having by this time discovered that 
 the business of the moment was to go to 
 dinner, languidly rose from his fauteuil, 
 and without saying a word, offered his 
 arm to Lucy as a thing of course, and 
 the three remaining gentlemen then fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Lord Parnell was (unfortunately for 
 him) most peculiarly disgracie de la Na- 
 ture (as Ned Watson had remarked) ; nor 
 had she (Nature) in any way made up to 
 him in mental quahfications for his defi- 
 ciencies in personal attractions. He had 
 just sufficient acuteness to be aware that 
 " his face would never make his fortune " 
 with the fair sex, so that there was no- 
 thing left for him but to take up the 
 profession of finery and dandyism — one, 
 fortunately for society, now exploded,
 
 278 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 being fairly put out of countenance by that 
 of miKtary fame ; so that not even mous- 
 taches, favourites, or even the Newgate 
 frill, can bestow upon any one a fictitious 
 consequence without some real merit to 
 enhance their value. It was entirely at 
 the suggestion of his sister Lady Emily 
 Maxwell, that Lord Parnell had ever 
 turned his thoughts towards the banker's 
 daughter. And supposing his coronet 
 w^ould do the business for him without 
 any particular trouble on his part, he 
 allovjed himself to be made love to by 
 Mrs. Lushington, concluding " all the rest 
 would follow of course.'' As to making 
 the agreeable, that, indeed, would rather 
 have puzzled poor Lord Parnell, even 
 with the best intentions. He had, in 
 consequence of Mrs. Lushington's ma- 
 noeuvres, this day taken Lucy to dinner, 
 and was therefore, of course, seated by 
 her ; but what more to do, he really did 
 not know, it being no longer the fashion 
 for gentlemen to ask ladies to drink wine
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 279 
 
 — the only attention wliich suggested 
 itself to his lordship's mind. 
 
 By the time Mr. Watson, [N'ed, and 
 Eustace entered the dining-room, Mrs. 
 Lushington was abeady seated in her 
 place, Lords Eainsforth on her right and 
 Parnell on her left, Lucy being, of course, 
 next the latter. 
 
 "Mr. Watson! Mr. Watson!" cried 
 Mrs. Lushington, from the upper end of 
 the dinner-table, as he and his two com- 
 panions entered the room ; " come up 
 here by Lucy : you have not met for so 
 long a time, you must have a great deal 
 to say to each other." 
 
 Mr. AYatson, however, did not^ or would 
 not hear Mrs. Lushington's commands, 
 and persisted in making for the opposite 
 side of the table, where there was a vacant 
 place between Lord and Lady Eainsforth. 
 Thus thwarted in her plans, Mrs. Lushing- 
 ton became every minute more and more 
 excited, and redder and redder, for she fore- 
 saw that the very thing she particularly
 
 280 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 wished to avoid was about to take place 
 (namely, Eustace getting next to Lucy). 
 Again slie renewed her vociferations — 
 " Mr. "Watson ! Mr. Watson ! come on 
 this side — up here !" until at length Ned, 
 although rather surprised at the unlooked- 
 for proposed distinction, thinking now it 
 could only be himself that Mrs. Lushing- 
 ton was addressing, boldly moved forward, 
 and casting a glorieux look at his friend 
 Eustace, as he brushed past him, at once 
 seated himself by Lucy, by which means 
 — there being only one remaining place 
 vacant — (that between Ned and Mr. Lush- 
 ington) — Eustace had no choice but to 
 take possession of it. Poor Mr. Watson, 
 who had, in the kindness of his heart, 
 pm-posely turned a deaf ear to Mrs. Lush- 
 ington's commands, in order that Eustace 
 should get by Lucy (for he had long 
 since discovered liis young friend's secret), 
 looked things unutterable across the table 
 at poor Ned ; but it was too late now to 
 repau' his blunder, for all were fixed in
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 281 
 
 tlieir places, and the business part of 
 dinner had actually begun. 
 
 During all these proceedings, Lucv had 
 never once looked up from the plate before 
 her, the pattern of which she seemed to be 
 still Examining, as if she had never seen it 
 before; while Ned, somewhat elated by 
 his unlooked-for distinction, and thinking 
 it incumbent upon him, in consequence, 
 to make the agreeable to the young lady, 
 whom he fancied himself to be thus espe- 
 cially called upon to entertain, imme- 
 diately addressed Lucy. 
 
 " Well, Miss Lushington, which do 
 you like best, London or Eome ?" 
 
 " Indeed, they are so different," rephed 
 Lucy, rather disposed to laugh at so abrupt 
 and widely -comprehensive a question, " it 
 is difficult to say ; the two places are so 
 totally unhke. But," she added, as if in 
 reply to her own thoughts, rather than 
 Ned's inquuy, " / was ve?'^ happy at 
 Eome." 
 
 " Well, for my part," continued Ned,
 
 282 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " I can't find out what there is at Eome 
 to make such a fuss about ; it seemed to 
 me to be the dullest of all places. Doesn't 
 your lordship agree with me ?" he added, 
 addressing Lord Parnell, who never having 
 yet uttered a word, Ned, in his zeal to be 
 agreeable, thought it his duty to draw 
 out. 
 
 Lord Parnell, thus addressed by name, 
 looked up, staring stedfastly at Ned for a 
 minute, as if wondering what genus of 
 the biped part of creation he might be- 
 long to ; and then, without vouchsafing 
 him any answer, turned to Lucy, saying 
 in a sleepy sort of drawling voice, '' I 
 believe it was at Eome you made ac- 
 quaintance with my sister Emily. It 
 was the fashion, a year or two ago, to go 
 to Eome ; but it is gone by now, I think, 
 and I am glad of it, for it would be a 
 deuced bore to go so far to see I am sure 
 I don't very well know what." 
 
 " I quite agree with yom' lordship," 
 again put in Ned ; " but I thought it
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 283 
 
 was tlie right tiling for such persons as 
 you to go to Eome to finish your educa- 
 tion/' 
 
 Again Lord Parnell stared at N'ed, with- 
 out vouchsafing him any answer whatever ; 
 but nothing daunted, Ned went on — 
 
 '' For my part, I would not give a far- 
 thing for any place without a playhouse, 
 or Astley's, or something of that sort, 
 however many churches there may be — 
 and there are certainly plenty of them at 
 Rome, that one must own ; I can't con- 
 ceive how they find people to go to them 
 aU." 
 
 Still Lord Parnell took no notice what- 
 ever of poor Ned's observations, nor, in- 
 deed, of anything else ; but suddenly 
 addressing Lucy, as if at last he had 
 thought of something to say to her — " I 
 suppose Almacks will now be soon be- 
 ginning; and certainly we need some- 
 thing, it is so horribly duU now in 
 London. Of course you go to Almacks ?" 
 
 " I believe mamma has appUed for a sub-
 
 284 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 scription," said she ; " and I hope we shall 
 succeed, for they are most delightful balls." 
 
 '' Yes, they would be well enough 
 if it was not for the dancing ; but dancing 
 is such a bore !" 
 
 " AYeU, I quite agree with your lord- 
 ship," said Xed, bursting into a loud 
 laugh ; "it is, indeed, a ' bore ,•' that is to 
 say, these new-fashioned dances, those 
 horrid quadiilles ; for as for a good, ho- 
 nest country-dance, there can't be better 
 fim ; but I really had rather be drawn and 
 quartered than go tlirough that horrible 
 Cavalier seul in a quadrille — not having 
 an idea what to do with my arms and 
 legs, first going forward, and then back- 
 ward, for no reason whatever, and feeling 
 like a fool all the time. Don't you un- 
 derstand what I mean, my lord ? Don't 
 you always feel like a fool when you are 
 ' Cavalier seul ?' " 
 
 Lord Parnell cast at poor Xed a look of 
 the most ineffable contempt and disgust, 
 without vouchsafing a word in reply, and
 
 THE OLD &REY CHURCH. 285 
 
 the indefatigable Ned continued : "As 
 you don't seem to care for balls, perhaps 
 theatres may be your favourite amuse- 
 ment, and I must say they are capital 
 fun ;" and, stretching still' further across 
 Lucy, to address Lord Parnell, hoping 
 he had at last hit upon the right topic to 
 engage his attention, — " Of course, your 
 lordship has seen the new farce at the 
 Adelphi, ' The Smart Repartee.' Is it 
 not capital?'' 
 
 Thus again personally applied to. Lord 
 Parnell was obliged, at last, to make some 
 answer, and in an angry tone said, " I 
 don't know anything about it. I hate 
 plays — too much trouble. I never go to 
 the play." 
 
 " Dear me, how^ odd !" said Ned, vAi\\ 
 actually a sigh at the degeneracy of taste in 
 the peerage. " ^^Hi}^, I would go to the play 
 every night if I could ; and this farce beats 
 everything I ever saw. I wanted Grrey 
 to go there with me this evening, for it is 
 acted to-night ; but he, too, says he never
 
 286 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 goes to theatres, like your lordship ; but 
 his reason, I do believe, is that he thinks it 
 wrong. Such a strange idea ! But, between 
 you and I, Miss Lushington, our friend 
 Grey, though a capital fellow, is full of all 
 sorts of queer notions about what is right 
 and wTong. For my part, I can't see if 
 one pays one's money honestly at the door, 
 and one don't join in any row in the pit 
 (which, certainly, is not very gentle- 
 manlike), what harm one can do by going 
 to the play. But do, pray, go and see 
 this farce, my lord ; you will be delighted. 
 There is a new actor come out in it, per- 
 fectly inimitable ! and w^lien, on his quar- 
 relling with the hair-dresser (in his part, 
 I mean, of course), he gives him a slap on 
 the face, the whole house was in a roar of 
 laughter. The galleries, indeed, wanted 
 to encore it, and there Avas a famous row 
 for some time, and I clapped my hands 
 till they tingled again ; but, at last, the 
 manager himself came forward, and said 
 that he was afraid, if the slap in the face
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 287 
 
 was repeated, it would quite spoil its 
 effect ; so, with that apology, all were 
 satisfied, and we tlien all applauded tlie 
 manager ; but, for my part, I must ot\ti, 
 I was quite disappointed." 
 
 Eustace had caught the sound of his 
 own name, when his friend Ned had dis- 
 cant^d on his pecuHar notions of right 
 and wrong; but Mr. Lushington at that 
 moment inqmring of him at what hour 
 he left London next day, he heard no 
 more ; and Xed, dm-ing the whole of the 
 time, had tm-ned himself so entirely to- 
 wards Lucy and Lord Parnell, with his 
 back to Eustace, that he was entirely cut 
 off from all possibility of joining in their 
 conversation, and sat silent, and ab- 
 sorbed in his own thoughts ; for his uncle 
 scarcely spoke either to him or Lady Eains- 
 forth, who was on the other side, and she, 
 in pursuance of her previous intention of 
 being, that evening, charming to Mrs. 
 Lushington's guests, devoted herself en- 
 tu'ely to Mr. Watson, vdth whom she
 
 2(5(5 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 never ceased joking about " Three per 
 Cent. Consols.'' 
 
 Wliat poor Eustace's thoughts were, as 
 he thus sat, absent and absorbed, he per- 
 haps could hardly have been able to tell 
 himself, they were so contradictory, so 
 perplexing. Why had his uncle himself 
 proposed his coming now to Stanhope- 
 street ? Why had he received him so 
 kindly? Why did he invite him that 
 day to his house, after having so plainly 
 and so decidedly forbid his entering it ? 
 Why was all this? except that he con- 
 sidered all danger was now over with 
 regard to Lucy, she being about to be 
 united to another. — But Lucy marry 
 Lord Parnell ! — that could not be ! And 
 Eustace actually felt the colour rising to 
 his face in indignation at the bare idea of 
 such a possibility. 
 
 Dinner, dessert, all was, at last, over, 
 and the ladies went up-stairs to the draw- 
 ing-room, where they were, before long, 
 joined by Lord Parnell, he having evi-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 289 
 
 dently left tlie dining-room in an extremely 
 bad humour; for Ned's easy vulgarity 
 had greatly offended his lordship, and alto- / 
 
 gether he felt as if his four balls had not .-^^</->«- 
 been treated with the respect due to them. 
 Without, therefore, uttering a word to 
 any one he took the offered coffee which 
 the servant was at that moment carrying 
 about; then walked straight up to the 
 fire-place (devoting some minutes to the 
 contemplation of himself in the mirror 
 over the mantelpiece, running his fingers 
 through his hair, and adjusting the cor- 
 ners of his shirt collar), and being, at last, 
 apparently satisfied with his appearance, 
 he, with the ^4ew, probably, of punishing 
 the ladies for the want of respect shown 
 him by the gentlemen in the dining-room 
 (for Mr. Lushington had never even 
 spoken to him), he took up the news- 
 paper, and retreated with it into the arm- 
 chair in a regular pet ; for he had not 
 altogether been made love to as much as 
 he expected, and he had no idea of sub- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 290 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 mitting to such careless treatment, when 
 condescending to take notice of a banker's 
 daughter. (The girl herself was well 
 enough, but her friends were really not to 
 be home.) Mrs. Lushmgton at once saw 
 something had gone wrong, and she did 
 all she could to coax his lordship into good 
 humour by again placing herself at his 
 elbow ; but it would not do — Lord Parnell 
 was mortally offended at something or with 
 somebody, and persisted in sulkily study- 
 ing the news of the day. Before very 
 long, the rest of the gentlemen made their 
 appearance, all but Ned "Watson, he 
 having (as he told Eustace he intended 
 doing) "shpped off" to liis dear Adelphi, 
 in hopes of being in time for " the slap in 
 the facer "for," he added, " reaUy that 
 Lord Parnell is much too slow a coach 
 for me, and I think I had better take 
 myself off, not to make you jealous, my 
 good friend." 
 
 On her return to the drawing-room, 
 Lady Eainsforth had again placed lierself
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 291 
 
 -on the same couch, and again bade Lucy sit 
 by her, and as soon as Mr. Watson made his 
 appearance, she called to him to take the 
 arm-chair on the other side, as she wanted, 
 she said, to hear a little more about the 
 Three per Cent. Consols, '' heing particu- 
 larly/ interested in them;" by which ma- 
 noeuvre the place next Lucy, at the 
 further end of the couch, was again unoc- 
 cupied, and a look from her encouraging 
 Eustace to venture, he at once took 
 possession of it, for which arrange- 
 ment he had to thank Lady Eainsforth's 
 amiable determination to torment and 
 annoy her dear friend Mrs. Lushington, 
 by throwing Lucy and Eustace as much 
 as possible together. 
 
 Lucy welcomed Eustace to her side, with 
 one of her kindest smiles, evidently no way 
 regretting either of her other two dinner 
 companions. 
 
 " Did I hear you say to papa, that you 
 were going away again early to-morrow ? 
 Can't you stay longer ?" 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 " No, I must be back, you know, for 
 Sunday's duty." 
 
 " And will you not be able to return 
 here soon again ? I liave scarcely seen 
 you, and it seems as if I bad so much to 
 say to you, and to ask of you, and we are 
 really now such strangers I so unlike for- 
 mer days at Elsmere, tbose bappy days ! 
 
 " Is it a pleasant place where you are 
 now living ?" 
 
 " Oh, as to pleasant, I don't know 
 exactly ; it is a quiet little country village 
 — pretty enough country about." 
 
 '' Have you pleasant neighbours ? good 
 society ?" 
 
 " I really know nothing about the 
 neighbours or the society," said Eustace. 
 " Of course, there is a squire of the 
 parish, but beyond seeing the top of his 
 bald head in his pew at church, I know 
 nothing about liim. I am only assistant- 
 curate, so below his notice," he added, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Sm-ely, it must be very dull," re-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 293 
 
 marked Lucy, after a moment's pause, 
 " li\'ing so alone, and in such a place ?" 
 
 " I have not tiiiu to be dull — I have so 
 much to do." 
 
 " Eeally ! what sort of things do you 
 do?" 
 
 " Oh, I can hardly tell, and my occupa- 
 tions would not, perhaps, strike you as 
 very amusing in their relation : looking 
 aft-er the schools, visiting my sick or sorry 
 parishioners, writing my sermons, and all 
 that sort of thing." 
 
 " Well, I can't say all that does sound 
 
 particularly agreeable or diverting ; and 
 
 do you never do anj'tliing else ? Do you 
 
 actually never dine out, or see any one 
 
 but your sick neighbours ?" 
 
 " No, I cannot say I do." 
 
 Lucy made no immediate reply, and 
 
 appeared ruminating on Eustace's account 
 
 of his life and occupations. At length, 
 
 with a sigh, she said, " It must be very 
 
 dull indeed ! I don't wonder now you look 
 
 so grave. But is that sort of life al-
 
 294 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 ways to continue ?" she inquii*ed, rather 
 anxiously. " I had no idea it was so 
 melancholy and stupid a thing being a 
 clergyman." 
 
 " 'No, I shall not continue long where I 
 am at present ; it is only a temporary 
 arrangement, till I take priests' orders ; 
 what will then happen, I don't know." 
 
 The " grei/ old church steeple " at 
 Elsmere at that moment started up un- 
 bidden before the eyes of Eustace, and he 
 coloured. Whether the same thought 
 had crossed Lucy's mind also, he could 
 not tell; but she was silent, and pre- 
 occupied for a minute or two, and then 
 again looking earnestly at him, " Is there 
 any chance of your making us a visit at 
 Elsm.ere at Christmas, as in former days ? 
 You used always to come to us then, you 
 know— those happy former days ! All is 
 so changed now, you can have no idea how 
 much changed ! I used to think Elsmere 
 such a bright, cheerful, pretty place ; and 
 now I am sure I should like to think I
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 295 
 
 was never to see it ao^ain ! All tlie rooms 
 SO empty — the house so quiet, and some- 
 how, now, I can't care even for my garden ! 
 and the hours we used, you and I, to labour 
 in it. But that is, I suppose, because I 
 am gro^ni old ! And as for the church 
 and chm'chyard, which you know we used 
 to admire so much, I would not now go 
 into it alone for the whole world — I am 
 grown so terribly nervous ! It was that 
 which made me behave so ridiculously 
 yesterday. I never heard the servant 
 open the door and name you ; and when, 
 on a sudden, I turned round and saw your 
 figure and your face (certainly more like a 
 ghost's than anything alive), I really 
 thought I beheld an apparition. So silly ! 
 but I dare say it is because I am so much 
 alone, and think and think, till all sorts 
 of foolish fancies come into my head. 
 And then poor papa ! he really makes me 
 miserable ! He has never recovered 
 Frederick's death ; and no wonder, it was 
 so dreadful ! And he does look so
 
 296 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 wretched ! If you could come to us at 
 Christmas, it would really be a charity — a 
 something, too, to look to. Is it quite im- 
 possible ?" Still no answer from Eustace, 
 and Lucy continued (betraying her own 
 thoughts, which were evidently bent on 
 discovering the footing upon which 
 Eustace and his uncle now were), " I am 
 sure papa seems very glad to see you 
 again, his manner to you is just what it 
 ever was." Again no reply, and Lucy 
 turned hastily towards Eustace, to discover 
 the cause of his silence. But she as 
 hastily again turned away, for his coun- 
 tenance betrayed evident marks of the 
 most painful emotion ; his face was as 
 deadly pale as when she had been startled 
 by it the previous day, and the paper he 
 was pretending to be reading shook in his 
 hands. 
 
 During aU this time, Mrs. Lushington's 
 eyes had been riveted upon Lucy and her 
 companion on the couch. Nothing had 
 escaped her, and she had not heard two
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 297 
 
 words of Lord Eainsfortli's wearisome 
 prose for the last half-liour, in lier anxiety 
 to devise some means for putting an end 
 to the cousins' evidently interesting com- 
 munications. Lord Parnell was, as before, 
 studying the newspapers, and Lady Eains- 
 forth still in close confab with Mr. Watson. 
 What could she do to make a stir, and get 
 Eustace away from the couch ? So stupid 
 of Lady Eainsforth, and after all that she 
 liad said to her that morning ! Every 
 minute poor LLrs. Lushington's state of 
 worry and fidget increased, until, to her 
 inexpressible relief, the door opened, and 
 Lady Emily, Mr. Maxwell, and Sir Alex- 
 ander Melville were announced. A 
 general move (of which Mr. Lushington 
 took advantage to make his escape) then 
 took place, and Lucy and Eustace both got 
 up from the couch. 
 
 " Well, I do believe you are all asleep !" 
 exclaimed Lady Emily, whose quick eye 
 had in a minute observed that the plan of 
 operations arranged by her and Mrs.
 
 298 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 Lusliington for that evening had entirely 
 failed. '* Why, Parnell ! what in the 
 world are you studying the papers for so 
 assiduously ? This is not the time of 
 year, jou know, for Newmarket news, nor 
 indeed for any other that you care about." 
 And then suddenly percei\ang Eustace, 
 " Oh, I see how it is," thought she to her- 
 self. And with merely a distant inchnation 
 of the head, and " I did not know you were 
 in town, Mr. Grey. Have you been here 
 long ?" Lady Emily, without even waiting 
 for an answer, again turned towards her 
 brother, addressing him in a low whisper. 
 " AVhat, his Holiness Pope Eustace the 
 First !" exclaimed Sir Alexander, on hear- 
 ing Lady Emily name Eustace ; and 
 coming up to him, " Why, where in the 
 world do you come from? But I need 
 not ask. Erom the skies, of course ; for it 
 is so long since I have seen or heard any- 
 thing of you, I conclude you must have 
 died, and of course been canonized ! But 
 since you are again revisiting tliis our
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 299 
 
 lower world, tell me what you are doing 
 at Oxford ? How are you getting on with 
 your tubs and feet-washings ? You basely 
 never let me know when that impressive 
 Christian ceremony was to take place, and 
 I meant most certainly to have attended." 
 
 " Oh, we have not got so far as that 
 yet quite," replied Eustace, endeavouring 
 to recover his composure, and to assume 
 the same flippant tone in order to conceal 
 the real state of his nerves and spmts, 
 " but we are in a fair way, I think." 
 
 " And how have you been passing your 
 time with the big-wigs," continued Sir 
 Alexander. '' I believe there is capital 
 hunting at Oxford, and I have sometimes 
 thought of trj^g to prove my direct 
 lineal descent from that old defunct 
 bishop, who, I suppose, was a great Xim- 
 rod himself (I forget his name), and so 
 become a fellow of All Souls', for the sake 
 of the hunting. Do you hunt much? 
 Oh no, by-the-by, I forgot; you do none 
 of those unholy things. I suppose you
 
 300 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 are now, on the contrary, looking out for 
 a bishopric, or at least for a dean's shovel 
 hat and little black apron; indeed, you 
 already look very like the latter — quite 
 clerical ! I hope Miss Lushington has, 
 with her own fair hands, embroidered for 
 you one of those pretty little black reti- 
 cules which clergymen have to hold their 
 — I don't know what you call them — little 
 bibs and tuckers, which you pious parsons 
 wear round your throats when you mean 
 to be very persuasive. It is a very 
 nice little meritorious work for young 
 ladies, making these said reverend reti- 
 cules ; and they are sold at charitable 
 serioits bazaars, and do an incalculable deal 
 of good, building churches and parsonage- 
 houses, and all sorts of good things. 
 Make her work you one for love (of the 
 Church) of course ! Well, some of these 
 days, if you are not very long-winded, I 
 will come and hear you preach. At what 
 church do you perform? Anywhere in 
 London ?"
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 301 
 
 And thus Sir Alexander went on 
 in his old style of persiflage and ridicnle ; 
 but at that moment, rather to the rehef of 
 Eustace, as it gave him time to recover 
 from his agitation — for agitated indeed he 
 was. All that poor Lucy had said had 
 gone to his heart — the description of her 
 loneliness, her evident total ignorance of 
 her father's feelings and intentions — her 
 apparent wish to dive into that mystery 
 — his own perplexing uncertainties, and 
 being in a manner so tongue-tied by cir- 
 cumstances, that he could not demand an 
 explanation from ]\Ir. Lushington, or even 
 make known to Lucy what he himself did 
 know. AU these thoughts distracted him, 
 and made him Httle fit for bearing a part 
 in the conversation which now took place ; 
 a style at all times most uncongenial to 
 Eustace's taste and turn of mind, and 
 especially so in his present state of spirits. 
 But he had not courage to put an end to 
 the evening (the last, perhaps, which he 
 should ever pass with Lucy) by proposing
 
 30.2 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 to Mr. Watson to go home, thougli it was 
 now far bejond his old friend's habitual 
 hour of retiring for the night, and Eustace 
 plainly saw that he remained only on his 
 account, out of pure benevolence of feeling, 
 remembering — how few do so ! — that he 
 once was young, and that he too had then 
 been in love with a Lucy Lushington ! 
 
 During all tliis time, a sotto voce alter- 
 cation had been going on between Lady 
 Emily and her brother, she bending down 
 over him, so that all that was heard of 
 their conversation were the words — '' Non- 
 sense — bore — impertinence — can't be at 
 the trouble — will do no such thing," ut- 
 tered by his lordship, whose countenance 
 betrayed most unequivocal signs of ill- 
 humour, and at last, after some more vain 
 remonstrances on the part of his sister, 
 Lord Parnell, suddenly throwing down 
 the newspaper, rose from his fauteuil, and 
 at once left the room. 
 
 Poor Lady Emily's vexation was very 
 evident ; she could not in any way rally
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 303 
 
 her spirits, and wlien Lord and Lady 
 Eainsforth took leave of Mrs. Lusliington, 
 being engaged to an assembly near (to 
 her ladj^ship's great professed regret — for 
 she had had a ''delightful evening," such a 
 pleasant party ! and as for dear Mr. "Wat- 
 son, she was perfectly over head and ears 
 in love with him) — Lady Emily declared 
 her intention of accompanying them ; Sir 
 Alexander also took his departure ; and 
 there being now no one left but Mr. 
 Watson and Eustace, the former imme- 
 diately seated himself in Lord Eains- 
 forth' s vacated place on the couch by Mrs. 
 Lushington : thus leaving Eustace and 
 Lucy together on that opposite, to the 
 great annoyance of Mrs. Lushington, who, 
 contrary to all laws of good breeding, gave 
 Mr. Watson various hints, that it was high 
 time he should depart also. " She feared 
 he must be very th'ed, as she was aware 
 he did not often dine out (so kind of him 
 to come at all I) — that it was quite a long 
 journey to Westminster, and that she
 
 304 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 knew he was an early riser, &c. ;" until, 
 at length, so reiterated and unmistakeable 
 were these her hints, that Mr. Watson 
 thought it incumbent upon him to under- 
 stand them. 
 
 When poor Eustace saw him get up 
 from his seat, and hold out his hand to 
 Mrs. Lushington, bidding her good night, 
 aware that the dreadful moment for final 
 departure was come, he felt as if the cir- 
 culation of the blood through his heart, 
 had suddenly stopj)ed altogether. He, 
 for an instant, convulsively grasped 
 Lucy's hand which lay on the couch 
 beside her (the table concealing it from 
 the view of others), and then without 
 uttering a word, he started up and hurried 
 to Mrs. Lushington to take his leave. 
 
 A cold " good night" was all she vouch- 
 safed him, without the slightest expressed 
 wish of ever seeing him again. 
 
 Eustace felt at that moment as if he 
 had lost the power of speech. He merely 
 echoed her cold " good night," and with-
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 305 
 
 out attempting another word, followed 
 Mr. Watson to the door of the room. 
 When there, he once more turned, and 
 looked at Lucy. Her eyes were fixed 
 upon him with a most sorrowful ex- 
 pression, for she felt she was bidding 
 farewell, and she knew not for how long, 
 to the only companion and friend of for- 
 mer days ; she had neither brother, sister, 
 or connection of any sort, to supply his 
 place. Her home at Elsmere had become 
 to her one of gloom and solitude. The 
 dismal circumstances of the last few 
 months had greatly affected her spirits, 
 even her health, and the world (as yet, at 
 least) had not filled up that blank in her 
 existence, of which she had so pathetically 
 complained to Eustace. Lucy cast one 
 more sad look on her old playfellow, and 
 the door closed upon him. 
 
 No one now remained in the drawing- 
 room but Lucy and Mrs. Lushington, on 
 whose face anger was plainly depicted. 
 
 '' Well, I must say, Lucy," she ex- 
 
 YOL. I. X
 
 306 THE OLD GREY CHURCfl. 
 
 claimed, the minute they were alone, 
 " your behaviour this evening has been 
 quite abominable, beyond even what I 
 should have expected of you, when you 
 knew I had asked the Eainsforths and 
 Lord Pamell, on purpose to have a plea- 
 sant little sociable evening. But, in- 
 stead of helping me to entertain them 
 (when, heaven knows, my spirits are little 
 equal to the exertion), you have done 
 nothing the whole time but whisper to 
 Eustace Grey. Such manners ! There is 
 no use getting you into good society, I 
 am sure. I may save myself all that 
 trouble ! and really his impertinence, 
 taking possession of the couch, is beyond 
 even what I should have expected of him, 
 as if he was the person to be attended to 
 ■' — forsooth ! and there was poor Lord 
 Parnell actually obliged to take up the 
 newspaper in self-defence, ha^T.ng no one 
 to speak to. I never knew such man- 
 ners ! ** 
 
 " Indeed, mamma, that was not my
 
 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 307 
 
 fault. I couldj not go and sit by Lord 
 Parnell in the arm-cliair; I suppose he 
 preferred the newspaper, for when he 
 came up, there were plenty of vacant 
 places on the couch and everywhere ; and 
 it was Lady Eainsforth, herself, who 
 made me sit by her there." 
 
 These were stubborn facts not to be 
 denied, so Mrs. Lushington had nothing 
 for it but to exclaim — " Stuff and non- 
 sense ! However, I shall take care nothing 
 of the sort shall ever occur again ; this is 
 the last time Mr. Eustace Grey ever 
 comes here (with my leave, at least), if 
 he can't learn better manners. Eeally 
 you are like two children, talking about 
 nothing but Elsmere 1 and your garden — 
 and such nonsense — for I heard it all. I 
 have really no patience with you !" And 
 with these words, and casting an angry 
 look at poor Lucy, Mrs. Lushington left 
 the room. 
 
 Lucy stood for a moment immoveable — 
 tears trembling in her eyes — then heaving
 
 308 THE OLD GREY CHURCH. 
 
 a deep sigh, she lit the becl-room candle, 
 and went up stairs to her own apartment 
 to dream of former happy days at Els- 
 mere. 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: PRINTED BY VV. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STKEKT,
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 04176814