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 ;iTY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 A^KCiX 
 
 ^\iiec\> ^
 
 •4-
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT: 
 
 ^ IKfobtl 
 
 BY 
 
 E. M. STEWART, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " LOKD DACRE OF GILSLAND," " RODENHUKST,' 
 
 " ROYALISTS AND ROUNDHEADS," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 
 _« — If o j_-j — r'T-**" 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., PAUEINGDON STREET. 
 
 1852.
 
 .' . ' . • 

 
 ^ 
 
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT, 
 
 lU 
 
 ^ CHAPTEE I. 
 
 'kC " Tell me why, good heaven, 
 
 C Thou mad'st me what I am, with all the spmt, 
 
 ^■^ Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires, 
 
 That till the happiest man ; ah, rather why 
 Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate V" 
 
 Venice Preserved, 
 ip 
 
 oThe early twilight of an unusuall.y fine clay in October, was 
 ^ah'eacly descending over the wild romantic tracts of Derbyshu'e, 
 ■^but m the west still Imgered broad streams of crimson, the 
 "• reflection of the d.\-ing sunbeams, which tinged with a lurid glow 
 ^_ the tall pine trees that fringed the summits of the mou.ntauis, 
 it while the waters of the lake thut skirted their base, slept drear 
 ^ and chill beneath a mass of vapour. 
 
 In the cheerfulness of midday that scene was sufficiently 
 
 alluring, -with the clear blue lake overhung by the bluer clouds, 
 
 and the contrast of colour in the woods wliich covered the 
 
 ^mountains, or the furze and wild flowers that fringed its banks. 
 
 ^But now, as the last saffron tints paled into a melancholy pur- 
 
 {ple, and the autiuunal wind sweeping down froni the dark 
 
 '^MM^oods, di'ove the mists from the lake and cm-lecl its sm-face 
 
 ^with mimic waves, the locality might have seemed strangely 
 
 x^hoseu for the cottage residence whose walls of white stone 
 
 still gleamed through the coming darkness. 
 ~:\ Though originally of very humble pretensions, an air of neat- 
 • ness, and even taste, pervaded the appointments of this httle 
 C^^welling and the suiTOunding garden, whicli intimated its occu- 
 pants of a class above the mere i^easants.who uihabit such 
 little stone-built cottages, in a county where that material is 
 cheaper than wood. The garden walks were neatly gravelled, 
 the clustering thickets of laurestinus and arbutus, the fii'st 
 now ui full bloom, and the last droopmg with its weight of 
 dehcate scarlet bei-ries, Avere trimly kept ; and the -^-recks of 
 the last summer's flowers had been carefully cleared away : 
 while a light from a room on the gi-oimd floor of the cottage, 
 shone tlu'ough closely-drawn curtams of crimson moreen. 
 Meanwhile the fineness of the day seemed likely to have
 
 4 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 been the herald of but a stormy night. The bleak and bitter 
 wind that howled over the mountains drove rain and sleet 
 before it across the valley below ; and as the cottage door Mas 
 opened, the young girl who stei^ped forth shrunk and shud- 
 dered in the blast. 
 
 As sbe stood for a moment involuntarily hesitating to trust 
 lierself to the coining stonn, her hand was gently clasped, and 
 the voice of a child exclaimed, " Dear Lilhas, do not leave me ; 
 ■we shall have a storm, and how will you cross the heath ? Be- 
 sides, Lillias, while papa sleeps I am afraid !" 
 
 " My darhng Alice !" said Lillias, bursting into tears, as she 
 led the child, a girl of about thirteen, back mto the house, " I 
 indeed grieve to leave you alone with yom* sick father ; but, 
 indeed, dearest, he is ver^' iU, and I must go to the town for 
 the doctor, and to see wliether there is a letter for me from 
 Ltmdou ; be of good heart tlien, clear child, and I will soon be 
 back !" 
 
 Once more then cUd Lilhas steal into the little chamber 
 •nhere her father la.y, in that stnpor, rather than sleep, which 
 is so often an actual forerunner of death ; and then kissing the 
 child, for whom her heart ached as she left her, she saUiecl out 
 into the darkness and the stonn. 
 
 A dreary walk was before the poor Lillias, for the dwelling 
 of her father, Henry Davenant, was distant five miles from the 
 railway and three from the nearest town ; and to reach this 
 town it was necessary, after issuing from the vaUey in which 
 the cottage stood, to cross a wide and desolate heath, on the 
 borders of which stood an old deserted bmlding, wliich had at 
 one time been the abode of a family of some consideration; but 
 the last possessor having been, thi'ough his own imprudence, 
 involved in pecuniary difficulties, had committed suicide ; and 
 the ]ieasants of the disti'ict having thcreui)on detemiined that 
 the house in which he perix'trated the fatal act was the resort 
 of his uiKjuict spirit, had so scared all ])arties proposing to be- 
 come its tenants, that it had been finally abandoned to decay ; 
 and was accordingly an object of terror to all suijerstitious 
 passers-by after niglitfall. 
 
 I'rom such fancies as these the naturally strong mind of 
 Lillias Davenant would have held her wholly free, had not her 
 futlier shown her their absurdity. But though whoUy untinged 
 by superstition, Lillias was both sensitive and enthusiastic ; 
 and ever as she passed by that ill-omened house, her busy 
 imagination woidd shape out the frightfid scene of its last 
 ])Ossessor's end, and her blood would curdle with an involun- 
 lar\' hoiTor. 
 
 Other thouglits, however, — harrowing reflections upon home 
 miseries, — occupied the mind of the young girl during her 
 dreary walk on that stormy aututmial night.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 5 
 
 Little did slie heed tliat, as she climbed tlie steep ascent from 
 tlie valley, she trod upon the shppery verge of the dark ra\'inc 
 that yawned below, or that in her coiu'se across the heatli 
 beyond she was approaching nearer than was her wont to the 
 dismantled dwelling of the suicide. Her hea-\^- woollen mantle 
 was ah-eady soaked \^ith rain, and the keen blast blew so piti- 
 lessly in her face, that at times she was compelled to pause in her 
 way, till the violence of its fuiy was i^ast. But sufficiently hea^'y 
 were her thoughts to make her regardless of the storm : the 
 hai'd, stern necessities of life, which ought not to have been known 
 to her twenty years, forced reflections upon her mind such as 
 harassed not the wealthy, prosperous daughters of fortune, who 
 had more than doubled her httle span of existence. 
 
 Bitter and angry accusations of her destiny, too, rose in that 
 hour to the heart and brain of Lillias Davenant. She thought 
 of her dead mother, of her dying father, both jn-essed into the 
 gi'aA'e by the chill hand of harsh, relentless poverty; an actual 
 conflict with, the world which the ghmpses even of her youth 
 had shown to be so ciiiel, but which she must encounter hand to 
 hand, when the death of her father shoidd compel her to gain 
 bread by her own exertions, for herself and her helpless darling 
 Ahce. " And why," exclaimed Lilhas, as she toiled through the 
 rain and darkness of that di-eary night, " was I not formed as 
 sordid as my fate?" And then her thoughts assmned yet a 
 greater bitterness as she contemplated her visit to the post-office, 
 in the slight hope of an answer to the letter which three weeks 
 before she had, without her father's knowledge, written to the 
 purse-proud brother of her deceased mother. It was vrith a last 
 and indeed a faint hoi^e, that Lilhas had bowed her pride to ad- 
 dress this man ; but there was yet, she thought, the thousandth 
 part of a chance that he might be moved by the entreaties of 
 his sister's child, and furnish her, out of his abundance, M-ith the 
 means to remove her fiither to a milder air than that of their 
 retreat amid the bleak hills of Derbyshu-e. Tlu-ee long weeks, 
 however, an age of agonized exi^ectation to the suffering girl, 
 had passed smce her letter had been sent to London, and it was 
 with a heart sickened by the pangs of disajjpointed hope that she 
 puiijosed calhng at the post-office that night, before seeking the 
 abode of the single medical ijractitioner who resided in the 
 Httle town of A . 
 
 Lost thus in the tumidt of her sorrowful and indignant 
 thoughts, it was mechanically that Lillias Davenant pursued her 
 way across the heath : and it was by a kind of chance only, that, 
 raising her head, she perceived, by the dim outline of what had 
 once been a garden wall, that she had entered the very domain 
 of the suicide ; and she drew back with a thi'ill of hoiTor as she 
 found, from the mtensity of blackness on the ground before her, 
 that she had almost fallen iuto an old dry well, which she knew
 
 6 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 to be jiist witliin tlie wall, Trliicli was, hi many places, decayed 
 and broken do^^ii. 
 
 Exhausted with the rapidity of her walk, and stai-tled also by 
 the danger which she had so narrowly escaped, IJllias staggered 
 back, and leaned for su]jport against the trimk of a huge elder, 
 from the sin-eading boughs of which leaves and fiiiit were 
 s^yept together by the passing giist ; for none of the peasants 
 of the district had chosen to risk an entrance mto what they 
 held as a haunted domain, even for the rev/ard of a good store of 
 spiced wme for the -ndnter. 
 
 As breatldesa and panting the young gud still leaned against 
 tliis tree, she accidentally raised her eyes to the deserted house, 
 and, to her astonishment and teiTor, beheld a light flit past one 
 of the casements in an upper apartment. The mind of Lilhas, 
 as before observed, was wholly untainted by superstition ; but 
 she was not free from fear of such eai'tldy occupants as might 
 have taken possession of the dwelling, and she would imme- 
 diately have left the garden, biit that at the same moment she 
 heard the noise of cart-wheels rolling with a kmd of midfled 
 sound over the moist heather close to the wall, and perceived a 
 tall man beaming a lantern issue from the dismantled dwelling. 
 Oveii)Oweredbytheimpidseofanirresistibleterror,Ldliasshnmk 
 closer into the shadow of the black branches of the tree; but her 
 attempt at concealment was useless, as two persons who had 
 apparently descended from the cart entered the garden, bearing 
 between them M'hat seemed to be the body of a man, who miist 
 have been either msensible or dead, as the large mantle in wliich 
 he was wrai:)ped covered even his face. One of the persons, who 
 with a]iparent ditficulty aided in the task of bearing the cor]3se, 
 if such it was, to the utter astonishment of Lillias, was a woman. 
 It seemed, too. that she was in some apprehension of discoA^ery ; 
 for, as the light from the lantern borne bj^ the man who had 
 issued from the house glared upon the wet and gloomy scene, she 
 cast a slioT]) scrutinizing glance around her, and perceiving the 
 tcrriiicid Lillias shrinking beneatli the elder, she dropped her 
 burden, and darting forwards, seized the maiden in her fierce 
 gripe, and loading her with abuse, dragged her into the 
 fight. 
 
 A more utter contrast of appearance coidd not have existed 
 tlian tJiat Mliicli was jn-escnted by LOlias and the virago who 
 lield licr in her grasp. A dash of coarse beauty was in the 
 high, bold, prominent features and black eyes of the latter; and 
 lier tall and bulky, but not ill-proportioned fio-ure, was a 
 fitting characteristic of one, who, as she ])oswessecl the animal 
 strength, had also the savage and brutal temper of the worst 
 specimens of man. As for Lillias, the glare of the lantern, as 
 it was now held close to her face, discovered features ex- 
 quisitely delicato and regidar, bxit not critically or strikingly
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 7 
 
 beautiful in their form. Her oomplexiorif pure as alabaster, and 
 unrelieved at the moment by the slig-htost tmt of red, was 
 strongly contrasted by the aghast look of the large hazel eyes, 
 and the darkness of the chestnut hair, which, di-ipping with the 
 rain, hung in heavy masses on either side of her white face. 
 The fomi of Lihias, too, shght and fraghe, shook hke a lily m 
 the blast, beneath the strong hand of her assailant. 
 
 " Spy ! wretch ! you shall pay for this with your life," shouted 
 the fuiy, as she commenced to drag the helpless girl towards 
 the deserted house. Meanwhile, even in the agony of her 
 terror, Lillias perceived, as the mantle fell from the face of the 
 man wlio had been boi'ne mto the garden, that liis brow was 
 gashed by a homble woimd, from which streams of blood liad 
 ilowed, in hideous contrast to the ashy colour of his face. She 
 averted her eyes from the frightful spectacle, and would have 
 implored her cai)tor for mercy, but that a stronger hand even 
 than that of the woman, released her ; and the man who had 
 issued from the house exclaimed in a stern but sorrowful tone — 
 
 " Be content, Maria ; attend you to your woimded husband ; 
 our secrets will be safe for this gu'l, I will answer for that when 
 I have had speech Tvith her ! And you, Lillias Davenant, come 
 ■^^^th me ; since we have met thus, it behoves not that we shoidd 
 part immediately." 
 
 As he spoke thus, the stranger had led Lilhas even to the 
 tlu-eshold of the ruined house ; though, overcome by terror, 
 resistance she felt was vain, yet, as she glanced at the haggard 
 features of her new captor, she thought that she perceived in 
 them an expression that behed the conclusion to which his 
 companionship with the furious woman might have led. Nor 
 was LLUias exempt, even in the teiTor of the moment, from 
 some sui'prise at the man's familiarity with her name. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " I have not loved the world, nor the world me ; 
 I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed 
 To its idolati'ies a patient knee." 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 An hour had elapsed from the time of the encounter of Lillias 
 with the strange occupant of the deserted house of the suicide, 
 and with senses stvmned as it were by a tremendous revelation, 
 she entered the town of A . The means, however, of re- 
 moving her father from his present, to liim, unhealthy residence, 
 were now in the young girl's possession. A pui'se heavy with 
 gold was concealed m her bosom, with a kind of mechanical 
 precaution ; but even amid the beAvildermeut, which was the 
 effect of the stranger's marvellous commiuiications, a harassing 
 doubt crossed her mind as to whether she ought, in conjuuctiou
 
 8 LILLIAS DAVEXANT. 
 
 ^vitll them, or v, itli Ms solemn and secret mandate, to have ac- 
 cepted that pecuniaiy assistance which was so needful and all im- 
 portant. Though the reply of her uncle, the city knight, Sir Ga- 
 briel Milhnan. was now far less important to Lilhas than it had 
 been hut an hour before, she yet caUed at the i)Ost-office in her 
 Avay to tlie surgeon's house, but delayed not to examine the 
 letter which was waiting for her. Amid aU the horror and eon- 
 fusion of thought into wliich she had been plunged by the 
 stranger, whom his associates called by the name of Tracy, she 
 forgot not the penlous condition of her father, or the fearful 
 oue of her beloved sister Ahce, should he become worse in her 
 absence. 
 
 Fortunately for Ldlias, the medical man hajopened to be at 
 home when she reached his house, and her evidently violent 
 agitation was attributed by him to the dhiess of her father, and 
 lier exposiu-e to the stomi. 
 
 The surgeon, Mr. Hanway, was a man possessing considerable 
 skill in his profession, and private ])roperty which enabled him 
 to exercise it almost free of cost towards those whose poverty 
 was as e^ddent to his discernment as it was j)ainful to the be- 
 nevolence of his heart. 
 
 yir. Planway. however, was not a man of smooth manners 
 and lionicd vrords for fanciful adments ; it was more from a love 
 of liis ])rofessioii than fi'om necessity that he exercised it, and 
 lie had but little inchnation to waste either his time or his 
 a])ilities upon those whose indisposition was the result of the 
 liLxuries, or discontented mmds, caused by an overabundance of 
 t]ie world's goods. It was in accordance, therefore, with his 
 character that his manners, so harsh towards fortune's favourites, 
 were ever full of earnest imaffectcd kindness towards the 
 family of the Davenants. When first the ruin of her husband 
 com])elled a retreat into the wilds of Derbysliire, upon no other 
 sup]iort than an annuity v.liicli would not have sufficed to cover 
 their house-rent in happier days, Mrs. Davenant had been 
 compeUed to apply for the professional ad^^ce of Mr. Hanway, 
 and thus had he become acquainted with the family under its 
 trial of the worst kind of poverty : that poverty of the middle 
 classes, which is even more terrible Iti its degradations than in 
 its sufferings, wliich compels its victims to wear the mask of 
 content, and purchase the semblance of respectabihtj-, at the 
 ]jrice of necessarv^ comforts. 
 
 Thus, when iillias Davenant, with her garments dripping 
 M itli rain, and her pale face showing the marks of the utmost 
 disorder, appeared before Mr. Hanway, he Inuried her from 
 the surgeiy, in which she was waiting for him, to the par- 
 lour, where lie was drinking tea with his wife, who, to the 
 full as kind-Jiearted as himself, immediately disrobed the 
 young girl of her wet mantle, w rapped her in a large shawl,
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 9 
 
 and insisted that she shoidd drink a cup of wann tea, wliile 
 the chaise was being prepared Avliich was to carry her back 
 to the cottage in conii)any with Mr. Hanway. 
 
 Poor Lillias accepted these kind attentions ^sdth an ajjparent 
 apathy, that differed much from lier usually earnest expres- 
 sions of gi-atitude for even inferior kindness. Tliis abstraction 
 was attributed by Mrs. Hanway to the unhappy posture of 
 affairs in the girl's little home ; she knew not how momen- 
 tous and fearfid a disclosure had so lately come to be^\•ilder 
 more cruelly the abeady harassed mind of Lillias. Amid all 
 the anxieties that had pressed upon her parents, and in 
 which for the last few years she had fvdly shared, she had 
 not experienced that gi'eatest of all griefs, whose cause must 
 be locked in the breast of the sufferer, and now, under 
 sensations of terror never before known, LiUias, as Mr. 
 Hanway's chaise approached the heath, glanced towards the 
 fatal house, and exi^ected each moment to see the mysterious 
 Tracy start from the deep shadows that hovered around it. 
 
 ^ *?? ^ ^F ^ 
 
 About the time that Lillias reached the house of the sur- 
 geon, an elegant carnage, with an earl's coronet on the 
 
 panels, left the railway station nearest the town of A , 
 
 and took its course across the coiuitry towards the valley 
 in which stood the cottage of Mr. Davenant. 
 
 About tlu-ee miles beyond that vaUey stood one of those 
 stately but gloom,y mansions of old red brick, which raise 
 theii- fiery fronts amid the shades of our island beech and 
 oak with a very reijulsive kind of grandeur. 
 
 Something there is in these ancient dwellings, with their 
 spacious chambers opening one into another, their closets 
 large enough for sleeping-rooms in a modern house ; their 
 tall, narrow, and midtitudinous casements ; their ornaments 
 and copings of cold grey stone, and even their stately teiTaces 
 in front, with statues grim enough to pass in the moouhght 
 for the ghosts of the mansions' fomier inhabitants : some- 
 thing there is in aU tins more fearful to an active imaguia- 
 tion than even the feudal hon'ors of an ItaUan castle. 
 Visions of ladies in liigh-heeled shoes and saques, tlie veritable 
 beldames of the " Tapestried Chamber," haunt such mansions 
 as these ; or sadder, and less repidsive, the spectre of a fair 
 and gentle maiden, who has died love-lorn, sunk broken- 
 hearted under some criiel sire or imcle's hard decree, and 
 who now roams the scene of her past suffering and bhghted 
 hopes, with her cheeks a thought too pale, and with a stony, 
 impassive glare in her large blue eyes. 
 
 Such a mansion as this was the manor house at Beech- 
 gTOve, wliich, -n-ith the estate attached to it, had fallen, 
 thi'ough tho maiTiage of an heiress, some three generations
 
 10 LILLIXS DAVENANT. 
 
 back, into tlie possession of the Earl of Dajdsford ; and the 
 occupants of tlie carriage were no other than the wife, only 
 daughter, and son and heir of the present peer. The gene- 
 rosity, or imprudence, of the Earl of Daylsford's predecessors, 
 or perhaps rather the necessity of providing for the younger 
 branches of then; famihes, had deeply embaiTassed their noble 
 estate. A man-iage between Lord Laugley, the heir of the 
 earldom, and the beautiful daughter of a wealthy citizen, was 
 now proposed to prop the failing fortimes of Daylsford ; but 
 it was ■SNith a severe pang that the earl, wliose family i^ride 
 really exliibited itself in the most honovu-able fomi, consented 
 to the aUiance yriih the upstart Sir Gabriel Mdlman, who, 
 traly exemplifying "the meamiess that soars, and pride that 
 licks the dust," and dazzled by the glare of a title, had 
 literally made the first proposals to the earl. 
 
 With a person of extreme beauty, and a temper gentle as 
 the dove's, GeneA^eve Milhnan, though she had decidedly 
 no preference for Lord Langley, dreamed not for a moment 
 of opposing her father's will; and the ^^scount, whose fine 
 natural abihties and noble disposition fashion could alone 
 spoil, was well content to be encumbered w-ith a wife, too 
 gentle to be offensive, and whose dehcate beauty made her 
 appearance sufficiently aristocratic. 
 
 Beechgrove having been determined on as the country resi- 
 dence of the young couple. Lord Langley, A\'ith liis mother and 
 sister, were proceedhig thither to inspect its condition and 
 appomtments, as the family had not visited it for two years. 
 
 The stormy evening promising them but an impleasant 
 journey, Lord Langley and his sister liad entreated their 
 mother to pass the night at the railway hotel ; but the 
 countess, a fretful and fastidious woman of fashion, ex- 
 claiming against the inconvenience of iDublie inns, had insisted 
 upon i^roceeding to Beechgrove ; and as the darkness of the 
 night continued to increase, and the carriage lamps shed a 
 limited and fitful glare over the road, bordered by a steep 
 descent, she entertained her son and daughter with many 
 pee\nsli assm-ances that the vehicle would surely be over- 
 turned. 
 
 Meanwliile, the travellers were being driven rapidly along 
 the tops of the lulls mIucIi descended to St. Mary's Vale, the 
 abode of the Davenants, and coming from the heath, about 
 two hundred yards in the rear, was the chaise of Mr. Hanway. 
 The stonn was at its height, keen blasts of ^^'ind howled across 
 the mountains, and the sharii sleet, driftmg in the face of the 
 carl's coachman, made it difficult for the man to see the way ; 
 and thus he drove at full speed against a solitary^ horseman, 
 who was riding at dangeroiis speed towards the carriage. A 
 sadden starting of the horses, an imx)recatiou both fi'om the
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 11 
 
 coarliman and tlio travcllci' -wliom lie liacl encountorcd, and a 
 \n\d shriek Irom the eountess and Lady Emily, almost aecom- 
 ))anied the overturning of the carriage, which, having been. 
 cU'iven dangerously near to the precipice, was now dragged 
 down it by the plunging horses. Fortunatel3^ the descent at 
 tliat point was gradual, and, at about ten feet from the brow, 
 the hill sunk into a kind of hollow basin, lined with turf, where 
 the carnage lodged, with no more injuiy than some smart 
 biinses for the servants, and a sprained ankle fur Lady Dayls- 
 ford. The traveller, who had been, in some measure, the cause 
 of the accident, hastened to offer his assistance, together with 
 Mr. Hanway, whose chaise had now reached the spot. The 
 countess, who was iinable to put her foot to the ground, was 
 first extricated from the carnage, and borne up the hill by Mr. 
 Hanway and the traveller ; but the hght from the lamps flash- 
 ing full upon his face as he assisted the surgeon to place Lady 
 Daylsford in the chaise, Lillias recoiled, in the remembrance of 
 her adventure at the niined house ; and the countess, as she 
 tui'nod her eyes slowly on his features, uttered a lamentable 
 sliriek, and fell into a heavy swoon. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 " The midnight clock hath tolled, and hark ! the bell 
 Of death beats slow : heard ye the note profound ? 
 It pauses now, and now with rising knell, 
 Flings to the hollow gate its sullen sound." 
 
 Sateb. 
 
 Three hours had elapsed since the accident which had hap- 
 pened to the Countess of Daylsford, who had been conveyed 
 to the residence of Mr. Davenant, where the small but neat 
 bedchamber of Lillias and Ahce had been relinquished to her, 
 the report of the surgeon as to the condition of ^Ir. Davenant 
 having decided Lilhas upon sitting up for the remainder of the 
 night. As for the poor httle Alice, worn out with the fatigue 
 of the day (for the illness of their father had made it necessary 
 that she should discharge many little domestic duties wliich 
 were usually executed by Lilhas), she ah-eady slept soundly on 
 a sofa wliich stood in Mr. Davenant's chamber. 
 
 It was not till after she had been canned to the house of Mr. 
 Davenant, that Lady Daylsford had recovered from the swoon 
 into which she had fallen, apparently on beholding the stranger, 
 who was fatally known to Ldhas Davenant as the dweller ui 
 the ruined'house on the heath. This man did not accompany 
 the party to the residence of Mr. Davenant, but withdrew 
 with some haste, and even rudeness. As for the countess, her 
 ankle was severely sprained, and she exhibited so much excite- 
 ment ou reviving from her swoon, that Mr. Hauway prescribed
 
 12 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 absolute quiet till such time as lie could send a mu'se from the 
 
 town of A , together with a composing draught and apph- 
 
 cations for the sprained foot. Amidst, however, the real 
 anxiety and pain which she suffered, Lady Daylsford gave way 
 to so many fretful lamentations, such bitter regrets that she 
 had sent her maid the preceding day to Beechgrove, and must 
 submit to the attendance, for a night at least, of some woman 
 ■whose office liad hitherto been no better than that of nursing 
 
 persons no more chstinguished than the residents of A , 
 
 that Mr. Hanway rougiily recommended her to submit to the 
 suifering and inconvenience of dispensing wdth a nurse alto- 
 gether. 'Lord Langley, whose impatient temper allowed him 
 but seldom to brook the fantastic whims of his mother, walked 
 out of her room, and Lady Emily, whose disposition //v&s as 
 gentle as her mother's was the reverse, endeavoured to i^acify 
 her ]Dresent ill-humour by promising that she woidd herself sit 
 up for the whole of the night ; to which proposition the coun- 
 tess, whose gi'eat regard for herself wholly forbade any con- 
 sideration for others, very readily assented. 
 
 As for Lord Langley, as LiUias Davenant had set her Kttle 
 l^arlour at his service, together ^dth the single spare bedroom 
 that the cottage contained, he declared his intention of remain- 
 ing at St. Mary's Vale for the night ; while the servants were 
 
 despatched to the town of A for every dehcacy which it 
 
 was or was not hkely to furnish. 
 
 The fastidious young man of fashion might not, however, 
 have exhibited so much of the filial anxiety which he alleged 
 as his reason for preferruig the very humble accommodations 
 of Mr. Davenant's cottage to the conveniences of the prin- 
 cipal inn at A , had not his jaded mind been interested by 
 
 the pale, but sweet and intellectual countenance and refined 
 manners of LiUias. That absence of all thought of self, too, 
 that p(;rfcct innocence of display, which was exanced by the 
 manner in wliich she spoke of the perilous state of her father, 
 yet at the same time, while Ahce watched beside him, hastened 
 to put tlie chaml)ers in order, and set before Loi'd Langley and 
 his sister such refreshments as the cottage afforded, still more 
 charmed tlic young nobleman, wearied as he was with the arti- 
 ficial yet insipid manners of the young ladies of quahty. 
 
 Poor LiUias, liowever, was, for the ]iassing time, wholly 
 heedless both of the impression she had made, and of Lord 
 Langley 's vast superi(jrity of person and manners over aU the 
 young men with whom her secluded hie had brought her into 
 contact. 
 
 Thus, when she had placed some cakes and elder-wine of her 
 own making before lier guests, and the nurse, and tlie medi- 
 cines, and the servants, with a Iiamper of provisions and wines 
 of a very difl'urent quality, had arrived from A , sick at
 
 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 13 
 
 heart, and loathing the idea of food, Lillias dcchncd Lady 
 EmiJy's invitation to share the repast; and, retiring to her 
 fatlier's room, sat down to watch him in tliat lethargic sleep 
 which had so ranch alarmed her in the earlier ])art of the even- 
 ing, and from which he had been with dithcvdty aroused, even 
 diu'mg the visit of Mr. Hanway. Alas ! at twenty years of 
 age, Lilhas was alread.y too ftimihar with scenes of sickness 
 and sorrow ; and as, shading the candle with her hand, she 
 gazed upon the livid features of her only parent, and marked 
 him still suidf hi that didl toii)or, she feared too well that it 
 was but the precursor of the last and ch'eamless sleep. 
 
 Now, too, when she had heard Lord Langley retire to his 
 chamber, and knew tliat none were waking in the house save 
 herself and the sick nurse, who watched beside the countess, 
 she ventm-ed to take from her bosom the yet unread letter of 
 yir Gabriel Millman, the capitahst and monej' -jobber, whose 
 gambhng transactions put shame upon the honourable title of 
 a British merchant, wliich he most impudently assumed. Five 
 years had elapsed since the broken fortunes of Mr. Davenaut 
 had compeUed him to retreat into Derbyshire ; and during that 
 period Lillias had tasted much of the bitterness of poverty ; 
 but this bitterness was more hi the actual privation of comforts 
 and enjo>Tnents, than in the galling sneers and cold indifference 
 of those by whom fortune had dealt more kindly. The poor 
 but proud and high-minded Lillias had yet to learn that poverty 
 has a gi'eater evil than the privations that it inHicts, and that 
 this e^al is rampant, not in the solitude of the country, but in 
 the popidation of the town ; that from thence come the thou- 
 sand "scorns which patient merit of the unworthy takes." 
 Lillias, however, could not have fallen into more j)erfect hands 
 to teach her these things than those of Sir Gabriel Millman. 
 An admirable lesson to begin with was his letter ; and then his 
 near relationship endowed him with an extra privilege for 
 giving advice, which, he said, was fuU of plain truth, and 
 which certaiidy had veiy little disguise in its insult — at least, 
 so Lillias thought, while tears of anger and wounded pride 
 coursed down her cheeks as she perused it. 
 
 Another letter fell from Sir Gabriel's as Lilhas opened it, and 
 the address on this letter was written in a dehcate female 
 hand ; but LUhas, wlio knew enough of the character of her 
 uncle to be very doubtfid as to the nature of his reply, throw™ 
 ing this letter aside, addressed herself to that of the knight. 
 
 "Dear Niece, 
 
 (Most aflectionately began this precious epistle), 
 
 " I was seriously annoyed by the receii)t of your letter ; if I 
 
 were to attend to all the applications for money that I receive, 
 
 I assure you that I should not have half a sovereign left for 
 
 myself, or my family ; and of course I must remember my duty
 
 14 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 to tliem. You ask me, too, for no less a sum than thirty 
 pounds, which you say that you require to remove your father 
 into Devonshire, and to pay some small debts, which you owe 
 at A- — —. Now, my dear Lilhas, you must not be offended by 
 mj' telling you that poor people should not have any debts ; 
 AA'hat you cannot pay for, go without ; and the smaller your 
 income, the more necessity to keep it unembarrassed, since 
 half a loaf is better than no bread. As for the illness of your 
 father, to speak the plain truth, I do think the sooner he is 
 out of the world the better. He is a vast deal too learned and 
 clever ever to do any good in it ; I never knew a clever man 
 in my life that did not die in a garret. It is better, be assured, 
 for a man to be a butcher, than what is called a genius. These 
 people, who have their own heads so full of learning, very seldom 
 have any images of the queen's head in their pockets. I am 
 sadly afraid, too, that your father and mother have filled j'ou 
 ^\ith their own ridiculous pride : now pride without money 
 Avill never do in this world. You mention some nonsense 
 about obtauiing employment as a governess, or by the sale of 
 drawings, when your lather gets better, and thereby returning 
 the sxun you ask me to lend. I was sorry to see that you men- 
 tion such kind of employments ; your parents would have done 
 much better by bringing you up for a waiting-maid, or a 
 mantua-maker, when my wife says you might have gone out 
 to work, and got at least eighteenpence per day. However, it 
 is not likely that yoiu" father, who was such a fool as to suffer 
 his brother to swindle him out of his fortime, or yoiu- mother, 
 whose head was always full of poeti-y, and other nonsense, 
 shoidd know how to bring ui:> theu' children properly. I really 
 had at fii'st some tlioughts of not answering your letter ; but 
 my eldest daughter has suggested, that since you have fixed 
 yoiu" mind upon being a governess, you might be of use about 
 the children of my present wife, who proposes to give you a 
 salary of forty poimds a year, out of which I shall expect a 
 quarterly return of five pounds out of the thirty, which, upon 
 these coudititjus only, 1 enclose a clie([ue for : you will thus 
 have five pounds per quarter left for clothes ; and if you take 
 your father into Devonshire before you settle with us, you can 
 engage some old \Aoman, or gbl, who ^^ill attend to liim and 
 Alice. 
 
 " You need not show this letter to your father ; he would 
 ]iot hear sound advice when he was well, and, I can ans\\ er, 
 will have no better rehsh for it now. Expecting an answer by 
 return of post, 
 
 " I remain, my dear Niece, 
 
 " Your aflectionat^ uncle, 
 
 " Gaukiel Millman." 
 
 The. closing uijunction of this brutal letter was very super- 
 fluous. For worlds LiUias would not have made her dyiug
 
 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 15 
 
 fatlier a sbarer in her own wounded pride, and as she indig- 
 nantly threw it on tlic talile before her, she discussed with 
 herself the propriety of returning the cheque, which was 
 
 drawn on the bank of A -. The assistance which she had 
 
 tliat night received from tlie stranger, Tracy, had rendered 
 her to a certain degree, and for the present in fact, inde- 
 pendent of her uncle's pecmiiary aid. But, alas! the mournful 
 and ten-ible secrets which he had confided to her keeping, his 
 stern uijimctions that she should keep silence as to her know- 
 ledge of hun and his piu'suits, these recollections forced upon 
 the mmd of LUlias the conviction that the pecuniary help 
 which he had afforded her must be to a certain extent con- 
 cealed. While her mind was still harassed -with these thoughts,^ 
 her eye fell upon the letter which had been enclosed in that of 
 Sir Grabriel, which on opening she foimd was addressed to her 
 by his eldest daughter. Light and darkness were not more 
 ■unlike than were Sir Gabriel Millman and his gentle daughter, 
 Genevieve ; while all that he could be said to have of soul 
 was base and gi-oveUing, coarse and repulsive as his outward 
 form, the mind of his daughter was in perfect accordance with 
 a face and person of the most dehcate and fragile beauty. 
 Surely the letter of Genevieve was a balm for the heart of the 
 poor Lillias, wounded to the core by the vidgar insolence of 
 Sir Gabriel. . 
 
 " Dear Cottsin Lillias. 
 "It was by chance only that I foimd this morning that you 
 had written to my father ; and I fear that he may, in what he 
 fancies his good intentions, say things in his reply, wliich may 
 be hurtful to my uncle or youi-self : b\it be assivred, dearest 
 Lillias, that my father's will to assist you is really good, though 
 his speech is bitter. But he has had much to do with the 
 world, and has often lost large sums through careless or unprin- 
 cipled men ; so that you see, dear LUlias, his words are worse 
 than his deeds ; and you riiust not judge him by his words. 
 I liave as a great favour obtained a peep at the end of my 
 father's letter, and I find ho mentions something about yoiu* 
 returning money to him at five poimds per quarter : now do 
 not let this distress you, dearest Lilhas, I will find means of 
 makmg up that httle sum for you, even if I should be still at 
 home, which is, I fear, iinhkely. I shall be able to assist you 
 to more than to so trifling an amount ; as an earnest of this, 
 I enclose ten poimds out of my last quarter's expenses, and 
 only regret that it is not more. Pray write to me, dearest 
 LUiias, by return of post, and give my love to my dear imcle ; 
 I hope he will soon be well, and t^ion you can estabhsh him in 
 some pretty cottage ^iia dear iiiuc Alice, and come and live 
 \Adth us. And indeed, Lilhas, fortimate as the world thinks me, 
 I have sometimes need of a friend on whom I can rel3-. Fare-
 
 16 IILLIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 well, then, dearest Lillias, and believe that thougLi doubtless 
 the ^^ant of money is very- bitter, there are yet other evils in 
 the world than that. 
 
 "Yours most sLacerelj^ 
 
 " Genevieve Millmax." 
 Tears, the source of wliieh was in gentler emotions than 
 those caused by the epistle of Sir Gabriel. fcU from the eyes 
 of Lhhas, as she perused the letter of his daughter : but ever 
 in proportion as a proud and passionate spirit rebels att^•ranny 
 and mjustice, does it melt at the show of kindness ; and in 
 gratitude for the gentle kindness of Genevieve, Ldhas half 
 iorgot the iiilgar msidts \^-hicll the city knight had couched 
 imder the pretence of advice. Some wonder however rose hi 
 the mind of LiUias, as to the reason why her cousin had not 
 mentioned the children of whose education it was proposed 
 that she should take charge. Lilhas had indeed been told by 
 her motlier, for her father never in any wav alluded to the 
 familj-, that Genevieve was the daughter of S'u- Gabriel's first 
 wife, and tliat his second was an exceedingly illiterate and vulgar 
 woman, who had proved but an unkind step-mother ; but to 
 tins there was no aUusion in the letter of the amiable Gene- 
 vieve. Neither was Ldhas aware that the trifle of ten pounds 
 wliich accompanied it was the fniit of some self-denial on the part 
 of ]ier cousin: that while Sir Gabriel insisted that the apparel 
 of his daughter should be even extravagant in its expense and 
 elegance, wlule he offered with her hand a fortune sulficient to 
 disembarrass the estates of an earldom, he was niggardly in 
 the actual amoimt of money ^^hich he allowed for her private 
 expenses ; so that it was with difficulty Genevieve could at the 
 end of each quarter reserve a few pounds wherewith to indulge 
 the feehngs of her generous heart. It was indeed the hu- 
 manity of his daughter that Sir Gabriel feared ; he woidd not 
 tliat the stain "of wronged orphan's tears " should be washed 
 from any ])ortion of his pelf by the sweeter drops of gTatitude. 
 It Avill be observed, too, that neither Genevieve nor her 
 father alluded in then- letters to the pmposed alliance with 
 Lord Langley ; the base and mahgnant jiride of Sir Gabriel 
 Jiad dictated tins omission; he promised liimself much satis- 
 faction in announcing j^ersonally to the child of IIeni->- Dave- 
 nant, -nhom lie had ever hated with the rancour which is the 
 distmctive mark of a low and uncultivated mind, the superior 
 position whicli his wealth had enabled liim to secure for his 
 own daughter ; and as he was, in fact, devoured with envj of 
 that mental acconi])lis]iment whicli he affected to despise, he 
 flattered liimseJf that Lillias would be unalde to cUsguise that 
 mortification wliicli, judging lier character by liis own, he fan- 
 cied she Avould feel. Far other Avere the feehngs which liad 
 prevented Genevieve from mentioning her engagement -n-ith
 
 LIIiLIAS DAVENANT. 17 
 
 the Viscount, perhaps she -was more than mdifferent to hiin, 
 full of grace and fascination thouph be was. 
 
 Povei-ty, that worst of human ills, sickness and. remorse alone 
 excepted^ -nas the only ill that Lillias had ever known ; none 
 other had spread its canker on her heart or mind; and thus for 
 a few minutes she lost the sense of her own soitows in won- 
 dciniig -nhat coidd be the grief that oppressed her wealthy 
 cousin; and, in ti-uth, there are very- few of the distresses of the 
 rich vihich woidd not be most effectually cured by six weeks ' 
 trial of those encountei'cd by the poor. 
 
 Lilhas was still wrapjjcd in reflections such as these, when 
 she was startled by a strange noise that proceeded from the 
 bed on which her father lay ; and on approaching with the 
 candle, she perceived his face frightfidl.y cUstorted, and dark 
 with convnlsiou. Thougli the surgeon had found Mr. Davenant 
 much worse than he had left him in the morning, and had even 
 intimated to Ldhas the possibihty of a fatal conclusion, he had 
 by no means imagined that the event would be so sudden. 
 
 " Upon the mind of the poor gu-1, then, the conviction that her 
 father was actually dj-ing darted vrith. electric force, and, con- 
 scious of her inability alone to sustain him in those fatal mo- 
 ments, and remembeiing also the sick nurse who was in attend- 
 ance on the Countess of Daylsford, she flew towards the cham- 
 ijcr door to caU for her assistance, when, even at the moment 
 that she laid her hand upon the lock, a han-owing shriek was 
 heard from the ui^per apartment. 
 
 Halfway up the stairs Lillias was encountered by some 
 ])erson, who was descending so rapidlj', that she was hurled 
 backwards, and her head coming in contact with the banister, 
 she lay for a few minutes senseless. 
 
 From this condition she was ai-oused by the voice of Ahce, 
 who was crouched upon the floor in her nightgown, and sup- 
 jiorting her sister's head upon her knees. The poor child wa.s 
 y\'eeping ; her hands were deadly cold, and she shook from head 
 to foot with grief and tciTor. She spoke in broken incoherent 
 sentences — 
 
 " Dear Lilhas, who was it cried so loud? — the noise wakened 
 me. A man has two. out with crape upon his face ; the lady's 
 servants have gone after him. And oh, Ldhas, pray get up : 
 come and look at papa!" 
 
 The two poor young sisters were left all alone in their trouble ; 
 rapid feet were heard in the upper apartment, where Lord 
 Langley, his sister, and the nurse, were occupied about the 
 Countess ; a sickly hght streamed thi'ough the open door of 
 Mr. Davenant's chamber. Lillias summoned up her courage, 
 and taking her sister by the hand, returned to her father's 
 room. There was no need to hold the candle near the bed, — the 
 
 c
 
 IS LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 clenclied liancls, tlie plazcd eyes, tlie rigid featm^es, told tlieir 
 tale at a glance. 
 
 The sobs and cries of jioor Alice soon brought the nurse to 
 tlve assistance of herself and her unhai)py sister. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Tlie best of men have ever loved repose: 
 They liate to miiisle in the pithy fray, 
 AVliore the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows, 
 Kmbittered more, from peevish day to day." 
 
 Castle of Indolence. 
 
 The -o'eary night, with its accumulation of grief and horror, 
 was at length past, and towards morning the poor Lillias had 
 dropped mto a short slumljer, with her arms about her sister, 
 who. worn out with weeping, had sunk into a profound sleep. 
 When the nurse had, with the assistance of Lady Daylsford's 
 coachman, performed the last sad offices for the dead, she in- 
 sisted that the two desolate girls sliould retire to a temporary 
 bed whicli she prepared in the little parlour of the cottage. 
 Neither Lillias nor the child, however, could resolve to undress, 
 and the faint grey light of the chill-betoken morning was 
 already stealing into the apartment ere Ldlias foimd a brief 
 respite from her sorroM's in sleeii. 
 
 Meanwhile Lord Langley and his sister sat side by side in 
 their mother's chamber, conversing in ■nhispers, while the 
 nurse was absent from the room ])reparing some tea, and the 
 two orphan girls were stdl sleeimig. In very low and cautious 
 whispers did Lady Emily relate to her brother the circumstance 
 Avhich she concluded had been the cause of that cry -wliich had 
 sunnnoned Lillias from the bedside other dying father. 
 
 In coniijhance Avith the entreaties of the nurse, and the i^er- 
 mission of her selfish mother. Lady Emily, who was much 
 fatigued by the excitement of the past day, had laid down to 
 rest on the little bed -^Ahich was usually occupied by Alice 
 Davenant, and wliich stood in one corner of the room. The 
 Countess sh^pt to all appearance calmly, and the nurse liaving 
 ensconced Ik rsclf by the side of the sick-bed, Lady Emily had, 
 as she told iier brother, herself gone quietly to sleep : fi'om this 
 sleep she was awakened suddenly, and glancing round, per- 
 ceived to her consternation, by the dim liglit of a chamber 
 lamp, a tall man standing near lier mother's bed ; the Countess, 
 supi)orlcd on her elbow, gazing at him, as it seemed, in astu])or 
 of hoiTor, and the sick nurse slee})ing in her chair beside the 
 bed. Prescmtly the man stooped doAvn, and apparently whis- 
 pered to the Coimtess ; but whatever might have Ijeen his 
 communication, it was tliat doubtless which was the cause of 
 the harrowing shriek ^vliich Lady Daylsford uttered, and which
 
 IILIIAS DATENANT. 19 
 
 vras folloTTcd by a liittor malediction from the stranpjer as ho 
 rushed from the eliamber ; \\ hilc the nurse and Lady Emily 
 started up in terror, and found the Countess faUen into a 
 swoon. The darkness of the night, and his better knowledge 
 of the valley, doubtless aided the escape of this man, as he was 
 pursued in vain by the coachman, who was roused by the noise, 
 and informed ):)y Ahce Davenant that a strange man had just 
 run from the house. 
 
 The violent agitation which the Countess exliibited when, on 
 recovering from her swoon, she ■nas questioned by her son and 
 daughter as to Mdiat had been said to her by the strange in- 
 truder into her chamber, made them forbear to jiress their 
 inquiries, while the awful event of Mr. Davenant's death coming 
 to the knowledge of the Countess, amid the confusion that filled 
 the house, threw her mto new transports of selfish terror. 
 Meanwliile, the shght bustle consequent on the nurse preparing 
 breakfast, sufficed to rouse the poor Lilhas from the slumber 
 into which she had fallen. 
 
 Alas, for the misery of first awaking on the day which follows 
 the decease of some beloved relation ! LUlias started up, and 
 passed her hand to her aching brow in a temporary hew ilder- 
 ment : then the fearfid event of the night darted on her memory 
 with the rapidity of the lightning's flash, — her last parent was 
 gone, — she and her darling Alice were doubl.y orphans ; not a 
 friend not a relation in the world to whom she could turn with 
 a really trusting heart for consolation or advice. Lillias could 
 not weep, she had exhausted herself with weeping the night 
 before ; but the horrors of her friendless, hopeless state, pressed 
 upon her brain M'itli such a cruel force, that she felt for a few 
 moments as if reason itself would abandon her. 
 
 It is good for us, however, that the common necessities of 
 life call upon lis under all events for exertion ; it is the mind, 
 to wliich circumstances still leave leisure to brood over misfor- 
 tvmes, that sinks imder its pressure. The noise of the nurse 
 hurryuig to and fro, the disordered state of the pai-lour, in 
 wliich a bed had been hastily laid down, remmded Lillias of 
 the necessity' for exertion. 
 
 Oh, the cruel task that s^^ch exertion seems ! Yet in fact the 
 very trifling occupation of putting her dress and the little 
 parlour in order, and ]>reparing breakfast for herself and Alice, 
 briefly reheved the mind of Lillias from its weight of crusliing 
 thought. The last painful but necessary duties likewise were 
 to be attended to ; and Lilhas, so soon as she had drmik tlie 
 single cup of tea, which was the only refreshment she would 
 swallow, sat down to write a note to the principal upholsterer 
 
 of the town of A , and who had conducted the funeral of 
 
 her mother. Lord Laugley, who had, in a few well-chosen 
 words, expressed his sympathy with Lilhas, for the melancholy 
 
 c2
 
 20 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 event of tlie past niglit, liaci also proffered tlie services of tlie 
 coachman to convey any message from Miss Davenant to the 
 tradespeople, or her friends at A . 
 
 Poor Lillias, it was at least an additional pang spared, that 
 on this loss of her last parent, she was not, as on the event of 
 lier mother's death, cruelly pressed for the means to purchase 
 that outward garh of sorrow, whicli did but so faintly typify 
 tlie anguish of her heart. Yet, as Lillias penned her note to 
 the drainer, and keeper of the nioiirntng warehouse in the town 
 
 of A , a thought certainly darted into her mind, despite of 
 
 all her trouble, that this custom of wearing black for a deceased 
 relation was a very Avretched one, and in manifold cases was 
 the source of extreme sufferiag to those left behind, who must 
 keep up an appearance of resijectabUity in the world's eye, 
 whatever the home suffering that appearance costs. 
 
 " Surely!" thought LUlias, " I did not shed a tear the less 
 for my dear mamma, because I coidd not have crape flounces on 
 my gown, nor would my grief for dear pai)a be less, though 
 Alice and I were forced to wear our last winter's dress of green 
 stuff"!" 
 
 Meanwhile, anxious on account of the real iUness of Mr. 
 Davenant, and ax)i3rehensive that the fretful temper of Lady 
 Daylsford might convert a slight aihnent into a very serious 
 one, Mr. Hanway visited the cottage at a very early hour. 
 The closed curtains informed him of the mournful event of the 
 night, and the mdignation of the Countess was roused by the 
 delay of the surgeon in the attem]3t to comfort the young 
 orplians, ere he visited her apartment. 
 
 To the inquiries made by her son and daughter, as to her 
 o])inion of the strange mtruder of the j)recedlng night. Lady 
 Daylsford had condescended to give but very short and evasive 
 re])lieR ; and though when it was remarked by Lady EmUy that 
 an antique and valuable ornament which the Countess had 
 always been in the habit of wearing suspended to her neck- 
 cliain, had disappeared, Lady Daylsford, though her cheeks, 
 j)ale with illness, flixshed at the remark of her daughter to a 
 deeper tint than an,y which the best Paris rouge she ever wore 
 could have bestowed, contented herself with remarking that 
 she supposed it must have been taken by the man Avho had 
 broken into the chamber. 
 
 In tlie midst of her grief for the loss of her father, LiUias 
 liad neglected to inform Mr. Hanw ay of that \nsitant who had 
 entered the house durhig the night, and consequently, on finding 
 Lady Daj'lsford much worse than he had left her on tlie pre- 
 ceding night, the surgeon at once assumed that this condition 
 was the result of her impatient and exacting humom-, and very 
 bhuitly told her that she must ex])ect to be confined to her bed 
 for aix weeks at lea«t, if she persisted in siving way to her
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 21 
 
 fantastical wliims. This aunoimcement produced a flood of 
 tears from the Countess, the effect of pure anger and vexation, 
 wliicli, as he pretty well divined their source, did not in the 
 least soften the obdiunite heart of the surgeon ; while Lady 
 Emily, whose gentle temper made her tolerant of her mother's 
 follies, proceeded to relate the adventure of the masked 
 robber. 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Hanway, " I confess that if house- 
 breakers have been here, it was enough to produce an efiect 
 u])on nerves stronger than those which your ladyship can boast 
 of; but it seems this robber has not phmdered you to a ruinous 
 extent ; and, in truth, madam, it well behoves aU of us in this 
 world to think but lightly of oiu' small troubles, when we com- 
 ]3are them ^•ith svich great ones, for instance, as that which 
 afflicts my poor young friend, Miss Davenant, at the present 
 moment." 
 
 " Ah !" said the Countess, "you allude, sir, no doubt, to the 
 death of Mr. Davenant. Truly, that is about the most un- 
 l)leasaut affair it has ever been my ill fortune to eucoimter. " 
 
 "Unpleasant, madam !" exclauned Mr. Hanway. "By my 
 faith, I think it must be caUed something worse than un- 
 l)leasant!" 
 
 " WeU, reaUy," repUed Lady Daylsford, " supposing you to 
 be a personal friend of these poor peoi)le, I hesitated to use 
 words justly expressive of my feehngs ; but undoubtedly it is, 
 as you say, something worse than unpleasant ; it is positively 
 frightfid, to think that this man should have died on just the 
 very night that I was obhged to take shelter in his house ; to 
 be so near a corpse, a dead j)erson, it is awful, it puts such 
 di-eadful ideas in one's mind, I am certain it will make me 
 seriously iU !" 
 
 " Yoiu* ladyship is asftioyed by the neighbourhood of death !" 
 answered Mr. Hanway, who was greatly disgusted by the 
 avowed selfishness of his ]3atieut. " The best cure for such un- 
 pleasant feehngs, woidd be in compassionating the forlorn con- 
 dition of the poor orphan children." 
 
 " Really, sir!" responded the Coimtess, "I woidd not in the 
 IJresent state of my nerves undergo the excitement of reflecting 
 upon troubles, which it is qidte out of my power to ameliorate. 
 I supi)ose these young persons can encoimter the world as well 
 as others of their class : they should be taught to do so from 
 theii' earliest childhood — they are born to it, and u^ed to it, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Doubtless, madam ! as eels are used to skinning!" replied 
 the surgeon, whose pohteness was fast giving way to his anger ; 
 *' and if it is proper that yoimg girls, almost childi-en, shoidd 
 encounter the brutaUty of the world with patience, as a thing 
 they were born to, it is no less advisable for persons even of
 
 22 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 your ladyship's exalted station, to recoUect that tliey also are 
 born to die as weU as other peo]5le." 
 
 *' I could not live, sir, if I were continually thinking about 
 death !" said the Countess, whose affectation was for once over- 
 come by do\Aairight anger. " I do think it was a frightful busi- 
 ness that a wretched man, of whom I know nothing, shoidd 
 liave chosen to die just as I set my foot in the house, and I will 
 1)0 taken out of it to-day, sir, whatever may be the conse- 
 quence." 
 
 " The consequence, madam," said the surgeon, with great 
 coolness, " woukl certaudy be a violent inflammation, which 
 might create I know not what more evil effects. I shoidd 
 fancy now, from my slight knowledge of .yoiu' ladyship, that 
 you would not at aU like wearing a cork leg ?" 
 
 The Countess absolutely shrieked with indignation. " Your 
 language, sir, is infamous, abominable !" she gasped, in the 
 midst of a passion of hysterical tears. 
 
 " Madam!" said the surgeon, sternly, "I am not used to 
 jesting ; and if you will not consent to remam in ,your bed, and 
 endeavour to keep yourself qiuet, you wdl have a fit of illness 
 that may cost you your life ; and on my part at any rate I wdl 
 ]iot be made answerable for your fantastical whims, and if you 
 do not foUow my du'ections I wiU not visit you again. Over- 
 come this foolish terror of death, madam. Suppose your neck 
 had been dislocated instead of youi' foot, then you would have 
 })een dead. Thank Heaven, then, that the accident you met 
 A\itli was after aU so shght, and keep your mind quiet that it 
 may not retard your recovery." With these words and a few 
 further medical directions, Mr. Hanway ^A-itlidreM*, leaving the 
 Countess overwhelmed with anger and mortification, and Lady 
 EmUy, who had been present throughout the conversation, by 
 no means sorry that her mother's folly had met A^ith so severe 
 a rebuke. 
 
 Meauwliile it was not till the third day after her accident 
 lliat the physician, who had been simimoned from London by 
 the desire of the Countess, gave it as his opinion that she 
 miglit bear the removal to Beecligrove, an event which was 
 very \\elcome to LilHas, who wished to be alone with her 
 grief, and wliose ])()()r little dwelling had been made a scene 
 of luibearable confusion by the airs of Lady Daylsford's maid, 
 \\ ho had been summoned from Beechgrove on the first day 
 of the accident. 
 
 An ostentatious letter from Sir Gabriel MiUman had been 
 Hie reply to the announcement made by Lillias of the melan- 
 choly event of her father's death. In this epistle Sir Gabi-iel 
 ])retty plamly intimated his o]nnion that the decease of Mr. 
 L)avenant was rather a fortunate circumstance ; and strictly 
 enjoined his nicccj as she valued the rcspectabihty of his
 
 lilLLIAS DAVENANT. 23 
 
 house, to provide botli herself and Ahec with elegant 
 mourning. " I tkudc," added Sir Gabriel to this portion of 
 his letter, "that it is, in the general way, a very absurd prac- 
 tice for poor people to think of wearing mournmg ; but as 
 you are to come to my house, and must also, I suppose, for 
 a httle while, brmg yoiu* sister ^^■ith you, and it can hardly 
 be concealed tliat yoiu* father is just dead, I should notelioose, 
 nor woidd Lady Millman, that my nieces should be otherwise 
 than respectably attired." 
 
 Tliis letter of Sir Gabriel's was, like the former, accompa- 
 nied by one from Genevieve, whose tenderness and sympathy 
 were as violent as her father's brutality and ostentation. It 
 was on tlie day a])pointed for Mr. Davcnant's funeral that 
 LiUias was sitting alone with her sister in the parlom- of 
 the cottage ; by the advice of Mr. Hanway she had retained 
 the services of the nurse who had attended Lady Daylsford, 
 for it wovild have been too terrible to have been left alone 
 with Alice in the abode of death. 
 
 Mr. Hanway and his ttife had driven over in the afternoon, 
 and had invited the oi-phans to spend a few weeks with theni ; 
 but AA'hen Ldhas showed the letter containing Sir Gabriel's 
 command that she should proceed to London mimediately 
 after her father's funeral, the surgeon, who was sufficiently 
 experienced in the affahs of the world, reachly at once per- 
 ceived the overbearing and ostentatious character of the 
 citizen ; yet fully aware of how much importance, even with 
 such cbawbacks, his protection might be to the desolate ghls, 
 honestly advised LUlias to submit to the directions of her 
 uncle. " You can come and see Mrs. Hanway at another 
 time," he added. " Your vincle may be perhaps offended if 
 you do not strictly obey hmi." 
 
 To a friend so sincere as she had ever found Mr. Hanway, 
 LiUias made no scmi^le of avowing lier ill impressions of iSir 
 Gabriel, which were, she said, founded not only on her 
 observation of the ungracious tone of his letters, but also on 
 the experience of both her parents. 
 
 " My dear LiUias," then gravelj^ remai-ked Mr. Hanway, 
 " I shaU speak to you not as to a young girl whoUy, and, I 
 may add, most happily, imconscious with how hard a world 
 the poor and friencUess have to deal, but as to a woman with 
 natural good sense, and with ah'eady some ahaiijly-acquii'ed 
 experience. Yom- remarks, and the terms of his letters, all 
 agi'ee with what I have heard in London of Sir Gabi'iel 
 MUhnan, whose character is that of a grasping ostentatious 
 money -jobber. Still this sort of people occasiouaUy do kind 
 things, when they are in a good humoiu" from some gTcat 
 gam ; and, as you and Ahce have imfortunately no other 
 relation, I shoidd rccommcud you to tolerate patiently a httle
 
 24i LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 of your xxncle's pride of purse, if lie offers you the solid 
 advantage of a residence beneath his roof. And at all events," 
 concluded Mr. Han^ray, with a smile, "if this citizen and his 
 wealth become quite unbearable, and you are ever in want 
 of a home, do not forget your friends in Derby.shire." 
 
 This kind and generous offer of the surgeon, which was 
 backed by his ^vife, was not received ^vithout tears of grati- 
 tude from LOlias; for, from benefits already received, she 
 knew that the proffer was not a mere empty j)lirase. 
 
 The truth was, that as Mr. Hanway and his wife had no 
 family of their own, they woiild at once have insisted upon the 
 orphans taking up their abode with them; but that Mr. 
 Hanway knew that the wealth of Sir Gabriel had forced an 
 entrance for him into ranks of corresponding riches and very 
 superior rank, and both he and Ids A^nie thought it woidd not 
 be just to deprive the two girls of the possible chances of 
 appearing in such circles for those of mixing with the persons 
 of iuferior station, who made up the number of their own 
 acquaiatance. 
 
 The heart of LUlias, however, rebelled agaiust this advice, 
 while her reason acknowledged its justice; and, after the 
 dcpartm'e of Mr. and Mrs. Han^^'ay, she sat abstractedly 
 watching the flames leaj) and play about a huge lumj) of 
 Derbj'shire coal in the fireplace, whUe Alice alone pursued 
 their joint task of i)reparing mourning cuffs and collars of 
 white muslin. 
 
 From this reverie LiUias was finally aroused by the sound 
 of horses' hoofs on the gravelled path before the cottage, 
 presently followed by a taj), ai)parently from the handle of 
 the whip. 
 
 Knowing the nurse to be asleep in the kitchen, Lilhas 
 lierself answered this summons, and even amid the grey 
 obscurity of the winter morning she recognised Lord Laugley 
 in the horseman who was so unexpected a visitant. 
 
 The young nobleman was ^^•ithout an attendant, and hastily 
 fastening the bridle of his horse to the treUised porch of the 
 cottage, he commenced an ai:)olf)gy for his intrusion by saymg, 
 that he was the bearer of a note from his sister, Lady Emilj^ 
 to Miss Davenant. 
 
 Little Ahce, hearing Lord Langley's voice, came running 
 from the parlour Avith a fight step, and somewliat increased 
 the confusion of her sister by inquiring wliy she did not ask 
 him into the house instead of standing there talking in the 
 cold. The truth was that the heart of the httle girl had been 
 quite won by the kindness with ■nliich Lord Langle.y had 
 endeavoured to console her under the gi'eat gi-ief of the loss 
 of her father. 
 
 Behold the trio then seated by the blazing fire in the par-
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 25 
 
 loiir. The sweet eyes of Lillias filled ■with, tears as she 
 perused the kind note of Lady i^ily, in which, couched in 
 terms of the tenderest sjTnijathy, was an invitation for the 
 sisters to pass a few days, after the funeral of their father, at 
 BeechgTOve. A few days, thought LOIias ; well, then. Sir 
 Gabriel would not expect her in London for a fortnight at 
 least, as there were many httle mattei's for her to settle before 
 she left St. Maiy's Vale ; and upon the strength of this neces- 
 sity she had already promised two or three days to Mrs. 
 Hanway. Alice, too, the darling Ahce, who had done nothing 
 but weep and pme since her father's death, smiled as she read 
 Lady Emdy's invitation, and besought her sister not to refuse 
 it. In the course of her entreaties she mentioned the name 
 of Sir Gabriel, and had not the eyes of both LiUias and her 
 sister been still bent upon Lady Emily's note, they mvist have 
 noticed the slight start of Lord Langley, and the dark colour 
 mounting to his brow, when he learned that the uncle of tlie 
 orphans was no other than the father of his intended bride. 
 He did not, howevei', make any remark ; and, accepting the 
 invitation of the sisters to partake of their tea, he was pre- 
 sently' left alone with Lilhas, while Alice went to assist the 
 nurse in preparing it. 
 
 Lord Langley was eminently a gentleman, and, to the 
 attractions of his remarkably handsome j)erson, was miited 
 a voice the fidl rich tones of wliich he knew how to modidate 
 but too well to express sensibilities which, alas ! had long 
 ago withered from his heart under the bhghting influence of 
 as wild a career as was ever run by a wealthy and unthinking 
 youth. 
 
 How httle do poor mortals know of themselves — how "averse 
 are they to examine the motives under which they jaeld to the 
 jiromptings of passion ! Assuredly Lord Langley had no de- 
 liberate intention of breaking the faith which he had already 
 pledged to the cousin of LiUias Davenant, and still less cUd he 
 coolly contemplate leading the friendless and innocent girl into 
 the meshes of a love which would, under the pecuhar cu'cvmi- 
 stances of both parties, be productive only of miseiy. He fairly 
 beheved himself incapable of such baseness, andwoidd i^ossibly 
 have m-ged the verj" superior personal beauty of Genevie\'e 
 Millman, as a reason why he woidd not be led from his 
 allegiance by the lesser charms of her cousin : yet, in tiiith, the 
 pale intellectual countenance of LiUias, the dreamy yet soitow- 
 fid exj)ression of her large dark eyes, the subdued music of her 
 voice, had made an impression upon his hitherto volatile imagi- 
 nation, beyond any that had been effected by the perfect 
 features and untouched bloom of Genevieve. The very gentle- 
 ness, too, of the citizen's daughter mvested her -nith a kuid of 
 insipidity in the eyes of Lord Langley, and more than once
 
 26 LILLIAS DAVEXANT. 
 
 dunug the slight eonversatious ^^ liicli lie had w'ith LilHas, he 
 had caught himself comparing, v^ith. a sigh, her mind and man- 
 ners, with those of the timid and, it must be added, unin- 
 structed GeneAdeve : for such indeed she appeared ; unable from 
 her retiring nature to exhibit those sho^iry accomphsliments 
 ■\vliicli, to the exclusion of aU mental acqiusition, had been 
 taught at the fasliionable boarding school, Avhere she had been 
 placed by Sir Gabriel. 
 
 And if Lord Langley stood thus unconsciously on the 
 brink of a precipice, coidd it be supposed that Liliias, inex- 
 perienced in all save the hardest, coldest miseries of life, should 
 be more sensible of her position. The remains of her beloved 
 father were not yet liidden in the cold dark grave ; and it was 
 of him, his wasted life, his rare acquirements, bmied hke some 
 jewel in the dreary mine, that she spoke to Lord Langley ; with 
 each moment imconsciously revealing the treasures of her own 
 noble heart, the delicate refinement of her taste, and the energy 
 and grasp of mind, not often exliibited bj- woman. How could 
 she think there was danger in the ])leasui'e she felt as the dark 
 eyes of Lord Langlej^ seemed reading into hers, as he himg en- 
 chanted on each word she uttered, or when he painted in terms 
 A-ivid as any she would herself have chosen, the delights of such 
 a life of elegant and wealthy leisure, as she had so often 
 imagined as the summit of earthly bliss. 
 
 The tea had been long dismissed, and was succeeded by a 
 tray, loaded, it must be confessed, with delicacies, sent to the 
 cottage by the kind Lady Emily, and which Lilhas had we-pt 
 on receiving, as she thought how they might perhaps, the week 
 before, have tempted the failing appetite of her father. The 
 appearance of the tray, however, which the old nurse, more dis- 
 creet than the young maiden, purposely and imordered brought 
 into the parlour, had tlie effect of admonishing Lord Langley 
 of the length of his visit, nnd he rose in some haste to depart. 
 
 The old woman had withdrawn so soon as she had laid down 
 the tray, and Alice, fast asleep on the sofa, had been, for the 
 last half-hour, unconsciovis of the conversation ; nor Avas she 
 awakened either by the entrance or departure of the nurse. 
 Still Lord Langley delayed, and the hand of Lilhas was held 
 with earnest grasp in his. Then, for the first time, the eyes of the 
 voun;^ girl fell, and burning blushes mantled on her cheek. 
 vVords, wliich the thought, not of Genevieve, but of the scarce 
 cold ashes of Mr. Davenant alone half restrained, were trem- 
 blii'g on Lord Langley's hp, AA'hen, as Liliias avertmg her ej'es 
 from his, turned them towards a window, over ^^iiich the cur- 
 tains had not yet been draun, she beheld the tall figiu'e of a 
 man iiit ])ast it, and the next moment a stone, or some other 
 liard suljstance, came crashiug through the glass, and fell at 
 her feet.
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 27 
 
 Lord Lanpjley littered a loud exclamation of anger, and was 
 about to rush from the room, when his steps Avere arrested by 
 Lillias, who was unroUiug a piece of writing-paper in which the 
 stone, for such it was, had been wrapped. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, my lord ; I know from whom this 
 comes," said Lillias, letting the i)aper fall and sinking back in 
 her chair, v^-ith lips and cheeks so pale, that the young noble- 
 man and Alice, whom the noise had awakened, thought she 
 was about to faint. AAliile Alice called for the nurse, and 
 brought water for her sister to diink. Lord Langley examined 
 the mysterious missive : it bore, rudely sketched, the figm-e of 
 a hawk, beneath which was written, in a bold hand, the single 
 word " Beware !" 
 
 Both Alice and the mirse seemed alarmed at the necessity 
 of passing a night in the house, without male protection, after 
 this strange occui'rence ; but Lillias assured them there was no 
 danger, with an air of certainty that was not quite accountable 
 or satisfactoiy to Lord Langley, who, however, searched the 
 garden and house before he took his departure, without fiuding 
 any person concealed. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 " Gratiano. — Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
 Skylock. — No; none that thou hast wit enough to make." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 In a mean apartment of a lodging-house, situated in one of the 
 dismal streets that diverge from Red Lion Square, sat, on the 
 evening of Lord Langley's interview mth Lillias, a woman, 
 whose coimtenance, in sijite of her somewhat advanced years, 
 and still more, the traces of deep sorrow, still preserved the 
 remains of extraordinary beauty. Extreme poverty, and the 
 neatness wliich, even mider the most cruel circumstances, 
 characterizes a lady, were ahke visible in her apparel : her 
 faded black silk gown had been carefully darned and even 
 patched m various places ; her black hair, thickly striped \\ith 
 grey, was laid smooth imder a cap of muslin as white as it could 
 be made after frequent Avashes and exijosiu'c to the smoky 
 atmosphere of London, and her collar and apron of the same 
 material, were vsithout a crease or a speck. 
 
 The same endeavour to keep an apijearance of comfort, and 
 the privations of want, was visible in the room in AA'hich the 
 lady aat, as in her own dress. The worn and faded Kidder- 
 minster carpet had no spots of grease or dust, the hearth was 
 clean swept, and the very small fire which ■nas burning in the 
 grate carefully raked together. The night was, in London, the 
 most unjileasant that Londoners can experience ; for not only 
 did the rain pour down in torrents, converting the streets into
 
 28 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 sluices of mud and water, but the wind was liigli and bitterly 
 cold, and making its way through the curtains of dingy red 
 moreen which hmig over the windows, a much larger fire than 
 that Avhich burned dull in the large gi*ate was really necessary. 
 The lady was an invalid, and as the piercing blast howled round 
 the corner of the street, she took a dark woollen shawl from a 
 sofa and wrapped it roimd her shoulders. That sofa was covered 
 with moreen of the same colour as the curtains, and performed 
 the double duty of a sofa by day and a bed by night ; half-a- 
 dozen cane-seated chairs, a couple of tables, and an old- 
 fashioned beaufet of mahogany, black with age, constituted, 
 with the before-named sofa, the chief furnitiu-e of the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The lady approached the windows, against which the furious 
 gale at that moment dashed a sheet of rain and haU, and draw- 
 ing back the curtains, she looked uj)on the wet and cheerless 
 street. 
 
 A gas lamp threw a ray of hght over the scene, chscovering 
 the toppling forms of the opi)osite houses, the fronts of which 
 ■were black with age and smoke, wlule the rain streamed from 
 the pipes and gutters with the hue of ink, and almost the con- 
 sistency of paste. 
 
 The opposite houses, like that of which the poor lady was an 
 inhabitant, were let out in lodgmgs, and the various apartments 
 ^vere occupied by mechanics, the inferior class of clerks, or the 
 hangers on in the lower departments of theatres, such as chorus 
 singers, dancers, and the humblestmembers of the dramatic corps. 
 
 I)\iring the weary hom's of an illness which confined her to 
 the house, though not always to her bed, Mrs. Vere (for such 
 was the name of the invalid lady) had sometknes foimd amuse- 
 ment in nothig the peculiar habits and appearance of her neigh- 
 bours. Among these she had been most interested by the family 
 of a mechanic who occupied the first floor of the house du'ectly 
 opposite to that hi which she lodged. 
 
 The man, who might perhaps have been somewhat above fifty 
 years of age, had that bidky yet sinewy frame M'hich is so com- 
 mon among that class of mechanics whose emplo.^Tuent both re- 
 (juires and dcvelopes great bocUly strength; and from his fustian 
 jacket, and the begrimed state of his face and hands when he 
 reached his home of an evening, Mrs. Vere concluded that he 
 worked in the em])loy of some great engineer. The wife of this 
 man was tlie very antipodes of himself, being a dehcate, and 
 rather sickly looking woman, and the mother of eight children, 
 Avhosc well fed and well clad aspect, however, seemed to imply 
 that their fatlier earned good wages. The eldest of this family 
 ^vas a girl, ratlicr ]iretty, and as delicate in api)earance as her 
 mother; and this girl Mrs. Vere imagmed, from the neatness of 
 her appearance and occasional visits to her parents, liad been
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 29 
 
 apprenticed to a millmcr: Leryoiitliaiid delicate frame seeming 
 to forbid the supposition tliat slie was already a domestic servant. 
 As Mrs. Vere now stood looking mournfully out into the 
 dreary street, she saw the mechanic plodding along at his usu.al 
 heavy pace ; he was somewhat later home than usual, and Mrs. 
 Vere saw the light suddenly disappear from the front room of 
 the opposite house, as his well-known two heary^ knocks re- 
 sounded tlu-ough the street. The man glanced towards Mrs. 
 Vere's chamber after he had knocked, and recognising her at 
 the window, he bowed, or rather nodded ; for his children had 
 told him of the kind lady opposite, who had more . tlian once 
 given them an orange, or a cake. 
 
 Mrs. Vere returned the salutation, and then, as the door 
 opened and by the light of the candle ua her hand she recognised 
 the mechanic's eldest daughter, who received a kiss for her un- 
 expected appearance, the tears rose to the eyes of the solitary 
 lady, and tiu-ning from the window as the wind again came 
 roaring down the street, bearmg sleet and rain before it, she 
 murmured in a broken voice, " My poor, poor boy, what a night 
 for him to encoimter! — so thinly clad, too, and without the 
 means to procure even an omnibus or a cab." 
 
 Struggling to suppress tears which she was aware would but 
 increase the illness the exigencies of which she knew ill-suited 
 her exhausted purse, Mrs.Vere trimmed her httle fire, lighted a 
 candle, and sitting dowoi, endeavoured to compose herself with 
 the hope of happier days. 
 
 Not long, however, is it permitted to the poor and op])ressed 
 to beguile the cause of then- suiFeiiugs "«ath the illusions of hope. 
 The door of Mrs. Vere's room was suddenly burst open, without 
 even the in*evious ceremony of a knock, and a veritable specimen 
 of a hard-dealing London landlady boiuiced into the apartment. 
 Mrs. Jenkins was not, accorduig toriile, a big, fat, red-faced 
 woman; on the contrary', she was short and small, with a veiy 
 pale complexion, and a sliarp, spiteful gi*ey eye, which very 
 plainly bespoke her spirit of that Amazonian nature that might 
 amply supply the deficiencj- of her person. 
 
 Without the slightest apology for the mdeness of her intru- 
 sion, this woman flounced across the room, and plumped down 
 upon a chair opposite to Mrs. Vere : neither did she employ any 
 cu'cumlocution as to the subject of her visit, but spoke bluntly 
 to the pm-pose. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Vere," began this gentle specimen of the fair sex, 
 "I wants to know if I am to have any money to-night?" 
 
 "Madam," replied Mrs. Vere, who trembled for the scene 
 
 which she was about to encounter, "my son has gone to seek 
 
 for money, and if he obtains it, which I can scarcely doubt, you 
 
 shall be immediately paid." 
 
 " AJi, that won't do for me, ma'am," answered the landlady ;
 
 30 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 " promises and pie-crusts is made to be brolcen, as I knows to 
 my cost. I want nothing but wliat's riglit ; I want my money. 
 I can't go about to be charitable, and keep a roof over the heads 
 of decayed gentlefolks. I am sure my heart would be good to 
 do it, but I can't. I injures myself cause I don't like to be hard 
 upon people ; but my rent and taxes must be paid, and you owe 
 me nine weeks for two rooms. Certain, I don't know what you 
 and your son wanted with two rooms when you can't pay for one ; 
 but that was your pride. How I hates pi-idc ! But don't go for 
 to think that you are to keep up your pride out of me. I and 
 my husband are honest folks ; and if I hadn't been a soft-hearted 
 fool I should have sent you off bag and baggage ^long ago, but I 
 couldn't abcar to do it as you seemed ill : but that excuse won't 
 answer ito longer ; and if j'our son does not bring home some 
 money, out you troops to-moiTOw. So you recollect that, Mrs. 
 Vere. So one word is as good a thousand, and I wish you good 
 evening. I have always behaved respectable to you, and I hope 
 you'll behave respectable to me ; but I am very sorry to say I 
 very much doubts it." 
 
 The exceeding velocity with which the good woman Mrs. 
 Jenkins had spoken, did not allow Mrs. Vere to reply ; but as 
 she rose from her chair and bounced towards the door Mrs. 
 Vere, once more, entreated her to be patient, and she should be 
 faithfully paid. Upon which the virago turning back, with her 
 hand upon the lock, cried through her shut teeth, with a concen- 
 tration of spite, 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Mrs. Vere, .you was always too civil by 
 half; fine words butter no parsnips, and such folks as you is 
 not civil to the likes of me when you has got money in your 
 pockets, so don't let me have any more of your palaver!" 
 
 With these words the landlady banged the door with such 
 violence that the casements rattled, and then proceeded down 
 stairs, while Mrs. Vere, whose delicate health ill fitted her for 
 an encounter with such a fury, sunk back in her chair and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 Another kind of scene was passing in the house of Sir Gabriel 
 Millman, whither, with a strong claim but a scanty hope of as- 
 sistance, Eustace Vere had re])aired. 
 
 The rise of Sir Gabriel's fortunes had been accurately marked 
 by the ])rogressive improvements in his style of living. 
 
 ^Micn his sister Alice, afterwards the wife of Mr. Davenant, 
 was ijursiiing, twenty-three years before, the arduous profession 
 of a governess, Gabriel Milhnan, who was then a clerk at 
 seventy pounds a year, was thankful to accept ciuarterly instal- 
 ments of his sister's salary', to aid him in the task of supporting 
 the beautiful girl whom, witli singular imprudence for so pru- 
 dent a man, he had married v\ ithout any portion. This marriage 
 was, according to Sir Gabriel's OM'n accoimt, the single act of
 
 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 31 
 
 folly that had marked liis career. He had sown his wild oats 
 in that, and i^robalily it was with a design of showing a 
 repentant sense of his o\^'n weakness, that after the first few 
 months of their marriage he so systematically ill-used liis 
 wife that slie died when Genevieve was three months old, 
 and her husband's sister Aiice had been a few weeks the bride 
 of Mr. Davenant. Mr. Millman, as he then was, made no 
 use of arsenic, hydrocyanic acid, or any other subtle poison ; 
 and yet he so assuredly killed his wife, that it is possible an 
 occasional ctualm of even his obtuse conscience might have 
 originated his extravagant fondness for his daughter. " Expe- 
 rience makes fools ^^-ise," said Mr. Millman, when, six months 
 after the death of his wife, he led to the altar the heu'ess of 
 a pawnbroker : he had done with marrying for love. But to 
 return to the fashion of his hving : during liis first marriage, 
 Mr. Millman was content with a cottage in the neighbourhood 
 of Hackney, which, rent and taxes together, did not cost more 
 than twenty pounds a year; the fortune of his second wife 
 lifted liim into a flashy gingerbread kind of villa in the Brixton- 
 road, the walls of wliich having been washed over of a reddish- 
 brown colour, m unitation of, the gods alone knew what kind 
 of stone, had been bv a wit of the vicinitj-, facetiously denomi- 
 nated "Bhubarb Hall." 
 
 A few years after this, Mr. Millman 's employer failed ; nor 
 was his favourite clerk, as some ill-natured persons asserted, 
 altogether innocent of the poor merchant's ill fortunes. 
 
 However that might be, the merchant soon after died of a 
 broken heart, and Mr. Millman figured before the world as 
 a merchant too, with those " who, by the courtesy, would call 
 him so." 
 
 Then did his ambition take a new flight, and he sported a 
 house in Bedford-square, and a carnage witli hack horses, 
 which were soon changed for a handsome pair of his own ; and 
 while Sir Gabriel, as he was by that time dubbed, dealt in 
 stocks, English and foreign, raih'oad shai^es, mining companies, 
 and all other sorts of money jobbing, various wealthy and 
 respectable men. who had dealt with him, were irretrievably 
 ruined ; but his fortunes continuing to rise, he occupied at the 
 tune of his brother-in-law's death, a noble mansion in Portman- 
 square, with a country house in Wiltshire, and servants, car- 
 riages, and houses, to match. 
 
 Sir Gabriel was suihciently shrewd in his \^ay, and he pre- 
 fen-ed Portman-square to any of the new ones, mostly inha- 
 bited by upstarts hke liimself and thought the didl old squares 
 had an air of more importance than their gay rivals. 
 
 On the night that poor Mrs. A^ere •nas so cruelly insidted 
 for the price of her mean and dismal lodging, a small party 
 was assembled in the draAving-rooms of Sir Gabriel's mansion :
 
 32 LILLTAS DATENANT. 
 
 tliey were not coin]50sed of the most select of society, with the 
 single exception of a pale, slender, and aristocratic looking 
 young man, who conversed with Genevieve at the entrance of a 
 superb conservatoiy . The season was too late for the favourites 
 of fashion to assemble now at the call of wealth ; for having, 
 according to their custom, wasted the hoiu-s of the green 
 spring, and glowing summer, in the diisty streets and crowded 
 theatres of London, they were now luxuriating on the autumn 
 fogs, which rolled about their countiy -houses. 
 
 So fond, too, are the upstarts of the middle classes of de- 
 gr-ading themselves by municing the foUies of the fashionable 
 world, that it was only a few veiy inveterate citizens, still 
 honest, and simple enough to be content with then- dwellings 
 at Norwood, or Clapton, that Sh Gabriel had been able to 
 draw together, for the witnessing of his great glories. 
 
 Glories of wealth that house certainly presented, and the 
 natui'al taste of Genevieve had rescued its appointments from 
 the entire of the upholsterer ; though there was yet an imdue 
 l)redominance of gilding. 
 
 By a singular fancy, the piiucipal di'awing-room was entirely 
 wainscoted with rnuTors, set m rich compartments of gold 
 framework, and dehcate porcelain, on which was figured birds 
 of the most gorgeous ])hunage, and flowers in their natural 
 colours. The ceiling of this room had been painted in com- 
 ])artments by an eminent artist, and the stucco work tliat bor- 
 dered the paintings was richly gilded. The frames of the 
 couches and chau's were of ivory and onnolu, and the cushions 
 and •ndndow curtains of pale blue satin richly fringed with 
 silver, and the fender and other appurtenances of the fire- 
 place, Avere of solid silver chased with gold. Inlaid tables, of 
 every form and kind, were scattered tlu-ough this and the ad- 
 joi]iing apartments, while china vases of immense value, were 
 Idled with such quantities of rare exotics, that the air of the 
 chamber was even faint with their perfume. 
 
 Tlie personal appearance of Sir Gabriel, and his famil.y, pre- 
 sented rather a singidar contrast to the elegance of their abode : 
 Lady IMillman, a short puffy woman, ^^ilb a famously red face, 
 was dressed in the most extravagant style of the fashion, and 
 ridiculously loaded with jewels, especially considering that she 
 was but receiving a quiet party in her own house : while the 
 ]i]ain white garb of Genevieve, her golden hair bound back 
 from her brow with a suigle white camellia, contrasted with the 
 gorgeous splendour of tlie apartment, no less than with the 
 vulgar display of her step-motlier. She had -withdrawn from 
 the glare of the drawing-room to her favourite retreat, the con- 
 8ervatorj% where the subdued light of the lamps, surroimded 
 by ground glass of a pale azure colom*, was yet more softened 
 by the clustering of the green leaves of the tall maguoha which
 
 tILIilAS DATENANT. 33 
 
 tliickly sprinkled Avitli white blossoms, twined its fantastic 
 wreaths over the whole roof of the conservatory. 
 
 Gene^^eve Millman was seated at the foot of one of the 
 slender pillars that supported the roof, a cape jasmine had 
 twisted its long tencb-ils round that pillar, till it united with 
 tlie magnoha on the roof, while other of its fragrant garland;? 
 showered down their wealth of blossoms over the head of 
 Crenevieve, whose right arm rested against a stand loaded with 
 the grey heliotrope and scarlet geraniimi, both in full bloom. 
 One of the visitors who filled the saloons had taken a peep 
 into the conservatory, and had afterwards inquired of Lady 
 Millman, if it was with Lord Langley that her step-daughter 
 was there engaged m conversation. The person who made this 
 inquirj- was a pr\*ing ill-natured woman, but the intellects of 
 Lady MObnan were not very acute, and hence she failed to 
 notice the sneer which curled Mrs. Freeman's hp, when she 
 was infonned that the companion of Genevieve was not the 
 viscoimt, but his brother, the Honourable Edward Langle.v. 
 Genevieve, too, wliile drinkuig the low rich tones of Edward 
 Langiej''s voice, forgot not only his brother, but her own father, 
 before whose verj- frown she was used to tremble. Yet Mr. 
 Langley had not an equal amoimt of personal attraction with 
 his brother; but the assured manners of the viscount, the 
 haughty glance of his dark eyes, the almost condescending air 
 which he assumed towards her, had repulsed the tiniid Gene- 
 * vieve, and the fear ^vith wliich she regarded libn was not allied 
 to that wliich every sensitive woman to a certain degi'ce is con- 
 scious of towards the man she loves. 
 
 The gentle melancholj', too, wliich pei-vaded the manners of 
 Edward Langley, was not without a chann for her. His was 
 by no means an enviable position, the child whom prunogeuitm-e 
 would not acknowledge, the x>enniless yomiger son of a noble 
 family, with the countless mortifications of childliood, even too 
 well remembered, when his brother was important little Lord 
 Langle}-, and he was only httle Master Edward, a creatiu-e of 
 no importance at all. 
 
 The nature of Edward Langley was sensitive, too. as well as 
 reflecting, and among the many annoyances to which his posi- 
 tion of younger brother, had subjected him, not the least, was 
 that of finding himself the Pariah of matclmiakiug mammas 
 and exi^ectant daughters, and not a httle soothing to his self- 
 love was the gentle attention of so fair a creatiu-e as Genevieve 
 Millman, though he often remembered with a sigh, that had 
 she not been ah'cady the betrothed of liis brother, perhaps she 
 even had been less gracious in her manner; but ever, when he 
 was again in her company, did he repudiate this unworthy 
 thought, and forgot his brother, and perhaps hunself. 
 
 Genevieve and Mr. Langley had been engaged a veiy earnest 
 
 D
 
 3ii tlLLIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 conversation, wlien a sliglit bustle in the large drawing-room 
 excited then" attention, and Genevieve, hearing the voice of her 
 father in a loud and seemingly angry tone, hastily left the con- 
 servatory. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " The world thinks, and I think so too, 
 That thou but leadst thi;t fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of art ; and then 'tis thought 
 Thou'it show tliy mercy and remorse, more strange. 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 CoKSiDERABLE disorder prevailed in the great drawing-room, 
 when Genevieve and Ed^vard Langley returned to it. The 
 guests of Sir Gabriel Millman were either di-awn apart from 
 their host in httle knots of two or three, conversing in earnest 
 whispers, or were gazing in what seemed a stupor of mingled 
 astonishment and cariosity at the knight and a youjig man, 
 whose noble presence, and high air of a gentleman, only per- 
 haps made the worn condition of liis black frock-coat the more 
 conspicuous. It appeared at once from the questionable nature 
 of his attire, which was also thorough!}' wet with rain, that this 
 person must have been shown into the drawing-room by some 
 mistake, though Edward Langley perceived at a glance that he 
 was so much the natural superior of Su' Gabriel, that, knowing 
 as he did the coarse and vulgar manners of the latter, he yet felt 
 some surprise at the furious insolence with which he demanded 
 of the stranger how he dared intrude himself among his frieiids, 
 or mto his house. The pale countenance of the yomig man 
 became a degree paler at the grossness of this insult, and con- 
 trasted almost painfully with the masses of rich raven liair 
 ■« liich fell in disorder over his forehead, and the flashing of a 
 pair of eyes, dark and piercing as those of the falcon. 
 
 " It was no wish of mine, Sir Gabriel ildhnan," said the 
 stranger, in a stem accent, " to intrude myself among the 
 wortlJcss parasites of wealth, whom you dignif>^ with the name 
 of friends, and who are indeed, I must confess, fit friends for 
 such a man as you are ; nor is your own society such as I would 
 seek, save under the pressure of a very hard necessity indeed. 
 I requested, sir, to sec you alone, for I will j'et do both you and 
 your friends the credit to believe thafit would be little agree- 
 able to you, did I declare my en-and in then- presence !" 
 
 " I am not to be browbeat, Mr. Eustace Yere— I am not to 
 be browbeat in my own house — understand that !" replied the 
 knight, m accents clioked by passion ; " and as to my friends — 
 M'ell, if yoiu* father lost a fortime, and I have earned one, they 
 will think no worse of me for that !" 
 
 " Oh, let us understand each other, sir," rephed Eustace Yere,
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 35 
 
 " and be assured tliat I am not labotirinp in delusion as to the 
 specific value of the honesty or honour of your friends ; 1 shall 
 not impeach yo\i in their presence for ad^-ising my father to 
 sell stock, in order that you might buy it,— that -svas a roguery 
 of trade which sits lightly, no doubt, on the conscience of a 
 trader. I have another errand here tliis evening : it must be plea- 
 sant for so prosperoiis and honoiu-able a man to look back and 
 contrast the huxuries of present years with the privations of the 
 past, of those times in which you owed such obligations to 
 Man on Grey!" 
 
 " Sir, sir !" said the knight, his countenance, which had been 
 so latel.y flushed with rage, changing to a ghastly whiteness, 
 and his loud insulting tones to a voice of almost servihty. 
 " Tliis is not well done, Mr. Eiistace Vere ; you come here, 
 because your father suffered the common mischances of trade, 
 and would rake up, it seems, all the little vexations of my life. 
 But there is no need of this, sir, even for the attainment of your 
 object ; my friends will pcrhaj^s spare me for a space ; we will 
 go mto the librarj', and I will see what can be done for you, 
 not out of justice, mind, but purely froni good-will towards the 
 son of an old and unfortunate friend !" 
 
 " "Tis well, sir !" answered Eustace Vere, as he turned to 
 follow Sir Gabriel, who was now proceeding towards the door, 
 "my purpose does not i^ermit me to cavil at a word, else the 
 gi'ound upon wliich you are to consider what in this instance 
 is to be done might well admit of disinite !" 
 
 " And I," said the husband of Mrs. Freeman, a stockbroker, 
 •nho, having lately made some lucky hits, had laimched into a 
 style of living only mfcrior to that of Sir Gabriel, " I, for my 
 part, were I in the position of Sir Galiriel Millman, ■« ould not 
 permit the ruffianly son of a dead bankrupt to insult me in my 
 own house ; had I my will, young man, a ijoliccman should be 
 called— a night's lodging in the station-house might perhaps 
 teach you how to comport youi'self towards your betters !" 
 
 "You mistake, Mr. Freeman; it is not towards my supe- 
 riors that I have to learn how I should bear mj'self !" replied 
 Eustace, turning on the stockbroker a look of such withering 
 scorn, that the latter — a stunted, ill-looking man, with a pale 
 face, and very red hair — recoiled a step or two, apparently in. 
 the apprehension that the young man would strike liim. "'It 
 is you who, I think, have that lesson to study, for well do I 
 remember how the noble spirit of my father was revolted by 
 your fawning servility, when, only tln-ee short years ago, he 
 was a wealthy merchant, and you were the starving clerk of a 
 stockbroker, too happy even to secure a meal at his table. 
 Show me a man whose name has never been stained by the 
 report of a dishonest or rmworthy action, whose upright and 
 cultiyated mind places upon hina the real distinction between 
 
 d2
 
 36 LILLIAS DATENANT. 
 
 mau and tlic brutes of the creation ; wliose amiable and gra- 
 cious manners are tlie reflection only of those sterhng quahties 
 both of heart and mind, and in him will I acknowledge not 
 only my superior, but my model ; towards him will I bear 
 myself witli a profound respect. It is to such persons as yourself 
 and Sir Gabriel Millman that I am indeed at a difficulty to 
 behave with that decorum due, not to your characters, but to 
 
 my own 
 
 Eustace Vere would not have been permitted to address the 
 stockbroker at such length, but that Sir Gabriel had been 
 drawn aside by liis wife, who was addressing various queries to 
 him in low but angry tones, to the no small amusement of 
 some among their dear friends, while others of the party were 
 not less pleased at the sharp nature of the rebuke which Mr. 
 Freeman had encountered. The matrimonial colloquy, how- 
 ever, was not very agreeable to Sir Gabriel, and breaking away 
 from his wife, he motioned for Eustace to follow him to the 
 library, whither he proceeded in silence, going to the door 
 after the servant had withdrawn who preceded them thither 
 with lights, to see that there were no listeners. Then, as he 
 approached the table, near wliich Eustace had seated himself, 
 his face grew almost black with passion, and his voice thick and 
 giittural, as he spoke through his sliut teeth. 
 
 " I know not," he gasped, " by what means you have become 
 acqiiainted -n-ith a name that I have not heard for twenty years, 
 and which to me is a record of all that is rei)ulsive and hateful. 
 Neither can I calculate what advantages your knowledge of it 
 may give j'ou over me, or to what circumstances that know- 
 ledge may extend ; but I demand of you one tlung — doubtless, 
 liigh-minded as you pretend to be, your piu-pose is to wring 
 money from me, l)y tauntmg me with that name : sijecify your 
 demand, then, and let us have done with each other ; anything 
 in moderation I Avill agi'ce to." 
 
 " My demands. Sir Gabriel Millman, are very moderate," 
 returned Eustace, in a tone of affected softness, when con- 
 trasted with the passion which was evidenced by his dark brow 
 and quivering lip ; " a mere trifle wiU content me to-night — 
 that instalment of only a poor one hvmdred pounds, out of my 
 father's sixty thousand, the hundred pounds ^Ahich you so bit- 
 terly' refused me only two months since !" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I did refuse it you," said Sir Gabriel, pacing 
 the room in an uncontrollable fiuy of rage and anguish. " You 
 asked it, then, on the plea that it woiild enable you to enter into 
 pome small way of business for the suppoi-t of your mother and 
 yourself." 
 
 " Your memor\' is excellent. Sir Gabriel," retimied Eustace, 
 in his foiTUcr cold sarcastic tone ; " doubtless it will also help 
 you to the recollection of the terms in which you refused that
 
 LIILIAS DAVEKANT. 37 
 
 small favour, sliall I call it— no, ratlier let me say tliat minimum 
 of restitution, for the maximum of wrong. You remember, 
 then, also, how you exulted in my i:)Overty, in the thought that 
 my mother, who had scorned you in her youth, might be 
 oppressed by you in her age ; how you avowed your bitter 
 hatred and envy of my father for his ijossession of those quah- 
 ties of honesty, honour, and educatioji, which, base though the 
 world may be, are not yet without their value. x*fay, in that effer- 
 vescence of your vulgar malice, you chd not even spare a brutal 
 jest upon my father's claims to high descent, a proof how that 
 really valueless boast had awakened your envy, and rankled in 
 your low mind. He had always scorned yovi, and spoken ill of 
 you, you said. The last assertion was false ; the fu'st could 
 have been foimded only on your innate consciousness that you 
 were indeed worthy to be scorned. It is, I avow, some satis- 
 faction to me thus to remind you of the meanness of your inso- 
 lence, to tell you that I yet hope to have justice on you for the 
 fraudulent mode in which ,^'ou possessed yoiu'sclf of my father's 
 fortune, and to dare you, at your peril, now to refuse the hun- 
 dred pounds wliich I again ask for." 
 
 " You may threaten me, indeed, with revelations which I am 
 ill prei^ared to meet," rephed Sir Grabriel, in the same choking 
 voice which he had used before, " and I must perforce give you 
 the monej', which, hke a thief, you demand." 
 
 " Softly, softly. Sir Gabriel !" inteiTupted Eustace ; "no 
 such hard words, if you please. The law, which, on our last 
 interview, you boasted I had not the means to emi)loy, I am 
 now in a position to reach ; and that will decide which of us 
 deserves to be called a thief!" 
 
 " And it is my own money — my own money," exclaimed the 
 knight, Avith a bitter oath, " I am to give this man, that he may 
 bring with it the harpies of the law about my ears !" 
 
 " Pardon me. Sir Gabriel," returned Eustace ; " the hundred 
 pounds will be a portion of my father's money, not of yours !" 
 
 " Perhaps it wdl iilease you, sir," broke forth Sir Gabinel, 
 " that I shoidd present j'ou with sixty thousand pounds, that 
 being the simi of which, you say, I robbed yonr father, and 
 which, I say, passed from his hands to mine by the customary- 
 course of trade?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sir, you mistake me !" said Eustace ; " I would by 
 no means deprive that honourable proceeding of yours of the 
 publicity which it surely ought to enjoy. Besides that, I a\ ould 
 not be so ungallant as to interfere with the wedding gift which 
 you design for your daughter ; for I have heard you are about 
 to purchase with thsft very simi of sixty thousand pounds the 
 Heatlicote estate, which my spendthrift, horseracing cousin, 
 Sir Harry Vere, is compelled to sell. Indeed, I have learned 
 also that Heatlicote is to be a portion of Miss Millmaa's
 
 38 LILLIAS DAA'ENANT. 
 
 dowry. Believe me, Sir Gabriel, it is in another fashion than 
 the present I shall ask you for my father's fortune !" 
 
 " Really, then, my yoiiuff friend, I am greatly obhged to you, 
 after all!" cried Su-Gabriel, with a kind of chuckle. " I am 
 to understand, then, that after demanding a hundred pounds 
 of me, and, in a manner, compelling its pa^'ment, you mean to 
 stand to the glorious uncertainties of our fine old English 
 laws for the recovery of your father's sixty thousand pounds ? 
 Ah, my amiable friend, you Mill find it is quite a delusion of 
 youth to imagine that ; a single hundred pounds will do very 
 little work against a milhonaire ; and be assured of one thing, 
 that the name of Marion Grey even is not a talisman to chai-m 
 money out of my strong box, just at the i^leasure of a romantic 
 young gentleman, who vnay fancy a theatrical fashion of 
 using it !" 
 
 "Be at rest upon that point. Sir Gabriel," rephed Vere, in 
 the same gibing tone as was now employed by the knight; " I 
 shall not make any dramatic use again of the fan' name of 
 Marion Grey. All my private purposes will be answered by 
 the draft for one hundred pounds, which jou will have the 
 goodness presently to give me." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Vere, our interview is not so pleasant that I wish 
 to prolong it !" replied the knight, as he wrote a cheque for the 
 sum, adding, as he presented it, "but I must beg you, my dear 
 friend, again to be under no delusions as to what you can do 
 with this amount. I assure you money rolls away very fast ; 
 it is made round for that purpose ; and a hundred pounds will 
 go but a little way in housekeepmg, and still less in paj^ing the 
 laAvyers !" 
 
 "Truly, su*," replied Eustace Vere, " I am infinitely boimd 
 to you for your most disinterested advice, and beg in retin;n to 
 wisli your daughter and her noble intended all the fehcity 
 wliich any connexion of vours ought to enjoy in the old halls of 
 Ileathcote !" 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Vere," replied Sir Gabriel, as he rung the bell for 
 a servant to show the young man out, " I shoidd be ovcr- 
 Aihelmed by your good wishes, were they not responded to as 
 heartily by my own towards you !" 
 
 The servant a])])eared, and was ushering Eustace through 
 the liall, A\hen a white figure crossed their path, and Genevieve 
 jMillman, seizing the unwilling hand of Eustace, exclaimed in a 
 low voice, yet more broken by her tears, " Oh ! Mr. Vere, this 
 A\as a sad visit from so old a friend, from one whom I have 
 looked upon as a Ijrother ; and dearest Mrs. Vere, too, oh, tell 
 licr I woidd have been to see lier had I kn(f^n Avhere you lived ; 
 and do not, do not tliink that I fail to grieve over all this cruel 
 business. My fiillier deals too hardly ; alas, I know he does. 
 But tell me w'here you live, dear, dear Eustace ; and that you 
 do not think ill of rae,— oh, say but that !"
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 39 
 
 " Poor Genevieve !" answered Eustace, in a voice softened 
 from all the sternness and asperity 'oitk whicli he bad addressed 
 her father ; " I do not, indeed, blame you, and I will strive to 
 separate the thought of you from the bitter feehngs wliich the 
 daughter of Sir Gabriel MiUinan might awaken. But do not 
 aslc me of my mother, Genevieve, it is not good that you and 
 her shoidd now meet !" 
 
 ^i-s he sx^oke thus the j'oung man, 'oith a kind of gentle vio- 
 lence disengaged his hand from the earnest grasi? of Geue- 
 Aieve. and a minute afterwards the door of Su' Gabriel's 
 mansion was closed behind him. 
 
 Tlie rain and sleet were still beating, and the wind howling 
 bitterly without, yet, despite the stormy nature of the night, 
 there was. it seemed, a companion waiting for Eustace, as a taU 
 man muffled in a cloak started from behind a lamp-post the 
 moment the door closed. 
 
 " Have you got the nionej' ?" inquired this person, as he 
 proceeded 'O'ith the yoimg man across the square. 
 
 "I have indeed!" rephed Eustace; "though I own I 
 like not the fashion in Avhich it was obtained ; it is the 
 sliai-psliooter's ■narfarc, in compare wiVa open honourable 
 light!" 
 
 " Foolish boy !" said his companion, " it is in such a fashion 
 only that such a man can be punished ; j-ct the fears which 
 I know vriU harass him to-night, are paradise to the distilled 
 tortures he shall taste of no long time hence. Ah ! the red 
 Indiau at the stake shall yet be a more enviable object, than 
 wealthy, foi'tiinate Sir Gabriel MiUrnan." 
 
 CHAPTEE Yll. 
 
 " At the night raven's dismal voice. 
 When others tremble, we rejoice." 
 
 Chorus to Macbeth. 
 
 It was with somcthiug like an uneas3^ feeling as to Lillias's 
 seeming imderstanding of the strange warning which had been 
 conve.ved to her, that Lord Langley took his way towards the 
 manor-house of Beechgrove, which was distant about four 
 miles from St. Mary's Vale. Perhaps even some doubts as to his 
 own sentiments towards her increased this uneasiness. The 
 road he was pursuing was a lonely, and, in some respects, 
 uupleasant one, presenting aU that diversity of hiU and dale, 
 v\ ild romantic rock and barren waste, for which the county is 
 remarkable. 
 
 Lord Langley had. proceeded about a mile and a half beyond 
 St. Mary's A'ale, and, absorbed in thought, had almost let the 
 rein fall loose upon his horse's neck, as he entered a kind of 
 narrow gorge sunk between the liills. or rather mountams, the
 
 40 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 sides of wliicli were sliaggcd with dwarf oaks and stunted 
 pines ; the branches of the former still hung with russet leaves, 
 that trembled and were separated from the stems as the chill 
 autumnal breeze passed over them, and the latter, with their 
 boughs of dark and never-fading-green, tinged with a bluish 
 shade, as the cold rays of the rising moon dipped into the 
 hollow of the hills, the bare brown peaks of winch seemed to 
 rest against the fleecy clouds. A white gleam of Ught was 
 seen a little to the right of the valley, as Lord Langley entered 
 it, and a low dasliing sound met his ears, the noise of a mimic 
 cascade, the waters of which caught a dazzlmg lustre from the 
 moonbeams that darted full upon them. 
 
 A quantity of brvishwood grew about the foot of the hills, 
 and from among this rose the dwarf oaks before alluded to, 
 one of which had thrown its gnarled branches directly over 
 the waterfall, while its roots formed a natural seat for the 
 rustic swains and maidens, who were in the habit of repau'ing 
 there during the spring and summer seasons. 
 
 Lord Langley M^as almost within the shadow of this oak, 
 when the form of a man of sviperior stature, and swathed in a 
 large mantle, rose suddenly from its foot. Perhai^s at that 
 moment Lord Langley felt that there had been an impru- 
 dence in not suffering his groom to attend him on his visit to 
 Lillias Davenant ; but this momentary sense' of indiscretion 
 gave way to an impidse of anger, when the stranger, springing 
 forwards, laid a strong hand upon his bridle, and exclaimed, in 
 a loud and menacing tone — • 
 
 "You will do well. Lord Langley, to forbear from again 
 visiting Lillias Davenant !" 
 
 "Wherefore, sir?" demanded the Adscount, whom the 
 strangeness of the address had startled into this inqidry as to 
 its cause. 
 
 "Ask yourself, my lord," replied the stranger, in a still 
 sterner accent, " what does the betrothed husband of Gene- 
 vieve Millman in the lowly abode of her true-soided, noble- 
 hearted cousin ? Do you dare to think that Lillias Davenant 
 was born to be the creature of a light love, when her cousin, 
 who is not wortliy to tie tlie shoe she wears, is to be your wife ; 
 or do you intend to break your faith with Miss Millman, and 
 plunge your fatlier into the abyss of ruin that j'awns for a 
 banknipt noble ?" 
 
 The perfect knowledge which the stranger seemed to 
 possess, not only of the circimistanccs of hnnself and his 
 family, but almost of his own thoughts, somewhat startled 
 Lord Langley ; \^hile he was no less olfcndad hy the bluntness 
 of his speech, by his intuitive ])erccption of hoijes or designs 
 which he had not yet acknowledged to hnnself. " Assnredly, 
 sir," he said, " your acquaintance with the most private affairs
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 41 
 
 of my family, is sufficient evidence of the trouble yon take in 
 matters wkicli cannot possibly concern you, wkile the avowal of 
 tlie surmises which you liave been i)leased to form of my visit 
 to the cottage of Miss Davenant, amoiuits to a positive insult, 
 both towards the young lady and myself. Be pleased to stand 
 out of the way, I do not wish to avenge myself for your im- 
 pertinence by riding over you !" 
 
 " I shall not do Lilhas Davenant so great an injury, yoimg 
 man," replied the stranger, with most provoking coolness, " as 
 to place my hfe or hmbs in any jeopardy from the hoofs of your 
 horse. Go your way, then ; but remember, all defenceless as she 
 seems, the orphan gud has a protector yet, and that be your in- 
 tentions fair or foul, the wolf and the lamb shotdd mate as soon 
 as Lniias Davenant and your iiarent's son !" 
 
 As he spoke thus, the stranger relinquished his hold of the 
 horse's rein, and darting across the valley, was lost to sight, 
 amid the shrubs on the opposite side. 
 
 Eage and \^'onder aHke distracted the mind of Lord Langley, 
 as the stranger disappeared. He was inchgnaut ahke at the 
 avowed knowledge of the distressing circumstances attendant 
 on his own family, and the analysis of his feelings towards 
 Ldlias Davenant. In vain he racked his brain with surmises 
 as to who this man might be ; for he had worn his hat low upon 
 his brow, while the moon, shining at liis back, effectually cast 
 liis features into shade, nor was his voice recognisable by Lord 
 Langley. 
 
 Meau^^'liile the young man had approached a spot where the 
 valley considerably widened, Avlule large clumps of trees still 
 skirted the foot of the lulls, or were dotted over the green 
 recesses, which at intervals appeared on either side of the valley. 
 
 A redder light, however, than that of the wan moonbeams 
 was seen dancing on the dark boughs of a cluster of pmes 
 that grew in one of these recesses, as Lord Langley approached 
 it ; and it was not with altogether i)leasurable sensations that 
 he perceived a company of gipsies seated roimd a blazing fire, 
 over which hung a kettle, seeming, by the care with which, 
 an old woman of the tribe was stirring its contents, to contain 
 some savoury mess intended for the supper of the party. A 
 company of gipsies, among which were to be numbered some 
 three or four stout sinewy men, was not the most agreeable 
 for the encounter of a solitary traveller ; and whether out of 
 pure childish mischief, or by the direction of some of his 
 elders with more nefarious designs, a little ragged urchin of the 
 party came tumbling across the path just as Lord Langley's 
 horse approached the spot where the party was seated, if this 
 trick was executed with evil intent, it fully answered its pur- 
 pose, as the animal reared so violently that he threw his 
 rider, whoso head coming iu contact with the root of one
 
 42 LILLIA8 DAVBKANT. 
 
 of the trees, lio lay apparently senseless, while the tribe 
 gathered round hiui, one of then- munber having secm-ed the 
 frifihtened hoi'se. 
 
 " The^ seven plagues light on thee, thou ill-conchtioned 
 iircliin !" cried the old Avoman Mho had been stuTing the soup, 
 dealiiig, as she spoke, so violent a blow to the boy who had 
 occasioned the accident, that while he rubbed his tinghng 
 cheek he sobbed out, " Find fault with Michael Shaw, mo- 
 ther. He told me it was the young lord, and that his watch 
 and purse would pay us for some of our ill luck !" 
 
 " The murram seize thee, too, then, Michael Shaw !" 
 returned the hag, scowling darkly on a tall and ferocious- 
 looking man, -who was standuig with his back against a ti-ee, 
 and a pipe in his mouth, lazily contemplatiug" the mischief 
 which he had caused. At the speech of the woman, however, 
 he relinquished his pipe, and Mhile his swarthy countenance 
 was rendered more repidsive by a look to the full as mahgnant 
 as that which she had bent upon liim, he rephecl, in a deep 
 gTittural accent— 
 
 " Come, come, Zillah, let us have no more of tliis. You 
 cai-rv' on matters at your own gait with gentleman Gerald, 
 and pouch all the winnings. Don't go about, then, to gradge 
 your pals a httle business on their own account, now and 
 then !" 
 
 " Satan himself take thee at once into his keeping!" cried 
 Zillah, startijig from the kneeling attitude in which she had 
 been examining the hurt which Lord Langley had received on 
 his head, and, stamping on the ground in a fury of passion, 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " Know, then, Avretch, it was of tliis very man that Gerald 
 spoke to me to-night, and ordered that none of the tribe 
 shoidd harm a hair of liis head, or pilfer huu to the amount 
 even of a shilhng. Bestir thyself, then, and help me to cany 
 him where I may examine how far he is hurt. Don't thou 
 grumble for not knowing the colour of Gerald's coin. Pa- 
 tience, bo.y8, patience ! You shah have your share of the 
 chink in good time. Didst ever know Zillah have a fashion 
 of cheating ?" 
 
 As the old crone spoke thus, she motioned for the gipsies 
 to assist her in raisuig Lord Langley from the ground T and 
 forthwith he was borne into a kind of hoUow, or cave, which 
 nature had formed in the hiUs, where she busily employed 
 her;^elf in ai)pl.>iog bruised herbs to the contusion. 
 # " * * * * 
 
 Fatigued as she was before Lord Langley left the cottage, 
 Alice Davenant, after exhausting her fancy in vain conjectures 
 as to whose hand it was which had sent the mysterious missive 
 through the parlour window, had retired to rest, and, after
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 43 
 
 slecpinp; profoundly for about two hoiu-s, was awakened rather 
 suddenly, just as the clock in the little hall below her chamber 
 struck one. The moon shone brightly through the wliite 
 drapeiy of her bed, and tlirough the Aidndow ciu'tains, which 
 had not been closel.y cb-awn. 
 
 iUice Davenant was a somewhat nervous and timid child, 
 and this weakness had been increased by the melancholy and 
 fearful events of the last few days ; she therefore raised her- 
 self on her elbow to look for Lillias, who usually slept in the 
 bed opi)osite to her own, and which had been occupied by the 
 Countess of Daylsford during her temporaiy sojourn at the 
 cottage. 
 
 To the surprise, however, of the child, her sister was not 
 there ; and it seemed indeed to her that the bed of LiUias had 
 not been occupied that night. Timid though Alice might be, 
 her afiection for LiUias was stronger than her fears, and she 
 immediately leaped from her pwn bed, in an apprehension 
 tliat some new danger had befallen her sister. The door of 
 the chamber was on the latch, and on oi^ening it, with a design 
 of calhng Lillias and the nurse, Alice i^erceived, by the ray 
 of a candle streammg tlirough it, that the door of the room 
 on the opposite side of the lauding was ajar, and the chamber 
 itself apparently occupied, as the low mumiui-ing of voices, 
 mixed at intervals with deep sobs, proceeded from it. Poor 
 little Ahce regarded that chamber with a shudder, for there 
 lay the remains of her father ; and not all her deep love for 
 him, not all the reasoning of Lilhas, could overcome the 
 child's terror of that chamber, which was rendered fearful to 
 her by the awful presence of the mystery of death. Alice 
 knew, however, that it was the custom of her sister alone to 
 visit the room, to take a look at the loved though changed face 
 of Mr. Davenant, each night before she sought her bed ; and 
 thinkmg that Lillias was now engaged in that mournful task, 
 she ventured a step or two nearer to the door, and then per- 
 ceived her sister standing -nith her back towards her by the 
 open cofSn, on the other side of which stood a tail man, whose 
 somewhat haggard countenance was fully revealed by the hght 
 of the candle m the hand of LiUias. Time and son'ow seemed 
 to have worn his featiu-es. which had once been remai-kably 
 handsome ; his dark brown hair was thickly strii^ed with grey, 
 and even while Alice gazed, in a wonder which overcame her 
 fear, as to who this stranger could be whom her sister had 
 admitted to the cottage at that drear hour, to look upon the 
 fixed featiu'es of him who was so soon to be hidden from 
 mortal eye in the dark and chsmal grave, the bosom of the 
 sti'ong man shook, and once more those bitter sobs burst 
 forth, the so\md of which had at, first attracted tlie attention 
 of AUce, -who then vcutui'cd softly to call her sister, but LiUiua
 
 44 LILLIAS DITENAXT. 
 
 turning; round, and seeing ker at the door, motioned her with 
 a sad look to retu-e to her bed, while the stranger seemed too 
 much absorbed in his grief to notice her. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 " Is it the weakness of mine eyes 
 That frames this monstrous apparition ? see ! 
 It conies upon me '." 
 
 Julius Ccesar. 
 
 When Lord Langley recovered the possession of his senses 
 he found himself Ij'ing in what had apparently once been a 
 handsome apartment, but the paper Avas torn and dew-stained, 
 the floor without a carx^et, the furniture such as was in use 
 some fifty years before, and the grate, devoured with rust, 
 bore no aj^pearance of having contained a fire for a veiy long 
 space of time. Lord Langle^' was lying on a bed in one comer 
 of this apartment, which ^^as illumined both by a lamp that 
 stood upon an old broken table and the bright rajs of the 
 full moon sti-eaming through a lofty casemented window, 
 from some sections of which the glass had been beaten out. 
 
 The bed that supported Lord Langley was, like the other 
 furniture of the room, in a state of decay, and exhibiting a faded 
 richness, the hangings, originally of bright blue damask, were 
 discoloured, damp, and torn, and the costly fringe which had been 
 used for trimming had dropped from the tlu'eads that confined 
 it, and hung pendant and covered with dust. A severe pain in 
 the head, so soon as he endeavoiu'ed to move, reminded Lord 
 Langley of the accident which he liad encoimtered, and this 
 sensation of pain was followed, too, by a dizziness and faintness, 
 which compelled him to sink back again upon his not very' in- 
 viting couch. A bandage round his left ann, too, accompanied 
 by some pain and stiiiiiess of the limb itself, admonished the 
 viscount that he had been blooded diu'ing his swoon, and he felt 
 also that he had been bi-uised considerably^ hy his fall. 
 
 It was little in accordance with the uni^etuous nature of the 
 young man to lie still upon tliat miserable couch, unknowing 
 into whose hands he had fallen, or to whose charity he had been 
 indebted for the care taken of him during his swoon'; despite, 
 therefore, of Jiis s\vimming head, and the aches and pains of his 
 bruised body, he was again endeavoimng to rise, when a heavj' 
 stei), apparently ascending a staircase contiguous to the chamber, 
 met Jiis ear, and concluding tliat the person ai)i:)roaching had 
 probably been concerned in his removal from the valley in 
 which the accident happened, he desisted from his attempt. 
 
 Even, however, in the confusion of mind which was the result 
 of his fall. Lord Laiiirley (li<l not fail to notice that there was 
 something strange audunuatiu-al in the sound of the approach,-
 
 ttLlIAS DAVENANT. 45 
 
 ing step, wliicli tvas heard only at imusual intervals, and then 
 seemed to strike the fioor with the dull and hea\-j' sound of 
 lead. As that slow and fearful step had passed the staircase, 
 and was evidently advaneinjj along the passage or gallen- com- 
 municating with the chamher in wliich Loi'dLangley lay, who, 
 as he now raised liimsclf on his right arm, was conscious of a 
 sickenhig sensation of nervous, or superstitious teiTor, such as 
 he had never known before. And thus he remamed, half re- 
 cumbent on the bed, stupified, as it were, by that dull but 
 frightful sound, when the door slowly opened, and an object 
 appeared, the awful aspect of which riveted his gaze with such 
 a fascination as is supposed to attend the rattlesnake. 
 
 This object Avas a man, whose lofty stature was made more 
 conspicuous by his being attired only in a long white garment, 
 which, from the looseness of its folds, feU about his gaunt hmbs 
 like a winding sheet, and contrasted hombly 'oith his unshaven 
 face, the yellow cadaverous tint of his skin, and the dark spot 
 of blood wliich had oozed through the surgical bandage that 
 bound his temples. Whatever attractions the face of this per- 
 son might have once ijossessed, were now obhterated by the 
 deep lines traced by anguish, and by age, wliile liis eyes, wide 
 open, were fixed and glassy as those of a coipse. Low moans 
 broke from the lips of this "unhappy creatui-e as he entered the 
 chamber, and it needed not a second glance from Lord Langley, 
 to assure him that he was gazing upon somnambidism m its 
 most awfid shape. 
 
 In liis right hand the sleep-walker earned a lamp, and with 
 his left he stnick heavy and repeated blows upon his breast, as, 
 with the same slow and dragging step, he paced across the 
 apartment. To the left of the bed on which Lord Langley lay, 
 stood a large old-fashioned cabmet of cedar-wood, inlaid \vith 
 brass, which had doubtless been accounted valuable m its daj', 
 and towards this the sleep-walker directed his coui-se. 
 
 With that exactitude of recollection which so strangely 
 characterizes persons suffeiing imder that mysterious and 
 tei-rible disease, the somnambuhst cbew forth a key, which was 
 suspended from his neck by a ribbon, and applying it to the 
 lock of the cabinet, proceeded to take thence a number of 
 papers, aU apparently worn and discoloured with age. 
 
 Lord Langley, who had now partly recovered from the stupor 
 into which he had been thrown, rose softly from the bed, and 
 approached this unfortimate man. 
 
 His steps, however, were an-ested, by a deep groan from the 
 sleep-walker. " Twenty years," he said, in a hoUow but 
 moiimful tone, " twenty years since, the fan- hand of gentle 
 Mabel traced these fachng hues ; that hand, alas ! has long 
 since mouldered into dust, but the letters are here still, the 
 breathings of the pure gentle spirit outhviug the frail shell of
 
 46 LILIIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 moiiality tliat enslii'ined it. Dead ! dead! so long dead; and 
 ]iow, too, did she die ? Oli ! blind fool, barbarous, deceitful, 
 dishonest knave, and, more detestable than either, monster that 
 \Titli a woman's form, had a heart of flint, and the cunning 
 malice of a fiend ! Oh ! pardon, pardon, sweetest Mabel ! have 
 so many long years fled suice the gi'ave closed over thee, 
 and is thy angry si^irit not yet appeased ? All ! let me look 
 once more upon the semblance of the days gone by, and con- 
 trast the sweetness of its smile, with the pale hp and darkened 
 brow with which thou dost now iDui'sne me !" 
 
 As the sleep-walker spoke, he agam put his hand ia the cabi- 
 net, and di'ew forth a muiiatui-e resemblance of a young woman 
 of remarkable beauty, as it seemed to Lord Langley, from the 
 view that he obtained of it, as the sleep-walker held it to the 
 light, which he had placed upon a table near the cabinet. 
 
 The eyes -nith which the miseral)le man seemed to gaze upon 
 the poi-trait werQ still fixed and glassy, Mhen suddenly his 
 countenance changed, his features and limbs were distorted by 
 convulsions, and specks of foam stood upon his parted hps, as, 
 di'opping the portrait vriih a hideous cry, he exclaimed, in 
 broken accents, "It was not so — accuse me not, Mabel; what 
 means the blood upon thy bro"n' ? I did not do the deed ; there 
 was no blood ; thou canst not say it !" 
 
 As he spoke thus, the sleep-walker writhed upon the ground in 
 the agony of a strong fit ; and as the bandage rbimd his brow 
 became loosened, it discovered a ghastly and scarce cicatrized 
 wound, which, as he still roUed iipon the floor, mingling shrieks 
 and groans, suddeidy burst out into a stream of blood. 
 
 Conscious of his own inability to assist or restrain a powerful 
 man labouiing under so fearful a visitation, apart from the state 
 of the arm ui which he had himself been so recently bled. Lord 
 Langley took the hght, and was proceeding to the door for the 
 pul^)ose of ascertaming whether the house contamed any person 
 wlio would aid Imn to raise the conv\dsed man, when the sound 
 of Imrrying steps met his ears, and a woman bm-st mto the 
 apai'tment. Even ui the confusion of the moment. Lord Langley 
 was somewhat struck by the beauty of her face and person, 
 though botli were in a somewhat too masculine style to suit his 
 individual taste. Her brilliant black eyes now glanced eagerly 
 to the sleep-walker, and the high colour on her cheek had j)os- 
 sibly assumed a deeper tint from the haste with which she had 
 hurried up the stairs. In rather strange contrast too, to the 
 dilapidatod state of the house, this woman was attired in an ele- 
 gant dress of black satin, with a rich gold chain about her neck, 
 and a cap of point lace set coquettishly at the back of her head, 
 ornamented with a spray of hawthorn, and contrastmg agreeably 
 enough with her raven black hair, the beauty of which was not
 
 tlLIIAS DAVENANT. 47 
 
 jnanvcl b.v a sinalc stripe of grey, tlioiigli her age miglit have 
 been conjectured as somewhat beyond forty. 
 
 "iUas!" slie exehumed, "my poor husband, he has another 
 fit tlicn : I was so tired with watcliinc: that I had really fallen 
 asleep, and he must have left his bed as soon as I closed my 
 eyes ! Alas, my lord, we Bhall not be able to move him, I must 
 call Mr. Gerald!" 
 
 With these \\-ords the woman again quitted the room, leaving 
 Lord Langley iu a strange pei^^lexity as to who she cotdd be 
 who knew liim so well, while of her he had no knowledge. 
 
 His sm-mises on tliis subject, however, were not veiy plea- 
 santly iuteiTupted when she returned, in company ^^-ith the very 
 man who had so rudelj' reprehended his visit to Lillias Davenant. 
 
 *■ I will speak with you i)rcseutl.>', my lord," said this i^erson, 
 as, kneeling beside the suffering man, he forced the edge of a 
 small pewter cup between his teeth. It must have contained 
 some powerful remedy : as soon as he was thus compelled to 
 swallow the potion, the wi'itliing and struggling of the patient 
 became less violent, and presently, with a deep sigh, he i;n- 
 closed his eyes and cast them languidly on the face of his sup- 
 porter. 
 
 " You have been veiy ill, poor Marvel !" said the woman, 
 bending over the man wnth an affectation, as Lord Langley 
 thought, of tenderness and pity, which did not altogether suit 
 her harsh aqiiihne features and bold black eyes. 
 
 "IU," repeated Marvel, in a faint voice, "alas, alas! would 
 that the trials of this dreaiy world were at an end ; would that 
 I were sick even unto death!" 
 
 "Foohsh fantasies," replied the woman, as she assisted the 
 man whom she had called Gerald to raise the sick person ; 
 " foolish fiintasies ; that ugly cut you came by so unluckily has 
 weakened your mind for the passmg time, and caused a return 
 of your old coinplaint, but you will soon be well, and able to 
 play your part in the brave work which we have on hand." 
 
 "Would that my part were already played, even unto the 
 end," again returned Marvel, in a dolorous accent, as his friends 
 supported him from the room, a ghastly-looking object, for the 
 blood wliich had burst froni his wound had fallen in a copious 
 stream down his face, and dabbled his white rtmht dress. 
 
 In a few minutes Gerald, who had desu-ed Lord Lanpley to 
 abide his return, reappeared, and bidchng the yoimg nobleman 
 to foUow him, led the way down stairs to a ver\' comfortable 
 apartment, respectaljly and almost elegantly famished in the 
 modern style. Lord Langley noticed, though, that they had 
 descended no less than tliree staircases ere they reached tliis 
 chamber, and on neither of tliem had he seen a casement ; while 
 the room itself was without that usual and very necessarj^ appm-- 
 tenanccj and Ughted only by a handsome bronze lamp, dependent
 
 48 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 from tlic centre of tlie ceilmg. Immediately below tliis lamp 
 stood a table, with a substantial and elegant breakfast. The 
 cloth was of the finest and whitest damask ; the coffee and cho- 
 colate were steaming m vessels of richly chased and highly- 
 polished silver ; the mniBns and hot cakes were served on plates 
 of bca\itifid porcelain, while fresh eggs, savoury pies, ham, and 
 cold game were there in abundance. The room itself was himg 
 with crimson damask, a thick Turkey carpet covered the floor, 
 the chairs and couches were cushioned ^^ith morocco, and a 
 Gennan stove diflused a j^leasant warmth. 
 
 " It is getting towards four o'clock, and I shoidd recommend 
 your lordship to take somebreakfast," said the man whohad been 
 caUcd Grerald, with an easy air of politeness. " You need not fear 
 to taste the viands, they are not enchanted, if, as you may be apt 
 to think, my dwelhng is ; though I am free to confess I like not 
 your courtesies to Lillias Davenant Allow me to offer you some 
 chocolate. Our fan- friend, Mrs. Marvel, vi ill be here in a few 
 minutes, and ■\^^ll make a more agreeable attendant." 
 
 Despite the strange mode of Lord Langiey's meeting with liis 
 host, there was about the latter so much natural coiu'tesy, mixed 
 with the manner of a complete gentleman, that the viseoimt 
 covdd not resist its influence : and j)resently foimd himself dis- 
 cussing an exceUent breakfast in com]3any with one, of whom he 
 knew not how to decide, whether he was an outlaw, or a mad- 
 man, driven from the world by its vices or his own. No 
 daughter of Eve, however, could have been devoured b,y amoi'e 
 insatiable cvu'iosity than was, in this mstance, her son, who 
 eagerly watched for the moment when, consistently with pohte- 
 ness, he could j)iit particvdar inquiries to his host. The opx)or- 
 tunity was i^resently fiu-nislied by the latter, who, observing the 
 difficulty with which the young man used his arm, said, " I fear, 
 my lord, that your arm is stiff and pamful ; but that was an ugly 
 fall you had last night, and when you were brought in here I 
 thought it needful to bleed you. I was compelled to learn some- 
 thing of surgical art during my travels." 
 
 " Youhavebeen abroad then, sir?" saidLordLangley,inatone 
 and with a look which, despite of him, was strongly tinged with 
 his desire toknowmore of his host — "might I ask whetheryou tra- 
 velled for businessor for pleasure ; and reqviest also the acquaint- 
 ance of a person to whom, notwithstanding some rather dis- 
 courteous conclusions as to my friendship for Miss Davenant, I 
 must feel myself much obhged, for I susi^ect that the gipsies 
 whom I encountered pur|)Osc]y frightened my horse ; and I do 
 not doubt that tlicir object was robbeiy, if not murder, from 
 which yoii ])reserved me, and for wluch 1 will take care to seek 
 out and jtunisli them." 
 
 " That will be useless, my lord," replied Gerald, with a 
 drj'ness of tone and manner that almost waiTanted Lord
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 49 
 
 Laiif^ley's worst suppositions of his cliaractor. " The (gipsies will 
 not be found ; and as to your lordsliip's desire to be acquainted 
 witli me, I must reply tliat such an acquaintance could produce 
 neither profit nor pleasure to either party." 
 
 " You will let me, then, at least, sir, know the name of the 
 person who has expressed so strong an interest ia Miss Dave- 
 nant ; she is, I have understood from her own hps, almost 
 friendless ; and it behoves all who know her, and tlieuiselves 
 possess an honourable position, to protect her, and inquu-e 
 closely as to the views of a person who, while keeping his very 
 name even iu the background, as you do, yet calls himself 
 her friend !" 
 
 " Pardon me, my lord," was the reply. " I do not conceal 
 my name ; you must have heard Mrs. Marvel call me Gerald ; 
 I (am also called Tracy ; and I AviU be known, if her own 
 girlish folhes mar not my design, as one who v^ill iademnify 
 Lillias for the sorrows of her youth." 
 
 "You?" exclaimed Lord Laugley, with a rather angry- 
 accent. 
 
 " I, my lord," responded Tracy, a shght sneer crossmg his 
 dark and somewhat haggard features, as he cast his eyes upon 
 a large pier-glass which was on the wall. " Really it is my 
 opmion that the secret protection of an old storm-beaten way- 
 farer of the world, hke myself, rather better fits the honour of 
 a young maiden than would the avowed guardianslup of— par- 
 don me, my lord, for my plaui speaking — a dissolute yoimg 
 man of fashion, like yourself. I wish not to be needlessly dis- 
 courteous, yet I must agam remind you of your engagement 
 to Genevieve Millmau." 
 
 "I am with each day less disposed to fulfd that engage- 
 ment," rephed Lord Laugley. 
 
 " So I suspect," cahnly returned Tracy ; " and that disiacH- 
 nation gi'ows -with your acquaintance with LUhas Davenant. 
 But, my lord, I, in the first instance, think so well of you as 
 to suppose you will hesitate to cousign j^oiu- father to total ruin ; 
 and, in the second, I know perfectly the fickleness of yom- dis- 
 position, the necessity of luxury to a young man of yom' habits, 
 and of wealth to procure that luxiiry. Oh ! my lord, I know 
 you better than j^ou do yom'self ; and all things evd have not 
 yet so far subverted the good, that the chances of happiness 
 for LiUias should be set upon so vain and fl'andering a fancy 
 as yours," 
 
 " You speak roughly, sir," said the viscoimt, 
 
 " I speak trvdy, my lord," returned Ti*acy. 
 
 The door opened at that moment, and Mrs. Marvel appeared 
 
 bearing a letter, which she placed in Tracy's liands, who opened 
 
 it \\'ith some eagerness, and without apolog;\' to Lord Langley» 
 
 while Mrs. Marvel seating herself at the table poured out a 
 
 E
 
 50 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Clip of chocolate, and apologized for haviBg been so long de- 
 tained in attendance on lier sick husband. A dark look gathei-ed 
 on the coiuitenance of Tracy as he i)cnised his letter, and when 
 he had finished it, he inquired of Mrs. Marvel whether the 
 carriage was ready. 
 
 " Indeed it is not," she rephed ; " I thought it was your inten- 
 tion that Lord Langley should not leave ixs till the evening ; 
 siu't'ly he is scarce recovered yet froin the effects of his fall." 
 
 " JX^or do I wish to subject liim to any more inconvenience 
 than he has already sustained," rephed Tracy ; " but you know 
 well, Maria, I cannot keep all events under my control, and 
 that it is not any use to give orders without reflecting on their 
 consequence ; you wiU, therefore, have the goodness to make 
 things ready for Loi'd Langley to go at once." 
 
 Maria made no other reply to these words than by quitting the 
 room ; but as she tui'ned towards the door, Lord Langley 
 observed that the deep colour which usually mantled only on 
 her cheek, had risen even to her forehead, wliile her large 
 black eyes flashed with anger, not apparently unniingled mth 
 malice. 
 
 "While the woman was absent, Tracy still affected to oc- 
 cupy himself with the letter, with a design, as Lord Langley 
 coujectured, of avoiding further conversation. 
 
 On the return of Mrs. Marvel, it was not without siuTDrise 
 that Lord Langley fomid that, in quitting the ho\ise, he must 
 submit to be bhndfolded. 
 
 " Surely sir," he said to Tracy, " after the kindness which 
 I have experienced at youi" hands, you can scarce think me 
 so dishonourable as to discover to any person the place of 
 your residence, shoidcl you wish to keep it concealed." 
 
 " My lord," responde'd Tracy, " if you really feel yourself m 
 any way obliged to me for such trifling aid or coiu'tesy as I 
 liave shown, you will submit without murmur to such pre- 
 cautions as my jjleasure or necessity compels me to employ." 
 
 This artiumeut Lord Langley's gentlemanly feeling covdd 
 not confute, and the bandage was accordingly i)laced over his 
 eyes, and after being led by Tracy up a staircase on which he 
 counted twenty steps, he heard some bolts withdrawn, and 
 felt the ell ill breeze of the autimin morning sweep across 
 his face. 
 
 " We part now, my lord," said Tracy, " and let me beseech 
 you once more, as you value either your own happiness, or 
 iters, yield not to the delusions of a fancied friendship for 
 LilUas Davenant." 
 
 Lord Langley heard the heavy foot of Tracy retreat as he 
 ceased speakiug, but the next moment his hand was seized in 
 the soft warm clasj) of a woman, and the voice of Mrs. Marvel 
 murmured in lua ear — " I am the victim of cruel mysteries, my
 
 lilLLIAS DAVBNANT. 51 
 
 lord ; but meet me, I beseech you, ou Tuesday evening at six 
 o'clock, near the ruins of the Lovers' Tower, at Beechgrove ; 
 alas ! I would fain iind a friend." 
 
 To this extraordinary request, Lord Langlcy had no oppor- 
 tunity of reply, as the'rumbhng wheels of some light vehicle 
 at that momeiit soimded in his ears, and his hand, which had 
 been rehnqiushed by Mrs. Marvel, was taken in the rougli 
 grasp of a man, who' giuded him towards the carriage, which 
 he was assisted to ascend, this person remainhig by his side 
 duriug the journey, which occupied about a couple of hours. 
 Lord Langley, however, conjectured that a circuitous route was 
 being taken towards Beechgrove, to the vicinity of which Tracy 
 had promised that he should he conducted ; and tliis sunniso 
 was coufh-med when the carriage suddenly stopped, and lus 
 companion, after having assisted him to alight, renioved the ban- 
 dage fi'om Ills eyes, and he found lumself in a wild glen about 
 two miles distant from Beechgrove. The vehicle in which he 
 liad been conveyed was a somewhat elegant chariot, painted a 
 dark claret colour, and without armorial bearings, or other 
 distinction by which it might be recognised. The man who 
 had accompanied hun, as well as the coachman, was muffled ui 
 a large great coat, the coUar of which being drawn up round 
 the lower part of the face, and the hat worn low over the eyes, 
 answered the purposes of coucealment almost as effectually 
 as a mask. 
 
 " We were bidden to leave you here, my lord," said the 
 viscount's late companion, "you are well enough to walk home, 
 and the morning is a fine one." 
 
 Lord Langley would have offered some gratiiity to these 
 men, but they assured liim that their duty to their employer, 
 who paid them well, precluded theh accepting it, and mounting 
 the coach-box together, they drove rapidly away, leaving the 
 young nobleman to pursue his walk home, harassed vrith won- 
 der as to the events of the past night, not the least surprising 
 of which was, his having escaped hy the gipsies, who had con- 
 veyed bim to the dwelling of the mysterious Tracy. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 " I have no joy of this contract to-night : 
 It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden, 
 Too like the lightning, that doth cease to be, 
 Ere one can say it lightens." 
 
 Roinco and Juliet. 
 
 Three days had elapsed since Lord Langley 's strange ad- 
 venture in' the dwelling of Gerald Tracy, to ffnd which again 
 he did not possess the slightest clue. 
 
 The coimtess was reaUy hi of a nervous attack, and Ldhas 
 
 E 2
 
 52 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 
 
 Davenant, who, with, her sister, had visited Beechgrove the day 
 after her father's funeral, would fain have withdrawn, but that 
 Lady Emily had insisted on her stay, not only because from her 
 real kindness of heart she thought a day or two's removal from 
 tlie scene of their late sorrows might be advantageous to the 
 orphans, but that she was not unwilhng to avail herself of the 
 excuse which then* presence afforded, to escape for a few hoiirs 
 from the ill-humom- which Lady Daylsford vented on all who 
 entered her chamber, where, tiU the arrival of LiUias and Alice, 
 she had kept her daughter in constant and fatiguing attendance. 
 
 Beechgrove HaU, it may be remembered, was one of those 
 ancient and extensive Enghsh mansions -vAhich are somewliat 
 gloomy in the pomposity of their heavy architecture, M'ide 
 staircases, long galleries, dark closets, and innumerable narrow 
 windows. The grounds in the vicinity of the Hall were laid out 
 in a fashion the quaintness of which corresponded with the 
 style of the building, and were interspersed with grottoes, foun- 
 tains, and long terraces, the statues on which as nearly resem- 
 bled nature as did the jew trees ^Ahich, in the garden below, 
 had been kept, from time immemorial, cUpped into a grisly resem- 
 blance of the human form. Beyond these fantastic gardens 
 extended, on all sides, a noble park, which, from its profuse 
 clumps of stately beech, liad given its name to the hall. Every 
 diversity of gently-swelling hill, sweeping green-sward, and 
 wild woodland, was included in the wide circumference of this 
 park ; whUe on its eastern verge stood the gracefid ivj'-hung 
 ruin of a tower, the sole remains of the proud hold wliich had 
 been raised, soon after the Conciuest, by that branch of the noble 
 family of Meyuell, the hue of whose descendants, the possessors 
 of Beechgi'ove, had closed with the heness who had married the 
 tenth Earl of Daylsford, the grandfather of the present possessor 
 of the title. 
 
 Beechgrove, and the picturesque scenes which surrounded it, 
 were somewhat out of the limits of LiUias Davenant's usual 
 walks, besides that, with the sensitive pride of the highly 
 educated and gently born, she would have recoiled from the 
 chance of the repidse which her uatrusion on the groxmds might 
 have possibly met from some of the sen^auts. The quick imagi- 
 nation of Liihas, however, delighted in the contemplation of the 
 graceful records of the past, and whde under happier ch-cum- 
 stances it ^\ ould have been a rare enjoyment to her to roam at 
 pleasure tlu-ough the dusky galleries of Beechgrove, and the more 
 romantic; scenes of the adjacent ruin, the very melancholy of 
 those scenes, so much in unison with the present frame of her 
 mind, seemed jiartly to assuage its sorrow. 
 
 The main body of the present mansion of Beechgrove had 
 been built by the then representative of the Meynells so early 
 as the rcigu of James the First, and was cLdefly constructed of
 
 LIIIIAS DAVENANT. 53 
 
 stone, wliile the wings, wWrli had been added at a mnrh later 
 period, were built of red brick. A rare gallery of stiff portraits 
 did Beechgrove contain : i^rudish-looking whaleboned dnmes 
 of the days of James the First, and statelj'^ cavahers ■\vho had 
 foiight and bled m those of his son. 
 
 By the grim aspect of these wortliies, either wan-iors or 
 ladies, Alice Davenant confessed herself almost scared, but 
 Lillias loved to pace through that long gallery by the red and 
 dj-ing hght of the October smibeam, and hear the wild tales of 
 their ancestors with wliich the minds of both Lady Emily and 
 her brother were stored. A still more romantic interest, how- 
 ever, was attached to the riiin in the park, than any that hiuig 
 about the old portrait galleiy. 
 
 Within the preciucts of that ruin, ere yet it sunk into its 
 present decay, had a daughter of the Meynells been accustomed 
 to meet the lover upon whose suit her father frowned, when lo, as 
 the ha^iless pair sat, one fair summer evening, in their wonted 
 trysting place. — a ruined chamber of the old tower, — the dark 
 thunder-clovids gathered, and the hghtning, Mhicli struck down 
 a portion of the crumbling walls, laid dead the youth and 
 maiden in its course. 
 
 This romantic tale was told to Lillias on the second morning 
 of her sojourn at Beechgrove, and as Lady Emily vaunted 
 highly the picturesque situation of the ruin, Lillias expressed 
 a wish to add a sketch of it to her other drawings ; and it was 
 determined that she should proceed thither on the following 
 morning, escorted by Lord Langley, Lady Emily candidly 
 owning that she was not herself so early a riser as to share in 
 the expedition. 
 
 It shoidd be observed that the projected new furnishing and 
 alterations of Beechgrove had beendefen-ed tln'ough the illness 
 of the countess, who had protested against i)eople so proverbially 
 noisy as workmen being permitted even to cross the threshold 
 of the Hall during her indis])osition. Less by chance, too, than 
 as the consequence of a ladyhke reserve in both parties, the 
 name of Sir Gabriel Millman and his family had not been men- 
 tioned between Lillias and Lady Emily ; the Earl's daughter 
 refraining from inquii-iesastothe future designs of Lillias, from 
 a fear lest such inquiries might be attributed by the young girl 
 to an impertinent curiosity ; and Lillias forbearing to mention 
 the sad prosxjccts of herself and her sister, lest she should appear 
 no less iinpertinent],y obtnisive. 
 
 It may, however, seem singular, that, even in common conver- 
 sation, Lady Emily should not have alluded to the approach- 
 ing mannage of he;- brother ; but her single foible was an undue 
 degree of family pride, and that pride had been so bitterly 
 woimded by the proposed alliance with the citizen's daughter, 
 that she had frankly, if not courteously, told both her father and
 
 54 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 the viscouiat tliat tliey vrere not to expect tliat she, at least, 
 ■would receive Miss Millman as a sister. Poor Lady Emily, 
 amid all the confusion, and distress even, which had prevailed 
 in the cottage of the J3avenants dimng her own brief so- 
 journ there, had not failed to notice an old genealogical tree, 
 hung against the wall of the little parlour, and we will not say 
 that the knowledge of poor Lilhas having what she called good 
 blood in her veins had not a little to do with the avowed and 
 sudden partiahty of Lady Emily, in excuse for whom it must, 
 however, be said, that she had been chiefly educated under the 
 care of a maiden aimt, whose whole tune was spent in the study 
 of her family history, since the days of the Conquest. 
 
 As itwas.nevertheless, certain that the chief boast of the Ladies 
 Camilla and Emily Langley, in then* noble blood, was that they 
 "would disdain to debase it by an ignoble action, it was at least 
 to be preferred to that abominable pride of wealth which glori- 
 fies in its verj^ baseness. 
 
 Meantime, the day of the proposed expedition of Lillias and 
 Lord Langley to the Lovers' Tower, dawned with the bright sun- 
 beam and gentle breeze which sometunes gladdens the rural 
 districts of England with a reminiscence of svmimer, even ia 
 the last days of October. 
 
 "VVe will not say whether the wicked Lady Em.ily had a 
 design in sending for httle Ahce to spend the morning with her 
 in her chamber, instead of aceompan.>Tng the viscount and her 
 sister, to chscharge the ostensible duty of canying Lillias' port- 
 folio, and the real and more important one of precluding any 
 conversation either too serious or too tender, between her and 
 Lord Langley. The truth was, that Lady Emily's only foible 
 was now exhibiting its worst effects. She had no care for tlie 
 result, either to poor LiUias or her brother, should they be- 
 come deeply attached to each other. She thought only of throw- 
 ing an obstacle in the wa.y of his, as she phrased it, " disgi-aceful 
 alliance with the daughter of that ochons citizen." "\\Qiat mat- 
 tered Sir Gabriel's vidgar pelf? Horatio Lord Langley might 
 economize on the continent, and Edward might enter the armj', 
 and she herself, — why, her amit Lady Camilla's fortune was to 
 be hers, and she would resign it all to her brothers, and hve on 
 fifty po\inds a year, sooner than that the high blood of the 
 Langlej's should be turned pale bj^ a plebeian marriage. 
 
 Lady Emily knew not what elements of chscord her hand was 
 mixing. Allien she laid the way for the fostering of that incipient 
 passion ofjjord Langley, ■which her woman's quick perception 
 had detected. WJiat matter for misery, what a spell to rouse 
 the tumult of the darker passions ! The self-wdled and selfish 
 spirit of Horatio ; the threatened worldly ruin of the proud 
 earl, which must have been now terrible for him to contem- 
 plate, •when, to avoid it, he would joia hands with the base
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 65 
 
 money-dealeT, MiUman. The greed after aristocratic distinction, 
 the pride of wealtli, the dishonesty and cruelty of Sir Gabriel, 
 the tender, slmnking feebleness of the beautifid Grenevieve, and 
 the lofty soul of the proud and passionate Lilhas, stung by the 
 arrows of a blighted love, " the opj)ressor's contmnely and great 
 man's scorn !" oh ! " the eye of newt, and toe of frog," were 
 harmless uigi-edients for a hell-broth m compare with these, 
 which innocent Lady Emily was seekuig thoughtlessly to mix. 
 
 Happily unconscious, however, of the stock of misery which 
 those few brief moments were laymg u]) for future weary days, 
 Lilhas pursued her walk towards the riiins with Lord Langley. 
 It may be remembered that it was at that same ruin, the Lovers' 
 Tower, that Mrs. Maiwel had besought the young nobleman 
 to hold a meeting with her ; and there, on the night of Lilhas' 
 arrival at Beechgi'ove, had Maria and Lord Langley met. It 
 was not pleasant for Horatio so soon agam to visit the tower, 
 and that in comi)any viith. Lillias Davenant, for it seemed to 
 him an affront to her purity, that she shotdd be led even 
 beneath the shadow of the scene which had witnessed such 
 revelations as had been i:)om-ed into his ears by Mrs. Marvel. 
 The heart of Lord Langley had not yet been made entirely cal- 
 lous by dissipation, and it would have been touched -with pity 
 for the sufferings of Maria, had it not been also revolted by her 
 vice ; while her personal beauty was in far too coarse and bold 
 a style to suit his fastidious taste, which was revolted by the 
 shameless manner in which she avowed that love for himself 
 which she bitterly swore, ere their parting, should change into 
 deadly hate. Unwilling, however, as Lord Langley was to con- 
 duct Lilhas to the ruined tower, to be her companion there 
 even was better than sharing her society, of which he had 
 become jealous, -ndth her own sister and Lady Emily. The day 
 was fine, and even wai-m for the season, the gentlest breeze 
 only wlhi'led at intervals the red and yellow leaves from the 
 boughs, and the thin silvery mists, which floated over the land- 
 scape undispelledby the pale sunbeams, seemed only to hide its 
 harsher features. 
 
 The Lovers' Tower stood at the extreme verge of the park, 
 and the natural wildness of the scene aroimd it had not been 
 unaided by art. The ruin stood iipou the brow of a somewhat 
 steep hill, clad from the summit to the foot with a thick copse, 
 or rather wood, as the fir, the dwarf oak, and giant thorn trees, 
 rose above the brushwood, which, except where it had been 
 cut away for a lab^a-inthine path to the tower, completely 
 covered the hill. 
 
 From amid these woods were seen at inteiTals the gi'oy and 
 crumbling walls of the tower, half veiled with long garlands of 
 ivy, or with the pale wall-flower, sweet and fragi-ant 'mid 
 decay, blooming on its topmost turrets. The thick copse which
 
 Ob LllLTAS DAVENANT. 
 
 covered the Mil, also extended some half-mile below it, termi- 
 nating only -n-ith the lovr boundary' wall of the park, while the 
 riiin itself, overlookinp: that boundary, commanded an extended 
 ^-iew of scenerv' so wild and romantic, that the beauty of that 
 prospect was well worth the trouble even of climbing the steep hill. 
 An exclamation of delight burst from the hps of Lillias, as, 
 supported by the arm of Lord Langley, she reached the simimit 
 of the hill, and stood alternately gazing on the dismantled walls 
 and mossgrown tiurets by which it was crowned, and on the 
 wild prospect that stretched below. All the gorgeous colour- 
 ing of autumn was yet left to that scene : the brightest verdure 
 in the long and ghttering leaves of the never-fading ivj, which 
 climbed about the ruins, contrasted with the glo-n-ing bimches 
 of scarlet hemes that hung tliickly on the moimtain ash trees, 
 which grew in scattered clusters along the brow of the hill, 
 while, as the sunlieams darted among them, the russet leaves 
 which hung thickly on the boughs of the old oaks, took a 
 saffron tint ; and the bare boughs of the majestic beech waved 
 darkly against the blue sky. Far, too, as the eye wandered 
 over the open country, the same diversity of colour was seen : 
 the bare, brown hiU, the thickets of green and prickly holly, the 
 silver bhch, with its purple tassels, and dehcate white stems 
 gleaming through the thin autiunnal air, while the prospect was 
 closed by a ridge of hills, the summits of which were touched 
 with a deep i^urple tint that melted softly away on the verge of 
 the horizon. 
 
 The bright but brief sunbeam of the season had, however, 
 passed from the scene, and the wan mists had crept up from 
 the oak coppice that skirted the lull on wliich stood the Lovers' 
 Tower, and floated among the shattered walls and the trunks 
 of the ash trees, whose boughs now waved with a melancholy 
 moaning soimd in the cliill breeze. Yet still Lillias and Lord 
 Langley sat beneath an old arch of the tower, the shadow of 
 ^^'hich now gloomed darkly above them. 
 
 The ])ortfolio of LiUias lav upon the ground, and the pencil 
 had long dropjjcd froTu her fingers ; but as the early moonbeam 
 rose and penetrated the dark arch, the face that she turned to 
 the cold light was full of sorrow ; the tears, too, that feU fast 
 from her eyes, were they those of tenderness or self-rebuke ? 
 Alas, poor Lilhas, beguiled, imder the specious pretext of 
 friendship, withtbe trammels of a most luckless love ! Yet she 
 knew not what bitter pangs were prepaiiug for her in tliis fatal 
 sympathy with a spirit haughty and passionate as her own, for 
 ijord Langlejy, in declaring his love for LiUias, had made no 
 mention of liis contract with her cousin. Perhaps the con- 
 fession had been, as it were, chaiTned from his heart to liis 
 lips in the lonely walk of that fair autumn day ; perhaps the 
 converse and manners of Lillias, by turns brilliant, tender, 
 contemplative, had deepened his indifference to Genevieve into
 
 IILIIAS DAVENANT. 57 
 
 absolute dislike, or lie recoiled from owning that a base moTiey 
 calcidation had trammelled him with engagements to the 
 daughter of Sir Gabriel Millman ; or he so rightly read the 
 proud sold of f jillias, that he feared, shoidd he so soou avow the 
 obstacles to their love, she would tear his image from her 
 bosom, though her heartstrings cracked. Notlihig, then, that 
 had been said by Lord Langlcy, had awakened such deep sor- 
 row in Lillias ; but she thought of her beloved father, scarce 
 cold in the grave, and she turned in self-hvimiliation from the 
 lover, who, she felt, had won the promise of her love too soon. 
 Lilhas, when she perceived the moon had already risen, was 
 the fu'st to remember that she had left Beechgrove -ndth Lord 
 Langlcy immediately after lunch, and that the dinner-bell 
 M'oidd soon ring. Lord Langlcy, ho'never, laughed at her hesi- 
 tation as to what excuse she should frame to Lady Emily for 
 her long absence, for it need scarce be said that no mention 
 was to be made of that confession of their love, wliich the con- 
 science of Lilhas, no less than that of Loi'd Langley, rebuked, 
 for she resolutely shut her eyes to the fact, evident never- 
 theless to her clear judgment, that the mannage of his heir 
 w ith a poor unfriended orphan like herself would scarce be 
 pleasant to the Earl of Da,ylsford. Lilhas was already deviat- 
 ing from her own rigorous sense of honour, under the dictates 
 of a bhnd and sudden passion. Lord Langley, who had never 
 throughout his life considered the welfare of any person save 
 himself, or made any accoimt of the times and seasons tliat he 
 absented himself from home, was just as indifferent to the im- 
 
 Eitations to wliich her protracted walk with liim might subject 
 Ulias, as he had been a day or two before to the remarks 
 made by Lady Emdy, when he was detained at the house of 
 Tracy by his accident in the glen, of which he had made no 
 mention to liis mother or sister, though they had been suffi- 
 ciently curious as to why he came home on foot, while his 
 horse, from wliich he ackno^^'ledged he had fallen, was brought 
 to Beechgi'ove by a strange man in the evening. 
 
 At the earnest entreaty of Lilhas, however, he now prepared 
 to return with her to the manor-house, and they were descend- 
 ing the hill, still in earnest converse, when a loud mocking 
 laugh in the direction of the iiiins met theu* ears, and looking 
 back, they perceived a tall female figure wrapped in a large 
 mantle, but w-ithout any covering on her head, issue from be- 
 neath the shadow of the arch they had so lately cxuitted, and 
 call them loudly by name. 
 
 " Give ye joy, gentle and honest lovers!" she cried; "you, 
 Lillias Davenant, is it not well done to hsten to love-tales, and 
 your father not a week in his grave ? and you. Lord Langley, 
 are you not weaving a nice web to snare yourself with ? quite 
 needless for me to carry out the Uttle scheme of revenge I pro- 
 mised you on my part !"
 
 68 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 As she ceased speaking tlie -vroman again laughed bitterly, 
 and retreated towards the niius ; -niiither Lord Langley would 
 have pursued her, but for the earnest entreaty of the terrified 
 Lillias, who, as the moonbeams streamed iipon the stranger's 
 bare head, had recognised in her bold but handsome features, 
 the female who had so fiercely thi-eatened her in her adventure 
 at the deserted house. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 " Oh, melancholy ! 
 Wlioever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
 The ooze to show what was't thy sluggish care 
 Might easiliest harbour in ?" 
 
 Ci/tnbeline. 
 
 Ox the return of Lord Langley and Lillias to Becchgrove, 
 they were received mth more than even her usual urbanity by 
 Lady Emily, by whose orders the dinner had been kept back ; 
 and so soon as the repast ^as over, she dehvered to her brother 
 and Lillias, letters, wliich had anived for them in their absence. 
 A meaniug smile, which had something scornful too in its ex- 
 
 Eression, curled her lip as she observed, in giving her brother 
 is letters, " I, too, have one from papa !" and LiUias almost 
 started, as she perceived the dark colour moimting hi Lord 
 Langley 's cheek, and the frown that gathered on his brow, as, 
 hastily glancing at the superscription of his letters, of which 
 there were three, he crushed them together without opening 
 them, and thrust them into his pocket : the next moment, how- 
 ever, as his eyes fell upon Lilhas, unwdling that he should per- 
 ceive how closely she was observing him, she affected to ex- 
 amine her own letters, and uttered an involuntary sigh as she 
 noticed that the address was m the now too-well-kno\\n writing 
 of Sh- Gabriel Millman. " Some fresh insult !" thought Lillias, 
 " some further display of my imcle's vidgar and domineering 
 pride of wealth !" Then, wihing to know the worst at once, she 
 asked Lady Emily's i)ermission to retire in order that she might 
 peruse her letter. 
 
 " Eeally, Miss Davcnant, I cannot spare you just now !" re- 
 turned Lady Emily, laughing, " I am quite satisfied, from your 
 looks, that tlic letter comes rather from some cross old guardian, 
 than an amiable admirer, and as pa])a is away, and poor mamnia 
 confined to her room, it is hard, I think, if such a chai-ming trio 
 as is formed by you, I, and dear little Alice, putting Horatio 
 out of the question, cannot dismiss the troublesome world from 
 our tlioughts for a few hours, if not a few days !" 
 
 Tims l)idden, Lillias deferred the reading of her imcle's letter, 
 and tlie little party shortly after adjourning to the di-awing- 
 room, conversation and music consumed the rest of the even- 
 ing, Lady Emily being a fashionable proficient in the art, and
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 59 
 
 the exquisite voice and fine taste of Lillias, in singing national 
 airs, making ample amends for her deficienc.y in inti-it-ate execu- 
 tion. The music -^vas certainly very cleverly introduced by 
 Lady Emily, for she did not fail to observe that Lilhas vras 
 more than usually sad, and her brother most unusuaUy thought- 
 fiU. She had not failed to notice the long absence of Lord 
 Langley and Lillias, on theii" visit to the ruin, and her woman's 
 mstinct infomied her that pure unadulterated friendship veiy 
 seldom exists between an accomplished woman and an agi-ee- 
 able man, when the heart of either party is not pre-engaged. 
 This proud aud romantic Lady Emily, too, it will be remem- 
 bered, was vciy indignant at her brother's proposed misalli- 
 ance, and without by any means gomg the length of wishing 
 him united to LiUias, she cared not by what means the match 
 with Genevieve was broken off, and therefore derived great 
 satisfaction from the thought of seeing Lord Langley and Lil- 
 has most desperately and un^nsely in love with each other, 
 "for then," said Lady Emily's pride, "he will not many the 
 citizen's daughter, and though both Horatio and Miss Dave- 
 nant be veiy miserable in their love, that," argued her romance, 
 " has been the destiny of all tnie lovers, from the days of Bo- 
 rneo and Jidiet downwards, or to go as far back as the Athe- 
 nians, on the score of whom it was said that 
 
 " 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' " 
 
 In conclusion, too, Lord Daylsford had told his daughter, in 
 bis letter received that afternoon, that he should expect Horatio 
 to marrj' Miss Millman before Christmas, and most exube- 
 rantly did Lady Emily rejoice in her mischief, in the hope that 
 she had helped to throw an obstacle in the way of her brother 
 ever man^dng Genevieve at all. 
 
 On reachuig her chamber, which she shared with iiiice, the 
 first cai'e of Lillias was to examine the letter of her \incle, who 
 therein exjjressed his surprise that she had not left Derbyshire 
 the day after her father's funeral. " Lideed !" added the 
 knight, whose rancorous envy and hatred of the superior cha- 
 racter of poor Mr. Davenant not even the grave could appease, 
 "I do not see, for mj^ part, neither does Lady Millman, why 
 you should have defeiTcd the burial of your father for a whole 
 week after liis decease, thus wasting yoiu" money bj' a longer 
 stay in the coimtr^- than was at all necessaiy. I shall now, 
 however, expect you at my house on Monday evening next, the 
 first of KoA'cmber." There was a mercantile accm-acy in tliis 
 direction, and no less m the concluding paragraph of the letter, 
 in wliich Sir Gabriel commanded his niece to bring the under- 
 taker's accoimt to London Avith her, "for I wish," said he, "to 
 ascertain the amount of money you lia^e spent upon your 
 father's funeral, which I hope you have had the good sense to
 
 CiO LILLIA3 DAVE^TA^TT. 
 
 conduct ■n-itli economy, for I am apprehensive that my direc- 
 tions about the mourning necessary for yourself and Alice may 
 have misled you, and it is one thing that you should make a 
 respectable appearance as my nieces, and another to waste 
 money upon an ostentatious burial of a man who was, I am 
 sorry to say, of so httle use in the world, either to himself or 
 others, as your poor father ; and you must not forget that the 
 money I sent you was a loan and not a gift, and that it is for 
 your own good, in your future course of hfe, that you should 
 learn economical habits, and it is therefore I require you to 
 bring me these accounts !" 
 
 " Alas! what is to become of me !" ejaculated Lilhas, as she 
 passionately threw down the letter; "never, never shall I be 
 able to endiu"e the vulgar insolence of this man !" 
 
 " Then do not go to London at aU, dear Lillias," said Alice, 
 who had been reading the delectable epistle over her sister's 
 slioulder; "let us go and hve with Mr. and Mrs. Glamoy, or 
 
 try and get a school at A . I do not hke this uncle at aU ; 
 
 he is verj' cniel, and very wicked, to say the things he does 
 about poor papa." 
 
 " Alas, alas, my darling Alice," returned Lilhas ; " a mo- 
 ment's reflection shows me that I am no longer free to consult 
 my pleasure, as concerns Sir Gabriel Millman, for I owe him 
 thirty pounds ; and he shall never have it to say, that my 
 father's daughter failed to keep a money engagement, though, 
 indeed, I expect we shall find it a something worse tlian 
 Egjiitian bondage to live in his house !" 
 
 " I am very' sorry that you think we must go to London at 
 all, Lillias," replied Ahce ; then, as her eyes brightened with 
 tlie thought, she asked her sister whether she did not think 
 Lady Emily, who had been so kind, would fbid for her some 
 better employment in teaching than that which was offered by 
 Sir Gabriel. 
 
 Lillias, however, waived tliis proposal of the little girl, for 
 her afternoon's conversation with Lord Langlcy was heawv' at 
 her heart ; and to any one, rather than to his sister, kind and 
 generous though she had been, would Lillias have made known 
 the severity of her pecimiary- distress. Neither did she forget 
 that Lord Langlcy was about soon to return to London; for 
 so much had he let fall, tliongh not, alas! that his errand there 
 should, in lioiiour, 1)e the fulfilment of his contract with Gene- 
 vieve MiUrnan. Tlic mind of Lillias was, nevcrtlieless, too 
 acute— her pride too lofty— for her to feel satisfied with herself 
 in the kind of secret vows which she had entered into with the 
 young nobleman. But the enthusiasm of love vrarpcd her con- 
 duct, thougli it could not wholly bewilder her reason; and Lillias, 
 the pure and high-souled J^illias, submitted to the self-con- 
 tempt consequent on such conduct ; for the furst dream of j-outh-
 
 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 61 
 
 fill passion, the visions gilded by the false lights of an imagina- 
 tion which endowed the object of her idolatry ^\-ith every 
 virtue and every gi-ace, was, perhaps, too sweet to be easily re- 
 signed. StiU Lillias was aware that there was but deep sad- 
 ness in the prospects of her love ; and then her thoughts wan- 
 dered to the j)ast, more dismal even than she yet hoped would 
 be the future. She remembered her parents, both laid un- 
 timely m the grave, pressed there by worldly rum ; and it was 
 no selfish regret that called forth the bitter anguish ^^ ith which 
 she then wept. Little Alice, finding that she covdd not per- 
 suade her sister to abandon the jom-ney to London, had un- 
 dressed herself, and stepped into bed, where sleep had soon, 
 for a time, banished her yoimg sorrows. Lilhas, on the other 
 hand, occupied l^y her crowd of busy and distressuig thoughts, 
 had remained in the chair by the fire, which she had taken on 
 entering the room, and, roused from her reverie only by the 
 hea\^ tones of the great clock of Beechgrove, as it struck the 
 houi* of two, perceived the fire sinking low in the grate, while 
 the wind made a dismal moaning in the long galleries. 
 
 The chamber wliich had been assigned to Lilhas and her 
 sister, at Beechgrove, though one which had often been set 
 apart for guests of superior rank, was, nevertheless, situated m 
 the most ancient part of the mansion ; and httle iUice, the 
 ■ first night that she had tenanted it, had fairly owned that she 
 knew not what bribe could have induced her to sleep in the 
 chamber, alone ; and, indeed, its aspect was sufficiently drear 
 and pompous to excite ghostly fears in a weak or very youtliful 
 mincl. 
 
 The waUs, instead of being pai)ercd in the modern fashion, 
 were wainscoted mth oak, and carved at the cornices with 
 representations of men and animals, which were rather curious 
 than beautiful. The windows, foui* in niunber, were long and 
 nan'ow, and overlooked, not the gardens, but an inner court of 
 the mansion. The bed, also of carved oak, had hangings of 
 dark, green velvet, elaborately embroidered Avith birds and 
 flowers, but for which fashion of ornament, Alice declared that 
 it might have been mistaken for a hearse, as the canopy was 
 decorated ^"ith large tufts of feathers, and the velvet of so dark 
 a green that it would by cahdlehght have readily passed for 
 black. Cmubrous carved chahs, vrith. velvet cushions, long 
 naiTOW pier and dressing glasses, huge wardrobes, and cabinets 
 of ebony, made up in this chamber a stj'le of furniture of a date 
 of something more than a himdred years ago, and wliich Alice 
 said was much better suited to the occupation of the ghosts of 
 some of the former proud laches of Beechgrove, than to that of 
 herself and her sister. The pre-occupied mind of Lilhas, how- 
 ever, harassed with many cares, had jjrevented her noticing 
 the stately gloom of their apartment as aeciurately as Ahce had
 
 62 LILLIAS DAVBNANT. 
 
 done, and now for the first time it struck her almost pain- 
 fully, as the flickering of the dymg fire cast strange shadows 
 about the spacious room, the darkness of which was very 
 shghtl^' dispelled by the light of the single taper which she had 
 left burning on the dressing table. Her mind, weakened too 
 by soiTow, was more accessible to the weakness of superstition, 
 and as the rising wind shook the casements and passed mth a 
 wailing sound through the gallery, from which her chamber 
 opened, she fancied tliat a cry of human anguish Avas mingled 
 ■with its dreary moan, and sunk back in her chah oi^pressed with a 
 strange sickness at heart, andahnost fearingto approach the dark 
 funereal couch which stood at the remote end of the chamber. 
 A moment's thought was, however, sufficient to make LiUias 
 blush for an emotion so unusual, and she was prejiaringto retire 
 to rest, when again, in a lidl of the wind, a half-stitled sob, a 
 groan expressive of some deep bodily or mental pain, munis- 
 takably met her ears. Apprehending then that some member 
 of the household was seriously ill, Ldhas, whose mind had now 
 shaken off all tlie trammels of superstition, immediately took 
 the light, and left her chamber to see if she coidd render any 
 assistance to the suffering person, for, from the distinctness of 
 the sound, she apprehended that it pi'oceeded from some apart- 
 ment contiguous to her own ; but on issuing into the gallery, she 
 found the doors on either side of her room were fast locked, 
 and then too she remembered having heard Lady Emily say 
 that the only other cliambcr on the gallery m hich was tenanted, 
 besides that of Lillias, was the one occupied by the Countess. 
 The distance of her apartment from that of Lady Daylsford 
 was far too great for so suppressed a sound as that groan to 
 have reached the ears of Lilhas, and thinking that her senses 
 must after all have deceived her, she returned to her own room, 
 and was preparing to undress, when agam the groan was heard, 
 and this tune she became convinced it proceeded from some 
 room immediately adjacent to her own. The chamber of LiUias 
 contained another door than that which opened from the gallery, 
 which door, as she had found it locked on the inner side the first 
 night that she slept at Bcechm-ove, had given her no further 
 concern ; but now she resolved to try whether it was also secure 
 on the opposite side, as no trilhng care for herself interfered to 
 prevent her offering her aid to any person who she imagined 
 was in suffering. Tlie fastening, as she had conjectured might 
 possibly be tlie case, had only been used in her chamber, and 
 ;is she turned the key the door yielded to her hand, but her 
 liglit had been nearly extinguished hy a strong gust of wind, 
 as she entered a spacious and gorgeously furnished chamber. 
 The extreme splendour, indeed, of tliis room, at first banished 
 from the inhid of Lillias the cause of her intnision into it, and 
 she paused almost on its threshold, to admire its appointments.
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 63 
 
 Tlie carpet -which was spread upon the floor yielded like down 
 to the pressure of the foot, aud glowed mth the most gorgeous 
 colours. The frames of the couches, and chairs, were of ebony, 
 inlaid with sUvcr, the cushions and wmdow-curtams of rose- 
 coloured satin, elaborately \\rought with gold. Tlie tall mirrors 
 in then* magnificently -nrought frames, that reflected the 
 slu-inking figure of Lillias, hned the wall alternately with most 
 excLuisite fresco pauitiugs, representing the gay scenery and 
 pastimes or pleasant labour of some gay southern chme. Here 
 was seen a group of gay n^inphs. s])orting on the banks of the 
 Arno ; there a company of bacchanals, binding their brows wdth 
 roses, or pressing its rich juice from the purple gi-ape ; while in 
 either corner of the room, stood life-like groups, wrought in the 
 pm'est alabaster. Other costly evidences of wealth and taste, 
 too, did that saloon contain, Ijut Lflhas' survey of it was sud- 
 denly interrupted by a renewal of the dismal sound wliich had 
 first lured her to the apartment, and she then iKTceived at its 
 upper end, a door coiTespouduig with that by wliich she had 
 entered, and tlu-ough wliich stole a pale ray of light. 
 
 Placing her own candle on a marble table, LiUias now softly 
 approached this uiner room, through the half-open door of 
 which she perceived a tail man, whose back was turned towards 
 her, as he seemed engaged in the examination of the picture of 
 a female, hung high on the waU, aud against wkich he held a 
 lamp. 
 
 *' Fairest, most ill-fated Mabel!" ejaculated this person, in a 
 voice which, low as were its tones, j'et seemed familiar to 
 LiUias ; " evil for us both was the day on which first we met ; 
 yet better was thy lot than mine, for the cold earth that closed 
 over thy breast has stilled its throbbuig ; while I, my heart 
 burning with a thousand wrongs, am stiU doomed to dweUing 
 in tliis weary world!" As the stranger spoke thus, he half 
 turned from the portrait with a bitter sigh, and partially dis- 
 covered to LOlias the features of the mysterious Tracy. 
 
 Conscious as she ^^as of a direct violation of the iujunctions 
 of this person, Lillias, but fll disposed to encounter his reproofs, 
 or further mandates, wa« about hastfly to retreat, when her 
 steps were arrested by her iierceiving a female figure, clad in a 
 loose white garment, and bearing a lamp in her liand, issue from 
 an inner apartment to meet Tracy, who, instead of advancing to 
 support her fafling steps, coldlj' folded his arms, and pointed to 
 a seat. 
 
 " This is cruel !" gasped the female, in a faint wafling 
 accent, as she staggered to a chair, aud. placing her lamp 
 upon a table, so that the light rested full upon her features, 
 discovered to the astonished LiUias the countenance of Lady 
 Daylsford. " Tliis is cniel," she repeated. " Oh ! I expected 
 not, when you heard I was so Ul, that you would look for
 
 64 LILLIA3 DAVENANT. 
 
 me to keep the appointment made in the house of Mr. Dave- 
 nant." 
 
 ^ " Wherefore, then, are you here, Ellinor," returned Tracy, 
 " if you did not expect me ? Oh, the time for subterfuge is 
 past. The hour so long reckoned on has at last arrived. You 
 knew that I should take care to hiform myself of your exact 
 concUtion ; and that, if you were not actually dying, I shoidd 
 expect that appomtment to be kept T^hich you dared not, for 
 more than yom- hfe, refuse !" 
 
 " Alas, alas !" exclahned the countess, sobbiag bitterly and 
 wruigiag her hands as she spoke; "how is this to end? 
 '\^"hat a tyranny would you estabhsh over me ! "^Tiy am I 
 thus treated?" 
 
 "Because heaven is just," retorted Tracy ; "and your ill- 
 desen'ing merits a punisliment more severe than any which 
 is ui my power to impose ! Oh, if I yielded to the weakness 
 of mj- heart, the remembrances of by-gone years, when I 
 again gaze on you, would lead me to spare you even j'et ; to 
 leave unpunished all youi- cruelty, your cunning, yoiir low 
 ambition, that iron-hearted selfishness with which you worked 
 out youi- schemes, and cared not what hearts you tx'ampled 
 on in your waj'!" 
 
 " But you know not what you ask," said the countess. 
 " That man, who caused so much mischief, I have not seen 
 for 3'ears." 
 
 "_ That man rather who was your accomphce in a mischief 
 which he wrought merely from a vidgar avarice, but which a 
 thousand bad feelings led you to the commission of. But it 
 matters httlc, EUinor, that you have not seen him for years ; 
 you are, I hear, now hkcly to see him every day, or at least 
 you will have a full opportunity to do so, and I intend to 
 luake that opportunity subservient to my design of punishing 
 both yom' sins and his." 
 
 Tracy pronounced the last words in a tone of biting sar- 
 casm, and turned as he spoke so abruptly towards the door 
 near which Lilhas was standing that she had scarce time to 
 draw back without being seen. 
 
 Perhaps the necessity for so suddcnh- concealing herself had 
 the eliect of reminding her of the impropriety she had been 
 guilty of, in even for so brief a space hsteniag to a conversa- 
 tion evidently intended by the parties engaged in it for no 
 other ears than their o^vn. With this conviction, therefore, 
 Ldlias, 80 soon as Tracy had agaia txirned to address the 
 countess, hastily retreated to her own room, where, however, 
 as she sloA\ly prepared to retire to rest, she could not prevent 
 her mind from wandering, -with many strange surmises, to the 
 subject of Lady Dajdsford's interview -with Tracy. 
 
 On the morning after this occvaxenco the countess kept her
 
 LILLIAS DAVENAXT. 65 
 
 chamber aa usual, and Lillias, -n-ho to avoid further im])erti- 
 nent letters from her uncle had determined to quit Beech- 
 p;rove on that day, rej)au'ed to Lady Daylsford's chamber to 
 bid her farewell. The countess was still m her bed, looking 
 ghastly pale, and altogether, according to appearances, in 
 worse health than she had been since the accident to her foot. 
 Her eyes were sunk, her voice was hoUow, and an occasional 
 tremor shook her frame. To Lillias, who herself was subjected 
 to the mysterious inllueuce of Trac3% these signs were signi- 
 ficant ; and she thought that whatever might have been the 
 errors of the countess the punishment was probably more 
 severe than cither her mental or bodily strengtli coidd bear. 
 The compassion Avhich she felt for the countess sjioke in the 
 gentle tones and pitying glances of Lillias, but the caUous 
 heart of Lady Daylsford, wholly wrapt in her first deep sense 
 of sufiering, had uo charity for the drear i)Osition of the 
 ori)han girl. 
 
 On parting with Lady Emily, Lillias was compelled, though 
 unwillingly, to give the address of Sir Gabriel, in Portman- 
 square, as that of the relation with whom she was going to 
 reside. Poor Lilhas ! she was yet veiy young in the world ; 
 and she did not mention that she was to dwell in the house 
 of her uncle as a governess, that office more miserable and 
 more degrading than that of the lowest menial, for the house- 
 maid, the very sculhon even, if iU-used, can seek and obtain 
 fresh employment ; on the other hand, the unhappy governess, 
 wlio of necessity must be a being whose feelings have been 
 refined by a superior education, is the butt whom every jjerson 
 that crosses the threshold of the house may insult at pleasure, 
 whether it be an evil-conditioned child or an illiterate mother 
 refusing to beheve that her offspring can do wrong, and, 
 besides, willing to exercise a vidgar authority over a member 
 of her own sex, and of whose beauty or accomi)lishments she at 
 heart envies ; and last, though bj^ no means least, those 
 advances not to be mentioned to which the young and unpro- 
 tected governess is too frequently exposed from the dissohite 
 master of the house, or his unscrupulous guests, who, seeing 
 how very deplorable her life is, may be pleased to assume 
 that she must be wilhng to escape from it on any terms. In 
 the generally very excellent Journal of the Messrs. Chambers, 
 y^e once saw a recommendation to novehsts, as a real novelty , 
 to introduce a governess perfectly well treated and satisfied 
 Avith her situation. We cannot, liowever, sui)pose tliat those 
 utihtarian \\Titers meant to suggest, for the material of a 
 novel, characters and events absolutely unnatural ; and we 
 beg leave to say that the skeleton ghost of the "Castle of 
 Otranto" is a character not more out of nature than a really 
 well-used and well-satisfied governess. In famihes of rank, 
 
 F
 
 66 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 of course, tlie ftrossness of ill-usage, above alluded to, is not 
 encountered ; but then the instructress is absolutely impri- 
 soned iu the school-room, seeing no one save her pui^ils and 
 the servants appointed to attend on them ; and the continual 
 society of children only, even though they may be little lords 
 and ladies, is not such as refined and highly-educated women, 
 ■woiUd Avisii always to be confined to, leaving apart the didl 
 wearj' hours of evening sohtude after her pupils have retired 
 to rest. It was only, however, in generahties that Lilhas 
 knew tlie wretchedness of a governess's life ; for, gi-eat as had 
 been Mrs. Davenant's own sufiermgs in that capacity, her 
 excellent good sense had alwaj's prevented her dwelling on 
 them in the presence of her daughters, who, after their father's 
 loss of fortune, she sadly a^jprehended might possibly be 
 compelled, at some i^eriod of their hves, to adopt the same 
 employment. But the pride of Lillias, that great foible which 
 was yet, in her course tlu-ough hfe, to be at once her bane 
 and her defence ; her pride it was which had prevented her 
 mentioning either to Lady Emily or her bi'other the real 
 footing on which she was to enter the house of Sir Gabriel ; 
 for instinctively LiUias felt, that though the office of a 
 governess was not naturally a menial one, her purse-proud 
 iincle and his family would compel her to feel it as such among 
 them. 
 
 Wliat deceptions does the world force even upon the na- 
 turally candid and generous ; how soon does it canker the 
 l^urity of a fresh young heart. Lord Langley, alas ! had been 
 too long schooled in its deceits ; it sat but lightly upon his con- 
 science, that he had beguiled LiUias with professions of love 
 due only to her cousin ; for successful as he had hitherto been 
 in such arts, he feared not but that he should be able to exciise 
 himself ia her eyes, even when she shoidd learn his contract 
 with Genevieve ; and when as a matter of necessity, fearing 
 that tlie family would be mentioned by LiUias, he named to 
 Lady EmUy the young girl's connexion "v^ ith the MUlmaus, 
 the scornful air with wliich his sister declared that if he wished 
 his engagements with that Ulustrious race to be made known to 
 Miss Davenant, he must cA'en n^ention them hunself, assured 
 liim against LiUias being too hastUy informed of a matter 
 which he Avislicd to the latest moment concealed from her. 
 Deception, however, was not yet so easily endiu-ed by LiUias ; 
 and while her ])ride forbade her to declare her true position, 
 it yet rebelled both at the concealment of that, and at the hu- 
 miliation attendant upon accepting secretly Lord Langley's pro- 
 fessions of love. With a heavy heart, then, and a dispirited 
 mind, it was that she stepped into the carriage that was to 
 convey her back to St. Mary's Vale, nor was little Alice much
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 67 
 
 more cheerful, for the i3orrows of her family had cndoTrecl her 
 with a ijower of reflection beyond her years ; and not only did 
 she slirink from exchanging the luxuries and splendour of 
 Beechgrove for the narrow hmits and now iitter desolation of 
 the cottage, but she was also too sensible that a .^-et more dis- 
 agreeable if not more melancholy change must follow, that the 
 abode of herself and Lillias, in the dw eiliug of theu* rich imcle, 
 was likely to be very miserable indeed. 
 
 The old nurse had remained at the cottage during the visit 
 of the two girls to Beechgrove, to take care of the dwellmg. 
 By the advice, too, of Mr. Hanway, though with some violence 
 to her own feelings, Lillias had resolved ui^on selhng the fur- 
 uitm'e, with the exception of a few articles endeared by early 
 association, and of which Mr. Hanway had promised to take 
 charge. It Avas a melancholy task for Lilhas, on the evenmg 
 of her return, to traverse the desolate rooms, and ])ut aside 
 these articles, the chief of which were the wi"iting-desk of her 
 father ; her mother's she had herself used since Mrs. Dave- 
 naut's death ; a small book-case, filled with the few books 
 which Mr. Daveuant's fallen fortunes had permitted him to 
 keep as the rehcs of his once splendid hbrary ; the bed on 
 which he died ; and an old easy-chair, in which he had been 
 accustomed to reeUne dm-ing the weary hours of his long 
 illness. Having put apart these things, the next mournfiil 
 office of Lilhas was to Aasit the apartment in wliich the coffin 
 had stood, for there hung the ijortraits of both her i)arents. 
 She had not entered that room smce the day of the funeral, 
 and all the poignancy of grief, which the lapse of the last few 
 days had in some slight measure softened, again revived, as she 
 laid her hand ui)Ou the door. The pale rays of the sim in the 
 end of October were sinking slowly in the west as Lilhas 
 entered this room, and a long line of sickly hght fell chrectly 
 across the centre, where the tressels had been i)laced, and just 
 there lay two or tlu-ee black nails, and a smaU quantity of saw- 
 dust. Lillias shuddered as these seemingly trivial objects, 
 which had in fact so mournful a significance, caught her eye, 
 and stepped towards a A\indow. Below stretched tlie vaUey, 
 and the blue lake ; but as the autumnal vapomvs rolled hea\-iiy 
 along, they hid the verdant bank, and sparkUng waters, which 
 in sulnmer were so lovel}% while everywhere the black and leaf- 
 less boughs waved mournfully m the chill gale. Lillias stood List- 
 lessly for a few nunutes at the %Aindow watcliing the searedleaves 
 whirl across the once neatly-swept paths of the garden ; for to 
 keep that in order had been, while his health pemiitted, Mr. 
 Daveuant's pecidiar care. " Withered, passed away, even 
 like an autumn leaf!" murmured Lilhas. " Oh, my father, my 
 mother ! are you both lost to me ? shall I never, never see you 
 
 r 2
 
 68 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 more ?" She turned from the wmdow uuable to control her 
 grief ; then she raised her tearful eyes to the portraits of her 
 parents, and there the last svmbeam lingered brightly hke a 
 halo, lighting up their features, as she fondly thought, with an 
 expression of tenderness and peace. " Ah !" she then ex- 
 claimed, "this sorrow is very selfish, the world was indeed 
 hard and cruel to them Ijoth ; and shall I ever forget that the 
 dead are but lost to us for a time, that though this poor frail 
 body sink to decay, even like the seared leaf of autumn, that 
 there is a spring beyond the gi'ave, where the imperishable 
 spirit shall rejoice hi an eternal youth." 
 
 "N^'ith the violence of her grief soothed by serious thoughts, 
 Lilhas loosed the jiortraits from the wall, and reverentially 
 kissing them, proceeded to pack them carefully up, in order to 
 be conveyed with the fiuniitiu-e to Mr. Hanway's, after she had 
 departed for London on the mon-ow ; for the kind surgeon and 
 his ^ife, thmking thereby to share the feehngs of the orphan 
 gu'l, had offered to superintend the sale, and forward to her 
 the proceeds. 
 
 LiUias had then scarce completed the packing of the por- 
 traits, when she was informed by the nurse, that there was a 
 gentleman waiting to see her in the parlour below, and on her 
 inquiring in some confusion and a deepened colour, whether 
 it was Lord Langlej', she was informed by the nurse that the 
 gentleman was a stranger, unknown both to her and to Miss 
 Alice ; " but he told me to give you this card, miss," concluded 
 the niu'se, handing one, on which was neatly engraved the 
 name of "' Mr. Eustace Vere." 
 
 Thinkuig this person probably brought some message from 
 Lady Emily at Beechgrove, or from Sir. Hanw"ay, respecting 
 the sale, LiUias hastened down stairs, where she found her 
 sister with an aspect of mingled awe and cm'iosity, but A%ith no 
 great amoiuit of politeness, gazing at a gentleman who ■was 
 leaning agamst the embrasm-e of a window, and whose hand- 
 some but dark and gi-ave features had by no means impressed 
 little ^Vhce with an equal amount of admiration with that 
 which she avoided for the elegant and fascinating Lord Langlej'. 
 
 The lofty courtesy of the stranger's manners, too, was not 
 lessened when he presented to Lilhas a letter, in the super- 
 scription of wliich she recognised the ■m'iting of her alreadj'' 
 almost dreaded i)rotector, Tracy. 
 
 " You are acquainted with Mr. Tracy then, sir !" said 
 Lillias, addj'cssing !luista(,'e Vere, after having, according to lus 
 request, peioised the letter, in which slie was informed by 
 Tracy that matters of high importance requh'iug his stay for a 
 few days longer liis stay in Derbyshire, he had deputed his 
 friend, Mr. Vere, to accompany Lillias and her sister on their 
 journey to London.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 69 
 
 Eustace slightly coloured at the .young ghl's question, pos- 
 sibly he thought that she might be so far acfiuaintecl with 
 Tracy and his modes of life, as to look with a doubtful eye 
 upon all who seemed closel.y connected with him. 
 
 " I have seen Mr. Tracy but once," he re])lied, '' and that is 
 some months since, though I am bound to add, that but lately, 
 through the medium of a mutual friend, he rendered me a 
 great ser\nce, one which is but very poorly returned by the 
 shght task of defending you and your sister, Miss Davenant, 
 from any httle disagi-eeable you might possibly encounter hi 
 pursuing your journey to London alone." 
 
 While Vere spoke thus, Lillias, with her heart quite secui'ed 
 by her partiahty for Lord Langley, yet could not fail to remark 
 tliat this sti-anger, de])uted to be her protector by Tracy, was a 
 yoimg and veiy handsome man ; and it would have delighted 
 the most prudent and austere person m the world to obseiwe 
 how verv" much more cautious she was of Mr. Vere's acquaint- 
 anceship than she had been of the young nobleman's. 
 
 " Mr. Tracy is very kind," she began, " but, iudeed, he is 
 too anxious ; Ahce and I can travel very safely by ourselves ; 
 there is no reason we should trouble you, Mr. Vere." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Davenant! I am quite aware the office of a knight- 
 errant is superseded in these matter-of-fact raUroad days," 
 returned Eustace ; " but, at the same time, it is, I assure you, 
 sufficiently unpleasant for yomig ladies to travel alone, and I 
 hope you will not refuse me the office Mr. Tracy has done me 
 the favour to bestow." 
 
 "But my friends here, and my uncle in to^\Ti," murmured 
 LUhas, with some hesitation, fearing to offend a person who 
 was proffering her a courtesy—" I know not, Mr. A' ere, 
 whether you have been told that they are not aware of the 
 friendship of Mr. Tracy, and as they all expect me to travel 
 alone, I shoidd be at a loss to account for your accompauj-- 
 mg me." 
 
 " Be under no concern in that respect. Miss Davenant," 
 answered Eustace ; " Mr. Tracy has forgotten nothing ; and I 
 liave only to trouble you to let me know bj' what train you will 
 leave in the morning, and I will then be in waiting for you at 
 the station. And should Sir Gabriel Millm an send any i)erson 
 to meet you, there is no necessit^y that it should be known we 
 are other than casual travelling acquaintances." 
 
 To.this arrangement LiUias coidd not possibly have anything 
 to object, and as common politeness required that she shoidd 
 offer Mr. Vere some refreshment, he. on his part, made a 
 single glass of wine an excuse for prolonghig his stay for the 
 best part of an hour, during which the temis in which he 
 spoke to the sisters of their recent loss, as one with wliich he 
 could well sympathize, liaving but a few months previously
 
 70 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 siiifered in a similar manner, quite softened the heart of Alice, 
 vrho had just resolved to tell her sister, so soon as he had gone, 
 that she liked ^Ir. Vere almost as well as Lord Langley, when 
 the clattei-ing of horses' hoofs was heard, and the httle girl 
 ran to the window and eried out that the rider was Lord 
 Langley himself. Eastace Vere then rose in some haste to 
 ■withdraw ; he was, however, met on the very threshold of the 
 cottage by the young nobleman, who, after the departure of 
 Vere, pressed Lillias v^ith hiquiries as to her handsome visitor, 
 which she did not tliink exactly warranted on his part, and 
 which occasioned her a confusion to answer, which he did not 
 remark with much pleasure.
 
 LILLIA9 DAVENANT. 71 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " And 'tis my glory, though I come from the city. 
 To have their issue, whom I have undone, 
 To kneel to mine, as bond slaves." 
 
 New Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 "While, in compliance witli the request of Tracy, Eustace 
 Yere proceeded into Derbyshire, his mother's iUness suddenly 
 assumed a more serious form. The money which Eustace had 
 obtained from Sir Gabriel Millman, not only sufficed to pay 
 Mrs. Vere's rapacious landlady, but also released her from 
 various other debts which had, as usual, been the more vexa- 
 tiously pressed on accoimt of the smaUness of the amount. 
 Knowing, therefore, that his mother, to whom he was deeply 
 attached, was not only released from the torment of petty 
 creditors, but also for some time provided with money to meet 
 all her wants, Eustace had left London with a Hghter heart 
 than he had kno-Rii since his father's death ; not a little cheered, 
 too, by the hope of obtahiiug, before long, a full acquittance of 
 the many bitter wrongs which Su* Gabriel had heaped upon 
 his family. Thus, duruig the journey to London with the 
 orphan sisters, witli a mind reheved from the immediate pres- 
 sure of personal son-ow, he exerted himself so successfully to 
 banish theirs that little Alice began to think him almost as 
 amiable as Lord Langley. 
 
 This unwonted cheerfulness of Eustace woidd, however, 
 have been veiy cpiickly dispelled, had he known that his 
 mother was then suffering imder the access of a nervous fever, 
 wliich renderecl her partially delirious. It reqiiires a very 
 strong constitution long to resist continual anxiety of mind. 
 Yet, for a time, the veiy intensity of this mental suffei-ing will 
 prevent the body from sinking; there are circumstances so 
 cruel, and so exactmg, that even the delicate of frame have not, 
 as it were, leisure to be ill ; and thus had it been with Mrs. 
 Vere. The veiy consciousness, perhaps, that her son had 
 not the pecuniary means to meet the exigencies of her illness, 
 had enabled her for a space to resist its attacks, and when 
 Eustace had left town, and it was no longer necessary to 
 deceive hun as to the extent of her suffering, by rising from 
 her bed with a swunming brain and aching hmbs, the temporarj' 
 release from uiental pain made her fully sensible of her bodily
 
 72 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 auguisli, aud she .yielded to the persuasions of Mrs. Jenkins, 
 •nhom the payment of her debt had soothed with marvellous 
 civilitj', and sent for medical ad\'it'e. 
 
 The gentleman -who was called in to attend her found Mrs. 
 Vere so yer>- ill, that he inqiiired whether she had not any rela- 
 tion residing with her ; and was more concerned than he chose 
 to say when told that her son, the only person for whose pre- 
 sence she was anxious, was absent from London, and gone she 
 herself knew not where : for Eustace, in comphance with the 
 commands of the always mysterious Tracy, had not mentioned 
 the roiite or purpose of his journey, telling his mother only that 
 he shoidd be home in a couple of days. 
 
 The apprehensions of Mr. Fulhard, the medical man, were 
 vei-ified, and before night Mrs. Vere was in a high state of deh- 
 rium. a calamity for her which was by no means displeasing 
 to Mrs. Jenkins, who, taking ui^on herself the oiBce of nurse, 
 and possession of as much money as she found in Mrs. Vere's 
 desk, wliich she hesitated not to open, fehcitated herself on the 
 absence of Eustace, which she hoped most sincerely if not de- 
 voutly, would last for some time : in which case she determined 
 that the illness of Mrs. Vere should cost at least the twenty- 
 pounds of which she had taken possession. Yery quickly too, did 
 Afrs. Jenkins fill the lady's room with all the delicacies required 
 rather for the convalescent than the sick. A store of biscuits, 
 oranges, and jellies did she purchase, such as might better have 
 suited the appetite of half-a-dozen school- boys than one 
 nervous lady ; a large fowl to make broth, as she said, for Mrs. 
 ^^ere's use the next day. and which furnished herself and her 
 husband with a capital dinner ; the day it was purchased a 
 bottleof port wine and another of brandy, which last, she very can- 
 didly avowed, was for lier own use. " For," she said to her hus- 
 band, " it is tiresome work, you knows, Villiam, a-sitting up in a 
 sick room and attending to sick people, and nurses is such dis- 
 res]iectable cheating folks ; and what pickings is to be had out 
 of the Veres, surely I has aright to, considering they owed me 
 money so long." 
 
 The cares of her landlady, however, in providing so great a 
 store of provisions, wore wholly useless to Mrs. Vere, whose 
 fever inci-eased to so alarming a degi'ee, tliat before night she, 
 was dehrious. To give Mrs. Jenkms her due, she was not alto- 
 gether a bad nurse, and knew a vast deal better than to disobey 
 the doctor's orders by giving a single teaspoonful of anything 
 stronger than treacle-water to the patient, whose thirst was 
 excessive. I'owards evening Mrs. Corbett, the wife of the me- 
 chanic who lived opposite, and v.]\o had observed the chaise of 
 the medical man at the door, sent over her eldest daughter to 
 inquire who was ill, apprehending indeed that it was the poor
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 73 
 
 laJy wLo lived ia the first floor. In addition to her other 
 amiable qulities, Mrs. Jenkins was a great boaster and an inve- 
 terate gossip, and did not therefore fail to dilate at length upon 
 the afFau's of Mrs. Vere, as far as they had come to her know- 
 ledge, and her own exceeding kindness to a lodger who was 
 very poor, and had been in great arrears for rent. 
 
 " Lord, my dear !" concluded the woman to Lucy Corbett ; 
 " I would not teU you what I have done for that woman ;" she 
 perhaps would have hesitated, in spite of her impudence, to say 
 all that she had done, but she repeated the sentence two or 
 three times ; " I wouldn't tell you what I have done, but then, 
 you see, Mrs. Vere and her son is rale gentlefolks — that I must 
 say for 'em, and has been very misfortimate ; and people what 
 has a deal of feehng, which is my fault, why they cannot bear to 
 see the hkes of such people in want, though I mjures myself by 
 it, I know I does. But have a drop of simimut before you go, 
 my dear," continued Mrs. Jenkins, as Lucy Corbett, who had no 
 time to spare, was moving towards the door. " A glass of wuie 
 now — I have got it at hand here — or a leetle drop of brand.y-and- 
 water ; I always keeps such things by me, 'cause you see as I has 
 no children I can afford a few little comforts for myself what it 
 wouldn't be honest for a woman -n-ith a lot of yoimg 'uns to ven- 
 ture on. I am sure your poor mother's case goes to my heart ; 
 I often says to my husband, I do wonder how Mr. and Mrs. 
 Corbett can find bread for aU them cliildren !" 
 
 " We have never wanted bread yet, ma'am," repUed Lucy, 
 the colour rising high in her pretty, but usually pale face ; " my 
 father works very hard, and if my mother cannot earn money, 
 she can save it ; and besides that, we are none of us idle ; my 
 brother James is gouig to work with father soon, and I hope I 
 shall be able to do something." 
 
 " Ah ! I thought j^ou went out to work," said Mrs. Jenkins, 
 rejoicing in the chance which Mrs. Vere's ilhiess had given her 
 to learn all the concerns of the Corbetts. "What is it j'ou does, 
 now?" 
 
 " My father has apprenticed me to a milliner, ma'am," returned 
 Lucy, offended by the freedom of the inquirj' ; but with the 
 timidity of youth hesitating either not to reply, or to resent the 
 impertinence. 
 
 " Deary me !" said Mrs. Jenkins ; " I thinks you had much bet- 
 ter have been a servant." 
 
 _" My parents did not think so, ma'am," said Lucy, with more 
 spirit. 
 
 " Oh, don't go for to be offended, now," cried Mrs. Jenkins, 
 whose spite was gi*atified by perceiving that she had wounded 
 the young girl's feelings. " You must not be offended with an.y- 
 thing I says, I am a plain-spoken woman, and mean aU for the
 
 74 LILLIAS DAVEJTANT. 
 
 best ; I dare say your fatlier knows his o-vm business best, but 
 I should have thought a mechanic could hardly have saved up 
 money enough to have paid a premium with you, specially to a 
 good house. VMiere is it you works ?" 
 
 '■ In Eegent-sti'eet, ma'am," said Lucy, whose courage was 
 not equal to evading Mrs. Jenkins' direct inqidries. 
 
 " In Regent-street; ah! I suppose he paid a lot of money." 
 
 "I cannot tell you how much, Mrs. Jenkins," answered 
 Lucy. " My father has always told me I am not to talk about 
 such matters of business." 
 
 " Oh, bless jae !" cried Mrs. Jenkins with a toss of the head, 
 " I am sure I don't want to know ; but it is a sad hard hfe 
 before you, my dear — we know what milliner gals is, specially 
 at j'our West End houses, when the nobUitj' is in town — two or 
 tliree thousand gaLs killed up in a season, working night and 
 da.y, till their eyes is ready to drop from their heads, and their 
 fingers worn to the bone. It is a pity I must bring to my mind 
 that j-our father did not spend his money for yon in some other 
 way." 
 
 It is possible that poor Lucy felt there was too much truth 
 mixed -ndth the mahce of Mrs. Jenkins' remarks, for she only 
 cast down her eyes, and uttered a deep sigh, as folding her 
 shawl round her, she again moved towarcls the door of the weU- 
 furnished parlour in which the conversation had takeu place. 
 
 " JSow, pray don't be in such a hurrj-. Miss Corbett," said 
 the woman, taking from a closet the wine of which she had 
 spoken ; "I am sure a drop of this will do you good, and you 
 must keep up your spirits ; who knows, perhaps, you may be 
 one of the lucky ones : it isn't aU milhners what dies of con- 
 sumption and overwork ; and may be you'll have a fine shop of 
 your own some day, or some smart feller ^^"ith plenty of money 
 in his pocket ; there's lots of them at the West End may take 
 a fancy to you, for you are a pretty girl, and then you know 
 j'ou might have done with work altogether ; come, now, you 
 must wish yourself such luck as that in this old wine." 
 
 " I thank you, ma'am," answered Lucy, " but I never drink 
 wine." 
 
 " Nonsense, child ! it will do you good," said the woman, 
 forcing the beverage on the young girl, who then took her 
 leave, after delivering a message from her mother offering to 
 accompany Mrs. Jenkins in her watch over the sick lady at 
 night ; " for I," said Lucy, " am going to sleep at home, and 
 father will be out till twelve o'clock, so that I can put the 
 children to bed, and mother very well be for a few hours with 
 you." 
 
 This very kind offer from Mrs. Corbett, who was herself in 
 deUcatc health, Mrs. Jenkins thought proper, for her own rea-
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 75 
 
 sons, to decline, adding;, however, that she shoidd be verj" glad 
 if Mrs. Corbett vrould be a httle more neighbourly, and come 
 over now and then to take a quiet cup of tea. 
 
 As soon as Lucy had taken her departiu-e, Mrs. Jenkins 
 repau'ed to the chamber of the sick lady, whom she found toss- 
 ing and moaning in the restless uneasy slumber of a cUsordered 
 frame. 
 
 It was now about half-past eight o'clock, and having dis- 
 posed, as she imagined, of the threatened visit of Mrs. Corbett, 
 the landlady addressed herself to an excellent supper, and 
 then took her station by the side of the invaUd, with a strong 
 glass of brandy-aud-water on the table before her. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins had not sat thus long before her thoughts fell, 
 not unnaturally, on the position and circimistances of the 
 mvahd, who lay on the bed, gasping in her uneasy slumber. 
 Now, in addition to the many offences which Mrs. Vere had 
 committed against her landlady, not the least in that person's 
 estunation was the distance at which she had been held, and 
 her ignorance of her lodger's private affairs. 
 
 " I should like wondrous to know all about who these people 
 is," muttered Mrs. Jenkins, as she emptied her glass of brandj'- 
 and- water. " I cannot say as I think there is any real good 
 about folks which are so cautious to hide everything ! _ I 
 dare say now, as those letters what I saw Mrs. Vere crying 
 over, and as she keeps in the little rosewood box, might tell me 
 a deal. I'll have a look at them : I daresay I shall find the key 
 somewheres, and I think it is quite right, as people should 
 know what people is as lodges with them." 
 
 This little rosewood box, to which Mrs. Jenkins alluded, 
 stood in Mrs. Yere's sitting room, and a door, very conveniently 
 for the landlady's pui-pose, opened from the bedchamber to the 
 other aiiai-tment, so that she woidd i)ursue her search without 
 fear of detection, and yet keep an eye upon the couch of the 
 invalid. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins, Kke most persons of her class, never lost time 
 in deliberation ; to resolve, was with her to execute ; and first 
 lookmg in the desk which, as she conjectured, contained the 
 key of the rosewood box, she was presently emploj-ed in ran- 
 sacking the contents of the latter. These, however, did not at 
 the first glance seem likely to satisfy her chshonest curiositj', 
 for at the top of the box lay only a couple of letters, so worn, 
 and with the ink turned so pale by the lapse of time, that, as 
 Mrs. Jenkins was not in the habit of receiving much epistolaiy 
 coiTespondence, they quite defied her attempts to decipher them. 
 Beneath these letters was a blank paper, containing a long tress 
 of silky brown hair — hair of that rich delicate brown which 
 shines as if it had caught a glow from the sunbeam, and which,
 
 76 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 even in tlie pale light of tlie caudle, glistened and twisted into 
 curls as the woman pressed it between her fingers. 
 
 " I wonder whose hair that could have been," she muttered, 
 as she replaced it in the paper ; " not a sister of Mrs. Vere's, I 
 reckon, 'cause her hair is quite black." 
 
 On examining the enclosure again, however, Mrs. Jenkins 
 found traced upon it, in pale feeble characters, the name of 
 " Mabel." StUl continuing her mvestigation of the contents of 
 the box, she next drew forth a costly veil of the finest Brussels 
 lace ; it might, perhaps, in its time, have decorated the head of 
 a bride, since beneath it Mrs. Jenkins discovered a wreath of 
 white roses, and a wedding ring. 
 
 The veil itself, however, fastened her attention. " Patience !" 
 she cried, holding u]} the frail, but rich garment to the light ; 
 " real Brussels, I declare ; I know the valley of these here 
 things, since I was a clear-starcher. To think," now, that Mrs. 
 Vere should have such a thing, and owe me the money she did. 
 She might have got five or six pounds for it any time, and not 
 a quarter of the price she must have paid for it then. I never 
 seed such a veil ; foui- yards long, if it's an inch !" 
 
 In the expectation that other articles of value were to be 
 found in the box wliich had contained tins splendid veil, Mrs. 
 Jenkins resumed her examination. It was, however, the re- 
 pository of nothing more save a letter, which, from the fresh- 
 ness of the superscription " To Mrs. Vere," was evidently of 
 much later date than those which the landlady had previously 
 examined. 
 
 Without any scruple of conscience, then, did Mrs. Jenkins 
 begin to devour the contents of tliis epistle, in the course of 
 which she suddenly came upon a revelation so strange and 
 appalling, that she dropped the letter, exclaiming, "What a 
 pity Mrs. Vere is so proud, to be siu-e she must have had her 
 troubles ; I wonders only she is not stark mad !" 
 
 •r^ 'te -ff '■ff ^ 
 
 At the very time when Mrs. Jenkins was so laudably en- 
 gaged in making herself acquamted with the most sacred affairs 
 of lier lodger, the train wliich conveyed Eustace Vere, with 
 LiUias and her sister, to London, arrived at the Euston Square 
 station. The party had hardly entered the waiting-room when 
 a footman in a gaudy Hvery of amber colour and silver, and a 
 broad-shouldered mechanic in a fustian dress, simidtaneously 
 accosted them. 
 
 "You are the Miss Davenants, young ladies, I suppose?" 
 said the footman, touching his hat, as he cast his eyes from the 
 trunks, which a porter had just placed by LUhas, to the faces 
 of herself and her sister. 
 
 " My name is Davenant," answered LiUias.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 77 
 
 " "We have a carriage waiting then, Miss," returned the man, 
 " and pei-haps you \^•lll come at once, as we have a gi-and 
 ball at home, and Sir Gabriel bid us be quick." 
 
 Lilhas turned to make her adieu to Eustace Vere, and then 
 caught the last words addressed to liim by the mechanic, " Lord, 
 sir ! I am quite glad I chanced to be here to-night ; you wiU 
 make haste home, for I knoM* from what my missus said, your 
 lioor mother is very ill." 
 
 " I am sorry- to hear that madam is ill, sir," said the footman, 
 raising his hat as he spoke to Eustace ; but then, as he hiuTied 
 the sisters away, he whispered to Lilhas— 
 
 " Excuse my freedom. Miss, but don't you let master know 
 as you travelled along with Mr. A^crc."
 
 78 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Spare not for cost, but let my dressers crack 
 With the weight of curious viands, and let no plate 
 Be seen but what's pure gold." 
 
 New Way to Paij Old Debts. 
 
 The recommenclatiou that the footman had ventui-ed to offer, 
 and the earnestness with which he had hurried Lilhas and her 
 sister to the carriage which was in waiting, thereby ahridgiug 
 ]ier leavetaking of Eustace Vere, by no means raised in their 
 minds any agi-eeable anticipation as to their reception in the 
 house of Su" GabrieL 
 
 Meantune, the sisters were ignorant that a new honour was 
 l^kishing on their upstart relative, who, in the effervescence of 
 his vidgar pride, had especially fixed on the day of their arrival 
 for the celebration of his triumph. 
 
 There were certain i^ohticians who, able from their x^ositions 
 to foretel the rise and fall of the money market, had found Sir 
 Gabriel a very useful man, he being ever ready to act for them 
 in transactions where they could not openly appear, while, of 
 course, he secured his own proht also from the information 
 which they gave. The mere pecuniary advantage, however, 
 AA'hich he thus gained, did not seem either to Sir Gabriel or his 
 friends a sufficient reward for liis services, now that his 
 approaching connexion with a liigh aristocratic family began 
 to he noised abroad ; and accordingly the city knight was 
 created a baronet ; and this new distmction was celebrated by 
 a splendid diniler, to be followed by a ball in the evening ; at 
 Avliicli ball, without any regard for her late fatigue of travelling, 
 or tlie depressed spirits likely as a consequence of her fsither's 
 recent death, Sir Gabriel had, before her arrival, determined 
 that Ids niece Lillias should a])]iear. This arrangement of the 
 new baronet had been slightly opposed by his wife, and from 
 the influence of a mLxcd feeling, as, in the first place, the spirit 
 of petty tj'ranny liad dctcrmbied her to treat Lillias as a gover- 
 ness only, and, tlierefore, to exclude her from aJl the abundant 
 gaiety of whicli the liouse of lier uncle was the scene, and in the 
 second, she was actuated by a more jiraisewortliy motive, and 
 really thought as she said, that the orphan woidd be too 
 fatigued and melanclioly to appear in company on that night.
 
 LIILIAS DAVENANT. 79 
 
 Lady Millman, though a very vulgar and totally uneducated 
 woman, was not without a tolerable share of shrewdness and 
 common sense, and as she was thus thorouglJy acquainted with 
 the character of her husband, she was at no loss to i^enetrate 
 his design with regard to his nieces, or perceive tliat malice to- 
 wards their deceased father actuated much of his conduct. 
 
 The single good trait in Su' Gabriel MiUinan was his attach- 
 ment to his eldest daughter ; but if tlie faUings of the good 
 fiometimes " lean to Virtue's side," so also do even the better 
 qualities of the -wicked tend to \ace ; and parental aiFectiou in 
 Sir Gabriel was selfish and unjust ; he would have hesitated 
 not to plmige a hundi-ed famUies iu rain, could he thereb.v have 
 secured the weU-being of his own. His affection for his children 
 even was but another mode of his intense and reckless selfish- 
 ness. This affection too was most strongly manifested towards 
 Genevieve, and though the fortune of his second wife had reaUy 
 been one foimclation of his prosi)erity, now that it had been sunk 
 into insignificance by his own enormous gains, he regarded the 
 hiterests of her cliildren, much less than those of the daughter 
 of the woman whom his cruel treatment had laid in an early 
 grave. Tliis imdue preference for Genevieve not unnaturally 
 roused a bitter resentment in Lady IMillman, and had not the 
 disposition of the young girl been both meek and affectionate, 
 the harsh treatment of her step-mother, and the unboimded 
 indulgence of her father, must have produced very bad effects 
 indeed. The pride, however, if not the affection of Sir Gabriel, 
 oiierated more or less for aU his children ; and as he was con- 
 scious that in the building of his fortunes, he had owed much 
 to the clear though worse mind of his present wife, he thought 
 the fittest gi'atitvide he could possibly show, consisted in allow- 
 ing her an almost unlimited command of money, of wliich, in 
 her tm-n. Lady Millman availed herself in behalf of her chilth'en, 
 whom she indulged with every luxiuy that gold would buy, or 
 they could fancy : and the eldest of her family being a son 
 whose fancy had lately led him to the gaming-table, his mother's 
 drafts had almost exhausted the patience, if not the purse of 
 Sir Gabriel. 
 
 Influenced therefore by certaui late domestic broils, on the 
 never-failing subject of money, and no less so by her strong 
 aversion to her step-daughter, Lady Millman had, in the first 
 instance taken a dislike to the Davenants merely because they 
 were, as she termed it, "jjatronised by Gene-vieve." A little 
 reflection, however, sei-ved to show her that the matter had 
 two aspects ; for Lady MUlman, though herself without educa- 
 tion or accomphshments, was fully sensible of their high advan- 
 tages; and hearing tlm^ Lillias P-"cnant was possessed of 
 both, she not only there bj' promised herself much profit to her
 
 80 LILLIAS DATENANT. 
 
 OTTU daughters, but pleased herself vrith. the idea, that since 
 Sir Gabriel would introduce his niece to con^pany, she would 
 sometimes echpse his favourite Genevieye, in whose humiliation 
 Lady Milhnan was at all times prepared to rejoice. 
 
 i\Ieanwhile, it was with a heavy heart that Lillias found that 
 as her uncle's carriage entered Portman-square, it became mixed 
 with a crowd of others proceeding in the same direction ; and 
 Avhen it at length stopped before Sir Gabriel's mansion, and 
 she perceived ladies in full dress proceeding through the illumi- 
 nated hall, she drew her veil over her face and whispered Alice, 
 as the footman let down the steps, that she should ask at once 
 to be shown to her bed-room. 
 
 At the moment that Lillias crossed the threshold of Sir Ga- 
 briel's house, a tall, fashionable-looking young man, one of the 
 guests of the evening, had paused there to give some directions 
 to his servant as to the hour in which his carriage was to be in 
 waiting. The figiires of the two girls, in their deep mourning 
 costume.with the tkick veils, and large shawls that they had worn 
 m travelling, contrasted sadly ■H"ith the gay dresses of the ladiea 
 who yet lingered on the staircase, and the gentleman before 
 alluded to, catching a glimpse of the pretty pale face of Alice, 
 wlio had not like her sister had the precaution to draw down 
 her ved., gazed at her and LiUias with an earnestness not alto- 
 gether polite. One of the many servants, however, who were 
 waiting in the hall, stepped forward the moment the two girls 
 appeared, and ushered them through various apartments to the 
 left of the hall, till they entered one where the tumult that 
 reigned in the other parts of the house, subsided into a low buzz. 
 A table in the centre of this room was spread with refreshments, 
 consisting chiefly of cold fowls, tongue, pastrj- and wine ; but on 
 Lillias requesting a cup of coffee or tea, the man said that he 
 would send Mrs. Edmonds the housekeeper to the young ladies, 
 "though," he added, "I dare say my lady herself, or Miss 
 Genevieve, will be down presently, as thej^ were to be told as 
 soon as you came !" 
 
 According to the ijromise of the sen^ant, Mrs. Edmonds, a 
 stately -looking dame, attired in brown sdk, presently made her 
 appearance, preceded by a maid bearing a tray -with the mate- 
 rials for tea, a refreshment very welcome to Ldlias, Avho was 
 wearied and faint with her journey, and besides suffering under 
 a severe headache. Gladly, too, when the housekeeper with- 
 drew, did the two girls draw near the large fire, nor did it 
 escape the observation of Alice, that the table appointments of 
 silver and porcelain, i^ere apparently' not inferior in value, as 
 they certainly were not in beauty, to anything that she had seen 
 at Beechgrove. The night had set in somewhat stormy, and 
 Alice, as she heard the raui beating against the window, drew
 
 LILL1A9 DAVENANT. 81 
 
 back the ciirtam of crimson satin damask that hnnjv over it, to 
 ascertain what was the x^rosxiect at the back of the house. The 
 window, however, only overlooked a kind of paved court, alonjO^ 
 one side of which was a covered way, leading to that i)ortion of 
 the building which was i)rincipally apportioned into sleeping 
 chambers for the sen^ants. The blackness of the night, how- 
 ever, had fallen upon the court, and Alice coidd see only the 
 dark walls, glooming dai'kly through the driving rain. From 
 this contemplation she was aroused hy the fretfid voices of some 
 childi'en, who were apparently endeavoimng to open a door 
 opposite to that by which she and LiUias had been ushered 
 into the room. " I will go ui ! I want to see the new gover- 
 ness !" cried one voice. "You are not to go in, Miss : you must 
 come to bed," rephed another ; and then it seemed as if the 
 sei-vant who had spoken was tr^ong to force the child away 
 from the door. " Never mmd her, Ada!" said the rougher 
 tones of a boy ; " who's she, I should like to know ? a nasty, 
 ill-tempered, old nm-se, I'll give her a kick for you 1" 
 
 It appeared by the exclamation of the nm-se, " Oh ! fie 
 Master Augustus !" and a renewed rush at the door, that the 
 yoimg gentleman had executed this amiable threat. The key 
 was then turned on the lock, and as the door bui'st open, a boy 
 and gu'l, the former about eleven, and the latter perhaps nine 
 years of age, made their appearance, pushing and struggling, 
 vrith each other to get the first look at the sisters. As the two 
 children posted themselves by the fu-e, and stared rudely in her 
 face, Lilhas thought neither theu* manners nor then* aspect were 
 favom-able for them as a specimen of her future pupils. She, 
 however, held out her hand, and spoke encouragingly to them ; 
 but little Alice, too young to disguise her feehngs, returned 
 them stare for stare, and when she saw them, without answering 
 her sister, begin scrambling at the table for the pastry, she 
 curled her hp, and muttered to herself, "How rude and ugly 
 they are !" 
 
 There was a great deal of truth in the severe words of Ahce, 
 and Lilhas quite agreed with them in thought, as she gazed 
 upon the pale but somewhat bloated features of the boy, the 
 unhealthmess of whose complexion was made more remarkable 
 by the fiery ruddiness of his coarse hair, wliich refused to yield 
 either to curling-tongs or oil. The face of the little girl was 
 also pale; and its extreme tliinness, added to the vivacity of her 
 small black eyes, endowed her aspect with an aii" both of fret- 
 fulness and ill health. The old adage, that " fine feathers make 
 fine birds," quite failed with Master Augustus MiUman and 
 his sister Ada, the fantastic gaudiness of their attire only serving 
 to make their ugliness and vulgarity more conspicuous. 
 
 A remark which she had long before heard her mother make, 
 
 G
 
 82 LILLIAS DAVEJfANT. 
 
 that tlie mind and liabits of a woman may be judged by tlie 
 iittire of lier children, rose to tlie mind of LiJlias, as sbe obscn^ed 
 the outre fashion of her cousins' garments, the superfluity of 
 gold lace upon the boy's loose jacket of Hght-blue cloth, and the 
 preponderance of yelloAv and red in the rich sdk velvet plaid 
 worn by the gud. 
 
 The nurse, a respectabledooking elderly woman, had followed 
 the children into the room, and now ventured to say, " You 
 will make yourself ill again, Master Augustus, if you eat that 
 large piece of phun-cake. Do put it down, and go and speak to 
 Miss Davenant. I wonder you are not ashamed to let her see 
 you so rude !" 
 
 "WTio cares for her? she's poor!" mumbled the urchin, with 
 his mouth full of cake ; bvit, turning a look of most ineffable 
 scorn upon Lillias, as if he was quite convhicedthe argument of 
 povertj' was conclusive against her. 
 
 " And you are an ugly, vulgar Iwj-, for all your father's 
 money, sir !" exclaimed Alice, shedding tears of anger and mor- 
 tification as she spoke ; while Lillias drew her apart, and en- 
 deavoiu-ed to show her that the insolence of a bad chdd was 
 only to be treated -with contempt ; and the nurse was loud in 
 her reproof of Augustus. 
 
 At tliis juncture the door opened, and a figure entered, the 
 fair and dehcate beauty of which seemed, to LUhas, to present 
 a reahzation of all her own most poetic dreams. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Genevieve, I am glad you are come," said the 
 nurse ; " Master Augustus has been so rude to these yoimg 
 ladies!" 
 
 " Dear cousin," said Genevieve, as embracmg Lillias she 
 drew her a little away from the children, "you wUl, I am sorry 
 to say, often hear things from the lips of my brothers and sis- 
 ters, which ^^ ill give you but a bad opinion of the mode in 
 ■\\hlch they ha\e been reared ; but let the matter rest there, and 
 do not, I iiuplore you, suffer yourself to be further disturbed 
 by it. I assure you, dear Lillias, if I permitted my own temper 
 to be ruffled by the rudeness of spoiled children, I should have 
 yet another cause of unhai)piness." 
 
 Little Alice, a\ ho, with the tears still standing in her ej'es, 
 had crept so close to Genevieve, that she caught her last words, 
 now looked wonderingly at her beautiful face and gorgeous 
 attire, and was strangely puzzled to surmise what uneasiness 
 such a favourite, both of nature and fortune, coidd possibly ex- 
 
 ferience ; and to teU the truth, the generoiis heart even of 
 iillias was, for the first time iii her life, wnmg by a momentary 
 pang of envy, as she gazed upon her cousin, and thought of her 
 own past and present sorrows. 
 Genevieve Mdhnan ever possessed, when in company with
 
 LILLIAS DAVENlNT. 83 
 
 Lord Laugley, that beauty of expression, added to correctness 
 of feature, which appeared in her countenance dm-inif? this her 
 first interview with Liliias. It is possible she might have 
 touched his heart. But unfailingly, when she was in his 
 society, had her natural timichty strengthened into absolute 
 fear, and the brilhaut Lord Langley, sensitive as he was to 
 the channs of manner, had long before set down his future 
 bride as the most soulless and insipid of beauties. Had he 
 seen her when speaking to Lilhas, he woidd scarce have reco- 
 gnised her ; those large blue eyes, which in his presence were 
 so perseveringly fixed upon the groimd, were raised to the 
 face of her oi-phan cousin, and ghsteuing with tears of tender- 
 ness and pity, while her smooth cheek had deepened to tlie 
 brightest tint of the rose. The garb, too, of Gene^deve on this 
 evening was admirably' adapted to the style of her most pm*e 
 and fragile beauty. A dress of the richest point lace was worn 
 over white satin, the ample drapery of the lace being looped 
 alternately with knots of white roses on sapphu-es and 
 diamonds ; bracelets of the same jewels, too, ghttered on her 
 rounded arms, and bound back her red.undant golden tresses 
 from a brow smooth and \vhite as Parian marble ; but little 
 did the poor Lfihas think that at the back of the diamond 
 cross which heaved upon her cousin's bosom was concealed a 
 lock of Lord Langley's hair. 
 
 The sternest philosopher might have held the desolate 
 orphan excusable for that momentary bitter feeluig when she 
 beheld the daughter of the base Sir Gabriel, glittering with 
 wealth, glowing with beauty, and then turned to look at her 
 own poor, innocent httle sister, still weeping for the insidt 
 offered to herself. A fear that the boy would be only provoked 
 to new brutaUty, by which Alice woidd be the sufferer, made 
 Liliias refrain from explaining his insolence to GeneAdeve ; but 
 the nurse, probabl.y vi ith a recollection of the kick with which 
 Master Augustus liad so lately favoured her, would tell Gene- 
 vieve what he had said ; upon which he Mas ordered to bed as 
 a present punishment, and promised by Genevieve a future one 
 at the hands of his father. This decree of Miss Millman evi- 
 dently gave great satisfaction to the nurse, who forthwith 
 hauled the young gentleman away, in spite of his struggles and 
 screams, very kindly reminding liun that his mother was at the 
 time engaged M-ith company, and would not interfere in his 
 behalf. So soon as the niu'se had removed Augustus, Gene- 
 vieve turned to Liliias, and, with some hesitation in her man- 
 uer, said that it was the wish of Sii- Gabriel that his niece 
 shoidd appear among the guests then in the house. 
 
 " I told papa that I was afraid you woidd be sadly tired, 
 dear Liliias," she said, " but he answered me that you must 
 
 g2
 
 81 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 come in, if it were but for an liour ; and you see lie will liave 
 liis own way, so much so, that he has made me get a crape ball- 
 dress from my milliner ; and if it should not quite fit .you, my 
 maid can alter it in half an hom\ So you really must trj" and 
 come in, dear Lillias, if only for a few mmutes ; and Ada will 
 take care and amuse Alice till she likes to go to bed." 
 
 Miss Ada, who was stUl engaged in her favourite entertain- 
 ment of devouring pastry, laid clown the tart she was eating, 
 and whispered something to Genevieve, who replied, " Well, 
 well, if you are a good girl, and do all you can to amvise your 
 cousin Alice." Satisfied with this promise, which released her, 
 she supposed, from school duties for the rest of the week. Miss 
 Ada invited Alice, with very good hmnoui", to come and see all 
 her doUs and i^laythings, and the little girl, though unwillingly, 
 accompanied her from the room, first, however, inqiiirmg 
 whether she might not share the bedchamber of LiUias, and 
 considerable comfort it was to both sisters to find that Lady 
 Mdhnan had ah'eadj' made arrangements to that efi"ect. 
 
 It was, however, with a sad heart that the wearied LUlias 
 accompanied Genevieve to the chamber appointed for her, to 
 change her attire. The hard experience which she had ah-eady 
 had of her imcle's character had not yet jirepared her for all 
 the forms of his ostentation or malice ; and when the elegant 
 crape dress which had been jjreiiared for her ^as exhibited, by 
 tlie waiting-maid, and Genevieve put into her hand a casket 
 containing a set of beautifid mourning ornaments, of pearls 
 and jet, her heart rej)roaehed her with having, perhaps, fonned 
 too severe a judgment. Alas ! in this seeming generosity' of 
 the new baronet there was as little real good feeling as could 
 possibly prompt the gift. Tlie truth was that a piire enry of 
 the prestige of birth and talent instigated most of Sir Gabriel's 
 bitter sneers against both ; and even while he so cordially 
 hated the Davenauts, he did not fail in his own circle to boast 
 of his connexion with them, and theu* high talents and ancient 
 family ; and especially had he dwelt upon these matters to the 
 Earl of Daylsford, whose ancestral pride, he was pretty well 
 a^^'are, was in no slight degree wounded by the proposed al- 
 liance with Genevieve. The excellent Sir Gabriel, therefore, 
 )ji'omiscd lumself an immense amount of satisfaction from the 
 arrival of liis niece, who, he expected, Mould be fairly over- 
 wlielmed by his present honours, and his daughter's prospec- 
 tive ones, while her own birth and accom])lishments wovdd, he 
 tlionght, as she was his niece, soniething improve his respecta- 
 bility in the ej'es of the earl, who, as he was detained in town 
 by tlie necessity of superintendmg the law papers with regard 
 to the approacliing man'iage, had been obliged, much against 
 his inclination, to mingle \\ith the guests of Sir Gabriel on the
 
 LILltAS CAVENANT. 85 
 
 present occasion, with one or two persons of Ms own caste to 
 relieve him from the horror of being surroimded by innume- 
 rable plebeians. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lillias, qiiite imconscions that she was the object 
 of such fine expectations on the part of her uncle, had com- 
 pleted her toilette, and stood beside her cousin, less beautifid, 
 perhaps, but more lovely. 
 
 "Lor", Miss Genevieve!" said the waiting-maid, as she 
 finished twining a string of pearls among the dark locks of Lil- 
 lias, "how your cousin does credit to her cbess ! Eeally, noAV, 
 one woiddii't tliink she was the same young lady as looked so 
 pale and spiritless like, wrapped up in that great shawl." 
 
 Poor Lillias, in spite of the sadness of her heart, smiled at 
 the remarks of the waiting-maid, and it may be owned that it 
 was with a httle gratified vanity that she cast her eyes upon 
 the large ghiss which reflected both her own figure and that of 
 her cousin, and perceived that she did not lose even by com- 
 parison with the brilliant Genevieve. The features of Lillias, 
 less perfect, were not less delicate than those of her cousin, and 
 the misfortimes of her family had given to them a constant 
 expression of gentle uu>lancholy, -oliich did not ill become the 
 pale, lofty brow, and britiht dark eyes. Her mourning attire, 
 too, conti-asted favourably with the white transparent skin, as did 
 the glistening pearls -n-itii the folds of her rich brown hair ; and 
 as she glided side by side with her cousin into the room where 
 Sir Gabriel was waiting to receive her, the same gentleman -nho 
 had so earnestly regarded her and Ahce on their arrival, tiu-n- 
 ing to the new baronet, said, with an affected air, " 'Pon 
 honour, Sir Gabriel, you and Lady Millman are foi"timate in 
 the attractions of your house. "WTiere, in the name of all that's 
 lovely, did you find the fair hly di-ooping beside that peerless 
 rose, your daughter ? Be kind, now. Sir Gabriel, and intro- 
 duce nie ; since the ciueen of flowers, Miss Millman, blossoms 
 for a more lucky man than I am, give me at least a chance AAitli 
 her companion." 
 
 " All in good time. Sir Harry Vere," rephed Sir Gabriel, 
 laughing, and hurrying forward to meet Lilhas, whose appear- 
 ance was very satisifactory to him, as she was, he thought, just 
 pretty and genteel enough to reflect credit on his house, and 
 yet not to eclipse the charais of his favourite Genevieve. Far 
 more anxious, however, had been the heart of LiUias as she 
 first glanced at her imcle, whom she had not seen since she was 
 a child, and of whose person she entertained biit a faint 
 remembrance. Sir Gabriel was not altogether an ill-looking 
 man, but the habits of his life had indued features naturally 
 inclining to harshness, with a severe expression ; the muscles 
 and hard lines of his face seemed to be cut in ii-on, his cold
 
 86 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 ^rcy eye shone with the histre of polished steel. As to his 
 attire, Sir Gabriel might have been supposed to bestow upon it 
 just as much time and thought as was perfectly becoming in a 
 jnan of his years ; he was always so far in the fashion that he 
 never was out of it ; he had, also, too much strong sense to 
 affect singtdaritN^ of di'ess, and though he knew that his riches 
 woiild have excused a slovenly costume in the eyes of others, 
 it would not have been, therefore, bearable in his own. Wicked, 
 and even in many respects ostentatious and ndgar, as Sir 
 Gabriel was, he had, nevertheless, a certain correctness of taste 
 as concerned the minor details of life, possibl.y the effect of 
 early association with his sister, a lady in thought and action. 
 Thus, while his attire was always sci-upidously neat and 
 fashionable, he never made it a means of parading his wealth, 
 exhibiting no superfluity of diamond studs, or gold chains, one 
 superb brilhant alone decorating his fmger. 
 
 The coarseness and mere brutality of mind evidenced by his 
 letters, had prepared LiUias for an exterior no less revolting 
 and coarse, and she was so agTeeably disappointed by his un- 
 pretending and almost gentlemanly appearance, as he advanced 
 to meet her, in his customary suit of solemn black, w hicli she 
 thought, alas, had perhaps been donned as a tribute of respect 
 to her father's memorj', that again she condemned herself for 
 too severe a judgment, and noticed not in the seeming kindness 
 of the smde with which he welcomed her, the sneer that lurked 
 beneath it, or the exidtation that sparkled in his eye, as it 
 glanced from her pale lirow, where, too early, care had already 
 flung a shadow, to the glowing countenance of his own beautifid 
 daughter. AU this tlien was happily unnoticed by Lillias, as 
 lier uncle drew her arm within his, and led her, followed by 
 Sir Henry Vere and Genevieve, towards the adjoining apart- 
 ment, a kind of boudoir contiguous to the great drawing-room, 
 whicli already resounded witli music and the feet of the dancers. 
 
 " It was reaUj- too bad, my dear Lillias," said Sir Gabriel, in 
 his blandest tone, "to insist upon your joining our little party 
 to-night, for I dare say you are tired with your journey ; but, 
 in the first place, I cannot, as your friend, allow you to give 
 v,ay to melanclioly on account of ^-our recent loss : and, in the 
 second, I am sure, if you resemble my poor sister Alice in 
 mind, as well as person, you would not wish to be absent from 
 our family circle to-night, since we have a few friends to cele- 
 brate a little elevation of my own, and a very great one which 
 is destined shortly to be attained by our dear Genevieve." 
 
 " Indeed, Sir!" replied Lilhas, who was at a loss to imder- 
 stand from this bombastic sx^eech what extraordinary honours 
 were about to descend upon the illustrious race of the Mill- 
 mans, "I shall be ver}^ glad to hear of anything which can 
 advance your daughter's happiness ; she seems very amiable !"
 
 LILLIAS CAVENANT. 87 
 
 *' Oh, yes ; she is very amiable, and very prettj^ too, as you 
 may sec, my dear niece," rephed Sir Gabriel, a,ddinff, however, 
 with an air of triumph so ill concealed that it at once struck 
 to the heart of the sensitive Lillias as a renewed reproach upon 
 the memory of her father — " l)ut at the same time I may 
 justly say that, \^•ith all Genevieve's beauty and goodness, she 
 will owe her rank as a British peeress wholly to me ; I have 
 done my duty. I cannot lay it upon my conscience that my 
 children have had to light with, the world. 'No ; I was too 
 well aM^are how much its chances were against young people. 
 I have made a fortune for my sons and davighters, and shall 
 be able to put some little advantages even in your way, Lilhas ; 
 you will find it of some avail, believe me, to be the niece of 
 a baronet, and cousin of a countess." 
 
 Sir Gabriel had addressed these remarks to his niece in a 
 very low tone, so that they were ujiheard by Genevieve and 
 Sir Harry Vere ; and at the moment he ceased speaking, he 
 conducted her into a room at the upper end of which were seated 
 on a couch, Lady Millman and a gentleman verging towards 
 the decline of hfe, in whose still handsome features Lillias at 
 the first glance remarked so sti'ong a resemblance to Lord 
 Langley, that she scarce needed the voice of her uncle to inform 
 her that she was in the presence of the Earl of Daylsford. 
 
 Even amid the confusionof her introduction, LiUias was sensi- 
 ble of some surprise as she contrasted the haughty countenance 
 and punctilious manners of the earl with the extreme vulgarity of 
 Lady Millman, and remembered all she had heard Lady Emily 
 say of her father's prejudice of caste. "Wherefore," thought 
 Lillias, "does this proud patrician visit people whom he must 
 despise ?" Alas ! the mystery of Lord Daylsford's acquaintance- 
 ship with Sir Gabriel Millman -was to be too quickly solved. In 
 spite of his evident hauteur, the appearance of the Earl was 
 calculated to excite admiration ; nothing could be more strilcing 
 than the bold outline of liis features, or the broad expanse of 
 his forehead, rendered venerable by the silvery hue of the hair 
 which fell thinly over liis temples, Avhile his eye stiU flashed 
 with as much pride and vivacity as that of his youthful son. 
 Lillias, too, admired in him the fashions of the old school, 
 evident in the somewhat staid courtesy of his manners, in the 
 stately but not unldnd mode in wliich he accepted the intro- 
 duction to herself, and the air with which he offered his hand 
 to re-conduct Lady Millman to the ball-room. Thitlier Sir 
 Gabriel then proposed that his niece should proceed, merely, as 
 he said, because he wished to introduce her to several of his 
 friends, but in truth to parade her before the eyes of some of 
 his acquaintances, who had known her father in the days of 
 his prosperity, the daughter of Mr. Davenant as a pensioner 
 on his bounty, which he had previously taken care to give
 
 88 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 note that slie was. Sir Hany Vere, wlio liad been detained 
 in town by tlie exigency of liis pecuniary affairs, with wbich 
 indeed Sii- Gabriel Lad meddled ratiier too much for his fellow- 
 baronet's advantage, was, with the excei;)tion of the Earl of 
 Daylsford and two or thi'ce pohtieians, the only person of 
 fashion present ; and till the appearance of Lilhas, he had pro- 
 mised himself a very dull evening. Jaded, like Lord Langley, 
 by dissipation. Sir HaiTy Vere was ever on the look out for 
 some new source of amusement, and at once concluded that 
 it woidd be a very fair one to make desperate and uncompromis- 
 ing love to this elegant melancholy looking girl, who, he had been 
 pre-informed, was totally dependent on her uncle for support. 
 In the hackneyed arts of deception, too, Sii- Harry Vere was as 
 great an adept as Lord Langley himself. He did not, there- 
 fore, ask Lilhas in what he felt must be the depressed state of 
 her sijirits to join the dancers ; but, leaning on the back of her 
 chair, he diverted her thoughts with a conversation which he 
 well knew how to render witty and amusing. 
 
 Sir Grabriel's master-stroke of the evening, however, had not 
 yet been effected ; and perceiving the eyes of his niece bent upon 
 the Earl of Daylsford, while politeness compelled her to a 
 seeming attention to the remarks of Sir Harry Vere, he ap- 
 proached them, and taking a seat beside her, said, " May I ask, 
 my very pensive and accomphshed niece, what you think of 
 the Earl of Daylsford ? does he suit all your fancies of a noble- 
 man? or win Grenevieve find him. too stately P" 
 
 A sickening apijrehension struck the heart of Lilhas, as Sir 
 Gabriel uttered these woi'ds. She had indeed been pondering 
 as to the meaning of his previous boast, that his daughter 
 \^'0idd be a countess ; but among the number of needy noble- 
 men who might l)e wdling to barter their rank for the sub- 
 stantial benefit of gold, she had refused to think of Lord 
 Langley, though the presence of his father in her uncle's house 
 and the bragging of the latter, had indeed partly warned her 
 of what she was now about to hear ; though she did not for a 
 moment apprehend that the question of a marriage between 
 Lord Langley and Genevieve woidd have been further agitated 
 than between Sir Gabriel and the earl. Any fact, however, 
 was preferable to her present agonizing xmcertainty ; and with 
 a voice that she rendered cahn by a strong efibrt, thougli her 
 lip in spite of lier ciuivered and grew pale, she inqmred where- 
 fore it was that Genevieve had an interest in the manners of 
 the Earl of Daylsford ? 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot," said Sii- Gabriel ; " I am sure I thought I 
 liad mentioned in my letters that Genevieve is going to be 
 man-icd to the carl's eldest son, Lord Langley ; I am quite 
 ashamed of my carelessness ; but you see, Lilhas, I have so
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 89 
 
 much on my mind, and this affair, too, of the baronetcy, which 
 tlie Queen has been pleased to bestow, has occupied me a 
 httle, too." 
 
 " The earfs eldest son, Lord Langley !" repeated LHhas ; 
 and overcome hy the bitter anguish of the moment, and the 
 fatigue of the past day, she sanlc back in a heavy swoon. 
 
 Sir Harry Vere bore her to an open window with a care that 
 might not have been i)leasing to her treacherous lover ; but 
 Sir Gabriel cast one look at her deathlike face, and exulted in 
 the thought that she had been stricken only by a rancorous 
 envy.
 
 90 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " So may the outward shows be least themselves ; 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt. 
 That, being seasoned with a gracious voice, 
 Obscures the show of evil." 
 
 Shakspeahe. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins liaving dropped in lier surprise the letter wliicli 
 contained so startling a revelation, remained fixed in a reverie 
 more serious than was usual with her, and from which she was 
 startled by a step behind her, and looking up, perceived to her 
 great anger and almost dismay, that her neighbour, Mrs. Cor- 
 bett, had entered the room from the bedchamber. 
 
 " Lord bless us, Mrs. Corbctt ! where havej^ou started from?" 
 said the landlady, in rather a sharp tone, hastily picking up 
 the letter, and huddling the veil into the box ; for she appre- 
 hended that her visitor would form a shrewd guess that she 
 had been very unwarrantably meddling with the effects of her 
 lodger. 
 
 Tlic poor little woman, Mrs. Corbett, who had really in- 
 truded herself solely with a view of alleviating the fatigue of 
 Mrs. Jenkins in nursing her sick lodger, hastily began to 
 stammer out an apology for the abruptness of her entrance. 
 
 "I dare say," she said, " I startled you coming in so softly ; 
 but I was afraid of disturbing Mi's. Vere, so I wouldn't let 
 your goodman come up to tell j^ou I was her6 ; but now, if 
 j-ou like to go and lie down for a couple of hours, I am quite 
 at your service for that time !" 
 
 " Oh, many thanks, Mrs. Corbett!" replied the landlady ; " I 
 won't trouble you for that; but stay now since you have come 
 over, and have a bit of chat. Lord, how you did startle me ; .you 
 see these was some laces I was a-looking over, that Mrs. Vere 
 wants me to wash for her ! But I'll put 'em away now, and look 
 after them to-morrow." With these words the landlady, casting 
 a sharp glance around to see that nothing ^as left out, hastily 
 locked tlie box, and replaced the key in Mrs. Vere's writing desk, 
 whicli slie made no scruple to acknowledge that she had opened 
 for the pun:)ose of obtaining money to defray the expenses of the 
 lady's illness ; then V)ringing forward the not yet exhausted 
 brandy bottle, having first taken a look at her patient, she settled
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 91 
 
 licrsclf down for what she called a comfortable chat, lint ■nhicli 
 Avas, in truth, to be a cross-examinatiou iutcndcd to elicit all her 
 visitor's most ])rivate affairs. 
 
 The Fates, however, had unkindly determined against poor 
 ]\Irs. Jenkins on that evening, for scarcely had she sat down 
 before a hasty knock at the street door, followed by the voice of 
 Eustace, on the staii-s, announced his retiu'n. 
 
 His first care was to see his mother, -nhose deep though un- 
 easy slumber was unbroken by his entrance ; then he inqiured 
 what advice she had had, and interrupted the long tirade which 
 Mrs. Jenkins had commenced, by an assurance that he was satis- 
 fied with what she had done, but that he should send for a phy- 
 sician if his mother were not better by the morning. 
 
 " It is really very kind of you, too, Mrs. Corbett," he said, 
 " to encroach on the tune which I am sure must be so much 
 tasked in your family, and come over to assist my poor mother. 
 You will find, however, when you see Mr. Corbett, that he has 
 a little surprise for you. I happened to meet hun at the station, 
 and I think he makes hunself pretty certain that the parents of 
 two young ladies of the name of Davenant, with whom I tra- 
 velled, were known to you." 
 
 " TFere known to me!" ejaculated Mrs. Corbett, with the 
 tears startmg to her eyes — " oh, sir, I hope nothing has hap- 
 pened to my deal' Mrs. Davenant, the kindest, best mistress, the 
 best friend I ever had." 
 
 "If the Mrs. Davenant whom you knew was the mother of 
 the young ladies ■«ho travelled with me, she has been dead nearly 
 two years, and they have but latelj^ poor things, lost their 
 father ; and I believe vnll for the futm'e reside with their uncle, 
 Sir Gabriel Mdlman." 
 
 "Oh, sir," replied Mrs. Corbett, "my husband was cjuite 
 right, and Heaven keep the dear young ladies if the,y are to de- 
 pend upon their uncle ! Oh, Mr. Vere, I knew him when he 
 ■nas quite a young man, and he was the wickedest curmudgeon 
 that ever lived, even then ; and you may depend upon it, sir, 
 that a stingy young man won't make a generous old one.' 
 
 " I beheve you are not far from the truth in that sentiment, 
 Mrs. Corbett," answered Eustace, "for I know something of 
 Sir Gabriel MUhuan, and can assure you his character is not 
 impi'oved with years." 
 
 " But, sir," said Mrs. Corbett, " if you know Sir Gabriel, and 
 the Miss Davenants, might I be so bold as to ask you A^hether 
 you would give them a message from me the next time you see 
 them?" 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Corbett," replied Yere, " that was the very 
 favoirr I was about to ask of you ; I am not now a visitor in the 
 house of Sir Gabriel MUlman, yet if any time is spared to Miss
 
 93 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Davenant, I would fain introduce her to my mother. You, per- 
 haps, would convey a note to her, for we parted so suddenly I 
 had no time to give her my address." 
 
 " Oh, I will do that for you, Mr. Vere, with great pleasure !" 
 answered Mrs. Corbett; "if there is no chance for seeing the 
 dear girls but by going to the house of Su- Gabriel, which is just 
 hke gomg to be hugged by a bear : howsomever go I wUl, for 
 many a time has me and my goodman -wondered what had 
 become of the Daveuants : we were afeared indeed that Mrs. 
 Davenant chd not write after she went into the country, because 
 she coidd not afford to send me such presents as she gave in old 
 times ; but that was unkmd, for I loved her too much to reckon 
 on what she could give me." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Corbett spoke in a voice choked by her tears ; but 
 to Eustace who, amid even the domestic calamity of his mother's 
 illness, was cheered by the prospect which the good woman's 
 knowledge of the Davenant family gave him of prosecuting his 
 acquaintance with the interesting LUIias,the apology into which 
 she launched was quite unnecessary. " I clo hope you will ex- 
 cuse me, Mr. Vere," she said, "for crying in this manner like an 
 old fool, but I sha'u't be better till I have had a good bout on it ; 
 to think of those darling girls, such born ladies as they are, 
 being driven about among the children of that old Sir Gabriel, 
 what isn't fit to wipe their shoes, in a manner of speaking : to 
 think what changes there is iu this world !" 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins, who had been silent during the preceding con- 
 versation, in the hope that it wovdd elicit somethmg with regard 
 to her lodgers the Veres, at this point thought it necessary to 
 break in, which she did with a most dolefid sigh, and ex- 
 clamation of — 
 
 " Ah, deary me ! that's what I says, nothing but ups and 
 doM lis in this here world !" 
 
 This speech of his landlady had the effect of reminding 
 Eustace Vere of her presence, which, indeed, in his absorbing 
 mtercst for Ldlias, he had almost forgotten. The good woman 
 was not altogether a favourite Math him, for he was not so little 
 acquamted with the world, but that he rated her late civility at 
 Its just value, and had determmed, so soon as her health would 
 penrnt, to remove his mother to some more pleasant and 
 respectable alwde : lie, therefore, cut short the tirade of sym- 
 pathy into which Mrs. Jenkins liad launched, and observing 
 tliat as he was not much fjitigued with his journey he woidd 
 undertake to watch for an hour by the side of his mother, 
 dismissed both Mrs. Corbett and the loquacious landlady, 
 though not until the latter, who was considerably disconcerted 
 by his sudden retm-n, had placed in his liands the residue of 
 the money which she had found in Mrs. Vere's desk, with the
 
 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 93 
 
 promise tliat slio \voixld present lier account of artic-lcs pur- 
 cliased, in the morning. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins would, on tlieir going down staii-s, liave fain 
 lured the mechanic's wife into a gossip regarding the Dave- 
 nants, but Mrs. Coi-bett was too really anxious on their behalf 
 to lose any time in discussing with her own family the best 
 mode in Avhicli to obtain an interview ■v^'ith Lillias ; for Mrs. 
 Corbett was so well acquainted with the temx)er of Sir Gabriel 
 that she did not imagine that he woidd allow an easj^ access 
 to his nieces. When Mrs. Corbett returned to her own 
 lodgings the sti-eet door was o])ened by her landlady, who, 
 with a very solenm comitenance, beckoned her into the parlour, 
 when, having carefully closed the door, she said — 
 
 " I really am very glad that you have come home, Mrs. 
 Corbett. I have been up to see Lucy since you went out, and 
 now you must not be offended if I tell you that I think that 
 poor girl is gomg on in a very strange way. I have had it 
 on my muid to tell you so for this mouth past, but did not 
 like, because I know people sometmies take so ill things that 
 are meant for their good." 
 
 '' Mercy on us, Mrs. Haynes, how jou do frighten one !" said 
 the mechanic's wife, turning cjuite i);xle. " WTiat do j'ou 
 mean ? I am sure that Corbett aud I have brought the girl 
 up well. I don't see anything amiss in her." 
 
 " There, of course now you are affronted," said Mrs. 
 Haynes ; " but I shall not be kept from doing my duty. And 
 I say again, that poor girl is going on in a veiy strange way. 
 I don't mean as she is doing anything \\Tong ; Lord forbid as 
 I should say so ; but I see that Lucy is very miserable. Is it 
 natural now for a young girl to creep into a room by herself 
 and sit down and cry ? which I can tell you is what she does, 
 for I have caught her at it times out of number ; and then all 
 I can get out other is, ' Oh, I am so miserable ; l)ut don't tell 
 my mother, don't tell my father !' I tell j-ou what it is, Mrs. 
 Corbett, that gii'l is crossed in love — take mj- word for it." 
 
 " Nonsense !" replied Mrs. Corbett, somewhat angi'ily ; 
 " crossed in love, indeed ! The girl never thinks about the 
 chaps ; all her talk has been about her work, and getting into 
 business for herself. Crossed in love, indeed!" 
 
 " I teU you now, Mrs. Corbett," answered the other matron, 
 whose^wrath was kindled by the contempt cast upon her sup- 
 positions, " I'll eat my fingers if that girl isn't in love ; and 
 don't you fancy she doesii't think about the young chaps 
 because she doesn't talk about them. Do you want to set up 
 that youi- daughter is hke nobody else ? Still water runs deep ; 
 the less she talks the more she thinks, I reckon, and no great 
 harm neither. Why shouldn't she have a sweetheart and settle
 
 94 LIILIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 ill life as ■well as lier niother before her ? And now I may as 
 A\ell say out my mind altosotlicr, for I am just in the humour, 
 Mrs. C'orbett, and truth is truth, and I won't tell no hes to 
 please nobody ; and I think now, and so docs my man, that 
 your plans about Lucy is wicked and unjust. Lucy's to do 
 this, and Lucy is to pay for that ; her father paid so much 
 money for Lucy, and so she must keep Billy and Tommy, and 
 Jackey and Svikey, all her life. Gemini ! the gui may like a 
 Billy and Sukey of her own, perhaps. Is you to have them 
 all, and cut your own daughter out of the right and title to be 
 married as well as you was ?" 
 
 " I think you are meddling with what doesn't concern you, 
 Mrs. Ilayne's," said her lodger. "Lucy ought to do what she 
 can for lier family ; and if she likes to be an old maid, and I 
 am sure she has said so " 
 
 " Said so !" cried the landlady, curhng up her nose with an 
 au- of most profoimd contempt, "faugh! hope to be an old 
 maid! The woman has not been born yet, Mrs. Corbett, 
 gentle or simple, as liked to be an old maid, unless indeed she 
 has been crossed in her first love ; for woman is a deal more 
 true-hearted nor the men, and Lucy's fancy to be an old maid 
 has been since poor Tom Horton last went to sea, I suppose. 
 Oh, don't you go for to think that all tricks about that biisi- 
 ncss were not seen through. I used to watch you creeping 
 out so sly to see if the poor girl had her sweetheart to walk 
 home with her. Better, I tliink, to walk arm-in-arm with an 
 honest chap like that, than be dangled after by such ill-domg 
 fops of fellows as lay their snares for her and all the other 
 l)Oor milliners at the west end." 
 
 " This is fine talking, to be sure, ma'am," cried Mrs. Cor- 
 bett ; " as if I hadn't a right to do as I liked about my own 
 daughter, and prevent her marrying a fellow that couldn't 
 keep her." 
 
 " Now. don't tell such wicked lies, Mrs. Corbett,' retorted 
 the landlady. " You know that at that very time poor Tom 
 Jlorltin was earning four pounds a month, and no board and 
 lodging to pay for ; but because his nasty lazy fiimily Avanted 
 him to work for them, as you make Lucy do for you, you must 
 go and lay j'our heads together, and tell base falsehoods, to 
 part as good a girl and as worthy a lad as ever stepped in shoe 
 Icatlier. But I shall see a judgment on you, mark my words 
 if I don't. Tlicre's your fine boy, your favourite, master Jem, 
 spending his pence on the girls already. My goodman noticed 
 iiim the other night, a stuck-up, imperant, cockative little 
 monkey, with liis girl on his arm. He wants a good thrashing, 
 that he does ; but you'll sec how much of his money you'll
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 95 
 
 have ; if lie does not pick up some lazy wortliless liussey of a 
 wife before he's twenty, then epas isn't eggs. And as to poor 
 Lucy, she'll go mad, or dro\\ n'd herself, or take what-do-you- 
 call-it acid, and then you'll be satisfied, I hope." 
 
 "I'm satisfied that you and I had better part, ma'am, if you 
 are to make and meddle in my family affairs," said Mrs. Cor- 
 bett, who, as she would not confute the charges of her landlady, 
 thought it wise to (juaiTel outright. 
 
 "Oh, just as you please, ma'am, retorted the other;" you 
 liave been a respectable lodger, and always paid me regular, I 
 don't deny that ; but then, others -would have given a deal more 
 for them rooms, and I let you have them at such a low rent, 
 because of your large family ; but you are welcome to give 
 warning from to-night, for it's really more than my nerves 
 will bear to see that poor girl of yours moping and crying for 
 hours together, as she is doing to-night." 
 
 As Mrs. Corbett knew perfectly well that the landlady had 
 really, in consideration of letting four rooms together, taken 
 a somewhat smaller rent than she might have received had she 
 let them separately, and was besides a^Aare that it was not in 
 every lodging-house she could obtain admittance for her large 
 and noisy family, she thought it best to flounce in silence out 
 of the room without pressing the matter of the warning, and 
 ascended to her own apartments, not of coui-se in the best pos- 
 sible humour with her xmfortimate daughter, \\ hose " airs and 
 graces," as she termed them, WTre the soiu'ce of her landlady's 
 lecture. 
 
 Though Mrs. Corbett was not by any means a bad-hearted 
 woman, the difficulties which she perceived in the way of pro- 
 viding for her younger children had made her cruelly semsli 
 and exacting with regard to the eldest, whose sole purpose of 
 existence, she thought, \A'as to be the slave of her brothers and 
 sisters. Her husband, also, had been pleased to assume that Lucy 
 was to be a kindof irroperty in her own family ; and though he did 
 not so often, as her mother, remind the i)oor girl of the amount 
 of the premimn which he had paid to the mdliner, he no less 
 regarded her as a sort of machine, to be employed solely for the 
 advantage of his other children, and not at all for her own hap- 
 j)iness or comfort. " I have apprenticed Luc^' to a respectable 
 business, in a first rate house," he Avould say, " and she will be 
 able to get work as long as she lives." The understood infer- 
 ence of-tliis speech being, that if Lucy would v.ovk as long as 
 she lived — as long as she hved she Mas to work for her family. 
 Upon this most unjust and cruel principle it was, that this man 
 and his wife, occupying the lowest class of life, and not being bad 
 peox)le, in order to reserve the little earnings of theh' daughter
 
 96 LIILIAS DATENANT. 
 
 to tliemselves, practised the most abominable intrigues, and 
 uttered the basest falsehoods the moment that an honest and 
 iudust-iious young man made her an offer of marriage. 
 
 To -work evil, to blight the destiny of another, is alas, ui this 
 world, much easier than to do good ; the meanest and most con- 
 temptible of human beings can effect a very grand amount 
 of mischief, especially if they belong to the family of the yictim. 
 It is very- easy then to do evil, but there is something to come 
 afterwards ; it is seldom that the false and intriguing have any 
 cause for ti'iumph : even in their utmost success they do but 
 deal 
 
 " With juggling fiends, 
 Who keep the word of promise to the ear, 
 And break it to the hope." 
 
 And thus it was even in their poor low sphere with the Cor- 
 betts ; the.y worked their will ; they prevented the marriage of 
 their daughter, but they were not too mean for a judgment to 
 find them out. Alas, in her hazardous suppositions, poor Mrs. 
 Haynes had aijproached near the awful truth ! 
 
 It was, however, without any fear for the future, as it cer- 
 tainly was without regret for the past, tliat Mrs. Corbett 
 entered her own sitting-room, and found her daughter with her 
 liauds crossed, and her eyes, from which tears stUl slowly 
 trickled, fixed vacantly on the dying embers in the grate. 
 
 " My heart ahve, Lucy !" she then exclauned, in a sharp 
 angry tone, " if this isn't too bad now ; here it is nearly eleven 
 o'clock, and your father is to come home, and not a bit of fire 
 to sit by. I don't see a bit of work neither ; I suppose you 
 have been sitting in this lazy moping way the whole evening, 
 instead of setting about those children's frocks, when j'ou know 
 next week Mrs. RejTiolds wont be able to spare you for one 
 evening." 
 
 The mention of the children seemed to rouse the unfortunate 
 girl from tlie stupor which would have itself have alarmed a less 
 selfish mother ; and she raised her eyes with a sort of wild 
 savage glare, while she repUed in a tone as sharp as that used 
 bi' Mrs. Corbett, that she had not been well. 
 
 " Well !— no ! and you are not Hkely to be well while you 
 mope j'ourself in this fashion about that good-for-notliing fellow. 
 J f you had lost father and mother, and Ijrothers and sisters, 
 like the poor young ladies I have heard of to-night, you'd have 
 some reason to cry." 
 
 Lucy made no answer to this speech, but a strange snide 
 crossed lier lips, as she again bent her eyes upon the fire. Evil 
 begets evil. Lucy Corbett had come to regard her brotliers and 
 sisters as her natural enemies, since it was on their account that 
 she had been so unjustly treated by their common barents. 
 
 " I tell you what it is now, Lucy," said Mrs. Corbett, who
 
 tlLLIAS DAVENAXT. 97 
 
 was imtated by lier daiiglitcr's silence more perhaps than by 
 anything she would have said, " I think you have been sittuig 
 over the fire doins" nothing long enough ; and if you cannot 
 make the frocks, jou can help nie to get the supper ready for 
 your father, and put a few sticks in the gi'ate, for the fire Avill 
 be out altogether presently." 
 
 Th\is bidden, Lucy rose, and having repaired the fire, laid a 
 clean cloth upon the table, and took from a closet some cold 
 meat and bread, her mother having taken up the child's frock, 
 which she had laid aside. 
 
 " I did not go to bed this morning till four o'clock, mother," 
 said the poor girl, when she had finished setting out the supper. 
 " Mrs. Eeynolds had in a large order, and all the apprentices 
 were obliged to sit up to get it done." 
 
 '■ Then you might have said so before, instead of sidking 
 about, and giving me your airs and black looks," said Mrs. 
 Corbett. without looking up from her work. " Go to bed now, 
 then, and trj' and get up in a httle better humoui" to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 Lucy left the room without replying to this siieech, but her 
 heart throbbed bitterly against her mother, for she was really 
 indisposed, and felt that the ill humour had not been on her 
 side. 
 
 On entering her little chamber, she sat down by the bedside 
 and wei)t. A sister, yoiuiger than herself, shared Lucy's bed 
 when she was at home, and the sound of her deep sobs dis- 
 turbed the cliild, who, being rerj'' fond of her sister, rose up 
 and put her araas round the young girl's neck, saj'iug, " Don't 
 cry, Lui-y, there's a dear ; j'ou'll be better off by and by, and 
 have a shop of your own ; and then Tom will come home, and I 
 shall live with j ou, and learn liow to make frocks and bonnets, 
 and not have to niu-se baby all day long, till my arms ache." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Lucy ; "but Harriet, darling, you mustn't 
 tell mother that we were talking about Tom Horton." 
 
 "Oh, no!" answei'ed the little girl, "for she beat me, you 
 know, when I brought the letter from him to you before he went 
 away : I think mother and father are very naughty about Tom !" 
 "Hush, Harriet; you mustn't say that!" exclaimed Lucy, 
 folding her arms round the little gu-1, and lajdng her head on 
 the pillow beside her. 
 
 The~cluld nestled close to her sister, and while di-oi^piug to 
 sleep, she again muttered, " But mother is naughty ; she is very 
 ■wicked about Tom, and he is very good!" 
 
 Alas, the heart of the only member of her family who really 
 loved Lucy, was being divided from the parents with her own. 
 ChUdren are acute observers, and Hannct knew that her mother 
 did not care for trxith where Tom Hortou was concerned. 
 
 H
 
 98 LIILIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 The little girl, however, presently sank into a profound sleep, 
 and then Lucy softly rose. Ere she began to undress, however, 
 she unlocked a box, and took from it a gold chain, and a coral 
 necklace ; to the latter was attached a plain locket, containmg 
 some hair. The girl smiled as she held the glittering chain to 
 the light of the candle, "It would serve them right," she mut- 
 tered, bitterly. "But my dear, dear Tom!" she cried witli an 
 altered tone, as she took up the coral necklace — " oh, shall I 
 never, never see him again ? No, I could not love that fine 
 gentleman if lie gave me a thousand gold chains, I will take it 
 back to him to-morrow.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. ~ 99 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 " Or pining love shall waste their youth, 
 Or jealousy, with rankling tooth, 
 That inly gnaws the secret heart." 
 
 GuAY. 
 
 The evening of tlieir arrival at tlie lionse of Sir Grabriel Mill- 
 man afforded but a sad specimen to the orphan sistexs of the 
 amount of happiness or comfort they were likely to enjoy under 
 his roof. 
 
 So soon as LiUias had recovered from the ftiintiiig fit into 
 which she had fiillen, on receiving the unwitting intimation of 
 Lord Langley's deception, from her imcle, she prayed permis- 
 sion to retire to her chamber ; and whatever might have been 
 Sii' Gabriel's opinion of the cause of her Ulness, it was by liis 
 wife, and all other persons i)resent, attributed whoUy and very 
 natiu'aUy, to the fatigue of traveUiug. 
 
 The new-made baronet was by no means pleased at being 
 compelled to reHnquish for that evening, the pleasure of, as he 
 supposed, tormenting the daughter of his late brother-in-law. 
 He had wished to astonish LiUias by the splendour of the ball- 
 eupper, by the i)rofession of delicate viands, and the magni- 
 ficence of the service of gold plate. Genevieve would fain have 
 accompanied her cousin to her chamber, but LiUias insisted on 
 proceeding there alone ; her reason, even in that moment of 
 bitter trial, acknowledged the innocence of Genevieve, and the 
 turpitude of Lord Langley, but her heart would not, at so brief 
 notice, disclaim the love she had so imwisely bestowed, and she 
 shrank with a kind of horror from the presence of the woman 
 who was to possess his hand, in whose behalf she had abeady 
 bowed down the pride of her passionate and lofty soid. 
 
 Scarcely then had LiUias, with a heart bleeding and senses 
 stunned, entered her chamber, before Uttle Alice made her ap- 
 pearance in tears. LiUias, who perceived that the chUd's heart 
 was full, took the cancUe from the servant who had accompanied 
 her into the room, and scarcely were they alone, ere AHce threw 
 her arms roimd her sister's neck, and in a voice brolcen by her 
 deep-sobs, exclaimed, " Oh take me away from this house, dear 
 LiUias ; send me to school, or anything ; I caimot bear to hear 
 those chUdren say such wicked "things of poor papa !" After 
 having with some difficulty steimned the torrent of the little 
 gu'l's anger and grief, LUlias at length elicited that Miss 
 
 h2
 
 100 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Ada, after parading all lier dolls, "and playthings, had been 
 greatly offended by Alice havmg accidentally let faU a little 
 glass box. " And then, dear Lillias," said the sobbing cliild, 
 " she flew at me, and slapped my face ; and when the nurse 
 took her away, and \^'ould not let her strike me again, she 
 stamped with her feet, and said that our papa was only a thief, 
 and a beggar, and that her papa let you and I come here out of 
 charity', and that if it was not for him we must go to the work- 
 house, and that we were to be her servants. But I won't be her 
 servant ; I would sooner go to the -workhouse at once." 
 
 Here little Alice concluded her recital, with a torrent of tears. 
 Lilhas, folchng her sister in her arms, with a heart yet more 
 lacerated by the poor child's distress, still strove to speak a 
 comfort she did not feel, and promised that she woiild with all 
 speed send her to school, or leave Sir Gabriel's house along 
 with her. Being persiiaded by her sister to go to bed, the child 
 soon wept herself to sleep ; but though the pillow of Lillias was 
 also wet with tears on that rught, it was long before she lost the 
 sense of sorrow. Distressing thoughts kept her from repose ; 
 she was irritated with herself that she coulcl not at once dismiss 
 her attachment to Lord Langley on the discovery of the gross 
 deceiition he had practised ; and amid aU her bitter mortification, 
 a vague and too flattering rebance on his love for herself would 
 occasionally prompt an excuse for his conduct. The residence 
 in the house of Sir Gabriel would, too, she perceived, be more 
 unendurable than her worst fears had anticipated ; the out- 
 rageous dispositions of the childi'en seeming to defy control. 
 
 IIea\n^r at the heart of Lilhas, too, was the thought of the 
 thirtv' poimds which he stiU owed to Sir Gabriel ; nor did the 
 affected kindness and liberahty Avhich had marked her reception 
 in liis house, suffice to obbterate all her pre-conceived opinions 
 of his character; for the account given by Alice, of the conduct 
 of Miss Ada, coupled with the insults she had herself experienced 
 from the boy Augustus, seemed to iucbeate that most improper 
 language respecting herself and her family' had been used in 
 the ])resence of the cliildren. 
 
 Amid the bitter reflections of that soiTOwfid night, Lillias 
 could nc)t, however, inctdpate Genevieve with the rest of her 
 uncle's family. That she was really as kind-hearted as she 
 seemed, Lillias could not doubt, and severely did she school 
 herself for tlie dislike which the information of her engage- 
 ment with Lord Langh^y had, she felt, inspired in her heart to- 
 wards the innocent Genevieve. To meet Lord Langley as 
 the suitor of her cousin, Lillias felt would, in the present state 
 of her feelings, be worse than death ; and her uitroduction to 
 the guests of the evening deprived her of the hope that Sir 
 Gabriel woidd allow her to occupy only the obscure situation
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 101 
 
 of liis cliildren's fjovcrncss, and seclude herself in tlie scliool- 
 room. She would have made the insolence of the children 
 themselves her excuse for at once withdrawing from the house ; 
 but that, in addition to the obstacle to her so doing which 
 existed in her debt to their father, she was restrained by the 
 strict injunctions of Tracy, who, whUe he had foretold almost 
 the very natiire of the mortifications she would experience in 
 her uncle's family, had also informed her that it suited with his 
 plans that she should bear ^ith them for awhile. Of G-ene- 
 vieve's engagement with Lord Langley he had not informed 
 her; perhaps he thought the abrupt manner in which she 
 woulct probably hear of it on her arrival in Portman-sciuare 
 woiild do much to banisli from her heart a passion of which he, 
 as her best friend, so strongly disapproved. There is no situa- 
 tion of life so cruel as that when the mind, driven from point 
 to point of difficulty, finds the evUs on all sides so great that 
 they appear of equal magnitude, and eciually unendurable. 
 
 Such were the evils that kept LUhas waking through the 
 weary hours of the night, and left her, even when the morning 
 dawned, yet ixndecidecl what course she should pursue; for, if 
 to brook patiently the insolence of her uncle's family, and 
 chance a meeting with Lord Langley, seemed terrible to her 
 imagination, it was no less so to encounter, by leaving the 
 house, the displeasure of Tracy, that friend who had inspired 
 her as much with terror as with respect. Once LiUias had 
 thought of writing to Lord Langley, but her pride revolted at 
 the measure; for she could but direct her letters to Beech- 
 grove, where it might be seen, and her writing recognised, by 
 Lady Emily. On one point alone Lillias was determined, and 
 that" was, to force herself to such a conversation with Genevieve 
 as might ehcit the particulars of her engagement with Lord 
 Langley. As she perceived, too, that the evil dispositions of 
 her cousins could not faO. to make Ahce completely miserable, 
 while she was exposed to then- influence, she resolved at once 
 to apply to Sir Gabriel, and ascertain how far he was disposed 
 to promote her project of placing her sister at school. All who 
 have suffered imder the pressure of real misfortune, and have 
 known the weariness of sleepless nights, must have observed 
 how a strangely morbid feeling is engendered by the hovirs of 
 sohtude and darkness— how every difficulty then presents itself 
 in its most ocUous aspect, and forethouglits of anguish and dis- 
 appointment alone haunt the mind. Among the many nights 
 of sorrow which had already marked the brief but troublous 
 existence of Lillias Davenant^ none had more vividl.v impressed 
 her with doleful images tlian that which she first passed under 
 the roof of her micle. The real evils and mortifications which 
 surrounded her were indeed severe enough, and required not
 
 102 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 to be further heiglitened by a diseased imagination ; and, in- 
 deed, when the grey hght of the winter morning stole between 
 tlie closed curtains of her chamber, and little Alice awoke to 
 discuss M-ith her then.' situation, it did not appear to LiUias that 
 her prospects were on all sides closed by misfortune, as she had 
 fancied dining the sleepless hours of the night. That iadomi- 
 table pride, too, which was the gi'eat defect of her character, 
 already combated with her love for a man who had so grossly 
 deceived her. Lillias already began to tliiiik that Lord Lang- 
 ley wotdd find it hard to excuse himself; whUe, conscious as 
 she was of the superior beauty of her cousin, her jealous heart 
 suggested that Genevieve was the real object of the young 
 nobleman's love, while her indignation rose high agauist him, 
 as having sought merely to amuse an idle hour with her own 
 weakness. 
 
 Thoughts hke these commiinicated a firmness to the outward 
 bearing of LiUias, and it was ■with a serene coimtenance that, 
 havmg finished dressing, she left the chamber with her sister, 
 in search of the room where thej^ had drunk tea on the pre- 
 ceding night. It was not yet eight o'clock, and only the house- 
 maids were stirring among the nimierous estabhshment of Sir 
 Grabriel, and these, yawning and half awake, went gi'umblin^ 
 about tlieir work. None of the inmates of the nursery had 
 yet risen, for the household of Sir Gabriel was thoroughly ill- 
 managed, and, ■with a most lavish exiieuditure of money, there 
 Mas but little regularity or comfort. With all her shrewdness, 
 Lady MiUman governed both her servants and children very 
 ill; her wealth sat uneasU.y on her. like a garment that did not 
 fit ; the meanness and viilgarity of her early habits pervaded 
 her T* hole conduct ; she had neither the dignity nor the ease of 
 a lady ; she could not acriuire that cool air of authority, tem- 
 pered by kindness, which is necessary- to control servants and 
 inspire them %vith respect for their employers. Thus, \\hile, on 
 the one hand, she AAas in a manner compelled to tolerate the 
 most scandalous extravagance, on the other, she woidd wrangle 
 with the lowest servant in the house about a trifiing perquisite, 
 or a few sliilhngs to be emi:)]oycd for some necessary pm-pose. 
 It was but lately tliat she had consented to emploj' a liouse- 
 keeper, and tlien only by the repeated assurances of her 
 fashionable friends that she would thereby save at the end of 
 the year. Mrs. Edmonds, the housekeeper, was a person who 
 thorouglil.y understood lier duty; but servants so ill-managed 
 as Lady Millniau's were not to be very speedily brought under 
 control. Thus, when Lillias and Ahce entered the room into 
 which tliey had been shown on their arrival, they found ihe 
 chairs and tables covered with dust, and one of the housemaids 
 cleaning the grate, the fire not being yet lighted.^ 
 
 " Lauk a mercy, young ladies !" said the girl, in a pert tone,
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 103 
 
 '■' what made you cet up at tliis time o' day? I promise you 
 tliore'll not be a bit of breakfast for you tkis hour to come ; 
 and you see what a smotheration I'm in here. You'd better go 
 into the dining-room, the other side of the hall, till I've done 
 here." 
 
 Lilhas thought her best course was to foUow this advice ; 
 but, just as she and Alice entered the hall, one of the footmen, 
 in answer to a very gentle sunmions at the servants' bell, 
 opened the house door, and admitted a young man, whose dis- 
 ordered dress, and sminnniug eye, gave evidence of at least 
 partial intoxication ; while in his not mihandsome features there 
 was a sufficient resemblance to Sir Gabriel to justify Lilhas in 
 the siu-mise that he was her cousin, Frederick, the heir of the 
 house, whose absence from the party of the preceding night she 
 had heard much lamented by Lady Milhuau, who had con- 
 cluded her remarks by saying, " that she really feared her poor 
 dear Frederick woiild kill himself with study." 
 
 As the young man addressed himself to the servant, with an 
 inquiry as to whether the " governor" was still safe in bed, 
 Lillias tliought that the nPiture of his stucUes might possiljly 
 justify his mamma's fears ; and having, herself, a soi-t of in- 
 stinctive terror of tipsy gentlemen, she hurried Alice across the 
 haU, towards the dining-room, though not so quickly as to 
 escape the notice of Mr. Frederick, who, learning from the 
 footman that the young ladies were Miss Davenant and her 
 sister, followed them with a quicker and steadier step than it 
 might have been supposed he could command at that particular 
 moment, and, seizmg Lillias by the hand, turned her fidl into 
 the light, exclaiming, 
 
 " jN^ow, don't be in such a hurry, my little dear, but give us 
 a quiet, cousinly kiss. I have the honour to be j'our cousin, 
 mj^ dear. Heally, now, you are a devibsh prettj' girl, a deal 
 more to my taste than that mawkj^ sister of mine ; there's a 
 little life in those dark eyes, and just enough of the vixen, too. 
 I like a clash of spii-it in a woman — the lemon and caj'enne of 
 beauty for me. Now, it's of no use trying to get away ; you 
 must sit down here, and have a cup of coffee with me, before 
 the old frmnp, my mamma, is stirring. No, we won't have 
 coffee, that is such poor stuff; we'll have a bottle of cham- 
 l)agne, Lilhas!" 
 
 , " EeaUy, my dear cousin," said Lillias, who coidd not forbear 
 Mughmg at the whimsical manners of the youug mau, "I am 
 afraid that you had a bottle too much of champagne, last night, 
 to need any this morning." 
 
 '■ Quite the contrary, little girl," answered Frederick ; " my 
 spirits have run down, bke the weights of a clock, and nothing 
 but ■^^^ne ^^-iU wuid them up again." 
 
 " As my spirits, however, are not so far expended, Mr. Mill-
 
 101 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 man," returned Lillias, " I must beg tliat you ^iH let me 
 go." 
 
 "Could not tliink of it, my dear;" cried Frederick, grasping 
 tlie hand of his cousin tightly, and almost forcing her into a 
 seat. 
 
 At this jimeture the footman made his appearance with the 
 wine which the young man had ordered, and scarcely had he 
 withdi-awn, -nhen a somewhat heavy step was heard, and the 
 door again opening. Lady MiUman made her appearance, 
 ■wrapped in a dressing-gown of rose-colour French merino, pro- 
 fusely trimmed with quilted ribbon of the same hue. This gay 
 garb had evidently been huddled on in a great hurry, and her 
 ladysliip still wore a nightcap, which did not suffice to conceal 
 the ravages which time had made with her once ebon locks, 
 two or three of which, thickly striped with grey, had escaped 
 from beneath their covering of ricli foreign lace. 
 
 "Oh, Fred, you naughty boy!" cried Lady Milhnau, in a 
 whimpering tone ; " here have you been staying out all night 
 again: you'll kill yourself, and break your mother's heart, and 
 then, I suppose, you will be satisfied." 
 
 As she spoke thus, the poor motlier, who was most foolishly 
 attached to her sou, threw herself into a chair, and sobbed and 
 cried outright. 
 
 Frederick Millman put down the glass of wine which he was 
 about to raise to his lips, and, approaching his mother, took 
 her hands from her face, and kissed her with at least a great 
 appearance of affection. 
 
 " Come, come, old lady," he said; "this will never do; we 
 must not have these sort of doldrums. Come, now, go to bed. 
 "What, in the name of all that's peaceable and pleasant, sets 
 you running about the house at tliis hour, wlien quiet mammas 
 are snoozing comfortably in theh beds? I suppose you have a 
 miiul to bring llie governor about my ears: faith, that will be 
 devibsh agreeable, certainly." 
 
 " Oh, we shall not be disturbed by him," cried Lady MiJl- 
 man, witli a toss of the Jicad; "lie's in stich mighty good hu- 
 mour about tlie luck he lias had with his blessed Genevieve ; 
 and then, you iinist know, the Davcuants have come, and " 
 
 " Alieni!" interrupted Frederick, in a very loud tone, for he 
 was staTiding between liis dear mamma and the two girls ; and 
 was a\A'aro lliat, in the confusion of her entrance, she had not 
 nr,liced 1hem ; lie also knew in what kind of fashion his father 
 bad discussed the fortunes of liis nieces, aud as he was reaUy 
 \ery good-natured, and apprcliended some avowal very mal- 
 apropf)s, he clrew aside, to discover to his mother the ])resence 
 of Lillias and her sister, saying, at the same time — 
 
 " lUi, that is just it, my dear mamma; you see there was no
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 105 
 
 need for you to have left your bed. I have got my two little 
 cousius to keep me compauy, but I can't persuade them to 
 ■\\ish better luck to our acquaintance in a glass of wine." 
 
 " I should think not, at this hour of the morning, you grace- 
 less boy," retiu'ued Lady Mdlman, \a ho, though seriously an- 
 noyed at her own deshabille, and the fasJiion in which her son 
 had introduced himself to the sisters, had far too mucli shrewd- 
 ness to permit her vexation to appear, and resolved, since LiUias 
 ]iad so far become acquainted with his habits, to go the whole 
 length of confidence, and prevent, if i)Ossible, her becoming a 
 reporter for Sir Gabriel. 
 
 " Keally, my dear," slie said, after the complunents of the 
 morning had passed between her and Lillias, " you shoidd not 
 Imve got up so soon : I am sure you were quite knocked up last 
 night, and I assure you I should not have been out of bed my- 
 self, if it had not been for this scapegi-ace of a boy ; but, of 
 course, I couldn't sleep with the thought of his being out, so I 
 told WiLLiam, who, I know, will always sit up for hun, to give 
 a little tap at my door as soon as he came in." 
 
 "Very kind of you, mamma," said Frederick, '"but not 
 quite so much so on the part of Mr. William. I shall remem- 
 ber him for that faA^our. But, come, I suppose there is a fire in 
 the breakfast-room by this time : suppose we have the wine 
 earned there, and make ourselves comfortable." 
 
 " Not with wine, Frederick, at this time tu the morning ; but 
 as I do not feel disposed to go to bed again, we will have break- 
 fast with 3'our consuls, who wdl, I dare say, excuse my desha- 
 bille, for once." 
 
 This suggestion of Lady Millman being certainly the most 
 sensible that could be offered, the little party adjourned to the 
 breakfest-room, Mhere a bright fire was now blazing, the house- 
 maid's movements liaving been quickened by the knowledge 
 that " my lady " had come down. A breakfast, abundant in all 
 the luxuries which money can command, was soon placed upon 
 the table ; and as Lady Alillman was always in a good humour 
 when in the company of her son, Lillias formed a somewhat 
 hasty conclusion that she was a far more agreeable person than 
 her husband.
 
 106 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 " But I'll first have your fangs pared off, and then 
 Come nearer to you, when I have discovered 
 And made it good before the judge, what ways 
 And devilish practices you used to co/.en with." 
 
 New Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 The little breakfast party were upon very amicable terms ; Lady 
 Millman was al^^ays ia a good liiunour wheu ber eldest son 
 voucksafed to gratify ber Mitb bis company ; especially, wben, 
 as on tbe present occasion, tbere were otber parties present, 
 AAbose presence sbe presimied woidd close bis lips on tbe sub- 
 ject of money. On tbis morning, however, Lady Milbnau 
 deceived berself in tbe above-named expectation. As Lillias 
 and ber sister were sucb near relations, Master Fred did not 
 bold tbeu' company as a restraint necessary to be regarded ; 
 and wliile bis mother's eyes were fixed upon tbe porcelain ciip, 
 wbicb sbe was a second time filling witb cbocolate, he drew 
 bis purse from bis pocket and flung himself back in his chair, 
 M itb so lamentable a gi'oan, united to so comical an expression 
 of covmtenance, that bttle Alice began laughing ; and Lady Mill- 
 man, putting down the chocolate, exclaimed, rather angrily, 
 "Bless me, Frederick, you are certainly _ out of your senses, 
 and think that neither I nor your cousins are troubled with 
 nerves!" 
 
 " Oh, no, my dear mamma, I tMnk you have nerves, and 
 that, therefore, you mil take pity on my present miserable 
 condition ; and that Lillias is much too sensitive to enjoy peace 
 of mind when sbe learns that her unfortunate cousin was com- 
 pletely ruined last night by sucb a rim of ill luck as be never 
 liad before. Look, here, dear maimna— an empty purse, and an 
 empty ]50cket-book ; and I was coming home last night, at 
 reasonable hours, too, wben I met Harry Vere upon the door- 
 step, and be lugged me oil' again, and finished me up." 
 
 " Really, nov,-, Fred, this is too bad," cried Lady Milbnan ; 
 " it A\as tliree o'clock in the morning before Sir Harry Vere 
 left tbis house ; and I do think, not only that you ought to 
 have been home at an earlier hour, but that after aU you have 
 lieard youi- father say about that young man, you might know 
 I letter than to go w'lih liim to "those vile gambling-bouses, 
 and give bira a chance to ruin you as -n ell as himself. I
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 107 
 
 toll j'ou wliat it is, Fred," concluded Lady Millman, in a cry- 
 ing tone, " your conduct is quite too bad ; and if you think 
 I -n-Hl venture to ask youi' father for more monej', M-hen he 
 knows that you had two hvuidi-cd pounds from me only last 
 Monday, yo\i are very mucli mistaken, I can tell you." 
 
 " Now, don't be La a passion, mamma," retorted the j'ouug 
 man; "what is two hundred pounds, I should be glad to 
 know, for a fellow who is kept as close as I am ? The governor 
 is confoimded stiugy ; you know he is ; if he had any spirit iu 
 kim he would make me a regular allowance ; but he Hkes that his 
 son should be known for a pauper, though I can tell you that 
 does not add much to his respectability ; and I have, of course, 
 in self-defence, let all my friends know that you brought hun a 
 fortune, and that Genevieve's mother had nothing at all ; and 
 I can assxu-e you that the whole town thinks you are a great 
 fool to sulTer the Heathcote estate to be quietly handed over to 
 your step-daughter, while your eldest son is left without any 
 provision." 
 
 During this speech of her son, Lady MUhnan had vainly 
 A^Tnked and frowned, when she saw thfe eyes of LUlias averted, 
 with the design of iuteiTupting a revelation of familj' quarrels, 
 which she not injudiciously thought might as well be concealed 
 from her husband's nieces. Frederick MUlnian, however, had 
 moimted the hobby of his grand gi'ievance, and would not 
 have descended from it even for much stronger signs of chs- 
 approval than any which liis mother could venture upon ; 
 besides that, he cared httle whether his cousins made his com- 
 plaints known to Sir Gabriel or not ; for as the latter had 
 really shown very httle fatherly regard for him, the young 
 man, who, despite of his frivolity, was not destitute of pene- 
 ti'ation, had not been restrained by any fUial affection or respect 
 from meditating on or condemning the most odious features of 
 his father's character. Indeed, among his own boon compa- 
 nions, Frederick had more than once avowed his determination 
 very soon to have open war with Sir Gabriel; thus, then, 
 without any regard for the presence of his cousins, he -went on 
 with his grimibliug. 
 
 " I am siu'c, too, my father may hold his tongue about my 
 losing a hiindi"ed or two to poor HaiTy Vere ; it is but even- 
 handed justice ; you know, I am not to be put off ^nth any 
 gammon ; I know what Stock Exchange transactions are. My 
 father was to help the baronet to patc-h up his affairs by stock 
 speculations — was he not — in a veiy friendly way ? By Jove, 
 his friends may say with a vengeance, 'Keep me from Sh Ga- 
 bi'iel's friendship, and I wiU defend myself from my enemies !' 
 ]My father's kmd interference in behalf of Sii* Hany, has 
 tiu'ned out very like the help he gave to his imcle Eustace
 
 108 LILLIAS DAVEXANT. 
 
 before him ; the poor devil has lost the Hoathcote estate, and 
 out of twenty thousand a-year, has not got five left. But 
 Hany is a good fellow, with all his fauUs ; and I tell you 
 plainly, mother, I have put him on his guard ; he shall not be 
 left without a stiver, Uke his cousin, if I can help it." 
 
 " Do be quiet, Fred, and I will see what I can do for you 
 to-day," said Lady MUlman, detennined at all events to stop 
 lier sou's tirade. " I am sure you are enough to frighten Lil- 
 has out of her wits ; she wiU take your father for liis majesty 
 of the lower regions in person soon." 
 
 "Oh!" returned Fred, with a sneer, "I dare saj- LUlias 
 knows what business is, and how verv" similar the transactions 
 of trade are to those of the devil ; for since he is called the 
 father of lies, and all lies are held allowable in the way of 
 trade, aU talkers must be on terms with him to obtain that 
 necessary article of their stocli." 
 
 " lleally, my dear cousin," saidLUlias, laugliing, " Ithinkj'ou 
 are too satirical ; it is hard to tliink that trade must necessai-ily 
 make men false and dishonest." 
 
 "Perhaps not in all cases," replied Frederick ; "but be as- 
 sured, that it is no promoter either of honour or honesty." 
 
 At this moment, greatly to the relief of Lady MUlman, a ser- 
 vant informed LUlias that a young woman was waiting to see her 
 in the haU ; and as Alice had finished her breakfast, Ladj- MUl- 
 man bade her go and see if the children were not yet up in the 
 nurserj', for she was but too glad to chspose of the girls so as to 
 prevent their hearing any more of Frederick's censures of Sir 
 Gabriel. The j'oung gentleman, however, happened to be in an. 
 uncommoniy perverse humour, and the door had scarcely been 
 closed on the sisters, when he rose from his seat, and teUing his 
 mother that he should no longer leave matters in her hands, but 
 expostulate with Sir Gabriel himself, and insist upon having an 
 allowance, he quitted the room without heeding her remon- 
 strances, and sauntered into the hall just in time to see LiUias 
 receive a note from the hand of a pale but pretty-looking girl, 
 whose dress, though perfectly neat, and exhibiting even some 
 good taste, was nevertheless of such simple materials as seemed 
 to indicate that she belonged to the most humble rank of the mid- 
 dling class, if not to the grade immediately below it. It struck 
 Mr. Milhnan that he had seen the young girl before, and it was 
 not with any great amount of politeness that he stepped between 
 her and his cousin, as Lillias drew a little back towards the open 
 door of asmaU waitincr-room contiguous to the hall. Seeing that 
 she Avas occupied with, the ])crusal of the note, Frederick ap- 
 
 Sroachedthe young girl, whowas indecdno other tlianLucj'Cor- 
 ett, and wjiispered, " Have you made up your mind, my dearP" 
 " Yes, sir," replied Lucy ; " you must take back your chain ;
 
 LlLLIAS CAVENANT. 109 
 
 siifli fine tilings are not fit for me. But I did not, of course, 
 expect to see you liere." A deep l)lusli sufliised the fa<-e of Lucy 
 as she spoke, and she glanced anxiously both tow ai'ds Lillias, 
 and the sen^ants who were loitering in the hall, overcome with 
 confusion in the fear of her colloquy with Mr. Milhnan meeting 
 observation. Lillias, however, was deeply engaged with her let- 
 ter, the footmen whispering together, and the porter looking 
 over a newspaper. 
 
 " Why, what a fooHsh girl you are !" said Frederick. " What 
 are you lookuig so frightened about ? there's nobody here to 
 give themselves any concern about you, as you say yoiu* parents 
 and the milliner do." 
 
 "Oh, sir, do pray, go away!" again whisi)ered Lucy, entreat- 
 ingly; "the young lady will finish her letter in a minute, and 
 what will she tliink of meP" 
 
 " Say that j'ou \\ill meet me in the Quadrant this evening, 
 then," answered Frederick; and the poor gii-1, fcarfol of being- 
 remarked by Lilhas, gave a hasty but um\il]ing assent. Ilavmg 
 thus secured what he had never obtained before, an apjjointment 
 with the young millmer, Frederick Millman was about to leave 
 the haU when liis steps were arrested by a loud rap at the door. 
 The peculiar fashion of this knock it was that excited Frede- 
 rick's attention. It was not the shai-i), double-rap of the post- 
 man, it was still less like the thmidering and pi'olonged peal of 
 a fashionable footman, and it flas certamly not the knock of a 
 gentleman. On the porter opening the door; mucli to his indig- 
 nation and the siu-prise of Frederick, an ill-looking and ^-ery 
 shabbily dressed man strode mtothe hall, and asked, in a rough, 
 hectoring manner, to see Sir Gabriel Millman. 
 
 " Master is not up yet, I believe ; and I doubt whether he has 
 invited you to a breakfast party, my friend," said the porter. 
 The air of profound contempt and disgust with wliich, while 
 speaking, the porter surveyed the shabby garments of the 
 stranger, did not escape the notice of the latter. 
 
 " Don't go by appearances, my fine fellow," he said ; " they 
 are not to be depended on in this world ; but just be at the 
 trouble of moving as fast as jour fat sides will let you, and tell 
 your master there is a gentleman waiting for him." As he s])oke 
 thus the man, with a swaggering air, di*ew forward one of the 
 haill chairs and seated himself, to the great indignation of the 
 porter, who, as soon as his rage would permit liim to speak, 
 began spluttering out his commands to his fellow-servants : 
 "Here Thomas, William, come and help metui-n this vagabond 
 out of the house; a pretty thmg indeed, fellow: ■v\ho do you 
 suppose Sir Gabriel Millman is, that we are to call him out of 
 his bed at the pleasure of a beggarly rascal \^ho can't even put 
 a decent coat on Lis back ?"
 
 110 LILLIA.S DAVENAITT. 
 
 The sti'angei', who had folded his arms and still kept his seat, 
 regarded the porter and footmen with looks of equal contempt ; 
 but as one of the men advanced and was about to put his hand 
 on his shoulder, he started up, and scowling at them from under 
 his pent brows, exclaimed, "Take care what you are about; 
 don't interrupt me in the execution of my duty ; I bring your 
 master a law paper, so you had better take care what you are 
 about." This declai'ation caused a sensation among the servants, 
 who all drew back with an amoimt of astonishment depicted 
 in their faces, which seemed to aflbrd much amusement to the 
 lawyer's clerk, who, in a jeering tone, asked whether they would 
 now carry a message for him to theii* master. 
 
 Meantime, the tumult in the hall had dravsoi LiUias forward, 
 and the avowal of the man had checked the immoderate laughter 
 which Frederick had indulged in diu'ing his dispute with the 
 seiwants. As for poor Lucy Corbett, she had, from the tales 
 which she had heard of their doings, imbibed a horror of law 
 and lawyers, such as in her infancy she had experienced against 
 an ogre in liis enchanted castle, and di-ew away in an absolute 
 physical fear when the man declared his occupation and errand. 
 Lillias, unfortunately for herself, was better acquainted with 
 the real dangers to be apprehended from the agents of the law, 
 and knew that though the clerk would probably be well i)leased 
 did the servants of her uncle assaidt him, he was quite too well 
 acquainted with the penalties attached to such offence, to commit 
 it himself. Frederick was advancing with an angiyair; but 
 Lillias interposing between him and the lawyer's clerk, said, 
 " My dear cousin, be advised by me ; let your father know that 
 this man is waitiug to see him." 
 
 "Excuse me, Lillias," replied the yoimg man, " it wUlbe more 
 satisfactory to me to kick the impudent scoundrel out of the 
 house ; he might discharge his errand civilly." 
 
 " Oh, kick me out of the house, young gentleman : kick me 
 out of the house !" cried the fellow, sti'iding towards Frederick 
 with an air of bravado. " By .jingo, I should like that !" 
 
 " No doubt you would, su%" said Lillias, grasping the 
 raised hand of Frederick, and still interposmg between him and 
 the lawyer's clerk; " if Mr. Milhnan takes my advice, however, 
 he will allow you no such advantage ; come, Frederick, come 
 with me, and call your father ; do not, I beseech you, regard the 
 insolence of this man; to be insolent is the charter of his em- 
 ployment." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Lillias," answered the young man ; 
 " so let us go. I dare say my father is in the hbrary ; come 
 ■ndth me, for I am too angry to speak myself." 
 
 As he spoke, Frederick took the ann of his cousin, and began 
 to ascend the staircase, when the lawyer's clerk, as if a new
 
 tILLIAS DAVENANT. Ill 
 
 thought had struck him, ffoiug after them, cxclamied, " Oh, 
 oh, my regular swell, you don't do Jabez Jobbings that way ; 
 ron'U send your governor out by the area, I suppose, to give 
 me half a dozen journeys before tlie notice of action is seiwed." 
 This insult was more than the pliilosophj' of Frederick Mill- . 
 man could brook, and, tiu-nuig shaii)ly round, he seized Mr. 
 Jobbings by the collar, and flung hun back with such violence 
 that he measured his length in the haU, sti-iking his head 
 against one of the heavy carved chairs with a force that testified 
 the excellent tliickness of his skull, since it only stunned, in- 
 stead of killing him outright.
 
 112 LILLIAS DAVENAHT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI, 
 
 " He fights men out of their estates, 
 And breaks through all law nets made to ill men curb, 
 As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him ; 
 Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never 
 Lodged so unluckily." 
 
 Kcw_ Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 About iiine o'clock in tlie evening of tliis clay of Mr. Jobbings' 
 unwelcome visit, Sir Gabriel Millman quitted liis house, iin- 
 attended and on foot, tbougli a cold, drizzling rain was falling. 
 The baronet, however, only ijroeeeded to the nearest cab-stand, 
 where, hiring a vehicle, he ordered the driver to take hini to 
 Hatton-garden. Sir Gabriel had especially desired the man to 
 di'ive fast, but tlie utmost speed of the poor jaded horse could 
 not keep pace with Ms impatience. The house at \\'hich, by Sir 
 Gabriel's desire, the vehicle sto]3i)ed, was let out in oiBces, 
 chielly occu])ied by lawyers : but at this hour the door was 
 closed, and it was only on a second loud summons that it was 
 opened by a slovenly old charwoman, who, as she was suffering 
 from rhevunatism, and had been compelled to leave the fireside, 
 by which she was endeavouring to rest her aching and wearied 
 limbs, vouchsafed but a very snappish answ er to Sir Gabriel's 
 inquiry lA'liether Mr. Nicholas was witlun ; and, leaving the 
 baronet to find his way to the second floor, which was in the 
 occttpation of the gentleman named, by tlie light of a glun- 
 meriuf^ lamp upon the staircase, she hobbled off, breathing 
 anything ratlier than blessings \\'\)on him for having disturbecl 
 her. Tlu! noise of Sir Gabriel's entrance, however, had not 
 been unnoticed by the ]:)ers()ns w horn he came to seek : a head 
 appeared i)ecring over the banisters, and a voice subdued to tlie 
 tones of the most extreme servility, said, " Will you be pleased 
 to walk u]). Sir Gabriel. Mr. Nicholas called at the office m 
 las way home, and though he is mvich fatigued, of course he 
 has stayed to keei) the appointment witliyou, A\'hich I ventured 
 to make." 
 
 " Very obliging, certainly ! " muttered Sir Gabriel between 
 liis teetli, and casting a look in which suspicion, hatred, and a 
 certain amount even of apjirehension, were strangely mingled, 
 npon Ili(( countenance of tlie attorney's clerk, which, as it was 
 fully discoverable iu the ray of the lamp on the stau's, struck
 
 LILLUS DAVENANT. 113 
 
 Sir Gabriel as one of tho most ugly and villanous he had ever 
 beheld. Indeed, as he followed this man up stairs, an odd sort 
 of speciUation entered the mind of the citizen, and he asked 
 himself whether it were possible that men's habits of thought 
 and action might fix at last a certain stamp ui^on their features. 
 Possibly it was the unpleasant natiu'e of his morning's inter- 
 view with Mr. Jabez Jobbings, T^hose face was certainly 
 anything but prepossessing, followed up by the presentation of 
 another face, in compaa-e with which the features of the afore- 
 said Mr. Jabez Jobbings might have been termed ingenuous 
 and lovely, that introduced these ideas to Sir Gabriel's mind, 
 Never was there a man more unfortunate in this respect than 
 Timothy Stubbs, the clerk of Mr. Nicholas. To an imgamly 
 ])erson, an imhealthy dead white complexion, hair of the coloui* 
 and texture of tow, and featiu'es remarkably uglj^ vulgar, and 
 sinister, Mr. Stubbs united so abominable a squint, that a 
 casual observer might have supposed that he had but one eye, 
 though many persons, to their cost, had foimd that he was in 
 the fidl possessiou of two, for use if not for ornament. Nothing, 
 however, could be more gentle and insinuating than the 
 manners and voice of Mr. Timothy Stubbs ; the crocodile was 
 never as pathetic in its mode of ensnaring a \actim ; but his 
 pathos was by no means of as much use to his master as might 
 have been supposed, for the tawny shell of the monster of the 
 Nile could not more eifectuaUy betray its nature, than did his 
 detestable coimtenance cUscover that of Mr. Timothy Stubbs. 
 Nevertheless, he worked hard for his master. It was no 
 fault of his if Nature had stamped his soul upon his face ; and 
 had Mr. Nicholas possessed a larger share of gratitude than 
 usuallj^ belongs to an attorney, he certainly would have 
 allowed his drudge, Mr. Stubbs, more than fifteen shUliugs 
 per week wherewith to sui)port half-a-dozen httle Stubbses, 
 alias alligators, and a very lazy and tipsy wife. The ingra- 
 titvide on the lawyer's part, however, made no jiist cause of 
 complaint on that of the clerk, whose services had aU the 
 reward they deserved, especially as mischief was with him a 
 complete labour of love. 
 
 It was the pccvdiar character of the smUe which crossed his 
 countenance as he spoke to Sii- Gabriel, that had aroused in the 
 mind of the latter that unwonted speculation as to the pro- 
 bability that evil dispositions might impress their traits on the 
 countenance. 
 
 Tlie consideration, however, was not agreeable. Sir Gabriel 
 knew very AveU that it woidd not become him to wear " his 
 heart upon his sleeve," or upon his face either — ^he therefore 
 dismissed the idea that it was the villanous soul of Timothy 
 Stubbs that had assorted itself in his viQanous face.
 
 114 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 After slio-ning Sir Gabriel into tlie room -whcro liis employer 
 was a^ aiting him, Mr. Stubbs stood at the door with liis head 
 beut in a fashion abjectly cringing ; and on the lawyer some- 
 ■n hat sharply telUug him that he might withdraw, he muttered 
 sometliing about supposing he might be wanted, and retired 
 into the adjoining apartment. That same subtle smile, ho'R'- 
 cvcr, ■s\hich had cUspleased Sir Gabriel, again crossed his face 
 as he entered his own pecuhar den ; and then he indulged in a 
 very low chuckle, as he muttered, " Shut me out of their con- 
 ference ! Oh, oh ! that is so likely, now !" 
 
 Perhaps it may be supposed that Mr. Stubbs forthwith ap- 
 plied his ear to the key-hole of the door between his master's 
 office and his o-mi— by no means, he was far too wise for that — 
 he managed matters much better, he did not adopt such vulgar 
 cverv'-daj^ methods of discovering the secrets of Mr. Nicholas's 
 clients. Among other hunber in the room where Mr. Stubbs 
 worked was a huge greasy high-backed leathern chair, and also 
 agaiast the wall, between the two rooms, a press containing 
 various precious docmnents relative to jMr. Nicholas's most 
 delectable and respectable practice. Now, Mr. Stubbs, for 
 excellent reasons of his own, as wih appear, alwaj^s posted this 
 huge chau" at one corner of the press ; and iipon the present 
 occcasion, so soon as he had closed the door of the apartment, 
 he softly approached the chaii*, knelt down behind it, and 
 drawing an ear-trumpet from his pocket, apphed it to a small 
 hole in the deep skirting board, so that imless the conversation 
 in the next room was carried on in an absolute whisper, he 
 AAas safe to hear every word of it ; and if Mr. Nicholas or any 
 other person should suddenly enter, the great chair would con- 
 ceal his equivocal posture, and he would start up and be busily 
 engaged among the papers in the press. Now this arrange- 
 ment ought, in all conscience, to have satisfied Mr. Stubbs, as, 
 i)y means of it, his master had really very few secrets ; but 
 ingi'atitude is the crymg sin of mortahtj', and ]Mr. Stubbs was 
 ver^' angry that sometimes a few words escaped hhn, and stiU 
 more so, that he coidd not watch the countenance of his em- 
 ployer and the clients during their conferences, for Mr. Stubbs 
 knew very well tliat la\A-.yers and then' chents teU each other 
 most abominable hes, and he flattered himself with being 
 always able to detect men's frauds in their faces. Upon the 
 present occasion, however, he was not very uneasy : he was 
 aware that Sir Gabriel and Mr. Nicholas knew each other 
 rather too weU to venture upon falsehood ; but he had fomid 
 that his master treated the knight after all without any 
 great amount of deference, and was sure from this that the 
 lawyer held some dangerous secret, the nature of which he, 
 Stubbs, had yet to learn.
 
 LILLIAS DAVEXANT. 115 
 
 Could ]\Ir. Sliibl)s have seen the bold look and unbending 
 air •nith which Sir Gabriel was received by Mr. jSTicholas on 
 the night in question, his sense of the importance of the secr^ 
 \\ould have been greatly enlianced. There was no task in the 
 Avorld which Sir G-abriel more thoroughly loathed than an inter- 
 view with his lawyer ; he had been so long used to the abject 
 respect ^\-hich the world pays to wealth, that he was beyond 
 measure irritated and annoyed, at bemg compelled to bear with 
 a man who, while immeasurably his inferior in fortune and posi- 
 tion, would meet him with the bold front of an equal. Fain 
 would Sir Gabriel have placed his law busmcss in other hands, 
 but he would not venture, for very cogent reasons, to do that. 
 
 On this night Mr. Nicholas, with a rare civilit}% did not con- 
 descend to rise from his chair, and motioned the baronet to a seat ; 
 he meant to clo this in a chgnified manner, l)ut chgnity did not 
 sit well on Mr. Nicholas— he was one of the meanest-lookijig 
 men hving— a httle withered mortal, who must have carried 
 the aspect of age in his childhood ; Mr. Nicholas Avas also so un- 
 fortunate as to have Ul health, and his features being rather 
 prominent, and his complexion very dark, he presented much 
 the appearance of a very lean, contemptible, iU-conditioned 
 mumniy, just unrolled after his sleep of a thousand .Aears. The 
 face of Mr. Nicholas was thoroughly impassive. His clerk's 
 fancy of reading countenances, was indeed a fancy as far as he 
 was concerned. 
 
 Now, when Sir Gabriel had called in the morning, he had 
 left with Stubbs an explanation of the busmess ; and though 
 Mr. Nicholas knew well the purport of his visit, vthen Sh- 
 Gabriel said, by way of opening the conversation — 
 
 ''Is not this a most unpleasant affair?" the la-nyer repHed, 
 "Aye, indeed, I did not know that Marion Grey was yd 
 ahve !" 
 
 " !Marion Grey !" reiterated Su* Gabriel, while a sudden 
 paleness overspread his features ; " what do you mean, Nicholas ? 
 I come about this affair of young Vere ; what absiuxl bugbear 
 are you calling up with the name Marion Grey ?" 
 
 "No bugbear at all, my good sir, but a simple fact," rephed 
 the lawyer, di-ily ; " I have seen the woman, and the business 
 of yoimg Vere is, as you must know, but a trifQe in com- 
 liarison !" 
 
 "It is no trifle, sir!" answered the baronet, angrily. "My 
 name, my repute are at stake. "^Tiat will the Earl of Daylsford 
 
 say?" 
 
 "Nothing, my good sir," said the laAvj'er, "provided you 
 present yoiu* daughter with such a portion as may redeem his 
 estates ; besides, Su* Gabriel, you are rich, and do not you 
 know how much money may effect for you against a poor man? 
 
 12
 
 11(3 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 I'll tell j-ou ^\ liat the law will say as to 3-oiu' transactions with 
 the father of Eustace Vere : it a\t11 declare that you cannot at 
 once be buyer and seller ; that to counsel Mr. Vere to seU 
 stock, in order that you might xiurchase it, was illegal. But 
 what then, the action comes on ui the Court of King's Bench, 
 and say that a verdict is given against j'ou ; well, then, we -nTll 
 move the cause into Chanceiy ; and it is hard, indeed, if such 
 a process does not break down a poor youth with not a penny or a 
 friend to help liiin. Why, he could not even have commenced 
 this action without the hundred i)Ounds, which you owned that 
 you SO foohshlj' gave him. However, that matter is trilling — 
 trilling in compare with the appearance of Marion Grey." 
 
 " My good friend," said Sir Gabriel, vrith a ghastly eifort at 
 a laugh, that contrasted fearfully with his livid cheek and 
 quiveiing lip, "what?— what is this you mean as to Marion 
 (jrey ? — I had hoped that woman would never return to England ; 
 but if she has come, weU, well — what was the business with her 
 that we camiot settle ?" 
 
 "A certain httle transaction. Sir Gabriel, in which I had no 
 share," said the lawyer with a sneer; "an offence for which 
 the pains and i)enalties would be somewhat higher than anj' j^ou 
 encounter through Mr. Vere." 
 
 "Pains and penalties!" ejaculated Sir Gabriel; "pray, my 
 good friend, carry out the jest, and tell me what they are!" 
 
 " Simply the gibbet," answered the lawj' er ; " or, it may be, 
 only the hulks."
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 117 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " They are but bird-bolts which 
 Thou dost take for cannon bullets." 
 
 Twelfth Night. 
 
 A LITTLE before tlie time wlieu Sir Gabriel left Portman-square 
 to fulfil his appoiiitmeut with Mr. Nicholas, his son Frederick 
 toolc hmiself to llegent-street, as he had in the morning agreed 
 with Lucy Corbett. 
 
 Frederick MOIman had been, for some little tune past, in the 
 habit of teazing and following Lucj^ in her way home ; and a 
 mingled motive of thoughtlessness and vanity, which more 
 frequently proves the destruction of women than positive vice, 
 had prevented Lucy repelling his attentions with a proper 
 firnmess ; and a few days before she had even suffered hiin to 
 force a gold chain upon her accejitance, though certainly 
 without any fixed intent of breaking her faith with her own 
 absent and honest lover, or of cooUy accepting the dishonour- 
 able overtures of Mr. MiUman, whose name, or place of abode 
 indeed, she was unacquainted with tiU then* chance meeting 
 in his father's house. With regard to the young man himself 
 also, it must be said that his designs as to the miUiner were by 
 no means so nefarious as they aijpeared. Frederick Milhnan 
 had by far too good a heart deUberately to plot the rum of a 
 poor girl, who had only her fair character and her industiy to 
 depend upon ; and he had, in the first instance, dangled after 
 Lucy merely because his particular acquaintance, Sir Harry, 
 had boasted of the number of his inamorata among the pretty 
 milliners, and therefore persuaded Frederick that to be cUsso- 
 lute and imprincipled was necessary to his character as a man 
 of fashion. Thus, for the sake of mere sport and bragging, 
 did the citizen's son commence his pursuit of Lucy Corbett. 
 Upon this ground, also, had Frederick MiUman suffered Sir 
 Harry to drag hun iato other excesses — to the gambling table 
 and the race course ; and if it was reaUy the object of Vere to 
 avenge himself on Sir Gabriel by means of his son he certauily 
 was in a fair way of effecting it. 
 
 The ujxfavom-able state of the weather did not keep Frederick 
 from the meeting, which the young miUtncr had rather allowed 
 than promised ; for he knew, that alike thi'ough raiu and sun-
 
 118 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 sHiue, frost and snow, Lucy Corbett, when her weary clay 
 of work was done, pursued her way lionie, unattended and on 
 foot. 
 
 It was liis custom, on these stolen interviews, to wait for 
 Liioy at the corner of Vigors-street, which she always passed. 
 The niyht was bitterly cold, and, in spite of his abundant 
 luxuries of dress, tlie young man's teeth chattered. People 
 take a great deal of trouble, and suffer much on account of 
 their vices and follies, but Frederick Milhuan did not think 
 of that as there he stood, shaking and shivering, and with 
 the rain and sleet occasionally dashing in his face, while he 
 waited for the coming of a girl greatly his inferior in station, 
 and for whom he did not reaUy care a straw. Presently a 
 tall broad-shoiddered man, in a fustian ch'ess, passed by him, 
 and stared, as Frederick thoxight, rather rudclj' in his face, 
 of ^ hich the imperfect light of the lamps, however, did not 
 furnish a close view. Presently the man passed again, and 
 finally turned down A^gors-street ; \A-hile Frederick, perceiving 
 a female figure approach, which, by the air and step, he 
 knew to be that of Lucy Corbett, ceased to remark the man's 
 movements. 
 
 The ap])earance of Lucy Corbett also prevented Frederick 
 noticing that a man and woman, both aliove the middle height 
 and both fashionably attired, had passed, like himself, imder 
 the Quatb'aut, and commenced walking backwai'ds and for- 
 wards at a httle clistance, apparently in earnest conversation. 
 Meanwhile, Lucy had riuiekened her step, and, as the young 
 man seized her hand, she exclaimed, in an earnest voice, 
 extenchng towards him the gold chain, — 
 
 " Here, sir, take back your chain, — such fine things are not 
 fit for a poor girl like me; and not one minute's peace have I 
 had since you gave it me, for fear my mother shoidd go to 
 my box and see it." 
 
 "What then, mj^ charmer!" said Frederick, in a tone of 
 admiration that was more than half affected ; "your mother 
 is not worth so ])retty a daughter, and you were not born to 
 pass your life in the miserable drudgery of a milliner. Leave 
 your home altogether, and 1 wiU give you a better one." 
 
 "Will you maiTy me, then, sir?" asked Lucy, with great 
 simplicitv'. 
 
 Mr. jViillman laughed: "Oh, we will discuss that question 
 Ijy and by, my darling." 
 
 " I understand you, sir," answered Lucy, weeping ; " and 
 I know that I am a ver>' weak and foolish girl, but not quite 
 so weak or so foolish as not to understand your designs. Do 
 not suppose that I am not aware how greatly they insult me.
 
 m 
 
 LILLIAS DATENANT. 119 
 
 I am very poor, sir, but iliovc is pride for tlie poor as well as 
 for the rich. I am too proud to bo any man's mistress, even, 
 if he were a lord. But it serves me right that you should 
 affront me as you have done ; I never should have encouraged 
 you to speak to me ; and I was a silly girl to think that a 
 rich gentleman, such as you, ever meant to maiTy me, and a 
 base and wicked girl to think of breaking my word with a 
 worthy, lionest young man, because he is poor, and has to 
 work fur his bi'ead." 
 
 As Lucy ceased speaking she agam proffered to young 
 Millmau the little morocco case coutauiiug the ^old chain. 
 Frederick, as before observed, was much move foolish and 
 thoughtless than wicked, and he was not only confused but 
 even distressed by the reproof of Lucy ; but fashion, vanit.y, 
 and the fear of ricUcule, prevailed over his better feelings. He 
 had boasted to Sir Harry A^ere and his profligate compauiony 
 of his expected triumpli, and he dreaded the sneers and gibes 
 which he knew would be showered on him were he foiled ui 
 the conqviest of a milliner. He affected, therefore, to laugh at 
 Lucy's scruples ; and, diwing her arm tightly within his 
 own, he commenced expatiating on the luxuries and ease in 
 which she might indulge would she resolve to accept his pro- 
 posals. 
 
 " You shall live like a lady, httle gu-l," he said; "and as 
 to this poor devil of a lover, you must not let any romance 
 about him ruin your prospects." 
 
 " No, no," interrupted the deep and bitter voice of the 
 mechanic, whom Frederick had before noticed, and who had 
 stolen unperceived close to hmi and Lucy while they wei*e 
 speaking ; " no, no ; nothing but her own laziness and vanity 
 will ruin her ; but she shall not walk off with any rascal of a 
 gentleman before her father's face." 
 
 As he spoke, the mechanic violently wrenched Lucy's arm 
 from that of Mr. Millman, and continued, in a voice choking 
 with rage — 
 
 " Come home, you worthless jade ; yoiu' poor mother told 
 me she feared you were up to no good. Come home, and 
 think yourself lucky if I do not knock your brains out before 
 "we get there." 
 
 The coarseness and fuiy of the mechanic's demeanour, no 
 less thau the grossness of his language, not only irritated 
 Frederick MiUman, but even alarmed him for Liicy's safetj' ; 
 and, arresting the steps of Corbett, as he was dragging her 
 awa.y, he said — 
 
 "I am not going, sir, since you behave with so much 
 violence, to offer any apology to you for the proposals which
 
 120 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 I liare made to youi* daugliter; but I beg you cleai-ly to 
 understand that she has most decidedly repulsed them, and 
 you have no right to treat her ill because I affronted her." 
 
 " Get out of my Tray, you rascally pui^py!" cried Corbett, 
 whose violence had now drawn together the few pedestrians 
 who were abroad on that dreaiy night. "I shall do as I 
 please with my own daughter, and I'll iiog her within an inch 
 of her Hfe." 
 
 '■ You are a cowardly scoimdrel," exclaimed Frederick, 
 " and you woidd not, I dare say, threaten so much to your 
 son, if you have one!" 
 
 " "Woiddu't I? I'd treat him now j\ist as I do you," roared 
 the mechanic, dealing Frederick so violent a blow in the face 
 that he staggered, and would have fallen, but for the extended 
 ann of the gentleman who had been walking in the Quadi-ant 
 Ijefore the arrival of Lucy Corbett. 
 
 The mob, which had been drawn together by the noise, 
 knew nothinp; of the origin of the quarrel, and the Ijinital 
 ^dolence of the mechanic, both towards Frederick and the 
 young girl, impressed the people against hini ; and while loud 
 cries of shame were heard, the foremost of the crowd imt 
 foiTvard their hands to arrest him, and way was made for a 
 pohceman to take liim hi charge. 
 
 Frederick Millman's mouth was fidl of blood, and, while he 
 endeavoured to speak, Corbett took care, iu a most exag- 
 gerated manner, to infoi-m the b^'standers that the " young 
 swell," as he termed him, had been ti-jing to seduce his 
 daughter. 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is it?" cried one of the mob to a com- 
 panion. " Come along. Bill, I thought as that ere young feller 
 looked a wast deal too flash. We knows all about what such 
 chaps as he is. Pity he hasn't got his precious peeper knocked 
 out." 
 
 " Oh, you young willin !" cried one of the fair sex, who was 
 vainlj' endeavouring to approach Mr. MiUman, " I should like 
 to make you feci my nails, that I should. To think as a poor 
 ooman can't awoid being moll.^■ested by sich wagabonds as 
 you ! I liatcs such fellers, I does !" 
 
 Tlie speaker happened to be verj' ugly, and a wag, who had 
 got a full ^iew of her face in the lamias, cried, " It isn't you 
 as is much moll.yested I thinks, missis. Lord, wot a salwatiou 
 for a ooman to be ugl}' !" 
 
 " Does you mean to insinuate as I am ugly, you imperant 
 jackanapes ?" cried tlie lady, making so hostile a demonstra- 
 tion against the wit, that he ducked his head to avoid it, and as 
 the crowd then laughed at the fair one's disappointment, she
 
 tILLIAS DAVENAKT. 121 
 
 Ibouglit it best to make lier way out of it, whicli she did with 
 all possible speed . 
 
 Meautimc tlie policeinau bad offered to take Corbett iu 
 cliarft'e, but I'rodcvick woidil not commit lum, sayino; lie was 
 conscious that he had himself given the first provocation, and 
 only had to repeat, that he trusted the mechanic would not 
 visit his otTence on the head of his daughter. 
 
 To tliis Corbett replied, in a somewhat sullen manner, that he 
 supposed he must take his word, and he woidd say no more to 
 his daughter on the subject ; he then dragged Lucy away, but 
 in so rough a manner, that the policeman following him ex- 
 pressed his regret that the gentleman had not given hhn in 
 charge. 
 
 As for Frederick, the frankness of his apology had turned 
 Ihe fickle mob agam iu his favour, and they marched off, more 
 than one of their nmnber observing that " The young feller did 
 not seem such a bad chap after all." 
 
 The gentleman who had prevented Frederick from falling 
 had stdl remained, and when thankmg him for liis assistance, 
 young MUlman ])rescnted his card ; the former, after holding 
 it to the light of a lamp, handed i t to his female companion, 
 and then begged the young man to accompany him to his lodg- 
 ings, which were, he said, in Old Burliugton-street, and take a 
 glass of wine to their better acquaintance. 
 
 " I have but lately arrived in London, Mr. Milhnan," he 
 said, in conclusion, " havmg been many years abroad, and am 
 accompanied thither by a friend, the husband of this lady, 
 whose deranged health indeed is the main source of our visit to 
 London." 
 
 " Do come and sup with us," said the female, advancing un- 
 der the light of the lamp, and throwing up her veil so as to dis- 
 cover a somewhat bold but very beautiful countenance; "we 
 are strangers in London, and a visitor now and then would con- 
 fer on us a real cheering." 
 
 " I am not, however, a stranger in Lolidon, Mrs. Marvel, if 
 you are," said the stranger, handing at the same time a card to 
 Fredei*ick, on which was engraven the name of Tracy ; " my 
 youth was passed in this great town, and possibly my name may 
 not be ^mknOT^^a to Mr. Millman." 
 
 " Indeed, sh !" replied Frederick, and the ciuiek ej^e of Tracy 
 perceived that the card shghtly ti-embled in his hand as he 
 spoke, " your name is familiar to my earliest recollections ; 
 might I presume to ask if you were related to the deceased Mr. 
 Tracy, of Broad- street?" 
 
 " He was my uncle," resjjonded the sti'anger, a bitter smile, 
 imperceptible to Frederick in the duskiness of night, hovering 
 for a moment upon his hp.
 
 122 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 "Ail. sir," answered. Frederick, '•'your name too I liave often 
 heard from my parents ; I sliall indeed be liappy to imi)rove om* 
 acciuaiutance. It ■^\'as in tlie eraploj' of yoiu" uncle tkat my 
 father's fortunes took their rise ; how gi"eatl.y he was obhgcd to 
 Mr. Tracy in the outset of his hfe I am aware." 
 
 " I should scarcely have thouffht so," rephed. Tracy, in a dry 
 tone, as the party proceeded down Vigors-street ; " men so 
 prosperous as I knov\' Sir Gabriel MilJman to liave been, rarely 
 preserve a strong recollection of the friends of their early life. 
 JPerhaiis, however, gratitude is a good fashion of the new school, 
 to make amends for its many bad ones ; for I confess to you, 
 Mr. ^Iillman, my prejudices are rather with the stj'le in which 
 my uncle used to live, in the days of his prosperity', than with 
 that of your father. I confess to an affectionate remembrance 
 of his country seat no further from London than the fair ])oi*- 
 ders of Ei^ping Forest : so that, like a right old English mer- 
 chant, the last of his school, he could retire to ruralize on 
 Smidaj', and return to his house in Broad-sti'eet on i\Ionday 
 morning in his coach-and-four. But those were fashions, Mr. 
 ]\IiUman, at which if you have anj' inchnation to laugh, I can 
 well excuse you." 
 
 To this sunnise Frederick made a deprecatory reply ; and, 
 indeed, was somewhat surprised to find himself passing the 
 evening so pleasantly, when, about an hour" afterwards, he was 
 seated at an elegant supper in a drawing-room of one of the 
 large old-fashioned houses in Old Burhngton-street, amused, 
 alike by the lively sallies of the beautiful Mrs. ]\Iarvel, and the 
 deep world-knowledge displayed hy Mr. Tracy ; while he felt 
 himself not a little interested in the gentle manners of an elegant 
 but sickly-looking man, to whom he was introduced as the hus- 
 band of the lad}'. 
 
 Meanwhile, the day with LiUias Davenant had been dreary 
 enough. In addition to the pang of learning, from the lips of 
 Genevieve herself, that she was indeed the affianced bride of Lord 
 Langley, she had tasted on that d&y the full bitterness of the task 
 of teacliing — of the hfe of a governess ; for no sooner had the do- 
 mestic squall which had been the result of the visit of Mr. Jabez 
 Jobbings in some measm-e subsided, than Lady ]\Iillman had car- 
 ried her off to the schoolroom, where she M'as introduced to three 
 noisj" ill-behaved girls, aU younger than Miss Ada, that young 
 lady, and her brother Aiigustus, being also of the niunber of 
 Jier ])upils. The dinner of Lilhas and her sister was tins day 
 served in the schooh'oom, from which she was not emancipated 
 till tlie clock struck eight, when Alice, to her great discomfiture, 
 was forced to retire with her cousins ; and her wearied sister 
 was informed that Lady Millman Avished to see her in the draw- 
 in g-rooin.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 123 
 
 " My dear Lillias," tlipn said her aunt, wlien she entered, "I 
 hare been quite reckoning; on the cliihiren'a bed-time to haA'e 
 you come and play me a few tunes on the piano, for I am quite 
 didl all by myself. Sir Gabriel has been oblifjed to go out 
 about that nasty busmess of the lawyers. Frederick had an 
 appointment, and Miss Genevieve has gone to-bed in the si dies 
 as usual, because, I suppose, she is not pleased with something 
 her father has said to her. I am sure I don't know what that 
 girl wants. Sir Galiriel thinks a deal more of her than of 
 my chddren, to his shame be it spoken." Into family disi^utcs 
 of course Lillias did not wish to enter, and therefore proceeded 
 to the piano, where Lady Millman charitablj' kept her playing 
 and singing for two mortal hours ; when the ti'ay was brought 
 in, and when they had supped, worn out with fetigue both oi 
 bod.y and mind, Lilhas was but too glad to avail herself of her 
 aunt's permission to retu"e.
 
 124 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 
 
 CHAPTER XVni. 
 
 " 'Tis only when, with inbred horror smote, 
 At some base act, or done or to be done. 
 That the recoiling soul, with conscious dread, 
 Slu-inks back into itself !" — Mason. 
 
 To the utter astouisliment of Lillias, wlien slie rose at her visual 
 early liour ou the second morning of her abode in the house of 
 Sir Gabriel Millman, she found a letter on her dressing-table, 
 tlie superscription of wliich was in the well-known writing of 
 her luysterious friend Gerald Tracy. The first thought of Lil- 
 lias, even before opening the epistle, was to examine her cham- 
 ber door, which she found fast locked as she had left it on the 
 preceding night. The letter, however, was lying in so conspi- 
 cuous a place, that she felt certain that she had not overlooked 
 it on entering her chamber ; she could, therefore, only arrive 
 at the conviction that some ];)erson had entered it from the 
 di'essing-closet, which communicated ■\\-ith a back staircase, 
 chiefly used by the servants. The key had been withdrawn 
 from the door which opened upon this staircase, and LiUias 
 ]iad contented herself with merely slipping a httle bolt on its 
 inner side; and now, on examining this bolt, she found it so 
 loose, and the cre\'ice between the door and its framework so 
 wide, that the bolt might be shipped either backwards or for- 
 wards by the introduction of a knife. By no means pleased 
 with this facility, which it seemed some person in the house had 
 taken advantage of to introduce themselves into her chamber, 
 Lillias adcbessed herself to the perusal of Tracy's letter. 
 
 " Be not alarmed, Lillias," it began, " at the unexpected receipt 
 of this communication. You have, doubtless, already learned 
 that money can effect wonders ; therefore be not surprised that 
 it has secured me an agent in the house of Sii" Gabriel Mdhnan. 
 TJiat tedious task, in ■\\ hicli you know I am engaged, has un- 
 expectedly comi)e]lcd my presence in London ; where, as unex- 
 pectedly, I have this evening become acquainted with the hoi^e- 
 fid heir of your imcle. It is probable you will hear hhn speak 
 of me ; and it is my ])leasure, for the furtherance of those ini- 
 ]iortant projects of ^hich you are aware, that you i^rofess no 
 kno^n ledge of me. I shall not, as a'ou may well suppose, be- 
 come a visitor in th^ Jiousc of Sir Gabriel. I am, for the pre-
 
 LILLIA3 DAVENANT, 125 
 
 scut, lodging in Old Biu-lingfcon-street, wbitlier you may direct 
 any letter. By-tlie-bye, let me have one rnmiediately ; let me 
 know what impression you have already received of the family 
 of j'oiu" admu-able imcle. All! LiUias, laelieve me, I would not 
 for a moment leave yon and the darling Ahce exposed to the 
 insults and tyranny of Su* Gabriel and his childi'en, cUd not a 
 stern necessity compel it. It seems however to me, that the 
 young man, Frederick, is not altogether unamiable ; it will be 
 well for him should he manifest some good qualities ; it maj^ 
 brighten the future, which, despite of his present exaltation, 
 frowns so darkly over the vile crmhnal his father. Coui*age, 
 LiUias, I know all that is passmg around you ; I know that 
 there was a pompous display of your uncle's wealth, on the 
 night of your arrival; that his daughter was loaded -nith jewels 
 when she received j'ou : what a delicious triumph was that for 
 Sir Gabriel to secure over the child of Henry Davenant ! But 
 courage still, LiUias; human affairs, lilfe this great material 
 globe itself, revolve upon an axis ; the rapid turning of fortime's 
 wheel wiU, ere long, precipitate from his giddy height your false 
 uncle. But, above all, LiUias, beware how you are deceived by 
 any manifestations of Idndness or generosity' on the part of Sir 
 Gabriel MiUman ; he has injured you too bitterly, not to hate 
 you stiU more: it is an imfailing rule, that be you ever so mag- 
 nanunous, the wicked T\aU not forgive you the mischiefs they 
 have inflicted ; beware, oh, beware, for ever of the seeming 
 kmdness, of the friendship of your uncle. I sui^pose, too, you 
 have by this time heard of the approaclung marriage of liis 
 daughter with Lord Langley ; the upstart citizen would not fail 
 to boast of that. Be assured, LiUias, that marriage wiU talce 
 place. Lord Langley is too weak, too vain, too selfish, to abide 
 by the vows wliich he made to yourself: ask yoiu* own reason, 
 if love have left you any, whether he can be an honourable 
 man, who fettered j'ou with vows, and concealed his own most 
 solemn engagements to another woman— can be worth an ho- 
 noui'able woman's heart. Oh, I have not the sensibihties of 
 your sex, my i^recious LiUias ; but I have known the pangs of 
 chsappointed love for a most worthless object ; spare yourself 
 those pangs, I beseech you ; notliing but disappointment, 
 misery, ruin, can be the result of yoiu' passion for Lord Langlej'. 
 Not oiUy are the estates of his father mortgaged to the last 
 acre, but the yoimg man himself is overwhehnecl with debt, and 
 is an inveterate gambler ; he must have the money to pay those 
 debts, and he must procui-e it by a marriage with Genevieve 
 MiUman ; and I, LiUias — I teU you, that not less for the sake 
 of his famUy, than for his own, does he merit the deep disgrace 
 in which that aUiance wiU inevitably end. Be warned then,
 
 126 LILLIAS DAVENAXT. 
 
 Lillias, in lime ; and for tlie sake of youi' owii noble pride, by 
 the laeraor^' of j'our deceased parents, by yoiu* just resentment 
 for their A^Tongs, chsmiss this vain and T\-orthless man of fashion 
 from A'our thoughts. I must no^^■ bid you farewell ; I shall not 
 have many opportunities of seeing you in London, or, indeed, 
 long remain there; but I shall know all that passes in the 
 liouse of Sir Gabriel MUlman. Do not, however, trust the 
 posting of your letters to me to any other hands than your 
 own ; the person who has i^romised to place this letter on your 
 dressing-table during the night, has reasons for not becoming 
 known to you. Farewell then, once more, dearest daughter of 
 my affections ; I shall wait impatientlj' for the letter which shall 
 assure me that you are true to yourself and have shaken off 
 your weak attachment to Lord Langlej- ! " 
 
 A bitter smile curled the lip of Lillias, as she refolded this 
 letter ; ho'O" little did she think the writer understood her ; but 
 she would answer him immediately, she would assure him tliat 
 her high cUsdain of Lord Langley exceeded his own. Alas ! 
 poor LUlias, how httle did she know herself! 
 
 LilUas, on this the third day of lier residence in her uncle's 
 house, took her breakfast in the schoolroom with her pupils 
 and Alice, to whom, as the child was still sleei^ing when she 
 found the communication from Tracy, she had not mentioned 
 the having received it. LOlias was not sui-prised when the 
 servant who brought in tlie breakfast, informed her that she 
 was to partake it in the school-room; Lady Milhnan had taken 
 care, on the preceding day, to make her fully understand that 
 she was to encounter all the humiliations and render aU the 
 services of a governess, in her uncle's house. 
 
 The untoward appearance of Jabez Jobbings, too, had pre- 
 vented Ldhas entering into that serious conversation with her 
 uncle, as to the disposal of Alice which she had proi)Osed, and 
 now the morning meal was not half concluded, before the rude 
 tricks and insiJting speeches of Master Augu.stus brought 
 tears into the ])oor cliild's eyes. 
 
 " Oh, poor moppet!" then shouted the brutal boy. " "What 
 a pity her tender heart is touched! what a watery head she has 
 got, too ! " 
 
 " Silence,"sir!" said Lillias, who had perceived, on the night 
 of her arrival, that slie must, even at the risk of immediate dis- 
 missal, exert an imflLnchiug authority over children so evil- 
 conditioned as her cousins, or consent that herself and her 
 sister should be at once degraded into the butts of their malice 
 and ricUculc. 
 
 "AMio are you? who are you?" cried the boj', throwing 
 himself back in his chair, making mouths at Lillias, and kick-
 
 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 127 
 
 ins the table so violently that lie set tlie cups and saucers 
 dancing, and liad nearly overtimied tlie urn full of boiling 
 Avatcr. " A\Tio cares for au old governess tliat's obliged to 
 leach us for money ?" 
 
 Lillias made no reply, but pidled the bell. It must be 
 owned that her proud and lofty spirit thorougldy unfitted her 
 for the basest of all feminine emplo^inents, that of a governess. 
 One of the footmeu answered the smnmons, mqiming, with an 
 expression of some surprise on his countenance, what she 
 wanted ; he had not been accustomed to hear the school-room 
 bell i-ung in so imperious a manner. 
 
 "Thomas," answered Lillias, "you will be so good as to 
 take Master Augustus and lock him in the next room ; 
 when he knows how to behave himself like a yoimg gentleman, 
 I may peniiit him to sit down agam with me and his sisters." 
 
 *' But I won't go ; I won't go. Let him touch me, if he 
 dares; and I won't move a step myself," retorted the infant 
 nilRan. 
 
 " I did not suppose that you M'oidd move a step j-ourself," 
 returned Lilhas ; " and that was why I rang for Thomas to 
 carrv you away." 
 
 " Let him come near me, that's all," roared Master Augustus, 
 leaning still farther back in his chair, and elevating his feet 
 upon the table, on which he hammered with the heels of his 
 boots, staining the damask cloth with the mud -n hich he had 
 brought in from the shi-ubbery of the square, where he had 
 been running before breakfast. 
 
 "Lord love you, miss!" whispered the footman, to Lillias, 
 " You had better leave the young devil alone ; my lady always 
 takes his part : you'll never conquer liim." 
 
 " I will either conquer him, or leave the house," answered 
 Lillias, adding, in a louder tone, " Take Master Augustus into 
 the next room, Thomas." 
 
 The footman accordingly advanced to execute this order, 
 but was immediately saluted with some hot tea ; and only by 
 suddenly raising his arm, avoided the cup itself being dashed 
 in his face. This aftront angered the sers-ant himself, T^ho 
 forthwith laid so ungentle a hand on Master Augustus, that 
 he yelled out as if he was being niui'dercd ; and ere Thomas, 
 as he kicked and spra-n led most stoutly, could cb-ag him oif his 
 seat, the outer door of the apartment was burst violently open, 
 and Lady Milhnau, rushing to the rescue of her darling, in- 
 quired, with a furious accent, by whose orders the man had 
 dared to touch hmi. 
 
 " By mine, madam," calmly repHed Lillias, interposing, de- 
 spite the flashing eyes and reddened face of Lady Mi II in an,
 
 128 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 between licr and the object of her wrath. " Augustus was 
 insolent to my sister ; and I desired Thomas to put him into 
 the next room till he knew how to behave better." 
 
 " Oh, deary me, deary me. Miss Davenant," cried Lady 
 MUlman, " this won't do at all ! you must try and acquire the 
 mildness' that is necessary for a governess. It is clear to 
 me that you have taken a si)ite against that poor boy : he told 
 me how he was served the night ,you came here. Of course 
 he's got a spu'it ; and all tlie better, I say. If .you were to use 
 mild means with him, he'd be as gentle as a lamb." 
 
 "Augustus was very rude," cried one of the younger gii'ls, 
 whom he was always j)inching and fighting. 
 
 " You hold your tongue, miss, and eat yovir breakfast !" said 
 Lady Millman, darting a fuj'ious look at the Avitness against 
 her favourite, who, on his part, tried to squeeze out a few tears, 
 and said, in a blvibbering accent: "I was only having some 
 fun -with Alice, but she's a cry-baby, and Lillias always takes 
 her part." 
 
 Lady Milhuan then threw herself into a seat, and drawing 
 the boy nearer, began \^dping his face, and kissing him as if 
 he had been cruelly dl-used ; mumbling over again her recom- 
 mendations, of mild measures. 
 
 "I should be glad to understand, madam," said LiUias, in the 
 same cool tone in which she had before addressed Lady Mill- 
 man, " what you mean by mUd measures ? I do not think it was 
 A'eiy harsh one, to order Augustus into the next room, when 
 lie had not only, I repeat, cruelly teased and insulted Alice, 
 but very nearly, and purposely, overturned the tea-urn upon 
 his own sisters, on whom the water would certainly have fallen. 
 I must tell you now, once for all, Lady Milhnan, if I am to 
 undertake the task of instructing your family, I tstH have such 
 an authority as will enable me reaUy to fulfU it. Augustus 
 appears to me, not only a very rude, but a very bad-dis- 
 posed boy ; and I will either immediately resign my office in 
 your house, Lady Mdlman, or he shall be taught to re- 
 spect me." 
 
 "Pretty behaviour, indeed! fine airs and graces from a 
 governess !" cried Lady Millman. " Oh ! pack up 3'our things, 
 and be off, as soon as you please, miss." 
 
 " Do nothing of the sort," exclaimed the stern voice of Sir 
 Gabriel, who, vmpcrceived by Lillias, whose back was towards 
 tlie door, liad followed his Avife into tlie apartment, and ii^it- 
 nesaed the wliole scene. "And you. Master Augustus, go into 
 the next room, as your cousin ordered you, and do not pre- 
 sume to leave it without her ijcmiission." 
 
 The boy trembled at the tone and look with which this
 
 LILLIAS DAVENAXT. 129 
 
 command was accompauied, and witlidrawing liimsclf from his 
 mother's side, he east a sullen look at Lillias. and with a slow 
 step prepared to leave the room. Lady Milbnan, however, 
 was not to be contradicted quietly ; and pulling the boy back, 
 she screamed out, " He shall not go, poor dear boy, to be shut 
 up in a cold room, all by himself. You ought to be ashamed 
 ot yourself, Sir Gabriel, to think of such a tiling, when you 
 know how ill the dear boy was only last week ; but it's 
 only one of your children that you care for ; everybody knows 
 that." 
 
 This taunt had anji^liing but the desbed effect, for the 
 threatening look which the baronet cast upon his wife almost 
 startled Lillias, whUe, in a voice of thunder, he again ordered 
 the boy to leave the room. Augustus oljeyed, and Lady Mill- 
 man fell back in hysterics. Lillias was advancing to assist her, 
 but her luicle drew her away, exclaiming, with a bitter sneer, 
 "Leave her alone, Lillias; she'll come to herself the sooner. 
 Oh ! do not look surprised ; you will quickly get used to wit- 
 nessing these little domestic broils. But come with me for a 
 few minutes ; I have a letter for you ; it came in just now ysiih 
 my countiy correspondence." 
 
 As he spoke, Sir Gabriel led his niece into the library, and, 
 delivering a letter to her, on which she uumediately recognised 
 the handflTiting of Lady Emily, he lixed a keen, scmtiuiziug 
 glance on her countenance. The surprise rendered Lillias, at 
 the moment, unable to command her own, and her cheek varied 
 from red to pale, as her imcle, with an air of aifeeted 
 playfulness, seated her hi a large arm-chair, and said, " There, 
 now, my dear niece, read your letter quietly, while I look 
 over the morning papers. I know you will not be able to im- 
 derstand it, with those noisy children about you ; and I dare 
 say that it contains a great deal of very interesting intelligence, 
 though it does come from a lady correspondent. I know who 
 it comes from, too. Ah ! you little sly rogue, you could not 
 tell me, the other night, that you were acriuainted with Lady 
 Emily Langley, and, of coui'se, with her brother ; and I, like a 
 simple old fellow, forgot how near Beechgrove is to St. Mary's 
 Vale. But read yoiu* letter now, and then tell me by what 
 happy chance you have crept into the good fjraces of proud 
 Lady Emily, and what opinion you have formed of Lord Lang- 
 ley. I dare say you have been very hard on the poor fellow, 
 and that his sister rates lum bitterly in that folio of correspon- 
 dence !" 
 
 "It seems a long letter, indeed, sir," said Lillias, who, wlnle 
 she tiu'ued it over mthout breaking the seal, fouiul that it con- 
 tained au enclosure. " I will defer reading it till the evening." 
 
 K
 
 130 LiLLiAS date>:akt. 
 
 " iS'ousense, nonsense ! read it now," said Sir Gabriel, sliarplj^ ; 
 rnd, to avoid suspicion even, Lillias tore it open, but witli her 
 fingers tTcmbliug so violently, that the enclosure fell on the 
 ground. She hastily picked it up, but not, she feared, so 
 quickly but that Sir Gabi'iel caught a glance of the writing ; 
 and she fancied there was sarcasm in liis tone as he said, 
 " You seem strangely disturbed ; indeed, Lilhas, jou had betttr, 
 perhaps, read your letter in the evening."
 
 I.ILLIA8 DAVENANT. 131 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 " I dare be sworn, she is not altered 
 From what I left her at our parting last ! 
 
 . . . On my life, this is the man 
 Stands fair in crossing her love to me !" 
 
 JVilc/i of Edmonton. 
 
 It -vras witli a heart pamfully tkrobbing, a braiii dizzy witli 
 apprclicnsion, that Lillias accepted her imcle's permission to 
 withcbaw. "A guilty conscience," says the adage, "needs no 
 accusing." LiUias knew that she was not guihy : she was, m 
 the present standing of the affair mth Lord Langley, the vic- 
 tim of his guilt, of his dishonourable deception. She could 
 take no blame to herself for accepting those vows of love which 
 she knew not were due to another. But all the morbid pride of 
 her nature was aroused : she was almost mad with anger and 
 confusion at the thought that Su* Gabriel Milhnan might learn 
 that the maji who was to many his daughter had amused him- 
 self by trifl-iug with her dearest affections. She had picked up 
 the enclosure, on which she had seen the writing of Lord Lang- 
 ley, very quickly, it is true ; but not, she feared, so cxuickly but 
 that she might entertam a grave doubt that it had been reco- 
 gnised by her uncle. She had, however, foimd courage to say, 
 with at least an appearance of calmness, that she would prefer 
 reading her letters in the evening ; but had not failed to mark 
 the bitter sneer which curled her imcle's lip, as she withdi-ew 
 from the library-. Fain would Lilhas at once have proceeded 
 to her chamber, and perused these missives, wliich had filled her 
 with a kind of consternation ; but she was to become acquainted 
 immediately with the fact that no governess must presume to 
 call one moment of her time her o-mi — at least, from the hour 
 when her pupils awake in the morning, tiU they reth'e to their 
 beds at night. 
 
 Scarcely had Lillias closed the Ubrary-door behind her, when 
 she encountered her aunt's waitmg-maid, who, tossing her head, 
 said, with a tone as impertinent as her manner, — 
 
 '■ Oh, if j'ou please. Miss Davenant, j'ou are to go to the 
 young ladies, in the schoolroom, directly. My lady jvist sent 
 me to look after you ; and she thinks it time that you looked 
 after theii" lessons." 
 
 To this speech LiUias made no reply, and the waiting-maid, 
 
 k2
 
 132 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 more deeply mortiiied by her silence than by anything she 
 could have said, went oiT, muttering, — 
 
 " IS^ice au's she gives herself, for a girl with not a penny in 
 her pocket, marching off without answering me, as if I wasn't 
 as good flesh and blood as she is ! I am sure I don't see that a 
 gOA'erness is better than any other sen^ant !" 
 
 On returning to the schoolroom, Lillias found that Lady 
 MiUman had withdrawn T\ith her favourite Augustus ; nor did 
 Miss Ada fail, ^ith a concentration of si)ite, to say, that mamma 
 had taken Augustus to her dressing-room, and that mamma 
 said Alice should not stay a week in the house, if she was so 
 quaiTelsome. 
 
 " Nor do I intend that she should stay ; and you may tell 
 your mamma that I saj so !" replied Lillias. adding a command 
 to Miss Ada to bring the lessons which she had marked for 
 studj- on the previous day. 
 
 Very wearily the morning passed with Lillias in insti'ucting 
 her cousins. The letter from Lord Langley, which she had 
 tlunist into her bosom, she did not dare to read before those 
 children, who were as hnpertinent as they ■\^erc idle and stupid ; 
 and the sijigle comfort which she enjoyed during the hours of 
 study was that of seeing her poor little sister quietly engaged 
 with her needle or a book, as her cousins were not at leisure to 
 annoy her. In the midst, however, of her personal anxieties, 
 Lillias was sensible of some sui'prise at the non-appearance of 
 Genevieve, who, on the pre\'ious morning, had even interrupted 
 the stucUes hy her jirolouged visit to the sclioolroom. Then, 
 remembering that Lady Millman had spoken of her step- 
 daugjiter as being someM'hat indisposed on the previous night, 
 she inquired of Ada if her sister was ill ; and, receiving an 
 answer in the negative, concluded that her aunt had possibly 
 requested Genevieve to refrain from the repetition of that visit. 
 
 It was the intention of Lillias to speak to her tmcle on this 
 day of her design of placing iilice at school ; and which design, 
 in the midst of her confusion at the receipt of Lord Langley 's 
 letter, she had forgotten to mention. To her great mortifica- 
 tion, ho\\'ever, she was informed by the servant who brought in 
 the dinner that Sir Gabriel had gone out to his usual business 
 in the city, and bad left word that he should not be home till 
 late at night ; and thus the conversation so necessaiT to the 
 comfort and welfare of poor little Alice was again deferred. 
 The day being wet and gloomy, the children coidd not take 
 their usual v.alk ; and thankful indeed was Lillias when the 
 hour for their retiring had an-ivccl. Alice pleaded hard for 
 half an hour along -with her sister ; but Miss Ada protesting 
 that she would not go to bed if lier cousin was to sit up, Ldhas 
 ^\luspcred to the poor child that she would wake her ^vhen she
 
 LILLIAS DAYENANT. 133 
 
 came to bed herself; and Alice witlidrew soiTOwfully witli the 
 other children, leaving her sister, however, not ill pleased to 
 escape even her innocent observation, while she pernsed the 
 letters of Lord Langley and his sister. Kind, generous, true- 
 hearted Lady Emily ! her letter certainly did not merit to be 
 thro^vn aside \\ ith such an impatient air, and that of her arbi- 
 trary, impatient, selfish brother so eagerly perused. 
 
 The proud blood burned upon the cheek of Lillias, when her 
 eye caught the expressions of ardent love \A'ith which the 
 letter of Lord Langlej^ commenced, rememberiug that he was 
 the affianced husband of her coiisin ; but that angiy flush was 
 soon subdued, and tears of pity and tenderness fell fast upon 
 the paper, as she perused the seemingly candid and generous 
 confessions of error with which it teemed. " I doubt not, 
 Lillias," conmaenced Lord Langley, upon that subject wliicli lay 
 so heavy at her heart, " that already, in the house of your 
 micle, you have heard how far have proceeded the arrange- 
 ments for an alliance which my knowledge of yourself renders 
 almost too hateful to be named. Pardon me, Lillias, pardon 
 me for that guilty and shamefid deception, which was suggested 
 by your o^vn rigorous sense of honour ; alas ! it was early in 
 our acquaintance, but not before I had submitted to jour 
 fascinations that heart which had been indeed awarded to your- 
 cousin, that I perceived how your noble pride woidd revolt 
 from the love of a man who was even temporarily the affianced 
 husband of another, and I woidd not sacrifice the hope of 
 winning your heart. Beheve me, too, Lillias, tha,t love had 
 nothing to do -with my engagement to Gene^Heve Milbnan ; yet 
 do me not the greater wrong of supposing that I entered into a 
 base calculation as to the money which her father was to pay^ 
 in order to obtain for her the title wliich was his sole induce- 
 ment to propose that man-iage. I acknowledge, though I love 
 her not, that Genevieve MiUiuan is beautifid and amiable ; that 
 she merits, perhaps, a heart wholly devoted to her : that she 
 may be capable of the tenderness of the dove ; and that though. 
 I never so far mistook myself as even to imagine that I was m love 
 with her, her seemiug gentleness and purity inspired me with 
 a kind of attachment as gentle and passionless as herself ; and 
 I was even pleased -n-ith the idea of my marnage with a creatiire 
 of such exceeding beauty. I fancy that, m your generosity, 
 you will, when you read this avowal, lament what you will 
 perhaps consider our unfortunate meeting. Do not, 1 beseech 
 you. such an injustice either to me or to yourself; rather 
 imagine that it is well for Gene^-ieve that she ^^■as not united to a 
 man who might perhaps have, before long, felt even cUsgust at 
 the quietude or insipidity of her manners. I think this result 
 would have been the more likely, because I am deeply conscious
 
 134 XILLIAS DAVENANT, 
 
 that it is a fascination tli8 direct reverse of any i^ossessed 
 by j-our cousin tliat has attracted me in yoii : for I will not 
 so afiront yoiu' excellent sense, as to compare your mere 
 physical correctness of feature with the face of your cousin, 
 which is too much, indeed, a mere model for the scidptor — too 
 perfect : for a sold of intelligence and passion, shining thi'ough 
 those features, had deprived them of theu' statuesque pre- 
 cision. Well, then, is it for us all that I met you, ere my lot 
 was linked for ever to that of Genevieve Millman, for just in. 
 the proportion that I am attracted by the sweet variations of 
 your manner — tender, witty, melancholy, by tui'ns— just so 
 much should I have been wearied by the dubiess of Genevieve. 
 Yes, Lillias, you are more beautifid than your cousin. Beauty 
 does not consist in the mere form, with which we may endow a 
 figure of wax : that is beauty which startles us at diiferent 
 moments with the suddenness of its aspect, the variety of its 
 charm ; and that is your beauty, my own Lillias, whom I have 
 seen clrooping, pale, and i)ensive as a cloistered nun, or 
 brilliant as the rose first bursting from its bud. I dare flatter 
 myself, then, that you will excvise a passion inspii-ed by yoiu"- 
 self, and believe, also, that my vanity Jias not so robbed me 
 of penetration, that I fear inflicting any great, any cruel 
 wound ui)on the heart of your cousin by my defection. She is, 
 I am convinced, incapable of strong feeling ; she woidd have 
 been very well content to have become my wife, and will be 
 equally content that such an arrangement should be set aside. 
 And now pardon me, Lillias, if I speak of yet more worldly 
 affairs — alas ! their necessities have had too much to do with 
 my engagements with Genevieve. I must own, Lillias, that 
 heavy mortgages "on his estates in a great measure induced 
 my father's consent to those engagements, and that I, to my 
 shame, have indidged too freely in the extravagances and 
 indiscretions which were most ill suited to the circumstances of 
 my family ; but you, dear LDlias, shall correct these errors. We 
 will live on the Contnient to nurse the estates ; and to free 
 my father and myself from our present embarrassments, the 
 most generous of sisters has come to my aid. Emily, that 
 good and dear sister just now looks over my shoidder, and 
 forbids me to tell you all that she has done ; but I cannot be 
 vinjust cither to lier, Lillias, or to you; but she makes me 
 terrible threats, because I inform you that the large portion 
 of our aunt, Lady Camilla, -which was to have been Emily's, is 
 now to be mine, and that the dear old lady is willing to make 
 any iDresent sacrifice to rescue her hopefid nci:)hew fi'om an 
 alliance with the MOlmans. Ah, Lillias, I tell you tliis, 
 because you will know how to thank these dear ones. It is
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 133 
 
 youi* sweet voice, your gentle eyes, that must speak gratitude 
 for us both." 
 
 T]ie remaiuder of Lord Laugley's letter was filled with those 
 exiJressions of attachment which are uttered only by a lover, 
 and which are ridiculous save in the eyes of those who love. 
 Love is the most selfish of passions, and Lillias paused to road, 
 a^ain and again, those assurances, ere she perused the letter 
 of the generous Lady Emily. 
 
 " I shall not tease you with a long epistle, dearest Lillias," 
 it began, " for I fear that the folio of correspondence sent by 
 Horatio wiU but exhaust youj patience ; and yet I find, upon 
 questioning him, that he has forgotten to mention a sufficiently 
 important matter, which is, that you shoidd leave your uncle 
 and his family in theu* delusions with regard to Lord Langley, 
 till our arrival in town ; for the truth is, dear LiUias, that we 
 do not altogether know how papa is circumstanced with Sir 
 Gabriel about money matters, and Lady Camilla wiU supply 
 us with the means to settle all the odious business. Do 
 not be fantastically grateful, LiUias, either to my aunt or to 
 myself; we would do much more than sacrifice a little money 
 to save Horatio from the man-iage with Miss MiUman. And I, 
 LiUias, I own that I am shockingly spiteful, and finite enjoy 
 the coming mortification of those hatefid upstarts. Pardon 
 me for not always remembering that they are related to you ; 
 I doubt not they give you ample reason for wishing to be as 
 forgetful of the connexion as I am." 
 
 The letter of Lady EmUy closed with affectionate remem- 
 brances to AUce, and expressions of the most earnest friend- 
 ship for her sister. 
 
 Again and again did LiUias peruse these letters. She was 
 in a delirium of deUght. Oh, how trivial appeared aU her 
 past misfortimes in compare with her present divine prospect 
 of happiness ; what delicious tears of gratitude did she shed 
 over the letter of Lady Emily ; with -what impatient scorn 
 did she remember Gerald Tracy's severe coudenmation of Lord 
 Langley in his mysterious letter of the morning. 
 
 She was pacing the room, in her restless transports of hope, 
 when one of the servants brought in her supper. The man, 
 who was the same who had been witness of the morning's 
 scene with Master Augustus, lingered after he had set dov.n 
 the tray, and then said, with a diliident and respectful air — 
 
 " It is mortal duU here, miss, and the drawing-room is 
 always Ughted. whether the family is at home or not; per- 
 haps you may like to go and sit there a bit." 
 
 Lillias thanked tiie man for his good-natured suggestion, 
 and, rememberiaig that the conservatory opened from ths
 
 136 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 drawing-room, she determined to i^roceed there, for she was 
 in too great an excitement of spirits to think of retiring to rest. 
 Lillias had also a kind of passion for iiowers, and, finding 
 some emi)ty vases on the mantelpiece of the school-room, she 
 resolved to fill them. It seemed, too, at that moment, as 
 if she was in a manner oppressed with the excess of happi- 
 ness consequent on the perusal of the letters of Lady Emily 
 and her brother, and could breathe more freely in an atmo- 
 sphere laden with the perfume of the flowers, radiant as her 
 hopes. With a light step, then, LilUas proceeded to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 The doors of the conservatory were standing open; large 
 boxes of scarlet geraniiuns, and the delicate grey hehotrope, 
 were placed ahnost at its entrance ; and Lillias, as she 
 gatliered bundles of the flowers, was not for a few minutes 
 cognisant of a low murmur of voices at the remote end of the 
 conservatory, and, on hearing them, she advanced towards the 
 spot from ^^■hcnce they proceeded. The tall flowering shrubs 
 veiled her figure at the moment that slie recognised the form 
 of Genevieve JMillman, -^ho was weeping bitterly ; while the 
 countenance of a young man, who stood near her, and Mho 
 was unknown to Lillias, wore a look of fixed despair. 
 
 "Yes, it is true," at length exclaimed Genevieve; "I do 
 not love Lord Langley ; but do not you sui^pose that I shall 
 therefore disobey the will of my father, or again presume to 
 address such language to me as I have heard to-night." 
 
 " It was indeed a i^resumption, madam, for which I know 
 not how to exi^ress a sufficient penitence," said the young 
 man, with an ironical accent. " It would have become me, I 
 am aware, to remember tliat modern yoimg ladies can traffic 
 for titles no less than for gold, and that the coronet of a 
 countess might reconcile you to a person destitute of the 
 unquestionaljle attractions of Lord Langley. I ask your 
 pardon ten thousand times. I ought to be aware that I have 
 been self-deluded, and tliat a poor younger brother should be 
 quite content in seeing himself engaged as an instriunent in a 
 little sentimental comedy for tJie amusement of a young lady 
 who can purchase a title with her wealth." 
 
 Genevieve removed the handkerchief from her face, and 
 repUed, 
 
 " I have not deserved this, except for my weakness in 
 granting you tliis l)ittcr interview." 
 
 " Let it now end then, madam," answered the young man ; 
 " but sufl'er me to tliank you, in parting, for your free avowal 
 that, under the pretence of a base fear, you mean to accom- 
 plish tliose designs of your father which are doubtless also 
 your own."
 
 LILLIAS DAVENINT. 137 
 
 In speaking, tlic genlleman bowed to Genevieve, and then 
 turned with so liurried a step to quit the conservatory that 
 Lilhas ]iad scarce time to conceal hei'self among the shruhs, 
 confused at the chance of being detected as a listener to a 
 private conversation, and doubtful whether to discover herself, 
 and relieve, as she possibly might, the violent distress of 
 Genevieve.
 
 138 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Or Iiard unkindness' altered eye, 
 That mocked the tear it foi-ced to flow." 
 
 GfiAT. 
 
 A NIGHT of somewliat calmer reflection tliau any wHcli slie 
 liad been able to exercise on tbe receipt of Lord Langlej's 
 letter, determined Lillias not to extend any indiscreet confi- 
 dence towards her cousin, unless Genevieve herself should 
 com"t it, bj^ expressing aversion to her proposed marriage, 
 which she had not hesitated to own to a young man who 
 Lillias coidd not doubt was a clandestine and favoured lover. 
 Perhaps the vanity* of Lillias was somewhat wounded by her 
 cousin's indifference towards the man to whom she had yielded 
 her heart. Her high principle, too, was revolted by Gene- 
 vieve's confession that, influenced by an abject fear of her 
 father, she would wed Lord Langley without loving him. 
 
 Lillias watched somewhat anxiously for the visit of Gene- ■ 
 vieve to the school- room, but she did not make her a])pear- 
 ance ; and as the amiable Master Augustus and his sisters 
 were engaged to be present at a juvenile partj^ given by a 
 wealthy city' dame, an acquaintance of their mamma, to their 
 gi-eat joy, and little less to that of Lillias and Alice, school 
 liours were declared over after dinner. Lady Millman and 
 Genevieve were also to be present at the party. Sir Gabriel, 
 Lillias was told, had been compelled by business to go into 
 tlie country, so that her intention of speaking to him respecting 
 tlie removal of Alice from the house was again frustrated. Of 
 her release, for tliat afternoon, from the wearisome task of 
 teaching, she resolved to avail herself by paying a visit to Mrs. 
 Corbett, tliat old and affectionate servant, whom she famtly 
 remembered, and of whom she had so often heard her mother 
 speak. She also liad a letter ready wi'itten for Ti-acy, the 
 I)osting of which it was necessary to execute herself. So soon, 
 therefore, as the cliildren were taken from the school-room by 
 their nurses, she prepared for her little expedition, in company 
 with Alice, who was overjoyed at the prospect of escaping for 
 a few hours from the sort of imprisonment which she had for 
 three diiya endured in the house of her uncle. In the letter 
 from Mrs. Corbett, whick Lucy had taken to Sir Gabriel
 
 LILLIA8 DAVENANT. 139 
 
 Millman'g, was a small note from Eustace Vere, in which, 
 regi'ctting their abnij)t parting on the night of the sisters' 
 arrival in town, he expressed a hope that, should they visit 
 their friend, Mrs. Corbett, they woidd allow themselves to be 
 introduced to his mother, Avho, for the present, occupied 
 apartments in a house only opposite to that inhabited by the 
 Corbetts. 
 
 The sterling sense and gracefid manners of Eustace Vere, 
 exhibited even in the short period of their acquaintance, had 
 impressed Lillias with sentiments of a most sincere esteem, for 
 the heart of a woman occupied as hers was by the image of 
 Lord Langley, is capable of a disinterested friendship even for 
 a young and amiable man. 
 
 The long absence of Lillias from London wotdd have rendered 
 the search of herself and Alice for the residence of the Corbetts 
 somewhat techous, but that their walk was reheved by the sense 
 almost of enfranchisement, consec^uent even on this brief ab- 
 sence from the house of their uncle. Little Alice tripped 
 quickly by the side of her sister, infinitely chverted by the gor- 
 geous display of the London shops ; and Lillias herself, her 
 mind rcUeved from its earnest anxiety by the letters of Lord 
 Langlejs and his sister, entered the abode of her mother's old 
 servant ^vith a smiling coimtenance and a light heart. Mrs. 
 Corbett was engaged in i^reijariag tea, but she exhibited a great 
 deal of unnecessarj"- vexation at beiug, as she lihrased it, " taken 
 imawares bj- Miss Davenant :" "for these chilchen," she said, 
 "make the place in such a htter, and I woiUd have sent them 
 out of the waj", young laches, if I had known you were coming." 
 
 Lillias, who was concerned to find that the poor woman was 
 reall.y chsappointed at not having been previously- aware of her 
 visit, laughingly assured her that she woidd not make another 
 if she put herself at all out of the way, and would not give her 
 some tea quietly along with herself and the children. Mrs. 
 Corbett, upon this, sullered herself to be partlj- pacified ; but 
 while Lillias seated herself by the fire, and took the baby upon 
 her lap, tlie good woman sent httle Harriet off to the baker's to 
 procui-e some cakes ; to a large shop in Holborn for a pound of 
 ready-dressed ham : and while one of the j-ounger chilch'en picked 
 up the toys which were scattered on the floor, another was sent 
 out for water cresses, and new-laid eggs. On her ot^ti part, she 
 put away her common tea-things, produced her best china cuijs, 
 and her shining teapot of British plate, and brought forward 
 her carefuUy-stored and ft-agrant hyson. 
 
 _ " Indeed now, Mrs. Corbett," said LUlias, as, along with her 
 sister, she drew towards the well- spread table, "I am qiute 
 vexed to see you put yourself so much out of the way ; I see I 
 must be careful of my visits."
 
 140 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 
 
 " Do not say tliat, dear j'ouug lady," answered Mrs. Corbett, 
 " it T\ould be hard indeed if I coidd not make tilings a little 
 comfortable for the daughters of your dear manuua, who quite 
 set me up in housekeeping when I was first married. I hope, 
 too, you will stay and have a bit of supper with us ; Lucy and 
 my goodman wUl both be home by eight o'clock, and after tea 
 you must go with me over the way and see Mrs. Vere ; poor 
 lady, she is getting on but slowly ; Mr. Eustace was in great 
 trouble about her the night he came home, but the fever has 
 taken a turn, and the doctor says she will do now. A nice good 
 young man is Mr. A^ere ; do j^ou know him much, Miss ?" 
 
 " But very Uttle ; only indeed from travelling with him," an- 
 swered Lillias, happily unconscious of the penetrating look 
 which Mrs. Corbett had cast upon her, for the dame was a great 
 matclmiakcr for all young women, save and except her own 
 unfortunate daughter. The heart of Lillias, however, was 
 wholly defended by her attachment to Lord Langley ; and she 
 listened to Mrs. Corbett's eulogies of the person, manners, and 
 dis])osition of Eustace, and her assiu-ances that he greatly 
 M'ished to introduce her to his mother, with every inclination 
 to regard the yovmg man as a friend, but not at all as a lover. 
 
 Meantime the tea proceeded very men-ily : Uttle Alice, who 
 scarcely enjoyed her meals at her uncle's, exi)osed as she was 
 eveiy moment by the rude remarks of his children, had been 
 persuaded by Mrs. Corbett to take another little slice of ham ; 
 and Lillias quite, as she said, enjoyed the hot cakes, and the 
 really delicious cup of tea, -nhen the mirth of the party was 
 suddenly intemipted hy a pretty smart rap at the door, and the 
 landlady, Mrs. Haj^nes, without waiting for permission, abruptly 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Please Mrs. Corbett, there's Tom Horton below — wants to 
 speak to you," said the landlady, closely sciiitinizing Lillias 
 and lier sister as she .spoke, for she had dearly longed for a 
 good stare at the Misses Davenant, of whom her lodger had 
 talked so much. 
 
 "Don't you see that I am engaged, Mrs. Ilaynes?" answered 
 Mrs. Corbett, somewhat pettislily. 
 
 " Lord, sure you miglit sec the ])oor young fellow," persisted 
 the landlady; " he only came home yesterday, he says, and he's 
 got a lot of i^retty things for the children, and I am sure these 
 nice young ladies wont mind his coming up. And after he has 
 been such a long voyage, to have a friend's door shut in his 
 face, as a body may say !" 
 
 Here Lillias interposed, and begged of Mrs. Corbett not to 
 refrain from admitting any friend upon her account. A strange 
 sort of smile crossed the lip of Mrs. Corbett, however, and 
 Lillias even fancied that some motive far more important than
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 141 
 
 any connected witli licr presence influenced tlic change in Mrs. 
 Corbctt's determinations, as she told her hvndlady to send the 
 young man uj) ; and then going to a chest of drawers that stood 
 in the room, took out a little morocco case, which she laid upon 
 tlie mantelpiece. Mr. Tom Ilorton, \Aho, ou his arrival home, had 
 been promoted to the post of second mate on board a China 
 ship, was a fine iJersouable young feUow of about six-and- 
 twenty, with a bronzed complexion, an expressive dark grey 
 eye, and teeth which absolutely gbttered in contrast with his 
 darkened skin. Tom Horton was dressed with complete nauti- 
 cal foppery, in a suit of superfine blue cloth, the ends of his 
 black silk handkerchief, wliich was fastened in a sailor's knot, 
 dangling over a suow-wliite shirt. The children all cro^^xlecl 
 round him in an ecstasy of delight, for Tom Horton was their 
 old friend, and so many romps had he shared with them, and 
 so thoroughly good-natured was he, that he would have been 
 very welcome even A\ith(jut the large bag of real Cliina oranges 
 which he can'ied. Tom's heart was as true as gold, and he T\as 
 as sunple as he was honest ; but he was not accustomed to the 
 society of such young ladies as he perceived LUlias and her sister 
 to be, and he hesitated in some confusion, ere he took the chair 
 •which Mrs. Coi'bett offered. 
 
 "I did not know you had company," he said; "perhaps I had 
 better come in to-morrow." " Oh no, you must not go awaj^ 
 Tom," said Mrs. Corbett, shaking hands M-ith the young man 
 with so great a show of earnestness, that Lillias gave her credit 
 for very friendly feelings towards him. " These young laches are 
 the Miss Davenants, whose mamma you have heard me talk 
 about ; and I am sure they would be quite sorry if you go 
 away." 
 
 " That we should, indeed," said LiUias, who was prepossessed 
 by the frank and honest countenance of the young man. " I 
 am taking a friendly cup of tea with Mrs. Corbett, and I can- 
 not think of driving her other friends awa.A'." 
 
 Thus urged, Tom Horton sat do'ffii, and took the proffered 
 cup of tea; and LiUias, who perceived his sUght embarrassment, 
 possessed both the kindness and intelligence to relieve it, and 
 presently engaged the young sailor in a conversation respectuig 
 the various comitries which he had visited, wliich was very 
 agreeable to hhn, and higldy interesting to her, for Tom was a 
 clear-headed and careful observer, and his shrewd remarks 
 pleased Lillias no less than his graphic accounts of countries 
 and manners. The tea-things having been removed, Tom opened 
 his bag of oranges, of M'liich he ventured to offer a few to Lil- 
 lias and her sister : and Alice, who had become an excellent 
 friend -svith little Harriet, crept quite close to him, to see the 
 pretty array of ornameuts which he now drew from his pocket.
 
 142 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 There were coral necklaces for Hamet, and lier younger sister, 
 tlie baby ; tbe drollest carved and painted ■n'ooden figures of 
 Mandarins for Jobn andBOly ; and last, but not least, a beauti- 
 fully wi'ougbt ivoiy fan, wbich the young sailor drew forth with 
 a blu^h that tinged even his bronzed cheek, as he said it was 
 one of a few trifles which he had brought home for Lucy. 
 
 " Upon my word, Tom," cried Mrs. Corbett, throwuig herself 
 back in her chair, with a loud laugh, " you reaUy should not 
 have brought home anj-thiug for Lucy — that girl is quite spoiled 
 already by half the fine chaps at the West End danghng after 
 her ; and indeed," she added, in a lower and more confidential 
 tone, motioning for Horton to draw closer to her, while the chil- 
 dren were fully engaged with their tritdcets and toys, " indeed, 
 you need not help them, Tom. I don't mind Miss Davenant 
 here ; she is a sensible young lady, so I need not mind telhng 
 you before her. That Lucy has given a great deal of trouble to 
 me and her father lately — not as I mean there is any real harm 
 in the gii'l— God forbid ! when she is my own daughter ; but 
 you see she is flighty hlie, and I don't mind letting you knovr that, 
 Tom, who is such an old friend. Now, here you see, is one of 
 the i>resents those chaps I was telling you of persuaded her to 
 take ; certain, she wanted him to have it back again, and he 
 woiddn't, but then she should not have spoken to hini at all. 
 You know, that's what I and her father teU her, ' don't answer 
 the young chaps at all, Lucy, and then they cannot annoy you.' 
 As she spoke thus, Mrs. Corbett took the httle morocco case, 
 which shehad placed upon the mantelpiece, and opening it, 
 displayed a richly ^\Tought gold cha,in of considerable value. 
 
 The natural discernment of LiUias convinced her there was 
 something more in Mrs. Corbett's conduct than met the eye, 
 and her compassionate heart bled for poor Tom, as she noticed 
 the pale hp and trembhng voice with which he asked, " if that 
 chain were a present from one of her admirers to Lucy?" 
 
 " Oh yes !" answered Mrs. Corbett, " one of them flashy 
 West End chaps. You see her father and I were a little put 
 out about her, and so \\c watched her; and Corbett overheard 
 a young gentleman offer her how I don't know what fine 
 things ; but Lucy was not so far gone as to take them upon his 
 terms, and this cliain she wanted him to take back, but you see, 
 there was a sort of souffle, as I may say, bel^^een Corbett and 
 tiie puppy of a feUow, and Lucy couhl ]iot get rid of the chain. 
 Certainly she has been brought up too well to have agreed to 
 such wicked proposals : in course, if he would have manned 
 her, it would have been a diff'erent thing." 
 
 Tlie changes of poor Tom Horton's countenance, while Mrs. 
 Corbett made this speech, distressed Lilhae to observe ; and
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 143 
 
 ihougli she perceived only a great coarseness and indelicacy on 
 ]\Irs. Corbett's j^art, ■witliout supposing that slie entered into 
 such unbecoming details witli the most sinister and cruel of 
 motives, she yet Ijccame ai)prehensive that the yoiu:g sailor 
 felt something more than friendship for Lucy, and pitied 
 him for having, as it Beemed, so imworthily bestowed liis affec- 
 tions. 
 
 ;■ "And Lucy has really taken a present fi'om some fine gen- 
 tleman ?" said poor Tom, in a faltering accent. 
 
 " Well, indeed, it was only with the thought that he meant to 
 many her, Tom," answered Mrs. Corbett ; " and j'ou know it 
 is a gild's duty to do the best she can for herself in the way of 
 man'iage ; and really I have only told you about the matter, 
 because I am your real friend, Tom, and don't hke to see folks 
 deceived." 
 
 Tom knit his brows at this speech, and after casting down his 
 eyes as if m thought for some miutites, he somewhat abruptly 
 asked whether Lucy was expected home that evening P 
 
 " Oh yes, she ■nill be in by and by," rephcd Mrs. Cor- 
 bett; "and perhaps, Tom, till she does come, you will amuse 
 yourself with the childi^en, as Miss Davenant is going Avith 
 me to see om' neighbour over the way, Mrs. Vere, who is 
 very iU." 
 
 "I thank you, Mrs. Corbett," said the young man, rising; 
 "but you must know veiy well that I would like to talk 
 seriously to Lucy. I am second mate now, and much better off 
 than before this last voyage ; and I had hoped that you woidd 
 not now object to me ; and with regard to Lucy, I shoidd like 
 to hear from her own lips if she has changed her mind." 
 
 " Oh, you may take my word for that, Tom," said Mrs. Cor- 
 bett ; "but you are welcome to stay, and see Lucy to-night, if 
 you doubt it." 
 
 "I do not doubt your word, Mrs. Corbett," repHed the 
 sailor. " You would not offer for me to see Lucy if you were 
 not telling the trath ; but it is not with all the cliildren about 
 us that I can talk to her ; so, if jou please, I will be here to- 
 moiTow morning, and walk with her to the shop." 
 
 "Just as you like, Tom," said Mrs. Corbett, affecting to be 
 busy in imtting away the tea-things, that she might avoid look- 
 ing at the poor fellow, who she well knew she was treating so 
 ill, while she inwardly congratulated herself on Lucy's foUy in 
 the ffb-tation with Frederick MiUman, which she would not be 
 able to deny, and which she did not doubt, with, the inter- 
 pretation she had put upon it, would effcctuaUj- put an end to 
 the love affair between her daughter and honest Tom. "WTien 
 the children found that Ilorton was going, they immediately
 
 14i LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 crowded roimd, entreating him to stay ; but Tom liad received 
 a deeper woxmd from tlie tongue of Mrs. Corbett than he cared 
 to show, and he hastily made his adieux. 
 
 No sooner had Tom departed than Mrs. Corbett huiTied 
 Lilhas over the ■way ; perhaps she was not unaware that the 
 scene with Toni Horton miglit have impressed the young lady 
 rather unfavourably, cither Avith regard to her daughter or 
 herself. 
 
 The door of the opposite house was opened by the landlady, 
 ]\Irs. Jenkuis, who detained Lillias and her companion in the 
 parlour, ^hile she launched into the praises of Eustace, who, 
 not having demurred at the extortionate bill she had handed to 
 liiin, was very high in her good graces, and received full credit 
 for all his really unwearied attentions to his mother. 
 
 ]\Irs. Vere, being somewhat better, had left her bed for the 
 first time since her illness, and -nas supported with pillows in 
 an easy chair. 
 
 Neither tune nor sickness had injured the faultless outhne of 
 her features, while the touch of both endued "ndth a melancholy 
 s^^'eetness the smile which crossed them, as she held out her 
 thin Avhite hand to welcome Ldlias. 
 
 Eustace was sitting by the fire, and reading to his mother, 
 when Lillias entered, but immediately rose, with a glow of 
 unwonted pleasure siiffusing his dark and usually severe fea- 
 tures. 
 
 "This is indeed kind, Miss Davenant," he said, earnestly 
 taking her hand in both of his ; " but I hope, before long, to 
 sec you visit my mother in an abode where she will be able to 
 receive you more to her own satisfaction." 
 
 " That is not a fair remark, Mr. A^ere," replied LiUias. " I 
 care little for the style of an abode in which I may find a 
 friend." 
 
 " I bebeve so, my sweet girl," said Mrs. Vere ; " you would 
 not otherwise be like the daughter of Ahce Millman." 
 
 " Did you know my mother, then, madam?" said Lillias. 
 
 " Before her marriage," answered Mrs. Vere ; " and it was 
 llirough no fault in either of us that the acquaintance was 
 broken off; l)ut a long and painful story was coimected with 
 that friendslii]), -\\hich, perliaps, at some future tune, my dear, 
 J may lind it needful to tell you: and needlessly I would not 
 iufbi't on you so distressing a narrative." 
 
 "I beg" you will not, indeed, dearest mother," said Eustace. 
 " I am sure that mournful remembrances are iU suited both to 
 Miss Davenant and yourself: the place of your present abode 
 is clisinal euougli : we need not have any such stories to give us 
 the lion-oi-s outright." 
 
 " At least, Mr. Vere, it seems that you do your best to aUe-
 
 LILLIAS DAVEISrANT. 145 
 
 viate tlie dreariness of these apartments, and give us a few 
 pleasant tliouglits of tlie country in tlie winter time 9f melan- 
 choly London," said Lillias, pointing to the little china vases, 
 full of wallflowers and violets, ^\-hich stood upon the mantel- 
 piece, and the table by which Mrs. A^ere sat. 
 
 "Indeed, Miss Davenant," said Mrs. Vera, smUing, "i 
 scolded Eustace this morning, for the very purchase of these 
 flowers, for the weather is very cold, and I know he spent 
 more money on thcni than any fancy of mine ought to cost ; 
 but he tries as hard to spod me as if I were still rich, and 
 eoidd afford it, while he denies everything to himself." Eustace, 
 laughing, disclaimed the charge ; biit the eloquent look with 
 which Lillias expressed her opinion of his filial attention, would 
 have rewarded him for a much greater sacrifice than any he 
 liad made to keep his mother's bed-room stocked with flowers. 
 The gentle and refined manners of Mrs. Vere greatly charmed 
 Lillias ; and she was promising her a frequent visit at the 
 cottage which Eustace had hired at Hampstead, when the 
 landlady entered witli the impleasant news that Mrs. Corbett 
 AA'as wanted at home, as her daughter had just returned very 
 ni ; and Lucy was indeed fallen into fita.
 
 14-6 LILLIAS DAVENAJSTT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 " The world itself is changed, and all 
 That was beloved before 
 Is vanished, and beyond recall. 
 
 For I can hope no more ; 
 The scar of fire, or dint of steel. 
 Are easier than such wounds to heal." 
 
 L. E.L. 
 
 A PITIABLE scene awaited Lillias on her return with Mrs. Cor- 
 bett to the lodgings of the hxtter : Lucy was struggHng in the 
 paroxysms of a fit, which made necessary the united exertions 
 of Mrs. Hayues and her husband to hold her. 
 
 The kind-hearted landlady had already dispatched the little 
 servant girl whom she kept, to the nearest mechcal man, and in 
 a bitter accent she said to Mrs. Corbett, " So I hope you are 
 satisfied now, ma'am ; the poor girl let shp before she went off 
 into this here fit, that she met Tom Horton at the end of the 
 street." 
 
 Tliis speech alone would have enlightened Lillias, in some 
 degree, as to the unfeeling conduct of Lucy's mother ; but Mrs. 
 Corl^ett was one of those peoi^le who, shoidd they once do wrong, 
 will always stick to it that they were right ; and she answered 
 sharply, " This is not fair in you, Mrs. Haynes, to be ripping 
 up such nonsense when you see how ill the poor girl is ; Tom 
 Ilorton, indeed ! it's more likely she has been worrying herself 
 al^out the young chap her father had the row with the other 
 night." 
 
 '* Ugh!" cried the landlady, looking daggers and poison at her 
 lodger, against whom she \^■ould have launched out very bitterly, 
 had not the increasing violence of j)Oor Lucy's fit demanded 
 her attention. In the midst of this scene of domestic distress, 
 Corbett himself entered, and LiUias observed that he drew 
 liis wife aside, and said something in a low tone, in which, 
 however, she detected the name of Tom Horton. The strong 
 I'cmedies employed by the medical man, on his arrival, had the 
 eili'ct of recovering Lucy from the fit ; but she was quite deH- 
 i-ious find talked wildly, as her mother, Mrs. Haynes, and Lillias 
 undressed her, and placed licr in her bed. The landlady good- 
 naturedly proflcred to sit up with Mrs. Corbett ; and LiUias, not 
 hu\iug it in her poMcr to render any further service to the
 
 1ILLIA3 DAVENANT. 147 
 
 afflicted family, prepared to witlidraw. Corbett himself offered 
 to Avalk to Portman-square -witli the sisters ; btit Lillias, fiuding 
 that it was near eleven o'clocli, ])referred sending for a cab. As 
 bIic did not contemplate being able to escape from the thraldom 
 of her duties as governess on the following day, she made tlio 
 mechanic promise to send her a note, or a message, relative to 
 the condition of his daughter. As for Mrs. Corbett, she wept 
 violently when Lillias took her leave, for the condition of poor 
 Lucy had been pronounced critical ; and fain would her now self- 
 accusing mother have recalled the hints of her daughter's incon- 
 stancy, which she had so cruelly given to Tom Horton ; foir 
 from "the information given by her landlady, that Lucy had en- 
 countered the young sailor on her way home, Mrs. Corbett 
 would not doidj't that the interview with him had been the caiLse 
 of this sudden attack ; for, indeed, she was conscious that Lucy 
 had been ailing for some time past. 
 
 Before Lillias bade adieu to her humble, and now suffering- 
 friends, she had kindly ofiered to assist the landlady in putting 
 the younger children to bed, for the high delirium of Lucy 
 made it necessary for both her father and mother to remain with 
 her ; and diiring'the operation of undressing the children, many 
 nods, winks, andmuendos did the good woman mdulge in, rela- 
 tive to the cause of the yoimg milliner's illness. Poor littlo 
 Harriet, who was tenderly attaclied to her sister, cried bitterly 
 about her illness, and muttered between her sobs, " I know 
 what makes Lvicy ill— I know." 
 
 "Ah, poor child," responded the landlady, "no doubt you 
 knows, and so does I ; oh, for my part, I hates selfish people, 
 that I does ; but there's one thing as pleases me always, I never 
 seed a selfish person yet who did not meet as good as they sent ; 
 I knowd a judgment would come on certaia parties, and now 
 I sees it ; I knowd I shovdd." 
 
 "It's all mother's faidtthat Lucy is ill," cried little Harri<?t ; 
 " and mother is very cruel, that she is, and very wicked to Tom 
 Horton and Lucy." 
 
 " Hush, my dear," said Mrs. Hajmcs, " you must not Snd 
 faidt with your mother ;" then, as she di'ew the curtauis round 
 the little girl's bed, she muttered, " I don't wonder at a word 
 you says though ; little pitchers has wide ears, and chUch-en has 
 eyes, arid the way as that poor girl has been treated has beett 
 enough to make a stone speak, that it has." 
 
 To these remarks, though they certainly did not elevate tho 
 position of the Corbetts in her good opinion, Lillias felt herself fair 
 too ignorant of their aibiirs to offer any reply : but Mrs. Haynes 
 was determined, according to her iisual boast, that slie woidd, as 
 slxe phrased it, " speak her mind ;" and, therefore, as she lighted 
 the sisters to the street door, where the cab which her huskmd 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 had fetclied was VA-ailing for them, she said, " I hope, Miss Dave- 
 naut, that yoii w ou' t go av-ay with any bad thoughts about poor 
 Lucy being a flirt, aud all that, as her mother is always a-saying : 
 I assure you, miss, that she is as true-hearted a girl as ever lived, 
 for all that nonsense about the gold chain Mrs. Corbett makes 
 Buch a parade of to everybody. The truth is, I see through it 
 all ; them Corbetts, both father and mother, want to keep the 
 girl as an old maid, that they may always have the money she 
 gets ; but I have my opinions about that matter too ; I believe 
 they reckon without their host in that business ; but we shall 
 see, we shall see ; them as hves longest sees the most, you know, 
 miss." 
 
 " Surely," said LUlias, who was very much shocked at the 
 inferences drawn by the landlady, " surely no parent, no mother 
 at least, coidd play so wicked a part towards her own child." 
 
 "Ah, miss, you have not hved long enoiigh in the world to 
 know what it is made of altogether," answered Mrs. Haynes. 
 " All your exiierience is to come, but I can tell you there's 
 plenty of mothers who woidd nail their older chUcben down to 
 poverty all their lives, to make them keep the yoimger ones ; 
 and plenty of chUch-en, too, as would leave their parents to go to 
 the workhoiLse in their old age, so as they could carry out thek' 
 own fancies about their fellows or the girls : though I must say, 
 in the general way of that business, theyoungmen are a deal worse 
 nor the young women. I never knew a yoimg man as woidd 
 have put up with being worked and browbeat by his family as 
 Lucy Corbett is, and I dare say you never wiU, miss, when you 
 comes to get your experience ; you must live and learn, like other 
 people ; and you'U fmd the young men of all sorts, gentle and 
 simple, uncommon selfish. Mr. Vere, over the way now, is one 
 of a thousand ; but, as I said before, you must hve and learn, 
 miss." 
 
 LUhas sighed, and answered with a mournfid smile, "The 
 lesson of life, though, does not seem a very pleasant one, and I 
 must hope that you misjudge Mrs. Corbett." 
 
 "!Not a bit of it, miss ; not a bit of it," cried the landlady, 
 putting her head into the cab just as it was about to drive off, 
 in order to give a last expression of her not altogether unjust 
 spleen against her lodger. 
 
 Lilhas, as the vehicle rolled rapidly along, fell into a not very 
 pleasing reverie, ■which was broken hj the voice of little Alice 
 exclaiming, " Do you know, LUlias, I think all the landlady says 
 about Mrs. Corbtstt is true ; and I'm sure I shoidcl not like to be 
 Harriet, for she told me that her mother takes alinost all Lucy's 
 money ; and that on her own birth-day, last week, her aunt 
 gave her ten shillings for a new frock, her mother took it away 
 to buy a hood and cloak for the baby. I am sure I should
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 149 
 
 not like to have my pocket-money taken away in such, a man- 
 ner, or to nm-se that great fat baby all day along, as Han'iet 
 says she does." 
 
 LiUias could not bring herself to condemn her sister's natural 
 sense of the injustice of Mrs. Corbett towards her two eldest 
 daughters ; but she was not pleased that Alice should so young 
 become so closely acquainted with the selfishness and frailty of 
 human nature ; she therefore turned the conversation to the 
 more satisfactory topic of her visit to Mrs. Vere, to see whom 
 she promised that she woidd take Ahce on the first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 On their arrival in Portman-square, LiUias, who was wearied 
 with the iJaiuful scene she had witnessed at Mrs. Corbett's, 
 accomi)anied Alice to her bedroom, and was about to retire to 
 rest ; not having yet locked her door, when it was nidely burst 
 open, and Lady MUlman's waiting-maid flounced into the room. 
 
 " Oh, if you please, miss," she said, with an insolent air, " my 
 lady wants to see you in the drawing-room before you go to 
 bed ; my lady and the children were home by ten o'clock, miss, 
 and now it's past eleven ; and you are to go down to my lady 
 directly. Your goings on wUl not be put up with, I can tell 
 you ; a nice time of night this is to come home, certainly ; 
 what do you suppose would be said to any other servant as 
 played sucli a trick, especially after going out without leave ? 
 13ut, however, you had better go down to my lady, at once, I 
 can teU you." 
 
 " I certainly shall go clown to Lady MUhnan at once," an- 
 swered Lilhas, " if it be only to inquire whether she has au- 
 thorized one of her servants so grossly to insult the niece of 
 her husband ; and be assured, young woman, that either you 
 or I quit this house before to-mon-ow night." 
 
 " Oh, just as you i)lease, miss," rephed the woman, with an 
 insolent laugh ; " I know who it will be to leave the house, 
 though ; and as I consider a governess quite as much of a 
 servant as 1 am, I don't see why you should give yourself siu'h 
 airs ; however, I shall see your pride brought down before 
 you do leave the house, I'U warrant me." 
 
 "With those words the waiting-maid left the room, slamming 
 the door violently after her. 
 
 " Oh, dear Ldlias," then said little Alice, with tears in her 
 eyes, " do let us get away fi'om this dreadfid house, and don't 
 go down to Lady MUhnan ; that woman would not have been 
 so impudent, if she wasn't set on by her lady, as she calls her ; 
 I am sure there isn't a lady in the house, but you Lilhas, 
 darling." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear," replied LUlias, " I must go down, and
 
 150 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 do not ft\ar my stajdnp; in tlie house ; for I sec myself tliat it 
 ^^ill be out of the question." 
 
 This assurance in some measure pacified Alice, who con- 
 sented to ujidi-ess herself, and get to bed, whde LiUias -went 
 domi stairs. 
 
 On euterinc: the drawing-room, Lillias foimd there assem- 
 bled Lady Millman, Genevieve, Sir Harry Vere, and the gen- 
 tleman with whom she had seen her cousin conversing hi the 
 consei'vatory. On the present occasion, however, this gentle- 
 man w^as seated on a sofa by Lady Mdhnan, and Genevieve was 
 turning over some portfolios of engravings with Sir IlaiTy. 
 
 *' So, Miss Davenant, this is very fine behaviour, indeed," 
 «ried Lady Milhnan in a shrill voice, and with the naturally 
 florid tint of her sldn deepening to an absolute scarlet. " Very 
 pretty behaviour, indeed, to march out of the house along 
 with your sister, and not even ask my permission." 
 
 " I chd not suppose, madam," rephed Lillias, "that M'hen I 
 entered your house I was to render you an account for every 
 moment of my time, like the lowest menial you employ ; and 
 since I was informed that your children would not require my 
 instruction this afternoon, I conceived myself at hberty to 
 visit an old and faithful servant of my mother." 
 
 "A nice person to visit, indeed," said LadyMdhuan; " a 
 servant forsooth ; a nice acquaintance for such an accomplished 
 young lady, to be sure ; reaUy, miss, I should have thought 
 that all your fine learning might have taught you better. 
 However, I don't choose that my chddren's governess should 
 ■visit other people's servants ; and I also think it's not too much 
 to inqidre, why a young lady stops out tdl near twelve o'clock 
 at night." 
 
 " Mrs. Corbett is not now a servant, madam," answered 
 LiUias, -n-ith a coolness of tone that infinitely provoked her 
 aunt ; adthng, " I should have been home early in the evening, 
 liad I Jiot stidd to assist the poor woman in the serious and 
 sudden dlness of her daughter ; and also, madam, it is just 
 eleven o'clock, and not twelve ; nor have I w^alked through the 
 streets of London ; I sent for a cab, and my sister has been 
 with me the wliole evening." 
 
 "Ah, that is all miglity fine, Miss Davenant," cried Lady 
 Millman, " but this sort of treatment does not suit me at aU." 
 
 " Neitlier does the treatment I experience in your house 
 suit me, madam," replied Lillias ; " and I must beg that you 
 will i:)rovide yoiirself Avith anotlier governess, for I cannot 
 endure the insolence either of your waiting-maid or your 
 chiklren." 
 
 " Oh, do not give us those airs, miss," said Lady MiUman ;
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 151 
 
 " you know you can't go, circumstanced as you are witli your 
 undo ; so just sit down now, and behave like a reasonable 
 being ; the Honourable Mr. Langley will like some music, I 
 dare say." 
 
 During this scene, sufficiently painful, of course, to the spec- 
 tators. Sir Hany and Genevieve had pretended to be deeply en- 
 gaged with tlie engravings, AA'hile Edward Langley, the most 
 sensitive of human beings, had changed colour as rai^idly as 
 Lillias herself : once he liad offered her a chair, which she de- 
 clined by waving her hand, and then he turned aside, and 
 affected, hke Sir Harry, to be occupied with a book. 
 
 The mention of Mr. Langley's name, however, affected Lillias 
 more deeply than any of her aunt's insults ; or rather the pang 
 was in being so insulted in the presence of Mr. Langley's 
 brother ; and her A^oice faltered for the first time, as she said, 
 "Excuse me, madam, I can neither play nor sing to-night. I 
 am not well." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense; a parcel of fine airs," said Lady Millmau. 
 " I have been telling Mr. Langley how well you sing, and he 
 wishes to hear you." 
 
 " Pardon me, Lady Milhnan," exclaimed Edward, laying 
 down his book ; " the young lady does not seem well ; do not, I 
 beseech you, detain her on my account." 
 
 " Well, then, j^ou may go, miss," said Lady Millman ; " but, 
 reall.y, I must teU you, yoiu' behaviour is not suited to the state 
 of your purse." 
 
 Lillias hurried from the room with this last taunt j-et 
 ringing in her ears. She had observed, that throughout the 
 scene Genevieve had not once looked up or interposed ; bixt 
 she expected, from what she already knew of her gentleness 
 and humanity, that she would have followed her from the 
 dra\\'ing-room. When, therefore, she felt a hand lightly touch 
 her shoulder, as she had her foot on the staircase that led to 
 her chamljer, she looked hastily round, expecting to see her 
 cousin. She did not, however, behold Genevieve, but Sir 
 Harr}^ Vere, who, takmg her hand with a kind of gentle 
 violence, drew her into a sort of boudoir, the door of which 
 was partly open. 
 
 "Miss Davenant," said the baronet, " you have not felt the 
 insults of that coarse woman more severely on your own 
 account than I have felt them for you. I love you, sweet, 
 interesting Lillias, short as our acquaintance has been. I love 
 you; and though my fortune is not, indeed, what it once was, 
 the residue is still -^^orthy of being laid at your feet." 
 
 There was a freedom in the baronet's looks, even more than 
 in his words, which rendered the meaning of this abrupt 
 declaration rather doubtful ; but when Lillias gently declined
 
 152 IILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 it, liG firmly seized her hand and pressed his suit, in terms 
 Vihich she coiild not misunderstand. 
 
 '* Wretch ! " exclaimed the indignant Ldlias, " do yon believe 
 that my nncle, even base as he is, will suffer to pass un- 
 punished tliis insidt to his niece ? " 
 
 " Indeed, sweetest Lillias," rephed Sir Harry, " I am satisfied 
 that he will not notice it ; and j'et more, that the sufferings 
 preparing for you in his house wiU probably induce you, at 
 some future time, to accept that love, the avowal of which has 
 so much roused your anger. As a proof of this belief, I 
 release you, confident of better fortime in that time to come." 
 
 With these words Sir Harrj^ withch'ew, and Lillias, weeping 
 bitterly, sought her chamber.
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 " Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 Cold, fearful di-ops stand on my trembling flesh : 
 What do I fear?" 
 
 liicliard the Third. 
 
 The visit of Edward Langley to tlie house of Sir Gabriel 
 MUlman, on the evening of Lillias's visit to the Corbetts, was 
 to announce the arrival in town of his mother and Lady 
 Emilj-. Lord Langley, it seemed, was not expected till the 
 following day, nor had Genevieve received any message or 
 letter from bim for some weeks past ; but she was tco well 
 accustomed to the exliilntion of indifference on the part of her 
 proposed husband, and too indiSerent towards him herself, to 
 feel in any way wounded by his neglect. The cUspatch of the 
 aifatrs wmch had called Sir Gabriel out of to^vn, had been so 
 speedily accomplished, that he arrived in town about nine 
 o'clock in the evening, and there found Edward Langlej", who 
 had just called with the news of the anival of his mother and 
 sister, and the promised appearance of his brother. The 
 young man •« as most cordially received by the baronet, who 
 immediately cUspatched a messenger to the house in which his 
 wife and daughter were visiting, with a summons for their 
 return. This step was very unnecessary, and not verj^ pohte, 
 but Sir Gabriel could not resist the glory of remincling a knot 
 of his city acciuaintances of the approaching marriage of his 
 daughter M-ith a yoimg nobleman. He also persuaded Edward 
 Langley to remain and see Genevieve and Lady MUlman — ^^a 
 proposal to which the young man very readily acceded, for his 
 object was to show the citizen's daughter with what cool 
 contemiDt he regarded her, since her avowal that she woidd wed 
 his brother, after something more than an admission of an 
 attachment to himself. A few minutes before the return of 
 Lady Millman and his step-daughter, Sir Harry Verc made bis 
 appearance, and Sir Gabriel, in high good humour, was solacing 
 himself with a glass of fine old port — a wine for which he pre- 
 served an old city attachment — when, alas ! as if to force a 
 point of moral philosophy on so excellent a man, and convince 
 him that no enjojTnent in this world is without its alloy, one 
 of his servants entered with a letter, just delivered by the
 
 154 LILLTAS DAVENANT. 
 
 clci'k of Mr. Nicholas, in wliich that worthy limb of the law 
 informed him, that, so soon as he amved in to^Ti, supposing 
 he should retui'n that night, it would behove his most serious 
 interests immediately to visit him, Mr. Nicholas, at his domicile 
 in Hatton-garden. Sir Gabriel gnashed his teeth on the 
 perusal of this missive, and uttered an exclamation not alto- 
 gether calculated for polite ears, but the worthy citizen had 
 not all the command of himself necessary to a philosopher. 
 Edward Langley regarded him A^th an expression of some 
 surprise, and Sir Harry, who cpiite enjoyed any annoyance to 
 the man who had become the possessor of so large a share of 
 his paternal fortune, laughed outright, and exclaimed, "'V\Tiat 
 ails thee, worthy friend ? what demon disturbs the rei)Ose of 
 hini who sets the sovereign fiend — the fiend of povertj-, at 
 defiance? " 
 
 " A foolish matter, Sir Harry," said the citizen, " concerning 
 a Uttle law business, vexatious enough, though the concern is 
 but a small one, for it will require me to give up the pleasant 
 evening which I had expected in your company, gentlemen, 
 for I must go out ; but I trust that you will entertain each 
 other till Lady MiLlman rcttu-ns." 
 
 On descending to the haU of his mansion. Sir Gabriel found 
 that the amiable Mr. Stubbs had waited in an ante-room to see 
 him. The pohcy of Mr. Stubbs M-as to affect an extreme 
 subserviency to his master's wealthy cUcnt ; but if Sir Gabriel 
 faded to purcliase this civility, in which, indeed, he did not 
 often fail, for he grasped at money in quantities too large to find 
 it worth his while to be mean upon trifles— if, then. Sir Gabriel 
 failed to remember that the day was too hot, or too cold, or 
 too wet, and slip a sovereign into the hand of Mr. Stubbs to 
 l)ay for a cab, or compensate him for a journey, or any other 
 extra trouble, then ^vould the malicious clerk mix the oil of his 
 ci\'ility with an undue portion of vinegar. On the i)resent 
 occasion Sir Gabriel was in a very iU temper, and, rudely 
 staring at the clerk, said, in a rough tone, " Well, sir, what are 
 you Malting for ? Did not the servant tell j^ou that I was at 
 home ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Mr. Stubbs, "but I waited, sir, just to 
 know if you would call on Mr. Nicholas to-night?" 
 
 " Did he order you to go back, then?" inquired Sir Gabriel. 
 
 " In case you were not at home, sir," said the clerk in a 
 still more humble tone than he had iised before. 
 
 "Then you need not have troubled yourself to loiter here 
 when you heard I was at home," returned Sir Gabriel ; " but 
 I suppose you lead rather too easy a life with my friend 
 Nicholas ; lie does not give you enough work to do, my man,
 
 IILLIAS DAYENANT. 155 
 
 or you would not waste anj' of the tunc for getting home, 
 to be quiet." 
 
 "Just so, Sir Gabriel," said Mr. Stubbs ; "Mr. Nicholas 
 is very kind and considerate, and I am sure I often think I 
 have much to be thankfid for, seemg, as I do, that the fii'st 
 gentlemen have their troubles ; like you, for instance, sir : to 
 think of such a gentleman being put out of his way because 
 some tiresome woman calls on his lawj'er." 
 
 Sir Gabriel started as if he had been stung by an adder, 
 and turning his dai'k countenance and quivering lip upon the 
 clerk, he sternly demanded, 
 
 " Who, what are you speaking of, man ?" 
 
 Mr. Stubbs recoiled in his turn, so fierce and threatening 
 were the looks and accents of Sir Gabriel ; then creeping 
 closer to the baronet, he said, "Be not offended, sir; 
 but ray master bade me be sure not to tell you that it was 
 a female who called on liim to-day ; but I, sir, wUl ;" and here 
 Mr. Stubbs ventured on a sort of smile, which -vAould 
 have very well graced the face of a hytena, as he added, 
 " Well, sir, the truth is, I have been a great many years with 
 Mr. Nicholas, and I know the nature of the little surprises 
 he prepares for his chents ; and I have sometimes found I 
 was iisefid to them in giving them a note of warning before- 
 hand. Excuse the hberty I take in saying this, sir ; of course 
 I do not know anything of this strange woman's business." 
 
 The stohd look with which Mr. Stubbs made this last ob- 
 serv^ation had the effect of almost convincing Sir Gabriel that 
 he spoke the truth, in saying that he knew not the business of 
 his master's visitant, whom Sir Gabriel buttoostronglysusijeeted 
 was no other than the mnch-dreaded Marion Gray. The ap-' 
 parent ignorance of Mr. Stubbs on this point, together ^^ ith 
 his evident disposition to play, if the baronet so willed it, the 
 part of a spy upon his master, fully ans\^'ered the inu-pose 
 which the clerk had in view, for Sir Gabriel at once slipped 
 a couple of sovereigns into liis hand, and with a significance 
 of tone and manner which Stubbs well imderstood, bade him 
 come up to his house after business hoiu-s on tlie foUowing 
 evening. 
 
 " Possibly," he said, " this woman of -nhora you speak may 
 visit Mr. Nicholas again, and though he is my very good 
 friend, and, I doubt not, does all in his power to serve me, 
 yet of course there is a great weight of business on his mind ; 
 so that if you, Mr. Stubbs, woidcl find a little spare time 
 to give me particulars about this woman, shoidd slie again 
 make her appearance, I should not, of course, expect you to 
 expend your hours of recreation on my business ^^ithout a 
 proper remuneration,"
 
 156 LILIilAS DATENANT. 
 
 Mr. Stiibbs was of course tlie most humble and obedient 
 servant of the baronet, whose dwelhng he left in high good 
 humour. 
 
 Upon this, as on his late interview with that gentleman, Sir 
 Gabriel hired a cab to convey him to the chambers of Mr, 
 Nicholas, instead of proceeding thither in his carriage. It 
 was with a nervoiis fear, an absolute horror, that he now met 
 the lawyer ; but their interview proved much less stormy than 
 he had anticipated, though it was with bitter anguish of heart 
 he discovered that it was indeed Marion Gray who had visited 
 the lawyer, and that, with a refinement of vengeance, she had 
 placed his character whoUy in the power of Nicholas, who, he 
 well knew, would use a knowledge of certain transactions as a 
 means of di])ping even more deeply than was his wont iato his. 
 Sir Gabriel's pui'se. The law;\-er did not employ much cir- 
 cumlocution ; he fairly informed his client that his silence was 
 onlj^ to be bought, and that Marion Grey had consigned her 
 revenge to his keeping ; but to soothe the iri'itation of the 
 baronet's feehngs, he expatiated ujjon his hoi)es of being able 
 utterly to crush Eustace Vere : so Su' Gabriel was fain to 
 console hunself with this hope, and to give the legal harpy, 
 who procured that banquet of revenge, a cheque for five hun- 
 dred pounds ; not for his ser\'ices T^dth regard to Eustace A^ere, 
 but for his sdence respecting Marion Grey. Sir Gabriel's terror 
 of Nicholas had for once overcome the pain with which he parted 
 with his money : besides, he remembered his late compact with 
 Mr. Stubbs, and flattered himself that he might make him useful 
 in purloining from the lawyer certain dangerous documents 
 which Marion Gray had placed in his possession. Thus, it was 
 with a somewhat lightened heart that Sii" Gabriel quitted the 
 chambers of Mr. Nicholas ; for the impending danger having as- 
 sumed a definite form, he flattered himself that he could grapple 
 with and overcome it. 
 
 On entering the house of the lawyer, he had ordered the man 
 who had brought him there to wait ; and the night being ex- 
 ceediiigly dark, and he totally without apprehension of danger, 
 he did not perceive that the man who opened the door of the 
 attendant vehicle was not the same who had driven him to 
 Hatton-garden. Scarcely, however, had Sir Gabriel placed his 
 foot upon tlie step, t]>an the strong hand of some one within 
 the carriage pulled liim forwards, the door was clapped to, a 
 mufller was thrown over liis head, and the vehicle drove off 
 with great rapidity. 
 
 Sir Gabriel, like all unscni])idoi:s persons, was at times tor- 
 mented -nith strong fears for his owti safety ; and the fashion 
 in which he had been di-aggcd into the cab, im])ressed him 
 with the notion that ho had fallen into the hands of some veiy
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 157 
 
 Tiiitlictive enemy indeed ; consequently, it was with a somewliat 
 trembling- voice that he demanded the purport of the outrage. 
 The faltering accent of the baronet seemed rather to amuse 
 the person whom he addressed, as a scornfid laugh was the 
 response ; then a harsh strong voice replied, " Be not under 
 any /ear, Sir Gabriel ; there is no intention in the parties by 
 whom I am employed, either to rob or murder you ; it is only 
 that your amiable society is wished for by an old accxuaintance, 
 and he wdl not detain you long, though a httle conversation 
 ■R-itli you is absolutely necpssary to him after a long absence 
 from England." 
 
 " But 1 will not bear withtliis," said the baronet, his courage 
 reviving under the assurance that no bodil.y evil was intended to 
 him ; " and I will summons the scoundrel who di-ives us before 
 a magistrate in the morning." 
 
 "ludeed, Sh Gabriel, you will do nothing of the kind," 
 said the stranger, arresting the citizen's hand, as he was about 
 to lower the window of the cab ; while, at the same time, Sir Ga- 
 briel felt something hard and cold pressed against his forehead, 
 while his comijanion contmued in a sterner tone, " Have a care 
 what you do ; no harm, as I have said, is intended you ; but, 
 at the same time, the i)ersons by whom I am authorized are 
 too well acquainted with the world in general, and with your 
 character in ijarticiilar, to place either their agents or them- 
 selves in your power. You will imderstand, therefore. Sir 
 Gabriel, that upon your sUghtest attempt to give an alann, I 
 will blow out your brains with the pistol you now feel against 
 your forehead, with no more compujiction than I shoidd ieel in 
 shooting a mad dog ; and this I shall do without any terror 
 as to the noise made by the report of the pistol, as I am pre- 
 pared for any risk to myself, so that, dead or ahve, I take you 
 before those who desu'e to see you tliis night, though I avow 
 ntiy preference for the latter alternative, as it ^\iil best suit 
 both their i)urposes and muie ; for it is deshable for us all, 
 Su" Gabriel, that you should hve yet a little longer. As to oiu* 
 conveyance, I beg to assure you, Sh Gabriel, that it is a pri- 
 vate one, and that I myself paid and dismissed the man who 
 di'ove you to the house of Mr. Nicholas, teUing him that I was a 
 clerk of that amiable gentleman, to give colour to which pre- 
 tence, I knocked at the outer door some little time after you 
 entered, and told the old woman who opened it, that I had 
 business with the attorney who occupies the first floor ; so that 
 after she had gone down, I salhed forthwith fi'om the house 
 and dehvered my pretended message to the cabman : it was 
 necessary that I should come out of the house ia which your 
 excellent legal adviser has his chambers, Su* Gabriel, to con- 
 vince the man that I delivered a message from you. You sec,
 
 158 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Sir Gabriel, tlie people in wliose hands yoii are at present 
 nefilect nothing?." . 
 
 The unhappy citizen only replied to this long tn-ade -with a 
 bitter gi-oau, and a most pathetic entreaty that the stranger 
 would at least remove the pistol from its present close contact 
 with his head. " For, really, my good sir," said Sir Gabriel, " I 
 would have you consider that, if you reaUy do not intend to 
 blow my brains out, whether I yield ciuietly to your request or 
 not, any sudden jolt of the carriage, or other accident equally 
 slight, may bring about that very unpleasant catastrophe." 
 
 "Eeallv," repHed the stranger, laughing, "there is some 
 truth in "what you say, Sir Gabriel. Tlicre, I have removed 
 the weapon from your head ; but I assm-e you I shall keep it 
 ready, so do not try any tricks ; for you see that your word of 
 honour not to attempt an escape is -nhat I cannot exactly rely 
 upon, for I think we may admit in your case, as in many others, 
 ' tliat vows made in pain are violent and void.' " 
 
 AVliile this conversation passed, the carriage continued to be 
 driA^en at a very rapid rate ; but there being blinds drawn close 
 over the windows, Sh Gabriel could not tell what direction was 
 being taken. It may also be readily supposed that he had but 
 little inclination to join in the jests of his companion, which, 
 to his notions, seemed rather untunely ; nor had he any desire 
 to enter into further conversation. 
 
 In little more than half an hour the carriage stopped, and 
 then the stranger said, " Be so kind as to bend down your head, 
 Sir Gabriel, and allow me to bandage your eyes. It does not 
 altogether suit with the designs of those who require your com- 
 pany that you should be able to describe the place of their 
 
 abode." , . , i • 
 
 It was with no very good wiU that Sir Gabriel submitted_ to 
 a precaution which deprived him of his last hope of discovering 
 or avenging hunself upon those persons from whom he had re- 
 ceived so gross an afli-ont. 
 
 Having tied a handkerchief so tightly across the citizens 
 eyes that he found iiimself in impenetrable darkness, the 
 stranger assisted Sir Galjriel to descend from the vehicle ; and 
 the sudden swinging of a gate, and the crunching gravel be- 
 neath his feet, mth the low rustling of leafless boughs, led hun 
 to supposf; that he was being led through a garden._ Presently 
 a (loor was unclosed, and, after various tortuous windings. Sir 
 Galn-icl found, liy the increased warmth of the ah, that he had 
 been conducted to an inner apartment of some house. His 
 conductor then removed the bandage from his eyes, and he 
 found himself in a low-roofed, dingy-looking chamber. B^ore 
 the .sinde m iiidow was dra\\-n a curtain of faded green stuli ; a 
 few old and clumsy chairs, and a long table made of mahogany,
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 159 
 
 black witli age, comprised the whole of the furniture. A large 
 fire bui'ncd in the grate, and over this fire stooped a decrepid 
 and evil-looking old \Aoman, apparently engaged in some culi- 
 nary operation, as a savouiy smell was diffused through the 
 apartment from the open saucepan, the contents of which she 
 was stirring. 
 
 " Come, ZiUah," said the companion of Sir Gabriel, " carry 
 yoiu' cooking afl'airs somewhere else, old dame ; our master lias 
 ))usiness with the honourable gentleman in my companj-, -which 
 is not exactly suited for the kn6wledge of all the old women in 
 the world." 
 
 The woman ceased her occupation at these words, and, turn- 
 ing sharply round, discovered, by the light of the candle Mhich 
 she held in her left hand, a countenance of that unmistakeable 
 character peculiar to the gipsy tribe. 
 
 "A murrain on thee I" cried she, in an angry voice ; "I am 
 sick of thee and of thy master ! Who art thou, to give thine 
 orders ? and I'll warrant thou wilt be as ill inclined to go with- 
 out thy supper as any of the rest. But there, if it be spoiled, 
 look to thyself for that mischance !" 
 
 AVith these words, the woman drew the saucepan on the hob, 
 and hobbled out of the room. On her departure, Sir Gabriel 
 naturally turned to scrutinise his comj)anion, who was a man 
 about the middle height, with a certain amount of astuteness in 
 the expression of his deep-set grey eyes, and thin, tightly- 
 drawn lips ; though Ids clear and weU-formed forehead was not 
 ploughed with any traces either of passion or of j'ears, for liis 
 age coidd scarcely have Ijeen beyond thirty. The dress of this 
 person was neat, of good material, and sufficient]}' fashionable 
 in its form. With a great show of xioliteness, he begged of the 
 baronet to take a seat, adding, " YouwiU not be detained long, 
 Sh" Gabriel, as the person by ■v^hose orders I act will be here 
 presently." 
 
 Sir Gabriel made no reply to this remark, for his heart beat 
 anxiously at the thought of the coming interview : there were 
 too many whom he was conscious of having deeply wronged, 
 for him not to be fearfidly anxious as to the termination of the 
 adventui'e. He was not long kept in suspense, for, the door 
 opening, a tall man, wrapt in a large mantle, but \A"ith his head 
 uncovered, entered. At a sign from tins new comer, the person 
 A\ ho had hitherto remained with Sir Gabriel cjuitted the room, 
 and the pair remained — the citizen and the stranger intently 
 gazing at each other, without any sjTnptouis of recognition, at 
 least on the part of the former. 
 
 "You have forgotten me, then, it seems, Gabriel Millman," 
 at length exclaimed the stranger, in a bitter tone ; " but that, 
 I admit, is no marvel : yoiu- bad designs of old succeeded fidl}-,
 
 160 LIILIAS DAV£NANT. 
 
 even as my better pxxrpose failed : you liave not had a long 
 score to keep ; no fierce longings for revenge have deepened 
 ni)on your brow the lines which your avarice and scheming 
 cruelty have ploughed ; and the tears shed by ruined ori^hans, 
 the curse of the widows whom j-ou have wi'ongecl, have not 
 bUstered 5-our face, or as j-et called down the hghtuing of 
 heaven on your head ! Oh 1 it pleases me to mark the triumi)h 
 of j-our guilt : terrible indeed must be the fall of one who has 
 iniquitously moiuited so high!" 
 
 "Sir," said the baronet, sti'ng by these taunts, "it would 
 please me much to know ti'om whose lips I am receiving so 
 excellent a honiilj^ ? It seems, too, that it was scarce necessary 
 to bring me hither to hear such a moral discourse as eveiy 
 Ijarish church will furnish on a Sundaj'." 
 
 "You wish to know who I amP" said the stranger, flinging 
 back the thick raven locks that clustered over his face, ancl re- 
 veahng features which, though wild and simbui'ned, were still 
 in their outHne eminently handsome. " Do you not know me 
 now ?" he exclauned, holding up the light : then, as Sir Gabriel 
 still gazed at him with an iQcxuiriag and unconscious air, he 
 replaced the candle on the table, and, ihnging off the large 
 mantle in which he was enveloi^ed, he a^ipeared in the fiUl uni- 
 form of a cavalry oflBcer, and said, in a voice rather mournful, 
 when contrastiug with the fierce accent he had hitherto used, 
 " Have suffering and wrong, then, so much changed me — do I 
 so deeply bear the impress of my foUy and your sin, that the 
 l^oor outward garb which your atrocious plots compelled me to 
 throw off in infamy, as one who had disgraced his profession 
 and himself— is that, I say, necessarj' to help your remembrance 
 of the man who, among all your victims, you have most foully 
 wronged ?" 
 
 The whole aspect of the stranger seemed to change as he 
 spoke tlius : his tall form rose to its utmost height, his dark 
 eyes flashed ■ndth scorn as he bent them on the cowering figure 
 of Sir Gabriel, who, his face livid with amazement and teiTor, 
 sunk gasping into a seat, while he exclaimed, in a choking 
 accent, " Does tlic sea give up its dead ? do you really Hve, and 
 stand before me P Oh ! you have your revenge ! but be mer- 
 ciful — do not, do not murder me to-night !" 
 
 " Dog !" exclaimed the stranger, throwing into the odious 
 appellation all possible amoimt of irony and loathuig, "do you 
 suppose that I liave returned to the hated shores of England 
 only to defraud the hangman of his task P — that I would defile 
 my soul A\ ith miu-der, or that, were the foul stream of j'our 
 blood this moment to be poured out before me, it would satisfy 
 the longings of my revenge P Oh ! Sir Gabriel, be assured 
 that they keep accounts well who have to wait through weary
 
 IILIIAS DATENANT, 161 
 
 years for the reckoning-. Had your villany been less success- 
 ful, had I been less a suiferer, or had sooner seen youi>unislied, 
 my hatred of your erunes, my tliirst for retribution, wovild not 
 have become the master passions of my soul ! "\\"e can forgive 
 the foe that we see punished, whether the pimishment comes 
 from our hand or not : it is the fortvmate, the prosperous vil- 
 lain, who thrives for years upon his wrong, and looks down 
 with sneers iipon our misers'— 4hat is the wretch whom we hate 
 for ever, and whose heart's blood is too poor a guerdon for our 
 revenge !" 
 
 " What is it, then, you vi-ish ? what is your design in 
 bringing me to tliis horrible place ?" cried Sir Gabriel, casting 
 his eyes round the ^vl•etched apartment, and then fixing them, 
 with an appalled look, upon the countenance of his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " No design, sir, im worthy of an oiEcer in that service from 
 which you were the means of so honourahl ij dismissing me," 
 replied the stranger, bowing with affected i)oliteuess ; then he 
 added, in a sterner tone, "Do not, however, for a moment 
 suppose that I had you brought hither merely to obtain the 
 poor woman's satisfaction of loading you with bitter words. 
 JXo ; there are many matters for yovi and I to settle ; and, 
 with yoLir own hand and tongue, shall you woi*k out my 
 revenge. To convince you also that, sooner or later, I will 
 liave this revenge, and to take from you the precious consola- 
 tion that you are dealing with a poor man, AA'hom yoiu' wealth 
 may crush. I must request you to regard the contents of this 
 box. I believe that, in youi- intense love of gold, you are not 
 unacquainted with the value of jewels ; these, I pray you to 
 obsei've, are but a little sample of the wealth which fortune has 
 lilaced in my possession, and which wealth is one of \v\y imple- 
 ments of justice. I show you these gems, lest you should for 
 a moment imagine that, m speaking of vay wealth, I make 
 a false boast; though, indeed, jou well know that I never 
 either lie or steal." 
 
 As he spoke thus, the stranger produced a small box, and. as 
 the lid flew open, it discovered, to the dazzled eyes of Su* 
 Gabriel, a quantity of unset chamonds, which, for size and 
 beauts', he liad seldom seen equalled. 
 
 " You will now. Sir Gabriel, believe that I am rich," said 
 the officer, closing the box, " and disijute the success of your 
 execrable schemes ; you are well aware that my riches are 
 honestly come by. 2sow, if vou please, Ave will s^jeak of 
 business. Your niece, Lillias l)avenant, is residing in your 
 house?" 
 
 " Yes," faltered Sir Gabriel, who had been stupified by the 
 display of the diamonds ; then he added, " but, indeed, indeed, 
 I have been kind to her." m
 
 162 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 " According to your fashion of kindness perliaps yon Lave," 
 said the stranjjer. " Bnt your mode is that of the ogre, who 
 fattens his victims ])efore he eats them ; and I have to tell 
 you, that your daughter's alEanced husband, Lord Langley, is 
 deeply in love with Lillias." 
 
 " I know it, I know it!" cried Sir Gabriel, his face becoming 
 pale with anger. " Lillias received a letter from Lord Langley 
 only yesterday ; but let him beware — he, at least, is yet in my 
 power, and dearly shall he rue it if he dares break his contract 
 with Cienevieve." 
 
 " Yes, you hold tlic mortgage on his father's estates," replied 
 the officer, " and you can totally ruin the family. You must 
 be aware, too, that it is in my power, if I choose, to portion 
 Lillias as ricldy as j^ou can endow your daughter. But you 
 ■R-iU easily comi)rehend that it is not the son of Lord Langley 's 
 mother for whom I have stored my wealth ; treat LiUias, then, 
 as iU as you please, marry Genevieve to Lord Langley, seize 
 the earl's estates, — the greater your tiiimiph at the present 
 moment, the greater will be mine hereafter. I do not wish to 
 press you into riiin, that is the office for yoiu' own hand. I 
 sent for you to-night to give you the pleasant conviction that 
 there yet hves for you a deadlier enemy even than Marion 
 Grey ; to assure you, also, that it is at your peril to suffer the 
 engagement between your daughter and Lord Langley to be set 
 aside. I know there is a design on foot for that purpose ; his 
 aunt and his sister, justly enough I admit, consider that he 
 is greatly disgraced by this purposed alliance with the daughter 
 of a vile money -jobber ; but the husband of LUhas he shall 
 never be ; and therefore I expect that you will exert all your 
 vUlany to foil the generosity of Lady Camilla, and compel him 
 to marrv^ your daughter." 
 
 "IleaUy, my friend," said Sir Gabriel, -with a sneer, "it 
 seems that our designs fit admirably, after all. It is, I assure 
 you, no part of my intention that Lord Langley should break 
 his engagements." 
 
 "Nor does it belong to mine that you should much longer 
 continue your career of crime," responded the stranger. " Jf 
 I suifer you to carry out j'our present ambitious schemes, it is 
 but to make your fall more terrible ; to add yet another horror 
 to the long-deferred punishment of your avarice and murder." 
 "Murder I" reiterated the baronet, starting from his seat, 
 and glaring wildly on his accuser. " jVo, your utmost malice 
 cannot fix upon me such a cliarge as that." 
 
 "Not my malice," replied tlie stranger, "but the awakened 
 conscience of the com])anioii of your crimes, now freed from 
 the punishment you inflicted for the knowledge of them." 
 As he .spoke the stranger rang a l^ell, and a man, whose fonn
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 163 
 
 was mucli bent, either by sickness or by age, entered the room. 
 His couiitenauee ^vas fjliastly and emaciated, and he tottered 
 rather than walked to\\ards the table, and fixing his hollow 
 but burning eyes upon Sir Gabriel, he exclaimed with a kind 
 of low laugh, in finitely horrible to hear — 
 
 " Surely, Sir Gabriel, the star of your good fortune is on the 
 wane ; earth and sea give up their prey to appear against you ; 
 the tenant of the deep waters and of the cb-eary mine." 
 
 Upon the haggard coimtenance of this man Sir Gabriel fixed 
 one -ndld, searching glance, then, uttering a fearfid cry, he fell 
 from his seat, as though a bullet had pierced his brain. 
 
 m2
 
 IGi LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXni. 
 
 " Ah I who shall hinder me to wail and weep, 
 To chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
 I'll join with black despair against my soul, 
 And to myself become an enemy." 
 
 Richard the Third. 
 
 When Sir Gabriel Millman recovered from the fit into wliich 
 lie had fallen during that paroxysm of astonishment and horror, 
 when he found that the witness and accomplice in his long- 
 concealed and most hideous crunes j'et lived, he foimd himself 
 again whirled rapidly along in a can-iage. Impenetrable dark- 
 ness was aroimd him, but he was conscious of some i)erson 
 being in-esent with him. All the horrible revelations of the 
 night thronged with lightning speed upon his memorj^ in that 
 moment of awakening consciousness, and he uttered a gi'oan 
 of mental agony. 
 
 " Come, arouse yourself, Sir Gabriel," then said a voice, 
 wluch he recognised as that of the person who had conveyed 
 him to the house where he had exiierienced such unwelcome 
 emotions; "rouseyourself!" reiterated tliis man. "It is Uttle 
 like the bold speculator, which j-ou bear the reputation of 
 being, to j'ield to the first stroke of ill fortune bke a neiwous 
 gii'l. EecoUcct, though there are hving yet those whose wit- 
 nessing you thought for ever silenced in the night of the grave ; 
 their revelations are not jet made known to the world — this 
 world of chances, which may stiU keep them silent. Besides 
 that, you are sxirely not the man to be so stupified by terror, 
 as to forget, that one at least, and the most dangerous witness 
 against you, must, in committing you, most surelj' conunit 
 liimself. Besides, the man ^\ ho seems most to hold you in his 
 
 Eower is more tractable than you imagine. He has given me 
 ere a paper, containing terms ^hich you ■otU not find it hard 
 to subscribe to. Take it, if you please, for we have reached the 
 place where I was bidden to leave .^ou." 
 
 At this moment the carriage stopped, and Su' Gabriel was 
 permitted to leave it, having first received the paper alluded to. 
 The baronet had been set down at Cliaring-cross, and, tliough it 
 flas darlc, and late on a dreary November night, or rather morn-
 
 •LILLIAS DAVENANT. 1G5 
 
 iiig, and tliat spot, so biisj^ in tlie daytime, partially deserted ; 
 there yet passed a policeman and a few straggling passengers, 
 whom he might have engaged to stop the vehicle in which he had 
 been a prisoner : but there was too much real danger to be ap- 
 prehended from the persons who had so lately held him in 
 their power ; and, hailing a cab, he proceeded towards his 
 home, in a depression of spirits such as he had never before 
 known. 
 
 His first care, on reaching once more his own house, was to 
 read the paper which had been given to him. The folio-wing 
 were its contents : — 
 
 " Do not, at this, the eleventh hour of your career, fancy, be- 
 cause its due reward approaches, that you may turn back and 
 repent; repentance is a refuge which those in whose hands 
 your destiny now rests will not allow. G9 on, be still boldly 
 wicked ; your present intrigue will but punish some ■\A'ho well 
 deserve puuislmient : dare not, then, to pause in the arrange- 
 ments for the marriage of your daughter. 
 
 "The Avengee." 
 
 Sir Gabriel folded up the paper with a bitter sigh, and then 
 flingmg it into the fire, watched it bui'niug with an expression 
 of frightful despair. 
 
 ****** 
 
 At about the same hour as Sir Gabriel reached his home. 
 Lady Daylsford, who, fatigued -n-ith her journey, had retired 
 early to rest, awoke suddenly with the^ impression that sonu^ 
 person had entered her chamber. FearfuUy she raised herself 
 upon her elbow, and drawing aside the bed-curtam, sank back 
 again upon her pillow with a faint cry of horror, when she 
 perceived by the flame of the lamp the tall figure of Gerald 
 Tracy, with' his arms folded, and his dark eyes bent staring on 
 her "face. Wlien he found that the countess was awake, 
 Tracy stepped nearer to the couch : but the lady was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 " Great Heaven !" she gasped, " why am I thus persecuted ? 
 how came you hither, and for what?" 
 
 " How Icame hither, Eleanor," replied Tracy, "matters not 
 to you ; suffice it that when an mterview with you is neces- 
 sary to my designs, I shall always find means to i^rocure it ; yet 
 I shoidd not have intruded on you at this unseendy hour, but 
 that I find there is an intrigue among certain members of your 
 family to x)revent the marriage of your eldest son ^A'ith Geue- 
 xieve MUhnan : it is for you to see that she becomes his wife." 
 
 " I !— I become instrmnental to the miserj^ of mj- dear son !" 
 cried Lady Daylsford — "I, if he can escape from the coil, be
 
 166 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 tlie means of uniting^ liim to tliat insipid doll, that low-bom 
 offspring of the blackest villain in the world !" 
 
 '* Even you, madam," said Tracy ; " you will insist that your 
 son becomes the husband of Genevieve Milhnan ! As to yoxu* 
 dishke to her father, it is perhaps natural ; but I must say — cer- 
 tain passages of your life considered— rather unjust. Your 
 loathing of Sir Gabriel is based, I suppose, upon the principle 
 that our hatred is the meet reward of those ^^ho help our bad 
 designs ; but be that as it may, it will be j^our task to inform 
 your son that it is on peril of his mother's ruin that he will 
 refuse to wed Genevieve Milhnan." 
 
 " But I will not — I cannot do that," exclaimed the countess. 
 " Oh, mercy ! mercy ! by the remembrance of our bygone days, 
 of our pleasant youth, urge me not to do this !" 
 
 " If you cast your thoughts backwards, Eleanor," repHed 
 Trac.y; "ifj^ou remember the days of youth, you must also 
 recollect that the piirity , the guilelessness of that blessed season, 
 was never yours. "When had you the artlessness of youth ! — you, 
 the unfeminine, the imjdelding !— whose morning of beauty was 
 passed in calculations not unfitting the age of a man such as 
 Su* Gabriel Millman : you, who trafBcked more vilely ^\ith 
 your charms than does the tuihaj)py wretch who depends u^jon 
 their sale for bread ! you, who wlule avowing the natural and 
 gentle impidses of humanity, made a boast of crushmg them 
 under the basest of interests ! Oh ! talk not, Eleanor, of the 
 days of your youth, plead not their remembrances in behalf of 
 the worst member of your family — for such is your eldest son." 
 
 "But that man!" murmured Lady Daylsford ; "oh, your 
 revenge is too bitter, when you would force me into com- 
 munion vdih. him — compel me to become a suppliant to such a 
 wretch !" 
 
 "You are ungrateful. Lady Daylsford," coolly rephed Tracy; 
 " Sir Gabriel Millman was not thus odious to you in the days 
 of old, ■« hen he aided you to carry out your worst of schemes : 
 but, though confidentijil communications with him may be ever 
 so detestable, you must engage in them, and let mutual interest 
 make a bond between you now, as it did in bygone years ; and 
 console yourself, Eleanor, with this reflection, that, after all, 
 Genevieve Millman is very amiable, as unhke her father in 
 person as in mind, and will very probably make for your selfish 
 and dissolute son a much better wife than he deserves to pos- 
 sess." 
 
 " Yet spare me !" said the countess, weeping ; " I will acknow- 
 ledge that I desen^e your worst reproaches, the most bitter task 
 that 3'our vengeance can inflict ; but if not for the sake of Ho- 
 ratio, for that of my husband, spare me ! Oh, you know not how
 
 LILLIAS DA.VBNANT. 167 
 
 bitter is this degrading marriage to us all; and whatever 
 l)e my gnilt, whatever the foibles of Horatio, yet is the earl 
 the most noble-minded of men, one well deserving to be loved, 
 as, alas, I have never been able to love him ; and Edward and 
 Emdy arc everything that is generous and good." 
 
 "In all this, Eleanor, you speak truly," answered Tracy ; 
 and therefore is it that I am determined that the marriage be- 
 tween your eldest son and Genevieve Millman shall take i)lacc. 
 By no faidt of his own is it that the estates of your husband 
 are so deeply enthralled. Your son, Edwtu-d, has endured the 
 shghts and sufferings, the heritage of a younger brother, too 
 long, and it were scarce meet that your noble-hearted daughter 
 should sacrifice for the worst of her brothers that fortune so 
 justly due to her beauty, her goodness, and her rank. Lord 
 Langley has sacrified all others to his cai^rices, let him now 
 become the sacrifice himself." 
 
 As Tracy spoke thus, he turned to leave the apartment, but 
 the voice of the countess arrested his steps. "Yet stay !' she 
 exclaimed ; "tell me what I am to do, or to say, in this cruel 
 position." 
 
 " Your task is very obvaous," rcphed Tracy. " It is surely 
 easy for people so qidck-witted as you and Sir Gabriel, to play 
 the spider's part, and fasten such jioor sunple flies as your hus- 
 band and son in the toils : look you. Sir Gabriel is of course 
 crueUy irritated at the affront which your son designs to put 
 upon his daughter, and it wWl be your task to soothe his exas- 
 perated feclmgs : perhaps also," concluded Tracy, with a wither- 
 ing sneer, " you can find some httle debts of yom- own — some 
 jewellers' and milliners' bills, or a gambhng debt, to help out 
 your husband's embarrassments, and make it very necessary 
 that he shoidd remain upon good terms with Sir Gabriel MUl- 
 man. But, with your leave, Lady Dajdsford, ha\dng now sug- 
 gested a course which I think you will not find diificidt to 
 pursue,^J will withdraw ; for I promised the friend who gave 
 me admittance here, that our conversation shoidd not occupy 
 ten minutes, and I should be sorry that your family gained 
 any note of our interview, as, careworn though I may be, and 
 lovely, despite the lapse of years, as you remain, it would not 
 please me to be mistaken for your lover." 
 
 "Who— who among my servants is it who has dared admit 
 you at all ? oh that I could learn that !" cried Lady Day Is - 
 ford, indignantly. 
 
 " The kno-wledge, madam, woidd avail you httle," answered 
 Tracy ; " I do not work with didl knaves. As you suppose, I 
 have a tool among your household ; but I advise j'ou not to 
 uiake too curious search to find on whom my influence prevails j
 
 168 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 it would ill suit you, I think, tliat your lord should Icam our 
 interviews or their purport, thoujjh, indeed, we be not lovers." 
 As he spoke thus, Tracy quitted the apartment, leaving Lady 
 Daylsford to indulge in an agony of tears, and with herniind in 
 a state of liorror jind eon fusion not less than that Avhich 
 still agitated Sir Gabriel Milhnan.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " Jly conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 And every tonguii brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condonnn mc for a villain ; 
 Torjury, perjury, in the highest degree — 
 Jlurd'jr, stern nuu'dei-, in the direst degree — 
 All several sins, all used in each degree. 
 Throng to the bar, crying all guilty ! guilty ! 
 1 shall despair ! 
 
 Richard the Third. 
 
 The liall clock had just struck one, when Su* Gabriel Millmau 
 reached his home. The family, with the exception of tlie ser- 
 vant who had sat uj) for him, had retired to rest ; for Sir 
 Harry Verc had withdrawn immediately after his interview 
 wiih. Lillias ; nor did Ed\vard Laugiey then long dela.^'_ his 
 dei>arture, for bitterly as he had been wounded by Genevieve 
 the night before, he had no v^isk for a private conversation 
 with her, which he looked upon as a likely result of the half- 
 closed eyes and nodding head of her stepmother, who, having 
 indulged in an tmusual quantity of wine at supper as a sedative 
 for her nerves, shattered, as she said, by the discourteous con- 
 duct of Lillias, was m a very fit condition for the mimediate 
 company of her i)illow. 
 
 As to Lillias, on reaching her chamber, she found that her 
 sister, fatigued, doubtless, by the excursion of the day, had 
 already fallen asleep : and she was but too thankfid to escape 
 the questions which the poor child woidd have put, had she 
 seen the state of agitation into which she had been tliro\An by 
 the inf\inious declaration of Sir Harry Vere. The excitement 
 of spirits under which Lillias was suffering, kept her awake 
 long after she had retired to her bed, and when she at length 
 sank into slumber, it was hght and easil,y dispelled. Thus it ^^ as 
 that, about three in the morning, she ■\\as disturbed by the 
 sound of a hollow groan, seemingly uttered by some person 
 Avithout the door of her chamber. LiUias raised herself fear- 
 fully ill her bed, and presently the groan was repeated, while 
 a heavy dull stei), as of a naked foot, passed along the passage. 
 Apprehending that some member of the household was ill, 
 Lillias rose, and, slipping on a dressing-gown, took the lamp 
 which she al\^ ays burned during the night, and gently opened 
 the door of her chamber, -\\hich. ho'l^ ever, she more hastily
 
 170 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 closed, when she perceived her uncle approaching Tvith snch 
 wildness and hon-or in his looks, as she had never before 
 "witnessed. Sir Gabriel was attired in a morning gown, and 
 without a cravat ; yet there was a speculation in his ej-es which 
 forbade her to believe that he was suifering under an attack of 
 souuanibiJism. AYith a shudder, she felt that it was some stem 
 reaht\^ of thought which had driven him from his bed with those 
 desperate looks, perhaps to dare some still more desperate deed. 
 The bitter knowledge of the world which Lillias had obtained, 
 from the calamities of her family, had made her aware what 
 awfid reverses frequently awaited the fortunes of such men as 
 Sir Gabriel Milhnan : she had heard, too, how ill they would 
 bear poverty who scrupled not by what means they could 
 amass wealth ; and fully was she conscious, that even amid his 
 great successes the fear of losmg his ill-got gains miglit gnaw 
 like a -vTilture on her uncle's heart ; that the apprehension even 
 of a loss might urge him desperately to fling away his life ; 
 and as she heard him rapidly descend the stau's, at the foot of 
 AAhich was his library, she remembered that in a cabinet there 
 he kept a pair of loaded pistols, which, indeed, he had laugh- 
 inizly shown to her the day after her arrival in town. A 
 cold dew bathed the limits of Lillias, as this horrible thouglit 
 glanced across her mind, and, with her hght footsteps winged 
 by terror, she pursued Sir Gabriel to the Hbrary, where slie 
 found him, indeed, unlocking the fatal cabinet. Speechless 
 with apprehension, she darted forwards, and laid a hand, damp 
 and corpse-hke, upon that of her uncle, as he raised it to the 
 shelf on which lay the loaded weapons. Startled by the touch, 
 Sir Gabriel tiu-ned his ej-es upon her face, and, shaking off her 
 cold hand, he uttered a ciy of horror, and retreated with his 
 arms outstretched, as if to repel her approach, exclaiming, at 
 the same lime, in broken accents, "Oh, spare me, spare me, 
 Mabel ! I did but counsel, not commit, the deed ! Oli, thou 
 art well avenged ! My days and my nights are ahke hideous. 
 I have grown old in my sorrow and my sin ; while thou comest 
 in thy shroud, after long years have rolled away, with its youth 
 and Ijeauty in thy white face, even as when we laid thee in thy 
 coffin ! " 
 
 Fearful tliat her miserable relative was attacked with positive 
 insanity, Lillias woiild still have approached him, for the 
 purpose of disi)clling his illusion ; but yet he retreated from 
 before her, and, sinking into a large chair, he covered his face 
 with his hands, as if the sight of her were too ten'ible to bear. 
 Perceiving that licr presence, for some imknown reason, 
 evidently increased his horror, Lillias left the room, for the 
 purpose of summoning assistance; but just as she turned from 
 the door, she caught sight of Lady Millman on the stairs, and,
 
 LILLU8 DAVENANT. 171 
 
 donbtiri]^ not that slie was in search of her husband, Lillias 
 slipped Into the little boudoir where she had held her un- 
 pleasinpr communication with Sir HaiTy Vere ; for she was ill 
 disposed to meet her aunt, after the insults she had so lately 
 received from her. As LUlias apprehended, Lady Milhnau 
 had been indeed alanned by the absence of her husband, and 
 as the partition between the hbraiy and the boudoir was but 
 thin, she could not aA'oid heariuf;; what passed between her 
 Tuicle and his wife. The fii'st sound was of passionate weeping 
 on the part of Lady ]\lilhnan — a bitter moaning over her 
 verj^ sleepless nights. " Oh, heaven ! " exclaimed the wretched 
 woman, " shall I never know a quiet night again ! Oh, ac- 
 cursed be j'our riches, husljand, -vAhich rob us of all comfort ! 
 Can you not be a man ? Have you no firmness P AMiat 
 though you have had some losses lately, are you not rich 
 still — enormously rich ? Will you hang yourself or cut your 
 throat for the loss of a few thousands ? That ^^ ould be indeed 
 to please your dear friends." 
 
 " Hush, hush, Jane," cried Sir Gabriel : " it is not that— it is 
 not the money, my dear wife — it is not that which troubles 
 me ; but I have seen her — I have seen her again ; she stood 
 before me in her white shroud, with her dark hair all hanging 
 about her, as I saw it on the night she died ; and she touched 
 me, Jane ; she touched me with her cold hand. Oh ! I will 
 repent — I ■will be honest. I have not long to hve, when the 
 dead rise from their graves and stand before me. Oh, but this 
 is a good world, and it is hard, hard to leave it ! " 
 
 " Nor need you leave it yet awhile, we may hope," said Lady 
 MiUman, " if you will but act and thuik as a man of sense, 
 instead of demeaning yoiu'self like a crazy old woman. Whom 
 have you seen? what has troubled you? You have got up 
 and come down here in au attack of the nightmare, I suppose ! " 
 
 " No, no, Jane ! " persisted Sir Gabriel. " This tune it was 
 no nightmare — no illusion : she — JVIabel — stood before me mth 
 her dark ej-es and pale face, just aa I saw her on the night she 
 died!" 
 
 " Do have done with such fancies," said Lady ^Mdlman, 
 " and come to bed again. I declare you make mj" blood creep 
 •R-ith the way in which you talk about the hon-id death of that 
 poor yomig thing. If you had had a hand in it yourself you 
 could not think of it more. Do put such a di'eadful matter 
 out of 3'oui- head. "NMiat have you to do with always tor- 
 menting yourself about a dreadful business that happened so 
 manv years ago ! " 
 
 " AVhat, what, indeed ! " cried Sir Gabriel, with a ghastly 
 attempt at laughter, which chiUed the blood of Lillias to over- 
 hear; "what have I to do with these thoughts of poor Mabel?
 
 172 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 But oil ! Jane, I did see lier, and felt lier cold hand — the hand 
 of a corpse, even as I feel your warm one now ! " 
 
 As Sir Gabriel spoke tlius, Lillias heard hun, Avith his wife, 
 proceed towards the staircase, but she TAaited tUl the sound of 
 their footsteps had wholly ceased, ere she herself ventured forth. 
 On regammg her chamber, she placed the lam]) upon her 
 dressing-table, and as her eyes fell upon her own figure in the 
 glass, she felt that the fancy of Su" G-abriel was not perhaps so 
 extraordbiary, for one whose conscience appeared so a-wfully 
 diseased as his. It was a white va-appcr that, in the hurry of 
 leaving her bed-room, she had throvrn around her : and her 
 dark hau' having esca])ed from the cap which confined it, hung 
 in loose disordered tresses, and contrasted with the extreme 
 pahor of her face ; for the horrible apprehension ■with regard to 
 her uncle, which had mduced Lillias to leave her chamber, had 
 startled away the httle coloui" A\hic]i she usually possessed. 
 
 Long after she had again soxight her bed was sleep banished 
 from the eyes of Lilhas l)y her harassing thoughts. Come 
 what would, she determined forthwith to qviit the house of her 
 uncle. What a lesson had been the late frightful scene as to 
 the real amount of happiness which he derived from his ill- 
 got wealth ! what terrible sus])icious of the darkest crimes had 
 his superstitious frenzy roused ! Not, indeed, that Lillias ap- 
 prehended more than that Sir Gabriel had used the poison of 
 poverty to slay ; that the bitter draught had been distilled, 
 drop by drop, to some unfortunate, who had neither sti'ength 
 of mind nor frame to bear it. Oh ! how proudly, and bliss- 
 fidly, too. did the heart of Lillias bovmd at the remembrance of 
 those noble friends Mhose generosity would release her from 
 her thraldom m the house of this man. Some satisfaction, too, 
 did she feel, apart from a sclfisli one, that Lord Langley would 
 escape the degradation of so close an alhance with her uncle's 
 fiiniily ; indeed, it was necessary to remember that it was 
 through her gentle and high-minded mother that she herself, 
 in some measure, belonged to it, to escape a blush at the con- 
 nexion. Nor did Lillias, m the long watches of the night, fail 
 to remember Tracy and his injunctions — those injunctions 
 ^^'hich, in truth, she had resolved to violate. It was too much, 
 she thouglit, that tlu- prime actions of her life were to be 
 direcled l)y Uiat nuua, and all that she conceived her happiness 
 subjected to his caprice, however unportant his influence, or his 
 objects, however aM'ful the secret which he had entrusted to 
 her keeping.
 
 IIILIAS DAVENANT. 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " oil, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog, 
 And for thy life let Justice be accused. 
 Thou mak'st me almost waver in my faith, 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men. Tiiy currish spirit 
 Governed a wolf: for thy desires 
 Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous ! " 
 
 Merchant of Venice, 
 
 TiiK first tiling wliicli met tlie eyes of Lillias wlien slie awoke, 
 in the mornuig, from the heavy but imrefreshing sleep into 
 whidi she had at length fallen, was a letter in the a\ ell-known 
 hand of Gerald Tracy, lying on the table by lier bedside. 
 
 MarvelHug more at the promptness of this reply to her coni- 
 municalion of the previous day, than even at the mysterious 
 mode in Mhieh it was delivered, Lillias hastily tore it open. 
 It was very brief in its terms, and sufficiently severe in its 
 purj^ort. 
 
 " I have no power, Lillias," began Gerald Tracy, " to control 
 your actions; lean but give you my most solemn warniiigs, 
 my most earnest entreaties ; if, then, you are anxious to seciu-e 
 misery for your whole life, you will marry Lord Langley; in 
 spite of having learned that he is selfish and dissolute ; in spite 
 of tliat woful knowledge of the wrongs of your parents, ■\\hich 
 might show ho\^' fire and water shotdd rather unite, than your 
 hand in marriage with that of Lord Langley. For the last 
 time, Lillias, I bid you beware. Oh, unthinking girl, how largo 
 a share of AATetchedness are you storing for the future !" 
 
 ]jillias angrily destro.yed this letter as soon as read : it was 
 not while still S7narting under the recollection of the insults 
 inilicted on her by her uncle's ■\^•ife, only tlie night before, tliat ' 
 she was iikelj^ to hesitate in accepting such proposals as Loi'd 
 Langley's, which woidd not only free her from the thraldom 
 endured at the hands of her relatives, but also from the stiil 
 grosser aflront of a repetition of such proposals as those of Sir 
 Harry \cy(}. 
 
 On descending to the school-room she, as usual, took hen* 
 breakfast with the children, and then sent an iu(^uii'y, as 
 to whether Sir Gabriel would spare her a few moments for
 
 174 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 conversation. She was, however mformecl, that he had abeady 
 gone out. She little knew how important was that day to her 
 uncle ; for there was to be tried in the Court of King's Bench, 
 the cause at issue between him and Eustace Vere ; a fact, 
 which was, of course, not likely to be much talked about in his 
 own family, and one which Eustace possessed far too much 
 dehcacy to hint at when she "visited his mother. Another cir- 
 cumstance of import to the Millmans, and of much more to 
 Lilhas, was mentioned in the com-se of the morning ; namely, 
 that Lord Langley had just arrived in town, and woidd, toge- 
 ther with his family, dine in Portman-square on that day ; at 
 this dinner, too, it was intimated to LiUias that she must be 
 present. This was a requisition very disagreeable to her ; for 
 she did not forget that both Lady Emily and her brother had 
 written, that from the unhappy state of their father's affairs, 
 some caution and delay would be necessary Lii breaking off the 
 engagement with Genevieve Milhnan. Lilhas doubted not 
 from the grossness of Lady Mdlmau's conduct on the preceding 
 night, that some affront would be put upon her in the presence 
 of that famUy, before whom she could command the least mag- 
 nanimit>' to bear it. Determined, however, was LiUias, that 
 this day shoidd put an end to her durance in the house of her 
 uncle ; the money that she owed him she would retiu-n out of 
 what had been given to her by Gerald Tracy on the night of 
 her father's death ; a proceeding which -nould certainly compel 
 her to enter on the \^'orld again, ■v\"ith less than five pounds iu 
 her purse ; but, she trusted, should the dissolving of the en- 
 gagement with Genevieve occupy more time than Lady EmUy 
 expected, to take the situation of governess in any family 
 upon even the meanest terms, rather than prolong the miser- 
 able existence which she endured in that of her uncle. She 
 therefore told the servant who brought in the school-room 
 dinner, to let her know so soon as Sir Gabriel returned : an 
 event ■« liich took i)lace about five in the afternoon, when the 
 man informed her that his master had gone into the library 
 with Lady Mdlman and his eldest son. 
 
 LUhas immediately put into the hand of her sister the book 
 from A\ hich she was hearing one of the youjiger children read, 
 and ([uitted the school-room with the intention of seeking an 
 interview with her uncle; at which interview, it little con- 
 cerned her that Lady MUlman and Frederick were likely to 
 be present, for she had no intention of witliholding from her 
 uncle her sentiments as to his wife's behaviour, and Frederick 
 liad been uniformly kind and civil whenever she happened to 
 meet him, since the first day of her residence in his father's 
 house.
 
 tILLIAS DAVENANT. 175 
 
 INteantimo, the servant had slo-^vly followed her from the 
 scliool-rooiii, and as lie closed the door he said with a down- 
 cast look, " I hope as you wont he allronted. miss, htit if so be 
 as you is groing to ask master anything of a favour like, whj^, if 
 I may be so bold as to give my advice, you woiddn't set about 
 it just now, for he's come home in a mortal ill humoiu* about 
 that law matter of yoimg Mr. Vere : which is gone quite 
 against him, miss; but I suppose you knows all about it, 
 for William teUs us in the hall, as you are acquainted mth 
 Mr. Vere." 
 
 " Not enough to know anything of law business between 
 him and my uncle, Thomas," rephed Lilhaswith a smile, " and 
 as to my trjdng to see Sir Gabriel, I may as well do so now, as 
 at any other time, for it seems rather difficult to have a word 
 with iiim, and I am not going to ask a favour." 
 
 " Oh, if so be as you are not going to ask anything, miss, 
 its all very well," said the servant; *' but I can teUyou, master's 
 in a towering rage; howsomever it comes out as the judge said, 
 the whole thing was a mortal bad business, and as how that 
 Mr. Vere ought to have his father's fortin back again ; but you 
 needn't say as I told you that, miss." 
 
 " Do not fear me, Thomas," answered LUhas ; " I shall not 
 repeat anything:" and as she spoke thus, she proceeded to- 
 wards the hbrary, with her mind awakened to a consciousness 
 of yet another phase in her uncle's vdlany. 
 
 She heard the voice of Sir Gabriel, apparently loud in 
 anger, as she ai^proached the apartment : but, in answer to 
 her simimons, the door was opened by Frederick, who shrug- 
 ging his shoulders, said, in a low tone, but mth a comic ex- 
 pression of countenance — 
 
 " Come in, Lillias, come in, and see what a fine tragedian papa 
 makes ; reaDy, his voice woidd tell to advantage at JDrury- 
 lane. Come in, my dear ; as you are one of the family there is 
 no reason you should be shut out of secrets with which it 
 seems all the servants are to be acquainted." 
 
 _" What are you about there, sir ? who are you muttermg to ?" 
 cried Sii- Gabriel, for his son had half-closed the door while 
 speaking to Lillias. 
 
 " Only Lillias, my most honoured father," said Frederick, 
 almost forcibly drawing his cousin into the room ; when, having 
 pushed her mto a chair, he made a profound bow to his father, 
 and said, " Now, su-, if it pleases you to favom- us with another 
 specimen of your brilliant declamation, j-ou will have more ad- 
 mirers than myself and mamma ; for though, as I have just 
 been saj^ing to Lilhas, the purport of j-our discourse is doubt- 
 less heard .iu the servants' hall, the flowing beauty of your
 
 176 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 poriodi?, and tlie energy of your tlioughts, can only be fully en- 
 joyed by persons iDresent in this room." 
 
 "Is it not enough, sir," said tbe baronet, sternly, "tbatl 
 must endure the defeat of tbis day, but tbat you must make a 
 mockery of my vexation, and force your cousin, a comparative 
 stranger, to witness it ?" 
 
 "Dear papa, tliere is no forcing in the matter," answered 
 Frederick. " I'll sv.ear that LiUias could not look at the news- 
 l)apers but she would see the whole story ; and, of coiirse, those 
 rascally fellows who -oTite in them will make a glorious story 
 of the -nhole affair ; the poor simple, confiding Mr. Vere, 
 hun'ied into the grave by that complaint ^hich the medical 
 men tell iis does not exist — a broken heart, and the great capi- 
 talist who got possession of his money ! And then think how 
 Eustace will come out ; such a dashing, noble-minded, deter- 
 mined fellow, left without a penny in the world, struggling to 
 support his mother, and boldly facing the Colossus of wealth, 
 ."S-our lionourable self, upon the might and right of the noble 
 Engbsh law. Oh, dear papa, you had better tell LiUias the 
 tale yourself; first impressions go a gi-eat way; let her hear 
 your' version of the story — you may take my word for it you -\^ill 
 not shine in the newspapers !" 
 
 " We shall see, my son, we shall see," cried Sir Gabriel, with 
 a fiendish cliuckle ; then he added, in a furious voice, " Oh ! I 
 will crush that villain yet— I'll drag him through every Court in 
 the kingdom ! liCt him find the monej' to face me in Chancery. 
 T'U ruin, I'll starve him ! I'll send him to the workhouse— liiin 
 and his proud mother, the lady, the beautj-, the heroine ! AVe 
 sliall see how she can suffer." 
 
 "Eeallv, papa," said Frederick, "I fear that you will impress 
 my dear liUle cousin here with the idea that you are a most 
 tin-Christian-like and' disagreeable old gentleman ; a sort of 
 Shylock and Sir Giles Overreach roUed into one— not a ])leasant 
 compound. I assure you. And, as to this notion of ruin and 
 starvation for Eustace, I think, for my part, the poor fellow has 
 had enough of both already : do be quiet, my dear papa— forget 
 and. forgive, and submit peaceably to the decrees of dame 
 Justice !" 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Frederick MiUman, the amount of the 
 sum which dame Justice requires that I should peaceably-, as 
 you are pleased to term it, give up to yom- very dear and 
 b()iioural)lo friend, Mr. Eustace Vere?" 
 
 Sir Gabriel uttered these words with an ironical accent, and 
 fixed hir? eyes keenly upon his son as he spoke, w hile the smile 
 that curled his lip seemed to indicate that he had some very 
 conclusive argument m reserve.
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 177 
 
 " Eeally, mino honovired fiithcr," said Frederick, " I cannot 
 form any idea ; you know I am not in the habit of ti-oiibUng 
 myself much with business details— perhaps it woidd have 
 been as weU that I had looked at them a Httlo more 
 closely ?" 
 
 " And I think, for my part," interposed Lady Millman 
 " that Fred is quite right, Sir Gabriel ; you had better give 
 the young man his money quietly, and not have any more 
 annoyance about it ; surely the sum is not enough to ruin 
 
 you?" . ,, . . 
 
 " Oh ! certainly not, madam — certauily not ;" cried Sir 
 Gabriel. " Certainly, the loss of sixty thousand pounds, costs 
 out of the question, will not ruin me— the loss of sixty 
 thousand pounds will not ruin me ! stUl, it is a fair sum — a 
 tolerable sum : sixty thousand pounds, madam — do you hear 
 that? It is sixty thousand pounds, madam, which I am 
 reriuired to pay my son's honourable friend, Mr. Eustace 
 Vere. Ah ! ma'dam, what have you and your son to say to 
 that ? your son, for whom you want an allowance, madam ; 
 and you, madam, who must keep up your acquaintance 
 with women of qualitjs by sufFeriug them to cheat you at the 
 card-table !" 
 
 Lady MUhnan. of course, fired at this insinuation, and she 
 replied, with a bitter sneer, " It will be a long whUe, Sir 
 Gabriel, I believe, before I spend at cards the amount of the 
 first instalment off the mortgages on the Earl of Daylsford's 
 estates, which you wiU lavish to buy a title for your favourite 
 daughter. And, as to the affair with the A''eres, I tell you 
 plainly, the whole thing is a botch— you shoiild never have 
 robbed them at all, or managed to keep the spoil.'' 
 
 " Thank you, madam — a thousand thanks," said _ Sir 
 Gabriel, bowing to his wife : then he tui-nod to Frederick : 
 " Ajid you, SU-, after the gi-acious example set by your ex- 
 cellent mother, what dust have you to throw in the face of 
 your father ?" 
 
 "None, sir," replied Frederick, firmly; then he added, 
 with an accent and look of deep feeling, " let me beseech 
 you, father, be for once advised, even by me ; be assured that 
 to drag Eustace Vere from court to court, will be but to cover 
 yourself with obloquy, and not to save the money at last: 
 submit to the decree already pronounced — give up the money 
 with a good grace ; who then coidd blame 30U ? you were not 
 boimd to know that the law did not permit you at once' to 
 take the place both of broker and merchant. What, after all, 
 is this sum out of your great wealth? And, as far as I am 
 concerned, father, sooner than that a suit, which I must call 
 80 disgraceful, should continue to be pressed against you, I
 
 178 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 
 
 woidd toil lilvc tlie lowest clerk in joiiv counting-house, 
 or take a spade and d\g." 
 
 " Woidd yon, indeed, sir," said tlie baronet ; " really I 
 had no idea" of your Spartan self-denial, and I shall be glad 
 to see it exercised on any occasion rather than the present; 
 for in this I declare my preference for my own resolves, 
 even above the advice of my incomparable wife, and most 
 self-denying son." 
 
 During this scene Lillias had more than once attempted 
 to rise and leave the room, but Frederick, who stood by 
 her, had on cacli occasion restrained her with his hand ; 
 her imcle having, as he thought, disposed of his wife and 
 son, now turned iierccly towards her. "And you, madam — 
 you !" he exclaimed ; " may I be permitted to require the 
 reason of your presence here ? It is, I do not doubt, vastly 
 agreeable to yovir father's daughter to see me brov. -beaten 
 and insulted by my own family ; but, mark me, madam, it 
 is not quite so agreeable to ]ne — so say what you AAant forth- 
 with : it is enough for me to knovr how your father alwaj's 
 railed at me and my family ; I do not wish you to see any 
 more of the justification of nil he said — so be pleased now to 
 teU me what you want, niadaju ?" 
 
 " I have no wish to intrude upon a knowledge of your 
 family quarrels. Sir Gabriel Mdhnan," said Lillias, "and I 
 can assure j^ou, that you were mvich less in the mind and 
 speech of my dear father than you seem to imagine. As to the 
 
 Purpose of my i)resent intrusion, it was to infonn you that 
 must T\ ithdraw from your house : tlie life I have led since 
 I entered it is too truly miserable to be endured." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear niece, I am truly sorry for that," said 
 Sir Gabriel ; " for you forget, it seems, tliat there is a httle 
 money matter between us, which you were to settle by the 
 instruction of your cousins." 
 
 " I am i)repared to pay the money I owe you, sir, forth- 
 with," said Lillias, i)lacing the amount on the table. Sir 
 Gabriel took uj) the note with an air of astonishment. 
 
 " EcaUy, Miss Davenant," he said, " as your nearest sur- 
 
 I viving relation, I should be glad to learn how you have 
 
 sucli a sum as thirty pounds in your ])osscssion, if your 
 
 story A\as true, that you required assistance to that amount 
 
 from me to pay the expenses of your father's funeral ?" 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, that I cannot acqiiaint you with the 
 manner in wJiich I became possessed of that money, '' re- 
 phcd Lillias. "It must really sulfice thatl avei'iit 'e&me 
 into my hands in no dishonourable mannerl'' n. . m'— - 
 
 " Indeed !" cried Sir Gabriel ; then, bowing'with haironi-
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 179 
 
 cal air, lie saicl. " Since money accounts are settled between 
 us, and I admit that I cannot perforce compel you to re- 
 main in my liouse, may I be allowed, my charming niece, 
 to sohcit. as a personal favour, that you will prolong- your 
 stay until to-morrow ; we are to have a tritliug entertain- 
 ment this evening, at wliich I shoidd really feel obliged by 
 your presence." 
 
 "I amimwilling, sir," said Lillias, "to offer any unne- 
 cessaiy disrespect to a person who stood in a relationship 
 so near as yours to m-^' dear mother ; but, at the same time, 
 I must declare that I would wilHngly avoid mmgling in 
 any party this evening." 
 
 ''I dai-e say you vrould avoid it, my niece," said bir 
 G-abriel; "especially the party who will assemble here to- 
 night ; but I really cannot take- account of any little broil 
 you may have had'with your dear friend. Lady Emily ; and 
 I must have your wit and elegance, and accomplishments, 
 in the drawing-room this evening — therefore to your toilet, 
 if you please, and aiTay yourself so as to eclipse my poor 
 GeneA'ieA'-e." 
 
 The sneer conveyed by Sir Gabi-iel's last words ^-as too 
 contemptible for notice, and Lillias resolved to comply with 
 his request, that she would be present at the expected 
 dinner party, less out of any regard for the violence of his 
 manner, than from a consideration of what was due to her- 
 self—a resolution to show the family of Lord Langley that 
 she had not been quite crushed by the treatment she had 
 experienced in the house of her uncle. Her strong feeling 
 of indignation, however, determined Lillias to reject all 
 presents from her uncle ; thus, when she retired to rbess for 
 dinner, she laid aside the ornaments of pearls and jet which 
 had been presented to her on the night of her arrival in 
 town, and wore only a wreath of white crape flowers in her 
 hair, and one of her mourning dresses, without any orna- 
 mcnt. Lillias had had but little private speech with her 
 cousin Genevieve since her arrival in Portman-square ; it 
 might be, that since her knowledge of the engagement 
 between the latter and Lord Langley, Lillias had, yvith. a 
 kind of instinctive jealousy, shrunk from confidence in the 
 woman, to whom his most serious worldly interests seemed 
 to attach the man she loved ; or, that Genevieve herself, 
 wholly occupied with griefs which she scarcely dared ac- 
 knowledge, stood too much in awe of her cousin's high 
 mind and strict principle, to acknowledge that an abject 
 fear of her fiither actuated her in bestowing her hand upon 
 Lord Lauglev. 
 
 n2
 
 180 LILLIAS DAVENAiJT. 
 
 Having, then, for tlie last few days stood, as it were, at a 
 distance from licr cousin, Lillias was somewhat surprised 
 when, just as she had comiileted her toilette, Genevieve's 
 waiting-maid brought from the latter a request that her 
 cousin would visit her in her own apartment. On proceed- 
 ing thither, LiUias found Genevieve already attired, with an 
 ahnost regal magnificence, in a robe of dark blue velvet, 
 which thi'ew into strong rehef the exquisite whiteness of 
 her skin, and wearing amid her bright hair a profusion of 
 diamonds. Genevieve appeared to be suffering imder some 
 considerable agitation, and this it probably was that deep- 
 ened the usually delicate tint of her cheek to the richest 
 tints of the rose. So dazzUngly beautiful did she appear, 
 that the heart of poor Lillias sank as she beheld her : for 
 never had there lived a woman more wholly destitute of 
 vanity as to her own personal attractions ; and scarcely, 
 when she looked upon her cousin, did she hope that Lord 
 Langley could remain faithful to herself, or proof against 
 such unusual attractions. A smile, more bitter than any 
 which she had yet seen cross the lip of the gentle Gene- 
 vieve, was observed by Lillias, as her cousin, having bidden 
 the attendant withdrav,', motioned her to a seat. 
 
 "Well, Lillias," said Genevieve, in a tone as bitter as 
 her smile, " I doubt not you think me very happy, and 
 contrast my position very naturally with your own: oh! I 
 will acknowledge that fortune seems most unjust, when 
 you, for the lack even of a little wretched pelf, are subjected 
 to such insidts as you endured last night from such a 
 person as my step-mother ; nay, such as I have heard that 
 my father himself has offered you to-day, while I am loaded 
 with all the advantages which money can prociu-e. Come, 
 acknowledge, LUlias, that you compare your acquirements 
 and your fate with mine, and think my lot more fortunate 
 than I deserve !" 
 
 The insults to which Genevieve alluded, no less than her 
 strong hope of a speedy reverse of fortune, had not pre- 
 pared Lillias to meet her cousin with her usual kindly and 
 generous feelings ; and she answered with a coldness that 
 contrasted strongly with the mournful sarcasm of Gene- 
 vieve's voice : 
 
 " It appears, indeed, to me, that if you, Genevieve, are 
 so fully sensible of tlie superiority of your fortunes, you 
 must be also aware, how unnecessary it is to force the con- 
 sideration on my notice ; though, indeed, I can truly say, 
 that I am incapable of a vulgar envy ; while, at the same
 
 1IL1IA8 DAVENANT. 181 
 
 time, I am conscious tkat tlie gifts of wealtli siorpass all 
 others in the estimation of the wprld." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Genevieve, in a despairing and bitter 
 tone, "oil! that you knew then* worth; that you knew 
 what it is to be' the victim of this hateful weidth. Oh! 
 Ldlias, dear cousin," she continued, her voice changing from 
 its unwonted sounds of sarcasm, and tears sti'eaming down 
 her face, " oh ! LUlias, dearest Lillias, the miseries of 
 poverty are nothing to those whicli I endure." 
 
 " And may I ask," said Lillias, ahnost resolving to 
 bestow on her cousin a confidence, which she thought 
 would at once dispel her sorrows : " may I ask why you, 
 are so unhappy ? Oh, Greuevieve, the world has thought, 
 and I have thought too, that you can have no real cause 
 for grief." 
 
 " That I have no cause for grief?" saidG-enevieve, weeping, 
 " Ah, LiUias, because I am so cold and quiet, do not you, 
 like all the rest— like Lord Laugley himself— suppose that I 
 do not feel ! The very marriage with him, in which I am 
 supposed to be so fortunate, is the source of all that I 
 endure." 
 
 "Yet," said Lillias, with a sigh, " the world would say— 
 and I own again, that I should unite with it— Lord Langley 
 appears a person calculated to inspire far other feelings than 
 those of dislike." 
 
 " Ah, I do not dislike him, there might be hope in that," 
 said Genevieve : " but I am absolutely indifferent ,to liim : 
 he chills me with his cold and haughty manners: he thinks, 
 I know he does, that I am as much his inferior in mental 
 power as in worldly rank ; he doubts, I dare say, if the doll 
 has got a soul, and marries me as an act of the most excel- 
 lent condescension ; while I, Lillias— my feelings towards 
 him are strangely compounded of indifference and fear; 
 charming prospects these, LiUias, for a bridal ! But you, 
 how yoii look — cold and incredidous : oh, Lillias, do you 
 not pity me ; do you not believe how very, very wretched 
 lamr 
 
 " How can you expect me to look other than incredulous, 
 said Lillias, " when you give me half your confidence, and 
 ask for pity? Dear Genevieve, tmst in me, even as a sister; 
 you know not how much I may have it in my power to 
 alleviate your distress; neither attempt to deceive either 
 me or yourself; your indifference is not the resiilt of Lord 
 Langley's haughty mamiors— is it not rather a consequence 
 of your attachment to another?"
 
 182 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 At tliese words a mortal paleness suffused the features of 
 Genevieve, and laying her icy hand upon the arm of her 
 cousin, she said, " oh, Lillias, if you are acquainted with my 
 fatal secret, guard it as if on its preservation depended more 
 than mj^ life, and let me have your breast to weep upon 
 sometimes ; I think, if there is one person to whom I can 
 mention my miseiy, it will save me from going mad. And 
 do not despise, do not hate me, Lillias : oh, I own that it is 
 frightfid to wed Lord Langley, when it is his brother whom 
 of all men I most love." 
 
 " Be cahn, Genevieve, and hear me, I beseech you," said 
 LilUas : "let us hope that j'our future will be happier than 
 you imagine : what would you say, now, if under such a 
 seal of secrecy as .you have imposed on me, I were to tell 
 you, that Lord Langley is as ill disposed to this, marriage as 
 yourself; that he is greatly attached to another person; one 
 who has not yom* beaut^', my cousin, and whose atti'actions, 
 perhax)s, exist most in his fancy." 
 
 "Ah, Lillias," said Genevieve, "I have but Httle hope in 
 tliis : Lord Langley has been as httle consulted about our 
 marriage as myself : it is to the exigency of his father's cir- 
 cumstances that he yields, even as I am controlled by the 
 ill-judged affection of mine." 
 
 "Alas, my poor Genevieve," responded Lillias, "do not 
 call that affection in yom' father, T\'hich is the result only of 
 his selfishness ; it is hunself whom he seeks to aggrandize 
 in yom" marriage with Lord Langley ; and as I know, no 
 matter hoM', that this marriage will not take place, I recom- 
 mend you, Gene^'ieve, for once to summon the firmness 
 which a right intention cannot fad to bestow ; it may be 
 teiTible to encounter the violence of your father, but it is 
 vilely sinful for one moment to contemplate giving your 
 hand to Lord Langley, when your heart is devoted to his 
 brother." 
 
 " You wrong me, Lillias," answered Genevieve, turning 
 on her cousin a look of cold despair. " If I become the 
 wife of Lord Langley, as his wife will I discharge my 
 duty, or die ! But, oh ! you know not that violence of 
 my father which you so lightly bid me to brave. A\Tiat ! 
 teU my father I wdl not obey any behest of his ! I dare 
 not, Ldlias — I dare not ! It were easier to die than tempt 
 Ids anger ! " 
 
 As she spoke thus, the unfortimate Genevieve cast a 
 terrified look about the room, as if she apprehended lest 
 the very walls should convey to her t.>Tant father the 
 knowledge, that even in though tshe had swerved from his 
 mandates.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 183 
 
 "Alas!" exclaimed Lillias, talcing one of lier cousin's 
 icy hands in both her own, " what weakness, dearest Gene- 
 vieve, is this. The utmost cruelty of your father— what 
 can it effect? These are not the days when unprison- 
 ment or starvation can be made the lot of a refractory 
 daughter ; and if they were, Genevieve, no corporal suffer- 
 ing can match those torments of the soul which you are 
 stormg up for long years to come. But take at least this 
 consolation — Lord Langley is as ill disposed towards this 
 engagement as yourself; and, as a man, he is not, forgive 
 me for the expression, the victim of such piierile fears." 
 
 " Heaven grant that it may be so, Lillias," said Gene- 
 vieve ; "but oh! whatever happens, my dearest cousin, let 
 not my father know, I beseech you, how I have rebelled 
 against his will !" 
 
 The entrance of Lady Mdlman at this moment i^re- 
 cluded fvu"ther conversation betvreen the cousins, and Lillias 
 withdi-ew to her own apartment till the approach of the 
 dimier hoiu", for the tedium of waiting in the drawing-room 
 ■noukl, she knew, be more than usually imi)leasant to her 
 on the present occasion. 
 
 On descending to the drawing-room, just before dmner 
 was served, Lillias found assembled tliere the whole of the 
 Daylsford family, -^ith the exception of Edward and the earl 
 himself, who had sent the excuse of unavoidable business ; and 
 Lillias rightly judged that his absence was the cause of the 
 dark fro\^n which she observed lowering on the brow of her 
 uncle. The diunci', \^hich ■\\ as served ^ith great splendour, 
 ■was even more tedious than such dumers ixsuaUy are ; for the 
 countess preserved her usual icy and disdainful manners, 
 scarcely deigning to ved her contempt for the company in 
 which she foimd herself. Lord Langley was comijelled to 
 devote his attention to Genevieve, and it ^^■as only in then' 
 passage to the chning-room that Lady Emily founcl time to 
 press the hand of Lillias, and whisper a word of friendship in 
 her ear. Most happy, then, was Lilhas, when her aunt gave the 
 signal for the ladies to retire. Pecuhar and painful as was the 
 position of Lord Langley, he had scarce dared hazard even 
 a look towards Lilhas, -Hhen, as she followed the countess 
 and her aunt out of the room, a mal-iqyrojjos accident, or 
 rather the ever restless malice of Master Augustus, so much 
 disturbed the equanimity of Lord Langley, as to discover to 
 Sir Gabriel that real position of affairs which it v. as de- 
 sirable for some little time to conceal. 
 
 The mischievous vu'cliin Augustus, to whom Lillias was 
 a person pecidiarl^- obnoxious, was, when the dining-room
 
 184 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 door opened, playing in tlie liall, and stood with, gaping 
 mouth staring at the countess and Lady Emily, neither of 
 whom he had seen before ; then, when his cousin appeared, 
 he with great force thi'ew at her an apple which he had in 
 his hand, and which, striking her on the temple, stretched 
 her senseless on the floor. 
 
 Somewhat frightened at seeing her fall, the boy would 
 have rim away ; but his brother Frederick, who, as he was 
 standing near the door, had seen him throw the apple, 
 sprang forwards, and, seizing the delinquent, inflicted on 
 him the summary chastisement of a severe box on the ears, 
 while Lord Langley, raising Lillias from the ground, uttered 
 expressions which at once discovered his attachment to her, 
 and moro than indiSerence to her cousin.
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " As commonly men bear with a hard year, 
 I'm strongly ai-med to brook my overthrow !" 
 
 Duchess of Malfi. 
 
 "When Lillias recovered licr senses, slie foirnd lierself lying 
 on her bed with her arm bound, as if she had been bled, 
 and little Alice weeping beside her. As Lillias turned her 
 lieavy eyes on the countenance of her sister, the child 
 uttered an exclamation of joy : "Oh, dear Lillias, you know 
 me now, don't youP " she said. 
 
 The events of the evening now returned to the memory 
 of Lillias, and from her sister she learned that the night 
 was now advancing into morning ; that the whole house was 
 cognizant of Lord Langley's attachment to her : that there 
 had been a violent quarrel between him and Sir Gabriel, 
 who had also grossly insulted Lady Emily, when she had 
 proffered to attend upon Lillias ; that Genevieve had been 
 carried to her own room in fits ; and that it was only 
 through the determination of Frederick that a surgeon had 
 been sent for, who had bled LUHas, and desired that she 
 should be kept quiet. 
 
 "But, oh, my darling sister," said Alice, "I am sure 
 you cannot be qmet in this house, and I should say go away 
 directly, but it is too late : but we'U go directly it is light, 
 dear, for here is a letter from that nasty wicked old uncle, 
 teUing us that we are to go directly; and, oh, he said 
 such things to me, and shut me in here with you, and said 
 that not a servant in his house should attend upon you. 
 Oh, he is a nasty, ugly, wicked old man, Lillias. There 
 isn't anybody in the house I Hke, except poor Frederick, 
 and he has been sitting with me till you seemed to sleep 
 quiet, and he says he will do what he can for us ! But let 
 me bring you the light close, LiUias dear, and see what this 
 wicked old uncle says." 
 
 With difficulty it was that Lillias raised her achmg head 
 from the pillow, to read a brief but bitter effusion of her 
 uncle's malice. The attachment between her and Lord 
 Langley was mentioned in terms the most insidting : and 
 while Sir Gabriel assured her that it was his daughter who
 
 1S6 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 sliould jet he Countess of Daylsforcl, lie lauded liis o\ra 
 liumanitj', which permitted the shelter of his roof, even for 
 another night, to the "artful pauper"— thus he styled 
 Lillias— " -nho -n^oidd have interfered with the happiness of 
 his darling Genevieve." The letter concluded with a strict 
 injunction to Lillias to depai't at the earliest hour m the 
 morning, as Sir Gahriel knew not, he said, to wliat excess 
 his just parental indignation might provoke him, should she 
 intrude herself ui^on him again. 
 
 Had not Lilhas been suffering even from bodily pain, 
 (•onse(iueut on the outi'ageous conduct of Augustus, she 
 would have treated her uncle's brutal letter with the con- 
 tem])t it deserved ; but her head throbbed, her s^jirits were 
 weakened, and her tears fell fast upon the paper. 
 
 "Do not cry, dear, darling Lilhas," said little Alice, 
 weeping herself; " let us go away from this wicked uncle's 
 house. I saw a bill up for lodgings to let at the house where 
 Mrs. Corbett lodges ; suppose we go there?" 
 
 "Yes. dearest, it is the best plan that coidd be thought 
 of," replied Lilhas. " I will not stay in this house an hoiu" 
 after daybreak." 
 
 It was with difficulty that LUlias coidd now persuade 
 her sister to undress and come to bed ; and ill as she felt 
 herself, no sooner had the child, who was fatigued ■\\'ith 
 M'atching dui'ing the earlier hom's of the night, fallen asleei), 
 than Lillias rose, and, despite the pain and stiffness of her 
 arm, commenced putting her clothes in order for removal. 
 The trinkets which had been given to her by her uncle she 
 sunply sealed up and directed to hmi. The insolence of his 
 note was too coarse for reply. 
 
 The plan proposed by Alice, of proceeding to the house 
 inhabited by the Corbetts, so soon as the morning had so 
 far advanced that they might procure a vehicle to convey 
 them there, appeared to Cilhas the best which, imder the 
 exigency of the moment, she could adopt. In the course of 
 tlie day she ]io]X'd to procure some lodging more eligible, 
 for Lillias would have been very sorry that Lady Emd.y, 
 and still more her brother, should find her dwelling, even 
 t^rnporarily, among i)eople so hiunble as the Corbetts. 
 Her own observation, not the remarks of Tracy— though 
 perhap.s his severity had quickened her apprehension — con- 
 vinced LiUias, that though her aristocratic lover had not 
 been prejudiced by her nari'ow circumstances, in the aspect 
 which she assunied in the pretty Derbyshire cottage, 
 he might very likely be repulsed by the coarseness of
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 187 
 
 poverty, as exliibited among the lower classes in London. 
 Alas, poor Lillias ! Low little coufideuce had she, after all, 
 in her lover ! 
 
 The late and cold dawn of the winter niornmg at last 
 began to peep into the chamber of Lillias, and found her, 
 by the light of her waning lamp, just finishing a letter to 
 Genevieve, which she had resolved to entrust, if she coidd 
 see him, to the footman, Thomas. She liad already written 
 to Lord Langle}^ and Lady Emily, telling them that she was 
 going for a few hours to the abode of an old servant of her 
 mother, and 'woiild transmit a notice when she had secured 
 a more permanent abode. 
 
 Lillias had just completed her preparations for departure, 
 when she was disturbed hy a gentle knock at her dooi-, and 
 on opening it she discovered her cousin Frederick. 
 
 The usually careless and jovial features of the young man 
 were impressed with an air of deep anxiety, and, from the 
 stjde of his dress, Lilhas apprehended that he had not been 
 in bed during the night. 
 
 '_' Now, don't scold, Lillias," said the young man ; " I am 
 quite sober ; and if I have sat up all )iight, I have been en- 
 gaged in a veiy dreary emplo:\anent ; for I have been look- 
 ing over accounts and papers — tiresome work enough, I 
 assure you." 
 
 As i rederick spoke, he entered the chamber, and, softly 
 closing the door, he cast his eyes upon the trunks, with the 
 cording ready laid upon the lids for use. 
 
 " My dear cousin," he then said, " I cannot blame you 
 that you are eager cxuickly to leave a house where you have 
 been treated so ill, or ask you to staj' longer than to take 
 some breakfast, which I have just had taken into the school- 
 room." 
 
 "Excuse me," replied Lillias; "I do not wish, dear 
 Frederick, to say anything unpleasant to you, ^\ho have 
 been so uniformly kind to Alice and myself ; but if you will 
 be at the trouble to read that letter, you will not, I think, 
 feel surprised that I should refuse to taste even a cup of 
 water in your father's house." 
 
 Frederick put the paper aside. " jSTay, dear LilHas," he 
 said, "I am too well acquainted with the nature of my 
 venerated father's epistolary talents, when he chooses to be 
 out of humour ; and I wont ask you e^en to take a cup of 
 chocolate ; but I hold myself ready to escort you and Alice 
 M'herever you have determined to go." 
 
 To this Uttle office of kindness on her cousin's part LiL-
 
 188 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 lias did not object ; but when lie would have forced a bank- 
 note for twenty pounds on her acceptance, she obstinately 
 refused it. 
 
 "JN^ow, dear Lillias," said Frederick, "I assure you that 
 this money is none of my temble old papa's : I won it at 
 cards. There, now, will not that content you?" 
 
 "]>fot at all," answered Ldhas : " besides, I assure you, 
 Frederick, that I am not in want of money." 
 
 "Oh, this is too bad!" cried Frederick: then, as little 
 Alice was now awake, he peeped between the bed-curtains 
 and offered the note to her. She, however, was as impene- 
 trable as her sister, and he was compelled, at last, to with- 
 draw, somewhat pacified by a promise from Lilhas, that 
 shoidd she be in want of money she would not fail to ajjply 
 to hun. Lillias gave the letter for Genevieve into his keep- 
 ing, and, telling him whither she was going, assured him 
 that she required no further trouble on his i>art. "\Mien, 
 however, Alice having risen, the two sisters descended to 
 the hall, they found a cab waiting, and Frederick in readi- 
 ness to accompany them to Mrs. Corbett's. Though she 
 had not mentioned her uneasiness either to Frederick or 
 her sister, LiUias was much annoyed at being compelled, 
 even for a few hours, to intrude upon Mrs. Corbett, dis- 
 tressed as she knew the poor woman to be by her daughter's 
 illness. The landlady, Mrs. HajTies, herself opened the 
 door on the arrival of the sisters, and came forward as Lil- 
 has stepped from the cab. The consternation and anxiety 
 apparent in the countenance of this worthy woman unme- 
 diately alarmed Lillias, too truly experienced as she was in 
 scenes of sickness and sorrow. It should have been ob- 
 served that, on the preceding evening, Corbett had sent a 
 letter to LiUias, stating that his daughter was worse ; which 
 letter had not been delivered to her, amidst the hurry and 
 confusion consequent on her own indisposition. 
 
 " Deary me, miss, you look 'most as bad as poor Lucy ! 
 what is the matter?" inquu-ed the landlady, showing LU- 
 lias into her own parlour, wliile the cabman placed the 
 tnmks in the passage, and Frederick went back to help 
 Alice out of the vehicle. 
 
 Being natui'ally unwilling to make her private affairs 
 known among strangers, LUlias contented herself with say- 
 ing, that the Ul conduct of one of her uncle's cliildi-en had 
 compelled her abruptlj' to leave his house, and that she had 
 purposed to spend a few hours with Mrs. Corbett, wliile 
 she sought for a lodging. 
 
 " Lors, miss," rcphod the landlady, " for the matter of
 
 LILIIAS DAVBNANT. 189 
 
 that, I have a room that -n-oiild be quite at your service, only 
 I doesn't think as it would be cjuite good enough for you 
 and the little lady ; but, at all events, you had better stay 
 down here, and let me get you a httle breakfast ; for them 
 poor folks upstairs is in a mortal deal of trouble, as, I sup- 
 pose you know ?" 
 
 "Indeed I do not," answered LilEas; "I expected to 
 hear from Mr. Corbett yesterday. I trust his daughter is 
 not worse?" 
 
 " Oh, but indeed she is, miss !" said the landlady ; " and 
 for certain he sent you a letter last night." 
 
 By this time, Frederick MilLnan, ha^'ing dismissed the 
 cab, had, along with i\Jice, followed LiUias into the parloiir : 
 and he now mentioned that he thought, amid the confusion 
 the night before, he had seen a letter for Lilhas thrown 
 upon the haU table, which he had since forgotten. 
 
 Meantime, the landlady, into whose hand Frederick had 
 slipped a sovereign, set about preparing breakfast, and LIl- 
 lias, ha^TJig taken off her bonnet and mantle, was gomg up- 
 stairs to see Mrs. Corbett, when the landlady, who had fol- 
 lowed her out of the parlour, suddenly laid hold of her arm, 
 exclaiming, " Lord a' mercy, miss, wheresomever clid you 
 get that great swelling and bruise on your forehead ?" 
 
 On Lillias telling how she had been struck by the boy 
 Augustus, Mrs. Haynes lifted up her hands, and said, 
 "Well, miss, I declares, in all my born days I never heard 
 of the like ! I am sure you are weU out of the way of such 
 a set of imps." 
 
 The landlady would, perhaps, have detained Lilhas while 
 she more fully expressed her very sincere anger at the treat- 
 ment which the latter had been subjected to: but at that 
 moment a double knock was heard at the door, and Corbett, 
 who was at home, came down stairs to open it, in hopes that 
 the visitant was the doctor : for, in the midst even of his 
 surprise at so unexpectedly seeing Lilhas, he told her that 
 Lucy was much worse. 
 
 The apphcant for admission, however, was none other 
 than Eustace Vere : he had called to inquu-e as to the con- 
 dition of Lucy, and was only too happy to accept the invi- 
 tation of Mrs. Haj-nes to walk into the parlour, when he 
 found that Lilhas" Davenant was its occupant. Corbett, 
 speaking of the moiirnfid state of his daughter, followed 
 Lillias and Eustace into the parlour. Frederick MiUman 
 was seated by the side of the fire, with Ahce, whom he was 
 endeavouring to talk into good spirits ; for the Tn-atching of 
 the night, and the manner in which her sister and herself
 
 190 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 seemed to he made tlie sport of Fortune, sensibly affected 
 the child, who, sadly for herself, had been endowed by sor- 
 row ^^•ilh i)owcrs of reflection not usual at her years. 
 
 Fred.erick's head was tui'ued towards the child at the 
 moment that Corbett entered the room ; Mrs. HajTies was 
 just placing- some coiFee-cups on the table. 
 
 "Lors, Mr. Corbett, how ill you look !" said the woman; 
 "and your wife tells me that not a bit of anything do you eat ;' 
 that sort of thing wont do for you, my poor man !" 
 
 " Take some coiFee, Mr Corbett," said Lilhas, pouring it 
 out. At that moment Frederick Millman looked up : and 
 his eyes met those of the mechanic ; a darker exj)ressiou 
 crossed the countenance of the latter. 
 
 " It is no use j^our coming here, sir," he said, with a bitter 
 accent ; " the poor girl is not a mind to hear your fine 
 speeches, or be led away from her duty by any rich gentle- 
 man, who makes his sport of ruining a poor family's peace." 
 
 Frederick Millman rose — the usual kindly expression of 
 . his face changing to a look as ominous and threatening as 
 that worn by Corbett himself. 
 
 " Mr. Corbett," he said, '_' if that be yoiu' name, I am 
 sorry to be comi^elled to remind you that, in consideration 
 of the exasperated state of your feehngs, I once before tole- 
 rated from you an insult of the grossest kind ; you maj^ 
 however, ijush my endui'ance too far ; we stand now on 
 equal groimd ; I do not feel myself called upon again to 
 bear with your rudeness, and should be son-y to be com- 
 pcUcd to condemn myself for the patience which I exhibited 
 on that former occasion." 
 
 "Talk of patience!" cried Corbett: "oh, I have need 
 to do that ! a poor working man ! — God knows how hard I 
 work! — how I worked to put my poor girl in a way of 
 earning a little decent bread ; and she might have earned 
 her bread quietly, if such gentry as you would let poor folks 
 be qiiiet u]>on any terms. But you must dangle after her, 
 and fill her poor bead with all kind of nonsense ; and even 
 after tlie rout -we liad in the streets, when, to say tlie truth.you 
 did not behave ill, still I find that she is keei^ing the fmo 
 chain you gave her, and the bad thouglits you put in her 
 liead remain with, and have preyed ui)on her, till they have 
 thro^'^ n her into a fever — and now she is dying, sir ! — dying ! 
 do yovi hear that 1^" 
 
 " As Heaven is my judge, sir!" cried Frederick, earnestly, 
 " if this be the condition of your daughter, I am guiltless 
 of it. You know that 1 told you, on oiu- former meeting, 
 that she rejected my presents — that she properly reproved 
 my idle follj^ for it was, indeed, no more."
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT, 191 
 
 "Tlie gentleman v.-\\o would praciise suck folly cannot be 
 very scmpulous llo^A' i'ar lie keeps to the truth," said Gor- 
 bett, sidlenl}'. 
 
 " Do you mean, sir, to say, that I condescend to speak 
 falsely ?" demanded Fredei'ick. 
 
 Lilhas put out her hand. " Mr. Corbctt," she said, " this 
 is my cousm !" 
 
 " Eustace iilso interposed. " Corbett," he exclaimed, "you 
 forget yourself; I have known Mr. Milhnau siuce we were 
 both children, and I know him to be incai)able of a false- 
 hood." 
 
 Frederick warmly grasped the hand of Eustace Vere. 
 
 " My dear friend I" he said, in a low tone ; "may I be my 
 father's son, and call you so P" 
 
 "Do you think me, then, as unjust as Mr. Corbett?" 
 responded Eustace ; " T^■hy shoidd I implicate you in yom* 
 father's errors or mistakes ?" 
 
 Mrs. Haj-nes, who had moi'c than once endeavoured to 
 interrupt Corbett, now thrust herself forwards : 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Corbett," she said, " I am the last iserson as 
 would add to your troubles, or make mischief bet'^een man 
 and -nife ; but I must say that Mrs. Corbett is the onlj' person 
 to blame in this business. I can tell you as she has been talk- 
 ing -sAith me about getting a gentleman to man-y her daugh- 
 ter ; and it is she that has kept the gold chain, to show ofl', 
 and make Tom Horton jealous, and keep Lucy without a 
 husband altogether, if she would not have a gentleman ; 
 and I should by no means have told you this, Mr. Corbett, 
 but I don't think as it would be right to let you stand here, 
 rating anybody for the faults of your own ■«'ife." 
 
 " I did not know this," said Corbett, with an abashed air : 
 " I must talk to Mary. The Lord knows, I never wished 
 anything about om* poor girl except that she shoidd work 
 honestly for her bread ; and if slie married at all, take a 
 Ijlain, worthy man m her own class of life. If I liave wronged 
 this gentleman, I can but ask his pardon." 
 
 The placable Frederick willingly accepted Corbett's apo- 
 logy; but the latter, upon whose mmd the speech of Mrs. 
 Haynes had thrown a new light as to the cause of Lucy's 
 illness, was not sorry that the expected visit of the medical 
 man gave him an opportunity of innnediiatcly withdrawing 
 from the presence of a person, wliom he now shrewdly sus- 
 pected had been much wronged by the grossness of his own 
 conduct.
 
 192 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " Where the young violet grows, 
 Mixed witli the pale primrose ; 
 AVhere the dsn-k yew-trees spread, 
 Make thou mine early bed. 
 Let the green turf lie gently on my breast. 
 And summer song-birds carol me to rest." 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 A WEEK after lier removal from the liouse of her UBcle 
 found LiUias, with her sister, hving with Mrs. Vere in the 
 pretty fui-nished cottage which Eustace had hired at Hamp- 
 stead. 
 
 Though situated at the extremity of the Heath, and rather 
 lonely in its situation, nothing could have been prettier or 
 more rural than this cottage. Prom the back window was 
 seen London, sleeping like a giant in the distance ; from the 
 front the eye swept over the far more inviting prospect of 
 the wide extended coimtry. A well laid-oiit, and, for the 
 size of the cottage, a tolerably large garden sui'rounded it, 
 and the white waUs gleamed in the thin air thi-ough the 
 thickets of laurel, laurestinus and arbutus, while up the front 
 of the house crept one of those hardy climbing roses, which 
 so cheerfuJl}^ mix their pale and fragile blossoms with the 
 rich berries of the hoUy at Christmas. Alike welcome to 
 Lillias and to Mrs. Vere was this retreat, for ahke had they 
 been harassed by the long pressure of pecuniary distress. 
 
 So soon as Mrs. Vere learned that Lillias had finally 
 quitted the home of her uncle, she had begged that, with 
 her sister, she would accompany her to the cottage of which 
 she was to take possession the next day. 
 
 The fever wliich had attacked Lucy Corbett was at its 
 height on the day when Lilhas left the house of her uncle ; 
 but though the crisis proved favourable, she remained 
 extremely weak and low, and the mecUcal attendant more 
 tlian hinted his fears tliat lier frame, natnraUy dcUcateJ 
 had received a shock from wliich it would harcUy recover; 
 Alas, it was tlie anxieties wliich liad caused that violent 
 attack which had sapped the constitution of Lucy ; the 
 unremitting toil at the milliner's, the gulf which seemed to
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 193 
 
 separate lier from her early lover, the turmoil of her home, 
 the dreary prospect for her futiu'e life, these were the real 
 causes ot her ilhiess ; and these same causes still preyed 
 upon her spii'it, even when the violence of her fever was 
 past. What could medicine effect in such a case? *'it could 
 not minister to the mind diseased." 
 
 For a day and a uiglit Lillias was an inhabitant of the 
 same liouse witli Luvy Corbett, and during that space of 
 time, the compassionate landlacly, Mrs. HajTies, did not 
 fail to make her acquainted with the iJarticulars of the 
 poor girl's stoiy. Thus it was -with some disgust at the 
 selfishness of the mother, and a feeling of pity for the poor 
 gixl who seemed to be her victim, that Xiilias quitted the 
 house. Hers had been a family of love. The great trouble 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Davenant had been the privations they 
 had been compelled to see their chilcben suffer ; and it had 
 never been a part of their plans to deny their daughters that 
 sweet solace of domestic ties in which they had found so 
 much happiness themselves. The conduct, therefore, of 
 the Corbetts— for the man was less innocent, with regard 
 to Lucy, than he affected to be — appeared to Lillias more 
 perversely cruel than an;\i:hing she could have imagined ; 
 and when she took leave of the unfortunate Lucy, and 
 marked her faint pulse, her paUid cheek, and sunken ej-es, 
 she wept tenderly for sorrows not her o^^•n. Alas ! poor 
 Lilhas — how blight did slie at that moment think her 
 own prospects ! 
 
 In the respectful kindness of Eustace Vere she saw only 
 the attachment of a generous brother ; in his mother she 
 seemed to repaii- the loss of her own ; for even with a 
 mother's tenderness chd Mrs. Vere fold the orphan sisters 
 to her breast. On the second daj-, too, of her residuig at 
 Hampstead with Mrs. Vere, she was surprised by a visit 
 from Lady Emily, who brought with her Lady Camilla, 
 her aimt, the most I'efijied and amiable of maiden laches, 
 whose single foible seemed to consist in her bitter aversion 
 to the family of Sir Gabriel Millman. DaUy, too, did Lord 
 Langley visit the cottage ; and, on his arrival, Mrs. Vere 
 always wanted Alice to read or work in her room, and 
 Eustace either had business to attend to, or, despite the 
 coldness of the weather, woidd take long and sohtary 
 walks. 
 
 , More than once Lilhas imagined that she detected an 
 expression of sadness on the face of Eustace Vere, stronger 
 than she could have supposed would be occasioned to a 
 person of his mind by any trivial cause. She knew, 
 
 o
 
 194 LIILIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 indeed, Iiow deepl3'^ the Veres had been wronged by her 
 uncle, and that, defying the decision given against him in 
 the Court of King's Bench, Sii* Gabriel had carried the 
 cause into Chaucerj-. But upon this siibjcct Eustace always 
 spoke "with courage ; and -when Lillias, upon whom tlae 
 generosity of Lady Camilla had forced sufficient fimds, i)ro- 
 posed to make an arrangement ^ith ]\irs. Vere for the 
 board and lodging of herself and Alice, that lady begged 
 her, as she valued her aflectiou, never to name such a 
 matter again. " It has pleased Heaven, my dear child," she 
 said, "to raise up for me and Eustace a ft'iend ui our 
 utmost need ; and even if the Chanceiy court should 
 reverse the decree already pronounced we should not be 
 qmte desolate. Do not, therefore, pain me by again revert- 
 ng to the very sUght expense which j'ou and Alice may 
 create in oui' little household. Eustace is the best of sons, 
 but I cannot part with my daughters." 
 
 On all other occasions, as on this, did the amiable Mrs. 
 Yere speak and act as if Lillias and Alice were indeed her 
 children. 
 
 Meantime, the preparations for the marriage of Lillias 
 and Lord Langley progressed ; and it seemed to her that 
 the melancholy of Eustace Vere increased; so much so 
 indeed, that, in her sisterly anxiety, she named it to Ids 
 mother. 
 
 " My poor boy !" sighed Mrs. Vere. " He is, indeed, 
 ■ very unhappy ; but he has not the mind to yield to an im- 
 avoidable evil. I must trust that so good a son will not, 
 in the justice of Heaven, be shut out from the best enjoy- 
 ments of life." 
 
 Mrs. Vere ceased speaking, and, after a mmute's silence, 
 abrui^tly turned the conversation to an indifferent subject ; 
 while Ldlias, apprehending from ■\^ hat she had said, that 
 Eustace was probably the victim of some unrequited 
 attachment, henceforward redovibled to^vards him her 
 eisterly attentions. 
 
 Her cousin Frederick visited Lillias at the abode of Mrs. 
 Vere. From him she learned, what the delicacy of Lord 
 Langley and his sister forbade them to mention, namel3', 
 that a violent quan-el had occurred between Sir Gabriel 
 and the Earl of Daylsford, that the countess was confined 
 to her bed, the earl absent in the comitry ; and Genevieve 
 rejoicing in ihe i-upture wliich had taken place, since, though 
 the offer of Edv^•ard Langley's hand had been contemp- 
 tuously rejected by Sir Gabriel, Genevieve was not without
 
 LILLIA8 DAVENANT. 195 
 
 a hope that his determination \n ith regard to that proposal 
 would change. 
 
 Of the general state of his father's affairs Frederick spoke 
 despondingly. lie expressed a profound disgust at the 
 malice witliwliicli Sir Gabriel still pursued Eustace Vere ; 
 and declared his own intention of entering into some kind 
 of busmcss, independent of his father. LiUias was sur- 
 prised at the cool and resolved air with which this young 
 man, wliom she had hitherto thought so gay and frivolous, 
 spoke of entering on a mode of life which she woidd have 
 supposed must be to him so impleasant ; and, partly in 
 words, but more perhaps by looks, she expressed this 
 surprise. 
 
 " Ah ! Liliias," said Frederick, " you are like aU the rest. 
 I have hitherto played so idle and useless a part that you 
 cannot believe me capable of steady exertion ; bu.t do not 
 mistake me— it is not the drudgery of the city that I mean 
 to attempt. The insight I have lately obtained into my 
 father's business sufficiently assures me that his ways 
 cannot be my ways ; and my good mother, for she is a 
 good mother, "in spite of her foolish spoiling of Augustus, 
 gives up that portion of her fottune ^^ hich is settled on 
 herself, to enable me to purchase a farm. I assiu'e you, I 
 shall like the life of a f;n*mer very well." 
 
 Such surprise as Liliias woidd have natui'aUy expressedat 
 this resolution, so extraordinary in the son of the mUhonaire 
 Sir Gabriel MUhnan, was checked by the entrance of Mrs. 
 Vere's servant with a letter, regarding which, she said, the 
 messenger Avaited for an ans\\'er. To her gi-eat concern, she 
 foimd that tliis missive came from Mrs. Corbett, and con- 
 tained the distressing intelligence that Lucy \Aas again much 
 worse— that, indeed, the medical man had declared it un- 
 likely that she woidd Hve tlu'ough the night, but that she 
 had expressed a strong wish to see LiUias, who Mrs. Cor- 
 bett begged would come immediately. 
 
 Distressing as was the scene which she was likely to 
 encounter, Liliias had not the heart to refuse the dying 
 gild's request ; and having made known to Mrs. Vere the 
 errand of charity on which she was bound, she prepared to 
 go immediately to towni. Frederick offered to escort her, 
 saying, at the same time, that he would leave her at the 
 door. " For possibly," he said, "it may be unpleasant to 
 these poor people to see me, whom they know only in a 
 manner which;, I confess to my shame, is but little to my 
 credit." 
 
 2
 
 196 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 The evening was cliill and damp, and Lillias, as slie 
 •n-alked with lier cousin townrds the spot froni which the 
 omuibnses started, was fain to draw her large mantle closely 
 round her. 
 
 On then- way across the heath they encountered Eustace 
 Vere, retui-ning from one of his soUtary rambles. His 
 clothes were wet with the raw drizzling rain, and as the 
 wind blew his thick black hair from his brow, as he paused 
 to speak to Lillias, she was shocked by the wild and haggard 
 expression of his countenance; while ^^rederickexclauned, — 
 " Good heaven ! my dear Eustace ; ■what is the matter ? I 
 tnist that you do not suffer the vexatious conduct of my 
 father to weigh on your spirits and injure your health. I 
 never saw you look so ill. Do make has\e home. The 
 fireside is the only fit ]dace for you, I am sure." 
 
 "Do go home, my dear friend," said Lillias. "You do 
 look veiy ill ; and I am siu'e your mother wants .your com- 
 pany, for she has been -nearj-ing herself all day on my 
 account." 
 
 A kind of spasm crossed the features of Eustace as LiUias 
 made this I'emark, discoverable even in the waning hght 
 of the -niuter sky. An ap])rehension, hitherto unknown, 
 fastened on the heart of Ldlias as she observed it ; for she 
 knew tliat he ^nas aware that his mother was emploj'ed in 
 helping her pi*epare her bridal attire. There never was a 
 woman more destitute of vanity than LiUias, yet her heart 
 ached at the bare thought that she was an object of inte- 
 rest to Eustace. 
 
 "Indeed, A^ere, if you don't get a Uttle more colour in 
 your face," said Frederick, " I must leave Lillias to find 
 her own way to the omnibus, and see you home myself." 
 
 " It is nothing, Fred — I am better now," answered 
 Eustace ; tlien, after charging Lilhas with his condolence to 
 the unfortunate Corbetts, he iDursued his way. 
 
 Mrs. IIa3'nes opened the door to Ldhas — the good woman 
 was in tears. "Oh, miss, it will soon be over," she said: 
 " and that wicked woman, that bad mother — oh, this is a ter- 
 rible judgment on her; she has told the truth now, when 
 it is too late : for what's the use of her crying and moaning 
 over the poor girl, no'W' that she has broken her heart ? what's 
 the use of telling her noA^', that she has sent to Tom Horton ? 
 Oh, the thing has gone a deal too far ; the poor girl has 
 fretted and fretted till at last she's broke up altogether ! And 
 oh, what a miserable house it is now, and what a misery it 
 is to see that poor little Harriet. I verdy believe the dear 
 chUd will pine to death after her sister; and then, you
 
 IIIIIAS DAVENANT. 197 
 
 know, miss, tliat sickness and death is a deal worse among 
 poor folks tlian rich ones. Money is a sweet comfort in a 
 bitter sorrow ; thougli, indeed, I maj- say as all this soitow is 
 caused by want of money ; for all poor ]VIrs. Corbett's beha- 
 viour to her daughter, God forgive her for it, has been because 
 she wanted the i^oor thing's money." 
 
 Tlie kindheartcd Frederick had, in i)artiug with Lillias, 
 given her a ten pound note, to be used at her discretion for 
 the assistance of the Corbetts ; and perceiving how sincere 
 an interest the worthy landlady took in her lodgers, she men- 
 tioned this benefaction. " Heaven bless you, miss, and that 
 kind-hearted gentleman," said Mrs. Haynes : " I know what 
 a load a little money at this timewould take off Mrs. Corbett's 
 mind ; for, poor creature, she is a worrj-iug herself about the 
 doctor's bill, and how she is to get the poor girl laid decently 
 in her grave— for youknow it is a large family, and the father's 
 wages does but just keep them. Oh dear ! oh dear ! it is bad 
 enough to have sickness in the house, let alone death, without 
 being obhged to dry up one's tears with thinking about that 
 nasty money, and how to get enough of that. Oh, dear miss, 
 the rich, who has no feehng for the poor, has a deal to 
 answer for ; and I saj^ as the rich hasn't no trouble that I see, 
 cause if they are ill even nioney is a great comfort." 
 
 Lilhas sadly assented to these remarks ; she knew, unhaiJ- 
 pUy too well, how jjoverty woidd sharpen even the sting of 
 death. Mrs. Ha^mes informed her that Mrs. Corbett was 
 alone with her daughter, and that Tom Horton, to whom 
 Mrs. Corbett had now acknowledged the truth, was momen- 
 tarily expected. 
 
 " But if Lucy has not yet seen the 5^oung man, maj^ not 
 the shock of an interview with him be dangerous in her 
 present condition?" inquired Lillias. 
 
 " Oh dear no, miss," answered the landlady ; "she is past 
 that now ; her danger cannot be greater, and the doctor says 
 an5i;hing ma^v be done to give the poor thing a quiet end." 
 
 The tears of the good woman flowed fast as she said this : 
 for she was sincerely attached to poor Lucy. " "\i\Tiat a hard 
 thing it is too, miss, " she said, as she ushered LUlias uj) stairs, 
 " that the poor man, Corbett, cannot get a daj^ from his Avork ;
 
 198 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 there's Ms daiicrlitcr dying, and yet he must work — work as 
 if nothing was the matter ; the poor mustn't have tune for 
 their troubles." 
 
 On entering the sitting-room of the Corbetts, the presence 
 of sickness and sorrow m the family was painfully visible to 
 Ldhas, even in the demeanour of the children. Little Har- 
 riet, seated on a stool, endeavoirred in a low voice to sing the 
 baby to sleep, frctfid and queralous at the absence of its mo- 
 ther, whose time was a.lmost v>holly occupied near her sick 
 child. The Httle boys played quietly at the end of the room ; 
 or, if they spoke in a louder voice, or ran or jumped, were 
 rebuked by HaiTiet, in a voice choked by her tears. 
 
 The landlady having informed Mrs. Corbett that LiUiaa 
 had an*ived, the poor woman came to conduct her into the 
 sick room. LiUias was shocked at the alteration which grief 
 and watching had made in her appearance : her naturally 
 florid complexion had faded to a saUow tint— her eyes were 
 smik, her voice hollow and broken. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Corbett," said LiUias, "you give way too 
 much ; the medical men are often deceived — there may yet 
 be hope." 
 
 "None, Miss Davenaut, none!" said the heart-stricken 
 mother. " I have not seen death so often to mistake it now ; 
 I see it in my poor girl's face : she'U not last long ; no, I 
 don't beheve she'U get through the night : and oh, -what a 
 wretch am I. It is my fault — mine ; I have killed her — I have 
 kUlcd her. Oh that I could bring back the past ; oh that I 
 coidd see her weU, and married to Tom Horton to-moiTow. 
 Oh, '^^ hat wiU become of me ! I shaU never hold up mj^ head 
 
 agam 
 
 "Deary me, Mrs. Corbett," said the landladj', "do not 
 take on in tliis way ; what's done is done, and can't be un- 
 done ; and it is to be lioped that you did aU for the best : 
 perhaps it was natural that you shoidd like Lucy to see 
 a Uttle more of Ufe before she got married, and think she 
 might do better than settle do'wu to many Tom Horton ; in 
 coiirse, many a mother besides you has made a mistake 
 like this : and you were not for to know how the poor girl
 
 LILLIAS DAVE:tTANT. 199 
 
 would take ilie tlisappoiutmeut to heart, or malce up your 
 mind that that alone has caused her illness, and go on caUing 
 yourself all sorts of names, and make yom'self ill too, to the 
 detriment of all your other children." 
 
 The homely consolation of her landlady had little effect on 
 the self-accusing mother, who, rocking herself backwards 
 and forwards, sti-uck lier breast with her clenched hand, 
 and uttered moans of intense anguish, while not a tear 
 moistened her hoUow, blood-shot eyes. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Corbett," said LUlias, " this grief at the pre- 
 sent time is, indeed, worse than useless ; it keeps you away 
 from your poor daughter, too. Come : shall I not see her ?" 
 
 " Heaven help me, dear young lady, I am almost crazed," 
 replied the poor woman : " I am a waiting here, and she told 
 me to bring you directly." 
 
 UnhappUy for LiUias, she too, as well as the desolate 
 mother, was acquainted with the sjani)toms of the near ap- 
 proach of that destroj-er who had already set his seal on the 
 wasted and delicate featau'es of Lucy Corbett. Though fast 
 dying, inteUigence and speech yet remained to the young girl ; 
 a smile, faint and mournful as a winter sunbeam on a waste 
 of snow, played over her featvu'es, as LUlias entered, and she 
 beckoned for her to approach the bed. The neatness of Mrs. 
 Corbett'a domestic habits was visible in the sick chamber of 
 her child : the drawers and little cbessing table were spread 
 with covers as white as snow, and the blonde hair and pallid 
 features of Lucj- were scarcely distinguishable from the spot- 
 less sheets and draperies of her bed. 
 
 "Dear Miss Davenant," she said, tm'ning her mUd blue 
 eyes on LiUias, " I thank you so much that joxi have come ; 
 you will forgive me paining you by bringing you into such 
 a scene ; but I thought that you, of aU persons, would be most 
 likely to comfort my poor mother. Oh, INIiss Davenant, it 
 is like a penknife in my heart to hear her say that she is 
 the cause of my illness. Pi'omise me, dear Miss Davenant, 
 that you wUl reason her out of this cruel thought ; that you 
 wiU always remind her that if I had not been weak, and vain, 
 and foolish, I should not have encouraged the attentions of
 
 200 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 My. ]\Iilliiian ; and should have been contented to wait for 
 some years before I tbought of being married to Tom 
 Horton." 
 
 " All ! my poor child, my dear child — killed by yom- ctucI 
 mother ; do not talk in this way — there has been no fault in 
 you," cried Mrs. Corbett, faUiug on her knees beside her 
 daughter's bed, and seizing her hand, T\iiich she covered with 
 IJassionate kit^ses. 
 
 " Yes, I must, mother, and you must hear'me," said Lucy. 
 " I have been weak and selfish : the fault was not all j'oui's ; 
 if you liad no right to expect me to remain single all my life to 
 help keep my brothers and sisters, I had no right to think that 
 the moment I coidd earn a little money I had a right to 
 many, and keep it to myself, after all that my father had 
 spent on me. Oh, this sick bed, this death-bed, has been a 
 great teacher. It does not need, perhaps, that to you. Miss 
 Davenant, I should say such a thing ; but if ever the time 
 shoidd come, as it does sometimes to the best of us — the time 
 when you feel angry to look at what may seem to you a 
 sacrifice to others, — think of me, dear Miss Davenant — think 
 of me. Oh ! it was ^^icked to grudge my little help to my 
 parents, even for a few years." 
 
 " Lucy, Lucy," sobbed the miserable mother, " do not 
 talk so ; it is I that have been wicked and selfish." 
 
 " My poor mother, do not cry so," saidLucy, " but leaveme, 
 leave me for a little time with Miss Davenant, and when 
 Tom comes let me know." 
 
 ]\Irs. Corbett withdrew, for she was fain to avail herself 
 for a few minutes of the opportunity to indidge the bitterness 
 of her gi'ief unobserved bj- Lucy, whose sufferings she felt 
 were increased by it. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Davenant, it is so," said the dying girl, in a 
 fainter accent, when lier mother liad retired ; " I am the vic- 
 tim of my selfishness and foUy ; I thought it would be a 
 relief to my poor heart to have confidence in some one be 
 fore I died ; and that you, who are so generous, and so good, 
 woidd pity me, and comfort my poor mother, after I have 
 told you that I am aware that it is my thinking of nothing 
 but my own selfish sorrows, that preyed upon my mind, and
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 201 
 
 made me feel ill for weeks, till I was attacked by that ter- 
 rible fever. See now, tbings might have been different if I 
 bad been candid and kiud : if I bad said to my mother, I will 
 work for you so many years, and at the end of that time 
 you will be able to do without me, and I shall many Hor- 
 ton, there would have been no need then for my mother 
 to have kept us apart. Oh ! I see that most of mj- suffer- 
 ings spring from my own selfishness ; never, never, dear 
 Miss Davenant, may you have to reproach yom-self as 
 I do." 
 
 Exhausted by her long speaking, the voice of Lucy became 
 more feeble as she proceeded, and simk with the last words 
 into a faint wailing accent, and she sank back upon her 
 pUlow -n-ith her ej'es closed. 
 
 Why cbd LiUias feel as if her own heart was stricken, 
 when the j'oung gii-l accused herself as the cause of her own 
 early death ? Was it that the words of Lucy forced into 
 actual consciousness that vague, indefinite apprehension 
 which had within the last week crossed her mind as to her 
 own engagement with Lord Langley — that engagement 
 which Tracy, her best friend, so bitterly condemned, and 
 which she could not think that either the Earl or Countess 
 of Daylsford approved. Was she selfish no less than Lucy 
 Corbett ; and was the pimishment of her selfishness looming 
 in the uncertain futiu-e ? 
 
 From this imeasy speculation Lillias was recalled by the 
 voice of Lucy Corbett. 
 
 "Dear Miss Davenant," she said, "will you open the 
 top drawer, and bring me the little morocco bos which you 
 •ndll see there." 
 
 Lillias did as she was requested, and the young girl took 
 from the box a simi^le shell, and a httle knot of violets, tied 
 with a blue ribbon, as faded as the flowers. 
 
 " Tom gave me this sheU when he first went to sea, Miss 
 Davenant ; and these violets he bought for me the day that 
 we parted, before his last voyage. I shall keep them by 
 me now ; and wUl you say, Miss Davenant, that they must 
 put them in my coflSn. I did not like to tell poor mother 
 this myself."
 
 202 
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Tlie tears of Lillias fell fast as slie gave the required 
 promise, tkeu Lucy continued, — 
 
 "And I should like— oh, so much, Miss Darenant, to be 
 buried far away m the country, among the green fields. 
 It was in the country I first knew Tom ; and the sun shiaes 
 so sweetly there; and the flowers bloom in the pretty 
 chiu-chyards ; and the dear little redbreast hops over the 
 gi-aves. It does not seem hke dying to be buried there ; 
 but I do not like to tell my father or mother this, because 
 I know my illness has cost a great deal of money, and, poor 
 things, they will not perhaps be able to carry me from 
 London ; and I shoidd not like Tom to be at any expense." 
 
 In a broken voice LiUias assured the poor girl that she 
 had it in her o-^-n power to accomplish this sad act of 
 friendship. A smile broke over the wan features of Lucy. 
 
 " Oh! dear Miss Daveuant, how I thank you," she said; 
 " it does indeed seem hke dying to be buried in a dismal 
 London chui'chj^ard." Then she closed her eyes, and seemed 
 to sleep, but with the smile still hovering on her pale lips. 
 
 Presently Mrs, Corbett entered -nith a whispered inti- 
 mation, that Tom Horton had arrived, and that she had 
 sent for her husband. Lucy looked up, and eagerly stretched 
 out her hands, but seemed incapable of speech. "\ATien Tom 
 entered, however, and knelt down by the side of the bed, 
 weeping, she wliispcred faintlj-, — 
 
 "You thmk me true, do you not, Tom? Dear Tom, 
 I never loved but you." 
 
 " My precious angel," cried Hoi-ton, " the fault has all 
 been mine; I was jealous, violent, impatient. Oh! my 
 sweet Lucy, forgive me ; look up and hve ; and we shall 
 be so happy." 
 
 " Ah, love, it is too late. Oh that I could live ! oh 
 that I could live ! but it is too late— too late ; and the health 
 and youth I have cast from me wiU not be restored. Oh ! 
 it is indeed too late." 
 
 As the unfortTinate Lucy spoke thus, that low wail— the 
 imion seemmgly of bodily and mental pain— gave a mourn- 
 ful cadence to lier words ; tlien she said, ahnost in a whisper,
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 203 
 
 " Hold me in your arms, Tom ; there— my lieacl against your 
 lioncst heart." 
 
 The bitter sobs of Mrs. Corbett smote the ear of the 
 d^iiig girl, and, i^artly raisiug herself from her lover's 
 breast, she stretched out her haud, aud exclaimed '' Oh ! 
 poor mother!" then, as she simk back, au awfid repose — 
 mingled, however, with au expression of deep sorrow — 
 settled on her face. 
 
 Lillias perceived at a glance that all was over. 
 
 Corbett entered the room only at that moment ; the ne- 
 cessity of pro-sdding bread for those who remained had 
 robbed hmi of the poor consolation of receiving the last 
 breath of his ill-fated child.
 
 204 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 THRorcnorT the -wliole of that night, and the dismal day 
 that succeeded it, did Lillias remain with the afflicted mo- 
 ther, not attempting consolation that she knew could be 
 but to irritate a wound wliieh time alone eoidd heal, but 
 furnishing the poor woman with the only rehef she could 
 at that moment experience — that of quietly indulging the 
 excess of her grief. 
 
 A real blessing was the presence of Lillias to Mrs. Cor- 
 bett on that day ; she nursed the baby, dressed the children, 
 helped Mrs. Haj-nes prepare the meals, and, to divert the 
 mind of the Httle Harriet, whose childish agony was painful 
 to \\itncss, took her out in the afternoon. 
 
 Early in the morning Eustace Vere had called on the 
 Corbctts, and as Mrs. Haynes had told Lillias she woidd 
 accommodate her with a bed, she had said it was probable 
 she should not return to Hampstead till the following day. 
 In the course of their interview, Eustace informed her that 
 business over -nhich he had no control \AOuld require him 
 to leave town, and that it was i^ossible he might be detained 
 SO long as a fortnight. " So, dear Lillias," said he, " jou 
 will imderstand, that for that time I commit my mother to 
 your charge." 
 
 " And I will be a good daughter," rephed Lillias; "but, 
 dear friend, I nmst really hope that you wdl return home 
 sooner than you expect." 
 
 TJicse words were spoken by Lillias with some confusion,
 
 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 205 
 
 and witli a deepened colour, for slie knew that Eustace was 
 aware that it had been proposed tliat her union with Lord 
 Langley should be quietly solemnized in the com'se of the 
 following week ; and she had wished for the presence of 
 such a friend, such a brother, as she belicA'ed Vere to 
 be. When, however, she made this request, an expression 
 of pain similar to that which she had the evening before 
 noticed, again con^n.ilsed the features of Eustace. He rose 
 abruptly from his seat, and grasping her hand he said, in a 
 faltering accent, 
 
 " Excuse me, dearest Miss Davenant, I have excellent 
 reasons — though such, alas, as I camiot name to you— for 
 absenting myself from to-nn. ]\Iay Heaven bless you, 
 sweetest Lillias, and make you as happy as you deserve 
 to be ; may Lord Langley also deserve the treasure he will 
 possess." 
 
 For a moment Eustace raised the hand he had taken, as 
 if about to press it to his lips ; then, as if rebuking himself, 
 lie let it fall, and mm-miu'ing an inarticulate adieu, quitted 
 the apartment. 
 
 The i)auiful reverie into which LiUias fell when he was 
 gone, was broken by the voice of j\Irs. Haynes, who, creep- 
 ing into the room on tiptoe, with that awe-stricken air and 
 subdued tone involuntarily caused by the awful conscious- 
 ness of the in'esence of death, informed LiUias that the man 
 from the mourning warehouse had arrived ; for she had told 
 the poor bereaved mother that she would relieve her from 
 the painfid task of selecting the fcM' articles of mourning 
 attire, which the little present of Frederick j\Iillman would 
 enable her to piirchase for herself and her children. 
 
 It was a somewhat tedious affair ; and in makmg these 
 pui'chases and cutting out the children's frocks, the day 
 wore away. The sight of the mourning occasioned a fresh 
 burst of grief to Mrs. Corbett ; and again her tears, her self- 
 reproaches, broke forth when LiUias was measuring Uttle 
 Hai-riet for her frock ; her last new garment, not yet worn 
 a dozen times, had been made by Lucy. Towards evening, 
 Tom Hprton called : he had, he told Lillias, changed his ship,
 
 206 LILLIA9 DAVENANT. 
 
 and secured a post on board one wliicli would immediately 
 sail for India. 
 
 "But -svliy liave you done tliis ?" inquired Lillias ; "but 
 yet, I suppose, you will not go till after tbe funeral. I know 
 tliat Mr. and Mrs. Corbett both, expect that j^ou will foUow 
 poor Luej" to ker last home." 
 
 ]\Irs. Corbett had said that she was too ill to see Tom, and 
 had recxuested Lilhas to receive him : perhai:)s she dreaded 
 a meeting with the young man, who, she knew, must con- 
 sider her too much accountable for her daughter's untimely 
 end. If this -^as her feeling, it was but too bitterly reci- 
 procated by Horton. He was standing, v\ith Lillias, by the 
 side of the little coffin, and when she mentioned the expec- 
 tation of the Corbetts, a visible shudder passed thi'ough his 
 frame. 
 
 "Xo, ]\Iis3 Daveuant — never, never!" he said. "Did 
 I follow my dear, dear Lucy to the grave, I must, for the 
 time at least, join hands in friendship and give fair looks to 
 the person whose treachery has laid her here !" and his hand 
 fell upon tlie coffin. " Oh, my poor Lucy !" he exclaimed, 
 as LUlias cU-ew the lid aside, discovering the pale, placid 
 features of the dead girl ; " oh, my poor Lucy ! how much 
 did your cruel mother misjudge us both ! What greater 
 pleasTU'e should I have had than to have assisted your 
 famUjM For the poor i^ittance that you could earn, too, 
 that such villanies should liave been practised !" 
 
 " Do not, I beseech ,you, Mr. Horton, suffer your thoughts 
 to dwell upon this cruel subject !" said Lillias : "v»'e must 
 believe that the fever with which poor Lixcy's illness com- 
 menced vrould have attacked her under auj' chcumstances." 
 
 "Then, Miss Davenant, it would have had a stronger 
 frame to battle with: the fever was the consequence of 
 long fretting and anxiety, caused by the falsehoods of her 
 mother. Look here," contumed Horton, hfting the cold 
 hand of the corpse ; " see, how she is wasted ! you may al- 
 most see through this poor hand. Ah ! my Lucy, your real 
 disorder has been a broken heart, and heavily falls the 
 judgment on those who broke it. Where will be their gain
 
 LILIIAS DAVENANT. 207 
 
 from youi* earnings now? Sometimes, too, perhaps even 
 your mother wUl reproacli herself. But I must tate my 
 last look now, Liicy, of j'our dear white face. Not even to 
 see you laid in your gTave, can I speak a word of fi'iendship 
 to yoiu" mother !" 
 
 Horton stooped doM'n and kissed the cold brow of Lucj^ 
 as he spoke ; then he motioned for Lillias to close the coffin, 
 and turned towards the window, his bosom conAi.ilsed by 
 heav^" sighs, 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, Mr. Horton," said LiUias, approaeliing 
 him, and laying her hand gently on his arm, " indeed you 
 must endeavour to overcome this deep sense of Mrs. Cor- 
 bett's culpabihty. Is she not, as you have yourself said, 
 most severely punished ? Bitter as your feelings now are, 
 3'ou may, in time, overcome them ; yon may go forth into 
 the world, and form new ties : but this poor mother, she has 
 lost her daughter for ever. Oh ! if you could Ijehold her 
 gi'ief, you would pity her. I am sure even that it is her 
 self-reproach which has made her deny herself to you this 
 morning." 
 
 " I am glad she has shown so much feeling," repUed Tom 
 Horton, coldly ; " though, unhappily, it comes too late. I 
 am glad, too, that she is indisposed to see me ; for never 
 wUl I see her again, if I can help it. I coidd not deny my- 
 self a last look at poor Lucy, even at the risk of meeting 
 her mother, whom I must look upon as the sole cause of all 
 that has happened. I shall leave England before the week 
 is ont, and if I can find emplojanent in India, I shall not 
 retnrn. It ma,v be as you sa^-. Miss Davenant, that, at 
 some futm'e time, I may forget to grieve for my poor Lucy ; 
 but at present it seems to me that such a time can never 
 come." 
 
 Once more did Tom Horton approach the coffin, upon 
 which he placed his hand for a moment, but did not 
 attempt to open it : then he received from Lillias a lock of 
 poor Lucy's hair, severed after her death. 
 
 " God bless you, Miss Davenant !" said Tom Horton, as 
 he bade LUlias farewell : " had I or poor Lucy known you 
 earlier, I think that things might have been other than as
 
 208 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 they are. You will, in your own kind way, tell Mrs. Cor- 
 bett that I cannot attend the funeral ; I would not have her 
 know that I cannot bear to meet her, and I will try to fol- 
 low your good counsel, and forgive her for the great wrong 
 which now can never be set right." 
 
 The si)u*its of Lillias had not been raised by her conver- 
 sation with Eustace Vere ; the interview with Horton 
 thorouglily depressed them, and she retired to the land- 
 ladj-'s little parlour and wept. It was not that the awful 
 presence of death in the house, or the affliction of Mrs. 
 Corbett, alone oi)pressed her : a foreshadowing of evil, a 
 sense of some quicklj-'descending mlsfortime, darkened on 
 her soul ; and when, after weeping silently and long, she 
 was roused by a somewhat sharp knock at the house-door, 
 she started up with an instinctive conviction that the news 
 of the misfortune she apprehended was at hand. These 
 forebodings, these fears, did but seem justified when the 
 maid-servant of Mrs. '\^ere entered with a note from her 
 mistress, requestuig that LUHas would return to Hampstead 
 immediatelj', aud iuforming her that Lord Langley had not 
 been there, but that liis father, the Earl of Daylsford, was 
 urgent to see Lillias — had called, and, fiudiug that she was 
 not at home, had urgently begged that she would allow him 
 an interview in the evening, when he would again visit her 
 at the residence of Mrs. Vere. 
 
 Hastily did LiUias make her adieus to Mrs. Corbett, and 
 set out -with the servant on her return home, '\^^lat vague 
 and hon-ible fears, -what hideous and imcertain shapes of 
 woe, harassed her on that short journej-. How bitterly did 
 she, by turns, think of the opposition to her proposed mar- 
 riage offered by Tracy, of the solid advantages which Lord 
 Langley was preparing to sacrifice for her, and of the dying 
 words of Lucy Corbett ! 
 
 The anxious expression evident in the countenance of 
 Mrs. Vere, as, on the arrival of Ldlias, she, without speak- 
 ing, folded her to her heart, did not lessen the fears of the 
 latter ; and she almost gasped, " Oh, what, what is it, dear, 
 dear Mrs. Vere P Tell me what is the matter P"
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 209 
 
 " I cannot say distinclly, my cliild," answered jMi-s. Vcrc ; 
 "but sometldng tliat will not conduce to youi- Lappiness 
 liu'ks, I am certain, beneatk tke measured courtesy of tkat 
 cold, proud carl." 
 
 LiUias turned very pale, and sank into a seat. 
 
 " l^ay, LiUias, my love, my daughter !" cried Mrs. Vere, 
 "be youi'self! As yet we know not what the earl has to 
 say ; but you, my LiUias, whatever it be, you wUl presence 
 your own proper, noble pride, even though it be at the 
 sacrifice of yoiir engagements with Lord Langley !" 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Vere, you know more than you teU mo, if 
 you think that wiU be necessarj^!" cried LiUias, in an accent 
 of despair ; then, her pride coming to her assistance, she 
 added, iu a fii-mer tone, "Yet, be assured j'ou shaU not 
 blush for me, my kindest friend. I -u iU not steal into Lord 
 Daylsford's family. Lady EmUy and her brother have led 
 me to beUeve that, his unhappy entanglements with my 
 imcle apart, the earl has no repugnance to the alUance of 
 his son even with a person so humble as myself : but if I 
 find that the wishes of those who told me this have led 
 them astray, my engagements with Lord Langley shaU 
 indeed be broken !" 
 
 "Let us hope, even yet, it may be otherwise," said 
 Mrs. Vere : " but I hear the wheels of a carriage ; the carl 
 has come, and he requires to see you alone." 
 
 Never had the heart of LiUias beat with more anxietj'- in 
 the presence of his son than it now did on the entrance of 
 the stately Earl of Dajdsford. The earl preserved aU his 
 aristocratic calmness and courtesy ; if he were suffering 
 from any grief or unusual anxietj', it certainly was not evi- 
 dent in face or manner : his voice was bland, liis air most 
 stately courteous, as he first bowed profoundly to LUHas, 
 and then begged tliat slie would be seated. Yet, iu words, 
 he told her that he had never endm'ed a task more unplea- 
 sant to his fechngs, never Ixad known grief or anxiety equal 
 to that which had forced him to this interv'iew with herself. 
 LUlias simply bowed her reply to these superfluous courte- 
 sies ; it woidd have been more mercitid in the earl, she
 
 210 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 tliouglit, to speak to tlie point at once. He was not, how- 
 ever, long in doing so, his voice preserving its bland tone, 
 his manners their gentleness and quietude, as he said, " I 
 behove, Miss Davenant, you have promised very shortlj' to 
 bestow your hand on Lord Langley ?" 
 
 "I have indeed entered into such an engagement, my 
 lord," answered Lilhas ; " but it was with the approbation 
 of more than one member of yoxir lordship's family, and, I 
 have understood, not with 5'om' own disapproval." 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Davenant, j-ou have not been misiui 
 formed," said the earl. ""\^liile I thought such an ar- 
 rangement possible, it is offering but a poor comphnient 
 either to you or to myself, to say how much I should have 
 preferred your mind, accomplishments, and famil3^ in a 
 daughter, to the mere fortune of Miss Genevieve MUhnan." 
 The earl paused here, as if he expected a reply, then he 
 went on in the same bland, -unaltered tone ; " I regret. Miss 
 Davenant, to say that this arrangement is whoUj^ impos- 
 sible ; the fortune wliich Lady Camilla proposes to resign 
 is wholly uneciual to the exigency of my aflau'S : it is very 
 l^ainfid to me, Miss Davenant, to make this acknowledg- 
 ment — it is a pity that it should be necessary." Again the 
 earl paiised, as if for a reply ; he mentioned the pain in- 
 flicted on his own cold i^ride. Could he have known, but 
 for a moment, the agony with v\hich liis every word was 
 crushing the heart of the pale, speechless figure before him, 
 he perhaps would have spared that last taunt. As LiUias 
 still remained silent, he went on ; '' I wiU even say yet more, 
 Miss Davenant ; I will tell you, confiding in j-our honour, 
 that not only are the most important interests of m3'self 
 and Lord Langley involved in the fulfilment of his engage- 
 ment Mith Miss Millman, but that tlie health, the reason, 
 the hfe of Lady Daylsford, are bound up in the same affair ; 
 that the breaking of that engagement will be her madnesss 
 or her death I" Still Lillias remained silent : she coidd not 
 find the heart to speak. " I cannot suppose. Miss Dave- 
 nant," resumed the earl, his hitherto subdued voice assuming 
 something of a haughty tone, " I cannot suppose that,
 
 LIHIAS DAVENANT. 211 
 
 as a lady of refiued and delicate feelings, you ^ill \^isli, 
 after tliese explanations, to liold Lord Langley to his en- 
 gagement with, yourself, an engagement, I must remind 
 you, subsequent to that with Miss ]\Iilhnan, and which 
 woidd be the rum both of his family and himself. You 
 must, too, I think, make fiUl aUowaneo for n\y iDOsitiou, 
 and be aware that I have done much in so far chscovcring 
 my famUy affairs to a stranger like yourself; nor can I 
 doubt that you will forthwith resign yoiu' claims on Lord 
 Langley." 
 
 LiUias rose up, and spoke now. The cold white corpse of 
 Lucy Corbett was scarce paler or colder than was she at 
 that moment, j^et there was a light m her dark eye — a 
 diguit}', ahnost a sternness, in her whole bearing, before 
 which even the x^roud, impassible earl seemed to shrink, 
 for ho averted his looks wliUe LiUias spoke. " I am fidly 
 aware, ny lord," she began, in a voice the tones of which 
 A^'ere chiUuig and measured as his own ; "I am fully aware 
 that it woidd be alUce dcgradiag and useless to mention to 
 3'our lordship my entire and perfect love for yom* son, and 
 the worse than indifference of Miss Millman ; young as I 
 am, I am too well acquainted with the M'orld, not to know 
 that to obtrade upon your lordship one word even as to 
 'o hat I at this moment suffer, woidd be to encounter either 
 insidt or contempt ; but I feel, my lord, that if what I may 
 justly call my own honest, honovirable pride, would lead me at 
 this moment to renounce all the hopes and happiness I have 
 known in Lord Langley 's love, there is yet a justice due to 
 him as well as to m^'self ; that I were unworthy to be his 
 afBanced bride if, at the requirement of any other person, 
 even though appearing in the venerated character of his 
 father, I, at a moment's notice, and without his sanction, 
 repudiate the solemn engagements with him into which I 
 have entered." 
 
 " I am sorry you compel these exti-emities. Miss Dave- 
 nant," said the earl ; " I would have spared yon the pain of 
 knowing that Lord Langley is now fully aware how greatly 
 his unfortimate attachment to yourself has increased the 
 
 p2
 
 212 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 
 
 distresses of lois faniLly and liimself. But, as I understand 
 tliat you require liis permission to recede from your engage- 
 ment, I must even deliver a letter from Lord Langley, 
 which I had hoped it would haAe been unnecessary for you 
 to see." 
 
 Mechanically LUlias toot the letter — it contained but a 
 few lines, -oTitten, apparently, in haste, but in which she 
 too well recognised the writing of Lord Langley. 
 
 "LiUias, dearest Ldhas !" said this fatal letter, "hate, 
 despise, renounce me, for I am to be the husband of your 
 cousin!" 
 
 "With a cahnness at which she was herself astonished, 
 LiUias refolded this letter, and said to the earl, "Lord 
 Langley is indeed released from all promises to me ; may I 
 hope that j^our lordship will tell him, that I have uttered 
 not a word of reproach ; to a man who can act as he has 
 done, reproaches would be worse than useless." 
 
 "A moment yet, Miss Davenant," said the earl, for LiUias 
 was about to withdraw. " May I entreat that you wiU not 
 make this sad aiFair public ; I know that for these broken 
 promises my son is amenable to the law, but in private, and 
 to your ear, let me say, that it^is with bitterness of heart 
 that he breaks his faith with you." 
 
 "Let me hope," said LUlias, "that Lord Langley is at 
 least innocent of the supposition, tliat I woidd seek in the 
 disgrace of publicity a vUe pecuniary recompence for a 
 wounded heart : you must indeed, yourself, my lord, have 
 held me most unworthy to enter j^oiu' famUy, if you could 
 suppose of me these things." 
 
 Again LiUias ap]")roached the door, and the earl, drawing 
 aside, bo^^'ed profoundly as she quitted the room. A minute 
 afterwards his carriage drove away from the door. 
 
 LiUias passed the parlour where Mrs. Vere and her sister 
 were sitting; not even the voice of her best friend could she 
 bear to hear. She groned like one blind to her bed-room, 
 and .sunk, as she entered it, on a chair by the door. It was 
 a bright clear night, and the moonbeams, shuiing full in at 
 the window where the bhnd had not been dra'v^Tij feU upon
 
 LILLIAS DAVENAKT. 213 
 
 a wliite laco dresa and a wi'oath of frosted roses Mliieli Lady 
 Emily had lately sent to Lillias ; the ft-littcrmff of the 
 flowers caught her glauee as it wandered round the eliam- 
 ber, and the full sense of her misery seemed to overpower 
 her at onee. A shriek, so long, wild, and piercing, burst 
 from her hps, that Mrs. Vere and iUice rushed up stairs in 
 teiTor, and found her extended senseless on the floor. 
 ****■» 
 
 Tlie earl and countess were the only members of the 
 Daylsford family in town that night. On arriving at home 
 the carl inquired for liis wife, and was told that she Avas 
 in her boudoir, wliither he immechately proceeded. The 
 countess, wlio was affecting only to read — for the book in 
 her hand was half closed — looked up anxiously as her hus- 
 band entered. " Well, madam," he said, in a voice sterner 
 than he had used with Lillias, " it is done ; your son has 
 resigned the hand of a lady gently born and gently bred ; 
 he AAill marry Genevieve Milhiian : this, madam — tliink of 
 it — reniembcr it — this degi'admg and miserable marriage is 
 what he owes, what I owe, to your folly and your crimes,"
 
 214 LILLIAS DAVEKANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds, 
 I'll stand against both, as 1 am hemmed in thus." 
 
 Keiu Way to Pay Old Debts. 
 
 It was tlie eve of tlie cla.Y tliat was to unite Genevieve Mill- 
 man and Lord Langley : Sir Gabriel was seated alone in 
 Itis library with papers before him ; not, it would seem, most 
 agreeable in their pvirport, as might be judged from the 
 dark scowl which gathered on his brow, or the occasional 
 nervous twitching roimd liis mouth. 
 
 Preparations for the wedding, however, were being car- 
 ried on in a splendid stjle. It was unfortunate that the 
 peculiar seasori of the year rendered it impossible to coUect 
 a large assemblage of the fashionable world in London ; but 
 Sir Gabriel and his wife were able to console themselves 
 with adding to the wedding party several of their most de- 
 tested city acquaintances, to be dazzled by the consummation 
 of their greatness; and this they were the more determined 
 to do, because the dispute "svith Eustace Vere was in any- 
 thing but a promising condition for the baronet. 
 
 It had been arranged, that Lord Langley and Genevieve 
 should, immediately on their man-iage, proceed to Heath- 
 cote, that paternal estate of Sir Harry Vere which his im- 
 prudence or extravagance had consigned to the grasp of 
 Sir Gabriel Millman. Tins estate, it should be observed, 
 was situate on the confines of Derbyshire, and not distant 
 more than ten miles from Beechgrove : a distance not in 
 the country suflficieutly remote to prevent the families of the 
 Earl of Dajlsford and that of the old baronet, the father of 
 Sir Hairy Vere, from being very intimate. Tliis family 
 intimacy, however, which had subsisted for some genera-
 
 LILLUS DAVENANT. 215 
 
 tions, had been somewliat broken, by a quaiTel between the 
 present carl and Sir Harry's father, when they were both 
 young men. Su" Cliarles Vere had, however, died suddenly 
 in the prime of life: his lady sm-vived hun but a few months; 
 and the earl, compassionatmg the orphan condition of the 
 boy Harry, had not opposed his son's contractmg a close 
 intimacy with him. As for Eustace Vere, he scarcely knew 
 his cousin by sight : the proud family of the baronet had 
 been deeply offended by the marriage of Eustace's father 
 with the daughter of a poor curate. It was whispered, in- 
 deed, that the extraordmary loveliness of Clara Medwin 
 had not been beheld by Sir Charles himself without emo- 
 tion, and that personal pique, the mortification of rejected 
 addresses, had much to do with his indignation at the alli- 
 ance which his brother had formed, and with the resolution 
 he took of never seeing the offending i)arties more — a reso- 
 lution which was after^vards confirmed by Mr. Vere's enter- 
 ing into mercantile business, w^hich the proud baronet held 
 as a stiU greater offence to the dignity of his family, than 
 even the maiTiage with the portionless Clara. 
 
 It was a cruel destiny, perliaps,.no less than their own 
 imprudence, that made both Mr. Vere and his nephew the 
 victmis of the greedy extortioner, Sir Gabriel Mi 11 man: and 
 apart even from the actual worth of the propertj^ nothing 
 had ever so much aflfected the careless and profhgate Sir 
 Harry, as the loss of that estate and mansion, haUowed hy 
 being so long in the possession of his family. Sir Gabriel 
 knew this, and in his intense hatred of the whole race of 
 the Veres, it was that he fixed upon Heathcote for the bridal 
 retreat of his daughter, in i^reference to Beechgrove, Adhere 
 Lord Langley had proposed to go. Neither had Sir Gabriel, 
 as had been understood by Eustace, actually resigned the 
 estate to his daughter ; he had, indeed, declared his inten- 
 tion of bequeathing it to her at his death ; he could not 
 endm'e to part while living with the dear delight of revel- 
 ling and commanding in that old manor-house, where in 
 the days of his youth, he had been the meanest and most 
 servile worshipper of wealth and position in the person of
 
 216 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 Sir Clement, tlie graudfatlier of Sir Harry and Eustace 
 Vere. Amid tlie embarrassments, the liideons dangers of 
 Lis ijresent position, tlie probable defeat of bis i^rotracted 
 and unbolj' struggle with Eustace, the deep, deep ruin and 
 obloquj^ with which he was threatened by Gerald Tracy and 
 Marion Grey, those gathering dangers on all sides, which 
 made his rejoicing like that of one who dances on the crater 
 of a bm'sting volcano ; amid aU these dangers he was exult- 
 ant, crazed \^ith wicked ti-iumph, at the thought that it was 
 in the manor-house of Heathcote, that his daughter would 
 hold her bridal hours : that at Heathcote he was supreme 
 master ; in the halls of Heathcote, his avarice, his mean, 
 low revenge woidd trimnph still. 
 
 Su' Gabriel had so supreme a confidence in the resources 
 of his cunning, his wickedness — his faith in wickedness was 
 so i)rofound, that he could not believe it would fail : he was 
 honest in that belief, if in nothing else. True, he had his 
 moments of despondency ; when, but for the close watching 
 of his wife, he woidd have put a speedy end to liis own 
 triumphs : but those were times and seasons when he was 
 cowed by the actual loss of some of his beloved gold, not 
 when threatened with the disclosm'e of certain i)assages in 
 his early life. AVhen he coolly considered the chance of those 
 disclosures, he thought it a very unlikely chance ; for, if 
 Gerald Tracy was very revengeful and very clever, Sir 
 Gabriel was very malignant and veiy cimning, and flattered 
 hunself that he was by far the cleverest man of the two ; 
 and made up hi.s mind that a certain nameless potentate, of 
 an eciually nameless region, being repoi-ted as " always 
 good to Ills own," would certainly help him, Sir Gabriel, to 
 overreach Gerald IVacy. 
 
 On the eve of his daughter's weddijig, Sir Gabriel found 
 a mighty consolation in this belief: it ahnost consoled liim 
 under the possible contingency of being compelled to refund 
 Mr. Vere's sixty tliousand poujids : it would give him a 
 sharp squeeze to part -nilh such a sum, ccrtainl}- ; but it 
 woidd not ruin him, or restore Heathcote to the family of 
 the Veres.
 
 LILLIAS DATENANT, 217 
 
 The excellent Sir Gabriel vraa in the midst of these reflec- 
 tions, when ho was disturbed hy a knock at his library 
 door, and was then informed that Sir Harry Vere and a 
 lady wished to see him. Sir Gabriel was not much pleased 
 with this interruption, but held Sir Ilany as a person too 
 much in his power, to be the cause of any peculiar uneasi- 
 ness. This, however, was a " colour" which he was not 
 destined to " die in," as he presently apprehended ; for there 
 was an an* of careless insolence in the demeanour of his 
 fellow baronet, wliich Sir Galjriel's guilty conscience whis- 
 pered must bode harm to him. The lady A^ho accompanied 
 Sir Harry, was a woman of commanding presence, elegantly 
 attired and closely veiled ; the aii', too, with which she 
 entered the room in her pehsse of rich black velvet, with its 
 sable floimcing sweeping the groimd, seemed to betoken 
 that she, no more than her companion, was awed by the pre- 
 sence and majesty of the great capitahst. Sir Harry did not 
 introduce this lady by name ; but when Sir Gabriel rose, 
 and, after greeting hmi, looked incpiiriugly towards the lady 
 as if wishing to know how he was to adcbess her, Sh* Harry 
 indulged in a shght laugh. 
 
 "My dear friend," he said, "I will make known to you 
 presently the style and title of my fair companion, in whom, 
 perhaps, before we part, you may recognise an old and 
 valuable, if not valued acquaintance. I have, however, an 
 ugly little matter of business to settle with you, in wlueh 
 her name and presence may, or may not, be of use ; and as you 
 know that my business habits lead me always to prefer 
 business to pleasiu'e, I wdl enter upon this business matter 
 before I troidjle my dear and fair friend to remove her veU. 
 To begin, then. Sir Gabriel MiUman ; it is, I beUeve, 
 an-anged that your lovely daugliter and lier noble bride- 
 groom slioidd, after the auspicious ceremony which unites 
 the houses of Daylsford and MiUman, proceed to my dear 
 old manor-house of Heathcote." 
 
 "Your manor-house!" cried Sir Gabriel, with coarse 
 insolence in his looks and tone, which he never failed to 
 exliibit when the reins were, as he supposed, iu his own
 
 218 LILLIAS DATENANT. 
 
 hauds. " Yourmauor-liouse ! my good sir! surelj' you are 
 not so much crazed bj- tlie loss of it, that you forget the 
 fashion in which it passed out of j'our possession !" 
 
 '' jN'ot at all — I do not forget anj-thing!" said Sir Harrj^ ; 
 " nevertheless, I must trouble j'ou to alter your arrange- 
 ments. The bride and bridegroom must spend their honey- 
 moon elsewhere — at Beeehgrove, if you like — I have no 
 objection^t is the same route : and I really must go to 
 Heathcote myself." 
 
 At these words, pronounced with the most perfect cool- 
 ness, Sir Gabriel burst into a loud laugh, and then said, — 
 
 " EeaUy, my poor yoimg friend, at any other tune I should 
 not object to gratify yovir whim; you might go down to Heath- 
 cote, and amiise yoiirself with plapng the master of it for a 
 few days ; but now, -n lien its haUs are chosen as the retreat 
 of my daughter, joii really must excuse me : you demand 
 too great a sacrifice from my friendship." 
 
 '' Ah, my dear Sir Gabriel!" replied the other baronet, " I 
 am sorry that you put me to the necessitj^ of appealing to 
 my fair friend ; I had wished to settle this httle matter on 
 the most amicable terms, and I fear that the interference of 
 my friend, a lady and a fair one though she be, will not 
 conduce to these amicable conditions ; but I cannot help it; 
 I must have Heathcote again, and you had really better 
 give it up ciuietly." 
 
 " Give it up, sir ! — an estate of which the mortgage was 
 foreclosed, and which your insane gambling first in- 
 volved!" 
 
 " Sir Gabriel Millmau!" said Sii' Hany, "I have found 
 that the very gambhng house where I became involved, is 
 sccretlj' supported by j-ou ; that, in the stakes, too, you have 
 played upon me manceuvres very much like those by which 
 you ruined my uncle; have a care lest the law calls you 
 to account for that also ; besides, was it not too hard that 
 you shoTild win from me first my money, and then mj- 
 estate ?" 
 
 " The law wiU take no cognizance of that, Sir Harry," 
 replied MiUman ; "indeed, there would be enough to do did
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 219 
 
 it take cognizance of the fortunes of every heedless spend- 
 thi'ift who is ruined at the gaming-table." 
 
 " It is a great pit}', Sir Gabriel, that you will .yield notliing 
 quietly," said the lady who had entered with Sir Harry 
 Vere ; " but I tliink my influence will be sufficient even to 
 restore Heathcote to my young friend." 
 
 As she spoke thus, the female advanced, and, seating her- 
 self at the table opposite Sir Gabriel, she threw \ip her veU, 
 and discovered features, which, being of the aquiline cast, 
 and enlivened by a pair of intensely black ej'es, with a high 
 complexion, were certainly of a beauty more likely to com- 
 mand than win . 
 
 Very beautiful, however, this woman was ; her form, 
 though large, was of a perfect mould— nothing coidd be 
 piu-er than the white of her complexion, nothing richer, 
 though perhaps a tint too deep, than its red. Though look- 
 ing much younger, she was really forty- eight years of age, 
 but her teeth were dazzling white, and not a grey tliread 
 marred the beauty of her raven locks. 
 
 Bold, haughty, insolent, as was the beauty of this woman, 
 little calculated to win either respect or love, there was 
 nothing in her appearance to inspire either teiTor or dis- 
 gust; yet Sir Gabriel turned ghastly pale, and a visible 
 shudder passed through his frame ; then, as she sat with 
 her elbow on the table, and her chin supported on her white 
 hand, he gazed steadily at her, and his courage or inso- 
 lence somewhat returning, he tried bravado. 
 
 " Eeally, Marion Grej'," he said, " if comi^liments were 
 seeml.y things between us — if either of us coidd forget the 
 years gone by — I might comphmeut you, s^^ eet Marion, on 
 j^our looks, bright and blooming as you were at eighteen, 
 Marion ; a statelier grace, perhaps, but none the •worse for 
 that. But, you see, Marion, comphments are not the wares 
 in which we can deal. You have played j-our game weU, 
 Marion ; you have held some little power over me up to the 
 present time ; but really, sweet Marion, this visit ■n'ith which 
 you honour me is a false move. How could you be so 
 heedless? your beauty is well preseiTed, cei-tainly, but
 
 220 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 tliinlc you it can ac complisli now, that in wliieli it faQed in 
 the years long gone ? Oh, beautiful Marion ! know you not 
 the admirable tiaiism which teaches us that nature's first 
 law is to preserve ourselves ? Oh, Marion ! sUly bird ! thou 
 hast entangled thyself in the net of the fowler !" 
 
 " Not so, Sir Gabriel Millman," repUed Marion Grey ; 
 " I know you too well to place myself in your power ; I 
 Icnow you better than wlien, in those years to wluch you 
 refer, upon the vain hope that you would make nie jour 
 ■wife, I helped you to ruin the excellent Tracy ; but even 
 then, if you will be pleased to remember, my love for you 
 was not whoU}^ blind. I put it out of your power to avail 
 yourself of the documents which I stole, and accuse me of 
 the theft. I cannot return the compliment you have offered ; 
 but I may reasonably ask whether, now that you are a portly 
 old married gentleman, I am hkely to be capable of a weak- 
 ness which I avoided five-and-twenty years ago. Other 
 dear friends of old I have found are reviving for you as 
 well as myself ; and ^A'hen I tell you that it is in my power 
 to make Sir Harry Vere fully acquainted with the story of 
 Mabel Doring and her friends, and how you helped them 
 on their course through life, you aaUI not, I think, choose to 
 inciu- the discovery, upon so slight a loss and mortification 
 as the rehnciuishment of tlie Heathcote estate." 
 
 The voice of Marion Grey had been very cahn and even in 
 hertones while sliethus adcb-essed Sir Gabriel— not the slight- 
 est touch either of satire or wrath ; her ruby lips still pre- 
 servcdtheir sweet smde; her white forehead remained smooth 
 and unridllcd. The ellcct of that address on Su' Gabriel, 
 was, however, frightful to behold ; his face varied from pale 
 to red, deepening by turns to a didl purple, or fading, to 
 leave his featui'cs rigid and livid as those of a corpse. 
 Marion Grey Avaitcd some minutes for a reply; then she 
 said, in her fonner cold, unmoved tone, — 
 
 " I regret to hun\v you, Sir Gabriel, my dear friend of 
 old ; but really I must liave an answer. This gallant Sir 
 Harry Vere has placed Heathcote at my disposal, and i
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 221 
 
 am desirous to proceed thither at oiicc. I intend to have 
 some alterations made in that old house, Sir Gabriel, which 
 wc both know so well ; particularly in the west drawing- 
 room, and the adjacent chamber." 
 
 "Devil!" cried Sir Gabriel, starting from his seat, and 
 si)eaking, as it seemed, with uncontrollable passion; "I 
 know you, and your emploj^er. But I -will disappoint 
 you all— all of you. Better be ruined at once— better dare 
 inmaediate and complete destruction, than be robbed piece- 
 meal—be brought down to poverty, step by step— to watch 
 the approach of misery, and be betrayed at last, after the 
 sacrifice of all that makes life endurable ! Oh, he, your 
 emi)loyer, is merciless ! Why not declare all he knows ? 
 Oh, I see it all. These are the measures w^hich please his 
 cruel revenge — to have me the tool, the puppet, to be 
 moved along at his pleasure — and hve— hve or die at his 
 breath ! But I will disappoint him ; I will disappoint you 
 tdl!" 
 
 " I think not," rephed Marion, a sUght tinge of satire, 
 for the fu'st time, visible in her looks and her tones ; 
 " Life is very dear to you, Su* Gabriel, and you are very 
 rich ; you wUl not be ruined by the loss of the Heathcote 
 estate." 
 
 " Oh, no, not ruined, Marion, my most dear friend," 
 said Sir Gabriel. " Tlioughl cannot boast aU the wealth of 
 the Indies, yet sixty thousand pounds to Eustace Vere, and 
 the Heathcote estate to this honoiu'able gentleman his 
 cousin, would not bring me to the Gazette. At the same 
 tune I doubt not that, with your liberahty, you will allow 
 the loss to be a Httle serious, and give me a day or two to 
 arrange my new i^lans. You must perceive that some Uttle 
 excuse wiU be necessary to Lord Laugley and his family." 
 
 " You really must determine on your course at once," 
 replied Marion Grey ; " as I have already said, I and 
 my friend Sir Haiiy have immediate occasion for Heath- 
 cote." 
 
 Sir Gabriel paced the room : a strange expression crossed
 
 222 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 his face as lie tiu'necl from tlie barouet and Mai'ion, wlio 
 sat silently ^Aaiting liis resolve. Tliey were so gracious 
 as to allow hini five minutes of reflection. 
 
 " Well," at length, said Su' Gabriel, restmiing his seat, 
 " I suppose it nuist even be as you say. You are a Httle 
 hard and abrupt, though ; but I will forthwith empower 
 Su" Harry to take Heathcote again iato his possession. 
 Perhaps, he will be at the trouble of chsmissiug the servants 
 ■ivhom I have sent there : I shall send them to my house in 
 Berkshire." 
 
 "Certainly, my dear friend," said Sir Hany ; " I should 
 msh for my own servants." 
 
 '"Of course," said Su' Gabriel, with a grim smUe, "I 
 shall tell the world some Httle tale of a rich and generous 
 friend of yours, who has redeemed your estate." 
 
 "Aj", ay, Sir Gabriel, that is easily clone," replied the 
 barouet, as he received some papers relatmg to the pro- 
 perty, which Sir Gabriel took from his cabinet — that cabinet 
 ■v\here the loaded pistols were kept. 
 
 " I shall leave tovrn for Heathcote to-morrow," said Sir 
 Harry, as he prepared to vrithdraw, Marion Grey leaning 
 on his arm. " Perhaps," he added, with an ironical polite- 
 ness, that brimmed to overflowing Sir Gabriel's cvip of gall, 
 " perhaps, my dear friend, I shall some time have the plea- 
 sixre of again entertaining j'ou there." 
 
 His unwelcome guests had departed— Sir Gabriel sat lost 
 in thought, his elbow resting On the table, and his fingers 
 tw isted in his iron-grey hair, as though he would have torn 
 it up by the roots ; the veins in his forehead stancUng out 
 like cords ; his teeth clenched, and horror and despair 
 ■v\ritt€n in every line of liis haggard face ; but even that 
 horror, that despair, Avas less frightful than the smUe with 
 \^ hich he at length muttered — 
 
 " I see it now. Yes, yes, the thoughtless, shallo\^- fool ! He 
 will take those title-deeds down to Heathcote, and Mistress 
 Marion Grey will accompany him thither. Well, well. Sir 
 Harry Vere, I think my brains shoidd be at least a match 
 for youi-3 !"
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 223 
 
 At tliis moment Mr. IS^icliolas was annouuced. He came 
 to inform the baronet that his prospects in the suit with 
 Eustace Vere wore the worst possible aspect. 
 
 " Mr. Nicholas— jMr. Nicholas— my good sir !" said Sir 
 Gabriel, " may I be allo-n'ed to tell you, that to-morrow is 
 my daughter's wcdding-daj', and really I cannot talk with 
 you to-night."
 
 224 LILLIAS DATENANT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 ■ The proud day, 
 
 Attended with the pleasures of the world. 
 Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds. 
 To give me audience." 
 
 King John. 
 
 LoED Langley and Genevieve Milhnan were united ; tlie 
 newspapers liad told Lillias tliat. Slie liad not, as Mrs. 
 Vere had at first apprehended, been seized with a violent 
 illness, as the result of her interview ■« ith the Earl of Dayls- 
 ford. Her loftj- pride, too, the very unpetuosity of her 
 temper, enabled her to straggle valiantly with her wounded 
 heart. She would not have suffered even her beloved friend 
 Mrs. Vere to know M'hat sleepless nights, what bitter days, 
 she passed; how, for the time at least, she vainly called 
 upon her reason to teach her that indifference, that absolute 
 contempt of Lord Langley, which he so well deserved. 
 
 From Lady Emily, LUhas had received a letter, which left 
 to that kmd friend and her aunt their old places in her 
 heart. 
 
 " I dare not present myself before you, dearest LiUias," 
 said Lady Emily m this letter ; " I feel too deeply shamed 
 in being the sister of the man who has so basely, so cruelly 
 deceived you. When the tune comes that we both remember 
 this less keenly, your sister EmUy will again fold you to 
 her heart." 
 
 Tliis letter further ^ent on to inform Lilhas that the 
 Ladies I'^mily and Camilla resolved not to countenance the 
 marriage ^vith Genevieve by their presence. Both were about 
 to proceed immediately to the continent. 
 
 Tlic bravei^' -nith wliich Lillias taught herself the art of 
 weeping behind a mask deceived Mrs. Vere. She thought 
 that the outraged gh-1 really partook iu the unmitigated
 
 LILLIA8 DAVENANT. 225 
 
 scorn with •whicli she, Mrs. Yore, regarded Lord Langley. 
 Oh, LiUias scorned herself that she covdd merely Scorn her 
 false lover — that she found her heart still agitated by a hope- 
 less love, by a frenzied jealousy. Oh ! vainly she rebuked 
 lierself for so bitterly hating, loatliing Genevieve, for the 
 perjmy of Loi*d Langley. Her pride, her indignation, 
 increased for the time the torments of LiJlias. Oh ! how 
 fain -would she have said — 
 
 " Tell me, 
 In what vile part of this anatomy 
 Does my /ove lodge ? Tell me, that I may sack 
 The hateful mansion I" 
 
 Those sleepless nights, those weary walks upon the heath, 
 wliere the winter winds blew so cliilly, but did not cool 
 the fever of her brow— could these have lasted, the weak 
 frame of LiUias must have sunk imder the mind's disease. 
 But the sharpness of her anguish was like the sxu'geon's 
 knife in the rankled wound — that insulted pride ^'hich 
 probed the festering heart, was in time to heal the wound it 
 piu'ified. 
 
 From Tracy, Lillias had not heard, since the last letter 
 she received from hiin in the house of her uncle ; and now, 
 amid her other afflictions, Ldhas counted the loss of that 
 friend whose Avise coiinsels she had defied. Mrs. Vere was 
 indeed now the only friend she had, and well did she per- 
 form the office of a friend ; never, by word or look, did she 
 remind Lillias of her ill-fated engagement. The bridal 
 robes, the books she had read with him, all those mute 
 remembrances of her false lover, did Mrs. Vere quietly 
 remove, enjoiuingAhce also bj^ no means to mention either 
 Lord Langley or any of liis f^nily in tlic hearing of her 
 sister. Mrs. Vere did not even restrain Lillias in her long 
 walks ; she trusted that, ere long, the powerful mhid would 
 correct and strengthen the feeble heart. 
 
 Eustace Vere stdl remained absent from home ; and LiUias 
 perceived that the delicate friendship of himself and his 
 mother had sometliingto do with that protracted absence,— 
 that they were willing to spare the eyes of Eustace oa 
 her fresh grief
 
 226 IILLIAS DAVENANT, 
 
 It was a dreary afternoon, in the beginning of Pebruarj^ ; 
 tliongli neither vain nor snow liad fallen during the day, the 
 sky was covered with leaden clouds, and the winds careered 
 with mad violence over the heath and the adjacent hUls. 
 Lillias, however, wrapped in a large shawl, was insensible 
 to the piercing cold and to the quickly-gathering twilight, 
 as she iiaced slowly backvs'ards and forwards on that lonely 
 Ijortion of the heath which was risually the scene of her 
 cheerless rambles. In the meditations of this pecuhar 
 afternoon, her thoughts had rested much upon Eustace and 
 liis mother ; and the contrast which she had naturally 
 drawn between Vere and Lord Langley was but little 
 favourable to the latter. Lillias remembered, too, how 
 Eustace had struggled through every species of distress ; 
 how bravely and nobly lie had borne them all; how 
 vahantly refused to yield to the wrong-doer : nor did she 
 forget that her own suspicions, and even, on one occasion, 
 his mother's words, had intunated that the affections of 
 Eustace had not passed unscathed. " Yet he," mui'mured 
 Lillias to herself, "will not waste his life m useless re- 
 pinings, even for the love of a worthy object— and surely 
 Eustace Vere wotdd love none other ; -sA'liile I — oh, shame ! 
 — am lost in vain regrets for the most false and worthless of 
 his sex !" 
 
 All-healing was this thought : the meditations of that 
 afternoon were not in vain. Lilhas felt that it was not in 
 the inactive life she had lately led that she might recover 
 her lost peace ; neither could she endm*e to remain a bur » 
 den on the generosity of Eustace and his mother. She 
 resolved, therefore, on the follo'ning day, to adopt measures 
 for prociu'ing some daily pvipils ; for, were such employment 
 obtained, she might still reside with her beloved friend, 
 herself superintend the education of Alice, and feel that she 
 was contributing her mite towards the expenses of the 
 household. Cheered by this resolution, Lillias tui-ned her 
 steps towards the cottage, with a lighter heart than she had 
 known since her interview with the Earl of Dajdsford. 
 She was some>^'hat surprised, and a little startled, to find
 
 IIILIAS DAVENAKT. 227 
 
 how thickly the darkness was gathering round her ; and was 
 proceeding with a hurried pace, -when a man appeared amid 
 the obscurity, approached, and asked her the way to the 
 High-street. The question was rather a strange one, from 
 a person traversing the heath at such an hour, and LiUias, 
 having given an answer, hurried towards the main road. 
 The man, however, followed, and endeavoured to enter into 
 conversation; but, finding that she walked fast without 
 answering him, he rudely seized her arm, and said, "Don't 
 fatigue yourself, pray. Miss Davenant; that carriage which 
 you see j'onder is waiting for you." 
 
 As he spoke thus, the man, whose voice and person were 
 unknown to Lilhas, and as he forced her forwards, she 
 cast her eyes around, and shrieked loudly for assistance. 
 No person, however, was to be seen, amid the thickly- 
 gathering gloom, through which the carriage waiting in the 
 road beside the heath was but faintly chscernible ; and, to 
 prevent the voice of LiUias procuring for her any assistance, 
 the stranger held his handkerchief tightly over her mouth, 
 while one of the servants, leaving the vehicle, assisted the 
 man who had already seized Lilhas to force her into it. 
 
 <42
 
 228 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 " Ere the bat hath flown 
 His cloistered flight— ere to black Hec:ite's summons. 
 The shard-borne beetle, vvitli his drov.sy hums, 
 Ilath rung night's j-awiiing peal — there shall be done 
 A deed of dreadiul note. " 
 
 Macbeth: 
 
 SiK Haeey Yhv.^ sat v.itL. Marion Grey in an apartment of 
 Jiis old ancestral mansion of Heatlicote. It Tias about ten 
 o'clock in the evening; but, tbongh. the v,-inds -vrhistled 
 shrilly round the old mansion, and among the tall trees in 
 the park, the aii* was clear and frosty ; and though there 
 was no moon, the stars glittered by mjTiads on the " clear 
 obsciu'e " of the wintry sky. An immense fire blazed in 
 the stove, near which Sir Harry and his companion sat, and 
 on the table before them were the rich vintages of France 
 and Spain, sparkling in richly-ciit glass ; silver and porce- 
 lain dishes, filled vrith the most dehcate fruits, fresh and 
 preserved ; cakes and confections ; in short, aU the luxmy of 
 a dessert, which seemed to betoken a very costly feast having 
 gone before it. 
 
 Great conviviality seemed to prevail between Sir Harry 
 and his companion ; though it would have seemed, by her 
 close, high dress of black satin, the disorder of her rich 
 black hair, and the bonnet and large mantle thrown care- 
 lessly on a chair beside her, that her visit had been recent, 
 and, perhajjs, unexpected. The apartment in which they 
 sat had nothing in itself to promote liilarity ; it was about 
 the gloomiest room in the whole mansion, which was gene- 
 rally remarkable for its gloom. This chamber, then, situate 
 in the oldest and least frequented i)ortion of the manor- 
 bouse of Heathcote, ■was veiy spacious : its ceiling was low, 
 which would have alone given it a sombre appearance. On
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 229 
 
 one side of tliis room Avas a range of round-headed windows, 
 ■R-ith tliiclc, cimil3roiis oaken framework, intersected by 
 small panes of glass, and overlooking a portion of tlie wild 
 sceneiy of tke park, and the still wdder countiy bes'ond. 
 Opposite to these windows was the wall of the apartment, 
 not papered according to the fashion of the present day, but 
 hung with green leather, strangely ornamented with gilt 
 figm-es of men, trees, and animals. These gilt leather 
 hangings had been used to replace the tapestry which had 
 anciently adorned this apartment, and was thought a very 
 beautiful faucj^ when first introduced, in the days of Sir 
 Harry Vere's grandfather, and the reign of George the 
 Second. Over the fireplace hung an oil painting of some 
 ancestor of the baronet, redoubtable in the wars of Queen 
 Anne ; and opposite to the fii*eplace were a pan' of huge 
 folding-doors, framed of oak, and which opened mto an outer 
 apartment. This chamber belonged to a range which had 
 been but little used by Sir Charles '^^ere, the last baronet, 
 but which were much in reauest with his son, for reasons 
 which vi-ill appear anon. 
 
 The baronet and his female companion were in high good 
 humour, congi*atulating themselves on tlTe great wisdom 
 with which they had managed the affair with Sir Gabriel 
 Millman, and another equally delicate and honourable busi- 
 ness which they had on hand. Tiie wind whistled and 
 shrieked madly round the old house ; the flames hissed and 
 roared up the wide chimney ; but louder than either was 
 the loud laughter of Sir Hany and his companion. Little 
 dreamed they, in that warm, well-lighted chamber, luxuriat- 
 ing over the rich wines and delicate confections — Uttle 
 dreamed they of the mischief brewing for them amid the 
 hubbub of those wild winds without ! 
 
 A man, muffled to the hps in shawls and great coats, and 
 with his hat di'awn low over his eyes, approached the park 
 palings. Almost sheer down from that point of the boun- 
 dary sunk one of those steep hills, or rather precipices, so 
 common in the steep county of Derbs^shire. Very grim to 
 look at was that ravine, even in the brightness of noonday,
 
 230 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 and a fine bulwark it was tliouglit to be for tliat portion of 
 the park where tlie palings were so low, because, of course, 
 the demesne was protected from intruders by the raviae, 
 where the bright summer srai only threw into rehef here 
 and there the clmnps of yellow broom or prickly furze that 
 clogged the sides of the ravine, while a stone, tumbled from 
 the summit, -nould fall clattering down the rough breast of 
 the hill, and fall with a sullen splash into the stream that 
 brawled its course along the dell below, here and there, 
 quite OA'erarched by old misshapen trees or clustering shrubs, 
 but ever hurrj-ing on its free waters, safe from the intrusion 
 of a foot upon its banks till it reached the level ground 
 beyond the ravine. One of the approaches to the park of 
 Heathcote ssas through a gate communicating with a rustic 
 bridge, thrown over this very ravine. Blind paths, made 
 partly so by art as much as nature, conducted the person 
 who entered by this gate very quickly to the manor-house. 
 Kone of Su- Harry Vere's servants saw the man who 
 leaped the park paling. The most daring poacher would 
 scarce have ventured to climb the steep sides of this ravine, 
 yet this man had done — and yet his person was none of the 
 lightest or most agUe. Surely he nmst have been well ac- 
 quainted with the ground ; it might have been a feat for 
 some daring schoolboy to risk his neck tipon his grasp of a 
 root of furze, or the precarious footing on a loose stone, or 
 overhanging clod of clay : a feat for a daring schoolboy, 
 indeed, at mid-da^', but scarcely for a portly man past the 
 middle age; yet had such a man perfonned it, and in 
 safety too. 
 
 Brcatldcss with the imusual exertion, he leaned for some 
 minutes on the park pahng, cautiously, however, casting 
 his eyes roimd to discover through the semi-darkness 
 whether any person ^^■as near. Not a creature "SA'as to be seen, 
 but an owl, roosting in an old oak, scared by the ftiU of 
 some stones loosened in his ascent from the ravine, uttered 
 her dismal cry as she flew from her hiding-place, and thrice 
 encircled it with sullen wing. The hideous cries of the dl- 
 omcned bird seemed to affect the stranger, for he shud-
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 231 
 
 dered, and, in a low accent, bewailed the necessity which, 
 had brought him to that spot. Then, as if struggling with 
 himself, he muttered, "But this is the foUy of a boy; 
 should I not rather say of an old woman, by her wmter fire ? 
 Let me see, this must be the path. Ah! dark with the 
 ai'butus which I helped to plant when I was a boy. 
 Changed times, indeed, alas, alas !" Some distrust of his 
 purpose — some remorse or forethought it might be— was in 
 the doleful manner in which the man nuirmured those sad 
 words — -"alas, alas !" but if his purpose was evil, and his 
 conscience awakened to a single pang, he si^eedily lulled it 
 into silence, for he remembered that one of the park gates 
 was near, and trod cautiously, lest the dried leaves beneath 
 his feet, crisp with the frost, should emit a soimd. Once, as 
 he emerged from the dense thickets, amid which was con- 
 cealed that entrance to the manor-house which he sought, 
 he cast his eyes towards heaven, and, as he perceived the 
 glorious stars glittering by millions in the dark blue arch 
 above huii, thoughts of his youth — of the better time which' 
 he had once known — thronged thick upon his memoiy; 
 thoughts of those who, to aU human judging, were ti'uly 
 innocent and good, who were connected mth him by the 
 ties of blood or old friendships, and who had been called 
 to their reckordng in years long gone; and, with these 
 thoughts, came one that, for a moment, shook the firnmess 
 of his guilt. He thought how if the enfranchised spirits of 
 those blessed ones, inhabitants of some " bright, particrdar 
 star," were cognizant yet of the deeds and destiny of those 
 still shackled with the mortal coil, whom they had known 
 and loved on earth. Coidd the gentle mother— ^he who 
 had softened, while she lived, even his rugged nature, or the 
 sweet sister ho had so deeply wronged, or the beautifid 
 wife whose heart he had broken ; could these look down 
 from theii' dwelling in the heavens upon him, and upon his 
 deeds, woidd they not grow sad amid thcii" supernal happi- 
 ness — would they not mourn to know how he was placing 
 between their spirits and his O'wn a gi'eat gidf, wider than 
 that which separated Dives and Lazarus of old. The man
 
 232 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 pitied hmiself at tliis tliought— lie wept for liimself, not for 
 Ids siiis, but for the pTmiskment whicli lie felt mtist be their 
 due, for that man was not an atheist, either practical or ar- 
 gumentire ; beheving, he woidd act as though he beheved 
 not ; he had set up the vile demon Mammon for his god, and 
 truly that devil had proved a hard taskmaster, and had 
 crushed the head of his votarj' into the dust. Yet a mo- 
 ment had the gleaming of the bright stai'S turned that man's 
 soul to better thoughts, and the white wings of his guardian 
 angel fluttered gently, for there was a hope that he would 
 pause ere he bomid himself to Moloch as well as Mammon. 
 But, even as he turned his ej-es from the contemplation of 
 the bright heavens, he beheld the dwelling which contained 
 the man whom he was that night seeking in the utmost 
 bitterness and hate, suggestions of the evil ones became 
 more potent, and the white angel abandoned him for ever. 
 
 The stranger stood now beneath the walls of the house. 
 An old fantastic building it was, built i^artly of stone, 
 partly of old red brick, the portion which was built of stone 
 being the oldest of aU— a kind of wing which time had 
 spared from some ancient fabric to which the more modem 
 residence had been somewhat clumsily attached. It was 
 beneath the walls of this oldest portion of the house that 
 the stranger stood. Through the thick curtains dra-nn 
 athwart the M'indows he perceived that one of the chambers 
 overlooking the park was hghted up. 
 
 "Ay," he muttered between his shut teeth, "it is as I 
 have heard — the shallow profligate ! so he does keep that 
 dull old room for the scene of his orgies, and as he holds it 
 80 secret and secure, doubtless he will keep the papers 
 there. The door, now — the door by which I have so often 
 crept into the house at hours when I cared not that the old 
 man should know I was abroad — must be here still. He, 
 too, is ignorant of it. Oh ! w retched, thoughtless fool, woe 
 to thee for the secrets whicli thou hast learned !" 
 
 "VMule muttering thus to himself, at broken intervals, the 
 man cautiouslj' groped his way among the trees and shrubs 
 which grew close up to this portion of the building, then
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 233 
 
 felt along the wall itself. A very faint and uncertain light 
 was emitted by the glimmering stars, but his eyes were ac- 
 customed to the obscuritj-, and he ■^^■as aided in finding the 
 door he sought by a previous knowledge of the place. To 
 casual observers, however, the wall would have seemed 
 without inlet, but in one spot it had a slab of stone some- 
 what larger than the rest. 
 
 Against this stone the man firmly pressed his shoulder, 
 leaning the whole weight of his body against it. Slo-^ly it 
 yielded to the pressure, and, as it receded, discovered a dark, 
 narrow passage, constructed in the wall of the house ; that 
 portion of ■nhich had been erected in troublous times, wliich 
 made such a secret mode of egress or ingress necessary. 
 The existence of tliis passage was, however, imknown to Sir 
 Hany "\'"ere ; if he could have known ai hat deadly enemy 
 was aware of it, how would he have closed and sealed it up, 
 guarded it like the spring of life itself. 
 
 'No whisper, no note of impending ill, however, was 
 vouchsafed to him; his good angel had deserted him, too; 
 and there he sat with his abandoned, crafty, female com- 
 panion, discussing wicked plots, planning the destruction of 
 innocence, even to the casting a blight upon the whole exist- 
 ence of a young and defenceless woman, at that moment 
 held a prisoner in the house. And no compunction visited 
 the breast of the profligate Sir Hany ; he lai;ghed, and 
 jeered, and mocked at the name of honesty and honour, and 
 exulted in the remembrance of the tears and praj-ers of the 
 poor, so lately poui-ed forth in vain, and thought not how 
 destniction imijcnded over his head, restrained by a tkread 
 more fragile than that wliich held the sword of Damocles. 
 
 Slowlj', softly, like the constrictor sliding from the 
 branches on its heedless prey, did the enemy of Sir Harry 
 creep towards the room in which he sat ; and now his ear 
 is laid against the oaken wainscot, and he drinks in every 
 word that is uttered. 
 
 She bore the fonn of woman, too — the wretch who sat 
 with the libertine Sir Hany, discussing designs too odious 
 to be dwelt upon. Dark, and beyond redemption, had been
 
 23i 
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 the crimes of the man who lurked behind the wainscot : 
 dark, and beyond redemption, was the crime he contem- 
 plated in that very hour. But his breast heaved with such 
 a loathing as even virtue might have felt to hear woman's lips 
 coimsel woman's i-uin ; to find the vilest imaginings of the 
 vile man outdone, by the suggestions of the still viler 
 woman. Once he put his hand impatiently in his breast, 
 but the darkness Avhere he stood was so dense, that he 
 could not himself see the glittering of the large, sharp knife 
 which he di-ew forth. Still closer he bent down his ear, 
 then, con-ecting the impulse that had raised his arm, he 
 returned the deadly weapon to its sheath, and his position 
 was pamful ; scarcely did he dare to move hand or foot lest 
 he should be heard ; the closet in which he stood, had often 
 in its time concealed the fugitive, priest, the cavaher, or 
 Jacobite ; caution was as necessary to his gmlt as it ever 
 had been to their danger, and valorously did he bear with 
 the pain and constraint of his position. The conversation 
 of the pair witliin the room tanght him all that he wished 
 to know : at last, it approached its termination. 
 
 '• ^S'ow I must leave you, Sir Harrs'," said the woman ; 
 "j'ou know I have quite a journey to perform to-night; I 
 would not for the world lose the meeting with Lord Langley. 
 I will return after seeing out that sweet piece of vengeance, 
 and learn how you fare with yours." 
 
 The hand of the man hidden behind the wainscot again 
 crept towards the knife m liis breast, and he listened with 
 suspended breath to the reply of Sir Harrj-. He wanted to 
 persuade the female to remain for the night at Heathcote ; 
 but she answered with a hght laugh — 
 
 " How can you ask me to remain here. Sir Hairy ! have 
 you not to entertain your charming captive ? Besides, do j-ou 
 think I can trifle with the glory of winning Lord Langley 
 from his most peerless bride !" 
 
 Sir Harrj' would then have offered her the services of his 
 valet as a protection ; but she laughed again, and reminding 
 him that slie ^vas a woman who covdd well protect herself, 
 and used to lonely travelling by night and day, he suffered
 
 IILLIAS DAVENANT. 235 
 
 licr to depart. She possessed, it seemed, the kej^ of the 
 rustic gate. Sir Harry's foe had not ventured to make an 
 entrance there, not knowing whether a servant was in the 
 lodge attached to it. Sir Harry suffered her to withcbaw, 
 and when he retui-ned towards the fire, he threw himself 
 into a chair, with his back towards the wainscot concealing 
 his enemy. This the latter saw ; for he had taken the 
 opi)ortiuiity of Sir Hany accompanying Marion Grej^ to 
 the ante-chamber slightly to open the panel, which would 
 give admission to the room, the next moment he entered it. 
 He did not remain there more than five minutes, and hur- 
 I'i'hiS back thi'ough the dark secret passages, which were so 
 well known to him, that he needed no light to guide him, 
 he gained the exterior of the mansion, and reached the 
 rustic gate iu the pai-k some minutes before Marion Grey 
 arrived there. The completion so far of his object, had 
 stiri'ed up a mad excitement in the man ; he di'ew into the 
 shadow of the taU trees that grew ]:)y the gate — he could 
 hear the wild throbl)ing of his heart, and he thi'ust his hand 
 into his breast, and clutched his own flesh with a cruel gripe, as 
 if that would still the beatings, which he feared the woman 
 might hear as she approached. And should she not come — • 
 should she, after aU, choose another path, or turn back to 
 speak again with Sir Harry, his purpose half exec\ited 
 would, indeed, confoimd him. He hstened in such an 
 agony as he had never yet known, for her approaching 
 steps ; and the leafless branches waved by the night wind, 
 seemed to bring strange voices to his ears, and strange and 
 hideous shapes seemed to flit and hover round him. She 
 comes, at last; the five minutes he has waited have dragged 
 through, with the weight and anguish of as man.y years. 
 Heedless of aU danger, she comes. She places the key iu 
 the lock of the park-gate ; she has opened it now and is 
 passing through, when a strong arm drives her suddenly 
 forwards, and the next moment she is extended athwart the 
 bridge; a man kneeling over her, his hand covering her 
 mouth stifles her cries. Yeiy faintly in her agony, and in 
 the dim hght does she discover his countenance; the features
 
 236 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 of whicli, liowever, seem familiar, But Ids vengeance would 
 be only half complete, did she not know whose hand it is 
 that lies so heavily upon her. 
 
 "Fiend! fury !" he cried, gnashing his teeth as he spoke, 
 " was the labour of years, were aU my hopes in life, to be 
 destroyed by you !" 
 
 There was an insane hatred in the rage, Avith which again 
 and again he stabbed, what was now a senseless coi'pse ; 
 and it was less, perhaps, with a view of concealing the 
 hideous deed, than as a last expression of his vejigeance, 
 that he hurled the bod3' of Marion Grej^ sheer over the 
 rustic bridge into the gulf that yawned below.
 
 LIllIAS DATENANT. 237 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 " Tliou liast a tale shut up 
 ■\Vithin the hollow chamber of tliy breast, 
 To make avenging falcliions bristle earth." 
 
 Calaynos. 
 
 In a secluded chamber of tliat ancient portion of the manor- 
 house of Heathcoate, where Sir Harry Vere liad entertained 
 Marion Grey, was confined that weary female captive, of whose 
 impiisonment tlie wortldess companions had discoui'sed. On 
 the evening referred to, the captive sat iai her usual despond- 
 ing attitude, at a casement overlooking the park, on ^^liich her 
 eyes ceaselesslj' rested, as though she hoped to obtain release 
 by means of some person approaching the house. A vain 
 hope, however, this seemed, for the portion of the mansion 
 where she was imprisoned was, as before observed, the most 
 ancient and secluded, overlooking a wild portion of the i^ark, 
 the gardens l.^'ing on the other side of the house ; nor did 
 any one commonly approach this portion of the mansion 
 save the sei-A'ants and dependants of Sir Hariy Vere. It 
 should be observed, also, that having been but newl^- repos- 
 sessed of the house, the onlj" servants he had there were a 
 man and woman left in charge of the house when he was 
 absent, his valet, and French cook, all devoted creatures of 
 liis OM'n. The weary capti^'e, however, knew not this ; and 
 there she sat hour after hour, vainly watching for rehef ; in 
 the desperation of her dislTcss, she had thought of escaping 
 from the window, though its height from the ground was so 
 great, that such an attempt must have been made at the 
 l)eril of her life. But this expedient had been guarded 
 against by her jailers. Wears', anxious days, nights in 
 which she dared not laj' aside her dress, and started in 
 terror if worn-out nature made her eyelids di-oop— with
 
 238 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 dress and liair disordered, ej-es sunk and kear^^ with 
 watching and m eepiug— the appearance of Lihias Davenant, 
 for she was that helpless prisoner— woxdd have terrified her 
 friends, could thej- have seen her. VvTaen first seized andplaced 
 in the carriage on Hampstead-heath, Lillias had fainted. 
 On recovering her senses, she found herself still -nhirled 
 rapidly along ; the man who had captured her was holding 
 a bottle of some strong essence to her nose. The person 
 of this man was wholly unknown to Lillias, but he did not 
 suffer her to remain in ignorance by whose orders he acted— 
 informing her that he was the confidential attendant of Sir 
 Harry Yere, who had employed him to convey her to his 
 mansion at Heathcote. '\"ainly did LiJhas weep and unplore 
 this wretch to set her free ; vainly did she hope that, in the 
 course of the journey to Heathcote, she woidd be able to 
 make known how she was being forcibly carried off. The 
 plan of Sir Harry Vere had been too well constructed. 
 Instead of conveying her by the raU into Derbyshire, the 
 valet took post-horses to the carriage, and, choosing inns 
 remote from the pviblic road for refreshment, assured the 
 persons that kept them, that Lillias was his rmiaway wife, 
 whom he was convening back to liis dwelling in the countiy. 
 The plausible tongue and respectable appearance of the man, 
 caused this storj^ to pass current: the more so, as he took 
 care that LUlias shoidd have but few oppoi-timities of 
 speaking A\-ith any person during their short pauses for rest 
 and refreshment. His manners towards her on the journey 
 were insufferably insidting ; and as the caiTiage finally 
 drove through the park at Heathcote, he seized her hand 
 and protested that he did repent of having conveyed so much 
 beauty and fascination into the power of his master. " But 
 tlien, you see, sweetest Miss Davenant, "added the wretch," I 
 am but a poor man, and cannot afford to dispense with Sir 
 Harry at present ; but should he become too annoying, you 
 may depend upon me as a friend. I have saved a little 
 money, and think I could make an EngUsh hotel answer at 
 Home or Paris, especially with such a sweet lady English
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 239 
 
 wife; so you will imderstand ui^on what terms my friendskip 
 will be pm'chascd." 
 
 To tliis^ speecli, delivered with a freedom of tone and 
 words wliieli added tenfold to its insolence, Lillias did not 
 vouclisafe a reply. She was, on alighting from the can-iage, 
 immediately sho^n to her chamber, and her attempt to con- 
 cUiate the female attendant who conducted her thither, met 
 with a harsh repulse. 
 
 Sir Hany Yere an-ived at Heathcote the same evening as 
 Lillias, and commenced, in his fii-st interview with her, a 
 senes of persecutions which made her think all the evils she 
 had hitherto known were but trifling in comparison. The 
 jibing, sueei-iug tone, too,which he adopted aggravated the in- 
 solence and A-illany of his conduct ; the perfect coolness with 
 which he informed Lillias of the measm-es wliich he had 
 taken to secm-e the success of his odious schemes, was, at 
 the same time, more imtating and more fi-ightfid than the 
 utmost violence of language and manners. On that after, 
 noon of his mterview with Marion Grey, Sir Hany Vere 
 had dwelt upon such taunts as these to an extent that almost 
 led Lilhas to the surmise, that some deadly and old hatred 
 must be the cause of his conduct ; some imagined offence, 
 springing, not from her, for tUl their meeting in the house 
 of her imcle the man had been unknown to her, but 
 from some old family offence, the som-ce of which she coidd 
 not divine. Sir Harry was, too, she found, acquainted 
 with her recent engagements with Lord Langley, and the 
 manner in which they had been broken off; and there was 
 a meanness of malice in his repeatedly reminding her that, 
 after all. Lord Langlej' had chosen her cousin for liis bride, 
 and that she herself was in Ids power. Especially, too, did 
 Sir Hany exult in the fine old-fashioned style in wliich he 
 had seized upon the lady of his love. " Doubtless, sweet 
 Lillias," he said, in that conversation which he had with her 
 on the evening of his interview with Marion Grey, '" doubt- 
 less j'ou were a little startled when my faithfid Merton first 
 laid hands on you ; you had not hoped for so romantic an
 
 240 LILLIA9 DAVENANT. 
 
 episode iu yoiir life, and doubtless tliouglit tliat tlie da3'S 
 wlicu ladies were carried off" by oiFeuded lovers, were ba- 
 nished and gone. Ob, I pique myself on the romance of my 
 project ; and I must tell you, gentle LiUias, tbat my designs 
 are somewhat altered ; it is as my bride I vi-ould claiin you — 
 as Lady Vere I woidd present you to the world. Surely, 
 now, you will not be so hard-hearted, so unjust to yourself, 
 as well as to me, as to reject this proposal. My bride, I 
 think, woidd fairly bear away the bell from the pretty doll 
 who is called Lady Langlej' : and though I have not a co- 
 ronet to offer you, gentle Lillias, I have, at least, a name 
 unscathed b}- slander ; which is more than can be said, I as- 
 sure you, for that of the heu' of Lord Dajlsford." 
 
 " I thank you. Sir Harrj' , for this change in your inten- 
 tions," said Lillias ; " at the same time I must beg to add, 
 that my sentiments toward.s you are not now, nor are ever 
 likely to be, such as I should deem it necessary to feel for 
 the man I might choose for my husband ; besides that, there 
 would, I think, be httle delicacy in entering into another 
 engagement so soon after the dissolution of my promises to 
 Lord Langlej'." 
 
 "Oh, mj' sweet Lillias!" rephed Sir Harry, ''if I dis- 
 pense with fine feehngs on that score, it should matter not 
 to the rest of the world ; and I can assure you, that in the 
 full confidence that you would honour me with your hand, 
 I have ab'eady purchased the maniage hcence, and will 
 send for a clergyman so soon as it suits your sweet pleasiu'e 
 that I should do so." 
 
 " There is little coiu"age or manhness. Sir Harrj' "^^ere, in 
 thus insulting a defenceless woman," said LiUias ; " but the 
 oppressor can never be the object of love. If I could at 
 any time resoh'e to become your wife, it would be Avhen, as 
 a free agent, I could become so, not while I am lield a 
 l^risoner in your house." 
 
 "Ah, gentle LiUias!" replied Su' Harry, "your pride is 
 too fantastical ; it misleads you. You must, however, allow 
 me now to talk a httle common sense, and show you the pre- 
 cise nature of your present position. You are, you say, an
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 241 
 
 luiwilliug prisoner Lere : well, I grant that 30U are so ; but 
 supposing that I were so foolishl.y chiA-ah-ous as this moment 
 to set you free, what think you would be your position with 
 the world ? who would believe such a romantic story as you 
 woidd have to tell? A tale of abduction m the present day, 
 and that then the treacherous lover, of his own accord, set 
 the captive free ! Ah ! this tale might gain credence, it may 
 be, with my very excellent and philosophic cousin, or, pos- 
 sibly, with his admirable mother, but it would not tell well 
 with that harsh matter-of-fact world which, ha\'ing chosen 
 to impose not the best of characters on me, will look bvit 
 coolly on any fan* lady who has been known to be in my 
 power, and yet dares face its censures in any other character 
 than that of my wife." 
 
 There was a cold, cruel sarcasm in the tone and looks of 
 Sir Harry, as he uttered these words, which reminded 
 Lillias of her first interview with him, in the house of her 
 uncle, and, if possible, deepened her detestation of him. 
 She was about indignantly to express her feelings, but he 
 interrupted her. 
 
 " Spare yourself the utterance of any more bitter words, 
 Bweet LiUias ; for as assuredly as that you will one day be 
 my wife, so surely shall I then find the hour of vengeance 
 for your scorn !" 
 
 Lilhas crept to her old seat at the window, when Sir 
 HaiTy had left the room, locking the door behind him, and 
 gazed despairingly over the prospect beyond, with yet a 
 vague hope of seeing some person who might assist her. 
 The audacity of Sir Harry Vcre made even her bold spirit 
 quail; there was a frightful truth in what he said— her 
 reputation was indeed ia his power. 
 
 The red lines of the winter sunset were slowly falling in 
 the west, when Lilhas, who, with a kind of insane expec- 
 tation, kept her post at the window, fancied she beheld 
 some more substantid object than the gi-cy mists of even- 
 ing moving among a clump of giant oaks which dii-ectly 
 faced it ; and, oh, how joyfully did her heart bound as she 
 perceived the figm-c of a man stealthily advance, taking
 
 242 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 advantage, ai^parently, of every tliicket or tree "wliicli iniglit 
 screen liis approach, from observation. He came, in the 
 cad, straight iip to the wiadow, and perceiving LUhas sta- 
 tioned at it, waved his hand for her to withdraw, and held 
 lip a small i)arcel, which it seemed his uitention to throw. 
 She accordingly retu'ed, and the next miaute a stone, round 
 which "nas wrapped a piece of writing i^aper, came crashing 
 through the glass. With a throbbing heart, Lillias picked 
 it up : it contained only a few words : — 
 
 " Though not known to you, I am in the employ of your 
 best friends, whom I have informed of your present peril. I 
 trust they will be here to-night, ■with, the power of the law 
 to rescue you ; but should my intelhgence not reach them 
 in time— should you not be released before eleven o'clock, 
 try and move the bed in your chamber, there is a door 
 behind it, which will conduct you to apartments to which I 
 may be able to obtain access." 
 
 LUhas approached the window so soon as she had read 
 this billet, with the intention of in some mode expressing- 
 her thanks, but the person who had delivered it was gone. 
 Eustace Vere, Tracy — those were the only friends of whom 
 Lillias had Imo^iedge ; but the first was far away, and the 
 last, she feared, had been finally estranged by her iU-fated 
 engagement ■nith Lord Langley. 
 
 Eight ! nine ! ten !— dismally had the note that told the 
 hoiu'S reveberatcd through the wide galleries and spacious 
 chambers of Hcathcoto, penetrating even to that where 
 Lillias Bat in lonely expectation of release ; and still, as the 
 evening waned into the stdl night, did she fancy that she 
 heard human voices mingle with the wailing winds, or the 
 ■withdi-awal of ))olts, and the approach of steps towards her 
 prison chamber. 
 
 Eleven o'clock struck— that hour when her friend had 
 said he woidd himself attempt her release ; long before, she 
 had drawn away the small modern bedstead from the door 
 which his letter had mentioned, and now, finding it unlocked, 
 she passed through it, and entered a spacious apartment 
 which had not apparently been used for some time. Another
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 243 
 
 smaller room, siniilar to her bedcliambcr, was bej^ond tbis ; 
 and beneath the crevice of an inner door LHlias perceived a 
 ray of hght, such as might i^rocced from A^ithin. She hesitated 
 a moment, Mhether to open this door, but her position coidd 
 not be worse, and she gentlj'tvu'ned the handle, and gained ad- 
 mittance to a large andbrUhantly lighted chamber; all there 
 was quiet ; not a sound heard beyond the -nading of the wmd, 
 and the hissiug flames of the ] ai-ge fire. With a trcmbhng step 
 Ldlias advanced, and then perceived a gentleman rechning 
 in a large chair near the fire, as if asleep. Sometliing strange 
 in the attitude, however, iuduced her to ventiu'e closer, 
 and then a hideous spectacle presented itself, for there lay 
 Sir Haiiy Vere, his head almost separated from the body, 
 and the chair on which he reclined, the floor around him, 
 floated with blood. 
 
 One wild haiTOwing shriek burst from the hps of LiUias, 
 as she simk senseless on the floor. Long was she held, as 
 if even in the clasp of death, by that fearfid swoon, yet 
 amidst it she was indistinctly conscious of the sound of 
 crashing doors, and rmmy feet, and many voices around 
 her ; and once, a^ hen the mist partially dispersed, she was 
 conscious of being clasped to the bosom of Gerald Tracy, 
 while, beside him, with an anxious countenance, stood 
 Eustace Vere. 
 
 B
 
 244 LILLIAS DAVEIJ^AKT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIII. 
 
 " When I left home, I felt I'd ne'er retui-n, 
 All things appeared so mournful to my view ; 
 The old trees shook their dark gi-een heads above, 
 And waved their branches, as if taking leave." 
 
 Calaynos. 
 
 Ill-oiiexed had been the bridal of Lord Langley aiid 
 Genevieve Milhnan ; iU-omened, where fear instead of love 
 filled the heart of the bride — and loathing was in that of her 
 lord. Ko smiling faces, neither, of gi-acious friends and 
 relatives at the nuptials ; but instead, the lowering brow 
 of Sir Gabriel, and the frigid courtesy of the stately earl. 
 JSTeither Frederick Mdlman nor Edward Langley had been 
 present at the ceremony- ; and when they departed on their 
 bridal journey. Lord Langley did not even condescend to 
 conceal his contempt for his bride. 
 
 Day b}' day, on then- arrival at Beechgrove, did he sally 
 out with his fowhng-piece ; but it must liave been merely 
 his excuse for avoiding the society of his ■wife ; for an old 
 and attached servant had with tears told his compa- 
 nions that he feared for his joung lord, for though he 
 wandered through the woods with his gun upon Lis 
 shoulder, it Avas not in pursuit of game ; and that he knew, 
 too, tliat Lord Langley sometimes met in those woods a 
 tail, beautiful woman, to whose charms old GUbert attri- 
 buted the young man's indifference to his bride. 
 
 And she — the loni, dcsiiised one, sold to such sad es" 
 pousals, condemned for ever to the winter of the heart— she 
 steals softly from lier i)roud solitaiy halls into the cold 
 ■winter air, creeping like a ghost tlu'ough the mists of the 
 chiU evening, with her black mantle, thro^'u like a mouiii-
 
 LIIXIA8 DAVENANT, 245 
 
 ing vesture over her ^\ kite bridal garments ; well miglit slie 
 mourn, in wearinu; as she wore it the vestui*e of a bride. 
 
 The old serv'ant had marked and pitied the desolate 
 condition of that gentle and beautiful creature, and grieved 
 to see that liis young lord did not love her; and at a 
 distance he followed her from the mansion, and saw that 
 she bent her steps to'n'ards the Lover's Tower. The old 
 man was returning home, when he perceived Lord Lang- 
 ley, his gun resting against a tree beside liim, whilst 
 he seemed endeavouring, by the waning light, to read a 
 letter wliich he held in his hand. Suddenly, he crushed the 
 paper together, and letting it fall, seized his gun, and with 
 furious haste pursued the direction which his wife had so 
 lately taken. 
 
 Something seemed to knock at the heart of old Gilbert, 
 as he lost sight of his lord among the trees, and whisper 
 that miscliief was abroad ; connected, too, with Lady Lang- 
 ley's visit to the Lover's Tower, and the paper which he 
 had seen her husband drop. Trembling for what seemed a 
 breach of trust, he hastened to pick up the paper, but it was 
 almost dark, and his weak eyes could not decipher the 
 writing ; still he seemed more certain that A\Titten paper 
 contained some evil news ; and thrusting it into his bosom, 
 he too sped as swiftly as his feebleness would permit 
 towards the tower. As he climbed the hill on which it 
 stood, he saw Lord Langley standing just within the ruins, 
 and two persons a little in advance of him, from whose ob- 
 servation he was howe^■er screened bj' a buttress of the ruin. 
 
 In one of those persons the servant recognised Lady 
 Langley ; and even amid the increasing darkness, and 
 failing as was his sight, he perceived the glitter of the 
 gold epaulettes on the shoulders of her companion, from 
 whicli a large cloak had partly follen, and -with a spasm of 
 fear that he could not account for, remembered also how he 
 had been told, a day or two before, that ]\Ir. Edward had 
 entered the armjs and was about to go abroad with his 
 regiment. 
 
 The old man endeavoured to quicken his steps ; it might
 
 246 LILLIAS DAVENAlfT. 
 
 be even in his little power to prevent harm, and the very- 
 stillness of Lord Langley frightened hirn; and Ids fi-iglit 
 in spite of him elackened his pace — his knees seemed sinking 
 under him. 
 
 Kow, too, Genevieve tiu'ned as if she would leave her com- 
 panion ; but he passionatelj' gi'asped her hand, seeming as if 
 he woidd not part with it. Then as Lord Langlej- made a 
 quick movement, the evening mists seemed to tliicken before 
 the old man's ej'es ; yet he heard Genevieve shriek, saw her 
 tlu'ow up her arms, and fall side by side with her husband. 
 \vhile the report of the fowling-piece mingled with the ciy 
 she had uttered. 
 
 Ah, miserable old man ! if his poor limbs had sped him 
 to the scene but a minute sooner, perhaps, so he thought, 
 this horrible catastrophe, had been prevented. A^Tiat a 
 scene ! Lord Langley and his bride of a month stretched 
 senseless on the gi'oimd, bathed in blood — Edward tearing 
 his hair, raxing like a maniac, calling Heaven to witness 
 how innocent had been his farewell of the lost love, who 
 was the bride of his brother. Then waihng and lamenting 
 over the disfigured corse of that brothei-, upbraiding Heaven 
 and Genevieve, whose hand had turned aside from him the 
 deadly weapon to level its contents at liis brother's life. 
 
 Often dm'iug the few years that remained to hun woidd 
 old Gilbert speak of that fearfid night, and shaking his grey 
 loclis, say he knew not how he reached the mansion, but 
 tlmt it seemed to hun as if one minute he stood alone with 
 Edward, beside the corpse of Lord Langley, and the next 
 had about liini a crowd of people engaged in bearing 
 towards Beechgrove the bodies of the young man and his 
 bride, and in restraining the maniac frenzy of Edward. 
 
 The nature of the catastrophe was afterwards more clearly 
 understood; the blood which covered the tbess of Gene- 
 vieve did notsprmg only from her husband's mortal woimd. 
 Her health had been for some time failing; her frame 
 was always delicate ; and in her horror— her agony— when, 
 flinging ui) her anus, she tm'ucd upon hhnself the weapon 
 which her husband had aimed at his brother's hfc, she had 
 burst a bloodvessel.
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 247 
 
 Lord Langlej- was quite dead — llio ball had passed tlirougb, 
 liis brain. As for tlie xxiiliappy wife, tlio attendants ^y]lo 
 first raised her, thought that she also was no more. The 
 only sign of life was the occasional bidjbling on her lips 
 of that crimson stream in which hfe ebbed awaj'. 
 
 Stiff, and cold, and stark, lay in the state chamber the corse 
 of Lord Langley, the wild ^viuds singing his dirge -nithout ; 
 the maniac cries of his brother, bound upon a couch of fire, 
 his ch'ear lament witliin. 
 
 The servants, pale as the sheeted dead themselves, stole 
 about on tiptoe, trembling to pass the chamber of the dead, 
 or i)utting up their hands in horror if bj' chance the cries 
 of the frenzied Edward met their ears. 
 
 Messengers had been despatched to London to the earl 
 and countess. Mr. Hanway, who had been sent for, 
 remained in the house ; and by a chance which the 
 servants at the time thought strangley opportune, about 
 midnight Su* Gabriel MiUman arrived at Beechgrove. Bu- 
 siness, he said, had compelled him to be in the vicuiitj^ 
 and he availed himself of that circimistance to visit hia 
 daughter. 
 
 The first pale rays of the winter sun were just creeping 
 into the chamber where Genevieve laj^, when she heaved a 
 sigh stronger than she had uttered dming the night, and 
 slightly moved her head ; then she laj' qiiite still ; and ]\Ir. 
 Hanwaj^, after holding her hand for a moment, gently laid 
 it by her side and turned from the bed — for the spiiit of 
 Genevieve had fled.
 
 248 LIITIAS DAVEyANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 - But at lianil, at hand, 
 
 Ensues his piteous and unpitied end. 
 
 Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
 
 To have him suddenly conveyed from hence." 
 
 Shakspere. 
 
 SiE Gabriel Miliman sat alone hy tlie corpse of liis 
 daughter. He did not weep— lie did not groan ; but tliere 
 was a hopelessness, an expression of despair, in his face, that 
 alarmed the attendants. It was, perhaps, about nine 
 o'clock ; but the mists of the cold winter morning inter- 
 cepted the sunbeams, and gathered round Beechgrove like 
 a funeral paU. This chill, rmcertaia winter light streamed 
 doubtfully on the couch where lay the dead form of her who 
 had alone awakened a human impulse in the heart of Sir 
 Gabriel Milhnan— for whose sake he had dared the worst of 
 crimes : and she was gone — ^ravished from him— cropped like 
 a flower of the field ! 
 
 The stiipor of misery possessed Sir Gabriel as he sat by 
 the couch of his dead child ; and twice one of the servants 
 had spoken to him, and touched him on the arm, ere he was 
 roused to the intelligence that some gentlemen had just 
 arrived at Beechgrove, who demanded to see him on busi- 
 ness of high import. The baronet impatiently waved his 
 hand ; he was about to say that he could see no one in the 
 first hours of his affliction, but as his eye fell on the card 
 wliicli lay on the silver salver which the servant presented 
 to him, his ashy Hps became, perhaps, a trifle paler— and he 
 said, hurriedly, " Yes, I wiU come— tell them I will come." 
 
 Tlio strange guests had been tLshered into the great 
 dining-room, and mauy surmises were formed among the
 
 LILLIAS DATENANT. 249 
 
 servants as to tlie cause of so large a party arriving at 
 Beechgrove before the time when the news of the catas- 
 trophe of the preceding evening would have brought to- 
 gether the coroner and the chosen jury. Two carriages had 
 brought this partj- to Beechgrove ; but among them was a 
 magistrate, resident midway between Beechgrove and 
 Heathcote, and much beloved in both neighbourhoods for 
 his kind heart and upright character. The servant who 
 saw Sir Marmaduke Conj'ers descend from the carriage, 
 noted liis white locks and mild aspect ; for it was this gentle- 
 man who inquired for Sir Gabriel : nevertheless, it was not 
 liis card that was sent in. 
 
 Sir Gabriel made a gi'eat show of courage as he entered 
 the room where the visitors were awaiting him ; his step 
 was fu'm, and his head erect. At a rapid glance he took in 
 the persons present. There were Sir Marmaduke Conyers, 
 and two other gentlemen of influence and character in the 
 county ; there was Eustace Vere, standing apart from the 
 rest, with his amis folded aud liis eyes cast down, looking 
 as if the scene was one from which he would have been 
 thankful to be absent ; there was a pale, broken-down man, 
 looking half poacher and half gipsy ; there was the person 
 who had conducted Sir Gabriel to his last interview with 
 Tracy ; and there also was Tracy himself. In the very 
 gathering together of those persons Sir Gabriel seemed to 
 read his destiny ; but he did not blench — he i^ossessed in 
 that hour the firmness of a man who is past hope. With 
 folded anns he approached Tracy, and, slightl}- bowing, he 
 said — 
 
 " This is not well done, "VYilfeid Davenant ! I have 
 ever believed mj-self there was a destiny in the affairs of 
 men, and concede that the current of my fortunes is now 
 upon the ebb ; but, oh ! AYilfrid, is it like the man of 
 honour and honesty-, which you have ever affected to be, to 
 pursue the fallen ? The ashes of my daughter are not yet 
 cold ! — alas ! it is not an hour since I felt her dying breath 
 upon my cheek ! — and I think that, in the first moments of 
 my affliction, even you might have spared me. Siu*ely it
 
 250 LILLIAS DAVEITANT. 
 
 would not liave injured tJic fortunes of your niece Lilliaa, if 
 you liad postponed calling me to account yet a little lonff<?r' 
 I should not have thought, Wilfrid, that you would have 
 been so merciless in .■\-our revenge !" 
 
 " Sir Gabriel MUhnan," answered Mr. Davenant, in a 
 voice which had. in it more of pity than of anger, " I shall 
 not at this moment deviate fi*om the course I have hitherto 
 pursued, -which has been one of mercy, and not of revenge. 
 It is a feehng of compassion for your family that brings me 
 with my friends hither to-da3^ Oh, Sir Gabriel ! it needs 
 not for those whom you have injured to raise a finger 
 against you ; for with your own hands you have worked 
 their revenge. You are entangled in the tods of j-our sin ! 
 — your fear of justice has invoked the hand of justice on 
 j'our head. You apprehended, possibly, that I intended to 
 call you to account for the purchase of the poison which her 
 ill-fated husband. Christian Bering, administered to my 
 unhappy sister. 
 
 " Not for worlds would I have disturbed the sacred ashea 
 of mj^ sweet Mabel. Besides I remembered that the angel 
 mother of my darHng nieces was alKed by the nearest ties 
 of blood to j'ou. Shame enough it is to my poor Lillias that 
 her mother's brother should figure before the world as a 
 swindler and a thief! I ^ould have hidden from the public, 
 and from her, the blood-spots, also, which were on your 
 soul. I take it as a just pimishment of that false honour, on 
 my part, that, to avoid conviction of j^our connivance in the 
 death of Mabel, you should have again dipped your hands 
 in Ijlood. Oh, miserable fool, how incautiousl.y, with all 
 yoiu' cunning, have you acted. Should 3-0U not have asked 
 yovirsclf, when Marion Grey visited you in company with 
 Sir Harry Vere, how it was that she became acquainted 
 with the circumstances attending the death of Maljel ? You 
 know tlmt after assisting you to forge the bills AA'hich ruined 
 your first employer, Mr. Tracy, she went to America ; did 
 you suppose that I Ijrought her back to England, or that if 
 she chanced to cross my path, I should make known to 
 such a woman the fate of my beloved sister ? Oh, it seems
 
 LILLIA8 DAVENANT, 251 
 
 tliat the hand of Providence itself was indeed working 
 when it made that, the bUiclcest crime of your life, known 
 to jNIariou Grey. I A\ill toll you how it happened : Marion 
 wearied of her exile, and the proceeds of her vices enabled 
 her to return to England ; there, b.y chance, she quartered 
 lierself near the mad-house m vihich for so many years my 
 uufortmiate brothcr-m-law was coufuied. His reason was 
 restored to hini, his health improved ; and your avarice, 
 smce you paid the small stii^end which kept liini in the 
 liouse, made you very willing that he should be released. 
 How little did you apprehend that, a week after he left the 
 asyhun, he became the husband of Marion Grey, to whom, 
 in his sorrow and remorse, he confided, from time to time, 
 the whole liistory of his first wife ; telling her how you led 
 me into transactions which impHcated my brother's fortune, 
 and dish'essed my 0'>m; how yoiu* maUce was stUl not 
 content till j'ou had lui-ed me into excesses which deprived 
 me of my commission ; and then, when my dear Mabel was 
 the only person left who woidd assist me in my poverty 
 and distress, you cajoled her husband ■«"ith the behef that 
 she received the visits of a lover in those of her forlorn 
 brother, and how, in his mad jealousy, he administered 
 to lier the poison v^hich you purchased — the result to 
 him being such jjositive insanity on his part that the 
 jury acquitted him, and you and the worthless Coun- 
 tess of Daylsford obtained what you intrigued for, 
 Mabel's sliare of the ninety thousand pounds, which her 
 uncle had divided equally among his three nieces, Eleanor 
 Ainslie, Mabel Davenant, and Clara Medwm, now ]\Irs. 
 Vere. On my return to England, my first care was to seek 
 out my brother-in-law, whom I found hving -nith Marion 
 imder the name of Marvel, and in great chstress. I 
 took them both under my protection ; and though I 
 resolved that the son of Eleanor Ainslie should not become 
 the husband of mj- niece, it was far from my thoughts to 
 bring you to the bar of justice as a murderer, when I 
 knew not how far you might uni^licate her name whom I 
 had once so fondly loved. Fidl money restitution for your
 
 2c2 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 
 
 victims I had iucleecl resolved to have ; and therefore was 
 it that I brought before you Eichard Henlej^, that old 
 servant of my brother-in-law, whom, having too much know- 
 ledge of the causes of Mabel's death, you imprisoned in the 
 mines of Cornwall." 
 
 Sh" Gabriel had spoken not a word thi'oughout this long 
 address, but now he wrung liis hands in speechless agony, 
 and raised his eyes despairingly-, as if accusing Heaven of 
 his fate. 
 
 The slovenly-looking man, half poacher, half gipsy, now 
 advanced, and said, "A weary coil is this, Sir Gabriel, 
 which you have woven to entrap yourself ; but give a rogue 
 rope enough, they say, and he is sui'e to twist it round his 
 own neck. You have turned so many poor men out of 
 their homes since you rained mine, that I dare say you have 
 forgotten John Acres, \^"hose father j-ou di'ove out of his 
 little fann, when you were steward to Sir Clement Vere, 
 and he was a lad. Ah ! that was before you went up to 
 London, and got acquainted mth Mrs. Marion Grey, or 
 Maria Marvel, as she called herself of late. Oh, she was a 
 bad one, though a fit companion for you; and it was in 
 her wickedness only she told me how she had helped Sir 
 Harry Vere to get his estate back, and engaged me to meet 
 her last night, just outside Heathcote Park, and come over 
 here to see the luck of the letter she sent Lord Langley. 
 Years had not cooled the temper and thoughts of Marion 
 Gre^^ ; and it seems she has roundly revenged herself on 
 the young lord, for his contempt of her love ; and you, Sir 
 Gabriel, well availed yom'self of your old knowledge of the 
 manor-house at Heathcote to be quits, as you thought, both 
 of Sir Hany and Marion Grey ; I had use of my know- 
 ledge of it, too, to rescue Miss Davenant." 
 
 " Tliis must not be," interposed Sir Mannaduke Conyers : 
 " Sir Gabriel may j-et be innocent of the hideous tragedy 
 l)erpeti'ated at Heathcote. I cannot allow you either to 
 enter into details which may lead liim to criminate himself, 
 or, if lie be guilty, too well inform him of the nature of the 
 ju'oofs against him."
 
 LILLIAS DAVENANT. 253 
 
 Sir Gabriel looked up at these words : tlieu lie rose from 
 his chair, but staggered like one intoxicated. 
 
 " I pray you, gentlemen," he said, in a very low imploiing 
 voice, " allow me once more to look upon the face of my dear 
 child, then I wiU accompany yoii Avhere you please, that you 
 may pursiie those inquiries ; 'tis scarce decorous, I submit, 
 to carry them on in the house of the Earl Daylsford, where 
 he is momentarily expected, and ■nhere his son is Ij'ing 
 dead." 
 
 No objection was made to this proposal of Sir Gabriel, 
 and two of the persons present accompanied him to the 
 door of the room in which Genevieve lay. The old ser- 
 vant, Gilbert, was there, and two -nomen, who had per- 
 formed the last sad duties about the remains of the hapless 
 bride. They drew aside at the approach of the miserable 
 father who, kneeling c1o\\ti by the corpse, repeatedly kissed 
 the pale lips, the icy hands ; then he drew a miniature from 
 his breast, and seemed to comi^are the features, as they had 
 been in life, with those of the still form before hun. 
 
 The attendants after\Aards said, that as he again bent his 
 head over the corpse they heard a sHght click, like the 
 snappmg of a watch-chain. As he still continued, however, 
 with his head resting on the cold bosom of his daughter 
 they presently approached him, but the unfortunate Gene- 
 vieve herself was not more removed from hmnan suffering 
 than was her guilty father. Some potent poison had been 
 concealed in the back of the miniature, and smcide had 
 terminated the career of Sir Gabriel MiUman.
 
 254 LILLIAS DAVENANt. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 " It is a joy to recompense all sorrows, 
 That ever I have known." 
 
 Lear. 
 
 FiA^E years liavc rolled away ; the child Alice Daveuant is 
 budding into a beautiful woman ; her sister has long been 
 the happy wife of Sir Eustace Vere, who did not, however, 
 ventiu'e to own how passionately he loved LiUias, till many 
 months after the death of Lord Langley. 
 
 Along with Sir Eustace and LiUias, dwelt Mrs. Vere and 
 Wilfrid Davenant, and from that immense fortune which 
 Mr. Davenant had inlierited from the Moorish lady whom 
 he had married in Licha, he had, diu'ing his life, veiy richly 
 endowed liis ]iieces, while the whole residue of his wealth 
 >\'as to be divided between them after his decease ; an event 
 "\\lLich LiUias and Alice devoutly prayed might not happen 
 for many, many years. 
 
 The grun tjTant had, liowever, been busy since the mar- 
 riage of LiUias, among those -^Ahom she had knoT^^l ; Mr. 
 Dering, or Marvel, as he had been latterly called, had died 
 in one of the frequent fits of insanity^ to which he was stiU 
 subject. The Earl and Coimtess of Daylsford had also 
 died on the continent. Lady Emily had married a Gennau 
 nolileman. 
 
 The Corbetts Uved M'ith the usual measure of cai-e which 
 luihappily falls so largely to their class ; Mrs. Corbett ever 
 reproadiing herself with her conduct to her eldest daughter. 
 Tom Ilorton never returned to England. Though it was 
 not generally known that Sir Gabriel was the author of the 
 hideous tragedy at Ileathcote, his son Frederick could 
 not endure the discredit attached to the name of a man,
 
 lilLLIAS DAVENANT. 255 
 
 muck of whose depraved character had become inibhc. 
 With the residue of his father's foi-time he therefore emi- 
 gi-ated to America — -where Lilhas was pleased to hear that 
 he was Hviug hai^pOy, hi the superiutendence of a large 
 tract of land on the banks of the Delaware. 
 
 The Earl of Daylsford, too, formerly Edward Laugley, 
 has latel}'^ returned to England ; he is much in the society 
 of Su" Eustace and Lady Vere : and, it is whisx)ered, that in 
 a promised union -oith Ahce Davenant, he hopes to forget 
 the deep and bitter sorrows of his youth. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 SaviU & Edwards, Printers, Cliiindos-street Covcnt-garden.
 
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