Delane
 
 3 
 
 L I B RAFIY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS
 
 THE 
 
 L0VEL8 OF ARDEN 
 
 % gflbcl 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET' 
 
 ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN MAXWELL AND CO. 
 
 4 SHOE LANE, FLEET STREET 
 
 1871 
 
 [All rights reserved']
 
 LONDON: 
 
 ROBSON and sons, printers, pancras road, n.w.
 
 
 CONTEXTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 -*-x-^ 
 
 i. Coming Home 
 r ii. Beginning the "World 
 S in. Father and Daughter 
 y 5 ^ iv. Clarissa is ' taken up' 
 V* v. At Hale Castle . 
 
 vi. And this is George Fairfax 
 vii. Dangerous Ground 
 viii. Smouldering Fires 
 ix. Lady Laura diplomatises 
 x. Lady Laura's Preparations 
 xi. Daniel Granger . 
 xii. Mr. Granger is interested 
 xiii. Open Treason 
 xiv. The Morning after 
 r* xv. Chiefly paternal 
 
 xvi. Lord Calderwood is the Cause of Inconve- 
 nience 279 
 
 xvii. ' 'tls deepest \vlnter in lord tlmon's purse' 298 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 24 
 
 37 
 
 56 
 73 
 
 112 
 
 129 
 
 144 
 I6S 
 180 
 196 
 
 212 
 
 228 
 252 
 
 263
 
 MISS BRADDON'S NOVELS. 
 
 Now ready, in Three Editions, viz. — Cheap Edition, 2s., or 
 2s. Gd. cloth ; Parlour Edition, 3s. 6d. ; Library Edition, Frontis- 
 piece and Title-page, Gs. Any Volume may be had separately. 
 
 Lady Audley's Secret. 
 Henry Dunbar. 
 Eleanor's Victory. 
 Aurora Floyd. 
 John Marchmont's Legacy. 
 The Doctor's Wife. 
 Only a Clod. 
 Dead-Sea Fruit. 
 Sir Jasper's Tenant. 
 Fenton's Quest. 
 
 The Lady's Mile. 
 Trail of the Serpent. 
 Lady Lisle. 
 
 Captain of the Vulture. 
 Birds of Prey. 
 Charlotte's Inheritance. 
 Rupert Godwin. 
 Ralph the Bailiff. 
 Run to Earth. 
 
 ' No one can be dull who has a novel by Miss Braddon in hand. The most 
 tiresome journey is beguiled, and the most wearisome illness is brightened, by 
 any of her books.' 
 
 London: Ward, Lock, and Tyler, Paternoster-row.
 
 THE LOYELS OF ARDEK 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 COMING HOME. 
 
 The lamps of the Great Northern Terminus at King's 
 Cross had not long been lighted, when a cab deposited 
 a young lady and her luggage at the departure plat- 
 form. It was an October twilight, cold and gray, and 
 the place had a cheerless and dismal aspect to that 
 solitary young traveller, to whom English life and an 
 English atmosphere were somewhat strange. 
 
 She had been seven years abroad, in a school near 
 Paris ; rather an expensive seminary, where the num- 
 ber of pupils was limited, the masters and mistresses, 
 learned in divers modern accomplishments, numerous, 
 and the dietary of foreign slops and messes without 
 stint. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 55 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Dull and gray as the English sky seemed to her, 
 and dreary as was the aspect of London in October, 
 this girl was glad to return to her native land. She 
 had felt herself very lonely in the French school, 
 forgotten and deserted by her own kindred, a creature 
 to be pitied; and hers was a nature to which pity 
 was a torture. Other girls had gone home to Eng- 
 land for their holidays; but vacation after vacation 
 went by, and every occasion brought Clarissa Lovel 
 the same coldly worded letter from her father, telling 
 her that it was not convenient for him to receive her 
 at home, that he had heard with pleasure of her pro- 
 gress, and that experienced people with whom he had 
 conferred, had agreed with him that any interruption 
 to the regular course of her studies could not fail to 
 be a disadvantage to her in the future. 
 
 ' They are all going home except me, papa,' she 
 wrote piteously on one occasion, ' and I feel as if I 
 were different from them, somehow. Do let me come 
 home to Arden for this one year. I don't think my 
 schoolfellows believe me when I talk of home, and 
 the gardens and the dear old park. I have seen it 
 in their faces, and you cannot think how hard it is 
 to bear. And I want to see you, papa. You must 
 not fancy that, because I speak of these things, T
 
 COMING HOME. 3 
 
 am not anxious for that. I do want to see you very 
 much. By and by, when I am grown-up, I shall seem 
 a stranger to you.' 
 
 To this letter, and to many such letters, Mr. 
 Lovel's reply was always the same. It did not suit 
 his convenience that his only daughter should return 
 to England until her education was completed. Per- 
 haps it would have suited him better could she have 
 remained away altogether ; but he did not say as much 
 as that ; he only let her see very clearly that there was 
 no pleasure for him in the prospect of her return. 
 
 And yet she was glad to go back. At the worst 
 it was going home. She told herself again and again, 
 in those meditations upon her future life which were 
 not so happy as a girl's reveries should be, — she told 
 herself that her father must come to love her in time. 
 She was ready to love him so much on her part ; to 
 be so devoted, faithful, and obedient, to bear so much 
 from him if need were, only to be rewarded with his 
 affection in the end. 
 
 So at eighteen years of age Clarissa Lovel's edu- 
 cation was finished, and she came home alone from a 
 quiet little suburban village just outside Paris, and 
 having arrived to-night at the Great Northern Station, 
 King's Cross, had still a long journey before her.
 
 4 THE L0VELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Mr. Lovel lived near a small town called Hol- 
 borough, in the depths of Yorkshire ; a dreary little 
 town enough, but boasting several estates of consider- 
 able importance in its neighbourhood. In days gone 
 by, the Lovels had been people of high standing in 
 this northern region, and Clarissa had yet to learn 
 how far that standing was diminished. 
 
 She had been seated about five minutes in a com- 
 fortable corner of a first-class carriage, with a thick 
 shawl over her knees, and all her little girlish trifles 
 of books and travelling-bags gathered about her, and 
 she had begun to flatter herself with the pleasing 
 fancy that she was to have the compartment to her- 
 self for the first stage of the journey, perhaps for the 
 whole of the journey, when a porter flung open the 
 door with a bustling air, and a gentleman came in, 
 with more travelling - rugs, canes, and umbrellas, 
 Russia-leather bags, and despatch-boxes, than Cla- 
 rissa had ever before beheld a traveller encumbered 
 with. He came into the carriage very quietly, how- 
 ever, in spite of this impedimenta, arranged his be- 
 longings in a methodical manner, and without the 
 slightest inconvenience to Miss Lovel, and then 
 seated himself next the door, upon the farther side 
 of the carriage.
 
 COMING HOME. 5 
 
 Clarissa looked at hiru rather anxiously, wonder- 
 ing whether they two were to be solitary companions 
 throughout the whole of that long night journey. 
 She had no prudish horror of such a position, only a 
 natural girlish shyness in the presence of a stranger. 
 
 The traveller was a man of about thirty, tall, 
 broad - shouldered, with long arms, and powerful- 
 looking hands, ungloved, and bronzed a little by sun 
 and wind. There was the same healthy bronze upon 
 his face, Clarissa perceived, when he took off his hat 
 and hung it up above him ; rather a handsome face, 
 with a long straight nose, dark-blue eyes with thick 
 brown eyebrows, a well-cut mouth and chin, and a 
 thick thatch of crisp dark-brown hair waving round 
 a broad, intelligent-looking forehead. The firm, full 
 upper lip was half hidden by a carefully trained mous- 
 tache ; and in his dress and bearing the stranger 
 had altogether a military air; one could fancy him 
 a cavalry soldier. That bare muscular hand seemed 
 made to grasp the massive hilt of a sabre. 
 
 His expression was grave — grave and a little 
 proud, Clarissa thought ; and, unused as she was to 
 lonely wanderings in this outer world, she felt some- 
 how that this man was a gentleman, and that she 
 need be troubled by no fear that he would make his
 
 6 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 presence in any way unpleasant to her, let their jour- 
 ney together last as long as it would. 
 
 She sank back into her corner with a feeling of 
 relief. It would have been more agreeable for her to 
 have had the carriage to herself; but if she must 
 needs have a companion, there was nothing obnoxious 
 in this one. 
 
 For about an hour they sped on in silence. This 
 evening train was not exactly an express, but it was 
 a tolerably quick train, and the stoppages were not 
 frequent. The dull gray twilight melted into a fair 
 tranquil night. The moon rose early ; and the quiet 
 English landscape seemed very fair to Clarissa Lovel 
 in that serene light. She watched the shadowy fields 
 flitting past ; here and there a still pool, or a glimpse 
 of running water; beyond, the sombre darkness of 
 wooded hills; and above that dark background a 
 calm starry sky. Who shall say what dim poetic 
 thoughts were in her mind that night, as she looked 
 at these things ? Life was so new to her, the future 
 such an unknown country — a paradise perhaps, or a 
 drear gloomy waste, across which she must travel 
 with bare bleeding feet. How should she know? 
 She only knew that she was going home to a father 
 who had never loved her, who had deferred the day
 
 COMING HOME. 7 
 
 of her coining as long as it was possible for him de- 
 cently to do so. 
 
 The traveller in the opposite corner of the carriage 
 glanced at Miss Lovel now and then as she looked 
 out of the window. He could just contrive to see her 
 profile, dimly lighted by the flickering oil lamp ; a 
 very perfect profile, he thought; a forehead that was 
 neither too high nor too low, a small aquiline nose, a 
 short upper lip, and the prettiest mouth and chin in 
 the world. It was just a shade too pensive now, the 
 poor little mouth, he thought pityingly; and he 
 wondered what it was like when it smiled. And then 
 he began to arrange his lines for winning the smile 
 he wanted so much to see from those thoughtful lips. 
 It was, of course, for the gratification of the idlest, 
 most vagabond curiosity that he was eager to settle 
 this question : but then, on such a long dreary jour- 
 ney, a man may be forgiven for a good deal of idle 
 curiosity. 
 
 He wondered who his companion was, and how 
 she came to be travelling alone, so young, so pretty, 
 so much in need of an escort. There was nothing in 
 her costume to hint at poverty, nor does poverty 
 usually travel in first-class carriages. She might 
 have her maid lurking somewhere in the second-clas^.
 
 8 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 he said to himself. In any case, she was a lady. He 
 had no shadow of doubt about that. 
 
 She was tall, above the ordinary height of women. 
 There was a grace in the long flowing lines of her 
 figure more striking than the beauty of her face. 
 The long slim throat, the sloping shoulder, not to be 
 disguised even by the clumsy folds of a thick shawl 
 — these the traveller noted, in a lazy contemplative 
 mood, as he lolled in his corner, meditating an easy 
 opening for a conversation with his fair fellow-voy- 
 ager. 
 
 He let some little time slip by in this way, being 
 a man to whom haste was almost unknown. This 
 idle artistic consideration of Miss Lovel's beauty was 
 a quiet kind of enjoyment for him. She, for her part, 
 seemed absorbed in watching the landscape — a very 
 commonplace English landscape in the gentleman's 
 eyes — and was in no way disturbed by his placid ad- 
 miration. 
 
 He had a heap of newspapers and magazines 
 thrown pell-mell into the empty seat next him ; and 
 arousing himself with a faint show of effort presentbv, 
 he began to turn these over with a careless hand. 
 
 The noise of his movements startled Clarissa ; she 
 looked across at him, and their eyes met. This was
 
 COilDsG HOME. 9 
 
 just what he wanted. He had been curious to see 
 her eyes. They were hazel, and very beautiful, com- 
 pleting the charm of her face. 
 
 1 May I offer you some of these things ?' he said. 
 ' I have a reading lamp in one of my bags, which I 
 will light for you in a moment. I won't pledge my- 
 self for your finding the magazines very amusing, but 
 anything is better than the blankness of a long dreary 
 journey.' 
 
 ' Thank you, you are very kind ; but I don't care 
 about reading to-night ; I could not give you so much 
 trouble.' 
 
 'Pray don't consider that. It is not a question 
 of a moment's trouble. I'll light the lamp, and then 
 } T ou can do as you like about the magazines.' 
 
 He stood up, unlocked one of his travelling-bags, 
 the interior of which glittered like a miniature arsenal, 
 and took out a lamp, which he lighted in a rapid 
 dextrous manner, though without the faintest appear- 
 ance of haste, and fixed with a brass apparatus of 
 screws' and bolts to the arm of Clarissa's seat. Then 
 he brought her a pile of magazines, which she re- 
 ceived in her lap, not a little embarrassed by this un- 
 expected attention. He had called her suddenly from 
 strange vague dreams of the future, and it was not
 
 10 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 easy to come altogether back to the trivial common- 
 place present. 
 
 She thanked him graciously for his politeness, but 
 she had not smiled yet. 
 
 ' Never mind/ the traveller said to himself; ' that 
 will come in good time.' 
 
 He had the easiest way of taking all things in life, 
 this gentleman ; and having established Clarissa with 
 her lamp and books, sank lazily back into his corner, 
 and gave himself up to a continued contemplation of 
 the fair young face, almost as calmly as if it had been 
 some masterpiece of the painter's art in a picture- 
 gallery. 
 
 The magazines were amusing to Miss Lovel. They 
 beguiled her away from those shapeless visions of 
 days to come. She began to read, at first with very 
 little thought of the page before her, but, becoming 
 interested by degrees, read on until her companion 
 grew tired of the silence. 
 
 He looked at his watch — the prettiest little toy in 
 gold and enamel, with elaborate monogram and coat 
 of arms — a watch that looked like a woman's gift. 
 They had been nearly three hours on their journey. 
 
 'I do not mean to let you read any longer,' he 
 said, changing his seat to one opposite Clarissa.
 
 COMING HOME. 11 
 
 1 That lamp is very well for an hour or so, but after 
 that time the effect upon one's eyesight is the reverse 
 of beneficial. I hope your book is not very interesting.' 
 
 ' If you will allow me to finish this story/ Cla.i 
 pleaded, scarcely lifting her eyes from the page. It 
 was not particularly polite, perhaps, but it gave the 
 stranger an admirable opportunity for remarking 
 the dark thick lashes, tinged with the fain: 
 of gold, and the perfect curve of the full wl 
 lids. 
 
 'Upon my sou". the loveliest re I 
 
 ever saw,' he said to himself; and then asked per- 
 sistently, • Is the story a long one "?' 
 
 1 Only about half-a-dozen pages more ; 0, d 
 let me finish it !' 
 
 ' You want to know what becomes of some one, or 
 whom the heroine marries, of course. Well, to that 
 extent I will be a party to the possible injury of your 
 sight.' 
 
 He still sat opposite to her, watching her in the 
 old lazy way, while she read the las 
 magazine-story. When she came to the end. a 
 of which he seemed immediately aware, he rose 
 extinguished the little reading-lamp, with an . 
 friendly tyranny.
 
 12 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' Merciless, you see,' he said, laughing. ' 0, la 
 jeunesse, what a delicious thing it is ! Here have I 
 been tossing and tumbling those unfortunate books 
 about for a couple of hours at a stretch, without being- 
 able to fix my attention upon a single page ; and here 
 are you so profoundly absorbed in some trivial story, 
 that I daresay you have scarcely been conscious of the 
 outer world for the last two hours. 0, youth and 
 freshness, what pleasant things they are while we can 
 keep them !' 
 
 ' We were not allowed to read fiction at Madame 
 Marot's,' Miss Lovel answered simply. ' Anything 
 in the way of an English story is a treat when one 
 has had nothing to read but Eacine and Telemaque 
 for about six years of one's life.' 
 
 ' The Inimical Brothers, and Iphigenia ; Athalie, 
 as performed before Louis Quatorze, by the young 
 ladies of St. Cyr, and so on. Well, I confess there 
 are circumstances under which even Eacine might 
 become a bore ; and Telemaque has long been a syno- 
 nym for dreariness and dejection of mind. You have 
 not seen Eachel ? No, I suppose not. She was a great 
 creature, and conjured the dry bones into living breath- 
 ing flesh. And Madame Marot's establishment, where 
 you were so hardly treated, is a school, I conclude ?'
 
 COMING HOME. 13 
 
 1 Yes, it is a school at Belforet, near Paris. I 
 have been there a long time, and am going home now 
 to keep house for papa.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! And is your journey a long one ? 
 Are we to be travelling companions for some time 
 to come ?' 
 
 ' I am going rather a long way — to Holborough.' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear that, for I am going far- 
 ther myself, to the outer edge of Yorkshire, where I 
 believe I am to do wonderful execution upon the birds. 
 A fellow I know has taken a shooting-box yonder, and 
 writes me most flourishing accounts of the sport. I 
 know Holborough a little, by the way. Does your 
 father live in the town ?' 
 
 ' 0, no ; papa could never endure to live in a small 
 country town. Our house is a couple of miles away 
 — Arden Court ; perhaps you know it ?' 
 
 1 Yes, I have been to Arden Court,' the traveller 
 answered, with rather a puzzled air. ' And your papa 
 lives at Arden. I — I did not know he had any other 
 daughter,' he added in a lower key, to himself rather 
 than to his companion. ' Then I suppose I have the 
 pleasure of speaking to Miss—' 
 
 1 My name is Lovel. My father is Marmaduke 
 Lovel, of Arden Court.'
 
 14 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 The traveller looked at her with a still more 
 puzzled air, as if singularly embarrassed by this simple 
 announcement. He recovered himself quickly, how- 
 ever, with a slight effort. 
 
 ' I am proud and happy to have made your ac- 
 quaintance, Miss Lovel,' he said ; ' your father's 
 family is one of the best and oldest in the North 
 Biding.' 
 
 After this, they talked of many things ; of Cla- 
 rissa's girlish experiences at Belforet ; of the travel- 
 ler's wanderings, which seemed to have extended all 
 over the world. 
 
 He had been a good deal in India, in the Artillery, 
 and was likely to return thither before long. 
 
 ' I had rather an alarming touch of sunstroke a 
 year ago,' he said, ' and was altogether such a shat- 
 tered broken-up creature when I came home on sick 
 leave, that my mother tried her hardest to induce me 
 to sell out ; but though I would do almost anything 
 in the world to please her, I could not bring myself 
 to do that ; a man without a profession is such a lost 
 wretch. It is rather hard upon her, poor soul ; for 
 my elder brother died not very long ago, and she has 
 only my vagabond self left. "He was the only son 
 of his mother, and she was a widow." '
 
 COMING HOME. 15 
 
 'I have no mother,' Clarissa said mournfully; 
 ' mine died when I was quite a little thing. I always 
 envy people who can speak of a mother.' 
 
 ' But, on the other hand, I am fatherless, you 
 see,' the gentleman said, smiling. But Clarissa's 
 face did not reflect his smile. 
 
 ' Ah, that is a different thing,' she said softly. 
 
 They went on talking for a long while, talking 
 ahout the widest range of subjects ; and their flight 
 across the moonlit country, which grew darker by and 
 by, as that tender light waned, seemed swifter than 
 Clarissa could have imagined possible, had the train 
 been the most desperate thing in the way of an ex- 
 press. She had no vulgar commonplace shyness, 
 mere school-girl as she was, and she had, above all, a 
 most delightful unconsciousness of her own beauty ; 
 so she was quickly at home with the stranger, listen- 
 ing to him, and talking to him with a perfect ease, 
 which seemed to him a natural attribute of high 
 breeding. 
 
 'A Lovel,' he said to himself once, in a brief 
 interval of silence ; ' and so she comes of that unlucky 
 race. It is scarcely strange that she should be beau- 
 tiful and gifted. I wonder what my mother would 
 say if she knew that my northern journey had brought
 
 16 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 me for half-a-dozen hours tete-a-tete with a Lovel ? 
 There would he actual terror for her in the notion of 
 such an accident. What a nohle look this girl has ! — 
 an air that only comes after generations of blue blood 
 untainted by vulgar admixture. The last of such a 
 race is a kind of crystallisation, dangerously, fatally 
 brilliant, the concentration of all the forces that have 
 gone before.' 
 
 At one of their halting-places, Miss Lovel's com- 
 panion insisted upon bringing her a cup of coffee and 
 a sponge-cake, and waited upon her with a most bro- 
 therly attention. At Normanton they changed to a 
 branch line, and had to wait an hour and a half in that 
 coldest dreariest period of the night that comes before 
 daybreak. Here the stranger established Clarissa 
 in a shabby little waiting-room, where he made up 
 the fire with his own hands, and poked it into a blaze 
 with his walking-stick ; having done which, he went 
 out into the bleak night and paced the platform briskly 
 for nearly an hour, smoking a couple of those cigars 
 which would have beguiled his night-journey, had he 
 been alone. 
 
 He had some thoughts of a third cigar, but put it 
 back into his case, and returned to the waiting-room. 
 
 1 I'll go and have a little more talk with the pret-
 
 COMING HOME. 17 
 
 tiest woman I ever met in my life,' lie said to himself. 
 ' It is not very likely that we two shall ever see each 
 other, again. Let me carry away the memory of her 
 face, at any rate. And she is a Lovel ! 'Will she 
 be as unfortunate as the rest of her race, I wonder ? 
 God forbid !' 
 
 Clarissa was sitting by the fire in the dingy little 
 waiting-room, with one elbow resting on the arm of 
 her chair, her chin leaning on her hand, and her eyes 
 fixed thoughtfully upon a dull red chasm in the coals. 
 She had. taken off her gray felt hat, and she looked 
 older without it, the traveller thought, in spite of her 
 wealth of waving dark-brown hair, gathered into a 
 great coil of plaits at the back of the graceful head. 
 Perhaps it was that thoughtful expression which made 
 her look older than she had seemed to him in the 
 railway-carriage, the gentleman argued with himself; 
 a very grave anxious expression for a girl's face. She 
 had indeed altogether the aspect of a woman, rather 
 than of a girl who had just escaped from boarding- 
 school, and to whom the cares of life must needs be 
 unknown. 
 
 She was thinking so deeply, that she did not hear 
 the opening of the door, or her fellow-traveller's light 
 footstep as he crossed the room. He was standing 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 on the opposite side of the fireplace, looking down at 
 her, before she was aware of his presence. Then she 
 raised her head with a start ; and he saw her blush 
 for the first time,, ' You must have been absorbed 
 in some profound meditation, Miss Lovel,' he said 
 lightly. 
 
 ' I was thinking of the future.' 
 
 ' Meaning your own future. Why, at your age 
 the future ought to be a most radiant vision.' 
 
 ' Indeed it is not that. It is all clouds and dark- 
 ness. I do not see that one must needs be happy 
 because one is young. There has been very little 
 happiness in my life yet awhile, only the dreary mono- 
 tonous routine of boarding-school.' 
 
 ' But all that is over now, and life is just begin- 
 ning for you. I wish I were eighteen instead of eight- 
 and-twenty.' 
 
 1 Would you live your life over again ?' 
 
 The traveller laughed. 
 
 ' That's putting a home question,' he said. 'Well, 
 perhaps not exactly the same life, though it has not 
 been a bad one. But I should like the feeling of per- 
 fect youth, the sense of having one's full inheritance 
 of life lying at one's banker's, as it were, and being 
 able to draw upon the account a little recklessly, in-
 
 COMING HOME. 19 
 
 different as to the waste of a year or two. You see I 
 have come to a period of existence in which a man 
 has to calculate his resources. If I do not find hap- 
 piness within the next five years, I am never likely 
 to find it at all. At three -and-thirty a man has done 
 with a heart, in a moral and poetic sense, and be- 
 gins to entertain vague alarms on the subject of fatty 
 degeneration.' 
 
 Clarissa smiled faintly, as if the stranger's idle 
 talk scarcely beguiled her from her own thoughts. 
 
 'You said you had been at Arden,' she began 
 rather abruptly ; ' then you must know papa.' 
 
 'No, I have not the honour to know Mr. Lovel.' 
 with the same embarrassed air which he had exhi- 
 bited before in speaking of Arden Court. ' But I am 
 acquainted — or I was acquainted, rather, for he and 
 I have not met for some time — with one member 
 of your family, a Mr. Austin Lovel.' 
 
 'My brother,' Clarissa said quickly, and with a 
 sudden shadow upon her face. 
 
 ' Your brother ; yes, I supposed as much.' 
 
 ' Poor Austin ! It is very sad. Papa and he are 
 ill friends. There was some desperate quarrel be- 
 tween them a few years ago : I do not even know what 
 about ; and Austin was turned out of doors, never to
 
 20 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 come back any more. Papa told me nothing about it, 
 though it was the common talk at Holborough. It 
 was only from a letter of my aunt's that I learnt what 
 had happened ; and I am never to speak of Austin 
 when I go home, my aunt told me.' 
 
 ' Very hard lines,' said the stranger, with a sym- 
 pathetic air. ' He was wild, I suppose, in the usual 
 way. Your brother was in a line regiment when I 
 knew him ; but I think I heard afterwards that he 
 had sold out, and had dropped away from his old set; 
 had emigrated, I believe, or something of that kind ; 
 exactly the thing I should do, if I found myself in 
 difficulties; turn backwoodsman, and wed some savage 
 woman, who should rear my dusky race, and whose 
 kindred could put me in the way to make my fortune 
 by cattle-dealing; having done which, I should, of 
 course, discover that fifty years of Europe are worth 
 more than a cycle of Cathay, and should turn my 
 steps homeward with a convenient obliviousness upon 
 the subject of the savage woman.' 
 
 He spoke lightly, trying to win Clarissa from her 
 sad thoughts, and with the common masculine idea, 
 that a little superficial liveliness of this kind can 
 lighten the load of a great sorrow. 
 
 ' Come, Miss Lovel, I would give the world to see
 
 COMING HOME. 21 
 
 you smile. Do you know that I have been watching 
 for a smile ever since I first saw your face, and have 
 not surprised one yet? Be sure your brother is taking 
 life pleasantly enough in some quarter of the globe. 
 We worthless young fellows always contrive to fall 
 upon our feet.' 
 
 ' If I could believe that he was happy, if I could 
 think that he was leading an honourable life anywhere, 
 I should not feel our separation so much,' the girl 
 said mournfully ; ' but to be quite ignorant of his fate, 
 and not to be allowed to mention his name, that is 
 hard to bear. I cannot tell you how fond I was of him 
 when we were children. He was seven years older 
 than I, and so clever. He wanted to be a painter, 
 but papa would not hear of that. Yet I think he 
 might have been happier if he had been allowed to 
 have his own way. He had a real genius for art.' 
 
 'And you too are fond of art, I suppose?' ha- 
 zarded the traveller, more interested in the young 
 lady herself than in this reprobate brother of hers. 
 
 ' Yes, I am very fond of it. It is the only thing # 
 I really care for. Of course, I like music to a certain 
 extent ; but I love painting with my whole heart.' 
 
 1 Happy art, to be loved by so fair a votary ! And 
 you dabble with brushes and colours, of course ?'
 
 22 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' A little.' 
 
 1 A true young lady's answer. If you were a Kaffa- 
 elle in glace silk and crinoline, you would tell me no 
 more than that. I can only hope that some happy ac- 
 cident will one day give me an opportunity of judging 
 for myself. And now, I think, you had better put on 
 your hat. Our train will be in almost immediately.' 
 
 She obeyed him ; and they went out together to 
 the windy platform, where the train rumbled in pre- 
 sently. They took their places in a carriage, the 
 gentleman bundling in his rugs and travelling-bags 
 and despatch -boxes with very little ceremony; but 
 this time they were not alone. A plethoric gentle- 
 man, of the commercial persuasion, was sleeping 
 laboriously in one corner. 
 
 The journey to Holborough lasted a little less 
 than an hour. Miss Lovel and her companion did not 
 talk much during that time. She was tired and 
 thoughtful, and he respected her silence. As she 
 drew nearer home, the happiness she had felt in her 
 return seemed to melt away somehow, leaving vague 
 anxieties and morbid forebodings in its stead. To go 
 home to a father who would only be bored by her 
 coming. It was not a lively prospect for a girl of 
 eighteen.
 
 COMING H03IE. 23 
 
 The dull cold gray dawn was on the housetops of 
 Holborough, as the train stopped at the little station. 
 The traveller alighted, and assisted Clarissa's descent 
 to the platform. 
 
 1 Can I see about your luggage, Miss Lovel ?' he 
 asked; but looking up at that moment, the girl caught 
 sight of a burly gentleman in a white neckcloth, who 
 was staring in every direction but the right one. 
 
 1 Thank you very much, no ; I need not trouble 
 you. My uncle Oliver is here to meet me — that stout 
 gentleman over there.' 
 
 ' Then I can only say good-bye. That tiresome 
 engine is snorting with a fiendish impatience to bear 
 me away. Good-bye, Miss Lovel, and a thousand 
 thanks for the companionship that has made this 
 journey so pleasant to me.' 
 
 He lifted his hat and went back to the carriage, 
 as the stout gentleman approached Clarissa. He would 
 fain have shaken hands with her, but refrained from 
 that unjustifiable familiarity. And so, in the bleak 
 early autumnal dawn, they parted.
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 
 
 1 Who on earth was that man you were talking to, 
 Clary ?' asked the Eeverend Mathew Oliver, when he 
 had seen his niece's luggage carried off to a fly, and 
 was conducting her to that vehicle. ' Is it any one 
 you know ?' 
 
 1 0, no, uncle ; only a gentleman who travelled in 
 the same carriage with me from London. He was 
 very kind.' 
 
 'You seemed unaccountably familiar with him,' 
 said Mr. Oliver with an aggrieved air ; ' you ought to 
 be more reserved, my dear, at your age. A young 
 lady travelling alone cannot be too careful. Indeed, 
 it was very wrong of your father to allow you to make 
 this long journey alone. Your aunt has been quite 
 distressed about it.' 
 
 Clarissa sighed faintly ; but was not deeply con-
 
 BEGINNING THE WOULD. 25 
 
 cerned by the idea of her aunt's distress. Distress of 
 mind, on account of some outrage of propriety on the 
 part of her relatives, was indeed almost the normal 
 condition of that lady. 
 
 ' I travelled very comfortably, I assure you, uncle 
 Oliver,' Clarissa replied. * No one was in the least 
 rude or unpleasant. And I am so glad to come home 
 — lean scarcely tell you how glad — though, as I 
 came nearer and nearer, I began to have all kinds of 
 fanciful anxieties. I hope that all is well — that 
 papa is quite himself.' 
 
 ' 0, yes, my dear; your papa is — himself,' ans- 
 wered the parson, in a tone that implied that he did 
 not say very much for Mr. Lovel in admitting that 
 fact. ' Your papa is well enough in health, or as well 
 as he will ever acknowledge himself to be. Of course, 
 a man who neither hunts nor shoots, and seldom gets 
 out of bed before ten o'clock in the day, can't expect 
 to be remarkably robust. But your father will live 
 to a good old age, child, rely upon it, in spite of 
 everything.' 
 
 ' Am I going straight home, uncle ?' 
 
 'Well, yes. Your aunt wished you to breakfast 
 at the Rectory ; but there are your trunks, you see, 
 and altogether I think it's better for you to go home
 
 26 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 at once. You can come and see us as often as you 
 like.' 
 
 ' Thank you, uncle. It was very kind of you to 
 meet me at the station. Yes, I think it will be best 
 for me to go straight home. I'm a little knocked-up 
 with the journey. I haven't slept five minutes since 
 I left Madame Marot's at daybreak yesterday.' 
 
 ' You're looking rather pale ; but you look remark- 
 ably well in spite of that — remarkably well. These 
 six years have changed you from a child into a woman. 
 I hope they gave you a good education yonder ; a solid 
 practical education, that will stand by you.' 
 
 1 1 think so, uncle. We were almost always at 
 our studies. It was very hard work.' 
 
 ' So much the better. Life is meant to be hard 
 work. You may have occasion to make use of your 
 education some day, Clary.' 
 
 'Yes,' the girl answered with a sigh; 'I know 
 that we are poor.' 
 
 ' I suppose so ; but perhaps you hardly know how 
 poor.' 
 
 ' Whenever the time comes, I shall be quite ready 
 to work for papa,' said Clarissa ; yet she could not 
 help wondering how the master of Arden Court could 
 ever bring himself to send out his daughter as a go-
 
 BE GINNING THE WORLD. 27 
 
 verness ; and then she had a vague childish recollec- 
 tion that not tens of pounds, hut hundreds, and even 
 thousands, had heen wanted to stop the gaps in her 
 father's exchequer. 
 
 They drove through Holborough High -street, 
 where there was the faint stir and bustle of early 
 morning, windows opening, a housemaid kneeling on 
 a doorstep here and there, an occasional tradesman 
 taking down his shutters. They drove past the fringe 
 of prim little villas on the outskirts of the town, and 
 away along a country road towards Arden ; and once 
 more Clarissa saw the things that she had dreamed of 
 so often in her narrow white bed in the bleak dormi- 
 tory at Belforet. Every hedge-row and clump of 
 trees from which the withered leaves were drifting in 
 the autumn wind, every white-walled cottage with 
 moss-grown thatch and rustic garden, woke a faint 
 rapture in her breast. It was home. She remem- 
 bered her old friends the cottagers, and wondered 
 whether goody Mason were still alive, and whether 
 Widow Green's fair-haired children would remember 
 her. She had taught them at the Sunday-school ; 
 but they too must have grown from childhood to wo- 
 manhood, like herself, and were out at service, most 
 likely, leaving Mrs. Green's cottage lonely.
 
 28 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 She thought of these simple things, poor child, 
 having so little else to think about, on this her coming 
 home. She was not so foolish as to expect any warm 
 welcome from her father. If he had brought himself 
 just to tolerate her coming, she had sufficient reason 
 to be grateful. It was only a drive of two miles from 
 Holborough to Arden. They stopped at a lodge-gate 
 presently; a little gothic lodge, which was gay with 
 scarlet geraniums nnd chrysanthemums, and made 
 splendid by railings of bronzed ironwork. Every- 
 thing had a bright new look which surprised Miss 
 Lovel, who was not accustomed to see such perfect 
 order or such fresh paint about her father's domain. 
 
 1 How nice everything looks !' she said. 
 
 'Yes,' answered her uncle, with a sigh; 'the 
 place is kept well enough nowadays.' 
 
 A woman came out to open the gates — a brisk 
 young person, who was a stranger to Clarissa, not the 
 feeble old lodge-keeper she remembered in her child- 
 hood. The change, slight as it was, gave her a strange 
 chill feeling. 
 
 ' I wonder how many people that I knew are 
 dead?' she thought. 
 
 They drove into the park, and here too, even in 
 
 this autumn season, Clarissa perceived traces of care
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 29 
 
 and order that were strange to her. The carriage-road 
 was newly gravelled, the chaos of underwood among 
 the old trees had disappeared, the broad sweeps of 
 grass were smooth and level as a lawn, and there 
 were men at work in the early morning, planting rare 
 specimens of the fir tribe in a new enclosure, which 
 filled a space that had been bared twenty years before 
 by Mr. Lovel's depredations upon the timber. 
 
 All this bewildered Clarissa ; but she was still 
 more puzzled, when, instead of approaching the 
 Court, the fly turned sharply into a road leading 
 across a thickly-wooded portion of the park, through 
 which there was a public right of way leading to the 
 village of Arden. 
 
 ' The man is going wrong, uncle !' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' No, no, my dear ; the man is right enough.' 
 
 ' But indeed, uncle Oliver, he is driving to the 
 village.' 
 
 ' And he has been told to drive to the village.' 
 
 ' Not to the Court ?' 
 
 1 To the Court ! Why, of course not. What 
 should we have to do at the Court at half-past seven 
 in the morning ?' 
 
 1 But I am going straight home to papa, am I 
 not?'
 
 30 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 1 Certainly.' 
 
 And then, after staring at his niece's bewildered 
 countenance for a few moments, Mr. Oliver exclaimed, 
 
 ' Why, surely, Clary, your father told you — ' 
 
 1 Told me what, uncle ?' 
 
 ' That he had sold Arden.' 
 
 ' Sold Arden ! 0, uncle, uncle !' 
 
 She burst into tears. Of all things upon this 
 earth she had loved the grand old mansion where her 
 childhood had been spent. She had so little else to 
 love, poor lonely child, that it was scarcely strange 
 she should attach herself to lifeless things. How 
 fondly she had remembered the old place in all those 
 dreary years of exile, dreaming of it as we dream of 
 some lost friend. And it was gone from her for ever ! 
 Her father had bartered away that most precious 
 birthright. 
 
 ' 0, how could he do it ! how could he do it !' she 
 cried piteously. 
 
 ' Why, my dear Clary, you can't suppose it was 
 a matter of choice with him. " Needs must when" — 
 I daresay you know the vulgar proverb. Necessity 
 has no law. Come, come, my dear, don't cry ; your 
 father won't like to see you with red eyes. It was 
 very wrong of him not to tell you about the sale of
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 31 
 
 Arden — excessively wrong. But that's just like 
 Marmaduke Lovel; always ready to shirk anything 
 unpleasant, even to the writing of a disagreeable 
 letter.' 
 
 1 Poor dear papa ! I don't wonder he found it hard 
 to write about such a thing ; but it would have been 
 better for me to have known. It is such a bitter dis- 
 appointment to come home and find the dear old place 
 gone from us. Has it been sold very long '?' 
 
 ' About two years. A rich manufacturer bought 
 it — something in the cloth way, I believe. He has 
 retired from business, however, and is said to be over- 
 whelmingly rich. He has spent a great deal of money 
 upon the Court already, and means to spend more, I 
 hear." 
 
 ' Has he spoiled it — modernised it, or anything 
 of that kind ?' 
 
 ' No ; I am glad to say that he — or his architect 
 perhaps — has had the good taste to preserve the me- 
 diaeval character of the place. He has restored the 
 stonework, renewing all the delicate external tracery 
 where it was lost or decayed, and has treated the in- 
 terior in the same manner. I have dined with Mr- 
 Granger once or twice since the work was finished, 
 and I must say the place is now one of the finest in
 
 32 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Yorkshire — perhaps the finest, in its peculiar way. 
 I doubt if there is so perfect a specimen of gothic 
 domestic architecture in the county.' 
 
 ' And it is gone from us for ever !' said Clarissa, 
 with a profound sigh. 
 
 ' Well, my dear Clary, it is a blow, certainly ; I 
 don't deny that. But there is a bright side to every- 
 thing ; and really your father could not afford to live 
 in the place. It was going to decay in the most dis- 
 graceful manner. He is better out of it ; upon my 
 word he is.' 
 
 Clarissa could not see this. To lose Arden Court 
 seemed to her unmitigated woe. She would rather 
 have lived the dreariest, loneliest life in one corner 
 of the grand old house, than have occupied a modern 
 palace. It was as if all the pleasant memories of her 
 childhood had been swept away from her with the 
 loss of her early home. This was indeed beginning 
 the world ; and a blank dismal world it appeared to 
 Clarissa Lovel, on this melancholy October morning. 
 
 They stopped presently before a low wooden gate, 
 and looking out of the window of the fly, Miss Lovel 
 saw a cottage which she remembered as a dreary un- 
 inhabited place, always to let ; a cottage with a weedy 
 garden, and a luxuriant growth of monthly roses and
 
 BEGINNING THE WORLD. 33 
 
 honeysuckle covering it from basement to roof; not 
 a bad sort of place for a person of small means and 
 pretensions, but 0, what a descent from the ancient 
 splendour of Arden Court! — that Arden which had 
 belonged to the Lovels ever since the land on which 
 it stood was given to Sir Warren Wyndham Lovel, 
 knight, by his gracious master King Edward IV., in 
 acknowledgment of that warrior's services in the great 
 struggle between Lancaster and York. 
 
 There were old-fashioned casement -windows on 
 the upper story, and queer little dormers in the roof. 
 Below, roomy bows had been added at a much later 
 date than the building of the cottage. The principal 
 doorway was sheltered by a rustic porch, spacious 
 and picturesque, with a bench on each side of the 
 entrance. The garden was tolerably large, and in 
 decent order ; and beyond the garden was a fine old 
 orchard, divided from lawn and flower-beds only by a 
 low hedge, full of bush-roses and sweet-brier. It was 
 a very pretty place in summer, not unpicturesque even 
 at this bleak season ; but Clarissa was thinking of 
 lost Arden, and she looked at Mill Cottage with 
 mournful unadmiring eyes. There had been a mill 
 attached to the place once. The old building was 
 there still, indeed, converted into a primitive kind of 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 stable ; hence its name of Mill Cottage. The stream 
 still ran noisily a little way behind the house, and 
 made the boundary which divided the orchard from 
 the lands of the lord of Arden. Mill Cottage was on 
 the very edge of Arden Court. Clarissa wondered that 
 her father could have pitched his tent on the borders 
 of his lost heritage. 
 
 ' I think I would have gone to the other end of 
 the world, had I been in his place,' she said to her- 
 self. 
 
 An elderly woman-servant came out, in answer to 
 the flyman's summons ; and at her call, a rough- 
 looking young man emerged from the wooden gate 
 opening into a rustic-looking stable-yard, where the 
 lower half of the old mill stood, half-hidden by ivy 
 and other greenery, and where there were dove-cotes 
 and a dog-kennel. 
 
 Mr. Oliver superintended the removal of his niece's 
 trunks, and then stepped back into the fly. 
 
 ' There's not the slightest use in my stopping to 
 see your father, Clary,' he said ; ' he won't show for 
 a couple of hours at least. Good-bye, my dear ; make 
 yourself as comfortable as you can. And come and see 
 your aunt as soon as you've recovered from your long 
 journey, and keep up your spirits, my dear. — Martha,
 
 BEGINNING THE W0ELD. 35 
 
 be sure you give Miss Lovel a good breakfast. — Drive 
 back to the rectory, coachman. — Good-bye, Clarissa;' 
 and feeling that he had shown his niece every kind- 
 ness that the occasion required, Mr. Oliver bowled 
 merrily homewards. He was a gentleman who took 
 life easily — a pastor of the broad church — tolerably 
 generous and good to his poor ; not given to abnor- 
 mal services or daily morning-prayer ; content to do 
 duty at Holborough parish-church twice on a Sunday, 
 and twice more in the week ; hunting a little every 
 season, in a black coat, for the benefit of his health, 
 as he told his parishioners ; and shooting a good 
 deal ; fond of a good horse, a good cellar, a good din- 
 ner, and well-filled conservatories and glass-houses ; 
 altogether a gentleman for whom life was a pleasant 
 journey through a prosperous country. He had, some 
 twenty years before, married Frances Lovel ; a very 
 handsome woman — just a little faded at the time of 
 her marriage — without fortune. There were no chil- 
 dren at Holborough Rectory, and everything about 
 the house and gardens bore that aspect of perfect 
 order only possible to a domain in which there are 
 none of those juvenile destroyers. 
 
 1 Poor girl,' Mr. Oliver muttered to himself, as he 
 jogged comfortably homewards, wondering whether
 
 36 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 his people would have the good sense to cook ' those 
 grouse' for breakfast. ' Poor Clary, it was very hard 
 upon her ; and just like Marmaduke, not to tell 
 her.'
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER, 
 
 While Mr. Oliver went back to the Rectory, cheered 
 by the prospect of possible grouse, Clarissa entered 
 her new home, so utterly strange to her in its insig- 
 nificance. The servant, Martha, who was a stranger 
 to her, but who had a comfortable friendly face, she 
 thought, led her into a room at the back of the cot- 
 tage, with a broad window opening on to a lawn, be- 
 yond which Clarissa saw the blue mill-stream. It 
 was not a bad room at all : countrified-looking and 
 old-fashioned, with a low ceiling and wainscoted walls. 
 Miss Lovel recognised the ponderous old furniture 
 from the breakfast-room at Arden — high-backed ma- 
 hogany chairs of the early Georgian era, with broad 
 cushioned seats covered with faded needlework ; a 
 curious old oval dining-table, capable of accommo- 
 dating about six ; and some slim Chippendale coffee-
 
 38 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 tables and cheffoniers, upon which there were a few 
 chipped treasures of old Battersea and Bow china. 
 The walls were half-lined with her father's books — 
 rare old books in handsome bindings. His easy- 
 chair, a most luxurious one, stood in a sheltered cor- 
 ner of the hearth, with a crimson-silk banner-screen 
 hanging from the mantelpiece beside it, and a tiny 
 table close at hand, on which there were a noble sil- 
 ver-mounted meerschaum, and a curious old china 
 jar for tobacco. The oval table was neatly laid for 
 breakfast, and a handsome brown setter lay basking 
 in the light of the fire. Altogether, the apartment 
 had a very comfortable and home-like look. 
 
 ' The tea's made, miss,' said the servant ; ' and 
 I've a savoury omelette ready to set upon the table. 
 Perhaps you'd like to step upstairs and take oif your 
 things before you have your breakfast ? Your papa 
 begged you wouldn't wait for him. He won't be down 
 for two hours to come.' 
 
 1 He's quite well, I hope ?' 
 
 1 As well as he ever is, miss. He's a bit of an 
 invalid at the best of times.' 
 
 Kemembering what Mr. Oliver had said, Clarissa 
 was not much disturbed by this intelligence. She 
 was stooping to caress the brown setter, who had
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 been sniffing at her dress, and seemed anxious to in- 
 augurate a friendship with her. 
 
 ' This is a favourite of papa's, I suppose ?' she 
 said. 
 
 1 Lord, yes, miss. Our master do make a tre- 
 menjous fuss about Ponto. I think he's fonder of 
 that dumb beast than any human creature. Eliza 
 shall show you your room, miss, while I bring in the 
 teapot and suchlike. There's only me and Eliza, who 
 is but a bit of a girl ; and John Thomas, the groom, 
 that brought your boxes in just now. It's a change 
 for your pa from the Court, and all the servants he 
 had there ; but he do bear it like a true Christian, if 
 ever there was one.' 
 
 Clarissa Lovel might have wondered a little to 
 hear this — Christianity not being the dominant note 
 in her father's character; but it was only like her 
 father to refrain from complaint in the hearing of 
 such a person as honest Martha. A rosy-faced girl 
 of about fifteen conducted Miss Lovel to a pleasant 
 bedroom, with three small windows; one curiously 
 placed in an angle of the room, and from which — 
 above a sweep of golden-tinted woodland — Clarissa 
 could see the gothic chimneys of Arden Court. She 
 stood at this window for nearly ten minutes, gazing
 
 40 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 out across those autumnal woods, and wondering how 
 her father had nerved himself for the sacrifice. 
 
 She turned away from the little casement at last 
 with a heavy sigh, and began to take off her things. 
 She bathed her face and head in cold water, brushed 
 out her long dark hair, and changed her thick merino 
 travelling-dress for a fresher costume. While she 
 was doing these things, her thoughts went back to 
 her companion of last night's journey ; and, with a 
 sudden flush of shame, she remembered his embar- 
 rassed look when she had spoken of her father as the 
 owner of Arden Court. He had been to Arden, he 
 had told her, yet had not seen her father. She had 
 not been particularly surprised by this, supposing that 
 he had gone to the Court as an ordinary sight-seer. 
 Her father had never opened the place to the public, 
 but he had seldom refused any tourist's request to 
 explore it. 
 
 But now she understood that curious puzzled look 
 of the stranger's, and felt bitterly ashamed of her 
 error. Had he thought her some barefaced impostor, 
 she wondered ? She was disturbed in these reflec- 
 tions by the trim rosy-cheeked housemaid, who came 
 to tell her that breakfast had been on the table nearly 
 a quarter of an hour. But in the comfortable parlour
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 downstairs, all the time she was trying to do some 
 poor justice to Martha's omelette, her thoughts dwelt 
 persistently upon the unknown of the railway-carriage, 
 and upon the unlucky mistake which she had made as 
 to her father's position. 
 
 1 He could never guess the truth,' she said to her- 
 self. ' He could never imagine that I was going home, 
 and yet did not know that my birthplace had been 
 sold/ 
 
 He was so complete a stranger to her — she did 
 not even know his name — so it could surely matter 
 very little whether he thought well or ill of her. And 
 yet she could not refrain from torturing herself with 
 all manner of annoying suppositions as to what he 
 might think. Miss Lovel's character was by no means 
 faultless, and pride was one of the strongest ingredi- 
 ents in it. A generous and somewhat lofty nature, 
 perhaps, but unschooled and unchastened as yet. 
 
 After a very feeble attempt at breakfast, Clarissa 
 went out into the garden, closely attended to Ponto, 
 who seemed to have taken a wonderful fancy to her. 
 She was very glad to be loved by something on her 
 return home, even a dog. She went out through the 
 broad window, and explored garden and orchard, and 
 wandered up and down by the grassy bank of the
 
 42 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 stream. She was fain to own that the place was 
 pretty; and she fancied how well she might have 
 loved it, if she had been born here, and had never 
 been familiar with the broad terraces and verdant 
 slopes of Arden Court. She walked in the garden till 
 the village-church clock struck ten, and then went 
 hastily in, half afraid lest her father should have come 
 down to the parlour in her absence, and should be 
 offended at not finding her ready to receive him. 
 
 She need not have feared this. Mr. Lovel was 
 rarely offended by anything that did not cause him 
 physical discomfort. 
 
 ' How do you do, my dear ?' he said, as she came 
 into the room, in very much the same tone he might 
 have employed had they seen each other every day for 
 the last twelve months. ' Be sure you never do that 
 again, if you have the faintest regard for me.' 
 
 ' Do what, papa ?' 
 
 ' Leave that window open when you go out. I 
 found the room a perfect ice-house just now. It was 
 very neglectful of Martha to allow it. You'd better 
 use the door at the end of the passage in future, 
 when you go into the garden. It's only a little more 
 trouble, and I can't stand open windows at this time 
 of year.'
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 1 1 will be sure to do so, papa,' Clarissa answered 
 meekly. 
 
 She went up to her father and kissed him, the 
 warmth and spontaneity of their greeting a little di- 
 minished by this reproof about the window ; but Cla- 
 rissa had not expected a very aifectionate reception, 
 and was hardly disappointed. She had only a blank 
 hopeless kind of feeling ; a settled conviction that 
 there was no love for her here, and that there had 
 never been any. 
 
 e My dear father,' she began tenderly, 'my uncle 
 told me about the sale of Arden. I was so shocked 
 by the news — so sorry — for your sake.' 
 
 ' And for your own sake too, I suppose,' her father 
 answered bitterly. ' The less this subject is spoken 
 of between us in future, the better we shall get on 
 together, Clarissa.' 
 
 ' I will keep silence, papa.' 
 
 ■ Be sure you do so,' Mr. Lovel said sternly; and 
 then, with a sudden passion and inconsistency that 
 startled his daughter, he went on : ' Yes, I have sold 
 Arden — every acre. Not a rood of the land that has 
 belonged to my race from generation to generation 
 since Edward IV. was king, is left to me. And I 
 have planted myself here — here at the very gates of
 
 44 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 my lost home — so that I may drain the bitter cup of 
 humiliation to the dregs. The fools who call them- 
 selves my friends think, that because I can endure 
 to live here, I am indifferent to all I have lost ; that 
 I am an eccentric bookworm — an easy-going phi- 
 losophical recluse, content to dawdle away the rem- 
 nant of my days amongst old books. It pleases me 
 to let them think so. Why, there is never a day that 
 yonder trader's carriage, passing my windows, does 
 not seem to drive over my body ; not a sound of a 
 woodman's axe or a carpenter's hammer in the place 
 that was mine, that does not go straight home to my 
 heart!' 
 
 ' 0, papa, papa !' 
 
 'Hush, girl! I can accept pity from no one — 
 from you least of all.' 
 
 ' Not from me, papa — your own child ?' 
 
 ' Not from you ; because your mother's reckless 
 extravagance was the beginning of my ruin. I might 
 have been a different man but for her. My marriage 
 was fatal, and in the end, as you see, has wrecked 
 me.' 
 
 ' But even if my mother was to blame, papa — as 
 she may have been — I cannot pretend to deny the 
 truth of what you say, being so completely ignorant
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 of our past history — you cannot be so cruel as to hold 
 me guilty ?' 
 
 'You are too like her, Clarissa,' Mr. Lovel an- 
 swered, in a strange tone. ' But I do not want to 
 speak of these things. It is your fault ; you had no 
 right to talk of Arden. That subject always raises 
 a devil in me.' 
 
 He paced the room backwards and forwards for a 
 few minutes in an agitated way, as if trying to stifle 
 some passion raging inwardly. 
 
 He was a man of about fifty, tall and slim, with 
 a distinguished air, and a face that must once have 
 been very handsome, but perhaps, at its best, a little 
 effeminate. The face was careworn now, and the 
 delicate features had a pinched and drawn look, the 
 thin lips a half-cynical, half-peevish expression. It 
 was not a pleasant countenance, in spite of its look 
 of high birth ; nor was there any likeness between 
 Marmaduke Lovel and his daughter. His eyes were 
 light blue, large and bright, but with a cold look in 
 them — a coldness which, on very slight provocation, 
 intensified into cruelty ; his hair pale auburn, crisp 
 and curling closely round a high but somewhat narrow 
 forehead. 
 
 He came back to the breakfast-table presently,
 
 46 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 and seated himself in his easy-chair. He sipped a 
 cup of coffee, and trifled listlessly with a morsel of 
 dried salmon. 
 
 1 1 have no appetite this morning,' he said at last, 
 pushing his plate away with an impatient gesture ; 
 ' nor is that kind of talk calculated to improve the 
 flavour of a man's breakfast. How tall you have 
 grown, Clarissa, a perfect woman ; remarkably hand- 
 some too ! Of course you know that, and there is no 
 fear of your being made vain by anything I may say 
 to you. All young women learn their value soon 
 enough. You ought to make a good match, a bril- 
 liant match — if there were any chance for a girl in 
 such a hole as this. Marriage is your only hope, 
 remember, Clarissa. Your future lies between that 
 and the drudgery of a governess's life. You have 
 received an expensive education — an education that 
 will serve you in either case ; and that is all the 
 fortune I can give you.' 
 
 ' I hope I may marry well, papa, for your sake ; 
 but—' 
 
 ' Never mind me. You have only yourself to think 
 about.' 
 
 ' But I never could marry any one I did not es- 
 teem, if the match were ever such a brilliant one.'
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 ' Of course not. All schoolgirls talk like that ; 
 and in due course discover how very little esteem has 
 to do with matrimony. If you mean that you would 
 like to marry some penniless wretch of a curate, or 
 some insolvent ensign, for love, I can only say that 
 the day of your marriage will witness our final part- 
 ing. I should not make any outrageous fuss or use- 
 less opposition, rely upon it. I should only wish you 
 good-bye.' 
 
 Clarissa smiled faintly at this speech. She ex- 
 pected so little from her father, that his hardest words 
 did not wound her very deeply, nor did they extin- 
 guish that latent hope, * He will love me some day.' 
 
 1 1 trust I may never be so imprudent as to lose 
 you for ever, like that, papa. I must shut my heart 
 resolutely against curates.' 
 
 ' If bad reading is an abomination to you, you 
 have only to open your ears. I have some confidence 
 in you, Clary,' Mr. Lovel went on, with a smile that 
 was almost affectionate. 'You look like a sensible 
 girl ; a little impulsive, I daresay ; but knowledge of 
 the world — which is an uncommonly hard world for 
 you and me — will tone that down in good time. You 
 are accomplished, I hope. Madame Marot wrote me 
 a most flourishing account of your attainments ; but
 
 48 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 one never knows how much to believe of a schoolmis- 
 tress's analysis.' 
 
 ' I worked very hard, papa ; all the harder because 
 I was so anxious to come home ; and I fancied I 
 might shorten my exile a little by being very indus- 
 trious.' 
 
 ' Humph ! You give yourself a good character. 
 You sing and play, I suppose ?' 
 
 ' Yes, papa. But I am fonder of art than of 
 music' 
 
 ' Ah, art is very well as a profession ; but amateur 
 art — French plum-box art — is worse than worthless. 
 However, I am glad you can amuse yourself some- 
 how; and I daresay, if you have to turn governess 
 by and by, that sort of thing will be useful. You 
 have the usual smattering of languages, of course ?' 
 
 ' Yes, papa. We read German and Italian on 
 alternate days at Madame Marot's.' 
 
 ' I promessi Sposi, and so on, no doubt. There 
 is a noble Tasso in the bookcase yonder, and a fine 
 old Petrarch, with which you may keep up your 
 Italian. You might read a little to me of an evening 
 sometimes. I should not mind it much.' 
 
 e And I should like it very much, papa,' Clarissa 
 answered eagerly.
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 She was anxious for anything that could bring her 
 father and herself together — that might lessen the 
 gulf between them, if by ever so little. 
 
 And in this manner Miss Lovel's life began in 
 her new home. No warmth of welcome, no word of 
 fatherly affection, attended this meeting between a 
 father and daughter who had not met for six years. 
 Mr. Lovel went back to his books as calmly as if 
 there had been no ardent impetuous girl of eighteen 
 under his roof, leaving Clarissa to find occupation 
 and amusement as best she might. He was not a 
 profound student ; a literary trifler rather, caring for 
 only a limited number of books, and reading those 
 again and again. Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy , 
 Southey's Doctor, Montaigne, and Swift, he read con- 
 tinually. He was a collector of rare editions of the 
 Classics, and would dawdle over a Greek play, edited 
 by some learned German, for a week at a time, losing 
 himself in the profundity of elaborate foot-notes. He 
 was an ardent admirer of the lighter Eoman poets, 
 and believed the Horatian philosophy the only true 
 creed by which a man should shape his existence. 
 But it must not be supposed that books brought re- 
 pose to the mind and heart of Marmaduke Lovel. 
 He was a disappointed man, a discontented man, a 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 man given to brooding over the failure of his life, in- 
 clined to cherish vengeful feelings against his fellow- 
 men on account of that failure. Books to him were 
 very much what they might have been to some fiery- 
 tempered ambitious soldier of fortune buried alive in 
 a prison, without hope of release, — some slight alle- 
 viation of his anguish, some occasional respite from 
 his dull perpetual pain ; nothing more. 
 
 Clarissa's first day at Mill Cottage was a very fair 
 sample of the rest of her life. She found that she 
 must manage to spend existence almost entirely by 
 herself — that she must expect the smallest amount of 
 companionship from her father. 
 
 ' This is the room in which I generally sit,' her 
 father said to her that first morning after breakfast ; 
 * my books are here, you see, and the aspect suits me. 
 The drawing-room will be almost entirely at your dis- 
 posal. We have occasional callers, of course ; I have 
 not been able to make these impervious country peo- 
 ple comprehend that I don't want society. They 
 sometimes pester me with invitations to dinner, 
 which no doubt they consider an amazing kindness 
 to a man in my position ; invitations which I make 
 a point of declining. It will be different with you, 
 of course ; and if any eligible people — Lady Laura
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 Armstrong or Mrs. Eenthorpe for instance — should 
 like to take you up, I shall not object to your seeing 
 a little society. You will never find a rich husband 
 at Mill Cottage.' 
 
 ' Please do not speak of husbands, papa. I don't 
 want to be married, and I shouldn't care to go into 
 society without you.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, child ; you will have to do what is 
 best for your future welfare. Remember that my 
 death will leave you utterly unprovided for — abso- 
 lutely penniless.' 
 
 'I hope you may live till I am almost an old 
 woman, papa.' 
 
 1 Not much chance of that ; and even if I did, 
 I should not care to have you on my hands all 
 that time. A good marriage is the natural pro- 
 spect of a good-looking young woman, and I shall 
 be much disappointed if you do not marry well, 
 Clarissa.' 
 
 The pale cold blue eyes looked at her with so 
 severe a glance, as Mr. Lovel said this, that the girl 
 felt she must expect little mercy from her father if 
 her career in life did not realise his hopes. 
 
 1 In short,' he continued, ' Hook to you to redeem 
 our fallen fortunes. I don't want the name of Lovel 
 
 UBfiftRI 
 
 mivBBfTY of turns
 
 52 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 to die out in poverty and obscurity. I look to you to 
 prevent that, Clarissa.' 
 
 ' Papa,' said Clarissa, almost trembling as she 
 spoke, * it is not to me you should look for that. 
 What can a girl do to restore a name that has fallen 
 into obscurity ? Even if I were to marry a rich man, 
 as you say, it would only be to take another name, 
 and lose my own identity in that of my husband. It 
 is only a son who can redeem his father's name. 
 There is some one else to whom you must look — ' 
 
 ' What !' cried her father vehemently, ' have you 
 not been forbidden to mention that name in my hear- 
 ing ? Unlucky girl, you seem to have been born on 
 purpose to outrage and pain me.' 
 
 ' Forgive me, papa ; it shall be the last time. 
 But 0, is there no hope that you will ever pardon — ' 
 
 ' Pardon,' echoed Mr. Lovel, with a bitter laugh; 
 ' it is no question of pardon. I have erased that 
 person's image from my mind. So far as I am con- 
 cerned, there is no such man in the world. Pardon ! 
 You must induce me to reinstate him in my memory 
 again, before you ask me to pardon.' 
 
 1 And that can never be, papa ?' 
 
 * Never !' 
 
 The tone of that one word annihilated hope in
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 Clarissa's mind. She had pushed the question to its 
 utmost limit, at all hazards of offending her father. 
 What was it that her brother Austin had done to 
 bring upon himself this bitter sentence of condemna- 
 tion ? She remembered him in his early manhood, 
 handsome, accomplished, brilliant ; the delight and 
 admiration of every one who knew him, except her 
 father. Recalling those days, she remembered that 
 between her father and Austin there had never been 
 any show of affection. The talents and brilliant at- 
 tributes that had won admiration from others seemed 
 to have no charm in the father's eye. Clarissa could 
 remember many a sneering speech of Mr, Lovel's, in 
 which he had made light of his son's cleverness, de- 
 nouncing his varied accomplishments as trivial and 
 effeminate, and asking if any Englishman ever at- 
 tained an honourable distinction by playing the piano, 
 or modelling in clay. 
 
 ' I would rather have my son the dullest plodder 
 that ever toiled at the bar, or droned bald platitudes 
 from a pulpit, than the most brilliant drawing-room 
 idler, whose amateur art and amateur music ever 
 made him the fashion of a single season, to leave 
 him forgotten in the next. I utterly despise an ac- 
 complished man.'
 
 54 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Austin Lovel had let such speeches as this go by 
 him with a languid indifference, that testified at once 
 to his easy temper and his comfortable disregard of 
 his father's opinion. He was fond of his little sister 
 Clary, in rather a careless way, and would suffer her 
 companionship, juvenile as she was at that time, with 
 perfect good-nature, allowing her to spoil his drawing- 
 paper with her untutored efforts, and even to explore 
 the sacred mysteries of his colour-box. In return for 
 this indulgence, the girl loved him with intense devo- 
 tion, and believed in him as the most brilliant of 
 mankind. 
 
 Clarissa Lovel recalled those departed days now 
 with painful tenderness. How kind and gracious 
 Austin had been to her ! How happy they had been 
 together! sometimes wandering for a whole day in 
 the park and woods of Arden, he with his sketching 
 apparatus, she with a volume of Sir Walter Scott, to 
 read aloud to him while he sketched, or to read him 
 to sleep with very often. And then what delight it 
 had been to sit by his side while he lay at full length 
 upon the mossy turf, or half buried in fern — to sit by 
 him supremely happy, reading or drawing, and looking 
 up from her occupation every now and then to glance 
 at the sleeper's handsome face in loving admiration.
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 Those days had been the happiest of her life. 
 When Austin left Arden, he seemed always to carry 
 away the brightness of her existence with him ; for 
 without him her life was very lonely — a singularly 
 joyless life for one so young. Then, in an evil hour, 
 as she thought, there came their final parting. How 
 well she remembered her brother loitering on the 
 broad terrace in front of Arden Court, in the dewy 
 summer morning, waiting to bid her good-bye ! How 
 passionately she had clung to him in that farewell 
 embrace, unable to tear herself away, until her fa- 
 ther's stern voice summoned her to the carriage that 
 was to take her on the first stage of her journey ! 
 
 ' Won't you come to the station with us, Austin?' 
 she pleaded. 
 
 ' Xo, Clary,' her brother answered with a glance 
 at her father. ' He does not want me.' 
 
 And so they had parted ; never to meet any more 
 upon this earth perhaps, Clarissa said to herself, in 
 her dismal reveries to-day. ' That stranger in the 
 railway carriage spoke of his having emigrated. He 
 will live and die far away, perhaps on the other side 
 of the earth, and I shall never see his bright face 
 again. 0, Austin, Austin, is this the end of all our 
 summer days in Arden woods long ago !'
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CLARISSA IS ' TAKEN UP.' 
 
 For some time there was neither change nor stir in 
 Clarissa Lovel's new life. It was not altogether an 
 unpleasant kind of existence, perhaps, and Miss 
 Lovel was inclined to make the hest of it. She was 
 very much her own mistress, free to spend the long 
 hours of her monotonous clays according to her own 
 pleasure. Her father exacted very little from her, 
 and received her dutiful attentions with an air of en- 
 durance which was not particularly encouraging. 
 But Clarissa was not easily disheartened. She 
 wanted to win her father's affection ; and again and 
 again, after every new discouragement, she told her- 
 self that there was no reason why she should not ulti- 
 mately succeed in making herself as dear to him as 
 an only daughter should be. It was only a question 
 of time and patience. There was no reason that he
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 57 
 
 should not love her, no possible ground for his cold- 
 ness. It was his nature to be cold, perhaps ; but 
 those cold natures have often proved capable of a 
 single strong attachment. What happiness it would 
 be to win this victory of love ! 
 
 ' "We stand almost alone in the world,' she said to 
 herself. ' We had need be very dear to each other.' 
 
 So, though the time went by, and she made no 
 perceptible progress towards this happy result, Cla- 
 rissa did not despair. Her father tolerated her, and 
 even this was something; it seemed a great deal 
 when she remembered her childhood at Arden, in 
 which she had never known what it was to be in her 
 father's society for an hour at a time, and when, but 
 for chance meetings in corridors and on staircases, 
 she would very often have lived for weeks under the 
 same roof with him without seeing his face or hear- 
 ing his voice. 
 
 Now it was all different ; she was a woman now, 
 and Mill Cottage was scarcely large enough to accom- 
 modate two separate existences, even had Mr. Lovel 
 been minded to keep himself aloof from his daughter. 
 This being so, he tolerated her, treating her with a 
 kind of cold politeness, which might have been toler- 
 ably natural in some guardian burdened with the
 
 58 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 charge of a ward he did not care for. They rarely 
 met until dinner-time, Clarissa taking her breakfast 
 about three hours before her father left his room. 
 But at seven they dined together, and spent the long 
 winter evenings in each other's company, Clarissa 
 being sometimes permitted to read aloud in German 
 or Italian, while her father lay back in his easy-chair, 
 smoking his meerschaum, and taking the amber 
 mouthpiece from his lips now and then to correct an 
 accent or murmur a criticism on the text. Some- 
 times, too, Mr. Lovel would graciously expound a 
 page or two of a Greek play, or dilate on the subtilty 
 of some learned foot-note, for his daughter's benefit, 
 but rather with the air of one gentleman at his club 
 inviting the sympathy of another gentleman than 
 with the tone of a father instructing his child. 
 
 Sometimes, but very rarely, they had company. 
 Mr. Oliver and his wife would dine with them occa- 
 sionally, or the Vicar of Arden, a grave bachelor of 
 five-and-thirty, would drop in to spend an hour or 
 two of an evening. But besides these they saw scarcely 
 any one. The small professional men of Holborough 
 Mr. Lovel held in supreme contempt, a contempt of 
 which those gentlemen themselves were thoroughly 
 aware ; the county people whom he had been accus-
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 59 
 
 tomecl to receive at Arden Court he shrank from with 
 a secret sense of shame, in these clays of his fallen 
 fortunes. He had therefore made for himself a kind 
 of hermit life at Mill Cottage ; and his acquaintance 
 had come, little by little, to accept this as his estab- 
 lished manner of existence. They still called upon 
 the recluse occasionally, and sent him cards for their 
 state dinners, averse from any neglect of a man who 
 had once occupied a great position among them ; but 
 they were no longer surprised when Mr. Lovel pleaded 
 his feeble health as a reason for declining their hos- 
 pitality. A very dull life for a girl, perhaps; but 
 for Clarissa it was not altogether an unhappy life. 
 She was at an age when a girl can make an existence 
 for herself out of bright young fancies and vague deep 
 thoughts. There was that in her life just now which 
 fades and perishes with the passing of years; a subtle 
 indescribable charm, a sense of things beyond the 
 common things of daily life. If there had been a 
 closer bond of union between her father and herself, 
 if there had not been that dark cloud upon her brother's 
 life, she might have made herself entirely happy ; she 
 might almost have forgotten that Arden was sold, and 
 a vulgar mercantile stranger lord of those green slopes 
 and broad ancient terraces she loved so well.
 
 60 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 As it was, the loneliness of her existence troubled 
 her very little. She had none of that eager longing 
 for ' society' or ' fashion' wherewith young ladies who 
 live in towns are apt to inoculate one another. She 
 had no desire to shine, no consciousness of her own 
 beauty; for the French girls at Madame Marot's had 
 been careful not to tell her that her pale patrician face 
 was beautiful. She wished for nothing but to win her 
 father's love, and to bring about some kind of recon- 
 ciliation between him and Austin. So the autumn 
 deepened into winter, and the winter brightened into 
 early spring, without bringing any change to her life. 
 She had her colour-box and her easel, her books and 
 piano, for her best companions ; and if she did not 
 make any obvious progress towards gaining her fa- 
 ther's affection, she contrived, at any rate, to avoid 
 rendering her presence in any way obnoxious to him. 
 
 Two or three times in the course of the winter 
 Mrs. Oliver gave a little musical party, at which Cla- 
 rissa met the small gentry of Holborough, who pro- 
 nounced her a very lovely girl, and pitied her because 
 of her father's ruined fortunes. To her inexperience 
 these modest assemblies seemed the perfection of 
 gaiety ; and she would fain have accepted the invita- 
 tions that followed them, from the wives of Holbor-
 
 CLAEISSA IS TAKEN UP. 61 
 
 ough bankers and lawyers and medical men to whom 
 she had been introduced. Against this degradation, 
 however, Mr. Lovel resolutely opposed himself. 
 
 'No, Clarissa,' he said sternly; ' you must enter 
 society under such auspices as I should wish, or you 
 must be content to remain at home. I can't have a 
 daughter of mine hawked about in that petty Hol- 
 borough set. Lady Laura will be at Hale Castle by 
 and by, I daresay. If she chooses to take you up, 
 she can do so. Pretty girls are always at par in a 
 country house, and at the Castle you would meet 
 people worth knowing.' 
 
 Clarissa sighed. Those cordial Holborough gentry 
 had been so kind to her, and this exclusiveness of her 
 father's chilled her, somehow. It seemed to add a 
 new bitterness to their poverty — to that poverty, by 
 the way, of which she had scarcely felt the sharp 
 edges yet awhile. Things went very smoothly at Mill 
 Cottage. Her father lived luxuriously, after his quiet 
 fashion. One of the best wine-merchants at the west- 
 end of London supplied his claret; Fortnum and 
 Mason furnished the condiments and foreign rarities 
 which were essential for his breakfast -table. There 
 seemed never any lack of money, or only when Cla- 
 rissa ventured to hint at the scantiness of her school-
 
 62 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 wardrobe, on which occasion Mr. Lovel looked very 
 grave, and put her off with two or three pounds to 
 spend at the Holborough draper's. 
 
 ' I should want so many new clothes if I went to 
 the Castle, papa,' she said rather sadly one clay, when 
 her father was talking of Lady Laura Armstrong ; 
 but Mr. Lovel only shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 s A young woman is always well-dressed in a white 
 muslin gown,' he said carelessly. ' I daresay a few 
 pounds would get you all you want.' 
 
 The Castle was a noble old place at Hale, a village 
 about six miles from Holborough. It had been the 
 family seat of the Earl of Roxham ever since the reign 
 of Edward VI. ; but, on the Roxham race dying out, 
 some fifty years before this, had become the property 
 of a certain Mr. Armstrong, a civilian who had made 
 a great fortune in the East, in an age when great for- 
 tunes were commonly made by East-Indian traders. 
 His only son had been captain in a crack regiment, 
 and had sold out of the army after his father's death, 
 in order to marry Lady Laura Challoner, second 
 daughter of the Earl of Calderwood, a nobleman of 
 ancient lineage and decayed fortunes, and to begin 
 life as a country gentleman under her wise govern- 
 ance. The Armstrongs were said to be a very happy
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 63 
 
 couple ; and if the master of Hale Castle was apt to 
 seem something of a cipher in his own house, the 
 house was an eminently agreeable one, and Lady 
 Laura popular with all classes. Her husband adored 
 her, and had surrendered his judgment to her guid- 
 ance with a most supreme faith in her infallibility. 
 Happily, she exercised her power with that subtle tact 
 which is the finest gift of woman, and his worst 
 enemies could scarcely call Frederick Armstrong a 
 henpecked husband. 
 
 The spring and early summer brought no change 
 to Clarissa's life. She had been at home for the 
 greater part of a year, and in all that time one day 
 had resembled another almost as closely as in the 
 scholastic monotony of existence at Madame Marot's. 
 And yet the girl had shaped no complaint about the 
 dulness of this tranquil routine, even in her inmost 
 unspoken thoughts. She was happy, after a quiet 
 fashion. She had a vague sense that there was a 
 broader, grander kind of life possible to womanhood ; 
 a life as different from her own as the broad river that 
 lost itself in the sea was different from the placid 
 millstream that bounded her father's orchard. But 
 she had no sick fretful yearning for that wider life. 
 To win her father's affection, to see her brother re-
 
 64 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 stored to his abandoned home — these were her girlish 
 dreams and simple unselfish hopes. 
 
 In all the months Clarissa Lovel had spent at Mill 
 Cottage she had never crossed the boundary of that 
 lost domain she loved so well. There was a rustic 
 bridge across the millstream, and a wooden gate open- 
 ing into Arden woods. Clarissa very often stood by 
 this gate, leaning with folded arms upon the topmost 
 bar, and looking into the shadowy labyrinth of beech 
 and pine with sad dreamy eyes, but she never went 
 beyond the barrier. Honest Martha asked her more 
 than once why she never walked in the wood, which 
 was so much pleasanter than the dusty high-road, or 
 even Arden common, an undulating expanse of heathy 
 waste beyond the village, where Clarissa would roam 
 for hours on the fine spring days, with a sketch-book 
 under her arm. The friendly peasant woman could 
 not understand that obstinate avoidance of a beloved 
 scene — that sentiment which made her lost home 
 seem to Clarissa a thing to shrink from, as she might 
 have shrunk from beholding the face of the beloved 
 dead. 
 
 It was bright midsummer weather, a glorious pro- 
 lific season, with the thermometer ranging between 
 seventy and eighty, when Lady Laura Armstrong did
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. Q5 
 
 at last make her appearance at Mill Cottage. The 
 simple old-fashioned garden was all aglow with roses; 
 the house half hidden beneath the luxuriance of foli- 
 age and flowers, a great magnolia on one side climb- 
 ing up to the dormer windows, on the other pale 
 monthly roses, and odorous golden and crimson tinted 
 honeysuckle. Lady Laura was in raptures with the 
 place. She found Clarissa sitting in a natural arbour 
 made by a group of old hawthorns and a wild plum- 
 tree, and placed herself at once upon a footing of per- 
 fect friendliness and familiarity with the girl. Mr. 
 Lovel was out — a rare occurrence. He had gone for 
 a stroll through the village with Ponto. 
 
 ' And why are you not with him ?' asked Lady 
 Laura, who, like most of these clever managing wo- 
 men, had a knack of asking questions. ' You must 
 be a better companion than Ponto.' 
 
 ' Papa does not think so. He likes walking alone. 
 He likes to be quite free to dream about his books, I 
 fancy, and it bores him rather to have to talk.' 
 
 'Not a very livery companion for you, I fear. 
 Why, child, how dismal your life must be !' 
 
 '0, no ; not dismal. It is very quiet, of course ; 
 but I like a quiet life.' 
 
 ' But you go to a good many parties, I suppose, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 in Holborough and the neighbourhood ? I know the 
 Holborough people are fond of giving parties, and are 
 quite famous for croquet.' 
 
 'No, Lady Laura; papa won't let me visit any 
 one at Holborough, except my uncle and aunt, the 
 Olivers.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I know the Olivers very well indeed. Ee- 
 markably pleasant people.' 
 
 ' And I don't even know how to play croquet.' 
 
 ' Why, my poor benighted child, in what a state 
 of barbarism this father of yours is bringing you up ! 
 How are you ever to marry and take your place in the 
 world ? And with your advantages, too ! What can 
 the man be dreaming about ? I shall talk to him very 
 seriously. We are quite old friends, you know, my 
 dear, and I can venture to say what I like to him. 
 You must come to me immediately. I shall have a 
 houseful of people in a week or two, and you shall 
 have a peep at. the gay world. Poor little prison 
 flower ! no wonder you look thoughtful and pale. 
 And now show me your garden, please, Miss Lovel. 
 We can stroll about till your father comes home ; I 
 mean to talk to him at once.' 
 
 Energy was one of the qualities of her own cha- 
 racter for which Laura Armstrong especially valued
 
 CLAKISSA IS TAKEN UP. 67 
 
 herself. She was always doing something or other 
 which she was not actually called upon by her own 
 duty or by the desire of other people to do, and she 
 was always eager to do it ' at once.' She had come 
 to Mill Cottage intending to show some kindness to 
 Clarissa Lovel, whose father and her own father, the 
 Earl of Calderwood, had been firm friends in the 
 days when the master of Arden entertained the county; 
 and Clarissa's manner and appearance having im- 
 pressed her most favourably, she was eager to do her 
 immediate service, to have her at the Castle, and 
 show her to the world, and get her a rich husband if 
 possible. 
 
 In honest truth, this Lady Laura Armstrong was 
 a kindly disposed sympathetic woman, anxious to make 
 the best of the opportunities which Providence had 
 given her with so lavish a hand, and to do her duty 
 towards her less fortunate neighbours. The office of 
 Lady Bountiful, the position of patroness, suited her 
 humour. Her active frivolous nature, which spurned 
 repose and yet never rose above trifles, found an agree- 
 able occupation in the exercise of this kind of benign 
 influence upon other people's lives. "Whether she 
 would have put herself seriously out of the way for 
 the benefit of any of these people to whom she was so
 
 68 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 unfailingly beneficent, was a question which circum- 
 stances had never yet put to the test. Her benevo- 
 lence had so far been of a light airy kind, which did 
 not heavily tax her bodily or mental powers, or even 
 the ample resources of her purse. 
 
 She was a handsome woman, after a fair, florid, 
 rather redundant style of beauty, and was profoundly 
 skilled in all those arts of costume and decoration by 
 which such beauty is improved. A woman of middle 
 height, with a fine figure, a wealth of fair hair, and 
 an aquiline nose of the true patrician type, her ad- 
 mirers said. The mouth was rather large, but re- 
 deemed by a set of flashing teeth and a winning- 
 smile ; the chin inclined to be of that order called 
 'double;' and indeed a tendency to increasing stout- 
 ness was one of the few cares which shadowed Lady 
 Laura's path. She was five-and-thirty, and had only 
 just begun to tell herself that she was no longer a 
 girl. She got on admirably with Clarissa, as she in- 
 formed her husband afterwards when she described 
 the visit. 
 
 The girl was fascinated at once by that frank 
 cordial manner, and was quite ready to accept Lady 
 Laura for her friend, ready to be patronised by her 
 even, with no sense of humiliation, no lurking desire
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 69 
 
 to revolt against the kind of sovereignty with which 
 her new friend took possession of her. 
 
 Mr. Lovel came strolling in by and b}', with his 
 favourite tan setter, looking as cool as if there were 
 no such thing as blazing midsummer sunshine, and 
 found the two ladies sauntering up and down the 
 grassy walk by the millstream, under the shadow of 
 gnarled old pear and quince trees. He was charmed 
 to see his dear Lady Laura. Clarissa had never 
 known him so enthusiastic or so agreeable. It was 
 quite a new manner which he put on — the manner of 
 a man who is still interested in life. Lady Laura 
 began almost at once with her reproaches. How could 
 he be so cruel to this dear child ? How could he be 
 so absurd as to bury her alive in this way ? 
 
 ' She visits no one, I hear,' cried the lady ; ' posi- 
 tively no one.' 
 
 ' Humph ! she has been complaining, has she ¥ 
 said Mr. Lovel, with a sharp glance at his daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 ' Complaining ! no, papa ! I have told Lady 
 Laura that I do not care about gaiety, and that you 
 do not allow me to visit.' 
 
 1 Aut Ccesar aut nullus — the best or nothing. I 
 don't want Clarissa to be gadding about to all the
 
 70 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 tea-drinkings in Holborough ; and if I let her go to 
 one house, I must let her go to all.' 
 
 I But you will let her come to me ?' 
 
 ' That is the best, my dear Lady Laura. Yes, of 
 course she may come to you, whenever you may please 
 to be troubled with her.' 
 
 ' Then I please to be troubled with her immedi- 
 ately. I should like to carry her away with me this 
 afternoon, if it were possible ; but I suppose that 
 can't be — there will be a trunk to be packed, and so 
 on. When will you come to me, Miss Lovel ? Do 
 you know, I am strongly tempted to call you Clarissa?' 
 
 I I should like it so much better,' the girl an- 
 swered, blushing. 
 
 ' What ! may I? Then I'm sure I will. It's such 
 a pretty name, reminding one of that old novel of 
 Kichardson's, which everybody quotes and no one 
 ever seems to have read. When will you come, Cla- 
 rissa ?' 
 
 ' Give her a week,' said her father ; ' she'll want 
 a new white muslin gown, I daresay ; young women 
 always do when they are going visiting.' 
 
 ' Now, pray don't let her trouble herself about 
 anything of that kind ; my maid shall see to all that 
 sort of thing. We will make her look her best, de-
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 71 
 
 pend upon it. I mean this visit to be a great event 
 in her life, Mr. Lovel, if possible.' 
 
 ' Don't let there be any fuss or trouble about her. 
 Every one knows that I am poor, and that she will 
 be penniless when I am gone. Let her wear her 
 white-muslin gown, and give her a corner to sit in. 
 People may take her for one of your children's go- 
 vernesses, if they choose ; but if she is to see society, 
 I am glad for her to see the best.' 
 
 ' People shall not take her for one of my govern- 
 esses; they shall take her for nothing less than 
 Miss Lovel of Arden. Yes, of Arden, my dear sir; 
 don't frown, I entreat you. The glory of an old house 
 like that clings to those who bear the old name, even 
 though lands and house are gone — Miss Lovel, of 
 Arden. By the way, how do you get on with your 
 neighbour, Mr. Granger?' 
 
 ' I do not get on with him at all. He used to 
 call upon me now and then, but I suppose he fancied, 
 or saw somehow or other — though I am sure I was 
 laboriously civil to him — that I did not care much 
 for his visits ; at any rate, he dropped them. But 
 he is still rather obtrusively polite in sending me 
 game and hot-house fruit and flowers at odd times, 
 in return for which favours I can send him nothing
 
 72 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 but a note of thanks — " Mr. Lovel presents his com- 
 pliments to Mr. Granger, and begs to acknowledge, 
 with best thanks, &c." — the usual formula.' 
 
 ' I am so sorry you have not permitted him to 
 know you,' replied Lady Laura. 'We saw a good 
 deal of him last year — such a charming man ! what 
 one may really call a typical man — the sort of person 
 the French describe as solid — carre par le base — a 
 perfect block of granite; and then, so enormously 
 rich!' 
 
 Lady Laura glanced at Clarissa, as if she were 
 inspired with some sudden idea. She was subject to 
 a sudden influx of ideas, and always fancied her ideas 
 inspirations. She looked at Clarissa, and repeated, 
 with a meditative air, ' So enormously rich !' 
 
 ' There is a grown-up daughter, too,' said Mr. 
 Lovel ; ' rather a stiff-looking young person. I sup- 
 pose she is solid too.' 
 
 ' She is not so charming as her father,' replied 
 Lady Laura, with whom that favourite adjective served 
 for everything in the way of praise. To her the Pyra- 
 mids and Niagara, a tropical thunderstorm, a ma- 
 zourka by Chopin, and a Parisian bonnet, were all 
 alike charming. ' I suppose solidity isn't so nice in 
 a girl,' she went on, laughing ; ' but certainly Sophia
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. 73 
 
 Granger is not such a favourite with me as her father 
 is. I suppose she will make a brilliant marriage, 
 however, sooner or later, unattractive as she niay 
 be; for she'll have a superb fortune, — unless, in- 
 deed, her father should take it into his head to marry 
 again.' 
 
 ' Scarcely likely that, I should think, after seven- 
 teen years of widowhood. Why, Granger must be at 
 least fifty.' 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Lovel, I hope you are not going to 
 call that a great age.' 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, am I likely to do so, when 
 my own fiftieth birthday is an event of the past ? 
 But I shouldn't suppose Granger to be a marrying 
 man,' he added meditatively; 'such an idea has 
 never occurred to me in conjunction with him.' And 
 here he glanced ever so slightly at his daughter : 
 ' That sort of granite man must take a great deal of 
 thawing.' 
 
 ' There are suns that will melt the deepest snows/ 
 answered the lady, laughing. ' Seriously, I am sorry 
 you will not suffer him to know }-ou. But I must 
 run away this instant ; my unfortunate ponies will 
 be wondering what has become of me. You see this 
 dear girl and I have got on so well together, that I
 
 74 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 have been quite unconscious of time ; and I had ever 
 so many more calls to make, but those must be put 
 off to another day. Let me see ; this is Tuesday. I 
 shall send a carriage for you this day week, Clarissa, 
 soon after breakfast, so that I may have you with me 
 at luncheon. Good-bye.' 
 
 Lady Laura kissed her new protegee at parting. 
 She was really fond of everything young and bright 
 and pretty ; and having come to Mr. Lovel's house 
 intending to perform a social duty, was delighted to 
 find that the duty was so easy and pleasant to her. 
 She was always pleased with new acquaintances, and 
 was apt to give her friendship on the smallest provo- 
 cation. On the other hand, there came a time when 
 she grew just a little weary of these dear sweet friends, 
 and began to find them less charming than of old ; 
 but she was never uncivil to them ; they always re- 
 mained on her list, and received stray gleams from 
 the sunlight of her patronage. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Lovel interrogatively, when the 
 mistress of Hale Castle had driven off, in the lightest 
 and daintiest of phaetons, with a model groom and a 
 pair of chestnut cobs, which seemed perfection, even 
 in Yorkshire, where every man is a connoisseur in 
 horseflesh. ' Well, child, I told you that you might
 
 CLARISSA IS TAKEN UP. VO 
 
 go into society if Lady Laura Armstrong took you 
 up, but I scarcely expected her to be as cordial as 
 she has been to-day. Nothing could have been better 
 than the result of her visit ; she seemed quite taken 
 with you, Clary.' 
 
 It was almost the first time her father had ever 
 called her Clary. It was only a small endearment, 
 but she blushed and sparkled into smiles at the wel- 
 come sound. He saw the smile and blush, but only 
 thought she was delighted with the idea of this visit 
 to the Castle. He had no notion that the placid state 
 of indifference which he maintained towards her was 
 otherwise than agreeable to her feelings. He was 
 perfectly civil to her, and he never interfered with 
 her pursuits or inclinations. What more could she 
 want from a father ? 
 
 Perhaps she assumed a new value in his eyes 
 from the time of that visit of Lady Laura's. He was 
 certainly kinder to her than usual, the girl thought, 
 as they sat on the lawn in the balmy June evening, 
 sipping their after-dinner coffee, while the moon rose 
 fair and pale above the woods of Arden Court. He 
 contemplated her with a meditative air now and then, 
 when she was not looking his way. He had always 
 known that she was beautiful, but her beauty had
 
 76 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 acquired a new emphasis from Lady Laura Arm- 
 strong's praises. A woman of the world of that class 
 was not likely to be deceived, or to mistake the kind 
 of beauty likely to influence mankind ; and in the 
 dim recesses of his mind there grew up a new hope 
 — very vague and shadowy ; he despised himself for 
 dwelling upon it so weakly — a hope that made him 
 kinder to his daughter than he had ever been yet — a 
 hope which rendered her precious to him all at once. 
 Not that he loved her any better than of old ; it was 
 only that he saw how, if fortune favoured him, this 
 girl might render him the greatest service that could 
 be done for him by any human creature. 
 
 She might marry Daniel Granger, and win back 
 the heritage he had lost. It was a foolish thought, 
 of course ; Mr. Lovel was quite aware of the su- 
 premity of folly involved in it. This Granger might 
 be the last man in the world to fall in love with a 
 girl younger than his daughter ; he might be as im- 
 pervious to beauty as the granite to which Laura 
 Armstrong had likened him. It was a foolish fancy, 
 a vain hope; but it served to brighten the medita- 
 tions of Marmaduke Lovel — who had really very 
 few pleasant subjects to think about — with a faint 
 rosy glow.
 
 CLAETSSA IS TAKEN UP. 77 
 
 ' It is the idlest dream,' lie said to himself. 
 ' When did good luck ever come my way ? But 0, 
 to hold Arden Court again — by any tie — to die know- 
 ing that my race would inherit the old gray walls !'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 
 
 Mb. Lovel gave his daughter twenty pounds ; a stretch 
 of liberality which did not a little astonish her. She 
 was very grateful for this unexpected kindness ; and 
 her father was fain to submit to be kissed and praised 
 for his goodness more than was entirely agreeable to 
 him. But he had been kinder to her ever since Lady 
 Laura's visit, and her heart was very light under that 
 genial influence. She thought he was beginning to 
 love her, and that belief made her happy. 
 
 Nor was there anything but unqualified pleasure 
 for her in the possession of twenty pounds, the largest 
 sum she had ever had at her disposal. Although the 
 solitude of her life and the troubles that overshadowed 
 it had made her thoughtful beyond her years, she was 
 still young enough to be able to put aside all thought,
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 79 
 
 and to live in the present. It was very pleasant to 
 go into Holborough, with those four crisp new five- 
 pound notes in her purse, to ask her aunt's advice 
 about her purchases. Mrs. Oliver was enraptured to 
 hear of the visit to the Castle, but naturally a little 
 despondent about the circumstances under which the 
 visit was to be paid. That Clarissa should go to 
 Lady Laura's without a maid was eminently distress- 
 ing to her aunt. 
 
 'I really think you ought to take Peters,' Mrs. 
 Oliver said meditatively. ' She is a most reliable 
 person ; and of course nobody need know that she is 
 not your own maid. I can fully rely upon her dis- 
 cretion for not breathing a word upon the subject to 
 any of the Castle servants.' 
 
 Peters was a prim middle-aged spinster, with a 
 small waist and a painfully erect figure, who com- 
 bined the office of parlour-maid at the Rectory with 
 that of personal attendant upon the Piector's wife — a 
 person whom Clarissa had always regarded with a kind 
 of awe — a lynx-eyed woman, who could see at a glance 
 the merest hint of a stray hair-pin in a massive coil 
 of plaits, or the minutest edge of a muslin petticoat 
 visible below the hem of a dress. 
 
 ' no, aunt ; please don't think of such a thing !'
 
 80 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 the girl cried eagerly. ' I could not go with a bor- 
 rowed servant ; and I don't want a maid at all ; I am 
 used to do everything for myself. Besides, Lady 
 Laura did not ask me to bring a maid.' 
 
 ' She would take that for granted. She would 
 never expect Mr. Lovel's daughter to travel without a 
 maid.' 
 
 ' But papa told her how poor he was.' 
 
 * Very unnecessary, and very bad taste on his part, 
 I think. But of course she would not suppose him 
 to be too poor to maintain a proper establishment in 
 a small way. People of that kind only understand 
 poverty in the broadest sense.' 
 
 Mrs. Oliver consented to forego the idea of send- 
 ing Peters to the Castle, with a regretful sigh ; and 
 then the two ladies went out shopping — Clarissa in 
 high spirits ; her aunt depressed by a conviction, that 
 she would not make her first entrance into society 
 with the surroundings that befitted a Lovel of Arden 
 Court. 
 
 There seemed so many things indispensable for 
 this all-important visit. The twenty pounds were 
 nearly gone by the time Miss Lovel's shopping was 
 finished. A white muslin dress for ordinary occa- 
 sions, some white gauzy fabric for a more important
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 81 
 
 toilette, a golden-brown silk walking or dinner dress, 
 a white areophane bonnet, a gray straw hat and feather, 
 gloves, boots, slippers, and a heap of small details. 
 Considerable management and discretion were re- 
 quired to make the twenty pounds go far enough; 
 but Mrs. Oliver finished her list triumphantly, leav- 
 ing one bright golden sovereign in Clarissa's purse. 
 She gave the girl two more sovereigns at parting 
 with her. 
 
 1 You will want as much as that for the servants 
 when you are coming away, Clary,' she said im- 
 peratively, as Clarissa protested against this gift. 
 1 1 don't suppose you will be called upon to spend a 
 shilling for anything else during your visit, unless 
 there should happen to be a charity sermon while you 
 are at Hale. In that case, pray don't put less than 
 half-a-crown in the plate. Those things are noticed 
 so much. And now, good-bye, my dear. I don't 
 suppose I shall see you again between this and Tues- 
 day. Miss Mallow will come to you to try-on the 
 day after to-morrow at one o'clock, remember ; be 
 sure you are at home. She will have hard work to 
 get your things ready in time ; but I shall look in 
 upon her once or twice, to keep her up to the mark. 
 Pray do your best to secure Lady Laura's friendship. 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 82 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Such an acquaintance as that is all-important to a 
 girl in your position.' 
 
 Tuesday came very quickly, as it seemed to Cla- 
 rissa, who grew a little nervous about this visit among 
 strangers, in a great strange house, as it came nearer. 
 She had seen the outside of the Castle very often : a 
 vast feudal pile it seemed, seen across the bright river 
 that flowed beneath its outward wall — a little dark- 
 some and gloomy at the best, Clarissa had thought, 
 and something too grand to make a pleasant habita- 
 tion. She had never seen the inner quadrangle, in 
 all its splendour of modern restoration — sparkling 
 freestone, fresh from the mason's chisel ; gothic win- 
 dows, glowing with rare stained glass ; and the broad 
 fertile gardens, with their terraces and banks of 
 flowers, crowded together to make a feast of colour, 
 sloping down to the setting sun. 
 
 It was still the same bright midsummer weather 
 — a blue sky without a cloud, a look upon earth and 
 heaven as if there would never be rain again, or any- 
 thing but this glow and glory of summer. At eleven 
 o'clock the carriage came from the Castle ; Clarissa's 
 trunks and travelling-bag were accommodated some- 
 how ; and the girl bade her father good-bye. 
 
 ' I daresay I shall be asked to dinner while you
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 83 
 
 are there,' he said, as they were parting, ' and I may 
 possibly come : I shall be curious to see how you 
 get on.' 
 
 ■ 0, pray do come, papa : I'm sure it will do you 
 good.' 
 
 And then she kissed him affectionately, embold- 
 ened by that softer manner which he had shown to- 
 wards her lately ; and the carriage drove off. A 
 beautiful drive past fertile fields, far stretching to- 
 wards that bright river, which wound its sinuous way 
 through all this part of the country; past woods that 
 shut in both sides of the road with a solemn gloom 
 even at midday — woods athwart which one caught 
 here and there a distant glimpse of some noble old 
 mansion lying remote within the green girdle of a 
 park. 
 
 It was something less than an hour's drive from 
 Arden to Hale : the village-church clock and a great 
 clock in the Castle stables were both striking twelve 
 as the carriage drove under a massive stone arch, 
 above which the portcullis still hung grimly. It was 
 something like going into a prison, Clarissa thought ; 
 but she had scarcely time for the reflection, when the 
 carriage swept round a curve in the smooth gravel 
 road, and she saw the sunny western front of the
 
 84 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Castle, glorious in all its brightness of summer flowers, 
 and with a tall fountain leaping and sparkling up 
 towards the blue sky. 
 
 She gave a little cry of rapture at sight of so much 
 brightness and beauty, coming upon her all at once 
 with a glad surprise. There were no human crea- 
 tures visible ; only the glory of fountain and flowers. 
 It might have been the palace of the Sleeping Beauty, 
 deep in the heart of the woodlands, for any evidence 
 to the contrary, perceptible to Clarissa in this drowsy 
 noontide ; but presently, as the carriage drove up to 
 the hall-door, a dog barked, and then a sumptuous 
 lackey appeared, and anon another, who, between 
 them, took Miss Lovel's travelling-bag and parasol, 
 prior to escorting her to some apartment, leaving the 
 heavier luggage to meaner hands. 
 
 ' The saloon, or my lady's own room, miss ?' one 
 of the grandiose creatures demanded languidly. 
 
 ' I would rather see Lady Laura alone at first, if 
 you please.' 
 
 The man bowed, and conducted her up a broad 
 staircase, lined with darksome pictures of battles by 
 land and sea, along a crimson-carpeted corridor where 
 there were many doors, to one particular portal at 
 the southern end.
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 85 
 
 He opened this with a lofty air, and announced 
 ' Miss Lovel.' 
 
 It was a very large room — all the rooms in this 
 newly-restored part of the Castle were large and lofty 
 (a great deal of the so-called ' restoration' had indeed 
 been building, and many of these splendid rooms were 
 new, newer even than the wealth of Frederick Arm- 
 strong) — a large room, furnished with chairs and 
 tables and cabinets of satin wood, with oval me- 
 dallions of pale blue Wedgwood let into the panelled 
 doors of the cabinets, and a narrow beading of lustre- 
 less gold here and there ; a room with pale blue 
 silken hangings, and a carpet of white wood-ane- 
 mones scattered on a turquoise -coloured ground. 
 There were no pictures ; art was represented only by 
 a few choice bronzes and a pair of Venetian mirrors. 
 
 Lady Laura was busy at a writing-table, filling 
 in the blanks in some notes of imitation. She was 
 always busy. On one table there were an easel and 
 the appliances of illumination ; a rare old parchment 
 Missal lying open, and my lady's copy of a florid 
 initial close beside it. On a small reading-desk 
 there was an open Tasso with a couple of Italian 
 dictionaries near at hand. Lady Laura had a taste 
 for languages, and was fond of reviving her acquaint-
 
 86 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ance with foreign classics. She was really the most 
 indefatigable of women. It was a pity perhaps that 
 her numerous accomplishments and her multifarious 
 duties towards society at large left her so very little 
 leisure to bestow upon her own children ; but then, 
 they had their foreign governesses, and maids — there 
 was one poor English drudge, by the way, who seemed 
 like a stranger in a far land — gifted in many tongues, 
 and began to imbibe knowledge from their cradles. 
 To their young imaginations the nursery wing of Hale 
 Castle must have seemed remarkably like the Tower 
 of Babel. 
 
 The lady of the Castle -laid down her pen, and 
 received Clarissa with warm affection. She really 
 liked the girl. It was only a light airy kind of lik- 
 ing, perhaps, in unison with her character ; but, so 
 far as it went, it was perfectly sincere. 
 
 ' My dear child, I am so glad to have you here/ 
 she said, placing Miss Lovel beside her on a low 
 sofa. ' You will find me dreadfully busy sometimes, 
 I daresay ; but you must not think me neglectful if 
 I cannot be very much with you downstairs. You 
 are to come in and out of this room whenever you 
 please. It is not open to the world at large, you 
 know, and I am supposed to be quite inaccessible
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 87 
 
 here; but it is open to my favourites, and I mean 
 you to be one of them, Clarissa.' 
 
 1 You are very good, dear Lady Laura.' 
 
 ' No, I am not good ; I daresay I am the most 
 selfish creature in Christendom ; but when I like 
 people, I like them with all my heart. And now tell 
 me what you think of Hale.' 
 
 1 It is lovely — it is like fairyland.' 
 
 ' Yes, it is pretty, isn't it, this new side ? It has 
 all been done in my time — it has all been my doing, 
 indeed, I may venture to say ; for Fred would have 
 gone on living contentedly in the old rooms till his 
 dying day. You can't imagine the trouble I took. I 
 read no end of books upon the domestic architecture 
 of the middle ages, went all over England hunting 
 for model houses, and led the poor architect a fine 
 life. But I think, between us, we succeeded in car- 
 rying out a very fine idea at last. The crenellated 
 roof, with its machicolations, is considered a great 
 success. There was a time when one was obliged to 
 get a license from the sovereign to build that kind of 
 thing ; but it is all changed now. The sovereign is 
 not afraid of rebellion, and the machicolations are 
 only for ornament. You have not seen the old hall 
 yet. That is splendid — a real original bit of the
 
 88 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Castle, you know, which has never heen tampered 
 with, as old as Edward III., with a raised platform 
 at the upper end, where the lord of the castle used 
 to sit while his vassals ate below him ; and with a 
 stone hearth in the centre, where they used to make 
 their wood fires, all the smoke going through an 
 opening in the roof — rather pleasant for my lord and 
 his vassals, I should think ! Take off your hat, Cla- 
 rissa ; or perhaps you would rather go to your room 
 at once. Yes, you shall, dear ; and I'll finish my 
 letters, and we can meet at luncheon.' 
 
 Lady Laura rang a bell twice ; which particular 
 summons produced a very smart-looking maid, into 
 whose charge my lady confided Clarissa, with a pretty 
 little wave of her hand, and ' a bientot, dear child.' 
 
 The maid conducted Miss Lovel to a charming 
 chintz-curtained bedroom on the second floor, look- 
 ing westward over those gorgeous flower-banks ; a 
 bedroom with a bright-looking brass bedstead, and 
 the daintiest chintz - patterned carpet, and nothing 
 mediaeval about it except the stone -framed gothic 
 window. 
 
 'I will send a person to unpack your trunks, 
 miss,' the maid said, when she had listened with a 
 deferential air to Clarissa's praise of the room. ' I
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 89 
 
 am very glad you like your rooms ; my lady was most 
 anxious you should be pleased. I'll send Fosset, 
 miss ; she is a very handy young person, and will he 
 always at your service to render you any assistance 
 you may require.' 
 
 1 Thank you — I am not likely to trouble her 
 often ; there is so very little assistance I ever want. 
 Sometimes, when I am putting on an evening dress, 
 I may ask for a little help perhaps — that is all.' 
 
 ' She will be quite at your service, miss : I hope 
 you will not scruple to ring for her,' the chief of the 
 maids replied, and then made a dignified exit. 
 
 The maid of inferior degree, Fosset, speedily ap- 
 peared; a pale-complexioned, meek -looking young- 
 woman, who set about unpacking Clarissa's trunks 
 with great skill and quickness, and arranged their 
 contents in the capacious maple wardrobe, while their 
 owner washed her face and hands and brushed the 
 dust of her brief journey out of her dark brown hair. 
 A clamorous bell rang out the summons to the mid- 
 day meal presently, and Clarissa went down to the 
 hall, where a watchful footman took her in charge. 
 
 'Luncheon is served in the octagon room, miss,' 
 he said, and straightway led her away to an apart- 
 ment in an angle of the Castle : a room with a hea-
 
 90 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 vily-carved oak ceiling, and four mullioned windows 
 overlooking the river; a room hung with gilt and 
 brown stamped leather, and furnished in the most 
 approved mediaeval style. There was an octagon 
 table, bright with fruit and flowers, and a good many 
 ladies seated round it, with only here and there a 
 gentleman. 
 
 There was one of these gentlemen standing near 
 Lady Laura's chair as Clarissa went into the room, 
 tall and stout, with a very fair good-natured counte- 
 nance, light blue eyes, and large light whiskers, 
 whom, by reason of some careless remarks of her 
 father's, she guessed at once to be Mr. Armstrong ; 
 a gentleman of whom people were apt to say, after 
 the shortest acquaintance, that there was not much 
 in him, but that he was the best fellow in the world 
 — an excellent kind of person to be intrusted with 
 the disposal of a large fortune, a man by whom his 
 neighbours could profit without a too painful sense 
 of obligation, and who was never so happy as when a 
 crowd of people were enjoying life at his expense. 
 Friends who meant to say something very generous 
 of Frederick Armstrong were wont to observe, that 
 he was not such a fool as he looked. Nor, in the 
 ordinary attributes of a country gentleman, was the
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 91 
 
 master of Hale Castle behind his compeers. He rode 
 like Assheton Smith, never missed his bird in the 
 open, and had a manly scorn of battues ; was great 
 in agriculture, and as good a judge of a horse as any 
 man in Yorkshire. His literary attainments were 
 perhaps limited to a comprehensive knowledge of the 
 science of farriery, a profound study of Buff's Guide, 
 and a familiar acquaintance with Bell's Life and two 
 or three weekly newspapers devoted to the agricul- 
 tural interest; but as he had the happiness to live 
 amongst a race which rather cultivates the divine 
 gift of ignorance, his shortcomings awakened no 
 scorn. 
 
 When he was known to have made a bad book 
 for the Leger or the Great Ebor, his friends openly 
 expressed their contempt for his mental powers ; 
 but no one despised him because an expensive uni- 
 versity training had made him nothing more than 
 a first -rate oarsman, a fair billiard- player, and a 
 distinguished thrower of the hammer. He was just 
 what a country gentleman should be in the popular 
 idea — handsome, broad-shouldered, long-limbed, with 
 the fist and biceps of a gladiator, and a brain totally 
 unburdened by the scholiast's dryasdust rubbish : 
 sharp and keen enough where the things that i
 
 92 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 rested him were in question, and never caring to 
 look beyond them. 
 
 To this gentleman Lady Laura introduced Cla- 
 rissa. 
 
 ' Fred, this is Miss Lovel — Clarissa Lovel — and 
 you and she are to like each other very much, if you 
 please. This is my husband, Clarissa, who cares 
 more for the cultivation of short-horns — : whatever 
 kind of creatures those brutes may be — and ugly 
 little shaggy black Highland cattle, than for my so- 
 ciety, a great deal ; so you will see very little of him, 
 I daresay, while you are at the Castle. In London 
 he is obliged to be shut-up with me now and then ; 
 though, as he attends nearly all the race-meetings, 
 I don't see very much of him even there ; but here 
 he escapes me altogether.' 
 
 ' Upon my word, Laura — upon my word, you 
 know, Miss Lovel, there's not a syllable of truth in 
 it,' exclaimed the gentleman with the light whiskers. 
 ' My wife's always illuminating old Missals, or read- 
 ing Italian, or practising the harmonium, or writing 
 out lists of things for her Dorcas club, or something 
 of that sort ; and a fellow only feels himself in the 
 way if he's hanging about her. She's the busiest 
 woman in the world. I don't believe the prime
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 93 
 
 minister gets through more work or receives more 
 letters than she does. And she answers 'em all 
 too, by Jove ; she's like the great Duke of Welling- 
 ton.' 
 
 ' Do you happen to take a lively interest in steam- 
 ploughs and threshing machines, and that kind of 
 thing, Clarissa ?' asked Lady Laura. 
 
 I I'm afraid not. I never even saw a steam- 
 plough : and I believe if I were to see one, I should 
 think it a most unpicturesque object.' 
 
 I I am sorry to hear that. Fred would have been 
 so delighted with you, if you'd shown agricultural 
 proclivities. We had a young lady from Westmore- 
 land here last year who knew an immense deal about 
 farming. She was especially great upon pigs, I be- 
 lieve, and quite fascinated Fred by tramping about 
 the home farm with him in thick boots. I was almost 
 jealous. But now let me introduce you to some of 
 my friends, Clarissa.' 
 
 Hereupon Miss Lovel had to bow and simper in 
 response to the polite bows and simpers of half a 
 dozen ladies. Mrs. Weldon Dacre and three Miss 
 Dacres, Rose, Grace, and Amy, tall and bony dam- 
 sels, with pale reddish hair, and paler eyebrows and 
 eyelashes, and altogether more ' style' than beauty ;
 
 94 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 Mrs. Wilmot, a handsome widow, whom Frederick 
 Armstrong and his masculine friends were wont to 
 call 'a dasher;' Miss Fermor, a rather pretty girl, 
 with a piquant nose and sparkling hazel eyes; and 
 Miss Barbara Fermor, tall and slim and dark, with a 
 romantic air. The gentlemen were a couple of offi- 
 cers — Major Mason, stout, dark, hook-nosed, and 
 close-shaven ; Captain Westleigh, fair, auburn-mous- 
 tached and whiskered — and a meek-looking gentle- 
 man, of that inoffensive curate race, against which 
 Clarissa had been warned by her father. 
 
 She found herself very quickly at home among 
 these people. The Miss Fermors were especially 
 gifted in the art of making themselves delightful to 
 strangers ; they had, indeed, undergone such train- 
 ing in a perpetual career of country-house visiting, 
 that it would have gone hard with them had they not 
 acquired this grace. The three tall pale Dacres, 
 Rose, Grace, and Amy, were more conventional, and 
 less ready to swear alliance with the stranger ; but 
 they were not disagreeable girls, and improved con- 
 siderably after a few clays' acquaintance, showing 
 themselves willing to take the bass in pianoforte 
 duets, sing a decent second, exhibit their sketch- 
 books and photographic collections in a friendly man-
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 95 
 
 ner, and communicate new stitches and patten 
 point de Russe or point d'Alengon. 
 
 After luncheon Miss Lovel went off with Captain 
 Westleigh and Miss Fermor — Lizzie, the elder and 
 livelier of the two sisters — to take her first lesson in 
 croquet. The croquet-ground was a raised plateau to 
 the left of the Italian garden, bounded on one side 
 by a grassy slope and the reedy bank of the river, 
 and on the other by a plantation of young firs ; a 
 perfect croquet-ground, smooth as an ancient bowl- 
 ing-green, and unbroken by invading shrub or flower- 
 bed. There were some light iron seats on the out- 
 skirts of the ground here and there, and that was 
 all. 
 
 Clarissa received her lesson, and (having been 
 lucky enough to send her ball through the hoop now 
 and then) was pronounced to have a natural genius 
 for croquet. It was a pleasant, idle afternoon, passed 
 amidst so bright and fair a scene, that the beauty of 
 her surroundings alone was enough to give Clarissa's 
 life a new zest — a day which the mind recalls in the 
 stormier periods of after-life, wondering at its gra- 
 cious peace, its utter freedom from care or thought. 
 Too soon came the time when there could be no more 
 of such girlish happiness for Clarissa., such perfect
 
 96 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 respite from thought of to -morrow, or regret for yes- 
 terday. 
 
 By and by came dressing for dinner, and then an 
 assemblage of visitors in the drawing-room — county 
 people from neighbouring parks and halls and courts 
 — mingling pleasantly with the Castle guests, and 
 then dinner in the great dining-room ; a splendid 
 chamber, with a music-gallery at one end, and with 
 the earliest crystal chandeliers ever used in England, 
 and given by Queen Elizabeth to the Lord of Hale, 
 for its chief decorations. At eight o'clock these 
 crystal chandeliers glittered with the light of many 
 wax-candles, though there was still the soft glow 
 of sunset in the gardens beyond the great gothic 
 windows. 
 
 That first visit to a great country house was like 
 a new page in life to Clarissa. She had not wearied 
 of her quiet existence at Mill Cottage, her books, her 
 art, her freedom from the monotonous tasks and dull 
 restraints of school ; but she felt that if life could 
 always be like this, it would be something very sweet 
 and joyous. Captain Westleigh had contrived to 
 take her in to dinner. 
 
 ' I was determined to do it,' he told her confiden- 
 tially, as they sat down ; i so I made a rush across to
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 97 
 
 you when I saw Lady Laura's eye upon you, with a 
 malicious intention of billeting you upon young Hal- 
 kin, the great cloth-manufacturer's son. I know 
 Lady Laura so well ; she will he trying to plant all 
 those rich manufacturing fellows upon you : she has 
 quite a mania for that sort of people.' 
 
 The Captain made himself very pleasant all 
 through that long ceremonial of dinner. If the bril- 
 liant things which he said were not quite the newest 
 in the world, they were at least new to Clarissa, who 
 rewarded his efforts to please her by seeming very 
 much amused, and flattered and stimulated him to 
 new flights by her appreciation. He told her all 
 about the people round her, making her feel less like 
 a stranger in a foreign country; and that pageant - 
 like dinner, long as it was, did not seem at all too 
 long to be pleasant. 
 
 After dinner there was a little music and sing- 
 ing at one end of the drawing-room, to which people 
 listened or not, as they pleased ; a friendly whist- 
 table established at the other end, at which four 
 elderly, gray -whiskered, and bald-headed country 
 gentlemen played gravely for an hour or so ; and a 
 good deal of desultory strolling out through the open 
 windows to the terrace for the contemplation of the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 y» THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 moonlit gardens, with perhaps a spice of flirtation. 
 Lady Laura was never quite happy unless she saw 
 something like flirtation going on among her younger 
 visitors. She was pleased to see Captain Westleigh's 
 attention to Clarissa, though she would rather that 
 James Halkin had occupied the ground. But, alas, 
 Mr. Halkin, stiff and solemn as a policeman on duty, 
 was standing by the chair of the very palest and least 
 beautiful of the Miss Dacres, mildly discussing a col- 
 lection of photographs of Alpine scenery. They had 
 both been over the same country, and were quite en- 
 thusiastic when they came to peaks and mountain 
 gorges that they remembered. 
 
 ' I was there with another fellow, and he nearly 
 slipped just on that edge there. It was as near as 
 a — ' Mr. Halkin was going to say ' a toucher,' but it 
 occurred to him that that vague expression was 
 scarcely permissible in conversation with a lady — 
 'the nearest thing you ever saw in your life, in fact. 
 If it hadn't been for his alpen-stock, it would have 
 been all over with him; and the guides told us 
 there'd been a fellow killed there the year before. 
 We stopped at Eigot's — I think the dearest hotel I 
 was ever at ; but they gave us some very fair still 
 champagne, very fair indeed.'
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 99 
 
 Lady Laura took occasion to warn Clarissa against 
 the Captain when they separated for the night, in the 
 corridor upon which my lady's rooms opened. 
 
 ' Very nice, isn't he, dear ? Come into my dress- 
 ing-room for a few minutes' talk ;' and my lady led 
 Clarissa into another charming chamber, all blue silk 
 and satin-wood, like the morning room. ' Yes, he is 
 very nice, and he really seemed quite epris. Poor 
 Herbert Westleigh ! I've known him for years. He 
 belongs to one of the oldest families in Somerset- 
 shire, and is a capital fellow, as my husband says ; 
 but a person not to be thought of by you, Clarissa. 
 There are a crowd of brothers, and I doubt if Herbert 
 has a hundred a year beyond his pay. Did you 
 notice that Mr. Halkin, a rather sandy-haired young 
 man with a long nose ? That young fellow will come 
 into thirty thousand a year by and by.' 
 
 ' Yes, Lady Laura, I did notice him a little when 
 he was talking to 'ie of the Miss Dacres. He seemed 
 very stupid.' 
 
 ' Stupid, my dear Clarissa ! Why, I have been 
 told that young man made a good deal of character 
 at Oxford. But I daresay you are taken by Herbert 
 Westleigh's rattling way. Now remember, my dear, 
 I have warned you.'
 
 100 THE LOVELS OP ARDEN. 
 
 ' There is no occasion for any warning, Lady 
 Laura. Believe me, I am in no danger. I thought 
 Captain Westleigh was very kind, and I liked him 
 because he told me all about the other people ; that 
 is all.' 
 
 ' Very well, dear. You will see a good many peo- 
 ple here ; there is an advantage in that — one influ- 
 ence neutralises another. But I should really like 
 you to take some notice of that Mr. Halkin. He 
 will be a good deal here, I daresay. His family live 
 at Selbrook Hall, only four miles off. The father and 
 mother are the plainest, homeliest people, but very 
 sensible ; live in a quiet unpretending style, and 
 can't spend a quarter of their income. When I speak 
 of thirty thousand a year, I don't reckon the accumu- 
 lations that young man will inherit. He is the only 
 son. There is a sister; but she is lame and a con- 
 firmed invalid — not likely to live many years, I 
 think.' 
 
 Clarissa smiled at Lady Laura's earnestness. 
 
 1 One would think you were in league with papa, 
 dear Lady Laura. He says I am bound to marry a 
 rich man.' 
 
 ' Of course; it is a solemn duty when a girl is 
 handsome and not rich. Look at me : what would
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 101 
 
 my life have been without Fred, Clarissa? There 
 were five of us, child ; five daughters to be married, 
 only think of that ; and there are still three unmar- 
 ried. One of my sisters is coming here to-morrow. 
 I do so hope you will get on with her ; but she is 
 rather peculiar. I am glad to say she is engaged at 
 last — quite an old affair, and I think an attachment 
 on both sides for some time past ; but it has only 
 lately come to a definite engagement. The gentle- 
 man's prospects were so uncertain ; but that is all 
 over now. The death of an elder brother quite alters 
 his position, and he will have a very fine estate by 
 and by. He is coming here too, in a few days, and 
 I'm sure I hope the marriage will take place soon. 
 But I must not keep you here chattering, at the risk 
 of spoiling your fresh looks.' 
 
 And with a gracious good-night Lady Laura dis- 
 missed her new protegee. 
 
 Yes, it was a pleasant life, certainly ; a life that 
 drifted smoothly onward with the tide, and to all 
 seeming unshadowed by one sorrowful thought or 
 care. And yet, no doubt, with but a few youthful 
 exceptions, every guest at Hale Castle had his or her 
 particular burden to carry, and black Care sat behind 
 the gentlemen as they rode to small country meetings
 
 102 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 or primitive cattle-fairs. To Clarissa Lovel the state 
 of existence was so new, that it was scarcely strange 
 she should be deluded by the brightness and glitter 
 of it, and believe that these people could have known 
 no sorrow. 
 
 She found herself looking forward with unwonted 
 interest to the arrival of Lady Laura's sister, Lady 
 Geraldine Challoner. To a girl who has never had a 
 lover — to whom the whole science of love is yet a 
 profound inscrutable mystery — there is apt to be 
 something especially interesting in the idea of an 
 engagement. To her the thought of betrothal is won- 
 drously solemn. A love-match too, and an attach- 
 ment of long standing — there were the materials for 
 a romance in these brief hints of Lady Laura's. And 
 then, again, her sister described this Lady Geraldine 
 as a peculiar person, with whom it was rather doubt- 
 ful whether Clarissa would be able to get on. All 
 this made her so much the more anxious to see the 
 expected guest ; and in the morning's drive, and the 
 afternoon's croquet, she thought more of Lady Geral- 
 dine than of the landscape or the game. 
 
 Croquet was over — Clarissa had taken part in a 
 regular game this afternoon — and the players were 
 strolling about the gardens in couples, in an idle
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 103 
 
 half-hour before the first dinner-bell, when Miss 
 Lovel met Lady Laura with another lady. They 
 were sauntering slowly along one of the sunny gravel 
 walks — there was every charm in this Italian garden 
 except shade — and stopped on seeing Clarissa. 
 
 ' Now, Geraldine, I shall be able to introduce you 
 to my favourite, Clarissa Lovel,' said Lady Laura; 
 ' Captain "Westleigli you know of old.' 
 
 The Captain and Lady Geraldine shook hands, 
 declaring that they were quite old friends — had known 
 each other for ages, and so on ; and Clarissa had a 
 few moments' pause, in which to observe the young 
 lady. 
 
 She was tall and slim, her sister's junior by per- 
 haps five years, but not more ; very fair, with bright 
 auburn hair — that golden-tinted hair, of which there 
 seems to be so much more nowadays than was to be 
 seen twenty years ago. She was handsome — very 
 handsome — Clarissa decided at once ; but it seemed 
 to her rather a cold hard style of beauty ; the straight 
 nose, the mouth, and chin chiseled with a clearness 
 and distinctness that was almost sharpness ; the 
 large luminous blue eyes, which did not seem to pos- 
 sess much capacity for tenderness. 
 
 Lady Laura was very proud of this sister, and
 
 104 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 perhaps just a little afraid of her ; but of course that 
 latter fact was not obvious to strangers ; she was only 
 a shade less volatile than usual in Geraldine's pre- 
 sence. Geraldine was the beauty of the Challoner 
 family, and her career had been a failure hitherto ; so 
 that there was much rejoicing-, in a quiet way, now 
 that Lady Geraldine's destiny was apparently decided, 
 and in an advantageous manner. 
 
 She was sufficiently gracious to Clarissa, but dis- 
 played none of that warmth which distinguished Lady 
 Laura's manner to her new friend ; and when the 
 sisters had turned aside into another path, and were 
 out of hearing, Geraldine asked rather sharply why 
 • that girl' was here ? 
 
 ' My dear Geraldine, she is perfectly charming. 
 I have taken the greatest fancy to her.' 
 
 ' My dear Laura, when will you leave off those 
 absurd fancies for strangers ?' 
 
 ' Clarissa Lovel is not a stranger ; you must 
 remember how intimate papa used to be with her 
 father.' 
 
 ' I only remember that Mr. Lovel was a very 
 selfish person, and that he has lost his estate and 
 gone down in the world. Why should you trouble 
 yourself about his daughter ? You can only do the
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 105 
 
 girl harm by bringing her here ; she will have to go 
 out as a governess . I daresay, and will be writing to 
 you whenever she is out of a situation to ask some 
 favour or other, and boring you to death. I cannot 
 think how you can be so inconsiderate as to entangle 
 yourself with that kind of acquaintance. ' 
 
 * I don't mean Clarissa to be a governess ; I mean 
 her to make a good marriage." 
 
 '0. of course it is very easy to say that." ex- 
 claimed Lady Geraldine scornfully ; ' but you have 
 not been so fortunate as a match-maker hitherto. 
 Look at Emily and Louisa.' 
 
 ' Emily and Louisa were so intractable and dif- 
 ficult to please, that I could do nothing for them ; 
 and now I look upon them as confirmed old maids. 
 But it is a different thing with Clarissa. She is very 
 sensible : and I do not think she would stand in her 
 own light if I could bring about what I wish. And 
 then she is so lovely. Emily and Louisa were good- 
 looking enough half a dozen years ago, but this girl 
 is simply perfect. Come, Geraldine, you can afford 
 to praise her. Is she not lovely?' 
 
 "Yes. I suppose she is handsome/ the other an- 
 swered icily. 
 
 ' You suppose she is handsome ! It is really too
 
 106 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 bad of you to be prejudiced against a girl I wanted 
 you to like. As if this poor little Clarissa could do 
 anybody any harm ! But never mind, she must do 
 without your liking. And now tell me all about 
 George Fairfax. I was so glad to hear your news, 
 dear — so thoroughly rejoiced.' 
 
 ' There is no occasion for such profound gladness. 
 I could have gone on existing very well as Geraldine 
 Challoner.' 
 
 ' Of course ; but I had much rather see you well 
 married, and your own mistress ; and this is such a 
 good match.' 
 
 ' Yes ; from a worldly point of view, I suppose, 
 the affair is unexceptionable,' Geraldine Challoner 
 answered, with persistent indifference ; simulated in- 
 difference, no doubt, but not the less provoking to 
 her sister. ' George will be rich by and by, and he 
 is well enough off now. We shall be able to afford a 
 house in one of the streets out of Park-lane — I have 
 a rooted detestation for both Belgravia and Tyburnia 
 — and a carriage, and so on ; and I shall not be wor- 
 ried as I have been about my milliner's bills.' 
 
 1 And then you are very fond of him, Geraldine,' 
 Lady Laura said softly. 
 
 There were still little romantic impulses in the
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 107 
 
 matron's heart,, and this studied coldness of her sis- 
 ter's tone wounded her. 
 
 1 Yes, of course that is the beginning of the busi- 
 ness. We like each other very well,' Lady Geraldine 
 replied, still with the same unenthusiastic air. ' I 
 think there has always been some kind of liking be- 
 tween us. We suit each other very well, you see ; 
 have the same way of thinking about most things, 
 take the same view of life, and so on.' 
 
 Lady Laura gave a faint sigh of assent. She was 
 disappointed by her sister's tone ; for in the time 
 past she had more than once suspected that Geraldine 
 Challoner loved George Fairfax with a passionate 
 half-despairing love, which, if unrequited, might make 
 the bane of her life. And, lo ! here was the same 
 Geraldine discussing her engagement as coolly as if 
 the match had been the veriest marriage of conveni- 
 ence ever planned by a designing dowager. She did 
 not understand how much pride had to do with this 
 reticence, or what volcanic depths may sometimes lie 
 beneath the Alpine snows of such a nature as Ge- 
 raldine Challoner 's. 
 
 In the evening Lady Geraldine was the centre of 
 a circle of old friends and admirers ; and Clarissa 
 could only observe her from a distance, and wonder
 
 108 THE LOVELS OF AEDEX. 
 
 at her brilliancy, her power to talk of anything and 
 everything with an air of unlimited wisdom and ex- 
 perience, and the perfect ease with which she received 
 the homage offered to her beauty and wit. The cold 
 proud face lighted up wonderfully at night, and under 
 the softening influence of so much adulation ; and 
 Lady Geraldine's smiles, though wanting in warmth 
 at the best, were very fascinating. Clarissa wondered 
 that so radiant a creature could have been so long 
 unmarried, that it could be matter for rejoicing that 
 she was at last engaged. It must have been her own 
 fault, of course ; such a woman as this could have 
 been a duchess if she pleased, Clarissa thought. 
 
 Lizzy Fermor came up to her while she was ad- 
 miring the high-bred beauty. 
 
 ' Well, Miss Lovel, what do you think of her ?' 
 
 ' Lady Geraldine ? I think she is wonderfully 
 handsome — and fascinating.' 
 
 ' Do you ? Then I don't think you can know the 
 meaning of the word " fascination." If I were a man, 
 that woman would be precisely the last in the world 
 to touch my heart. yes, I admit that she is very 
 handsome — classic profile, bright blue eyes, com- 
 plexion of lilies and roses, real golden hair — not dyed, 
 you know — and so on ; but I should as soon think of
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. 109 
 
 falling in love with a statue of snow as with Lady 
 Geraldine Challoner. I think she has just about 
 as much heart as the statue would have.' 
 
 1 Those people with cold manners have sometimes 
 very warm hearts,' Clarissa remonstrated, feeling that 
 gratitude to Lady Laura made it incumbent on her 
 to defend Lady Laura's sister. 
 
 ' Perhaps ; but that is not the case with her. She 
 would trample upon a hecatomb of hearts to arrive at 
 the object of her ambition. I think she might have 
 made more than one brilliant marriage since she has 
 been out — something like ten years, you know — only 
 she was too cold, too obviously mercenary. I am very 
 sorry for George Fairfax.' 
 
 ' Do you know him ?' 
 
 ' Yes, and he is a very noble fellow. He has been 
 rather wild, I believe ; but of course we are not sup- 
 posed to know anything about that; and I have heard 
 that he is the most generous-hearted of men. I know 
 Lady Geraldine has contrived to keep him dangling 
 about her whenever he was in England for the last 
 six or eight years ; but I thought it was one of those 
 old-established flirtations that would never come to 
 anything — a kind of institution. I was quite sur- 
 prised to hear of their engagement — and very sorry.'
 
 110 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 'But Lady Geraldine is very much attached to 
 him, is she not ?* 
 
 6 yes, I daresay she likes him ; it would be 
 almost difficult for any one to avoid liking him. She 
 used to do her utmost to keep him about her always, 
 I know; and I believe the flirtation has cost her more 
 than one chance of a good marriage. But I doubt if 
 we should have ever heard of this engagement if 
 Keginald Fairfax had not died, and left his brother 
 the heir of Lyvedon.' 
 
 ' Is Lyvedon a very grand place T 
 
 ' It is a fine estate, I believe ; a noble old house 
 in Kent, with considerable extent of land attached to 
 it. The place belongs now to Sir Spencer Lyvedon, 
 an old bachelor, whose only sister is George Fairfax's 
 mother. The property is sure to come to Mr. Fairfax 
 in a few years. He is to be here to-morrow, they 
 say; and you will see him, and be able to judge for 
 yourself whether Lady Geraldine is worthy of him.' 
 
 There was a little excursion proposed and planned 
 that evening for the next day — a drive to Marley 
 Wood, a delicious bit of forest about seven miles from 
 the Castle, and a luncheon in the open air. The 
 party was made up on the spot. There were ladies 
 enough to fill two carriages; a couple of servants were
 
 AT HALE CASTLE. Ill 
 
 to go first with the luncheon in a wagonette, and the 
 gentlemen were to ride. Everybody was delighted 
 with the idea. It was one of those unpremeditated 
 affairs which are sure to be a success. 
 
 ' I am glad to have something to do with myself,' 
 said Lady Geraldine. ' It is better than dawdling 
 away one's existence at croquet.' 
 
 ' I hope you are not going to be dull here, Ger- 
 aldine,' replied Lady Laura. ' There are the Helston 
 races next week, and a flower-show at Holborough.' 
 
 ' I hate small country race-meetings and country 
 flower-shows ; but of course I am not going to be 
 dull, Laura. The Castle is very nice ; and I shall 
 hear all about your last new protegees, and your 
 Dorcas societies, and your model cottages, and your 
 architect, and your hundred-and-one schemes for the 
 benefit of your fellow-man. It is not possible to be 
 dull in the presence of so much energy.'
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 
 
 The next day was lovely. There seemed, indeed, no 
 possibility of variation in the perfection of this sum- 
 mer weather ; and Clarissa Lovel felt her spirits as 
 light as if the unknown life before her had been all 
 brightness, unshadowed by one dread or care. The 
 party for Marley Wood started about an hour after 
 breakfast — Lady Laura, Mrs. Dacre, Barbara Termor, 
 and Clarissa, in one carriage ; two Miss Dacres, Lady 
 Geraldine, and Mrs. Wilmot in the other; Lizzy 
 Fermor and Rose Dacre on horseback; with a small 
 detachment of gentlemen in attendance upon them. 
 There were wide grassy waste-lands on each side of 
 the road almost all the way to the wood, on which the 
 equestrian party could disport themselves, without 
 much inconvenience from the dust of the two car- 
 riages. Once arrived at the wood, there were botan-
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 113 
 
 ising, fern -hunting, sketching, and flirtation without 
 limit. Lady Laura was quite happy, discussing her 
 Dorcas societies and the ingratitude of her model 
 cottagers, with Mrs. Dacre : Lady Geraldine sat at 
 the foot of a great shining Leech, with her white dress 
 set off by a background of scarlet shawl, and her hat 
 lying on the grass beside her. She seemed too list- 
 less to ramble about with the rest of the party, or to 
 take the faintest interest in the conversation of any of 
 the gentlemen who tried to talk to her. She amused 
 herself in a desultory way with a drawing-book and a 
 volume of a novel, and did not appear to consider it 
 incumbent on her to take notice of any one. 
 
 Clarissa and Barbara Fermor wandered away into 
 the heart of the wood, attended by the indefatigable 
 Captain Westleigh, and sketched little bits of fern 
 and undergrowth in their miniature sketch-books, 
 much to the admiration of the Captain, who declared 
 that Clarissa had a genius for landscape. ' As you 
 have for croquet and for everything else, I think,' he 
 said; ' only you are so quiet about your resources. 
 But I am very glad you have not that grand sultana 
 manner of Lady Geraldine Challoner's. I really can't 
 think how any man can stand it, especially such a 
 man as George Fairfax.' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 'Why " especially" ?' asked Miss Fermor curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Well, I don't know exactly how to explain my 
 meaning to a lady — because he has knocked about 
 the world a good deal — seen a great deal of life, in 
 short. II a vecu, as the French say. He is not the 
 kind of man to be any woman's slave, I should think; 
 he knows too much of the sex for that. He would 
 take matters with rather a high hand, I should fancy. 
 And then Lady Geraldine, though she is remarkably 
 handsome, and all that kind of thing, is not in the 
 first freshness of her youth. She is nearly as old as 
 George, I should say ; and when a woman is the same 
 age as a man, it is her misfortune to seem much 
 older. No, Miss Fermor, upon my word, I don't con- 
 sider them fairly matched.' 
 
 ' The lady has rank,' said Barbara Fermor. 
 
 ' Yes, of course. It will be Mr. and Lady Ger- 
 aldine Fairfax. There are some men who care for 
 that kind of thing; but I don't suppose George 
 is one of them. The Fairfaxes are of a noble old 
 Scotch family, you know, and hold themselves equal 
 to any of our nobility.' 
 
 ' When is Mr. Fairfax expected at the Castle ?' 
 
 'Not till to-night. He is to come by the last
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 115 
 
 train, I believe. You may depend Lady Geraldine 
 would not be here if there were any chance of his 
 arriving in the middle of the day. She will keep him 
 up to collar, you may be sure. I shouldn't like to 
 be engaged to a woman armed with the experience 
 of a decade of London seasons. It must be tight 
 work !' 
 
 A shrill bell, pealing gaily through the wood, 
 summoned them to luncheon ; a fairy banquet spread 
 upon the grass under a charmed circle of beeches ; 
 chicken-pies and lobster-salads, mayonaise of salmon 
 and daintily-glazed cutlets in paper frills, inexhaust- 
 ible treasure of pound-cake and strawberries and 
 cream, with a pyramid of hothouse pines and peaches 
 in the centre of the turf- spread banquet. And for 
 the wines, there were no effervescent compounds from 
 the laboratory of the wine -chemist — Lady Laura's 
 guests were not thirsty cockneys, requiring to be re- 
 freshed by ' fizz' — but delicate amber-tinted vintages 
 of the Rhineland, which seemed too ethereal to in- 
 toxicate, and yet were dangerous. And for the more 
 thirsty souls there were curiously compounded 'cups:' 
 hock and seltzer ; claret and soda-water, fortified with 
 curacoa and flavoured artistically with burrage or 
 sliced pine-apple.
 
 116 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 The banquet was a merry one ; and it was nearly 
 four o'clock when the ladies had done trifling with 
 strawberries and cream, and the gentlemen had sus- 
 pended their homage to the Ehineland. Then came 
 a still more desultory wandering of couples to and 
 fro among the shadowy intricacies of the wood ; and 
 Clarissa having for once contrived to get rid of the 
 inevitable Captain, who had been beguiled away to 
 inspect some remote grotto under convoy of Barbara 
 Fermor, was free to wander alone whither she pleased. 
 She was rather glad to be alone for a little. Marley 
 Wood was not new to her. It had been a favourite 
 spot of her brother Austin's, and the two had spent 
 many a pleasant day beneath the umbrage of those 
 old forest-trees ; she sitting and reading, neither of 
 them talking very much, only in a spasmodic way, 
 when Austin was suddenly moved by some caprice to 
 pour out his thoughts into the ear of his little sister 
 — strange bitter thoughts they were sometimes ; but 
 the girl listened as to the inspirations of genius. 
 Here he had taught her almost all that she had ever 
 learned of landscape art. She had only improved by 
 long practice upon those early simple lessons. She 
 was glad to be alone, for these old memories were sad 
 ones. She wandered quite away from the rest, and,
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 117 
 
 sitting down upon a bank that sloped towards a narrow 
 streamlet, began to sketch stray tufts and clusters of 
 weedy undergrowth — a straggling blackberry -branch, 
 a bit of ivy creeping sinuously along the uneven 
 ground — in an absent desultory way, thinking of her 
 brother and the days gone by. She had been alone 
 like this about half an hour, when the crackling of 
 the brambles near her warned her of an approaching 
 footstep. She looked up, and saw a stranger ap- 
 proaching her through the sunlight and shadows of 
 the wood — a tall man, in a loose gray overcoat. 
 
 A stranger '? No. As he came nearer to her, the 
 face seemed very familiar : and yet in that first mo- 
 ment she could not imagine where she had seen him. 
 A little nearer, and she remembered all at once. 
 This was her companion of the long railway journey 
 from London to Holborough. She blushed at the 
 recollection, not altogether displeased to see him 
 again, and yet remembering bitterly that cruel mis- 
 take she had made about Arden Court. She might 
 be able to explain her error now, if he should recog- 
 nise her and stop to speak; but that was scarcely 
 likely. He had forgotten her utterly, no doubt, by 
 this time. 
 
 She went on with her sketching— a trailing spray
 
 118 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 of Irish ivy, winding away and losing itself in a con- 
 fusion of bramble and fern, every leaf sharply denned 
 by the light pencil-touches, with loving pre-Eaphaelite 
 care — she went on, trying to think that it was not 
 the slightest consequence to her whether this man 
 remembered their brief acquaintance of the railway- 
 carriage. And yet she would have been wounded, 
 ever so little, if he had forgotten her. She knew so 
 few people, that this accidental acquaintance seemed 
 almost a friend. He had known her brother, too ; 
 and there had been something in his manner that 
 implied an interest in her fate. 
 
 She bent a little lower over the sketch-book, doing 
 her uttermost not to be seen, perhaps all the more 
 because she really did wish for the opportunity of 
 explaining that mistake about Arden Court. Her 
 face was almost hidden under the coquettish gray 
 hat, as she bent over her drawing ; but the gentle- 
 man came on towards her with evident purpose. It 
 was only to make an inquiry, however. 
 
 ' I am looking for a picnic party,' he said. ' I 
 discovered the debris of a luncheon yonder, but no 
 human creature visible. Perhaps you can kindly tell 
 me where the strayed revellers are to be found ; you 
 are one of them, perhaps ?'
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 119 
 
 Clarissa looked up at kim, blushing furiously, 
 and very much ashamed of herself for the weakness, 
 and then went on with her drawing in a nervous way, 
 as she answered him, 
 
 ' Yes, I am with Lady Laura Armstrong's party ; 
 but I really cannot tell you where to look for them 
 all. They are roaming about in every direction, I 
 believe.' 
 
 ' Good gracious me !' cried the gentleman, com- 
 ing a good deal nearer — stepping hastily across the 
 streamlet, in fact, which had divided him from Cla- 
 rissa hitherto. ' Have I really the pleasure of speak- 
 ing to Miss Lovel ? This is indeed a surprise. I 
 scarcely expected ever to see you again.' 
 
 ' Nor I to see you,' Clarissa answered, recovering 
 herself a little by this time, and speaking with her 
 accustomed frankness. ' And I have been very anxious 
 to see you again.' 
 
 'Indeed !' cried the gentleman eagerly. 
 
 ' In order to explain a mistake I made that night 
 in the railway-carriage, in speaking of Arden Court. 
 I talked of the place as if it had still belonged to 
 papa ; I did not know that he had sold it, and fancied 
 I was going home there. It was only when I saw
 
 120 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 my uncle that I learnt the truth. You must have 
 thought it very strange.' 
 
 ' I was just a little mystified, I confess, for I had 
 dined at the Court with Mr. Granger.' 
 
 ' Papa had sold the dear old place, and, disliking 
 the idea of writing such unpleasant news, had told 
 me nothing about the sale. It was not wise, of 
 course ; but he felt the loss of Arden so keenly, I 
 can scarcely wonder that he could not bring himself 
 to write about it.' 
 
 ' It would have been better to have spared you, 
 though,' the unknown answered gravely. 'I daresay 
 you were as fond of the old home as ever your father 
 could have been ?' 
 
 ' I don't think it would be possible for any one to 
 love Arden better than I. But then, of course, a 
 man is always prouder than a woman — ' 
 
 ' I am not so sure of that,' the stranger muttered 
 parenthetically. 
 
 ' — And papa felt the degradation involved in the 
 loss.' 
 
 ' I won't admit of any degradation in the case. 
 A gentleman is none the less a gentleman for having 
 spent his fortune rather recklessly, and the old blood 
 is no less pure without the old acres. If your father
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 121 
 
 were a wise man, he might be happier now than he 
 has ever been. The loss of a great estate is the loss 
 of a bundle of cares.' 
 
 ' I daresay that is very good philosophy,' Clarissa 
 answered, smiling, beguiled from painful thoughts 
 by the lightness of his tone ; ' but I doubt if it applies 
 to all cases — not to papa's, certainly.' 
 
 'You were sketching, I see, when I interrupted 
 you. I remember you told me that night of your 
 fondness for art. May I see what you were doing ?' 
 
 ' It is hardly worth showing you. I was only 
 amusing myself, sketching at random — that ivy 
 straggling along there, or anything that caught my 
 eye.' 
 
 ' But that sort of thing indicates so much. I 
 see you have a masterly touch for so young an artist. 
 I won't say anything hackneyed about so fair a one ; 
 for women are showing us nowadays that there are 
 no regions of art closed against them. Well, it is a 
 divine amusement, and a glorious profession.' 
 
 There was a little pause after this, during which 
 Clarissa looked at her watch, and finding it nearly 
 five o'clock, began to put up her pencils and drawing- 
 book. 
 
 ' I did not think that you knew Lady Laura Arm-
 
 122 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 strong,' she said ; and then blushed for the speech, 
 remembering that, as she knew absolutely nothing 
 about himself or his belongings, the circumstance 
 of her ignorance on this one point was by no means 
 surprising. 
 
 ' No; nor did I expect to meet you here,' replied 
 the gentleman. ' And yet I might almost have done 
 so, knowing that you lived at Arden. But, you see, 
 it is so long since we met, and I — ' 
 
 ' Had naturally forgotten me.' 
 
 'No, I had not forgotten you, Miss Lovel, nor 
 would it have been natural for me to forget you. I 
 am very glad to meet you again under such agreeable 
 auspices. You are going to stay at the Castle a long 
 time, I hope. I am booked for an indefinite visit.' 
 
 1 no, I don't suppose I shall stay very long. 
 Lady Laura is extremely kind ; but this is my first 
 visit, and she must have many friends who have a 
 greater claim upon her hospitality.' 
 
 ' Hale Castle is a large place, and I am sure Lady 
 Laura has always room for agreeable guests.' 
 
 ' She is very, very kind. You have known her a 
 long time, perhaps ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I have been intimate with the Challoners 
 ever since I was a boy. Lady Laura was always
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 123 
 
 charming ; but I think her marriage with Fred Arm- 
 strong — who worships the ground she walks on — and 
 the possession of Hale Castle have made her abso- 
 lutely perfect." 
 
 ' And you know her sister Lady Geraldine, of 
 course ?' 
 
 1 yes, I know Geraldine.' 
 
 ' Do you know Mr. Fairfax, the gentleman to 
 whom she is engaged '?' 
 
 ' Well, yes ; I am supposed to have some know- 
 ledge of that individual.' 
 
 Something in his smile, and a certain significance 
 in his tone, let in a sudden light upon Clarissa's 
 mind. 
 
 * I am afraid I am asking very foolish questions,' 
 she said. ' You are Mr. Fairfax ?' 
 
 1 Yes, I am George Fairfax. I forgot that I had 
 omitted to tell you my name that night.' 
 
 ' And I had no idea that I was speaking to Mr. 
 Fairfax. Y^ou were not expected till quite late this 
 evening.' 
 
 1 Xo : but I found my business in London easier 
 to manage than I had supposed it would be ; so, as 
 in duty bound, I came down here directly I found 
 myself free. When I arrived at the Castle, I was
 
 124 THE LOVELS OF ARDEX. 
 
 told of this picnic, and rode off at once to join the 
 party.' 
 
 ' And I am keeping you here, when you ought to 
 be looking for your friends.' 
 
 ' There is no hurry. I have done my duty, and 
 am here ; that is the grand point. Shall we go and 
 look for them together ?' 
 
 ' If you like. I daresay we shall be returning to 
 the Castle very soon.' 
 
 They sauntered slowly away, in and out among 
 the trees, towards a grassy glade, where there was 
 more open space for walking, and where the after- 
 noon sun shone warmly on the smooth turf. 
 
 ' I hope you get on very well with Geraldine ?' 
 Mr. Fairfax said presently. 
 
 It was almost the same phrase Lady Laura had 
 used about her sister. 
 
 'I have seen so little of her yet,' Clarissa an- 
 swered, rather embarrassed by this inquiry. ' I 
 should like to know her very much ; but she only 
 arrived yesterday, and we have scarcely spoken half- 
 a-dozen words to each other yet.' 
 
 ' You will hardly like her at first, perhaps,' Mr. 
 Fairfax went on, doubtfully. ' People who don't 
 know much of her are apt to fancy her cold and
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 125 
 
 proud ; but to those whom she really likes she is 
 all that is charming, and I don't think she can fail 
 to like you.' 
 
 • You are very kind to say so. I hope she may 
 like me. Do you know, I have been so much inte- 
 rested in Lady Geraldine from the first, before I saw 
 her even — partly, perhaps, because her sister told 
 me about her engagement. You will think that very 
 romantic and silly, I daresay.' 
 
 1 Not at all : a young lady is bound to be inte- 
 rested in that kind of thing. And I hope your in- 
 terest in Lady Geraldine was not lessened when you 
 did see her.' 
 
 'It could scarcely be that. Xo one could help 
 admiring her." 
 
 ' Yes, she is very handsome, there is no question 
 about that ; she has been an acknowledged beauty 
 ever since she came out. I think I can catch a 
 glimpse of her yonder among the trees ; I see a white 
 dress and a scarlet shawl. Geraldine always had a 
 penchant for scarlet draperies.' 
 
 4 Yes, that is Lady Geraldine.' 
 
 They hastened their steps a little, and came pre- 
 sently to the circle of beeches where they had 
 lunched, and where most of the party were now as-
 
 126 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 sembled, preparing for the return journey. Lady 
 Geraldine was sauntering to and fro with Major 
 Mason, listening with a somewhat indifferent air to 
 that gentleman's discourse. 
 
 She caught sight of her lover the moment he ap- 
 peared; and Clarissa saw the statuesque face light 
 up with a faint flush of pleasure that brightened it 
 wonderfully. But however pleased she might be, 
 Lady Geraldine Challoner was the last of women to 
 demonstrate her pleasure in her lover's arrival by 
 any overt act. She received him with the tranquil 
 grace of an empress, who sees only one courtier more 
 approach the steps of her throne. They shook hands 
 placidly, after Mr. Fairfax had shaken hands and 
 talked for two or three minutes with Lady Laura Arm- 
 strong, who welcomed him with considerable warmth. 
 
 The major dropped quietly away from Lady Ger- 
 aldine's side, and the plighted lovers strolled under 
 the trees for a little, pending the signal for the return. 
 
 ' So you know Miss Lovel ?' Geraldine said, with 
 an icy air of surprise, as soon as she and George 
 Fairfax were alone. 
 
 1 1 can hardly say that I know her ; our acquaint- 
 ance is the merest accident,' answered Mr. Fairfax ; 
 and then proceeded to relate his railway adventure.
 
 AND THIS IS GEORGE FAIRFAX. 127 
 
 1 How very odd that she should travel alone !' 
 
 1 Scarcely so odd, when you remember the fact of 
 
 her father's poverty. He could not be supposed to 
 
 find a maid for his daughter.' 
 
 * But he might be supposed to take some care of 
 her. He ought not to have allowed her to travel 
 alone — at night too.' 
 
 ' It was careless and imprudent, no doubt. Hap- 
 pily she came to no harm. She was spared from any 
 encounter with a travelling swell - mobsman, who 
 would have garrotted her for the sake of her watch 
 and purse, or an insolent bagman, who would have 
 made himself obnoxiously agreeable on account of 
 her pretty face.' 
 
 * I suppose she has been in the habit of going 
 about the world by herself. That accounts for her 
 rather strong-minded air.' 
 
 I Do you find her strong-minded ? I should have 
 thought her quite gentle and womanly.' 
 
 I I really know nothing about her ; and I must 
 not say anything against her. She is Laura's last 
 protegee ; and you know, when my sister takes any 
 one up, it is always a case of rapture.' 
 
 After this the lovers began to talk about them- 
 selves, or rather George Fairfax talked about himself,
 
 128 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 giving a detailed account of his proceedings since last 
 they had met. 
 
 ' I went down to see my uncle,' he said, ' the day 
 before yesterday. He is at Lyvedon, and I had a 
 good look at the old house. Eeally it is the dearest 
 old place in the world, Geraldine, and I should like 
 above all things to live there by and by when the 
 estate is ours. I don't think we are likely to wait 
 very long. The poor old man is awfully shaky. He 
 was very good to me, dear old boy, and asked all 
 manner of kind questions about you. I think I have 
 quite won his heart by my engagement ; he regards 
 it as a pledge of my reform.' 
 
 ' I am glad he is pleased,' replied Lady Geraldine, 
 in a tone that was just a shade more gracious than 
 that in which she had spoken of Clarissa. 
 
 The summons to the carriages came almost im- 
 mediately. Mr. Fairfax conducted his betrothed to 
 her seat in the barouche, and then mounted his horse 
 to ride back to the Castle beside her. He rode by 
 the side of the carriage all the way, indifferent to 
 dust ; but there was not much talk between the lovers 
 during that homeward progress, and Clarissa fancied 
 there was a cloud upon Mr. Fairfax's countenance.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 
 
 Life was very pleasant at Hale Castle. About that 
 one point there could be no shadow of doubt. Clarissa 
 wondered at the brightness of her new existence ; 
 began to wonder vaguely by and by what it was that 
 made it seem brighter every day. There was the 
 usual round of amusements — dinner-parties, amateur 
 concerts, races, flower - shows, excursions to every 
 point of interest within a day's drive, a military ball 
 at the garrison-town twenty miles off, perennial cro- 
 quet, and gossip, and afternoon tea-drinking in ar- 
 bours or marquees in the gardens, and unlimited 
 flirtation. It was impossible for the most exacting- 
 visitor to be dull. There was always something. 
 
 And to Clarissa all these things possessed the 
 charm of freshness. She was puzzled beyond mea- 
 sure by the indifference, real or simulated, of the 
 girls who had seen half-a-dozen London seasons ; the 
 
 VOL. i. k
 
 130 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 frequent declarations that these delights only bored 
 them, that this or that party was a failure. George 
 Fairfax watched her bright face sometimes, interested 
 in spite of himself by her freshness. 
 
 'What a delicious thing youth is!' he said to 
 himself. ' Even if that girl were less completely 
 lovely than she is, she would still be most charming. 
 If Geraldine were only like that — only fresh and 
 candid and pure, and susceptible to every new emo- 
 tion ! But there is an impassable gulf of ten years 
 between them. Geraldine is quite as handsome — in 
 her own particular style — and she talks much better 
 than Clarissa Lovel, and is more clever, no doubt; 
 and yet there are some men who would be bewitched 
 by that girl before they knew where they were.' 
 
 Very often after this Mr. Fairfax fell a-musing 
 upon those apocryphal men who might be subjugated 
 by the charms of Miss Lovel. 
 
 When did he awaken to the fatal truth that those 
 charms were exercising a most potent influence upon 
 his own mind ? When did he open his eyes for the 
 first time to behold his danger ? 
 
 Not yet. He was really attached to Geraldine 
 Challoner. Her society had been a kind of habit with 
 him for several years of his life. She had been more
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 131 
 
 admired than any woman lie knew, and it was, in 
 some sort, a triumph to have won her. That he 
 never would have won her hut for his brother's death 
 he knew very well, and accepted the fact as a matter 
 of course ; a mere necessity of the world in which 
 they lived, not as evidence of a mercenary spirit in 
 the lady. He knew that no woman could better dis- 
 charge the duties of an elevated station, or win him 
 more social renown. To marry Geraldine Challoner 
 was to secure for his house the stamp of fashion, for 
 every detail of his domestic life a warrant of good 
 taste. She had a kind of power over him too, an 
 influence begun long ago, which had never yet been 
 oppressive to him. And he took these things for 
 love. He had been in love with other women during 
 his long alliance with Lady Geraldine, and had shown 
 more ardour in the pursuit of other flames than he 
 had ever evinced in his courtship of her ; but these 
 more passionate attachments had come, for the most 
 part, to a sorry end ; and now he told himself that 
 Geraldine suited him better than any other woman 
 in the world. 
 
 ' I have outgrown all foolish notions,' he said to 
 himself, believing that the capacity was dead within 
 him for that blind unreasoning passion which poets
 
 132 THE LOYELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 of the Byronic school have made of love. ' What I 
 want is a wife ; a wife of my own rank, or a little 
 above me in rank ; a wife who will be true and loyal 
 to me, who knows the world well enough to forgive 
 my antecedents, and to be utterly silent about them, 
 and who will help me to make a position for myself 
 in the future. A man must be something in this 
 world. It is a hard thing that one cannot live one's 
 own life ; but it seems inevitable somehow.' 
 
 His mother had helped not a little to the bring- 
 ing about of this engagement. She knew that her 
 son's bachelor life had been at best a wild one ; not 
 so bad as it was supposed to be, of course, since no- 
 thing in this world ever is so bad as the rest of the 
 world supposes it ; and she was very anxious to see 
 him safely moored in the sheltered harbour of matri- 
 mony. She was a proud woman, and she was pleased 
 that her son should have an earl's daughter for his 
 wife ; and beyond this there was the fact that she 
 liked Lady Geraldine. The girl who had been too 
 proud to let the man she loved divine the depth of 
 her feeling, had not been too proud to exhibit her 
 fondness for his mother. There had grown up a 
 warm friendship between these two women; and Mrs. 
 Fairfax's influence had done much, almost unknown
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 133 
 
 to her son, to bring about this result of his chronic 
 flirtation with Geraldine Challoner. 
 
 Just at present he was very well satisfied with the 
 fact of his engagement, believing that he had taken 
 the best possible means for securing his future hap- 
 piness; an equable, quiet sort of happiness, of course 
 — he was nearly thirty, and had outlived the possi- 
 bility of anything more than that. It would have 
 bored him to suppose that Geraldine expected more 
 from him than this tranquil kind of worship. Per- 
 haps the lady understood this, and schooled herself 
 to a colder tone than was even natural to her, rather 
 than be supposed for one moment to be the more 
 deeply attached of the two. 
 
 Thus it happened that Mr. Fairfax was not se- 
 verely taxed in his capacity of plighted lover. How- 
 ever exacting Lady Geraldine may have been by 
 nature, she was too proud to demand more exclusive 
 attention than her betrothed spontaneously rendered ; 
 indeed, she took pains to let him perceive that he 
 was still in full enjoyment of all his old bachelor 
 liberty. So the days drifted by very pleasantly, and 
 George Fairfax found himself in Clarissa LoveFs so- 
 ciety perhaps a little oftener than was well for either 
 of those two.
 
 134 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 He was very kind to her ; lie seemed to under- 
 stand her better than other people, she thought ; and 
 his companionship was more to her than that of any 
 one else — a most delightful relief after Captain West- 
 leigh's incessant frivolity, or Mr. Halkin's solemn 
 small-talk. In comparison with these men, he ap- 
 peared to such wonderful advantage. Her nature 
 expanded in his society, and she could talk to him as 
 she talked to no one else. 
 
 He used to wonder at her eloquence sometimes, 
 as the beautiful face glowed, and the dark hazel 
 eyes brightened ; he wondered not a little also at 
 the extent of her reading, which had been wide and 
 varied during that quiet winter and spring-time at 
 Mill Cottage. 
 
 'What a learned lady you are !' he said, smiling 
 at her enthusiasm one day, when they had been talk- 
 ing of Italy and Dante ; ' your close knowledge of the 
 poet puts my poor smattering to shame. Happily, 
 an idler and a worldling like myself is not supposed 
 to know much. I was never patient enough to be a 
 profound reader ; and if I cannot tear the heart out 
 of a book, I am apt to throw it aside in disgust. But 
 you must have read a great deal; and yet when we 
 met, less than a year ago, you confessed to being only
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 135 
 
 a schoolgirl fresh from grinding away at Corneille 
 and Racine.' 
 
 ' I have had the advantage of papa's help since 
 then,' answered Clarissa, 'and he is very clever. 
 He does not read many authors, hut those he does 
 care for he reads with all his heart. He taught me 
 to appreciate Dante, and to make myself familiar 
 with the history of his age, in order to understand 
 him better.' 
 
 ' Very wise of him, no doubt. And that kind of 
 studious life with your papa is very pleasant to you, 
 I suppose, Miss Lovel ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' she answered thoughtfully ; ' I have been 
 quite happy with papa. Some people might fancy 
 the life dull perhaps, but it has scarcely seemed so to 
 me. Of course it is very different from life here; 
 but I suppose one would get tired of such a perpetual 
 round of pleasure as Lady Laura provides for us.' 
 
 ' I should imagine so. Life in a country-house 
 full of delightful people must be quite intolerable be- 
 yond a certain limit. One so soon gets tired of one's 
 best friends. I think that is why people travel so 
 much nowadays. It is the only polite excuse for 
 being alone.' 
 
 The time came when Clarissa began to fancy that
 
 136 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 her visit had lasted long enough, and that, in common 
 decency, she was bound to depart ; but on suggesting 
 as much to Lady Laura, that kindly hostess declared 
 she could not possibly do without her dearest Clarissa 
 for ever so long. 
 
 ' Indeed, I don't know how I shall ever get on 
 without you, my dear,' she said; 'we suit each other 
 so admirably, you see. Why, I shall have no one to 
 read Tasso with — no one to help me with my Missal 
 when you are gone.' 
 
 Miss Lovel's familiar knowledge of Italian litera- 
 ture, and artistic tastes, had been altogether delight- 
 ful to Lady Laura ; who was always trying to im- 
 prove herself, as she called it, and travelled from one 
 pursuit to another, with a laudable perseverance, but 
 an unhappy facility for forgetting one accomplishment 
 in the cultivation of another. Thus by a vigorous 
 plunge into Spanish and Calderon this year, she was 
 apt to obliterate the profound impression created by 
 Dante and Tasso last year. Her music suffered by 
 reason of a sudden ardour for illumination ; or art 
 went to the wall because a London musical season 
 and an enthusiastic admiration of Halle had inspired 
 her with a desire to cultivate a more classic style of 
 pianoforte-playing. So in her English reading, each
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 137 
 
 new book blotted out its predecessor. Travels, his- 
 tories, essays, biographies, flitted across the lady's 
 brain like the coloured shadows of a magic-lantern, 
 leaving only a lingering patch of picture here and 
 there. To be versatile was Lady Laura's greatest 
 pride, and courteous friends had gratified her by 
 treating her as an authority upon all possible sub- 
 jects. Nothing delighted her so much as to be ap- 
 pealed to with a preliminary ' Xow you who read so 
 much, Lady Laura, will understand this;' or, ' Dear 
 Lady Laura, you who know everything, must tell me 
 why,' &c. ; or to be told by a painter, ' You who are 
 an artist yourself can of course see this, Lady Laura ;' 
 or to be complimented by a musician as a soul above 
 the dull mass of mankind, a sympathetic spirit, to 
 whom the mysteries of harmony are a familiar lan- 
 guage. 
 
 In that luxurious morning-room of Lady Laura's 
 Clarissa generally spent the first two hours after 
 breakfast. Here the children used to come with 
 French and German governesses, in all the freshness 
 of newly-starched cambric and newly-crimped tresses, 
 to report progress as to their studies and general be- 
 haviour to their mother ; who was apt to get tired of 
 them in something less than a quarter of an hour,
 
 138 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 and to dispatch them with kisses and praises to the 
 distant schoolrooms and nurseries where these young 
 exotics were enjoying the last improvements in the 
 forcing system. 
 
 Geraldine Challoner would sometimes drop into 
 this room for a few minutes at the time of the chil- 
 dren's visit, and would converse not unkindly with 
 her nephews and nieces ; hut for her sister's accom- 
 plishments she displayed a profound indifference, not 
 to say contempt. She was not herself given to the 
 cultivation of these polite arts — nothing could ever 
 induce her to play or sing in public. She read a good 
 deal, but rarely talked about books — it was difficult 
 indeed to say what Lady Geraldine did talk about — 
 yet in the art of conversation, when she chose to 
 please, Geraldine Challoner infinitely surpassed the 
 majority of women in her circle. Perhaps this may 
 have been partly because she was a good listener; 
 and, in some measure., on account of that cynical, 
 mocking spirit in which she regarded most things, 
 and which was apt to pass for wit. 
 
 Clarissa had been a month at Hale Castle already ; 
 but she stayed on at the urgent desire of her hostess, 
 much too happy in that gay social life to oppose that 
 lady's will.
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 139 
 
 ' If you really, really wish to have me, dear Lady 
 Laura,' she said ; ' but you have been so kind already, 
 and I have stayed so long, that I begin to feel myself 
 quite an intruder.' 
 
 ' You silly child ! I do really, really wish to have 
 you. I should like to keep you with me always, if I 
 could. You suit me so much better than any of my 
 sisters ; they are the most provoking girls in the 
 world, I think, for being uninterested in my pursuits. 
 And your Italian is something wonderful. I have 
 not opened my dictionary since we have been reading- 
 together. And beyond all that, I have a very parti- 
 cular reason for wishing you to be here next month.' 
 
 ' Why next month, Lady Laura ?' 
 
 1 1 am not going to tell you that.' 
 
 ' But you quite mystify me.' 
 
 1 1 mean to mystify you. No, it's not the least 
 use asking questions, Clary; but mind, you must 
 not tease me any more about running away : that is 
 understood.' 
 
 In all this time Clarissa had not found herself 
 any nearer to that desired result of getting on well 
 with Geraldine Challoner. That lady seemed quite 
 as far away from her after a month's acquaintance as 
 she had seemed at the very first. It was not that
 
 140 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Lady Geraldine was uncivil. She was polite, after 
 lier manner, to Clarissa, but never cordial ; and yet 
 she could not fail to see that George Fairfax admired 
 and liked Miss Lovel, and she might have been sup- 
 posed to wish to think well of any one he liked. 
 
 Was she jealous of Clarissa ? Well, no, it scarcely 
 seemed possible to associate the fever of jealousy with 
 that serene temperament. She had an air of com- 
 plete security in all her intercourse with George Fair- 
 fax, which was hardly compatible with doubt or the 
 faintest shadow of suspicion. 
 
 If ever she did speak of Miss Lovel to her lover, 
 or to any one else, she talked of her as a pretty 
 country girl, and seemed to consider her as far re- 
 moved, by reason of her youth and obscure position, 
 from herself, as if they had been inhabitants of two 
 separate worlds. 
 
 Mr. Lovel had been invited to several dinner-par- 
 ties at the Castle during his daughter's visit, but was 
 not to be drawn from his seclusion. He had no ob- 
 jection, however, that Clarissa should stay as long as 
 Lady Laura cared to retain her, and wrote very cor- 
 dially to that effect. 
 
 What a pleasant, idle, purposeless life it was, and 
 how rapidly it drifted by for Clarissa ! She wondered
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 141 
 
 to find herself so happy ; wondered what the charm 
 was which made life so new and sweet, which made 
 her open her eves on the morning sunshine with such 
 a glad eagerness to greet the beginning of another 
 day, and filled up every hour with such a perfect 
 sense of contentment. 
 
 She wondered at this happiness only in a vague 
 dreamy way, not taking much trouble to analyse her 
 feelings. It was scarcely strange that she should be 
 completely happy in a life so different from her dull 
 existence at home. The freshness and beauty of all 
 these pleasant things would be worn off in time, no 
 doubt, and she would become just like those other 
 young women, with their experience of many seasons, 
 and their perpetual complaint of being bored ; but 
 just now, while the freshness lasted, everything de- 
 lighted her. 
 
 Clarissa had been more than six weeks at the 
 Castle, while other visitors had come and gone, and 
 the round of country-house gaieties had been un- 
 broken. TheFermors still lingered on, and languidly 
 deprecated the length of their visit, without any hint 
 of actual departure. Captain Westleigh had gone 
 back to his military duties, very much in love with 
 Miss Lovel. He plaintively protested, in his confid-
 
 142 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ences with a few chosen friends, against a Providence 
 which had made them both penniless. 
 
 'I don't suppose I shall ever meet such a girl 
 again,' he would declare piteously. ' More than once 
 I was on the point of making her an offer ; the words 
 were almost out, you know; for I don't go in for 
 making a solemn business of the thing, with a lot of 
 preliminary palaver. If a fellow really likes a girl, he 
 doesn't want to preach a sermon in order to let her 
 know it ; and ever so many times, when we've been 
 playing croquet, or when I've been hanging about the 
 piano with her of an evening, I've been on the point 
 of saying, " Upon my word, Miss Lovel, I think we 
 two are eminently suited to each other, don't you ?" 
 or something plain and straightforward of that kind ; 
 and then I've remembered that her father can't give 
 her a sixpence, which, taken in conjunction with my 
 own financial condition, would mean starvation !' 
 
 ' And do you think she liked you ?' a curious 
 friend would perhaps inquire. 
 
 1 Well, I don't know. She might do worse, 
 you see. As a rule, girls generally do like me. I 
 don't see why there should be any difference in her 
 case.' 
 
 Nor did the Captain for a moment imagine that
 
 DANGEROUS GROUND. 143 
 
 Clarissa would have rejected linn, had lie been in a 
 position to make an offer of his hand. 
 
 Lady Geraldine was a fixture at Hale. She was 
 to stay there till her marriage, with the exception, 
 perhaps, of a brief excursion to London for millinery 
 purposes, Lady Laura told Clarissa. But the date of 
 the marriage had not yet been settled — had been, in- 
 deed, only discussed in the vaguest manner, and the 
 event seemed still remote. 
 
 ' It will be some time this year, I suppose,' Lady 
 Laura said ; ' but beyond that I can really say no- 
 thing. Geraldine is so capricious ; and perhaps 
 George Fairfax may not be in a great hurry to give 
 up his bachelor privileges. He is very different from 
 Fred, who worried me into marrying him six weeks 
 after he proposed. And in this case a long engage- 
 ment seems so absurd, when you consider that they 
 have known each other for ten years. I shall really be 
 very glad when the business is over, for I never feel 
 quite sure of Geraldine.'
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 
 
 With the beginning of August there came a change 
 in the weather. High winds, gloom, and rain suc- 
 ceeded that brilliant cloudless summer-time, which 
 had become, as it were, the normal condition of the 
 universe ; and Lady Laura's guests were fain to 
 abandon their picnics and forest excursions, their 
 botanical researches and distant race-meetings — nay, 
 even croquet itself, that perennial source of recrea- 
 tion for the youthful mind, had to be given up, 
 except in the most fitful snatches. In this state of 
 things, amateur concerts and acted charades came 
 into fashion. The billiard-room was crowded from 
 breakfast till dinner-time. It was a charmingly 
 composite apartment — having one long wall lined 
 with book - shelves, sacred to the most frivolous 
 ephemeral literature, and a grand piano in an arched
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 145 
 
 recess at one end of the room — and in wet weather 
 was the chosen resort of every socially-disposed guest 
 at Hale. Here Clarissa, learned to elevate her pretty 
 little hand into the approved form of bridge, and 
 acquired some acquaintance with the mysteries of 
 cannons and pockets. It was Mr. Fairfax who taught 
 her billiards. Lady Geraldine dropped into the 
 room now and then, and played a game in a dashing 
 off-hand way with her lover, amidst the admiring 
 comments of her friends ; but she did not come 
 very often, and Mr. Fairfax had plenty of time for 
 Clarissa's instruction. 
 
 Upon one of these wet days he insisted upon 
 looking over her portfolio of drawings ; and in going 
 through a heap of careless sketches they came upon 
 something of her brother Austin's. They were sit- 
 ting in the library, — a very solemn and splendid 
 chamber, with a carved oak roof and deep mullioned 
 windows, a room that was less used than any other 
 apartment in the Castle. Mr. Fairfax had caught 
 Miss Lovel here, with her portfolio open on the table 
 before her, copying a drawing of Piranesi's ; so there 
 could be no better opportunity for inspecting the 
 sketches, which she had hitherto refused to show 
 him. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 That sketch of Austin's — a group of Arab horse- 
 men done in pen and ink — set them talking about 
 him at once ; and George Fairfax told Clarissa all 
 he could tell her about his intercourse with her 
 brother. 
 
 ' I really liked him so much,' he said gently, 
 seeing how deeply she was moved by the slightest 
 mention of that name. ' I cannot say that I ever 
 knew him intimately, that I can claim to have been 
 his friend; but I used at one time to see a good 
 deal of him, and I was very much impressed by his 
 genius. I never met a young man who gave me a 
 stronger notion of undisciplined genius ; but, un- 
 happily, there was a recklessness about him which I 
 can easily imagine would lead him into dangerous 
 associations. I was told that he had quarrelled with 
 his family, and meant to sell out, and take to paint- 
 ing as a profession, — and I really believe that he 
 would have made his fortune as a painter ; but when 
 I heard of him next, he had gone abroad — to the 
 colonies, some one said. I could never learn any- 
 thing more precise than that.' 
 
 ' I would give the world to know where he is,' 
 said Clarissa mournfully ; ' but I dare not ask papa 
 anything about him, even if he could tell me, which
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 147 
 
 I doubt very much. I did try to speak of him 
 once ; but it was no use — papa would not hear his 
 name.' 
 
 ' That seems very hard ; and yet your father 
 must have been proud of him and fond of him once, 
 I should think.' 
 
 ' I am not sure of that. Papa and Austin never 
 seemed to get on quite well together. There was 
 always something — as if there had been some kind 
 of hidden resentment, some painful feeling in the 
 mind of each. I was too young to be a competent 
 judge, of course ; but I know, as a child, I had 
 always a sense that there was a cloud between those 
 two, a shadow that seemed to darken our lives.' 
 
 They talked for a long time of this prodigal son ; 
 and this kind of conversation seemed to bring them 
 nearer to each other than anything else that had 
 happened within the six weeks of their acquaintance. 
 
 ' If ever I have any opportunity of finding out 
 your brother's whereabouts, Miss Lovel, you may 
 be sure that I will use every effort to get you some 
 tidings of him. I don't want to say anything that 
 might lead to your being disappointed ; but when I 
 go to town again, I will hunt up a man who used 
 to be one of his friends, and try to learn something.
 
 148 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Only you must promise me not to be disappointed 
 if I fail.' 
 
 ' I won't promise that ; but I promise to bear 
 my disappointment quietly, and to be grateful to you 
 for your goodness, ' Clarissa answered, with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 They went on with the inspection of the draw- 
 ings, in which Mr. Fairfax showed himself deeply 
 interested. His own manipulative powers were of 
 the smallest, but he was an excellent critic. 
 
 ' I think I may say of you what I said of your 
 brother just now — that you might make a fortune, 
 if you were to cultivate art seriously.' 
 
 ' I wish I could make a fortune large enough to 
 buy back Arden Court,' Clarissa answered eagerly. 
 
 1 You think so much of Arden ?' 
 
 c yes, I am always thinking of it, always dream- 
 ing of it ; the dear old rooms haunt me sleeping 
 and waking. I suppose they are all altered now. 
 I think it would almost break my heart to see them 
 different.' 
 
 1 Do you know, I am scarcely in a position to 
 understand that fervent love for one's birthplace. 
 I may be said to have no birthplace myself. I was 
 born in lodgings, or a furnished house — some tern-
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 149 
 
 porary ark of that kind — the next thing to being- 
 born on board ship, and having Stepney for one's 
 parish. My father was in a hard-working cavalry 
 regiment, and the early days of my mother's married 
 life were spent in perpetual wanderings. They sepa- 
 rated, when I was about eight years old, for ever — 
 a sad story, of course — something worse than in- 
 compatibility of temper on the husband's side ; and 
 from that time I never saw him, though he lived for 
 some years. So, you see, the words " home" and 
 " father" are for me very little more than senti- 
 mental abstractions. But with my mother I have 
 been quite happy. She has indeed been the most 
 devoted of women. She took a house at Eton when 
 my brother and I were at school there, and super- 
 intended our home studies herself; and from that 
 time to this she has watched my career with un- 
 changing care. It is the old story of maternal kind- 
 ness and ^filial shortcomings. I have given her a 
 world of trouble ; but I am not the less fond of her, 
 or the less grateful to her.' He stopped for a few 
 moments, with something like a sigh, and then went 
 on in a lighter tone : ' You can see, however, that, 
 having no ancestral home of my own, I am hardly 
 able to understand the depth of your feeling for
 
 150 THE LOVELS OP AKDEN. 
 
 Arden Court. There is an old place down in Kent, 
 a fine old castellated mansion, built in the days of 
 Edward VI., which is to be mine by and by ; but I 
 doubt if I shall ever value it as you do your old 
 home. Perhaps I am wanting in the poetic feeling 
 necessary for the appreciation of these things.' 
 
 6 no, it is not that,' Clarissa answered eagerly ; 
 ' but the house you speak of will not have been your 
 home. You won't have that dim, dreamy recollection 
 of childhood spent in the old rooms ; another life, 
 the life of another being almost, it seems, as one 
 looks back to it. I have only the faintest memory 
 of my mother; but it is very sweet, and it is all 
 associated with Arden Court. I cannot conjure up 
 her image for a moment without that background. 
 Yes, I do wish for fortune, for that one reason. I 
 would give the world to win back Arden.' 
 
 She was very much in earnest. Her cheeks 
 flushed and her eyes brightened with those eager 
 words. Never perhaps had she looked lovelier than 
 at that moment. George Fairfax paused a little be- 
 fore he answered her, admiring the bright animated 
 face ; admiring her, he thought, very much as he 
 might have admired some beautiful wayward child. 
 And then he said gravely :
 
 SMOULDERING FIEES. 151 
 
 ' It is dangerous to wish for anything so in- 
 tensely. There are wishes the gratification whereof 
 is fatal. There are a dozen old stories in the classics 
 to show that ; to say nothing of all those medieval 
 legends in which Satan is complaisant to some eager 
 wisher.' 
 
 ' But there is no chance of my wish being grati- 
 fied. If I could work my fingers to the bone in the 
 pursuit of art or literature, or any of the professions 
 by which women win money, I should never earn the 
 price of Arden ; nor would that hateful Mr. Granger 
 be disposed to sell a place which gives him his posi- 
 tion in the county. And 1 suppose he is fond of 
 it, after a fashion. He has spent a fortune upon 
 improvements. Improvements !' repeated Clarissa 
 contemptuously ; * I daresay he has improved away 
 the very spirit of the place.' 
 
 ' You cherish a strong dislike for this gentleman, 
 it seems, Miss Lovel.' 
 
 ' I am wicked enough to dislike him for having 
 robbed us of Arden. Of course you will say, that 
 any one else might have bought the place. But then 
 I can only reply, that I should have disliked any 
 other purchaser just the same ; a little less though, 
 perhaps, if he had been a member of some noble old
 
 152 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 family — a man with a great name. It would have 
 been some consolation to think that Arden was pro- 
 moted.' 
 
 ' I am afraid there is a leaven of good old Tory 
 spirit in your composition, Miss Lovel.' 
 
 ' I suppose papa is a Tory. I know he has a 
 profound contempt for what he calls new people — 
 very foolish, of course, I quite feel that ; but I think 
 he cannot help remembering that he comes of a good 
 old race which has fallen upon evil days.' 
 
 ' You remember my telling you that I had been 
 to Arden Court. Mr. Granger gave a state dinner 
 once while I was staying here, and I went with Fred 
 and Lady Laura. I found him not by any means 
 a disagreeable person. He is just a little slow and 
 ponderous, and I should scarcely give him credit for 
 a profound or brilliant intellect ; but he is certainly 
 sensible, well-informed, and he gave me the idea of 
 being the very essence of truth.' 
 
 ' I daresay he is very nice,' Clarissa answered 
 with a subdued sigh. ' He has always been kind 
 and attentive to papa, sending game and hothouse 
 fruit, and that kind of thing; and he has begged 
 that we would use the park as if it were our own ; 
 but I have never crossed the boundary that divides
 
 SMOULDERING FIEES. 153 
 
 my new home from my old one. I couldn't bear to 
 see the old walks now.' 
 
 They talked for a good deal longer, till the clang- 
 ing of the Castle bell warned Clarissa that it was 
 time to dress for dinner. It is amazing how rapidly 
 time will pass in such serious confidential talk. 
 George Fairfax looked at his watch with an air of 
 disbelief in that supreme authority the Castle bell, 
 which was renowned for its exact observance of 
 Greenwich time. That blusterous rainy August 
 afternoon had slipped away so quickly. 
 
 1 It is a repetition of my experience during that 
 night journey to Holborough,' Mr. Fairfax said, 
 smiling. ' You have a knack of charming away the 
 hours, Miss Lovel.' 
 
 It was the commonest, most conventional form 
 of compliment, no doubt ; but Clarissa blushed a 
 little, and bent rather lower over the portfolio, which 
 she was closing, than she had done before. Then 
 she put the portfolio under her arm, murmured 
 something about going to dress, made George Fair- 
 fax a gracious curtsey, and left him. 
 
 He did not hurry away to make his own toilet, 
 but walked up and down the library for some mi- 
 nutes, thinking.
 
 154 THE L0VELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' What a sweet girl she is !' he said to himself, 
 ' and what a pity her position is not a better one ! 
 With a father like that, and a brother who has 
 stamped himself as a scapegrace at the beginning 
 of life, what is to become of her ? Unless she mar- 
 ries well, I see no hopeful prospect for her future. 
 But of course such a girl as that is sure to make a 
 good marriage.' 
 
 Instead of beiug cheered by this view of the 
 case, Mr. Fairfax's brow grew darker, and his step 
 heavier. 
 
 ' What does it matter to me whom she chooses 
 for her husband ?' he asked himself ; ' and yet no 
 man would like to see such a girl throw herself away 
 for mercenary reasons. If I had known her a few 
 months ago ! If ! What is the history of human 
 error but a succession of "ifs"? Would it have 
 been better for me or for her, that w r e had learned 
 to know each other while I was free ? The happiest 
 thing for me would have been never to have met 
 her at all. I felt myself in some kind of danger that 
 night we met in the railway-carriage. Her race is 
 fatal to mine, I begin to think. Any connection in 
 that quarter would have galled my mother to the 
 quick — broken her heart perhaps ; and I am bound
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 155 
 
 to consider her in all I do. Nor am I a schoolboy, 
 to fancy that the whole colour of my life is to be 
 governed by such an influence as this. She is only 
 a pretty woman, with a low sweet voice, and gentle 
 winning ways. Most people would call Geraldine 
 the handsomer of the two. Poor child ! She ought 
 to seem no more than a child to me. I think she 
 likes me, and trusts me. I wish Geraldine were 
 kinder to her ; I wish — ' 
 
 He did not particularise that last wish even to 
 himself, but went away to dress, having wasted the 
 first quarter of the three-quarters that elapsed be- 
 tween the first and second bell at Hale Castle. 
 
 Throughout that evening, which was an unusu- 
 ally quiet and domestic evening for Hale, he did not 
 talk any more to Clarissa. It might even have been 
 thought that he scrupulously, and of a fixed purpose, 
 avoided her. He devoted himself to chess with Lady 
 Geraldine ; a game he played indifferently, and for 
 which he cherished a profound aversion. But chess 
 was one of Geraldine Challoner's strong points ; and 
 that aristocratic beauty never looked more regal 
 than when she sat before a chess-table, with one 
 thin white hand hovering gently above the carved 
 ivory pieces.
 
 156 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Mr. Fairfax lost four or five games in succession, 
 excusing his own careless play every time by some 
 dextrous compliment to his betrothed. More than 
 once he stifled a yawn — more than once his glances 
 wandered away to the group near the piano, amidst 
 which Clarissa was seated, listening to Lizzie Fer- 
 mor's brilliant waltzes and mazurkas, with an open 
 music-book on her lap, turning over the leaves now 
 and then, with rather a listless preoccupied air, Mr. 
 Fairfax thought. 
 
 That evening did certainly seem very dreary to 
 Clarissa, in spite of Miss Fermor's dashing music 
 and animated chatter. She missed that other talk, 
 half playful, half earnest, with which George Fairfax 
 had been wont to beguile some part of every even- 
 ing; finding her out, as if by a subtle instinct, in 
 whatever corner of the room she happened to be, 
 and always devoting one stray half-hour of the even- 
 ing to her society. To-night all things came to an 
 end : matrons and misses murmured their good- 
 nights and sailed away to the corridor, where there 
 was a regiment of small silver candlesticks, embla- 
 zoned with the numerous quarterings of Armstrong 
 and Challoner ; and George Fairfax only rose from 
 the chess-table as Lady Laura's guests abandoned
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 157 
 
 the drawing-rooni. Geraldine bade her lover good- 
 night with her most bewitching smile — a smile in 
 which there was even some faint ray of warmth. 
 
 ' You have given me some very easy victories,' 
 she said, as they shook hands, ' and I won't flatter 
 you by saying you have played well. But it was very 
 good of you to sit so long at a game which I know 
 you detest, only to please me.' 
 
 1 Avery small sacrifice, surely, my dear Geraldine. 
 "We'll play chess every night, if you like. I don't 
 care much for the game in the abstract, I admit ; 
 but I am never tired of admiring your judicious 
 play, or the exquisite shape of your hands.' 
 
 ' Xo, no ; I don't want to try you with such 
 severe training. I saw how tired you were more 
 than once to-night, and how your eyes wandered 
 away to those noisy girls by the piano, like an idle 
 boy who is kept at his lessons when his companions 
 are at play.' 
 
 Mr. Fairfax's sunburnt countenance reddened a 
 little at this reproof. 
 
 ' Was I inattentive ?' he asked ; * I did not know 
 that. I was quite aware of my bad play, and I really 
 believe I was conscientious.' 
 
 And so they wished each other good-night and
 
 158 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 parted. Geraldine Challoner did not go at once to 
 her own room. She had to pass her sister's quarters 
 on her way, and stopped at the door of the dressing- 
 room. 
 
 1 Are you quite alone, Laura ?' she asked, look- 
 ing in. 
 
 ' Quite alone.' 
 
 A maid was husy unweaving a splendid pyramid 
 of chestnut plaits which had crowned the head of her 
 mistress ; hut she of course counted for nothing, 
 and could he dismissed at any moment. 
 
 ' And there will not he half-a-dozen people com- 
 ing in to gossip ?' Lady Geraldine asked in rather 
 a fretful tone, as she flung herself into an arm-chair 
 near the dressing-tahle. 
 
 ' Not a soul ; I have wished every one good-night. 
 I was rather tired, to tell the truth, and not inclined 
 for talk. But of course I am always glad of a chat 
 with you, Geraldine. — You may go, Parker; I can 
 finish my hair myself.' 
 
 The maid retired, as quietly as some attendant 
 spirit. 
 
 Lady Laura took up a hig ivory brush and began 
 smoothing the long chestnut locks in a meditative 
 way, waiting for her sister to speak. But Lady
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 159 
 
 Geraldine seemed scarcely in the mood for lively 
 conversation; her fingers were twisting themselves 
 in and out upon the arm of her chair in a nervous 
 way, and her face had a thoughtful, not to say 
 moody, expression. 
 
 Her sister watched her for some minutes silently. 
 
 1 What is the matter, Geraldine ?' she inquired 
 at last. ' I can see there is something wrong.' 
 
 ' There is very much that is wrong,' the other 
 answered with a kind of suppressed vehemence. 
 1 Upon my word, Laura, I believe it is your destiny 
 to stand in my light at every stage of my life, or you 
 would scarcely have happened to have planted that 
 girl here just at this particular time.' 
 
 1 What girl ?' cried Lady Laura, amazed at this 
 sudden accusation. 
 
 ' Clarissa Lovel.' 
 
 1 Good gracious me, Geraldine ! what has my 
 poor Clarissa done to offend you ?' 
 
 ' Your poor Clarissa has only set her cap at 
 George Fairfax; and as she happens to be several 
 years younger than I am, and I suppose a good 
 deal prettier, she has thoroughly succeeded in dis- 
 tracting his attention — his regard, perhaps — from 
 myself.'
 
 160 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Laura Armstrong dropped the hair-brush, in pro- 
 found consternation. 
 
 'My dear Geraldine, this is the merest jealous 
 folly on your part. Clarissa is the very last girl in 
 the world who would be guilty of such meanness as 
 to try and attract another woman's lover. Besides, 
 I am sure that George's attachment to yourself — ' 
 
 ' Pray, don't preach about that, Laura !' her sister 
 broke in impatiently. ' I must be the best judge of 
 his attachment ; and you must be the very blindest 
 of women, if you have not seen how your newest pet 
 and protegee has contrived to lure George to her 
 side night after night, and to interest him by her 
 pretty looks and juvenile airs and graces.' 
 
 ' Why, I don't believe George spoke to Miss 
 Lovel once this evening ; he was playing chess with 
 you from the moment he came to the drawing-room 
 after dinner.' 
 
 ' To-night was an exceptional case. Mr. Fairfax 
 was evidently on duty. His manner all the evening 
 was that of a man who has been consciously culp- 
 able, and is trying to atone for bad behaviour. And 
 your favourite was wounded by his desertion — I 
 could see that.' 
 
 ' She did seem a little depressed, certainly,' Lady
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 161 
 
 Laura answered thoughtfully ; ' I observed that my- 
 self. But I know that the girl has a noble nature, 
 and if she has been so foolish as to be just a little 
 attracted by George Fairfax, she will very quickly 
 awake to a sense of her folly. Pray, don't give your- 
 self the faintest uneasiness, Geraldine. I have my 
 plans for Clarissa Lovel, and this hint of yours will 
 make me more anxious to put them into execution. 
 As for George, it is natural to men to flirt ; there's 
 no use in being angry with them. I'm sure that 
 wretched Fred of mine has flirted desperately, in his 
 way.' 
 
 Lady Geraldine gave her shoulders a contemptu- 
 ous shrug, expressive of a most profound indiffer- 
 ence to the delinquencies of Mr. Armstrong. 
 
 ' Your husband and George Fairfax are two very 
 different people,' she said. 
 
 ' But you don't for a moment suppose there is 
 anything serious in this business '?' Laura asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 1 How can I tell ? I sometimes think that 
 George has never really cared for me ; that he pro- 
 posed to me because he thought his mother would 
 like the marriage, and because our names had often 
 been linked together, and our marriage was in a 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 manner expected by people, and so on. Yes, Laura, 
 I have sometimes doubted if he ever loved me — I 
 hate to talk of these things, even to you ; but there 
 are times when one must confide in some one — and 
 I have been sorely tempted to break off the engage- 
 ment.' 
 
 She rose from her chair, and began to pace up 
 and down the room in a quick impatient way. 
 
 ' Upon my honour, I believe it would be the 
 happiest thing for both of us,' she said. 
 
 Lady Laura looked at her sister with perfect 
 consternation. 
 
 ' My dearest Geraldine, you would surely never 
 be so mad !' she exclaimed. ' You could not be so 
 foolish as to sacrifice the happiness of your future 
 life to a caprice of the moment — a mere outbreak of 
 temper. Pray, let there be an end of such nonsense. 
 I am sure George is sincerely attached to you, and 
 I am very much mistaken in you if you do not like 
 him — love him — better than you can ever hope to 
 love any other man in this world.' 
 
 ' yes ; I like him well enough,' said Geraldine 
 Challoner impatiently ; ' too well to endure anything 
 less than perfect sincerity on his part.' 
 
 ' But, my dearest, I am sure that he is sincere,'
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 163 
 
 Laura answered soothingly. ' Now, my own Ger- 
 aldine, do pray be reasonable, and leave this business 
 to me. As for Clarissa, I have plans for her, the 
 realisation of which would set your mind quite at 
 ease ; but if I cannot put them into execution imme- 
 diately, the girl shall go. Of course you are the 
 first consideration. With regard to George, if you 
 would only let me sound him, I am sure I should 
 get at the real state of his feelings, and find them 
 all we can wish — ' 
 
 * Laura !' cried Geraldine indignantly, e if you 
 dare to interfere, in the smallest degree, with this 
 business, I shall never speak to you again.' 
 
 ' My dear Geraldine !' 
 
 ' Remember that, Laura, and remember that I 
 mean what I say. I will not permit so much as 
 the faintest hint of anything I have told you.' 
 
 ' My dearest girl, I pledge myself not to speak 
 one word,' protested Lady Laura, very much alarmed 
 by her sister's indignation. 
 
 Geraldine left her soon after this, vexed with 
 herself for having betrayed so much feeling, even 
 to a sister ; left her — not to repose in peaceful slum- 
 bers, but to walk up and down her room till early 
 morning, and look out at daybreak on the Castle
 
 164 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 gardens and the purple woods beyond, with a hag- 
 gard face and blank unseeing eyes. 
 
 George Fairfax meanwhile had lain himself down 
 to take his rest in tolerable good-humour with him- 
 self and the world in general. 
 
 ' I really think I behaved very well,' he said to 
 himself ; ' and having made up my mind to stop 
 anything like a flirtation with that perilously fas- 
 cinating Clarissa, I shall stick to my resolve with 
 the heroism of an ancient Eoman ; though the Eo- 
 mans were hardly so heroic in that matter, by the 
 way — witness the havoc made by that fatal Egyptian, 
 a little bit of a woman that could be bundled up in 
 a carpet — to say nothing of the general predilection 
 for somebody else's wife which prevailed in those 
 days, and which makes Suetonius read like a modern 
 French novel. I did not think there was so much 
 of the old leaven left in me. My sweet Clarissa ! 
 I fancy she likes me — in a sisterly kind of way, of 
 course — and trusts me not a little. And yet I must 
 seem cold to her, and hold myself aloof, and wound 
 the tender untried heart a little perhaps. Hard upon 
 both of us, but I suppose only a common element 
 in the initiatory ordinances of matrimony.' 
 
 And so George Fairfax closed his eyes and fell
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 165 
 
 asleep, with the image of Clarissa before hini in that 
 final moment of consciousness, whereby the same 
 image haunted him in his slumbers that night, alter- 
 nately perplexing or delighting him ; while ever and 
 anon the face of his betrothed, pale and statue-like, 
 came between him and that other face ; or the per- 
 fect hand he had admired at chess that night was 
 stretched out through the darkness to push aside 
 the form of Clarissa Lovel. 
 
 That erring dreamer was a man accustomed to 
 take all things lightly ; not a man of high principle 
 — a man whose best original impulses had been 
 weakened and deadened not a little by the fellowship 
 he had kept, and the life he had led ; a man un- 
 happily destined to exercise an influence over others 
 disproportionate to the weight of his own character. 
 
 Lady Laura was much disturbed by her sister's 
 confidence ; and being of a temperament to which 
 the solitary endurance of any mental burden is al- 
 most impossible, immediately set to work to do the 
 very things which would have been most obnoxious 
 to Geraldine Challoner. In the first place she awak- 
 ened her husband from comfortable slumbers, haunted 
 by no more awful forms than his last acquisition
 
 166 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 In horse-flesh, or the oxen he was fattening for the 
 next cattle-show ; and determinedly kept him awake 
 while she gave him a detailed account of the distress- 
 ing scene she had just had with ' poor Geraldine.' 
 
 Mr. Armstrong, whose yawns and vague dis- 
 jointed replies were piteous to hear, thought there 
 was only one person in question who merited the 
 epithet ' poor,' and that person himself; but he 
 made some faint show of being interested, never- 
 theless. 
 
 ' Silly woman, silly woman!' he mumbled at last. 
 ' I've always thought she rides the high horse ra- 
 ther too much with Fairfax. Men don't like that 
 sort of thing, you know. Geraldine's a very fine 
 woman, but she can't twist a man round her fingers 
 as you can, Laura. Why don't you speak to George 
 Fairfax, and hurry on the marriage somehow ? The 
 sooner the business is settled the better, with such 
 a restive couple as these two ; uncommonly hard to 
 drive in double harness — the mare inclined to jib, 
 and the other with a tendency to shy. You're such 
 a manager, Laura, you'd make matters square in no 
 time.' 
 
 If Lady Laura prided herself on one of her attri- 
 butes more than another — and she did cherish a harm-
 
 SMOULDERING FIRES. 167 
 
 less vanity about many things — it was in the idea 
 that she was a kind of social Talleyrand. So on this 
 particular occasion, encouraged by simple Fred Arm- 
 strong, who had a rooted belief that there never had 
 existed upon this earth such a wonderful woman as 
 his wife, my lady resolved to take the affairs of her 
 sister under her protection, and to bring all things 
 to a triumphant issue. She felt very little compunc- 
 tion about breaking her promise to Geraldine. 
 
 * All depends upon the manner in which a thing 
 is done,' she said to herself complacently, as she 
 composed herself for slumber ; ' of course I shall 
 act with the most extreme delicacy. But it would 
 never do for my sister's chances in life to be ruined 
 for want of a little judicious intervention.'
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 
 
 The weather was fine next day, and the Castle party 
 drove ten miles to a rustic race-course, where there 
 was a meeting of a very insignificant character, hut 
 interesting to Mr. Armstrong, to whom a horse 
 was a source of perennial delight, and a fair excuse 
 for a long gay drive, and a picnic luncheon in carri- 
 ages and on coach-hoxes. 
 
 Amongst Lady Laura's accomplishments was the 
 polite art of driving. To - day she elected to drive 
 a high phaeton with a pair of roans, and invited 
 George Fairfax to take the seat heside her. Lady 
 Geraldine had a headache, and had not appeared 
 that morning ; hut had sent a message to her sister, 
 to request that her indisposition, which was the 
 merest trifle, might not prevent Mr. Fairfax going 
 to the races.
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOilATISES. 169 
 
 Mr. Fairfax at first seemed much inclined to 
 remain at home, and perform garrison duty. 
 
 ' Geraldine will come downstairs presently, I 
 daresay/ he said to Lady Laura, ' and we can have 
 a quiet stroll in the gardens, while you are all away. 
 I don't care a straw about the Mickleham races. 
 Please leave me at home, Lady Laura .' 
 
 ' But Geraldine begs that you will go. She'll 
 keep her room all day, I've no doubt ; she generally 
 does, when she has one of her headaches. Every 
 one is going, and I have set my heart on driving 
 you. I want to hear what you think of the roans. 
 Come, George, I really must insist upon it.' 
 
 She led him off to the phaeton triumphantly; 
 while Frederick Armstrong was fain to find some 
 vent for his admiration of his gifted wife's diplom- 
 acy in sundry winks and grins to the address of no 
 one in particular, as he bustled to and fro between 
 the terrace and the hall, arranging the mode and 
 manner of the day's excursion — who was to be driven 
 by whom, and so on. 
 
 Clarissa found herself bestowed in a landau full 
 of ladies, Barbara Fermor amongst them ; and was 
 very merry with these agreeable companions, who 
 gave her no time to meditate upon that change in
 
 170 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 Mr. Fairfax's manner last night, which had troubled 
 her a little in spite of her better sense. He was 
 nothing to her of course ; an accidental acquaintance 
 whom she might never see again after this visit ; 
 but he had known her brother, and he had been 
 kind and sympathetic — so much so, that she would 
 have been glad to think that he was really her friend. 
 Perhaps, after all, there was very little cause that 
 she should be perplexed or worried on account of 
 his quiet avoidance of her that one evening; but 
 then Clarissa Lovel was young and inexperienced, 
 and thus apt to be hypersensitive, and easily dis- 
 turbed about trifles. 
 
 Having secured a comfortable tete-a-tete with 
 Mr. Fairfax, Lady Laura lost no time in improving 
 the occasion. They were scarcely a mile from the 
 Castle before she began to touch upon the subject 
 of the intended marriage, lightly, and with an airy 
 gaiety of manner which covered her real earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 ' When is it to be, George ?' she asked. ' I really 
 want to know something positive, on account of my 
 own engagements and Fred's, which must all hinge 
 more or less on this important business. There's 
 no use in my talking to Geraldine, for she is really
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 171 
 
 the most impracticable of beings, and I can never 
 get her to say anything definite.' 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, I am almost in the same 
 position. I have more than once tried to induce her 
 to fix the date for her marriage, but she has always 
 put the subject aside somehow or other. I really 
 don't like to bore her, you see; and no doubt things 
 will arrange themselves in due course.' 
 
 Lady Laura gave a little sigh of relief. He did 
 not avoid the question — that was something; nor 
 did her interference seem in any manner unpleasant 
 to him. Indeed, nothing could be more perfect 
 than his air of careless good -humour, Lady Laura 
 thought. 
 
 But she did not mean the subject to drop here ; 
 and after a little graceful manipulation of the reins, 
 a glance backward to see how far behind they had 
 left the rest of the caravan, and some slight slacken- 
 ing of the pace at which they had been going, she 
 went on. 
 
 1 No doubt things would arrange themselves 
 easily enough, if nothing happened to interfere with 
 our plans. But the fact is, my dear George, I am 
 really most uneasy about the state of poor papa's 
 health. He has been so sadly feeble for the last
 
 172 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 three or four years, and I feel that we may lose him 
 at any moment. At his age, poor dear soul, it is 
 a calamity for which we must be prepared. But 
 of course such an event would postpone your mar- 
 riage for a long time, and I should really like to 
 see my sister happily settled before the blow fell 
 upon her. She has been so much with him, you 
 see, and is so deeply attached to him — it will be 
 worse for her than for any of us.' 
 
 'I — I conclude so,' Mr. Fairfax replied rather 
 doubtfully. He could not help wondering a little 
 how his betrothed cared to leave a beloved father in 
 so critical a condition ; but he knew that his future 
 sister-in-law was somewhat given to exaggeration, a 
 high colouring of simple facts, as well as to the 
 friendly direction of other people's affairs. He was 
 therefore not surprised, upon reflection, that she 
 should magnify her father's danger and her sister's 
 filial devotion. Nor was he surprised that she should 
 be anxious to hasten his marriage. It was natural 
 to this impulsive matron to be eager for something, 
 some event involving fine dress and invitations, ela- 
 borate dinners, and the gathering together of a frivo- 
 lous crowd to be astonished and delighted by her 
 own cleverness and fascination. To have a hand-
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 173 
 
 some sister to marry, and to marry well, was of 
 course a great opportunity for the display of all those 
 powers in which Lady Laura took especial pride. 
 
 And then George Fairfax had told himself that 
 this marriage was the "best possible thing for him ; 
 and being so, it would be well that there should be 
 no unnecessary delay. He had perhaps a vague feel- 
 ing that he was giving up a good deal in sacrificing 
 his liberty ; but on the whole the sacrifice was a wise 
 one, and could not be consummated too quickly. 
 
 ' I trust you alarm yourself needlessly about your 
 father, my dear Lady Laura,' he said presently ; ' but 
 upon my word you cannot be more anxious to see 
 this affair settled than I am. I want to spend my 
 honeymoon at Lyvedon, the quietest, most pictur- 
 esque old place you can imagine, but not very enjoy- 
 able when the leaves are falling. My good uncle 
 has set his heart on my borrowing his house for this 
 purpose, and I think it would please Geraldine to 
 become acquainted with an estate which must be her 
 own in a few years.' 
 
 'Unquestionably,' cried Lady Laura eagerly; 'but 
 you know what Geraldine is, or you ought to know — 
 so foolishly proud and sensitive. She has known 
 you so long, and perhaps — she would never forgive
 
 174 THE LOYELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 me if she knew I had hinted such a. thing — had half- 
 unconsciously given you her heart hefore she had 
 reason to he assured of your regard ; and this would 
 make her peculiarly sensitive. Now do, dear George, 
 press the question, and let everything he settled as 
 soon as possible, or I have an apprehension that 
 somehow or other my sister will slip through your 
 fingers.' 
 
 Mr. Fairfax looked wonderingly at his charioteer. 
 
 'Has she said anything to put this fancy into 
 your head?' he asked, with gravity rather than 
 alarm. 
 
 ' Said anything ! dear, no. Geraldine is the 
 last person to talk about her own feelings. But I 
 know her so well,' concluded Lady Laura with a 
 solemn air. 
 
 After this there came a brief silence. George 
 Fairfax was a little puzzled by my lady's diplomacy, 
 and perhaps just a little disgusted. Again and again 
 he told himself that this union with Geraldine Chal- 
 loner was the very best thing that could happen to 
 him ; it would bring him to anchor, at any rate, and 
 he had been such mere driftwood until now. But he 
 wanted to feel himself quite a free agent, and this 
 pressing-on of the marriage by Lady Laura was in
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 175 
 
 some manner discordant with his sense of the fitness 
 of things. It looked a little like manoeuvring; yet 
 after all she was quite sincere, perhaps, and did 
 really apprehend her father's death intervening to 
 postpone the wedding. 
 
 He would not remain long silent, lest she should 
 fancy him displeased, and proceeded presently to pay 
 her some compliments upon the roans, and on her 
 driving ; after which they rattled on pleasantly 
 enough till they came to the green slope of a hill, 
 where there was a rude rustic stand, and a railed 
 race-course with a sprinkling of carriages on one side 
 and gipsy-tents on the other. 
 
 Here Mr. Fairfax delivered over Lady Laura to 
 her natural protector ; and being free to stroll about 
 at his own pleasure, contrived to spend a very agree- 
 able day, devoting the greater part thereof to attend- 
 ance upon the landau full of ladies, amongst whom 
 was Clarissa Lovel. And she, being relieved from 
 that harassing notion that- she had in some un- 
 known manner offended him, and being so new to 
 all the pleasures of life that even these rustic races 
 were delightful to her, was at her brightest, full of 
 gay girlish talk and merry laughter. He was not to 
 see her thus many times again, in all the freshness
 
 176 THE L0VELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 of her young beauty, perfectly natural and unre- 
 strained. 
 
 Once in the course of that day he left his post by 
 the landau, and went for a solitary ramble ; not 
 amongst the tents, where black-eyed Bohemians sa- 
 luted him as ' my pretty gentleman,' or the knock- 
 'em- downs and weighing-machines, or the bucolic 
 babble of the ring, but away across the grassy slope, 
 turning his back upon the race-course. He wanted to 
 think it out again, in his own phrase, just as he had 
 thought it out the day before in the library at Hale. 
 
 'I am afraid I am getting too fond of her,' he 
 said to himself. ' It's the old story : just like dram- 
 drinking. I take the pledge, and then go and drink 
 again. I am the weakest of mankind. But it can- 
 not make very much difference. She knows I am 
 engaged — and — Lady Laura is right. The sooner 
 the marriage comes off, the better. I shall never be 
 safe till the knot is tied ; and then duty, honour, 
 feeling, and a dozen other motives, will hold me to 
 the right course.' 
 
 He strolled back to his party only a little time 
 before the horses were put in, and on this occasion 
 went straight to the phaeton, and devoted himself to 
 Lady Laura.
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 177 
 
 I You are going to drive me home, of course ?' he 
 said. ' I mean to claim my place.' 
 
 I I hardly think you have any right to it, after 
 your desertion of me. You have been flirting with 
 those girls in the landau all day.' 
 
 ' Flirting is one of the melancholy privileges of 
 my condition. An engaged man enjoys an immunity 
 in that matter. When a criminal is condemned to 
 death, they give him whatever he likes to eat, you 
 know. It is almost the same kind of thing.' 
 
 He took his place in the phaeton presently, and 
 talked gaily enough all the way home, in that par- 
 ticular strain required to match my lady's agreeable 
 rattle ; but he had a vague sense of uneasiness lurk- 
 ing somewhere in his mind, a half consciousness that 
 he was drifting the wrong way. 
 
 All that evening he was especially attentive to 
 Lady Geraldine, whose headache had left her with a 
 pale and pensive look which was not without its 
 charm. The stately beauty had a softer air, the 
 brightness of the blue eyes was not so cold as it was 
 wont to be. They played chess again, and Mr. Fair- 
 fax kept aloof from Clarissa. They walked together 
 in the gardens for a couple of hours next morning ; 
 and George Fairfax pressed the question of his mar- 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 178 THE L0VELS OF ABDEN. 
 
 riage with such a show of earnestness and warmth, 
 that Geraldine's rebellious pride was at once solaced 
 and subdued, and she consented to agree to any 
 arrangement he and Lady Laura might make. 
 
 ' My sister is so much more practical than I am,' 
 she said, ' and I would really rather leave everything 
 to her and to you.' 
 
 Lightly as she tried to speak of the future, she 
 did on this occasion allow her lover to perceive that 
 he was indeed very dear to her, and that the coldness 
 which had sometimes wounded him was little more 
 than a veil beneath which a proud woman strove to 
 hide her deepest feelings. Mr. Fairfax rather liked 
 this quality of pride in his future wife, even if it 
 were carried so far as to be almost a blemish. It 
 would be the surest safeguard of his home in the 
 time to come. Such women are not prone to petty 
 faults, or given to small quarrels. A man has a kind 
 of security from trivial annoyances in an alliance with 
 such a one. 
 
 It was all settled, therefore, in that two hours' 
 stroll in the sunny garden, where the roses still 
 bloomed, in some diminution of their midsummer 
 glory, their sweetness just a little overpowered by 
 the spicy odour of innumerable carnations, their deli-
 
 LADY LAURA DIPLOMATISES. 179 
 
 cate colours eclipsed here and there by an imperti- 
 nent early dahlia. Everything was settled. The 
 very date of the wedding was to be decided at once 
 by Lady Laura and the bridegroom; and when George 
 Fairfax went back to the Castle, he felt, perhaps for 
 the first time in his life, that he really was an en- 
 gaged man. It was rather a solemn feeling, but not 
 altogether an unpleasant one. He had seen more of 
 Geraldine Challoner's heart this morning than he 
 had ever seen before. It pleased him to discover 
 that she really loved him ; that the marriage was to 
 be something more to her than a merely advantageous 
 alliance ; that she would in all probability have ac- 
 cepted him had he offered himself to her in his bro- 
 ther's lifetime. Since his thirtieth birthday he had 
 begun to feel himself something of a waif and stray. 
 There had been mistakes in his life, errors he would 
 be very glad to forget in an utterly new existence. 
 It was pleasant to know himself beloved by a proud 
 and virtuous woman, a woman whose love was neither 
 to be easily won nor lightly lost. 
 
 He went back to the Castle more at ease with 
 himself than he had felt for some time. His future 
 was settled, and he had done his duty.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Aftee that interview between Mr. Fairfax and his 
 betrothed, there was no time wasted. Laura Arm- 
 strong was enraptured at being made arbiter of the 
 arrangements, and was all haste and eagerness, im- 
 petuosity and animation. The wedding was ap- 
 pointed for the second week in September, about 
 five weeks from the period of that garden tete-a-tete. 
 Lady Geraldine was to go to town for a week, at- 
 tended only by her maid, to see her father, and to 
 give the necessary orders for her trousseau. The 
 business of settlements would be arranged between 
 the family lawyers. There were no difficulties. Lord 
 Calderwood was not able to settle anything on his 
 daughter, and Mr. Fairfax was inclined to be very 
 generous. There was no prospect of squabbling or 
 unpleasantness.
 
 lady laura's preparations. 181 
 
 George Fairfax was to be away during this brief 
 absence of his betrothed. He had an engagement 
 with an old friend and brother officer who was wont 
 to spend the autumn in a roughly comfortable shoot- 
 ing-box in the north of Scotland, and whom he had 
 promised to visit before his marriage ; as a kind of 
 farewell to bachelorhood and bachelor friendship. 
 There could be no other opportunity for the fulfil- 
 ment of this promise, and it was better that Mr. 
 Fairfax should be away while Lady Geraldine was in 
 London. As the period of his marriage became im- 
 minent, he had a vague feeling that he was an object 
 of general attention ; that every feminine eye, at any 
 rate, was on him ; and that the watch would be all 
 the closer in the absence of his betrothed. No, he 
 did not want to dawdle away a week (off duty) at 
 Hale Castle. Never before had he so yearned for 
 the rough freedom of Major Beaman's shooting-quar- 
 ters, the noisy mirth of those rude Homeric feasts, 
 half dinner, half supper, so welcome after a long 
 day's sport, with a quiet rubber, perhaps, to finish 
 with, and a brew of punch after a recondite recipe 
 of the Major's, which he was facetiously declared to 
 bear tattooed above the region of his heart. Mr. 
 Fairfax had been two months at Hale when Lady
 
 182 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 Geraldine left on that dutiful visit to her father, and 
 necessary interviewing of milliners and dressmakers ; 
 and he was, it is just possible, a little tired of de- 
 corous country-house life, with its weekly dinner- 
 parties and perpetual influx of county families to 
 luncheon, and its unfailing croquet. He felt, too, 
 that at such a time it would be perhaps safer for him 
 to be away from Clarissa Lovel. 
 
 "Was there any real danger for him in her pre- 
 sence ? If he asked himself this question nowa- 
 days, he was able to answer boldly in the negative. 
 There might have been a time of peril, just one 
 perilous interval when he was in some danger of 
 stumbling ; but he had pulled himself up in time, 
 with an admirable discretion, he thought, and now 
 felt as bold as a lion. After that morning with 
 Lady Geraldine in the garden, he had never 
 wavered. He had not been less kind or polite to 
 Miss Lovel ; he had only made a point of avoiding 
 anything like that dangerous confidential friendship 
 which had been so nearly arising between them. 
 
 Of course every guest at the Castle knew all 
 about the intended wedding directly things had been 
 finally arranged. Lady Laura was not given to 
 the keeping of secrets, and this important fact she
 
 lady laura's preparations. 183 
 
 communicated to all her particular friends with a 
 radiant face and a most triumphant manner. The 
 two Fermor girls and Clarissa she invited to re- 
 main at Hale till after the wedding, and to act as 
 bridesmaids. 
 
 'My sisters Emily and Louisa will make two 
 more,' she said; 'and that pretty little Miss 
 Trellis, Admiral Trellis's daughter, will be the 
 sixth — I shall have only six. We'll have a grand 
 discussion about the dresses to-morrow morning. 
 I should like to strike-out something original, if it 
 were possible. We shall see what Madame Albert- 
 ine proposes. I have written to ask her for her 
 ideas ; but a milliner's ideas are so bornces.' 
 
 Lady Laura had obtained permission from her 
 sister to enlist Clarissa in the ranks of the brides- 
 maids. 
 
 'It would look so strange to exclude a pretty 
 girl like that,' she said. Whereupon Geraldine 
 had replied rather coldly that she did not wish to 
 do anything that was strange, and that Miss Lovel 
 was at liberty to be one of her bridesmaids. She 
 had studiously ignored the confession of jealousy 
 made that night in her sister's dressing-room ; nor 
 had Laura ever presumed to make the faintest allu-
 
 184 THE L0VELS OF ABDEN. 
 
 sion to it. Things had gone so well since, and 
 there seemed nothing easier than to forget that un- 
 wonted outbreak of womanly passion. 
 
 Clarissa heard the approaching marriage dis- 
 cussed with a strange feeling, a nameless undefin- 
 able regret. It seemed to her that George Fairfax 
 was the only person in her small world who really 
 understood her, the only man who could have been 
 her friend and counsellor. It was a foolish fancy, 
 no doubt, and had very little foundation in fact; 
 but, argue with herself as she might against her 
 folly, she could not help feeling that this mar- 
 riage was in somewise a calamity for her. She 
 was quite sure that Lady Geraldine did not like 
 her, and that, as Lady Geraldine's husband, George 
 Fairfax could not be her friend. She thought of 
 this a great deal in those busy weeks before the 
 wedding, and wondered at the heaviness of her heart 
 in these days. What was it that she had lost ? 
 As she had wondered a little while ago at the 
 brightness of her life, she wondered now at its 
 darkness. It seemed as if all the colour had gone 
 out of her existence all at once ; as if she had been 
 wandering for a little while in some enchanted re- 
 gion, and found herself now suddenly thrust forth
 
 lady laura's preparations. 185 
 
 from the gates of that fairy paradise upon the bleak 
 outer world. The memory of her troubles came 
 back to her with a sudden sharpness. She had 
 almost forgotten them of late — her brother's exile 
 and disgrace, her father's coldness, all that made 
 her fate dreary and hopeless. She looked forward 
 to the future with a shudder. What had she to 
 hope for — now ? 
 
 It was the last week in August when Lady 
 Geraldine went up to London, and George Fairfax 
 hurried northward to his friend's aerie. The trous- 
 seau had been put in hand a day or two after 
 the final settlement of affairs, and the post had 
 carried voluminous letters of instruction from Lady 
 Laura to the milliners, and had brought back little 
 parcels containing snippings of dainty fabrics, scraps 
 of laces, and morsels of delicate silk, in order that 
 colours and materials might be selected by the bride. 
 Everything was in progress, and Lady Geraldine 
 was only wanted for the adjustment of those more 
 important details which required personal super- 
 vision. 
 
 If Clarissa Lovel could have escaped from all 
 this pleasant bustle and confusion, from the perpe- 
 tual consultations and discussions which Lady
 
 186 THE LOVELS OF ABDEN. 
 
 Laura held with all her favourites upon the sub- 
 ject of the coming marriage — if she could by any 
 means have avoided all these, and above all her 
 honourable office of bridesmaid — she would most 
 gladly have done so. A sudden yearning for the 
 perfect peace, the calm eventless days of her old 
 life at Mill Cottage, had taken possession of her. 
 In a moment, as if by some magical change, the 
 glory and delight of that brilliant existence at the 
 Castle seemed to have vanished away. There were 
 the same pleasures, the same people ; but the very 
 atmosphere was different, and she began to feel 
 like those other girls whose dulness of soul she had 
 wondered at a little while ago. 
 
 1 1 suppose I enjoyed myself too much when 
 first I came here,' she thought, perplexed by this 
 change in herself. ' I gave myself up too entirely 
 to the novelty of this gay life, and have used-up 
 my capacity for enjoyment, almost like those girls 
 who have gone through half-a-dozen London sea- 
 sons.' 
 
 "When Lady Geraldine and George Fairfax were 
 gone, it seemed to Clarissa that the Castle had a 
 vacant air without them. The play still went on, 
 but the chief actors had vanished from the scene.
 
 lady laura's preparations. 187 
 
 Miss Lovel had allowed herself to feel an almost 
 morbid interest in Mr. Fairfax's betrothed. She 
 had watched Lady Geraldine from day to day, half 
 unconsciously, almost in spite of herself, wonder- 
 ing whether she really loved her future husband, 
 or whether this alliance were only the dreary simu- 
 lacrum she had read of in fashionable novels — a 
 marriage of convenience. Lady Laura had cer- 
 tainly declared that her sister was much attached 
 to Mr. Fairfax ; but then, in an artificial world, 
 where such a mode of marrying and giving in mar- 
 riage obtained, it would obviously be the business 
 of the bride's relatives to affect a warm belief in 
 her affection for the chosen victim. In all her 
 watching Clarissa had never surprised one outward 
 sign of Geraldine Challoner's love. It was very 
 difficult for a warm-hearted impulsive girl to believe 
 in the possibility of any depth of feeling beneath 
 that coldly placid manner. Nor did she perceive 
 in Mr. Fairfax himself many of those evidences of 
 affection which she would have expected from a 
 man in his position. It was quite true that as 
 the time of his marriage drew near he devoted 
 himself more and more exclusively to his betrothed ; 
 but Clarissa could not help fancying, among her
 
 188 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 many fancies about these two people, that there 
 was something formal and ceremonial in his devo- 
 tion ; that he had, at the best, something of the 
 air of a man who was doing his duty. Yet it 
 would have seemed absurd to doubt the reality of 
 his attachment to Lady Geraldine, or to fear the 
 result of an engagement that had grown out of a 
 friendship which had lasted for years. The chorus 
 of friends at Hale Castle were never tired of dwell- 
 ing upon this fact, and declaring what a beautiful 
 and perfect arrangement such a marriage was. It 
 was only Lizzie Fermor who, in moments of con- 
 fidential converse with Clarissa, was apt to elevate 
 her expressive eyebrows and impertinent little nose, 
 and to make disrespectful comments upon the sub- 
 ject of Lady Geraldine's engagement — remarks which 
 Miss Lovel felt it in some manner her duty to 
 parry, by a warm defence of her friend's sister. 
 
 ' You are such a partisan, Clarissa,' Miss Fermor 
 would exclaim impatiently ; ' but take my word for 
 it, that woman only marries George Fairfax be- 
 cause she feels she has come to the end of her 
 chances, and that this is about the last opportunity 
 she may have of making a decent marriage.' 
 
 The engaged couple were to be absent only a
 
 lady laura's preparations. 189 
 
 week — that was a settled point ; for on the very 
 day after that arranged for their return there was 
 to be a ball at Hale Castle — the first real ball of 
 the season — an event which would of course lose 
 half its glory if Lady Geraldine and her lover were 
 missing. So Laura Armstrong had been most em- 
 phatic in her parting charge to George Fairfax. 
 
 ' Remember, George, however fascinating your 
 bachelor friends may be — and of course we know 
 that nothing we have to offer you in a civilised 
 way can be so delightful as roughing it in a High- 
 land bothy (bothy is what you call your cottage, 
 isn't it?) with a tribe of wild sportsmen — you are 
 to be back in time for my ball on the twenty-fifth. 
 I shall never forgive you, if you fail me.' 
 
 1 My dear Lady Laura, I would perish in the 
 struggle to be up to time, rather than be such a 
 caitiff. I would do the journey on foot, like Jeannie 
 Deans, rather than incur the odium of disappoint- 
 ing so fair a hostess.' 
 
 And upon this Mr. Fairfax departed, with a 
 gayer aspect than he had worn of late, almost as 
 if it had been a relief to him to get away from 
 Hale Castle. 
 
 Lady Laura had a new set of visitors coming,
 
 190 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 and was full of the business involved in their re- 
 ception. She was not a person who left every 
 arrangement to servants, numerous and skilful as 
 her staff was. She liked to have a finger in every 
 pie, and it was one of her boasts that no depart- 
 ment of the household was without her supervision. 
 She would stop in the middle of a page of Tasso 
 to discuss the day's bill of fare with her cook ; and 
 that functionary had enough to do to gratify my 
 lady's eagerness for originality and distinction even 
 in the details of her dinner-table. 
 
 ' My good Volavent,' she would say, tossing the 
 poor man's list aside, with a despairing shrug of 
 her shoulders, ' all these entrees are as old as the 
 hills. I am sure Adam must have had stewed 
 pigeons with green peas, and chicken a la Marengo 
 — they are the very ABC of cookery. Do, pray, 
 strike out something a little newer. Let me see; 
 I copied the menu of a dinner at St. Petersburg 
 from " Count Cralonzki's diary of his own times," 
 the other day, on purpose to show you. There 
 really are some ideas in it. Do look it over, Vola- 
 vent, and see if it will inspire you. We must try 
 to rise above the level of a West-end hotel.' 
 
 In the same manner did my lady supervise the
 
 lady laura's preparations. 191 
 
 gardens, to the affliction of the chief official and 
 his dozen or so of underlings. To have the first 
 peaches and the last grapes in the county of York, 
 to decorate her table with the latest marvel in 
 pitcher plants and rare butterfly -shaped orchids, 
 was Lady Laura's ambition ; to astonish morning 
 visitors with new effects in the garden her un- 
 ceasing desire. Xor within doors was her influence 
 less actively exercised. Drawing-rooms and bou- 
 doirs, morning-rooms and bedchambers, were always 
 undergoing some improving touch, some graceful 
 embellishment, inspired by that changeful fancy. 
 When new visitors were expected at the Castle, 
 Lady Laura flitted about their rooms, inspecting 
 every arrangement, and thinking of the smallest 
 minutiae. She would even look into the rooms 
 prepared for the servants on these occasions, to be 
 sure that nothing was wanting for their comfort. 
 She liked the very maids and valets to go away 
 and declare there was no place so pleasant as Hale 
 Castle. Perhaps when people had been to her two 
 or three times, she was apt to grow a little more 
 careless upon these points. To dazzle and astonish 
 was her chief delight, and of course it is somewhat 
 difficult to dazzle old friends.
 
 192 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 In the two days after Geraldine Challoner's de- 
 parture Lady Laura was in her gayest mood. She 
 had a delightful air of mystery in her converse with 
 Clarissa; would stop suddenly sometimes in the 
 midst of her discourse to kiss the girl, and would 
 contemplate her for a few moments with her sweetest 
 smile. 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, what pleasant subject are 
 you thinking about ?' Clarissa asked wonderingly ; 
 ' I am sure there is something. You have such 
 a mysterious air to-day, and one would suppose 
 by your manner that I must be concerned in this 
 mystery.' 
 
 ' And suppose you were, Clary — suppose I were 
 plotting for your happiness ? But no ; there is really 
 nothing ; you must not take such silly fancies into 
 your head. You know how much I love you, Clary — 
 as much as if you were a younger sister of my own ; 
 and there is nothing I would not do to secure your 
 happiness.' 
 
 Clarissa shook her head sadly. 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, good and generous as 
 you are, it is not in your power to do that,' she said, 
 ' unless you could make my father love me, or bring 
 my brother happily home.'
 
 lady laura's preparations. 193 
 
 ' Or give you back Arden Court ?' suggested Lady 
 Laura, smiling. 
 
 ' Ah, that is the wildest dream of all ! But I 
 would not even ask Providence for that. I would be 
 content, if my father loved me ; if we were only a 
 happy united family.' 
 
 ' Don't you think your father would be a changed 
 man, if he could get back his old home somehow ? 
 The loss of that must have soured him a good deal.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that. Yes, of course that 
 loss does weigh upon his mind ; but even when we 
 were almost children he did not seem to care much 
 for my brother Austin or me. He was not like other 
 fathers.' 
 
 ' His money troubles may have oppressed him 
 even then. The loss ofArden Court might have been 
 a foreseen calamity.' 
 
 ' Yes, it may have been so. But there is no use 
 in thinking of that. Even if papa were rich enough 
 to buy it, Mr. Granger would never sell the Court.' 
 
 'Sell it!' repeated Lady Laura meditatively; 
 ' well, perhaps not. One could hardly expect him to 
 do that — a place for which he has done so much. 
 But one never knows what may happen ; I have really 
 seen such wonderful changes come to pass among 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 friends and acquaintances of mine, that scarcely any- 
 thing would astonish me — no, Clary, not if I were to 
 see you mistress of Arden Court.' 
 
 And then Lady Laura kissed her protegee once 
 more with effusion, and anon dipped her brush in the 
 carmine, and went on with the manipulation of a 
 florid initial in her missal — a fat gothic M, interlaced 
 with ivy-leaves and holly. 
 
 ' You haven't asked me who the people are that I 
 am expecting this afternoon,' she said presently, with 
 a careless air. 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, if you were to tell me their 
 names, I don't suppose I should be any wiser than I 
 am now. I know so few people.' 
 
 ' But you do know these — or at least you know 
 all about them. My arrivals to-day are Mr. and Miss 
 Granger.' 
 
 Clarissa gave a faint sigh, and bent a little lower 
 over her work. 
 
 'Well, child, are you not surprised? have you 
 nothing to say ?' cried Lady Laura rather impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 ' I — I daresay they are very nice people,' Clarissa 
 answered nervously. ' But the truth is — I know you 
 must despise me for such folly — I cannot help asso-
 
 lady laura's preparations. 195 
 
 ciating them with our loss, and I have a kind of 
 involuntary dislike of them. I have never so much 
 as seen them, you know — not even at church ; for 
 they go to the gothic chapel which Mr. Granger has 
 built in his model village, and never come to our 
 dear little church at Arden ; and it is very childish 
 and absurd of me, no doubt, but I don't think I ever 
 could like them.' 
 
 ' It is very absurd of you, Clary,' returned ma- 
 lady ; ' and if I could be angry with you for anything, 
 it certainly would be for this unjust prejudice against 
 people I want you to like. Think what a nice com- 
 panion Miss Granger would be for you when you are 
 at home — so near a neighbour, and really a very supe- 
 rior girl.' 
 
 1 I don't want a companion ; I am used to being 
 alone.' 
 
 1 Well, well, when you come to know her, you 
 will like her ver much, I daresay, in spite of your- 
 self; that will be my triumph. I am bent upon 
 bringing about friendly relations between your father 
 and Mr. Granger.' 
 
 1 You will never do that, Lady Laura.' 
 
 ' I don't know. I have a profound faith in my 
 own ideas.'
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 
 
 After luncheon that day, Clarissa lost sight of Lady 
 Laura. The Castle seemed particularly quiet on this 
 afternoon. Nearly every one was out of doors play- 
 ing croquet ; hut Clarissa had hegun to find croquet 
 rather a wearisome business of late, and had excused 
 herself on the plea of letters to write. She had not 
 begun her letter-writing yet, however, but was wan- 
 dering about the house in a purposeless way — now 
 standing still for a quarter of an hour at a time, look- 
 ing out of a window, without being in the least degree 
 conscious of the landscape she was looking at, and 
 then pacing slowly up and down the long picture-gal- 
 lery with a sense of relief in being alone. 
 
 At last she roused herself from this absent dreamy 
 state. 
 
 ' I am too idle to write this afternoon,' she thought. 
 ' I'll go to the library and get a book.'
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 197 
 
 The Hale library was Clarissa's delight. It was 
 a noble collection gathered by dead-and-gone owners 
 of the Castle, and filled up with all the most famous 
 modern works at the bidding of Mr. Armstrong, who 
 gave his bookseller a standing order to supply every- 
 thing that was proper, and rarely for his own indi- 
 vidual amusement or instruction had recourse to any 
 shelf but one which contained neat editions of the 
 complete works of the Druid and Mr. Apperley, the 
 Life of Assheton Smith, and all the volumes of the 
 original Sporting Magazine bound in crimson russia. 
 These, with Ruff's Guide, the Racing Calendar, and 
 a few volumes on farriery, supplied Mr. Armstrong's 
 literary necessities. But to Clarissa, for whom books 
 were at once the pleasure and consolation of life, this 
 library seemed a treasure-house of inexhaustible de- 
 lights. Her father's collection was of the choicest, 
 but limited. Here she found everything she had ever 
 heard of, and a whole world of literature she had 
 never dreamed of. She was not by any means a 
 pedant or a blue -stocking, and it was naturally 
 amongst the books of a lighter class she found the 
 chief attraction ; but she was better read than most 
 girls of her age, and better able to enjoy solid 
 reading.
 
 198 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 To-day she was out of spirits, and came to the 
 library for some relief from those vaguely painful 
 thoughts that had oppressed her lately. The room 
 was so little affected by my lady's butterfly guests 
 that she made sure of having it all to herself this 
 afternoon, when the voices and laughter of the 
 croquet-players, floating in at the open windows, told 
 her that the sport was still at its height. 
 
 She went into the room, and stopped suddenly a 
 few paces from the doorway. A gentleman was 
 standing before the wide empty fire-place, where there 
 was a great dog-stove of ironwork and brass which 
 consumed about half a ton of coal a day in winter ; a 
 tall ponderous-looking man, with his hands behind 
 him, glancing downward with cold gray eyes, but not 
 in the least degree inclining his stately head, to listen 
 to Lady Laura Armstrong, who was seated on a sofa 
 near him, fanning herself and prattling gaily after her 
 usual vivacious manner. 
 
 Clarissa started and drew back at sight of this tall 
 stranger. 
 
 ' Mr. Granger,' she thought, and tried to make 
 her escape without being seen. 
 
 The attempt was a failure. Lady Laura called to 
 her.
 
 DANIEL GRANGES. 199 
 
 1 Who is that in a white dress '? Miss Lovel, I 
 am sure. — Come here, Clary — what are you running 
 away for ? Let me present you to my friend Mr. 
 Granger. — Mr. Granger, this is Miss Lovel, the Miss 
 Lovel whose birth-place fortune has given to you.' 
 
 Mr. Granger bowed rather stiffly, and with the 
 air of a man to whom a bow was a matter of business. 
 
 ' I regret,' he said, ' to have robbed Miss Lovel of 
 a home to which she was attached. I regret still 
 more that she will not avail herself of my desire to 
 consider the park and grounds entirely at her disposal 
 on all occasions. Nothing would give me greater 
 pleasure than to see her use the place as if it were 
 her own.' 
 
 • And nothing could be kinder than such a wish 
 on your part,' exclaimed my lady approvingly. 
 
 Clarissa lifted her eyes rather shyly to the rich 
 man's face. He was not a connoisseur in feminine 
 loveliness, but they struck him at once as very fine 
 eyes. He was a connoisseur in pictures, and no 
 mean judge of them, and those brilliant hazel eyes of 
 Clarissa's reminded him of a portrait by Velasquez of 
 which he was particularly proud. 
 
 'You are very kind,' she murmured; 'but — but 
 there are some associations too painful to bear. The
 
 200 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 park would remind me so bitterly of all I have lost 
 since I was a child.' 
 
 She was thinking of her brother, and his disgrace 
 — or misfortune ; she did not even know which of 
 these two it was that had robbed her of him. Mr. 
 Granger looked at her wonderingly. Her words and 
 manner seemed to betray a deeper feeling than he 
 could have supposed involved in the loss of an estate. 
 He was not a man of sentiment himself, and had 
 gone through life affected only by its sternest reali- 
 ties. There was something rather too Eosa-Matilda- 
 ish for his taste in this faltered speech of Clarissa's ; 
 but he thought her a very pretty girl nevertheless, 
 and was inclined to look somewhat indulgently upon 
 a weakness he would have condemned without com- 
 punction in his daughter. Mr. Granger was a man 
 who prided himself upon his strength of mind, and 
 he had a very poor idea of the exclusive recluse whose 
 early extravagances had made him master of Arden 
 Court. He had not seen Mr. Lovel half-a-dozen 
 times in his life, for all business between those two 
 that could be transacted by their respective lawyers 
 had been so transacted; but what he had seen of that 
 pale careworn face, that fragile figure and somewhat 
 irritable manner, had led the ponderous strong-
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 201 
 
 minded Daniel Granger to consider Marmaduke Lovel 
 a very poor creature. 
 
 He was interested in this predecessor of his 
 nevertheless. A man must be harder than iron who 
 can usurp another man's home, and sit by another 
 man's hearthstone, without giving some thought to 
 the exile he has ousted. Daniel Granger was not so 
 hard as that, and he did profoundly pity the ruined 
 gentleman he had deposed. Perhaps he was still 
 more inclined to pity the ruined gentleman's only 
 daughter, who must needs suffer for the sins and 
 an errors of others. 
 
 1 Xow, pray don't run away, Clary,' cried Lady 
 Laura, seeing Clarissa moving towards the door, as 
 if still anxious to escape. ' You came to look for 
 some books, I know. — Miss Lovel is a very clever 
 young lady, I assure you, Mr. Granger, and has read 
 immensely. — Sit down, Clary ; }*ou shall take away 
 an armful of books by and by, if you like.' 
 
 Clarissa seated herself near my lady's sofa with a 
 gracious submissive air which the owner of Arden 
 Court thought a rather pretty kind of thing, in its 
 way. He had a habit of classifying all young women 
 in a general way with his own daughter, as if in 
 possessing that one specimen of the female race he
 
 202 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 had a key to the whole species. His daughter was 
 obedient, it was one of her chief virtues ; but some- 
 how there was not quite such a graceful air in her 
 small concessions as he perceived in this little sub- 
 mission of Miss Lovel's. 
 
 Mr. Granger was rather a silent man ; but my 
 lady rattled on gaily in her accustomed style, and 
 while that perennial stream of small-talk flowed on, 
 Clarissa had leisure to observe the usurper. 
 
 He was a tall man, six feet high perhaps, with a 
 powerful and somewhat bulky frame, broad shoulders, 
 a head erect and firmly planted as an obelisk, and 
 altogether an appearance which gave a general idea 
 of strength. He was not a bad-looking man by any 
 means. His features were large and well-cut, the 
 mouth firm as iron, and unshadowed by beard or 
 moustache ; the eyes gray and clear, but very cold. 
 Such a man could surely be cruel, Clarissa thought, 
 with an inward shudder. He was a man who would 
 have looked grand in a judge's wig ; a man whose 
 eyes and eyebrows, lowered upon some trembling 
 delinquent, might have been almost as awful as Lord 
 Thurlow's. Even his own light-brown hair, faintly 
 streaked with gray, which he wore rather long, had 
 something of a leonine air.
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 203 
 
 He listened to Lady Laura's trivial discourse with 
 a manner which was no doubt meant to be gracious, 
 but with no great show of interest. Once he went so 
 far as to remark that the Castle gardens were look- 
 ing very fine for so advanced a season, and attended 
 politely to my lady's rather diffuse account of her 
 triumphs in the orchid line. 
 
 ' I don't pretend to understand much about those 
 things,' he said in his stately far-off way, as if he 
 lived in some world quite remote from Lady Laura's, 
 and of a superior rank in the catalogue of worlds. 
 ' They are pretty and curious, no doubt. My daugh- 
 ter interests herself considerably in that sort of thing. 
 We have a good deal of glass at Arden, more than I 
 care about. My head man tells me that I must have 
 grapes and pines all the 3 T ear round ; and since he 
 insists upon it, I submit. But I imagine that a good 
 many more of his pines and grapes find their way to 
 Covent-garden than to my table.' 
 
 Clarissa remembered the old kitchen-gardens at 
 the Court in her father's time, when the whole 
 extent of ' glass' was comprised by a couple of dilapi- 
 dated cucumber-frames, and a queer little greenhouse 
 in a corner, where she and her brother had made 
 some primitive experiments in horticulture, and where
 
 204 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 there was a particular race of spiders, the biggest 
 specimens of the spidery species it had ever been her 
 horror to encounter. 
 
 ' 1 wonder whether the little greenhouse is there 
 still,' she thought. ' 0, no, no ; battered down to 
 the ground, of course, by this pompous man's order. 
 I don't suppose I should know the dear old place, if 
 I were to see it now.' 
 
 'You are fond of botany, I suppose, Miss Lovel?' 
 Mr. Granger asked presently, with a palpable effort. 
 He was not an adept in small-talk, and though in 
 the course of years of dinner-eating and dinner-giving 
 he had been frequently called upon to address his 
 conversation to young ladies, he never opened his 
 lips to one of the class without a sense of constraint 
 and an obvious difficulty. He had all his life been 
 most at home in men's society, where the talk was 
 of grave things, and was no bad talker when the 
 question in hand was either commercial or political. 
 But as a rich man cannot go through life without 
 being cultivated more or less by the frivolous herd, 
 Mr. Granger had been compelled to conform himself 
 somehow to the requirements of civilised society, and 
 to talk in his stiff bald way of things which he 
 neither understood nor cared for.
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 205 
 
 ' I am fond of flowers,' Clarissa answered, ' but I 
 really know nothing of botany. I would always rather 
 paint them than anatomise them.' 
 
 1 Indeed ! Painting is a delightful occupation for 
 a young lady. My daughter sketches a little, but I 
 cannot say that she has any remarkable talent that 
 way. She has been well taught, of course.' 
 
 ' You will find Miss Lovel quite a first-rate artist,' 
 said Lady Laura, pleased to praise her favourite. ' I 
 really know no one of her age with such a marked 
 genius for art. Everybody observes it.' And then, 
 half afraid that this praise might seem to depreciate 
 Miss Granger, the good-natured chatelaine went on, 
 ' Your daughter illuminates, I daresay ?' 
 
 1 "Well, yes, I suppose so, Lady Laura. I know 
 that Sophia does some messy kind of work involving 
 the use of gums and colours. I have seen her en- 
 gaged in it sometimes. And there are scriptural 
 texts on the walls of our poor-schools which I con- 
 clude are her work. A young woman cannot have 
 too many pursuits. I like to see my daughter oc- 
 cupied.' 
 
 ' Miss Granger reads a good deal, I suppose, like 
 Clarissa,' Lady Laura hazarded. 
 
 1 No, I cannot say that she does. My daughter's
 
 206 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 habits are active and energetic rather than studious. 
 Nor should I encourage her in giving much time to 
 literature, unless the works she read were of a very 
 solid character. I have never found anything great 
 achieved by reading men of my own acquaintance ; 
 and directly I hear that a man is never so happy as 
 in his library, I put him down as a man whose life 
 will be a failure.' 
 
 ' But the great men of our day have generally 
 been men of wide reading, have they not ?' 
 
 ' I think not, Lady Laura. They have been men 
 who have made a little learning go a long way. Of 
 course there are numerous exceptions amongst the 
 highest class of all — statesmen, and so on. But for 
 success in active life, I take it, a man cannot have 
 his brain too clear of waste rubbish in the way of 
 book-learning. He wants all his intellectual coin in 
 his current account, you see, ready for immediate 
 use, not invested in out-of-the-way corners, where he 
 can't get at it.' 
 
 While Mr. Granger and my lady were arguing 
 this question, Clarissa went to the bookshelves and 
 amused herself hunting for some attractive volumes. 
 Daniel Granger followed the slender girlish figure 
 with curious eyes. Nothing could have been more un-
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 207 
 
 expected than this meeting with Marmaduke Lovel' s 
 daughter. He had done his best, in the first year or 
 so of his residence at the Court, to cultivate friendly 
 relations with Mr. Lovel, and had most completely 
 failed in that well-meant attempt. Some men in Mr. 
 Granger's position might have been piqued by this 
 coldness. But Daniel Granger was not such a one ; 
 he was not given to undervalue the advantage of his 
 friendship or patronage. A career of unbroken pro- 
 sperity, and a character by nature self-contained and 
 strong-willed, combined to sustain his belief in him- 
 self. He could not for a moment conceive that Mr. 
 Lovel declined his acquaintance as a thing not worth 
 having. He therefore concluded that the banished 
 lord of Arden felt his loss too keenly to endure to 
 look upon his successor's happiness, and he pitied 
 him accordingly. It would have been the one last 
 drop of bitterness in Marmaduke Lovel' s cup to know 
 that this man did pity him. Having thus failed in 
 cultivating anything approaching intimacy with the 
 father, Mr. Granger was so much the more disposed 
 to feel an interest — half curious, half compassionate 
 — in the daughter. From the characterless ranks of 
 young-lady-hood this particular damsel stood out with 
 unwonted distinctness. He found his mind wander-
 
 208 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ing a little as he tried to talk with Lady Laura. He 
 could not help watching the graceful figure yonder, 
 the slim white-robed figure standing out so sharply 
 against the dark background of carved oaken book- 
 shelves. 
 
 Clarissa selected a couple of volumes to carry 
 away with her presently, and then came back to 
 her seat by Lady Laura's sofa. She did not want 
 to appear rude to Mr. Granger, or to disoblige her 
 kind friend, who for some reason or other was 
 evidently anxious she should remain, or she would 
 have been only too glad to run away to her own 
 room. 
 
 The talk went on. My lady was confidential after 
 her manner, communicating her family affairs to 
 Daniel Granger as freely as she might have done if 
 he had been an uncle or an executor. She told him 
 about her sister's approaching marriage and George 
 Fairfax's expectations. 
 
 ' They will have to begin life upon an income 
 that I daresay you would think barely sufficient for 
 bread and cheese,' she said. 
 
 Mr. Granger shook his head, and murmured that 
 his own personal requirements could be satisfied for 
 thirty shillings a week.
 
 DANIEL GRANGER. 209 
 
 1 1 daresay. It is generally the case with million- 
 aires. They give fonr hundred a year to a cook, and 
 dine upon a mutton-chop or a hoiled chicken. But 
 really Mr. Fairfax and Geraldine will be almost poor 
 at first ; only my sister has fortunately no taste for 
 display, and George must have sown all his wilcf-oats 
 by this time. I expect them to be a model couple, 
 they are so thoroughly attached to each other.' 
 
 Clarissa opened one of her volumes and bent over 
 it at this juncture. Was this really true ? Did Lady 
 Laura believe what she said ? Was that problem 
 which she had been perpetually trying to solve lately 
 so very simple, after all, and only a perplexity to her 
 own weak powers of reason ? Lady Laura must be 
 the best judge, of course, and she was surely too 
 warm-hearted a woman to take a conventional view 
 of things, or to rejoice in a mere marriage of con- 
 venience. Xo, it must be true. They really did love 
 each other, these two, and that utter absence of all 
 those small signs and tokens of attachment which 
 Clarissa had expected to see was only a character- 
 istic of good taste. What she had taken for coldness 
 was merely a natural reserve, which at once proved 
 their superior breeding and rebuked her own vulgar 
 curiosity. 
 
 vol. 1. p
 
 210 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 From the question of the coming marriage Lady- 
 Laura flew to the lighter subject of the ball. 
 
 ' I hope Miss Granger has brought a ball-dress. 
 I told her all about our ball in my last note.' 
 
 1 1 believe she has provided herself for the occa- 
 sion/ replied Mr. Granger. 1 1 know there was an 
 extra trunk, to which I objected when my people 
 were packing the luggage. Sophia is not usually ex- 
 travagant in the matter of dress. She has a fair 
 allowance, of course, and liberty to exceed it on occa- 
 sion ; but I believe she spends more upon her school- 
 children and pensioners in the village than on her 
 toilet.' 
 
 'Your ideas on the subject of costume are not 
 quite so wide as Mr. Brummel's, I suppose,' said my 
 lady. ' Do you remember his reply, when an anxious 
 mother asked him what she ought to allow her son 
 for dress ?' 
 
 Mr. Granger did not spoil my lady's delight in 
 telling an anecdote by remembering ; and he was a 
 man who would have conscientiously declared his 
 familiarity with the story, had he known it. 
 
 ' " It might be done on eight hundred a year, 
 madam," replied Brummel, " with the strictest 
 economy." '
 
 DANIEL GE ANGER. 211 
 
 Mr. Granger gave a single -knock kind of laugh. 
 
 ' Curious fellow, that Brumniel,' he said. ' I re- 
 member seeing him at Caen, when I was travelling 
 as a young man.' 
 
 And so the conversation meandered on, my lady 
 persistently lively in her pleasant commonplace way, 
 Mr. Granger still more commonplace, and not at all 
 lively. Clarissa thought that hour and a half in the 
 library the longest she had ever spent in her life. 
 How different from that afternoon in the same room 
 when George Fairfax had looked at his watch and 
 declared the Castle bell must be wrong ! 
 
 That infallible bell rang at last — a welcome sound 
 to Clarissa, and perhaps not altogether unwelcome to 
 Lady Laura and Mr. Granger, who had more than 
 once sympathised in a smothered yawn.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MR. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 
 
 When Clarissa went to the great drawing-room 
 dressed for dinner, she found Lizzie Fermor talking 
 to a young lady whom she at once guessed to be 
 Miss Granger. Nor was she allowed to remain in 
 any doubt of the fact ; for the lively Lizzie beckoned 
 her to the window by which they were seated, and 
 introduced the two young ladies to each other. 
 
 'Miss Granger and I are quite old friends,' she 
 said, ' and I mean you to like each other very much.' 
 
 Miss Granger bowed stiffly, but pledged herself 
 to nothing. She was a tall young woman of about 
 two-and-twenty, with very little of the tender grace 
 of girlhood about her ; a young woman who, by right 
 of a stately carriage and a'pair of handsome shoul- 
 ders, might have been called fine-looking. Her fea- 
 tures were not unlike her father's; and those eyes
 
 MB. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 213 
 
 and eyebrows of Daniel Granger's, which would have 
 looked so well under a judicial wig, were reproduced 
 in a modified degree in the countenance of his 
 daughter. She had what would be generally called 
 a fine complexion, fair and florid; and her hair, of 
 which she had an abundant quantity, was of an in- 
 sipid light brown, and the straightest Clarissa had 
 ever seen. Altogether, she w T as a young lady who, 
 invested with all the extraneous charms of her father's 
 wealth, would no doubt be described as attractive, 
 and even handsome. She was dressed well, with a 
 costly simplicity, in a dark-blue corded silk, relieved 
 by a berthe of old point-lace, and the whiteness of 
 her full firm throat was agreeably set-off by a broad 
 band of black velvet from which there hung a Mal- 
 tese cross of large rubies. 
 
 The two young ladies went on with their talk, 
 which was chiefly of gaieties they had each assisted 
 at since their last meeting, and people they had met. 
 
 Clarissa, being quite unable to assist in this con- 
 versation, looked on meeldy, a little interested in 
 Miss Granger, who was, like herself, an only daugh- 
 ter, and about whose relations with her father she 
 had begun to wonder. Was he very fond of this 
 only child, and in this, as in all else, unlike her own
 
 214 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 father ? He had spoken of her that afternoon seve- 
 ral times, and had even praised her, but somewhat 
 coldly, and with a practical matter-of-course air, al- 
 most as Mr. Lovel might have spoken of his daughter 
 if constrained to talk of her in society. 
 
 Miss Granger said a good deal about the great 
 people she had met that year. They seemed all to 
 be more or less the elect of the earth : but she pulled 
 herself up once or twice to protest that she cared 
 very little for society; she was happier when em- 
 ployed with her schools and poor people — that was 
 her real element. 
 
 ' One feels all the other thing to be so purpose- 
 less and hollow,' she said sententiously. ' After a 
 round of dinners and dances and operas and concerts 
 in London, I always have a kind of guilty feeling. 
 So much time wasted, and nothing to show for it. 
 And really my poor are improving so wonderfully. 
 If you could see my cottages, Miss Termor !' (she 
 did not say ' their cottages.') ' I give a prize for the 
 cleanest floors and windows, an illuminated ticket 
 for the neatest 1 garden-beds. I don't suppose you 
 could get a sprig of groundsel for love or money in 
 Arden village. I have actually to cultivate it in a 
 corner of the kitchen-garden for my canaries. I give
 
 MR. GRANGER 18 INTERESTED. 215 
 
 another prize at Christmas for the most economical 
 household management, accorded to the family which 
 has dined oftenest without meat in the course of the 
 year ; and I give a premium of one per cent upon all 
 investments in the Holborough savings-bank — one 
 and a half in the case of widows ; a complete suit of 
 clothes to every woman who has attended morning 
 and evening service without missing one Sunday in 
 the year, the consequence of which has been to put 
 a total stop to cooking on the day of rest. I don't 
 believe you could come across so much as a hot 
 potato on a Sunday in one of my cottages.' 
 
 1 And do the husbands like the cold dinners '?' 
 Miss Fermor asked rather flippantly. 
 
 ' I should hope that spiritual advantage would 
 prevail over temporal luxury, even in their half- 
 awakened minds,' replied Miss Granger. 'I have 
 never inquired about their feelings on the subject. 
 I did indeed hear that the village baker, who had 
 driven a profitable trade every Sunday morning be- 
 fore my improvements, made some most insolent 
 comments upon what I had done. But I trust I can 
 rise superior to the impertinence of a village baker. 
 However, you must come to Arden and see my cot- 
 tages, and judge for yourself; and if you could only
 
 216 THE L0VELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 know the benighted state in which I found these 
 poor creatures — ' 
 
 Lizzie Fermor glanced towards Clarissa, and then 
 gave a little warning look, which had the effect of 
 stopping Miss Granger's disquisition. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Miss Lovel,' she said ; ' I 
 forgot that I was talking of your own old parish. 
 But you were a mere child, I believe, when you left 
 the Court, and of course could not be capable of 
 effecting much improvement.' 
 
 ' We were too poor to do much, or to give prizes,' 
 Clarissa answered ; ' but we gave what we could, and 
 — and I think the people were fond of us.' 
 
 Miss Granger looked as if this last fact were very 
 wide from the question. 
 
 ' I have never studied how to make the people 
 fond of me,' she said. ' My constant effort has been 
 to make them improve themselves and their own con- 
 dition. All my plans are based upon that principle. 
 "If you want a new gown, cloak, and bonnet at 
 Christmas," I tell the women, " you must earn them 
 by unfailing attendance at church. If you wish to 
 obtain the money-gift I wish to give you, you must 
 first show me something saved by your own economy 
 and self-sacrifice." To my children I hold out
 
 MR. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 217 
 
 similar inducements — a prize for the largest amount 
 of plain needlework, every stitcli of which I make it 
 my duty to examine through a magnifying glass ; a 
 prize for scrupulous neatness in dress ; and for scrip- 
 ture knowledge. I have children in my Sunday- 
 schools who can answer any question upon the Old- 
 Testament history from Genesis to Chronicles.' 
 
 Clarissa gave a faint sigh, almost appalled by 
 these wonders. She remembered the girls' Sunday- 
 school in her early girlhood, and her own poor little 
 efforts at instruction, in the course of which she had 
 seldom carried her pupils out of the Garden of Eden, 
 or been able to get over the rivers that watered that 
 paradise, as described by the juvenile inhabitants of 
 Arden, without little stifled bursts of laughter on 
 her own part ; while in the very midst of her most 
 earnest endeavours, she was apt to find her brother 
 Austin standing behind her, tempting the juvenile 
 mind by the surreptitious offer of apples or walnuts. 
 The attempts at teaching generally ended in merry 
 laughter and the distribution of nuts and apples, 
 with humble apologies to the professional schoolmis- 
 tress for so useless an intrusion. 
 
 Miss Granger had no time to enlarge farther 
 upon her manifold improvements before dinner, to
 
 218 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 which she was escorted by one of the officers from 
 Steepleton, the nearest garrison town, who happened 
 to be dining there that day, and was very glad to get 
 an innings with the great heiress. The master of 
 Arden Court had the honour of escorting Lady Laura ; 
 but from his post by the head of the long table he 
 looked more than once to that remote spot where 
 Clarissa sat, not far from his daughter. My lady 
 saw those curious glances, and was delighted to see 
 them. They might mean nothing, of course; but 
 to that sanguine spirit they seemed an augury of 
 success for the scheme which had been for a long- 
 time hatching in the matron's busy brain. 
 
 ' What do you think of my pet, Mr. Granger ?' 
 she asked presently. 
 
 Mr. Granger glanced at the ground near my 
 lady's chair with rather a puzzled look, half expect- 
 ing to see a Maltese spaniel or a flossy-haired Skye 
 terrier standing on its hind legs. 
 
 ' What do you think of my pet and protegee, 
 Miss Lovel ?' 
 
 ' Miss Lovel ! Well, upon my word, Lady Laura, 
 I am so poor a judge of the merits of young ladies 
 in a general way ; but she really appears a very ami- 
 able young person.'
 
 ME. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 219 
 
 ' And is she not lovely ? asked Lady Laura, con- 
 templating the distant Clarissa in a dreamy way 
 through her double eyeglass. 'I think it is the 
 sweetest face I ever saw." 
 
 ' She is certainly very pretty/ admitted Mr. 
 Granger. 'I was struck by her appearance this 
 afternoon in the library. I suppose there is some- 
 thing really out of the common in her face, for I 
 am generally the most unobservant of men in such 
 matters.' 
 
 ' Out of the common !' exclaimed Lady Laura. 
 ' My dear sir, it is such a face as you do not see 
 twice in a lifetime. Madame Eecamier must have 
 been something like that, I should fancy — a woman 
 who could attract the eyes of all the people in the 
 great court of the Luxembourg, and divide public 
 attention with Napoleon.' 
 
 Mr. Granger did not seem interested in the rather 
 abstract question of Clarissa's possible likeness to 
 Madame Eecamier. 
 
 1 She is certainly very pretty,' he repeated in a 
 meditative manner ; and stared so long and vacantly 
 at a fricandeau which a footman was just offering 
 him, that any less well-trained attendant must have 
 left him in embarrassment.
 
 220 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 The next few days were enlivened by a good deal 
 of talk about the ball, in which event Miss Granger 
 did not seem to take a very keen interest. 
 
 ' I go to balls, of course,' she said ; ' one is 
 obliged to do so : for it would seem so ungracious 
 to refuse one's friends' invitations ; but I really do 
 not care for them. They are all alike, and the rooms 
 are always hot.' 
 
 ' I don't think you will be able to say that here,' 
 replied Miss Fermor. ' Lady Laura's arrangements 
 are always admirable ; and there is to be an im- 
 promptu conservatory under canvas the whole length 
 of the terrace, in front of the grand saloon where we 
 are to dance, so that the six windows can be open 
 all the evening.' 
 
 ' Then I daresay it will be a cold night,' said 
 Miss Granger, who was not prone to admire other 
 people's cleverness. ' I generally find that it is so, 
 when people take special precautions against heat.' 
 
 Clarissa naturally found herself thrown a good 
 deal into Sophia Granger's society ; but though they 
 worked, and drove, and walked together, and played 
 croquet, and acted in the same charades, it is doubt- 
 ful whether there was really much more sympathy 
 between these two than between Clarissa and Lady
 
 MB. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 221 
 
 Geraldine. There was perhaps less ; for Clarissa 
 Lovel had been interested in Geraldine Challoner, 
 and she was not in the faintest degree interested in 
 Miss Granger. The cold and shining surface of that 
 young lady's character emitted no galvanic spark. It 
 was impossible to deny that she was wise and accom- 
 plished; that she did everything well that she at- 
 tempted : that, although obviously conscious of her 
 own supreme advantages as the heiress to a great 
 fortune, she was benignly indulgent to the less 
 blessed among her sex, — it was impossible to deny 
 all this : and yet it was not any more easy to get on 
 with Sophia Granger than with Lady Geraldine. 
 
 One day, after luncheon, when a bevy of girls 
 were grouped round the piano in the billiard-room, 
 Lizzie Fermor — who indulged in the wildest latitude 
 of discourse — was audacious enough to ask Miss 
 Granger how she would like her father to marry 
 again. 
 
 The faultless Sophia elevated her well-marked 
 eyebrows with a look of astonishment that ought to 
 have frozen Miss Fermor. The eyebrows were as 
 hard and as neatly pencilled as the shading in Miss 
 Granger's landscapes. 
 
 1 Marry again !' she repeated, ' papa ! — if you knew
 
 222 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 him better, Miss Fermor, you would never speculate 
 upon such a thing. Papa will never marry again.' 
 
 ' Has he promised you that ?' asked the irrepres- 
 sible Lizzie. 
 
 ' I do not require any promise from him. I know 
 him too well to have the slightest doubt upon the 
 subject. Papa might have married brilliantly, again 
 and again, since I was a little thing.' (It was rather 
 difficult to fancy Miss Granger a ' little thing' in any 
 stage of her existence.) i But nothing has ever been 
 more remote from his ideas than a second marriage. 
 I have heard people regret it.' 
 
 ' You have not regretted it, of course.' 
 ' I hope I know my duty too well, to wish to stand 
 between papa and his happiness. If it had been for 
 his happiness to marry — a person of a suitable age 
 and position, of course — I should not have considered 
 my own feelings in the matter.' 
 
 'Well, I suppose not,' replied Lizzie, rather 
 doubtfully ; ' still it is nice to have one's father all 
 to oneself — to say nothing of being an heiress. And 
 the worst of the business is, that when a widower of 
 your papa's age does take it into his head to marry, 
 he is apt to fall in love with some chit of a girl.' 
 Miss Granger stared at the speaker with a gaze
 
 ME. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 223 
 
 as stony as Antigone herself could have turned upon 
 any impious jester who had hinted that (Edipus, in 
 his blindness and banishment, was groping for some 
 frivolous successor to Jocasta. 
 
 1 My father in love with a girl!' she exclaimed. 
 ' What a very false idea you must have formed of his 
 character, Miss Fermor, when you can suggest such 
 an utter absurdity !' 
 
 ' But, you see, I wasn't speaking of Mr. Granger, 
 only of widowers in general. I have seen several 
 marriages of that kind — men of forty or fifty throw- 
 ing themselves away, I suppose one ought to say, 
 upon girls scarcely out of their teens. In some cases 
 the marriage seems to turn out well enough ; but of 
 course one does sometimes hear of things not going 
 on quite happily.' 
 
 Miss Granger was grave and meditative after this 
 — perhaps half disposed to suspect Elizabeth Fermor 
 of some lurking design on her father. She had been 
 seated at the piano during this conversation, and 
 now resumed her playing — executing a sonata of 
 Beethoven's with faultless precision and the highest 
 form of taught expression ; so much emphasis upon 
 each note — a careful rallentando here, a gradual 
 crescendo there ; nothing careless or slapdash from
 
 224 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 the first bar to the last. She would play the same 
 piece a hundred times without varying the perform- 
 ance by a hair's-breadth. Nor did she affect any- 
 thing but classical music. She was one of those 
 young ladies who, when asked for a waltz or a polka, 
 freeze the impudent demander by replying that they 
 play no dance music — nothing more frivolous than 
 Mozart. 
 
 The day for the ball came, but there was no 
 George Fairfax. Lady Geraldine had arrived at the 
 Castle on the evening before the festival, bringing an 
 excellent account of her father's health. He had 
 been cheered by her visit, and was altogether so 
 much improved, that his doctors would have given 
 him permission to come down to Yorkshire for his 
 daughter's wedding. It was only his own valetu- 
 dinarian habits and extreme dread of fatigue which 
 had prevented Lady Geraldine bringing him down in 
 triumph. 
 
 Lady Laura was loudly indignant at Mr. Fair- 
 fax's non-aj>pearance ; and for the first time Clarissa 
 heard Lady Geraldine defend her lover with some 
 natural and womanly air of proprietorship. 
 
 'After pledging his word to me as he did!' ex- 
 claimed my lady, when it had come to luncheon-time
 
 MB. GRANGES IS INTERESTED. 225 
 
 and there were still no signs of the delinquent's 
 return. 
 
 ' But really, Laura, there is no reason he should 
 not keep his word,' Geraldine answered, with her 
 serene air. ' You know men like to do these things 
 in a desperate kind of way — as if they were winning 
 a race. I daresay he has made his plans so as not 
 to leave himself more than half an hour's margin, 
 and will reach the Castle just in time to dress. 1 
 
 ' That is all very well ; but I don't call that keep- 
 ing his promise to me, to come rushing into the 
 place just as we are beginning to dance : after travel- 
 ling all night perhaps, and knocking himself up in 
 all sorts of ways, and with no more animation or 
 vivacity left in him than a man who is walking in 
 his sleep. Besides, he ought to consider our anxiety." 
 
 'Your anxiety, if you please, Laura. lam not 
 anxious. I cannot see that George's appearance at 
 the ball is a matter of such vital importance.' 
 
 1 But, my dear Geraldine, it would seem so 
 strange for him to be away. People would wonder 
 so.' 
 
 ' Let them wonder,' Lady Geraldine replied, with 
 a little haughty backward movement of her head, 
 which was natural to her. 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 226 THE LOYELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Amongst the cases and packages which had been 
 perpetually arriving from London during the last 
 week or so, there was one light deal box which Lady 
 Laura's second maid brought to Clarissa's room one 
 morning with her mistress's love. The box con- 
 tained the airiest and most girlish of ball-dresses, 
 all cloudlike white tulle, and the most entrancing 
 wreath of wild-roses and hawthorn, such a wreath as 
 never before had crowned Miss Lovel's bright-brown 
 hair. Of course there was the usual amount of 
 thanks and kissing and raptures. 
 
 ' I am responsible to your father for your looking 
 your best, you see, Clary,' Lady Laura said, laugh- 
 ing ; ' and I intend you to make quite a sensation 
 to-night. The muslin you meant to wear is very 
 pretty, and will do for some smaller occasion ; but 
 to-night is a field-night. Be sure you come to me 
 when you are dressed. I shall be in my own rooms 
 till the people begin to arrive; and I want to see 
 you when Fosset has put her finishing touches to 
 your dress.' 
 
 Clarissa promised to present herself before her 
 kind patroness. She was really pleased with her 
 dress, and sincerely grateful to the giver. Lady 
 Laura was a person from whom it was easy to accept
 
 ME. GRANGER IS INTERESTED. 227 
 
 benefits. There was something bounteous and ex- 
 pansive in her nature, and her own pleasure in the 
 transaction made it impossible for any but the most 
 churlish recipient to feel otherwise than pleased.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 OPEN TREASON. 
 
 The ball began, and without the assistance of Mr. 
 Fairfax — much to my lady's indignation. She was 
 scarcely consoled by the praises and compliments she 
 received on the subject of her arrangements and de- 
 corations; but these laudations were so unanimous 
 and so gratifying, that she did at last forget Mr. 
 Fairfax's defection in the delight of such perfect suc- 
 cess. 
 
 The Duke — the one sovereign magnate of that 
 district — a tall grand-looking old man with white 
 hair, even deigned to be pleased and surprised by 
 what she had done. 
 
 ' But then you have such a splendid platform to 
 work upon,' he said ; ' I don't think we have a place 
 in Yorkshire that can compare with Hale. You had 
 your decorators from London, of course ?'
 
 OPEN TREASON. 229 
 
 'No, indeed, your grace,' replied my lady, 
 sparkling with delighted pride ; ' and if there is any- 
 thing I can boast of, it is that. Fred wanted me to 
 send for London people, and have the thing done in 
 their wholesale manner — put myself entirely into 
 their hands, give them carte blanche, and so on; so 
 that, till the whole business was finished, I shouldn't 
 have known what the place was to be like ; but that 
 is just the kind of arrangement I detest. So I sent 
 for one of my Holborough men, told him my ideas, 
 gave him a few preliminary sketches, and after a good 
 many consultations and discussions, we arrived at 
 our present notion. "Abolish every gHmmer of gas," 
 I said, '"and give me plenty of flowers and wax- 
 candles. The rest is mere detail." ' 
 
 Everything was successful ; Miss Granger's pro- 
 phecy of cold weather was happily unfulfilled. The 
 night was unusually still and sultry, a broad harvest 
 moon steeping terraces and gardens in tender mellow 
 light ; not a breath to stir the wealth of blossoms, or 
 to flutter the draperies of the many windows, all wide 
 open to the warm night — a night of summer at the 
 beginning of autumn. 
 
 Clarissa found herself in great request for the 
 dances, and danced more than she had done since the
 
 230 THE LOVELS OF AKDEN. 
 
 days of her schoolgirl waltzes and polkas in the play- 
 room at Belforet. It was ahout an hour after the 
 dancing had begun, when Lady Laura brought her 
 no less a partner than Mr. Granger, who had walked 
 a solemn quadrille or two with a stately dowager, and 
 whose request was very surprising to Clarissa. She 
 had one set of quadrilles, however, unappropriated on 
 her card, and expressed herself at Mr. Granger's dis- 
 posal for that particular dance, and then tripped 
 away, to be whirled round the great room by one of 
 her military partners. 
 
 Daniel Granger stood amongst the loungers at 
 one end of the room, watching that aerial revolving 
 figure. Yes, Lady Laura was right ; she was very 
 lovely. In all his life he had never before paid much 
 heed to female loveliness, any more than to the 
 grandeurs and splendours of nature, or anything be- 
 yond the narrow boundary of his own successful com- 
 monplace existence. But in this girl's face there was 
 something that attracted his attention, and dwelt in 
 his memory when he was away from her ; perhaps, 
 after all, it was the result of her position rather than 
 her beauty. It was natural that he should be inter- 
 ested in her, poor child. He had robbed her of her 
 home, or it would seem so to her, no doubt ; and
 
 0PEX TREASON. 231 
 
 she had let him see that she set an exaggerated value 
 on that lost home, that she clung to it with a morbid 
 sentimentality. 
 
 ' I should not wonder if she hates me,' he said to 
 himself. 
 
 He had never thought as much about her father, 
 but then certainly he had never been brought into 
 such close contact with her father. 
 
 He waited quietly for that appointed quadrille, 
 declining a dance in which Lady Laura would have 
 enlisted him, and keeping a close watch upon Clarissa 
 during the interval. "What a gay butterfly creature 
 she seemed to-night ! He could scarcely fancy this 
 was the same girl who had spoken so mournfully 
 of her lost home in the library that afternoon. He 
 looked from her to his daughter for a moment, com- 
 paring the two ; Sophia resplendent in pink areo- 
 phane and pearls, and showing herself not above 
 the pleasures of a polka ; eminently a fine young 
 woman, but 0, of what a different clay from that 
 other one ! 
 
 Once Miss Fermor, passing the rich man on the 
 arm of her partner, surprised the watchful gray eyes 
 with a new look in them — a look that was neither 
 cold nor stern.
 
 232 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' So, my gentleman,' thought the lively Lizzie, 
 ' is it that way your fancies are drifting ? It was I 
 whom you suspected of dangerous designs the other 
 day, Miss Granger. Take care your papa doesn't 
 fall into a deeper pitfall. I should like to see 
 him marry again, if it were only to take down that 
 great pink creature's insolence.' Whereby it will be 
 seen that Miss Granger was not quite so popular 
 among her contemporaries as, in the serenity of her 
 self-possessed soul, she was wont to imagine herself. 
 
 The quadrille began presently, and Clarissa 
 walked through its serious mazes with the man 
 whom she was apt to consider the enemy of her 
 race. She could not help wondering a little to find 
 herself in this position, and her replies to Mr. 
 Granger's commonplace remarks were somewhat 
 mechanical. 
 
 Once he contrived to bring the conversation round 
 to Arden Court. 
 
 ' It would give me so much pleasure to see you 
 there as my daughter's guest,' he said, in a Avarmer 
 tone than was usual to him, ' and I really think you 
 would be interested in her parish -work. She has 
 done wonders in a small way.' 
 
 ' I have no doubt. You are very kind,' faltered
 
 OPEN TREASON. 233 
 
 Clarissa : ; but I do not the least understand how 
 to manage people as Miss Granger does, and I could 
 not bear to come to the Court. I was so happy 
 there with my brother, and now that he is gone, 
 and that I am forbidden even to mention his name, 
 the associations of the place would be too painful.' 
 
 Mr. Granger grew suddenly grave and silent. 
 
 ' Yes. there was that business about the brother,' 
 he thought to himself; ' a bad business no doubt, 
 or the father would never have turned him out of 
 doors — something very queer perhaps. A strange 
 set these Lovels evidently. The father a spendthrift, 
 the son something worse.' 
 
 And then he looked down at Clarissa, and thought 
 again how lovely she was, and pitied her for her 
 beauty and her helplessness — the daughter of such 
 a father, the sister of such a brother. 
 
 "But she will marry well, of course,' he said to 
 himself, just as George Fairfax had done ; ' all these 
 young fellows seem tremendously struck by her. 
 I suppose she is the prettiest girl in the room. She 
 will make a good match, I daresay, and get out of 
 her father's hands. It must be a dreary life for her 
 in that cottage, with a selfish disappointed man.' 
 
 The night waned, and there was no George
 
 234 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Fairfax. Lady Geralcline bore herself bravely, and 
 danced a good deal more than she would have done, 
 had there not been appearances to be kept up. She 
 had to answer a great many questions about her 
 lover, and she answered all with supreme frankness. 
 He was away in Scotland with some bachelor friends, 
 enjoying himself no doubt. He promised to be with 
 them to-night, and had broken his promise ; that 
 was all — she was not afraid of any accident. 
 
 ' I daresay he found the grouse-shooting too at- 
 tractive,' she said coolly. 
 
 After supper, while the most determined of the 
 waltzers were still spinning round to a brisk deux 
 temps of Charles d' Albert's, Clarissa was fain to tell 
 the last of her partners she could dance no more. 
 
 ' I am not tired of the ball,' she said ; ' I like 
 looking on, but I really can't dance another step. 
 Do go and get some one else for this waltz ; I know 
 you are dying to dance it.' 
 
 This was to the devoted Captain Westleigh, a 
 person with whom Miss Lovel always felt very much 
 at home. 
 
 1 With you,' he answered tenderly. ' But if you 
 mean to sit down, I am at your service. I would 
 not desert you for worlds. And you really are look-
 
 OPEN TREASON. 235 
 
 ing a little pale. Shall we find some pleasanter 
 place '? That inner room looks deliriously cool.' 
 
 He offered his arm to Clarissa, and they walked 
 slowly away towards a small room at the end of the 
 saloon ; a room which Lady Laura had arranged 
 with an artful eye to effect, leaving it almost in 
 shadow. There were only a few wax-candles glim- 
 mering here and there among the cool dark foliage 
 of the ferns and pitcher-plants that filled every niche 
 and corner, and the moonlight shone full into the 
 room through a wide window that opened upon a 
 stone balcony a few feet above the terrace. 
 
 ' If I am left alone with her for five minutes. I 
 am sure I shall propose,' Captain "Westleigh thought, 
 on beholding the soft secluded aspect of this apart- 
 ment, which was untenanted when he and Clarissa 
 entered it. 
 
 She sank down upon a sofa near the window, 
 more thoroughly tired than she had confessed. This 
 long night of dancing and excitement was quite a 
 new thing to her. It was nearly over now, and the 
 reaction was coming, bringing with it that vague 
 sense of hopelessness and disappointment which had 
 so grown upon her of late. She had abandoned her- 
 self fully to the enchantment of the ball, almost
 
 236 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 losing the sense of her own identity in that brilliant 
 scene. But self- consciousness came back to her 
 now, and she remembered that she was Clarissa 
 Lovel, for whom life was at best a dreary business. 
 
 ' Can I get you anything ?' asked the Captain, 
 alarmed by her pallor. 
 
 ' Thanks, you are very kind. If it would not be 
 too much trouble — I know the refreshment-room is 
 a long way off — but I should be glad of a little 
 water.' 
 
 ' I'll get some directly. But I really am afraid 
 you are ill,' said the Captain, looking at her anxi- 
 ously, scarcely liking to leave her for fear she should 
 faint before he came back. 
 
 ' No, indeed, I am not ill — only very tired. If 
 you'll let me rest here a little without talking.' 
 
 She half closed her eyes. There was a dizziness 
 in her head very much like the preliminary stage 
 of fainting. 
 
 * My dear Miss Lovel, I should be a wretch to 
 bore you. I'll go for the water this moment.' 
 
 He hurried away. Clarissa gave a long weary 
 sigh, and that painful dizziness passed off in some 
 degree. All she wanted was air, she thought, if 
 there had been any air to be got that sultry night.
 
 OPEN TREASON. 237 
 
 She rose from the sofa presently, and went ont upon 
 the balcony. Below her was the river ; not a ripple 
 upon the water, not a breath stirring the rushes on 
 the banks. Between the balcony and the river there 
 was a broad battlemented walk, and in the embra- 
 sures where cannon had once been there were great 
 stone vases of geraniums and dwarf roses, which 
 seemed only masses of dark foliage in the moonlight. 
 
 The Captain was some little time gone for that 
 glass of water. Clarissa had forgotten him and his 
 errand as she sat upon a bench in the balcony with 
 her elbow leaning on the broad stone ledge, looking 
 down at the water and thinking of her own life — 
 thinking what it might have been if everything in 
 the world had been different. 
 
 A sudden step on the walk below startled her, 
 and a low voice said, 
 
 ' I would I were a glove upon that hand, that I 
 might kiss that cheek.' 
 
 She knew the voice directly, but was not less 
 startled at hearing it just then. The step came 
 near her, and in the next moment a dark figure had 
 swung itself lightly upward from the path below, 
 and George Fairfax was seated on the angle of the 
 massive balustrade.
 
 238 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' Juliet !' lie said, in the same low voice, ' what 
 put it into your head to play Juliet to-night ? As 
 if you were not dangerous enough without that.' 
 
 ' Mr. Fairfax, how could you startle me so ? 
 Lady Laura has been expecting you all the even- 
 ing.' 
 
 * I suppose so. But you don't imagine I've been 
 hiding in the garden all the evening, like the man in 
 Tennyson's Maud ? I strained heaven and earth to 
 be here in time ; but there was a breakdown between 
 Edinburgh and Carlisle. Nothing very serious : an 
 engine-driver knocked about a little, and a few pas- 
 sengers shaken and bruised more or less, but I es- 
 caped unscathed, and had to cool my impatience for 
 half a dozen hours at a dingy little station where 
 there was no refreshment for body or mind but a 
 brown jug of tepid water and a big Bible. There 
 I stayed till I was picked up by the night -mail, and 
 here I am. I think I shall stand absolved by my 
 lady when she reads the account of my perils in to- 
 morrow's papers. People are just going away, I 
 suppose. It would be useless for me to dress and 
 put in an appearance now.' 
 
 1 1 think Lady Laura would be glad to see you. 
 She has been very anxious, I know.'
 
 OPEN TREASON. 239 
 
 * Her sisterly cares shall cease before she goes 
 to sleep to-night. She shall be informed that I 
 am in the house; and I will make my peace to- 
 morrow morning.' 
 
 He did not go away however, and Clarissa began 
 to feel that there was something embarrassing in her 
 position. He had stepped lightly across the balus- 
 trade, and had seated himself very near her, looking 
 down at her face. 
 
 * Clarissa, do you know what has happened to me 
 since I have been away from this place ?' 
 
 She looked up at him with an alarmed expres- 
 sion. It was the first time he had ever uttered her 
 Christian name, but his tone was so serious as to 
 make that a minor question. 
 
 ' You cannot guess, I suppose,' he went on. 
 1 I've made a discovery — a most perplexing, most 
 calamitous discovery.' 
 
 1 What is that ?' 
 
 ' I have found out that I love you.' 
 
 Her hand was lying on the broad stone ledge. 
 He took it in his firm grasp, and held it as he 
 went on : 
 
 * Yes, Clarissa ; I had my doubts before I went 
 away, but thought I was master of myself in this,
 
 240 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 as I have been in other things, and fancied myself 
 strong enough to strangle the serpent. But it would 
 not be strangled, Clarissa ; it has wound itself about 
 my heart, and here I sit by your side dishonoured 
 in my own sight, come what may — bound to one 
 woman and loving another with all my soul — yes, 
 with all my soul. What am I to do ?' 
 
 ' Your duty,' Clarissa answered, in a low steady 
 voice. 
 
 Her heart was beating so violently that she won- 
 dered at her power to utter those two words. What 
 was it that she felt — anger, indignation ? Alas, no ! 
 Pride, delight, rapture, stirred that undisciplined 
 heart. She knew now what was wanted to make her 
 life bright and happy ; she knew now that she had 
 loved George Fairfax almost from the first. And 
 her own duty — the duty she was bound in honour 
 to perform — what was that ? Upon that question 
 she had not a moment's doubt. Her duty was to 
 resign him without a murmur ; never to let him 
 know that he had touched her heart. Even after 
 having done this, tliere would be much left to her — 
 the knowledge that he had loved her. 
 
 ' My duty ! what is that ?' he asked in a hoarse 
 hard voice. ' To keep faith with Geraldine, whatso-
 
 OPEN TREASON. 241 
 
 ever misery it may bring upon both of us ? I am 
 not one of those saints who think of everybody's 
 happiness before their own, Clarissa. I am very 
 human, with all humanity's selfishness. I want to be 
 happy. I want a wife for whom I can feel something 
 more than a cold well-bred liking. I did not think 
 that it was in me to feel more than that. I thought 
 I had outlived my capacity for loving, wasted the 
 strength of my heart's youth on worthless fancies, 
 spent all my patrimony of affection ; but the light 
 shines on me again, and I thank God that it is so. 
 Yes, Clarissa, come what may, I thank my God that 
 I am not so old a man in heart and feeling as I 
 thought myself.' 
 
 Clarissa tried to stem the current of his talk, 
 with her heart still beating stormily, but with sem- 
 blance of exceeding calmness. 
 
 ' I must not hear you talk in this wild way, Mr. 
 Fairfax,' she said. ' I feel as if I had been guilty 
 of a sin against Lady Geraldine in having listened 
 so long. But I cannot for a moment think you are 
 in earnest.' 
 
 ' Do not play the Jesuit, Clarissa. You know 
 that I am in earnest.' 
 
 ' Then the railway accident must have turned 
 
 VOL. i. R
 
 242 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 your brain, and I can only hope that to-morrow 
 morning will restore your reason.' 
 
 'Well, I am mad, if you like — madly in love 
 with you. What am I to do ? If with some show 
 of decency I can recover my liberty — by an appeal 
 to Lady Geraldine's generosity, for instance — believe 
 me, I shall not break her heart ; our mutual regard 
 is the calmest, coolest sentiment possible — if I can 
 get myself free from this engagement, will you be 
 my wife, Clarissa ?' 
 
 ' No ; a thousand times no.' 
 
 ' You don't care for me, then ? The madness 
 is all on my side ?' 
 
 ' The madness — if you are really in earnest, and 
 not carrying on some absurd jest — is all on your side.' 
 
 ' Well, that seems hard. I was vain enough to 
 think otherwise. I thought so strong a feeling on 
 one side could not co -exist with perfect indifference 
 on the other. I fancied there was something like 
 predestination in this, and that my wandering un- 
 wedded soul had met its other half — it's an old 
 Greek notion, you know, that men and women were 
 made in pairs — but I was miserably mistaken, I 
 suppose. How many lovers have you rejected since 
 you left school, Miss Lovel ?' he asked with a short
 
 OPEN TREASON. 243 
 
 bitter laugh. ' Geraldine herself could not have 
 given me my quietus more coldly.' 
 
 He was evidently wounded to the quick, being • 
 a creature spoiled by easy conquests, and would 
 have gone on perhaps in the same angry strain, but 
 there was a light step on the floor within, and Lady 
 Laura Armstrong came quickly towards the balcony. 
 ' My dearest Clary, Captain Westleigh tells me 
 that you are quite knocked up — ' she began ; and 
 then recognising the belated traveller, cried out, 
 ' George Fairfax ! Is it possible ?' 
 
 ' George Fairfax, my dear Lady Laura, and not 
 quite so base a delinquent as he seems. I must 
 plead guilty to pushing matters to the last limit ; 
 but I made my plans to be here at seven o'clock this 
 evening, and should inevitably have arrived at that 
 hour, but for a smash between Edinburgh and Car- 
 lisle.' 
 
 ' An accident ! Were you hurt ?' 
 ' Not so much as shaken ; but the break-down 
 lost me half a dozen hours. We were stuck for no 
 end of time at a dingy little station whose name I 
 forget, and when I did reach Carlisle, it was too late 
 for any train to bring me on, except the night-mail, 
 which does not stop at Holborough. I had to post
 
 244 THE LOYELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 from York, and arrived about ten minutes ago — too 
 late for anything except to prove to you that I did 
 make heroic efforts to keep my word.' 
 
 ' And how, in goodness' name, did you get here, 
 to this room, without my seeing you ?' 
 
 ' From the garden. Finding myself too late to 
 make an appearance in the ball-room, I prowled 
 round the premises, listening to the sounds of revelry 
 within; and then seeing Miss Lovel alone here — 
 playing Juliet without a Komeo — I made so bold as 
 to accost her and charge her with a message for 
 you.' 
 
 ' You are amazingly considerate ; but I really 
 cannot forgive you for having deferred your return 
 to the last moment. You have quite spoilt Ger- 
 aldine's evening, to say nothing of the odd look your 
 absence must have to our friends. I shall tell her 
 you have arrived, and I suppose that is all I can do. 
 You must want some supper, by the bye : you'll find 
 plenty of people in the dining-room.' 
 
 ' No, thanks ; I had some cold chicken and coffee 
 at Carlisle. I'll ring for a soda-and-brandy when I 
 get to my room, and that's all I shall do to-night. 
 Good-night, Lady Laura ; good-night, Miss Lovel.' 
 
 He dropped lightly across the balcony and van-
 
 OPEN TREASON. 245 
 
 ished. Lady Laura stood in the window for a few 
 moments in a meditative mood, and then, looking up 
 suddenly, said, 
 
 1 0, by the bye, Clarissa, I came to fetch you for 
 another dance, the last quadrille, if you feel well 
 enough to dance it. Mr. Granger wants you for a 
 partner.' 
 
 1 I don't think I can dance any more, Lady 
 Laura. I refused Captain AVestleigh the last waltz.' 
 
 ' Yes, but a quadrille is different. However, if 
 you are really tired, I must tell Mr. Granger so. 
 What was George Fairfax saying to you just now '? 
 You both looked prodigiously serious." 
 
 ' I really don't know — I forget — it was nothing 
 very particular,' Clarissa answered, conscious that 
 she was blushing, and confused by that conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 Lady Laura looked at her with a sharp scrutin- 
 ising glance. 
 
 ' I think it would have been better taste on 
 George's part if he had taken care to relieve my 
 sister's anxiety directly he arrived, instead of acting 
 the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. I must go 
 back to Mr. Granger with your refusal, Clarissa. 0, 
 here comes Captain Westleigh with some water.'
 
 246 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 The Captain did appear at this very moment 
 carrying a glass of that beverage, much to Clarissa's 
 relief, for a tete-a-tete with Lady Laura was very 
 embarrassing to her just now. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Lovel, you must think me an 
 utter barbarian/ exclaimed the Captain ; ' but you 
 really can't conceive the difficulties I've had to over- 
 come. It seemed as if there wasn't a drop of iced 
 water to be had in the Castle. If you'd wanted 
 Strasburg pies or barley-sugar temples, I could have 
 brought you them by cartloads. Moselle and Maras- 
 chino are the merest drugs in the market ; but not 
 a creature could I persuade to get me this glass of 
 water. Of course the fellows all said, " Yes, sir ;" 
 and then went off and forgot all about me. And 
 even when I had got my prize, I was waylaid by 
 thirsty dowagers who wanted to rob me of it. It 
 was like searching for the North-west Passage.' 
 
 Lady Laura had departed by this time. Clarissa 
 drank some of the water and took the Captain's arm 
 to return to the ball-room, which was beginning to 
 look a little empty. On the threshold of the saloon 
 they met Mr. Granger. 
 
 ' 1 am so sorry to hear you are not well, Miss 
 Lovel,' he said.
 
 OPEN TREASON. 247 
 
 ' Thank you, Mr. Granger, but I am really not 
 ill — only too tired to dance any more.' 
 
 ' So Lady Laura tells me — very much to my 
 regret. I had hoped for the honour of dancing this 
 quadrille with you.' 
 
 'If you knew how rarely Mr. Granger dances, 
 you'd consider yourself rather distinguished, I think, 
 Miss Lovel,' said the Captain, laughing. 
 
 ' Well, no, I don't often dance,' replied Mr. 
 Granger, with a shade of confusion in his manner ; 
 ' but really, such a ball as this quite inspires a man 
 — and Lady Laura was good enough to wish me to 
 dance.' 
 
 He remained by Clarissa's side as they walked 
 back through the rooms. They were near the door 
 when Miss Granger met them, looking as cold and 
 prim in her pink crape and pearls as if she had that 
 moment emerged from her dressing-room. 
 
 ' Do you know how late it is, papa ?' she asked, 
 contemplating her parent with severe eyes. 
 
 1 Well, no, one does not think of time upon such 
 an occasion as this. I suppose it is late ; but it 
 would not do for us of the household to desert before 
 the rest of the company.' 
 
 ' I was thinking of saying good-night,' answered
 
 248 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Miss Granger. ' I don't suppose any one would miss 
 me, or you either, papa, if we slipped away quietly ; 
 and I am sure you will have one of your headaches 
 to-morrow morning.' 
 
 There is no weapon so useful in the hands of a 
 dutiful child as some chronic complaint of its parent. 
 A certain nervous headache from which Mr. Granger 
 suffered now and then served the fair Sophia as a 
 kind of rod for his correction on occasions. 
 
 'lam not tired, my dear.' 
 
 ' 0, papa, I know your constitution hetter than 
 you do yourself. Poor Lady Laura, how worn out 
 she must he !' 
 
 ' Lady Laura has heen doing wonders all the 
 evening,' said Captain Westleigh. ' She has been 
 as ubiquitous as Eichmond at Bosworth, and she 
 has the talent of never seeming tired.' 
 
 Clarissa took the first opportunity of saying good- 
 night. If so important a person as the heiress of 
 Arden Court could depart and not leave a void in 
 the assembly, there could be assuredly no fear that 
 she would be missed. Mr. Granger shook hands 
 with her for the first time in his life as he wished 
 her good-night, and then stood in the doorway watch- 
 ing her receding figure till it was beyond his ken.
 
 OPEN TREASON. 249 
 
 ' I like your friend Miss Lovel, Sophia,' lie said 
 to his daughter presently. 
 
 ' Miss Lovel is hardly a friend of mine, papa,' 
 replied that young lady somewhat sharply. ' I am 
 not in the habit of making sudden friendships, and 
 I have not known Miss Lovel a week. Besides 
 which, she is not the kind of girl I care for.' 
 
 * Why not ?' asked her father bluntly. 
 
 ' One can scarcely explain that land of thing. 
 She is too frivolous for me to get on very well with 
 her. She takes no real interest in my poor, in 
 spite of her connection with Arden, or in church 
 music. I think she hardly knows one Tc Deum 
 from another." 
 
 ' She is rather a nice girl, though,' said the 
 Captain, who would fain be loyal to Clarissa, yet 
 for whom the good opinion of such an heiress as 
 Miss Granger could not be a matter of indifference 
 — there was always the chance that she might 
 take a fancy to him, as he put it to his brother- 
 officers, and what a lucky hit that would be ! 
 ' She's a nice girl,' he repeated, ' and uncommonly 
 pretty.' 
 
 ' I was not discussing her looks, Captain "West- 
 leigh,' replied Miss Granger with some asperity;
 
 250 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 'I was talking of her ideas and tastes, which are 
 quite different from mine. I am sorry you let 
 Lady Laura persuade you to dance with a girl 
 like that, papa. You may have offended old friends, 
 who would fancy they had a prior claim on your 
 attention.' 
 
 Mr. Granger laughed at this reproof. 
 
 ' I didn't think a quadrille was such a serious 
 matter, Sophy,' he said. 'And then, you see, 
 when a man of my age does make a fool of him- 
 self, he likes to have the prettiest girl in the room 
 for his partner.' 
 
 Miss Granger made an involuntary wry face, as 
 if she had been eating something nasty. Mr. Granger 
 gave a great yawn, and, as the rooms by this time 
 were almost empty, made his way to Lady Laura in 
 order to offer his congratulations upon her triumph 
 before retiring to rest. 
 
 For once in a way, the vivacious chatelaine of 
 Hale Castle was almost cross. 
 
 ' Do you really think the ball has gone off well ?' 
 she asked incredulously. 'It seems to me to have 
 been an elaborate failure.' She was thinking of 
 those two whom she had surprised tete-a-tete in 
 the balcony, and wondering what George Fairfax
 
 OPEN TREASON. 251 
 
 could have been saying to produce Clarissa's con- 
 fusion. Clarissa was her protegee, and she was 
 responsible to her sister Geraldine for any mis- 
 chief brought about by her favourite.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 
 
 The day after the ball was a broken straggling 
 kind of clay, after the usual manner of the to-morrow 
 that succeeds a festival. Hale Castle was full to 
 overflowing with guests who, having been invited 
 to spend one night, were pressed to stay longer. 
 The men spent their afternoon for the most part 
 in the billiard-room, after a late lingering luncheon, 
 at which there was a good deal of pleasant gossip. 
 The women sat together in groups in the drawing- 
 rOom, pretending to work, but all desperately idle. 
 It was a fine afternoon, but no one cared for walk- 
 ing or driving. A few youthful enthusiasts did 
 indeed get up a game at croquet, but even this 
 soul-enthralling sport was pursued with a certain 
 listlessness. 
 
 Mr. Fairfax and Lady Geraldine walked in the
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 253 
 
 garden. To all appearance, a perfect harmony pre- 
 vailed between them. Clarissa, sitting alone in an 
 oriel at the end of the drawing-room, watched them 
 with weary eyes and a dull load at her heart, wonder- 
 ing about them perpetually, with a painful wonder. 
 
 If she could only have gone home, she thought 
 to herself, what a refuge the dull quiet of her 
 lonely life would have been ! She had not slept 
 five minutes since the festival of last night, but 
 had lain tossing wearily from side to side, thinking 
 of what George Fairfax had said to her — thinking 
 of what might have been and could never be, and 
 then praying that she might do her duty; that 
 she might have strength to keep firmly to the 
 right, if he should try to tempt her again. 
 
 He would scarcely do that, she thought. That 
 wild desperate talk of last night was perhaps the 
 merest folly — a caprice of the moment, the shallow- 
 est rodomontade, which he would be angry with 
 himself for having spoken. She told herself that 
 this was so ; but she knew now, as she had not 
 known before last night, that she had given this 
 man her heart. 
 
 It would be a hard thing to remain at Hale to 
 perform her part in the grand ceremonial of the
 
 254 THE L0VELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 marriage, and yet keep her guilty secret hidden 
 from every eye ; above all, from his whom it most 
 concerned. But there seemed no possibility of 
 escape from this ordeal, unless she were to be 
 really ill, and excused on that ground. She sat 
 in the oriel that afternoon, wondering whether a 
 painful headache, the natural result of her sleep- 
 lessness and hyper-activity of brain, might not be 
 the beginning of some serious illness — a fever per- 
 haps, which would strike her down for a time and 
 make an end of all her difficulties. 
 
 She had been sitting in the window for a long 
 time quite alone, looking out at the sunny garden 
 and those two figures passing and repassing upon 
 an elevated terrace, with such an appearance of 
 being absorbed in each other's talk, and all-sufficient 
 for each other's happiness. It seemed to Clarissa 
 that she had never seen them so united before. 
 Had he been laughing at her last night ? she 
 asked herself indignantly ; was that balcony scene 
 a practical joke ? He had been describing it to 
 Lady Geraldine perhaps this afternoon, and the 
 two had been laughing together at her credulity. 
 She was in so bitter a mood just now that she was 
 almost ready to believe this.
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 255 
 
 She had been sitting thus a long time, tor- 
 mented by her own thoughts, and hearing the com- 
 monplace chatter of those cheerful groups, now loud, 
 now low, without the faintest feeling of interest, 
 when a heavy step sounded on the floor near her, 
 and looking up suddenly, she saw Mr. Granger ap- 
 proaching her solitary retreat. The cushioned seat 
 in the oriel, the ample curtains falling on either 
 side of her, had made a refuge in which she felt 
 herself alone, and she was not a little vexed to find 
 her retreat discovered. 
 
 The master of Arden Court drew a chair towards 
 the oriel, and seated himself deliberately, with 
 an evident intention of remaining. Clarissa was 
 obliged to answer his courteous inquiries about her 
 health, to admit her headache as an excuse for the 
 heaviness of her eyes, and then to go on talking 
 about everything he chose to speak of. He did not 
 talk stupidly by any means, but rather stiffly, and 
 with the air of a man to whom friendly converse 
 with a young lady was quite a new thing. He 
 spoke to her a good deal about the Court and its 
 surroundings — which seemed to her an error in 
 taste — and appeared anxious to interest her in all 
 his improvements.
 
 256 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' You really must come and see the place, Miss 
 Lovel,' lie said. ' I shall be deeply wounded if 
 you refuse.' 
 
 ' I will come if you wish it,' Clarissa answered 
 meekly; 'but you cannot imagine how painful the 
 sight of the dear old house will be to me.' 
 
 ' A little painful just for the first time, perhaps. 
 But that sort of feeling will soon wear off. You 
 will come, then ? That is settled. I want to win ' 
 your father's friendship if I can, and I look to you 
 to put me in the right way of doing so.' 
 
 ' You are very good, but papa is so reserved — 
 eccentric, I suppose most people would call him — 
 and he lives shut up in himself, as it were. I 
 have never known him make a new friend. Even 
 my uncle Oliver and he seem scarcely more than 
 acquaintances ; and yet I know my uncle would 
 do anything to serve us, and I believe papa knows 
 it too.' 
 
 ' We must trust to time to break down that 
 reserve, Miss Lovel,' Mr. Granger returned cheerily ; 
 * and you will come to see us at the Court — that 
 is understood. I want you to inspect Sophia's 
 schools, and sewing classes, and cooking classes, 
 and goodness knows what. There are plenty of the
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 257 
 
 people who remember you, and will be delighted 
 to welcome you amongst them. I have heard them 
 say how kind you were to them before you went 
 abroad.' 
 
 'I had so little money,' said Clarissa, 'I could 
 do hardly anything.' 
 
 'But, after all, money is not everything with 
 that class of people. No doubt they like it better 
 than anything in the present moment ; but as soon 
 as it is gone they forget it, and are not apt to be 
 grateful for substantial benefits in the past. But 
 past kindness they do remember. Even in my own 
 experience, I have known men who have been un- 
 grateful for large pecuniary benefits, and yet have 
 cherished the memory of some small kindness ; a 
 mere friendly word perhaps, spoken at some peculiar 
 moment in their lives. No, Miss Lovel, you will not 
 find yourself forgotten at Arden.' 
 
 He was so very earnest in this assurance, that 
 Clarissa could not help feeling that he meant to do 
 her a kindness. She was ashamed of her unworthy 
 prejudice against him, and roused herself with a great 
 effort from her abstraction, in order to talk and listen 
 to Mr. Granger with all due courtesy. Xor had she 
 any farther opportunity of watching those two figures 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 pacing backward and forward upon the terrace; for 
 Mr. Granger contrived to occupy her attention till 
 the dressing-bell rang, and afforded her the usual 
 excuse for hurrying away. 
 
 She was one of the last to return to the drawing- 
 room, and to her surprise found Mr. Granger by her 
 side, offering his arm in his stately way when the 
 procession began to file off to the dining-room, obli- 
 vious of the claims which my lady's matronly guests 
 might have upon him. 
 
 Throughout that evening Mr. Granger was more 
 or less by Clarissa's side. His daughter, perceiving 
 this with a scarcely concealed astonishment, turned 
 a deaf ear to the designing compliments of Captain 
 Westleigh (who told himself that a fellow might just 
 as well go in for a good thing as not when he had a 
 chance), and came across the room to take part in 
 her parent's conversation. She even tried to lure 
 him away on some pretence or other ; but this was 
 vain. He seemed rooted to his chair by Clarissa's 
 side — she listlessly turning over a folio volume of 
 steel plates, he pointing out landscapes and scenes 
 which had been familiar to him in his continental 
 rambles, and remarking upon them in a somewhat 
 disjointed fashion — ' Marathon, yes — rather flat, isn't
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 259 
 
 it? But the mountains make a fine background. 
 We went there with guides one day, when I was a 
 young man. The Acropolis — hum ! ha ! — very fine 
 ruins, hut a most inconvenient place to get at. Would 
 you like to see Greece, Miss Lovel '?' 
 
 Clarissa gave a little sigh — half pain, half rap- 
 ture. What chance had she of ever treading that 
 illustrious soil, of ever emerging from the bondage 
 of her dull life ? She glanced across the room to the 
 distant spot where Lady Geraldine and George Fair- 
 fax sat playing chess. He had been there. She 
 remembered his pleasant talk of his wanderings, on 
 the night of their railroad journey. 
 
 ' Who would not like to see Greece ?' she said. 
 
 ' Yes, of course,' Mr. Granger answered in his 
 most prosaic way. ' It's a country that ought to be 
 remarkably interesting ; but unless one is very well 
 up in its history, one is apt to look at everything in 
 a vague uncertain sort of manner. A mountain here, 
 and a temple thou — and then the guides and that 
 kind of people contrive to vulgarise everything some- 
 how ; and then there is always an alarm about bri- 
 gands, to say nothing of the badness of the inns. I 
 really think you would be disappointed in Greece, 
 Miss Lovel.'
 
 260 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 'Let me keep my dream/ Clarissa answered 
 rather sadly ; ' I am never likely to see the reality.' 
 
 ' You cannot be sure of that ; at your age all the 
 world is before you.' 
 
 'You have read Grote, of course, Miss Lovel?' 
 said Miss Granger, who had read every book which 
 a young lady ought to have read, and who rather 
 prided herself upon the solid nature of her studies. 
 
 ' Yes, I have read a good deal of Grote,' Clarissa 
 replied meekly. 
 
 Miss Granger looked at her as if she rather 
 doubted this assertion, and would like to have come 
 down upon her with some puzzling question about 
 the Archons or the Areopagus, but thought better of 
 it, and asked her father if he had been talking to 
 Mr. Purdew. 
 
 Mr. Purdew was a landed gentleman of some 
 standing, whose estate lay near Arden Court, and 
 who had come with his wife and daughters to Lady 
 Laura's ball. 
 
 'He is sitting over there, near the piano,' added 
 Sophia; 'I expected to find you enjoying a chat 
 with him.' 
 
 'I had my chat with Purdew after luncheon,' 
 answered Mr. Granger ; and then he went on turning
 
 THE MORNING AFTER. 261 
 
 the leaves for Clarissa with a solemn air, and occa- 
 sionally pointing out to her some noted feature in a 
 landscape or city. His daughter stared at him in 
 supreme astonishment. She had seen him conven- 
 tionally polite to young ladies before to-night, but 
 this was something more than conventional polite- 
 ness. He kept his place all the evening, and all that 
 Sophia could do was to remain on guard. 
 
 \Yhen Clarissa was lighting her candle at a table 
 in the corridor, Mr. Fairfax came up to her for the 
 first time since the previous night. 
 
 ' I congratulate you on your conquest, Miss Lovel,' 
 he said in a low voice. 
 
 She looked up at him with a pale startled face, 
 for she had not known that he was near her till his 
 voice sounded close in her ear. ' I don't understand 
 you,' she stammered. 
 
 1 0, of course not ; young ladies never can under- 
 stand that sort of thing. But I understand it very 
 well, and it throws a pretty clear light upon our in- 
 terview last night. I wasn't quite prepared for such 
 wise counsel as you gave me then. I can see now 
 whence came the strength of your wisdom. It is a 
 victory worth achieving, Miss Lovel. It means Arden 
 Court. — Yes, that's a very good portrait, isn't it?'
 
 262 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 he went on in a louder key, looking up at rather a 
 dingy picture, as a little cluster of ladies came to- 
 wards the table ; ' a genuine Sir Joshua, I believe.' 
 
 And then came the usual good-nights, and Cla- 
 rissa went away to her room with those words in her 
 ears, ' It means Arden Court.' 
 
 Could he be cruel enough to think so despicably 
 of her as this ? Could he suppose that she wanted 
 to attract the attention of a man old enough to be 
 her father, only because he was rich and the master 
 of the home she loved ? The fact is that Mr. Fairfax 
 — not too good or high-principled a man at the best 
 of times, and yet accounting himself an honourable 
 gentleman — was angry with himself and the whole 
 world, most especially angry with Clarissa, because 
 she had shown herself strong where he had thought 
 to find her weak. Never before had his vanity been 
 so deeply wounded. He had half resolved to sacri- 
 fice himself for this girl — and behold, she cared 
 nothing for him !
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 
 
 The preparations for the wedding went on. Cla- 
 rissa's headache did not develop into a fever, and she 
 had no excuse for flying from Hale Castle. Her 
 father, who had written Lady Laura Armstrong se- 
 veral courteous little notes expressing his gratitude 
 for her goodness to his child, surprised Miss Lovel 
 very much by appearing at the Castle one fine after- 
 noon to make a personal acknowledgment of his 
 thankfulness. He consented to remain to dinner, 
 though protesting that he had not dined away from 
 home — except at his brother-in-law's — for a space of 
 years. 
 
 'lama confirmed recluse, my dear Lady Laura, 
 a worn-out old bookworm, with no better idea of en- 
 joyment than a good fire and a favourite author,' he 
 said ; ' and I really feel myself quite unfitted for
 
 264 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 civilised society. But you have a knack at com- 
 manding, and to hear is to obey ; so if you insist 
 upon it, and will pardon my morning - dress, I re- 
 main.' 
 
 Mr. Lovel's morning-dress was a suit of rather 
 clerical - looking black from a fashionable West -end 
 tailor — a costume that would scarcely outrage the 
 proprieties of a patrician dinner- table. 
 
 ' Clarissa shall show you the gardens between 
 this and dinner-time,' exclaimed Lady Laura. 'It's 
 an age since you've seen them, and I want to know 
 your opinion of my improvements. Besides, you 
 must have so much to say to her.' 
 
 Clarissa blushed, remembering how very little 
 her father ever had to say to her of a confidential 
 nature, but declared that she would be very pleased 
 to show him the gardens ; so after a little more talk 
 with my lady they set out together. 
 
 ' Well, Clary,' Mr. Lovel began, with his kindest 
 air, ' you are making a long stay of it.' 
 
 ' Too long, papa. I should be so glad to come 
 home. Pray don't think me ungrateful to Lady 
 Laura, she is all goodness ; but I am so tired of this 
 kind of life, and I do so long for the quiet of home.' 
 
 ' Tired of this kind of life ! Did ever any one
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 265 
 
 hear of such a girl ! I really think there are some 
 people who would he tired of Paradise. Why, child, 
 it is the making of you to be here ! If I were as 
 rich as — as that fellow Granger, for instance ; con- 
 found Croesus ! — I couldn't give you a better chance. 
 You must stay here as long as that good-natured 
 Lady Laura likes to have you; and I hope you'll 
 have booked a rich husband before you come home. 
 I shall be very much disappointed if you haven't.' 
 
 ' I wish you would not talk in that way, papa : 
 nothing would ever induce me to marry for money.' 
 
 'For money; no, I suppose not,' replied Mr. 
 Lovel testily; 'but you might marry a man with 
 money. There's no reason that a rich man should 
 be inferior to the rest of his species. I don't find 
 anything so remarkably agreeable in poor men.' 
 
 'I am not likely to marry foolishly, papa, or 
 to offend you in that way,' Clarissa answered with 
 a kind of quiet firmness, which her father inwardly 
 execrated as 'infernal obstinacy;' 'but no money in 
 the world would be the faintest temptation to me.' 
 
 ' Humph ! Wait till some Yorkshire squire offers 
 you a thousand a year pin-money: you'll change 
 your tone then, I should hope. Have you seen any- 
 thing of that fellow Granger, by the way ?'
 
 266 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 ' I have seen a good deal of Mr. and Miss Granger, 
 papa. They have been staying here for a fortnight, 
 and are here now.' 
 
 1 You don't say so ! Then I shall be linked into 
 an intimacy with the fellow. Well, it is best to be 
 neighbourly, perhaps. And how do you like Mr. 
 Granger?' 
 
 1 He is not a particularly unpleasant person, 
 papa; rather stiff and matter-of-fact, but not un- 
 gentlemanly; and he has been especially polite to 
 me, as if he pitied me for having lost Arden.' 
 
 In a general way Mr. Lovel would have been in- 
 clined to protest against being pitied, either in his 
 own person or that of his belongings, by such a man 
 as Daniel Granger. But in his present humour it 
 was not displeasing to him to find that the owner of 
 Arden Court had been especially polite to Clarissa. 
 
 ' Then he is really a nice fellow, this Granger, 
 eh, Clary ?' he said airily. 
 
 ' I did not say nice, papa.' 
 
 'No, but civil and good-natured, and that kind 
 of thing. Do you know, I hear nothing but praises 
 of him about Arden ; and he is really doing wonders 
 for the place. Looking at his work with an un- 
 jaundiced mind, it is impossible to deny that. And
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 267 
 
 then his wealth ! — something enormous, they tell me. 
 How do you like the daughter, by the way ?' 
 
 This question Mr. Lovel asked with something 
 of a wry face, as if the existence of Daniel Granger's 
 daughter was not a pleasing circumstance in his 
 mind. 
 
 ' Not particularly, papa. She is very good, I dare- 
 say, and seems anxious to do good among the poor ; 
 and she is clever and accomplished, but she is not a 
 winning person. I don't think I could ever get on 
 with her very well.' 
 
 * That's a pity, since you are such near neigh- 
 bours.' 
 
 * But you have always avoided any acquaintance 
 with the Grangers, papa,' Clarissa said wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, naturally. I have shrunk from know- 
 ing people who have turned me out of house and 
 home, as it were. But that sort of thing must come 
 to an end sooner or later. I don't want to appear 
 prejudiced or churlish ; and in short, though I may 
 never care to cross that threshold, there is no reason 
 Miss Granger and you should not be friendly. You 
 have no one at Arden of your own age to associate 
 with, and a companion of that kind might be useful.
 
 268 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Has the girl much influence with her father, do you 
 think?' 
 
 ( She is not a girl, papa, she is a young woman. 
 I don't suppose she is more than two- or three-and- 
 twenty, but no one would ever think of calling Miss 
 Granger a girl.' 
 
 ' You haven't answered my question.' 
 
 ' I scarcely know how to answer it. Mr. Granger 
 seems kind to his daughter, and she talks as if she 
 had a great deal of influence over him ; but one does 
 not see much of people's real feelings in a great 
 house like this. It is " company" all day long. I 
 daresay Mr. and Miss Granger are very fond of one 
 another, but — but — they are not so much to each 
 other as I should like you and me to be, papa,' Cla- 
 rissa added with a sudden boldness. 
 
 Mr. Lovel coughed, as if something had stuck in 
 his throat. 
 
 ' My dear child, I have every wish to treat you 
 fairly — affectionately, that is to say,' he replied, after 
 that little nervous cough; 'but I am not a man 
 given to sentiment, you see, and there are circum- 
 stances in my life which go far to excuse a certain 
 coldness. So long as you do not ask too much of 
 me — in the way of sentiment, I mean — we shall get
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 269 
 
 on very well, as we have done since your return from 
 school. I have had every reason to be satisfied.' 
 
 This was not much, but Clarissa was grateful 
 even for so little. 
 
 * Thank you, papa,' she said in a low voice; 'I 
 have been very anxious to please you.' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, and I hope — nay am sure — that 
 your future conduct will give me the same cause for 
 satisfaction; that you will act wisely, and settle the 
 more difficult questions of life like a woman of sense 
 and resolution. There are difficult questions to be 
 solved in life, you know, Clary ; and woe betide the 
 woman who lets her heart get the better of her 
 head!' 
 
 Clarissa did not quite understand the drift of this 
 remark, but her father dismissed the subject in his 
 lightest manner before she could express her bewil- 
 derment. 
 
 ' That's quite enough serious talk, my dear,' he 
 said; 'and now give me the carte du pays. Who 
 is here besides these Grangers ? and what little 
 social comedies are being enacted "? Your letters, 
 though very nice and dutiful, are not quite up to the 
 Horace-Walpole standard, and have not enlightened 
 me much about the state of things.'
 
 270 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Clarissa ran over the names of the Castle guests. 
 There was one which she felt would be difficult to 
 pronounce, but it must needs come at last. She 
 wound up her list with it: ' And — and there are 
 Lady Geraldine Challoner, and the gentleman she is 
 going to marry — Mr. Fairfax.' 
 
 To her extreme surprise, the name seemed to 
 awaken some unwonted emotion in her father's 
 breast. 
 
 ' Fairfax !' he exclaimed ; ' what Fairfax is that ? 
 You didn't tell me whom Lady Geraldine was to 
 marry when you told me you were to officiate as 
 bridesmaid. Who is this Mr. Fairfax ?' 
 
 ' He has been in the army, papa, and has sold 
 out. He is the heir to some great estate called 
 Lyvedon, which he is to inherit from an uncle.' 
 
 ' His son !' muttered Mr. Lovel. 
 
 ' Do you know Mr. Fairfax, papa ?' 
 
 * No, I do not know this young man. But I have 
 known others — members of the same family — and 
 have a good reason for hating his name. He comes 
 of a false unprincipled race. I am sorry for Lady 
 Geraldine.' 
 
 ' He may not have inherited the faults of his 
 family, papa.'
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 271 
 
 ' May not!' echoed Mr. Lovel contemptuously; 
 ' or may. I fancy these vices run in the blood, child, 
 and pass from father to son more surely than a 
 landed estate. To lie and betray came natural to 
 the man I knew. Great Heaven ! I can see his false 
 smile at this moment.' 
 
 This was said in a low voice; not to Clarissa, 
 but to himself; a half-involuntary exclamation. He 
 turned impatiently presently, and walked hurriedly 
 back towards the Castle. 
 
 ' Let us go in,' he said. ' That name of Fairfax 
 has set my teeth on edge.' 
 
 ' But you will not be uncivil to Mr. Fairfax, 
 papa ?' Clarissa asked anxiously. 
 
 ' Uncivil to him ! No, of course not. The man 
 is Lady Laura's guest, and a stranger to me ; why 
 should I be uncivil to him ?' 
 
 Nor would it have been possible to imagine by 
 and by, when Mr. Lovel and George Fairfax were 
 introduced to each other, that the name of the 
 younger man was in any manner unpleasant to the 
 elder. Clarissa's father had evidently made up his 
 mind to be agreeable, and was eminently successful 
 in the attempt. At the dinner-table he was really 
 brilliant, and it was a wonder to every one that a
 
 272 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 man who led a life of seclusion could shine forth all 
 at once with more than the success of a professed 
 diner-out. But it was to Mr. Granger that Marma- 
 duke Lovel was most particularly gracious. He 
 seemed eager to atone, on this one occasion, for all 
 former coldness towards the purchaser of his estate. 
 Nor was Daniel Granger slow to take advantage of 
 his urbane humour. For some reason or other, that 
 gentleman was keenly desirous of acquiring Mr. 
 Lovel's friendship. It might be the commoner's 
 slavish worship of ancient race, it might be some 
 deeper motive, that influenced him, but about the 
 fact itself there could be no doubt. The master of 
 Arden was eager to place his coverts, his park, his 
 library, his hot-houses, his picture-gallery — every- 
 thing that he possessed — at the feet of his ruined 
 neighbour. Yet even in his eagerness to confer these 
 benefits there was some show of delicacy, and he was 
 careful not to outrage the fallen man's dignity. 
 
 Mr. Lovel listened, and bowed, and smiled ; 
 pledged himself to nothing; waived off every offer 
 with an airy grace that was all his own. A prime- 
 minister, courted by some wealthy place - hunter, 
 could not have had a loftier air ; and yet he contrived 
 to make Mr. Granger feel that this was the inau-
 
 CHIEFLY PATEEXAL. 273 
 
 guration of a friendship between them ; that he con- 
 sented to the throwing down of those barriers which 
 had kept them apart hitherto. 
 
 'For myself, I am a hermit by profession,' he said; 
 ' but I am anxious that my daughter should have 
 friends, and I do not think she could have a more 
 accomplished or agreeable companion than Miss 
 Granger.' 
 
 He glanced towards that young lady with a smile 
 — almost a triumphant smile — as he said this. She 
 had been seated next him at dinner, and he had paid 
 her considerable attention — attention which had not 
 been received by her with quite that air of gratifica- 
 tion which Mr. Lovel's graceful compliments were 
 apt to cause. He was not angry with her, however. 
 He contemplated her with a gentle indulgence, as an 
 interesting study in human nature. 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Lovel,' said Lady Laura in a con- 
 fidential tone, when he was wishing her good-night, 
 ' what do you think of Mr. Granger now ?' 
 
 ' I think he is a very excellent fellow, my dear 
 Lady Laura ; and that I am to blame for having 
 been so prejudiced against him.' 
 
 ' I am so glad to hear you say that !' cried my 
 lady eagerly. She had drawn him a little way apart 
 
 VOL. i. t
 
 274 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 from the rest of her visitors, out of earshot of the 
 animated groups of talkers clustered here and there. 
 e And now I want to know if you have made any 
 great discovery ?' she asked, looking at him tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 He responded to the look with a most innocent 
 stare. 
 
 ' A discovery, my dearest Lady Laura — you mys- 
 tify me. What discovery is there for me to make, 
 except that Hale Castle is the most delightful place 
 to visit ? — and that fact I knew beforehand, knowing 
 its mistress.' 
 
 ' But is it possible that you have seen nothing 
 — guessed nothing? And I should have supposed 
 you such a keen observer — such a profound judge 
 of human nature.' 
 
 ' One does not enlarge one's knowledge of human 
 nature by being buried amongst books as I have 
 been. But seriously, Lady Laura, what is the answer 
 to the enigma — what ought I to have guessed, or 
 seen ?' 
 
 < Why, that Daniel Granger is desperately in 
 love with your daughter.' 
 
 ' With Clarissa ! Impossible ! Why, the man 
 is old enough to be her father.'
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 275 
 
 ' Now, ray clear Mr. Lovel, you know that is no 
 reason against it. I tell you the thing is certain — 
 palpable to any one who has had some experience 
 in such matters, as I have. I wanted to bring this 
 about ; I had set my heart upon it before Clarissa 
 came here, but I did not think it would be accom- 
 plished so easily. There is no doubt about his 
 feelings, my dear Mr. Lovel ; I know the man 
 thoroughly, and I never saw him pay any woman 
 attention before. Perhaps the poor fellow is scarcely 
 conscious of his own infatuation yet, but the fact 
 is no less certain. He has betrayed himself to me 
 ever so many times by little speeches he has let fall 
 about our dear Clary. I think even the daughter 
 begins to see it.' 
 
 1 And what then, my kind friend ?' asked Mr. 
 Lovel with an air of supreme indifference. ' Sup- 
 pose this fancy of yours to be correct, do you think 
 Clarissa would marry the man ?' 
 
 ' I do not think she would be so foolish as to 
 refuse him,' Lady Laura answered quickly ; ' unless 
 there were some previous infatuation on her side.' 
 
 ' You need have no apprehension of that,' re- 
 turned Mr. Lovel sharply. ' Clarissa has never had 
 the opportunity for so much as a flirtation.'
 
 276 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Lady Laura remembered that scene in the bal- 
 cony with a doubtful feeling. 
 
 1 1 hope she would have some regard for her own 
 interest,' she said thoughtfully. ' And if such an 
 opportunity as this were to present itself — as I feel 
 very sure it will — I hope your influence would be 
 exerted on the right side.' 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, my influence should be 
 exercised in any manner you desired,' replied Mr. 
 Lovel eagerly. ' You have been so good to that 
 poor friendless girl, that you have a kind of right to 
 dispose of her fate. Heaven forbid that I should 
 interfere with any plans you may have formed on 
 her behalf, except to promote them.' 
 
 1 It is so good of you to say that. I really am 
 so fond of my dear Clary, and it would so please 
 me to see her make a great marriage, such as this 
 would be. If Mr. Granger were not a good man, if 
 it were a mere question of money, I would not urge 
 it for a moment; but he really is in every way un- 
 exceptionable, and if you will give me your permis- 
 sion to use my influence with Clary — ' 
 
 ' My dear Lady Laura, as a woman, as a mother, 
 you are the fittest judge of what is best for the girl. 
 I leave her in your hands with entire confidence ;
 
 CHIEFLY PATERNAL. 277 
 
 and if you bring this marriage about, I shall say 
 Providence has been good to us. Yes, I confess I 
 should like to see my daughter mistress of Arden 
 Court.' 
 
 Almost as he spoke, there arose before him a 
 vision of what his own position would be if this 
 thing should come to pass. Was it really worth 
 wishing for at best ? Never again could he be mas- 
 ter of the home of his forefathers. An honoured 
 visitor perhaps, or a tolerated inmate — that was all. 
 Still, it would be something to have his daughter 
 married to a rich man. He had a growing, almost 
 desperate need of some wealthy friend who should 
 stretch out a saving hand between him and his fast- 
 accumulating difficulties ; and who so fitted for this 
 office as a son-in-law ? Yes, upon the whole, the 
 thing was worth wishing for. 
 
 He bade Lady Laura good-night, declaring that 
 this brief glimpse of the civilised world had been 
 strangely agreeable to him. He even promised to 
 dine at the Castle again before long, and so de- 
 parted, after kissing his daughter almost affection- 
 ately, in a better humour with himself and mankind 
 than had been common to him lately. 
 
 ' So that is young Fairfax,' he said to himself
 
 278 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 as he jogged slowly homeward in the Arden fly, 
 the single vehicle of that kind at the disposal of the 
 village gentility ; ' so that is the son of Temple Fair- 
 fax. There is a look of his father in his eyes, hut 
 not that look of wicked power in his face that there 
 was in the Colonel's — not that thorough stamp of 
 a bold bad man. It will come, I suppose, in good 
 time.'
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LORD CALDERWOOD IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 
 
 The preparations for the wedding went on gaily, and 
 whatever inclination to revolt may have lurked in 
 George Fairfax's breast, he made no sign. Since 
 his insolent address that night in the corridor he had 
 scarcely spoken to Clarissa ; but he kept a furtive 
 watch upon her notwithstanding, and she knew it, and 
 sickened under it as under an evil influence. He was 
 very angry with her — she was fully conscious of that 
 — unjustifiably, unreasonably angry. More than once, 
 when Mr. Granger was especially attentive, she had 
 encountered a withering glance from those dark gray 
 eyes, and she had been weak enough, wicked enough 
 perhaps, to try and make him perceive that Mr. 
 Granger's attentions were in no way pleasant to her. 
 She could bear anything better than that he should 
 think her capable of courting this man's admiration.
 
 280 THE LOVELS OF AEDEN. 
 
 She told herself sometimes that it would be an un- 
 speakable relief to her when the marriage was over, 
 and George Fairfax had gone away from Hale Castle, 
 and out of her life for evermore; and then, while 
 she was trying to believe this, the thought would 
 come to her of what her life would be utterly without 
 him, with no hope of ever seeing him again, with the 
 bitter necessity of remembering him only as Lady 
 Geraldine's husband. She loved him, and knew that 
 she loved him. To hear his voice, to be in the same 
 room with him, caused her a bitter kind of joy, a 
 something that was sweeter than common pleasure, 
 keener than common pain. His presence, were he 
 ever so silent or angry, gave colour to her life, and 
 to realise the dull blankness of a life without him 
 seemed impossible. 
 
 While this silent struggle was going on, and the 
 date of the marriage growing nearer and nearer, Mr. 
 Granger's attentions became daily more -marked. It 
 was impossible even for Clarissa, preoccupied as she 
 was by those other thoughts, to doubt that he ad- 
 mired her with something more than common admira- 
 tion. Miss Granger's evident uneasiness and anger 
 were in themselves sufficient to give emphasis to this 
 fact. That young lady, mistress of herself as she
 
 CA.LDERW00D IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 281 
 
 was upon most occasions, found the present state of 
 things too much for her endurance. For the last 
 ten years of her life, ever since she was a precocious 
 damsel of twelve, brought to a premature state of 
 cultivation by an expensive forcing apparatus of 
 governesses and masters, she had been in the habit 
 of assuring herself and her confidantes that her 
 father would never marry again. She had a very 
 keen sense of the importance of wealth, and from 
 that tender age, of twelve or so upwards, she had 
 been fully aware of the diminution her own position 
 would undergo in the event of a second marriage, 
 and the advent of a son to the house of Granger. 
 Governesses and maidservants had perhaps impressed 
 this upon her at some still earlier stage of her exist- 
 ence ; but from this time upwards she had needed 
 nothing to remind her of the fact, and she had 
 watched her father with an unwearying vigilance. 
 
 More than once, strong-minded and practical as 
 he was, she had seen him in danger. Attractive 
 widows and dashing spinsters had marked him for 
 their prey, and he had seemed not quite adamant ; 
 but the hour of peril had passed, and the widow or 
 the spinster had gone her way, with all her munitions 
 of war expended, and Daniel Granger still unscathed.
 
 282 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 This time it was very different. Mr. Granger showed 
 an interest in Clarissa which he had never before ex- 
 hibited in any member of her sex since he wooed 
 and won the first Mrs. Granger; and as his mar- 
 riage had been by no means a romantic affair, but 
 rather a prudential arrangement made and entered 
 upon by Daniel Granger the elder, cloth-manufac- 
 turer of Leeds and Bradford, on the one part, and 
 Thomas Talloway, cotton-spinner of Manchester, on 
 the other part, it is doubtful whether Miss Sophy 
 Talloway had ever in her ante-nuptial days engrossed 
 so much of his attention. 
 
 Having no one else at Hale to whom she could 
 venture to unbosom herself, Miss Granger was fain 
 to make a confidante of her maid, although she did 
 not, as a general rule, affect familiarity with servants. 
 This maid, who was a mature damsel of five-and- 
 thirty or upwards, and a most estimable Church-of- 
 England person, had been with Miss Granger for a 
 great many years ; had curled her hair for her when 
 she wore it in a crop, and even remembered her in 
 her last edition of pinafores. Some degree of fami- 
 liarity therefore might be excused, and the formal 
 Sophia would now and then expand a little in her 
 intercourse with Warman.
 
 CALDERWOOD IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 283 
 
 One night, a very little while before Lady Geral- 
 dine's wedding-day, the cautious Warman, while 
 brushing Hiss Granger's hair, ventured to suggest 
 that her mistress looked out of spirits. Had she 
 said that Sophia looked excessively cross, she would 
 scarcely have been beside the mark. 
 
 1 "Well, Warman,' Miss Granger replied, in rather 
 a shrewish tone, ' I am out of spirits. I have been 
 very much annoyed this evening by papa's attentions 
 to — by the designing conduct of a young lady here.' 
 
 * I think I can guess who the young lady is, miss,' 
 Warman answered shrewdly. 
 
 ' 0, I suppose so,' cried Sophia, giving her head 
 an angry jerk which almost sent the brush out of 
 her abigail's hand ; ' servants know everything.' 
 
 1 Well, you see, miss, servants have eyes and 
 ears, and they can't very well help using them. 
 People think we're inquisitive and prying if we ven- 
 ture to see things going on under our very noses ; 
 and so hypocrisy gets to be almost part of a servant's 
 education, and what people call a good servant is a 
 smooth-faced creature that pretends to see nothing 
 and to understand nothing. But my principles won't 
 allow of my stooping to that sort of thing, Miss 
 Granger, and what I think I say. I know my duty
 
 284 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 as a servant, and I know the value of my own im- 
 mortal soul as a human being.' 
 
 ' How you do preach, Warman ! Who wants you 
 to be a hypocrite?' exclaimed Sophia impatiently. 
 ' It's always provoking to hear that one's affairs have 
 been talked over by a herd of servants, but I suppose 
 it's inevitable. And pray, what have they been say- 
 ing about papa ?' 
 
 ' Well, miss, I've heard a good deal of talk of 
 one kind and another. You see, your papa is looked 
 upon as a great gentleman in the county, and people 
 will talk about him. There's Norris, Lady Laura's 
 own footman, who's a good deal in the drawing-room 
 — really a very intelligent well-brought-up young 
 man, and, I am happy to say, not a dissenter. Norris 
 takes a good deal of notice of what's going on, and 
 he has made a good many remarks upon your par's 
 attention to Miss Lovel. Looking at the position of 
 the parties, you see, miss, it would be such a curious 
 thing if it was to be brought round for that young- 
 lady to be mistress of Arden Court.' 
 
 ' Good gracious me, Warman !' cried Sophia aghast, 
 ' you don't suppose that papa would marry again ?' 
 
 ' Well, I can't really say, miss. But when a gen- 
 tleman of your par's age pays so much attention to a
 
 CALDERW00D IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 285 
 
 lady young enough to be his daughter, it generally do 
 end that way.' 
 
 There was evidently no consolation to be obtained 
 from Warman, nor was that astute handmaiden to be 
 betrayed into any expression of opinion against Miss 
 Lovel. It seemed to her more than probable that 
 Clarissa Lovel might come before long to reign over 
 the household at Arden, and the all-powerful Sophia 
 sink to a minor position. Strong language of any 
 kind was therefore likely to be dangerous. Hannah 
 Warman valued her place, which was a good one, and 
 would perhaps be still better under a more impulsive 
 and generous mistress. The safest thing therefore 
 was to close the conversation with one of those pious 
 platitudes which Warman had always at her com- 
 mand. 
 
 1 Whatever may happen, miss, we are in the 
 hands of Providence,' she said solemnly; ' and let 
 us trust that things will be so regulated as to work 
 for the good of our immortal souls. Xo one can go 
 through life without trials, miss, and perhaps yours 
 may be coming upon you now ; but we know that 
 such chastisements are intended for our benefit.' 
 
 Sophia Granger had encouraged this kind of talk 
 from the lips of Warman, and other humble disciples,
 
 286 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 too often to be able to object to it just now ; but her 
 temper was by no means improved by this conversa- 
 tion, and she dismissed her maid presently with a 
 very cool good-night. 
 
 On the third day before the wedding, George 
 Fairfax's mother arrived at the Castle, in order to 
 assist in this important event in her son's life. Cla- 
 rissa contemplated this lady with a peculiar interest, 
 and was not a little wounded by the strange coldness 
 with which Mrs. Fairfax greeted her upon her being 
 introduced by Lady Laura to the new arrival. This 
 coldness was all the more striking on account of the 
 perfect urbanity of Mrs. Fairfax's manners in a gen- 
 eral way, and a certain winning gentleness which 
 distinguished her on most occasions. It seemed to 
 Clarissa as if she recoiled with something like aver- 
 sion at the sound of her name. 
 
 ' Miss Lovel of Arden Court, I believe ?' she said, 
 looking at Lady Laura. 
 
 ' Yes ; my dear Clarissa is the only daughter of 
 the gentleman who till lately was owner of Arden 
 Court. It has passed into other hands now.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon. I did not know there had 
 been any change.'
 
 CALDERW00D IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 287 
 
 And then Mrs. Fairfax continued her previous 
 conversation with Lady Laura, as if anxious to have 
 done with the subject of Miss Lovel. 
 
 Nor in the three days before the wedding did she 
 take any farther notice of Clarissa ; a neglect the girl 
 felt keenly; all the more so because she was in- 
 terested in spite of herself in this pale faded lady of 
 fifty, who still bore the traces of great beauty, and 
 who carried herself with the grace of a queen. She 
 had that air du faubourg which we hear of in the 
 great ladies of a departed era in Parisian society, — a 
 serene and tranquil elegance which never tries to be 
 elegant, a perfect self-possession which never degene- 
 rates into insolence. 
 
 In a party so large as that now assembled at 
 Hale, this tacit avoidance of one person could scarcely 
 be called a rudeness. It might so easily be acci- 
 dental. Clarissa felt it nevertheless, and felt some- 
 how that it was not accidental. Though she could 
 never be anything to George Fairfax, though all pos- 
 sibility even of friendship was at an end between 
 them, she would have liked to gain his mother's 
 regard. It was an idle wish perhaps, but scarcely 
 an unnatural one. 
 
 She watched Mrs. Fairfax and Lady Geraldine
 
 288 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 together. The affection between those two was very 
 evident. Never did the younger lady appear to greater 
 advantage than in her intercourse with her future 
 mother-in-law. All pride and coldness vanished in 
 that society, and Geraldine Challoner became genial 
 and womanly. 
 
 ' She has played her cards well,' Barbara Fermor 
 said maliciously. ' It is the mother who has brought 
 about this marriage.' 
 
 If Mrs. Fairfax showed herself coldly disposed 
 towards Clarissa, there was plenty of warmth on the 
 parts of the Ladies Emily and Louisa Challoner, who 
 arrived at the Castle about the same time, and at 
 once took a fancy to their sister's protegee. 
 
 'Laura has told us so much about you, Miss 
 Lovel,' said Lady Louisa, ' and we mean to be very 
 fond of you, if you will allow us ; and, 0, please may 
 we call you Clarissa ? It is such a sweet name !' 
 
 Both these ladies had passed that fearful turning- 
 point in woman's life, her thirtieth birthday, and had 
 become only more gushing and enthusiastic with in- 
 creasing years. They were very much like Lady 
 Laura, had all her easy goodnature and liveliness, 
 and were more or less afraid of the stately Geraldine. 
 
 ' Do you know, we are quite glad she is going to
 
 CALDERW00D IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 289 
 
 be married at last/ Lady Emily said in a confi- 
 dential tone to Clarissa ; ' for she has kept up a kind 
 of frigid atmosphere at home that I really believe has 
 helped to frighten away all our admirers. Men of 
 the present day don't like that kind of thing. It 
 went out of fashion in England with King Charles I., 
 I think, and in France with Louis XIV. You know 
 how badly the royal household behaved coming home 
 from his funeral, laughing and talking and all that : 
 I believe it arose from their relief at thinking that the 
 king of forms and ceremonies was dead. We always 
 have our nicest little parties — kettledrums, and sup- 
 pers after the opera, and that sort of thing — when 
 Geraldine is away; for we can do anything with 
 papa.' 
 
 The great day came, and the heavens were propi- 
 tious. A fine clear September day, with a cool wind 
 and a warm sun : a day upon which the diaphanous 
 costumes of the bridesmaids might be a shade too 
 airy ; but not a stern or cruel day, to tinge their 
 young noses with a frosty hue, or blow the crinkles 
 out of their luxuriant hair. 
 
 The bridesmaids were the Ladies Emily and 
 Louisa Challoner, the two Miss Fermors, Miss Gran- 
 ger, and Clarissa — six in all ; a moderation which 
 
 vol. i. u
 
 290 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Lady Laura was inclined to boast of as a kind of 
 Spartan simplicity. They were all to be dressed 
 alike, in white, with bonnets that seemed composed 
 of waxen-looking white heather and tremulous hare- 
 bells, and with blue sashes to match the harebells. 
 The dresses were Lady Laura's inspiration : they had 
 come to her almost in her sleep, she declared, when 
 she had well-nigh despaired of realising her vague 
 desires; and Clarissa's costume was, like the ball- 
 dress, a present from her benefactress. 
 
 The nine-o'clock breakfast — a meal that began at 
 nine and rarely ended till eleven — was hurried over 
 in the most uncomfortable and desultory manner on 
 this eventful morning. The principals in the great 
 drama did not appear at all, and Clarissa and Miss 
 Granger were the only two bridesmaids who could 
 spare half an hour from the cares of the toilet. The 
 rest breakfasted in the seclusion of their several 
 apartments, with their hair in crimping-pins. Miss 
 Granger was too perfect a being to crinkle her hair, 
 or to waste three hours on dressing, even for a wed- 
 ding. Lady Laura showed herself among her guests, 
 for a quarter of an hour or so, in a semi-hysterical 
 nutter ; so anxious that everything should go off well, 
 so fearful that something might happen, she knew
 
 CALDERWOOD IS THE CAUSE OF IXCOXVEXIEXCE. 291 
 
 not what, to throw the machinery of her arrange- 
 ments out of gear. 
 
 ' I suppose it's only a natural feeling on such an 
 occasion as this,' she said, 'but I really do feel as if 
 something were going to happen. Things haye gone 
 on so smoothly up to this morning — no disappoint- 
 ments from milliners, no stupid mistakes on the 
 part of those railway people — everything has gone 
 upon velvet ; and now it is coming to the crisis I am 
 quite nervous.' 
 
 Of course every one declared that this was per- 
 fectly natural, and recommended his or her favourite 
 specific — a few drops of sal-volatile — a liqueur- glass 
 of dry curacoa — red lavender — chlorodyne — and so 
 on ; and then Lady Laura laughed and called herself 
 absurd, and hurried away to array herself in a pearl- 
 coloured silk, half smothered by puffings of pale pink 
 areophane and Brussels-lace flounces ; a dress that 
 was all pearly gray and rose and white, like the sky 
 at early morning. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong, Mr. Granger, with some military 
 men and country squires, took their breakfast as 
 calmly as if a wedding were part of the daily business 
 of life. Miss Granger exhibited a polite indifference 
 about the great event ; Miss Lovel was pale and ner-
 
 292 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 vous, not able to give much attention to Daniel Gran- 
 ger, who had contrived to sit next her that morning, 
 and talked to her a good deal, with an apparent un- 
 consciousness of the severe gaze of his daughter, 
 seated exactly opposite to him. 
 
 Clarissa was glad to make her toilet an excuse for 
 leaving Mr. Granger ; hut once in the sanctuary of 
 her own room, she sat down in an absent manner, 
 and made no attempt to begin dressing. Fosset, the 
 maid, found her there at a quarter past ten o'clock — 
 the ceremony was to take place at eleven — and gave 
 a cry of horror at seeing the toilet uncommenced. 
 
 * Good gracious me, miss ! what have you been 
 thinking of ? Your hair not begun nor nothing ! 
 I've been almost torn to bits with one and another — 
 Miss Fermor's maid bothering for long hair-pins and 
 narrow black ribbon ; and Jane Eoberts — Lady Emily 
 Challoner's maid — who really never has anything 
 handy, wanting half the things out of my work-box — 
 or I should have been with you ever so long ago. My 
 lady would be in a fine way if you were late.' 
 
 ' I think my hair will do very well as it is, Fosset,' 
 Clarissa said listlessly. 
 
 'Lor, no, miss; not in that dowdy style. It 
 don't half show it off.'
 
 CALDERW00D IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 293 
 
 Clarissa seated herself before the dressing-table 
 with an air of resignation rather than interest, and 
 the expeditious Fosset began her work. It was done 
 very speedily — that wealth of hair was so easy to 
 dress ; there was no artful manipulation of long hair- 
 pins and black ribbon needed to unite borrowed 
 tresses with real ones. The dress was put on, and 
 Clarissa was invited to look at herself in the cheval- 
 glass. 
 
 ' I do wish you had a bit more colour in your 
 cheeks to-day, miss,' Fosset said, with rather a vexed 
 air. ' Not that I'd recommend you any of their vinegar 
 rouges, or ineffaceable blooms, or am'thing of that 
 kind. But I don't think I ever saw you look so pale. 
 One would think you were going to be married, in- 
 stead of Lady Geraldine. Site's as cool as a cucum- 
 ber this morning, Sarah Thompson told me just now. 
 You can't put her out easily.' 
 
 The carriages were driving up to the great door 
 by this time. It was about twenty minutes to eleven, 
 and in ten minutes more the procession would be 
 starting. Hale church was within five minutes' drive 
 of the Castle. 
 
 Clarissa went fluttering down to the drawing-room, 
 where she supposed people would assemble. There
 
 294 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 was no one there but Mr. Granger, who was stalking 
 up and down the spacious room, dressed in the newest 
 and stiffest of coats and waistcoats, and looking as if 
 he were going to assist at a private hanging. Miss 
 Lovel felt almost inclined to run away at sight of him. 
 The man seemed to pursue her somehow; and since 
 that night when George Fairfax had offered her his 
 mocking congratulations, Mr. Granger's attentions 
 had been particularly repugnant to her. 
 
 She could not draw back, however, without posi- 
 tive rudeness, and it was only a question of five 
 minutes ; so she went in and entered upon an inter- 
 esting little conversation about the weather. It was 
 still fine ; there was no appearance of rain ; a most 
 auspicious day, really ; and so on, — from Mr. Gran- 
 ger; to which novel remarks Clarissa assented 
 meekly. 
 
 ' There are people who attach a good deal of sig- 
 nificance to that kind of thing,' he said presently. 
 ' For my own part, if I were going to be married to 
 the woman I loved, I should care little how black the 
 sky above us might be. That sounds rather romantic 
 for me, doesn't it ? A man of fifty has no right to 
 feel like that.' 
 
 This he said with a half-bitter laugh. Clarissa
 
 CALDERWOOD IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 295 
 
 was spared the trouble of answering by the entrance 
 of more bridesmaids — Lady Louisa Challoner and 
 Miss Granger — with three of the military men, who 
 wore hothouse flowers in their button-holes, and were 
 altogether arrayed like the lilies of the field, but who 
 had rather the air of considering this marriage busi- 
 ness a tiresome interruption to the partridge-shooting. 
 
 ' I suppose we are going to start directly,' cried 
 Lady Louisa, who was a fluttering creature of three - 
 and-thirty, always eager to flit from one scene to 
 another. ' If we don't, I really think we shall be 
 late — and there is some dreadful law, isn't there, to 
 prevent people being married after eleven o'clock ?' 
 
 ' After twelve,' Mr. Granger answered in his mat- 
 ter-of-fact way. ' Lady Geraldine has ample margin 
 for delay.' 
 
 ' But why not after twelve ?' asked Lady Louisa 
 with a childish air; 'why not in the afternoon or 
 evening, if one liked ? "What can be the use of such 
 a ridiculous law? One might as well live in Eussia.' 
 
 She fluttered to one of the windows and looked 
 out. 
 
 1 There are all the carriages. How well the men 
 look ! Laura must have spent a fortune in white 
 ribbon and gloves for them — and the horses, dear
 
 296 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 things !' — a woman of Lady Louisa's stamp is gene- 
 rally enthusiastic about horses, it is such a safe 
 thing — ' they look as if they knew it was a wedding. 
 O, good gracious !' 
 
 ' What is the matter, Lady Louisa ?' 
 
 ' A man from the railway — with a telegram — yes, 
 I am sure it's a telegram ! Do you know, I have 
 such a horror of telegrams ! I always fancy they 
 mean illness — or death — or something dreadful. 
 Very absurd of me, isn't it ? And I daresay this is 
 only a message about some delayed parcel, or some 
 one who was to be here and can't come, or something 
 of that kind.' 
 
 The room was full of idle people by this time. 
 Every one went to the open window and stared down 
 at the man who had brought the telegram. He had 
 given his message, and was standing on the broad 
 flight of steps before the Castle door, waiting for the 
 return of the official who had taken it. Whether the 
 electric wires had brought the tidings of some great 
 calamity, or a milliner's apology for a delayed bonnet, 
 was impossible to guess. The messenger stood there 
 stolid and impenetrable, and there was nothing to be 
 divined from his aspect. 
 
 But presently, while a vague anxiety possessed
 
 CALDERWOOD IS THE CAUSE OF INCONVENIENCE. 297 
 
 almost every one present, there came from the stair- 
 case without a sudden cry of woe — a woman's shriek, 
 long and shrill, ominous as the wail of the "banshee. 
 There was a rush to the door, and the women crowded 
 out in a distracted way. Lady Laura was fainting in 
 her husband's arms, and George Fairfax was stand- 
 ing near her reading a telegram. 
 
 People had not long to wait for the eYil news. 
 Lord Calderwood had been seized with a paralytic- 
 stroke — his third attack — at ten o'clock the previous 
 night, and had expired at half-past eight that morn- 
 ing. There could be no wedding that day — nor for 
 many days and weeks to come. 
 
 1 0, Geraldine, my poor Geraldine, let me go to 
 lier !' cried Lady Laura, disengaging herself from her 
 husband's arms and rushing upstairs. Mr. Armstrong 
 hurried after her. 
 
 'Laura, my sweet girl, don't agitate yourself; 
 consider yourself,' he cried, and followed, with Lady 
 Louisa sobbing and wailing behind him. Geraldine 
 Md not left her room yet. The ill news was to find 
 lier on the threshold, calm and lovely in the splendour 
 of her bridal dress.
 
 CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 1 'tis deepest winter in lord timon's purse.' 
 
 Before nightfall — before the evening which was to 
 have been enlivened by a dinner-party and a carpet- 
 dance, and while bride and bridegroom should have 
 been speeding southwards to that noble Kentish man- 
 sion which his uncle had lent George Fairfax — before 
 the rooks flew homeward across the woods beyond 
 Hale — there had been a general flight from the Castle. 
 People were anxious to leave the mourners alone with 
 their grief, and even the most intimate felt more or 
 less in the way, though Mr. Armstrong entreated 
 that there might be no hurry, no inconvenience for 
 any one. 
 
 ' Poor Laura won't be fit to be seen for a day or 
 two,' he said, ' and of course I shall have to go up to 
 town for the funeral ; but that need make no differ- 
 ence. Hale is large enough for every one, and it will
 
 'tis deepest winter in lord timon's purse. 299 
 
 be a comfort to her by and by to find her friends 
 round her.' 
 
 Through all that dreary day Lady Laura wandered 
 about her morning-room, alternately sobbing and talk- 
 ing of her father to those chosen friends with whom 
 she held little interviews. 
 
 Her sisters Louisa and Emily were with her for 
 the greater part of the time, echoing her lamenta- 
 tions like a feeble chorus. Geraldine kept her room, 
 and would see no one — not even him who was to 
 have been her bridegroom, and who might have sup- 
 posed that he had the chiefest right to console her 
 in this sudden affliction. 
 
 Clarissa spent more than an hour with Lady Laura, 
 listening with a tender interest to her praises of the 
 departed. It seemed as if no elderly nobleman — more 
 or less impecunious for the last twenty years of his 
 life — had ever supported such a load of virtues as 
 Lord Calderwood had carried with him to the grave. 
 To praise him inordinately was the only consolation 
 his three daughters could find in the first fervour of 
 their grief. Time was when they had been apt to 
 confess to one another that papa was occasionally 
 rather ' trying,' a vague expression which scarcely 
 involved a lapse of filial duty on the part of the
 
 300 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 grumbler. But to hear them to-day one would have 
 supposed that they had never been tried; that life 
 with Lord Calderwood in a small house in Chapel- 
 street, Mayfair, had been altogether a halcyon exist- 
 ence. 
 
 Clarissa listened reverently, believing implicitly in 
 the merits of the newly lost, and did her best to con- 
 sole her kind friend during the hour Mr. Armstrong 
 allowed her to spend with Lady Laura. At the end 
 of that time he came and solemnly fetched her away, 
 after a pathetic farewell. 
 
 ' You must come to me again, Clary, and very, 
 very soon,' said my lady, embracing her. ' I only 
 wish Fred would let you stay with me now. You 
 would be a great comfort.' 
 
 1 My dearest Lady Laura, it is better not. You 
 have your sisters.' 
 
 ' Yes, they are very good ; but I wanted you to 
 stay, Clary. I had such plans for you. 0, by the 
 bye, the Grangers will be going back to-day, I sup- 
 pose. Why should they not take you with them in 
 their great travelling carriage ? — Frederick, will you 
 arrange for the Grangers to take Clarissa home ?' 
 cried Lady Laura to her husband, who was hovering 
 near the door. In the midst of her grief my lady
 
 'tis deepest winter in lord tbion's purse. 301 
 
 brightened a little with the idea of managing some- 
 thing, even so small a matter as this. 
 
 1 Of course, my dear,' replied the affectionate Fred. 
 ' Granger shall take Miss Lovel home. And now I 
 must positively hurry her away; all this talk and 
 excitement is so bad for you.' 
 
 ' I must see the Fermors before they go. You'll 
 let me see the Fermors, Fred ?' 
 
 ' Well, well, I'll bring them just to say good-bye 
 — that's all. — Come along, Miss Lovel.' 
 
 Clarissa followed him through the corridor. 
 
 * 0, if you please, Mr. Armstrong,' she said, f I 
 did not like to worry Lady Laura, but I would so 
 much rather go home alone in a fly.' 
 
 c Nonsense ! the Grangers can take you. You 
 could have Laura's brougham, of course ; but if she 
 wants you to go with the Grangers, you must go. 
 Her word is law ; and she's sure to ask me about it 
 by and by. She's a wonderful woman ; thinks of 
 everything.' 
 
 They met Mr. and Miss Granger presently, dressed 
 for the journey. 
 
 1 0, if you please, Granger, I want you to take 
 Miss Lovel home in your carriage. You've plenty ot 
 room, I know.'
 
 302 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Sophia looked as if she would have liked to say 
 that there was no room, hut her father's face quite 
 flushed with pleasure. 
 
 'I shall he only too happy/ he said, 'if Miss Lovel 
 will trust herself to our care.' 
 
 'And perhaps you'll explain to her father what 
 has happened, and how sorry we are to lose her, and 
 so on.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear Armstrong. I shall make a 
 point of seeing Mr. Lovel in order to do so.' 
 
 So Clarissa had a seat in Mr. Granger's luxurious 
 carriage, the proprietor whereof sat opposite to her, 
 admiring the pale patrician face, and wondering a 
 little what that charm was which made it seem to him 
 more heautiful than any other countenance he had 
 ever looked upon. They did not talk much, Mr. 
 Granger only making a few stereotyped remarks ahout 
 the uncertainties of this life, or occasionally pointing 
 out some feature of the landscape to Clarissa. The 
 horses went at a splendid pace. Their owner would 
 have preferred a slower transit. 
 
 ' Kememher, Miss Lovel,' he said, as they ap- 
 proached the village of Arden, ' you have promised to 
 come and see us.'
 
 TIS DEEPEST WINTER IN LORD TIMON'S PURSE. 303 
 
 ' You are very good ; but I go out so little, aud 
 papa is always averse to my visiting.' 
 
 ' But he can't be that any more after allowing you 
 to stay at the Castle, or he will offend commoner folks, 
 like Sophy and me, by his exclusiveness. Besides, 
 he told me he wished Sophy and you to be good 
 friends. I am sure he will let you come to us. "When 
 shall it be? Shall we say to-morrow, before luncheon 
 — at twelve or one, say ? I will show you what I've 
 done for the house in the morning, and Sophy can take 
 you over her schools and cottages in the afternoon.' 
 
 Sophia Granger made no attempt to second this 
 proposition ; but her father was so eager and decisive, 
 that it seemed quite impossible for Clarissa to say no. 
 
 ' If papa will let me come, ' she said doubtfully. 
 
 ' 0, I'm quite sure he will not refuse, after what he 
 was good enough to say to me,' replied Mr. Granger; 
 ' and if he does not feel equal to going about with us 
 in the morning, I hope we shall be able to persuade 
 him to come to dinner.' 
 
 They were at the little rustic gate before Mill 
 Cottage by this time. How small the place looked 
 after Hale Castle ! but not without a prettiness of its 
 own. The Virginia creeper was reddening on the wall ; 
 the casement windows open to the air and sunshine.
 
 304 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 Ponto ran out directly the gate was opened — first to 
 bark at the carnage, and then to leap joyously about 
 Clarissa, overpowering her with a fond canine wel- 
 come. 
 
 'You'll come in with us, Sophia?' asked Mr. 
 Granger, when he had alighted, and handed Clarissa 
 out of the carriage. 
 
 ' I think not, papa. You can't want me; and this 
 dreadful morning has given me a wretched headache/ 
 
 ' I thought there was something amiss. It would 
 be more respectful to Mr. Lovel for you to come in. 
 I daresay he'll excuse you, however, when he hears 
 you are ill.' 
 
 Clarissa held out her hand, which Miss Granger 
 took with an almost obvious reluctance, and the two 
 young ladies said ' Good-bye' to each other, without 
 a word from Sophia about the engagement for the 
 next day. 
 
 They found Mr. Lovel in his favourite sitting- 
 room ; not dreaming over a Greek play or a volume of 
 Bentley, as it was his custom to do, but seriously en- 
 gaged with a number of open letters and papers scat- 
 tered on the writing-table before him — papers that 
 looked alarmingly like tradesmen's bills. He was 
 taken by surprise on the entrance of Clarissa and her
 
 'tis deepest winter in lord timon's purse. 305 
 
 companion, and swept the papers into an open drawer 
 with rather a nervous hand. 
 
 ' My dear Clarissa, this is quite unexpected ! — 
 How do you do, Mr. Granger ? How very good of 
 you to hring my little girl over to see me ! Will you 
 take that chair hy the window ? I was deep in a file 
 of accounts when you came in. A man must examine 
 his affairs sometimes, however small his household 
 may he. — Well, Clary, what news of our kind friends 
 at the Castle? Why, bless my soul, this is the 
 wedding-day, isn't it ? I had quite forgotten the date . 
 Has anything happened ?' 
 
 ' Yes, papa ; there has been a great misfortune, 
 and the wedding is put off.' 
 
 Between them, Mr. Granger and Clarissa ex- 
 plained the state of affairs at the Castle. Mr. Lovel 
 seemed really shocked by the intelligence of the 
 Earl's death. 
 
 1 Poor Calderwood ! He and I were great friends 
 thirty years ago. I suppose it's nearly twenty since 
 I last saw him. He was one of the handsomest men 
 I ever knew — Lady Geraldine takes after him — and 
 when he was in the diplomatic service had really a 
 very brilliant career before him ; but he missed it 
 somehow. Had always rather a frivolous mind, I fancy, 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 306 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 and a want of perseverance. Poor Calderwood ! And 
 so he is gone ! How old could he have heen ? Not 
 much over sixty, I believe. I'll look into Debrett 
 presently.' 
 
 As soon as he could decently do so after this, Mr. 
 Granger urged his invitation for the next day. 
 
 1 0, certainly, by all means. Clary shall come to 
 you as early as you like. It will be a great relief for 
 her from the dulness of this place. And — well — yes, 
 if you insist upon it, I'll join you at dinner. But you 
 see what a perfect recluse I am. There will be no 
 one else, I suppose ?' 
 
 ' You have only to say that you wish it, and there 
 shall be no one else,' Mr. Granger replied courteously. 
 
 Never had he been so anxious to propitiate any 
 one. People had courted him more or less all his 
 life ; and here he was almost suing for the acquaint- 
 ance of this broken-down spendthrift — a man whom 
 he had secretly despised until now. 
 
 On this assurance Mr. Lovel consented to dine 
 with his neighbour for the first time; and Mr. 
 Granger, having no excuse for farther lingering, took 
 his departure, remembering all at once that he had 
 such a thing as a daughter waiting for him in the 
 carriage outside.
 
 'tis deepest winter in lord tdiox's purse. 307 
 
 He went, and Clarissa took up the thread of her 
 old life just where she had dropped it. Her father 
 was by no means so gracious or agreeable to-day as 
 he had been during his brief visit to Hale Castle. 
 He took out his tradesmen's letters and bills when 
 Mr. Granger was gone, and went on with his exa- 
 mination of them, groaning aloud now and then, or 
 sometimes stopping to rest his head on his hands 
 with a dreary long-drawn sigh. Clarissa would have 
 been very glad to offer her sympathy, to utter some 
 word of comfort; but there was something in her 
 father's aspect which forbade any injudicious ap- 
 proach. She sat by the open window with a book 
 in her hand, but not reading, waiting patiently in 
 the hope that he would share his troubles with her 
 by and by. 
 
 He went on with his work for about an hour, and 
 then tied the papers in a bundle with an impatient air. 
 
 ' Arithmetic is no use in such a case as mine,' he 
 said ; ' no man can make fifty pounds pay a hundred. 
 I suppose it must end in the bankruptcy court. It 
 will be only our last humiliation, the culminating 
 disgrace.' 
 
 ' The bankruptcy court ! 0, papa !' cried Clarissa 
 piteously.
 
 308 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 She had a very vague idea as to what bankruptcy 
 meant, but felt that it was something unutterably 
 shameful — the next thing to a criminal offence. 
 
 'Better men than I have gone through it,' Mr. 
 Lovel went on with a sigh, and without the faintest 
 notice of his daughter's dismay ; ' but I couldn't 
 stand Arden and Holborough after that degradation. 
 I must go abroad, to some dull old town in the south 
 of France, where I could have my books and decent 
 wine, and where, as regards everything else, I should 
 be in a living grave.' 
 
 ' But they would never make you bankrupt surely, 
 papa !' Clarissa exclaimed in the same piteous tone. 
 
 ' They would never make me bankrupt !' echoed 
 her father fretfully. ' What do you mean by they 1 
 You talk like a baby, Clarissa. Do you suppose that 
 tradesmen and bankers and bill-discounters would 
 have more mercy upon me than upon other people ? 
 They may give me more time than they would give 
 another man, perhaps, because they know I have 
 some pride of race, and would coin my heart's blood 
 rather than adopt expedients that other men make 
 light of; but when they know there is no more to be 
 got out of me, they will do their worst. It is only a 
 question of time.'
 
 'tis deepest winter en lord ttmon's purse. 309 
 
 ' Are you very much in debt, papa ?' Clarissa 
 asked timidly, anticipating a rebuff. 
 
 1 Xo ; that is the most confounded part of the 
 business. My liabilities only amount to a few pitiful 
 hundreds. When I sold Arden — and I did not do 
 that till I was obliged, you may believe — the bulk of 
 the purchase-money went to the mortgagees. With 
 the residue — a paltry sum — I bought myself an an- 
 nuity; a transaction which I was able to conclude 
 upon better terms than most men of my age, on ac- 
 count of my precarious health, and to which I was 
 most strongly urged by my legal advisers. On this 
 I have existed, or tried to exist, ever since ; but the 
 income has not been sufficient even for the main- 
 tenance of this narrow household ; if I lived in a 
 garret, I must live like a gentleman, and should be 
 always at the mercy of my servants. These are 
 honest enough, I daresay, but I have no power of 
 checking my expenditure. And then I had your 
 schooling to pay for — no small amount, I assure 
 you.' 
 
 ' Thank heaven that is over, papa ! And now, if 
 you would only let me go out as a governess, I might 
 be some help to you instead of a burden.' 
 
 ' There's time enough to think of that. You are
 
 310 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 not much of a burden to me at present. I don't sup- 
 pose you add many pounds a year to the expenses of 
 this house. And if I have to face the inevitable, and 
 see my name in the Gazette, we must begin life again 
 upon a smaller scale, and in a cheaper place — some 
 out-of-the-way corner of France or Belgium. The 
 governess notion will keep till I am dead. You can 
 always be of some use to me as a companion, if you 
 choose.' 
 
 This was quite a concession. Clarissa came over 
 to her father's chair, and laid her hand caressingly 
 upon his shoulder, 
 
 ' My clear father,' she said in a low sweet voice, 
 'you make me almost happy, in spite of our troubles. 
 I wish for nothing better than to stay with you al- 
 ways. And by and by, if we have to live abroad, 
 where you need not be so particular about our name, 
 I may be able to help you a little — by means of art 
 or music — without leaving home. I think I could be 
 happy anywhere with you, papa, if you would only 
 love me a little.' 
 
 That appeal touched a heart not easily moved. 
 Marmaduke Lovel put his hand — such a slender 
 feminine hand — into his daughter's with an affec- 
 tionate pressure.
 
 'tis deepest winter in lord temon's purse. 311 
 
 'Poor child!' he said sadly. ' It would be hard 
 if I couldn't love you a little. But you were born 
 under an evil star, Clarissa ; and hitherto perhaps I 
 have tried to shut my heart against you. I won't do 
 that any more. Whatever affection is in me to give 
 shall be yours. God knows I have no reason to with- 
 hold it, nor any other creature on this earth on whom 
 to bestow it. God knows it is a new thing for me to 
 have my love sued for.' 
 
 There was a melancholy in his tone which touched 
 his daughter deeply. He seemed to have struck the 
 key-note of his life in those few words; a disap- 
 pointed unsuccessful life ; a youth in which there 
 had been some hidden cause for the ungenial temper 
 of his middle age. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock by this time, and Cla- 
 rissa strolled into the garden with her father while 
 the table was being laid for dinner. There were faint 
 glimpses of russet here and there among the woods 
 around Arden Court, but it still seemed summer 
 time. The late roses were in full bloom in Mr. 
 Lovel's fertile garden, the rosy apples were brighten- 
 ing in the orchard, the plums purpling on a crumb- 
 ling old red-brick wall that bounded the narrow patch 
 of kitchen-garden. Yes, even after Hale Castle the
 
 312 THE LOVELS OF ARDEN. 
 
 place seemed pretty ; and a pang went through Cla- 
 rissa's heart, as she thought that this too they might 
 have to leave ; even this humble home was not secure 
 to them. 
 
 Father and daughter dined together very plea- 
 santly. Clarissa had been made almost happy by her 
 father's unwonted tenderness, and Mr. Lovel was in 
 tolerable spirits, in spite of that dreary afternoon's 
 labour, that hopeless task of trying to find out some 
 elastic quality in pounds, shillings, and pence. 
 
 END OF VOL. i. 
 
 London: 
 
 SOBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. 
 
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