THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 KNEBWORTH LIMITED EDITION 
 
 ALIC E 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MYSTERIES 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD BULWER LYTTON 
 
 (LORD LYTTON) 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT 
 1891
 
 KNEBWORTH LIMITED EDITION. 
 Limited to One Thousand Copies. 
 No. 595 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY, ELECTROTYPING, AND 
 1'RINTING BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 TR ' 
 
 /*/ 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 EVELYN AND SULTAN Frontispiece 
 
 "TUE LITTLE GATE OPENED, AND LADY VARGRAVE APPEARED" . 188 
 
 "' FORGIVE ME,' SAID VARGRAVE, SOOTHINGLY" 250 
 
 MALTRAVERS AND EVELYN IN THE MOONLIGHT . 338 
 
 1C4383(
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 . . . &va&o<iffu>. EURIPIDES :Hel. 1. 1116. 
 " Thee, hid the bowering vales amidst, I call" 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHO art thou, fair one, who usurp'st the place 
 
 Of Blanch, the lady of the matchless grace ? LAMB. 
 
 IT was towards the evening of a day in early April that two 
 ladies were seated by the open windows of a cottage in Devon- 
 shire. The lawn before them was gay with evergreens, re- 
 lieved by the first few flowers and fresh turf of the reviving 
 spring; and at a distance, through an opening amongst the 
 trees, the sea, blue and tranquil, bounded the view, and con- 
 trasted the more confined and home-like features of the scene. 
 It was a spot remote, sequestered, shut out from the business 
 and pleasures of the world ; as such it suited the tastes and 
 character of the owner. 
 
 That owner was the younger of the ladies seated by the 
 window. You would scarcely have guessed, from her appear- 
 ance, that she was more than seven or eight and twenty, 
 though she exceeded by four or five years that critical boun- 
 dary in the life of beauty. Her form was slight and delicate 
 in its proportions, nor was her countenance the less lovely 
 because, from its gentleness and repose (not unmixed with a 
 certain sadness) the coarse and the gay might have thought it 
 
 1
 
 2 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 wanting in expression. For there is a stillness in the aspect 
 of those who have felt deeply, which deceives the common 
 eye, as rivers are often alike tranquil and profound, in pro- 
 portion as they are remote from the springs which agitated 
 and swelled the commencement of their course, and by which 
 their waters are still, though invisibly, supplied. 
 
 The elder lady, the guest of her companion, was past 
 seventy; her gray hair was drawn back from the forehead, 
 and gathered under a stiff cap of quaker-like simplicity ; while 
 her dress, rich but plain, and of no very modern fashion, 
 served to increase the venerable appearance of one who 
 seemed not ashamed of years. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Leslie," said the lady of the house, after a 
 thoughtful pause in the conversation that had been carried on 
 for the last hour, " it is very true ; perhaps I was to blame in 
 coming to this place; I ought not to have been so selfish." 
 
 " No, my dear friend, " returned Mrs. Leslie, gently ; " sel- 
 fish is a word that can never be applied to you ; you acted as 
 became you, agreeably to your own instinctive sense of what 
 is best when at your age, independent in fortune and rank, 
 and still so lovely, you resigned all that would have 
 attracted others, and devoted yourself, in retirement, to a 
 life of quiet and unknown benevolence. You are in your 
 sphere in this village, humble though it be, consoling, 
 relieving, healing the wretched, the destitute, the infirm ; and 
 teaching your Evelyn insensibly to imitate your modest and 
 Christian virtues." The good old lady spoke warmly, and 
 with tears in her eyes; her companion placed her hand in 
 Mrs. Leslie's. 
 
 "You cannot make me vain," said she, with a sweet and 
 melancholy smile. " I remember what I was when you first 
 gave shelter to the poor, desolate wanderer and her fatherless 
 child; and I, who was then so poor and destitute, what should 
 I be, if I was deaf to the poverty and sorrows of others, 
 others, too, who are better than I am. But now Evelyn, as 
 you say, is growing up; the time approaches when she must 
 decide on accepting or rejecting Lord Vargrave. And yet in 
 this village how can she compare him with others; how can
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 3 
 
 she form a choice? What you say is very true; and yet I did 
 not think of it sufficiently. What shall I do? I am only 
 anxious, dear girl, to act so as may be best for her own 
 happiness." 
 
 "Of that I am sure," returned Mrs. Leslie; "and yet I 
 know not how to advise. On one hand, so much is due to 
 the wishes of your late husband, in every point of view, 
 that if Lord Vargrave be worthy of Evelyn's esteem and 
 affection, it would be most desirable that she should prefer 
 him to all others. But if he be what I hear he is considered 
 in the world, an artful, scheming, almost heartless man, 
 of ambitious and hard pursuits, I tremble to think how 
 completely the happiness of Evelyn's whole life may be 
 thrown away. She certainly is not in love with him, and 
 yet I fear she is one whose nature is but too susceptible of 
 affection. She ought now to see others, to know her own 
 mind, and not to be hurried, blindfold and inexperienced, into 
 a step that decides existence. This is a duty we owe to her, 
 nay, even to the late Lord Vargrave, anxious as he was for 
 the marriage. His aim was surely her happiness, and he 
 would not have insisted upon means that time and circum- 
 stances might show to be contrary to the end he had in view." 
 
 "You are right," replied Lady Vargrave. "When my poor 
 husband lay on his bed of death, just before he summoned his 
 nephew to receive his last blessing, he said to me, ' Provi- 
 dence can counteract all our schemes. If ever it should be 
 for Evelyn's real happiness that my wish for her marriage 
 with Lumley Ferrers should not be fulfilled, to you I must 
 leave the right to decide on what I cannot foresee. All I ask 
 is that no obstacle shall be thrown in the way of my wish; 
 and that the child shall be trained up to consider Lumley as 
 her future husband.' Among his papers was a letter addressed 
 to me to the same effect; and, indeed, in other respects that 
 letter left more to my judgment than I had any right to 
 expect. Oh, I am often unhappy to think that he did not 
 marry one who would have deserved his affection ! and but 
 regret is useless now." 
 
 "I wish you could really feel so," said Mrs. Leslie; "for
 
 4 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 regret of another kind still seems to haunt you ; and I do not 
 think you have yet forgotten your early sorrows." 
 
 "Ah, how can I?" said Lady Vargrave, with a quivering 
 lip. 
 
 At that instant, a light shadow darkened the sunny lawn in 
 front of the casements, and a sweet, gay young voice was 
 heard singing at a little distance; a moment more, and a 
 beautiful girl, in the first bloom of youth, bounded lightly 
 along the grass, and halted opposite the friends. 
 
 It was a remarkable contrast, the repose and quiet of the 
 two persons we have described, the age and gray hairs of one, 
 the resigned and melancholy gentleness written on the features 
 of the other with the springing step and laughing eyes and 
 radiant bloom of the new comer! As she stood with the set- 
 ting sun glowing full upon her rich fair hair, her happy coun- 
 tenance and elastic form, it was a vision almost too bright for 
 this weary earth, a thing of light and bliss, that the joy- 
 ous Greek might have placed among the forms of Heaven, 
 and worshipped as an Aurora or a Hebe. 
 
 "Oh, how can you stay indoors this beautiful evening? 
 Come, dearest Mrs. Leslie; come, Mother, dear Mother, you 
 know you promised you would, you said I was to call you; 
 see, it will rain no more, and the shower has left the myrtles 
 and the violet-bank so fresh." 
 
 "My dear Evelyn," said Mrs. Leslie, with a smile, "I am 
 not so young as you." 
 
 "No; but you are just as gay when you are in good spirits 
 and who can be out of spirits in such weather? Let me call 
 for your chair; let me wheel you I am sure I can. Down, 
 Sultan; so you have found me out, have you, sir? Be quiet, 
 sir, down ! " 
 
 This last exhortation was addressed to a splendid dog of 
 the Newfoundland breed, who now contrived wholly to occupy 
 Evelyn's attention. 
 
 The two friends looked at this beautiful girl, as with all 
 the grace of youth she shared while she rebuked the exuber- 
 ant hilarity of her huge playmate; and the elder of the two 
 seemed the most to sympathize with her mirth. Both gazed
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 5 
 
 with fond affection upon an object dear to both. But some 
 memory or association touched Lady Vargrave, and she sighed 
 as she gazed. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Is stormy life preferred to this serene ? YOTJNG : Satires. 
 
 AND the windows were closed in, and night had succeeded 
 to evening, and the little party at the cottage were grouped 
 together. Mrs. Leslie was quietly seated at her tambour- 
 frame ; Lady Vargrave, leaning her cheek on her hand, seemed 
 absorbed in a volume before her, but her eyes were not on the 
 page ; Evelyn was busily employed in turning over the con- 
 tents of a parcel of books and music which had just been 
 brought from the lodge where the London coach had 
 deposited it. 
 
 "Oh, dear Mamma!" cried Evelyn, "I am so glad; there 
 is something you will like, some of the poetry that touched 
 you so much set to music." 
 
 Evelyn brought the songs to her mother, who roused herself 
 from her revery, and looked at them with interest. 
 
 "It is very strange," said she, "that I should be so affected 
 by all that is written by this person : I, too " (she added, ten- 
 derly stroking down Evelyn's luxuriant tresses), " who am not 
 so fond of reading as you are ! " 
 
 "You are reading one of his books now," said Evelyn, 
 glancing over the open page on the table. " Ah, that beauti- 
 ful passage upon ' Our First Impressions.' Yet I do not like 
 you, dear Mother, to read his books; they always seem to 
 make you sad." 
 
 " There is a charm to me in their thoughts, their manner of 
 expression," said Lady Vargrave, "which sets me thinking, 
 which reminds me of of an early friend, whom I could fancy 
 I hear talking while I read. It was so from the first time I 
 opened by accident a book of his years ago."
 
 6 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Who is this author that pleases you so much? " asked Mrs. 
 Leslie, with some surprise; for Lady Vargrave had usually 
 little pleasure in reading even the greatest and most popular 
 masterpieces of modern genius. 
 
 "Maltravers," answered Evelyn; "and I think I almost 
 share my mother's enthusiasm." 
 
 "Maltravers!" repeated Mrs. Leslie. "He is, perhaps, a 
 dangerous writer for one so young. At your age, dear girl, 
 you have naturally romance and feeling enough of your own 
 without seeking them in books." 
 
 "But, dear madam," said Evelyn, standing up for her 
 favourite, "his writings do not consist of romance and feel- 
 ing only; they are not exaggerated, they are so simple, so 
 truthful." 
 
 "Did you ever meet him? " asked Lady Vargrave. 
 
 "Yes," returned Mrs. Leslie, "once, when he was a gay, 
 fair-haired boy. His father resided in the next county, and 
 we met at a country-house. Mr. Maltravers himself has an 
 
 estate near my daughter in B shire, but he does not live 
 
 on it ; he has been some years abroad, a strange character ! " 
 
 "Why does he write no more?" said Evelyn; "I have read 
 his works so often, and know his poetry so well by heart, 
 that I should look forward to something new from him as an 
 event." 
 
 " I have heard, my dear, that he has withdrawn much from 
 the world and its objects, that he has lived greatly in the 
 East. The death of a lady to whom he was to have been mar- 
 ried is said to have unsettled and changed his character. Since 
 that event he has not returned to England. Lord Vargrave 
 can tell you more of him than I." 
 
 " Lord Vargrave thinks of nothing that is not always before 
 the world," said Evelyn. 
 
 " I am sure you wrong him, " said Mrs. Leslie, looking up 
 and fixing her eyes on Evelyn's countenance ; " for you are not 
 before the world." 
 
 Evelyn slightly very slightly pouted her pretty lip, 
 but made no answer. She took up the music, and seating 
 herself at the piano, practised the airs. Lady Vargrave lis-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 7 
 
 tened with emotion; and as Evelyn in a voice exquisitely 
 sweet, though not powerful, sang the words, her mother 
 turned away her face, and half unconsciously, a few tears 
 stole silently down her cheek. 
 
 When Evelyn ceased, herself affected, for the lines were 
 impressed with a wild and melancholy depth of feeling, she 
 came again to her mother's side, and seeing her emotion, 
 kissed away the tears from the pensive eyes. Her own gayety 
 left her; she drew a stool to her mother's feet, and nestling 
 to her, and clasping her hand, did not leave that place till 
 they retired to rest. 
 
 And the lady blessed Evelyn, and felt that, if bereaved, she 
 was not alone. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BUT come, them Goddess, fair and free, 
 In heaven yclept Euphrosyne ! 
 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 
 And, singing, startle the dull night. L' Allegro. 
 
 But come, thou Goddess, sage and holy, 
 Come, divinest Melancholy ! 
 
 There held in holy passion still, 
 
 Forget thyself to marble. // Penseroso. 
 
 THE early morn of early spring what associations of 
 freshness and hope in that single sentence! And there 
 a little after sunrise there was Evelyn, fresh and hopeful 
 as the morning itself, bounding with the light step of a light 
 heart over the lawn. Alone, alone! no governess, with a 
 pinched nose and a sharp voice, to curb her graceful move- 
 ments, and tell her how young ladies ought to walk. How 
 silently morning stole over the earth ! It was as if youth had
 
 8 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 the day and the world to itself. The shutters of the cottage 
 were still closed, and Evelyn cast a glance upward, to assure 
 herself that her mother, who also rose betimes, was not yet 
 stirring. So she tripped along, singing from very glee, to 
 secure a companion, and let out Sultan; and a few moments 
 afterwards, they were scouring over the grass, and descending 
 the rude steps that wound down the cliff to the smooth sea- 
 sands. Evelyn was still a child at heart, yet somewhat more 
 than a child in mind. In the majesty of 
 
 " That hollow, sounding, and mysterious main," 
 
 in the silence broken but by the murmur of the billows, in 
 the solitude relieved but by the boats of the early fishermen, 
 she felt those deep and tranquillizing influences which belong 
 to the Religion of Nature. Unconsciously to herself, her 
 sweet face grew more thoughtful, and her step more slow. 
 What a complex thing is education! How many circum- 
 stances, that have no connection with books and tutors, con- 
 tribute to the rearing of the human mind ! The earth and the 
 sky and the ocean were among the teachers of Evelyn Came- 
 ron ; and beneath her simplicity of thought was daily filled, 
 from the turns of invisible spirits, the fountain of the poetry 
 of feeling. 
 
 This was the hour when Evelyn most sensibly felt how 
 little our real life is chronicled by external events, how 
 much we live a second and a higher life in our meditations 
 and dreams. Brought up, not more by precept than example, 
 in the faith which unites creature and Creator, this was the 
 hour in which thought itself had something of the holiness of 
 prayer ; and if (turning from dreams divine to earlier visions) 
 this also was the hour in which the heart painted and peopled 
 its own fairyland below, of the two ideal worlds that stretch 
 beyond the inch of time on which we stand, Imagination is 
 perhaps holier than Memory. 
 
 So now, as the day crept on, Evelyn returned in a more 
 sober mood, and then she joined her mother and Mrs. Leslie 
 at breakfast; and then the household cares such as they
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 9 
 
 were devolved upon her, heiress though she was ; and, that 
 duty done, once more the straw hat and Sultan were in requi- 
 sition; and opening a little gate at the back of the cottage, 
 she took the path along the village churchyard that led to the 
 house of the old curate. The burial-ground itself was sur- 
 rounded and shut in with a belt of trees. Save the small 
 time-discoloured church and the roofs of the cottage and the 
 minister's house, no building not even a cotter's hut was 
 visible there. Beneath a dark and single yew-tree in the 
 centre of the ground was placed a rude seat; opposite to this 
 seat was a grave, distinguished from the rest by a slight pal- 
 isade. As the young Evelyn passed slowly by this spot, a 
 glove on the long damp grass beside the yew-tree caught her 
 eye. She took it up and sighed, it was her mother's. She 
 sighed, for she thought of the soft melancholy on that mother's 
 face which her caresses and her mirth never could wholly 
 chase away. She wondered why that melancholy was so fixed 
 a habit, for the young ever wonder why the experienced should 
 be sad. 
 
 And now Evelyn had passed the churchyard, and was on the 
 green turf before the minister's quaint, old-fashioned house. 
 
 The old man himself was at work in his garden; but* he 
 threw down his hoe as he saw Evelyn, and came cheerfully 
 up to greet her. 
 
 It was easy to see how dear she was to him. 
 
 "So you are come for your daily lesson, my young pupil?" 
 
 " Yes ; but Tasso can wait if the " 
 
 "If the tutor wants to play truant; no, my child; and, 
 indeed, the lesson must be longer than usual to-day, for I 
 fear I shall have to leave you to-morrow for some days." 
 
 " Leave us ! why? leave Brook-Green impossible ! " 
 
 " Not at all impossible ; for we have now a new vicar, and I 
 must turn courtier in my old age, and ask him to leave me 
 with my flock. He is at Weymouth, and has written to me to 
 visit him there. So, Miss Evelyn, I must give you a holiday 
 task to learn while I am away." 
 
 Evelyn brushed the tears from her eyes for when the 
 heart is full of affection the eyes easily run over and clung
 
 10 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 mournfully to the old man, as she gave utterance to all her 
 half-childish, half-womanly grief at the thought of parting so 
 soon with him. And what, too, could her mother do without 
 him ; and why could he not write to the vicar instead of going 
 to him? 
 
 The curate, who was childless and a bachelor, was not 
 insensible to the fondness of his beautiful pupil, and perhaps 
 he himself was a little more distrait than usual that morning, 
 or else Evelyn was peculiarly inattentive; fer certain it is 
 that she reaped very little benefit from the lesson. 
 
 Yet he was an admirable teacher, that old man ! Aware of 
 Evelyn's quick, susceptible, and rather fanciful character 
 of mind, he had sought less to curb than to refine and elevate 
 her imagination. Himself of no ordinary abilities, which 
 leisure had allowed him to cultivate, his piety was too large 
 and' cheerful to exclude literature Heaven's best gift from 
 the pale of religion. And under his care Evelyn's mind had 
 been duly stored with the treasures of modern genius, and her 
 judgment strengthened by the criticisms of a graceful and 
 generous taste. 
 
 In that sequestered hamlet, the young heiress had been 
 trained to adorn her future station ; to appreciate the arts and 
 elegances that distinguish (no matter what the rank) the 
 refined from the low, better than if she had been brought 
 up under the hundred-handed Briareus of fashionable educa- 
 tion. Lady Vargrave, indeed, like most persons of modest 
 pretensions and imperfect cultivation, was rather inclined to 
 overrate the advantages to be derived from book-knowledge ; 
 and she was never better pleased than when she saw Evelyn 
 opening the monthly parcel from London, and delightedly 
 poring over volumes which Lady Vargrave innocently believed 
 to be reservoirs of inexhaustible wisdom. 
 
 But this day Evelyn would not read, and the golden verses 
 of Tasso lost their music to her ear. So the curate gave up 
 the lecture, and placed a little programme of studies to be 
 conned during his absence in her reluctant hand; and Sultan, 
 who had been wistfully licking his paws for the last half -hour, 
 sprang up and caracoled once more into the garden ; and the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 11 
 
 old priest and the young woman left the works of man for 
 those of Nature. 
 
 "Do not fear, I will take such care of your garden while 
 you are away," said Evelyn; "and you must write and let us 
 know what day you are to come back." 
 
 " My dear Evelyn, you are born to spoil every one from 
 Sultan to Aubrey." 
 
 "And to be spoilt too, don't forget that," cried Evelyn, 
 laughingly shaking back her ringlets. " And now, before you 
 go, will you tell me, as you are so wise, what I can do to 
 make to make my mother love me?" 
 
 Evelyn's voice faltered as she spoke the last words, and 
 Aubrey looked surprised and moved. 
 
 "Your mother love you, my dear Evelyn! What do you 
 mean, does she not love you?" 
 
 " Ah, not as I love her. She is kind and gentle, I know, 
 for she is so to all; but she does not confide in me, she does 
 not trust me ; she has some sorrow at heart which I am never 
 allowed to learn and soothe. Why does she avoid all mention 
 of her early days? She never talks to me as if she, too, had 
 once a mother ! Why am I never to speak of her first mar- 
 riage, of my father? Why does she look reproachfully at me, 
 and shun me yes, shun me, for days together if if I 
 attempt to draw her to the past? Is there a secret? If so, 
 am I not old enough to know it?" 
 
 Evelyn spoke quickly and nervously, and with quivering 
 lips. Aubrey took her hand, and pressing it, said, after a 
 little pause, 
 
 " Evelyn, this is the first time you have ever thus spoken 
 to me. Has anything chanced to arouse your shall I call it 
 curiosity, or shall I call it the mortified pride of affection?" 
 
 "And you, too, are harsh; you blame me! No, it is true 
 that I have not thus spoken to you before; but I have long, 
 long thought with grief that I was insufficient to my mother's 
 happiness, I who love her so dearly. And now, since Mrs. 
 Leslie has been here, I find her conversing with this compara- 
 tive stranger so much more confidentially than with me. 
 When I come in unexpectedly, they cease their conference,
 
 12 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 as if I were not worthy to share it ; and and oh, if I could 
 but make you understand that all I desire is that my mother 
 should love me and know me and trust me " 
 
 " Evelyn, " said the curate, coldly, " you love your mother, 
 and justly ; a kinder and a gentler heart than hers does not 
 beat in a human breast. Her first wish in life is for your 
 happiness and welfare. You ask for confidence, but why not 
 confide in her; why not believe her actuated by the best and 
 the tenderest motives ; why not leave it to her discretion to 
 reveal to you any secret grief, if such there be, that preys 
 upon her; why add to that grief by any selfish indulgence of 
 over-susceptibility in yourself? My dear pupil, you are yet 
 almost a child; and they who have sorrowed may well be 
 reluctant to sadden with a melancholy confidence those to 
 whom sorrow is yet unknown. This much, at least, I may 
 tell you, for this much she does not seek to conceal, that 
 Lady Vargrave was early inured to trials from which you, 
 more happy, have been saved. She speaks not to you of her 
 relations, for she has none left on earth. And after her mar- 
 riage with your benefactor, Evelyn, perhaps it seemed to her 
 a matter of principle to banish all vain regret, all remem- 
 brance if possible, of an earlier tie." 
 
 "My poor, poor mother! Oh, yes, you are right; forgive 
 me. She yet mourns, perhaps, my father, whom I never saw, 
 whom I feel, as it were, tacitly forbid to name, you did not 
 know him?" 
 
 "Him! whom?" 
 
 "My father, my mother's first husband." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " But I am sure I could not have loved him so well as my 
 benefactor, my real and second father, who is now dead and 
 gone. Oh, how well I remember him, how fondly! " Here 
 Evelyn stopped and burst into tears. 
 
 "You do right to remember him thus; to love and revere 
 his memory, a father indeed he was to you. But now, 
 Evelyn, my own dear child, hear me. Eespect the silent 
 heart of your mother ; let her not think that her misfortunes, 
 whatever they may be, can cast a shadow over you, you, her
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 13 
 
 last hope and blessing. Bather than seek to open the old 
 wounds, suffer them to heal, as they must, beneath the influ- 
 ences of religion and time ; and wait the hour when without, 
 perhaps, too keen a grief, your mother can go back with you 
 into the past." 
 
 "I will, I will! Oh, how wicked, how ungracious I have 
 been! It was but an excess of love, believe it, dear Mr. 
 Aubrey, believe it." 
 
 " I do believe it, my poor Evelyn ; and now I know that I 
 may trust in you. Come, dry those bright eyes, or they will 
 think I have been a hard taskmaster, and let us go to the 
 cottage." 
 
 ^ They walked slowly and silently across the humble garden 
 into the churchyard, and there, by the old yew-tree, they saw 
 Lady Vargrave. Evelyn, fearful that the traces of her tears 
 were yet visible, drew back; and Aubrey, aware of what 
 passed within her, said, 
 
 " Shall I join your mother, and tell her of my approaching 
 departure? And perhaps in the meanwhile you will call at 
 our poor pensioner's in the village, Dame Newman is so 
 anxious to see you; we will join you there soon." 
 
 Evelyn smiled her thanks, and kissing her hand to her 
 mother with seeming gayety, turned back and passed through 
 the glebe into the little village. Aubrey joined Lady Var- 
 grave, and drew her arm in his. 
 
 Meanwhile Evelyn thoughtfully pursued her way. Her 
 heart was full, and of self-reproach. Her mother had, then, 
 known cause for sorrow; and perhaps her reserve was but 
 occasioned by her reluctance to pain her child. Oh, how 
 doubly anxious would Evelyn be hereafter to soothe, to com- 
 fort, to wean that dear mother from the past! Though in 
 this girl's character there was something of the impetuosity 
 and thoughtlessness of her years, it was noble as well as soft ; 
 and now the woman's trustfulness conquered all the woman's 
 curiosity. 
 
 She entered the cottage of the old bedridden crone whom 
 Aubrey had referred to. It was as a gleam of sunshine, 
 that sweet comforting face; and here, seated by the old
 
 14 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 woman's side, with the Book of the Poor upon her lap, 
 Evelyn was found by Lady Vargrave. It was curious to 
 observe the different impressions upon the cottagers made 
 by the mother and daughter. Both were beloved with almost 
 equal enthusiasm; but with the first the poor felt more at 
 home. They could talk to her more at ease : she understood 
 them so much more quickly ; they had no need to beat about 
 the bush to tell the little peevish complaints that they were 
 half-ashamed to utter to Evelyn. What seemed so light to 
 the young, cheerful beauty, the mother listened to with so 
 grave and sweet a patience. When all went right, they 
 rejoiced to see Evelyn; but in their little difficulties and 
 sorrows nobody was like " my good Lady ! " 
 
 So Dame Newman, the moment she saw the pale counte- 
 nance and graceful shape of Lady Vargrave at the threshold, 
 uttered an exclamation of delight. Now she could let out all 
 that she did not like to trouble the young lady with; now she 
 could complain of east winds, and rheumatiz, and the parish 
 officers, and the bad tea they sold poor people at Mr. Hart's 
 shop, and the ungrateful grandson who was so well to do and 
 who forgot he had a grandmother alive ! 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of the week we received a card from the town ladies. 
 
 Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 THE curate was gone, and the lessons suspended ; otherwise 
 as like each to each as sunshine or cloud permitted day 
 followed day in the calm retreat of Brook-Green, when, one 
 morning, Mrs. Leslie, with a letter in her hand, sought Lady 
 Vargrave, who was busied in tending the flowers of a small 
 conservatory which she had added to the cottage, when, from 
 various motives, and one in especial powerful and mysterious,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 15 
 
 she exchanged for so sequestered a home the luxurious villa 
 bequeathed to her by her husband. 
 
 To flowers those charming children of Nature, in which 
 our age can take the same tranquil pleasure as our youth 
 Lady Vargrave devoted much of her monotonous and un- 
 chequered time. She seemed to love them almost as living 
 things ; and her memory associated them with hours as bright 
 and as fleeting as themselves. 
 
 "My dear friend," said Mrs. Leslie, "I have news for you. 
 My daughter, Mrs. Merton, who has been in Cornwall on a 
 visit to her husband's mother, writes me word that she will 
 
 visit us on her road home to the Rectory in B shire. She 
 
 will not put you much out of the way," added Mrs. Leslie, 
 smiling, "for Mr. Merton will not accompany her; she only 
 brings her daughter Caroline, a lively, handsome, intelligent 
 girl, who will be enchanted with Evelyn. All you will regret 
 is, that she comes to terminate my visit, and take me away 
 with her. If you can forgive that offence, you will have 
 nothing else to pardon." 
 
 Lady Vargrave replied with her usual simple kindness ; but 
 she was evidently nervous at the visit of a stranger (for she 
 had never yet seen Mrs. Merton), and still more distressed at 
 the thought of losing Mrs. Leslie a week or two sooner than 
 had been anticipated. However, Mrs. Leslie hastened to re- 
 assure her. Mrs. Merton was so quiet and good-natured, the 
 wife of a country clergyman with simple tastes; and after 
 all, Mrs. Leslie's visit might last as long, if Lady Vargrave 
 would be contented to extend her hospitality to Mrs. Merton 
 and Caroline. 
 
 When the visit was announced to Evelyn, her young heart 
 was susceptible only of pleasure and curiosity. She had no 
 friend of her own age ; she was sure she should like the grand- 
 child of her dear Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 Evelyn, who had learned betimes, from the affectionate 
 solicitude of her nature, to relieve her mother of such few 
 domestic cares as a home so quiet, with an establishment so 
 regular, could afford, gayly busied herself in a thousand little 
 preparations. She filled the rooms of the visitors with flowers
 
 16 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 (not dreaming that any one could fancy them unwholesome), 
 and spread the tables with her own favourite books, and had 
 the little cottage piano in her own dressing-room removed 
 into Caroline's Caroline must be fond of music. She had 
 some doubts of transferring a cage with two canaries into 
 Caroline's room also; but when she approached the cage with 
 that intention, the birds chirped so merrily, and seemed so 
 glad to see her, and so expectant of sugar, that her heart smote 
 her for her meditated desertion and ingratitude. No, she 
 could not give up the canaries ; but the glass bowl with the 
 goldfish oh, that would look so pretty on its stand just by 
 the casement ; and the fish dull things ! would not miss her. 
 
 The morning, the noon, the probable hour of the important 
 arrival came at last ; and after having three times within the 
 last half-hour visited the rooms, and settled and unsettled and 
 settled again everything before arranged, Evelyn retired to 
 her own room to consult her wardrobe, and Margaret, once 
 her nurse, now her abigail. Alas! the wardrobe of the des- 
 tined Lady Vargrave the betrothed of a rising statesman, a 
 new and now an ostentatious peer; the heiress of the wealthy 
 Templeton was one that many a tradesman's daughter would 
 have disdained. Evelyn visited so little; the clergyman of 
 the place, and two old maids who lived most respectably on a 
 hundred and eighty pounds a year, in a cottage, with one 
 maidservant, two cats, and a footboy, bounded the circle of 
 her acquaintance. Her mother was so indifferent to dress; 
 she herself had found so many other ways of spending money ! 
 but Evelyn was not now more philosophical than others of 
 her age. She turned from muslin to muslin from the col- 
 oured to the white, from the white to the coloured with 
 pretty anxiety and sorrowful suspense. At last she decided 
 on the newest, and when it was on, and the single rose set in 
 the lustrous and beautiful hair, Carson herself could not have 
 added a charm. Happy age! Who wants the arts of the 
 milliner at seventeen? 
 
 " And here, miss ; here 's the fine necklace Lord Vargrave 
 brought down when my lord came last; it will look so 
 grand ! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 17 
 
 The emeralds glittered in their case; Evelyn looked at 
 them irresolutely; then, as she looked, a shade came over 
 her forehead, and she sighed, and closed the lid. 
 
 "No, Margaret, I do not want it; take it away." 
 
 " Oh, dear, miss ! what would my lord say if he were down ! 
 And they are so beautiful ! they will look so fine ! Deary me, 
 how they sparkle! But you will wear much finer when you 
 are my lady." 
 
 "I hear Mamma's bell; go, Margaret, she wants you." 
 
 Left alone, the young beauty sank down abstractedly, and 
 though-the looking-glass was opposite, it did not arrest her 
 eye; she forgot her wardrobe, her muslin dress, her fears, 
 and her guests. 
 
 "Ah," she thought, "what a weight of dread *E feel here 
 when I think of Lord Vargrave and this fatal engagement; 
 and every day I feel it more and more. To leave my dear, 
 dear mother, the dear cottage oh ! I never can. I used to 
 like him when I was a child; now I shudder at his name. 
 Why is this? He is kind; he condescends to seek to please. 
 It was the wish of my poor father, for father he really was 
 to me ; and yet oh that he had left me poor and free ! " 
 
 At this part of Evelyn's meditation the unusual sound of 
 wheels was heard on the gravel; she started up, wiped the 
 tears from her eyes, and hurried down to welcome the expected 
 guests. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TELL me, Sophy, my dear, what do you think of our new visitors ? 
 
 Vicar of Wakefidd. 
 
 MRS. MERTON and her daughter were already in the middle 
 drawing-room, seated on either side of Mrs. Leslie, the 
 former a woman of quiet and pleasing exterior, her face still 
 handsome, and if not intelligent, at least expressive of sober 
 
 2
 
 18 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 good-nature and habitual content; the latter a fine dark-eyed 
 girl, of decided countenance, and what is termed a showy 
 style of beauty, tall, self-possessed, and dressed plainly 
 indeed, but after the approved fashion. The rich bonnet of 
 the large shape then worn ; the Chantilly veil ; the gay French 
 CacJiemire; the full sleeves, at that time the unnatural rage; 
 the expensive yet unassuming role de sole ; the perfect chaus- 
 sure ; the air of society, the easy manner, the tranquil but 
 scrutinizing gaze, all startled, discomposed, and half -fright- 
 ened Evelyn. 
 
 Miss Merton herself, if more at her ease, was equally sur- 
 prised by the beauty and unconscious grace of the young fairy 
 before her, and rose to greet her with a well-bred cordiality, 
 which at once made a conquest of Evelyn's heart. 
 
 Mrs. Merton kissed her cheek, and smiled kindly on her, 
 but said little. It was easy to see that she was a less con- 
 versable and more homely person than Caroline. 
 
 When Evelyn conducted them to their rooms, the mother 
 and daughter detected at a glance the care that had provided 
 for their comforts; and something eager and expectant in 
 Evelyn's eyes taught the good-nature of the one and the good 
 breeding of the other to reward their young hostess by various 
 little exclamations of pleasure and satisfaction. 
 
 " Dear, how nice ! What a pretty writing-desk ! " said one 
 "And the pretty goldfish!" said the other "And the 
 piano, too, so well placed;" and Caroline's fair fingers ran 
 rapidly over the keys. Evelyn retired, covered with smiles 
 and blushes. And then Mrs. Merton permitted herself to say 
 to the well-dressed abigail, 
 
 "Do take away those flowers, they make me quite faint." 
 
 "And how low the room is, so confined! " said Caroline, 
 when the lady's lady withdrew with the condemned flowers. 
 " And I see no Pysche. However, the poor people have done 
 their best." 
 
 " Sweet person, Lady Vargrave ! " said Mrs. Merton, "so 
 interesting, so beautiful; and how youthful in appearance! " 
 
 " No tournure not much the manner of the world, " said 
 Caroline.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 19 
 
 "No; but something better." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Caroline. " The girl is very pretty, though 
 too small." 
 
 " Such a smile, such eyes, she is irresistible ! and what a 
 fortune! She will be a charming friend for you, Caroline." 
 
 " Yes, she may be useful, if she marry Lord Vargrave ; or, 
 indeed, if she make any brilliant match. What sort of a man 
 is Lord Vargrave?" 
 
 "I never saw him; they say, most fascinating." 
 
 "Well, she is very happy," said Caroline, with a sigh. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Two lovely damsels cheer my lonely walk. LAMB : Album Verses. 
 
 AFTER dinner there was still light enough for the young 
 people to stroll through the garden. Mrs. Merton, who was 
 afraid of the damp, preferred staying within ; and she was so 
 quiet, and made herself so much at home, that Lady Vargrave, 
 to use Mrs. Leslie's phrase, was not the least " put out " by 
 her. Besides, she talked of Evelyn, and that was a theme 
 very dear to Lady Vargrave, who was both fond and proud of 
 Evelyn. 
 
 "This is very pretty indeed, the view of the sea quite 
 lovely!" said Caroline. "You draw?" 
 
 "Yes, a little." 
 
 "From Nature?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "What, in Indian ink? " 
 
 "Yes; and water-colours." 
 
 " Oh ! Why, who could have taught you in this little vil- 
 lage; or, indeed, in this most primitive county?" 
 
 " We did not come to Brook-Green till I was nearly fifteen. 
 My dear mother, though very anxious to leave our villa at
 
 20 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Fulham, would not do so on my account, while masters could 
 be of service to me ; and as I knew she had set her heart on 
 this place, I worked doubly hard." 
 
 "Then she knew this place before?" 
 
 "Yes; she had been here many years ago, and took the 
 place after my poor father's death, I always call the late 
 Lord Vargrave my father. She used to come here regularly 
 once a year without me; and when she returned, I thought 
 her even more melancholy than before." 
 
 " What makes the charm of the place to Lady Vargrave? " 
 asked Caroline, with some interest. 
 
 " I don't know ; unless it be its extreme quiet, or some early 
 association." 
 
 "And who is your nearest neighbour? " 
 
 " Mr. Aubrey, the curate. It is so unlucky, he is gone from 
 home for a short time. You can't think how kind and pleas- 
 ant he is, the most amiable old man in the world ; just such 
 a man as Bernardin St. Pierre would have loved to describe." 
 
 "Agreeable, no doubt, but dull good curates generally 
 are." 
 
 "Dull? not the least; cheerful even to playfulness, and 
 full of information. He has been so good to me about books ; 
 indeed, I have learned a great deal from him." 
 
 "I dare say he is an admirable judge of sermons." 
 
 "But Mr. Aubrey is not severe," persisted Evelyn, earn- 
 estly; "he is very fond of Italian literature, for instance; we 
 are reading Tasso together." 
 
 " Oh ! pity he is old I think you said he was old. Per- 
 haps there is a son, the image of the sire? " 
 
 "Oh, no," said Evelyn, laughing innocently; "Mr. Aubrey 
 never married." 
 
 "And where does the old gentleman live?" 
 
 " Come a little this way ; there, you can just see the roof of 
 his house, close by the church." 
 
 "I see; it is tant soit peu triste to have the church so 
 near you." 
 
 "Do you think so? Ah, but you have not seen it; it is the 
 prettiest church in the county ; and the little burial-ground
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 21 
 
 so quiet, so shut in ; I feel better every time I pass it. Some 
 places breathe of religion." 
 
 "You are poetical, my dear little friend." 
 
 Evelyn, who had poetry in her nature, and therefore some- 
 times it broke out in her simple language, coloured and felt 
 half -ashamed. 
 
 "It is a favourite walk with my mother," said she, apolo- 
 getically ; " she often spends hours there alone : and so, per- 
 haps, I think it a prettier spot than others may. It does not 
 seem to nie^to have anything of gloom in it; when I die, I 
 should like to be buried there." 
 
 Caroline laughed slightly. "That is a strange wish; but 
 perhaps you have been crossed in love?" 
 
 "I! oh, you are laughing at me! " 
 
 "You do not remember Mr. Cameron, your real father, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 "No; I believe he died before I was born." 
 
 "Cameron is a Scotch name: to what tribe of Camerons 
 do you belong? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Evelyn, rather embarrassed; "indeed 
 I know nothing of my father's or mother's family. It is very 
 odd, but I don't think we have any relations. You know 
 when I am of age that I am to take the name of Templeton." 
 
 " Ah, the name goes with the fortune ; I understand. Dear 
 Evelyn, how rich you will be ! I do so wish I were rich ! " 
 
 "And I that I were poor," said Evelyn, with an altered tone 
 and expression of countenance. 
 
 "Strange girl! what can you mean?" 
 
 Evelyn said nothing, and Caroline examined her curiously. 
 
 " These notions come from living so much out of the world, 
 my dear Evelyn. How you must long to see more of life ! " 
 
 " I ! not in the least. I should never like to leave this place, 
 I could live and die here." 
 
 " You will think otherwise when you are Lady Vargrave. 
 Why do you look so grave? Do you not love Lord Vargrave? " 
 
 " What a question ! " said Evelyn, turning away her head, 
 and forcing a laugh. 
 
 " It is no matter whether you do or not : it is a brilliant
 
 22 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 position. He has rank, reputation, high office ; all he wants 
 is money, and that you will give him. Alas ! I have no pros- 
 pect so bright. I have no fortune, and I fear my face will 
 never buy a title, an opera-box, and a house in Grosvenor 
 Square. I wish I were the future Lady Vargrave." 
 
 "I am sure I wish you were," said Evelyn, with great 
 naivet6 ; "you would suit Lord Vargrave better than I 
 should." 
 
 Caroline laughed. 
 
 "Why do you think so? " 
 
 " Oh, his way of thinking is like yours ; he never says any- 
 thing I can sympathize with." 
 
 " A pretty compliment to me ! Depend upon it, my dear, 
 you will sympathize with me when yoti have seen as much of 
 the world. But Lord Vargrave is he too old?" 
 
 "No, I don't think of his age; and indeed he looks younger 
 than he is." 
 
 "Is he handsome?" 
 
 " He is what may be called handsome, you would think 
 so." 
 
 " Well, if he comes here, I will do my best to win him from 
 you; so look to yourself." 
 
 " Oh, I should be so grateful ; I should like him so much, 
 if he would fall in love with you ! " 
 
 "I fear there is no chance of that." 
 
 "But how," said Evelyn, hesitatingly, after a pause, 
 "how is it that you have seen so much more of the world 
 than I have? I thought Mr. Merton lived a great deal in the 
 country." 
 
 "Yes, but my uncle, Sir John Merton, is member for the 
 county; my grandmother on my father's side Lady Eliza- 
 beth, who has Tregony Castle (which we have just left) for her 
 jointure-house goes to town almost every season, and I have 
 spent three seasons with her. She is a charming old woman, 
 quite the grand dame. I am sorry to say she remains in 
 Cornwall this year. She has not been very well; the physi- 
 cians forbid late hours and London ; but even in the country 
 we are very gay. My uncle lives near us, and though a wid-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 23 
 
 ower, has his house full when down at Merton Park; and 
 Papa, too, is rich, very hospitable and popular, and will, I 
 hope, be a bishop one of these days not at all like a mere 
 country parson; and so, somehow or other, I have learned to 
 be ambitious, we are an ambitious family on Papa's side. 
 But, alas ! I have not your cards to play. Young, beautiful, 
 and an heiress! Ah, what prospects! You should make 
 your mamma take you to town." 
 
 "To town! she would be wretched at the very idea. Oh, 
 you don't know us." 
 
 "I can't help fancying, Miss Evelyn," said Caroline, archly, 
 "that you are not so blind to Lord Vargrave's perfections and 
 so indifferent to London, only from the pretty innocent way 
 of thinking, that so prettily and innocently you express. I 
 dare say, if the truth were known, there is some handsome 
 young rector, besides the old curate, who plays the flute, and 
 preaches sentimental sermons in white kid gloves." 
 
 Evelyn laughed merrily, so merrily that Caroline's sus- 
 picions vanished. They continued to walk and talk thus till 
 the night came on, and then they went in ; and Evelyn showed 
 Caroline her drawings, which astonished that young lady, who 
 was a good judge of accomplishments. Evelyn's performance 
 on the piano astonished her yet more; but Caroline consoled 
 herself on this point, for her voice was more powerful, and 
 she sang French songs with much more spirit. Caroline 
 showed talent in all she undertook; but Evelyn, despite her 
 simplicity, had genius, though as yet scarcely developed, for 
 she had quickness, emotion, susceptibility, imagination. And 
 the difference between talent and genius lies rather in the 
 heart than the head.
 
 24 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DOST thou feel 
 
 The solemn whispering influence of the scene 
 Oppressing thy young heart, that thou dost draw 
 More closely to my side ? F. HE.MAVS : Wood Walk and Hymn. 
 
 CAROLINE and Evelyn, as was natural, became great friends. 
 They were not kindred to each other in disposition ; but they 
 were thrown together, and friendship thus forced upon both. 
 Unsuspecting and sanguine, it was natural to Evelyn to ad- 
 mire; and Caroline was, to her inexperience, a brilliant and 
 imposing novelty. Sometimes Miss Merton's worldliness of 
 thought shocked Evelyn ; but then Caroline had a way with 
 her as if she were not in earnest, as if she were merely 
 indulging an inclination towards irony; nor was she without 
 a certain vein of sentiment that persons a little hackneyed in 
 the world and young ladies a little disappointed that they are 
 not wives instead of maids, easily acquire. Trite as this vein 
 of sentiment was, poor Evelyn thought it beautiful and most 
 feeling. Then, Caroline was clever, entertaining, cordial, 
 with all that superficial superiority that a girl of twenty- 
 three who knows London readily exercises over a country girl 
 of seventeen. On the other hand, Caroline was kind and affec- 
 tionate towards her. The clergyman's daughter felt that she 
 could not be always superior, even in fashion, to the wealthy 
 heiress. 
 
 One evening, as Mrs. Leslie and Mrs. Merton sat under the 
 veranda of the cottage, without their hostess, who had gone 
 alone into the village, and the young ladies were confidentially 
 conversing on the lawn, Mrs. Leslie said rather abruptly, "Is 
 not Evelyn a delightful creature? How unconscious of her 
 beauty ; how simple, and yet so naturally gifted ! " 
 
 "I have never seen one who interested me more," said Mrs. 
 Merton, settling her pelerine ; "she is extremely pretty."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 25 
 
 "I am so anxious about her," resumed Mrs. Leslie, thought- 
 fully. " You know the wish of the late Lord Vargrave that 
 she should marry his nephew, the present lord, when she 
 reaches the age of eighteen. She only wants nine or ten 
 months of that time ; she has seen nothing of the world : she 
 is not fit to decide for herself; and Lady Vargrave, the best of 
 human creatures, is still herself almost too inexperienced in 
 the world to be a guide for one so young placed in such pecul- 
 iar circumstances, and of prospects so brilliant. Lady Var- 
 grave at heart is a child still, and will be so even when as old 
 as I am." 
 
 "It is very true," said Mrs. Merton. "Don't you fear 
 that the girls will catch cold? The dew is falling, and the 
 grass must be wet." 
 
 "I have thought," continued Mrs. Leslie, without heeding 
 the latter part of Mrs. Merton's speech, "that it would be a 
 kind thing to invite Evelyn to stay with you a few months at 
 the Rectory. To be sure, it is not like London; but you see 
 a great deal of the world. The society at your house is well 
 selected, and at times even brilliant; she will meet young 
 people of her own age, and young people fashion and form 
 each other." 
 
 "I was thinking myself that I should like to invite her," 
 said Mrs. Merton; "I will consult Caroline." 
 
 "Caroline, I am sure, would be delighted; the difficulty lies 
 rather in Evelyn herself." 
 
 "You surprise me! she must be moped to death here." 
 
 "But will she leave her mother?" 
 
 "Why, Caroline often leaves me," said Mrs. Merton. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie was silent, and Evelyn and her new friend now 
 joined the mother and daughter. 
 
 " I have been trying to persuade Evelyn to pay us a little 
 visit," said Caroline; "she could accompany us so nicely; and 
 if she is still strange with us, dear grandmamma goes too, 
 I am sure we can make her at home." 
 
 "How odd!" said Mrs. Merton; "we were just saying the 
 same thing. My dear Miss Cameron, we should be so happy 
 to have you."
 
 26 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " And I should be so happy to go, if Mamma would but go 
 too." 
 
 As she spoke, the moon, just risen, showed the form of 
 Lady Vargrave slowly approaching the house. By the light, 
 her features seemed more pale than usual ; and her slight and 
 delicate form, with its gliding motion and noiseless step, had 
 in it something almost ethereal and unearthly. 
 
 Evelyn turned and saw her, and her heart smote her. Her 
 mother, so wedded to the dear cottage and had this gay 
 stranger rendered that dear cottage less attractive, she who 
 had said she could live and die in its humble precincts? 
 Abruptly she left her new friend, hastened to her mother, 
 and threw her arms fondly round her. 
 
 "You are pale; you have over-fatigued yourself. Where 
 have you been? Why did you not take me with you?" 
 
 Lady Vargrave pressed Evelyn's hand affectionately. 
 
 "You care for me too much," said she. "I am but a dull 
 companion for you; I was so glad to see you happy with one 
 better suited to your gay spirits. What can we do when she 
 leaves us?" 
 
 " Ah, I want no companion but my own, own mother. And 
 have I not Sultan, too? " added Evelyn, smiling away the tear 
 that had started to her eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FRIEND after friend departs ; 
 
 Who hath not lost a friend ? 
 There is no union here of hearts 
 
 That finds not here an end. J. MONTGOMERY. 
 
 THAT night Mrs. Leslie sought Lady Vargrave in her own 
 room. As she entered gently she observed that, late as the 
 hour was, Lady Vargrave was stationed by the open window, 
 and seemed intently gazing on the scene below. Mrs. Leslie
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 27 
 
 reached her side unperceived. The moonlight was exceed- 
 ingly bright; and just beyond the garden, from which it was 
 separated but by a slight fence, lay the solitary churchyard 
 of the hamlet, with the slender spire of the holy edifice rising 
 high and tapering into the shining air. It was a calm and 
 tranquillizing scene; and so intent was Lady Vargrave's 
 abstracted gaze, that Mrs. Leslie was unwilling to disturb 
 her revery. 
 
 At length Lady Vargrave turned; and there was that 
 patient and pathetic resignation written in her countenance 
 which belongs to those whom the world can deceive no more, 
 and who have fixed their hearts in the life beyond. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie, whatever she thought or felt, said nothing, 
 except in kindly remonstrance on the indiscretion of braving 
 the night air. The window was closed; they sat down to 
 confer. 
 
 Mrs. Leslie repeated the invitation given to Evelyn, and 
 urged the advisability of accepting it. "It is cruel to sepa- 
 rate you, " said she ; " I feel it acutely. Why not, then, come 
 with Evelyn? You shake your head : why always avoid soci- 
 ety? So young, yet you give yourself too much to the past!" 
 
 Lady Vargrave rose, and walked to a cabinet at the end of 
 the room; she unlocked it, and beckoned to Mrs. Leslie to 
 approach. In a drawer lay carefully folded articles of female 
 dress, rude, homely, ragged, the dress of a peasant girl. 
 
 "Do these remind you of your first charity to me?" she 
 said touchingly: "they tell me that I have nothing to do 
 with the world in which you and yours, and Evelyn herself, 
 should move." 
 
 " Too tender conscience ! your errors were but those of 
 circumstances, of youth; how have they been redeemed! 
 none even suspect them. Your past history is known but to 
 the good old Aubrey and myself. No breath, even of rumour, 
 tarnishes the name of Lady Vargrave." 
 
 "Mrs. Leslie," said Lady Vargrave, reclosing the cabinet, 
 and again seating herself, " my world lies around me ; I can- 
 not quit it. If I were of use to Evelyn, then indeed I would 
 sacrifice, brave all ; but I only cloud her spirits. I have no
 
 28 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 advice to give her, no instruction to bestow. When she was 
 a child I could watch over her; when she was sick, I could 
 nurse her; but now she requires an adviser, a guide; and I 
 feel too sensibly that this task is beyond my powers. I, a 
 guide to youth and innocence, // No, I have nothing to 
 offer her, dear child! but my love and my prayers. Let your 
 daughter take her, then, watch over her, guide, advise her. 
 For me unkind, ungrateful as it may seem were she but 
 happy, I could well bear to be alone ! " 
 
 " But she how will she, who loves you so, submit to this 
 separation?" 
 
 "It will not be long; and," added Lady Vargrave, with a 
 serious, yet sweet smile, " she had better be prepared for that 
 separation which must come at last. As year by year I out- 
 live my last hope, that of once more beholding him, I 
 feel that life becomes feebler and feebler, and I look more on 
 that quiet churchyard as a home to which I am soon return- 
 ing. At all events, Evelyn will be called upon to form new 
 ties that must estrange her from me; let her wean herself 
 from one so useless to her, to all the world, now, and by 
 degrees." 
 
 "Speak not thus," said Mrs. Leslie, strongly affected; "you 
 have many years of happiness yet in store for you. The more 
 you recede from youth, the fairer life will become to you." 
 
 "God is good to me," said the lady, raising her meek eyes; 
 "and I have already found it so. I am contented." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE greater part of them seemed to be charmed with his presence. 
 
 MACKENZIE: The Man of the World. 
 
 IT was with the greatest difficulty that Evelyn could at last 
 be persuaded to consent to the separation from her mother; 
 she wept bitterly at the thought. But Lady Vargrave, though
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 29 
 
 touched, was firm, and her firmness was of that soft, implor- 
 ing character which Evelyn never could resist. The visit 
 was to last some months, it is true, but she would return to 
 the cottage; she would escape, too and this, perhaps, un- 
 consciously reconciled her more than aught else the period- 
 ical visit of Lord Vargrave. At the end of July, when the 
 parliamentary session at that unreformed era usually expired, 
 he always came to Brook-Green for a month. His last visits 
 had been most unwelcome to Evelyn, and this next visit she 
 dreaded more than she had any of the former ones. It is 
 strange, the repugnance with which she regarded the suit 
 of her affianced ! she, whose heart was yet virgin ; who had 
 never seen any one who, in form, manner, and powers to 
 please, could be compared to the gay Lord Vargrave. And 
 yet a sense of honour, of what was due to her dead benefactor, 
 her more than father, all combated that repugnance, and 
 left her uncertain what course to pursue, uncalculating as to 
 the future. In the happy elasticity of her spirits, and with 
 a carelessness almost approaching to levity, which, to say 
 truth, was natural to her, she did not often recall the solemn 
 engagement that must soon be ratified or annulled ; but when 
 that thought did occur, it saddened her for hours, and left her 
 listless and despondent. The visit to Mrs. Merton was, then, 
 finally arranged, the day of departure fixed, when, one morn- 
 ing, came the following letter from Lord Vargrave himself : 
 
 To the LADY VARGRAVE, etc. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, I find that we have a week's holiday in our do^ 
 nothing Chamber, and the weather is so delightful, that I long to share 
 its enjoyment with those I love best. You will, therefore, see me almost 
 as soon as you receive this ; that is, I shall be with you at dinner on the 
 same day. What can I say to Evelyn ? Will you, dearest Lady 
 Vargrave, make her accept all the homage which, when uttered by me, 
 she seems half inclined to reject ? 
 
 In haste, most affectionately yours, 
 
 VARGRAVE. 
 
 HAMILTON PLACE, April 30, 18 . 
 
 This letter was by no means welcome, either to Mrs. Leslie 
 or to Evelyn. The former feared that Lord Vargrave would
 
 30 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 disapprove of a visit, the real objects of which could scarcely 
 be owned to him; the latter was reminded of all she desired 
 to forget. But Lady Vargrave herself rather rejoiced at the 
 thought of Lumley's arrival. Hitherto, in the spirit of her 
 passive and gentle character, she had taken the engagement 
 between Evelyn and Lord Vargrave almost as a matter of 
 course. The will and wish of her late husband operated most 
 powerfully on her mind; and while Evelyn was yet in child- 
 hood, Lumley's visits had ever been acceptable, and the play- 
 ful girl liked the gay and good-humoured lord, who brought 
 her all sorts of presents, and appeared as fond of dogs as her- 
 self. But Evelyn's recent change of manner, her frequent fits 
 of dejection and thought, once pointed out to Lady Vargrave 
 by Mrs. Leslie, aroused all the affectionate and maternal anx- 
 iety of the former. She was resolved to watch, to examine, 
 to scrutinize, not only Evelyn's reception of Vargrave, but, as 
 far as she could, the manner and disposition of Vargrave him- 
 self. She felt how solemn a trust was the happiness of a 
 whole life; and she had that romance of heart, learned from 
 Nature, not in books, which made her believe that there could 
 be no happiness in a marriage without love. 
 
 The whole family party were on the lawn, when, an hour 
 earlier than he was expected, the travelling carriage of Lord 
 Vargrave was whirled along the narrow sweep that conducted 
 from the lodge to the house. Vargrave, as he saw the party, 
 kissed his hand from the window ; and leaping from the car- 
 riage, when it stopped at the porch, hastened to meet his 
 hostess. 
 
 "My dear Lady Vargrave, I am so glad to see you! You 
 are looking charmingly; and Evelyn? oh, there she is; the 
 dear coquette, how lovely she is ! how she has improved ! But 
 who [sinking his voice], who are those ladies? " 
 
 " Guests of ours, Mrs. Leslie, whom you have often heard 
 us speak of, but never met " 
 
 "Yes; and the others?" 
 
 "Her daughter and grandchild." 
 
 " J shall be delighted to know them." 
 
 A more popular manner than Lord Vargrave's it is impos-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 31 
 
 sible to conceive. Frank and prepossessing, even when the 
 poor and reckless Mr. Ferrers, without rank or reputation, his 
 smile, the tone of his voice, his familiar courtesy, appar- 
 ently so inartificial and approaching almost to a boyish 
 bluntness of good-humour, were irresistible in the rising 
 statesman and favoured courtier. 
 
 Mrs. Merton was enchanted with him; Caroline thought 
 him, at the first glance, the most fascinating person she had 
 ever seen; even Mrs. Leslie, more grave, cautious, and pene- 
 trating, was almost equally pleased with the first impression; 
 and it was not till, in his occasional silence, his features set- 
 tled into their natural expression that she fancied she detected 
 in the quick suspicious eye and the close compression of the 
 lips the tokens of that wily, astute, and worldly character, 
 which, in proportion as he had risen in his career, even his 
 own party reluctantly and mysteriously assigned to one of 
 their most prominent leaders. 
 
 When Vargrave took Evelyn's hand, and raised it with 
 meaning gallantry to his lips, the girl first blushed deeply, 
 and then turned pale as death; nor did the colour thus chased 
 away soon return to the transparent cheek. Not noticing 
 signs which might bear a twofold interpretation, Lumley, 
 who seemed in high spirits, rattled away on a thousand mat- 
 ters, praising the view, the weather, the journey, throwing 
 out a joke here and a compliment there, and completing his 
 conquest over Mrs. Merton and Caroline. 
 
 "You have left London in the very height of its gayety, 
 Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, as they sat conversing after 
 dinner. 
 
 " True, Miss Merton ; but the country is in the height of its 
 gayety too." 
 
 "Are you so fond of the country, then? " 
 
 " By fits and starts ; my passion for it comes in with the 
 early strawberries, and goes out with the hautboys. I lead so 
 artificial a life ; but then I hope it is a useful one. I want 
 nothing but a home to make it a happy one." 
 
 "What is the latest news? dear London! I am so sorry 
 Grandmamma, Lady Elizabeth, is not going there this year,
 
 32 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 so I am compelled to rusticate. Is Lady Jane D to be 
 
 married at last?" 
 
 "Commend me to a young lady's idea of news, always 
 
 marriage! Lady Jane D ! yes, she is to be married, as 
 
 you say at last ! While she was a beauty, our cold sex was 
 shy of her ; but she has now faded into plainness, the proper 
 colour for a wife." 
 
 " Complimentary ! " 
 
 " Indeed it is for you beautiful women we love too much 
 for our own happiness heigho! and a prudent marriage 
 means friendly indifference, not rapture and despair. But 
 give me beauty and love ; I never was prudent : it is not my 
 weakness." 
 
 Though Caroline was his sole supporter in this dialogue, 
 Lord Vargrave's eyes attempted to converse with Evelyn, who 
 was unusually silent and abstracted. t Suddenly Lord Vargrave 
 seemed aware that he was scarcely general enough in his talk 
 for his hearers. He addressed himself to Mrs. Leslie, and 
 glided back, as it were, into a former generation. He spoke 
 of persons gone and things forgotten; he made the subject 
 interesting even to the young, by a succession of various and 
 sparkling anecdotes. No one could be more agreeable; even 
 Evelyn now listened to him with pleasure, for to all women 
 wit and intellect have their charm. But still there was a cold 
 and sharp levity in the tone of the man of the world that pre- 
 vented the charm sinking below the surface. To Mrs. Leslie 
 he seemed unconsciously to betray a laxity of principle; to 
 Evelyn, a want of sentiment and heart. Lady Vargrave, who 
 did not understand a character of this description, listened 
 attentively, and said to herself, "Evelyn may admire, but I 
 fear she cannot love him." Still, time passed quickly in 
 Lumley's presence, and Caroline thought she had never spent 
 so pleasant an evening. 
 
 When Lord Vargrave retired to his room, he threw himself 
 in his chair, and yawned with exceeding fervour. His ser- 
 vant arranged his dressing-robe, and placed his portfolios and 
 letter-boxes on the table. 
 
 "What o'clock is it?" said Lumley.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 33 
 
 "Very early, my lord; only eleven." 
 
 "The devil! The country air is wonderfully exhausting. 
 I am very sleepy; you may go." 
 
 "This little girl," said Lumley, stretching himself, "is 
 preternaturally shy. I must neglect her no longer yet it 
 is surely all safe? She has grown monstrous pretty; but the 
 other girl is more amusing, more to my taste, and a much 
 easier conquest, I fancy. Her great dark eyes seem full of 
 admiration for my lordship. Sensible young woman ! she may 
 be useful in piquing Evelyn." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Julio. Wilt thou have him 1 The Maid in the Mill. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE heard the next morning, with secret dis- 
 taste and displeasure, of Evelyn's intended visit to the Mer- 
 tons. He could scarcely make any open objection to it ; but he 
 did not refrain from many insinuations as to its impropriety. 
 
 "My dear friend," said he to Lady Vargrave, "it is scarcely 
 right in you (pardon me for saying it) to commit Evelyn to 
 the care of comparative strangers. Mrs. Leslie, indeed, you 
 know; but Mrs. Merton, you allow, you have now seen for the 
 first time. A most respectable person doubtless; but still, 
 recollect how young Evelyn is, how rich ; what a prize to any 
 younger sons in the Merton family (if such there be). Miss 
 Merton herself is a shrewd, worldly girl ; and if she were of 
 our sex would make a capital fortune-hunter. Don't think 
 my fear is selfish; I do not speak for myself. If I were 
 Evelyn's brother, I should be yet more earnest in my 
 remonstrance." 
 
 "But, Lord Vargrave, poor Evelyn is dull here; my spirits 
 infect hers. She ought to mix more with those of her own 
 age, to see more of the world before before " 
 
 "Before her marriage with me? Forgive me, but is not 
 
 3
 
 34 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 that my affair? If I am contented, nay, charmed with her 
 innocence, if I prefer it to all the arts which society could 
 teach her, surely you would be acquitted for leaving her in 
 the beautiful simplicity that makes her chief fascination? 
 She will see enough of the world as Lady Vargrave." 
 
 " But if she should resolve never to be Lady Vargrave ? " 
 
 Lumley started, bit his lip, and frowned. Lady Vargrave 
 had never before seen on his countenance the dark expression 
 it now wore. He recollected and recovered himself, as he 
 observed her eye fixed upon him, and said, with a constrained 
 smile, 
 
 " Can you anticipate an event so fatal to my happiness, so 
 unforeseen, so opposed to all my poor uncle's wishes, as Eve- 
 lyn's rejection of a suit pursued for years, and so solemnly 
 sanctioned in her very childhood? " 
 
 " She must decide for herself," said Lady Vargrave. " Your 
 uncle carefully distinguished between a wish and a command. 
 Her heart is as yet untouched. If she can love you, may you 
 deserve her affection." 
 
 " It shall be my study to do so. But why this departure 
 from your roof just when we ought to see most of each other? 
 It cannot be that you would separate us? " 
 
 " I fear, Lord Vargrave, that if Evelyn were to remain here, 
 she would decide against you. I fear if you press her now, 
 such now may be her premature decision. Perhaps this arises 
 from too fond an attachment for her home; perhaps even a 
 short absence from her home from me may more reconcile 
 her to a permanent separation. " 
 
 Vargrave could say no more, for here they were joined by 
 Caroline and Mrs. Merton; but his manner was changed, nor 
 could he recover the gayety of the previous night. 
 
 When, however, he found time for meditation, he contrived 
 to reconcile himself to the intended visit. He felt that it was 
 easy to secure the friendship of the whole of the Merton 
 family; and that friendship might be more useful to him 
 than the neutral part adopted by Lady Vargrave. He should, 
 of course, be invited to the rectory; it was much nearer Lon- 
 don than Lady Vargrave's cottage, he could more often escape
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 35 
 
 from public cares to superintend his private interest. A coun- 
 try neighbourhood, particularly at that season of the year, was 
 not likely to abound in very dangerous rivals. Evelyn would, 
 he saw, be surrounded by a worldly family, and he thought 
 that an advantage; it might serve to dissipate Evelyn's 
 romantic tendencies, and make her sensible of the pleasures 
 of the London life, the official rank, the gay society that her 
 union with him would offer as an equivalent for her fortune. 
 In short, as was his wont, he strove to make the best of the 
 new turn affairs had taken. Though guardian to Miss Came- 
 ron, and one of the trustees for the fortune she was to receive 
 on attaining her majority, he had not the right to dictate as to 
 her residence. The late lord's will had expressly and point- 
 edly corroborated the natural and lawful authority of Lady 
 Vargrave in all matters connected with Evelyn's education 
 and home. It may be as well, in this place, to add, that to 
 Vargrave and the co-trustee, Mr. Gustavus Douce, a banker 
 of repute and eminence, the testator left large discretionary 
 powers as to the investment of the fortune. He had stated it 
 as his wish that from one hundred and twenty to one hundred 
 and thirty thousand pounds should be invested in the pur- 
 chase of a landed estate ; but he had left it to the discretion 
 of the trustees to increase that sum, even to the amount of the 
 whole capital, should an estate of adequate importance be in 
 the market, while the selection of time and purchase was un- 
 reservedly confided to the trustees. Vargrave had hitherto 
 objected to every purchase in the market, not that he was 
 insensible to the importance and consideration of landed prop- 
 erty, but because, till he himself became the legal receiver of 
 the income, he thought it less trouble to suffer the money to 
 lie in the Funds, than to be pestered with all the onerous 
 details in the management of an estate that might never be 
 his. He, however, with no less ardour than his deceased rela- 
 tive, looked forward to the time when the title of Vargrave 
 should be based upon the venerable foundation of feudal 
 manors and seignorial acres. 
 
 "Why did you not tell me Lord Vargrave was so charm- 
 ing?" said Caroline to Evelyn, as the two girls were saunter-
 
 36 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ing, in familiar tete-a-tete, along the gardens. " You will be 
 very happy with such a companion." 
 
 Evelyn made no answer for a few moments, and then, 
 turning abruptly round to Caroline, and stopping short, she 
 said, with a kind of tearful eagerness, "Dear Caroline, you 
 are so wise, so kind too; advise me, tell me what is best. I 
 am very unhappy." 
 
 Miss Merton was moved and surprised by Evelyn's 
 earnestness. 
 
 "But what is it, my poor Evelyn," said she; "why are you 
 unhappy? you whose fate seems to me so enviable." 
 
 "I cannot love Lord Vargrave; I recoil from the idea of 
 marrying him. Ought I not fairly to tell him so? Ought I 
 not to say that I cannot fulfil the wish that oh, there 's the 
 thought which leaves me so irresolute! His uncle be- 
 queathed to me me who have no claim of relationship 
 the fortune that should have been Lord Vargrave 's, in the 
 belief that my hand would restore it to him. It is almost a 
 fraud to refuse him. Am I not to be pitied? " 
 
 "But why can you not love Lord Vargrave? If past the 
 premiere jeunesse, he is still handsome. He is more than 
 handsome, he has the air of rank, an eye that fascinates, a 
 smile that wins, the manners that please, the abilities that 
 command, the world! Handsome, clever, admired, distin- 
 guished what can woman desire more in her lover, her hus- 
 band ? Have you ever formed some fancy, some ideal of the 
 one you could love, and how does Lord Vargrave fall short of 
 the vision?" 
 
 "Have I ever formed an ideal? oh, yes!" said Evelyn, 
 with a beautiful enthusiasm that lighted up her eyes, blushed 
 in her cheek, and heaved her bosom beneath its robe; "some- 
 thing that in loving I could also revere, a mind that would 
 elevate my own; a heart that could sympathize with my weak- 
 ness, my follies, my romance, if you will; and in which I 
 could treasure my whole soul." 
 
 "You paint a schoolmaster, not a lover!" said Caroline. 
 "You do not care, then, whether this hero be handsome or 
 young? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 37 
 
 "Oh, yes, he should be both," said Evelyn, innocently; 
 "and yet," she added, after a pause, and with an infantine 
 playfulness of manner and countenance, "I know you will 
 laugh at me, but I think I could be in love with more than 
 one at the same time ! " 
 
 "A common case, but a rare confession! " 
 
 " Yes ; for if I might ask for the youth and outward advan- 
 tages that please the eye, I could also love with a yet deeper 
 love that which would speak to my imagination, Intellect, 
 Genius, Fame! Ah, these have an immortal youth and imper- 
 ishable beauty of their own! " 
 
 " You are a very strange girl." 
 
 " But we are on a very strange subject it is all an 
 enigma!" said Evelyn, shaking her wise little head with a 
 pretty gravity, half mock, half real. " Ah, if Lord Vargrave 
 should love you and you oh, you would love him, and 
 then I should be free, and so happy ! " 
 
 They were then on the lawn in sight of the cottage win- 
 dows, and Lumley, lifting his eyes from the newspaper, which 
 had just arrived and been seized with all a politician's avidity, 
 saw them in the distance. He threw down the paper, mused 
 a moment or two, then took up his hat and joined them; but 
 before he did so, he surveyed himself in the glass. " I think 
 I look young enough still," thought he. 
 
 "Two cherries on one stalk," said Lumley, gayly: "by the 
 by, it is not a complimentary simile. What young lady would 
 be like a cherry? such an uninteresting, common, charity- 
 boy sort of fruit. For my part, I always associate cherries 
 with the image of a young gentleman in corduroys and a 
 skeleton jacket, with one pocket full of marbles, and the 
 other full of worms for fishing, with three-halfpence in the 
 left paw, and two cherries on one stalk (Helena and Hermia) 
 in the right." 
 
 " How droll you are ! " said Caroline, laughing. 
 
 "Much obliged to you, and don't envy your discrimination, 
 ' Melancholy marks me for its own. ' You ladies, ah, yours 
 is the life for gay spirits and light hearts ; to us are left busi- 
 ness and politics, law, physic, and murder, by way of pro-
 
 38 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 fessions ; abuse, nicknamed fame ; and the privilege of seeing 
 how universal a thing, among the great and the wealthy, is 
 that pleasant vice, beggary, which privilege is proudly 
 entitled ' patronage and power. ' Are we the things to be 
 gay, ' droll,' as you say? Oh, no, all our spirits are forced, 
 believe me. Miss Cameron, did you ever know that wretched 
 species of hysterical affection called ' forced spirits ' ? Never, 
 I am sure; your ingenuous smile, your laughing eyes, are the 
 index to a happy and a sanguine heart." 
 
 "And what of me?" asked Caroline, quickly, and with a 
 slight blush. 
 
 "You, Miss Merton? Ah, I have not yet read your char- 
 acter, a fair page, but an unknown letter. You, however, 
 have seen the world, and know that we must occasionally 
 wear a mask." Lord Vargrave sighed as he spoke, and 
 relapsed into sudden silence; then looking up, his eyes en- 
 countered Caroline's, which were fixed upon him. Their gaze 
 flattered him ; Caroline turned away, and busied herself with 
 a rose-bush. Lumley gathered one of the flowers, and pre- 
 sented it to her. Evelyn was a few steps in advance. 
 
 "There is no thorn in this rose," said he; "may the offering 
 be an omen. You are now Evelyn's friend, oh, be mine ; she 
 is to be your guest. Do not scorn to plead for me." 
 
 "Can you want a pleader?" said Caroline, with a slight 
 tremor in her voice. 
 
 "Charming Miss Merton, love is diffident and fearful; but 
 it must now find a voice, to which may Evelyn benignly listen. 
 What I leave unsaid would that my new friend's eloquence 
 could supply." 
 
 He bowed slightly, and joined Evelyn. Caroline under- 
 stood the hint, and returned alone and thoughtfully to the 
 house. 
 
 "Miss Cameron Evelyn ah, still let me call you so, 
 as in the happy and more familiar days of your child- 
 hood, I wish you could read my heart at this moment. 
 You are about to leave your home; new scenes will sur- 
 round, new faces smile on you; dare I hope that I may still 
 be remembered?"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 39 
 
 He attempted to take her hand as he spoke ; Evelyn with- 
 drew it gently. 
 
 "Ah, my lord," said she, in a very low voice, "if remem- 
 brance were all that you asked of me " 
 
 " It is all, favourable remembrance, remembrance of the 
 love of the past, remembrance of the bond to come." 
 
 Evelyn shivered. "It is better to speak openly," said she. 
 " Let me throw myself on your generosity. I am not insensi- 
 ble to your brilliant qualities, to the honour of your attach- 
 ment ; but but as the time approaches in which you will 
 call for my decision, let me now say, that I cannot feel for 
 you those those sentiments, without which you could not 
 desire our union, without which it were but a wrong to both 
 of us to form it. Nay, listen to me. I grieve bitterly at the 
 tenor of your too generous uncle's will; can I not atone to 
 you? Willingly would I sacrifice the fortune that, indeed, 
 ought to be yours; accept it, and remain my friend." 
 
 " Cruel Evelyn ! and can you suppose that it is your fortune 
 I seek? It is yourself. Heaven is my witness, that, had you 
 no dowry but your hand and heart, it were treasure enough 
 to me. You think you cannot love me. Evelyn, you do not 
 yet know yourself. Alas ! your retirement in this distant vil- 
 lage, my own unceasing avocations, which chain me, like a 
 slave, to the galley-oar of politics and power, have kept us 
 separate. You do not know me. I am willing to hazard the 
 experiment of that knowledge. To devote my life to you, to 
 make you partaker of my ambition, my career, to raise you 
 to the highest eminence in the matronage of England, to 
 transfer pride from myself to you, to love and to honour and 
 to prize you, all this will be my boast; and all this will win 
 love for me at last. Fear not, Evelyn, fear not for your 
 happiness ; with me you shall know no sorrow. Affection at 
 home, splendour abroad, await you. I have passed the rough 
 and arduous part of my career; sunshine lies on the summit 
 to which I climb. No station in England is too high for me 
 to aspire to, prospects, how bright with you, how dark 
 without you! Ah, Evelyn! be this hand mine the heart 
 shall follow!"
 
 40 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Vargrave's words were artful and eloquent; the words were 
 calculated to win their way, but the manner, the tone of voice, 
 wanted earnestness and truth. This was his defect ; this char- 
 acterized all his attempts to seduce or to lead others, in pub- 
 lic or in private life. He had no heart, no deep passion, in 
 what he undertook. He could impress you with the convic- 
 tion of his ability, and leave the conviction imperfect, because 
 he could not convince you that he was sincere. That best gift 
 of mental power earnestness was wanting to him; and 
 Lord Vargrave's deficiency of heart was the true cause why 
 he was not a great man. Still, Evelyn was affected by his 
 words ; she suffered the hand he now once more took to remain 
 passively in his, and said timidly, " Why, with sentiments so 
 generous and confiding, why do you love me, who cannot 
 return your affection worthily? No, Lord Vargrave; there 
 are many who must see you with juster eyes than mine, 
 many fairer, and even wealthier. Indeed, indeed, it cannot 
 be. Do not be offended, but think that the fortune left to me 
 was on one condition I cannot, ought not to fulfil. Failing 
 that condition, in equity and honour it reverts to you." 
 
 " Talk not thus, I implore you, Evelyn ; do not imagine me 
 the worldly calculator that my enemies deem me. But, to 
 remove at once from your mind the possibility of such a com- 
 promise between your honour and repugnance repugnance ! 
 have I lived to say that word? know that your fortune is 
 not at your own disposal. Save the small forfeit that awaits 
 your non-compliance with my uncle's dying prayer, the whole 
 is settled peremptorily on yourself and your children; it is 
 entailed, you cannot alienate it. Thus, then, your gener- 
 osity can never be evinced but to him on whom you bestow 
 your hand. Ah, let me recall that melancholy scene. Your 
 benefactor on his death-bed, your mother kneeling by his side, 
 your hand clasped in mine, and those lips, with their latest 
 breath, uttering at once a blessing and a command." 
 
 "Ah, cease, cease, my lord!" said Evelyn, sobbing. 
 
 "No; bid me not cease before you tell me you will be 
 mine. Beloved Evelyn, I may hope, you will not resolve 
 against me? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 41 
 
 "No," said Evelyn, raising her eyes and struggling for 
 composure ; " I feel too well what should be my duty ; I will 
 endeavor to perform it. Ask me no more now. I will strug- 
 gle to answer you as you wish hereafter." 
 
 Lord Vargrave, resolved to push to the utmost the advan- 
 tage he had gained, was about to reply when he heard a step 
 behind him; and turning round, quickly and discomposed, 
 beheld a venerable form approaching them. The occasion 
 was lost: Evelyn also turned; and seeing who was the 
 intruder, sprang towards him almost with a cry of joy. 
 
 The new comer was a man who had passed his seventieth 
 year; but his old age was green, his step light, and on his 
 healthful and benignant countenance time had left but few 
 furrows. He was clothed in black; and his locks, which 
 were white as snow, escaped from the broad hat, and almost 
 touched his shoulders. 
 
 The old man smiled upon Evelyn, and kissed her forehead 
 fondly. He then turned to Lord Vargrave, who, recovering 
 his customary self-possession, advanced to meet him with 
 extended hand. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Aubrey, this is a welcome surprise. I heard 
 you were not at the vicarage, or I would have called on you." 
 
 "Your lordship honours me," replied the curate. "For the 
 first time for thirty years I have been thus long absent from 
 my cure; but I am now returned, I hope, to end my days 
 among my flock." 
 
 " And what," asked Vargrave, " what if the question be 
 not presumptuous occasioned your unwilling absence?" 
 
 "My lord," replied the old man, with a gentle smile, "a 
 new vicar has been appointed. I went to him, to proffer an 
 humble prayer that I might remain amongst those whom I 
 regarded as my children. I have buried one generation, 
 I have married another, I have baptized a third." 
 
 "You should have had the vicarage itself; you should be 
 better provided for, my dear Mr. Aubrey ; I will speak to the 
 Lord Chancellor." 
 
 Five times before had Lord Vargrave uttered the same 
 promise, and the curate smiled to hear the familiar words.
 
 42 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "The vicarage, my lord, is a family living, and is now 
 vested in a young man who requires wealth more than I do. 
 He has been kind to me, and re-established me among my 
 flock; I would not leave them for a bishopric. My child," 
 continued the curate, addressing Evelyn with great affection, 
 "you are surely unwell, you are paler than when I left 
 you." 
 
 Evelyn clung fondly to his arm, and smiled her old gay 
 smile as she replied to him. They took the way towards 
 the house. 
 
 The curate remained with them for an hour. There was a 
 mingled sweetness and dignity in his manner which had in it 
 something of the primitive character we poetically ascribe to 
 the pastors of the Church. Lady Vargrave seemed to vie with 
 Evelyn which should love him the most. When he retired to 
 his home, which was not many yards distant from the cottage, 
 Evelyn, pleading a headache, sought her chamber, and Lum- 
 ley, to soothe his mortification, turned to Caroline, who had 
 seated herself by his side. Her conversation amused him, 
 and her evident admiration flattered. While Lady Vargrave 
 absented herself, in motherly anxiety, to attend on Evelyn, 
 while Mrs. Leslie was occupied at her frame, and Mrs. Merton 
 looked on, and talked indolently to the old lady of rheumatism 
 and sermons, of children's complaints and servants' misde- 
 meanours, the conversation between Lord Vargrave and 
 Caroline, at first gay and animated, grew gradually more sen- 
 timental and subdued; their voices took a lower tone, and 
 Caroline sometimes turned away her head and blushed.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 43 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THERE stands the Messenger of Truth there stands 
 The Legate of the skies. COWPER. 
 
 FROM that night Lumley found no opportunity for private 
 conversation with Evelyn; she evidently shunned to meet 
 with him alone. She was ever with her mother or Mrs. 
 Leslie or the good curate, who spent much of his time at the 
 cottage; for the old man had neither wife nor children, he 
 was alone at home, he had learned to make his home with the 
 widow and her daughter. With them he was an object of the 
 tenderest affection, of the deepest veneration. Their love 
 delighted him, and he returned it with the fondness of a par- 
 ent and the benevolence of a pastor. He was a rare character, 
 that village priest ! 
 
 Born of humble parentage, Edward Aubrey had early dis- 
 played abilities which attracted the notice of a wealthy pro- 
 prietor, who was not displeased to affect the patron. Young 
 Aubrey was sent to school, and thence to college as a sizar : 
 he obtained several prizes, and took a high degree. Aubrey 
 was not without the ambition and the passions of youth : he 
 went into the world, ardent, inexperienced, and without a 
 guide. He drew back before errors grew into crimes, or folly 
 became a habit. It was nature and affection that reclaimed 
 and saved him from either alternative, fame or ruin. His 
 widowed mother was suddenly stricken with disease. Blind 
 and bedridden, her whole dependence was on her only son. 
 This affliction called forth a new character in Edward Aubrey. 
 This mother had stripped herself of so many comforts to pro- 
 vide for him, he devoted his youth to her in return. She 
 was now old and imbecile. With the mingled selfishness and 
 sentiment of age, she would not come to London, she would 
 not move from the village where her husband lay buried, 
 where her youth had been spent. In this village the able
 
 44 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and ambitious young man buried his hopes and his talents; 
 by degrees the quiet and tranquillity of the country life be- 
 came dear to him. As steps in a ladder, so piety leads to 
 piety, and religion grew to him a habit. He took orders and 
 entered the Church. A disappointment in love ensued; it left 
 on his mind and heart a sober and resigned melancholy, which 
 at length mellowed into content. His profession and its sweet 
 duties became more and more dear to him; in the hopes of 
 the next world he forgot the ambition of the present. He did 
 not seek to shine, 
 
 " More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise." 
 
 His own birth made the poor his brothers, and their dispo- 
 sitions and wants familiar to him. His own early errors 
 made him tolerant to the faults of others, few men are 
 charitable who remember not that they have sinned. In our 
 faults lie the germs of virtues. Thus gradually and serenely 
 had worn away his life obscure but useful, calm but active, 
 a man whom " the great prizes " of the Church might have 
 rendered an ambitious schemer, to whom a modest confidence 
 gave the true pastoral power, to conquer the world within 
 himself, and to sympathize with the wants of others. Yes, 
 he was a rare character, that village priest! 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 TOUT notre raisonnement se reduit a ceder au sentiment. 1 PASCAL. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE, who had no desire to remain alone with 
 the widow when the guests were gone, arranged his departure 
 for the same day as that fixed for Mrs. Merton's; and as their 
 road lay together for several miles, it was settled that they 
 
 should all dine at , whence Lord Vargrave would proceed 
 
 to London. Failing to procure a second chance-interview with 
 
 1 " All our reasoning reduces itself to yielding to sentiment."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 45 
 
 Evelyn, and afraid to demand a formal one for he felt the 
 insecurity of the ground he stood on Lord Vargrave, irri- 
 tated and somewhat mortified, sought, as was his habit, what- 
 ever amusement was in his reach. In the conversation of 
 Caroline Merton shrewd, worldly, and ambitious he 
 found' the sort of plaything that he desired. They were 
 thrown much together; but to Vargrave, at least, there ap- 
 peared no danger in the intercourse; and perhaps his chief 
 object was to pique Evelyn, as well as to gratify his own 
 spleen. 
 
 It was the evening before Evelyn's departure; the little 
 party had been for the last hour dispersed; Mrs. Merton was 
 in her own room, making to herself gratuitous and unneces- 
 sary occupation in seeing her woman pack up. It was just 
 the kind of task that delighted her. To sit in a large chair 
 and see somebody else at work to say languidly, "Don't 
 crumple that scarf, Jane ; and where shall we put Miss Caro- 
 line's blue bonnet? " gave her a very comfortable notion of 
 her own importance and habits of business, a sort of title to 
 be the superintendent of a family and the wife of a rector. 
 Caroline had disappeared, so had Lord Vargrave ; but the first 
 was supposed to be with Evelyn, the second, employed in 
 writing letters, at least, it was so when they had been last 
 observed. Mrs. Leslie was alone in the drawing-room, and 
 absorbed in anxious and benevolent thoughts on the critical 
 situation of her young favourite, about to enter an age and a 
 world the perils of which Mrs. Leslie had not forgotten. 
 
 It was at this time that Evelyn, forgetful of Lord Vargrave 
 and his suit, of every one, of everything but the grief of the 
 approaching departure, found herself alone in a little arbour 
 that had been built upon the cliff to command the view of the 
 sea below. That day she had been restless, perturbed; she 
 had visited every spot consecrated by youthful recollections ; 
 she had clung with fond regret to every place in which she 
 had held sweet converse with her mother. Of a disposition 
 singularly warm and affectionate, she had often, in her secret 
 heart, pined for a more yearning and enthusiastic love than it 
 seemed in the subdued nature of Lady Vargrave to bestow.
 
 46 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 In the affection of the latter, gentle and never fluctuating as 
 it was, there seemed to her a something wanting, which she 
 could not define. She had watched that beloved face all the 
 morning. She had hoped to see the tender eyes fixed upon 
 her, and hear the meek voice exclaim, " I cannot part with my 
 child ! " All the gay pictures which the light-hearted Caro- 
 line drew of the scenes she was to enter had vanished away 
 now that the hour approached when her mother was to be 
 left alone. Why was she to go? It seemed to her an unne- 
 cessary cruelty. 
 
 As she thus sat, she did not observe that Mr. Aubrey, who 
 had seen her at a distance, was now bending his way to her ; 
 and not till he had entered the arbour, and taken her hand, 
 did she waken from those reveries in which youth, the 
 Dreamer and the Desirer, so morbidly indulges. 
 
 " Tears, my child? " said the curate. " Nay, be not ashamed 
 of them ; they become you in this hour. How we shall miss 
 you! and you, too, will not forget us?" 
 
 "Forget you! Ah, no, indeed! But why should I leave 
 you? Why will you not speak to my mother, implore her to 
 let me remain? We were so happy till these strangers came. 
 We did not think there was any other world, here there is 
 world enough for me ! " 
 
 "My poor Evelyn," said Mr. Aubrey, gently, "I have 
 spoken to your mother and to Mrs. Leslie; they have con- 
 fided to me all the reasons for your departure, and I cannot 
 but subscribe to their justice. You do not want many months 
 of the age when you will be called upon to decide whether 
 Lord Vargrave shall be your husband. Your mother shrinks 
 from the responsibility of influencing your decision; and here, 
 my child, inexperienced, and having seen so little of others, 
 how can you know your own heart? " 
 
 " But, oh, Mr. Aubrey, " said Evelyn, with an earnestness 
 that overcame embarrassment, "have I a choice left tome? 
 Can I be ungrateful, disobedient to him who was a father to 
 me? Ought I not to sacrifice my own happiness? And how 
 willingly would I do so, if my mother would smile on me 
 approvingly ! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 47 
 
 " My child, " said the curate, gravely, " an old man is a bad 
 judge of the affairs of youth ; yet in this matter, I think your 
 duty plain. Do not resolutely set yourself against Lord Var- 
 grave's claim; do not persuade yourself that you must be 
 unhappy in a union with him. Compose your mind, think 
 seriously upon the choice before you, refuse all decision at 
 the present moment; wait until the appointed time arrives, 
 or, at least, more nearly approaches. Meanwhile, I under- 
 stand that Lord Vargrave is to be a frequent visitor at Mrs. 
 Merton's; there you will see him with others, his character 
 will show itself. Study his principles, his disposition ; exam- 
 ine whether he is one whom you can esteem and render happy : 
 there may be a love without enthusiasm, and yet sufficient for 
 domestic felicity, and for the employment of the affections. 
 You will insensibly, too, learn from other parts of his charac- 
 ter which he does not exhibit to us. If the result of time and 
 examination be that you can cheerfully obey the late lord's 
 dying wish, unquestionably it will be the happier decision. 
 If not, if you still shrink from vows at which your heart now 
 rebels, as unquestionably you may, with an acquitted con- 
 science, become free. The best of us are imperfect judges of 
 the happiness of others. In the woe or weal of a whole life, 
 we must decide for ourselves. Your benefactor could not 
 mean you to be wretched ; and if he now, with eyes purified 
 from all worldly mists, look down upon you, his spirit will 
 approve your choice ; for when we quit the world, all worldly 
 ambition dies with us. What now to the immortal soul can 
 be the title and the rank which on earth, with the desires of 
 earth, your benefactor hoped to secure to his adopted child? 
 This is my advice. Look on the bright side of things, and 
 wait calmly for the hour when Lord Vargrave can demand 
 your decision." 
 
 The words of the priest, which well defined her duty, inex- 
 pressibly soothed and comforted Evelyn; and the advice upon 
 other and higher matters, which the good man pressed upon a 
 mind so softened at that hour to receive religious impressions, 
 was received with gratitude and respect. Subsequently their 
 conversation fell upon Lady Vargrave, a theme dear to both
 
 48 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 of them. The old man was greatly touched by the poor girl's 
 unselfish anxiety for her mother's comfort, by her fears that 
 she might be missed, in those little attentions which filial love 
 alone can render; he was almost yet more touched when, with 
 a less disinterested feeling, Evelyn added mournfully, 
 
 "Yet why, after all, should I fancy she will so miss me? 
 Ah, though I will not dare complain of it, I feel still that she 
 does not love me as I love her." 
 
 " Evelyn, " said the curate, with mild reproach, " have I not 
 said that your mother has known sorrow? And though sor- 
 row does not annihilate affection, it subdues its expression, 
 and moderates its outward signs." 
 
 Evelyn sighed, and said no more. 
 
 As the good old man and his young friend returned to the 
 cottage, Lord Vargrave and Caroline approached them, emerg- 
 ing from an opposite part of the grounds. The former has- 
 tened to Evelyn with his usual gayety and frank address ; and 
 there was so much charm in the manner of a man, whom 
 apparently the world and its cares had never rendered artifi- 
 cial or reserved, that the curate himself was impressed by it. 
 He thought that Evelyn might be happy with one amiable 
 enough for a companion and wise enough for a guide. But 
 old as he was, he had loved, and he knew that there are 
 instincts in the heart which defy all our calculations. 
 
 While Lumley was conversing, the little gate that made the 
 communication between the gardens and the neighbouring 
 churchyard, through which was the nearest access to the vil- 
 lage, creaked on its hinges, and the quiet and solitary figure 
 of Lady Vargrave threw its shadow over the grass.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 49 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AND I can listen to thee yet, 
 
 Can lie upon the plain ; 
 And listen till I do beget 
 
 That golden time again. WORDSWORTH. 
 
 IT was past midnight hostess and guests had retired to 
 repose when Lady Vargrave's door opened gently. The 
 lady herself was kneeling at the foot of the bed; the moon- 
 light came through the half -drawn curtains of the casement, 
 and by its ray her pale, calm features looked paler, and yet 
 more hushed. 
 
 Evelyn, for she was the intruder, paused at the threshold 
 till her mother rose from her devotions, and then she threw 
 herself on Lady Vargrave's breast, sobbing as if her heart 
 would break. Hers were the wild, generous, irresistible emo- 
 tions of youth. Lady Vargrave, perhaps, had known them 
 once; at least, she could sympathize with them now. 
 
 She strained her child to her bosom ; she stroked back her 
 hair, and kissed her fondly, and spoke to her soothingly. 
 
 " Mother, " sobbed Evelyn, " I could not sleep, I could not 
 rest. Bless me again, kiss me again; tell me that you love 
 me you cannot love me as I do you ; but tell me that 1 am 
 dear to you ; tell me you will regret me, but not too much ; 
 tell me " Here Evelyn paused, and could say no more. 
 
 " My best, my kindest Evelyn, " said Lady Vargrave, " there 
 is nothing on earth I love like you. Do not fancy I am 
 ungrateful." 
 
 "Why do you say ungrateful? your own child, your 
 only child ! " And Evelyn covered her mother's face and 
 hands with passionate tears and kisses. 
 
 At that moment, certain it is that Lady Vargrave's heart 
 reproached her with not having, indeed, loved this sweet girl 
 as she deserved. True, no mother was more mild, more atten- 
 
 4
 
 50 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 tive, more fostering, more anxious for a daughter's welfare; 
 but Evelyn was right. The gushing fondness, the mysterious 
 entering into every subtle thought and feeling, which should 
 have characterized the love of such a mother to such a child, 
 had been to outward appearance wanting. Even in this pres- 
 ent parting there had been a prudence, an exercise of reason- 
 ing, that savoured more of duty than love. Lady Vargrave 
 felt all this with remorse; she gave way to emotions new to 
 her, at least to exhibit; she wept with Evelyn, and re- 
 turned her caresses with almost equal fervour. Perhaps, too, 
 she thought at that moment of what love that warm nature 
 was susceptible; and she trembled for her future fate. It 
 was as a full reconciliation that mournful hour between 
 feelings on either side, which something mysterious seemed 
 to have checked before ; and that last night the mother and 
 the child did not separate, the same couch contained them : 
 and when, worn out with some emotions which she could not 
 reveal, Lady Vargrave fell into the sleep of exhaustion, Eve- 
 lyn's arm was round her, and Evelyn's eyes watched her with 
 pious and anxious love as the gray morning dawned. 
 
 She left her mother still sleeping, when the sun rose, and 
 went silently down into the dear room below, and again busied 
 herself in a thousand little provident cares, which she won- 
 dered she had forgot before. 
 
 The carriages were at the door before the party had assem- 
 bled at the melancholy breakfast-table. Lord Vargrave was 
 the last to appear. 
 
 "I have been like all cowards," said he, seating himself, 
 "anxious to defer an evil as long as possible; a bad policy, 
 for it increases the worst of all pains, that of suspense." 
 
 Mrs. Merton had undertaken the duties that appertain to 
 the "hissing urn." "You prefer coffee, Lord Vargrave? 
 Caroline, my dear " 
 
 Caroline passed the cup to Lord Vargrave, who looked at 
 her hand as he took it there was a ring on one of those 
 slender fingers never observed there before. Their eyes met, 
 and Caroline coloured. Lord Vargrave turned to Evelyn, 
 who, pale as death, but tearless and speechless, sat beside her
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 51 
 
 mother; he attempted in vain to draw her into conversation. 
 Evelyn, who desired to restrain her feelings, would not trust 
 herself to speak. 
 
 Mrs. Merton, ever undisturbed and placid, continued to talk 
 on : to offer congratulations on the weather, it was such a 
 lovely day; and they should be off so early; it would be so 
 well arranged, they should be in such good time to dine at 
 
 , and then go three stages after dinner; the moon would 
 
 be up. 
 
 "But," said Lord Vargrave, "as I am to go with you as far 
 
 as , where our roads separate, I hope I am not condemned 
 
 to go alone, with my red box, two old newspapers, and the 
 blue devils. Have pity on me." 
 
 "Perhaps you will take Grandmamma, then?" whispered 
 Caroline, archly. 
 
 Lumley shrugged his shoulders, and replied in the same 
 tone, 
 
 " Yes, provided you keep to the proverb, ' Les extremes 
 se touchent, ' and the lovely grandchild accompany the vener- 
 able grandmamma." 
 
 "What would Evelyn say?" retorted Caroline. 
 
 Lumley sighed, and made no answer. 
 
 Mrs. Merton, who had hung fire while her daughter was 
 carrying on this " aside, " now put in, 
 
 " Suppose I and Caroline take your britzka, and you go in 
 our old coach with Evelyn and Mrs. Leslie? " 
 
 Lumley looked delightedly at the speaker, and then glanced 
 at Evelyn; but Mrs. Leslie said very gravely, "No, we shall 
 feel too much in leaving this dear place to be gay companions 
 for Lord Vargrave. We shall all meet at dinner; or," she 
 added, after a pause, "if this be uncourteous to Lord Var- 
 grave, suppose Evelyn and myself take his carriage, and he 
 accompanies you?" 
 
 "Agreed," said Mrs. Merton, quietly; "and now I will just 
 go and see about the strawberry-plants and slips it was so 
 kind in you, dear Lady Vargrave, to think of them." 
 
 An hour had elapsed, and Evelyn was gone ! She had left 
 her maiden home, she had wept her last farewell on her
 
 52 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 mother's bosom, the sound of the carriage-wheels had died 
 away; but still Lady Vargrave lingered on the threshold, still 
 she gazed on the spot where the last glimpse of Evelyn had 
 been caught. A sense of dreariness and solitude passed into 
 her soul : the very sunlight, the spring, the songs of the birds, 
 made loneliness more desolate. 
 
 Mechanically, at last, she moved away, and with slow steps 
 and downcast eyes passed through the favourite walk that led 
 into the quiet burial-ground. The gate closed upon her, and 
 now the lawn, the gardens, the haunts of Evelyn, were soli- 
 tary as the desert itself; but the daisy opened to the sun, and 
 the bee murmured along the blossoms, not the less blithely for 
 the absence of all human life. In the bosom of Nature there 
 beats no heart for man !
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Uros %\0f, 
 
 T& ol fvfK\<iffaro Oeol, otnovSe 
 Ei's '\Oa.KT]v, ovS' tvda ve(f>vyfJLfvo3 -fjtv aiQ\uv. 
 
 HOMER: Od. lib. i, 16. 
 
 " The hour arrived years having rolled away 
 When his return the Gods no more delay. 
 Lo ! Ithaca the Fates award ; and there 
 New trials meet the Wanderer." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE is continual spring and harvest here 
 
 Continual, both meeting at one time ; 
 For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear, 
 
 And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime ; 
 And eke at once the heavy trees they climb, 
 
 Which seem to labour under their fruit's load. 
 
 SPENSER : The Garden of Adonis. 
 
 Vis boni 
 In ipsa inesset forma. 1 TERENCE. 
 
 BEAUTY, thou art twice blessed ; thou blessest the gazer and 
 the possessor ; often at once the effect and the cause of good- 
 ness! A sweet disposition, a lovely soul, an affectionate 
 nature, will speak in the eyes, the lips, the brow, and become 
 the cause of beauty. On the other hand, they who have a gift 
 that commands love, a key that opens all hearts, are ordinarily 
 inclined to look with happy eyes upon the world, to be 
 cheerful and serene, to hope and to confide. There is more 
 wisdom than the vulgar dream of in our admiration of a fair 
 face. 
 
 1 " Even in beauty there exists the power of virtue."
 
 54 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Evelyn Cameron was beautiful, a beauty that came from 
 the heart, and went to the heart; a beauty, the very spirit of 
 which was love ! Love smiled on her dimpled lips, it reposed 
 on her open brow, it played in the profuse and careless ring- 
 lets of darkest yet sunniest auburn, which a breeze could lift 
 from her delicate and virgin cheek; Love, in all its tenderness, 
 in all its kindness, its unsuspecting truth, Love coloured 
 every thought, murmured in her low melodious voice, in all 
 its symmetry and glorious womanhood. Love swelled the 
 swan-like neck, and moulded the rounded limb. 
 
 She was just the kind of person that takes the judgment by 
 storm : whether gay or grave, there was so charming and irre- 
 sistible a grace about her. She seemed born, not only to cap- 
 tivate the giddy, but to turn the heads of the sage. Eoxalana 
 was nothing to her. How, in the obscure hamlet of Brook- 
 Green, she had learned all the arts of pleasing it is impossi- 
 ble to say. In her arch smile, the pretty toss of her head, 
 the half shyness, half freedom, of her winning ways, it was 
 as if Nature had made her to delight one heart, and torment 
 all others. 
 
 Without being learned, the mind of Evelyn was cultivated 
 and well informed. Her heart, perhaps, helped to instruct 
 her understanding; for by a kind of intuition she could appre- 
 ciate all that was beautiful and elevated. Her unvitiated and 
 guileless taste had a logic of its own : no schoolman had ever 
 a quicker penetration into truth, no critic ever more readily 
 detected the meretricious and the false. The book that Eve- 
 lyn could admire was sure to be stamped with the impress of 
 the noble, the lovely, or the true ! 
 
 But Evelyn had faults, the faults of her age; or, rather, 
 she had tendencies that might conduce to error. She was of 
 so generous a nature that the very thought of sacrificing her- 
 self for another had a charm. She ever acted from impulse, 
 impulses pure and good, but often rash and imprudent. 
 She was yielding to weakness, persuaded into anything, so 
 sensitive, that even a cold look from one moderately liked cut 
 her to the heart; and by the sympathy that accompanies sen- 
 sitiveness, no pain to her was so great as the thought of giv-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 65 
 
 ing pain to another. Hence it was that Vargrave might form 
 reasonable hopes of his ultimate success. It was a dangerous 
 constitution for happiness ! How many chances must combine 
 to preserve to the mid-day of characters like this the sunshine 
 of their dawn! The butterfly that seems the child of the 
 summer and the flowers what wind will not chill its mirth, 
 what touch will not brush away its hues? 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THESE, on a general survey, are the modes 
 
 Of pulpit oratory which agree 
 
 With no unlettered audience. FOLWHELE. 
 
 MRS. LESLIE had returned from her visit to the rectory to 
 her own home, and Evelyn had now been some weeks at Mrs. 
 Merton's. As was natural, she had grown in some measure 
 reconciled and resigned to her change of abode. In fact, no 
 sooner did she pass Mrs. Merton's threshold, than, for the 
 first time, she was made aware of her consequence in life. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Merton was a man of the nicest perception 
 in all things appertaining to worldly consideration. The sec- 
 ond son of a very wealthy baronet (who was the first com- 
 moner of his county) and of the daughter of a rich and highly- 
 descended peer, Mr. Merton had been brought near enough 
 to rank and power to appreciate all their advantages. In 
 early life he had been something of a "tuft-hunter; " but as his 
 understanding was good and his passions not very strong, he 
 had soon perceived that that vessel of clay, a young man with 
 a moderate fortune, cannot long sail down the same stream 
 with the metal vessels of rich earls and extravagant dandies. 
 Besides, he was destined for the Church because there was 
 one of the finest livings in England in the family. He there- 
 fore took orders at six-and-twenty ; married Mrs. Leslie's 
 daughter, who had thirty thousand pounds : and settled at the
 
 56 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 rectory of Merton, within a mile of the family seat. He be- 
 came a very respectable and extremely popular man. He was 
 singularly hospitable, and built a new wing containing a 
 large dining-room and six capital bed-rooms to the rectory, 
 which had now much more the appearance of a country villa 
 than a country parsonage. His brother, succeeding to the 
 estates, and residing chiefly in the neighbourhood, became, 
 like his father before him, member for the county, and was 
 one of the country gentlemen most looked up to in the House 
 of Commons. A sensible and frequent, though uncommonly 
 prosy speaker, singularly independent (for he had a clear 
 fourteen thousand pounds a year, and did not desire office), 
 and valuing himself on not being a party man, so that his 
 vote on critical questions was often a matter of great doubt, 
 and, therefore, of great moment, Sir John Merton gave con- 
 siderable importance to the Eev. Charles Merton. Th3 latter 
 kept up all the more select of his old London acquaintances ; 
 and few country houses, at certain seasons of the year, were 
 filled more aristocratically than the pleasant rectory-house. 
 Mr. Merton, indeed, contrived to make the Hall a reservoir 
 for the parsonage, and periodically drafted off the elite of the 
 visitors at the former to spend a few days at the latter. This 
 was the more easily done, as his brother was a widower, and 
 his conversation was all of one sort, the state of the nation 
 and the agricultural interest. Mr. Merton was upon very 
 friendly terms with his brother, looked after the property in 
 the absence of Sir John, kept up the family interest, was an 
 excellent electioneerer, a good speaker at a pinch, an able 
 magistrate, a man, in short, most useful in the county ; on 
 the whole, he was more popular than his brother, and almost 
 as much looked up to perhaps, because he was much less 
 ostentatious. He had very good taste, had the Eev. Charles 
 Merton ! his table plentiful, but plain his manners affable 
 to the low, though agreeably sycophantic to the high; and 
 there was nothing about him that ever wounded self-love. To 
 add to the attractions of his house, his wife, simple and good- 
 tempered, could talk with anybody, take off the bores, and 
 leave people to be comfortable in their own way : while he
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 57 
 
 had a large family of fine children of all ages, that had long 
 given easy and constant excuse under the name of "little 
 children's parties," for getting up an impromptu dance or a 
 gypsy dinner, enlivening the neighbourhood, in short. 
 Caroline was the eldest; then came a son, attached to a 
 foreign ministry, and another, who, though only nineteen, 
 was a private secretary to one of our Indian satraps. The 
 acquaintance of these young gentlemen, thus engaged, it was 
 therefore Evelyn's misfortune to lose the advantage of culti- 
 vating, a loss which both Mr. and Mrs. Merton assured her 
 was very much to be regretted. But to make up to her for 
 such a privation there were two lovely little girls, one ten, 
 and the other seven years old, who fell in love with Evelyn at 
 first sight. Caroline was one of the beauties of the county, 
 clever and conversable, "drew young men," and set the fash- 
 ion to young ladies, especially when she returned from spend- 
 ing the season with Lady Elizabeth. 
 
 It was a delightful family ! 
 
 In person, Mr. Merton was of the middle height; fair, and 
 inclined to stoutness, with small features, beautiful teeth, and 
 great suavity of address. Mindful still of the time when he 
 had been " about town, " he was very particular in his dress : 
 his black coat, neatly relieved in the evening by a white un- 
 derwaistcoat, and a shirt-front admirably plaited, with plain 
 studs of dark enamel, his well-cut trousers, and elaborately 
 polished shoes he was good-humouredly vain of his feet 
 and hands won for him the common praise of the dandies 
 (who occasionally honoured him with a visit to shoot his 
 game, and flirt with his daughter), " That old Merton was a 
 most gentlemanlike fellow so d d neat for a parson ! " 
 
 Such, mentally, morally, and physically, was the Rev. 
 Charles Merton, rector of Merton, brother of Sir John, and 
 possessor of an income that, what with his rich living, his 
 wife's fortune, and his own, which was not inconsiderable, 
 amounted to between four and five thousand pounds a year, 
 which income, managed with judgment as well as liberality, 
 could not fail to secure to him all the good things of this 
 world, the respect of his friends amongst the rest. Caro-
 
 58 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 line was right when she told Evelyn that her papa was very 
 different from a mere country parson. 
 
 Now this gentleman could not fail to see all the claims that 
 Evelyn might fairly advance upon the esteem, nay, the ven- 
 eration of himself and family : a young beauty, with a fortune 
 of about a quarter of a million, was a phenomenon that might 
 fairly be called celestial. Her pretensions were enhanced by 
 her engagement to Lord Vargrave, an engagement which 
 might be broken ; so that, as he interpreted it, the worst that 
 could happen to the young lady was to marry an able and 
 rising Minister of State, a peer of the realm; but she was 
 perfectly free to marry a still greater man, if she could find 
 him ; and who knows but what perhaps the attache, if he could 
 get leave of absence? Mr. Merton was too sensible to pursue 
 that thought further for the present. 
 
 The good man was greatly shocked at the too familiar man- 
 ner in which Mrs. Merton spoke to this high-fated heiress, at 
 Evelyn's travelling so far without her own maid, at her very 
 primitive wardrobe poor, ill-used child! Mr. Merton was a 
 connoisseur in ladies' dress. It was quite painful to see that 
 the unfortunate girl had been so neglected. Lady Vargrave 
 must be a very strange person. He inquired compassionately 
 whether she was allowed any pocket money; and finding, 
 to his relief, that in that respect Miss Cameron was munifi- 
 cently supplied, he suggested that a proper abigail should be 
 immediately engaged; that proper orders to Madame Devy 
 should be immediately transmitted to London, with one of 
 Evelyn's dresses, as a pattern for nothing but length and 
 breadth. He almost stamped with vexation when he heard 
 that Evelyn had been placed in one of the neat little rooms 
 generally appropriated to young lady visitors. 
 
 "She is quite contented, my dear Mr. Merton; she is 
 so simple; she has not been brought up in the style you 
 think for." 
 
 " Mrs. Merton, " said the rector, with great solemnity, " Miss 
 Cameron may know no better now; but what will she think of 
 us hereafter? It is my maxim to recollect what people will 
 be, and show them that respect which may leave pleasing im-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 59 
 
 pressions when they have it in their power to show us civility 
 in return." 
 
 With many apologies, which quite overwhelmed poor Eve- 
 lyn, she was transferred from the little chamber, with its 
 French bed and bamboo-coloured washhand-stand, to an apart- 
 ment with a buhl wardrobe and a four-post bed with green 
 silk curtains, usually appropriated to the regular Christmas 
 visitant, the Dowager Countess of Chipperton. A pretty 
 morning room communicated with the sleeping apartment, 
 and thence a private staircase conducted into the gardens. 
 The whole family were duly impressed and re-impressed with 
 her importance. No queen could be made more of. Evelyn 
 mistook it all for pure kindness, and returned the hospitality 
 with an affection that extended to the whole family, but par- 
 ticularly to the two little girls, and a beautiful black spaniel. 
 Her dresses came down from London; her abigail arrived; 
 the buhl wardrobe was duly filled, and Evelyn at last 
 learned that it is a fine thing to be rich. An account of all 
 these proceedings was forwarded to Lady Vargrave, in a long 
 and most complacent letter, by the rector himself. The 
 answer was short, but it contented the excellent clergyman ; 
 for it approved of all he had done, and begged that Miss 
 Cameron might have everything that seemed proper to her 
 station. 
 
 By the same post came two letters to Evelyn herself, one 
 from Lady Vargrave, one from the curate. They transported 
 her from the fine room and the buhl wardrobe to the cottage 
 and the lawn ; and the fine abigail, when she came to dress 
 her young lady's hair, found her weeping. 
 
 It was a matter of great regret to the rector that it was that 
 time of year when precisely because the country is most 
 beautiful every one worth knowing is in town. Still, how- 
 ever, some stray guests found their way to the rectory for a 
 day or two, and still there were some aristocratic old families 
 in the neighbourhood, who never went up to London: so that 
 two days in the week the rector's wine flowed, the whist- 
 tables were set out, and the piano called into requisition. 
 
 Evelyn the object of universal attention and admiration
 
 60 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 was put at her ease by her station itself; for good manners 
 come like an instinct to those on whom the world smiles. 
 Insensibly she acquired self-possession and the smoothness 
 of society; and if her child-like playfulness broke out from 
 all conventional restraint, it only made more charming and 
 brilliant the great heiress, whose delicate and fairy cast of 
 beauty so well became her graceful abandon of manner, and 
 who looked so unequivocally ladylike to the eyes that rested 
 on Madame Devy's blondes and satins. 
 
 Caroline was not so gay as she had been at the cottage. 
 Something seemed to weigh upon her spirits : she was often 
 moody and thoughtful. She was the only one in the family 
 not good-tempered; and her peevish replies to her parents, 
 when no visitor imposed a check on the family circle, incon- 
 ceivably pained Evelyn, and greatly contrasted the flow of 
 spirits which distinguished her when she found somebody 
 worth listening to. Still Evelyn who, where she once 
 liked, found it difficult to withdraw regard sought to over- 
 look Caroline's blemishes, and to persuade herself of a thou- 
 sand good qualities below the surface ; and her generous nature 
 found constant opportunity of venting itself in costly gifts, 
 selected from the London parcels, with which the officious 
 Mr. Merton relieved the monotony of the rectory. These 
 gifts Caroline could not refuse without paining her young 
 friend. She took them reluctantly, for, to do her justice, 
 Caroline, though ambitious, was not mean. 
 
 Thus time passed in the rectory, in gay variety and constant 
 entertainment; and all things combined to spoil the heiress, 
 if, indeed, goodness ever is spoiled by kindness and prosper- 
 ity. Is it to the frost or to the sunshine that the flower opens 
 its petals, or the fruit ripens from the blossom?
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 61 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Rod. How sweet these solitary places are ! 
 
 Fed. What strange musick 
 
 Was that we heard afar off ? 
 Curio. We 've told you what he is, what time we 've sought him, 
 
 His nature and his name. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER : The Pilgrim. 
 
 ONE day, as the ladies were seated in Mrs. Merton's morn- 
 ing-room, Evelyn, who had been stationed by the window 
 hearing the little Cecilia go through the French verbs, and 
 had just finished that agreeable task, exclaimed, 
 
 "Do tell me to whom that old house belongs, with the 
 picturesque gable-end and Gothic turrets, there, just peeping 
 through the trees, I have always forgot to ask you. " 
 
 "Oh, my dear Miss Cameron," said Mrs. Merton, "that is 
 Burleigh; have you not been there? How stupid in Caroline 
 not to show it to you ! It is one of the lions of the place. It 
 belongs to a man you have often heard of, Mr.. Maltravers." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Evelyn ; and she gazed with new interest 
 on the gray melancholy pile, as the sunshine brought it into 
 strong contrast with the dark pines around it. "And Mr. 
 Maltravers himself ?" 
 
 " Is still abroad, I believe ; though I did hear the other day 
 that he was shortly expected at Burleigh. It is a curious old 
 place, though much neglected. I believe, indeed, it has not 
 been furnished since the time of Charles the First. (Cissy, 
 my love, don't stoop so.) Very gloomy, in my opinion; and 
 not any fine room in the house, except the library, which was 
 once a chapel. However, people come miles to see it." 
 
 "Will you go there to-day?" said Caroline, languidly; "it 
 is a very pleasant walk through the glebe-land and the wood, 
 not above half a mile by the foot-path." 
 
 "I should like it so much."
 
 62 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Merton, "and you had better go before 
 he returns, he is so strange. He does not allow it to be 
 seen when he is down. But, indeed, he has only been once 
 at the old place since he was of age. (Sophy, you will tear 
 Miss Cameron's scarf to pieces; do be quiet, child.) That 
 was before he was a great man ; he was then very odd, saw no 
 society, only dined once with us, though Mr. Merton paid him 
 every attention. They show the room in which he wrote his 
 books." 
 
 " I remember him very well, though I was then but a child, " 
 said Caroline, "a handsome, thoughtful face." 
 
 "Did you think so, my dear? Fine eyes and teeth, cer- 
 tainly, and a commanding figure, but nothing more." 
 
 "Well," said Caroline, "if you like to go, Evelyn, I am at 
 your service." 
 
 "And I Evy, dear I may go," said Cecilia, cling- 
 ing to Evelyn. 
 
 "And me, too," lisped Sophia, the youngest hope, 
 "there's such a pretty peacock." 
 
 " Oh, yes, they may go, Mrs. Merton, we '11 take such care 
 of them." 
 
 "Very well, my dear; Miss Cameron quite spoils you." 
 
 Evelyn tripped away to put on her bonnet, and the children 
 ran after her, clapping their hands, they could not bear to 
 lose sight of her for a moment. 
 
 "Caroline," said Mrs. Merton, affectionately, "are you not 
 well? You have seemed pale lately, and not in your usual 
 spirits." 
 
 "Oh; yes, I'm well enough," answered Caroline, rather 
 peevishly; "but this place is so dull now; very provoking 
 that Lady Elizabeth does not go to London this year." 
 
 " My dear, it will be gayer, I hope, in July, when the races 
 at Knaresdean begin; and Lord Vargrave has promised to 
 come." 
 
 " Has Lord Vargrave written to you lately? " 
 
 "No, my dear." 
 
 "Very odd." 
 
 " Does Evelyn ever talk of him? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 63 
 
 "Not much," said Caroline, rising and quitting the room. 
 
 It was a most cheerful exhilarating day, the close of 
 sweet May; the hedges were white with blossoms; a light 
 breeze rustled the young leaves; the butterflies had ventured 
 forth, and the children chased them over the grass, as Evelyn 
 and Caroline, who walked much too slow for her companion 
 (Evelyn longed to run), followed them soberly towards 
 Burleigh. 
 
 They passed the glebe-fields; and a little bridge, thrown 
 over a brawling rivulet, conducted them into a wood. 
 
 "This stream," said Caroline, "forms the boundary between 
 my uncle's estates and those of Mr. Maltravers. It must be 
 very unpleasant to so proud a man as Mr. Maltravers is said 
 to be, to have the land of another proprietor so near his house. 
 He could hear my uncle's gun from his very drawing-room. 
 However, Sir John takes care not to molest him. On the 
 other side, the Burleigh estates extend for some miles; indeed, 
 Mr. Maltravers is the next great proprietor to my uncle in this 
 part of the county. Very strange that he does not marry! 
 There, now you can see the house." 
 
 The mansion lay somewhat low, with hanging woods in the 
 rear: and the old-fashioned fish-ponds gleaming in the sun- 
 shine and overshadowed by gigantic trees increased the vener- 
 able stillness of its aspect. Ivy and innumerable creepers 
 covered one side of the house ; and long weeds cumbered the 
 deserted road. 
 
 "It is sadly neglected," said Caroline; "and was so, even 
 in the last owner's life. Mr. Maltravers inherits the place 
 from his mother's uncle. We may as well enter the house by 
 the private way. The front entrance is kept locked up." 
 
 Winding by a path that conducted into a flower-garden, 
 divided from the park by a ha-ha, over which a plank and a 
 small gate, rusting off its hinges, were placed, Caroline led 
 the way towards the building. At this point of view it pre- 
 sented a large bay window that by a flight of four steps led 
 into the garden. On one side rose a square, narrow turret, 
 surmounted by a gilt dome and quaint weathercock, below the 
 architrave of which was a sun-dial, set in the stonework; and
 
 64 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 another dial stood in the garden, with the common and beau- 
 tiful motto, 
 
 " Non numero horas, nisi serenas ! " 1 
 
 On the other side of the bay window a huge buttress cast its 
 mass of shadow. There was something in the appearance of 
 the whole place that invited to contemplation and repose, 
 something almost monastic. The gayety of the teeming 
 spring-time could not divest the spot of a certain sadness, not 
 displeasing, however, whether to the young, to whom there is 
 a luxury in the vague sentiment of melancholy, or to those 
 who, having known real griefs, seek for an anodyne in medita- 
 tion and memory. The low lead-coloured door, set deep in the 
 turret, was locked, and the bell beside it broken. Caroline 
 turned impatiently away. " We must go round to the other 
 side," said she, "and try to make the deaf old man hear us." 
 
 "Oh, Carry!" cried Cecilia, "the great window is open;" 
 and she ran up the steps. 
 
 "That is lucky," said Caroline; and the rest followed 
 Cecilia. 
 
 Evelyn now stood within the library of which Mrs. Merton 
 had spoken. It was a large room, about fifty feet in length, 
 and proportionably wide; somewhat dark, for the light came 
 only from the one large window through which they entered; 
 and though the window rose to the cornice of the ceiling, and 
 took up one side of the apartment, the daylight was subdued 
 by the heaviness of the stonework in which the narrow panes 
 were set, and by the glass stained with armorial bearings in 
 the upper part of the casement. The bookcases, too, were of 
 the dark oak which so much absorbs the light; and the gild- 
 ing, formerly meant to relieve them, was discoloured by time. 
 
 The room was almost disproportionably lofty; the ceiling, 
 elaborately coved, and richly carved with grotesque masks, 
 preserved the Gothic character of the age in which it had 
 been devoted to a religious purpose. Two fireplaces, with 
 high chimney-pieces of oak, in which were inserted two por- 
 traits, broke the symmetry of the tall bookcases. In one of 
 
 1 " I number not the hours, unless sunny."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 65 
 
 these fireplaces were half-burnt logs; and a huge armchair, 
 with a small reading-desk beside it, seemed to bespeak the 
 recent occupation of the room. On the fourth side, opposite 
 the window, the wall was covered with faded tapestry, repre- 
 senting the meeting of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba; the 
 arras was nailed over doors on either hand, the chinks 
 between the door and the wall serving, in one instance, to cut 
 off in the middle his wise majesty, who was making a low 
 bow ; while in the other it took the ground from under the 
 wanton queen, just as she was descending from her chariot. 
 
 Near the window stood a grand piano, the only modern 
 article in the room, save one of the portraits, presently to be 
 described. On all this Evelyn gazed silently and devoutly: 
 she had naturally that reverence for genius which is common 
 to the enthusiastic and young; and there is, even to the dull- 
 est, a certain interest in the homes of those who have im- 
 planted within us a new thought. But here there was, she 
 imagined, a rare and singular harmony between the place 
 and the mental characteristics of the owner. She fancied 
 she now better understood the shadowy and metaphysical 
 repose of thought that had distinguished the earlier writ- 
 ings of Maltravers, the writings composed or planned in 
 this still retreat. 
 
 But what particularly caught her attention was one of the 
 two portraits that adorned the mantelpieces. The further one 
 was attired in the rich and fanciful armour of the time of 
 Elizabeth ; the head bare, the helmet on a table on which the 
 hand rested. It was a handsome and striking countenance; 
 and an inscription announced it to be a Digby, an ancestor of 
 Maltravers. 
 
 But the other was a beautiful girl of about eighteen, in the 
 now almost antiquated dress of forty years ago. The features 
 were delicate, but the colours somewhat faded, and there was 
 something mournful in the expression. A silk curtain, drawn 
 on one side, seemed to denote how carefully it was prized by 
 the possessor. 
 
 Evelyn turned for explanation to her cicerone. 
 
 "This is the second time I have seen that picture," said 
 
 5
 
 66 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Caroline; "for it is only by great entreaty and as a mysteri- 
 ous favour that the old housekeeper draws aside the veil. 
 Some touch of sentiment in Maltravers makes him regard it 
 as sacred. It is the picture of his mother before she married; 
 she died in giving him birth." 
 
 Evelyn sighed; how well she understood the sentiment 
 which seemed to Caroline so eccentric! The countenance 
 fascinated her; the eye seemed to follow her as she turned. 
 
 "As a proper pendant to this picture," said Caroline, "he 
 ought to have dismissed the effigies of yon warlike gentleman, 
 and replaced it by one of poor Lady Florence Lascelles, for 
 whose loss he is said to have quitted his country: but, per- 
 haps, it was the loss of her fortune." 
 
 "How can you say so? fie!" cried Evelyn, with a burst 
 of generous indignation. 
 
 "Ah, my dear, you heiresses have a fellow-feeling with 
 each other! Nevertheless, clever men are less sentimental 
 than we deem them. Heigho! this quiet room gives me the 
 spleen, I fancy." 
 
 "Dearest Evy," whispered Cecilia, "I think you have a 
 look of that pretty picture, only you are much prettier. Do 
 take off your bonnet; your hair just falls down like hers." 
 
 Evelyn shook her head gravely ; but the spoiled child hastily 
 untied the ribbons and snatched away the hat, and Evelyn's 
 sunny ringlets fell down in beautiful disorder. There was no 
 resemblance between Evelyn and the portrait, except in the 
 colour of the hair, and the careless fashion it now by chance 
 assumed. Yet Evelyn was pleased to think that a likeness 
 did exist, though Caroline declared it was a most unflattering 
 compliment. 
 
 "I don't wonder," said the latter, changing the theme, 
 " I don't wonder Mr. Maltravers lives so little in this ' Castle 
 Dull; ' yet it might be much improved. French windows and 
 plate-glass, for instance; and if those lumbering bookshelves 
 and horrid old chimney-pieces were removed and the ceiling 
 painted white and gold like that in my uncle's saloon, and a 
 rich, lively paper, instead of the tapestry, it would really 
 make a very fine ballroom."
 
 ALICE; OB, THE MYSTERIES. 67 
 
 "Let us have a dance here now," cried Cecilia. "Come, 
 stand up, Sophy; " and the children began to practise a waltz 
 step, tumbling over each other, and laughing in full glee. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Evelyn, softly. She had never before 
 checked the children's mirth, and she could not tell why she 
 did so now. 
 
 " I suppose the old butler has been entertaining the bailiff 
 here," said Caroline, pointing to the remains of the fire. 
 
 " And is this the room he chiefly inhabited, the room that 
 you say they show as his?" 
 
 "No; that tapestry door to the right leads into & little 
 study where he wrote." So saying, Caroline tried to open 
 the door, but it was locked from within. She then opened 
 the other door, which showed a long wainscoted passage, hung 
 with rusty pikes, and a few breastplates of the time of the 
 Parliamentary Wars. "This leads to the main body of the 
 house," said Caroline, "from which the room we are now m 
 and the little study are completely detached, having, as you 
 know, been the chapel in popish times. I have heard that Sir 
 Kenelm Digby, an ancestral connection of the present owner, 
 first converted them into their present use, and, in return, 
 built the village church on the other side of the park." 
 
 Sir Kenelm Digby, the old cavalier philosopher! a new 
 name of interest to consecrate the place ! Evelyn could have 
 lingered all day in the room; and perhaps as an excuse for a 
 longer sojourn, hastened to the piano it was open she ran 
 her fairy fingers over the keys, and the sound from the un- 
 tuned and neglected instrument thrilled wild and spiritlike 
 through the melancholy chamber. 
 
 "Oh, do sing us something, Evy," cried Cecilia, running up 
 to, and drawing a chair to, the instrument. 
 
 "Do, Evelyn," said Caroline, languidly; "it will serve to 
 bring one of the servants to us, and save us a journey to the 
 offices." 
 
 It was just what Evelyn wished. Some verses, which her 
 mother especially loved, verses written by Maltravers upon 
 returning after absence to his own home, had rushed into her 
 mind as she had touched the keys. They were appropriate
 
 68 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 to the place, and had been beautifully set to music. So the 
 children hushed themselves, and nestled at her feet; and 
 after a little prelude, keeping the accompaniment under, that 
 the spoiled instrument might not mar the sweet words and 
 sweeter voice , she began the song. 
 
 Meanwhile in the adjoining room, the little study which 
 Caroline had spoken of, sat the owner of the house ! He had 
 returned suddenly and unexpectedly the previous night. The 
 old steward was in attendance at the moment, full of apolo- 
 gies, congratulations, and gossip; and Maltravers, grown a 
 stern and haughty man, was already impatiently turning 
 away, when he heard the sudden sound of the children's 
 laughter and loud voices in the room beyond. Maltravers 
 frowned. 
 
 "What impertinence is this?" said he in a tone that, 
 though very calm, made the steward quake in his shoes. 
 
 "I don't know, really, your honour; there be so many grand 
 folks come to see the house in the fine weather, that " 
 
 "And you permit your master's house to be a raree-show? 
 You do well, sir." 
 
 "If your honour were more amongst us, there might be 
 more discipline like," said the steward, stoutly; "but no one 
 in my time has cared so little for the old place as those it 
 belongs to." 
 
 " Fewer words with me, sir, " said Maltravers, haughtily ; 
 " and now go and inform those people that I am returned, and 
 wish for no guests but those I invite myself." 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 "Do you not hear me? Say that if it so please them, these 
 old ruins are my property, and are not to be jobbed out to the 
 insolence of public curiosity. Go, sir." 
 
 " But I beg pardon, your honour if they be great 
 folks?" 
 
 "Great folks ! great ! Ay, there it is. Why, if they be 
 great folks, they have great houses of their own, Mr. Justis." 
 
 The steward stared. "Perhaps, your honour," he put in, 
 deprecatingly, "they be Mr. Merton's family: they come very 
 often when the London gentlemen are with them."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 69 
 
 " Merton ! oh, the cringing parson. Harkye ! one word 
 more with me, sir, and you quit my service to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Justis lifted his eyes and hands to heaven; but there 
 was something in his master's voice and look which checked 
 reply, and he turned slowly to the door when a voice of 
 such heavenly sweetness was heard without that it arrested 
 his own step and made the stern Maltravers start in his seat. 
 He held up his hand to the steward to delay his errand, and 
 listened, charmed and spell-bound. His own words came on 
 his ear, words long unfamiliar to him, and at first but im- 
 perfectly remembered; words connected with the early and 
 virgin years of poetry and aspiration ; words that were as the 
 ghosts of thoughts now far too gentle for his altered soul. He 
 bowed down his head, and the dark shade left his brow. 
 
 The song ceased. Maltravers moved with a sigh, and his 
 eyes rested on the form of the steward with his hand on the 
 door. 
 
 "Shall I give your honour's message?" said Mr. Justis, 
 gravely. 
 
 "No; take care for the future; leave me now." 
 
 Mr. Justis made one leg, and then, well pleased, took to 
 both. 
 
 "Well," thought he, as he departed, "how foreign parts do 
 spoil a gentleman ! so mild as he was once ! I must botch up 
 the accounts, I see, the squire has grown sharp." 
 
 As Evelyn concluded her song, she whose charm in sing- 
 ing was that she sang from the heart was so touched by the 
 melancholy music of the air and words, that her voice fal- 
 tered, and the last line died inaudibly on her lips. 
 
 The children sprang up and kissed her. 
 
 "Oh," cried Cecilia, "there is the beautiful peacock!" 
 And there, indeed, on the steps without perhaps attracted 
 by the music stood the picturesque bird. The children ran 
 out to greet their old favourite, who was extremely tame; and 
 presently Cecilia returned. 
 
 "Oh, Carry! do see what beautiful horses are coming up 
 the park!" 
 
 Caroline, who was a good rider, and fond of horses, and
 
 70 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 whose curiosity was always aroused by things connected with 
 show and station, suffered the little girl to draw her into the 
 garden. Two grooms, each mounted on a horse of the pure 
 Arabian breed, and each leading another, swathed and ban- 
 daged, were riding slowly up the road; and Caroline was so 
 attracted by the novel appearance of the animals in a place so 
 deserted that she followed the children towards them, to learn 
 who could possibly be their enviable owner. Evelyn, forgot- 
 ten for the moment, remained alone. She was pleased at 
 being so, and once more turned to the picture which had so 
 attracted her before. The mild eyes fixed on her, with an 
 expression that recalled to her mind her own mother. 
 
 "And," thought she, as she gazed, "this fair creature did 
 not live to know the fame of her son, to rejoice in his success, 
 or to soothe his grief. And he, that son, a disappointed and 
 solitary exile in distant lands, while strangers stand within 
 his deserted hall ! " 
 
 The images she had conjured up moved and absorbed her; 
 and she continued to stand before the picture, gazing upward 
 with moistened eyes. It was a beautiful vision as she thus 
 stood, with her delicate bloom, her luxuriant hair (for the hat 
 was not yet replaced), her elastic form, so full of youth and 
 health and hope, the living form beside the faded canvas of 
 the dead, once youthful, tender, lovely as herself! Evelyn 
 turned away with a sigh; the sigh was re-echoed yet more 
 deeply. She started: the door that led to the study was 
 opened, and in the aperture was the figure of a man in the 
 prime of life. His hair, still luxuriant as in his earliest 
 youth, though darkened by the suns of the East, curled over 
 a forehead of majestic expanse. The high and proud features, 
 that well became a stature above the ordinary standard ; the 
 pale but bronzed complexion ; the large eyes of deepest blue, 
 shaded by dark brows and lashes; and more than all, that 
 expression at once of passion and repose which characterizes 
 the old Italian portraits, and seems to denote the inscrutable 
 power that experience imparts to intellect, constituted an 
 ensemble which, if not faultlessly handsome, was eminently 
 striking, and formed at once to interest and command. It
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 71 
 
 was a face, once seen, never to be forgotten; it was a face 
 that had long, half unconsciously, haunted Evelyn's young 
 dreams; it was a face she had seen before, though, then 
 younger and milder and fairer, it wore a different aspect. 
 
 Evelyn stood rooted to the spot, feeling herself blush to 
 her very temples, an enchanting picture of bashful confu- 
 sion and innocent alarm. 
 
 "Do not let me regret my return," said the stranger, 
 approaching after a short pause, and with much gentleness 
 in his voice and smile; "and think that the owner is doomed 
 to scare away the fair spirits that haunted the spot in his 
 absence." 
 
 "The owner!" repeated Evelyn, almost inaudibly, and in 
 increased embarrassment ; " are you then the the " 
 
 "Yes," courteously interrupted the stranger, seeing her 
 confusion, "my name is Maltravers; and I am to blame for 
 not having informed you of my sudden return, or for now tres- 
 passing on your presence. But you see my excuse;" and he 
 pointed to the instrument. " You have the magic that draws 
 even the serpent from his hole. But you are not alone? " 
 
 "Oh, no! no, indeed! Miss Merton is with me. I know 
 not where she is gone. I will seek her." 
 
 " Miss Merton ! You are not then one of that family? " 
 
 "No, only a guest. I will find her; she must apologize for 
 us. We were not aware that you were here, indeed we 
 were not." 
 
 "That is a cruel excuse," said Maltravers, smiling at her 
 eagerness: and the smile and the look reminded her yet more 
 forcibly of the time when he had carried her in his arms and 
 soothed her suffering and praised her courage and pressed the 
 kiss almost of a lover on her hand. At that thought she 
 blushed yet more deeply, and yet more eagerly turned to 
 escape. 
 
 Maltravers did not seek to detain her, but silently followed 
 her steps. She had scarcely gained the window, before little 
 Cecilia scampered in, crying, 
 
 " Only think ! Mr. Maltravers has come back, and brought 
 such beautiful horses ! "
 
 72 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Cecilia stopped abruptly, as she caught sight of the stranger; 
 and the next moment Caroline herself appeared. Her worldly 
 experience and quick sense saw immediately what had chanced ; 
 and she hastened to apologize to Maltravers, and congratulate 
 him on his return, with an ease that astonished poor Evelyn, 
 and by no means seemed appreciated by Maltravers himself. 
 He replied with brief and haughty courtesy. 
 
 "My father," continued Caroline, "will be so glad to hear 
 you are come back. He will hasten to pay you his respects, 
 and apologize for his truants. But I have not formally intro- 
 duced you to my fellow-offender. My dear, let me present to 
 you one whom Fame has already made known to you; Mr. 
 Maltravers, Miss Cameron, step-daughter," she added in a 
 lower voice, "to the late Lord Vargrave." 
 
 At the first part of this introduction Maltravers frowned; 
 at the last he forgot all displeasure. 
 
 "Is it possible? I thought I had seen you before, but in a 
 dream. Ah, then we are not quite strangers ! " 
 
 Evelyn's eye met his, and though she coloured and strove 
 to look grave, a half smile brought out the dimples that played 
 round her arch lips. 
 
 "But you do not remember me?" added Maltravers. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " exclaimed Evelyn, with a sudden impulse ; and 
 then checked herself. 
 
 Caroline came to her friend's relief. 
 
 "What is this? You surprise me; where did you ever see 
 Mr. Maltravers before?" 
 
 "I can answer that question, Miss Merton. When Miss 
 Cameron was but a child, as high as my little friend here, an 
 accident on the road procured me her acquaintance; and the 
 sweetness and fortitude she then displayed left an impression 
 on me not worn out even to this day. And thus we meet 
 again," added Maltravers, in a muttered voice, as to himself. 
 "How strange a thing life is! " 
 
 "Well," said Miss Merton, "we must intrude on you no 
 more, you have so much to do. I am so sorry Sir John is 
 not down to welcome you; but I hope we shall be good neigh- 
 bours. Au revoir ! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 73 
 
 And, fancying herself most charming, Caroline bowed, 
 smiled, and walked off with her train. Maltravers paused 
 irresolute. If Evelyn had looked back, he would have accom- 
 panied them home ; but Evelyn did not look back, and he 
 stayed. 
 
 Miss Merton rallied her young friend unmercifully, as they 
 walked homeward, and she extracted a very brief and imper- 
 fect history of the adventure that had formed the first 
 acquaintance, and of the interview by which it had been 
 renewed. But Evelyn did not heed her; and the moment 
 they arrived at the rectory, she hastened to shut herself m 
 her room, and write the account of her adventure to her 
 mother. How often, in her girlish reveries, had she thought 
 of that incident, that stranger! And now, by such a chance, 
 and after so many years, to meet the Unknown by his own 
 hearth ! and that Unknown to be Maltravers ! It was as if a 
 dream had come true. While she was yet musing and the 
 letter not yet begun she heard the sound of joy-bells in the 
 distance. At once she divined the cause ; it was the welcome 
 of the wanderer to his solitary home ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAIS en connaissant votre condition naturelle, usez des moyens qui lui sont 
 propres, et ne pre'teiidez pas re'gner par uue autre voie que par celle qui vous 
 fait roi. 1 PASCAL. 
 
 IN the heart as in the ocean, the great tides ebb and flow. 
 The waves which had once urged on the spirit of Ernest 
 Maltravers to the rocks and shoals of active life had long 
 since receded back upon the calm depths, and left the strandj 
 bare. With a melancholy and disappointed mind, he had 
 
 1 "But in understanding your natural condition, use the means which are 
 proper to it ; and pretend not to govern by any other way than by that which 
 constitutes you governor."
 
 74 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 quitted the land of his birth; and new scenes, strange and 
 wild, had risen before his wandering gaze. Wearied with 
 civilization, and sated with many of the triumphs for which 
 civilized men drudge and toil, and disquiet themselves in 
 vain, he had plunged amongst hordes, scarce redeemed from 
 primeval barbarism. The adventures through which he had 
 passed, and in which life itself could only be preserved by 
 wary vigilance and ready energies, had forced him, for a 
 while, from the indulgence of morbid contemplations. His 
 heart, indeed, had been left inactive; but his intellect and his 
 physical powers had been kept in hourly exercise. He re- 
 turned to the world of his equals with a mind laden with the 
 treasures of a various and vast experience, and with much of 
 the same gloomy moral as that which, on emerging from the 
 Catacombs, assured the restless speculations of Easselas of 
 the vanity of human life and the folly of moral aspirations. 
 
 Ernest Maltravers, never a faultless or completed character, 
 falling short in practice of his own capacities, moral and 
 intellectual, from his very desire to overpass the limits of the 
 Great and Good, was seemingly as far as heretofore from 
 the grand secret of life. It was not so in reality; his mind 
 had acquired what before it wanted, hardness ; and we are 
 nearer to true virtue and true happiness when we demand 
 too little from men than when we exact too much. 
 
 Nevertheless, partly from the strange life that had thrown 
 him amongst men whom safety itself made it necessary to 
 command despotically, partly from the habit of power and 
 disdain of the world, his nature was incrusted with a stern 
 imperiousness of manner, often approaching to the harsh and 
 morose, though beneath it lurked generosity and benevolence. 
 
 Many of his younger feelings, more amiable and complex, 
 had settled into one predominant quality, which more or less 
 had always characterized him, Pride ! Self-esteem made 
 inactive, and Ambition made discontented, usually engender 
 haughtiness. In Maltravers this quality, which, properly 
 controlled and duly softened, is the essence and life of hon- 
 our, was carried to a vice. He was perfectly conscious of its 
 excess, but he cherished it as a virtue. Pride had served to
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 75 
 
 console him in sorrow, and therefore it was a friend; it had 
 supported him when disgusted with fraud, or in resistance to 
 violence, and therefore it was a champion and a fortress. It 
 was a pride of a peculiar sort: it attached itself to no one 
 point in especial, not to talent, knowledge, mental gifts, 
 still less to the vulgar commonplaces of birth and fortune; it 
 rather resulted from a supreme and wholesale contempt of all 
 other men, and all their objects, of ambition, of glory, of 
 the hard business of life. His favourite virtue was fortitude; 
 it was on this that he now mainly valued himself. He was 
 proud of his struggles against others, prouder still of con- 
 quests over his own passions. He looked upon FATE as the 
 arch enemy against whose attacks we should ever prepare. 
 He fancied that against fate he had thoroughly schooled him- 
 self. In the arrogance of his heart he said, "I can defy the 
 future." He believed in the boast of the vain old sage, 
 " I am a world to myself! " In the wild career through which 
 his later manhood had passed, it is true that he had not car- 
 ried his philosophy into a rejection of the ordinary world. 
 The shock occasioned by the death of Florence yielded grad- 
 ually to time and change ; and he had passed from the deserts 
 of Africa and the East to the brilliant cities of Europe. But 
 neither his heart nor his reason had ever again been enslaved 
 by his passions. Never again had he known the softness of 
 affection. Had he done so, the ice had been thawed, and the 
 fountain had flowed once more into the great deeps. He had 
 returned to England, he scarce knew wherefore, or with 
 what intent, certainly not with any idea of entering again 
 upon the occupations of active life ; it was, perhaps, only the 
 weariness of foreign scenes and unfamiliar tongues, and the 
 vague, unsettled desire of change, that brought him back to 
 the fatherland. But he did not allow so unphilosophical a 
 cause to himself: and, what was strange, he would not allow 
 one much more amiable, and which was, perhaps, the truer 
 cause, the increasing age and infirmities of his old guar- 
 dian, Cleveland, who prayed him affectionately to return. 
 Maltravers did not like to believe that his heart was still so 
 kind. Singular form of pride ! No, he rather sought to per-
 
 76 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 suade himself that he intended to sell Burleigh, to arrange his 
 affairs finally, and then quit forever his native land. To prove 
 to himself that this was the case, he had intended at Dover to 
 hurry at once to Burleigh, and merely write to Cleveland that 
 he was returned to England. But his heart would not suffer 
 him to enjoy this cruel luxury of self -mortification, and his 
 horses' heads were turned to Richmond when within a stage 
 of London. He had spent two days with the good old man, 
 and those two days had so warmed and softened his feelings 
 that he was quite appalled at his own dereliction from fixed 
 principles ! However, he went before Cleveland had time to 
 discover that he was changed; and the old man had promised 
 to visit him shortly. 
 
 This, then, was the state of Ernest Maltravers at the age of 
 thirty-six, an age in which frame and mind are in their 
 fullest perfection ; an age in which men begin most keenly to 
 feel that they are citizens. With all his energies braced and 
 strengthened; with his mind stored with profusest gifts; in 
 the vigour of a constitution to which a hardy life had imparted 
 a second and fresher youth; so trained by stern experience as 
 to redeem with an easy effort all the deficiencies and faults 
 which had once resulted from too sensitive an imagination and 
 too high a standard for human actions ; formed to render to 
 his race the most brilliant and durable service, and to secure 
 to himself the happiness which results from sobered fancy, a 
 generous heart, and an approving conscience, here was 
 Ernest Maltravers, backed, too, by the appliances and gifts 
 of birth and fortune, perversely shutting up genius, life, and 
 soul in their own thorny leaves, and refusing to serve the 
 fools and rascals who were formed from the same clay, and 
 gifted by the same God. Morbid and morose philosophy, 
 begot by a proud spirit on a lonely heart!
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 77 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LET such amongst us as are willing to be children again, if it be only for 
 an hour, resign ourselves to the sweet enchantment that steals upon the spirit 
 when it indulges in the memory of early and innocent enjoyment. 
 
 D. L. RICHARDSON. 
 
 AT dinner, Caroline's lively recital of their adventures was 
 received with much interest, not only by the Merton family, 
 but by some of the neighbouring gentry who shared the rec- 
 tor's hospitality. The sudden return of any proprietor to his 
 old hereditary seat after a prolonged absence makes some sen- 
 sation in a provincial neighbourhood. In this case, where 
 the proprietor was still young, unmarried, celebrated, and 
 handsome, the sensation was of course proportionably in- 
 creased. Caroline and Evelyn were beset by questions, to 
 which the former alone gave any distinct reply. Caroline's 
 account was, on the whole, gracious and favourable, and 
 seemed complimentary to all but Evelyn, who thought that 
 Caroline was a very indifferent portrait-painter. 
 
 It seldom happens that a man is a prophet in his own 
 neighbourhood; but Maltravers had been so little in the 
 county, and in his former visit his life had been so secluded, 
 that he was regarded as a stranger. He had neither outshone 
 the establishments nor interfered with the sporting of his fel- 
 low-squires ; and on the whole, they made just allowance for 
 his habits of distant reserve. Time, and his retirement from 
 the busy scene, long enough to cause him to be missed, not 
 long enough for new favourites to supply his place, had 
 greatly served to mellow and consolidate his reputation, and 
 his country was proud to claim him. Thus (though Mal- 
 travers would not have believed it had an angel told him) he 
 was not spoken ill of behind his back : a thousand little anec- 
 dotes of his personal habits, of his generosity, independence 
 of spirit, and eccentricity were told. Evelyn listened in rapt
 
 78 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 delight to all; she had never passed so pleasant an evening; 
 and she smiled almost gratefully on the rector, who was a man 
 that always followed the stream, when he said with benign 
 affability, "We must really show our distinguished neighbour 
 every attention, we must be indulgent to his little oddities. 
 His politics are not mine, to be sure; but a man who has 
 a stake in the country has a right to his own opinion, that 
 was always my maxim, thank Heaven, I am a very moder- 
 ate man. We must draw him amongst us ; it will be our own 
 fault, I am sure, if he is not quite domesticated at the 
 rectory." 
 
 " With such attraction, yes," said the thin curate, timidly 
 bowing to the ladies. 
 
 "It would be a nice match for Miss Caroline," whispered 
 an old lady; Caroline overheard, and pouted her pretty lip. 
 
 The whist-tables were now set out, the music began, and 
 Maltravers was left in peace. 
 
 The next day Mr. Merton rode his pony over to Burleigh. 
 Maltravers was not at home. He left his card, and a note of 
 friendly respect, begging Mr. Maltravers to waive ceremony, 
 and dine with them the next day. Somewhat to the surprise 
 of the rector, he found that the active spirit of Maltravers 
 was already at work. The long-deserted grounds were filled 
 with labourers; the carpenters were busy at the fences; the 
 house looked alive and stirring; the grooms were exercising 
 the horses in the park, all betokened the return of the 
 absentee. This seemed to denote that Maltravers had come 
 to reside ; and the rector thought of Caroline, and was pleased 
 at the notion. 
 
 The next day was Cecilia's birthday, and birthdays were 
 kept at Merton Rectory; the neighbouring children were 
 invited. They were to dine on the lawn, in a large marquee, 
 and to dance in the evening. The hothouses yielded their 
 early strawberries, and the cows, decorated with blue ribbons, 
 were to give syllabubs. The polite Caroline was not greatly 
 fascinated by pleasure of this kind; she graciously appeared 
 at dinner, kissed the prettiest of the children, helped them to 
 soup, and then, having done her duty, retired to her room
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 79 
 
 to write letters. The children were not sorry, for they were 
 a little afraid of the grand Caroline ; and they laughed much 
 more loudly, and made much more noise, when she was gone 
 
 and the cake and strawberries appeared. 
 
 Evelyn was in her element; she had, as a child, mixed so 
 little with children, she had so often yearned for playmates, 
 she was still so childlike. Besides, she was so fond of Cecilia, 
 she had looked forward with innocent delight to the day; and 
 a week before had taken the carriage to the neighbouring town 
 to return with a carefully concealed basket of toys, dolls, 
 sashes, and picture-books. But somehow or other, she did 
 not feel so childlike as usual that morning; her heart was 
 away from the pleasure before her, and her smile was at first 
 languid. But in children's mirth there is something so con- 
 tagious to those who love children; and now, as the party 
 scattered themselves on the grass, and Evelyn opened the 
 basket, and bade them with much gravity keep quiet, and be 
 good children, she was the happiest of the whole group. But 
 she knew how to give pleasure : and the basket was presented 
 to Cecilia, that the little queen of the day might enjoy the 
 luxury of being generous ; and to prevent jealousy, the notable 
 expedient of a lottery was suggested. 
 
 "Then Evy shall be Fortune! " cried Cecilia; "nobody will 
 be sorry to get anything from Evy, and if any one is dis- 
 contented Evy sha'n't kiss her." 
 
 Mrs. Merton, whose motherly heart was completely won by 
 Evelyn's kindness to the children, forgot all her husband's 
 lectures, and willingly ticketed the prizes, and wrote the 
 numbers of the lots on slips of paper carefully folded. A 
 large old Indian jar was dragged from the drawing-room and 
 constituted the fated urn; the tickets were deposited therein, 
 and Cecilia was tying the handkerchief round Evelyn's eyes, 
 
 while Fortune struggled archly not to be as blind as she 
 ought to be, and the children, seated in a circle, were in 
 full joy and expectation when there was a sudden pause. The 
 laughter stopped; so did Cissy's little hands. What could it 
 be? Evelyn slipped the bandage, and her eyes rested on 
 Maltravers !
 
 80 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Well, really, my dear Miss Cameron," said the rector, 
 who was by the side of the intruder, and who, indeed, had 
 just brought him to the spot, " I don't know what these little 
 folks will do to you next." 
 
 " I ought rather to be their victim, " said Maltravers, good- 
 humouredly ; " the fairies always punish us grown-up mortals 
 for trespassing on their revels." 
 
 While he spoke, his eyes those eyes, the most eloquent in 
 the world dwelt on Evelyn (as, to cover her blushes, she 
 took Cecilia in her arms, and appeared to attend to nothing 
 else) with a look of such admiration and delight as a mortal 
 might well be supposed to cast on some beautiful fairy. 
 
 Sophy, a very bold child, ran up to him. "How do, sir?" 
 she lisped, putting up her face to be kissed; "how's the 
 pretty peacock?" 
 
 This opportune audacity served at once to renew the charm 
 that had been broken, to unite the stranger with the chil- 
 dren. Here was acquaintance claimed and allowed in an 
 instant. The next moment Maltravers was one of the circle, 
 on the turf with the rest, as gay, and almost as noisy, that 
 hard, proud man, so disdainful of the trifles of the world ! 
 
 "But the gentleman must have a prize, too," said Sophy, 
 proud of her tall new friend. "What's your other name; 
 why do you have such a long, hard name? " 
 
 "Call me Ernest," said Maltravers. 
 
 " Why don't we begin? " cried the children. 
 
 "Evy, come, be a good child, miss," said Sophy, as Evelyn, 
 vexed and ashamed, and half ready to cry, resisted the 
 bandage. 
 
 Mr. Merton interposed his authority; but the children 
 clamoured, and Evelyn hastily yielded. It was Fortune's 
 duty to draw the tickets from the urn, and give them to each 
 claimant whose name was called ; when it came to the turn of 
 Maltravers, the bandage did not conceal the blush and smile 
 of the enchanting goddess, and the hand of the aspirant 
 thrilled as it touched hers. 
 
 The children burst into screams of laughter when Cecilia 
 gravely awarded to Maltravers the worst prize in the lot, a
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 81 
 
 blue ribbon, which Sophy, however, greedily insisted on 
 having ; but Maltravers would not yield it. 
 
 Maltravers remained all day at the rectory, and shared in 
 the ball, yes, he danced with Evelyn he, Maltravers, who 
 had never been known to dance since he was twenty-two! 
 The ice was fairly broken, Maltravers was at home with 
 the Mertons. And when he took his solitary walk to his soli- 
 tary house over the little bridge, and through the shadowy 
 wood astonished, perhaps, with himself, every one of the 
 guests, from the oldest to the youngest, pronounced him 
 delightful. Caroline, perhaps, might have been piqued some 
 months ago that he did not dance with her ; but now, her 
 heart such as it was felt preoccupied. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 L'ESPRIT de 1'homme est plus penetrant que consequent, et embrasse plus 
 qu'il ne peut lier. 1 VAUVENARGUES. 
 
 AND now Maltravers was constantly with the Merton family ; 
 there was no need of excuse for familiarity on his part. Mr. 
 Merton, charmed to find his advances not rejected, thrust inti- 
 macy upon him. 
 
 One day they spent the afternoon at Burleigh, and Evelyn 
 and Caroline finished their survey of the house, tapestry, 
 and armour, pictures and all. This led to a visit to the 
 Arabian horses. Caroline observed that she was very fond 
 of riding, and went into ecstasies with one of the animals, 
 the one, of course, with the longest tail. The next day the 
 horse was in the stables at the rectory, and a gallant epistle 
 apologized for the costly gift. 
 
 Mr. Merton demurred, but Caroline always had her own 
 way; and so the horse remained (no doubt, in much amaze- 
 
 1 "The spirit of man is more penetrating than logical, and gathers more 
 than it can garner."
 
 82 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 merit and disdain) with the parson's pony, and the brown 
 carriage horses. The gift naturally conduced to parties on 
 horseback it was cruel entirely to separate the Arab from 
 his friends and how was Evelyn to be left behind? 
 Evelyn, who had never yet ridden anything more spirited 
 than an old pony ! A beautiful little horse belonging to an 
 elderly lady, now growing too stout to ride, was to be sold 
 hard by. Maltravers discovered the treasure, and apprised 
 Mr. Merton of it he was too delicate to affect liberality to 
 the rich heiress. The horse was bought; nothing could go 
 quieter; Evelyn was not at all afraid. They made two or 
 three little excursions. Sometimes only Mr. Merton and 
 Maltravers accompanied the young ladies, sometimes the 
 party was more numerous. Maltravers appeared to pay 
 equal attention to Caroline and her friend; still Evelyn's 
 inexperience in equestrian matters was an excuse for his 
 being ever by her side. They had a thousand opportunities 
 to converse; and Evelyn now felt more at home with him; 
 her gentle gayety, her fanciful yet chastened intellect, found 
 a voice. Maltravers was not slow to discover that beneath 
 her simplicity there lurked sense, judgment, and imagina- 
 tion. Insensibly his own conversation took a higher flight. 
 With the freedom which his mature years and reputation 
 gave him, he mingled eloquent instruction with lighter and 
 more trifling subjects; he directed her earnest and docile 
 mind, not only to new fields of written knowledge, but to 
 many of the secrets of Nature, subtle or sublime. He had a 
 wide range of scientific as well as literary lore; the stars, the 
 flowers, the phenomena of the physical world, afforded themes 
 on which he descanted with the fervent love of a poet and the 
 easy knowledge of a sage. 
 
 Mr. Merton, observing that little or nothing of sentiment 
 mingled with their familiar intercourse, felt perfectly at ease ; 
 and knowing that Maltravers had been intimate with Lumley, 
 he naturally concluded that he was aware of the engagement 
 between Evelyn and his friend. Meanwhile Maltravers ap- 
 peared unconscious that such a being as Lord Vargrave 
 existed.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 83 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that the daily presence, the 
 delicate flattery of attention from a man like Maltravers, 
 should strongly impress the imagination, if not the heart, of 
 a susceptible girl. Already prepossessed in his favour, and 
 wholly unaccustomed to a society which combined so many 
 attractions, Evelyn regarded him with unspeakable venera- 
 tion ; to the darker shades in his character she was blind, 
 to her, indeed, they did not appear. True that once or twice 
 in mixed society his disdainful and imperious temper broke 
 hastily and harshly forth. To folly, to pretension, to pre- 
 sumption, he showed but slight forbearance. The impatient 
 smile, the biting sarcasm, the cold repulse, that might gall, 
 yet could scarce be openly resented, betrayed that he was one 
 who affected to free himself from the polished restraints of 
 social intercourse. He had once been too scrupulous in not 
 wounding vanity; he was now too indifferent to it. But if 
 sometimes this unamiable trait of character, as displayed to 
 others, chilled or startled Evelyn, the contrast of his manner 
 towards herself was a flattery too delicious not to efface all 
 other recollections. To her ear his voice always softened its 
 tone; to her capacity of mind ever bent as by sympathy, not 
 condescension ; to her the young, the timid, the half - 
 informed to her alone he did not disdain to exhibit all 
 the stores of his knowledge, all the best and brightest colours 
 of his mind. She modestly wondered at so strange a prefer- 
 ence. Perhaps a sudden and blunt compliment which Mal- 
 travers once addressed to her may explain it. One day, when 
 she had conversed more freely and more fully than usual, he 
 broke in upon her with this abrupt exclamation, 
 
 "Miss Cameron, you must have associated from your child- 
 hood with beautiful minds. I see already that from the 
 world, vile as it is, you have nothing of contagion to fear. 
 I have heard you talk on the most various matters, on many 
 of which your knowledge is imperfect; but you have never 
 uttered one mean idea, or one false sentiment. Truth seems 
 intuitive to you." 
 
 It was indeed this singular purity of heart which made to 
 the world-wearied man the chief charm in Evelyn Cameron.
 
 84 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 From this purity came, as from the heart of a poet, a thou- 
 sand new and heaven-taught thoughts which had in them a 
 wisdom of their own, thoughts that often brought the stern 
 listener back to youth, and reconciled him with life. The 
 wise Maltravers learned more from Evelyn than Evelyn did 
 from Maltravers. 
 
 There was, however, another trait deeper than that of 
 temper in Maltravers, and which was, unlike the latter, 
 more manifest to her than to others, his contempt for all 
 the things her young and fresh enthusiasm had been taught 
 to prize, the fame that endeared and hallowed him to her 
 eyes, the excitement of ambition, and its rewards. He spoke 
 with such bitter disdain of great names and great deeds. 
 " Children of a larger growth they were, " said he, one day, 
 in answer to her defence of the luminaries of their kind, 
 "allured by baubles as poor as the rattle and the doll's house. 
 How many have been made great, as the word is, by their 
 vices ! Paltry craft won command to Themistocles ; to escape 
 his duns, the profligate Caesar heads an army, and achieves his 
 laurels; Brutus, the aristocrat, stabs his patron, that patri- 
 cians might again trample on plebeians, and that posterity 
 might talk of him. The love of posthumous fame what is 
 it but as puerile a passion for notoriety as that which made a 
 Frenchman I once knew lay out two thousand pounds in 
 sugar-plums? To be talked of how poor a desire! Does 
 it matter whether it be by the gossips of this age or the 
 next? Some men are urged on to fame by poverty that is 
 an excuse for their trouble ; but there is no more nobleness in 
 the motive than in that which makes yon poor ploughman 
 sweat in the eye of Phoebus. In fact, the larger part of emi- 
 nent men, instead of being inspired by any lofty desire to 
 benefit their species or enrich the human mind, have acted or 
 composed, without any definite object beyond the satisfying a 
 restless appetite for excitement, or indulging the dreams of 
 a selfish glory. And when nobler aspirations have fired them, 
 it has too often been but to wild fanaticism and sanguinary 
 crime. What dupes of glory ever were animated by a deeper 
 faith, a higher ambition, than the frantic followers of
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 85 
 
 Mahomet, taught to believe that it was virtue to ravage 
 the earth, and that they sprang from the battle-field into 
 Paradise? Religion and liberty, love of country, what splen- 
 did motives to action ! Lo, the results, when the motives are 
 keen, the action once commenced! Behold the Inquisition, 
 the Days of Terror, the Council of Ten, and the Dungeons of 
 Venice ! " 
 
 Evelyn was scarcely fit to wrestle with these melancholy 
 fallacies ; but her instinct of truth suggested an answer. 
 
 " What would society be if all men thought as you do, and 
 acted up to the theory? No literature, no art, no glory, no 
 patriotism, no virtue, no civilization! You analyze men's 
 motives how can you be sure you judge rightly? Look to 
 the results, our benefit, our enlightenment! If the results 
 be great, Ambition is a virtue, no matter what motive awak- 
 ened it. Is it not so? " 
 
 Evelyn spoke blushingly and timidly. Maltravers, despite 
 his own tenets, was delighted with her reply. 
 
 " You reason well, " said he, with a smile. " But how are 
 we sure that the results are such as you depict them? Civili- 
 zation, enlightenment, they are vague terms, hollow sounds. 
 Never fear that the world will reason as I do. Action will 
 never be stagnant while there are such things as gold and 
 power. The vessel will move on let the galley-slaves have 
 it to themselves. What I have seen of life convinces me that 
 progress is not always improvement. Civilization has evils 
 unknown to the savage state; and vice versa. Men in all 
 states seem to have much the same proportion of happiness. 
 We judge others with eyes accustomed to dwell on our own 
 circumstances. I have seen the slave, whom we commiserate, 
 enjoy his holiday with a rapture unknown to the grave free- 
 man. I have seen that slave made free, and enriched by the 
 benevolence of his master; and he has been gay no more. 
 The masses of men in all countries are much the same. If 
 there are greater comforts in the hardy North, Providence 
 bestows a fertile earth and a glorious heaven, and a mind sus- 
 ceptible to enjoyment as flowers to light, on the voluptu- 
 ous indulgence of the Italian, or the contented apathy of the
 
 86 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Hindoo. In the mighty organization of good and evil, what 
 can we vain individuals effect? They who labour most, how 
 doubtful is their reputation ! Who shall say whether Voltaire 
 or Napoleon, Cromwell or Csesar, Walpole or Pitt, has done 
 most good or most evil? It is a question casuists may dispute 
 on. Some of us think that poets have been the delight and 
 the lights of men; another school of philosophy has treated 
 them as the corrupters of the species, panderers to the false 
 glory of war, to the effeminacies of taste, to the pampering of 
 the passions above the reason. Nay, even those who have 
 effected inventions that change the face of the earth the 
 printing-press, gunpowder, the steam-engine, men hailed 
 as benefactors by the unthinking herd, or the would-be sages, 
 have introduced ills unknown before, adulterating and often 
 counterbalancing the good. Each new improvement in ma- 
 chinery deprives hundreds of food. Civilization is the eternal 
 sacrifice of one generation to the next. An awful sense of the 
 impotence of human agencies has crushed down the sublime 
 aspirations for mankind which I once indulged. For myself, 
 I float on the great waters, without pilot or rudder, and trust 
 passively to the winds, that are the breath of God." 
 
 This conversation left a deep impression upon Evelyn; it 
 inspired her with a new interest in one in whom so many 
 noble qualities lay dulled and torpid, by the indulgence of a 
 self-sophistry, which, girl as she was, she felt wholly un- 
 worthy of his powers. And it was this error in Maltravers 
 that, levelling his superiority, brought him nearer to her 
 heart. Ah, if she could restore him to his race ! It was a 
 dangerous desire, but it intoxicated and absorbed her. 
 
 Oh, how sweetly were those fair evenings spent, the 
 evenings of happy June! And then, as Maltravers suffered 
 the children to tease him into talk about the wonders he had 
 seen in the regions far away, how did the soft and social hues 
 of his character unfold themselves ! There is in all real genius 
 so much latent playfulness of nature it almost seems as if 
 genius never could grow old. The inscriptions that youth 
 writes upon the tablets of an imaginative mind are, indeed, 
 never wholly obliterated, they are as an invisible writing,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 87 
 
 which gradually becomes clear in the light and warmth. 
 Bring genius familiarly with the young, and it is as young 
 as they are. Evelyn did not yet, therefore, observe the dis- 
 parity of years between herself and Maltravers. But the 
 disparity of knowledge and power served for the present to 
 interdict to her that sweet feeling of equality in commune, 
 without which love is rarely a very intense affection in 
 women. It is not so with men. But by degrees she grew 
 more and more familiar with her stern friend; and in that 
 familiarity there was perilous fascination to Maltravers. She 
 could laugh him at any moment out of his most moody rev- 
 eries ; contradict with a pretty wilf ulness his most favourite 
 dogmas ; nay, even scold him, with bewitching gravity, if he 
 was not always at the command of her wishes or caprice. 
 At this time it seemed certain that Maltravers would fall in 
 love with Evelyn; but it rested on more doubtful probabilities 
 whether Evelyn would fall in love with him. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONTRAHE vela, 
 Et te littoribus cymba propinqua vehat. 1 SENECA. 
 
 "HAS not Miss Cameron a beautiful countenance?" said 
 Mr. Merton to Maltravers, as Evelyn, unconscious of the 
 compliment, sat at a little distance, bending down her eyes 
 to Sophy, who was weaving daisy-chains on a stool at her 
 knee, and whom she was telling not to talk loud, for Merton 
 had been giving Maltravers some useful information respect- 
 ing the management of his estate; and Evelyn was already 
 interested in all that could interest her friend. She had one 
 excellent thing in woman, had Evelyn Cameron : despite her 
 sunny cheerfulness of temper she was quiet ; and she had 
 1 " Furl your sails, and let the next boat carry you to the shore."
 
 88 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 insensibly acquired, under the roof of her musing and silent 
 mother, the habit of never disturbing others. What a blessed 
 secret is that in the intercourse of domestic life ! 
 
 "Has not Miss Cameron a beautiful countenance? " 
 
 Maltravers started at the question, it was a literal trans- 
 lation of his own thought at that moment. He checked the 
 enthusiasm that rose to his lip, and calmly re-echoed the 
 word, 
 
 "Beautiful indeed!" 
 
 "And so sweet-tempered and unaffected; she has been 
 admirably brought up. I believe Lady Vargrave is a most 
 exemplary woman. Miss Cameron will, indeed, be a treasure 
 to her betrothed husband. He is to be envied." 
 
 "Her betrothed husband!" said Maltravers, turning very 
 pale. 
 
 "Yes; Lord Vargrave. Did you not know that she was 
 engaged to him from her childhood? It was the wish, nay, 
 command, of the late lord, who bequeathed her his vast for- 
 tune, if not on that condition, at least on that understanding. 
 Did you never hear of this before?" 
 
 While Mr. Merton spoke, a sudden recollection returned to 
 Maltravers. He had heard Lumley himself refer to the 
 engagement, but it had been in the sick chamber of Flor- 
 ence, little heeded at the time, and swept from his mind 
 by a thousand after-thoughts and scenes. Mr. Merton 
 continued, 
 
 " We expect Lord Vargrave down soon. He is an ardent 
 lover, I conclude ; but public life chains him so much to Lon- 
 don. He made an admirable speech in the Lords last night; 
 at least, our party appear to think so. They are to be mar- 
 ried when Miss Cameron attains the age of eighteen." 
 
 Accustomed to endurance, and skilled in the proud art of 
 concealing emotion, Maltravers betrayed to the eye of Mr. 
 Merton no symptom of surprise or dismay at this intelligence. 
 If the rector had conceived any previous suspicion that Mal- 
 travers was touched beyond mere admiration for beauty, the 
 suspicion would have vanished as he heard his guest coldly
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 89 
 
 " I trust Lord Vargrave may deserve his happiness. But, 
 to return to Mr. Justis ; you corroborate my own opinion of 
 that smooth-spoken gentleman." 
 
 The conversation flowed back to business. At last, Mal- 
 travers rose to depart. 
 
 "Will you not dine with us to-day?" said the hospitable 
 rector. 
 
 " Many thanks, no ; I have much business to attend to at 
 home for some days to come." 
 
 " Kiss Sophy, Mr. Ernest, Sophy very good girl to-day. 
 Let the pretty butterfly go, because Evy said it was cruel to 
 put it in a card-box; kiss Sophy." 
 
 Maltravers took the child (whose heart he had completely 
 won) in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then advancing to 
 Evelyn, he held out his hand, while his eyes were fixed upon 
 her with an expression of deep and mournful interest, which 
 she could not understand. 
 
 "God bless you, Miss Cameron," he said, and his lip 
 quivered. 
 
 Days passed, and they saw no more of Maltravers. He 
 excused himself on pretence, now of business, now of other 
 engagements, from all the invitations of the rector. Mr. 
 Merton unsuspectingly accepted the excuse; for he knew 
 that Maltravers was necessarily much occupied. 
 
 His arrival had now spread throughout the country; and 
 
 such of his equals as were still in B shire hastened to offer 
 
 congratulations, and press hospitality. Perhaps it was the 
 desire to make his excuses to Merton valid which prompted 
 the master of Burleigh to yield to the other invitations that 
 crowded on him. But this was not all, Maltravers acquired 
 in the neighbourhood the reputation of a man of business. 
 Mr. Justis was abruptly dismissed; with the help of the bailiff 
 Maltravers became his own steward. His parting address to 
 this personage was characteristic of the mingled harshness 
 and justice of Maltravers. 
 
 "Sir," said he, as they closed their accounts, "I discharge 
 you because you are a rascal, there can be no dispute about 
 that; you have plundered your owner, yet you have ground
 
 90 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 his tenants, and neglected the poor. My villages are filled 
 with paupers, my rent-roll is reduced a fourth ; and yet, while 
 some of my tenants appear to pay nominal rents (why, you 
 best know), others are screwed up higher than any man's in 
 the country. You are a rogue, Mr. Justis, your own 
 account-books show it; and if I send them to a lawyer, you 
 would have to refund a sum that I could apply very advan- 
 tageously to the rectification of your blunders." 
 
 "I hope, sir," said the steward, conscience-stricken and 
 appalled, "I hope you will not ruin me ; indeed, indeed, if 
 I was called upon to refund, I should go to jail." 
 
 " Make yourself easy, sir. It is just that I should suffer as 
 well as you. My neglect of my own duties tempted you to 
 roguery. You were honest under the vigilant eye of Mr. 
 Cleveland. Retire with your gains : if you are quite hard- 
 ened, no punishment can touch you ; if you are not, it is pun- 
 ishment enough to stand there gray-headed, with one foot in 
 the grave, and hear yourself called a rogue, and know that 
 you cannot defend yourself, go ! " 
 
 Maltravers next occupied himself in all the affairs that a 
 mismanaged estate brought upon him. He got rid of some 
 tenants, he made new arrangements with others; he called 
 labour into requisition by a variety of improvements ; he paid 
 minute attention to the poor, not in the weakness of careless 
 and indiscriminate charity, by which popularity is so cheaply 
 purchased, and independence so easily degraded, no, his main 
 care was to stimulate industry and raise hope. The ambition 
 and emulation that he so vainly denied in himself, he found 
 his most useful levers in the humble labourers whose charac- 
 ters he had studied, whose condition he sought to make them- 
 selves desire to elevate. Unconsciously his whole practice 
 began to refute his theories. The abuses of the old Poor- 
 Laws were rife in his neighbourhood; his quick penetration, 
 and perhaps his imperious habits of decision, suggested to 
 him many of the best provisions of the law now called into 
 operation ; but he was too wise to be the Philosopher Square 
 of a system. He did not attempt too much; and he recog- 
 nized one principle, which, as yet, the administrators of the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 91 
 
 new Poor-Laws have not sufficiently discovered. One main 
 ebject of the new code was, by curbing public charity, to task 
 the activity of individual benevolence. If the proprietor or 
 the clergyman find under his own eye isolated instances of 
 severity, oppression, or hardship in a general and salutary 
 law, instead of railing against the law, he ought to attend to 
 the individual instances; and private benevolence ought to 
 keep the balance of the scales even, and be the makeweight 
 wherever there is a just deficiency of national charity. 1 It 
 was this which, in the modified and discreet regulations that 
 he sought to establish on his estates, Maltravers especially 
 and pointedly attended to. Age, infirmity, temporary dis- 
 tress, unmerited destitution, found him a steady, watchful, 
 indefatigable friend. In these labours, commenced with 
 extraordinary promptitude, and the energy of a single pur- 
 pose and stern mind, Maltravers was necessarily brought into 
 contact with the neighbouring magistrates and gentry. He 
 was combating evils and advancing objects in which all were 
 interested; and his vigorous sense, and his past parliamen- 
 tary reputation, joined with the respect which in provinces 
 always attaches to ancient birth, won unexpected and general 
 favour to his views. At the rectory they heard of him con- 
 stantly, not only through occasional visitors, but through Mr. 
 Merton, who was ever thrown in his way; but he continued 
 to keep himself aloof from the house. Every one (Mr. Mer- 
 ton excepted) missed him, even Caroline, whose able though 
 worldly mind could appreciate his conversation; the children 
 mourned for their playmate, who was so much more affable 
 than their own stiff -neckclothed brothers ; and Evelyn was at 
 least more serious and thoughtful than she had ever been 
 before, and the talk of others seemed to her wearisome, trite, 
 and dull. 
 Was Maltravers happy in his new pursuits? His state of 
 
 1 The object of parochial reform is not that of economy alone ; not merely 
 to reduce poor-rates. The ratepayer ought to remember that the more he 
 wrests from the gripe of the sturdy mendicant, the more he ought to bestow 
 on undeserved distress. Without the mitigations of private virtue, every law 
 that benevolists could make would be harsh.
 
 92 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 mind at that time it is not easy to read. His masculine spirit 
 and haughty temper were wrestling hard against a feeling that 
 had been fast ripening into passion; but at night, in his soli- 
 tary and cheerless home, a vision, too exquisite to indulge, 
 would force itself upon him, till he started from the revery, 
 and said to his rebellious heart : " A few more years, and thou 
 wilt be still. What in this brief life is a pang more or less? 
 Better to have nothing to care for, so wilt thou defraud Fate, 
 thy deceitful foe ! Be contented that thou art alone ! " 
 
 Fortunate was it, then, for Maltravers, that he was in his 
 native land, not in climes where excitement is in the pursuit 
 of pleasure rather than in the exercise of duties. In the hardy 
 air of the liberal England, he was already, though unknown 
 to himself, bracing and ennobling his dispositions and desires. 
 It is the boast of this island that the slave whose foot touches 
 the soil is free. The boast may be enlarged. Where so much 
 is left to the people, where the life of civilization, not locked 
 up in the tyranny of Central Despotism, spreads, vivifying, 
 restless, ardent, through every vein of the healthful body, the 
 most distant province, the obscurest village, has claims on 
 our exertions, our duties, and forces us into energy and citi- 
 zenship. The spirit of liberty, that strikes the chain from 
 the slave, binds the freeman to his brother. This is the Relig- 
 ion of Freedom. And hence it is that the stormy struggles of 
 free States have been blessed with results of Virtue, of Wis- 
 dom, and of Genius by Him who bade us love one another, 
 not only that love in itself is excellent, but that from love, 
 which in its widest sense is but the spiritual term for liberty, 
 whatever is worthiest of our solemn nature has its birth.
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Tpaxea \eiaivfi, Travel Kopov. 
 
 Ex. SOLON: Ehg. 
 
 " Harsh things he mitigates, and pride subdues.' 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 You still are what you were, sir ! 
 
 . . . With most quick agility could turn 
 And return ; make knots and undo them, 
 Give forked counsel. Volpone, or the Fox. 
 
 BEFORE a large table, covered with parliamentary papers, 
 sat Lumley Lord Vargrave. His complexion, though still 
 healthy, had faded from the freshness of hue which distin- 
 guished him in youth. His features, always sharp, had 
 grown yet more angular: his brows seemed to project more 
 broodingly over his eyes, which, though of undiminished 
 brightness, were sunk deep in their sockets, and had lost 
 much of their quick restlessness. The character of his mind 
 had begun to stamp itself on the physiognomy, especially on 
 the mouth when in repose. It was a face striking for acute 
 intelligence, for concentrated energy; but there was a some- 
 thing written in it which said, "BEWARE!" It would have 
 inspired any one who had mixed much amongst men with a 
 vague suspicion and distrust. 
 
 Lumley had been always careful, though plain, in dress; 
 but there was now a more evident attention bestowed on his 
 person than he had ever manifested in youth, while there 
 was something of the Koman's celebrated foppery in the skill
 
 94 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 with which his hair was arranged on his high forehead, so as 
 either to conceal or relieve a partial baldness at the temples. 
 Perhaps, too, from the possession of high station, or the habit 
 of living only amongst the great, there was a certain dignity 
 insensibly diffused over his whole person that was not notice- 
 able in his earlier years, when a certain ton de garnison was 
 blended with his ease of manners. Yet, even now, dignity 
 was not his prevalent characteristic; and in ordinary occa- 
 sions, or mixed society, he still found a familiar frankness a 
 more useful species of simulation. At the time we now treat 
 of, Lord Vargrave was leaning his cheek on one hand, while 
 the other rested idly on the papers methodically arranged 
 before him. He appeared to have suspended his labours, and 
 to be occupied in thought. It was, in truth, a critical period 
 in the career of Lord Vargrave. 
 
 From the date of his accession to the peerage, the rise of 
 Lumley Ferrers had been less rapid and progressive than he 
 himself could have foreseen. At first, all was sunshine before 
 him; he had contrived to make himself useful to his party; 
 he had also made himself personally popular. To the ease 
 and cordiality of his happy address, he added the seemingly 
 careless candour so often mistaken for honesty; while, as 
 there was nothing showy or brilliant in his abilities or ora- 
 tory nothing that aspired far above the pretensions of 
 others, and aroused envy by mortifying self-love he created 
 but little jealousy even amongst the rivals before whom he 
 obtained precedence. For some time, therefore, he went 
 smoothly on, continuing to rise in the estimation of his 
 party, and commanding a certain respect from the neutral 
 public, by acknowledged and eminent talents in the details 
 of business; for his quickness of penetration, and a logical 
 habit of mind, enabled him to grapple with and generalize the 
 minutiae of official labour or of legislative enactments with a 
 masterly success. But as the road became clearer to his steps, 
 his ambition became more evident and daring. Naturally dic- 
 tatorial and presumptuous, his early suppleness to superiors 
 was now exchanged for a self-willed pertinacity, which often 
 displeased the more haughty leaders of his party, and often
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 95 
 
 wounded the more vain. His pretensions were scanned with 
 eyes more jealous and less tolerant than at first. Proud 
 aristocrats began to recollect that a mushroom peerage was 
 supported but by a scanty fortune; the men of more dazzling 
 genius began to sneer at the red-tape minister as a mere offi- 
 cial manager of details; he lost much of the personal popu- 
 larity which had been one secret of his power. But what 
 principally injured him in the eyes of his party and the public 
 were certain ambiguous and obscure circumstances connected 
 with a short period when himself and his associates were 
 thrown out of office. At this time, it was noticeable that the 
 journals of the Government that succeeded were peculiarly 
 polite to Lord Vargrave, while they covered all his coadjutors 
 with obloquy: and it was more than suspected that secret 
 negotiations between himself and the new ministry were 
 going on, when suddenly the latter broke up, and Lord 
 Vargrave's proper party were reinstated. The vague suspi- 
 cions that attached to Vargrave were somewhat strengthened 
 in the opinion of the public by the fact that he was at first 
 left out of the restored administration; and when subse- 
 quently, after a speech which showed that he could be 
 mischievous if not propitiated, he was readmitted, it was 
 precisely to the same office he had held before, an office 
 which did not admit him into the Cabinet. Lumley, burn- 
 ing with resentment, longed to decline the offer; but, alas! 
 he was poor, and, what was worse, in debt ; " his poverty, but 
 not his will, consented." He was reinstated; but though pro- 
 digiously improved as a debater, he felt that he had not 
 advanced as a public man. His ambition inflamed by his 
 discontent, he had, since his return to office, strained every 
 nerve to strengthen his position. He met the sarcasms on 
 his poverty by greatly increasing his expenditure, and by 
 advertising everywhere his engagement to an heiress whose 
 fortune, great as it was, he easily contrived to magnify. As 
 his old house in Great George Street well fitted for the 
 bustling commoner was no longer suited to the official and 
 fashionable peer, he had, on his accession to the title, ex- 
 changed that respectable residence for a large mansion in
 
 96 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Hamilton Place; and his sober dinners were succeeded by 
 splendid banquets. Naturally, he had no taste for such 
 things ; his mind was too nervous, and his temper too hard, 
 to take pleasure in luxu ry or ostentation. But now, as ever 
 he acted upon a system. Living in a country governed by the 
 mightiest and wealthiest aristocracy in the world, which, 
 from the first class almost to the lowest, ostentation per- 
 vades, the very backbone and marrow of society, he felt 
 that to fall far short of his rivals in display was to give them 
 an advantage which he could not compensate either by the 
 power of his connections or the surpassing loftiness of his 
 character and genius. Playing for a great game, and with 
 his eyes open to all the consequences, he cared not for involv- 
 ing his private fortunes in a lottery in which a great prize 
 might be drawn. To do Vargrave justice, money with him 
 had never been an object, but a means ; he was grasping, but 
 not avaricious. If men much richer than Lord Vargrave find 
 State distinctions very expensive, and often ruinous, it is not 
 to be supposed that his salary, joined to so moderate a pri- 
 vate fortune, could support the style in which he lived. His 
 income was already deeply mortgaged, and debt accumulated 
 upon debt. Nor had this man, so eminent for the manage- 
 ment of public business, any of that talent which springs from 
 justice, and makes its possessor a skilful manager of his own 
 affairs. Perpetually absorbed in intrigues and schemes, he 
 was too much engaged in cheating others on a large scale to 
 have time to prevent being himself cheated on a small one. 
 He never looked into bills till he was compelled to pay them ; 
 and he never calculated the amount of an expense that seemed 
 the least necessary to his purposes. But still Lord Vargrave 
 relied upon his marriage with the wealthy Evelyn to relieve 
 him from all his embarrassments ; and if a doubt of the real- 
 ization of that vision ever occurred to him, still public life 
 had splendid prizes. Nay, should he fail with Miss Cameron, 
 he even thought that, by good management, he might ulti- 
 mately make it worth while to his colleagues to purchase his 
 absence with the gorgeous bribe of the Governor-Generalship 
 of India.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 97 
 
 As oratory is an art in which practice and the dignity of 
 station produce marvellous improvement, so Lumley had 
 of late made effects in the House of Lords of which he had 
 once been judged incapable. It is true that no practice and 
 no station can give men qualities in which they are wholly 
 deficient; but these advantages can bring out in the best light 
 all the qualities they do possess. The glow of a generous 
 imagination, the grasp of a profound statesmanship, the en- 
 thusiasm of a noble nature, these no practice could educe 
 from the eloquence of Lumley Lord Vargrave, for he had 
 them not; but bold wit, fluent and vigorous sentences, effec- 
 tive arrangement of parliamentary logic, readiness of retort, 
 plausibility of manner, aided by a delivery peculiar for self- 
 possession and ease, a clear and ringing voice (to the only fault 
 of which, shrillness without passion, the ear of the audience 
 had grown accustomed), and a countenance impressive from its 
 courageous intelligence, all these had raised the promising 
 speaker into the matured excellence of a nervous and formid- 
 able debater. But precisely as he rose in the display of his 
 talents, did he awaken envies and enmities hitherto dormant. 
 And it must be added that, with all his craft and coldness, 
 Lord Vargrave was often a very dangerous and mischievous 
 speaker for the interests of his party. His colleagues had 
 often cause to tremble when he rose: nay, even when the 
 cheers of his own faction shook the old tapestried walls. A 
 man who has no sympathy with the public must commit many 
 and fatal indiscretions when the public, as well as his audi- 
 ence, is to be his judge. Lord Vargrave's utter incapacity to 
 comprehend political morality, his contempt for all the objects 
 of social benevolence, frequently led him into the avowal of 
 doctrines, which, if they did not startle the men of the world 
 whom he addressed (smoothed away, as such doctrines were, 
 by speciousness of manner and delivery), created deep disgust 
 in those even of his own politics who read their naked exposi- 
 tion in the daily papers. Never did Lord Vargrave utter one 
 of those generous sentiments which, no matter whether pro- 
 pounded by Radical or Tory, sink deep into the heart of the 
 people, and do lasting service to the cause they adorn. But no 
 man defended an abuse, however glaring, with a more vigor- 
 
 7
 
 98 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ous championship, or hurled defiance upon a popular demand 
 with a more courageous scorn. In some times, when the anti- 
 popular principle is strong, such a leader may be useful; but 
 at the moment of which we treat he was a most equivocal 
 auxiliary. A considerable proportion of the ministers, headed 
 by the premier himself, a man of wise views and unimpeach- 
 able honour, had learned to view Lord Vargrave with dislike 
 and distrust. They might have sought to get rid of him; but 
 he was not one whom slight mortifications could induce to 
 retire of his own accord, nor was the sarcastic and bold de- 
 bater a person whose resentment and opposition could be 
 despised. Lord Vargrave, moreover, had secured a party of 
 his own, a party more formidable than himself. He went 
 largely into society; he was the special favourite of the female 
 diplomats, whose voices at that time were powerful suffrages, 
 and with whom, by a thousand links of gallantry and intrigue, 
 the agreeable and courteous minister formed a close alliance. 
 All that salons could do for him was done. Added to this, he 
 was personally liked by his royal master; and the Court gave 
 him their golden opinions; while the poorer, the corrupter, 
 and the more bigoted portion of the ministry regarded him 
 with avowed admiration. 
 
 In the House of Commons, too, and in the bureaucracy, he 
 had no inconsiderable strength ; for Lumley never contracted 
 the habits of personal abruptness and discourtesy common to 
 men in power who wish to keep applicants aloof. He was 
 bland and conciliating to all men of ranks; his intellect and 
 self-complacency raised him far above the petty jealousies 
 that great men feel for rising men. Did any tyro earn the 
 smallest distinction in parliament, no man sought his ac- 
 quaintance so eagerly as Lord Vargrave; no man compli- 
 mented, encouraged, " brought on " the new aspirants of his 
 party with so hearty a good will. 
 
 Such a minister could not fail of having devoted followers 
 among the able, the ambitious, and the vain. It must also be 
 confessed that Lord Vargrave neglected no baser and less jus- 
 tifiable means to cement his power by placing it on the sure 
 rock of self-interest. No jobbing was too gross for him. He 
 was shamefully corrupt in the disposition of his patronage;
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 99 
 
 and no rebuffs, no taunts from his official brethren, could 
 restrain him from urging the claims of any of his creatures 
 upon the public purse. His followers regarded this charitable 
 selfishness as the stanchness and zeal of friendship; and the 
 ambition of hundreds was wound up in the ambition of the 
 unprincipled minister. 
 
 But besides the notoriety of his public corruption, Lord 
 Vargrave was secretly suspected by some of personal dishon- 
 esty, suspected of selling his State information to stock- 
 jobbers, of having pecuniary interests in some of the claims 
 he urged with so obstinate a pertinacity. And though there 
 was not the smallest evidence of such utter abandonment of 
 honour, though it was probably but a calumnious whisper, 
 yet the mere suspicion of such practices served to sharpen the 
 aversion of his enemies, and justify the disgust of his rivals. 
 
 In this position now stood Lord Vargrave: supported by 
 interested, but able and powerful partisans; hated in the 
 country, feared by some of those with whom he served, 
 despised by others, looked up to by the rest. It was a 
 situation that less daunted than delighted him; for it seemed 
 to render necessary and excuse the habits of scheming and 
 manoeuvre which were so genial to his crafty and plotting 
 temper. Like an ancient Greek, his spirit loved intrigue for 
 intrigue's sake. Had it led to no end, it would still have 
 been sweet to him as a means. He rejoiced to surround him- 
 self with the most complicated webs and meshes; to sit in the 
 centre of a million plots. He cared not how rash and wild 
 some of them were. He relied on his own ingenuity, promp- 
 titude, and habitual good fortune to make every spring he 
 handled conducive to the purpose of the machine SELF. 
 
 His last visit to Lady Vargrave, and his conversation with 
 Evelyn, had left on his mind much dissatisfaction and fear. 
 In the earlier years of his intercourse with Evelyn, his good 
 humour, gallantry, and presents had not failed to attach the 
 child to the agreeable and liberal visitor she had been taught 
 to regard as a relation. It was only as she grew up to woman- 
 hood, and learned to comprehend the nature of the tie between 
 them, that she shrank from his familiarity, and then only had
 
 100 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 lie learned to doubt of the fulfilment of his uncle's wish. The 
 last visit had increased this doubt to a painful apprehension. 
 He saw that he was not loved ; he saw that it required great 
 address, and the absence of happier rivals, to secure to him 
 the hand of Evelyn; and he cursed the duties and the schemes 
 which necessarily kept him from her side. He had thought 
 of persuading Lady Vargrave to let her come to London, 
 where he could be ever at hand; and as the season was now 
 set in, his representations on this head would appear sensible 
 and just. But then again this was to incur greater dangers 
 than those he would avoid. London ! a beauty and an heir- 
 ess, in her first debut in London! What formidable admirers 
 would flock around her ! Vargrave shuddered to think of the 
 gay, handsome, well-dressed, seductive young ttegans, who 
 might seem, to a girl of seventeen, suitors far more fascinat- 
 ing than the middle-aged politician. This was perilous ; nor 
 was this all : Lord Vargrave knew that in London gaudy, 
 babbling, and remorseless London all that he could most 
 wish to conceal from the young ladj r would be dragged to day. 
 He had been the lover, not of one, but of a dozen women, for 
 whom he did not care three straws, but whose favour had 
 served to strengthen him in society, or whose influence made 
 up for his own want of hereditary political connections. The 
 manner in which he contrived to shake off these various 
 Ariadnes, whenever it was advisable, was not the least strik- 
 ing proof of his diplomatic abilities. He never left them 
 enemies. According to his own solution of the mystery, he 
 took care never to play the gallant with Dulcineas under a 
 certain age. "Middle-aged women," he was wont to say, "are 
 very little different from middle-aged men; they see things 
 sensibly, and take things coolly." Now Evelyn could not be 
 three weeks, perhaps three days, in London, without learning 
 of one or the other of these liaisons. What an excuse, if she 
 sought one, to break with him! Altogether, Lord Vargrave 
 was sorely perplexed, but not despondent. Evelyn's fortune 
 was more than ever necessary to him, and Evelyn he was 
 resolved to obtain since to that fortune she was an indispensa- 
 ble appendage.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 101 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 You shall be Horace, and Tibullus I. POPE. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE was disturbed from his revery by the 
 entrance of the Earl of Saxingham. 
 
 " You are welcome ! " said Lumley, " welcome ! the very 
 man I wished to see." 
 
 Lord Saxingham, who was scarcely altered since we met 
 with him in the last series of this work, except that he had 
 grown somewhat paler and thinner, and that his hair had 
 changed from iron-gray to snow-white, threw himself in the 
 armchair beside Lumley, and replied, 
 
 "Vargrave, it is really unpleasant, our finding ourselves 
 always thus controlled by our own partisans. I do not 
 understand this new-fangled policy, this squaring of meas- 
 ures to please the Opposition, and throwing sops to that 
 many-headed monster called Public Opinion. I am sure it 
 will end most mischievously." 
 
 " I am satisfied of it," returned Lord Vargrave. "All vigour 
 
 and union seem to have left us ; and if they carry the 
 
 question against us, I know not what is to be done." 
 
 " For my part, I shall resign, " said Lord Saxingham, dog- 
 gedly; "it is the only alternative left to men of honour." 
 
 "You are wrong; I know another alternative." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " Make a Cabinet of our own. Look ye, my dear lord ; you 
 have been ill-used ; your high character, your long experience, 
 are treated with contempt. It is an affront to you the situa- 
 tion you hold. You, Privy Seal! you ought to be Premier; 
 ay, and, if you are ruled by me, Premier you shall be yet." 
 
 Lord Saxingham coloured, and breathed hard. 
 
 "You have often hinted at this before, Lumley; but you are 
 so partial, so friendly."
 
 102 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Not at all. You saw the leading article in the 
 
 to-day? That will be followed up by two evening papers 
 within five hours of this time. We have strength with the 
 Press, with the Commons, with the Court, only let us hold 
 
 fast together. This question, by which they hope to get 
 
 rid of us, shall destroy them. You shall be Prime Minister 
 before the year is over by Heaven, you shall ! and then, I 
 suppose, / too may be admitted to the Cabinet ! " 
 
 "But how? how, Lumley? You are too rash, too 
 daring." 
 
 "It has not been my fault hitherto, but boldness is 
 caution in our circumstances. If they throw us out now, I 
 see the inevitable march of events, we shall be out for 
 years, perhaps for life. The Cabinet will recede more and 
 more from our principles, our party. Now is the time for a 
 determined stand; now can we make or mar ourselves. I 
 will not resign; the king is with us; our strength shall be 
 known. These haughty imbeciles shall fall into the trap they 
 have dug for us." 
 
 Lumley spoke warmly, and with the confidence of a mind 
 firmly assured of success. Lord Saxingham was moved; 
 bright visions flashed across him, the premiership, a duke- 
 dom. Yet he was old and childless, and his honours would 
 die with the last lord of Saxingham ! 
 
 "See," continued Lumley, "I have calculated our resources 
 as accurately as an electioneering agent would cast up the list 
 
 of voters. In the Press, I have secured and , and 
 
 in the Commons we have the subtle , and the vigour of 
 
 , and the popular name of , and all the boroughs of 
 
 ; in the Cabinet we have , and at Court you know 
 
 our strength. Let us choose our moment; a sudden coup, an 
 interview with the king, statement of our conscientious scru- 
 ples to this atrocious measure. I know the vain, stiff mind 
 of the premier; he will lose temper, he will tender his resig- 
 nation; to his astonishment, it will be accepted. You will 
 be sent for ; we will dissolve parliament ; we will strain every 
 nerve in the elections; we shall succeed, I know we shall. 
 But be silent in the meanwhile, be cautious : let not a word
 
 ALICE; OR, THE" MYSTERIES. 103 
 
 escape you, let them think us beaten ; lull suspicion asleep ; 
 let us lament our weakness, and hint, only hint at our resig- 
 nation, but with assurances of continued support. I know 
 how to blind them, if you leave it to me." 
 
 The weak mind of the old earl was as a puppet in the hands 
 of his bold kinsman. He feared one moment, hoped another; 
 now his ambition was nattered, now his sense of honour was 
 alarmed. There was something in Lumley's intrigue to oust 
 the government with which he served that had an appearance 
 of cunning and baseness, of which Lord Saxinghaui, whose 
 personal character was high, by no means approved. But 
 Vargrave talked him over with consummate address, and 
 when they parted, the earl carried his head two inches 
 higher, he was preparing himself for his rise in life. 
 
 " That is well ! that is well ! " said Lumley, rubbing his 
 hands when he was left alone : " the old driveller will be my 
 locum tenens, till years and renown enable me to become his 
 successor. Meanwhile, I shall be really what he will be in 
 name." 
 
 Here Lord Vargrave 's well-fed servant, now advanced to 
 the dignity of own gentleman and house-steward, entered the 
 room with a letter ; it had a portentous look ; it was waf ered, 
 the paper was blue, the hand clerklike, there was no envelope ; 
 it bore its infernal origin on the face of it, IT WAS A DUN'S. 
 
 Lumley opened the epistle with an impatient pshaw ! The 
 man, a silversmith (Lumley's plate was much admired!) had 
 applied for years in vain; the amount was large, and execu- 
 tion was threatened ! An execution ! it is a trifle to a rich 
 man; but no trifle to one suspected of being poor, one strain- 
 ing at that very moment at so high an object, one to whom 
 public opinion was so necessary, one who knew that nothing 
 but his title, and scarcely that, saved him from the reputa- 
 tion of an adventurer! He must again have recourse to the 
 money-lenders, his small estate was long since too deeply 
 mortgaged to afford new security. Usury, usury, again! 
 he knew its price, and he sighed but what was to be done? 
 
 "It is but for a few months, a few months, and Evelyn 
 must be mine. Saxingham has already lent me what he can;
 
 104 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 but he is embarrassed. This d d office, what a tax it is ! and 
 the rascals say we are too well paid ! I, too, who could live 
 happy in a garret, if this purse-proud England would but 
 allow one to exist within one's income. My fellow-trustee, 
 the banker, my uncle's old correspondent ah, well thought 
 of! He knows the conditions of the will; he knows that, at 
 the worst, I must have thirty thousand pounds, if I live a few 
 months longer. I will go to him." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 ANIMUM nunc hoc celerem, nimc dividit illuc. 1 VIRGIL. 
 
 THE late Mr. Templeton had been a banker in a provincial 
 town, which was the centre of great commercial and agricul- 
 tural activity and enterprise. He had made the bulk of his 
 fortune in the happy days of paper currency and war. Be- 
 sides his country bank he had a considerable share in a met- 
 ropolitan one of some eminence. At the time of his marriage 
 with the present Lady Vargrave he retired altogether from 
 business, and never returned to the place in which his wealth 
 had been amassed. He had still kept up a familiar acquaint- 
 ance with the principal and senior partner of the metropolitan 
 bank I have referred to ; for he was a man who always loved 
 to talk about money matters with those who understood them. 
 This gentleman, Mr. Gustavus Douce, had been named, with 
 Lumley, joint trustee to Evelyn's fortune. They had full 
 powers to invest it in whatever stock seemed most safe or 
 advantageous. The trustees appeared well chosen, as one, 
 being destined to share the fortune, would have the deepest 
 interest in its security; and the other, from his habits and 
 profession, would be a most excellent adviser. 
 
 Of Mr. Douce, Lord Vargrave had seen but little; they 
 
 1 "Now this, now that, distracts the active mind."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 105 
 
 were not thrown together. But Lord Vargrave, who thought 
 every rich man might, some time or other, become a desirable 
 acquaintance, regularly asked him once every year to dinner; 
 and twice in return he had dined with Mr. Douce, in one of 
 the most splendid villas, and off some of the most splendid 
 plate it had ever been his fortune to witness and to envy ! 
 so that the little favour he was about to ask was but a slight 
 return for Lord Vargrave's condescension. 
 
 He found the banker in his private sanctum, his carriage 
 at the door; for it was just four o'clock, an hour in which 
 Mr. Douce regularly departed to Caserta, as his aforesaid 
 villa was somewhat affectedly styled. 
 
 Mr. Douce was a small man, a nervous man; he did not 
 seem quite master of his own limbs : when he bowed he seemed 
 to be making you a present of his legs ; when he sat down, he 
 twitched first on one side, then on the other, thrust his hands 
 into his pockets, then took them out, and looked at them, as 
 if in astonishment, then seized upon a pen, by which they 
 were luckily provided with incessant occupation. Mean- 
 while, there was what might fairly be called a constant 
 play of countenance: first he smiled, then looked grave; now 
 raised his eyebrows, till they rose like rainbows, to the hori- 
 zon of his pale, straw-coloured hair; and next darted them 
 down, like an avalanche, over the twinkling, restless, flutter- 
 ing, little blue eyes, which then became almost invisible. 
 Mr. Douce had, in fact, all the appearance of a painfully 
 shy man, which was the more strange, as he had the reputa- 
 tion of enterprise, and even audacity, in the business of his 
 profession, and was fond of the society of the great. 
 
 "I have called on you, my dear sir," said Lord Vargrave, 
 after the preliminary salutations, "to ask a little favour, 
 which, if the least inconvenient, have no hesitation in refus- 
 ing. You know how I am situated with regard to my ward, 
 Miss Cameron; in a few months I hope she will be Lady 
 Vargrave." 
 
 Mr. Douce showed three small teeth, which were all that, 
 in the front of his mouth, fate had left him ; and then, as if 
 alarmed at the indelicacy of a smile upon such a subject,
 
 106 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 pushed back his chair, and twitched up his blotting-paper- 
 coloured trousers. 
 
 " Yes, in a few months I hope she will be Lady Vargrave ; 
 and you know then, Mr. Douce, that I shall be in no want of 
 money." 
 
 " I hope that is to say, I am sure, that I trust that 
 never will be the ca-ca-case with your lordship," put in Mr. 
 Douce, with timid hesitation. Mr. Douce, in addition to his 
 other good qualities, stammered much in the delivery of his 
 sentences. 
 
 "You are very kind, but it is the case just at present; I 
 have great need of a few thousand pounds upon my personal 
 security. My estate is already a little mortgaged, and I don't 
 wish to encumber it more; besides, the loan would be merely 
 temporary. You know that if at the age of eighteen Miss 
 Cameron refuses me (a supposition out of the question, but in 
 business we must calculate on improbabilities), I claim the 
 forfeit she incurs, thirty thousand pounds; you remember." 
 
 " Oh, yes that is upon my word I I don't exactly 
 
 but your lord 1-1-1-lord-lordship knows best I have 
 been so so busy I forget the exact hem hem ! " 
 
 " If you just turn to the will you will see it is as I say. 
 Now, could you conveniently place a few thousands to my 
 account, just for a short time? But I see you don't like it. 
 Never mind, I can get it elsewhere; only, as you were my 
 poor uncle's friend " 
 
 "Your lord H-1-lordship is quite mistaken," said Mr. 
 Douce, with trembling agitation ; " upon my word, yes, a few 
 thou-thou-thousands to be sure to be sure. Your lord- 
 ship's banker is is " 
 
 " Drummond disagreeable people by no means obliging. 
 I shall certainly change to your house when my accounts are 
 better worth keeping." 
 
 " You do me great great honour; I will just step step 
 
 step out for a moment and and speak to Mr. Dobs ; 
 not but what you may depend on. Excuse me ! ' Morning 
 Chron-chron-Chronicle, ' my lord ! " 
 
 Mr. Douce rose, as if by galvanism, and ran out of the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 107 
 
 room, spinning round as he ran, to declare, again and again, 
 that he would not be gone a moment. 
 
 " Good little fellow, that very like an electrified frog ! " 
 murmured Vargrave, as he took up the "Morning Chronicle," 
 so especially pointed out to his notice; and turning to the 
 leading article, read a very eloquent attack on himself. 
 Lumley was thick-skinned on such matters; he liked to 
 be attacked, it showed that he was up in the world. 
 
 Presently Mr. Douce returned. To Lord Vargrave's amaze- 
 ment and delight, he was informed that 10,000 would be 
 immediately lodged with Messrs. Drurnmond. His bill of 
 promise to pay in three months five per cent interest was 
 quite sufficient. Three months was a short date; but the bill 
 could be renewed on the same terms, from quarter to quarter, 
 till quite convenient to his lordship to pay. "Would Lord 
 Vargrave do him the honour to dine with him at Caserta next 
 Monday?" 
 
 Lord Vargrave tried to affect apathy at his sudden accession 
 of ready money, but really it almost turned his head; he griped 
 both Mr. Douce's thin, little shivering hands, and was speech- 
 less with gratitude and ecstasy. The sum, which doubled the 
 utmost he expected, would relieve him from all his immediate 
 embarrassments. When he recovered his voice, he thanked 
 his dear Mr. Douce with a warmth that seemed to make the 
 little man shrink into a nutshell ; and assured him that he 
 would dine with him every Monday in the year if he was 
 asked! He then longed to depart; but he thought, justly, 
 that to go as soon as he had got what he wanted would look 
 selfish. Accordingly, he reseated himself, and so did Mr. 
 Douce, and the conversation turned upon politics and news; 
 but Mr. Douce, who seemed to regard all things with a com- 
 mercial eye, contrived, Vargrave hardly knew how, to veer 
 round from the change in the French ministry to the state of 
 the English money-market. 
 
 " It really is, indeed, my lord I say it, I am sure, with 
 concern, a very bad ti-ti-ti-ti-time for men in business, 
 indeed, for all men; such poor interest in the English fu-fun- 
 funds, and yet speculations are so unsound. I recommended
 
 108 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 my friend Sir Giles Grimsby to to invest some money in 
 the American canals; a most rare res-res-respons-reponsi- 
 bility, I may say, for me; I am cautious in in recommend- 
 ing but Sir Giles was an old friend, con-con-connection, 
 I may say; but most providentially, all turned out that is 
 fell out as I was sure it would, thirty per cent, and 
 the value of the sh-sh-sh-shares doubled. But such things 
 are very rare, quite godsends, I may say ! " 
 
 "Well, Mr. Douce, whenever I have money to lay out, I 
 must come and consult you." 
 
 "I shall be most happy at all times to to advise your 
 lordship ; but it is not a thing I 'm very fond of. There 's 
 Miss Cameron's fortune quite 1-1-locked up, three per cents 
 and exchequer bills; why, it might have been a mil-mil-mill- 
 ion by this ti-ti-time, if the good old gentleman I beg par- 
 don old old nobleman, my poor dear friend, had been 
 now alive! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Lumley, greedily, and pricking up his 
 ears ; " he was a good manager, my uncle ! " 
 
 " None better, none better. I may say a genius for busi 
 hem hem! Miss Cameron a young woman of bus-bus-busi- 
 ness, my lord?" 
 
 ''Not much of that, I fear. A million, did you say? " 
 
 "At least! indeed, at least money so scarce, specula- 
 tion so sure in America; great people the Americans, rising 
 people, gi-gi-giants giants ! " 
 
 " I am wasting your whole morning, too bad in me, " said 
 Vargrave, as the clock struck five; "the Lords meet this even- 
 ing, important business ; once more a thousand thanks to 
 you; good day." 
 
 "A very good day to you, my lord; don't mention it; glad 
 at any time to ser-ser-serve you," said Mr. Douce, fidgeting, 
 curveting, and prancing round Lord Vargrave, as the latter 
 walked through the outer office to the carriage. 
 
 "Not a step more; you will catch cold. Good-by on 
 Monday, then, seven o'clock. The House of Lords." 
 
 And Lumley threw himself back in his carriage in high 
 spirits.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 109 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OCBLI de Tullie, et brave du Senat.i 
 
 VOLTAIRE : Brutus, Actii. sc. 1. 
 
 IN the Lords that evening the discussion was animated and 
 prolonged, it was the last party debate of the session. The 
 astute Opposition did not neglect to bring prominently, though 
 incidentally, forward the question on which it was whispered 
 that there existed some growing difference in the Cabinet. 
 Lord Vargrave rose late. His temper was excited by the 
 good fortune of his day's negotiation; he felt himself of more 
 importance than usual, as a needy man is apt to do when he 
 has got a large sum at his banker's ; moreover, he was exas- 
 perated by some personal allusions to himself, which had 
 been delivered by a dignified old lord who dated his family 
 from the ark, and was as rich as Croesus. Accordingly, Var- 
 grave spoke with more than his usual vigour. His first sen- 
 tences were welcomed with loud cheers ; he warmed, he grew 
 vehement, he uttered the most positive and unalterable senti- 
 ments upon the question alluded to, he greatly transgressed 
 the discretion which the heads of his party were desirous to 
 maintain, instead of conciliating without compromising, he 
 irritated, galled, and compromised. The angry cheers of the 
 opposite party were loudly re-echoed by the cheers of the more 
 hot-headed on his own side. The premier and some of his 
 colleagues observed, however, a moody silence. The premier 
 once took a note, and then reseated himself, and drew his hat 
 more closely over his brows. It was an ominous sign for 
 Lumley; but he was looking the Opposition in the face, and 
 did not observe it. He sat down in triumph; he had made a 
 most effective and a most mischievous speech, a combina- 
 tion extremely common. The leader of the Opposition replied 
 
 1 " Forgotten by Tully and bullied by the Senate."
 
 110 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 to him with bitter calmness; and when citing some of his 
 sharp sentences, he turned to the premier, and asked, "Are 
 these opinions those also of the noble lord? I call for a 
 reply, I have a right to demand a reply," Lumley was star- 
 tled to hear the tone in which his chief uttered the compre- 
 hensive and significant "Hear, hear! " 
 
 At midnight the premier wound up the debate; his speech 
 was short, and characterized by moderation. He came to 
 the question put to him. The House was hushed, you 
 might have heard a pin drop; the Commoners behind the 
 throne pressed forward with anxiety and eagerness on their 
 countenances. 
 
 "I am called upon," said the minister, "to declare if those 
 sentiments, uttered by my noble friend, are mine also, as the 
 chief adviser of the Crown. My lords, in the heat of debate 
 every word is not to be scrupulously weighed, and rigidly 
 interpreted." ("Hear, hear," ironically from the Opposition, 
 approvingly from the Treasury benches.) "My noble friend 
 will doubtless be anxious to explain what he intended to say. 
 1 hope, nay, I doubt not, that his explanation will be satisfac- 
 tory to the noble lord, to the House, and to the country; but 
 since I am called upon for a distinct reply to a distinct inter- 
 rogatory, I will say at once, that if those sentiments be rightly 
 interpreted by the noble lord who spoke last, those sentiments 
 are not mine, and will never animate the conduct of any cabi- 
 net of which I am a member." (Long-continued cheering 
 from the Opposition.) "At the same time, I am convinced 
 that my noble friend's meaning has not been rightly con- 
 strued; and till T hear from himself to the contrary, I will 
 venture to state what I think he designed to convey to your 
 lordships." Here the premier, with a tact that nobody could 
 be duped by, but every one could admire, stripped Lord 
 Vargrave's unlucky sentences of every syllable that could 
 give offence to any one; and left the pointed epigrams 
 and vehement denunciations a most harmless arrangement 
 of commonplace. 
 
 The House was much excited; there was a call for Lord 
 Vargrave, and Lord Vargrave promptly rose. It was one of
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. Ill 
 
 those dilemmas out of which Lumley was just the man to 
 extricate himself with address. There was so much manly 
 frankness in his manner, there was so much crafty subtlety 
 in his mind! He complained, with proud and honest bitter- 
 ness, of the construction that had been forced upon his words 
 by the Opposition. "If," he added (and no man knew better 
 the rhetorical effect of the tu quoque form of argument), " if 
 every sentence uttered by the noble lord opposite in his zeal 
 for liberty had, in days now gone by, been construed with 
 equal rigour, or perverted with equal ingenuity, that noble 
 lord had long since been prosecuted as an incendiary, perhaps 
 executed as a traitor ! " Vehement cheers from the ministerial 
 benches; cries of "Order! " from the Opposition. A military 
 lord rose to order, and appealed to the Woolsack. 
 
 Lumley sat down as if chafed at the interruption ; he had 
 produced the effect he had desired, he had changed the pub- 
 lic question at issue into a private quarrel; a new excitement 
 was created; dust was thrown into the eyes of the House. 
 Several speakers rose to accommodate matters ; and after half - 
 an-hour of public time had been properly wasted, the noble 
 lord on the one side and the noble lord on the other duly 
 explained, paid each other the highest possible compliments, 
 and Lumley was left to conclude his vindication, which now 
 seemed a comparatively flat matter after the late explosion. 
 He completed his task so as to satisfy, apparently, all parties 
 for all parties were now tired of the thing, and wanted to 
 go to bed. But the next morning there were whispers about 
 the town, articles in the different papers, evidently by author- 
 ity, rejoicings among the Opposition, and a general feeling 
 that though the Government might keep together that session, 
 its dissensions would break out before the next meeting of 
 parliament. 
 
 As Lumley was wrapping himself in his cloak after this 
 stormy debate, the Marquess of Raby a peer of large pos- 
 sessions, and one who entirely agreed with Lumley 's views 
 came up to him, and proposed that they should go home to- 
 gether in Lord Kaby's carriage. Vargrave willingly con- 
 sented, and dismissed his own servants.
 
 112 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " You did that admirably, my dear Vargrave ! " said Lord 
 Raby, when they were seated in the carriage. " I quite coin- 
 cide in all your sentiments; I declare my blood boiled when I 
 
 heard [the premier] appear half inclined to throw you 
 
 over. Your hit upon was first-rate, he will not get 
 
 over it for a month; and you extricated yourself well." 
 
 " I am glad you approve my conduct, it comforts me," said 
 Vargrave, feelingly; "at the same time I see all the conse- 
 quences; but I can brave all for the sake of character and 
 conscience." 
 
 "I feel just as you do!" replied Lord Raby, with some 
 
 warmth; "and if I thought that meant to yield to this 
 
 question, I should certainly oppose his administration." 
 
 Vargrave shook his head, and held his tongue, which gave 
 Lord Raby a high idea of his discretion. 
 
 After a few more observations on political matters, Lord 
 Raby invited Lumley to pay him a visit at his country-seat. 
 
 "I am going to Knaresdean next Monday; you know we 
 have races in the park, and really they are sometimes good 
 sport; at all events, it is a very pretty sight. There will be 
 nothing in the Lords now, the recess is just at hand; and 
 if you can spare the time, Lady Raby and myself will be 
 delighted to see you." 
 
 " You may be sure, my dear lord, I cannot refuse your invi- 
 tation; indeed, I intended to visit your county next week. 
 You know, perhaps, a Mr. Merton." 
 
 "Charles Merton? to be sure; most respectable man, cap- 
 ital fellow, the best parson in the county, no cant, but thor- 
 oughly orthodox; he certainly keeps in his brother, who, 
 though a very active member, is what I call a waverer on 
 certain questions. Have you known Merton long? " 
 
 "I don't know him at all as yet; my acquaintance is with 
 his wife and daughter, a very fine girl, by the by. My 
 ward, Miss Cameron, is staying with them." 
 
 "Miss Cameron! Cameron ah, I understand. I think I 
 have heard that But gossip does not always tell the truth ! " 
 
 Lumley smiled significantly, and the carriage now stopped 
 at his door.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 113 
 
 "Perhaps you will take a seat in our carriage on Monday? " 
 said Lord Raby. 
 
 " Monday? Unhappily I am engaged; but on Tuesday your 
 lordship may expect me." 
 
 "Very well; the races begin on Wednesday: we shall have 
 a full house. Good-night." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 HOMDNCCLI quanti sunt, cum recogito. 1 PLAUTUS. 
 
 IT is obvious that for many reasons we must be brief upon 
 the political intrigue in which the scheming spirit of Lord 
 Vargrave was employed. It would, indeed, be scarcely possi- 
 ble to preserve the necessary medium between too plain a rev- 
 elation and too complex a disguise. It suffices, therefore, 
 very shortly to repeat what the reader has already gathered 
 from what has gone before ; namely, that the question at issue 
 was one which has happened often enough in all governments, 
 one on which the Cabinet was divided, and in which the 
 weaker party was endeavouring to out-trick the stronger. 
 
 The malcontents, foreseeing that sooner or later the head 
 of the gathering must break, were again divided among them- 
 selves whether to resign, or to stay in and strive to force a 
 resignation on their dissentient colleagues. The richer and 
 the more honest were for the former course; the poorer and 
 the more dependent for the latter. We have seen that the 
 latter policy was that espoused and recommended by Var- 
 grave, who, though not in the Cabinet, always contrived 
 somehow or other to worm out its secrets. At the same 
 time he by no means rejected the other string to his bow. 
 If it were possible so to arrange and to strengthen his fac- 
 tion, that, by the coup d'ttat of a sudden resignation in a 
 formidable body, the whole Government might be broken up, 
 
 1 " When I reflect, how great your little men are in their own 
 consideration ! " 
 
 8
 
 114 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and a new one formed from among the resignees, it would 
 obviously be the best plan. But then Lord Vargrave was 
 doubtful of his own strength, and fearful to play into the 
 hands of his colleagues, who might be able to stand even 
 better without himself and his allies, and by conciliating the 
 Opposition take a step onward in political movement, which 
 might leave Vargrave placeless and powerless for years to 
 come. 
 
 He repented his own rashness in the recent debate, which 
 was, indeed, a premature boldness that had sprung out of 
 momentary excitement for the craftiest orator must be 
 indiscreet sometimes. He spent the next few days in alter- 
 nately seeking to explain away to one party, and to sound, 
 unite, and consolidate the other. His attempts in the one 
 quarter were received by the premier with the cold politeness 
 of an offended but careful statesman, who believed just as 
 much as he chose, and preferred taking his own opportunity 
 for a breach with a subordinate to risking any imprudence 
 by the gratification of resentment. In the last quarter, the 
 penetrating adventurer saw that his ground was more insecure 
 than he had anticipated. He perceived in dismay and secret 
 rage that many of those most loud in his favour while he was 
 with the Government would desert him the soonest if thrown 
 Out. Liked as a subordinate minister, he was viewed with 
 very different eyes the moment it was a question whether, 
 instead of cheering his sentiments, men should trust them- 
 selves to his guidance. Some did not wish to displease the 
 Government; others did not seek to weaken but to correct 
 them. One of his stanchest allies in the Commons was a can- 
 didate for a peerage; another suddenly remembered that he 
 was second cousin to the premier. Some laughed at the idea 
 of a puppet premier in Lord Saxingham; others insinuated to 
 Vargrave that he himself was not precisely of that standing 
 in the country which would command respect to a new party, 
 of which, if not the head, he would be the mouthpiece. For 
 themselves they knew, admired, and trusted him; but those 
 d d country gentlemen and the dull public! 
 
 Alarmed, wearied, and disgusted, the schemer saw himself
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 115 
 
 reduced to submission, for the present at least ; and more than 
 ever he felt the necessity of Evelyn's fortune to fall back upon, 
 if the chance of the cards should rob him of his salary. He 
 was glad to escape for a breathing-while from the vexations 
 and harassments that beset him, and looked forward with 
 the eager interest of a sanguine and elastic mind always 
 escaping from one scheme to another to his excursion into 
 B shire. 
 
 At the villa of Mr. Douce, Lord Vargrave met a young 
 nobleman who had just succeeded to a property not only 
 large and unencumbered, but of a nature to give him impor- 
 tance in the eyes of politicians. Situated in a very small 
 county, the estates of Lord Doltimore secured to his nomina- 
 tion at least one of the representatives, while a little village 
 at the back of his pleasure-grounds constituted a borough, and 
 returned two members to parliament. Lord Doltimore, just 
 returned from the Continent, had not even taken his seat in 
 the Lords ; and though his family connections, such as they 
 were and they were not very high, and by no means in the 
 fashion were ministerial, his own opinions were as yet 
 unrevealed. 
 
 To this young nobleman Lord Vargrave was singularly 
 attentive. He was well formed to attract men younger than 
 himself, and he eminently succeeded in his designs upon 
 Lord Doltimore 's affection. 
 
 His lordship was a small, pale man, with a very limited 
 share of understanding, supercilious in manner, elaborate 
 in dress, not ill-natured au fond, and with much of the Eng- 
 lish gentleman in his disposition, that is, he was honour- 
 able in his ideas and actions, whenever his natural dulness 
 and neglected education enabled him clearly to perceive 
 (through the midst of prejudices, the delusions of others, 
 and the false lights of the dissipated society in which he had 
 lived) what was right and what wrong. But his leading char- 
 acteristics were vanity and conceit. He had lived much with 
 younger sons, cleverer than himself, who borrowed his money, 
 sold him their horses, and won from him at cards. In return 
 they gave him all that species of flattery which young men
 
 116 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 can give with so hearty an appearance of cordial admiration. 
 " You certainly have the best horses in Paris. You are really 
 a devilish good fellow, Doltimore. Oh, do you know, Dolti- 
 more, what little De'sire' says of you? You have certainly 
 turned the girl's head." 
 
 This sort of adulation from one sex was not corrected by 
 any great acerbity from the other. Lord Doltimore at the 
 age of twenty -two was a very good parti ; and, whatever his 
 other deficiencies, he had sense enough to perceive that he 
 received much greater attention whether from opera- 
 dancers in search of a friend, or virtuous young ladies in 
 search of a husband than any of the companions, good- 
 looking though many of them were, with whom he had 
 habitually lived. 
 
 "You will not long remain in town now the season is 
 over? " said Vargrave, as after dinner he found himself, by 
 the departure of the ladies, next to Lord Doltimore. 
 
 "No, indeed; even in the season I don't much like London. 
 Paris has rather spoiled me for any other place." 
 
 "Paris is certainly very charming; the ease of French 
 life has a fascination that our formal ostentation wants. 
 Nevertheless, to a man like you, London must have many 
 attractions." 
 
 "Why, I have a good many friends here; but still, after 
 Ascot, it rather bores me." 
 
 " Have you any horses on the turf? " 
 
 "Not yet; but Legard (you know Legard, perhaps, a very 
 good fellow) is anxious that I should try my luck. I was 
 very fortunate in the races at Paris you know we have 
 established racing there. The French take to it quite 
 naturally." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! It is so long since I have been in Paris 
 most exciting amusement! A propos of races, I am going 
 down to Lord Raby's to-morrow; I think I saw in one of the 
 morning papers that you had very largely backed a horse 
 entered at Knaresdean." 
 
 "Yes, Thunderer I think of buying Thunderer. Legard 
 Colonel Legard (he was in the Guards, but he sold out)
 
 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 117 
 
 is a good judge, and recommends the purchase. How very 
 odd that you too should be going to Knaresdean ! " 
 
 "Odd, indeed, but most lucky! We can go together, if you 
 are not better engaged." 
 
 Lord Doltimore coloured and hesitated. On the one hand 
 he was a little afraid of being alone with so clever a man; on 
 the other hand, it was an honour, it was something for him 
 to talk of to Legard. Nevertheless, the shyness got the bet- 
 ter of the vanity. He excused himself; he feared he was 
 engaged to take down Legard. 
 
 Lumley smiled, and changed the conversation; and so 
 agreeable did he make himself, that when the party broke 
 up, and Lumley had just shaken hands with his host, Dolti- 
 more came to him, and said in a little confusion, 
 
 " I think I can put off Legard if if you " 
 
 "That's delightful! What time shall we start? need not 
 get down much before dinner one o'clock?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! not too long before dinner; one o'clock will be 
 a little too early." 
 
 " Two then. Where are you staying? " 
 
 "At Teuton's." 
 
 "I will call for you. Good-night! I long to see 
 Thunderer!" 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LA saute" de l'ame n'est pas plus assume que celle du corps ; et quoique 
 Ton paraisse eloigne' des passions, on n'est pas moins en danger de s'y 
 laisser emporter que de tomber malade quand on se porte bien. 1 LA 
 ROCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 IN spite of the efforts of Maltravers to shun all occasions 
 of meeting Evelyn, they were necessarily sometimes thrown 
 together in the round of provincial hospitalities; and cer- 
 
 1 " The health of the soul is not more sure than that of the body ; and 
 although we may appear free from passions, there is not the less danger of 
 their attack than of falling sick at the moment we are well."
 
 118 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 tainly, if either Mr. Merton or Caroline (the shrewder 
 observer of the two) had ever formed any suspicion that 
 Evelyn had made a conquest of Maltravers, his manner at 
 such times effectually removed it. 
 
 Maltravers was a man to feel deeply, but no longer a boy 
 to yield to every tempting impulse. I have said that FORTI- 
 TUDE was his favourite virtue, but fortitude is the virtue of 
 great and rare occasions; there was another, equally hard- 
 favoured and unshowy, which he took as the staple of active 
 and every-day duties, and that virtue was JUSTICE. Now, 
 in earlier life, he had been enamoured of the conventional 
 Florimel that we call HOISTOUR, a shifting and shadowy 
 phantom, that is but the reflex of the opinion of the time and 
 clime. But justice has in it something permanent and solid; 
 and out of justice arises the real not the false honour. 
 
 "Honour! " said Maltravers, "honour is to justice as the 
 flower to the plant, its efflorescence, its bloom, its consum- 
 mation! But honour that does not spring from justice is 
 but a piece of painted rag, an artificial rose, which the men- 
 milliners of society would palm upon us as more natural 
 than the true." 
 
 This principle of justice Maltravers sought to carry out in 
 all things not, perhaps, with constant success; for what 
 practice can always embody theory? but still, at least his 
 endeavour at success was constant. This, perhaps, it was 
 which had ever kept him from the excesses to which exuber- 
 ant and liberal natures are prone, from the extravagances of 
 pseudo-genius. 
 
 "No man, for instance," he was wont to say, "can be em- 
 barrassed in his own circumstances, and not cause embarrass- 
 ment to others. Without economy, who can be just? And 
 what are charity, generosity, but the poetry and the beauty 
 of justice?" 
 
 No man ever asked Maltravers twice for a just debt; and 
 no man ever once asked him to fulfil a promise. You felt 
 that, come what would, you might rely upon his word. To 
 him might have been applied the witty eulogium passed by 
 Johnson upon a certain nobleman : " If he had promised you
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 119 
 
 an acorn, and the acorn season failed in England, he would 
 have sent to Norway for one! " 
 
 It was not, therefore, the mere Norman and chivalrous 
 spirit of honour, which he had worshipped in youth as a part 
 of the Beautiful and the Becoming, but which in youth had 
 yielded to temptation, as a sentiment ever must yield to a 
 passion, but it was the more hard, stubborn, and reflective 
 principle, which was the later growth of deeper and nobler 
 wisdom, that regulated the conduct of Maltravers in this 
 crisis of his life. Certain it is, that he had never but once 
 loved as he loved Evelyn ; and yet that he never yielded so 
 little to the passion. 
 
 "If engaged to another," thought he, " that engagement it 
 is not for a third person to attempt to dissolve. I am the last 
 to form a right judgment of the strength or weakness of 
 the bonds which unite her to Vargrave, for my emotions 
 would prejudice me despite myself. I may fancy that her 
 betrothed is not worthy of her, but that is for her to de- 
 cide. While the bond lasts, who can be justified in tempting 
 her to break it? " 
 
 Agreeably to these notions, which the world may, perhaps, 
 consider overstrained, whenever Maltravers met Evelyn, he 
 intrenched himself in a rigid and almost a chilling formality. 
 How difficult this was with one so simple and ingenuous! 
 Poor Evelyn! she thought she had offended him; she longed 
 to ask him her offence, perhaps, in her desire to rouse his 
 genius into exertion, she had touched some secret sore, some 
 latent wound of the memory? She recalled all their conver- 
 sations again and again. Ah, why could they not be re- 
 newed? Upon her fancy and her thoughts Maltravers had 
 made an impression not to be obliterated. She wrote more 
 frequently than ever to Lady Vargrave, and the name of 
 Maltravers was found in every page of her correspondence. 
 
 One evening, at the house of a neighbour, Miss Cameron 
 (with the Mertons) entered the room almost in the same 
 instant as Maltravers. The party was small, and so few had 
 yet arrived that it was impossible for Maltravers, without 
 marked rudeness, to avoid his friends from the rectory; and
 
 120 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Mrs. Merton, placing herself next to Evelyn, graciously mo- 
 tioned to Maltravers to occupy the third vacant seat on the 
 sofa, of which she filled the centre. 
 
 " We grudge all your improvements, Mr. Maltravers, since 
 they cost us your society. But we know that our dull circle 
 must seem tame to one who has seen so much. However, we 
 expect to offer you an inducement soon in Lord Vargrave. 
 What a lively, agreeable person he is ! " 
 
 Maltravers raised his eyes to Evelyn, calmly and penetrat- 
 ingly, at the latter part of this speech. He observed that 
 she turned pale, and sighed involuntarily. 
 
 "He had great spirits when I knew him," said he; "and 
 he had then less cause to make him happy." 
 
 Mrs. Merton smiled, and turned rather pointedly towards 
 Evelyn. 
 
 Maltravers continued, " I never met the late lord. He had 
 none of the vivacity of his nephew, I believe." 
 
 " I have heard that he was very severe, " said Mrs. Merton, 
 lifting her glass towards a party that had just entered. 
 
 "Severe!" exclaimed Evelyn. "Ah, if you could have 
 known him! the kindest, the most indulgent no one ever 
 loved me as he did." She paused, for she felt her lip quiver. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my dear," said Mrs. Merton, coolly. 
 Mrs. Merton had no idea of the pain inflicted by treading 
 upon a feeling. Maltravers was touched, and Mrs. Merton 
 went on. "No wonder he was kind to you, Evelyn, a 
 brute would be that; but he was generally considered a stern 
 man." 
 
 "I never saw a stern look, I never heard a harsh word; 
 nay, I do not remember that he ever even used the word 
 ' command, ' " said Evelyn, almost angrily. 
 
 Mrs. Merton was about to reply, when suddenly seeing a 
 lady whose little girl had been ill of the measles, her moth- 
 erly thoughts flowed into a new channel, and she fluttered 
 away in that sympathy which unites all the heads of a grow- 
 ing family. Evelyn and Maltravers were left alone. 
 
 "You do not remember your father, I believe?" said 
 Maltravers.
 
 ALICE ; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 121 
 
 "No father but Lord Vargrave; while he lived, I never 
 knew the loss of one." 
 
 "Does your mother resemble you?" 
 
 "Ah, I wish I could think so; it is the sweetest counte- 
 nance ! " 
 
 "Have you no picture of her?" 
 
 "None; she would never consent to sit." 
 
 "Your father was a Cameron; I have known some of that 
 name." 
 
 "No relation of ours : my mother says we have none living." 
 
 "And have we no chance of seeing Lady Vargrave in 
 B shire?" 
 
 "She never leaves home; but I hope to return soon to 
 Brook-Green." 
 
 Maltravers sighed, and the conversation took a new turn. 
 
 " I have to thank you for the books you so kindly sent ; I 
 ought to have returned them ere this," said Evelyn. 
 
 "I have no use for them. Poetry has lost its charm for 
 me, especially that species of poetry which unites with the 
 method and symmetry something of the coldness of Art. How 
 did you like Alfieri? " 
 
 "His language is a kind of Spartan French," answered 
 Evelyn, in one of those happy expressions which every now 
 and then showed the quickness of her natural talent. 
 
 "Yes," said Maltravers, smiling, "the criticism is acute. 
 Poor Alfieri ! in his wild life and his stormy passions he threw 
 out all the redundance of his genius ; and his poetry is but the 
 representative of his thoughts, not his emotions. Happier 
 the man of genius who lives upon his reason, and wastes feel- 
 ing only on his verse ! " 
 
 "You do not think that we waste feeling upon human 
 beings?" said Evelyn, with a pretty laugh. 
 
 " Ask me that question when you have reached my years, 
 and can look upon fields on which you have lavished your 
 warmest hopes, your noblest aspirations, your tenderest affec- 
 tions, and see the soil all profitless and barren. ' Set not 
 your heart on the things of earth,' saith the Preacher." 
 
 Evelyn was affected by the tone, the words, and the melan-
 
 122 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 choly countenance of the speaker. " You, of all men, ought 
 not to think thus," said she, with a sweet eagerness; "you 
 who have done so much to awaken and to soften the heart in 
 others; you who " she stopped short, and added, more 
 gravely, " Ah, Mr. Maltravers, I cannot reason with you, but 
 I can hope you will refute your own philosophy." 
 
 "Were your wish fulfilled," answered Maltravers, almost 
 with sternness, and with an expression of great pain in his 
 compressed lips, " I should have to thank you for much mis- 
 ery." He rose abruptly, and turned away. 
 
 "How have I offended him?" thought Evelyn, sorrowfully; 
 " I never speak but to wound him. What have I done? " 
 
 She could have wished, in her simple kindness, to follow 
 him, and make peace ; but he was now in a coterie of stran- 
 gers; and shortly afterwards he left the room, and she did 
 not see him again for weeks. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 NIHIL est aliud magnum quam multa minuta. 1 VETUS. AUCTOR. 
 
 AN anxious event disturbed the smooth current of cheerful 
 life at Merton Rectory. One morning when Evelyn came 
 down, she missed little Sophy, who had contrived to estab- 
 lish for herself the undisputed privilege of a stool beside Miss 
 Cameron at breakfast. Mrs. Merton appeared with a graver 
 face than usual. Sophy was unwell, was feverish; the scar- 
 let fever had been in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Merton was 
 very uneasy. 
 
 "It is the more unlucky, Caroline," added the mother, 
 turning to Miss Merton, "because to-morrow, you know, we 
 were to have spent a few days at Knaresdean to see the races. 
 If poor Sophy does not get better, I fear you and Miss Came- 
 ron must go without me. I can send to Mrs. Hare to be your 
 chaperon; she would be delighted." 
 
 1 " There is nothing so great as the collection of the minute."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 123 
 
 "Poor Sophy!" said Caroline; "I am very sorry to hear 
 she is unwell; but I think Taylor would take great care of 
 her; you surely need not stay, unless she is much worse." 
 
 Mrs. Merton, who, tame as she seemed, was a fond and 
 attentive mother, shook her head and said nothing ; but Sophy 
 was much worse before noon. The doctor was sent for, and 
 pronounced it to be the scarlet fever. 
 
 It was now necessary to guard against the infection. Caro- 
 line had had the complaint, and she willingly shared in her 
 mother's watch of love for two or three hours. Mrs. Merton 
 gave up the party. Mrs. Hare (the wife of a rich squire in 
 the neighbourhood) was written to, and that lady willingly 
 agreed to take charge of Caroline and her friend. 
 
 Sophy had been left asleep. When Mrs. Merton returned 
 to her bed, she found Evelyn quietly stationed there. This 
 alarmed her, for Evelyn had never had the scarlet fever, and 
 had been forbidden the sick-room. But poor little Sophy had 
 waked and querulously asked for her dear Evy ; and Evy, who 
 had been hovering round the room, heard the inquiry from 
 the garrulous nurse, and come in she would; and the child 
 gazed at her so beseechingly, when Mrs. Merton entered, 
 and said so piteously, "Don't take Evy away," that Evelyn 
 stoutly declared that she was not the least afraid of infec- 
 tion, and stay she must. Nay, her share in the nursing 
 would be the more necessary since Caroline was to go to 
 Knaresdean the next day. 
 
 "But you go too, my dear Miss Cameron? " 
 
 " Indeed I could not. I don't care for races, I never wished 
 to go, I would much sooner have stayed; and I am sure 
 Sophy will not get well without me, will you, dear? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ; if I 'm to keep you from the nice races, I 
 should be worse if I thought that." 
 
 "But I don't like the nice races, Sophy, as your sister 
 Carry does; she must go, they can't do without her; but 
 nobody knows me, so I shall not be missed." 
 
 "I can't hear of such a thing," said Mrs. Merton, with 
 tears in her eyes ; and Evelyn said no more then. But the 
 next morning Sophy was still worse, and the mother was too
 
 124 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 anxious and too sad to think more of ceremony and politeness, 
 so Evelyn stayed. 
 
 A momentary pang shot across Evelyn's breast when all 
 was settled; but she suppressed the sigh which accompanied 
 the thought that she had lost the only opportunity she might 
 have for weeks of seeing Maltravers. To that chance she had 
 indeed looked forward with interest and timid pleasure. The 
 chance was lost; but why should it vex her, what was he 
 to her? 
 
 Caroline's heart smote her, as she came into the room in 
 her lilac bonnet and new dress; and little Sophy, turning on 
 her eyes which, though languid, still expressed a child's 
 pleasure at the sight of finery, exclaimed, "How nice and 
 pretty you look, Carry! Do take Evy with you, Evy looks 
 pretty too ! " 
 
 I Caroline kissed the child in silence, and paused irresolute ; 
 glanced at her dress, and then at Evelyn, who smiled on her 
 without a thought of envy ; and she had half a mind to stay 
 too, when her mother entered with a letter from Lord Var- 
 grave. It was short : he should be at the Knaresdean races, 
 hoped to meet them there, and accompany them home. This 
 information re-decided Caroline, while it rewarded Evelyn. 
 In a few minutes more, Mrs. Hare arrived; and Caroline, 
 glad to escape, perhaps, her own compunction, hurried into 
 the carriage, with a hasty " God bless you all ! Don't fret 
 I 'm sure she will be well to-morrow; and mind, Evelyn, you 
 don't catch the fever!" Mr. Merton looked grave and sighed, 
 as he handed her into the carriage; but when, seated there, 
 she turned round and kissed her hand at him, she looked so 
 handsome and distinguished, that a sentiment of paternal 
 pride smoothed down his vexation at her want of feeling. He 
 himself gave up the visit ; but a little time after, when Sophy 
 fell into a tranquil sleep, he thought he might venture to 
 canter across the country to the race-ground, and return to 
 dinner. 
 
 Days nay, a whole week passed, the races were over, but 
 Caroline had not returned. Meanwhile, Sophy's fever left
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 125 
 
 her; she could quit her bed, her room; she could come down- 
 stairs now, and the family was happy. It is astonishing how 
 the least ailment in those little things stops the wheels of 
 domestic life ! Evelyn fortunately had not caught the fever : 
 she was pale, and somewhat reduced by fatigue and confine- 
 ment; but she was amply repaid by the mother's swimming 
 look of quiet gratitude, the father's pressure of the hand, 
 Sophy's recovery, and her own good heart. They had heard 
 twice from Caroline, putting off her return : Lady Kaby was 
 so kind, she could not get away till the party broke up; she 
 was so glad to hear such an account of Sophy. 
 
 Lord Vargrave had not yet arrived at the rectory to stay ; 
 but he had twice ridden over, and remained there some hours. 
 He exerted himself to the utmost to please Evelyn; and she 
 who, deceived by his manners, and influenced by the recol- 
 lections of long and familiar acquaintance, was blinded to his 
 real character reproached herself more bitterly than ever 
 for her repugnance to his suit and her ungrateful hesitation 
 to obey the wishes of her stepfather. 
 
 To the Mertons, Lumley spoke with good-natured praise of 
 Caroline; she was so much admired; she was the beauty at 
 Knaresdean. A certain young friend of his, Lord Dolti- 
 more, was evidently smitten. The parents thought much 
 over the ideas conjured up by that last sentence. 
 
 One morning, the garrulous Mrs. Hare, the gossip of the 
 neighbourhood, called at the rectory; she had returned, two 
 days before, from Knaresdean ; and she, too, had her tale to 
 tell of Caroline's conquests. 
 
 "I assure you, my dear Mrs. Merton, if we had not all 
 known that his heart was pre-occupied, we should have 
 thought that Lord Vargrave was her warmest admirer. Most 
 charming man, Lord Vargrave ! but as for Lord Doltimore, it 
 was quite a flirtation. Excuse me; no scandal, you know, 
 ha, ha! a fine young man, but stiff and reserved, not the 
 fascination of Lord Vargrave." 
 
 " Does Lord Raby return to town, or is he now at Knares- 
 dean for the autumn? " 
 
 " He goes on Friday, I believe : very few of the guests are
 
 126 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 left now. Lady A. and Lord B., and Lord Vargrave and 
 your daughter, and Mr. Legard and Lord Doltimore, and Mrs. 
 and the Misses Cipher; all the rest went the same day I 
 did." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Merton, in some surprise. 
 
 " Ah, I read your thoughts : you wonder that Miss Caroline 
 has not come back, is not that it? But perhaps Lord Dolti- 
 more ha, ha! no scandal now do excuse me ! " 
 
 "Was Mr. Maltravers at Knaresdean?" asked Mrs. Mer- 
 ton, anxious to change the subject, and unprepared with any 
 other question. Evelyn was cutting out a paper horse for 
 Sophy, who all her high spirits flown was lying on the 
 sofa, and wistfully following her fairy fingers. "Naughty 
 Evy, you have cut off the horse's head!" 
 
 "Mr. Maltravers? No, I think not; no, he was not there. 
 Lord Raby asked him pointedly to come, and was, I know, 
 much disappointed that he did not. But a propos of Mr. 
 Maltravers: I met him not a quarter of an hour ago, this 
 morning, as I was coming to you. You know we have leave 
 to come through his park, and as I was in the park at the 
 time, I stopped the carriage to speak to him. I told him that 
 I was coming here, and that you had had the scarlet fever in 
 the house, which was the reason you had not gone to the 
 races ; and he turned quite pale, and seemed so alarmed. I 
 said we were all afraid that Miss Cameron should catch it; 
 and, excuse me ah, ah ! no scandal, I hope but " 
 
 "Mr. Maltravers," said the butler, throwing open the door. 
 
 Maltravers entered with a quick and even a hurried step. 
 He stopped short when he saw Evelyn; and his whole coun- 
 tenance was instantly lightened up by a joyous expression, 
 which as suddenly died away. 
 
 " This is kind, indeed, " said Mrs. Merton ; " it is so long 
 since we have seen you." 
 
 "I have been very much occupied," muttered Maltravers, 
 almost inaudibly, and seated himself next Evelyn. " I only 
 just heard that that you had sickness in the house. 
 Miss Cameron, you look pale you you have not suffered, 
 I hope? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 127 
 
 "No, I am quite well," said Evelyn, with a smile; and she 
 felt happy that her friend was kind to her once more. 
 
 "It's only me, Mr. Ernest," said Sophy; "you have for- 
 got me." 
 
 Maltravers hastened to vindicate himself from the charge, 
 and Sophy and he were soon made excellent friends again. 
 
 Mrs. Hare, whom surprise at this sudden meeting had 
 hitherto silenced, and who longed to shape into elegant peri- 
 phrasis the common adage, "Talk of," etc., now once more 
 opened her budget. She tattled on, first to one, then to the 
 other, then to all, till she had tattled herself out of breath ; 
 and then the orthodox half-hour was expired, and the bell 
 was rung, and the carriage ordered, and Mrs. Hare rose to 
 depart. 
 
 " Do just come to the door, Mrs. Merton, " said she, " and 
 look at my pony-phaeton, it is so pretty; Lady Raby admires 
 it so much; you ought to have just such another." As she 
 spoke, she favoured Mrs. Merton with a significant glance, 
 that said, as plainly as glance could say, " I have something 
 to communicate." Mrs. Merton took the hint, and followed 
 the good lady out of the room. 
 
 "Do you know, my dear Mrs. Merton," said Mrs. Hare, in 
 a whisper, when they were safe in the billiard-room, that in- 
 terposed between the apartment they had left and the hall; 
 "do you know whether Lord Vargrave and Mr. Maltravers 
 are very good friends? " 
 
 "No, indeed; why do you ask? " 
 
 " Oh, because when I was speaking to Lord Vargrave about 
 him, he shook his head; and really I don't remember what 
 his lordship said, but he seemed to speak as if there was a 
 little soreness. And then he inquired very anxiously if Mr. 
 Maltravers was much at the rectory; and looked discomposed 
 when he found you were such near neighbours. You '11 excuse 
 me, you know ha, ha! but we 're such old friends! and if 
 Lord Vargrave is coming to stay here, it might be unpleasant 
 to meet you '11 excuse me. I took the liberty to tell him he 
 need not be jealous of Mr. Maltravers ha, ha! not a mar- 
 rying man at all. But I did think Miss Caroline was the
 
 128 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 attraction you'll excuse me no. scandal ha, ha! But, 
 after all, Lord Doltimore must be the man. Well, good 
 morning, I thought I 'd just give you this hint. Is not the 
 phaeton pretty? Kind compliments to Mr. Merton." 
 
 And the lady drove off. 
 
 During this confabulation, Maltravers and Evelyn were 
 left alone with Sophy. Maltravers had continued to lean 
 over the child, and appeared listening to her prattle ; while 
 Evelyn, having risen to shake hands with Mrs. Hare, did not 
 reseat herself, but went to the window, and busied herself 
 with a flowerstand in the recess. 
 
 "Oh, very fine, Mr. Ernest," said Sophy (always pronounc- 
 ing that proper name as if it ended in th), "you care very 
 much for us to stay away so long, don't he, Evy? I 've a 
 great mind not to speak to you, sir, that I have! " 
 
 "That would be too heavy a punishment, Miss Sophy, 
 only, luckily, it would punish yourself; you could not live 
 without talking talk talk talk ! " 
 
 "But I might never have talked more, Mr. Ernest, if 
 Mamma and pretty Evy had not been so kind to me; " and 
 the child shook her head mournfully, as if she had pitie de 
 soi-meme. But you won't stay away so long again, will you? 
 Sophy play to-morrow; come to-morrow, and swing Sophy; 
 no nice swinging since you 've been gone." 
 
 While Sophy spoke Evelyn turned half round, as if to hear 
 Maltravers answer; he hesitated, and Evelyn spoke. 
 
 "You must not tease Mr. Maltravers so; Mr. Maltravers 
 has too much to do to come to us." 
 
 Now this was a very pettish speech in Evelyn, and her 
 cheek glowed while she spoke; but an arch, provoking smile 
 was on her lips. 
 
 " It can be a privation only to me, Miss Cameron," said Mal- 
 travers, rising, and attempting in vain to resist the impulse 
 that drew him towards the window. The reproach in her tone 
 and words at once pained and delighted him; and then this 
 scene, the suffering child, brought back to him his first inter- 
 view with Evelyn herself. He forgot, for the moment, the 
 lapse of time, the new ties she had formed, his own resolutions.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 129 
 
 "That is a bad compliment to us," answered Evelyn, in- 
 genuously ; " do you think we are so little worthy your society 
 as not to value it? But, perhaps" (she added, sinking her 
 voice) " perhaps you have been offended perhaps I I 
 said something that that hurt you ! " 
 
 " You ! " repeated Maltravers, with emotion. 
 
 Sophy, who had been attentively listening, here put in, 
 "Shake hands and make it up with Evy you 've been quar- 
 relling, naughty Ernest! " 
 
 Evelyn laughed, and tossed back her sunny ringlets. " I 
 think Sophy is right," said she, with enchanting simpli- 
 city; "let us make it up," and she held out her hand to 
 Maltravers. 
 
 Maltravers pressed the fair hand to his lips. "Alas! " said 
 he, affected with various feelings which gave a tremor to his 
 deep voice, "your only fault is that your society makes me 
 discontented with my solitary home ; and as solitude must be 
 my fate in life, I seek to inure myself to it betimes." 
 
 Here whether opportunely or not, it is for the reader to 
 decide Mrs. Merton returned to the room. 
 
 She apologized for her absence, talked of Mrs. Hare and 
 the little Master Hares, fine boys, but noisy; and then she 
 asked Maltravers if he had seen Lord Vargrave since his lord- 
 ship had been in the county. Maltravers replied, with cold- 
 ness, that he had not had that honour: that Vargrave had 
 called on him in his way from the rectory the other day, but 
 that he was from home, and that he had not seen him for 
 some years. 
 
 "He is a person of most prepossessing manners," said Mrs. 
 Merton. 
 
 "Certainly, most prepossessing." 
 
 " And very clever." 
 
 "He has great talents." 
 
 " He seems most amiable." 
 
 Maltravers bowed, and glanced towards Evelyn, whose 
 face, however, was turned from him. 
 
 The turn the conversation had taken was painful to the 
 visitor, and he rose to depart. 
 
 9
 
 130 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mrs. Merton, "you will meet Lord Var- 
 grave at dinner to-morrow; he will stay with us a few days, 
 
 as long as he can be spared." 
 
 Maltravers meet Lord Vargrave! the happy Vargrave, the 
 betrothed to Evelyn ! Maltravers witness the familiar rights, 
 the enchanting privileges, accorded to another ! and that other 
 one whom he could not believe worthy of Evelyn! He writhed 
 at the picture the invitation conjured up. 
 
 " You are very kind, my dear Mrs. Merton, but I expect a 
 visitor at Burleigh, an old and dear friend, Mr. Cleveland." 
 
 "Mr. Cleveland! we shall be delighted to see him too. 
 We knew him many years ago, during your minority, when 
 he used to visit Burleigh two or three times a year." 
 
 "He is changed since then; he is often an invalid. I fear 
 I cannot answer for him; but he will call as soon as he 
 arrives, and apologize for himself." 
 
 Maltravers then hastily took his departure. He would not 
 trust himself to do more than bow distantly to Evelyn ; she 
 looked at him reproachfully. So, then, it was really pre- 
 meditated and resolved upon his absence from the rectory ; 
 and why? She was grieved, she was offended but more 
 grieved than offended, perhaps because esteem, interest, 
 admiration, are more tolerant and charitable than love. 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 Arethusa. T is well, my lord, yonr courting of ladies. 
 
 Claremont. Sure this lady has a good turn done her against her will. 
 
 PHILASTER. 
 
 IN the breakfast-room at Knaresdean, the same day, and 
 almost at the same hour, in which occurred the scene and 
 conversation at the rectory recorded in our last chapter, sat 
 Lord Vargrave and Caroline alone. The party had dis- 
 persed, as was usual, at noon. They heard at a distance
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 131 
 
 the sounds of the billiard-balls. Lord Doltimore was playing 
 with Colonel Legard, one of the best players in Europe, but 
 who, fortunately for Doltimore, had of late made it a rule 
 never to play for money. Mrs. and the Misses Cipher, and 
 most of the guests, were in the billiard-room looking on. 
 Lady Raby was writing letters, and Lord Raby riding over 
 his home farm. Caroline and Lumley had been for some 
 time in close and earnest conversation. Miss Merton was 
 seated in a large armchair, much moved, with her handker- 
 chief to her eyes. Lord Vargrave, with his back to the 
 chimney-piece, was bending down and speaking in a very 
 low voice, while his quick eye glanced, ever and anon, from 
 the lady's countenance to the windows, to the doors, to be 
 prepared against any interruption. 
 
 "No, my dear friend," said he, "believe me that I am sin- 
 cere. My feelings for you are, indeed, such as no words can 
 paint." 
 
 "Then why " 
 
 "Why wish you wedded to another; why wed another 
 myself? Caroline, I have often before explained to you that 
 we are in this the victims of an inevitable fate. It is abso- 
 lutely necessary that I should wed Miss Cameron. I never 
 deceived you from the first. I should have loved her, my 
 heart would have accompanied my hand, but for your too 
 seductive beauty, your superior mind ! yes, Caroline, your 
 mind attracted me more than your beauty. Your mind seemed 
 kindred to my own, inspired with the proper and wise ambi- 
 tion which regards the fools of the world as puppets, as coun - 
 ters, as chessmen. For myself, a very angel from heaven 
 could not make me give up the great game of life, yield to 
 my enemies, slip from the ladder, unravel the web I have 
 woven! Share my heart, my friendship, my schemes! this 
 is the true and dignified affection that should exist between 
 minds like ours; all the rest is the prejudice of children." 
 
 "Vargrave, I am ambitious, worldly: I own it; but I could 
 give up all for you! " 
 
 "You think so, for you do not know the sacrifice. You see 
 me now apparently rich, in power, courted; and this fate you
 
 132 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 are willing to share; and this fate you should share, were it 
 the real one I could bestow on you. But reverse the medal. 
 Deprived of office, fortune gone, debts pressing, destitution 
 notorious, the ridicule of embarrassments, the disrepute 
 attached to poverty and defeated ambition, an exile in some 
 foreign town on the poor pension to which alone I should be 
 entitled, a mendicant on the public purse; and that, too, so 
 eaten into by demands and debts, that there is not a grocer in 
 the next market-town who would envy the income of the re- 
 tired minister! Ketire, fallen, despised, in the prime of life, 
 in the zenith of my hopes ! Suppose that I could bear this for 
 myself, could I bear it for you? You, born to be the ornament 
 of courts ! And you could you see me thus life embittered, 
 career lost and feel, generous as you are, that your love had 
 entailed on me, on us both, on our children, this miserable lot ! 
 Impossible, Caroline! we are too wise for such romance. It is 
 not because we love too little, but because our love is worthy 
 of each other, that we disdain to make love a curse! We can- 
 not wrestle against the world, but we may shake hands with 
 it, and worm the miser out of its treasures. My heart must 
 be ever yours; my hand must be Miss Cameron's. Money I 
 must have, my whole career depends on it. It is literally 
 with me the highwayman's choice, money or life." 
 
 Vargrave paused, and took Caroline's hand. 
 
 "I cannot reason with you," said she; "you know the 
 strange empire you have obtained over me, and, certainly, 
 in spite of all that has passed (and Caroline turned pale) I 
 could bear anything rather than that you should hereafter re- 
 proach me for selfish disregard of your interests, your just 
 ambition." 
 
 " My noble friend ! I do not say that I shall not feel a deep 
 and sharp pang at seeing you wed another; but I shall be 
 consoled by the thought that I have assisted to procure for 
 you a station worthier of your merits than that which I can 
 offer. Lord Doltimore is rich, you will teach him to em- 
 ploy his riches well; he is weak, your intellect will govern 
 him; he is in love, your beauty will suffice to preserve his 
 regard. Ah, we shall be dear friends to the lastl "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 133 
 
 More but to the same effect did this able and crafty 
 villain continue to address to Caroline, whom he alternately 
 soothed, irritated, flattered, and revolted. Love him she cer- 
 tainly did, as far as love in her could extend; but perhaps his 
 rank, his reputation, had served to win her affection; and, 
 not knowing his embarrassments, she had encouraged a 
 worldly hope that if Evelyn should reject his hand it might 
 be offered to her. Under this impression she had trifled, she 
 had coquetted, she had played with the serpent till it had 
 coiled around her; and she could not escape its fascination 
 and its folds. She was sincere, she could have resigned 
 much for Lord Vargrave; but his picture startled and ap- 
 palled her. For difficulties in a palace she might be prepared; 
 perhaps even for some privations in a cottage ornee, but cer- 
 tainly not for penury in a lodging-house! She listened by 
 degrees with more attention to Vargrave's description of the 
 power and homage that would be hers if she could secure Lord 
 Doltimore: she listened, and was in part consoled. But the 
 thought of Evelyn again crossed her; and perhaps with natu- 
 ral jealousy was mingled some compunction at the fate to 
 which Lord Vargrave thus coldly appeared to condemn one 
 so lovely and so innocent. 
 
 "But do not, Vargrave," she said, "do not be too sanguine; 
 Evelyn may reject you. She does not see you with my eyes ; 
 it is only a sense of honour that, as yet, forbids her openly to 
 refuse the fulfilment of an engagement from which I know 
 that she shrinks; and if she does refuse, and you be free, 
 and I another's " 
 
 "Even in that case," interrupted Vargrave, "I must turn 
 to the Golden Idol; my rank and name must buy me an heir- 
 ess, if not so endowed as Evelyn, wealthy enough, at least, to 
 take from my wheels the drag-chain of disreputable debt. 
 But Evelyn I will not doubt of her! her heart is still 
 unoccupied ! " 
 
 "True; as yet her affections are not engaged." 
 
 " And this Maltravers she is romantic, T fancy did he 
 seem captivated by her beauty or her fortune? " 
 
 "No, indeed, I think not; he has been very little with as
 
 134 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 of late. He talked to her more as to a child, there is a dis- 
 parity of years. " 
 
 " I am many years older than Maltravers, " muttered Var- 
 grave, moodily. 
 
 " You but your manner is livelier, and, therefore, 
 younger ! " 
 
 "Fair flatterer! Maltravers does not love me: I fear his 
 report of my character " 
 
 "I never heard him speak of you, Vargrave; and I will do 
 Evelyn the justice to say, that precisely as she does not love 
 she esteems and respects you." 
 
 "Esteems! respects! these are the feelings for a prudent 
 Hymen," said Vargrave, with a smile. "But, hark! I don't 
 hear the billiard-balls j they may find us here, we had better 
 separate. " 
 
 Lord Vargrave lounged into the billiard-room. The young 
 men had just finished playing, and were about to visit Thun- 
 derer, who had won the race, and was now the property of 
 Lord Doltimore. 
 
 Vargrave accompanied them to the stables; and after con- 
 cealing his ignorance of horseflesh as well as he could, beneath 
 a profusion of compliments on fore-hand, hind-quarters, breed- 
 ing, bone, substance, and famous points, he contrived to draw 
 Doltimore into the courtyard, while Colonel Legard remained 
 in converse high with the head groom. 
 
 "Doltimore, I leave Knaresdean to-morrow; 'you go to 
 London, I suppose? Will you take a little packet for me to 
 the Home Office? " 
 
 "Certainly, when I go; but I think of staying a few days 
 with Legard's uncle the old admiral; he has a hunting- 
 box in the neighbourhood, and has asked us both over." 
 
 " Oh, I can detect the attraction ; but certainly it is a fair one, 
 the handsomest girl in the county; pity she has no money." 
 
 "I don't care for money," said Lord Doltimore, colouring, 
 and settling his chin in his neckcloth; "but you are mis- 
 taken ; I have no thoughts that way. Miss Merton is a very 
 fine girl, but I doubt much if she cares for me. I would
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 135 
 
 never marry any woman who was not very much in love with 
 me." And Lord Doltimore laughed rather foolishly. 
 
 "You are more modest than clear-sighted," said Vargrave, 
 smiling; " but mark my words, I predict that the beauty of 
 next season will be a certain Caroline Lady Doltimore." 
 
 The conversation dropped. 
 
 "I think that will be settled well," said Vargrave to him- 
 self, as he was dressing for dinner. "Caroline will manage 
 Doltimore, and I shall manage one vote in the Lords and three 
 in the Commons. I have already talked him into proper poli- 
 tics ; a trifle all this, to be sure : but I had nothing else to 
 amuse me, and one must never lose an occasion. Besides, 
 Doltimore is rich, and rich friends are always useful. I have 
 Caroline, too, in my power, and she may be of service with 
 respect to this Evelyn, who, instead of loving, I half hate: 
 she has crossed my path, robbed me of wealth; and now, if 
 she does refuse me but no, I will not think of that ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OUT of our reach the gods have laid 
 
 Of time to come the event ; 
 And laugh to see the fools afraid 
 
 Of what the knaves invent. SEDLEY, _/rom Lycophron. 
 
 THE next day Caroline returned to the rectory in Lady 
 Raby's carriage; and two hours after her arrival came Lord 
 Vargrave. Mr. Merton had secured the principal persons in 
 the neighbourhood to meet a guest so distinguished, and Lord 
 Vargrave, bent on shining in the eyes of Evelyn, charmed all 
 with his affability and wit. Evelyn, he thought, seemed 
 pale and dispirited. He pertinaciously devoted himself to 
 her all the evening. Her ripening understanding was better 
 able than heretofore to appreciate his abilities ; yet, inwardly, 
 she drew comparisons between his conversation and that of
 
 136 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Maltravers, not to the advantage of the former. There was 
 much that amused but nothing that interested in Lord Var- 
 grave's fluent ease. When he attempted sentiment, the vein 
 was hard and hollow ; he was only at home on worldly topics. 
 Caroline's spirits were, as usual in society, high, but her 
 laugh seemed forced, and her eye absent. 
 
 The next day, after breakfast, Lord Vargrave walked alone 
 to Burleigh. As he crossed the copse that bordered the park, 
 a large Persian greyhound sprang towards him, barking 
 loudly; and, lifting his eyes, he perceived the form of a 
 man walking slowly along one of the paths that intersected 
 the wood. He recognized Maltravers. They had not till 
 then encountered since their meeting a few weeks before 
 Florence's death; and a pang of conscience came across the 
 schemer's cold heart. Years rolled away from the past; he 
 recalled the young, generous, ardent man, whom, ere the char- 
 acter or career of either had been developed, he had called 
 his friend. He remembered their wild adventures and gay 
 follies, in climes where they had been all in all to each other ; 
 and the beardless boy, whose heart and purse were ever open 
 to him, and to whose very errors of youth and inexperienced 
 passion he, the elder and the wiser, had led and tempted, 
 rose before him in contrast to the grave and melancholy air of 
 the baffled and solitary man, who now slowly approached him, 
 the man whose proud career he had served to thwart, whose 
 heart his schemes had prematurely soured, whose best years 
 had been consumed in exile, a sacrifice to the grave which 
 a selfish and dishonourable villany had prepared! Cesarini, 
 the inmate of a mad-house, Florence in her shroud, such 
 were the visions the sight of Maltravers conjured up. And 
 to the soul which the unwonted and momentary remorse awak- 
 ened, a boding voice whispered, " And thinkest thou that thy 
 schemes shall prosper, and thy aspirations succeed? " For the 
 first time in his life, perhaps, the unimaginative Vargrave 
 felt the mystery of a presentiment of warning and of evil. 
 
 The two men met, and with an emotion which seemed that 
 of honest and real feeling, Lumley silently held out his hand, 
 and half turned away his head.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 137 
 
 "Lord Vargrave ! " said Maltravers, with an equal agitation, 
 "it is long since we have encountered." 
 
 "Long, very long," answered Lumley, striving hard to 
 regain his self -possession j "years have changed us both; but 
 I trust it has still left in you, as it has in me, the remem- 
 brance of our old friendship." 
 
 Maltravers was silent, and Lord Vargrave continued, 
 
 " You do not answer nie, Maltravers. Can political differ- 
 ences, opposite pursuits, or the mere lapse of time, have 
 sufficed to create an irrevocable gulf between us? Why may 
 we not be friends again?" 
 
 " Friends ! " echoed Maltravers ; " at our age that word is 
 not so lightly spoken, that tie is not so unthinkingly formed, 
 as when we were younger men." 
 
 "But may not the old tie be renewed?" 
 
 " Our ways in life are different ; and were I to scan your 
 motives 3/nd career with the scrutinizing eyes of friendship, it 
 might only serve to separate us yet more. I am sick of the 
 great juggle of ambition, and I have no sympathy left for those 
 who creep into the pint-bottle, or swallow the naked sword." 
 
 " If you despise the exhibition, why, then, let us laugh at 
 it together, for I am as cynical as yourself." 
 
 "Ah," said Maltravers with a smile, half mournful, half 
 bitter, "but are you not one of the Impostors?" 
 
 " Who ought better to judge of the Eleusiniana than one of 
 the Initiated? But seriously, why on earth should political 
 differences part private friendship? Thank Heaven! such 
 has never been my maxim." 
 
 " If the differences be the result of honest convictions on 
 either side, no; but are you honest, Lumley?" 
 
 "Faith, I have got into the habit of thinking so; and 
 habit 's a second nature. However, I dare say we shall yet 
 meet in the arena, so I must not betray my weak points. 
 How is it, Maltravers, that they see so little of you at the 
 rectory? You are a great favourite there. Have you any liv- 
 ing that Charley Merton could hold with his own? You 
 shake your head. And what think you of Miss Cameron, my 
 intended?"
 
 138 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " You speak lightly. Perhaps you " 
 
 " Feel deeply, you were going to say. I do. In the 
 hand of my ward, Evelyn Cameron, I trust to obtain at once 
 the domestic happiness to which I have as yet been a stran- 
 ger, and the wealth necessary to my career." 
 
 Lord Vargrave continued, after a short pause, " Though my 
 avocations have separated us so much, I have no doubt of her 
 steady affection, and, I may add, of her sense of honour. 
 She alone can repair to me what else had been injustice in 
 my uncle." He then proceeded to repeat the moral obliga- 
 tions which the late lord had imposed on Evelyn, obli- 
 gations that he greatly magnified. Maltravers listened 
 attentively, and said little. 
 
 "And these obligations being fairly considered," added 
 Vargrave, with a smile, "I think, even had I rivals, that 
 they could scarcely in honour attempt to break an existing 
 engagement. " 
 
 "Not while the engagement lasted," answered Maltravers; 
 "not till one or the other had declined to fulfil it, and there- 
 fore left both free : but I trust it will be an alliance in which 
 all but affection will be forgotten; that of honour alone would 
 be but a harsh tie." 
 
 "Assuredly," said Vargrave; and, as if satisfied with what 
 had passed, he turned the conversation, praised Burleigh, 
 spoke of county matters, resumed his habitual gayety, though 
 it was somewhat subdued, and promising to call again soon, 
 he at last took his leave. 
 
 Maltravers pursued his solitary rambles, and his commune 
 with himself was stern and searching. 
 
 " And so, " thought he, " this prize is reserved for Vargrave ! 
 Why should I deem him unworthy of the treasure? May 
 he not be worthier, at all events, than this soured temper and 
 erring heart? And he is assured too of her affection! Why 
 this jealous pang? Why can the fountain within never be 
 exhausted? Why, through so many scenes and sufferings, 
 have I still retained the vain madness of my youth, the 
 haunting susceptibility to love? This is my latest folly."
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 ovSe Xf"Jf i ' 
 
 'Eff6\riS OfJiflVOV. SlMONIDES. 
 
 ( A virtuous woman is man's greatest pride.' 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ABROAD uneasy, nor content at home. 
 
 And Wisdom shows the ill without the cure. 
 
 HAMMOND : Elegies. 
 
 Two or three days after the interview between Lord Var- 
 grave and Maltravers, the solitude of Burleigh was relieved 
 by the arrival of Mr. Cleveland. The good old gentleman, 
 when free from attacks of the gout, which were now some- 
 what more frequent than formerly, was the same cheerful and 
 intelligent person as ever. Amiable, urbane, accomplished, 
 and benevolent, there was just enough worldliness in Cleve- 
 land's nature to make his views sensible as far as they went, 
 but to bound their scope. Everything he said was so rational ; 
 and yet, to an imaginative person, his conversation was unsat- 
 isfactory, and his philosophy somewhat chilling. 
 
 " I cannot say how pleased and surprised I am at your care 
 of the fine old place," said he to Maltravers, as, leaning on 
 his cane and his ci-devant pupil's arm, he loitered observantly 
 through the grounds ; " I see everywhere the presence of the 
 Master." 
 
 And certainly the praise was deserved. The gardens were 
 now in order, the dilapidated fences were repaired, the weeds 
 no longer encumbered the walks. Nature was just assisted
 
 140 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and relieved by Art, without being oppressed by too officious 
 a service from her handmaid. In the house itself some suit- 
 able and appropriate repairs and decorations with such 
 articles of furniture as combined modern comfort with the 
 ancient and picturesque shapes of a former fashion had 
 redeemed the mansion from all appearance of dreariness and 
 neglect; while still was left to its quaint halls and chambers 
 the character which belonged to their architecture and asso- 
 ciations. It was surprising how much a little exercise of 
 simple taste had effected. 
 
 "I am glad you approve what I have done," said Mal- 
 travers. " I know not how it was, but the desolation of the 
 place when I returned to it reproached me. We contract 
 friendship with places as with human beings, and fancy they 
 have claims upon us; at least, that is my weakness." 
 
 " And an amiable one it is, too, I share it. As for me, I 
 look upon Temple Grove as a fond husband upon a fair wife. 
 I am always anxious to adorn it, and as proud of its beauty 
 as if it could understand and thank me for my partial admira- 
 tion. When I leave you I intend going to Paris, for the pur- 
 pose of attending a sale of the pictures and effects of M. de 
 
 . These auctions are to me what a jeweller's shop is to 
 
 a lover; but then, Ernest, I am an old bachelor." 
 
 "And I, too, am an Arcadian," said Maltravers, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Ah, but you are not too old for repentance. Burleigh 
 now requires nothing but a mistress." 
 
 "Perhaps it may soon receive that addition. I am yet 
 undecided whether I shall sell it." 
 
 " Sell it ! sell Burleigh ! the last memorial of your 
 mother's ancestry! the classic retreat of the graceful Digbys! 
 Sell Burleigh!" 
 
 " I had almost resolved to do so when I came hither ; then 
 I forswore the intention: now again I sometimes sorrowfully 
 return to the idea." 
 
 "And in Heaven's name, why?" 
 
 " My old restlessness returns. Busy myself as I will here, 
 I find the range of action monotonous and confined. I began
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 141 
 
 too soon to draw around me the large circumference of litera- 
 ture and action; and the small provincial sphere seems to me 
 a sad going back in life. Perhaps I should not feel this, were 
 my home less lonely; but as it is no, the wanderer's ban is 
 on me, and I again turn towards the lands of excitement and 
 adventure." 
 
 "I understand this, Ernest; but why is your home so soli- 
 tary? You are still at the age in which wise and congenial 
 unions are the most frequently formed ; your temper is domes- 
 tic; your easy fortune and sobered ambition allow you to 
 choose without reference to worldly considerations. Look 
 round the world, and mix with the world again, and give 
 Burleigh the mistress it requires." 
 
 Maltravers shook his head, and sighed. 
 
 "I do not say," continued Cleveland, wrapped in the glow- 
 ing interest of the theme, " that you should marry a mere girl, 
 but an amiable woman, who, like yourself, has seen something 
 of life, and knows how to reckon on its cares, and to be con- 
 tented with its enjoyments." 
 
 "You have said enough," said Maltravers, impatiently; 
 "an experienced woman of the world, whose freshness of 
 hope and heart is gone ! What a picture ! No, to me there 
 is something inexpressibly beautiful in innocence and youth. 
 But you say justly, my years are not those that would make 
 a union with youth desirable or well suited." 
 
 "I do not say that," said Cleveland, taking a pinch of snuff; 
 "but you should avoid great disparity of age, not for the 
 sake of that disparity itself, but because with it is involved 
 discord of temper, pursuits. A very young woman, new to 
 the world, will not be contented with home alone ; you are at 
 once too gentle to curb her wishes, and a little too stern and 
 reserved pardon me for saying so to be quite congenial to 
 very early and sanguine youth." 
 
 "It is true," said Maltravers, with a tone of voice that 
 showed he was struck with the remark ; " but how have we 
 fallen on this subject? let us change it. I have no idea of 
 marriage, the gloomy reminiscence of Florence Lascelles 
 chains me to the past."
 
 142 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " Poor Florence, she might once have suited you ; but now 
 you are older, and would require a calmer and more malleable 
 temper." 
 
 " Peace, I implore you ! " 
 
 The conversation was changed; and at noon Mr. Merton, 
 who had heard of Cleveland's arrival, called at Burleigh to 
 renew an old acquaintance. He invited them to pass the 
 evening at the rectory; and Cleveland, hearing that whist 
 was a regular amusement, accepted the invitation for his 
 host and himself. But when the evening came, Maltravers 
 pleaded indisposition, and Cleveland was obliged to go alone. 
 
 When the old gentleman returned about midnight, he found 
 Maltravers awaiting him in the library ; and Cleveland, hav- 
 ing won fourteen points, was in a very gay, conversable 
 humour. 
 
 " You perverse hermit ! " said he, " talk of solitude, indeed, 
 with so pleasant a family a hundred yards distant ! You de- 
 serve to be solitary, I have no patience with you. They 
 complain bitterly of your desertion, and say you were, at first, 
 the enfant de la, maison." 
 
 "So you like the Mertons? The clergyman is sensible, but 
 commonplace." 
 
 "A very agreeable man, despite your cynical definition, 
 and plays a very fair rubber. But Vargrave is a first-rate 
 player." 
 
 "Vargrave is there still?" 
 
 " Yes, he breakfasts with us to-morrow, he invited 
 himself." 
 
 "Humph!" 
 
 " He played one rubber ; the rest of the evening he devoted 
 himself to the prettiest girl I ever saw, Miss Cameron. 
 What a sweet face! so modest, yet so intelligent! I talked 
 with her a good deal during the deals in which I cut out. I 
 almost lost my heart to her." 
 
 " So Lord Vargrave devoted himself to Miss Cameron? " 
 
 " To be sure, you know they are to be married soon. 
 Merton told me so. She is very rich. He is the luckiest 
 fellow imaginable, that Vargrave! But he is much too old
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 143 
 
 for her : she seems to think so too. I can't explain why I 
 think it; but by her pretty reserved manner I saw that she 
 tried to keep the gay minister at a distance : but it would not 
 do. Now, if you were ten years younger, or Miss Cameron 
 ten years older, you might have had some chance of cutting 
 out your old friend." 
 
 " So you think I also am too old for a lover? " 
 
 " For a lover of a girl of seventeen, certainly. You seem 
 touchy on the score of age, Ernest." 
 
 "Not I;" and Maltravers laughed. 
 
 "No? There was a young gentleman present, who, I think, 
 Vargrave might really find a dangerous rival, a Colonel 
 Legard, one of the handsomest men I ever saw in my life ; 
 just the style to turn a romantic young lady's head; a mix- 
 ture of the wild and the thoroughbred; black curls, superb 
 eyes, and the softest manners in the world. But, to be sure, 
 he has lived all his life in the best society. Not so his friend, 
 Lord Doltimore, who has a little too much of the green-room 
 lounge and French cafe manner for my taste." 
 
 " Doltimore, Legard, names new to me ; I never met them 
 at the rectory." 
 
 "Possibly they are staying at Admiral Legard's, in the 
 neighbourhood. Miss Merton made their acquaintance at 
 Knaresdean. A good old lady the most perfect Mrs. 
 Grundy one would wish to meet with who owns the mono- 
 syllabic appellation of Hare (and who, being my partner, 
 trumped my king!) assured me that Lord Doltimore was des- 
 perately in love with Caroline Merton. By the way, now, 
 there is a young lady of a proper age for you, handsome and 
 clever, too." 
 
 "You talk of antidotes to matrimony; and so Miss 
 Cameron " 
 
 " Oh, no more of Miss Cameron now, or I shall sit up all 
 night; she has half turned my head. I can't help pitying 
 her, married to one so careless and worldly as Lord Var- 
 grave, thrown so young into the whirl of London. Poor 
 thing! she had better have fallen in love with Legard, 
 which I dare say she will do, after all. Well, good-night!"
 
 144 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PASSION, as frequently is seen, 
 
 Subsiding, settles into spleen ; 
 
 Hence, as the plague of happy life, 
 
 I ran away from party strife. MATTHEW GREEN. 
 
 Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate 
 The dark decrees and will of fate. Ibid. 
 
 ACCORDING to his engagement, Vargrave breakfasted the 
 next morning at Burleigh. Maltravers at first struggled 
 to return his familiar cordiality with equal graciousness. 
 Condemning himself for former and unfounded suspicions, 
 he wrestled against feelings which he could not or would not 
 analyze, but which made Lumley an unwelcome visitor, and 
 connected him with painful associations, whether of the pres- 
 ent or the past. But there were points on which the penetra- 
 tion of Maltravers served to justify his prepossessions. 
 
 The conversation, chiefly sustained by Cleveland and Var- 
 grave, fell on public questions; and as one was opposed to 
 the other, Vargrave's exposition of views and motives had 
 in them so much of the self-seeking of the professional place- 
 man, that they might well have offended any man tinged by 
 the lofty mania of political Quixotism. It was with a strange 
 mixture of feelings that Maltravers listened : at one moment 
 he proudly congratulated himself on having quitted a career 
 where such opinions seemed so well to prosper : at another, 
 his better and juster sentiments awoke the long-dormant com- 
 bative faculty, and he almost longed for the turbulent but 
 sublime arena, in which truths are vindicated and mankind 
 advanced. 
 
 The interview did not serve for that renewal of intimacy 
 which Vargrave appeared to seek, and Maltravers rejoiced 
 when the placeman took his departure.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 145 
 
 Lumley, who was about to pay a morning visit to Lord 
 Doltimore, had borrowed Mr. Merton's stanhope, as being 
 better adapted than any statelier vehicle to get rapidly 
 through the cross-roads which led to Admiral Legard's 
 house; and as he settled himself in the seat, with his ser- 
 vant by his side, he said laughingly, "I almost fancy my- 
 self naughty master Lumley again in this young-man-kind of 
 two-wheeled cockle-boat : not dignified, but rapid, eh? " 
 
 And Lumley's face, as he spoke, had in it so much of frank 
 gayety, and his manner was so simple, that Maltravers could 
 with difficulty fancy him the same man who, five minutes 
 before, had been uttering sentiments that might have become 
 the oldest-hearted intriguer whom the hot -bed of ambition 
 ever reared. 
 
 As soon as Lumley was gone, Maltravers left Cleveland 
 alone to write letters (Cleveland was an exemplary and volu- 
 minous correspondent) and strolled with his dogs into the 
 village. The effect which the presence of Maltravers pro- 
 duced among his peasantry was one that seldom failed to 
 refresh and soothe his more bitter and disturbed thoughts. 
 They had gradually (for the poor are quick-sighted) become 
 sensible of his justice, a finer quality than many that seem 
 more amiable. They felt that his real object was to make 
 them better and happier; and they had learned to see that 
 the means he adopted generally advanced the end. Besides, 
 if sometimes stern, he was never capricious or unreasonable ; 
 and then, too, he would listen patiently and advise kindly. 
 They were a little in awe of him, but the awe only served to 
 make them more industrious and orderly, to stimulate the 
 idle man, to reclaim the drunkard. He was one of the 
 favourers of the small-allotment system, not, indeed, as 
 a panacea, but as one excellent stimulant to exertion and 
 independence ; and his chosen rewards for good conduct were 
 in such comforts as served' to awaken amongst those hitherto 
 passive, dogged, and hopeless a desire to better and improve 
 their condition. Somehow or other, without direct alms, the 
 goodwife found that the little savings in the cracked teapot 
 or the old stocking had greatly increased since the squire's 
 
 10
 
 146 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 return, while her husband came home from his moderate cups 
 at the alehouse more sober and in better temper. Having 
 already saved something was a great reason why he should 
 save more. The new school, too, was so much better con- 
 ducted than the old one; the children actually liked going 
 there; and now and then there were little village feasts 
 connected with the schoolroom; play and work were joint 
 associations. 
 
 And Maltravers looked into his cottages, and looked at the 
 allotment-ground; and it was pleasant to him to say to him- 
 self, "I am not altogether without use in life." But as he 
 pursued his lonely walk, and the glow of self-approval died 
 away with the scenes that called it forth, the cloud again set- 
 tled on his brow; and again he felt that in solitude the pas- 
 sions feed upon the heart. As he thus walked along the green 
 lane, and the insect life of summer rustled audibly among the 
 shadowy hedges and along the thick grass that sprang up on 
 either side, he came suddenly upon a little group that arrested 
 all his attention. 
 
 It was a woman, clad in rags, bleeding, and seemingly 
 insensible, supported by the overseer of the parish and a 
 labourer. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Maltravers. 
 
 " A poor woman has been knocked down and run over by a 
 gentleman in a gig, your honour, " replied the overseer. " He 
 stopped, half an hour ago, at my house to tell me that she 
 was lying on the road; and he has given me two sovereigns 
 for her, your honour. But, poor cretur! she was too heavy 
 for me to carry her, and I was forced to leave her and call 
 Tom to help me." 
 
 "The gentleman might have stayed to see what were the 
 consequences of his own act," muttered Maltravers, as he 
 examined the wound in the temple, whence the blood flowed 
 copiously. 
 
 " He said he was in a great hurry, your honour, " said the 
 village official, overhearing Maltravers. " I think it was one 
 of the grand folks up at the parsonage ; for I know it was Mr. 
 Merton's bay horse, he is a hot 'un! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 147 
 
 "Does the poor woman live in the neighbourhood? Do 
 you know her?" asked Maltravers, turning from the con- 
 templation of this new instance of Vargrave's selfishness of 
 character. 
 
 " No ; the old body seems quite a stranger here, a 
 tramper, or beggar, I think, sir. But it won't be a settle- 
 ment if we take her in; and we can carry her to the Chequers, 
 up the village, your honour." 
 
 " What is the nearest house, your own? " 
 
 " Yes ; but we be so busy now ! " 
 
 " She shall not go to your house, and be neglected ; and as 
 for the public-house, it is too noisy : we must move her to the 
 Hall." 
 
 "Your honour! " ejaculated the overseer, opening his eyes. 
 
 "It is not very far; she is severely hurt. Get a hurdle, 
 lay a mattress on it. Make haste, both of you; I will wait 
 here till you return." 
 
 The poor woman was carefully placed on the grass by the 
 road-side, and Maltravers supported her head, while the men 
 hastened to obey his orders. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ALSE from that forked hill, the boasted seat 
 
 Of studious Peace and mild Philosophy, 
 
 Indignant murmurs mote be heard to threat. WEST. 
 
 MR. CLEVELAND wanted to enrich one of his letters with a 
 quotation from Ariosto, which he but imperfectly remem- 
 bered. He had seen the book he wished to refer to in the 
 little study the day before; and he quitted the library to 
 search for it. 
 
 As he was tumbling over some volumes that lay piled on 
 the writing-table, he felt a student's curiosity to discover 
 what now constituted his host's favourite reading. He was 
 surprised to observe that the greater portion of the works
 
 148 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES 
 
 that, by the doubled leaf and the pencilled reference, seemed 
 most frequently consulted, were not of a literary nature, 
 they were chiefly scientific ; and astronomy seemed the chosen 
 science. He then remembered that he had heard Maltravers 
 speaking to a builder, employed on the recent repairs, on the 
 subject of an observatory. "This is very strange," thought 
 Cleveland; "he gives up literature, the rewards of which are 
 in his reach, and turns to science, at an age too late to disci- 
 pline his mind to its austere training." 
 
 Alas! Cleveland did not understand that there are times 
 in life when imaginative minds seek to numb and to blunt 
 imagination. Still less did he feel that, when we per- 
 versely refuse to apply our active faculties to the catholic 
 interests of the world, they turn morbidly into channels of re- 
 search the least akin to their real genius. By the collision 
 of minds alone does each mind discover what is its proper 
 product : left to ourselves, our talents become but intellectual 
 eccentricities. 
 
 Some scattered papers, in the handwriting of Maltravers, 
 fell from one of the volumes. Of these, a few were but alge- 
 braical calculations, or short scientific suggestions, the value 
 of which Mr. Cleveland's studies did not enable him to ascer- 
 tain; but in others they were wild snatches of mournful and 
 impassioned verse, which showed that the old vein of poetry 
 still flowed, though no longer to the daylight. These verses 
 Cleveland thought himself justified in glancing over, they 
 seemed to portray a state of mind which deeply interested, 
 and greatly saddened him. They expressed, indeed, a firm 
 determination to bear up against both the memory and the 
 fear of ill; but mysterious and hinted allusions here and 
 there served to denote some recent and yet existent struggle, 
 revealed by the heart only to the genius. In these partial and 
 imperfect self-communings and confessions, there was the evi- 
 dence of the pining affections, the wasted life, the desolate 
 hearth of the lonely man. Yet so calm was Maltravers him- 
 self, even to his early friend, that Cleveland knew not what 
 to think of the reality of the feelings painted. Had that 
 fervid and romantic spirit been again awakened by a living
 
 ALICE j OR, THE MYSTERIES. 149 
 
 object? If so, where was the object found? The dates affixed 
 to the verses were most recent. But whom had Maltravers 
 seen? Cleveland's thoughts turned to Caroline Merton, to 
 Evelyn; but when he had spoken of both, nothing in the 
 countenance, the manner, of Maltravers had betrayed emo- 
 tion. And once the heart of Maltravers had so readily be- 
 trayed itself! Cleveland knew not how pride, years, and 
 suffering school the features, and repress the outward signs 
 of what pass within. While thus engaged, the door of the 
 study opened abruptly, and the servant announced Mr. 
 Merton. 
 
 " A thousand pardons, " said the courteous rector. " I fear 
 we disturb you; but Admiral Legard and Lord Doltimore, 
 who called on us this morning, were so anxious to see Bur- 
 leigh, I thought I might take the liberty. We have come 
 over quite in a large party, taken the place by storm. Mr. 
 Maltravers is out, I hear; but you will let us see the house. 
 My allies are already in the hall, examining the armour." 
 
 Cleveland, ever sociable and urbane, answered suitably, and 
 went with Mr. Merton into the hall, where Caroline, her little 
 sisters, Evelyn, Lord Doltimore, Admiral Legard, and his 
 nephew were assembled. 
 
 " Very proud to be my host's representative and your 
 guide," said Cleveland. "Your visit, Lord Doltimore, is 
 indeed an agreeable surprise. Lord Vargrave left us an 
 hour or so since to call on you at Admiral Legaid's: we 
 buy our pleasure with his disappointment." 
 
 "It is very unfortunate," said the admiral, a bluff, harsh- 
 looking old gentleman; "but we were not aware, till we saw 
 Mr. Merton, of the honour Lord Vargrave has done us. I 
 can't think how we missed him on the road." 
 
 "My dear uncle," said Colonel Legard, in a peculiarly sweet 
 and agreeable tone of voice, " you forget we came three miles 
 round by the high road ; and Mr. Merton says that Lord Var- 
 grave took the short cut by Langley End. My uncle, Mr. 
 Cleveland, never feels in safety upon land, unless the road is 
 as wide as the British Channel, and the horses go before the 
 wind at the rapid pace of two knots and a half an hour! "
 
 150 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "I just wish I had you at sea, Mr. Jackanapes," said the 
 admiral, looking grimly at his handsome nephew, while he 
 shook his cane at him. 
 
 The nephew smiled j and, falling back, conversed with 
 Evelyn. 
 
 The party were now shown over the house; and Lord Dolti- 
 more was loud in its praises. It was like a chateau he had 
 once hired in Normandy, it had a French character; those 
 old chairs were in excellent taste, quite the style of Francis 
 the First. 
 
 "I know no man I respect more than Mr. Maltravers," 
 quoth the admiral. "Since he has been amongst us this 
 time, he has been a pattern to us country gentlemen. He 
 would make an excellent colleague for Sir John. We really 
 must get him to stand against that young puppy who is mem- 
 ber of the House of Commons only because his father is a peer, 
 and never votes more than twice a session." 
 
 Mr. Merton looked grave. 
 
 " I wish to Heaven you could persuade him to stay amongst 
 you," said Cleveland. "He has half taken it into his head to 
 part with Burleigh ! " 
 
 " Part with Burleigh ! " exclaimed Evelyn, turning abruptly 
 from the handsome colonel, in whose conversation she had 
 hitherto seemed absorbed. 
 
 " My very ejaculation when I heard him say so, my dear 
 young lady." 
 
 "I wish he would," said Lord Doltiniore hastily, and glan- 
 cing towards Caroline. " I should much like to buy it. What 
 do you think would be the purchase-money?" 
 
 "Don't talk so cold-bloodedly," said the admiral, letting 
 the point of his cane fall with grezft emphasis on the floor. 
 " I can't bear to see old families deserting their old places, 
 quite wicked. You buy Burleigh! have not you got a country- 
 seat of your own, my lord? Go and live there, and take Mr. 
 Maltravers for your model, you could not have a better." 
 
 Lord Doltimore sneered, coloured, settled his neckcloth, 
 and turning round to Colonel Legard, whispered, "Legard, 
 your good uncle is a bore."
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 151 
 
 Legard looked a little offended, and made no reply. 
 
 "But," said Caroline, coming to the relief of her admirer, 
 "if Mr. Maltravers will sell the place, surely he could not 
 have a better successor." 
 
 "He sha'n't sell the place, ma'am, and that's poz!" cried 
 the admiral. " The whole county shall sign a round-robin to 
 tell him it's a shame; and if any one dares to buy it we '11 
 send him to Coventry." 
 
 Miss Merton laughed, but looked round the old wainscot 
 walls with unusual interest; she thought it would be a fine 
 thing to be Lady of Burleigh! 
 
 "And what is that picture so carefully covered up?" said 
 the admiral, as they now stood in the library. 
 
 "The late Mrs. Maltravers, Ernest's mother," replied 
 Cleveland, slowly. "He dislikes it to be shown to stran- 
 gers: the other is a Digby." 
 
 Evelyn looked towards the veiled portrait, and thought of 
 her first interview with Maltravers; but the soft voice of 
 Colonel Legard murmured in her ear, and her revery was 
 broken. 
 
 Cleveland eyed the colonel, and muttered to himself, "Var- 
 grave should keep a sharp look-out." 
 
 They had now finished their round of the show-apartments 
 which indeed had little but their antiquity and old por- 
 traits to recommend them and were in a lobby at the back 
 of the house, communicating with a courtyard, two sides of 
 which were occupied with the stables. The sight of the 
 stables reminded Caroline of the Arab horses; and at the 
 word " horses " Lord Doltimore seized Legard's arm and car- 
 ried him off to inspect the animals. Caroline, her father, 
 and the admiral followed. Mr. Cleveland happened not to 
 have on his walking-shoes; and the flagstones in the court- 
 yard looked damp ; and Mr. Cleveland, like most old bache- 
 lors, was prudently afraid of cold ; so he excused himself, and 
 stayed behind. He was talking to Evelyn about the Digbys, 
 and full of anecdotes about Sir Kenelm at the moment the 
 rest departed so abruptly; and Evelyn was interested, s/> she 
 insisted on keeping him company.
 
 152 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 The old gentleman was flattered; he thought it excellent 
 breeding in Miss Cameron. The children ran out to reneAv 
 acquaintance with the peacock, who, perched on an old stir- 
 rup-stone, was sunning his gay plumage in the noon-day. 
 
 "It is astonishing," said Cleveland, "how certain family 
 features are transmitted from generation to generation ! Mal- 
 travers has still the forehead and eyebrows of the Digbys, 
 that peculiar, brooding, thoughtful forehead, which you ob- 
 served in the picture of Sir Kenelm. Once, too, he had much 
 the same dreaming character of mind, but he has lost that, in 
 some measure at least. He has fine qualities, Miss Cameron, 
 I have known him since he was born. I trust his career is 
 not yet closed ; could he but form ties that would bind him to 
 England, I should indulge in higher expectations than I did 
 even when the wild boy turned half the heads in Gb'ttingen. 
 
 "But we were talking of family portraits: there is one in 
 the entrance-hall, which perhaps you have not observed; it is 
 half obliterated by damp and time, yet it is of a remarkable 
 personage, connected with Maltravers by ancestral intermar- 
 riages, Lord Falkland, the Falkland of Clarendon; a man 
 weak in character, but made most interesting by history, 
 utterly unfitted for the severe ordeal of those stormy times ; 
 sighing for peace when his whole soul should have been in 
 war; and repentant alike whether with the Parliament or the 
 king, but still a personage of elegant and endearing associa- 
 tions; a student-soldier, with a high heart and a gallant spirit. 
 Come and look at his features, homely and worn, but with 
 a characteristic air of refinement and melancholy thought." 
 
 Thus running on, the agreeable old gentleman drew Evelyn 
 into the outer hall. Upon arriving there, through a small 
 passage, which opened upon the hall, they were surprised to 
 find the old housekeeper and another female servant standing 
 by a rude kind of couch on which lay the form of the poor 
 woman described in the last chapter. Maltravers and two 
 other men were also there ; and Maltravers himself was giv- 
 ing orders to his servants, while he leaned over the sufferer, 
 who was now conscious both of pain and the service rendered 
 to her. As Evelyn stopped abruptly, and in surprise, oppo-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 153 
 
 site and almost at the foot of the homely litter, the woman 
 raised herself up on one arm, and gazed at her with a wild 
 stare ; then muttering some incoherent words which appeared 
 to betoken delirium, she sank back, and was again insensible. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HENCE oft to win some stubborn maid, 
 
 Still does the wanton god assume 
 The martial air, the gay cockade, 
 
 The sword, the shoulder-knot, and plume. 
 
 MARRIOTT. 
 
 THE hall was cleared, the sufferer had been removed, and 
 Maltravers was left alone with Cleveland and Evelyn. 
 
 He simply and shortly narrated the adventure of the morn- 
 ing; but he did not mention that Vargrave had been the cause 
 of the injury his new guest had sustained. Now this event 
 had served to make a mutual and kindred impression on Eve- 
 lyn and Maltravers. The humanity of the latter, natural and 
 commonplace as it was, was an endearing recollection to 
 Evelyn, precisely as it showed that his cold theory of dis- 
 dain towards the mass did not affect his actual conduct 
 towards individuals. On the other hand, Maltravers had 
 perhaps been yet more impressed with the prompt and ingen- 
 uous sympathy which Evelyn had testified towards the suf- 
 ferer: it had so evidently been her first gracious and womanly 
 impulse to hasten to the side of this humble stranger. In 
 that impulse, Maltravers himself had been almost forgotten; 
 and as the poor woman lay pale and lifeless, and the young 
 Evelyn bent over her in beautiful compassion, Maltravers 
 thought she had never seemed so lovely, so irresistible, in 
 fact, pity in woman is a great beautifier. 
 
 As Maltravers finished his short tale, Evelyn's eyes were 
 fixed upon him with such frank and yet such soft approval,
 
 154 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 that the look went straight to his heart. He quickly turned 
 away, and abruptly changed the conversation. 
 
 " But how long have you been here, Miss Cameron, and 
 your companions? " 
 
 "We are again intruders ; but this time it was not my 
 fault." 
 
 " No, " said Cleveland, " for a wonder it was male, and not 
 lady-like curiosity that trespassed on Bluebeard's chamber. 
 But, however, to soften your resentment, know that Miss 
 Cameron has brought you a purchaser for Burleigh. Now, 
 then, we can test the sincerity of your wish to part with it. 
 1 assure you, meanwhile, that Miss Cameron was as much 
 shocked at the idea as I was. Were you not? " 
 
 "But you surely have no intention of selling Burleigh?" 
 said Evelyn, anxiously. 
 
 "I fear I do not know my own mind." 
 
 "Well," said Cleveland, "here comes your tempter. Lord 
 Doltimore, let me introduce Mr. Maltravers. " 
 
 Lord Doltimore bowed. 
 
 "Been admiring your horses, Mr. Maltravers. I never saw 
 anything so perfect as the black one; may I ask where you 
 bought him?" 
 
 "It was a present to me," answered Maltravers. 
 
 " A present? " 
 
 " Yes, from one who would not have sold that horse for a 
 king's ransom, an old Arab chief, with whom I formed 
 a kind of friendship in the desert. A wound disabled him 
 from riding, and he bestowed the horse on me, with as much 
 solemn tenderness for the gift as if he had given me his 
 daughter in marriage." 
 
 "I think of travelling in the East," said Lord Doltimore, 
 with much gravity: "I suppose nothing will induce you to 
 sell the black horse? " 
 
 " Lord Doltimore ! " said Maltravers, in a tone of lofty 
 surprise. 
 
 " I do not care for the price, " continued the young noble- 
 man, a little disconcerted. 
 
 " No ; I never sell any horse that has once learned to know
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 155 
 
 me. I would as soon think of selling a friend. In the 
 desert, one's horse is one's friend. I am almost an Arab 
 myself in these matters." 
 
 "But talking of sale and barter reminds me of Burleigh," 
 said Cleveland, maliciously. " Lord Doltimore is a universal 
 buyer. He covets all your goods : he will take the house, if 
 he can't have the stables." 
 
 "I only mean," said Lord Doltimore, rather peevishly, 
 " that if you wish to part with Burleigh, I should like to 
 have the option of purchase. " 
 
 "I will remember it, if I determine to sell the place," 
 answered Maltravers, smiling gravely; "at present I am 
 undecided." 
 
 He turned away towards Evelyn as he spoke, and almost 
 started to observe that she was joined by a stranger, whose 
 approach he had not before noticed, and that stranger a 
 man of such remarkable personal advantages, that, had Mal- 
 travers been in Vargrave's position, he might reasonably have 
 experienced a pang of jealous apprehension. Slightly above 
 the common height; slender, yet strongly formed; set off by 
 every advantage of dress, of air, of the nameless tone and per- 
 vading refinement that sometimes, though not always, springs 
 from early and habitual intercourse with the most polished 
 female society, Colonel Legard, at the age of eight and 
 twenty, had acquired a reputation for beauty almost as popu- 
 lar and as well known as that which men usually acquire by 
 mental qualifications. Yet there was nothing effeminate in 
 his countenance, the symmetrical features of which were 
 made masculine and expressive by the rich olive of the com- 
 plexion, and the close jetty curls of the Antinous-like hair. 
 
 They seemed, as they there stood Evelyn and Legard 
 so well suited to each other in personal advantages, their 
 different styles so happily contrasted; and Legard, at the 
 moment, was regarding her with such respectful admiration, 
 and whispering compliment to her in so subdued a tone, that 
 the dullest observer might have ventured a prophecy by no 
 means agreeable to the hopes of Lumley Lord Vargrave. 
 
 But a feeling or fear of this nature was not that which
 
 156 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 occurred to Maltravers, or dictated his startled exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 Legard looked up as he heard the exclamation, and saw 
 Maltravers, whose back had hitherto been turned towards 
 him. He, too, was evidently surprised, and seemingly con- 
 fused ; the colour mounted to his cheek, and then left it pale. 
 
 "Colonel Legard," said Cleveland, "a thousand apologies 
 for my neglect : I really did not observe you enter, you 
 came round by the front door, I suppose. Let me make you 
 acquainted with Mr. Maltravers." 
 
 Legard bowed low. 
 
 "We have met before," said he, in embarrassed accents: 
 "at Venice, I think!" 
 
 Maltravers inclined his head rather stiffly at first, but then, 
 as if moved by a second impulse, held out his hand cordially. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Ernest, here you are ! " cried Sophy, bounding 
 into the hall, followed by Mr. Merton, the old admiral, Caro- 
 line, and Cecilia. 
 
 The interruption seemed welcome and opportune. The 
 admiral, with blunt cordiality, expressed his pleasure at 
 being made known to Mr. Maltravers. 
 
 The conversation grew general; refreshments were proffered 
 and declined; the visit drew to its close. 
 
 It so happened that as the guests departed, Evelyn, from 
 whose side the constant colonel had insensibly melted away, 
 lingered last, save, indeed, the admiral, who was discussing 
 with Cleveland a new specific for the gout. And as Mal- 
 travers stood on the steps, Evelyn turned to him with all her 
 beautiful naivete of mingled timidity and kindness, and 
 said, 
 
 " And are we really never to see you again ; never to hear 
 again your tales of Egypt and Arabia; never to talk over 
 Tasso and Dante? No books, no talk, no disputes, no quar- 
 rels? What have we done? I thought we had made it up, 
 and yet you are still unforgiving. Give me a good scold, and 
 be friends ! " 
 
 " Friends ! you have no friend more anxious, more devoted 
 than I am. Young, rich, fascinating as you are, you will
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 157 
 
 carve no impression on human heartb deeper than that you 
 have graven here ! " 
 
 Carried away by the charm of her childlike familiarity and 
 enchanting sweetness, Maltravers had said more than he 
 intended; yet his eyes, his emotion, said more than his 
 words. 
 
 Evelyn coloured deeply, and her whole manner changed. 
 However, she turned away, and saying, with a forced gayety, 
 "Well, then, you will not desert us; we shall see you once 
 more? " hurried down the steps to join her companions. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SEE how the skilful lover spreads his toils. STILLINGFLEET. 
 
 THE party had not long returned to the rectory, and the 
 admiral's carriage was ordered, when Lord Vargrave made 
 his appearance. He descanted with gay good-humour on his 
 long drive, the bad roads, and his disappointment at the con- 
 tretemps that awaited him; then, drawing aside Colonel 
 Legard, who seemed unusually silent and abstracted, he 
 said to him, 
 
 " My dear colonel, my visit this morning was rather to you 
 than to Doltimore. I confess that I should like to see your 
 abilities enlisted on the side of the Government; and know- 
 ing that the post of Storekeeper to the Ordnance will be 
 
 vacant in a day or two by the promotion of Mr. , I wrote 
 
 to secure the refusal. To-day's post brings me the answer. 
 I offer the place to you ; and I trust, before long, to procure 
 you also a seat in parliament. But you must start for Lon- 
 don immediately." 
 
 A week ago, and Legard's utmost ambition would have been 
 amply gratified by this post; he now hesitated. 
 
 "My dear lord," said he, "I cannot say how grateful I 
 feel for your kindness; but but "
 
 158 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Enough; no thanks, my dear Legard. Can you go to 
 town to-morrow?" 
 
 "Indeed," said Legard, "I fear not; I must consult my 
 uncle." 
 
 "I can answer for him; I sounded him before I wrote. 
 Reflect! You are not rich, my dear Legard; it is an excel- 
 lent opening : a seat in parliament, too ! Why, what can be 
 your reason for hesitation? " 
 
 There was something meaning and inquisitive in the tone 
 of voice in which this question was put that brought the 
 colour to the colonel's cheek. He knew not well what to 
 reply ; and he began, too, to think that he ought not to refuse 
 the appointment. Nay, would his uncle, on whom he was 
 dependent, consent to such a refusal? Lord Vargrave saw 
 the irresolution, and proceeded. He spent ten minutes in 
 combating every scruple, every objection: he placed all the 
 advantages of the post, real or imaginary, in every conceiva- 
 ble point of view before the colonel's eyes; he sought to flat- 
 ter, to wheedle, to coax, to weary him into accepting it ; and 
 he at length partially succeeded. The colonel petitioned for 
 three days' consideration, which Vargrave reluctantly acceded 
 to; and Legard then stepped into his uncle's carriage, with 
 the air rather of a martyr than a maiden placeman. 
 
 "Aha!" said Vargrave, chuckling to himself as he took a 
 turn in the grounds, "I have got rid of that handsome knave; 
 and now I shall have Evelyn all to myself! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I AM forfeited to eternal disgrace if yon do not commiserate. 
 
 Go to, then, raise, recover. BEN JONSON : Poetaster. 
 
 THE next morning Admiral Legard and his nephew were 
 conversing in the little cabin consecrated by the name of the 
 admiral's "own room."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 159 
 
 " Yes, " said the veteran, " it would be moonshine and mad- 
 ness not to accept Vargrave's offer; though one can see through 
 such a millstone as that with half an eye. His lordship is 
 jealous of such a fine, handsome young fellow as you are, 
 and very justly. But as long as he is under the same roof 
 with Miss Cameron, you will have no opportunity to pay your 
 court; when he goes, you can always manage to be in her 
 neighbourhood ; and then, you know puppy that you are 
 her business will be very soon settled." And the admiral 
 eyed the handsome colonel with grim fondness. 
 
 Legard sighed. 
 
 "Have you any commands at ?" said he; "I am just 
 
 going to canter over there before Doltimore is up." 
 
 "Sad lazy dog, your friend." 
 
 "I shall be back by twelve." 
 
 "What are you going to for? " 
 
 "Brookes, the farrier, has a little spaniel, King Charles's 
 breed. Miss Cameron is fond of dogs. I can send it to her, 
 with my compliments, it will be a sort of leave-taking." 
 
 "Sly rogue; ha, ha, ha! d d sly; ha, ha!" and the 
 admiral punched the slender waist of his nephew, and 
 laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 "Good-by, sir." 
 
 " Stop, George ; I forgot to ask you a question ; you never 
 told me you knew Mr. Maltravers. Why don't you cultivate 
 his acquaintance? " 
 
 " We met at Venice accidentally. 1 did not know his name 
 then ; he left just as I arrived. As you say, I ought to culti- 
 vate his acquaintance." 
 
 " Fine character ! " 
 
 " Very ! " said Legard, with energy, as he abruptly quitted 
 the room. 
 
 George Legard was an orphan. His father the admiral's 
 elder brother had been a spendthrift man of fashion, with 
 a tolerably large unentailed estate. He married a duke's 
 daughter without a sixpence. Estates are troublesome, 
 Mr. Legard's was sold. On the purchase-money the happy 
 pair lived for some years in great comfort, when Mr. Legard
 
 160 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 died of a brain fever; and his disconsolate widow found her- 
 self alone in the world with a beautiful little curly-headed 
 boy, and an annuity of one thousand a year, for which her 
 settlement had been exchanged. All the rest of the fortune 
 was gone, a discovery not made till Mr. Legard's death. 
 Lady Louisa did not long survive the loss of her husband and 
 her station in society; her income of course died with herself. 
 Her only child was brought up in the house of his grand- 
 father, the duke, till he was of age to hold the office of 
 king's page; thence, as is customary, he was promoted to a 
 commission in the Guards. To the munificent emoluments 
 of his pay, the ducal family liberally added an allowance of 
 two hundred a year; upon which income Cornet Legard con- 
 trived to get very handsomely in debt. The extraordinary 
 beauty of his person, his connections, and his manners ob- 
 tained him all the celebrity that fashion can bestow; but 
 poverty is a bad thing. Luckily, at this time, his uncle the 
 admiral returned from sea, to settle for the rest of his life in 
 England. 
 
 Hitherto, the admiral had taken no notice of George. He 
 himself had married a merchant's daughter with a fair por- 
 tion ; and had been blessed with two children, who monopo- 
 lized all his affection. But there seemed some mortality in 
 the Legard family; in one year after returning to England 
 and settling in B shire, the admiral found himself wife- 
 less and childless. He then turned to his orphan nephew; 
 and soon became fonder of him than he had ever been of his 
 own children. The admiral, though in easy circumstances, 
 was not wealthy; nevertheless, he advanced the money requi- 
 site lor George's rise in the army, and doubled the allowance 
 bestowed by the duke. His grace heard of this generosity, 
 and discovered that he himself had a very large family grow- 
 ing up; that the marquess was going to be married, and 
 required an increase of income; that he had already behaved 
 most handsomely to his nephew; and the result of this dis- 
 covery was that the duke withdrew the two hundred a year. 
 Legard, however, who looked on his uncle as an exhaustless 
 mine, went on breaking hearts and making debts till one
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 161 
 
 morning he woke in the Bench. The admiral was hastily 
 summoned to London. He arrived; paid off the duns a 
 kindness which seriously embarrassed him swore, scolded, 
 and cried; and finally insisted that Legard should give up 
 that d d coxcomb regiment, in which he was now captain, 
 retire on half-pay, and learn economy and a change of habits 
 on the Continent. 
 
 The admiral, a rough but good-natured man on the whole, 
 had two or three little peculiarities. In the first place, he 
 piqued himself on a sort of John Bull independence; was a 
 bit of a Radical (a strange anomaly in an admiral) which 
 was owing, perhaps, to two or three young lords having been 
 put over his head in the earlier part of his career; and he 
 made it a point with his nephew (of whose affection he was 
 jealous) to break with those fine grand connections, who 
 plunged him into a sea of extravagance, and then never 
 threw him a rope to save him from drowning. 
 
 In the second place, without being stingy, the admiral had 
 a good deal of economy in his disposition. He was not a man 
 to allow his nephew to ruin him. He had an extraordinarily 
 old-fashioned horror of gambling, a polite habit of George's ; 
 and he declared positively that his nephew must, while a bach- 
 elor, learn to live upon seven hundred a year. Thirdly, the 
 admiral could be a very stern, stubborn, passionate old brute ; 
 and when he coolly told George, " Harkye, you young puppy, 
 if you get into debt again if you exceed the very handsome 
 allowance I make you I shall just cut you off with a shil- 
 ling," George was fully aware that his uncle was one who 
 would rigidly keep his word. 
 
 However, it was something to be out of debt, and one of 
 the handsomest men of his age; and George Legard, whose 
 rank in the Guards made him a colonel in the line, left Eng- 
 land tolerably contented with the state of affairs. 
 
 Despite the foibles of his youth, George Legard had many 
 high and generous qualities. Society had done its best to 
 spoil a fine and candid disposition, with abilities far above 
 mediocrity; but society had only partially succeeded. Still, 
 unhappily, dissipation had grown a habit with him; all his 
 
 11
 
 162 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 talents were of a nature that brought a ready return. At his 
 age, it was but natural that the praise of salons should retain 
 all its sweetness. 
 
 In addition to those qualities which please the softer sex, 
 Legard was a good whist player, superb at billiards, famous 
 as a shot, unrivalled as a horseman, in fact, an accomplished 
 man, " who did everything so devilish well! " These accom- 
 plishments did not stand him in much stead in Italy; and, 
 though with reluctance and remorse, he took again to gam- 
 bling, he really had nothing else to do. 
 
 In Venice there was, one year, established a society some- 
 what on the principle of the salon at Paris. Some rich Vene- 
 tians belonged to it; but it was chiefly for the convenience of 
 foreigners, French, English, and Austrians. Here there 
 was select gaming in one room, while another apartment 
 served the purposes of a club. Many who never played 
 belonged to this society ; but still they were not the habituts. 
 
 Legard played : he won at first, then he lost, then he won 
 again; it was a pleasant excitement. One night, after win- 
 ning largely at roulette, he sat down to play ecarte with a 
 Frenchman of high rank. Legard played well at this, as at 
 all scientific games ; he thought he should make a fortune out 
 of the Frenchman. The game excited much interest; the 
 crowd gathered round the table; bets ran high; the vanity 
 of Legard, as well as his interest, was implicated in the con- 
 flict. It was soon evident that the Frenchman played as well 
 as the Englishman. The stakes, at first tolerably high, were 
 doubled. Legard betted freely. Cards went against him ; he 
 lost much, lost all that he had, lost more than he had, lost 
 several hundreds, which he promised to pay the next morn- 
 ing. The table was broken up, the spectators separated. 
 Amongst the latter had been one Englishman, introduced 
 into the club for the first time that night. He had neither 
 played nor betted, but had observed the game with a quiet 
 and watchful interest. This Englishman lodged at the same 
 hotel as Legard. He was at Venice only for a day; the prom- 
 ised sight of a file of English newspapers had drawn him to 
 the club; the general excitement around had attracted him
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 163 
 
 to the table ; and once there, the spectacle of human emotions 
 exercised its customary charm. 
 
 On ascending the stairs that conducted to his apartment, 
 the Englishman heard a deep groan in a room the door of 
 which was ajar. He paused, the sound was repeated; he 
 gently pushed open the door and saw Legard seated by a 
 table, while a glass on the opposite wall reflected his working 
 and convulsed countenance, with his hands trembling visibly, 
 as they took a brace of pistols from the case. 
 
 The Englishman recognized the loser at the club; and at 
 once divined the act that his madness or his despair dictated. 
 Legard twice took up one of the pistols, and twice laid it 
 down irresolute; the third time he rose with a start, raised 
 the weapon to his head, and the next moment it was wrenched 
 from his grasp. 
 
 " Sit down, sir ! " said the stranger, in a loud and command- 
 ing voice. 
 
 Legard, astonished and abashed, sank once more into his 
 seat, and stared sullenly and half-unconsciously at his 
 countryman. 
 
 "You have lost your money," said the Englishman, after 
 calmly replacing the pistols in their case, which he locked, 
 putting the key into his pocket; "and that is misfortune 
 enough for one night. If you had won, and ruined your 
 opponent, you would be excessively happy, and go to bed, 
 thinking Good Luck (which is the representative of Provi- 
 dence) watched over you. For my part, I think you ought to 
 be very thankful that you are not the winner." 
 
 "Sir," said Legard, recovering from his surprise, and begin- 
 ning to feel resentment, " I do not understand this intrusion 
 in my apartments. You have saved me, it is true, from death, 
 but life is a worse curse." 
 
 "Young man, no! moments in life are agony, but life itself 
 is a blessing. Life is a mystery that defies all calculation. 
 You can never say, * To-day is wretched, therefore to-morrow 
 must be the same ! ' And for the loss of a little gold you, in 
 the full vigour of youth, with all the future before you, will 
 dare to rush into the chances of eternity! You, who have
 
 164 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 never, perhaps, thought what .eternity is! Yet," added the 
 stranger, in a soft and melancholy voice, " you are young and 
 beautiful, perhaps the pride and hope of others ! Have you 
 no tie, no affection, no kindred; are you lord of yourself?" 
 
 Legard was moved by the tone of the stranger, as well as 
 by the words. 
 
 "It is not the loss of money," said he, gloomily, "it is 
 the loss of honour. To-morrow I must go forth a shunned 
 and despised man, I, a gentleman and a soldier ! They 
 may insult me and I have no reply ! " 
 
 The Englishman seemed to muse, for his brow lowered, and 
 he made no answer. Legard threw himself back, overcome 
 with his own excitement, and wept like a child. The stran- 
 ger, who imagined himself above the indulgence of emotion 
 (vain man!), woke from his revery at this burst of passion. 
 He gazed at first (I grieve to write) with a curl of the haughty 
 lip that had in it contempt; but it passed quickly away; and 
 the hard man remembered that he too had been young and 
 weak, and his own errors greater perhaps than those of the 
 one he had ventured to despise. He walked to and fro the 
 room, still without speaking. At last he approached the game- 
 ster, and took his hand. 
 
 "What is your debt?" he asked gently. 
 
 "What matters it? more than I can pay." 
 
 " If life is a trust, so is wealth : you have the first in charge 
 for others, / may have the last. What is the debt? " 
 
 Legard started ; it was a strong struggle between shame and 
 hope. " If I could borrow it, I could repay it hereafter, 
 I know I could; I would not think of it otherwise." 
 
 " Very well, so be it, I will lend you the money on one 
 condition. Solemnly promise me, on your faith as a soldier 
 and a gentleman, that you will not, for ten years to come 
 even if you grow rich, and can ruin others touch card or 
 dice-box. Promise me that you will shun all gaming for 
 gain, under whatever disguise, whatever appellation. I will 
 take your word as my bond." 
 
 Legard, overjoyed, and scarcely trusting his senses, gave 
 the promise.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 165 
 
 "Sleep then, to-night, in hope and assurance of the mor- 
 row," said the Englishman: "let this event be an omen to 
 you, that while there is a future there is no despair. One 
 word more, I do not want your thanks! it is easy to be gen- 
 erous at the expense of justice. Perhaps I have been so now. 
 This sum, which is to save your life a life you so little 
 value might have blessed fifty human beings, better men 
 than either the giver or receiver. What is given to error may 
 perhaps be a wrong to virtue. When you would ask others 
 to support a career of blind and selfish extravagance, pause 
 and think over the breadless lips this wasted gold would have 
 fed! the joyless hearts it would have comforted! You talk 
 of repaying me: if the occasion offer, do so; if not if we 
 never meet again, and you have it in your power, pay it for 
 me to the Poor! And now, farewell." 
 
 " Stay, give me the name of my preserver ! Mine is " 
 
 "Hush! what matter names? This is a sacrifice we have 
 both made to honour. You will sooner recover your self- 
 esteem (and without self-esteem there is neither faith nor 
 honour), when you think that your family, your connections, 
 are spared all association with your own error; that I may 
 hear them spoken of, that I may mix with them without 
 fancying that they owe me gratitude." 
 
 "Your own name then?" said Legard, deeply penetrated 
 with the delicate generosity of his benefactor. 
 
 " Tush ! " muttered the stranger impatiently as he closed 
 the door. 
 
 The next morning when he awoke Legard saw upon the 
 table a small packet; it contained a sum that exceeded the 
 debt named. 
 
 On the envelope was written, "Remember the bond." 
 
 The stranger had already quitted Venice. He had not 
 travelled through the Italian cities under his own name, for 
 he had just returned from the solitudes of the East, and was 
 not yet hardened to the publicity of the gossip which in towns 
 haunted by his countrymen attended a well-known name ; that 
 given to Legard by the innkeeper, mutilated by Italian pro- 
 nunciation, the young man had never heard before, and soon
 
 166 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 forgot. He paid his debts, and lie scrupulously kept his 
 word. The adventure of that night went far, indeed, to 
 reform and ennoble the mind and habits of George Legard. 
 Time passed, and he never met his benefactor, till in the halls 
 of Burleigh he recognized the stranger in Maltravers. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHY value, then, that strength of mind they boast, 
 As often varying, and as often lost ' 
 
 HAWKINS BROWNE (translated by SOAME JENYNS). 
 
 MALTRAVERS was lying at length, with his dogs around him, 
 under a beech-tree that threw its arms over one of the calm 
 still pieces of water that relieved the groves of Burleigh, 
 when Colonel Legard spied him from the bridle-road which 
 led through the park to the house. The colonel dismounted, 
 threw the rein over his arm; and at the sound of the hoofs 
 Maltravers turned, saw the visitor, and rose. He held out 
 his hand to Legard, and immediately began talking of indif- 
 ferent matters. 
 
 Legard was embarrassed; but his nature was not one to 
 profit by the silence of a benefactor. "Mr. Maltravers," said 
 he, with graceful emotion, " though you have not yet allowed 
 me an opportunity to allude to it, do not think I am ungrate- 
 ful for the service you rendered me." 
 
 Maltravers looked grave, but made no reply. Legard 
 resumed, with a heightened colour, 
 
 " I cannot say how I regret that it is not yet in my power 
 to discharge my debt ; but " 
 
 " When it is, you will do so. Pray think no more of it. 
 Are you going to the rectory?" 
 
 "No, not this morning; in fact, I leave B shire to- 
 morrow. Pleasant family, the Mertons."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 167 
 
 " And Miss Cameron " 
 
 " Is certainly beautiful, and very rich. How could she 
 ever think of marrying Lord Vargrave, so much older, she 
 who could have so many admirers?" 
 
 "Not, surely, while betrothed to another?" 
 
 This was a refinement which Legard, though an honourable 
 man as men go, did not quite understand. "Oh," said he, 
 " that was by some eccentric old relation, her father-in-law, 
 I think. Do you think she is bound by such an engagement? " 
 
 Maltravers made no reply, but amused himself by throwing 
 a stick into the water, and sending one of his dogs after it. 
 
 Legard looked on, and his affectionate disposition yearned 
 to make advances which something distant in the manner of 
 Maltravers chilled and repelled. 
 
 When Legard was gone, Maltravers followed him with his 
 eyes. "And this is the man whom Cleveland thinks Evelyn 
 could love! I could forgive her marrying Vargrave. Inde- 
 pendently of the conscientious feeling that may belong to the 
 engagement, Vargrave has wit, talent, intellect; and this man 
 has nothing but the skin of the panther. Was I wrong to 
 save him? No. Every human life, I suppose, has its uses. 
 But Evelyn I could despise her if her heart was the fool of 
 the eye ! " 
 
 These comments were most unjust to Legard ; but they were 
 just of that kind of injustice which the man of talent often 
 commits against the man of external advantages, and which 
 the latter still more often retaliates on the man of talent. 
 As Maltravers thus soliloquized, he was accosted by Mr. 
 Cleveland. 
 
 " Come, Ernest, you must not cut these unfortunate Mertons 
 any longer. If you continue to do so, do you know what Mrs. 
 Hare and the world will say? " 
 
 "No what?" 
 
 "That you have been refused by Miss Merton." 
 
 "That would be a calumny!" said Ernest, smiling. 
 
 "Or that you are hopelessly in love with Miss Cameron." 
 
 Maltravers started ; his proud heart swelled ; he pulled his 
 hat over his brows, and said, after a short pause,
 
 168 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Hare and the world must not have it all their 
 own way; and so, whenever you go to the rectory, take me 
 with you." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE more he strove 
 To advance his suit, the farther from her love. 
 
 DBYDEN : Theodore and Honoria. 
 
 THE line of conduct which Vargrave now adopted with 
 regard to Evelyn was craftily conceived and carefully pur- 
 sued. He did not hazard a single syllable which might draw 
 on him a rejection of his claims ; but at the same time no lover 
 could be more constant, more devoted, in attentions. In the 
 presence of others, there was an air of familiar intimacy that 
 seemed to arrogate a right, which to her he scrupulously 
 shunned to assert. Nothing could be more respectful, nay, 
 more timid, than his language, or more calmly confident than 
 his manner. Not having much vanity, nor any very acute 
 self-conceit, he did not delude himself into the idea of win- 
 ning Evelyn's affections; he rather sought to entangle her 
 judgment, to weave around her web upon web, not the less 
 dangerous for being invisible. He took the compact as a 
 matter of course, as something not to be broken by any possi- 
 ble chance; her hand was to be his as a right: it was her 
 heart that he so anxiously sought to gain. But this distinc- 
 tion was so delicately drawn, and insisted upon so little in 
 any tangible form, that, whatever Evelyn's wishes for an 
 understanding, a much more experienced woman would have 
 been at a loss to ripen one. 
 
 Evelyn longed to confide in Caroline, to consult her; but 
 Caroline, though still kind, had grown distant. "I wish," 
 said Evelyn, one night as she sat in Caroline's dressing-room, 
 "I wish that I knew what tone to take with Lord Vargrave.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 169 
 
 I feel more and more convinced that a union between us is 
 impossible; and yet, precisely because he does not press it, 
 am I unable to tell him so. I wish you could undertake that 
 task; you seem such friends with him." 
 
 "I!" said Caroline, changing countenance. 
 
 " Yes, you ! Nay, do not blush, or I shall think you envy 
 me. Could you not save us both from the pain that otherwise 
 must come sooner or later? " 
 
 "Lord Vargrave would not thank me for such an act of 
 friendship. Besides, Evelyn, consider, it is scarcely possi- 
 ble to break off this engagement now." 
 
 " Now ! and why now?" said Evelyn, astonished. 
 
 "The world believes it so implicitly. Observe, whoever 
 sits next you rises if Lord Vargrave approaches; the neigh- 
 bourhood talk of nothing else but your marriage; and your 
 fate, Evelyn, is not pitied." 
 
 " I will leave this place ! I will go back to the cottage ! I 
 cannot bear this!" said Evelyn, passionately wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 " You do not love another, I am sure : not young Mr. Hare, 
 with his green coat and straw-coloured whiskers ; or Sir Henry 
 Foxglove, with his how-d'ye-do like a view-halloo; perhaps, 
 indeed, Colonel Legard, he is handsome. What! do you 
 blush at his name? No; you say 'not Legard:' who else 
 is there?" 
 
 "You are cruel; you trifle with me! " said Evelyn, in tear- 
 ful reproach; and she rose to go to her own room. 
 
 "My dear girl!" said Caroline, touched by her evident 
 pain ; " learn from me if I may say so that marriages are 
 not made in heaven ! Yours will be as fortunate as earth can 
 bestow. A love-match is usually the least happy of all. Our 
 foolish sex demand so much in love; and love, after all, is 
 but one blessing among many. Wealth and rank remain 
 when love is but a heap of ashes. For my part, I have 
 chosen my destiny and my husband." 
 
 "Your husband!" 
 
 " Yes, you see him in Lord Doltimore. I dare say we shall 
 be as happy as any amorous Corydon and Phyllis." But there
 
 170 ALICE; OB, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 was irony in Caroline's voice as she spoke; and she sighed 
 heavily. Evelyn did not believe her serious ; and the friends 
 parted for the night. 
 
 "Mine is a strange fate! " said Caroline to herself; "I am 
 asked by the man whom I love, and who professes to love me, 
 to bestow myself on another, and to plead for him to a younger 
 and fairer bride. Well, I will obey him in the first; the last 
 is a bitterer task, and I cannot perform it earnestly. Yet Var- 
 grave has a strange power over me ; and when I look round 
 the world, I see that he is right. In these most commonplace 
 artifices, there is yet a wild majesty that charms and fasci- 
 nates me. It is something to rule the world: and his and 
 mine are natures formed to do so." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SMOKE raised with the fume of sighs. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 IT is certain that Evelyn experienced for Maltravers senti- 
 ments which, if not love, might easily be mistaken for it. 
 But whether it were that master-passion, or merely its fanci- 
 ful resemblance, love in early youth and innocent natures, 
 if of sudden growth, is long before it makes itself apparent. 
 Evelyn had been prepared to feel an interest in her solitary 
 neighbour. His mind, as developed in his works, had half 
 formed her own. Her childish adventure with the stranger 
 had never been forgotten. Her present knowledge of Mal- 
 travers was an union of dangerous and often opposite associa- 
 tions, the Ideal and the Real. 
 
 Love, in its first dim and imperfect shape, is but imagina- 
 tion concentrated on one object. It is a genius of the heart, 
 resembling that of the intellect; it appeals to, it stirs up, it 
 evokes, the sentiments and sympathies that lie most latent in 
 our nature. Its sigh is the spirit that moves over the ocean, 
 and arouses the Anadyomene into life. Therefore is it that
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 171 
 
 MIND produces affections deeper than those of external form; 
 therefore it is that women are worshippers of glory, which is 
 the palpable and visible representative of a genius whose 
 operations they cannot always comprehend. Genius has so 
 much in common with love, the imagination that animates 
 one is so much the property of the other, that there is not a 
 surer sign of the existence of genius than the love that it 
 creates and bequeaths. It penetrates deeper than the reason, 
 it binds a nobler captive than the fancy. As the sun upon 
 the dial, it gives to the human heart both its shadow and its 
 light. Nations are its worshippers and wooers; and Posterity 
 learns from its oracles to dream, to aspire, to adore! 
 
 Had Maltravers declared the passion that consumed him, it 
 is probable that it would soon have kindled a return. But his 
 frequent absence, his sustained distance of manner, had served 
 to repress the feelings that in a young and virgin heart rarely 
 flow with much force until they are invited and aroused. Le 
 lesoin d' aimer in girls, is, perhaps, in itself powerful; but is 
 fed by another want, le besoin d'etre aime f If, therefore, 
 Evelyn at present felt love for Maltravers, the love had cer- 
 tainly not passed into the core of life : the tree had not so far 
 struck its roots but what it might have borne transplanting. 
 There was in her enough of the pride of sex to have recoiled 
 from the thought of giving love to one who had not asked the 
 treasure. Capable of attachment, more trustful and there- 
 fore, if less vehement, more beautiful and durable than that 
 which had animated the brief tragedy of Florence Lascelles, 
 she could not have been the unknown correspondent, or 
 revealed the soul, because the features wore a mask. 
 
 It must also be allowed that, in some respects, Evelyn was 
 too young and inexperienced thoroughly to appreciate all that 
 was most truly lovable and attractive in Maltravers. At four 
 and twenty she would, perhaps, have felt no fear mingled with 
 her respect for him; but seventeen and six and thirty is a wide 
 interval! She never felt that there was that difference in 
 years until she had met Legard, and then at once she compre- 
 hended it. With Legard she had moved on equal terms; he 
 was not too wise, too high for her everyday thoughts. He
 
 172 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 less excited her imagination, less attracted her reverence. 
 But, somehow or other, that voice which proclaimed her 
 power, those eyes which never turned from hers, went nearer 
 to her heart. As Evelyn had once said to Caroline, " It was 
 a great enigma! " her own feelings were a mystery to her; 
 and she reclined by the " Golden Waterfalls " without tracing 
 her likeness in the glass of the pool below. 
 
 Maltravers appeared again at the rectory. He joined their 
 parties by day, and his evenings were spent with them as of 
 old. In this I know not precisely what were his motives 
 perhaps he did not know them himself. It might be that his 
 pride was roused; it might be that he could not endure the 
 notion that Lord Vargrave should guess his secret by an ab- 
 sence almost otherwise unaccountable, he could not patiently 
 bear to give Vargrave that triumph; it might be that, in the 
 sternness of his self-esteem, he imagined he had already con- 
 quered all save affectionate interest in Evelyn's fate, and 
 trusted too vainly to his own strength ; and it might be, also, 
 that he could not resist the temptation of seeing if Evelyn 
 were contented with her lot, and if Vargrave were worthy of 
 the blessing that awaited him. Whether one of these or all 
 united made him resolve to brave his danger, or whether, after 
 all, he yielded to a weakness, or consented to what invited 
 by Evelyn herself was almost a social necessity, the reader 
 and not the narrator shall decide. 
 
 Legard was gone; but Doltimore remained in the neigh- 
 bourhood, having hired a hunting-box not far from Sir John 
 Merton's manors, over which he easily obtained permission 
 to sport. When he did not dine elsewhere, there was always 
 a place for him at the parson's hospitable board, and that 
 place was generally next to Caroline. Mr. and Mrs. Merton 
 had given up all hope of Mr. Maltravers for their eldest 
 daughter; and, very strangely, this conviction came upon 
 their minds on the first day they made the acquaintance of 
 the young lord. 
 
 "My dear," said the rector, as he was winding up his 
 watch, preparatory to entering the connubial couch, " my 
 dear, I don't think Mr. Maltravers is a marrying man."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 173 
 
 "I was just going to make the same remark," said Mrs. 
 Merton, drawing the clothes over her. " Lord Doltimore is a 
 very fine young man, his estates unencumbered. I like him 
 vastly, my love. He is evidentty smitten with Caroline: so 
 Lord Vargrave and Mrs. Hare said." 
 
 "Sensible, shrewd woman, Mrs. Hare. By the by, we'll 
 send her a pineapple. Caroline was made to be a woman of 
 rank!" 
 
 "Quite; so much self-possession! " 
 
 " And if Mr. Maltravers would sell or let Burleigh " 
 
 "It would be so pleasant! " 
 
 "Had you not better give Caroline a hint?" 
 
 "My love, she is so sensible, let her go her own way." 
 
 " You are right, my dear Betsy ; I shall always say that no 
 one has more common-sense than you; you have brought up 
 your children admirably ! " 
 
 "Dear Charles!" 
 
 "It is coldish to-night, love," said the rector; and he put 
 out the candle. 
 
 From that time, it was not the fault of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Merton if Lord Doltimore did not find their house the pleas - 
 antest in the county. 
 
 One evening the rectory party were assembled together in 
 the cheerful drawing-room. Cleveland, Mr. Merton, Sir 
 John, and Lord Vargrave, reluctantly compelled to make 
 up the fourth, were at the whist-table; Evelyn, Caroline, 
 and Lord Doltimore were seated round the fire, and Mrs. 
 Merton was working a footstool. The fire burned clear, the 
 curtains were down, the children in bed : it was a family pict- 
 ure of elegant comfort. 
 
 Mr. Maltravers was announced. 
 
 "I am glad you are come at last," said Caroline, hold- 
 ing out her fair hand. " Mr. Cleveland could not answer for 
 you. We are all disputing as to which mode of life is the 
 happiest." 
 
 "And your opinion?" asked Maltravers, seating himself in 
 the vacant chair, it chanced to be next to Evelyn's. 
 
 " My opinion is decidedly in favour of London. A metro-
 
 174 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 politan life, with its perpetual and graceful excitements, 
 the best music, the best companions, the best things in short. 
 Provincial life is so dull, its pleasures so tiresome; to talk 
 over the last year's news, and wear out one's last year's 
 dresses, cultivate a conservatory, and play Pope Joan with a 
 young party, dreadful ! " 
 
 "I agree with Miss Merton," said Lord Doltimore, solemnly; 
 " not but what I like the country for three or four months in 
 the year, with good shooting and hunting, and a large house 
 properly filled, independent of one's own neighbourhood: but 
 if I am condemned to choose one place to live in, give me 
 Paris." 
 
 "Ah, Paris; I never was in Paris. I should so like to 
 travel ! " said Caroline. 
 
 " But the inns abroad are so very bad, " said Lord Doltimore ; 
 "how people can rave about Italy, I can't think. I never suf- 
 fered so much in my life as I did in Calabria; and at Venice 
 I was bit to death by mosquitoes. Nothing like Paris, I 
 assure you: don't you think so, Mr. Maltravers?" 
 
 " Perhaps I shall be able to answer you better in a short 
 time. I think of accompanying Mr. Cleveland to Paris ! " 
 
 "Indeed!" said Caroline. "Well, I envy you; but is it a 
 sudden resolution ? " 
 
 "Not very." 
 
 " Do you stay long? " asked Lord Doltimore. 
 
 " My stay is uncertain. " 
 
 "And you won't let Burleigh in the meanwhile?" 
 
 "Let Burleigh? No; if it once pass from my hands it will 
 be forever ! " 
 
 Maltravers spoke gravely, and the subject was changed. 
 Lord Doltimore challenged Caroline to chess. 
 
 They sat down, and Lord Doltimore arranged the pieces. 
 
 " Sensible man, Mr. Maltravers, " said the young lord ; " but 
 I don't hit it off with him: Vargrave is more agreeable. 
 Don't you think so?" 
 
 Y e s." 
 
 " Lord Vargrave is very kind to me, I never remember 
 any one being more so ; got Legard that appointment solely
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 175 
 
 because it would please me, very friendly fellow ! I mean 
 to put myself under his wing next session! " 
 
 " You could not do better, I 'm sure, " said Caroline ; " he is 
 so much looked up to ; I dare say he will be prime minister 
 one of these days." 
 
 "I take the bishop: do you think so really? you are 
 rather a politician? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; not much of that. But my father and my uncle 
 are stanch politicians; gentlemen know so much more than 
 ladies. We should always go by their opinions. I think I 
 will take the queen's pawn your politics are the same as 
 Lord Vargrave's?" 
 
 " Yes, I fancy so : at least I shall leave my proxy with him. 
 Glad you don't like politics, great bore." 
 
 "Why, so young, so connected as you are " Caroline 
 stopped short, and made a wrong move. 
 
 " I wish we were going to Paris together, we should enjoy 
 it so;" and Lord Doltimore's knight checked the tower and 
 queen. 
 
 Caroline coughed, and stretched her hand quickly to move. 
 
 " Pardon me, you will lose the game if you do so ! " and 
 Doltimore placed his hand on hers, their eyes met, Caroline 
 turned away, and Lord Doltimore settled his right collar. 
 
 "And is it true? are you really going to leave us?" said 
 Evelyn, and she felt very sad. But still the sadness might 
 not be that of love, she had felt sad after Legard had gone. 
 
 " I do not think I shall long stay away, " said Maltravers, 
 trying to speak indifferently. "Burleigh has become more 
 dear to me than it was in earlier youth ; perhaps because I 
 have made myself duties there : and in other places I am but 
 an isolated and useless unit in the great mass." 
 
 "You! everywhere, you must have occupations and re- 
 sources, everywhere, you must find yourself not alone. 
 But you will not go yet?" 
 
 "Not yet: no. [Evelyn's spirits rose.] Have you read 
 the book I sent you?" (Tt was one of De Stael's.) 
 
 "Yes; but it disappoints me."
 
 176 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "And why? It is eloquent." 
 
 "But is it true? Is there so much melancholy in life? 
 Are the affections so full of bitterness? For me, I am so 
 happy when with those I love! When I am with my mother, 
 the air seems more fragrant, the skies more blue : it is surely 
 not affection, but the absence of it, that makes us melancholy. " 
 
 "Perhaps so; but if we had never known affection, we 
 might not miss it: and the brilliant Frenchwoman speaks 
 from memory, while you speak from hope, memory, which 
 is the ghost of joy: yet surely, even in the indulgence of 
 affection, there is at times a certain melancholy, a certain 
 fear. Have you never felt it, even with with your 
 mother? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! when she suffered, or when I have thought she 
 loved me less than I desired." 
 
 "That must have been an idle and vain thought. Your 
 mother! does she resemble you?" 
 
 " I wish I could think so. Oh, if you knew her ! I have 
 longed so often that you were acquainted with each other ! It 
 was she who taught me to sing your songs." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Hare, we may as well throw up our cards, " 
 said the keen clear voice of Lord Vargrave : " you have played 
 most admirably, and I know that your last card will be the 
 ace of trumps; still the luck is against us." 
 
 "No, no; pray play it out, my lord." 
 
 "Quite useless, ma'am," said Sir John, showing two hon- 
 ours. "We have only the trick to make." 
 
 "Quite useless," echoed Lumley, tossing down his sover- 
 eigns, and rising with a careless yawn. 
 
 "How d'ye do, Maltravers?" 
 
 Maltravers rose; and Vargrave turned to Evelyn, and 
 addressed her in a whisper. The proud Maltravers walked 
 away, and suppressed a sigh; a moment more, and he saw 
 Lord Vargrave occupying the chair he had left vacant. He 
 laid his hand on Cleveland's shoulder. 
 
 " The carriage is waiting, are you ready? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 177 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OBSCTJEIS vera involvens. 1 VIEGIL. 
 
 A DAY or two after the date of the last chapter, Evelyn and 
 Caroline were riding out with Lord Vargrave and Mr. Merton, 
 and on returning home they passed through the village of 
 Burleigh. 
 
 "Maltravers, I suppose, has an eye to the county one of 
 these days, " said Lord Vargrave, who honestly fancied that a 
 man's eyes were always directed towards something for his 
 own interest or advancement; "otherwise he could not surely 
 take all this trouble about workhouses and paupers. Who 
 could ever have imagined my romantic friend would sink into 
 a country squire?" 
 
 " It is astonishing what talent and energy he throws into 
 everything he attempts," said the parson. "One could not, 
 indeed, have supposed that a man of genius could make a man 
 of business." 
 
 " Flattering to your humble servant whom all the world 
 allow to be the last, and deny to be the first. But your 
 remark shows what a sad possession genius is : like the rest 
 of the world, you fancy that it cannot be of the least possible 
 use. If a man is called a genius, it means that he is to be 
 thrust out of all the good things in this life. He is not fit for 
 anything but a garret! Put a genius into office ! make a genius 
 a bishop! or a lord chancellor! the world would be turned 
 topsy turvy! You see that you are quite astonished that a 
 genius can be even a county magistrate, and know the differ- 
 ence between a spade and a poker! In fact, a genius is sup- 
 posed to be the most ignorant, impracticable, good-for-nothing, 
 do-nothing sort of thing that ever walked upon two legs. 
 Well, when I began life I took excellent care that nobody 
 should take me for a genius; and it is only within the last 
 1 " Wrapping truth in obscurity." 
 12
 
 178 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 year or two that I ventured to emerge a little out of my shell. 
 I have not been the better for it; I was getting on faster while 
 I was merely a plodder. The world is so fond of that droll 
 fable, the hare and the tortoise, it really believes because 
 (I suppose the fable to be true !) a tortoise once beat a hare 
 that all tortoises are much better runners than hares possibly 
 can be. Mediocre men have the monopoly of the loaves and 
 fishes; and even when talent does rise in life, it is a talent 
 which only differs from mediocrity by being more energetic 
 and bustling." 
 
 " You are bitter, Lord Vargrave, " said Caroline, laughing ; 
 "yet surely you have had no reason to complain of the non- 
 appreciation of talent? " 
 
 " Humph ! if I had had a grain more talent I should have 
 been crushed by it. There is a subtle allegory in the story of 
 the lean poet, who put lead in his pocket to prevent being 
 blown away ! ' Mais k nos moutons, ' to return to Mal- 
 travers. Let us suppose that he was merely clever, had not 
 had a particle of what is called genius, been merely a hard- 
 working able gentleman, of good character and fortune, he 
 might be half-way up the hill by this time; whereas now, 
 what is he? Less before the public than he was at twenty- 
 eight, a discontented anchorite, a meditative idler." 
 
 "No, not that," said Evelyn, warmly, and then checked 
 herself. 
 
 Lord Vargrave looked at her sharply; but his knowledge of 
 life told him that Legard was a much more dangerous rival 
 than Maltravers. Now and then, it is true, a suspicion to 
 the contrary crossed him ; but it did not take root and become 
 a serious apprehension. Still, he did not quite like the tone 
 of voice in which Evelyn had put her abrupt negative, and 
 said, with a slight sneer, 
 
 "If not that, what is he?" 
 
 " One who purchased by the noblest exertions the right to 
 be idle," said Evelyn with spirit; "and whom genius itself 
 will not suffer to be idle long." 
 
 "Besides," said Mr. Merton, "he has won a high reputation, 
 which he cannot lose merely by not seeking to increase it."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 179 
 
 "Reputation! Oh, yes! we give men like that men of 
 genius a large property in the clouds, in order to justify 
 ourselves in pushing them out of our way below. But if they 
 are contented with fame, why, they deserve their fate. Hang 
 fame, give me power." 
 
 "And is there no power in genius?" said Evelyn, with 
 deepening fervour; "no power over the mind, and the heart, 
 and the thought; no power over its own time, over posterity, 
 over nations yet uncivilized, races yet unborn? " 
 
 This burst from one so simple and young as Evelyn seemed 
 to Vargrave so surprising that he stared on her without saying 
 a word. 
 
 "You will laugh at my championship," she added, with a 
 blush and a smile ; " but you provoked the encounter. " 
 
 "And you have won the battle," said Vargrave, with prompt 
 gallantry. " My charming ward, every day develops in you 
 some new gift of nature! " 
 
 Caroline, with a movement of impatience, put her horse 
 into a canter. 
 
 Just at this time, from a cross-road, emerged a horseman, 
 it was Maltravers. The party halted, salutations were 
 exchanged. 
 
 " I suppose you have been enjoying the sweet business of 
 squiredom," said Vargrave, gayly: "Atticus and his farm, 
 classical associations ! Charming weather for the agricultur- 
 ists, eh! What news about corn and barley? I suppose our 
 English habit of talking on the weather arose when we were 
 all a squirearchal farming, George-the-Third kind of people ! 
 Weather is really a serious matter to gentlemen who are inter- 
 ested in beans and vetches, wheat and hay. You hang your 
 happiness upon the changes of the moon ! " 
 
 " As you upon the smiles of a minister. The weather of a 
 court is more capricious than that of the skies, at least we 
 are better husbandmen than you who sow the wind and reap 
 the whirlwind." 
 
 " Well retorted : and really, when I look round, I am half 
 inclined to envy you. Were I not Vargrave, I would be 
 Maltravers."
 
 180 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 It was, indeed, a scene that seemed quiet and serene, with 
 the English union of the feudal and the pastoral life, the 
 village-green, with its trim scattered cottages ; the fields and 
 pastures that spread beyond; the turf of the park behind, 
 broken by the shadows of the unequal grounds, with its 
 mounds and hollows and venerable groves, from which rose 
 the turrets of the old Hall, its mullion windows gleaming in 
 the western sun; a scene that preached tranquillity and con- 
 tent, and might have been equally grateful to humble philoso- 
 phy and hereditary pride. 
 
 "I never saw any place so peculiar in its character as 
 Burleigh," said the rector; "the old seats left to us in 
 England are chiefly those of our great nobles. It is so rare 
 to see one that does not aspire beyond the residence of a pri- 
 vate gentleman preserve all the relics of the Tudor age." 
 
 " I think, " said Vargrave, turning to Evelyn, " that as by 
 my uncle's will your fortune is to be laid out in the purchase 
 of land, we could not find a better investment than Burleigh. 
 So, whenever you are inclined to sell, Maltravers, I think we 
 must outbid Doltimore. What say you, my fair ward?" 
 
 " Leave Burleigh in peace, I beseech you ! " said Maltravers, 
 angrily. 
 
 "That is said like a Digby," returned Vargrave. "Allans! 
 will you not come home with us?" 
 
 "I thank you, not to-day." 
 
 "We meet at Lord Kaby's next Thursday. It is a ball 
 given almost wholly in honour of your return to Burleigh; 
 we are all going, it is my young cousin's debut at Knares- 
 dean. We have all an interest in her conquests." 
 
 Now, as Maltravers looked up to answer, he caught Evelyn's 
 glance, and his voice faltered. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "we shall meet once again. Adieu!" 
 He wheeled round his horse, and they separated. 
 
 "I can bear this no more," said Maltravers to himself; "I 
 overrated my strength. To see her thus, day after day, and 
 to know her another's, to writhe beneath his calm, uncon- 
 scious assertion of his rights ! Happy Vargrave ! and yet, 
 ah! will she be happy? Oh, could I think so! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 181 
 
 Thus soliloquizing, he suffered the rein to fall on the neck 
 of his horse, which paced slowly home through the village, 
 till it stopped as if in the mechanism of custom at the 
 door of a cottage a stone's throw from the lodge. At this 
 door, indeed, for several successive days, had Maltravers 
 stopped regularly j it was now tenanted by the poor woman 
 his introduction to whom has been before narrated. She 
 had recovered from the immediate effects of the injury she 
 had sustained; but her constitution, greatly broken by previ- 
 ous suffering and exhaustion, had received a mortal shock. 
 She was hurt inwardly; and the surgeon informed Maltravers 
 that she had not many months to live. He had placed her 
 under the roof of one of his favourite cottagers, where she 
 received all the assistance and alleviation that careful nursing 
 and medical advice could give her. 
 
 This poor woman, whose name was Sarah Elton, interested 
 Maltravers much. She had known better days : there was a 
 certain propriety in her expressions which denoted an educa- 
 tion superior to her circumstances; and what touched Mal- 
 travers most, she seemed far more to feel her husband's death 
 than her own sufferings, which, somehow or other, is not 
 common with widows the other side of forty ! We say that 
 youth easily consoles itself for the robberies of the grave, 
 middle age is a still better self-comforter. When Mrs. Elton 
 found herself installed in the cottage, she looked round, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " And William is not here ! " she said. " Friends friends ! 
 if we had had but one such friend before he died! " 
 
 Maltravers was pleased that her first thought was rather 
 that of sorrow for the dead than of gratitude for the living. 
 Yet Mrs. Elton was grateful, simply, honestly, deeply 
 grateful; her manner, her voice, betokened it. And she 
 seemed so glad when her benefactor called to speak kindly 
 and inquire cordially, that Maltravers did so constantly; at 
 first from a compassionate and at last from a selfish motive 
 for who is not pleased to give pleasure? And Maltravers had 
 so few in the world to care for him, that perhaps he was flat- 
 tered by the grateful respect of this humble stranger.
 
 182 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 When his horse stopped, the cottager's daughter opened the 
 door and courtesied, it was an invitation to enter ; and he 
 threw his rein over the paling and walked into the cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Elton, who had been seated by the open casement, rose 
 to receive him. But Maltravers made her sit down, and soon 
 put her at her ease. The woman and her daughter who occu- 
 pied the cottage retired into the garden, and Mrs. Elton, 
 watching them withdraw, then exclaimed abruptly, 
 
 "Oh, sir, I have so longed to see you this morning! I so 
 long to make bold to ask you whether, indeed, I dreamed it 
 
 or did I, when you first took me to your house did I 
 see " She stopped abruptly; and though she strove to 
 suppress her emotion, it was too strong for her efforts, she 
 sank back on her chair, pale as death, and almost gasped for 
 breath. 
 
 Maltravers waited in surprise for her recovery. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir, I was thinking of days long past ; and 
 
 but I wished to ask whether, when I lay in your hall, almost 
 insensible, any one besides yourself and your servants were 
 present? or was it" added the woman, with a shudder 
 "was it the dead?" 
 
 " I remember, " said Maltravers, much struck and interested 
 in her question and manner, "that a lady was present." 
 
 " It is so! it is so! " cried the woman, half rising and clasp- 
 ing her hands. "And she passed by this cottage a little time 
 ago ; her veil was thrown aside as she turned that fair young 
 face towards the cottage. Her name, sir, oh, what is her 
 name? It was the same the same face that shone across me 
 in that hour of pain ! I did not dream ! I was not mad ! " 
 
 "Compose yourself; you could never, I think, have seen 
 that lady before. Her name is Cameron." 
 
 " Cameron Cameron ! " The woman shook her head 
 mournfully. "No; that name is strange to me. And her 
 mother, sir, she is dead?" 
 
 "No; her mother lives." 
 
 A shade came over the face of the sufferer; and she said, 
 after a pause, 
 
 "My eyes deceive me then, sir; and, indeed, I feel that my
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 183 
 
 head is touched, and I wander sometimes. But the likeness 
 was so great; yet that young lady is even lovelier! " 
 
 "Likenesses are very deceitful and very capricious, and 
 depend more on fancy than reality. One person discovers a 
 likeness between faces most dissimilar, a likeness invisible 
 to others. But who does Miss Cameron resemble?" 
 
 "One now dead, sir; dead many years ago. But it is a long 
 story, and one that lies heavy on my conscience. Some day 
 or other, if you will give me leave, sir, I will unburden my- 
 self to you." 
 
 " If I can assist you in any way, command me. Meanwhile, 
 have you no friends, no relations, no children, whom you would 
 wish to see?" 
 
 " Children ! no, sir ; I never had but one child of my own " 
 (she laid an emphasis on the last words), " and that died iu a 
 foreign land." 
 
 "And no other relatives?" 
 
 " None, sir. My history is very short and simple. I was 
 well brought up, an only child. My father was a small 
 farmer; he died when I was sixteen, and I went into service 
 with a kind old lady and her daughter, who treated me more 
 as a companion than a servant. I was a vain, giddy girl, 
 then, sir. A young man, the son of a neighbouring farmer, 
 courted me, and I was much attached to him ; but neither of 
 us had money, and his parents would not give their consent 
 to our marrying. I was silly enough to think that, if Wil- 
 liam loved me, he should have braved all; and his prudence 
 mortified me, so I married another whom I did not love. I 
 was rightly punished, for he ill-used me and took to drinking; 
 I returned to my old service to escape from him for I was 
 with child, and my life was in danger from his violence. He 
 died suddenly, and in debt. And then, afterwards, a gentle- 
 man a rich gentleman to whom I rendered a service (do 
 not misunderstand me, sir, if I say the service was one of 
 which I repent), gave me money, and made me rich enough 
 to marry my first lover; and William and I went to America. 
 We lived many years in New York upon our little fortune 
 comfortably ; and I was a long while happy, for I had always
 
 184 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 loved William dearly. My first affliction was the death of 
 my child by my first husband ; but I was soon roused from my 
 grief. William schemed and speculated, as everybody does 
 in America, and so we lost all; and William was weakly and 
 could not work. At length he got the place of steward on 
 board a vessel from New York to Liverpool, and I was taken 
 to assist in the cabin. We wanted to come to London; I 
 thought my old benefactor might do something for us, though 
 he had never answered the letters I sent to him. But poor 
 William fell ill on board, and died in sight of land." 
 
 Mrs. Elton wept bitterly, but with the subdued grief of one 
 to whom tears have been familiar ; and when she recovered, 
 she soon brought her humble tale to an end. She herself, 
 incapacitated from all work by sorrow and a breaking consti- 
 tution, was left in the streets of Liverpool without other means 
 of subsistence than the charitable contributions of the passen- 
 gers and sailors on board the vessel. With this sum she had 
 gone to London, where she found her old patron had been 
 long since dead, and she had no claims on his family. She 
 had, on quitting England, left one relation settled in a town 
 in the North; thither she now repaired, to find her last hope 
 wrecked; the relation also was dead and gone. Her money 
 was now spent, and she had begged her way along the road, or 
 through the lanes, she scarce knew whither, till the accident 
 which, in shortening her life, had raised up a friend for its 
 close. 
 
 "And such, sir," said she in conclusion, "such has been the 
 story of my life, except one part of it, which, if I get stronger, 
 I can tell better; but you will excuse that now." 
 
 " And are you comfortable and contented, my poor friend? 
 These people are kind to you? " 
 
 "Oh, so kind! And every night we all pray for you, sir; 
 you ought to be happy, if the blessings of the poor can avail 
 the rich." 
 
 Maltravers remounted his horse, and sought his home ; and 
 his heart was lighter than before he entered that cottage. But 
 at evening Cleveland talked of Vargrave and Evelyn, and the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 185 
 
 good fortune of the one, and the charms of the other; and the 
 wound, so well concealed, bled afresh. 
 
 "I heard from De Montaigne the other day," said Ernest, 
 just as they were retiring for the night, "and his letter de- 
 cides my movements. If you will accept me, then, as a travel- 
 ling companion, I will go with you to Paris. Have you made 
 up your mind to leave Burleigh on Saturday?" 
 
 " Yes; that gives us a day to recover from Lord Raby's ball. 
 I am so delighted at your offer! We need only stay a day or 
 so in town. The excursion will do you good, your spirits, 
 my dear Ernest, seem more dejected than when you first 
 returned to England : you live too much alone here ; you will 
 enjoy Burleigh more on your return. And perhaps then you 
 will open the old house a little more to the neighbourhood, 
 and to your friends. They expect it : you are looked to for 
 the county." 
 
 "I have done with politics, and sicken but for peace." 
 
 "Pick up a wife in Paris, and you will then know that 
 peace is an impossible possession," said the old bachelor, 
 laughing.
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 ov$' tffafftv '6<rtf ir\fov fjfilffv iravrbs. HESIOD : Op. et Dies, 40. 
 
 " FOOLS blind to truth ; nor know their erring soul 
 How much the half is better than the whole." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Do as the Heavens have done ; forget your evil ; 
 With them, forgive yourself. The Winter's Tale. 
 
 . . . The sweet'st companion that e'er man 
 Bred his hopes out of. Ibii. 
 
 THE curate of Brook-Green was sitting outside his door. 
 The vicarage which he inhabited was a straggling, irregular, 
 but picturesque building, humble enough to suit the means 
 of the curate, yet large enough to accommodate the vicar. 
 It had been built in an age when the indiyentes et pauperes for 
 whom universities were founded supplied, more than they do 
 now, the fountains of the Christian ministry, when pastor 
 and flock were more on an equality. 
 
 From under a rude and arched porch, with an oaken settle 
 on either side for the poor visitor, the door opened at once 
 upon the old-fashioned parlour, a homely but pleasant 
 room, with one wide but low cottage casement, beneath 
 which stood the dark shining table that supported the large 
 Bible in its green baize cover; the Concordance, and the last 
 Sunday's sermon, in its jetty case. There by the fireplace 
 stood the bachelor's round elbow-chair, with a needlework 
 cushion at the back; a walnut-tree bureau, another table or 
 two, half a dozen plain chairs, constituted the rest of the fur- 
 niture, saving some two or three hundred volumes, ranged in
 
 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 187 
 
 neat shelves on the clean wainscoted walls. There was an- 
 other room, to which you ascended by two steps, communicat- 
 ing with this parlour, smaller but finer, and inhabited only 
 on festive days, when Lady Vargrave, or some other quiet 
 neighbour, came to drink tea with the good curate. 
 
 An old housekeeper and her grandson a young fellow of 
 about two and twenty, who tended the garden, milked the 
 cow, and did in fact what he was wanted to do composed 
 the establishment of the humble minister. 
 
 We have digressed from Mr. Aubrey himself. 
 
 The curate was seated, then, one fine summer morning, on 
 a bench at the left of his porch, screened from the sun by the 
 cool boughs of a chestnut-tree, the shadow of which half cov- 
 ered the little lawn that separated the precincts of the house 
 from those of silent Death and everlasting Hope; above the 
 irregular and moss-grown paling rose the village church ; and, 
 through openings in the trees, beyond the burial-ground, par- 
 tially gleamed the white walls of Lady Var grave's cottage, 
 and were seen at a distance the sails on the 
 
 " Mighty waters, rolling evermore." 
 
 The old man was calmly enjoying the beauty of the morning, 
 the freshness of the air, the warmth of the dancing beam, and 
 not least, perhaps, his own peaceful thoughts, the sponta- 
 neous children of a contemplative spirit and a quiet con- 
 science. His was the age when we most sensitively enjoy 
 the mere sense of existence, when the face of Nature and a 
 passive conviction of the benevolence of our Great Father suf- 
 fice to create a serene and ineffable happiness, which rarely 
 visits us till we have done with the passions; till memories, 
 if more alive than heretofore, are yet mellowed in the hues 
 of time, and Faith softens into harmony all their asperities 
 and harshness ; till nothing within us remains to cast a shadow 
 over the things without ; and on the verge of life, the Angels 
 are nearer to us than of yore. There is an old age which has 
 more youth of heart than youth itself! 
 
 As the old man thus sat, the little gate through which, on 
 Sabbath days, he was wont to pass from the humble mansion
 
 188 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 to the house of God noiselessly opened, and Lady Vargrave 
 appeared. 
 
 The curate rose when he perceived her; and the lady's fair 
 features were lighted up with a gentle pleasure, as she pressed 
 his hand and returned his salutation. 
 
 There was a peculiarity in Lady Vargrave's countenance 
 which I have rarely seen in others. Her smile, which was 
 singularly expressive, came less from the lip than from the 
 eyes; it was almost as if the brow smiled; it was as the sud- 
 den and momentary vanishing of a light but melancholy cloud 
 that usually rested upon the features, placid as they were. 
 
 They sat down on the rustic bench, and the sea-breeze wan- 
 toned amongst the quivering leaves of the chestnut-tree that 
 overhung their seat. 
 
 "I have come, as usual, to consult my kind friend," said 
 Lady Vargrave; "and, as usual also, it is about our absent 
 Evelyn." 
 
 "Have you heard again from her, this morning?" 
 
 "Yes; and her letter increases the anxiety which your 
 observation, so much deeper than mine, first awakened." 
 
 "Does she then write much of Lord Vargrave?" 
 
 " Not a great deal ; but the little she does say, betrays how 
 much she shrinks from the union my poor husband desired : 
 more, indeed, than ever ! But this is not all, nor the worst ; 
 for you know that the late lord had provided against that 
 probability he loved her so tenderly, his ambition for her 
 only came from his affection; and the letter he left behind 
 him pardons and releases her, if she revolts from the choice 
 he himself preferred." 
 
 " Lord Vargrave is, perhaps, a generous, he certainly seems 
 a candid, man, and he must be sensible that his uncle has 
 already done all that justice required." 
 
 " I think so. But this, as I said, is not all ; I have brought 
 the letter to show you. It seems to me as you apprehended. 
 This Mr. Maltravers has wound himself about her thoughts 
 more than she herself imagines ; you see how she dwells on 
 all that concerns him, and how, after checking herself, she 
 returns again and again to the same subject."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 189 
 
 The curate put on his spectacles, and took the letter. It 
 was a strange thing, that old gray-haired minister evincing 
 such grave interest in the secrets of that young heart ! But 
 they who would take charge of the soul must never be too 
 wise to regard the heart! 
 
 Lady Vargrave looked over his shoulder as he bent down to 
 read, and at times placed her finger on such passages as she 
 wished him to note. The old curate nodded as she did so; 
 but neither spoke till the letter was concluded. 
 
 The curate then folded up the epistle, took off his spectacles, 
 hemmed, and looked grave. 
 
 "Well," said Lady Vargrave, anxiously, "well?" 
 
 " My dear friend, the letter requires consideration. In the 
 first place, it is clear to me that, in spite of Lord Vargrave's 
 presence at the rectory, his lordship so manages matters that 
 the poor child is unable of herself to bring that matter to a 
 conclusion. And, indeed, to a mind so sensitively delicate 
 and honourable, it is no easy task." 
 
 " Shall I write to Lord Vargrave?" 
 
 "Let us think of it. In the meanwhile, this Mr. 
 Maltravers " 
 
 " Ah, this Mr. Maltravers ! " 
 
 " The child shows us more of her heart than she thinks of ; 
 and yet I myself am puzzled. If you observe, she has only 
 once or twice spoken of the Colonel Legard whom she has 
 made acquaintance with; while she treats at length of Mr. 
 Maltravers, and confesses the effect he has produced on her 
 mind. Yet, do you know, I more dread the caution respect- 
 ing the first than all the candour that betrays the influence of 
 the last? There is a great difference between first fancy and 
 first love." 
 
 "Is there?" said the lady, abstractedly. 
 
 "Again, neither of us is acquainted with this singular man, 
 I mean Maltravers ; his character, temper, and principles, 
 of all of which Evelyn is too young, too guileless, to judge 
 for herself. One thing, however, in her letter speaks in his 
 favour. " 
 
 "What is that?"
 
 190 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "He absents himself from her. This, if he has discovered 
 her secret, or if he himself is sensible of too great a charm in 
 her presence, would be the natural course that an honourable 
 and a strong mind would pursue. " 
 
 "What! if he love her?" 
 
 "Yes; while he believes her hand is engaged to another." 
 
 " True ! What shall be done if Evelyn should love, and 
 love in vain? Ah, it is the misery of a whole existence! " 
 
 "Perhaps she had better return to us," said Mr. Aubrey; 
 "and yet, if already it be too late, and her affections are 
 engaged, we should still remain in ignorance respecting the 
 motives and mind of the object of her attachment; and he, 
 too, might not know the true nature of the obstacle connected 
 with Lord Vargrave's claims." 
 
 "Shall I, then, go to her? You know how I shrink from 
 strangers; how I fear curiosity, doubts, and questions; how 
 [and Lady Vargrave's voice faltered] how unfitted I am 
 for for " she stopped short, and a faint blush overspread 
 her cheeks. 
 
 The curate understood her, and was moved. 
 
 "Dear friend," said he, "will you intrust this charge to 
 myself? You know how Evelyn is endeared to me by certain 
 recollections! Perhaps, better than you, I may be enabled 
 silently to examine if this man be worthy of her, and one who 
 could secure her happiness ; perhaps, better than you I may 
 ascertain the exact nature of her own feelings towards him; 
 perhaps, too, better than you I may effect an understanding 
 with Lord Vargrave." 
 
 "You are always my kindest friend," said the lady, with 
 emotion; "how much I already owe you! what hopes beyond 
 the grave ! what " 
 
 "Hush!" interrupted the curate, gently; "your own good 
 heart and pure intentions have worked out your own atone- 
 ment may I hope also your own content? Let us return to 
 our Evelyn. Poor child ! how unlike this despondent letter 
 to her gay light spirits when with us ! We acted for the best ; 
 yet perhaps we did wrong to yield her up to strangers. And 
 this Maltravers with her enthusiasm and quick susceptibil-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 191 
 
 ities to genius, she was half prepared to imagine him all she 
 depicts him to be. He must have a spell in his works that I 
 have not discovered, for at times it seems to operate even on 
 you." 
 
 "Because," said Lady Vargrave, "they remind me of his 
 conversation, his habits of thought. If like him in other 
 things, Evelyn may indeed be happy ! " 
 
 " And if," said the curate, curiously, " if now that you are 
 free, you were ever to meet with him again, and his memory 
 had been as faithful as yours ; and if he offered the sole atone- 
 ment in his power, for all that his early error cost you; if 
 such a chance should happen in the vicissitudes of life, you 
 would " 
 
 The curate stopped short; for he was struck by the exceed- 
 ing paleness of his friend's cheek, and the tremor of her deli- 
 cate frame. 
 
 "If that were to happen," said she, in a very low voice; "if 
 we were to meet again, and if he were as you and Mrs. 
 Leslie seem to think poor, and, like myself, humbly born, 
 if my fortune could assist him, if my love could still 
 changed, altered as I am ah! do not talk of it I cannot 
 bear the thought of happiness! And yet, if before I die I 
 could but see him again ! " She clasped her hands fervently 
 as she spoke, and the blush that overspread her face threw 
 over it so much of bloom and freshness, that even Evelyn, 
 at that moment, would scarcely have seemed more young. 
 "Enough!" she added, after a little while, as the glow died 
 away. " It is but a foolish hope ; all earthly love is buried ; 
 and my heart is there ! " she pointed to the heavens, and 
 both were silent.
 
 192 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 QUIBUS otio vel magnifice vel molliter, vivere copia era incerta pro certis 
 malebant. 1 SALLUST. 
 
 LORD EABY one of the wealthiest and most splendid 
 noblemen in England was prouder, perhaps, of his provin- 
 cial distinctions than the eminence of his rank or the fashion 
 of his wife. The magnificent chateaux, the immense estates, 
 of our English peers tend to preserve to us in spite of the 
 freedom, bustle, and commercial grandeur of our people more 
 of the Norman attributes of aristocracy than can be found in 
 other countries. In his county, the great noble is a petty 
 prince; his house is a court; his possessions and munificence 
 are a boast to every proprietor in his district. They are as 
 fond of talking of the earl's or the duke's movements and 
 entertainments, as Dangeau was of the gossip of the Tuileries 
 and Versailles. 
 
 Lord Raby, while affecting, as lieutenant of the county, to 
 make no political distinctions between squire and squire 
 hospitable and affable to all still, by that very absence of 
 exclusiveness, gave a tone to the politics of the whole county ; 
 and converted many who had once thought differently on the 
 respective virtues of Whigs and Tories. A great man never 
 loses so much as when he exhibits intolerance, or parades the 
 right of persecution. 
 
 "My tenants shall vote exactly as they please," said Lord 
 Kaby ; and he was never known to have a tenant vote against 
 his wishes! Keeping a vigilant eye on all the interests, and 
 conciliating all the proprietors, in the county, he not only 
 never lost a friend, but he kept together a body of partisans 
 that constantly added to its numbers. 
 
 1 " They who had the means to live at ease, either in splendour or in lux- 
 ury, preferred the uncertainty of change to their natural security."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 193 
 
 Sir John Merton's colleague, a young Lord Nelthorpe, who 
 could not speak three sentences if you took away his hat, and 
 who, constant at Almack's, was not only inaudible but invisi- 
 ble in parliament, had no chance of being re-elected. Lord 
 Nelthorpe's father, the Earl of Mainwaring, was a new peer; 
 and, next to Lord Raby, the richest nobleman in the county. 
 Now, though they were much of the same politics, Lord Raby 
 hated Lord Mainwaring. They were too near each other, 
 they clashed; they had the jealousy of rival princes! 
 
 Lord Kaby was delighted at the notion of getting rid of 
 Lord Nelthorpe, it would be so sensible a blow to the Main- 
 waring interest. The party had been looking out for a new 
 candidate, and Maltravers had been much talked of. It is 
 true that, when in parliament some years before, the politics 
 of Maltravers had differed from those of Lord Raby and his 
 set. But Maltravers had of late taken no share in politics, 
 had uttered no political opinions, was intimate with the elec- 
 tioneering Mertons, was supposed to be a discontented man, 
 and politicians believe in no discontent that is not political. 
 Whispers were afloat that Maltravers had grown wise, and 
 changed his views: some remarks of his, more theoretical 
 than practical, were quoted in favour of this notion. Parties, 
 too, had much changed since Maltravers had appeared on the 
 busy scene, new questions had arisen, and the old ones had 
 died off. 
 
 Lord Raby and his party thought that, if Maltravers could 
 be secured to them, no one would better suit their purpose. 
 Political faction loves converts better even than consistent 
 adherents. A man's rise in life generally dates from a well- 
 timed rat. His high reputation, his provincial rank as the 
 representative of the oldest commoner's family in the county, 
 his age, which combined the energy of one period with the 
 experience of another, all united to accord Maltravers a pre- 
 ference over richer men. Lord Raby had been pointedly cour- 
 teous and flattering to the master of Burleigh; and he now 
 contrived it so, that the brilliant entertainment he was about 
 to give might appear in compliment to a distinguished neigh- 
 bour, returned to fix his residence on his patrimonial prop- 
 is
 
 194 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 erty, while in reality it might serve an electioneering purpose, 
 serve to introduce Maltravers to the county, as if under his 
 lordship's own wing, and minister to political uses that went 
 beyond the mere representation of the county. 
 
 Lord Vargrave had, during his stay at Merton Rectory, paid 
 several visits to Knaresdean, and held many private conversa- 
 tions with the marquess: the result of these conversations was 
 a close union of schemes and interests between the two noble- 
 men. Dissatisfied with the political conduct of government, 
 Lord Raby was also dissatisfied that, from various party rea- 
 sons, a nobleman beneath himself in rank, and as he thought 
 in influence, had obtained a preference in a recent -vacancy 
 among the Knights of the Garter. And if Vargrave had a 
 talent in the world it was in discovering the weak points of 
 men whom he sought to gain, and making the vanities of 
 others conduce to his own ambition. 
 
 The festivities of Knaresdean gave occasion to Lord Raby 
 to unite at his house the more prominent of those who thought 
 and acted in concert with Lord Vargrave; and in this secret 
 senate the operations for the following session were to be seri- 
 ously discussed and gravely determined. 
 
 On the day which was to be concluded with the ball at 
 Knaresdean, Lord Vargrave went before the rest of the Mer- 
 ton party, for he was engaged to dine with the marquess. 
 
 On arriving at Knaresdean, Lumley found Lord Saxingham 
 and some other politicians, who had arrived the preceding day, 
 closeted with Lord Raby; and Vargrave, who shone to yet 
 greater advantage in the diplomacy of party management than 
 in the arena of parliament, brought penetration, energy, and 
 decision to timid and fluctuating counsels. Lord Vargrave 
 lingered in the room after the first bell had summoned the 
 other guests to depart. 
 
 "My dear lord," said he then, "though no one would be 
 more glad than myself to secure Maltravers to our side, I very 
 much doubt whether you will succeed in doing so. On the 
 one hand, he appears altogether disgusted with politics and 
 parliament; and on the other hand, I fancy that reports of his 
 change of opinions are, if not wholly unfounded, very unduly
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 195 
 
 coloured. Moreover, to do him justice, I think that he is not 
 one to be blinded and flattered into the pale of a party; and 
 your bird will fly away after you have wasted a bucketful of 
 salt on his tail. " 
 
 "Very possibly," said Lord Raby, laughing, "you know 
 him better than I do. But there are many purposes to serve 
 in this matter, purposes too provincial to interest you. In 
 the first place, we shall humble the Nelthorpe interest, merely 
 by showing that we do think of a new member; secondly, we 
 shall get up a manifestation of feeling that would be impossi- 
 ble, unless we were provided with a centre of attraction; 
 thirdly, we shall rouse a certain emulation among other 
 county gentlemen, and if Maltravers decline, we shall have 
 many applicants; and fourthly, suppose Maltravers has not 
 changed his opinions, we shall make him suspected by the 
 party he really does belong to, and which would be somewhat 
 formidable if he were to head them. In fact, these are mere 
 county tactics that you can't be expected to understand." 
 
 "I see you are quite right: meanwhile you will at least 
 have an opportunity (though I say it, who should not say it) 
 to present to the county one of the prettiest young ladies that 
 ever graced the halls of Knaresdean." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Cameron! I have heard much of her beauty: 
 you are a lucky fellow, Vargrave ! By the by, are we to say 
 anything of the engagement? " 
 
 " Why, indeed, my dear lord, it is now so publicly known, 
 that it would be false delicacy to affect concealment." 
 
 "Very well; I understand." 
 
 " How long I have detained you a thousand pardons ! I 
 have but just time to dress. In four or five months I must 
 remember to leave you a longer time for your toilet." 
 
 "Me how?" 
 
 " Oh, the Duke of can't live long; and I always observe 
 
 that when a handsome man has the Garter, he takes a long 
 time pulling up his stockings." 
 
 "Ha, ha! you are so droll, Vargrave." 
 
 "Ha, ha! I must be off." 
 
 " The more publicity is given to this arrangement, the more
 
 196 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 difficult for Evelyn to shy at the leap," muttered Vargrave to 
 himself as he closed the door. " Thus do I make all things 
 useful to myself ! " 
 
 The dinner party were assembled in the great drawing- 
 room, when Maltravers and Cleveland, also invited guests to 
 the banquet, were announced. Lord Raby received the former 
 with marked empressement ; and the stately marchioness hon- 
 oured him with her most gracious smile. Formal presenta- 
 tions to the rest of the guests were interchanged; and it was 
 not till the circle was fully gone through that Maltravers per- 
 ceived, seated by himself in a corner, to which he had shrunk 
 on the entrance of Maltravers, a gray-haired solitary man, 
 it was Lord Saxingham ! The last time they had met was in 
 the death-chamber of Florence ; and the old man forgot for the 
 moment the anticipated dukedom, and the dreamed-of premier- 
 ship, and his heart flew back to the grave of his only child ! 
 They saluted each other, and shook hands in silence. And 
 Vargrave whose eye was on them Vargrave, whose arts 
 had made that old man childless, felt not a pang of remorse! 
 Living ever in the future, Vargrave almost seemed to have 
 lost his memory. He knew not what regret was. It is a con- 
 dition of life with men thoroughly worldly that they never 
 look behind! 
 
 The signal was given: in due order the party were mar- 
 shalled into the great hall, a spacious and lofty chamber, 
 which had received its last alteration from the hand of Inigo 
 Jones; though the massive ceiling, with its antique and gro- 
 tesque masques, betrayed a much earlier date, and contrasted 
 with the Corinthian pilasters that adorned the walls, and 
 supported the music-gallery, from which waved the flags of 
 modern warfare and its mimicries, the eagle of Napoleon, a 
 token of the services of Lord Raby's brother (a distinguished 
 cavalry officer in command at Waterloo), in juxtaposition 
 with a much gayer and more glittering banner, emblematic 
 of the martial fame of Lord Raby himself, as Colonel of the 
 B shire volunteers! 
 
 The music pealed from the gallery,-. fche>. .plate glittered on 
 i }bh.ftiladie wore (diamonds, and the ;getleotnen !who
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 197 
 
 had them wore stars. It was a very fine sight, that banquet! 
 
 such as became the festive day of a lord-lieutenant whose 
 ancestors had now defied, and now intermarried, with roy- 
 alty. But there was very little talk, and no merriment. 
 People at the top of the table drank wine with those at the 
 bottom; and gentlemen and ladies seated next to each other 
 whispered languidly in monosyllabic commune. On one 
 side, Maltravers was flanked by a Lady Somebody Some- 
 thing, who was rather deaf, and very much frightened for 
 fear he should talk Greek; on the other side he was relieved 
 by Sir John Merton, very civil, very pompous, and talking, 
 at strictured intervals, about county matters, in a measured 
 intonation, savouring of the House-of-Commons jerk at the 
 end of the sentence. 
 
 As the dinner advanced to its close, Sir John became a 
 little more diffuse, though his voice sank into a whisper. 
 
 " I fear there will be a split in the Cabinet before parlia- 
 ment meets." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes ; Vargrave and the premier cannot pull together very 
 long. Clever man, Vargrave ! but he has not enough stake in 
 the country for a leader ! " 
 
 "All men have public character to stake; and if that be 
 good, I suppose no stake can be better? " 
 
 " Humph ! yes very true ; but still, when a man has land 
 and money, his opinions, in a country like this, very properly 
 carry more weight with them. If Vargrave, for instance, had 
 Lord Raby's property, no man could be more fit for a leader, 
 
 a prime minister. We might then be sure that he would 
 have no selfish interest to further : he would not play tricks 
 with his party you understand?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "I am not a party man, as you may remember; indeed, you 
 and I have voted alike on the same questions. Measures, not 
 men, that is my maxim; but still I don't like to see men 
 placed above their proper stations." 
 
 " Maltravers, a glass of wine, " said Lord Vargrave across 
 the table. "Will you join us, Sir John? "
 
 198 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Sir John bowed. 
 
 " Certainly, " he resumed, " Vargrave is a pleasant man and a 
 good speaker; but still they say he is far from rich, embar- 
 rassed, indeed. However, when he marries Miss Cameron it 
 may make a great difference, give him more respectability ; 
 do you know what her fortune is something immense? " 
 
 "Yes, I believe so; I don't know." 
 
 "My brother says that Vargrave is most amiable. The 
 young lady is very handsome, almost too handsome for a wife 
 don't you think so? Beauties are all very well in a ball- 
 room; but they are not calculated for domestic life. I am 
 sure you agree with me. I have heard, indeed, that Miss 
 Cameron is rather learned; but there is so much scandal in a 
 country neighbourhood, people are so ill-natured. I dare 
 say she is not more learned than other young ladies, poor 
 girl ! What do you think ? " 
 
 "Miss Cameron is is very accomplished, I believe. And 
 so you think the Government cannot stand?" 
 
 " I don't say that, very far from it ; but I fear there must 
 be a change. However, if the country gentlemen hold to- 
 gether, I do not doubt but what we shall weather the storm. 
 The landed interest, Mr. Maltravers, is the great stay of this 
 country, the sheet-anchor, I may say. I suppose Lord Var- 
 grave, who seems, I must say, to have right notions on this 
 head, will invest Miss Cameron's fortune in land. But though 
 one may buy an estate, one can't buy an old family, Mr. Mal- 
 travers ! you and I may be thankful for that. By the way, 
 who was Miss Cameron's mother, Lady Vargrave? some- 
 thing low, I fear; nobody knows." 
 
 " I am not acquainted with Lady Vargrave ; your sister-in- 
 law speaks of her most highly. And the daughter in herself 
 is a sufficient guarantee for the virtues of the mother. " 
 
 "Yes; and Vargrave on one side, at least, has himself 
 nothing in the way of family to boast of." 
 
 The ladies left the hall, the gentlemen re-seated themselves. 
 Lord Raby made some remark on politics to Sir John Merton, 
 and the whole round of talkers immediately followed their 
 leader.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 199 
 
 "It is a thousand pities, Sir John," said Lord Raby, "that 
 you have not a colleague more worthy of you; Nelthorpe never 
 attends a committee, does he?" 
 
 "I cannot say that he is a very active member; but he is 
 young, and we must make allowances for him," said Sir John, 
 discreetly ; for he had no desire to oust his colleague, it was 
 agreeable enough to be the efficient member. 
 
 "In these times," said Lord Eaby, loftily, "allowances are 
 not to be made for systematic neglect of duty; we shall have 
 a stormy session; the Opposition is no longer to be despised; 
 perhaps a dissolution may be nearer at hand than we think 
 for. As for Nelthorpe, he cannot come in again." 
 
 " That I am quite sure of, " said a fat country gentleman of 
 great weight in the county ; " he not only was absent on the 
 great Malt question, but he never answered my letter respect- 
 ing the Canal Company." 
 
 "Not answered your letter!" said Lord Raby, lifting up 
 his hands and eyes in amaze and horror. " What conduct ! 
 Ah, Mr. Maltravers, you are the man for us ! " 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " cried the fat squire. 
 
 " Hear ! " echoed Vargrave ; and the approving sound went 
 round the table. 
 
 Lord Raby rose. " Gentlemen, fill your glasses ; a health to 
 our distinguished neighbour ! " 
 
 The company applauded; each in his turn smiled, nodded, 
 and drank to Maltravers, who, though taken by surprise, saw 
 at once the course to pursue. He returned thanks simply and 
 shortly; and without pointedly noticing the allusion in which 
 Lord Raby had indulged, remarked, incidentally, that he had 
 retired, certainly for some years perhaps forever from 
 political life. 
 
 Vargrave smiled significantly at Lord Raby, and hastened 
 to lead the conversation into party discussion. Wrapped in 
 his proud disdain of what he considered the contests of fac- 
 tions for toys and shadows, Maltravers remained silent; and 
 the party soon broke up, and adjourned to the ballroom.
 
 200 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LE plus grand de'faut de la penetration n'est pas de n'aller point jus- 
 qu'au but, c'est de la passer. 1 LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 EVELYN had looked forward to the ball at Knaresdean with 
 feelings deeper than those which usually inflame the fancy of 
 a girl proud of her dress and confident of her beauty. Whether 
 or not she loved Maltravers, in the true acceptation of the word 
 "love," it is certain that he had acquired a most powerful com- 
 mand over her mind and imagination. She felt the warmest 
 interest in his welfare, the most anxious desire for his esteem, 
 the deepest regret at the thought of their estrangement. At 
 Knaresdean she should meet Maltravers, in crowds, it is 
 true; but still she should meet him; she should see him tow- 
 ering superior above the herd; she should hear him praised; 
 she should mark him, the observed of all. But there was an- 
 other and a deeper source of joy within her. A letter had 
 been that morning received from Aubrey, in which he had 
 announced his arrival for the next day. The letter, though 
 affectionate, was short. Evelyn had been some months absent, 
 Lady Vargrave was anxious to make arrangements for her 
 return; but it was to be at her option whether she would 
 accompany the curate home. Now, besides her delight at 
 seeing once more the dear old man, and hearing from his lips 
 that her mother was well and happy, Evelyn hailed in his 
 arrival the means of extricating herself from her position 
 with Lord Vargrave. She would confide in him her increased 
 repugnance to that union, he would confer with Lord Var- 
 grave ; and then and then did there come once more the 
 thought of Maltravers? No! I fear it was not Maltravers 
 
 1 " The greatest defect of penetration is not that of not going just up to 
 the point, 't is the passing it."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 201 
 
 who called forth that sinile and that sigh ! Strange girl, you 
 know not your own mind ! but few of us, at your age, do. 
 
 In all the gayety of hope, in the pride of dress and half- 
 conscious loveliness, Evelyn went with a light step into Caro- 
 line's room. Miss Merton had already dismissed her woman, 
 and was seated by her writing-table, leaning her cheek thought- 
 fully on her hand. 
 
 "Is it time to go?" said she, looking up. "Well, we shall 
 put Papa, and the coachman, and the horses, too, in excellent 
 humour. How well you look ! Really, Evelyn, you are indeed 
 beautiful! " and Caroline gazed with honest but not unenvious 
 admiration at the fairy form so rounded and yet so delicate, 
 and the face that seemed to blush at its own charms. 
 
 "I am sure I can return the flattery," said Evelyn, laugh- 
 ing bashfully. 
 
 " Oh, as for me, I am well enough in my way : and here- 
 after, I dare say, we may be rival beauties. I hope we shall 
 remain good friends, and rule the world with divided empire. 
 Do you not long for the stir, and excitement, and ambition of 
 London? for ambition is open to us as to men! " 
 
 "No, indeed," replied Evelyn, smiling; "I could be ambi- 
 tious, indeed ; but it would not be for myself, but for " 
 
 " A husband, perhaps ; well, you will have ample scope for 
 such sympathy. Lord Vargrave " 
 
 " Lord Vargrave again? " and Evelyn's smile vanished, and 
 she turned away. 
 
 "Ah," said Caroline, "I should have made Vargrave an 
 excellent wife pity he does not think so! As it is, I must 
 set up for myself and become a maitresse femme. So you 
 think I look well to-night? I am glad of it Lord Dolti- 
 more is one who will be guided by what other people say." 
 
 "You are not serious about Lord Doltimore?" 
 
 "Most sadly serious." 
 
 "Impossible! you could not speak so if you loved him." 
 
 "Loved him! no! but I intend to marry him." 
 
 Evelyn was revolted, but still incredulous. 
 
 " And you, too, will marry one whom you do not love 't is 
 our fate "
 
 202 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 "We shall see." 
 
 Evelyn's heart was damped, and her spirits fell. 
 
 "Tell me now," said Caroline, pressing on the wrung 
 withers, "do you not think this excitement, partial and 
 provincial though it be the sense of beauty, the hope of 
 conquest, the consciousness of power better than the dull 
 monotony of the Devonshire cottage? Be honest " 
 
 " No, no, indeed ! " answered Evelyn, tearfully and passion- 
 ately; "one hour with my mother, one smile from her lips, 
 were worth it all." 
 
 "And in your visions of marriage, you think then of 
 nothing but roses and doves, love in a cottage ! " 
 
 " Love in a home, no matter whether a palace or a cottage, " 
 returned Evelyn. 
 
 " Home ! " repeated Caroline, bitterly ; " home, home is 
 the English synonym for the French ennui. But I hear Papa 
 on the stairs." 
 
 A ballroom what a scene of commonplace! how hack- 
 neyed in novels! how trite in ordinary life! and yet ball- 
 rooms have a character and a sentiment of their own, for all 
 tempers and all ages. Something in the lights, the crowd, 
 the music, conduces to stir up many of the thoughts that 
 belong to fancy and romance. It is a melancholy scene to 
 men after a certain age. It revives many of those lighter 
 and more graceful images connected with the wandering de- 
 sires of youth, shadows that crossed us, and seemed love, 
 but were not; having much of the grace and charm, but none 
 of the passion and the tragedy, of love. So many of our 
 earliest and gentlest recollections are connected with those 
 chalked floors, and that music painfully gay, and those quiet 
 nooks and corners, where the talk that hovers about the heart 
 and does not touch it has been held. Apart and unsympathiz- 
 ing in that austerer wisdom which comes to us after deep pas- 
 sions have been excited, we see form after form chasing the 
 butterflies that dazzle us no longer among the flowers that 
 have evermore lost their fragrance. 
 
 Somehow or other, it is one of the scenes that remind us
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES 203 
 
 most forcibly of the loss of youth ! We are brought so closely 
 in contact with the young and with the short-lived pleasures 
 that once pleased us, and have forfeited all bloom. Happy 
 the man who turns from " the tinkling cymbal " and " the gal- 
 lery of pictures," and can think of some watchful eye and 
 some kind heart at home; but those who have no home and 
 they are a numerous tribe never feel lonelier hermits or 
 sadder moralists than in such a crowd. 
 
 Maltravers leaned abstractedly against the wall, and some 
 such reflections, perhaps, passed within, as the plumes waved 
 and the diamonds glittered around him. Ever too proud to 
 be vain, the monstrari digito had not nattered even in the 
 commencement of his career. And now he heeded not the 
 eyes that sought his look, nor the admiring murmur of lips 
 anxious to be overheard. Affluent, well-born, unmarried, 
 and still in the prime of life, in the small circles of a 
 province, Ernest Maltravers would in himself have been an 
 object of interest to the diplomacy of mothers and daughters ; 
 and the false glare of reputation necessarily deepened curi- 
 osity, and widened the range of speculators and observers. 
 
 Suddenly, however, a new object of attention excited new 
 interest; new whispers ran through the crowd, and these 
 awakened Maltravers from his revery. He looked up, and 
 beheld all eyes fixed upon one form! His own eyes encoun- 
 tered those of Evelyn Cameron! 
 
 It was the first time he had seen this beautiful young 
 person in all the eclat, pomp, and circumstance of her station, 
 as the heiress of the opulent Templeton, the first time he 
 had seen her the cynosure of crowds, who, had her features 
 been homely, would have admired the charms of her fortune 
 in her face. And now, as radiant with youth, and the flush 
 of excitement on her soft cheek, she met his eye, he said to 
 himself: "And could I have wished one so new to the world 
 to have united her lot with a man for whom all that to her is 
 delight has grown wearisome and stale? Could I have been 
 justified in stealing her from the admiration that, at her age 
 and to her sex, has so sweet a flattery? Or, on the other 
 hand, could I have gone back to her years, and sympathized
 
 204 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 with feelings that time has taught me to despise? Better as 
 it is." 
 
 Influenced by these thoughts, the greeting of Maltravers 
 disappointed and saddened Evelyn, she knew not why; it was 
 constrained and grave. 
 
 "Does not Miss Cameron look well?" whispered Mrs. 
 Merton, on whose arm the heiress leaned. "You observe 
 what a sensation she creates?" 
 
 Evelyn overheard, and blushed as she stole a glance at 
 Maltravers. There was something mournful in the admira- 
 tion which spoke in his deep earnest eyes. 
 
 "Everywhere," said he, calmly, and in the same tone, 
 "everywhere Miss Cameron appears, she must outshine all 
 others." He turned to Evelyn, and said with a smile, "You 
 must learn to inure yourself to admiration; a year or two 
 hence, and you will not blush at your own gifts ! " 
 
 " And you, too, contribute to spoil me ! fie ! " 
 
 "Are you so easily spoiled? If I meet you hereafter, you 
 will think my compliments cold to the common language of 
 others." 
 
 "You do not know me, perhaps you never will." 
 
 "I am contented with the fair pages I have already read." 
 
 "Where is Lady Raby?" asked Mrs. Merton. "Oh, I see; 
 Evelyn, my love, we must present ourselves to our hostess." 
 
 The ladies moved on; and when Maltravers next caught a 
 glance of Evelyn, she was with Lady Raby, and Lord Var- 
 grave also was by her side. 
 
 The whispers round him had grown louder. 
 
 "Very lovely indeed I so young, too! and she is really 
 going to be married to Lord Vargrave: so much older than 
 she is, quite a sacrifice ! " 
 
 " Scarcely so. He is so agreeable, and still handsome. But 
 are you sure that the thing is settled?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Lord Raby himself told me so. It will take 
 place very soon." 
 
 "But do you know who her mother was? I cannot make 
 out." 
 
 "Nothing particular. You know the late Lord Vargrave
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 205 
 
 was a man of low birth. I believe she was a widow of his 
 own rank; she lives quite in seclusion." 
 
 "How d'ye do, Mr. Maltravers? So glad to see you," said 
 the quick, shrill voice of Mrs. Hare. "Beautiful balll No- 
 body does things like Lord Raby; don't you dance?" 
 
 "No, madam." 
 
 " Oh, you young gentlemen are so fine nowadays ! " (Mrs. 
 Hare, laying stress on the word young, thought she had paid 
 a very elegant compliment, and ran on with increased 
 complacency.) 
 
 " You are going to let Burleigh, I hear, to Lord Doltimore, 
 
 is it true? No! really now, what stories people do tell. 
 Elegant man, Lord Doltimore! Is it true, that Miss Caro- 
 line is going to marry his lordship? Great match! No scan- 
 dal, I hope; you'll excuse me! Two weddings on the tapis, 
 
 quite stirring for our stupid county. Lady Vargrave and 
 Lady Doltimore, two new peeresses. Which do you think is 
 the handsomer? Miss Merton is the taller, but there is some- 
 thing fierce in her eyes. Don't you think so? By the by, I 
 wish you joy, you '11 excuse me." 
 
 " Wish me joy, madam? " 
 
 " Oh, you are so close. Mr. Hare says he shall support you. 
 You will have all the ladies with you. Well, I declare, Lord 
 Vargrave is going to dance. How old is he, do you think? " 
 
 Maltravers uttered an audible pshaw, and moved away; 
 but his penance was not over. Lord Vargrave, much as he 
 disliked dancing, still thought it wise to ask the fair hand of 
 Evelyn; and Evelyn, also, could not refuse. 
 
 And now, as the crowd gathered round the red ropes, 
 Maltravers had to undergo new exclamations at Evelyn's 
 beauty and Vargrave's luck. Impatiently he turned from the 
 spot, with that gnawing sickness of the heart which none but 
 the jealous know. He longed to depart, yet dreaded to do so. 
 It was the last time he should see Evelyn, perhaps for years; 
 the last time he should see her as Miss Cameron ! 
 
 He passed into another room, deserted by all save four old 
 gentlemen Cleveland one of them immersed in whist; and 
 threw himself u^wn^an, ottoman, placed in a recess by the oriel
 
 206 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 window. There, half concealed by the draperies, he com- 
 muned and reasoned with himself. His heart was sad within 
 him; he never felt before how deeply and how passionately he 
 loved Evelyn; how firmly that love had fastened upon the 
 very core of his heart! Strange, indeed, it was in a girl so 
 young, of whom he had seen but little, and that little in 
 positions of such quiet and ordinary interest, to excite a 
 passion so intense in a man who had gone through strong 
 emotions and stern trials! But all love is unaccountable. 
 The solitude in which Maltravers had lived, the absence of 
 all other excitement, perhaps had contributed largely to fan 
 the flame. And his affections had so long slept, and after 
 long sleep the passions wake with such giant strength ! He 
 felt now too well that the last rose of life had bloomed for 
 him; it was blighted in its birth, but it could never be re- 
 placed. Henceforth, indeed, he should be alone, the hopes 
 of home were gone forever; and the other occupations of mind 
 and soul literature, pleasure, ambition were already for- 
 sworn at the very age in which by most men they are most 
 indulged ! 
 
 Youth! begin not thy career too soon, and let one passion 
 succeed in its due order to another; so that every season of 
 life may have its appropriate pursuit and charm! 
 
 The hours waned; still Maltravers stirred not; nor were his 
 meditations disturbed, except by occasional ejaculations from 
 the four old gentlemen, as between each deal they moralized 
 over the caprices of the cards. 
 
 At length, close beside him he heard that voice, the lightest 
 sound of which could send the blood rushing through his 
 veins; and from his retreat he saw Caroline and Evelyn, 
 seated close by. 
 
 "I beg pardon," said the former, in a low voice, "I beg 
 pardon, Evelyn, for calling you away; but I longed to tell 
 you. The die is cast. Lord Doltimore has proposed, and I 
 have accepted him! Alas, alas! I half wish I could retract!" 
 
 "Dearest Caroline!" said the silver voice of Evelyn, "for 
 Heaven's sake, do not thus wantonly resolve on your own 
 unhappiness ! You wrong yourself, Caroline ! you do, indeed !
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 207 
 
 You are not the vain ambitious character you affect to be! 
 Ah, what is it you require? Wealth? Are you not my 
 friend; am I not rich enough for both? Rank? What can 
 it give you to compensate for the misery of a union without 
 love? Pray, forgive me for speaking thus. Do not think me 
 presumptuous, or romantic; but, indeed, indeed, I know from 
 my own heart what yours must undergo ! " 
 
 Caroline pressed her friend's hand with emotion. 
 
 " You are a bad comforter, Evelyn. My mother, my father, 
 will preach a very different doctrine. I am foolish, indeed, 
 to be so sad in obtaining the very object I have sought! Poor 
 Doltimore! he little knows the nature, the feelings of her 
 whom he thinks he has made the happiest of her sex; he little 
 knows " Caroline paused, turned pale as death, and then 
 went rapidly on, " but you, Evelyn, you will meet the same 
 fate; we shall bear it together." 
 
 " No ! no ! do not think so ! Where I give my hand, there 
 shall I give my heart." 
 
 At this time Maltravers half rose, and sighed audibly. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Caroline, in alarm. At the same moment, 
 the whist-table broke up, and Cleveland approached 
 Maltravers. 
 
 "I am at your service," said he ; "I know you will not stay 
 the supper. You will find me in the next room; I am just 
 going to speak to Lord Saxingham." The gallant old gentle- 
 man then paid a compliment to the young ladies, and walked 
 away. 
 
 " So you too are a deserter from the ballroom ! " said Miss 
 Merton to Maltravers as she rose. 
 
 " I am not very well; but do not let me frighten you away." 
 
 "Oh, no! I hear the music; it is the last quadrille before 
 supper: and here is my fortunate partner looking for me." 
 
 "I have been everywhere in search of you," said Lord 
 Doltimore, in an accent of tender reproach: "come, we are 
 almost too late now." 
 
 Caroline put her arm into Lord Doltimore's, who hurried 
 her into the ballroom. 
 
 Miss Cameron looked irresolute whether or not to follow,
 
 208 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 when Maltravers seated himself beside her; and the paleness 
 of his brow, and something that bespoke pain in the com- 
 pressed lip, went at once to her heart. In her childlike ten- 
 derness, she would have given worlds for the sister's privilege 
 of sympathy and soothing. The room was now deserted ; they 
 were alone. 
 
 The words that he had overheard from Evelyn's lips, 
 " Where I shall give my hand, there shall I give my heart, " 
 Maltravers interpreted but in one sense, " she loved her be- 
 trothed ; " and strange as it may seem, at that thought, which 
 put the last seal upon his fate, selfish anguish was less felt 
 than deep compassion. So young, so courted, so tempted as 
 she must be and with such a protector! the cold, the 
 unsympathizing, the heartless Vargrave! She, too, whose 
 feelings, so warm, ever trembled on her lip and eye. Oh! 
 when she awoke from her dream, and knew whom she had 
 loved, what might be her destiny, what her danger! 
 
 "Miss Cameron," said Maltravers, "let me for one moment 
 detain you; I will not trespass long. May I once, and for the 
 last time, assume the austere rights of friendship? I have 
 seen much of life, Miss Cameron, and my experience has been 
 purchased dearly; and harsh and hermit-like as I may have 
 grown, I have not outlived such feelings as you are well 
 formed to excite. Nay," and Maltravers smiled sadly "I 
 am not about to compliment or flatter, I speak not to you as 
 the young to the young ; the difference of our years, that takes 
 away sweetness from flattery, leaves still sincerity to friend- 
 ship. You have inspired me with a deep interest, deeper 
 than I thought that living beauty could ever rouse in me 
 again ! It may be that something in the tone of your voice, 
 your manner, a nameless grace that I cannot define, reminds 
 me of one whom I knew in youth, one who had not your 
 advantages of education, wealth, birth; but to whom Nature 
 was more kind than Fortune." 
 
 He paused a moment; and without looking towards Evelyn, 
 thus renewed, 
 
 "You are entering life under brilliant auspices. Ah, let 
 me hope that the noonday will keep the promise of the dawn !
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 209 
 
 You are susceptible, imaginative; do not demand too much, 
 or dream too fondly. When you are wedded, do not imagine 
 that wedded life is exempt from its trials and its cares; if 
 you know yourself beloved and beloved you must be do 
 not ask from the busy and anxious spirit of man all which 
 Romance promises and Life but rarely yields. And oh!" 
 continued Maltravers, with an absorbing and earnest passion, 
 that poured forth its language with almost breathless rapidity, 
 
 " if ever your heart rebels, if ever it be dissatisfied, fly the 
 false sentiment as a sin! Thrown, as from your rank you 
 must be, on a world of a thousand perils, with no guide so 
 constant and so safe as your own innocence, make not that 
 world too dear a friend. Were it possible that your own 
 home ever could be lonely or unhappy, reflect that to woman 
 the unhappiest home is happier than all excitement abroad. 
 You will have a thousand suitors hereafter: believe that the 
 asp lurks under the flatterer's tongue, and resolve, come what 
 may, to be contented with your lot. How many have I known, 
 lovely and pure as you, who have suffered the very affections 
 
 the very beauty of their nature to destroy them! Listen 
 to me as a warner, as a brother, as a pilot who has passed the 
 seas on which your vessel is about to launch. And ever, ever 
 let me know, in whatever lands your name may reach me, 
 that one who has brought back to me all my faith in human 
 excellence, while the idol of our sex, is the glory of her own. 
 Forgive me this strange impertinence; my heart is full, and 
 has overflowed. And now, Miss Cameron Evelyn Cameron 
 
 this is my last offence, and my last farewell ! " 
 
 He held out his hand, and involuntarily, unknowingly, she 
 clasped it, as if to detain him till she could summon words to 
 reply. Suddenly he heard Lord Vargrave's voice behind. 
 The spell was broken; the next moment Evelyn was alone, 
 and the throng swept into the room towards the banquet, and 
 laughter and gay voices were heard, and Lord Vargrave was 
 again by Evelyn's side! 
 
 14
 
 210 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 To you 
 This jouruey is devoted. 
 
 Lover's Progress, Act iv. sc. 1 . 
 
 As Cleveland and Maltravers returned homeward, the latter 
 abruptly checked the cheerful garrulity of his friend. "I 
 have a favour, a great favour to ask of you." 
 
 ''And what is that?" 
 
 "Let us leave Burleigh to-morrow; I care not at what hour; 
 we need go but two or three stages if you are fatigued." 
 
 "Most hospitable host! and why?" 
 
 "It is torture, it is agony to me, to breathe the air of 
 Burleigh," cried Maltravers, wildly. "Can you not guess 
 my secret? Have I then concealed it so well? I love, I 
 adore Evelyn Cameron, and she is betrothed to she loves 
 another ! " 
 
 Mr. Cleveland was breathless with amaze; Maltravers had 
 indeed so well concealed his secret, and now his emotion was 
 so impetuous, that it startled and alarmed the old man, who 
 had never himself experienced a passion, though he had 
 indulged a sentiment. He sought to console and soothe; 
 but after the first burst of agony, Maltravers recovered him- 
 self, and said gently, 
 
 " Let us never return to this subject again : it is right that 
 I should conquer this madness, and conquer it I will ! Now 
 you know my weakness, you will indulge it. My cure cannot 
 commence until I can no longer see from my casements the 
 very roof that shelters the affianced bride of another." 
 
 "Certainly, then, we will set off to-morrow: my poor 
 friend! is it indeed " 
 
 "Ah, cease," interrupted the proud man; "no compassion, 
 I implore : give me but time and silence, they are the only 
 remedies."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 211 
 
 Before noon the next day, Burleigh was once more deserted 
 by its lord. As the carriage drove through the village, Mrs. 
 Elton saw it from her open window; but her patron, too ab- 
 sorbed at that hour even for benevolence, forgot her existence : 
 and yet so complicated are the webs of fate, that in the breast 
 of that lowly stranger was locked a secret of the most vital 
 moment to Maltravers. 
 
 "Where is he going; where is the squire going?" asked 
 Mrs. Elton, anxiously. 
 
 " Dear heart ! " said the cottager, " they do say he be going 
 for a short time to foren parts. But he will be back at 
 Christmas." 
 
 " And at Christmas I may be gone hence forever, " muttered 
 the invalid; " but what will that matter to him to any one? " 
 
 At the first stage Maltravers and his friend were detained 
 a short time for the want of horses. Lord Eaby's house had 
 been filled with guests on the preceding night, and the stables 
 of this little inn, dignified with the sign of the Kaby Arms, 
 and about two miles distant from the great man's place, had 
 been exhausted by numerous claimants returning homeward 
 from Knaresdean. It was a quiet, solitary post-house, and 
 patience, till some jaded horses should return, was the only 
 remedy; the host, assuring the travellers that he expected 
 four horses every moment, invited them within. The morn- 
 ing was cold, and the fire not unacceptable to Mr. Cleveland; 
 so they went into the little parlour. Here they found an 
 elderly gentleman of very prepossessing appearance, who was 
 waiting for the same object. He moved courteously from 
 the fireplace as the travellers entered, and pushed the 
 
 " B shire Chronicle " towards Cleveland : Cleveland bowed 
 
 urbanely. "A cold day, sir; the autumn begins to show 
 itself." 
 
 "It is true, sir," answered the old gentleman; "and I feel 
 the cold the more, having just quitted the genial atmosphere 
 of the South." 
 
 "Of Italy?" 
 
 " No, of England only. I see by this paper (I am not much 
 of a politician) that there is a chance of a dissolution of par-
 
 212 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 liament, and that Mr. Maltravers is likely to come forward 
 for this county; are you acquainted with him, sir?" 
 
 "A little," said Cleveland, smiling. 
 
 "He is a man I am much interested in," said the old 
 gentleman; "and I hope soon to be honoured with his 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " Indeed! and you are going into his neighbourhood? " asked 
 Cleveland, looking more attentively at the stranger, and much 
 pleased with a certain simple candour in his countenance and 
 manner. 
 
 "Yes, to Merton Rectory." 
 
 Maltravers, who had been hitherto stationed by the window, 
 turned round. 
 
 "To Merton Eectory?" repeated Cleveland. "You are 
 acquainted with Mr. Merton, then?" 
 
 "Not yet; but I know some of his family. However, my 
 visit is rather to a young lady who is staying at the rectory, 
 Miss Cameron." 
 
 Maltravers sighed heavily; and the old gentleman looked 
 at him curiously. "Perhaps, sir, if you know that neigh- 
 bourhood, you may have seen " 
 
 "Miss Cameron! Certainly; it is an honour not easily 
 forgotten." 
 
 The old gentleman looked pleased. 
 
 " The dear child ! " said he, with a burst of honest affection, 
 and he passed his hand over his eyes. Maltravers drew near 
 to him. 
 
 "You know Miss Cameron; you are to be envied, sir," 
 said he. 
 
 " I have known her since she was a child ; Lady Vargrave 
 is my dearest friend." 
 
 " Lady Vargrave must be worthy of such a daughter. Only 
 under the light of a sweet disposition and pure heart could 
 that beautiful nature have been trained and reared." 
 
 Maltravers spoke with enthusiasm; and, as if fearful to 
 trust himself more, left the room. 
 
 " That gentleman speaks not more warmly than justly, " said 
 the old man, with some surprise. "He has a countenance
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 213 
 
 which, if physiognomy be a true science, declares his praise 
 to be no common compliment; may I inquire his name?" 
 
 "Maltravers," replied Cleveland, a little vain of the effect 
 his ex-pupil's name was to produce. 
 
 The curate for it was he started and changed counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "Maltravers! but he is not about to leave the county?" 
 
 "Yes, for a few months." 
 
 Here the host entered. Four horses, that had been only 
 fourteen miles, had just re-entered the yard. If Mr. Mal- 
 travers could spare two to that gentleman, who had, indeed, 
 pre-engaged them? 
 
 "Certainly," said Cleveland; "but be quick." 
 
 "And is Lord Vargrave still at Mr. Merton's?" asked the 
 curate, musingly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I believe so. Miss Cameron is to be married to 
 him very shortly, is it not so?" 
 
 " I cannot say, " returned Aubrey, rather bewildered. " You 
 know Lord Vargrave, sir?" 
 
 "Extremely well!" 
 
 "And you think him worthy of Miss Cameron?" 
 
 "That is a question for her to answer. But I see the 
 horses are put to. Good-day, sir! Will you tell your fair 
 young friend that you have met an old gentleman who 
 wishes her all happiness; and if she ask you his name, say 
 Cleveland?" 
 
 So saying, Mr. Cleveland bowed, and re-entered the car- 
 riage. But Maltravers was yet missing. In fact, he returned 
 to the house by the back way, and went once more into the 
 little parlour. It was something to see again one who would 
 so soon see Evelyn! 
 
 "If I mistake not," said Maltravers, "you are that Mr. 
 Aubrey on whose virtues I have often heard Miss Cameron 
 delight to linger? Will you believe my regret that our 
 acquaintance is now so brief?" 
 
 As Maltravers spoke thus simply, there was in his counte- 
 nance, his voice, a melancholy sweetness, which greatly con- 
 ciliated the good curate ; arid as Aubrey gazed upon his noble
 
 214 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 features and lofty mien, he no longer wondered at the fasci- 
 nation he had appeared to exercise over the young Evelyn. 
 
 "And may I not hope, Mr. Maltravers," said he, "that 
 before long our acquaintance may be renewed? Could not 
 Miss Cameron," he added, with a smile and a penetrating 
 look, "tempt you into Devonshire?" 
 
 Maltravers shook his head, and, muttering something not 
 very audible, quitted the room. The curate heard the whirl 
 of the wheels, and the host entered to inform him that his 
 own carriage was now ready. 
 
 "There is something in this," thought Aubrey, "which I 
 do not comprehend. His manner, his trembling voice, be- 
 spoke emotions he struggled to conceal. Can Lord Vargrave 
 have gained his point? Is Evelyn, indeed, no longer free?" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CEETES, c'est un grand cas, leas, 
 
 Que toujours tracas ou fracas 
 
 Vous faites d'une ou d'autre sort ; 
 
 C'est le diable qui vous emporte ! * VOITURE. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE had passed the night of the ball and the 
 following morning at Knaresdean. It was necessary to bring 
 the counsels of the scheming conclave to a full and definite 
 conclusion; and this was at last effected. Their strength 
 numbered, friends and foes alike canvassed and considered, 
 and due account taken of the waverers to be won over, it 
 really did seem, even to the least sanguine, that the Saxing- 
 ham or Vargrave party was one that might well aspire either 
 to dictate to, or to break up, a government. Nothing now 
 was left to consider but the favourable hour for action. In 
 high spirits, Lord Vargrave returned about the middle of the 
 day to the rectory. 
 
 1 " Certes, it is the fact, Teas, that you are always engaged in tricks or 
 scrapes of some sort or other ; it must be the devil that bewitches you."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 215 
 
 "So," thought he, as he reclined in his carriage, "so, in 
 politics, the prospect clears as the sun breaks out. The party 
 I have espoused is one that must be the most durable, for it 
 possesses the greatest property and the most stubborn preju- 
 dice what elements for Party ! All that I now require is a 
 sufficient fortune to back my ambition. Nothing can clog my 
 way but these cursed debts, this disreputable want of gold. 
 And yet Evelyn alarms me ! Were I younger, or had I not 
 made my position too soon, I would marry her by fraud or by 
 force, run off with her to Gretna, and make Vulcan minis- 
 ter to Plutus. But this would never do at my years, and 
 with my reputation. A pretty story for the newspapers, d n 
 them ! Well, nothing venture, nothing have ; I will brave the 
 hazard! Meanwhile, Doltimore is mine; Caroline will rule 
 him, and I rule her. His vote and his boroughs are some- 
 thing, his money will be more immediately useful : I must 
 do him the honour to borrow a few thousands, Caroline 
 must manage that for me. The fool is miserly, though a 
 spendthrift; and looked black when 1 delicately hinted the 
 other day that I wanted a friend id est, a loan ! money and 
 friendship same thing, distinction without a difference ! " 
 Thus cogitating, Vargrave whiled away the minutes till his 
 carriage stopped at Mr. Merton's door. 
 
 As he entered the hall he met Caroline, who had just quitted 
 her own room. 
 
 "How lucky I am that you have on your bonnet! I long 
 for a walk with you round the lawn." 
 
 "And I, too, am glad to see you, Lord Vargrave," said 
 Caroline, putting her arm in his. 
 
 "Accept my best congratulations, my own sweet friend," 
 said Vargrave, when they were in the grounds. " You have 
 no idea how happy Doltimore is. He came to Knaresdean 
 yesterday to communicate the news, and his neckcloth was 
 primmer than ever. C'est un bon enfant." 
 
 "Ah, how can you talk thus? Do you feel no pain at the 
 thought that that I am another's?" 
 
 " Your heart will be ever mine, and that is the true 
 fidelity. What else, too, could be done? As for Lord Dolti-
 
 216 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 more, we will go shares in him. Come, cheer thee, m'amie ; 
 I rattle on thus to keep up your spirits. Do not fancy I 
 am happy!" 
 
 Caroline let fall a few tears ; but beneath the influence of 
 Vargrave's sophistries and flatteries, she gradually recovered 
 her usual hard and worldly tone of mind. 
 
 "And where is Evelyn?" asked Vargrave. "Do you know, 
 the little witch seemed to be half mad the night of the ball. 
 Her head was turned; and when she sat next me at sup- 
 per, she not only answered every question I put to her a 
 tort et a travers, but I fancied every moment she was going 
 to burst out crying. Can you tell what was the matter with 
 her?" 
 
 " She was grieved to hear that I was to be married to the 
 man I do not love. Ah, Vargrave, she has more heart than 
 you have ! " 
 
 "But she never fancies that you love me?" asked Lumley, 
 in alarm. " You women are so confoundedly confidential ! " 
 
 "No, she does not suspect our secret." 
 
 " Then I scarcely think your approaching marriage was a 
 sufficient cause for so much distraction." 
 
 " Perhaps she may have overheard some of the impertinent 
 whispers about her mother, 'Who was Lady Vargrave?' 
 and ' What Cameron was Lady Vargrave's first husband? ' / 
 overheard a hundred such vulgar questions; and provincial 
 people whisper so loud." 
 
 "Ah, that is a very probable solution of the mystery; and 
 for my part, I am almost as much puzzled as any one else can 
 be to know who Lady Vargrave was ! " 
 
 "Did not your uncle tell you?" 
 
 "He told me that she was of no very elevated birth and 
 station, nothing more; and she herself, with her quiet, 
 say-nothing manner, slips through all my careless question- 
 ings like an eel. She is still a beautiful creature, more regu- 
 larly handsome than even Evelyn ; and old Templeton had a 
 very sweet tooth at the back of his head, though he never 
 opened his mouth wide enough to show it." 
 
 " She must ever at least have been blameless, to judge by
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 217 
 
 an air which, even now, is more like that of a child than a 
 matron." 
 
 "Yes; she has not much of the widow about her, poor soul! 
 But her education, except in music, has not been very care- 
 fully attended to; and she knows about as much of the world 
 as the Bishop of Autun (better known as Prince Talleyrand) 
 knows of the Bible. If she were not so simple, she would be 
 silly; but silliness is never simple, always cunning; how- 
 ever, there is some cunning in her keeping her past Cameron- 
 ian Chronicles so close. Perhaps I may know more about her 
 
 in a short time, for I intend going to C , where my uncle 
 
 once lived, in order to see if I can revive under the rose 
 since peers are only contraband electioneerers his old par- 
 liamentary influence in that city: and they may tell me more 
 there than I now know." 
 
 " Did the late lord marry at C ? " 
 
 " JS"o ; in Devonshire. I do not even know if Mrs. Cameron 
 ever was at C . " 
 
 "You must be curious to know who the father of your 
 intended wife was?" 
 
 "Her father! No; I have no curiosity in that quarter. 
 And, to tell you the truth, I am much too busy about the 
 Present to be raking into that heap of rubbish we call the 
 Past. I fancy that both your good grandmother and that 
 comely old curate of Brook-Green know everything about 
 Lady Vargrave; and, as they esteem her so much, I take it 
 for granted she is sans tache." 
 
 " How could I be so stupid ! A propos of the curate, I for- 
 got to tell you that he is here. He arrived about two hours 
 ago, and has been closeted with Evelyn ever since! " 
 
 "The deuce! What brought the old man hither? " 
 
 "That I know not. Papa received a letter from him yes- 
 terday morning, to say that he would be here to-day. Perhaps 
 Lady Vargrave thinks it time for Evelyn to return home." 
 
 "What am I to do?" said Vargrave, anxiously. "Dare I 
 yet venture to propose?" 
 
 " I am sure it will be in vain, Vargrave. You must prepare 
 for disappointment."
 
 218 ALICE? OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "And ruin," muttered Vargrave, gloomily. "Hark you, 
 Caroline, she may refuse me if she pleases. But I am not a 
 man to be baffled. Have her I will, by one means or another ; 
 revenge urges me to it almost as much as ambition. That 
 girl's thread of life has been the dark line in my woof; she 
 has robbed me of fortune, she now thwarts me in my career, 
 she humbles me in my vanity. But, like a hound that has 
 tasted blood, I will run her down, whatever winding she 
 takes." 
 
 "Vargrave, you terrify me! Reflect; we do not live in an 
 age when violence " 
 
 " Tush ! " interrupted Lumley, with one of those dark looks 
 which at times, though very rarely, swept away all its cus- 
 tomary character from that smooth, shrewd countenance. 
 " Tush ! We live in an age as favourable to intellect and to 
 energy as ever was painted in romance. I have that faith in 
 fortune and myself that I tell you, with a prophet's voice, 
 that Evelyn shall fulfil the wish of my dying uncle. But the 
 bell summons us back." 
 
 On returning to the house, Lord Vargrave's valet gave 
 him a letter which had arrived that morning. It was from 
 Mr. Gustavus Douce, and ran thus : 
 
 FLEET STREET, 20, 18 
 
 MY LORD, It is with the greatest regret that i apprise you, for 
 Self & Co., that we shall not be able in the present state of the Money 
 Market to renew your Lordship's bill for 10,000, due the 28th instant. 
 Respectfully calling your Lordship's attention to the same, I have the 
 honour to be, for Self & Co., my Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient and most obliged humble servant, 
 
 GUSTAVUS DOUCE. 
 To the Right Hon. LORD VARGRAVE, etc. 
 
 This letter sharpened Lord Vargrave's anxiety and resolve ; 
 nay, it seemed almost to sharpen his sharp features as he mut- 
 tered sundry denunciations on Messrs. Douce and Co., while 
 arranging his neckcloth at the glass.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 219 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Sol. Why, please your honourable lordship, we were talking here and 
 there, this and that. The Stranger. 
 
 AUBREY had been closeted with Evelyn the whole morning; 
 and, simultaneous with his arrival, came to her the news of 
 the departure of Maltravers. It was an intelligence that 
 greatly agitated and unnerved her; and, coupling that event 
 with his solemn words on the previous night, Evelyn asked 
 herself, in wonder, what sentiments she could have inspired 
 in Maltravers. Could he love her, her, so young, so infe- 
 rior, so uninformed? Impossible! Alas! alas! for Mal- 
 travers! His genius, his gifts, his towering qualities, 
 all that won the admiration, almost the awe, of Evelyn, 
 placed him at a distance from her heart! When she asked 
 herself if he loved her, she did not ask, even in that hour, if 
 she loved him. But even the question she did ask, her judg- 
 ment answered erringly in the negative. Why should he love, 
 and yet fly her? She understood not his high- wrought scru- 
 ples, his self-deluding belief. Aubrey was more puzzled than 
 enlightened by his conversation with his pupil; only one 
 thing seemed certain, her delight to return to the cottage 
 and her mother. 
 
 Evelyn could not sufficiently recover her composure to mix 
 with the party below ; and Aubrey, at the sound of the second 
 dinner-bell, left her to her solitude, and bore her excuses to 
 Mrs. Merton. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said that worthy lady ; " I am so sorry. I 
 thought Miss Cameron looked fatigued at breakfast, and 
 there was something hysterical in her spirits; and I sup- 
 pose the surprise of your arrival has upset her. Caroline, 
 my dear, you had better go and see what she would like to 
 have taken up to her room, a little soup and the wing of a 
 chicken."
 
 220 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "My dear," said Mr. Merton, rather pompously, "I think 
 it would be but a proper respect to Miss Cameron, if you 
 yourself accompanied Caroline." 
 
 "I assure you," said the curate, alarmed at the avalanche 
 of politeness that threatened poor Evelyn, "I assure you 
 that Miss Cameron would prefer being left alone at present} 
 as you say, Mrs. Merton, her spirits are rather agitated." 
 
 But Mrs. Merton, with a sliding bow, had already quitted 
 the room, and Caroline with her. 
 
 " Come back, Sophy ! Cecilia, come back ! " said Mr. Mer- 
 ton, settling his jabot. 
 
 " Oh, dear Evy ! poor dear Evy ! Evy is ill ! " said Sophy ; 
 "I may go to Evy? I must go, Papa! " 
 
 "No, my dear, you are too noisy; these children are quite 
 spoiled, Mr. Aubrey." 
 
 The old man looked at them benevolently, and drew them 
 to his knee; and, while Cissy stroked his long white hair, 
 and Sophy ran on about dear Evy's prettiness and goodness, 
 Lord Vargrave sauntered into the room. 
 
 On seeing the curate, his frank face lighted up with sur- 
 prise and pleasure; he hastened to him, seized him by both 
 hands, expressed the most heartfelt delight at seeing him, 
 inquired tenderly after Lady Vargrave, and, not till he was 
 out of breath, and Mrs. Merton and Caroline returning ap- 
 prised him of Miss Cameron's indisposition, did his rapture 
 vanish; and, as a moment before he was all joy, so now he 
 was all sorrow. 
 
 The dinner passed off dully enough; the children, re- 
 admitted to dessert, made a little relief to all parties; and 
 when they and the two ladies went, Aubrey himself quickly 
 rose to join Evelyn. 
 
 "Are you going to Miss Cameron?" said Lord Vargrave; 
 "pray say how unhappy I feel at her illness. I think these 
 grapes they are very fine could not hurt her. May I ask 
 you to present them with my best best and most anxious re- 
 gards? I shall be so uneasy till you return. Now, Merton (as 
 the door closed on the curate), let 's have another bottle of this 
 famous claret! Droll old fellow that, quite a character! "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 221 
 
 "He is a great favourite with Lady Vargrave and Miss 
 Cameron, I believe," said Mr. Merton. "A mere village 
 priest, I suppose; no talent, no energy or he could not 
 be a curate at that age." 
 
 " Very true, a shrewd remark. The Church is as good a 
 profession as any other for getting on, if a man has anything 
 in him. I shall live to see you a bishop! " 
 
 Mr. Merton shook his head. 
 
 "Yes, I shall; though you have hitherto disdained to 
 exhibit any one of the three orthodox qualifications for a 
 mitre." 
 
 "And what are they, my lord?" 
 
 "Editing a Greek play, writing a political pamphlet, and 
 apostatizing at the proper moment." 
 
 "Ha, ha ! your lordship is severe on us." 
 
 " Not I ; I often wish I had been brought up to the Church, 
 famous profession, properly understood. By Jupiter, I 
 should have been a capital bishop ! " 
 
 In his capacity of parson, Mr. Merton tried to look grave ; 
 in his capacity of a gentlemanlike, liberal fellow, he gave up 
 the attempt, and laughed pleasantly at the joke of the rising 
 man. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WILL nothing please you? 
 
 What do you think of the Court 1 The Plain Dealer. 
 
 ON one subject Aubrey found no difficulty in ascertaining 
 Evelyn's wishes and condition of mind. The experiment of 
 her visit, so far as Vargrave's hopes were concerned, had 
 utterly failed ; she could not contemplate the prospect of his 
 alliance, and she poured out to the curate, frankly and fully, 
 all her desire to effect a release from her engagement. As it 
 was now settled that she should return with Aubrey to Brook- 
 Green, it was indeed necessary to come to the long-delayed
 
 222 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 understanding with her betrothed. Yet this was difficult, for 
 he had so little pressed, so distantly alluded to, their engage- 
 ment, that it was like a forwardness, an indelicacy in Evelyn to 
 forestall the longed-for yet dreaded explanation. This, how- 
 ever, Aubrey took upon himself; and at this promise Evelyn 
 felt as the slave may feel when the chain is stricken off. 
 
 At breakfast, Mr. Aubrey communicated to the Mertons 
 Evelyn's intention to return with him to Brook-Green on the 
 following day. Lord Vargrave started, bit his lip, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 Not so silent was Mr. Merton. 
 
 "Keturn with you! my dear Mr. Aubrey, just consider; it is 
 impossible ! You see Miss Cameron's rank of life, her posi- 
 tion, so very strange ; no servants of her own here but her 
 woman, no carriage even ! You would not have her travel 
 in a post-chaise such a long journey! Lord Vargrave, you 
 can never consent to that, I am sure? " 
 
 "Were it only as Miss Cameron's guardian," said Lord 
 Vargrave, pointedly, "I should certainly object to such a 
 mode of performing such a journey. Perhaps Mr. Aubrey 
 means to perfect the project by taking two outside places on 
 the top of the coach? " 
 
 "Pardon me," said the curate, mildly, "but I am not so 
 ignorant of what is due to Miss Cameron as you suppose. 
 Lady Vargrave's carriage, which brought me hither, will be 
 no unsuitable vehicle for Lady Vargrave's daughter; and Miss 
 Cameron is not, I trust, quite so spoiled by all your friendly 
 attentions as to be unable to perform a journey of two days 
 with no other protector than myself." 
 
 " I forgot Lady Vargrave's carriage, or rather I was not 
 aware that you had used it, my dear sir," said Mr. Merton. 
 "But you must not blame us, if we are sorry to lose Miss 
 Cameron so suddenly; I was in hopes that you too would stay 
 at least a week with us." 
 
 The curate bowed at the rector's condescending politeness ; 
 and just as he was about to answer, Mrs. Merton put in, 
 
 " And you see I had set my heart on her being Caroline's 
 bridesmaid."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 223 
 
 Caroline turned pale, and glanced at Vargrave, who ap- 
 peared solely absorbed in breaking toast into his tea, a 
 delicacy he had never before been known to favour. 
 
 There was an awkward pause. The servant opportunely 
 entered with a small parcel of books, a note to Mr. Merton, 
 and that most blessed of all blessed things in the country, 
 the letter-bag. 
 
 "What is this?" said the rector, opening his note, while 
 Mrs. Merton unlocked the bag and dispensed the contents: 
 " Left Burleigh for some mouths, a day or two sooner than he 
 had expected; excuse French leave-taking; return Miss Mer- 
 ton's books, much obliged; gamekeeper has orders to place 
 the Burleigh preserves at my disposal. So we have lost our 
 neighbour ! " 
 
 "Did you not know Mr. Maltravers was gone?" said Caro- 
 line. "I heard so from Jenkins last night; he accompanies 
 Mr. Cleveland to Paris." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Merton, opening her eyes. " What 
 could take him to Paris?" 
 
 "Pleasure, I suppose," answered Caroline. "I'm sure I 
 should rather have wondered what could detain him at 
 Burleigh." 
 
 Vargrave was all this while breaking open seals and run- 
 ning his eyes over sundry scrawls with the practised rapidity 
 of the man of business; he came to the last letter. His coun- 
 tenance brightened. 
 
 "Koyal invitation, or rather command, to Windsor," he 
 cried. "I am afraid I, too, must leave you, this very day." 
 
 "Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton; "is that from the 
 king? Do let me see! " 
 
 "Not exactly from the king; the same thing though:" and 
 Lord Vargrave, carelessly pushing the gracious communica- 
 tion towards the impatient hand and loyal gaze of Mrs. Mer- 
 ton, carefully put the other letters in his pocket, and walked 
 musingly to the window. 
 
 Aubrey seized the opportunity to approach him. "My 
 lord, can I speak with you a few moments?" 
 
 "Me! certainly; will you come to my dressing-room? "
 
 224 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 . . THERE was never 
 Poor gentleman had such a sudden fortune. 
 
 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER : The Captain, Act v. sc. 5. 
 
 "MY LORD," said the curate, as Vargrave, leaning back in 
 his chair, appeared to examine the shape of his boots, while 
 in reality "his sidelong looks," not "of love," were fixed 
 upon his companion, "I need scarcely refer to the wish of 
 the late lord, your uncle, relative to Miss Cameron and your- 
 self; nor need I, to one of a generous spirit, add that an 
 engagement could be only so far binding as both the parties 
 whose happiness is concerned should be willing in proper time 
 and season to fulfil it." 
 
 " Sir ! " said Vargrave, impatiently waving his hand ; and, 
 in his irritable surmise of what was to come, losing his habit- 
 ual self-control, "I know not what all this has to do with 
 you ; surely you trespass upon ground sacred to Miss Cameron 
 and myself? Whatever you have to say, let me beg you to 
 come at once to the point." 
 
 "My lord, I will obey you. Miss Cameron and, I may 
 add, with Lady Vargrave's consent deputes me to say 
 that, although she feels compelled to decline the honour of 
 your lordship's alliance, yet if in any arrangement of the for- 
 tune bequeathed to her she could testify to you, my lord, her 
 respect and friendship, it would afford her the most sincere 
 gratification. " 
 
 Lord Vargrave started. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "I know not if I am to thank you for this 
 information, the announcement of which so strangely coin- 
 cides with your arrival. But allow me to say that there needs 
 no ambassador between Miss Cameron and myself. It is due, 
 sir, to my station, to my relationship, to my character of 
 guardian, to my long and faithful affection, to all considera-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 225 
 
 tions which men of the world understand, which men of feel- 
 ing sympathize with, to receive from Miss Cameron alone the 
 rejection of my suit." 
 
 "Unquestionably Miss Cameron will grant your lordship 
 the interview you have a right to seek; but pardon me, I 
 thought it might save you both much pain, if the meeting 
 were prepared by a third person ; and on any matter of busi- 
 ness, any atonement to your lordship " 
 
 "Atonement! what can atone to me?" exclaimed Vargrave, 
 as he walked to and fro the room in great disorder and excite- 
 ment. " Can you give me back years of hope and expectancy, 
 the manhood wasted in a vain dream? Had I not been 
 taught to look to this reward, should I have rejected all occa- 
 sion while my youth was not yet all gone, while my heart 
 was not yet all occupied to form a suitable alliance? Nay, 
 should I have indulged in a high and stirring career, for 
 which my own fortune is by no means qualified? Atone- 
 ment! atonement! Talk of atonement to boys ! Sir, I stand 
 before you a man whose private happiness is blighted, whose 
 public prospects are darkened, life wasted, fortunes ruined, the 
 schemes of an existence built upon one hope, which was law- 
 fully indulged, overthrown ; and you talk to me of atonement ! " 
 
 Selfish as the nature of this complaint might be, Aubrey 
 was struck with its justice. 
 
 "My lord," said he, a little embarrassed, "I cannot deny 
 that there is truth in much of what you say. Alas ! it proves 
 how vain it is for man to calculate on the future ; how un- 
 happily your uncle erred in imposing conditions, which the 
 chances of life and the caprices of affection could at any 
 time dissolve! But this is blame that attaches only to the 
 dead : can you blame the living? " 
 
 "Sir, I considered myself bound by my uncle's prayer to 
 keep my hand and heart disengaged, that this title misera- 
 ble and barren distinction though it be! might, as he so 
 ardently desired, descend to Evelyn. I had a right to expect 
 similar honour upon her side ! " 
 
 " Surely, my lord, you, to whom the late lord on his death- 
 bed confided all the motives of his conduct and the secret of 
 
 15
 
 226 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 his life, cannot but be aware that, while desirous of promot- 
 ing your worldly welfare, and uniting in one line his rank and 
 his fortune, your uncle still had Evelyn's happiness at heart 
 as his warmest wish; you must know that, if that happiness 
 were forfeited by a marriage with you, the marriage became 
 but a secondary consideration. Lord Vargrave's will in itself 
 was a proof of this. He did not impose as an absolute condi- 
 tion upon Evelyn her union with yourself; he did not make 
 the forfeiture of her whole wealth the penalty of her rejection 
 of that alliance. By the definite limit of the forfeit, he inti- 
 mated a distinction between a command and a desire. And 
 surely, when you consider all circumstances, your lordship 
 must think that, what with that forfeit and the estate settled 
 upon the title, your uncle did all that in a worldly point of 
 view equity and even affection could exact from him." 
 
 Vargrave smiled bitterly, but said nothing. 
 
 "And if this be doubted, I have clearer proof of his inten- 
 tions. Such was his confidence in Lady Vargrave, that in the 
 letter he addressed to her before his death, and which I now 
 submit to your lordship, you will observe that he not only 
 expressly leaves it to Lady Vargrave's discretion to commu- 
 nicate to Evelyn that history of which she is at present igno- 
 rant, but that he also clearly defines the line of conduct he 
 wished to be adopted with respect to Evelyn and yourself. 
 Permit me to point out the passage." 
 
 Impatiently Lord Vargrave ran his eye over the letter 
 placed in his hand, till he came to these lines : 
 
 " And if, when she has arrived at the proper age to form a judgment, 
 Evelyn should decide against Lumley's claims, you know that on no ac- 
 count would I sacrifice her happiness ; that all I require is, that fair 
 play be given to his pretensions, due indulgence to the scheme T have 
 long had at heart. Let her be brought up to consider him her future 
 husband ; let her not be prejudiced against him ; let her fairly judge for 
 herself, when the time arrives." 
 
 " You see, my lord, " said Mr. Aubrey, as he took back the 
 letter, "that this letter bears the same date as your uncle's 
 will. What he desired has been done. Be just, my lord, be
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 227 
 
 just, and exonerate us all from blame : who can dictate to the 
 affections?" 
 
 " And I am to understand that I have no chance, now or 
 hereafter, of obtaining the affections of Evelyn? Surely, at 
 your age, Mr. Aubrey, you cannot encourage the heated 
 romance common to all girls of Evelyn's age. Persons of 
 our rank do not marry like the Corydon and Phyllis of a pas- 
 toral. At my years, I never was fool enough to expect that I 
 should inspire a girl of seventeen with what is called a pas- 
 sionate attachment. But happy marriages are based upon 
 suitable circumstances, mutual knowledge and indulgence, 
 respect, esteem. Come, sir, let me hope yet, let me hope 
 that, on the same day, I may congratulate you on your prefer- 
 ment and you may congratulate me upon my marriage." 
 
 Vargrave said this with a cheerful and easy smile ; and the 
 tone of his voice was that of a man who wished to convey 
 serious meaning in a jesting accent. 
 
 Mr. Aubrey, meek as he was, felt the insult of the hinted 
 bribe, and coloured with a resentment no sooner excited than 
 checked. " Excuse me, my lord, I have now said all ; the rest 
 had better be left to your ward herself." 
 
 " Be it so, sir. I will ask you, then, to convey my request 
 to Evelyn to honour me with a last and parting interview. " 
 
 Vargrave flung himself on his chair, and Aubrey left him. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THUS airy Strephon tuned his lyre. SHENSTONE. 
 
 IN his meeting with Evelyn, Vargrave certainly exerted to 
 the utmost all his ability and all his art. He felt that vio- 
 lence, that sarcasm, that selfish complaint would not avail in 
 a man who was not loved, though they are often admirable 
 cards in the hands of a man who is. As his own heart was
 
 228 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 perfectly untouched in the matter, except by rage and disap- 
 pointment, feelings which with him never lasted very long, 
 he could play coolly his losing game. His keen and ready 
 intellect taught him that all he could now expect was to be- 
 queath sentiments of generous compassion and friendly inter- 
 est; to create a favourable impression, which he might 
 hereafter improve; to reserve, in short, some spot of vantage- 
 ground in the country from which he was to affect to with- 
 draw all his forces. He had known, in his experience of 
 women, which, whether as an actor or a spectator, was large 
 and various though not among very delicate and refined 
 natures that a lady often takes a fancy to a suitor after she 
 has rejected him; that precisely because she has once rejected 
 she ultimately accepts him. And even this chance was, in 
 circumstances so desperate, not to be neglected. He assumed, 
 therefore, the countenance, the postures, and the voice of 
 heart-broken but submissive despair; he affected a nobleness 
 and magnanimity in his grief, which touched Evelyn to the 
 quick, and took her by surprise. 
 
 " It is enough," said he, in sad and faltering accents; "quite 
 enough for me to know that you cannot love me, that I 
 should fail in rendering you happy. Say no more, Evelyn, 
 say no more ! Let me spare you, at least, the pain your gen- 
 erous nature must feel in my anguish. I resign all preten- 
 sions to your hand ; you are free ! may you be happy ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lord Vargrave ! oh, Lumley ! " said Evelyn, weeping, 
 and moved by a thousand recollections of early years. "If I 
 could but prove in any other way my grateful sense of your 
 merits, your too partial appreciation of me, my regard for my 
 lost benefactor, then, indeed, nor till then, could I be happy. 
 Oh that this wealth, so little desired by me, had been more at 
 my disposal ! but as it is, the day that sees me in possession 
 of it, shall see it placed under your disposition, your control. 
 This is but justice, common justice to you; you were the 
 nearest relation of the departed. I had no claim on him, 
 none but affection. Affection ! and yet I disobey him ! " 
 
 There was much in all this that secretly pleased Vargrave ; 
 but it only seemed to redouble his grief.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 229 
 
 "Talk not thus, my ward, my friend ah, still my friend," 
 said he, putting his handkerchief to his eyes. "I repine not; 
 I am more than satisfied. Still let me preserve my privilege 
 of guardian, of adviser, a privilege dearer to me than all 
 the wealth of the Indies ! " 
 
 Lord Vargrave had some faint suspicion that Legard had 
 created an undue interest in Evelyn's heart; and on this point 
 he delicately and indirectly sought to sound her. Her replies 
 convinced him that if Evelyn had conceived any prepossession 
 for Legard, there had not been time or opportunity to ripen it 
 into deep attachment. Of Maltravers he had no fear. The 
 habitual self-control of that reserved personage deceived him 
 partly; and his low opinion of mankind deceived him still 
 more. For if there had been any love between Maltravers 
 and Evelyn, why should the former not have stood his ground, 
 and declared his suit? Lumley would have "bah'd" and 
 " pish'd " at the thought of any punctilious regard for engage- 
 ments so easily broken having power either to check passion 
 for beauty, or to restrain self-interest in the chase of an 
 heiress. He had known Maltravers ambitious; and with 
 him, ambition and self-interest meant the same. Thus, by 
 the very finesse of his character while Vargrave ever with 
 the worldly was a keen and almost infallible observer with 
 natures of a more refined, or a higher order, he always missed 
 the mark by overshooting. Besides, had a suspicion of Mal- 
 travers ever crossed him, Caroline's communications would 
 have dispelled it. It was more strange that Caroline should 
 have been blind; nor would she have been so had she been 
 less absorbed in her own schemes and destinies. All her usual 
 penetration had of late settled in self; and an uneasy feeling 
 half arising from conscientious reluctance to aid Vargrave's 
 objects, half from jealous irritation at the thought of Var- 
 grave's marrying another had prevented her from seeking 
 any very intimate or confidential communication with Evelyn 
 herself. 
 
 The dreaded conference was over; Evelyn parted from Var- 
 grave with the very feelings he had calculated on exciting, 
 the moment he ceased to be her lover, her old childish regard
 
 230 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 for him recommenced. She pitied his dejection, she respected 
 his generosity, she was deeply grateful for his forbearance. 
 But still still she was free-, and her heart bounded within 
 her at the thought. 
 
 Meanwhile, Vargrave, after his solemn farewell to Evelyn, 
 retreated again to his own room, where he remained till his 
 post-horses arrived. Then, descending into the drawing- 
 room, he was pleased to find neither Aubrey nor Evelyn 
 there. He knew that much affectation would be thrown 
 away upon Mr. and Mrs. Merton; he thanked them for their 
 hospitality, with grave and brief cordiality, and then turned 
 to Caroline, who stood apart by the window. 
 
 " All is up with me at present, " he whispered. " I leave 
 you, Caroline, in anticipation of fortune, rank, and prosperity; 
 that is some comfort. For myself, I see only difficulties, 
 embarrassment, and poverty in the future ; but I despond of 
 nothing. Hereafter you may serve me, as I have served 
 you. Adieu ! I have been advising Caroline not to spoil 
 Doltimore, Mrs. Merton; he is conceited enough already. 
 Good-by ! God bless you all ! love to your little girls. Let 
 me know if I can serve you in any way, Merton, good-by 
 again ! " And thus, sentence by sentence, Vargrave talked 
 himself into his carriage. As it drove by the drawing-room 
 windows, he saw Caroline standing motionless where he had 
 left her ; he kissed his hand, her eyes were fixed mourn- 
 fully on his. Hard, wayward, and worldly as Caroline Mer- 
 ton was, Vargrave was yet not worthy of the affection he had 
 inspired; for she could feel, and he could not, the distinc- 
 tion, perhaps, between the sexes. And there still stood Caro- 
 line Merton, recalling the last tones of that indifferent voice, 
 till she felt her hand seized, and turned round to see Lord 
 Doltimore, and smile upon the happy lover, persuaded that 
 he was adored!
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 Tlvp ffol fpoffolffta, Koii rb <rbv irpo<r/cetyo/ieu. EURIPIDES : Andromache, 214. 
 " I will bring fire to thee I reck not of the place." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 . . . THIS ancient city, 
 
 How wanton sits she amidst Nature's smiles ! 
 
 . . . Various nations meet, 
 
 As in the sea, yet not confined in space, 
 
 But streaming freely through the spacious streets. YOUNG. 
 
 . . . His teeth he still did grind, 
 
 And grimly gnash, threatening revenge in vain. SPENSER. 
 
 "PARIS is a delightful place, that is allowed by all. It 
 is delightful to the young, to the gay, to the idle ; to the lit- 
 erary lion, who likes to be petted; to the wiser epicure, who 
 indulges a more justifiable appetite. It is delightful to ladies, 
 who wish to live at their ease, and buy beautiful caps; de- 
 lightful to philanthropists, who wish for listeners to schemes 
 of colonizing the moon; delightful to the haunters of balls 
 and ballets, and little theatres and superb cafes, where men 
 with beards of all sizes and shapes scowl at the English, and 
 involve their intellects in the fascinating game of dominos. 
 For these, and for many others, Paris is delightful. I say 
 nothing against it. But, for my own part, I would rather 
 live in a garret in London than in a palace in the Chaussee 
 d'Antin. 'Chacun k son mauvais gout.' 
 
 " I don't like the streets, in which I cannot walk but in the 
 kennel; I don't like the shops, that contain nothing except
 
 232 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 what's at the window; I don't like the houses, like prisons 
 which look upon a courtyard; I don't like the beaux jardins, 
 which grow no plants save a Cupid in plaster; I don't like 
 the wood fires, which demand as many petits soins as the 
 women, and which warm no part of one but one's eyelids, I 
 don't like the language, with its strong phrases about nothing, 
 and vibrating like a pendulum between ' rapture ' and ' deso- 
 lation; ' I don't like the accent, which one cannot get, with- 
 out speaking through one's nose; I don't like the eternal fuss 
 and jabber about books without nature, and revolutions with- 
 out fruit ; I have no sympathy with tales that turn on a dead 
 jackass, nor with constitutions that give the ballot to the rep- 
 resentatives, and withhold the suffrage from the people; 
 neither have I much faith in that enthusiasm for the beaux 
 arts, which shows its produce in execrable music, detestable 
 pictures, abominable sculpture, and a droll something that T 
 believe the French call POETRY. Dancing and cookery, 
 these are the arts the French excel in, I grant it; and excel- 
 lent things they are; but oh, England! oh, Germany! you 
 need not be jealous of your rival ! " 
 
 These are not the author's remarks, he disowns them,- 
 they were Mr. Cleveland's. He was a prejudiced man; Mal- 
 travers was more liberal, but then Maltravers did not pretend 
 to be a wit. 
 
 Maltravers had been several weeks in the city of cities, and 
 now he had his apartments in the gloomy but interesting Fau- 
 bourg St. Germain, all to himself. For Cleveland, having 
 attended eight days at a sale, and having moreover ransacked 
 all the curiosity shops, and shipped off bronzes and cabinets, 
 and Genoese silks and objets de vertu, enough to have half 
 furnished Fonthill, had fulfilled his mission, and returned to 
 his villa. Before the old gentleman went, he flattered him- 
 self that change of air and scene had already been serviceable 
 to his friend ; and that time would work a complete cure upon 
 that commonest of all maladies, an unrequited passion, or 
 an ill-placed caprice. 
 
 Maltravers, indeed, in the habit of conquering, as well as 
 of concealing emotion, vigorously and earnestly strove to de-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 233 
 
 throne the image that had usurped his heart. Still vain of 
 his self-command, and still worshipping his favourite virtue 
 of Fortitude and his delusive philosophy of the calm Golden 
 Mean, he would not weakly indulge the passion, while he so 
 sternly fled from its object. 
 
 But yet the image of Evelyn pursued, it haunted him; it 
 came on him unawares, in solitude, in crowds. That smile 
 so cheering, yet so soft, that ever had power to chase away 
 the shadow from his soul; that youthful and luxurious bloom 
 of pure and eloquent thoughts, which was as the blossom of 
 genius before its fruit, bitter as well as sweet, is born ; that 
 rare union of quick feeling and serene temper, which forms 
 the very ideal of what we dream of in the mistress, and ex- 
 act from the wife, all, even more, far more, than the exqui- 
 site form and the delicate graces of the less durable beauty, 
 returned to him, after every struggle with himself; and time 
 only seemed to grave, in deeper if more latent folds of his 
 heart, the ineradicable impression. 
 
 Maltravers renewed his acquaintance with some persons not 
 unfamiliar to the reader. 
 
 Valerie de Ventadour how many recollections of the fairer 
 days of life were connected with that name! Precisely as she 
 had never reached to his love, but only excited his fancy (the 
 fancy of twenty-two), had her image always retained a pleas- 
 ant and grateful hue; it was blended with no deep sorrow, no 
 stern regret, no dark remorse, no haunting shame. 
 
 They met again. Madame de Ventadour was still beauti- 
 ful, and still admired, perhaps more admired than ever; for 
 to the great, fashion and celebrity bring a second and yet more 
 popular youth. But Maltravers, if rejoiced to see how gently 
 Time had dealt with the fair Frenchwoman, was yet more 
 pleased to read in her fine features a more serene and con- 
 tented expression than they had formerly worn. Valerie de 
 Ventadour had preceded her younger admirer through the 
 " MYSTERIES OP LIFE ; " she had learned the real objects of 
 being; she distinguished between the Actual and the Vision- 
 ary, the Shadow and the Substance ; she had acquired content 
 for the present, and looked with quiet hope towards the future.
 
 234 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Her character was still spotless; or rather, every year of temp- 
 tation and trial had given it a fairer lustre. Love, that might 
 have ruined, being once subdued, preserved her from all after 
 danger. The first meeting between Maltravers and Valerie 
 was, it is true, one of some embarrassment and reserve: not 
 so the second. They did but once, and that slightly, recur to 
 the past, and from that moment, as by a tacit understanding, 
 true friendship between them dated. Neither felt mortified 
 to see that an illusion had passed away, they were no longer 
 the same in each other's eyes. Both might be improved, and 
 were so; but the Valerie and the Ernest of Naples were as 
 things dead and gone! Perhaps Valerie's heart was even more 
 reconciled to the cure of its soft and luxurious malady by the 
 renewal of their acquaintance. The mature and experienced 
 reasoner, in whom enthusiasm had undergone its usual change, 
 with the calm brow and commanding aspect of sober manhood, 
 was a being so different from the romantic boy, new to the 
 actual world of civilized toils and pleasures, fresh from the 
 adventures of Eastern wanderings, and full of golden dreams 
 of poetry before it settles into authorship or action! She 
 missed the brilliant errors, the daring aspirations, even the 
 animated gestures and eager eloquence, that had interested 
 and enamoured her in the loiterer by the shores of Baiae, or 
 amidst the tomb-like chambers of Pompeii. For the Mal- 
 travers now before her wiser, better, nobler, even handsomer 
 than of yore (for he was one whom manhood became better 
 than youth) the Frenchwoman could at any period have felt 
 friendship without danger. It seemed to her, not as it really 
 was, the natural development, but the very contrast, of the 
 ardent, variable, imaginative boy, by whose side she had 
 gazed at night on the moonlit waters and rosy skies of the 
 soft Parthenope ! How does time, after long absence, bring 
 to us such contrasts between the one we remember and the 
 one we see ! And what a melancholy mockery does it seem of 
 our own vain hearts, dreaming of impressions never to be 
 changed, and affections that never can grow cool ! 
 
 And now, as they conversed with all the ease of cordial and 
 guileless friendship, how did Valerie rejoice in secret that
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 235 
 
 upon that friendship there rested no blot of shame! and that 
 she had not forfeited those consolations for a home without 
 love, which had at last settled into cheerful nor unhallowed 
 resignation, consolations only to be found in the conscience 
 and the pride ! 
 
 M. de Ventadour had not altered, except that his nose was 
 longer, and that he now wore a peruque in full curl instead of 
 his own straight hair. But somehow or other perhaps by 
 the mere charm of custom he had grown more pleasing in 
 Valerie's eyes; habit had reconciled her to his foibles, defi- 
 ciencies, and faults; and, by comparison with others, she could 
 better appreciate his good qualities, such as they were, gen- 
 erosity, good-temper, good-nature, and unbounded indulgence 
 to herself. Husband and wife have so many interests in com- 
 mon, that when they have jogged on through the ups and 
 downs of life a sufficient time, the leash which at first galled 
 often grows easy and familiar ; and unless the temper, or rather 
 the disposition and the heart, of either be insufferable, what 
 was once a grievous yoke becomes but a companionable tie. 
 And for the rest, Valerie, now that sentiment and fancy were 
 sobered down, could take pleasure in a thousand things which 
 her pining affections once, as it were, overlooked and over- 
 shot. She could feel grateful for all the advantages her sta- 
 tion and wealth procured her; she could cull the roses in her 
 reach, without sighing for the amaranths of Elysium. 
 
 If the great have more temptations than those of middle 
 life, and if their senses of enjoyment become more easily 
 pampered into a sickly apathy, so at least (if they can once 
 outlive satiety) they ha.ve many more resources at their com- 
 mand. There is a great deal of justice in the old line, dis- 
 pleasing though it be to those who think of love in a cottage, 
 "'Tis best repenting in a coach and six!" If among the 
 Eupatrids, the Well Born, there is less love in wedlock, less 
 quiet happiness at home, still they are less chained each to 
 each, they have more independence, both the woman and 
 the man, and occupations and the solace withoiit can be so 
 easily obtained ! Madame de Ventadour, in retiring from the 
 mere frivolities of society from crowded rooms, and the
 
 236 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 inane talk and hollow smiles of mere acquaintanceship be- 
 came more sensible of the pleasures that her refined and ele- 
 gant intellect could derive from art and talent, and the 
 communion of friendship. She drew around her the most 
 cultivated minds of her time and country. Her abilities, her 
 wit, and her conversational graces enabled her not only to 
 mix on equal terms with the most eminent, but to amalgamate 
 and blend the varieties of talent into harmony. The same 
 persons, when met elsewhere, seemed to have lost their charm ; 
 under Valerie's roof every one breathed a congenial atmos- 
 phere. And music and letters, and all that can refine and 
 embellish civilized life, contributed their resources to this 
 gifted and beautiful woman. And thus she found that the 
 mind has excitement and occupation, as well as the heart; 
 and, unlike the latter, the culture we bestow upon the first 
 ever yields us its return. We talk of education for the poor, 
 but we forget how much it is needed by the rich. Valerie was 
 a living instance of the advantages to women of knowledge 
 and intellectual resources. By them she had purified her 
 fancy, by them she had conquered discontent, by them she 
 had grown reconciled to life and to her lot! When the heavy 
 heart weighed down the one scale, it was the mind that re- 
 stored the balance. 
 
 The spells of Madame de Ventadour drew Maltravers into 
 this charmed circle of all that was highest, purest, and most 
 gifted in the society of Paris. There he did not meet, as 
 were met in the times of the old regime, sparkling abbs 
 intent upon intrigues ; or amorous old dowagers, eloquent on 
 Rousseau; or powdered courtiers, uttering epigrams against 
 kings and religions, straws that foretold the whirlwind. 
 Paul Courier was right! Frenchmen are Frenchmen still; 
 they are full of fine phrases, and their thoughts smell of the 
 theatre; they mistake foil for diamonds, the Grotesque for 
 the Natural, the Exaggerated for the Sublime: but still I 
 say, Paul Courier was right, there is more honesty now in 
 a single salon in Paris than there was in all France in the 
 days of Voltaire. Vast interests and solemn causes are no 
 longer tossed about like shuttlecocks on the battledores of
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 237 
 
 empty tongues. In the bouleversement of He volutions the 
 French have fallen on their feet! 
 
 Meeting men of all parties and all classes, Maltravers was 
 struck with the heightened tone of public morals, the earnest 
 sincerity of feeling which generally pervaded all, as compared 
 with his first recollections of the Parisians. He saw that 
 true elements for national wisdom were at work, though he 
 saw also that there was no country in which their operations 
 would be more liable to disorder, more slow and irregular in 
 their results. The French are like the Israelites in the Wil- 
 derness, when, according to a Hebrew tradition, every morning 
 they seemed on the verge of Pisgah, and every evening they 
 were as far from it as ever. But still time rolls on, the pil- 
 grimage draws to its close, and the Canaan must come at last ! 
 
 At Valerie's house, Maltravers once more met the De Mon- 
 taignes. It was a painful meeting, for they thought of 
 Cesarini when they met. 
 
 It is now time to return to that unhappy man. Cesarini 
 had been removed from England when Maltravers quitted it 
 after Lady Florence's death; and Maltravers had thought it 
 best to acquaint De Montaigne with all the circumstances 
 that had led to his affliction. The pride and the honour of 
 the high-spirited Frenchman were deeply shocked by the tale 
 of fraud and guilt, softened as it was ; but the sight of the 
 criminal, his awful punishment, merged every other feeling 
 in compassion. Placed under the care of the most skilful 
 practitioners in Paris, great hopes of Cesarini 's recovery had 
 been at first entertained. Nor was it long, indeed, before he 
 appeared entirely restored, so far as the external and superfi- 
 cial tokens of sanity could indicate a cure. He testified com- 
 plete consciousness of the kindness of his relations, and clear 
 remembrance of the past: but to the incoherent ravings of 
 delirium, an intense melancholy, still more deplorable, suc- 
 ceeded. In this state, however, he became once more the 
 inmate of his brother-in-law's house; and though avoiding all 
 society, except that of Teresa, whose affectionate nature never 
 wearied of its cares, he resumed many of his old occupations. 
 Again he appeared to take delight in desultory and unprofit-
 
 238 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 able studies, and in the cultivation of that luxury of solitary 
 men, "the thankless muse." By shunning all topics con- 
 nected with the gloomy cause of his affliction, and talking 
 rather of the sweet recollections of Italy and childhood than 
 of more recent events, his sister was enabled to soothe the 
 dark hour, and preserve some kind of influence over the ill- 
 fated man. One day, however, there fell into his hands an 
 English newspaper, which was full of the praises of Lord 
 Vargrave ; and the article in lauding the peer referred to his 
 services as the commoner Lumley Ferrers. 
 
 This incident, slight as it appeared, and perfectly untrace- 
 able by his relations, produced a visible effect on Cesarini; 
 and three days afterwards he attempted his own life. The 
 failure of the attempt was followed by the fiercest paroxysms. 
 His disease returned in all its dread force: and it became 
 necessary to place him under yet stricter confinement than he 
 had endured before. Again, about a year from the date now 
 entered upon, he had appeared to recover; and again he was 
 removed to De Montaigne's house. His relations were not 
 aware of the influence which Lord Vargrave's name exercised 
 over Cesarini; in the melancholy tale communicated to them 
 by Maltravers, that name had not been mentioned. If Mal- 
 travers had at one time entertained some vague suspicions that 
 Lumley had acted a treacherous part with regard to Florence, 
 those suspicions had long since died away for want of con- 
 firmation; nor did he (nor did therefore the De Montaignes) 
 connect Lord Vargrave with the affliction of Cesarini. De 
 Montaigne himself, therefore, one day at dinner, alluding to 
 a question of foreign politics which had been debated that 
 morning in the Chamber, and in which he himself had taken 
 an active part, happened to refer to a speech of Vargrave upon 
 the subject, which had made some sensation abroad, as well as 
 at home. Teresa asked innocently who Lord Vargrave was ; 
 and De Montaigne, well acquainted with the biography of 
 the principal English statesmen, replied that he had com- 
 menced his career as Mr. Ferrers, and reminded Teresa that 
 they had once been introduced to him in Paris. Cesarini sud- 
 denly rose and left the room; his absence was not noted, for
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 239 
 
 his comings and goings were ever strange and fitful. Teresa 
 soon afterwards quitted the apartment with her children, and 
 De Montaigne, who was rather fatigued by the exertions and 
 excitement of the morning, stretched himself in his chair to 
 enjoy a short siesta. He was suddenly awakened by a feel- 
 ing of pain and suffocation, awakened in time to struggle 
 against a strong gripe that had fastened itself at his throat. 
 The room was darkened in the growing shades of the evening; 
 and, but for the glittering and savage eyes that were fixed on 
 him, he could scarcely discern his assailant. He at length 
 succeeded, however, in freeing himself, and casting the in- 
 tended assassin on the ground. He shouted for assistance; 
 and the lights borne by the servants who rushed into the room 
 revealed to him the face of his brother-in-law. Cesarini, 
 though in strong convulsions, still uttered cries and impreca- 
 tions of revenge ; he denounced De Montaigne as a traitor and 
 a murderer ! In the dark confusion of his mind, he had mis- 
 taken the guardian for the distant foe, whose name sufficed to 
 conjure up the phantoms of the dead, and plunge reason into 
 fury. 
 
 It was now clear that there was danger and death in Cesar- 
 ini's disease. His madness was pronounced to be capable of 
 no certain and permanent cure ; he was placed at a new asy- 
 lum (the superintendents of which were celebrated for human- 
 ity as well as skill), a little distance from Versailles, and 
 there he still remained. Recently his lucid intervals had 
 become more frequent and prolonged ; but trifles that sprang 
 from his own mind, and which no care could prevent or de- 
 tect, sufficed to renew his calamity in all its fierceness. At 
 such times he required the most unrelaxing vigilance, for his 
 madness ever took an alarming and ferocious character; and 
 had he been left unshackled, the boldest and stoutest of the 
 keepers would have dreaded to enter his cell unarmed, or 
 alone. 
 
 What made the disease of the mind appear more melancholy 
 and confirmed was, that all this time the frame seemed to 
 increase in health and strength. This is not an uncommon 
 case in instances of mania and it is generally the worst
 
 240 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 symptom. In earlier youth, Cesarim had been delicate even 
 to effeminacy; but now his proportions were enlarged, his 
 form, though still lean and spare, muscular and vigorous, 
 as if in the torpor which usually succeeded to his bursts of 
 frenzy, the animal portion gained by the repose or disorgani- 
 zation of the intellectual. When in his better and calmer 
 mood in which indeed none but the experienced could have 
 detected his malady books made his chief delight. But 
 then he complained bitterly, if briefly, of the confinement he 
 endured, of the injustice he suffered; and as, shunning all 
 companions, he walked gloomily amidst the grounds that sur- 
 rounded that House of Woe, his unseen guardians beheld him 
 clenching his hands, as at some visionary enemy, or overheard 
 him accuse some phantom of his brain of the torments he 
 endured. 
 
 Though the reader can detect in Lumley Ferrers the cause 
 of the frenzy, and the object of the imprecation, it was not so 
 with the De Montaignes, nor with the patient's keepers and 
 physicians; for in his delirium he seldom or never gave name 
 to the shadows that he invoked, not even to that of Flor- 
 ence. It is, indeed, no unusual characteristic of madness to 
 shun, as by a kind of cunning, all mention of the names of 
 those by whom the madness has been caused. It is as if the 
 unfortunates imagined that the madness might be undiscov- 
 ered if the images connected with it were unbetrayed. 
 
 Such, at this time, was the wretched state of the man, 
 whose talents had promised a fair and honourable career, 
 had it not been the wretched tendency of his mind, from boy- 
 hood upward, to pamper every unwholesome and unhallowed 
 feeling as a token of the exuberance of genius. De Mon- 
 taigne, though he touched as lightly as possible upon this 
 dark domestic calamity in his first communications with Mal- 
 travers, whose conduct in that melancholy tale of crime and 
 woe had, he conceived, been stamped with generosity and 
 feeling, still betrayed emotions that told how much his peace 
 had been embittered. 
 
 " I seek to console Teresa, " said he, turning away his manly 
 head, " and to point out all the blessings yet left to her ; but
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 241 
 
 that brother so beloved, from whom so much was so vainly 
 expected, still ever and ever, though she strives to conceal 
 it from me, this affliction comes back to her, and poisons 
 every thought! Oh, better a thousand times that he had 
 died! When reason, sense, almost the soul, are dead, how 
 dark and fiend-like is the life that remains behind! And if 
 it should be in the blood if Teresa's children dreadful 
 thought!" 
 
 De Montaigne ceased, thoroughly overcome. 
 
 " Do not, my dear friend, so fearfully exaggerate your mis- 
 fortune, great as it is ; Cesarini's disease evidently arose from 
 no physical conformation, it was but the crisis, the develop- 
 ment, of a long-contracted malady of mind, passions morbidly 
 indulged, the reasoning faculty obstinately neglected; and yet 
 too he may recover. The further memory recedes from the 
 shock he has sustained, the better the chance that his mind 
 will regain its tone." 
 
 De Montaigne wrung his friend's hand. 
 
 "It is strange that from you should come sympathy and 
 comfort ! you whom he so injured ; you whom his folly or 
 his crime drove from your proud career, and your native soil ! 
 But Providence will yet, I trust, redeem the evil of its erring 
 creature, and I shall yet live to see you restored to hope and 
 home, a happy husband, an honoured citizen. Till then, I 
 feel as if the curse lingered upon my race." 
 
 " Speak not thus. Whatever my destiny, I have recovered 
 from that wound; and still, De Montaigne, I find in life that 
 suffering succeeds to suffering, and disappointment to disap- 
 pointment, as wave to wave. To endure is the only philoso- 
 phy; to believe that we shall live again in a brighter planet, 
 is the only hope that our reason should accept from our 
 desires." 
 
 16
 
 242 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MONSTRA evenerunt mihi : 
 Introit in aedes ater alienus canis, 
 Anguis per impluvium decidit de tegulis, 
 Gallina cecinit ! 1 TERENCE. 
 
 WITH his constitutional strength of mind, and conformably 
 with his acquired theories, Maltravers continued to struggle 
 against the latest and strongest passion of his life. It might 
 be seen in the paleness of his brow, and that nameless expres- 
 sion of suffering which betrays itself in the lines about the 
 mouth, that his health was affected by the conflict within 
 him ; and many a sudden fit of absence and abstraction, many 
 an impatient sigh, followed by a forced and unnatural gayety, 
 told the observant Valerie that he was the prey of a sorrow 
 he was too proud to disclose. He compelled himself, how- 
 ever, to take, or to affect, an interest in the singular phe- 
 nomena of the social state around him, phenomena that, in 
 a happier or serener mood, would indeed have suggested no 
 ordinary food for conjecture and meditation. 
 
 The state of visible transition is the state of nearly all the 
 enlightened communities in Europe. But nowhere is it so 
 pronounced as in that country which may be called the Heart 
 of European Civilization. There, all to which the spirit of 
 society attaches itself appears broken, vague, and half devel- 
 oped, the Antique in ruins, and the New not formed. It 
 is, perhaps, the only country in which the Constructive prin- 
 ciple has not kept pace with the Destructive. The Has Been 
 is blotted out; the To Be is as the shadow of a far land in a 
 mighty and perturbed sea. 2 
 
 1 " Prodigies have occurred : a strange black dog came into the house ; a 
 snake glided from the tiles, through the court ; the hen crowed." 
 
 2 The reader will remember that these remarks were written long before 
 the last French Revolution, and when the dynasty of Louis Philippe was gen- 
 erally considered most secure.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 243 
 
 Maltravers, who for several years had not examined the 
 progress of modern literature, looked with mingled feelings 
 of surprise, distaste, and occasional and most reluctant admi- 
 ration, on the various works which the successors of Voltaire 
 and Rousseau have produced, and are pleased to call the off- 
 spring of Truth united to Romance. 
 
 Profoundly versed in the mechanism and elements of those 
 masterpieces of Germany and England, from which the French 
 have borrowed so largely while pretending to be original, Mal- 
 travers was shocked to see the monsters which these Franken- 
 steins had created from the relics and the offal of the holiest 
 sepulchres. The head of a giant on the limbs of a dwarf, 
 incongruous members jumbled together, parts fair and beau- 
 tiful, the whole a hideous distortion ! 
 
 "It may be possible," said he to De Montaigne, "that these 
 works are admired and extolled ; but how they can be vindi- 
 cated by the examples of Shakspeare and Goethe, or even of 
 Byron, who redeemed poor and melodramatic conceptions with 
 a manly vigour of execution, an energy and completeness of 
 purpose, that Dryden himself never surpassed, is to me utterly 
 inconceivable." 
 
 "I allow that there is a strange mixture of fustian and 
 maudlin in all these things," answered De Montaigne; "but 
 they are but the windfalls of trees that may bear rich fruit 
 in due season; meanwhile, any new school is better than eter- 
 nal imitations of the old. As for critical vindications of the 
 works themselves, the age that produces the phenomena is 
 never the age to classify and analyze them. We have had a 
 deluge, and now new creatures spring from the new soil." 
 
 "An excellent simile: they come forth from slime and mud, 
 fetid and crawling, unformed and monstrous. I grant ex- 
 ceptions; and even in the New School, as it is called, I can 
 admire the real genius, the vital and creative power of Victor 
 Hugo. But oh, that a nation which has known a Corneille 
 
 should ever spawn forth a ! And with these rickety and 
 
 drivelling abortions all having followers and adulators 
 your Public can still bear to be told that they have improved 
 wonderfully on the day when they gave laws and models to
 
 244 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 the literature of Europe; they can bear to hear pro- 
 claimed a sublime genius in the same circles which sneer 
 down Voltaire ! " 
 
 Voltaire is out of fashion in France, but Rousseau still 
 maintains his influence, and boasts his imitators. Rousseau 
 was the worse man of the two; perhaps he was also the more 
 dangerous writer. But his reputation is more durable, and 
 sinks deeper into the heart of his nation ; and the danger of 
 his unstable and capricious doctrines has passed away. In 
 Voltaire we behold the fate of all writers purely destructive ; 
 their uses cease with the evils they denounce. But Rousseau 
 sought to construct as well as to destroy; and though nothing 
 could well be more absurd than his constructions, still man 
 loves to look back and see even delusive images castles in 
 the air reared above the waste where cities have been. 
 Rather than leave even a burial-ground to solitude, we popu- 
 late it with ghosts. 
 
 By degrees, however, as he mastered all the features of the 
 French literature, Maltravers become more tolerant of the 
 present defects, and more hopeful of the future results. He 
 saw in one respect that that literature carried with it its own 
 ultimate redemption. 
 
 Its general characteristic contradistinguished from the 
 literature of the old French classic school is to take the 
 heart for its study; to bring the passions and feelings into 
 action, and let the Within have its record and history as well 
 as the Without. In all this our contemplative analyst began 
 to allow that the French were not far wrong when they con- 
 tended that Shakspeare made the fountain of their inspira- 
 tion, a fountain which the majority of our later English 
 Fictionists have neglected. It is not by a story woven of 
 interesting incidents, relieved by delineations of the exter- 
 nals and surface of character, humorous phraseology, and 
 every-day ethics, that Fiction achieves its grandest ends. 
 
 In the French literature, thus characterized, there is much 
 false morality, much depraved sentiment, and much hollow 
 rant; but still it carries within it the germ of an excellence, 
 which, sooner or later, must in the progress of national genius
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 245 
 
 arrive at its full development. Meanwhile, it is a consola- 
 tion to know that nothing really immoral is ever permanently 
 popular, or ever, therefore, long deleterious; what is danger- 
 ous in a work of genius cures itself in a few years. We can 
 now read " Werther," and instruct our hearts by its exposition 
 of weakness and passion, our taste by its exquisite and unri- 
 valled simplicity of construction and detail, without any fear 
 that we shall shoot ourselves in top-boots ! We can feel our- 
 selves elevated by the noble sentiments of "The Robbers," and 
 our penetration sharpened as to the wholesale immorality of 
 conventional cant and hypocrisy, without any danger of turn- 
 ing banditti and becoming cutthroats from the love of virtue. 
 Providence, that has made the genius of the few in all times 
 and countries the guide and prophet of the many, and appointed 
 Literature as the sublime agent of Civilization, of Opinion, and 
 of Law, has endowed the elements it employs with a divine 
 power of self-purification. The stream settles of itself by 
 rest and time; the impure particles fly off, or are neutralized 
 by the healthful. It is only fools that call the works of a 
 master-spirit immoral. There does not exist in the literature 
 of the world one popular book that is immoral two centuries 
 after it is produced. For, in the heart of nations, the False 
 does not live so long; and the True is the Ethical to the end 
 of time. 
 
 From the literary Maltravers turned to the political state 
 of France his curious and thoughtful eye. He was struck by 
 the resemblance which this nation so civilized, so thor- 
 oughly European bears in one respect to the despotisms of 
 the East: the convulsions of the capital decide the fate of the 
 country; Paris is the tyrant of France. He saw in this in- 
 flammable concentration of power, which must ever be preg- 
 nant with great evils, one of the causes why the revolutions of 
 that powerful and polished people are so incomplete and un- 
 satisfactory, why, like Cardinal Fleury, system after system, 
 and Government after Government 
 
 . . . " floruit sine f rnctn, 
 Defloruit sine luctu." 1 
 
 1 " Flourished without fruit, and was destroyed without regret."
 
 246 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Maltravers regarded it as a singular instance of perverse 
 ratiocination, that, unwarned by experience, the French should 
 still persist in perpetuating this political vice; that all their 
 policy should still be the policy of Centralization, a princi- 
 ple which secures the momentary strength, but ever ends in 
 the abrupt destruction of States. It is, in fact, the perilous 
 tonic, which seems to brace the system, but drives the blood 
 to the head, thus come apoplexy and madness. By central- 
 ization the provinces are weakened, it is true, but weak to 
 assist as well as to oppose a government, weak to withstand 
 a mob. Nowhere, nowadays, is a mob so powerful as in 
 Paris : the political history of Paris is the history of mobs. 
 Centralization is an excellent quackery for a despot who 
 desires power to last only his own life, and who has but a 
 life-interest in the State; but to true liberty and permanent 
 order centralization is a deadly poison. The more the prov- 
 inces govern their own affairs, the more we find everything, 
 even to roads and post-horses, are left to the people; the 
 more the Municipal Spirit pervades every vein of the vast 
 body, the more certain may we be that reform and change 
 must come from universal opinion, which is slow, and con- 
 structs ere it destroys, not from public clamour, which is 
 sudden, and not only pulls down the edifice but sells the 
 bricks ! 
 
 Another peculiarity in the French Constitution struck and 
 perplexed Maltravers. This people so pervaded by the repub- 
 lican sentiment; this people, who had sacrificed so much for 
 Freedom ; this people, who, in the name of Freedom, had per- 
 petrated so much crime with Robespierre, and achieved so 
 much glory with Napoleon, this people were, as a people, 
 contented to be utterly excluded from all power and voice in 
 the State! Out of thirt} T -three millions of subjects, less than 
 two hundred thousand electors! Where was there ever an 
 oligarchy equal to this? What a strange infatuation, to 
 demolish an aristocracy and yet to exclude a people ! What 
 an anomaly in political architecture, to build an inverted 
 pyramid ! Where was the safety-valve of governments, where 
 the natural vents of excitement in a population so inflamma-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 247 
 
 ble? The people itself were left a mob, no stake in the 
 State, no action in its affairs, no legislative interest in its 
 security. 1 
 
 On the other hand, it was singular to see how the aris- 
 tocracy of birth broken down the aristocracy of letters had 
 arisen. A Peerage, half composed of journalists, philoso- 
 phers, and authors! This was the beau-ideal of Algernon 
 Sidney's Aristocratic Republic, of the Helvetian vision of 
 what ought to be the dispensation of public distinctions; yet 
 was it, after all, a desirable aristocracy? Did society gain; 
 did literature lose? Was the priesthood of Genius made more 
 sacred and more pure by these worldly decorations and hollow 
 titles ; or was aristocracy itself thus rendered a more disinter- 
 ested, a more powerful, or a more sagacious element in the 
 administration of law, or the elevation of opinion? These 
 questions, not lightly to be answered, could not fail to arouse 
 the speculation and curiosity of a man who had been familiar 
 with the closet and the forum; and in proportion as he found 
 his interest excited in these problems to be solved by a for- 
 eign nation, did the thoughtful Englishman feel the old 
 instinct which binds the citizen to the fatherland begin 
 to stir once more earnestly and vividly within him. 
 
 "You, yourself individually, are passing like us," said De 
 Montaigne one day to Maltravers, " through a state of transi- 
 tion. You have forever left the Ideal, and you are carrying 
 your cargo of experience over to the Practical. When you 
 reach that haven, you will have completed the development 
 of your forces." 
 
 "You mistake me, I am but a spectator." 
 
 "Yes; but you desire to go behind the scenes; and he who 
 once grows familiar with the green-room, longs to be an 
 actor. " 
 
 With Madame de Ventadour and the De Montaignes Mal- 
 travers passed the chief part of his time. They knew how to 
 appreciate his nobler and to love his gentler attributes and 
 qualities; they united in a warm interest for his future fate; 
 they combated his Philosophy of Inaction; and they felt that 
 1 Has not all this proved prophetic 1
 
 248 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 it was because lie was not happy that he was not wise. Ex- 
 perience was to him what ignorance had been to Alice. His 
 faculties were chilled and dormant. As affection to those who 
 are unskilled in all things, so is affection to those who despair 
 of all things. The mind of Maltravers was a world without 
 a sun! 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 C<ELEBS, quid again ? J HORACE. 
 
 IN a room at Fenton's Hotel sat Lord Vargrave and Caroline 
 Lady Doltimore, two months after the marriage of the 
 latter. 
 
 "Doltimore has positively fixed, then, to go abroad on your 
 return from Cornwall?" 
 
 "Positively, to Paris. You can join us at Christmas, I 
 trust?" 
 
 " I have no doubt of it ; and before then I hope that I shall 
 have arranged certain public matters, which at present harass 
 and absorb me even more than my private affairs." 
 
 " You have managed to obtain terms with Mr. Douce, and 
 to delay the repayment of your debt to him?" 
 
 "Yes, I hope so, till I touch Miss Cameron's income; which 
 will be mine, I trust, by the time she is eighteen." 
 
 "You mean the forfeit money of thirty thousand pounds?" 
 
 " Not I ; I mean what I said ! " 
 
 "Can you really imagine she will still accept your hand?" 
 
 "With your aid, I do imagine it! Hear me. You must 
 take Evelyn with you to Paris. I have no doubt but that she 
 will be delighted to accompany you ; nay, I have paved the 
 way so far. For, of course, as a friend of the family, and 
 guardian to Evelyn, I have maintained a correspondence with 
 Lady Vargrave. She informs me that Evelyn has been unwell 
 
 i " What shall I do, a bachelor ? "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 249 
 
 and low-spirited; that she fears Brook-Green is dull for her, 
 etc. I wrote, in reply, to say that the more my ward saw of 
 the world, prior to her accession, when of age, to the position 
 she would occupy in it, the more she would fulfil my late 
 uncle's wishes with respect to her education and so forth. I 
 added that as you were going to Paris, and as you loved her 
 so much, there could not be a better opportunity for her en- 
 trance into life under the most favourable auspices. Lady 
 Vargrave's answer to this letter arrived this morning: she 
 will consent to such an arrangement should you propose it." 
 
 "But what good will result to yourself in this project? At 
 Paris you will be sure of rivals, and " 
 
 "Caroline," interrupted Lord Vargrave, "I know very well 
 what you would say : I also know all the danger I must incur. 
 But it is a choice of evils, and I choose the least. You see 
 that while she is at Brook-Green, and under the eye of that 
 sly old curate, I can effect nothing with her. There, she is 
 entirely removed from my influence: not so abroad; not so 
 under your roof. Listen to me still further. In this country, 
 and especially in the seclusion and shelter of Brook-Green, I 
 have no scope for any of those means which I shall be com- 
 pelled to resort to, in failure of all else." 
 
 "What can you intend?" said Caroline, with a slight 
 shudder. 
 
 "I don't know what I intend yet. But this, at least, I can 
 tell you, that Miss Cameron's fortune I must and will have. 
 I am a desperate man; and I can play a desperate game, if 
 need be." 
 
 "And do you think that / will aid, will abet?" 
 
 " Hush, not so loud ! Yes, Caroline, you will, and you must 
 aid and abet me in any project I may form." 
 
 "Must! Lord Vargrave?" 
 
 "Ay," said Lumley, with a smile, and sinking his voice into 
 a whisper, " ay ! you are in my power ! " 
 
 " Traitor ! you cannot dare ! you cannot mean " 
 
 " I mean nothing more than to remind you of the ties that 
 exist between us, ties which ought to render us the firmest 
 and most confidential of friends. Come, Caroline, recollect
 
 250 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 all the benefit must not lie on one side. I have obtained for 
 you rank and wealth ; I have procured you a husband, you 
 must help me to a wife ! " 
 
 Caroline sank back, and covered her face with her hands. 
 
 "I allow," continued Vargrave, coldly, "I allow that your 
 beauty and talent were sufficient of themselves to charm a 
 wiser man than Doltimore; but had I not suppressed jeal- 
 ousy, sacrificed love, had I dropped a hint to your liege lord, 
 nay, had I not fed his lap-dog vanity by all the cream and 
 sugar of flattering falsehoods, you would be Caroline Mer- 
 ton still!" 
 
 " Oh, would that I were ! Oh that I were anything but your 
 tool, your victim ! Fool that I was ! wretch that I am ! I am 
 rightly punished! " 
 
 "Forgive me, forgive me, dearest," said Vargrave, sooth- 
 ingly; "I was to blame, forgive me: but you irritated, you 
 maddened me, by your seeming indifference to my prosperity, 
 my fate. I tell you again and again, pride of my soul, I tell 
 you, that you are the only being I love ! and if you will allow 
 me, if you will rise superior, as I once fondly hoped, to all 
 the cant and prejudice of convention and education, the only 
 woman I could ever respect, as well as love. Oh, hereafter, 
 when you see me at that height to which I feel that I am 
 born to climb, let me think that to your generosity, your 
 affection, your zeal, I owed the ascent. At present I am on 
 the precipice ; without your hand I fall forever. My own for- 
 tune is gone ; the miserable forfeit due to me, if Evelyn con- 
 tinues to reject my suit, when she has arrived at the age of 
 eighteen, is deeply mortgaged. I am engaged in vast and 
 daring schemes, in which I may either rise to the highest sta- 
 tion or lose that which I now hold. In either case, how neces- 
 sary to me is wealth: in the one instance, to maintain my 
 advancement; in the other, to redeem my fall." 
 
 "But did you not tell me," said Caroline, "that Evelyn 
 proposed and promised to place her fortune at your disposal, 
 even while rejecting your hand?" 
 
 "Absurd mockery!" exclaimed Vargrave; "the foolish 
 boast of a girl, an impulse liable to every caprice. Can
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 251 
 
 you suppose that when she launches into the extravagance 
 natural to her age and necessary to her position, she will not 
 find a thousand demands upon her rent-roll not dreamed of 
 now ; a thousand vanities and baubles that will soon erase my 
 poor and hollow claim from her recollection? Can you sup- 
 pose that, if she marry another, her husband will ever con- 
 sent to a child's romance? And even were all this possible, 
 were it possible that girls were not extravagant, and that 
 husbands had no common- sense, is it for me, Lord Vargrave, 
 to be a mendicant upon reluctant bounty, a poor cousin, a 
 pensioned led-captain? Heaven knows I have as little false 
 pride as any man, but still this is a degradation I cannot 
 stoop to. Besides, Caroline, I am no miser, no Harpagon: I 
 do not want wealth for wealth's sake, but for the advantages 
 it bestows, respect, honour, position; and these I get as the 
 husband of the great heiress. Should I get them as her 
 dependant? No: for more than six years I have built my 
 schemes and shaped my conduct according to one assured and 
 definite object; and that object I shall not now, at the 
 eleventh hour, let slip from my hands. Enough of this : 
 you will pass Brook-Green in returning from Cornwall ; you 
 will take Evelyn with you to Paris, leave the rest to me. 
 Fear no folly, no violence, from my plans, whatever they may 
 be : I work in the dark. Nor do I despair that Evelyn will 
 love, that Evelyn will voluntarily accept me yet : my disposi- 
 tion is sanguine ; I look to the bright side of things ; do the 
 same! " 
 
 Here their conference was interrupted by Lord Doltimore, 
 who lounged carelessly into the room, with his hat on one 
 side. "Ah, Vargrave, how are you? You will not forget the 
 letters of introduction? Where are you going, Caroline?" 
 
 " Only to my own room, to put on my bonnet ; the carriage 
 will be here in a few minutes." And Caroline escaped. 
 
 "So you go to Cornwall to-morrow, Doltimore?" 
 
 "Yes; cursed bore! but Lady Elizabeth insists on seeing 
 us, and I don't object to a week's good shooting. The old 
 lady, too, has something to leave, and Caroline had no dowry, 
 not that I care for it; but still marriage is expensive."
 
 252 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "By the by, you will want the five thousand pounds you 
 lent me?" 
 
 "Why, whenever it is convenient." 
 
 " Say no more, it shall be seen to. Doltimore, I am very 
 anxious that Lady Doltimore's debut at Paris should be bril- 
 liant : everything depends on falling into the right set. For 
 myself, I don't care about fashion, and never did; but if 
 I were married, and an idle man like you, it might be 
 different." 
 
 "Oh, you will be very useful to us when we return to 
 London. Meanwhile, you know, you have my proxy in the 
 Lords. I dare say there will be some sharp work the first 
 week or two after the recess." 
 
 "Very likely; and depend on one thing, my dear Doltimore, 
 that when I am in the Cabinet, a certain friend of mine shall 
 be an earl. Adieu." 
 
 "Good-by, my dear Vargrave, good-by; and, I say, I say, 
 don't distress yourself about that trifle ; a few months hence 
 it will suit me just as well." 
 
 " Thanks. I will just look into my accounts, and use you 
 without ceremony. Well, I dare say we shall meet at Paris. 
 Oh, I forgot, I observe that you have renewed your intimacy 
 with Legard. Now, he is a very good fellow, and I gave him 
 that place to oblige you; still, as you are no longer a gargon 
 but perhaps I shall offend you?" 
 
 "Not at all. What is there against Legard?" 
 
 " Nothing in the world, but he is a bit of a boaster. I 
 dare say his ancestor was a Gascon, poor fellow! and he 
 affects to say that you can't choose a coat, or buy a horse, 
 without his approval and advice, that he can turn you round 
 his finger. Now this hurts your consequence in the world, 
 you don't get credit for your own excellent sense and taste. 
 Take my advice, avoid these young hangers-on of fashion, 
 these club-room lions. Having no importance of their own, 
 they steal the importance of their friends. Verbum sap." 
 
 " You are very right, Legard is a coxcomb ; and now I see 
 why he talked of joining us at Paris." 
 
 "Don't let him do any such thing! He will be telling
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 253 
 
 the Frenchmen that her ladyship is in love with him, ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 "Ha, ha! a very good joke poor Caroline! very 
 good joke ! " 
 
 "Well, good-by, once more." And Vargrave closed the 
 door. 
 
 " Legard go to Paris not if Evelyn goes there ! " muttered 
 Lumley. "Besides, I want no partner in the little that one 
 can screw out of this blockhead." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. BCMBLECASE, a word with you I have a little business. 
 Farewell, the goodly Manor of Blackacre, with all its woods, underwoods, 
 and appurtenances whatever. WYCHERLEY : Plain Dealer. 
 
 IN quitting Fenton's Hotel, Lord Vargrave entered into one 
 of the clubs in St. James's Street: this was rather unusual 
 with him, for he, was not a club man. It was not his system 
 to spend his time for nothing. But it was a wet December 
 day; the House was not yet assembled, and he had done his 
 official business. Here, as he was munching a biscuit and 
 reading an article in one of the ministerial papers the heads 
 of which he himself had supplied Lord Saxingham joined 
 and drew him to the window. 
 
 "I have reason to think," said the earl, "that your visit to 
 Windsor did good." 
 
 "Ah, indeed; so I fancied." 
 
 " I do not think that a certain personage will ever consent to 
 
 the question ; and the premier, whom I saw to-day, seems 
 
 chafed and irritated." 
 
 "Nothing can be better; I know that we are in the right 
 boat."
 
 254 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 '"I hope it is not true, Lumley, that your marriage with 
 Miss Cameron is broken off; such was the on dit in the club, 
 just before you entered." 
 
 " Contradict it, my dear lord, contradict it. I hope by 
 the spring to introduce Lady Vargrave to you. But who 
 broached the absurd report?" 
 
 "Why, your protege, Legard, says he heard so from his 
 uncle, who heard it from Sir John Merton." 
 
 "Legard is a puppy, and Sir John Merton a jackass. 
 Legard had better attend to his office, if he wants to get on ; 
 and I wish you 'd tell him so. I have heard somewhere that 
 he talks of going to Paris, you can just hint to him that he 
 must give up such idle habits. Public functionaries are not 
 now what they were, people are expected to work for the 
 money they pocket; otherwise Legard is a cleverish fellow, 
 and deserves promotion. A word or two of caution from you 
 will do him a vast deal of good. " 
 
 "Be sure I will lecture him. Will you dine with me 
 to-day, Lumley?" 
 
 "No. I expect my co-trustee, Mr. Douce, on matters of 
 business, a tete-a-tete dinner." 
 
 Lord Vargrave had, as he conceived, very cleverly talked 
 over Mr. Douce into letting his debt to that gentleman run 
 on for the present; and in the meanwhile, he had over- 
 whelmed Mr. Douce with his condescensions. That gentle- 
 man had twice dined with Lord Vargrave, and Lord Vargrave 
 had twice dined with him. The occasion of the present more 
 familiar entertainment was in a letter from Mr. Douce, beg- 
 ging to see Lord Vargrave on particular business; and Var- 
 grave, who by no means liked the word business from a 
 gentleman to whom he owed money, thought that it would 
 go off more smoothly if sprinkled with champagne. 
 
 Accordingly, he begged " My dear Mr. Douce " to excuse 
 ceremony, and dine with him on Thursday at seven o'clock, 
 he was really so busy all the mornings. 
 
 At seven o'clock, Mr. Douce came. The moment he 
 entered Vargrave called out, at the top of his voice, "Din- 
 ner immediately ! " And as the little man bowed and shuffled,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 255 
 
 and fidgeted and wriggled (while Vargrave shook him by the 
 hand), as if he thought he was going himself to be spitted, 
 his host said, "With your leave, we'll postpone the budget 
 till after dinner. It is the fashion nowadays to postpone 
 budgets as long as we can, eh? Well, and how are all at 
 home? Devilish cold; is it not? So you go to your villa 
 everyday? That's what keeps you in such capital health. 
 You know I had a villa too, though I never had time to go 
 there." 
 
 "Ah, yes; I think, I remember, at Ful-Ful-Fulham! " 
 gasped out Mr. Douce. "Your poor uncle's now Lady 
 Var-Vargrave's jointure-house. So so " 
 
 " She don't live there! " burst in Vargrave (far too impatient 
 to be polite). "Too cockney fied for her, gave it up to me; 
 very pretty place, but d d expensive. I could not afford it, 
 never went there, and so I have let it to my wine-merchant; 
 the rent just pays his bill. You will taste some of the sofas 
 and tables to-day in his champagne. I don't know how it is, 
 I always fancy my sherry smells like my poor uncle's old 
 leather chair : very odd smell it had, a kind of respectable 
 smell! I hope you 're hungry, dinner 's ready." 
 
 Vargrave thus rattled away in order to give the good banker 
 to understand that his affairs were in the most flourishing 
 condition : and he continued to keep up the ball all dinner- 
 time, stopping Mr. Douce's little, miserable, gasping, dacelike 
 mouth, with "a glass of wine, Douce?" or "by the by, Douce," 
 whenever he saw that worthy gentleman about to make the 
 ^schylean improvement of a second person in the dialogue. 
 
 At length, dinner being fairly over, and the servants with- 
 drawn, Lord Vargrave, knowing that sooner or later Douce 
 would have his say, drew his chair to the fire, put his feet on 
 the fender, and cried, as he tossed off his claret, "Now, 
 
 DOUCE, WHAT CAN I DO TOR YOU?" 
 
 Mr. Douce opened his eyes to their full extent, and then as 
 rapidly closed them; and this operation he continued till, 
 having snuffed them so much that they could by no possibil- 
 ity burn any brighter, he was convinced that he had not mis- 
 understood his lordship.
 
 256 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Indeed, then," he began, in his most frightened manner, 
 " indeed I realty, your lordship is very good I I 
 wanted to speak to you on business." 
 
 "Well, what can I do for you, some little favour, eh? 
 Snug sinecure for a favourite clerk, or a place in the Stamp- 
 Office for your fat footman John, I think you call him? 
 You know, my dear Douce, you may command me." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, you are all good-good-goodness but 
 but " 
 
 Vargrave threw himself back, and shutting his eyes and 
 pursing up his mouth, resolutely suffered Mr. Douce to un- 
 bosom himself without interruption. He was considerably 
 relieved to find that the business referred to related only to 
 Miss Cameron. 
 
 Mr. Douce having reminded Lord Vargrave, as he had often 
 done before, of the wishes of his uncle, that the greater por- 
 tion of the money bequeathed to Evelyn should be invested 
 in land, proceeded to say that a most excellent opportunity 
 presented itself for just such a purchase as would have re- 
 joiced the heart of the late lord, a superb place, in the style 
 of Blickling, deer-park six miles round, ten thousand acres 
 of land, bringing in a clear eight thousand pounds a year, pur- 
 chase money only two hundred and forty thousand pounds. 
 The whole estate was, indeed, much larger, eighteen thou- 
 sand acres ; but then the more distant farms could be sold in 
 different lots, in order to meet the exact sum Miss Cameron's 
 trustees were enabled to invest. 
 
 "Well," said Vargrave, "and where is it? My poor uncle 
 was after De Clifford's estate, but the title was not good." 
 
 "Oh! this is much much much fi-fi-finer; famous 
 investment but rather far off in in the north, Li-Li- 
 Lisle Court." 
 
 "Lisle Court! Why, does not that belong to Colonel 
 Maltravers? " 
 
 "Yes. It is, indeed, quite, I may say, a secret yes 
 really a se-se-secret not in the market yet not at all 
 soon snapped up." 
 
 "Humph! Has Colonel Maltravers been extravagant?"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 257 
 
 "No; but he does not I hear or rather Lady Julia 
 so I 'm told, yes, indeed does not li-like going so far, and 
 so they spend the winter in Italy instead. Yes very odd 
 very fine place." 
 
 Luraley was slightly acquainted with the elder brother of 
 his old friend, a man who possessed some of Ernest's faults, 
 very proud, and very exacting, and very fastidious ; but all 
 these faults were developed in the ordinary commonplace 
 world, and were not the refined abstractions of his younger 
 brother. 
 
 Colonel Maltravers had continued, since he entered the 
 Guards, to be thoroughly the man of fashion, and nothing 
 more. But rich and well-born, and highly connected, and 
 thoroughly a la, mode as he was, his pride made him uncom- 
 fortable in London, while his fastidiousness made him un- 
 comfortable in the country. He was rather a great person, 
 but he wanted to be a very great person. This he was at 
 Lisle Court; but that did not satisfy him. He wanted not 
 only to be a very great person, but a very great person among 
 very great persons and squires and parsons bored him. 
 Lady Julia, his wife, was a fine lady, inane and pretty, who 
 saw everything through her husband's eyes. He was quite 
 master chez lui, was Colonel Maltravers! He lived a great 
 deal abroad; for on the Continent his large income seemed 
 princely, while his high character, thorough breeding, and 
 personal advantages, which were remarkable, secured him a 
 greater position in foreign courts than at his own. Two 
 things had greatly disgusted him with Lisle Court, trifles 
 they might be with others, but they were not trifles to Cuth- 
 bert Maltravers ; in the first place, a man who had been his 
 father's attorney, and who "was the very incarnation of coarse 
 unrepellable familiarity, had bought an estate close by the 
 said Lisle Court, and had, horresco referens, been made a bar- 
 onet! Sir Gregory Gubbins took precedence of Colonel Mal- 
 travers ! He could not ride out but he met Sir Gregory ; he 
 could not dine out but he had the pleasure of walking behind 
 Sir Gregory's bright blue coat with its bright brass buttons. 
 In his last visit to Lisle Court, which he had then crowded 
 
 17
 
 258 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 with all manner of fine people, he had seen the very first 
 morning after his arrival seen from the large window of 
 his state saloon, a great staring white, red, blue, and gilt 
 thing, at the end of the stately avenue planted by Sir Guy 
 Maltravers in honour of the victory over the Spanish armada. 
 He looked in mute surprise, and everybody else looked; and 
 a polite German count, gazing through his eye-glass, said, 
 "Ah! dat is vat you call a vim in your pays, the vim of 
 Colonel Maltravers ! " 
 
 This " vim " was the pagoda summer-house of Sir Gregory 
 Gubbins, erected in imitation of the Pavilion at Brighton. 
 Colonel Maltravers was miserable : the vim haunted him ; it 
 seemed ubiquitous ; he could not escape it, it was built on 
 the highest spot in the county. Kide, walk, sit where he 
 would, the vim stared at him; and he thought he saw little 
 mandarins shake their round little heads at him. This was 
 one of the great curses of Lisle Court ; the other was yet more 
 galling. The owners of Lisle Court had for several genera- 
 tions possessed the dominant interest in the county town. 
 The colonel himself meddled little in politics, and was too 
 fine a gentleman for the drudgery of parliament. He had 
 offered the seat to Ernest, when the latter had commenced 
 his public career; but the result of a communication proved 
 that their political views were dissimilar, and the negotiation 
 dropped without ill-feeling on either side. Subsequently a 
 vacancy occurred; and Lady Julia's brother (just made a Lord 
 of the Treasury) wished to come into parliament, so the 
 county town was offered to him. Now, the proud commoner 
 had married into the family of a peer as proud as himself, 
 and Colonel Maltravers was always glad whenever he could 
 impress his consequence on his connections by doing them a 
 favour. He wrote to his steward to see that the thing was 
 properly settled, and came down on the nomination-day "to 
 share the triumph and partake the gale." Guess his indigna- 
 tion, when he found the nephew of Sir Gregory Gubbins was 
 already in the field ! The result of the election was that Mr. 
 Augustus Gubbins came in, and that Colonel Maltravers was 
 pelted with cabbage-stalks, and accused of attempting to sell
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 259 
 
 the worthy and independent electors to a government nomi- 
 nee ! In shame and disgust, Colonel Maltravers broke up his 
 establishment at Lisle Court, and once more retired to the 
 Continent. 
 
 About a week from the date now touched upon, Lady Julia 
 and himself had arrived in London from Vienna; and a new 
 mortification awaited the unfortunate owner of Lisle Court. 
 A railroad company had been established, of which Sir Greg- 
 ory Gubbins was a principal shareholder; and the speculator, 
 Mr. Augustus Gubbins, one of the "most useful men in the 
 House," had undertaken to carry the bill through parliament. 
 Colonel Maltravers received a letter of portentous size, inclos- 
 ing the map of the places which this blessed railway was to 
 bisect; and lo! just at the bottom of his park ran a portentous 
 line, which informed him of the sacrifice he was expected to 
 make for the public good, especially for the good of that 
 very county town, the inhabitants of which had pelted him 
 with cabbage-stalks ! 
 
 Colonel Maltravers lost all patience. Unacquainted with 
 our wise legislative proceedings, he was not aware that a rail- 
 way planned is a very different thing from a railway made; 
 and that parliamentary committees are not by any means 
 favourable to schemes for carrying the public through a gen- 
 tleman's park. 
 
 "This country is not to be lived in," said he to Lady Julia; 
 " it gets worse and worse every year. I am sure I never had 
 any comfort in Lisle Court. I 've a great mind to sell it." 
 
 "Why, indeed, as we have no sons, only daughters, and 
 Ernest is so well provided for," said Lady Julia, "and the 
 place is so far from London, and the neighbourhood is so dis- 
 agreeable, I think we could do very well without it." 
 
 Colonel Maltravers made no answer, but he revolved the 
 pros and cons ; and then he began to think how much it cost 
 him in gamekeepers and carpenters and bailiffs and gardeners 
 and Heaven knows whom besides ; and then the pagoda flashed 
 across him; and then the cabbage -stalks, and at last he went 
 to his solicitor. 
 
 "You may sell Lisle Court," said he, quietly.
 
 260 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 The solicitor dipped his pen in the ink. " The particulars, 
 Colonel? " 
 
 "Particulars of Lisle Court! everybody, that is, every gen- 
 tleman, knows Lisle Court ! " 
 
 "Price, sir?" 
 
 "You know the rents; calculate accordingly. It will be 
 too large a purchase for one individual; sell the outlying 
 woods and farms separately from the rest." 
 
 "We must draw up an advertisement, Colonel." 
 
 "Advertise Lisle Court! out of the question, sir. I can 
 have no publicity given to my intention : mention it quietly 
 to any capitalist; but keep it out of the papers till it is all 
 settled. In a week or two you will find a purchaser, the 
 sooner the better." 
 
 Besides his horror of newspaper comments and newspaper 
 puffs, Colonel Maltravers dreaded that his brother then in 
 Paris should learn his intention, and attempt to thwart it ; 
 and, somehow or other, the colonel was a little in awe of 
 Ernest, and a little ashamed of his resolution. He did not 
 know that, by a singular coincidence, Ernest himself had 
 thought of selling Burleigh. 
 
 The solicitor was by no means pleased with this way of 
 settling the matter. However, he whispered it about that 
 Lisle Court was in the market; and as it really was one of 
 the most celebrated places of its kind in England, the whis- 
 per spread among bankers and brewers and soap-boilers and 
 other rich people the Medici of the New Noblesse rising up 
 amongst us till at last it reached the ears of Mr. Douce. 
 
 Lord Vargrave, however bad a man he might be, had not 
 many of those vices of character which belong to what I may 
 call the personal class of vices, that is, he had no ill-will to 
 individuals. He was not, ordinarily, a jealous man, nor a 
 spiteful, nor a malignant, nor a vindictive man: his vices 
 arose from utter indifference to all men, and all things ex- 
 cept as conducive to his own ends. He would not have in- 
 jured a worm if it did him no good; but he would have set 
 any house on fire if he had no other means of roasting his own 
 eggs. Yet still, if any feeling of personal rancour could har-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 261 
 
 hour in his breast, it was, first, towards Evelyn Cameron, and, 
 secondly, towards Ernest Maltravers. For the first time in 
 his life, he did long for revenge, revenge against the one 
 for stealing his patrimony, and refusing his hand; and that 
 revenge he hoped to gratify. 
 
 As to the other, it was not so much dislike he felt, as an 
 uneasy sentiment of inferiority. However well he himself 
 had got on in the world, he yet grudged the reputation of a 
 man whom he had remembered a wayward, inexperienced boy: 
 he did not love to hear any one praise Maltravers. He 
 fancied, too, that this feeling was reciprocal, and that Mal- 
 travers was pained at hearing of any new step in his own 
 career. In fact, it was that sort of jealousy which men often 
 feel for the companions of their youth, whose characters are 
 higher than their own, and whose talents are of an order they 
 do not quite comprehend. Now, it certainly did seem at that 
 moment to Lord Vargrave that it would be a most splendid 
 triumph over Mr. Maltravers of Burleigh to be lord of Lisle 
 Court, the hereditary seat of the elder branch of the family : 
 to be, as it were, in the very shoes of Mr. Ernest Maltravers 's 
 elder brother. He knew, too, that it was a property of great 
 consequence. Lord Vargrave of Lisle Court would hold a very 
 
 different post in the peerage from Lord Vargrave of , 
 
 Fulham! Nobody would call the owner of Lisle Court an 
 adventurer; nobody would suspect such a man of caring three 
 straws about place and salary. And if he married Evelyn, 
 and if Evelyn bought Lisle Court, would not Lisle Court be 
 his? He vaulted over the ifs, stiff monosyllables though they 
 were, with a single jump. Besides, even should the thing 
 come to nothing, there was the very excuse he sought for 
 joining Evelyn at Paris, for conversing with her, consulting 
 her. It was true that the will of the late lord left it solely 
 at the discretion of the trustees to select such landed invest- 
 ment as seemed best to them; but still it was, if not legally 
 necessary, at least but a proper courtesy to consult Evelyn. 
 And plans, and drawings, and explanations, and rent-rolls, 
 would justify him in spending morning after morning alone 
 with her.
 
 262 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Thus cogitating, Lord Vargrave suffered Mr. Douce to 
 stammer out sentence upon sentence, till at length, as he 
 rang for coffee, his lordship stretched himself with the air 
 of a man stretching himself into self-complacency or a good 
 thing, and said, 
 
 " Mr. Douce, I will go down to Lisle Court as soon as I can ; 
 I will see it; I will ascertain all about it; I will consider 
 favourably of it. I agree with you, I think it will do 
 famously. " 
 
 "But," said Mr. Douce, who seemed singularly anxious 
 about the matter, " we must make haste, my lord ; for really 
 
 yes, indeed if if if Baron Koths Rothschild should 
 
 that is to say " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I understand; keep the thing close, my dear 
 Douce; make friends with the colonel's lawyer; play with 
 him a little, till I can run down." 
 
 " Besides, you see, you are such a good man of business, my 
 lord that you see, that yes, really there must be time to 
 draw out the purchase-money sell out at a prop prop " 
 
 "To be sure, to be sure! Bless me, how late it is! I 
 am afraid my carriage is ready. I must go to Madame de 
 L 's." 
 
 Mr. Douce, who seemed to have much more to say, was 
 forced to keep it for another time, and to take his leave. 
 
 Lord Vargrave went to Madame de L 's. His position 
 
 in what is called Exclusive Society was rather peculiar. By 
 those who affected to be the best judges, the frankness of his 
 manner and the easy oddity of his conversation were pro- 
 nounced at variance with the tranquil serenity of thorough 
 breeding. But still he was a great favourite both with fine 
 ladies and dandies. His handsome keen countenance, his 
 talents, his politics, his intrigues, and an animated boldness 
 in his bearing, compensated for his constant violation of all 
 the minutiae of orthodox conventionalism. 
 
 At this house he met Colonel Maltravers, and took an 
 opportunity to renew his acquaintance with that gentleman. 
 He then referred, in a confidential whisper, to the communi- 
 cation he had received touching Lisle Court.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 263 
 
 "Yes," said the colonel, "I suppose I must sell the place, 
 if I can do so quietly. To be sure, when I first spoke to my 
 lawyer it was in a moment of vexation, on hearing that the 
 
 railroad was to go through the park, but I find that I 
 
 overrated that danger. Still, if you will do me the honour 
 to go and look over the place, you will find very good shoot- 
 ing; and when you come back, you can see if it will suit you. 
 Don't say anything about it when you are there; it is better 
 not to publish my intention all over the county. I shall have 
 Sir Gregory Gubbins offering to buy it if you do ! " 
 
 " You may depend on my discretion. Have you heard any- 
 thing of your brother lately?" 
 
 "Yes; I fancy he is going to Switzerland. He would soon 
 be in England, if he heard I was going to part with Lisle 
 Court!" 
 
 "What, it would vex him so? " 
 
 " I fear it would ; but he has a nice old place of his own, not 
 half so large, and therefore not half so troublesome as Lisle 
 Court." 
 
 "Ay! and he did talk of selling that nice old place." 
 
 "Selling Burleigh! you surprise me. But really country 
 places in England are a bore. I suppose he has his Gubbins 
 as well as myself! " 
 
 Here the chief minister of the government adorned by Lord 
 Vargrave's virtues passed by, and Lumley turned to greet 
 him. 
 
 The two ministers talked together most affectionately in a 
 close whisper, so affectionately, that one might have seen, 
 with half an eye, that they hated each other like poison !
 
 264 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INSPICERE tanquam in speculum, in vitas omnium 
 Jubeo. 1 TERENCE. 
 
 ERNEST MALTKAVERS still lingered at Paris : he gave up all 
 notion of proceeding farther. He was, in fact, tired of travel. 
 But there was another reason that chained him to that "Navel 
 of the Earth," there is not anywhere a better sounding-board 
 to London rumours than the English quartier between the 
 Boulevard des Italiennes and the Tuileries; here, at all 
 events, he should soonest learn the worst: and every day, 
 as he took up the English newspapers, a sick feeling of appre- 
 hension and fear came over him. No! till the seal was set 
 upon the bond, till the Rubicon was passed, till Miss Came- 
 ron was the wife of Lord Vargrave, he could neither return to 
 the home that was so eloquent with the recollections of Eve- 
 lyn, nor, by removing farther from England, delay the receipt 
 of an intelligence which he vainly told himself he was pre- 
 pared to meet. 
 
 He continued to seek such distractions from thought as 
 were within his reach; and as his heart was too occupied for 
 pleasures which had, indeed, long since palled, those distrac- 
 tions were of the grave and noble character which it is a pre- 
 rogative of the intellect to afford to the passions. 
 
 De Montaigne was neither a Doctrinaire nor a Republican, 
 and yet, perhaps, he was a little of both. He was one who 
 thought that the tendency of all European States is towards 
 Democracy; but he by no means looked upon Democracy as a 
 panacea for all legislative evils. He thought that, while 
 a writer should be in advance of his time, a statesman should 
 content himself with marching by its side; that a nation 
 could not be ripened, like an exotic, by artificial means ; that 
 it must be developed only by natural influences. He believed 
 
 1 " I bid you look into the lives of all men, as it were into a mirror."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 265 
 
 that forms of government are never universal in their effects. 
 Thus, De Montaigne conceived that we were wrong in attach- 
 ing more importance to legislative than to social reforms. He 
 considered, for instance, that the surest sign of our progres- 
 sive civilization is in our growing distaste to capital pun- 
 ishments. He believed, not in the ultimate perfection of 
 mankind, but in their progressive perfectibility. He thought 
 that improvement was indefinite; but he did not place its 
 advance more under Republican than under Monarchical 
 forms. "Provided," he was wont to say, "all our checks 
 to power are of the right kind, it matters little to what hands 
 the power itself is confided." 
 
 "^Egina and Athens," said he, "were republics commer- 
 cial and maritime placed under the same sky, surrounded 
 by the same neighbours, and rent by the same struggles be- 
 tween Oligarchy and Democracy. Yet, while one left the 
 world an immortal heirloom of genius, where are the poets, 
 the philosophers, the statesmen of the other? Arrian tells us 
 of republics in India, still supposed to exist by modern inves- 
 tigators; but they are not more productive of liberty of 
 thought, or ferment of intellect, than the principalities. In 
 Italy there were commonwealths as liberal as the Republic 
 of Florence; but they did not produce a Machiavelli or a 
 Dante. What daring thought, what gigantic speculation, 
 what democracy of wisdom and genius, have sprung up 
 amongst the despotisms of Germany! You cannot educate 
 two individuals so as to produce the same results from both; 
 you cannot, by similar constitutions (which are the education 
 of nations) produce the same results from different communi- 
 ties. The proper object of statesmen should be to give every 
 facility to the people to develop themselves, and every facil- 
 ity to philosophy to dispute and discuss as to the ultimate 
 objects to be obtained. But you cannot, as a practical legis- 
 lator, place your country under a melon-frame : it must grow 
 of its own accord." 
 
 I do not say whether or not De Montaigne was wrong! but 
 Maltravers saw at least that he was faithful to his theories ; 
 that all his motives were sincere, all his practice pure. He
 
 266 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 could not but allow, too, that in his occupations and labours, 
 De Montaigne appeared to feel a sublime enjoyment; that, in 
 linking all the powers of his mind to active and useful objects, 
 De Montaigne was infinitely happier than the Philosophy of 
 Indifference, the scorn of ambition, had made Maltravers. 
 The influence exercised by the large-souled and practical 
 Frenchman over the fate and the history of Maltravers was 
 very peculiar. 
 
 De Montaigne had not, apparently and directly, operated 
 upon his friend's outward destinies ; but he had done so indi- 
 rectly, by operating on his mind. Perhaps it was he who had 
 consolidated the first wavering and uncertain impulses of Mal- 
 travers towards literary exertion; it was he who had consoled 
 him for the mortifications at the earlier part of his career ; and 
 now, perhaps he might serve, in the full vigour of his intel- 
 lect, permanently to reconcile the Englishman to the claims 
 of life. 
 
 There were, indeed, certain conversations which Maltravers 
 held with De Montaigne, the germ and pith of which it is 
 necessary that I should place before the reader, for I write 
 the inner as well as the outer history of a man ; and the great 
 incidents of life are not brought about only by the dramatic 
 agencies of others, but also by our own reasonings and habits 
 of thought. What I am now about to set down may be weari- 
 some, but it is not episodical; and I promise that it shall be 
 the last didactic conversation in the work. 
 
 One day Maltravers was relating to De Montaigne all that 
 he had been planning at Burleigh for the improvement of his 
 peasantry, and all his theories respecting Labour-Schools and 
 Poor-rates, when De Montaigne abruptly turned round, and 
 said, 
 
 " You have, then, really found that in your own little village 
 your exertions exertions not very arduous, not demanding a 
 tenth part of your time have done practical good?" 
 
 " Certainly I think so," replied Maltravers, in some surprise. 
 
 " And yet it was but yesterday that you declared that all 
 the labours of Philosophy and Legislation were labours vain; 
 their benefits equivocal and uncertain ; that as the sea, where
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 267 
 
 it loses in one place, gains in another, so civilization only 
 partially profits us, stealing away one virtue while it yields 
 another, and leaving the large proportions of good and evil 
 eternally the same." 
 
 " True ; but I never said that man might not relieve indi- 
 viduals by individual exertion : though he cannot by abstract 
 theories nay, even by practical action in the wide circle 
 benefit the mass." 
 
 "Do you not employ on behalf of individuals the same 
 moral agencies that wise legislation or sound philosophy 
 would adopt towards the multitude? For example, you find 
 that the children of your village are happier, more orderly, 
 more obedient, promise to be wiser and better men in their 
 own station of life, from the new, and, I grant, excellent sys- 
 tem of school discipline and teaching that you have estab- 
 lished. What you have done in one village, why should not 
 legislation do throughout a kingdom? Again, you find that, 
 by simply holding out hope and emulation to industry, by 
 making stern distinctions between the energetic and the idle, 
 the independent exertion and the pauper-mendicancy, you 
 have found a lever by which you have literally moved and 
 shifted the little world around you. But what is the differ- 
 ence here between the rules of a village lord and the laws of a 
 wise legislature? The moral feelings you have appealed to 
 exist universally, the moral remedies you have practised are 
 as open to legislation as to the individual proprietor." 
 
 " Yes ; but when you apply to a nation the same principles 
 which regenerate a village, new counterbalancing principles 
 arise. If I give education to my peasants, I send them into 
 the world with advantages superior to their fellows, ad- 
 vantages which, not being common to their class, enable them 
 to outstrip their fellows. But if this education were univer- 
 sal to the whole tribe, no man would have an advantage supe- 
 rior to the others ; the knowledge they would have acquired 
 being shared by all, would leave all as they now are, hewers 
 of wood and drawers of water: the principle of individual 
 hope, which springs from knowledge, would soon be baffled 
 by the vast competition that universal knowledge would pro-
 
 268 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 duce. Thus by the universal improvement would be engen- 
 dered a universal discontent. 
 
 " Take a broader view of the subject. Advantages given to 
 the few around me superior wages, lighter toils, a greater 
 sense of the dignity of man are not productive of any change 
 in society. Give these advantages to the whole mass of the 
 labouring classes, and what in the small orbit is the desire of 
 the individual to rise becomes in the large circumference the 
 desire of the class to rise; hence social restlessness, social 
 change, revolution, and its hazards. For revolutions are pro- 
 duced but by the aspirations of one order, and the resistance 
 of the other. Consequently, legislative improvement differs 
 widely from individual amelioration ; the same principle, the 
 same agency, that purifies the small body, becomes destruc- 
 tive when applied to the large one. Apply the flame to the 
 log on the hearth, or apply it to the forest, is there no dis- 
 tinction in the result? The breeze that freshens the fountain 
 passes to the ocean, current impels current, wave urges wave, 
 and the breeze becomes the storm." 
 
 "Were there truth in this train of argument," replied De 
 Montaigne, "had we ever abstained from communicating to 
 the Multitude the enjoyments and advantages of the Few, had 
 we shrunk from the good, because the good is a parent of the 
 change and its partial ills, what now would be society? Is 
 there no difference in collective happiness and virtue between 
 the painted Picts and the Druid worship, and the glorious 
 harmony, light, and order of the great English nation?" 
 
 "The question is popular," said Maltravers, with a smile; 
 " and were you my opponent in an election, would be cheered 
 on any hustings in the kingdom. But I have lived among 
 savage tribes, savage, perhaps, as the race that resisted 
 Caesar; and their happiness seems to me, not perhaps the 
 same as that of the few whose sources of enjoyment are 
 numerous, refined, and, save by their own passions, unal- 
 loyed; but equal to that of the mass of men in States the 
 most civilized and advanced. The artisans, crowded together 
 in the fetid air of factories, with physical ills gnawing at the 
 core of the constitution, from the cradle to the grave; drudg-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 269 
 
 ing on from dawn to sunset and flying for recreation to the 
 dread excitement of the dram-shop, or the wild and vain 
 hopes of political fanaticism, are not in my eyes happier 
 than the wild Indians with hardy frames and calm tempers, 
 seasoned to the privations for which you pity them, and un- 
 cursed with desires of that better state never to be theirs. 
 The Arab in his desert has seen all the luxuries of the pasha 
 in his harem ; but he envies them not. He is contented with 
 his barb, his tent, his desolate sands, and his spring of re- 
 freshing water. 
 
 " Are we not daily told, do not our priests preach it from 
 their pulpits, that the cottage shelters happiness equal to that 
 within the palace? Yet what the distinction between the 
 peasant and the prince, differing from that between the peas- 
 ant and the savage? There are more enjoyments and more 
 privations in the one than in the other; but if, in the latter 
 case, the enjoyments, though fewer, be more keenly felt, if 
 the privations, though apparently sharper, fall upon duller 
 sensibilities and hardier frames, your gauge of proportion 
 loses all its value. Nay, in civilization there is for the mul- 
 titude an evil that exists not in the savage state. The poor 
 man sees daily and hourly all the vast disparities produced by 
 civilized society; and reversing the divine parable, it is Laza- 
 rus who from afar, and from the despondent pit, looks upon 
 Dives in the lap of Paradise: therefore, his privations, his 
 sufferings, are made more keen by comparison with the luxu- 
 ries of others. Not so in the desert and the forest. There 
 but small distinctions, and those softened by immemorial and 
 hereditary usage that has in it the sanctity of religion 
 separate the savage from his chief. The fact is, that in civil- 
 ization we behold a splendid aggregate, literature and 
 science, wealth and luxury, commerce and glory; but we see 
 not the million victims crushed beneath the wheels of the 
 machine, the health sacrificed, the board breadless, the jails 
 filled, the hospitals reeking, the human life poisoned in every 
 spring, and poured forth like water! Neither do we remember 
 all the steps, marked by desolation, crime, and bloodshed, by 
 which this barren summit has been reached. Take the his-
 
 270 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 tory of any civilized state, England, France, Spain before 
 she rotted back into second childhood, the Italian Republics, 
 the Greek Commonwealths, the Empress of the Seven Hills 
 what struggles, what persecutions, what crimes, what mas- 
 sacres! Where, in the page of history, shall we look back 
 and say, ' Here improvement has diminished the sum of 
 evil ' ? Extend, too, your scope beyond the State itself : each 
 State has won its acquisitions by the woes of others. Spain 
 springs above the Old World on the blood-stained ruins of 
 the New ; and the groans and the gold of Mexico produce the 
 splendours of the Fifth Charles ! 
 
 "Behold England, the wise, the liberal, the free England 
 through what struggles she has passed ; and is she yet con- 
 tented? The sullen oligarchy of the Normans; our own crim- 
 inal invasions of Scotland and France ; the plundered people, 
 the butchered kings; the persecutions of the Lollards; the 
 wars of Lancaster and York ; the new dynasty of the Tudors, 
 that at once put back Liberty, and put forward Civilization ! 
 the Reformation, cradled in the lap of a hideous despot, and 
 nursed by violence and rapine; the stakes and fires of Mary, 
 and the craftier cruelties of Elizabeth, England, strength- 
 ened by the desolation of Ireland, the Civil Wars, the reign 
 of hypocrisy, followed by the reign of naked vice ; the nation 
 that beheaded the graceful Charles gaping idly on the scaffold 
 of the lofty Sidney; the vain Revolution of 1688, which, if a 
 jubilee in England, was a massacre in Ireland; the bootless 
 glories of Marlborough ; the organized corruption of Walpole, 
 the frantic war with our own American sons, the exhausting 
 struggles with Napoleon ! 
 
 "Well, we close the page; we say, Lo! a thousand years 
 of incessant struggles and afflictions ! millions have perished, 
 but Art has survived; our boors wear stockings, our women 
 drink tea, our poets read Shakspeare, and our astronomers 
 improve on Newton! Are we now contented? No! more 
 restless than ever. New classes are called into power; new 
 forms of government insisted on. Still the same catch- 
 words, Liberty here, Religion there ; Order with one fac- 
 tion, Amelioration with the other. Where is the goal, and
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 271 
 
 what have we gained? Books are written, silks are woven, 
 palaces are built, mighty acquisitions for the few but the 
 peasant is a peasant still ! The crowd are yet at the bottom 
 of the wheel ; better off, you say. No, for they are not more 
 contented! The artisan is as anxious for change as ever the 
 serf was ; and the steam-engine has its victims as well as the 
 sword. 
 
 "Talk of legislation: all isolated laws pave the way to 
 wholesale changes in the form of government! Emancipate 
 Catholics, and you open the door to democratic principle, 
 that Opinion should be free. If free with the sectarian, it 
 should be free with the elector. The Ballot is a corollary 
 from the Catholic Relief-bill. Grant the Ballot, and the new 
 corollary of enlarged suffrage. Suffrage enlarged is divided 
 but by a yielding surface (a circle widening in the waters) 
 from universal suffrage. Universal suffrage is Democracy. 
 Is Democracy better than the aristocratic commonwealth? 
 Look at the Greeks, who knew both forms ; are they agreed 
 which is the best? Plato, Thucydides, Xenophon, Aristo- 
 phanes the Dreamer, the Historian, the Philosophic Man 
 of Action, the penetrating Wit have no ideals in Democ- 
 racy. Algernon Sidney, the martyr of liberty, allows no 
 government to the multitude. Brutus died for a republic, 
 but a republic of Patricians! What form of government is 
 then the best? All dispute, the wisest cannot agree. The 
 many still say ' a Republic ; ' yet, as you yourself will allow, 
 Prussia, the Despotism, does all that Republics do. Yes, but 
 a good despot is a lucky accident; true, but a just and benevo- 
 lent Republic is as yet a monster equally short-lived. When 
 the People have no other tyrant, their own public opinion 
 becomes one. No secret espionage is more intolerable to a 
 free spirit than the broad glare of the American eye. 
 
 " A rural republic is but a patriarchal tribe no emulation, 
 no glory; peace and stagnation. What Englishman, what 
 Frenchman, would wish to be a Swiss? A commercial repub- 
 lic is but an admirable machine for making money. Is man 
 created for nothing nobler than freighting ships and speculat- 
 ing on silk and sugar? In fact, there is no certain goal in 
 legislation; we go on colonizing Utopia, and fighting phan-
 
 272 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 toms in the clouds. Let us content ourselves with injuring 
 no man, and doing good only in our own little sphere. Let 
 us leave States and senates to fill the sieve of the Danaides, 
 and roll up the stone of Sisyphus." 
 
 " My dear friend, " said De Montaigne, " you have certainly 
 made the most of an argument, which, if granted, would con- 
 sign government to fools and knaves, and plunge the commu- 
 nities of mankind into the Slough of Despond. But a very 
 commonplace view of the question might suffice to shake your 
 system. Is life, mere animal life, on the whole, a curse or a 
 blessing?" 
 
 "The generality of men in all countries," answered Mal- 
 travers, "enjoy existence, and apprehend death; were it 
 otherwise, the world had been made by a Fiend, and not a 
 God!" 
 
 "Well, then, observe how the progress of society cheats 
 the grave! In great cities, where the effect of civilization 
 must be the most visible, the diminution of mortality in a 
 corresponding ratio with the increase of civilization is most 
 remarkable. In Berlin, from the year 1747 to 1755, the 
 annual mortality was as one to twenty-eight ; but from 1816 
 to 1822, it was as one to thirty-four! You ask what England 
 has gained by her progress in the arts? I will answer you by 
 her bills of mortality. In London, Birmingham, and Liver- 
 pool, deaths have decreased in less than a century from one 
 to twenty, to one to forty (precisely one-half!). Again, when- 
 ever a community nay, a single city, decreases in civil- 
 ization, and in its concomitants, activity and commerce, its 
 mortality instantly increases. But if civilization be favour- 
 able to the prolongation of life, must it not be favourable to 
 all that blesses life, to bodily health, to mental cheerful- 
 ness, to the capacities for enjoyment? And how much more 
 grand, how much more sublime, becomes the prospect of gain, 
 if we reflect that, to each life thus called forth, there is a 
 soul, a destiny beyond the grave, multiplied immortalities! 
 What an apology for the continued progress of States ! But 
 you say that, however we advance, we continue impatient and 
 dissatisfied: can you really suppose that, because man in every 
 state is discontented with his lot, there is no difference in the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 273 
 
 degree and quality of his discontent, no distinction between 
 pining for bread and longing for the moon? Desire is im- 
 planted within us, as the very principle of existence; the 
 physical desire fills the world, and the moral desire improves 
 it. Where there is desire, there must be discontent: if we 
 are satisfied with all things, desire is extinct. But a certain 
 degree of discontent is not incompatible with happiness, nay, 
 it has happiness of its own ; what happiness like hope, 
 what is hope but desire? The European serf, whose seigneur 
 could command his life, or insist as a right on the chastity of 
 his daughter, desires to better his condition. God has com- 
 passion on his state; Providence calls into action the ambi- 
 tion of leaders, the contests of faction, the movement of men's 
 aims and passions: a change passes through society and legis- 
 lation, and the serf becomes free! He desires still, but what? 
 No longer personal security, no longer the privileges of life 
 and health ; but higher wages, greater comforts, easier justice 
 for diminished wrongs. Is there no difference in the quality 
 of that desire? Was one a greater torment than the other 
 is? Rise a scale higher: a new class is created the Middle 
 Class, the express creature of Civilization. Behold the 
 burgher and the citizen, and still struggling, still contending, 
 still desiring, and therefore still discontented. But the dis- 
 content does not prey upon the springs of life : it is the discon- 
 tent of hope, not despair; it calls forth faculties, energies, and 
 passions, in which there is more joy than sorrow. It is this 
 desire which makes the citizen in private life an anxious 
 father, a careful master, an active, and therefore not an un- 
 happy, man. You allow that individuals can effect individual 
 good: this very restlessness, this very discontent with the ex- 
 act place that he occupies, makes the citizen a benefactor in 
 his narrow circle. Commerce, better than Charity, feeds the 
 hungry and clothes the naked. Ambition, better than brute 
 affection, gives education to our children, and teaches them 
 the love of industry, the pride of independence, the respect 
 for others and themselves ! 
 
 "In other words, a deference to such qualities as can best 
 fit them to get on in the world, and make the most money ! " 
 
 18
 
 274 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " Take that view if you will ; but the wiser, the more civil- 
 ized the State, the worse chances for the rogue to get on! 
 There may be some art, some hypocrisy, some avarice, nay, 
 some hardness of heart, in paternal example and profes- 
 sional tuition. But what are such sober infirmities to the 
 vices that arise from defiance and despair? Your savage has 
 his virtues, but they are mostly physical, fortitude, absti- 
 nence, patience : mental and moral virtues must be numerous 
 or few, in proportion to the range of ideas and the exigencies 
 of social life. With the savage, therefore, they must be fewer 
 than with civilized men; and they are consequently limited 
 to those simple and rude elements which the safety of his 
 state renders necessary to him. He is usually hospitable; 
 sometimes honest. But vices are necessary to his existence 
 as well as virtues : he is at war with a tribe that may destroy 
 his own ; and treachery without scruple, cruelty without re- 
 morse, are essential to him; he feels their necessity, and calls 
 them virtues ! Even the half -civilized man, the Arab whom 
 you praise, imagines he has a necessity for your money ; and 
 his robberies become virtues to him. But in civilized States, 
 vices are at least not necessary to the existence of the major- 
 ity; they are not, therefore, worshipped as virtues. Society 
 unites against them; treachery, robbery, massacre, are not 
 essential to the strength or safety of the community: they 
 exist, it is true, but they are not cultivated, but punished. 
 The thief in St. Giles's has the virtues of your savage: he is 
 true to his companions, he is brave in danger, he is patient in 
 privation; he practises the virtues necessary to the bonds of 
 his calling and the tacit laws of his vocation. He might have 
 made an admirable savage : but surely the mass of civilized 
 men are better than the thief? " 
 
 Maltravers was struck, and paused a little before he replied; 
 and then he shifted his ground. " But at least all our laws, 
 all our efforts, must leave the multitude in every State con- 
 demned to a labour that deadens intellect, and a poverty that 
 embitters life." 
 
 " Supposing this were true, still there are multitudes besides 
 the multitude. In each State Civilization produces a middle
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 275 
 
 class, more numerous to-day than the whole peasantry of a 
 thousand years ago. Would Movement and Progress be with- 
 out their divine uses, even if they limited their effect to the 
 production of such a class? Look also to the effect of art, 
 and refinement, and just laws, in the wealthier and higher 
 classes. See how their very habits of life tend to increase 
 the sum of enjoyment ; see the mighty activity that their very 
 luxury, the very frivolity of their pursuits, create! Without 
 an aristocracy, would there have been a middle class? With- 
 out a middle class, would there ever have been an interposi- 
 tion between lord and slave? Before commerce produces a 
 middle class, Religion creates one. The Priesthood, what- 
 ever its errors, was the curb to Power. But, to return to the 
 multitude, you say that in all times they are left the same. 
 Is it so? I come to statistics again: I find that not only civil- 
 ization, but liberty, has a prodigious effect upon human life. 
 It is, as it were, by the instinct of self-preservation that lib- 
 erty is so passionately desired by the multitude. A negro 
 slave, for instance, dies annually as one to five or six, but a 
 free African in the English service only as one to thirty-five! 
 Freedom is not, therefore, a mere abstract dream, a beautiful 
 name, a Platonic aspiration: it is interwoven with the most 
 practical of all blessings, life itself! And can you say 
 fairly that by laws labour cannot be lightened and poverty 
 diminished? We have granted already that since there are 
 degrees in discontent, there is a difference between the peas- 
 ant and the serf : how know you what the peasant a thousand 
 years hence may be? Discontented, you will say, still dis- 
 contented. Yes; but if he had not been discontented, he 
 would have been a serf still ! Far from quelling this desire 
 to better himself, we ought to hail it as the source of his per- 
 petual progress. That desire to him is often like imagination 
 to the poet, it transports him into the Future 
 
 " ' Crura sonant ferro, sed canit inter opus.' 
 
 It is, indeed, the gradual transformation from the desire of 
 Despair to the desire of Hope, that makes the difference 
 between man and man, between misery and bliss."
 
 276 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "And then comes the crisis. Hope ripens into deeds; the 
 stormy revolution, perhaps the armed despotism; the relapse 
 into the second infancy of States ! " 
 
 " Can we, with new agencies at our command, new morality, 
 new wisdom, predicate of the Future by the Past? In ancient 
 States, the mass were slaves ; civilization and freedom rested 
 with oligarchies; in Athens twenty thousand citizens, four 
 hundred thousand slaves! How easy decline, degeneracy, 
 overthrow in such States, a handful of soldiers and philos- 
 ophers without a People ! Now we have no longer barriers to 
 the circulation of the blood of States. The absence of slavery, 
 the existence of the Press ; the healthful proportions of king- 
 doms, neither too confined nor too vast, have created new 
 hopes, which history cannot destroy. As a proof, look to all 
 late revolutions: in England the Civil Wars, the Reforma- 
 tion, in France her awful Saturnalia, her military despot- 
 ism! Has either nation fallen back? The deluge passes, 
 and, behold, the face of things more glorious than before! 
 Compare the French of to-day with the French of the old 
 regime. You are silent; well, and if in all States there is 
 ever some danger of evil in their activity, is that a reason 
 why you are to lie down inactive; why you are to leave the 
 crew to battle for the helm? How much may individuals by 
 the diffusion of their own thoughts in letters or in action 
 regulate the order of vast events, now prevent, now soften, 
 now animate, now guide ! And is a man to whom Providence 
 and Fortune have imparted such prerogatives to stand aloof, 
 because he can neither foresee the Future nor create Perfec- 
 tion? And you talk of no certain and definite goal! How 
 know we that there is a certain and definite goal, even in 
 heaven? How know we that excellence may not be illimita- 
 ble? Enough that we improve, that we proceed. Seeing in 
 the great design of earth that benevolence is an attribute of 
 the Designer, let us leave the rest to Posterity and to God." 
 
 " You have disturbed many of my theories, " said Maltravers, 
 candidly ; " and I will reflect on our conversation ; but, after all, 
 is every man to aspire to influence others; to throw his opinion 
 into the great scales in which human destinies are weighed?
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 277 
 
 Private life is not criminal. It is no virtue to write a book, 
 or to make a speech. Perhaps, I should be as well engaged 
 in returning to my country village, looking at my schools, 
 and wrangling with the parish overseers " 
 
 "Ah," interrupted the Frenchman, laughing; "if I have 
 driven you to this point, I will go no further. Every state 
 of life has its duties ; every man must be himself the judge of 
 what he is most fit for. It is quite enough that he desires to 
 be active, and labours to be useful ; that he acknowledges the 
 precept, ' Never to be weary in well-doing. ' The divine appe- 
 tite once fostered, let it select its own food. But the man 
 who, after fair trial of his capacities, and with all opportunity 
 for their full development before him, is convinced that he 
 has faculties which private life cannot wholly absorb, must 
 not repine that Human Nature is not perfect, when he refuses 
 even to exercise the gifts he himself possesses." 
 
 Now these arguments have been very tedious; in some 
 places they have been old and trite; in others they may 
 appear too much to appertain to the abstract theory of first 
 principles. Yet from such arguments, pro and con, unless 
 I greatly mistake, are to be derived corollaries equally prac- 
 tical and sublime, the virtue of Action, the obligations of 
 Genius, and the philosophy that teaches us to confide in the 
 destinies, and labour in the service, of mankind. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I 'LL tell you presently her very picture ; 
 Stay yes, it is so Lelia. 
 
 The Captain, Act v. sc. 1. 
 
 MALTRAVERS had not shrunk into a system of false phil- 
 osophy from wayward and sickly dreams, from resolute 
 self-delusion; on the contrary, his errors rested on his con- 
 victions: the convictions disturbed, the errors were rudely 
 shaken.
 
 278 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 But when his mind began restlessly to turn once more 
 towards the duties of active life; when he recalled all the 
 former drudgeries and toils of political conflict, or the wear- 
 ing fatigues of literature, with its small enmities, its false 
 friendships, and its meagre and capricious rewards, ah, 
 then, indeed, he shrank in dismay from the thoughts of the 
 solitude at home ! No lips to console in dejection, no heart 
 to sympathize in triumph, no love within to counterbalance 
 the hate without, and the best of man, his household affec- 
 tions, left to wither away, or to waste themselves on ideal 
 images, or melancholy remembrance. 
 
 It may, indeed, be generally remarked (contrary to a com- 
 mon notion), that the men who are most happy at home are 
 the most active abroad. The animal spirits are necessary to 
 healthful action; and dejection and the sense of solitude will 
 turn the stoutest into dreamers. The hermit is the antipodes 
 of the citizen; and no gods animate and inspire us like the 
 Lares. 
 
 One evening, after an absence from Paris of nearly a fort- 
 night, at De Montaigne's villa, in the neighbourhood of St. 
 Cloud, Maltravers, who, though he no longer practised the 
 art, was not less fond than heretofore of music, was seated in 
 Madame de Ventadour's box at the Italian Opera; and Valerie, 
 who was above all the woman's jealousy of beauty, was expa- 
 tiating with great warmth of eulogium upon the charms of a 
 
 young English lady whom she had met at Lady G 's the 
 
 preceding evening. 
 
 "She is just my beau-ideal of the true English beauty," 
 said Valerie: "it is not only the exquisite fairness of the 
 complexion, nor the eyes so purely blue, which the dark 
 lashes relieve from the coldness common to the light eyes of 
 the Scotch and German, that are so beautifully national, 
 but the simplicity of manner, the unconsciousness of admira- 
 tion, the mingled modesty and sense of the expression. No, 
 I have seen women more beautiful, but I never saw one more 
 lovely: you are silent; I expected some burst of patriotism 
 in return for my compliment to your countrywoman ! " 
 
 " But I am so absorbed in that wonderful Pasta "
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 279 
 
 "You are no such thing; your thoughts are far away. But 
 can you tell me anything about my fair stranger and her 
 friends? In the first place, there is a Lord Doltimore, whom 
 I knew before you need say nothing about him ; in the next 
 there is his new married bride, handsome, dark but you are 
 not well ! " 
 
 "It was the draught from the door; go on, I beseech you, 
 the young lady, the friend, her name?" 
 
 "Her name I do not remember; but she was engaged to be 
 married to one of your statesmen, Lord Vargrave; the mar- 
 riage is broken off I know not if that be the cause of a cer- 
 tain melancholy in her countenance, a melancholy I am sure 
 not natural to its Hebe-like expression. But who have just 
 entered the opposite box? Ah, Mr. Maltravers, do look, 
 there is the beautiful English girl!" 
 
 And Maltravers raised his eyes, and once more beheld the 
 countenance of Evelyn Cameron!
 
 BOOK VII. 
 
 Avuriffis ayvuit \6yuv 
 
 fade. SOPHOCLES : (Ed. Tyr. 681. 
 
 Words of dark import gave suspicion birth. POTTEK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Luce. Is the wind there * 
 That makes for me. 
 /sat. Come, I forget a business. 
 
 Wit without Mcney. 
 
 LORD VARGEAVE'S travelling-carriage was at his door, and 
 he himself was putting on his greatcoat in his library, when 
 Lord Saxingham entered. 
 
 "What! you are going into the country?" 
 
 "Yes; I wrote you word, to see Lisle Court." 
 
 "Ay, true; I had forgot. Somehow or other my memory 
 is not so good as it was. But, let me see, Lisle Court is in 
 shire. Why, you will pass within ten miles of C ." 
 
 " C ! Shall I? I am not much versed in the geography 
 
 of England, never learned it at school. As for Poland, 
 Kamschatka, Mexico, Madagascar, or any other place as to 
 which knowledge would be useful, I have every inch of the 
 
 way at my finger's end. But a propos of C , it is the 
 
 town in which my late uncle made his fortune." 
 
 "Ah, so it is. I recollect you were to have stood for 
 
 C , but gave it up to Staunch; very handsome in you. 
 
 Have you any interest there still ? " 
 
 "I think my ward has some tenants, a street or two, 
 one called Richard Street, and the other Templeton Place. I
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 281 
 
 had intended some weeks ago to have gone down there, and 
 seen what interest was still left to our family; but Staunch 
 himself told me that C was a sure card." 
 
 " So he thought ; but he has been with me this morning in 
 great alarm : he now thinks he shall be thrown out. A Mr. 
 Winsley, who has a great deal of interest there, and was a 
 
 supporter of his, hangs back on account of the question. 
 
 This is unlucky, as Staunch is quite with us ; and if he were 
 to rat now it would be most unfortunate." 
 
 "Winsley! Winsley! my poor uncle's right-hand man. 
 A great brewer, always chairman of the Templeton Com- 
 mittee. I know the name, though I never saw the man." 
 
 "If you could take C in your way?" 
 
 "To be sure. Staunch must not be lost. We cannot throw 
 away a single vote, much more one of such weight, eighteen 
 
 stone at the least! I '11 stop at C on pretence of seeing 
 
 after my ward's houses, and have a quiet conference with Mr. 
 Winsley. Hem! Peers must not interfere in elections, eh? 
 Well, good-by: take care of yourself. I shall be back in a 
 week, I hope, perhaps less." 
 
 In a minute more Lord Vargrave and Mr. George Frederick 
 Augustus Howard, a slim young gentleman of high birth and 
 connections, but who, having, as a portionless cadet, his own 
 way to make in the world, condescended to be his lordship's 
 private secretary, were rattling over the streets the first stage 
 toC . 
 
 It was late at night when Lord Vargrave arrived at the head 
 inn of that grave and respectable cathedral city, in which 
 once Richard Templeton, Esq., saint, banker, and politi- 
 cian, had exercised his dictatorial sway. " Sic transit 
 gloria mundi ! " As he warmed his hands by the fire in the 
 large wainscoted apartment into which he was shown, his eye 
 met a full length engraving of his uncle, with a roll of papers 
 in his hand, meant for a parliamentary bill for the turnpike 
 
 trusts in the neighbourhood of C . The sight brought 
 
 back his .recollections of that pious and saturnine relation, 
 and insensibly the minister's thoughts flew to his death-bed, 
 and to the strange secret which in that last hour he had
 
 282 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 revealed to Lumley, a secret which had done much in deep- 
 ening Lord Vargrave's contempt for the forms and conven- 
 tionalities of decorous life. And here it may be mentioned 
 though in the course of this volume a penetrating reader 
 may have guessed as much that, whatever that secret, it 
 did not refer expressly or exclusively to the late lord's sin- 
 gular and ill-assorted marriage. Upon that point much was 
 still left obscure to arouse Lumley's curiosity, had he been a 
 man whose curiosity was very vivacious. But on this he felt 
 but little interest. He knew enough to believe that no further 
 information could benefit himself personally; why should he 
 trouble his head with what never would fill his pockets? 
 
 An audible yawn from the slim secretary roused Lord Var- 
 grave from his revery. 
 
 " I envy you, my young friend, " said he, good-humouredly . 
 "It is a pleasure we lose as we grow older, that of being 
 sleepy. However, ' to bed, ' as Lady Macbeth says. Faith, I 
 don't wonder the poor devil of a thane was slow in going to 
 bed with such a tigress. Good-night to you." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MA fortune va prendre une face nouvelle. 1 
 
 RACINE Androm., Act i. sc. 1. 
 
 THE next morning Vargrave inquired the way to Mr. 
 Winsley's, and walked alone to the house of the brewer. 
 The slim secretary went to inspect the cathedral. 
 
 Mr. Winsley was a little, thickset man, with a civil but 
 blunt electioneering manner. He started when he heard Lord 
 Vargrave's name, and bowed with great stiffness. Vargrave 
 saw at a glance that there was some cause of grudge in the 
 
 * " My fortune is about to take a turn."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 283 
 
 mind of the worthy man; nor did Mr. Winsley long hesitate 
 before he cleansed his bosom of its perilous stuff. 
 
 "This is an unexpected honour, my lord: I don't know how 
 to account for it." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Winsley, your friendship with my late uncle 
 can, perhaps, sufficiently explain and apologize for a visit 
 from a nephew sincerely attached to his memory." 
 
 "Humph! I certainly did do all in my power to promote 
 Mr. Templeton's interests. No man, I may say, did more; 
 and yet I don't think it was much thought of the moment he 
 
 turned his back upon the electors of C . Not that I bear 
 
 any malice ; I am well to do, and value no man's favour, no 
 man's, my lord ! " 
 
 " You amaze me ! I always heard my poor uncle speak of 
 you in the highest terms." 
 
 "Oh, well, it don't signify; pray say no more of it. Can I 
 offer your lordship a glass of wine?" 
 
 " No, I am much obliged to you ; but we really must set this 
 little matter right. You know that after his marriage my 
 
 uncle never revisited C ; and that shortly before his 
 
 death he sold the greater part of his interest in this city. 
 His young wife, I suppose, liked the neighbourhood of Lon- 
 don; and when elderly gentlemen do marry, you know they 
 are no longer their own masters ; but if you had ever come to 
 Fulham ah! then, indeed, my uncle would have rejoiced 
 to see his old friend." 
 
 "Your lordship thinks so," said Mr. Winsley with a sar- 
 donic smile. " You are mistaken ; I did call at Fulham ; and 
 though I sent in my card, Lord Vargrave's servant (he was 
 then My Lord) brought back word that his lordship was not 
 at home." 
 
 "But that must have been true; he was out, you may 
 depend on it." 
 
 "I saw him at the window, my lord," said Mr. Winsley, 
 taking a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " Oh, the deuce ! I 'm in for it," thought Lumley. "Very 
 strange, indeed! but how can you account for it? Ah, per- 
 haps the health of Lady Vargrave she was so very delicate
 
 284 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 then, and my poor uncle lived for her you know that he left 
 all his fortune to Miss Cameron? " 
 
 "Miss Cameron! Who is she, my lord?" 
 
 "Why, his daughter-in-law; Lady Vargrave was a widow, 
 
 a Mrs. Cameron." 
 
 " Mrs. Cam I remember now, they put Cameron in 
 the newspapers; but I thought it was a mistake. But, per- 
 haps " (added Winsley, with a sneer of peculiar malignity), 
 
 " perhaps, when your worthy uncle thought of being a peer, 
 he did not like to have it known that he married so much 
 beneath him." 
 
 " You quite mistake, my dear sir ; my uncle never denied 
 that Mrs. Cameron was a lady of no fortune or connections, 
 
 widow to some poor Scotch gentleman, who died I think 
 in India." 
 
 " He left her very ill off, poor thing ; but she had a great 
 deal of merit, and worked hard; she taught my girls to 
 play-" 
 
 "Your girls! did Mrs. Cameron ever reside in C ?" 
 
 " To be sure ; but she was then called Mrs. Butler just as 
 pretty a name to my fancy." 
 
 " You must make a mistake : my uncle married this lady in 
 Devonshire." 
 
 "Very possibly," quoth the brewer, doggedly. "Mrs. 
 Butler left the town with her little girl some time before 
 Mr. Templeton married." 
 
 "Well, you are wiser than I am," said Lumley, forcing a 
 smile. " But how can you be sure that Mrs. Butler and Mrs. 
 Cameron are one and the same person? You did not go into 
 the house, you could not have seen Lady Vargrave " (and here 
 Lumley shrewdly guessed if the tale were true at the 
 cause of his uncle's exclusion of his old acquaintance). 
 
 "No! but I saw her ladyship on the lawn," said Mr. 
 Winsley, with another sardonic smile; "and I asked the 
 porter at the lodge as I went out if that was Lady Vargrave, 
 and he said, ' yes.' However, my lord, bygones are bygones, 
 
 I bear no malice; your uncle was a good man: and if he 
 had but said to me, ' Winsley, don't say a word about Mrs.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 285 
 
 Butler, ' he might have reckoned on me just as much as when 
 in his elections he used to put five thousand pounds in my 
 hands, and say, ' Winsley, no bribery, it is wicked ; let this 
 be given in charity. ' Did any one ever know how that money 
 went? Was your uncle ever accused of corruption? But, my 
 lord, surely you will take some refreshment? " 
 
 "No, indeed; but if you will let me dine with you to-mor- 
 row, you '11 oblige me much; and, whatever my uncle's faults 
 (and latterly, poor man, he was hardly in his senses ; what a 
 will he made!) let not the nephew suffer for them. Come, 
 Mr. Winsley," and Lumley held out his hand with enchant-- 
 ing frankness, "you know my motives are disinterested; I 
 have no parliamentary interest to serve, we have no constitu- 
 ents for our Hospital of Incurables ; and oh ! that 's right, 
 we 're friends, I see ! Now I must go and look after my 
 ward's houses. Let me see, the agent's name is is " 
 
 "Perkins, I think, my lord," said Mr. Winsley, thoroughly 
 softened by the charm of Vargrave's words and manner. " Let 
 me put on my hat, and show you his house." 
 
 "Will you? That's very kind; give me all the election 
 news by the way you know I was once within an ace of 
 being your member." 
 
 Vargrave learned from his new friend some further particu- 
 lars relative to Mrs. Butler's humble habits and homely mode of 
 
 life at C , which served completely to explain to him why 
 
 his proud and worldly uncle had so carefully abstained from 
 all intercourse with that city, and had prevented the nephew 
 from standing for its vacant representation. It seemed, how- 
 ever, that Winsley whose resentment was not of a very 
 active or violent kind had not communicated the discovery 
 he had made to his fellow townspeople; but had contented 
 himself with hints and aphorisms, whenever he had heard the 
 subject of Mr. Templeton's marriage discussed, which had led 
 the gossips of the place to imagine that he had made a much 
 worse selection than he really had. As to the accuracy of 
 Winsley's assertion, Vargrave, though surprised at first, had 
 but little doubt on consideration, especially when he heard 
 that Mrs. Butler's principal patroness had been the Mrs.
 
 286 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Leslie, now the intimate friend of Lady Vargrave. But what 
 had been the career, what the earlier condition and struggles 
 of this simple and interesting creature? With her appear- 
 ance at C , commenced all that surmise could invent. Not 
 
 greater was the mystery that wrapped the apparition of Manco 
 Capac by the lake Titiaca, than that which shrouded the places 
 and the trials whence the lowly teacher of music had emerged 
 amidst the streets of C . 
 
 Weary, and somewhat careless, of conjecture, Lord Var- 
 grave, in dining with Mr. Winsley, turned the conversation 
 upon the business on which he had principally undertaken his 
 journey, namely, the meditated purchase of Lisle Court. 
 
 " I myself am not a very good judge of landed property, " 
 said Vargrave; "I wish I knew of an experienced surveyor 
 to look over the farms and timber: can you help me to such 
 a one?" 
 
 Mr. Winsley smiled, and glanced at a rosy-cheeked young 
 lady, who simpered and turned away. " I think my daughter 
 could recommend one to your lordship, if she dared." 
 
 "Oh, Pa!" 
 
 " I see. Well, Miss Winsley, I will take no recommendation 
 but yours." 
 
 Miss Winsley made an effort. 
 
 " Indeed, my lord, I have always heard Mr. Robert Hobbs 
 considered very clever in his profession." 
 
 "Mr. Robert Hobbs is my man! His good health and a 
 fair wife to him." 
 
 Miss Winsley glanced at Mamma, and then at a younger 
 sister; and then there was a titter, and then a fluttering, and 
 then a rising, and Mr. Winsley, Lord Vargrave, and the slim 
 secretary were left alone. 
 
 "Really, my lord," said the host, resettling himself, and 
 pushing the wine, " though you have guessed our little family 
 arrangement, and I have some interest in the recommenda- 
 tion, since Margaret will be Mrs. Robert Hobbs in a few 
 weeks, yet I do not know a more acute, intelligent young man 
 anywhere. Highly respectable, with an independent fortune ; 
 his father is lately dead, and made at least thirty thousand
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 287 
 
 pounds in trade. His brother Edward is also dead; so he 
 has the bulk of the property, and he follows his profes- 
 sion merely for amusement. He would consider it a great 
 honour. " 
 
 "And where does he live?" 
 
 "Oh, not in this county, a long way off; close to ; 
 
 but it is all in your lordship's road. A very nice house he 
 has, too. I have known his family since I was a boy; it is 
 astonishing how his father improved the place, it was a 
 poor little lath-and-plaster cottage when the late Mr. Hobbs 
 bought it, and it is now a very excellent family house." 
 
 " Well, you shall give me the address and a letter of intro- 
 duction, and so much for that matter. But to return to poli- 
 tics ; " and here Lord Vargrave ran eloquently on, till Mr. 
 Winsley thought him the only man in the world who could 
 save the country from that utter annihilation, the possibility 
 of which he had never even suspected before. 
 
 It may be as well to add, that, on wishing Lord Vargrave 
 good-night, Mr. Winsley whispered in his ear, "Your lord- 
 ship's friend, Lord Staunch, need be under no apprehension, 
 we are all right ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THIS is the house, sir. Love's Pilgrimage, Act iv. sc. 2. 
 Redennt Saturnia regna. 1 VIRGIL. 
 
 THE next morning, Lumley and his slender companion were 
 rolling rapidly over the same road on which, sixteen years 
 ago, way-worn and weary, Alice Darvil had first met with 
 Mrs. Leslie; they were talking about a new opera-dancer as 
 they whirled by the very spot. 
 
 1 " A former state of things returns."
 
 288 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES; 
 
 It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, the next day, 
 when the carriage stopped at a cast-iron gate, on which was 
 inscribed this epigraph, "Hobbs' lodge Ring the Bell." 
 
 "A snug place enough," said Lord Vargrave, as they were 
 waiting the arrival of the footman to unbar the gate. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Howard. "If a retired Cit could be trans- 
 formed into a house, such is the house he would be." 
 
 Poor Dale Cottage, the home of Poetry and Passion ! But 
 change visits the Commonplace as well as the Romantic. Since 
 Alice had pressed to that cold grating her wistful eyes, time 
 had wrought his allotted revolutions; the old had died, the 
 young grown up. Of the children playing on the lawn, death 
 had claimed some, and marriage others, and the holiday of 
 youth was gone for all. 
 
 The servant opened the gate. Mr. Robert Hobbs was at 
 home ; he had friends with him, he was engaged ; Lord 
 Vargrave sent in his card, and the introductory letter from 
 Mr. Winsley. In two seconds, these missives brought to the 
 gate Mr. Robert Hobbs himself, a smart young man, with a 
 black stock, red whiskers, and an eye-glass pendant to a hair- 
 chain which was possibly a gage d'amour from Miss Margaret 
 Winsley. 
 
 A profusion of bows, compliments, apologies, etc., the 
 carriage drove up the sweep, and Lord Vargrave descended, 
 and was immediately ushered into Mr. Hobbs's private room. 
 The slim secretary followed, and sat silent, melancholy, and 
 upright, while the peer affably explained his wants and wishes 
 to the surveyor. 
 
 Mr. Hobbs was well acquainted with the locality of Lisle 
 Court, which was little more than thirty miles distant: he 
 should be proud to accompany Lord Vargrave thither the next 
 morning. But, might he venture, might he dare, might he 
 
 presume a gentleman who lived at the town of was to 
 
 dine with him that day; a gentleman of the most profound 
 knowledge of agricultural affairs; a gentleman who knew 
 every farm, almost every acre, belonging to Colonel Mal- 
 travers; if his lordship could be induced to waive ceremony, 
 and dine with Mr. Hobbs, it might be really useful to meet
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 289 
 
 this gentleman. The slim secretary, who was very hungry, 
 and who thought he sniffed an uncommonly savoury smell, 
 looked up from his boots. Lord Vargrave smiled. 
 
 "My young friend here is too great an admirer of Mrs. 
 Hobbs who is to be not to feel anxious to make the 
 acquaintance of any member of the family she is to enter." 
 
 Mr. George Frederick Augustus Howard blushed indignant 
 refutation of the calumnious charge. Vargrave continued, 
 
 "As for me, I shall be delighted to meet any friends of 
 yours, and am greatly obliged for your consideration. We 
 may dismiss the postboys, Howard; and what time shall we 
 summon them, ten o'clock?" 
 
 " If your lordship would condescend to accept a bed, we can 
 accommodate your lordship and this gentleman, and start at 
 any hour in the morning that " 
 
 "So be it," interrupted Vargrave. "You speak like a man 
 of business. Howard, be so kind as to order the horses for 
 six o'clock to-morrow. We '11 breakfast at Lisle Court." 
 
 This matter settled, Lord Vargrave and Mr. Howard were 
 shown into their respective apartments. Travelling dresses 
 were changed, the dinner put back, and the fish over-boiled ; 
 but what mattered common fish, when Mr. Hobbs had just 
 caught such a big one? Of what consequence he should be 
 henceforth and ever! A peer, a minister, a stranger to the 
 county, to come all this way to consult him ! to be his 
 guest! to be shown off, and patted, and trotted out before all 
 the rest of the company! Mr. Hobbs was a made man! 
 Careless of all this, ever at home with any one, and de- 
 lighted, perhaps, to escape a tete-a-tete with Mr. Howard in 
 a strange inn, Vargrave lounged into the drawing-room, and 
 was formally presented to the expectant family and the fam- 
 ishing guests. 
 
 During the expiring bachelorship of Mr. Eobert Hobbs, his 
 sister, Mrs. Tiddy (to whom the reader was first introduced as 
 a bride gathering the wisdom of economy and large joints 
 from the frugal lips of her mamma), officiated as lady of the 
 house, a comely matron, and well-preserved, except that 
 she had lost a front tooth, in a jaundiced satinet gown, with 
 
 19
 
 290 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 a fall of British blonde, and a tucker of the same, Mr. Tiddy 
 being a starch man, and not willing that the luxuriant charms 
 of Mrs. T. should be too temptingly exposed! There was 
 also Mr. Tiddy, whom his wife had married for love, and who 
 was now well to do, a fine-looking man, with large whiskers, 
 and a Roman nose, a little awry. Moreover, there was a Miss 
 Biddy or Bridget Hobbs, a young lady of four or rive and 
 twenty, who was considering whether she might ask Lord 
 Vargrave to write something in her album, and who cast a 
 bashful look of admiration at the slim secretary, as he now 
 sauntered into the room, in a black coat, black waistcoat, 
 black trousers, and a black neckcloth, with a black pin, 
 looking much like an ebony cane split half-way up. Miss 
 Biddy was a fair young lady, a leetle faded, with uncommonly 
 thin arms and white satin shoes, on which the slim secretary 
 cast his eyes and shuddered ! 
 
 In addition to the family group were the Rector of , 
 
 an agreeable man, who published sermons and poetry; also 
 Sir William Jekyll, who was employing Mr. Hobbs to make 
 a map of an estate he had just purchased; also two country 
 squires and their two wives ; moreover, the physician of the 
 neighbouring town, a remarkably tall man, who wore spec- 
 tacles and told anecdotes; and, lastly, Mr. Onslow, the gen- 
 tleman to whom Mr. Hobbs had referred, an elderly man of 
 prepossessing exterior, of high repute as the most efficient 
 magistrate, the best farmer, and the most sensible person in 
 the neighbourhood. This made the party, to each individual 
 of which the great man bowed and smiled; and the great 
 man's secretary bent, condescendingly, three joints of his 
 backbone. 
 
 The bell was now rung, dinner announced. Sir William 
 Jekyll led the way with one of the she-squires, and Lord Var- 
 grave offered his arm to the portly Mrs. Tiddy. 
 
 Vargrave, as usual, was the life of the feast. Mr. Howard, 
 who sat next to Miss Bridget, conversed with her between 
 the courses, "in dumb show." Mr. Onslow and the physi- 
 cian played second and third to Lord Vargrave. When the 
 dinner was over, and the ladies had retired, Vargrave found
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 291 
 
 himself seated next to Mr. On slow, and discovered in his 
 neighbour a most agreeable companion. They talked princi- 
 pally about Lisle Court, and from Colonel Maltravers the con- 
 versation turned naturally upon Ernest. . Vargrave proclaimed 
 his early intimacy with the latter gentleman, complained, feel- 
 ingly, that politics had divided them of late, and told two or 
 three anecdotes of their youthful adventures in the East. Mr. 
 Onslow listened to him with much attention. 
 
 "I made the acquaintance of Mr. Maltravers many years 
 ago," said he, "and upon a very delicate occasion. I was 
 greatly interested in him; I never saw one so young (for he 
 was then but a boy) manifest feelings so deep. By the dates 
 you have referred to, your acquaintance with him must have 
 commenced very shortly after mine. Was he at that time 
 cheerful, in good spirits?" 
 
 "No, indeed; hypochondriacal to the greatest degree." 
 
 "Your lordship's intimacy with him, and the confidence 
 that generally exists between young men, induce me to sup- 
 pose that he may have told you a little romance connected 
 with his early years." 
 
 Lumley paused to consider; and this conversation, which 
 had been carried on apart, was suddenly broken into by the 
 tall doctor, who wanted to know whether his lordship had 
 ever heard the anecdote about Lord Thurlow and the late 
 king. The anecdote was as long as the doctor himself; and 
 when it was over, the gentlemen adjourned to the drawing- 
 room, and all conversation was immediately drowned by 
 "Row, brothers, row," which had only been suspended till 
 the arrival of Mr. Tiddy, who had a fine bass voice. 
 
 Alas ! eighteen years ago, in that spot of earth, Alice Darvil 
 had first caught the soul of music from the lips of Genius and 
 of Love! But better as it is, less romantic, but more 
 proper, as Hobbs' Lodge was less pretty, but more safe 
 from the winds and rains, than Dale Cottage. 
 
 Miss Bridget ventured to ask the good-humoured Lord Var- 
 grave if he sang. " Not I, Miss Hobbs ; but Howard, there ! 
 ah, if you heard him ! " The consequence of this hint was, 
 that the unhappy secretary, who, alone, in a distant corner,
 
 292 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 was unconsciously refreshing his fancy with some cool weak 
 coffee, was instantly beset with applications from Miss Bridget, 
 Mrs. Tiddy, Mr. Tiddy, and the tall doctor, to favour the com- 
 pany with a specimen of his talents. Mr. Howard could sing, 
 he could even play the guitar. But to sing at Hobbs' Lodge, 
 to sing to the accompaniment of Mrs. Tiddy, to have his gentle 
 tenor crushed to death in a glee by the heavy splayfoot of Mr. 
 Tiddy 's manly bass the thought was insufferable! He fal- 
 tered forth assurances of his ignorance, and hastened to bury 
 his resentment in the retirement of a remote sofa. Vargrave, 
 who had forgotten the significant question of Mr. Onslow, re- 
 newed in a whisper his conversation with that gentleman rela- 
 tive to the meditated investment, while Mr. and Mrs. Tiddy 
 sang "Come dwell with me;" and Onslow was so pleased 
 with his new acquaintance, that he volunteered to make a 
 fourth in Lumley's carriage the next morning, and accompany 
 him to Lisle Court. This settled, the party soon afterwards 
 broke up. At midnight Lord Vargrave was fast asleep ; and 
 Mr. Howard, tossing restlessly to and fro on his melancholy 
 couch, was revolving all the hardships that await a native of 
 St. James's, who ventures forth among 
 
 " The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
 Do grow beneath their shoulders ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BUT how were these doubts to be changed into absolute certainty ? 
 
 EDGAR HUNTLEY. 
 
 THE next morning, while it was yet dark, Lord Vargrave's 
 carriage picked up Mr. Onslow at the door of a large old- 
 fashioned house, at the entrance of the manufacturing town 
 
 of . The party were silent and sleepy till they arrived 
 
 at Lisle Court. The sun had then appeared, the morning was
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 293 
 
 clear, the air frosty and bracing; and as, after traversing a 
 noble park, a superb quadrangular pile of brick flanked by 
 Luge square turrets coped with stone broke upon the gaze 
 of Lord Vargrave, his worldly heart swelled within him, 
 and the image of Evelyn became inexpressibly lovely and 
 seductive. 
 
 Though the housekeeper was not prepared for Vargrave's 
 arrival at so early an hour, yet he had been daily expected : 
 the logs soon burned bright in the ample hearth of the break- 
 fast-room; the urn hissed, the cutlets smoked; and while the 
 rest of the party gathered round the fire, and unmuffled them- 
 selves of cloaks and shawl-handkerchiefs, Vargrave seized 
 upon the housekeeper, traversed with delighted steps the 
 magnificent suite of rooms, gazed on the pictures, admired 
 the state bed-chambers, peeped into the offices, and recog- 
 nized in all a mansion worthy of a Peer of England, but 
 which a more prudent man would have thought, with a sigh, 
 required careful management of the rent-roll raised from the 
 property adequately to equip and maintain. Such an idea 
 did not cross the mind of Vargrave; he only thought how 
 much he should be honoured and envied, when, as Secretary 
 of State, he should yearly fill those feudal chambers with the 
 pride and rank of England ! It was characteristic of the ex- 
 traordinary sanguineness and self-confidence of Vargrave, that 
 he entirely overlooked one slight obstacle to this prospect, in 
 the determined refusal of Evelyn to accept that passionate 
 homage which he offered to her fortune ! 
 
 When breakfast was over the steward was called in, and 
 the party, mounted upon ponies, set out to reconnoitre. After 
 spending the short day most agreeably in looking over the gar- 
 dens, pleasure-grounds, park, and home-farm, and settling to 
 visit the more distant parts of the property the next day, the 
 party were returning home to dine, when Vargrave's eye 
 caught the glittering whim of Sir Gregory Gubbins. 
 
 He pointed it out to Mr. Onslow, and laughed much at 
 hearing of the annoyance it occasioned to Colonel Maltravers. 
 "Thus," said Lumley, "do we all crumple the rose-leaf under 
 us, and quarrel with couches the most luxuriant! As for me,
 
 294 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 I will wager, that were this property mine, or my ward's, in 
 three weeks we should have won the heart of Sir Gregory, 
 made him pull down his whim, and coaxed him out of his 
 
 interest in the city of . A good seat for you, Howard, 
 
 some day or other." 
 
 "Sir Gregory has prodigiously bad taste," said Mr. Hobbs. 
 " For my part, I think that there ought to be a certain modest 
 simplicity in the display of wealth got in business, that was 
 my poor father's maxim." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Vargrave, " Hobbs' Lodge is a specimen. Who 
 was your predecessor in that charming retreat?" 
 
 "Why, the place then called Dale Cottage belonged to 
 a Mr. Berners, a rich bachelor in business, who was rich 
 enough not to mind what people said of him, and kept a lady 
 there. She ran off from him, and he then let it to some 
 young man a stranger, very eccentric, I hear a Mr. Mr. 
 Butler and he, too, gave the cottage an unlawful attraction, 
 a most beautiful girl, I have heard." 
 
 " Butler ! " echoed Vargrave, " Butler ! Butler ! " Lumley 
 recollected that such had been the real name of Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 Onslow looked hard at Vargrave. 
 
 "You recognize the name, my lord," said he in a whisper, 
 as Hobbs had turned to address himself to Mr. Howard. " I 
 thought you very discreet when I asked you, last night, if 
 you remembered the early follies of your friend." A suspi- 
 cion at once flashed upon the quick mind of Vargrave : Butler 
 was a name on the mother's side in the family of Maltravers ; 
 the gloom of Ernest when he first knew him, the boy's hints 
 that the gloom was connected with the affections, the extraor- 
 dinary and single accomplishment of Lady Vargrave in that 
 art of which Maltravers was so consummate a master, the sim- 
 ilarity of name, all taken in conjunction with the meaning 
 question of Mr. Onslow, were enough to suggest to Vargrave 
 that he might be on the verge of a family secret, the know- 
 ledge of which could be turned to advantage. He took care 
 not to confess his ignorance, but artfully proceeded to draw 
 out Mr. Onslow's communications. 
 
 "Why, it is true," said he, "that Maltravers and I had no
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 295 
 
 secrets. Ah, we were wild fellows then! The name of Butler 
 is in his family, eh? " 
 
 "It is. I see you know all." 
 
 " Yes ; he told me the story, but it is eighteen years ago. 
 Do refresh my memory. Howard, my good fellow, just ride 
 on and expedite dinner: Mr. Hobbs, will you go with Mr. 
 What's-his-name, the steward, and look over the maps, out- 
 goings, etc.? Now, Mr. Onslow so Maltravers took the 
 cottage, and a lady with it? ay, I remember." 
 
 Mr. Onslow (who was in fact that magistrate to whom 
 Ernest had confided his name and committed the search after 
 Alice, and who was really anxious to know if any tidings of 
 the poor girl had ever been ascertained) here related that his- 
 tory with which the reader is acquainted, the robbery of the 
 cottage, the disappearance of Alice, the suspicions that con- 
 nected that disappearance with her ruffian father, the despair 
 and search of Maltravers. He added that Ernest, both before 
 his departure from England, and on his return, had written to 
 him to learn if Alice had ever been heard of; the replies of 
 the magistrate were unsatisfactory. " And do you think, my 
 lord, that Mr. Maltravers has never to this day ascertained 
 what became of the poor young woman? " 
 
 "Why, let me see, what was her name?" 
 
 The magistrate thought a moment, and replied, "Alice 
 Darvil." 
 
 " Alice ! " exclaimed Vargrave. " Alice ! " aware that 
 such was the Christian name of his uncle's wife, and now 
 almost convinced of the truth of his first vague suspicion. 
 
 " You seem to know the name? " 
 
 " Of Alice ; yes but not Darvil. No, no ; I believe he has 
 never heard of the girl to this hour. Nor you either? " 
 
 " I have not. One little circumstance related to me by Mr. 
 Hobbs, your surveyor's father, gave me some uneasiness. 
 About two years after the young woman disappeared, a girl, 
 of very humble dress and appearance, stopped at the gate of 
 Hobbs' Lodge, and asked earnestly for Mr. Butler. On hear- 
 ing he was gone, she turned away, and was seen no more. It 
 seems that this girl had an infant in her arms which rather
 
 296 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 shocked the propriety of Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs. The old gen- 
 tleman told me the circumstance a few days after it hap- 
 pened, and I caused inquiry to be made for the stranger; but 
 she could not be discovered. I thought at first this possibly 
 might be the lost Alice; but I learned that, during his stay 
 at the cottage, your friend despite his error, which we will 
 not stop to excuse had exercised so generous and wide a 
 charity amongst the poor in the town and neighbourhood, that 
 it was a more probable supposition of the two that the girl 
 belonged to some family he had formerly relieved, and her 
 visit was that of a mendicant, not a mistress. Accordingly, 
 after much consideration, I resolved not to mention the cir- 
 cumstances to Mr. Maltravers, when he wrote to me on his 
 return from the Continent. A considerable time had then 
 elapsed since the girl had applied to Mr. Hobbs ; all trace of 
 her was lost ; the incident might open wounds that time must 
 have nearly healed, might give false hopes or, what was 
 worse, occasion a fresh and unfounded remorse at the idea of 
 Alice's destitution; it would, in fact, do no good, and might 
 occasion unnecessary pain. I therefore suppressed all men- 
 tion of it." 
 
 "You did right: and so the poor girl had an infant in her 
 arms? humph! What sort of looking person was this Alice 
 Darvil, pretty, of course?" 
 
 "I never saw her; and none but the persons employed in 
 the premises knew her by sight; they described her as remark- 
 ably lovely." 
 
 "Fair and slight, with blue eyes, I suppose? those are 
 the orthodox requisites of a heroine." 
 
 "Upon my word I forget; indeed I should never have 
 remembered as much as I do, if the celebrity of Mr. Mal- 
 travers, and the consequence of his family in these parts, 
 together with the sight of his own agony the most painful 
 I ever witnessed had not served to impress the whole affair 
 very deeply on my mind." 
 
 " Was the girl who appeared at the gate of Hobbs' Lodge 
 described to you? " 
 
 "No; they scarcely observed her countenance, except that
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 297 
 
 her complexion was too fair for a gypsy's; yet, now I think of 
 it, Mrs. Tiddy, who was with her father when he told me the 
 adventure, dwelt particularly on her having (as you so pleas- 
 antly conjecture) fair hair and blue eyes. Mrs. Tiddy, being 
 just married, was romantic at that day." 
 
 " Well, it is an odd tale ; but life is full of odd tales. Here 
 we are at the house ; it really is a splendid old place ! " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 PENDENT opera interrupta. 1 VIRGIL. 
 
 THE history Vargrave had heard he revolved much when 
 he retired to rest. He could not but allow that there was still 
 little ground for more than conjecture that Alice Darvil and 
 Alice Lady Vargrave were one and the same person. It 
 might, however, be of great importance to him to trace this 
 conjecture to certainty. The knowledge of a secret of early 
 sin and degradation in one so pure, so spotless, as Lady Var- 
 grave, might be of immense service in giving him a power 
 over her, which he could turn to account with Evelyn. How 
 could he best prosecute further inquiry, by repairing at 
 once to Brook-Green, or the thought struck him by visit- 
 ing and "pumping" Mrs. Leslie, the patroness of Mrs. Butler, 
 
 of C , the friend of Lady Vargrave? It was worth trying 
 
 the latter, it was little out of his way back to London. His 
 success in picking the brains of Mr. Onslow of a secret en- 
 couraged him in the hope of equal success with Mrs. Leslie. 
 He decided accordingly, and fell asleep to dream of Christ- 
 mas battues, royal visitors, the Cabinet, the premiership! 
 Well, no possession equals the dream of it! Sleep on, my 
 lord ! you would be restless enough if you were to get all you 
 want. 
 
 1 " The things begun are interrupted and suspended."
 
 298 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 For the next three days, Lord Vargrave was employed in 
 examining the general outlines of the estate; and the result 
 of this survey satisfied him as to the expediency of the pur- 
 chase. On the third day, he was several miles from the 
 house when a heavy rain came on. Lord Vargrave was con- 
 stitutionally hardy, and not having been much exposed to 
 visitations of the weather of late years, was not practically 
 aware that when a man is past forty, he cannot endure with im- 
 punity all that falls innocuously on the elasticity of twenty- 
 six. He did not, therefore, heed the rain that drenched him 
 to the skin, and neglected to change his dress till he had 
 finished reading some letters and newspapers which awaited 
 his return at Lisle Court. The consequence of this impru- 
 dence was, that the next morning when he woke, Lord Var- 
 grave found himself, for almost the first time in his life, 
 seriously ill. His head ached violently, cold shiverings shook 
 his frame like an ague ; the very strength of the constitution 
 on which the fever had begun to fasten itself augmented its 
 danger. Lumley the last man in the world to think of the 
 possibility of dying fought up against his own sensations, 
 ordered his post-horses, as his visit of survey was now over, 
 and scarcely even alluded to his indisposition. About an 
 hour before he set off, his letters arrived; one of these in- 
 formed him that Caroline, accompanied by Evelyn, had 
 already arrived in Paris; the other was from Colonel 
 Legard, respectfully resigning his office, on the ground of 
 an accession of fortune by the sudden death of the admiral, 
 and his intention to spend the ensuing year in a Continental 
 excursion. This last letter occasioned Vargrave considerable 
 alarm; he had always felt a deep jealousy of the handsome 
 ex-guardsman, and he at once suspected that Legard was 
 about to repair to Paris as his rival. He sighed, and looked 
 round the spacious apartment, and gazed on the wide pros- 
 pects of grove and turf that extended from the window, and 
 said to himself, "Is another to snatch these from my grasp?" 
 His impatience to visit Mrs. Leslie, to gain ascendency over 
 Lady Vargrave, to repair to Paris, to scheme, to manoeuvre, 
 to triumph, accelerated the progress of the disease that was
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 299 
 
 now burning in his veins ; and the hand that he held out to 
 Mr. Hobbs, as he stepped into his carriage, almost scorched 
 the cold, plump, moist fingers of the surveyor. Before six 
 o'clock in the evening Lord Vargrave confessed reluctantly 
 to himself that he was too ill to proceed much farther. 
 "Howard," said he then, breaking a silence that had lasted 
 some hours, "don't be alarmed; I feel that I am about to 
 
 have a severe attack; I shall stop at M (naming a large 
 
 town they were approaching) ; I shall send for the best physi- 
 cian the place affords ; if I am delirious to-morrow, or unable 
 to give my own orders, have the kindness to send express for 
 Dr. Holland, but don't leave me yourself, my good fellow. 
 At my age, it is a hard thing to have no one in the world to 
 care for me in illness ; d n affection when I am well ! " 
 
 After this strange burst, which very much frightened Mr. 
 Howard, Lumley relapsed into silence, not broken till he 
 
 reached M . The best physician was sent for; and the 
 
 next morning, as he had half foreseen and foretold, Lord 
 Vargrave was delirious ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NOUGHT under Heaven so strongly doth allure 
 The sense of man, and all his mind possess, 
 As Beauty's love-bait. SPENSER. 
 
 LEGARD was, as I have before intimated, a young man of 
 generous and excellent dispositions, though somewhat spoiled 
 by the tenor of his education, and the gay and reckless society 
 which had administered tonics to his vanity and opiates to 
 his intellect. The effect which the beauty, the grace, the 
 innocence of Evelyn had produced upon him had been most 
 deep and most salutary. It had rendered dissipation tasteless 
 and insipid; it had made him look more deeply into his own 
 heart, and into the rules of life. Though, partly from the
 
 300 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 irksomeness of dependence upon an uncle at once generous 
 and ungracious, partly from a diffident and feeling sense of 
 his own inadequate pretensions to the hand of Miss Cameron, 
 and partly from the prior and acknowledged claims of Lord 
 Vargrave, he had accepted, half in despair, the appointment 
 offered to him, he still found it impossible to banish that 
 image which had been the first to engrave upon ardent and 
 fresh affections an indelible impression. He secretly chafed 
 at the thought that it was to a fortunate rival that he owed 
 the independence and the station he had acquired, and re- 
 solved to seize an early opportunity to free himself from obli- 
 gations that he deeply regretted he had incurred. At length 
 he learned that Lord Vargrave had been refused, that Eve- 
 lyn was free ; and within a few days from that intelligence, 
 the admiral was seized with apoplexy ; and Legard suddenly 
 found himself possessed, if not of wealth, at least of a com- 
 petence sufficient to redeem his character as a suitor from the 
 suspicion attached to a fortune-hunter and adventurer. De- 
 spite the new prospects opened to him by the death of his 
 uncle, and despite the surly caprice which had mingled with 
 and alloyed the old admiral's kindness, Legard was greatly 
 shocked by his death ; and his grateful and gentle nature was 
 at first only sensible to grief for the loss he had sustained. 
 But when, at last, recovering from his sorrow, he saw Evelyn 
 disengaged and free, and himself in a position honourably to 
 contest her hand, he could not resist the sweet and passionate 
 hopes that broke upon him. He resigned, as we have seen, 
 his official appointment, and set out for Paris. He reached 
 that city a day or two after the arrival of Lord and Lady 
 Doltimore. He found the former, who had not forgotten the 
 cautions of Vargrave, at first cold and distant; but partly 
 from the indolent habit of submitting to Legard's dictates on 
 matters of taste, partly from a liking to his society, and prin- 
 cipally from the popular suffrages of fashion, which had 
 always been accorded to Legard, and which were nowadays 
 diminished by the news of his accession of fortune, Lord 
 Doltimore, weak and vain, speedily yielded to the influences 
 of his old associate, and Legard became quietly installed as
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 301 
 
 the enfant de la mctison. Caroline was not in this instance a 
 very faithful ally to Vargrave's views and policy. In his 
 singular liaison with Lady Doltimore, the crafty manoeuvrer 
 had committed the vulgar fault of intriguers: he had over- 
 refined and had overreached himself. At the commencement 
 of their strange and unprincipled intimacy, Vargrave had had, 
 perhaps, no other thought than that of piquing Evelyn, con- 
 soling his vanity, amusing his ennui, and indulging rather his 
 propensities as a gallant than promoting his more serious 
 objects as a man of the world. By degrees, and especially at 
 Knaresdean, Vargrave himself became deeply entangled by an 
 affair that he had never before contemplated as more impor- 
 tant than a passing diversion ; instead of securing a friend to 
 assist him in his designs on Evelyn, he suddenly found that 
 he had obtained a mistress anxious for his love and jealous of 
 his homage. With his usual promptitude and self-confidence, 
 he was led at once to deliver himself of all the ill-consequences 
 of his rashness, to get rid of Caroline as a mistress, and to 
 retain her as a tool, by marrying her to Lord Doltimore. By 
 the great ascendency which his character acquired over her, 
 and by her own worldly ambition, he succeeded in inducing 
 her to sacrifice all romance to a union that gave her rank and 
 fortune; and Vargrave then rested satisfied that the clever 
 wife would not only secure him a permanent power over the 
 political influence and private fortune of the weak husband, 
 but also abet his designs in securing an alliance equally desir- 
 able for himself. Here it was that Vargrave's incapacity to 
 understand the refinements and scruples of a woman's affec- 
 tion and nature, however guilty the one, and however worldly 
 the other, foiled and deceived him. Caroline, though the wife 
 of another, could not contemplate without anguish a similar 
 bondage for her lover; and having something of the better 
 qualities of her sex still left to her, she recoiled from being 
 an accomplice in arts that were to drive the young, inexperi- 
 enced, and guileless creature who called her " friend " into the 
 arms of a man who openly avowed the most mercenary mo- 
 tives, and who took gods and men to witness that his heart 
 was sacred to another. Only in Vargrave's presence were
 
 302 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 these scruples overmastered; but the moment he was gone 
 they returned in full force. She had yielded, from positive 
 fear, to his commands that she should convey Evelyn to Paris ; 
 but she trembled to think of the vague hints and dark men- 
 aces that Vargrave had let fall as to ulterior proceedings, and 
 was distracted at the thought of being implicated in some 
 villanous or rash design. When, therefore, the man whose 
 rivalry Vargrave most feared was almost established at her 
 house, she made but a feeble resistance ; she thought that, if 
 Legard should become a welcome and accepted suitor before 
 Lumley arrived, the latter would be forced to forego whatever 
 hopes he yet cherished, and that she should be delivered from 
 a dilemma, the prospect of which daunted and appalled her. 
 Added to this, Caroline was now, alas! sensible that a fool is 
 not so easily governed; her resistance to an intimacy with 
 Legard would have been of little avail : Doltimore, in these 
 matters, had an obstinate will of his own; and, whatever 
 might once have been Caroline's influence over her liege, 
 certain it is that such influence had been greatly impaired 
 of late by the indulgence of a temper, always irritable, and 
 now daily more soured by regret, remorse, contempt for her 
 husband, and the melancholy discovery that fortune, youth, 
 beauty, and station are no talismans against misery. 
 
 It was the gayest season of Paris ; and to escape from her- 
 self, Caroline plunged eagerly into the vortex of its dissipa- 
 tions. If Doltimore's heart was disappointed, his vanity was 
 pleased at the admiration Caroline excited; and he himself 
 was of an age and temper to share in the pursuits and amuse- 
 ments of his wife. Into these gayeties, new to their fascina- 
 tion, dazzled by their splendour, the young Evelyn entered 
 with her hostess; and ever by her side was the unequalled 
 form of Legard. Each of them in the bloom of youth, each 
 of them at once formed to please, and to be pleased by that 
 fair Armida which we call the World, there was, necessarily, 
 a certain congeniality in their views and sentiments, their 
 occupations and their objects ; nor was there, in all that bril- 
 liant city, one more calculated to captivate the eye and fancy 
 than George Legard. But still, to a certain degree diffident
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 303 
 
 and fearful, Legard never yet spoke of love; nor did their 
 intimacy at this time ripen to that point in which Evelyn 
 could have asked herself if there were danger in the society 
 of Legard, or serious meaning in his obvious admiration. 
 Whether that melancholy, to which Lady Vargrave had al- 
 luded in her correspondence with Lumley, were occasioned 
 by thoughts connected with Maltravers, or unacknowledged 
 recollections of Legard, it remains for the acute reader him- 
 self to ascertain. 
 
 The Doltimores had been about three weeks in Paris ; and 
 for a fortnight of that time Legard had been their constant 
 guest, and half the inmate of their hotel, when, on that night 
 which has been commemorated in our last book, Maltravers 
 suddenly once more beheld the face of Evelyn, and in the 
 same hour learned that she was free. He quitted Valerie's 
 box; with a burning pulse and a beating heart, joy and sur- 
 prise and hope sparkling in his eyes and brightening his 
 whole aspect, he hastened to Evelyn's side. 
 
 It was at this time Legard, who sat behind Miss Cameron, 
 unconscious of the approach of a rival, happened by one of 
 those chances which occur in conversation to mention the 
 name of Maltravers. He asked Evelyn if she had yet 
 met him. 
 
 "What! is he, then, in Paris?" asked Evelyn, quickly. 
 "I heard, indeed," she continued, "that he left Burleigh for 
 Paris, but imagined he had gone on to Italy." 
 
 " No, he is still here ; but he goes, I believe, little into the 
 society Lady Doltimore chiefly visits. Is he one of your 
 favourites, Miss Cameron?" 
 
 There was a slight increase of colour in Evelyn's beautiful 
 cheek, as she answered, 
 
 " Is it possible not to admire and be interested in one so 
 gifted?" 
 
 "He has certainly noble and fine qualities," returned 
 Legard; "but I cannot feel at ease with him: a coldness, 
 a hauteur, a measured distance of manner, seem to forbid 
 even esteem. Yet / ought not to say so," he added, with a 
 pang of self-reproach.
 
 304 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "No, indeed, you ought not to say so," said Evelyn, shak- 
 ing her head with a pretty affectation of anger; "for I know 
 that you pretend to like what I like, and admire what I 
 admire; and I am an enthusiast in all that relates to Mr. 
 Maltravers ! " 
 
 " I know that I would wish to see all things in life through 
 Miss Cameron's eyes," whispered Legard, softly; and this was 
 the most meaning speech he had ever yet made. 
 
 Evelyn turned away, and seemed absorbed in the opera; 
 and at that instant the door of the box opened, and Maltravers 
 entered. 
 
 In her open, undisguised, youthful delight at seeing him 
 again, Maltravers felt, indeed, "as if Paradise were opened 
 in her face." In his own agitated emotions, he scarcely 
 noticed that Legard had risen and resigned his seat to him ; 
 he availed himself of the civility, greeted his old acquaint- 
 ance with a smile and a bow, and in a few minutes he was in 
 deep converse with Evelyn. 
 
 Never had he so successfully exerted the singular, the 
 master-fascination that he could command at will, the 
 more powerful from its contrast to his ordinary coldness. 
 In the very expression of his eyes, the very tone of his voice, 
 there was that in Maltravers, seen at his happier moments, 
 which irres : stibly interested and absorbed your attention: he 
 could make you forget everything but himself, and the rich, 
 easy, yet earnest eloquence, which gave colour to his language 
 and melody to his voice. In that hour of renewed intercourse 
 with one who had at first awakened, if not her heart, at least 
 her imagination and her deeper thoughts, certain it is that 
 even Legard was not missed. As she smiled and listened, 
 Evelyn dreamed not of the anguish she inflicted. Leaning 
 against the box, Legard surveyed the absorbed attention of 
 Evelyn, the adoring eyes of Maltravers, with that utter and 
 crushing wretchedness which no passion but jealousy, and 
 that only while it is yet a virgin agony, can bestow! He 
 had never before even dreamed of rivalry in such a quarter; 
 but there was that ineffable instinct, which lovers have, and 
 which so seldom errs, that told him at once that in Maltravers
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 305 
 
 was the greatest obstacle his passion could encounter. He 
 waited in hopes that Evelyn would take the occasion to turn 
 to him at least when the fourth act closed. She did not ; 
 and, unable to constrain his emotions, and reply to the small- 
 talk of Lord Doltimore, he abruptly quitted the box. 
 
 When the opera was over, Maltravers offered his arm to 
 Evelyn; she accepted it, and then she looked round for 
 Legard. He was gone. 
 
 20
 
 BOOK vm. 
 
 'n Zev, rl ftov Spaffcu ftef}ov\fvJa.t *tpt ; 
 
 Fate ! O Heaven ! what have ye then decreed ? 
 
 SOPHOCLES : (Ed. Tyr. 738. 
 
 aKpordrav 
 
 iapovfftv vw els dvd.yKcu>. Ibid, 874. 
 
 " Insolent pride . . . 
 
 The topmost crag of the great precipice 
 Surmounts to rush to ruin." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 . . . SHE is young, wise, fair, 
 
 In these to Nature she 's immediate heir. 
 
 . . . Honours best thrive 
 
 When rather from our acts we them derive 
 
 Than our foregoers ! All 's Well that Ends Well. 
 
 LETTER FROM ERNEST MALTRAVERS TO THE 
 HON. FREDERICK CLEVELAND. 
 
 EVELYN is free ; she is in Paris ; I have seen her, I see 
 her daily! 
 
 How true it is that we cannot make a philosophy of indiffer- 
 ence ! The affections are stronger than all our reasonings. We 
 must take them into our alliance, or they will destroy all our 
 theories of self-government. Such fools of fate are we, pass- 
 ing from system to system, from scheme to scheme, vainly
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 307 
 
 seeking to shut out passion and sorrow forgetting that they 
 are born within us and return to the soul as the seasons to 
 the earth ! Yet, years, many years ago, when I first looked 
 gravely into my own nature and being here, when I first awak- 
 ened to the dignity and solemn responsibilities of human life, 
 I had resolved to tame and curb myself into a thing of rule 
 and measure. Bearing within me the wound scarred over but 
 never healed, the consciousness of wrong to the heart that had 
 leaned upon me, haunted by the memory of my lost Alice, I 
 shuddered at new affections bequeathing new griefs. Wrapped 
 in a haughty egotism, I wished not to extend my empire over 
 a wider circuit than my own intellect and passions. I turned 
 from the trader-covetousness of bliss, that would freight the 
 wealth of life upon barks exposed to every wind upon the seas 
 of Fate; I was contented with the hope to pass life alone, 
 honoured, though unloved. Slowly and reluctantly I yielded 
 to the fascinations of Florence Lascelles. The hour that 
 sealed the compact between us was one of regret and alarm. 
 In vain I sought to deceive myself, I felt that I did not 
 love. And then I imagined that Love was no longer in my 
 nature, that I had exhausted its treasures before my time, 
 and left my heart a bankrupt. Not till the last not till 
 that glorious soul broke .out in all its brightness the nearer it 
 approached the source to which it has returned did I feel 
 of what tenderness she was worthy and I was capable. She 
 died, and the world was darkened! Energy, ambition, my 
 former aims and objects, were all sacrificed at her tomb. But 
 amidst ruins and through the darkness, my soul yet supported 
 me; I could no longer hope, but I could endure. I was re- 
 solved that I would not be subdued, and that the world should 
 not hear me groan. Amidst strange and far-distant scenes, 
 amidst hordes to whom my very language was unknown, in 
 wastes and forests, which the step of civilized man, with his 
 sorrows and his dreams, had never trodden, I wrestled with 
 my soul, as the patriarch of old wrestled with the angel, 
 and the angel was at last the victor ! You do not mistake me : 
 you know that it was not the death of Florence alone that 
 worked in me that awful revolution; but with that death the
 
 308 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 last glory fled from the face of things that had seemed to me 
 beautiful of old. Hers was a love that accompanied and dig- 
 nified the schemes and aspirations of manhood, a love that 
 was an incarnation of ambition itself; and all the evils and 
 disappointments that belong to ambition seemed to crowd 
 around my heart like vultures to a feast allured and invited 
 by the dead. But this at length was over; the barbarous 
 state restored me to the civilized. I returned to my equals, 
 prepared no more to be an actor in the strife, but a calm spec- 
 tator of the turbulent arena. I once more laid my head be- 
 neath the roof of my fathers; and if without any clear and 
 definite object, I at least hoped to find amidst " my old hered- 
 itary trees" the charm of contemplation and repose. And 
 scarce in the first hours of my arrival had I indulged 
 that dream, when a fair face, a sweet voice, that had once 
 before left deep and unobliterated impressions on my heart, 
 scattered all my philosophy to the winds. I saw Evelyn ! and 
 if ever there was love at first sight, it was that which I felt 
 for her : I lived in her presence, and forgot the Future ! Or, 
 rather, I was with the Past, in the bowers of my spring- 
 tide of life and hope ! It was an after-birth of youth my 
 love for that young heart ! 
 
 It is, indeed, only in maturity that we know how lovely 
 were our earliest years! What depth of wisdom in the old 
 Greek myth, that allotted Hebe as the prize to the god who 
 had been the arch-labourer of life! and whom the satiety of 
 all that results from experience had made enamoured of all 
 that belongs to the Hopeful and the New ! 
 
 This enchanting child, this delightful Evelyn, this ray of 
 undreamed of sunshine, smiled away all my palaces of ice. I 
 loved, Cleveland, I loved more ardently, more passionately, 
 more wildly than ever I did of old ! But suddenly I learned 
 that she was affianced to another, and felt that it was not for 
 me to question, to seek the annulment of the bond. I had 
 been unworthy to love Evelyn if I had not loved honour more ! 
 I fled from her presence, honestly and resolutely ; 1 sought to 
 conquer a forbidden passion ; I believed that I had not won 
 affection in return; I believed, from certain expressions that
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 309 
 
 I overheard Evelyn utter to another, that her heart as well as 
 her hand was given to Vargrave. I came hither; you know 
 how sternly and resolutely I strove to eradicate a weakness 
 that seemed without even the justification of hope ! If I suf- 
 fered, I betrayed it not. Suddenly Evelyn appeared again 
 before me ! and suddenly I learned that she was free ! Oh, 
 the rapture of that moment ! Could you have seen her bright 
 face, her enchanting smile, when we met again ! Her ingenu- 
 ous innocence did not conceal her gladness at seeing me! 
 What hopes broke upon me! Despite the difference of our 
 years, I think she loves me ! that in that love I am about at 
 last to learn what blessings there are in life. 
 
 Evelyn has the simplicity, the tenderness, of Alice, with 
 the refinement and culture of Florence herself; not the 
 genius, not the daring spirit, not the almost fearful bril- 
 liancy of that ill-fated being, but with a taste as true to the 
 Beautiful, with a soul as sensitive to the Sublime ! In Eve- 
 lyn's presence I feel a sense of peace, of security, of home! 
 Happy! thrice happy! he who will take her to his breast! 
 Of late she has assumed a new charm in my eyes, a certain 
 pensiveness and abstraction have succeeded to her wonted 
 gayety. Ah, Love is pensive, is it not, Cleveland? How 
 often I ask myself that question! And yet, amidst all my 
 hopes, there are hours when I tremble and despond! How 
 can that innocent and joyous spirit sympathize with all that 
 mine has endured and known? How, even though her imag- 
 ination be dazzled by some prestige around my name, how can 
 I believe that I have awakened her heart to that deep and real 
 love of which it is capable, and which youth excites in youth? 
 When we meet at her home, or amidst the quiet yet brilliant 
 society which is gathered round Madame de Ventadour or the 
 Montaignes, with whom she is an especial favourite; when we 
 converse ; when I sit by her, and her soft eyes meet mine, I 
 feel not the disparity of years; my heart speaks to her, and 
 that is youthful still! But in the more gay and crowded 
 haunts to which her presence allures me, when I see that 
 fairy form surrounded by those who have not outlived the
 
 310 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 pleasures that so naturally dazzle and captivate her, then, 
 indeed, I feel that my tastes, my habits, my pursuits, belong 
 to another season of life, and ask myself anxiously if my 
 nature and my years are those that can make her happy? 
 Then, indeed, I recognize the wide interval that time and 
 trial place between one whom the world has wearied, and one 
 for whom the world is new. If she should discover hereafter 
 that youth should love only youth, my bitterest anguish would 
 be that of remorse ! I know how deeply 1 love by knowing 
 how immeasurably dearer her happiness is than my own! I 
 will wait, then, yet a while, I will examine, I will watch well 
 that I do not deceive myself. As yet I think that I have no 
 rivals whom I need fear: surrounded as she is by the young- 
 est and the gayest, she still turns with evident pleasure to 
 me, whom she calls her friend. She will forego the amuse- 
 ments she most loves for society in which we can converse 
 more at ease. You remember, for instance, young Legard? 
 He is here; and, before I met Evelyn, was much at Lady 
 Doltimore's house. I cannot be blind to his superior advan- 
 tages of youth and person; and there is something striking 
 and prepossessing in the gentle yet manly frankness of his 
 manner, and yet no fear of his rivalship ever haunts me. 
 True, that of late he has been little in Evelyn's society; nor 
 do I think, in the frivolity of his pursuits, he can have edu- 
 cated his mind to appreciate Evelyn, or be possessed of those 
 qualities which would render him worthy of her. But there 
 is something good in the young man, despite his foibles, 
 something that wins upon me; and you will smile to learn, 
 that he has even surprised from me usually so reserved on 
 such matters the confession of my attachment and hopes ! 
 Evelyn often talks to me of her mother, and describes her in 
 colours so glowing that I feel the greatest interest in one who 
 has helped to form so beautiful and pure a mind. Can you 
 learn who Lady Vargrave was? There is evidently some mys- 
 tery thrown over her birth and connections ; and, from what 
 I can hear, this arises from their lowliness. You know that, 
 though I have been accused of family pride, it is a pride of a
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 311 
 
 peculiar sort. I am proud, not of the length of a mouldering 
 pedigree, but of some historical quarterings in my escutcheon, 
 of some blood of scholars and of heroes that rolls in my 
 veins; it is the same kind of pride that an Englishman may 
 feel in belonging to a country that has produced Shakspeare 
 and Bacon. I have never, I hope, felt the vulgar pride that 
 disdains want of birth in others ; and I care not three straws 
 whether my friend or my wife be descended from a king or a 
 peasant. It is myself, and not my connections, who alone 
 can disgrace my lineage; therefore, however humble Lady 
 Vargrave's parentage, do not scruple to inform me, should 
 you learn any intelligence that bears upon it. 
 
 I had a conversation last night with Evelyn that delighted 
 me. By some accident we spoke of Lord Vargrave; and she 
 told me, with an enchanting candour, of the position in which 
 she stood with him, and the conscientious and noble scruples 
 she felt as to the enjoyment of a fortune, which her bene- 
 factor and stepfather had evidently intended to be shared 
 with his nearest relative. In these scruples I cordially con- 
 curred ; and if I marry Evelyn, my first care will be to carry 
 them into effect, by securing to VargraVe, as far as the law 
 may permit, the larger part of the income ; I should like to 
 say all, at least till Evelyn's children would have the right 
 to claim it : a right not to be enforced during her own, and, 
 therefore, probably not during Vargrave's life. I own that this 
 would be no sacrifice, for I am proud enough to recoil from the 
 thought of being indebted for fortune to the woman I love. 
 It was that kind of pride which gave coldness and constraint 
 to my regard for Florence ; and for the rest, my own property 
 (much increased by the simplicity of my habits of life for the 
 last few years) will suffice for all Evelyn or myself could re- 
 quire. Ah, madman that I am! I calculate already on mar- 
 riage, even while I have so much cause for anxiety as to love. 
 But my heart beats, my heart has grown a dial that keeps 
 the account of time; by its movements I calculate the mo- 
 ments in an hour I shall see her ! 
 
 Oh, never, never, in my wildest and earliest visions, could 
 I have fancied that I should love as I love now ! Adieu, my
 
 312 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 oldest and kindest friend ! If I am happy at last, it will be 
 something to feel that at last I shall have satisfied your ex- 
 pectations of my youth. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 E. MALTRAVEES. 
 
 RUE DE . PABIS, 
 
 January , 18 . 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN her youth 
 
 There is a prone and speechless dialect 
 Such as moves men. Measure for Measure. 
 
 Abbess. Haply in private 
 
 Adriana. And in assemblies too. Comedy of Errors. 
 
 IT was true, as Maltravers had stated, that Legard had of 
 late been little at Lady Doltimore's, or in the same society as 
 Evelyn. With the vehemence of an ardent and passionate 
 nature, he yielded to the jealous rage and grief that devoured 
 him. He saw too clearly, and from the first, that Maltravers 
 adored Evelyn; and in her familiar kindness of manner 
 towards him, in the unlimited veneration in which she ap- 
 peared to hold his gifts and qualities, he thought that that 
 love might become reciprocal. He became gloomy and almost 
 morose ; he shunned Evelyn, he forbore to enter into the lists 
 against his rival. Perhaps the intellectual superiority of 
 Maltravers, the extraordinary conversational brilliancy that 
 he could display when he pleased, the commanding dignity of 
 his manners, even the matured authority of his reputation and 
 years, might have served to awe the hopes, as well as to wound 
 the vanity, of a man accustomed himself to be the oracle of a 
 circle. These might have strongly influenced Legard in with- 
 drawing himself from Evelyn's society ; but there was one cir- 
 cumstance, connected with motives much more generous, that 
 mainly determined his conduct. It happened that Maltravers,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 313 
 
 shortly after his first interview with Evelyn, was riding alone 
 one day in the more sequestered part of the Bois de Boulogne, 
 when he encountered Legard, also alone, and on horseback. 
 The latter, on succeeding to his uncle's fortune, had taken 
 care to repay his debt to Maltravers; he had done so in a 
 short but feeling and grateful letter, which had been for- 
 warded to Maltravers at Paris, and which pleased and touched 
 him. Since that time he had taken a liking to the young 
 man, and now, meeting him at Paris, he sought, to a certain 
 extent, Legard's more intimate acquaintance. Maltravers 
 was in that happy mood when we are inclined to be friends 
 with all men. It is true, however, that, though unknown to 
 himself, that pride of bearing, which often gave to the very 
 virtues of Maltravers an unamiable aspect, occasionally irri- 
 tated one who felt he had incurred to him an obligation of 
 honour and of life never to be effaced; it made the sense of 
 this obligation more intolerable to Legard; it made him more 
 desirous to acquit himself of the charge. But on this day 
 there was so much cordiality in the greeting of Maltravers, 
 and he pressed Legard in so friendly a manner to join him in 
 his ride, that the young man's heart was softened, and they 
 rode together, conversing familiarly on such topics as were in 
 common between them. At last the conversation fell on Lord 
 and Lady Doltimore; and thence Maltravers, whose soul was 
 full of one thought, turned it indirectly towards Evelyn. 
 
 "Did you ever see Lady Vargrave? " 
 
 "Never," replied Legard, looking another way; "but Lady 
 Doltimore says she is as beautiful as Evelyn herself, if that 
 be possible; and still so young in form and countenance, that 
 she looks rather like her sister than her mother ! " 
 
 " How I should like to know her ! " said Maltravers, with a 
 sudden energy. 
 
 Legard changed the subject. He spoke of the Carnival, of 
 balls, of masquerades, of operas, of reigning beauties ! 
 
 "Ah," said Maltravers, with a half sigh, "yours is the 
 age for those dazzling pleasures; to me they are ' the twice- 
 told tale.'" 
 
 Maltravers meant it not, but this remark chafed Legard.
 
 314 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 He thought it conveyed a sarcasm on the childishness of his 
 own mind or the levity of his pursuits; his colour mounted, 
 as he replied, 
 
 " It is not, I fear, the slight difference of years between us, 
 
 it is the difference of intellect you would insinuate; but 
 you should remember all men have not your resources; all 
 men cannot pretend to genius ! " 
 
 "My dear Legard," said Maltravers, kindly, "do not fancy 
 that I could have designed any insinuation half so presump- 
 tuous and impertinent. Believe me, I envy you, sincerely 
 and sadly, all those faculties of enjoyment which I have worn 
 away. Oh, how I envy you ! for, were they still mine, then 
 
 then, indeed, I might hope to mould myself into greater 
 congeniality with the beautiful and the young! " 
 
 Maltravers paused a moment, and resumed, with a grave 
 smile : " I trust, Legard, that you will be wiser than I have 
 been; that you will gather your roses while it is yet May: 
 and that you will not live to thirty-six, pining for happiness 
 and home, a disappointed and desolate man; till, when your 
 ideal is at last found, you shrink back appalled, to discover 
 that you have lost none of the tendencies to love, but many 
 of the graces by which love is to be allured ! " 
 
 There was so much serious and earnest feeling in these 
 words that they went home at once to Legard's sympathies. 
 He felt irresistibly impelled to learn the worst. 
 
 "Maltravers," said he, in a hurried tone, "it would be an 
 idle compliment to say that you are not likely to love in vain ; 
 perhaps it is indelicate in me to apply a general remark; and 
 yet yet I cannot but fancy that I have discovered your 
 secret, and that you are not insensible to the charms of Miss 
 Cameron ! " 
 
 "Legard!" said Maltravers, and so strong was his fer- 
 vent attachment to Evelyn, that it swept away all his natural 
 coldness and reserve, "I tell you plainly and frankly that 
 in my love for Evelyn Cameron lie the last hopes I have in 
 life. I have no thought, no ambition, no sentiment that is 
 not vowed to her. If my love should be unreturned, I may 
 strive to endure the blow, I may mix with the world, I may
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 315 
 
 seem to occupy myself in the aims of others ; but my heart 
 will be broken ! Let us talk of this no more ; you have sur- 
 prised my secret, though it must have betrayed itself. Learn 
 from me how preternaturally strong, how generally fatal is 
 love deferred to that day when in the stern growth of all 
 the feelings love writes itself on granite ! " 
 
 Maltravers, as if impatient of his own weakness, put spurs 
 to his horse, and they rode on rapidly for some time without 
 speaking. 
 
 That silence was employed by Legard in meditating over 
 all he had heard and witnessed, in recalling all that he owed 
 to Maltravers; and before that silence was broken the young 
 man nobly resolved not even to attempt, not even to hope, a 
 rivalry with Maltravers; to forego all the expectations he 
 had so fondly nursed, to absent himself from the company of 
 Evelyn, to requite faithfully and firmly that act of generosity 
 to" which he owed the preservation of his life, the redemp- 
 tion of his honour. 
 
 Agreeably to this determination, he abstained from visiting 
 those haunts in which Evelyn shone ; and if accident brought 
 them together, his manner was embarrassed and abrupt. She 
 wondered, at last, perhaps she resented, it may be that she 
 grieved; for certain it is that Maltravers was right in think- 
 ing that her manner had lost the gayety that distinguished it 
 at Merton Rectory. But still it may be doubted whether 
 Evelyn had seen enough of Legard, and whether her fancy 
 and romance were still sufficiently free from the magical influ- 
 ences of the genius that called them forth in the eloquent 
 homage of Maltravers, to trace, herself, to any causes con- 
 nected with her younger lover the listless melancholy that 
 crept over her. In very young women new alike to the 
 world and the knowledge of themselves many vague and 
 undefined feelings herald the dawn of Love; shade after shade 
 and light upon light succeeds before the sun breaks forth, and 
 the earth awakens to his presence. 
 
 It was one evening that Legard had suffered himself to be 
 
 led into a party at the ambassador's ; and there, as he 
 
 stood by the door, he saw at a little distance Maltravers con-
 
 316 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 versing with Evelyn. Again he writhed beneath the tortures 
 of his jealous anguish; and there, as he gazed and suffered, 
 he resolved (as Maltravers had done before him) to fly from 
 the place that had a little while ago seemed to him Elysium ! 
 He would quit Paris, he would travel, he would not see Eve- 
 lyn again till the irrevocable barrier was passed, and she was 
 the wife of Maltravers ! In the first heat of this determina- 
 tion, he turned towards some young men standing near him, 
 one of whom was about to visit Vienna. He gayly proposed 
 to join him, a proposal readily accepted, and began convers- 
 ing on the journey, the city, its splendid and proud society, 
 with all that cruel exhilaration which the forced spirits of a 
 stricken heart can alone display, when Evelyn (whose confer- 
 ence with Maltravers was ended) passed close by him. She 
 was leaning on Lady Doltimore 's arm, and the admiring mur- 
 mur of his companions caused Legard to turn suddenly round. 
 
 "You are not dancing to-night, Colonel Legard," said Caro- 
 line, glancing towards Evelyn. "The more the season for 
 balls advances, the more indolent you become." 
 
 Legard muttered a confused reply, one half of which 
 seemed petulant, while the other half was inaudible. 
 
 "Not so indolent as you suppose," said his friend. "Legard 
 meditates an excursion sufficient, I hope, to redeem his char- 
 acter in your eyes. It is a long journey, and, what is worse, 
 a very cold journey, to Vienna." 
 
 "Vienna! do you think of going to Vienna? " cried Caroline. 
 
 "Yes," said Legard. "I hate Paris; any place better than 
 this odious city ! " and he moved away. 
 
 Evelyn's eyes followed him sadly and gravely. She re- 
 mained by Lady Doltimore's side, abstracted and silent for 
 several minutes. 
 
 Meanwhile Caroline, turning to Lord Devonport (the friend 
 who had proposed the Viennese excursion), said, "It is cruel 
 in you to go to Vienna, it is doubly cruel to rob Lord 
 Doltimore of his best friend and Paris of its best waltzer." 
 
 " Oh, it is a voluntary offer of Legard's, Lady Doltimore, 
 believe me, I have used no persuasive arts. But the fact 
 is, that we have been talking of a fair widow, the beauty of
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 317 
 
 Austria, and as proud and as unassailable as Ehrenbreitstein 
 itself. Legard's vanity is piqued; and so as a professed 
 lady-killer he intends to see what can be effected by the 
 handsomest Englishman of his time." 
 
 Caroline laughed, and new claimants on her notice succeeded 
 to Lord Devonport. It was not till the ladies were waiting 
 their carriage in the shawl-room that Lady Doltimore noticed 
 the paleness and thoughtful brow of Evelyn. 
 
 "Are you fatigued or unwell, dear?" she said. 
 
 "No," answered Evelyn, forcing a smile; and at that 
 moment they were joined by Maltravers, with the intelli- 
 gence that it would be some minutes before the carriage could 
 draw up. Caroline amused herself in the interval by shrewd 
 criticisms on the dresses and characters of her various friends. 
 Caroline had grown an amazing prude in her judgment of 
 others ! 
 
 " What a turban ! prudent for Mrs. A to wear, 
 
 bright red; it puts out her face, as the sun puts out the fire. 
 
 Mr. Maltravers, do observe Lady B with that very young 
 
 gentleman. After all her experience in angling, it is odd that 
 she should still only throw in for small fish. Pray, why is the 
 
 marriage between Lady C D and Mr. F broken 
 
 off? Is it true that he is so much in debt, and is so very 
 very profligate? They say she is heartbroken." 
 
 "Really, Lady Doltimore," said Maltravers, smiling, "I 
 am but a bad scandal-monger. But poor F is not, I be- 
 lieve, much worse than others. How do we know whose 
 
 fault it is when a marriage is broken off? Lady C D 
 
 heartbroken! what an idea! Nowadays there is never any 
 affection in compacts of that sort; and the chain that binds 
 the frivolous nature is but a gossamer thread ! Fine gentle- 
 men and fine ladies, their loves and their marriages 
 
 " ' May flourish and may fade ; 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made.' 
 
 Never believe that a heart long accustomed to beat only in 
 good society can be broken, it is rarely ever touched! " 
 Evelyn listened attentively, and seemed struck. She sighed,
 
 318 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and said in a very low voice, as to herself, " It is true how 
 could I think otherwise?" 
 
 For the next few days Evelyn was unwell, and did not quit 
 her room. Maltravers was in despair. The flowers, the 
 books, the music he sent; his anxious inquiries, his earnest 
 and respectful notes, touched with that ineffable charm which 
 Heart and Intellect breathe into the most trifling coinage from 
 their mint, all affected Evelyn sensibly. Perhaps she con- 
 trasted them with Legard's indifference and apparent caprice ; 
 perhaps in that contrast Maltravers gained more than by all 
 his brilliant qualities. Meanwhile, without visit, without mes- 
 sage, without farewell, unconscious, it is true, of Evelyn's 
 illness, Legard departed for Vienna. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A PLEASING land . . . 
 
 Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye, 
 
 And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, 
 Forever flashing round a summer sky. THOMSON. 
 
 DAILY, hourly, increased the influence of Evelyn over 
 Maltravers. Oh, what a dupe is a man's pride! what a fool 
 his wisdom ! That a girl, a mere child, one who scarce knew 
 her own heart, beautiful as it was, whose deeper feelings 
 still lay coiled up in their sweet buds, that she should thus 
 master this proud, wise man! But as thou our universal 
 teacher as thou, Shakspeare! haply speaking from the 
 hints of thine own experience, hast declared 
 
 " None are so truly caught, when they are catched, 
 As wit turned fool ; folly in wisdom hatched, 
 Hath wisdom's warrant." 
 
 Still, methinks that, in that surpassing and dangerously 
 indulged affection which levelled thee, Maltravers, with the 
 weakest, which overturned all thy fine philosophy of Stoi- 
 cism, and made thee the veriest slave of the "Rose Garden,"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 319 
 
 still, Maltravers, thou mightest at least have seen that thou 
 hast lost forever all right to pride, all privilege to disdain the 
 herd! But thou wert proud of thine own infirmity ! And far 
 sharper must be that lesson which can teach thee that Pride 
 thine angel is ever pre-doomed to fall. 
 
 What a mistake to suppose that the passions are strongest 
 in youth ! The passions are not stronger, but the control over 
 them is weaker. They are more easily excited, they are more 
 violent and more apparent; but they have less energy, less 
 durability, less intense and concentrated power, than in 
 maturer life. In youth, passion succeeds to passion, and 
 one breaks upon the other, as waves upon a rock, till the 
 heart frets itself to repose. In manhood, the great deep flows 
 on, more calm, but more profound; its serenity is the proof 
 of the might and terror of its course, were the wind to blow 
 and the storm to rise. 
 
 A young man's ambition is but vanity, it has no definite 
 aim, it plays with a thousand toys. As with one passion, so 
 with the rest. In youth, Love is ever on the wing, but, like 
 the birds in April, it hath not yet built its nest. With so 
 long a career of summer and hope before it, the disappoint- 
 ment of to-day is succeeded by the novelty of to-morrow, and 
 the sun that advances to the noon but dries up its fervent 
 tears. But when we have arrived at that epoch of life, 
 when, if the light fail us, if the last rose wither, we feel that 
 the loss cannot be retrieved, and that the frost and the dark- 
 ness are at hand, Love becomes to us a treasure that we watch 
 over and hoafd with a miser's care. Our youngest-born affec- 
 tion is our darling and our idol, the fondest pledge of the 
 Past, the most cherished of our hopes for the Future. A cer- 
 tain melancholy that mingles with our joy at the possession 
 only enhances its charm. We feel ourselves so dependent on 
 it for all that is yet to come. Our other barks our gay gal- 
 leys of pleasure, our stately argosies of pride have been 
 swallowed up by the remorseless wave. On this last vessel 
 we freight our all, to its frail tenement we commit ourselves. 
 The star that guides it is our guide, and in the tempest that 
 menaces we behold our own doom!
 
 320 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Still Maltravers shrank from the confession that trembled 
 on his lips; still he adhered to the course he had prescribed 
 to himself. If ever (as he had implied in his letter to Cleve- 
 land) if ever Evelyn should discover they were not suited 
 to each other! The possibility of such an affliction impressed 
 his judgment, the dread of it chilled his heart. With all his 
 pride, there was a certain humility in Maltravers that was 
 perhaps one cause of his reserve. He knew what a beautiful 
 possession is youth, its sanguine hopes, its elastic spirit, its 
 inexhaustible resources! What to the eyes of woman were 
 the acquisitions which manhood had brought him, the vast 
 but the sad experience, the arid wisdom, the philosophy based 
 on disappointment? He might be loved but for the vain glit- 
 ter of name and reputation, and love might vanish as cus- 
 tom dimmed the illusion. Men of strong affections are jeal- 
 ous of their own genius. They know how separate a thing 
 from the household character genius often is, they fear lest 
 they should be loved for a quality, not for themselves. 
 
 Thus communed he with himself; thus, as the path had 
 become clear to his hopes, did new fears arise; and thus did 
 love bring, as it ever does, in its burning wake, 
 
 " The pang, the agony, the doubt ! " 
 
 Maltravers then confirmed himself in the resolution he had 
 formed: he would cautiously examine Evelyn and himself; he 
 would weigh in the balance every straw that the wind should 
 turn up ; he would not aspire to the treasure, unless he could 
 feel secure that the coffer could preserve the gem. This was 
 not only a prudent, it was a just and a generous determina- 
 tion. It was one which we all ought to form if the fervour 
 of our passions will permit us. We have no right to sacrifice 
 years to moments, and to melt the pearl that has no price in 
 a single draught ! But can Maltravers adhere to his wise pre- 
 cautions? The truth must be spoken, it was, perhaps, the 
 first time in his life that Maltravers had been really in love. 
 
 As the reader will remember, he had not been in love with 
 the haughty Florence ; admiration, gratitude, the affection 
 of the head, not that of the feelings, had been the links that
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 321 
 
 bound him to the enthusiastic correspondent revealed in the 
 gifted beauty; and the gloomy circumstances connected with 
 her early fate had left deep furrows in his memory. Time 
 and vicissitude had effaced the wounds, and the Light of the 
 Beautiful dawned once more in the face of Evelyn. Valerie 
 de Ventadour had been but the fancy of a roving breast. 
 Alice, the sweet Alice! her, indeed, in the first flower of 
 youth, he had loved with a boy's romance. He had loved 
 her deeply, fondly, but perhaps he had never been in love 
 with her; he had mourned her loss for years, insensibly to 
 himself her loss had altered his character and cast a melan- 
 choly gloom over all the colours of his life. But she whose 
 range of ideas was so confined, she who had but broke into 
 knowledge, as the chrysalis into the butterfly how much in 
 that prodigal and gifted nature, bounding onwards into the 
 broad plains of life, must the peasant girl have failed to fill ! 
 They had had nothing in common but their youth and their 
 love. It was a dream that had hovered over the poet-boy in 
 the morning twilight, a dream he had often wished to recall, 
 a dream that had haunted him in the noon-day, but had, as 
 all boyish visions ever have done, left the heart unexhausted, 
 and the passions unconsumed ! Years, long years, since then 
 had rolled away, and yet, perhaps, one unconscious attraction 
 that drew Maltravers so suddenly towards Evelyn was a some- 
 thing indistinct and undefinable that reminded him of Alice. 
 There was no similarity in their features; but at times a tone 
 in Evelyn's voice, a "trick of the manner," an air, a gesture, 
 recalled him, over the gulfs of Time, to Poetry, and Hope, 
 and Alice. 
 
 In the youth of each the absent and the present one 
 there was resemblance, resemblance in their simplicity, 
 their grace. Perhaps Alice, of the two, had in her nature 
 more real depth, more ardour of feeling, more sublimity of 
 sentiment, than Evelyn. But in her primitive ignorance half 
 her noblest qualities were embedded and unknown. And 
 Evelyn his equal in rank; Evelyn, well cultivated; Eve- 
 lyn, so long courted, so deeply studied had such advantages 
 over the poor peasant girl ! Still the poor peasant girl often 
 
 21
 
 322 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 seemed to smile on him from that fair face ; and in Evelyn he 
 half loved Alice again ! 
 
 So these two persons now met daily ; their intercourse was 
 even more familiar than before, their several minds grew 
 hourly more developed and transparent to each other. But 
 of love Maltravers still forbore to speak ; they were friends, 
 no more; such friends as the disparity of their years and 
 their experience might warrant them to be. And in that 
 young and innocent nature with its rectitude, its enthusi- 
 asm, and its pious and cheerful tendencies Maltravers found 
 freshness in the desert, as the camel-driver lingering at the 
 well. Insensibly his heart warmed again to his kind; and 
 as the harp of David to the ear of Saul, was the soft voice 
 that lulled remembrance and awakened hope in the lonely 
 man. 
 
 Meanwhile, what was the effect that the presence, the at- 
 tentions, of Maltravers produced on Evelyn? Perhaps it 
 was of that kind which most natters us and most deceives. 
 She never dreamed of comparing him with others. To her 
 thoughts he stood aloof and alone from all his kind. It may 
 s6em a paradox, but it might be that she admired and ven- 
 erated him almost too much for love. Still her pleasure in 
 his society was so evident and unequivocal, \her deference to 
 his opinion so marked, she sympathized in so many of his 
 objects, she had so much blindness or forbearance for his 
 faults (and he never sought to mask them), that the most 
 diffident of men might have drawn from so many symptoms 
 hopes the most auspicious. Since the departure of Legard, 
 the gayeties of Paris lost their charm for Evelyn, and more 
 than ever she could appreciate the society of her friend. He 
 thus gradually lost his earlier fears of her forming too keen 
 an attachment to the great world; and as nothing could be 
 more apparent than Evelyn's indifference to the crowd of 
 flatterers and suitors that hovered round her, Maltravers no 
 longer dreaded a rival. He began to feel assured that they 
 had both gone through the ordeal; and that he might ask for 
 love without a doubt of its immutability and faith. At this 
 period they were both invited, with the Doltimores, to spend
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 323 
 
 a few days at the villa of De Montaigne, near St. Cloud. 
 And there it was that Maltravers determined to know his 
 fate! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHAOS of Thought and Passion all confused. POPE. 
 
 IT is to the contemplation of a very different scene that the 
 course of our story now conducts us. 
 
 Between St. Cloud and Versailles there was at that time 
 perhaps there still is a lone and melancholy house, appro- 
 priated to the insane, melancholy, not from its site, but the 
 purpose to which it is devoted. Placed on an eminence, the 
 windows of the mansion command beyond the gloomy walls 
 that gird the garden ground one of those enchanting prospects 
 which win for France her title to La Belle. There the glori- 
 ous Seine is seen in the distance, broad and winding through 
 the varied plains, and beside the gleaming villages and villas. 
 There, too, beneath the clear blue sky of France, the forest- 
 lands of Versailles and St. Germains stretch in dark luxuri- 
 ance around and afar. There you may see sleeping on the 
 verge of the landscape the mighty city, crowned with the 
 thousand spires from which, proud above the rest, rises the 
 eyry of Napoleon's eagle, the pinnacle of Notre Dame. 
 
 Remote, sequestered, the place still commands the survey 
 of the turbulent world below; and Madness gazes upon pros- 
 pects that might well charm the thoughtful eyes of Imagina- 
 tion or of Wisdom! In one of the rooms of this house sat 
 Castruccio Cesarini. The apartment was furnished even with 
 elegance; a variety of books strewed the table; nothing for 
 comfort or for solace that the care and providence of affection 
 could dictate was omitted. Cesarini was alone : leaning his 
 cheek upon his hand, he gazed on the beautiful and tranquil 
 view we have described. " And am I never to set a free foot
 
 324 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 on that soil again?" he muttered indignantly, as he broke 
 from his revery. 
 
 The door opened, and the keeper of the sad abode (a surgeon 
 of humanity and eminence) entered, followed by De Mon- 
 taigne. Cesarini turned round and scowled upon the latter; 
 the surgeon, after a few words of salutation, withdrew to a 
 corner of the room, and appeared absorbed in a book. De 
 Montaigne approached his brother-in-law, "I have brought 
 you some poems just published at Milan, my dear Castruccio, 
 they will please you." 
 
 " Give me my liberty! " cried Cesarini, clenching his hands. 
 "Why am I to be detained here? Why are my nights to be 
 broken by the groans of maniacs, and my days devoured in a 
 solitude that loathes the aspect of things around me? Am 7 
 mad? You know I am not! It is an old trick to say that 
 poets are mad, you mistake our agonies for insanity. See, 
 I am calm ; I can reason : give me any test of sound mind 
 no matter how rigid I will pass it; I am not mad, I swear 
 I am not ! " 
 
 "No, my dear Castruccio," said De Montaigne, soothingly; 
 "but you are still unwell, you still have fever; when next 
 I see you perhaps you may be recovered sufficiently to dis- 
 miss the doctor and change the air. Meanwhile is there any- 
 thing you would have added or altered? " 
 
 Cesarini had listened to this speech with a mocking sarcasm 
 on his lip, but an expression of such hopeless wretchedness in 
 his eyes, as they alone can comprehend who have witnessed 
 madness in its lucid intervals. He sank down, and his head 
 drooped gloomily on his breast. "No," said he; "I want 
 nothing but free air or death, no matter which." 
 
 De Montaigne stayed some time with the unhappy man, 
 and sought to soothe him; but it was in vain. Yet when he 
 rose to depart, Cesarini started up, and fixing on him his large 
 wistful eyes, exclaimed, "Ah ! do not leave me yet. It is so 
 dreadful to be alone with the dead and the worse than dead! " 
 
 The Frenchman turned aside to wipe his eyes, and stifle the 
 rising at his heart; and again he sat, and again he sought to 
 soothe. At length Cesarini, seemingly more calm, gave him
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 325 
 
 leave to depart. " Go, " said lie, " go ; tell Teresa I am better, 
 that I love her tenderly, that I shall live to tell her children 
 not to be poets. Stay, you asked if there was aught I wished 
 changed : yes, this room ; it is too still : I hear my own pulse 
 beat so loudly in the silence, it is horrible ! There is a room 
 below, by the window of which there is a tree, and the winds 
 rock its boughs to and fro, and it sighs and groans like a liv- 
 ing thing ; it will be pleasant to look at that tree, and see the 
 birds come home to it, yet that tree is wintry and blasted 
 too! It will be pleasant to hear it fret and chafe in the 
 stormy nights; it will be a friend to me, that old tree! let 
 me have that room. Nay, look not at each other, it is not 
 so high as this ; but the window is barred, I cannot 
 escape ! " And Cesarini smiled. 
 
 "Certainly," said the surgeon, "if you prefer that room; 
 but it has not so fine a view." 
 
 " I hate the view of the world that has cast me off. When 
 may I change? " 
 
 "This very evening." 
 
 "Thank you; it will be a great revolution in my life." 
 
 And Cesarini's eyes brightened, and he looked happy. De 
 Montaigne, thoroughly unmanned, tore himself away. 
 
 The promise was kept, and Cesarini was transferred that 
 night to the chamber he had selected. 
 
 As soon as it was deep night, the last visit of the keeper 
 paid, and, save now and then, by some sharp cry in the more 
 distant quarter of the house, all was still, Cesarini rose from 
 his bed; a partial light came from the stars that streamed 
 through the frosty and keen air, and cast a sickly gleam 
 through the heavy bars of the casement. It was then that 
 Cesarini drew from under his pillow a long-cherished and 
 carefully-concealed treasure. Oh, with what rapture had he 
 first possessed himself of it! with what anxiety had it been 
 watched and guarded ! how many cunning stratagems and pro- 
 found inventions had gone towards the baffling the jealous 
 search of the keeper and his myrmidons! The abandoned 
 and wandering mother never clasped her child more fondly 
 to her bosom, nor gazed upon his features with more passion-
 
 326 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ate visions for the future. And what had so enchanted the 
 poor prisoner, so deluded the poor maniac? A large nail! 
 He had found it accidentally in the garden ; he had hoarded 
 it for weeks, it had inspired him with the hope of liberty. 
 Often, in the days far gone, he had read of the wonders that 
 had been effected, of the stones removed, and the bars filed, 
 by the self-same kind of implement. He remembered that 
 the most celebrated of those bold unfortunates who live a life 
 against the law, had said, "Choose my prison, and give me 
 but a rusty nail, and I laugh at your jailers and your walls!" 
 He crept to the window; he examined his relic by the dim 
 starlight; he kissed it passionately, and the tears stood in his 
 eyes. 
 
 Ah, who shall determine the worth of things? No king 
 that night so prized his crown as the madman prized that 
 rusty inch of wire, the proper prey of the rubbish-cart and 
 dunghill. Little didst thou think, old blacksmith, when thou 
 drewest the dull metal from the fire, of what precious price it 
 was to become! 
 
 Cesarini, with the astuteness of his malady, had long 
 marked out this chamber for the scene of his operations; 
 he had observed that the framework in which the bars were 
 set seemed old and worm-eaten ; that the window was but a 
 few feet from the ground ; that the noise made in the winter 
 nights by the sighing branches of the old tree without would 
 deaden the sound of the lone workman. Now, then, his 
 hopes were to be crowned. Poor fool! and even thou hast 
 hope still! All that night he toiled and toiled, and sought 
 to work his iron into a file ; now he tried the bars, and now 
 the framework. Alas ! he had not learned the skill in such 
 tools, possessed by his renowned model and inspirer; the 
 flesh was worn from his fingers, the cold drops stood on his 
 brow ; and morning surprised him, advanced not a hair-breadth 
 in his labour. 
 
 He crept back to bed, and again hid the useless implement, 
 and at last he slept. 
 
 And, night after night, the same task, the same results! 
 But at length, one day, when Cesarini returned from his
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 327 
 
 moody walk in the gardens (pleasure-grounds they were called 
 by the owner), he found better workmen than he at the win- 
 dow; they were repairing the framework, they were strength- 
 ening the bars, all hope was now gone ! The unfortunate 
 said nothing; too cunning to show his despair he eyed them 
 silently, and cursed them ; but the old tree was left still, and 
 that was something, company and music. 
 
 A day or two after this barbarous counterplot, Cesarini was 
 walking in the gardens towards the latter part of the after- 
 noon (just when in the short days the darkness begins to steal 
 apace over the chill and western sun), when he was accosted 
 by a fellow-captive, who had often before sought his acquaint- 
 ance ; for they try to have friends, those poor people ! Even 
 we do the same; though we say we are not mad! This man 
 had been a warrior, had served with Napoleon, had received 
 honours and ribbons, might, for aught we know, have 
 dreamed of being a marshal! But the demon smote him in 
 the hour of his pride. It was his disease to fancy himself a 
 monarch. He believed, for he forgot chronology, that he was 
 at once the Iron Mask, and the true sovereign of France and 
 Navarre, confined in state by the usurpers of his crown. On 
 other points he was generally sane; a tall, strong man, with 
 fierce features, and stern lines, wherein could be read many 
 a bloody tale of violence and wrong, of lawless passions, of 
 terrible excesses, to which madness might be at once the con- 
 summation and the curse. This man had taken a fancy to 
 Cesarini ; and, in some hours Cesarini had shunned him less 
 than others, for they could alike rail against all living 
 things. The lunatic approached Cesarini with an air of dig- 
 nity and condescension. 
 
 " It is a cold night, sir, and there will be no moon. Has 
 it never occurred to you that the winter is the season for 
 escape?" 
 
 Cesarini started; the ex-officer continued, 
 
 "Ay, I see by your manner that you, too, chafe at our 
 ignominious confinement. I think that together we might 
 brave the worst. You probably are confined on some state 
 offence. I give you full pardon, if you assist me. For my-
 
 328 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 self I have but to appear in my capital; old Louis le Grand 
 must be near his last hour." 
 
 " This madman my best companion ! " thought Cesarini, 
 revolting at his own infirmity, as Gulliver started from the 
 Yahoo. "No matter, he talks of escape. 
 
 "And how think you," said the Italian, aloud, "how 
 think you, that we have any chance of deliverance?" 
 
 "Hush, speak lower," said the soldier. "In the inner 
 garden, I have observed for the last two days that a gardener 
 is employed in nailing some fig-trees and vines to the wall. 
 Between that garden and these grounds there is but a paling, 
 which we can easily scale. He works till dusk; at the latest 
 hour we can, let us climb noiselessly over the paling, and 
 creep along the vegetable beds till we reach the man. He 
 uses a ladder for his purpose ; the rest is clear, we must 
 fell and gag him, twist his neck if necessary, I have 
 twisted a neck before," quoth the maniac, with a horrid smile. 
 "The ladder will help us over the wall, and the night soon 
 grows dark at this season." 
 
 Cesarini listened, and his heart beat quick. "Will it be 
 too late to try to-night?" said he in a whisper. 
 
 "Perhaps not," said the soldier, who retained all his mili- 
 tary acuteness. "But are you prepared, don't you require 
 time to man yourself? " 
 
 "No no, I have had time enough! I am ready." 
 
 " Well, then, hist ! we are watched one of the jailers ! 
 Talk easily, smile, laugh. This way." 
 
 They passed by one of the watch of the place, and just as 
 they were in his hearing, the soldier turned to Cesarini, " Sir, 
 will you favour me with your snuff-box? " 
 
 "I have none." 
 
 "None? what a pity! My good friend," and he turned to 
 the scout, "may I request you to look in my room for my 
 snuff-box? It is on the chimney-piece, it will not take you 
 a minute." 
 
 The soldier was one of those whose insanity was deemed 
 most harmless, and his relations, who were rich and well- 
 born, had requested every indulgence to be shown to him.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 329 
 
 The watch suspected nothing, and repaired to the house. As 
 soon as the trees hid him, "Now," said the soldier, "stoop 
 almost on all fours, and run quick." 
 
 So saying the maniac crouched low, and glided along with 
 a rapidity which did not distance Cesarini. They reached the 
 paling that separated the vegetable garden from the pleasure- 
 ground; the soldier vaulted over it with ease, Cesarini with 
 more difficulty followed. They crept along; the herbs and 
 vegetable beds, with their long bare stalks, concealed their 
 movements; the man was still on the ladder. "La bonne 
 Esperance ! " said the soldier through his ground teeth, mut- 
 tering some old watchword of the wars, and (while Cesarini, 
 below, held the ladder steadfast) he rushed up the steps, and 
 with a sudden effort of his muscular arm, hurled the gardener 
 to the ground. The man, surprised, half stunned, and wholly 
 terrified, did not attempt to wrestle with the two madmen, 
 he uttered loud cries for help ! But help came too late ; these 
 strange and fearful comrades had already scaled the wall, 
 had dropped on the other side, and were fast making across 
 the dusky fields to the neighbouring forest. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOPES and Fears 
 
 Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge 
 Look down : on what ? a fathomless abyss ! YOUNG. 
 
 MIDNIGHT and intense frost ! There they were house- 
 less and breadless the two fugitives, in the heart of that 
 beautiful forest which has rung to the horns of many a royal 
 chase. The soldier, whose youth had been inured to hard- 
 ships, and to the 'conquests which our mother-wit wrings from 
 the stepdame Nature, had made a fire by the friction of two 
 pieces of dry wood ; such wood was hard to be found, for the 
 snow whitened the level ground, and lay deep in the hollows ;
 
 330 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and when it was discovered, the fuel was slow to burn ; how- 
 ever, the fire blazed red at last. On a little mound, shaded 
 by a semicircle of huge trees, sat the Outlaws of Human Rea- 
 son. They cowered over the blaze opposite to each other, and 
 the glare crimsoned their features. And each in his heart 
 longed to rid himself of his mad neighbour ; and each felt the 
 awe of solitude, the dread of sleep beside a comrade whose 
 soul had lost God's light ! 
 
 " Ho ! " said the warrior, breaking a silence that had been 
 long kept, " this is cold work at the best, and hunger pinches 
 me; I almost regret the prison." 
 
 "I do not feel the cold," said Cesarini, "and I do not care 
 for hunger : I am revelling only in the sense of liberty ! " 
 
 "Try and sleep," quoth the soldier, with a coaxing and 
 sinister softness of voice; "we will take it by turns to 
 watch." 
 
 "I cannot sleep, take you the first turn." 
 
 " Hark ye, sir ! " said the soldier sullenly ; " I must not 
 have my commands disputed; now we are free, we are no 
 longer equal : I am heir to the crowns of France and Navarre. 
 Sleep, I say ! " 
 
 "And what Prince or Potentate, King or Kaiser," cried 
 Cesarini, catching the quick contagion of the fit that had 
 seized his comrade, " can dictate to the monarch of Earth and 
 Air, the Elements and the music-breathing Stars? I am 
 Cesarini the Bard! and the huntsman Orion halts in his 
 chase above to listen to my lyre ! Be stilled, rude man ! 
 thou scarest away the angels, whose breath even now was 
 rushing through my hair ! " 
 
 "It is too horrible! " cried the grim man of blood, shiver- 
 ing ; " my enemies are relentless, and give me a madman for 
 a jailer ! " 
 
 " Ha ! a madman ! " exclaimed Cesarini, springing to his 
 feet, and glaring at the soldier with eyes that caught and 
 rivalled the blaze of the fire. "And who are you? what 
 devil from the deep hell, that art leagued with my persecu- 
 tors against me?" 
 
 With the instinct of his old calling and valour, the soldier
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 331 
 
 also rose when he saw the movement of his companion; and 
 his fierce features worked with rage and fear. 
 
 " Avaunt! " said he, waving his arm; "we banish thee from 
 our presence! This is our palace! and our guards are at 
 hand ! " pointing to the still and skeleton trees that grouped 
 round in ghastly bareness. "Begone! " 
 
 At that moment they heard at a distance the deep barking 
 of a dog, and each cried simultaneously, " They are after me ! 
 betrayed ! " The soldier sprang at the throat of Cesarini ; 
 but the Italian, at the same instant, caught a half-burned 
 brand from the fire, and dashed the blazing end in the face of 
 his assailant. The soldier uttered a cry of pain, and recoiled 
 back, blinded and dismayed. Cesarini, whose madness, when 
 fairly roused, was of the most deadly nature, again raised his 
 weapon, and probably nothing but death could have separated 
 the foes ; but again the bay of the dog was heard, and Cesarini, 
 answering the sound by a wild yell, threw down the brand, 
 and fled away through the forest with inconceivable swift- 
 ness. He hurried on through bush and dell, and the 
 boughs tore his garments and mangled his 'flesh, but 
 stopped not his progress till he fell at last on the ground, 
 breathless and exhausted, and heard from some far-off clock 
 the second hour of morning. He had left the forest ; a farm- 
 house stood before him, and the whitened roofs of scattered 
 cottages sloped to the tranquil sky. The witness of man 
 the social tranquil sky and the reasoning man operated like 
 a charm upon the senses which recent excitement had more 
 than usually disturbed. The unhappy wretch gazed at the 
 peaceful abodes, and sighed heavily; then, rising from the 
 earth, he crept into one of the sheds that adjoined the farm- 
 house, and throwing himself on some straw, slept sound and 
 quietly till daylight, and the voices of peasants in the shed 
 awakened him. 
 
 He rose refreshed, calm, and, for ordinary purposes, suffi- 
 ciently sane to prevent suspicion of his disease. He ap- 
 proached the startled peasants, and representing himself as 
 a traveller who had lost his way in the night and amidst the 
 forest, begged for food and water. Though his garments
 
 332 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 were torn, they were new and of good fashion; his voice was 
 mild; his whole appearance and address those of one of some 
 station and the French peasant is a hospitable fellow. 
 Cesarini refreshed and rested himself an hour or two at the 
 farm, and then resumed his wanderings ; he offered no money, 
 for the rules of the asylum forbade money to its inmates, 
 he had none with him ; but none was expected from him, and 
 they bade him farewell as kindly as if he had bought their 
 blessings. He then began to consider where he was to take 
 refuge, and how provide for himself; the feeling of liberty 
 braced, and for a time restored, his intellect. 
 
 Fortunately, he had on his person, besides some rings of 
 trifling cost, a watch of no inconsiderable value, the sale of 
 which might support him, in such obscure and humble quar- 
 ter as he could alone venture to inhabit, for several weeks, 
 perhaps months. This thought made him cheerful and elated; 
 he walked lustily on, shunning the high road. The day was 
 clear, the sun bright, the air full of racy health. Oh, what 
 soft raptures swelled the heart of the wanderer, as he gazed 
 around him! The Poet and the Freeman alike stirred within 
 his shattered heart ! He paused to contemplate the berries of 
 the icy trees, to listen to the sharp glee of the blackbird; and 
 once when he found beneath a hedge a cold, scentless group 
 of hardy violets he laughed aloud in his joy. In that laugh- 
 ter there was no madness, no danger; but when as he jour- 
 neyed on, he passed through a little hamlet, and saw the 
 children at play upon the ground, and heard from the open 
 door of a cabin the sound of rustic music, then indeed he 
 paused abruptly; the past gathered over him: he knew that 
 which he had been, that which he was now ! an awful mem- 
 ory! a dread revelation! And, covering his face with his 
 hands, he wept aloud. In those tears were the peril and 
 method of madness. He woke from them to think of his 
 youth, his hopes, of Florence, of revenge! Lumley Lord 
 Vargrave! better, from that hour, to encounter the tiger in 
 his lair than find thyself alone with that miserable man !
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 333 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT seemed the laurel chaste and stubborn oak, 
 And all the gentle trees on earth that grew, 
 It seemed the land, the sea, and heaven above, 
 All breathed out fancy sweet, and sighed out love. 
 
 FAIRFAX'S Tasso. 
 
 AT De Montaigne's villa, Evelyn, for the first time, gath- 
 ered from the looks, the manners, of Maltravers that she was 
 beloved. It was no longer possible to mistake the evidences 
 of affection. Formerly, Maltravers had availed himself of 
 his advantage of years and experience, and would warn, ad- 
 monish, dispute, even reprove; formerly, there had been so 
 much of seeming caprice, of cold distance, of sudden and way- 
 ward haughtiness, in his bearing; but now the whole man 
 was changed, the Mentor had vanished in the Lover ; he 
 held his being on her breath. Her lightest pleasure seemed 
 to have grown his law, no coldness ever alternated the deep 
 devotion of his manner ; an anxious, a timid, a watchful soft- 
 ness replaced all his stately self-possession. Evelyn saw that 
 she was loved; and she then looked into her own heart. 
 
 I have said before that Evelyn was gentle, even to yielding- 
 ness ; that her susceptibility made her shrink from the thought 
 of pain to another : and so thoroughly did she revere Maltrav- 
 ers, so grateful did she feel for a love that could not but flat- 
 ter pride, and raise her in her self-esteem, that she felt it 
 impossible that she could reject his suit. " Then, do I love 
 him as I dreamed I could love?" she asked herself; and her 
 heart gave no intelligible reply. " Yes, it must be so ; in his 
 presence I feel a tranquil and eloquent charm ; his praise de- 
 lights me; his esteem is my most high ambition; and yet 
 and yet " she sighed and thought of Legard ; " but he 
 loved me not!" and she turned restlessly from that image. 
 "He thinks but of the world, of pleasure; Maltravers is
 
 334 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 right, the spoiled children of society cannot love : why 
 should I think of him?" 
 
 There were no guests at the villa, except Maltravers, 
 Evelyn, and Lord and Lady Doltimore. Evelyn was much 
 captivated by the graceful vivacity of Teresa, though that 
 vivacity was not what it had been before her brother's afflic- 
 tion ; their children, some of whom had grown up, constituted 
 an amiable and intelligent family ; and De Montaigne himself 
 was agreeable and winning, despite his sober manners and his 
 love of philosophical dispute. Evelyn often listened thought- 
 fully to Teresa's praises of her husband, to her account of 
 the happiness she had known in a marriage where there had 
 been so great a disparity of years; Evelyn began to question 
 the truth of her early visions of romance. 
 
 Caroline saw the unequivocal attachment of Maltravers with 
 the same indifference with which she had anticipated the suit 
 of LegardL It was the same to her what hand delivered Eve- 
 lyn and herself from the designs of Vargrave; but Vargrave 
 occupied nearly all her thoughts. The newspapers had re- 
 ported him as seriously ill, at one time in great danger. 
 He was now recovering, but still unable to quit his room. 
 He had written to her once, lamenting his ill-fortune, trust- 
 ing soon to be at Paris ; and touching, with evident pleasure, 
 upon Legard's departure for Vienna, which he had seen in the 
 "Morning Post." But he was afar alone, ill, untended; 
 and though Caroline's guilty love had been much abated by 
 Vargrave's icy selfishness, by absence and remorse, still she had 
 the heart of a woman, and Vargrave was the only one that 
 had ever touched it. She felt for him, and grieved in silence ; 
 she did not dare to utter sympathy aloud, for Doltimore had 
 already given evidence of a suspicious and jealous temper. 
 
 Evelyn was also deeply affected by the account of her guar- 
 dian's illness. As I before said, the moment he ceased to be 
 her lover, her childish affection for him returned. She even 
 permitted herself to write to him ; and a tone of melancholy 
 depression which artfully pervaded his reply struck her with 
 something like remorse. He told her in the letter that he 
 had much to say to her relative to an investment, in conform-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 335 
 
 ity with her stepfather's wishes, and he should hasten to 
 Paris, even before the doctor would sanction his removal. 
 Vargrave forbore to mention what the meditated investment 
 was. The last public accounts of the minister had, however, 
 been so favourable, that his arrival might be almost daily 
 expected; and both Caroline and Evelyn felt relieved. 
 
 To De Montaigne, Maltravers confided his attachment, and 
 both the Frenchman and Teresa sanctioned and encouraged it. 
 Evelyn enchanted them; and they had passed that age when 
 they could have imagined it possible that the man they had 
 known almost as a boy was separated by years from the lively 
 feelings and extreme youth of Evelyn. They could not be- 
 lieve that the sentiments he had inspired were colder than 
 those that animated himself. 
 
 One day, Maltravers had been absent for some hours on his 
 solitary rambles, and De Montaigne had not yet returned from 
 Paris, which he visited almost daily. It was so late in the 
 noon as almost to border on evening, when Maltravers, on his 
 return, entered the grounds by a gate that separated them 
 from an extensive wood. He saw Evelyn, Teresa, and two 
 of her children walking on a terrace immediately before him. 
 He joined them ; and, somehow or other, it soon chanced that 
 Teresa and himself loitered behind the rest, a little, out of 
 hearing. "Ah, Mr. Maltravers," said the former, "we miss 
 the soft skies of Italy and the beautiful hues of Como." 
 
 " And, for my part, I miss the youth that gave ' glory to 
 the grass and splendour to the flower. ' " 
 
 "Kay; we are happier now, believe me, or at least I 
 should be, if But I must not think of my poor brother. 
 Ah, if his guilt deprived you of one who was worthy of you, 
 it would be some comfort to his sister to think at last that the 
 loss was repaired. And you still have scruples? " 
 
 " Who that loves truly has not? How young, how lovely, 
 how worthy of lighter hearts and fairer forms than mine! 
 Give me back the years that have passed since we last met at 
 Como, and I might hope ! " 
 
 "And this to me who have enjoyed such happiness with one 
 older, when we married, by ten years than you are now! "
 
 336 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 " But you, Teresa, were born to see life through the Claude 
 glass." 
 
 "Ah, you provoke me with these refinements; you turn 
 from a happiness you have but to demand." 
 
 "Do not do not raise my hopes too high," cried Mal- 
 travers, with great emotion; "I have been schooling myself 
 all day. But if I am deceived ! " 
 
 " Trust me, you are not. See, even now she turns round to 
 look for you; she loves you, loves you as you deserve. This 
 difference of years that you so lament does but deepen and ele- 
 vate her attachment ! " 
 
 Teresa turned to Maltravers, surprised at his silence. How 
 joyous sat his heart upon his looks, no gloom on his brow, 
 no doubt in his sparkling eyes! He was mortal, and he 
 yielded to the delight of believing himself beloved. He 
 pressed Teresa's hand in silence, and, quitting her abruptly, 
 gained the side of Evelyn. Madame de Montaigne compre- 
 hended all that passed within him ; and as she followed, she 
 soon contrived to detach her children, and returned with them 
 to the house on a whispered pretence of seeing if their father 
 had yet arrived. Evelyn and Maltravers continued to walk 
 on, not aware, at first, that the rest of the party were not 
 close behind. 
 
 The sun had set; and they were in a part of the grounds 
 which, by way of contrast to the rest, was laid out in the 
 English fashion ; the walk wound, serpent-like, among a pro- 
 fusion of evergreens irregularly planted; the scene was shut 
 in and bounded, except where at a distance, through an open- 
 ing of the trees, you caught the spire of a distant church, over 
 which glimmered, faint and fair, the smile of the evening 
 star. 
 
 "This reminds me of home," said Evelyn, gently. 
 
 "And hereafter it will remind me of you," said Maltravers, 
 in whispered accents. He fixed his eyes on her as he spoke. 
 Never had his look been so true to his heart; never had his 
 voice so undisguisedly expressed the profound and passionate 
 sentiment which had sprung up within him, to constitute, 
 as he then believed, the latest bliss, or the crowning misery,
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 337 
 
 of his life ! At that moment, it was a sort of instinct that 
 told him they were alone ; for who has not felt in those few 
 and memorable hours of life when love long suppressed over- 
 flows the fountain, and seems to pervade the whole frame and 
 the whole spirit that there is a magic around and within us 
 that hath a keener intelligence than intellect itself? Alone 
 at such an hour with the one we love, the whole world besides 
 seems to vanish, and our feet to have entered the soil, and our 
 lips to have caught the air, of Fairyland. 
 
 They were alone. And why did Evelyn tremble? Why 
 did she feel that a crisis of existence was at hand? 
 
 "Miss Cameron Evelyn," said Mai travers, after they had 
 walked some moments in silence, "hear me and let your 
 reason as well as your heart reply. From the first moment 
 we met, you became dear to me. Yes, even when a child, 
 your sweetness and your fortitude foretold so well what you 
 would be in womanhood; even then you left upon my mem- 
 ory a delightful and mysterious shadow, too prophetic of 
 the light that now hallows and wraps your image! We met 
 again, Ind the attraction that had drawn me towards you 
 years before was suddenly renewed. I love you, Evelyn! I 
 love you better than all words can tell! Your future fate, 
 your welfare, your happiness, contain and embody all the 
 hopes left to me in life! But our years are different, Evelyn; 
 I have known sorrows, and the disappointments and the 
 experience that have severed me from the common world have 
 robbed me of more than time itself hath done. They have 
 robbed me of that zest for the ordinary pleasures of our race, 
 which may it be yours, sweet Evelyn, ever to retain ! To 
 me, the time foretold by the Preacher as the lot of age has 
 already arrived, when the sun and the moon are darkened, 
 and when, save in you and through you, I have no pleasure 
 in anything. Judge, if such a being you can love! Judge, 
 if my very confession does not revolt and chill, if it does not 
 present to you a gloomy and cheerless future, were it possible 
 that you could unite your lot to mine! Answer not from 
 friendship or from pity; the love I feel for you can have a 
 reply from love alone, and from that reasoning which love, in 
 
 22
 
 338 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 its enduring power, in its healthful confidence, in its pro- 
 phetic foresight, alone supplies ! I can resign you without a 
 murmur; but I could not live with you and even fancy that 
 you had one care I could not soothe, though you might have 
 happiness I could not share. And fate does not present to 
 me any vision so dark and terrible no, not your loss itself; 
 no, not your indifference; no, not your aversion as your 
 discovery, after time should m?ke regret in vain, that you 
 had mistaken fancy or friendship for affection, a sentiment for 
 love. Evelyn, I have confided to you all, all this wild 
 heart, now and evermore your own. My destiny is with 
 you." 
 
 Evelyn was silent; he took her hand, and her tears fell 
 warm and fast upon it. Alarmed and anxious, he drew her 
 towards him and gazed upon her face. 
 
 "You fear to wound me," he said, with pale lips and trem- 
 bling voice. " Speak on, I can bear all." 
 
 "No, no," said Evelyn, falteringly; "I have no fear but 
 not to deserve you." 
 
 " You love me, then, you love me ! " cried Maltravers 
 wildly, and clasping her to his heart. 
 
 The moon rose at that instant, and the wintry sward and 
 the dark trees were bathed in the sudden light. The time 
 the light so exquisite to all, even in loneliness and in sor- 
 row how divine in such companionship! in such overflow- 
 ing and ineffable sense of bliss ! There and then for the first 
 time did Maltravers press upon that modest and blushing 
 cheek the kiss of Love, of Hope, the seal of a union he 
 fondly hoped the grave itself could not dissolve !
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 339 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Queen, Whereon do you look ? 
 
 Hamlet. On him, on him, look you how pale he glares ! Hamlet. 
 
 PEKHAPS to Maltravers those few minutes which ensued, as 
 they walked slowly on, compensated for all the troubles and 
 cares of years ; for natures like his feel joy even yet more in- 
 tensely than sorrow. It might be that the transport, the delir- 
 ium of passionate and grateful thoughts that he poured forth, 
 when at last he could summon words, expressed feelings the 
 young Evelyn could not comprehend, and which less delighted 
 than terrified her with the new responsibility she had incurred. 
 But love so honest, so generous, so intense, dazzled and be- 
 wildered and carried her whole soul away. Certainly at that 
 hour she felt no regret no thought but that one in whom 
 she had so long recognized something nobler than is found in 
 the common world was thus happy and thus made happy by a 
 word, a look from her! Such a thought is woman's dearest 
 triumph ; and one so thoroughly unselfish, so yielding, and so 
 soft, could not be insensible to the rapture she had caused. 
 
 " And oh ! " said Maltravers, as he clasped again and again 
 the hand that he believed he had won forever, " now, at length, 
 have I learned how beautiful is life! For this for this I 
 have been reserved! Heaven is merciful to me, and the wak- 
 ing world is brighter than all my dreams ! " 
 
 He ceased abruptly. At that instant they were once more 
 on the terrace where he had first joined Teresa, facing the 
 wood, which was divided by a slight and low palisade from 
 the spot where they stood. He ceased abruptly, for his eyes 
 encountered a terrible and ominous apparition, a form con- 
 nected with dreary associations of fate and woe. The figure 
 had raised itself upon a pile of firewood on the other side of 
 the fence, and hence it seemed almost gigantic in its stature. 
 It gazed upon the pair with eyes that burned with a preter-
 
 340 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 natural blaze, and a voice which Maltravers too well remem- 
 bered shrieked out "Love! love! What! thou love again? 
 Where is the Dead! Ha, ha! Where is the Dead?" 
 
 Evelyn, startled by the words, looked up, and clung in 
 speechless terror to Maltravers. He remained rooted to the 
 spot. 
 
 " Unhappy man, " said he, at length, and soothingly, " how 
 came you hither? Fly not, you are with friends." 
 
 "Friends!" said the maniac, with a scornful laugh. "I 
 know thee, Ernest Maltravers, I know thee : but it is not 
 thou who hast locked me up in darkness and in hell, side by 
 side with the mocking fiend! Friends! ah, but no Friends 
 shall catch me now! I am free! I am free! Air and wave 
 are not more free ! " And the madman laughed with horrible 
 glee. " She is fair fair, " he said, abruptly checking him- 
 self, and with a changed voice, " but not so fair as the Dead. 
 Faithless that thou art and yet she loved thee! Woe to 
 thee! woe! Maltravers, the perfidious! Woe to thee and 
 remorse and shame ! " 
 
 "Fear not, Evelyn, fear not," whispered Maltravers, 
 gently, and placing her behind him; "support your cour- 
 age, nothing shall harm you." 
 
 Evelyn, though very pale, and trembling from head to foot, 
 retained her senses. Maltravers advanced towards the mad- 
 man. But no sooner did the quick eye of the last perceive 
 the movement, than, with the fear which belongs to that 
 dread disease, the fear of losing liberty, he turned, and 
 with a loud cry fled into the wood. Maltravers leaped over 
 the fence, and pursued him some way in vain. The thick 
 copses of the wood snatched every trace of the fugitive from 
 his eye. 
 
 Breathless and exhausted, Maltravers returned to the spot 
 where he had left Evelyn. As he reached it, he saw Teresa 
 and her husband approaching towards him, and Teresa's 
 merry laugh sounded clear and musical in the racy air. The 
 sound appalled him; he hastened his steps to Evelyn. 
 
 " Say nothing of what we have seen to Madame de Mon- 
 taigne, I beseech you," said he; "I will explain why here- 
 after."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 341 
 
 Evelyn, too overcome to speak, nodded her acquiescence. 
 They joined the De Montaignes, and Maltravers took the 
 Frenchman aside. 
 
 But before he could address him, De Montaigne said, 
 
 " Hush ! do not alarm my wife she knows nothing ; but I 
 have just heard at Paris, that that he has escaped you 
 know whom I mean? " 
 
 "I do; he is at hand; send in search of him! I have seen 
 him. Once more I have seen Castruccio Cesarini! "
 
 BOOK IX. 
 
 A? a? 1 T8' $$i) $ta<j>avi). SOPHOCLES : (Ed. Tyr. 754. 
 " Woe, woe : all things are clear." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE privilege that statesmen ever claim, 
 Who private interest never yet pursued, 
 But still pretended 't was for others' good. 
 
 From hence on every humorous wind that veered 
 With shifted sails a several course you steered. 
 
 Absalom and Achitophel, Part ii. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE had for more than a fortnight remained at 
 the inn at M , too ill to be removed with safety in a sea- 
 son so severe. Even when at last, by easy stages, he reached 
 London, he was subjected to a relapse; and his recovery was 
 slow and gradual. Hitherto unused to sickness, he bore his 
 confinement with extreme impatience ; and against the com- 
 mands of his physician insisted on continuing to transact his 
 official business, and consult with his political friends in his 
 sick-room; for Lumley knew well, that it is most pernicious 
 to public men to be considered failing in health, turkeys 
 are not more unfeeling to a sick brother than politicians to 
 an ailing statesman; they give out that his head is touched, 
 and see paralysis and epilepsy in every speech and every de- 
 spatch. The time, too, nearly ripe for his great schemes, 
 made it doubly necessary that he should exert himself, and 
 prevent being shelved with a plausible excuse of tender com-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 343 
 
 passion for his infirmities. As soon therefore as he learned 
 that Legard had left Paris, he thought himself safe for a 
 while in that quarter, and surrendered his thoughts wholly to 
 his ambitious projects. Perhaps, too, with the susceptible 
 vanity of a middle-aged man, who has had his bonnes fortunes, 
 Lumley deemed, with Rousseau, that a lover, pale and hag- 
 gard just raised from the bed of suffering is more inter- 
 esting to friendship than attractive to love. He and Rousseau 
 were, I believe, both mistaken ; but that is a matter of opin- 
 ion : they both thought very coarsely of women, one from 
 having no sentiment, and the other from having a sentiment 
 that was but a disease. At length, just as Lumley was suffi- 
 ciently recovered to quit his house, to appear at his office, and 
 declare that his illness had wonderfully improved his consti- 
 tution, intelligence from Paris, the more startling from being 
 wholly unexpected, reached him. From Caroline he learned 
 that Maltravers had proposed to Evelyn, and been accepted. 
 From Maltravers himself he heard the confirmation of the 
 news. The last letter was short, but kind and manly. He 
 addressed Lord Vargrave as Evelyn's guardian; slightly 
 alluded to the scruples he had entertained till Lord Var- 
 grave's suit was broken off; and feeling the subject too deli- 
 cate for a letter, expressed a desire to confer with Lumley 
 respecting Evelyn's wishes as to certain arrangements in her 
 property. 
 
 And for this was it that Lumley had toiled! for this had he 
 visited Lisle Court! and for this had he been stricken down 
 to the bed of pain! Was it only to make his old rival the 
 purchaser, if he so pleased it, of the possessions of his own 
 family? Lumley thought at that moment less of Evelyn than 
 of Lisle Court. As he woke from the stupor and the first fit 
 of rage into which these epistles cast him, the recollection of 
 the story he had heard from Mr. Onslow flashed across him. 
 Were his suspicions true, what a secret he would possess! 
 How fate might yet befriend him! Not a moment was to be 
 lost. Weak, suffering as he still was, he ordered his carriage, 
 and hastened down to Mrs. Leslie. 
 
 In the interview that took place, he was careful not to
 
 344 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 alarm her into discretion. He managed the conference with 
 his usual consummate dexterity. He did not appear to believe 
 that there had been any actual connection between Alice and 
 the supposed Butler. He began by simply asking whether 
 Alice had ever, in early life, been acquainted with a person 
 of that name, and when residing in the neighbourhood of 
 
 . The change of countenance, the surprised start of 
 
 Mrs. Leslie, convinced him that his suspicions were true. 
 
 ''And why do you ask, my lord?" said the old lady. "Is 
 it to ascertain this point that you have done me the honour to 
 visit me?" 
 
 "Not exactly, my dear madam," said Lumley, smiling. 
 
 "But I am going to C on business; and besides that I 
 
 wished to give an account of your health to Evelyn, whom 
 I shall shortly see at Paris, I certainly did desire to know 
 whether it would be any gratification to Lady Vargrave, for 
 whom I have the deepest regard, to renew her acquaintance 
 with the said Mr. Butler." 
 
 " What does your lordship know of him? What is he; who 
 is he?" 
 
 " Ah, my dear lady, you turn the tables on me, I see, for 
 my one question you would give me fifty. But, seriously, 
 before I answer you, you must tell me whether Lady Vargrave 
 does know a gentleman of that name; yet, indeed, to save 
 trouble, I may as well inform you, that I know it was under 
 
 that name that she resided at C , when my poor uncle first 
 
 made her acquaintance. What I ought to ask is this, sup- 
 posing Mr. Butler be still alive, and a gentleman of character 
 and fortune, would it please Lady Vargrave to meet with him 
 once more? " 
 
 "I cannot tell you," said Mrs. Leslie, sinking back in her 
 chair, much embarrassed. ^ 
 
 " Enough, I shall not stir further in the matter. Glad to 
 see you looking so well. Fine place, beautiful trees. Any 
 commands at C , or any message for Evelyn?" 
 
 Lumley rose to depart. 
 
 "Stay," said Mrs. Leslie, recalling all the pining, restless, 
 untiring love that Lady Vargrave had manifested towards the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 345 
 
 lost, and feeling that she ought not to sacrifice to slight scru- 
 ples the chance of happiness for her friend's future years, 
 "stay; I think this question you should address to Lady Var- 
 grave, or shall 1?" 
 
 "As you will, perhaps I had better write. Good-day," 
 and Vargrave hurried away. 
 
 He had satisfied himself, but he had another yet to satisfy, 
 and that, from certain reasons known but to himself, with- 
 out bringing the third person in contact with Lady Vargrave. 
 
 On arriving at C he wrote, therefore, to Lady Vargrave 
 
 as follows : 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, Do not think me impertinent or intrusive 
 but you know me too well for that. A gentleman of the name of Butler 
 
 is exceedingly anxious to ascertain if you once lived near , in a 
 
 pretty little cottage, Dove, or Dale, or Dell cottage (some such appel- 
 lation), and if you remember a person of his name. Should you 
 care to give a reply to these queries, send me a line addressed to Lon- 
 don, which I shall get on my way to Paris. 
 Yours most truly, 
 
 VARGRAVE. 
 
 As soon as he had concluded, and despatched this letter, 
 Vargrave wrote to Mr. Winsley as follows ; 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, I am so unwell as to be unable to call on you, or 
 even to see any one, however agreeable (nay, the more agreeable the 
 more exciting !). I hope, however, to renew our personal acquaintance 
 
 before quitting C . Meanwhile, oblige me with a line to say if I did 
 
 not understand you to signify that you could, if necessary, prove that 
 Lady Vargrave once resided in this town as Mrs. Butler, a very short 
 time before she married my uncle, under the name of Cameron, in Dev- 
 onshire ; and had she not also at that time a little girl, an infant, or 
 nearly so, who must necessarily be the young lady who is my uncle's 
 heiress, Miss Evelyn Cameron. My reason for thus troubling you is 
 obvious. As Miss Cameron's guardian, 1 have very shortly to wind up 
 certain affairs connected with my uncle's will ; and, what is more, there 
 is some property bequeathed by the late Mr. Butler, which may make it 
 necessary to prove identity. 
 
 Truly yours, 
 
 VARGRAVE.
 
 346 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 The answer to the latter communication ran thus : 
 
 " MY LORD, I am very sorry to hear your lordship is so unwell, and 
 will pay my respects to-morrow. I certainly can swear that the present 
 
 Lady Vargrave was the Mrs. Butler who resided at C , and taught 
 
 music. And as the child with her was of the same sex, and about the 
 same age as Miss Cameron, there can, I should think, be no difficulty in 
 establishing the identity between that young lady and the child Lady 
 Vargrave had by her first husband, Mr. Butler ; but of this, of course, 
 I cannot speak. 
 
 "I have the honour, etc." 
 
 The next morning Vargrave despatched a note to Mr. 
 Winsley, saying that his health required him to return to 
 town immediately, and to town, in fact, he hastened. The 
 day after his arrival, he received, in a hurried hand 
 strangely blurred and blotted, perhaps by tears this short 
 letter : 
 
 For Heaven's sake, tell me what you mean ! Yes, yes, I did once 
 reside at Dale Cottage, I did know one of the name of Butler ! Has he 
 discovered the name / bear ? Where is he ? I implore you to write, or 
 let me see you before you leave England ! 
 
 ALICE VARGRAVE. 
 
 Lumley smiled triumphantly when he read and carefully 
 put up this letter. 
 
 " I must now amuse and put her off at all events for the 
 present." 
 
 In answer to Lady Vargrave's letter, he wrote a few lines 
 to say that he had only heard through a third person (a law- 
 yer) of a Mr. Butler residing somewhere abroad, who had 
 wished these inquiries to be made; that he believed it only 
 related to some disposition of property; that, perhaps, the 
 Mr. Butler who made the inquiry was heir to the Mr. Butler 
 she had known; that he could learn nothing else at present, 
 as the purport of her reply must be sent abroad, the lawyer 
 would or could say nothing more; that directly he received a 
 further communication it should be despatched to her, that he 
 was most affectionately and most truly hers. 
 
 The rest of that morning Vargrave devoted to Lord Saxing-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 347 
 
 ham and his allies; and declaring, and believing, that he 
 should not be long absent at Paris, he took an early dinner, 
 and was about once more to commit himself to the risks of 
 travel, when, as he crossed the hall, Mr. Douce came hastily 
 upon him. 
 
 "My lord my lord I must have a word with your 
 1-1 -lordship ; you are going to that is " (and the little 
 man looked frightened) " you intend to to go to that is 
 ab-ab-ab " 
 
 "Not abscond, Mr. Douce; come into the library: I am in 
 a great hurry, but I have always time for you. What 's the 
 matter? " 
 
 " Why, then, my lord, I I have heard nothing 
 m-m-more from your lordship about the pur-pur " 
 
 "Purchase? I am going to Paris, to settle all particulars 
 with Miss Cameron; tell the lawyers so." 
 
 "May may we draw out the money to to show 
 that that we are in earnest? Otherwise I fear that is, I 
 suspect I mean I know, that Colonel Maltravers will be off 
 the bargain." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Douce, really I must just see my ward first; 
 but you shall hear from me in a day or two ; and the ten 
 thousand pounds I owe you ! " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, the ten ten ten ! my partner is 
 very " 
 
 "Anxious for it, no doubt! My compliments to him. 
 God bless you ! take care of yourself, must be off to save 
 the packet; " and Vargrave hurried away, muttering, "Heaven 
 sends money, and the devil sends duns ! " 
 
 Douce gasped like a fish for breath, as his eyes followed the 
 rapid steps of Vargrave ; and there was an angry scowl of dis- 
 appointment on his small features. Luinley, by this time, 
 seated in his carriage, and wrapped up in his cloak, had for- 
 gotten the creditor's existence, and whispered to his aristo- 
 cratic secretary, as he bent his head out of the carriage 
 window, "I have told Lord Saxingham to despatch you to 
 me, if there is any the least necessity for me in London. 
 I leave you behind, Howard, because your sister being at
 
 348 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 court, and your cousin with our notable premier, you will 
 find out every change in the wind you understand. And, I 
 say, Howard, don't think I forget your kindness! you know 
 that no man ever served me in vain! Oh, there 's that horrid 
 little Douce behind you, tell them to drive on! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HEARD you that ? 
 What prodigy of horror is disclosing ? LILLO : Fatal Curiosity. 
 
 THE unhappy companion of Cesarini's flight was soon dis- 
 covered and recaptured; but all search for Cesarini himself 
 proved ineffectual, not only in the neighbourhood of St. 
 Cloud, but in the surrounding country and in Paris. The 
 only comfort was in thinking that his watch would at least 
 preserve him for some time from the horrors of want; and 
 that by the sale of the trinket, he might be traced. The 
 police, too, were set at work, the vigilant police of Paris ! 
 Still day rolled on day, and no tidings. The secret of the 
 escape was carefully concealed from Teresa; and public cares 
 were a sufficient excuse for the gloom on De Montaigne's 
 brow. 
 
 Evelyn heard from Maltr avers with mingled emotions of 
 compassion, grief, and awe the gloomy tale connected with 
 the history of the maniac. She wept for the fate of Florence ; 
 she shuddered at the curse that had fallen on Cesarini; and 
 perhaps Maltravers grew dearer to her from the thought that 
 there was so much in the memories of the past that needed a 
 comforter and a soother. 
 
 They returned to Paris, affianced and plighted lovers ; and 
 then it was that Evelyn sought carefully and resolutely to 
 banish from her mind all recollection, all regret, of the absent 
 Legard : she felt the solemnity of the trust confided in her,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 349 
 
 and she resolved that no thought of hers should ever be of a 
 nature to gall the generous and tender spirit that had confided 
 its life of life to her care. The influence of Maltravers over 
 her increased in their new and more familiar position, and 
 yet still it partook too much of veneration, too little of pas- 
 sion; but that might be her innocence and youth. He, at 
 least, was sensible of no want, she had chosen him from 
 the world; and fastidious as he deemed himself, he reposed, 
 without a doubt, on the security of her faith. None of those 
 presentiments which had haunted him when first betrothed to 
 Florence disturbed him now. The affection of one so young 
 and so guileless seemed to bring back to him all his own 
 youth we are ever young while the young can love us! 
 Suddenly, too, the world took to his eyes a brighter and 
 fairer aspect. Hope, born again, reconciled him to his career 
 and to his race! The more he listened to Evelyn, the more 
 he watched every evidence of her docile but generous nature, 
 the more he felt assured that he had found at last a heart 
 suited to his own. Her beautiful serenity of temper, cheer- 
 ful, yet never fitful or unquiet, gladdened him with its insen- 
 sible contagion. To be with Evelyn was like basking in the 
 sunshine of some happy sky! It was an inexpressible charm 
 to one wearied with " the hack sights and sounds " of this 
 jaded world, to watch the ever-fresh and sparkling thoughts 
 and fancies which came from a soul so new to life ! It en- 
 chanted one, painfully fastidious in what relates to the true 
 nobility of character, that, however various the themes dis- 
 cussed, no low or mean thought ever sullied those beautiful 
 lips. It was not the mere innocence of inexperience, but the 
 moral incapability of guile, that charmed him in the compan- 
 ion he had chosen on his path to Eternity! He was also 
 delighted to notice Evelyn's readiness of resources : she had 
 that faculty, without which woman has no independence from 
 the world, no pledge that domestic retirement will not soon 
 languish into wearisome monotony, the faculty of making 
 trifles contribute to occupation or amusement; she was easily 
 pleased, and yet she so soon reconciled herself to disappoint- 
 ment. He felt, and chid his own dulness for not feeling it
 
 350 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 before, that, young and surpassingly lovely as she was, she 
 required no stimulant from the heated pursuits and the hol- 
 low admiration of the crowd. 
 
 "Such," thought he, "are the natures that alone can pre- 
 serve through years the poetry of the first passionate illusion, 
 that can alone render wedlock the seal that confirms affection, 
 and not the mocking ceremonial that vainly consecrates its 
 grave ! " 
 
 Maltravers, as we have seen, formally wrote to Lumley 
 some days after their return to Paris. He would have writ- 
 ten also to Lady Vargrave, but Evelyn thought it best to pre- 
 pare her mother by a letter from herself. 
 
 Miss Cameron now wanted but a few weeks to the age of 
 eighteen, at which she was to be the sole mistress of her own 
 destiny. On arriving at that age the marriage was to take 
 place. Valerie heard with sincere delight of the new engage- 
 ment her friend had formed. She eagerly sought every op- 
 portunity to increase her intimacy with Evelyn, who was 
 completely won by her graceful kindness; the result of 
 Valerie's examination was, that she did not wonder at the 
 passionate love of Maltravers, but that her deep knowledge of 
 the human heart (that knowledge so remarkable in the women 
 of her country !) made her doubt how far it was adequately 
 returned, how far Evelyn deceived herself. Her first satis- 
 faction became mingled with anxiety, and she relied more for 
 the future felicity of her friend on Evelyn's purity of thought 
 and general tenderness of heart than on the exclusiveness and 
 ardour of her love. Alas ! few at eighteen are not too young 
 for the irrevocable step, and Evelyn was younger than her 
 years! One evening at Madame de Ventadour's Maltravers 
 asked Evelyn if she had yet heard from Lady Vargrave. 
 Evelyn expressed her surprise that she had not, and the con- 
 versation fell, as was natural, upon Lady Vargrave herself. 
 "Is she as fond of music as you are?" asked Maltravers. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I think so and of the songs of a certain 
 person in particular; they always had for her an indescriba- 
 ble charm. Often have I heard her say that to read your 
 writings was like talking to an early friend. Your name and
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 351 
 
 genius seemed to make her solitary connection with the great 
 world. Nay but you will not be angry I half think it 
 was her enthusiasm, so strange and rare, that first taught me 
 interest in yourself." 
 
 "I have a double reason, then, for loving your mother," 
 said Maltravers, much pleased and nattered. " And does she 
 not like Italian music?" 
 
 " Not much ; she prefers some rather old-fashioned German 
 airs, very simple, but very touching." 
 
 "My own early passion/' said Maltravers, more and more 
 interested. 
 
 "But there are also one or two English songs which I have 
 occasionally, but very seldom, heard her sing. One in espe- 
 cial affects her so deeply, even when she plays the air, that I 
 have always attached to it a certain mysterious sanctity. I 
 should not like to sing it before a crowd, but to-morrow, when 
 you call on me, and we are alone " 
 
 "Ah, to-morrow I will not fail to remind you." 
 
 Their conversation ceased; yet, somehow or other, that 
 night when he retired to rest the recollection of it haunted 
 Maltravers. He felt a vague, unaccountable curiosity respect- 
 ing this secluded and solitary mother ; all concerning her early 
 fate seemed so wrapped in mystery. Cleveland, in reply to 
 his letter, had informed him that all inquiries respecting the 
 birth and first marriage of Lady Vargrave had failed. Evelyn 
 evidently knew but little of either, and he felt a certain deli- 
 cacy in pressing questions which might be ascribed to the 
 inquisitiveness of a vulgar family pride. Moreover, lovers 
 have so much to say to each other, that he had not time to 
 talk at length to Evelyn about third persons. He slept ill 
 that night, dark and boding dreams disturbed his slumber. 
 He rose late and dejected by presentiments he could not mas- 
 ter : his morning meal was scarcely over, and he had already 
 taken his hat to go to Evelyn's for comfort and sunshine, 
 when the door opened, and he was surprised by the entrance 
 of Lord Vargrave. 
 
 Lumley seated himself with a formal gravity very unusual 
 to him, and as if anxious to waive unnecessary explanations,
 
 352 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 began as follows, with a serious and impressive voice and 
 aspect : 
 
 "Maltravers, of late years we have been estranged from 
 each other. I do not presume to dictate to you your friend- 
 ships or your dislikes. Why this estrangement has happened 
 you alone can determine. For my part I am conscious of no 
 offence; that which I was I am still. It is you who have 
 changed. Whether it be the difference of our political opin- 
 ions, or any other and more secret cause, I know not. I 
 lament, but it is now too late to attempt to remove it. If you 
 suspect me of ever seeking, or even wishing, to sow dissen- 
 sion between yourself and my ill-fated cousin, now DO more, 
 you are mistaken. I ever sought the happiness and union of 
 you both. And yet, Maltravers, you then came between me 
 and an early and cherished dream. But I suffered in silence ; 
 my course was at least disinterested, perhaps generous : let it 
 pass. A second time you cross my path, you win from me 
 a heart I had long learned to consider mine. You have no 
 scruple of early friendship, you have no forbearance towards 
 acknowledged and affianced ties. You are my rival with 
 Evelyn Cameron, and your suit has prospered." 
 
 "Vargrave," said Maltravers, "you have spoken frankly; 
 and I will reply with an equal candour. A difference of 
 tastes, tempers, and opinions led us long since into opposite 
 paths. I am one who cannot disunite public morality from 
 private virtue. From motives best known to you, but which 
 I say openly I hold to have been those of interest or ambi- 
 tion, you did not change your opinions (there is no sin in 
 that), but retaining them in private, professed others in pub- 
 lic, and played with the destinies of mankind as if they were 
 but counters to mark a mercenary game. This led me to 
 examine your character with more searching eyes; and I 
 found it one I could no longer trust. With respect to the 
 Dead, let the pall drop over that early grave, I acquit you 
 of all blame. He who sinned has suffered more than would 
 atone the crime! You charge me with my love to Evelyn. 
 Pardon me, but I seduced no affection, I have broken no tie. 
 Not till she was free in heart and in hand to choose between
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 353 
 
 us, did I hint at love. Let me think that a way may be found 
 to soften one portion at least of the disappointment you can- 
 not but feel acutely." 
 
 " Stay ! " said Lord Vargrave (who, plunged in a gloomy 
 revery, had scarcely seemed to hear the last few sentences of 
 his rival): "stay, Maltravers. Speak not of love to Evelyn! 
 A horrible foreboding tells me that, a few hours hence, you 
 would rather pluck out your tongue by the roots than couple 
 the words of love with the thought of that unfortunate girl! 
 Oh, if I were vindictive, what awful triumph would await 
 me now! What retaliation on your harsh judgment, your 
 cold contempt, your momentary and wretched victory over 
 me ! Heaven is my witness, that my only sentiment is that 
 of terror and woe! Maltravers, in your earliest youth, did 
 you form connection with one whom they called Alice 
 Darvil?" 
 
 "Alice! merciful Heaven! what of her?" 
 
 " Did you never know that the Christian name of Evelyn's 
 mother is Alice?" 
 
 "I never asked, I never knew; but it is a common name," 
 faltered Maltravers. 
 
 "Listen to me," resumed Vargrave: "with Alice Darvil 
 you lived in the neighbourhood of , did you not?" 
 
 "Goon, goon!" 
 
 " You took the name of Butler ; by that name Alice Darvil 
 was afterwards known in the town in which my uncle resided 
 there are gaps in the history that I cannot of my own 
 knowledge fill up, she taught music ; my uncle became en- 
 amoured of her, but he was vain and worldly. She removed 
 into Devonshire, and he married her there, under the name 
 of Cameron, by which name he hoped to conceal from the 
 world the lowness of her origin, and the humble calling she 
 had followed. Hold! do not interrupt me. Alice had one 
 daughter, as was supposed, by a former marriage ; that daugh- 
 ter was the offspring of him whose name she bore yes, of 
 the false Butler ! that daughter is Evelyn Cameron ! " 
 
 "Liar! devil!" cried Maltravers, springing to his feet, as 
 if a shot had pierced his heart. " Proofs ! proofs ! " 
 
 23
 
 354 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 "Will these suffice?" said Vargrave, as lie drew forth the 
 letters of Winsley and Lady Vargrave. Maltravers took 
 them, but it was some moments before he could dare to 
 read. He supported himself with difficulty from falling to 
 the ground; there was a gurgle in his throat like the sound of 
 the death-rattle ; at last he read, and dropped the letters from 
 his hand. 
 
 "Wait me here," he said very faintly, and moved mechani- 
 cally to the door. 
 
 "Hold!" said Lord Vargrave, laying his hand upon 
 Ernest's arm. "Listen to me for Evelyn's sake, for her 
 mother's. You are about to seek Evelyn, be it so ! I 
 know that you possess the god-like gift of self-control. You 
 will not suffer her to learn that her mother has done that 
 which dishonours alike mother and child? You will not con- 
 summate your wrong to Alice Darvil by robbing her of the 
 fruit of a life of penitence and remorse? You will not unveil 
 her shame to her own daughter? Convince yourself, and 
 master yourself while you do so ! " 
 
 "Fear me not," said Maltravers, with a terrible smile; "I 
 will not afflict my conscience with a double curse. As I have 
 sowed, so must I reap. Wait me here ! " 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 . . . MlSEET 
 
 That gathers force each moment as it rolls, 
 
 And must, at last, o'erwhelm me. LILLO : Fatal Curiosity. 
 
 MALTRAVERS found Evelyn alone ; she turned towards him 
 with her usual sweet smile of welcome; but the smile vanished 
 at once, as her eyes met his changed and working countenance ; 
 cold drops stood upon the rigid and marble brow, the lips 
 writhed as if in bodily torture, the muscles of the face had
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 355 
 
 fallen, and there was a wildness which appalled her in the 
 fixed and feverish brightness of the eyes. 
 
 "You are ill, Ernest, dear Ernest, you are ill, your 
 look freezes me ! " 
 
 "Nay, Evelyn," said Maltravers, recovering himself by one 
 of those efforts of which men who have suffered without sym- 
 pathy are alone capable, " nay, I am better now ; I have 
 been ill very ill but I am better ! " 
 
 "111! and I not know of it?" She attempted to take his 
 hand as she spoke. Maltravers recoiled. 
 
 " It is fire ! it burns ! Avaunt ! " he cried, frantically. " 
 Heaven ! spare me, spare me ! " 
 
 Evelyn was not seriously alarmed; she gazed on him with 
 the tenderest compassion. Was this one of those moody and 
 overwhelming paroxysms to which it had been whispered 
 abroad that he was subject? Strange as it may seem, despite 
 her terror, he was dearer to her in that hour as she believed, 
 of gloom and darkness than in all the glory of his majestic 
 intellect, or all the blandishments of his soft address. 
 
 "What has happened to you?" she said, approaching him 
 again; "have you seen Lord Vargrave? I know that he has 
 arrived, for his servant has been here to say so ; has he uttered 
 anything to distress you? or has " (she added falteringly 
 and timidly) "has poor Evelyn offended you? Speak to 
 me, only speak ! " 
 
 Maltravers turned, and his face was now calm and serene : 
 save by its extreme and almost ghastly paleness, no trace of 
 the hell within him could be discovered. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, gently, "I know not this morning 
 what I say or do ; think not of it, think not of me, it will 
 pass away when I hear your voice." 
 
 " Shall I sing to you the words I spoke of last night? See, 
 I have them ready ; I know them by heart, but I thought you 
 might like to read them, they are so full of simple but deep 
 feeling." 
 
 Maltravers took the song from her hands, and bent over 
 the paper; at first, the letters seemed dim and indistinct, for 
 there was a mist before his eyes; but at last a chord of mem-
 
 356 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ory was struck, he recalled the words : they were some of 
 those he had composed for Alice in the first days of their deli- 
 cious intercourse, links of the golden chain, in which he had 
 sought to bind the spirit of knowledge to that of love. 
 
 "And from whom," said he, in a faint voice, as he calmly 
 put down the verses, " from whom did your mother learn 
 these words?" 
 
 "I know not; some dear friend, years ago, composed and 
 gave them to her. It must have been one very dear to her, 
 to judge by the effect they still produce." 
 
 "Think you," said Maltravers, in a hollow voice, "think 
 
 yOU IT WAS YOUR FATHER? " 
 
 " My father ! She never speaks of him ! I have been early 
 taught to shun all allusion to his memory. My father ! it 
 is probable; yes, it may have been my father; whom else 
 could she have loved so fondly?" 
 
 There was a long silence ; Evelyn was the first to break it. 
 
 "I have heard from my mother to-day, Ernest; her letter 
 alarms me, I scarce know why ! " 
 
 "Ah! and how " 
 
 " It is hurried and incoherent, almost wild : she says she 
 has learned some intelligence that has unsettled and unstrung 
 her mind; she has requested me to inquire if any one I am 
 acquainted with has heard of, or met abroad, some person of 
 the name of Butler. You start! have you known one of 
 that name? " 
 
 "I! did your mother never allude to that name before? " 
 
 " Never ! and yet, once I remember " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That I was reading an account in the papers of the sudden 
 death of some Mr. Butler ; and her agitation made a powerful 
 and strange impression upon me, in fact, she fainted, and 
 seemed almost delirious when she recovered; she would not 
 rest till I had completed the account, and when I came to 
 the particulars of his age, etc. (he was old, I think) she 
 clasped her hands, and wept; but they seemed tears of joy. 
 The name is so common whom of that name have you 
 known?"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 357 
 
 "It is no matter. Is that your mother's letter; is that her 
 handwriting? " 
 
 " Yes ; " and Evelyn gave the letter to Maltravers. He 
 glanced over the characters ; he had once or twice seen Lady 
 Vargrave's handwriting before, and had recognized no likeness 
 between that handwriting and such early specimens of Alice's 
 art as he had witnessed so many years ago ; but now, " trifles 
 light as air " had grown " confirmation strong as proof of Holy 
 Writ," he thought he detected Alice in every line of the 
 hurried and blotted scroll; and when his eye rested on the 
 words, " Your affectionate MOTHER, Alice ! " his blood curdled 
 in his veins. 
 
 " It is strange ! " said he, still struggling for self -compos- 
 ure ; " strange that I never thought of asking her name before ! 
 Alice! her name is Alice?" 
 
 "A sweet name, is it not? It accords so well with her 
 simple character how you would love her! " 
 
 As she said this, Evelyn turned to Maltravers with enthu- 
 siasm, and again she was startled by his aspect; for again it 
 was haggard, distorted, and convulsed. 
 
 "Oh, if you love me," she cried, "do send immediately for 
 advice! And yet, is it illness, Ernest, or is it some grief 
 that you hide from me?" 
 
 "It is illness, Evelyn," said Maltravers, rising: and his 
 knees knocked together. " I am not fit even for your com- 
 panionship, I will go home." 
 
 "And send instantly for advice?" 
 
 "Ay; it waits me there already." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! and you will write to me one little word 
 to relieve me? I am so uneasy! " 
 
 "I will write to you." 
 
 "This evening?" 
 
 "Ay!" 
 
 "Now go, I will not detain you." 
 
 He walked slowly to the door, but when he reached it he 
 turned, and catching her anxious gaze, he opened his arms ; 
 overpowered with strange fear and affectionate sympathy, she 
 burst into passionate tears ; and surprised out of the timidity
 
 358 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and reserve which had hitherto characterized her pure and 
 meek attachment to him, she fell on his breast, and sobbed 
 aloud. Maltravers raised his hands, and, placing them sol- 
 emnly on her young head, his lips muttered as if in prayer. 
 He paused, and strained her to his heart ; but he shunned that 
 parting kiss, which, hitherto, he had so fondly sought. That 
 embrace was one of agony, and not of rapture ; and yet Eve- 
 lyn dreamed not that he designed it for the last! 
 
 Maltravers re-entered the room in which he had left Lord 
 Vargrave, who still awaited his return. 
 
 He walked up to Lumley, and held out his hand. "You 
 have saved me from a dreadful crime, from an everlasting 
 remorse. I thank you! " 
 
 Hardened and frigid as his nature was, Lumley was 
 touched; the movement of Maltravers took him by surprise. 
 "It has been a dreadful duty, Ernest," said he, pressing the 
 hand he held ; " but to come, too, from me, your rival ! " 
 
 "Proceed, proceed, I pray you; explain all this yet 
 explanation! what do I want to know? Evelyn is my daugh- 
 ter, Alice's child ! For Heaven's sake, give me hope ; say 
 it is not so; say that she is Alice's child, but not mine! 
 Father ! father ! and they call it a holy name it is a hor- 
 rible one ! " 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dear friend : recollect what you have 
 escaped ! You will recover this shock. Time, travel " 
 
 " Peace, man, peace ! Now then I am calm ! When Alice 
 left me she had no child. I knew not that she bore within 
 her the pledge of our ill-omened and erring love. Verily, 
 the sins of my youth have arisen against me; and the curse 
 has come home to roost ! " 
 
 "I cannot explain to you all details." 
 
 "But why not have told me of this? Why not have warned 
 me; why not have said to me, when my heart could have been 
 satisfied by so sweet a tie, ' Thou hast a daughter : thou art not 
 desolate ' ? Why reserve the knowledge of the blessing until 
 it has turned to poison? Fiend that you are! you have waited 
 this hour to gloat over the agony from which a word from you
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 359 
 
 a year, nay, a month ago a little month ago might have 
 saved me and her ! " 
 
 Maltravers, as he spoke, approached Vargrave, with eyes 
 sparkling with fierce passion, his hand clenched, his form 
 dilated, the veins on his forehead swelled like cords. Lum- 
 ley, brave as he was, recoiled. 
 
 "I knew not of this secret," said he, deprecatingly, "till a 
 few days before I came hither ; and I came hither at once to 
 disclose it to you. Will you listen to me? I knew that my 
 uncle had married a person much beneath him in rank ; but 
 he was guarded and cautious, and I knew no more, except that 
 by a first husband that lady had one daughter, Evelyn. A 
 chain of accidents suddenly acquainted me with the rest." 
 
 Here Vargrave pretty faithfully repeated what he had 
 
 learned from the brewer at C , and from Mr. Onslow; 
 
 but when he came to the tacit confirmation of all his suspi- 
 cions received from Mrs. Leslie, he greatly exaggerated and 
 greatly distorted the account. "Judge, then," concluded 
 Lumley, "of the horror with which I heard that you had 
 declared an attachment to Evelyn, and that it was returned. 
 Ill as I was, I hastened hither: you know the rest. Are you 
 satisfied?" 
 
 " I will go to Alice ! I will learn from her own lips yet, 
 how can I meet her again? How say to her, ' I have taken 
 from thee thy last hope, I have broken thy child's heart '?" 
 
 " Forgive me, but I should confess to you, that, from all I 
 can learn from Mrs. Leslie, Lady Vargrave has but one prayer, 
 one hope in life, that she may never again meet with her 
 betrayer. You may, indeed, in her own letter perceive how 
 much she is terrified by the thought of your discovering her. 
 She has, at length, recovered peace of mind and tranquillity 
 of conscience. She shrinks with dread from the prospect of 
 ever again encountering one once so dear, now associated in 
 her mind with recollections of guilt and sorrow. More than 
 this, she is sensitively alive to the fear of shame, to the dread 
 of detection. If ever her daughter were to know her sin, it 
 would be to her as a death-blow. Yet in her nervous state of 
 health, her ever-quick and uncontrollable feelings, if you
 
 360 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 were to meet her, she would disguise nothing, conceal 
 nothing. The veil would be torn aside : the menials in her 
 own house would tell the tale, and curiosity circulate, and 
 scandal blacken the story of her early errors. No, Mal- 
 travers, at least wait awhile before you see her; wait till 
 her mind can be prepared for such an interview, till precau- 
 tions can be taken, till you yourself are in a calmer state of 
 mind." 
 
 Maltravers fixed his piercing eyes on Lumley while he thus 
 spoke, and listened in deep attention. 
 
 "It matters not," said he, after a long pause, "whether 
 these be your real reasons for wishing to defer or prevent a 
 meeting between Alice and myself. The affliction that has 
 come upon me bursts with too clear and scorching a blaze of 
 light for me to see any chance of escape or mitigation. Even 
 if Evelyn were the daughter of Alice by another, she would 
 be forever separated from me. The mother and the child! 
 there is a kind of incest even in that thought ! But such an 
 alleviation of my anguish is forbidden to my reason. No, 
 poor Alice, I will not disturb the repose thou hast won at 
 last! Thou shalt never have the grief to know that our error 
 has brought upon thy lover so black a doom ! All is over ! the 
 world never shall find me again. Nothing is left for me but 
 the desert and the grave ! " 
 
 "Speak not so, Ernest," said Lord Vargrave, soothingly; 
 " a little while, and you will recover this blow : your control 
 over passion has, even in youth, inspired me with admiration 
 and surprise ; and now, in calmer years, and with such incen- 
 tives to self-mastery, your triumph will come sooner than you 
 think. Evelyn, too, is so young; she has not known you 
 long ; perhaps her love, after all, is that caused by some mys- 
 tic, but innocent working of nature, and she would rejoice to 
 call you ' father.' Happy years are yet in store for you." 
 
 Maltravers did not listen to these vain and hollow consola- 
 tions. With his head drooping on his bosom, his whole form 
 unnerved, the large tears rolling unheeded down his cheeks, 
 he seemed the very picture of a broken-hearted man, whom 
 fate never again could raise from despair. He, who had, for
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 361 
 
 years, so cased himself in pride, on whose very front was 
 engraved the victory over passion and misfortune, whose step 
 had trod the earth in the royalty of the conqueror ; the veriest 
 slave that crawls bore not a spirit more humbled, fallen, or 
 subdued! He who had looked with haughty eyes on the in- 
 firmities of others, who had disdained to serve his race because 
 of their human follies and partial frailties, he, even he, the 
 Pharisee of Genius, had but escaped by a chance, and by 
 the hand of the man he suspected and despised, from a crime 
 at which nature herself recoils, which all law, social and 
 divine, stigmatizes as inexpiable, which the sternest imagina- 
 tion of the very heathen had invented as the gloomiest catas- 
 trophe that can befall the wisdom and the pride of mortals ! 
 But one step farther, and the fabulous CEdipus had not been 
 more accursed! 
 
 Such thoughts as these, unformed, confused, but strong 
 enough to bow him to the dust, passed through the mind of 
 this wretched man. He had been familiar with grief, he had 
 been dull to enjoyment; sad and bitter memories had con- 
 sumed his manhood: but pride had been left him still; and 
 he had dared in his secret heart to say, " I can defy Fate ! " 
 Now the bolt had fallen ; Pride was shattered into fragments, 
 Self-abasement was his companion, Shame sat upon his pros- 
 trate soul. The Future had no hope left in store. Nothing 
 was left for him but to die ! 
 
 Lord Var grave gazed at him in real pain, in sincere com- 
 passion; for his nature, wily, deceitful, perfidious though it 
 was, had cruelty only so far as was necessary to the unrelent- 
 ing execution of his schemes. No pity could swerve him 
 from a purpose ; but he had enough of the man within him to 
 feel pity not the less, even for his own victim! At length 
 Maltravers lifted his head, and waved his hand gently to Lord 
 Vargrave. 
 
 "All is now explained," said he, in a feeble voice; "our 
 interview is over. I must be alone ; I have yet to collect my 
 reason, to commune calmly and deliberately with myself; I 
 have to write to her to invent, to lie, I, who believed 
 I could never, never utter, even to an enemy, what was false !
 
 362 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES, 
 
 And I must not soften the blow to her. I must not utter a 
 word of love, love, it is incest ! I must endeavour brutally 
 to crush out the very affection I created! She must hate me! 
 oh, teach her to hate me! Blacken my name, traduce my 
 motives, let her believe them levity or perfidy, what you 
 will. So will she forget me the sooner; so will she the easier 
 bear the sorrow which the father brings upon the child. And 
 she has not sinned! Heaven, the sin was mine! Let my 
 punishment be a sacrifice that Thou wilt accept for her ! " 
 
 Lord Vargrave attempted again to console; but this time 
 the words died upon his lips. His arts failed him. Mal- 
 travers turned impatiently away and pointed to the door. 
 
 "I will see you again," said he, "before I quit Paris; leave 
 your address below." 
 
 Vargrave was not, perhaps, unwilling to terminate a scene 
 so painful : he muttered a few incoherent words, and abruptly 
 withdrew. He heard the door locked behind him as he de- 
 parted. Ernest Maltravers was alone ! what a solitude ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PITT me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall unfold. Hamlet. 
 
 LETTER FROM ERNEST MALTRAVERS TO EVELYN 
 CAMERON. 
 
 EVELYN ! 
 
 All that you have read of faithlessness and perfidy will 
 seem tame to you when compared with that conduct which 
 you are doomed to meet from me. We must part, and for- 
 ever. We have seen each other for the last time. It is boot- 
 less even to ask the cause. Believe that I am fickle, false, 
 heartless, that a whim has changed me, if you will. My 
 resolve is unalterable. We meet no more even as friends. I 
 do not ask you either to forgive or to remember me. Look on
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 363 
 
 me as one wholly unworthy even of resentment ! Do not think 
 that I write this in madness or in fever or excitement. Judge 
 me not by my seeming illness this morning. I invent no 
 excuse, no extenuation, for my broken faith and perjured vows. 
 Calmly, coldly, and deliberately I write; and thus writing, I 
 renounce your love. 
 
 This language is wanton cruelty, it is fiendish insult, 
 is it not, Evelyn? Am I not a villain? Are you not grateful 
 for your escape? Do you not look on the past with a shudder 
 at the precipice on which you stood? 
 
 I have done with this subject, I turn to another. We are 
 parted, Evelyn, and forever. Do not fancy, I repeat, do 
 not fancy that there is any error, any strange infatuation on 
 my mind, that there is any possibility that the sentence can 
 be annulled. It were almost easier to call the dead from the 
 grave than bring us again together, as we were and as we 
 hoped to be. Now that you are convinced of that truth, 
 learn, as soon as you have recovered the first shock of know- 
 ing how much wickedness there is on earth, learn to turn 
 to the future for happier and more suitable ties than those 
 you could have formed with me. You are very young; in 
 youth our first impressions are lively but evanescent, you 
 will wonder hereafter at having fancied you loved me. An- 
 other and a fairer image will replace mine. This is what I 
 desire and pray for. As soon as I learn that you love another, 
 that you are wedded to another, I will re-appear in the world ; 
 till then, I am a wanderer and an exile. Your hand alone can 
 efface from my brow the brand of Cain ! When I am gone, 
 Lord Vargrave will probably renew his suit. I would rather 
 you married one of your own years, one whom you could 
 love fondly, one who would chase away every remembrance of 
 the wretch who now forsakes you. But perhaps I have mis- 
 taken Lord Vargrave's character; perhaps he maybe worthier 
 of you than I deemed (/ who set up for the censor of other 
 men!); perhaps he may both win and deserve your affection. 
 
 Evelyn, farewell ! God, who tempers the wind to the shorn 
 lamb, will watch over you ! 
 
 ERNEST MALTRAVERS.
 
 364 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OUR acts our angels are, or good or ill, 
 
 The fatal shadows that walk by us still. JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 THE next morning came ; the carriage was at the door of 
 Maltravers, to bear him away he cared not whither. Where 
 could he fly from memory? He had just despatched the letter 
 to Evelyn, a letter studiously written for the object of de- 
 stroying all the affection to which he had so fondly looked as 
 the last charm of life. He was now only waiting for Var- 
 grave, to whom he had sent, and who hastened to obey the 
 summons. 
 
 When Lumley arrived, he was shocked at the alteration 
 which a single night had effected in the appearance of Mal- 
 travers ; but he was surprised and relieved to find him calm 
 and self-possessed. 
 
 "Vargrave," said Maltravers, "whatever our past coldness, 
 henceforth I owe to you an eternal gratitude ; and henceforth 
 this awful secret makes between us an indissoluble bond. If 
 I have understood you rightly, neither Alice nor other living 
 being than yourself know that in me, Ernest Maltravers, 
 stands the guilty object of Alice's first love. Let that secret 
 still be kept; relieve Alice's mind from the apprehension of 
 learning that the man who betrayed her yet lives : he will not 
 live long ! I leave time and method of explanation to your 
 own judgment and acuteness. Now for Evelyn." Here Mal- 
 travers stated generally the tone of the letter he had written. 
 Vargrave listened thoughtfully. 
 
 "Maltravers," said he, "it is right to try first the effect of 
 your letter. But if it fail, if it only serve to inflame the 
 imagination and excite the interest, if Evelyn still continue 
 to love you, if that love preys upon her, if it should under- 
 mine health and spirit, if it should destroy her?"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 365 
 
 Maltravers groaned. Lumley proceeded : " I say this not to 
 wound you, but to provide against all circumstances. I too 
 have spent the night in revolving what is best to be done in 
 such a case; and this is the plan I have formed. Let us, 
 if need be, tell the truth to Evelyn, robbing the truth only of 
 its shame. Nay, nay, listen. Why not say that under a bor- 
 rowed name and in the romance of early youth you knew and 
 loved Alice (though in innocence and honour)? Your tender 
 age, the difference of rank, forbade your union. Her father, 
 discovering your clandestine correspondence, suddenly re- 
 moved her from the country, and destroyed all clew for 
 your inquiries. You lost sight of each other, each was 
 taught to believe the other dead. Alice was compelled by 
 her father to marry Mr. Cameron; and after his death, her 
 poverty and her love for her only child induced her to accept 
 my uncle. You have now learned all, have learned that 
 Evelyn is the daughter of your first love, the daughter of one 
 who adores you still, and whose life your remembrance has for 
 so many years embittered. Evelyn herself will at once com- 
 prehend all the scruples of a delicate mind; Evelyn herself 
 will recoil from the thought of making the child the rival to 
 the mother. She will understand why you have flown from 
 her; she will sympathize with your struggles; she will recall 
 the constant melancholy of Alice ; she will hope that the ancient 
 love maybe renewed, and efface all grief; Generosity and Duty 
 alike will urge her to conquer her own affection! And here- 
 after, when time has restored you both, father and child may 
 meet with such sentiments as father and child may own! " 
 
 Maltravers was silent for some minutes ; at length he said 
 abruptly, " And you really loved her, Vargrave, you love 
 her still? Your dearest care must be her welfare." 
 
 "It is! indeed, it is!" 
 
 " Then I must trust to your discretion ; I can have no other 
 confidant; I myself am not fit to judge. My mind is dark- 
 ened you may be right I think so." 
 
 " One word more, she may discredit my tale, if unsup- 
 ported. Will you write one line to me to say that I am 
 authorized to reveal the secret, and that it is known only to
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 me? I will not use it unless I should think it absolutely 
 required." 
 
 Hastily and mechanically Maltravers wrote a few words to 
 the effect of what Lumley had suggested. "I will inform 
 you," he said to Vargrave as he gave him the paper, "of what- 
 ever spot may become my asylum ; and you can communicate 
 to me all that I dread and long to hear ; but let no man know 
 the refuge of despair! " 
 
 There was positively a tear in Vargrave 's cold eye, the 
 only tear that had glistened there for many years ; he paused 
 irresolute, then advanced, again halted, muttered to himself, 
 and turned aside. 
 
 "As for the world," Lumley resumed, after a pause, "your 
 engagement has been public, some public account of its 
 breach must be invented. You have always been considered 
 a proud man; we will say that it was low birth on the side of 
 both mother and father (the last only just discovered) that 
 broke off the alliance ! " 
 
 Vargrave was talking to the deaf : what cared Maltravers for 
 the world? He hastened from the room, threw himself into 
 his carriage, and Vargrave was left to plot, to hope, and to 
 aspire!
 
 BOOK X. 
 
 Ol\ov Ovtipov, HOMER, I, 3. 
 "A dream!" 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 QCALIS ubi in lucem coluber 
 
 . . . Mala gramina pastus. 1 VIRGIL. 
 
 Pars minima est ipsa puella sui. 2 OVID. 
 
 IT would be superfluous, and, perhaps, a sickening task, to 
 detail at length the mode and manner in which Vargrave 
 coiled his snares round the unfortunate girl whom his destiny 
 had marked out for his prey. He was right in foreseeing 
 that, after the first amazement caused by the letter of Mal- 
 travers, Evelyn would feel resentment crushed beneath her 
 certainty of his affection her incredulity at his self -accusa- 
 tions, and her secret conviction that some reverse, some mis- 
 fortune he was unwilling she should share, was the occasion 
 of his farewell and flight. Vargrave therefore very soon 
 communicated to Evelyn the tale he had suggested to Mal- 
 travers. He reminded her of the habitual sorrow, the evi- 
 dence of which was so visible in Lady Vargrave; of her 
 indifference to the pleasures of the world; of her sensitive 
 shrinking from all recurrence to her early fate. " The secret 
 of this," said he, "is in a youthful and most fervent attach- 
 ment ; your mother loved a young stranger above her in rank, 
 
 1 " As when a snake glides into light, having fed on pernicious pastures." 
 
 2 " The girl is the least part of himself."
 
 368 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 who (his head being full of German romance) was then roam- 
 ing about the country on pedestrian and adventurous excur- 
 sions, under the assumed name of Butler. By him she was 
 most ardently beloved in return. Her father, perhaps, sus- 
 pected the rank of her lover, and was fearful of her honour 
 being compromised. He was a strange man, that father! and 
 I know not his real character and motives ; but he suddenly 
 withdrew his daughter from the suit and search of her lover, 
 they saw each other no more ; her lover mourned her as one 
 dead. In process of time your mother was constrained by her 
 father to marry Mr. Cameron, and was left a widow with an 
 only child, yourself : she was poor, very poor ! and her 
 love and anxiety for you at last induced her to listen to the 
 addresses of my late uncle ; for your sake she married again ; 
 again death dissolved the tie! But still, unceasingly and 
 faithfully, she recalled that first love, the memory of which 
 darkened and embittered all her life, and still she lived upon 
 the hope to meet with the lost again. At last, and most 
 recently, it was my fate to discover that the object of this 
 unconquerable affection lived, was still free in hand if not 
 in heart: you behold the lover of your mother in Ernest Mal- 
 travers ! It devolved on me (an invidious a reluctant duty) 
 to inform Maltravers of the identity of Lady Vargrave with 
 the Alice of his boyish passion ; to prove to him her suffering, 
 patient, unsubdued affection; to convince him that the sole 
 hope left to her in life was that of one day or other beholding 
 him once again. You know Maltravers, his high-wrought, 
 sensitive, noble character; he recoiled in terror from the 
 thought of making his love to the daughter the last and bit- 
 terest affliction to the mother he had so loved; knowing too 
 how completely that mother had entwined herself round your 
 affections, he shuddered at the pain and self-reproach that 
 would be yours when you should discover to whom you had 
 been the rival, and whose the fond hopes and dreams that 
 your fatal beauty had destroyed. Tortured, despairing, and 
 half beside himself, he has fled from this ill-omened passion, 
 and in solitude he now seeks to subdue that passion. Touched 
 by the woe, the grief, of the Alice of his youth, it is his inten-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 369 
 
 tion, as soon as he can know you restored to happiness and 
 content, to hasten to your mother, and offer his future devo- 
 tion as the fulfilment of former vows. On you, and you 
 alone, it depends to restore Maltravers to the world, on 
 you alone it depends to bless the remaining years of the 
 mother who so dearly loves you ! " 
 
 It may be easily conceived with what sensations of wonder, 
 compassion, and dismay, Evelyn listened to this tale, the 
 progress of which her exclamations, her sobs, often inter- 
 rupted. She would write instantly to her mother, to Mal- 
 travers. Oh, how gladly she would relinquish his suit! 
 How cheerfully promise to rejoice in that desertion which 
 brought happiness to the mother she had so loved ! 
 
 "Nay," said Vargrave, "your mother must not know, till 
 the intelligence can be breathed by his lips, and softened by 
 his protestations of returning affection, that the mysterious 
 object of her early romance is that Maltravers whose vows 
 have been so lately offered to her own child. Would not such 
 intelligence shock all pride, and destroy all hope? How could 
 she then consent to the sacrifice which Maltravers is prepared 
 to make? No! not till you are another's not (to use the 
 words of Maltravers) till you are a happy and beloved wife 
 must your mother receive the returning homage of Maltravers ; 
 not till then can she know where that homage has been re- 
 cently rendered ; not till then can Maltravers feel justified in 
 the atonement he meditates. He is willing to sacrifice him- 
 self; he trembles at the thought of sacrificing you! Say 
 nothing to your mother, till from her own lips she tells you 
 that she has learned all." 
 
 Could Evelyn hesitate; could Evelyn doubt? To allay the 
 fears, to fulfil the prayers of the man whose conduct appeared 
 so generous, to restore him to peace and the world ; above all, 
 to pluck from the heart of that beloved and gentle mother the 
 rankling dart, to shed happiness over her fate, to reunite her 
 with the loved and lost, what sacrifice too great for this? 
 
 Ah, why was Legard absent? Why did she believe him 
 capricious, light, and false? Why had she shut her softest 
 thoughts from her soul? But he the true lover was afar, 
 
 24
 
 370 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and his true love unknown! and Vargrave, the watchful ser- 
 pent, was at hand. 
 
 In a fatal hour, and in the transport of that enthusiasm 
 which inspires alike our more rash and our more sublime 
 deeds, which makes us alike dupes and martyrs, the enthu- 
 siasm that tramples upon self, that forfeits all things to a 
 high-wrought zeal for others, Evelyn consented to become the 
 wife of Vargrave ! Nor was she at first sensible of the sacri- 
 fice, sensible of anything but the glow of a noble spirit and 
 an approving conscience. Yes, thus, and thus alone, did she 
 obey both duties, that, which she had well-nigh abandoned, 
 to her dead benefactor, and that to the living mother. After- 
 wards came a dread reaction; and then, at last, that passive 
 and sleep-like resignation, which is Despair under a milder 
 name. Yes, such a lot had been predestined from the first ; 
 in vain had she sought to fly it : Fate had overtaken her, and 
 she must submit to the decree ! 
 
 She was most anxious that the intelligence of the new bond 
 might be transmitted instantly to Maltravers. Vargrave 
 promised, but took care not to perform. He was too acute 
 not to know that in so sudden a step Evelyn's motives would 
 be apparent, and his own suit indelicate and ungenerous. 
 He was desirous that Maltravers should learn nothing till 
 the vows had been spoken, and the indissoluble chain forged. 
 Afraid to leave Evelyn, even for a day, afraid to trust her in 
 England to an interview with her mother, he remained at 
 Paris, and hurried on all the requisite preparations. He sent 
 to Douce, who came in person, with the deeds necessary for 
 the transfer of the money for the purchase of Lisle Court, 
 which was now to be immediately completed. The money 
 was to be lodged in Mr. Douce 's bank till the lawyers had 
 completed their operations ; and in a few weeks, when Evelyn 
 had attained the allotted age, Vargrave trusted to see himself 
 lord alike of the betrothed bride, and the hereditary lands of 
 the crushed Maltravers. He refrained from stating to Evelyn 
 who was the present proprietor of the estate to become hers ; 
 he foresaw all the objections she would form; and, indeed, 
 she was unable to think, to talk, of such matters. One
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 371 
 
 favour she had asked, and it had been granted, that she 
 was to be left unmolested to her solitude till the fatal day. 
 Shut up in her lonely room, condemned not to confide her 
 thoughts, to seek for sympathy even in her mother, the 
 poor girl in vain endeavoured to keep up to the tenor of her 
 first enthusiasm, and reconcile herself to a step, which, how- 
 ever, she was heroine enough not to retract or to repent, even 
 while she recoiled from its contemplation. 
 
 Lady Doltimore, amazed at what had passed, at the flight 
 of Maltravers, the success of Lumley, unable to account for 
 it, to extort explanation from Vargrave or from Evelyn, was 
 distracted by the fear of some villanous deceit which she could 
 not fathom. To escape herself she plunged yet more eagerly 
 into the gay vortex. Vargrave, suspicious, and fearful of 
 trusting to what she might say in her nervous and excited 
 temper if removed from his watchful eye, deemed himself 
 compelled to hover round her. His manner, his conduct, were 
 most guarded; but Caroline herself, jealous, irritated, unset- 
 tled, evinced at times a right both to familiarity and anger, 
 which drew upon her and himself the sly vigilance of slander. 
 Meanwhile Lord Doltimore, though too cold and proud openly 
 to notice what passed around him, seemed disturbed and 
 anxious. His manner to Vargrave was distant; he shunned 
 all tete-a-tetes with his wife. Little, however, of this did 
 Lumley heed. A few weeks more, and all would be well and 
 safe. Vargrave did not publish his engagement with Evelyn : 
 he sought carefully to conceal it till the very day was near at 
 hand; but it was whispered abroad; some laughed, some be- 
 lieved. Evelyn herself was seen nowhere. De Montaigne 
 had, at first, been indignantly incredulous at the report that 
 Maltravers had broken off a connection he had so desired from 
 a motive so weak and unworthy as that of mere family pride. 
 A letter from Maltravers, who confided to him and Vargrave 
 alone the secret of his retreat, reluctantly convinced him that 
 the wise are but pompous fools ; he was angry and disgusted ; 
 and still more so when Valerie and Teresa (for female friends 
 stand by us right or wrong) hinted at excuses, or surmised 
 that other causes lurked behind the one alleged. But his
 
 372 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 thoughts were much drawn from this subject by increasing 
 anxiety for Cesarini, whose abode and fate still remained an 
 alarming mystery. 
 
 It so happened that Lord Doltimore, who had always had a 
 taste for the antique, and who was greatly displeased with 
 his own family-seat because it was comfortable and modern, 
 fell, from ennui, into a habit, fashionable enough in Paris, of 
 buying curiosities and cabinets, high-back chairs and oak- 
 carvings; and with this habit returned the desire and the 
 affection for Burleigh. Understanding from Lumley that 
 Maltravers had probably left his native land forever, he 
 imagined it extremely probable that the latter would now 
 consent to the sale, and he begged Vargrave to forward a 
 letter from him to that effect. 
 
 Vargrave made some excuse, for he felt that nothing could 
 be more indelicate than such an application forwarded through 
 his hands at such a time; and Doltimore, who had acciden- 
 tally heard De Montaigne confess that he knew the address 
 of Maltravers, quietly sent his letter to the Frenchman, and, 
 without mentioning its contents, begged him to forward it. 
 De Montaigne did so. Now it is very strange how slight 
 men and slight incidents bear on the great events of life ; but 
 that simple letter was instrumental to a new .revolution in the 
 strange history of Maltravers. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 QUID frustra simulacra fugacia captas ? 
 Quod petis est nusquam. 1 OVID : Met. iii. 432. 
 
 To no clime dedicated to the indulgence of majestic griefs 
 or to the soft melancholy of regret not to thy glaciers, or 
 thy dark-blue lakes, beautiful Switzerland, mother of many 
 
 i Why, in vain, do you catch at fleeting shadows ? That which you seek 
 is nowhere."
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 373 
 
 exiles; nor to thy fairer earth and gentler heaven, sweet 
 Italy, fled the agonized Maltravers. Once, in his wander- 
 ings, he had chanced to pass by a landscape so steeped in 
 sullen and desolate gloom, that it had made a powerful and 
 uneffaced impression upon his mind: it was amidst those 
 swamps and morasses that formerly surrounded the castle of 
 Gil de Retz, the ambitious Lord, the dreaded Necromancer, 
 who perished at the stake, after a career of such power and 
 splendour as seemed almost to justify the dark belief in his 
 preternatural agencies. 1 
 
 Here, in a lonely and wretched inn, remote from other 
 habitations, Maltravers fixed himself. In gentler griefs there 
 is a sort of luxury in bodily discomfort ; in his inexorable and 
 unmitigated anguish, bodily discomfort was not felt. There 
 is a kind of magnetism in extreme woe, by which the body 
 itself seems laid asleep, and knows no distinction between the 
 bed of Damiens and the rose-couch of the Sybarite. He left 
 his carriage and servants at a post-house some miles distant. 
 He came to this dreary abode alone; and in that wintry sea- 
 son, and that most disconsolate scene, his gloomy soul found 
 something congenial, something that did not mock him, in 
 the frowns of the haggard and dismal Nature. Vain would it 
 be to describe what he then felt, what he then endured. Suf- 
 fice it that, through all, the diviner strength of man was not 
 wholly crushed, and that daily, nightly, hourly, he prayed to 
 the Great Comforter to assist him in wrestling against a guilty 
 love. No man struggles so honestly, so ardently as he did, 
 utterly in vain; for in us all, if we would but cherish it, 
 there is a spirit that must rise at last a crowned, if bleed- 
 ing conqueror over Fate and all the Demons ! 
 
 One day after a prolonged silence from Vargrave, whose 
 letters all breathed comfort and assurance in Evelyn's pro- 
 gressive recovery of spirit and hope, his messenger returned 
 from the post-town with a letter in the hand of De Montaigne. 
 It contained, in a blank envelope (De Montaigne's silence told 
 
 i See, for description of this scenery, and the fate of De Retz, the high- 
 wrought and glowing romance by Mr. Ritchie called " The Magician."
 
 374 ALICE; OR, THE MASTERIES. 
 
 Mm how much he had lost in the esteem of his friend), the 
 communication of Lord Doltimore. It ran thus : 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, As T hear that your plans are likely to make you a 
 long resident on the Continent, may I again inquire if you would be in- 
 duced to dispose of Burleigh ? I am willing to give more than its real 
 value, and would raise a mortgage on my own property sufficient to pay 
 off, at once, the whole purchase-money. Perhaps you may be the more 
 induced to the sale from the circumstance of having an example in the 
 head of your family, Colonel Maltravers, as I learn through Lord Var- 
 grave, having resolved to dispose of Lisle Court. Waiting your answer, 
 I am, dear Sir, truly yours, 
 
 DOLTIMORE. 
 
 "Ay," said Maltravers, bitterly, crushing the letter in his 
 hand, "let our name be blotted out from the land, and our 
 hearths pass to the stranger. How could I ever visit the 
 place where I first saw her ? " 
 
 He resolved at once, he would write to England, and 
 place the matter in the hands of agents. This was but a 
 short-lived diversion to his thoughts, and their cloudy dark- 
 ness soon gathered round him again. 
 
 What I am now about to relate may appear, to a hasty 
 criticism, to savour of the Supernatural; but it is easily 
 accounted for by ordinary agencies, and it is strictly to the 
 letter of the truth. 
 
 In his sleep that night a dream appeared to Maltravers. 
 He thought he was alone in the old library at Burleigh, and 
 gazing on the portrait of his mother ; as he so gazed, he fancied 
 that a cold and awful tremor seized upon him, that he in vain 
 endeavoured to withdraw his eyes from the canvas his sight 
 was chained there by an irresistible spell. Then it seemed 
 to him that the portrait gradually changed, the features the 
 same, but the bloom vanished into a white and ghastly hue ; 
 the colours of the dress faded, their fashion grew more large 
 and flowing, but heavy and rigid as if cut in stone, the 
 robes of the grave. But on the face there was a soft and 
 melancholy smile, that took from its livid aspect the natural 
 horror; the lips moved, and, it seemed as if without a sound, 
 the released soul spoke to that which the earth yet owned.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 375 
 
 "Beturn," it said, "to thy native land, and thine own 
 home. Leave not the last relic of her who bore and yet 
 watches over thee to stranger hands. Thy good Angel shall 
 meet thee at thy hearth ! " 
 
 The voice ceased. With a violent effort Maltravers broke 
 the spell that had forbidden his utterance. He called aloud, 
 and the dream vanished : he was broad awake, his hair erect, 
 the cold dews on his brow. The pallet, rather than bed on 
 which he lay, was opposite to the window, and the wintry 
 moonlight streamed wan and spectral into the cheerless room. 
 But between himself and the light there seemed to stand a 
 shape, a shadow, that into which the portrait had changed in 
 his dream, that which had accosted and chilled his soul. 
 He sprang forward, "My mother! even in the grave canst 
 thou bless thy wretched son! Oh, leave me not say that 
 thou " The delusion vanished, and Maltravers fell back 
 insensible. 
 
 It was long in vain, when, in the healthful light of day, he 
 revolved this memorable dream, that Maltravers sought to 
 convince himself that dreams need no ministers from heaven 
 or _ hell to bring the gliding falsehoods along the paths of 
 sleep; that the effect of that dream itself, on his shattered 
 nerves, his excited fancy, was the real and sole raiser of the 
 spectre he had thought to behold on waking. Long was it 
 before his judgment could gain the victory, and reason dis- 
 own the empire of a turbulent imagination ; and even when 
 at length reluctantly convinced, the dream still haunted him, 
 and he could not shake it from his breast. He longed anx- 
 iously for the next night; it came, but it brought neither 
 dreams nor sleep, and the rain beat, and the winds howled, 
 against the casement. Another night, and the moon was 
 again bright; and he fell into a deep sleep; no vision dis- 
 turbed or hallowed it. He woke ashamed of his own expec- 
 tation. But the event, such as it was, by giving a new turn 
 to his thoughts, had roused and relieved his spirit, and misery 
 sat upon him with a lighter load. Perhaps, too, to that still 
 haunting recollection was mainly owing a change in his 
 former purpose. He would still sell the old Hall; but he
 
 376 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 would first return, and remove that holy portrait, with pious 
 hands ; he would garner up and save all that had belonged to 
 her whose death had been his birth. Ah, never had she 
 known for what trials the infant had been reserved ! 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE weary hours steal on 
 And flaky darkness breaks. Richard III. 
 
 ONCE more, suddenly and unlocked for, the lord of Burleigh 
 appeared at the gates of his deserted hall ! and again the old 
 housekeeper and her satellites were thrown into dismay and 
 consternation. Amidst blank and welcomeless faces, Mal- 
 travers passed into his study : and as soon as the logs burned 
 and the bustle was over, and he was left alone, he took up 
 the light and passed into the adjoining library. It was then 
 about nine o'clock in the evening; the air of the room felt 
 damp and chill, and the light but faintly struggled against 
 the mournful gloom of the dark book-lined walls and sombre 
 tapestry. He placed the candle on the table, and drawing 
 aside the curtain that veiled the portrait, gazed with deep 
 emotion, not unmixed with awe, upon the beautiful face 
 whose eyes seemed fixed upon him with mournful sweetness. 
 There is something mystical about those painted ghosts of 
 ourselves, that survive our very dust! Who, gazing upon 
 them long and wistfully, does not half fancy that they seem 
 not insensible to his gaze, as if we looked our own life into 
 them, and the eyes that followed us where we moved were 
 animated by a stranger art than the mere trick of the limner's 
 colours? 
 
 With folded arms, rapt and motionless, Maltravers contem- 
 plated the form that, by the upward rays of the flickering 
 light, seemed to bend down towards the desolate son. How 
 had he ever loved the memory of his mother ! how often in
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 377 
 
 his childish years had he stolen away, and shed wild tears for 
 the loss of that dearest of earthly ties, never to be compen- 
 sated, never to be replaced! How had he respected, how 
 sympathized with the very repugnance which his father had 
 at first testified toAvards him, as the innocent cause of her 
 untimely death! He had never seen her, never felt her 
 passionate kiss ; and yet it seemed to him, as he gazed, as if 
 he had known her for years. That strange kind of inner and 
 spiritual memory which often recalls to us places and persons 
 we have never seen before, and which Platonists would re- 
 solve to the unquenched and struggling consciousness of a 
 former life, stirred within him, and seemed to whisper, " You 
 were united in the old time." "Yes!" he said, half aloud, 
 " we will never part again. Blessed be the delusion of the 
 dream that recalled to my heart the remembrance of thee, 
 which, at least, I can cherish without a sin. ' My good angel 
 shall meet me at my hearth ! ' so didst thou say in the solemn 
 vision. Ah, does thy soul watch over me still? How long 
 shall it be before the barrier is broken ! how long before we 
 meet, but not in dreams ! " 
 
 The door opened, the housekeeper looked in. " I beg par- 
 don, sir, but I thought your honour would excuse the liberty, 
 though I know it is very bold to " 
 
 " What is the matter? What do you want? " 
 
 " Why, sir, poor Mrs. Elton is dying, they say she 
 cannot get over the night; and as the carriage drove by the 
 cottage window, the nurse told her that the squire was re- 
 turned; and she has sent up the nurse to entreat to see your 
 honour before she dies. I am sure I was most loth to disturb 
 you, sir, with such a message ; and says I, the squire has only 
 just come off a journey " 
 
 "Who is Mrs. Elton?" 
 
 "Don't your honour remember the poor woman that was 
 run over, and you were so good to, and brought into the house 
 the day Miss Cameron " 
 
 " I remember, say I will be with her in a few minutes. 
 About to die ! " muttered Maltravers ; " she is to be envied, 
 the prisoner is let loose, the bark leaves the desert isle ! "
 
 378 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 He took his hat and walked across the park, dimly lighted 
 by the stars, to the cottage of the sufferer. He reached her 
 bedside, and took her hand kindly. She seemed to rally at the 
 sight of him; the nurse was dismissed, they were left alone. 
 
 Before morning, the spirit had left that humble clay; and 
 the mists of dawn were heavy on the grass as Maltravers 
 returned home. There were then on his countenance the 
 traces of recent and strong emotion, and his step was elastic, 
 and his cheek flushed. Hope once more broke within him, 
 but mingled with doubt, and faintly combated by reason. In 
 another hour Maltravers was on his way to Brook-Green. 
 Impatient, restless, fevered, he urged on the horses, he sowed 
 the road with gold; and at length the wheels stopped before 
 the door of the village inn. He descended, asked the way 
 to the curate's house; and crossing the burial-ground, and 
 passing under the shadow of the old yew-tree, entered 
 Aubrey's garden. The curate was at home, and the confer- 
 ence that ensued was of deep and breathless interest to the 
 visitor. 
 
 It is now time to place before the reader, in due order and 
 connection, the incidents of that story, the knowledge of 
 which, at that period, broke in detached and fragmentary 
 portions on Maltravers. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I CANKA chuse, but ever will 
 Be luving to thy father still, 
 Whaireir he gae, whaireir he ryde, 
 My luve with him maun still abyde ; 
 In weil or wae, whaireir he gae, 
 Mine heart can neir depart him frae. 
 
 Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament. 
 
 IT may be remembered that in the earlier part of this 
 continuation of the history of Maltravers it was stated that 
 Aubrey had in early life met with the common lot of a disap-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 379 
 
 pointed affection. Eleanor Westbrook, a young woman of his 
 own humble rank, had won, and seemed to return, his love ; 
 but of that love she was not worthy. Vain, volatile, and 
 ambitious, she forsook the poor student for a more brilliant 
 marriage. She accepted the hand of a merchant, who was 
 caught by her beauty, and who had the reputation of great 
 wealth. They settled in London, and Aubrey lost all traces 
 of her. She gave birth to an only daughter : and when that 
 child had attained her fourteenth year, her husband suddenly, 
 and seemingly without cause, put an end to his existence. 
 The cause, however, was apparent before he was laid in his 
 grave. He was involved far beyond his fortune, he had 
 died to escape beggary and a jail. A small annuity, not 
 exceeding one hundred pounds, had been secured on the 
 widow. On this income she retired with her child into the 
 country ; and chance, the vicinity of some distant connections, 
 and the cheapness of the place, concurred to fix her residence 
 
 in the outskirts of the town of C . Characters that in 
 
 youth have been most volatile and most worldly, often when 
 bowed down and dejected by the adversity which they are not 
 fitted to encounter, become the most morbidly devout; they 
 ever require an excitement, and when earth denies, they seek 
 it impatiently from heaven. 
 
 This was the case with Mrs. Westbrook; and this new turn 
 of mind brought her naturally into contact with the principal 
 saint of the neighbourhood, Mr. Eichard Templeton. We 
 have seen that that gentleman was not happy in his first 
 marriage ; death had not then annulled the bond. He was of 
 an ardent and sensual temperament, and quietly, under the 
 broad cloak of his doctrines, he indulged his constitutional 
 tendencies. Perhaps in this respect he was not worse than 
 nine men out of ten. But then he professed to be better than 
 nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine men out 
 of a million! To a fault of temperament was added the craft 
 of hypocrisy, and the vulgar error became a dangerous vice. 
 Upon Mary Westbrook, the widow's daughter, he gazed with 
 eyes that were far from being the eyes of the spirit. Even at 
 the age of fourteen she charmed him ; but when, after watch-
 
 380 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 iug her ripening beauty expand, three years were added to 
 that age, Mr. Templeton was most deeply in love. Mary was 
 indeed lovely, her disposition naturally good and gentle, 
 but her education worse than neglected. To the frivolities 
 and meannesses of a second-rate fashion, inculcated into her 
 till her father's death, had now succeeded the quackeries, the 
 slavish subservience, the intolerant bigotries, of a transcen- 
 dental superstition. In a change so abrupt and violent, the 
 whole character of the poor girl was shaken ; her principles 
 unsettled, vague, and unformed, and naturally of mediocre 
 and even feeble intellect, she clung to the first plank held out 
 to her in "that wide sea of wax" in which "she halted." 
 Early taught to place the most implicit faith in the dictates 
 of Mr. Templeton, fastening her belief round him as the vine 
 winds its tendrils round the oak, yielding to his ascendency, 
 and pleased with his fostering and almost caressing manner, 
 no confessor in Papal Italy ever was more dangerous to vil- 
 lage virtue than Ki chard Templeton (who deemed himself the 
 archetype of the only pure Protestantism) to the morals and 
 heart of Mary Westbrook. 
 
 Mrs. Westbrook, whose constitution had been prematurely 
 broken by long participation in the excesses of London dissi- 
 pation and by the reverse of fortune which still preyed upon a 
 spirit it had rather soured than humbled, died when Mary was 
 eighteen. Templeton became the sole friend, comforter, and 
 supporter of the daughter. 
 
 In an evil hour (let us trust not from premeditated villany), 
 an hour when the heart of one was softened by grief and 
 gratitude, and the conscience of the other laid asleep by pas- 
 sion, the virtue of Mary Westbrook was betrayed. Her sor- 
 row and remorse, his own fears of detection and awakened 
 self-reproach, occasioned Templeton the most anxious and 
 poignant regret. There had been a young woman in Mrs. 
 Westbrook' s service, who had left it a short time before the 
 widow died, in consequence of her marriage. Her husband 
 ill-used her; and glad to escape from him and prove her grati- 
 tude to her employer's daughter, of whom she had been ex- 
 tremely fond, she had returned to Miss Westbrook after the
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 381 
 
 funeral of her mother. The name of this woman was Sarah 
 Miles. Templeton saw that Sarah more than suspected his 
 connection with Mary; it was necessary to make a confidant, 
 he selected her. Miss Westbrook was removed to a distant 
 part of the country, and Templeton visited her cautiously and 
 rarely. Four months afterwards, Mrs. Templeton died, and 
 the husband was free to repair his wrong. Oh, how he then 
 repented of what had passed ! but four months' delay, and all 
 this sin and sorrow might have been saved! He was now 
 racked with perplexity and doubt : his unfortunate victim was 
 advanced in her pregnancy. It was necessary, if he wished 
 his child to be legitimate still more if he wished to preserve 
 the honour of its mother that he should not hesitate long in 
 the reparation to which duty and conscience urged him. But 
 on the other hand, he, the saint, the oracle, the immaculate 
 example for all forms, proprieties, and decorums, to scandal- 
 ize the world by so rapid and premature a hymen 
 
 " Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
 Had left the flushing in his galled eyes, 
 To marry." 
 
 No! he could not brave the sneer of the gossips, the triumph 
 of his foes, the dejection of his disciples, by so rank and rash 
 a folly. But still Mary pined so, he feared for her health 
 for his own unborn offspring. There was a middle path, a 
 compromise between duty and the world; he grasped at it as 
 most men similarly situated would have done, they were 
 married, but privately, and under feigned names : the secret 
 was kept close. Sarah Miles was the only witness acquainted 
 with the real condition and names of the parties. 
 
 Reconciled to herself, the bride recovered health and spirits, 
 Templeton formed the most sanguine hopes. He resolved, as 
 soon as the confinement was over, to go abroad ; Mary should 
 follow; in a foreign land they should be publicly married; 
 they would remain some years on the Continent; when he 
 returned, his child's age could be put back a year. Oh, 
 nothing could be more clear and easy! 
 
 Death shivered into atoms all the plans of Mr. Templeton.
 
 382 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Mary suffered most severely in childbirth, and died a few 
 weeks afterwards. Templeton at first was inconsolable, but 
 worldly thoughts were great comforters. He had done all 
 that conscience could do to atone a sin, and he was freed from 
 a most embarrassing dilemma, and from a temporary banish- 
 ment utterly uncongenial and unpalatable to his habits and 
 ideas. But now he had a child, a legitimate child, suc- 
 cessor to his name, his wealth ; a first-born child, the only 
 one ever sprung from him, the prop and hope of advancing 
 years ! On this child he doted with all that paternal passion 
 which the hardest and coldest men often feel the most for 
 their own flesh and blood for fatherly love is sometimes but 
 a transfer of self-love from one fund to another. 
 
 Yet this child this darling that he longed to show to the 
 whole world it was absolutely necessary, for the present, 
 that he should conceal and disown. It had happened that 
 Sarah's husband died of his own excesses a few weeks before 
 the birth of Templeton's child, she having herself just recov- 
 ered from her confinement ; Sarah was therefore free forever 
 from her husband's vigilance and control. To her care the 
 destined heiress was committed, and her own child put out to 
 nurse. And this was the woman and this the child who had 
 excited so much benevolent curiosity in the breasts of the 
 
 worthy clergyman and the three old maids of C .* 
 
 Alarmed at Sarah's account of the scrutiny of the parson, 
 and a,t his own rencontre with that hawk-eyed pastor, Tem- 
 pleton lost no time in changing the abode of the nurse; and 
 to her new residence had the banker bent his way, with rod 
 and angle, on that evening which witnessed his adventure 
 with Luke Darvil. 2 When Mr. Templeton first met Alice, 
 his own child was only about thirteen or fourteen months old, 
 but little older than Alice's. If the beauty of Mrs. Leslie's 
 protegee first excited his coarser nature, her maternal tender- 
 ness, her anxious care for her little one, struck a congenial 
 chord in the father's heart. It connected him with her by a 
 mute and unceasing sympathy. Templeton had felt so deeply 
 
 1 See "Ernest Maltravers," book iv., p. 164. 
 
 2 "Ernest Maltravers," book iv., p. 181.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 383 
 
 the alarm and pain of illicit love, he had been (as he profanely 
 believed) saved from the brink of public shame by so signal 
 an interference of grace, that he resolved no more to hazard 
 his good name and his peace of mind upon such perilous rocks. 
 The dearest desire at his heart was to have his daughter under 
 his roof, to fondle, to play with her, to watch her growth, 
 to win her affection. This, at present, seemed impossible. 
 But if he were to marry, marry a widow, to whom he might 
 confide all, or a portion, of the truth; if that child could be 
 passed off as hers ah, that was the best plan ! And Temple- 
 ton wanted a wife ! Years were creeping on him, and the day 
 would come when a wife would be useful as a nurse. But 
 Alice was supposed to be a widow ; and Alice was so meek, so 
 docile, so motherly. If she could be induced to remove from 
 
 C , either part with her own child or call it her niece, 
 
 and adopt his. Such, from time to time, were Templeton's 
 thoughts, as he visited Alice, and found, with every visit, 
 fresh evidence of her tender and beautiful disposition; such 
 the objects which, in the First Part of this work, we intimated 
 were different from those of mere admiration for her beauty. 1 
 But again, worldly doubts and fears the dislike of so unsuit- 
 able an alliance, the worse than lowness of Alice's origin, the 
 dread of discovery for her early error held him back, waver- 
 ing and irresolute. To say truth, too, her innocence and 
 purity of thought kept him at a certain distance. He was 
 acute enough to see that he even he, the great Richard 
 Templeton might be refused by the faithful Alice. 
 
 At last Darvil was dead; he breathed more freely, he 
 revolved more seriously his projects ; and at this time, Sarah, ' 
 wooed by her first lover, wished to marry again; his secret 
 would pass from her breast to her second husband's, and 
 thence how far would it travel? Added to this, Sarah's con- 
 
 1 "Our banker always seemed more struck by Alice's moral feelings than 
 even by her physical beauty. Her love for her child, for instance, impressed 
 him powerfully," etc. " His feelings altogether for Alice, the designs he en- 
 tertained towards her, were of a very complicated nature, and it will be long, 
 perhaps, before the reader can thoroughly comprehend them." See "Ernest 
 Maltravers," book iv., p. 178.
 
 384 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 science grew uneasy; the brand ought to be effaced from the 
 memory of the dead mother, the legitimacy of the child pro- 
 claimed; she became importunate, she wearied and she 
 alarmed the pious man. He therefore resolved to rid him- 
 self of the only witness to his marriage whose testimony he 
 had cause to fear, of the presence of the only one acquainted 
 with his sin and the real name of the husband of Mary West- 
 brook. He consented to Sarah's marriage with William Elton, 
 and offered a liberal dowry on the condition that she should 
 yield to the wish of Elton himself, an adventurous young 
 man, who desired to try his fortunes in the New World. His 
 daughter he must remove elsewhere. 
 
 While this was going on, Alice's child, long delicate and 
 drooping, became seriously ill. Symptoms of decline ap- 
 peared; the physician recommended a milder air, and Devon- 
 shire was suggested. Nothing could equal the generous, the 
 fatherly kindness which Templeton evinced on this most pain- 
 ful occasion. He insisted on providing Alice with the means 
 to undertake the journey with ease and comfort; and poor 
 Alice, with a heart heavy with gratitude and sorrow, con- 
 sented for her child's sake to all he offered. 
 
 Now the banker began to perceive that all his hopes and 
 wishes were in good train. He foresaw that the child of 
 Alice was doomed ! that was one obstacle out of the way. 
 Alice herself was to be removed from the sphere of her hum- 
 ble calling. In a distant county she might appear of better 
 station, and under another name. Conformably to these 
 views, he suggested to her that, in proportion to the seem- 
 ing wealth and respectability of patients, did doctors attend 
 to their complaints. He proposed that Alice should depart 
 privately to a town many miles off; that there he would pro- 
 vide for her a carriage, and engage a servant ; that he would 
 do this for her as for a relation, and that she should take that 
 relation's name. To this, Alice rapt in her child, and sub- 
 missive to all that might be for the child's benefit, passively 
 consented. It was arranged then as proposed, and under the 
 name of Cameron, which, as at once a common yet a well- 
 sounding name, occurred to his invention, Alice departed
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 385 
 
 with her sick charge and a female attendant (who knew 
 nothing of her previous calling or story), on the road to 
 Devonshire. Templeton himself resolved to follow her thither 
 in a few days; and it was fixed that they should meet at 
 Exeter. 
 
 It was on this melancholy journey that occurred that 
 memorable day when Alice once more beheld Maltravers; 
 and, as she believed, uttering the vows of love to another. 1 
 The indisposition of her child had delayed her some hours at 
 the inn: the poor sufferer had fallen asleep; and Alice had 
 stolen from its couch for a little while, when her eyes rested 
 on the father. Oh, how then she longed, she burned to tell 
 him of the new sanctity, that, by a human life, had been 
 added to their early love! And when, crushed and sick at 
 heart, she turned away, and believed herself forgotten and 
 replaced, it was the pride of the mother rather than of the 
 mistress that supported her. She, meek creature, felt not 
 the injury to herself; but his child, the sufferer, perhaps 
 the dying one, there, there was the wrong ! No ! she would 
 not hazard the chance of a cold great Heaven ! perchance an 
 incredulous look upon the hushed, pale face above. But 
 little time was left for thought, for explanation, for discov- 
 ery. She saw him unconscious of the ties so near, and thus 
 lost depart as a stranger from the spot ; and henceforth was 
 gone the sweet hope of living for the future. Nothing was 
 left her but the pledge of that which had been. Mournful, 
 despondent, half broken-hearted, she resumed her journey. 
 At Exeter she was joined, as agreed, by Mr. Templeton ; and 
 with him came a fair, a blooming, and healthful girl to con- 
 trast her own drooping charge. Though but a few weeks 
 older, you would have supposed the little stranger by a year 
 the senior of Alice's child: the one was so well grown, so 
 advanced; the other so backward, so nipped in the sickly bud. 
 
 "You can repay me for all, for more than I have done; 
 
 more than I ever can do for you and yours," said Templeton, 
 
 " by taking this young stranger also under your care. It is 
 
 the child of one dear, most dear to me; an orphan; I know 
 
 1 See "Ernest Maltravers," book v., p. 221. 
 
 25
 
 386 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 not with whom else to place it. Let it for the present be 
 supposed your own, the elder child." 
 
 Alice could refuse nothing to her benefactor; but her heart 
 did not open at first to the beautiful girl, whose sparkling 
 eyes and rosy cheeks mocked the languid looks and faded 
 hues of her own darling. But the sufferer seemed to hail a 
 playmate; it smiled, it put forth its poor, thin hands; it 
 uttered its inarticulate cry of pleasure, and Alice burst into 
 tears, and clasped them both to her heart. 
 
 Mr. Templeton took care not to rest under the same roof 
 with her he now seriously intended to make his wife ; but he 
 followed Alice to the seaside, and visited her daily. Her 
 infant rallied; it was tenacious of the upper air; it clung to 
 life so fondly ; poor child, it could not foresee what a bitter 
 thing to some of us life is ! And now it was that Templeton, 
 learning from Alice her adventure with her absent lover, 
 learning that all hope in that quarter was gone, seized the 
 occasion, and pressed his suit. Alice at the hour was over- 
 flowing with gratitude; in her child's reviving looks she 
 read all her obligations to her benefactor. But still, at the 
 word love, at the name of marriage, her heart recoiled; and 
 the lost, the faithless, came back to his fatal throne. In 
 choked and broken accents, she startled the banker with the 
 refusal the faltering, tearful, but resolute refusal of his 
 suit. 
 
 But Templeton brought new engines to work: he wooed her 
 through her child; he painted all the brilliant prospects that 
 would open to the infant by her marriage with him. He 
 would cherish, rear, provide for it as his own. This shook 
 her resolves ; but this did not prevail. He had recourse to a 
 more generous appeal: he told her so much of his history 
 with Mary Westbrook as commenced with his hasty and inde- 
 corous marriage, attributing the haste to love ! made her 
 comprehend his scruples in owning the child of a union the 
 world would be certain to ridicule or condemn; he expatiated 
 on the inestimable blessings she could afford him, by deliver- 
 ing him from all embarrassment, and restoring his daughter, 
 though under a borrowed name, to her father's roof. At this
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 387 
 
 Alice mused; at this she seemed irresolute. She had long 
 seen how inexpressibly dear to Templeton was the child con- 
 fided to her care ; how he grew pale if the slightest ailment 
 reached her ; how he chafed at the very wind if it visited her 
 cheek too roughly; and she now said to him simply, 
 
 "Is your child, in truth, your dearest object in life? Is 
 it with her, and her alone, that your dearest hopes are 
 connected? " 
 
 " It is, it is indeed ! " said the banker, honestly surprised 
 out of his gallantry ; " at least, " he added, recovering his self- 
 possession, "as much so as is compatible with my affection 
 for you." 
 
 " And only if I marry you, and adopt her as my own, do 
 you think that your secret may be safely kept, and all your 
 wishes with respect to her be fulfilled?" 
 
 "Only so." 
 
 " And for that reason, chiefly, nay entirely, you condescend 
 to forget what I have been, and seek my hand? Well, if 
 that were all, I owe you too much ; my poor babe tells me too 
 loudly what I owe you to draw back from anything that can 
 give you so blessed an enjoyment. Ah, one's child! one's 
 own child, under one's own roof, it is such a blessing! But 
 then, if I marry you, it can be only to secure to you that 
 object; to be as a mother to your child; but wife only in 
 name to you! I am not so lost as to despise myself. I know 
 now, though I knew it not at first, that I have been guilty; 
 nothing can excuse that guilt but fidelity to him! Oh, yes! 
 I never, never can be unfaithful to my babe's father! As for 
 all else, dispose of me as you will." And Alice, who from 
 very innocence had uttered all this without a blush, now 
 clasped her hands passionately, and left Templeton speech- 
 less with mortification and surprise. 
 
 When he recovered himself, he affected not to understand 
 her; but Alice was not satisfied, and all further conversation 
 ceased. He began slowly, and at last, and after repeated con- 
 ferences and urgings, to comprehend how strange and stub- 
 born in some points was the humble creature whom his 
 proposals so highly honoured. Though his daughter was
 
 388 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 indeed his first object in life ; though for her he was willing 
 to make a mesalliance, the extent of which it would be incum- 
 bent on him studiously to conceal, yet still, the beauty of 
 Alice awoke an earthlier sentiment that he was not disposed 
 to conquer. He was quite willing to make promises, and talk 
 generously ; but when it came to an oath, a solemn, a bind- 
 ing oath and this Alice rigidly exacted, he was startled, 
 and drew back. Though hypocritical, he was, as we have 
 before said, a most sincere believer. He might creep through 
 a promise with unbruised conscience ; but he was not one who 
 could have dared to violate an oath, and lay the load of per- 
 jury on his soul. Perhaps, after all, the union never would 
 have taken place, but Templeton fell ill; that soft and relax- 
 ing air did not agree with him; a low but dangerous fever 
 seized him, and the worldly man trembled at the aspect of 
 Death. It was in this illness that Alice nursed him with a 
 daughter's vigilance and care; and when at length he recov- 
 ered, impressed with her zeal and kindness, softened by ill- 
 ness, afraid of the approach of solitary age, and feeling 
 more than ever his duties to his motherless child, he threw 
 himself at Alice's feet, and solemnly vowed all that she 
 required. 
 
 It was during this residence in Devonshire, and especially 
 during his illness, that Templeton made and cultivated the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Aubrey. The good clergyman prayed with 
 him by his sick-bed; and when Templeton's danger was at 
 its height, he sought to relieve his conscience by a confes- 
 sion of his wrongs to Mary Westbrook. The name startled 
 Aubrey ; and when he learned that the lovely child who had 
 so often sat on his knee, and smiled in his face, was the 
 granddaughter of his first and only love, he had a new inter- 
 est in her welfare, a new reason to urge Templeton to repara- 
 tion, a new motive to desire to procure for the infant years of 
 Eleanor's grandchild the gentle care of the young mother, 
 whose own bereavement he sorrowfully foretold. Perhaps 
 the advice and exhortations of Aubrey went far towards 
 assisting the conscience of Mr. Templeton, and reconciling 
 him to the sacrifice he made to his affection for his daughter.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 389 
 
 Be that as it may, he married Alice, and Aubrey solemnized 
 and blessed the chill and barren union. 
 
 But now came a new and inexpressible affliction; the child 
 of Alice had rallied but for a time. The dread disease had 
 but dallied with its prey ; it came on with rapid and sudden 
 force ; and within a month from the day that saw Alice the 
 bride of Templeton, the last hope was gone, and the mother 
 was bereft and childless ! 
 
 The blow that stunned Alice was not, after the first natural 
 shock of sympathy, an unwelcome event to the banker. Now 
 his child would be Alice's sole care; now there could be no 
 gossip, no suspicion why, in life and after death, he should 
 prefer one child, supposed not his own, to the other. 
 
 He hastened to remove Alice from the scene of her afflic- 
 tion. He dismissed the solitary attendant who had accom- 
 panied her on her journey; he bore his wife to London, and 
 finally settled, as we have seen, at a villa in its vicinity. And 
 there, more and more, day by day, centred his love upon the 
 supposed daughter of Mrs. Templeton, his darling and his 
 heiress, the beautiful Evelyn Cameron. 
 
 For the first year or two, Templeton evinced some alarming 
 disposition to escape from the oath he had imposed upon him- 
 self; but on the slightest hint there was a sternness in the 
 wife, in all else so respectful, so submissive, that repressed 
 and awed him. She even threatened and at one time was 
 with difficulty prevented carrying the threat into effect to 
 leave his roof forever, if there were the slightest question of 
 the sanctity of his vow. Templeton trembled ; such a separa- 
 tion would excite gossip, curiosity, scandal, a noise in the 
 world, public talk, possible discovery. Besides, Alice was 
 necessary to Evelyn, necessary to his own comfort; some- 
 thing to scold in health, something to rely upon in illness. 
 Gradually then, but sullenly, he reconciled himself to his 
 lot ; and as years and infirmities grew upon him, he was con- 
 tented at least to have secured a faithful friend and an anx- 
 ious nurse. Still a marriage of this sort was not blessed: 
 Templeton's vanity was wounded; his temper, always harsh, 
 was soured ; he avenged his affront by a thousand petty tyr-
 
 390 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 annies ; and, without a murmur, Alice perhaps in those years 
 of rank and opulence suffered more than in all her wander- 
 ings, with love at her heart and her infant in her arms. 
 
 Evelyn was to be the heiress to the wealth of the banker. 
 But the title of the new peer ! if he could unite wealth and 
 title, and set the coronet on that young brow ! This had led 
 him to seek the alliance with Lumley. And on his death- 
 bed, it was not the secret of Alice, but that of Mary West- 
 brook and his daughter, which he had revealed to his dismayed 
 and astonished nephew, in excuse for the apparently unjust 
 alienation of his property, and as the cause of the alliance he 
 had sought. 
 
 While her husband, if husband he might be called, lived, 
 Alice had seemed to bury in her bosom her regret deep, 
 mighty, passionate, as it was for her lost child, the child 
 of the unforgotten lover, to whom, through such trials, and 
 amid such new ties, she had been faithful from first to last. 
 But when once more free, her heart flew back to the far and 
 lowly grave. Hence her yearly visits to Brook-Green; hence 
 her purchase of the cottage, hallowed by memories of the 
 dead. There, on that lawn, had she borne forth the fragile 
 form, to breathe the soft noontide air ; there, in that chamber, 
 had she watched and hoped, and prayed and despaired ; there, 
 in that quiet burial-ground, rested the beloved dust! But 
 Alice, even in her holiest feelings, was not selfish : she for- 
 bore to gratify the first wish of her heart till Evelyn's edu- 
 cation was sufficiently advanced to enable her to quit the 
 neighbourhood ; and then, to the delight of Aubrey (who saw 
 in Evelyn a fairer, and nobler, and purer Eleanor), she came 
 to the solitary spot, which, in all the earth, was the least 
 solitary to her ! 
 
 And now the image of the lover of her youth which 
 during her marriage she had sought, at least, to banish 
 returned to her, and at times inspired her with the only hopes 
 that the grave had not yet transferred to heaven ! In relating 
 her tale to Aubrey or in conversing with Mrs. Leslie, whose 
 friendship she still maintained, she found that both concurred 
 in thinking that this obscure and wandering Butler, so skilled
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 391 
 
 in an art in which eminence in man is generally profes- 
 sional, must be of mediocre or perhaps humble station. Ah ! 
 now that she was free and rich, if she were to meet him again, 
 and his love was not all gone, and he would believe in her 
 strange and constant truth; now, his infidelity could be for- 
 given, forgotten in the benefits it might be hers to bestow ! 
 And how, poor Alice, in that remote village, was chance to 
 throw him in your way? She knew not: but something often 
 whispered to her, " Again you shall meet those eyes ; again you 
 shall hear that voice; and you shall tell him, weeping on his 
 breast, how you loved his child ! " And would he not have 
 forgotten her; would he not have formed new ties? could 
 he read the loveliness of unchangeable affection in that pale 
 and pensive face! Alas, when we love intensely, it is diffi- 
 cult to make us fancy that there is no love in return ! 
 
 The reader is acquainted with the adventures of Mrs. 
 Elton, the sole confidant of the secret union of Templeton 
 and Evelyn's mother. By a singular fatality, it was the self- 
 ish and characteristic recklessness of Vargrave that had, in 
 fixing her home at Burleigh, ministered to the revelation of 
 his own villanous deceit. On returning to England she had 
 inquired for Mr. Templeton; she had learned that he had 
 married again, had been raised to the peerage under the title 
 of Lord Vargrave, and was gathered to his fathers. She had 
 no claim on his widow or his family. But the unfortunate 
 child who should have inherited his property, she could only 
 suppose her dead. 
 
 When she first saw Evelyn, she was startled by her like- 
 ness to her unfortunate mother. But the \infamiliar name 
 of Cameron, the intelligence received from Maltravers that 
 Evelyn's mother still lived, dispelled her suspicions; and 
 though at times the resemblance haunted her, she doubted 
 and inquired no more. In fact, her own infirmities grew 
 upon her, and pain usurped her thoughts. 
 
 Now it so happened that the news of the engagement of 
 Maltravers to Miss Cameron became known to the county but 
 a little time before he arrived, for news travels slow from 
 the Continent to our provinces, and, of course, excited all
 
 392 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 the comment of the villagers. Her nurse repeated the tale 
 to Mrs. Elton, who instantly remembered the name, and 
 recalled the resemblance of Miss Cameron to the unfortu- 
 nate Mary Westbrook. 
 
 "And," said the gossiping nurse, "she was engaged, they 
 say, to a great lord, and gave him up for the squire, a great 
 lord in the court, who had been staying at Parson Merton's, 
 Lord Vargrave ! " 
 
 "Lord Vargrave!" exclaimed Mrs. Elton, remembering 
 the title to which Mr. Templeton had been raised. 
 
 " Yes ; they do say as how the late lord left Miss Cameron 
 all his money such a heap of it though she was not his 
 child, over the head of his nevy, the present lord, on the 
 understanding like that they were to be married when she 
 came of age. But she would not take to him after she had 
 seen the squire. And, to be sure, the squire is the finest- 
 looking gentleman in the county." 
 
 "Stop! stop!" said Mrs. Elton, feebly; "the late lord left 
 all his fortune to Miss Cameron, not his child ! I guess the 
 riddle ! I understand it all ! my foster-child ! " she mur- 
 mured, turning away; "how could I have mistaken that 
 likeness?" 
 
 The agitation of the discovery she supposed she had made, 
 her joy at the thought that the child she had loved as her own 
 was alive and possessed of its rights, expedited the progress 
 of Mrs. Elton's disease; and Maltravers arrived just in time 
 to learn her confession (which she naturally wished to make 
 to one who was at once her benefactor, and supposed to be the 
 destined husband of her foster-child), and to be agitated with 
 hope, with joy, at her solemn conviction of the truth of her 
 surmises. If Evelyn were not his daughter even if not to 
 be his bride what a weight from his soul ! He hastened to 
 Brook-Green; and dreading to rush at once to the presence 
 of Alice, he recalled Aubrey to his recollection. In the inter- 
 view he sought, all, or at least much, was cleared up. He 
 saw at once the premeditated and well-planned villany of 
 Vargrave. And Alice, her tale her sufferings her indomi- 
 table love ! how should he meet her ?
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 393 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 YET once more, O ye laurels ! and once more, 
 Ye myrtles ! LYCIDAS. 
 
 WHILE Maltravers was yet agitated and excited by the 
 disclosures of the curate, to whom, as a matter of course, he 
 had divulged his own identity with the mysterious Butler, 
 Aubrey, turning his eyes to the casement, saw the form of 
 Lady Vargrave slowly approaching towards the house. 
 
 "Will you withdraw to the inner room?" said he; "she is 
 coming ; you are not yet prepared to meet her ! nay, would 
 it be well?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; I am prepared. We must be alone. I will 
 await her here." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " Nay, I implore you ! " 
 
 The curate, without another word, retired into the inner 
 apartment, and Maltravers sinking in a chair breathlessly 
 awaited the entrance of Lady Vargrave. He soon heard the 
 light step without; the door, which opened at once on the 
 old-fashioned parlour, was gently unclosed, and Lady Var- 
 grave was in the room ! In the position he had taken, only 
 the outline of Ernest's form was seen by Alice, and the day- 
 light came dim through the cottage casement; and seeing 
 some one seated in the curate's accustomed chair, she could 
 but believe that it was Aubrey himself. 
 
 "Do not let me interrupt you," said that sweet, low voice, 
 whose music had been dumb for so many years to Maltravers, 
 " but I have a letter from France, from a stranger. It alarms 
 me so ; it is about Evelyn ; " and, as if to imply that she med- 
 itated a longer visit than ordinary, Lady Vargrave removed 
 her bonnet, and placed it on the table. Surprised that the 
 curate had not answered, had not come forward to welcome 
 her, she then approached; Maltravers rose, and they stood
 
 394 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 before each other face to face. And how lovely still was 
 Alice ! lovelier he thought even than of old ! And those eyes, 
 so divinely blue, so dovelike and soft, yet with some spiritual 
 and unfathomable mystery in their clear depth, were once 
 more fixed upon him. Alice seemed turned to stone; she 
 moved not, she spoke not, she scarcely breathed; she gazed 
 spellbound, as if her senses as if life itself had deserted 
 her. 
 
 " Alice ! " murmured Maltravers, " Alice, we meet at 
 last!" 
 
 His voice restored memory, consciousness, youth, at once 
 to her! She uttered a loud cry of unspeakable joy, of rap- 
 ture! She sprang forward reserve, fear, time, change, all 
 forgotten; she threw herself into his arms, she clasped him 
 to her heart again and again ! the faithful dog that has 
 found its master expresses not his transport more uncontrolla- 
 bly, more wildly. It was something fearful the excess of 
 her ecstasy! She kissed his hands, his clothes; she laughed, 
 she wept; and at last, as words came, she laid her head on 
 his breast, and said passionately, " I have been true to thee ! 
 I have been true to thee! or this hour would have killed 
 me ! " Then, as if alarmed by his silence, she looked up into 
 his face, and as his burning tears fell upon her cheek, she 
 said again and with more hurried vehemence, " I have been 
 faithful, do you not believe me?" 
 
 " I do, I do, noble, unequalled Alice ! Why, why were you 
 so long lost to me? Why now does your love so shame my 
 own? " 
 
 At these words, Alice appeared to awaken from her first 
 oblivion of all that had chanced since they met; she blushed 
 deeply, and drew herself gently and bashfiilly from his em- 
 brace. "Ah," she said, in altered and humbled accents, "you 
 have loved another ! Perhaps you have no love left for me ! 
 Is it so; is it? No, no; those eyes you love me you love 
 me still!" 
 
 And again she clung to him, as if it were heaven to believe 
 all things, and death to doubt. Then, after a pause, she drew 
 him gentty with both her hands towards the light, and gazed
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 395 
 
 upon him fondly, proudly, as if to trace, line by line, and 
 feature by feature, the countenance which had been to her 
 sweet thoughts as the sunlight to the flowers. "Changed, 
 changed, "she muttered; "but still the same, still beautiful, 
 still divine ! " She stopped. A sudden thought struck her : 
 his garments were worn and soiled by travel, and that princely 
 crest, fallen and dejected, no longer towered in proud defiance 
 above the sons of men. "You are not rich," she exclaimed 
 eagerly, " say you are not rich! I am rich enough for both; 
 it is all yours, all yours ; I did not betray you for it ; there 
 is no shame in it. Oh, we shall be so happy ! Thou art come 
 back to thy poor Alice ! thou knowest how she loved thee ! " 
 
 There was in Alice's manner, her wild joy, something so 
 different from her ordinary self, that none who could have 
 seen her quiet, pensive, subdued would have fancied her 
 the same being. All that Society and its woes had taught 
 were gone; and Nature once more claimed her fairest child. 
 The very years seemed to have fallen from her brow, and she 
 looked scarcely older than when she had stood with him be- 
 neath the moonlight by the violet banks far away. Suddenly, 
 her colour faded ; the smile passed from the dimpled lips ; a 
 sad and solemn aspect succeeded to that expression of passion- 
 ate joy. "Come," she said, in a whisper, "come, follow;" 
 and still clasping his hand, she drew him to the door. 
 Silent and wonderingly he followed her across the lawn, 
 through the moss-grown gate, and into the lonely burial- 
 ground. She moved on with a noiseless and gliding step, 
 so pale, so hushed, so breathless, that even in the noonday 
 you might have half fancied the fair shape was not owned by 
 earth. She paused where the yew-tree cast its gloomy shadow ; 
 and the small and tombless mound, separated from the rest, 
 was before them. She pointed to it, and falling on her knees 
 beside it, murmured, " Hush, it sleeps below, thy child ! " 
 She covered her face with both her hands, and her form shook 
 convulsively. 
 
 Beside that form and before that grave knelt Maltravers. 
 There vanished the last remnant of his stoic pride ; and there 
 Evelyn herself forgotten there did he pray to Heaven for
 
 396 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 pardon to himself, and blessings on the heart he had betrayed. 
 There solemnly did he vow, the remainder of his years, to 
 guard from all future ill the faithful and childless mother. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WILL Fortune never come with both hands full, 
 But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
 
 Henry IV. Part ii. 
 
 I PASS over those explanations, that record of Alice's 
 eventful history, which Maltravers learned from her own 
 lips, to confirm and add to the narrative of the curate, the 
 purport of which is already known to the reader. 
 
 It was many hours before Alice was sufficiently composed 
 to remember the object for which she had sought the curate. 
 But she had laid the letter which she had brought, and which 
 explained all, on the table at the vicarage; and when Mal- 
 travers, having at last induced Alice, who seemed afraid to 
 lose sight of him for an instant, to retire to her room, and 
 seek some short repose, returned towards the vicarage, he met 
 Aubrey in the garden. The old man had taken the friend's 
 acknowledged license to read the letter evidently meant for 
 his eye; and, alarmed and anxious, he now eagerly sought a 
 consultation with Maltravers. The letter, written in English, 
 as familiar to the writer as her own tongue, was from Madame 
 de Ventadour. It had been evidently dictated by the kindest 
 feelings. After apologizing briefly for her interference, she 
 stated that Lord Vargrave's marriage with Miss Cameron was 
 now a matter of public notoriety ; that it would take place in 
 a few days; that it was observed with suspicion that Miss 
 Cameron appeared nowhere; that she seemed almost a pris- 
 oner in her room ; that certain expressions which had dropped 
 from Lady Doltimore had alarmed her greatly. According to
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 397 
 
 these expressions, it would seem that Lady Vargrave was not 
 apprised of the approaching event; that, considering Miss 
 Cameron's recent engagement to Mr. Maltravers suddenly 
 (and, as Valerie thought, unaccountably) broken off on the 
 arrival of Lord Vargrave; considering her extreme youth, her 
 brilliant fortune; and, Madame de Ventadour delicately 
 hinted, considering also Lord Vargrave's character for un- 
 scrupulous determination in the furtherance of any object on 
 which he was bent, considering all this, Madame de Venta- 
 dour had ventured to address Miss Cameron's mother, and to 
 guard her against the possibility of design or deceit. Her 
 best apology for her intrusion must be her deep interest in 
 Miss Cameron, and her long friendship for one to whom Miss 
 Cameron had been so lately betrothed. If Lady Vargrave 
 were aware of the new engagement, and had sanctioned it, of 
 course her intrusion was unseasonable and superfluous ; but if 
 ascribed to its real motive, would not be the less forgiven. 
 
 It was easy for Maltravers to see in this letter, how generous 
 and zealous had been that friendship for himself which could 
 have induced the woman of the world to undertake so officious 
 a task. But of this he thought not, as he hurried over the 
 lines, and shuddered at Evelyn's Tirgent danger. 
 
 "This intelligence," said Aubrey, "must be, indeed, a sur- 
 prise to Lady Vargrave. For we have not heard a word from 
 Evelyn or Lord Vargrave to announce such a marriage ; and 
 she (and myself till this day) believed that the engagement 
 
 between Evelyn and Mr. , I mean," said Aubrey with 
 
 confusion, "I mean yourself, was still in force. Lord Var- 
 grave's villany is apparent; we must act immediately. What 
 is to be done? " 
 
 "I will return to Paris to-morrow; I will defeat his machi- 
 nation, expose his falsehood ! " 
 
 "You may need a proxy for Lady Vargrave, an authority 
 for Evelyn ; one whom Lord Vargrave knows to possess the 
 secret of her birth, her rights: I will go with you. We 
 must speak to Lady Vargrave." 
 
 Maltravers turned sharply round. "And Alice knows not 
 who I am ; that I I am, or was, a few weeks ago, the suitor
 
 398 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 of another; and that other the child she has reared as her 
 own! Unhappy Alice! in the very hour of her joy at my 
 return, is she to writhe beneath this new affliction?" 
 
 "Shall I break it to her?" said Aubrey, pityingly. 
 
 *' No, no ; these lips must inflict the last wrong ! " 
 
 Maltravers walked away, and the curate saw him no more 
 till night. 
 
 In the interval, and late in the evening, Maltravers re- 
 joined Alice. 
 
 The fire burned clear on the hearth, the curtains were 
 drawn, the pleasant but simple drawing-room of the cottage 
 smiled its welcome as Maltravers entered, and Alice sprang 
 up to greet him! It was as if the old days of the music- 
 lesson and the meerschaum had come back. 
 
 "This is yours," said Alice, tenderly, as he looked round 
 the apartment. "Xow now I know what a blessed thing 
 riches are ! Ah, you are looking on that picture ; it is of her 
 who supplied your daughter's place, she is so beautiful, so 
 good, you will love her as a daughter. Oh, that letter that 
 that letter I forgot it till now it is at the vicarage I 
 must go there immediately, and you will come too, you will 
 advise us." 
 
 "Alice, I have read the letter, I know all. Alice, sit 
 down and hear me, it is you who have to learn from me. 
 In our young days I was accustomed to tell you stories in 
 winter nights like these, stories of love like our own, of 
 sorrows which, at that time, we only knew by hearsay. I 
 have one now for your ear, truer and sadder than they were. 
 Two children, for they were then little more children in 
 ignorance of the world, children in freshness of heart, chil- 
 dren almost in years were thrown together by strange vicis- 
 situdes, more than eighteen years ago. They were of different 
 sexes, they loved and they erred. But the error was solely 
 with the boy; for what was innocence in her was but passion 
 in him. He loved her dearly; but at that age her qualities 
 were half developed. He knew her beautiful, simple, tender ; 
 but he knew not all the virtue, the faith, and the nobleness 
 that Heaven had planted in her soul. They parted, they
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 399 
 
 knew not each other's fate. He sought her anxiously, but in 
 vain; and sorrow and remorse long consumed him, and her 
 memory threw a shadow over his existence. But again for 
 his love had not the exalted holiness of hers (she was true !) 
 he sought to renew in others the charm he had lost with 
 her. In vain, long, long in vain. Alice, you know to 
 whom the tale refers. Nay, listen yet. I have heard from 
 the old man yonder that you were witness to a scene many 
 years ago which deceived you into the belief that you beheld a 
 rival. It was not so : that lady yet lives, then, as now, a 
 friend to me; nothing more. I grant that, at one time, my 
 fancy allured me to her, but my heart was still true to thee." 
 
 " Bless you for those words ! " murmured Alice ; and she 
 crept more closely to him. 
 
 He went on. " Circumstances, which at some calmer occa- 
 sion you shall hear, again nearly connected my fate by mar- 
 riage to another. I had then seen you at a distance, unseen 
 by you, seen you apparently surrounded by respectability 
 and opulence ; and I blessed Heaven that your lot, at least, 
 was not that of penury and want." (Here Maltravers related 
 where he had caught that brief glimpse of Alice, 1 how he 
 had sought for her again and again in vain.) "From that 
 hour," he continued, "seeing you in circumstances of which I 
 could not have dared to dream, I felt more reconciled to the 
 past; yet, when on the verge of marriage with another 
 beautiful, gifted, generous as she was a thought, a memory 
 half acknowledged, dimly traced, chained back my senti- 
 ments ; and admiration, esteem, and gratitude were not love ! 
 Death a death melancholy and tragic forbade this union ; . 
 and I went forth in the world, a pilgrim and a wanderer. 
 Years rolled away, and I thought I had conquered the desire 
 for love, a desire that had haunted me since I lost thee. 
 But, suddenly and recently, a being, beautiful as yourself 
 sweet, guileless, and young as you were when we met woke 
 in me a new and a strange sentiment. I will not conceal it 
 from you : Alice, at last I loved another ! Yet, singular as it 
 may seem to you, it was a certain resemblance to yourself, not 
 1 See " Ernest Maltravers," book v., p. 228.
 
 400 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 in feature, but in the tones of the voice, the nameless grace of 
 gesture and manner, the very music of your once happy laugh, 
 those traits of resemblance which I can now account for, 
 and which children catch not from their parents only, but 
 from those they most see, and, loving most, most imitate in 
 their tender years, all these, I say, made perhaps a chief 
 attraction, that drew me towards Alice, are you prepared 
 for it? drew me towards Evelyn Cameron. Know me in my 
 real character, by my true name: I am that Maltravers to 
 whom the hand of Evelyn was a few weeks ago betrothed ! " 
 
 He paused, and ventured to look up at Alice; she was 
 exceedingly pale, and her hands were tightly clasped to- 
 gether, but she neither wept nor spoke. The worst was over; 
 he continued more rapidly, and with less constrained an 
 effort: "By the art, the duplicity, the falsehood of Lord 
 Vargrave, I was taught in a sudden hour to believe that 
 Evelyn was our daughter, that you recoiled from the prospect 
 of beholding once more the author of so many miseries. I 
 need not tell you, Alice, of the horror that succeeded to love. 
 I pass over the tortures I endured. By a train of incidents 
 to be related to you hereafter, I was led to suspect the truth of 
 Vargrave's tale. I came hither; I have learned all from 
 Aubrey. I regret no more the falsehood that so racked me for 
 the time; I regret no more the rupture of my bond with 
 Evelyn; I regret nothing that brings me at last free and 
 unshackled to thy feet, and acquaints me with thy sublime 
 faith and ineffable love. Here then here beneath your own 
 roof here he, at once your earliest friend and foe, kneels to 
 you for pardon and for hope! He woos you as his wife, his 
 companion to the grave! Forget all his errors, and be to him, 
 under a holier name, all that you were to him of old ! " 
 
 " And you are then Evelyn's suitor, you are he whom she 
 loves? I see it all all!" Alice rose, and, before he was 
 even aware of her purpose, or conscious of what she felt, she 
 had vanished from the room. 
 
 Long, and with the bitterest feelings, he awaited her 
 return; she came not. At last he wrote a hurried note, 
 imploring her to join him again, to relieve his suspense; to
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 401 
 
 believe his sincerity; to accept his vows. He sent it to her 
 own room, to which she had hastened to bury her emotions. 
 In a few minutes there came to him this answer, written in 
 pencil, blotted with tears. 
 
 " I thank you, I understand your heart ; but forgive me I cannot 
 see you yet. She is so beautiful and good, she is worthy of you. I shall 
 soon be reconciled. God bless you, bless you both ! " 
 
 The door of the vicarage was opened abruptly, and Mal- 
 travers entered with a hasty but heavy tread. 
 
 " Go to her, go to that angel ; go, I beseech you ! Tell her 
 that she wrongs me, if she thinks I can ever wed another, 
 ever have an object in life, but to atone to, to merit her. Go, 
 plead for me." 
 
 Aubrey, who soon gathered from Maltravers what had 
 passed, departed to the cottage. It was near midnight before 
 he returned. Maltravers met him in the churchyard, beside 
 the yew-tree. "Well, well, what message do you bring?" 
 
 " She wishes that we should both set off for Paris to-morrow. 
 Not a day is to be lost, we must save Evelyn from this 
 snare." 
 
 " Evelyn ! Yes, Evelyn shall be saved ; but the rest the 
 rest why do you turn away?" 
 
 "' You are not the poor artist, the wandering adventurer; 
 you are the high-born, the wealthy, the renowned Maltravers : 
 Alice has nothing to confer on you. You have won the love 
 of Evelyn, Alice cannot doom the child confided to her care 
 to hopeless affection ; you love Evelyn, Alice cannot com- 
 pare herself to the young and educated and beautiful creature, 
 whose love is a priceless treasure. Alice prays you not to 
 grieve for her; she will soon be content and happy in your 
 happiness.' This is the message." 
 
 " And what said you, did you not tell her such words 
 would break my heart? " 
 
 "No matter what I said; I mistrust myself when I advise 
 her. Her feelings are truer than all our wisdom ! " 
 
 Maltravers made no answer, and the curate saw him gliding 
 rapidly away by the starlit graves towards the village. 
 
 26
 
 402 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THINK you I can a resolution fetch 
 
 From flowery tenderness ? Measure for Measure. 
 
 THEY were on the road to Dover. Maltravers leaned back 
 in the corner of the carriage with his hat over his brows, 
 though the morning was yet too dark for the curate to per- 
 ceive more than the outline of his features. Milestone after 
 milestone glided by the wheels, and neither of the travellers 
 broke the silence. It was a cold, raw morning, and the mists 
 rose sullenly from the dank hedges and comfortless fields. 
 
 Stern and self -accusing was the scrutiny of Maltravers into 
 the recesses of his conscience, and the blotted pages of the 
 Past. That pale and solitary mother, mourning over the 
 grave of her of his own child, rose again before his eyes, 
 and seemed silently to ask him for an account of the heart he 
 had made barren, and of the youth to which his love had 
 brought the joylessness of age. With the image of Alice, 
 afar, alone, whether in her wanderings, a beggar and an out- 
 cast, or in that hollow prosperity, in which the very ease of 
 the frame allowed more leisure to the pinings of the heart, 
 with that image, pure, sorrowing, and faithful from first to 
 last, he compared his own wild and wasted youth, his resort 
 to fancy and to passion for excitement. He contrasted with 
 her patient resignation his own arrogant rebellion against the 
 trials, the bitterness of which his proud spirit had exagger- 
 ated; his contempt for the pursuits and aims of others; the 
 imperious indolence of his later life, and his forgetfulness of 
 the duties which Providence had fitted him to discharge. His 
 mind, once so rudely hurled from that complacent pedestal, 
 from which it had so long looked down on men, and said, " I 
 am wiser and better than you," became even too acutely sensi- 
 tive to its own infirmities ; and that desire for Virtue, which
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 403 
 
 he had ever deeply entertained, made itself more distinctly 
 and loudly heard amidst the ruins and the silence of his 
 pride. 
 
 From the contemplation of the Past, he roused himself to 
 face the Future. Alice had refused his hand, Alice herself 
 had ratified and blessed his union with another ! Evelyn, so 
 madly loved, Evelyn might still be his ! No law from 
 the violation of which, even in thought, Human Nature recoils 
 appalled and horror-stricken forbade him to reclaim her 
 hand, to snatch her from the grasp of Vargrave, to woo again, 
 and again to win her! But did Maltravers welcome, did he 
 embrace that thought? Let us do him justice: he did not. 
 He felt that Alice's resolution, in the first hour of mortified 
 affection, was not to be considered final; and even if it were 
 so, he felt yet more deeply that her love the love that had 
 withstood so many trials never could be subdued. Was he 
 to make her nobleness a curse? Was he to say, "Thou hast 
 passed away in thy generation, and I leave thee again to thy 
 solitude for her whom thou hast cherished as a child?" He 
 started in dismay from the thought of this new and last blow 
 upon the shattered spirit ; and then fresh and equally sacred 
 obstacles between Evelyn and himself broke slowly on his 
 view. Could Templeton rise from his grave, with what 
 resentment, with what just repugnance, would he have re- 
 garded in the betrayer of his wife (even though wife but in 
 name) the suitor to his child ! 
 
 These thoughts came in fast and fearful force upon Mal- 
 travers, and served to strengthen his honour and his con- 
 science. He felt that though, in law, there was no shadow 
 of connection between Evelyn and himself, yet his tie with 
 Alice had been of a nature that ought to separate him from 
 one who had regarded Alice as a mother. The load of horror, 
 the agony of shame, were indeed gone ; but still a voice whis- 
 pered as before, " Evelyn is lost to thee forever ! " But so 
 shaken had already been her image in the late storms and 
 convulsion of his soul, that this thought was preferable to 
 the thought of sacrificing Alice. If that were all but Eve- 
 lyn might still love him; and justice to Alice might be mis-
 
 404 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ery to her! He started from his revery with a vehement 
 gesture, and groaned audibly. 
 
 The curate turned to address to him some words of inquiry 
 and surprise; but the words were unheard, and he perceived, 
 by the advancing daylight, that the countenance of Maltravers 
 was that of a man utterly rapt and absorbed by some master- 
 ing and irresistible thought. Wisely, therefore, he left his 
 companion in peace, and returned to his own anxious and 
 engrossing meditations. 
 
 The travellers did not rest till they arrived at Dover. The 
 vessel started early the following morning, and Aubrey, who 
 was much fatigued, retired to rest. Maltravers glanced at the 
 clock upon the mantelpiece; it was the hour of nine. For him 
 there was no hope of sleep ; and the prospect of the slow night 
 was that of dreary suspense and torturing self-commune. 
 
 As he turned restlessly in his seat, the waiter entered to 
 say that there was a gentleman who had caught a glimpse of 
 him below on his arrival, and who was anxious to speak with 
 him. Before Maltravers could answer, the gentleman himself 
 entered, and Maltravers recognized Legard. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the latter, in a tone of great 
 agitation, "but I was most anxious to see you for a few 
 moments. I have just returned to England all places alike 
 hateful to me ! I read in the papers an an announcement 
 which which occasions me the greatest I know not 
 what I would say, but is it true? Read this paragraph;" 
 and Legard placed " The Courier " before Maltravers. 
 
 The passage was as follows : 
 
 " It is whispered that Lord Vargrave, who is now at Paris, is to be 
 married in a few days to the beautiful and wealthy Miss Cameron, to 
 whom he has been long engaged." 
 
 "Is it possible?" exclaimed Legard, following the eyes of 
 Maltravers, as he glanced over the paragraph. "Were not 
 you the lover, the accepted, the happy lover of Miss Came- 
 ron? Speak, tell me, I implore you! that it was for you, 
 who saved my life and redeemed my honour, and not for that 
 cold schemer, that I renounced all my hopes of earthly hap-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 405 
 
 piness, and surrendered the dream of winning the heart and 
 hand of the only woman I ever loved ! " 
 
 A deep shade fell over the features of Maltravers. He 
 gazed earnestly and long upon the working countenance of 
 Legard, and said, after a pause, 
 
 "You, too, loved her, then? I never knew it, never 
 guessed it; or, if once I suspected, it was but for a moment; 
 and " 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Legard, passionately, "Heaven is my 
 witness how fervently and truly I did love I do still love 
 Evelyn Cameron! But when you confessed to me your affec- 
 tion your hopes I felt all that I owed you ; I felt that I 
 never ought to become your rival. I left Paris abruptly. 
 What I have suffered I will not say ; but it was some comfort 
 to think that I had acted as became one who owed you a debt 
 never to be cancelled nor repaid. I travelled from place to 
 place, each equally hateful and wearisome; at last, I scarce 
 know why, I returned to England. I have arrived this day; 
 and now but tell me, is it true?" 
 
 "I believe it true," said Maltravers, in a hollow voice, 
 " that Evelyn is at this moment engaged to Lord Vargrave. 
 I believe it equally true that that engagement, founded upon 
 false impressions, never will be fulfilled. With that hope 
 and that belief, I am on my road to Paris." 
 
 "And she will be yours, still?" said Legard, turning away 
 his face : " well, that I can bear. May you be happy, sir ! " 
 
 "Stay, Legard," said Maltravers, in a voice of great feel- 
 ing : " let us understand each other better ; you have renounced 
 your passion to your sense of honour." Maltravers paused 
 thoughtfully. "It was noble in you, it was more than just 
 to me ; I thank you and respect you. But, Legard, was there 
 aught in the manner, the bearing of Evelyn Cameron, that 
 could lead you to suppose that she would have returned your 
 affection? True, had we started on equal terms, I am not 
 vain enough to be blind to your advantages of youth and per- 
 son ; but I believed that the affections of Evelyn were already 
 mine, before we met at Paris." 
 
 "It might be so," said Legard, gloomily; "nor is it for me
 
 406 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 to say that a heart so pure and generous as Evelyn's could 
 deceive yourself or me. Yet I had fancied, I had hoped, 
 while you stood aloof, that the partiality with which she 
 regarded you was that of admiration more than love; that 
 you had dazzled her imagination rather than won her heart. 
 I had hoped that I should win, that I was winning, my way 
 to her affection ! But let this pass ; I drop the subject forever 
 
 only, Maltravers, only do me justice. You are a proud 
 man, and your pride has often irritated and stung me, in spite 
 of my gratitude. Be more lenient to me than you have been ; 
 think that, though I have my errors and my follies, I am still 
 capable of some conquests over myself. And most sincerely 
 do I now wish that Evelyn's love may be to you that blessing 
 it would have been to me ! " 
 
 This was, indeed, a new triumph over the pride of Mal- 
 travers, a new humiliation. He had looked with a cold 
 contempt on this man, because he affected not to be above the 
 herd; and this man had preceded him in the very sacrifice he 
 himself meditated. 
 
 "Legard," said Maltravers, and a faint blush overspread 
 his face, "you rebuke me justly. I acknowledge my fault, 
 and I ask you to forgive it. From this night, whatever hap- 
 pens, I shall hold it an honour to be admitted to your friend- 
 ship ; from this night, George Legard never shall find in me 
 the offences of arrogance and harshness." 
 
 Legard wrung the hand held out to him warmly, but made 
 no answer; his heart was full, and he would not trust himself 
 to speak. 
 
 " You think, then," resumed Maltravers, in a more thought- 
 ful tone, " you think that Evelyn could have loved you, had 
 my pretensions not crossed your own? And you think, also 
 
 pardon me, dear Legard that you could have acquired the 
 steadiness of character, the firmness of purpose, which one so 
 fair, so young, so inexperienced and susceptible, so surrounded 
 by a thousand temptations, would need in a guardian and 
 protector? " 
 
 " Oh, do not judge of me by what I have been. I feel that 
 Evelyn could have reformed errors worse than mine ; that her
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 407 
 
 love would have elevated dispositions yet more light and com- 
 monplace. You do not know what miracles love works! But 
 now, what is there left for me? What matters it how frivo- 
 lous and poor the occupations which can distract my thoughts, 
 and bring me forgetfulness? Forgive me; I have no right to 
 obtrude all this egotism on you." 
 
 "Do not despond, Legard," said Maltravers, kindly; "there 
 may be better fortunes in store for you than you yet antici- 
 pate. I cannot say more now ; but will you remain at Dover 
 a few days longer? Within a week you shall hear from me. 
 I will not raise hopes that it may not be mine to realize. But 
 if it be as you think it was, why little, indeed, would rest with 
 me. Nay, look not on me so wistfully," added Maltravers, 
 with a mournful smile ; " and let the subject close for the pres- 
 ent. You will stay at Dover? " 
 
 "I will; but " 
 
 "No buts, Legard; it is so settled."
 
 BOOK XL 
 
 'O 'AvOptairos tvepyerbs irt>vKws. MARCUS ANTONINUS, lib. iii. 
 " Man is born to be a doer of good." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 His teeth he still did grind, 
 And grimly gnash, threatening revenge in vain. SPENSER. 
 
 IT is now time to return to Lord Vargrave. His most 
 sanguine hopes were realized; all things seemed to prosper. 
 The hand of Evelyn Cameron was pledged to him, the wed- 
 ding-day was fixed. In less than a week she was to confer 
 upon the ruined peer a splendid dowry, that would smooth 
 all obstacles in the ascent of his ambition. From Mr. Douce 
 he learned that the deeds, which were to transfer to himself 
 the baronial possessions of the head of the house of Mal- 
 travers, were nearly completed; and on his wedding-day he 
 hoped to be able to announce that the happy pair had set out 
 for their princely mansion of Lisle Court. In politics, though 
 nothing could be finally settled till his return, letters from 
 Lord Saxingham assured him that all was auspicious: the 
 court and the heads of the aristocracy daily growing more 
 alienated from the premier, and more prepared for a Cabinet 
 revolution. And Vargrave, perhaps, like most needy men, 
 overrated the advantages he should derive from, and the ser- 
 vile opinions he should conciliate in, his new character of 
 landed proprietor and wealthy peer. He was not insensible 
 to the silent anguish that Evelyn seemed to endure, nor to 
 the bitter gloom that hung on the brow of Lady Doltimore.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 But these were clouds that foretold no storm, light shadows 
 that obscured not the serenity of the favouring sky. He con- 
 tinued to seem unconscious to either; to take the coming 
 event as a matter of course, and to Evelyn he evinced so 
 gentle, unfamiliar, respectful, and delicate an attachment, 
 that he left no opening, either for confidence or complaint. 
 Poor Evelyn! her gayety, her enchanting levity, her sweet 
 and infantine playfulness of manner, were indeed vanished. 
 Pale, wan, passive, and smileless, she was the ghost of her 
 former self! But days rolled on, and the evil one drew near; 
 she recoiled, but she never dreamed of resisting. How many 
 equal victims of her age and sex does the altar witness ! 
 
 One day, at early noon, Lord Vargrave took his way to 
 Evelyn's. He had been to pay a political visit in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Germain, and he was now slowly crossing the more 
 quiet and solitary part of the gardens of the Tuileries, his 
 hands clasped behind him, after his old, unaltered habit, and 
 his eyes downcast, when suddenly a man, who was seated 
 alone beneath one of the trees, and who had for some mo- 
 ments watched his steps with an anxious and wild aspect, 
 rose and approached him. Lord Vargrave was not conscious 
 of the intrusion, till the man laid his hand on Vargrave's arm, 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 " It is he ! it is ! Lumley Ferrers, we meet again ! " 
 
 Lord Vargrave started and changed colour, as he gazed on 
 the intruder. 
 
 "Ferrers," continued Cesarini (for it was he), and he wound 
 his arm firmly into Lord Vargrave's as he spoke, "you have 
 not changed; your step is light, your cheek healthful; and 
 yet I you can scarcely recognize me. Oh, I have suffered 
 so horribly since we parted! Why is this? Why have I 
 been so heavily visited, and why have you gone free? 
 Heaven is not just ! " 
 
 Castruccio was in one of his lucid intervals ; but there was 
 that in his uncertain eye, and strange unnatural voice, which 
 showed that a breath might dissolve the avalanche. Lord 
 Vargrave looked anxiously round; none were near: but he 
 knew that the more public parts of the garden were thronged,
 
 410 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 and through the trees he saw many forms moving in the dis- 
 tance. He felt that the sound of his voice could summon 
 assistance in an instant, and his assurance returned to him. 
 
 " My poor friend, " said he soothingly, as he quickened his 
 pace, "it grieves me to the heart to see you look ill; do not 
 think so much of what is past." 
 
 "There is no past!" replied Cesarini, gloomily. "The 
 Past is my Present! And I have thought and thought, in 
 darkness and in chains, over all that I have endured, and a 
 light has broken on me in the hours when they told me I was 
 mad ! Lumley Ferrers, it was not for my sake that you led 
 me, devil as you are, into the lowest hell! You had some 
 object of your own to serve in separating her from Maltravers. 
 You made me your instrument. What was I to you that you 
 should have sinned for my sake? Answer me, and truly, if 
 those lips can utter truth ! " 
 
 "Cesarini," returned Vargrave, in his blandest accents, 
 "another time we will converse on what has been; believe 
 me, my only object was your happiness, combined, it may be, 
 with my hatred of your rival." 
 
 "Liar!" shouted Cesarini, grasping Vargrave's arm with 
 the strength of growing madness, while his burning eyes were 
 fixed upon his tempter's changing countenance. "You, too, 
 loved Florence ; you, too, sought her hand ; you were my real 
 rival!" 
 
 "Hush! my friend, hush! " said Vargrave, seeking to shake 
 off the gripe of the maniac, and becoming seriously alarmed ; 
 "we are approaching the crowded part of the gardens, we 
 shall be observed." 
 
 "And why are men made my foes? Why is my own sister 
 become my persecutor? Why should she give me up to the 
 torturer and the dungeon? Why are serpents and fiends my 
 comrades? Why is there fire in my brain and heart; and why 
 do you go free and enjoy liberty and life? Observed! what 
 care you for observation? All men search for me! " 
 
 "Then why so openly expose yourself to their notice; 
 why-" 
 
 "Hear me! " interrupted Cesarini. " When I escaped from
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 411 
 
 the horrible prison into which I was plunged; when I scented 
 the fresh air, and bounded over the grass; when I was again 
 free in limbs and spirit, a sudden strain of music from a 
 village came on my ear, and I stopped short, and crouched 
 down, and held my breath to listen. It ceased ; and I thought 
 I had been with Florence, and I wept bitterly! When I 
 recovered, memory came back to me distinct and clear; and 
 I heard a voice say to me, ' Avenge her and thyself ! ' From 
 that hour the voice has been heard again, morning and night! 
 Lumley Ferrers, I hear it now! it speaks to my heart, it 
 warms my blood, it nerves my hand! On whom should ven- 
 geance fall? Speak to me! " 
 
 Lumley strode rapidly on. They were now without the 
 grove; a gay throng was before them. "All is safe," thought 
 the Englishman. He turned abruptly and haughtily on 
 Cesarini, and waved his hand ; " Begone, madman ! " said he, 
 in a loud and stern voice, " begone ! vex me no more, or I 
 give you into custody. Begone, I say ! " 
 
 Cesarini halted, amazed and awed for the moment; and 
 then, with a dark scowl and a low cry, threw himself on 
 Vargrave. The eye and hand of the latter were vigilant 
 and prepared; he grasped the uplifted arm of the maniac, 
 and shouted for help. But the madman was now in his full 
 fury; he hurled Vargrave to the ground with a force for 
 which the peer was not prepared, and Lumley might never 
 have risen a living man from that spot, if two soldiers, seated 
 close by, had not hastened to his assistance. Cesarini was 
 already kneeling on his breast, and his long bony fingers were 
 fastening upon the throat of his intended victim. Torn from 
 his hold, he glared fiercely on his new assailants ; and after a 
 fierce but momentary struggle, wrested himself from their 
 gripe. Then, turning round to Vargrave, who had with some 
 effort risen from the ground, he shrieked out, " I shall have 
 thee yet ! " and fled through the trees and disappeared.
 
 412 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AH, who is nigh ? Come to me, friend or foe ! 
 My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
 Ev'n now forsake me. Henry VI. Part iii. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE, bold as he was by nature, in vain endeav- 
 oured to banish from his mind the gloomy impression which 
 the startling interview with Cesarini had bequeathed. The 
 face, the voice of the maniac, haunted him, as the shape of 
 the warning wraith haunts the mountaineer. He returned at 
 once to his hotel, unable for some hours to collect himself 
 sufficiently to pay his customary visit to Miss Cameron. Inly 
 resolving not to hazard a second meeting with the Italian dur- 
 ing the rest of his sojourn at Paris by venturing in the streets 
 on foot, he ordered his carriage towards evening; dined at the 
 Caf6 de Paris ; and then re-entered his carriage to proceed to 
 Lady Doltimore's house. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my lord," said his servant, as he 
 closed the carriage-door, "but I forgot to say that, a short 
 time after you returned this morning, a strange gentleman 
 asked at the porter's lodge if Mr. Ferrers was not staying at 
 the hotel. The porter said there was no Mr. Ferrers, but the 
 gentleman insisted upon it that he had seen Mr. Ferrers 
 enter. I was in the lodge at the moment, my lord, and I 
 explained " 
 
 "That Mr. Ferrers and Lord Vargrave are one and the 
 same? What sort of looking person? " 
 
 " Thin and dark, my lord, evidently a foreigner. When 
 I said that you were now Lord Vargrave, he stared a moment, 
 and said very abruptly that he recollected it perfectly, and 
 then he laughed and walked away." 
 
 "Did he not ask to see me?"
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 413 
 
 "No, my lord; he said he should take another opportunity. 
 He was a strange-looking gentleman, and his clothes were 
 threadbare." 
 
 "Ah, some troublesome petitioner. Perhaps a Pole in 
 distress! Remember I am never at home when he calls. 
 Shut the door. To Lady Doltimore's." 
 
 Lumley's heart beat as he threw himself back, he again 
 felt the gripe of the madman at his throat. He saw, at once, 
 that Cesarini had dogged him ; he resolved the next morning 
 to change his hotel, and to apply to the police. It was strange 
 how sudden and keen a fear had entered the breast of this 
 callous and resolute man! 
 
 On arriving at Lady Doltimore's, he found Caroline alone 
 in the drawing-room. It was a tete-a-tete that he by no means 
 desired. 
 
 "Lord Vargrave," said Caroline, coldly, "I wished a short 
 conversation with you; and finding you did not come in the 
 morning, I sent you a note an hour ago. Did you receive it? " 
 
 "No; I have been from home since six o'clock, it is now 
 nine." 
 
 "Well, then, Vargrave," said Caroline, /with a compressed 
 and writhing lip, and turning very pale, "I tremble to tell 
 you that I fear Doltimore suspects. He looked at me sternly 
 this morning, and said, ' You seem unhappy, madam ; this 
 marriage of Lord Vargrave's distresses you! ' ' 
 
 " I warned you how it would be, your own selfishness will 
 betray and ruin you." 
 
 " Do not reproach me, man ! " said Lady Doltimore, with 
 great vehemence. " From you at least I have a right to pity, to 
 forbearance, to succour. I will not bear reproach from you." 
 
 "I reproach you for your own sake, for the faults you 
 commit against yourself; and I must say, Caroline, that after 
 I had generously conquered all selfish feeling, and assisted 
 you to so desirable and even brilliant a position, it is neither 
 just nor high-minded in you to evince so ungracious a reluc- 
 tance to my taking the only step which can save me from 
 actual ruin. But what does Doltimore suspect? What 
 ground has he for suspicion, beyond that want of command
 
 414 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 of countenance which it is easy to explain, and which it is 
 yet easier for a woman and a great lady [here Lumley sneered] 
 to acquire?" 
 
 " I know not ; it has been put into his head. Paris is so 
 full of slander. But, Vargrave Lumley I tremble, I 
 shudder with terror, if ever Doltimore should discover " 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! Our conduct at Paris has been most guarded, 
 most discreet. Doltimore is Self-conceit personified, and 
 Self-conceit is horn-eyed. I am about to leave Paris, about 
 to marry, from under your own roof; a little prudence, a little 
 self-control, a smiling face, when you wish us happiness, and 
 so forth, and all is safe. Tush ! think of it no more ! Fate 
 has cut and shuffled the cards for you; the game is yours, 
 unless you revoke. Pardon my metaphor; it is a favourite 
 one, I have worn it threadbare ; but human life is so like a 
 rubber at whist. Where is Evelyn?" 
 
 " In her own room. Have you no pity for her? " 
 
 " She will be very happy when she is Lady Vargrave ; and 
 for the rest, I shall neither be a stern nor a jealous husband. 
 She might not have given the same character to the magnifi- 
 cent Maltravers." 
 
 Here Evelyn entered; and Vargrave hastened to press her 
 hand, to whisper tender salutations and compliments, to draw 
 the easy-chair to the fire, to place the footstool, to lavish 
 the petits soins that are so agreeable, when they are the small 
 moralities of love. 
 
 Evelyn was more than usually pale, more than usually 
 abstracted. There was no lustre in her e} r e, no life in her 
 step; she seemed unconscious of the crisis to which she 
 approached. As the myrrh and hyssop which drugged the 
 malefactors of old into forgetfulness of their doom, so 
 there are griefs which stupefy before their last and crowning 
 consummation ! 
 
 Vargrave conversed lightly on the weather, the news, the 
 last book. Evelyn answered but in monosyllables ; and Caro- 
 line, with a hand-screen before her face, preserved an unbroken 
 silence. Thus gloomy and joyless were two of the party, thus 
 gay and animated the third, when the clock on the mantel-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 415 
 
 piece struck ten; and as the last stroke died, and Evelyn 
 sighed heavily, for it was an hour nearer to the fatal day, 
 the door was suddenly thrown open, and pushing aside the 
 servant, two gentlemen entered the room. 
 
 Caroline, the first to perceive them, started from her seat 
 with a faint exclamation of surprise. Vargrave turned ab- 
 ruptly, and saw before him the stern countenance of 
 Maltravers. 
 
 "My child! my Evelyn!" exclaimed a familiar voice; and 
 Evelyn had already flown into the arms of Aubrey. 
 
 The sight of the curate in company with Maltravers 
 explained all at once to Vargrave. He saw that the mask 
 was torn from his face, the prize snatched from his grasp, his 
 falsehood known, his plot counterworked, his villany baffled! 
 He struggled in vain for self-composure ; all his resources of 
 courage and craft seemed drained and exhausted. Livid, 
 speechless, almost trembling, he cowered beneath the eyes 
 of Maltravers. 
 
 Evelyn, not as yet aware of the presence of her former 
 lover, was the first to break the silence. She lifted her face 
 in alarm from the bosom of the good curate. " My mother 
 she is well she lives what brings you hither?" 
 
 "Your mother is well, my child. I have come hither at 
 her earnest request to save you from a marriage with that 
 unworthy man ! " 
 
 Lord Vargrave smiled a ghastly smile, but made no answer. 
 
 " Lord Vargrave, " said Maltravers, " you will feel at once 
 that you have no further business under this roof. Let us 
 withdraw, I have much to thank you for." 
 
 " I will not stir ! " exclaimed Vargrave, passionately, and 
 stamping on the floor. "Miss Cameron, the guest of Lady 
 Doltimore, whose house and presence you thus rudely profane, 
 is my affianced bride, affianced with her own consent. Eve- 
 lyn, beloved Evelyn! mine you are yet; you alone can cancel 
 the bond. Sir, I know not what you have to say, what mys- 
 tery in your immaculate life to disclose; but unless Lady 
 Doltimore, whom your violence appalls and terrifies, orders me 
 to quit her roof, it is not I, it is yourself, who are the
 
 416 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 intruder! Lady Doltimore, with your permission, I will 
 direct your servants to conduct this gentleman to his 
 carriage ! " 
 
 " Lady Doltimore, pardon me, " said Maltravers, coldly ; " I 
 will not be urged to any failure of respect to you. My lord, 
 if the most abject cowardice be not added to your other vices, 
 you will not make this room the theatre for our altercation. 
 I invite you, in those terms which no gentleman ever yet 
 refused, to withdraw with me." 
 
 The tone and manner of Maltravers exercised a strange 
 control over Vargrave; he endeavoured in vain to keep alive 
 the passion into which he had sought to work himself; his 
 voice faltered, his head sank upon his breast. Between these 
 two personages, none interfered; around them, all present 
 grouped in breathless silence, Caroline, turning her eyes 
 from one to the other in wonder and dismay; Evelyn, be- 
 lieving all a dream, yet alive only to the thought that, by 
 some merciful interposition of Providence, she should escape 
 the consequences of her own rashness, clinging to Aubrey, 
 with her gaze riveted on Maltravers; and Aubrey, whose 
 gentle character was borne down and silenced by the power- 
 ful and tempestuous passions that now met in collision and 
 conflict, withheld by his abhorrence of Vargrave 's treachery 
 from his natural desire to propitiate, and yet appalled by the 
 apprehension of bloodshed, that for the first time crossed him. 
 
 There was a moment of dead silence, in which Vargrave 
 seemed to be nerving and collecting himself for such course 
 as might be best to pursue, when again the door opened, and 
 the name of Mr. Howard was announced. 
 
 Hurried and agitated, the young secretary, scarcely noticing 
 the rest of the party, rushed to Lord Vargrave. 
 
 "My lord! a thousand pardons for interrupting you, 
 business of such importance! I am so fortunate to find 
 you!" 
 
 "What is the matter, sir?" 
 
 " These letters, my lord ; I have so much to say ! " 
 
 Any interruption, even an earthquake, at that moment 
 must have been welcome to Vargrave. He bent his head,
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 417 
 
 with a polite smile, linked his arm into his secretary's, and 
 withdrew to the recess of the farthest window. Not a minute 
 elapsed before he turned away with a look of scornful exulta- 
 tion. " Mr. Howard, " said he, " go and refresh yourself, and 
 come to me at twelve o'clock to-night; I shall be at home 
 then." The secretary bowed, and withdrew. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Vargrave, to Maltravers, "I am willing to 
 leave you in possession of the field. Miss Cameron, it will 
 be, I fear, impossible for me to entertain any longer the bright 
 hopes I had once formed; my cruel fate compels me to seek 
 wealth in any matrimonial engagement. I regret to inform 
 you that you are no longer the great heiress; the whole of 
 your capital was placed in the hands of Mr. Douce for the com- 
 pletion of the purchase of Lisle Court. Mr. Douce is a bank- 
 rupt; he has fled to America. This letter is an express from 
 my lawyer ; the house has closed its payments ! Perhaps we 
 may hope to obtain sixpence in the pound. I am a loser also ; 
 the forfeit money bequeathed to me is gone. I know not 
 whether, as your trustee, I am not accountable for the loss of 
 your fortune (drawn out on my responsibility) ; probably so. 
 But as I have not now a shilling in the world, I doubt whether 
 Mr. Maltravers will advise you to institute proceedings against 
 me. Mr. Maltravers, to-morrow, at nine o'clock, I will listen 
 to what you have to say. I wish you all good-night." He 
 bowed, seized his hat, and vanished. 
 
 "Evelyn," said Aubrey, "can you require to learn more; 
 do you not already feel you are released from union with a 
 man without heart and honour? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I am so happy ! " cried Evelyn, bursting into 
 tears. "This hated wealth, I feel not its loss; I am re- 
 leased from all duty to my benefactor. I am free ! " 
 
 The last tie that had yet united the guilty Caroline to Var- 
 grave was broken, a woman forgives sin in her lover, but 
 never meanness. The degrading, the abject position in which 
 she had seen one whom she had served as a slave (though, as 
 yet, all his worst villanies were unknown to her), filled her 
 with shame, horror, and disgust. She rose abruptly, and 
 quitted the room. They did not miss her. 
 
 27
 
 418 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Maltravers approached Evelyn; he took her hand, and 
 pressed it to his lips and heart. 
 
 "Evelyn," said he, mournfully, "you require an explana- 
 tion, to-morrow I will give and seek it. To-night we are 
 both too unnerved for such communications. I can only now 
 feel joy at your escape, and hope that I may still minister to 
 your future happiness." 
 
 "But," said Aubrey, "can we believe this new and astound- 
 ing statement? Can this loss be so irremediable ; may we not 
 yet take precaution, and save, at least, some wrecks of this 
 noble fortune?" 
 
 "I thank you for recalling me to the world," said Mal- 
 travers, eagerly. "I will see to it this instant; and to- 
 morrow, Evelyn, after my interview with you, I will hasten 
 to London, and act in that capacity still left to me, your 
 guardian, your friend." 
 
 He turned away his face, and hurried to the door. 
 
 Evelyn clung more closely to Aubrey. " But you will not 
 leave me to-night? You can stay? We can find you accom- 
 modation; do not leave me." 
 
 "Leave you, my child! no; we have a thousand things to 
 say to each other. I will not," he added in a whisper, turn- 
 ing to Maltravers, "forestall your communications." 
 
 CHAPTER Til. 
 
 ALACK, 't is he. Why, he was met even now 
 As mad as the vexed sea. Lear. 
 
 IN the Eue de la Paix there resided an English lawyer of 
 eminence, with whom Maltravers had had previous dealings ; 
 to this gentleman he now drove. He acquainted him with 
 the news he had just heard, respecting the bankruptcy of Mr. 
 Douce; and commissioned him to leave Paris, the first mo- 
 ment he could obtain a passport, and to proceed to London.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 419 
 
 At all events, he would arrive there some hours before Mal- 
 travers ; and those hours were something gained. This done, 
 he drove to the nearest hotel, which chanced to be the Hotel 
 
 de M , where, though he knew it not, it so happened that 
 
 Lord Vargrave himself lodged. As his carriage stopped with- 
 out, while the porter unclosed the gates, a man, who had been 
 loitering under the lamps, darted forward, and prying into 
 the carriage-window, regarded Maltravers earnestly. The 
 latter, pre-occupied and absorbed, did not notice him; but 
 when the carriage drove into the courtyard it was followed by 
 the stranger, who was muffled in a worn and tattered cloak, 
 and whose movements were unheeded amidst the bustle of the 
 arrival. The porter's wife led the way to a second-floor, just 
 left vacant, and the waiter began to arrange the fire. Mal- 
 travers threw himself abstractedly upon the sofa, insensible to 
 all around him, when, lifting his eyes, he saw before him the 
 countenance of Cesarini ! The Italian (supposed, perhaps, by 
 the persons of the hotel to be one of the newcomers) was lean- 
 ing over the back of a chair, supporting his face with his hand, 
 and fixing his eyes with an earnest and sorrowful expression 
 upon the features of his ancient rival. YVlien he perceived 
 that he was recognized, he approached Maltravers, and said 
 in Italian, and in a low voice, " You are the man of all others, 
 whom, save one, I most desired to see. I have much to say 
 to you, and my time is short. Spare me a few minutes." 
 
 The tone and manner of Cesarini were so calm and rational 
 that they changed the first impulse of Maltravers, which was 
 that of securing a maniac; while the Italian's emaciated coun- 
 tenance, his squalid garments, the air of penury and want 
 diffused over his whole appearance, irresistibly invited com- 
 passion. With all the more anxious and pressing thoughts 
 that weighed upon him, Maltravers could not refuse the con- 
 ference thus demanded. He dismissed the attendants, and 
 motioned Cesarini to be seated. 
 
 The Italian drew near to the fire, which now blazed brightly 
 and cheerily, and, spreading his thin hands to the flame, 
 seemed to enjoy the physical luxury of the warmth. "Cold, 
 cold," he said piteously, as to himself; "Nature is a very bit-
 
 420 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ter protector. But frost and famine are, at least, more merci- 
 ful than slavery and darkness." 
 
 At this moment Ernest's servant entered to know if his 
 master would not take refreshments, for he had scarcely 
 touched food upon the road. And as he spoke, Cesarini 
 turned keenly and wistfully round. There was no mistaking 
 the appeal. Wine and cold meat were ordered: and when 
 the servant vanished, Cesarini turned to Maltravers with a 
 strange smile, and said, "You see what the love of liberty 
 brings men to! They found me plenty in the jail! But I 
 have read of men who feasted merrily before execution have 
 not you? and my hour is at hand. All this day I have felt 
 chained by an irresistible destiny to this house. But it was 
 not you I sought; no matter, in the crisis of our doom all its 
 agents meet together. It is the last act of a dreary play ! " 
 
 The Italian turned again to the fire, and bent over it, 
 muttering to himself. 
 
 Maltravers remained silent and thoughtful. Now was the 
 moment once more to place the maniac under the kindly vigi- 
 lance of his family, to snatch him from the horrors, perhaps, 
 of starvation itself, to which his escape condemned him: if 
 he could detain Cesarini till De Montaigne could arrive! 
 
 Agreeably to this thought, he quietly drew towards him 
 the portfolio which had been laid on the table, and, Cesarini's 
 back still turned to him, wrote a hasty line to De Montaigne. 
 When his servant re-entered with the wine and viands, Mal- 
 travers followed him out of the room, and bade him see the 
 note sent immediately. On returning, he found Cesarini 
 devouring the food before him with all the voracity of 
 famine. It was a dreadful sight! the intellect ruined, the 
 mind darkened, the wild, fierce animal alone left! 
 
 When Cesarini had appeased his hunger, he drew near to 
 Maltravers, and thus accosted him, 
 
 "I must lead you back to the past. I sinned against you 
 and the dead; but Heaven has avenged you, and me you can 
 pity and forgive. Maltravers, there is another more guilty 
 than I, but proud, prosperous, and great. His crime 
 Heaven has left to the revenge of man! I bound myself
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 421 
 
 by an oath not to reveal his villany. I cancel the oath now, 
 for the knowledge of it should survive his life and mine. 
 And, mad though they deem me, the mad are prophets, and a 
 solemn conviction, a voice not of earth, tells me that he and 
 I are already in the Shadow of Death." 
 
 Here Cesarini, with a calm and precise accuracy of self- 
 possession, a minuteness of circumstance and detail, that, 
 coming from one whose very eyes betrayed his terrible disease, 
 was infinitely thrilling in its effect, related the counsels, the 
 persuasions, the stratagems of Lumley. Slowly and distinctly 
 he forced into the heart of Maltravers that sickening record 
 of cold fraud calculating on vehement passion as its tool ; and 
 thus he concluded his narration, 
 
 " Now wonder no longer why I have lived till this hour ; 
 why I have clung to freedom, through want and hunger, 
 amidst beggars, felons, and outcasts! In that freedom was 
 my last hope, the hope of revenge ! " 
 
 Maltravers returned no answer for some moments. At 
 length he said calmly, " Cesarini, there are injuries so great 
 that they defy revenge. Let us alike, since we are alike 
 injured, trust our cause to Him who reads all hearts, and, 
 better than we can do, measures both crime and its excuses. 
 You think that our enemy has not suffered, that he has gone 
 free. We know not his internal history ; prosperity and power 
 are no signs of happiness, they bring no exemption from care. 
 Be soothed and be ruled, Cesarini. Let the stone once more 
 close over the solemn grave. Turn with me to the future; 
 and let us rather seek to be the judges of ourselves, than the 
 executioners of another." 
 
 Cesarini listened gloomily, and was about to answer, 
 when 
 
 But here we must return to Lord Vargrave.
 
 422 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mr noble lord, 
 Your worthy friends do lack you. Macbeth. 
 
 He is about it ; 
 The doors are open. Ibid 
 
 ON quitting Lady Doltimore's house, Lumley drove to his 
 hotel. His secretary had been the bearer of other communi- 
 cations, with the nature of which he had not yet acquainted 
 himself; but he saw by the superscriptions that they were of 
 great importance. Still, however, even in the solitude and 
 privacy of his own chamber, it was not on the instant that he 
 could divert his thoughts from the ruin of his fortunes : the 
 loss not only of Evelyn's property, but his own claims upon 
 it (for the whole capital had been placed in Douce's hands), 
 the total wreck of his grand scheme, the triumph he had 
 afforded to Maltravers! He ground his teeth in impotent 
 rage, and groaned aloud, as he traversed his room with hasty 
 and uneven strides. At last he paused and muttered : " Well, 
 the spider toils on even when its very power of weaving fresh 
 webs is exhausted ; it lies in wait, it forces itself into the 
 webs of others. Brave insect, thou art my model! While I 
 have breath in my body, the world and all its crosses, For- 
 tune and all her malignity, shall not prevail against me! 
 What man ever yet failed until he himself grew craven, and 
 sold his soul to the arch fiend, Despair! 'T is but a girl and 
 a fortune lost, they were gallantly fought for, that is some 
 comfort. Now to what is yet left to me ! " 
 
 The first letter Lumley opened was from Lord Saxingham. 
 It filled him with dismay. The question at issue had been 
 formally, but abruptly, decided in the Cabinet against Var- 
 grave and his manoeuvres. Some hasty expressions of Lord 
 Saxingham had been instantly caught at by the premier, and
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 423 
 
 a resignation, rather hinted at than declared, had been per- 
 emptorily accepted. Lord Saxingham and Lumley's adher- 
 ents in the Government were to a man dismissed; and at 
 the time Lord Saxingham wrote the premier was with the 
 king. 
 
 " Curse their folly ! the puppets ! the dolts ! " exclaimed 
 Lumley, crushing the letter in his hand. "The moment I 
 leave them, they run their heads against the wall. Curse 
 them! curse myself! curse the man who weaves ropes with 
 sand! Nothing nothing left for me but exile or suicide! 
 Stay, what is this?" His eye fell on the well-known hand- 
 writing of the premier. He tore the envelope, impatient to 
 know the worst. His eyes sparkled as he proceeded. The 
 letter was most courteous, most complimentary, most wooing. 
 The minister was a man consummately versed in the arts that 
 increase, as well as those which purge, a party. Saxingham 
 and his friends were imbeciles, incapables, mostly men who 
 had outlived their day. But Lord Vargrave, in the prime of 
 life versatile, accomplished, vigorous, bitter, unscrupulous 
 Vargrave was of another mould, Vargrave was to be dreaded ; 
 and therefore, if possible, to be retained. His powers of mis- 
 chief were unquestionably increased by the universal talk of 
 London that he was about soon to wed so wealthy a lady. 
 The minister knew his man. In terms of affected regret, he 
 alluded to the loss the Government would sustain in the ser- 
 vices of Lord Saxingham, etc. ; he rejoiced that Lord Vargrave's 
 absence from London had prevented his being prematurely 
 mixed up, by false scruples of honour, in secessions which his 
 judgment must condemn. He treated of the question in dis- 
 pute with the most delicate address, confessed the reason- 
 ableness of Lord Vargrave 's former opposition to it; but 
 contended that it was now, if not wise, inevitable. He said 
 nothing of the justice of the measure he proposed to adopt, 
 but much on the expediency. He concluded by offering to 
 Vargrave, in the most cordial and flattering terms, the very 
 seat in the Cabinet which Lord Saxingham had vacated, with 
 an apology for its inadequacy to his lordship's merits, and a 
 distinct and definite promise of the refusal of the gorgeous
 
 424 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 viceroy alty of India, which would be vacant next year by the 
 return of the present governor-general. 
 
 Unprincipled as Vargrave was, it is not, perhaps, judging 
 him too mildly to say that, had he succeeded in obtaining 
 Evelyn's hand and fortune, he would have shrunk from the 
 baseness he now meditated. To step coldly into the very post 
 of which he, and he alone, had been the cause of depriving 
 his earliest patron and nearest relative; to profit by the 
 betrayal of his own party ; to damn himself eternally in the 
 eyes of his ancient friends ; to pass down the stream of his- 
 tory as a mercenary apostate, from all this Vargrave must 
 have shrunk, had he seen one spot of honest ground on which 
 to maintain his footing. But now the waters of the abyss 
 were closing over his head ; he would have caught at a straw ; 
 how much more consent to be picked up by the vessel of an 
 enemy! All objection, all scruple, vanished at once. And the 
 " barbaric gold " " of Ormus and of Ind " glittered before the 
 greedy eyes of the penniless adventurer! Not a day was now 
 to be lost. How fortunate that a written proposition, from 
 which it was impossible to recede, had been made to him 
 before the failure of his matrimonial projects had become 
 known! Too happy to quit Paris, he would set off on the 
 morrow, and conclude in person the negotiation. Vargrave 
 glanced towards the clock; it was scarcely past eleven. What 
 revolutions are worked in moments ! Within an hour he had 
 lost a wife, a noble fortune, changed the politics of his whole 
 life, stepped into a Cabinet office, and was already calculating 
 how much a governor-general of India could lay by in five 
 years ! But it was only eleven o'clock. He had put off Mr. 
 Howard's visit till twelve ; he wished so much to see him, 
 and learn all the London gossip connected with the recent 
 events. Poor Mr. Douce! Vargrave had already forgotten 
 his existence! he rang his bell hastily. It was some time 
 before his servant answered. 
 
 Promptitude and readiness were virtues that Lord Vargrave 
 peremptorily demanded in a servant; and as he paid the best 
 price for the articles less in wages than in plunder he 
 was generally sure to obtain them.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 425 
 
 "Where the deuce have you been? This is the third time 
 I have rung ! you ought to be in the anteroom ! " 
 
 "I beg your lordship's pardon; but I was helping Mr. 
 Maltravers's valet to find a key which he dropped in the 
 courtyard." 
 
 "Mr. Maltravers! Is he at this hotel?" 
 "Yes, my lord; his rooms are just overhead." 
 "Humph! Has Mr. Howard engaged a lodging here?" 
 "No, my lord. He left word that he was gone to his aunt, 
 Lady Jane." 
 
 " Ah, Lady Jane lives at Paris so she does ; Hue 
 Chaussee d'Antin you know the house? Go immediately 
 go yourself; don't trust to a messenger and beg Mr. 
 Howard to return with you. I want to see him instantly." 
 "Yes, my lord." 
 
 The servant went. Lumley was in a mood in which soli- 
 tude was intolerable. He was greatly excited; and some 
 natural compunctions at the course on which he had decided 
 made him long to escape from thought. So Maltravers was 
 under the same roof ! He had promised to give him an inter- 
 view next day; but next day he wished to be on the road to 
 London. Why not have it over to-night? But could Mal- 
 travers meditate any hostile proceedings? Impossible! What- 
 ever his causes of complaint, they were of too delicate and 
 secret a nature for seconds, bullets, and newspaper para- 
 graphs! Vargrave might feel secure that he should not be 
 delayed by any Bois de Boulogne assignation; but it was 
 necessary to his honour (!) that he should not seem to shun 
 the man he had deceived and wronged. He would go up to 
 him at once, a new excitement would distract his thoughts. 
 Agreeably to this resolution, Lord Vargrave quitted his room, 
 and was about to close the outer door, when he recollected 
 that perhaps his servant might not meet with Howard ; that 
 the secretary might probably arrive before the time fixed, 
 it would be as well to leave his door open. He accordingly 
 stopped, and writing upon a piece of paper, " Dear Howard, 
 send up for me the moment you arrive : I shall be with Mr. 
 Maltravers au second" Vargrave wafered the affiche to the
 
 426 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 door, which he then left ajar, and the lamp in the landing- 
 place fell clear and full on the paper. 
 
 It was the voice of Vargrave, in the little stone-paven ante- 
 chamber without, inquiring of the servant if Mr. Maltravers 
 was at home, which had startled and interrupted Cesarini as 
 he was about to reply to Ernest. Each recognized that sharp 
 clear voice ; each glanced at the other. 
 
 "I will not see him," said Maltravers, hastily moving 
 towards the door; "you are not fit to " 
 
 "Meet him? no! " said Cesarini, with a furtive and sinister 
 glance, which a man versed in his disease would have under- 
 stood, but which Maltravers did not even observe; "I will 
 retire into your bedroom; my eyes are heavy. I could 
 sleep." 
 
 He opened the inner door as he spoke, and had scarcely 
 reclosed it before Vargrave entered. 
 
 "Your servant said you were engaged; but I thought you 
 might see an old friend : " and Vargrave coolly seated himself. 
 
 Maltravers drew the bolt across the door that separated 
 them from Cesarini; and the two men, whose characters and 
 lives were so strongly contrasted, were now alone. 
 
 " You wished an interview, an explanation," said Lumley ; 
 "I shrink from neither. Let me forestall inquiry and com- 
 plaint. I deceived you knowingly and deliberately, it is 
 quite true, all stratagems are fair in love and war. The 
 prize was vast ! I believed my career depended on it : I could 
 not resist the temptation. I knew that before long you would 
 learn that Evelyn was not your daughter; that the first com- 
 munication between yourself and Lady Vargrave would betray 
 me ; but it was worth trying a coup de main. You have foiled 
 me, and conquered: be it so; I congratulate you. You are 
 tolerably rich, and the loss of Evelyn's fortune will not vex 
 you as it would have done me." 
 
 "Lord Vargrave, it is but poor affectation to treat thus 
 lightly the dark falsehood you conceived, the awful curse you 
 inflicted upon me. Your sight is now so painful to me, it so 
 stirs the passions that I would seek to suppress, that the 
 sooner our interview is terminated the better. I have to
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 427 
 
 charge you, also, with a crime, not, perhaps, baser than 
 the one you so calmly own, but the consequences of which 
 were more fatal: you understand me?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 " Do not tempt me ! do not lie ! " said Maltravers, still in a 
 calm voice, though his passions, naturally so strong, shook 
 his whole frame. " To your arts I owe the exile of years that 
 should have been better spent ; to those arts Cesarini owes the 
 wreck of his reason, and Florence Lascelles her early grave! 
 Ah, you are pale now; your tongue cleaves to your mouth! 
 And think you these crimes will go forever unrequited; think 
 you that there is no justice in the thunderbolts of God?" 
 
 "Sir," said Vargrave, starting to his feet, "I know not 
 what you suspect, I care not what you believe! But I am 
 accountable to man, and that account I am willing to render. 
 You threatened me in the presence of my ward ; you spoke of 
 cowardice, and hinted at danger. Whatever my faults, want 
 of courage is not one. Stand by your threats, I am ready 
 to brave them ! " 
 
 "A year, perhaps a short month, ago," replied Maltravers, 
 "and I would have arrogated justice to my own mortal hand; 
 nay, this very night, had the hazard of either of our lives 
 been necessary to save Evelyn from your persecution, I would 
 have incurred all things for her sake! But that is past; from 
 me you have nothing to fear. The proofs of your earlier guilt, 
 with its dreadful results, would alone suffice to warn me from 
 the solemn responsibility of human vengeance. Great Heaven ! 
 what hand could dare to send a criminal so long hardened, so 
 black with crime, unatoning, unrepentant, and unprepared, 
 before the judgment-seat of the ALL JUST? Go, unhappy 
 man! may life long be spared to you! Awake! awake from 
 this world, before your feet pass the irrevocable boundary of 
 the next ! " 
 
 " I came not here to listen to homilies, and the cant of the 
 conventicle," said Vargrave, vainly struggling for a haughti- 
 ness of mien that his conscience-stricken aspect terribly be- 
 lied; "not I; but this wrong world is to be blamed, if deeds 
 that strict morality may not justify, but the effects of which
 
 428 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 I, no prophet, could not foresee, were necessary for success in 
 life. I have been but as all other men have been who strug- 
 gle against fortune to be rich and great : ambition must make 
 use of foul ladders." 
 
 "Oh," said Maltravers, earnestly, touched involuntarily, 
 and in spite of his abhorrence of the criminal, by the relent- 
 ing that this miserable attempt at self -justification seemed to 
 denote, " oh, be warned, while it is yet time ; wrap not 
 yourself in these paltry sophistries; look back to your past 
 career; see to what heights you might have climbed, if 
 with those rare gifts and energies, with that subtle sagacity 
 and indomitable courage your ambition had but chosen the 
 straight, not the crooked, path. Pause ! many years may yet, 
 in the course of nature, afford you time to retrace your steps, 
 to atone to thousands the injuries you have inflicted on the 
 few. I know not why I thus address you: but something 
 diviner than indignation urges me; something tells me that 
 you are already on the brink of the abyss ! " 
 
 Lord Vargrave changed colour, nor did he speak for some 
 moments; then raising his head, with a faint smile, he said, 
 "Maltravers, you are a false soothsayer. At this moment 
 my paths, crooked though they be, have led me far towards 
 the summit of my proudest hopes; the straight path would 
 have left me at the foot of the mountain. You yourself are a 
 beacon against the course you advise. Let us contrast each 
 other. You took the straight path, I the crooked. You, my 
 superior in fortune; you, infinitely above me in genius; you, 
 born to command and never to crouch : how do we stand now, 
 each in the prime of life? You, with a barren and profitless 
 reputation; without rank, without power, almost without the 
 hope of power. I but you know not my new dignity I, 
 in the Cabinet of England's ministry, vast fortunes opening 
 to my gaze, the proudest station not too high for my reason- 
 able ambition! You, wedding yourself to some grand chimera 
 of an object, aimless when it eludes your grasp. I, swing- 
 ing, squirrel-like, from scheme to scheme; no matter if one 
 breaks, another is at hand! Some men would have cut their 
 throats in despair, an hour ago, in losing the object of a seven
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 429 
 
 years' chase, Beauty and Wealth, both! I open a letter, 
 and find success in one quarter to counterbalance failure in 
 another. Bah ! bah ! each to his m etier, Maltravers ! For you, 
 honour, melancholy, and, if it please you, repentance also! 
 For me, the onward, rushing life, never looking back to the 
 Past, never balancing the stepping-stones to the Future. Let 
 us not envy each other ; if you were not Diogenes, you would 
 be Alexander. Adieu! our interview is over. Will you for- 
 get and forgive, and shake hands once more? You draw back, 
 you frown ! well, perhaps you are right. If we meet again " 
 
 "It will be as strangers." 
 
 " No rash vows ! you may return to politics, you may want 
 office. I am of your way of thinking now: and ha! ha! 
 poor Lumley Ferrers could make you a Lord of the Treasury; 
 smooth travelling and cheap turnpikes on crooked paths, be- 
 lieve me. Farewell!" 
 
 On entering the room into which Cesarini had retired, 
 Maltravers found him flown. His servant said that the gen- 
 tleman had gone away shortly after Lord Vargrave's arrival. 
 Ernest reproached himself bitterly for neglecting to secure 
 the door that conducted to the ante-chamber; but still it was 
 probable that Cesarini would return in the morning. 
 
 The messenger who had taken the letter to De Montaigne 
 brought back word that the latter was at his villa, but ex- 
 pected at Paris early the next day. Maltravers hoped to see 
 him before his departure ; meanwhile he threw himself on his 
 bed, and despite all the anxieties that yet oppressed him, the 
 fatigues and excitements he had undergone exhausted even 
 the endurance of that iron frame, and he fell into a profound 
 slumber.
 
 430 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BY eight to-morrow 
 Thou shalt be made immortal. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 LORD VARGRAVE returned to his apartment to find Mr. 
 Howard, who had but just that instant arrived, warming his 
 white and well-ringed hands by the fire. He conversed with 
 him for half an hour on all the topics on which the secretary 
 could give him information, and then dismissed him once more 
 to the roof of Lady Jane. 
 
 As he slowly undressed himself, he saw on his writing-table 
 the note which Lady Doltimore had referred to, and which he 
 had not yet opened. He lazily broke the seal, ran his eye 
 carelessly over its few blotted words of remorse and alarm, 
 and threw it down again with a contemptuous " pshaw ! " 
 Thus unequally are the sorrows of a guilty tie felt by the 
 man of the world and the woman of society ! 
 
 As his servant placed before him his wine and water, 
 Vargrave told him to see early to the preparations for de- 
 parture, and to call him at nine o'clock. 
 
 "Shall I shut that door, my lord?" said the valet, pointing 
 to one that communicated with one of those large closets, or 
 armoires, that are common appendages to French bedrooms, 
 and in which wood and sundry other matters are kept. 
 
 "No," said Lord Vargrave, petulantly; "you servants are 
 so fond of excluding every breath of air. I should never have 
 a window open, if I did not open it myself. Leave the door 
 as it is, and do not be later than nine to-morrow." 
 
 The servant, who slept in a kind of kennel that communi- 
 cated with the anteroom, did as he was bid; and Vargrave 
 put out his candle, betook himself to bed, and, after drowsily 
 gazing some minutes on the dying embers of the fire, which
 
 ALICE ; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 431 
 
 threw a dim ghastly light over the chamber, fell fast asleep. 
 The clock struck the first hour of morning, and in that house 
 all seemed still. 
 
 The next morning, Maltravers was disturbed from his 
 slumber by De Montaigne, who, arriving, as was often his 
 wont, at an early hour from his villa, had found Ernest's 
 note of the previous evening. 
 
 Maltravers rose and dressed himself; and while De Mon- 
 taigne was yet listening to the account which his friend gave 
 of his adventure with Cesarini, and the unhappy man's accu- 
 sation of his accomplice, Ernest's servant entered the room 
 very abruptly. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "I thought you might like to know. What 
 is to be done? The whole hotel is in confusion, Mr. Howard 
 has been sent for, and Lord Doltimore. So very strange, so 
 sudden! " 
 
 "What is the matter? Speak plain." 
 
 " Lord Vargrave, sir, poor Lord Vargrave " 
 
 " Lord Vargrave ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir; the master of the hotel, hearing you knew his 
 lordship, would be so glad if you would come down. Lord 
 Vargrave, sir, is dead, found dead in his bed! " 
 
 Maltravers was rooted to the spot with amaze and horror. 
 Dead ! and but last night so full of life and schemes and hope 
 and ambition. 
 
 As soon as he recovered himself, he hurried to the spot, 
 and De Montaigne followed. The latter, as they descended 
 the stairs, laid his hand on Ernest's arm and detained him. 
 
 "Did you say that Castruccio left the apartment while 
 Vargrave was with you, and almost immediately after his 
 narrative of Vargrave's instigation to his crime?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The eyes of the friends met; a terrible suspicion possessed 
 both. "No; it is impossible! " exclaimed Maltravers. "How 
 could he obtain entrance, how pass Lord Vargrave's servants? 
 No, no ; think of it not ! " 
 
 They hurried down the stairs ; they reached the other door 
 of Vargrave's apartment. The notice to Howard, with the
 
 432 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 name of Vargrave underscored, was still on the panels. De 
 Montaigne saw and shuddered. 
 
 They were in the room by the bedside. A group were 
 collected round; they gave way as the Englishman and his 
 friend approached; and the eyes of Maltravers suddenly 
 rested on the face of Lord Vargrave, which was locked, 
 rigid, ar-d convulsed. 
 
 There was a buzz of voices which had ceased at the entrance 
 of Maltravers ; it was now renewed. A surgeon had been sum- 
 moned the nearest surgeon, a young Englishman of no 
 great repute or name. He was making inquiries as he bent 
 over the corpse. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Lord Vargrave's servant, "his lordship 
 told me to call him at nine o'clock. I came in at that hour, 
 but his lordship did not move nor answer me. I then looked 
 to see if he were very sound asleep, and I saw that the pillows 
 had got somehow over his face, and his head seemed to lie 
 very low ; so I moved the pillows, and I saw that his lordship 
 was dead." 
 
 "Sir," said the surgeon, turning to Maltravers, "you were 
 a friend of his lordship, I hear. I have already sent for Mr. 
 Howard and Lord Doltimore. Shall I speak with you a 
 minute?" 
 
 Maltravers nodded assent. The surgeon cleared the room 
 of all but himself, De Montaigne, and Maltravers. 
 
 "Has that servant lived long with Lord Vargrave?" asked 
 the surgeon. 
 
 "I believe so, yes; I recollect his face. Why?" 
 
 "And you think him safe and honest?" 
 
 "I don't know; I know nothing of him." 
 
 "Look here, sir," and the surgeon pointed to a slight 
 discoloration on one side the throat of the dead man. " This 
 may be accidental purely natural; his lordship may have 
 died in a fit; there are no certain marks of outward violence, 
 but murder by suffocation might still " 
 
 "But who besides the servant could gain admission? Was 
 the outer door closed? " 
 
 "The servant can take oath that he shut the door before
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 433 
 
 going to bed, and that no one was with his lordship, or in the 
 rooms, when Lord Vargrave retired to rest. Entrance from 
 the windows is impossible. Mind, sir, I do not think I have 
 any right to suspect any one. His lordship had been in very 
 ill health a short time before ; had had, I hear, a rush of blood 
 to the head. Certainly, if the servant be innocent, we can sus- 
 pect no one else. You had better send for more experienced 
 practitioners." 
 
 De Montaigne, who had hitherto said nothing, now looked 
 with a hurried glance around the room: he perceived the 
 closet-door, which was ajar, and rushed to it, as by an invol- 
 untary impulse. The closet was large, but a considerable 
 pile of wood, and some lumber of odd chairs and tables, took 
 up a great part of the space. De Montaigne searched behind 
 and amidst this litter with trembling haste, no trace of 
 secreted murder was visible. He returned to the bedroom 
 with a satisfied and relieved expression of countenance. He 
 then compelled himself to approach the body, from which he 
 had hitherto recoiled. 
 
 "Sir," said he, almost harshly, as he turned to the surgeon, 
 "what idle doubts are these? Cannot men die in their beds, 
 of sudden death, no blood to stain their pillows, no loop-hole 
 for crime to pass through, but we must have science itself 
 startling us with silly terrors? As for the servant, I will 
 answer for his innocence; his manner, his voice attest it." 
 The surgeon drew back, abashed and humbled, and began to 
 apologize, to qualify, when Lord Doltimore abruptly entered. 
 
 "Good heavens! " said he, "what is this? What do I hear? 
 Is it possible? Dead! So suddenly!" He cast a hurried 
 glance at the body, shivered, and sickened, and threw himself 
 into a chair, as if to recover the shock. When again he re- 
 moved his hand from his face, he saw lying before him on the 
 table an open note. The character was familiar; his own 
 name struck his eye, it was the note which Caroline had 
 sent the day before. / As no one heeded him, Lord Doltimore 
 read on, and possessed himself of the proof of his wife's guilt 
 unseen. 
 
 The surgeon, now* turning from De Montaigne, who had 
 
 28
 
 434 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 been rating him soundly for the last few moments, addressed 
 himself to Lord Doltimore. "Your lordship," said he, "was, 
 I hear, Lord Vargrave's most intimate friend at Paris." 
 
 " I his intimate friend ! " said Doltimore, colouring highly, 
 and in a disdainful accent. "Sir, you are misinformed." 
 
 "Have you no orders to give, then, my lord?" 
 
 "None, sir. My presence here is quite useless. Good-day 
 to you, gentlemen." 
 
 "With whom, then, do the last duties rest?" said the sur- 
 geon, turning to Maltravers and De Montaigne. ""With the 
 late lord's secretary? I expect him every moment; and here 
 he is, I suppose," as Mr. Howard, pale, and evidently over- 
 come by his agitation, entered the apartment. Perhaps, of all 
 the human beings whom the ambitious spirit of that senseless 
 clay had drawn around it by the webs of interest, affection, or 
 intrigue, that young man, whom it had never been a tempta- 
 tion to Vargrave to deceive or injure, and who missed only 
 the gracious and familiar patron, mourned most his memory, 
 and defended most his character. The grief of the poor sec- 
 retary was now indeed overmastering. He sobbed and wept 
 like a child. 
 
 When Maltravers retired from the chamber of death, De 
 Montaigne accompanied him; but soon quitting him again, 
 as Ernest bent his way to Evelyn, he quietly rejoined Mr. 
 Howard, who readily grasped at his offers of aid in the last 
 melancholy duties and directions. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IF we do meet again, why, we shall smile. Julius Ccesar. 
 
 THE interview with Evelyn was long and painful. It was 
 reserved for Maltravers to break to her the ne\vs of the sud- 
 den death of Lord Vargrave, which shocked her onspeakably ; 
 and this, which made their first topic, removed much con-
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 435 
 
 straint and deadened much excitement in those which 
 followed. 
 
 Vargrave's death served also to relieve Maltravers from a 
 most anxious embarrassment. He need no longer fear that 
 Alice would be degraded in the eyes of Evelyn. Henceforth 
 the secret that identified the erring Alice Darvil with the 
 spotless Lady Vargrave was safe, known only to Mrs. Leslie 
 and to Aubrey. In the course of nature, all chance of its 
 disclosure must soon die with them ; and should Alice at last 
 become his wife, and should Cleveland suspect (which was not 
 probable) that Maltravers had returned to his first love, he 
 knew that he might depend on the inviolable secrecy of his 
 earliest friend. 
 
 The tale that Vargrave had told to Evelyn of his early 
 but, according to that tale, guiltless passion for Alice, he 
 tacitly confirmed ; and he allowed that the recollection of her 
 virtues, and the intelligence of her sorrows and unextinguish- 
 able affection, had made him recoil from a marriage with her 
 supposed daughter. He then proceeded to amaze his young 
 listener with the account of the mode in which he had dis- 
 covered her real parentage, of which the banker had left it to 
 Alice's discretion to inform her, after she had attained the 
 age of eighteen. And then, simply, but with manly and ill- 
 controlled emotion, he touched upon the joy of Alice at 
 beholding him again, upon the endurance and fervour of her 
 love, upon her revulsion of feeling at learning that, in her 
 unforgotten lover, she beheld the recent suitor of her adopted 
 child. 
 
 "And now," said Malti-avers, in conclusion, "the path to 
 both of us remains the Lame. To Alice is our first duty. 
 The discovery I have ma/le of* your real parentage does not 
 diminish the claims whi<m Alice has on me, does not lessen 
 the grateful affection that is due to her from yourself. Yes, 
 Evelyn, we are not the less separated forever. But when I 
 learned the wilful falsehood which the unhappy man, now 
 hurried to his last account, to whom your birth was known, 
 had imposed upon me, namely, that you were the child of 
 Alice, and when I learned also that you had been hurried
 
 436 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 into accepting his hand, I trembled at your union with one so 
 false and base. I came hither resolved to frustrate his 
 schemes and to save you from an alliance, the -motives of 
 which I foresaw, and to which my own letter, my own deser- 
 tion, had perhaps urged you. New villanies on the part of 
 this most perverted man came to my ear: but he is dead; 
 let us spare his memory. For you oh, still let me deem 
 myself your friend, your more than brother ; let me hope 
 now that I have planted no thorn in that breast, and that your 
 affection does not shrink from the cold word of friendship." 
 
 "Of all the wonders that you have told me," answered 
 Evelyn, as soon as she could recover the power of words, " my 
 most poignant sorrow is, that I have no rightful claim to give 
 a daughter's love to her whom I shall ever idolize as my 
 mother. Oh, now I see why I thought her affection measured 
 and lukewarm. And have I I destroyed her joy at seeing 
 you again? But you you will hasten to console, to reas- 
 sure her! She loves you still, she will be happy at last; 
 and that that thought oh, that thought compensates 
 for all!" 
 
 There was so much warmth and simplicity in Evelyn's 
 artless manner, it was so evident that her love for him had 
 not been of that ardent nature which would at first have 
 superseded every other thought in the anguish of losing him 
 forever, that the scale fell from the eyes of Maltravers, and he 
 saw at once that his own love had blinded him to the true 
 character of hers. He was human; and a sharp pang shot 
 across his breast. He remained silent for some moments; 
 and then resumed, compelling himself as he spoke to fix his 
 eyes steadfastly on hers. 
 
 "And now, Evelyn still may I so call you? I have a 
 duty to discharge to another. You are loved" and he 
 smiled, but the smile was sad "by a younger and more 
 suitable lover than I am. From noble and generous motives 
 he suppressed that love, he left you to a rival ; the rival 
 removed, dare he venture to explain to you his own conduct, 
 and plead his own motives? George Legard " Maltravers 
 paused. The cheek on which he gazed was tinged with a soft
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 437 
 
 blush, Evelyn's eyes were downcast, there was a slight heav- 
 ing beneath the robe. 
 
 Maltravers suppressed a sigh and continued. He narrated 
 his interview with Legard at Dover ; and, passing lightly over 
 what had chanced at Venice, dwelt with generous eloquence on 
 the magnanimity with which his rival's gratitude had been 
 displayed. Evelyn's eyes sparkled, and the smile just visited 
 the rosy lips and vanished again. The worst because it was 
 the least selfish fear of Maltravers was gone, and no vain 
 doubt of Evelyn's too keen regret remained to chill his con- 
 science in obeying its earliest and strongest duties. 
 
 " Farewell ! " he said, as he rose to depart ; " I will at once 
 return to London, and assist in the effort to save your fortune 
 from this general wreck: LIFE calls us back to its cares and 
 business farewell, Evelyn! Aubrey will, I trust, remain 
 with you still." 
 
 " Remain ! Can I not return then to my to her yes, let 
 me call her mother still?" 
 
 "Evelyn," said Maltravers, in a very low voice, "spare 
 me, spare her that pain ! Are we yet fit to " He paused ; 
 Evelyn comprehended him, and hiding her face with her 
 hands, burst into tears. 
 
 When Maltravers left the room, he was met by Aubrey, 
 who, drawing him aside, told him that Lord Doltimore had 
 just informed him that it was not his intention to remain at 
 Paris, and had more than delicately hinted at a wish for the 
 departure of Miss Cameron. In this emergency, Maltravers 
 bethought himself of Madame de Ventadour. 
 
 No house in Paris was a more eligible refuge, no friend 
 more zealous; no protector would be more kind, no adviser 
 more sincere. To her then he hastened. He briefly informed 
 her of Vargrave's sudden death; and suggested that for Eve- 
 lyn to return at once to a sequestered village in England 
 might be a severe trial to spirits already broken ; and declared 
 truly, that though his marriage with Evelyn was broken off, 
 her welfare was no less dear to him than heretofore. At his 
 first hint, Valerie, who took a cordial interest in Evelyn for 
 her own sake, ordered her carriage, and drove at once to Lady
 
 438 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Doltimore's. His lordship was out, her ladyship was ill, in 
 her own room, could see no one, not even her guest. Evelyn 
 in vain sent up to request an interview ; and at last, content- 
 ing herself with an affectionate note of farewell, accompanied 
 Aubrey to the home of her new hostess. 
 
 Gratified at least to know her with one who would be sure 
 to win her affection and soothe her spirits, Maltravers set out 
 on his solitary return to England. 
 
 Whatever suspicious circumstances might or might not have 
 attended the death of Lord Vargrave, certain it is that no evi- 
 dence confirmed and no popular rumour circulated them. His 
 late illness, added to the supposed shock of the loss of the 
 fortune he had anticipated with Miss Cameron, aided by the 
 simultaneous intelligence of the defeat of the party with 
 whom it was believed he had indissolubly entwined his ambi- 
 tion, sufficed to account satisfactorily enough for the melan- 
 choly event. De Montaigne, who had been long, though not 
 intimately, acquainted with the deceased, took upon himself 
 all the necessary arrangements, and superintended the funeral ; 
 after which ceremony, Howard returned to London; and in 
 Paris, as in the grave, all things are forgotten ! But still in 
 De Montaigne's breast there dwelt a horrible fear. As soon 
 as he had learned from Maltravers the charge the maniac 
 brought against Vargrave, there came upon him the recollec- 
 tion of that day when Cesarini had attempted De Montaigne's 
 life, evidently mistaking him in his delirium for another, 
 and the sullen, cunning, and ferocious character which the 
 insanity had ever afterwards assumed. He had learned from 
 Howard that the outer door had been left ajar when Lord 
 Vargrave was with Maltravers. The writing on the panel, the 
 name of Vargrave, would have struck Castruccio's eye as he 
 descended the stairs ; the servant was from home, the apart- 
 ments deserted; he might have won his way into the bed- 
 chamber, concealed himself in the armoire, and in the dead 
 of the night, and in the deep and helpless sleep of his victim, 
 have done the deed. What need of weapons the suffocating 
 pillows would stop speech and life. What so easy as escape, 
 to pass into the anteroom; to unbolt the door; to descend
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 439 
 
 into the courtyard; to give the signal to the porter in his 
 lodge, who, without seeing him, would pull the cordon, and 
 give him egress unobserved? 
 
 All this was so possible, so probable. 
 
 De Montaigne now withdrew all inquiry for the unfortu- 
 nate ; he trembled at the thought of discovering him, of veri- 
 fying his awful suspicions, of beholding a murderer in the 
 brother of his wife ! But he was not doomed long to enter- 
 tain fear for Cesarini ; he was not fated ever to change suspi- 
 cion into certainty. A few days after Lord Vargrave's burial, 
 a corpse was drawn from the Seine. Some tablets in the 
 pockets, scrawled over with wild, incoherent verses, gave a 
 clew to the discovery of the dead man's friends : and, exposed 
 at the Morgue, in that bleached and altered clay, De Mon- 
 taigne recognized the remains of Castruccio Cesarini. "He 
 died and made no sign! " 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 SINGULA qnaeque locum teneant sortita. 1 HORACE : Ars Poetica. 
 
 MALTKAVERS and the lawyers were enabled to save from the 
 insolvent bank but a very scanty portion of that wealth in 
 which Richard Templeton had rested so much of pride. The 
 title extinct, the fortune gone so does Fate laugh at our 
 posthumous ambition! Meanwhile Mr. Douce, with consid- 
 erable plunder, had made his way to America: the bank owed 
 nearly half a million; the purchase money for Lisle Court, 
 which Mr. Douce had been so anxious to get into his clutches, 
 had not sufficed to stave off the ruin, but a great part of it 
 sufficed to procure competence for himself. How inferior in 
 wit, in acuteness, in stratagem, was Douce to Vargrave; and 
 yet Douce had gulled him like a child ! Well said the shrewd 
 
 1 " To each lot its appropriate place."
 
 440 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 small philosopher of France " On peut etre plus fin qu'un 
 autre, mais pas plus fin que tous les autres." 1 
 
 To Legard, whom Maltravers had again encountered at 
 Dover, the latter related the downfall of Evelyn's fortunes; 
 and Maltravers loved him when he saw that, far from chang- 
 ing his affection, the loss of wealth seemed rather to raise his 
 hopes. They parted; and Legard set out for Paris. 
 
 But was Maltravers all the while forgetful of Alice? He 
 had not been twelve hours in London before he committed to 
 a long and truthful letter all his thoughts, his hopes, his 
 admiring and profound gratitude. Again, and with solemn 
 earnestness, he implored her to accept his hand, and to con- 
 firm at the altar the tale which had been told to Evelyn. 
 Truly he said that the shock which his first belief in Var- 
 grave's falsehood had occasioned, his passionate determina- 
 tion to subdue all trace of a love then associated with crime 
 and horror, followed so close by his discovery of Alice's 
 enduring faith and affection, had removed the image of 
 Evelyn from the throne it had hitherto held in his desires 
 and thoughts ; truly he said that he was now convinced that 
 Evelyn would soon be consoled for his loss by another, with 
 whom she would be happier than with him; truly and sol- 
 emnly he declared that if Alice rejected him still, if even 
 Alice were no more, his suit to Evelyn never could be re- 
 newed, and Alice's memory would usurp the place of all 
 living love! 
 
 Her answer came : it pierced him to the heart. It was so 
 humble, so grateful, so tender still. Unknown to herself, 
 love yet coloured every word; but it was love pained, galled, 
 crushed, and trampled on; it was love, proud from its very 
 depth and purity. His offer was refused. 
 
 Months passed away. Maltravers yet trusted to time. 
 The curate had returned to Brook-Green, and his letters fed 
 Ernest's hopes and assured his doubts. The more leisure 
 there was left him for reflection, the fainter became those 
 dazzling and rainbow hues in which Evelyn had been robed 
 
 1 One may be more sharp than one's neighbour, but one can't be sharper 
 than all one's neighbours. ROCHEFOUCAULD.
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 441 
 
 and surrounded, and the brighter the halo that surrounded his 
 earliest love. The more he pondered on Alice's past history, 
 and the singular beauty of her faithful attachment, the more 
 he was impressed with wonder and admiration, the more anx- 
 ious to secure to his side one to whom Nature had been so 
 bountiful in all the gifts that make woman the angel and star 
 of life. 
 
 Months passed. From Paris' the news that Maltravers 
 received confirmed all his expectations, the suit of Legard 
 had replaced his own. It was then that Maltravers began to 
 consider how far the fortune of Evelyn and her destined hus- 
 band was such as to preclude all anxiety for their future lot. 
 Fortune is so indeterminate in its gauge and measurement. 
 Money, the most elastic of materials, falls short or exceeds, 
 according to the extent of our wants and desires. With all 
 Legard's good qualities he was constitutionally careless and 
 extravagant ; and Eyelyn was too inexperienced, and too gen- 
 tle, perhaps, to correct his tendencies. Maltravers learned 
 that Legard's income was one that required an economy which 
 he feared that, in spite of all his reformation, Legard might 
 not have the self-denial to enforce. After some considera- 
 tion, he resolved to add secretly to the remains of Evelyn's 
 fortune such a sum as might, being properly secured to her- 
 self and children, lessen whatever danger could arise from the 
 possible improvidence of her husband, and guard against the 
 chance of those embarrassments which are among the worst 
 disturbers of domestic peace. He was enabled to effect this 
 generosity unknown to both of them, as if the sum bestowed 
 were collected from the wrecks of Evelyn's own wealth and 
 
 the profits of the sale of the houses in C , which of course 
 
 had not been involved in Douce's bankruptcy. And then if 
 Alice were ever his, her jointure, which had been secured on 
 the property appertaining to the villa at Fulham, would 
 devolve upon Evelyn. Maltravers could never accept what 
 Alice owed to another. Poor Alice! No! not that modest 
 wealth which you had looked upon complacently as one day 
 or other to be his. 
 
 Lord Doltimore is travelling in the East, Lady Dolti-
 
 442 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 more, less adventurous, has fixed her residence in Rome. 
 She has grown thin, and taken to antiquities and rouge. 
 Her spirits are remarkably high not an uncommon effect of 
 laudanum. 
 
 CHAPTEE THE LAST. 
 
 ARRIVED at last 
 Unto the wished haven. SHAKSPEARB. 
 
 IN the August of that eventful year a bridal party were 
 assembled at the cottage of Lady Vargrave. The ceremony 
 had just been performed, and Ernest Maltravers had bestowed 
 upon George Legard the hand of Evelyn Templeton. 
 
 If upon the countenance of him who thus officiated as a 
 father to her he had once wooed as a bride an observant eye 
 might have noted the trace of mental struggles, it was the 
 trace of struggles past; and the calm had once more settled 
 over the silent deeps. He saw from the casement the carriage 
 that was to bear away the bride to the home of another, the 
 gay faces of the village group, whose intrusion was not for- 
 bidden, and to whom that solemn ceremonial was but a joy- 
 ous pageant ; and when he turned once more to those within 
 the chamber, he felt his hand clasped in Legard's. 
 
 "You have been the preserver of my life, you have been 
 the dispenser of my earthly happiness ; all now left to me to 
 wish for is, that you may receive from Heaven the blessings 
 you have given to others ! " 
 
 " Legard, never let her know a sorrow that you can guard 
 her from ; and believe that the husband of Evelyn will be dear 
 to me as a brother ! " 
 
 And as a brother blesses some younger and orphan sister 
 bequeathed and intrusted to a care that should replace a 
 father's, so Maltravers laid his hand lightly on Evelyn's 
 golden tresses, and his lips moved in prayer. He ceased;
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 443 
 
 he pressed his last kiss upon her forehead, and placed her 
 hand in that of her young husband. There was silence ; and 
 when to the ear of Maltravers it was broken, it was by the 
 wheels of the carriage that bore away the wife of George 
 Legard ! 
 
 The spell was dissolved forever. And there stood before 
 the lonely man the idol of his early youth, Alice, still, per- 
 haps, as fair, and once young and passionate, as Evelyn ; pale, 
 changed, but lovelier than of old, if heavenly patience and 
 holy thought, and the trials that purify and exalt, can shed 
 over human features something more beautiful than bloom. 
 
 The good curate alone was present, besides these two sur- 
 vivors of the error and the love that make the rapture and 
 the misery of so many of our kind; and the old man, after 
 contemplating them a moment, stole unperceived away. 
 
 "Alice," said Maltravers, and his voice trembled, "hitherto, 
 from motives too pure and too noble for the practical affec- 
 tions and ties of life, you have rejected the hand of the lover 
 of your youth. Here again I implore you to be mine ! Give 
 to my conscience the balm of believing that I can repair to 
 you the evils and the sorrows I have brought upon you. Nay, 
 weep not ; turn not away. Each of us stands alone ; each of 
 us needs the other. In your heart is locked up all my fondest 
 associations, my brightest memories. In you I see the mirror 
 of what I was when the world was new, ere I had found how 
 Pleasure palls upon us, and Ambition deceives! And me, 
 Alice ah, you love me still! Time and absence have but 
 strengthened the chain that binds us. By the memory of our 
 early love, by the grave of our lost child that, had it lived, 
 would have united its parents, I implore you to be mine ! " 
 
 "Too generous!" said Alice, almost sinking beneath the 
 emotions that shook that gentle spirit and fragile form, " how 
 can I suffer your compassion for it is but compassion to 
 deceive yourself? You are of another station than I believed 
 you. How can you raise the child of destitution and guilt to 
 your own rank? And shall I I who, Heaven knows! 
 would save you from all regret bring to you now, when 
 years have so changed and broken the little charm I could
 
 444 ALICE; OK, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 ever have possessed, this blighted heart and weary spirit? 
 Oh, no, no! " and Alice paused abruptly, and the tears rolled 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 "Be it as you will," said Maltravers, mournfully; "but, at 
 least, ground your refusal upon better motives. Say that now, 
 independent in fortune, and attached to the habits you have 
 formed, you would not hazard your happiness in my keeping, 
 
 perhaps you are right. To my happiness you would indeed 
 contribute; your sweet voice might charm away many a mem- 
 ory and many a thought of the baffled years that have inter- 
 vened since we parted; your image might dissipate the 
 solitude which is closing round the Future of a disappointed 
 and anxious life. With you, and with you alone, I might yet 
 find a home, a comforter, a charitable and soothing friend. 
 This you could give to me; and with a heart and a form alike 
 faithful to a love that deserved not so enduring a devotion. 
 But I what can I bestow on you? Your station is equal to 
 my own; your fortune satisfies your simple wants. 'Tis true 
 the exchange is not equal, Alice. Adieu ! " 
 
 "Cruel!" said Alice, approaching him with timid steps. 
 " If I could I, so untutored, so unworthy if I could com- 
 fort you in a single care ! " 
 
 She said no more, but she had said enough ; and Maltravers, 
 clasping her to his bosom, felt once more that heart which 
 never, even in thought, had swerved from its early worship, 
 beating against his own! 
 
 He drew her gently into the open air. The ripe and mellow 
 noonday of the last month of summer glowed upon the odorous 
 flowers, and the broad sea, that stretched beyond and afar, 
 wore upon its solemn waves a golden and happy smile. 
 
 "And ah," murmured Alice, softly, as she looked up from 
 his breast, " I ask not if you have loved others since we parted 
 
 man's faith is so different from ours I only ask if you 
 love me now?" 
 
 "More! oh, immeasurably more, than in our youngest 
 days ! " cried Maltravers, with fervent passion. " More 
 fondly, more reverently, more trustfully, than I ever loved 
 living being! even her, in whose youth and innocence I
 
 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 445 
 
 adored the memory of thee ! Here have I found that which 
 shames and bankrupts the Ideal ! Here have I found a virtue, 
 that, coming at once from God and Nature, has been wiser 
 than all my false philosophy and firmer than all my pride ! 
 You, cradled by misfortune, your childhood reared amidst 
 scenes of fear and vice, which, while they scared back the 
 intellect, had no pollution for the soul, your very parent 
 your tempter and your foe; you, only not a miracle and an 
 angel by the stain of one soft and unconscious error, you, 
 alike through the equal trials of poverty and wealth, have 
 been destined to rise above all triumphant; the example of 
 the sublime moral that teaches us with what mysterious 
 beauty and immortal holiness the Creator has endowed our 
 human nature when hallowed by our human affections! You 
 alone suffice to shatter into dust the haughty creeds of the 
 Misanthrope and Pharisee ! And your fidelity to my erring 
 self has taught me ever to love, to serve, to compassionate, to 
 respect the community of God's creatures to which noble 
 and elevated though you are you yet belong ! " 
 
 He ceased, overpowered with the rush of his own thoughts. 
 And Alice was too blessed for words. But in the murmur of 
 the sunlit leaves, in the breath of the summer air, in the song 
 of the exulting birds, and the deep and distant music of the 
 heaven-surrounded seas, there went a melodious voice that 
 seemed as if Nature echoed to his words, and lest the 
 reunion of her children. 
 
 Maltravers once more entered upon the career so long sus- 
 pended. He entered with an energy more practical and 
 steadfast than the fitful enthusiasm of former years; and it 
 was noticeable amongst those who knew him well, that while 
 the firmness of his mind was not impaired, the haughtiness 
 of his temper was subdued. No longer despising Man as he 
 is, and no longer exacting from all things the ideal of a vision- 
 ary standard, he was more fitted to mix in the living World, 
 and to minister usefully to the great objects that refine and 
 elevate our race. His sentiments were, perhaps, less lofty, 
 but his actions were infinitely more excellent, and his theories 
 infinitely more wise.
 
 446 ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Stage after stage we have proceeded with him through the 
 MYSTERIES OF LIFE. The Eleusuiia are closed, and the crown- 
 ing libation poured. 
 
 And Alice ! Will the world blaine us if you are left happy 
 at the last? We are daily banishing from our law-books the 
 statutes that disproportion punishment to crime. Daily we 
 preach the doctrine that we demoralize wherever we strain 
 justice into cruelty. It is time that we should apply to the 
 Social Code the Wisdom we recognize in Legislation! It is 
 time that we should do away with the punishment of death for 
 inadequate offences, even in books ; it is time that we should 
 allow the morality of atonement, and permit to Error the right 
 to hope, as the reward of submission to its suffering. Nor let 
 it be thought that the close to Alice's career can offer tempta- 
 tion to the offence of its commencement. Eighteen years of 
 sadness, a youth consumed in silent sorrow over the grave of 
 Joy, have images that throw over these pages a dark and 
 warning shadow that will haunt the young long after they 
 turn from the tale that is about to close ! If Alice had died 
 of a broken heart, if her punishment had been more than she 
 could bear, then, as in real life, you would have justly con- 
 demned my moral; and the human heart, in its pity for the 
 victim, would have lost all recollection of the error. My tale 
 is done. 
 
 THE END.
 
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