A LOVER'S QUARREL: 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE COUNTY BALL. 
 
 THE ATJTHOB OP 
 "COUSIN OEOFFBEY," "MARRIED FOR LOVE," 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 : ' The rose we wear upon the heart, 
 Should have no thorn to wound us." 
 
 SIB E. BULWEB LYTTON. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURS'j. AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUUH STREET. 
 1858. 
 
 The rigJit of Translation reserved.
 
 . Billing, Printer, 103, llatton Garden, London, and Ouildford, Surrey.
 
 A LOVEE'S QUAEEEL, 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 "THE quarrels of lovers" are, according to 
 
 the old Latin proverb, " the renewal of love." 
 
 This popular but dangerous maxim, which every 
 
 boy imbibes with his Latin grammar, in the 
 
 words never quoted but with a smile, "Amantium 
 
 ira, &c. &c," he is almost sure to act upon, as 
 
 soon as he has found some heart, loving enough 
 
 to be pained by injustice, or piqued by caprice. 
 
 Nor is this readiness to follow the seductive 
 
 VOL. i. B 
 
 22Q2912
 
 2 A LOVER S QUARREL. 
 
 but perilous advice of the classic adage confined 
 to the unfair sex. The youngest members of 
 the fair sex itself, hear, even in the nursery, 
 " lovers' quarrels" made very light of the jest, 
 indeed, of the pretty nursery maids, who yet, 
 perhaps, owe to their readiness to quarrel with 
 their "young man," a courtship full of pain 
 instead of pleasure, final estrangement, and a 
 life-long regret, if not remorse ! . . . 
 
 We say the maxim, " Lovers' quarrels are the 
 renewal of love," is popular, for all people are 
 prone to quarrel and none so much so as those 
 who, willing slaves of the master-passion, LOVE, 
 are for the first time aware, that in putting 
 on his yoke they yield themselves also to his 
 attendant spirits, Jealousy, Pride, Vanity, Anger, 
 Grief, Despair, Envy, Revenge, arid Remorse ! 
 
 Wherever Love dwells, these spirits lie in 
 wait to minister to him, and watch eagerly for 
 the first gap in the sweet-briery fence, the first 
 suspicion, the first doubt above all, THE 
 FIRST QUARREL.
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. 3 
 
 And even in that first quarrel (precursor in 
 general of a system of small dissensions and 
 great miseries), how much is said and done 
 that can never really be forgotten, forgiven, or 
 atoned ! . . . 
 
 What stinging words will recur in the soli- 
 tude of a sleepless night ! what scornful looks 
 and angry tones are for ever stamped on the 
 memory of the heart ! . . . How much true 
 pride, and how little true love, may the heart's 
 idol have betrayed under the influence of " the 
 First Quarrel." "Lovers' Quarrels," so far from 
 being the renewal of love, must then, if often 
 repeated, end in its total extinction. They de- 
 stroy faith ; they bring war where peace should 
 ever dwell; they wound pride, they outrage 
 affection, they undermine confidence (confi- 
 dence in the loved one, confidence in ourselves) 
 they first rob Love of every charm, and then 
 they slowly murder him. 
 
 Whether these lovers are affianced or wedded 
 (for in this happy land there are true lovers who, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 have been long wedded), let them beware of any- 
 thing that borders on a quarrel. 
 
 " Agree with thine adversary quickly" (and 
 still more with thy dearest one), "whiles thou 
 art in the way with him, lest at any time the 
 adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the 
 judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be 
 cast into prison. Verily I say unto thee, thou 
 shalt by no means come out thence, till thou 
 hast paid the uttermost farthing." 
 
 The adversary (in the lover's case) is Self 
 Self with all its passionate self-love. "The 
 Judge" is Conscience that Judge that cannot 
 err, and was never known to spare. The prison 
 is that sunless dungeon, this beautiful and glori- 
 ous world must ever be to those who find too 
 late that 
 
 " To be wrath with what we love, 
 Doth work like madness on the brain." 
 
 And " the uttermost farthing" is all that made 
 life d^r; every treasure of tenderness, all the 
 wealth of the heart !
 
 A LOVERS QUARREL. 5 
 
 Disraeli has prettily said, " Reconciliation is 
 the feast of love." But we all know what must 
 be the result of constant feasting. 
 
 The refutation of the old beguiling adage may 
 be read on many a pale cheek, traced in many 
 a lonely, joyless life, recorded on that saddest of 
 tablets, a broken heart ! The experience of 
 every observer of human life, and its wayward 
 passions, is opposed to the popular maxim. 
 
 Tom Moore, in lines that can never die, thus 
 warns lovers of the perils of " a Lover's Quarrel :" 
 
 " Oh, ye who have the charge of Love, 
 Keep him in silken bondage bound, 
 
 As in the realms of bliss above, 
 He sits with roses fettered round. 
 
 Nor ever let him use his wings, 
 
 A minute's, nay, a moment's flight, 
 Will rob the plumes of half their light ! 
 
 And ruder words will soon rush in, 
 
 To spread the breach that words begin, 
 
 And voices lose the tones that shed 
 
 A tenderness o'er all they said, 
 
 And eyes forget the gentle ray 
 
 They wore in courtship's smiling day ;
 
 6 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 And hearts so late united, seem 
 
 Like broken clouds ; or like the stream, 
 
 That laughing left the mountain's brow, 
 
 As tho' its waters ne'er could sever ; 
 Yet ere they reach the plain below, 
 
 Break into floods, and part for ever !" 
 
 PART FOR EVER ! What lonely misery ! what 
 unutterable regret ! what bitterness of desola- 
 tion ! what " late remorse of love " in that 
 common result of a Lover's Quarrel ! 
 
 Nor is the genius of the sweet Irish poet the 
 only one enlisted against the jeering proverb. 
 One of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton's most touch- 
 ing and eloquent effusions thus refutes this old 
 and popular fallacy : 
 
 " They never loved as thou and I, 
 
 Who ministered the moral, 
 That aught that deepens love can lie 
 
 In true love's lightest quarrel. 
 They never knew, in times of fear, 
 
 The safety of affection, 
 Nor sought, when angry fate drew near, 
 
 Love's altar for protection !
 
 A LOVERS QUARREL. 7 
 
 If pain may not from life depart, 
 
 There's pain enough around us, 
 The rose we wear upon the heart 
 
 Should have no thorn to wound us /" 
 
 Let it be the care, then, of all (men or 
 women), who in themselves realise that beautiful 
 image of the rose, worn on some true, trust- 
 ing, loving heart, that there be no thorn to 
 wound the breast that shelters ! 
 
 And if the following tale, " founded on fact," 
 and truly " drawn from Nature," should convey 
 a timely warning to any young hearts, misled by 
 the old perilous proverb, and eager to risk a 
 quarrel for the dangerous pleasure of " making 
 up" if such should be led to ponder on the 
 miseries entailed on true hearts by " a- Lover's 
 Quarrel," (even though all's well that ends well, 
 to the mere looker-on,) we shall not have written, 
 nor they have read, in vain.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RED LION, AND FROST'S FAMILY HOTEL. 
 
 A BALL, a regular county ball, an assize ball, 
 in short, was about to take place in a town of 
 little importance (except as the scene of our 
 tale) to our readers or to ourselves, but which 
 we will call Oldborough. It was a country town, 
 and bore a strong family likeness to all other 
 country towns. That is to say, there was an 
 extravagant, cold, comfortless hotel, prime new, 
 stuccoed, and called " Frost's Family Hotel" 
 
 There was also an old-established, warm, 
 comfortable, cosy inn, very reasonable in its 
 charges, obsequious in its attentions, and proud
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 9 
 
 of a large, creaking sign, "The Red Lion," 
 which crossed the narrow street, and which Red 
 Lion, represented rampant and frowning, seemed 
 ready to spring upon any customers whom he 
 could not entice from the cold grandeur of 
 
 " Frost's Family Hotel." 
 
 * 1 
 
 " Frost's Family Hotel" was a large house, 
 a very large house ; and it was so square, so 
 formal, and so well proportioned, that you knew 
 your way all over it directly you entered it. 
 "The Red Lion" looked very small outside; 
 but, strange to say, it went back so far, and 
 jutted out in so many directions, that it was in 
 reality larger than " Frost's Family Hotel." It 
 " made up" more beds, employed more waiters 
 and chamber-maids, and kept double the number 
 of post horses (for the railway had not yet quite 
 reached our country town). 
 
 Though " Frost's Family Hotel" attracts all 
 new comers, and stands boldly out, as if to defy 
 people to go anywhere else, still the " Red Lion " 
 has an ancient and extensive connexion and old-
 
 10 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 fashioned courtesy, extreme cleanliness, a spirit 
 of hospitality, and love of the long-ago, enable 
 the " Red Lion," in spite of its dark and narrow 
 street and its old-fashioned rooms, furniture, 
 ways, and customs, to compete, and, perhaps,, 
 something more, with all the modern style, fittings 
 up, and charges of " Frost's Family Hotel." 
 
 At " Frost's Family Hotel" you feel at once 
 that you are more than half way in the nine- 
 teenth century, in the reign of Steam and Mam- 
 mon, the days of Reform and of the aristocracy 
 of Wealth and Reality. The rooms are propor- 
 tioned to the rank (or rather to the purses) of 
 the guests. Those who can, and will pay for 
 such privileges may sit in large and lofty apart- 
 ments, with bright grates and tolerable fires. 
 They can gaze on handsome marble mantel- 
 pieces and large chimney glasses, against which 
 rest the framed and glazed " rate of charges," so 
 high as to alarm most travellers. There the 
 heartless and sordid announcement, " No fees to 
 servants," stares the waiters in the face, and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 11 
 
 drives hope from their eyes and smiles from 
 their lips, sending the while a chill to their 
 manners and secret rage to their breasts. The 
 walls are hung with modish papers, some delicate 
 arabesques of gold and silver, and through the 
 huge window panes of plate glass you can see 
 the world just as it is, " making the cold reality 
 too real." The hangings are of new stiff moreen 
 or damask, spotless, and of light colours, and 
 draped in the last fashion. Polished rosewood 
 tables, chairs, and couches are formally arranged. 
 A French timepiece, and vases of French arti- 
 ficial flowers, adorn the mantelpiece. The light- 
 coloured, handsome carpets are covered with 
 glazed holland, and the chandeliers are arrayed 
 in blouses of the same material. Cold glass 
 handles, affixed to the mahogany doors, admit 
 you to the chill grandeur of the rooms. Such 
 (in suitable degrees) is throughout the style of 
 " Frost's Family Hotel." The charges are very 
 high, but no gratuities allowed to waiter or 
 chambermaid. There is no jolly landlord, who
 
 12 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 feels your coming a personal compliment t? 
 himself no landlady who shows her welcorre 
 by a gay cap, a bright smile, and a low curtsey. 
 The hotel belongs to a company of gentlemen 
 speculators. Frost is only an agent. Frost has 
 failed in another place close by, in an hotel of 
 his own. He feels little interest in this specula- 
 tion: his salary does not even depend on its 
 proceeds. Still, as it is a handsome hotel, in a 
 good situation, on a great public road, in a part 
 as yet unreached by rail, but forming a sort of 
 isthmus between two great lines, and above all, 
 as it is a novelty, " Frost's Hotel" prospers. It 
 " takes"- but for " The Red Lion," it would be 
 a brilliant success ; but even as it is, it " takes" 
 well enough to form a bitter contrast between 
 the hotel which Frost had started on his own 
 account and this, which he conducts for " The 
 Great Modern Family Hotel, and No Gratuities 
 to Servants Company." Indeed the few bright 
 moments of Frost's dull life are spent in spite- 
 fully making out the long bills of some guest
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 13 
 
 who had never honoured Frost with his patron- 
 age on his own former premises. It is a positive 
 pleasure to him to note down three shillings for 
 wax lights to a traveller who has only burnt two 
 Margarita candles for half an hour ! He delights 
 to charge one pound for a state apartment in 
 which an aristocratic stranger unwillingly shivers 
 during a wet afternoon, and six shillings for a 
 fire which hardly burns and blazes cheerfully 
 before the visitor is off. Silent, dignified, cold, 
 but ever ready with a low bow and a respectful 
 negative or affirmative, Frost does the chilling 
 honours of the " Family Hotel." 
 
 " Frost's Family Hotel" boasts a very large 
 and handsome room for public meetings, con- 
 certs, public dinners, and the " company" ex- 
 pected at the annual balls of the place. But 
 there they are disappointed. The " Red Lion," 
 little as its exterior would lead you to expect it, 
 has a ball-room, not so modern in its elegance, 
 nor so well proportioned, lighted, and appointed, 
 but even loftier and larger than that of its bril-
 
 14 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 liant rival. In this ball-room the public balls 
 have been held for at least three hundred years. 
 Here the county belles and beaux of many gene- 
 rations have flirted in the most approved style 
 of their day ; and here the love of the " auld 
 lang syne," conquering that of modern inno- 
 vation, has decided that " the County Balls " 
 shall still be held, to the unspeakable pride 
 and triumph of the landlord and landlady of 
 the " Red Lion." Old Joe Hearty and Dame 
 Hearty, his wife, are as much the antipodes of 
 Mr. Frost as the "Red Lion" is of "Frost's 
 Family Hotel." 
 
 They are very old-fashioned, liberal, hospi- 
 table, and attentive ; they take a warm personal 
 interest in their guests ; they know to the mi- 
 nutest detail the history of all the families in the 
 neighbourhood ; and as Joe's ancestors (as far, 
 at least, as records go) have always kept the 
 " Red Lion," the histories of past generations of 
 the nobility and gentry around are treasured up 
 . by " Old Joe," and related to any traveller who
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 15 
 
 keeps up the good old custom of asking " Mine 
 Host's" company over a bottle of port, when 
 chancing to be a solitary guest at the " Red 
 Lion." 
 
 It is a long time before you can know your 
 way over the " Red Lion" the passages are so 
 long and so numerous, the upper stories of the 
 house jutting a good way out into the street, 
 and making the entrance somewhat dark. In 
 that shady and arched entrance there is a bar, 
 in which the portly Mrs. Hearty does not dis- 
 dain to sit, and there is a larder, where hams, 
 cold chickens, game, ripe Stilton and Cheshire 
 cheeses, and dishes of green peas and young 
 potatoes (not boiled) give the hungry traveller 
 some idea of the resources of the " Red Lion." 
 
 Old Joe Hearty and his dame were ultra- 
 Tories Frost was suspected of liberal politics. 
 Old Hearty was somewhat of a bon vivant ; 
 loved a foaming tankard and a glass or two of 
 hot rum and water, of which, in a common way, 
 his dame would take a few frugal sips and on
 
 16 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 fe"te days, such as a Royal birth-day, particularly 
 that of the Third George (George the Good), the 
 late Duke of York's and our present Queen's 
 her wedding day, the 5th of November, and all 
 great Protestant festivals Old Joe would treat 
 himself to a bottle of crusted port, which he 
 would himself fetch from remote, inner, under- 
 ground cellars, of which he alone knew the geo- 
 graphy, and which, in old black bottles, covered 
 with cobwebs and redolent of the Past, contained 
 a wine which he never dreamt of offering to any 
 but the old nobility or gentry, who could appre- 
 ciate its rare excellence, and one dozen of which 
 Joe maintained was worth all the port of 
 "Frost's Family Hotel." 
 
 All Old Joe's dependants, waiters, ostlers, 
 postboys, helpers, and even "boots" were vota- 
 ries of the jolly god ; Frost and his underlings 
 were (or professed to be) teetotallers ; and yet 
 among the domestics of the "Red Lion" there 
 was more good feeling, honesty, and charity, 
 than at "Frost's Family Hotel." The "Red
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 17 
 
 Lion" people always went to church, and all 
 that could read, had bibles and prayer-books. 
 The " Family Hotel" people talked a great deal 
 about freedom of opinion and conscience. Frost 
 was a professed free-thinker. Some of his people 
 went to one " place of worship," as they called 
 it ; some to another ; and some, like Frost, to 
 none at all. 
 
 The " Red Lion" had some very comfortable 
 warm baths, among its odd and rambling pre- 
 mises. Frost's employers had established a 
 " cold-water cure" at the " Family Hotel ;" and 
 several patients resided there for the purpose of 
 carrying on this system, under the superintend- 
 ence of Dr. Renard Chillingham. The host and 
 hostess of the " Red Lion" were very sore and 
 tetchy about Frost and the "Family Hotel." 
 They looked upon Frost as a natural foe as 
 Old Joe said, a sort of second "Bony" in a 
 small way ; but Frost scarcely seemed to know 
 of, or to care for, the existence of the " Red 
 Lion." 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FAULT-FINDER AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 " AND so the ball is to take place at that de- 
 testable old inn !" said Lady Coxe, peevishly, to 
 her husband, Sir Thomas Coxe ; " I really have 
 a great mind not to go. I wonder, Sir Thomas, 
 that you have not had influence, to get it held 
 at that very nice hotel ' Frost's Family Hotel' 
 I am sure that room, where the concerts are 
 given, is the only one in the place fit for a 
 public ball." 
 
 " My dear," said Sir Thomas, " I have done all 
 I can, little as I like the room at the hotel, and 
 quite vain has been my interference ; to attempt
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 19 
 
 anything more, would be to betray my own 
 powerlessness. A struggle that must end in 
 failure, had better be avoided." 
 
 " Well, I have a very great mind not to go," 
 said Lady Coxe, " only I think Eveline would 
 be disappointed ; and, besides, I believe as the 
 Countess of Oldborough is in Paris, and Lady 
 Riverton too ill to go, I shall lead off the ball, 
 which I should rather like, if only to spite some 
 I could name." 
 
 " Ah ! hem ! Of course," said Sir Thomas. 
 " Do as you like, my dear, about going. It is 
 a stupid affair, vilely mismanaged but do as 
 you like." 
 
 Sir Thomas spoke almost at random, for he 
 was deep in the " City Article" of " the Times." 
 
 " I would not go, except for the triumph of 
 leading off before that odious Mrs. De Vere,'' 
 said Lady Coxe. " Do you care much about 
 going, Eveline?" 
 
 " Care, Mamma !" said Eveline, raising her 
 eyes from her frame, where a gorgeous macaw 
 
 c 2
 
 20 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and a group of gay flowers seemed to have 
 sprung into existence beneath her needle. 
 " Care ! oh, Mamma ! of course I care for my 
 first ball, to which I have so long looked for- 
 ward !" and at the bare possibility of being dis- 
 appointed, tears rose to her eyes. 
 
 "Well, Georgiana is quite indifferent about 
 it ; she says so in her letter to-day." 
 
 " But yet, Mamma, she is coming home on 
 purpose, and has ordered a most beautiful dress, 
 on which she has spent all her quarter's allow- 
 ance. Oh, I think she must care a little." 
 
 " I asked Georgiana," said Lady Coxe, " as 
 she goes more into society at her aunt's than we 
 do here, and as Major Longbow Miles, my 
 sister's great friend, piques himself on his know- 
 ledge of etiquette, whether, as the Countess of 
 Oldborough is in Paris, and Lady Riverton too 
 ill to appear, I am not entitled to take prece- 
 dence of all the other ladies ; and Georgiana 
 assures me I am." 
 
 Eveline hesitated. She was very much afraid
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 21 
 
 of her mother's not going to this ball, and she 
 knew that a trifle would decide her against it 
 (a trifle, at least, in her estimation, but a mat- 
 ter of paramount importance in her mother's) ; 
 still Eveline was by nature so honest and true, she 
 did not like, by her silence, to consent to what she 
 fancied might be an error, nor to take advantage, 
 for her own convenience, of what she believed 
 to be her mother's ignorance. Blushing deeply, 
 she said, " Mamma, Mrs. De Vere is the grand- 
 daughter of an Earl. . . ." 
 
 "And what of that?" angrily replied Lady 
 Coxe ; " she has no title." 
 
 " No ; but I think . . ." 
 
 " You always think whatever you fancy will 
 annoy me, Eveline ; but you happen to think 
 wrong, and I shall just go to this ball for tha 
 pleasure of proving to you that I am right, and 
 that you would do well to correct your very un- 
 amiable propensity for diminishing the import- 
 ance of your own mother, and your awn 
 family."
 
 22 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 "Oh, Mamma!" said Eveline, with tears in 
 her eyes, " nothing could be farther . . ." 
 
 " Silence, Eveline !" cried Sir Thomas, raising 
 his eyes from the paper. " You disturb me 
 you are always disturbing me your mother is 
 right and you are wrong ; but, right or wrong, I 
 cannot have these noisy discussions going on for 
 ever." 
 
 " Noisy, Papa !" said Eveline, sweetly ; " I 
 have scarcely spoken before this evening, and 
 now quite sotto voce. Look, dear Papa, do you 
 like this piece better now? I have altered 
 the grouping of the flowers," (and she took Jier 
 frame to him). 
 
 "Better ! no I think it a great deal worse 
 a regular failure and even the great stupid 
 macaw looks ashamed of the whole concern." 
 
 " And I have taken such pains," faltered Eve- 
 line, " to alter it as you seemed to wish." 
 
 " I never wished anything about it," said Sir 
 Thomas; " I hate the whole system of worsted' 
 work girls of the present day spoil their eyes,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 23 
 
 ruin their figures, and contract their mind by this 
 gaudy, engrossing, and merely mechanical occu- 
 pation. I think a handsome rug, or a piece of 
 Brussels carpet outdoes you all." 
 
 " Why, Papa, I took, to it entirely because 
 you said, how strange it was that other ladies 
 furnished their rooms so elegantly with their 
 fancy works, while our drawing-rooms had no- 
 thing to boast of, but the common produce of 
 the loom, and the upholsterer's shop. It was 
 entirely to please you, Papa, that I took to 
 worsted work ; and now that I have done so 
 much, and that most people say that I am the 
 Miss Linwood of the neighbourhood, I find that 
 you dislike and despise it ; and this piece too !" 
 And Eveline despondingly wound up a perfect 
 masterpiece of the work she was famous for, and 
 which, as the composition and colouring were 
 entirely her own, had an artistic merit far be- 
 yond that of most productions of the kind. 
 " My own taste," added Eveline, " is more for 
 the pencil and the needle."
 
 24 A LOVER'S QUAEREL. 
 
 4 
 
 "Ah, there's not much to choose between 
 them," said Sir Thomas, "particularly as you 
 young ladies are taught ; all your landscapes are 
 out of perspective, all your faces and figures out 
 of drawing. But I cannot waste any more time 
 on the subject now. I have found two glaring 
 faults in Bradshaw, and I am just going to 
 write to the Editor of ' the Times' to shew 
 them up. Give me my writing-case, Eveline." 
 
 " Here it is, Papa ; shall I unlock it ?" As 
 he did not speak, Eveline instantly unlocked the 
 case. 
 
 " I did not tell you to unlock the case, Eve- 
 line ; you and your mother hamper all the locks 
 in the house. I daresay, now, you've spoilt 
 that." 
 
 "/never touch any of the locks, Sir Tho- 
 mas," said Lady Coxe, looking up from a novel 
 she was reading. 
 
 " Nor the keys either," growled Sir Thomas. 
 " It would be better if you did. Things soon 
 go to rack and ruin, when the Mistress of the
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 25 
 
 House scorns to take any part in its manage- 
 ment." 
 
 " When I did, you were always finding fault. 
 The steward and the housekeeper are paid for 
 putting up with your horrible temper ; I am 
 not." 
 
 " Oh, it's all very fine," said Sir Thomas ; 
 " steward and housekeeper Ali Baba and the 
 forty thieves that's what a steward and a whole 
 set of servants under him always reminds me of. 
 Well, I believe it will end in ruin. I shall die 
 in a workhouse, and your dainty Ladyship, too." 
 
 " No, I think you will end your days in a 
 lunatic asylum," sneered the lady ; " and unless I 
 take great care, you will drive me into one, too ! 
 However, Nature has blest me with a heavenly 
 temper, and education has, if possible, improved 
 that great domestic treasure ; but one's feelings 
 are exposed to such perpetual wear and tear in 
 living with a regular fault-finder, and one's 
 nerves are so constantly fretted by hearing tones 
 of reproach and complaint, that even I, actually
 
 26 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 sometimes, almost lose my self-possession. I 
 agree with that great medical authority, who 
 says, ' Insanity is often only an excess of ill- 
 temper ;' if so, you will certainly end by going 
 mad ; but I never shall, that's one comfort." 
 
 " What ink ! what pens !" said Sir Thomas, 
 spitefully, seeming not to hear her; "I could 
 get on better with blacking and a stick." 
 
 " Try mine, Papa," said Eveline, hastily 
 rising, and running into an inner room to fetch 
 her own little desk. 
 
 " Don't run, Eveline, and don't hurry so ; 
 it's very vulgar and inelegant !" 
 
 " I thought you could not write with that ink, 
 and those pens, Papa ; try these, they are very 
 good." 
 
 "You are very officious, Eveline. Pshaw ! 
 that wretched pale ink and steel pens ! I loathe 
 them ;" and pushing the desk rudely away, the 
 shining patent steel pens were scattered on the 
 floor. 
 
 Eveline meekly began to pick them up.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 27 
 
 "Do be quiet, Eveline; they're not worth 
 picking up ; besides, you fidget and bother me ; 
 wait till I've done, and then let James come and 
 sweep them up." 
 
 " Eveline," said Lady Coxe, " I want to know 
 who told you that Mrs. De Vere is going to the 
 ball." 
 
 " If you are going to talk about the ball," 
 said Sir Thomas, " either you or I must leave 
 the room." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Coxe, " in a general way 
 I should say you must, Sir Thomas, as this is 
 the common drawing-room, and you are too ir- 
 ritable for the common courtesies of life ; but I 
 want to consult Eveline about my dress, and so 
 we will leave you to solitude and the spleen." 
 
 " Here are envelopes and wax, Papa." 
 
 " Will you never cease tormenting and inter- 
 rupting me ?" growled Sir Thomas. 
 
 " Where did you get that spaniel temper of 
 yours, child ?" said Lady Coxe, as her daughter 
 accompanied her upstairs, leaving Sir Thomas to
 
 28 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 pen a letter of complaint of Bradshaw, to " THE 
 
 TIMES ;" a subject to which his pen lent itself in 
 
 real and angry earnest, almost making holes in 
 
 the paper as it hurried along. 
 
 " What a horrid person Sir Thomas is to live 
 
 with," added Lady Coxe. 
 
 " Oh, don't say so, dear Mamma." 
 
 " Why, I am not sure, that you, Eveline, are 
 
 not even more provoking. Ring for Plume, and 
 
 reach me that bandbox."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE RUINED FAMILY. 
 
 " Oh, Mamma, are you not glad, after all that 
 the Coxes and their party have done to prevent 
 it, the ball is to be at ' The Red Lion ?' Those 
 dear old Heartys I hear they are so proud 
 and so pleased ; for though they affected to have 
 no fears on the subject, poor Joe turned purple, 
 and dear old Mrs. Hearty pale, whenever it was 
 spoken of, at least so Mabel Primrose says." 
 
 " How can you let Mabel Primrose talk to 
 you, Amy, about such nonsense ? you are much 
 too condescending, my love. She is a pert.
 
 30 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 forward girl, and you should keep up your own 
 dignity, or she will be taking liberties." 
 
 So spake Mrs. De Vere, who, dressed in a 
 very faded and scanty old silk, and in a cap the 
 blonde of which had been washed again and 
 again, sat in a worn old crimson arm-chair, with 
 gilt frame-work, like some haughty tragedy 
 queen on her throne. Mrs. De Vere, in spite of 
 the disadvantages of her attire, was still beau- 
 tiful of a very aristocratic style of beauty too ! 
 pale, with large violet eyes, high forehead, 
 " nose so delicately aquiline," light gold hair, 
 and a form of stately grace. Her daughter Amy 
 was " the softened image of her noble self;" only, 
 that with the same general air of nobility about 
 her, her individual disposition changed all that 
 was commanding in the mother, into all that 
 was winning in the daughter. She was, besides, 
 decidedly petite, and though slight, of a form 
 beautifully rounded ; and while her mother's com- 
 plexion, even in her youth, had been of the 
 most Eugenie-like pallor, the rose of June
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 31 
 
 found a rival on the lovely cheeks of Amy De 
 Vere. 
 
 " Oh, indeed, you wrong Mabel, Mamma," 
 said Amy ; " I really think the poorer we grow, 
 the more respectful and humble does she be- 
 come." 
 
 " I am glad of it ; I hope one day to be able 
 to reward her. I must go to this ball, I sup- 
 pose, just to show the Coxes and their clique in 
 what real importance consists but what with 
 trimming my yellow poplin, cleaning my gloves 
 and feathers, washing my lace scarf, re-making 
 my turban, and covering my white satin shoes, 
 I am quite worn out and disgusted with the 
 whole affair. You do not seem to be getting 
 on with your dress, nor Cecilia with hers. 
 You must expect no help from me I am quite 
 exhausted already." 
 
 " Oh, Mamma ! with Mabel's clever assist- 
 ance, our dresses are 'ready." 
 
 " And mean and miserable enough they look, 
 I fear," said Mrs. De Vere.
 
 32 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " Oh, not so bad, Mamma. Shall I fetch 
 them ?" 
 
 The mother bowed her head over the old 
 plume of feathers she was cleaning. 
 
 " My poor girl 1 is that the best you can 
 make of it?" said the mother, a tear in her 
 proud eye. " Washed muslin, over dyed silks, 
 and not even new gloves and shoes !" 
 
 " Oh, but the muslin is so well washed ! and the 
 silk so admirably dyed ! Then, Mamma, we are 
 to have two beautiful white camellias each, with 
 a bud, and dark glossy leaves, for our hair, from 
 Mabel's brother, the gardener at Lady Riverton's ; 
 and I have embroidered both our shoes and 
 gloves, so as to hide any little soils there may be 
 on them. I do not say anything about myself, 
 but I am quite sure that Cecilia, even with all 
 these disadvantages, will look much better than 
 Georgiana Coxe, though Mabel says her dress 
 (she knows) cost fifty pounds altogether." 
 
 "Mabel again! My Amy, nothing is so 
 vulgar as gossip ; but I am sure if Cecile does
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 33 
 
 eclipse Miss Coxe, you will far outshine your 
 rival debutante, Miss Eveline, whom people rave 
 about!" 
 
 " I have no wish to outshine Eveline Coxe, 
 Mamma. When we were playmates, she was 
 the kindest, gentlest, best little creature in the 
 world ; and poor Ferdinand was just like her. 
 Even Miss Crabbe was fond of them. We 
 used to take such long walks with them, and play 
 so happily together, while Miss Crabbe, Miss 
 Peer, and Georgina Coxe talked about their dar- 
 ling London, and the parks and theatres ; and 
 how they hated the country, and detested its 
 dulness." 
 
 " It was unjustifiable in Miss Crabbe to let 
 you form any such intimacies. Those years, 
 while I was on the continent with your poor 
 father, were years very important to the forma- 
 tion of your manners, characters, and tastes; 
 and I do not think you will ever be as thoroughly 
 aristocratic a person, Amy, as you would have 
 been, had you never known those parvenus. 
 VOL. i. D
 
 34 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 However, since their impertinence to your father 
 about the shooting, the old people and ourselves 
 are luckily dead-cuts; and, of course, this being 
 the case, you will have very little to do with the 
 young ones." 
 
 Amy's eyes filled with tears. 
 " To think that my daughters should go to a 
 public ball in dresses like those, and both your 
 father and myself can trace our descent from the 
 Conquest ; and once half this county belonged 
 to our ancestors ! 
 
 " And to think, too," added Mrs. De Vere, as 
 Amy did not reply, " that a Captain Thomas 
 Coxe should ever have presumed to propose to 
 a daughter of ours ! . . . Oh, Amy, I hope 
 such an insult will never be offered us again !" 
 " Why, Mamma, certainly he is very arrogant, 
 conceited, and consequential, and very unlike 
 Ferdinand ; but I think that, knowing how very 
 poor we are, he fancied he conferred an honour 
 rather than requested one ; and 1 know that he 
 had great trouble with his parents to get them
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 35 
 
 to consent to his making the offer at all, and to 
 the very handsome settlements he proposed. I 
 believe people thought Cecile very foolish for re- 
 fusing him." 
 
 " For that piece of intelligence I suppose you 
 are indebted to your friend Mabel's malapert 
 tongue ; and the world, Amy, is grown so mean 
 that, knowing we are a ruined family, it 
 would think you did wrong (had you the option) 
 to refuse to link the houses of De Vere and 
 Lorraine with Mr. Frost, of the Family Hotel !" 
 Amy laughed, but her mother drew up with 
 extra importance. 
 
 " And now go and call Cecile to tea. She 
 has been walking with Dudley Harcourt for the 
 kst three hours, up and down the terrace and 
 avenue, much too long, considering the time 
 that must elapse before the marriage can take 
 place. ' Familiarity breeds contempt.' Dudley 
 is less deferential to me, and less devoted to her, 
 since she has been so lavish of her company." 
 " Oh, Mamma ! indeed that is fancy." 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " Allow me to judge of that, Amy. Go and 
 call your sister and Dudley ; and ask your Papa 
 if he will come down or not." 
 
 The lovers reluctantly obeyed the summons. 
 It was such luxury to them to pace, now arm in 
 arm, now hand in hand, up and down the moss- 
 grown terraces, and the ill-kept but noble avenue 
 of " The Court," for such the old place had 
 been called ever since some King of the olden 
 time had, while visiting his loving subject, Sir 
 Roland De Vere, on the news of some imaginary 
 treason, summoned a hasty council in that old 
 Manor Hall. 
 
 Once upon a time, all the county, as far as 
 eye could reach with its beautiful woods and 
 sparkling river, its rich corn-fields and its emerald 
 pastures belonged to the De Vere of that day. 
 But the decline of this family had been as gra- 
 dual and certain as the rise and prosperity of 
 some others in the neighbourhood. The father 
 of the present possessor (addicted to gambling 
 and drinking) contrived, when his son, a gay
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 37 
 
 young officer, was of age, with his consent, to 
 cut off the entail of all the largest of the farms, 
 and to mortgage them deeply ; and the present 
 Mr. De Vere, proud, reserved, and eccentric, to 
 such an extent as by many to be considered 
 insane, possessed nothing but the large dilapi- 
 dated old mansion, its romantic grounds, and a 
 home-farm, which, well managed, might have 
 realized five hundred a-year at least ; but as it 
 was let to a very poor and lazy tenant, it scarcely 
 produced an annual three hundred. 
 
 Common sense and common prudence would, 
 of course, have suggested the dismissal of a 
 supine old tenant, bigotted to a past and ex- 
 ploded system of farming, in these days of great 
 agricultural improvement, and of the justly- 
 boasted application of science to matter. But 
 " old Giles" was the last of a race who had 
 rented under the De Veres in their palmy days. 
 To old Giles the De Veres were still the great 
 people of the place. " The Court" was still to 
 old Giles " The Manor Hall," De Vere " The
 
 38 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Squire," and " Lord of the Manor" a barren 
 title, it is true, but one he held, and must hold, 
 come what would. And this made him, in old 
 Giles's eyes, a far more important person than 
 the rich Sir Thomas Coxe, who had bought, by 
 degrees, all the broad lands (the home farm ex- 
 cepted) which once belonged to the De Veres. 
 
 Poor Roland De Vere, the present proprietor 
 of De Vere Court, in his youth a very gay and 
 gallant officer, had been expected to bestow his 
 very handsome person, and very ancient name, 
 on some City heiress, or wealthy widow, who 
 would have enabled him to buy back the old 
 possessions of the De Veres ; but, alas ! " Love 
 will still be lord of all." An ardent passion for 
 the penniless daughter of the Hon. Captain Lor- 
 raine, youngest son of the lat Earl of Rock- 
 alpine, ended in his marrying the haughty 
 beauty ; and his regiment soon after being put 
 upon half-pay, he retired with her to De Vere 
 Court, where they realized the old proverb 
 " Marry in haste and repent at leisure." Two
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 39 
 
 daughters inherited the pride, the poverty, and 
 the remarkable beauty of both their parents. 
 
 Noble as was their descent, even the present 
 Earl of Rockalpine, Mrs. De Vere's uncle, was 
 himself a very poor peer, who lived abroad, took 
 no part in politics, and had little or no influence. 
 His title descended to heirs general. He had 
 an eccentric brother, older than Captain Lorraine, 
 Mrs. De Vere's father ; and the present Earl had 
 never noticed his niece, Mrs. De Vere, since her 
 marriage ; for his bosom friend, old Lord Bag- 
 shot, had coveted "the fair hand of Cecilia Lor- 
 raine that hand which, in spite of her uncle's 
 influence and her elderly wooer's wealth and 
 title, she persisted in bestowing upon the ruined 
 descendant of the house of De Vere. 
 
 The young couple, instead of boldly confront- 
 ing the fate they had brought upon themselves 
 (to please themselves), and so using the present 
 as to control the future, sat down to mourn and 
 brood over the past. A contemptuous enmity 
 for, and a disparaging jealousy of, all their
 
 40 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 wealthier neighbours, filled their hearts, and 
 enervating retrospects of former grandeur, early 
 unfitted these ill-fated people for that economy 
 and good management which, it appeared, alone 
 could enable them to regain that position which 
 was their birthright. 
 
 Quarrelsome and ill-matched in all other 
 things, the aristocratic parents were united in 
 this: From the peerage in which, as far as 
 records went, the houses of De Vere and Lor- 
 raine were blent with every noble family on 
 record, the little heirs of pride and poverty 
 learned to read. To church the De Veres went ; 
 but, alas ! not to learn humility, but to pamper 
 pride. 
 
 The grand pew of the church belonged to the 
 De Veres monuments of the De Veres covered 
 its walls a Sir Roland De Vere was its founder 
 and the effigy of " a goode knighte, Conrad 
 De Vere, with Dame Bertha De Vere, his wife, 
 and six brave sonnes and seven fayr daughters," 
 carved in stone, formed one of the lions of the
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 41 
 
 church the goode knyghte and his dame lying 
 side by side, and the six sonnes praying on their 
 right, and the seven daughters on their left, all 
 exactly alikte in face, form, and attitude. Brasses, 
 too, in great numbers and admirable preserva- 
 tion (all connected with the De Veres), delighted 
 the curious ; and this, too, in the house of God, 
 the place, of all others, where man should feel 
 what a worm he is ! 
 
 In their large, unalienable pew surrounded 
 by monuments of their past grandeur, and gazing 
 on painted windows, emblazoned with their arms 
 the De Veres almost transported themselves 
 back to the olden time felt their hearts swell 
 with pride, and looked down with ineffable scorn 
 on Sir Thomas and Lady Coxe, who, in order 
 to obtain what they thought tolerable accommo- 
 dation, had been obliged to throw several pews 
 in the body of the church into one, and, by dint 
 of gilt rods, red silk curtains, brass nails, scarlet 
 cloth linings, down cushions, swelling hassocks, 
 and a patent stove, had made their pew as evi-
 
 42 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 dently the vain, lounging, and godless retreat of 
 the purse-proud parvenu, as the De Veres' was 
 the faded temple of family pride and haughty 
 poverty. 
 
 And when the sun looked in upon that house 
 of God, and lighted up the forms of the Coxe 
 family, so vain of their new grandeur, and the 
 De Veres, so proud of their past glories what 
 a mockery must those kneeling families have 
 appeared to Him who knows the heart, and who 
 remembers that we are hut dust ! 
 
 How hollow, in the ear of Omniscience, the 
 loud confession of Sir Thomas Coxe that he was 
 a " miserable sinner," meant to edify the won- 
 dering poor ! how vain the haughty " Have 
 mercy upon us, O Lord !" of Roland De Vere ! 
 What blessing could either parent hope to bring 
 down by such mere lip-homage on the fair 
 young families kneeling around them !
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LE DEPEIT AMOUREUX. 
 
 IT was with the gentlest deference that Dudley 
 Harcourt listened to Mrs. De Vere's rebuke for 
 his own want of punctuality, and for inducing 
 Miss De Vere (as she pointedly called her 
 daughter) also to forget her mother's appointed 
 hour for tea. 
 
 No one who heard his courteous and amiable 
 apologies, or beheld the fond and admiring gaze 
 with which he deprecated the rising wrath -of 
 his beautiful affianced, would have believed Mrs. 
 De Vere's assertion regarding the diminution of
 
 44 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 his respect for her, and the falling off in his 
 devotion to her daughter. 
 
 " Mamma !" at length exclaimed Cecile, her 
 dark eyes flashing through their tears, her colour 
 rising, and her bosom heaving, " Mamma ! pray 
 address your reproaches to me, and to me alone. 
 Dudley more than once reminded me that it was 
 time to go in ; but the evening was so lovely, 
 and I .was so tired with the ungrateful task of 
 making an old dress look new, that I really 
 thought myself privileged to enjoy an extra half 
 hour of peace and fresh air." 
 
 "Whatever privileges you, Miss De Vere, 
 may assume, we can discuss in private, if you 
 please ; but Mr. Dudley Harcourt is my guest, 
 and, therefore, I must request him to pay me in 
 future the common courtesy of attending to the 
 hours of my establishment." 
 
 " Be sure I will never transgress again," said 
 Dudley, rising in the most affectionate manner, 
 and attempting to take the reluctant hand of his 
 future mother-in-law.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 45 
 
 " Oh Dudley," said Cecile, " how can you so 
 demean yourself! The more you try to conci- 
 liate Mamma, the more she will scorn and mor- 
 tify you !" and Cecile handed him his tea with 
 the air of an offended Juno. 
 
 " Not so, indeed, my dear, dear Dudley/' 
 said Mrs. De Vere, pressing his long-proffered 
 hand, while tears filled her eyes. " Cecile wrongs 
 me, my dear young friend ; contempt of my 
 wishes, and disregard of my rules, arouse all 
 my pride and anger, but concessions and for- 
 bearance touch me to the heart." 
 
 And Mrs. De Vere threw her arm round the 
 neck of her daughter's lover, who, extending his 
 hand to Cecile, gently drew her into an embrace 
 that included the three. Peace being thus re- 
 stored, Dudley Harcourt produced a casket and 
 a small parcel. 
 
 The parcel contained three pairs of white kid 
 gloves, elegantly trimmed and embroidered the 
 casket a set of pearls, very tasteful, but not very 
 expensive.
 
 46 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " Now, dearest Mamma elect!" he said, "let 
 me avail myself of this happy moment to make 
 my offerings. These," and he presented the 
 gloves, " for your fair self and lovely daughters 
 to wear at ' the ball,' and the contents of this 
 poor casket my first love-gift to my future 
 bride." 
 
 "Dudley," said Mrs. De Vere, kindly, but 
 firmly, " you know me too well to be offended 
 at my refusing what I know is so kindly meant. 
 With regard to the pearls, Cecile herself can tell 
 you, that when I yielded to her prayers and 
 yours, to permit of an engagement, I exacted a 
 promise that no presents should ever be accepted 
 by her, until she became your bride ; and with 
 regard to the gloves, I long ago gave my word to 
 Mr. De Vere, that neither my daughters nor my- 
 self would ever accept of any gift, however trifling, 
 from any gentleman not related to himself or 
 me. We have many reasons for this, my dear 
 Dudley, which I have not time to explain nor 
 you, perhaps, to listen to. Keep the pearls till
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 47 
 
 you can decorate your bride with them; the 
 gloves will be very useful to Mrs. Dudley Har- 
 court some day, I doubt not. And now I am 
 going to sit with your father," she added, look- 
 ing at an antique clock on the mantel-piece. 
 " One hour is all I can allow you, and then 
 dear Dudley must go home with a good grace." 
 Mrs. De Vere then, smilingly, left the room.!
 
 48 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FIRST QUARREL. 
 
 " How very provoking, and how very absurd 
 so to reject your kind, beautiful offerings, dear- 
 est Dudley !" said Cecile, a tear falling on the 
 hand with which her lover grasped her own. 
 
 " No, Cecile ! do not speak thus of what a 
 mother has said or done. Do not, my sweet 
 one ! I know, my darling ! it is for me, and my 
 mortification and disappointment, you feel ; but 
 do not, dearest, allow even that generous im- 
 pulse to betray you into any disrespect to your 
 mother." 
 
 " Oh, if you are satisfied, Mr. Harcourt,"
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 49 
 
 said Cecile, hastily withdrawing her hand ; the 
 bewitching softness of her look and manner 
 changed for scorn and anger, " / am sure / have 
 no reason to complain. Indeed, I dare say, 
 Mamma is quite right. Ladies cannot be too 
 reserved the less one condescends the more 
 one is respected !" and Cecile took up her guitar, 
 which lay on a chair close by, and with an air of 
 haughty insouciance, began to play a waltz. 
 
 " Cecile !" said her lover, very pale and much 
 hurt, " what do you mean by your last remark ?" 
 
 " Mean ?" retorted the offended beauty, with 
 assumed surprise; " surely, Mr. Harcourt, so 
 distinguished a scholar, so great a moralist, and 
 so capital a lecturer, does not require me to ex- 
 plain so very simple a remark." 
 
 " Yes, Miss De Vere, I do," said Dudley, 
 meeting her saucy and provoking glances with a 
 sorrowful, but proud composure. 
 
 " Oh dear ! I am not to be awed by grand 
 theatrical stares," said the young lady ; who, 
 however, was evidently a good deal awed. " One 
 
 VOL. i. E
 
 50 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 would think I was a child, Mr. Harcourt, by the 
 way in which you presume to school nay, to 
 scold me." 
 
 " What have I said, Cecile, to cause this sud- 
 den change from the most beguiling and endear- 
 ing tenderness, to the most insulting defiance 
 and contempt?" 
 
 " Oh, pause ! your vanity misleads you sadly, 
 Mr. Harcourt ; I cannot indeed plead guilty to 
 the tenderness you presume to tax me with, what- 
 ever I may do to the defiance and contempt." 
 
 "Sister! dear sister !" said Amy, who had 
 remained silent till then, her head bent over her 
 work, and who, on looking up, perceived that 
 Dudley was pale, trembling, and his eyes full of 
 tears, though his manner was collected, and even 
 stern. " Sister !" and Amy rose, and approached 
 the stately Cecile, who was tossing back her 
 long ringlets with one hand, while with the other 
 she carelessly touched the lute. " Be advised, 
 dearest sister. You are not yourself to-night. 
 You are very angry and with very little, if any,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 51 
 
 cause. Come, shake hands with dear Dudley 
 he meant nothing unkind ; come, besides being 
 one whom you mean one day to * love, honour and 
 obey/ he is even now our pastor our adviser. 
 It is his duty to tell us of our faults. Come, 
 make up this silly quarrel before you say things 
 you would give the world you had never said." 
 
 Cecile glanced for half an instant at Dudley. 
 She expected to see him eagerly advancing, pas- 
 sionately courting a reconciliation but though 
 he loved her with a first, intense and ardent love, 
 he had been offended by her contemptuous and 
 disrespectful asperity shocked by her bitter- 
 ness, and grieved at what seemed to him to 
 betray so unchristian a spirit. Meekness and 
 penitence alone could have brought him at that 
 moment to her side perhaps to her feet. There 
 was nothing meek or penitent in the glance 
 Cecile threw upon him, but there was something 
 excessively haughty and defiant in what that 
 glance became, when she saw him sternly gazing 
 on her, with his arms folded on his bosom. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 "Amy!" she said, "your spirit partakes a 
 great deal more of our fallen fortunes than of 
 our lofty birth. Let this be a lesson to you, 
 my sister, and if ever you condescend, as I did, 
 and lavish attentions on one every way unworthy 
 of them, expect to be lectured like a school-girl, 
 and taunted with your tenderness." 
 
 " Oh, sister ! do not let your proud temper 
 blind you so ; indeed, Dudley said nothing 
 but . . ." 
 
 " But what he would repeat under similar 
 circumstances," said her lover, ghastly pale, but 
 with flashing eyes and sternest brow. 
 
 " Which circumstances will never occur again !" 
 said Cecile, laughing bitterly in her passionate 
 scorn. " To expose one's self to insult once, 
 shows little of either proper pride or discern- 
 ment ; but to do so again, would be, indeed, to 
 have no penetration or self-respect." 
 
 " You are right, Miss De Vere !" said Dudley, 
 in a voice so choked by contending emotions, it 
 made Cecile's heart stand still. He moved to
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 53 
 
 reach his hat. She grew pale, and felt sick and 
 faint ; for though she would not look up from a 
 brooch she was settling in her bosom, she felt 
 that he was going. 
 
 "Farewell, Miss De Vere! Amy, farewell, 
 and God bless you !" 
 
 He has taken his hat he has left the room 
 Cecile sinks back, pale and motionless. Amy 
 rushes after him he has passed out at the hall 
 door he is on the moonlit terrace. He raises 
 to his lips the hand she placed on his arm, in 
 the hope of detaining him, but he persists in 
 his departure, and, on that hand, Amy felt the 
 hot and bitter tears fall !
 
 54 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE RIVAL SOLICITORS. 
 
 THERE were two solicitors in our county- 
 town : one was a gentleman in spite, the other 
 in right, of his being an attorney-at-law. The 
 great difference in the rank, and social position, 
 and importance of these two members of the 
 same profession, was not owing to any accident 
 of birth, or caprice of Dame Fortune they were 
 both born of parents belonging to the working 
 classes. Mr. Ormsby's father had been a tenant- 
 farmer, Mr. Stubbs's a draper, or rather, general 
 dealer; they had been educated at the same 
 grammar school, and articled to the same old-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 55 
 
 established firm of Wily, Smiley, and Co. When 
 Wily died, and old Smiley retired to live on an 
 estate, and in a Hall, which had belonged to 
 one of the principal clients of the firm, who was 
 outlawed, and living in great penury at Calais 
 Stubbs, the general dealer, grown immensely 
 rich, purchased the business for his son ; and 
 Ormsby's father would have bought his son a share 
 in it too, but that, in spite of their long inti- 
 macy, the young men had no sympathy with 
 each other j and the companionship, which had 
 been endured, if not welcomed, in the first flush 
 and undistinguishing love of fellowship, of early 
 youth, had become odious to Gerald Ormsby, 
 and rather wearisome to Sam Stubbs. Mr. 
 Ormsby, therefore, accepted the stewardship of 
 a nobleman's estate, pro tempore, and quitted 
 his native place for Wales ; but giving his old 
 school-fellow fully to understand that, in all pro- 
 bability, he should be a dangerous rival yet 
 at Oldborough, and advising him to make the 
 most of his time. At the period of our story,
 
 56 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Stubbs was become Mr. Stubbs, for 
 the good old general dealer was lying under 
 a showy white tombstone, and a most lau- 
 datory epitaph, in the parish church of Old- 
 borough. 
 
 Mr. Stubbs then had lost his thick, straight, 
 sandy hair and slender waist. He was grown 
 bald, corpulent, very testy, and very rich. He 
 had married Miss Smiley, who brought him 
 twenty thousand pounds, and half-a-dozen 
 children, all flat-nosed, sandy, thick-lipped, vain, 
 sly, and grasping from the eldest son, " Smiley 
 Stubbs," the pride of his mother's heart, and 
 the terror of his father's, who aimed at being, 
 and would have been the fastest young man in 
 Oldborough, only that it is " money makes the 
 mare to go ;" and though he had plenty of it, 
 he did not like parting with it. Some who had 
 much less of what they all alas ! considered 
 the one thing needful, beat him in the unprofit- 
 able race. Smiley Stubbs, who knew nothing 
 of kw, was a lawyer for all that, and a partner
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 57 
 
 in the firm, with a very handsome share of the 
 profits. 
 
 Old Stubbs was a very shrewd old attorney 
 indeed. He was a pettifogger, but a very clever 
 one fall of " dodges," tricks, windings and 
 turnings, obsolete laws, and forgotten, unrepealed 
 acts. He had got many an innocent man im- 
 prisoned, and many a guilty one off. He had 
 saved more than one life by a mere quirk and 
 quibble ; and his satisfaction arose not so much 
 from the gratitude of the client, or the luxury of 
 conscious benevolence, as from the exultation he 
 felt in what he called his " cuteness." 
 
 Yet, with all his cleverness, all his wealth, 
 even in the worldly race Gerald Ormsby had 
 beaten him. He was originally no more a gentle- 
 man than Sam Stubbs ; but, as Claude Melnotte 
 says, " honest men are the gentlemen of nature" 
 and he was a thoroughly-honest man. The 
 nobleman who had entrusted to him the agency 
 of his immense estates, soon found, by the im- 
 proved state of his affairs, what it was to have
 
 58 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 an agent whose object was rather to benefit his 
 employer than to enrich himself. He conceived 
 an affection for the earnest, upright, noble- 
 hearted young solicitor, who dared to tell him 
 the truth, to point out even a patron's error, to 
 plead the cause of an offending tenant, and act, 
 in spite of a great name, as if he had ever the 
 fear of one greater far before his eyes. 
 
 The Earl of Olborough invited Gerald Ormsby 
 to his table, preferred shooting or fishing tete- 
 a-tete with him, to joining parties of men of his 
 own rank ; encouraged him to cultivate his na- 
 turally-fine mind, gave him access to his choice 
 library, welcomed him to his house in town, his 
 opera-box, his dinner parties, and took him with 
 him to Italy to see his Lordship's only sister, the 
 once-beautiful Lady Almeria Staunton, who had 
 married against her brother's advice, and without 
 his consent, Sir Harry Hazlewood, the hand- 
 somest, most sporting young fellow on the turf. 
 Sir Harry had been obliged, ere long, to live 
 abroad, his affairs being (as it was said) incurably 
 and inextricably involved.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 59 
 
 Both the Earl and Sir Harry had had deal- 
 ings with the firm of " Stubbs and Son" the 
 former never to any great extent the latter 
 had grown poor in proportion as the Stubbs's 
 grew rich ; and but for the timely intervention 
 of the Earl, and Gerard Ormsby's talent and 
 integrity, Hazlewood itself would probably, in 
 time, have passed into the hands of "Lawyer 
 Stubbs," as " the Poor " called him, in a whisper, 
 turning pale the while. 
 
 The once beautiful Lady Almeria was beautiful 
 no more ; she was in the last stage of a consump- 
 tion, but her charms had been inherited by a 
 daughter at the time of the Earl's and Mr. 
 Ormsby's visit, about eighteen. Sir Harry 
 himself was grown stout, rubicund, dull, and 
 domestic very anxious about his wife and his 
 affairs. The Earl encouraged him to lay them, 
 as far as he could, before the young lawyer, 
 Gerald Ormsby. He made himself master of 
 them by degrees, and did not consider them 
 hopeless. For several years (at the Earl's en-
 
 60 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 treaty) Gerald Ormsby, acting as agent and legal 
 adviser for Sir Harry Hazlewood, visited that 
 gentleman wherever he and his family happened 
 to be located on the continent, and attended the 
 interment, in the Protestant burial-ground at 
 Leghorn, of the Earl's once beautiful sister, 
 Lady Almeria. Sir Harry, who, proud and shy, 
 shrank, in his altered fortunes and anxious po- 
 sition, from the gay English abroad, clung to 
 Gerald Ormsby almost as to a son ; and im- 
 plored him not to leave himself and his little 
 Merrry, as he called his daughter, alone, in the 
 first intolerable anguish of their bereavement. 
 
 Almeria at this time was two-and-twenty, 
 Gerald six years older. She was very lovely, 
 confiding, and impassioned. Gerald was the 
 only young man her father liked or encouraged. 
 She had herself a great distaste for foreigners 
 and for continentalised English. She probably 
 suspected no danger. Gerald was wiser. His 
 incessant and judicious exertions had put Sir 
 Harry's affairs in a very different and highly
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 61 
 
 improved state. Already his income was trebled, 
 while the estate itself was paying off its heavy 
 incumbrances. Gerald one day announced to 
 Sir Harry, that at the end of two years, he 
 thought he might venture to return to Hazle- 
 wood and resume the life, not of a modern 
 sporting man, but 
 
 " Of a fine old English gentleman, 
 All of the olden time." 
 
 When poor Sir Harry, whose nerves were 
 once of iron, and his heart apparently of granite, 
 heard this good news, he burst into tears, 
 held out his hand to Gerald Ormsby, and said, 
 " Thank him, Merry ; for it will be owing to him 
 that I shall, perhaps, one day, see you sitting, as 
 your ancestors did, among the noble matronage 
 of England. Lord Loftus and myself always 
 planned a marriage, Gerald, between his boy and 
 my girl ; but even had he resumed the proposal, 
 she should never have entered that haughty 
 family, except as (what through you she will
 
 62 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 again become) the heiress of Hazlewood. Now 
 I think I may refresh my old friend's memory 
 on that point, eh, Merry ?" but Merry, pale as the 
 white dress she wore, had turned to the window, 
 to hide her tears, and Gerald had hastily risen 
 and quitted the room. 
 
 That artless speech of the old man's had fully 
 aroused Gerald Ormsby to the danger of his 
 fascinating intimacy with Almeria Hazlewood. 
 His patron's niece, his unsuspecting friend's 
 daughter, child of the very man who was of all 
 men most sacred in his eyes, because the great 
 good he, Gerald, had done him, would make it 
 ingratitude to reproach and impossible to con- 
 demn him. 
 
 But honour had been Gerald Ormsby's guide 
 through life. He read at a glance, in Almeria's 
 sudden, deadly pallor and starting tears, the 
 delicious, dangerous secret of her heart. He 
 denied himself the luxury of a farewell he 
 exposed himself to the misery of being thought 
 by her abrupt, capricious, indifferent he knew,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 63 
 
 if he saw her, his heart would speak out and 
 he departed. 
 
 But Almeria loved him as a woman of two- 
 and-twenty, who has never frittered away her 
 powers of loving in little flirtations, and who 
 thoroughly respects and reveres the man she 
 prefers, is sure to love. Delicate, sensitive, and, 
 perhaps, predisposed a little to her mother's 
 malady, a secret grief and bitter mortification 
 (for in his flight she read the conviction that 
 he perceived her passion and did not return it), 
 this soon robbed Almeria's eyes of their light, 
 her form of its roundness, and her cheek of its 
 bloom. Sir Harry was first in terror, then in 
 despair. He sent for Gerald Gerald did not 
 dare obey the summons. Almeria grew rapidly 
 worse. She was confined to her bed. She 
 believed herself dying. She, under that im- 
 pression, told her tale of love and misery to her 
 father. His pride revolted, his tenderness pre- 
 vailed. He never admitted a doubt that Gerald's 
 conduct was dictated by honour, not by inclif-
 
 64 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 ference. He, Sir Harry, laid the case before the 
 Earl. The Earl, who had noticed with anxiety 
 Gerald's pale cheek, anxious brow, and deep 
 depression, soon got at his secret, and wrote to 
 Sir Harry. 
 
 " He loves Almeria, that is certain ; that he 
 would die rather than do by us what he thinks 
 dishonourable, is equally true. Loftus's son 
 is heir to a barony and ten thousand a year ; 
 handsome, elegant, and not worse than others of 
 his clique but it is a clique fond of gambling, 
 devoted to ' ballerinas' hollow, artificial ' used 
 up.' He will not love Almeria, but he will 
 marry her for the sake of Hazlewood and a nurse. 
 at present he has a liaison which quite engrosses 
 him. Gerald adores her. She, as you know, lives 
 but for him, he is a good, noble, devoted fellow. I 
 will take care he rises in the world write, and 
 press on the match before Almeria slips through 
 your fingers and lies by her mother's side." 
 
 Sir Harry did as the Earl directed. Gerald, 
 half wild with love and joy, hurried to Leghorn.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 65 
 
 Sir Harry himself led him to Almeria's arm-chair 
 and left him with her. 
 
 Happiness is a great restorer, particularly to 
 the young Almeria soon rallied. She became 
 Gerald Ormsby's wife and returned with him and 
 her father to Hazlewood, within twenty miles of 
 Oldborough. His marriage connected him with 
 the county families, and ensured his cordial re- 
 ception among them. But although Hazlewood 
 would one day be his in right of his wife, he 
 would not eat the bread of idleness or drink the 
 cup of dependence. 
 
 " Shame on the coward thought that e'er betrayed 
 The noon of manhood to the myrtle shade." 
 
 He did not resign the stewardship of the Earl's 
 estates. Indeed, his doing so would have 
 seriously injured his generous patron ; but he 
 had got everything in such order that a little 
 attention on his part, and an honest, clever steward 
 kept all going, without any drudgery of his. Sir 
 Harry was able to live in good style at Hazle- 
 wood ; but to do so economy was necessary. 
 VOL. i. F
 
 66 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Had Sir Harry had to provide an income for the 
 young couple, he must have diminished his estab- 
 lishment and curtailed his own enjoyments. It 
 was Ormsby's pride, himself, and by his own 
 exertions, to surround his wife with luxuries and 
 elegancies generally grudged or withheld. He 
 resumed his profession took offices in Old- 
 borough clients flocked round the " honest 
 lawyer," as he was called and with the profits 
 of his profession, and the income he enjoyed as 
 the Earl's agent, Gerald was almost rich. 
 Honesty was thus openly opposed to Chicane, and 
 often carried the day. Envy of Gerald Ormsby's 
 success, his position in the county, his marriage 
 and connexions, was the gnawing familiar demon 
 of the Stubbs family. Old Stubbs, in spite of his 
 wealth and success, was of course visited by no- 
 body, or rather only by nobodies while Gerald 
 Ofcmsby, in spite of his profession, was a county 
 man, and probably would one day be a county 
 member. 
 
 He always smiled, shook hands, and spoke
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 67 
 
 cordially to Stubbs senior ; but of course he did 
 not expect his elegant, thorough-bred Almeria 
 to visit the overdressed, aspiring, impertinent 
 females of the Stubbs family. They had called 
 at Hazlewood, and Mrs. Ormsby had left her 
 cards at the large red brick mansion of Mr. 
 Stubbs ; but there the intercourse ended. Gerald 
 Ormsby had resolved it should, and nothing Mr. 
 Stubbs could do, availed against that resolve. 
 
 Old Stubbs felt this most bitterly, and railed 
 against Gerald Ormsby, as if the success of the 
 latter were a deadly and personal injury to 
 himself ; but such feelings are hereditary, and 
 the venom of all the Stubbs family against Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ormsby was undisguised. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE STUBBS FAMILY. 
 
 THE Stubbs family inhabited their dining-room 
 they had elegant drawing-rooms for show 
 but they never felt at home in them, and conse- 
 quently no one else did. When they were thrown 
 open, they had that cold, damp, close smell, and 
 stiff, formal air, common to show rooms among 
 little people. The show rooms of the 'vulgar, 
 and the state apartments of the great, have 
 
 nothing in common. 
 
 
 
 The Stubbs family were at tea a very im- 
 portant meal with them, for they dined early. 
 Old Stubbs never could accustom himself to late
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 69 
 
 dinners. Mrs. Stubbs, who in her heart pre- 
 ferred dining at the hour she had always been 
 used to, tried to account for what she considered 
 unfashionable, by professing herself an invalid, 
 and Smiley Stubbs and his sisters railed and 
 lamented in vain. 
 
 Dinner was always on the table at one, and tea 
 at six. Not, tea according to your notion, dear 
 reader ! with your fragment of toast or scroll of 
 thin French roll and butter ! The Stubbs's tea 
 was a repast as substantial Ss most dinners. The 
 massive silver teapot, (withTthe two S.S. inter- 
 twined by way of crest, in hbnour of the houses 
 of Smiley arid Stubbs,) contained an abundant 
 supply of Twinings' best souchong; a portly 
 dame, was flanked by her stately companion 
 full of fragrant mocha. 
 
 The corresponding basin and ewer were filled 
 with " sparkling lump" and richest cream, and no 
 epicure in tea-drinking could have complained of 
 any part of what the Minerva press used to call 
 the " tea equipage." But the new-laid eggs, the
 
 70 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 broiled ham, the chicken, tongue, game or 
 pigeon pies, buttered toast, tea-cakes, muffins 
 and crumpets, honeycomb, and preserves of 
 every variety, united to make something far 
 beyond what the Swiss call " un the'complet" 
 and was a repast to which in reality, the junior 
 members of the Stubbs family looked forward as 
 eagerly as did their parents. 
 
 The Ball was the all-engrossing topic, and 
 exultation in their own handsome dresses, wreaths, 
 gloves and bouquets, was heightened by ill- 
 natured on dits and prognostics about the 
 wretched contrivances, and poverty-stricken turn- 
 out of the proud De Veres. 
 
 Next to the Ormsbys, the De Veres were the 
 objects of the spite and witless sarcasms of these 
 vulgarians ; for, strange to say, Smiley Stubbs 
 had fallen desperately in love with Cecile De 
 Vere. They had met in early days at a dancing- 
 school, and to the delight of Master Smiley 
 Stubbs, and the annoyance of the even then 
 stately and aristocratic little girl, had, on account
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 71 
 
 of their similar height, been ordained by Mons. 
 Le Zephyr to figure together in several show 
 dances. It was during the absence of the pa- 
 rental De Veres on the continent, and while a 
 governess supplied the mother's place, that 
 Mons. Le Zephyr's " Academic " (a temporary 
 affair) was honoured by the Misses De Vere. 
 
 The fact was, Miss Crabbe had boldly in- 
 cluded a fashionable style of dancing in the list 
 of accomplishments she professed to impart. 
 Like Meadows in the farce, who thought he could 
 read, because he had never tried, she fancied she 
 could teach dancing because she had never tried 
 and, indeed, had never known any but the 
 old Scotch and Irish steps, once in vogue, and 
 which her mother had taught her. It was then 
 a great shock to her to find, by Mrs. De Vere's 
 letters from the South of France, that she at- 
 tached great importance to her daughters be- 
 coming proficients, in the modern style of French 
 dancing. 
 
 Miss Crabbe was, however, "une femme a
 
 72 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 ressources " she pretended a violent attack of 
 rheumatism in her legs, and, unauthorized by 
 Mrs. De Vere, she took her pupils regularly to 
 the class formed by Mons. Le Zephyr, and 
 attended by many of the county families, and 
 some of the towns-people's children. 
 
 Mons. Le Zephyr of course knew nothing of 
 the prejudices and esprit de corps of his differ- 
 ent pupils. 
 
 Master Stubbs was dressed to perfection, and 
 had a great talent for dancing. He was just 
 half a head taller than Cecile De Vere. She 
 was Mons. Le Zephyr's most promising dan- 
 seuse. And M. Le Zephy was as great an 
 autocrat as the Czar, and as determined as 
 Napoleon First or Third. 
 
 Master Stubbs was so essentially mean and 
 vulgar, that the scorn, hauteur, and even con- 
 tempt of the lovely little Cecile Da Vere only 
 added to the admiration her beauty and grace 
 inspired. 
 
 Long after the Academic had ceased to exist,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 73 
 
 and Mons. Le Zephyr had returned to live in 
 his cinquieme at Paris, on the fruits of his success 
 among Les Anglais si betes si maladroits, 
 Master Stubbs used to presume on that dancing- 
 school introduction, to bow to Cecile De Vere 
 whenever he could catch her cold and haughty 
 eye. An innate good breeding compelled the re- 
 luctant and disdainful bend she would gladly have 
 withheld altogether, and little did she imagine, 
 as her lip curled at the gorgeous vulgarity of 
 Smiley Stubbs' " get up" and " turn out," that 
 it was a passion for her proud, inaccessible self, 
 that had opened the purse of one, in whom Ava- 
 rice would have mastered Vanity, (perhaps) had 
 not Love, the master passion for a time, 
 even of a pettifogger, insisted on an amount 
 of outlay necessary to make Smiley Stubbs' 
 toilet and equipage the delight of his own eyes 
 and heart, and of those of all the vulgar belles 
 of Oldborough, and as he vainly hoped of that 
 proud, beautiful " tip-topper," as he called Cecile 
 De Vere.
 
 74 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Once a year, a costly, but most vulgar and 
 amorous Valentine shocked her eyes and offended 
 the taste of the De Veres ; but as there was no 
 intimation from whom the fat pink cupids, 
 ruby hearts, and spangled darts came, they 
 were consigned to the flames as soon as glanced 
 at. 
 
 On some occasions, and always when the ser- 
 vice was half over, Smiley Stubbs's vulgar, showy 
 " trap" would drive up to the venerable church- 
 yard of De Vere Court ; and in strange contrast 
 with its vermilion shafts and wheels, and the 
 knowing cockney look of Smiley Stubbs, his 
 horses and tiger, were the mouldering monu- 
 ments, dark massive yew trees, and time-stained 
 gothic church itself. 
 
 Then would Smiley Stubbs enter the quiet 
 church ; cropped, scented, moustachio; dressed 
 in the extreme of the fashion, with the glos- 
 siest and blackest of hats, whitest of buckskin 
 gloves, choicest of whips, with an eye-glass 
 and a vinaigrette in its handle ; a massive chain,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 75 
 
 a watch about the size of a florin, and a bunch 
 of charms a Bloomsbury dandizette might have 
 envied him, perched up on very high heels, and 
 colouring to the roots of his sandy hair, in spite 
 of the assumed nonchalance of his manner. 
 
 He would ostentatiously bestow half-a-crown 
 on the old gravedigger who officiated as pew- 
 opener, for placing him in a seat commanding a 
 view of the grand old family pew of the De 
 Veres, and the stately beauty this vulgar, sordid 
 wretch had yet the taste to idolize, and who, 
 with changeful cheek and eyes often moistened 
 by tears, was listening with rapt attention to 
 the deep, melancholy tones of her heart's idol, 
 Dudley Harcourt, whom, with the quick instinct 
 of jealousy, Smiley Stubbs already hated, and 
 designated as that " prig of a parson," but yet 
 owned, in his inmost heart, to be a " cut above 
 him," and " no end of bird." 
 
 If Smiley Stubbs completely failed in obtain- 
 ing one glance of recognition from his " superb 
 idol," he made, en revanche, sad havoc among
 
 76 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 the humbler hearts at that little country church, 
 and for the one guinea Valentine he sent through 
 the De Vere Post Office, some dozen of humbler 
 pretensions, but not less ardent professions, 
 passed through that same Post Office, and were 
 duly delivered at the red brick mansion of 
 " Stubbs and Son." 
 
 After all, vulgar, odious, and sordid as Smiley 
 Stubbs certainly was, there was something al- 
 most respectable in the constancy and incurable 
 devotion of his heart. We will not say that it 
 was exactly Love without Hope, because there 
 is no knowing what hope might have lurked in 
 the breast of the purse-proud coxcomb, who 
 knew that the De Veres were yearly growing 
 poorer and poorer, and himself and family richer 
 and richer. 
 
 " When the old bird ' drops/ " he would say 
 to his favourite sister Jemima, " the mortgagees 
 will seize all the girls won't have a hole to put 
 their heads in, nor the proud old mother either ; 
 then'll be my chance, Jenny. 111 get Oliver
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 77 
 
 Bathos, who wrote that novel you are so fond of, 
 the ' Poetry of Passion/ to write me a letter of 
 condolence, and wind up with the offer of my 
 hand and heart to Cecile, and a home for Amy 
 and the mother. He shall tip 'em a bit of the 
 heroic and sentimental, and I'll tip him a five 
 pound note, more than he got by his ' Poetry of 
 Passion/ " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know that," said Jemima, spite- 
 fully ; " he got board and lodging for three months 
 through that production." 
 
 "How so, Jem?" 
 
 " Why, his publisher threw him into prison 
 for three months for expenses, and he'd be there 
 now, only seeing he never could pay, he was 
 advised to go through the Insolvent Debtors' 
 Court, and is whitewashed." 
 
 " Well, he'll jump at five pounds for any 
 amount of love letters I want of him." 
 
 " Of course he will, poor scribbler ! and I 
 hope it will answer, Smiley. I should dearly 
 like to be able to pay back to those haughty De
 
 78 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Veres some of the slights and airs they've always 
 shewn us." 
 
 " Only by extreme kindness, Jem, and in re- 
 turning good for evil, remember that," said 
 Smiley, growing first very red, and then very 
 pale. " I love you, Jem, as you know ; but if I 
 ever saw a tear in Cecile's eyes, and knew you 
 sent it there, I should hate you ! . ." 
 
 " Oh, never fear, brother ; I only want to see 
 her humbled, not unhappy and to behold her 
 cottoning to Mar and Par, and studying you, 
 whom now she, 1 believe, thinks quite unworthy 
 to brush her shoes." 
 
 " I don't know any such thing ; high-born 
 people have a haughty manner, but they often 
 mean nothing by it." 
 
 " Did she mean nothing by returning those 
 verses you sent her ?" 
 
 " Oh, I dare say that was her Mar ; and I 
 beg, when she lives here-, you will do all you can 
 to make her happy, and reconcile her to the 
 name of Stubbs. As she is not an heiress, I
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 79 
 
 find I cannot take the name of De Vere by sign- 
 manual, but our first boy can be De Vere 
 Stubbs, which sounds very well." 
 
 " De Vere Smiley Stubbs," said Miss Jemima ; 
 "Mamma won't thank you for sinking the 
 Smiley." 
 
 "Ah!" thought the young lady, as she smoothed 
 her sandy ringlets, " wait till the knot's tied, 
 and then see if I don't pay her off all her airs 
 and graces, her slights and insults of years. 
 She shall have a fine time of it, I promise you, 
 Master Smiley !" she muttered to herself, as she 
 watched her brother horsewhipping his little 
 tiger, for some inaccuracy in the arrangements 
 of the turn out he was about to drive tandem 
 past De Vere Court in the hopes of being 
 seen by Cecile ! . . Oh love ! love !
 
 80 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 YCXUNG LOVE. 
 
 IT was while this very discussion took place 
 about Cecile's treatment, when Mrs. Smiley 
 Stubbs, that she, (for this account is retro- 
 spective), had, under the darkest yew tree of De 
 Vere churchyard, listened to Dudley Harcourt's 
 confession of deep, unalterable love, and pledged 
 herself, in the presence of the eternal heavens 
 and the mouldering tombs, to be the wife of his 
 bosom, and the partner of his life. 
 
 Ah ! how little, in that hour of sacred and 
 delicious joy, did either anticipate that, ere long, 
 those eyes so full of mutual love could exchange
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 81 
 
 glances of defiance ; those deep, earnest voices, 
 become vehicles of anger, contempt, and deri- 
 sion, and that a few words could sever those 
 who now clung together as if worlds would 
 never part them. Alas ! alas ! . . . How ra- 
 diant in happiness they paced the avenue, till 
 the moon came out to smile upon them. Is 
 that pale girl now weeping so bitterly in her 
 dark chamber, is that the affianced Cecile ? and 
 he, the man, wandering at night in the gloomy 
 woods of De Vere, is that the then joyous lover, 
 is that Dudley Harcourt ? 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SCANDAL. 
 
 THE Stubbs' tea-table was enlivened not 
 merely by the discussion of the approaching ball, 
 and the finery there to be exhibited ; but by the 
 exaggerated reports gaining like the snowball as 
 they rolled along, of the shifts and contrivances 
 to which the De Veres were put in order to make 
 any appearance at all on the important occasion. 
 
 Nor were the Stubbs family singular in the 
 interest they felt in this subject. All Oldborough 
 was alive with ill-natured curiosity, as to how the 
 poor, haughty, and beautiful De Veres would be 
 dressed ; and as next to the patrician De Veres,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 83 
 
 the purse-proud and plebeian Coxe family were 
 detested and envied, many rejoiced d'avance 
 in the idea that these " nouveaux riches" would, 
 in spite of their grand equipage and costly 
 apparel, have to yield precedence to the shabby 
 aristocrats. 
 
 The wives and daughters of rival surgeons, 
 as well as those of Lawyer Stubbs, ran up long 
 bills at obsequious milliners, because they knew 
 their papas were running up longer ones at 
 home ; and when smart fresh dresses arrived in 
 their black wicker baskets (wicker idols are not 
 confined to the Druids) and out came the fresh 
 aerial draperies of white, pink, blue, or amber 
 tarletan, crape or aerophane, decked with bright 
 fresh flowers, and accompanied by glistening 
 white satin shoes, choice wreaths, and spotless 
 and tastefully trimmed gloves, (all in wonderful 
 taste for a country town,) we blush for human 
 nature while we own that scarcely one heart, ex- 
 cept Eveline Coxe's, felt ought but exhilaration, 
 while contrasting this fresh and becoming attire 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 with the scanty, vamped-up, and faded dresses 
 in which the Miss De Veres, and their still lovely 
 mother, would again, it was maliciously whis- 
 pered, be compelled to appear. 
 
 All the men, whom the haughty beauties had 
 unconsciously slighted, (alas ! for the littleness of 
 envy and malice, even in the lords of the creation) 
 delighted to hear the ladies of their families exult 
 in the rumours afloat on this occasion. 
 
 A respectable old doctor, who ought, after 
 s ;'ixty years intimacy with anguish and death, to 
 have learnt the vanity of worldly things, chuckled 
 while his daughters told him how Miss De Vere 
 had sent to the chemist's for some cheap ingre- 
 dient to clean white kid gloves, and how their 
 Mamma had written for some expensive dye 
 which would convert a pale yellow into a bright 
 orange the pale yellow being doubtless that of 
 the faded lemon-coloured poplin in which she 
 had figured so often ! 
 
 Even the son of this worthy, took an unchival- 
 rous and unmanly pleasure in these details, and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 85 
 
 in wondering whether Farmer Giles's old cart 
 horses would be again harnessed to the rumbling 
 old family coach, and in anticipating " capital 
 sport," and that the old girl would " kick up no 
 end of row, and the young ones look uncommon 
 small." 
 
 " Oh, Smiley," said Jemima Stubbs, " it is 
 quite true those mean, old-fashioned dresses the 
 De Veres wore last year, they are going to re- 
 appear in them, only so much the worse." 
 
 " Like Thurtell," said Smiley, "for Wear;" 
 and he laughed at the dreadful old joke, borrowed 
 from one whom he called alternately " The 
 Governor," and " The Relieving Officer." 
 
 Smiley Stubbs was rather showily handsome, 
 and had some talent. He had taken a degree at 
 Cambridge, where he got into the worst set 
 of the very worst hall. He loved to figure in 
 London, as a " Regent Street Gent." His sisters 
 and their young lady friends considered him 
 " dashing ;" but his was a very vulgar dash, 
 infinitely more intolerable to such people as the
 
 86 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 De Veres, than the humblest insignificance. It 
 was a " dash" composed of slang, cigars, occa- 
 sional tandems, showy jewellery, extreme fashions, 
 overpowering perfumes, conceit, and effrontery.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 87 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE LATE REMORSE OF LOVE. 
 
 " And to be wrath with one we love. 
 Doth work like madness in the brain." 
 
 WHO ever quarrelled with the ONE dearer than 
 all the world beside, without feeling that the poet 
 must indeed have " learnt in suffering what he 
 taught in song." 
 
 Right or wrong, it matters little. There is 
 war where there should be peace distrust where 
 there should be confidence pride where there 
 should be the sweet humility of love self-asser- 
 tion where self should be merged in one dearer 
 than self. Cecile De Vere was the most to
 
 88 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 blame in the first actual quarrel that had estranged 
 her lover. Little disputes, little differences, small 
 " tiffs," and short-lived misunderstandings they 
 had known ; but a serious quarrel, never ! 
 
 In all their minor dissensions, Dudley Har- 
 court had spared no pains " to make up matters," 
 and in common parlance be friends " once more, 
 with one, who, from the darling of his heart, 
 was fast becoming the mistress of his thoughts ; 
 his soul's idol." 
 
 Dudley was, when he looked within, ashamed 
 of a subjugation in which reason had no share, 
 and passion so great a dominion ! He felt that 
 he had yielded, until Cecile had become exacting. 
 She was beginning to lose her respect for one 
 whose ready concessions, when she was in the 
 wrong, seemed to him now as if he had not 
 properly respected himself. This was not the 
 way to teach her humility, it was the way in 
 which pride grows into insolence. What had 
 charmed him in Cecile, was her dignity, her 
 lofty spirit, so well translated by her pure patri-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 89 
 
 cian beauty ; but when first he loved her, and 
 directly she loved him, a chastening tenderness, 
 and softening fear inseparable from true love, had 
 toned down the little hauteur and asperity of her 
 manner, and given to her beauty that sort of 
 heavenly softness which moonlight sends to an 
 Alpine scene. 
 
 Dudley Harcourt had not only been deeply 
 grieved at the want of filial respect Cecile had 
 shown towards her mother, he had been wounded, 
 offended, amazed, at the indomitable pride, the 
 unfeminine scorn, the contempt she had evinced 
 for one who was not only, as Amy had reminded 
 her, their spiritual pastor and guide, but the one 
 she had at first appeared to hold in that reve- 
 rence and esteem, without which it is impossible 
 for a woman to keep the vows she so solemnly 
 takes at the altar. 
 
 It is true indeed that not one woman in thou- 
 sands, nay, tens of thousands, feels, or wishes to 
 feel, that she can reverence her husband suffi- 
 ciently to " love, honour, and obey him," if she
 
 90 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 can like him well enough to put up with him ! 
 and get on with him at all! if she can 
 esteem him sufficiently not to show openly heiy 
 internal conviction of her own superiority ! f 
 that, if the man is desirable as a husband i 
 other respects, is generally considered by motheip 
 and daughters to be quite enough. / 
 
 The Mother says, " I got on pretty well with 
 your Papa, my love, although I always felt that, 
 as knowledge is power, and as intellect will al- 
 ways govern, my professing to look up to him 
 was a mere form. However, I did not actually 
 despise him ; for, though no Solomon, I was 
 lucky so far, that he was neither a fool nor a 
 brute. If a girl of sense and spirit is unfortu- 
 nate enough to marry a man that is one or both, 
 (and many of the male creation are both,) to love, 
 honour, or obey her husband would be simply 
 impossible ; and I suppose impossibilities are not 
 required even of a woman I" 
 
 This is the language of worldly mothers to 
 worldly daughters ; and the faults, or sins, that
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 91 
 
 poison wedded life can generally be traced to 
 their unwise selection. The same woman who 
 thoughtlessly unites her fate to a man she has 
 been persuaded to marry to please others, and 
 whom she scorns to honour or obey, would have 
 delighted to pay all the homage of her deep 
 woman-heart to one in whom her mind recog- 
 nized a superior being. But a good income, a 
 fine estate, a dashing equipage, an ancient name, 
 even good connections or fine expectations, have 
 more weight with the young girl's counsellors 
 than any intellectual or moral excellence, which 
 alone can entitle a man to rule over a good and 
 gifted woman ; and if such women were resolved 
 not to give themselves to the sensual, the fri- 
 volous, the vicious, and the ill-educated, men 
 would take more pains to fit themselves, by in- 
 tellectual and moral culture, for the dominion 
 they aim at. For there is no man so ignorant, 
 so soulless, or so vicious, that he does not con- 
 sider himself, if his worldly advantages enable 
 him to marry a refined, intellectual, and virtuous
 
 92 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 woman, as much that woman's lord and master 
 as his ancestors were the lords and masters of 
 their wives, in the dreadful old times of Baron 
 et Femme.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE FAULT-FINDER. 
 
 EVERYTHING went wrong at the breakfast- 
 table at the Hall, on a fine September morning, 
 all sunshine and fresh, soft western breezes with- 
 out, and all gloom and breezes of another kind 
 within. 
 
 Sir Thomas Coxe, always in the worst of 
 tempers, was in a state of extra irritation on this 
 lovely morning. He had heard shots fired in 
 his choicest preserves ; and, although he had 
 run himself out of breath, and knocked down 
 his gamekeeper in his uncontrollable ill-temper, 
 he had failed to discover the offender ; while
 
 94 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 the gamekeeper,, a very sturdy, valuable servant, 
 a most respectable man, who respected himself, 
 had thrown up his place on the instant, told Sir 
 Thomas he was no gentleman, and set off to 
 Oldborough, to commence an action for assault 
 and battery. 
 
 All this was bad enough, but this was not all. 
 Coming home, he found his little girls tying the 
 tops of some favourite young fancy larches toge- 
 ther to make a bower, while Major Longbow 
 Miles was sitting by their pretty young gover- 
 ness, a great favourite of Sir Thomas's, and his 
 head so completely shaded under her parasol, 
 and his whole manner and attitude so much 
 that of a very forward, flirting admirer, that Sir 
 Thomas, who suffered no one to flirt with Miss 
 Clare but himself, wisely darted off in another 
 direction, to avoid another action for assault and 
 battery. 
 
 Then Eveline was not down to make the tea, 
 for Sir Thomas rang for prayers half an hour 
 earlier than usual.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 95 
 
 And Miss Coxe, hastening down, inquired 
 where Major Longbow Miles was, for his door 
 was open ; and seeing him rushing across the 
 lawn, she, too, felt sure he had been waylaying 
 " that pert pedant, Miss Clare," and she began to 
 assail her father with an oft-refused request, 
 that he would dismiss that odious Clare. 
 
 And in the midst of all this, Lady Coxe came 
 down very cross and very sallow, fastening her 
 brooch, and with her bracelets in her hand ; and 
 Eveline darted in with many apologies, and pale 
 with terror, just as the scarlet bottle-nose of the 
 Major peeped in at the door, and pretty Miss 
 Clare, fresh as a rose and very sedate, led on her 
 little, heated, panting, crimson rebels ; and the 
 servants entered, slow and grave ; and Sir Tho- 
 mas Coxe, making a sign to all to kneel, said, 
 "Let us pray;" and in a loud, angry voice 
 seemed rather to demand than implore every- 
 thing good for the souls and bodies of all pre- 
 sent, and in the tones of a war-trumpet begged 
 for that peace that passeth all understanding.
 
 96 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Family prayer over, Miss Coxe said, " Papa, 
 had not Miss Clare and the children better 
 breakfast in the school-room to-day, as we have 
 company?" glancing at the Major with no 
 gentle eye. 
 
 "No!" shouted Sir Thomas Coxe; "and 
 silence ! while I say grace !" 
 
 " I never was used to grace at breakfast," 
 said Lady Coxe, " and yet my parents were very 
 pious." 
 
 " Very impious, in my opinion, if they ne- 
 glected to say grace before the first meal of the 
 day. But, whatever they did, or did not, mat- 
 ters little. I am master here, and grace shall 
 never be omitted where I am." 
 
 " I wish you would not banish it so entirely 
 from your manners, Sir Thomas," said the lady. 
 " Of all men in the world, some one I could 
 name is the most ungracious and ungraceful." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I do not think if I am 
 deficient in grace you can instruct me how to 
 improve in that respect, nor can your daughters ;
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 97 
 
 Miss Coxe is too much of an amazon, Eveline 
 of a school-girl. I think I must beg Miss 
 Clare to give me a few hints she, at least, is 
 always easy, affable, and polite." 
 
 "You are joking, Sir Thomas," said Miss 
 Clare ; "I am sure my Lady will agree with 
 me, that it is ill-temper that gives that angu- 
 larity to the gestures, and that sharpness to 
 the looks and tones which are so terribly at 
 variance with the undulating laws of Grace." 
 
 " It is very easy," said Lady Coxe, " for peo- 
 ple who have no cares, no trials, no expenses, 
 anxieties or responsibilities to be very amiable . . " 
 
 " Well," growled Sir Thomas, " then you, 
 my dear, ought to be very amiable. Your 
 cares you cast on me, on your housekeeper, 
 and on Miss Clare ; your expenses I have to 
 provide for ; your trials are solely from your own 
 temper, and your anxieties and responsibilities 
 are all cast upon Miss Clare and me." 
 
 "How upon Miss Clare, Papa?" said Miss 
 Coxe, who was a very sandy, not to say carrotty, 
 
 
 
 VOL., I. H
 
 98 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 sharp-featured, small-eyed, freckled, tall, bony, 
 and irate Miss, not in her " teens," but her 
 
 " ties." 
 
 " Why, surely the education of your sisters, 
 and their moral and mental training is your 
 mother's chief anxiety and responsibility," 
 growled Sir Thomas; "and let me tell you, 
 Miss Coxe, after the ruinous sums your educa- 
 tion has cost, if you were to lend a helping 
 hand, and try to impart a little of what you 
 learnt or, at any rate, what I paid for, at 
 Mesdames De Bonton's and Bel Esprits it 
 would be only doing your duty." 
 
 " Oh, Papa ! I have no nerves for the irri- 
 tating drudgery of teaching," said Miss Coxe ; 
 " I declare, I have such a horror of teaching, that 
 if I were ndt a lady, and had to earn a livelihood, 
 I would go on the stage." 
 
 " Yes, just to be hissed off," sneered Sir Tho- 
 mas; " and let me tell you, Georgiana, many girls 
 very much your superior in birth and breeding, 
 are obliged to have nerves for teaching, and if
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL/ r 9 
 
 you have not, at least let r m/e see a little more 
 consideration for those who have. What vile 
 
 tea this is, Eveline," he added, spitefully, empty- 
 
 * f 
 ing his cup into the slop basin-; " Miss Clare, 
 
 
 
 give me a cup of your coffee at least, if you 
 can recommend it.'* r 
 
 " Oh yes, it is made by my #wfi direction, 
 and in my own biggin, after the fashion I brought 
 from Paris," said Miss Clare. 
 
 " It is the only good cup of coffee I ever had 
 in this house," said Sir Thomas. " Can you 
 spare the Major a cup ?",- 
 
 " Certainly," said Miss Clare. 
 
 " And/' rejoined Sir Thomas, " Major Long- 
 bow Miles, help Miss Clare to some game pie 
 or some chicken for I see Lady Coxe and 
 Georgiana have sacked the pie." 
 
 " A merry thought, Miss Clare ?" said the 
 Major. 
 
 " Yes," replied Miss Clare, " and some tongue 
 to give it expression." 
 
 " Brava !" said Sir Thomas, praising Miss 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Clare, not so much to please her, as to spite 
 his wife and daughter. " A new idea on 
 a very old subject what say you to that, 
 Major ?" 
 
 The Major was in a fix. He was at the 
 e Hall" as a beau of Miss Coxe's, and Miss 
 Coxe had ten thousand pounds ; but he was a 
 desperate old flirt, and Miss Clare was very 
 pretty, and Miss Clare was tired of being a 
 governess, and she knew the Major was a mar- 
 rying man, and very well off. 
 
 She rather liked him, for he was very gallant, 
 good-humoured, amusing, popular, admirably 
 dressed, full of compliments, and in his heart a 
 good deal smitten with the pretty governess. 
 Miss Clare had quite made up her mind, if pos- 
 sible, to cut out Miss Coxe, and become Mrs. 
 Longbow Miles ; but as Miss Coxe had also de- 
 termined on securing the Major, his fate at pre- 
 sent is undecided. 
 
 " I hate all puns about tongue and merry- 
 thoughts," said Miss Coxe.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 101 
 
 " Of course you do," said her father, " for 
 you have not wit to hit on anything new." 
 
 " Besides," said Miss Clare, " Miss Coxe has 
 been so piously disposed this morning ;" and she 
 pointed laughingly to the empty crust of the 
 game pie, and the pile of bones on Miss Coxe's 
 plate. 
 
 This turned the laugh against Miss 
 Coxe. 
 
 Even the Major burst out laughing, to the 
 unspeakable rage of the furious Georgiana. Sir 
 Thomas indulged in prolonged shouts of laughter, 
 partly real, partly affected, to annoy his wife and 
 daughter. 
 
 The Major glanced with great admiration, 
 through tears caused by the violence of his pro- 
 tracted cachinnations, at the self-possessed insou- 
 ciante Miss Clare, who was urging her little 
 pupils to finish their breakfast. 
 
 The Major had a great admiration for witty 
 women, and Miss Clare rose in his estimation, 
 and Miss Coxe sank in proportion.
 
 102 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " What are your plans for this morning, Ma- 
 jor ?" asked Sir Thomas. 
 
 " Nay, what are her Ladyship's ?" said the 
 Major. 
 
 " Thank you, Major," said Lady Coxe, " Sir 
 Thomas always forgets to consult the Lady of , 
 the House." 
 
 " We had thought of riding to see the new 
 exotics at the Botanic Gardens," said Eveline, 
 timidly. 
 
 " Are Mr. Dudley Harcourt and Mr. Mowbray 
 to be there?" sneered Miss Coxe. 
 
 " I believe they are," said Eveline, blushing 
 crimson. 
 
 " I shall not go," said Lady Coxe ; " I have a 
 headache, and cannot stand the sun." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to escort the ladies," 
 said the Major. 
 
 " I shall not go," said Miss Coxe, tossing her 
 head ; " I sprained my wrist the last time 
 I rode ' Dart,' and I shall not mount him 
 again."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 103 
 
 " I will ride ' Dart,' sister, and you can have 
 ' Mayflower.' " 
 
 " No, I shall not go at all. I have a new 
 book to read, and some new music to try." 
 
 The two little, laughing, rosy girls, were 
 whispering to their Papa, and glancing at the 
 Major, when suddenly Sir Thomas Coxe said, 
 " Well, yes, my dears, as your Mamma has a 
 head-ache, and Georgiana is resolved to stay at 
 home and of course would like to be quiet 
 you shall have a holiday, with Miss Clare's leave, 
 and go to the Gardens. Miss Clare, are you 
 afraid to ride 'Dart?'" 
 
 " Oh, not at all," replied Miss Clare, en- 
 chanted at the idea. 
 
 " Pray have you riding gear, Miss Clare ?" 
 asked Lady Coxe. 
 
 " I have two habits," said Eveline ; " I can 
 lend Miss Clare one." 
 
 " And the children ?" said Lady Coxe. 
 
 " Nurse shall go with them in the pony 
 chaise," said Sir Thomas. " James shall drive,
 
 104 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and the Major shall escort Eveline and Miss 
 Clare on horseback." 
 
 The children were dancing and shouting for 
 joy; Miss Coxe was looking daggers at the 
 Major, and Lady Coxe was deciding in her own 
 mind that if it were not so much trouble, she 
 would get rid of Miss Clare. 
 
 But the snug party were soon ready, and a 
 basket of luxuries was hastily packed for this 
 picnic under the direction of the Major, who 
 took care not to let " the wine be left behind." 
 
 Gaily they all set off Miss Clare, Eveline, 
 the nurse and the children, and the purple 
 Major ! 
 
 Sir Thomas was to join them at the Botanical 
 Gardens in time for dinner ! . . . 
 
 Lady Coxe and Miss Coxe, livid with rage, 
 were in the breakfast-room, boiling over. Sir 
 Thomas turned in to have it out with them, and 
 the furious discussion was at its height, and 
 from " words" they (Sir Thomas and Lady Coxe) 
 had almost come to " blows," when the butler
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 105 
 
 entered, aghast and pale, followed by two 
 constables, who came to carry Sir Thomas be- 
 fore the nearest magistrate, on a charge of 
 assaulting and ill-using Jeremy Snipes, game- 
 keeper. In the end, Sir Thomas was fined ten 
 pounds -was bound over to keep the peace, and 
 having made an apology, and taken Snipes back 
 into his service, joined the merry picnic party w 
 time for dinner,
 
 106 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE TYRANT SLAVE. 
 
 POOR Dudley Harcourt ! he knew he deserved 
 to be reverenced, even hy Cecile De Vere. 
 The formation of her mind, her temper, and 
 her opinions, was naturally one of his duties 
 since she was one of his parishioners, and the 
 immense power her love for him, and her en- 
 gagement to him, gave him over her heart, ren- 
 dered,the task easy. He felt contrite and abashed 
 when he recollected that in the intoxicating 
 delight of loving and pleasing her, he had been 
 fostering that pride and disdain, which were her 
 besetting sins, and that actually at that moment
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL, 10? 
 
 she was less fit to be his wife than she had been 
 when first he had conceived the enchanting notion 
 that she might one day be his. 
 
 Dudley Harcourt was very miserable, as day 
 succeeded day, and no note from Cecile expressed 
 any feeling of contrition or even regret. He had 
 fancied that before she retired to rest she would 
 have confessed her fault and implored his pardon, 
 and that early in the morning he should have 
 heard Mabel's gentle little knock at the parsonage 
 door. He had no idea what it cost a De Vere 
 to own a fault and ask forgiveness. 
 
 Cecile I And in the pride of her youth and 
 beauty, to beg Dudley Harcourt's pardon, as if 
 she were afraid of losing a lover, of dying an old 
 maid ! No, he should see that she had not so 
 mean, so spaniel a spirit ! If he could bear to 
 be estranged from her, she could do very well 
 without him. 
 
 " It must be, Amy," she said to her sister, 
 " it must be as Mamma said. Familiarity has 
 bred contempt ; I have made myself too cheap ;
 
 108 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 I have shown him too much of the tenderness 
 his apparent devotion was beginning to awaken 
 in me ! Do you think when first we were 
 engaged he would have treated me thus ? No, 
 indeed, why at the slightest coldness he would 
 turn pale and tremble ; and I remember, when 
 merely in a little innocent coquetry, I called him 
 ' Mr. Harcourt' instead of ' Dudley' when he 
 went away at night, I saw the tears in his eyes, 
 and long before I was up, Mabel had taken in a 
 note and a bouquet from him, for me : and when 
 I went down to make the tea, I found him wait- 
 ing outside the library window, very pale, and 
 really quite ill with the fear that something he 
 had done, or left undone, had offended me ! And 
 this same man, because he thinks himself sure 
 of my affection, can give himself such airs as 
 these ! Find fault with me, school me, rebuke 
 me, leave me in anger, and take no pains to effect 
 a reconciliation !" 
 
 " I think you wrong him, Cecile," Amy had 
 replied. " I am certain that he loves you more
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL 109 
 
 than ever, and still, if he fancied he had in any 
 way slighted or offended you, would be as mise- 
 rable and as anxious as he was on the occasion 
 you allude to. But this is a different matter, 
 Cecile ! He thinks you have shown a defiance 
 and contempt which prove that even if you love, 
 you do not respect him ; and much as he loves, 
 nay idolises you, his principles and opinions are 
 such, that I feel certain if he thought you incapa- 
 ble of that sort of love which forms his beau 
 ideal of a wife's affection, he would break with 
 you ; his doing so might be his death, for you 
 are his all in all ; but he would do it." 
 
 " And if he doesn't, I will !" said Cecile, with 
 flashing eyes. " I am not made to be a slave, 
 and that he shall see." 
 
 Cecile was at her morning toilet while this 
 conversation took place. Three days had passed 
 drearily away since the evening of that First 
 Lover's Quarrel with Dudley Harcourt. Dudley 
 had not been to De Vere Court since ; no mes- 
 sage, no meeting on either side. Yet, generally
 
 110 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 the young Vicar called soon after breakfast, 
 walked, read, practised singing and the organ 
 with Cecile and Amy, and took them with him 
 to teach in the schools, and to visit the poor and 
 the sick. The time had seemed intolerably 
 heavy to Cecile, since her estrangement from 
 her lover, she not only lost his enchanting 
 presence, his love-prompted attentions, and his 
 bright, intellectual conversation, but all her most 
 
 interesting and engrossing pursuits were mixed 
 
 t 
 up with him. 
 
 The Misses De Vere had been working heart 
 and soul with the young Vicar in the parish. 
 The choir, the schools, the poor, the sick, all under 
 his wise guidance were beginning to reap the 
 advantage of possessing, instead of an aged and 
 easy divine of the old school, a young earnest and 
 zealous clergyman of the present day. Dudley 
 was trying to establish the daily service, and that 
 in a village where hitherto, as the late Vicar had 
 another cure in the adjoining parish, there had 
 only been one service on Sunday. Of course he
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. Ill 
 
 met with great opposition. Sir Thomas Coxe 
 called himself a staunch Protestant, and unaware 
 that at his ordination every Protestant Priest 
 undertakes to perform the Church Service 
 daily, thought it his duty to sneer at what he 
 considered Papistical. Sir Thomas Coxes abode 
 was called the Hall ; it was a large modern 
 pillared building, standing on grounds that had 
 belonged to a De Vere, when the Cox es were 
 
 small traders on Fish Street Hill, and it contri- 
 
 
 
 buted to Dudley's early morning congregation 
 only Eveline Coxe, and occasionally her brother 
 Ferdinand when he was at home from College. 
 Amy and Cecile had never missed, since first 
 they had promised Dudley to be present, until 
 the morning after that first fatal quarrel, when 
 Cecile, to Amy's deep distress, told her that she 
 had a headache, and should not leave her room 
 all day. Amy saw by her manner and the ex- 
 pression of her countenance that it would be vain 
 to remonstrate, and she went alone. 
 
 Amy was in hopes, as Cecile and herself always
 
 112 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 officiated as organists at the early morning ser- 
 vice, that Dudley would not be aware of Cecile's 
 absence. She tried to play with the aplomb and 
 expression of Cecile ; but the anxiety of her heart 
 made her hands tremble so, that instead of sur- 
 passing herself, she had never played so badly. 
 It was always on these occasions a very, very 
 small congregation, and the few that attended 
 seemed to do so rather out of personal regard 
 for the young Vicar and the Misses De Vere, 
 than from duty to God, or care for their souls. 
 The school, of course attended, and here and 
 there a rusty old black bonnet, and time-stained 
 red cloak, marked out some old pensioner of 
 Dudley's, Amy's, or Cecile's, who said and 
 thought, that " she wished to make some return 
 for their good kindness, and hadn't the heart to 
 stay away when they'd so begged her to come- 
 particular after that warm flannel petticoat and 
 new shoes." Here and there too, worn-out 
 old labourers, no longer considered worthy of 
 their hire, knelt with rickety knees on the
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 113 
 
 rickety boards, and the palsy which shook their 
 heads had not reached their hearts, for, as they 
 said, " they loved to oblige the dear young Parson 
 who was as good as a son to them." 
 
 De Vere church was very large and very 
 lofty, and on those occasions used to look very 
 empty, and Dudley Harcourt's fine voice, waking 
 the echoes around, had a hollow and solemn 
 sound. 
 
 On this morning the attendance was unusually 
 thin. Amy stole a glance at Dudley through 
 the crimson silk curtains that concealed the 
 choir; she saw with pain that he looked even 
 paler than usual, very sorrowful, and somewhat 
 stern and resolute. Eveline Coxe was in the 
 gorgeous pew belonging to her purse-proud 
 family, and by her side sate one, whose unex- 
 pected presence sent " the orient blush of quick 
 surprise," and perhaps of a livelier feeling still, 
 to Amy's soft face. She only caught one 
 glimpse of a head of clustering, dark, auburn 
 hair ; a frank bold, regular profile, and a large 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 dark eye, and then she drew back into a corner, 
 let down her thick veil, and drew her shawl 
 around her, and the next time she had to play 
 her cold and trembling fingers would scarcely 
 move over the keys, and her voice, which in 
 Cecile's absence had to lead the choir, failed her 
 entirely. Amy felt very angry with herself, 
 that even under that roof the thought that he 
 would be at the Oldborough ball, would flash 
 across her heart with a sort of electricity of joy. 
 
 And then she was conscious of a wish equally 
 reprehensible, that she could appear in something 
 more becoming and modish than the old dress 
 which had never before seemed to her fancy so 
 old-fashioned and so much to be deplored. 
 
 Amy resolutely drove both these worldly feel- 
 ings, the joy and the regret, from her mind ; 
 what was Ferdinand Coxe to her ? what could 
 he ever be to her ? Had she not witnessed the 
 indignation and the scorn with which his eldest 
 brother's offer to Cecile had been refused ? Fer- 
 dinand was as unlike Thomas as possible, but
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 115 
 
 he was still a Coxe, and what could a Coxe 
 expect from the united houses of Lorraine and 
 De Vere? 
 
 Amy felt very sad, as, the service over, she 
 busied herself among the music books, until she 
 hoped that both the Coxes and Dudley had left 
 the church and the churchyard. 
 
 She did not wish Dudley to see that Cecile 
 was not with her ; not only she thought it would 
 wound him deeply, but that Cecile would sink 
 in his opinion, for suffering a quarrel with him 
 to influence her in a matter of religious duty. 
 
 " If once she lowers herself in his opinion, 
 and loses his confidence and esteem," thought 
 Amy, " his love will not suffice, and he himself 
 will break off the match ! and what will that not 
 be to Cecile ! Not only she loves him, in spite 
 of this foolish quarrel, with all the devotion of a 
 proud, passionate heart, that loves for the first 
 time, but to be resigned, rejected, cast off as it 
 were, will humble her to the dust. What can I 
 do to save her from a misery and a mortifica- 
 
 I 2
 
 116 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 tion, her present haughty, petulant, and ill-judged 
 resentment will entail upon her. If once Dud- 
 ley feels convinced that she does not look up to 
 him, and love him, with the sort of love he 
 looks for in a wife, he will break with her even 
 if his own peace and happiness are sacrificed 
 with his engagement and yet he is wrong ; he 
 might mould her, he might form her, he might 
 subdue her pride. 
 
 " She is capable of loving him so tenderly, of 
 being all he would have her but how can I, her 
 sister, with her dignity to keep up, tell him this ? 
 and how certain they both are, in their 
 present moods, to doom themselves to eternal 
 regrets, and ' the late remorse of love. ' "
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 11? 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 
 
 WHEN Amy left the church, she saw at the 
 further end of the churchyard, which adjoined 
 the Vicarage garden, and standing at its gate, 
 Eveline and Ferdinand Coxe in close conversa- 
 tion with Dudley Harcourt. It had been a 
 rainy autumn morning, but the sun had come 
 out and shone full on the pale, classic features, 
 and clustering fair hair of Dudley ; who, in his 
 Master of Arts' gown and red hood, and his 
 college cap, looked singularly picturesque and 
 interesting as the sun slanted upon him through 
 the dark boughs of the yew. He was smiling
 
 118 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 in reply to something Eveline Coxe had said, 
 but it was a mournful smile ; on perceiving 
 Amy, he bowed ; Eveline kissed her hand, and 
 Ferdinand raised his hat. For one moment 
 Dudley Harcourt seemed disposed to turn from 
 the gate and approach Amy De Vere, but the 
 next he changed his mind, opened the wicket- 
 gate and ushered Eveline and Ferdinand Coxe 
 into his garden. 
 
 " Cecile will cross-question me," thought 
 Amy, " and here will be a new offence. She 
 was always disposed to be jealous of poor Eve- 
 line, and now she will feel certain that Dudley is 
 transferring his affections." 
 
 Unwilling to meet her sister, Amy lingered in 
 the flower garden, visited her poultry and rab- 
 bits, went into the breakfast room and made the 
 tea, and finally went up to the dressing-room 
 which she shared with Cecile. 
 
 To her surprise, the latter, whom she had left 
 lying on her bed in her wrapper, and complain- 
 ing of a head-ache, she found, up, rather flushed,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 119 
 
 somewhat excited, and dressed with unusual 
 care. Her hair was braided as Cecile seldom 
 braided it, except for Dudley a white muslin 
 dress, trimmed with pink ribbons, and a jaunty 
 little black satin apron, set off her singular beauty 
 to great advantage. This white dress, of a fine 
 embroidered muslin, was Cecile's best dress, and 
 Amy was amazed to see her in it. 
 
 " Where are you going Cecile ?" she asked. 
 " Why are you 4w*&?" ,-* t- &*&* 
 
 " I am not going anywhere," replied Cecile, 
 with assumed cheerfulness ; " but we have com- 
 pany to breakfast look here, Mamma has just 
 sent me this ; she says Papa has had a very bad, 
 disturbed night, and she is so worn out she 
 cannot get up, so we must receive Mr. Claver- 
 house, who comes from no less important a 
 person than Mamma's uncle, Lord Rockalpine 
 read this letter, Amy." 
 
 " Hotel des Princes, Paris. 
 
 " MY DEAR NIECE, 
 
 " It is many years since you and I have
 
 120 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 met. I am getting very old and very grey ; and 
 as the Present grows hourly more ' stale, flat, 
 and unprofitable/ and the Future dwindles to 
 the shortest span, my thoughts and feelings 
 centre a good deal in that Past, in which a cer- 
 tain fair, golden-haired little niece, yclept Cecilia 
 Lorraine, was a very prominent figure. I wish 
 much to know how your 'love match' turned 
 out, and of what your family consists. I am 
 willing to let bye-gones be bye-gones; and, 
 though I have, as you know, little but good 
 wishes to offer, I should like to kiss the cheek 
 of my little ' Cis' before I die. Mr. Claverhouse 
 is going to spend a week or two at my shooting- 
 box, near Oldborough. Perhaps your husband 
 can help him to some good shooting. At any 
 rate, any attention you show him will oblige 
 me ; and I shall hear from him and, I hope, 
 from you too, everything I want to know. 
 " I am, dear Cis, 
 
 Your affectionate Uncle, 
 
 " ROCKALPINE."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 121 
 
 " Well, with this letter came a note. Here 
 it is : 
 
 " 'Mr. Claverhouse will be shooting to-morrow 
 morning in the neighbourhood of De Vere 
 Court, and will take the liberty of calling at 
 Mrs. De Vere's breakfast hour, and of asking 
 her to give him a cup of coffee, in return for 
 tidings of her Uncle, his friend, the Earl of 
 Rockalpine. Mr. Claverhouse hopes to present 
 himself at Mrs. De Vere's breakfast table at nine 
 o'clock.'" 
 
 " It wants a quarter to nine," said Cecile, " so 
 you have just time to change your dress, Amy, 
 while I go down, and make what improvements 
 I can in our scanty breakfast. Oh! by the 
 bye, who was at church?" 
 
 " Old Giles, and Job Trotter, and Matthew 
 Potter, and Simon Shake, and poor old Mrs. 
 Grumble, and Molly Brake, and Phillis Furrow. 
 Yes, and old Winfred, and Patty Whine the 
 school children, of course. It rained, so the 
 church was very thinly attended."
 
 122 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " No one else ? not Eveline Coxe ?" 
 " Oh, yes Eveline and Ferdinand Coxe." 
 " Did Mr. Harcourt speak to you ?" 
 NO I tried to keep out of his way." 
 " Did he speak to them ?" 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I dare say he asked them in. They are 
 always getting into his garden under some pre- 
 tence or other." 
 Amy did not reply. 
 "Did he ask them in?" 
 " Yes ! And they went with him ?" 
 " Of course they did ; but what of that?" 
 " Oh ! nothing," said Cecile, deadly pale, and 
 tears starting to her eyes. " Make haste, I'm 
 going to send to old Giles for cream and eggs. 
 Be quick, and dress in white." 
 
 Cecile and Amy De Vere sate together in 
 the breakfast-room, awaiting the arrival of Mr. 
 Claverhouse. The quaint, old, embossed silver 
 coffee and tea service, and the delicate, antique 
 china, adorned with the De Vere arms, gave
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 123 
 
 an aristocratic elegance to the breakfast table, 
 although none of the viands usually to be found 
 on a table covered with such a damask, and 
 adorned by such solid silver and delicate porce- 
 lain, were to be found there. The home-made 
 loaf, and some fresh butter and honeycomb from 
 Farmer Giles's, seemed very simple fare, when 
 contrasted with such armorial bearings ; and all 
 Cecile was able to do was to add a few new-laid 
 eggs and rashers of bacon to the simple repast. 
 
 Great, then, was her surprise and satisfaction, 
 when she was told that Mrs. Giles herself 
 begged the honour of a moment's speech with 
 her. The object of that good old lady's visit 
 was to say that, having heard from Mabel, who 
 had been sent to the farm for the cream and 
 eggs, that a visitor was coming unexpectedly to 
 breakfast at the Court, sent there by Madam's 
 own uncle, the Earl of Rockalpine, she had 
 taken the liberty of bringing over a large game 
 pie which she had made the day before for Farmer 
 Giles himself, and had, as it was baking-day,
 
 124 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 brought a few hot rolls with her, fresh from the 
 oven. 
 
 No present ever came more a propos. It 
 was a noble pie, or rather pasty. Mrs. Giles 
 was famous for her pastry ; and such was the 
 reverence for the De Veres, of this good woman, 
 whose mother and grandmother had been house- 
 keepers in the family, that she considered Cecile's 
 gracious acceptance of the offering as a great 
 honour done her, and felt sure Farmer Giles 
 would share her feeling. 
 
 The dejeuner was now all Cecile could wish ; 
 and the two sisters formed a charming contrast, 
 in their soft, white, muslin dresses ; pink bows 
 setting off Cecile's dark-brown hair and rich 
 complexion and sky-blue knots making Amy's 
 snow-drop skin look fairer still, and her golden 
 hair more delicately bright. 
 
 The room used by the De Veres as a break- 
 fast room was in reality the library, just the sort 
 of quaint, old room, panneled with dark oak 
 between the book-cases, with gothic windows,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 125 
 
 partly of stained glass, and rich, old, crimson 
 draperies, that painters delight to represent and 
 enliven by figures of the days of the cavaliers. 
 
 It was a lovely autumn morning so warm 
 that, although a fire of logs added to the pic- 
 turesque beauty and comfortable air of the room, 
 it was pleasant to have the windows open, and 
 let the fresh faces of the monthly roses, and the 
 emerald leaves and tempting clusters of grapes, 
 white and purple, peep into the room. The 
 floor was of polished oak ; and an old but still 
 rich turkey carpet covered the centre. There 
 were seats in the deep recesses of the windows, 
 covered with crimson cushions. All the furni- 
 ture was of black oak, richly carved, and crimson 
 velvet, originally so good that time seemed to 
 have no power to wear out its texture or dim 
 its hue, which was that of the richest ruby. 
 On the rug lay a fine old English bloodhound, 
 Hubert by name, and a tiny snow-white French 
 poodle, a little ball of snowy curls, Cecile's pet ; 
 while, in perfect amity with the canine pets, a
 
 126 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 large, round-faced, carrotty tom-cat, Rufus by 
 name, a great darling of Amy's, purred his 
 approval he always did so of the preparations 
 for breakfast. 
 
 " I think I had better make the tea and order 
 the coffee," said Cecile. "It is half-past nine. 
 Papa and mamma must be sadly in want of 
 their breakfast. Mamma means to come down 
 and speak to Mr. Claverhouse herself, Amy, if 
 we can detain him till she is dressed. I have 
 never seen her, poor dear mother ! so pleased or 
 so excited as she is by this unexpected notice 
 from Lord Rockalpine. I had no idea she cared 
 so much for one whose great unkindness to her 
 always made me compare him to the uncle in 
 the ' Babes in the Wood.' She says he was a 
 father to her till she offended him by not mar- 
 rying a nobleman he had selected for her, his 
 own great friend ; and that he foretold, in order 
 to deter her from uniting herself to a ruined 
 man, much of the misery and mortification she 
 has had to endure. She thinks now, if Mr.
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. 
 
 Claverhouse makes a good report of us, Lord 
 Rockalpine may invite us to Paris, or come to 
 his shooting-box here ; and, though he is poor 
 (for a peer), yet what is poverty to him, would 
 be affluence and splendour to us." 
 
 " But you would not like to go to Paris, 
 Cecile, would you, even if Lord Rockalpine did 
 invite us ?" said Amy. 
 
 " Why not ?" asked Cecile, her cheek flush- 
 ing, and a proud fire in her eye. 
 
 " Because Dudley Harcourt so dreads and 
 dislikes Paris," replied Amy. 
 
 " Dudley Harcourt, Amy, is not acting in a 
 way to make me care much what he likes or 
 dislikes. I have been a great deal too gentle, 
 submissive, and malleable in his cold hands. I 
 cannot think what has made me appear to him 
 the very reverse of what I really am. I have 
 not intended to deceive him, and I cannot con- 
 ceive what has caused me to assume the Griselda. 
 I fear I have more of the Vashti than the 
 Esther in my composition. What can have
 
 128 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 made me, I, who scorn all seeming, act more 
 like the latter." 
 
 " Love !" said Amy. 
 
 " Love ! and he could inspire such love in 
 my proud heart, as to change my very nature, 
 and then insult, neglect, and slight me thus ! It 
 was not by censure, rebuke, disdain, and cold 
 neglect he won my heart ; but by them he shall 
 lose it. Every hour that stretches its cold gloom 
 between us, Amy, adds to my conviction that he 
 is unworthy of me. I am glad I have discovered 
 that though love's fetters are wreathed with 
 roses, they are fetters still. I was becoming a 
 slave, sister ! And slaves make tyrants. There 
 would be no tyrants among men if women would 
 not be slaves. It is well Dudley reveals himself 
 before it is too late. If it is misery now to find 
 he can trample on the heart he has won, it would 
 be madness had I discovered it when bound to 
 him ' by the knot there's no untying/ " 
 
 " Hush !" said Amy, " I hear a ring at the 
 gate ! dogs ! steps ! It must be Mr. Claverhouse."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 129 
 
 Amy was right; the flash and the tear 
 still twinkled in Cecile's eye, and her cheek 
 was still flushed with pride and anger, when 
 the door was thrown open, and Mr. Claverhouse 
 was announced. 
 
 Mr. Claverhouse was strikingly handsome, 
 tall, slight, and very graceful easy, and rather 
 enjoue in his manner. His age it was difficult 
 to guess, for the expression was rather too old to 
 tally with the thick clustering jet black hair and 
 dazzling teeth ; his short upper lip was adorned 
 by a silky black moustachio, his hair, eyebrows, 
 and whiskers were jet black. He was dressed 
 as French dandies dress, "pour la chasse au 
 fusil," and as we can see them represented in 
 any book of Modes de Paris in which Parisian 
 exquisites are depicted. But he was straight 
 from Paris, and the sisters soon discovered, that 
 though of English parentage, he had been brought 
 up on the Continent. He had rather a military 
 air ; and little as Amy and Cecile were accus- 
 tomed to strangers (gentlemen especially), he 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 soon made them feel perfectly at their ease, by 
 being quite at home himself. 
 
 This was the first time that any gentleman, 
 except Dudley Harcourt, had ever breakfasted 
 with them at that table. When Amy saw Mr. 
 Claverhouse about to take the very seat by Cecile 
 which Dudley always occupied, she proposed he 
 should sit at the other side. Amy had a sister's 
 love and a disciple's reverence for Dudley, and 
 she could not bear to see another in his place ; 
 but Cecile insisted. Mr. Claverhouse then took 
 his seat by Cecile's side, and while she exerted 
 herself to amuse him, and was, alas ! pleased at 
 his glances of admiration, Amy felt as if obliged 
 to take a part in what she felt to be wrong, 
 while an ominous dread of some approaching 
 evil blanched her cheek, chilled her manner, and 
 silenced her tongue. 
 
 The conversation between Cecile and the guest 
 was lively and well- sustained. He talked of 
 Paris, French society, the English abroad, his 
 dear old friend Rockalpine and the few dull days
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 131 
 
 he had spent at his Lordship's shooting box near 
 Oldborough. He made the girls laugh by his 
 clever caricatures of the Stubbs family, the 
 vulgar Jemima, the " Regent Street Gent," 
 Smiley Stubbs, the rival medical men and their 
 ugly daughters, old Hearty and his Dame, and 
 " Frost" of the Family Hotel, whom he described 
 as " the man that could never get warm." He 
 then touched upon the Coxes : declared Sir 
 Thomas's father (not his grandfather) had made 
 all the money they were now enjoying, on Fish 
 Street Hill ; called Eveline a pretty, unformed 
 little plebeian, and made them laugh at the absur- 
 dities of Thomas Coxe, the eldest son, when he 
 had spent a month in Paris. 
 
 The ball, was of course, one of the topics dis- 
 cussed. Cecile hoped he would attend it, begged 
 he would attend it ; and he replied, if she would 
 dance the first two dances with him, and as many 
 after as she could spare, he would try to be there, 
 nay, he would promise to be there, although he 
 
 had to rush to Paris and back in the interval. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " The ball," said Cecile, " takes place this day 
 fortnight." 
 
 " Capital !" replied he. " I shall have a quiet 
 week's shooting here, and then run over to Paris, 
 and be back the very day of the ball." 
 
 " Oh, I do not think you will take all that 
 trouble for the Oldborough ball." 
 
 " No, certainly ; but for the Oldborough belle 
 I shall think it no trouble at all !" 
 
 Oh ! how this silly, weak, coquettish Cecile De 
 Vere, who thought herself so proud in resenting 
 Dudley's behaviour, and was so mean in trifling 
 and flirting thus with a total stranger, wished 
 that she had some chef-d'oeuvre of a Parisian 
 ball dress, in which to show him that the " Old- 
 borough Belle" was worth more trouble than 
 Dudley Harcourt seemed inclined to take. 
 
 In the course of the morning it came out, that 
 though the sportsman's head-quarters were 
 Rockalpine Lodge, placed at his service by the 
 Earl, he, finding all the game had taken refuge 
 at De Vtre, had just hired a lodging at a pretty
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 133 
 
 cottage where two rooms were to be let, and 
 where a very smiling blue-eyed blonde was to 
 wait upon him. The cottage turned out to 
 be that of Mabel's father, the pretty girl, Mabel 
 herself. 
 
 " I shall be quite au courant" he said, " in 
 the history of every one in Oldborough and De 
 Vere ; for I find the pretty Mabel's little hands 
 and feet are not as nimble as her tongue." 
 
 The deepest crimson suffused the face and 
 neck of Cecile ; of course Mabel would take care 
 to talk of the intimacy at the Court of the young 
 Vicar ; of course so shrewd and cleve ra girl had 
 discovered the engagement between her and 
 Dudley Harcourt, although, at Mrs. De Vere's 
 request, it was kept a secret from the world in 
 general. Cecile rose and went to the window 
 to conceal her confusion, and at this moment 
 Mrs. De Vere entered the room. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was generally very cold, distant, 
 and inaccessible to the very few visitors who 
 ventured to call at Court De Vere. To the
 
 1 34 A LOVER S QUARREL. 
 
 county people she resolved to show, that though 
 she could not return their visits in modish attire 
 and stylish equipage, she considered her notice 
 an honour, and their presence an intrusion ; and 
 as to the townspeople, the rival lawyers, and the 
 rival doctors, one visit to Court De Vere, was 
 quite enough for the Stubbses, the Smiths, and 
 Browns, for they found when it came to the point, 
 that neither their brazen faces nor golden chains 
 and bracelets availed them aught in the haughty 
 presence of the granddaughter of an Earl, and 
 amid the faded glories of Court De Vere, where 
 the very old starched housemaid who admitted 
 them, had about her something more aristocratic 
 than their gaudy selves, and shut the Hall door 
 haughtily in the rosy faces of their coachman and 
 footman. 
 
 Even Mrs. Ormsby, charming and elegant as 
 she was, and much as she wished to be intimate 
 with the fair daughters of one who had been a 
 friend of her mother's, received no encourage- 
 ment at Court De Vere. Mrs. De Vere de-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 135 
 
 spised any woman of patrician birth who could 
 marry a solicitor the virtues, the merits, the 
 talents, and the devoted attachment on both 
 sides, weighed .as nothing in her balance. Al- 
 meria Ormsby was the daughter of her former 
 intimate, Lady Almeria she, too, was the grand- 
 daughter of an Earl, and she had married a low- 
 born county town attorney. Her father's agent ! 
 her grandfather's man of business ! a creature 
 who still actually practised in the very town to 
 which the Earl of Oldborough gave his name ! 
 A man who ran up bills, charged six-and-eight- 
 pences, wrote lawyer's letters, put in dis- 
 tresses, and was in fact an attorney for all 
 she knew, a pettifogger ! ... Of all the people 
 who called at Court De Vere, none were 
 more haughtily repulsed than the Ormsbys ; 
 she dreaded Mrs. Ormsby's example, especially 
 for Amy, and she never even returned her 
 visit. 
 
 All that was soft and sweet in Mrs. Ormsby, 
 seemed to her mean and truckling ; and all that
 
 136 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 in Mr. Ormsby was dignified, reserved, and 
 refined, she considered impertinent, artful, and 
 aspiring. 
 
 Cecile and Amy were surprise^, then, at the 
 graceful cordiality and fascinating empressement 
 with which Mrs. De Vere welcomed Mr. Claver- 
 house Courtney Claverhouse was his name- 
 In her anxious and minute enquiries after her 
 uncle his health, looks, habits, occupations and 
 feelings, they saw, for the first time, how much 
 the recollection of her early days at Rockalpine 
 Castle in Wales, and Rockalpine House in 
 Berkeley Square, was treasured in her heart. 
 How bitterly she had all along felt the poverty 
 and seclusion of her haughty, isolated life how 
 dear was the once indulgent, long unforgiving 
 uncle and how lively an interest she took even 
 in the old Lord Bagshot, still a bachelor, almost 
 living at his club, her rejection of whom, for the 
 ruined De Vere, had shut her out for ever from 
 her uncle's favour, and the society she had so 
 loved and adorned.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 137 
 
 Courtney Claverhouse had a happy knack of 
 answering cordially. He seemed to take as deep 
 an interest as Mrs. De Vere herself in all the 
 subjects they .discussed. To the amazement 
 and consternation of the girls, she invited him 
 to dinner, To dinner ! no one but Dudley 
 Harcourt had ever, since their birth, been in- 
 vited to dine at Court De Vere. 
 
 " I have to thank you, Mr. Claverhouse," she 
 said, with a sweet smile, "for a most liberal 
 present of game. Mr. De Vere is a confirmed 
 invalid, and we have no gamekeeper (her guest 
 knew that as well as she did) : it will be a great 
 treat to him. I hope, before you leave this 
 neighbourhood, to have the pleasure of intro- 
 ducing you to him." 
 
 " Is he a very great sufferer ?" asked Claver- 
 house, with much sympathy. 
 
 " He is a hypochondriac," said Mrs. De Vere, 
 with the slightest possible curl of the lip, and 
 changed the subject. " To-day he is not 
 visible, and you must be content with a little
 
 138 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 quiet family dinner, with the Miss De Veres 
 and myself." 
 
 " I am never so happy," said Courteney, 
 rising, " as when my society is exclusively of the 
 fair sex. I have little sympathy with French- 
 men, and none with Englishmen. The shifting 
 politics of the time have no interest for me, when 
 I see that placemen, not patriots, carry the day ; 
 and the struggle is not who shall serve his 
 country best, but who shall fleece her most not 
 who shall uphold her among the nations, but 
 who shall uphold himself. I might get into 
 parliament at once, but there is in my case a 
 great, an insurmountable impediment." 
 
 " And what is that ?" asked Mrs. De Vere, 
 with interest. 
 
 " I have a conscience Ah ! you may smile, 
 but it is the greatest drawback a man can have 
 it is worse than a hump. I was in the army, 
 conscience made that profession odious to me. 
 Reared by a delicate, virtuous, high-souled 
 mother," and a tear stood in his fine eyes,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. '139 
 
 "ribaldry and blasphemy wounded my ears 
 sensual pleasures and school-boy frolics had no 
 charms. I saw no prospect of war, and the life 
 of an officer in country quarters was intolerable 
 to me. I left, the army and tried diplomacy I 
 liked it no better : as an attache to the embassy. 
 I was shut up with lads more silly and more sen- 
 sual than my brother officers of the Dragoons. 
 I left the embassy, and am now an idle man. 
 Literature and les beaux arts are my delight, 
 and I find a great deal more taste, sentiment, 
 and sympathy among women than men. I will 
 now, with your permission, release you from my 
 prosy egotism till dinner time. I know that 
 ladies hate a man who [does not know when to 
 go, and like to have their mornings to them- 
 selves my own dear mother does. I shall go 
 and walk through the woods of De Vere, with 
 my gun and dogs, and then I shall sit quietly 
 down with my portfolio, and I hope, bring you 
 in a tolerable water-colour sketch of your dear 
 old church. Au revoir, mesdames !"
 
 140 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " What a thoroughbred, delightful man," 
 said Mrs. De Vere ; " how gentle, how graceful, 
 how accomplished. It seemed like old times to 
 me to talk once more with such a man ; and 
 now, my dears, you must help me to prepare 
 for him. I could not avoid asking him to din- 
 ner, and yet it is quite an undertaking for us to 
 have even an old friend, like Dudley, to our 
 family dinner. I suppose we must dine in the 
 hall, and adjourn to the drawing-room." 
 
 "It would be best," said Cecile, "only the 
 drawing-room has not been opened, used, or 
 dusted for months." 
 
 " And your Papa is in one of his worst and 
 most exacting moods. He has taken it into his 
 head that his strength is diminished by his hair, 
 whiskers, eye- brows, and moustache, and I left 
 him resolved to shave them all off." 
 
 " Oh, but I hope he won't do that," said 
 Cecile, " he will make himself look such a 
 fright, and it seems such a very insane thing to 
 . do."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 141 
 
 " Ah, you may well say that, Cecile ; and he 
 became so excited when I opposed it, that any 
 stranger would have thought him insane. I do 
 hope he will not present himself to Mr. Claver- 
 house to-day. It is a sad thing for a family 
 when any suspicion of such an interdict as in- 
 sanity gets into the whispers of its enemies ; and 
 although I am no matchmaker, and think, of all 
 characters, a manoeuvring mother is the most 
 contemptible, yet, as my proud Cecile has made 
 her humble choice, of Love in a Cottage, and my 
 Amy is fancy free, I should not be sorry to see 
 her Mrs. Claverhouse. I think Lord Rockal- 
 pine must have had some such scheme in his 
 head, when he sent such a very captivating 
 and desirable man to the secluded beauties 
 of Court De Vere. There never was such 
 an inveterate matchmaker as my dear, dear 
 uncle." 
 
 " I don't particularly admire Mr. Claverhouse, 
 Mamma !" said Amy. 
 
 " So much the better ; he is the more likely
 
 142 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 to admire you what do you think of him, 
 
 Cecile ?" 
 
 " I think such a man, so brilliant, so intellec- 
 tual, so full of sentiment and sympathy, would 
 be quite thrown away on our Amy, whose taste 
 is all for the most humdrum worthy men, and 
 the most domestic duties of life," said Cecile. 
 " But I think I had better go to the farm, 
 Mamma, and ask Mrs. Giles to come up and 
 superintend the dinner ; she will gladly do so, 
 for the sake of ' the Auld Lang Syne,' and the 
 credit of Court De Vere." 
 
 " Mamma," said Amy, " if I may offer an 
 opinion, it is that we had better dine in this 
 room, and take tea in your own little boudoir. 
 If the hall and the great drawing-room have to 
 be cleaned, we never can be ready ; and it will 
 be so chill, so dark, so dreary, and so wretched 
 a neat little dinner, nicely cooked and punc- 
 tually served in this room, would be surely much 
 better than a failure in the great hall, after 
 Mr. Claverhouse has been starving for two or
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 143 
 
 three hours. He cannot fancy we are rich of 
 course Lord Rockalpine has told him all. I see 
 by his smile, and the merry twinkle in his eye, 
 he has a keen sense of the ridiculous there is 
 nothing ridiculous in poverty, but in pretension 
 there certainly is." 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was not convinced by Amy's 
 sensible arguments, but when she entered the 
 drawing-rooms, and saw the chandeliers hung 
 with cobwebs, and crusted with dust the sofas 
 and chairs moth-eaten and even mouse-bitten 
 several window panes broken, and a cold, damp, 
 dusty, fusty smell pervading everything, she 
 began to think Amy right ; and when, at the 
 first attempt to kindle a fire, the room was filled 
 with smoke, she gave it up in despair and wisely 
 agreed to all Amy had suggested. 
 
 While Cecile went to the farm, Mrs. De Vere, 
 
 quite ignorant of the quarrel between the 
 
 affianced lovers, desired Amy to write a note to 
 
 Dudley Harcourt, and invite him to dinner. 
 
 Amy was rejoiced at what seemed to her so 

 
 144 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 likely to lead to a reconciliation and hastened to 
 comply before Cecile could return and raise any 
 objection. 
 
 She wrote a pretty, affectionate little note, and 
 sent it at once. Her messenger (a village boy) 
 soon returned with a reply. 
 
 She tore it open and read : 
 
 "My DEAR Miss AMY, 
 
 " Many thanks to your kind Mamma, 
 but I am engaged to dine at the Coxes. 
 " I am your sincere friend, 
 
 " DUDLEY. HARCOURT." 
 
 " What a pity !" said Mrs. De Vere. "I am 
 sure they would have suited each other exactly, 
 would Dudley Harcourt and Mr. Claverhouse. 
 I cannot think how Dudley can bear those vulgar 
 parvenues the Coxes, so thoroughly refined and 
 well-bred as he is. However, they are so ready 
 to help in all Dudley's charities, so liberal in 
 their subscriptions to the schools, and so ready 
 with their soup, coals, and blankets at Christ-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 145 
 
 mas, that I suppose he cannot well refuse to dine 
 there occasionally ; but it must be a great bore 
 to him." 
 
 Amy thought no place could be unpleasant 
 where sweet Eveline Coxe smiled and talked and 
 sang ; but she did not say so. She knew Mrs. 
 De Vere was always irritated to find her affection 
 for a Coxe still unchanged and unchangeable, 
 and she did not wish to see her mother vexed, 
 particularly when, for the first time, a guest with 
 power to interest and amuse her, had appeared 
 at Court De Vere. Mabel Moss had been at 
 one time in the service of the De Veres as 
 attendant on the young ladies in their nursery 
 and school-room days ; but as every year 
 diminished their means, they had found it 
 necessary to dispense with all servants but a cook, 
 a housemaid, and an out-door lad. 
 
 Mabel, on quitting the De Veres, did not seek 
 another situation ; she was very clever at her 
 needle, and both went out to the people of the 
 neighbourhood to make dresses, and took in all 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 sorts of mantua making and millinery (for her 
 humbler customers) at the pretty little cottage 
 where her father lived, and where Courtney 
 Claverhouse had taken the two neat, cheerful 
 rooms, the letting of which was a great help to 
 their small income. Mabel was a very pretty, 
 handy, amiable young woman, about six-and- 
 twenty. She was only twelve when the De Vere 
 family first noticed her and allowed her to become 
 half playmate, half servant to Cecile and Amy, 
 then of the ages of four and six. Naturally grace- 
 ful, delicate, and quick, her manners in the severe 
 school of Mrs. De Vere became almost polished, 
 and she picked up a good deal of knowledge of 
 different kinds in her close attendance in the 
 school-room in the time of Miss Crabbe. Mabel 
 was a very affectionate, kind-hearted girl; 
 but she had her faults, a little sly, a little vain, 
 and a very amusing, but a very great chatter- 
 box. She would have done a world of mischief 
 in most places ; and even as it was, working as 
 she did at the De Veres, the Coxes, the Orms-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 147 
 
 bys and even at Lady Rivers's, and the Countess 
 of Oldborough's, she had quite unintentionally 
 widened some breaches, fomented some discords, 
 perpetuated some feuds, and circulated some 
 tittle tattle. 
 
 She was devoted to the Misses De Vere. All 
 other work was cast aside directly she was 
 wanted at Court De Vere. 
 
 In her heart she looked down on the Coxes, 
 and though she liked sweet gentle Eveline Coxe, 
 she had, during her long sojourn at Court De 
 Vere, fully imbibed the idea that they were 
 nobodies. 
 
 Of Mrs. Ormsby too, she always thought and 
 spoke much as Mrs. De Vere did. 
 
 Mabel knew perfectly well that Dudley Har- 
 court and Cecile De Vere were engaged, although 
 nothing had ever been said to her on the subject ; 
 but she did not quite approve, for she took her 
 tone from Mrs. De Vere. She acknowledged that 
 he was a perfect gentleman by birth and educa- 
 tion, very handsome, very good ; but she thought 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 such a beauty as Miss Cecile might look a great 
 deal higher, and that it would be a thousand 
 pities she should pass from Court De Vere to 
 De Vere Vicarge, without one peep at the gay 
 world ; never having been presented ; never worn 
 feathers, diamonds, or a train ; never shown her- 
 self at that opera, at those balls, or in that park, 
 of which she had read in the novels Miss Crabbe 
 used to hire at Oldborough, and read in the long 
 dull hours when her pupils were gone early to bed, 
 and which Mabel had often sate up all night, 
 after Miss Crabbe had retired, to devour by 
 stealth. Mabel had always settled in her own mind 
 that Miss Cecile would make a grand match, 
 and go to London, and (it was an old nursery 
 promise) take Mabel with her, as "her own 
 woman," as the elder novelists say. Mabel longed 
 to see " London and high life," and it was thus 
 she hoped and expected to do so. 
 
 It was therefore a real blow to her when she 
 found out, long before Cecile did so, why she 
 
 
 
 never approached the pretty parsonage, (when in
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 149 
 
 the old Vicar's time, she was quite at home there) 
 and yet would watch its quaint old roof, visible 
 from her bedroom, when it was bathed in the 
 red sunset, or silvered by the moonbeams, or 
 grey in the dawn, or looming darkly in the early 
 closing night of winter. Mabel marked, and 
 with many misgivings, the deep and earnest 
 attention, the changing colour, the tearful eye, 
 the zealous attendance, the punctuality, the 
 eagerness to promote the young Vicar's views, 
 and assist heart and hand in all his pious schemes 
 of parish reform. She soon found out there 
 was an attachment, and as she was working at 
 Court De Vere when Dudley proposed and was 
 accepted, she soon knew all, as well as if she 
 had been told all, (which in her heart she 
 thought she ought to have been). 
 
 Mabel felt convinced that unless Miss Cecile 
 and Mr. Harcourt were affianced, Mrs. De Vere 
 would not permit them to sit tete-a-tete in the 
 library, or walk by the hour up and down the 
 avenue and the terrace. Still less would Cecile
 
 150 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 have dared receive, often more than once every 
 day, a note from Dudley, and devote hours to 
 writing long answers, crossed and recrossed, 
 which Mabel felt sure none but a lover would 
 have patience to read or write. 
 
 " There's nothing exactly objectionable in the 
 match," thought Mabel, " but to my mind it 
 would suit Miss Eveline Coxe much better than 
 our beautiful Miss Cecile ! A woman should 
 always raise herself by marriage. It would be a 
 rise for Miss Eveline. It's quite the reverse for 
 Miss Cecile. A life of church-going, chaunting, 
 schooling, visiting the sick and poor ! broth- 
 making, working ! I dare say it's very Chris- 
 tian and right ; but if I were Miss Cecile, I'd see 
 life before I settled 'down among old red cloaks 
 and black bonnets for ever ; and I don't think 
 she'll have her own way much, either. She 
 hasn't now he's her lover, and if she hasn't now, 
 it isn't likely she will, when he's her lord and 
 master. He ? d have suited Miss Amy better ; 
 for though love may change Miss Cecile into a
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 151 
 
 lamb now, there's a good share of the lioness 
 about her ; and when she shows it, I don't think 
 he'll like it, and they won't be happy. She is 
 not cut-out to be a country parson's wife, and I 
 wish with all my heart it had never been, or could 
 be broken off! but there's no hope of that, for 
 he loves her with all his heart, and she doats on 
 him, more than it's ever wise or safe for any 
 woman to doat on a man. It makes a slave of 
 her, and slaves make tyrants." 
 
 Mabel came to the same conclusion as Cecile 
 had done ; but they were both disciples of Mrs. 
 De Vere, and Mabel had as much pride and as 
 many high-flown notions as any De Vere or 
 Lorraine of them all. It was in some respects a 
 proper pride, and a great safeguard to a pretty 
 girl, particularly one not at all disposed to un- 
 derrate her personal advantages, or to disdain the 
 homage they elicited. 
 
 It chanced that Mabel was mantua- making 
 at Court De Vere, helping the young ladies to 
 prepare for the ball, on the evening of the first
 
 152 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 quarrel between the lovers. She had been sent 
 by Mrs. De Vere into the sitting-room, where 
 they were, to fetch a work-box she had left there. 
 Mabel saw at a glance, heard at a word, the state 
 of affairs, and hope revived in her heart ! She 
 felt indignant that any man should dare to take 
 Miss Cecile to task, and he only a lover. " If he 
 was so " audacious" as a lover, what would he 
 not be as a husband ? and Miss Cecile looking 
 so beautiful and so proud he ought to have 
 been ashamed of himself !" 
 
 Mabel was just going home when Dudley took 
 his leave. She was in the parterre beneath the 
 terrace, when Amy went out after him. Mabel 
 knew Cecile had not been to the early service 
 for the two next days. She saw she was restless, 
 feverish, anxious, perhaps miserable, but very 
 angry. She knew Mr. Harcourt had made no 
 concession, and she did not much think he would 
 make any. She had a woman's instinct in 
 reading character, and she saw firmness was the 
 substratum of his. She felt certain that womanly
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 153 
 
 pride, (besides the pride of the De Veres and 
 Lorraines,) would keep up Cecile's anger, unless 
 her lover made some advances or some apology. 
 
 " And, then, while matters were in this state, 
 comes the finest gentleman that had ever crossed 
 the threshold of Court De Vere in her (Mabel's) 
 days sent, too, by 'Madam's' own uncle, Lord 
 Rockalpine sent, of course, to make up to one 
 of the young ladies. Such a polite, pleasant, 
 sweet-spoken gentleman !: such black eyes and 
 white teeth, such curly hair and such a mous- 
 tache! his clothes not like anyone else's at 
 Oldborough or De Vere, so stylish ! Then his 
 dressing-case, it was quite a sight ! and when 
 he was dressed for dinner, Parson Harcourt, with 
 his black suit and white tie (though he was a 
 fine man, for a fair man, and had a look of a 
 statue, and a smile like the St. John at Lord 
 Rivers's), wouldn't look much by that pink of 
 politeness and love of a gentleman !" 
 
 Mabel could not believe that it would be Miss 
 Amy he would fall in love with. He seemed
 
 154 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 made for Miss Cecile ; and, coming just at this 
 particular time, Mabel hoped it was not wrong 
 to wish he might cut out Mr. Harcourt, who 
 couldn't be as miserable as he ought to be, when 
 he had offended Miss Cecile, or he wouldn't 
 go gallivanting about with Miss Eveline Coxe ! 
 dining there too ! which Mabel thought a 
 piece of great good luck, as otherwise he might 
 have been at Court De Vere, and have prevented 
 Mr. Claverhouse's coming forward, by telling 
 him he was engaged to Miss Cecile ; and now 
 Mabel hoped she would be so offended with him 
 for being able to go out to dinner, when she was 
 not friends with him, that she would break with 
 him, and try to make a conquest of the beautiful 
 gentleman sent from Paris by Lord Rockalpine. 
 Courtney Claverhouse had heard a good deal 
 about the De Veres, their pride, their poverty, 
 the ball, and the shifts they were put to, to 
 appear at it. While at Oldborough, wherever 
 he was, he made himself pleasant and talked 
 sociably. A slight sprain had made him consult
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 155 
 
 Mr. Smith, (one of the Oldborough surgeons,) 
 who invited him to dinner. 
 
 At this dinner he met the Stubbses, and heard 
 all the spiteful on dits about the De Veres, and 
 their toilette, and equipage for the Oldborough 
 ball. Much disgusted at heart, he still drew out 
 the malicious Jemima Stubbs and the envious 
 Theodosia Smith ; and before he quitted the 
 odious set, he knew all about the dye, the mix- 
 ture to clean gloves, the old coach, the farmer's 
 horses, and the probability of the proud old gal 
 catching a spill, as Smily Stubbs called it. 
 
 Courtney Claverhouse made a most favour- 
 able impression on the Oldborough vulgarities. 
 Miss Theodosia Smith fell miserably in love with 
 him ; and Miss Jemima Stubbs, recalling his 
 polite attentions, black eyes, and white teeth, 
 hoped he was not " gay," and sighed to meet 
 him again. 
 
 They all felt certain he was charmed with 
 them, with Oldborough, with the round game 
 he had played at commerce with three inter-
 
 156 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 minable lives, beginning at seven P.M., and ending 
 at two in the morning by a boisterous game of 
 fright, and at which united bores he had lost fifteen 
 shillings consoled by Mrs. Smith's assuring 
 him that " gentlemen who were unlucky at cards 
 were sure to be fortunate in marriage." 
 
 And all the wearisome honours of that pro- 
 tracted martyrdom had produced but one 
 satisfactory result in his opinion, namely, the 
 knowledge it had given him of many minute 
 circumstances connected with the very people 
 to see whom he had visited Oldborough, and to 
 hear about whom he had doomed himself to sit 
 from seven P.M. to two A.M., playing commerce 
 in the eompany of the professional vulgarities of 
 a country town. 
 
 Cecile soon discovered, on her return from 
 the farm, that Dudley had been invited. Her 
 mother spoke of it naturally, and regretted his
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 157 
 
 absence, saying, " I regret more than ever now, 
 that Dudley Harcourt ever came to De Vere 
 at all ; but as he is here, and is almost one of 
 ourselves, I wish he could have met my uncle's 
 friend." 
 
 Cecile said nothing ; but in cross-examining 
 Amy, she soon found out that Mr. Harcourt was 
 engaged to dine at " the Coxes." To be able 
 to dine out at all, when at war with her, showed, 
 in her opinion, great indifference and contempt. 
 To dine there, after having been seen inviting 
 Eveline and Ferdinand Coxe into his garden, 
 looked very much as if he could easily transfer 
 his affections to that meek, Madonna-faced 
 Eveline, who looked up to him as a saint. 
 
 A burning jealousy now seemed to parch 
 Cecile's heart. It was a wretched, tearful, mi- 
 serable feeling ! It contracted her throat, as a 
 spasm might have done. It made her feel 
 reckless, defiant, miserable, almost mad, and 
 yet outwardly gay, sportive, joyous ! Her eyes 
 sparkled, her cheeks glowe*d, her bosom throbbed.
 
 158 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 She looked unusually brilliant in beauty and ani- 
 mated in manner, when Mr. Courtney Claver- 
 house was shown into the little boudoir which 
 did duty for the drawing-room on this occasion. 
 
 While expecting the guest, Cecile had taken 
 up her guitar, that guitar which she had played 
 with such well-assumed nonchalance the last 
 time she had seen her lover, and while he was 
 gazing at her with pale cheeks and tearful eyes. 
 
 As Courtney Claverhouse entered the hall, 
 he heard Cecile playing a " Spanish Retreat" 
 with great taste and skill. Like most men 
 educated abroad, Courtenay was accomplished. 
 He sketched with taste, sung charmingly, played 
 the guitar to perfection, and danced admirably. 
 
 It was some time before dinner was ready 
 punctuality in such cases requires many servants, 
 and the habit of giving dinners. Mrs. De Vere 
 and Amy were busy " lending a helping hand," 
 and Cecile had to amuse Mr. Claverhouse. The 
 time, long as it really was, seemed very short, 
 for Mr. Claverhouse undertook to teach Cecile
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 159 
 
 some very pretty waltzes and barcarolles, and 
 from that they got to a song, and from a song 
 to a duet. 
 
 Their voices harmonised admirably ; as the 
 sounds floated down the stairs, and met the 
 mother's ear, she sighed again to think that 
 Cecile was engaged, and sent Amy to join the 
 singers, and take a part in a glee. 
 
 Claverhouse was not at all glad to have the 
 charming tete-a-tete broken in upon. He drew 
 suddenly farther from Cecile's chair, and a slight 
 contraction of the brow and compression of the 
 lip, might have suggested that he had a temper 
 that ill-brooked anything, not in accordance with 
 his wishes. Cecile did not notice the change she 
 was not in love with him ; had it been her Dudley, 
 she would have perceived it in a moment. She 
 went on gaily playing to Amy the airs she had 
 just learnt from Courtney, and was still thus 
 engaged when Mrs. De Vere entered the room. 
 
 The dinner went off very well ; owing toAmy's 
 good advice, they had not attempted too much.
 
 160 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 The cloth was laid in the library. The small, 
 but elegant repast did great credit to Mrs. Jiles 
 and " cook." The wine was some of De Vere's 
 best, and better could not be. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was so lively, hospitable, witty 
 and captivating, that her daughters, who had 
 always seen her gloomy and silent in company, 
 no longer wondered at the conquests she had 
 made in her youth, and for the first time fully 
 understood Lord Bagshot's infatuation, and poor 
 Papa's devotion during the long ago. 
 
 Mr. Claverhouse kindly satisfied Mrs. De 
 Vere's anxiety about every particular connected 
 with her uncle and his family. He told her 
 that Lord Rockalpine's brother had married, had 
 lost his wife (by whom he had two children, 
 both boys), and that, as he had an unfortunate 
 attachment to a young and pretty person, who 
 had been a governess, and about whom there 
 had been some scandal, it was much to be 
 feared he would never marry again, but that he 
 thought it very likely some of the many attacks
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 161 
 
 made on the heart, or rather the coronet, of his 
 old friend, Lord Rockalpine, might take effect, 
 and that the older he grew, the feebler his re- 
 sistance to woman and to wedlock became. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere never saw a newspaper, and 
 her own peerage was of ancient date. She did 
 not know that her uncle, the Hon. Loftus Lor- 
 raine, was married, and had children ! still less 
 had it even struck her, that Lord Rockalpine, so 
 confirmed a bachelor, would ever think of ma- 
 trimony. 
 
 After she had gilded the dreary present by a 
 fancy dream of a not impossible future not 
 impossible then, but highly improbable now 
 she had thought that if both her uncles died, 
 sine prole (her father had long been dead), she 
 was herself the next heir to title and estates ; 
 but with two sons of her uncle Loftus, that 
 uncle himself and hale and " like to live" (not 
 the invalid she had known him), and the Earl 
 himself become a marrying man, it was madness 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 162 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 to dream of the succession for herself or her 
 children. 
 
 Often and often had she remembered, with 
 pride and joy, that the title and estates descended 
 to heirs general, and that, were both her uncles to 
 die without issue, she herself would, in her own 
 right, be. Countess of Rockalpine. 
 
 Every word Mr. Claverhouse said, made this 
 vision seem more baseless, and this hope more 
 ridiculous. 
 
 She began to rejoice that Cecile was engaged 
 to a good man of ancient family, who could 
 maintain her in modest comfort, and fervently 
 did she wish that the fascinating stranger would 
 address himself more frequently to Amy, and 
 not to appear to have eyes and ears only for the 
 brilliant, but affianced Cecile. 
 
 To the surprise of the whole party before 
 Courtney Claverhouse left Court De Vere, a 
 slow and stately step was heard descending the 
 stairs ; Mrs. De Vere's cheeks flushed, the girls 
 started up, exclaiming " Papa !" the door was
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 163 
 
 thrown open very slowly, and Mr. De Vere stood 
 before them, a light in his hand, and one in his 
 eye, too, of a lurid and unsteady nature, which 
 his wife and daughters shuddered to behold. 
 
 Courtney Claverhouse was much too well 
 bred to smile, or betray a symptom of mirth or 
 surprise, although the figure before him would 
 have unlocked the risible muscles of most men. 
 But among the on dits circulated at Oldborough 
 concerning " the ruined family," was one that 
 Mr. De Vere was insane ; now, no allusion to 
 this had been made by Courtney, or to him, 
 during his brief stay with the De Vere family, 
 but it occurred to his mind, directly he saw Mrs. 
 De Vere change colour, and heard the girls, 
 with such dismay, exclaim, " Papa ! " Still 
 more forcibly did it recur to him, when the door 
 was flung open, and Reginald De Vere stood 
 before him. 
 
 But Mr. De Vere was not insane, he was only 
 what is vulgarly called, " cracked," that he was 
 on most points, but on the subject of family 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 pride he was a confirmed monomaniac. And 
 no wonder. He had lived for twenty years at 
 Court De Vere, in total seclusion, *with nothing 
 to do, nothing to occupy his head or hands, no 
 amusement or interest in the Present, no hope 
 or prospect for the Future, nothing, in short, 
 but " the Past" to dwell upon and to glory in. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was as full of family pride as 
 himself, but she was a wife a mother. She 
 had a woman's active temperament, maternal 
 instincts, and industrious habits a wife and 
 mother must live in the Present. No one goes 
 mad who lives in the actual, matter-of-fact, com- 
 mon-place Present, while those who live only 
 in the Future or the Past, generally do become 
 more or less insane. 
 
 By dwelling in that fairy land, the Future, 
 they allow a pleasing, dreamy, fanciful insanity 
 to grow upon their minds ; while, by brooding 
 for ever over that great churchyard, the Past, 
 " melancholy" soon " marks them for her own." 
 
 There is always something of a ghastly ludi-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 165 
 
 crosity, perhaps, but ludicrous still, in madness, 
 even in what is called melancholy madness, and 
 where pride has disturbed that exact mental 
 balance on which sanity depends, many ridicu- 
 lous contrasts are the result. 
 
 Mr. De Vere, long before his eccentricities 
 became so marked as to give rise to the report 
 of his insanity, had contracted that habit, com- 
 mon to the idle and recluses, of occupying and 
 tormenting himself about his own health he 
 was, as Mrs. De Vere had said, a hypochon- 
 driac. 
 
 As he had no money to throw away on 
 doctors, and was much too proud to receive 
 advice gratis, he took to doctoring himself. He 
 tried one system after another (all old and obso- 
 lete), for no new book of medicine found its way 
 to Court De Vere the most modern work in 
 his medical library was " Buchan," whom he 
 looked upon as a very recent authority. 
 
 Mr. De Vere was never quiet, unless he was 
 trying some new system experimentalising in
 
 166 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 some way and by dint of these systems and 
 experiments, he had ruined an Herculean con- 
 stitution, and brought on a premature old age. 
 Genealogy and medicine were his only studies 
 he weakened his body by drugs, depletion, 
 blisters, seatons in short, by whatever remedies 
 he found recommended for diseases which he 
 fancied he suffered from ; and he impaired his 
 mind and inflamed his brain, by dwelling on no- 
 thing but the by-gone glories of the De Veres. 
 
 He was surrounded by histories of this once 
 puissant family, by monuments, records, and relics 
 of their importance; their armorial bearings, their 
 genealogical tree, their pedigree, their old family 
 portraits, armour and jewels, plate and china, 
 were ever before his eyes. His mind, never very 
 expansive or noble, contracted itself so as scarcely 
 to admit of more than two objects of interest, 
 family pride and bodily health. 
 
 He had long been engaged (for even he found 
 it impossible to exist without any occupation 
 at all) in a voluminous, inflated, pompous,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 167 
 
 weak, and most ill-written tautological " History 
 of the De Vere Family." He had been engaged 
 upon it for many years, but it was not advanced 
 even midway, for he made many rough copies, 
 and his fair and final one was written on vellum, 
 and in a hand closely resembling print. For the 
 smallest blot, error, mistake or malformation of 
 a letter, a whole page was cancelled ; and as the 
 History done, his occupation would be gone, 
 Mrs. and the Misses De Veres, who dreaded 
 having him on their hands, hoped the subject 
 never would be exhausted. 
 
 It was a curious thing, that, although Mrs. De 
 Vere, granddaughter of one of our noblest and 
 most ancient Peers, was indisputably of a more 
 illustrious family than his own, he took no pride 
 in her ancestry, and attached no importance to 
 deeds and achievements that had become part of 
 our national history. There was no room in 
 his narrow, ill-arranged mind for more than his 
 own family pride, and his own bodily symptoms, 
 his ruined family, and his ruined constitution !
 
 168 A LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 And yet the De Veres had always been a knightly, 
 but never a noble house ! Certainly they had 
 been of great local importance at one time, and 
 in villages ten miles round, there were still little 
 cosy country inns, called the " De Vere Arms," 
 and relics of their importance and wealth far 
 and wide. But they had never been more than 
 a great county family ; and yet Reginald De 
 Vere, the last of the race, had crazed his weak 
 mind by dwelling and brooding on their bygone 
 grandeur, and writing their history. 
 
 He was subject, poor fellow, to fits of intense 
 gloom, deep dejection, violent, furious passion, 
 and childlike fretfulness about trifles. His habit 
 of quacking himself had so weakened his nerves, 
 that he, who so gloried in the ancient valour of 
 the De Veres, was an arrant coward himself. 
 But in a general way he was placid, somewhat 
 pompous, and very condescending. 
 
 As his youth had been spent at Court as a 
 page of honour, and as he went thence into the 
 Guards, and he had always moved in the best
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 169 
 
 society, he was polite and courteous. And as 
 Courtney Claverhouse rose to return his bow, 
 and accept his proffered hand, he thought him a 
 perfect specimen of the gentleman of La vieille 
 Cour. 
 
 This effect was heightened by his being 
 arrayed in a Court dress, sword, bag, solitaire, 
 and all etceteras, and armed with a chapeau bras. 
 The effect of this costume was, of course, to 
 make him appear to Courtney to be stark staring 
 mad ; but it was not by any means so great an 
 evidence of insanity as it appeared to be. 
 
 The fact was, when Mrs. De Vere saw him, 
 after he had shaved off all his hair, whiskers, 
 eyebrows, and moustachios, having found in an 
 old treatise that " the human hayre sucketh up 
 the strengthe of manne's bodie, and should be 
 removed entirelie ;" he sounded her upon the 
 subject of an interview with Mr. Claverhouse ; 
 and she, dreading that a gentleman sent by her 
 uncle, evidently as a suitor to one of her 
 daughters, should perceive symptoms of insanity
 
 170 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 in their father, at the very outset of the acquaint- 
 ance, urged him by no means to show himself 
 to any stranger so disfigured and disguised ! 
 
 Now it is remarkable, in all people at all men- 
 tally afflicted, that few things seem impossible to 
 them. Difficulties that would entirely deter the 
 sane man, seem no obstacles to the insane. 
 
 Mr. De Vere said nothing ; but he at once 
 formed his plan. He was very sly, that is another 
 peculiarity of mental aberration, and Mrs. De 
 Vere, who knew him well, suspecting something 
 from his apparent docility, and remarking an 
 expression in his eye that made her doubt his 
 sincerity, to make security doubly sure, locked 
 the wardrobe containing all his wearable clothes, 
 and pocketed the key. He was in a very old 
 damask wrapper, and velvet nightcap while she 
 was speaking to him, and knowing him to be the 
 slave of punctilio and etiquette, she felt certain 
 he would not appear before a stranger of distinc- 
 tion in such a deshabille. She therefore felt 
 quite safe with regard to him, and he saw that
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 171 
 
 she did so, and she was no sooner gone than he 
 began to manufacture for himself a pair of fero- 
 cious false eyebrows and moustachios, out of an 
 old lynx boa, and to supply the place of the hair 
 he had shaved off by a shaggy scalp of the same. 
 This extraordinary undertaking was very hard to 
 accomplish ; it required a great deal of skill, 
 patience, and time, and also a very strong cement 
 which he had to concoct for the purpose. The 
 result was perfectly satisfactory to himself; but 
 the effect unutterably ludicrous to the beholders. 
 
 He was well aware that Mrs. De Vere had 
 locked up his wardrobe, and he understood why ; 
 but he remembered, with an inward chuckle, 
 several old portmanteaus, full of forgotten Court 
 suits under his bed, and on the top of his ward- 
 robe. 
 
 He quietly selected and aired all he required. 
 When his dinner was brought to him by the old 
 housemaid, this court suit was carefully con- 
 cealed ; but his sham eyebrows, moustachios, and 
 toupe, manufactured out of the old lynx boa,
 
 172 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 him look so strange, wild, and ludicrously fierce, 
 that in order not to excite his irascible temper by 
 laughing aloud, she hastily put down his dinner- 
 tray before him, and darted down stairs, holding 
 her sides, and choking with suppressed cachina- 
 tion as she went. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere augured no evil from Bridget's 
 account of her master's pilatory triumphs. She 
 felt safe in the consciousness of possessing the 
 key of the wardrobe, and thus Mr. De Vere had 
 the field to himself, and contrived the surprise 
 which, though a pleasant one to the guest to 
 whom it afforded many a good laugh when he 
 was alone, was fraught with distress to the wife 
 and daughters of the unfortunate gentleman ! 
 
 He came in then with his shaggy black eye- 
 brows, pensile moustachios, and shaggy toupe, 
 a very old Peerage in his hand, and a chapeau 
 bras under his arm. 
 
 He was extremely courteous and condescend- 
 ing to Courtney Claverhouse, and rather autho- 
 ritative and short with his wife and children.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 173 
 
 " I am but a poor wreck, Mr. Claverhouse," 
 he said, " a perfect martyr to almost every ill 
 that flesh is heir to ; but I do not wish to fail in 
 that hospitality for which the De Veres have 
 always been renowned, and therefore I have made 
 an effort to welcome you in person to Court De 
 Vere. While you are in this neighbourhood, I 
 hope you will make my house your head quarters. 
 With regard to the shooting, which, I hear from 
 Mrs. De Vere, is your chief attraction here, 
 (Claverhouse shot a meaning glance at Cecile, 
 who blushed and looked down), I hope you will 
 consider yourself empowered by me to shoot all 
 over the country for five miles round. I am 
 Lord of the Manor, sir, and have sole right to 
 the shooting. An upstart huckster, sir, from 
 Fish Street Hill, one Coxe, who has built a place 
 on my land, modern and cockney as himself, may 
 give you some trouble, if you happen to come 
 upon what he impudently calls ' his preserves ;' 
 but I advise you, sir, to knock him down, as I 
 should do in such a case him, his son, his
 
 174 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 gamekeeper, or whoever the vulgar cit may send 
 out against you. This done, fling him this card, 
 (here he gave him an old yellow card engraved 
 thirty years before), tell him the master of Court 
 De Vere has given you the right to shoot all 
 over his manor, and refer him to me !" 
 
 " I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir," said 
 Courtney with gentle deference. " I promise 
 myself some capital shooting, armed with this 
 pass (putting the card in his porte monnaie,} and 
 I only wish your health permitted you to join in 
 a sport, of which the enjoyment would be doubled, 
 if shared with you." 
 
 " I wish it did ; but, as Mrs. De Vere will tell 
 you, I seldom leave my room." 
 
 " Had you not better return to it at once ?" 
 said Mrs. De Vere, who was keenly alive to the 
 extraordinary and insane effect of her husband's 
 whole appearance and manner. 
 
 " No, I thank you, my love ! I shall finish the 
 evening in this pleasant company Cecile give 
 us a song !"
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 175 
 
 Cecile hesitated and looked at her mother. 
 
 " Did you hear me, girl ?" almost shrieked Mr. 
 De Vere, his eyes flashing fire under the shaggy 
 lynx eyebrows, one of which had got perched 
 awry over his flashing, angry, blood- shot eye. 
 
 " Yes, Papa !" said Cecile trembling ; " what 
 shall it be ? Italian ?" 
 
 " No, nothing modern or new-fangled. One 
 of Moore's melodies. 'The harp that once 
 through Tara's Halls.' " 
 
 Cecile sang that exquisite melody with plain- 
 tive sweetness. The tears ran down her father's 
 hollow cheeks. 
 
 " Mr. Courtney Claverhouse sings, Papa," 
 said Amy, afraid her time was coming. 
 
 " Do oblige us," said Mrs. De Vere. 
 
 " I should be glad to hear you, sir," said Mr. 
 De Vere, in a patronizing tone. 
 
 " I know nothing but what you will, I fear, 
 consider too modern ; but I will venture on a 
 
 song of which, I think, you will approve the 
 
 i 
 
 sentiment as much as I do."
 
 176 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 He then sung, with great spirit and expression, 
 
 " The fine old English gentleman, 
 All of the olden time." 
 
 Mr. De Vere was enchanted. He joined in 
 the chorus, sharply ordered his wife and daugh- 
 ters to do the same, and vociferously applauded 
 the song and the singer. Courtney then rose 
 to go, but Mr. De Vere insisted on his wife's 
 producing some very choice old liqueurs and a 
 supper tray well covered. To this little im- 
 promptu repast he paid ample homage himself, 
 having been too full of his preparations, when 
 his dinner was brought him, to touch anything. 
 
 He afterwards produced the Peerage, in order 
 to trace out exactly what branch of the Claver- 
 house family his guest belonged to. They 
 puzzled over the complicated genealogy of the 
 family a long time ; and Mr. De Vere was so 
 pleased with his guest's patience, deference, and 
 attention, that he promised, on some future 
 occasion, to show him his " History of the De 
 Vere family," and read him part of it.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 177 
 
 Courtney at length effected his escape, but 
 it was past one in the morning when he reached 
 his lodgings at the Cottage. 
 
 He was no sooner gone than Mr. De Vere, 
 taking up his candle, said, " I shall not easily 
 forgive or forget, Madam, your unworthy ma- 
 noeuvre to prevent my doing the honours of my 
 own house, nor the unwarrantable liberty you 
 have taken with me and my property. You 
 take a vast deal too much upon yourself, Madam, 
 and so do your daughters. My long illness, and 
 consequent seclusion, have given you a power you 
 administer very ill. But I feel better, Madam, 
 to-night than I have done for years, and I hope 
 to be able to come down to breakfast to-morrow, 
 and to resume the reins of government here !" 
 
 So saying, with a slow and stately step he 
 re-ascended the wide, old, oaken staircase and 
 returned to his room. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 178 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CROSSED IN LOVE. 
 
 POOR Mr. De Vere ! his was an idle boast 
 a delusive hope ! The old court suit in which 
 he Had figured before Courtney Claverhouse 
 was very damp, and his frame, rendered very 
 susceptible of cold, by constant doses of calomel 
 and nitre, was easily affected. A violent attack 
 of rheumatic gout was the result of his escapade. 
 
 Long days and nights of nursing were entailed 
 on Mrs. De Vere ; and she had in the end good 
 cause to repent of what had seemed to her at 
 the time so clever a manoeuvre and well contrived 
 a counterplot, that of locking up her husband's
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 179 
 
 wardrobe. Somehow or other, in the end, a curse 
 seems to light upon all plotting and manoeuvring, 
 and in this case Mrs. De Vere felt that it had 
 done so. Her husband was a very obstinate, 
 ungrateful, unmanageable patient, and the task of 
 nursing him was a very thankless one. 
 
 Meantime Courtney wisely forbore to shoot, 
 except where he was certain of not having his 
 right challenged ; but shooting was become a very 
 secondary object with him. Drawing, reading, 
 painting, singing, and practising the guitar with 
 Cecile and Amy, took up the greater part of his 
 time, and of theirs. Mr. Harcourt was gone 
 away for a few days, and a college friend, very 
 shy, reserved, and studious, was performing his 
 duties for him. Cecile was not at ease. She 
 dared not look within, but she was appa- 
 rently in very high spirits. Her happy, even, 
 serenity was gone ; but a brilliant, sportive mirth 
 seemed to have supplied its place ! It could not 
 have been very real, but it was admirably simu- 
 lated ! No it could not have been real ; for 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 directly she was alone, all semblance of gaiety 
 forsook her, and large tears dimmed her spark- 
 ling eyes, and stole over her flushed cheeks. 
 
 Amy continued to attend the daily service, to 
 visit the poor, the sick, and to teach in the 
 schools ; but Cecile had always some plausible 
 excuse ready. 
 
 She fancied that Dudley Harcourt would look 
 upon her return to these duties as an attempt, 
 perhaps a vain one (oh ! how her proud heart 
 throbbed at the thought !), to recover his favour 
 and renew their engagement. The pride of 
 both her parents the worldly, foolish, fatal 
 pride of the houses of De Vere and Lorraine 
 was blent in the blue veins that meandered 
 through the snowdrop skin of this beautiful but 
 mistaken girl. She wanted to show her lover 
 that he had no power over her and she proved 
 that he had power enough to make her neglect 
 her duties and offend her God ! 
 
 Among the invalid poor whom it had been 
 the constant occupation of Dudley, Cecile, and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 181 
 
 Amy to visit, to comfort, to read to, and to pray 
 with, was a very pretty girl, exactly of Cecile's 
 age, and who was in a consumption. Her story 
 was a very touching and a very simple one. She 
 had been crossed in love, as the country people 
 say. She had loved a young man, who had 
 loved her well enough to offer to marry her ; 
 but when she refused to leave her widowed 
 mother, and go with him to his native place, 
 many miles away, he taxed her with indifference, 
 left her in anger, and married in pique a bold, 
 forward, handsome woman, who had often tried 
 to win him away from poor Rose Moss. 
 
 Rose had loved him with all her heart, but 
 she was a good and dutiful child. However, in 
 total ignorance of the deadly anger and revenge 
 her refusal had awakened, and of the unworthy 
 rivalry of the bold, brunette beauty, Betty Bloom- 
 field, barmaid at the village inn, the " De Vere 
 Arms," she had formed a plan, and her mother 
 had consented to it, although reminding her the 
 while, " that old trees ill bear transplanting." It
 
 182 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 was to remove, with all their little belongings, 
 to Mark's own village, and settle her mother in 
 a little cottage there, as mistress of a dame- 
 school, for which she had ascertained there was 
 an opening, and which had always been her 
 mother's occupation. 
 
 The humble, loving letter in which this pro- 
 posal was couched was delivered to Mark Hea- 
 ther just as he had fixed the day for his wedding 
 with Betty Bloomfield. 
 
 Poor Rose received not only a cold, short, 
 decisive note from Mark, but a very insulting, 
 taunting, triumphant letter from the bride elect. 
 She was heart-broken. Not only she had lost 
 him, but she knew he could not be happy with 
 such a bold, thriftless coquette as Betty Bloom- 
 field, the barmaid. 
 
 The wedding took place. The gay peal of 
 the marriage bells was the knell of Rose's peace. 
 She had always been delicate, but as a happy 
 wife she might have lived long. Tears soon 
 ripen the seeds of disease ; and, though she tried
 
 A. LOVER'S QUARREL. 183 
 
 hard to struggle with her own sorrow, when she 
 heard Mark Heather was wretched in his ill- 
 assorted union, she fretted, silently but inces- 
 santly. Bold Betty had by her coquetry got 
 him into a fight. He was always passionate, and 
 prone to jealousy. A barmaid was no fit match 
 for such a man, when even timid, shy, retiring 
 Rose had sometimes excited his ready wrath and 
 watchful jealousy. He had dealt his adversary 
 an unlucky blow. The poor wretch had died ; 
 and Mark had been found guilty of manslaugh- 
 ter, and imprisoned. Rose was thinking for 
 ever, night and day, of Mark, in his lonely pri- 
 son, with blood on his hands and a brother's 
 death on his soul; and, weakened by disease, 
 she traced it all to her first rejection of his hand, 
 and self-reproach increased the agony of her 
 spirit and the fever of her blood. 
 
 She was in the greatest mental anguish and 
 bodily pain when Dudley Harcourt became Vicar 
 of De Vere. He visited all the poor, and he 
 soon found out Rose and her sorrows. By
 
 184 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 degrees he got her to tell him her whole sad 
 tale of love and sorrow. He pitied her deeply. 
 He saw little to blame where she saw so much, 
 and he told her so. She knew that her disease 
 was a fatal one. She had lost two aunts and 
 three sisters in consumption ; her father, and an 
 only brother, too, had died in that same thatched 
 cottage of that terrible complaint, and they were 
 all buried in the little churchyard, to which she 
 *elt and knew she was hastening. Dudley Har- 
 court gave her no false hopes of recovery. He 
 saw that in all human probability she must die? 
 and he tried to prepare her for death. He made 
 her see her Saviour's hand in all that had be- 
 fallen her, and brought her to believe her loss of 
 earthly happiness with Mark was gain, if it might 
 secure her heavenly inheritance. 
 
 He brought Cecile and Amy, who had known 
 her, and noticed her when they were all little 
 romping girls together, to sit by her, read to 
 her, talk to her, and pray with her ; with the 
 instinctive foresight of the dying, she soon dis-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 185 
 
 covered that Cecile and Dudley were lovers, and 
 she had loved so wildly and so well herself, that 
 every tale of true love was deeply interesting 
 to her, whether acted or read. 
 
 All that gentle Christian women could do to 
 cheer, to comfort, and to benefit a suffering 
 sister, was done by Cecile and Amy De Vere, 
 under the judicious guidance of their young and 
 zealous pastor. 
 
 They generally saw poor Rose twice or thrice 
 a week, and she looked forward to their visit as 
 to a sort of festival. 
 
 However ill and feverish, however oppressed 
 her breathing, or acute the pain in her side, she 
 would have her room set nicely in order, by the 
 good old dame, her mother ; would have a clean 
 hearth, with a good fire in winter, and fresh 
 evergreens in summer. Her best coverlid, and 
 clean pillow case, a snow-white little net cap 
 with its neatly quilled border over her softly 
 braided chesnut hair, and a soft white shawl over 
 her clean and frilled dimity bed gown.
 
 186 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 This was latterly, when her disease had made 
 such strides that she could not rise, as she 
 had been wont to do, when first they knew 
 her ; to sit in her high-backed chair by the 
 fire or the window as the weather rendered 
 pleasant. 
 
 But, up or in bed, the little room was, as the 
 old dame said, " as neat as print ;" a little round 
 old black mahogany table, drawn close to her 
 chair or bed a sweet nosegay, of fresh gathered 
 flowers on it her Bible her Christian Year 
 a few other religious works, her sewing and her 
 knitting. No speck of dust on carpet, old 
 bureau, tables or chairs. A pretty diamond- 
 paned lattice, festooned with monthly roses, 
 jasmine, and clematis, with a little muslin blind, 
 through which you looked on the small cottage 
 garden, once Rose's pride and occupation, and 
 which in happier days had been laid out by 
 Mark Heather. 
 
 As Rose lay in bed she could see the little 
 arbour they had contrived together, the bee
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 187 
 
 hives he had given her, the flower beds he had 
 laid out and filled with plants. 
 
 Once this prospect maddened her ; now she 
 could gaze upon it through soft tears of a not 
 unbearable regret. Dudley Harcourt had pro- 
 mised her, when Mark left prison, to seek him 
 out, and try to befriend him, and awaken him to 
 the only solace left for him. 
 
 The wretched woman he had married had 
 absconded with a former lover, taking all Mark's 
 little property with her ! Rose knew Mark 
 would be a desolate outcast, a lost sheep, but 
 she knew, too, that Dudley could bring him 
 home to the fold of the true Shepherd, as he had 
 done herself ! With the hope of comforting him, 
 she wrote daily some texts that seemed to her 
 peculiarly impressive, some comments on them, 
 some pious thought or little prayer in a book 
 Dudley Harcourt had given her for the purpose. 
 It was to be Rose's legacy to Mark, and was to 
 be given him by Dudley Harcourt ; and as Rose 
 thought of all the young Vicar had been to her,
 
 188 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and would probably be to Mark, she learnt to 
 gaze without agony on the bower Mark had 
 helped her to plant ; for she thought, " perhaps 
 we may yet wander hand in hand through im- 
 mortal bowers, perhaps meet, where sorrow, sin, 
 and death can never part us !" 
 
 Rose was much attached to both the sisters, 
 but in her heart she loved Cecile best ; she had 
 made Cecile promise, that if it were possible, she 
 would be with her when she died. 
 
 During the estrangement of Cecile and Dud- 
 ley, the former had not once been to see poor 
 Rose, until he went away for a few days. Dudley 
 Harcourt had been more than usually attentive 
 to the suffering girl, and had visited her every 
 day ; Amy, too, had not relaxed in her atten- 
 tions, but rather the reverse, still, the wistful 
 eye, the start when a step was heard, and the 
 slowly gathering tear proved that Rose was 
 pining to gaze on the beautiful face of the 
 beloved, absent Cecile. 
 
 Amy made what excuses she could for her
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 189 
 
 sister, but Rose felt they were only excuses; 
 she was very quick people with her disease ge- 
 nerally are. She felt sure, as she marked Mr. 
 Dudley Harcourt's somewhat constrained man- 
 ner with Amy, and how carefully he avoided all 
 mention of Cecile she felt certain there was 
 something wrong, a misunderstanding perhaps 
 a quarrel. 
 
 She had resolved to summon courage to 
 speak to the young Vicar himself on the subject, 
 and warn him of the danger of Lovers' Quar- 
 rels ; when, instead of his tall form, pale classic 
 face, and light waving hair, she saw by her bed- 
 side, the dark eyes, black hair, aad marked fea- 
 tures of Mr. Mowbray, his substitute; and though 
 she listened reverently while he prayed and read, 
 she did not open her heart in the least to him ; 
 and when he was gone, she wept bitterly. 
 
 However, Cecile, although so sinfully proud, 
 was not hard-hearted or faithless. She had not 
 forgotten poor Rose or her sufferings, but she 
 had feared, had she visited her cottage while
 
 190 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Dudley Harcourt was attending her, it might 
 seem to him as if she sought him, and courted 
 a reconciliation ; and to this fear she sacrificed 
 her duty to Rose, as she had done her duty to 
 
 God! 
 
 But when once she knew that Dudley Har- 
 court was away, and would not return till the 
 second Sunday from that one then passing away 
 so gaily in the enlivening presence of Courtney 
 Claverhouse, she resolved to go and see Rose- 
 She required no urging from Amy then. Amy 
 had constantly reminded her how much Rose 
 longed and even pined to see her ; but in vain ! 
 while there was a chance of her meeting Dudley 
 by Rose's bed-side, and of his misconstruing her 
 presence there !
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A FELLOW-FEELING. 
 
 CECILE resolved to go" and see Rose Moss 
 and so greatly was she changed from the happy 
 confiding Cecile she had been before her quarrel 
 with Dudley, that she meant to go alone, and 
 to keep her visit a secret from Amy ! . . . Amy 
 was no longer as dear as she had been to Cecile, 
 for Amy's countenance and manner betrayed, 
 in spite of herself, the disapprobation she felt of 
 her sister's unwise determination to show her in- 
 difference to Dudley Harcourt, by neglecting the 
 duties he had taught and exhorted her to fulfil. 
 Nor could Amy, while the engagement was not
 
 192 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 formally broken off, approve of the growing in- 
 timacy between Cecile and Courtney Claver- 
 house, and the pains her sister took to please 
 and subdue him, both by setting off her beauty, 
 and showing off her accomplishments. Cecile 
 was far too proud and vain to tolerate this sort 
 of silent rebuke in one who had always looked 
 up to her, and admired her as her superior, not 
 merely in beauty and talent, but in wisdom and 
 virtue. Cecile was two years older than Amy, 
 and never before having been tried in the balance, 
 had never before been found wanting. 
 
 Amy now, for the first time, began to question 
 that mental and moral superiority which she had 
 taken on trust. 
 
 Cecile saw that she did so, and this was a new 
 cause of anger against Dudley. It is very un- 
 pleasant to see a fond confidante, who had 
 never found a fault, or scarcely ever hazarded a 
 contrary opinion, turned all at once into an inves- 
 tigator and a censor ; and though poor Amy did 
 not speak her disapprobation, her looks and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 193 
 
 manner almost unconsciously to herself, were 
 eloquent of surprise, disapprobation, and dis- 
 tress ! 
 
 Cecile grew reserved, angry, and haughty with 
 Amy, and as if to show her contempt of a judg- 
 ment that could condemn her and side with 
 Dudley, she ceased even to make excuses for 
 neglecting the duties, once such a bond of union 
 between the sisters, and assuming a gaiety she 
 was far from feeling, appeared to admire Courtney 
 Claverhouse far more than she really did, for still 
 in the secret and virgin recesses of her proud and 
 rebel heart one idol was enshrined, and that idol 
 was her first, her only love, her once affianced hus- 
 band ! Yes still, (although she would not own 
 it even to herself), one whispered word of his 
 would have had a power over her which the most 
 passionate protestations of Courtney Claverhouse 
 could never acquire ! It was while she was teach- 
 ing in the village school, and Courtney, hoping 
 Cecile would keep him company, was sketching 
 in the library, that she, in her garden hat and 
 VOL. T. o
 
 194 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 cloak, (hastily snatched from the hall table,) gently 
 opened the door, and furtively sped through the 
 shrubbery, up the lane, and across the fields, to 
 the cottage of poor Rose Moss. 
 
 The poor girl was a trifle better one of those 
 deceptive improvements, which, in consumption, 
 so often excite hope, as if merely to make the 
 ultimate despair more terrible. Her room was 
 arranged as if she expected a visitor ; yet Cecile 
 had given no notice of her intention of calling on 
 her. Rose was looking very transparent and 
 pretty. She was decidedly thinner than when 
 Cecile had seen her last, but a bright pink flush 
 gave lustre to her large violet eyes, and a delu- 
 sive appearance of health to her general appear- 
 ance. Her delight at seeing Cecile was extreme ; 
 weak from long illness, she could not control the 
 evidence of her emotions, and when she gasped 
 forth her thanks, and the large tears would gush 
 forth, and the quick sobs choked her utterance, 
 Cecile felt a pang of keen self-reproach that she 
 had so long and so selfishly withheld so great a
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 195 
 
 pleasure as her visit, evidently was, from one 
 whose earthly joys must be so few in number ! 
 
 Moss Rose, as the Misses De Vere always 
 called her, in earlier days, transposing her pretty 
 name, in recognition of the strong resemblance her 
 modest beauty gave her, to the sweetest flower of 
 earth Moss Rose, we say, evidently expected 
 a visitor. Her mother having arranged the little 
 room in the prettiest and neatest order possible, 
 and arrayed Moss Rose in her clean net cap and 
 her white dimity bedgown, was gone to market. 
 Cecile de Vere was very kind ; but there was a 
 pre-occupied reserve in her manner which Moss 
 Rose had never seen there before. She seemed 
 anxious to appear in very high spirits, and was 
 restless and excited ; but Moss Rose, who by 
 her own breaking heart knew how to judge 
 of another's, felt that Cecile's gaiety was forced, 
 assumed, and suspected that she was miserable. 
 It seemed to her that Cecile laughed in order 
 not to weep. 
 
 Moss Rose felt as certain as if Cecile had con- 
 
 o 2
 
 196 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 fessed it, that a Lover's Quarrel was the cause of 
 the undisguised anguish she had read on Dudley 
 Harcourt's pale cheek when he had paid her 
 latterly a hurried visit, and that Cecile's ill-con- 
 cealed disquiet arose from the same cause. Long 
 before the final difference which had destroyed 
 them both, Moss Rose and her " sweetheart" had 
 been silly enough to run the risk of a Lover's 
 Quarrel, and well poor Rose knew every symp- 
 tom that Cecile quite unconsciously, and in spite 
 of herself, betrayed. 
 
 Now Rose was rather in awe of the proud 
 young Cecile ; had it been little Amy, she would 
 have spoken out, have tried, humble as she was, 
 to act the part (blessed as we know of God,) 
 the part of a Peace Maker. 
 
 She saw two young beings, at heart devoted 
 to each other, casting away the sweetest gift of 
 Heaven, that pearl of purity true love, for a few 
 careless, or at worst angry words. Not daring 
 to approach the subject directly, she said, taking 
 up a little tale that had been lent her, called
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 197 
 
 V Love and Pride," " Have you read this little 
 story, Miss ?" 
 
 "No," answered Cecile, abstractedly pulling 
 a beautiful monthly rose to pieces as she spoke, 
 " what is it about ?" 
 
 " It's called 'Love and Pride', Miss," said Rose, 
 with a faltering voice, the result of her conscious- 
 ness of Cecile's state of mind ! 
 
 Cecile coloured violently, and sudden anger 
 flashed from her eyes, and curled her proud and 
 beautiful lip as she said, " ' Love and Pride !' I 
 hope, Rose, if the love is on the lady's side, the 
 pride is too ; a woman who loves, needs all the 
 pride she can muster to prevent the man she 
 has raised to power, from using it to crush her, 
 or at least to humble her to the dust." 
 
 " Ah, Miss ! Of course you know best, and I 
 only speak from my own poor heart, not from 
 great and learned writers and a grand education 
 like you, Miss ! But I fancy, if girls could but 
 think so, humility would stand them in more 
 stead than pride. I only wish when I was well
 
 198 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and happy, and blest with the love of a true heart, 
 and enjojing the rapture of loving with all my 
 own for you know that is a great delight, Miss! 
 I wish that I had not been so exacting and so 
 tetchy and proud, and ready to take offence ! 
 that's not the way a poor, erring girl should take 
 with a proud, headstrong creature like man. 
 Before and after marriage, she should remember 
 a civil answer turns away wrath, and we should 
 be ready to forgive, seeing we have much to be 
 forgiven at least poor girls have, Miss ! Oh, how 
 often, as I lie on this bed, my death-bed, Miss 
 for you'll see I sha'n't last much longer and 
 gaze on the past as on a great map, I see what 
 a much better course I might have taken. I 
 oughtn't to have let Mark leave me in anger. 
 I ought not to have refused to go where he went. 
 That was not like the holy women of old. And 
 now I'm dying of a broken heart, and he's lying 
 in prison with a fellow-creature's blood on a 
 hand I might have kept free from sin, had I held 
 it in my own, as a loving maid should the hand
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 199 
 
 of him who loves her well enough to make her 
 the wife of his bosom and the partner of his life. 
 I never said a cold, a haughty, or a cruel word 
 to him, that it has not come back to me in the 
 night watches, and I could have shrieked in my 
 vain remorse, but for the fear of frightening 
 Mother !" 
 
 " Moss Rose !" said Cecile, " in long illnesses 
 people take very morbid views of their past con- 
 duct. My opinion is, you showed too little spirit, 
 instead of too much. Had you exercised that 
 dominion over your intended which every woman 
 ought to exercise, he would have settled where 
 you chose he would not have wished or 
 attempted to part you from your mother ; but 
 you accustomed him to have his own way, and 
 directly you disputed his will, he, like a spoilt 
 boy, (spoilt by you), broke the toy he had so 
 longed for your heart !" 
 
 " Oh, Miss !" cried Rose, " if you had pon- 
 dered on these things as I have, you would see 
 matters in a different light. You would try to
 
 200 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 root out pride and cultivate humility. You 
 would think that there is nothing, no nothing in 
 woman's life to compare in value with that true 
 love which I believe she never feels or inspires 
 more than once. Pride is of little use to a 
 broken heart, and is a poor comforter to a lonely, 
 blighted creature." 
 
 " Proper pride," said Cecile, " helps a woman 
 who has bestowed her affections rashly on one 
 unworthy of them, to conceal the anguish of her 
 disappointment from the tyrant her devotion 
 has empowered to trample on her. . , . But 
 enough of this let us speak of other things. 
 You are certainly better, dear Moss Rose. 
 If we can but nurse you through the winter, 
 and it prove as mild as the last, we may 
 see you yet at Court De Vere again, to keep 
 my birth-day on the 1st of June, as in the 
 dear old times." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Cecile," replied Rose, "before 
 the first snow whitens the ground I shall 
 be at rest under the old yew-tree we used
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 201 
 
 so to love; those translucent ruby berries 
 I have so often picked up, will lie on my 
 grave, and the moon-beams will light up the 
 words 
 
 ' Here lie the mortal remains of 
 
 ROSE MOSS, 
 
 Who died of a broken heart, in the nineteenth 
 year of her age.' 
 
 But, Miss Cecile, should it prove so, though I 
 see you do not believe it, will you be with me in 
 that awful hour ? I have always loved you so ! 
 more, far more than I have ever dared to tell 
 you. You once promised me you would be 
 with me in my last moments, it will be such 
 a blessing to Mother, such a solace to me ! say 
 you will." 
 
 " If possible I will, dear Rose ! But I hear 
 a horse's hoofs in the lane some one is tying 
 a pony to your gate. Do you expect the clergy- 
 man ? Mr. I forget his name Mowbray, is it 
 not?" 
 
 " I do expect a clergyman," faltered Moss
 
 202 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Rose, turning vermilion with excitement, and 
 the consciousness of an innocent desire to 
 bring the lovers together, while tears the 
 large, ready crystal tears which in great debility 
 we shed so freely, welled up into her lustrous 
 eyes. 
 
 The truth flashed across Cecile's mind in a 
 moment, and her evil genius, in the shape of 
 pride, roused her at once to resist and cir- 
 cumvent a plan that might have saved 
 her much misery, and restored her to that 
 perfect, balmy peace she had known, while 
 affianced to one she still loved, "not wisely, but 
 too well." 
 
 " It is Mr. Dudley Harcourt," she said, half 
 angrily, to poor Moss Rose, who, with her thin, 
 almost transparent fingers, was grasping the 
 beautiful white hand (so dimpled, soft, and at 
 the tips of the fingers and in the palm so deli- 
 cately pink) of the agitated Cecile. 
 
 " Do not detain me, Rose ! I have reasons 
 for not choosing to meet him."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 203 
 
 " Oh, Miss Cecile, if you have quarrelled, you 
 have every reason for wishing to meet him ; how 
 else can you make it up ?" 
 
 "Make it up !" said Cecile, her eyes flashing, 
 and hastily closing the Bible where she had 
 opened it, to read to Rose our Saviour's sermon 
 on the mount " Make it up ! You do not 
 know what you propose, neither he nor I wish 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, Miss, I am sure he does. He never 
 hears your name mentioned without changing 
 colour, nor sees anything you have given me 
 without the tears coming into his eyes. Oh, 
 stay, Miss ! do stay, and make it up here. The 
 bedside of one dying as I am, crossed in love, is 
 the very place to sacrifice pride and resentment 
 for the sake of true love." 
 
 But Cecile tore her hand away. She knew 
 there was a back way out of the little cottage ; 
 and while Dudley Harcourt, having secured his 
 pony to the gate-post, knocked twice, and then 
 gently lifted the latch of the cottage door, Cecile
 
 204 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 slipped out at the back entrance, and sped like 
 one pursued across the now neglected, but once 
 nicely-kept kitchen garden, and hurried along 
 until she reached a plantation which adjoined 
 the grounds of Court De Vere.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MISCONSTRUCTION. 
 
 COURTNEY CLAVERHOUSE remained about 
 an hour painting in the library, and expecting 
 Cecile's return. When he found she did not 
 come, he grew weary of his occupation, and 
 resolved to stroll out with his gun. 
 
 In the hall he met Mabel, who was bringing 
 home some needlework, and from her he learned, 
 not only that Cecile was gone to visit Moss 
 Rose, but that Mr. Dudley Harcourt had been 
 seen in the village, and was probably bound for 
 the same abode. 
 
 Courtney's very handsome black brows were
 
 206 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 contracted by this intelligence, and the clear 
 olive of his complexion was flushed with an angry 
 crimson. Both he and Mabel knew perfectly 
 well how it was with the lovers, and both dreaded 
 a meeting between them ; for where hearts are 
 still true, a meeting generally leads to a recon- 
 ciliation. . . . Mabel sincerely thought her 
 young lady might do a great deal better, and 
 that the noble, pleasant, handsome young gen- 
 tleman sent by Lord Rockalpine was much better 
 suited to Miss Cecile than a country parson, if 
 he were " as good as Job." She thought, too, 
 she would much rather lead a very gay life with 
 Mrs. Claverhouse, than a very dull one with Mrs. 
 Harcourt and therefore she dreaded a meeting 
 between lovers who had no real cause for their 
 " fond rage." 
 
 Courtney Claverhouse was full of anger at 
 the bare idea. It was evidently very distasteful 
 to him that Cecile and Dudley should meet at 
 all ; but why he was so much discomposed, we, 
 like Mabel, can only guess, and, like her, resolve
 
 A LOVERS' QUARREL. 
 
 for the present to keep our surmises to ourselves, 
 joining with her in her opinion, muttered to 
 herself, as she saw the gay young sportsman 
 stride hastily across the " pleasance " " Least 
 said, soonest mended." 
 
 Yes Courtney Claverhouse hurried along, 
 and so pre-occupied was he, that he did not 
 observe that the equinoctial gales, which had 
 been whispering among the trees all the morn- 
 ing, had suddenly altered their tone, and were 
 roaring and rending them ; that the clouds were 
 gathering together in long, dark, floating robes, 
 as if to consult what was to be done ; and 
 that, as he sped across a field adjoining the 
 gardens of Court De Vere, the rain began to fall 
 in a shower at first, but ere long in torrents. 
 
 Just at that moment, as he was making for a 
 sort of low shed, at the farther corner of the 
 field, he perceived Cecile running rapidly to- 
 wards the same place of shelter. She did not 
 see him ; but hearing footsteps behind her, and 
 fancying, perhaps, they were those of Dudley
 
 208 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Harcourt, urged to pursue her by some represen- 
 tations of Moss Rose, or seeing in her visit to 
 the cottage, an overture her pride repudiated, she 
 only fled the faster ; and when at length he was 
 near enough to touch her shoulder, but too 
 much out of breath to speak at once, she sud- 
 denly turned round, with the eye and the port 
 of a lioness at bay, but seeing her mistake, 
 laughed as she said, " Oh ! is it only you, Mr. 
 Claverhouse ? Let us take shelter together." 
 
 The "only you" was not exactly agreeable to 
 our handsome Anglo- Parisian ; but he smiled 
 gaily, and entered the cow-shed with Cecile. 
 Her complexion was heightened by her long 
 run ; and as she took off, and wiped and shook 
 her drenched and dripping hat, her thin dress, 
 also very damp, clung, like the wetted or waxed 
 draperies of ancient statues, to her faultless form, 
 and while her long hair, also streaming, hung 
 around her, Courtney thought " Sabrina fair" 
 had never had so lovely a representative. 
 
 Of course he helped to wring and shake the
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 209 
 
 cloak and wipe the large straw hat. Of course 
 he mourned over the saturated state of the little 
 feet, and offered to rush back to the Court for 
 an umbrella, a dry cloak, and goloshes ; but 
 though Cecile only said she did not like to 
 trouble him, he showed no real alacrity about 
 departing, for indeed he even proposed waiting 
 till the thunderstorm had passed, remarking that, 
 if " Celadon " were to be struck by the light- 
 ning, it ought to be by " his Amelia's " side. 
 
 Cecile smiled abstractedly. Her thoughts 
 were with Dudley. She had been very near 
 him. She had heard his step his gentle, " Mrs. 
 Moss, can I come in ?" She had been all but 
 in his presence she had all but breathed the 
 same air with him. Those only who have loved 
 can tell the potency of such approximation. 
 Cecile was in no mood for Courtney's gallan- 
 tries. 
 
 But Courtney, who had never been alone 
 with her before for more than a few minutes, 
 and subject to intrusion, finding himself so far 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 from the house, so secure from interruption, so 
 very near to her, and she, startled by the loud 
 thunder and vivid lightning, clinging to him 
 unconsciously, and looking so poetically lovely 
 the while, Courtney, overrating his own powers 
 and the encouragement she, in her de'pit amou- 
 reux, had given him, had thrown his arm round 
 her, and was exclaiming, "Beautiful, beloved 
 Cecile!" when a shadow fell upon them. A 
 figure, also seeking shelter, stood at the entrance 
 of the cow-shed; and Cecile De Vere and 
 Dudley Harcourt were face to face. 
 
 Yes ! he had seen her just at the moment 
 that, unconsciously to her, Courtney had thrown 
 his arm round her ; and, though she broke from 
 his embrace directly she was aware of it, to 
 Dudley Harcourt it seemed that it was only his 
 sudden appearance that had caused her to resist 
 it. The words, " Beautiful, beloved Cecile ! how 
 I bless this storm 1" had burst on his ear. 
 
 Just at .this moment the sky grew densely 
 black the roar of the thunder seemed fright-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 2 1 1 
 
 fully near the flash of the lightning illuminated 
 the agony of Cecile's face, the pale disdain of 
 Dudley's, and the half- triumphant smile of Court- 
 ney's countenance. 
 
 " Come in !" faltered Cecile, her pride forsak- 
 ing her at that moment, " come in, Dudley ! 
 Mr. Harcourt !" 
 
 " Miss De Vere !" he replied, turning to leave 
 the shed, " not for one moment not to escape 
 instant death can the same roof now cover you 
 and me !" 
 
 He was gone ! " Oh ! heaven ! the light- 
 ning will strike him !" cried Cecile, darting after 
 him. Courtney laughed a bitter laugh, as he 
 said, " Sont elles inconcevables ces femmes /" 
 but he did not move from the shed. 
 
 Cecile has reached Dudley she has grasped 
 his arm. " Come back, for Heaven's sake, not 
 mine !" she said. " Do not brave this dreadful 
 storm." 
 
 " What is the storm without," he cried, " to 
 that within ? what the lightning's flash to the 
 
 P 2
 
 212 A LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 sudden conviction of your perfidy ? I had heard 
 of this, but I scorned to believe one word against 
 you. It seemed treason to virtue and you, and 
 I had humbled my heart to beg your mercy. I 
 could not say pardon, since I had not offended. 
 Away ! do not touch me !" 
 
 " You wrong me cruelly, oh ! believe me ! 
 Will you not believe me, Dudley ?" 
 
 " Not against the evidence of my own senses. 
 I fear to trust myself to speak, lest I forget 
 what I owe to your sex, if not to you, and tell 
 you what you are ! Farewell for ever !" 
 
 He hurried away. Cecile sank against a tree, 
 stunned, motionless ; and Courtney came forth 
 and led her back to the shed. He called her 
 by every endearing name, but she did not seem 
 to heed or hear. He encircled her with his 
 arms, or she would have fallen to the ground. 
 
 The storm raged with unabated violence for 
 some minutes, and at one time they were almost 
 in darkness ; but by degrees the elements fought 
 it out between them, the winds were hushed,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 213 
 
 the rain abated, the artillery of heaven moved 
 off to a distance, and ere long a little patch of 
 blue sky spread into a cerulean expanse, and a 
 bright sun came out to dry the tears that hung 
 on Nature's face. 
 
 Cecile was deadly pale, but she took the arm 
 Courtney offered, and proceeded homeward. 
 On her way she met Amy and Ruth with cloaks, 
 goloshes, &c. 
 
 She answered Amy's affectionate enquiries 
 with monosyllables ; and as she entered the 
 hall, a letter to herself met her eye, lying on the 
 table. She seized it, rushed hastily up stairs 
 with it ; and though Amy piteously implored to 
 be allowed to come in and help her off with her 
 wet things, she did not remove one of them till 
 she had read that letter through and through. 
 She then controlled the emotion that seemed to 
 convulse her frame, wiped away the large, fast 
 welling tears, locked the letter in her desk, and 
 admitted Amy. 
 
 Amy had summoned Mrs. De Vere, whose
 
 214 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 authority her daughters never disputed. She 
 insisted on Cecile's going at once to bed. The 
 cook brought a warming-pan, the housemaid 
 a foot-bath, and Amy a bason of hot whey a 
 " lait depoule" made by herself under the super- 
 intendence and by the advice of Mr. Claverhouse. 
 
 Cecile shuddered when, with a smile, Amy 
 told her who had prescribed it, and pushed it 
 away ; but Mrs. De Vere desired her to drink 
 it, and she complied at once. A good fire was 
 soon kindled, the room darkened, and Cecile left 
 to have, as all her attendants said and hoped, 
 a good nap. She pretended to sleep, for she 
 longed to be alone ; but what chance of sleep 
 she had, let those' decide who, by their own folly 
 and vanity, have placed themselves in a false 
 position, and, while encouraging the attentions 
 of a man they do not love, found themselves 
 suddenly hurled for ever from the esteem of their 
 hearts' idol. 
 
 Love, shame, despair, impatience of Dudley's 
 contemptuous misconstruction, and a burning
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 215 
 
 sense of his injustice and of the impossibility of 
 vindicating herself, tortured Cecile's heart and 
 brain. Nor was self-reproach silent ; for had 
 she not, from a paltry pique and coquettish pride, 
 led on the gay and audacious Courtney Claver- 
 house, fresh from the very land of Vanity and 
 Flirtation, and by her smiles and sallies encou- 
 raged him to those very caresses and that embrace 
 from the degradation of which not even death 
 (she fears) can ever free her in Dudley Harcourt's 
 fastidious opinion and that, too, just as in his 
 breast love had triumphed over a just resent- 
 ment, and, having found absence only augment 
 the anguish of his spirit, he had written to beg 
 her to take him back to her heart, as he found 
 he could not live any longer in exile from his 
 Eden and his Eve. 
 
 Poor Cecile ! her pride is, indeed, humbled ! 
 Her vanity is too severely punished ! As she 
 lay, hot tears of anguish dropping unheeded 
 over cheeks burning with shame, a gentle knock 
 was heard, and Amy glided in. She held a
 
 216 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 note in her hand. It came from Dudley Har- 
 court. She believed, for she knew nothing of 
 what had passed, that it was to plead for a re- 
 conciliation, and that it would be welcome to her 
 sister, whose assumed gaiety did not disguise 
 from Amy her deep and real distress in this, her 
 first Lover's Quarrel. 
 
 She stole in quietly ; Cecile turned her face to 
 her pillow, and pretended to sleep, and Amy laid 
 the note on the dressing-table, and stole noise- 
 lessly away. We will lay before the reader both 
 the letter and the note. The letter, written 
 before Dudley Harcourt and Cecile De Vere met 
 in the shed, ran thus : 
 
 " Cecile ! once my Cecile ! I can bear this 
 estrangement no longer ! I am miserable ! I 
 cannot ask your pardon, since even now, hum- 
 bled as I am by the sense of your power and 
 my own weakness, I cannot implore your par- 
 don, for I cannot believe that I have erred, I 
 almost wish I had, for then I should have been
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 217 
 
 at your feet long ago. And you would have 
 raised me to your dear, warm, woman-heart, 
 and I should have been spared the greatest 
 misery I have ever known, the severest struggle 
 of my chequered life No ! I do not even now 
 implore your pardon, but your pity. Oh, Cecile ! 
 how has this dreary interval passed with you ? 
 ... I shudder when I look back upon it. I 
 knew I loved you dearly, deeply. I did not 
 know how wildly I worshipped you ! 
 
 "But you are generous, my Cecile! My 
 Cecile! Oh, may I once more call you my 
 Cecile ! once more press your angel form to 
 this distracted bosom once more see you smile, 
 and breathe the air you seem to embalm. Per- 
 haps I did speak harshly harshly to you ! and 
 when you had been so sweetly confiding, so 
 gentle, so bewitching harshly to you ! whom 
 in my inmost heart I do so doat upon, so 
 cherish, so revere ! Oh ! if so, I am indeed to 
 blame and I could kneel to you for pardon, my 
 sweet, my angel wife ! . . . For you will still be
 
 218 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 my wife, will you not, Cecile ? You will not 
 doom me to a slow death for a hasty word ? 
 They talk of your passing gaily, in the company 
 of another, these hours so heavy with anguish 
 to me. I do not believe one word that could 
 impair my entire faith in my Cecile. There is a 
 little change for the better in my fortunes, my 
 dearest ! The death of my uncle, Dudley, 
 enables me to make all the arrangements pru- 
 dence and your dear parents require, to secure 
 your future comfort. 
 
 " How soon will you be mine ? Oh, Cecile ! 
 I dare not trust myself to think of the rap- 
 ture, the ecstasy that awaits me, when you 
 are the wife of my bosom ! Send me one line 
 to say you will take me back to your dear heart. 
 We will not care who was most to blame ; but 
 we will never, never, never quarrel again. 
 " Your devoted, 
 
 "DUDLEY HARCOURT." 
 
 Poor Dudley ! how completely love had sub-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 219 
 
 dued him ! How perfect, when he penned that 
 impassioned letter, was his faith in Cecile and 
 how entire his devotion ! She had never dreamt 
 that he loved her with the fervour that letter 
 betrayed. His manner, before this first quarrel, 
 had always been calm, composed, and self pos- 
 sessed. He had never praised her, never re- 
 vealed a tithe of the ardent devotion he felt for 
 her. And Cecile, who had all a true woman's 
 wish to be passionately loved, only discovered 
 that she was so, when her own folly had wrought 
 the ruin of her peace, and robbed her of that 
 love which, mutual as it was, would have made 
 the little De Vere Vicarage a second Eden. 
 
 Too late she learnt how Dudley had loved 
 her, and, by her anguish at losing him, how 
 dear he was to her. The note Amy had brought 
 in simply said 
 
 " Miss De Vere will perceive that Mr. Dudley 
 Harcourt's letter was written under a delusion. 
 He will not trust himself to express an opinion
 
 220 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 of her conduct, nor say what he thinks of her 
 haste to accept another, before her formal en- 
 gagement with himself was broken off. Nothing 
 but the evidence of his own senses would have 
 convinced him that Miss De Vere could prove 
 wanting in delicacy, in honour, and in faith. He 
 will return all her letters, and expects she will 
 do the same by his. He encloses the lock of 
 hair she gave him ; and hopes, nay, prays, that 
 she may never have cause to repent the fickle- 
 ness and, indeed, heartlessness of her con- 
 duct." 
 
 Cecile did not attempt to rise or to appear 
 that day. A terrible night was that which she 
 passed alone with her own thoughts. LOVE is 
 avenged now on this proud apostate Love, of 
 whom she had never known the fatal power and 
 the giant strength, till his departing form flung 
 a dark shadow 'over her path of life ; and her 
 heart, crushed and bleeding, found no support, 
 no solace in Pride, for Pride was humbled in the
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 221 
 
 dust. Oh, how she loved Dudley Harcourt 
 now ! How enchanting seemed those peaceful 
 hours once consecrated to Duty and to him ! 
 How paltry, feverish, and unreal, the silly, guilty 
 flirtation, for which she had lost the man of her 
 choice, and the fair and virtuous career he had 
 asked her to share ! The next morning, early, 
 she wrote to Dudley Harcourt. Yes, Misery 
 triumphed over Pride, and she said 
 
 " You wrong me, Dudley ! cruelly you wrong 
 me ! And yet justice compels me to own you 
 seem to have just cause for your withering con- 
 tempt and haughty demands. Do not imagine 
 that, in trying to justify myself in your eyes, I 
 have any wish to renew our engagement or re- 
 cover your affection. You have doubted, judged, 
 and condemned me unheard, and I, humbled as 
 I am, have still too much pride to value any 
 sentiment of which confidence is not the basis. 
 With your love I have done for ever. You have 
 withdrawn it, and that under circumstances so
 
 222 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 wounding to my delicacy, so insulting to my 
 heart, that I would not regain it if I could. But 
 
 your respect, your esteem, I cannot bear to forfeit; 
 
 \ 
 
 and, therefore, I must condescend to justify my- 
 self, for I feel that appearances sanction your 
 verdict. 
 
 " The gentleman with whom you saw me, Mr. 
 Courtney Claverhouse, a friend of Lord Rock- 
 alpine's, and introduced by him, has, it is true, 
 become very intimate with us since the last even- 
 ing we spent together ; and it is true that, 
 piqued by your contemptuous indifference to our 
 estrangement, I have tried to forget the distress 
 of my heart by listening to his amusing conver- 
 sation and flattering compliments ; I own (for I 
 wish in this, the last letter I shall ever write to 
 you, to confess all) I own I have tried to find 
 solace in his admiration for the rankling wounds 
 to my feelings, caused by your ready renunciation. 
 But I had no arriere pensee in this no design 
 upon his heart. I forgot that what was nothing 
 to me, might be something to him ; that my
 
 A LOVERS QUARREL. 223 
 
 assumed pleasure in his society might encourage 
 hopes, and that I who had no heart to bestow, 
 might yet win his ! 
 
 " You imagine, of course, that I was walking 
 with him, when the storm came on, and volun- 
 tarily took shelter with him in that shed. You 
 wrong me. I was returning from a visit to 
 Rose Moss, and, in the thickest of the storm, 
 rushing to that shed for shelter, I met him, 
 flying to it also. 
 
 " I thought he liked and admired me I had 
 no idea he loved me, or sought my love. If I 
 had imagined such a thing, I should have be- 
 haved very differently. I may be vain and silly, 
 but I am not a coquette. The first, the only 
 words of love he has ever addressed to me, you 
 heard; the only caress he has ever presumed 
 to offer me, you witnessed ! Dudley ! you could 
 not have been more shocked and startled than I 
 was ; nor did your presence add aught to the 
 anger and scorn of my repulse. 
 
 "You know I love the truth, and I have
 
 224 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 now confessed it fully, though in some respects 
 it tells against myself. Upon my honour, as a 
 Christian lady, I am guilty only of the folly of 
 trying to please and liking to be admired, and 
 pique had as much to do with that frivolous be- 
 haviour, as vanity itself. 
 
 " I have now told you all ; it makes me seem 
 to myself very weak, but judging by what you 
 you saw, you must think me very wicked. Of 
 my misery, my shame, and my penitence I will 
 not speak, because I do not wish to work upon 
 your pity to make you take back to your pure, 
 noble heart, one unworthy of you. But I will 
 not return those dear letters so full of all that 
 can guide and solace my broken heart, until you 
 have received and pondered on this confession. 
 If you have nothing to say in reply, no comfort 
 to offer, no pardon to grant, then I will return 
 all and, in any case, I aspire to nothing in 
 future but your friendship. But oh, Dudley, 
 could you see your once proud Cecile, writing 
 to you on her knees, her hot tears welling up
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL, 225 
 
 from that broken fountain, her desolate heart 
 you would still allow her to sign herself, 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " CECILE DE VERB." 
 
 It was early morning when Cecile left her 
 room, and hurried to the little chamber where 
 Mabel worked. Mabel was just arrived she 
 started at the sight of Miss De Vere, in her 
 wrapper, looking so pale, so wretched, and so 
 tear-stained. Cecile gave her the letter, and 
 told her to take it at once to the Vicarage, and 
 not to wait for an answer, but merely to bring 
 her word whether Mr. Harcourt was in and up. 
 Mabel took the letter and departed on her 
 errand. 
 
 Cecile then dressed herself to go down to break- 
 fast. She felt certain that Dudley's generous 
 heart would be touched by her confession, her 
 humility ; but she resolved, even if he wished her 
 to be again, all she had been to him, his beloved, 
 his affianced, she would not agree. He had 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 226 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 condemned, discarde'd her, unheard, and she 
 would not owe anything to his pity and her own 
 entreaties. (Ah, Cecile ! pride is not dead in 
 your woman heart !) She felt very uncomfort- 
 able at the prospect of meeting Courtney Claver- 
 house after what had passed between them. 
 She had been so engrossed by the idea of what 
 Dudley would think, that she had said nothing 
 to check the evident aspirations of the Anglo- 
 Parisian, and she knew not how to meet with 
 coldness and disdain, one whom she had hitherto 
 always encouraged by smiles and courtesies. 
 
 When she went into the breakfast-room, she 
 found herself alone, and dreading a tete-a-tete 
 with Courtney, who generally breakfasted with 
 them, she ran upstairs to hurry Amy down. 
 
 They entered the library together, and there 
 they found a note from Courtney, saying the 
 post had just brought him news, which compelled 
 him to start for Paris at once that he could 
 not even allow himself the luxury of saying 
 farewell, but that he hoped to be back in time
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 227 
 
 for the ball, and should live in hopes of being 
 welcomed by its belles. 
 
 This note was a great relief to Cecile but 
 Courtney was so amusing a companion, and 
 entered with such lively spirit into all that was 
 going on, he had so much to say, and was so 
 eminently sociable and companionable, that the 
 breakfast seemed very dull without him. Mrs. 
 De Vere was much annoyed at his sudden de- 
 parture, and was terribly out of temper. Mr. 
 De Vere was in great pain, and full of the most 
 bitter complaints and trying exactions ; all 
 within was comfortless, and all without dreary, 
 for a drizzling rain feU incessantly, and Cecile, 
 who had a bad headache, left poor Amy to the 
 thankless task of waiting on her mother, and 
 nursing her father, and retired to her room to 
 watch with a beating heart for the answer she 
 expected from Dudley Harcourt. . . Alas ! she 
 expected in vain that answer never came. . . .
 
 223 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE RETRIBUTION. 
 
 IT was fortunate for Cecile at this crisis, that 
 Pride was not quite uprooted in her heart ; her 
 sufferings were terrible, but she bore them in 
 silence. 
 
 That it was incredible to her, Dudley Har- 
 court could be untouched by such a letter, and 
 take no notice whatever of her misery, her peni- 
 tence, and the undying devotion that was but too 
 apparent in all she had said. It was inhuman, 
 ungenerous, unchristian. But no ! no ! Dudley 
 was all goodness, all mercy and forgiveness. 
 
 Perhaps he did not believe her story per-
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 229 
 
 haps he considered her a base coquette, sud- 
 denly unmasked perhaps, oh ! what will not 
 fancy suggest in such cases perhaps, as Court- 
 ney was gone, gone on the very morning on 
 which she wrote to him, he believed that the gay 
 Anglo-Parisian exquisite, had forsaken his easy 
 conquest, and that she wanted to force back on 
 her first lover, a rejected hand and heart. 
 
 Cecile questioned Mabel, but when that dam- 
 sel had answered her question as to whether 
 Mr. Harcourt was at home, in the affirmative, 
 Cecile felt ashamed by any further investigation, 
 to reveal her misery to the quick intelligence of 
 her messenger ; and Mabel, as if unwilling to 
 appear to covet her confidence, or pry into her 
 secret griefs, after answering her queries with 
 evident reluctance, had hurried away to her 
 work. But while trying on the boddice of the 
 washed book muslin Cecile was to wear at the 
 ball, and which she had been required to alter, 
 this incorrigible gossip had contrived to let 
 Cecile know, that Mr. Dudley Harcourt had
 
 230 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 been riding out with Sir Thomas and Miss Eve- 
 line Coxe that he had dined there the day be- 
 fore, and that people began to think there was 
 something in it, and that she would make a 
 very nice, suitable wife for the young Vicar. 
 
 Cecile's engagement had been kept secret, 
 and therefore Mabel did not appear aware that 
 such an one had ever existed. 
 
 Amy, who saw the agony of Cecile's heart, 
 in her sudden and deadly pallor, told Mabel to 
 keep such idle gossip to herself that she was 
 certain there was no truth in the report. 
 
 "Well, Miss," replied Mabel, "I only tell 
 you what I hear it's all over the place and 
 everybody hopes it may be true, for she's a nice 
 young lady, and, of course, her Par being so 
 rich, will give her a nice little fortune, which 
 won't come amiss to our young Vicar. Then, 
 though she's a pretty face, and slim genteel little 
 figure, there's nothing about her to make it a 
 sin and a shame that she should be buried in 
 the country she wouldn't shine in London and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 231 
 
 at Court if she were there. She's just cut out 
 to be a quiet country clergyman's wife, and we 
 all hope Mr. Harcourt will think so. There's 
 no doubt about her opinion, Miss, for see 
 how regular she is at the early service, and at 
 the school ! how she visits all the poor and sick, 
 and how often she comes out of a poor cottage, 
 just as our young Vicar goes in. There can be 
 no doubt about her being ready to say ' yes,' 
 directly she's asked." 
 
 A ring at the Hall bell stopped the garrulous 
 Mabel, and sent her down to answer the door. 
 She came running up with a note for Cecile. 
 Amy saw at a glance it was Dudley Harcourt 's 
 hand, and hearing her Mother call, hastened 
 away. 
 
 Cecile, trembling in every limb, a spasm in 
 her throat, a cold moisture on her brow, and a 
 sudden pang at her heart, rose, left the work- 
 room and Mabel, and hurrying with tottering 
 steps to her own room, locked the door, and 
 throwing herself down at the foot of her bed,
 
 232 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 tried vainly to pray, and holding the long-ex- 
 pected treasure clasped to her bosom, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 It was come at last ! This note, how slender 
 it felt ! But yet it must contain the greatest of 
 earthly treasures for her Dudley's pardon, per- 
 haps his pity ! what if he should again offer her his 
 love, his confidence, invite her back to his heart, 
 propose to her again to be the wife of his bosom, 
 the partner of his life. Ah, how she should 
 prize now, privileges she had so undervalued 
 once ! How lightly she had regarded their first 
 quarrel, how she had provoked, defied him. But 
 if he ever endowed her again with the delicious 
 power she had so misused, how she would study, 
 how pray, how strive to deserve her happiness. 
 
 At length her tears, having somewhat relieved 
 her overcharged heart, she rose, sank in a chair 
 by the window, and opened the note. All colour 
 forsook her lips and cheeks as she read, and her 
 distended eyes glared wildly on the following 
 lines :
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 233 
 
 " Mr. Dudley Harcourt is surprised that Miss 
 De Vere has not complied with his request, and 
 returned his letters, &c., &c. He will feel 
 obliged by her doing so at her earliest con- 
 venience. 
 
 " The Vicarage." 
 
 A low moan of extreme pain escaped Cecile's 
 pale lips. For one moment she felt as if con- 
 sciousness was forsaking her, and the next as if 
 reason was giving way. She re-perused this 
 cold and cruel note, and pride suggested that 
 she must not give way that there was but one 
 thing to be done, and she must do it. His letters 
 and his lock of hair must be returned. 
 
 A thought flashed across her mind, and helped 
 to nerve her. Mabel's gossip was not without 
 foundation he was about to propose to Eveline 
 Coxe, and naturally wished before he did so, to 
 destroy all evidences of the love so passionately 
 expressed in those exquisite letters. 
 
 Cecile collected them. She would not trust 
 herself to open one of them ; she did not allow
 
 234 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 herself one glance at the soft fair lock she had 
 hitherto, in spite of their estrangement, always 
 worn in a locket concealed in her bosom : with a 
 a firm hand she sealed and directed the packet, 
 not writing one line with it. She hurried Mabel 
 off with it in spite of the rain, and in truth Mabel 
 seemed very willing to do her bidding. Amy 
 was busy helping her very discontented mother 
 to rub and foment the rheumatic limbs of her 
 irritable and exacting father. Cecile was alone 
 alone indeed ! She felt as if she were alone in 
 the world. She returned to her room, fastened 
 her door, and threw herself again on her knees 
 by the bed ; on the floor she saw a scrap of 
 paper, it had dropped from the packet she had 
 been sealing. Her heart grew sick with a vain 
 longing, an unutterable regret, a haunting, 
 agonising remorse. She knew it would renew 
 her anguish to gaze again on the fond words he 
 would never address to her again ; and yet she 
 would read them. The paper contained a few 
 wood violets still fragrant, the date the third of
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 235 
 
 April of that very year, and the words " My 
 own Cecile I have not seen you for a whole day ! 
 my love, it seems a whole age ! But we shall 
 meet this evening ! Oh, what luxury to walk on 
 the terrace by moonlight holding your dear hand, 
 hearing your sweet voice, and seeing love and 
 truth shine from those beautiful and earnest eyes. 
 I send you some emblems of yourself, my Cecile ! 
 The first violets of the spring take care of 
 them, darling and in the years to come, when 
 the wife of my bosom is looking over the records 
 of the long-ago, and our faithful love, we shall 
 smile when these violets faded, but fragrant still 
 remind us of these April days. Sweet Cecile, it 
 will be all summer then, for you will make life a 
 perpetual summer to your devoted D. H. 
 
 " I shall be with you long before Mamma's 
 tea hour." 
 
 There were the violets there the words of 
 passionate love there the ghosts of the past 
 and there the arid, hopeless, dreary present. Con-
 
 236 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 vulsive sobs shook Cecile's frame. She rose, 
 opened the window, and gasped for air. The rain 
 had ceased, the terrace was dry. She stole down 
 stairs, threw a shawl over her head, and glided 
 out. The air revived and refreshed her. " He 
 never loved me as I loved him," she though^ 
 "and now he loves another." Her tears, which 
 had been gushing hot from her heart, ceased at the 
 thought, and she continued to pace up and down 
 the terrace, determining to conceal her suffer- 
 ings ; then Amy joined her, told her tea was 
 ready, and kissing her tenderly, led her into the 
 library.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GLOOM WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 
 
 FOR two or three days, incessant rain confined 
 Cecile and Amy to the house. All was gloom 
 and discomfort without and within. Mrs. De 
 Vere, although she had never very cordially 
 approved of her daughter's engagement with the 
 young Vicar, and although Cecile kept to herself 
 all the details of the rupture, gathered enough 
 by cross-examining Amy and Mabel, to make 
 her suspect that Dudley Harcourt had taken the 
 initiative in the final breaking-off of the match. 
 Her natural and her maternal pride were severely 
 wounded by this discovery. She did not pause
 
 238 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 to consider that it was possible Cecile might feel 
 this matter deeply enough. She was very angry, 
 and when that was the case, she was not very 
 just or very merciful. She said and did many 
 things that would have sent most girls into 
 hysterics, but only roused poor Cecile to conceal, 
 beneath a calm and smiling exterior, the remorse 
 and wretchedness of her heart. 
 
 Among other indiscretions caused by Mrs. De 
 Vere's anger, was that of discussing the subject 
 in the presence of her fiery, cracked, and bed- 
 ridden husband. The idea that any man had 
 dared to slight his alliance and reject his daughter, 
 brought on poor Mr. De Vere an acute attack of 
 gout ; but not before he had, in his wife's ab- 
 sence, compelled Amy to bring him his desk, and 
 forgetful of Mr. Dudley Harcourt's cloth, he had 
 penned him a challenge, and named Claverhouse 
 as his friend in the affair. This absurd cartel 
 Mrs. De Vere wisely committed to the flames. 
 But she expressed her opinion in Cecile's presence, 
 that but for his " gown," under which feminine
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 239 
 
 protection he had dared to insult a daughter 
 of the houses of De Vere and Lorraine, it 
 would serve Dudley Harcourt right if he had 
 been horsewhipped first, and then shot through 
 the heart. 
 
 Cecile hated to have a word spoken against 
 one still so dear to her, and considered that 
 on the principle of " seeing is believing," 
 Dudley Harcourt was fully justified in what 
 he had done ; for had he not seen another 
 presume to embrace her, and heard him call her 
 " beloved ?" Cecile turned very pale, and tried 
 to say something in Dudley's favour, but her 
 Mother woulfl not hear her ; called her mean- 
 spirited and degenerate, and flung out of the 
 room slamming the door violently behind her. 
 
 The sudden departure of Courtney Claver- 
 house was almost as irritating to Mrs. De Vere 
 as the secession of Dudley Harcourt. She had 
 hoped that intimacy, by revealing all the charms 
 and merits of her pretty Amy, and by convincing 
 him of the fruitlessness of his attentions to her
 
 240 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 affianced Cecile, would procure for the former a 
 husband every way desirable, and an union 
 with whom, was so likely to restore herself to the 
 favour of Lord Rockalpine. 
 
 Meanwhile, the day fixed for the ball ap- 
 proached : gladly would Cecile have declined 
 carrying her heavy heart and faded attire into a 
 scene which she well knew would be crowded 
 with the enemies her parent's pride and exclu- 
 siveness had made, and where she did not expect 
 to meet one friendly eye or kindly smile. 
 
 Ah ! with what different feelings she had ex- 
 pected to prepare for that ball Dudley Har- 
 court did not like balls, he seldom attended 
 them. But Cecile had exacted a promise, when 
 they were friends, that he would escort them to 
 this one ball, and dance the first quadrille with 
 her. Of course, now he would not be there at 
 all ! If he were, his presence would be worse 
 than his absence, for they should meet as 
 strangers ! Oh, dreadful thought ! A few days, a 
 fortnight ago, her head had rested on his breast,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 241 
 
 his lips had touched her cheek, and now, if 
 they met, it must be as strangers ! . . . 
 
 Mabel's busy gossip brought news that Miss 
 Coxe was come down, followed by her beau, 
 Major Longbow Miles, with piles of luggage, and 
 one pre-eminent milliner's box, almost as large 
 as a small cottage, containing a ball dress, with 
 the splendour and fashion of which all Oldbury 
 was busy. 
 
 " No one has seen it, Miss, not of gentry ; 
 but Plume, Lady Coxe's maid, has told me what 
 it's made of." Seeing that this assertion excited 
 no curiosity, and eager to tell the news, Mabel 
 continued, " It's the richest lemon silk ever seen, 
 Miss, with broad white satin stripes, and seven 
 flounces, and each flounce is embroidered with 
 wreaths of flowers in their natural colours, and 
 the boddice and sleeves the same, and the head- 
 dress is of flowers too, a wreath round the brow, 
 and similar ones hanging down to the waist. 
 Plume says, it'll have a superb effect. Miss 
 Coxe is come home thinner that ever, and Mrs. 
 
 VOL. T. R
 
 242 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Plume says, what with her new stays tighten- 
 ing her in, and her Eugenie crinoline sticking 
 her out, she's quite a picture, and fit to be put 
 under a glass case. The lacing of her boddice, 
 Mrs. Plume says, is quite a trial ; there are 
 forty holes, so small you can hardly see them. 
 Oh, Miss, if you and Miss Amy had such 
 dresses, there'd be some pleasure in dressing you. 
 Ah, if you had a fairy godmother like Cinder- 
 ella's ! but wishing is idle work, isn't it, 
 Miss?" 
 
 " It is indeed ; if it were not, my wish would 
 be not to go to this ball." 
 
 " La, Miss, don't say so ! ... You'll look 
 better than any one." 
 
 " No, Mabel ; no ill-dressed people look well 
 at balls." 
 
 Mabel smiled. 
 
 " Why do you smile, Mabel ?" 
 
 " Did I smile, Miss ? I don't know why I 
 smiled ; but I must go and take some jelly to 
 Rose Moss's Miss Amy is there and I'm a
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 243 
 
 good deal behind my time." So saying, Mabel 
 hurried away. 
 
 " Oh," thought poor Cecile, " what would I 
 not give to avoid going to this odious ball ; but 
 the more I beg Mamma to give it up, the more 
 resolved she is to go, and the more she insists 
 on my going ! ... If I had a light and happy 
 heart, I should laugh at the trial it always is, 
 to appear among new and splendid toilettes, in 
 a faded, old-fashioned dress ; or, if I were ele- 
 gantly attired, perhaps, I could pluck up a spirit 
 to meet the occasion ; but as it is, it is a terrible 
 ordeal. ' We are so isolated, that none of our 
 neighbours will think of asking us to dance, and 
 no strangers will seek to be introduced to girls 
 in washed muslins and cleaned gloves ! . . . 
 How cross Mamma will be to see us sitting 
 down the whole evening what delight to the 
 Coxes and all the vulgarities of Oldborough ! 
 what mortification and misery I may expect to- 
 morrow I only hope Mr. Claverhouse will not 
 be present to witness it. I dare say we shall 
 
 R 2
 
 244 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 see no more of him ! Why should any 
 one care for us, wretched, ruined family that 
 we are ! Oh, that I could avoid going to this 
 baU !" 
 
 It never occurred to Cecile, as we fear it 
 would have done to most young ladies in her 
 place, to refuse to go. She had been brought 
 up in such habits of obedience to a proud father 
 and imperious mother, that no daughter of the 
 sixteenth century was more prompt and unques- 
 tioning in her obedience than Cecile ; proud as 
 she was to all the world, her parents only ex- 
 cepted. 
 
 Amy returned with news that Moss Rose was 
 a trifle better, and Mabel had as usual picked 
 up a whole budget of gossip in the village. In 
 the first place, Mr. Dudley Harcourt and his 
 friend and late substitute, Mr. Mowbray, were 
 invited to the dinner-party at Sir Thomas Coxe's, 
 which was to precede the ball. They had been 
 riding out with Major Miles, the dashing Miss 
 Coxe (Georgiana) , and Eveline. They had lunched
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 245 
 
 at the Vicarage, and Major Miles had visited 
 the church and churchyard. 
 
 " There's no doubt now, Miss," said Mabel, 
 " that it's to be a match between Miss Eveline 
 Coxe and our Vicar." 
 
 " Why so ?" asked Amy. 
 
 " He's given orders to have a conservatory 
 and a dressing-room built as soon as possible, and 
 Miss Eveline went with him to Oldhorough to give 
 directions, and to choose some new drawing-room 
 furniture and carpets. Most likely they'll be at the 
 ball together, Miss, for the whole party got off 
 their horses at Warrant and Flimsy's, and old Joan 
 Croak, who was in there with a clothing ticket, 
 says she's sure she saw our Vicar fitting on white 
 kid gloves, and that they were all as merry and 
 as full of joking and laughing as could be. She 
 says there were some orange flowers on the 
 counter, and our Vicar handed them, laughing, 
 to Miss Eveline. Do see if he's very particular 
 to her at the ball, Miss everybody says they're 
 over head and ears in love with each other."
 
 246 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 At tjjjis moment Bridget came in with the 
 keys, and a desire from Mrs. De Vere that Amy 
 would make the tea at once. Mabel went down 
 to help her, and Cecile was alone. Then, and 
 not till then, the bitter tears of jealousy and love 
 gushed over cheeks burning with the fever of 
 her spirit. She threw herself on her bed in the 
 agony of her passionate despair her utter deso- 
 lation. Is this the proud, the haughty, the in- 
 accessible Cecile ? who, that saw such agony, 
 would smile so lightly at a " Lover's Quarrel," 
 if this is its result. 
 
 At length she heard Amy's sweet voice calling 
 her to tea, and presently a summons from Mrs. 
 De Vere roused all her powers of self-control. 
 She bathed her eyes, smoothed her hair, adjusted 
 her dress, composed her manner, took her em- 
 broidery in her hand, gathered a monthly rose 
 that looked in at her open window, fresh with 
 the dews of evening, and trying to smile 
 and step lightly as of yore, Cecile repaired to her 
 father's room, where her mother was taking her
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 247 
 
 tea and giving him his, and where she found both 
 parents in very ill humour, prepared to lecture 
 her on many shortcomings, and to warn her to 
 beware with whom she danced and to whom she 
 spoke at the morrow's ball. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere, when out of humour, was very 
 sarcastic, and when very angry was a great 
 orator, at least in her own opinion. She was 
 very angry now, and had been so ever since 
 Dudley Harcourt had broken off his engagement, 
 and since Mr. Claverhouse had simultaneously 
 taken French leave. 
 
 Cecile stood for half-an-hour, meekly listening 
 to her mother's long and very bitter tirades, and 
 to a brief occasional taunt, inuendo or sarcasm 
 of a father tortured by gout and irritated by his 
 wife's angry discourse. 
 
 At length Bridget, who pitied her young mis- 
 tress, and who was rubbing her master's legs, 
 seeing Cecile's deadly pallor, and tear-swollen 
 lids, and being privileged as very old servants 
 generally are, interposed with " All this time,
 
 248 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Ma'am, poor Cecile hasn't had a drop o'tea, and 
 looks fit to faint away !" 
 
 " Go to your tea, Cecile !" was the result 
 spoken haughtily, and with a wave of the hand 
 by Mrs. De Vere. 
 
 " And don't shake the room as you walk, or 
 bang the door after you," groaned Mr. De Vere. 
 " I wonder where you got your violent temper !" 
 
 Poor Cecile was treading like a sylph, and 
 opening the door as gently as possible. She 
 made no retort, closed it noiselessly, hastened 
 lightly down stairs, and felt a great sense of 
 release, and comfort when Amy, leading her to 
 the sofa, embraced her tenderly, placed a little 
 table before her, and gave her an excellent cup 
 of tea and some toast she had made for her. 
 
 " I ought not to be so desolate while you love 
 me, sister !" said Cecile, laying her head on 
 Amy's shoulder while her tears dropped hot and 
 fast. Cecile was thinking aloud. Amy started and 
 clasped her tighter to her bosom; till that 
 moment she was not aware that Cecile was
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 249 
 
 miserable, was desolate ! She fancied she was 
 wounded, vexed, piqued ; but of grief so intense, 
 she had not dreamt. Oh ! how she pitied the 
 proud beautiful Cecile, so humbled now ! Oh 
 how she loved her ! Her own tears fell, and as 
 they dropped on Cecile's face and bosom, they 
 recalled her to herself. 
 
 She wiped her own eyes hastily, and Amy's 
 gently, and saying, " One who could desert, des- 
 pise, condemn me thus, is not worth a tear, Amy. 
 I will weep no more for him. Your tears, my 
 darling sister, are tears of sympathy they shall 
 never flow again. Oh, what blessed comfort to 
 be alone with you ! Amy ! Let us be all the 
 
 world to each other." 
 
 
 
 "Amen!" said Amy.
 
 250 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 THE important day dawned at last the day 
 of the Oldborough ball. It was a bright, soft, 
 sunshiny morning, an October morning, richer 
 in beauty than the finest morning in spring 
 only spring is full of hope, and autumn of regret. 
 The beautiful lime-tree avenue of Court De 
 Vere was strewn with leaves, and the shrubberies 
 and adjoining woods were rich in every variety 
 of tint and foliage. 
 
 The roofs of the Vicarage, and the tower of 
 the Church, which in summer were almost
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 251 
 
 hidden by a leafy screen, were now distinctly 
 visible from Cecile's window. 
 
 Amy perceived this with regret, for Amy 
 began to understand what this Lover's Quarrel 
 had really been to Cecile. Cecile slept, although 
 it was nearly eight o'clock, and Amy let down 
 the curtains of her bed, and dressed noiselessly, 
 and stole about on tip-toe. She so dreaded to 
 wake Cecile from happy dreams to torturing and 
 humiliating realities. 
 
 Her own toilet completed, and her fervent 
 prayers said, she stood for some time at the 
 window, and saw that in sober fact and in sad 
 confirmation of Mabel's village gossip, bricklayers 
 and masons were busy at the Vicarage, and she 
 could discern Dudley Harcourt directing and 
 superintending them ! 
 
 She felt very angry with him, and much 
 disappointed in his character. " He never could 
 have really loved poor Cecile !" she thought ; 
 both her pride in her sister, and her deep love 
 for her, severely wounded at the thought; " if he
 
 252 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 had loved her as she deserved to be loved, and 
 as, in spite of her pride and vanity, I begin 
 to fear she loved him, could he so soon have 
 transferred his affections, so easily have supplied 
 her place ? There is little constancy and no 
 delicacy in such a proceeding, and Eveline Coxe, 
 who must know of his recent engagement with 
 Cecile, is the very reverse of what I thought her, 
 so readily to accept one so lately the affianced 
 husband of another !" 
 
 As she thought thus, the church bell tolled 
 for the early morning service. Amy, who was 
 always punctual, put on her bonnet and cloak, 
 and hurrying along the leaf-strewn paths, and 
 across the dewy lawn, was soon passing through 
 the quiet churchyard, and into the House of God. 
 
 Eveline and her brother Ferdinand were at 
 Church, and in spite of all Eveline could do, the 
 thought would again flash across her mind that 
 she should see Ferdinand at the ball. 
 
 In the Coxes' large and gorgeous pew might 
 also be seen the governess and two pretty little
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 253 
 
 girls, twins of ten years old, who had appeared 
 when Lady Coxe's then youngest child, Eveline 
 was already eight years of age. It was Eveline's 
 influence which had prevailed with their Go- 
 verness, to attend and bring her pupils with her. 
 Sir Thomas disapproved of the daily service, 
 as papistical. Lady Coxe, who often rose late, 
 and who considered herself, and chose to be 
 considered by others " delicate," never gave it a 
 thought, except to grumble at the sound of the 
 church bell, and wish it could be muffled; or 
 to observe to her French maid, who brought in 
 her Ladyship's chocolate as soon as that rousing 
 bell had caused her own to ring with angry 
 impatience, that, if Sir Thomas had a particle of 
 feeling .for her, he would use his influence, as 
 the first man in the place, to get the bells 
 muffled, if not the early service done away with 
 altogether; and Finette would reply, "And a 
 good ting too, my Lady ! I am sure it break 
 your rest, and it kill all de old people in red 
 cloaks; and now Miss Clare go and take
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 her pupils, and not help me one bit, as she did 
 before." 
 
 And a. 4to Miss Coxe, the dandizette, the 
 would-be fashionable, the esprit fort, the belle 
 without beauty, and the bel esprit without wit, 
 she despised the old village church and the young 
 Vicar, who could prefer Eveline's baby face and 
 petite figure to her marked features and tall 
 form. She despised the small, scanty congre- 
 gation of school children and old men and 
 women ; and as she often read French novels till 
 dawn, she sometimes came down very late. So 
 her going was quite out of the question. 
 
 But there was one person staying at the Hall 
 who might have had influence with Miss Coxe 
 to induce her to attend the early service, had he 
 chosen to exert it ; and why he did not do so, 
 since he had resolved on attending it himself, 
 it would be hard to say, and he was in a general 
 way very gallant to Georgiana Coxe. This was 
 Major Longbow Miles, a distant connection of 
 the. Coxes very wealthy, a bachelor, a beau,
 
 t 
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 255 
 
 the great family referee in all points of etiquette 
 a severe judge of the dress, beauty, and man- 
 ners of the fair sex a little given tc boasting, 
 scandal, tuft-hunting, and time-serving but a 
 man who could make himself very agreeable ; 
 for, like Sir John Falstaff, his good humour and 
 high spirits were inexhaustible. He employed 
 through life the dashing army tailor who had 
 set off his boyish charms as an ensign; and 
 now that the rose of his cheek was transferred 
 to his nose, and that hair adorned not only his 
 head but his cheeks and his chin this same 
 tailor still secured him, wherever he appeared, 
 the favourable notice of the ladies, and the 
 verdict of a gentlemanly, well-dressed fellow, 
 from the men. 
 
 Of course it was not the tailor alone who 
 achieved this triumph ; Major Longbow Miles's 
 hatter, hosier, glover, bootmaker, jeweller, per- 
 fumer, and hairdresser were, all in their several 
 departments, the men and "the thing." He 
 was very active. Cleanliness with him seemed
 
 256 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 to rank not next to godliness, but, alas ! before 
 it. Never did he forget his bath no soil or 
 crumple ever appeared on his snowy and faultless 
 linen, and his thick chinchilla hair shone as if it 
 had been lackered. However, it was a little thin 
 just at the crown; but bright, black hair, streaked 
 with grey, curled closely round it, and united, 
 with dyed whiskers, moustachios, and jeune 
 France, to make him look very martial indeed. 
 
 On the morning in question, the morning of 
 the Oldborough ball, just after the service had 
 commenced, Major Longbow Miles opened the 
 door of the Coxes' pew, and soon his loud 
 responses edified the little congregation. 
 
 Amy De Vere, as she left the church, saw 
 him standing in the porch, somewhat pompously 
 distributing sixpences, shillings, and half-crowns 
 to the school children and old men and women, 
 and asking them questions without in the least 
 heeding their answers. 
 
 On seeing Amy, whom he had often noticed 
 when she was a little girl, and fed with sugar
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 257 
 
 plums from his bonbonniere, he approached her, 
 raised his hat gallantly, and said, " The rose has 
 redeemed the promise of the bud. 1 hope the. 
 ball is to be graced to-night by the fairest of the 
 
 fair ! Ah ! the young fellows won't sleep 
 
 to-night as soundly as they did last night! 
 How's my young Juno, Queen Cecile? My 
 best respects to her. A ce soir /" and kissing 
 his hand, he hurried after Eveline, Ferdinand, 
 the governess, and the twins, who, escorted by 
 Dudley Harcourt, were passing through the 
 Vicarage garden, to inspect the improvements 
 going on in the house. 
 
 " Alas ! there can be no doubt Dudley is 
 engaged to Eveline !" thought Amy, as she saw 
 them arm in arm together, and blushed to 
 detect Ferdinand watching herself, and lingering 
 behind his party, as if summoning courage to 
 approach her. Amy had been commanded 
 never to speak to any of the Coxes, and she 
 hurried away, afraid to trust her " sliding heart." 
 
 VOL. i. s
 
 258 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF EVE. 
 
 AMY hastened home. She always presided at 
 the breakfast table, and she knew that if her 
 father had wanted his coffee, while the keys 
 were in her pocket, her mother would not 
 consider her having been at church, a sufficient 
 excuse for any delay in the appearance of the 
 invalid's breakfast. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere did not actually oppose her 
 daughter's attendance at the early daily service, 
 but she only tolerated it, she never cordially 
 liked it. " It had not been the custom of her 
 youth," she said ; " her mother was the best
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 259 
 
 Christian she had ever met with, and conse- 
 quently the best woman, and she was satisfied 
 with prayers and her Bible at home, except, on 
 Sundays, and the great fasts and festivals of the 
 church. She saw no good in anything more, 
 and she always grumbled when the slightest in- 
 convenience arose from the absence of either of 
 the girls, and now that Dudley Harcourt, who 
 had introduced the daily service at De Vere was 
 in such great disgrace, a very little would have 
 tempted her to forbid her children's attendance. 
 Only she was a just woman, although harsh, 
 and she thought even a mother's authority did 
 not extend to matters of conscience and religious 
 opinion. Still Amy was always afraid she might 
 be interfered with in a matter which was be- 
 come to her one of vital importance, and she 
 always hurried back with a nervous dread of a 
 reprimand and a prohibition. 
 
 On this occasion there was no fear of either; 
 Mabel, all smiles and sunshine, met her in the 
 shrubbery, and exclaimed, " Oh, Miss I make 
 
 s 2
 
 260 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 haste, there's such a surprise for you such a 
 delightful surprise, even Miss Cecile seems quite 
 delighted." 
 
 " What is it, Mabel ? I cannot guess." 
 
 " Oh, Miss, I mustn't tell, but it's all the 
 doing of that dear, kind, handsome, Mr. Cla- 
 verhouse, I'm sure." 
 
 " Is Mamma pleased, Mabel ?" 
 
 "I never saw Mistress so pleased before, 
 Miss ; she's so flushed, and her eyes so bright, 
 she looks quite a picture but I shall let it all 
 out, I know I shall, if I stay a minute longer. 
 It's just like a fairy tale, I declare. Cinderella's 
 a joke to it." 
 
 Amy began to suspect something, and even 
 her quiet heart had its woman weakness, and 
 beat quicker than usual. She glanced up at 
 Cecile's window Cecile was looking for her, 
 smiling, certainly. She entered the house, her 
 mother sent for her immediately. She was in 
 her own room. A letter was open before her, 
 and three ver} large French deal boxes were on
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 261 
 
 the floor ; their contents were spread on the bed 
 and the sofa. 
 
 * " What is all this, Mamma ? Who has sent 
 these costly, these exquisite things ?" 
 
 " My uncle, Lord Rockalpine. It seems Cla- 
 verhouse has told him of the ball, and he has 
 ordered of the Empress's modiste the most ele- 
 gant toilettes for us, all that taste could devise 
 or money purchase. Nothing is forgotten 
 head-dresses, gloves, shoes, fans, wreaths, even 
 mouchoirs. Mabel has examined the dresses, and 
 declares they are certain to fit. Did you ever 
 see anything so exquisite ? Just look at mine ! 
 could anything be more suitable, more becoming ! 
 This velvet is the richest Genoa, and of a rose- 
 colour never seen in England ; just notice the trim 
 mings of the skirt and tj?e jacket, the superb 
 blonde and graceful feathers of the head-dress, 
 the sleeves and the chemisette ! It reminds me 
 of old times, when no girl ever took more de- 
 light in dressing her doll, than my dear, dear 
 uncle in dressing me ; and the doll was not
 
 262 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 more thankless," she added, wiping away a 
 tear. " And now look at your dress and Ce- 
 cile's, remark the taste of those boddices, the 
 delicate brilliancy of the silver embroidery of 
 those five tunics to each skirt the milliner has 
 forgotten nothing, even the Eugenie crinoline is 
 there, to give the exact amount of tournure that 
 is now the fashion in Paris. As for the wreaths, 
 they are perfection ; the only difference, that 
 yours is all white, while a delicate blush in the 
 roses adapts Cecile's better to her hair and com- 
 plexion." 
 
 Amy had never had a fashionable, not even an 
 elegant dress before tears of delight stood in 
 her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed with joy. 
 The beauty of the work, so peculiarly French, 
 delighted Mabel ; the shoes, the gloves, the fans, 
 the handkerchiefs, all seemed fitter for Eugenie 
 herself, than for the poor De Veres ! 
 
 Even Cecile, who had joined the party, seemed 
 won for awhile from her grief and her regret, 
 by the " woman's innocent and young delight."
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 263 
 
 "May I read this letter, Mamma?" asked 
 Amy. 
 
 " Yes, read it aloud ; it is from Mr. Claver- 
 house." 
 
 " DEAR MADAM, 
 
 " I am come back to Oldborough on 
 purpose for the ball, and to bring to you and 
 your charming daughters some ball dresses 
 made under Lord Rockalpine's direction by the 
 Empress's modiste. He has added some other 
 trifles, which he has taken a lively pleasure in 
 selecting, and I assure you I have been con- 
 stantly called upon for advice, which taxed my 
 memory to no small amount. Luckily, Mrs* 
 De Vere and her daughters are not easily for- 
 gotten. Lord Rockalpine sends his kindest love 
 to you all ; he longs to behold charms and graces 
 which I have described as best I might, and yet 
 I fear but faintly. 
 
 " I have been commissioned to purchase for 
 him at Houlditch's, a clarence and pair, and he
 
 264 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 wishes that the first duty it performs, should be 
 to convey you and the young ladies to the ball. 
 He planned that I should drive over in it, place 
 it at your disposal, and depend on your courtesy 
 for a lift in it. A coachman and footman of his 
 own will be in attendance, and I shall bring my 
 own valet, as he may be useful. I can give you 
 no idea of the interest and occupation this ball 
 has given my old friend, and how he longs for 
 my account of it. 
 
 " I am at the dear old Red Lion, (out of com- 
 pliment to Amy's regard for the Heartys.) 
 Frost's Family Hotel may thank her for my 
 desertion. The bustle going on here is terrific. 
 Really it is a noble ball-room. I fear old Hearty 
 will have a fit, he looks as purple as his own 
 
 port ! I hear there is not a flower to be had 
 
 for love or money, and not a pair of white kid 
 gloves left in the town. The officers of the 
 
 Dragoons, who have just relieved the 
 
 Fusileers at D , will be present. It 
 
 is said that Colonel Lord Beaudesert, who
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 265 
 
 lately married the great city heiress Miss Cobb, 
 will be there with his bride. The old Stubbses 
 are determined to appear, in spite of Smiley and 
 Jemima. Smiley Stubbs' get-up is said to be 
 something fearful. The band has just arrived, 
 Weippert himself. A ce soir ma chere dame ! 
 Mes hommages a Monsieur et ces demoiselles 
 votre toute de'voue'. 
 
 " COURTNEY CLAVERHOUSE." 
 
 " Now !" said Mrs. De Vere, in high spirits, 
 " we shall go to this ball as people of our birth 
 and pretensions ought to go ! For once I shall see 
 my girls as distinguished for the superiority and 
 elegance of their dresses, as for the beauty of their 
 persons and the dignified grace of their manners. 
 For once I shall feel myself again, and not have to 
 assume more than my natural hauteur to awe the 
 impertinence, awakened by the poverty of my 
 vamped-up and old-fashioned attire. Hitherto I 
 have appeared in such a guise, that any but a De 
 Vere ne'e Lorraine, would have beenridiculousand
 
 266 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 dowdy in it ! My darlings ! How I shall delight 
 in this ball ! How we shall enjoy it ! ... You, 
 Cecile, shall wear my pearl ornaments, and you, 
 Amy, my gold ones. What diamonds I have, 
 I shall sport myself." 
 
 The girls caught the infection of their mother's 
 unwonted joy ousness and triumph. It was almost 
 affecting to those good, dutiful daughters to see 
 her so elate, at what, in her youth, was an every- 
 day occurrence, a costly dress, in the latest fashion, 
 as a present from her uncle. 
 
 Nor was this all ; sad and sobered as was 
 Cecile's disappointed heart, it grew lighter as 
 she gazed on her five skirts of fairy aerophane, 
 so richly embroidered with an arabesque pattern 
 of dead and bright silver ; and as for Amy, who 
 had no such load at her heart as Cecile had, 
 (although she had her own little secret care) 
 Amy was almost wild with delight, and antici- 
 pated triumph. 
 
 It was most wise in Providence to make Eve 
 in her sinless state independent of dress. Alas'!
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 267 
 
 what a power does it possess in the hands of the 
 Evil-one. Goethe felt this when he made 
 Mephistopheles proffer to Faust a casket of 
 jewels, as prime agents in the seduction of Mar- 
 guerite ; and the exultation of the arch-fiend, as 
 she gazes enraptured on the lustre they at once 
 borrow from and lend to the young maid's 
 beauty, is worth a thousand homilies. 
 
 In that delicious old story, the Vicar of Wake- 
 field, among other touches of nature that bring 
 the simple Primrose family so vividly before us, 
 is one to the point where the Vicar says, " A 
 suit of mourning would make my Olivia grave, 
 and a set of new ribbons convert my sedate 
 Sophia into a coquette." 
 
 People talk of cultivating a taste for dress 
 absurd ! it needs no cultivation : to direct and 
 to modify it, is the duty of all who enter on the 
 solemn task of educating young female minds ; 
 but almost every girl is born with a more than 
 taste, with a positive passion for dress not the 
 pretty only, the plain and the ugly, possess it
 
 268 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 equally. It shows itself in the little baby-girl's 
 delight in her red shoes and blue sash. The 
 closely-shorn head of the ugliest girl in your 
 National school is full of it, and it evinces itself 
 either in the attempt to deck with glass beads 
 a sun-burnt throat, or to fasten a coarse collar 
 with a sixpenny brooch, or failing this, in her 
 deadly envy of some idle girl, who, having no 
 one to care for her soul, is allowed to deck her 
 poor frail body as gaudily as bad taste and scant 
 means permit. Beauty, passion, affection, 
 poverty, want, cruelty in parents, harshness in 
 employers, and the wiles of Satan and man, all 
 help to fill our streets, our hospitals, and our 
 penitentaries, with " poor, way-trodden flowers ;" 
 but altogether they do not enlist half so many 
 recruits in the ghastly legions of sin, as does the 
 love of dress ! 
 
 Why, there are countries in Europe where 
 women and girls will sacrifice their long hair for 
 a pair of earrings, and sell their teeth, in 
 spite of the pain of the process, and the life-long
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 269 
 
 inconvenience of the result, for a glittering neck- 
 lace. Man's love of pleasure causes much of the 
 domestic misery so rife in our land ; but woman's 
 love of dress, even among the respectable and 
 the elevated ranks of life, is quite as productive 
 of ruin and disunion. 
 
 Cecile and Amy, for the first time, felt what 
 had only been a quiet interest hitherto, throb like 
 a passion in their young hearts, as they tried on, 
 the first really beautiful, costly, and becoming 
 dresses they had ever possessed. 
 
 It seemed like magic, and Mabel's idea of a 
 fairy godmother was not out of place when these 
 dresses, made in Paris, proved to fit with a per- 
 fection never approached in England. The 
 glistening white satin shoes with their silver 
 rosettes, the gloves, with their rich embroidery, 
 had the same astonishing perfection. 
 
 Mabel could have explained this if she would, 
 but Mabel was bound to secresy. She had pro- 
 vided Mr. Courtney with the most exact patterns 
 her skill enabled her to take, and with a glove
 
 270 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and a slipper of each of the ladies, and Mabel 
 richly enjoyed the wonder that they were never 
 weary of expressing. 
 
 Of this splendid triumph of her own liege 
 ladies, as she always considered them, and of the 
 signal defeat of all the mean and envious back- 
 biters of Oldborough and the neighbourhood, 
 Mabel justly considered herself the assistant 
 architect. 
 
 " Oh, I hope he will be there," thought Cecile, 
 as she gazed at an enchanting image of beauty, 
 adorned in a manner that added a thousand-fold 
 to every charm of face and figure !...." He 
 has despised, condemned, disbelieved, rejected, 
 scorned me ! It would be a triumph to make 
 him bitterly regret what he has so heartlessly 
 spurned ! Yes, 1 trust he will be there !" 
 
 Amy hoped Ferdinand would see that the little 
 Amy, of whom he used to be so fond in her 
 pink gingham frock and straw hat, and call his 
 Shepherdess, in contradistinction to Cecile, whom 
 he always named a Queen could look almost as
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 271 
 
 queenly as her taller and more stately sister. 
 Amy, delighted to look at every artificial dew- 
 drop on the white roses and bright green leaves 
 of her wreath, and was never weary of scenting 
 the air with her large superb fan glittering with 
 spangles, and waving with marabouts. 
 
 The idea of Lord Rockalpine's equipage and 
 servants being at their disposal for this ball, 
 added not a little to their comfort and delight, 
 and the hearts of all three, warmed towards the 
 Prince of this fairy tale the Fortunatus, whose 
 wishing-cap had been so magically and so kindly 
 employed for them. 
 
 Mr. De Vere was as pleased as his wife and 
 daughters. Pride was gratified Vanity con- 
 tented. All this he said was owing to the blood 
 that flowed in their veins r not to any accidental 
 conquest, plebeian industry, or even talent. Lord 
 Rockalpine, though angry that his niece had 
 refused Lord Bagshot, had never disputed the 
 fact that Mr. De Vere's family was worthy to 
 be allied with her own, and he felt certain that
 
 272 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 had this not been the case, he would never have 
 concerned himself about the girls, though their 
 mother was a Lorraine. 
 
 He determined, to Mrs. De Vere's dismay to 
 attend the ball himself; he longed to witness the 
 triumph of his wife and daughters ; but the ex- 
 citement so increased the torture of his gout, 
 that he was obliged instead to retire to his bed, 
 and put himself entirely under the guidance of 
 Bridget, and the influence of eau me'dicinale. 
 As his hair, his eye-brows and whiskers were only 
 beginning to sprout out, Mrs. De Vere was ter- 
 rified at the idea of his appearing in public, and 
 though she regretted the cause that prevented 
 his going, she certainly rejoiced in the result. 
 
 While Cecile, by her mother's command, re- 
 tired to her room to lie down, for she looked 
 pale and weary in spite of her pleasing excite- 
 ment about her dress, Amy resolved to slip out 
 and pay a short visit to " Moss Rose." She 
 thought she could not fully enjoy the ball unless 
 she had first performed what she considered to
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 2?3 
 
 be a Christian duty. She found Moss Rose 
 with a brighter eye, more roseate colour, and 
 more hopeful voice and manner than usual, and 
 she heard that Mr. Dudley Harcourt, Mr. 
 Ormsby, Miss Eveline, and Mr. Ferdinand Coxe 
 attended by Major Longbow Miles, had been 
 paying her a visit. Moss Rose seemed dis- 
 posed to talk more than Amy thought good for 
 her, after the fatigue of receiving so many visit- 
 ors. Amy felt her pulse, it was unusually 
 quick, and her hand was hot. She would dilate 
 on the misery which she felt certain was in 
 store for Dudley and Cecile, unless they made 
 up their " Lover's Quarrel," and she revealed 
 more than she ever had done before to Amy, of 
 all she had suffered from being " wrath with 
 what she loved." 
 
 Amy told her what was reported about Dud- 
 ley and Eveline Coxe ; Rose shook her head and 
 said, " I cannot believe it, Miss Amy ; I am 
 certain our dear young Vicar loves Miss Cecile 
 more than ever. If he is going to marry ano- 
 
 VOL. T. T
 
 2J4 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 ther, it's like poor Mark Heather, in anger and 
 revenge, and it'll end in the misery of all par- 
 ties. Oh, if I could see Miss Cecile again, I 
 have so much to say to her." 
 
 " I will bring her to see you to-morrow, dear 
 Rose," said Amy, " and 1 must hurry away 
 now." Amy gently kissed Moss Rose's flushed 
 cheek, and was gone. 
 
 It was rather late on a lovely autumn after- 
 noon, as Amy hurried back to Court De Vere. 
 There was a fair at Oldborough, in addition to 
 the excitement the assizes always furnish in a 
 country town. There was not a living creature 
 of the human species to be seen either on the 
 angle of heath, the range of common, across the 
 fields, or in the Lady's Wood that skirted the 
 gardens of the Court. The sun shed, as it often 
 does in autumn, a richer and ruddier light than 
 in summer, and the woods were gay in every 
 variety of tint and tone, a soft haze enveloped 
 the distance, and not a leaf was stirring in the 
 mild soft air.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 275 
 
 As Amy crossed the fields, which were of that 
 fine close grass, common in very old pastures, a 
 number of snowy mushrooms, the growth of a 
 few minutes, appeared to her to be studding the 
 emerald sod. 
 
 Mr. De Vere doated on mushrooms, just as 
 invalids always do on something perfectly indi- 
 gestible. Amy knew nothing about digestion, 
 but she had a little basket in her hand, and she 
 resolved to fill it with these tempting buttons. 
 Mushroom hunting is a very fascinating, time- 
 wasting pursuit, and the rich sun was setting 
 behind the yew trees when Amy's basket was 
 full. 
 
 She began to fear she might have been 
 missed, and dreaded a scolding. She hurried 
 along, with an uncomfortable sense of the utter 
 loneliness and hushed repose of all around. She 
 entered the Lady's Wood it was positively dark 
 beneath the gnarled and interlacing boughs, and 
 her light step disturbed the fallen leaves, startled 
 a hare, and sent brace of pheasants aloft with 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 a noise that made her jump. Just at this mo- 
 ment, entering a path which led to the church- 
 yard, she came suddenly upon Ferdinand Coxe, 
 in the act of loading his gun. 
 
 Ferdinand turned very pale Amy blushed 
 crimson. He looked very handsome in his vel- 
 veteen shooting jacket and sportsman's cap, and 
 though Amy had resolved not to speak to him, 
 (for her parents had wished her never to ex- 
 change a word with him,) it was not in her gentle 
 nature to spurn him from her, when, timidly 
 approaching and holding out his hand, he said, 
 " Oh, Amy ! I was thinking of you at the very 
 moment you appeared. I was recalling the 
 happy hours we had spent in this dear wood, 
 and I have found out the initials of our names, 
 carved by ourselves ! Amy, T am not changed, 
 except that I love you more than ever ; but you ! 
 why do you seem to hate me ? why never give 
 me one little glance of recognition, one dear 
 smile ? You will drive me mad, Amy I will 
 not endure it, I will go abroad, and you shall
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 277 
 
 never hear when I die and where I am 
 buried." 
 
 " Ferdinand," said Amy, " how cruel ! You 
 know I may not speak to you." 
 
 " May not ! you would speak to me if you 
 loved me, for ' Love will still be lord of all ;' 
 but you do not love me you never did ! Fare- 
 well for ever !" 
 
 Amy burst into tears. 
 
 " Amy, you weep !" cried the young lover, 
 rushing to her, and throwing his arms around 
 her ; " you do love me ! you wish me to stay ! 
 you do not mean to doom me to death !" 
 
 " Oh, Ferdinand I" said Amy, her head droop- 
 ing on his shoulder, and her cheek burning 
 under his kiss. "What can I do I love you 
 still ! I must ever love you ! but our parents, 
 they never will consent." 
 
 " Time works wonders," said the young man, 
 full of hope. " If you are constant, Angel of my 
 life ! Star of my path ! Flower of my bosom ! I 
 will conquer all other difficulties. Let me take
 
 278 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 a good class, and my father will not oppose me. 
 Be you resolute, and your parents must yield. 
 Say you will be mine, if I can manage this, and 
 I shall be so strong in faith and hope, I must 
 conquer even the purse pride of my race, and 
 the family pride of thine. Swear if so you will 
 be mine, and will never smile on another." 
 
 " I do swear it, Ferdinand ; but let me go now, 
 and let our hopes and plans be secret as this 
 meeting !" 
 
 " I shall see you at the ball to-night, my 
 Amy ! and if I may not be your partner, I will 
 be your vis-a-vis ; and in Sir Roger De Coverley 
 I shall touch your dear hand, and look into your 
 violet eyes. Oh ! Amy, I had loathed the idea 
 of this ball. How I shall love it now ! Drop 
 a flower from your bouquet, that I may know 
 you are thinking of me. Say you will." 
 
 " I will ; but go now oh ! do go now !" 
 
 " One kiss ! and I will." 
 
 And Amy let him take that kiss. For the 
 first time their lips met ; and if they parted not
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 279 
 
 on the instant, who can blame them ? In their 
 pure young hearts they are affianced and with 
 that kiss have they sealed their troth plight. 
 
 Amy tore herself from her lover's arms 
 her heart fluttered and her cheek burned ; but 
 he was a man, and what was an affection in her 
 was a passion in him. He loved her with a 
 painful intensity. Tears glittered in his eyes, 
 and his noble brow was damp. A feeling very 
 like faintness came over him, when he found 
 himself alone ; and sinking on the ground, 
 he remained for some minutes unconscious of 
 everything but of Amy's first kiss. 
 
 Meanwhile, Amy had passed through the 
 Lady's Wood, and had reached the stile that led 
 into the churchyard path. She had to cross 
 that path and the churchyard itself. It was 
 growing dark and Amy was very nervous and 
 not a little superstitious. Full of thoughts of 
 love and lovers, her eyes wandered to the grave 
 marked by a head and a foot-stone, in which 
 Moss Rose had so often wished she were laid
 
 280 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 by the side of her sisters and her father. Dim 
 in the distance and the mist, Amy descried the 
 grave ; and to her surprise she fancied she saw 
 two figures, hand in hand, standing beside it. 
 
 They seemed to be the figures of Mark Heather 
 and Moss Rose! . . . .Often during their courtship 
 Amy had seen them in that attitude and on that 
 
 very spot Could Mark, then, have been 
 
 discharged from prison ; and if so, how rash of 
 him to tempt Moss Rose, in her sad state, out 
 on such an evening ! how weak* and wilful of 
 her to go ! Could it indeed be they ! As she 
 gazed, Mark, whose head had been bent down, 
 suddenly raised it, pointed to the sky, where the 
 moon was rising, and Moss Rose did the same. 
 Amy fancied she saw both their faces very pale, 
 very beautiful a lustrous light in their eyes, 
 
 and a smile on their lips That they looked 
 
 taller, larger than their wont ! and crying out, 
 "Moss Rose! Mark Heather! stop!" for they 
 had turned to move away, hand in hand, Amy tried 
 to approach them. The old country churchyard
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 281 
 
 was very crowded, and Amy's reverence for the 
 Dead compelled her to pick her way. She 
 reached the grave they were gone. She looked 
 round there was no sign of them. 
 
 " Had they melted in earth, 
 
 Had they vanished in air ? 
 She saw not, she knew not 
 For nothing was there." 
 
 Amy hastened home. She found her mother 
 and Cecile at tea, preparatory to their toilettes. 
 She told her strange tale. They treated it as a 
 fancy an optical delusion. She mentioned it 
 to Mabel, who said nothing but making an 
 excuse to leave the room for a minute, she 
 hurried off to Bridget and the cook, and related 
 what had occurred, winding up with this remark, 
 " I wouldn't say so to Miss Amy to spoil her 
 pleasure at the ball ; but mark my words what 
 she's seen are the fetches of Mark Heather and 
 Rose Moss ; and it's my opinion, from her 
 seeing them at old Moss's grave, that before
 
 282 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 another day's well over, we shall hear they've 
 both been called away." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said Bridget (also of 
 the same parish) : " whenever there's a death in 
 our family, the fetch is seen in the churchyard or 
 somewhere near !" 
 
 " And in mine, too," said the cook. " Father 
 was seen going into the De Vere Arms, though 
 he'd been bedridden for two year, and mother 
 was seen at his grave, though she'd lost the use 
 of her limbs, poor dear soul !" 
 
 " Mark my words, Rose Moss won't last long, 
 nor Mark Heather neither. But not a word to 
 Miss Amy." 
 
 " She don't seem to have a notion that what 
 she's seen is these fetches ! . . . . Mistress, as 
 we all know, is town-born and bred, and being 
 a strong-minded woman, or rather Lady, she 
 professes to disbelieve in ghosts, fetches, and 
 even witches, and won't so much as have them 
 named before the young ladies. Indeed, she 
 never would, else poor Miss Amy would have
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 283 
 
 known the nature of what she saw to-night, if 
 only by Mark Heather and Rose Moss seeming 
 larger than life, and disappearing she couldn't tell 
 how. But there's Mistress's bell. Well, I shall 
 be proud of our Ladies to-night. I don't believe 
 there'll be one at the ball fit to hold a candle 
 to them the bell again ! I'm off! I'll ask Mis- 
 tress and the young ladies to let you see them 
 when they're dressed." 
 
 " Ah," said the cook, " I'll warrant they'll 
 look fit to be put under a glass case and shown 
 at a fair." 
 
 " Vanity fair !" groaned Bridget, who was 
 growing very severe on the follies of the world.
 
 284 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE HEART'S MISGIVINGS. 
 
 MRS. DE VERB and her daughters were 
 dressed and assembled in the library, where tea 
 and coffee were prepared, when the sound of 
 wheels was heard. A carriage stopped at the 
 hall door, the bell rang, and the next minute 
 Courtney Claverhouse was shaking hands with 
 the ladies, and complimenting them, as if he had 
 had no part in it, on the exquisite taste of their 
 costly Parisian toilettes. 
 
 A more beautiful and dignified matron than 
 Mrs. De Vere certainly never chaperoned two 
 lovelier girls. Courtney, a professed connoisseur
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 285 
 
 in ladies' looks and dresses, could not detect a 
 fault. Much as he had admired Cecile during 
 his first visit, and great as were his expectations 
 from the dress, which he owned he had per- 
 suaded Lord Rockalpine to select (under his 
 guidance), even he was surprised at " the might, 
 the majesty of loveliness," embodied in her 
 person. Amy, too, looked elegantly, fascinatingly 
 pretty. Less handsome, less distingue'e than 
 her taller, statelier sister, she was a perfect 
 Psyche in form and face. Her agitating meeting 
 with Ferdinand had slightly blanched her cheek 
 and deepened the expression of her violet eyes. 
 But Courtney declared that the imperial lily, 
 Eugenie, had made pale beauties all the rage 
 in Paris ; and Mrs. De Vere trusted that the 
 excitement of a first ball, and the heat of the 
 room, would tinge her Amy's cheek with that 
 soft pink, which in reality enhances the charms 
 of every beauty, whether it be, or be not a la 
 mode at Paris ! 
 
 Courtney himself was dressed to perfection,
 
 286 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and looked very elegant and strikingly hand- 
 some. Mrs. De Vere, as he stood by Cecile, 
 remarked, with pride and delight, what a noble 
 couple they made, and remembered with a throb 
 of pleasure that Cecile was free. Mrs. De Vere, 
 attributing her uncle's liberality and kindness to 
 Courtney's flattering report of herself and her 
 daughters, felt her generally cold, proud heart 
 warm towards him. She spoke to him kindly, 
 almost affectionately praised the delicate em- 
 broidery of his shirt the brilliancy of his dia- 
 mond studs the chaste splendour of his waist- 
 coat and the aristocratic smallness of his feet 
 nd hands, set off, as they were, by Parisian 
 artistes, who deserved that exalted title. 
 
 Courtney saw that Mrs. De Vere admired 
 him sincerely, and he hoped that Cecile shared 
 that feeling. But he could not be certain on 
 that point. Her cheek was flushed, her eyes 
 dazzlingly bright, her hands trembled, and her 
 fair bosom throbbed ; but whether he was the 
 cause of this emotion in the generally calm and
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 287 
 
 rather reserved beauty, he, all experienced as he 
 was in women and their ways, could not decide. 
 A glance at the chimney glass, in which he saw 
 his pale, perfect features, glittering eyes, black 
 moustachios, and white teeth reflected, and in 
 which he saw too, how charming a couple Cecile 
 and himself formed, made him feel almost sure 
 that matters were progressing favourably for 
 him in her young heart. 
 
 At the delightful idea, that she would yet be 
 his that she was indeed " off with the old love," 
 and ready to be " on with the new" his spirits 
 rose, his eyes sparkled, his lips smiled, he 
 sported, jested, talked, flattered danced a polka 
 and a waltz with Amy ; for his instinct taught 
 him, that with Cecile "familiarity" would be 
 sure "to breed contempt;" and taking up a 
 guitar, he sang, as he gazed on Cecile's minia- 
 ture, lying open on the mantelpiece, that plain- 
 tively sweet old song, " Portrait charmant ! 
 
 Portrait de mon Amie !" There was 
 
 something in the touching beauty of the words
 
 288 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 and the soft melody of the old tune that deeply 
 affected Cecile's nature a nature which, in spite 
 of the flowers and straws on the surface, was 
 full of misery in its fathomless depths. When 
 Courtney suddenly raised his eyes from the 
 miniature to Cecile's face, he saw that hers were 
 full of tears. " Portrait charmant" was one of 
 Dudley's songs. 
 
 Could Courtney have looked into her deep 
 woman heart, he would not have felt so flattered 
 and so elated as he did. The image still en- 
 shrined there, was not that of the Anglo-Parisian 
 exquisite, so scented, so glittering, so armed at 
 all points for lady-killing. He would not have 
 seen those sparkling eyes that crisp, black hair 
 that " nose, so delicately aquiline" that jetty 
 moustache and jeune France that light figure, 
 so agile, wiry, and of middle height that 
 modish air and foreign style and manner. He 
 would have seen a classic head, with fair, waving 
 hair soft Grecian features blue eyes, large and 
 full of thought, rather pensive than sparkling
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 289 
 
 a very tall and very manly form to which the 
 snowy drapery of a surplice, relieved by the 
 scarlet lining of an M.A.'s hood, lent a grace 
 and a dignity no Parisian toilette could bestow ! 
 Yes : Cecile's eyes were fixed on Courtney, but 
 she saw him not. It was Dudley Harcourt on 
 whom her mind's eye gazed so passionately 
 for him those soft tears gathered slowly for 
 him that heavy sigh shook the flowers in her 
 bosom ! * 
 
 Had they been alone, Courtney felt so certain 
 they were for him, (that tear and that sigh), that 
 he would have spoken. But Amy, who did not 
 and who could not like him, dreaded his influence 
 over her mother, and trembled lest Cecile, in 
 pique or in despair, should accept a man she did 
 not love, to punish one whom Amy felt certain 
 
 she still adored ! Amy could not have 
 
 explained why she so hated the idea of Court- 
 ney's marrying her darling sister. She could 
 not have assigned any motive for her distrust of 
 one so charming, so handsome, so agreeable, 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 4| 
 
 and who had in so delicate a manner done them 
 such good service with Lord Rockalpine. But 
 yet she did both dislike and distrust the hand- 
 some, courteous lady-killer ; and, therefore, she 
 never left Cecile's side. 
 
 Seeing there was no chance of speaking a 
 word to Cecile in private, Courtney, with ex- 
 treme amiability and consideration, begged to be 
 allowed to pay a visit to Mr. De Vere, that he 
 might assure nim of the devoted care he should 
 bestow on the ladies confided to him, and express 
 his regret at his absence, and sympathy for its 
 cause. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was much pleased by this deli- 
 cate attention, and Mr. De Vere was quite won 
 by it. Courtney remained half-an hour in the 
 invalid's room, saying everything he could think 
 of to amuse and to comfort him. Flattering his 
 foibles, tickling his vanity, intoxicating his family 
 pride, dwelling on the beauty and dignified grace 
 of Mrs, and the Misses De Vere, prophesying 
 triumphs for them, and bitter disappointments
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 291 
 
 and mortifications to the Coxes of the Hall, and 
 the upstarts of Oldborough ; and, in fact, so 
 soothing, cheering, and exhilarating the old man, 
 that when Mrs. De Vere ran up before setting 
 off, to say a last good bye, and told him she 
 thought Cecile might be Mrs. Claverhouse as 
 soon as she chose, he replied 
 
 " I'd rather see her Mrs. Claverhouse with 
 six- hundred a-year, than Mrs. Harcourt with 
 six thousand. Courtney Claverhouse is the best 
 fellow in the world, and the most gentlemanly 
 too. He's a well-bred, sensible, straight-forward 
 fellow ; none of your half Papists or Latter-day 
 Saints. His heart's in the right place ; and no 
 wonder, he has some De Vere blood in his veins. 
 They shall have my consent, and my blessing as 
 soon as they like to ask for it. I hope the girl 
 will play her cards well, and she ought to win, 
 for she has among them, that Queen of trumps, 
 a sensible mother !" 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was delighted to see the eccen- 
 tric old sufferer " in merry pin," in spite of the 
 
 u -2
 
 292 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 gout, and it was with a light heart, very light 
 compared to that which generally ached in her 
 bosom, that Mrs. De Vere allowed Courtney 
 Claverhouse to hand her into the elegant new 
 Clarence, while her uncle's servants touched their 
 hats with the deepest reverence, and the well- 
 known arms of the Earl of Rockalpine blazoned 
 on the panels, vividly recalled the brilliant long- 
 ago of her ball-going days.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DRESSING FOR THE BALL. 
 
 WHILE Mrs. De Vere and her lovely daughters 
 are repairing, attended by their elegant Anglo- 
 Parisian escort, (all so full, alas ! of the pomps 
 and vanities of this wicked world) to the Old- 
 borough ball, let us pause for a moment to 
 enquire how others of our dramatis persona 
 have sped at their respective toilets. 
 
 We will not peep into the costly dressing- 
 room of high-born, well-bred, and wealthy 
 beauty, although, perhaps we may meet at our 
 County Ball some representatives of that race 
 
 " Born to tread the crimson carpet, 
 And to breathe the perfumed air."
 
 294 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 But there is little to entertain the reader, 
 where all the machinery of life is so well 
 greased with the " oil of palms" that there 
 can hardly be such a thing as a hitch, a halt, or 
 an upset. When, from the well-appointed 
 dinner, served by lamp-light, the lovely ladies 
 lovely in some respects since " fine fea- 
 thers," as Brisk, Smiley's tiger, said, " do make 
 fine birds," and all of them in this sense were 
 lovely he added, "all but one or two, who 
 were very handsome all but just their faces." 
 
 Such silken, stately, and calm patricians, who 
 sail from the richly- served table with its sta- 
 tionary dessert, its massive plate, glittering crystal, 
 and porcelain, " from foreign far land," its 
 piles of tempting fruit, the golden cone and 
 the green plumes of the ripe, fragrant, luscious 
 pine, the amethystine and emerald clusters of 
 the grape, the fragrant rock or water melon, and 
 all the treasures that Pomona lavishes, in and 
 out of season, at the shrine of Plutus ! The 
 rubied, golden, or sparkling tributes of Bacchus,
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 295 
 
 and all, fruit, wine, and every triumph of confec- 
 tionary, set off and enhanced by the fragrant and 
 graceful offerings of the redolent Flora. With 
 the daughters of Pride and Luxury we have 
 little to do ! 
 
 They sail, as we have said, from one scene of 
 splendour to another lisp a few bland nothings 
 to each other, over their mocha or souchong, and 
 then repair to indulge in the pleasures of " reflec- 
 tion,'' the only kind of " reflection " cultivated 
 by many of the spoiled children of Fortune and 
 Fate. 
 
 There, the neat-handed, quick-witted French, 
 or English lady's-maid (thoroughly competent, 
 as proclaimed in her advertisement) rapidly, 
 quietly, without fuss, hurry, or causing any pain 
 or impatience, exchanges the rich dinner-dress 
 for the lighter graces of ball-room costume ; 
 clasps with light hand the hereditary jewels or the 
 costly love-gifts round the white throat and fair 
 round arms, wreathes in the well-brushed, neatly- 
 parted, glossy tresses, real or artificial, and often
 
 296 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 both, (adroitly blent) the bright ribbons, the fresh 
 flowers, or the sparkling gems, hands the white, 
 scented, prettily trimmed Gants de Paris, the 
 embroidered, fragrant mouchoir with its wondrous 
 rivieres and costly lace, and throws over the fair 
 form, the opera cloak or the cashmere ! It is not 
 in such bowers the comic muse and the novelist 
 are tempted to dwell. 
 
 There is more to amuse and detain them, 
 where Georgiana Coxe is scolding her stolid, 
 heavy-handed Swiss maid. (In imitation of her 
 betters, she would have a foreign Abigail, and 
 the staunch Sir Thomas insisting on her being 
 a Protestant, Georgiana was obliged to close 
 with a Swiss.) 
 
 Now the Swiss are very good, honest, quiet, 
 pains-taking creatures ; but they are very slow, 
 impassive, clumsy, and obtuse. 
 
 " I shall never be ready, Gretchen !" almost 
 screamed Miss Coxe, as cross Sir Thomas, who 
 loved to annoy, knocked at her door, fussily 
 exclaiming
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 297 
 
 " Time's up ! We're off ! What a bore it is 
 you women, with nothing else on earth to do, 
 can never be ready in time for anything !" 
 
 " I shall never be ready ; and you are so very, 
 very stupid, Gretchen all your fingers are 
 thumbs !" 
 
 " Ya I Ya !" demurely answered Gretchen, 
 who did not understand, and would have been 
 equally unmoved if she had done so. 
 
 " Oh, you have stuck that hair-pin right into 
 my head !" 
 
 " Ya ! Ya I" 
 
 " And now you have knocked all my hair 
 down !" said Miss Coxe, as Gretchen, rather 
 short and thick, and with very stumpy arms, in 
 attempting to put over her mistress's head and 
 over her tall, scraggy form, the gorgeous, lemon- 
 coloured silk had not only knocked down the 
 -profusely braided hair but caught some of 
 the plaits in the hooks of the dress. 
 
 The disaster was increased and the difficulty 
 trebled, by the fury and impatience of the irritable
 
 298 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 dandizette. She tore her hair from the hooks, 
 and in doing so, disordered it so much that it 
 was necessary to remove the gorgeous mass of 
 flowers, beads, and ribbons, and smooth and 
 re-braid several plaits ! 
 
 While this was being done Miss Coxe grind- 
 ing her teeth, biting her lips, turning scarlet 
 (her large, hook nose especially) with repressed 
 rage and impatience, and scarcely able to repress 
 her tears in burst Rosabel and Blanche, the 
 twin pupils of Miss Clare. 
 
 " Oh! sister Georgie!" said Rose, " why, you'U 
 never be ready !" 
 
 " La !" cried Blanche, " how red your nose 
 and your neck do look ! I'm sure your hair is 
 a perfect fright done that way." 
 
 " Go down stairs, you little saucy minx !" 
 said the irate Miss Coxe, starting at another 
 knock at her door. 
 
 " That's the Major !" laughed Rosabel. 
 
 " Has awful Beauty put on all her arms ?" 
 shouted the Major through the closed door.
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 299 
 
 " Bolt the door, Gretchen !" screamed Miss 
 
 Coxe. 
 
 
 
 " Ya ! ya !" replied Gretchen, quite misunder- 
 standing her mistress, and flinging the door 
 open. 
 
 Miss Coxe caught a glimpse of a smiling face 
 and bright, red nose. 
 
 The Major, of one distorted with passion, and 
 a nose redder than his own. 
 
 Miss Coxe screamed, and rushing from the 
 glass, hid herself in her bed curtains. But the 
 Major was a gentleman, and had hastily darted 
 away. 
 
 " Oh ! what fun !" cried Blanche. " I wish 
 he'd not gone away, though. He's looking so 
 beautiful and he's been down to ask Miss 
 Clare, who's been making the tea, to sew a but- 
 ton on his white kid glove ; and oh ! Georgie, 
 I saw him kiss her hand when she gave it him 
 back." 
 
 "And oh! Georgie!" said Rosabel, "the 
 Major brought down a black neck-tie and a
 
 300 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 white one, edged with lace, to ask Miss Clare 
 which became him best ; and she said the black 
 suited his complexion best. And then," added 
 Rose, " he went away and came again to consult 
 her whether he should wear his blue or his dia- 
 mond studs." 
 
 " And," added Rose, " you forget that Miss 
 Clare had to decide what flower he should put in 
 his button-hole a white rose or a scarlet gera- 
 nium. But I forgot we came with Miss Clare's 
 compliments to ask you whether you'll have a 
 cup of tea or coffee." 
 
 " I shall be down directly, and don't want 
 either ; but I would rather have your room than 
 your company just now. So be off." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure there's more fun with the 
 Major and Miss Clare than with you and Gret- 
 chen so good bye;" and the little fairy tor- 
 mentors tripped away. 
 
 " Oh ! Blanche, won't Georgie look a Guy !" 
 said Rosabel, " with that very red nose ?" 
 
 "And Gretchen has made her hair such a
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 301 
 
 fright," said Blanche, " I don't think she'll get 
 
 one partner ! Won't she be in a rage, if 
 
 she doesn't?" 
 
 " Oh ! the Major must dance with Georgie 
 once, Blanche." 
 
 "Well, if he does, that'll be all. Besides, 
 she's as cross as two sticks." 
 
 " I'm glad I'm not like Georgie !" said one 
 little beauty. 
 
 " So am I," tittered the other.
 
 302 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 VANITY VANITY ALL IS VANITY ! 
 
 IF there were tumult and rage at Miss Coxe's 
 toilette if Sir Thomas grumbled, and found 
 fault with every one but Miss Clare if Lady 
 Coxe sneered and snarled, and the whole party set 
 off at last " in most admired disorder," hating 
 each other, the ball, and all the world things 
 were worse still at the Stubbses. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Stubbs (the good old couple), 
 it is true, were ready betimes. They were re- 
 solved to crush all hopes in Jemima and Smiley 
 of their not going ; and they were resolved, too, 
 not to be late.
 
 A LOVERS QUARREL. 303 
 
 They were sitting very comfortably after their 
 early and very substantial " tea," taking a cosy 
 glass or so of hot brandy and water, while Smi- 
 ley was stamping with impatience in one room, 
 and Jemima having what she called " a good 
 cry" in another. 
 
 Poor Jemima had good cause for tears. Not 
 only the united efforts of parlour- maid, house- 
 maid, and cook could not make her white satin 
 boddice meet; but cook, more zealous than 
 skilful, had dropped several large gouts of com- 
 posite candle on the gleaming satin skirt, just 
 where it was most seen. A gauze tunic (from 
 another dress) had to be hastily adjusted over it. 
 That tunic had been seen before in Oldborough, 
 and Jemima was wretched. 
 
 As for Smiley Stubbs, he had sent to London 
 for a coat, waistcoat, &c., &c., in the very height 
 of the last new fashion, and for a pair of bottes 
 vernis with very high heels, and in which his 
 foot was to look " small by degrees, and beau- 
 tifully less."
 
 304 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 These miracles of fashion were promised by 
 
 an early train to C . Seven o'clock had 
 
 struck, and they were not arrived. 
 
 Brisk, Smiley's tiger, had spent the day rush- 
 ing backwards and forwards between the carrier's 
 at C and his master's house. 
 
 Smiley had ridden thrice himself to C . 
 
 What was to be done ? He had figured so 
 brilliantly, in his own fancy, in the new and 
 bright garments he had ordered, that it seemed 
 a " regular let down," in his own vulgar lan- 
 guage, to wear any of his old " toggery." 
 
 Twice that day had he mercilessly thrashed 
 poor little Brisk, who at first was very seriously 
 anxious to get the parcels in time. 
 
 But at last, (Brisk was only a poor human 
 ill-used boy !) Brisk, his back smarting, and his 
 heart burning within him, Brisk began to 
 think of revenge !
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 PRACTICAL PIETY. 
 
 THERE are few beings, however mean and 
 low, to whom revenge is inaccessible the 
 smallest insect is generally armed with a sting, 
 and the more huge the giant, the greater the 
 surface vulnerable to pain. 
 
 In social position, Brisk was an insect, Smi- 
 ley a giant. 
 
 By the last train came the parcels ; one 
 from the tailor, one from the bootmaker. 
 
 " Now I can be revenged on that cruel brute 
 Master," thought Brisk, as he clutched the 
 parcels. " He won't look nothink at the ball 
 
 VOL. i. X 
 
 '
 
 306 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 in his old soot he said as much to Miss 
 Jemmy, and that if the things did but come in 
 time, he'd take the shine out of that 'ere parley- 
 vous that's so great with Miss De Vere. The 
 heels of the new boots is to be three inches, 
 
 his old ones ain't but two ! I've a 
 
 good mind to hide the parcels and say they 
 ain't come. Master must be off to the ball 
 soon, anyhow, and I could easy make it out 
 they didn't come til the nine o'clock train, and 
 never could be found out no ways ; that would 
 pay him out oh, how my back do smart it 
 must have some ointment put to it like it had 
 before; and to think now I can serve him 
 out !" 
 
 The boy sat down on a stile, and slowly the 
 moon rose behind the old moss-grown tower of 
 Court De Vere church, dark in the distance. 
 
 " There's the dear old church !" said the boy 
 (Brisk was a Court De Vere boy, born and 
 bred, and very proud of being so), " and the 
 Sunday school close by ! 'Twas only this time
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 307 
 
 last year Miss Amy called me one of her best 
 boys ! and the Vicar, bless him, give me a 
 Bible for good conduct, and Miss Amy marked 
 several texts. 'Blessed are the Meek/ that 
 wor one ; and ' Forgive us our trespasses or 
 debts, as we would be forgiven/ wor another. 
 Miss Amy said ' No one as didn't forgive wor a 
 Christian.' Then ain't I a Christian if I don't 
 forgive Master ? . . . No, that I bean't," said 
 the boy, starting up, tears in his eyes, and a hot 
 flush on his brow. " But I will be one, and a 
 good one too. I won't disgrace the dear kind 
 Vicar and Miss Amy, no, that I won't ! so 
 here goes !" 
 
 And, starting off at a speed greater than he 
 would have used to win any earthly prize (but 
 what a prize was that beaten, ill-used boy 
 really aiming at !), Brisk darted along dark 
 lanes, across fields, over ditches, and into the 
 paved streets of Oldborough, and never stopped 
 till, breathless, pale, and almost spent, he placed 
 the parcels in the eagerly-extended hands of 
 
 x 2
 
 308 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 Smiley Stubbs, who was watching, almost in 
 
 tears. 
 
 , " You are a good boy, Brisk," said Smiley, 
 
 tossing the panting boy half-a-crown. 
 
 Brisk was very glad of the half-a-crown, for 
 his mother was ill and very poor. 
 
 But he had a richer reward than that, and 
 Brisk went to bed very happy in spite of the 
 red smarting and angry stripes that interlaced 
 his poor little white back. 
 
 As for Smiley, his was not unmixed delight ; 
 the torture of the " tight boot" was revived for 
 him. 
 
 To get these tiny, shining treasures on at all, 
 was a work of time and agony. And when 
 they were on, what with their very high heels, 
 narrowed soles, and diminutive toes, Brisk was 
 well avenged, for Vanity is a cruel and remorse- 
 less task-mistress and torturer. 
 
 Several times Smiley Stubbs was tempted to 
 get them off -(if possible), but he thought of 
 Cecile De Vere, and the boots of Courtney
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 309 
 
 Claverhouse, which he had seen at the Red 
 Lion, while they were being cleaned ; " and he 
 resolved," he said to Jemima, " to grin and 
 bear it." 
 
 In every house of similar size and importance, 
 similar small tragedies were being enacted 
 similar victims were being offered up at the 
 shrine of Vanity. 
 
 Awkward maids were vainly trying to lace 
 tight boddices, missing holes, and sadly soiling 
 white silk or satin. 
 
 Frantic matrons were watching for mysterious 
 boxes from the hairdresser, wild with impatience 
 that they came not. 
 
 Large red hands were bursting through small 
 white kid gloves shoe horns were at a pre- 
 mium. Many a foot, like that of Cinderella's 
 sister, was forced into the tiny, white satin, all 
 but just the heel. 
 
 Every house was turned topsy-turvy every 
 heart was in commotion .every head was giddy. 
 But at length lights disappeared from the win-
 
 310 '"A. LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 dows shade ws ceased to move on the walls. 
 At almost every door was a vehicle the quiet 
 street was alive with carriages and horses. The 
 old Stubbses, in a bran new, bright blue car- 
 riage, picked out with red, went off. They 
 were the first at the Ball, and for some time 
 alone in their glory, enjoying a gossip with the 
 full-dressed and triumphant old Heartys ad- 
 miring all their admirable arrangements and 
 decorations ; the fluted red and white silk that 
 covered the walls the wreaths of dahlias and 
 evergreens - the chalked floors and brilliant 
 lighting up the abundant elegant refreshments, 
 and plentiful attendance. 
 
 They sent the carriage back for the youngsters, 
 Jemima and Smiley, and the company, ere long, 
 began to arrive at " The Red Lion." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 J. Billing, Printer, 103, llatton Garden, London, and Guildford, Surrey.
 
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