M^ IIIPMIIfH LEISURE HOUR SERIES WHO BREAKS-PAYS BY MRS^C.JENKIN Henry HoLT&Co. Publisher New^York ••*'tfi 2>. 6. PresCi Date j\ro. . L. CONTENTS. Schahabaham 158 S«eing is Believing 166 The Little Man and his Little Speech 171 Champs Elysees 175 What Happened during Forty-eight Hours 178 Forever — Never 185 The Sacred Hour of Fottr 191 Country Neighbours 198 Coming Events cast their Shadows before 209 Merry England 212 False Appearances 217 Cross Purposes 223 Lill Breaks 229 Adieu 235 A Question of Buying and Selling 237 Fencing 241 Airy, Fairy Lilian 245 The End of the Beginning 250 The Beginning of the End 257 A Peep into Bluebeard's Closet 263 Love in Hate 270 La Superba _ 276 Master and Pupil 283 Pazienza 290 Who Breaks— Pays 298 WHO BREAKS— PAYS CHAPTER I. Alone. Up five flights of stairs, to the attic of a house in the Rue de Berlin, Paris, that is where I am going to lake the reader, on an evening in the beginning of November, 184-. On the square hmding-place there are four doors, each with a card, on which is either written or printed the name of the dweller within. Let us examine the card on the door to the left as you go upstairs. Mr. Giuliani, that is the name of the person we are in search of — ring and enter. The apartment consists of two rooms and a closet, fitted up as a small kitchen. The sitting-room to the front looks down into the street — the bed-room would have a view of the court-yard of the house, but for its dormer window, which allows only of a sight of the sky and of a multitude of chimney-pots. In the small salon a large moderator lamp is burning on the diminutive marble table in the centre of the room. There is no fire in the chimney, though logs of wood artistically laid, and backed by a noble elevation of ashes, show prudent preparation for a cold evening. A black fur rug. bordered by red cloth cut into scollops, lies before the fireless grate; a divan occupies the space be- tween the fire-place and window — a useful piece of furni- ture, serving as a sofa, a chest of drawers, and, in a moment of necessity, even as a bed. A well filled set of book-shelves, a box for wood, a large Voltaire chair, half-a-dozen small walnut ones, and you have the list of Mr. Giuliani's furniture. A large map of Italy, and four or five pipes and meerschaums, ornament the walls. There is not one object of luxury, not one article for mere show in the whole room. Mr. Giuliani is seated at the table, and with com. 7 8 WHO BREAKS FAT9 pressed lips and knotted brow appears to be deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics, and jotting down learned anno- tations in red ink with a firm, crabbed, scratching pen. Occasionally he sends forth an angry volume of smoke from the short pipe between his lips. The writer looks thirty, at the least; his head is large, his hair black, with bronze reflections; it is abundant, and curls closely round the nape of the neck, and on the temples ; the rest has that waviness which saves much time and patience in hair-dressing; his beard is fine, glossy and curling, his ears small and white, his brow high, the eyebrows full and marked, his nose large, not j^eculiarly well-shaped, but manly and decided, his eyes black, large, and deep set. His figure is scarcely in proportion to so powerful a head ; it is thin, about the medium height, with a stoop forward of the shoulders, which may be the effect of either constant study or of ill-health ; but the hands are well-shaped, muscular hands, able to wield something heavier than a steel pen: for the present his feet are in black drugget slippers, but they are narrow, with a high instep. It is not easy to mistake whether a man is a gentleman or not, you discover it in spite of the thread- bare or glossy coat. Mr. Giuliani is a poor gentleman, one of the numerous body of Italian exiles. He is busy ■with no cuneiform characters, with no hieroglyphics. He is an Italian teacher in Paris, and he is deciphering some of his pupils' carelessly written Italian exercises. As the little gilt clock on the mantelpiece cliimes nine, he pushes away the copybooks with a sigh of relief, leans back in his chair for a few seconds, idly watching the white clouds of smoke from his pipe float away and thicken the already thick atmosphere of the room. Then he rises, opens the window, and sets to work again, but this time reading. By the way of relaxation Giuliani studies Greek, and is resolved to master that language; a rough task at his age; but it is now his sole ambition. After a youth of enthusiasm, during which he had frei'ly hazarded life and fortune in the cau.se of liberty, lie appeared to have grown philosophically indifl'erent to every shade of poli- tics, every form of government, the result of weariness at meeting always the same fair professions of goodwill, ALONE. 9 and finding ever the same cunning evasions of sacred promises. To rid himself of the remembrance of past hopes, lie had taken to burying- his wits in Greek roots, as another man miglit have drowned his in spirits or malt. His calmness was, however, not the fruit of resignation, it was the enforced passiveness of iron necessity. A true Anglo-Saxon ring at the door bell, a ring which says plainly, " immediate attention, for time is precious," startled the student to his feet. Nervous French ladies, when similar peals for admittance precipitate them from their chairs, never fail to exclaim, " Voild pour s&r des Anglais." Mr. Giuliani's visitor was a fair, slim young English- man. "Ah! Valentine, how goes the world with you?" The Italian's voice was strong and musical, and his smile made him agreeable-looking, if not quite handsome. "What, not dressed!" exclaimed Valentine Ponsonby. "Not dressed," affirmed Giuliani. "What business have I at a ball? I cannot dance, nor sing, nor perform any tricks to pay for ray admittance among fine ladies and gentlemen." " I could imagine a pedagogue talking in this style, but for a man of real rank—" " Be kind enough, my good Valentine, to leave my nobility where it is safest — in the dust ; and for Heaven's sake never spread it forth for the curious inspection of my pupils' parents, otherwise yoia will take the bread out of my mouth. At present the excellent souls look on me as of a course clay conscious of its inferiority, and therefore fitted to teach their porcelain daughters. With M'hat success I do so, these papers could prove," stirring the copybooks with the stem of his pipe. "Per dii>! one of the prettiest of my scholars, persists in wri- ting Favoriscava," and Giuliani laughed the abrupt laugh of one who lives much alone, without any of that continuity which sympathy imparts to laughter. Valentine, who was not sufficiently versed in Italian to be much tickled by the blunder, here laid a tiny note before Giuliani, saying, — "She gave it to me, in case you should stand out foi the dignity of a written invitation." 10 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Giuliani examined the writing of the direction and exclaimed — " That blessed English writing, there is no telling one hand from another !" He next investigated the seal, holding it close to the light. " Now, easy as it may seem," he continued, " I would wager ten to one, no Italian woman could make a seal like this ; so round, so small, so neat. How every trifle about this scrap of paper reveals the refinement of your country, Valentine. Its perfume of violets almost overpowers my tobacco." '• You will end by being an Anglo-raane, instead of the Anglo-phobe, you now are," said the young English- man. " No, never ; you English are a great people, the Romans of the present day, a race of giants, if you will ; but disagreeable for strangers to dwell among. I admire, even wonder at your royal Thames — the rendezvous of the world — but 1 prefer to hang up my harp in the trees liordcring the Seine." Valentine Ponsonby's eyes wandered to the clock on the mantelpiece ; the hands already marked the hall-hour after nine. " You then decidedly refuse to accompany me ?" he asked. " Decidedly !" "Write an apology, then — it is the least you can do; it is not for everybody beautiful Miss Tufton will write an invitation." " If she be all I infer from your admiration, I should fear to see her, philosopher though I am." With the unreflecting vehemence of youth, Valentine replied, — "You may well be afraid. She is creating quite a furore in ]*aris ; it is the fashion to be in love with her." "Indeed ! then I need have no more fears. Nothing more odious to me. than a woman whom it is the fashion to adore. In what otiier terms could you describe one of the celebrities of the dcmi-mimdcT' Valentine's honest face showed his displeasure. " 1 would not feel as bitterly and severely as you do, cv(Mi to be you, witli your talents and your brave ante- cedents " ALONE. 11 Giuliani smiled grimly. "I may speak of, and judge my fashionable fellow creatures hardly ; but 1 call God to witness I wish then) well, and do them no ill." " Why not treat them well ? Why repulse the kindness they offer you, and that merely because you have taken such a prejudice against the rich, and believ-e as my sister Alicia does, that the poor and the illiterate have a monopoly of the virtues ?" " The wise of all ages have protested against the rich, friend Valentine ; however, I assure you that my wish for obscurity arises jjrincipally from self-love. I feel myself to be sadly deficient in those things which are necessary to acquire the good-will of men and women in general. Deficient in fortune, station, and good looks, what wonder if I wish to keep out of the way of offend- ing, or being offended. You have all the requisites for pleasing, my good fellow; so now go and enjoy your evening. Adieu." The defeated ambassador departed, and Giuliani set- tled himself anew to his Greek, or tried to do so ; but the scent of the violets would not let him forget the dis- cussion ; and once more, and as if it were against his W'ill, he took up the note, and examined, with the atten- tion of an exi)ert, the paper, the writing, and the seal. Giuliani, when he had pushed aside the exercises of his pupils, had tasted the pleasure of anticipation. The task had been wearisome, but it had left his mind, as it were, braced for the enjoyment of a favourite pursuit. The discussion with Valentine had, on the contrary, disturbed his composure, put his mind into another frame than that which could sympathize with the woes of Antigone or Iphigenia. A load of ennui oppressed him; the solitude he had just praised, and preferred, overpowered him. More than once lately he had been assailed by a disgust of his position ; of being condemned to silence, isolation, and inactivity, at the age most fitted for action and en- thusiasm. More than once lately he had been taken unawares by an ardent thirst for freedom from this im- mobility — freedom, even through a catastrophe. The books were thrust aside, and Giuliani went out, desirous of being jostled by a crowd, that would send him back 12 WHO BREAKS PATS. contented to his attic. Out he went into one of the great thoronghfares leadiuo: from the Chauss6e d'Antin to one of the Barriferes. There Giuliani stopped, and without accounting to himself as to why he did so, ex- amined this poor locality. Opposite to him. a highly coloured sign, which showed hira a beflounced female, holding a now-born babe ; at his right hand a tavern, all the faces round the buffet as lurid red as the smoky light from the oil lamp, and shining like the copper vessels hanging round. A yard or two farther on, a flower-shop, exhibiting principally funeral wreaths, woven of yellow inimortclles, bordered and studded with black. Heart-rending decorations on them, denoting the rupture of every tie that can exist between man and man. A ma mere, A monjils, A mon mart. The neighbouring dealer was a revendeiise, or retailer of cast-off clothes ; through the open door, dis- tinguishable by the flickering light, was seen a counter, on which lay the tawdry sjilendours of much-soiled ball dresses. As Giuliani walked by, the mistress of the tomb flowers (a misshapen mass of female clay) was bidding good-night to the proprietress of the cast-off finery. He strolled away to the Boulevards — to that division of them which lies between the Rue de la Chauss6e d'Antin, and the Rue Richelieu; gaiety and splendour enough there, but under the one and the oilier he espied the funeral wreaths and the cast-off finery of the Bar. ri^re. He went back to his attic contented with his solitude. BEGINNIXaS. 13 CHAPTER II. Beginniugg. TiiK next day, as Giuliani was on his road to give a lesson in the Kue de Courcelles, he met Colonel Cale- don. Despite a broad diftereuce in their respective ages, the Englishman and the Italian had been fellow- soldiers ; and whenever the colonel saw Giuliani, a pressing invitation to dinner was an inevitable conse- quence. The attraction these two men had the one for the other arose from their acquaintance dating from so many years back ; otherwise, with their strong national prejudices, they might have walked in parallel lines for ^ver without finding or making one point of contact. As it was, Giuliani contemplated with benevolence in Colonel Caledon the peculiarities must disagreeable to him in other English, viz., his faith in England's uni- versal superiority, his unconcealed contempt for every one born out of the pale of the British dominions, his belief that morality was unknown beyond the channel, and that it took two Frenchmen or three Italians to be a match for one free-born Briton. Colonel Caledon, on his side, freely acknowledged that though Italians were " a set of scamps," his friend Giuliani was a " man," and deserving of a better fate than to have been born one of the Pope's subjects. " When I have seen a fellow, before he had hair on his chin, fight as I saw Giulio Giuliani fight by his poor father's side, in Portugal," would the colonel say, "1 am bound to stand up for his character, Italian or no Italian. He is a man — that I'll say for him." In fact, when two men, whose principles of actiou are the same, are forced into companionship, whatever the differences of nation- alities, friendship is sure to follow. Courage stood as high with the colonel's delicate wife, as with the brave old soldier himself. Mrs Caledon, however, had attracted her rough, burly husband by all that is most feminine in woman carried to excess. Giu- liani, and, indeed, most people, liked Mrs. Caledon, she being a person emmently charitable \ :> the self-love of 2 14 WHO BRKAKS- -PArS, others ; listening with an appearance of interest to every pitiless egotist, her large eyes filling easily with tears of sympathy, when most others would have civilly sup- pressed a yawn of ennui. " Women," says Mdlle. Necker, " fill up the intervals of conversation and of life, like those down coverlids placed in packing-cases full of china ; these duiits count for nothing, yet without them everything would be broken." Mrs. Caledon's mission in life was to be a duvit, and to keep sharp angles from meeting. In compliance with his old comrade's cordial invita- tion, Giuliani, at seven in the evening, was in the Cale- dons' drawing-room, in the Rue de Berri. A peculiarly juvenile old gentleman, accompanied by an elderly lady, were the next arrivals. " Sir Mark," said the hostess, " allow me to introduce vou to one of Colonel Caledon's oldest friends. Sir Mark Tul'ton— Mr. Giuliani." Impossible not to remark, and, having remarked, not to meditate on. Sir Mark Tufton's youthful figure, in contrast to a face as lined as those of Michel-Angelo's Fates. lie looked as though some draught he had taken of the elixir of youth had only been strong enough to act on his body — the contrary to what happened to the man in the Spanish story, whose head alone lived. The baronet's face had the thinness of that of a skele- ton ; his blue eye was glazed, at times almost extinct. "Cruel and vain," tiiuught Giuliani; a human tiger." Other guests followed in quick succession^ — among them some girls, who, seated on a divan as far I'rom their elders as possible, chirped like ncwly-fiedged birds to some young men standing before them. The girls were fair, rosy and puzzlingly similar in dress, uiannera and complexion. Tiie young men all had a little turned-up moustache, hair parted down the middle, units sent forth in hundreds by fashionable tailors, hatters and bootmakers : the re- 8enil)lance went fiirtlier tlian dress; their faces were without any individnaiity of exj)ression, looking as if they had been all set in the same mould, having us ;uucb mobility as if they had been made of wood. BEGINNINGS. 15 They talkod fluently, learnedly and sometimes pedanti- cally. Heaven help the one who, in detiance of such wells of learning, ventured on a sharp original observa^ tion, which, being original, would necessarily be out of the daily beat of the hearers — out of their narrow, charmed circle. The bold adventurer would be met by a chilling silence, or put down by an authoritative rebufl", either check serving to denounce him as a pert idiot. As Giuliani listened to the conversation of these examples of the rising generation, of whom the majority were Parisians, as he contemplated their wooden, self- satisfied, half-ennuyed faces, he decided that Among them the search would be vain for a dreamy, poetical Werther, with the luxuriant faults and virtues of youth ; those faults which, leaning to virtue's side, give promise of generous ardour for a good cause, whenever the hour of action may arrive. He turned away with a sort of longing for the sight of one who belonged to another generation, of one who had loved and fought from heroic sympathy, for the sight of the old colonel's manly counte- nance, with its keen, impatient, grey eyes, and broad humorous, benevolent mouth. The colonel was oscilla- ting rapidly between window and window of his drawing- room, while into his wife's face, who was fluttering after him, a look of anxiety had stolen, which deepened almost into fear whenever she looked towards Sir Mark Tufton, whose ghastly eyes were fixed on the door, as if it had a spell for him. The conversation at the ottoman died into whisperings, interrupted by girlish titterings. A solemn butler had twice reconnoitered the party assembled ; on his second appearance Mrs. Caledon whispered to her husband, and having received some advice, the hostess, trying to smile, went to the young ladies. To some request there came an eager outburst of assent. Passing by Giuliani, Mrs. Caledon stopped to explain her trouble. " We are thirteen," she said ; " for that naughty Miss Tufton has failed me at the last, after promising faith- fully to be punctual. She knows Sir Mark would not sit down to table thirteen, for an empire. I am not sure he will think himself safe with two of the girls at a side table " 16 WHO BREAKS — PATS. While Mrs, Caledon was still speaking, tlie foldino; doors opened, and a young lady glided in, as calm and smiling as if she did not know herself to be a delinquent. She was dressed in some rich black silk, which, as she moved, showed glossy spots. A silver grey cloak, trimmed with swansdown. hung over her shoulders. Even at the first glimpse. Giuliani thought her a miracle of loveliness. For the moment he lost sight of every other person in the room. Delicate, slight, but erect, and well poised, she looked tall without being so. Her hair was of that peculiar fairness which has the a]ipear- ancc'of being slightly powdered with gold. Her eye- brows were narrow, smooth, and darker by several shades than her hair, and so were the long lashes, that caused her blue eyes to look black by candle-light. Her nose was singularly handsome, and her lips red and curved, closing well over small, white, regular teeth, which must have made any mouth pretty. The new arrival's beauty was enhanced and set off by an indescribable piquant air of freshness about her whole person and dress. Every eye was fixed on her, she engrossed the silent attention of the thirteen persons she had thrown into embarrassment, without showing the least symptom of shyness or of self-consciousness ; the smile on her face was puzzling; whoever remembers the Mona Lisa in the Louvre will have seen that sort of mysterious smile. Giuliani, to say the truth, after the first ahock of her uncommon loveliness, gazed at her as he might have done at any charming actress ; he almost felt inclined to applaud, when he saw her meet Sir Mark's furious grins with such intrepidity. Colonel Caledon led the beautiful offender into the dining-room, every ruffle cleared from his brow, and out of his voice almost all the loudness and roughness vanished. The colonel was not above showing the lively cnthnsiasm he felt fcir beauty. The elderly lady, who had arrived with Sir ]\Iark, and whom Mr. Giuliani had 8u])i)oscd to be Sir Mark's wife, was a Miss Crumpton. a distant connexion of theTnftons, and considered liy the baronet as a dependant, because he did not receive any share of her income of fiftj BEGINNINGS. 11 pounds a year, but gave her board and lodging free, for the motherly care she bestowed on his orphan grand- daughter. Miss Crumpton had an old-fashioned, cere- monious politeness, that made her strive earnestly through the long dinner, to induce the gentleman on her right and left to become sociable ; but the former was English, and not having been specially introduced to the latter, an Italian, could not be tempted into any informality. •' The count speaks English as well as you or I," said Miss Crumpton, to her stiff right-hand neighbour. She believed every continental gentleman to be a count. "Doubtless," turning to her left hand, "you have spent many years in England, sir?" " A couple of years, madam," was the reply, and Giuliani ready to laugh at the rank bestowed on him, thought of making a public disclaimer of any right to have his identity so muffled during his uncle's life. But he remembered in time having once tried to undeceive Mrs. CaledoQ herself, who, after listening, or apparently so, to his explanation, had on the very next occasion, lavished on him more " Monsieur le Comtes," than ever. So he now said to himself, " Allons done, comme ga leur pJatf, qu'tis s'en donnent de leur hirihi." After dinner, as there were so many French present, the English custom of the gentlemen sitting over their wine after the ladies had left the table, was set aside, and all the guests passed together into the salon. Miss Tufton was immediately surrounded by every man in the room, with two exceptions ; Sir Mark, who, seating himself between two of the youngest girls, was very happy to be pelted by the pert answers elicited by his gallant speeches ; and Mr. Giuliani, who, as usual, was well cared for by his tender-hearted hostess. She carried on her conversation with him in the lachrymose tone generally used on state visits of condolence, ready to lead or follow him into discussions on ■' Suffering Italy." But Giuliani steadily resisting all personal topics, Mrs. Caledon. driven to seek some other subject, asked him if he did not think Miss Tufton " the nK)st lovely creature he hud ever beheld." 2* 18 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. He said quietly, "Yes." '' Do yon put no more enthusiasm than that into youf yes f I have no patience with the young men of the present day. lifting their lorgnons to examine a charming girl, as if she were merely a muslin doll." " My admiration is warm and sincere." " That's right. Come and let me introduce you to her.'' " Thank you ; but I have a dread of all beginnings." " You really puzzle me, Mr. Giuliani." " Have you never heard, Mrs. Caledon, that it is only on first meeting with a person that the judgment is un- prejudiced, and that whatever the impression then received, it ought not to be slighted ?" "You think her fantastical ; but, poor dear, that is the effect of her education, and the odd life she has led with that queer miser, her grandfather. You must not be prejudiced against my little friend ; slie is not yet nineteen, remember. Ah. if you heard her sing, you would not be able to think ill of her." "Though my admir.ation should reach the liighest pitch of intensity, still, believe me, we should never as- similate. Leave me to enjoy the pleasure of the eye, which, in this case, is perfect." It is not easy to account for the persistence many people show in carrying out a matter which can be of no imi)nrtancc individually to Ihom ; unless, indeed, their pertinacily proceeds from having met with oi)position. or from an inability to rid themselves of the pressure of an idea until it has become action. Whether from one motive or other, or from being what country-folks jMthily call "meddlesome." Mrs. ('aledon went direct from Mr. Giuliani to Miss Tufton with a proposal of introducing the Italian to her, beginning at the same time a sort of sketch of his biography. "I know all about your liion, dear Mrs. Taledon," said Lill Tufton, rather petulantly; "a silly youth, called Valentine Ponsonby, has given me his history : an ungrateful country, lost illusions, a man with a tragic comjilexion. Why didn't he come to our dance when J was so good as t(» ask him ?" " Question him yourself" "No, indeed; that would be making him imagine BEGINNINGS. 19 himself of importance. Pray don't introduce him, I should never be able to think of anything wise enough to say ; I have no political convictions — " She stopped suddenly. Giuliani was replying to one of the Englishmen, who, having been hitroduced to him by Colonel Caledon, was kindly endeavouring to put him, as an Italian, right, as to Italy's safest course, conclud- ing with, — " You will find I am right, sir ; our papers say just what I do." " Sir," replied Giuliani, " I have the temerity to differ from beginning to end from many English papers." " I like him 1" exclaimed Lill ; " I like people who speak oat for themselves ; besides, I like his voice ; it ii a gentleman's. I judge of people's rank by their voices Oh, yes, bring him here, by all means." Beautiful eyes sparkling with welcome, lovely lips speaking welcome, generally are irresistible to men, even to the sourest of misogynists, if such creatures really exist. The hermit ofthe Rue de Berlin, who feared " beginnings," because he knew they must be followed by inflexible, inevitable consequences, who was so sure of no possible assimilation between him and the beauty, was neither strong&r nor weaker than his neighbours when he came under such pleasant influences. In fact, as the lovely face turned itself ingenuously to his gaze, as the tones of a joyous voice caressed his ear, his own heart beats became fuller and faster. The conversation, if by such a dignified word it may be defined, consisted of short questions and answers ; but never had wit. good sense, or learning sounded so captivatingly to Giuliani: yet Lill was not so pleasant as usual. As she had said to Mrs. Caledon, she had heard of Giuliani from Valentine Ponsonby ; and, besides his biography, having been told that he was a man of talent, Lill wished to shine before him, and gave way to a sarcasm not natural to her. It is so easy to be satiri- cal, while it is so difficult to be witty. But beautiful eyes and sweet smiles have a way of their own of bribing men's judgment, and Lill's petulant gaiety succeeded far better than Greek roots in banishing furrows and hard Hues from Giuliani's forehead and mouth. 20 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Sir Mark's juvenile attentions and lively repartee had. during the last quarter of an hour, gradually run down into gravity and silence. His head had acquired that tremulous motion which the electric current gives to trees bolore a temjjest. The girls on the divan watched these movements and signs of emotion with much the same half-alarm, half-amusement with which they would have looked at the demonstrations of agitation in a fierce inmate of one of the cages in the Zoological Gardens. Presently the baronet asked, — " Who is that Miss Tufton is talking to?" " That is Mr. Giuliani, our Italian master," came in a breath from the two girls. " Oh, such a delightful man ; so clever, so unhappy, so — " " Italian master !" ejaculated Sir Mark. " What's he here for ?" " He is not a common master, I assure you, Sir Mark," answered Colonel Calcdon's niece. Rose; "he is only a master as Louis Philippe was when he was in exile. Mr. Giuliani is one of my uncle's dearest friends." Sir Mark made no observation in return, but walked up to his granddaughler. " The horses have been waiting an hour. Miss Tufton." Lill nodded, without iiiterrui)tiug her conversation. She was saying, — "I never thought of attending to the story of an opera, I have always supposed the plot of an opera much on a par with that of a ballet ; but this of Ernani must be interesting. Sir Mark, I should like to go and hear Ernani." Sir Mark lifted one foot, then the other, and made a noise like the ghost of stamping. " Come, come away :" and Sir Mark seized the young lady's hand, forcing her to rise; he must have been Buirniiently violent, f<(r he b\u'st her glove. She extricated herself from tlie unkind grasp, and drew off her glove, throwing it on the ground between herself and her grandfather; it was doiu' as defiantly aa though slie liail meant it as a gage of battle. She then turned to the Italian, "Mr. Giuliani, would you be so very good — I am ashamed to trouble you — would you be so good as to BEGINNINGS. 21 secure a box for us the very first evening Ernaiu is played ? Our address is 594, Champs Elys§cs ; and re- member we expect you to be of our party. (Jood-night I" and she held out her ungloved hand, flashing with jewels. Foreigners are not accustomed to shaking hands with young ladies ; Giuliani scarcely touched the beauty's dimpled fingers as he bowed long and low. She then allowed Sir Mark to trot oil" with her; and Giuliani, as he followed them down stairs, fancied he heard several menacing snarls. No one had thought Miss Crumpton of sufficient con- sequence to be warned that her party were going away. In another minute a servant came hurrying to the placid spinster ; she almost upset Giuliani, who was on the stairs. Recovering his equilibrium, he courteously offered lier his arm. " 594, Mr. Giuliani," cried Lill, from within the car- riage. 22 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. CHAPTER III. Consequences of Beginnings. It is a pretty smart walk from the Rue de Berri to the Rue de Berlin, on a wiutry uight; nevei'theless Giuliani found himself at his own door as if he had flown thither. There was elation in his every movement; he had had a sip of the waters of IjCthe ; pity it had not been a cup-full, strong enough to last through the uight. But the sight of the familiar instruments of his daily torture, the copy-books, pens and ink, would have sufficed to set the river of oblivion at defiance, without the aid of his writing-table drawer. It was open, because there was neither gold nor silver in it, to protect from thieves. Giuliani carried all he possessed of current coin in his waistcoat pocket, he had no overplus to make him fret, or keep him from sleep. Nevertheless, he slept that night as badly as any minister of fluauce, who has the wealth of a nation in his keeping. The pupils who saw Giuliani well-dressed, calm, digni- fied, had no idea that the master about whom they gos- siped, as girls will gossip, very often went without any other dinner than a piece of chocolate and a crust of bread. Not more courage had Giuliani sliown on the field of battle, than he did in Ids daily combat witii life in the pleasant capital of France. No living soul had ever heard a lament or a recpiest for help issue from those sharply-cut lips. Rent, taxes, clothing, fuel, food ; serious items these, to be met by the two or three francs thought sufficient I'or a lesson of Italian ; and what mean haggling too, as to that j)articular lialf-crown to be paid for it ! it is not only l)y jdoking behind the scenes of a thi'iitre, that j)h'asant illusions are lost. What con- temptible tricks are daily played in the behind scenes of cvery-day life, to i)erniit of a little more external show, a little more dash than our next-door neighbour! 'I'here is yet something else to be added to the list of a refugee's expenses — charity to fellow exiles, who can teach nothing, but how to live on a straw a day. CONSEQUENCES OF BEGINNINQS. 23 But vvliy? somebody will ask here, wliy slioiiUl a man, so well born, ancl so rich in intellectual gifts as Mr. Giuliani, stick in the Slough of Despond, which teaching is ? Ah ! why indeed, have so many illustrious exiles (a long line, from Dionysius of Syracuse, down to the noble-minded Manini), demanded a scanty subsistence from tuition ? For this simple reason, that they had no other choice. Be a man's attainments ever so great, they are of small avail towards his turning an honest penny out of the natural sphere of their exercise. But imagine a man, hurled by victorious force into a foreign laud, too proud to accept relief from governments or committees, with no friends, no patronage, and no dispo- sition to solicit any. What is left to that man, but to bring into the market his knowledge of mathematics, music, or languages — that which he knows best ? Thus it was that Giuliani had advertised for lessons, as a matter of necessity. He did not court it — a hard fate ! for his was the belief, right or wrong, that the humblest calling might be made honourable by the manner of dis- charging it. New and more brilliant openings had, in course of time, offered themselves to him. Newspapers and peri- odicals requested political and literary contributions, and he gave them willingly. His articles were highly praised, but they were considered too strict, too unbending, he must modify here, suppress there, soothe, dilute, flatter ; in short, substitute other people's tastes and views for his own tastes and views. A man all of one piece as he was, of course flatly refused this advice, and there was an end of his career as a man of letters. This expe- rience had served to reconcile him to his modest avoca- tion as a teacher ; he held it to be the only one consistent, under his circumstances, with independence and self-re- spect. None other, moreover, could half so well satisfy that morbid craving for obscurity, which is the supremest boon to wounded hearts. His life brightened from the day when his lucky star guided a youth named Valen- tine Ponsouby, at that period meditating a visit to Rome, to his attic. The new pupil insisted on introducing his master to his mother and sister. Not the most sickly suscepti- 24 WHO BREAKS PAYa. bility ever did or could withstand the cheering presence of the youth's mother. Despondency and fear fled before Lady Ponsonby, as darlvness flies at the approach of genial light. Her sunny smile penetrated into the dimmest corners of a benighted heart; the imps of bitterness there ensconsed had to pack up their baggage and depart. When Lady Ponsonby rang at Mr. Giuli- ani's door bell, and stood before him in the middle of his laboratory of hard work and deprivation, he felt, aa he himself expressed it, as if proved by the touch of Ithuriel's spear — with her he was his true self. The recollection of this benignant friend restored tranquillity enough to the Italian, to permit of his hand- ling his clouded cane with a steady hand, as he sallied forth on his daily rounds the morning after Colonel Caledon's dinner-party. Yes, at the worst he had a harbour of refuge : he had certainly never yet applied to Lady Ponsonby for a pecuniary loan, but he was sure she was a friend, even including her purse. However, he would only ask her when every other attempt had failed. His watch was at this present moment reposing in some of the yawning caverns of the Mont-de-Pi6t6 ; pledged in order that an old Italian of gentle birth, an exile for conscience' sake, might have a whole suit of clothes on his back when he entered on the situation of a sweeper-out of a house of business. His books indeed ! those trusty feres ! Giuliani shook his head, they would have been a useless sacrifice ; the mass of them would not have brought a suflicient sum to secure for Miss Tufton the use of an opera box for one night. There was nothing for it, but to solicit some payments of les- sons long overdue. Shrinking inwardly as though about to commit a shabby action, Giuliani made his several applications. It is very strange how delicate-minded people, when ask- ing for their money, do so with a timidity that would better suit the debtors, who l)ohlly negative Ihe request as though it were an insult. He was not the man to obtain his money, and returned to bis lodging as poor as he left it; nevertheless irrevocably resolved that he would fulfil pretty Miss Tui'ton's commission. He did specially wi.sli to please her, but more specially wish thai CONSEQUENCES OF BEOINNINOS. 25 she should remain ignorant of his difficulty in doing so : he felt as if he would rather have committed a crime, than meet her wondering smile at any explanation of his poverty. This was Saturday — Lady Ponsonby always received on Saturday evenings those of her friends who would take the trouble to go to her. He would strive to be the first arrival, so as to have his mind relieved, and be able as usual to enjoy the charm her ladyship diffused around her. 26 WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER lY. Incipit Vita Nova. Before mid-day on Monday morning Miss Tufton re- ceived an envelope, containing tie coupon of a private box at the Italian Opera for the following evening. She was as pleased as a child with a new bauble. Mr. Giu- liani was a delightful, kind man. so quiet and unobtru- sive : she did really believe that the best people were the most reserved. Miss Crumpton, to whom these remarks were made, tried to pitch her answers to the height of Lill's tone, but failed ; for the young lady exclaimed, petulantly, — " What's the matter now, Crummie ? It's very strange I can never have a pleasure, but some one damps it." " My dear, I am as delighted as you can be about the box, and I consider this Italian gentleman, I assure you, a most agreeable person ; but — " "Well, as there is a 'but' — must be a 'but' in the case, take couraye, Crummie, and out with it." " Sir Mark, wliat will he say ?" "Nothing pleasant or polite, that's certain; however, he heard me make the request, and if he had meant to interfere, he would have done so before this. Crum- mie, ' sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' Do, like a good soul, let me enjoy myself this once. I never felt happy about a play before. I am going to write a note to my slave Valentine, to ask him to bring me his copy o{ Ernani this evening. I know he has the whole opera, for he was raving aliout Emani invnlami the last time I saw him. I want to know the music beforehand." Miss Crumpton cither was, or seemed to be, deep in the mys1(M-ies of a crochet pattern. She nevertheless heard Lill's pen gliding rapidly over the paper, and the anxious look in the old lady's face deepened. " Tiicrc ; it is done ; and admire my di])lomalic talent. I have asked Master Valentine to join our party to- morrow, and to tell Mr, Ciuliani I expect him to meet U8 at the great entrance of the Salle Ventadour." 'J'hc beauty rang the bell, and desired the footman to INCIPIT VITA NOVA. 21 carry the note to its address. A minute or two after- wards Sir Mark entered the room where the hidies were, The Times in his hand, and his gold spectacles on his nose. Sir Mark must, indeed, have been excited to make his appearance in glasses, for even with his grand- danghter he strove to maintain a show of juvenility. '•Where have you sent Joseph, Miss Tufton ?" " To Mr. Ponsonby, to ask for the music of the opera of Ernani." " Why cannot yon buy it for yourself?" " You know very well that I have no money." " On the contrary, I am persuaded you have plenty, at least, you give orders as if you had." Sir Mark was examining, as he said this, the coupon of the opera box. Lill shrugged her shoulders, and walked to one of the windows. Sir Mark now turned to Miss Crumpton. " Can you oblige me by lending me forty francs ?" he asked, in his most suave voice. " Certainly, Sir Mark," said Miss Crumpton, with hurried glibness, taking out her purse; "only, — oh dear ! I am very sorry. Sir Mark, but I have not more than, let me see " counting some few pieces of silver. " Never mind, never mind," said Sir Mark, good- humouredly ; " it's that fool Joseph being out of the way, or I would not have troubled you. 1 was about to send him to the bank." Lill had turned to look at the pair : she now burst into an irrepressible, clear, ringing laugh. Miss Crump- ton looked aghast; but Sir Mark joined in his grand- daughter's merriment as he left the room. " What a wicked old man that is !" cried Lill. " How slyly he managed to find out that you bad no money. He is quite happy at the thought of having made us both thoroughly uncomfortable." " I guessed he would not pay for that box," said Miss Crumpton, disconsolately: "and now what are we to do ? for here is all I have — twenty francs, and my next payment not due for a month." " He will give me money some day or other, he must.'' said Lill. 28 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. "Mr. Giuliani ought to be paid at once, my dear girl he is quite a stranger, and — and I suspect he is poor; he is only an Italian master, you know." Lill grew very red. " Dear good old woman, you are right, as you always are. I know what I will do ; I will sell some of my bracelets and rings. I wonder what a box costs. Crum- mie, let us go at once," " And if Sir Mark comes to know what you have done ?" " He dare not kill me ; and my thoughtlessness shall not be the cause of annoyance to any one who has done me a kindness. Old pet, you shall not come with me ; yoa shall be innocent of my offence. I'll take Ruth. It is of no use arguing, cousin Crumpton ; I won't let you have a share in my punishment. Could any human being who saw us — saw me — dressed as I am, surrounded by these useless fiddle-faddles" (pointing to tables covered, with a profusion of expensive nicnacs) — could any one believe that I can never command a penny ? If alms- giving is to help one to Heaven, Sir Mark and I may make pretty sure that we shall not even get a foot in there." " My dear girl, the fault is not yours ; you have the warmest and most generous heart that ever beat." " Dear cousin !" and Lill kneeled down by the old lady's side, fixing on her, eyes so radiant with honest affection, that Miss Crumpton may be forgiven if she were always ready to roast the old world to warm Lill. " Dear cousin," went on Lill, " what virtue or grace do you think I am wanting in?" Lill sighed. Miss Crumpton had never before heard a sigh from her lovely charge. "Do not fret yourself, my dear; I'll take the whole business on myself, and borrow the money from Mrs. tlaledon." " You do not, I hope, think I am sighing about my trinkets; no indeed, cousin, 1 was sighing at a glinipso 1 caught of my own inner self, and it shows me that I do care about luxury. I revel in what the Catechism calls the pomps and vanity of life; silks, satins, flower.s, jewels, perfumes, carriages, idleness, and no contact INCIVIT VITA NOVA. 29 with common people : I enjoy even the playint^ at being rich ; for after all, bnt for' Sir Mark, I should have to be*r, or work, or starve." Lill stopped, out of breath and flushed by her confes- sion. " You exaggerate," said Miss Crumpton, placidly, and putting a pin to mark her place in her crochet pattern. " I believe we all prefer being comfortable to uncom- fortable." " Very despicable of us if we do, at the expense of our self-respect," returned Lill, quickly. "I am a mass of contradictions ; I had rather be a stock or a stone than the victim of that old man's tyrannical, capricious treat- ment. I hate myself for submitting to be decked out and paraded as I am, just as a sultan's slave might be, and yet — " "What alternative have you, my dear?" "Keep a little mercery shop, and in the evening sit in its cozy back parlour, you and I, and have such capi- tal tea and nice buttered toast ; a good novel for me, while you were counting over our daily gains. I saw something of the sort one day when we were shopping in X — , and I thought then that old woman and girl wore happier than either of us, cousin Crumpton. How- ever, I dare say it would not be better than any other reality, — and poverty !" Lill had been laughing while she spoke, but she added gravely enough, — " Poverty ! I am afraid of being poor." " Ay ! and no wonder, poor thing." "Yes, I hate money, hate that continual want of it, and reverence for it," continued Lill, n. ore to herself than to her chaperone. "Evil communication will do its bad work on me ; I don't believe I should feel the same horror and disquiet now, which I felt two years ago, when, while I was reading Shakspeare, my grand- father's voice, gloating over his percents, came mingling with what I read." Lill's bitter words were the mere expression of the feeling of the moment, a cry of sudden pain. She wiped away some stray tears unobserved by the industrious Miss Crumpton. 3* 30 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " Now, away with all gloom," she exclaimed. ' I shall be off' to get money to pay this good-natured Mr Giuliani, and to-morrow night I will enjoy myself if I never do so again." Before dinner Ijill handed to jNIiss Crurapton five hun dred francs. " Gracious me, my dear !" cried the old lady in alarm, ' that is far more than necessary for an opera box. What have you sold ?" " Oh, a heap of things I was tired of. If it is too much for the box, we will give what remains to some poor person." " Lill, do promise to be more prudent ; you must in deed." " Thank you, cousin, for trying to be authoritative, but I cannot promise, for I should forget just at the critical moment. One good comes of this evil. As long as I have a trinket I can foil Sir Mark's meanness." "It makes me tremble to Ihink what would be the consequence if Sir Mark found out this business." " He made his poor wife tremble ; and I daresay my poor father and mother also ; I do not know whether he could make me tremble ; I can only fancy being alarmed at the auger of a person I loved. AVe shall see." Lill was in her wildest spirits that evening. Valentine Ponsonby brought her the music of Eruani ; she under- took to sing all the female parts, forcing Valentine, who had very little voice, and was timid to excess before Sir Mark, to sing Ernani's and Silva's songs. Sir Mark, morose and despotic as was his normal state in his do- mestic circle, was for a while charmed out of himself by Lfll's singing. The voice could not be spoiknl by the . lively caricature of her manner. She travestied the tragical situations as gracefully as wildly; it was the "novice laughing at, ami playing with deadly tools. To Lill's and Mi.'^s Crumpton's astonishment, Sir Mark's good humou- was unal)at('d the next day. lie even advised some change in the flowers in his grand- daughter's hair, which, as his taste was universally ac- knowledged to b(> excpiisite as to womaji's dress, the young liidy acceded to. " Little demon!" he ejaculated, as he himself handed INCIPIT VITA NOVA. 61 her inlo the carriafje. " How bravely she bears herself! It's uot much wonder she fools pleasures out of men." It was the hour when artisans and workmen were leaving work : many of them were attracted to stand still and watch the ladies get into the smart equipage. Hardworking, toil-stained men they were ; but most of them intelligent critics as to ladies and their carriages. There was a harmony between Lill's youth, lovelinesg and attire which pleased these spectators; but Miss Crumpton, unshapely and grey-haired, in a cap with bright roses, had an undue share of sneers. As Lill leaned back on the soft cushions, wrapped in cashmere, she said, — " How astonished that bricklaj'er, who stared at us so insolently, would be if I explained my situation to him ; told him, in fact, that I am poorer than he is, for I could not gain my daily bread !" " You should not look at these sort of people, Lill, it is imprudent — dangerous ; these French are a cruel race." Lill did not continue the subject ; she dreaded tears and quotations from the book published by the Valet Clery, describing the sufferings of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, and which was one of the few books Miss Crumpton had read from beginning to end. Never- theless, Lill could not banish from her thoughts the ironical expression of those workmen's faces ; it had ruffled her composure, and, at the same time, astonished her. She had hitherto felt so secure of being only an object of respect and wonder to the poor. She now re- ceived one of the many accidental impressions which get up a battle with one another every now and then in our minds, and which, while their contrary influences render us riddles to ourselves, conduct us to our destiny. But the Tufton carriage has entered the line of other equipages waiting to set down fair opera-goers, and Liil comes back to her' own special world again. While yet a long way off, Giuliani perceived Lill, and that not a passer-by but turned to gaze again at the beautiful English girl. He could see that she was so busily reconnoitring for some one, as to be quite un- conscious of the notice she attracted. A glow of 32 WHO BREAKS PAYS. pleasure warmed his heart when the sndden lightini';' up of her eyes, as her glance fell on him, showed it was him- self she had been seeking. How was Giuliani, anj^ more than the bricklayer, to guess that this brilliant creature, surrounded by all the appurtenances of wealth, was so unaccustomed to any kindly attention to her wishes, as to have magnified a common act of courtesy into one of real kindness ? How was he to imagine that this sylph, in celestial blue silk, had been as troubled as himself to find the necessary Mumber of francs to pay for the opera box ; tliat the only difference between their cases was, that she had trinkets to pawn, and no Lady Ponsonby to assist her. No one comprehends the other's situation in this world. Tt was a gala evening at the Italian : every box was full; every stall occupied — the pit crammed. Many who could not find seats were lounging in the corridors and alleys. The curtain was still down, and every man in pit or stall was standing with his back to the stage, his double lorgnon levelled at the loges d^converies, wonder- ing from whence had so suddenly congregated such a distracting splendour of eyes, lips, hair, teeth, as he saw there. It seemed as if every young and beautiful woman in Paris had agreed on a rendezvous to dispute the ])alm of beauty. Not one of the lovely creatures there feared the Hood of light falling on her from the great and little lustres; vivid lightning glances flashed round; cheeks Hushed, and lips smiled provokingly back to tlie burning gaze directed to them. The box into which Giuliani — resisting the longing to oiTer Miss Tufton his arm — led the chaperone. was one l)ehind the lufjes ddcouvertes, really a private box in its literal sense, few glances, in c()mj)arison, jienetratiiig within. Perhaps for an instant the English beauty felt disappointed, as she leaned forward iwm, smelt the perfume of the rare flowers she carried in her hand. Giuliani slept little that night and dreamed a great deal. When he got up the next morning he ought to have said to himself: " This day I begin a new life." On the contrary, he resolved more stronuonsly than ever not to deviate for the future by a hair's breadth, froni his monotonous course of life ; solitude, or rather retirement, was his safeguard. His judgment told him he had been right to avoid society — it had not one temptation, but a legion, for men in his position ; he had need of all his self-possession to gain his livelihood. Hope or desire of cUauge would not do for him. 36 WHO BREAKS — PATS CHAPTER V. Plan of Attack on the Hermit of the Rue de Berlin. "Now tell me something' about Mr. Cinliani. Colonel Calcdou. Who is jSlr. Giuliani?" questioned Miss Tuf ton some two or three days after the evening at the opera. '• To answer you categorically, Miss Tufton, he is the only son of my late good friend the Cavalicrc Giuliani, of the counts of that name. When his uncle dies this Giulio Giuliani will have a right to both title and estates. But unless matters change considerably in Italy, I doubt much that his situation would be bettered by the count's death." " Why does his uncle allow him to be an Italian master ?" " Because he is too egotistically timid to risk an iota of his own safety or tranquillity in behalf of any living crea- ture. Since the Cavalicre's death I know that there has been no communication between the uncle and the proscribed nephew; for even Giuliani's request foi- some account of his father's property was left unanswered. To the demand, however, for an explanation made by a notary, the reply was clear enough — that the cavaliere had spent all he had on his i'oolish schemes during his lifetime, and that the count did not intend to continue to his nephew the liberality he had shown to his brother. There was no alternative. Miss 'J'ufton, but beggary or work. Poor fellow ! I remember him a little lad, with an arm and hand scarcely larger than yours, fighting by his father's-side, always with eyes on the watch, as if ho would take all the shots and bayonet thrusts to him- BClf." " How hard he looks now, as if lie had never known what it was to be a child !" observed Lill, the brightness of lier face dimmed l)y the images called up by tho Colonel's story. "AVell, I allow he has a stiCF character, l)ut it is o( good nuitcrial." "Miss Tufton," said Mrs. Caledon, "why don't you THE HERMIT OF THE RUB DE BERLIN. 31 take some lessons from him ? if you set the fashion, you might make his fortune." " Oh, dear Mrs. Caledon, I have not the least turn for learning lessons." "Uut perhaps you have for doing a kind action ; and I am sure you might be of real beuetit to Giuliani. He is the sort of person to starve witli dignity." "How can you put such horrible ideas into one's head ? A gentleman starving in our very sight !" ex- claimed Lill impetuously. She had suddenly remem- bered that to satisfy her whim she had made Giuliani pay for an opera ticket, and it gave her a spasm of re- morse, the cause of which had it been known to her listeners, would have made her vehemence natural. Lilt's manner was accused generally, and not unjustly so, of levity ; it was the mask both of the diffidence and the strong feelings she was too proud to show. Masters and governesses had made her accomplished ; Nature had gifted her with quick intelligence ; but her educa- tion had left her character thoroughly undisciplined. She acted first and thought afterwards ; sometimes mani- festing the simplicity and candour of a child, at other moments displaying a perspicacity that completely effaced the favourable impression made by her artlessness, the which forthwith received condemnation, as assumed. The perpetual contrasts of her moods and manners had earned for her much of the severity with which she was judged. It was the penalty she paid for keeping her judges in suspense as to what she was. Her best friends declared, " She must always be in one scrape or another." Lill herself used to say, " Do what I will, people will always see some evil in it. I wish I had a glass window to my heart, that my motives might be seen ; but no, it doesn't matter after all." Such a speech as this would of course be made after she had been wounded to the quick by some misconstruction of her action or her meaning. Lill had never had a maternal wing to shelter hci from the inclemencies of a world she fancied she knew thoroughly at eighteen, while, poor child, she scarcely ever got a glimpse of reality for the tremulous, translu- cent light of imagination, through which she viewed all 4 38 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. thinsrs. Miss Crumpton, Imng so close to Lill, had iudeed acquired an idea, though a ''dry misty one, that a romancer was to be dreaded in her, whom others esteemed only to be a pretty worldling. Lill was really alarmingly impressible, both as to moral and ])hysical influences. What she was in the atmosphere of Sir Mark, would be the opposite to what she would be in that of Lady Ponsonby, or any one like her ladyship. It seemed to most of those who knew her that she was either obsti- nate or yielding, gay or violent, from mere caprice. This supposition it was which brought her the chilling rebuffs she met, when after some terrible outbreak or rebellion she sought to be forgiven by the most passion- ate repentance. Her nurse was one of the few who be- lieved in Lill's goodness, though even she expressed her opinion by the proverb, " Miss Tufton is one that will either make a spoon or spoil a horn." This startlish, high-blooded, generous young mortal, quite unable to guide herself along the highways of life, in great want of snaffle and curb, was about to throw herself violently into Mr. Giuliani's existence, and to make a terrible and irreparable confusion there. She set about it in this way — as usual, doing wrong, under the conviction she was doing something vastly right. On the same day on which she had had the foregoing conversation with Colonel and Mrs. Caledon al)()ut Mr. Giuliani, when left iite-d-tete after dinner with Miss Crumi)ton, she began thus, — " Crummie, I have a plan in my head; now do please put away your crochet, and listen to me." "Just wait till I am at the end of my row, my dear: if I lose my place, I shall never find it again." After five minutes Miss Cruni])ton obediently laid aside lier work, and settled herself as an auditor. "First of all," said Lill, "remember you are to make no objections. 1 have thought over everything, and 1 am (jiiile determined Crummie." " Very well, my love." " I am going to have lessons in Italian of Mr. Giuli- ani," said Lill, abruptly, to hide, perhaps, her expecta- tion of opposition. " Have you spoken on the subject to Sir Mark ?" THE HERMIT OF THE RUE DE BERLIN. 39 "No, Crummie, and I am not going to spoak to him; ■ — there — there, do not interrupt me; I have all my phxns traced out in my head. How much is there left of the money I gave you the other day ?" " Every franc, except what I paid for our opera tickets." " Then every franc shall go for lessons in Italian. It is the only way I have of making up to Mr. Giuliani for my stupid thoughtlessness. He is a gentleman, as well born as we are, though he is poor enough to be obliged to teach. Mrs. Caledon says he only gets three francs a lesson, and 1 made him spend the price of half-a-dozen lessons for my amusement — I am so heedless. Crum. mie, instead of being in danger of starvation here, he might be living like a nobleman in Italy, if he would re- nounce his political principles." ." Very sad indeed, Lill !" "Very glorious, you mean, cousin Crumpton. Are you not always raving and tearing your hair about the sublimity of the French emigrants, Who lived by dress- ing hair and salads ?" " For the love of their own legitimate king, my dear : it was the sacrifice made in behalf of their affection for the Bourbons, that I so admire. I hate republicans ; and, as far as I can understand, that is what these Italian refugees are. I do know something about them, my dear." " No, you dou't, Crummie. The Italians are not all of them republicans ; but they all want to get rid of those horrid Austrians. Mrs. Caledon explained the matter to me ; and if the French were in England, I suppose you would not consider it a crime if we tried to turn them out ; however, that has nothing to do with my present plan. I have never done any good to any one in my life, and now I am going to try to do some. I shall have lessons from Mr. Giuliani." The young beauty spoke authoritatively, but she looked pleadingly at her chaperone. " I can't think how you are to manage with Sir Mark," said Miss Crumpton, yielding to her imperative, loving and lovely darling. "But, Crummie, suppose he never knows of it till too 40 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. late. 1 mean to wait till he goes to England to receivo bis dear dividends : he will go directly after New Year's day, and then I'll begin my lessons. I dare say we shall have a fight when he comes back ; but he won't be able to prevent what's done. I shall pay in advance, you know ; so Mr. Giuliani will benefit, even if the lessons are stopped. There now, Crummie, you see it's all nicely arranged, so don't look dismayed. If I have never minded Sir Mark's rage when I was wrong, it's not likely I shall do so when I am sure I am right." DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS. 41 CHAPTER YI. Different Impressions, A WEEK before Christmas the English in Paris got up a bazaar for the benefit of their poor countrymen. Lady Ponsouby, Giuliani's friend, had been persuaded to allow her name to be put down among the patronesses, of whom Mrs. Caledon was also one. Miss Tufton had consented to have a stall with Miss Crumpton for chaperone, but no earthly power could have induced Alicia, Lady Pon- sonby's only daughter, to undertake any similar office. At this bazaar took place what Valentine had so long striven to accomplish, that is, the introduction of his goddess to his mother and sister. Lady Ponsonby was difficult of access to the rich, the fashionable, and the gay; the habits of the children of fortune jarred with hers, and having been once in her life nearly mentally suffocated by the despotism of cus- tom, she had ever afterwards retained a nervous dread of slipping again under such a yoke. What she had hitherto heard of Sir Mark, had made her strenuously avoid complying with Valentine's wish, that she should call on Miss Tufton. But within the last week or two, both she and Alicia had become more and more curious to see Sir Mark's granddaughter. " That is Miss Tufton, I suppose," said Lady Pon- sonby to Valentine, as they were making the tour of the )>azaar ; " she reminds me of a rosebud sparkling with dew. I never saw anything more fresh and fair." Lill certainly had not overheard these words of ad- miration, but as her eyes met those of Lady Ponsonby, she smiled. The old lady and the young one were im- mediately drawn towards each other ; any formal introduction was scarcely needed between them. Valen- tine was in the seventh heaven of contentment. But the same magnet that forcibly attracts one object fails with another. Alicia examined Lill with curiosity — a curiosity that had something of disquiet in it. She received a deep and lasting impression of Lill's beauty and grace ; she even exaggerated both to herself; her sensations 4* 42 'Wno BREAKS — PAYS. were profounder than the occasion seemed to warrant, while Lill's observations as to her, were merely that she was not half so agreeable-looking as Lady Ponsunhy. By some unaccountable association of ideas, as Alicia looked at Lill, these lines of Coleridge sprang out oi her memory, — " Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold, Her flesh made the still air coid." And yet Lill might have been taken for the very im- personation of glee ; it would have been considered an absurdity had Alicia mentioned to any one the lines the sight of the beauty had called to her recollection, and which kept up a ding-dong in her ear. " Spirit of youth and delijiht," Miss Tufton was deemed by every body else present, one whose mere presence would chase away any thought of the tragedies of life. After this, visits were exchanged between the Pon- Bonliys and Tuftons, and a general mvitation given to the latter for Lady Ponsonby's Saturday evenings. "A poor set your new friends, Miss Tufton." said Sir Mark, after a reference to his baronetage ; "that old ruin, the Priory, at Bloonificld. you recollect, in the next jtarish to ours, belongs to the young baronet. It's to be hojjcd he'll bring back some rupees with him from India. I wonder why the old lady has fixed herself in Paris? The daughter is a dumpy — dresses abominably, without any style ; l)ut she has a good line of face, and a pair of uncommon fine dark eyes of her own. Dark eyes. Miss Tufton, I must confess 1 prefer to blue ones. 1 think J shall cultivate Miss Ponsonby's acquaintance." AVhencver Sir Mark assumed the airs of a conquering hero, he invariably provoked a retdrt from Lill. " I think it would answer capitally," said she, laughing, " Wliat do you mean by that?" asked Sir Mark, after a second of silence. "Tiiat .Miss Ponsonby is more of an ago to suit you than your last flirt, Hose Caledon. I am sure your taking a fancy to some one else would be an immense relief to poor liose. Sir Mark." Sir Mark, who had been lolling at full length on a sofa, on hearing this, sat bolt uj)right. DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS. 43 "Pray, Miss Crunipton," he said, "why do you allow Miss 'I'uftou to be so impertinent '!" " Lill, my dear," said the startled chaperone, " you Bhould remember that you are talking- to your grandpapa." The baronet glared at the fanll-hnder'a mal d ijrupos invocatiou of his title to veneration. " I should remember Sir Mark was my grandfather, ma'am, if he did not hhnself set me the example of for- getting that he is such." " Take care what you are about, Miss Tufton ; one day or another you may rue this conduct. When you come to ask me some favour, I may show you that I have a good memory." When Sir Mark had left them alone, Miss Crumpton began to remonstrate with Lill. " After all, my dear girl, he has brought you up, given you a fine education, and really is generous enough in important things." " I acknowledge I am wrong to speak to him as I do ; I know I ought to hold my tongue ; but the temptation is too strong. You never witnessed as I did the way he treated my dear grandmamma. lie almost made her an idiot, Crummie. It was his pleasure to torment her, she could not eat or drink or speak in peace ; and one day I saw — yes, I saw him beat the poor feeble creature. We were out in one of the lanes near home, and she stayed behind to pick some blackberries ; he came back and struck her ; he thought there was no one to see him, but a young man on horseback suddenly came up, and laying his whip about Sir Mark's shoulders, shouted out, 'What are you hitting that woman for?' Oh, how glad I was! I ran up and kissed the young gentleman's hand, and told him I would love him all the days of my life, and so I do and will. Besides, I am asliamed of Sir Mark, I am ; when Rose and other girls tell me how he speaks to them. The very sight of him makes me feel wicked." Poor Miss Crumpton was not the one to guide such as Lill into the right road to influence such a man as Sir Mark. She tuas all for compromising a7id temporising. " I believe I should behave better to Sir Mark," had Lill often said, " if it were not my interest to do so." Whether in cousequenco of his granddaughtcr'a 44 WHO BREAKS — PATS. recomm'3ndation of Miss Ponsonby, or from some other ca])rice, Sir Mark did not accompany Miss Crumptou and Lill to Lady Pousonby's on the following Saturday. Lill had not the most distant conception of such a per- son as Lady Ponsonby ; had no knowledge of the reality of politeness and i-espect, between members of the same family, such as existed among the Ponsonby's. She had read uf such people in novels, and liked to read of them, but she did not believe that such agreeable pictures could be drawn from real life. She naively supposed that every one was uncomfortable at home. Lady Ponsonby at her receptions always sat in a fauteuil on that side of the fire-place which allowed her to see her guests enter. She wore a cnp with a broad ribbon brought into a bow in front, masses of grey hair curled over her forehead ; a frilled kerchief of some very transparent material, crossing over the chest d la Marie Antoinette, softened the brilliant lights of her ladyship's purple satin dress. In spite of her real sim- plicity of tastes and character. Lady Ponsonby liked elegance, and was elegant, but she had also the rare knack of dressing in accordance with her age — though with her delicate features and singularly fresh complexion, combined with her spirited voice, retaining many of its youthful tones, and her nuxnner, which had all the vivacity of twenty. Lady Ponsonby rather represented age than proved it's possession. Yet she remembered seeing the first Napoleon as consul: "Yes, indeed, 1 do," she anxiously affirmed to any one who appeared to doubt the fact, for Lady Ponsonby was jirond of looking so young, as of an attestation of a well-spent life, and of an easy conscience. "The first consul was walking in the Llysfee Bourl)on, and T recollect being struck by his shabby coat, with ravelled culls: my lirst lesson not to vahic people by their fine clothes," added she. It was apparent that the lesson had not been forgotten, for most of the coats in her salon were rather thread- bare, and the ladies' dresses of less freshness than their owners might have desired. It was often indeed said lliat liady Ponsonby most evidently sent out into the highways and byways for lier guests. When the uccusation came to her cars, she had DIFFERENT IMPRESSIONS. 45 laughed and said, " What would you have ? I caniiot interest myself for the fortunate, they do not require anything of me, and I forget them." It was under the influence of such a character tliat Alicia had been brought up; her attachment to her mother was a passion. Alicia's afiections were less diffuse than those of Lady Ponsonby ; she was moi-e ex- clusive in everything ; less of an optimist ; nevertheless Alicia had enthusiasms, though they were narrow and one-sided. Iler charity and toleration shone almost entirely upon the classes beneath her. She believed sincerely in the poor being nearer to God than the rich ; and held to it, that large possessions we/e a robbery. 46 vraO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER VII. Gioberti. Altogether the coup d'ocil of Lady Ponsonby's drawing-room rather startled our beauty ; it was quite different from anything in the way of a party she had ever before seen ; and, to say the truth, she felt herself and her dress out of place. Miss Crumpton, humble and timid elsewhere, had here a scared curiosity, such as she might have experienced if precipitated into a menagerie. A great sound of conversation filled the salon ; not at all the hum of agreeable nothings, but the decided intonations of a discussion or debate of interest. Lill slipped into a seat close by Lady Ponsonby, while Miss Crumpton was accommodated with an arm-chair opposite to the ladj' of the house. Mr. Giuliani was standing a little to one side of Lady Ponsonby, in conversation with, or rather listening to, a tall hirgc-made man. Hitherto Lill had only seen the Italian with strangers; she did not know what to make of him as ho now appeared. The character of a tragedy hero in which she had clothed him, did not at all har- monize with his present cheerful, eager face, or his frank manner. She turned to observe his interlocutor, to seek in him for the cause of this change. This extremely tall gentleman's carriage was erect and commanding; his fair complexion, his hair of a light brown, soft and waving, parted on one side, and hanging round his neck, gave something of freshness to his ajijiearance, like that of a boy just washed and comi)e(l ; yet the fair locks flowed round a broad, mas- sive furehvad, singularly ex])ressive of a powerful in- tellect. Lill also remarked, in the close scrutiny she bestowed on him, that his hands were thrust into a pair of new white kid gloves, gaping open, instead of l)eing neatly Imttonod at the wrist, betokening haste and carelessness in the minuti;e of the toilet. His marked accent proved him to be an Italian, Imt novertJK'Iess his French phrases, delivered in a sonorous, wcU-cadeuced voice, (lowed witli an abundance, a rich GIOBERTI. 4'i ness, a fertility of thonght and expression, which sng- where her attention was tixed, whispered to her that " that was the great Giobcrti." " I never heard of him before," said Lill ; " why is he great ?" " Do not let my sister hear you confess your ignorance." said Valentine. " Gioberti, you know, is a Piedmontese exile, and a great philosopher. He has written im- mensely on no end of subjects, among others a book on the Beautiful. One need not be one of the seven sages to understand something about that," added the youth incidentally, with an expressive glance at the young lady. Lill, who was amused at the strange company, forgot to check Valentine as she usually did when he ventured on being complimentary. " His most interesting writings, however, are about the best course to pursue in order to procure the independence of Italy." " Ah ! indeed," exclaimed Lill. " But we must listen to Gioberti." Lill had lost the beginning of the great Italian's speech; he was now saying: "Away with political sects and partial revolts. They retard, instead of hastening, our country's resurrection. I have shown, nay, demon- strated beyond refutation, as clearly as a mathematical proposition, that in the Italian States, the interests of princes and people are identical. Let them unite, and Italy will be at once free, strong and independent. The princes need not fear their subjects, but they must meet, satisfy, and guide the aspirations of the populations ; then, governors and governed will form one living wall, impenetrable to all foreign foes, each State ranged round our crowning jewel — Rome." Alicia, who was standing by Gioberti, turned impa- tiently towards Giuliani, as if anxious he should speak. " Gioberti, you have forgotten to take into your con- sideration, Rome's master, the Emperor of Austria." "No, no, caro Giul'o, the star of Austria already wanes." 48 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " And do you suppose," rejoined Giuliani, " that our relentless foe docs not understand as well as you do, that the course you point out, if effected, would be her death-blow ? Is it to be imagined that Austria, who has so often clutched at what she would fain tear from the Papal States, and when baulked of actual territory, has taken or made pretexts for her repeated military occu- pations of the liomagnas, has held the Papal See as her humble useful vassal, — is it to be imagined, I say," continued Giuliani, with increasing energy, "that the power which sees in the brutifying of her own subjects, its sole chance of safety, will not set on foot armies, diplomacy, intrigues of every description, to counteract the working of your noble pacific plan, and checkmate you at lastY' " The power of federated Italy, strong in its internal union, may defy the world," replied Gioberti, rolling over the objection. Giuliani smiled, and remained Bilent ; he knew that the ardent philosopher was so per- tinacious and vehement in his convictions, as not only to over rule, but not to hear an opposing argument, " Now, Monsieur Gioberti," said Alicia, " tell me one thing." The celebrated author turned upon her a kindly, conr- teous, and inquiring look. " You talk of the union of princes with their subjects; do you think that Charles Albert, with his deplorable antecedents, could ever bring his mind to give freedom to his people?" "I do hope it," replied Gioberti, "In spite of his crooked ways, and of many a dark shade on his past, tliere runs throiigh his character a noble chord, which does vibrate strongly at times. Has not Goetlie written, ' If you would improve men, address them rather as if already such as you wish them to become, than such ao you see they actually are.' This thought dictated many passages in my works ])ointed at ('liarles Allicrt. 'J'he same idea it was, which induced me formerly, thongh with less hoi)e of success, to make honourable montiou of the Jesuits, ('ould we liave won their assistance it Would have greatly helped us." "The Jesuits 1" ciclaimed Giuliani; "surely the ' GIOBERTl. 49 tlwughts of enlisting them in our cause must have occurred when you were composiug your worlv on tlie supernatural." The author smiled an abstracted smile at this sally ; and then, gathering up the reins of his thoughts, set off at an easy pace along the track into which he had been just turned. "It is a singular thing," he said, "how few of even the most intelligent men are disposed to consider one simple fact, from which, however, flow endless logical and practical deductions, and this is, that we cannot make of the world a tabula rasa, upon which to begin our operations. Let us first choose a righteous cause, and then hold steadfastly to it ; we can only take for the combat such weapons as are within our reach ; if these break in our liands, why then we must look out for others. In this lies the grea't art of statesmanship. "Now the Jesuits are a powerful body, and in their day have done some good service in the world. No set of men have more extended ramifications. Their aid ■would have been profitable; though truly, I did not much flatter myself I should achieve this object; still, it was not a chance to throw away. But if I have given some praise to the Jesuits as they once were, I am at present busy on a work showing them as they now are. Even you, my dear Giulio, will be satisfied with my GtiNuild Moderno." Turning to Alicia, whose question he again took up, he added : — "With respect to Charles Albert, I am much more sanguine. I know the man well — know him personally ; and, in spite of his powers of dissimulation, in which none exceed him, and of his simulation, a still rarer talent, in which he also excels, — I repeat, that there are in his soul redeeming aspirations, and in the inner- most recesses of his heart burns an undying hatred of Austria. I should not wonder any day to sec hhn draw his sword in chivalrous devotion to Italy's cause." 60 WHO BREAKS — ^-ATa CHAPTER YIII. "The Arrow and the Song.' Lady Ponsonbt, who had been amused by the puzzled face of her young guest, now diverted Lill's attention from the political trio, by observing, — " I am afraid this is very dull work for you, Miss Tuf. ton" " Harder work, Lady Ponsonby, than I generally find in society: usually it is talk, talk, talk, for talk's sake, is it not? at least to girls. I think I never before re ceivod so many new ideas at one time." " Even that is tiring," said Lady Ponsonby. " I shall stop the discussion by asking Mdlle. Arseuieff for some music. She is a fine performer, and a strangely inde- pendent girl. She had the courage to leave her family in Moscow, and to come alone to Paris, to commence the career of a concert player." " I begin to think," said Lill, " that every one here has an i!jtercsting story attached to them." liady Ponsonby smiled. " Do you imagine that to be a peculiarity attached only to some people ? But my Russian's story is very simple ; I will tell it to you some day." Lill followed Lady Ponsonby across the room to where the Russian girl was seated, bhio-oycd, l»road- faced, and broad-shouldered, as if physically prepared to buffet through the world. She had also a gay, unceremonious manner, too much so, to be pleasant to Miss Tufton. Mdlie Arsenieff wauld play very Avillingly: what should it be ? She would ask re hon cher excellent Gi'w- h'nvi, and away went the Russian to where the two Italians wore staudiug. Lill involunliirily watched fiiuliaui's face and manner when Mdlle Arscniclf addressed him in her free and easy style. There was not the least show of backward- ness in his reply, no reserve. " 1 thought he had been a man of more refiuenuMit llian to be pleased, as he looks to be, with so coarse a person." "the akrow A\n the rokg." 51 diiiliani, al'tcr handiuq' Mdlle. ArsenieH" to the piano, placed liimsolf behind Miss Tui'ton's chair, saying, in a low voice ; "Tlie ])erformor is a pupil of Chopin's. She is an ad- mirable pianist, thoug-h no one can ever give the same cHect to Chopin's music that he does himself." Tlie beauty of the performance was marred, however, by the jerking of a chair, which always seemed to occur in the softest passages. "We must bear it jDliilosophically," said Giuliani, re- marking Lill's annoyance. " The noise proceeds from INIdme. de Rochcpont de Rivifere's chair ; and she is a lady, as her name may inform you, of the French aris- tocracy, connected besides, with some of the first families of England." " She looks disagreeable enough for anything." said Tjill ; " I have been pitying my cousin Crumpton for having to sit near so forbidding a looking person. I cannot fancy her being one of Lady Ponsonby's friends." " She was a playfellow of Lady Ponsonby's, and Lady Ponsonby forgives her now for being so disagreeable, because, in spite of her pretensions, Mdmo. de Rochepout de Rivibre is really very poor and neglected." " 1 have taken a great liking to Lady Ponsonby," re- plied Lill. " I think I never saw before such a pleasant, pretty old lady; and when old ladies are nice, they are V'jry deligl'.tful." Giuliani smiled on the speaker. "Are you a believer in mesmerism?" asked Lill, a moment after. " In magnetic sleep ? yes," he replied. " Ah I but I mean in the tacit power one person hag over another." As he did not answer immediately, she went on : " I assure you, when I am with some people. I feel nonsensical and naughty; with Lady Ponsonby, I think I might grow reasonable and tolerably good." Giuliani still paused. He knew well enough that in the best kind of women there is much of the ingenuous- ness of the child. But was not Miss Tufton rather of the stuff" of which w^omcn of the world are made ? It was, however, diOicult to be a severe judge of the pretty bright creature addressing him in so cordial u uuinner 52 WHO BREAKS — PATS. Looking at her, he literally spoke his thoughts, when he said, — • " You give me the impression, notwithstanding youi confession, of being a child of light." " Now, Mr. Giuliani, I don't believe that you are sin- cere in saving so." " Indeed ! and why not ?" " First, because you had such an emjihatic way of ex- plaining lohy Lady Ponsonby asked madamc with the double 'd,' which meant, don't imagine it's on account of her birth or her title, as would be tlie case with Miss Tufton ; and secondly, because 1 read in your face when I avowed howim]iressible I was — that you were inclined to say. Exactly so — most women have no cliaracters at all." Giuliani this time laughed out, and Lill joined in merrily. The unexplainiMl laughter of two persons is very apt to produce a sudden, uneasy quietness in a party. This was the case just now. Every eye in the room fixed itself on Lill and Giuliani; even Lady Ponsonby, who had been talking to the Russian girl, turned round to see what had ]ia|)pened. "Do you play or sing. Miss Tufton?" asked her lady- ship, breaking the silence. Lill's face put on the little air of wonderment which that of Sontag or Grisi might have worn at a similar question. How strange that she, whose song had been a matter of state, wherever she went, should have such an iufjuiry put to her I With a little bridling of her slender neck, she answered "yes," that slie ])layed and sang. "Then you will be so good, perhaps, as to favour us," said Lady Ponsonby, laying her hand caressingly on Lill's shoulder. Accustomed to singing to strangers, the young lady walked without further ])ressing to the piano. The very first lou<'h of her lingers showed familiarity with the in- strument. 8he ])layc(l the symphony of a well-known Italian air, ])aused, and said with graceful bashfulness, " I (hurt think I Inive (Miurage to venture on Italian iniisi(- lieforo so many Italians. May i sing au English ballad ?" THE 53 " On the contrary, pray do," said Lady Ponsonby ; ''it is so long since I have heard an English song — not since my dear boy, Fred, left nie. Oh, what a voice his was !" sighed the mother. "THE ARROW AND THE SONG. "I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not whore ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight " I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I km-w not whore ; For who has sight so keen and strong. That it can follow the flight of a song ? "LoD<;, lonfi; afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unhroke," And the ?ong, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend." Longfellow. Lill had a true, beautiful voice— one of those voices which unconsciously brings tears of ecstasy to every eye, and swells the poet's heart with a sense of infinite beauty, as he traces in its modulations his own unspeak- able feelings. In this way did the tones of Lill's voice strike on Giuliani's soul, making its every chord vibrate. They bore him up to heaven, then brought him back to earth. He was under the same spell that nuikes the foot-sore, hungry soldier forget pain and fatigue, and welcome danger. Lady Ponsonby, who had an organization almost as keenly alive to music as her Italian friend's, hung en- tranced upon Lill's every note. She gave a deep sigh when the last sound died away, and said, with glittering eyes,— " You have touched a spring I believed had gone dry. You are a gifted creature, my dear child ; excuse me, I can't resist calling you so." " I am so glad you are pleased : pray call me anything you like, except Miss Tufton. My name is Lilian, but I am called Lill, and sometimes Espifegle." The little triumph had been complete. Gioberti had been silent, and Mdme. do Rochcpont de Eivi6re had kept her chair and footstool quiet. . 5* 54 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Alicia sat down by Miss Crurapton, and spoke witli admiration of Miss Tiifton's voice, and licr stylo of slw^ ing. Alicia's nature had not hecu stirred as had been that of her mother and Giuliani. Her ear might be duller, or there might be some counteracting charm to Lill's attraction M-hich sealed up the doors of her soul to harmony. Miss Crumpton thawed under Alicia's praise of Lill, and said, — " She is so clever, does everything so well, reads con- stantly; indeed, it is a sad pity she has not a better companion than I am. I wonder she has patience with nie." 'J'his humility roused Alicia's generosity. She had hitherto held aloof from the elderly English woman, sup- posing her to be one of the proud of this earth, who take to themselves the credit of being the salt thereof. But now, penetrating at once Miss Crumpton's nature, she saw in her one born to live in another— to have no great joys or miseries of her own, but to rejoice or lament with those of the object of her worship. Preju- diced, probably, and narrow-minded, not likely to ])rove a wise friend, but most surely a warm and devoti'd ad- herent, whatever backwardness Alicia might feel tcnvards Lill herself, she had none in encouraging Miss Crumjiton to converse about her, and she succeeded in making the chaperone better satistied with her hostesses and the company assembled, than she had been before. Lill and Miss Crumpton were the first to leave. Gioberti did Lill the honour to hand her downstairs to the carriage. The young lady had no idea how proud she ought to have been at having induced the great Italian to cease his eloquence to l)ecome her cavalier. Once the English strangers gone, there ensued a tor- rent of questions about thera. Lill naturally was the one on whom the conversation ])riiicipaliy ran. Evea under Lady Punsonl)y'8 roof jx'ople would i)ull one another to pieces, and, as the English girl was indubita- bly lovely, graceful, and accom})lislied, the only weak ])(iint. her dress, was where the assiuUt was made. " Ignorance of French hai)its." ])lea(l('d I>ady INm- Bonby. " in England, my dear friends, it is pretty nnich " THE ARROW AND THE SONG." 55 the custom for young ladies to wear low dresses and short sleeves every day at dinner. Abuse the customs of a country if you like, but spare individuals." "Always indulgent, dear lady!" exclaimed Mdlle. Arsenieff, in her bold clear voice ; then sinking it to a whisper, she said to Alicia, " It appears to me that the ice of our llippolytus is melting under the sunny glances of this daughter of Albion." " You see even the philosopher par excellence was charmed out of himself by her beauty and her singing," returned Alicia. " Ilm ! hm !" thought the Russian, " we have a brave heart of our own, but we are less indifferent than we would appear." How strange it is that women so often strive to wound, in order to track out a secret of the heart; and that, too, when it iu no way concerns themselves. 56 VTHO BREAKS — FATS. CHAPTER IX. Uncommon Domestic Scenes. LiLL, when she went home, wondered whj the impres- sion left by the evening was unsatisfactory, .vhy she felt as though she had met with a disap])ointment. She needed not to have wondered long, had she chosen to take the trouble to look a little closely at the image the most prominent in her mind. For Lill, mankind was divided into two species — • sheep and goats — into the good and bad. She could suppose no faults in those she liked, no virtues in those she disliked. Hitherto she had decided at first sight into which category to j)lace her acquaintances. The Italian master was the first person she had seen who left her undetermined where to put him. His appearance did not prejudice her in his favour, there was too great an absence of symmetry about him. Her imagination, however, had been set at work by the history given of him by Mrs. Caledon and Valentine Ponsonby. Lill could not hear of or see anything like persecution with- out coming forward as a zealous champion of the perse- cuted. Once, in London, she had run into the street before Sir Mark's house, bareheaded, to take the i)art of a little urchin against a big boy. Another time, in Paris, she had stopped to upbraid a carter for ill-using his horse. Feminine to cowardice by character, she was bold as Don (iui.xote where there was a wrong towards another to redress. It was the indelible recollection made by the ill-usage received by her timid grandmother from Sir Mark, which rendered lier so rebellious to him. Well, tlie first night Lill met the Kalian, her vanity had been tickled by his strong, undisguised admiration, very dilferent from lhe/o(/e, covert gallant glances her beauty had hitherto reaped. Then her generous feelings had been called into play, and she had intended to patronize and protect this unfortunate e.\iie. Now this evening it seemed to lier as if he were not unhajipy, and not in the least in want of protection — had seemed as if he wished to give her to understand UNCOMMON DOMESTIC SCKNKS. 57 that his friends, the Ponsonbj-s, were her superiors, and every other person's superiors. Lill went to bed not at all certain that she should try to make Mr. Giuliani the i'ashion. How was she to guess that the Italian had acted on a well-digested plan ? Giuliani was not the man to be overtaken unawares by a passion. lie discovered that he was on the point of falling desperately in love with Miss Tufton, against his judgment of her character. This, together with a conscientious horror of ever bringing her into contac* with his poverty, weighed more with liim than any idei of an im})assable barrier of rank between them, llki knew also that it was only by ari'csting his course noi , he could save himself; one step forwards, and hew^s over the precipice. His clear-sightedness on the < ;ie side, and Lady Ponsonby's perce{)tion of the coolnesb of her daughter's feelings towards Lill, served to check (lie acquaintance from ripening into any intimacy. Nor did Sir Mark help it on, by cultivating a further knowledge of Alicia's fine dark eyes. It may be well, in order to explain somewhat Sir Mark's strange and capricious temper, to say a word or two here of his antecedents. The baronet had begun his career with three lives be- tween him and the family tille. He had known the hardships and insults that attend a penniless young man's d£Jjut in the world ; he had learned the bitter experiences specially proper to a poor relation, and he had sworn to himself the day he first entered a merchant's counting- house, where he had had to perform something very like a menial service, that one day he would do as much for others as had been done to him. Each tyrant hatches a large brood of his kind ; and sends them forth full of spite against the world, to propagate evil from genera- tion to generation. Sir Mark had plenty of strength of will to have been a good man, as witness the self-control which enabled him to conquer his sanguine temperament and to live for ten years the life of an anchorite, saving and starving, in order to secure the possession of that power which would supply hhn with the means of brow- beating as he had been browbeaten. By a succession of lamentable deaths, he suddenly found himself at the 58 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. apex of his wishes — rich, titled, one of the class he had BO long envied. He was already married, and to a woman many years his senior, whose attraction for him had been her few thousand pounds. She wure the title of Lady Tufton but a few months, then died, leaving Sir Mark with a son of five years old, and more obliged to her even than he had been when she accepted him. or during the many years of her complete self-abuegaticni. After this, Sir Mark flourished like a green bay-tree. He was free to begin life again. Loving gold and rank as he did, it would have been consistent for him to marry now some one possessing both these attributes. But men are rarely consistent with themselves ; if they were, the arts of diplomacy and of government would be sim- plified. On the contrary, in speculations as to the con- duct of persons, one must make as many allowances fur their vagaries as wise mariners do for those of the com- pass ; so many strange, invisible influences attract men and compasses from their right point. Sir Mark took for his second wife a young, beautiful, penniless girl, the daughter of his jeweller. He sepa- rated her entirely from her parents, and every member of her family, and treated her ill all the rest of her life. If one dared to suppose such a possibility. Sir Mark had chosen her to gratify his intense feeling for youth and beauty, and at the same time to have at hand one so un- protected, on whom ho could safely carry out the savage vow made in his poverty. This was the poor lad before the birth of his child, recommending in a touciiing letter his young widow to his father's care. Mrs. Tufton came to England, and Lill was born almost immediately after her arrival. Sir Mark was at first furious at the sex of the child, but he allowed the widowed mother to remain at Wavering, the family estate. He was never there himself but during the shooting season, and she might as well have the benefit of a house rent-free, with the attendance of the indis- pensable servants he was compelled to keep ; besides, it looked well in the eyes of the world, her residing under his roof: but she must provide her own living; to do which he allowed her two hundred a year, exact- ing ligorous payment for the vegetables and fruit she had from his gardens. In the spring of the year 1832, young Mrs. Tufton died, and Lill was left to the mercy of her grandfather. The child became dear as the apple of her eye to Lady Tufton, and awoke by her beauty and grace some natural instincts of affection in Sir Mark. The baronet had been remarkably handsome himself when young, and had an unconquerable antipathy to those devoid of good looks. Fancying he traced a likeness in Lill to himself, he began to notice and capriciously to indulge her. Sir Mark, however, was not formed for tenderness ; there- fore, though he liked and admired the little girl, he could not prevent occasional outbursts of cruelty even towards her. One day that he had been more outrageous than usual in his conduct to Lady Tufton, Lill suddenly struck him with all her baby strength. Sir Mark, as a punishment, ordered her to be let down into a deep, empty water-butt ; she was not to be taken out until she promised to ask his pardon. Three, four, five hours went by, and no noise or cry proceeded from the little prisoner. Lady Tufton was ill with grief and terror, and even the baronet began to wish the culprit would give him an opportunity of relenting. At last he desired one of the gardeners to take a ladder, and see what Miss (50 WHO nnKAKS — pays. Tut'ton was doing'. Tlio child looked up sit the man, and lang-hed. There was nothing left for Sir Mark to do but to pretend forgetfulness of the condition on which she was to' be released. When she was lifted out of the tub, she was unable to stand, and for weeks after lay a little nuirtyr to rheumatic fever. She would probably have died before yielding to her grandfather, whom she do Glared she wished to kill for his cruelty to her dear, dear grandmamma. Under such influences did Lill's childhood pass. In her girlhood she was constantly spurred on to acquire accomplishments, while the atmosphere she brcatlied w^as thick with the smoke of the incense burned before wealth and rank. When the second Lady Tufton died. Sir Mark confided his granddaughter to the charge of INIiss Crumpton — a nominal charge, as, from the age of thirteen, the young lady had managed her chaporone. While Lill's distaste to her grandfather was strengthening every year, he in his way had been making her more and more the object of his life. The estates went with the title; therefore Lill's fortune could only be what Sir Mark had made while in business, or what he might economize out of his i)re- sent large income. He took to speculating at first, with the view of making her an heiress, but this motive had long since lapsed into a secondary one : the old habit of striving after gain awoke re-invigorated, and to make money for money's sake became once more the main occupation of his life. THE MOTH 61 CHAPTER X. The Moth. A FORTNIGHT aftcr the evening Lill had spent at Lad* Ponsonby's, it was Christmas, and tlie lioulevards ol Paris, smothered by temporary booths and a mixed dense multitude, had the air of a country fair. The shop-windows, it nuiy be remarked, were gayer than the generality of faces contemplating them — faces full of careful eagerness to discover trinkets and knick-knacks exactly to suit and do honour to a certain sum to be applied to the purchase of a number of gifts, considered de rigueur, whatever inconvenience they might occasion to the giver. The. Christmas-box of England assumes mighty proportion when it crosses the Channel and be- comes Strennes Frenchmen, however, do not grumble over the change of the petit cadeau into a heavy tax ; they turn it, as they do. every other disaster, into a mat- ter for boast or congratulation. Amid a gay group wandering from one bewitching window to another, Ciuliani saw Lill — not the first time by many since I^ady Ponsonljy's soir6e. AVliether chance or involuntary purpose led him almost daily into the Champs Elys6es, he did not investigate. The pleasure of a sight of that lovely face, the realization of his most poetic fancies, was at his own cost, and therefore need not trouble him. He knew how gay a life she led ; in the mornings driving or walking, in the evenings at balls, concerts, or theatres. Nevertheless the sight of her, who was in search of the most crude realities, always sent him into the land of dreams. As he now passed her on t^e Boulevards, their eyes met, and Lill smiled cordiallj% and gave him a friendly nod of her head, not a dry salute bidding you keep your distance. " How beautiful everything is, Mr. Giuliani !" she ex- claimed. That evening the Italian consulted Lady Pnnsonby as to whether lie ought or ought not to pay a visit to Miss Tufton. in obedience to the French custom, which 6 62 WHO BREAKS — PATS. at Christmas exacts that ceremony from the most dis- tant acquaintance. " I should be sorry," he explained, " to be wanting in any attention, and I am sure Miss Tufton would under- stand my doing so as a politeness ; but that terrible old gentleman is capable of taking it as an insult." As Lady Ponsonby hesitated a moment, in regret that the moth would singe its wings, Alicia said, — " Suppose you and Valentine go together." Giuliani has a disinclination to accept what seemed like protection in the matter, but he curbed what he knew to be an undue susceptibility; and it was settled that the two gentlemen should make their call on the following day. "When Valentine and his Italian friend entered the Tufton's drawing-room, thoy found Lill surrounded by a crowd of visitors, and Giuliani had time, before she per- ceived iiim, to admire her ease of manner, her perfect knowledge of what to do or say on every occasion. Her little bright-haired, compact head was held erect with a domiuaut air, as if to take cognizance of all that was going on about her. After a little, she observed Giuli- ani standing alone in the recess of one of the windows, Valentine having been accosted by an acquaintance. Lill at once made her way to him, and remained talking to him, with a look of interest meant to influence the other callers ; just one of the occasions when Lill's vehe- ment nature led her to over-act a part. Aunmg the persons present who took most notice of her beliaviour was Mr. 'J'ufton, ])resuiMptive heir to Sir Mark's baronetcy and estates; a very young man, but lately arrived at his majority. There was that similarity of feature between him and Lill which attnclies itself so mysteriously to persons of the same original stock. As a rule it is, the same name, the same ajtpearance. A very general remark on J'Mward Tuftdii was, " What a pretty girl he would have made !" lie had the same pure lily and rose comi)lexion as f.ill, the same curly, gi'ldcn hair, the same delicate nose, tlie same violet blue eyes ; the dill'ereuce lay m the nu)utli and chin ; in Mr. 'I'uf- ton both these features were as e\]ires>iv(> as ])iissilile of weakness — Ihechiii sloping sillily away into his throat. THE MOTH. 63 This yo^^l^ ^^^ the eldest son of a certain Rev. Ed- ward Tufton, at whose vicarage the rejoicings had been great on tlie news that Captain Tufton's widow had given birth to a girl instead of the hoped-for boy. The vicar reposed in his own churchyard, and Edward was now mentioned in the last Baronetage as Sir Mark's probable heir. Sir Marie, out of respect to public opinion, had sent Mr. Tufton to Oxford, and gave him an allowance of three hundred a-year, hating him with all the hatred due to him for taking money out of his pocket, for not being his bond fide grandchild, and yet his successor. Sir Mark had had an idea of marrying a third time, in the hope of having an heir of his own ; but he had grown old, suspicious, and dilatory ; besides, he was in- clined to seek for a bride among young and lovely girls, and such hesitated, not so much on account of his age, as of the reports circulating as to his savage temper and miserly stinginess. Sir Mark, at least once every year, broached the sub- ject of his marriage, and many were the sleepless nights this probability gave Edward's sensible, far-seeing mo- ther. It was in obedience to maternal suggestions that Mr. Tufton had come uninvited to spend the Christ- mas with Sir Mark in Paris. He had, besides, an admi- ration in the bud for lall — strong when in her presence, weak when out of it — and a further tendency to con- sider her as part of his inheritance, if he should so choose it to be. Lill and he had been playfellows, and on her side she had that sort of liking for him which early companion- ship gives. They knew the same people, visited- at the same houses, danced together, rode together, but as for ever having had the most remote idea of marrying Sir Mark's heir presumptive, Lill would sooner have thought of a Siamese prince. For all her giddy ways, Lill had her ideal — one she was resolved on finding, or going to her grave a spinster — as wonderful and rare an ideal as ever girlish heart worshipped — a King Arthur, or possibly, as she grew older, a Sir Charles Grandison, but a Sir Charles who had nevt, had a Clem- entina episode, some one, at all events, grave, stately, 64 WHO BREAKS — PATS. courteous, as superior in talent as in character to the rest of the world, his only little bit of weakness a pas- sionate love for her, which she would reward by passion- ate worship. His word should be her law; her motto, " God is thy law, thou mine." This was Lill's cherished dream, as she let herself float unresistingly into the rapids of the gay world. As soon as the drawing-room was empty of visitors and Lill was left with only Miss Crunipton and young Mr. Tufton, she exclaimed, as she might have done to a brother, — " How I wisli, Edward, you would give up using that odious eye-glass ; it makes you seem so imperti- nent." Lill had been made indignant by Edward's having fixed his glass in his eye, and stared uninterruptedly at be/ and Mr. Giuliani, until the latter took his leave. " Give it up !" retorted the young man ; " why your face where you are now standing appears merely a round white spot to me ; I can't see a feature." " Sad exaggeration : I know you were not short-sighted before you went to Oxford." " Exactly ; it was the effect of the midnight lamp which injured my eyesight." " Nonsense ; it is simply an affectation, and a very disagrccal)le one." Edward was lolling on a sofa during this conversation, and Lill walking uj) and down the room. The young gentleman did not answer for a little, then shi)Uled out, — " I know what has made you so cross ; it was because I looked at that Grimgriflinofl" with tho seedy coat you were so taken up with. How 1 hate foreigners !" "Then why do you come among tliemV" flashed out Lill. with sparkling eyes;"and l)eing an university man, I wonder you have not learned to s]ieak more correctly; we ourselves are the foreigners in France." "That's s])litting straws," said Mr. lOdward, pouting his pretty Hjjs. " 1 shall advise Sir Mark to take you back to Enjrhind if he d«)esu't want a horrid Frencbmau in the family." Lill .stojtprd her walk, and stood witii her head turned THE MOTH. 65 over her shoulder to look at the speaker ; she laughingly sang, by way of answer, — "There was a little man, who had a little soul, And he said to his soul, let's try, try, try, To make a little speech between you and I, I, I." " By heavens ! you ought to have your picture taken just as you are !" exclaimed the young man, sitting bolt upright. " You are a real beauty." " Good-bye, good-bye." and, waving her hand, she went away singing, " There was a little man, who had a little soul," tillthe passages echoed again. The words reached Mr. Tufton's ear : their meaning did not reach his brain. 66 WHO BKEAKS — PAY8. CHAPTER XI. If you Doubt — Abstain. " Gone ! Gone !" exclaimed Lill, joyfully, as Sir Marl< and Edward Tufton drove from the door on the 7th of January, tn route for England. "Now, Crummie, let us be as happy as the day is long." Miss Crumptou looked a little grave as she said, — "I don't like to hear you speak in that way, Lill. Suppose anything should happen to Sir Mark, and you should never see him again, you would be vexed to think that you had been so glad to got rid of him." " 1 cannot tell what 1 should feel in that case, dear, good cousin, but 1 know I am happy just now, and caunot get up the least little bit of sentiment on the joyful occasion ; it is people's own fault when they are not loved. Now Crummie, away with melancholy; you have admonished me as it was your duty to do ; and 1 give you absolution." Lill went singing to a large cage, opened the door, and let her pet birds ily about the room ; they perched on her shoulder, took sugar from between her lips : they chiri)cd and sang to her. and she chir]>ed and sang to them; then she sent them back to their glided ju'ison, and began to arrange the flowers just brought in, looking as loving and loveable as a girl can be imagined. "Flowers, and birds, and music, and pleasant people to live with, and clever iH'ojile to listen to, wouldn't that be a nice world?" she said, half to herself, hall' to .Miss Crumpton. " There, now, look at that rose ; I can fancy a man falling in love with such a delicate beauty of a ros2, and oh ! what a perfume ! The perfume of a flower is like — is like — " Miss Crumpton looked up from her work, Lill answered the mute interrogation : "Crummie, dear, 1 am trying to catch hold of my thought to put it into words, and it slips away from me." Lill was by this time seated before her writing-table, pen in hand, tickling her cheek with the feathered end. IP YOU DOUBT — ABSTAIN. 67 " Tt is like," she continued, " the sweetness and hap- piness that good kind people give to one's lite. Ah, dear, delicious rose ! Words are too poor to say what you put into my head." Miss Crumptou was deep in her work, and absolute quiet reigned in the room ; it even rendered the birds silent. "Cousin!" exclaimed Lill, at last, "do you recollect my saying I would have lessons from Mr. Giuliani ?" " Yes, my dear ; I suppose you have thought better of it. What leisure time have you V " That's a secondary consideration," said Lill. " I wish you to know beforehand what I am going to do. I am now going to write to Mr. Giuliani to ask him to give me a dozen lessons — only a dozen ; that will make my conscience easy about the expense I put him to. Did you hear Edward Tufton take notice of his shabby coat? It went to my heart! I believe if it had not been for that remark, I should have forgotten the lessons." " Lill, if you would only listen to me for once — " " No ; I cannot, dear Crumraie," interrupting Lill, closing her chaperone's mouth with her own rosy lips. " It is very imprudent," persisted Miss Crumpton. " In what way ?" asked Lill, in a dry voice, and with a glance that silenced Miss Crumpton. Lill wrote a few lines, sealed and directed the note, and rang the bell. " Take that to the address," said she to Joseph. " Am I to wait for an answer ?" " Ask if there be one." The messenger brought no reply to Miss Tufton'a note, for, as might have been expected, Giuliani was out. It only reached him when he returned at five o'clock. His first sensation on reading it was vexation. " It seems," thought he, " that I am fatally destined to be the teacher of those persons whose acquaintance on a foot- ing of equality is most agreeable to me. This young lady makes no question of my acceding to her proposal, but asks me to name my own days and hours, and to send her a list of the books she must purchase, much in the incisive terms she would use to her dressmaker. 68 WBO BREAKS — PAYS. The arrogance of her nation peeps fi'om beneath the embroidery of her polite language." Satisfied that he had come to au impartial judgment, he even wrote a few lines, expressing his regret that he had no disengaged time, but after a quarter of an hour's fuming, he threw what he had written into the fire, as a subterfuge unworthy of him. He would consult Lady Ponsonby, and to her ladyship he went. " What causes your hesitation, my good friend ?" was Lady Ponsonby's straightforward way of entering on the subject. " A silly one, you will say," he returned ; " it mortifies me, after being on a footing of equality with this young lady, to sink down into her master at so much a lesson." Lady Ponsonby leaned her head on her hand, and with her third finger gently stroked her nose ; a sign with her of inward perplexity. " If I have judged Miss Tufton rightly," she at last Baid, "your being her paid master will not alter your E resent position with her. Should it do so, the loss of er as an acquaintance would give you no regret." " Then you advise me to agree ?" "There is the old rule, Dans le doute, ahstienMoi." " And a capital rule it is," observed Giuliani, musingly " Wliich you do not feel much inclined to follow," said Lady Ponsonby, with a slight smile. "Take my advice, Mr. Giuliani, though you have not done me the honor to ask for it ;" said Alicia, inter- fering : " accept of Miss Tufton as a pupil ; she will not give you much trouble, I am sure." " She jiarticularizcs, strangely enough," replied Giuliani, drawing the note from his pocket, and giving it to Miss l*ousonby, " that she wishes for a dozen lessons." "Some whim of her graMdCatlier's ; gossip says he is a great miser. Wliat a pretty hand Miss Tufton writes," added Alicia, returning the note. •' And so fond of violets," said Giuliani, without thinking of what he was saying. 'I'lie next ninrMing Miss Tuflon rocoivcd a most core- miinionsly worded answer from Mr. (Jinliani, naming the hours he had at liberty, and begging iier to choose tiioso IF YOU DOUBT — ABSTAIN. 69 most agreeable to her. He recommended her to procure Robello's Grammar, adding that other books could be decided on when he should have had the honor of ex- amining what was Miss Tuftou's knowledge of the Italian language. " Well, Crummie, here's enough honor and respect crammed into half-a-dozeu lines to satisfy you that Mr. Giuliani intends to preserve his distance, or rather, I believe, to make me keep mine. I begin to feel nervous, he takes the matter so in earnest." Lill fixed on Tuesdays and Fridays for her lessons, because the hour Giuliani had free on those days was from eleven to twelve, too early for any interruption from callers, and, supposing Sir Mark to return before she had had the dozen lessons she had asked for, she was safe from his interference, as he never left his dressing- room before lunch-time. There was a boudoir beyond the back drawing-room, which Lill had appropriated to herself as a study. There she practised and painted, and it was there that she de- termined to receive her new master. On the first morn- ing he was to come, she placed pens, ink, paper, and Rol)ello's Grammar on a table drawn towards the window, and then went in search of Miss Crumpton, begging her to instal herself by the fireside, with her crochet-work. " I feel as odd as possible," said Lill, as she heard eleven strike. Mr. Giuliani was punctual. Lill was going towards him with the intention of shaking hands, but with a slight bow addressed to both ladies, he took a chair at the iable, just as the most matter-of-fact master might have done ; Lill, not a little surprised, also sat down. " Will you be so good as to let me hear you read this paragraph ?" said Giuliani, opening the grammar at page 9. Lill began : " Qual havvi terra die il sole illumini con luce piA Serena, o che riscaldi con piil dolce tepore !" she flushed crimson as he corrected each error of pro- nunciation, provoked at herself for stammering and ap- pearing to know less of the language than she really did. He perceived her embarrassment, and his voice became gentle and encouraging. TO WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Had Miss Tufton ever read the Promessi Sposi ?" " I began it once," said Lill, " but I could not go on with it ; it seemed very stupid." Up rose Giuliani's eyebrows with unspeakable astonish- ment. " Stupid !" he repeated, " do you not know what your own distinguished countryman, Roofers said of Manzoni's clief-cVopuvre: he declared it was worth all Walter Scott's novels put together." Lill was not one to yield immediately, even to Mr. Rogers' authority. " 1 don't like tame pastoral stories, Mr. (liuliani," she said, with a resumption of her usual vivacity, now that there was no more question of Robello's grammar. " No more do I," he replied ; " but you will find as little insipidity in the Promessi Sposi as in Shakspeare ; the working of the passions, the tyranny of the aristo- crat over the plebeian artisan, the modest but constant, deep love of Lucia, delineated and painted by a master hand, can never be tame ; though I allow, you will not find in any of Manzoni's pages the pepper and spice of the French school." " I will begin it again," said Lill ; " I suppose 1 shall be able to find it at any of the great booksellers." " Will you permit me to lend you my copy ? it is a large one, and I always myself find a foreign hiiiguagc easier to understand in large than in small print." Lill accepted the oiler with gratitude. "You will be so good as to learn by heart for next lesson, the first exercise, ' Mn^nionitiue,' and a verb, and write out an exercise ; you can take the third." She read over with him the rules for it, and he ex- jilaincd patiently whatever she did not understand, and tlicn it was twelve o'clock. Mr. (jiuliaiii rose ininiedi- atcly, and with another bow was gone almost before Lill could rise from her seat. "1 never was so hot before," was her first exclama- tion, putting her two hands to lier checks ; and then she stood with a puzzled look contemplating the laliie and the books. I lad she spoken out licr thoughts, she would have said that slie luid not exnected Mr. (Jiuliani to be- have so exactly like any oilier master, treat her so IF TOTT DOUBT — ABSTAIN. 71 ^xactly as any ordinary pupil. She had imagined a sort of desultory teaching, a little reading-, and a good deal of agreeable conversation on Italian literature, of course; and now she was to learn verbs and vocabulary ; and write exercises as if she were a school-girl. 'I'hen this jumping up and disappearing as the hour struck was downright preposterous. On Friday she did not offer to shake hands when Giu Hani came in. The grammar was ready open before his seat, and he began at once, " Le Lundi f attends le tailleur." Lill repeated her vocabulary perfectly. " Bene" said the master, but the exercise drew down on Lill an avalanche of explanations and references to rules. He then laid before her the first volume of the Promessi Sposi. " I have here and there," said he, " translated into English to the best of my ability some of what I sus- pected might require a dictionary." Lill's quick glance discovered a multitude of inter- lineations in tlu> pages. She was touclied by the idea that he had devoted so much time and trouble to help her, and the cloud on her face cleared awa\', and her voice was cheerful, when she expressed her obligation. But after she had read some twenty lines, she stopped and said, — " Oh ! Mr. Giuliani, I want you so much to explain to me something of these Italian affairs. I have been reading an account of the rejoicings at Genoa, in honour of the hundredth anniversary of the driving out of the Austrians, and also that the present assembly of all the scientific men of Italy patronized by Charles All)ert, is a mere cloak to hide a political conspira.cy. Why are the Italians always conspiring ?" " You ask me to tell you a long and tragical story," replied Giuliani, in a tone revealing pain. The English girl, native of the freest country in the world, did not, perhaps could not, comprehend the bit- terness to Italians of iiaving to discuss the checks and defeats they had suffered in their pursuit of their legiti- mate aim of liberty. The majdrity judge of the attempt by the issue. But Time takes on itself to revise rash 72 ■WHO BREAKS — PATS. condemnations, and to prove over and over again that failures may open an eventual road to success. "If you are really interested in the affairs of my country," went on Giuliani, " 1 will bring you a work or two, wliicli will answer your question of ' Why are the Italians always conspiring ?' At present my conscience will not allow me to take up your lesson by conversation on the subject." Lill opened her eyes very wide on him, and said tartly, — " I think I might be allowed to decide the right or wrong of that." " Pardon me ! you pay me to teach you Italian, not to converse on Italian politics," returned Giuliani, quietly. "May I request you to go on reading?" The conversation between master and pupil was in French, of which Miss Crumpton scarcely knew a word. The chapcrone heard, however, from the tone of the two voices, that something had gone wrong, and looked inquiringly towards the table. Lill, aware of this, im- mediately obeyed Giuliani's invitation and continued her reading. Though she was nettled at the rebuff she had received, Lill approved of it, and had no intention of confiding it to Miss Crumpton. That lady was already prejudiced against Mr. Giuliani, and objected to his Ix'ing wliere he was; and Lill knew that Crunimie's prejudices were ineffaceable, and that she had the faculty of returning to the charge, and, like her countrymen, never undorsland- ing that she was beaten. Therefore with regard to Mr. Giuliani, Lill, uidike herself, confided no feelings or opinions to her chaperonc. It would have been difficult to say what either were, for tliey varied with almost every lesson. jjjll now devoted the greater part of her mornings to Italian : she could do nothing by halves. As she read the Promessi Sposi, she compared what she read with her master's description of it. "A true jiicture of the working of the human jiassions, of the tyranny of the great, and of a modest, constant love." Hitherto she had turned over the leaves of many novels, only stojqiing to read, when scenes of passion occurred ; and she bud preferred those talcs most which IF TOU DOUBT — ABSTAIN. 73 presented lier with pictures of life unknown to her . violent, brilliant, i)ictaresque. Giuliani's words, "a modest, constant love," had sounded to her like "namby-pamby propriety." How were poor peasants to find time for being in love ! 'I'he dark episode of the iSignora interested her, and she told Giuliani so. " It is said," he replied, " that the woes of the great affect us more than the sorrows of the little, and that that is the reason why the tragic poets deal almost exclusively with the misfortunes of kings and princes. The Signora is a princess, therefore you feel more for her than for the poor little country girl." "And republicans never miss sending a shaft against rank," said Lill, smiling; "you are wrong here, it is not the nun's rank which invests her with such an interest; it is her being made such a victim — oh, the odious, refined cimning of her relations! The way even her father takes advantage of her best feelings ; and, when she is driving on the Strada Marina, and, the carriages filled with gay companj pass her, you remem- ber how one of her uncles turns to her and says : — 'Ah ! sly one, you have thrust aside all these frivolities; you are a saint, leaving us poor creatures to stick in worldly vanities ; you run away to live a holy life, and go to Paradise in a carriage.' It made me wild to read it," and Lill's eyes flashed and sparkled. " But Lucia is also a victim," said relentless Giuliani, " and yet her anguish leaves you cold." " Oh ! cold is not the right word to use," remonstrated Lill ; " I am sure if crying is to be taken as any sign of feeling, I cried enough when she is in the boat, and ap- pears to sleep, but is weeping silently ; I felt every word of the last page of that eighth chapter, as if they came from my own heart. But still I uphold that the Signora is the most interesting. She is so cruelly cut off from all hope ; it is so terrifying to see her slipping from weakness into vice, and down into the lowest depths of crime, as if it were unavoidable." " Do you imagine Lucia would have fallen as the Sig- nora did, however tempted, or that in Ijucia's situation the Signora would have walked innocently ?" 74 WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Ah ! I don't know wioiiijh of human nature to ilecide that : perhaps," adtled Lill, phiyfuUy, " Lucia is too good ; one is too sure she will always do right whatever happens." " A capital reason," replied Giuliani, " which means that virtue is a bore, and that an infusion of wickedness is indispensable to give zest to a heroine." " Do you know, Mr. Giuliani, you are very much in- clined to be unjust to mc ; you misconstrue into I don't know what absurd theory, a remark made in jest to finish off an argument, in which I was sensible I was getting defeated." " Forgive my rough speaking, Miss Tufton," said Giu- liani, in an earnest voice. " I wished to warn one so young and gifted as you are, against acquiring the habit of finding satisfaction in pictures of w'hat lowers human nature; try, on the contrary, to seek pleasure only in that which elevates our being." Lill felt as impressible women do, when they receive a serious check for what they had intended as playfulness. She was half inclined to«be angry, and half to cry ; how- ever she continued her reading with a fair show of com- posure. HARD LESSONS. 75 CHAPTER XII. Hard Lessons. This conversation took place when two-thirds of Miss Tui'ton's dozen lessons had been received. It is time, therefore, to examine a little into the state of Mr. Giuli- ani's heart, after having been so long in a post of ex- treme danger. We have tried to describe the sort of man he was ; a man in every situation of life more likely to stiffen him- self than to be pliant. One who had voluntarily re- nounced a high personal position because it entailed the denial of his political principles ; who had failed as a writer, because denied -the liberty to write according to his conscience. One who was indifferent to the glit- ter of riches or pleasures : who was contented with an obscure sphere, whilst waiting for a fitting occasion to devote himself to his country usefully — an occasion that he was convinced would soon occur — and in the meantime employing his circumscribed leisure for the acquisition of knowledge. This was the Giuliani Lill had met at Mrs. Caledon's. "What neither kings nor governments, nor " times out of joint," nor literary time- servers, had been able to do, a slight girl had effected. She had destroyed his healthy resignation, thrown every faculty of his soul into deadly struggle, keeping his spirit floating between two opposed influences, love and reason. Under his grave exterior, the continual warfare raging between these inimical adversaries was difficult to dis- cern. He had been at the first a little afraid of his own lively admiration for Lill, and had narrowly watched himself ; but when he found tiiat he had no feverish im- patience to see her, that even the interval of a wec^b (when, for some reason or other, she had put off a le.> son), did not seem long to him, — he breathed freely, convinced that danger did not lurk for him even in her sweet presence. This happy conviction faded almost as rapidly as it had sprung n\). (iliuliani was no self-indulgent dreamer. VYith the certitude that he loved Lill with all the con- 7G WHO BREAKS — PATS. centrated energy of his nature, came also the knowledge that he had an enemy to conquer. Spare it to-day, and to-morrow it would be too late. Love held an inebria- ting cup to his lips. Reason snatched it away, took from it Hope, and gave it back to him, a bitter yet divine draught of struggle and suffering. His probing spirit had detected that though Lill's ingenuous trust in his judgment and unconscious adoption of his opinions, might be fostered into attachment, her heart did not spontaneously incline towards his. That versatility of her impressions, which exercised so great a fascination over him, was but a reason the more for his protecting her against himself. He was neither a blind adorer nor a blind detractor of the sex — the two camps into which the men of his time seemed divided. He knew that good, strong-hearted women, were capable of the most sublime and unselfish missions; women from out of whose intiuite benevolence and gentleness, men wearied of battling with the egotism of the world, could gather hope fiu- the future and forgetfulness of present evil. But Lill, lovely, sprightly Lill, with noble impulses, was a spoilt child of fortune ; acting from sentiment, with only confused notions of justice, without any firm con- victions of what was right or what wrong. Love her he did ; avoid her he must. His first impulse was to leave Paris immediately, but he was not master of the situa^ tion. He had no money to live upon, except the pro- duce of his teaching. A moment of escape offered itself to Giuliani; the di.zcn lessons wliich Lill had asked for were at an end. He did meditate excusing himself from further at tend- ance on her ; but the weakness of human nature and the re])ugnance to seem to jjress the pecnniary part of the allair on iier notice, withheld him, and the liappy occa^ eioii was lost. Lill, in the meanwhile, was greatly distressing herself as to how she was to manage to pay liim. She had held ti:(( money in tlie liollow of her haud'during tiie thirteenth and fourteenth h^ssons. " If it were fifty or a hundred pounds," said she to licrsclf, " it would not be so dreadful to do ; but a paltry Bixty Irancs !" HARD LESSONS. 11 She thought of confiding the task to Miss Crumpton, but she was afraid of the way her chaperone might acquit herself of the commission. Miss Crumpton was extremely particular about having receipts for every payment she made. Lill would never recover it, should Miss Crumpton ask one from Mr. Giuliani. No : sho must give the money herself, and she would spare him as much as possible by having no witnesses to the fact. lu pursuance of this determination, she said to Miss Crumpton on the ensuing lesson day, — " I am going to pay Mr. Giuliani to-day. Give me the money, please ; and, Crummie, just go out of the room at five minutes to twelve, I am sure he would rather I paid him without anybody looking on " "Ah ! just as you please, my dear ; it's very lucky your lessons are over before Sir Mark's return. " They are not over," replied Lill. " I have begun another dozen. I did not exactly mean to do so, Crum- mie ; but somehow I had not the courage to say I did not wish for any more." Miss Crumpton was really vexed, and moreover fright- ened. A thought that had more than once troubled her lately, suddenly made her use now these warning words: " Take care what you are about, Lill !" Lill turned at bay like a young lioness on the poor lady, " Pray what am I to take care of, Miss Crumpton ?" " I did not mean to ofiend you, my dear." " But you do oflend me. What irretrievable scrape is there in having two dozen, instead of one dozen Italian lessons ?" The door bell rang, or probably Miss Crumpton would have very sufficiently succeeded in opening Lill's eyes to the feelings Giuliani entertained towards her ; in short, played the part of destiny, as it was not unlikely that the knowledge that she was adored by a man for whom she felt such respect and esteem, might have so wrought on Lill, as to make her give him her maiden heart in return. However, fate willed the door-bell should ring, and prevent Miss Crumpton's answer. It was not Mr. Giuliani, as the ladies had anticipated, but a letter from England, and from Sir Mark. In spite of all her show 7* 78 WHO BREAKS — PATS. of bravery, Lill opened it with trembl...*: fiiij^ers, that betrayed an inner trepidation, her eyes ghmcing eagtrly over Sir Mark's extremely well-written epistle. Sir Mark, who alwavs wrote aorecablv, as if to make sure that no line of his should ever hang him, surpassed himself in his present composition, lie was afllection- ate, and actually liberal in deeds as well as words. He began by apologizing to his granddaughter for being a remiss correspondent — wished to know if Miss Tuft on were still pleased with Paris, and if she could make up her mind to remain there a little longer — till Easter Iierha])s ? He had unexpected business which would proLably detain him until then. London was empty ; no gaiety — never was till after April. He enclosed a letter of credit on Hottenguer and Co. for household expenses; be believed it was ample enough to allow her also to amuse herself as much as she liked. Lill drew a long breath, like one relieved of a load, and gave theletter of credit to MissCrumpton, saying. — " To be so generous and so very kind Sir Mark must be ill : however, Cousin Crumpton, set your mind at rest, the evil hour you anticipated for me is adjourned." It was with great elation of spirits at what was una- vowcdly a hap])y reprieve, and forgetful of either warn- ing or offence, that Lill received her Italian master. She was at a flower-stand when he came in, trying to twine some ivy liranches round the bars. The face she turned towards him was as bright as ever that of Aurora ap- peared in dreams to poet or painter. " Please come here and help me," she said. He went to her side. " No, no, not that way. ^[r. Ciuliani," as he at lempfed to weave in the Itranch she gave him. " You are forcing it against its will : don't you know that even creepers have a will of their own ?" " Indeed 1 did not ; 1 am a thorough ignoramus about flowers." " But you love them, I hope." " I enjoy them when 1 see them ; but they arc not a uccessity of my life." "Oh, I ani sorry to liear you say that ! I am so fond of thum, and they are so grateful for fouducss. At buuic, HARD LESSONS. 79 the first thing I do in the morning is to run out and look at my flowers, and I have a positive remorse if I see one drooping ; I know it is through my neglect ; I water it, and presently up rises its sweet head, as if to thank me," and while Lill spoke she was busy tying up her plants, or relieving them from old blossoms or withered leaves, all of which she put quite naturally into Giuliani's hands, her own small white fingers touching his at every moment. Miss Crumpton had been over-anxious to obey Lill's injunction, and had left the room before Giuliani's arrival. Plis pupil was so confiding, so gentle, so almost af- fectionate in her manner towards him, that the master had a wild desire to catch her in his arms, and tell her that he worshipped her. While he renuxincd silent from his extreme emotion, she talked on to him ; but he did not seize the sense of her words for the dull, heavy sound in his ears ; his head felt as if bursting. Could he have thought at all, he would have been afraid he was in danger of a fit. " There, thank you," said Lill, moving away from the jnrdinih'e. " If you lived in the country, and had a garden of your own, you would soon adore flowers." She was at the table busy with her desk, he standing always motionless where she had been. She came back to him. " Mr. Giuliani," speaking now in a low voice, " you know I owe you something," and with the deepest of blushes she held out a little packet, in which were three napoleons. He was sobered at once, and the " thank you" with which he received the money had reference rather to the service so unconsciously rendered him, of bringing him back to his senses, than to the money she gave him. That day's trials were not at an end for him. Lill was reading Dante, and this day she had to read the end of the fifth canto^he story, in fact, of Paolo and Fran cesca. When she reached the line— " Amor, cb' a null' amato, aniar perdona." he started up, saying abruptly, — 80 WHO BREAKS — PATS. " I must interrupt you ; we lost some of our time to. day. I have a jjressiiig engagement ; you can read the remaining- page to yourself, and prepare the sixth canto for next time." Many years after Giuliani read in his diary at the note made of that lesson these words, — " If I were twenty-one, instead of thirty-one, I should be a happy blockhead this day-^being thirty-one instead of twenty-one, I am a blockhead without the happiness. How enchanting she was to me — familiar as with a dear brother — yet with a touch of shyness that would not have existed between brother and sister. " What the deuce ! was I ignorant when I adopted the career of a teacher — was I ignorant that I was no longer to be a man, but a species of monk or father-con- fessor — that I was to be dead to all the temptations of youth, beauty, and grace, to the sweetness of an angel ? It went very well with me for years. I have seen rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, pretty creatures enough to turn any masculine head, and T declare to heaven, they might have been so many dolls for aught 1 cared. Last year those two sisters from England, so noble, gentle, lovely, even kindly, never hurried my pulse. I had come to believe myself bomb-proof. Query. — What's to be done now? " Answer. — Cut off' your right hand, pluck out your right eye if it offend you." The next words showed by a change in the color of the ink, that they had been added at another time. " I have never been able to absolve Othello for his theft of Desdemona. No matter that she was willing, or her father unreasonable — if indeed he were so — of wiiich fact I know notliing. Capital Sliaksjx'are ! how he i)re- pares that through that rent in llie armour of her discre- tion, a doubt may be shot into Othello's mind as to his bride's truth. " There is a spice of Othello in every man, the less or the more makes a trag-edy or a comedy. Probably I have a larger doSe. Miss Ponsonby comi)ared this Kngli.sli Pearl to Desdemona, when noticing her neat- ness in aH Iho dcliciitc works of women. As far as I am concerned this Pearl tiliall receive no injury, not iiave u HARD LESSONS. 83 flaw in her perfection, to be discovered by a microscope She mifjht pity nie, niif^lit lend lior ear to my sad story. I shall not tell it to lier. A man does not cry out when he is hurt. Heroics ! I declare : well, I am ready to laugh at them, and write myself down no hero — but an ass." 82 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. CHAPTER Xlir. Under Strange Circumstances. Pf;SsiBLY the hiatus botweon those two para2:ra])Ms, marks the moment when Giuliani nii^ht hare retreattd, and did not, from the temptation LilF's presence was for him. The period when he invoked the sacred injunction as a guide, and did not obey its behests. The spirit of the last observation is unlike that of the first : there is in it a perceptible subtle protest ajiainst himself and a recorded promise in favor of his pupil. One morning that Lill was on her way to call on Lady Ponsonby. she saw her ladyship and Alicia in tlie street. 8he pulled the check-string, and jumping out of the carriage, joined them, saying, — " I was on my way to you." " If you will wait a few minutes for me," said Lady Ponsonby, "I shall be home again. We are going to (jiiiliani's apartments with one or two little presents ; it is his fgte day. and we don't wish him to feel himself alone in a foreign land." " Oh ! let me go with you, will you ?" asked Lill. " I am sorrj' I did not know sooner, but I can leave my pencil case with your presents. I don't think he will care for its not being new." Lady Ponsonby had nothing to say against this ar- rangement. Tiicre was no impropriety in Lill's giving her master a pencil-case, nor in lu^r gift being left with those of her ladyship. Still I^ady Ponsonby would rather not have m(>t Lill at that instant. Giuliani's ])()r- Icr wiien asked for the key of the apartment by Lady Ponsonby, who was well known to him, answered, — " Monsieur est chcz liil, madame," " Well, what will you do now ?" asked Lady Ponsonby, turning to Ia\L "Let us go up l)y all means," replied Lill, laughing. " JIow surprised he will be to sec me !" Surprised was scarcely the woril to describe Giuliani's BPnsations, wlien on opening his door he descried Lill's bright face peeping from behind Alicia. UNDER STRANQE CIRCUMSTANCES. 83 " The devil plays ap^ainst me," thought he. The ladies entered the little salon, Lady Ponsonby explaining how she had met Miss Tufton, and brought her with her, carefully takiug all the respousibility of the act on herself. Lill's beautiful eyes grew actually round with astonish- ment, when she saw on the table the bread and the square of chocolate, which Giuliani had been iu the act of eat> ing when they went in ; a clasp-knife like that used by English labourers to cut their bread and cheese, lay by the l)read. After tlie first shock was over, Giuliani was glad that Lill should see his poverty in all its reality; he knew that things imagined have often a charm which vanishes when witnessed. He fancied tliat henceforth any idea of equality between herself and him, would cease, and that thus his task of self-control would be very easy. The contrary of this occurred. The sight touched the warmest springs of Lill's heart. A gentleman so excellent, so accomplished, living in this way, without any one to wait on him — she felt wild to say something kind, to do something to show how much she respected him ; and yet oppressed by a new-born timidity, she re- mained for a little like one ill at ease. Giuliani had, however, one of those sincere, immutable natures which, though not of the kind to conduce to self-advancement, always leaves a man master of himself. He was now so perfectly unembarrassed, explaining how he came to be so late in breakfasting ; so little in need of encouragement, that Lill forgot to feel awkward for him, and began flitting about the room, reading the titles of books, examining the map of Italy, the pipes ranged against the wall, and trying to get a peep down into the street. In the meanwhile. Lady Ponsonby was busy spreading a thick cover on the table, as she said to prevent his fingers from being numbed with writing on the cold mar- ble, while Alicia was adorning his lamp with a shade composed of the tricolour of Italy. " Tante e tante grazic, Madonne mie," said Giuliani, "if I had had a presentiment of my good fortune, I should have tried to be prepared with a sonnet." Lill 84 WHO BREAKS — PATS. was standing apart, wishing to present Jicr pencil case but seized with a fit of shj-ness not to be overcome. " I think I have somethina- better wortli your attention than these meerschaums, INIiss Tufton."' said Giuliani, aa he drew out one of the drawers below his sola ; and taking from it a wooden box, he arranged before the young lady a collection of plaster casts of the monu- ments of Rome. " ]\Iy kindest of pupils, Valentine, brought me these remembrances from home." " Are you a Roman, Mr. Giuliani ?" "An Italian born in the Romagna," was the answer. Lill said, going to the map, " Show me where that is." "You sec, Lady Ponsonby," exclaimed Giuliani, "that in Enjrland there is about as much known of Italy as of China." " That is not a just accusation, Mr. (jiuliani," returned Lill, with spirit. "If you were to be told I came from Staffordshire, or Shropshire, would you know exactly whore to put your finger on those counties in an English map ?" " But the Roman Legation is a state, not a shire, Miss Tufton ; as much a state as either Scotland or Ireland. By the way," turning to Lady Ponsonby, " do you see that the Tuscans are beginning to join in the hymns of praise to the Pope, and manifesting a considerable de gree of aversion to their own government." " Everything that seemed most unlikely to come tc Eass appears now about to happen," said Lady Poiison y. "Indeed, after the miracle of a Pope being chief of the party of progress I have begun lo expect to live to sec an Italy independent and free." " It is difficult to expect regeneration from such a source as a I'ope," replied Giuliani. "The man as a man, I believe to be honest and benevolent ; I allow it, but he is the head of a body wiiich holds to influence, riches, dignities; and to jjrcserve these Pius IX. or any other Pope will be constrained by the princes of the Church to retain temporal ])ower; and the Pope as tem- poral sovereign, must prevent the union and independence of Italy. Ncvertlieless I liai! Ihe daily increasing agita- tion, and the rorthcoming disorder. Fire and sword arc UNDER STRANGE CIRCDMSTANCES. 85 befoi e us ; let them come, they bring a resurrection — life nut deatlL " Alicia, wlio had not been speaking, remarked that notwithstanding Giuliani's interest in the subject on which he was conversing, his eye was always seeking the pretty licad bending over the casts of Roman monuments. Lill had untied her bonnet, and taken oil' her gloves, and altogether she looked as if she were at home ; and not the least like a fine lady under strange circumstances. The striking of the clock made Giuliani start, and re- minded him that time was not his own. " I must go," he said ; " ]Miss Tufton knows that pupils do not like to be made to wait. I see her sometimes look significantly at the clock, when I am five minutes late ; and to-day 1 give my first lesson to a very great and very busy lady, who entreated me to be punctual, as every hour of her day was allotted to some particular pursuit." He accompanied the ladies down stairs, handed Lady Ponsonby and Lill into the carriage, — Alicia had de- clined going with them, — bowed, and Lill saw him waik away by the side of Miss Ponsonby. The sight of the elegant equipage, the spirited horses, the powdered men servants, obliterated the pleasant homely picture of Lill seated in his room. " A precious fool 1 am," was the agreeable conclusion he came to. The first words Lill said to Lady Ponsonby were, — " 1 had not courage to give the pencil-case to Mr. Giuliani." "Perhaps it was better not," said Lady Ponsonby ; "it is always awkward for a man to receive presents from a young Lady." " Miss Ponsonby gave him one." "Alicia? Oh! that's a difi'erent affair. Alicia can scarcely be called a young lady; and do you not see they are on the terms of brother and sister, or rather, to give up a hackneyed and not a true comparison, like honest friends." And here the conversation dropped. Although no list has been furnished of the gaieties which occupied Lill's evenings during the period of her Italian lessons, it must be understood that her routine of engagements was in no way interfered with by her new studies. Many were the glimpses Giuliani had of 8 86 WHO BREAKS — PATS. her on her way to halls ; and each time he received a aew warning of the impracticability of sympathy between their lives. But this was not quite so impossible as he imagined. After having danced a whole evening with men, young, fashionable, and, for the most part, rich and titled, Lill, on her return home, would suliject them to a criticism, which testified to her shrewdness, and shoAved that these partners of a quadrille and a waltz had no chance of interesting her heart. Hitherto Ijill had reflected little on any sul)ject; the habit of thinking out a thought is not a general one; and the curiously far-seeing perspicacity which she had at moments lasted but the length of a moment. CLODDS. 87 CHAPTER XIY. Clouds. There came an epoch in which not only Robello'a graiiimar and Dante were discussed between master and pupil, hut music, painting, poetry were talked over with spirit; when sonielinies the melody of Lill's voice had rendered Mr. (Jiuliuni deaf to the strkingof the noonday hour. The progress of many things in this world is never verified until a great change has been effected. For instance, the course of a river eating away the soil, and creating picturesque windings, where formerly none existed ; or the growth of a great national idea, and still more the influence of mind on mind. Many sow the seed who are not destined to reap the harvest. Thus the intercourse primarily with Mr. Giuliani, and secondarily with the Ponsonbys, was giving to Lill a wider mental view, a clearer perception of good and evil. She began to live under more delicate laws than those which had ruled her when she first came to Paris. One proof of this was, that her belief that she had a right to meet tyranny by cunning was uprooted. She would not for the world that Mr. Giuliani should know of her manage- ment with regard to her lessons. She acknowledged to herself that she needed a firm hand to guide and protect her from the sallies of her own imagination. ]iut the pleasant intercourse alluded to above, had come to an end. Mr. Giuliani's renewed reserve held out against the winning kindness of Lill's manner. The same incident had affected them differently; his pride had enlisted itself on the side of his judgment. He fancied that the greater gentleness he observed in his pupil, immediately after her visit to his apartments, was the effect of compassion ; that the vanishing of that little asperity with which she had seasoned their argumeuts, denoted that she no longer spoke to him as an equal ; he must show her that he would neither permit her to be his benefactress, nor to patronize him; and accordingly he stiffened himself once more into the character of 8 pedagogue. 88 WnO BREAKS — PAYS. Lill, distanced bj- tliis invulnerable reserve, began to care less for her lessons ; she resolved to take no more after the end of the second dozen. She began even te reckon on their close, though it made her a little melan- choly to think that Mr. Giuliani had lost his first good- will towards her. After having thought over her behaviour to him, she found ouly one cause for self- accusation ; the tacit deception -practised against Sir Mark; but that was no wrong surely to Mr. Giuliani. She had, however, an iutuitiuu that Giuliani would view it as an offence. Just as Lill was making sure that her lessons would be finished before her grandfather's arrival, she received a second letter, notifying his iniincdialc return, and de- siring Miss TuftdU to provide a snuxll but elegant and comfortalile suite of rooms for a lady, a particular friend of his. The apartment was not to be in the same house they occujiied. but in the vicinity. Sir Mark mentioned that Edward Tufton would accompany liim to Faris. Something in the tone of this letter startled Lill. It was less carefully worded, and she fancied she traced in it signs of disquietude, as though he were vexed or un- easy. "I wonder who the lady can be?" crooned Miss Crumpton. "It can't be Mrs. Tufton, or he would ask her here, as Edward is coming over ; nor his cousin, Mrs. Blake. She's too old to travel ; besides, he hates her. Nur that pretty Miss Stavely he used to talk so much about. Dr. Stavely wouldn't let his daughter be in apartments by herself; nor — " •' Oh ! CruMimie," interrupted Lill, " how can you go on stringing together the most unlikely ]>eople for Sir Mark to have anything to do with ! Depend upon it, it's some middle-aged widow he fancies himself in love with." " Lill. my dear, I wish you w(uild not talk in that flighty manner aljout Sir .Mark.'' " It does seem strange to myself tliat I talk so," said Lill, a little sadly. " I had almost forgotten my old ways. You see how easily 1 am inliuenced; one person makes me good and anntlier liad." •' !My dear, what can be the mutter with you?" asked Miss ('rumptou CLOUDS. 89 "It's the horrible channo I foresee in our lives. Crunimie, that's worrj'iiif,^ inc. However, we can't talk about it just now, I must ir eager movements on foot, on horseback, in carriages, thinking that perhaps they were all straining after some luxury 92 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. some pleasure. She felt a sort of constcraation, know- mlp in ol)taining th(! reipiired ajiartnu'iits for the "Aiionyma," as she nicknamed Sir Mark's mysterious friend. She recol- Icctcd having seen a dcligiitful entresol in the Rue de la Madeleine, the very thing for a single laily. " It Inid lliin advantage, it hail /luil cninenience ; and really the CLOUDS. 93 person who wished to lot it, was so charming and de- lightlul, quite a lady. She had a son in Algiers, and the way she spoke of her dear soldier, and the way she dcscrilied her leelinoi?, the feelings of a mother separated from her son, actually made her cry," wound up Mrs. Caledon, her eyes ready to do homage again to the in teresting lodging-keeper's eloquence. Mrs. Caledon's couleur de rose representations set Lill's teeth on edge, who was just now looking at every- thing through a very black medium: with irrepressible impatience she replied, — " If it wore paradise itself, my dear Mrs. Caledon, and the landlady an angel, it can't do ; I explained to you that Sir Mark particularized that the apartment was to be near us :" she jumped up with the intention of going away. "And you really have no idea who the lady is?" in- quired Mrs. Caledon for the third time. " We have been puzzling over it all the morning," here put in Miss Crumpton. " Miss Tuftou says it can't be Mrs. Blake nor Mrs. Tufton." " Nor any one we ever heard of," interrupted Lill. Mrs. Caledon now began to discern the cloud on her young visitor's brow, and being a wonderfully penetrating woman, she guessed that it was caused by the young lady's jealousy of any strange influence over Sir Mark. Her next remark showed where her ideas were; shesaid, — " Sir Mark is certainly very young-looking of his age." " Seventy next birthday," pronounced Miss Crumpton. " Ah ! then I think you may make yourself easy about the occupant of the apartment, my dear Miss Tufton. It's not likely at that age, and it's just as well — men are so very contradictory — not to seem apprehensive of any- thing of that sort ; you understand me, dear !" No, Lill did not understand, and did not care to un- derstand ; she thought Mrs. Caledon more incoherent and more stupid than usual. Other visitors came in, and Mrs. Caledon wont through a similar ceremony to that she had used with Miss 'I'uf- ton, holding their two hands, and reproaching them with their long absence, and exclaiming at her joy in seeing them, and at thc.'r goodness in coming to see her. 94 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. In Lill's state of raiud it was like a scene in a comedy, meant to caricature the empty inflation of worldly inter- course, yet she had witnessed many similar displays without any such disgust. She must play her part though, for' Mrs. Caledon was relating how her dear young friend was seeking for a pleasant, small apartment, for a lady coming to Paris. But it must be in the Champs Elys6es. Ah ! but for that condition each of the new- comers had one to recommend. Lill hereupon deliberately rose ; Mrs. Caledon in a half pathetic voice found fault with her for being in a hurry; the last words almost doubling the length of the visit. The instant Lill returned home, she made out a list ol books, and despatched one of the footmen to Cxalignani's ; no use to bring her the first and second volumes of any- thing, she must have a whole set at once. She felt as if she should read all night. The book sent to her was. Alton Locke ; it was one that six months previous slie would never have read fifty pages of, as at that time, as we know already, she never read anything except wliat she called " interesting scenes." The page at which the book opened, at once fixed her attention. Surely these were the very same opinions she had heard at the Pon- sonbys' ; tlien there were other people, and downright English people also, who had such sentiments about the poor and the rich. Hitherto, thougli half inclined to believe that the Ponsonbys and her Italian master might be sometimes right, still in h(>r heart of hearts there iiad lurked a suspicion that their ideas were very extravagant, and terribly republican. Lill's notions, by the by. of re- publicanism were drawn from descriptions she had read of scenes in the American senate-house, and from satirical works on the habits of those on the other side of the Atlantic. In Alton Locke were the same prophecies of evils to come from tiu! terrible iiuMiualities of class and wealth, the same deprecations of the consetiuences, slie had listened to at the Ponsonbys'. The more she read, the more the conviction grew that Giuliani and the Ponson- bys were better and wiser than those of her own .society, for Lill was thoroughly patriotic, and this endorsemeul CLOUDS. 95 of thoir opinions by an Englisliman gave a validity to the sentiments of her new acquaintances. She read on till the small hours of the night, and mixing with the interest of her book, ran an under-current of vexation, sorrow, and scorn, at the pettiness of her own conduct that morning. After her bravado, too, that she should defy Sir Mark on the subject of her Italian lessons, to have lowered her flag before a shot was fired. She really could not explain to herself her sudden fit of cowardice — it had been a panic. Lill went to bed in a sort of despair, but the morning liglit inspired a more hopeful view of the case. She would go to Lady Ponsonbyand tell her the exact truth from beginning to end, and beg her ladyship to ask Mr. Giuliani to forgive and make friends with her. After having on the preceding evening viewed her faiilt as ir- reparable, she now each moment believed it easy of remedy. No sooner did she begin to be reconciled with herself, than she considered that Giuliani would be reconciled to her also. What did she know yet of those stings to a man's self-respect or self-love, which are more difficult to forgive than the theft of half one's fortune ? At breakfast Lill told Miss Crumpton of her intention to call early on Lady Ponsonby: that she should go thither in a hackney coach, and be back in time to hunt for lodgings in the afternoon. Miss Crumpton said nothing, as usual, but she ate her toast witli an air of meditation which made her silence indicative of the contrary of consent. Lill unfortunately for herself, was one of those who always, even when taking her own way, desired that those about her should approve of what she did. Many rash, even bold acts was she guilty of; but she was timid at heart, and ex- tremely alive to disapprobation. The weakest person, one for whose judgment she had no respect, and for Miss Crumpton's she certainly had none, even one against whom she rebelled as she did against Sir Mark, had nevertheless always the power to make her waver in her purposes. " Why don't you like the Ponsonbys. Crummie ?" she now asked, in consequence of the old lady's taciturn op- position. 96 WHO BKKAKS — PATS. " If I am to speak frankly, my love, because they are not like other people : really one does not know Mhat to talk to them about. Miss Ponsonby puts on a look, if one but hap})eus to speak of dress, as if it were an im- proper subject for a woman. There's always something queer about clever ladies ; and when I was a girl I re- member being advised to keep clear of them. In a book I was reading the other day it was remarked, that it was a positive blessing now-a-days to find a woman who could do nothing. Sir Mark for one cannot endure learned ladies ; and my poor father used to say, that when a woman had so much head she had precious little heart." The spell that had been cast by the old lady's silence, was broken by her locpiacity, and Lill sent for a coach and proceeded alone to call on Lady Ponsonby. Till she heard that her ladyship was at home, she had never had any doubts as to her reception ; when it flashed on her, that perhaps Mr. Giuliani had complaiiuHl of her, and they would perhaps be very angry with her, she felt inclined to run away again. "I have come to complain of your friend, Mr. Giu- liani, Lady Ponsonby," said Lill, with not a bad as- sumption of fine lady indiflereuce as she entered the room. " Indeed ! how can he have deserved your blame ?" asked her ladyship in a soft access of reproach. Alicia, who luul liut one vea and one nav, looked the serious displeasure she felt. "Now, Lady Ponsonl>y. tell me," went on Liil, " has Mr. Giuliani told you of our cpiarrel ?" " Of no quarrel, my dear child, l)ut of aliltle misunder- standing caused l>y a kind heart and a giddy head," returned her ladyship. " Yes, that is it exactly," said Lill. won into candor and gentleness by the tone of Lady Ponsonby's voice. "You take all nauglitiness out of me, dear Lady Pon- 8onl)y. J>ut I meant no harm, no disrespect to Mr. Giuliani, I assure you." I am certain you did not: but why make any mystery of so simple an act as having a few Italian lessons? "You don't know Sir Mark, Lady Ponsonby:" here CLOUDS. 97 there was a little panse. "May I tell you quite the truth, you won't be angry, nor Miss Ponsonby neither ?" Encouragcfl by icindly assurances lAW said, " I wanted to help Mr. Giuliani; I have never done any good in my life, and 1 wished to make up to him for having forced him to buy that foolish opera ticket; and Sir Mark would have insulted him, had he met him giving me lessons, perhaps, not even let me pay him :" Lill's delicate complexion crimsoned more and more with every word she spoke. " I don't know how it is," she added, "but everything I try to do right, turns out wrong : I am so sorry." " Poor child ! I am sure you are ; I will undertake to set everything right between you and Mr. Giuliani." " You must not tell him that I took the lessons to give him, money — oh ! pray don't ; I would rather he thought ill of me all my life." " You are a dear, generous-hearted creature," said Lady Ponsonby. " Trust me, my child, I will not hurt our friend's feelings ; I believe he will be so comforted to have you vindicated, that he will not be at all sensi- tive as to your wish to assist him. Have you no idea how painful it is to suspect a friend of being unworthy of our esteem ?" " You don't think he will mind my trying to help him ?" " Not at all," interrupted Alicia. " Mr. Giuliani gave you instruction against its current price in francs. He is therefore under no obligation : you did not give him money without having more than an equivalent. His is a commerce as respectable as any in the world, though perhaps the least lucrative. And as to his feeling any inferiority, because he is a teacher — I confess / feel the superiority to be all on his side, inasmuch as knowledge and the experiences of a hard-spent but honorable life are superior to the white paper of a girlish mind. I don't ask you to adopt my theories, however ; indeed one is always wrong to borrow other people's ideas." " I never dreamed of Mr. Giuliani's being inferior to me, Miss Ponsonby ; I know he is a gentleman born. I am very sorry for the instant's pain I gave ; and I would ask his pardon, but he will not give me an opportunity," 9 98 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " There is no necessity for making windmills inta giants," said Lady Ponsonby ; " and that is what I think we are doing now." " Tell Mr. Giuliani, I do beg he will come and see me," was Lill Tufton's whispered request as she took leave of Lady Ponsonby. MAN PROPOSES. 99 CHAPTER XV. Man proposes. In answer to Lady Ponsonby's explanation, Giuliani eplicd : " I see that in being so angry I have been more childish than my poor pupil. It is better to be born lucky than wise ; and Miss Tuiton and I have had a fortunate escape out of a false position. Be so good, my dear friend, as to make my a])ologies to the young lady for my rough behaviour, and assure her of my en- tire respect." When he was gone Alicia observed : " He feels it more than he would have it imagined." " Better the acquaintance should end now than later," said her mother. " It is not this rupture that will end it," was what Alicia thought, but did not say. This explanation, coupled with several messages from Lill, caused the Italian a great contention of mind. His excessive annoyance at her conduct supplied a gauge by which he could measure the attraction she had for him. He was no boy, unaccustomed to reflect on his actions and to weigh their probable consequences. He turned the subject, therefore, of any further intercourse with Miss rufton round and round, viewing it in many lights. Though a man not to abuse the opportunities afforded him as a teacher, yet once freed from the re- sponsibility of what he considered a post of confidence, nothing but his own will need prevent him from openly wooing her, as any other man of her acquaintance might do. In seeking her love, he should break none of God's commandments,, he made light of the world's law, that none but the rich should mate with the rich. Except in fortune there was no other inequality of circumstances between them. He was as well born, as well educated. Giuliani had no want of manly self-reliance. He would have no fear to take a woman's hand in his, and bid her trust to him for everything; he was capable of gaining the daily bread of two as well of one. But not that of a woman like Sir Mark's granddaughter ; the 100 WHO BREAKS — PATS. whole of the emoluments of that professorship he ex- pected shortly to be oftercd to hira, would not suffice to procure her the half of the daily comforts she was ac- customed to, setting aside the luxuries. There was nothing of morbid punctiliousness, nor of overstrained, sickly sensibility, when, after summing up the pleadings of his judgment against those of his heart, he decided on avoiding beautiful Miss Tufton for tha future. The recollection of her sweet face, her winning voice, her pretty playful ways, went with him wherever he went. Charming,"^ most charming as she was, dear, most dear, as she was ; gentle, nay, he might without lack of reverence for her, add, encouraging as her man ner to him had been, he nevertheless would renounctj all effort to win her. The barrier built up by their different ways of thinking, by their different appreciation of things, by their different habits and requirements, by their nuitual national prejudices, strong in both, was one that love would never overthrow. He allowed to himself that there was small hope of such discord beinjj resolvable into harmony. He should fail to make her happy. Love combated love. The idea of her having to suffer in the future, opposed his desires in the present If not wholly responsible for the birth of his passion,^ h arrives lie will call on you." "Thank you," said Giuliani, with an embarrassracn WOMAN DISPOSES. 103 that took the appcanuioe of pride. " Tliank j-ou ; Init 1 must decline the houuiir of a visit from Sir Mark." "Then you have not really forgiven me. I will tell him about the lessons, quite candidly." This promise, made with the intention of pleasing him, for he was pretty sure it would be a real self-sacri- fice to confess what she had done to Sir Mark, threw Giuliani off his guard. Did she, then, care so much for his society ? It was Giuliani's turn to change colour ; his dark complexion grew darker, and a brown ring encircled hia eyes. Joy rushed into his soul ; softened it ; laid it oi^en to temptation ; he made one more struggle. Lill's eyes looked at him with some surprise. " Miss Tufton," he said, " I am not ungrateful for your kindness, even though I cannot accept it. It would be a legal fiction, Sir Mark Tufton's calling on me. You know, and I know, the estimate he has of me, and of my present position. Perhaps I have a morbid susceptibility ; will you be without compassion for my weakness ? Come, you owe me some indulgence. I was not a severe master." lie spoke gaily, but his real dejection pierced through the thin disguise. " I3ut if you mean never to come and see me, then there is an end to our acquaintance," said pertinacious Lill, glancing round the room to avoid looking at him ; she missed Alicia and spoke more at her ease. " Mr. Giuliani, why do you choose to be an Italian master ?" " Necessity, not choice, makes me one." Lill moved her shoulders with the contradicting jerk of an impatient child. " And do you mean to continue to be one all your life? Have you, who profess to think so much of friciidshi]), no feeling for the mortification you may give your friends and relations ?" He laughed. "As for relations, it is droll you should invoke my forbearance towards mine ; they who Iiave never troubled their heads as to whether I starved or not; and as to friends, dear young lady, I am afraid you confuse them 104 WHO BREAKS — PATS. with the mere companions of an hour. Friendship d». peuds on esteem and respect, and should I not inevitably lose yours and my own if I became, under the circum- stances, one of Sir Mark Tuftou's visitors ?" '• I don't see the force of your objection ; but you are determined to quarrel with me," w^as Lill's answer. She was pained and mortified. To persist any longer would be demeaning herself; she turned away. Giuliani's firmness was not proof against the idea of her leaving him in anger. An evil fate lured him to say, — " Be sure. Miss Tufton, that if you should ever stand in need of the services of a devoted friend you will find one in me." '' Nonsense," she exclaimed, sharply ; " I am not likely to fall into the water to be pulled out by you, or my horse to run away with me, just so that yon should be on the road to stop it. nor to be in a house on fire, where you will come in the angelic shape of a fireman to rescue me. I don't want that sort of friendship which is to come out once in a life, like coronation trappings. I want society, and sympathy, and confidence, such as I see you give the Ponsonliys." " I have been intimate in this house for years ; and besides your orbit and mine. Miss Tufton. are cast too far apart to allow of the iulercourse you describe." " You put me out of all patience, Mr. Giuliani, with your prudent diplomatic words." ile was silent. Here a sudden thought flashed upon Lill, and with her usual impulsiveness she added, — "May I ask you one question?" he bowed. "Are you and Miss Ponsonby engaged to be married ?" " God bless me, no," replied Giuliani, with frank alacrity. Alicia, in the next room, with the door open between, heard this prompt, decided answer. " You seem to like her very much." " Certainly ; tiiere is a great conformity of tastes and opinions between us." " Can you not have the courage to speak out jdainly for once, Mr. (iinliani ?" said Lill, with growing asperity "How 1 do hate and despise caution 1" WOMAN DISPOSES 105 " Why, what in the name of heaven would you have me say ?" asked he, with a half smile. " I do not know myself what my feelings might have been with regard to Miss Fonsouby had 1 ever allowed myself to dwell on the possibility of my having the blessing of a companion. I am too poor to marry; I would never marry a woman richer than myself; and I am too clear-sighted not to be aware that the whole of my yearly gains would not sufiBce to furnish the mere ornaments ladies thirk so necessary," and his eye glanced casually at the bracelets Lill was wearing. Lill impetuously unclasped the two rich bracelets, and flung them into the fire, saying, — " Ladies may wear them and not value them." "Childish!" exclaimed Giuliani ; but his face flushed, and his heart beat violently : he had a fierce struggle with himself not to fall at the feet of the passionate, generous girl, so unconscious of the interpretation that might be given to this action. "If 1 am childish, you are vindictive, like all Italians; you can't forgive me for what in truth was meant kindly." Her voice had that peculiar break in it which tells of repressed emotion ; it forced itself into the very citadel of his will. " You are mistaken in every one of your conclusions," he began, with some heat ; " there is nothing but good will towards you in my heart. Miss Tufton; but no woman of sense and spirit would require a man she esteemed to Eut aside his own judgment, and be a puppet in her ands." Lill's impetuosity was overmastered by Giuliani's earnestness ; she shrank from him with intuitive alarm. Her softly sighed, " Oh, no !" to his question, and her alteration of colour changed his mood. He asked himself hastily, " Was this use of feints to escape danger nuuily ?" Passion is the greatest of all sophists, making men and women do the thing they would not, and leave undone the thing they would. "Speak out like a man," urged Passion, on Giuliani; "it's the only way of extricating yourself honourably from your dilficulty." Passion, to seduce her victim, took the form of Reason. 106 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. However others may make us suffer we ought always to remember that the fault is never confined entirely to one side ; we may be sure some laxity of our own mixes in the matter. Mr. Giuliani had always respected his own strength of purpose, and struck hard on any feeble- ness he saw in others. He lived to be more indul- gent. He now fixed his eyes firmly on those of Lill, keeping them by the force of his will all the time he spoke riveted to his own. His voice was firm, but the lurid red of his complexion showed the storm within. '■ I will be your daily, constant visitor. Miss Tufton, if you desire it, after you have listened to me for five min- utes. I will not skirmish any longer with you. In plain words, Miss Tufton, I love you — you start — I have no eloquence to wrap ray meaning in. What I feel, if I speak at all, 1 speak candidly, and without palliatives. You wonder at my audacity ; but," and he went on with increasing force. " a whole, an undivided heart is a precious gift, that does not fall in a woman's way often. Riches, beauty, station may all vanish; a true heart knows no change. If you think mine worth having, take it. Have no fears for the future ; I will bear you through life more tenderly and softly than you have yet any idea of; if not, bid me go." Words read cold that spoken can cleave their way ir- resistible through the thickest coat of mail to the heart addressed. Lill trembled not so much at what Giuliani said, as at the travail of soul that looked out of the depths of his eyes into hers, as he laid his fate in her hands. Herwhole consciousness merged into the one idea of his pain. She could not bear it. and with no other thought Ihan of lhat,,«ihe remained stamling by his side; remained willingly standing i)y his side ; her colour going and coming, lovelier than he had ever seen her; his soul was entranced by her beauty. He did not know her Christian name, or it would have sprung from his lips; some inarticulate sound did come from them, more ex- pressive than any clearly uttered syllable. " Arr. I to go?" he said, after a pause that seemed in- terminable to both. "1—1— don't know," she stammered. He studied her WOMAN DISPOSES. 107 face with all the little presence of mind left him ; her eyelashes were heavy with uufallen tears. ""X our peace before all other things," he said : " God bless you, Misa Tid'ton." " No, don't g'O in that way, Mr. Giuliani. I cannot bear you should go .away so." " 1 have no wish to hurry you," he said coldly. " Pray, pray, don't speak to nie in that tone," said Lill. " I don't deserve it — indeed I don't." " I take God to witness, I would not even for the pos- session of your hand, hurry you ; but I am sure of this, if you hesitate, you should say no. Resist the pity I see your gentle heart is moved by. Pity is not akin to love — at least I refuse all love so born. Go home, Miss Tufton, and of all I have said, remember only, that you have one more firm friend in the world." Lill was thoroughly overcome by this resignation ; she did what an inexperienced, warm-hearted girl would do, when the man so speaking was one whom she held as a sort of hero. She put out her hand to him with a deep blush, and the long repressed tear-drops rolled freely over her cheeks. Giuliani took the pledge thus proffered with a feeling more allied to pain than joy. He felt more as if he had caught or snared some lovely timid thing, than that the timid, lovely thing had come with its large loving eyes, willingly to his arms for love and safety. That moment, single in man or woman's life, when heart goes spon- taneously to heart, that moment which ought to have weighed them to the earth with its freight of bliss, kept them standing hand in hand like traflickers, sealing a bargain. At last he raised her hand to his lips : — - " It is an awful rcsponsibiliy," he said, " to take upon one-self to influence the fate of a fellow-being. God do so unto me as I am true to you. Be you so to me. If you repent of your goodness to me this day, tell me so — even at the foot of the altar:" with a sudden, unusual violence, he added, — " I am an excellent friend, but a demon of a lover." The sound of a key turning in the lock of the outer door of the apartment, made Lill snatch her hand from Giuliani's, and seat herself on the nearest sofa. Lady 108 WHO BREAKS — PATS. Ponsonby came in serene and smiling as usual — hu* stopped and asked in some surprise, — " Where is Alicia ?" Giuliani and Lill had forgotten Miss Ponsonby ; she had slipped into an adjoining room, when the tone of their conversation became one to which no third person is ever willingly a party. Giuliani, like men in general, had a special horror of explanations, which might involve any display of emotion on his part ; he had no idea that he could do anything but give a straightforward account of what had just passed, had no conception that Lady Ponsonby was acute enough to comprehend the situation without words. So with a hasty muttering of want of time, and one anxious look at Lill, in the hope of one in return, he fled. " Well, my dear," began Lady Ponsonby to the silent young lady, the transparent evenness of whose checks was troubled by agitation, " Well, you have made peace with Mr. Giuliani, I see." Without asking how Lady Ponsonby perceived this, Lill burst out crying ; Lady Pi)nsonby sat down by her, and taking one of the little hands, began stroking it in a soothing, caressing way. Not understanding that her new secret was no secret for her friend, Lill exclaimed, — '• I am stupidly nervous to-day, I'll go home now, and come back some other day." 8he threw her arm round Lady Ponsonby's neck, kissing her with tliat energy which betrays an inward craving for help, l^ady P(ins(iiil)y gave a caress in re- turn, full of promise of the help demanded, and without a further question lot Lill go. As soun as the visitor was gone, Alicia came from the next room. Lady Ponsonljy was about to speak, but the words died on her lips at the siglit of lu'r ilangliler's face, cpiite bloodless, with a certain stony look about her mouth. Alicia said, — " My dear mother, you look at me as if I were a ghost." The voice was composed, but hard, as if it came from a dry Ihroat, or from that of a person who has been for WOMAN DISPOSES. 109 hours silent. It cleared quickly as she went on. " I had to leave tlie door open between the rooms, that I might be close at hand, in case of some one coming in -who might gossip about the iUe-oL-t^te. I had no choice left but to overhear their conversation." Lady Ponsonby could not give her attention to what Alicia was saying. For the first time a most painful suspicion had entered her mind. Was it possible that under that usually calm exterior lurked concentrated passion? Her suspicion became certainty, as Alicia went on with tight-drawn lips : " He told her he loved her ; it was quite natural she should do as she has done. She is a more generous- hearted girl than T fancied ; he bid her beware of her pity misleading her — it has misled them both. Oh, mother ! how I wish she could have really loved him, but — " here the speaker's fortitude, strong against her own sorrow, gave way when fearing sorrow for him. Lady Ponsonby took her daughter into her arms, and Alicia lay there, as one thankful for so sure a haven ; she whispered, — " Always his friend, mother, whatever happens." " Always, my daughter," said the mother, fervently. How well a mother knows how best to comfort her child i 110 WHO BREAKS PAYS. CHAPTER XYII. Yes or No ? And Lill, what were her feelings during her drive home ? They were mute, quite mute, except insomuch as she was longing to be in her own room locked in, sure of no interruption, so that she might think, — she wanted to think, to get rid of the confusion in her mind; no possibility of thinking in such a distracting noise. The carriage was driving along the Champs Elys6es, bright with that air of universal rejoicing which a fine day in early spring is sure to impart. Leaves open and flicker like gold in the sunlight, birds twitter and bury themselves in the dust and quarrel, children laugh and shout and scamper, horses caper, shrill trumpets, tink- ling bells, mingle with street cries in unmusical but cheerful chorus. The sound of " plaisirs, plaisirs, mes- dames," came back in all her after days of sorrow. Miss Crnm])ton's broad face within its wide aureole of lace and ribl)on was looking forth as Lill alighted. It appeared to greet her at the outer door of the apart- ment, " I am so glad to see you, my dear ; I was growing uneasy." " Can't I be away two hours without your fretting ? one would almost be glad not to be cared about," said Lill peevishly : she was thoroughly unhinged, poor thing. Miss Crumpton made no reply, and went quietly back to the salon. Lill, sorry that she had been cross, but too cross to say so, opened her room door; Ruth was sitting there at work. " Oh ! dear, it seems one can never be alone," cried Lill. " No, 1 don't want you to take off my cloak," continufMl she to licr maid. " I have put out your grey silk for dinner, Miss Tufton." "1 shan't change my dress; do go away, Ruth; I really should be glad if 1 iniglit have a quarter of an hour to myself." Ruth gathered up her work with the method and caro of a well-trained lady's-maid >vbose business is with her TES OR NO ? Ill mistress's wardrobe, and not witli her mistress's moods. Lill was read J- to talvC the girl by the slioulders and turn her out of the room ; her slowness was exasperating. " At last !" and the door is double-locked, the bonnet tossed off, and Lill lies back in a large chair. She has quiet enough to think in; she tries, but it is as difficult to think to any purpose now as it was in the bustle of the Champs Elys6es. It was by an exertion of will, however, that one distinct impression was kept under ; she dared not acknowledge it, — it would be wicked, cruel : the mischief was done, and she must abide by it. What could have made her ask that question about Miss Ponsonby ? It was that which brought it all on. It must have made him think she cared for him : heavens ! and did she not ? Then came a crowd of images, whirling and toppling over one another ; everything that had been in her world was turned topsy-turvy. " Is it possible that it is dinner-time ?" asks Lill, as Kuth knocks at the door to tell her that dinner is on the table. All through dinner Lill sat absorbed in the effort to think ; she said, " Yes," and " no," to Miss Crumpton's observations, nevertheless, with a tolerable correctness. After dinner, with the excuse of a headache, she coiled herself on the most distant sofa from her chaperone, and once more gave herself up to the hard task of thinking. Some distracting questions presented themselves. What would Mr. Giuliani expect her to do now ? What would he do ? Tell Sir Mark ? That was one thing she might be certain of. And the consequences ? Well, she had brought them on herself, and she must take them, what- ever they were. No doubt she would be called a fool, — perhaps she had been one. He was a very good man, far better than she Avas, — very clever and very much respected ; he couldn't be mistaken, thank heavens, for aught but a gentleman. It was very odd that such a marriage should be her fate; it was about as unlikely a thing as could have been conceived. She recollected how she used to long for her lessons ; she had really been unhappy when he had quarreled with her, and yet she certainly was not happy now ; perhaps it was because 112 WHO BREAKS — PATS. she was frightened at the idea of what Sir Mark might say or do. Lady Ponsonby would know, and Alicia, and they would come and congratulate her ; at all events, they would approve of her. Whenever Lill thought of Mr. Giuliani in connection with the Ponsonbys, her spirit rose, she steadied herself by leaning on their liking and estimation of (Jiuliani — she even felt elated at having won the hero of their circle. A TRUE I-OVER. IIJ CHAPTER XYIIT. A True Lover. This earth had siifTered no chanj^e for Mr. Giuliani, when he went forth from Lady Ponaonby's house ; the air was not full of music, nor did he perceive in it am- brosial odours, his step was not elate, nor his head erect with the triuniplumt air of one who has been admitted into the beloved one's heart. There was nothing about him which said to the passers-by, " Look at me ; she, that lovely one, at whose feet the greatest might be proud to kneel, is my affianced bride ; she has laid her email dimpled hand in my broad palm, has accepted my arm for the support of her life." No, certainly the world had no peculiar air of glad- ness for Giuliani, nor ho for the world. ITe found no difficulty in thinking with pitiless logic over what had occurred during the last hour ; every gesture and word of Lill's in that portentous conversation were present to him, and perseveringly accompanied by the presenti- ment of a coming new misery in his life. He was pur- sued by that look of timid pity he had caught, as it entered her eyes, when he told her that he loved her ; it was harder to bear than her letting him go without even a parting glance. His pupils of that day thought him sterner and more difficult to please than usual. One little girl, full of tricks as a pet monkey, had the glory of making him really angry ; the possibility of accomplishing which had been hitherto doubted by his classes. As he left the school he laughed inwardly. Prepos- terous ! the idea of his being the accepted husl^and of that tine lady ^liss Tufton. Had he been mad or drunk, when he proposed anything so monstrously out of nature? He was ashamed of himself and ashamed for her also; could not a woman then resist a man's importunity? Was audacity tlie one thing needful to obtain her ? Giu- liani was very bitter that evening; he was mortified at having let himself be carried away by the impetuous curreni of his own passions ; he would have been grate 10* 114 WHO BREAKS — PATS. ful to licr; would have ))]acocl lier on a pedestal licyond all other hunian beings, had she had the courage to with- stand the weakness of her oAvn pity. He sunk in his own osliination when he probed his heart and brought himself to confess, that it had been conquered by her beauty, that he could not sec that softly rounded cheek with a colour like that of the outer petals of a rose, those liquid eyes of the dark blue of Italy's heaven, the slender, exquisitely rounded throat, the graceful little form, without his soul's firmness melt- ing as wax in the sun. He worshipped the perfect temple without having learned what gods dwelt within. For a time he took a revengeful pleasure in bespattering himself with the mud of mean motives. But the nearer the hour to midnight the more fervently his imagination worked, nor was liis will at last strong enough to thrust away Lill's image. She was so young, so inexperienced; what wonder if she should be afraid to step beyond the limits of those conventionalities she had been bred up to respect ! He had dene her great injustice and conse- quently himself. AVhy had he said he was ignorant of all but her most perfect exterior? Had he not had instances of her being gentle, pitiful, teachable ? He (inarrelled with her l>itying eyes, had wished them haughty and forbidding, had wished her to show herself unwomanly, because he had made a fool of himself. Once on this track, his fancy, leaving fears far behind, devoured space at a gallop towards hope. After all these turns and twists of feeling and thought, wearied in mind and l)ody, d'iuliani slept more soundly than usual. A good night's rest and a bright morning are very efficient aids in heljjing mortals to a healthy view of their position, and to making a healthy resolu- tioti. (iiuliani got up with a clear perception of what he owed Lill. Respect had always been her due from him, in)w he owed her the homage of a loyal lover. What though the world would stamp his olTer as absurd and audacious ? what though his attic was the antiixules of her lordly dwelling? she had seemed to think his lovo might span the gulf lietween them, therefore no prompt- ings of self-love should deter him from upholding the claim ahu had allowed A TRUE LOVEK. 115 It would be unmanly to leave her in a dilemma, or without a clear understanding of her position. Jn tlio circumstances, the best course was to write to Miss Tiii'ton; easy to decide, difficult 1o execute. He sat a long time, pen in hand, before he wrote a a syllable; then the three lines accomplished were de- stroyed. He took a turn up and down his little salon. He had a rather heroic air in his red-lined robe de cham- bre : its colour threw out, in good relief, his black hair and beard, and by its flowing outlines gave breadth to his thin figure. He takes down his pipe, not for inspi- ration, but for soothing — tobacco is a calmer. Pie lays it aside lest the odour should attach itself to his writing- paper ; he is again at the table, on which is spread the thick cloth, good, kind Lady Ponsonby's present. As he leans his elbow on it, he cannot but think of that ex- cellent friend of the cheerful aspect. His heart softens unusually towards the whole Ponsonby family, 'i'he thought intrudes unwillingly and involuntarily, that had he been about to address his letter to Alicia, he should not have felt that there was the same discrepancy of Fituation between her and him. The fingers of his left hand twisting his beard, he sat on, musing on the contrariness of human beings, who will not pluck the good fruit within reach, but must climb the tree for that which, when attained, is found to be inferior in flavour. The letter advanced not a line for this new chain of thought ; nine o'clock, and he ought to be out by ten. It must be written, however, and in Englisli, in case she might wish to consult Miss Crunipton ; a smile relaxed his face at the thought of the chaperone's astonished horror, if his letter were presented to lier for perusal. He could not even help himself by writing, "My dear Miss Tufton ;" that was too little between them now, and he did not choose to hazard any more endearing term, until he had more solid ground for believing such would be acceptable. Again, it was difficult to press upon her anew what he had urged yesterday, that if she repented of her goodness to him, to consider herself free ; such persistence might assume the semblance of backward- ness on his part. Undoubtedly an interview would have 116 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. less chance of giving her this faulty im])ression ; but as he was not playing a double game with his conscience, he shrank from tlie witchery of her presence ; certain it would again mi.'^lead him. and make him utter words foreign to his iutentiun, and that he should leave her as full of doubts and misgivings (on her account, mark) as he was now. It is not in the moments of our sharpest anguish, or most ardent desires, that we are ever most eloquent. There must be self-possession to write or speak with grace and eti'ect ; and in this moment not an atom of Giuliani's moral or physical being but was en- gaged in combat with another force. Thus it came to pass, that after plunging for the twentieth time Iws pen into his inkstand, he resolutely set to his difficult task. The passionate thoroughness of his love hid itself at first under a little pedantry, and never rose above the earnestness of a friend. Before eleven, the letter was in Lill's hand. ALL OR XOTHINQ. Ill CHAPTER XIX. All or Nothing. Only yesterday ! thonj^ht Lill, as she awoke next iiioniin":. All iiulelinitc period seemed to her to separate herself of to-day from herself of the day before. Her first sensations were the continuation of the last of the eveninp: before. She had done with her world of hitlierto ; that morning she entered a new one. A desire, till this moment unknown — a desire for guidance — was one of the effects of this change of atmosphere. Lill had never before experienced any doubt that she was able to pilot herself and others, through the most difTicult straits; she had always carried her point willi a high hand, even with Sir Mark. She would have been mightily indignant Lad she been told that she now had an inclination to ask a^d from the persons she most desjiised, or that she sor- rowed over the want of those family ties she had hillierfo only considered in the light of tormenting limits to inde- pendence ; they might be occasionally obstacles in the way of a free course; but with a growing experience, she discerned that they also might be a welcome shelter. Never till now had she discovered her real loneliness. She had talked of friends and friendships, had written long letters, and received longer ones, with the inevitable garnishings of "dearest" and "darlings," profusely strewed from beginning to end. Yet in this crisis, she had, and she well knew it, of honest and sincere souls to depend on, none but her old cousin, to whom she had the sort of afVection we give a favourite spaniel, because we are flattered by his slavish lidclity. Just at the moment Lill was feeling that she was a very friendless creature, and moreover sore to think she was so. (Jiuliani's letter was handed to her. The sight of his handwriting stirrcnl her as though it had been a supernatural reproof to her thoughts. She had a friend — a very different one from poorCrummie — a friend, and not the mere shadow of one, Lill was not much versed in delinitions, but she had an intuition of the nullity and unchangeableness of (jiuliani's sentiments. With more 118 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. complaisant feelings than the writer had dared to expect, she brolve the seal and read the contents. How unlike the man and his emotions were the first lines I " May your dreams last night have proceeded from the ivory door, and pleasant visions have soothed any unrest an importunate friend may have caused you ! " I told you yesterday in my hard pride, that I would have no love born of pity. Sweet one, to-day I will take your pity without your love ! and yet my love in the uight past has grown as immeasurably as did Jonah's gourd. It burst from the silent calyx of my heart ; it bloomed at once into a hundred-leaved flower. I am troubled with anxiety for you. Your eyes with their pitying look haunt me ; it is not clear to me, that your heart is drawn towards mine. A great fear has come upon me : for I love you for yourself, not for my own pleasure. Yuu are so young, so inex})erienccd, so friendless. To others you may be one of the fortunate ones of this world ; to me you have seemed, ever since yon were my pupil, as a pretty, uncarcd-fur blossom. My soul yearned over you with a father's, a brother's tender ness. It is in one or other of these characters 1 now address you, pleading, not against myself, but as counsel for yon, in this great crisis of your life. '•ilaving listened to a proposition of marriage — listened for the first time, as I gathered from the alarm in your face — it beconu>s the duty of the friendly counsel, who stands in lieu of parents and brethren, to make you un- derstand what marriage means. It is not an al)struse subject requiring a long commentary ; it sinqjly means, conseyif, the entire consent of two beings to belong en- tirely (for better for worse) to each other. You under- stand this coupling together may be like that of galley-slaves — the dead to the living — the executioner to the condemned; or it may be like the heavenly king- dom, wliere weariness and sorrow are to find their rest and consolation. So far your counsel. 1 now speak to you in my own name. Wifehood is synonymous with heroism; slie who enters that order engages herself to li('l|), to redress all her liusltand's injuries by her sweet uiinihtraliou.s. ALL OR NOTHING. 119 " Sorrow and dc had been (piiti* as much at his ease. Had he covered his head with ashes, and his shoulders with sackcloth, been silent or spoken in a doleut voice, Lill would have found him equally in ihe wrong. ]Ie had. ]ioor fellow, one irreparable fault, really an nni)ardonable oni' for her — he liad not l)een able to make lier love him. lie was, however, most excusal)le in not himself suspecting it, when of iicr own free will she had conu? to Lady I'onsonby's that evening. She liad yielded, indeed, lialf to I lie inllumce he did possess over her, half to lier own vi\iil imagination; and licr present dis- FEMME QUI ECOUTE. 123 turbance proceeded from the alternate attraction ant! reijulsion lie had I'or her. She scarcely kcew what she was saying when he at last crossed over to where she was ; she supposed she must shake hands with him. The indillereiice she had heard in his voice, she certainly could not attril)ute to his eyes ; nor did his tremulous pressure of her hand express exactly superabundance of calmness. He sat down and talked to her with serious pleasant- ness and as he talked aa air of repose spread itself over him. He relaxed from head to foot, like one who, having had his heart's full desire granted, is at rest in soul and body — an impression seldom given by men, who when conversing in society, have the look rather of prisoners on the watch to escape. Not a word but that the whole party might hear, and yet Lill felt that he would not have spoken so to any other than herself, (iradually the subtle influence of a strong love subjected her, and the feverish irritation of her humour was lulled. Her headv no longer pendent like a droojiiug flower, rose on the flexible, arched throat, the lovely face turned full to him ; the blue eyes thanked him for setting her at peace witli herself. Mdlle. ArseniefT and Miss Crumpton were the only two of Lady Ponsonljy's guests whose curiosity was aM-akened by Mr. (jinliani's so completely engrossing Miss Tufton's attention. It was one of the Italian's peculiarities, whatever he might be doing, to see all that went on round him. Alicia had often remarked, "Mr. (Jiuliaui sees with the back of his head ; I believe nothing escapes him. With- out appearing to look, he knows how every woman is dressed in any room he goes into." Miss Ponsonby spoke feelingly, being conscious of her own failings in that respect — carelessness as to dress. Lill's elegant nicety was one of her special attractions for Giuliani. What he did remark this evening was, that Mdlle. Ar- senieff and Miss Crumpton were watching him and Miss Tufton; Miss Crumpton in fidgety silence, and Mdlle. Arsenieff more demonstratively by hovering incessantly in their neighborhood. The Russian discovered once that they were talking of horses, and she came near 124 WHO BREAKS — PATS. enough to hoar ; Giuliani was saying he did not like to see a woman on horseback, the sight alarmed without pleasing him. The next topic of their tite-d-iSte she dis- covered to be birds and flowers. Nevertheless, in spite of Mdlle. ArseniefiF's active surveillance, Giuliani did find a moment to saj' unheard to Lill, " Miss Crumpton ought to be in our confidence." These words made Lill as hot as fire for a momentary interval ; she hud another of those prompt, vehement inward agitations which might pass for divine inspira- tion. She had only courage to say to herself, " Too late." To Giuliani the deep crimson flush that covered her face and throat was a most ecstatic vision. His sharp sight was of no use to him iiere. " He hurries me too much," was the meaning of that blush. Women's emotions are always complex, not seldom inexplicable to themselves. lie gazed with grateful confidingness at her; suspense, conjecture, doui)t, had ended from the moment she had entered Lady Ponsonby's salon. As Lill's blush faded, and her silence continued, Giuliani took another favourable opportunity to ask, — " May I pay you a visit to-morrow evening ? Sunday is my only free day." " Why not call after church ?" inquired Lill. "First, l»ecause I ought to go a little way from Paris to visit the friend wlio is canvassing for a professorsliip for me, and then in the forenoon you may have visitors ; and am I verj exacting, in wishing to sec you for a half hour alone ?" "But what will Miss Crumpton think?" " Why shoidd she be left to conjecture? Tell her the truth." "That is not porliaps so easy," was the rather pettish rejoiner. Giuliani was that evening ovorflowing with the milk of human kindness, happy to have to exercise patience with her. "Suppose you allow nie to tell Iier — it is my right now to save you any troubli'." Lill shook her head. "No, she will bear it bellcr from me." That was (he eml of their conversation 'or liiat even. KEMME QUI ^COCTE. 125 ing. Lady Ponsonby called away CJiuliani purposely, to preveat oiricious remarks, aud Alicia cainc to Lill's side. Frobahly Alicia liad never before tried so hard to make herself ag-reeable 1o any one as she now did to Lill. A3 (jriuliaai's betrothed, Lill was to her the interesting' per- son, which as MissTufton. a mere young- lady of fashion, she could not be. Alicia's stern heart softened with something of maternal tenderness to the delicate nurtured girl, who had agreed to cast in lior lot with that of the rugged patriot. Alicia herself, with her high ideas of Giuliani's worth, of his talents, and of the grandeur of the cause lie supported, yet could not resist a little sur- prise that the brilliant fairy had consented to turn sim- ple mortal for him. Alicia could not fancy Lill in the homely dress suited to the fortunes of Giuliani's wife — (iould not imagine her in the tiny attic salon. Little fanciful as she was by nature, legends of the fatal des- tiny of all mortals who had sylphs or demigoddesses for wives came into her head. But Lill's sentiments for Miss Ponsonby had under- gone no sympathetic change. She had discerned at the first the backwardness and the shade of mistrust scarcely recognized by Alicia's self; besides. Miss Ponsonby's and Giuliani's respect and friendship for each other, far from creating any corresponding friendliness in Lill, was likely, in her present state of fluctuation, to produce more decided hostility. Alicia, all unused as she was to talk of theatres or other diversions, reproduced as she thought, with toler- able fluency, what she had gathered from Valentine and others; Lill listened and answered with a smile — an in- definable smile, Giuliani considered it so, for, though some way oQ", his eye seldom wandered from the lovely young creature. In an obligatory pause, for Alicia had come to au end of her fashionable news, Lill said, — " Now ril try and talk politics, or of Italy, and the patriots, and independence — try to raise my intellect to your level, in return for your kindness in coming down to mine." Alicia was petrified. " I do care for some other subjects than dress and 11* 126 WHO RRKAKS — PATS. anmsement," went oa liiU ; "Ihope some day you will do me more justice." Alicia could not, of course, sjuess what a lelief it was to Lill to let lier petulance have its way. It was the sting of an insect struggling for liberty. On taking leave of Lady Ponsonby's, Lill found Giu- liani again by her side. Valentine was there also, but he had to retreat, so pointedly did Giuliani offer his arm to the young lady. As they went down the stairs, Giuliani took her hand iu his. " I almost wish I could die to-night." he said. She turned with a gesture of surprise towards him. " It is my happiest moment," he added and raising her hand, he pressed his lips on the delicate wrist. Her pulse was as calm as that of a sleeping child. Valentine and Miss Crumpton had both a glimpse of Giuliani's actions; Valentine believed his eyes. Miss Crumpton doubted hers. When Valentine returned to his mother's sa/oj?, Mdlle. Arsenieff was saying, in her clear voice, to Alicia, with little care who overheard her, — " Pray, is there not something between Mr. Giuliani and la belle Avglaise?" Alicia answered : " I am not in their confidence." "They two are fire and water," said Mdme. de Roche- pont de llivifere, " and the something that will be between them will be thunder and lightning. However, thank goodness, they have not chosen me as confidant, so I slian't be the worse for it. Good-night." Miss Crumpton sat silent during the drive home. What her mightiest efforts of speech would not have ac- coinplislied, her silence won. Before she went to bed Lill confessed to Miss Crumpton that she was engaged to Mr. Giuliani. The old lady, though she had more than suspected the fact, when her dread was confirmed refused to credit her ears any more than she had done her eyes a few minutes before. " He's a downright villain!" burst forth the alarmed chaperone; "and so I'll tell him : stealing into jjeoplc's liouscs, and making his own of them. Oh! 1 always did hate foreigners." FEMME QUI ECOUTE. 12? "You are talkiiii;- infinite nonsense, Crnmmie," Ijill repliod ; " if you wish to call any one bad names, or to accuse any one, i)ray let it be me. Truth, dear old lady, helps a cause mif^htily. I begged Mr. Giuliani to come to this house, and he did not try to make me like him." "I don't believe you do like him — you can't — it's against nature !" exclaimed Miss Crumpton, with a gesture of despair, which set her cap all awry. " Don't storm about it, it won't do any good," said Lill, with a quietness unusual in her ; " I don't wish to put Ruth in our confidence. There, read that, and you'll fiee that 1 have not wanted for good advice." Lill while speaking had taken Giuliani's letter out of her desk, and given it to Miss Crumpton. During the time Miss Crumpton was reading it, Lill sat very still, her eyes on the old lady. " He knew the way to take to make you say ' yes, " was the indignant spinster's commentary; "tell you not to do a thing, and you will be sure to do it." " Thank you," said Lill. " Didn't you always take the part of the servants when they came to you with a pitiful tale ?" " Oh. Cnminiie, what a confusion you make! Do listen to me patiently. Mr. (jiuliani really loves me — loves me for myself. No matter what might happen to me, if I were to have the small pox, or become a cripple, un- sightly to every one else in the world, he would still cherish me as his love. It's so very rare, you know, to find that sort of attachment ; I have seen enough of life to know so much. Mr. Giuliani's feeling for me is not a question of money and settlements — " This word was a new cue, and set Miss Crumpton off. "How are you to live? I am sure Sir Mark will turn you away without a penny ; and I have so little in my power." The old woman was already drifting over to her adversary's side. " But, Lill, my dear, he loves you, and no thanks to him ; but you — do you love him ?" Miss Crumpton's voice and look were full of the dis- gust that the idea of such a possibility gave her. " I never saw any one else I ever thought of as a husband," said Lill. " But you might, if you took time to look about you." 128 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " Hush, Crummie, you must never say sucli words to me again ; it would be too dishonourable. For my saks — for your poor Espiegle's sake, do try and like Mr. Giuliani. If he were English, 1 am sure you wouldn't be able to spy out a fault in him ; and he will be as a son to you, Crummie. I shall not have to beg him to care for you. Whoever loves me, and is kind to me, he will love ; that is more than you are inclined to do." " You persuade me out of my senses, Ijill. my dear ; but you'll never get me to say it's anything but a most unnatural business; and then Sir Mark — " " We have settled about him already," said Lill, witii a smile, half sad, and a weary look : " he is to hurry m'y marriage by turning me out of doors." PASSIONATE HEART, 129 CHAPTER XXI. Passionate Heart. One of the Caliphs of (jrauada, designated " The Happy," was able to reckon up, ueverthcless, how many had been the happy days of his life ; twenty-three was it? not more, certainly. Giuliani was not so far behind the Moorish monarch; he marked down at this period sixteen days of happiness, beginning with his Sunday evening's visit to Miss Tufton. Lill accepted from him a ring, allowed him to place it himself on her finger, allowed him to wonder at and go into ecstasies as to the slendcrness of the finger, to study the hand and doat on its every blue vein and on the tiny dimples that marked the whereabouts of the knuckles. The unbending of the grave man, his childlike frank- ness, were really touching. For a time Lill sat and watched him with the satisfaction of one who sees the admirable working of a new mechanism. This new Mr. Giuliani was of her creating. Miss Crumpton's frigidity lasted throughout tea ; after that she lost her chilling power by nodding most charitably in her easy chair. Giuliani lowered his voice in reverence to so convenient a slumber. Miss Crumptou only slept on Sunday evenings when crochet and knitting were forbidden pleasures. It was then he had the opportunity of oS'er- ing his ring. Lill rather liked to hear him talk fondly and foolishly. He spoke to her for the first time of his own family, told her stories of his schooldays and made her laugh, that laugh which seemed to him like silver bells; he spoke to her of his father, of his bravery, his high hopes, and their fading; and won from her some- thing dearer than her laugh, precious tears of sympathy. At last he fell into sudden silence. Good heavens! what a rush of growing tenderness it was. that filling his heart, stopped his speech: words came dropping slowlj' from his lips, like drops out of an overtiiled uarrow- neckcd vase, passionate words that scorched Lill's cheeks, but froze her heart, her satisfaction was gone, but not her courage. She had made many a pious prayer that 130 WHO BREAKS PATS. Sunday morning- in his behalf. Having promised to be his wife, she had prayed God to make her loving as well as dutiful to him ; but she listened so gently, her long eyelashes bashfully sweeping her hot cheek, that he thought it better so, than if her blue eyes had darkened in answer to his. The next morning Lill received a bouquet of exotics, left with Giuliani's card. Lill was not pleased. " I wish he would not act so openly the lover," was the thought with which she took the flowers. Growing in her lieart was a seed of resentment at the e([uality on which he placed himself with her; she did her best to keep the feeling under, always asserting loudly that his social rights were not altered by the accident of his being an Italian master. Nevertheless ever since she had en- tangled herself in an engagement with him, whenever he assumed the air of a lover, she was inwardly revolted, as if he were taking an undue liberty with her. Unluckily for all parties Giuliani maintained towards Lady Ponsonby and Alicia an uiiexi)ccted reserve ; the mure unexpected as he must have known that Alicia had been almost a witness of his declaration of Lill. Perhaps Giuliani felt his position to be one of those which a sincere h-iend would be bound to liandle boldly, and ho miglit have a latent dread that his hajipiuess was built on sand, not rock, and would fall with a great fall at the first shock. The strongest of us are but cowardly compromisers when passion has the upper hand. Had tliere been anything to do. any overt struggle to make, Lill would have shown both strength and con- stancy. But she was not proof against mere endurance. She could not rise superior even to Miss Crunii)ton's repugnance t(» the Italian; she was for ever trying to get the old lady to confess herself wrong, it was like hitting a down cushion, which yields to the blow, and straightway recovers its form; Miss Crumi)ton's non possiimus was taking effect on Lill. (Jiuliani was soon made to feel the consccinences of this enemy at court. 'I'lie first cloud that darkened the heaven of his love was (lie evident fear with which Lill looked forward to Sir Mark's arrival. Uo what he wonid to be indulgent on this score, to sec in it nothing but girlish tiiL.idity, PASSIONATE HEART. 131 his self-love, rendered extremely ticklish by his circum staucep, was wounded. He had expected something very differeat, recollecting as he did very distinctly Lill s defiance of her grandfather in the beginning of their accjuaintance. The first expressions of alarm he had met with soothing encouragement, with those assurances which when a woman loves a man, make her feel ready to dare the whole world for him. But at last Lill's terrors lest Sir Mark should arrive and find him there, more openly expressed at each succeeding visit, provoked from hhn the utterance of some of the dis- pleasure that had accumulated in his mind. "This alarm is overmuch," he said. "There is some- thing grating to my feelings in it. It is painful when duties clash, and you have a duty to perform to Sir Mark as well as to me ; but I supposed you had already considered where the one ended, and the other began ; above all, let there be no concealments." "You don't know Sir ISfark's violence," said Lill, pale with a quiver on her lips. Giuliani's new tone was in- expressibly painful ; it revealed something like contempt, she thought. A tear in those beloved eyes, brought thither by his severity, filled him with remorse. " I am wrong," he said ; " forgive me ; you shall choose your own time and opportunity for speaking to Sir iSIark. I will leave you now, and not return again until you recall me." " I don't wish that," said Lill ; " all 1 wish is, that if Sir Mark should arrive and find you here, that you would not explain anything to him." Giuliani hesitated, and his brow lowered. "I do think," said Lill, "you might be a little more indulgent to me. I can't help dreading the first out- break of Sir Mark's rage ; I must bear that ; you pro- mised you would never willingly make me shed a tear. I thought when a man really loved a woman, he was not ready to suspect her of faults." "You thought," returned Giuliani, "that love wa8 necessarily blind. A great fallacy : any one who avers that any human being is faultless, uses flattery to gain some selfish end. Is that love not greatest which loves in spite of blemishes V 132 WHO BREAKS — PATS. Lill shook her head. " I begin to believe you don't know what love is." Giuliani here turned frightfully pale : theefifect of hei words was so beyond her intention, that Lill was like one thunderstruck. "Child, child!" he ejaculated, "you cannot then nnderstand me :" he went towards the door. " No ; you must not go away angry with me." " But I am not angry." "Yes, you are; come, forgive me for whatever crime I may have committed," said Lill, playfully, yet but half pleased. "You won't? well, then, I won't have your ring." He turned from her. " Take it or I'll crush it under my heel," she threw the ring on the floor. '• Even as you please," he replied, without stooping to lift up the ring. They stood eyeing one another like two combatants about to test each other's strength. It was Lill who picked up the ring. " Put it on my finger," she said, imperiously. " Not so," he answered ; " you must resume it of your own will and deed." She continued to hold the small circlet on the tip of her finger. What a strange battle was fighting in her heart ; not one between love and i)ride, nor between l)rid(' and pity. She valued him for his very resistance, and she could not resign her jjower over him. She held up her finger and the ring slip])od back to its place. She held out her hand to Giuliani, he took it, kissed it fervently, saying, — " Lill ! have you then had no idea that I give up something for you ?" she opened her eyes very wide. " If 1 liave never before told yf(ire did not take a muriiing drive by gaslight." Sir Mark laughed as if delighted. " Well ? anything more ?" " And that I was (piite difTcrent from what she ox pectcd, and much better looking." ORANDMAJfMA. 139 " Not a bit of feminine jealousy about her,' yon won't hear Jier pulling other women to pieces ; and Miss Lill, clever as you think yourself, you'll find your match there for mother wit. Lord, what a wonderful creature she would have been had she had an education like yours !" Lill was not only in most perfect astonishment at Sir Mark's way of speaking, showing as it did some of the usual marks of a real preference, but she was moved by it. She had half a mind to throw herself on his mercy; he was become mure hunuin ; who could tell but that he might be glad to get rid of her ? They were yet at dinner when a ring at the bell of the great entrance door announced some visitor. " Probably Mr. Edward," observed Miss Crumpton. " Why the deuce couldn't he have come sooner ?" said Sir Mark gruffly. " It is not a he at all, come to disturb your digestion," said a winning voice. Mrs. Townsend was standing laughing by his side, in the most coquettish and becoming of bonnets, a sortie de hal over her shoulders. Lill was amazed at the transformation wrought in the lady's appearance since six o'clock. Pretty she was not, rather something more, very piquant, her large sunken eyes launching forth flashes of light. With a careless glance at Lill and Miss Crumpton, she said, " Don't let me disturb any one ; 1 am so glad you are at dessert. I shall sit by you. Sir Mark ; and you must give me quantities of drag6es." " You know Whyteson said your way of living on sweet things was what hurt your health." "That," snapping the smallest fingers woman ever had, " for Whyteson. I do not care to live a year or two longer if I am never to do as T like ; so give me my sugar plums." " Why have you not a 'nougat,' Lill?" began Sir Mark " Oh, don't scold me. Sir Mark, scold the chef.'" "I won't have any scolding here," said Mrs. Town- send. " I have come to carry you off" to the Palais Royal Theatre; I have got a box, and a carriage is at the door." 140 " WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Why, how have you nianasred ?" Sir Mark asked. " Force de volonl4. sir. 1 felt dreadfully stupid aftef Miss Tufton went away, and I sent Athenais to find out if there was a valet de place to be had about the house, and that brought down Madame la prnpn'^/aire from the troisiini". Sir Mark, be on your guard, she is an uncommon pretty Parisian ; she and 1 fraternized or sorrowized at once ; she managed the whole business. 1 don't know the least what the play is, but niadama told me she knew that some of the Princes were to ba there." Lill, who had been growing more impatient at each of Mrs. Townsend's words, felt for an instant as if the last speech had been personally aimed at her. It was almost a reproduction of what she had once said to Giuliani, and the odiousness of such trifling was now made ap- parent to her. While Mrs. Townsend was eating her sugar plums, dipping sweet biscuits into her wine and chattering to Sir Mark, her eyes were busily scanning Lill. " I see you don't wish to go. Miss Tufton," she said at last. " Lill ! not like to go to the theatre !" exclaimed Sir Mark ; " why she is forever teasing me about bo.xes ; by the by, Miss Tufton, have you screwed any more out of that hero of Mrs. Ualedon's ;" and chuckling the while, he went on to tell the story as he understood it, of Lill's having made a stranger she met at Colonel Caledon's, give her a bo.x at the Italians'. "Yon are mistaken in one point," said Lill ; "I paid for Miss Crumpton's ticket and mine." Sir Mark looked furiously at her. "You did, did you ? Where did you get tlie money?" •'You had ijetter not ask me before strangers," she Paid. "Never mind me," said Mrs. 'I\nvnsend, laughing. " Well, then," continued Lill, "I have no idea of cheat- ing any one, and as I had no money 1 sold some of my ornaments." •'(^iiite right," said Mrs. Townsend, staring Sir Mark in the face. "There is no reason for your being unlady- like because Sir Mark is such a screw ;" then she added GRANDMAMMA. 141 in a low voice to the astounded baronet, " What a tempting prospect this story opcMis to me !" Sir Mark made no reply, but the look he threw at his granddaughter was awi'ul. Once more Mrs. Townscno whispered to him, " If you fly into a rage with Lill, it's all over between you and me ;" then aloud, she said, " I Bee you would really rather stay at home, Miss Tut'ton ; don't be afraid, Sir Mark shall not nnike you do anything for me against your inclinations. 1 shall beg Miss Orumpton to be our chaperoue, for I am not going alone with your grandfather." It was so arranged. When they were gone, Lill burst into a fit of tears. She remembered Giuliani, his ten- derness came back on her as the thought of green pastures and clear streams does on the parched traveller ill the desert; she must be happy with anyone like him ; she would get out of this wretched thraldom to Sir Mark and his set. Let him do his worst, she would be safe with Giuliani. Time was, that Lill would have laughed at the late scene instead of crying; the evil spirit had come out of her, but what if seven worse should take up their abode in her ? She was yet weeping, when Edward Tufton, fresh from England, came rushing in. She had never been so happy to see his well-known face ; even his loud unmusical voice was welcome ; she felt, as he almost shook her hand ofl', as if she had found a sui)port, one who would help and like her without analyzing whether she were right or wrong. " So they are all out but you, Lill ; what a lark ! Well what do you think of grandmamma to be ?" " I pity her," said Lill. " Pity me rather and yourself; but while you are mistress here, order me something to eat, I am starving." Lill rang the bell. " What will you have ?" " Oysters to begin with, then any cold meat that the cook can spare me." Presently the two cousins were seated at the dining- table, an immense dish of oysters before Edward. " There, you eat those," he began, giving her a plateful. "No, I can't." " Yes, you must, you look horridly down in the mouth, 142 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. I can tell you. You have got a suspicior of a hollow in your left cheek ; what's the matter ?" " Nothing's the matter, only I want to km w something about Mrs. Towuseud." " A queer fish, ain't she ? Such a spirit in that little body of hers ; she cows Sir Mark famously, don't she ? I'll stake a hundred to one that in a year she'll bring him to be only the husband of Lady Tufton." " But is it all settled then ? and who is she ?" " All right as to respectability and that sort of thing, for that's what you are driving at, I know ; as to your first question, you must ask her. I say, Lill, don't you go for to be taking a dislike to her because of her odd ways. She's not an ill-natured woman, and she is open- handed as the day ; and she can be, when she likes, the best fun in the world." " The idea of a grandmamma the best fun in the world !" repeated Lill. " You should see the state my mother is in. she wants me to go into the Cluirch and secure the family living at all events ; slic looks on uiy chance of the baronetcy as gone, and declares this marriage will be her deathblow. Everyday she writes me some new plan; her last is that you and 1 should unite to prevent its ever taking place. If wishes could kill, alas ! for Sir Mark." ''A la grace de Ditu," said Lill; "as for me I don't grudge Sir Mark his happiness nor his money, but now good night : he was in a rage with me as usual before he went out, and I don't want to meet him till he has slept it off." " Then, perhaps 1 had better toddle to bed also," said Mr. Tuftou. DRIFTING AWAY. 143 CHAPTER XXIII. Drifting Awa,j. On the breakfast table next morning lay a tiny note lor Lill, written in pencil ; it ran thus : — " What is the first duty of woman on arriving in Paris ? Guess, and come in the carriage at half-past one, and tell me." " Honoka T." Lill had lately had such an uncomfortable time of it with herself, that, truth to say, she was rather glad to have some other subject forced upon her. So, on the whole, she welcomed Mrs. Townsend's note, and was punctual to the hour mentioned. As a matter of course she had to wait half an hour, and therefore had the op- portunity of finishing Madame Fimiani. The hero, as every one knows, lives up in a garret, and gives lessons in mathematics, which does not make him the less of a fine gentleman, or the less beloved by a very fine lady. The story interested Lill, as stories do which trench on the domains of our own private history. The two ladies drove first to De Lisle's. Lill sat there for three quarters of an hour, patiently enough, amused with the variety of materials exhibited ; but at last Mrs. Townsend's caprice bewildered and fatigued her. That was nothing, however, to the impatience that ensued when, the dresses being chosen, the cpiantities required were to be discussed. Mrs. Townscnd disputed every point, accused the shopman of wishing to make her take too much, and ended by ordering more than he had said was necessary. " I declare it's nearly dark," she said, as she was walking to the carriage. " We have been four hours here," answered Lill. " Ah ! well, if it had not been for your solemn face, I should have been longer ; it will be your fault if I have taken what T don't like." Sir Mark's fine horses had been dawdling and standing in an east wind all this time ; the coachman looked down upon the ladies, with a face as rough as the wind itself-, Lill observed this to Mrs. Townseud. 144 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " 'Wliat else is he a coacUmau for ?" she said, which, however, did not preveut her seudiug him a lavga pour- boire when she got home. In the meantime they drove to Jeoffroy in the Rue Richelieu, where another hour was spent in choosing coitfnresand bonnets ; then elsewhere for artificial flowers, elsewhere again for gloves, for shoes. At half-past eight Lill put down Mrs. Townseud at her own door, who, as she alighted, exclaimed, — •• I shall not dine with you to-day, but come and see me early to-morrow." Mrs. Townsend had engaged herself to dine with the Tuftons, and had made them alter their dinner-hour. The next day Lill walked with Edward Tufton to the Rue de Cirque. They were arm in arm, and really made an interesting couple. Many of the passers-by turned to look at them, and all had more or less of a smile on their faces, the pleasant sensation with which one greets spring-time. " Well matched indeed !" was the thought of one who had been some time (himself unseen) coutemi)lating them. As the cousins were about to turn into the Rue de Cirque, this moralizer passed them hastily, and Mith- out giving any sign of recognition : Lill flushed crimson : "he must have been behind them, he might think all sorts of things ;" she made a dash forward to stop him, she lialf called out his name, and then stupi)ed. " What's the matter '!" asked Edward, putting his head forward to see her face. Of course the answer was, "Nothing." " Yes, it is something ; that fellow who passed us is that Grimgrifliuoff you were in such a passion with me about." " I'erhaps it was," said Lill ; " I suppose he did uot recognize us." Mr. J'ldward looked rather sulky. Timt Saturday evening Lill could not go to the Pon- sonby'H. t)ut she wrote an apology and explanation. Within a week of Mrs. Townsend's advent in I'aris, she had a dashing, low, open carriage, with a pair of spirited jionies, in which she drove herself and the beautiful Miss Tuftou to the liuis de liuulugue, uud Id DRIFTING AWAV. 14£ doing which both ladies met with their due share of ad- miration; the oue for hov beauty, tlie other for her gracel'ul, daring- coachmiiuship. At the end of that weeli the two were mounted on equally first-rate horses, with plenty of cavaliers besides Sir Mark and Edward TuftoM ; cavaliers agreeable, gallant, and talkative, to whom Sir Mark and his heir presumptive only were an exception, their rule being to be sulky and silent. The ladies were also en 4uiile-)ice in the evenings. After the ' ride, or the drive, came tlie dinner. There was always either company to dinner or in the evening ; or they went to a theatre, or a concert, or a ball, or a soir6e. Mrs. Townsend could not endure a family party, and wherever she went, Lill must go, or else Sir Mark should not accompany her. Lill yielded to this exi- gency with evident reluctance at first, then more and more readily. But wherever she might be, or whatever she might be doing, abroad or at home, alone or in a crowd, the re- collection of her promise to Giuliani, of his right to claim its performance, lay heavy and cold on her con- science. Why did she linger so ? was a question never candidly answered. She was already once more living in the zone of fashion, breathing easily in that malignant air which leaves no one the master of either his thoughts or actions. All that can be said in Lill's defence is that, through- out this period, she never laid herself out to attract ; her manners, indeed, were so retiring, that more than one of those who dangled in her train supposed her to be the betrothed of the ill-tempered looking youth who was always at her side. After that morning when Giuliani had passed her in the Cliamps Elysees without any sign of recognition, Lill had had many glimpses of him wlien she was on horseback, or in the dashing pony phaeton ; and each glimpse had sent the blood violently to her heart, leav- ing her lace colourless for an instant, only to steep it in crimson the following moment. Giuliani never seemed to see her, but she was certain, as of her life, that he always did. Oue day in particular she had had a good inspiration. 13 146 WHO BREAKS — PATS. She had been riding with Mrs. Townsend and a gay party in the Champs Elysees. and she had caught sight of him about to enter the courtyard of a building on which was a huge board with staring gold letters, an- nouncing it as a " Pensionnat pour Jeu)ics clemoiselles.^' She saw perfectly well that he looked pale and thin. She had fine gentlemen on either side of her, Avell mounted, and as sleek and shiny as their steeds : they were all trotting, and the cloud of dust they raised reached Giuliani. lie stopped and shook it from his coat. This accidental circumstance smote her heart. In the smart of the moment, she curbed her horse so tightly, that he reared : the gentlemen on either side made a snatch at her bridle, but she struck the spirited animal with her whip between the ears, so that he set olF at a wild gallop. No, he should not see any man paying her attention. And Giuliani thought the gallop a bravado ! Did not Lill well know his aversion to a woman's riding ? On her return homo, still under the impression she had received, Lill wrote to Giuliani a very few lines, but strong with real feeling; she concluded by saying that nothing should })revent her going to Lady Ponsoid)y'3 next Saturday evening. She gave her note to Ruth, bidding her take it to the post herself. Ruth had often seen notes addressed by her young lady to Mr. Giuliani, and had not given a thought to the matter. She was accustomed also to Lill's forcible manner about trifles, yet this day the lady's-maid imagined, for tlie first time, that there was something between Miss Tufton and Mr. Giuliani, and hers was the memory of a servant for those sorts of things. Giuliani received the note with more of surjnnse than pleasure; he read if, and laid it down with a quietly muttered " Paayj-e enfant." His heart was as heavy as a stone. That morning he had heard that he was sure of being named to the professorship of history at the college of^ the provincial town of IJ — . "An evil fate follows me," he had thought; "the nomination is of no use for the end I solicited it, and will oidy serve to separate me from the best of friends, und a life that suits me. 1 have deserved this." FETTERS OF INTIMACY. 147 CHAPTER XXIV Fetters of Intimacy " No, no, no, — I can't spare you this evening," said Mrs. Towusend to Lill, who was pleading a pre-engage- ment. " I don't know another English woman 1 can ask to meet these French people. You will do me credit ; besides, I can't bear to see any one pursing up their mouths in fear of what may be coming next, or else dropping out from the end of their lips, in answer to a joke upon some of our national absurdities, 'That's exactly what we pride ourselves upon in England.' " The mimicry of some of their collet moniS acquaint- ances was so capital that Lill burst out laughing. " You are a charming creature," said Mrs. Townsend ; " I knew you could not resist me." " I must this once — only this once, dear Honora." " Where do you want to go ?" asked the dear Honora, her sunken eyes fixed on Lill with curiosity. " I am yourchaperone now ; Sir JNLirk gave you into my charge, and I have a right to know, and I will know." Intimacies generally end in being lyrannies. Lill was by this time aware that what Mrs. Townsend said in p'ay she often meant in earnest. " Tliere's no mj-stery in the case," she said? " I wish to go to Lady Ponsonby's Saturday reception." " You never mentioned Lady Ponsonby to me before. Where does she live? who is she ? why have you not introduced me to her?" " I should be very glad to do so ; she is a charming person; oh, so good, so unlike any one lever saw," said Lill, warming with her subject. " I used to go there almost every Saturday evening before you came, and she has a right to be offended at my neglect of her lately." " Is she old? has she sons?" pursued Mrs. Townsend. "One son at home, the other is in India; but you needn't imagine any love affair between Valentine and me ; he is just such another as Edward Tufton." "Ah 1 by the by, Lill, why don't you and that Neddy 14? WHO BREAKS — PATS. make up a match, and keep the title and wealth in the family ?" '• Heavens, no !" exclaimed Lill, again laughing ; " that would be preposterous ; his wife to be should still be in the nursery. Besides, we expect you to be Lady Tul'ton." "Hm! hm ! hm ! come, confess, and I'll let you ofif this evening. Notre copui- a d6jcL parl4, eh ! some mer- curial Parisian whom we think to meet at this Lady Ponsonby's ?" " No, indeed," said Lill, firmly. "You swear it is not so — very well ; then you must give up Lady P. and all her amiable batadan." Lill was afraid to insist, so she sent oU'at once a note to Lady Ponsonby. " Please not to think ill of me — but, iudecd, I do not believe you ever judge one unkindly — I would give much to be with you this evening, but I am prevented. "Your most afl'ectiouate, " Lill." " Show it to Giuliani," said Alicia, who was suspicious that all was not right between the Italian and Miss Tuf- ton. Lady Ponsonby accordingly placed it in Giuliani's hand as soon as ho came in. It was the first time she had ventured on tlio sliglitest act that could give a hint of her being aware of his feelings for Lill. He read the few lines in silence, the moment was not come for any outpourings of the pain he felt. Alicia picked uj) the note afterwards, so crushed, that tht writing was nearly illegible. SOIREE TOWNSEND. 149 CHAPTER XXV. Soiree Townsend. TnKRK was a pleasant subdued lia^ht in Mrs. Town- Baud's drawing-room, when liill entered it with Sir Mark and Edward. A hidy and two gentlemen had preceded them. The lady was presented as Madame de Vernenil, one gentle- man as Mons. Ix, the other as Mons. Vertengris. '^The fartie carrie opened their circle to admit the new arri- vals. Madame de Vernenil retreated to a sofa, in one corner of which she shrank herself up, looking — no other description will answer for her — like a portrait by Watteau. Fler hair, of that peculiar shade called black in England, and chdfa/'n in France, was drawn back from her face, falling in the studied disorder pro- duced by a clever hair-dresser, behind her ears down on her white throat. The blue knitted capuchon on the back of her head remained as she had put it on, to walk down fn>m the troisiiiac to l\Irs. Townsend's second. Mrs. Townsend looked that evening in her flowing white dress with green ribbons, like Lorelei, so said Mons. Vertengris. The something strange that charac- terized her appearance, was one of her attractions; she made people look and look again ; it was easy to imagine her liorelei or any spirit in pain, even a victim to some supernatural influence. The extraordinary brilliancy of luirdark gray eyes was really suggestive of an inward fire gradually consuming her ; and the inevitable imures- sion of every one on seeing her for the first time was wonder, how so frail a bark could carry such a cargo of life. The conversation broken by the entrance of the Tuf tons was not easily reknotted. Mrs. Townsend called Lill to sit by her, and introduced Mons. Vertengris to her. Mons. Vertengris was much younger than Mons. Ix, and was exactly the sort of a person whom gentle- men like Sir Mark and Edward Tufton consider as the worst species of Frenchmen. lie was tall, well-made, hair and eyes black as jet — both lustrous ; in short, very 13* 150 vrun breaks — pays. handsome. Mons. Vertengris made a little sign exj>res- sive of his approbation of Miss Tuftoa's appearance to the lady of the house, with whom he continued his con- versation, which, however ingeniously he paraphrased her observations, did not prevent Lill's attention wander- ing to what was passing between Mons. Ix and Madame de Yerueuil. Mons. Ix might be a man of forty, but he wore a wig, at least so it seemed — a scratch auburn wig, which came down in a point on the forehead, and retired very much from off the temples. He had a scru- tinizing eye, and not a pleasant mouth, with dazzling white teeth, as had also Mons. Vertengris. His thin lips twisted scornfully as he spoke. To Madame de Verueuil's observations as to Lill's beauty, he an- swered, — " Yes ; she rather justifies those charmingly impossi- ble English engravings, but she makes me think of ce rosier hlanc qui doit me dunner des roses noires ; in short, fit to obtain a prize at some flower-show." " Very unjust." responded Madame de Vernouil. " Qne voulez-vous? moi jai le ma/heur de ne pas avoir de go&t pour les blondes filles d' Albion. If it were only their unnatural habit of shaking hands with every man they meet, I could never adore them. I should prefer to he the first man to press the hand of my future wife." Madame de Verneuil, by a glance, guided Mons. Ix's eyes towards Lill, who, by her deep blush, showed she had overheard the criticism. " Have you seen the dear political, theological, senti- mental princess ? how goes on her amiable recruiting for the cause of Italy ?" "liadly. since she broke with the Oiovane Italia: her fine eyes have quite failed in melting the hard-hearted Giulio; lie holds out against all her stratagems!" "Giulio? don't know him," said Ix. nonchalantly. "The man of wood, son of the Cavalierc (tiuliani;" here were some words nniMtelligiltle to Lill, whose whole attention was engrossed l)v this conversation. "Ah! ah! The pm/di'd of (Jioberti — he that is to marry the daughter of an Knglish Miledi." "lint the princess will have him if she cares to do so: her molto is: ' Lalnir rincit iinprubus.^ " SOIREE TOWNSEND. 151 A bustle at the door announced a new arrival. A tall, dark woman, between the two ages, to translate the graphic French phrase, entered, Icanio"' on the arm of a geutleman. Lill hoard this same lady accosted as Notre chire princesse, and coaxed and cajoled by Madame de Verneuil and Mons. Ix. " I come with such a history," exclaimed the princess. " What a world ! what a base, hypocritical world, Mons. Ix ! You don't hit it hard enough in your writings. I shall become a greater pessimist than you. I shall re- tire to the summit of Mount Lebanon." "I ask nothing better than to be allowed to accom- pany you," said Mons. I.^. "There under the broad spreading cedars, through the fine leaves of which comes filtering the silver light of the full moon — " "And when there is no full moon ?" interrupted Ma- dame de Verneuil. " Or no trees ?" suggested Mons. Vertcngris, believing he was very original. " My faith, the case is not foreseen by poets," answered Mons. Ix. "But my story, my story; has no one any interest in my story ? listen !" Everybody was silent and the prin- cess began: "Count C— , — ah! T see you guess the name — wants to marry his son. Well, he hears of the daughter of a wealthy merchant in L— , and sends a confidential agent to enter on the preliminaries. The father, Mr. R — , presses for the name of the future — , the agent is not authorized to reveal it, but allows that the father of the young man is a count and hereditary peer. The well-pleased confident returns to Paris and finds his principal at dinner with his intimate friend, Count D— . Count C— tells him to speak out, for that D — is his bosom friend, whereupon the agent announces the success of his negotiations, gives the cipher of the young lady's dowry— a sum that makes the mouths of both counts water — and winds up the narration by say- ing, that the father had greatly urged him for the name of the person who was in treaty for the young lady's hand. 'To pacify the good papa,' continued the agent, 'I told him that T was acting for a count and peer.' 'Bien,' said Count C — ;'you may communicate the name 152 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. and title.' Count D — took his leave immediately aftei dinner, went by rail to L — , introduced himself to the merchant ; he was a count and hereditary peer ; bref, the young lady's hand was promised to his son when Count's C — 's agent reappeared at L — ." There was one burst of laughter, as the princess con- cluded her story, from all in the room with the excep- tion of the Tuftons : Sir Mark and Edward could not follow the lady's rapid French, and Lill was indignant. "It was down right cheating," she exclaimed. "You are right, mademoiselle," said Mons. Ix, ad- dressing her with a sort of benevolent look. " See what it is to be young ! there is still a fibre of honesty in your heart ; I perceive it is a bad thing to be no longer young, ^[ademoiselle, I congratulate you on the power of being indignant; in ten years you will laugh like the rest of us when an infamy is related. " I hope not," said Lill, with a little too much empha- sis for society. Both cette chire princesse and Madame de Yernouil stared at Lill coldly. But Mons. Lx had made his repu- tation, he wielded a waspish pen, his books were popular ; therefore when he spoke every one listened, and took it on trust that what he said was witty or sagacious. Mons. Ix sat for a tune with his head hanging down on his breast: then, as if awakening he said. — "Yes, my mind is made up. Youth is our consolation and supreme resource: the best thing in the world, — you shrug your shoulders, ladies, — not for its smooth skin and bright eyes, though such gifts are not worthless, — far from that; but I adore it for its folly and exagger- ations, generally the exaggeration of some generous sentiment." Mons. Yertengris kindly wished to interpose some praise in behalf of those whose youth had fled ; he re- sorted as usual to a para])hriise of something he had heard or read. "True, a smiling plain is charming, but a fine ruin excites our curiosity." "Bravo," exclaimed L\, with a twist of liis mouth. "Well, for my part, I accept vour simile with trrali- tudc." After this Ix ensconced himself between the princess and Madame de Verneuil, and of their conversation nnlv SOIREE TOWXSEND. 153 nncoDnected sentences reached Lill ; but they interested her, for the subject was Italy. " 'Waiting for his star ;' it will be long enough before it comes to him," said the princess. "J'attends mon astre." Lill knew that was Charlea Albert's device. Here more guests entered, and what followed was lost to her. Sir Mark at every new entrance turned a re- proachful glance on Mrs. Townsend, who did the honours with a perfect grace, that even Mons. Ix allowed to be worthy of a l^xrisian. Suddenly Lill saw Mdlle, Arse- nieir. The Russian came up to her, and in her careless, loud way, said, — " I drop from the clouds ; I believed you were already on the other side of the Channel. You have, then, turned a cold shoulder to Italy ?" Lill asked for Lady Ponsonby. "Ah ! poor lady, she has had bad news of her son in India ; but there is compensation, — he is about to return to Europe." INldlle. ArseniofT's business there was to play, and not to gossip; so she left Lill with her curiosity quite unsated. "Always that German music," exclaiiiu>d the princess. "Italian music is as much avoided as if it were a politi- cal prisoner. Hfon dicu ! how I detest those ti, ti, ti, echoed by torn, tom, tom ! Ah ! cher ami," to Mons. Ix, "la guerre sortira de ces faux accords," said she re- turning to her foruK^r suliject. " That may well be ; they are very irritating to the ear," said Ix, laughing. " The idea," continued the princess, perfectly uncon- scious of the qnid iiro quo of what she had just said, " of a pope at the head of a liberal movement, and Francis of Modcna granting concesssion ! God give me patience ! we are not yet in the millennium; when the tiger will lie down with the lamb." Lill only once caught a word which she believed re- ferred to Giuliani. "As to him, he has retrograded into a constitutionalist, sees no hope for Italy luit in Piedmont: that party in- creases, it is not he individually, but his name counts, and he is honest." ^ To an observation of Mons. Ix the princess replied,— 154 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. ^'Affaire de coeur. Bali ! one of those men who has no blood in his veins " Mons. Yertengris was singing, and just at this inter- esting crisis sent forth a volume of voice that over- powered every other sound. Mrs. Townsend afterwards tried to persuade Lill to sing, but in vain, spite of Sir Mark's frowns ; the English girl was really afraid of the two Parisian ladies. The guests at last slipped away one by one ; Mons. Yertengris standing before Mrs. Townsend for at least three minutes and a half, and then for as long before Lill, with his feet drawn close together, his hat in both hands in a line with his knees, and his head bent down on his chest. It was Mons. Yertengris' way of taking leave, and expressive of his most distinguished sentiments. The ladies bowed and curtsied themselves away under Mons. Tx's guard, and the Tuftons alone remained. " Who is that woman with the moustache ?" asked Sir Mark, gruffly. '•Woman? what woman?" repeated Mrs. Townsend with an artless air. She had drawn Lill down on the sofa by her side, and was playing with a curl gf her hair. " Well, that lady, if you choose to call her so." ' Oh ! M.adame la Princessc de — , born Countess — " The names were too historical for even Sir Mark to sneer at. " And the other, with her saucy face ?" "Madame de Yernenil. I believe she has no title to ofTond you." " And where are the hnsbands of these great dames?" " The prince is in his own country, and as for Madame de Yerneuil, she has too much esprit to l)e anything l)iit a widow;" and. with one of her sweetest smiles. Mrs Townsend pointed to the clock, which marked an Imur after midnight. Home lii(> three Tuftons drove in inimical silence ; for Bilenees have as many meanings as words. Each received their candh' willi a iniitlered good-night. Certainly, nrver in any family was there less of ceremony, less of f)oliteneas. than in that of the 'I'nftims : it may be added ess of ciirdialKy also, which, in many ca.ses redeems tlir rudencHs of home manners. SOIREK TOWNSEND. 15£ Sir Mark had always been and was the last person ic the world to whom Lill evor api)lied for any indulgence, or advice, or assistance. She had never heard the door close against him but with a sensation of pleasurable relief. As for Edward Tufton, he was a specimen of the sort of youth Mr. Carlyle would keep for some years under a tub ; full uf lively sympathy for the powers that be, very good-natnred when he had his own way. Lill did not intend to be cruel to Ruth, but she allowed her to go on In'ushing her hair indefinitely. 'J'wenty-one days since she had sj)oken to (jiuliani. She was glad now she had been to Mrs. Townsend's. Poor Lill ! to think of her finding consolation in the windy words of two women of the world ! Nevertheless, it was a balm to her pride that Giuliani was canvassed for by a prin- cess of great lineage ; that his name was held as a power by one of the most noble of his own nation. Madame de Vernexiil and Mons. Ix spoke of him as on a par with this lady, whose escutcheon had figured in the Crusades. His giving lessons had not been alluded to. How she wished Sir Mark and Edward Tufton had heard how respectfully he was mentioned! they would not dare then to ti-cat him with cont(Miipt. Mons. L\ did not seem to think there was anything out of the way in Gjuliani's marrying Miss Ponsonby ; and she was the daughter of one baronet and the sister of another, quite of the same rank as Lill herself. " If English people," mused Lill, " Avere only as liberal as the French ; but they are so ferociously exclusive. You must be English to the very marrow of your bones to please the English. A grain of contincutalism, and one is lost." She remembered feeling in this way once herself. Poor Lill ! what a vexed sigh she gave ! It was a curious illustration of the impression of truthfulness Giuliani had made on her, that she entirely set aside as nonsense all the gossip that associated his name with that of Miss Ponsonby. At last Ruth, who had fallen asleep in her operations, gave her mistress's head such a knock with the brush, that Lill uttered a little scream, and repentantly sent Ruth away to her bed. 156 WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XXVI. Scbahabaham Mademoiselle Arsexieff was a Cossack from the borders of the Don. Scarcely yet tamed by her two years' residence in Paris, Lady Ponsonby and Alicia had rescued her from a peculiarly disagreeable position, and had assisted her to attain her great end. viz. that of be- coming a pianiste. For these two ladies Mdlle. Arse- nieff entertained that sort of attachment which a savage may be supposed to feel for a benefactor. By any means right or wrong, his benefactor is to be protected and benefited. Admitted as one of the intimates of the Ponsonby family, the Russian girl had di.*covered Alicia's attachment to Uiuliani ; and from the moment she had read in his eyes his admiration of Lill, she had taken for Miss Tufton an unreasoning aversion founded on her gratitude to Alicia. iShe hated (Giuliani for being in- scnsil)le to Alicia's superiority ; in her heart she accused him of mean Morship (^f wealth, and after all the Pon- sonby's kindness to him ! lint Mdlle. Arsenieff possessed the powers of dissimulation, as well as the blind devotion, of a savage. She veiled her attacks under a show of frankness, which went well with her broad o])en face. . Lill, on the contrary, had taken a liking to Mdlle. Arsenieff, and whenever she heard of any one requiring music lessons, or some pianiste for the evening, she al- ways recomiiu'Miled Lady Ponsonby's prnlS'iic. It was Lill who had proposed to Mrs. Townsend to invite the Russian. Nothing mollified by this good-nature, Mdlle. ArseniefTconducted a series of covert attacks against Lill, moreeK])ecially \vlien(iiuliaui was present, and always with rare precision hitting on incidents peculiarly distasteful to him. She described and exaggerated the e.xjiensive etyle of Miss Tufton's dress; spoke of her as being sur- rounded by a phalanx of admirers; one to hold her snu'lling Ixittle, others her fan, her bomiuet; relating that she had entered a ball-room leaning on AL-. Tufton's arm, and that her manner was such to the young man, that every one said, if she were not his JiancSc, sh» SCHAHABAHAM. 157 jught to be ; that Madame Townsend was a woman to ruin a steadier girl than Madlle. Lill ; and. in short, with- out Ijringiiig any real accusation against Lill. slic managed to give (jiiuliani a lively image of pride, coquetry, aud indiscretion. There is a coarse, light way of relating, that throws listeners off their guard; besides, Giuliani had strong prejudices wliich allowed him to be led and misled wlien persons far his inferiors in intelligence escaped the trap. One evening Valentine exclaimed after the departure of Mdlle. Arsenieff. — "What motive can Mdlle. Arsenieff have for constantly speaking ill of Miss Tufton ?" This was after the pianiste had successfully mimicked IVFons. Vertengris and Edward Tufton, and declared that there would be a duel between them to decide who should carry off the belle. "No motive at all," said Lady Ponsonby, "but that she is amused by the vagaries of a set of persons hither- to undreamed of ])y her." " AVell, mother, I don't agree with you. She persists top much in one strain for it to be natural ; it's very like a jealous woman." As no one answered, he asked, — " Wliat has Miss Tufton done to you all, that you seem actually ))leased with — " " My dear Valentine !" interrupted the mother and daughter. " Let me finish my sentence : yes, you are pleased, and do encourage Mdlle. ArseniefTs ill-nature by your laugh- ter. Whatever Miss Tufton may do, I am sure she is never unladylike, and that is what you cannot say for your Russian favourite." " Valentine, you mistake ; no one here wishes ill to Miss Tufton," said Giuliani, gravely ; " at the same time it is not easy to approve of her entire neglect of your mother With carriage and horses she might have made her way here once in the last three weeks ; formerly she never allowed two days to pass without calling." " There's something wrong, about which, 1 am not in the secret," said Valentine ; " but I knew Miss Tufton before any of you : I have seen her surrounded by men 14 l.")H WHO BREAKS — PAYS. aud I swear she never flirted with one or a dozen, or gave her flowers or her handkerchief to any one to hohl : she is as prt)iul as a queen ! But all women love to pull a pretty girl to pieces," and out of the room flung honest Valentine. " Valentine is right," said Alicia ; " we have all been encouraging Mdlle. ArsenieS". I shall speak seriously to her to-raorrow ; and as for Miss Tufton's visits here, probably she only states the fact when she says it is not her fault that she does not come." 'J'his outbui'st of Valentine's had its effect on Gitiliani ; it determined him to accept of an invitation to dinner he shortly after received from Mrs. Calcdon ; the note said, to meet Mons. Villcmasson, the great philosopher, and warm admirer of Italy, tlie 'J'uftons, and a few other friends, lie would go and judge for himself. The Tuftons were already in the Caledon's drawing- room when (iiuliani was announced. Lill had hoard he A'as expected, and hoped to be able to maintain a placid ■jxterior when she should see him. But the sound of his voice- — she could not look up — covered her face and '.hroat with a scarlet blush. Edward Tuftou was on one side of her and Mrs. Townsend on the other. Mrs. Calcdon had hold of Giuliani's arm and was iiresenting him to Mons. Villcmasson, her great lion, a most flourish- ing specimen of a philosopher ; flowing grey hair comlied back from a face with a complexion that looked like strawberries and cream, a ligure portly as a bisho])'s, hands like those of a priest ; — this nice old gentleman stood conversing with Giuliani for some time, and Lill liopcd that every one would remark the extreme cordi- ality of the celel)rity. Mrs. Caiedon was worse than the most terrible child for getting herself and her guests into scrapes; she pre>^('n11y brought Giuliani up to Lill, saying, — " 'I'he master must take the ]>u])il down to dinner; it will l)e a good opptirt unity for him to see wlicther sho has forgotten her Italian." And, having done this, she went away smiling. liill could not tell wlietlier Sir Mark or Edward Tuftdn had heard i>r understood this speech, for almost immediately there was a move towards the dining-room SCHAHABAHAM. 159 and her arm lay on that of Giuliani. Neither had yet Baid a word to the other. If Lill had been aware in time that she was going to meet Giuliani in this way, she would not have had the courage to appear at Mrs. Calcdon's. He took pity on her excessive embarrass- ment, and, meaning to broach some indifferent subject, asked, " if she had been riding that morning T' Lill fancied his question contained an allusion to the day when she had galloped away from his sight con- science-stricken ; once again she flushed, saying, — " I know j'ou disapprove of ladies riding, but I cannot help it." " My prejudices are not worth your remembering," he replied, with a forced smile. "Ah! what is that our neighbours are saying ?" A very pleasant looking, handsome English woman, with that smooth, rosy embonpoint which denoted that she found this world the best of all possible worlds, was answering Mens. Villemasson, the amateur of Italy. "My dear sir, I confess I have neither patience nor sympathy with twenty-six millions of people for ever gnashing their teeth, and crying out for some one to come and help them." The benign philosopher, who, perhaps, found it easier to row with the current than against it, at all events at dinner-time, bethought him of a means of showing off his friendship for Italy and his Konum Italian at the same time ; he burst forth : " Piiingi chi hen' hai donde I/alia mia," Ac. Kind Mrs. Calcdon's eyes filled, and she glanced to- wards Giuliani, thougli the only words she had under- stood of the baron's quotation were, " Piangi" and " Italia ;" they were enough, however, to encourage her tears, Lill had winced at the handsome lady's attack on Italians, and looked down on her plate ; but MrsyCale- don, in her happy confusion of ideas, exclaimed, " Oh ! Mr. Giuliani, do say something for your own cause." General attention being thus attracted to him, Giuliani exclaimed, with some warmth, — " The question, I believe, is, why do the Italians not free themselves. Ask Enceladus why he does not shaktf 160 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. off the moimtain under which he is buried ; or Pro. metheus, why he does not break his bonds and be free. There are attempts even beyond the strength of giants. Do you know, madarae," more particularly addressing the handsome lady, " that Austria exercises an iron sway in Lonibardy and Yenetia ; that she keeps, in spite of pope and cardinals, let alone the populations, garri- sons at Ferrara, Comacchio, and Plaisance ; that the rulers of Modena. Parma, and Tuscany, are offshoots of Austria ; that all act, with the exception of Piedmont, as Austria bids ? Are we then so wrong, after all, if we call upon Europe to undo the work of iniquity which in an evil hour she has done — if we protest against the breach of the most solemn jjromises ? Yes, the i)roniises made to Italians, to induce Ihem to join the allies against the common enemy, have been forgotten, and Austria has been permitted to turn Italy into a prison. The Croat encamped wilhin the very heart of our country, a hundred thousand foreign bayonets, was what i)eace blessed us with — a peace that was a bitter derision. Never was oppression, never was compression, for us, more pitiless." " What a fool !" muttered Sir Mark to Mrs. Townsend. "So he is," she answered, " to i)e talking sense here." "AVell," exclaimed Mrs. Calcdou, "I always thought you such a moderate man." " There are matters in whicli moderation is cowardice, Mrs. Caledon. And now," he added, smiling, "my violent fit is over, and I return to my natural disi)ositiou of a lamb." Then, addressing himself to Lill, he said, in a lower voice, " I am afraid I have disgraced myself irretrievably in the eyes of your fair compalriute. It is not like a gentleman to be warmly interested in any- thing, is it?" " You speak English so well, Mr. Giuliani, wliy don't yon say ' country w liani. 14* /62 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " Because she has taken the most extraordinary di» like to Mrs. Townsend, and shuts herself up to avoid her." "And you, do you sympathize with Miss Crumpton ?" "Not at all," answered Lill, warmly; then sobering her tone and looking almost deprccatingly at Giuliani, she added " I like her, and I cannot say why." " The expression of your face reveals that you are ex- pecting some reproof from me. Was I, then, so severe a master ?" The words ! they were nothing, as words often are ; but the voice, how eloquent it was ! Lill did not speak, she was frightened at the tone ; she looked round quickly to see who was near, she even made a movement as if she would have taken flight. "Do you wish me to go away?" he asked. " No, stay ;" yet the transparent eyelids lay obsti- nately over the sweet eyes. At last, with a great effort compelling herself to speak, she said — " Yes, you are inclined always to be severe." "Do not call it severity," he said, then added, "But how can I expect you to understand what passes in a man's soul when he has nothing but the bread of the proscribed." "Prenez mon ours," whispered a merry voice, and a slender figure insinuated itself betweecn Giuliani and Miss Tnfton. "Mrs. Calcdon will be with you innncdi- ately, you look so melancholy a couple ; and, dear wo- man, wherever she has seen any one with a triste air, she has gone up to them with, ' Prenez man ours.' She liad oflVrod him twice to Sir Mark, and once to cousin Edward. Look how she makes him dance ! how well he bows I" Mrs. Calcdon was, indeed, moving anxiously about with her arm witiiin that of Muns. Villcmasson, present- ing him first to one person and tlicn to another. Lill tried to laugh, and Giuliani smiled. " If you will let me bring in my chair," continued Mrs. Townsend, " I'll tell yciu a story. There, now we are comfortable," she said, much as a child might have done. She began, "Once upon a time there was a famouB pacha — I f^orget his name — " SCHAHABAHAM. 163 " SchalKibaliam !" suggested Giuliani. " How strange you should know anything of vaude- villes," observed Mrs. Towuseud, staring at Giuliani. " Uncommonly sensible, though. Well, Mr. Schahaba- ham had a favourite, whom he prizcul far beyond his sultana, or his flrst minister, though that personage was half an idiot ; and who do you think, or what do you think, this favourite of the pacha's might be ? Do you give it up ? why a great bear — the Great Bear prob- jibly — an excellent creature in its way, and which, under pretext of being a bear, never spoke. Poor beast ! in spite of being adored by pacha, minister, and the whole nation, one day it died. It's dreadful in any country to the bearer of' bad tidings ; but in the kingdom of the Pacha Scha — " she looked at Giuliani. " Schahabaham." " Exactly ; there it was dangerous to men's heads ; so you may imagine the prime minister's joy when he heard of the arrival in the capital of the pacha's dominions of two European merchants. They would be a novelty which might divert the pacha's grief when he heard, as hear he must, of his irreparable loss. But to every pro- position of the minister to present the strangers at court, they shook their heads saying ' Prenez mon ours.' " " Lill, my dear young friend," exclaimed Mrs. Calcdou, "you are looking very serious to-night. Allow me to introduce Mous. Villemassou. Miss Tufton — Mons. Villemasson." " I am afraid I am rather an unlikely person to drive away a young lady's melancholy," said the benign old man. " You vnll find Miss Tufton incorrigible," said Mrs. Townsend, " because she knows a pensive attitude suits her so well. She has positively resisted my story of U Ours et le Pacha." " Ha, ha 1 prenez mon ours," said the Frenchman, promptly ; " but one must see it acted to feel the droll- ery," and he laughed the good-natured laugh peculiar to very fat men. By this time Mrs. Caledon had discovered some other Schahabaham in want of consolation, and carried off her L64 WHO BREAKS — PATS. precious guest. Mrs. Townsend, her bright eyes follow- ing the strangely assorted couple said to Giuliani, — " Have you ever forgotten that men and women were men and women, and looked at them as you would do at the animals in the Jardin des Plantes. Really, when narrowly examined, humanity is not so very pretty, that any of us have a right to be proud of it. A crowded room always disgusts me with my fellow mortals. How clever of the Greeks and Romans to have draperies to hide the poorness of the human figure ! I can bear the sight now and then of a man's head ; don't you believe the soul to be in the brain ?" " We must call back Mons. Yilleraasson, he is just the man to answer your query." said Giuliani. " To offer me one of his own peculiar hobbies, you mean ; prentz mon ours, in fact." "As for me," rejoined Giuliani, " I confess I have never tried to discover in what particular niche of our bodies the soul may be quartered ; 1 know it is the prin- cijjle of our life here and hereafter." Mrs. Townsend buried her face in her bouquet, then said, — "There ! no more of such dreadful churchyard words; let us live the day and be satisfied. Lill, tliere's a pansy for you — it means sweet thoughts," and the little lady sauntered away. " You must not judge of Mrs. Townsend by her man- ners in society," observed Lill. " She is very chari- table, and always ready to oblige." "She is interesting," he replied, "but like one whose mind is jangled and out of tune. I should say she pos- sessed unusual pciiel ration : her eves actualiv seem to pierce into one's mind. 1 suspect she has a marvellous power of reading the thoughts of those about her, and — " he stopped. " Well !' said Lill, a little anxiously. " She will be no friend to uic," he rei)lied in a lower voice. Lill dill not make any attempt to continue the conver Bation and ( iiuliaiii, hurt at licr silence, said no more, but he kept liis place by her side. Once Kdward 'I'lil'lou came to Lill, under pretence of asking her if she wuuld SCHAHABAHAM. 1G5 liave an ice. Though she declined it, Edward remained standing- before her, endeavoring to engross all her at- tention, pretending perfect unconsciousness of Giuliani's being there. When the moment of departure came, the two men each offered her an arm. Lill felt bound to accept Giuliani's ; not for the fear of twenty Sir Mark Tuftons, would she have mortified him by showing a prefence for Edward. The Italian it was, also, who put her cloak round her. Mrs. Townsend was flirting with Sir Mark, who naturally had no eyes but for her, when she chose to be agreeable. Young Tuftou looked on as sulky as a bear. 166 WnO BREAKS — PAYS. CHAPTER XXYII. Seeing is believing. Edward Tufton's sulkiness having' outlasted his Blumbers, Lill resolved to get out of his way ami go over to Mrs. Townsead. As she was leaving the breakfast-room, Edward called out, '• Where are you going so early ?" "I beg your pardon, I did not distinctly hear your question ;" she opened her large eyes on him and spoke in a peculiarly quiet tone. He was in his right place at once ; he muttered some words she did not care to hear, rang the bell furiously, and asked for Galignani's Mes- senger. Lill found Mrs. Townsend in her own room, lying on a sofa in a peignoir, her long fair hair escaping from the comb with which it had been hastily caught up. On a table before her was something like a toy, a piece of wood in the shape of a heart, mounted on three tiny wheels ; in her hands a book with a yellow paper cover. As Lill entered, she pushed the book under the sofa pillow, and said, "Sit down by me, Lill, I have some- thing serious to say to you." Lill remembered Giuliani's words, and was sure that she was going to be cross-examined. " I have been consulting Flanchette about you," went on Mrs. Townsend. " Who is Flanchette ?" asked Lill, doing all she could to seem at her ease under the scrutiny of the little lady. " Tliere she is," said Mrs. Townsend, pointing to the apparent toy. " Seeing is l)elieving.''' So saying, she drew towards her a blank sheet of folio paper, and upon it jdaced what she called I'lauciiette : in the broadest end of the heart was a hole, in which was already fixed a ])hick-lead pencil, with the ])oint downwards. Mrs. Town- 6cni tlie first girl, half fascinated, half fright- ened. l>o you know what's the great cause of wicked ness in the world, Lill ? Poverty 1 Do you know why SEEING IS BELIEVING. 169 I !im trying to brinj^' myself to marry Sir Mark ? Be- cause 1 am poor ! my dear girl ! shun poverty more than death." Here Mrs. Townsend rang a little hand bell ; it was a summons for Madlle. Athenais. " Give me my drops quick ; you may give me a hun- dred. 1 married for love," continued she, after having SAvallowed her dose. " AVitli your habits it would be the same with you as with me : borrowing, borrowing, Lill, first from one man, then another. Impossible, j'ou say, you should do such things. You know nothing about it. Your husband's intimates see your distress, and one or other helps you, and then one gets accustomed. There's a whole set of men I hate to meet. If Sir Mark would pay them Mr. Townsend's debts I would marry the old gentleman to-morrow. Oh ! dear, and then the end of love. What years I passed with a drunken, furious man, about as like the one I married as Satan to the angel Gabriel. Lill ! Lill ! what a life mine has been ! I was meant for better things : nothing saved from the wreck ; and time is going so fast, so fast, and I shall never have known what happiness is." Lill kissed her, though unable to sympathize much. At Lill's age one feels so strong to overcome, so sure of winning where others have failed. " You don't know Mr. Giuliani," she said with some spirit ; " ho is a gentleman by birth, education, and pro- fession. He was a soldier when quite a boy." " An amateur soldier," said Mrs. Townsend, with a sneer. " He M'ill be a count when his uncle dies ; and it is only because he loves his principles better than his life, that he is poor." " Ah ! yes — his principles ; I have an idea of the sort of man : he would sacrifice you too, my dear, for his principles ! I hate Italians. My sister, my beautiful Caroline, would have her own way. She married one of these Hectors, and you should see the wreck. She is younger than me by years ; she looks like my mother ; grey-haired, haggard, neglected. What does her fine Marco care about her. He does not drink, to be sure, but he leaves her for the pleasure of conspiracy. While 15 170 WHO BREAKS — PATS. she sits at bome^trerabliag for his life and liberty, mend- ing her children's clothes by the light of a miserable brass lamp, he is contributing his thousands of francs for some mad plot or other. I wish you could see her, or read her letters ; you would then learn what comes of marrying a man with principles. Better far marry Edward Tufton, manage him and live respectably iu your own country, than go roaming the world with a man whose greatest recommendation is his beard ; he'd do famously for a Chasseur." If Giuliani truly was deficient in the prestige of beauty, his physiognomy was one nevertheless full of serenity and nobleness, significant that the soul reigned supreme over the body. " I cannot sit quietly by and hear you talk so of a person I respect ; one, too, whom 1 have the greatest reason to respect," said Lill, her eyes full of angry tears. "It is all fcr your good I speak," re])lied Mrs. Town- send' " He may be a good Italian, a white fly ; but you don't love him I tell you, or you would behave very differently : you like his love, but not himself. Every girl almost has a scrape of this kind, out of which her friends extricate her, and she's all the better for it after- wards : it steadies her for life : I wish to God some ono had helped me." Mrs. Towusend was not to be recognized in this mood for the little coquetish sylph who seemed as if she had been fed on sugar plums all her life. She caught a view of lierself in the mirror opposite, and was struck with her own ajjpearance. " I shan't say any more to you, Lill ; sec what a fright talking sense to you has made me. For the last time, take care what you are al)out. Sir Mark would be glad to see you starve, if you married that Italian. He had the face of atiger all dinner-lime yesterday; and I'^.dward Tufton frizzled up his fnni.y little moustache just like au a» ht forth a crisis. " My dear, it was something' Mrs. Caledon said which put Mr. Edward on the track." '''J'rack ! what a nice word ! track of what? of Mr. Giuliani ?" Here the chaporone's love and fear made her brave the lightning of Lill's eyes, the angry quivering of the delicate nostrils. " Oh ! Lill, my dear child, do be ad- vised ; don't go any more to Lady Ponsonhy's." " And so you have been giving him an account of her visitors. I am surrounded l»y spies !" and away rushed Lill to her own room, locking and double-locking her door. What was she to do ? How was she to act ? Every one about her warning her against Mr. Giuliani. Even Mrs. Townsend, who, if any one could be so, must be un- prejudiced. If she could only undo what she had done I That she might do so she knew, for she was sure that her folly (she called it folly unconsciously) was unknown to any one but their two selves. She was without feai of /ns claiming aught of her unforced promise to him— unforced, yes ! but his face, his tone of voice, had over- come her. His face, the face with which he had told her he loved her ; his air, the day her horse's hoofs had covered him with dust, rose before her. She clasped her hands before her eyes to shut out the apparition, but it pertinaciously thrust itself between her eyes and fingers. She could never — no, never — have the courage to play him false ; to inflict misery on so good a man, so fond of her. He had always been so unhappy, so un- fortunate ; she must bear the consequences of her own act. Lill said so to herself, but her mind still worked to find some outlet of escape. No one prays audibly to the devil for help — but he is cognizant of the slightest conceived wish for his aid. The serpent reminded Lill instantly of Edward 'I'ufton's menace against Mr. Giuliani : she told herself that she was afraid to brave that silly boy ; impossible, therefore, that she could venture that Saturday evening to Lady Ponsonby's. She dared not risk a collision between the'two men. Edward must go away after what had just occurred, 15* 174 WHO BREAKS PAYS. and then she would be free to act as she pleased. Lili gave a great sigh of relief; she had gained some breath- ing time. She had not courage to write another note of apology, she had done so for three Saturdays running ; it would be almost insulting : she would let it appear a. chance. In the meanwhile she could consider whether it would be better or not to avow her situation to Lady Pousonby. Lill did not sound the depths of her own sincerity, or she would have owned that she feared too much what Lady Ponsonby's advice miearance. Sir Mark sent to beg her to come into his private room. He hid his wrapped-up foot under a fold of his dressing- gown, receiving her with a cheerfulness that made Mi^s Crumpton, with ineffable naivete, exclaim, — " Well. Sir Mark ! you are a wonderful man for hiding pain ! Mrs. Townsend, you have no idea how dreadful his poor foot has been." Sir .Mark's upper lip rose, showing his teeth; he was as like a vicious terricu" as possil)le. " What's conxe lo you ?" he said, wlien Mrs. Townsend sat down (piielly, without the ie.ist aitpmacii to any joke "You liavo made yourself look like a tjuakeress." "Sir Mark, I have hail other things to think of fo-day than dress." "'IMh' deuce you have ! money to pay for it. ])crhiips?" A faint pink coloured .Mrs. Townsi'iul's pale checks; ■he |)ut a visil)ie conHraiiit on herself as she ausworod,— FORTT-EIGHT neURS. 183 " What would have been the consequence, Sir Mark, if I had married you three months ago when you were so urgent ?" "I should have been minus some 200^.,'" returned he, unconsciously unbuttoning his coat. Mrs. Towusend's little puritanical air gave way under this provocation; she burst into one of her merriest laughs. " Don't be afraid, I am not going to borrow even the fourth of the sum you would have had to pay for Lady Tufton ; my question was meant as a consolation. You would rather part with me than your money, wouldn't you, Sir Mark ?"' she added in her coaxing way. " By Jove 1" he said, excitedly, " you are a perfect Cleopatra." "I shan't add Antony to your name," quoth she, rising : " you wouldn't lose the world for a woman, I am sure " " i don't know what you might not make me do, if you chose," said Sir Mark, holding out his hand towards licr "You are very harsh to Lill," said Mrs. Townsend. " She is so defiant, yet she is not aboveboard as you are ; your truth is what I like in you." "Thanks— 1 thought you liked everything about me. "And so I do — 1 do," said the delighted old man, trying to take her hand. " Promise that you'll grant my request, and 1 11 let you kiss my bluest vein. Cleopatra said that; you know my authority — Shakspeare." _ " Well, what is it?" asked Sir Mark, rather peevishly, "Afraid of his purse," pretended to whisper Mrs. Townsend to Miss Crumpton; then to Sir Mark: "Re- peat after me these words : 'I promise faithfully upon my solemn word of honour to behave with decent temper to my preltv granddaughter in all cases, and never io turn her out of doors without a dowry, whether I, Sir Mark, marry witht)ut her consent, or she marries without mine, in faith of which I kiss the Bible and Mrs. Towusend's hands ;' I will have it so," she continued, as she drew back from the small Bible she suddenly presented to him, adding, — 184 WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Kiss both or none." Sir Mark yielded, glueing his withered lips to tha delicate hand. "There, that will do," she said, drawing it back. "You are a witness. Miss Crumi^ton ; now good-bye, and good luck to you all." " What are you going away so soon for ?" asked Sir Mark ; " can't you stay ? You magnetize my pain, you little enchantress." "Sorry I can't oblige you," she said, nonchalantly; " duty calls me away." " Nonsense ! come, ask me for something more — something for yourself." She shook her head. " Pleasant dreams, old friend — dreams of the sums you have saved by not having me for a wife." " You shall have the horses you set your heart upon," he began ; he stopped, for she was gone. Sir Mark mused a little, then he bid Miss Crurapton see if Mrs. Townsend was with Miss Tufton. " Tell her I want to say only two words to her. I must see her again, do you hear ?" Mrs. Townsend had left the house. " Send after her," said Sir Mark, angrily. " Go your- self, Miss Crumpton " In a quarter of an hour, the chaperone returned. Mrs. Townsend w^as not at home. The annoyance helped to bring back a paroxysm of pain. Half a dozen times messages were sent to Rue de Cirque— always the same reply: Mrs. Townsend was not at home. Sir Mark would not allow Edward Tufton to leave for England. No one in Sir Mark's house had much rest that nisrht. FOREVER — NEVER. 185 CHAPTER XXXI. Forever — Never. Before half-past nine o'clock the next morning Lill went with Ruth to the Rue de Cirque. No Mrs. 'lowa- eend ; but a letter for Sir Mark, which Madlle. Athenaia delivered with great volubility, praising her.self for having followed Mrs. Townsend's instructions faithfully, " Ma- dame had desired that no one should know of her de- parture till the next day, and Madlle. Athenais has been hard-hearted to every anxious inquiry. Madame had left plenty of money for her apartment and for Madlle. Athenais, who would seize the occasion to take a trip to see her parents at Orleans." "Is Mrs. Townsend gone to England?" asked Lill, •who had at first been struck dumb with astonishment. " I could not say, mademoiselle ; madauie gave me no hint." " Her luggage — surely you saw the directions ?" " Ha ! that makes me think," said iha/emme de chain- bre ; " madarae has written mademoiselle's name on various small articles." Madlle. Athenais est de toute fidilit4. Mademoiselle Tufton would be so good as to give her an acknowledgment that she had received these articles. The letter to Sir Mark would, without any doubt, explain Madame Townsend's movements ; but if not, Madlle. Athenais would be tempted to think that Madame Town- send was still in Paris; she took away her trunks in ■fiaae ; but Madlle. Athenais had only heard madame tell the cocker to drive to the Arc de I'Etoile ; but that, as Madlle. Tufton could understand, was merely throw- ing dust into the listener's eyes. At this stage of the conversation madame la propri^- taire came down in her petticoat and camisole, her hair not yet dressed, looking ten years older in her morning than she did in her evening costume. " Cette chfere dame ! ah ! j'ai grande peur," and here came a significant tap on the proprietaire's forehead 16* 186 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " Quelque coup de tgte, soyez sure, mademoiselle ; et la voiture et les jolis ponies. Qu'est-ce qu'on en fera?" Miss Tufton supposed there were directions in tlie letter she held in her hand, addressed to Sir Mark ; " she would see madame la propri^taire again after having spoken to Sir Mark." The letter consisted of half a dozen lines, — " Dear Sir Mark, " It will be of no use your trying to find me, as I don't intend to marry you. 1 make you a present of my car- riage and ponies, and I give Lill Tufton all the baubles you lavished on me. I am going where the adorning is not to be that of plaiting the hair and of wearing of gold. Let Lill have the trinkets in peace. Don't forget your promise as to her. Take example by me, and think of the next world before it is too late. " HONORA TOWNSEND." Sir Mark's face, as he read it, took the ashy hue it had had on his arrival from EngUind with Mrs. Town- Bend. Lill thought, but she might be mistaken, that there was a tear in each of Sir Mark's eyes as he threw down the letter on the table. " May I read it. Sir ISlark !" asked Lill. " No ;" and he put it into his pocket. He would wish Lill and every one around him to be- lieve that there was still some link between him and Mrs. Townsend — that all was not broken off. "We must start for England directly, Miss Tufton. Can you be ready this afternoon ?" " Gracious me !" ejaculated Miss Crumpton ; " and your pain. Sir Mark." " I am in no pain, Miss Crumpton." " Hut Sir Mark, it's a physical impossibility to be ready to-day — not if I were to be on my knees before trunks from this time till sunset." " No later than the midday train to-morrow." said Sir Mark, " if you have to leave all your iVippiTv behind. Do you hear, Miss Tufton? to-morrow at midday — my business won't wait." Sir Mark said his business wouldn't wait to every in- dividual he came across. His anxiety to hide the wound FOREVER — NEVER. 187 he had received gave him courage to control all out- break of passion. " I have some visits I ought to pay before going away," said Lill. " Do what you like ; but remember, ready or not, I go to-morrow." Lill had heard and understood all her grandfather was gaying, but her brain was busy with her own situa- tion. She must see Giuliani; she must explain the present crisis to him. How was she to manage ? No chance of finding him at his own lodgings in the fore- noon, and even if he were at home, what would he tliink of her going to him alone ? And dared she ask him to come and see her ? Suppose Sir Mark should find him, or even Edward Tufton ? well, then she would tell the truth and take the consequences. First of all, however, she would see Lady Ponsonby : she was determined now to ask that dear old lady to advise and guide her ; how she wished she had done so sooner; but who could ever have dreamed of such a catastroi)he. Where could Mrs. Townsend be? Was she in England? Did Sir Mark know ? Lill doubted it, but she had no time for conjec- tures as to any one's affairs but her own. She drove to Mrs. Caledon's and paid a hasty visit there, long enough, however, to hear tliat Giuliani had been named to a professorship som '.vh tp in the south of France ; Mrs. Calcdon could not rem 'inl)er the town. In a fever of excitement Lill then went to Lady Pon- sonby's. The concierge told her that Miledi was out of Paris; she was gone to Marseilles to meet her son just returned from the Indies. Lill's heart sank — fate was against her. " Go to the Rue de Berlin," she said, brave from excess of fear. " Mr. Giuliani was not at home." She wrote on one of her visiting cards that she begged him to call next morning on her as early as eight, before eight if he could, she was setting off for England the next day. Sir Mark went through all the business preparations consequent on this rapid move with peculiar quiet. He did not swear once, that either Lill or Miss Crumpton heard. They saw little of him, however, Edward Tuftoo being there to execute his orders. 188 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Lill sat in a sort of forlora way, watching Ruth pack her trunks. She had not energy enough even to open the boxes brought to her by Madlle. Athenais. When bedtime came, she called Miss Crumptoa in her room. Crummie, you must help me this once ; I will never ask you again to do anything of the kind : this once you must ; if you don't I am so thoroughly miserable I shall commit some folly ; promise me, Crummie." " Ah ! well, my dear, if it must be so." " I must see Mr. Giuliani before I go ; I have asked him to come to-morrow morning at eight. I am sure he'll come. Crummie, you must stay in the drawing-room, while I speak to him in the little room. If you hear any one coming, call to us ; will you, Crummie ? I must and will see him, whether you agree or not. You may bring a downright misfortune on me if you won't help me." Crummie, of course, promised. Lill gave Ruth the strictest orders to call her at six ; and left her blinds open that the light might rouse her. There seemed at first every chance of her being already awake at six o'cluck, for she heard all the small hours of the night strike and was awake at five, but she fell into a heavy feverish slumber just before six. She started up, however, at Ruth's summons, her face like wax, except for the dark purple circle round her eyes. " Ruth," she said, " I expect Mr. Ciuiiani to call this morning — my Italian master, you reniember." Lill was trying to impose upon her maid. "Show him into the back drawing-room. I want you to watch for him. tliat there may be no mistake about his coming for Sir Mark or Mr. Tuflon. I don't want to disturb Sir Mark." Lill fetched Miss Crunipton downstairs; not a word f)assed between them. As eight o'clock struck, Lill leard the door of the apartment open quietly. Ruth understood her business. At that instant, lii'li wished slie liarr. (iin]i;ini to come. Wliat shonM she say to him? She ran into the little room with the feeling of one seeking escape from an avenger. She knew he wa.s in the room with hfr, but slie couKl not look u|) or speak. Ue spoke to her in his usual voice ; she did not hear FOREVER — NEVER. 189 the words, but started, saying, " Hush ! don't speak so loud." " Why are you so agitated, Miss Tufton ? Of what are you alViiid ?" Then she raised her eyes to his face. He was per- fectly composed ; more, he had a sort of smile on hia lips. Something in his look and bearing stung her to the quick. " Won't you sit down ?" she said mechanically. " Thank you, no ; you must have a great deal to arrange for your departure ; very unexpected, I believe." " Quite," she answered. " Sir Mark only said we were to go yesterday morning. I let you know as soon almost as I knew myself." He did not reply. " Mrs. Townsend is the cause of this move," she went on ; "I did mean — I did not mean." Why would he not speak ? She was rufiBed ; it was not fair of him ; he ought to make allowances for her, so she took the offensive. " Mrs. Caledon told me yesterday you were going to leave Paris. Did you mean to go without telling me ?" " Probably." " You are very unkind, Mr. Giuliani. I don't think I deserve that." " Oh ! Miss Tufton." " Why do you call me Miss Tufton ?" she flashed out. " Do you wish me to call you Perla ?" and he half smiled. It was a curious battle, in which Lill would be sure to wound herself more deeply. " You play with my feelings ; you make me angry on purpose." "God forbid! I wish, on the contrary, to make you understand yourself." " My dear," here called in Miss Crumpton. Ruth had put her head anxiously into the drawing-room. " Miss Crumpton warns you— us," said Giuliani, *' that it is useless to prolong this scene. Miss Tufton, farewell ! I will remember you in my prayers always, aa Perla." He clasped her hand for an instant, and wag hastening from the room, but she ran after him. 190 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Mr. Giuliani, Mr. Giuliani, oh ! don't go so ; will yon write to me ?" " I will answer any letter you address to me." " You are not angry with lue," and her pale lips worked with the effort not to cry. " No, no, not angry," be said, much as he might have spoken to a child. " You could not help what you have done." She clung to his arm. " I cannot bear to see you go away ; oh ! pray, if I only knew what was best." He held her in his arms one instant, the next he placed her in those of Miss Crumptom, and Lill heard the door close. " Don't let me scream, Crummie," she said — " don't," and she hid her face in her old friend's bosom. THE SACRED IIOCR OF FOUR. 191 CHAPTER XXXII. The Sacred Hour of Four. "While Lill, with a jarred heart and head, was with Sir Mark and his party on tlio road to Dover via Calais, Lady Ponsonby and Alicia wore journeying from IVEar- seilles to Paris, with their interesting invalid, Sir Fred- erick Ponsonby. Hir Frederick is that eldest son of Lady Ponsonby already mentioned in the last chapter, lie is come back to Europe on sick leave, and looks certainly a little languid, just sufficiently so to alarm his tender mother. But, in fact, the journey home has almost sot to rights whatever had been the matter with his health. Lady Ponsonby had not recognized in the tall, hand- some, moustached man, the slender stripling of sixteen who had left her ten years ago. She was now obliged to look up to him, and she did so with a mother's pride in his strength and comeliness. An intellectual face, or one expressive of frankness and benevolence, is all that a man need have of beauty, to insure him his portion of that peculiar affection which eives savour to life. Besides having this intelligent face, with the good expression. Sir Frederick Ponsonby had uncommonly regular features : fine dark gray eyes, a straight nose, a perfectly well shaped mouth, glossy chestnut hair ; in a word, that sort of head which our neighbours over the water define as a tUe de Christ. Lady Ponsonby was full of admiration for this un- known son. She sat opposite to him in the railway car- riage, and when he shortly fell asleep, as gentlemen occasionally do on railways, she watched him with exactly the same adoration in her eyes, as had been there when she kept vigil by his cradle some six-and-twenty years ago. She had had many fears for him during the last half-score of years — fears of battles and murder, of cholera and cobra capcllos, of debts and duns, and the sundry other dangers, which, as every reflecting mother knowa, exist for her son. But as she studies her Fred 192 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. erick s brow, almost as smooth as when he left her — when she traces no network of lines round his eyes, sees no dragging down of the corners of the mouth — she feels assured he has come out safely from the tempta- tions of that wilderness called the world. Lady Ponsouby arrives in Paris a happy woman and a proud mother. Her friends are enthusiastic about Sir Frederick ; they are more attentive in calling than ever; even Madame de Rochepont de Riviere finds the young baronet endurable. " He was a man," she declared, "for whom a woman might be excusable in having a heartache. I maintain," she added, " that the English are the handsomest nation in the world," and her con- temptuous glance at Giuliani gave point to the asser- tion. Certainly Giuliani was not at that time a specimen of his country, that would do to set up as a rival to Sir Frederick. The Italian was thinner than ever, his face more rugged with deep lines, his magnificent eyes (they, at least could stand a comparison with the young En- glishman's) were sunken and without lustre. His whole person revealed the indescribable marks made l>y the hand of sorrow. He appeared what he was, the incar- nation of disappointment ; Sir Frederick, that of success. The one man had been gathering thorns all his life; the other, figs. The one had seen his country in deadly throes of travail for liberty, when she had had no strength for the birth; the other had always known his mother- land mistress of herself. triuni])haiit in every quarter. A blighted oak is a desiraltle object on canvass, or in a word-picture ; a good subject to moralize or poetize on, but we all prefer to have fine flourishing trees in our avenues. Giuliani, was as much out of his jjlace in Parisian society as a lightning-blasted oak in a parterre. He acknowledged this himself, by the disposition he showed to retreat from its musk-perfumed atmosphere, and wIkmi furred into it, felt no resentment towards those who made iiim the target of their hutimots. Ue felt the discrepancy that existed between him aud his admirable friend's beau-ideal of a son. They bad met with the cordiality of old ac(|uaintance8 ; they never got beyond this outward show. THE SACRED HOUR OF FOUR. 193 When Sir Frederick had beeu in Paris, let us say a month, his mother and sister remarked a certain method in Ills disposal of his day. Regularity had not beeu the distinguishing trait oi' his life on his first arriving in Paris. For the five years previous, a lucrative staff ap- pointment had banished him to an outpost somewhere in the mountains of Scinde. Well, Paris was a great change ; and Sir Frederick had not enough of eyes or ears for all he desired to see or hear. At the end of four weeks, he subsided suddenly into a methodical person ; his day was parcelled out minutely. He seemed to have i)ut himself to school again ; a pro- fessor of the French language attended to enable him to rub up his French, which had rusted considerably during the ten years in India. He had lessons of sing- ing, attended some popular lectures, but invariably at the hour of four in the afternoon he went out, either on horseback or on foot, dressed in a manner that denoted a special wish to do his handsome person justice. On his return, there was always some costly flower in his button-hole which was afterwards transferred to a par- ticularly elegant vase, on his writing-table ; and which had not been placed there by either his mother or sistcsr Many other small articles of bijouterie, in exquisite taste, rather than costly, came to keep the pretty vase company. Occasionally I>ady Ponsonby met her son's valet with a letter in his hand, not for the post ; and I am sorry to add, that her ladyship's bonne made an opportunity to inform madame, that a commissionnaire brought a billet pour monsieur every morning before monsieur was out of bed. Lady Ponsonby saw, heard, and was silent. She had a great respect for every one's personality, She was rewarded by her son's never wisliing to exchange her roof for a separate apartment of his own. Sir Frederick was in love ; nothing surprising in that at seven-and-twenty ; but who with? That at present was what he kept to himself. At last, one day in July, Sir Frederick did not go out at four o'clock, but at that hitherto sacred hour walked into his mother's salon, languid and listless, like a fish 17 194 WHO BREAKS — PATS. out of water, or rather, perhaps, like a man in the firsi days after retiring from business. He had Galignani'a Messe7iger in his hand. Giuliani was with the ladies, and Sir Frederick per- ceived at once that, whatever mitiht have been the sub- ject of their conversation, they changed it as soon as he appeared. This of itself did not please him — it would not have been easy to please him at that moment — so he retired unsociably into the depths of an arm-chair, and seemed engrossed by his newspaper. Lady Pon- sonby made one or two efforts to draw him into conver- sation ; she was very sensitive as to his showing any slight to the Italian; but Frederick was determinedly sulky. Suddenly, however, he asked.— "Haven't I heard some of you mention Miss Tufton? no, it was Valentine told me she and her grandfather had been in Paris." There was a little awkward silence in the room, such SS always occurs when some one mentions a subject in ignorance of how interesting it is to one nf those uresent. Lady Ponsonby said, — "What makes you think of the Tuftons at this mo- ment?" ''Miss Tufton's name is here," he replied, tapping a column of Galiijnani ;"at the head of some preposter- ous description of the dress she went to court in ; such hiiniliug, filling a newspaper with milliner's jargon. I am thinking, mother, of rnnning over to England to take a look at the old Priory and Monk's Cai)el farm, and as these 'I'uftons' will be my nearest neighbours, 1 wanted to know how you liked them." "Sir Mark is a character," said Lady Ponsonby. " AVhich means he is disagreeable ; and the young lady ?" ' "A pretty creature." Here Mr. Giuliani took his leave. Anothc* pause. " T sup])()se there arc some habitable r ^ms in tho Pnory ?" went on Sir Frederick. "Arc you really off in such a hurry, Fred?" asked Alicia. "Oh, yes! Paris is insufTcrable in this weather. Why shouldn't you both go over with me, eh, mother '' THfi aAORED nOCR OF FOUR. 195 "Not at tliis flash-of-lightnirif? speed, my dear boy. You forget I am au old woman, accustomed to do as I like. Now, that is, perhaps, the only thing I shouldn't be able to do in England." " My dear mother, what do you do here that you couldn't do in England ?" Sir Frederick's voice showed disturbance. " Fred, in our dear native land, all is convention, constraint, or fiction ; everything done by rule ; there's a particular way of eating, drinking, and speaking. Fancy your distress if I blundered in the way I held my knife, or ate my soup, or pronounced some word, or, worse still, made use of some word banished from gen- teel society. Alicia, too, would get into all sorts of scrapes, which you would have to take the responsibility of. There are a hundred other difficulties I could never conquer now; I am too old to learn. The servants ! — no, my dear, I should be frightened to death at an English dinner-party; you know I have not been to one for twenty years, and your sister never." "All which means, mother, that you have given up your own country." " My good Fred, I am grown a citizen of the world. 1 do not believe any nation has a mcmopolyof goodness ; there are probably as many righteous people on this side of the Channel as on the other. I stay here simply because fate transplanted me long ago, and I have taken root in the soil of France ; old trees don't bear moving well, Fred. I would try it, however, for your sake, if I saw that you needed me ; but you do not just now, when you have no house to put me in ; and London I protest against. The Thames would kill me in a week." " Oh, mother, mother ! and you dare to say that with such nosegays of streets as you have here." " Habit, my dear, has long since appeased my sensi- tiveness with regard to these; it is the being called on to accustom myself to a new atmosphere which 1 deprecate." The day before Sir Frederick started for England Lady Fonsonby paid a visit to Mr. Giuliani in his attic. " I have come to ask you," she said, " whether it might not be as well to take Sir Frederick into uur confidence 190 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. — to explain to him liow Miss Tufton is situated with regard to you." Giuliani's olive complexion turned a shade darker as he listened to this speech. He took time before he gave his answer, and then it was given with deliberation and decision. " No ; certainly not. In fact, it is Miss Tufton's se- cret, not mine ; besides, I am not the man to put forward claims, so as to isolate a girl, to hem her within a magic circle, out of which she cannot escape but into my arms, or by a painful exposure. My dear friend, let her alone, and look upon me as one recovering from a fit of insan- ity. I have swallowed one remedy to-day. I bought the Galignani which has her name in it. How reason- able it is to expect that the young lady figuring at the proudest court in Europe, (m an (Mjuality with the jjroud- est aristocracy in the world, could accept of this garret, or one similar to it, for her home ! To suppose that Miss Tufton would consider the world well lost for love of me is simply al)surd." Lady Fonsonby sigiit'd, but had no argument to op- pose to what Giuliani said. "I do not affirm, liowcvrr," he added, "that were I still in the position in which I was born, that I would not have struggled against all rivals for her love. I do not allirm even now, that did my conscience allow me to pursue her, I might not make her love me. She is not en- tirely worldly, and all Knglish women, to their praise be it said, believe in love, and desire to marry and he mar- ried for love; so that if she knew how 1 loved her. — Well, in all probability she will never be enlightened on that subject." Lady Punsonby sighed again, and said, — "To be canditl with you, (jliuliani, I fear the impres- sion she may make on my son, unless he is forewarned." " He is forearmed against her, ilear lady, and even were this not the case, I say again, let her aloue — I must b(! all or nothing." " Forearmed !" repeated Lady Ponsouby, in an eager voice. She was not too ))erfcct lo feel very lively curiosity and particularly iu this instuucc. THE SACRED IIOUK OF FOUR. 197 Giuliani bowed with a look that said plainly enough, " You will Lear no more from me." The intelligent, sympathizing friend left the attic, wondering at and admiring Giuliani's strength of char- acter, while his heart, poor fellow, was scorching in the furnace of jealousy she had lighted ; while he was ready to throw up his arms and cry out: '• My trial is beyond my strength !" There was additional pain also, in the certainty that this faithful friend was unconscious of his great burden of sorrow. So it must always be. It is among the hard tasks life gives us to learn, that of the fruitlessness of the hunt we all undertake for the one who will sympathize with, and understand, and rightly judge us. It is not only death, which every one of us must meet alone, but every temptation, every agony, that assails us throughout our mortal career. If we require an example of the insufficiency of the best of earthly friends in our great needs, let us read the twenty- seventh chapter of St. Matthew. We shall find there, also, in what spirit we are to bear the loneliness, the desertion, the anguish, which perchance we reap unde- servedly. 17* 1 93 WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XXXIII Country Neighbours. The method of English life, laughingly caricatured by Lady Ponsonby was telling on Lill. After a month in Loudon she was inclined to believe she had dropped down in Paris into a sphere immeasurably removed from that in which she lived in England : beginning to shrink from the recollection of many things she had done in Paris. Had she been in London, they could never have occurred ; she had been moonstruck, possessed. She had ruined her life. There was an unfortunate simikrity ia this judgment on herself to that which Giuliani passed on himself; with this diflereuce, that the result she feared as ruin would have been bliss to him, and vice versd. Lill certainly had never been so patriotic as since her return from the Continent. She allowed that she had not known l)efore how beautiful her native land was. She' could scarcely restrain a cry of delight when she first caught sight of Wavering, as they were driving from the station to the hall. The sun was setting, its long, slant- ing rays drawing a broad line of gold along the tops of the hedges ; the summits of tlie wavy uplands beyond, sheets of brightness ; the woods nestling within their fohls of deep pur])le ; the village houses clustered round the gray-walled church like a brood of chickens round a motlier hen. Lill was completely captivated by the spell of familiar scenes. " England seems to agree with you better than France, Miss Tnflon," said Sir Mark, in the course of the eve- ning. "You studied too hard, perliaiis, in Paris." Sly shots of this kind never failed to provoke Ijill To her, as to most im])ulsive people, suspense on any Puliject was inlolcraitlc. IJetter be killed at once than be always (caring dcalli ; so she replied. — "It is very good of you, Sir Mark, to find so praise- wort iiy a motive for the dulness you seem to have remarked in me, but you are mistaken as to the cause. i COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. 199 I never was so idle in my life as during the last montli of our stay in Paris." " You had better not irritate me, Miss Tufton," was all he said. " How much or how little do you think he knows ?" asked Lill of Miss Crumpton, the first time they were alone. The chaperone's answer was not consolatory. " I never knew so cunning a man ; he says things quite at hazard, just to throw people off their guard." Lill thought the tone of voice in which this speech was made was very like that of one who had suffered from Sir Mark's shrewdness. She had her own ideas of the quarter from whence Sir Mark might have gleaned information, but she spared the old lady. " I must write to Paris, Crummie," went on Lill ; " I have not written a line since the note to say we had ar- rived." No answer from Miss Crumpton. "And then, Crummie, you will be so kind — will you not ? — as to take my letter to the post-office at Wavering yourself. I cannot let the servants see the direction. Ruth would know the name, if none of the others did." Still a silence on Miss Crumpton's part. " Yes, Crummie ; and please, i/ou must write the address ; if Mrs. Pybus remarks it, she will fancy you are writing to some one on business, and she might not think that, if she saw my hand. Dear Crummie, I am in the scrape, and you must help me." " Oh, my dear girl, if you would be advised !" Lill put her hands to her ears. " Crummie, it's of no use," and she ran out of the room. Certainly half-an-honr had not elapsed before the young lady rea]>pcared with a letter in her hand. "Done already!" exclaimed Miss Crumpton. " Yes, and now, Crummie, direct it." Miss Crumpton yielded — she always yielded — and wrote the address. " Now, Crummie, you go at once, and I will come in the pony chaise, and meet you at the AYhite Gate ; and we'll go and call on the Pantons. to gratify you with a sight of your model of perfection, M iss Altheniiah. Now go, dear Crummie, and don't let Sir Mark catch you," 200 WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Poor Crummie !" went on Lill to herself, as slie stood at the window watching Miss Crunipton stealing through the shrubbery, " you have cleverly adopted the stage walk of a traitor. Who that sees you eould doubt you were bent on some unholy errand." The Wavering post-office was at t]\e village grocery. Every one knows what it is like : it stands high above the road, has a low white gate ; then three steps of brick, and a yard of steep pathway between box borders ; little plots, in which are heartsease, and a red geranium or two, some tall larkspurs, and a great red dahlia, dark red roses clustering up to the very roof, as they never will cluster on a gentleman's house ; a latticed window on either side of the door, above which is a white board, with "Kczia Pybus licensed dealer in tea, tobacco, and coffee." As Miss Crumpton came in sight of the little gate a tall gentleman was in the act of mounting a fine horse. Who could it be ? Miss Crumplou has no idea. A stranger. She hurries a little, but before she is near enough to have a good view of his face, he throws a small silver coin to Kezia's youngest boy, who has been hold- ing his horse, and rides away sitting in his saddle in that lounging way which makes uninitiated spectators wonder that the rider remains a rider two seconds. Miss Crump- ton had intended to drop Lill's letter into the box, with a hope it might pass unheeded, but the sight of the care- less horseman made her alter her mind. She opened Mrs. Pybus' door, w'hich, as all similar doors do, rang out a loud peal. "Your servant. Miss Crumpton," said Kezia. "How are you, miss, to-day?" Wavering folks would have thought it bad manners to have said " ma'am " to a lady who was not married. "Quite well, tliank you. Mrs. Tybus," and as Miss Crum])ton laid down her letter on the counter, slie saw another lying tlicrc with "France" alsoon the counter. "And .Miss 'I'nftiin, miss — is slic jjretty well? We haven't seen her since she came home ; no, we haven't. Sure then, and yours is a furrin letter too. Strange times for us, miss. France seems a mighty deal nearer tu us than it used to be in my young days. Yes, it do indeed." COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. 201 " I did not make out who it was on horseback at your gate," said Miss Crumpton. " Lawkus !" returned Kozia, " and don't you know, miss ? That's Sir Frederick Fonsouby ; he's been down at Monk's Capel Priory. Let me see, how long be Sir Frederick here, Charlotte ?" turning to her sonsy daugh- ter; "what with the letters, and the stamps, and tlnr groceries, and Pybus' church duties, really my head ain't what it used to be — no, it ain't." " Sir Frederick been well nigh on to a month here," put in Charlotte. " Dear me !" ejaculated Miss Crumpton, " is he living at Monk's Capel, all alone in that mouldy barn of a place?" " Yes, he be, Miss Crumpton : half of the windows be out ; but he's a living in them two big rooms up-stairs, which Fordham done up last year in case he could let the shoot. I hear Sir Frederick a taken the shoot his- self, and bought Bill Fordham's black hunter; leastways, that's what I heard 'era say, Miss Crumpton." Miss Crumpton, probably by accident, managed to see, without her spectacles, that the name in the direction of Sir Frederick's letter was not Ponsonby. Lill drove — as she did everything else — impetuously; that pony-chaise, with the obstimito little Shethind pony, was among the trials of the chaperone's life. The news obtained from Mrs. Pybus was. therefore, related in a painfully disjointed manner; the rattle down the last hill fairly shook out of Miss Crumpton's head the best point of her story — the letter to some Madllc. Mathilde or M61anie something. " We shall have every particular here," said Lill, jumping out of the chaise to open a gate. " Now, Crunimie. drive up in style." Yale House was an unpretending, long, low building of red brick, bleached by years and storms to a charm- ing warm gray. The drive to the door was not an atrocious circle round a centre plot of shrubs ; no, it was broad and straight, between two sloping banks, covered with fuchsias and red j^raniums, widening as it approached the porch. The drawing-room and dining- room windows looked out on a fine lawn, terminated by 202 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. a grassy bank, on which at that moment a magnificent peacock was parading. As soon as the vain bird saw the ladies, he came strutting forward, his spread tail catching the wind ; he almost tnmbled under the nose of the mischievous pony. The instant the hall door opened, you knew you were in a sailor's house. A couple of oil paintings decorated the walls. The first showed a blue sky overhead, and on the blue sea, under the soft azure, a schooner and a brig, the distance between them bridged over by grace- fully curling smoke ; this was a representation of the capture of the slave brig Santa Maria by H. M. schooner Marmot on the Great Bahama Bank in the year 18 — . The second picture portrayed a night battle, a savage scene of the capture of the two-topsail slave schooner Dulcmea, by H. M. shooner Scapegrace, after a chase of twenty-four hours, and an action of one hour and twenty minutes within pistol-shot. The slaver's sails were riddled and falling down, and so was the mast, into an inky sea ; so pitch black was the sky, that it was only by the grace of the moon peeping out of one corner, that you could see the Scapegrace's victory. These two pictures proved the honourable way in which Admiral Panton, a man without a scrap of interest or a drop of blue blood in his veins, had come to be an admiral before he reached his sixtietli birthday; a fact that had occurred five years before Miss 'J'ufton's pony chaise stopped at the porch of Vale House. They were actions fought at long odds, but no one will care to hear about it now, when such descriptions are in the papers as that of the battle of Yolturno. Yet why not be in- terested about that old licart of oak, Admiral I'anton? He and glorious Garibaldi are chips off very siniihir blocks : the old tar fought to free slaves also, did his duty; and what can a man do more ? Tlie o])])ortiinity is not giv(>n to every one to show himself a hero. Above the one picture were a ship's cuthiss and u Bword ; above the other a bit of manallee skin, made into a whi]t, and the backbone of a sliark, at least Ad- miral Panton said it was a backbone. " Tell me the shark lias no backbone ! why, sir, tli .0 COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. 203 it is before your own eyes ; you'll believe tliem, if you won't mine." A loud hum of voices reached the hall, even through the closed door of the drawing-room. " The colonel is here,'' whispered Lill to Miss Crump- ton ; " they are battling at the hop question." Miss Tufton and her chaporone found the whole family assembled. Mrs. Panton, the two daughters Althcmiah and Eliza, the admiral, his brother the colonel, and another to whom the colonel was holding forth in a loud voice. This stranger was introduced as Sir Frederick Ponsonby. Lill at once hold out her hand, greeting him cordially, as she explained, for her dear Lady Ponsonby's sake. Let us look round the room while Sir Frederick is answering Miss Tufton's inquiries for his mother. The admiral, a round-shouldered middle-sized man, ■will not take up many lines ; his face is wonderfully variegated, all shades of red in it from scarlet down to dark purple, his eyes are weak with staring at the sun and heavenly bodies. He and his brother, the colonel, are two impatient men, always most peculiarly so to one another ; they never wait to hear the answer to any question the one asks of the other. Mrs. Panton has no great pretensions to individuality. She resembles hundreds and hundreds of other ladies of her age. She has thick bands of iron-grey hair, neat features, a faded complexion, rather bunchy in figure, though by no means stout. Her eldest daughter con- stantly invents new caps for her ; but the admiral has never been brought to think any of them becoming. " Why do you wear caps, my dear ?" he invariably asks. " My age, my own husband." Yes, that speech is Mrs. Panton's one peculiarity. The admiral is her " o\to husband." Altlioniiah, named after a throe-docker, is not pretty, but win' she is not it would be difiicut to tell ; her eyes are good, and her nose, and her mouth, and her teeth, and her hair, yet she is not pretty ; perhaps she is neither fair enough nor dark enough, or too short for the size of her head, or her shoulders too broad for her 204 WHO BREAKS — PATS. height ; but pretty she is not. Mrs. Panton will assnrfl you that Althemiah has not a fault — the most dnlii'ul child parents ever had. Among Mrs. Panton's friends, however, her pet daughter was generally called •' a nice unnoticeable little thing." Althemiah's every phrase begins with " Mamma thinks," or " Papa is of opinion." Mrs. Panton often thanked God fervently that Lill Tuf- ton was not her daughter. Excellent woman ! she had never felt any regrets that the poor girl had no mother to guide and protect her. But Lizzie Panton, called Dolly after Dolly Yardon, aged sixteen, was pretty even by the side of Miss Tuf- ton ; such sweet hazel eyes, like a dove's, anez retroussi, a clear nut-brown complexion, a short, round, active figure; met tripping along in the lanes or field, she was as pretty a model for a May queen as one could wish to see. The dear little thing has been sitting in a corner, silently nursing a lovely white kitten, with her soft ej'es fixed on Sir Freilorick — a bad habit she has acquired. She came out of her corner to greet her dear Lill. And Sir Frederick — how did he appear to the visi- tor? She thought him handsome, but did not approve of his distrait air; he looked too much as if hi were ac- customed to break ladies' hearts. His dress also struck her as being finical, like one of the figures in a French fashion-book. Miss Tufton saw all this in the manner in which well-bred young ladies manage such examina- tions. Sir Frederick had no idea that he was being tried, and judged, and sentenced, by the pair of blue eyes, the curve of whose half-lowered eyelids he was admiring. When Miss Tuflon at last remembers that she must be civil to Mrs. Panton aiul Althemiah, the colonel pounces again on Sir Frederick. " Now. if you will just listen to me, T will make it all clear as day to you. Jf the duty were taken oil', then the (Jaulshire hojis would come into the market on u par with the Stonyshire. I\Iy brother and Fordliam won't see this; but, sir, this county would be ruined — ruined — " •' Why the dickens," interrupted the admiral, who was humble under criticism as to nautical affairs, but ram COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. 205 pant on the subject of farming ; " Whj^ the dickens, I say, shouldn't brewers and consumers pay the duty, and not the farmers ? It's infamous, I say, tliat the produce of one county should be taxed, and not that of another ; it's a crying injustice.!" " My good gracious, sir — my good gracious — now just stop a minute, and I will explain it all ; put it all down on paper." Here ensued a confused duet of " Government," " By George," " Profit," " Taxes," " Sixty pounds," " Shame- ful," " Duty." The admiral stuttered with impatience, the colonel bearing down on him, and over him, with a rapidity of Utterance only to be paralleled by a first-rate comic singer. Mrs. Panton throughout talked placidly, some- times smiling when the uproar swelled. Sir Frederick's eyes, full of good-natured mirth, went in search of those of Lill. He seemed quite at home with her already. A man and woman while listening to very common-place remarks may receive very strong im- pression of each other. How otherwise account for the attachments we see and hear of, and which we know posi- tively have neither been sown nor nurtured by scientific, philosophical nor sentimental discussions ? Certainly the epoch at which two persons meet who afterwards love one another is seldom marked by clever conversa- tion. When Miss Tufton rose to take leave, Sir Frederick also shook hands. The whole Panton family went with them to the door, the admiral adjusting the apron of chaise, and complimenting Miss Tufton on her pony and her driving, and presenting her with a rose and a spray of jessamine, 'i'hey were a cordial and kind-hearted family, these Pantons. See, there is Dolly fearlessly shoving a lump of sugar into the mouth of Black Prince, Sir Frederick's horse. " Take care Dolly," says the colonel to his pet ; " don't put your silly face so near that fellow's lips. Come away, I say." Sir Frederick rode by the side of the pony chaise, reining in Black Prince to keep step with Lill's shaggy- maaed Shetland ; asking the usual questions young gen 18 206 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. tlemen ask of young ladies in the country. Was she foud of riding ? Did she ride ? Ever go to the meet, or to the balls at Z — ? Sir Frederick had heard of a picnic to be given by the regiment there, to the ladies of the neighbourhood. Lill after an instant's skirmish with her conscience which reminded her of Giuliani's dislike for ladies riding, confessed she was very fond of riding ; she did not expect to have an invitation to the picnic, as having been abroad, Sir Mark had had no opportunity of showing attention to the military now at Z— . " The Pautons were going," Sir Frederick said ; " he was sure as soon as Miss Tufton was known to be at Wavering she would be invited ; in that case would she go?" and Sir Frederick's line grey eyes pleaded most flatteringly for an affirmative. But Miss 'L'ufton was a beautiful young lady of fashion, used to flattery ; if the same look had been directed to Dolly Panton, she would have blushed and said, " Oh ! yes," in a small, trembling voice. Lill was sufficiently embarrassed, however, what to say as to Sir Mark's calling on the young baronet; she dared not answer that he would, though it seemed quite a matter of course that he siiould do so. It was a glorious day, a little sharp breeze tempering the sun's rays, a little breeze just strong enough to make tlie aspens show the silver side of their leaves. Blossom and fruit were all around ; the bronzing wheat-lields were pleasant to look upon, and the lazy cattle standing mus- ing over their own reflections wherever they could And water; there was no song of birds, but the air was musi- cal with insects' hum. Beautiful shadows coursed over the wavy uplands;. as they rush over the hedge of the road. Black Prince lays back his quivering ears, and protests against them. T/ill was pleased with the way Sir Frederick patted his horse's arched neck, in which every vein showed, and gently encouraged him by voice and hand to make accpiaintance witli the objects of his alarm; any show of gentleness in a great strong man, fascinates a woman's licait. "My pony has tried your politeness long enough, Sir Frederick," says Lill at last ; perfectly aware uoverlhe- COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. 201 less, tliat her well-bred escort would not have remained such for five minutes had he not liked to do so. Sir Firdcrick sees they are skirting the park paling^ and understands he is dismissed ; he raises his hat quite ofiF his head, and bows low. "A very good imitation of a Frenchman," observe? Lill, saucily to Miss Crunipton as he rides away. " Far better looking than his brother, Mr. Valentine,' answered the old lady. "Better looking? Why, Crummie, Sir Frederick ia handsome, and poor Valentine is only just tolerable." "That's what I meant, Lill; I dare say Lady Pon. sonby is not a little proud of this young gentleman." " lie gives me the impression of being too handsome for anything." Lill mentioned to Sir Mark at dinner, the having met Sir Frederick Ponsonby at Admiral Pautou's that after- noon. " The son of the old woman in Paris ? why hasn't he called here ?" " Because, I suppose, he is aware that in England, it is the custom for a stranger to be called on, by those who wish for his acquaintance." "Is he going to l)uild himself a house on his large property of six hundred acres ?" " He did not mention his plans to me, but as Lady Ponsonby was very kind to me Mhcn I was in Paris, I should be sorry we showed any slight to her son." " Why didn't she come with her son ?" asked Sir Mark, who had a pleasure in teasing Lill with questions ; it amused him to see her colour rise and her eyes flash, and the eflbrt it cost her to maintain her composure. I'he same sort of spirit which makes men and boys rouse dogs to snap, and bark, and fight. Sir Mark, however, could be gentlemanly and cour- teous when it pleased him, and he had no sooner seen Sir Frederick than it pleased him to be l)oth. The tall, handsome, elegant young man gratified Sir Mark's taste for the beautiful. As he looked at Sir Frederick, he wished Heaven had given him such a son. He fancied, as all do, that if this and that circumstance in his life had been otherwise ordered, he would have been a difl'er- 208 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. ent and happier man. Why should that old-fashioued Lady Ponsouby have such a son to inherit those few acres of Monk's Capel, and the wide lands of Wavering go to a poor baby of a youth who could but just claim kith with liim. "Ay, just the way all things go in the world, carefully arranged for man's disappointment," summed up Sir Mark. Sir Mark promised the young baronet leave to shoot over his preserves ; — an unkjjown event in the recollec- tion of the united parishes of AVavering and Bloomfield: moreover invited him to dinner, asking the choicest of the neierhliourhood to meet him. No wonder Sir Frederick mentioned Sir Mark in hon- ouralde terms in his letters to his mother Of Lill he observed. — " Site is an extremely pretty person, her manner rather too formed for her age. She reminds me, not her feat- ures, but the expression of her face, of Leonardo's Mona Lisa, her smile is not frank. Is she mocking at me and the world in general ? Her voice is sweet, but has a tone of defiance in it. A shade more of gentleness and Bhe would he charming COMING EVENTS. 209 CHAPTER XXXIV. Coming Events cast their Shadows before A YOUNG man in the country, neither a clergyman, noi B farmer, without mother, sister, or wife, is expected to seek the society of the female relatives of his more for tunatcly endowed male acquaintatices. Music and riding are more than excuses, they are excellent reasons for daily meetings with one's near neighbours. A canter on the short turf of a breezy common, is among the pleas- antest and most innocent diversions of life. Sir Freder- ick was therefore often to be seen on Black Prince, by the side of Miss Tiifton's horse, and the Miss Pantons' ponies. Ducts and trios were practised in the morning, to be sung in the evening. " It seems to me," said Lill, one day to Sir Frederick, " as if you and I had met before ; your face and voice are so familiar to me." " Probably some family likeness to my mother, or to Valentine or Alicia." Lill smiled, but did not say, "No, indeed, your voice and your face have that in them of which none of the others of your family can boast." Sir Frederick was indeed one of those men who are sure to bring a pleased smile on women's lips. lie was clever, accomplished, handsome, never seeking to lead the conversation, but in following it, let such gems of information drop carelessly, that it gave the idea, that if he chose to take the trouble, he could be something superior to what he was. He laughed at sentiment in a manner, that inferred he had a great share of it. For instance, one evening the following skirmish took place between him and Lill. " I saw by the way you arched your eyebrows, Miss Tufton, when I sat down to the piano, that you do not approve of men playing— you consider billiards and cigars more manly amusements." " More common certainly ; I hope you have a piano at the priory ?" " You think it must require a strong head to resist 18* 210 WHO BREAKS rATS. the danger of long evenings, and nothing particular to do." " Indeed I was not reflecting on the perils of solitude for you." "You are not so charitable then, as some other of my lady friends. I have been trying to ease the anxiety of one, by promising to look out for an intellectual middle- aged housekeeper." " It puts me out of all patience," said Lill ; "to think of the vulgar, jocular advice which is alwaj-s given to every unmarried man. That is how the spirit of society is spoiled." " What ? by the promotion of marriages ?" he asked, with laughing eyes. " Yes, I think so," she said, pettishly. Lill, it must be understood, had rushed to the conclu- sion from the beginning of their acquaintance, that Sir Frederick being Liuly Ponsonby's son, must know the situation of Lady Ponsonby's friend, Giuliani, with re- gard to herself. Believing this, she talked to him with the aplomb of a girl who considers herself out of danger of being misunderstood. " It is quite a relief," continued Sir Frederick, " to meet with some one, whose opinioTis so entirely coincide with niv own. I see you are not the least romantic, Miss Tuft..n."" " 'A primrose by the river's brink, a primrose is to mc,' and nothing more. Sir Frinlcrick." "You jjrei'cr cuuir<>rtable stone houses to the most splendid of aerial castles," She answered : " The moment one awakens from a dream, all ])leasurable emotions are over, the comforta of stone walls remain." Miss Tufton sjioke of Sir Frederfck as very amusing, with liis nonsensical assumption of being matter-of-fact. No diplomatist that ever was, or will be, can utter the contrary of what he thinks and feels, with such a suc- cessful air of truth as a young lady under twenty. Never had liill been possessed willi such a spirit of life and movement as now, Slie seemed to have forgot- ten what weariness was. Tier heart had thrown off the lethargy which had crept into it from the day she had promised it to Giuliani. It 1 eat quickly and happily; COMING EVENTS. 211 far more rapidly than ever, and with a new delight. Her days were full and pleasant, too much so to leave any time for reflection. This blessed truce with care lasted for Lill just as long as it ever lasts for any one. Since her return to Wavering, it had been her habit to write once a fortnight to l\lr. Giuliani, giving him a sort of diary of her Hie. She never omitted the name of Sir Frederick Ponsonby where it ought to occur. She meant to be in perfect good faith with the Italian. She abounded in expressions of interest for the Italian cause, dwelling long in touching words of womanly sym- pathy on the fate of the Bandicra brothers, a pamphlet about which she had lately been reading. Giuliani used to dissect these letters word by word; every sentiment or expression should have satisfied him, and so they did, on the sixth perusal. It was the first impression that was painful and alarming. The heart has a terribly sure divination of its own. Jealousy never does exist without some cause ; and as for letters, one may be certain that the real feeling of the dear one who writes, will filter through the most unconscious or the most elaborate effort at concealment. Giuliani always sat down to answer Lill's letter with the intention of pouring out on paper some of the riches of his tenderness for her. But no sooner did he make the attempt, than his pen stopped as if by a spell. Some spirit or demon whispered to him, " She does not care for you, or your love. You will only frighten her." Thus his letters to her were essays on politics, literature, the fine arts; on any subject, but that of himself and his feelings. She might have read them aloud at any market cross, except that prudent people would have objected to her corresponding at all with one who had been her Italian master. Lill, though she was too young, too inexperienced, and alas ! too iiulitl'erent, to understand that this absence of all expression of his love, anxiety, and pain, was irre- fragable proof of the existence of all three, or that, as from every other empty vessel, most noise is to be heard from an empty heart; still even she giithered from Giu- liani's letters, what no one else would have perceived, viz.; that he was for some reason or other displeased with her 212 WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XXXV. Merry England. Such was the state of things when the great evei t of the year to the youthful agricultural population of that quiet uonk of the world was to take place. The Wavering and Bloomfield school feast shut out all incidents, however grand and important, which were at a distance, just as a gate or a sapling on the fore- ground will hide an alp on the horizon. It was the day when John Larke the carpenter, famed for more than ten miles round, came out in great force as contriver and conductor of the revels. At six o'clock on that morning, he might have been seen, his hand shading his eyes, examining the sky, east, west, north and south. However promising the appear- ance of the heavens, John with both a religious and scientific knowledge of the instability of all things shakes his head to his wife's cheerful anticipations, shakes it again when Mrs. Ashton, the rector's lady, comes to him at nine o'clock, and says in her spirited way, — " Well, John, we may have the tables set in the field." " Just as you please, ma'am." " You don't pretend to fear rain to-day," exclaimed Mrs. Ashton, laughing. " Why, you see, ma'am, it don't do no harm to ex- pect." " It docs no harm to hope," interrupted the lady ; " 1 always hope the best, Joim, and the best always comes at last," she added to herself, as she tripped actively away. Stretching across the glebe field, lying between the Bchool-house and the church, were long deal tal)le3, ciiveri'd with white tabic cloths, looking from thi^ turn- ing of the road from which you first saw liloomfield, like a siieet of water. The feast would begin at two. At one, small parties of children (Icbonclicil from all 1h(> lands and woods about; the Wavering ciiildrcu came also to Uloomficld MERRY ENGLAND. 213 Bcliool, each obild carrying a basket containing a plate, sometimes two, a mug, and a knife and fork. From the back of the rectory, servants issued with large dishes, on which reposed magnificent cold surloins, or a rockwork of buns and plunicake. Before two, the Panton family arrived; Dolly in a new muslin, rosebuo' pattern, cunningly procured by the colonel through Miss Tuflon's help, being a facsimile of one of Lill's dresses which he hatl heard his pet admire. Dolly was famous for her achievements at school feasts — "a host in her- self" agreed all the rectors of the surrounding parishes. Ij[\\ and Miss Crumptoa soon appeared. '•Sh- Mark is to follow us," said Lill to Mrs. Ashton. " Indeed he is coming," she added, seeing some incredu lity on the face of the rector. " It will be the first time he has honoured us," re- turned Mr. Ashton. " How pale Dolly is !" remarked Lill to Althemiah. " Is she well ?" "Mamma does not think she is," replied Althemiah;" "but Dolly would come." The children were by this time clattering over the Denches on either side of the tables, their glittering eyes riveted on the beef and buns, most of them with their knife and fork uplifted in readiness for the attack. A smart lady's maid, in a fashionable bonnet and shawl down to her heels, is laughingly and daintily help- ing a footman to bring forward the large cans of tea. John Larke and his aid manage the beer. John ia churchwarden, and will see to it, that there is no abuse of the malt. The schoolmistress calls out, "Now, chil dren." The rector is at the head of one table, the ad- miral at the other. Dolly looks furtively round. It had been rumored that Sir Frederick, as Mr. Ashton's prin- cipal parisliioner, would take the head of the third table; but she sees Mrs. Ashton whisper to the colonel, who, a moment after calls out to her : "You come and help us, Dolly." Tiie young ladies begin to be very active ; it seems iicpossible to satisfy the demands for beef and bread. "Why are you not eating, little boy?" asked Lill. "Mustard!" he utters gutturally. 214 WHO BREAKS PATS. "Mustard!" repeats the lady's maid, condescendingly} •* poor fellow ! I'll run for it directly. Miss Tuftou." " You stay where you are," says John Larke, church- wardcnly ; " one of the men'll go quicker than you with your mincing steps." " Well, Mr. Larke, I am obliged to you for your good opinion." Carriages are arriving, and more young ladies help. Mammas and married sisters are sitting on chairs and benches, or walking round the tables as spectators. " I say, you Jim," cries out the rector's son, a fine boy of nine years old. " what's the matter w'ith you ?" "I'm fasting. Master Harry." Harry supplies him, whispering to Lill, — " Goodness ! and he has had two large helpings." In Jim's defence, be it said, he never sees roast beef but at the school feast. The lady spectators are interchanging news about their babies, or their boys and girls, or about their neighbours. " Lill Tufton is prettier than ever." "Do you think so? It strikes me her complexion was fiucr last year." " She is paler ; but Dolly Panton hast lost her colour altogether. Mrs. Panton ought to give those girls a chance of seeing more of the world ; she never seems to think of the future." " There is a fate in these things ; Miss Tufton has been enough in the world, and pretty as she is, she is not settled." " Prol)ul)]y her own fault. By-the-by, w^here's Sir Frederick? On dit. he's looking that way." " Oh, those horrid children, what a noise they make !" The beef had vanished, and so had the buns, and cakes, and bread, and the gallons of beer and tea. "Now Miss Finch," says Mrs. Asliton, "set the girls o(rplayin!r; Miss Eliza Panton will helpyou. Mr. Her- bert CoUield and his brollier are going to play cricket with tlie boys." The boy-' side of the field is very liv(>ly. aclually some of them throw olV tlieir jackets, and appear in pink sliirts. The girls as yet are ioo shy to play. Dolly leads Ian- MERRY ENGLAND. 215 gnidly, and Tom Titler is very slow. A horseman waves his hat from the road iu greeting to the assembly, and the boys give a small hurrah. Dolly's face grows bright, then clouds over. Only Sir Mark Tufton. Lill is lead- ing a party, striving all she can to put some aaimation into them. " Come, then — " " Lady Queen Anue, she sits in the sun, As fair as a lily, as brown as a bun," &c. Another cheer, a very boisterous one. This time it is all right; Sir Frederick has come on foot, and there he is, bowing to the ladies ; and now he is among the boys. The sports have received a new impetus. The true spirit of a leader has come back to Dolly ; she makes the girls run. "Who can catch her? The sun is on a level with the church roof. " It's time to leave off," whispers the rector's lady to the rector. " What are they doing ?" Who would have expected it from Sir Frederick ? There he is running at the top of his speed ; boys and girls in full chase. He runs famously : the moment he is in danger of being caught, he showers down ginger- bread nuts, or those enticing red and yellow and white concoctions, which fill sundry huge glass bottles in Mrs. Pybus's left hand-window. She will need a new supply. How odd ! How kind ! Approving looks, mocking smiles, follow the young baronet. Flushed, and the handsomer for it. Sir Frederick at last gives in, and falls, perhaps not undesignedly so, at Miss Tufton's feet; one of the smiles he thinks so mysterious is on her face, at that very instant. He looks away, meets Dolly's dear eyes, springs up as if stung, and hastens to Mrs. Ashton's side as though he had perceived that lady to be iu need of his assistance. A very substantial tea is provided on these occasions for the friends invited to the school feast. The tea is in point of fact a cold dinner. Ceremony belongs e.xclu- sively to hot dishes ; certainly there w.is very little of it that evening in the rectory dining-room. The gentle- men who had a right to the highest seats were in the lowest. Sir Mark Tufton was beside Althcmiah ; Sir Frederick next to the rector's daughter, a young lady 216 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. of eleven years old. Ralph Colfield had manoeuvred himself iuto a seat by Dolly. Every one and every thing in that handsome room de- noted prosperity. All the" guests round the rector's hospitable table were favoured children of the earth. Not one had ever known the heart-breaking, up-hill work of a struggle for mere material existence ; none had an idea of the fruitless rolling of a wheel, or of pouring water into sieves. Yet smooth as those lives appeared, every one was troubled and vexed with a rumpled rose- leaf. Even that pretty sixteen year old Dolly would have said, had you asked her opinion of the world, " that it wars all vanity and vexation of spirit." The company parted early : while they were standing in a confused group, waiting for the carriages, Sir Frederick came to Miss Tufton with her burnous over his arm. " This is yours, I am sure," he said. " I am at a loss to guess how you made the discovery," returned Lill. " Are you not partial to the perfume of violets ?" asked he, laying his face on the soft cachmcre. "How dare you?" rose to Lill's lips. She only re- frained on account of those about her ; but she made an attempt to take the cloak from Sir Frederick ; who mis- interpreting her action, or pretending to do so, folded the warm soft wrap round her. Tliat moment Lill's eyes met those of Dolly, who was standing where the light of the hall lamp fell on her; Lill shivered. " You are catching cold;" said Sir Frederick in his rich voice ; such a dangerous voice sometimes. " Good night, dear D\)lly," said Lill. "What did Dolly do, but give the extended hand a sharp little liip, and run away with a laugh that had no mirth in it ? Lill shivered again, and then Sir Frederick drew up the hood of her mantle, and led her to the carriage. FALSE APPEARANCES. 217 CHAPTER XXXYI. False Appearances. GoTJLD it be from cold that Lill shivered on that nalmy July night? No, indeed: it was from a sudden revela- tion made to her by the earnestly interrogatinty eyes of her little friend. Lill knew now the reason of that species of surveillance with which Dolly had lately vexed her. She saw herself standing on the brink of a precipice. She had been gliding down a slope so smooth, that she had been unconscious of its descent. Only a violent backwai'd movement could save her from going over. Sir Mark was in high good-humour during the drive home, actually joking Miss Crumpton on Colonel Pan- ton's attentions. But Lill could hear nothing distinctly, for the piercing reiteration in her ear of one word. " dis- loyal." She threw back the hood, so carefully drawn round her head, undid the fastening of the burnous, sat forward with her head out of the window, panting for breath. Haifa dozen subjects crowded her thoughts ; she •wonders the while at the green tinted flame of the glow- worm, at the blackness of the trees against the sky ; every leaf that stirs seems to her to have a threatening message. She once more cowers back into her corner. " Are you asleep. Miss Tufton ?" questioned Sir Mark. " No, only too tired to talk." " I have invited a dozen of the people we met to-day to dine with us the day after to-morrow." Lill roused herself to say, "That is very short notice." " So it is. Miss Tufton, but I wanted to have that capital fellow, Sir Frederick, before he goes to Paris. Metal more attractive there, than my partridges and pheasants." " Thank God !" very nearly burst from Lill's lips. " I beg vour pardon," said Mai-k, politely. " For what ?" " For not having heard what you said." Lill at that instant would have been grateful for the prop of a friendlv word ; verv good impulses were in her 19 ' 218 WHO BREAKS — PATS. heart, but Sir Mark's ironical manuer, as it always did, oraced her spirit up to defiance. " If you wish to know what I thought, but did not in- Intend to express, it was that I was glad Sir Frederick was going to see his mother. After being away ten years, he might give some weeks to her." " Upon ray word, Miss Tufton, I am pleased at your austere ideas of duty to parents ; surprised at yoit philosophic indifference to one of the handsomest and pleasantest young fellows I ever met." "You ought to have said rejoiced instead of sur- prized. Sir Mark, considering, as you say, there is metal more attractive in Paris ; but for my indiflerence, I should have had to wear a willow wreath at your dinner- party." Sir Mark, at the mention of the willow wreath, ab- stained from a further attack. Alone, with her bedroom door locked, Lill sat with her head within her hands. No need to reflect or ex- amine herself. Slic knew what had happened, knew that her heart beat wildly for some one, and that one not Giuliani. He was for ever driven out of the sanctu- ary promised to him ; her joys, her sorrows, her thoughts were grouped round Sir Frederick. " What will become of me ?" she muttered, and slow, scorching tears rolled over her hot cheeks. "I must try to do right. Oh ! that I could go back to what I was only one year ago; how dilfereiitly 1 would act! If any one were to ask me why I did not say no to Mr. Giuliani when he put it in my power, I could not give a reason. I had such a confusion of foclinsrs at the time, a sort of stupid idea that I had encouraged him, and I did lilce him so much till directly afUMwards." Quite true, Lill ; you had liked him until lie added a new ingredient to your intercourse; this addition it was whicli had soured all tlie sweet tiiat existed liefurc. " All wrong, always all wrong ; so weak to be always wrong. — no. this time I will do riglit. Though 1 die for it, 1 will hold to my word." She was pacing up and down the room, talking toiler- self. She would send a letter to (iinliani by Sir Frederick : if the young baronet was not aware of hei FALSE APPEARANCES. 219 engagement, and now Lill doubted it, this act of liera would make U clear to him. As for inflicting pain on Sir Frederick in her present mood, she enjoyed the idea of doing so — she felt revengeful towards him. " No fear of this fine Leandcr dying for love of any one." It was a pleasure to her to mock at him. Then she turned round on herself, " I am a detestable creature; I declare to Heaven 1 despise myself, I know no good of this man, but that he can sing like a nightingale and ride like any trooper. I don't believe he cares a pin's head for me, and yet I am ready to follow him to the end of the world, and trample on a great and noble heart to do so; no doubt of what I would do, had I the option. Poor Giuliani ! and you actually would give your life for me, would make your body my shield any day. God help me, God help me, and drive this evil spirit out of me." Love is as insatiable as death, and prayers such as that put up by Lill never reached heaven. She had other and worse trials before her, ere rest came. The next morning Lill wrote her letter to Giuliani ; a very different one from any she had ever sent him. She made use of words which, had they been the expression of real scniinieuts, she could never have had the courage to put down on paper for him to see. While she wrote them she was thinking simply of the vexation they would cause Sir Frederick could he read them. She sealed the envelope, directed it, and added in one corner, " honoured by Sir Frederick Ponsouby." She was in the most overpowering spirits all day. When Ruth came to dress her, unlike her usual habit of reading while her hair was arranged, Ijill rattled away in an unconnected way to her maid. "Try how I should look with that great rose in the front of my hair, Ruth ; I like it — fasten it somehow — exactly in the parting." Ruth objected, first the difficulty, and then the unbe- coming oddiiess. " I don't care, I will have it so," said Lill, with sudden violence. " There, take some of the hair, and plait i in." She tmd to do it herself, but her fingers trembled 220 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. SO, she was obliged to desist. The next moment sha would not have anj- flowers in her hair at all. When Ruth had finished her labours, and Lill was alone, she took the letter for Giuliani out of her desk, looked at the address, placed it within the folds of her handkerchief, and was about to go downstairs — yes, she was resolved — her hand was on the lock of the door, when the impulse born amidst a storm of emotion gave way. She grew faint-hearted, and the letter was de- stroyed, torn into the smallest atoms. She then went down with a feeling of relief. The fever in Lill's veins flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes. Even those most familiar with her beauty were struck by its radiance this evening. " She is wonderfully lovely," thought Sir Frederick, and his eyes continually sought her. "Where is Dolly?" Lill asked of Mrs. Panton. "A bad headache — school feasts always knock her up ; and indeed, I am afraid I am wrong to let her go to grown-up parties ; Althemiah did not till she was eigh- teen." "And the colonel, I suppose, has stayed at home with his pet ?" " Yes ; we counted heads, for Sir Mark was so good as to tell Althemiah who were to be of the party, and we found we should be thirteen if the colonel came." Sir Frederick was standing by Miss Tufton ; she said, recklessly, — " Once in Paris, at the Caledons' — do you know the Caledons, Sir Frcdi^rick ? — I very nearly drove the lady of the house wild. Sir Mark wouldn't sit down thirteen to dinner, and I was late — that was where 1 first met Mr. (iiuiiani." "Indeed! my mother's friend! T did not know you were ac(piaintrd." " He is a particular friend of mine." " Wlio is yinir particular friend, Miss 'I'ufton?" asked Sir Mark. "Mr. (jiuliani," nspeated Lill, in loncs as clear is a trumpet. " What ! the Italian master ?" said Sir Mark; tho man FALSE APPEARANCES. 221 yoi. got the opera box out of? Here's an opportunity for yot — send him the money by Ponsonby." " I told you once, Sir Mark — " but Sir Mark was at the «an, that he might be back for the hunting season. Everybody was shaking hands with her at once. Would they never go ? " Farewell, Miss Tufton," said Frederick's rich musical voice. " Good-bye," she answered, and looked straight at him. " Remember me, if you please, to Lady Ponsonby, and to your brother and sister." They shook hands, and left the room with some of the other guests. Lill remained standing in the same place. She fancied she was watching Sir Mark's very tender parting with Altheniiah. As the door closed on the Pantons, Sir Mark came towards Lill. " AVhy, how tired you look !" he exclaimed. "I am tired; I can scarcely stand." "AVhy don't you sit down, then?" and Sir Mark actually wIiccUmI forward an arm-chair for her. "I'll go to bed," she said, turning sharply away, that he might not see the tears that rose to her eyes. The trifling sympathy shown by Sir Mark made her quite hysterical. Sir Frederick went home that niglit an instance of the possibility of what some afTirm often happens; that of a man being in love with two women at once. There exists a great dissolving power in absence, and CROSS PURPOSES. 227 a very creative one in presence. One does not forfjet, but the clear outlines of the past get blurred and faint. Constancy requires to be cultivated and exercised, just as our other virtues do, by self-denial and self-control. Sir Frederick Ponsonby only paid a flying visit to Paris ; just the number of hours requisite to refresh his wardrobe and make him presentable at the Bains d' Am61ie. " Pour qui veut du repos, du soleil, up air pur, Le 86jour d'Amelie est le port le plus sur." "Whether repose, sun and pure air. were the peculiar objects of Sir Frederick's journey to the Canigou k Mon- tagne des Airs, must be left to the reader's ])enetration. Lady Ponsonby and Alicia kindly took it for granted, that after having been subjected to the damp English climate. Sir Frederick felt the necessity of a course of drying, at the foot of the Roche d'Annibal. The evening before Sir Frederick was to start for the Pyrenees, Lady Ponsonby, believing that she was show- ing a real turn for diplomacy, began a sort of cross-ex- amination of her son about his fair neighbours at Monk's Capel. " Well,. Fred. I have been half expecting some confi- dences from you." He asked of what kind. "The only one usually vouchsafed by men to their mothers, — an intimation that at some period or other they may marry." "Does it disappoint you, mother, that I have no such confession to make ?" " I wonder a little, considering the descriptions you have sent me of the girls you have seen so much of." "My dear mother, I dreamed the night before I left England, that I was going to be married, and I awoke and found my pillow wet with my tears." " That is a put-off, and not an answer to my ques- tion." "You shall have the frankest of negatives then, No — T have not the slightest idea of placing my heart under the despotism of Miss Tufton ; nor have 1 the presump. tioQ to believe it would be accepted " 228 WHO BREAKS- "..TS. "I see, then, that Miss Tuftoa was the only one who sxcited your attention." " Quite true : Miss Althemiah — " " What a name !" ejaculated Alicia. "Miss Althemiah was excellent, but monotonous. Her dear little sister still played with the kitten. The raembor's daughter's eyes treated me with the most haughty indifference." "That will do," said Lady Ponsonby, laughing; "I am satisfied you have returned heart-whole." Sir Frederick for all answer, shrugged his shoulders : he was most hermetically discreet. Lady Ponsonby retailed the above conversation with zest to Mr. Giuliani. Iler anxiety about her son while he was in Sir Mark Tufton's neighborhood had been re- vealed to the Italian by the excess other precautions to hide it. He could hardly suppress a smile at the nalvet6 with which his good friend believed that the only danger to Lill's constancy lay in Sir Frederick's presence. LILL BREAKS. 22& CHAPTER XXXVIII. Lill Breaks. The next week was endless to Miss Tiifton. She would go out with the intention of taking a long walk or ride, and return tired within the hour. Everything wearied her, everything annoyed her ; the least noise or movement in the room where she was, made her nervous. Everybody was disagreeable or to l)lame, and she felt a profound disgust for life, indeed, for humanity in general. Miss Crumpton at last began to be aware that some- thing was amiss with Lill. She had known her impa- tient and passionate, but never languid and listless ; had never seen her occupied for hours with one single page of a book — for the leaf was never turned, that the cha- perone could vouch for — still less had Lill ever remained half a morning with her hands in her lap, apparently watching the raindrops on the window running into one another. Nor was it only w'hen Miss Crumpton and the young lady were iite a tete that Lill fell into these fits of absence. In the evenings, when Sir Mark was present, she would sit motionless, staring at the lamp or the fire. Intense thought produced this longing for physical repose. From a child to a woman she had had a cra- ving for information of all kinds, but Lill had never shown any reflective faculty; she acquired — she did not originate. The present call upon her head to direct her heart, singularly distressed her. She was confused by a mingling of sentiment and sensation. But for her en- tanglement with Mr. Giuliani, she would not have been called on to struggle against a preferen(^e for Sir Fred- ej-ick Ponsonbj'. It was the necessity for the struggle, the difficulty to be overcome, which fixed his image in- delibly on her soul. Difficulty acts on some natures as a magnet. Otherwise, the probabilities are, that Lill, with her sharp perception of weaknesses, her high standard of worth, would have sifted Sir Frederick, and decided that the gra^n of his character was not 20 230 WHO BREAKS — PATS. equal to his external merits. As it was, her whole being, heart, soul, mind, were engrossed by him. Bhe must suffer — might die (she was one of the girls who might die for love), but it was one of those terrible pas- sions which never leave their victims so long as they live. One morning Lill was roused from her apathy by Miss Crumpton laying a letter silently before her. The colour and shape of the envelope told her at once from whom it came. The sight instantly summoned up the recollection of a lively debate she had had with Giuliani. She averring that she never thought or spoke of people, but they were sure to appear in person, or else to write ; and Giuliani asking her, if she had ever noted how often such a concurrence had failed. "It had not failed now," thought Lill, as she opened his letter ; no, nor it could not have failed for many a day past ; never had Giuliani been so present to her spirit, as during these last weeks. Giuliani had written less than usual, only two sides of his paper were covered. There were neither apologies nor excuses for not having written sooner. Why should any one condemn himself as inattentive or idle ? or re- sort to so stupid a manoeuvre to escape the effort neces- sary to find sonietliing worth saving. To nive a reason for unusual silence is another thing, and always as ac- ceptable as excuses are un])alatalile. Giuliani began his letter much in the same way he would have done had he come to speak to Lill by word of mouth, instead of with his pen. '•You will smile," he wrote, "to hear that my letter is prompted by a dream. We moderns scout at most things that were reverenced by the ancients, just as youths quiz the counsels of gray-beards. You remember that we have high authority for believing that Avarninga are sonu'tiines sent in dreams. " Jiast night 1 drcanu'd that I saw you in a church, as- suredly a clnircli in Itnly. for the wunieu with which it was crowded had on cillicr the ))ezzotto or the mezzaro. Among them 1 was startled by seeing you, kneeling on a chair as ItaJiun women do. You also wore the (ienoese Bcarf over yoiu- head. Astonisliing the distinctness with which 1 heard the music, it was that of a military masa LILL BREAK8. 231 As I gazed at you, you turned and saw me. The first expression of your face was that of terror, the next moment you stretched your hands towards me with a cry for help. In the struggle to reach you, I awoke. " I am not prone to superstition, not afraid to com- mence a journey on a Friday, or on the thirteenth of a month, not unwilling to sit down thirteen to table. Still this dream has been the deciding cause of this letter. Are you in any difficulty, any peril ? you told me once, you did not want a friendship that should show itself but once in a life, like coronation trappings. To some, never- theless, is given the chance of proving their devotion but once, some never have even that one chance. Do not grudge me the opportunity if it occurs ; remember that you have one true friend willing to help you. Be your trouble what it may, give me at least my share of it. "Your faithful "G. G." Lill read this letter, revealing a constant thought of her, revealing love with all love's tender superstitions, another sort of superstition from the one disclaimed, and saw in it, what? only the chance of an escape. Strong passion seldom sees anything beyond or above its own aims. Lill, so generous when heart-whole, so sensi- tive to inflicting mortiflcation, now believed this letter to be nothing less than an interposition of Providence in her behalf. Unconsciously cruel as a woman always is, when she does not love the man who loves her, she wrote on the spur of the moment: — "Yes, indeed, Mr. Giuliani; I do believe you are my sincere friend, the truest I shall ever have. I have been very foolish, very erring ; I must try not to do worse yet, and I should do worse if I deceived you. I cannot expect you or any one to believe me, to believe that I meant well. I have endeavoured, indeed 1 have, to keep faith with \ on, but T know I have broken it; not willing- ly, not gaily and carelessly, oh, no! indeed, — pray believe that at least. I have cried out for help, and your letter has come like a good angel to guide me ; I feel as if it were a voice from heaven. You would have led me right long ago, but I did wish to make you liappy 232 WHC BREAKS — PAYS I see I was very stupid, but not wicked, not intentionally so ; will you ever forgive ine ? I am sure I shall never be happy, because all my life long I shall remember my fault to you. I will always pray that you may forget me and be happy. "Your poor pupil, "LiLL TUFTON." She hastily gathered together every scrap she had of his writing, putting them into the same envelope with her letter. In the centre, carefully wrapped in silver paper, was the ring Giuliani had given hor. He ha(? chosen it to suit her fortunes, not his. and the price had entailed on him manifold privations. " .1 don't want to part with you, poor little ring, but I must, though it will hurt him to see you again," and a great tear fell and dimmed the diamonds. She heard again the fond, foolish words which had accompanied the gift. " Why cannot I love him !" she exclaimed with a great gasp. She ran upstairs for her bonnet ; this time she never thought of Miss Crumpton as a messenger. When she was within sight of AVavering, she stopped ; two^minutes more and the letter would be beyond recall ; her heart heat fearfully. At this crisis, she was startled by John Larke's voice. " Good-day, Miss." " Good-morning, John," and she walked on. "When I seed you a-coming along so fast, Miss, says I to myself, now Miss Tufton be a-going to the post, sure as anything. Every one do have a way of hurrying when they be bound for the post." " Because they be generally too late, John," said Lill, trying to speak calmly. " I expects it's just that, Miss. Hurry is bad, and de- lay is bad; it's a precious hard job, so it is, to find out when it's the right time for one or t' other. Them Lon'on architects now, 1 ain't for finding fault with 'em, nor with Mr. Langdcn for employing of 'cm, he hadu't no time to lose to get his work done afore winter set in ; but bless yon. Miss Tufton, there ain't nothing now in that house that (hm't want setting to rights." "I suppose you are to do that," said I^ill ; guefisinff the old man's wish, that she should understand he had been working at Longlands. LILL BREAKS. 233 " Why, yes, Miss Mr. Langden and me's been agree- ing about a heap of thinfrs. Says I, Mr. Langden, sir, I ain't bv no means a quick man in getting through jobs, —Mr. Ashton 'II tell you that. I likes to do the thing as it shan't want doing again. Shall I put the letter in the box for you, Miss ?" Lill hurriedly gave him her packet ; so John Larke completed a job that day, which certainly would not re- quire doing again. After dinner, when they were alone, Lill said to Miss Cruinpton, " You have your wish Crummie. I have broken with Mr. Giuliani." Miss Crumpton laid down her work. " Don't say a word of thankfulness," went on Lill, " or I shall hate you as much as I do myself." She got up and walked to and fro in the room several times, then stopped, and confronting the astonished chaperone, said, — " Christians do not exult in the pain of their enemies, do they ? Mr. Giuliani was my enemy : if it had not been for him, I should not have had a dark speck as big as a pin on my life : but still I don't enjoy paining him. Why didn't you do your duty, Crummie, and tell Sir Mark—" •' My dear, you begged me not." " Would you stand by and see me stab mySelf if I begged you ? let me throw myself over a precipice, if I" beoTcd you ? When one is mad our friends are bound to take care of us, to use force to prevent our doing our- selves harm." " O Lill ! I am not, — I never was, — able to guide you. I was wrong to keep a situation for which I knew my- self unfit. I was not clever enough for you ;" and Miss Crumpton began to cry. The secret of Lill's power of inspiring affection, in spite of a temper variable and impetuous as the wind, was, that she redeemed her outbreaks by such warm tenderness, such al)undant repentance. " Dear Crmnmio !" she now exclaimed, throwing her arms around her old friend, " forgive me, I am naughty, because I am unhajjpy. Don't look so pitiful, Crummie, —you break my heart." 20* 234 red, "Fretting about a man she doesn't care a pin for : who can manage girls ?" ADiiiL. 235 CHAPTER XXXIX. Adieu. After Giuliani had read Lill's letter, he came to a rapid decision. Paris and his pupils were alike hateful to him. — he would leave botli, and at once. He had only two duties to perform before he began his joarney. The first to send back Miss Tufton's letters, the second to bid farewell to that true friend, Valentine's mother. His interview with Lady Ponsonby had much in it of the solemnity of a death-bed parting ; neither of the two ever expected to meet again. There was a sincere friend- ship between them, though the one was an old woman, and the other a young man. Giuliani had always en- joyed Lady Ponsonby's cheerfullness, as much as her good sense. In her house alone and in her society, had he felt that serenity which a man instinctively seeks and needs, to restore the e([uilibrium of his faculties after the day's struggle. She, on her side, was proud of, even grateful for his respectful attachment. He gave her now his full confidence, ending thus: "I am wearird of this aimless agitation ; wearied of forced tranquillity : my soul is like an empty boat on a rough sea ; I must have action, I cannot remain longer, where everything tends to enfeeble my dearest convictions. The atmosphere of Paris stifles me." " Where do you go ?" asked Lady Ponsonby. " The world is all before me where to choose," he re- plied. " The pope's amnesty would allow of my return- ing to Bologna, but I cannot bend my will to the condition of signing the exacted declaration. No ; I will go to Piedmont; there it is where our national resurrection will begin ; already the dead there are lifting their gravestones. I must conquer this unfortu- nate passion, or it will conquer me. 1 have done with books and dreams. I am going to live. A Dio, cara arnica." " A Dio, Giuliani." " I should wish to shake Miss Ponsonby by the hand before I go " 236 WHO BRKAKS — PAYS. Lady Ponsonby said she would find her daughter. A great fear made her anxious to break the" news of Giuliani's immediate departure to Alicia without wit- nesses. For all answer to her mother's sudden information Alicia joined her hands together, like a child praying. Lady Ponsonby could see how tremulous the tingera were — ^could see every nerve of the usually calm features working. But Alicia had been brave too long — had too long governed her emotions to fail now. " One moment, mother," she said. When she believed herself mistress of her voice and of her face. Miss Ponsonby went forward to meet the great anguish of her innocent life. Giuliani hastened towards her; the touch of her clammy cold hand, that invincible sign of inward dis- turbance, and the vibrating motion of her head, were not in accordance with the firmly spoken, — " C'est done vrai, qiCilfant dire adieu?" He raised the hand he had taken to his lips ; perhaps his own wretchedness gave him an insight into hers ; for as he looked at her, his eyes filled with tears : perhaps he understood at last that' happiness had been so close to him, that he had overlooked it. Farewell was finally said, and he was at the door when he suddenly turned back, and again taking a hand of both mother and daughter, said in low husky tones, — " I have a legacy, a last wish, to leave wi'th you, dear friends. Do not desert /if r, poor young thing ; life is always difficuli. the world hard, for such imjietuous, un- calculating natures." 'Die knot in his throat uuule his last words scarcely audible. " Be kind to her for my sake." " I will," was solemnly pronounced by Lady Ponsonby nnd Alicia. "Adieu, adieu, adieu." A QUESTION OF BUYING AND SELLING. 237 CHAPTER XL. A Question of Buying and Selling, Summer, with its deep greens aud luminous skies, autumn, with its purple and gold, have vanished ; winter is at hand, with its short gray days and its long nights ; no more walks in the early morning to watch the trans- parent mists lifted from the face of the hills ; silent now are the tender harmonies, absent the aromatic scents, choice gifts of the dying year. Upwards of two months have elapsed since Lill re- ceived back her letters from Mr. Giuliani. She knows nothing further of him. nor of Sir Frederick Pousonby ; she has not had the courage to write to Lady Ponsonby ; nor has the young baronet's name dropped from the lips of any of the Pantons, who might have been expected to have had news of him, as the admiral aud colonel constantly saw Sir Frederick's tenant, Fordham. Sir Frederick seemed forgotten, for neither did Sir Mark nor Miss Crumpton ever allude to him. Lill re- sented this general forgetfulness of one who had been so flatteringly sought, and without whose company none of the neighbours had appeared to consider the assem- bling themselves together worth while. She learned the disagreeable lesson then, of how very little any one per- son is missed, of how very soon a vacant place is filled. Lill's thoughts did not dwell constantly and with co- herence on Sir Frederick ; they fluttered about the recoll"ction of him with a distressing confusion. Oc- cupation, which recpiired any exercise of intelligence, was intolerable to her. Music sickened her ; she was in that sad condition when an inward depression showsf itself in outward displeasure against every one and every- thing. Everybody was wrong or disagreeable, because her soul was dull and heavy. This was the moment that poor Miss Crumpton chose to enlighten Lill as to Sir Mark's attentions to Miss Al- themiah Panton. " It will be all the same a hundred years hence, Crum- mie. Whatever is to be, will be ; so don't puzzle your 238 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. poor head as to what may or may not happen. Hav'n't you heard that men are the sport of circumstance ? Fate will overtake us, make what haste we will." It was just before Christmas that Sir Mark did what he had never done before in his life, invited Lill into his private room. Nor was the irony with which he had al- ways seasoned his intercourse with her, and which had not been diminished by Mrs. Townsend's flight, to be traced either in the voice or words, in which he began the interview. On the contrary, there was even a touch of deference in his manner. " Surely some one has left me a fortune," was Lill's conjecture as she took a seat. " I wish. Miss Tufton, to obtain from you a frank opinion of some of our neighbours. My reasons for this shall be made obvious to you by and by. Let us begin, for instance, with Mr. Geoffrey Colfield. What do you think of him, seriously speaking." "A good enough person, I believe, but a most grotes- que fop." " Short and graphic. Well ! and Mr. Swainton ?" "Very amusing, but ill-natured, and without self- respect, or delicacy of feeling." " Capital ! and Sir Frederick Ponsonby ?" " Vain of his good looks. Thinks himself irresistible, I should say." Sir Mark rultbed his hands. "Now, what of Mr. Langden ?" " Oh ! he is utterly insignificant." " Upon my word, young lady, you strike hard. I won- der what you lliiiik of yourself." " Not so badly as I deserve, Sir Mark. Nature grants to every one a self-love and esteem of themselves in inverse pro])ortion to their nu'rits." " I am to infer, then, tliat with or without reason, ^^is3 Tufton thinks herself the superior t>f these gentlemen." " Comparisons are odious and unfair, Sir Mark." The old gentleman seemed at a loss how to proceed. When he spoke again, Lill started, as if slie had for- gotten his being there. "Miss 'I'uftoii, perhaps you nuiy change yonr opinion of Mr. Laugdcu, when 1 tell you he has done you the A QUESTION OF BUYING AND SELLING. 2'10 honour of offering you his hand and a share of hia enormous fortune." " I grant the half of his prayer, and blow the rest away. I will accept the share of his fortune, but not so much as the little finger of his hand." " You are pretty and young ; use your time for being impertinent, — I don't prevent you ; but Miss Tnfton, re- member, before it is too late, that you are portionless." " Am I ?" said Lill, calmly. " You are poor ; Mr. Langden can make you rich better listen to reason. Every year takes away from your value. You won't be half as good-looking next year as you are now. I don't suspect you of much ro- mance. You like the good things of this world, and quite right too. Langden offers princely settlements. He is not a learned man, nor a man of birth, but what of that? Riches will get an entr6e everywhere." "I think not, Sir Mark." He stared at her; and she added, gravely, " not into heaven." " Difficult, Miss Tufton, if you please, not impossible ; and with your sharpness you will be able to turn Lang- den round your finger, make a saint of him ; — he'll be a pup])et in your hands." "Thank you; but I have observed, that though silly women can make clever men do what they like, clever women never can manage foolish, stupid men. I will not marry Mr. Langden, Sir Mark. Do believe that girls are not so generally to be bought, as it suits satirists to say." " '^rhat's the fruit of your experience, eh !" Lill had unconsciously thrown a sop to Cerberus ; ho was thinking of Althemiah Panton. " Well, your own folly be on your head ; but, stop a minute, — suppose I were about to marry, Miss Tufton, would that change your decision ?" " Not at all ; I do not like Mr. Langden ; I cannot bear him. If you were to turn me out of doors, that would not induce me to walk into his house. I will have none of his heart, hands, purse or lands," and with a little half curtsey she left the room. Miss Crumpton plied Lill so well with questions that she was soon in possession of the fact of the proposal and the refusal. 240 WHO BREAKS — FAYS. "Do you know, Cruiumie," said Lill, " Sir Mark wanted to frighten me into accepting Mr. Langden by a threat of marrying himself ?" " My dear. I did my best to make you observe Sii Mark's attentions to Althemiah Pauton." Lill shrugged her shoulders. " My dear, I heard him telling her the other evening when he was praising her for counting so well at picquet, that she was the first woman he had ever met who under- stood that two and two only did make four. I am sure he might have found out that I knew as much long ago, if he had asked me to play with him. Miss Panton does so smile at him, Lill." " She smiles at everybody," said Lill. " Oh, Crummie, what does it matter to anybody but the people them- selves who marries who?" And that was all the interest Miss Crumpton could get Lill to take inher graudfuther's supposed marriage. FENCINa. 241 CHAPTER XLI. Fencing. One forenoon of the new year 1848, when the drawing- room at the Hall was full of morning visitors, Tail suddenly sto])ped short in what she was saying, and bent down her head in the attitude of one striving to catch some distant sound. The next instant she rose, walked some steps towards the door, then turning away again, took a chair, and made some indistinct remark to the person nearest to her. The moment after the door opened, and Sir Frederick Ponsonby was announced. Lill received him as if she had seen him the day be- fore. He did not perceive — what man ever does ? — that her fingers trembled, so that she could not hold up the screen she had seized, under pretence that the fire scorched her face. While Sir Frederick was speaking to the rest of the party, all of them his acquaintances, Lill looked at him. and saw that he was pale and thin, like one recovering from illness. She gathered from his answers to various inquiries, that he had been some days already at the Pri- ory ; she heard him talk of hunting, as if that had been the reason of his return. The more she looked at him, the more certain she was that foxhounds had had nothing to do with his coming to England, and she felt angry that he should try to make any one believe it had. Then her grandfather came in, and asked him to stay dinner ; and Sir Frederick agreed, without any pressing, that Black Prince should be sent to the stables. To give herself an air of indifference, Lill drew out of a basket some long neglected piece of worsted work ; a fash- ionable amusement at that period. Sir Frederick settled himself comfortably near her, and began forthwith play- ing with the contents of her workbox. " You did not show any surprise at seeing me, Miss Tufton." 21 242 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " I was not more surprised at your coming back to England, than at your going to Paris. 1 have reinarlced before now, that whenever people are not compelled by Bome necessity to remain in one place, they always are restless. I should myself be extremely pleased if Sir Mark would take a fancy to go to Brighton to-morrow." Sir Frederick accepted tJiis speech in silence ; he did cot doubt she intended to be unkind. The next moment Lill was consulting him about the particular shade of red to be used for the innermost petal of a damask-rose. " How are Lady Ponsonby and Miss Ponsonby ?" " Quite well, thank you." " I suppose Paris is very gay. Were you often at the opera ? How could you come away in the middle of the Carnival ?" " 1 have not been in Paris. I merely slept one night there in passing through." " Oh !" " You were not aware, then, that I went to the Pyre- nees ?" " No, indeed ; but I was struck by how well you were looking ; the air of the Pyrenees has agreed with you, — it does with everybody, 1 am told," Miss Crunipton raised ln-r head. "What nonsense was Lill talking! Any one with half an eye might see that Sir Frederick was altered for the worse." Lill took good care to meet no inquiring glances ; she ■went on : — "You were at Biarritz, of course? Did you make excursions into Spain? How did you like riding in the Bayonne cacvlcis .?" " My dear girl," here interposed Miss Crnmpton, with her usual tact " you don't give Sir Frederick time to answer." "I beg Sir Frederick's pardon." said Lill, gravely. "One moment more, till I find my Idack skein, and then I shall be able to give him all my attention." " I have not been to Biarritz, Miss 'J'ufton. I went to the Bains d'Am61ie, in the lOastern Pyrenees." " May I ask what they are famous for, Sir Fred« crick ?" FENCING. 243 "For tranquillity, old ladies, and sulphur, 1 believe, Miss Tufton." " Dear me I I never before guessed your tastes, Sir Frederick." He smiled, and went on to describe the picturesque sconovy of the banks of the Mondoni, and of the vallej of Moiitalba, the grandeur of Canigou and the Koche d' Auuibal. No winter there, always summer. "Charming! what a fascination hunting must have, to bring you to this Siberia 1 1 am sure you must wish yourself back again." He said, in a low voice,— " You are doing your best to make me understand you wish I were there, or at Jericho — anywhere but where I am." "You are quite wrong, Sir Frederick. I am as glad as any other of your acquaintances to see you again. The sight of an unaccustomed face is reviving in this dull place." Lill, for many more days, made fruitless struggles to impose on Sir Frederick the belief of her indili'ercncf towards him. She deceived herself into a persuasion that she would willingly accomplish any penance which could cure her of her love for him. She could give no clear reason for the secret spite she nourished against him. She was not frank with herself, would not examine into a certain mental reservation which embittei-ed all her feelings towards him, and made her almost savage to him, if he uttered a word expressive of interest in her. Had she forced herself to confess, she would have understood that it was not remorse for her conduct to Giuliani which influenced her, but that she was suspicious Sir Frederick had discovered her affection for him, even while he loved some one else. Loved some other ! What else could be the meaning of that sudden journey to the Pyrenees, his haggard appearance, and those letters to France, of which she had never thought till lately? Could she have more, circumstantial evidence against him ? No, poor Lill ! rather against yourself. Yet whenever she had succeeded in mortifying or wounding Sir Frederick by some careless or cruel word or act, she 244 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. would heap the most violent reproaches on herself, con- demn herself as mean and ungenerous, and exalt him as high as she lowered herself After one of these occasions. Sir Frederick remained away from the hall much longer than he had ever done before. " So much the better for me," thought Lill. Every night her pillow could have told how bitterly she ^rept her supposed success. AIRY, FAIRY LILIAN. 245 CHAPTER XLII. Airy, Fairy Lilian. Thkre was an artificial lal^e in Waveritifr Park, with a drive round it. The older folks in the village remem- bered the "grand madam," as Sir Mark's predecessor's wife had been always called, driving her phaeton with the cream-coloured ponies there, when she happened to be at the hall ; and gay parties rowing or sailing on the lake. Road, and boats, and lake, were now solitary and neglected. Jn sununer, rustling green flags stretched into the water, and broad leaves with golden balls hid its surface No noises there now, but the plash of leap- ing fish, the dabbling of the coot's bill, and now and then the hurried note of the sedge warbler. An old deep-bayed quarry was at the north end of the lake, famous in the season among the school-children for the blackberries which grew at its base. On one of the last days of February in 1848 Lill took shelter in one of the nooks of this quarry from a sudden heavy shower of mingled sleet and rain. The news of the revolution in Paris had reached her. She had hoped Sir Frederick would have forgiven her last unkind rebuff, and come over to give her news of his family. She tried to induce Sir Mark to ride over to the Priory, but, seeing how much she wished it, he took an obstinate fit and rode the contrary way. When the 28th of the month came, and no Sir Frederick. Lill made certain that, uneasy about his mother, he must have himself gone to Paris ; she might never see him again : she wished she had sent him a note ; there could have been no harm in showing anxiety for Lady Pon- sonby; he could not have misconstrued anything so natural. On second thoughts she would go to Vale House ; she could not fail to hear there, if he had left the Priory. Indifferent to menacing clouds, Lill set off. going by the lake : that way being half a mile shorter than by the road. She had walked on notwithstanding a drizzle, 21* 246 WHO BREAKS- PAYS. and only stopped when the rain began to fall in heavy earnest. She had not long taken shelter when she heard the trot of a horse. She thought she recognized the particular sound of those hoofs ; she turned white and red with fear and hope. Sir Frederick had almost passed when some involuntary movement of hers made him glance to the side. " Miss Tufton !" he exclaimed. She was frightened at the joy the sight of him gave her. " Can I not help you ?" he asked, dismovinting and hanging his bridle on the branch of a birch. "You are getting quite wet," and, drawing off his waterproof cloak, he wrapped it round her in spite of her refusal. " I can't help you out of the scrape, but I can share it with you ; in ten minutes the worst will be over : it is clearing to wind- ward." He placed himself so as to protect her from the wind, saying, as his eyes rested on her delicate face and figure, "What brought you out in such weather? it is surely imprudent." " I am a country girl ; I don't mind a wetting," she replied, hastily. " Have you heard from Lady Pon- sonby ?" " I was on my way to the hall to tell you that I had received excellent news from herself. 1 ran up to Lon- don with the intention of going across, but the business was all over, and my prosenco, considering my horrible political tendencies," he looked into her eyes, "would have thrown a drop of gall into my dear mother's cup of joy. Poor mother! she believes in republicans, and writes as though she were in the seventh heaven." Lill had spirit enouuh left to say, — " You can afford to he generous. You have had your wish granted. Louis Philippe has lost his crown." "You don't forget easily." he said. Then they were both silent; the wind ])laying sad tricks with Ijill's hair, blinding Sir Frederick's eyes with it, and sending it across his mouth, and Providi^ice to plac'(> th(>ni : tliough llin beauty of the county made no misalliance, she yet had not achieved any mortifying triumph. Sir Frederick AIRT, FAIKT LILIAN, 249 (hough handsome and accomplished as a Crichton, was not a man of fortune, and his bride, a treasure in her- self, bad no other treasure to bestow ; so that, altooether, it was a most suitable match, and created no envy; on the contrary, there was plenty of room ^o wonder how two such elegant persons meant — unless Sir Frederick went back to India, and got a staff appointment — to ex- ist on an income under a thousand a year. Everybody was pleased. Congratulations arrived in person, and by post, and presents were not slow in appearing. Lill received a kind letter from Lady Ponsonby; much kinder than she had dared to hope for. Sir Frederick was not so well satisfied with the one addressed to himself. He wanted every one to assure him he was the happiest man in the world ; and his mother's letter, though full of kind wishes, was sparing in congratulations. Of course Sir Frederick imagined that Lady Ponsonby was not free from that jealousy, which all mothers are accused of feeling, with respect to the marriage of their sons. " I wonder if it is all real happiness, or if it is only a dream ?" said Lill to Miss Crumpton, one night when she was going to bed. " I shouldn't be a bit surprised, if somctliing dreadful were to happen, to put an end to it all. A murder, or a fire, or Sir Frederick turn out to be married, like Mr. Rochester. Now, Crummie, don't look as if you didn't know who Mr. Rochester is." "I don't, indeed, Lill." "Jane p]yre's Mr. Rochester. If I had been Jane Eyre, I would have killed him." " I\ly dear girl, what's the use of agitating yourself?" for Lill's face was as white as paper. " I would forgive anything but being deceived," went OD Lill. " No, I never could nor would forgive that." "There's no deceit about Sir Frederick," said Miss Crumpton. " ITis eyes are as clear as day." "So they are, dear old woman," exchumed Lill, kiss- ing Miss Crumpton. "I don't deserve to be so happy, — do I, Crummie ? I don't deserve him. I have told him the whole story about Mr. Giuliani ; he was so good about it ; I could not be easy till he knew it. AVe are never, never to have a secret from one another." ^f'O WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XLIII. The End of the Beginning. One unclouded day of bliss followed another, until at last Sir Frederick pressed Lill to fix her wedding day. " Why did he want a ©■hange ? AVere they not per- fectly happy? Why could he not let well alone?" this was the first answer he received. " Lill, my darling, your promise was to marry me, not to remain my betrothed." " Ah, yes ; but you were not thinking yesterday of our being married ; J am certain you were not." " I have thought of nothing else for the last month." '•You said it would take more than six months to make the Priory habitable." "So it will. The repairs can go on while we are in Switzerland. I have never seen the Alps, and my desire is to see them for the first time in your company. For- tunately there is no displacing of the monarch of moun- tains contemplated." '• It is very early to go to Switzerland. June is soon enough." " Let us divide the difference, and say May." "May! not for the treasures of the world. Are you not aware that May is the unfortunate marriage month? Mary Stuart married Uothwell in May." ■ After a long debate Sir Frederick carried his point, and the twenty-third of April was fixed for the marriage. During the week previous Lill would have tried the patience of an angel, and yet Sir Frederick never lost his ; but bis spirits were evidently depressed. Altliemiah Panlon was to be the principal bridesmaid, and little Jiosy Asliton the second. By the way. Dolly I'aiilon IkhI been sent away to school, by her own desire, innneiliately after the beginning of the year. She had tak(!n leave of Lill Tnftou without kissing her, and on till' night before she went away burned her diary. AlllicMiiiili, who was slaying at the hall to 'perform some of the onerous duties of a bridesmaid, ventured t( THE END OF TUE BEGINNING. 251 take the initiative for the first time since the could spealv, and remonstrated with Lill on her behaviour to Sir Frederick; it was not respectful, etc. "Suppose I don't respect him — don't care for him?" said liill. " The day before you are to marry him Is too late to find that out," replied AUhemiah. " Too late? — not at all. 1 hear his step on the stairs ; I'll tell him so before you." Aithemiah fled. Sir Frederick had come prepared to find Lill agitated; tender thoughts were in his heart, tender words on his lips : he was quite bewildered by the mocking gaiety of the pair of eyes she fixed on him. He was puzzled what to do or say : that which he had come to speak would never suit her present mood. He watched her uneasily ; her gaiety, fictitious he was sure, affected him more painfully than the deepest melancholy would have done. "You have no fears, no an.xiety for the future, Lill — have you?" he asked, taking both her hands in his. "Afraid of the future ? How can I be afraid of what does not exist ?" "You quaint poetical child." " But it is not original, you know," she said, with a defiant smile — one of those he called mysterious. "I borrowed it for the occasion." •• Will you come out and take a walk with me ? Come out, poor pet, it is a day that makes mere existence a happiness." "J don't wish to be happy to-day. You do not under- stand me at all, if you do not feel that I must be sorry — • sorry is not the word — wretched, to break away as I am doing from everybody and thing 1 have known from my birth, for the sake of a stranger." "You do not love me, Lill," he said, sorrowfuliy. "No, I think 1 hate you." He turned pale. She looked long at him, and gradually the proud mocking spirit that had been peering through her eyes vanished. She went up to him with quivering lips. 252 WHO BREAKS PATS. " Frederick, 1 don't know what is the nvatter with me. I cannot help being unkind to you; but I — I couldn'* beax you to be away from me." Sir Frederick led her to the chimney-piece, and hold- ing both her hands, so as to prevent her escape, he rang the bell. When the servant came, he desired that Miss Tufton's maid should bring her mistress's walking dress. He took the mantle from Ruth, and himself placed in on Lill's shoulders. " I am not your property yet," she said, drawing back. "Now for the hat," he went on; "and the goloshes," and kneeling down he drew them, as he spoke, over her shoes ; then putting her arm within his, opened the glass door, and led her. reluctant but submissive, down the steps into the garden. " >J ow then," he said, " we will go to the lake ; there was the beginning of the happiest time of my life, and it shall end there also if it be true that you hate me." He led her along as tenderly as though she had been a little child, careful that her foot should touch no stone, nor rough place. The air was piercing, but a sun of gold gilded the lake — the banks were covered with prim- roses. He drew a long breatli of enjoyment, and pressed the hand lying on his arm closer to his side. " Talk of an end !" he said. " No, no sweet one, I have you, and I shall not let you escape me. 1 will make you believe in love." lie stooped to obtain a sight of her face. " (iood heavens ! how beautiful you are," he added, passionately. " Is that why you care for me ?" she asked. " She calls it caring for her, and I have given her my life." It was not the words, but the intleetions of his voice, the expression of his eyes, that made lier heart beat to sufTocation. At that moment she believed fully and Cduddently that he loved lier. Alaiincd at her own emotion, she tried to answer liim playl'ully, — "When 1 am old and wrinkled — will you love mo then V" " I shall see no change, you will be Lill, my own Lill, for me." THE END OF THE BEQINNINO. 253 "And (1(; you really lovo ine well enough, never to ask aie to smile when 1 want to cry, or to sing and dance, when J am sad ?" " O one of little faith ! but queslion for question ; Lill, do you love me, or hate me ?" Up from her heart came the answer, " I love you :" it trembled on her lip, but to say it was impossible. " Can you not say ' I love you ?' I have never heard you pronounce tliose three blessed syllables." "Time will show," she whispered, slipping her hand into his, and not denying him the sight of her loving eyes. It was one of those moments for both neither man nor woman ever forgets, let life be ever so long, or s-o smooth, or so troubled. They were opposite the quarry — he loosened his hold of her hand to take her in his arms, but she sprang away from him, up the steep grassy path at the side. She was out of sight in an instant. " Good-bye, good-bye," came floating through the air " Till to-morrow," he called to her. " Strange, fantas tic girl !" he muttered; "but she is no coquette." Excepting Sir Mark's private rooms, there was not one in the Hall which Lill did not visit that afternoon. She spent some time in what had been her schoolroom, taking down from the dusty shelves one book after another. In most of them was scrawled in pencil or ink, " Lilian, surnamed Espifegle," amid devices of fabulous animals, such as flying serpents or owls' heads on men's bodies astride a winged globe. Plenty of caricatures, too, on the fly-leaves ; sufficient signs everywhere to prove that the name of Espifegle had been thoroughly deserved. No one in the house or out of the house had been spared, but Lady Tufton. Under several of the figures meant for the tall governess, was written "Juno " " I am sure she wouldn't call me Espifegle if she saw me now." thought Lill. " I feel as tame as a barn-door fowl. Mow I used to tease and terrify her with my am- bitions ! I fancy, I hear her sonorous voice repeating over and over again, 'You have no judgment to guide your talents or your good impulses. Patience is genius.' Poor J uno ! I wonder where you are. I should be glad 1-2 2n4 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. to send you cake and wodding cards, and receive a ]vMei of adrice from you, full of concealed pity for Sir Fred erick." Other chambers also were visited by Lill. franoht with too sacred remembrances to be mentioned here; out of those rooms she came with reddened eyes. "Wlien liijl went into the drawins-room "before din- ner, she found there, besides Sir Mark, Miss Crump- ton and Althemiah, Mrs, Tufton, her son Edward, and Sir Mark's man of business from London, with the settle- ments. Mrs. Tufton was a little, lively, elderly lady, who never fai]e(^ to let strangers know she had been very pretty in he^ youth. She did so very ingeniously, by re- peatinont Sir Frederick. Some were to Piiris, some to the Bains d'Ani61io, one or two had Brt'tagne on them. AViiat business has slie with any correspondence of Sir Frederick Ponsonby's before her marriage ? Is she going to be a spy ? She threw the letters on the table, and in so doing a small note fell out. It ran tiuis : — "Madamk, " AvKz I'extrfitne gracieuset6 de rendre k Sir Frederick Ponsonby les lettres ci-incluscs. Je vous demande ce petit service, croyez-le, Madame, pour vous 6viter ud A PEEP HJTo Bluebeard's closet. 2C5 moment d'inqui^tude, ce qui pournvitblen arriver si vous voyiez une lettre dans I'^criturc d'une femme ^ I'adresse de votre mari. Sir Frederick m'ayant dejii remis mes pauvrcs Icttrcs ^moi, je ineseusappelee k en fairc autant des sienues. Depuis que je vous aie vu, Madame, J8 puis comprendre et m^me pardonner I'incoastance do que] que homme que ce soil. " Agr6ez mes sentimens de respect, "Mathilde, Comtesse de Ravignan " (N6e de Loisic)." Was it possible to stab any one with more politeness ? Lill determined to play her part equally well ; she would present the letters to her husband without a question, without even a look that he could misconstrue into vex- ation. Droll indeed if she, the winner of the victory, were going to be jealous of the past — of an elderly coquettish Frenchwoman? She ought rather to joke him about his taste for antiques. She wished with all her heart he would come in and relieve her of the charge of his property — his sole property ; she had no claim on anything that was his before they were married. Again and again she stretched her slender neck out of the window, to see if he were returning. Every time she glanced towards the table on which lay the letters, she lesseiicd the distance between them and her. They had the same fascination for her that a serpent is said to have for a bird. Her eyes seemed to penetrate the paper, to read words that would render her the most miserable of creatures for the rest of her life. Two cries of impatient pain issued from her lips. She put her hands behind her to keep them out of tonq)tation, still her neck was extended, revealing a most torturing exci- tation. The voice of Sir Frederick resounded beneath the window. She did not catch what he was saying, but suddenly, actuated by one of those impulses so beyond our own consciousness that they seem to come from a power above and beyond us, she seized the whole of the letters, to thrust them out of sight into her carriage bag open on a sofa. As she did so, one dropped at her feet; in picking it up she saw the postmark of " Wavering," and '• 23rd April," the dale of her wedding-day. 23 266 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. "Mine, mire," she muttered, and she put it into her bosom, only the next instant to draw it out ; the touch had stung her. " I will know all soon, though it kill me." Yes, thai is the desire which swallows up in such moments all others. To know the whole of one's misery, to do that the jealous become endowed with the dissimulation, the patience, the stoical endurance of the Indian. Her hus- band came back. " No letters," said he, sitting down by her, and throwing his arm round her waist. The blessed influences of a serene sky and beautiful nature had banished his irritation ; he had been his own confessor by the side of the blue waters of the lake. Yes, the sight of the Comtesse Mathilde had made him unjust, rude to his fair, trusting, loving bride. " What has been, cannot be sponged out," he said to himself. " The love 1 had for Mathilde was different from what I feel for my poor Lill ; but I am honestly glad that Lill, not Mathilde, is my wife." The more he analyzed the sensations the more satis- fied he felt with his lot. Mathilde's image faded in the presence of that of his charming, pure young wife. In this happy state of mind he returned to the hotel. " By-the-by, Frederick, you have never told me any- thing about the lady you met last night : not even her name," began Lill. " Madame la Comtesse de Ravignan." '• Ought I to call on her, or she on me ? It seems to me that you having known her so well, she and I ought to bo civil to one another." " AVhat put it into your head that we were intimate?" " One can't always demonstrate mathematically how impressions are received," she answered carelessly. " Is she the lady of the Faubourg St. Gerunvin, who made you a legitimist?" " She, and some others." " Well, shall 1 send her a card or call ? I suppose she is in this hotel." " You would not like her ; she would not suit you at all." " I could avoid politics with her, you know. I am A PEEP INTO Bluebeard's closet. 2G'. ratlior curious to be acquainted witli a grandtdame of the old aristocracy. I never had that pleasure, for Sii Mark would not visit French families." Sir Frederick by this time felt a storm in the air. He was in reality too honest, too inexperienced in deceivin;^, to know how to manag-e. The notion never entered his head that a frank avowal of his former love for Madame de Ravignan would cut the knot that already existed ; he went on tying another. "Well, if you wish it, I will see her and tell her you are coming." " Does she need to be prepared for the sight of me ?" " If you had expressed the same wish when we met her at the Casino, an introduction would have taken place naturally ; now, it might seem like a caprice." " You kept away so determinately last evening, I had no opportunity of proposing anything," said Lill. " You looked so forbidding and angry, I was afraid of some ^clat." The conversation was going all wrong. Sir Fl'ederick took away his arm, then changed his seat. Lill hesitated ; should she insist on the veil being raised ? Was she quite prepared for what might be the consequences ! Had Sir Frederick looked at her, he might have seen a sort of ripple passing over her skin and spoiling its even- ness. He was, however, sitting half turned away, with the paper of the day before in his hand. " Fred, do you remember the walk we had together the day before we were married ?" '.' Of course I do : there's been scarcely time for forgetting." He rose and took his hat. " Going out again ?" " Yes : you don't make it so agreeable that I should remain in this stupid little room." "Stay a minute, Frederick ;" she ran between him and the door; "1 have something to say." She was tingling from head to foot ; her eyes grew glassy, and her face green with the agony of her sup- pressed feelings. " I have had a letter from Madame de Ravignan." 268 WHO BREAKS PATS. Quite involuntarily he sat down again. •• Read it." She spread it out before him. " "Where are the letters ?" he asked, after running his eye over the note. " In my bag — all but one." " And you have read them ?" He was very fierce. She answered him by a look of indignation only. He understood her. " I beg your pardon, Lill." '■' I have not yet read a syllable. There is your cor- respondence intact, up to my wedding-day. Possibly Madame de Ravignan judged me as you did. This one I withhold, the one written on the day you married me." He interrupted her. " Not written." " Sent away, then, on the day you married me. I mean to read it in your presence." "You will do a very foolish act, Lill. Can you not understand, there may be times when a man, who is a man, feels bound to use soft language to a woman, to cover hard truth ?" " Perfectly," she said, and she opened the letter. " I will read it aloud." " I beg of you, Lill, as a favour, to give me that fool- ish scrawl. I forget what is in it ; but I swear to you that I loved you, and you only, the day we were married. Give it to me." She sprang past him through tli>> door connecting the salon and Ijedroom : before ho could jirevent it, he heard the key turned in that door, and also in the one on the stairs. She opened the letter and hesitated as a gambler does, who is about to stake all he possesses on one Ihrow. But she could not withstand that ravenous a])])('tite for cer- tainty which is one of tiie invariable symptoms of jeal- ousy : she sought it, and found it. The letter, dated the 2'ind of April ; began with, — "Too late, loo hite : your relenting is like a reprieve to a deatl man." Here was conlirnial ion of those sus- picions allayed, not u|)rooted, which had tortured her at Wavering. She writhed now under the knowledge that A PEEP INTO BLUEBEARD S CLOSET. 269 she was not the one he would have chosen. She pursued her reading. "You should have my life willingly; but not my honour. My word is given to Miss Tut'ton, and not even to call you my own, would I now draw back. You alone know whethei' your heart is racked by the an- guish you so well describe ; or whether your pen was guided by the infernal desire to stir into life the embers of a passion you provoked, and then disdained. That mad, soul-absorbing passion which I have felt for you, I shall never feel again. You have had the first bloom of my heart, but it will flower again, tended and sheltered by my sweet girl-bride. T cau confidently trust my hap piness in her hands. She loves me simply, affectionately. Her love was a spontaneous gift; I accepted it grate- fully, as a shipwrecked wretch does a saving plank. In return I give her firm faith and deep devotion. I look back on the year gone by as on an epoch of folly and delusion. It belongs to the shadowy past. My heart will be re-baptized to happiness through the innocent love of the beautiful, noble creature who will be my wife within less than twenty-four hours." The signature, and that was all. As she read, Lill felt with horrible distinctness every single hair of her head moving. She could not keep her teeth from chattering. She had seen what was in Blue Beard's closet. Rub, rub, as she may, she will never rub out from her heart the testimony of her unwise visit 23* 270 WnO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XL VI. Love in Hate. Thouguts are too rapid in the terrible crises of life, to be caught hold of and described. Lill's soul was like a ship between Scjlla and Charybdis. It was tossing on hissing, bubbling waves, without compass and without steersman. Only two months ! and already at the end of her happiness. It would be of no avail to follow the impulse, sprung from the cowardice rather than from the courage of her love, which was urging her to throw her- self on her husband's neck, counselling her to seek no further enlightenment as to how much or how little she had of his heart, but rather to undertake the conquest of the whole. " I should fail," she said to herself, " for I could never forget. j\Iy faith in him is lost. "Where, then, would be my standing point? The words, addressed to that woman on the very eve of our marriage day, would for ever come between my heart and his." She overheard Sir Frederick push back his chair. She heard his step : that well-known sound, which had alwaj'S been a signal of joy to her : it brought tears into her eyes, scorched by the reading of the letter. Sir Freder- ick knocked at the inner door. Mis sensations about Madame de Ilavignan's spiteful conduct were a curious compound of anger and mortiliratiou ; but knowing that whatever had been the doubtful state of his affections when he proposed to Lill, that now she was undisputed sovereign of his heart, when he cooled, he was ready to smile at the tragic manner in which his wile had rushed out of the room, clutching his lust unlucky ellusion to Madame de Ilavignan. Sir l-'rcdcrick was handsome as an archangel, amiable, affectionate, and generous-hearted, but by no means the hero of romance Lill had erected him irto. Moreover, though ho had made a great show of vehemence towards .Madame do Ilavignan, he had no great capability of passion; the gentle tenderness he felt for liill was wli;it, was most in accordance with his character. LOVE IN HATE. 271 " Lill, come back tome," he called, through the closed door. The voice had its effect— she opened the door ; he seized her iu his arms, aud kissed her violently— with a violence, indeed, that was new to her. There is no calculating with sensitive natures. Lill drew back offended. She felt the caress almost an insult. " I am not Madame de Ravignan, the object of a ' mad, soul-absorbing passion,' but your wife," and she walked to the sofa. " My dear Lill !" exclaimed Sir Frederick. " I would as soon have met a tigress in my path as tliat lady." " You forget that the window is open, Sir Frederick ; that lady may hear you. You need not use such strong language to reassure me ; I am not going to play the jealous wife." " You have no cause for doing so. My dear love, how ill you look !" " No wonder !" Sir Frederick's ease of manner, which she was too agitated to perceive was assumed, threw her into one of those terrible excesses of passion in which a woman is capable of killing the man she adores. " I marvel you have survived your trials. There's your letter," she said, and threw it ou the ground, giving him a look of scorn that was equivalent to a blow on the lace. He coloured, and stooped to pick up the letter. He was in the act of tearing it, when she darted forward and tried to snatch it from him. "No you shall not destroy it; I have changed my mind,^I shall keep it." He stopped what further she would have said, by placing his hand on her mouth, exclaiming, — " Listen 1" A man in the street was shouting, " Revolution k Paris! Massacres. Battaille sanglante k Montmartre ; I'Archeveque assassin^." Sir Frederick ran out, leaving Lill undisputed posses- sion of the letter. " How much he loves me 1" she thought, bitterly. " My anguish is nothing to him ; he does not even see it. Oh ' what a fool I have been !" 272 WHO BREAKS — PATS. Sir Frederick was away nearly half an hour ; ho came back very pale. " The French mail has come in, and I have a letter from Alicia. Valentine has been severely wounded in the streets of Paris ; the doctors give little hope. My poor mother ! a shaft from her own bow has done it. I must be off for Geneva this afternoon, Lill. Do what I will, I cannot be in Paris before the day after to-mor- row, probably too late." Lill made no remark, though she had a momentary sympathy in his distress. " Your friend will be here to-day or to-morrow." he continued ; " and. with Ruth and Jacques, you will not be afraid to remain here without me." " I shall do very well," paid Lill. She did not ask to see Alicia's letter, nor for any ex- planation as to how Valentine came to bo wounded, nor yet interest herself in Sir Frederick's preparation for his journey. She sat like one overcome by invincible sleep. He was going away, then, without their having come to any understanding about those letters ; he seemed to have forgotten that she was offended, and had good right to be offended. Her heart was wounded, and her pride irritated. She was very unhappy. More than once Sir Frederick in his hurried entries and exits, looked at her; ho know she was not deficient in feeling. He looked, but Lill was cold as ice, unyield- ing as iron. " I shall go to the salle d mavcfor, and have npotnge and a cho])," he said. " I have nut more than three quarters of an hour io spare." "Yes ; I suppose you will not stop before you reach Geneva." Ho had expected something more. Ho went out of the roiim ; the sharp closing of the door made Lill s])ring from her seat. She sat miserable and undecided while he was away ; her good and )ku1 angol at either ear — the one roiM'atiiig. " Soif-sacrifice is hoiivonly; the greater the sacrifice the divin(>r;" the otiior dinning in lior oars, "Not marri('(l fur love." The room soomod ])apered with * spoutaueoiis gift." She could never forgive his writing LOVE IX HATE. 273 chat ; besides, she had seen a man in love : memory too faithfully helped her with her comparison. All the outr pourinffs of Sir Frederick fell short of the mark Giuliani's restraint had reached. She did not move when Sir Frederick came back, already with his hat on. "Lill!" he raised her up in his arms, "are we friends ?" She turned aside. He stooped to kiss her. She moved so rapidly, that the kiss fell on her head. "You are very unkind, Lill." " Unkind ! how dare you accuse me when you have made me miserable?" " It's too bad !" he said, and letting go his hold, he walked slowly to the door. He lingered ; not a syllable, not a breath even, met his ear; he was outside the door ^no relenting ; downstairs — in the street. When Lill heard the clacking of the postilion's whip, her heart had such a pang she thought it must have broken ; she felt like one annihilated. How long she remained in that stony sorrow, she never knew — perhaps a minute, per- haps an hour. Nothing that had been, ever would be the same again ; never, never more. Her eyes had been opened ; distrust had entered her soul, with grief. The next morning Lill was tormented by a visit from Mdlle. Arsenieff. The Russian had begun by being jealous of Lill for her friend Alicia's sake ; but as noth- ing is at a standstill in this world of ours, but is either diminishing or increasing, so did this dislike of Mdlle. Arsenieff augment into unreasoning hatred of young Lady Ponsonby. " T am come now to place myself under your patron- age. Lady Ponsonby," said Mdlle. Arsenieff. " Madame de Ravignan set out for Paris last evening; so did Sir Frederick, 1 hear; j^erhaps, they may make the journey together." " I think that is not probable. Sir Frederick will hurry on without a moment's delay; it is with him » matter of life and death." " They were old friends, you know. People say — " Lill interrupted her: " People say that Sir Frederick proposed to her. Oh, yes ; he told me that story 274 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. Young men's first loves, he said, are apt to be rather elderly. They are maternal, and not exacting." Another letter came from Mrs. Townsend. Marco Alberti was too ill to be moved from Turin. Could not the Ponsonbys come on there ? At that sea- son of the year the journey was nothing from Chaaibr6y. " I will go to her," said lall ; " he has set me an ex- ample of devotion to friends." She thoroughly believed what Mdlle. Arsenieff meant her to believe. And in following out her own quickly conceived plan, she was not likely to be soon undeceived. What she felt was love in hate. She adored him, yet she wished with all her heart to pain him ; she did not care at what cost to herself: vengeance on him, ven- geance on herself. She told Ruth to pack her trunks, and to desire Jacques to get Sir Frederick's luggage ready. She sent him off in charge of it to Paris the same day that she herself started for Italy. From Turin, Lill wrote to Sir Frederick. She told him in a very few lines that she had deliberately left Aix, and that, after the discovery she had made, she felt the necessity of their not meeting again at the present moment. She begged, therefore, he would agree to hei request to be allowed twelve months for retiection. He ■was, she believed too delicate-minded to refuse her. For the present it was settled she would remain with Mrs. Townsend and Madame Alberti. It was the maddest act of poor Lill's life. Had Sir Frederick had some more experience, be would have treated her malady more leniently. Unfor- tunately, also, when tliis crazy document readied liim, he had not tlie heart to lay an additional burden on l^ady Ponsonby. Valentine breathed, and tlnit was all. Ever by the bedside of the gentle, kindly-natured young man, the mother's heart ached with self-reproach that this child had hitherto been the one of hvv children aliout whom she had thought least. Alicia, therefore, was Sir Frederick's confident, and shared in his indignation. She was, as most single women usually are. unmercifully severe as to the duties of a wife; without any knowl- edge of the vagaries of an impetuous human being like Lill, with her terrible susccptiltility to a sense of wrong, LA. SUPERBA. 2(3 A-licia advised her brother to agree to his wife's demand. Lady Ponsonby, on the contrary, would have prevailed on her son to go at once to I.ill. She knew that the sight of the beloved one would act on Lill's heart like the sun on frost. However, this was not to be. Sir Frederick wrote in the first heat of his anger: "You have been absurd— take care you stop short at merely making yourself aud me ridiculous. You have revengefully calculated how to mortify and wound me. You have, therefore, for ever lowered yourself in my es- timation. I comply with the request you have made ; but do not be astonished if, at the cud of the period you have named, I may in my turn have terras to impose upon you." He enclosed at the same time a cheque for a consider able amount of money. Lill, at the first reading fell flashed with victory. 276 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. CHAPTER XLVII. La Superba. Floods of bri.srlit warm lifflit bathed the expanse of Bky, sea, and earth, that kiy stretched out before the open windows of the old palace of Doria. The sun- beams danced upon the blue waters of the wide harbour, embraced, as it were, between the loving- arms of the old and new mole. The sea arched itself beyond to meet the firuuiment in a far horizon, and showed on its broad breast of varied blue and green many a white sail. A vessel coming majestically into port under a cloud of canvas, and a steamer shooting outwards, crossed on the threshold of the marine gateway. On the left, far within the immense basin, tapered the masts of a throng of merchant ships, lying at anchor, under the shelter of the town and quays. Behind and around the shipping, up an amphitheatre of hills, extend the many-coloured palaces at Genoa, well named the " Sui)erba." On the most eastern eminence is the dome of the noble Carig nano chui-cli. fhnikcd (Ui either side by a tower. Beyond the city rise the peaks ol the lofty Apennines, each crested by its fort; from the highest point, the summits fall in a graceful gradation, like waves suddenly crystallized by some wizard power. At the extreme verge of the view to the left juts forth the bold, pictur- esque headland of Porto Fino. blue in the softening dis- tance as lapis-lazuli. Opposite to the town rises against the western sky the tall, slender column of the Lanterna, or light iiouse. After ranging over this extensive, bril- liant prt)spect, the eye returns with ])leasure to reat upon the grove of dark ilex-trees, shading part of the terrace of the palace. 'J'his terrace, based upon a rock, projects in front of the building into the sea. It is the spot wh(M-(" the Doge Andrea Doria spread llie ])rincely repast he oO'ered to the Emperor ('harles the Fifth. On a sunny day of March, 184'.), three ladies were walking under the shade of the iicx-lrees. They were Lill, Signora Marco All)erti, and Mrs. 'i'ownsend. Sor row and years had faded the faces of the sisters , bu4 LA StrPERBA. 271 f.ill, wno had not yet attained her majority, actually looked aged. Absence from those they love ages women quickly, and such had been the revolution in Lill's being during the last nine months, that they might well count as a lifftiiiie. She had the haggard eyes which one fixed thought gives. ' VVhat three specimens of matrimony we are ! Scare crows!" exclaimed Mrs. Townsend. "But I am innocent," said Signora Alberli, with frightful egotism. "I have done uothiug to deserve my troubles; and Marco would. I verily believe, see me die of grief before his eyes, rather than remain behind his regiment, though the general himself told him he was not fit for active service." '■And you complain of that ?" asked Lill. " You hav^ chosen an odd subject for lamentation — your husband's heroism." ••That sort of thing is charming to read of," retorted tlic Signora Alborti ; •' but when a wife sees her husband insisting on joining a forlorn hope— going to certain de- feat, if not to certain death- — ah ! but a very few years ago we were so comfortable, no one thinking about these detestaljle ideas of liberty." ' Only heroes lead forlorn hopes," answered Lill. "Mamma! mamma!" shouted two children; and a couple of i)retty little boys came bounding forward. Tliey threw themselves on the ground at the Signora Alberti's feet, speaking as much witli their hands as their lips, telling her that " papa had said they might go to the cathedral to attend the first service of the Tri- duum to be celebrated in behalf of the Army, if she, or their aunt, or Scii Lilla" (the name by which Lill went n the Alberti family) "would take them." The armistice called Salasco had been denounced in the first week of March, and the Piedniontcsc and Aus- trian armies were already assembling on the frontiers of Lombardy and Piedmont. It is only justice to Genoa to say that no city in the north of Italy made more costly or willing sacrifices than she did towards the end of ridding the country of foreign dominion. The Genoese are a proud, stiflf-necked, distrustful, rel:)ellious people there is. indeed, a great similarity in their history to 278 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. that of the chosen people of God, as described in the Old Testament ; and, like the Jews, the Genoese are undaunted lovers of their own superb city. When they claim for it now also the title of Italianissima, they do BO with a good right. The Signora Alberti. like all persons who insist on nursing their grievances, never accepted any means of diverting her thoughts from dwelling solely on self. So now, as usual, she left the chance of her children's going to the cathedral to the good-nature of her sister and Lady Ponsonby. San Lorenzo is a considerable distance from the Pal- azzo Doria. so that, in spite of the precaution of setting out early, the regiments to be present at the mass were turning into the Piazza Nuova as Mrs. Townsend, Lill, and the boy-s were entering the cathedral doors. A great crowd was already within, principally composed of country people — probably the families of the soldiers. It was with some difiiculty that the ladies obtainc»d chairs; the little Albertis had to stand. A moment after there was a clank and ring of swords and spurs, and thai peculiar mufQed sound wiiich is produced by the regular tread of a great body of num. 'I'he general, his aides-de-camp, and the field officers, accompanied by the well-known deputy BufTa, with the intendente of the city and other oflicials. filled the chancel. The subal- tern officers and the soldiers were in double lines down the nave and aisles. A military mass is always an imposing ceremony; in this instance it was both exciting and lieart-rending. Who could help feeling, that for many among that host of vigorous men. animated by the one sentiment which makes war a virtue, tliis was a funeral service ? The women shed their tears quietly; once only during the pidiie or sermon, a sob iiitcrruplcd llie ])reaclier auu made him pause. His words hitherto had been connnon- piace, a mere string of popular phrases; now he turned his face in the direction from whence had arisen that solitary outcry of woe: it had come from the peasant woman by Lill's side. He began a sentence, meant to convey comfort to the desolate, broke down, and was only able to exclaim over and over again, " Italia! Italia nostra!" LA SUPERBA. 27S A great murmur, like that of a wave break^ag on the Bta shore, filled the cathedral : it was the offering up of one prayer, the registering of one vow, to break the chains of Italy. Mrs. Townsend with surprise saw Lill suddenly rise from her chair and look about her, as if meditating an escape from the group which encircled her. " Are you ill ?" whispered Honora. Lill sat down again without speaking, glanced towards the chancel, then covered her face with her hands. When they were again in the street, Lill said, ab- ruptly, — " Honora. Mr. Giuliani was in the chancel ; he was next to Major Alberti." " Who ? heavens ! pedagogus ?" ■ " Don't call him names : he saw me too, but I am sure he did not recognize me at first. Am I so changed, Honora?" As she asked this she turned her face to her friend. , Mrs. Townsend began to say something jokingly about none so blind as those that won't see ; she ended by an earnest " Yes, you are killing yourself by your obsti- nacy," so suddenly struck was she by the change in Lill's appearance. It does often happen that to judge of what is daily be- fore us. we require to look at it through unaccustomed eyes. Mrs. Townsend now perceived for the first time the sad alteration that had prevented Giuliani's imme- diate recognition. A pang of fear shot through her. Remorse makes no account of time or place ; it gives its stab anywhere. In the twinkling of an eye Mrs. Town- send was thus wounded. She felt that she had not been a wise friend to Lill in the late crisis. " I hear his voice now," exclaimed Lill, touching Mrs. Townscnd's arm. Giuliani, with some other officers, was coming up quickly behind the two English ladies. As the gentle- men passed they all lifted their hats. Mrs. Townsend fancied (Jiuliani had hesitated, as though he had thought of speaking to her and Lady Ponsonby, but he went on vith the others. 280 WHO BREAKS FATS. " Mr. Gmliaui wrote to me once that he shouldn't die even if 1 refused him," observed Lill. " Did you heai how strong and cheerful his voice was? He is not changed. Men don't break their hearts for love." •' The tolerably wise among them don't exhibit the cracks in a public street," said Mrs. Townsend : " that's probably why Mr. Giuliani did not stop to speak to you." " I behaved ill to him — very ; but somehow I had a faith that he would be my friend in any case — he was so unlike other men ; I always acknov,iedged that." Mrs. Townsend made no reply; her excitable imagi- nation had composed a whole poem while Lill was speaking. What a grand, heroic, chivalrous aot it would be in Mr. Giuliani, the rejected lover, to plead the cause of the beloved rival ! I'he Italian had always had an extraordinary influence over Lill; indeed, how could the most obstinate woman resist such noble self-devotion 1 "She stands on her dignity with me, poor darling! Stupid Die ! not to have guessed she was pining to death^ to be forced to make friends with that young goose of n husband of hers." Mr-5. Townsend lost no time in thinking over her scheme; she wrote at once to Mr. Giuliani, inmost lucid phrases explaining what she hoped and expected from him. She begged also that his visit might appear un- prompted, made by his own wish. Giuliani had heard Lill's unhappy story from Alicia, who, during Valentine's long and nearly hopeless illness, had supplied her mother's place as his correspondent. ]ie knew that she had received in obstinate silence Lady I'onsonby's maternal entreaties. He did not con- deuiu the young wife so severely as did his other friends; he understood the almost supernatural trial it must have been to her, in all the pride of her youth, beauty, and love, to imagine herself accepted as a sick nurse for her husband's wounded heart. Love, he knew, would not bo satislied with less than love in return. Hy the light of his own l)urning passion he had seen deeper into himself and his fellow-beings, and had learned what to hope and what to despair of in himself and others. He had not recoven d happiness, l)ut he felt a greater fortitude to LA SUPERBA. 281 bear his own suffering, and a new power of sympathy with which to help others. In this belief it was that he would dare to obey Mrs Townsend's invitation, which had reached him the same afternoon by the hands of Major Marco Alberti. Before Mr. Giuliani pays his visit to ihe Palace Doria, it will be well to understand Lill's frame of mind at this critical juncture. During these many months of self-imposed exile from Sir Frederick, Lill had endured silently an ever-renewed, horrible internal combat ; from which she always came forth exhausted, and ever undecided as to her husband's feelings with regard to her. Her rejoicing at having left him had become very bitter rejoicing. So young as she was, was she to live to the end of her life with this bleeding heart ? She opened its wounds constantly and with predetermination ; she could not let them heal. Hours and liours of every day, hours and hours of every night, she gave to recalling Sir Frederick's words, his silences ; to picturing to herself his looks, his actions, every scene in which they had been together from the day of their first meeting to that of their parting. Often she would seize on some particular expression or sen- tence as on a prey, rending it to pieces, and always find- ing in it the poison she sought for with such curious avidity. Or she would recollect the omission of some trilling attention ; perhaps something of no more conse- quence than a yawn in a le'e-cb-Ute with her, and, with wilful, dexterous sophistry', persuade herself to accept the error of omission or commission as a proof of in- dilference. There were other even more painful phases, when she had an agony of longing to see him again; many and many a time had she exclaimed aloud in the solitude of her own room, " I am forgetting his face ; 1 don't re- meml)er him." Then she would liave inli^rvals of doubt whether she had judged him rightly ; doubts that racked her more cruelly than even her distrust of his love. Oh ! that she might have another opportunity of testing liim. z4 " 282 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. As the period of separation she had demanded was approaching its termination, a new fear gnawed at her heart. What would he do ? Wliat might be the terms which he had hinted the probability of his imposing in his turn ? Anything, anything, but not to breathe the same air, not to dwell under the same roof with him ; and yet, while feeling this, she could not keep her thoughts from glancing continually at the chance of a denial. Her woman's pride could not brook the possibility of that shame, and so she hardened herself to await her sentence in unbroken silence. AVhat wonder that this miserable state of excitement and restlessness undermined Lill's health and consumed her beauty 1 MASTER AND PUPIL. 283 CHAPTER XLVIII. Master and Pupil. The suite of apartments in the Palazzo Doria occupied by the Albertis was to the left of the great entrance ; the numerous windows of their spacious dwelling-rooms all had a view of the bay. When Lill, according to cus- tom, went to the salon after dinner, the sisters did not accompany her, for Mrs. Townsend had determined that the meeting she had arranged between master and pupil should take place without witnesses. It had been a day of hurry, confusion, and lamentation, for Marco Alberti was to start that same night, en route for Novara ; there- fore, Lill was not surprised at being allowed to leave the dining-room alone. As she entered the salon, a gentleman came from the embrasure of a window to meet her. For an instant Lili stood motionless; then said, in the unmodulated voice that had l)ecome usual to her, — " Mr. Giuliani ! this is being kinder than I expected. I am glad to see you." He said, with a visible effort, — " You have been ill." "Do you know nothing else about me , but pray sit down," and she repeated again, " lam glad to see you." "Are you?" ho asked, mechanically, not with any notion of questioning the reality of what she said, but because he was bewildered by being near her again. " Yes ; the first unpainful feeling I have had for three quarters of a year, was when I caught sight of you in San Lorenzo. Even if you are pleased to know that I am unhappy, I am still glad to see you Mr. Giuliani." One must have heard the sweet voice that has been heavenly music to one's ears, changed to a hard, cracked, toneless sound, to understand tjie heartache with which Giuliani listened to Lill. Hitherto, she had avoided looking at him ; now her eyes slowly wandered over his face as he sat silent, striving to collect his thoughts, so as to find the right words to speak to her ; she coa- tinned, — 284 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. " What an odd, unlikely coincidence, our meeting in the cathedral, with the dream you wrote me of. Do yoa remember ?" He nodded, unable to talk on that subject with calm* ness. " You are altered ; I did not think so at first : but 1 have chano^ed most. You did not recognize me at first." Giuliani had sought Lill's presence, believing his heart wounds healed over ; painful throbs told him now the contrary. His tongue was at fault ; he had avowedly come there to advise, and influence her to be reconciled to her husband ; but he felt that if he opened his lips just then, it would be to speak words he was as bound not to utter, as she not to hear. Meagre, worn, sad, she had as great an attraction for him as in all the bright- ness of her beauty. Envied, triumphant, surrounded by homage, or neglected, alone, and faded, she was equally d'.'ar to him; not more so in othe- days — not less so now. He sat on wordless, feeling that his soul was like a ship between Scylla and Charybrlis. Lill could not bear the silence. " How are your Paris friends, Mr. Giuliani ? Is Val- entine better ? Of course I ought to know, but I do not." *' He is lamed for life," said Giuliani. " Poor Valentine ! only think of his turning out a hero ; and Mrs. Caledon, is she as lively and clever as ever?" How the assumption of that gay manner jarred with the dejection stamped on Lill's countenance and figure. She was no longer poised, erect, giving the idea of a bird ready to take wing; on the contrary, her head was bent forward like one accustomed to carry a heavy burden. Giuliani roused himself from his first stupefaction of pain; he said, — "It is of what concerns yourself I wish to hear." " Of me ! oh ! dear, I don't think there is much to tell — nothing extraordinary : disappointment is very com- mon. However, I don't wisli you to have a worse opinion of me than i deserve. I did not marry for money, I as- sure you ; it was 'all for love and the world well lost;'" she gave a little dry laugh as she added, "at least on my side." " I never doubted your disinterestedness," he said. MASTER AND PUPIL. 285 with infinite pity ; " and you believe, I am sure, that even in my most selfish moments T thought of your happiness and that now to know you were happy would give me joy." For an instant the muscles round hor mouth quivered, then they resumed their rigidity, and she said, quietly, "I cannot believe in anything, Mr. (Giuliani." "So you refuse even my friendship!" He tried to speak cheerfully, but his real sadness showed through the attempted disguise. " How good you are to me !" she exclaimed, and laid a hand over her eyes. He saw first one tear, then another, and another, fall on her black silk dress. His heart quaked ; he rose and hurried to the window. The sun was already low in the cloudless west ; a long tremulo.is line of fiery gold lay on the small dancing waves. Oh ! blessed nature, that never refuses encouragement, if men would only opeu their eyes to see, their ears to hear. He had touched the fountain of her tears, and softened the hardness of her heart. She followed him to the window, saying, — " I do believe in you ; it was not true what I said. I am so unhappy ; I cannot help trying to hurt others." Her glistening eyes were raised to his, and she held out her hand to him. He made as though he had not seen the offered pledge of amity, but, drawing a chair forward, said,—" Come, let us reason a little together:" then pointing to the luminous line on the sea, he added, " Can j'ou not fancy that to be a golden path leading from this world to one brighter ?" " You are very good, indulgent, forbearing," she said, answering the train of her own thoughts, not his words. "You will not bribe me not to speak truths to you," he said, pretty firmly. " I see you liave heard about me," returned Lill, "pro- bably from no friendly source : hear now my side of the story." He guessed the comfort it would be to her to have a new auditor i'or her sorrows ; he guessed that she might have found, after the first burst of sympathy from the kind but unstable Mrs. Townsend, little of the patienc« 286 WHO brt:aks— pats. of a listener. He was aware also of the egotistical de mands of a heart new to suffering. Lill. now that the element which had disturbed her liking for the Malian was absent, once more drew near to him with faith and confidence. She told him her tale with entire trust, but with cruel naivete. She did not remark his frightful pallor, as her words, revealing such treasures of tenderness for another man met his ear. His feelings were stirred almost beyond his control. He suffered at one and the same moment for her and by her. Rage seized his heart, and held him by the throat, keep- ing him dumb. Lill ended : " There are some illusions Avhich when we once lose, the light of life goes out. Is it a part of the primeval curse, Mr. Giuliani, that affection should never be mutual ?" She looked at him as she finished speak- ing. The expression of his face puzzled her. and made her add, — " You, too, are angry with me." He struggled to recover possession of himself, and said, in a voice rough with emotion, — " Angry ? no, but I know not how to comfort you. I can only urge you to obey duty." "You are no better than one of Job's friends," she said, disappointed, then added, with a miserable attempt at sarcasm,—" Why don't you go on and lell mo tliat my suffering is deserved ; thaf it is a fair retribution; that I deceived you, who trusted in me, and now it is my turn to be deceived and betrayed; that I should boar ray punishment patiently : that it is weak to complain ? All undeniably true. 1 have said it for you. Now lot us talk of something else." The last words came forth in little hard S()1)S. (Jiuliaiii turned away his head, that she might not see how unmanned he was. Prosoutly he said, — " You have reminded me of Job's denunciation againgt a false friend. 'He that spoakoth fiattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail.' I must fulfil my dnty as a friend, tliouirh truth is always liard to bear, (iod knows how willingly 1 would spare you even •■ the passing pain T know I shall now give you. You are but twenty, I believe : su])])osing that, by persistenee in your present resolution not to seek to bo reconciled to MASTER AND PUPIL. 287 your husband, this separation should become a lasting one, how do you mean to pass the next ten years of your youth ? You have not probably taken that into consideration yet, Lady Ponsonby. The heart does not die at your age, and, however monstrous and impossible the supposition appears to you now, I warn you, that you will inevitably seek compensation for your sorrow." "Stop, sir," she exclaimed, vehemently. "One moment bear with me," he said. "We cannot concentrate the consequences of our actions in one point; we cannot say, thus far shall they go and no farther. You are so young; have pity on yourself." There were tears in his eyes. " It is not Uod who will have made this fate for you ; you will have made it for yourself, because you have not known how to discipline your own passions." " I am not a mere vulgar, jealous wife, Mr. Giuliani. I can forgive ; I do forgive : but I know that the evil ander which I bend is without remedy for me ; the past cannot be undone : if I could only forget ! But wherever T turn I see every syllable of that horrible letter ; de- ceived ! deceived in the moment of greatest trust ! Mr. Giuliani, you don't know the words he spoke to me the very day, almost within the very, hour that he wrote to her — how could he have the heart? Oh ! never, never to believe in him again ; it is too hard, too hard." The scientific physician, the keen-witted barrister lie in wait for accidents to guide them in delicate, intricate cases. What science, what practised penetration does for the man of medicine or of law, love did for Giuliani. Forgetful of self, he thought only of how to reach and counteract the poison corroding Lill's heart. He said, — " Look at me. Lady Ponsonby." She turned to him in surprise. _ "Well, you recognize in me — do you not? — the same signs of repressed agitation — you detect in me the same quivering of the muscles, the weakness of the flesh when under the hot ploughshare of agony — that were visible in Sir Frederick Ponsonby when he found himself so un- expectedly in Madame do Ravignan's presence?" "No," she faltered, joining her hands in dawning hopeful prayer, or in intercession to be spared his 288 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. reproaches, or a mingling of one feeling and the other. " You perceive a difference ; now, then, you can under- stand that selfishness, pride, revenge, all man's base passions, would naturallyurge me to influence you against Sir Frederick Ponsonby ; you can understand how much power you have given me, by complaining of him ; now, then, will you refuse to credit me, when I protest to you. what indeed any commonly experienced man would laughingly tell you was as evident as the light of day, that your husband once had a caprice, a fancy, for this French widow, and that he extricated himself from this awkward predicament in the most gentlemanly manner he could ; that is, by giving her the honours of war ? Deep wounds have visible scars, believe me. Lady Ponsonby." As he thus tore open his own heart to comfort her, he saw a gleam of joy light up her eyes. She had no thought for his pain, unless as aa acceptable witness in her husband's favour. " But he said he would give her his life, but not his honour," she objected. "Ay ! men not only say so, but they do give their lives, when the loss of honour implies anything hut the giving up a woman they love for one they do not. Constancy, in this last case, is a very rare example to find among men." " You would not deceive me," she said, almost coax- ingly. He had no strength left for further argument, but yet enough to trample out the last spark of feeling for him- self; he answered. — "Write to him. recall him. say come." " But will he ? AVili he really forgive me?" she asked, in a tremulous, eager voice. She would not then spare him one pang; he said, hastily, — "And when he comes, fall on his neck — " utterance faili'il him. There was a long pause. When Lill looked again at Giuliani, he was gazing intently at the western lu)rizoa " Oh ! you are good !" once more said Lill. lie bmiled on her, and, pointing to the radiance above MASTER AND PUPIL. 289 the sea line, quoted to her these words : " ' Man, of what dost thoii complain ? Of struggle ? It is the condition of victory. Of injustice? What is that to an immortal being? Of death? It is freedom.' And now, Lady Ponsonby, farewell !" '■ When shall I see you again, Mr. Giuliani ?" " I leave to-night for Novara." " I forgot — oh ! I am so ungrateful — I have not asked about yourself." " 'JMiank you, there is little to say on that subject. I am in the Piedmontese service. We have been unfortu natc, but the good seed is sown ; it will yet bear a rich harvest ; I am content in that belief, though perhaps 1 may not see the reaping." lie was gone, and she had not even shaken hands witli him. He left her, knowing that she had scarcely a glimmer- ing consciousness of the hard victory he had won over self for her sake. Before he quitted Genoa, Giuliani wrote to the dow- ager Lady Ponsonby ; he said that he considered there was no time to be lost, if Lill's life was to be saved. He explained that her emaciation was extreme, while her eyes were unspeakably lustrous, and on her cheeks were carmine spots, fatal indications of internal devouring fever. Happiness and tranquillity must undo the work of grief and agitation. Lill obeyed Giuliani's advice with the submission of a child. She wrote to her husband, " Come and forgive me." These two letters went by the next day's mail ; but it was not in 1849 as it is now : there were then no rail- ways completed between Italy and Paris. Moreover Sir Frederick was in England. 25 290 WHO BREAKS — PATS. CHAPTER XLIX. ' Pazienza t After the departure of the troops in Genoa to Novara, there was a pause of all external demonstration in the city ; it seemed to settle into calm, but it was like that hot, seething calm which precedes a physical or moral tempest. The same unnatural tranquillity was visible in Lill. She had calculated that her letter, leaving Genoa on the 19th of March, would reach Sir Frederick on the 25th or 26th. She allowed him a day to reply to it ; she might hear from him, therefore, as soon as the 2nd of April — might, perhaps, see him. " Pazienza !" she said, using the word as the Italians did with respect to Austrian rule ; that is, to indicate a never-dying im patience. On the 24th of March this strange quiet in the town disappeared. No one knew whence the rumours of dis- aster to the Piedmontese army, but the very air seemed alive with them. Treachery, defeat, victory, alternated on pale, quivering lips;«and yet the fact was patent, that all the couriers from Turin to head-quarters at Novara had been intercepted, and obliged to return, so that all communication between Charles Albert and his capital was cut oif. The following day's alarm and perturbation were still more general. At noon on the 27th, the news of the battle and defeat of Novara, and of the King's abdica- tion, came like a thunderclap. The Genoese would not swallow this bitter cup, wiliiout giving signs of life ; the words said to have been uttered by diaries Albert, " All is lost ; even honour 1" maddened the Ligurians. " Not so," said they. " If all is lost, we will save our honour ; for that people whicli can survive infamy is no longer a people, but a llock of slaves, bearing on their brows the mark of God's Curse." 'I'liiit very evening there were tumults in the streets, and the rappel was beaten. It was not till the 31st of March that matters assumed PAZIEUZA ! 291 an nnoomfoitable aspect. The presence, however, of H.M.S. Vengeance in tlie bay kept tie minds of the few Englisl) families in Genoa at rest. Madame Alberti, who had heard of her husband's safety, began preparations for leaving; \ it Lill declared she would not stir for all the cannon in the world till she had received her letter. Of Giuliani there had been no news. On the 1st April, a Sunday, Lill and Mrs. Townsend, after church, took a wjtlk on the bastions of Santa Oliiara, and so into the heart of the town. The walk was lou^^ and the sun hot. Feeling tired, they went into the little church of the Madonna delle Grazie to rest They had remarked the entire absence of all soldiers or sentinels on the ramparts, and that the cannon were left to their own care. Lill had just said, " How quiet everything is 1" when suddenly there was a sound or drums and shouts. The two ladies, thougli accustomed to street demon- strations during the last week, thought it nevertheless wise to hasten homewards. They met a few men vocife- rating loudly, "Air arini, all' armi!" and frightened women's faces looked out of the windows, but as yet, though they saw plenty of cause for hurry, they saw none for alarm. Tliey had to pass the Ducal Palace ; a.^ they neared it the scene changed. There was an uproar and a ci-owd. Masses of men were dragging cannon, then there was a rushing sound, and Lill felt herself caught hold of and pushed back into a little wooden shed. Slie tried to see what was going on, but a strong hand turned her forcibly away from the street. One of those horrible popular retributions was being enacted. A spy, one of those whose trade is to sell blood, had been f()und, and was saci-ificed in a moment of mcb fury. •'This is no time for women to be abroad," said an English voice. "Ladies, allow me to take you home." The person speaking was in the British naval uniform, a middle-aged man. Lill glanced at him, ami then ac- cepted his olfered arm, Mrs. Townsend taking the other. Ilis uniform was of the shabbiest; but they both in- ttinctively recognized in him a man of their own rank. '* What is going to happen V asked Mrs. Townsend. 292 WHO BREAKS — PATS. " Nothing less than treason and rebellion, though 1 oelieve the perpetrators in good faith will consider themselves the new King's best subjects." " You think there will be real, downright fighting ?" said Honora. " Perhaps, but there's the big ship for you. I dare say, there are some young men on board who will willingly give you np their quarters." " I am not afraid," said Lill. The officer made a half-comic grimace. " Not the first time you have been in action, I suppose. You don't even start when the great guns bellow ; so much the better. You know the Consul, of course. Now. my ad- vice to you is. if he abandons the town, you do the same. When the sight of his gray hat no longer makes these Zeneixi fly right and left, you come away." He left them at the door of the jialazzo with a good- natured " Don't forget my advice ; above all, take your measures to be well informed about the gray hat, and keep out of the streets.'' "I wonder who he is himself," said PTonora. "that he makes so free with the hats of dignitaries. How I wish English people would not go about in such shabby clothes when they are on the Continent!" In those times Genoa had no letter carriers. On the next afternoon, the 2nd of April, Lill, in spite of the warning advice of the day before, unknown to Mrs. Townsend, went by herself to the post-office. If disap pointmcnt awaited her, she could bear it best by herself. " No letter," was the answer slie received, but would not believe ; she thrust forward her passport a second and even a third time. It was a moment when incivility miglit have been excused, but the Italians are fundjv mentally good-natured, and even i ])louse." She bowed and left him. He went calmly enough up to the side of the bed, on which lay the remains of t lie woman he had so trulj loved. Could anything so lovely be death ? A smile of hope was on the sweet white face. Kvery trace of the care and grief that had so changed licr when he last saw lier. had vanished. She looked yonnger than he had ever known her. lie stooped down to press a kiss on those exquisite li]is. "Lill!" he ejaculated; it was the first time he had WHO BREAKS — rAYS. 301 thus named her — " Lill ! yon Vould say No, if you could Bpcak ; I will not rob you now." lie drew forward a chair and sat down by the body. Those who have kept a similar vigil know how faithfully memory paints in such moments. Every scene in which he and Lill had met, every word, every look of hers, came livingly back to Giuliani. There she was again before him in all the grace of her piquant beauty playfully defying Sir Mark. That picture dissolved into another, in which she appeared first as the pretty petu- lant pupil, soon subdued to gentleness by his repellent coldness — a coldness only skin deep, God knows. If any had been by to mark him, they would have seen hira sometimes smile, so lifelike were the visions passing be- fore him. Once, he fancied she called him " Mr. Giuliani." He started to his feet ; it surely was not possible that he had only recollected the sound of her voice speaking his name. He had not yet drained the bitter cup to the lees. He had done for the best ; but why had he, a man marked down by calamity, tried twice to influence the fate of that bright creature ? If — What worlds of agony that little word can hold — ah ! it was a pitiful case. *** ******* At midnight there wus a great stir in the Palazzo Doria ; Sir Frederick Ponsonby had arrived. " Who was to tell him what had happened ?" " Not I, not I," cried Mrs. Townsend, wringing her hands. Mercifully, Sir Frederick knew his misfortune. He had heard of it before leaving the steamer from some custom-house officers, who, in ignorance of his interest in the tragical occurrence — already become town talk — had related every detail in his presence. Once again Mrs. Townsend was a guide to the Chamber of Death. Giuliani was still seated by the bed, his look riveted to Lill's face. He was violently moved when Sir Fred- erick went in ; Mrs. Townsend saw his eyes lighten with passion ; then he turned to take one more glance of 302 WHO BREAKS — PAYS. those beloved features ; subdued, he bowed to Sh Frederick, quietly left the room, and iuimediately after the house. Of him none of his former friends know aught, save that he went to Rome, one of Manara's deathless band. Lill lies buried in the Protestant Cemetery of San Benigno. It was never ascertained with any certainty how she met her death; it was supposed she had slipped out to watch for the French steamer, and been hit by mere accident. In all probability, the sharp report which by its proximity had so startled the Signora Alberti, had sounded poor Lill's knell. The surgeons one and all agreed that her death had been too instantaneous for pain of bod\' or mind. " She was so happy, so very happy, the whole of that day," was all the comfort Mrs. Townsend could think of for the wretched husband ; — " she will never know grief again ; she is safe in the Land of Promise?" ma RRD. i-mm UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8,'57 (.0868084) 444 !'■■ try ■ tifiufi III Miv ll.ii.r .t Cii.^H iiiibUvaUotui will he *«"«, poiil-IKitd, to any t of Uie aUverttteii price, J'eriotiM in Hi* cmiin- ■lllu. 36 //(»» be compared to these bnt in the earlier and best paRcs of (ieorKO IJliot.'" — / /itl'ird, SCINTILLATIONS FROM HEINE. $1.25. "Thoyiiiv classified after a very a