LI E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVER.SITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 ■5.1. 

 
 
 ^^^2^^^ 
 
 /-//'y^ 
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CROWN-HARDEX. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. FULLER 
 
 ' Crystal buhblci 
 Pharni w* at onrr awav fruni all otir troulilrv.' 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT. PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 187;^. 
 
 Jll riijhts raertei.
 
 9^3 
 V. \ 
 
 
 CROWN-HARDEN, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 . fTlHE mansion of Crown-Harden could 
 
 ffl boast neither of the picturesque arclii- 
 
 /^ tecture of an Elizabethan structure, nor of 
 
 ^ the finished elegance of many of the white 
 
 ^ stone Palladian edifices that adorn the 
 
 'i^ parks and hills of our English counties ; 
 
 ^ to tell the truth it rather bore the aspect 
 
 -^ of a building of the time of Queen Anne 
 
 / or the early Georges, when taste had 
 
 ^ deteriorated, losing the richness of earlier 
 
 pi? date, without gaining the purity of classic 
 
 ^ art. There was generally something bald 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 CHOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and mean in the productions of that 
 period, yet in this instance an air of 
 comfort and substance gave a pleasant 
 impression to the passer-by. 
 
 It was a large, solid, square, red brick 
 Louse, toned down by time sufficiently to 
 harmonize agreeably with the green turf 
 and the surrounding trees. The dark red 
 hae of the walls was relieved by stone 
 facings; in front, a wide flight of steps 
 led up to the door, two semi-circular 
 projections on each side formed bay- 
 windows for both the lower and upper 
 stories ; the middle space between was 
 spanned by what was meant to repre- 
 sent a portico, resembling a wide circum- 
 flex accent also in white stone. 
 
 Crown-Harden turned its back on the 
 wild mountainous country behind it, and 
 its front to a broad fertile level, which, 
 at the moment the story begins, lay rich 
 and warm, sunning itself under a June 
 sky, the picture of wealth and prosperity,
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 3 
 
 while the shadowed, rugged mountain 
 land behind, with all its beauty and 
 grandeur, only presented a cold view when 
 seen from the back premises of the place, as 
 if its commercial and mercantile instincts 
 harmonized better with the riches than with 
 the poetical sublimities of nature. This 
 character was heightened by the arrange- 
 ments of the grounds and gardens, which 
 possessed, however, attractions of their 
 own. The avenues of lime-trees were 
 clipped into formal arcades, the broad 
 gravel walks, firm and flat as pavement, 
 were straight, the flower-beds were cut 
 into exact mathematical figures, each 
 red, blue, or yellow — all undisguised, 
 and clear as accounts in a ledger, where 
 any attempt at escape or concealment 
 would have been impossible ; a fairy 
 could scarcely have found a corner to 
 hide herself in. Yet there was a beauty 
 in the care and perfect neatness with 
 which all was finished, combined with 
 
 B 2
 
 4 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 the brilliancy of the flowers, the flourish- 
 ing verdure of the foliage, the velvety 
 softness of the turf. Every part was in 
 such admirable keeping, you hardly 
 wished it otherwise ; a belle in hoop and 
 farthingale, precise and pretty, with each 
 curl plastered in its place, powdered, 
 patched, and rouged, may not compare 
 with a Grecian nymph, yet she may be 
 admired. 
 
 This mansion and estate had once be- 
 longed to the Crown, as its name indi- 
 cated, and princes and princesses had 
 once been its owners and its occupants ; 
 all that remained of the ancient dwelling 
 was a single tall, round tower, placed 
 high on a rock among the crags and 
 wood behind, to which access was gained 
 by a neglected shrubbery walk. 
 
 The present owner of the domain was 
 now, after an early breakfast, walking 
 about his garden, peering busily into 
 every nook and corner, in case an un-
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. O 
 
 lucky gardener's boy should have left 
 some forgotten hoe or watering pot in 
 remote or undue situations, or lest any 
 such act of disorder should be detected. 
 
 He was an elderly gentleman, in a 
 scrupulously neat but slightly old- 
 fashioned attire, and by no means pre- 
 possessing in appearance, by which ex- 
 pression we do not mean to imply the 
 slightest approach to brigand ferocity in 
 his countenance, or savage humour of 
 any kind whatever, but only that he 
 looked, as he really was, essentially com- 
 mon-place in every respect. 
 
 His morality was a copy-book morality, 
 his likings and dislikes exactly what the 
 world commends or disapproves. He 
 had no higher wishes than for uninter- 
 rupted comfort, and valued no one gift 
 from heaven in comparison with riches. 
 
 He, as well as two brothers and a 
 sister, were the children of a gentleman 
 of very moderate pretensions. One bro-
 
 6 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 ther had died youDg, leaving two 
 children ; the elder had studied for the 
 medical profession, but had soon engaged 
 in commerce, and having amassed consider- 
 able v^ealth by his industry, energy, and 
 fortunate speculations, he had died in 
 the East, leaving by a will all he pos- 
 sessed to his surviving brother, Nicholas 
 Conway, who on this accession of fortune 
 had retired from business, and had pur- 
 chased this excellent estate and handsome 
 mansion, which he had enlarged and 
 improved. It was the great interest of 
 his life, and his ambition was to leave it 
 and the adjoining property to one of his 
 name and blood. 
 
 On this estate stood the modest house 
 where his father and grandfather had 
 dwelt, and he felt a natural and excusable 
 pride in raising the name of Conway, an 
 ancient one in this neighbourhood, to be 
 one of the highest and proudest in the 
 county.
 
 CEOWX-HARDEX. / 
 
 Though economical, even parsimonious 
 in some things, he liad spared no expense 
 to render his heir worthy of the position 
 he had built up for him. 
 
 Cecil and Blanche Conway, his nephew 
 and niece, were looked up to as a rich 
 man's favourite heir and heiress generally 
 are ; in addition they were handsome, 
 gay, and popular, while their lives more 
 resembled those of a prince and princess 
 in a fairy tale, than of ordinary mortals. 
 Their will was law, servants flew to obey 
 their orders ; they had but to wish for 
 a thing to possess it — indeed if it were 
 possible for Blanche to make a complaint, 
 it could only be that her desire was not 
 always guessed and granted befoj?e she 
 had uttered it. 
 
 In direct contrast to these children of 
 happy fortunes were two other orphans, 
 who also dwelt in this house, and were 
 also nephew and niece to Nicholas Con- 
 way.
 
 8 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Rosamond and Stephen Grranville, were 
 the children of an only sister, Sophia 
 Conway, who had married in a way 
 to displease both brothers. Mr. Gran- 
 ville was a gentleman of family without 
 a sixpence, but with a corresponding 
 amount of pride; this young man had 
 been so imprudent as to indulge himself 
 in a violent quarrel with his brother-in- 
 law, Nicholas Conway, and had uttered, 
 in a manner so witty as to give a double 
 sting to the words, insults that could 
 never be forgiven, while in return, Con- 
 way swore a solemn oath that no child 
 of his should ever receive benefit from 
 him. He had so far trenched upon his vow 
 as to receive the children under his roof, 
 when left orphans by the death of both 
 parents, purely, as they were informed, 
 out of charity; but whether in so re- 
 ceiving them, granting to them only a 
 barren sustenance, void of the semblance 
 even of aflfection or decent respect, he
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. V 
 
 did vouchsafe a benefit to them, is to be 
 doubted. 
 
 Their existence was not much better than 
 that which a workhouse might have afforded, 
 with the added bitterness that such meagre 
 charity was doled out to them by the 
 nearest, ahiiost the only relation they had. 
 
 At this period the boy was at a cheap, 
 second-rate school, where he was often 
 left forlorn to drag through his joyless 
 holidays ; and at this moment the girl was 
 espied by Nicholas Conway quietly, like 
 a guilty creature, attempting to make her 
 way unobserved into the house. 
 . " Hallo, Miss Rosamond ! What are 
 you about, dawdling away your time at 
 this hour?" shouted Mr. Conway, in a 
 harsh, grating voice. '' Why don't you 
 go to your work, and try to make your- 
 self of some little use ?" 
 
 '' I am going, uncle," was the timid 
 reply ; '' but Blanche told me to get her 
 some flowers."
 
 10 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 '' Flowers, nonsense ! you had better 
 mind what you are about gathering my 
 flowers; get along with you!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Conway, not at all in jest, but very 
 angrily, for he could scold even at the 
 commands of Blanche, as long, as only 
 Eosamond had to endure his anger. 
 
 A pale girl of fifteen, in a dark, old 
 merino dress, without the least attempt 
 at crinoline, thin, and, from extreme 
 shyness, rather awkward, who knew that 
 she was much less welcome in her only 
 home than the stable-dog in his, has not 
 much chance of winning her way against 
 prejudice and coldness ; indeed so am- 
 bitious an idea had never entered her 
 head ; her only endeavour was to avoid 
 disagreeables as well as she could, day 
 by day, by making herself as little ob- 
 trusive as possible. It was not surprising, 
 therefore, that she was considered not 
 only utterly insignificant and contempti-
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 11 
 
 ble, but singularly stupid, and somewhat 
 dull. 
 
 According to Mr. Conway's injunctions, 
 she was kept to her needle-work the 
 greater part of everj day, and as she 
 sat over her interminable seams and 
 hemmings, she had ample opportunity to 
 reflect on her uncle's undeviating severity, 
 on Blanche's tyranny over her, and on the 
 manner in which, as a matter of course, 
 Cecil teazed and laughed at her ; but worse 
 far than all, as she considered, was his 
 ill-usage of poor Stephen during his short 
 stay at Crown-Harden. 
 
 It was Mr. Conway's desire that she 
 should be brought up in the plainest, even 
 the humblest style, yet, like some plants 
 that in unfavourable situations send out 
 their roots far and deep in search 
 of nourishment, Rosamond's mind was 
 neither barren nor uncultivated. She 
 often sat at w^ork in the school-room 
 during Blanche's lessons, and a good-
 
 12 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 natured French governess, observing her 
 quickness and zeal, took pains by reading 
 with her, and giving her instruction at 
 chance times, especially in music, of which 
 she was passionately fond, to improve her 
 education. She spoke French with more 
 facility than Blanche, and never forgot 
 what she had once learnt. 
 
 Just as, weary, and with a headache, 
 she hoped her labours were over, she 
 was sent for to finish some work for 
 Blanche's costume the next day, that 
 Mademoiselle Louise, the lady's - maid, 
 had declined to do, saying she should not 
 have time. 
 
 Blanche was lounging about one of 
 the rooms appropriated to her use, 
 furnished with all the luxury and ele- 
 gance that young lady could devise, 
 and Cecil was sauntering about as usual 
 doing nothing, while Eosamond was 
 busy stitching away at her cousin's 
 dress.
 
 CKOWN-HARDEN. 13 
 
 Blanche was so brilliant, so airj^, so 
 lovely, that she always put one in mind 
 of a butterfly, and we mean no disrespect 
 to one of nature's beautiful favourites in 
 making such a comparison. 
 
 Her dress of French muslin was 
 sprinkled with gaily-tinted flowers, more 
 tastefully disposed than those in the 
 garden ; her bracelets, her ear-rings, her 
 brooches of gold were set with jewels that 
 assorted with the hues of her dress. 
 When she moved she was all grace and 
 liveliness, and a perfume, slight, but 
 delicious, and always the last invented, 
 was wafted around her. Her bright 
 brown hair, her exquisitely fair com- 
 plexion, the delicate contour of her fea- 
 tures, her blue eyes, bright and smiling as 
 summer skies, combined to form an 
 ensemble so charming that, if you tried 
 to penetrate through that glitter of beauty 
 in order to discover whether there were 
 beneath it any tender and elevated feelings.
 
 ] 4 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 some germs of goodness, self-devotion, 
 and affection, you were too dazzled 
 and entranced to form a correct judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Her brother was equally handsome, and 
 had even more refinement in his coun- 
 tenance, yet his features, finely formed 
 as they were, had a manly boldness of 
 outline that saved them from the charge 
 of effeminacy. Both were very young, 
 under twenty — in fact Cecil had but just 
 left Eton, where he had remained rather 
 longer perhaps than would be necessary 
 for a very assiduous young man. 
 
 He had just amused himself by adroitly 
 snipping in two, for the second time, and 
 at a particularly inconvenient crisis, the 
 thread Rosamond was usinof. 
 
 *' Oh, don't !" she exclaimed, pettishly, 
 " how disagreeable schoolboys are !" 
 
 " And how disagreeable ugly girls are !" 
 was the polite retort. 
 
 "If you cut it again, I won't do
 
 CKOWN-HAEDEN. 15 
 
 another stitch," said Rosamond, as she 
 laid her work down on her lap, with a 
 most unusual display of audacity. 
 
 " How slow you are !" exclaimed 
 Blanche, glancing at Rosamond, " if you 
 do not choose to get it done in time, I 
 declare you shan't go to Deerham Park 
 on Thursday. I think it was very silly of 
 me to give you leave." 
 
 Without a tolerable dress, without a 
 kind friend to encourao^e her, Rosamond 
 had been thinking of this party with 
 unalloyed dread ever since she heard of it, 
 and of Lady Dornington's request that 
 she mio'ht come. 
 
 "I had rather not go," she said, "if 
 I might have a holiday at home by 
 myself." 
 
 "What a sulky, sullen girl you are!" 
 said Blanche, " I quite hate talking to 
 you ; and such a figure as you always 
 look ! I am sure you are no fair "Rosa- 
 mond ! I can't think why the ridiculous
 
 16 CROWN-HAKDEN. 
 
 people you belonged to gave you such a 
 name." 
 
 These ridiculous people were her father 
 and mother, a dim recollection of whom, 
 the more mysterious and sacred from its 
 being so vague, was treasured in her 
 secret heart of hearts, in all love and 
 reverence. No wonder, therefore, that her 
 cheek burnt, and her grey eyes flashed. 
 
 " I was called Rosamond from ray 
 grandmother. Lady Rosamond Granville ; 
 I forget the name of your grandmother." 
 
 This was a home-jthrust, and a very 
 sore one, for the grandmother in question 
 was a certain Tabitha Hodges, a spot and 
 blemish on the Conway escutcheon, though 
 she had brought what in those days was 
 esteemed a pretty sum of money into the 
 family. 
 
 Blanche was considered quite a wit; 
 but having no answer ready, after turning 
 a few more leaves over, she left the room 
 with an air of nonchalance.
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 17 
 
 Eosamond had never before so far for- 
 gotten herself, and partly from the ex- 
 citement of her nerves, a little too from 
 the painful remembrance of those so 
 long lost to her, the tears, in spite of all 
 her endeavours to restrain them, trickled 
 from her eje-lashes. 
 
 In taking her handkerchief out of her 
 pocket, a folded paper fell on the ground ; 
 she made a hasty snatch at it, but Cecil 
 was first, and picked it up with a 
 triumphant laugh. 
 
 ''Give it tome!" she exclaimed, in a 
 voice that he perceived at once was very 
 anxious. 
 
 " It's a love-letter, I do believe," he 
 laughed. 
 
 " Xo, she said, " it is no such thing:. 
 Give it to me." 
 
 " What will you give me for it, a kiss ?" 
 he asked mockingly. 
 
 " Kiss you P' 
 
 The words were uttered with an ear- 
 
 VOL. I. c •
 
 18 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 nestness of scorn and aversion that rather 
 startled him. 
 
 "I do beheve it is a love-letter," he 
 persisted, solely with the intention of 
 teazing her. '' If you won't let me see 
 it," he continued, still holding the folded 
 paper in his hands, '' I shall always be- 
 lieve that it is a love-letter." 
 
 " Then you shall see it," she answered, 
 '^ and much good may it do you !" 
 
 He read these lines. 
 
 " Brother, haughty, cold, and light, 
 Come no more before my sight ; 
 Sister, heartless, careless, vain, 
 Only pleased in giving pain, 
 Senseless, cruel both, and proud. 
 Only fit to please the crowd, 
 Only fit to flirt and roam, 
 Not for tenderness or home. 
 
 " How you slight, and scan, and con me. 
 Burning wrongs you heap upon me. 
 But, beware ! the w^orm you tread 
 May rear one day a crested head. 
 You mistake — the wretched thing 
 Has perchance a poisoned sting,
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 19 
 
 See it writhe, and twine, and turn, 
 'Tis an adder that you spurn, 
 And its hot, envenomed breath 
 May deal agony and death." 
 
 "Brother! sister! does that mean 
 Blanche and me ? Why, what a venomous 
 httle toad you are !" 
 
 With this delicate criticism on her 
 early poetical effort, he refolded the 
 paper, and gave it back to her. She 
 had never seen him look so grave, nor did 
 he say another word. But when Blanche 
 re-entered the room, and resumed her 
 periodical, Rosamond fully expected that 
 her crime would be divulged, and a demand 
 made for the paper in which she had vented 
 this violent access of discontent on some 
 conduct that she had no other means of 
 resenting. But to her surprise he also 
 took up some book from the table, and 
 remained silent. 
 
 They were interrupted by a tap at the 
 door and the entrance of Mrs. Benson, 
 
 c 2
 
 20 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 the housekeeper, a favoured old ser- 
 vant. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am," she began, 
 ''if Miss Eosamond is to go to Deerham 
 on Thursday, she must have a new dress, 
 and a few new things — " 
 
 "Of course," interrupted Cecil, im- 
 patiently, " let her have whatever is 
 wanted. Get her all that's proper." 
 
 " Would you step this way, Miss ?" 
 said the housekeeper, who, unlike the 
 other servants, was always respectful and 
 kind to Rosamond. 
 
 The young girl jumped up hurriedly, 
 and left the room ; her heart was burst- 
 ing. She ran up to her own little attic 
 chamber, and gave way to a passionate 
 and violent flood of tears, she scarcely 
 knew wherefore. 
 
 '* Really, Blanche," said Cecil in a very 
 Mentor-like tone, '' you should not bully 
 that girl as you do." 
 
 " That is rather good," cried Blanche,
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 21 
 
 ^' why, you worry her fifty times more 
 than I do, she hates you." 
 
 "What matter?" replied Cecil, ''a 
 stupid little fool like her !" 
 
 " Stupid !" repeated Blanche, " she is 
 very disagreeably clever I can tell you. 
 She is cleverer than I, or you either." 
 
 " Pooh !" ejaculated Cecil contempt- 
 uously.
 
 22 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TTTHAT, Miss Eosamond ! are you to go 
 ^ ^ to Deerham ?" said Nicliolas Con- 
 way, on the morning of the fete ; *' really 
 Blanche quite spoils you ! I must have 
 you kept a little more strictly; absurd 
 for a poor, penniless thing like you, 
 living on charity, to be hawked about 
 to parties and nonsense, when you will 
 have your bread to get." 
 
 Observations of this kind were so fre- 
 quently made that, everyone being accus- 
 tomed to hear them perpetually, no one 
 perceived that there was any impropriety 
 in them.
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. ' 23 
 
 " Why, uncle," said Blanclie, " Lady 
 Dornington insisted on my bringing her, 
 I could not well refuse. But, uncle, you 
 are not dressed; of course you mean to 
 dress." 
 
 '' Dress, my dear ! I have put on every- 
 thing clean." 
 
 *' Oh, but, uncle, these old-fashioned 
 trowsers and tight sleeves, those horrid 
 brown holland gaiters peeping out over 
 your shoes, and that large antiquated 
 neck-cloth, really won't do at all. In- 
 deed, I cannot take you such a Guy !" 
 
 '' Take me, indeed ! a pretty way of 
 talking ! you seventeen, and I on the 
 road to seventy ! I am quite good enough 
 as I am. I do not suppose the Master 
 of Crown-Harden will be looked down 
 upon, even though he does wear an anti- 
 quated neck-cloth, and a pair of gaiters 
 and shoes, instead of Master Cecil's var- 
 nished little doll's boots. Nothing looks 
 more neat and gentlemanly, my dear."
 
 24 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 And so sayiDg, he left the room rather 
 in a huff. 
 
 '' Blanche, you had better not meddle 
 with Old Nick,'' said Cecil, meaning to 
 be witty ; he often thus named the uncle 
 from whom he received all he at present 
 enjoyed, and from whom he expected 
 everything. 
 
 " Why ! is this Miss Eosamond !" he 
 exclaimed, afiecting astonishment. For 
 once in her life she was well dressed, 
 in a simple white muslin and light net 
 bonnet. '' I declare some misguided people 
 might almost call her pretty," he added, 
 as he stared at her, pretending to turn 
 her about with one finger of each 
 hand. 
 
 '* Oh ! I wish I were not to go !" 
 sighed Rosamond in all the horrors of 
 mauvaise lionte. 
 
 " You need not trouble yourself, child, 
 I dare say no one will notice you," said 
 Blanche patronizingly.
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 25 
 
 Nor, indeed, was it likely, while she 
 stood by the side of her cousin Blanche, 
 whose beauty was heightened by a perfect 
 toilet and all the embeUishments of fashion. 
 
 Uncle Nicholas, who liked the impor- 
 tance he derived from the display of a 
 variety of carriages, was to follow in a 
 curricle and pair of greys. Blanche and 
 her brother, gaily chatting all the way, 
 really forgot the presence of Rosamond; 
 and during the fete, an out-of-door one, 
 they were so carried away by the gay 
 insolence of prosperity, youth, and beauty 
 that they thought of her still less. 
 
 Lady Dornington's eldest son was abroad, 
 where he chiefly resided, but Henry Yil- 
 leroy, her second son, who assisted to do 
 the honours, found great pleasure in talk- 
 ing and flirting with beautiful Blanche 
 Conway, which he did with more than 
 his usual animation, for he was gene- 
 rally so quiet that he had obtained the 
 sobriquet of '* Still Life."
 
 26 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 Rosamond, in the meantime, was 
 thankful to be permitted to sit quietly 
 near Lady Dornington. She neither 
 danced nor spoke to a single person 
 besides — though, more than once, Lady 
 Dornington kindly offered to get her a 
 partner, and urged her to try a waltz 
 or quadrille. It was an out-of-door 
 fete, and a floor of well-waxed parquet 
 was spread on one of the lawns, sur- 
 rounded with scarlet ropes, while an 
 orchestra, concealed among the trees, 
 played enlivening music. 
 
 Rosamond sat in a whirl of mixed feel- 
 ings, bewilderment, admiration, and en- 
 joyment being the chief sensations evoked 
 by all the novelties she witnessed. 
 
 '^ Do, Miss Granville, have a quadrille, 
 I am sure you will like it," said Lady 
 Dornington, for the third time. 
 
 " Oh ! please not — no, thank you ! It 
 is so beautiful to see. I had so much 
 rather look at it," she said, in such evi-
 
 CROWN-HAEDE^^ 27 
 
 dent tremor that Lady Dornington smil- 
 ingly desisted from farther attempts. 
 
 " T suppose you are very fond of your 
 uncle ?" said Lady Dornington, as Mr. 
 Conway passed near them. 
 
 " I — I don't know him much," Rosa- 
 mond replied, in terrible embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 Lady Dornington laughed. 
 
 " I suppose you do know your cousin 
 Blanche," she observed. 
 
 '' Oh yes," answered Rosamond. 
 
 " Are you very fond of her ?" asked 
 Lady Dornington. 
 
 " She is so beautiful," was the reply. 
 
 ''Yes, that is very obvious. Are you 
 very happy at Crown-Harden ?" she fur- 
 ther inquired. 
 
 " I am not very amiable," said Rosa- 
 mond, blushing scarlet. 
 
 *' That would be a pity," Lady Dor- 
 nington remarked, fully intending at the 
 time to invite and take notice of this
 
 28 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 neglected girl, for stie had known inti- 
 mately several of the Granvilles formerly ; 
 but this intention, like many other good 
 ones, passed from her mind, and she 
 forgot poor Eosamond among the many 
 avocations and amusements of a woman 
 of the world. 
 
 In the meantime Blanche was winning 
 universal admiration. She had every 
 social quality, a merit by no means to be 
 despised. Her light-hearted gaiety, a 
 surpassing charm in early youth, her 
 animation and vivacity, combined with 
 perfect good-breeding, made her a valua- 
 ble acquisition on all occasions like the pre- 
 sent. She chatted with so much ease and 
 piquancy, she was so bright and lovely, 
 that her attraction was irresistible. 
 
 Henry Villeroy appeared to feel it so. 
 He was a young man of fashion, and, 
 though a younger son, had a sufiBcient 
 fortune; but though an Honourable he 
 w^as not, at least in the eyes of
 
 CEOWX-HAEDEN. 29 
 
 worldly mothers, the most desh^able iJarti 
 present. 
 
 The only son of a millionah^e, Sir Lopez 
 Martinez, Mr. Joachim Martinez offered 
 a far more dazzling prospect. His riches 
 were fabulous. It is true that in the 
 young man, though he was good-looking, 
 there might be to critical spirits some- 
 thing not altogether satisfactory in his 
 black eyes. They were too near together, 
 and rather more sharp than intelligent ; 
 in his aquiline but small features, they 
 seemed to express a close, fixed mind, 
 that in a personage less exalted might 
 have been considered to border on the 
 mean. 
 
 His family and parents were originally 
 Spanish Jews, therefore it was easy to 
 ascribe any doubtful peculiarities in his 
 mien to his foreign extraction. 
 
 This gentleman seemed quite captivated 
 by the beautiful Blanche Conwa}^ who, 
 without encouraging anyone, knew how
 
 30 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 to arrest and engross the attention of 
 her admirers, neither creating jealousy 
 nor indicating a preference.
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 rpHE following morniDg Blanche came 
 ■^ clown to breakfast even more radiant 
 than usual, expressing her opinion that the 
 fete had been divine, the people there de- 
 lightful, and her enjoyment of it ecstatic. 
 
 '' Oh ! what a happy life I should have 
 if my will were law. I would have a 
 houseful of company all the morning, 
 just such a fete every afternoon, and a 
 grand ball to finish up, or, by way of 
 resting now and then, a concert, every 
 evening of my life !" 
 
 '•' My dear," observed Mr. Conway, 
 seriously, *^you should recollect that a
 
 32 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 woman has otlier duties than perpetual 
 amusement, especially a woman of for- 
 tune. She has many and grave respon- 
 sibilities." 
 
 " Indeed, uncle ! what ?" asked Blanche, 
 
 " I should think your own good sense 
 might supply an answer," rejoined her 
 uncle ; " why, of course to look after 
 her property, her establishment, her ac- 
 counts, to see that a wanton extravagance 
 in her household does not disperse her 
 means, to . . ." 
 
 " Oh !" interrupted Blanche, *' I thought 
 you were going to say, to make little 
 coats for poor people, and to build 
 schools." 
 
 <« Very good things in their way," said 
 Mr. Conway, with a sneer ; '' but I leave 
 these, and all sacred matters, to the par- 
 son, they are his business, not mine." 
 
 " I suppose they will be our business, 
 too, when we die," said Blanche, rather 
 pertly.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 33 
 
 "It is bad taste to talk about that 
 kind of things," said Mr. Conway, a little 
 put out; 
 
 " Oh ! I don't trouble my head about 
 them much, I shall wait till I grow old." 
 
 This was a still more unpalateable re- 
 mark, but it was wonderful how much 
 he would bear from Blanche, while to- 
 wards most people he was captious and 
 tyrannical. A httle coaxing, and laugh- 
 ing, and merry chat would set everything 
 right again ; she knew her power well, 
 and certainly in these her days of pros- 
 perity abused it. 
 
 Rosamond's enjoyments were very few, 
 but to her they were exquisite. When 
 all the family were away for the day, and 
 she was not overwhelmed with occupations 
 that were to be finished in a given time, 
 her happiness began. 
 
 She went alone to the ruined tower at 
 the back of the house, where she was 
 able to enjoy the peace and freedom that 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 CHOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 were denied to her elsewhere, while its 
 picturesque situation charmed her fancy. 
 By degrees it became a prominent object 
 in her thoughts — so much so that one 
 day, when all the inmates of Crown- 
 Harden were absent, except herself, she 
 took the opportunity she had been long 
 wishing for, to search for some accounts 
 of the old place that she had heard from 
 different sources were still extant. 
 
 " I am sure, my dear,'' said kind Mrs. 
 Benson, '' there's a lot of writing some- 
 where, with a history of the old tower 
 you take such delight in." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Benson," Rosamond ex- 
 claimed, '' can't you remember — can't you 
 tell me something about it ?" 
 
 ''Well, Miss Rosamond, my dear, my 
 husband, when he was a boy, heard a 
 many tales about it; his grandfather — a 
 very old gentleman he was — knew a deal, 
 for my husband's family have lived here 
 for hundreds of years back ; I have heard
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 35 
 
 tell of a beautiful Italian or Spanish lady 
 that died in the tower, if she was not 
 poisoned — some say it was a wicked Lady 
 Granville, one of your own stock, you 
 know, Miss Rosamond." 
 
 " Oh ! do, dear, dear Mrs. Benson," 
 entreated Rosamond, " do try to find out 
 all about it. Do, my dear, kind Benson," 
 she said, coaxing her. 
 
 '*Well," replied the housekeeper, "I 
 will ; but this I do remember, I recollect 
 hearing that since that poor lady died 
 there the old tower was forsaken, nobody 
 dared go near it; yet it must never be 
 pulled down. It'll bring bad luck to any 
 one that removes so much as a stone from 
 the old ruins." 
 
 Rosamond had often begun hasty 
 searches for these papers ; but now being 
 left to herself, and enjoying an unusual 
 amount of liberty, she set about it in real 
 earnest, and with a zeal that she put into 
 everything she undertook.
 
 36 CKOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 In Mr. Conway's little study adjoining 
 the library, stood a curiously carved oak 
 cabinet, that no one was permitted to 
 touch, in which he kept his papers and 
 valuables ; could this history be locked up 
 there ? If so, it was completely unattain- 
 able. But no, there were deeds and law- 
 writings, and, as Mrs. Benson had told 
 her, jewels of unheard of value ; but it 
 was not hkely that Uncle Nicholas would 
 treasure up old legends. 
 
 Her efforts were, at last, rewarded with 
 success ; in a corner of an old upstairs 
 cupboard, a parcel of papers tied up 
 together proved really to be the history 
 she had heard so much of. 
 
 First came a long and tedious pream- 
 ble, explaining how the transcriber had 
 copied from ancient documents, or col- 
 lected from oral and trustworthy commu- 
 nications, the facts of the narrative, for 
 the truth of every one of which, he or 
 she could vouch ; then came an account
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 37 
 
 of liow such admirable penmanship was 
 acquired, and the time, and industry 
 requisite for the task were enlarged on ; 
 but Rosamond possessed the art that most 
 people have who are fond of reading, of 
 skimming rapidly over the dull parts that 
 will intrude in every work, and fixing on 
 and appropriating all that is interesting. 
 
 Among various stories and legends, 
 she soon discovered the one she sought, 
 it was headed : " The Tragic History of 
 Erminia Granville." But we shall take 
 the liberty of both shortening and modern- 
 ising it. Eosamond, dreading lest she 
 should be forced to cry over her story, 
 took the precaution of running upstairs, 
 and shutting herself up in her own little 
 bed-room.
 
 38 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 A CCOEDING to this legend, Sir Hugh 
 •^■^ Granville, in Ins early days of war 
 and adventure, fell in love with and married 
 a beautiful and noble Italian lady, who 
 died in giving birth to a daughter. Not 
 long afterwards, partly yielding to the 
 entreaties of his family, he espoused a 
 rich English lady, by whom he had 
 several children ; but he too died, still 
 young, leaving his widow guardian of 
 his children and estates, the heir, a fine 
 affectionate boy, being the youngest of the 
 family. 
 
 The widowed Lady Granville was her-
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 39 
 
 self still youDg and handsome, and it was 
 rumoured that she would not be unwill- 
 ing to contract a second marriage if a 
 suitable one offered ; a far more unfavour- 
 able report was in circulation, that, though 
 a passionately fond mother, she was a 
 very cruel step-mother. 
 
 She looked on young Erminia Gran- 
 ville as a mere object of charity, though 
 such a word could ill be applied to one 
 who knew neither charity nor compassion. 
 
 At this time, she came to Crown- 
 Harden to live, appointed its Chatelaine 
 by the Princess Mary, to whom it be- 
 longed, but as the transcriber of the 
 legend, with a glorious disregard of time 
 and history, never once mentioned a 
 date, or the wars in which various cha- 
 racters of the story were involved, it was 
 impossible to discover who this Princess 
 Mary might be, or in what feat of arms 
 the Prince her nephew was supposed to 
 be engaged.
 
 40 
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 However, chosen by tbe Princess Mary 
 as her substitute, Lady Granville esta- 
 blished herself at Crown-Harden, and 
 imagining that the circumstances con- 
 nected with her establishment were uq- 
 known in a new neighbourhood, her 
 young step-daughter, Erminia, was now 
 degraded to the rank of a menial, and 
 forbidden, under the severest penalties, to 
 speak to anyone, or disclose her real 
 position. Dressed in coarse garments, 
 ill-used, treated with injustice and cruelty, 
 she still grew up beautiful as she was 
 unhappy. 
 
 So matters remained until a new and 
 unforeseen event brought strange chances 
 and disasters to the formal household of 
 Crown-Harden, 
 
 One or two letters from friends of 
 Lady Granville at Court, and a special note 
 of recommendation from her patroness the 
 Lady Mary, announced the visit of a 
 young knight, a favourite friend of the
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 41 
 
 Prince her nephew, who was bound to 
 join him in some vahant deed of arms, 
 but first was to be the bearer of some 
 mark of favour to Lady Granville. 
 
 It was obvious that the friends of vounor 
 Sir Gervase Massinger thought that the 
 fair, and rich widow of Sir Hugh Gran- 
 ville would be a very desirable alliance for 
 the brave soldier of fortune, and on his 
 arrival, Lady Granville began to think 
 that his handsome face, proud bearing, 
 and polished manners amply compensated 
 for the lack of land and wealth. She 
 received him kindly and cordially ; if an 
 ill-natured critic could ever have pro- 
 nounced her charms on the wane in the 
 broad glare of day, when some frequent 
 displeasure brooded on her brow, he 
 would have been ashamed of his verdict, 
 when he saw her entering her reception 
 hall, illuminated with tall wax lights, 
 brilliant in b^eauty and rich array; yet 
 graceful and splendid as she seemed,
 
 42 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Gervase did not feel his heart beat when 
 she spoke to him, or his cheek flush when 
 she smiled on him ; he was courteous, 
 but not impassioned, and, woman-like, his 
 calmness stimulated her determination to 
 subdue him. 
 
 It was on the second evening of his 
 visit that, considering how best he could 
 retire from an adventure he had hurried 
 into rather unadvisedly, he sought the 
 retirement of some secluded grounds at 
 the back of the mansion. 
 
 It was a lovely evening in early Summer, 
 the birds were singing, the sunshine had 
 turned from yellow to a rosy gold ; a path 
 winding among shrubs and trees led him 
 to a broad, white marble basin full of pure, 
 clear water, through which a sparkling 
 rivulet ran, hurrying in on one side, and 
 out again below. As he stood soothed by 
 the rustle of the small cascade, and the 
 sweet sights around him, a tall and beauti- 
 ful girl, with a large pitcher balanced on her
 
 CKOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 43 
 
 head, stepped erect and graceful up to the 
 marble edge. Not seeing him, she stooped, 
 filled her pitcher, and replaced it on her 
 head — her back being now turned to him. 
 In the whole attitude, in the unusual 
 manner of carrying the water, there was 
 something that recalled to him southern 
 chmes — her long black hair fell loosely 
 down in glossy darkness, and her dress of 
 brown cloth, coarse as it was, gave a 
 classic grace to her figure, suiting well 
 with a face pale and severe in its Grecian 
 outlines as a marble statue. 
 
 Amazed, struck, breathless, ho followed 
 her. On passing through some interlacing 
 branches, the sound attracted her notice, 
 and turning suddenly, she stood gazing on 
 him in silence ; it was some minutes 
 before either could speak, but when she 
 turned again to go, he arrested her with 
 an eager demand, 
 
 ** Who are you ? Some wood-nymph ?
 
 44 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Some sweet fairy of the place ? Who are 
 you ?" 
 
 ''I am forbidden to speak or tell my 
 name," she replied. 
 
 Such an answer was not calculated to 
 satisfy an impetuous young man ; in spite 
 of fears and threats, before long she had 
 told him all, and he had told her more. 
 
 The young knight did not leave Crown- 
 Harden so soon as he had said to Lady 
 Granville that he must. Unknown to her, 
 the lovers met often, the old tower being 
 the place they most frequently chose for 
 their interviews, and Gervase had sworn 
 that he would win and marry Erminia 
 Granville. 
 
 The lady of Crown-Harden no longer 
 found Gervase cold and inanimate, the 
 fire of passion gave him a new charm and 
 a new power. If Lady Granville had ad- 
 mired him before, she now loved him, if 
 the fierce, jealous excitement that burnt 
 in her heart could be called love — and she
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 45 
 
 was jealous already, thougli she little guessed 
 who was her rival, and a successful one. 
 
 But Gervase was too honourable to 
 leave her under deception, and resolved 
 before he rejoined the Prince his master, 
 to explain his feelings, and demand the 
 hand of Erminia. 
 
 '* Dearest," he said to his young mis- 
 tress, *' in one year, from the day I leave 
 Crown-Harden, you will be of age, and 
 free from the tyranny of your unkind 
 step-mother ; on that day, if I live, I will 
 come empowered to claim my bride. 
 
 '* And you will find me awaiting you, 
 and, if I live, faithful," she answered, 
 '' only death shall separate us. But, oh ! 
 Gervase, death is inexorable." 
 
 "Erminia !" he exclaimed, "if you have 
 any doubts or misgivings, do not remain 
 here, fly with me — accept me as your 
 protector and husband ; we will place 
 you under the care of the Princess 
 Mary. I will give up my engagements
 
 46^ CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 with the Prince ; I will obtain absolution 
 for my broken vow." 
 
 " No," she said, " I will not forsake 
 my home, such as it is, with any lover, 
 generous as I know you to be, nor shall 
 you forsake your duty, or incur dis- 
 honour for my sake. I will remain here, 
 it is but for a year — I will have patience, 
 and courage — and you, dear Gervase, re- 
 turn to me a true knight, and honest 
 soldier." 
 
 She held out to him her hand, but he 
 pressed her to his heart, and so they 
 parted. 
 
 Gervase returned to the mansion to 
 take leave of its mistress, for it was 
 already past the time fixed for his de- 
 parture. She accepted his farewell with 
 a benignant softness most unusual to her ; 
 before he left her, he bent one knee to 
 the ground, and looking earnestly in her 
 face, said gravely,
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 47 
 
 " Madam, I have one favour to ask of 
 
 you." 
 
 '' What favour can a noble knight, such 
 as you, ask, that I would deny ?" 
 
 As she spoke her voice slightly trembled, 
 and a ray of hope shone in her eye. 
 
 ** I have betrothed myself to your 
 daughter, Erminia Granville, and I en- 
 treat your . . . ." 
 
 Before he could finish the sentence, the 
 lady sprang to her feet, her whole counte- 
 nance changed, all the fierce passions of 
 her soul flashing from her eyes. 
 
 " Traitor — hypocrite — coward !" and 
 with a sudden thought of vengeance she 
 flew to the window, calling loudly to her 
 servants and vassals. 
 
 Gervase saw that no time was to be 
 lost if he desired to secure his liberty ; he 
 rushed down to the portal, where his 
 squire held his horses ready, awaiting him ; 
 and while the men and retainers of Lady 
 Granville were running hurriedly about.
 
 48 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and gathering together, he mounted, and 
 spurred, and galloped off at full speed, 
 before measures could be taken to detain 
 him, nor did he draw bridle until he was 
 safe beypnd the lands and control of the 
 lady of Crown-Harden ; then he paused, 
 and his first thoughts were for Erminia, 
 left in the power of the infuriated woman, 
 who now had a double cause of hatred 
 against her detested step-daughter. Yet 
 he knew that all Erminia's chance of 
 happiness depended on his safety — on 
 which he had never before bestowed a 
 thought — and that it was to him alone 
 she could now look for protection and 
 kindness. If he had loved her before, he 
 now felt a tenfold tenderness, for she had 
 no friend in the world but him. 
 
 His time was short, yet he resolved, 
 before he sought the Prince, to join whose 
 enterprise he was bound, to see the Lady 
 Mary, and endeavour to interest her on 
 Erminia' s behalf.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 49 
 
 He succeeded in obtaining an audience, 
 though he was scarcely satisfied with the 
 result. He laid the whole case fully be- 
 fore her, enlarged on the cruelty of Lady 
 Grauville towards her step-daughter, his 
 fears on her account, and entreated the 
 Princess to vouchsafe her protection to 
 the object of his love. 
 
 In answer, the Lady Mary declared she 
 could not possibly withdraw the young 
 lady from the guardianship of her good 
 friend the Lady Granville, who was, she 
 said, a superior and excellent person, 
 though perhaps over-strict in some of 
 her notions ; " at any rate," she added, 
 with a smile, ''your fair mistress willbe 
 safe from all other pretenders, and you need 
 have no jealous fears on her account." 
 
 '' I have no such fears, Madam," he 
 answered, " I have no doubt of her con- 
 stancy and faith; but of her happiness 
 and safety." 
 
 '* She has endured her tutelao-e for 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 ^0 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 twenty years," said the Princess, " she 
 may well bear it for one more, with so 
 pleasant a prospect at the end." 
 
 Gervase only so far succeeded in im- 
 pressing on the lady his anxious doubts as 
 to obtain from her a promise that she 
 w^ould send her own favourite Father 
 Confessor and almoner to Crown-Harden 
 from time to time, to see to the welfare 
 and well-being of Erminia. Unable to ob- 
 tain more, Gervase left the presence of the 
 Princess with thanks ; but with a heav}^, 
 and foreboding heart. 
 
 In the dangers and brilliant feats of 
 arms in which he was afterwards engaged 
 with his brave brother in knighthood, the 
 Prince, the dread of his spirit was not 
 calmed, but stunned. He acquired glory 
 and renowm, as well as the favour of the 
 great leaders of the day ; his various feats 
 of arms, some perhaps a little incredible, 
 need not be recorded, though the tran- 
 scriber of his history dwells on them with
 
 CROWN-HAKDEN. 
 
 51 
 
 pride, and Eosamond read them with 
 exemplary perseverance. Shortly before 
 the close of the year, he received a severe 
 wound, but youthful vigour carried him 
 through, and, at last, the time arrived when 
 he might claim his bride ; he armed him- 
 self with letters from the Prince, and the 
 royal consent, to empower him to obtain 
 the hand of Erminia, and set off in time to 
 arrive at Crown-Harden on the very day 
 on which she would obtain her majority, 
 and be freed from the despotic rule of 
 Lady Granville. 
 
 He rode up to the gates of Crown- 
 Harden with an honourable escort and a 
 sufficiency of retainers, in case any opposi- 
 tion should be offered to his demand. He 
 found, however, such precautions quite 
 unnecessary ; the lady of Crown-Harden, 
 who looked pale, and subdued, received 
 him with unexpected graciousness, and on 
 hearing him desire that his attendants 
 should be quartered in the neighbouring 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARV 
 UNIVERSITY
 
 52 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 hamlet, she insisted with hospitable warmth 
 on their remaining at her castle, where 
 she said there was ample room and 
 accommodation. 
 
 Every moment during this interview, 
 Gervase glanced eagerly towards the en- 
 trance, hoping to see his Erminia enter; 
 the lady observed his uneasiness, and said 
 with a smile, 
 
 " You do not well disguise your im- 
 patience, Sir; you are, I know, longing to 
 behold your beautiful mistress. Since she 
 has not yet made her appearance, I judge 
 that she desires that your first meeting with 
 her should be a private one, and you also 
 will, no doubt, prefer seeing her alone." 
 
 " You are too good. Madam," replied 
 Gervase. 
 
 " I trust that you will find me so," 
 answered the lady, with a mocking smile 
 that had something of a sneer in it. " I 
 know that the fair Erminia expected you 
 to-day, for she is arrayed in almost bridal
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 53 
 
 splendour; her mother's diamonds — all 
 she had to leave her, sparkle on her white 
 neck, her robe is white brocade, her 
 mantle scarlet velvet, her veil speaks of 
 the altar. Seek her, Sir Gervase, though 
 it is already nearly dark, I have no doubt 
 that you will find her in the old tower, 
 for it is there that she has spent nearly 
 all her time since you left us." 
 
 Gervase bowed so low, that the white 
 plumes of the cap he held in his hand 
 swept the floor, and left her, followed by 
 the lady's glances — never had he looked 
 so handsome and so gallant. His 
 wound, from which he had but partially 
 recovered, left him still pale, and some- 
 what languid in appearance ; yet the agi- 
 tation of hope, dread, and love had 
 given a fire to his eyes, and a power to 
 his expression that she had never seen 
 in them before. As she lost sight of him, 
 she pressed, with a wild gesture, her 
 clasped hands to her heart and to her
 
 54 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 forehead, muttering as if in madness, 
 " Despair, despair." 
 
 Swift as the bird flies back to its nest, 
 when danger is near, Gervase hurried to 
 the tower where they had formerly so 
 often met, and exchanged vows of love. 
 Yes, she was there — he knew it, for as 
 he approached a narrow band of ruddy 
 light streamed through the arrow slit from 
 the upper chamber, and threw a crimson 
 radiance on the trees and foliage, opposite 
 that effaced and deadened the pale, blue 
 moonlight. 
 
 He sprang up the steep stone staircase, 
 as if he had wings, and entered the little 
 circular chamber. Two large torches, 
 burning and flaring away, shed a strong 
 light in the room, which was filled with 
 a curious perfume; and there, partly 
 turned from him, sat Erminia on a carved 
 oak chair, attired as the Lady Granville 
 had described; a long transparent white 
 veil did not conceal the sparkle of jewels
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 55 
 
 on her snow-white throat, and sprinkled 
 about her black hair, which as formerly fell 
 loose down, a cataract of shining darkness ; 
 her robe was white, a scarlet velvet mantle, 
 edged with gold, falling in rich loose 
 drapery, contrasted with the marble 
 whiteness of the form it hung from. But 
 why does she not rise to welcome him ? 
 Why not move, or speak? A hand of ice 
 seemed to grasp, and choke him. He 
 came in front of her, he gazed — yes, 
 there were those faultless features, there 
 was all that remained of Erminia, it was 
 herself in death. Xo consciousness re- 
 turned his wild cry, no change came over 
 that marble face when he fell at her feet, 
 and clasped her knees— her stiflfeniug 
 form. 
 
 An hour elapsed. Lady Granville 
 awaited the return of Gervase with a 
 fiercely throbbing heart. How would he 
 curse her savage mockery ? Would he 
 seek to slay her? She cared not. But no
 
 56 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Gervase came. Unable to bear tlie horri- 
 ble suspense longer, she made her way, 
 followed by two devoted servants, to the 
 old tower, and slowly mounted the stairs. 
 
 She found there, still and motionless, 
 the corpse of Erminia, arrayed in the 
 bridal veil, the jewels, the scarlet mantle, 
 and dead at her feet, still clasping the 
 inanimate form, the object of her wicked 
 passion, deluged in his blood ; his wound 
 had re-opened in the agony of his woe, and 
 he had died embracing his lost bride. 
 
 Lady Granville stared in silent horror, 
 and returned a miserable idiot to her 
 home ; no other words were known to 
 cross her lips, but those last she had 
 uttered, which no longer had a mean- 
 ing to her — " despair, despair" — and even 
 yet, on the anniversary of the day when 
 Erminia and her lover met in death, sighs 
 and strange sounds are heard in the old 
 tower, and one who dared to remain there 
 through the night, saw what he never re-
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 57 
 
 vealed except on his death-bed. The 
 moon shone full into the narrow window, 
 and there, standing near it, he saw dis- 
 tinctly, but only for one moment, a bril- 
 liantly-attired lady, sparkling with jewels, 
 more beautiful than the women of earth, 
 but white as alabaster. All was gone in 
 an instant, but the strange sight never 
 was effaced from his memory. He could 
 ever recall it, clear and vivid as in the 
 single moment that he beheld it : yet it 
 had an unreal aspect, like the bright 
 reflection cast from a shifting mirror that 
 dances for a moment on the wall, as dazz- 
 ling, as evanescent, and as unsubstantial. 
 
 It is well known, too, that this melan- 
 choly old tower must never be destroyed ; 
 that on its existence depends the fortunes 
 of Crown-Harden. When the tower falls, 
 Crown-Harden will cease to stand ; there 
 it mast remain, with all its blood-stained 
 stones, its dismal associations, a warning
 
 58 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and a watch-tower, as long as Crown- 
 Harden lasts. 
 
 There were several other mournful his- 
 tories recorded of the place. It was said 
 that the young son and heir of the wicked 
 Lady Granville, standing at the entrance of 
 the tower, the day he first wore a soldier's 
 armour, was shot by some wandering re- 
 bels, and, falling back within its walls, 
 stained its pavement, and all his bright 
 silken locks, with his young heart's blood ; 
 and that the funeral of mother and son was 
 solemnized on the same day, the two 
 coffins being carried forth side by side 
 towards the old church of Deerham. 
 
 But it was the image of Erminia Gran- 
 ville that most impressed the fancy of 
 Rosamond. She, too, was as an alien and 
 an outcast in her own family. The poor 
 step-daughter was scarcely worse off than 
 she; but, thought Rosamond, ''I am no 
 heroine of romance, nor ever could be." 
 She wanted the very first requisite for a
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 59 
 
 heroine — beauty. As she so reflected, she 
 ran to the httle square looking-glass that 
 stood on her bare deal table. 
 
 "No," she said, as she looked at her- 
 self. '* I am no beauty, not at all pretty 
 even." 
 
 Nor at that time was she. In addition, 
 her looking-glass, from some weak point 
 or other in the quicksilver perhaps, turned 
 every object it reflected to a greenish grey; 
 besides that, three wavino^ lines dividinof 
 the end of the nose from the lower portion 
 of the face, displaced the mouth and chin 
 a good quarter of an inch from the right 
 line, which variation, it must be owned, 
 did not tend to increase the regularity of 
 the features. 
 
 However, Rosamond did not concern 
 herself much about it. Though a great 
 dreamer, her reveries were seldom egotis- 
 tical. She made romances, but none con- 
 nected with herself. She had unbounded 
 faith in love, and heroism, but the subjects
 
 60 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 of her fancy were entirely removed from 
 herself, or all she personally knew. 
 
 Blanche, it is true, was quite lovely 
 enough, even in her fastidious judgment ; 
 but then she was far too much addicted to 
 millinery and dancing to be at all fit for 
 a heroine, to say nothing of her disagree- 
 able manner, and want of feeling to her- 
 self Worse still, Rosamond could never 
 forget her jumping up, and running to 
 answer a note relating to some stupid 
 party in the most touching part of the 
 story of Atala and Chactas. No, Blanche 
 would never do for a heroine !
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A FTER reading the legend of the 
 tower of Crown-Harden, Rosamond 
 spent half the night thinking of Erminia 
 and the upper chamber. Of course, it still 
 existed, but how to get there ? She had 
 never discovered any traces of a staircase 
 or aperture that could lead to it. A secret 
 staircase — a room up there in that roman- 
 tic old tower, unknown to any one — the 
 idea had a charm that quite occupied her 
 imagination ; and as she fell asleep a little 
 before daylight, she determined to look 
 for, and, if possible, discover both, the 
 very next day. 
 
 But, much to her disappointment, she
 
 62 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 was obliged to postpone her interesting 
 search for several weeks. From some 
 unforeseen circumstances all the family 
 returned unexpectedly to Crown-Harden, 
 to remain a month or two, before they 
 took their usual sea-side excursion. 
 
 However, a new interest arose for 
 Eosamond, in whose dull life a very small 
 trifle indeed was an event. So it was that 
 the attachment of a puppy became to her 
 the source of both pleasure and pain. In 
 one of her rambles, an ugly, brown 
 puppy, from some of the back premises, 
 followed her pertinaciously one morning, 
 and whether attracted by her gentle tone 
 of voice, or the touch of her soft, white 
 hands, suddenly conceived for her the 
 most romantic attachment, lying in wait 
 for her at all corners, showing extravagant 
 dehght at beholding her, and the most 
 abject, tail-drooping misery at her de- 
 parture. No real attachment could be 
 lost on Eosamond ; she began by being
 
 CROWN-HAKDEX. 63 
 
 kind to it, and soon loved it with an un- 
 reasonable ardour. 
 
 She was just then in great enchantment 
 at the music of Eossini's ' Barbiere di 
 Siviglia,' and fancying she saw a comic 
 twist in the countenance, moustache, and 
 antics of her new pet, she called him 
 Barbiere. She so carefully concealed the 
 object of her passion, and kept it so much 
 in the background, that Barbiere was still 
 unnoticed, though the usual frailties of the 
 puppy began to give her great uneasiness. 
 He carried off everything he found in his 
 way, and made a point of biting, and tear- 
 ing whatever he got hold of. 
 
 Who can describe Rosamond's horror in 
 beholding him one morning galloping in 
 headlong glee with her uncle's red velvet 
 slipper, the most sacred portion of all his 
 belongings, in his mouth ; dragging it 
 along the wet grass, and through the 
 black mould. She flew to the rescue, and 
 to add to her terrors, Barbiere imagining
 
 64 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 it was a particularly animated game of 
 play, rushed caracolliug along in front of the 
 breakfast-room windows, pursued by poor 
 Rosamond; happy was it that, great as 
 was the danger, it was escaped; she seized 
 the shpper, panting with running and 
 and alarm, and replaced it unnoticed. 
 
 But, alas 1 it was not so that all her 
 adventures with the luckless Barbiere 
 were to end. He had been noticed once 
 or twice by Mr. Conway, who asked 
 sternly where that hideous brute came 
 from — and once, on seeing him pull about 
 the walking-sticks in the hall, he beat him, 
 and said he must be hung, but forgot him 
 again. 
 
 Barbiere, who had a good memory, 
 always scudded off in ignominous flight at 
 sight of Mr. Conway, but one day his fate 
 was sealed. Mr. Conway had bought some 
 hyacinths of peculiar beauty at a guinea a 
 piece, and had had them planted in the 
 bed in front of the house ; the thick green
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 65 
 
 sheathes had just shown themselves succu- 
 lent and promising above the earth, when 
 they caught the fancy of Barbiere, who 
 flew to the spot, and at once set to scratch- 
 ing vigorously, and pulling them with his 
 little sharp teeth one after another, till 
 they all lay on the grass around him ; then 
 seizing one, he scampered about with it, 
 while its long white fibrous root, like dis- 
 hevelled locks of hair, trailed piteously 
 behind him. 
 
 At this fatal moment, Mr. Conway came 
 out to investigate his proceedings — his 
 fury can better be imagined than described. 
 Luckily for poor Barbiere, he was out of 
 its reach in half an instant ; with an impish, 
 yell, and the speed of a hare, he fled across 
 the lawn, casting one or two expressive 
 glances behind him; but this crime was 
 too heavy to be forgotten. Mr. Conway at 
 once re-entered the house, and ringing 
 violently, inquired, in wrath, whose was 
 that vile puppy ? 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 (^6 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Oh, Sir ! that's Miss Eosamond's 
 Barber," was the answer. 
 
 " Miss Eosamond's Barber !" lie cried, 
 " the very name is indelicate !" and burn- 
 ing with rage, he sought his offending 
 niece. 
 
 Eosamond, who had seen the last stage 
 of the disaster from an upper window, ran 
 and hid herself; but coming down as soon 
 as the coast was clear, she met Blanche on 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Oh pray, pray, Blanche," she entreated, 
 *•' do save my poor Barbiere !" 
 
 Blanche understood his peril, for the 
 whole house had rung with his guilt, and 
 the punishment he was condemned to. 
 
 Eosamond flew into the garden to seek 
 her darling, and the poor, unconscious 
 victim, in more than usually joyous mood, 
 his spirits perhaps excited by the mischief 
 and the risks that followed, came gam- 
 bolling up to her. She snatched him up in 
 her arms, and darted off with him to a littl
 
 CROWN-HABDEN. 67 
 
 summer-house, and caressing, and kissing 
 him as he ecstatically licked her hands, and 
 stroked her face with his paws, she burst 
 into tears and wept over him, as if it had 
 been a human friend she was to lose. He 
 was the first living thing that had ever 
 loved her with his whole heart, and to be 
 hung ! there was something so cruel, so 
 merciless in the sentence, and such a 
 young, happy Barbiere as he was ! 
 
 As she was sobbing over his untimely 
 fate, she heard a voice close to her, 
 looked up with a start, and saw Mr. 
 Yilleroy, who, coming in from the shrub- 
 bery, had glanced into the summer-house 
 to see who it was. On any other occa- 
 sion she would have been very shy, and 
 ashamed at being discovered in tears, 
 but now she was too engrossed with 
 thoughts of her dog, to care for anything 
 else. 
 
 '' What is it ?" asked Villeroy, " is 
 your dog hurt ?" 
 
 P 2
 
 ^8 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Oh no !" said Rosamond, lifting up 
 ber tear-stained face ; " but lie has been 
 naughty, and Uncle Conway says he is 
 to be hunof." 
 
 '' Are you so fond of him ?" inquired 
 Yilleroy. 
 
 *' 1 love him, and he loves me," she 
 answered, crying again, more bitterly. 
 At this moment a boy appeared at the 
 door of the summer-house; he was a 
 protege of Benson's, who hoped, from a 
 page, to raise him in time to the dignity 
 of a full-blown footman, but Sandy's un- 
 polished tastes led him greatly to prefer 
 the avocations of a stable-boy. 
 
 " I don't care for being tra-la-laed out 
 in buttons, and minciug about among the 
 women, like a boarding-school Miss. I 
 like the ' 'osses,' and had rather sweep 
 out the stables than hand about the tea 
 and trash." 
 
 But he was so far under the influence 
 of Benson as to feel some respect for Miss
 
 CROWN-HARDEX. 69 
 
 Granville, who he said, '' was the real 
 lad J, and up to the mark — she was ;" 
 therefore, on seeing Barbiere in the arms 
 of Rosamond, he touched his cap, and 
 said civilly. 
 
 " Please ma'am, I'm to take Barber to 
 Thomas — he's only a-going to clean him 
 up a bit, and try him on a new collar," 
 with a knowing wink at Villeroy, who 
 stepped forward. 
 
 " Tell Thomas," he said, " that I want 
 Barbiere." And he tossed half a sovereign 
 to the boy, " that's between you and 
 Thomas." 
 
 Sandy touched his cap with a meaning 
 smile, and departed. 
 
 " Will you give Barbiere to me, Rosa- 
 mond ? I will take great care of him, 
 and often bring him to see you," said 
 Yilleroy, good-naturedly. 
 
 " No ! but will you really be so very 
 good ? he is not pretty, and he is rather 
 mischievous," faltered Rosamond. 
 
 *' Oh !" rephed Yilleroy, " I will have
 
 H 
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 all indulgence for his little practical jokes, 
 though I do not generally like them, but 
 I promise to make him happy." 
 
 ''Oh, Mr. Villeroy, you are good ! You 
 are kind ! Oh ! you do make me happy !" 
 
 " Then leave off crying, and I will take 
 him off at once," this was really a self- 
 denying act, for he had come on purpose 
 to make some arrangement with Blauche. 
 
 " I will not bring him to see you for a 
 week or two, when his misdemeanours 
 will be forgotten. Good-bye, dear Eosa- 
 mond, be merry." 
 
 As he spoke, he took Barbiere in his 
 arms, and carried him off. 
 
 Blanche had fully intended to try to 
 procure his pardon, but at that critical 
 moment a large box of wreaths and 
 bouquets had come to be looked at and 
 chosen from, and what with trying them 
 on, and seeing if they suited the dress she 
 meant to wear with them, she entirely 
 forgot the poor little dog.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 71 
 
 Villeroy remembered his promise ; about 
 a fortnight afterwards he brought Barbiere 
 with him to Crown-Harden. He met 
 Blanche in the avenue; the puppy had 
 now transferred a good portion of his 
 affections to his new master, and evinced 
 it by making frantic dashes at his ankles, 
 and catching hold of the bottom of his deli- 
 cate light grey trowsers, tugging fiercely 
 at them, to their no small peril. 
 
 " What a rude, ugly dog you've got," 
 said Blanche. " Why," she exclaimed, 
 '' I do believe it is Rosamond's Barber." 
 
 " Yes," answered Yilleroy. " I took it 
 to save it from hanging." 
 
 " I meant to have saved it," said 
 Blanche, colouring deeply. 
 
 Whether any emotion beyond what her 
 words expressed dyed her cheeks, it is not 
 for us to inquire. At that moment, Rosa- 
 mond came flying up. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Yilleroy ! thank you, thank 
 you. Oh, my dear, darling Barbiere !"
 
 72 
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 And throwing herself on her knees, the 
 more fully to abandon herself to his over- 
 powering caresses, it would be hard 
 to say whether she or the dog expressed 
 the greatest rapture. 
 
 '^ It was very good-natured of you," 
 said Blanche, *' such a tiresome animal as 
 it is !" 
 
 '^ Oh, I like him," answered Yilleroy.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 r\N the very morning that the travel- 
 ling carriage, and the one containing 
 servants and boxes, had rolled away 
 through the gateway of Crown-Harden, 
 Rosamond ran off to the tower to prose- 
 cute her search for the hidden staircase. 
 
 The ancient castle, or mansion of Crown- 
 Harden, had been pulled down and rebuilt 
 in the time of George the Second, but the 
 old tower had remained untouched, and 
 still stood proud and sullen, a remnant of 
 the days of the Plantagenets, as it was 
 supposed. This belief confirmed Rosamond 
 in her persuasion that she should succeed 
 in discovering what she desired to find.
 
 74 CROWN-HART EN. 
 
 She hastened up the long, winding, 
 tangled shrubbery walk, so unfrequented 
 by any but herself, and entered the lower 
 apartment of the tower. It was rugged 
 and desolate enough. There was a rough 
 oak panelHng, about seven feet high, sur- 
 rounding the walls; above it were the 
 dark, unhewn stones. The staircase must 
 necessarily open from the room, it was 
 impossible it could be reached from out- 
 side, for she had made careful examination 
 in every direction; therefore she exerted 
 all her ingenuity to find out another egress 
 besides the door, but in vain. There were 
 cracks and splits in abundance ; but 
 though she knocked, and sounded, and 
 used all her strength attempting to detach 
 portions of the wood-work that had any 
 suspicious appearance, her endeavours 
 seemed to be perfectly fruitless, when a 
 new idea occurred to her, and she flew 
 back into the house, to carry it into 
 execution.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 75 
 
 Benson was out, Mrs. Benson was busy, 
 and she never liked to trouble the servants ; 
 therefore she went upstairs into Blanche's 
 little boudoir, and took one of the tall wax 
 candles out of one of the pretty Sevre 
 candlesticks that stood on her dressing- 
 table. As she passed by the cheval-glass, 
 she accidentally caught sight of herself — 
 perhaps the first view she had had of her 
 complete self — and accustomed always to 
 see before her the finished grace and 
 beauty of Blanche, in her pretty and varied 
 costumes, she was considerably shocked at 
 the contrast she herself presented. A tall, 
 thin girl of fifteen, in a cheap, unbecoming 
 dress, not half so smart as that of the 
 housemaid, looked particularly incon- 
 gruous among the muslin and pink silk 
 draperies of the boudoir, the rather 
 crowded but tasteful furniture, and the 
 delicate Bengal roses that stood in light 
 gilt stands in the window, their bright 
 green foliage and soft pink bloom shadowed
 
 76 CllOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 bj the lace draperies of tlie inner cur- 
 tains. 
 
 She gazed at herself in undisguised 
 consternation, then ran off, and forgot all 
 about it. 
 
 She took a few matches with her, and 
 proceeded again on her way, rather pleased 
 with her ingenious device. 
 
 As soon as she found herself again 
 within the tower, she lighted her candle, 
 and held it before the various cracks, for 
 she thought that, when she reached the 
 one opening on the staircase, the strong 
 draught blowing through it would extin- 
 guish the candle. The light waved and 
 flickered, for draughts seemed prevalent 
 everywhere, but not more markedly in 
 one place than another. After a very 
 patient trial all round, she stood still a 
 few minutes, disappointed, but not dis- 
 couraged; for Eosamond had not only a 
 quick imagination, but great perseverance 
 in followino: out its suoforestions.
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 77 
 
 Like a flash of light, the thought oc- 
 curred to her that it was just possible that 
 the aperture did not descend to the floor 
 at all, but might, perhaps, be found 
 higher up ; so, placing an old wooden 
 chair against the walls, and jumping 
 down, and moving it from time to time, 
 she recommenced her search a few feet 
 higher up, and at last with success ; she 
 came to a slight gaping seam in the oak- 
 work, not nearly so wide or apparent as 
 many of the others, but, as soon as she 
 put the candle to it, the flame bent 
 down and trembled, as if about to be 
 extinguished. 
 
 This was the place, she was certain. 
 She quietly got down, and put her candle 
 safe, in case it might be needed, or she 
 shoul'd stay till dark, and then set about 
 attempting to open the panel by every 
 means in her power ; her force was not 
 great, but it is not often by force that any 
 enterprise succeeds, and at last the ob-
 
 78 CKOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 stinate, senseless material yielded to the 
 plastic, intelligent mind, and, like every 
 other mystery, the moment it was dis- 
 covered, it was found to be a very simple 
 one. 
 
 As soon as she had examined the inner 
 side of the large slab of oak that she had 
 moved, she easily understood the simple 
 but effective manner by which it was 
 secured. 
 
 After this, she ventured on the rather 
 alarming exploit of ascending the nearly 
 dark, broken stone staircase, built in the 
 thickness of the wall ; it was not very easy, 
 but as it merely required good climbing 
 and strong courage she soon managed it, 
 and great was her delight on emerging 
 to find herself in a circular chamber cor- 
 responding to the one below, in far better 
 preservation, and infinitely more cheerful 
 and inviting from its greater elevation. 
 
 " AVhy," she said to herself, *' the room 
 below is like a dismal cellar compared 1
 
 CROWxV-HARDEN. 79 
 
 this ! how delightful ! And it shall be my 
 own, it is my discovery, I have a right 
 to it !" 
 
 And Columbus, when he joyfully ap- 
 propriated his first-discovered islands, 
 could not have felt a livelier joy, nor had 
 she anyone to contest her possession. She 
 resolved that no one should ever know of 
 this secret of hers ; she would be so 
 prudent in her enjoyment of it, that it 
 should never even be suspected — and 
 there she thought is the window where 
 poor Erminia was seen, pale and glittering, 
 in the moonlight ! 
 
 " Would I like to see her ? It would 
 be terrible, but so strange — so wonder- 
 ful !" 
 
 She half thought she should like to 
 see her, but she could communicate to 
 her no pity, no sympathy — they would be 
 separated by an awful and impassable 
 gulf — half awe- stricken, she advanced to 
 the high narrow window, how lovely was
 
 80 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 the view ! Broken rocks and stones 
 that seemed to have fallen from the 
 mountains at the back, were mingled with 
 tall trees, which formed a spreading 
 roof of transparent emerald, while a 
 warm afternoon sun steeped the rich vista 
 of the flat, distant meadows to the south 
 in a soft, golden haze. 
 
 Rosamond stood gazing at the scene 
 before her in rapt enjoyment, while 
 a rush of gratitude for the sudden happi- 
 ness that moved her, brought the tears 
 to her eyes. 
 
 It was long before she could make up 
 her mind to desert her new found little 
 paradise, but she did at last, pleased 
 with the thought of all she would do 
 to embellish and render habitable this 
 new domain of hers. Mrs. Benson was 
 the kindest friend she could possibly have 
 had, for she never refused Eosamond's 
 modest requests, and what was better, 
 never asked questions about them ; still to
 
 CROWX-HAEDEN. 81 
 
 avoid exciting the least inquiry, she deter- 
 mined to obtain her acquisitions gradually, 
 and in as unobserved a manner as possible. 
 Poor Rosamond ! there is nothing in youth 
 more charming than its frank, confiding, 
 fearless candour; nothing so painful, so un- 
 prepossessing as a premature caution and 
 secretiveness, but these faults, if they were 
 hers, were forced upon her. She knew not 
 the happy expansion of heart that ought to 
 accompany early days. Fear and isolation 
 are bad school-masters, and only the most 
 generous and noble natures can pass 
 through such an ordeal without losing all 
 that is endearinof. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 "pOSAMOND had abundant oppor- 
 -■-^ tunity, before the return of Mr. 
 Conway and Blanche, to accomplish all 
 she desired in the way of arranging her 
 secret chamber. By the time they were 
 all again established at Crown-Harden as 
 before, she had furnished and embellished 
 it to her heart's content. 
 
 Red cushions answered the purpose of 
 seats, a leaf of a mahogany table, she con- 
 trived to make a reading desk of, and by 
 degrees her httle tower-room became her 
 bower of delight, her luxury, her fairy- 
 land. 
 
 Here she brought, at various times, old
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 83 
 
 and odd volumes, some of Scott's, of 
 Byron's, of Spencer's, and Thomas a 
 Kempis ; in short, a small collection of the 
 most incongruous and mixed description. 
 She longed to carry hither her concertina, 
 but that she did not dare, lest there might 
 be risk of discovery. 
 
 Sometimes she read, sometimes she 
 mused, often she sat gazing through the 
 two narrow loop-hole windows, breathing 
 in with a delight that never wearied the 
 varied influences and aspects of nature ; 
 whatever they might be, to her they were 
 enchanting. Whether, high up in her 
 nest, she seemed to sit like a bird amonsf 
 the branches, the sunlight glancing on the 
 quivering leaves around her, turning them 
 all into topaz, and emerald, and scattered 
 golden lights, and purple shadows on the 
 cliffs and rocks ; or white mists swept 
 shroud-like in long weeping trains among 
 the hills, or the showers came patter- 
 ing down fast upon the woods, alternately 
 
 G 2
 
 84 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 veiling them and clearing off again ; or the 
 setting sun threw a rose-coloured flood over 
 the plain below, all was ecstacy to her ; and 
 it was here that she ran on the first leisure 
 moment she had, when the rest were out, 
 to read in peace a letter from her brother 
 Stephen, that she had just received in so 
 mysterious a manner as greatly to excite 
 her curiosity. Mr. Yilleroy had called 
 while her uncle and cousins were absent, 
 and had asked to see her, as he said he 
 had a message from his mother to Miss 
 Conway. The message was an invitation 
 for the following day, but as soon as he 
 had given it he said, smiling, 
 
 " Miss Granville, I have a letter from 
 your brother that I was requested to 
 deliver into your hands alone, in so very 
 secret a manner that it must be some 
 schoolboy dilemma, but nothing of conse- 
 quence, I am sure, for the bearer, who is 
 his school-fellow, assured me he was all 
 right."
 
 CROWX-HAEDEN. 85 
 
 Mr. Yilleroy did not add that the school- 
 fellow was the son of his mother's house- 
 steward. 
 
 Rosamond surmised at once that it was 
 an entreaty to procure him a half-crown, 
 or some similar request ; therefore, when 
 she opened it, she felt no serious appre- 
 hension. The letter was as follows : — 
 
 ** My dear Eosamond, 
 
 " Those beasts and brutes at Crown- 
 Harden want to make me an apprentice in 
 a little puddling merchant-ship — a fellow 
 who does all the dirty work for nothing, a 
 regular snob. Do you try to make them 
 put me in the Navy. I won't be a snob. 
 If you can, I will love you dearly. So I 
 do now, but I mean I will love you fifty 
 thousand times better than ever. If you 
 can't, I mean to hang myself, or take 
 poison, I am not sure which. 
 
 '' Ever your affectionate brother, 
 
 '' Stephen Granville."
 
 86 OROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 " P.S. — Of course you know that the 
 Granvilles are fifty thousand times more 
 gentlemen than the stupid old Conways, 
 those beasts and brutes as they are." 
 
 Poor Rosamond did not dwell on the 
 style of the epistle, but its contents cut 
 her to the heart. What could she do ? 
 How hopeless the task ! Yet she would 
 undertake it. She had but one desire now, 
 and that was to save her brother from 
 degradation, for she never doubted it to 
 be so. 
 
 Her first care was to destroy the letter 
 in such a way as to secure the fearful and 
 impious words from being divulged ; for 
 though she had herself written in much 
 the same spirit, with regard to her cousins, 
 she had, as a point of duty, preserved 
 inviolate her respect for her uncle, far 
 more so, indeed, than her more favoured 
 cousins. 
 
 She effected the destruction of the re~
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 87 
 
 bellious missive in kind Mrs. Benson's 
 room, where a fire was always kept up, by 
 pushing it in, and carefully holding it 
 down with the poker, lest even a tell-tale 
 fragment should fly up the chimney, and 
 then she awaited the return of the party 
 in the evening with a trembling heart. It 
 beat faster when she heard the carriage 
 drive up, but shortly after she summoned 
 all her resolution, and with a tolerably 
 calm exterior she slowly entered the room. 
 The deep emotion that agitated her gave 
 a new expression to her features and 
 movements. All looked at her in surprise 
 and expectation. 
 
 " Uncle Nicholas," she said, " is it your 
 intention to send my brother Stephen 
 apprentice on board a merchant-ship?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Rosamond, it is my inten- 
 tion to send your brother, Stephen Gran- 
 ville, apprentice on board a merchant-ship." 
 
 ** Oh, my uncle, do not. Put him in the 
 Navy. Let him be a gentleman."
 
 88 CHOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Go to your room," he shouted, wrath- 
 f iiily. " Go to your room. See to your- 
 self, I recommend you. 8ee that you 
 don't get turned out of my house to 
 starve." 
 
 She clasped her hands, and advanced to 
 him. 
 
 '' Listen to me, I beseech you," she said. 
 
 "Do you dare to dictate to me?" he 
 interrupted, fiercely. " Take care, take 
 care, lest I turn you out of doors this 
 very night." 
 
 " I do not dictate," she urged. " I only 
 entreat. Have I ever said a disrespectful 
 word of you in my v^hole life, in your 
 presence, or behind your back? Uncle, 
 be kind, be merciful. Oh, grant my 
 prayer !" 
 
 And coming forward to him, where he 
 sat, she burst into tears. 
 
 The tension once loosened, she was 
 unable further to restrain, or even to sup- 
 port herself. She sank on her knees by
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 89 
 
 the side of his cliair, and catching hold of 
 his hand, as it rested on the arm of his 
 chair, she leant her face on it and wept 
 passionately. 
 
 Mr. Conway, who had exaggerated his 
 anger to frighten her into desisting, looked 
 very uncomfortable, hardly knowing what 
 to say or how to act. 
 
 '* Do, dear Uncle Nicholas," put in 
 Cecil. " Do what she asks." 
 
 " Get up, I tell you. Go away, girl," 
 said Uncle Nicholas. 
 
 '' No," she said, sobbing, '•' not till you 
 have given me hope, not till you have 
 given me a promise." 
 
 "Well, ril see about it, I'll think 
 about it. Go away — do — you worry me — 
 you " 
 
 " Oh, dearest Uncle Nicholas ! do not be 
 good by halves. Say you will." 
 
 *' I'll see about it. Don't say anything 
 more; don't worry me. You upset my 
 digestion. I dare say I shall."
 
 90 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you, dearest, 
 kindest uncle.'* 
 
 " Go away, I say." 
 
 Rosamond saw it would be wiser now to 
 obey, she rose, and slowly left the room. 
 
 " I am glad you will do it. Uncle," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " I do not know yet what I shall do." 
 
 *' Oh, you must, you are bound in 
 honour." 
 
 '' And what does Blanche say?" asked 
 Mr. Conway, turning to his favourite. 
 
 ** Oh, Uncle ! I should think so indeed ! 
 Why, it would be disgusting to have a 
 cousin in such a situation. I should be 
 horridly ashamed." 
 
 " He is not a Conway," observed Uncle 
 Nicholas. 
 
 '' But he is no less your nephew and 
 our cousin," said Cecil. '' Why, old Sir 
 Lopez, who is always trying to run you 
 down, would be sure to say, there's 
 Conway can do nothing for his poor
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 91 
 
 relations ; you know he has managed to 
 get good places for all his." 
 
 " What is Sir Lopez to me ?'* exclaimed 
 Uncle Nicholas, who was of a very jealous 
 temperament, and did not much like his 
 richer neighbour. 
 
 " I wish you would write about it to- 
 night/' said Cecil, " Stephen is old enough 
 already." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall not be refused," said Mr. 
 Conway, " not likely," as he rose and 
 consequentially marched off to his study. 
 
 '' Poor girl !" exclaimed Cecil. 
 
 *' Yes," Blanche answered, " I wonder 
 that she dared persist." 
 
 *'More pluck than I expected," Cecil 
 observed. 
 
 " It was really too bad of Uncle Nicholas 
 not to recollect what a disgrace it would 
 have been to us," Blanche remarked. 
 
 " Were you thinking of that ?" asked 
 Cecil, *' I thought you only said it to 
 get him through his vanity."
 
 92 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 As soon as it was possible Rosamond 
 informed her brother of the happy result 
 of her application to her uncle, and she 
 received the following answer, which Mr. 
 Villeroy managed to deliver to her as he 
 caught sight of her one morning on her 
 way to the shrubbery. 
 
 '* My dear Rosamond, 
 '* I am precious glad you were so lucky. 
 I shall like being a midshipman. I have 
 written a humbugging and proper letter 
 to Uncle Conway, and thanked him as 
 you said, but I'll be shot if I ever say a 
 word to that fellow Cecil. I hate him. 
 I am not what you call a warm-hearted 
 one, but I can hate heartily. Do you 
 remember how he used to bully me, and 
 box my ears? I never forget, and if I 
 get a chance of paying him out, won't I 
 do it, that's all ? I have got such a jolly 
 peashooter, I have a good mind to fire it 
 ofi" at the Doctor when I leave school. I
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 93 
 
 should not mind if I happened to put one 
 of his eyes out. I am to come to your 
 beastly old place for a fortnight before I 
 go on board. Well, I shall be glad to see 
 you, especially if you're not so ugly as 
 you used to be." 
 
 This letter, boyish though it was, gave 
 pain to Rosamond. She could not blind 
 herself to the vindictive malice it ex- 
 pressed ; it caused her another pang ; her 
 brother she thought, in some degree, re- 
 sembled herself, and that was an unpleas- 
 ing reflection. She, too, had felt move- 
 ments of hatred and passion — was she 
 cruel and vindictive ? She scarcely un- 
 derstood her own heart, but she knew 
 that she was totally different from Blanche 
 and Cecil. Beneath a quiet exterior there 
 were emotions so violent, that she almost 
 was afraid of herself; not the less perhaps 
 that no living creature suspected the 
 depths of impetuous feeling that she so
 
 94 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 jealously concealed. But an instinct told 
 her that there was something yet more un- 
 controlled, more immoveable in the hatred 
 of her brother. 
 
 If ever by any unforeseen chance he 
 were to acquire a power over either 
 Blanche or Cecil, they would be unhappy 
 indeed. Yet what was there to dread ? 
 How could it ever be ? What harm was it 
 possible either he or she could ever do 
 them ? No — if her brother or herself ever 
 did sin against them, it could only be in 
 thought.
 
 95 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 FN the meantime, not only Mr. Villeroy, 
 ^ but Mr. Martinez were frequent 
 visitors at Crown-Harden. It seemed that 
 Blanche had only to choose between them. 
 Rosamond thought it impossible for her 
 to hesitate. Young Yilleroy she thought 
 was gifted with every noble quality, while 
 for Martinez she felt a strong disHke, 
 little as she saw of him. 
 
 To make up for a concession, of which 
 Mr. Conway seemed as much ashamed, as 
 if it had been a guilty weakness, he was 
 more harsh than ever towards Rosamond. 
 By an inherent cunning he found out 
 whatever was most disagreeable to her,
 
 96 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and made her do it. He had that restless, 
 prying temper that induces a fidgetty 
 man to interfere in those petty details 
 that are not at all in his province. He 
 was very fond of peering about the offices, 
 the larders, and the linen-presses, where 
 he discovered a heavy and unpleasant 
 task for Rosamond, desiring her to con- 
 fine herself to the housekeeper's room, 
 and set herself to repair all the family 
 linen, halving sheets, and sewing them 
 together again, though Mrs. Benson, 
 who pitied the poor girl, assured him that 
 much of the linen was not worth the 
 trouble. 
 
 She trembled lest her vexatious slavery 
 should be enforced during her brother's 
 short visit ; unnecessarily so, however, 
 for a holiday was graciously permitted 
 during his stay. She took care so to 
 contrive it that he gave no active offence, 
 though every one in the house, except 
 herself, thought him a disagreeable young
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 97 
 
 man, but he was so quiet and cautious, 
 tliat at least he avoided quarrels. 
 
 It cannot be said that Rosamond en- 
 joyed his visit, though, when he left, she 
 cried in a manner to excite her uncle's 
 displeasure and contempt. Like all self- 
 ish people he was much annoyed at the 
 sight of grief, and it was, in great measure, 
 Blanche's merry disposition, and high 
 spirits that endeared her to him. She 
 never cried, she never grieved, why 
 should other people ? 
 
 If her brother ran off to the Continent, 
 or to town, or if he had gone to Labrador, 
 she would not have cried, why was Rosa- 
 mond such a fool ? 
 
 *' Well," said Blanche, '' you know 
 Stephen is to cruise in the China seas, 
 and they say that is a dangerous station." 
 
 *' The China seas !" muttered Mr. Con- 
 way, " my poor brother, Reuben, was 
 lost in the China seas — it will be no great 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 loss if this youDg cub sbould meet the 
 same fate. Bat Rosamond is such a fool." 
 
 '' No, uncle, dear, Rosamond is not a 
 fool !" 
 
 '^ Why not? how do you know?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Because she knows a great deal more 
 than I do. Only sitting in the room with 
 my governess, and hearing us, she learnt 
 a great deal more than I did. She picks 
 up things by a sort of miracle, she knows 
 languages, and plays better than I do." 
 
 " Oh ! a sort of book-worm cleverness, 
 I think notlnng of that. But by-tbe-bye, 
 I often meant to ask you, what does 
 young Villeroy have to say to her ? I saw 
 him meet her, and speak to her privately 
 the other day, so I did a month ago." 
 
 Blanche coloured. 
 
 " Mr. Yilleroy ! you must mistake, 
 uncle !" 
 
 " No, my dear, no mistake ; but it 
 does not much signify, It appears to me
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 99 
 
 tbat Mr. Martinez pays you great atten- 
 tion. He would really be worth encou- 
 
 "What for?" asked Blanche, assuming 
 a most ingenuous air. 
 
 *' You must understand me. He ad- 
 mires you. His wealth will be enormous." 
 
 " Oh !" answered Blanche, very un- 
 truly. '* I do not care a bit about wealth. 
 Money is dross." 
 
 '' Do not betray such unworthy senti- 
 ments in my hearing !" said uncle Nicholas, 
 in great displeasure ; " but I know you 
 do. You care about money as much as 
 most people. I desire you not to play 
 off your impertinence on Mr. Martinez." 
 
 *' I certainly shall not be dictated to 
 in my flirtations," answered Blanche, 
 nettled in her turn. " I shall do just as 
 I please." 
 
 '' You had better take care, Blanche, 
 you had better take care;" said Mr. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Conway, in some agitation. ** Don't go 
 too far, I warn you.'' 
 
 Blanche, whose perceptions were quick, 
 noticed a change in her uncle's manner, 
 but thoughtless in her security, she 
 troubled herself very little about it. 
 
 Still, in spite of her protestations of 
 contempt for money, it became clear that 
 she by no means discouraged Joachim 
 Martinez, whose self-conceit grew in pro- 
 portion to his hopes ; particularly when he 
 happened to encounter Villeroy either at 
 Crown-Harden, or in the neighbourhood, 
 he gave himself insufferable airs, while 
 Villeroy scarcely vouchsafed to observe 
 him, or merely cast an indolent, super- 
 cilious glance over him from beneath his 
 long, dark eye-lashes, which provoked 
 him the more, because he felt he could 
 not resent it. He envied Yilleroy's tall 
 figure and handsome, dark countenance, 
 it was perhaps as much the hope of dis- 
 appointing Villeroy, as any ardent affec-
 
 CROWN -HAEDEN. 10- 
 
 tion for Blanche, that led him to profess 
 admiration for her. 
 
 In this state we must leave matters, 
 and pass over three years, during which 
 time no great exterior change took place 
 in the situation of the residents at Crown- 
 Harden.
 
 102 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TTvURING tlie three years that had 
 passed since Stephen had entered 
 the navy, and Rosamond had been to her 
 first party, Cecil had spent three terms at 
 Oxford, merely to go through the form of 
 being at college, and the rest of the time 
 had been very little at Crown-Harden, 
 he had travelled, or, at least, scampered 
 through several countries, and had passed 
 a season or two in London and Paris. 
 Blanche also had been very gay the last 
 Summer in town, and had not long 
 returned home. 
 
 She was, if possible, more radiantly 
 lovely than ever. There was more pre-
 
 CEO\YN-HAEDEN. 103 
 
 cision in the lines of her regular features, 
 without in the shghtest degree impairing 
 the vivacity, and candour of expression 
 that acted as an open sesame to every 
 heart. 
 
 It was time for her to come back and 
 jjheer the failing spirits of her uncle, for 
 a change was very perceptible in him. 
 Though less violent in his temper, he was 
 more fretful and irritable. His countenance 
 was more sickly, his hands trembled, 
 and if in the least excited, which he became 
 on very trifling occasion, they shook so 
 much that he was scarcely able to hold 
 even his knife and fork. He was not only 
 perpetually scolding Rosamond, but even 
 pshawed and pooh-poohed Blanche some- 
 times rather impatiently. 
 
 One morning, at breakfast, he had been 
 grumbling about her expenses as well as 
 her brother's. 
 
 " Why look here. Miss Blanche, is your 
 jeweller's bill nearly two years due, close
 
 104 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 upon two hundred pounds, with your very 
 handsome allowance. And there's Cecil, in 
 the course of less time, has exchanged three 
 horses, and bought two. I suspect his 
 bills are enormous." 
 
 '' Well, uncle, only tell him you disap- 
 prove, and I am sure that will be sufficient," 
 said Blanche, lightly, and thinking little, 
 and caring less, she went on laughing, 
 talking, and ridiculing characters she had 
 seen, till he became amused and in better 
 humour, and even spared Cecil, for the 
 present, the lecture he had prepared. 
 
 " And there's that cub coming back 
 soon," he said, relapsing into discontent, 
 with an angry glance at Rosamond. " I 
 should hope he does not expect to quarter 
 himself here upon me." 
 
 " Sufficient unto the day is the evil 
 thereof," said Blanche, " after all it does 
 not much signify, only I'm afraid he'll be 
 too old for Cecil to box his ears, and 
 keep him in order. Well, goodbye, uncle.
 
 CROWN-HAKDEN. 105 
 
 I think I shall have some news to tell you 
 when I come back to luncheon," and she 
 ran out of the room. 
 
 Mr. Conway, after rambling about the 
 house, finding fault with all the servants 
 he met, and everything he saw, came back 
 in course of time with a large account- 
 book, and some papers under his arm for 
 Rosamond to copy and add up. 
 
 *' Sit there, Miss Rosamond, and do not 
 dare to stir till you have done it all 
 properly. I have noticed your idle ways, 
 always sneaking off and scrambling among 
 those hills, and that old tower ; it is very 
 unladylike, and a good-for-nothing lazy 
 habit. You have been too much indulged. 
 I mean to pursue a very different course 
 with you, as you shall fiqd to your sorrow. 
 I will break that stubborn temper of yours 
 before I have done with you ; do you sup- 
 pose I keep you here merely to eat, and 
 drink, and spend my money ? When 
 people have to live on other people's
 
 106 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 charity the least they can do is to be 
 industrious and humble." 
 
 Eosamond as usual received her lecture 
 in silence, and sat down at a writing-table 
 against the wall to commence her labours, 
 hoping Blanche would soon come in, for it 
 was Mr. Conway's habit to walk up and 
 down the room, asking fretful questions 
 unceasingly, and every time she got half 
 through a long column of figures, she was 
 obhged to answer, and begin her work 
 over again. 
 
 She was conscious as she ever had been, 
 that her uncle was weak and tyrannical, 
 but she forbore to dwell in thought on 
 his character, or to fathom her feehngs 
 towards him. Perhaps she dreaded lest 
 if she clearly mapped out before her 
 own mind his arrogant, cruel, and mean 
 disposition, her own patience and self- 
 control should fail her; and if it came 
 to an open rupture, what would become 
 of her ? She was not timid ; on the con-
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEX. 107 
 
 trary, she had a great fund of untried 
 courage ; her nervous system was easily 
 acted on, but her character was strong 
 and unyielding, though every thought 
 and feeling had been from childhood for- 
 cibly repressed ; therefore, it was not fear 
 that restrained her, but her great reserve 
 of disposition, which, partly natural, partly 
 the result of circumstances, made it odious 
 to her to go among strangers, to see new 
 faces, and to seek for new friends. 
 
 Could she have lived independent in 
 her tower, even on bread and water, and 
 clothed in serge, like the hermits of old, 
 but blessed with freedom, she would have 
 been happy. What a proud moment it 
 would be to her, if she could ever 
 return his hateful tasks into her uncle's 
 hands and with a cold courtesy thanking 
 him in measured words for the scant 
 charity he had bestowed on her, resign 
 all farther claim on his bounty, and leave 
 the house for ever.
 
 108 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 Yet lier tenacious temper had endeared 
 the old place to her; the familiar walls 
 and rooms, the trim gardens, had never 
 injured or offended her, and she loved 
 them all — she had so little to love. 
 
 But when she was solitary^ she could 
 visit them from her tower, and she could 
 look at them when she could not approach 
 them. It was an odd idea of happiness, 
 but it was hers. 
 
 As she sat writing, while Mr. Conway 
 was pacing wearily about the room, look- 
 ing out of every window by turn, Blanche 
 ran in, pulling off her hat and shawl, and 
 threw herself on an easy chair, laughing 
 merrily. 
 
 ''What is it?" What are you laughing 
 at, my dear?" asked Mr. Conway, much 
 cheered at the idea of a little gossip, or 
 hearing something new. 
 
 " T have had a walk with Mr. Joachim 
 Martinez."
 
 CROWN-EAEDEN. 109 
 
 *'Well — what — well?" inquired her 
 uncle, eagerly. 
 
 " He has at last disclosed the secret 
 that preyed on his damask cheek, and no 
 longer lets concealment like a worm in 
 the bud. . . ." 
 
 " Do you mean that he has proposed ?" 
 inquired Mr. Conway, with a sudden 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Yes," said Blanche, laughing, " he has. 
 Dear me ! I shall never get over it, I 
 was so afraid I should laugh before he 
 took his departure, and made his last 
 bow." 
 
 " I do not see what there is to laugh 
 at," said Mr. Conway, vexed at her levity. 
 
 " No — because you did not see him. 
 Oh ! I shall go into hysterics ! so prim ! 
 so pompous ! so proper !" 
 
 " You really shock me," said her uncle. 
 *^ Is it indeed true that propriety is utterly 
 ridiculous in your eyes ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! but if you had heard
 
 110 CROWN- HARDEN. 
 
 him ! ' lie has long respected my virtues, 
 and admired my person ;' my person ! 
 just Uke the little school-room histories of 
 England." 
 
 "I am really at a loss to understand 
 your objections. Is every man to make 
 love like the Corsair, or some rantinsr 
 vagabond? Can a young lady never be 
 satisfied unless her lover verges on im- 
 propriety ?" 
 
 ''Impropriety! I should think not! 
 He had better not try ! As long as I am 
 Blanche Conway, I'll teach him better." 
 
 At this cricis, Cecil came in, he had 
 seen Martinez mount his horse, and gallop 
 off; he now entered the room looking 
 more serious than was usual with bim, 
 for Cecil though a man in years, was still 
 as thoughtless and inconsiderate as a boy. 
 
 " What is it ?" he asked. 
 
 Mr. Conway liked the importance of 
 having any intelligence to give, it always 
 pleased him to impart news, whether
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. Ill 
 
 agreeable or otherwise ; be therefore has- 
 tened to say, 
 
 *' Blanche has had an offer from Mar- 
 tinez." 
 
 " I suppose you do not mean to accept 
 him ?" said Cecil, looking at his sister. 
 
 '' Not accept him ! why not, pray ?" 
 asked Mr. Conway angrily. 
 
 " I do not like the man," answered 
 Cecil. 
 
 " You do not ! oh really ! and pray why 
 not ? you do not like the man ; there is 
 nothing against his character, or I might 
 not like the man." 
 
 " I do not like him," repeated Cecil ; *' I 
 do not believe he would make Blanche 
 happy." 
 
 ** Pray cease such nonsense," said Mr. 
 Conway in great displeasure, raising his 
 voice as he proceeded ; *' what do you 
 know about it, pray ? what experience — 
 what knowledge of the world have you, an 
 ignorant boy, to give your opinion so
 
 112 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 freely, and to attempt to bias your sister 
 with such folly ?" 
 
 Cecil now became rather augry. 
 
 " It is not folly ; as her brother I have 
 a right to give what advice I think best." 
 
 " Be silent, Sir, when will she get such 
 a chance again ? never ! do you know that 
 he will be one of the richest Commoners in 
 England ? Even now he has twenty thou- 
 sand a year; at his father's death, his 
 wealth will be incalculable. Why do you 
 understand that he now actually possesses 
 nearly two thousand pounds a month, 
 nearly five hundred a week — something 
 approaching to one hundred per day ?" 
 
 " I should prefer a better man with 
 " Cecil began, when his uncle inter- 
 rupted him in a voice so loud and shrill, 
 that Blanche effectually sobered, inter- 
 posed. She rose quickly, and advanced 
 towards them with a gesture so imperious, 
 that they stopped short. 
 
 " You two men seem to forget that the
 
 CROWX-HAEDEN. 113 
 
 offer is made to rae, not to you, and tliat I 
 am to make the choice." 
 
 They both looked at her; she smiled her 
 pretty, arch, playful smile. 
 
 " My choice was made the moment it 
 was offered. I intend to accept ;" and she 
 swept out of the room like a queen. They 
 both stood transfixed, and then each re- 
 tired a different way. 
 
 Not long after, Mr. Conway saw Blanche 
 and Cecil conversing together in the 
 garden ; he could hardly control his rest- 
 lessness; he watched them, he followed 
 them with jealous glances — wandering un- 
 quietly from window to window — not to 
 lose sight of them — with flushed face and 
 twinkliug eyes, half tearful with eager 
 anxiety ; he thought Cecil was endeavour- 
 ing to persuade her to alter her decision — 
 nor was he altogether wrong. 
 
 " I am sure you don't care for the mean 
 little fellow," urged Cecil. 
 
 *' I am not at all the girl ever to fall in 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 love," said Blanclie ; " I am not a bit ro- 
 mantic." 
 
 "No more am I," said Cecil, ''still you 
 ought to like the man you mean to marry." 
 
 '' I do like him well enough, and his 
 money I adore. My dear Cecil, just con- 
 sider . . . ." 
 
 " I wish you would not," Cecil insisted ; 
 " you may repent it some day." 
 
 " Not I ! To tell the truth, I do not 
 fancy I have much heart — as they call it. 
 I like you very well, dear old fellow — 
 better than anybody ; but I do not care a 
 sou for any one else — and I believe never 
 shall ; and a husband who was very tender 
 and envpresse would bore me to death. I 
 could never satisfy him, I know. I only 
 want to be jolly, and do just as I like ; and 
 I shall be merry all my life long." 
 
 '* When you get older " began 
 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, really you are coming old Uncle 
 Nicholas over me. When I get older —
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 115 
 
 when I get ever so old, I shall dance on 
 crutches." 
 
 " I wish it had been Yilleroy/' urged Cecil. 
 
 " Oh, Villeroy ! he is not half a quarter 
 so rich, and he is so quiet — stupid I think. 
 Besides, I rather fancy he has some ro- 
 mantic notions of saints and angels. I am 
 not sure that he does not admire Miss 
 Rosamond." 
 
 *' Rosamond !" exclaimed Cecil ; " what 
 utter absurdity. Rosamond! Blanche, dear, I 
 know he thinks no one so beautiful as you." 
 
 "Well, perhaps next to some of their 
 Raphaels at Deerham. But don't worry 
 me any more. I mean to have Martinez, so 
 it is no use. And, Cecil, don't you quarrel 
 with Uncle Nicholas, he is a good deal 
 altered, poor old man ; that is what makes 
 me have patience with him, though he 
 really is horribly cross and disagreeable." 
 
 The days passed rapidly. About twice, 
 or thrice in the week, Joachim Martinez 
 made his appearance at Crown-Harden, 
 
 I 2
 
 116 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 and Blanche kept her word. She certainly 
 did keep him in very good order. He 
 now and then kissed her hand, but once, 
 when he attempted to put his arm round 
 her waist, she flashed such a fiery glance 
 at him, that he drew back rather dismayed. 
 This lioness-deportment, combined with 
 her mirthful humour, was exactly adapted 
 to subdue and enthral her somewhat con- 
 sequential admirer. He began to believe 
 that he was not conferring quite so great 
 a favour and honour as he had imagined. 
 
 Blanche, who was very quick-sighted, 
 observed that the disagreement between 
 her uncle and Cecil had left a stronger 
 impression on his mind than usual. His 
 manner to his nephew was cool and con- 
 strained. He avoided speaking to him 
 when he could, and when he could not 
 help doing so, his voice had the harsh 
 tone it always had in addressing Rosa- 
 mond ; but with her usual gay thought-, 
 lessness, she did not trouble herself much
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 117 
 
 about it. She only supposed it was a lit 
 of ill-humour, that would go off in time. 
 
 One morning, after breakfast, the hour 
 when Uncle Nicholas was always most 
 especially uncomfortable, he beckoned 
 Cecil into his study. 
 
 '' You have bills. Sir," he said, coldly. 
 " If you make a correct list of them, with 
 the proper dates, names, and amount to 
 each, I will liquidate your debts." 
 
 '' Oh, uncle ! it will be troublesome for 
 you. Not just now," said Cecil, who, at all 
 times, rather shirked what was disagree- 
 able, and thought Mr. Conway was in a 
 very unpropitious humour for such revela- 
 tions just then. 
 
 *' If I may presume to advise," replied 
 Uncle Nicholas, stiffly, " I would say, take 
 a good offer when you can get it ; but as 
 you please, as you please." 
 
 '' Oh, any time will do," answered Cecil. 
 The very answer most vexatious to Uncle 
 Nicholas, and, glad to escape, off he went
 
 lis CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 to the stables, whistling idly, forgetting 
 all about it, and much more interested in 
 some young filly he had a desire to enter 
 for some races that were coming off, and 
 that just now quite engrossed his mind. 
 
 Unfortunately, at this time, another 
 incident occurred, that had more serious 
 consequences. Among other mean, un- 
 gentlemanly habits. Uncle Nicholas had 
 a trick of overhearing parts and scraps 
 of conversation. He would have been 
 ashamed to listen at doors in a pre- 
 meditated, decided way ; but he did permit 
 himself often to pause, before he passed 
 by, when people were talking incautiously, 
 which both Cecil and Blanche constantly 
 did ; and one evening, when they thought 
 he was out, he overheard several unflat- 
 tering remarks, and, above all, for the 
 first time, he heard himself designated by 
 Cecil as ''Old Nick." It was not only 
 disrespectful, but ungentlemanly — bad 
 enough in a boy, but utterly unbecoming
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 1 19 
 
 in a man ; therefore his anger was reason- 
 able, but he indulged it to a very un- 
 reasonable extent. 
 
 He turned away, and rapidly retired to 
 his room, or what he called his study, in 
 a violent access of rage, the more furious 
 from its impotence, for he had not the 
 strength of mind, or body, to reproach his 
 nephew. He shook as if in an ague, his 
 face was white, large drops stood on his 
 brow. Suddenly everything turned dark 
 before him, a chill ran through his frame. 
 He fell, and did not recover consciousness, 
 until, on arousing, he found himself in 
 bed, and Rosamond standing over him, 
 with her tears dropping fast, one by one, 
 on his hand. 
 
 " Oh, uncle !" she said, softly, " are you 
 better ?'* 
 
 " Are you sorry for me, my dear ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She made no answer, but bent down,
 
 120 CllOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and pressed her warm, tender lips on his 
 hand. 
 
 " Where is Blanche?" he inquired. 
 
 '' She is gone out, uncle, with Cecil. 
 They went out before we knew you were 
 ill. The doctor will be here directly. 
 
 Blanche and Cecil were not to blame, 
 yet he felt anger that they were out. 
 '' Yes," he said to himself, " out enjoying 
 themselves, laughing — Blanche laughing 
 as she did, the other day, at Martinez, and 
 as she would if I were dying." 
 
 About an hour later, Blanche ran into 
 his room in alarm; but it was evening; 
 he was fatigued, and after a few words 
 they parted for the night.
 
 121 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "I. 'I OR weeks Mr. Conway remained in 
 ■^ this weak condition, with no declared 
 disease, but unable to rise, and not im- 
 proving. At first, the concern Blanche and 
 Cecil both felt sobered them, and they paid 
 their uncle all the attention he required ; 
 but where the feelings are not deeply 
 interested, it is surprising how soon they 
 get used to everything, and in time they 
 came to think not much more of the 
 master of the house lying weak and suf- 
 fering in his bed than they did of him 
 when he was well. 
 
 Besides, the unconquerable high spirits
 
 122 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 of Blanche could not long be repressed ; 
 she hated the dulness of a sick house, and 
 longed to run up to town, just, as she 
 said, for the last drawing-room of the 
 season, when the Duchess of Helvellyn 
 had promised to present her; therefore, 
 each day she kept hoping that her uncle 
 would mend, and soon get so much better 
 that she might leave him only just for a 
 week. Then as her gaiety returned, she 
 would run in to Uncle Nicholas, and try 
 to amuse him with all the absurd, lively 
 nonsense that used to please him, but 
 that now, changed as he was, jarred pain- 
 fully on his feelings. She had no idea 
 but to do him good, and make him laugh 
 — laugh, that aim and object of all 
 intercourse, as Blanche thought. She 
 little guessed how utterly discordant mirth 
 sounded in that poor, barren, withered 
 heart. Eosamond knew what sorrow was, 
 and read aright the anxious eyes, the 
 drawn sad lines in his face; she now
 
 CROWN- HAEDEX. 123 
 
 scarcely left him, aud her quiet, gentle 
 sympathy soothed him inexpressibly. 
 
 But at nio^ht, when tossino^ feverish 
 and impatient, unable to sleep, with 
 nerves unstrung, the ingratitude of 
 Blanche and Cecil assumed gigantic pro- 
 portions in his diseased fancy ; every 
 thoughtless word returned on his memory 
 magnified and exaggerated. 
 
 Selfish in all things, he cared now to 
 speak of nothing but his illness, his symp- 
 toms, his various sensations ; perpetually, 
 unceasingly reiterating them with weak, 
 wearisome lamentations. 
 
 Rosamond listened to them with un- 
 failing patience, prompted by a deep pity 
 — Blanche put them aside, not merely, or 
 perhaps chiefly because they fatigued, and 
 ennuy^d her, but also from a desire to 
 divert his mind from dwelling solely on 
 his ailments. Besides, her visits were 
 short, though frequent ; she had had no ex- 
 perience in sickness, and did not perceive
 
 124 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 that her way of fluttering in and out, 
 often not sitting down quietly at all, but 
 standing or moving about, was agitating 
 and uncomfortable to an invalid. 
 
 Cecil perceived that his uncle was not 
 over well pleased to see him, therefore 
 seldom made his appearance. 
 
 The weeks passed, even the months 
 slowly crept on, Autumn was approaching, 
 a stormy, cold season ; indoors and out 
 seemed equally gloomy. Joachim Mar- 
 tinez was away, but wrote pretty regu- 
 larly. 
 
 Lady Dornington called to take leave, 
 and her manner to Blanche was far from 
 pleasant to that young lady. Without 
 being in the least rude, or even distant, 
 she managed to put a trifle of something 
 in her behaviour not exactly slighting, 
 but that yet gave the impression that in 
 her estimation, Blanche Conway was a 
 nobody. Blanche knew it was on her 
 son's account, but she did not at all like
 
 CEOWN-HARJJEN. 125 
 
 it ; her affections might uot perhaps be 
 very keen, but her pride was. 
 
 Mr. Conway was a tolerably good 
 lawyer, therefore instead of employing a 
 London solicitor, his only man of business 
 was an attorney from the small neigh- 
 bouring town of Deerham, an old ac- 
 quaintance. This person was a good 
 deal about Crown-Harden at this time, 
 and had many interviews with Mr. Con- 
 way. 
 
 He was a quiet, elderly man, in delicate 
 healtli; no one objected to him, but he 
 thouglit fit to bring with him his son, who 
 acted as his clerk, a young man who was 
 exceedingly disagreeable to all the party. 
 
 He was not only very sharp, a little too 
 much so in matters of business, but un- 
 luckily for him he was the swell and 
 dandy of Deerham ; his conceit was 
 boundless, and he was determined to 
 make himself on easy terms with the 
 young ladies of Crown-Harden, of whom,
 
 126 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 with vulgar assurance, he used to talk, 
 among his acquaintances in the little 
 town, as Blanche and Rosamond. 
 
 Cecil had given him one or two such un- 
 mistakable rebuflfs that he did not presume 
 in his presence, but he began a regular 
 persecution of Rosamond, who could not 
 endure him. He paid her compliments 
 that she scorned, and attempted to offer 
 small presents, though she declined them 
 with disdain ; but Mr. Orlando Hensbawe 
 seemed to have unbounded faith in the 
 powers of perseverance. 
 
 One gloomy afternoon, about twilight, 
 Mr. Conway, w^ho appeared stronger and 
 better for the last few days, raised himself 
 on his elbow, and desired Rosamond, who 
 was sitting in his room, to go and rest 
 herself, for she stayed with him till very 
 late at night, sometimes till one, or two 
 o'clock, and returned very early in the 
 morning.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 127 
 
 " I am not tired," she said. 
 
 *' Do as I bid you, go and rest, I have 
 some papers to look over." 
 
 Of course, Eosamond obeyed, and 
 lingered in the long, dim corridor all 
 soundless now, except that outside she 
 could hear the dreary north-east wind 
 wailing round the house, she slowly opened 
 the drawing-room door, the room was 
 empty, the windows were carelessly left 
 open, and the blast suddenly bellying out 
 the damask curtains, almost startled her, 
 the fire was nearly out, only a few sullen 
 embers still glowed in the grate, which was 
 covered with ashes, and heaps of cinders 
 lay neglected on the hearth. 
 
 How different from the neat, orderly 
 ways when her uncle was in health ; it was 
 one of his employments to go about, and 
 poke the fires in the various rooms, and 
 woe betide if the hearths were not imma- 
 culate, and all swept up clean. Even this
 
 ] 28 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 trifle gave her a pang, and a kind sigh of 
 regret escaped her. She stood a minute 
 or two in the neglected, deserted room ; 
 she saw the dull grey sky outside, and the 
 scattering leaves drive aslant through the 
 cold air, while the trees creaked in the 
 wind. She could not sit in that forlorn 
 room, therefore, made her way back 
 towards the library, which was not very 
 far from her uncle's bedroom. 
 
 She found it closed up and warm, with 
 no other light than that of the bright 
 wood-fire. Blanche and Cecil were sitting 
 over it, 
 
 '' Shall I disturb you ?" asked Rosamond. 
 
 " Oh, no, we don't care, only don't keep 
 the door open," was the answer. 
 
 Rosamond, therefore, entered, and seated 
 herself on the side of the fire farthest 
 from them, and a little removed from it. 
 Opposite her was a small door covered 
 with the same green and gold paper that
 
 CROWN-HAKDEN. 1 29 
 
 hung on the walls where there were no 
 bookshelves, which opened into her uncle's 
 study. 
 
 To do Blanche justice, she was very sel- 
 dom in an ill-humour, but this evening she 
 happened to be so ; perhaps the east wind 
 affected her, and she was relieving herself 
 by a severe fit of grumbling, saying a great 
 deal more than she meant, and indulging 
 in more foolish talk when Rosamond 
 entered, for she took great delight in 
 shocking and horrifying, as she called it, 
 her cousin. 
 
 '' I was a great fool !" said Blanche, 
 ''not to have gone to town, after all. I 
 might just as well, it would not have made 
 poor old Uncle Nicholas any the worse." 
 
 '' You could not while he was so ill," 
 said Cecil. 
 
 '' Provoking nuisance !" Blanche re- 
 joined ; " there's Mary Villeroy has been 
 presented, and I not. I really wish the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 poor, dear old man would get either better 
 or worse." 
 
 *' Oh, Blanche ! how can you speak so ? 
 you do not mean it !" exclaimed Rosamond. 
 
 '' Do I not ?" Blanche replied. '' If he 
 intends to get well, I wish he would ; and 
 if he does not, what is the good of being 
 so long about it ?" 
 
 " Stop !'■ cried Rosamond, " I will not 
 hear it — and so kind as he has always been 
 to you." 
 
 *' A selfish old fidget," said Blanche. 
 Cecil was going to speak, but was arrested 
 by Rosamond's look of horror. 
 
 As she sat gazing mechanically on the 
 door opposite, that stood ajar, it slowly 
 and noiselessly opened ; and in the dim 
 half-hght she beheld a thin, dark figure 
 standing; a flame leaping up cast a light 
 upon it, and for a moment she distinctly 
 saw lier uucle in his dark dressing-gown ; 
 his deathly pale face, terrible in its wrath 
 and grief; but a moment, and it was gone.
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 131 
 
 ''What's the matter?" said Cecil, who, 
 as well as Blanche, being seated with their 
 faces to the fire, turned their backs to the 
 door. 
 
 She could not speak, but pointed to- 
 wards the study, pale, and with wild 
 staring eyes. 
 
 They both looked round. 
 
 " What is the matter ? what on earth 
 do you mean by frightening one so ?" 
 asked Blanche, displeased. 
 
 '* I saw my uncle there," she faintly 
 articulated. 
 
 They both looked round aghast ; but the 
 next minute Blanche laughed. 
 
 ''You little donkey, do you suppose we 
 believe in ghosts ?" 
 
 " It was," she repeated ; " it was, in- 
 deed." 
 
 " Ridiculous !" said Blanche ; "but put 
 the door to, Cecil. See if there is any 
 one in the next room." 
 
 K 2
 
 132 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Cecil went to tlie door, passed into tbe 
 study, and looked round. 
 
 '' No one," he said ; "I wish Eosamond 
 you w^ould not behave like such a fool." 
 
 But on looking at her he saw that she 
 was really frightened ; she shook all over, 
 her face was white, and her large, hollow 
 eyes were filled with terror. * 
 
 " Bring her a glass of wine," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 Cecil did so ; but though she recovered 
 herself, she still said that she saw him 
 standing there. 
 
 '* I should like to go and look at him — I 
 hope — I do hope he is alive." 
 
 *' Why, you most stupid of girls — alive ! 
 of course he is. He is getting better as 
 fast as he can. He will be all rio:ht in a 
 week or two," said Blanche, who never 
 had for a moment thought of death, or 
 danger. 
 
 As soon as she was able, Rosamond 
 went to her uncle's room ; she opened the
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 133 
 
 door gently, approached the bed, she could 
 scarcely see by the night-lamp, but all was 
 still. 
 
 '' Uncle," she said timidly, " do you 
 want anything ?" 
 
 No movement — her knees almost gave 
 way under her. 
 
 " Uncle, dear ! she repeated very softly, 
 but in a tone so thrilling with fear, that it 
 aroused him. 
 
 '' Who are you ? Is it Sophia ?" 
 
 " It is I — Rosamond !" she said. 
 
 '' Rosamond !" he repeated, and he gave 
 a deep sigh. 
 
 The girl knew that her mother's name 
 was Sophia, but she had never heard him 
 mention her before — a deep awe was upon 
 her. 
 
 " Your mother has been with me, she 
 asks me — ' Is my Rosamond happy ?' " 
 
 And again he sighed deeply. Rosamond 
 sat down by the bed-side, and in silence 
 clasped his thin, weak hand.
 
 134 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 At the usual hour that the two cousins 
 came in to wish him good-night, they 
 entered. Blanche, as usual, bent down 
 to kiss him, but he turned quickly aside, 
 burying his face in the pillows. 
 
 " Ungrateful !" he muttered, " thank- 
 less and ungrateful !" 
 
 He tossed about more uneasily than 
 usual, and was so restless that Rosamond 
 would not leave him till near dawn, when 
 he fell asleep. The moment her head was 
 on her pillow, she also fell asleep, and was 
 so utterly exhausted that she did not wake 
 till very late the next morning. When she 
 did, she found a note lying by her on the 
 pillow. She read it hastily, then jumping 
 up, she put on her dressing-gown, and 
 wrote a hurried answer. Mrs. Benson 
 came in, when she heard Eosamond 
 stirring, and took the note to its desti- 
 nation ; but it is not necessary at present 
 to explain the contents, either of hers or 
 of the one she had received.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 135 
 
 This morning she indulged herself to 
 her cold bath, and a leisurely toilet, for 
 almost the first time since her uncle's 
 illness had become serious. She felt re- 
 freshed, and re-invigorated ; when she 
 came into his room, she found him propped 
 up with pillows, so emaciated, so leaden- 
 hued, so utterly despondent in mien, that 
 she could scarcely refrain from tears. 
 
 " Will not you lie down, uncle, dear ? 
 you look so tired." 
 
 ** As you please, my dear," he replied; 
 " it signifies very Httle." 
 
 Soon after she had settled and arranged 
 him comfortably, Blanche came in. Rosa- 
 mond saw a faint streak of pale orange- 
 red rise to his wan cheek as she ap- 
 proached him. 
 
 '* You look better this morning, uncle, 
 darhng," she said, afi*ectionately. 
 
 " Do I ?" was the answer. 
 
 And hoping to enliven him, Blanche
 
 1 36 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 exerted herself to chat cheerfully, and 
 endeavoured to amuse him. 
 
 How heavy each light word of hers 
 fell on his heart ! 
 
 '' Good-bye, uncle, I must not tire 
 you," she concluded. 
 
 '' You do tire me," he said, very gravely. 
 
 She did not pay much attention, she 
 thought he was only cross, and kissing 
 her hand to him as she left the room, she 
 smiled back on him one of her radiant 
 smiles. 
 
 She did not recognise the dark shadow 
 that preceded the blackness of night. She 
 did not guess that he was even then be- 
 neath that heavy pall that shuts out all 
 smiles for evermore. 
 
 " My poor little Rosamond," he said, 
 feeling for her hand, which he continued 
 to hold. '' Thank you, my little faithful 
 girl, and thank you for your readings. 
 They were not all lost on me, I think." 
 
 Mrs. Benson came in with some broth.
 
 CROWN-HARDEK. 137 
 
 He tried to swallow a spoonful, but could 
 not. 
 
 '' Where," he asked, " is Blanche ?" 
 
 " She is gone out for a walk with her 
 brother. Sir. She said she had a bad 
 headache." 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour, Mrs. 
 Benson came in again, and sat down by 
 Rosamond. 
 
 " Where is Blanche ?" he repeated. " I 
 want Blanche and Cecil." 
 
 " They are not yet come in, Sir ; but 
 they surely will very soon. I left word 
 they were to come up here." 
 
 She did not add that she had sent 
 messengers for them in every direction. 
 
 He muttered '' Blanche and Cecil" over 
 and over again, and at last struggled hard 
 to utter some word concerning them ; but 
 it was too late. 
 
 Not very long after, Blanche and Cecil 
 hurried into the room. Blanche flew to 
 the bedside, then stood there paralysed.
 
 138 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 " Dead !" she cried out at last, and burst- 
 ing into a violent agony of tears. She 
 kissed his cold face passionately over and 
 over again. Cecil, too, wept bitterly. 
 Both to a certain extent, Blanche most 
 keenly, felt what it is to feel too late 
 — that they had made a poor return for 
 his love.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 lyrR. CONWAY had, in a letter of direc- 
 tions to Mr. Henshawe, the lawyer, 
 desired, among other requests, that his will 
 should not be read until a certain time 
 specified, and in the presence of the whole 
 family, Stephen Granville included; that, 
 until then, all the members of the house 
 hold were to continue, as before, to reside 
 at Crown-Harden, at the expense of the 
 estate, a sufficient sum of money being 
 in the bank for that purpose; and that, 
 when it was read, Cecil and Blanche 
 Conway, Rosamond and Stephen Gran- 
 ville, with Mrs. Benson, and one or two 
 other legatees, were to be present.
 
 140 CKOWX-HARDEN. 
 
 It was many weeks before Blanclie or 
 Cecil recovered from the shock they had 
 sustained. By degrees, however, they 
 began to think of the future that was 
 opening bright before them. As they 
 were talking together on this and other 
 subjects, they smiled on seeing Mr. Orlando 
 Henshawe run across the shrubbery to 
 surprise Rosamond on her exit from the 
 walk to the tower. 
 
 " Do you think she would have him ?" 
 asked Cecil. 
 
 " Have him ! No," replied Blanche. 
 " She can't endure him. If she had liked 
 him, it would not be so very bad a match. 
 He will be pretty well off; bat he is a 
 vulgar little wretch." 
 
 '' Still, what can the poor girl expect ^ 
 And so plain, too. But if she dislikes him, 
 I am sure she shall always be welcome to 
 a home here, and I hope a more comfort- 
 able one for her than it has been." 
 
 " But, Cecil, she is not at all plain.
 
 CKOWN-HARDEX. 141 
 
 She has grown as tall as I am, and she 
 sometimes looks quite pretty. Have you 
 seen her in her new mourning ? Mr. 
 Henshawe had orders left to pay for every 
 one's mourning, even mine, and Rosamond 
 was to have the same that I have. She 
 used to be so wretchedly dressed ; but, 
 poor thing, she shall have good things 
 now. Don't you think we had better give 
 her an allowance ? She would feel less 
 dependent." 
 
 " Yes," said Cecil, '' and do let us give 
 her plenty. That horrid young rascal, her 
 brother, will be a bore." 
 
 " Oh ! we must pension him off," said 
 Blanche, '' I mean make him an allowance 
 too — perhaps we ought to settle some 
 trifle on him." 
 
 "Yes," replied Cecil, "I think so; 
 but he is a bad, ill-disposed young scoun- 
 drel, I never knew such a cruel boy as he 
 used to be." 
 
 One morning a note was brought in to
 
 142. CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 Cecil ; a relation of tlie family, a Mr. 
 Eicliard Conway from the Brazils, wished 
 to pay his respects at Crown-Harden. 
 
 '' Yes," said Blanche, " I remember 
 that Uncle Nicholas used to say there 
 were some distant connexions of his 
 in America ; write a civil note, Cecil, and 
 ask him to come and bring his carpet-bag, 
 and sleep here." 
 
 It was accordingly done, and a most 
 respectful and elaborately polite answer 
 was returned, accepting the invitation. 
 Cecil and Blanche both laughed at the 
 studied courtliness and humility of its style. 
 
 " A very poor relation indeed, I should 
 guess," observed Blanche. 
 
 A small carpet-bag of most ancient 
 aspect, which probably contained all Mr. 
 Eichard Conway's worldly goods, soon 
 made its appearance, the bearer bringing a 
 message that its owner would venture 
 to intrude on them in the course of the 
 evening.
 
 CPvOWN-HAEDEN. 143 
 
 '' I suppose, as we are not likely to have 
 other visitors, he may as well sleep in the 
 blue room," said Blanche, as she and 
 Eosamond sat reading in the library. 
 *' By the bye, Uncle Nicholas kept every- 
 thing locked up, I suppose the silver 
 things for the toilet-table are in the large 
 plate chest, he kept his keys in the study, 
 I think." 
 
 And she went to the small door that 
 opened from the library, and found it 
 fastened. 
 
 " Dear me ! Why is that locked ? I 
 wonder where the key is !" 
 
 " I have the key," said Rosamond. 
 
 '' You !" exclaimed Blanche, in great 
 astonishment, " what have you to do with 
 the keys ?" 
 
 '* Uncle Nicholas gave it to me when he 
 became so very ill," Rosamond answered. 
 
 " What on earth did he give it to you 
 for ?" asked Blanche, staring at her in 
 amazement.
 
 144j crown-harden. 
 
 '' I suppose being rather a housekeeper, 
 and rather careful. . . ." 
 
 '* Careful ! ves !" exclaimed Blanche. 
 
 t/ 
 
 '' T imagine you know how to take care of 
 yourself at any rate !" 
 
 This was quite a random shot, launched 
 forth in a pet, but Rosamond coloured, 
 and looked down. 
 
 "Pray have you any more keys en- 
 trusted to you, may I inquire ?" Blanche 
 demanded. 
 
 '' Only one besides." 
 
 " Which ? Unless I am asking an imper- 
 tinent question." 
 
 " The key of the cabinet," answered 
 Eosamond. 
 
 " What 1" cried Blanche, " that curious 
 old-fashioned silver key, that Uncle 
 Nicholas never would trust out of his own 
 keeping ? the key of his carved ebony 
 and oak cabinet, with inlaid doors !" 
 
 ''Yes," said Rosamond demurely. 
 
 " Why I his will, and deeds, and papers,
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 145 
 
 are kept there !" exclaimed Blanche, 
 *' what business have you with the key ? 
 Bring it to me directly." 
 
 '' I beg your pardon, Blanche," was 
 the reply, '' I am very sorry to disobey 
 . you in this one thing, but Uncle Nicholas 
 gave me the strictest injunctions to keep 
 these keys, and give them up to no one 
 but old Mr. Henshawe, and not to him 
 until the day and hour that the will is read," 
 
 '' What assurance ! what insolence !" 
 cried Blanche, then turning to her brother, 
 who just entered the library, '' Here is 
 this girl has got possession of the keys to 
 all Uncle Nicholas's valuables and his 
 will, and does not choose to give them up 
 to me." 
 
 '' I am surprised !" said Cecil indig- 
 nantly, ''you forget yourself." 
 
 " No, indeed, Cecil," answered Rosa- 
 mond, '' Blanche ought to tell you what I 
 told her, that my uncle left a strict charge 
 that I was to give them up to no one ; 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 1 46 CHOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 and I will not," she said firmly. *' Tf you 
 doubt me, ask Mr. Hensliawe," she added. 
 
 '' You have been acting the saintly 
 nurse to some purpose," said Blanche in 
 anger, pushing her aside with an air of 
 haughty contempt, to ring the bell. 
 
 Blanche had resolved to be very gra- 
 cious, and to patronize her cousin, but 
 this audacious assumption in the house 
 she considered her own, dispersed all 
 her good resolutions to the winds, and, 
 during the rest of the day she lost no 
 opportunity of mortifying and humiliating 
 Rosamond as far as she was able. 
 
 When Rosamond came in, in the evening 
 dressed in her rich black silk and crape, 
 Blanche, with all the satirical powers she 
 possessed, ridiculed, mocked, and laughed 
 at her in a manner that might pass off 
 for jest, but was very bitter earnest, and 
 increased the shyness Rosamond felt in her 
 unaccustomed grandeur, for she was en- 
 tirely unconscious how pretty she looked.
 
 CEOWX-HARDEN. 147 
 
 She was tall and slight, with a pale 
 transparency of complexion ; features not 
 very regular, but delicate ; there were 
 shadows round her large eyes, the colour 
 of which it was not easy to determine, 
 for it seemed to chans^e accordinof to the 
 light, or her own varying emotions. Under 
 different circumstances they were grey, 
 they were blue, or they were dark. Her 
 brown eyebrows were clearly defined ; her 
 hair, neither golden nor auburn, was of a 
 quiet brown, and not unbecoming to 
 her, though rather rough ; her long tresses 
 were rolled up in a thick loose mass at the 
 back of her gracefully-shaped head, and 
 swept carelessly from her forehead for 
 convenience sake ; having a natural wave 
 her hair was slightly raised, so as to give 
 much piquancy to her countenance, at least 
 when she did not conceal it by stooping 
 over her work, or leaning down to write, 
 her accustomed attitude. 
 
 When Cecil came in, he stared at her 
 in surprise. l 2
 
 148 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Miss Rosamond means to cut us all 
 out, I see." 
 
 Poor Rosamond blushed uneasily. 
 
 " Indeed, Cecil, I should be happier, 
 and far more comfortable, in my old black 
 stuff; I know too that it is far more 
 suitable to me." 
 
 " Not at all," said Cecil, good- 
 humou redly, " a pretty girl has a right 
 divine to silks and satins." 
 
 Rosamond blushed still more deeply, it 
 was the first civil thing Cecil had ever 
 addressed to her. 
 
 " Now cannot you believe that Henry 
 Yilleroy may admire her ?" whispered 
 Blanche. 
 
 " Pooh, nonsense !" ejaculated Cecil, not 
 at all pleased. 
 
 They were all sitting in the drawing- 
 room, which they had not lately used, 
 brilliantly lighted up, and adorned with 
 hot-house flowers, so that to Rosamond it 
 was quite a dissipation ; as she was look-
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 149 
 
 ing round at the white and carmine 
 blossoms, with an almost wax-like, unreal 
 lustre on their delicate petals by candle- 
 light, Mr. Richard Conway was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 He looked dazzled and bewildered, made 
 half-a-dozen bows all round before he got 
 across the room, and on making his way 
 towards Blanche, stumbled over a foot- 
 stool and nearly precipitated himself into 
 her arms. Blanche could not help laugh- 
 ing, but was glad when she at last brought 
 him to anchor on a chair near her, not the 
 large, comfortable one she offered, but a 
 small, rickety, papier mach^ one, merely 
 put there for ornament to fill a bare space. 
 It kept creaking ominously as he inclined 
 himself right and left to Cecil and Rosa- 
 mond, still performing bows and reverences, 
 quite unconscious in his nervous agitation 
 of the danger he was in. Blanche was still 
 laughing, but at the same time suffering 
 spasms of terror lest the spider-like legs
 
 150 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 of his fragile seat should prove treacherous, 
 and leave him prostrate on the floor. 
 
 Her laughing, instead of adding to his 
 consternation, seemed to afibrd him con- 
 solation ; he gathered courage from her 
 merry eyes, for surely, he thought, people, 
 when they laugh, must be in a good- 
 humour. This very timid supplicant, for 
 he kept begging pardon, for what offence 
 no one knew, was above six feet high, 
 elderly, though of what age it would be 
 impossible to guess, thin and large-boned, 
 with a face that would have been almost 
 handsome, but for two peculiarities, it was 
 so disproportionately long that you could 
 not help thinking that it had been pulled 
 out of shape, and its colour was that of well- 
 seasoned mahogany. His eyes were large 
 and dark, and would have been fine, but 
 for a nervous habit of winking them per- 
 petually. His clothes were good, and 
 according to the fashion, for he had just 
 bought them of a London tailor, but they
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. ]51 
 
 sat uneasily on him ; altogether there was 
 something indiscribable about him that 
 made jou smile, without displeasing you. 
 
 "Delightful!" said the stranger, " most 
 exhilarating ! to fall at once into a com- 
 pany so cheerful ! pray excuse the remark. 
 I hope I have your pardon for disturbing 
 you ladies ; pray, I beg of you, forgive 
 me." 
 
 " I assure you you do not disturb us at 
 all," said Blanche, with her winning smile. 
 
 " Too happy, too happy to hear you say 
 so, though I can hardly flatter myself so 
 far ; but I do entreat, I do beg of you to 
 forgive the intrusion — a relation, I can 
 scarcely venture to say, of these beautiful 
 and elegant ladies, and princely-looking 
 youth ; but a relation 1 would humbly 
 suggest, of the late lamented Nicholas 
 Conway." 
 
 On uttering the name his voice slightly 
 trembled, and he forthwith betook himself 
 to blowing his nose with a vehement and
 
 152 CHOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 resonant succession of explosions that 
 made Blanche almost jump out of her seat. 
 
 '' If you are a relation of our uncle's, 
 pray do not forget that you are ours as 
 well," said Cecil kindly. 
 
 '' Thank you, Sir I" he said, with another 
 deep bow ; *' you are too good — and that 
 young lady ?" he inquired, inclining his 
 head towards E-osamond. 
 
 " That is Rosamond Granville, also a 
 niece of my Uncle Nicholas," answered 
 Blanche. 
 
 " Permit me to offer my respects," he 
 said to Rosamond, with another deep bow, 
 that Rosamond scarcely knew how to re- 
 turn with suflQcient politeness. 
 
 " I have been long a stranger to Eng- 
 land," said the gentleman, " and am new 
 to the customs and habits of the country, 
 but I well remember that my poor grand- 
 mother used to say to me ' manners make 
 the man.' * Tabitha,' her husband used 
 to say, ' the man ought to make the
 
 CEOWN-HAKDEN, 153 
 
 manners !' implying that courtesy should 
 spring from a kind heart." 
 
 " Very true," said Cecil, '' may I offer 
 you something?" 
 
 And he advanced towards a small table, 
 where various delicacies were laid out in 
 honour of the fresh arrival, as adjuncts 
 to the tea that the man was handing 
 round. 
 
 Mr. Richard Conway accepted one of 
 the tiny cups of coffee, all gold and enamel, 
 with an elaborate carefulness, turning it 
 round, and eyeing it after emptying its 
 contents ; then observing that the footman 
 with his tray was leaving the room, he 
 hurriedly put down his cup, and ran 
 lightly to the door on tip-toes, to open it 
 for him, while the man passed out with a 
 fixed look of stolid contempt. Blanche 
 laughed again, especially when he turned 
 on her a questioning look of great sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 "My dear Sir," said Cecil, ''it is not
 
 154 CKOWN-HAEUEN. 
 
 the fashion to open the door for the foot- 
 man." 
 
 '* Now, really ! is it not ? I humbly beg 
 your pardon, but it appeared to me that 
 the poor man would be much embarrassed 
 carrying his tray, loaded with all these 
 costly articles of china, but I ask your for- 
 giveness, and will not so err again. I 
 shall always be thankful for any instruc- 
 tion you may grant me ; I shall indeed." 
 
 " I think the only thing people have to 
 do in good society is to do nothing," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 '' Dear, dear me ! to do nothing ! only 
 think ! never to assist any one in little 
 difficulties ?" 
 
 '' Ladies always," answered Blanche. 
 
 " That is a great consolation ! that, in- 
 deed, would be my pride and pleasure — a 
 deUghtful task ! But otherwise to do 
 nothing ! perhaps also to say nothing ?" 
 
 " JSTot to say much !" replied Blanche. 
 
 " So I might have presumed. It seems
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 155 
 
 to me the party here assembled was by no 
 means what could be termed loquacious. 
 I beg your pardon, I do indeed." 
 
 " I give it," said Blanche, smiling, " as 
 well as for all future offences." 
 
 '' Is not that a little rash ? excuse me," 
 said Mr. Richard Conway, impressively, 
 "just a little rash ?" 
 
 " I do not think you would injure me, 
 or q;ny one," she said. 
 
 " Thank you, for you said it as if you 
 meant it. I hope 1 shall not. Miss 
 Blanche, I have lived some time among 
 the Spanish Dons; there I made my 
 apologies on the score of being a John 
 Bull — here you must excuse me on ac- 
 count of my being half a Brazilian. But 
 that sweet young lady in the shade seems 
 like a violet beneath its leaves." 
 
 " Go forward, Rosamond, and make ac- 
 quaintance with our new relation." 
 
 Rosamond looked very shy, and Mr.
 
 156 OEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Richard Conway observed it in a moment. 
 
 '' No, I beg. I would rather suffer my- 
 self than occasion an uneasy feeling in so 
 gentle a bosom." 
 
 " You are quite a Don Quixote," said 
 Cecil, smiling. 
 
 " You could not flatter me more. I 
 know that I have my eccentricities, quite 
 as many as he, probably, and I should be 
 proud to emulate his other qualities." 
 
 On retiring to his room, his good nights 
 were as emphatic as his greetings. He would 
 hardly venture to appropriate to his own 
 use one of the silver flat-candlesticks, and 
 appeared, in every respect, so afraid of 
 offendino^, that Blanche thouofht he must 
 be very uncomfortable. 
 
 She and her brother laughed merrily 
 at Don Ricardo's peculiarities, and thence- 
 forward he always bore that name. 
 Blanche adopted it as a sort of excuse for 
 his unusual style of manners. 
 
 '' Now, Cecil," she asked, as the sub-
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 157 
 
 ject of the new arrival was dismissed ; 
 *' caDDot you understand that Mr. Villeroy 
 may admire E-osamond ? She has a look 
 about her that is both peculiar and inter- 
 esting ?" 
 
 " I cannot imagine what can put such 
 an idea into your head, Blanche. It seems 
 to me too absurd, and with no foundation 
 of any kind whatever." 
 
 " I have a little — a very little," said 
 Blanche. 
 
 " What is it ?" he asked, " what can 
 you mean ?" 
 
 " I have seen him meet Rosamond in 
 private, and once I saw him slip a letter 
 into her hand." 
 
 " Impossible !" cried Cecil. " He is 
 the very soul of honour ! you must be 
 mistaken — if it were so — if he were takinor 
 
 o 
 
 advantage of her ignorance, he should 
 answer to me for it !" he exclaimed, 
 flushing up, his blue eyes sparkhng. 
 
 " If he means anything, he means
 
 158 OEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 honourably I am certain," said Blanche, 
 " so do not be so fiery." 
 
 " It was a chance, I am persuaded," 
 insisted Cecil. 
 
 '' No," said Blanche, '* I happened to 
 be at the passage-window at the back, 
 Rosamond was coming down the shrub- 
 bery walk from her dear old tower. I 
 saw Mr. Villeroy jump over the fencing, 
 and run across to her. That was the 
 very last time T ever saw him ; he is gone 
 abroad now. Rosamond is so very young, 
 he may think it better to wait before he 
 comes forward. At all events, we must 
 not interfere, it would be a shame to spoil 
 her chance, if she has one. Mr. Villeroy 
 is silent and stupid, but I do think 
 highly of him. The Granvilles are a very 
 good family, you know, and you must 
 have noticed how very lady-like Rosamond 
 looks." 
 
 Cecil looked petrified, but said no more.
 
 159 
 
 CHAPTER XTI. 
 
 rT did not appear that Rosamond'g 
 newly-acquired liberty added to her 
 happiness. Though Blanche was far 
 kinder to her than she had ever been 
 before, and she was free to please herself, 
 her spirits were unequal, and her nerves 
 more susceptible than formerly. She 
 seemed to avoid the society of her cousins, 
 and generally made her escape immedi- 
 ately after breakfast, to remain invisible 
 the rest of the day, until she was forced 
 again to show herself. 
 
 " How pale and miserable Rosamond 
 looks," said Cecil, '* she cannot get over 
 the death of poor Uncle Nicholas ; she
 
 160 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 wore herself quite out nursing him. I 
 will take her out for a ride, it will do her 
 good — she shall have Zuleika." 
 
 '* Rosamond knows nothing at all about 
 riding," objected Blanche; " I never saw 
 her mounted but once — that was on a 
 donkey, and she was thrown." 
 
 '' Oh, nobody but a Greenwich rough 
 can ride a donkey," said her brother; 
 " Zuleika is as quiet as a lamb." 
 
 '' Rosamond !" called Blanche, seeing 
 her pass, " come here, child. Cecil is so 
 very kind, he says he will take you out 
 for a ride on Zuleika, it is very good of 
 him." 
 
 " Oh ! it is," said Rosamond, " but — 
 but —I have no habit." 
 
 '' Never mind," Blanche answered, " I'll 
 rig you out — I'll tell Mrs. Benson to give 
 you an old one of mine — come along." 
 
 Poor Rosamond followed Blanche 
 meekly, to be arrayed like a lamb for 
 the sacrifice, and presently re-appeared,
 
 CBOWN-HAEDEN, 161 
 
 looking very pretty and piquante in her 
 habit and tall hat. 
 
 They were all standing at the dining- 
 room window waiting: for the horses. 
 
 '' I hope she won't come down and 
 break her knees," said Blanche, thinking 
 of Zuleika. 
 
 " Do people often break their knees 
 when they fall off a horse ?" inquired 
 E-osamond, tremulously. 
 
 '''Not you, child ! Zuleika — you are more 
 likely to break your nose." 
 
 If this was meant to be re-assuring, 
 Rosamond did not feel it so. 
 
 Presently the two beautiful animals ap- 
 peared coming up the drive, led by a 
 groom. Zuleika was a thorough-bred, a 
 bright bay, showing her birth and blood 
 in every line of her sloping shoulders, 
 slender limbs and small head, tapering 
 elegantly to the little narrow nose, but 
 above all in the large, soft dark eyes, so 
 gentle, yet wild. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 "Rosamond, you must not throw her 
 down," said Blanche. 
 
 "I!" exclaimed Rosamond, "oh dear, 
 no ! but I am afraid she will throw me 
 down." 
 
 " Pooh ! Cecil will pick you up again." 
 
 At this moment Cecil went out to the 
 horses, looking to see that the saddle on 
 Zuleika was all right. 
 
 " You must not be afraid of the horses," 
 said Blanche reprovingly. " Nothing pro- 
 vokes Cecil so much as people being afraid 
 of them, and it is so very kind of him to 
 trust you with Zuleika." 
 
 Most fervently did Rosamond wish that 
 he had not — yet she felt at the same time 
 warmly grateful for his kindness, a senti- 
 ment which added a painful sense of self- 
 reproach to her terror. 
 
 " Now then," called out Cecil, cheer- 
 fully, " we're all ready." 
 
 Rosamond came out followed by Blanche, 
 and Cecil placed his hand to mount her.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 163 
 
 So utterly ignorant was she, that she 
 turned to Blanche and said, 
 
 " Does Cecil want something ?" 
 
 " Only to put you on your saddle, child ; 
 put your foot in his hand." 
 
 It seemed to her very rude and im- 
 pertinent, but, of course, she did as she 
 was told, and was amazed to find herself 
 chucked into her saddle as easily as a 
 pebble into the water. 
 
 Blanche, with her white hand on the 
 neck of Cecil's black horse, was saying a 
 word or two, when Zuleika, impatient at 
 the restraint, began pawing the ground. 
 
 '* Oh, dear !" exclaimed Rosomond, 
 '' what is the horse scratching about 
 for ? I am sure she does not like me 
 at all." 
 
 Blanche laughed, and Cecil tamed to 
 her, smiling. 
 
 " We will go gently at first, then when 
 we get on the turf you shall have a famous 
 canter." 
 
 M 2
 
 164 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 '* I like very much going at a foot's pace, 
 I think it is so very nice ; I had rather go 
 at a foot's pace all the way, please," urged 
 Rosamond. 
 
 '' Oh, no !" laughed Cecil, " you would 
 find that very dull." 
 
 So saying, they walked their horses 
 down the drive — Rosamond following Cecil, 
 who turned round and glanced at his com- 
 panion, his expression changed to disgust, 
 with a slight tincture of amusement. 
 Rosamond could not be said to sit her 
 horse, she was gathered up in a heap on 
 her saddle, her chin but little removed 
 from the pommel. 
 
 " You must sit quite upright," said Cecil. 
 
 " I feel so , much safer a little hunched 
 up," said Rosamond. 
 
 " Oh ! but you must," Cecil declared, 
 and with an almost superhuman effort 
 Rosamond did it. 
 
 She managed to bear the walk down the 
 avenue, and on to the road, with tolerable
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 165 
 
 fortitude ; but when Cecil, beckoning to 
 her to come beside him, turned his horse 
 and hers on to a wide level of turf along- 
 side the road, and both apparently by the 
 same impulse went off at what appeared 
 to her a giddy race, her agony was all but 
 unendurable. 
 
 Blanche, mounted on a winged griffin, 
 could not have been capable of half the 
 terror poor Rosamond experienced. Her 
 breath almost forsook her — road, trees, 
 cottages seemed whirling round her in 
 circling rapidity ; at every bound she fully 
 expected to be hurled into the sky, or over 
 the high hedge into the ploughed field on 
 the other side ; at last a faint little " Oh !" 
 escaped her, and Cecil instantly drew in. 
 
 '' Not tired yet, I hope ?" he inquired, 
 smiling. 
 
 *'Yes," feebly articulated Eosamond, 
 " and rather frightened." 
 
 ''Frightened!" exclaimed Cecil; "what 
 at?"
 
 166 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 But looking at her, lie saw that she was 
 very pale; he held out his hand to her, she 
 leant on it, glad of its support. 
 
 " We will walk a little again," he said, 
 thinking she would soon be rested. " Now," 
 he said, after a few minutes, and off they 
 went again like the wind, as it seemed to 
 Rosamond ; instead of gaining courage she 
 lost what little was left her. 
 
 '' I can't !" she cried. 
 
 And Cecil saw her bending from side to 
 side ; he stopped instantly. 
 
 '' You don't like it ?" he asked. 
 
 '' No," she answered fervently. 
 
 " Then, perhaps, you would rather turn 
 back ?" asked Cecil, disappointed. 
 
 " I am very sorry, but I would, please," 
 said Rosamond in a penitent voice. 
 
 "Would you like me to hold your 
 bridle ?" asked Cecil kindly. 
 
 '' Oh, thank you ! thank you ! but it is 
 so much trouble."
 
 CBOWN-HAEDEN. 167 
 
 *'Not the least," said Cecil. And so 
 they returned tamely home. 
 
 The groom, thinking something must 
 have happened, came to meet them at the 
 gates. 
 
 " Perhaps you had rather get down here, 
 and walk home ?" inquired Cecil. 
 
 '^ I should, very much indeed, if you 
 don't mind," answered she, half ready to 
 die with fear, confusion, and shyness ; for, 
 thought she, Cecil must be very angry 
 with me, though he says nothing. 
 
 Cecil threw his own bridle to the groom 
 as he got off his horse, and went to lift 
 Rosamond down. 
 
 " Why, you are trembling all over !" he 
 said ; *' you can scarcely stand ! why did 
 not you tell me ?" 
 
 " I was so ashamed, when you were so 
 good !" answered Rosamond, in great em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " Take my arm," said Cecil, and they 
 walked on some time in silence, Rosamond
 
 1 68 CEOWN-HAEDE?^. 
 
 wishing the earth would open and swallow 
 her up. 
 
 "Whj, Eosamond !" said Cecil, about 
 five minutes later, "you surely are not 
 afraid of me /" He saw that she blushed 
 scarlet, "You can't be! can you?" he 
 repeated. 
 
 "I don't know," she whispered, 
 
 *' I hope not," he said, half reproach- 
 fully, half kindly ; '' and why ? in the 
 name of goodness, what for ?" 
 
 " I don't know," again replied Rosa- 
 mond, unable to find another word. 
 
 '' I am afraid Blanche will laugh at us 
 dreadfully," said Cecil, endeavouring to 
 remove her uncomfortable embarrassment, 
 " she told me you never rode but once, 
 and that was on a donkey." 
 
 Rosamond burst out laughing. " And I 
 got thrown off that !" 
 
 " You will never be an amazon," re- 
 marked Cecil smiling. 
 
 " I shall never be anything but a don-
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 169 
 
 key myself," Rosamond exclaimed. " I 
 am so vexed at being so stupid, and when 
 you were so kind !" 
 
 "Ob, nothing of the sort — don't flatter 
 yourself, little cousin. I wanted Zuleika 
 to go out ; but T am surprised that any 
 one can be afraid of Zuleika." 
 
 " I am not at all afraid of her, not in 
 the least, when I'm not on her." 
 
 " Then if you are better now, shall we 
 go and have a look at her in the stables ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! please, if I may." 
 
 So they went together to the stables ; 
 E/Osamond stroked gently her soft velvet 
 nose, and kissed her. 
 
 '' Dear Zuleika," she said, half tenderly, 
 half laughing, " I beg your pardon." 
 
 Perhaps the little caressing words were 
 partly meant for another hearer, for as 
 she spoke a glance flashed from under her 
 long eyelashes towards Cecil. 
 
 It was but an instant, a nothing — yet 
 it dwelt on his fancy.
 
 170 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IT was rather odd that such a nervous 
 ■^ and timid man as Mr. Richard Conway 
 appeared to be, should pay so very long 
 a visit. He certainly made one or two 
 offers to leave, but with so palpable a 
 reluctance that Cecil, who was always 
 good-natured, pressed him to stay. 
 
 He amused Blanche, who got really to 
 like him ; he was always anxious to do 
 whatever pleased any of the party, how- 
 ever trifling or troublesome the thing 
 might be, but he never put aside his 
 complimentary formalities, or his self- 
 depreciation.
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 171 
 
 He was, too, so very particular never 
 to encroach, so over-scrupulous. 
 
 He invariably chose the dishes that were 
 least approved, he was always ready to do 
 all that other people thought disagreeable. 
 He would not so much as take possession 
 of his own hat when going out, without 
 asking permission, and accepted the least 
 civiHty, under protest as it were, ever 
 declaring his own unworthiness. 
 
 He did more, he said he had brought a 
 few trinkets with him from Brazil, if his 
 friends would condescend to accept them. 
 
 Blanche expected to see some trifling 
 filigree brooch or other, but was much 
 surprised when he opened the little un- 
 pretending pasteboard box he had in his 
 hand. For Cecil he produced a pin, with 
 a magnificent diamond. For Blanche, a 
 beautiful cross and ear-rings of the same ; 
 and for Rosamond, a pair of handsome 
 bracelets set with rubies. 
 
 He was greatly abashed at the admira-
 
 172 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 tion they excited and the thanks he re- 
 ceived, and kept declaring they were mere 
 trifles unworthy to offer. As soon as he 
 retired to hide his blushes, Blanche turn- 
 ing about her ear-rings said, 
 
 " I suppose they are real." 
 
 '' I am sure they are," said Cecil. 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, he is rich," she 
 suggested. 
 
 '' No, I should think not," Cecil an- 
 swered, *' besides poor men always make 
 the handsomest presents." 
 
 '' You ought to have these," said Rosa- 
 mond, nervously putting her bracelets on 
 the table before Blanche. 
 
 ''Pooh, nonsense ! of course you must 
 keep tliem, child ! Do you like them ?" 
 Blanche inquired. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very much," said E-osamond. 
 
 " Let me put them on for you," said Cecil. 
 
 Such an excess of gallantry quite 
 startled Rosamond, who was at first a 
 little doubtful how it was meant.
 
 CROWN-HARDEX. 173 
 
 But the J all adorned themselves with 
 theh^ presents, to greet Don Ricardo on 
 his return to the drawing-room. 
 
 A few days after, Rosamond announced, 
 in some agitation, that she had heard 
 from her brother, and that he would very 
 soon be back in England. 
 
 " I suppose he is to come here ?" she 
 asked, timidly. 
 
 " Of course," answered Cecil, " he has 
 a right, by our uncle's will, and hereafter 
 we shall be very happy to see him when- 
 ever it suits him to be here." 
 
 Eosamond thanked him, and Blanche, 
 unseen by her cousin, made a wry face. 
 
 The young gentleman arrived rather 
 sooner even than he was expected, and 
 Blanche saw at a glance that he was not im- 
 proved. Though scarcely more than a boy, 
 he looked like a man, there was a prema- 
 'turely old and knowing look about him. He 
 was still short, but thick-set and muscular, 
 with a pair of dark, tight-curling whiskers ;
 
 174 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 indeed any one would have guessed him to 
 be five years older than he really was. 
 His features were rather handsome, but 
 the expression was so unpleasant that it 
 annoyed one to look at him. 
 
 He betrayed not the faintest sign of affec- 
 tionf or Rosamond, but scanned her curiously 
 and critically. Towards Cecil there was a 
 mixture of the defiant and the deceitful, 
 towards Blanche an ill-concealed aversion, 
 towards Mr. Richard Conway the most 
 bare-faced insolence and contempt. 
 
 He openly sneered at every word he 
 said, mimicked his ultra-politeness before 
 his face, and affected to draw him out for 
 the amusement of the company. 
 
 Don Ricardo saw it all, but resented 
 nothing ; he was not a whit less polite to 
 the young cub than to the rest of the 
 party, and only returned his rudeness by 
 a mild but grave look. To Rosamond 
 this conduct of her brother was misery, 
 but she was quite aware that any effort to
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 175 
 
 check him would only make him worse. 
 His larks too, as he denominated them, 
 were always odious and mischievous. 
 
 He would pour the contents of half a 
 salt-cellar, unobserved, into Don Ricardo's 
 coffee, and the poor man would drink it 
 submissively, to the boundless delight of 
 his tormentor. 
 
 He was unfortunately an absent as well 
 as a nervous man, ?.nd more than once, 
 when diving into his pocket for his hand- 
 kerchief, he grasped a handful of stinging 
 and poisonous plants. 
 
 But these amusements were his least 
 hateful ones ; he was still cruel to animals, 
 and would torment them with a slyness of 
 malice that made Cecil indignant. If he 
 entered the stables, the horses were uneasy 
 and restive, the dogs ran away at sight of 
 him, often with a yelp of terror ; in short, 
 he was abhorred by every living creature, 
 man or animal, except his sister and one 
 congenial spirit, Mr. Orlando Henshawe, 
 who was amused with his jests, and ad-
 
 176 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 mired him so fervently that the two soon 
 became fast friends, and the more intimate 
 he became with the lawyer's son, the more 
 audacious and disagreeable he was. 
 
 Unfortunately, the elder Mr. Henshawe, 
 who, besides being a slow, dilatory man, 
 was out of health, had gone away for 
 a fortnight for change of air, and nothing 
 could be proceeded with until his return, 
 so that Stephen Granville had abundant 
 opportunity to confirm everyone in the 
 bad opinion they had formed of him. 
 
 Cecil could scarcely refrain from knock- 
 ing him down several times ; it was only 
 the feeling that he was a guest that 
 enabled him to have patience. Blanche 
 never failed to tell him openly that he 
 was more odious than anything she had 
 ever imagined. 
 
 She had a favourite old mastiff that 
 Stephen' hated because he was excessively 
 afraid of him. Turk, who had his own 
 private reasons for dreading and disliking
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 177 
 
 him, never saw him without growling and 
 showing his teeth, and Cecil told Granville 
 one day that, if he ever dared to meddle 
 with Turk, he would turn him out of the 
 house without ceremony. Stephen gave 
 him a look of white rage, and ground his 
 strong teeth, but made no answer. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 178 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 A T last, Mr. Henshawe returned to 
 ■^ Deerham, and the day was fixed 
 for reading the will. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, all the persons named 
 were seated in the library, including Mr. 
 Richard Conway, who had given a timid 
 hint of a wish to be present, and Cecil at 
 once asked him. 
 
 Rosamond seemed unusually agitated, 
 turning red and pale by turns, and looked 
 so thoroughly miserable that Cecil pitied 
 her. 
 
 As soon as everyone was settled, Mr. 
 Henshawe asked her for the keys. As 
 she gave them, her hand trembled visibly.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 179 
 
 Mr. Henshawe examined the silver key 
 with interest ; it was adorned with antique 
 carving, the wards formed a Latin cross, 
 and the handle was an angel's head; as he 
 turned it about, his son Orlando jumped 
 up, and looked at it inquisitively over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Quite a curious relic," observed Mr. 
 Henshawe. " Miss Granville, my late 
 friend desired me to charge you to take 
 the utmost care of this key, and never to 
 suffer it to go out of your possession, or 
 to entrust it to any other person whom- 
 soever. Acting on these directions, I 
 will accompany you, Miss Granville, to 
 the cabinet." 
 
 And the two entered the little study, 
 Rosamond, when she came out, looking 
 ashy pale. 
 
 The will was then read out by Mr. 
 Henshawe, in the presence of the family, 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Benson, and one or two 
 old servants who were also legatees. 
 
 N 2
 
 180 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 First, there was a long enumeration of 
 his effects, a description of his property 
 of every kind, and a statement of how 
 it was acquired or inherited, to which no 
 one listened very attentively, and then 
 followed these words : — 
 
 " I, Nicholas Conway, being in sound 
 mind, do give and devise (with such ex- 
 ceptions as are hereinafter named) all 
 my property of every kind whatsoever, 
 money in the funds, Crown-Harden 
 House, the whole of my landed estate 
 and tenements to my nephew and niece, 
 Rosamond and Stephen Granville, and 
 to their heirs for ever, to be divided in 
 the following manner; to my niece, Rosa- 
 mond Granville, the house of Crown- 
 Harden, and personalty of every descrip- 
 tion, with the whole of the adjoining 
 estate, land and tenements. To my 
 nephew, Stephen Granville, the sum of 
 fifteen thousand pounds, and, moreover, 
 I request my niece, Rosamond Granville,
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 181 
 
 to add unto her name the name of Con- 
 way, and to her husband, if she has one, 
 I make the same request, and to her and 
 her heirs for ever; that one of the name 
 of Conway be the owner of these, my 
 houses and estates, to wit the aforesaid 
 house of Crown-Harden, and the estates 
 and tenements thereunto appertaining. 
 To my nephew, Cecil Conway, I hereby 
 leave a legacy of one thousand pounds. 
 To my niece, Blanche Conway, I likewise 
 leave a legacy of one thousand pounds, 
 and no more, for that I, an aged and 
 unhappy man, do sorely repent the vain 
 love and affection I wasted on those un- 
 grateful children of my heart ; and also 
 do I repent my harshness towards my 
 kind and dear niece, Rosamond Granville, 
 who, in my affliction and sorrow, has 
 been my only comfort. And whereas I do 
 well know, and have myself experienced, 
 the sweet and forgiving temper of my 
 dear niece, Hosamond Granville, I here
 
 182 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 forbid her to alienate any portion of 
 the property I bequeath to her, to 
 any person or persons, or to either of 
 her cousins — Cecil or Blanche Conway; 
 but if, contrary to these my instructions, 
 she should attempt so to act, it is my 
 will that such sum or property, be it what 
 it may, shall be forfeited, and be paid to 
 such pubhc charity as my executors shall 
 devise. And whereas my niece, Rosamond 
 Granville, is young and inexperienced, lest 
 she should, by selfish and unprincipled 
 means, be deluded into an unhappy 
 marriage, I forbid her to give her hand in 
 marriage to Cecil Conway ; yet if, in de- 
 fiance of this, my injunction, she do 
 intermarry with the aforesaid Cecil Con- 
 way, then, in that case, she shall forfeit 
 the house and estate of Crown-Harden, 
 and all personalty, money, goods, and 
 chattels that in this, my will, I had be- 
 queathed unto her ; and such estates, 
 houses, personalty, money, goods, and
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 183 
 
 chattels shall all be given to such public 
 charity as my executors shall elect ; for I 
 will not that these unworthy persons — 
 Cecil or Blanche Conway — receive any 
 benefit from me or mine, beyond the sum 
 of one thousand pounds each, which I be- 
 queath unto them to save them from want 
 and utter destitution. I do appoint for 
 my executors and trustees John Henshawe, 
 lawyer, and Sir Charles Townsend, Bart., 
 which last-named I also name as sole 
 guardian to my niece Rosamond Granville." 
 
 Then followed various small bequests 
 and legacies, all read aloud in the same 
 impassive tone as the cruel words that 
 almost rent in twain the two hearts they 
 were levelled at. 
 
 Blanche wept violently and unre- 
 strainedly. Cecil sat fixed and listening, 
 every particle of colour had forsaken his 
 face ; he restrained every tear, but a thick 
 convulsive sob once or twice nearly choked 
 him.
 
 1 84 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Rosamond covered her face with both 
 hands, while Stephen shot malicious spark- 
 ling glances at those two unhappy ones, 
 and Orlando Henshawe smiled outright. 
 
 '' Every word of this will is Mr. Nicholas 
 Conway's own writing, unassisted by me, 
 whom he never even consulted," said Mr. 
 Henshawe ; " will you come with me. Miss 
 Granville, and deposit the will in the 
 cabinet from whence it came, with the 
 other deeds that are there, until I am able 
 to attend to the business connected with 
 it?" 
 
 " What other deeds ?" asked Mr. Richard 
 Conway, who had, until now, been sitting 
 with his back to everyone, and his face to 
 the wall. 
 
 " The will of Mr. Reuben Conway, the 
 elder brother, from whom Nicholas Con- 
 way derived the property, and a few other 
 papers and notes of no legal importance. 
 If you desire to see them, you can do so 
 in my presence," said Mr. Henshawe.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 185 
 
 *' ^0, no ; I really beg your pardon," 
 said Richard Conway mechanically. 
 
 Rosamond and the lawyer replaced the 
 will, and again returned to the library. 
 All but those most deeply interested had 
 left the apartment, but Stephen Granville 
 still remained, leaning against the door- 
 way, whispering to Orlando Henshawe, 
 and indulging in suppressed laughter. As 
 Rosamond approached, he jerked out his 
 elbow at her. 
 
 " Here, you ," he said, " do you 
 
 want to see the old dog hung?" 
 
 Rosamond turned sharp on him, and 
 caught hold of his arm with a grip like steel. 
 
 " If you dare to injure any living thing 
 here, especially him, you leave this house. 
 I cast you off for ever — go." 
 
 Then she followed him out of the room. 
 
 Blanche and Cecil went up to Blanche's 
 private apartment together. She rang, 
 and desired her maid to pack up her things 
 immediately.
 
 186 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " And will you ask Thomas to do the 
 same for me," said Cecil. 
 
 The maid left the room, and Blanche 
 laid her head on the arm of the sofa, and 
 sobbed convulsively. 
 
 "Oh, Cecil!" she exclaimed suddenly, 
 looking up piteously in his face, " how 
 unhappy Uncle Mcholas must have been !" 
 
 Cecil threw himself on the sofa by her 
 side, put his arms round her, and drew 
 her towards him. 
 
 '' You are a generous girl, Blanche ; 
 yes — I will think only of that." 
 
 Just then they heard a modest tap at 
 the door, and Mrs. Benson entered. 
 
 " Oh, dear me !" she said, crying, 
 *' surely you don't mean to go away ; 
 surely you don't mean to leave this !" 
 
 " Yes, and at once," said Cecil, *' dear 
 Mrs. Benson, will you kindly see that our 
 things — nothing but clothes and dress — 
 nothing else whatever are sent to the 
 Station, directed to .... let me think
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 187 
 
 .... yes, to Smith's, Pall Mall, where I 
 deal, he will take them in, and my letters 
 may be sent there too ; here is a sovereign 
 for our own servants, I fear I must not 
 spare more." 
 
 *' Nor that either," said Mrs. Benson, 
 pushing it back. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I insist ; will you give it ? 
 We are very well off for the present. 
 Good-bye, dear Mrs. Benson." 
 
 He shook her hand ; she then went to 
 Blanche, who gave her an affectionate 
 farewell, and the good soul seeing she was 
 not wanted, left them. 
 
 Not long after came another knock at 
 the door. 
 
 '' Rosamond !" exclaimed Blanche, look- 
 ing up, her eyes flashing through tears. 
 " I will not see her, she shall not come in 
 here." 
 
 Cecil went to the door, where stood 
 Rosamond, white and tremblino^.
 
 188 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Blanclie — Cecil," she said in a hoarse 
 tone, '' this is no fault of mine." 
 
 '* Did you know nothing whatever ?" 
 asked Cecil. 
 
 '' I will tell you," she said. 
 
 " That is enough," answered Cecil. 
 Then he added, gently, " Rosamond, I 
 wish that this fortune may bring you more 
 of happiness than it has of honour." 
 
 " Oh ! do not go," .... she began. 
 
 " Do you think we would stay here ? 
 Not one hour." 
 
 Rosamond clasped her hands imploringly ; 
 Cecil glanced back at Blanche, who now 
 stepped haughtily forward, drew Cecil 
 within the room, shut the door and bolted 
 it. She then went to her dressing-room, 
 which opened into the room they were in, 
 bathed her eyes and face, and put her 
 things on ; in ten minutes she came back, 
 prepared for going out. 
 
 "We will walk to the station, Cecil," 
 she said, " I shall be glad of the walk."
 
 CROWN -HAEDEN. 189 
 
 Cecil and she went quickly down the 
 broad staircase into an inner hall, where 
 a glass-door opened into the garden, and, 
 unseen and unnoticed, the young heir and 
 proud heiress of Crown-Harden, as they 
 had only the day before supposed them- 
 selves to be, made their way along, leaving 
 behind them, without one look back, the 
 home they had always considered their 
 own. 
 
 " Oh !" said Blanche, with a deep, long 
 sigh, after they had proceeded some dis- 
 tance, " I feel better now. The air does 
 one good. Where are we going, Cecil ?" 
 
 " Do not you think to town in the first 
 instance ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " that will do 
 very well." 
 
 A little farther on, outside the park, by 
 one and the same impulse, they both 
 stopped short at the turn of the lane and 
 looked round. It was the last view they 
 could have of the old place. It was a
 
 190 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 clear, still Winter afternoon. There it 
 stood, silent and venerable, beneath the 
 grey December sky, a large, heavy, dark 
 mass of building ; the leafless trees seemed 
 mourning around it, the brown, straight 
 arcades of clipped lime-trees, where 
 Blanche used to run up and down as a 
 child, looked stern and melancholy now ; 
 in front, the flat level melted into the 
 mists of evening, and behind the spur of 
 mountain, stretching like a promontory 
 into a lake, frowned threateningly on the 
 outcasts, while, like a lonely watch-tower, 
 the tall ruin pointed upwards at the 
 darkening sky. They stood speechless 
 some minutes, then Blanche drew Cecil on. 
 
 " After bearing this," she said, *' we can 
 bear anything." 
 
 Alas ! she knew not what she was say- 
 ing. At the station they found the last 
 train for London just starting, and had 
 only time to get their tickets and jump 
 into the carriasfe. Blanche smiled.
 
 CEOWN-HAPvDEN. 191 
 
 "We have done it quickly and well," 
 sbe said ; " I think we may feel some con- 
 fidence in ourselves, we do not seem to be 
 mere helpless fine people. Cecil, I know 
 where we will go. Mrs. Scott and Caroline 
 Scott had very cheap and tidy apartments 
 in Berkley Street. I remember speaking 
 to the person who keeps them, a very re- 
 spectable woman." 
 
 *' We will then," said Cecil, who was 
 not able to recover himself so quickly as 
 Blanche, for his heart was heavy indeed. 
 
 ''I am sorry," said Blanche, ''not to 
 have said good-bye to poor Don Ricardo ; 
 I am sure he really cares for us. I will 
 write him a note. Do you think he is 
 rich, Cecil ?" 
 
 " No," said Cecil, " I know that he is 
 poor." 
 
 " You know ! how ? you may be mis- 
 taken," observed Blanche. 
 
 ''Perhaps," said Cecil, who had not 
 energy to dispute the point. " Martinez
 
 192 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 is in town, is he not ?'* lie asked, after a 
 long silence. 
 
 Blanche answered *' Yes," and no more. 
 
 At such a time, the man to whom she 
 was affianced ought to have been the first 
 to whom she should look for support, but 
 Blanche experienced no such feeling. 
 
 They found the apartments she had re- 
 ferred to unoccupied, and at once engaged 
 them ; but what had appeared absurdly 
 cheap to the heiress of Nicholas Conway, 
 was not so in their present circumstances, 
 though Blanche repeated again and again 
 how moderate they were, and what a nice 
 little tiny nut-shell they had crept into. 
 
 In the course of the week she received 
 three letters through Mr. Smith ; one was 
 from E-ichard Conway, another from Mr. 
 Henshawe, and the last from Joachim 
 Martinez. Richard Conway said : 
 
 '•Will you pardon me, my dear Miss 
 Blanche, for thus venturing to address 
 you without your permission ? I may be
 
 CEOWX-HAEDEX. 193 
 
 doing wrong, I fear I am taking a liberty, 
 yet if so, excuse it, and only blame me 
 because my feelings are stronger than my 
 judgment. I am grieved beyond the power 
 of words to express at the turn affairs have 
 taken. How Mr. Nicholas Conway could 
 have reconciled it to himself, after bring- 
 ing you up in every luxury and expense, in 
 the full belief that you were to inherit the 
 ample fortune he himself inherited from 
 his elder brother, and then treat you as 
 he has done, I cannot understand. It 
 appears (not however from any complaints 
 on the part of Miss Granville) that to- 
 wards her he was far from kind during his 
 lifetime. He probably might desire to 
 make some reparation on his death-bed; 
 but not by utterly despoiling you and your 
 brother. And now permit me, if I dare 
 do so, to offer my heartfelt wish that I 
 could be of use to you. I am only in pos- 
 session of an annuity of one hundred 
 pounds ; it is little enough, but more than 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 I require ; my only doubt is how to make 
 it available for your use. I can live on 
 fifty-five pounds a year ; in what manner 
 can I dispose best of the forty-five remain- 
 ing so as to accommodate you ? It is such 
 a trifle, I should be ashamed even to men- 
 tion it, except as a proof of my profound 
 respect and regard. I scarcely venture to 
 give my opinion, still less my advice on 
 this or any other point, yet my heart 
 impels me irresistibly to add one word 
 more. You naturally lay much of the 
 blame for what has occurred on Miss 
 Granville. I am absolutely certain that 
 she does not deserve it, and that she re- 
 grets more deeply than any other person 
 the injustice you have sustained. I am 
 very unwilling to hold out what may prove 
 delusive hopes, yet I have a faint glimmer- 
 ing of expectation, that I, humble as I am, 
 may find some means to be of use to you, 
 so you and your respected brother must 
 not yield to despondency."
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 195 
 
 Blanche read this deprecatory letter, 
 half laughingly, and half tearfully. 
 
 " What a dear old soul ! wanting to 
 give up nearly half his wretched pittance 
 to us ; silly man ! sees everything couleur 
 de rose. Miss Rosamond must be an angel 
 in his dear, short-sighted, old eyes, be- 
 cause she wears petticoats. But what 
 can he possibly mean by that obscure hint 
 at the end of his letter ? What do you 
 think, Cecil ?" she asked. 
 
 " Nothing," said Cecil, gloomily. 
 
 '* I do ; I am sure he does mean some- 
 thing, though I cannot imagine what," 
 said Blanche. 
 
 " You are very sanguine, Blanche, 
 your spirits are wonderful." 
 
 " I hope not more than you like, dear 
 Cecil," she said, kindly. 
 
 " No, no," he replied, " God knows I 
 should be a brute if I did not admire your 
 courage and hopefulness. I should be a 
 brute if I disheartened you." 
 
 2
 
 196 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 " We will see what Mr. Hensliawe 
 says," Blanche rejoined, opening his letter 
 hurriedly ; " who knows ? it may give 
 some explanation of Ei chard Conway's 
 meaning." 
 
 But it was not the case ; on the con- 
 trary, it quenched every lingering spark 
 of hope on the subject. He said that he 
 was again very unwell, and that there was 
 such a press of business, in consequence of 
 his late absence from home, that he was 
 not yet able to give his attention to the 
 affairs at Crown-Harden, but as soon as 
 it was possible, he would have Mr. 
 Nicholas Conway's will proved in Doctor's 
 Commons, and also have one or two 
 attested copies of the same executed, 
 when he would see that one was at once 
 forwarded to Mr. Cecil Conway, in order 
 that, if he desired it, he might lay it before 
 any eminent lawyer he should be pleased 
 to select, and have an opinion on it at 
 the expense of the estate. " My young
 
 CKOWN-HARDEN. 197 
 
 client, Miss Granville, is anxious that no 
 means should be neglected to give you every 
 possible satisfaction," he continued, " and 
 that full justice should be done to your 
 claims, whatever they may be — though I, 
 myself, feel no doubt whatever that the 
 disposal of the property cannot possibly 
 be in the least degree changed or modified. 
 It is true that the will is not drawn up 
 by a professional man, or according to 
 technical terms, yet it is so clear that I 
 own, though most willing to serve you, 
 I can discover no loop-hole of escape from 
 the intentions expressed. Your money is 
 placed out at very good interest, there- 
 fore I should recommend you to leave it 
 where it is. Should you require any por- 
 tion of it, you have only to communicate 
 such wish to me, but I strongly advise 
 you to abstain from touching the capital." 
 
 " He need not trouble himself," said 
 Cecil, " we can do nothing." 
 
 "Why not?" said Blanche, with ani-
 
 198 CKOWK-HAEDEN. 
 
 mation, " there is no harm in trying, we 
 will do all that can be done. It will cost 
 us nothing." 
 
 " Yes," answered Cecil ; " we will, but 
 I feel convinced with no result." 
 
 '' There are such strange changes and 
 chances," said Blanche, " who would ever 
 have dreamt of all this ? If we get five 
 per cent, that makes a hundred a year 
 between us, I suppose some people do live 
 upon that." 
 
 *' I fear," Cecil rejoined, " my portion 
 will be very small when my debts are 
 paid. I was such a confounded fool when 
 Uncle Nicholas, some time ago, asked me 
 to give him the list of ray bills, I 
 neglected to do so. He said if I made 
 them out correctly he would settle them 
 at once, and recommended me not to 
 delay. It was laziness — but not altogether, 
 he appeared so ill, and seemed so much 
 out of humour that I scarcely liked. I 
 thought I should be in favour again soon.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 199 
 
 and I would do it then. Fool that I was !" 
 
 '' Very natural !" said Blanche, '* you 
 have no reason to blame yourself, I dare- 
 say I should have done just the same." 
 
 '' No," Cecil replied, " you would not; 
 you have much more moral courage than 
 I have." 
 
 " Do you think so, dear?" said Blanche, 
 who well knew it was the case ; '' if it 
 is so, never mind ; you have every 
 other kind of courage in superfluity, so 
 between us we shall manage very well. 
 Have you any idea what your bills will 
 be?" 
 
 Even now it was an effort to him to 
 face the matter boldly, but he made it. 
 
 '' Not much less than a thousand, I 
 fear," he said. 
 
 " Oh ! you cannot pay them !" exclaimed 
 Blanche, " we had better go abroad at 
 once." 
 
 '' No, dearest Blanche, I could not
 
 200 CEOWK-HAEDET?^. 
 
 possibly do tliat — I must — I could not act 
 dishonourably even for you/' 
 
 And leaning his elbow on the table, and 
 his face on his hand, for the first time 
 two or three tears fell on the polished 
 mahogany. Blanche jumped up, embraced 
 him, and kissed him affectionately. 
 
 " Of course, dearest, of course, I had 
 not thought about it ; but do not grievCy 
 dear boy, we shall come all right somehow. 
 Do not give way to despondency as poor 
 old Don Ricardo says." 
 
 " You are a brave girl, Blanche," said 
 Cecil, looking up at her affectionately, 
 " and I will not dispirit you. It is you 
 who are the man, and I the woman." 
 
 *' Not a bit," answered Blanche, " men 
 do think more of these annoyances than 
 women. Besides, when we begin really to 
 feel the inconveniences of being poor, 
 very likely I shall be as ill-tempered as a 
 hyaena. But here, Cecil, is a letter I 
 have kept as a sugar-plumb at the last —
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 201 
 
 from Martinez — and I will bet you what 
 you like he will sneak oflP." 
 
 " Impossible !" cried Cecil. 
 
 '' Only one promise, dear old fellow, 
 if he does, don't go in a rage. I so hate 
 a fuss." 
 
 " Well," said Cecil, " I promise." 
 
 Blanche read the letter first to herself, 
 and then colouring brightly, read it out 
 to Cecil. 
 
 But Mr. Joachim Martinez, according 
 to the estimation of the world, ought 
 never to come in at the end of a chapter. 
 So great a man must rather appear at the 
 head of a fresh one, and in unimportant 
 matters it is best to yield to the fiat of the 
 world.
 
 202 
 
 CHAPTER Xy. 
 
 '' "TvEAR Miss Conway, 
 
 " I beg to sympathise with you very 
 sincerely on your sad reverse of fortune. 
 I had hoped to induce my father to lay 
 aside more ambitious hopes, and to per- 
 mit me to offer my hand to a lady I 
 esteem and respect as much as I do you ; 
 but he is, I grieve to say, inexorable, 
 therefore, under the circumstances, I 
 cannot be so dishonourable as to wish 
 still to shackle you with a tie that can 
 never afford happiness either to you or 
 to me. You are free therefore — and be- 
 lieve, I entreat, that none of your friends
 
 CKOWN-HAKDEN. 203 
 
 regret your misfortunes more sincerely 
 than your humble servant, 
 
 " Joachim Maetinez." 
 
 Cecil sprang from his chair in a transport 
 of contempt and fury. 
 
 ''A mean hound!" he cried, "I will 
 lash him through every street in London !" 
 
 " You would only expose me to ridicule 
 if you took any step whatever," said 
 Blanche quietly. " What would people 
 say ? That our disappointment was too 
 extreme for us to bear — that I am forsaken 
 and broken hearted ; whereas in truth I 
 do not care a bit. I suspect I have had 
 a very lucky escape — to tell you a secret, 
 Cecil, instead of getting to like him better, 
 I despised him more and more, and began 
 to think I was making a mistake in marry- 
 ing a man I could not endure, however rich 
 he might be. I was wishing it had been 
 the father instead, who is a really kind, 
 liberal, gentlemanly old man, though he
 
 204 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 is made a cat's-paw of. I think, however, 
 I can have the extreme gratification of 
 writing a letter that will make him un- 
 comfortable. It is a happy provision of 
 nature, that those animals who have no 
 feeling whatever towards others, are 
 doubly sensitive about themselves. When 
 I have thanked dear old Don Eicardo, I 
 shall have nothing to do this morning, and 
 it will be a nice little amusement for me. 
 You can go to Mr. Smith if you Hke, and 
 talk to him about your bills. He may put 
 you in the way of getting off a little easier. 
 There is some mysterious arrangement 
 about discount you know. I dare say he 
 could contrive something in that way." 
 
 ''A capital idea, Blanche," said Cecil, 
 who knew about as much of business as 
 a child of five. '' I know Smith wall do 
 what he can for me. He always let me 
 have my cigars cost price he said. He is 
 a very good fellow." 
 
 Fortunately, for Cecil, Mr. Smith was
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 205 
 
 really what he believed him to be, though 
 his cigars were not exactly cost price ; 
 and after a little conversation, he pro- 
 mised to arrange everything for Cecil on 
 more advantageous terms than would other- 
 wise have been made. He had a pretty 
 long bill of his own, regarding which he 
 had begun to entertain some misgivings, 
 so that he was highly gratified with the 
 young man's honourable conduct, and 
 promised to do the best he could for him. 
 Blanche wrote her letter with a great 
 sense of relief, and a httle of triumph, 
 for she thought she had found the way 
 of stinging Martinez through the triple 
 coat-of-mail of his overweening conceit. 
 
 *' Dear Sir," she said, 
 '' I beg to thank you for the welcome 
 letter I received from you this morning. 
 I could not blame your conduct, for you 
 had no doubt perceived that I had ac- 
 cepted you solely from the same motives
 
 206 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 that now influence you in retiring from 
 your engagement — pecuniary considera- 
 tions. Where those are the onhj recom- 
 mendations, as you sagaciously observe, 
 there is httle chance of happiness for 
 either party, I was restrained from free- 
 ing myself by a strong but very painful 
 sense of honour, which, happily for me, 
 you do not possess. I profit by what 
 disgraces you, therefore I can easily for- 
 give your conduct. With best compli- 
 ments to Monsieur votre pere, &c. 
 
 Blanche had felt rather out of spirits 
 during the absence of Cecil, but this little 
 ebullition quite cheered her. 
 
 In the evening they talked over their 
 prospects; there were two or three persons 
 on whom Cecil said he would call, and 
 ask whether they could procure him any 
 situation either in England or abroad. 
 
 " I should like you to be an attache,'^ 
 said Blanche, in the innocence of her
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 207 
 
 heart, scarcely doubting the probability 
 of his being able to obtain such a 
 post. 
 
 Cecil knew better, for when he had been 
 in town, one of the gay jeunesse doree of 
 the capital, he had heard lamentations from 
 his poorer friends, of the difficulties in 
 finding openings for well-born young men 
 — a too well-founded complaint, unhappily 
 — of the bore of competitive examinations, 
 and the hardships that awaited aspiring 
 young gentlemen, more especially if they 
 barely knew how to write and spell ; 
 but he did not like to check Blanche's 
 hopes. 
 
 " I will walk with you to Pall Mall, and 
 go into Madame Dessain's while you see 
 
 Lord at the Office, he is 
 
 our best card, then if he fails you can try 
 Sir William Hardy." 
 
 So Blanche put on her most becoming 
 black crape bonnet, and walked slowly 
 down Pall Mall with her brother, who
 
 208 CKOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 came out from his interview witli Lord 
 rather sooner than she expected. 
 
 " He cannot do anything for me," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 " Not do anything !" cried Blanche, in 
 aetonishment. " Why, what is the use of 
 being Head of a department if he can't do 
 anything ?'' 
 
 They walked on in silence. 
 
 " Is that Villeroy ?" asked Cecil, looking 
 at a young man on the other side of the 
 street. 
 
 '' Yes, it is," said Blanche. " Oh ! do 
 speak to him, but I do not want to see 
 him, at least not just now, w4iat shall I do ?" 
 
 " I will call a cab," said Cecil, and one 
 passing at that moment drew up, and 
 Blanche sprang in, talking very fast. 
 
 *' If he likes, if he really wishes to come 
 and see us, Cecil, let him, I had rather he 
 did — mind — do you understand ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Cecil, " if he offers to call, 
 but I am half afraid when he hears you are
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 209 
 
 here he will not be inclined ; I know he 
 thinks you have trifled with him." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense !" exclaimed Blanche, 
 kissing her hand gaily to her brother as 
 she drove off. 
 
 Her elastic, unconquerable, irrepressible 
 spirits quite astonished Cecil, nothing 
 seemed to daunt her, no disappointment 
 could depress her; in this short space of 
 time her merry humour had returned, she 
 was, as ever, full of fun and mirth. Her 
 strange insensibility to sorrow and danger 
 almost frightened Cecil. As he was won- 
 dering at her, almost forgetting his friend, 
 Villeroy caught sight of him, and hasten- 
 ing up, shook hands cordially with him. 
 
 '• I was just thinking where I should 
 find you," said Villeroy, " and was going 
 to Smith's to inquire about you ; he would 
 be the man to tell me I thought." 
 
 " So he would," said Cecil. 
 
 ''But I am so glad to have met you," 
 rejoined Villeroy, ''for I have not much 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 210 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 time here ; the yacht is all ready, and the 
 men. We want to take advantage of this 
 quiet weather and favourable wind, and be 
 off for the Mediterranean in a day or two. 
 I wish you would join us, old fellow— do.'* 
 
 *' I am afraid not," said Cecil. 
 
 '' Oh ! if that's all," said Villeroy, " you 
 must. What a bore ! here is Bruton 
 coming. Where are you ? I want to talk 
 it over with you. I will come to breakfast 
 with you to-morrow." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," answered Cecil; 
 " so will my sister, she is in town with 
 me." 
 
 '' Your sister !" exclaimed Villeroy. 
 " Miss Conway !" 
 
 ''Yes; but do come, here is my address," 
 and he gave Villeroy his card. 
 
 " Come on," said Villeroy ; ''you know 
 Bruton." 
 
 " I cannot, just now," Cecil replied. " I 
 have much to tell you." 
 
 "I did hear something I was very sorry
 
 Ci^OWN-HAEDEX. 21 1 
 
 to hear/' said Villeroy ; " but if you are 
 sure it will be no inconvenience " 
 
 " We shall expect you at breakfast," said 
 Cecil, nodding to him as he turned away. 
 
 The invitation was thus given and ac- 
 cepted ; there was no time for doubt or 
 hesitation on either side. Cecil felt pleased 
 to find his friend exactly the same as ever, 
 and was glad he should have him for an 
 hour or two the next morning. He told 
 Blanche that Yilleroy was coming to break- 
 fast. 
 
 " Oh, is he ?" she said carelessly ; " we 
 must have another egg, and some of Mrs. 
 Garratt's cutlets." 
 
 Blanche came down the following morn- 
 ing beautiful enough to make a wise man 
 mad. Her elegantly rounded coiflfure of 
 plaits set ofi* her well-shaped head, while 
 one long curl of golden sheen lay soft as 
 floss silk on her deep black dress, which 
 threw out the lily-like whiteness of her 
 complexion, so tenderly touched with pale 
 
 p 2
 
 212 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 rose-colour, not the less dazzling from 
 being a shade paler than usual ; her large 
 blue eyes floated in light ; the finely turned 
 lines of her lips, her cheek, her oval chin, 
 the clear curl of the dehcate nostril were 
 correct as the sculptor would have wished 
 to chisel his marble. There is a majesty, 
 a loveliness in beauty such as hers, the 
 winning royalty of woman ; but alas ! 
 queens are not always the happiest of 
 their sex. 
 
 Villeroy came in shortly before they sat 
 down to breakfast ; she shook hands with 
 him with just as bright a smile as when 
 she believed herself mistress of Crown- 
 Harden, and chatted away as merrily. 
 
 " You have heard of my uncle's will, I 
 think?" said Cecil, about half-an-hour 
 later, when he felt that the intimacy was 
 as cordial as ever. 
 
 '' I was indeed sorry to hear it," was 
 the answer. 
 
 *' Yes, Mr. Villeroy," said Blanche, " we
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 213 
 
 are a pair of promising young paupers, as 
 proud and as merry as before — at least, I 
 am." 
 
 And she turned a softened eye on Cecil ; 
 the tender, melancholy expression was 
 gone again in a moment — almost too soon 
 Villeroy thought. 
 
 " Do you not think of returning to 
 Crown-Harden ?" asked Yilleroy. 
 
 " No," she replied, with a flash of scorn, 
 " I had rather sleep in a shed than under 
 the same roof as Rosamond Granville." 
 
 Yilleroy looked grave, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 ''Ah !" thought Blanche, " he does not 
 like it — well — T choose him to know what 
 1 think of his darling." 
 
 " I wish I had not engaged myself to go 
 with those fellows to the Mediterranean," 
 said Yilleroy, after a pause, '' though I do 
 not suppose I could be of any use. Have 
 you been to Lord ?" 
 
 '* Yes, no hopes there !" answered Cecil.
 
 214 CPvOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 '' If I were you, I would try Sir William 
 Hardy/' suggested Villeroy. '' We have 
 no influence now, my brother living abroad, 
 he is a nonentity here.'* 
 
 " I will try Sir William," said Cecil. 
 
 " If you like, I will go with you," 
 Yilleroy said; "he used to know my 
 father." 
 
 " Thank you, Yilleroy," Cecil answered. 
 
 " I shall go to my mother at Hellingsley 
 for a few days ; can I see you as I come 
 back ?" asked Yilleroy. 
 
 " Oh yes," Cecil replied, delighted. 
 
 " May I call in on Wednesday next, in 
 the evening ? would Miss Conway allow 
 me ? I shall dine early at Mrs. Holland's." 
 
 '' Oh, do !" said Blanche ; " and have a 
 primitive cup of tea with us. I look for- 
 ward to a visitor to tea and bread and 
 butter as quite a piece of wild gaiety — a 
 sort of Cambridge House reception night," 
 she said, laughing. 
 
 ''I should be very sorry to exchange
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 215 
 
 your cup of tea for that," Yilleroy said. 
 
 It was past twelve when Yilleroy jumped 
 up and took his hat, apologising for such 
 a visitation, when he and Cecil made their 
 way to Sir WiUiam Hardy's ; but that at- 
 tempt was even a worse failure than the 
 other, for Sir William, who was more 
 
 communicative than Lord had been, 
 
 assured Cecil there was not the slightest 
 chance of success for him in any Govern- 
 ment department. He was past the age 
 for the Army, and in the Civil Service 
 there was no prospect for him whatever. 
 
 " You say you could not pass a compe- 
 titive examination, and as to patronage, 
 it is almost a by-gone thing — moreover, 
 you are not even the younger son, or 
 the nephew of an earl, or a viscount. 
 I can assure you," he concluded, " you 
 would be only wasting your time in fruit- 
 less endeavours. Now, why not try the 
 City? That is the only place to make 
 money."
 
 216 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Yilleroy was obliged reluctantly to part 
 with his friend, after hearing this un- 
 favourable opinion, and Cecil, determined 
 to leave nothing undone, went and 
 called on a City acquaintance of his 
 uncle's. 
 
 The gentleman received him somewhat 
 stiffly. He had heard of young Conway's 
 disappointment with regard to the pro- 
 perty, and took it for granted that he was 
 to blame ; but Cecil's frank, gentlemanly 
 manner had its usual effect. Still the 
 merchant seemed careful not to commit 
 himself, said he would write to him if any 
 chance offered, and used other such eva- 
 sive expressions. 
 
 Cecil begged him to give a candid 
 opinion, did he think any situation could 
 be procured ? 
 
 "Well, Sir," was the reply, "you say 
 you do not understand book-keeping — 
 there are some accounts and a business 
 letter to write, and I have exactly half an
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 217 
 
 Lour at your service, will you try what 
 you can do in the time ? Then I can judge 
 how to satisfy you, since I see you desire 
 a straightforward answer." 
 
 Cecil sat down with strong, and not 
 unfounded, misgivings. When he tendered 
 his productions, the gentleman glanced 
 his eye at them and smiled. 
 
 '' Not experienced enough," he said, 
 veiling his contempt at the utterly un- 
 business like performance. "You will 
 not succeed in a merchant house, my 
 dear Sir, I should recommend you to 
 obtain some easy Government appoint- 
 ment." 
 
 '* Thank you," Cecil answered rather 
 ironically, for his heart was sore with 
 disappointment, " do you think you could 
 procure me one ?" 
 
 " I ! my dear Sir, entirely out of my 
 way — quite out of my line." 
 
 Good mornings were coldly exchanged, 
 and Cecil returned home sorrowfully.
 
 218 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 What could he turn to next ? He knew of 
 young men who wrote articles for papers, 
 but he thought he could as well, or per- 
 haps better, sit down and make a coat. 
 Yet there he was living on Blanche's small 
 means, for he did not know whether 
 Smith would have enough left from his 
 funds, after all the bills were settled, even 
 to pay his present expenses. 
 
 Moderate and careful as they were, 
 their poor little stipend of fifty pounds 
 yearly, would very soon be consumed in 
 Berkley Street, and he would rather beg 
 on the road than touch his sister's small 
 capital. Yet they must remain where they 
 were till Henry Villeroy returned ; he had 
 some faint hope that Lady Dornington 
 might invite Blanche, then he could do 
 anything, go out as a labourer — not enlist 
 as a soldier, for that would break his 
 sister's heart, as it would separate them 
 entirely — the only thing he could not do. 
 
 *' Ah !" he repeated over and over to
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 219 
 
 himself, "if Blanche had but engaged 
 herself to Yilleroy, he would have been 
 faithful and kinder than ever, and 
 Blanche would have found a mother in 
 Lady Dornington, who though resentful 
 of even the appearance of injury, was a 
 warm friend and generous to those she 
 loved. But such regrets were useless 
 now. 
 
 During the week that followed, he still 
 continued to try even the most improbable 
 and unlikely means of finding some em- 
 ployment, but all with equally bad success ; 
 and the easy, light, indifferent way in 
 which he was rejected for whatever offered 
 beofan to embitter and half madden him — 
 so unconcerned, he thought, so mere a 
 trifle to refuse me, as if it were not almost 
 despair and death to me.
 
 220 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 T)LANCHE also, though she effectually 
 •^ concealed it, did begin to feel some 
 little uneasiness. 
 
 One morning a letter was brought in to 
 her, directed by Mr. Smith. She tore it 
 open with some wild hope, she scarcely 
 knew of what, and saw on the inner cover 
 Rosamond's handwriting, without a second 
 thought she thrust it impatiently into the 
 fire. 
 
 Then she dwelt in fancy on a bright 
 idea that had been hovering about in her 
 imagination the last day or two. She put 
 on her things, and opening a drawer, took 
 out a roll of drawins^s she had done at
 
 CROWX-HARDEN. 221 
 
 Crown-Harden, which the maid had sHpped 
 in amonof her thinofs not knowingr what 
 they were. 
 
 They had been admired and praised to 
 the skies, so much so that Blanche, 
 though really not vain, did set some store 
 by them, but with a heroic spirit of self- 
 sacrifice she resolved to sell them. 
 
 " I will take them to a respectable 
 shop," she said to herself, " and put no 
 price on them myself, but leave it en- 
 tirely to the honour and generosity of the 
 shop-people ; and when I come back with 
 a handful of sovereigns, will not Cecil be 
 surprised ?" 
 
 And w^ell he might be, if she did. She 
 popped them under her large shawl, and 
 started off with a rather beating heart, 
 not from fear — but the adventure, the 
 strangeness of walking alone through the 
 streets startled her. She had taken the 
 precaution of w^earing a thick veil, and 
 after five minutes began to feel as secure
 
 222 CEOWN-HARDEIS. 
 
 under its protection as if she were in- 
 visible. 
 
 She determined to go to Rathbone 
 Place ; it was an unfashionable neighbour- 
 hood, and she had a sort of feeling that' 
 people who lived in such parts were not 
 formidable. On arriving at her destina- 
 tion, she desired to see Mr. , the 
 
 master of the estabhshment. There was 
 something in her air and voice that 
 procured her speedy attention. She took 
 out her pictures. 
 
 '' I wish to sell these," she said, in the 
 same tone as she would have used in 
 expressing a desire to look at some twenty- 
 cruinea lace shawls at a milliner's. 
 
 '' I will look at them," was the reply, 
 '' though I seldom do unless the artist is 
 a known one." 
 
 She opened them, he just turned them 
 over as a matter of form. '* I will not trou- 
 ble you, Madam, these are not saleable," 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Blanche in 
 surprise.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 223 
 
 " Very creditable for an amateur no 
 
 doubt," said Mr. out of mere civility, 
 
 as Blanche at once perceived, " but to sell 
 they are entirely valueless." 
 
 ''Perhaps," Blanche urged, "at an in- 
 ferior shop ?" 
 
 " I can assure you. Madam, they are not 
 saleable. Here are some portfolios full of 
 drawings by Richardson, Harding and 
 the best masters." 
 
 And Blanche, looking round, saw large, 
 thick volumes on stands all round the 
 place. She went out, but would not be 
 discouraged ; she tried several more print- 
 shops, and in one or two they begged her 
 not to trouble herself to open them. In one 
 small insignificant place they were again 
 turued over contemptuously. 
 
 " They are not in our style." 
 
 " Will you show me a sample of your 
 style ?" asked Blanche. 
 
 A mounted drawing was brought out of 
 a portfolio, not much bigger than the
 
 224 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 page of a book, stiff, ugly, graceless, 
 witliout a particle of taste or talent, but 
 with a sort of drawing-master look about it. 
 
 " That is the lowest priced drawing we 
 have." 
 
 " And you consider it better than these ?" 
 she asked, touching her ov»m. 
 
 " It is saleable, ma'am, these are not. 
 They are school-boy productions, very 
 pleasing to friends, no doubt, but quite 
 unsaleable.'* 
 
 Blanche put her roll under her arm 
 again, and walked home, disappointed 
 and very angry. She put them back in 
 tlie drawer, and pushed it in with a bang, 
 very glad she had not confided to Cecil 
 her proud expectations. 
 
 Being in a pet, she saw everything in 
 the darkest, gloomiest aspect for the space 
 of an hour, then the clouds cleared off; 
 she laughed at herself and at the wretches 
 of shop-keepers, and by the time Cecil 
 returned was as gay as ever.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 225 
 
 It grieved him to the soul to disturb 
 her happy mood, but he could not refrain 
 from uttering some fears for the future. 
 
 '* I tell you how it is, Cecil," said Blanche, 
 '' we shall never get on till we have not a 
 single penny left, then fortune will turn 
 sharp round, and we shall get rich with 
 a rush." 
 
 Cecil shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing would ever tempt me to in- 
 fringe on your poor little capital, child," 
 he said. 
 
 "Well then," said Blanche, ''we will 
 go and take a cottage at five pounds a year 
 in some pretty village, aad I will spin, 
 and you shall sow. I think it will be 
 dehghtful. That is what I expect we shall 
 have to do." 
 
 '' That is what I really do expect," said 
 Cecil. 
 
 "What then!" exclaimed Blanche, *' I'll 
 pay a little girl sixpence a w^eek to do 
 what I don't like to do, and we will have 
 
 VOL. 1. Q
 
 226 CROWN-HAKDEN. 
 
 potatoes, and chickens, and eggs, and 
 strawberries and cream, and drink cider; 
 don't you like cider? — we will go to 
 Devonshire on purpose for the Devonshire 
 cream, and be as gay as larks. I used 
 often to make vows to get up early in the 
 morning, and in a cottage it will come 
 natural — people in cottages always rise 
 with the sun." 
 
 " Do you really think you could endure 
 such a hfe ?" he asked. 
 
 " Endure ! I never in my life could 
 endure anything ; no — but I shall like it. 
 Besides, the wheel will turn, you'll see." 
 
 The very day after this conversation, 
 Blanche and Cecil were sitting together in 
 their httle room. It was so bitter cold 
 that Blanche would not let her brother go 
 out. There was a bleak frost, with a fog, 
 that had not even the usual yellow tinge 
 to warm its cold, dark grey hue. The 
 houses opposite frowned dim and spectral 
 on them through the crisp, icy window-
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN, 
 
 227 
 
 panes ; draughts came in from every cor- 
 ner ; all they touched felt damp and chill ; 
 a raw gust now and then sent the black 
 smoke low down, eddying over the street ; 
 the poor children who passed with pale 
 faces and red noses, tucked their arms, 
 rolled up under their pinafores, or shoved 
 down in their pockets ; the few men who 
 went by, their steps sounding loud on the 
 hard pavement, bustled along in great- 
 coats ; even Blanche looked a little dis- 
 consolate. 
 
 As they thus sat, Mrs. Garratt opened 
 the door : 
 
 '^ A lady, please, ma'am." And before 
 Blanche could answer, Rosamond was 
 ushered into the room. She came up 
 gently towards her cousin. 
 
 '* I am come, dear Blanche, to entreat 
 you to come home to Crown-Harden." 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed Blanche, impetu- 
 ously, drawing back from her in haughty 
 displeasure ; " never as long as I live." 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 CHOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 " I am innocent of all you despise me 
 for, I can prove it to you. Will you not 
 be just ?" 
 
 " No," Blanche answered ; " if you 
 choose to intrude here, it is to my brother 
 Cecil your visit must be paid.'' 
 
 And brushing rudely past her, Blanche 
 left the room. 
 
 " Cecil !" exclaimed Rosamond appeal- 
 ingly ; " are you so inexorable ? I used to 
 think I was not happy formerly, but how 
 gladly would I exchange what I am for 
 what I was !" 
 
 '^ You have fulfilled your promise, Rosa- 
 mond," answered Cecil. '' You told us we 
 should find you, not a worm, but a snake. 
 
 " But beware ! the wretched thing, 
 Has perchance a poisoned sting !" 
 
 " Oh !" said Rosamond, " forgive those 
 unhappy words of evil augury. Cecil, 
 dear Cecil, my cousin, my friend, be kind, 
 be true to your own gentle nature ! For-
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEX. 229 
 
 give my past faults; be my friend !" and 
 turning her large eloquent eyes upon 
 his, she took his hand in both hers. A 
 strange sensation came over him ; he 
 withdrew it, but gently. 
 
 "If it had been I alone — if it were not 
 for Blanche . . . ." and he turned his head 
 away. He felt all his determination melt- 
 ing away under those eyes of hers. 
 
 '' Promise to come to me at Crown- 
 Harden," she said. " If even you come 
 alone, and for only a few days, promise. 
 I cannot live as it is now ; I shall die. 
 Promise me, Cecil ; you are not hard- 
 hearted — you never were. It would be 
 too cruel to refuse me. Oh, promise ! 
 poor wretched girl that I am !" and she 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Pray do not," said Cecil, much 
 troubled ; " pray, Rosamond, do not. I 
 will come; I promise it. Pray cease." 
 
 Rosamond covered her face with both 
 her hands.
 
 230 CROWX-HARDEN. 
 
 " You have promised, Cecil. You will 
 keep your word, I kuow, however hateful 
 and disagreeable it may be to you. I will 
 not torment you longer. Thank you, dear 
 Cecil." And she took his hand again, and 
 pressed it to her heart. Tt was throbbing 
 so violently that it gave him pain to feel 
 it. It was but a moment, and she was 
 gone. 
 
 He ran down the stairs after her, a 
 carriage was at the door, she was already 
 in it ; she kissed her hand to him, and 
 was gone. 
 
 Rosamond, as she said with perfect 
 truth, suffered at this time more unhappi- 
 ness than she had ever experienced in her 
 short, sad life, with her wicked young 
 brother, her dead uncle, her cousins, not 
 only estranged, but at bitter enmity with 
 her. She had thought that she disliked 
 them, Blanche more especially ; but now 
 she missed the gay voice, the merry 
 laugh, the happy, beautiful face, the light
 
 CROWN-HARDEX. 231 
 
 graceful form running, dancing, flitting 
 about like a sun-beam. 
 
 Any little kind word Blanche had ever 
 spoken, returned upon Rosamond, and 
 haunted her like a pang of guilt ; she was 
 lonely, unloved ; at night she wept, in the 
 day she wandered restless, or spent hours 
 in silent, forlorn musing up in her tower- 
 room, gazing with fixed, mournful eyes 
 on the bare woods and dark wintry hills. 
 
 She had inflicted a deep and irretriev- 
 able injury in return for childish affronts, 
 whether it were intentionally or otherwise, 
 the evil was done. Alas ! those cold, 
 dead fingers, so helpless now, had traced 
 words that no tears of hers could efface. 
 Those few lines had settled a life-long woe 
 on those who had once been so dear. 
 That stiff, yellow parchment, with its 
 crabbed characters, inscribed with a pen 
 of steel, seemed to her some horrible 
 mystic wizard spell that burnt up her 
 heart's blood, and filled her veins with
 
 232 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 poisoD ; no evil eye could have cast a more 
 fatal enchantment over her young life. 
 All other thoughts and wishes withered 
 away, one eternal, remorseful, ever-re- 
 curring torture sapped her very life. 
 
 Her feelinofs mi2:ht have been tinctured 
 with a morbid exaggeration, yet hers was 
 a dreadful situation for a young, imagi- 
 native, tender girl, inclined to melancholy 
 and unused to joy and kindness. 
 
 She had usurped the rights of others — 
 rights that she valued not ; she had driven 
 them from affluence and home to misery 
 and want. It seemed like an accursed 
 vengeance for trivial wrongs — and ever in 
 the dark back-ground that fearful death- 
 bed added its terrors. 
 
 Nicholas Conway dying ! those eager, 
 wretched eyes, those ever-repeated syl- 
 lables — '^ Blanche — Cecil" — that strusfde 
 for utterance — that vain remorse. Yes, it 
 must have been remorse. How his dying 
 eyes longed for those beloved ones, the
 
 CROWN-HAKDEN. 233 
 
 darlings of his aged heart — those beloved 
 ones he had wronged — wronged for her — 
 hopeless, worthless as she was ! But all 
 sorrow and remorse were vain. It was too 
 late. Death had set upon her woes the 
 fearful seal of the irrevocable. No, she 
 must bear her curse as she might. 
 
 Then came the longing, the necessity to 
 see them once more — to melt them, to 
 prevail, to be reconciled to those the only 
 friends she had ever known. She remem- 
 bered her own passionate resentments, 
 her desire for revenge — evil, though sup- 
 pressed, until she came almost to believe 
 that it was she who had been the ag- 
 gressor. 
 
 At night, she dreamt perpetually of her 
 dying uncle, and of every possible tragic 
 event befalling Blanche and Cecil that 
 she was unable to avert, while ever present, 
 the dim ghost of Nicholas Conway stood 
 wringing his hands and reproaching her. 
 
 The only person who understood her
 
 234 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 feelings was Richard Conway; he wished 
 to leave Crown-Harden on urgent busi- 
 ness of his own, that appeared to weigh 
 upon his mind ; but he dreaded to forsake 
 Eosamond until her nerves were more 
 steady, and she became more composed. 
 
 He was no less scrupulous and fearful 
 of giving offence than formerly ; but he 
 was also more absent, and made more 
 mistakes than ever — still he was the only 
 person Rosamond could endure to have 
 with her, and he soon perceived that her 
 only pleasure was to hear him converse 
 about Blanche and Cecil. 
 
 Her brother Stephen, now free from all 
 restraint, was so insolent, domineering, 
 and ill-tempered that all dreaded seeing 
 him ; yet she knew that when he was away 
 from home, in London, he was absorbed in 
 vulger dissipation, of which it was his 
 pride to boast. The only other subject 
 of his conversation was violent abuse of
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 235 
 
 Cecil and Blanche, wlio, he said, were not 
 half punished. 
 
 "If ever that proud pair come across 
 me, let them beware," he said. *' That 
 fine gentleman will get into more trouble 
 yet, that I know. I have seen him in a 
 fury, I have seen his blue eyes blaze 
 crimson with rage. And he's such a fool, 
 he can't bide his time — a word and a blow 
 with him — he had better mind, I am on 
 the watch, and will catch him yet ; he has 
 not got over the worst of it by long odds, 
 I can tell him ; and that she-tiger shall be 
 brought low, too — with her devil-may-care 
 laugh." 
 
 Rosamond scarcely knew how to bear 
 these vindictive speeches; for his eyes, 
 sparkling with malice, and his sneering 
 smile showed how real they were. She 
 saw in him, or thought she saw, a tenfold 
 exaggeration of her own faults and charac- 
 ter, a distorted image of herself, and the 
 horrible picture made her shudder.
 
 236 CROWN-HAKDEN. 
 
 Her secluded, lonely life nourished these 
 morbid fancies; a little society, a little 
 change, a few kind and cheerful friends, 
 would have been invaluable to her, but 
 she had them not. Her mind would still 
 have borne the burden of her great grief, 
 she would still have been the cause of 
 suffering to her early companions, she 
 would have usurped their rights and des- 
 troyed their hopes, but imagination would 
 not have steeped every sorrow in her 
 darkest dye. 
 
 Perhaps too there was another feeling 
 aching, unacknowledged within her heart ; 
 but from that she turned hurriedly away. 
 " No," she said, " I seem marked out 
 for hatred, not for love.''
 
 237 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 T)UT it is time to return to tlie Con- 
 "^ ways. As soon as the carriage 
 drove off with Rosamond, Blanche came 
 down again. 
 
 " She has given you a benefit !" she 
 exclaimed, '* I hope you were not weak." 
 
 " Really, Blanche, I begin to fancy we 
 may have wronged her." 
 
 " Cecil ! can you be so very infirm of 
 purpose !" exclaimed Blanche reproach- 
 fully. " Perhaps the young lady in com- 
 passion to you has held out her queenly 
 hand, and oflfered it to you with the old 
 house."
 
 238 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " You are wrong, Blanche, you forget 
 that Uncle Nicholas has taken care to 
 guard her from me well. Besides, that 
 would be her very last thought. But I 
 tell you this, were she free to act as she 
 might — if she loved — yes, and if I loved 
 her as much as I ever disliked her, I 
 would sooner cut off my right arm than 
 accept her, or it." 
 
 " I believe you, Cecil, for you may be 
 a little too soft, but you are a man of 
 honour. Did she make any other offer or 
 demand ?" 
 
 " She has made me promise some time 
 or other to pay her a short visit at Crown- 
 Harden," Cecil replied, 
 
 Blanche rose from her chair and drew 
 back. 
 
 '' Are you mad ? What do you mean ? 
 How was it possible she could force you 
 to such humiliation ?" 
 
 ''Blanche, dear," said Cecil, ''you do 
 not know how a man feels — how very
 
 OEOWN-HARDEN. 239 
 
 uncomfortable, difficult, impossible it is 
 when a woman asks you witli tears to. . ." 
 
 " I am ashamed of you," interrupted 
 Blanche indignantly. 
 
 '' Well, never mind," said Cecil, '^ it 
 can't be helped ; by the bye, I met 
 Yilleroy just now, he wanted to call, and, 
 as we are so often out, I asked him to 
 come in the evening ; for my sake be 
 good-natured, Blanche, dear." 
 
 Yilleroy had undertaken a more difficult 
 task. He endeavoured to persuade his 
 mother to invite Blanche to stay with her, 
 and hazarded a proposition that the young 
 lady might accompany Lady Dornington 
 in a proposed trip in his yacht, the Ariel 
 (a pretty little craft, which, except one or 
 two persons, was the dearest object in 
 the world to him). 
 
 '•' It would be such kindness, dearest 
 mother, and just at this time so doubly 
 welcome ; besides, it would make our ex- 
 pedition more agreeable ; she is lively, and
 
 240 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 then her brother could go with us in the 
 ArieV 
 
 '' Blanche Conway ! who preferred 
 Joachim Martinez to you ! Thank you — 
 1 think not." 
 
 " They say the engagement is broken 
 off," said Villeroy. 
 
 " He has jilted her, you mean, to use a 
 vulgar but expressive word. So now the 
 young lady is rejected by the gentleman 
 with the money, she is disposed to smile 
 again on you," said Lady Dornington, 
 scornfully. 
 
 '' You are quite mistaken," said Yilleroy, 
 " she smiles on everyone who is not un- 
 deserving, out of the cheerful serenity of 
 her temper." 
 
 " She has a good constitution, good 
 animal spirits, shuns thought and sorrow, 
 and is not over-burdened with feeling. 
 She will never break her heart for lover, 
 husband, or child," Lady Dornington re- 
 marked severely.
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 241 
 
 " I never saw a girl behave so nobly in 
 misfortune," rejoined Villeroy, " she is in 
 misfortune remember." 
 
 '*Yes," said Lady Dornington, drily, 
 " she is no longer an heiress. I always 
 much preferred that sweet young girl, 
 Eosamond Granville. So unassuming, so 
 lady-like — quite a Granville." 
 
 *' She is all you say, and has grown very 
 pretty," he replied. 
 
 *' More than pretty — so interesting, she 
 has what I call a touching face. I should 
 like to have her with me," said Lady 
 Dornington. 
 
 " But to Blanche Conway it would be 
 such a kindness. Do, dear mother. I beg, 
 you as a favour." 
 
 " I will not," rephed Lady Dornington. 
 '' How many men did you say you had on 
 board the Ariel f ' 
 
 Yilleroy saw that further entreaty would 
 be useless, for he knew his mother well. 
 
 It was scarcely to be expected that Lady 
 
 VOL I. R
 
 242 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 Dornington would feel much interested in 
 Blanche Conway. Even when she was an 
 heiress, she considered her unworthy of 
 her son's affections, if it really was true 
 that he had fixed them on her ; she 
 resented her mercenary preference for 
 Joachim Martinez, and now that she was 
 in addition to all besides a nobody and 
 penniless, it was not to be thought of with 
 patience — vain, selfish, and unfeeling as she 
 deemed her to be. She was also disgusted 
 with her behaviour to Rosamond Granville, 
 wbo she believed to be her superior in 
 every respect, as well as in birth. 
 
 Now and then a hope had glanced 
 across her, that in her son, though 
 dazzled by the beauty of Blanche, she had 
 detected the germ of a more deep and 
 tender feeling towards Eosamond, who 
 from a plain child had grown a graceful 
 and interesting girl, and whose attractions 
 increased each time she saw her. " Ah !" 
 she thought, '' if young men could but see
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 243 
 
 with their mother's eyes, there would not 
 be so many unhappy marriages." 
 
 Villeroy arrived in Berkley Street 
 punctual to the moment. He fancied 
 there was something cosy in the little, tidy 
 room, the bright fire, the small round 
 table with its fresh white damask and 
 neat white china, though, except a glass 
 jar of shilling marmalade, there was nothing 
 but a new loaf and butter added to the 
 tea. Cecil had proposed more, but Blanche 
 had cut him short with, 
 
 " Pooh ! we can't afford it, he does not 
 come here for good things to eat, he can 
 get these every day." 
 
 Were the Prince of Wales coming, and 
 she had only milk and a potatoe, she would 
 have offered them gracefully and cheerfully, 
 without any mauvaise lionte ; she was quite 
 free from all the weak alarms feeble tempers 
 are subject to, on the score of what will 
 be said and what will be thought, and the 
 source of this happy insouciance was, not 
 
 E 2
 
 244 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 that she was humble, rather that she was 
 proud and self-reHant. 
 
 Though in appearance there was a strong 
 resemblance between brother and sister, 
 they were in many respects very unlike. 
 
 Blanche had quicker perceptions, more 
 self-dependence, more cleverness, more 
 determination of character ; but Cecil pos- 
 sessed far more of the higher qualities of 
 the heart, warm affections, sensitive feel- 
 ings, and generosity of soul, though some- 
 what warped by incessant prosperity, in- 
 dolence, want of thought and self-indul- 
 gence. 
 
 The consequence of this difference was 
 that, except where Cecil's feelings prompted 
 him to act, Blanche took the direction 
 and the lead ; he not only consulted, but 
 yielded to her; nor would she at all have 
 liked it to be otherwise. 
 
 The hours passed so pleasantly that 
 evening, that Yilleroy thought his watch 
 must be wrong when it pointed at twelve ;
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 245 
 
 he expressed his regret at bis inadvertancej 
 adding : 
 
 ''I Lad nearly forgotten one thing I 
 meant to have asked you, Cecil. My uncle, 
 Sir Philip Holland, begged me to find out 
 whether Eoberts, who used to be your 
 gamekeeper, had got a place. My mother 
 used to like him. Sir Philip is a very sus- 
 picious old man, and fancies all the people 
 in his neighbourhood are leagued together 
 against him, so he wishes to find one from 
 quite a difierent part of the country, and 
 entrusted me with the commission ; but I 
 really have no time." 
 
 '' I believe," said Cecil, '' Roberts is en- 
 gaged, but I will find out. By the bye, I 
 think I do know of one ; could you give 
 me a sort of carte blanche recommenda- 
 tion in case ?" 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Yilleroy, " if you 
 really are so kind. It is late now ; I had 
 better send it in the morning."
 
 246 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Oh ! there is no hurry," said Cecil ; 
 " any time before you start." 
 
 '' I will remember it," said Yilleroy ; " 1 
 will write a letter that will do for anyone 
 you please. I will tell my uncle he may 
 trust implicitly in the person. The fellow 
 had better take it with him, you know." 
 
 '' I understand," said Cecil. 
 
 *' Good-night, Miss Conway," Yilleroy 
 said, taking leave ; " I hope you will not 
 think me very rococo for thanking you for 
 the pleasantest evening I have had since I 
 saw you last. I suppose it is too late for 
 you to walk a little way with ipe, Cecil ?" 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 And the two young men went out to- 
 gether ; but Blanche, instead of going to 
 bed, sat in deep thought over the fire. 
 
 Villeroy and Cecil walked side by side 
 down the street. 
 
 '' By the bye," said Yilleroy, suddenly 
 taking the cigar he had just lighted and 
 throwing it away, " it just strikes me ;
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 247 
 
 perhaps you are a little sliort of the ready 
 just now, Cecil." 
 
 Shocking to relate, this was a deliberate 
 untruth and mis-statement. It had not 
 just struck him ; he had thought of it long 
 and often, and had wondered in what skil- 
 ful way he could manage to introduce it ; 
 whereas here he blurted it out without 
 any skill or art whatever. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Cecil, " we do very 
 well." 
 
 "Never mind; it may be useful;" and 
 so saying he pulled out a little crumpled 
 mess of notes, which he tried to push into 
 Cecil's breast-pocket. 
 
 " No, no ; thank you much," said Cecil. 
 
 " I shall feel really offended if you won't. 
 Why, as an old friend, I've a right. You 
 can give me them back when you've more 
 tin than you want, you know ; though, to 
 tell the truth, I'd much rather you didn't. 
 Don't be savage ; take them without any 
 bother."
 
 248 CKOWK-HARDEX. 
 
 Cecil saw that to refuse would really 
 offend him. 
 
 '' Thank you, dear Yilleroy," he said, 
 as he stuflPed the notes into his porte- 
 monnaie. 
 
 '^ I had rather you did not mention it to 
 your sister — I am afraid she would think I 
 was taking a great liberty — and you don't 
 know, Cecil, how sorry I should be to 
 offend her. I shall get back as soon as I 
 can. If you move your quarters, leave 
 word at Smith's where you are to be 
 found." 
 
 " I will," said Cecil. 
 
 " Promise it," said Yilleroy. " T feel a 
 sort of doubt, or fear, or presentiment, 
 or whatever it may be, that I may lose 
 sight of you or something happen. Mind, 
 Cecil, always remember that we are real 
 friends." 
 
 "Indeed I shall," returned Cecil, "It 
 would not be I who would be likely to 
 forget it."
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 249 
 
 **Far less likely that it should be I," 
 said Yilleroy, " I have two friends to think 
 of, far more worthy of remembrance than 
 a careless, idle fellow like myself." 
 
 "I cannot tell you to your face what 
 I think of you, Villeroy," said Cecil. 
 
 " I won't take you farther, your sister 
 may be sitting up," said Yilleroy, and the 
 two young men shook hands warmly as 
 they parted. 
 
 On re-entering the house Cecil, by the 
 light of the hall-lamp, looked at the notes 
 in his porte-monnaie, and was a little 
 staggered to find what a large sum it 
 was. 
 
 Blanche was, as Villeroy supposed, still 
 sitting up. 
 
 " Well," she said, " have you taken care 
 of your friend ? he really can be tolerably 
 agreeable when he chooses. I dare say he 
 believes he has been performing quite an 
 act of Christian charity by causing us to 
 pass a pleasant evening."
 
 250 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " No, Blanche," said Cecil, " you do not 
 really think so, you know him better." 
 
 " Well, good night," she said gaily, and 
 kissing her brother ran off upstairs.
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTEH XYIII. 
 
 "OLANCHE, ever too sanguine in her 
 ■^ hopes, had expected to pay the rent of 
 their rooms from the sale of her drawings. 
 She now again looked, and with some dis- 
 trust, on the rapidly diminishing contents 
 of her purse, and at once resolved to look 
 out for cheaper lodgings ; remembering an 
 advertisement she had noticed in the news- 
 paper, started off early the next morning 
 as soon as her brother had left her on his 
 own hopeless and disheartening search, 
 and made her way bravely towards one of 
 the narrow outlets that lead out of the 
 Strand down to the river. 
 
 On recognising the name, she turned
 
 252 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 down its pavement; the sudden cessation 
 of the bustle and noise, contrasting with 
 the dead stillness of the dismal little street, 
 was almost startling. At the lower end 
 of it lay the Thames, at first its dreary- 
 aspect intimidated her ; but smiling at her 
 own weakness, she paced boldly down the 
 whole length of the street, determined to 
 have a steady look at it, and thus dispel 
 her fanciful terror, just as in her nursery 
 days she had resolutely walked down a 
 dark passage, or looked behind a white 
 curtain in the moonlight, because she felt 
 frightened. But in this case the cure was 
 a doubtful one — though little later than 
 mid-day, a dusky twilight seemed already 
 hanging over the place ; it was low tide, 
 and there lay the broad sluggish river, a 
 ghastly white shimmer on its surface, 
 thrown out by the black slime of its banks, 
 while a heavy wreath of grey fog brooded 
 above it. Blanche fancied it looked like 
 some monstrous dragon in slumber, ex-
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 253 
 
 haliDg its poisonous breath in the gloomy 
 air; it only brought before her fancy 
 images of drowned corpses, of despairing 
 suicides, and with a sigh she turned away 
 to seek out the rather complicated numbers 
 on the doors. At the very shabbiest she 
 found the one she sought; the coarse- 
 grained oak painting was rubbed off in 
 patches, and the black bell-handle and 
 knocker were not tempting to touch — those 
 little kid gloves of hers would never be fit 
 to wear again. 
 
 A dirty, scared girl opened the door, 
 then ran off as if possessed by a demon, 
 and was soon replaced by the lady of the 
 house, attired in a faded worsted-knitted 
 polka and black lace cap, with dingy, 
 draggled red flowers, a most unprepossess- 
 ing face, of doubtful cleanliness, and hands 
 unmistakeably the reverse. 
 
 " I want a cheap apartment," said 
 Blanche, quite inexperienced in the ways 
 of lodging-house keepers.
 
 254 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 " Oh, cheap ! do you ?" retorted the 
 woman, scornfully glancing at the silk 
 dress and simple, but pretty, bonnet. With- 
 out another word, she marched upstairs, 
 Blanche following. She paused at a narrow 
 landing. 
 
 '' These are my best," she said, jerking 
 her head towards two ugly little square 
 rooms. 
 
 " Let me see your best, then," Blanche 
 replied. 
 
 The severity of 'the lady relaxed a little 
 as she ushered her in. After some little 
 delay, Blanche found that for two close, 
 dingy bed-rooms, and a little den below, 
 called the landlady's parlour, where, more- 
 over, she was only to be admitted on 
 sufferance, she would have to pay a pretty 
 high price. She glanced round the little 
 mean parlour — looking on a back-yard — 
 with its horse-hair chairs and its frightful 
 chimney-piece ornaments — a glaringly- 
 painted vase full of coarse flowers, libels
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 255 
 
 on the roses and dahlias they were meant 
 to represent ; and as she paused she heard 
 the distant roar of the traffic in the Strand, 
 that sounded to her like one unending 
 groan. 
 
 " Well," she thought, " how differently 
 human beings are constituted. Some 
 people, I suppose, are to be found who 
 could be happy here. But I would rather 
 live under a gipsy's tent." 
 
 *' It's a beautiful comfortable room, 
 ma'am," said the owner; " and you should 
 be welcome to come here whenever 1 didn't 
 have company." 
 
 " Company !" Blanche mentally ex- 
 claimed, and almost burst out laughing. 
 
 " Thank you," she answered. " I am 
 afraid it would not suit me." 
 
 " Oh, as you please," said the woman, 
 who had already felt offended by the grace 
 and beauty of Blanche, and who had pretty 
 well read her thoughts, the only accom- 
 plishment she had acquired, but one she
 
 256 CROWN-HAKDEN. 
 
 had studied from earliest youtli. She felt 
 that her apartments were despised, and in 
 return she both despised and hated the 
 intruder. 
 
 She allowed Blanche to find her way out 
 as she might, without condescending to 
 bestow another word on her. 
 
 The young girl hurried from the melan- 
 choly neighbourhood, thinking as she passed 
 the grim houses of the horrible tragedy in 
 Northumberland Street — the fearful con- 
 flict, the wounded man dying in his impo- 
 tent rage and hatred — his enemy, after an 
 almost miraculous escape, languishing for 
 months between life and death — the fright- 
 ful struggle going on undisturbed and un- 
 noticed in the dreary solitudes of these 
 crowded houses. 
 
 " Oh," she thought, " give me the soli- 
 tude of the woods and forests, not of these 
 black bricks and mortar; and I fancied 
 that I knew London." 
 
 It was very new for Blanche to feel
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 257 
 
 depressed, and she was thankful when, 
 escaping from the cheerless bustle of the 
 Strand, she found herself in the more 
 familiar parts of the West end. 
 
 She smiled even more graciously than 
 usual on her respectable landlady, who, 
 observing that she was tired, kindly 
 brought her a plate of sandwiches from 
 her own store, and a glass of bright amber 
 ginger wine, which Blanche accepted with 
 gratitude. 
 
 " I will not look out for cheap lodgings 
 again," she said to herself, ''it makes the 
 ugly face of poverty look as grim and 
 repulsive as that odious landlady's in her 
 dirty finery." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 258 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 QOON after Blanche's unsuccessful 
 searcli for cheap lodgings, a new 
 hope began to re-animate Cecil's drooping 
 spirits. In ransacking his memory for all 
 possible, or even improbable, chances, he 
 had recollected a Mr. Matthews, to whom 
 his uncle had formerly shown kindness, 
 and who was engaged in some business, he 
 knew not what. 
 
 The first difficulty was to find him out ; 
 there were innumerable Mr. Matthews 
 engaged in various occupations in London, 
 and it required no small expenditure of 
 perseverance to discover the Mr. Matthews 
 in question ; but a good, honest determi-
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 259 
 
 nation generally succeeds at last, so did 
 Cecil's. 
 
 Without loss of time he resolved to visit 
 him, and found him at his office in Fetter 
 Lane, not an attractive situation certainly 
 — but that was nothing. 
 
 Cecil found a little, shrunken, pale man, 
 in gaiters and spectacles, with a wretched 
 kind of resemblance to something about 
 his late uncle on an inferior scale. Mr. 
 Matthews listened to all Cecil had to say 
 in attentive silence, then asked the usual 
 and detested questions, did he understand 
 book-keeping, accounts, &c., could he write 
 a decent letter of business ? 
 
 Cecil answered with perfect truthfulness 
 on every point, and there was an ominous 
 pause. 
 
 '' Well, Sir," said Mr. Matthews, " though 
 pretty prosperous now, I was once in need 
 of assistance and your uncle kindly afforded 
 it to me. You must excuse my stating 
 that I must, in the first instance, make 
 
 s 2
 
 260 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 necessary inquiries as to character, and so 
 forth. It is clear to me that you do not 
 at present possess any knowledge whatever 
 that is requisite for business — still, under 
 the circumstances, I will pass over your 
 disqualifications, trusting that you will 
 endeavour to compensate for them by re- 
 doubled industry, perfect integrity, great 
 steadiness and trustworthiness. AVill you do 
 me the favour to call here again in a week ?" 
 
 This was so much more encouraging 
 than anything he had met with lately, that 
 Cecil, on his return to Berkley Street, 
 related all that had passed to Blanche quite 
 elated by the hopes of future independence. 
 
 "And where is the place?" asked 
 Blanche, with vivacity. 
 
 "Fetter Lane," Cecil replied. 
 
 " Fetter Lane ! " she exclaimed. " Dear 
 me ! that sounds dreadful — Fetter Lane ! " 
 
 Cecil laughed. 
 
 " What matter, dear ? you will remain 
 here, and I shall have time to shake off the
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 261 
 
 Fetter Lane atmosphere as I walk home to 
 
 you." 
 
 They chatted hopefully; Blanche in- 
 formed Cecil that the fortunes of the 
 Con ways were always made by mercantile 
 pursuits, and that as he was so young, he 
 would have plenty of time to get dreadfully 
 rich soon enough to be able to enjoy his 
 wealth while yet a young man. " And 
 perhaps I shall marry some great, fat, rich 
 alderman and feast on turtle soup." So 
 building castles in the air, and laughing at 
 the grotesque forms of their architecture, 
 they went to bed, Blanche dreaming of 
 heaps and heaps of gold pouring for ever 
 out of very dirty sacks. 
 
 How impatient both became for the ar- 
 rival of the appointed day at the end of the 
 long, eternally long week. At last it really 
 did come, and punctual to the moment 
 named, Cecil was announced, and made 
 his bow to Mr. Matthews, throwing a 
 scrutinizing glance at his countenance ;
 
 262 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 but the gentleman was gifted with one of 
 those faces that never express anything. 
 
 "Take a seat, take a seat, Sir," was 
 his salutation. 
 
 Cecil complied. 
 
 " I hope," he said, with his winning 
 smile, '^ that I shall have a favourable 
 answer to take back to my sister." 
 
 " We will not forestall conclusions. Sir, 
 perhaps you will have the patience to hear 
 a rather lengthened statement," said Mr. 
 Matthews. 
 
 '' My time is quite at your disposal." 
 answered Cecil. 
 
 " I should judge that it was not very 
 valuable to you," replied Mr. Matthews 
 rather tartly. '' Will you allow me to men- 
 tiou that as I am very particular as to the 
 character of my clerks, and indeed of 
 everyone I employ. My partner, Mr. 
 Josephs, was going in the direction of 
 your county, therefore I requested him to 
 stop at Deerham, and make every possible
 
 CEOWN-HARDEN. 263 
 
 inquiry respecting you. He happened to 
 have some slight acquaintance with Mr. 
 Henshawe, your late uncle's man of busi- 
 ness, therefore, as the most proper person 
 of whom to make the desired inquiries, 
 he called on him. The elder Mr. Hen- 
 shawe was ill, but he saw his son and 
 partner." 
 
 " Orlando Henshawe is not his partner," 
 interrupted Cecil. 
 
 Mr. Matthews gave a magisterial wave 
 of the hand. 
 
 "Allow me to proceed. The informa- 
 tion obtained was as unsatisfactory as 
 possible. To corroborate these statements, 
 Mr. Henshawe junior produced a letter 
 of your late uncle's to Mr. Henshawe 
 senior, in which he accuses you not merely 
 of gross neglect and ingratitude, but 
 complains bitterly of your reckless and 
 unprincipled extravagance. With very 
 forbearing moderation Mr. Orlando Hen- 
 shawe still warned him not to be too far
 
 264 CROWN- HAEDEN. 
 
 influenced by your very plausible manners. 
 In the course of the afternoon Mr. 
 Josephs, after a slight repast, met Mr. 
 Henshawe junior in the street, accom- 
 panied by Mr. Stephen Granville, the latter 
 accompanied my partner to the station. 
 He appeared to be, Mr. Josephs declared, 
 a thoughtful, sensible young man, but his 
 account was even more unfavourable than 
 Mr. Henshawe' s. He said that you 
 were shunned by every respectable family 
 in the neighbourhood, that Sir Charles 
 Townsend, your uncle's executor, had 
 closed his doors against you, that you 
 were head over ears in debt, and were 
 now subsisting solely on your sister's poor 
 pittance." 
 
 Cecil during this recital had flushed, 
 and turned pale. 
 
 " I have paid my debts," he said. 
 
 " It is to be hoped you are not — not mis- 
 led in that assertion," said Mr. Matthews ;
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 265 
 
 " but you really are, no doubt, supported 
 by your sister." 
 
 " It is on tbat very account that I 
 
 wish" began Cecil, but his words 
 
 choked in his throat. 
 
 " It certainly is hard on her," rejoined 
 Mr. Matthews, " to have to maintain a 
 vigorous young man like you, but as 
 far as I see at present there is no other 
 prospect for her," said Mr. Matthews, in a 
 tone that was intended to close the con- 
 ference. It is a pity that age sometimes 
 thinks more of the follies than of the feel- 
 ings of youth. He thought what he said 
 was justice — he thought not of mercy. 
 
 Cecil rose, the next moment he was 
 hurrying along the street, regardless of 
 the staring amazement of the passers-by. 
 As he rushed past them, his only aim was 
 to get out of sight and sound of every 
 living being, and without knowing how he 
 got there, he found himself in the Regent's 
 Park. At that hour — late on a winter's
 
 266 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 afternoon — it was deserted enough, but 
 not sufficiently so for Cecil ; mechanically, 
 he hastened into the most secluded part, 
 where no single person was near, and 
 threw himself down on the cold, moist 
 ground. The weather was just changing 
 from wet to frost, the faded, yellow grass 
 was crisp, the air had that raw, sharp chill 
 in it that comes before sleet, a high north- 
 west wind had arisen and swept howling 
 wildly through the solitudes of the sky ; 
 but Cecil felt and knew it not, with his 
 elbows supported on the turf, he pressed 
 his throbbing head with both hands — and 
 there he remained until the dreary twihght 
 had faded into night. Suddenly looking 
 round, surprised at the darkness, he re- 
 membered Blanche, who would be eagerly 
 awaiting him ; shivering, and feeling weak 
 and shaky, he, with some difficulty, made 
 his way to Berkley Street, and at last 
 reached it. 
 
 From his remaining out so long, Blanche
 
 CROW^-HAEDEN. 
 
 267 
 
 never doubted that he had not only ob- 
 tained the situation, but had been in- 
 stalled in it that very afternoon, and was 
 probably engaged with Mr. Matthews 
 setthng affairs, though she did rather 
 wonder that he kept him so very late. In 
 honour of the event, she had lit an extra 
 pair of candles on the chimney-piece, and 
 had added a cold collation to their usual 
 tea ; for, as far as she knew, he had had 
 nothing since breakfast, and was sitting 
 on the sofa, impatient, but cheerful, listen- 
 ing for the sound of his steps. She heard 
 them on the stairs, and springing forward, 
 met him with an embrace at the door. 
 
 *'Well, dear Cecil!" 
 
 She entered with her arm rouud his 
 waist, but one glance at him not only dis- 
 pelled her hopes, but alarmed her dread- 
 fully. 
 
 " Cecil, you are ill !" she cried. 
 
 " Only tired," he answered languidly, 
 " and rather disappointed."
 
 268 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 And he sank down on the sofa. 
 
 " Come to the fire, dear Cecil," ex- 
 claimed Blanche, "you are colder than 
 ice.'' 
 
 Shaking, as if with ague, and half 
 doubled up, he reached the arm-chair and 
 sat down. 
 
 "Will you have tea, or some hot wine 
 and water ?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 " T shall be very glad of a cup of tea," 
 he answered, and drank it, but could not 
 touch anything else, though he tried to do 
 so to satisfy Blanche. 
 
 She got him to bed, he insisting that a 
 good night would set him all right again. 
 But he could not sleep ; every sort of hor- 
 rible dread and suggestion rushed whirling 
 through his brain ; thoughts came surging 
 up against his will without his having the 
 slightest control over them ; and when 
 Blanche entered his room early in the 
 morning, he was burning with fever. 
 
 Faint with terror, Blanche ran down to
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 269 
 
 Mrs. Garratt, who returned with her to 
 Cecil's room. 
 
 After looking at him for a minute or 
 two, she said : '' We must send for the 
 doctor." 
 
 " Of course," said Blanche, " but who ?" 
 
 Mrs. Garratt recommended a very nice 
 and clever gentleman, as she described him, 
 who had long attended a lodger of hers, 
 and he was sent for at once. 
 
 For three nights Blanche never left 
 Cecil's bedside. When, at intervals, he was 
 a little better, he supplicated her to go 
 and rest ; but she scorned the idea. 
 
 " Rest ! dear Cecil, my only rest is to 
 be with you." 
 
 Sometimes he was in a kind of torpor ; 
 sometimes partly delirious — often talking 
 of Crown-Harden, supposing himself to be 
 there ; and, worst of all, to wring the heart 
 of Blanche, sometimes, much as he sought 
 to hide it, he suffered greatly, but never 
 spoke a word of complaint.
 
 270 ' CKOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 On the fourth nio^ht, Blanche sat as 
 usual by his bedside, clasping his hand in 
 hers, when, about three o'clock, he fell 
 asleep ; she watched him motionless for 
 an hour, and then, still holding his hand, 
 her head drooped on to his pillow, where 
 she often had let it lie, and, exhausted as 
 she was, she fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 At eight o'clock Mrs. Garratt, with the 
 doctor, gently opened the door ; and as the 
 good woman saw these two equally pale 
 faces thus resting motionless, she started. 
 Her first impression was that both were 
 dead ; but Cecil opened his eyes, and, 
 raising himself, feebly touched his sister's 
 forehead with his lips, and she too awoke. 
 The doctor, whom neither had at first 
 seen, pronounced him much better ; the 
 crisis had passed, and he would now only 
 require stimulants and plenty of nourish- 
 ment, the best wine, and every delicacy to 
 tempt his appetite. Though Cecil now and 
 then made an objection, these were pro-
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 271 
 
 cured, quite regardless of cost, and be be- 
 gan to recover in a manner as rapid as his 
 seizure had been. 
 
 But how Blanche longed for her gay, 
 pretty boudoir for him to sit in, and his 
 own large, airy, comfortable bed-room at 
 Crown-Harden ; and when, though rarely, 
 the sun did shine, how she pined to take 
 him out among the gardens and those 
 sheltered avenues at home — home ! she 
 had no home now. 
 
 Though she fought bravely against de- 
 pressing thoughts, fatigue and anxiety had 
 lowered her spirits at last, but she never 
 suffered Cecil to perceive it. 
 
 All this, of course, had been a gr^at ex- 
 pense, and for the first time Cecil, unwilling 
 as he was, dipped into the sum of money 
 that Yilleroy had advanced to him, for 
 he now felt certain that what he spent of it 
 he should never be able to repay ; but he 
 preferred being indebted to his friend
 
 272 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 rather tlian diminisliing Blanclie's poor 
 little store. 
 
 Blanche was considerably surprised at 
 the large sum Cecil silently produced to 
 pay the expenses incident on his illness. 
 She only supposed that he had received 
 from Smith a larger remittance than they 
 had expected, and would not trouble him 
 by asking questions on the disagreeable 
 subject of money. 
 
 As Cecil took out what was requisite, he 
 began to wonder that Villeroy — who never 
 forgot any promise to them — had not yet 
 sent them the recommendation he had 
 asked for respecting Sir PhiHp Holland's 
 gamekeeper's situation. A certain doubtful 
 wish had often crossed his mind, especially 
 lately, on that subject, though he felt 
 ashamed to broach it to Blanche. 
 
 An evening or two later, as they were 
 sitting together, no longer, alas ! making 
 plans or suggesting projects for the future, 
 the very letter he had been thinking of was
 
 CROWN -HAEDEN. ^ 273 
 
 brought in. It appeared that Yilleroy had 
 been obhged unexpectedly to hurry off to 
 meet a friend, and had left his letter in the 
 hands of the mistress of the hotel he was 
 staying at, desiring her to send it to the 
 post. She had mislaid it, and had only 
 recently found and forwarded it. 
 
 Cecil read the recommendation for the 
 gamekeeper, all complete, except that a 
 blank was left for the name; and it was 
 so worded, as Cecil had suggested, that it 
 could be rendered available for any respect- 
 able young man. He gave it to Blanche, 
 who also read it. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking of," she 
 said ; '' of going to offer yourself as Sir 
 Phihp Holland's gamekeeper." 
 
 " It did occur to me, I own," he an- 
 swered ; " if there were any suitable and 
 comfortable home to be found for you, dear 
 Blanche." 
 
 *' My home is with you, Cecil," she re- 
 plied ; '' where you go, I shall go. We will 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 not be separated — that I will never consent 
 to. Oh, my dear Cecil, I do not like to 
 worry you ; but I cannot tell you how I 
 wish, how I long to get out of this horrible 
 London that I once thought so delightful ! 
 how I long for the peace, the freedom, the 
 quiet of the country. I think I shall like 
 to be the gamekeeper's sister — for a time, 
 you know." 
 
 '' You are quite a little heroine, darling," 
 said Cecil, affectionately. 
 
 " It's more the love of change," answered 
 Blanche. " On the whole, I think it would 
 be rather fun. I can see myself trotting 
 about getting your tea and supper, the 
 kettle hissing away, and the cat purring on 
 the hearth, and I in a brown gown tucked 
 up, and scarlet petticoat. I really must 
 get a brown gown, Cecil dear, and don't 
 you think a few aprons ? I dare say, in- 
 deed I am quite sure, it will be a lovely 
 cottage a,ll in a wood, perhaps with antlers 
 stuck round the entrance. I think we had
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 275 
 
 better leave some of our smart things with 
 the good landlady here. Mrs. Garratt is 
 an excellent woman, and will take care of 
 them. The sooner we are off the better, 
 for, to tell the truth, I have discovered that 
 we are living very far beyond our means 
 here, and I was at my wit's end what we 
 should do next." 
 
 " Our means ! they are yours alone, 
 Blanche," said Cecil. 
 
 " If you say so absurd a thing again, I 
 shall quarrel with you. Whatever we have, 
 is between us. Why, you silly boy, if 
 your salary will keep us — when we get it, 
 I mean — I intend us to live on it and 
 hoard our riches in an old stocking. Is 
 not that the orthodox way ? " 
 
 It was therefore decided to give notice 
 to Mrs. Garratt at once, and go as soon as 
 possible into Somersetshire. 
 
 It was a long journey, and for the first 
 time in her life, Blanche travelled with her 
 brother in a second-class carriage. She 
 
 T 2
 
 276 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 was higlily amused with the old women 
 and their huge baskets crammed so full that 
 the lids gaped open, eating morsels of dry 
 seed cake ; with the servant-girls, calling 
 each other young ladies ; and farther from 
 town with the jolly farmers, settling them- 
 selves and their great-coats, panting the 
 while ; she was only once horrified, and that 
 was by a fearful odour of peppermint drops 
 proceeding from an elderly lady in a worm- 
 eaten, ancient fur victorine, a shabby 
 genteel silk cloak and brown thread gloves. 
 
 One grizzly-headed farmer she quite en- 
 slaved by her knowledge of agriculture, 
 the crops, the turnips, the bush-harrowing, 
 the tile-draining and the denchering seemed 
 as familiar to her as the last new opera or 
 novel. It was her nature and her destiny 
 to make conquests, and if she had not the 
 chance elsewhere, she took it in a second- 
 class railway carriage. 
 
 They spent the night at a small inn at 
 the village nearest to Sir Phihp Holland's
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 277 
 
 residence, and the following morning Cecil, 
 dressing in the most unpretending manner 
 he could, went off to Holland Abbey, to 
 try his fortune in a new capacity, and 
 strange to say was accepted. 
 
 Sir Philip Holland, though very sus- 
 picious, was also very short-sighted, and 
 Cecil took care to speak as little as possible. 
 His youth was an objection, but he pro- 
 posed to Sir Phihp Holland to give him a 
 trial, and after some demur it was agreed 
 to. 
 
 He came back to the little village inn, 
 informed Blanche of his success, ordered 
 some mutton chops for dinner, and went 
 out again to find some one to show him the 
 way to his cottage. 
 
 He fell in speedily with the very person 
 he wanted, a farrier by profession, whose 
 custom had so much declined that he was 
 glad to get a job anywhere. Old Barty 
 Brewster had also a good-humoured wife 
 and a couple of buxom daughters, one out
 
 278 CROWX-HARDEN. 
 
 at service, the other a stout, honest girl of 
 fifteen, who accompanied her father, to see 
 if she could be of use in cleaning up a bit, 
 as she said. 
 
 Cecil was well pleased with the situation 
 and appearance of the place, looked over 
 it, and gave orders that not only Sally 
 Brewster, but her mother also, should set 
 to work to scour, wash and sweep it in the 
 most thorough manner. He also engaged 
 Brewster to go with him the next day with 
 his tax-cart to the small neighbouring 
 town, and get what furniture w^as requisite. 
 
 It proved to be a raw, drizzling day, 
 therefore he advised Blanche to leave the 
 purchasing to him, getting her to make a 
 list of what would be necessary. 
 
 As is generally the case in all out of the 
 way places, he found everyone pro- 
 vokingly slow. They stood in amazement 
 at his expectations of speed, but he suc- 
 ceeded so far in overcoming the universal 
 apathy of the worthy people as to get all 
 ready by the following Saturday.
 
 279 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "IIOR the first time since the brother 
 -^ and sister had left town, the sun 
 shone bright that morning, and Blanche 
 declared it was an omen of good. 
 
 She did not at all like being stared at 
 in the village, especially as, at a prim 
 house opposite, she had noticed various 
 old maidish-looking caps protruded out of 
 the window whenever she or Cecil passed 
 in or out of their inn. 
 
 She was therefore thankful when the 
 day arrived to leave it, and was delighted 
 to put on her bonnet and large checked 
 shawl, and walk off with her brother in 
 the direction of the cottage, to be followed
 
 280 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 by Brewster and his daughter with what 
 trunks and luggage they had. 
 
 The path led over a hill, brown with 
 fallows, but the soil was a warm, red, 
 cheery brown, not a cold white, or chill, 
 blue clay. A sharp turn to the left 
 brought them opposite a stretch of forest 
 land, rising with a gentle slope upwards 
 in face of them, then they turned into a 
 narrow lane, and passed through a wooden 
 wicket gate into an open, green enclosure, 
 with a comfortable small house, built of 
 the stones common in that part of the 
 country, with a large porch, a small 
 flower garden in front, a kitchen-garden 
 on one side, and a neat paved yard behind, 
 the whole backed by the woods that, 
 except in front, almost surrounded the 
 spot. 
 
 On one side of the narrow entrance 
 passage was the kitchen, leading out to 
 wash and bake-house, &c., on the other 
 the parlour, simply but neatly furnished
 
 CROWN- HARDEN. 281 
 
 in cottage style, a pretty white paper on 
 the walls, with little pink sprigs about it, 
 a small patterned carpet, and fresh-look- 
 iDg chintz covers and curtains. 
 
 '* Oh, Cecil, I like this !" exclaimed 
 Blanche, as she looked round with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Then he took her upstairs ; his own 
 room, though neat, had the bare neces- 
 saries in it, but hers was as pretty as a 
 cottage-room could be. 
 
 The furniture was only beech, it was 
 true, but the dressing-table, the bright 
 blue and white chintz, the easy-chair, 
 everything that was comfortable was there. 
 Even the little vases for flowers, and 
 tall china candlesticks by her looking- 
 glass. 
 
 *• How kind of you, Cecil ! how good, 
 how considerate you are !" and she em- 
 braced him joyously. 
 
 That very day Sarah Brewster was en- 
 gaged as cook, housemaid, lady's maid,
 
 282 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 all in one, at the extravagant wages of 
 eight shillings per month. 
 
 The novelty o£ her situation was at first 
 agreeable to Blanche ; her little servant, 
 with the occasional assistance of her 
 mother, did the household work without 
 difficulty, except that Blanche now and 
 then in a fit of virtuous exertion washed 
 the tea-cups. 
 
 What she disliked most, were the nights 
 that Cecil made his rounds. She could 
 not sleep ; she, who never had known 
 what it was to be nervous, began to ap- 
 prehend danger for him, remembering all 
 the stories of conflicts with poachers that 
 she had ever heard. Leaning on her 
 elbow, listening intently, she would fancy 
 at times she heard distant shots ringing 
 through the woods ; and sometimes, when 
 he came in weary and exhausted, she 
 thought it was very hard to have to make 
 such sacrifices for merely sufficient to 
 support existence. But on the whole she
 
 CEOWN-HAKDEX. 283 
 
 -was not unhappy, and was always lively 
 and cheerful when Cecil was with her. 
 
 One evening, as they sat chatting by 
 their fireside, a good log blazing away 
 vigorously, Cecil said, 
 
 " I should think Villeroy must be back 
 by this time, I promised he should hear 
 from me on his return." 
 
 " You must not let him know where we 
 are," said Blanche ; " he will never find 
 out. Smith does not know, and I gave 
 strict orders to Mrs. Garratt, who will 
 forward our letters, not to give any one 
 our address." 
 
 '' But we must have some communica- 
 tion with him," Cecil remarked. 
 
 "Why?" asked Blanche. 
 
 '' In the first place he made me promise ; 
 I think too it Avould be a great pity to lose 
 sight of him. It surprises me, Blanche, 
 that you do not like him." 
 
 " I do not wish to like him," she replied. 
 
 " Why not ?" inquired Cecil, " I feel
 
 284 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 certain he likes you, I almost think he 
 loves you." 
 
 " Then pray disabuse yourself of such 
 fancies, I know better. But I tell you 
 frankly, if he did, it would not be of the 
 slightest use. Do you think I am to be 
 picked up and taken in pity? I am no 
 humble Griselda to be lifted up out of a 
 cottage into some young nobleman's arms ! 
 Do you really suppose I would put up with 
 the indignity of being scorned by that 
 proud Lady Dornington ? she never liked 
 me, and now she would thoroughly despise 
 me. It may not be very amiable, but do 
 understand, dear Cecil, that I have a great 
 deal more pride in my composition than 
 affection. I like money, high station and 
 gilded saloons above all things, but I will 
 never creep up to them by the back-stairs. 
 So say no more about Yilleroy, it annoys 
 me." 
 
 She spoke with a little more warmth 
 and agitation than usual, and Cecil sighed ;
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 285 
 
 he saw there was no hope from that 
 quarter, whence his only beacon-light had 
 shone. He had sometimes imagined that 
 through the means of his friend, whom he 
 believed to be the kindest and most 
 generous fellow breathing, and who he 
 really thought had a sincere regard for 
 Blanche, she might be restored to her 
 natural sphere; but he now saw that he 
 must resign all such flattering expectations. 
 
 He had before doubted whether Blanche 
 would, under present circumstances, en- 
 courage Villeroy's attentions — he was now 
 persuaded that she would not, and he felt 
 it his duty not to hold out to him vain hopes. 
 
 They soon after parted for the night. 
 Blanche was not at all given to the melt- 
 ing mood, and very seldom wept ; but this 
 evening, she locked her door and sat 
 down to have a good cry. After a few 
 minutes, she jumped up, went to the glass, 
 lighted her two candles and looked at 
 herself. Whatever poets may sing, beauty
 
 286 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 does not look well in tears, but Blanche 
 was so lovely, that even so she was 
 beautiful. 
 
 She gazed steadily at herself for some 
 time. 
 
 ** Yes," she said at last, " it is a pity, 
 nevertheless I shall live and die an old 
 maid. Cecil will not make a fortune, and 
 I, being a woman, cannot." 
 
 So she undressed rapidly, hurried to bed, 
 and in five minutes was fast asleep, with a 
 bright tear hanging on her long eye-lashes, 
 and a slight flush on her fair cheek, like 
 that on a white cloud at sunset, calm and 
 peaceful as a child that has cried itself to 
 sleep.
 
 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 T) OSAMOND was, it must be confessed, 
 not very popular around Deerham. 
 Her reserve and unsociable manners were 
 not likely to make a very agreeable impres- 
 sion. How could she smile and chat with 
 an aching heart ? Besides, her health 
 was in a very precarious state, and her 
 weakness extreme. 
 
 Yet she was occasionally obliged to see 
 a few neighbours, and partly through them, 
 partly through Mrs. Benson — to whom far 
 more rumours and scandals were repeated 
 than to her young mistress — Rosamond 
 heard something of the cruel and injurious 
 reports that were spread abroad about Cecil,
 
 2S8 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 and of the evil surmises in circulation re- 
 specting liim, as well as many malicious 
 remarks that Mr. Orlando Henshawe and 
 her brother had publicly made. 
 
 To her boundless indignation, she found 
 that the opinion was prevalent everywhere 
 that he had ill-used his aged uncle, as well 
 as both the Granvilles, and that there were 
 certain secret and unguessed of transactions 
 in which he had been engaged, altogether 
 too disgraceful to be made known, and which 
 entirely accounted for Mr. Nicholas Con- 
 way's sudden and utter rejection of him. 
 
 " Oh, yes," people said, " it is all very 
 well to talk of the touchiness and caprice 
 of an old man, but Mr. Conway was not a 
 person to act with gross injustice towards 
 such favourites as Cecil and Blanche had 
 been. He had his reasons, and very ample 
 ones, there was no doubt of that." 
 
 So that whereas the world had at first 
 looked upon them as victims, and had 
 vouchsafed them its somewhat insulting
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 289 
 
 pity, it now deemed them culprits, turned 
 its heel on them, and gave a very hard kick 
 indeed on every opportunity. 
 
 Rosamond felt her anger burn hot within 
 her, and now, instead of avoiding Mr. 
 Orlando Henshawe, put herself in the way 
 of meeting him. Weak and unwell as she 
 was, she felt a strength and energy of 
 wrath that would, she believed, support 
 her and subdue him. 
 
 As it always happens when you wish to 
 meet a person, it was long before she did. 
 She thought the hour would never come, 
 but it did at last. It was in a long walk 
 of clipped yew that she encountered her 
 enemy. 
 
 On meeting him she stopped short, and 
 viewed him steadily, with stinging scorn in 
 every feature of her expressive face. 
 
 " Miss Granville," said Orlando, with his 
 sleekest smile, and in his most oily tone, 
 " how often have I desired to see you once 
 more ! I have been tortured with anxiety. 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 Your health, they say, has been so deli- 
 cate." 
 
 '' I also wished to speak to you a few 
 words of warning, Mr. Orlando Henshawe," 
 she rejoined. 
 
 " I know what you are going to say," he 
 interrupted. " You would forbid me to 
 think of you ; but have you the power ? 
 Oh, Miss Granville, you ought to remem- 
 ber that when you were poor and friendless 
 I felt for you exactly the same admiration 
 as I do now ; all my thoughts, all my 
 attentions were yours." 
 
 " You had better have ascertained first 
 whether they were acceptable," she said, 
 with icy coldness. " They never were, and 
 never will be. It was not to such con- 
 temptible triviahties that I intended to 
 refer " 
 
 " Trivialities ! — contemptible ! " cried 
 Orlando, a bilious hue discolouring his face. 
 ** Do you call affection, respect, love, con- 
 temptible?"
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 291 
 
 " I wislied," said Rosamond, hauglitily, 
 not even deigning to notice his words, " I 
 wished to warn you not to venture to utter 
 slanders against my relations. Let Mr. 
 Cecil Conway's name be respected by you — 
 you owe him deference. I mean not only 
 on account of the difference of rank " 
 
 " Oh," interrupted Orlando, insolently, 
 " quite aware of that — quite so. I have 
 an established, a respectable position. I 
 am rich, and he a beggarly, destitute out- 
 cast. I pity him — I do, 'pon honour. I 
 would willingly assist him, in moderation — 
 in moderation, mind you, Miss R-osamond 
 — if that is what you are aiming at." 
 
 " You only affect to misunderstand me.- 
 You fully comprehend the wide distinction 
 between him and you," she said composedly. 
 
 '* Ah ! he is lucky in having a good-look- 
 ing face of his own ! and also in having a 
 fair cousin who so fully appreciates the 
 advantage. I am sorry — very sorry — that 
 so much kind feeling on your part should 
 
 u 2
 
 292 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 be wasted on an unworthy, and, what's 
 worse, a very ungrateful object," he said 
 insultingly, resting on the latter adjective 
 with an unmistakable sneer. 
 
 " Our friendship is mutual," Eosamond 
 answered with calm dignity ; " but all that 
 concerns Mr. Henshawe is this. I desire 
 him not to presume to make offensive re- 
 marks on members of my family." 
 
 " And how will you enforce this demand, 
 Miss Rosamond ?" he asked, with a rude 
 laugh. 
 
 " Only serpents, asps, and scorpions are 
 venomous," she replied ; " and every honest 
 man will put his heel on them and crush 
 them." Then, feeling that she had gone 
 too far, she turned away with an imperious 
 air to return to the house, but Orlando 
 Henshawe quickly confronted and arrested 
 her. 
 
 " You have insulted me as only a woman 
 dare insult a man, but you shall repent it ; 
 Cecil Conway shall pay for it."
 
 CEOWN-HARUEN. 298 
 
 Then, turning his back on her with 
 studied insolence, he left her. 
 
 She hurried into her bed-room and shut 
 herself in. She had been carried away by 
 the impetuosity of her feelings — she had 
 said words she bitterly regretted having 
 spoken ; she had stirred up to boiling pitch 
 the malice of Orlando Henshawe against 
 the very person she had wished to defend ; 
 she had acted unwisely, wrongly, madly — 
 in short, like a woman — and she had in- 
 tended to behave like a philosopher. She 
 was astonished at herself ; but when gentle, 
 quiet people do give vent to their feelings 
 on some rare occasions, they are more hot 
 and impetuous than others, just as a bottle, 
 tightly corked, effervesces with more vio- 
 lence than one that is loosely fastened 
 down. 
 
 She was uncomfortable and dissatisfied 
 with herself all the rest of the day, and 
 slept badly, with anxious dread of she 
 knew not what. In the morning a note
 
 294 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 was brought in to her, and she coloured 
 deeply on seeing the hand- writing of Or- 
 lando Henshawe. He said : — 
 
 " Dear Miss Granville, 
 '' You addressed me yesterday with an 
 amount of distressing severity that I hope 
 will excuse any want of politeness on my 
 part ; yet I lament having been guilty of 
 such — if I have, what amends can I make ? 
 I know of one only that you will receive. 
 I will obey you. I will, since you com- 
 mand it, spare the man I most dislike and 
 envy ; at least I shall thus prove the depth 
 and reality of my " — the word " love " was 
 scratched out, but still left legible, and 
 " respect '* substituted. " After such sub- 
 ;iiission on my part, I have a right to hope 
 that you will have the generosity to ac- 
 knowledge it in some way." 
 
 Rosamond sat in disagreeable hesitation 
 as to the last sentence. She ought, no
 
 CROWN-HARDEN. 295 
 
 doubt, to give some sign ; but bow ? Sbe 
 was too clever and sharp-sighted a girl to 
 believe for a moment that there was any 
 generous motive to prompt him, but rather 
 suspected there was some little snare to 
 entrap her. " No," she thought, '' I will 
 not write a line to him ; he shall not have 
 it to say that Miss Granville ever addressed 
 him on any matter of feeling. Odious as it 
 is to me, I will see him, and thank him 
 with cool civility." 
 
 Acting on this determination, she waited 
 until the afternoon, when she saw him, in 
 an elaborate toilet, slowly mincing along 
 the avenue. 
 
 She threw on an old shawl and hat, and 
 went out to meet him, determined to avow 
 that such was her intention ; accordingly 
 she did so. 
 
 "Mr. Henshawe," she said with com- 
 plete composure, " I am obliged to you 
 for your civil letter," she meant to have 
 said "polite," but the ungracious word
 
 296 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 would come out, " I fear that I was a little 
 hasty, and beg to apologise." 
 
 " You accept then my amende honor- 
 able?^' he asked, with an artful sidelong 
 glance. 
 
 '* Yes," she said, '^ and thank you." 
 
 "At least," he remarked, ''you might 
 give me your hand as a pledge of amity." 
 
 "As a proof that I bear no ill-will," she 
 replied in a shghtly marked tone. 
 
 She dared not refuse what he asked, 
 but she could scarcely refrain from a shud- 
 der as he pressed her little, slim hand 
 between both his thick, cold, clammy ones. 
 She trembled lest he should raise it to his 
 lips, as it was evident he longed to do, as he 
 relinquished it with a quivering, uncertain 
 glance — if he had, she must have snatched 
 it away, but fortunately he did not ven- 
 ture, audacious as he was. 
 
 ** Do you know. Miss Granville, tell me 
 only this — do you know that I love you ?" 
 
 "I really cannot say," answered she.
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 297 
 
 " Then I tell you that I feel for you the 
 truest interest — admiration — love — pas- 
 sion," he declared. 
 
 *' What you now say fully justifies me 
 in my resolution to avoid you. It would 
 be foolish in you, Mr. Henshawe, to en- 
 courage so fruitless a feeling if it exists. 
 Good morning." 
 
 And with the slightest possible smile of 
 courtesy, and a bend of the head she left 
 him. 
 
 '* Young fiend ! cunning little demon !" 
 he said between his clenched teeth, '' are 
 you too sharp for me, am I to be foiled by 
 the very thing I most desire ? How I 
 should love to trample you down as you 
 trample on me ! You are not happy, fiend 
 that you are — I know it ; but I should 
 like to see you a thousand times more 
 miserable, and humbled down — down to 
 the very ground !" 
 
 With such thoughts, and worse impreca- 
 tions, he wandered about the grounds and
 
 298 CEOWN-HARDEN. 
 
 gardens of Crown-Harden like the evil 
 spirit in Eden ; and when later towards even- 
 ing the house was lighted up, he stood oppo- 
 site the window of Rosamond watching it 
 until he saw her graceful figure once sha- 
 dowed on the blind. Then he turned and 
 and walked home. 
 
 ** Why has she those great, eloquent, 
 spiritual grey eyes, that lithe graceful 
 
 figure ! her ! Is it only to torment 
 
 me ! As to that infernal coxcomb young 
 Conway, the thing's done — the fever's 
 abroad — the infection has spread — the poi- 
 son, as she civilly calls it, is everywhere 
 — he has not one voice for him in the 
 county. I have done her a cheap favour — 
 and she's a greater fool than I think her 
 if she has not found that out; but no 
 matter, she's forced to own herself under 
 obligation to me, and if I don't make some- 
 thing out of that, the d — 1 is not so good 
 a friend as I take him for."
 
 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A S Rosamond sat listless in a vague 
 reverie, her open book lying for- 
 gotten on her lap, her thoughts were re- 
 called by the sound of a heavy carriage 
 rolling along the hard, frozen gravel. 
 Being rather early for callers, and startled 
 as she now was at every unexpected sound, 
 she ran with a beating heart to the 
 window, when she saw the handsome, old 
 black horses, and the heavy dowager-look- 
 ing carriage of Lady Dornington. 
 
 She was surprised, for at this time of 
 year Lady Dornington seldom honoured 
 Deerham with her presence ; she did not 
 much like the place at any time, but being
 
 300 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 situated on a considerable elevation, and 
 not much sheltered, she said that in the 
 Winter it was only fit for polar bears ; how- 
 ever, the door opened, and Lady Dorning- 
 ton entered, wrapped up in velvets and 
 furs, sufficient for the Arctic regions. 
 
 " Well, my dear Miss Granville," she 
 began, '* you ought to be very grateful ; 
 look at me in this frightful season, en- 
 countering the horrors of a Deerham 
 Winter to come and see you ; but you do 
 indeed look as if you wanted care and 
 nursing," she added kindly ; " very pretty, 
 ray dear, don't be alarmed; but very like 
 a snow-drop. You must come back to 
 Deerham with me, and let me carry you 
 off to more genial chmes." 
 
 " I cannot express my gratitude, dearest 
 Lady Dornington," said Rosamond affec- 
 tionately, " that you should take such 
 trouble^ and make such a sacrifice of your 
 comfort for me, is indeed more than I 
 know how to thank you for."
 
 CEOWN-HAEDEN. 301 
 
 " But say, my dear Rosamond, you will 
 come, will you not? Understand, that I 
 am here expressly for that purpose." 
 
 " I know not what to say. I dread ap- 
 pearing thankless ; and yet, oh ! do not 
 think me ungrateful, I do feel very unwell 
 and low-spirited, and only fit for home," 
 said Rosamond. 
 
 '' That very feehng proves the best of 
 all reasons for leaving it ; you ought to 
 exert yourself, and, painful as it may be, 
 make an elSbrt to shake off this despon- 
 dency that shows itself on every feature 
 of your face." 
 
 '* Dear Lady Dornington, I will try, I 
 will indeed ; but I cannot — cannot go 
 away from Crown-Harden, and I will tell 
 you honestly one reason why I cannot." 
 As she spoke, a bright vermilion glowed 
 on her cheeks. " I rather expect Cecil 
 here soon ; he promised to come for a day 
 or two ; there are a good many valuable 
 things of his and Blanche's left here, and
 
 302 CEOWN-HAEDENr 
 
 he said he would come and look them over 
 with me, and then he could take them 
 away with him." 
 
 Lady Dornington looked at her in 
 silence for a minute with a grave expres- 
 sion ; after a pause she asked :; 
 
 "Will Blanche come with him ?" 
 
 " I fear not !" Rosamond answered. 
 
 " Why ?" inquired Lady Dornington 
 hastily ; " cannot she forgive you ?" 
 
 " She believes, and very naturally, that 
 I did not act rightly — that I tried to in- 
 fluence my uncle to their prejudice. I 
 never showed her any affection, and I well 
 remember having said I would have re- 
 venge. She is not to blame for blaming 
 me." 
 
 " Indeed, I think she is !" said 
 Lady Dornington ; " she used to neglect 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, pray dear, dear Lady Dornington, 
 do not say one word against her ! The 
 people here are so cruel ; and only because
 
 CROWN-HAEDEN. 303 
 
 tliey are unfortunate !" And after a very 
 short struggle, poor Rosamond burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " I quite enter into your feelings, dear 
 Eosamond, but tell me where are they ?" 
 
 " I don't know !" sobbed Rosamond. 
 
 " Don't you know ? how very odd !" 
 
 " But dear Lady Dornington !" ex- 
 claimed Rosamond jumping up, and throw- 
 ing herself on the sofa by her side, while 
 she put her arms round her, pressing her to 
 her heart as if she had been her mother, 
 " dear Lady Dornington, you are generous, 
 noble-hearted, you will feel for them. Think 
 of Blanche, accustomed to every luxury, to 
 be the darling, the queen — homeless, poor, 
 a wanderer ! and think, too, of poor Cecil ! 
 Oh ! Lady Dornington, you will be kind, 
 you will defend them^ you will silence 
 those mean creatures who used to bow 
 before them, and now are so ready to 
 crush them — you will, I know." 
 
 As she thus spoke, Lady Dornington did
 
 304 CROWN-HARDEN. 
 
 feel a very sharp prick in her conscience. 
 How sturdily she had refused her own son 
 when he entreated her to show kindness 
 to Blanche. 
 
 "Are they so very badly off?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! so little — nothing scarcely ! 
 and for them, brought up as they have 
 been ! Oh, Lady Dornington, I can think 
 of nothing else, and yet I cannot bear to 
 think of it." 
 
 ''In the will it is provided that you 
 should do nothing for them !" said Lady 
 Dornington. 
 
 "Yes, it is," Rosamond answered; "if 
 I do, it all goes away to some charity. I 
 care nothing for that ; my only reason for 
 wishing to keep Crown-Harden is the hope 
 that we may some day be friends again, 
 and they will come to it." 
 
 " And you are not allowed to marry 
 Cecil," Lady Dornington observed.
 
 , CROWN-HARDEN. 305 
 
 Again a flusli rose to Rosamond's pale 
 face. 
 
 " No — even if we desired it — in that 
 case it would all go." 
 
 " It is a very peculiar case," said Lady 
 Dornington. 
 
 *' Oh, Lady Dorniugton, it is un- 
 exampled — it is misery ! I see no 
 way out of it — I find it impossible, 
 quite impossible to forget for one single 
 moment how unhappy they are — how 
 wretched I am. If I had to be among 
 friends, to drive away thought, to stun 
 this eternal turmoil in my brain, this 
 round of perplexing wishes and despair, 
 I should go mad — I must be quiet, 
 I must indeed." 
 
 " My dear child, I will not press you. 
 I cannot stay here more than a week, but 
 I will come and see you now and then. 
 You can bear to see me ?" 
 
 '' Oh yes, dear Lady Dornington," 
 Rosamond exclaimed, '' I shall be thankful ; 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 CROWN-HAEDEN. 
 
 I have opened my heart to you; but I 
 could not bear more.'* 
 
 " I see, dear child." 
 
 "And how will it end?" exclaimed 
 Rosamond. "Am I to look to time for 
 the only remedy ? Am I to have no hope 
 but that we shall at last get accustomed 
 to bear our heavy, heavy burden of sorrow ? 
 Oh, Lady Dornington, if that is all our 
 hope, it frightens me — I don't think I can 
 — I don't think I can." 
 
 And Rosamond pressed her hand across 
 her aching forehead, while her eyes looked 
 so vague and wild that Lady Dornington 
 felt alarmed for her. 
 
 "My poor child," she said, pressing 
 Rosamond in her arms, " what can I do 
 for you ?" 
 
 " Your kindness has healed this a little," 
 said Rosamond, placing her hand on her 
 heart, " but if you really are kind to me, 
 you will show kindness to them." 
 
 " I will — I promise it," answered Lady
 
 CEOWN-HAHDEN. 307 
 
 Dornington, '' all that is in my power I 
 will do, and with all my heart. I will 
 stand up for them. I will try to be of use 
 to them, and, dear Rosamond, I may suc- 
 ceed. Cheer up, dear girl." 
 
 " This — this is the first ray of hope I 
 have seen. Dear, dear Lady Dornington, 
 how can I thank you ? I cannot." 
 
 " No, dear, don't, I had rather not. But 
 trust to me. When I undertake a cause, 
 I am an energetic friend." 
 
 Rosamond almost overwhelmed her with 
 passionate caresses, and Lady Djrnington 
 left her, not only promising, but fully 
 intending faithfully to redeem her word. 
 
 END OF FTEST VOLUME.
 
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