1 V \. COMMODORE PERRY'S JAPAN EXPEDITION. D. APPLETON & CO., 3 have designated, will eagerly peruse this elegant publication, prepared, as it has been, with so eminent care, judgment and skill." From the N. Y. Daily Times. "Rarely has a Narrative appeared so intelligible in all points. There can be no mistake, from first to last, as to the meaning of a single sentence. Every thing is definite and intelligible. The book has all the interest of romantic fiction, combined with the effect of incidents of actual occurrence and great novelty." From the Boston Post. "Without abating one jot of self-respect, or employing one particle of humbug, tho American Commodore did with Japan what no one else had done before. He and his officers were straightforward and courteous in all their dealings with the Japanese, and the digest of their reports and other documents attests their intelligence and education, and thereby does honor to the country of which they were, in the sight of the world, the able and successful representatives." From the Boston Journal. "It is a book which, taken as a whole, will give much pleasure and satisfaction, and, being copiously illustrated with maps and engravings, will cultivate the acquaint- ance of the public with the geography and inhabitants of the Japanese Archipelago." From the Evening Post. "The negotiations of the Commodore with the Japanese present a new plan of diplomacy, and the book abounds with notices, throwing light on tfae social and moral character of the Japanese, and their political and religious institutions. There were skilful artists accompanying the expedition, and the illustrations are by no means the least interesting part of the book." From the Portland Christian Mirror. " The general reader, as well as the diplomat and naturalist, *ill be both interested and instructed in matters of social economy, in diplomacy, and in science." HOME AND THE WORLD. BY THE AUTHOR OP "SOUVENIRS OF A RESIDENCE IN EUROPE." And catch the manners living as they rise." NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 846 & 848 BROADWAY. 1857. ENTBBKD according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by D. APPLETON & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. HAVING promised in the introductory chapter of this volume to dispense with the formality of a preface, a few words, not meriting so grave a title, will suffice to say that the historical personages who appear in it were sketched from life, that Victor's destiny is recorded in the annals of the startling period when it was fulfilled, and that the African characters are real, and have literally spoken for themselves. In regard to all the other characters, while they are believed to be true to nature, and were intended to represent traits and dispositions which are not unfrequently met with in real life, the writer begs to enter a protest against the identi- fication of any of these portraits, not belonging to the domain of public history, with individual personages, either past or present. 427640 CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. II. UNCLE TOM'S FREEDOM .... 21 III. 29 IV. ENGLISH MANNERS 39 V. MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS . 54 VI. A CHRISTMAS PARTY .... 68 VII. A SHADE ON THE PICTURE . . 78 VIII. A BRIDAL 87 IX. THE SCENE CHANGES .... . 100 X. A NOBLE ARTIST 115 XL A COURT AND A MINIATURE BALL . 132 XII. REMINISCENCES FOR THE DILETTANTI 146 XIII. "GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!" . . 15G XIV. THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY 170 XV. A MASQUERADE ..... . 185 XVI. THE INCOGNITA 195 XVII. THE CONFESSION . . 206 XVIII. THE CARNIVAL 216 XIX. LONGCHAMPS , 233 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XX. XXL XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. xxvm. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXXII. xxxm. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. THE CONSPIRATORS . THE ACCIDENT .... THE RESULT OF THE PLOT A LAST FAREWELL ROYAL DISGUISES NINA A CATASTROPHE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE . THE VEILED LADY AN ADVENTURE AN OASIS IN AN AFRICAN DESERT A TORNADO .... A BRILLIANT DESTINY AN EXPLANATION . THE BEAUTIFUL NUN . THE MEETING LOVE'S GIFTS .... CONCLUSION PAGE 244 25G 270 279 289 300 313 319 327 340 354 371 378 386 394 400 406 HOME AND THE WORLD. CHAPTER I. AVONMORE. TRUTH is often more marvellous than fiction, and the most successful writers of romance, like the great painters of old, owe their success to their faithful por- traiture of nature : but as it is impossible to " breathe the breath of life" into either pictures or romances, it is fair to place the lights and shadows so as to produce harmony and beauty, and if for the sake of contrast some of the shadows are very dark indeed, and some of the lights are almost supernal, we should not pro- nounce the picture unnatural. The divine Raphael, studied, reproduced, gazed at, admired and loved, unites all suffrages, not only because he is true to nature, but because he repre- sents nature in her loveliest and most graceful forms. The writers of romance would do well to remember that while the pictures of Raphael, always bearing the impress of the " beauty of holiness," are still of priceless value, and counted as are brilliants among precious stones, works of equal genius but of debas- ing tendency are sinking into oblivion and contempt. HOME AND THE WORLD. To the utilitarian who despises both the pictures of the mind and the pencil, who tramples the flowers scattered in our daily path beneath his busy feet, those flowers more delicately and gorgeously attired than " Solomon in all his glory," who sees in the sparkling stream and dashing waterfall only the re- quisite power to put his machinery in motion, in " the moon walking in brightness" only some vague indi- cation of the state of the tide that brings his heavily freighted ship into harbor, in even the glorious sun- light only economy of fuel and gas, it is in vain to appeal. To such we would only send a collection of the choicest and freshest, but most useless flowers, with a copy of Dickens' " Hard Times." The lovers of the ideal, the imaginative, the beau- tiful, have their warrant in those parables so full of pathos, of heavenly wisdom, of sublime grandeur. " One jot " of these can " never pass away," and while the world stands, there will be writers and readers of works of imagination. Let these works then, like the steam which has revolutionized the world, instead of being suppressed, receive a proper direction, and then " And then," the readers of my story are ready to exclaim, "we are to have a utilitarian discourse on this mighty theme ! " Patience, gentle friends ! this was only the preface ; but knowing from expe- rience, how little favor a preface finds with fair read- ers, it is placed at the beginning of the first chapter, that you may not skip at once into the story, without having some idea of what you may encounter in your travels. Yet you shall not be taxed too heavily, lest AVONMOKE. 9 you throw the volume aside altogether ; so now imagine the ouverture completed, the Corypheus low- ering his baton and wiping his forehead, and the curtain withdrawn from our picture. You shall find it not only a tableau vivant, but a tableau parlant. Christmas was at hand the blessed season that makes cold hearts warm and old hearts young ; when thoughts of the year that is past and trembling an- ticipation of the new year about to dawn, are alike merged in present happiness : when to those who " sit in darkness " the " light springs up," when the " wise and noble," following the bright star of the East, offer their costly gifts as of old at the Redeem- er's feet, and when even the joyous and tender accents of childhood are heard lisping the name of the babe of Bethlehem. How and when this season of thanksgiving and joy and gladness came to be transferred to the new year, while Christmas often passes neglected by, with some few religious observances, too often alas ! rather cold and heartless, or else regarded only as a time of holiday and good cheer for the poor and the servants of the rich, it would be difficult to say. " The tidings of great joy " were proclaimed to all, " the glory " that " shone around " was sent to illumine the hearts and the dwellings of the great as well as of the hum- ble. And yet the cordial greeting, the friendly embrace, the bright smile of welcome, are now re- served for the new year alone. Sympathies, gifts, letters, visits, all the gems of " love's shining circle " are set in one glittering diadem to adorn the brow 1* 10 HOME AND THE WORLD. of the idolized new year. Christmas, the life and soul of both new and old year, is too often left un- adorned, but by the single radiant star that still leads on the faithful, while the fashion of this world places a soulless image in the shrine which the true light should illuminate. Such innovations had found no favor at Avon- more, the country-seat of Mr. Melville, and the present scene of our story. Christmas was at hand, and the inmates of the old home were busily engaged in preparations for the festive season. How the noble hickory wood fires, piled up with artistic skill in the wide hearths, blazed and sparkled ! giving out not only their genial warmth, but a light that paled the wintry sunbeams stealing in through the sheltering crimson curtains. How merrily the sound of gay young voices and ringing laughter echoed through the great hall, as the finishing touches were put to the decoration of the Christmas tree ! the tree of golden fruit and perennial bloom, around which lay so many bright hopes, so many tender and loving thoughts of home ! But this mysterious tree with its garlands and fruits and flowers, was carefully screened from view until the blissful moment when the tiny wax tapers with which the decorations were plentifully inter- spersed should blaze forth, and give its glories to the wondering eyes and eager hands of the admiring little throng, who were each to claim a portion of its treasures. If a tableau vivant had been wanting in the pre- paration, as it was expected in the progress of the AVONMORE. 11 fete, a prettier one could not have been devised than the group clustered around that Christmas tree. It was properly the charge of little Alice, who with her friends anticipated the chief enjoyment of it ; but her efforts would have been unavailing to render it worthy of her friends and her lovely little self, for a lovely child she was, that little Alice ! and none could look into her deep blue eyes or on her dimpled cheeks, or her golden ringlets, without thinking of something better than our every-day thoughts sug- gest. She stood on tip-toe, with her hands resting on the table from which rose the tree, looking eagerly and alternately into the faces of her brother and sister, which were bent lovingly down toward her, and never were three more beaming and beautiful faces in such close proximity. " Now Constance ! now Vivian ! " she cried, " lift me up that I may see those bunches of cherries and currants on the top. I wonder if Ellen and Anna will take them for real fruit ! " Her brother playfully obeyed the command, and seated her on his shoulder. " Take your last look, little puss," he said, kissing her and setting her gently down, after she had made a satisfactory survey of the mimic fruits, " for this mysterious door must be shut until the moment has arrived for the important revelation. Now trot off, and if you chance to meet Johnson in the hall, tell him to tell Hostler Dick to have Wildair saddled for me. I promised mamma two dozen partridges as my contribution to her Christmas dinner, and I have 12 HOME AND THE WOELD. hardly time to redeem my promise unless I shoot them on the ground, which a true sportsman would scorn." " Your message will hardly facilitate the object," said Constance, laughing. " Let us see. You tell Alice to tell Johnson to tell " " Oh truce, truce, ! " cried Vivian. " I take the hint, as I told you I would, whenever you remind me of our southern propensities. I'm off ! tell " But Constance held up her small white hand with the forefinger menacingly raised, and he was gone in a moment. Soon he was seen in the distance with a Manton on his shoulder, and a pointer dog at Wildair's heels. It would have required but little imagination to fancy the man, the horse, the dog, and the gun, all part and parcel of each other, so har- moniously were they grouped, so lithe and easy and graceful was the animated part of the picture. " Thar' he goes ! " exclaimed Hostler Dick, sus- pending the operation of the wisp of straw with which he was polishing down the legs of his horses, and looking with evident pride and exultation after his young master. " Wuth while to ride that a way, hey uncle Tom ? wouldn't ha' had such a seat as that, howsomever, if I hadn't ha' larnt him, didn't I ? Now that's what I calls a hawss ! " The last superlative of admiration was doubtless intended for the rider instead of the animal, but since the celebrated climax of a western eulogium on the Father of his Country ending with " In short, fellow- citizens, General Washington was a horse ! " we need not wonder that Hostler Dick should have found AVONMOEE. 13 his beau-ideal of perfection in the stable where his days were chiefly passed. His soliloquy, or his observation, whichever it might be called, found its way over the gate that divided the stable-yard from the lower part of the large garden which was devoted to culinary plants, and where " Uncle Tom " was engaged with a hoe in uncovering some fine white celery. A large gray cat, which was as constantly his companion as the cat of the Godolphin Arabian was the inseparable of her equine friend, was lying near him on a tuft of grass. Puss was basking and blink- ing in the sun, her upturned nose and yellow eyes, their long pupils diminished to a thread, sheltered by her tail curled daintily around them. As Uncle Tom was a character in his way, wo shall take the liberty of presenting him to our reader. He was an old man, older perhaps in his own remi- niscences than in reality, though his white hair, or rather wool, proved his right to the venerable age he claimed. There was an air of neatness and com- fort in his thick gray homespun suit and clean shirt collar, in his warm woollen hose and stout shoes, and in the striped gray and white cap of fine worsted which appeared beneath his broad-brimmed hat. The cap, he boasted, " Mistis knit for him with her own white hands." So much for his outward man ; to judge fairly of him, he must speak for himself. " Yes ! " he replied to Hostler Dick's observation, and apparently comprehending the intended appli- cation of the epithet of hawss, " he's as fine a lad as you'll meet with any whar' between this and Ken- 14 HOME AND THE WOELD. tucky. But you needn't say, boy, you larnt him to ride. You larn him, indeed ! why you might jes as well say you larnt a hawss to eat grass. It's natur, chile, it's natur. Young master was on a pillow 'fore master ridin' when he warn't more'n so high," mea- suring about a foot of the hoe handle, "and jes as soon as his little legs could straddle the hawss, jump ! he was up ahind. You larn him, indeed!" And Uncle Tom resumed his digging with increased energy, as if to work off his indignation at the sug- gestion. " Well, you needn't git mad 'bout it, Uncle Tom," said Dick in a deprecatory tone, " I didn't 'zactly say I larnt him, I only ax you, didn't I larn him ? Can't you len' a han' here a minnit and help a poor feller fix these here hawsses ? Sam's gone somewhar' for master, and Jem's laid up ; he's allays laid up, Jem is, whenever Christmas comes round. And here's Bess, and Flora, and the carriage hawsses to clean and litter. Jes len' a han', Uncle Tom," said Dick coaxingly. "Well," said Uncle Tom, soothed by the con- cession made to his superior judgment, " I'm allays willin' to help a fellow-creetur when he'll listen to reason." And with an alacrity that showed his pos- session of the power to " len' a han' " when the will guided him, Uncle Tom busied himself with cleaning and rubbing down the horses until their polished coats shone like a mirror. " Thar' now ! " he exclaimed, straightening him- self up with an additional interjection of "whew ! " " Thar's what would make a day's work for you and AVONMOBE. 15 Sam and Jem, all put together. Well, what's to pay now ? " This last inquiry was addressed to a little urchin, who came skipping down to the stable with an alter- nate hop, step, and jump. " What's to pay now ? " repeated Uncle Tom, as soon as the cessation of the joyous exercise gave the boy breath to reply. " Gran'mammy wants the key o' your hen-us, sir. There's fresh eggs wantin' at the kitchen, sir." Uncle Tom always exacted this " sir " from his numerous descendants. "Well, chile, ain't she got no eyes? the key's right in the cupboard afore 'em, if she had any to see with, poor old creetur." The boy was hopping off with the message, when Uncle Tom hailed him. " Look 'e here, chile ! what sort o' foolishness you call that ? Why don't you use both your legs, as God has given you in his goodness, instead o' standin' on one leg jes like a goose as you is ? Come here to me, sir. Now that I think on it, how come you to be swar'in' when you was a sweepin' the walks yesterday ? huccom you to swar' how corned you to swar ? " with a strong emphasis on the variations made in the sentence. " Me swar', sir ! " answered the boy, opening his round eyes to their largest dimensions, " me swar' ? I never did swar', sir, in all my born days." " Now don't go for to tell me no stories," pursued Uncle Tom. " Mistis tell me her own self, as how 16 HOME AND THE WORLD. Miss Alice heard you say ' The devil ! ' when you was a sweepin' the walks." The round eyes subsided to their usual dimen- sions, and the boy's mouth in turn expanded to the broadest possible grin. " I warn't a swar'in' gran' daddy, I was jes' sayin' that new hyme you larnt me, 'bout the devil tempt the 'ooman, and the 'ooman tempt the man." " Clar' out, you little varmint ! " said Uncle Tom, his features at once relaxing from their severity, into an expression hardly less waggish than that of his grandson. "Clar' out! make tracks!" he con- tinued, " or I'll throw something at you ! " The boy dexterously caught the apple which Uncle Tom took from his pocket and pretended to aim at his head, and disappeared this time, in a twinkling, on both legs. " Now sure as I'm alive," said Uncle Tom, after this feat, " thar's them young ladies a comin' down the garden, and I've been a cleanin' o' hawsses instead o' gittin' the green things as I promised 'em, but I must git this here salary fust, any how." He resumed his hoe and continued his work, as if in ignorance of the gradual approach of the two young girls, who, with their arms linked lovingly together, were sauntering down the garden walk, apparently thinking more of the bright sunshine and their own gay converse, than o*f Uncle Tom, or the evergreens he had promised for their Christmas decorations. Their warm winter attire, suited for a walk in the country, gave to view but little of their charms, and hardly more could be seen than four of the brightest AVONMOKE. 17 eyes, and occasionally, as the conversation became more animated, two rows of the purest pearls that ever sparkled within roseate lips. The scene around them was one which even the " ruler of the inverted year " could not entirely deprive of its beauty. A profusion of evergreen trees were scattered in every direction through the extensive grounds of Avonmore among the choice deciduous va- rieties planted by succeeding generations ; and if it were not literally " the land of the cedar and myrtle," there was quite enough of his first named favorite to realize the poet's dream. Jlis second was well repre- sented by the perennial box to which the growth of a century had given the dignity of trees. The feathery Weymouth pine, the arbor vitse, the Balm of Gilead, the holly with its clustering crimson berries, and most beautiful of all, the glittering magnolia grandiflora, redeemed the landscape from its otherwise wintry as- pect, and seemed almost to contradict the certainty that the " Frost king " was at hand. The songsters, who, at a more propitious season, would have given fresh life to these their favorite summer haunts, were mute. Only the superb cardi- nal, better known by his every day title of" Red-bird," flitted by like a " fire naught," and proudly raising his plumed head, glanced as patronizingly and haughtily at our two nymphs, as if he had been a young officer just promoted in the life-guards of Queen Victoria. The house was just visible through the trees from the point they had attained, and like the grounds, showed the work of successive generations. The original structure had received many additions, some 18 HOME AND THE WORLD. of the latest claiming a title to architectural taste, and completely overshadowing the modest pointed gables of the ancient parts of the building. The wings that flanked it, spread themselves out as if to embrace the family and its often numerous visitors within their hospitable shelter, and gave to very prudent people the idea that they might, at some future day, without good management on the part of the proprietor, assist the house to " take the estate on its back, and fly away with it." This, however, would have been rather a heavy task, as the domain embraced several thousand acres, and the wide-spreading fields and regal looking forests nearest in the view belonged to it, and were yearly appreciating in value. But the elevation of the site gave a prospect far more extensive than the immediate vicinity, and of- fered every variety to the lovers of rural scenery. The blue line of the horizon stretched out in a semi- circle on one side, broken only by a few shadowy peaks of mountains that resembled ships on the far distant ocean, and was met by the bold indentations of a chain of mountains on the other. The sinuosi- ties of a river, though not sufficiently near to complete the beauty of the landscape by a water view, were indicated by a vapor of fleecy white that marked its course, and might to a casual observer have been mis- taken for the river itself. Neither city nor village was in sight, and the neighboring country seats were too much embosomed in trees to be visible. Only through a vista cut appa- rently for the purpose in a fine skirt of wood, appeared AVONMOKE. 19 the castellated tower of the church : for a church there was, and one of such uncommon beauty that it ex- cited the wonder of transatlantic strangers who some- times visited this remote region, how such structures should " rise like exhalations " throughout our favored land without the aid of an establishment. Near, though separated by a cultivated field, rose another wood of primeval oaks, whose giant arms were in bold relief against the clear blue sky. " There is the Tarleton wood of which I told you, Evelyn," said Constance Melville to her young com- panion, for as the reader may have surmised, one of these fair friends was a child of the family. " And there is the old oak tree, so completely covered with mistletoe, that it seems to wave its garlands of emer- alds and pearls, as if in mocking triumph over its less fortunate neighbors." " What an imagination you have, Constance ! " replied Evelyn, " garlands of emeralds and pearls ! why you rival Aladdin's lamp with your fancied treas- ures. But how are we to rob the old tree of those treasures unless we can find an Aladdin to help us ? " " I think I see one of oriental extraction at least, if not one possessed of oriental magic," said Constance, pointing to Uncle Tom. "But I am almost afraid to invoke the magician's art ; not that I am in terror of any witchcraft, or being spirited up to the top of the tree, but this air is rather keen to listen to any of the ' thousand and one ' tales and anecdotes with which he generally regales us. In a spring morning, when the garden is in Eden-like freshness, it is but fair to listen to him while we gather the roses he cultivates so sedu- 20 HOME AND THE WORLD. lously, to make up our bouquets ; but like the world, as we have heard of it, not as we have yet found it, Evelyn, we are too apt to run away from our benefac- tor, when we have no interests to subserve.". " A precious confession ! " returned Evelyn. "As a punishment for so grave an offence, I mean to keep you prisoner for at least ten minutes, while I hear one of these thousand and one Arabian nights." "Ten minutes, my dear!" exclaimed Constance, laughing ; " why, you might as well have limited the Princess Scheherezade to so brief a space. The story of the Tarleton wood alone would occupy far more tune than you propose, and I, having heard it as often as Edith Bellenden was doomed to hear the description of the breakfast or disjeune his most sacred majesty Charles the Second was pleased to take at the castle of Tillietudlem, listen to it now rather abstractedly, I confess. But if you insist upon it, you are fairly en- titled to any amusement you can gather from this or any other source, before our jour de fete arrives." CHAPTER H. UNCLE TOM'S FREEDOM. " GOOD morning, young ladies ! The tip top o' the morning to you, young ladies," said Uncle Tom, as Constance and her friend approached, scrupulously adding the g to his repetition of the word morning, for he always adapted his style of speaking to his company, and on the present occasion was nice to a g if not to a t. He accompanied the salutation by taking off his hat, and bowing twice, so low that it would have been difficult to determine whether the salaam was made through profound respect or wag- gish drollery. It was probably a mixture of both. " Happy to see you again, Miss Evelyn," he con- tinued. " Happy to see you at the old place once more. Now Miss Constance," this rather aside, and in the earnestness of his apology forgetting his aris- tocratic style, " I'm a guine this very minnit to git the things as I promised you, jes as soon as ever I can fix this here salary." "Thank you, Uncle Tom," replied Constance, hoping for this time to escape the "thousand and one." " But what have you there in those funny looking boxes by you ? " 22 HOME AND THE WORLD. " Them boxes ? the littlest one's got a Christmas present in it for Miss Alice : it's a little ground-squir- rel. You can see him through that hole : he ain't much bigger than a mouse, for all he's got such a handsome bushy tail. I know she ain't guine to keep him, she's so tender-hearted, but she'll have the fun of letting him out and seeing him run away. "And you want to know what's in the biggest box ? well, it's nothing in life but a 'possum that my tarrier dog Teucer caught for me last night. You don't surely want to see such a ugly varmint as a 'possum, Miss Evelyn ? " he added interrogatively, seeing the girls peeping curiously through the bars laid on the top of his prison-house, to prevent the escape of the animal. "Certainly I do, Uncle Tom, I never saw one before, as often as I have heard of them. Why, what a ridiculous looking creature ! " " Ridic'lus ! " said Uncle Tom, " you ain't half seen him yet. Laugh for the ladies, Poss ! laugh now, I tell you ! " repeated Uncle Tom, accompany- ing his exhortation with a slight poke in the ribs of " Poss " with the end of the hoe handle through the bars of the box. The creature's keen eyes shot forth an angry glance, and as it uttered a low sound something between a growl and a hiss, raised its peaked muzzle and spread its jaws to their widest possible extent, displaying every one of a row of white sharp-pointed teeth. The effect was so ludicrous, that the girls were surprised into a burst of merry laughter. " Well done, Poss ! cried Uncle Tom. " Now UNCLE TOM'S FREEDOM. 23 that's what I call perlite, to do as you're bid when the ladies wanted to see you laugh. I'll eat you all the better for making yourself so agreeable." " Eat your pet ? " said Constance, shrinking back. "Pet, indeed!" replied Uncle Tom. "Don't catch me makin' a pet out o' a 'possum. No, indeed ! Miss Constance. I'll have him for dinner to-morrow. Why, he's jest as nice as any young pig, 'specially when he's set with sweet potatoes all round him in the dish. I only wish 'twas fitten for me to ask such quality as you young ladies to come and taste him. " But now, he's got a heap more sense in that 'ere ugly noddle o' his'n than you'd think. ISTow last night, Teucer and me was up near the mountain, and we see him and a raccoon holdin' of a congress up 'pon top o' the fence. Teucer, he crep up close to 'em to hear the 'scussion. Says Poss to Coon, c Look 'e here, narrow-face, you jes keep off that 'ere dog, and I'll help, when help's a wantin' ! ' So Coon, he fights off the dog, and Poss, he lays down, and pretends to be dead or 'sleep. ' Look 'e here, Poss,' says Coon, ' why don't you help ? ' 4 Can't ! ' says Poss, l I'm too full o' laugh ! > and he grinned jes like you see him now. So it's him that's caught, 'cause he warn't willin' to help a fellow-creetur in need," moralized Uncle Tom. " But now, young ladies, thar's some things to be b'lieved only in part and thar's some things is to be b'lieved intirely. And when I go to git that mizzle- toe off the great oak tree in the Tarleton wood " " Yes, Uncle Tom," interrupted Constance rather hurriedly, " we shall be much obliged ; and if you 24 HOME AND THE WOULD. would please bring us some of the laurel too, and some " " Yes, yes, Miss Constance, certainly I will, and as I was a saying, when I go to the Tarleton wood " " It's all over with us, my dear ! " said Constance in a low voice to her friend, who was listening with so much interest that Uncle Tom addressed his re- marks entirely to her, though they seemed to have been intended for Constance. "Now, heaven save the mark ! " she continued. " Draw your fur more closely around you, for you will find it a comfort before we get back to the house." " But may be, Miss Evelyn, you don't know the reason that 'ere wood is called the Tarleton wood ? Well," receiving an answer in the negative to his in- terrogation, " it's a long, long tune since my ole, ole master, your great grand'pa, Miss Constance, was a settin' one day at the house, me and my master, his son, was young then, and my master was gone away to be a colonel. " And so, ole master, he see Tarleton and his troop o' red coats a comin' up to the house. He warn't afeard o' nothin', ole master warn't, ' For,' says he, 4 I'm too old a man now for them to want any thing with me, and I've seen too many Ingins to be 'fraid o' red coats.' " So Tarleton comes up, and says, l Sir,' says he to ole master, c you'll order breakfast directly for me and my troop.' " * Certainly,' says ole master, ' Tom, you tell 'em to git all that's wantin'.' UNCLE TOM'S FREEDOM. 25 " So all hands turned out, and Tarleton and his officers they come in the house, and they waited and waited, but no breakfast come. " 4 What's the reason we don't have breakfast, sir ? ' says Tarleton, in a passion. " l See for yourself, sir ! ' says ole master. And Tarleton went to the door, and see his troop at the kitchen a snatchin' and a pullin' every thing, so as not a mouthful could git to the house. So he went out, and laid on 'em right and left, and cussed 'em up and down, and got his breakfast, and rode off." " Well," said Evelyn, beginning to sympathize in the apprehension of Constance as to the duration of the story, " but this does not explain the reason why the Tarleton wood received the name of the British commander." " Yes, yes, Miss Evelyn, I'll come to that presently. Well, as I was a sayin', Tarleton and his troop rode off right through that wood ; and they rode to your great uncle's house, Miss Constance, and Mas' John, your great uncle, was jest a settin' down to breakfast. Mas' John hadn't but one daughter, and a beautiful young lady she was, and she was jes married to a great gentleman, near kin to some lord, t'other side the water. " So says Sam, that waited on 'em, says he to Mas' John, a makin' his best bow, Sam was allays perlite, 1 Master,' says he, * thar's some red coats a comin' up the porch steps ! ' " ' The deuce thar' is ! ' says Mas' John, for he did sometimes swar' jest a very little, when he hadn't time to think. ' Frank ! ' says he to his new son-in- 2 26 HOME AOT> THE WOELD. law, 'save yourself, my boy!' so the young man jumped through the window, and run down the gar- den. But behold ! one o' them red coats jumped through the window arter him, and laughed like 'twas the best joke in the world. " * Hello ! ' says he, 4 stop, cousin Frank,' says he, 4 stop ! 'taint wuth while to run,' says he, c you know I allays could outrun you,' so he caught him afore you could say Jack Robinson." "And what became of the beautiful lady, his bride ? " inquired Evelyn, who found this part of the story better worth her attention than the be- ginning. "Oh, they only made him what they called a prisoner on parrol, or .some such outlandish word. And things got straight again, arter a while, and my master come home ; and right glad I was to see him, for he was allays good to me. When I was a lad he showed me how to read and write a little, and young ladies," here Uncle Tom drew himself up with a con- sequential air, " it's my opinion, that if the colored people had the same importunity of reproving them- selves that the white people have, they would be quite as illiterate." He waited a few minutes to watch the effect of this piece of oratory upon his fair auditors, but seeing nothing more than two pairs of roguish eyes, the rest of the features being quite concealed by the sudden application to them of two white pocket handker- chiefs, again took up the thread of his narrative. " ' Well,' my master says to me one day, 4 Tom,' says he, * wouldn't you like to be free ? ' ' Yes, sir,' UNCLE TOM'S FREEDOM. 27 says I, ' I would that ' (with an emphasis on the word). ' Well,' says my master, c I'll give you and your family your freedom.' " So I was full of it, and I went to tell the good news to my Betty. My Betty allays looked fat and hearty, like she does now, but somehow, she never did make no great hand to work. " So says 1, 4 Betty, master says he's guine to make us free ! ' thinkin' to please her might'ly. " c Humph ! > says she, c and what you guine do then, Tom ? ' " Well, this posed me some, for I hadn't thought much 'bout it. " 4 And what you guine do with me and the chil- lern, Tom ? I hearn say free people has to wuk all day and wuk all night, and don't make nothin' at that. What'll you do for such a big fire as that 'ere, and for them blankets,' (and she showed me a pile Mistis had jes sent her), 'and for your bread and your bacon that comes every day, 'thout you knowin' whar' it comes from, like the Jews had thar' bread and thar' bacon sent to 'em hi the wilder-wess / and your milk and your honey like them too, for thar's your bees in the garden. And your hen-us, and your chaw o' baccur when you want it ? I tell you what, Tom, if you listen to my racket, you'll let free 'lone.' And I did," said Uncle Tom. " Your master then was the grandfather of Con- stance ? " inquired Evelyn. " Yes, Miss Evelyn, and the kind-heartedest and best man that ever lived, though he didn't live half long enough, and he died away from home too. I 28 HOME AND THE WORLD. know'd it, and it was show'd to me in the spirit afore ever the news come," lowering his voice to a solemn and earnest tone that manifested the sincerity of his belief hi the assertion. " Afore ever that bad news come, I had marked down the very day and the hour and the minnit my dear master died, for he was father, and brother, and every thing else to me. I marked it all on the great stone under that big chestnut tree. And his young wife she was a sweet lady stie soon died too, and they both lie side by side yonder," pointing to a distant grove of evergreen trees, " and it well-nigh broke my heart." The old man brushed away a tear with the sleeve of his fustian coat, and without trusting his voice farther, busied himself in preparing to go on his errand for his young mistress. His visible and un- affected sorrow in thus awakening the memories of the past, called forth a sympathetic emotion in his young listeners, and the bright eyes, suffused with tears, glittered like diamonds. With pensive steps they re- traced their way, and had made the entire circuit of the extensive lawn in front of the house before their ever-buoyant spirits had recovered their wonted elasticity. CHAPTER HI. TWO HEROINES. As the reader has been presented very uncere- moniously to two of the most important personages in the list of our dramatis personse, and has seen them only in the unbecoming guise or rather disgmse of comfortable security against the " skyey influences " that might otherwise have " visited " their fair cheeks " too roughly," we shall take the perhaps unwarrant- able liberty of following them to their " bower," as it would have been styled in days of more poetic de- scription than the present. In plain prose, this " bower," for it would have been as needless to pre- pare two as to insist on building two nests for a pair of turtle-doves, was neither more nor less than a neat and comfortable apartment in the more ancient por- tion of the building, and which always seemed to possess a special attraction for the family. This partiality was probably the effect of associa- tion and habit, though there was something attractive in the endless and apparently useless profusion of doors and windows, of corridors and stairways, and in the curiously carved cornices and panelled walls ; the unusual breadth of the panels attesting the gigan- 30 HOME AND THE WORLD. tic size of the primeval trees from which they had been fashioned. The six windows of the " bower " of our " ladyes faire," for it boasted of this rather unusual number, looked out, on three sides, on the prospect which has been already described. Happily the windows did not pretend to the giant proportions of the panels, as in such an event, the soft carpet and glowing fire heaped up on the hearth, and dispensing a comforting warmth and radiance, would not have availed to counteract their influence. But besides that these windows had the advantage of being somewhat smaller than modern taste would sanction, they were sheltered by their pretty curtains of white and rose, daintily assorted in materials and color with the coverings of the delicate toilette tables, in the deco- ration of which the industry and skill of one of the turtles had been exercised to prove her appreciation of the honor done her by her friend in sharing her "bower." The large bed and its snowy pillows attested the same care, by certain "inimitable little borders;" the alabaster vases filled with half-blown roses and ca- mellias, and best of all, a table covered with choice books, on the top of which lay the precious bible and prayer book of every-day use, gave in these distin- guishing features a just idea of the occupants of the room. As we shall not perhaps again enjoy an opportunity of seeing to such singular advantage the inmates of this favored apartment, we shall for once, and once only, play the Asmodeus of Le Sage, though almost TWO HEEOINES. 31 unwilling to confess that we have been guilty of such a clandestine intrusion on their unconscious innocence. But at the moment when the " Boiteux " afforded the revelation, their dinner toilettes were nearly com- pleted, and our young beauties appeared in a costume altogether admissible in a fashionable assembly, ex- cept that a cloud of fleecy tulle had not been added to it. We have only one peculiar privilege, that of seeing in their full luxuriance the rich tresses that fell unconfined over their fair shoulders and arms. As one was seated and the other standing, their re- spective heights cannot well be compared, but a tran- sient glance would have given them nearly the same stature. We have no fancy for heroines who are supposed to derive their charms from their extraordinary al- titude, like those of the old fashioned romances, who seem to have been selected as was the first Israelitish sovereign, for being a head and shoulders taller than other people. We shall content ourselves with saying that neither of ours was below, and not many inches above the height of " the statue that enchants the world." Like that most wonderful of all the glo- rious relics of classic Florence, a symmetry approach- ing perfection diminished the graceful outlines to the eye, and more than ever proved that beauty of person in woman, like that of her mind and heart, depends more upon perfect harmony than upon the predom- inance of any peculiar charm. But let it not be supposed, because our heroines did not exceed the " middle stature, " by which is probably meant that as many are below as above it, 32 HOME AND THE WORLD. that they were specimens of a sort of fade medioc- rity, as the juste milieu is sometimes interpreted. On the contrary, no pains had been spared to develope the excellencies nature had freely bestowed upon both, and the choice between them would seem to depend, as in that of a rose or a violet, a^camellia or a carnation, not so much on their relative merits, as on the taste or the fancy of the connoisseur. The word seem has been purposely introduced, because the reader may perhaps have a preference, and we are unwilling to bias that opinion by any pretension to superior judgment. Neither of them had numbered more than seven- teen summers, not quite the age that Madame de Genlis has indicated as that of the perfection of wo- manly beauty. In few words, Evelyn Walsingham might be pre- sented as was Rose Bradwardine, "with a profusion of hair of paly gold, and a skin as white as the snow of her native mountains." But it would hardly be just to dispose thus summarily of hair that in its silken texture and glossy waves set off to marvellous advan- tage a complexion of as pure and exquisite a hue as that formed from the two competitors in Flora's gar- den, who reconciled their regal aspirations by " reign- ing united " in the cheek of the " fairest British fair.' Her blue eyes mirrored a heart both kind and true, and her complexion might have been imagined an index to her transparent character ; for the slightest emotion sent the mantling blood to her cheek, and often betrayed her inmost thoughts before her lips gave them speech ; yet it would have been a pity to deprive such lips of their office, for " coral and pearls," TWO HEROINES. 33 so often brought up from their ocean depths for a similar comparison, can alone serve to complete our description of them. In its fairness the complexion of Constance equalled that of her friend, but there was a difference in the shade, if what was so fair could be said to have a shade, and the bloom called up in her cheek by their recent healthful exercise resembled the faint carnation that gives to the interior of the conch shell its peculiar beauty. Nature had departed from her usual rules, and in one of those charming freaks in which she de- lights, had traced dark though delicately pencilled brows upon the pure forehead. The tresses that fell in graceful negligence over her snowy shoulders were of that brilliant Titian hue so justly admired, though a shade darker than those which distinguish the favor- ites of the great artist. The color of her eyes remained a mystery, for no one had ever thought of assigning any special color to eyes whose constantly varying expression, now half hidden by the long silken lashes, now sparkling out in laughing brilliancy, changed every moment, as emo- tions of sensibility or playfulness held their alternate sway in her heart. The outline of her chiselled lip would have served a sculptor for a model, if he could have caught it, but at the appearance of any one of the little dimples that lurked in its corners, or a single smile revealing its pearly treasures, he would have thrown down his implements of art in despair of imi- tating any thing so fairy-like and charming. Her small fair hands were dexterously and busily occupied in braiding the golden locks of her compan- 34 HOME AND THE WORLD. ion into the simple but becoming Grecian knot, and she may be pardoned if her attention was not exclu- sively employed by her task. The mirror before which Evelyn was seated gave back the faces and forms of both, and if a complacent glance was now and then bestowed on her portion of so lovely a picture, who could blame her for some consciousness of " self-ap- proving beauty ? " But such glances were only mo- mentary, and her attention was chiefly directed to her pleasing occupation, and to its effect on the fair image of her friend. " What were you thinking of at that moment, Constance ? " inquired Evelyn, as the busy fingers suspended their work, and a glance was directed ex- clusively to the reflection in the mirror of the bright lock held up nearly at arm's length. " I was only thinking," replied Constance, resum- ing the braid, "of a very pretty tableau we could make for one of our Christmas evenings. I should like you to personate Hope, as she is represented in the ' Ode to the Passions,' only that it would be in vain for us to choose the ' sweetest theme,' as you would have to be silent ; the 4 soft responsive voice ' would be out of place, and you would not even have the privilege of the ' enchanting smile,' as any smile, under such circumstances, would have rather a stereo- typed appearance. But you might, with wonderful effect, * wave ' your ' golden hair,' if, in such motion- less pantomime, to wave it would not be inadmissible." "A pretty idea," returned Evelyn, "though it would look rather vain in me to figure alone in the canvas. I would rather, however, have my hair ap- TWO HEROINES. 35 pear in those sentimental 4 waves,' ttfian in the classic ' tangles of Nesera's.' What a droll idea some of those worthy old poets must have entertained of their beau- tiful young damsels ! The ' tangles of Nea3ra's hair ' always gave me a shuddering sensation, for I could not help fancying mine reduced to a deplorable state, and half sacrificed in the operation of restoring it to some degree of order." " I suppose," said Constance, laughing, " that the ' tangles ' were to be ' smoothed ' like 4 the raven down of darkness,' and that they were to c smile ' in com- pany, when the agreeable task was completed. A. propos, I have now nearly finished this part of mine. But what would the venerable poet have thought, if he could have foreseen two saucy girls amusing them- selves at his expense? His daughters, from their frightened expression, in the pictures we see of them, were, as in duty bound, rather more respectful." " Hequiescat in pace! as Dr. Fowler would say, my dear," returned Evelyn, " or as he would probably add, revenons a nos moutons. Let us return to our tableaux ; I think I can devise " But the device, whatever it was, remained untold, for at that moment Evelyn started and clasped her hands, while the blood forsook her cheeks. " My dear child ! " exclaimed Constance, " is it possible I could have hurt you so cruelly ? what is the matter ? " . Evelyn made no reply, but rose hastily and ran to the window, from which she had apparently seen some object of alarm. Constance followed, and for a mo- ment shared her feelings, when she saw Wildair 36 HOME AND THE WOBLD. galloping furiously, with head and tail erect, covered with foam, and the saddle turned on one side, as if he might have thrown his rider and dragged him on the ground with his foot in the stirrup. It was but for a moment, however, that Constance lost her equanimity. " Do not be alarmed, Evelyn," she said. " If you were more with us in the country, you would not attach such vital importance to Wildair's freak. I have more than one assurance that Vivian is safe. In the first place, he never was ' thrown ' either at col- lege or from a horse ; in the next, the idea of a man and a horse entertaining any fears of each other, is one entirely unknown in this region ; and lastly, you may have observed that the bridle is broken, a sure proof that the frolicksome horse was negligently fastened, while his rider was engaged with his gun, or in some other way, and took the opportunity of a scamper on his own account." "Mammy," continued Constance, addressing, by this title, a personage who at that moment entered the room, " have you seen my brother ? " The person to whom this inquiry was addressed, was evidently one of the descendants of Ham ; but as there is every variety of shade even among the in- digenous African races, the complexion of this one was not sable, but of a dark Moorish hue. In stature she was very short, though her well-turned shoulders, a characteristic of her race, relieved this disadvantage. Her snowy muslin apron and collar were well con- trasted with a dark dress, and the dress was not too long to conceal glimpses of a neat stocking, and the TWO HEROINES. 37 whole of a well burnished shoe. Her head was wreathed ct, la Creole, with a Madras handkerchief of delicate but varied colors, arranged with a degree of skill that a Parisian coiffeur might have envied. Her modest but assured demeanor denoted a per- son of no little consequence, for she was one of a long line of " mammys " who had descended in as regular a succession as the Plantagenets or the Tudors. No entreaties would have induced her to take a seat in the presence of her superiors, and she now stood with an air as respectful as if in the presence of royalty, while " the young lady," the visitor of her young mistress, was near her. Perhaps, on occasions of less ceremony, she might not have forgotten that Con- stance was once one of her " babies." "Yes, ma'am," replied Mammy, "I have seen him; he's jes come with a strange gentleman. I heard him. say to Master that he met with the gentle- man down at the public road, and they walked up to the house together, and that was the reason the horse got away. I thought you might be skeered when you saw him running with the saddle on, and I came to tell you." " We were a little frightened, when we first saw him," said Constance, more readily interpreting the word " sheered," than our reader will perhaps be able to do. " But who is the strange gentleman ? Can it be Doctor Fowler ? " she continued, addressing her- self to Evelyn. " Oh no, ma'am ! " exclaimed Mammy, taking the inquiry to herself. "I've seen Doctor Fowler, and the gentleman isn't a bit like him. He's a young t38 HOME AND THE WORLD. gentleman, and a very nice-looking gentleman, and I think I heard Master say he was an English gentle- man, and an officer." "Captain Delamere! I am certain of it!" ex- claimed Evelyn. "How fortunate that he should come at this propitious moment to assist in enliven- ing our circle! Not that it needs more than our noble selves to make it charming, but as your young party is only invited to come the day after to-morrow, we shall have all the more amusement in the interval." " I did not know that you felt so special an interest in Captain Delamere, Evelyn," said Constance, the lurking dimples playing round her lip, and a comic glance beaming from her eye. " I am afraid if Vivian makes such a discovery, he will hardly be able to do the honors with his usual grace. But while we are talking of them, they are probably waiting for us, so we have not time now for farther conjectures." CHAPTER IV. ENGLISH MANNERS. OUR first three chapters have " made to themselves wings," and flown by without giving us time to reflect that we have been entirely occupied with the intro- duction of the lesser lights of Avonmore, while the proprietor himself has not yet taken the position to which he is entitled. A brief space only has elapsed since the occurrence of the few unimportant events that we have recorded, and they have all been embraced within the period of Mr. Melville's morning ride. He would have been somewhat surprised if he had suspected that his name would ever have served " to point a moral, or adorn a tale ; " but a character of real dignity, of earnest conviction, of superior eleva- tion, is as necessary in the construction of a story, as is the firm prop to the delicate tendrils of the sur- rounding plants that enclasp and adorn it. If Mr. Melville had been asked his opinion of the highest qualities requisite "to give assurance of a man," he would have answered, " Truth, Probity, and an earnest and fearless pursuit of the Right ; " and these are precisely the qualities which in himself shone 40 HOME AND THE WORLD. out with such peculiar lustre. But it must not be supposed because the word " earnest " has been twice used in portraying him, that we are about to present a solemn bore, or a pragmatical cynic to our reader. Nothing can be farther from our purpose, for in all the amenities of life, Mr. Melville had succeeded in attaining the right as amiably and as perfectly as he had done in more serious pursuits. He was not a vain man, for he regarded the four cardinal advantages of genius, birth, beauty, and in- herited wealth, as gifts of Divine Providence, for which to be grateful, but of which no one has a right to be vain ; and being content to preserve and develope the ample portion of these gifts bestowed on himself, he was not disposed to be uncharitable or even critical towards any on whom such blessings had been less freely lavished. To these advantages he added some common ones, that is, if common truth, common honesty, and common sense might not perhaps be classed with the most uncommon qualities in the world. As we might have summed up the character of Mr. Melville in a single expressive word, by saying that he was " a gentleman," that of Mrs. Melville may be understood when she is presented as " a gentle- woman ; " an old-fashioned title, but one that has a more exact and extended signification than the modern and elegant one of " lady." Her best traits can hardly be called distinguishing, in an age, and especially in a country where the devoted wife, the watchful and tender mother, the sympathetic friend, the kind mis- tress, form the rule and not the exception. If she ENGLISH MANNERS. 41 was adored by her husband, idolized by her children, loved and trusted by her friends, and venerated by her servants, she saw daily instances around her of the same womanly virtues. And she well knew that whatever influence she possessed was to be ascribed to that pure and unselfish sympathy which is ready at all times to make all sacrifices for the happiness and well-being of others. Her heart was as young and tender as when it was first won, and alike in their joys or their sorrows her children flew to her arms for sympathy when they rejoiced, and for consolation when they wept. They and their young companions regarded her almost as one of themselves, and the Christmas at Avonmore was anticipated by them without any apprehension of surveillance or restraint in their innocent pleasures. Mr. and M*s. Melville were seated in a parlor, the windows of which commanded a view of the extensive lawn in front of the house. One side of it gave en- trance to a conservatory filled with tropical fruit trees and flowering plants which were mingled in pleasing variety, and banished all ideas of winter. But the idea of winter was not unpleasantly recalled by the ample wood fire that sparkled and blazed as if in honor of " merry Christmas." A crimson carpet and curtains completed the comfortable effect of the room, and the open piano with an upright sheet of music on it, the books scattered on the tables, and the tapestry work left rather carelessly on a sofa, showed the favorite parlor. A few choice flowers were carefully assorted in small vases on the tables, and but a few, for Mrs. 42 HOME AND THE WORLD. Melville had restrained the fair pilfering fingers that would have transferred all her pet flowers to them. To compensate for this deficiency, the mirrors and the paintings had been plentifully decorated with wreaths of ivy and laurel, interspersed with branches of arbor vita?, holly and cedar, uniting in pleasing contrast their ornamental berries of blue and scarlet. Mr. Melville was engaged in reading the news- papers just presented him as the result of his messen- ger's daily visit to the post-office, and Mrs. Melville had taken up one of the pieces of tapestry lying on the sofa, apparently with the intention of continuing the buds and blossoms that were glowing with mimic freshness on the canvas, when Vivian entered and pre- sented " Captain Delamere." The handsome young officer paid his compliments with the high-bred air that marks the JEnglish gentle- man, and was received with a cordiality no less pleasing and distinguished ; and as Captain Delamere and her son stood together before her, Mrs. Melville thought, and justly, that it would have been no easy matter to have found two nobler young men. They were both tall and finely formed ; both with the dark blue eyes, the chestnut hair and fair com- plexion that distinguishes the Saxon even when sepa- rated by oceans and generations from the parent stock. But a soldier's life and some seniority of years had given their perfect finish to the form of the officer, while that of Vivian, though manly, lithe, and emi- nently graceful, suggested the idea that a few more years, in giving it more development, would enhance its elegance. ENGLISH MANNERS. 43 The noble turn of the features and their general ef- fect gave them a partial resemblance as seen by a super- ficial observer, but there was a depth of feeling and of latent thought in the eyes of the young student, and a sparkling brilliancy in his smile, that promised still increasing interest when time should fully unfold the treasures of mind and heart they indicated. " We are most happy to welcome you here, Cap- tain Delamere," said Mr. Melville, rising and shaking hands cordially with the young officer. " It gives me sincere pleasure to see that you have not forgotten us, and we esteem it no small compliment that you should come to us at so unpropitious a season." " ' The seasons and their change' are hardly percep- tible here," said Captain Delamere, glancing toward the conservatory, and bowing to Mrs. Melville, who acknowledged the implied courtesy with a smile. " Mrs. Melville and yourself must have certainly found the elixir vitce in some fountain at the base of these mountains. You are both in finer health than when I last met with you." " The elixir vitse which we should interpret as our pure air," said Mrs. Melville, " is heartily at your service, and it gratifies me to perceive that you are already so far recovered from the effects of the illness which you informed us had compelled you to seek a temporary relaxation from your duties in India." " Yes, I am so far recovered," replied Captain Delamere, with a suppressed sigh, " that I have no farther reason for delaying my return. Since I have taken an extended survey of the western continent in my recent tour, I have been tempted to wish that 44 HOME AND THE WORLD. I had selected the Canadian snows rather than the burning suns of the East, as the scene of my exile." " You would not regard it as so good a theatre for the achievement of military glory, I hope," said Mr. Melville, smiling, " as in that case we should ap- prehend some belligerent purposes toward ourselves. But I trust that day is past, not soon to return. We have associations and friendships with the mother country that every visit we exchange serves to renew and strengthen. " It has been some time," continued Mr. Melville, " since I was in England, but I have many reasons for recalling with pleasure the portion of my visit passed at the country seat of one of her noble sons in the vicinity of Exeter. It was on an occasion when I was one of many guests, and having then seen but little of your society, I was naturally disposed to ob- serve its distinguishing features. Conversation, espe- cially at dinner, I remarked, was easy, cheerful, and animated, and I was particularly struck on this, as I have been on other occasions, with the well-bred mod- esty and quiet unobtrusive manners of the Mite of the English nobility." " I should certainly subscribe to the word Mite," said Captain Delamere, " on which I observe you lay a peculiar and significant emphasis." " It might not perhaps be quite consistent with the deference often observed without discrimination toward your nobles to dwell too long on that word," returned Mr. Melville. "But the noblemen present on this occasion were of superior rank, and were all highly intelligent and exceedingly well informed men. ENGLISH MANNERS. 45 And yet they seemed studiously to yield the pas both in conversation and the forms of social observance to their untitled neighbors. In this close contact of the different orders of which English society is composed, I observed that their intercourse was perfectly easy and familiar, and on the part of these noblemen a marked deference and apparent yielding of superiority to those less elevated in the scale of their conven- tional hierarchy." " I can hardly be mistaken in your host, I think," said Captain Delamere. " I have often partaken of his hospitality." " It would then be idle to give my impression of his residence," said Mr. Melville, " but it doubtless gives you pleasure to recall it, and as Mrs. Melville and Vivian have not seen it, you will pardon my en- thusiasm if I recount some of its peculiar charms. The grounds, though simple, I found unsurpassed by any I had seen in England for nobleness and beauty. The house is situated at the base of a very high hill, clothed with magnificent forest trees consisting of beech, oak, chestnut, and various kinds of fir, from among which the undergrowth is entirely removed and replaced with luxuriant grass, while smooth wind- ing roads are constructed along its side in such a way as to afford at almost every step a new and charming point of view. " An extensive park stretches over undulating and sloping grounds in front of the house, dotted over with noble trees, oaks, elms, or cedars of Lebanon, sometimes standing singly, sometimes in groups, and so disposed as to give the highest effect to the natural 46 HOME AND THE WOELD. features of the landscape, a thing which is better un- derstood in England than in any other country in the world." "And the conservatory, and above all the chapel ? " said Mrs. Melville, " for I have always considered that the highest ornament of a noble country seat." " A fine conservatory," replied Mr. Melville, " is embraced within a smoothly shaven lawn, which is separated by a light iron railing from the park. The lawn is adorned with rustic vases of flowers here and there, and several gigantic trees, among them an im- mense tulip tree, presiding with druidical majesty over the scene. On the opposite side of the house is a flower garden arranged with exquisite taste, and is fully seen from the dining room windows which de- scend to the floor. At some distance from the house on the same side, standing on a projection of the hill, is a beautiful chapel built by the proprietor for the use of his own family and that of the tenants and la- borers upon his estate, and near it a school-house built like the chapel in the gothic style, and intended for the children of the neighborhood, over which Lady A ***** exercises a maternal supervision. " All this assemblage of beautiful and noble ob- jects," continued Mr. Melville, "set down in the bosom of a country, which by its variety of hill and dale and its red soil also bears so strong a resemblance to our own, suggested wishes and plans of improve- ment at home, which, though they may never be realized, it was yet pleasing to revolve in my mind while I had so perfect and charming a model before my eyes." ENGLISH MANNEES. 47 Captain Delamere was about to make a compli- mentary remark on the success that had already attended the efforts of his host to emulate so bright an example, when the young ladies made their appear- ance, and his compliments were naturally turned to- wards them. Beaming with youth and health, and fresh from the toilette, it is impossible to imagine two lovelier creatures. Their dress, from a girlish fancy, was the same simple, but arranged with the exquisite neat- ness and taste that always distinguishes the lady in the true sense of the word. A silk dress of the becoming shade of blue, well known as the bleu Louise, was relieved around the open corsage and sleeves by fine Valenciennes lace, and gave a soup^on of the white necks and arms, of which we have elsewhere taken the liberty of a surreptitious description, and which were brilliantly contrasted with the color of the dress. A brooch and bracelet of blue enamel on gold, the only orna- ments they wore, showed by their simplicity that the wearers had no wish " to share with art the triumphs of their eyes." " I have recently had the pleasure of seeing your father, Miss Walsingham," said Captain Delamere, after gracefully paying his compliments to both the young ladies, " and I was very near having the honor of his company as a travelling companion. Mr. Regi- nald Villiers would also have been of our party, but he has rather unexpectedly embarked for Europe." Evelyn returned her thanks for the intelligence, adding that she had recently received a letter from 48 HOME AND THE WORLD. her father, in which these intentions had been men- tioned to her. " Mr. Villiers is then an acquaintance of yours, Captain Delamere ? " inquired Constance. Evelyn smiled. " Constance," she said, " assures me that I have had a romantic dream, of which Regi- nald is the hero, and insists that he is a myth." " My proof of the assertion," replied Constance, " is, that though I have often heard of Mr. Reginald Villiers, I have never seen him, and that I have never seen any one who has seen him. Is not this sufficient to warrant my theory, Captain Delamere ? " " It is fortunate that you have given me a moment to consider my answer to your first inquiry, Miss Melville," said Captain Delamere, " as I am afraid I shall only confirm instead of dissipating your sus- picions. I have the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Villiers only through a friend, but a friend who would soon dispel all your doubts by his enthu- siastic praises of Mr. Villiers." "So far then," said Constance, laughing, "my theory stands unimpeached." "But Reginald is an acquaintance of Mr. Mel- ville," said Evelyn, appealing to Vivian. " I am quite sure I have heard you speak of him." " Certainly," replied Vivian, " I have often heard my college friend, Ainslie, mention him as the best student of the classics he knew." " He was not then your own classmate ? " inquired Captain Delamere. " No, I knew him only by reputation/ But Ainslie refers to him as to an oracle, and pronounces him such ENGLISH MANNERS. 49 a miraculous being, that he may well be mistaken for a myth, in short, a college youth who dares to be singularly good." " No small praise, certainly," said Captain Dela- mere. " But we have not yet refuted Miss Melville's theory. Suppose we were to inquire of Mr. and Mrs. Melville ? " "Willingly," returned Constance, to whom the proposition was addressed. " Mamma, is Mr. Reginald Villiers an acquaintance of yours ? " " No, my dear," replied Mrs. Melville. "A brief but satisfactory reply," said Captain Delamere. " We have now to appeal to Mr. Melville as the only remaining member of our circle, who has not yet been catechized." " I was formerly well acquainted with the family of Mr. Villiers," said Mr. Melville, " but I do not know Reginald. He has grown up since that time, and I am happy to hear so favorable an account of him." " My theory is completely established, as you per- ceive, Evelyn," said Constance. " Now promise me that you will have no more romantic dreams of myth- ical personages." Dinner was at that moment announced, and Cap- tain Delamere offered his arm to Mrs. Melville. Mr. Melville paid the same compliment to Evelyn, and Vivian, after they had passed, making a profound bow to Constance, which was reciprocated by as pro- found a mock courtesy on her side, playfully locked his arm in hers, and followed them. The conversation in so small a party was, of course, 3 50 HOME AND THE WORLD. general, and became more gay and lively as Captain Delamere experienced less and less of the restraint that is inevitably felt on the first introduction to a new scene, and a circle with whom there has not been previously any familiar acquaintance. The meal was half over, when one of the attending servants presented a letter to Mr. Melville. " I thought," he said as he broke the seal, " that I had received ah 1 my missives this morning : but this one, I suppose, is something of special interest. I trust it does not require an immediate answer. If the testy poet were interrupted in the middle of din- ner, I can easily appreciate his exclamation : " ' Heavens ! was I born for nothing but to write ? Has life no joys for me ? Or to be grave, Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save ? ' " This letter, happily," continued Mr. Melville, " does not warn me that I was born for nothing but to write, as it demands no answer at all. It is only a note from Doctor Fowler, saying that, as he is on a visit in the neighborhood, he will come soon to pass a day with us." " Doctor Fowler ? " said Mrs. Melville, very inno- cently and quietly, " why, I thought he was dead." " My dear ! " ejaculated Mr. Melville in a tone of gentle reproach. " It was Mr. Fowle, and not the Doctor, of whom you heard the report, mamma," said Vivian ; and as he spoke he cast a furtive glance at Constance. Con- stance looked slyly at Evelyn, who in turn met a comic look from Captain Delamere. All four pairs ENGLISH MANNEES. 51 of the bright eyes were turned towards Mrs. Mel- ville. But the battery was as unsuccessful as was the bolt of Cupid, when his shaft fell harmless, and " the imperial votress passed on fancy free," for Mrs. Melville was at that moment watching the blue flame that quivered on the top of a remarkably nice plum pudding, and was waiting for the blaze to subside before it should be offered to her guests. She looked up, and instantly comprehending the meaning of the glances directed toward her, joined in the merry laugh raised at her expense. " My dear children ! " she exclaimed, " is it pos- sible you could have supposed that I wish any harm to Doctor Fowler ? I am sure nothing so uncharitable was farther from my intention. It is true we might have had the prospect of a visit that would have given me more pleasure, but the Doctor, as I remem- ber him, is a very learned man, and I dare say, a very respectable person." " Do you think he will stay long, papa ? " inquired Constance, timidly. " I rather hope not," said Mr. Melville in an absent manner, as if he were uttering his own reflections instead of answering the question, and he was in turn forced to join in the merriment on his side of the table. " But the Doctor," he continued, " is really a very learned man, and if he would content himself with showing only his true colors instead of hoisting as many as a pirate sloop when pursued by a frigate, he would still be an interesting man." 52 HOME AND THE WOELD. "What, then, can have metamorphosed him so completely ? " inquired Mrs. Melville, her question threatening to bring the laugh on her again. " In early life," replied Mr. Melville, " he devoted himself to natural science and the ancient classics with eminent success ; but after living some time as a confirmed old bachelor, he took a fancy for a young wife." " And this then is the cause of the metamorphosis," said Evelyn. " We shall have to be very careful lest we captivate old gentlemen, Constance." " Pardon me," said Mr. Melville, gallantly, " there are some young ladies who captivate old gentlemen without such sinister designs or such dangerous con- sequences. But the fair help-meet the Doctor selected was, as you may imagine, not the most eligible choice for him. lie informs me that Mrs. Fowler an,d his daughter, Miss Kezia, will accompany him, so that you will have an opportunity of judging for yourself." " Miss what ! " said Constance and Evelyn in the same breath. " Miss Kezia," said Mr. Melville. " Mrs. Fowler's name is Jemima, but she declared it entirely too old- fashioned for civilized society. The Doctor, with the characteristic admiration of antiquities which at that time distinguished him, pronounced his opinion in > favor of the name of Karen-Happuch for this scion of his house, but contented himself at last with a compromise in the intermediate name of Kezia." " I think from what I have learned, Vivian," said Mrs. Melville, " that you will have to conceal all your recent acquisition of the ancient classics, as the Doc- ENGLISH MANNEKS. 53 tor now dislikes any allusion to them, and affects to despise them in honor of his modern and fashionable wife. He has renounced them, and now confines him- self entirely to the modern tongues, which he heralds forth with surprising flourishes on all relevant and irrelevant occasions. He pretends also to be a- wor- shipper of the fine arts and the graces, and it may be truly said, with regard to his new accomplishments, he understands as much of one as the other. But it is growing dark; shall we 'adjourn our session' to the parlor ? I suppose the gentlemen will not care to banish us on such an unceremonious occasion." The evening flew by merrily and pleasantly ; and Captain Delamere, in answer to his request to be favored with music, heard with no little surprise the union of two voices in the artistic compositions of Italy and Germany, as well as in the plaintive ballads of Ireland and Scotland, that would have been listened to with thrilling delight by the amateurs of a Parisian salon. The day closed with family devotion, which was never, under any pretext, omitted. Happy the do- mestic circle united by this bond of sympathy and love ! Happy those, who daily and nightly, according to an expressive, though quaint and homely phrase, thus " hem the mornings and evenings of the house- hold, and so prevent them from ravelling out." CHAPTER V. MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. THE church bell resounded sweetly through the clear frosty air on Christmas morning, and all hearts were ready to obey the welcome signal. Constance and Evelyn, Vivian and Captain Dela- mere made up apartie carree for the open carriage ; Mr. and Mrs. Melville, with little Alice, more pru- dently sheltered themselves within the family coach. " I hope we are not late," said Mr. Melville, looking at his watch ; " our good pastor is always exact to a minute, and faithful to his motto of ' punctual minis- ters make a punctual congregation.' I wish all our clocks and watches kept time as perfectly as he does." We cannot venture, as a distinguished author has recently done, to give the sermon of this particular occasion, though if we dared to do so, it would be by far the best part of our story. But the discourses of the pastor were the least part of his ministry, and we prefer giving some idea of his character. The beautiful portrait of Goldsmith presents an ideal far more perfect than any our feeble pencil could delineate ; but there were some traits in the modest MODERN" ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 55 excellence of our model which deserve to be recorded. To the excellencies traced by the poet, Mr. Bloom- field added a strength of purpose and an efficiency of action which could be derived alone from the highest source. His anxieties were not for the wealthier portion of his flock, for in their comparatively simple mode of life, they were not exposed to the dangers of either " poverty or riches," the extremes so justly depre- cated by the wise ruler of Israel. It was to the poor, and especially to the young, that his attention was chiefly directed. The children of his flock esteemed it a privilege to receive the instruction so regularly and diligently bestowed, and the poorest African looked up to him as a friend who could point him to the way of life. This humble class, with all the warmth of afiection and Oriental fervor of imagination that so readily lend themselves to the teaching of a superior mind, was his especial care ; and the afternoon of every Sabbath day was scrupulously and regularly devoted to their instruction. He was beloved even by the most thoughtless of the younger part of his flock, for while he warned them faithfully, he indulged in no pragmatical inter- ference where pious parents were competent to direct them. Yet even thoughtless youth had been known to sacrifice the "pernicious weed" and other still more dangerous indulgences when he earnestly repre- sented them as destructive to the over stimulated mind of the student, and adding by needless and un- warrantable expense, a still heavier burthen to some 56 HOME AND THE WOULD. widowed mother who lived in penury to save her scanty pittance for the education of a darling son. In his parochial duties, Mrs. Bloomfield was his best assistant, simply by relieving him of all the cares of his family, which, if they had devolved upon him, would have checked or perhaps destroyed his use- fulness. Her extreme modesty gave her an air of tim- idity that enhanced the interest she inspired when her real merit was known, for it was felt, rather than seen, by its happy results. The small parsonage was, under her guidance, a model of exquisite neatness and comfort. The porches with their sheltering vines, the roses and jasmine that clustered round her doors, embellished the more sub- stantial evidences of her good management as seen in " kitchen, parlor and hall." Her children were dis- tinguished equally by their faultless but scrupulously plain attire and their unobtrusive manners. Every duty of a housewife was at her command, and the snowy linen and bands of the minister were always the work of her own hands. It was even said that her industry supplied the leather gloves with which his hands were protected, when engaged, as was his wont, in the culture of the small garden ; "for those hands," she said, "merited this peculiar care, since they were, literally as well as figuratively, to dispense the bread of life." It was no wonder that such a family should have been equally loved, respected, and sought by all who knew them, and they found a cordial welcome more frequently than they had leisure to avail themselves of it, in every home and in every heart. MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 57 On the return of the family of Avonmore and their visitors from church, Mr. Melville was met on the steps by Johnson, who informed him that in his ab- sence Dr. Fowler and his family had arrived. " You have made them comfortable, I hope,'' said Mr. Melville to him. " Yes, sir ; my mother," for Johnson, though the only son of Mammy, thought it inconsistent with his usual elegant politeness to use the homely appella- tion bestowed on her by the family, "my mother has carried them to their rooms, sir, and I sent for the baggage." " Carried them to their rooms, and sent for the baggage," repeated Vivian apart to Captain Del- amere ; " these words must sound strangely to you, in such use. Perhaps you will feel more inclined to apply the latter word to Miss Kezia, from my father's representation of the paternal." Constance and Evelyn overheard him, and shook their muffs threateningly at him, as they tripped up the steps of the portico and passed on to throw off their hats and furs. When they entered the parlor they were presented by Mr. Melville to the Doctor and his family, who were already there. The Doctor was a tall, gaunt man, with a com- plexion like a winter apple that had been very com- pletely frozen and then very completely thawed again. It was, in short, a miraculous assemblage of wrinkles that clustered around every feature, and especially about his small twinkling gray eyes, where they were magnified into " crows' feet." He wore an auburn wig, which was apparently placed very loosely on his 3* 58 HOME AND THE WORLD. head, for in animated conversation it was often pushed from one side to the other, so as to give no small vari- ety to the depth and expression of his ample forehead. That it was indeed a wig, was put beyond a doubt by small patches of white hairs that seemed to take a malicious pleasure in peeping out, and as it were, re- proaching the hypocrisy of their more youthful and elegant neighbors. But, en revanche, and to please the taste of his younger consort, the Doctor had dyed his whiskers in a color corresponding with the wig, though with so little precaution, that a streak of au- burn was visible on the cheek beneath them, and the operation seemed to have given a tinge, judging from their peculiar color, to the ends of his fingers in performing it. Mrs. Fowler was a fat, jolly woman, short in sta- ture, and with that convenient and nondescript col- oring generally denominated sandy / with hair, eyes, skin, eyebrows and eyelashes so perfectly assorted as to defy the most critical observer to detect a shade of difference. Her hair, which had the very great advantage of remaining young, because gray hairs are as imperceptible in it as in the coveted and admired blonde cendr^e, was arranged, or rather drawn up to the top of her head with fantastic curls in front that looked as if they had been calmed down from a recent fit of insanity by " pouring oil upon the waves." Miss Kezia Fowler was the exact resemblance of her mother, only that in face and stature she was smaller and slighter. It was the difference of looking through the opposite ends of a magnifying glass. They were attired in the same style, in different MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 59 though equally ill assorted colors. A profusion of finery, not over clean, gave them the air of having be stowed an unusual degree of attention to the toilette. A nice observer might have detected some symptoms of either haste or negligence in its completion, unless indeed the oriental hennce tinge of the finger ends might be regarded as unusual attention to it. But this flattering explanation of the- phenomenon was contradicted by dusky stockings, a slip-shod chaus- sure, and the unpardonable inequality of the upper and under skirts of the flimsy fabrics of which both dresses were composed. As Constance and Evelyn entered the room, they exchanged the usual civilities of introduction with the ladies of the Doctor's family, and the Doctor, after bestowing on them several pompous and elaborate bows, turned again to look at a picture that he was contemplating with affected interest. "Di qualo autore e questo quadro? who is the author of this picture ? " said he to Vivian who was standing near him, benignantly translating the question, which he supposed the young student would not otherwise comprehend. " E una copia, Signor," replied Vivian, quietly. The Doctor opened his eyes. " Das Kolorik taugt nichts Ha bisognia di essere inverniciato, the coloring is bad and- it requires var- nishing," again translated the Doctor, with more ami- ability in the explanation than politeness in the crit- icism of a favorite picture of his host. "Pardon me, but I cannot agree with you, Doctor, GO HOME AND THE WOULD. Vedete come 6 finito a maraviglia ! Quanto 6 fresco il colorito ! " added Vivian with animation. " Diavolo ! " muttered the Doctor to himself, uncertain whether to take Vivian's reply in jest or earnest. But the countenance on which he turned his scrutinizing glance remained unmoved. " Sie sprechen ein wenig Deutsch ? you speak a little German, perhaps, also ? " said the Doctor, patron- izingly, but supposing that here he would be secure from the dangers of either rivalry or criticism. " Wenn man langsam spricht, so verslehe ich es ein wenig," said Vivian, smiling. " I shall not trust your wenig," said the surprised Doctor, relapsing into the vernacular, and beginning to fear that there might be some knowledge of art as well as languages in the quiet modest young man whom he had thought to overwhelm with a display of superior modern accomplishments. Mrs. Fowler was engaged with equal success in her department. The Doctor had experienced no difficulty in convincing his fair spouse that she possessed musical talents of the highest excellence, and inspiring her with the firm belief that she might have been a prima donna if her light had not been hidden under a bushel ; for this comparison always occurred to her, when she considered the limited circle to which her genius was confined. Miss Kezia shared these sentiments, but quite as much on her own account as her mother's, having an estimate equally high of her own powers. By degrees she approached the piano, and turned over the music in a manner that plainly indicated her anticipation of MODEEN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 61 a request to display her talent. Politeness demanded the request from Constance, who quietly declined a preliminary song urged by Miss Kezia. " Miss Melville is perhaps out of voice, Kezia," said Mrs. Fowler, rising from her seat, " but I think you have not so good an excuse, since I heard you yester- day practising that last pretty song of yours. Try it, and I will play the accompaniment, and sing it with you." The song, after a few minutes' absence on the part of Miss Kezia, was produced, showing that, like a good soldier, she was always provided with ammunition, and ready to obey the orders of the commander at the slightest signal. Mrs. Fowler seated herself at the piano, and took off her mittens ; then removed several large bracelets from her arms, and next requested Miss Kezia to take especial care of the rings which she removed from her fingers, and which Miss Kezia secured by transferring them to her own. She then laid an embroidered handkerchief, not particularly white, on the piano, with a small smelling-bottle on the top of it, and a fan by the side of both. Taking a box from her pocket, which she said contained the finest lozenges in the world for the preservation of the voice, she requested that one of the gentlemen would have the goodness to provide her with a glass of water, which was placed by the side of her pocket-handkerchief, the box, the fan, and the smelling-bottle. Her preparations thus happily completed, Mrs. Fowler began a voluntary prelude of interminable length, in which syncopes, staccatos and chromatics, 62 HOME AND THE WOULD. adagio, andant6 and brillante were all mingled together in a heterogenous jumble, terminating in a tremendous crash. The intertwining voices that followed in the duo, Malibran would have describe^, as she did on a similar occasion, as the " screams of two tortured cats." During the exhibition, the Doctor had been standing near, keeping time with a sheet of music rolled up, and uttering a soft " ben6 ! " as the voices sunk to a lower cadence, or an encouraging " brava ! " as they rose. Occasionally during the performance he added some notes of his own hi a tenor that had as much connection with the air and the time as " the cat and the fiddle," brought together in so interesting and unex- pected a manner in the ancient nursery rhymes. The song finished, a repetition ensued of the syncop6s, stac- catos and chromatics, the adagio, andant6 and brillante, and a crash, still more tremendous than the first, con- cluded the performance. The announcement of dinner was no small relief, and every body breathed more freely as Mrs. Fowler resumed her rings and bracelets, and returned the pocket-handkerchief, box, fan, and smelling-bottle to her pocket. The exercise of her voice had apparently contrib- uted not a little to her appetite, which did honor to the good cheer of Christmas. Fish, flesh, and fowl, jellies, creams, ices and fruits, all disappeared before her with marvellous celerity, and the Doctor performed his part in a duo on the occasion, with far more effect than in the musical entertainment with which the company had been previously favored. A slight shade was thrown over his enjoyment, MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 63 however complete, by the recollection that he was threatened with a rival in his newly acquired studies and accomplishments. The renowned Doctor Fowler might one day be surpassed by a young man that no- body had yet heard of in the literary or the fashionable world. He could not repress a feeling of dislike to- ward Vivian, and revolved in his mind some projects of retaliation for the ridicule that he began to suspect Vivian of exercising toward him. His plan of attack was formed just as some of the fine white celery, elsewhere commended, was offered to him. Helping himself to a plant of the celery, which was served with the bud and as large a portion of the root as was admissible in its delicate preparation for the table, he held it up, and said to Vivian, " Sabeis a botanica ? do you understand botany ? " "Alguma couza estudeia segundo o metodo de Linneo," replied Vivian, smiling. " Diame a mad ! " exclaimed the Doctor in real en- thusiasm at the discovery of this new accomplishment in his young rival, and seizing Vivian's hand, which he shook with unaffected good nature. " Why, my young friend, is it possible that you understand Span- ish, as well as Italian and German ? you wilf rival me some of these days when you have studied as much. Only let me advise you not to lose too much time with the ancients, as I did." " I shall be most happy to profit of your advice, Doctor," said Vivian, with more respect than he had hitherto manifested, and touched by this unexpected effusion of feeling, " but you must pardon me for dif- fering with you in your opinion of the great masters of 64 HOME AND THE WORLD. antiquity. I have spent too much of my young life in their society, to give them up for their descend- ants." " Perhaps you may be right," said the Doctor, with a sigh of regret to the memory of his old friends and companions ; " but the ladies, sir, the ladies must be pleased, and we must cultivate the moderns in lan- guage and fashions before they can be won. Why, my dear fellow, I should never have been able to win a single smile from Mrs. Fowler without the aid of the fine arts and the modern tongues. Trust me, you will have to modernize your ideas before you can ever hope for success with the fair." The Doctor was interrupted at thjs point, by a group of merry little girls with Alice at their head, who came flying into the dining parlor, and were soon appropriated by the lovers of innocent happy faces around the table. All rational conversation was at an end, and every one joined hi the childish glee that had usurped the reins of speech and action. The company was soon broken up, and they all returned to the parlor. Alice was quickly busied with her little companions around a frolicsome kitten, a Christmas present from " Aunt Betty," and they were all peeping into a small paper box that contained the pretty little ground-squirrel " Uncle Tom " had given her, though, as he remarked at the time, " he knew she would only have the fun of seeing it run away." The little group were consulting together on this interesting topic, and after the important when and where of the squirrel's liberation was decided, Alice placed the box in a corner of the sofa, and with child- MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 65 ish forgetfulness, left it there. She was soon earnestly engaged in tying a string to a bit of brown paper that was intended to represent a mouse. While she was thus occupied, Mrs. Fowler, who had been making a tour of observation, paused on that side of the room, and as she had been looking for the most comfortable place in which to establish herself after a luxurious dinner, selected the squirrel's, instead of the " poet's corner," and without a mo- ment's hesitation, plumped with fatal precision exactly on the paper box. A faint struggle a feeble squeak ensued, and the poor little squirrel was no more ! "Oh my squirrel! my squirrel!" exclaimed Alice. "Ma'am, you sat down on my poor little squirrel ! Indeed you did ! " argued Alice, as Mrs. Fowler seemed quite unwilling to vacate her well- chosen seat for so trifling a cause. But Alice and her young companions pulled at her dress with so little ceremony, that she was compelled to yield to their united entreaties. Her tardy compliance came too late, the squirrel was quite gone. " What made him die ? " said poor little Alice, her rosy lip quivering, and her blue eyes filling with large tears that began to roll over her cheeks as the lifeless favorite was taken out of the box. " He died a natural death, the most natural death in the world, my dear," said the Doctor, " as you perceive that Mrs. Fowler sat down upon him. This squirrel," continued the Doctor, holding him up by the tail, while Alice gave a faint shriek and hid her face in her mother's lap, " this squirrel is un- doubtedly the true sciurus striatus, though Buflbn, 66 HOME AND THE WORLD. in his ' Animaux deg6ner6s,' might perhaps class him with the rat of Madagascar." " It isrtt a rat ! " exclaimed Alice indignantly, raising her head, and shaking back the golden ring- lets that fell in a shower round her glowing cheeks. Constance, whose warm and tender heart sym- pathized in the "first grief" of her sister, and in the indignation she felt at such cool contempt of her childish sorrow, was about to relieve the Doctor's hand of the unfortunate squirrel, when she suddenly changed her mind, and softly and quietly resumed her seat, hoping that she perceived an avenger of his wrongs advancing. She was not mistaken. The kitten, which had been watching the Doctor's movements with a natural interest and curiosity, seemed to have made up her mind that Bufibn's theory of Animaux degmires was correct, and that the Doctor was holding up to her view a rat of Madagascar, or a rat of Avonmore, which suited her taste and science quite as well. She had climbed up with cat-like caution on the back of the Doctor's chair, and seizing, as she thought, a pro- pitious moment, made a spring to reach the squirrel. A sudden movement of surprise on the Doctor's side defeated her purpose, and to save herself from a fall, she fastened her sharp claws in the back of his auburn wig ; her weight, slight as it was, sufficed to displace it completely, and she fell to the ground with her un- expected prey, leaving the Doctor's shining crown perfectly revealed. It was now Mrs. Fowler's turn to shriek, and her first impulse was to fly as fast as her corpulency would MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 67 allow to the rescue of the deposed wig; but the kitten had so completely entangled her claws in the tresses, that kitten, wig and all disappeared in a twinkling beneath a piece of furniture in the farthest corner of the room, leaving only an auburn lock and the end of her tail visible. Mrs. Fowler was compelled to resort to the em- broidered pocket-handkerchief, which she threw over the Doctor's bald head with a faint attempt to treat the matter as a joke ; but both were glad to escape from the room until the mischief could be repaired. After much coaxing, puss was prevailed upon to relin- quish the wig, with which Miss Kezia also retired. Little Alice was consoled by a promise from mammy to have the squirrel decently interred, and by another promise from Constance to write an epitaph upon it. Her grief was soon forgotten in the glories of the Christmas tree, and in the sweet interchange of love and love's gifts between her and her little friends. After such a discomfiture, the Doctor seemed un- willing to prolong his stay, and his carriage was ordered for the next morning. When the hour of departure arrived, Mr. Melville and Vivian attended him and his family to the door, and Vivian assisted the Doctor as well as the ladies into the carriage. The Doctor shook his hand warmly. " I shall hope for your promised visit, my young friend," he said. " Beware of the ancients, and come and see me. Guardi bene di non mancare. Bos Dias ! " " Nol dimentichero, vosso humilde criado ! " re- turned Vivian, with a bow and smile, waving his hand as the carriage drove off. CHAPTER YI. A CHRISTMAS PAETY. THE departure of Dr. Fowler and his family gave no small relief to the younger members of the circle at Avonmore, for they were in hourly anticipation of the arrival of the friends they had invited to partici- pate in the festivities of the happy season. Their preparations for the comfort of their young guests were completed, the only preparations required, for the joyous springtide of early life alone suffices to float the pinnace on the dancing billows, and its white sails need not even a freshening breeze, when it is freighted with mirth and music and love. The house was soon filled, for party after party drove up after the Doctor took his leave, and all was welcome, congratulation, and joy. It is often remarked by strangers who visit our shores, that in an assemblage of young girls on this side of the water, "ten out of every dozen are pretty," and it may be added, that in such a number one or more would be pronounced beautiful by the severest critic. On the present occasion there was certainly no departure from the rule ; and arrayed in their gay and A CHRISTMAS PARTY. 69 elegant attire, tastefully adapted to the season, their smiling faces brilliant with life and hope, these fail- ones were all so charming, that a parterre of the sweetest and loveliest flowers of every variety would offer a comparison too tame to give a just idea of the group. They had all exercised some influence in the selec- tion of the young cavaliers who favored the party with their presence, as a council had been previously held for the purpose, and a correspondence as intri- cate as that which history attributes to the cabal of Charles the Second and the ministers of Louis Quatorze, though less diplomatic and certainly far more innocent, had been diligently carried on for several weeks among the members of the council on this important subject. We shall not attempt a detailed account of the amusements or the conversation of several consecutive days that flew by as " on a dove's wing, unsoiled and swift, and of a silken sound." It must not be supposed from the merriment with which the old halls resounded, that it might be said of our young party in the words of the Vicar of Wakefield, and rather malicious words for so amiable a personage, that " what was wanting in wit was made up in laughter." On the contrary, if there was much laughter, there was wit to draw it forth, and the lively sally was always promptly met by the brilliant repartee. Music was a never-failing resource, and there were some of this happy band who, as we have already 70 HOME AND THE WOKLD. affirmed, might have done honor by their superior talent to any society or to any salon. The long evenings were the favorite time for their gayer amusements, and tableaux vivants, charades and dialogues afforded a never-failing variety. But the latter, as they imagined, required more time and re- flection in their composition and arrangement than they had leisure or patience to bestow on them, and a deputation was despatched to Mrs. Melville to put her ingenuity in requisition for the task of preparation. She was soon completely surrounded. Two of the deputies seated themselves on footstools before her, two were at the back of her chair, and she was im- prisoned on either side. The seige was so regularly conducted, that a capitulation was inevitable. " You have all more wit for the task you impose upon me than I possess," said Mrs. Melville, " for there is far more histrionic talent in your party than you imagine, though it has, perhaps, never been developed. Any one of you could contrive the outline of a dia- logue that would serve to amuse you for half the evening, if filled up by good improvisation, such, as I am sure, there is genius enough assembled here to supply. " Suppose, for example, we were to fancy a very pompous old gentleman as guardian to a beautiful young heiress ; her wealth entirely under his control, unless he forfeits his guardianship by making love to her. She is living with an old maiden aunt, who is jealous of the charms of her lovely niece, and has, moreover, rather a penchant for the* old guardian. The beautiful young heiress, of course, has a charm- A CHRISTMAS PARTY. 71 ing young lover, and the old maiden aunt, of course, has a pert little waiting woman. The young lover naturally has one friend, and the young heiress has two. These will be quite enough for your dramatis persome. Now let us imagine how they are to de- velop the story in the dialogues. " The young lover and his friend may first appear, and give some explanation of the relations between the guardian and the heiress. This is quickly done, as the friend knows ah 1 about the conditions of the guardianship. They retire, and the old maiden aunt enters and seats herself by the table on which her niece has left her books and work-bag. The old lady makes disparaging remarks on her niece and her various accomplishments, contrasting them with her own superior merits. In pulling a piece of embroidery from the work-bag, a letter drops out. She seizes it, and discovers, as may be supposed, that it is from the lover. She makes many threats to break up such a correspondence, but replaces the letter. " At this point the lovely niece enters. The old lady ingeniously makes mischief by false represen- tations of remarks made of the young lady by her lover, and departs triumphantly, leaving her niece in despair with her face hid in her hands and her elbows on the table. " In this attitude of despondency the lover finds her as he enters. He lays an officer's hat and sword on another table, and approaches. Of course, a lover's quarrel ensues, but is speedily followed by explana- tions and a reconciliation, in token of which the lover may presume to kiss the hand of the heiress. 72 HOME AND THE WORLD. " Their very interesting conversation is interrupted by the little waiting-maid, who rushes in, and in great agitation, and with many appropriate malapropisms announces as a visitor no other than the pompous old guardian. Escape is impossible, and the lover, after some preliminary remarks, is advised by the little waiting-maid to 'congeal himself behind the sofy,' and not to ' absquatulate ' until she gives the signal. " The guardian, after some premonitory raps with his gold-headed cane at the door, enters, grand, pompous, and profuse in old-fashioned compliments to his beautiful ward. " The little waiting-maid tries in vain to persuade him that his visit was intended for the aunt, who is gone out, and she manifests great uneasiness at the position of affairs. The old guardian magnificently attends " Mrs. Abigail " to the door and turns her out. In departing, she threatens, aside, to go and bring the two young ladies, the friends of the heiress, to break up this ' nice reference? " Meantime the guardian seats himself near his lovely ward. She recedes. He edges a little nearer. She recedes again. He reproaches her coolness, and ends with a flourishing declaration of love, which ter- minates in his falling stiffly on both knees before her. "At this interesting juncture the little waiting- maid appears, accompanied by the two friends of her young lady. The guardian, with some difficulty, rises from his kneeling posture, with the aid of the sofa on which he had been previously seated. " The two friends of the heiress are saucy girls, who pretend to take no notice of the guardian, while A CHEISTMAS PARTY. 73 they fly up to his ward, embrace her with a profusion of pretty compliments, and converse on the subject of a charming concert at Mrs. SingwelVs. They give a specimen of the music, by singing one of the airs of the proposed concert, en duo. The old guardian, in the mean time, is swelling with suppressed anger, which manifests itself in a haughty and sarcastic reply to a remark made to him by one of the friends, who banters him about the maiden aunt. " Here the young lover sneezes, behind the sofa. Every body starts. The waiting-maid runs forward to explain that ' it was the cat that sneezed.' The heiress and her friends affect to be of the same opin- ion, and all call eagerly upon puss, who is supposed to be under the sofa. But the guardian is indignant at the attempted imposition, mimics them, and at the same moment spies out the officer's hat and sword, and inquires if the cat had worn those articles and left them there ? One of the girls immediately un- dertakes to convince him that the officer's hat is a new-fashioned flower-pot she had just sent her friend, and the other, holding the sword upright hi the hat, insists that it is only a prop for the flowers to grow upon. " The guardian represses his rage, but, fearing to lose his dignity by a refutation of such absurdities, flies to the fire and begins to stir it furiously. The girls and his ward surround him, entreating him to ' be calm ' ' composed ' ' not to lose his temper.' " He then loses all patience ; freely bestows the epithets of ' mischievous ! ' ' good-for-nothing ! ' ' baggages ! ' and at every expletive gives a flourish 4 74 HOME AND THE WORLD. of the tongs around their heads. At length, he brings the tongs so nearly in contact with the head of his fair ward, that the lover flies from his hiding-place and arrests the guardian's arm. " The guardian, still panting with rage, wishes to know c to what fortunate circumstance they are in- debted for the honor of the lover's company ? ' " Explanations ensue. The lover's friend and the old aunt enter. The guardian is convicted of having made love to his ward, by which he forfeits all control over her and her estates. The heiress offers her aunt a noble dowry, and presents the hand of the aunt to the guardian, who, with this inducement, gallantly accepts it. The lover is, of course, made happy, and the piece is concluded." " Capital ! " exclaimed the deputies all together. " But how are we to dispose of the characters in the piece ? " " Constance shall be the lovely heiress ! " was the unanimous sentiment. " I think I should succeed better as the old aunt," said Constance, " if you will allow me to choose my part." " I enter my protest against any such arrange- ment," said Captain Delamere. "Then Miss Walsingham will perhaps take the young heiress, and you will be the lover, Captain Delamere," said one of the deputies. " The officer's hat and sword point plainly to you." A shade passed over Captain Delamere's handsome face. " You must pardon me," he said ; " I cannot venture to represent such sentiments. A soldier and A CHBISTMAS PARTY. 75 a wanderer as I am, I must be doomed to single- blessedness. c O what have I to do with love ! ' " he added more gayly. " I should prefer the part of the lover's friend." " "Why should not Vivian take the lover's part, then?" said Constance with an arch glance at her brother ; " and I will represent one of the friends of the young heiress. I think I have a song that can be introduced with charming effect, as the one to be pro- duced at Mrs. Singwell's concert. Anna, you will take the other, will you not ? that arrangement will suit exactly." The proposition was received with acclamation, and so far the characters of the piece were dis- posed of. "But you have not yet decided on the most important personage of all," said Mrs. Melville; . " who is to represent the guardian, the hero of the piece ? " All eyes were immediately turned toward Mr. Melville. He was deeply engaged in reading a philo- sophical pamphlet he had that morning received by the post, and marking with his pencil the most strik- ing passages, entirely abstracted from the mingled voices and merry laughter that surrounded him. As quick as thought he was surrounded by the deputies, who alighted around him like a flock of wild pigeons, at his feet, at the back of his large easy chair, and one perched on each of its arms. " My dear Mr. Melville ! my dear uncle ! we have a request, a very particular request, indeed, to make ; a favor to ask ! " 76 HOME AND THE WORLD. " Ladies, I surrender at discretion," said Mr. Mel- ville, putting down his pamphlet. " Pray what would you have ? " he added, bestowing a gentle pat of en- couragement on the shining heads below him, while he received in turn an encouraging kiss on each cheek from the pretty nieces perched on the arms of his chair. " Why nothing in the world," said Anna, explain- ing the story which Mr. Melville had lost while ab- sorbed in his pamphlet, " but that you will take the part of the guardian in our piece. Nobody can do it so well." " My dear children," said Mr. Melville, " how can you ask me to do any thing so absurd and undig- nified ? Vivian will do quite as well if you will only put a wig upon him." " But Vivian has his part," expostulated Anna. "And nobody can be the guardian but your own< dear self." " Because you think I am old, and cross, and stiff, and pompous, eh ? " said Mr. Melville. *' Well, I consent to sacrifice my dignity at the shrine of Momus for once, but on one condition," he added, with a sly glance at Mrs. Melville. " Any conditions shall be fulfilled. I promise that without scruple," said Anna. " Then the condition I exact is, that Mrs. Melville shall take the part of the old maiden aunt. The story, as I understand it, ends by her union in the bands of Hymen with the old guardian ; so the part will be particularly appropriate for her. On these terms alone, I give my consent to the arrangement." A CHEISTMAS PARTY. 77 Mrs. Melville in vain protested against the pro- ceeding. She found that she had been caught in a net of lier own weaving, and the meshes were so dexterously entwined about her, that a fly might have made its escape more easily from a spider's web. She yielded with a good grace, the more read- ily, because it gave her no trouble to personate an ideal of her own creation. The rehearsal was next to be arranged. " Miss Walsingham, we will resign this parlor to you and your cavalier," said Anna. " The rest of us can prepare our parts separately, until your interview with your guardian." And they all departed, leaving Vivian and Evelyn alone. Evelyn sat for some minutes with her eyes turned on the paper on which her portion of the dialogue was written. Vivian held that which Anna had given him in his hand. His thoughts seemed far, very far from it. As he approached her, Evelyn's transparent cheek gradually assumed the deepening tinge of rose that diffuses itself at sunrise over the Alpine snow. She raised her blue eyes, and they met his. Oh what a world of love was in the depths of those eyes ! But the mischievous Anna closed the door at that very moment, and it is impossible to say what was the actual result of the interview. When* it was again opened, Vivian was, according to his part of the pro- gramme, kissing the white hand Evelyn had aban- doned to him, as her part required, in token of recon- ciliation after the lovers' quarrel in the piece. CHAPTER VH. A SHADE ON THE PICTUBE. A HIATUS must be imagined between the present chapter and our last, simply because the termination of any social reunion is never so agreeable as its beginning or its progress. We will therefore pass over the many affectionate adieus, and often exacted and repeated promises of the young friends to con- tinue an interchange of visits and correspondence. Mr. Walsingham, whose visit, as Captain Dela- mere had explained to Evelyn, had been unexpect- edly delayed, arrived on the last day of the festival, and was welcomed with enthusiasm by the family as well as his lovely daughter. The intimate acquaintance and perfect confidence established between Mr. Walsingham and Mr. Mel- ville needed no more substantial proof than the Christmas visit of Evelyn to Avonmore, for she was her father's darling, and the pride and delight of his existence. A similarity of tastes, and still more of feeling, united the two friends more closely. Both had seen much of the world, yet neither was worldly. They had only profited by their superior advantages to com- A SHADE ON THE PICTURE. 79 pare men and manners, to enlarge their sphere of action and of usefulness, and had learned to look indulgently on the narrow-mindedness of those who had been less favored than themselves, and whose oblique vision could be made to look only in one direction. They were equally indulgent in all the charities and amenities of life ; and when his intercourse with the world brought him in contact with pompous arro- gance or finical affectation, and even when all the bounds of good manners and good taste were ex- ceeded in his presence, Mr. Walsingham was heard quietly to observe, " the man acted according to his light, he knew no better." In his dignified and ele- gant, but modest deportment, such persons would hardly have recognized a man who had been distin- guished at the brilliant court of the first Napoleon, and received as an equal by the nobility of England. Like Mr. Melville, Mr. Walsingham could not only forgive the playfulness of light-hearted youth, but encourage it by his presence ; and far from exer- cising any restraint over the young party, he had been an amused spectator of their innocent gayety. " I regret," he said to Mrs. Melville, when taking his leave, " that I came so late, and must depart so soon ; but I was delayed by unforeseen events, and I must redeem my promise to Evelyn to show her something of the " sunny South " at a season when the rigors of a northern clime render our own home less attractive. I remember well my enjoyment, on a former occasion, of the verdure of spring in the midst of magnolias and evergreen oaks, when I had left all at home covered with snow. You have the 80 HOME AND THE WOELD. advantage of a shorter season of winter here, but the South, as we understand it, lies far beyond you." " Your visit to us," said Mrs. Melville, " recalls the recollection of the regrets with which the reign of Henri Quatre, ' Qui commengait trop tard et trop tot terminait,' was commemorated. But we hope that as it termi- nates under happier auspices than those which at- tended the French monarch, it will be renewed as soon as our spring returns." Captain Delamere took his leave at the same time. His fine eyes glistened with sensibility as he paid his parting compliments, and though his words were few, they expressed with sincere and cordial feeling his gratification at the warm and hospitable reception he had met with at Avonmore. After the revelation at the conclusion of the last chapter, our reader will not be surprised to learn that a short time only elapsed before Vivian dis- covered some weighty reason for following the same route that our travellers were pursuing, and the household of Avonmore was thus reduced to smaller dimensions than usual. Mrs. Melville felt some solicitude, lest the calm that so suddenly succeeded the merry days passed with her young friends should exercise a depressing influence on the spirits of Constance. " I can easily divine your thoughts, dear mamma," said Constance one morning, when, in spite of the coldness of the day, a bright sunshine had tempted them to a rapid walk around the lawn. " I have seen A SHADE ON THE PICTUBE. 81 you watching me with the tenderest solicitude ever since my young friends left me. You think I miss them, and I confess I do. But as much as I love them and enjoy their society, I know that they are all going back to happy homes, and we hope to meet again before very long, so that there is nothing to grieve any of us." " You are a sweet child," said Mrs. Melville, sur- prised into an expression that might have awakened some little feeling of vanity in her lovely daughter, " and your philosophical view of your past happiness and present limited enjoyments relieves the solicitude I really felt, and which you detected. Can you then be quite happy alone with me ? " " Happy ! " replied Constance, laughing, " why, my dear mamma, I really think I am happier when alone with you than at any other time. You may not think it very flattering to your superior wisdom and experience, but I find nobody who sympathizes in all my thoughts and feelings as you do, and there is no one with whom I can converse so pleasantly." " On the contrary, I am more flattered by your preference for my society than by any compliment the world could pay me," said Mrs. Melville, tenderly pressing the arm that was linked in hers. " I am most happy in the hope that you will always look upon me as a friend and companion." " Of that you may be assured, dearest mother," replied Constance. " If I should ever have the mis- fortune to get into any difficulties, you may be certain that you will be my first confidante and adviser." " Then I do not apprehend any difficulties," said 4* 82 HOME AND THE WOELD. Mrs. Melville, " for such a resolution is the best way to avoid them. The misfortunes of young people chiefly arise from a want of confidence in those who could be their best counsellors. People, as they begin to grow old, look with coldness on the enthu- siasm of youth, or feel unwilling to allow any thing for their inexperience. Their anxiety to see their children all perfection leads them to be severe and censorious ; a habit of sharp rebuke and cutting re- partee is gradually formed, when gentleness and courtesy on both sides can alone bind those hearts together that, under other influences, are daily be- coming more and more estranged." " I cannot complain that this has been my lot," said Constance, looking up at her loved companion with a smile of confidence and affection. " You have al- ways been tender and indulgent to me." " Not always when you were a mischievous little fairy," said her mother smiling in turn. " You have forgotten how severely I lectured you for sometimes playing the enfant terrible. And do you remember how I remonstrated with you one day when you in- vited a bashful young gentleman and an equally bashful young lady, who it was thought had rather a penchant for each other, to go into the parlor, telling the gentleman that papa wished to speak with him, and the lady that mamma desired an interview with her ; and when in some agitation and wondering what this strange summons from so grave a quarter could mean, they met at the appointed hour, you shut the door on them, and ran away, calling the jest &poisson cfravril. A SHADE ON THE PICTURE. 83 "And at another time, you determined to punish a lady of our acquaintance who had a particularly acute sense of hearing, so acute indeed, that you al- ways said she heard more than any body else. When a young gentleman who was not previously acquainted with this lady, had a message from one of her friends to deliver to her, you informed him very demurely that the lady was extremely deaf, that he would have to approach her very near, and speak as loud as pos- sible to make her hear. And as this voice of thunder was poured into her sensitive ear like a broadside, with what apparent terror she started from her seat, to the infinite amusement of a room full of young people, with whom she was not at all a favorite ? Do you remember these and similar offences, for which I used to lecture you ? " "But, mamma," said Constance deprecatingly, though she could not help laughing at the recollec- tion of the consternation her childish propensities had created, " you know I was then very young ; but I confess you were right to put an end to such pranks, as they involved an aberration from the truth." " You are older and wiser now, my daughter," said Mrs. Melville, " and there is no danger of lec- tures from me on any subject. But you will often have need of advice, and you may profit of my ex- perience before you acquire your own. But there is Mammy waiting to speak to us. I hope Henny is better to-day, is she not ? " said Mrs. Melville. " No ma'am," replied Mammy, " I'm afraid not, and she asked me just now if you would be so good as to come and see her." 84 HOME AND THE WORLD. Henny was the only surviving daughter of Mam- my, and was naturally regarded by her mother and the family with peculiar interest, as her successor in due time to the honors of her position. She would have been eminently worthy of the trust, for she possessed an unusual degree of intelli- gence, united with a gentle and docile temper, and had eagerly profited by the advice and the teaching she had received. She was about the age of Con- stance, and had availed herself of the childish lessons of her young mistress to accomplish herself in read- ing. Mrs. Melville had made this discovery on one occasion when she was ill, and the little handmaiden, in a soft and musical voice, read a chapter in the Bible, having first modestly asked her permission. This heightened the interest already felt in her, and the child had grown up into a girl of sound principles, good dispositions, and deep religious impressions. Mrs. Melville saw with concern that her health was gradually declining under the influence of a slow but fatal malady that had caused the early death of her father. For two years she had been watched over and attended with all the care that the best medical aid and ceaseless kindness could afford. But all seemed unavailing, and she had been for some months unable to leave her mother's cottage. Mrs. Melville immediately granted her request, and accompanied by Constance, she followed Mammy to her daughter's bedside. Poor Henny was lying very quietly as if asleep, and looked up feebly as Mrs. Melville and Constance approached. A ray of pleasure played on her dark face. A SHADE ON THE PICTTJEE. 85 " It is very kind of you, ma'am, to come so soon, whenever I send to ask you," she said, " and Miss Constance too. I like might'ly to see you both." " Certainly we will come whenever you ask to see us, Henny ; but you are better to-day I hope ; you seem very quiet." " No, ma'am, I am no better," she replied. " I shall not be any better until I go home. But I am ready now when my Saviour calls, and I feel as if he would call me very soon." " Is there any thing you would like that we can do for you ? " said Mrs. Melville. Henny waited a moment and then said, "Yes, ma'am, I should like to see Miss Alice once more." Little Alice soon came, and the poor girl looked fixedly at her for some minutes. " She looks like the angels I see in my dreams ma'am," she said, and she kissed the little hand freely extended to her. " My dreams are a great comfort to me," she continued, still addressing herself to Mrs. Melville. " I often see angels all in white with shining wings and golden crowns, and sometimes I see you among them. Last night I saw you as plainly as I see you now, and you were among those angels, and in a white shining garment, as they were." Mrs. Melville could not trust her voice to speak for some moments. She then asked if Henny had any other request to make. " Yes, ma'am, I should like to hear Miss Con- stance sing once more one of those sweet hymns you taught me when I was a little child in the Sunday school." 86 HOME AND THE WOULD. The request was willingly complied with, and Henny said she had only one more wish, that Mrs. Melville would read the verses beginning with " Let not your heart be troubled." Ah, how many thorns have been removed from the pillow of the departing pilgrim of life's journey by those heavenly words ! Mr. Bloomfield readily came at Mrs. Melville's re- quest to visit his humble parishioner. " I have never," he said, " seen the evidences of a brighter and purer faith than are manifested in this poor girl. The ' wise and noble ' might learn a lesson of true wisdom in her perfect and childlike confidence, and in the resignation and even the joy she expresses in the hope of entering into her rest." Poor Henny died that night, and the family fol- lowed her to her last resting-place at the cemetery in the grove of evergreen trees. Many tears were shed over her early grave, and her mother was regarded with more kindness than ever, in consequence of the sympathy her affliction elicited. CHAPTER Vin. A BRIDAL. SPRING had returned ; the balmy season that poets love to sing and artists to paint ; when nature puts on her freshest " robe of universal green," and new health and life are awakened by the " vernal airs breathing the smell of field and grove." Happily there are some " flowers of paradise " yet unsung, for every clime has its peculiar graces at this fairest portion of the varied year. One of our own authors has justly and beautifully said that " while every insignificant hill and turbid stream of classic Europe have been hallowed by the visitations of the muse, and contemplated with fond enthusiasm, our lofty mountains and noble rivers raise their majestic heads and roll their waters unheeded, because un- sung." Our humble muse dares not attempt a range so extended, and would shrink from themes of such grandeur and magnificence. A scene of quiet loveliness is all that her unaspiring song would com- memorate. The same author mentions a peculiar feature of our grand indigenous forests, in a huge vine that had 88 HOME AND THE WOELD. enclasped an oak, and entwined itself around the stately tree so completely that it might have been imagined " The Lion of trees, perishing in the em- braces of a vegetable Boa." This had not been the fate of any of the fine old oaks that composed the Tarleton wood at Avonmore, and whose giant arms, as we last saw them, were stretching out in bold relief against the wintry sky. They were now in all the pride of spring, and waving in graceful foliage. The vines had happily indulged in a salutary caprice in their attachments, and had clambered from tree to tree, forming festoons and draperies and leafy canopies, in every direction ; and the air was laden with the rich perfume that exhaled from their tender blossoms. The velvet green of the lawn was relieved by the " pendant shades " of the trees on either side of it ; and the clustering flowers of the acacia, the chestnut, the catalpa, and the tulip tree, added the charm of renewed youth and beauty to their proud strength. Flowers of all hues, roses with and "without the the thorn, " were scattered in profuse luxuriance on every side, and one, hardly known to fame, hung its long emerald wreaths studded with bells " blooming ambrosial " flowers of " vegetable gold," and sending an unseen cloud of oriental incense through the air. It would seem pedantic to introduce a botanic reference for this comparatively unknown flower ; but the u yellow jessamine," thus popularly but errone- ously called in the region in which it flourishes, will be recognized by all who have seen this superb ever- green vine in its gorgeous bloom. A BRIDAL. 89 The garden, even in its homeliest features, shared in the charm of spring ; and the squares and stripes, pranked out in gay blossoms of varied hues, and giv- ing comfortable promise of their fruits in due season, were not without their attractions to the practical eye and sense. The bees were busy with their useful labors, and disputed the calyx of the woodbine or honeysuckle with testy little humming-birds, that whirred and glanced their tiny wings with lightning quickness, like " atoms of the rainbow fluttering round," plung- ing their long slender beaks into the depths of the flower bells, and sometimes impatiently tearing them if disappointed in the nectar they hoped to find within. The groves and woods were vocal with the concert of birds, and, above all competition, rose the rich, clear song of the mocking-bird, mimicking all the rest, and with proud complacency surpassing them, all by his own artistic skill. The preceding day had been one of clouds and rain, but only a white vapor now floated in light masses through the blue ether, throwing a soft shade partially over the landscape, and then passing away, leaving it to the influence of unclouded sunshine. Every leaf and flower was sparkling with diamond drops that trembled in the sunbeams, as if conscious that they were soon to be absorbed by the irresistible power of the sovereign to whom they owed allegiance. The distant line of the horizon with its shadowy peaks, and the neighboring mountains, now a mass of rich foliage, were clearly pencilled out, challenging the attention that might otherwise have been exclusively 90 HOME AND THE WORLD. devoted to the nearer objects of interest in the scene. Constance was standing at an open window, in- haling the fragrance and music that breathed their joyous spirit into her young heart, and pointing out to little Alice a contest among three rivals, a bee, a butterfly and a humming-bird, for the honor of first appropriating a bell of the "yellow jessamine " that bloomed just beneath the window. " Why, what silly little things you are ! " ex- claimed Alice, watching the combatants eagerly, and leaning forward to see the result of the contest; " there are twenty bells on that wreath, and you can- not be satisfied, without all of you having that one. You ought to be caught for being so naughty. May I catch that pretty little tiny bird, sister? Oh, what a beautiful breast he has ! Just like a flame of fire ! And his green head and back that shine so brightly in the sun ! May I catch him ? " " If you can, " replied Constance, laughing, and the joyous child spread out her little hand to snatch the prize ; but the bird fluttered his gauzy wings with lightning quickness, for a moment, and vanished, al- most " ere she could point his place." Alice next thought herself secure of the butter fly, and her fingers were almost closed on the tips of its downy wings, but the first touch warned him of his danger, and he followed the retreat of the hum- ming-bird. " I think you may go, Mr. Bee, " said Alice, who had once had experience of a sting ; " I think I shall let you off, this time. You can take some honey to A BRIDAL. 91 the hive, and I shall have it afterwards. But who is that coming up the lawn, sister ? " Constance looked, and looked again, more eagerly, as she perceived some one in the distance, but too far to recognize him. As he drew nearer, he seemed to be divided between a desire to approach the house, and the attractive influence of the surrounding ob- jects; for he paused occasionally, and then walked rapidly forward, as if to regain the time he had lost by lingering on his way. The doubt was soon dispelled it was Vivian. Constance and Alice ran out to meet him. " My own dear brother ! " exclaimed Constance, as he clasped her in his arms, his fine face beaming with the most radiant of smiles, " I need not ask you to tell me your happiness. It is written in your eyes and in that smile. I need not ask you how your suit has prospered." " Who told you any thing about a suit, pray ? " said Vivian, playfully affecting to misunderstand her allusion, and taking little Alice in his arms and devouring her with kisses. "Do you sup- pose that I have been occupied all this time in re- plenishing my wardrobe, that you ask about suits f How do you know that I have not been studying the ancients and moderns, the arts and the graces and music, with Doctor and Mrs. Fowler? Unless, in- deed, all the secrets of the household have been di- vulged in my absence. You required my presence here to keep you all in order. I have no doubt Alice has needed the lessons of patience and forbearance that I often give her by my teasing, and you have forgotten all your Italian by this time. I fear the 92 HOME AND THE WOELD. education of my pupils has all been going wrong. And my honored parents, pray where are they ? " " Papa is taking his ride, and mamma " But Mrs. Melville at that moment appeared, and Vivian embraced her as heartily as he had his sisters. They all walked on in renewed happiness together. " You received my letter, mother ? " "Not until this morning, my son; but we had guessed its contents before it was opened. It needed neither fairy nor ' ghost ' to tell us what was so obvious before you left us. But c allow me to congratulate you on the happy occasion,' as the pompous old guar- dian, who in part aided your cause, would say." Vivian had seated himself on the steps of the portico with little Alice on his knee. As his mother spoke, she gently put back the glossy hair from his brow, and bestowed a maternal kiss upon it, while she added, more earnestly, " I congratulate you, my son. Evelyn is a lovely girl ; and your own happiness secured, the sympathy of tastes and feelings between her family and our own is the best guarantee of our satisfaction. God bless you, my dear son ! " and again she kissed the fair, manly brow. The letter Vivian referred to had been received by that morning's post, while Mr. and Mrs. Melville were sitting in his study, and while Constance and Alice were engaged as we have seen them in inhaling the balmy air of spring, and watching the contest of the bee, the butterfly, and the humming-bird. " That letter contains good news, I hope," said Mrs. Melville, who recognized the handwriting and A BRIDAL. 93 address, and had observed that the letter was from Vivian, and to herself. "When you have finished reading it, I think I may claim it," she added, with a smile. Mr. Melville placed the letter in her hand. " It contains intelligence of importance," he said, " but you will probably be as little surprised as I am at the news it communicates." Mrs. Melville read the letter. She appeared as Mr. Melville had suggested, but little surprised at its contents. " I believe we have all been anticipating the event announced to us in this letter," she said. "We may congratulate ourselves that Vivian's taste has found a direction so congenial with our own." " Yes," returned Mr. Melville, " I trust that the oft repeated saying, that 'the course of true love never did run smooth,' may be refuted in this instance ; where two young persons are equal in every respect, where they have every advantage of nature, educa- tion, and principle, and where the parents on both sides are united by congenial tastes and sentiments, there can be little doubt of their happiness. Vivian is rather young, it is true ; but that, it has been said, ' is a fault that will mend every day.' " "Vivian is only a year younger than you were when you took the same important step," said Mrs. Melville, smiling ; " for you were only twenty-three at that time, and I think we have agreed that we lost at least one year of happiness by the delay I imposed, in waiting until I should attain the respectable age of seventeen. Our experience has taught us," she added, 94 HOME AND THE WOELD. more seriously, " that when young hearts are united in bonds of love, firm faith, and sympathy of feeling and taste, they will prove, as ours have done, 4 Hearts that the world in vain has tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ! "' She had been standing behind him, with her hand resting on his shoulder, while they read the letter together. He drew her gently to him, and imprinted a kiss on her matronly cheek. " Such love, such faith, such sympathies have been ours," he said. " I trust Vivian and Evelyn will be as happy as we have been ; more than that I could not wish for them." A moment of quiet thought ensued; and Mrs. Melville apparently resumed a subject on which they were conversing, when Vivian's letter was received. " This event will then make no change in your arrangements for our contemplated visit to Europe in the autumn ? " she said, interrogatively. " No," replied Mr. Melville, " I could not change them if I would ; but Vivian and Eveljfti'can accom- pany us. A bridal tour is always in fashion, and the beau ideal of all that is gay and delightful to young ladies is a trip to Paris ; so that it will probably need no persuasion to induce them to be of our party. Vivian is just of the right age to profit by foreign travel, and his knowledge of the modern languages will greatly facilitate his improvement, and add to his pleasure." " It will certainly be an advantage to have a home such as we may offer them, for a part of the time at A BRIDAL. 95 least," said Mrs. Melville ; " and to a young man who marries an accomplished and amiable woman whose tastes coincide with his own, her society doubles the pleasure of all he enjoys, if Heaven favors the pair with good health, and a reasonable portion of what the world would call good fortune, as the special care of Divine Providence is too often called." " Such a companion as you describe," said Mr. Mel- ville, " would be no incumbrance even to an inexperi- enced traveller in these days of modern civilization. She might be an impediment to the ascent of Mont Blanc, or even a visit to the Pyramids. But the former I have always considered rather an idle ambition, and of the latter I have been content to take the accounts of travellers more enterprising than myself. These details, however, can be best settled when Vivian comes, and I have reason to expect him to-day. Perhaps I may meet him." Mr. Melville departed on his morning ride, and Vivian arrived in his absence, as has been related. Our young and romantic reader, on reviewing the last few pages, will probably exclaim', " What ! is it possible that this elegant, handsome, high-souled young man, for whom we had imagined a thousand interesting adventures, is to be married before the volume is half finished ? Is he not to be deceived in the object of his adoration, to find himself >c crossed in hopeless love,' to discover that Evelyn is not her- self, but somebody else perhaps the daughter of a foreign prince, and that to attain her hand Vivian would have to be a prince, too ? " well he was, in all but the name. And we hope to be pardoned for 96 HOME AND THE WORLD. the novelty in a novel that permits every thing to take a natural and quiet course. Romance writers are often slyly reminded that the union of the hero and heroine of the piece has the same magical effect that the name of " Jacky me nory's " brother, in the classic rhymes in which this personage is commemorated, has upon the "story" he illustrates ; and that when this union takes place, " the story's done." This is not wonderful, and it may be accounted for without the unamiable reason too often alleged, that the hero and heroine, when united, are less happy, less loving, or less romantic than before. It is only because their happiness then is too unalloyed, too " unchangingly bright " for a picture, where there must be shadows as well as sunshine to give it interest in the eyes of others. For themselves, this "long sunny lapse of a summer-day's light " is all they wish, nor is there danger that their love will ever " fall asleep in its sameness of splendor." They need no dark shadows with which to contrast their existence. It flows on like a gentle stream without a ripple on its wave, only deepened and widened by others that join it in its course, and they still flow on together until they are merged in the ocean of eternity. If the reader is anxious to pass over the next three or four months, such a sentiment accords en- tirely with the feeling of Vivian, who saw the fresh young graces of spring matured into matronly sum- mer, and summer fading into gray autumn with un- disguised satisfaction. During this period we must be content to leave A BEIDAL. 97 the young couple unmolested, without taking the liberties of Asmodius, which we should have been compelled to do, if we desired to witness v any of the interviews of the lovers. The " boiteux " would have had a difficult task in taking off three stories from the top of a noble mansion, before he could have enjoyed even a glimpse of the elegant and luxurious apartment in which they were seated, " conning their fairy lore " of possible and impossible happiness, and arranging their bright beautiful plans for their future life. Castles in the air at last subsided into castles on the earth, and the happy appointed day arrived. We should be suspected of borrowing from some fashionable journal of the time, if all the details of this memorable occasion were given details so deeply interesting to those concerned, but perchance possess- ing rather less of interest to those who are not in im- mediate anticipation of such an event for themselves. But we may be permitted to express our admiration of the beautiful bride, who looked more beautiful than ever in her dress and veil of Brussels lace, the dia- monds that rivalled her bright eyes, and the delicate wreath of mingled clematis and orange blossoms that rested lightly on her golden hair, and of the lovely group of white-robed demoiselles cfrhonneur, first of whom was Constance, claiming the sweet name of " sister," and looking, in her radiant happiness, as if her airy dress of silvery white was but a floating cloud on which a seraph rested. How shall we descend from such^ ethereal visions to the more substantial touches in the picture ? We may, indeed, rest a moment on the elegant young 5 98 HOME AND THE TTOfcLD. bridegroom, whose highest dream of personal vanity, though we are happy to say he had but little of this frailty, might have been realized by the whisper heard on every side, of " what a beautiful pair ! " and for another moment on the handsome young brides- men, with their white favors and superb bouquets of flowers, to be presented in due season to the ladies of their choice in the white-robed group. And yet another moment we might dwell upon the elegant company, and the enchanting union of music, light, and gayety. Last of all, though not least to those who were sublunary enough to appreciate such acces- sories, the superb supper, the choice old wine laid aside for the occasion when the lovely bride was born, the white and gilt boxes filled with wedding cake, curiously iced with appropriate devices, and piled up in the hall for all who wished to bear off mementoes of the bridal fete in departing. All this, and much more, " is it not written in the chronicles " of the time ? We must therefore pass on to events of equal importance in our story, though it would hardly be possible to dwell on one more inter- esting to those two of our dramatis personse, who have, so far, been its hero and heroine. An intimation has already been given that Mi- Melville had decided on going abroad soon after the bridal. It is not necessary to our story to know the exact reason that influenced him in this movement. A visit to Europe is so every-day an occurrence that it is needless to give any particular reason for it on the present occasion. Mr. Melville was a man of A BRIDAL. 99 judgment, and his reasons and his actions may be safely left to his own wisdom and discretion. Within a month after the union of Vivian and Evelyn Walsingham, Mr. Melville and his family, ac- companied by the young bride and bridegroom, em- barked for Europe. A few days before their departure, Mrs. Melville paid a visit to Mammy's cottage. She respectfully rose and stood, as was always her wont, in the vener- ated presence of her mistress. The snowy apron and collar were now relieved upon a black dress, and the Creole turban was replaced by a white cap. Mrs. Melville spoke to her kindly of the arrangements she had directed to be made to secure her comfort during the absence of the family. The poor woman burst into tears. " I cannot live now, ma'am," she said, " if you and all the family go away. Johnson has his wife and children, and he will like to stay and take care of your flowers, and the house, and every thing ; but poor me ! " and she sobbed aloud. " If you could only jest let me go with you, ma'am ! " And Mammy went. CHAPTER IX. THE SCENE CHANGES. " AND I have lov'd thee, Ocean ! " exclaimed the bard, whose brilliant genius has often illustrated this mighty theme. But the curious reader of his poetic fancies will perceive that the charms he loves to dwell upon are to be found only in views of the ocean from the land. When the scene is sketched by the poet's master hand, even when he is actually embarked upon " the dark blue sea," when "the white sail is set" and " the glorious main expanding o'er the bow," he still fondly lingers on the "spires and strand retiring," and so proves demonstratively that he is not fairly out at sea. His enthusiasm seems to decline as the land recedes, for his muse then dwells upon "the sorrows sailors find, coop'd in their winged sea-girt citadel," and on the joy they experience when on some "jocund morn " the land again appears, " and all is well." So far the poet has the sympathy of all who can appreciate the surpassing beauty and majestic sub- limity of the ocean. If its broad expanse can be seen either from a comfortable shelter on the land, or in a THE SCENE CHANGES. 101 romantic walk on the silvery beach, while the breeze fans away the warm influences of a long summer day, then its varied charms may be fairly acknowledged. Whether like a " molten mirror " it spreads afar, the white sails gleaming on its surface unmoved by a breath, or when its brilliant waves are sparkling like sapphires in the sunbeams, or when, chafing in angry mood, the proud billows come booming against the iron-bound coast, dashing up a cloud of white spray as every successive wave gives its thundering peal, old ocean is glorious. "Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners ! " But when we are fairly out at sea, the magic vanishes, and there are few if any, who have not at some period of a sea voyage found themselves ready to exclaim with another " older " if not a " better " poet, " Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea, for an acre of barren ground ! " We will not torture our reader with all the details that render life, for the most part at such a period, at best " but a waste of wearisome hours," even to those who are not positive sufferers ; but pass gladly over all the discomforts, anxieties, and miseries, small and great, usually attendant on the traversee. Happy would it be for the voyager if he could avail himself of our fairy carpet, and find himself transported with as much celerity as we are about to transfer our travel- lers to the blissful moment that announced the first faint glimpse of the rocky coast, and bright fields be- yond, of the Emerald Isle. If the limits of our story allowed the privilege, we should be only too happy to follow our travellers 102 HOME AND THE WOELD. step by step in their progress through the loveliest and most highly cultivated country in the world. With what pleasure we could accompany them in their visit to Eaton Hall, its mingled Italian and English beauties probably most admiretl because first seen of the aristocratic palaces of England, and join in the merriment raised at the expense of funny old Chester, with its rabbit-warren streets and quaint houses ! Then we should delight in rambling with them through Wales, and pausing at old Conway Castle " frowning o'er the foaming flood " that looks so placid just at that classic spot, as if smiling at the " noble rage " of the great bard. And how pleased we should be again to penetrate the gloomy but beautiful mysteries of Warwick Castle, and to laugh at the wondrous legend of the doughty Guy and his dun cow ; or to bask in the soft sunshine on the grassy mounds that now are almost all that is left of the half-fabulous splendors of Kenilworth. Still less should we have time to pause at Rich- mond, lovely Richmond ! and sail lazily up and down the Thames with the white-breasted swans who seem to be enjoying the scene at their leisure ; and least of all could we venture into the labyrinthine mazes of boundless London. We dare not even look towards glorious old Westminster, lest we should be lost amid its Gothic aisles and arches, and become bewildered by the crowd of recollections rushing at once on the mind in connection with it. All this, if described at length, would be betraying our indulgent reader into the perusal of a journal instead of a story. THE SCENE CHANGES. 103 It was precisely at " Westminster Abbey," that all the journals of all the young travellers of Mr. Melville's party broke down, nor had they courage to resume them afterwards. Unfortunately for posterity, which might have been enriched by these valuable lucubra- tions, Mrs. Melville happened to refer to our gifted author who has illustrated this noble subject with his pen; and a re-perusal of his beautiful "sketch" so far discouraged them, that the Abbey and the journals were together abandoned in despair. Still more willingly do we pass over the unenvi- able journey from London to Paris, the abominations encountered in crossing the Channel, which Boreas and Neptune seem to have combined in using as a funnel for filling all their great Heidelberg tuns of seas and oceans, in a cockle-shell boat overloaded with armies of sick and wounded " land-lubbers," evi- dently making their first excursion to the great French Capital, and tumbled about in heterogeneous heaps over the floors and deck above and below. All this we leave for chroniclers who have a fancy for such themes. We are willing to escape, and fly over the road from Boulogne-sur-mer to Paris, as rapidly as did the party whose movements it is our duty to keep in sight. The usual attending troubles of a first arrival and establishment in a great city awaited Mr. Melville and his family in the Metropolis, and it was with no little satisfaction that they found themselves, after encounter- ing a reasonable share of those troubles, established in a handsome house in the most eligible portion of the Faubourg St. Germain. 104 HOME AND THE WORLD. It happened that one of those fine old palace-like hotels (it would be presumptuous to say to the reader that the finest private residences are distinguished by this title) had just been vacated by the Marquise de M., who from being a lady of pleasure, had by a natural consequence become a lady of pain, and had retired to her chateau to revive her health as well as her de- clining fortunes, leaving her fine hotel hi the " noble Faubourg " to be occupied by any stranger who was willing to pay for the honor of taking her place. The hotel was of noble size, built in a hollow square, with a central court, and with a garden of consider- able extent. The garden was attached to the portion of the building aufondde la cour, and it was for this reason that Mr. Melville and his family gave it their preference. The entrances were separate, and the different sides of the building as distinct as so many large houses in London or in any city in our own country would be. The only difference was that the whole hotel was served by the same Argus-eyed porter who kept watch and ward over the interests of his mistress, Madame la Marquise, and whose vocation it was to report to her that her garden was well kept, that her gilded salons were never profaned by burn- ing any other fuel than the finest wood the chantier could supply, and that none but the most delicate wax lights were to be seen in her lustres. Au reste the porter was honest and considerate, though like all others of his tribe he was jealous and irascible, and orders once given to him could never be reversed even on the most important occasions. The rooms were large and numerous, the dispo- THE SCENE CHANGES. 105 sition commodious, and the furniture elegant. The gar- den though, at the season when Mr. Melville arrived, deprived of its summer beauties, gave an agreeable view even in its fading charms to the salons, and the walls that divided it from several others in its vicinity were all mantled with an impervious covering of ivy, rendering the boundaries invisible, and giving the whole together the effect of extensive grounds. A lady's merlin in one of the adjoining gardens was still celebrating every lingering ray of sunshine and every departing flower with his sweet though monotonous note, and a fountaiiflplashed in a marble basin in the centre of the garden, as if to make an accompaniment to his solo. Mrs. Melville had accomplished her wish of offer- ing a home to Vivian and Evelyn, and at first they were disposed to avail themselves of it, and pass the winter beneath the roof which might now be called paternal. But the season was most propitious for their intended tour as well as a sojourn in a sunnier clime, and a proposition made to them to join an agreeable party, and divide the winter and spring be- tween Rome and Florence, proved an irresistible temptation. Some " natural tears " were dropped as they departed, but the smiles soon resumed their place while the happy young bride and bridegroom went on their joyous way, finding novelty and in- terest at every step, and the family they had left were consoled by the assurance of hearing often of them, and welcoming them back with the flowers and the summer birds. Mr. Melville found absorbing occupation in vari- 5* 106 HOME AND THE WOULD. ous important pursuits, which, with the duties and pleasures of society, left him hardly time even to think with regret of the quiet retirement of his home. A numerous circle of friends and acquaintance now claimed Mrs. Melville's time and attention, for Paris is the home of strangers, and the favorite resort of all who have means and tune at command to ex- pend in a foreign land. Every body has some good reason for preferring Paris to any other city for a tem- porary residence. The young like it, because it is gay and brilliant; the old, because fe is convenient and agreeable. The scientific find it the emporium of science, it is the home of the arts and the graces ; half an hour on a spring day in the lovely garden of the Tuileries will explain why it is the delight of children, and a wag has mischievously said that " even clergymen like Paris, because there are so many naughty things there to preach against." One great advantage it certainly possesses over most cities for those who do not desire to waste all their precious moments in conventional frivolities. There is no city where entire liberty for both good and evil is so com- plete for strangers, and it is vain for those who there blindly follow the lead of folly or vice to say that they have no alternative presented to their choice. But the temptations to waste time, even to the most reasonable, are very great, and Mrs. Melville felt some anxiety lest her young daughter, who often found herself surrounded by companions of her own age, should lose the opportunity of cultivating to greater advantage the accomplishments in which she THE SCENE CHANGES. 107 was already distinguished. Her precious morning hours were therefore dedicated to the instructions of several masters ; and a lady eminently qualified for the delicate task, after much consideration and when her unquestionable testimonials had been sought and re- ceived, was engaged to pass a few hours daily with Constance. Madame Laval, the lady who assumed this duty, was young and handsome. Her pleasing figure, her simple but neat and even elegant toilette, her dark expressive eyes and frank cordial smile soon wen the hearts of both her pupils, for little Alice claimed her place as one. In the character of her mind and heart she displayed at the first glance, the open loyalty of her English father, and the warm enthusiasm of her Italian mother. But by a singular coincidence of circumstances she spoke neither of their languages ; and it was only her pure Parisian French that Con- stance availed herself of to perfect her own. Madame Laval soon won the love and trust of all the family, and her daily visits were anticipated as a pleasant recreation rather than a season of study. In- deed, to talk was her chief vocation, and to catch the intonation of her musical voice was the best exercise of her young pupils. It is a matter of regret that her own pretty tournures de phrase must necessarily be lost in our translation of them. "You are not then acquainted with those very near neighbors of yours?" said Madame Laval to Constance one day, after they had passed through their usual recitations of Racine and Boileau and La- fontaine. " I am fortunate in having my pupils be- 108 HOME AND THE WORLD. neath the same roof, though in different houses. The Signorina Beatrice de Yisconti is a charming young person. I hope you will one day become acquainted with her." " That is then the name of the elegant young lady we met just within the porte-cochere when we returned from our early walk to the Tuileries yesterday ? " in- quired Constance. " Yes," replied Madame Laval. " The Comte de Visconti, her father, has been here several years, and has just returned with his daughter from a sojourn of some months in his native city of Milan. It is a matter of surprise to his friends that he should leave a place where his noble name is so well known, to take up his residence in a city where he becomes only one of a crowd of strangers ; but Paris has its attractions for every class." "Perhaps you might apply that criticism to more than one temporary resident of this enticing metropo- lis," said Constance, smiling ; " but as the signorina and her father are such very near neighbors of ours, I feel particularly interested in knowing something about them. If the gentleman who was with her yesterday is her father, he is a stately-looking man, certainly, but rather grim, is he not ? " " Oh, pray do not apply such a formidable word to the count," said Madame Laval, laughing. "His daughter would never forgive you if she were to hear it, for she is entirely devoted to him, and would resent the slightest intimation that he is any thing less than an archangel. She submits to all his rules without once questioning their reason or end, and would as THE SCENE CHANGES. 109 soon dream of any other impossibility as the failure of his unerring judgment. Perhaps you observed how pale she looked when we met her yesterday : I think she is too much confined, and that her health and spirits need recreation. It would be most fortu- nate for her if she could become acquainted with such a family as yours." " This, perhaps, would not suit the taste of her father," said Constance ; " but if it should accord with his wishes, from your account of the young lady, I should be most happy to relieve her solitude, and cultivate so charming an acquaintance." "You could not have a more agreeable com- panion," said Madame Laval. "The signorina excels in the music of her native land, and she is gentle and accomplished. But she is very timid, a natural con- sequence of the restraints of her education, for she has seen nothing of the world, and her father is her beau-ideal of every thing great and excellent that it contains." " I will never call him grim again," said Constance, with enthusiasm. " I love her for this devotion : it proves a pure and noble nature. But has the signo- rina no mother ? " " Alas ! no," replied Madame Laval. " She has no mother, and a mother's place is ill-supplied by an aunt who resides with the count. But she is a. great invalid, and seldom even leaves her apartment. Her presence in the house is only a nominal protection for her fair niece, and this is one reason why the count excludes his daughter from the world so sedulously. 110 HOME AND THE WORLD. In this metropolis a young lady may almost as well be in a convent as without a mother's protection." The entrance of Mrs. Melville at that moment, attired for a morning drive and visits, reminded Madame Laval and her pupils that the hours of study and conversation had been transcended, and she paid her parting respects and took her leave. The usual compliment of morning calls made on Mrs. Melville demanded a return of the civility she had received ; but the most important of these visits for the particular morning referred to was one to the Princesse de P , as some days had elapsed since Mr. and Mrs. Melville had accepted a courtesy from her that demanded such an acknowledgment, This courtesy, a large and ceremonious dinner party, has not claimed special attention in our story, because few circumstances of peculiar interest attended it. There was only one which deserves to be re- corded ; and which was afterwards recalled as an omen by all who were present on the occasion, as dreams often are when the vague and mysterious com- binations of thought that produce them assume reality. In the midst of the elegant entertainment, a tri- umph of the confectioner's art appeared in two large fabrics of exquisite and delicate workmanship, which were placed in front of the host and hostess. One of these represented a kingly palace, the other, a Gothic cathedral. Whether the warmth of the rooms had partially dissolved the icy foundation on which they rested, or whether a darker and more mysterious cause produced the symbolic result, cannot now be determined ; but as soon as the splendid fabrics THE SCENE CHANGES. Ill were put in place, they trembled convulsively for a moment, and then suddenly fell, scattering the spark- ling debris over the table, the ormolu ornaments, and the silver and gold plate with which the table was profusely decorated. As it does not suit our present purpose to com- ment upon this catastrophe, which only excited a smile on the part of the amiable and refined host and hostess and some pretty expressions of commiseration from their well-bred guests, we shall not pursue it farther, but return to Mrs. Melville and her daughter, who have been waiting in then* chariot while we have detailed this circumstance, and until the footman could inquire if Madame La Princesse de P was at home and would receive that morning. The reply was affirmative, and the visitors were conducted through several salons to the farthest hi the suite. The room in which the lady received our visitors was elegant but simple, giving, as the favorite morn- ing room always does, the best idea of its occupant. Music, books, and flowers had each their appropriate places in it, and two lovely children were gambolling around their mother with a delight and confidence that showed a perfect understanding between them, and that her little ones were not " wisely kept for show" on occasions when la bonne mere might be displayed to advantage. She advanced with an unaffected and winning air of cordiality that at once touched the electrio chain of sympathy, and the corner-stone of a true friendship was laid at that moment which lasted long beyond the limits of our story. 112 HOME AND THE WOULD. After the usual compliments were exchanged, the princess remarked that the court presentation, which had been the subject of a former conversation, had been delayed in consequence of mourning, but that obstacle being now removed, it would give her plea- sure to be a chaperon on that occasion. " It is one of our old-fashioned rules," she added, with a smile, " to exclude youth and beauty as much as possible from our court, by denying admission to young ladies. But these barbarous rules are sometimes dispensed with, even with less potent reasons than those which admit the ladies Louise and Marie of Orleans, who are not more than sixteen ; so I think it would not be an unpardonable offence if for once I should smuggle youth and beauty into the presence of our august sovereign ; " and she looked archly at Con- stance. Constance was at that moment amusing herself with the children, who were near her. The little girl was apparently about three years old, her brother perhaps a year older. She had taken quiet possession of a chair which he affirmed to be his. " Monsieur," said the little lady, putting her head on one side with a knowing air, " do you ask me to get up ? I am a lady and you are a gentleman. You know, in society," (a strong emphasis on the word,) "the ladies sit down, and the gentlemen stand up." Then changing her grave tone, she put out her tiny foot, and added, laughing, " There ! sit upon that ! " The merry boy took up the little foot and kissed it. "You shall have the chair and a kiss too," he said, " for being so clever." And he threw his arms around her neck. THE SCENE CHANGES. 113 Constance joined the laughing pair ; and the free- masonry that unerringly guides children to those who sympathize in their innocence and guilelessness, soon gave her their confidence. The beautiful boy glided first to her side and then on her knee, and ended by placing his hands on her fresh fair cheeks on either side, and bestowing a hearty kiss on the rosebud lips between. " Mamma is going to make us dance to-morrow," he said, in English, for his mother was unwilling that her children should lose her own loved tongue, and was happy when any occasion offered to practise them in it. '* 1 hope you will come and dance with me. I would love it much. I assure you I do not dance too badly." " You will pardon the French idioms in the Eng- lish of Alphonse, I hope, Miss Melville," said the prin- cess, smiling. " But I hope you will at least under- stand his request, and gratify us by acceding to it. We will promise not to make you dance as he has translated his faire dancer. I am about to give the children a bal ftenfants, and we shall be most happy if you will accept his invitation. We never separate parents and children on such occasions," she. added, to Mrs. Melville, " and I shall then hope, also, to make the acquaintance of your youngest daughter." The invitation was as frankly accepted as given.: and the princess in answer to an inquiry on the subject, undertook " in merry mood " to show the style of the anticipated presentation. "Alphonse, you are just in the middle of that side of the room," she said to the little boy. " Now 114 HOME AND THE WOKLD. you shall be the throne, and that large arni-chair at the end of the room shall represent the king." Alphonse walked gravely to the large chair and seated himself in it with an air of command, " I prefer being the king," he said, "if you please, Madame la Princesse." Every body laughed at this, but the preference was accorded, and the princess, accompanied by.her visitors, went through the ceremony, and were gra- ciously received by his little Majesty, who, though not actually bearing on his u baby brow the round and top of sovereignty," looked at least noble and beautiful enough to be the grandson of a king. The presence of Constance was again claimed, and her promise granted for the miniature ball ; and the visitors departed, and finished their morning at home, as the drive and walk au JBois de Boulogne, which had been their favorite resource for exercise and fresh air, were now interdicted by excessive and in- creasing cold. CHAPTER X. A NOBLE AETIST. THE winter which had now set in will long be remembered in Paris as a season of almost unpre- cedented rigor and gloom. In this usually mild and pleasant climate it was marvellous to the " fur-clad Russ " to find himself amid Siberian snows ; to the inhabitants of warmer latitudes who had derived their ideas of the sunny land of France from the poetic fancies often so brightly conjured up to gild the stern realities of life as well as of climates, it seemed passing strange to see the Seine a sheet of " thick ribbed ice," and the gay Boulevards enclosed on either side by embankments of snow. These embankments had arisen so suddenly and unexpectedly that it was found not only impossible to remove them, but the increasing severity of the sea- son continued to add to them until the formidable barriers rose like fortifications, extending on either side of the wide street, and completely concealing the portion within the trees, dedicated to foot-passen- gers, from the more fortunate occupants of the central part. Here, notwithstanding these discouragements, 116 HOME AND THE WORLD. the elegant chariots of the votaries of fashion might be seen ; for a winter passed out of Paris and in a chateau in the country was an impossible idea, and there was perhaps more reason than usual for seeking in a crowded city some oblivion of the saison morte, which is always a ready excuse for all who prefer a city life in winter. Bright young faces sometimes sparkled through the frostwork that speedily formed itself over the crystal transparency of the glasses around them, and were occasionally seen for a moment by the light of the lamps, that even during the day often shed their dim lustre amid the surrounding gloom. But more frequently might be observed among the slowly moving file features marked by lines of care and thought, to which a perpetual interruption in their onward progress gave no such pleasing or amiable expression. In the words of a princess of the reign- ing court, " such unprecedented efforts were made to please the people, that one was often kept waiting ten minutes in one's chariot to permit a huge omnibus to pass." This outrage, so pathetically described by the Princesse de P , did not seem, however, to dis- turb the equanimity of the pretty little grisettes and soubretteS) who tripped merrily on and showed to the greatest advantage their neat costumes and dainty chaussure, which the condition of the streets gave an additional reason for displaying as much as possible. By these and other foot passengers the clumsy public vehicles were from time to time arrested, and accept- ing the assistance always gallantly tendered by the A NOBLE AKTIST. 11 7 conducteur, they sprang gayly in, and added yet an- other to the smiling row of faces, and dashing array of many colored shawls and bright ribbons with which the vehicles were already decorated. On one of these misty and comfortless evenings, when the lights that began to twinkle in the surround- ing gloom reminded the hurrying passengers of the populous rue Richelieu of the warm and well-lighted apartments to which many of them were hastening, the dense crowd found themselves arrested by one of these awkward machines, which received their united and hearty maledictions. A chariot had drawn near the narrow side pave- ment, the hope of its solitary occupant being evidently to continue his rapid career, so unexpectedly checked, in spite of this obstacle. But the approach of vehicles on the other side, added to the increasing masses of foot-passengers, rendered it impossible to proceed, and the restive horses, irritated still more by the coachman's repeated warning of " gardez ! " to the bustling throng, began to rear and plunge. Impatient of the delay, and apparently of the whole scene, their owner hastily checked the servants, and descending from his chariot, threw his furred cloak around him, and rapidly threaded the crowded and snow-encum- bered streets. He passed with equal rapidity through the Place du Carousel, and across the Pont Royal, and soon after found himself at the portal of his residence in the Faubourg St. Germain. The porter immediately responded to the authoritative sound of the bell, and its ponderous bronze door was respectfully thrown 118 HOME AND THE WORLD. open to welcome the chilled and impatient occupant of the hotel. He entered the court, and passing on one side, ascended a marble stairway and advanced through a number of large and elegantly furnished rooms to a smaller one at the extremity of the suite. The door was closed, and it was with evident re- luctance and hesitation that he laid his hand on it. Twice he made the effort, and as often, apparently forgetting his fatigue and impatience, he turned away and rapidly paced the apartments again. But noiseless as were his footsteps on the carpeted floors, they were heard by a watchful ear within, and a pair of wondrously lustrous dark eyes looked forth from the door that had been so carefully closed, and eagerly followed his retreating figure. By degrees a fair hand appeared, then a fairy foot, and when he turned to retrace his hesitating steps toward the door, the vision of beauty stood revealed before him. " Beatrice ! " he exclaimed, startled from his reverie by the lovely apparition, though he was well aware that she was within when he entered. u Yes, it is Beatrice, your own Beatrice, my father," she replied, advancing toward him, and taking his passive hand. " But why do you linger here ? Our studio is far more warm and delightful than these larger apartments, chilled as they are by the intense cold of this strange clime." The father's lofty form involuntarily bent to return the caress of his daughter, and he permitted himself to be led into the retreat which, under other circum- stances, would have been the first sought on his return after an absence of many hours. But his brow was A NOBLE ARTIST. 119 now heavy with a load of care and perplexity that grew darker and deeper as he continued to muse, and he rose from his seat and paced the room. " Beatrice ! " he again exclaimed, but in a tone so sad that it reached the heart as well as the ear of the lovely being he addressed, and banished the smile with which she first met him, " we must bid adieu to the luxury in which we have indulged during our residence in this metropolis. As I anticipated, all has gone wrong at home ; I have been so unfortunate as to give offence unwittingly in high places there, and I am deprived of my fair heritage, perhaps, for ever ! " * "And is it this which clouds your brow, and makes you so sad ? " replied Beatrice, who with the thoughtlessness of youth could imagine no greater evil than the absence of the smile which had ever been ready to meet her fond caress, " is this all ? why it will only give us a fair opportunity of realizing some of my brightest visions, of displaying to an admiring world your splendid genius of which it has been deprived solely by the pride of exalted rank and exuberant wealth. And above all," she added, clasping his hand in her own, as she looked up in his face with an expression which only a father can appre- ciate, " may I not now have it in my power to prove my devotion, and to show not only by words but deeds, the depth of my affection and gratitude to you, my father, in sharing your reverses as I have enjoyed your prosperity ? " The father passed his hand tenderly over her fair brow. " Alas ! " he said, " nurtured as you have been 120 HOME AND THE WOKLD. in the lap of luxury, how little do you know of the difficulties that await us ! A daughter of the proud and noble house of Visconti left friendless and without resources in a foreign land, compelled, perchance, to aid her father in some ignoble occupation, or worse than all, to exhibit those graces and talents, so care- fully fostered and highly prized, to the gaze of an unfeeling multitude, and this for a scanty and pre- carious subsistence, Beatrice ! the thought is dis- traction ! " He started from his seat and again wildly paced the room. Some moments of silence ensued, when he was arrested by the gentle tones of* that loved voice, whose accents of music could at any moment calm the rising tide of passion within his breast. He looked into those dark eyes beaming with enthusiasm, and watched the changes of her expressive face with intense interest as she spoke. There was an air of dignity, firmness, and resolution in her aspect that surprised him. Hitherto he had regarded her only as the playful companion of his leisure moments, the loveliest flower of his rare collection, the model "of his favorite art. Now she seemed taansformed by some sudden and mysterious agency into an equal, nay, a guide, a counsellor. " I have indeed been nurtured in the lap of luxury, my loved father," she said, " and have seen little of the unfeeling world of which you speak, thanks to the tender care that has watched over me, showing me only its brightest images, and strewing my path with flowers. But in this hard world there must be many no^le hearts, and noble hearts and elevated A NOBLE AETIST. 121 minds cannot be steeled to such merit or blind to such genius as yours. The cloud that now obscures your fortunes will, I trust, pass away; but in the mean time I am willing, he'artily willing to sacrifice the luxuries to which I have been accustomed. Only banish that anxious and pained expression from your brow, smile on your own Beatrice as you did yester- day, when your last delicate touch completed this triumph of sculpture, and however humble our habi- tation may be, I shall be more than content." He permitted her to lead him gently to his favor- ite seat, and for a moment the cloud was dispelled as he looked upon the beautiful image of the lovelier reality before him. The implements of his art were beside him, and he involuntarily laid his hand on them. The touch appeared to throw a shuddering chill through his frame. " No ! " he exclaimed, " I cannot make such a sacrifice to mammon. My destiny," he paused and seemed lost amid conflicting emotions. " Alas ! my dear father," said Beatrice in a mourn- ful tone, " that fearful word falls heavily on my heart. Victor Delorme dwells ceaselessly on it. Each time that I see him, his fate, his destiny, seems to occupy all his thoughts. Would it not be better to commit ourselves in w^ord, as well as in deed, to the care and guidance of the only power in which we can securely trust ? " She spoke so gently, so sweetly, that the reproach conveyed by her words seemed not unbecoming, even though addressed to a parent. " Victor is a noble youth," said her father, happy, 6 122 HOME AND THE WORLD. apparently, to find some less painful subject of reflec- tion than the one his agitated spirit had dwelt upon. "I love him, for his mother, though he does not resemble her, was very dear to me, and you are her living image, Beatrice. You bear her name, and in all the poet's dream of paradise, or even in his own Beatrice, he could not have imagined or portrayed a fairer image. True it is, that our young kinsman is sometimes moody, and sometimes touched with the transcendentalism of the times, as well as other eccen- tricities, but these are only fancies of youth. They will pass away, and leave the bright ore more valuable when separated from the dross that momentarily ob- scures its lustre." As he spoke the last words, he rose and approached the door where a hasty footstep was heard. Appa- rently the guest was not unexpected, for he threw it open as if to welcome a familiar friend. With an air of disappointment and haughty surprise, he drew up his tall form as he perceived a stranger, and one of unprepossessing aspect, before him. " Monsieur le Comte will, I trust, pardon this intrusion." The words were uttered in a slow and protracted manner, while the eyes of the speaker seemed to take a rapid inventory of all within the apartment, and rested at last on Beatrice, who shrunk with instinctive aversion from his gaze. " Monsieur le Comte will remember that he desired me to call this evening at five o'clock." " I have no recollection of any such appointment," replied the Comte de Visconti, yet more haughtily A NOBLE ARTIST. 123 and provoked at the assured manner of a man whom he had never before seen, and who had thus unwar- rantably intruded with a pretended license into his apartments. He hastily closed the door behind him, and laid his hand on the bell. The unwelcome visitor perceived that farther delay might lead to unpleasant consequences. "Monsieur le Comte will pardon me," he said with an air of humility, and hastily producing a letter. " I received this letter from one who requested me to deliver it punctually at five o'clock, and by a slight change in my commission, I obtained entrance." An expression of contempt marked the manner in which the missive was received after this avowal ; but its contents were apparently of deep interest, for the Comte remained standing in the spot where it was presented, until several closely written pages had been carefully examined. "The letter demands no answer?" said the in- truder interrogatively. ft None," was the laconic reply ; and with a low reverence, he withdrew. " I regret now, my daughter," said the count as he re-entered the room where Beatrice anxiously awaited him, "that I requested Victor Delorme to pass an hour here this evening, for I am well aware that his presence is less agreeable to you than to me. I shall be compelled to leave you, for I have received intelligence through this unprepossessing visitor which demands my immediate attention. How this man became possessed of a letter treating of matters so delicate and important, I do not know ; but I must 124 HOME AND THE WORLD. seek the writer without delay. I will therefore coun- termand the order I gave the porter for the admission of Victor, and " He was here unexpectedly interrupted. The doors of the adjoining apartment were thrown open, and the domestic announced " Monsieur Delorme." Be- atrice looked imploringly at her father, but after saluting his young kinsman with his wonted polite- ness, he said hastily, " My daughter, my engagement admits of no delay. I must therefore leave you, but I shall return within an hour," and with a brief apology to his guest, he departed. " May I hope that my visit is not unwelcome ? " said Delorme in rather a lofty tone, for his eagle glance had detected the expression with which Bea- trice looked up to her father on his entrance. " Let me beg that I may not interrupt your pleasing studies, or it may be, more pleasing meditations." A bright blush rose in the cheek of Beatrice at the last words, for she knew from the expressive glance that accompanied them, that more was meant than met the ear. " My occupation this evening has been quite light enough even for your taste, Victor," she replied, "for I am well aware of your aversion to serious occupa- tions for the gentler part of creation. I became deeply interested in a musical composition by one of my favorite authors, and I am sure some mistakes have been made in printing it. The patience it has demanded to copy it with such additions and subtrac- tions as to make it, what it was doubtless intended to be in the original, might claim even your sympathy." A NOBLE AKTIST. 125 " You deem this, then, a light occupation ? " in- quired Delorme " one which I should think heavier than the solution of an intricate mathematical prob- lem; but such are the ideas of the age. Happy would it be for us if we could return to primeval days, when shepherdesses, arrayed in robes as verdant as the banks of wild thyme on which their flocks were browsing, or white as their fleecy locks, sang their sweet, untaught harmonies, without any other accom- paniment than that of a rippling brook, or the sum- mer breeze." "Your ideas are not expressed with your usual precision, Victor," said Beatrice with an arch smile. " Am I to understand that the shepherdesses, arrayed in white or in verdant robes, uttered these untaught harmonies, or shall we ascribe them to the fleecy charge ? I am inclined to the opinion that one would do nearly as well as the other, though I confess I am not a fair judge, as I have seen no shepherdesses very far from this gay Capital, and heard no untaught har- monies except those of the Tyrolians, who sometimes figure in the salons here, but whose music, like their costume, loses its whole charm, when separated from the romance of their splendid waterfalls and snow- capped mountains." " Romance waterfalls snow-capped mountains," echoed Delorme. "You are now on your favorite themes, Beatrice, and mine also, though you often ac- cuse me of insensibility to the beauties of nature, " "You misunderstand me, Victor," interrupted Beatrice, who was slightly agitated by the manner 126 HOME AND THE WORLD. in which his last words were spoken. " I only under- stand nature in a different sense from yours." " Ah, Beatrice, how often shall I have to contest that point with you ? My belief is far sweeter than your own : why should you not think, as I do, that of those fresh fair flowers in your fairer hand, each one possesses a soul ? " " Because we have no warrant for such a belief," replied Beatrice calmly, " nor would I involve myself in the mazes of a philosophy that may end in bewil- dering my judgment and confusing all perceptions of truth and principle. We cannot comprehend each other, Victor, I am too simple, too childlike for you. Your ideas are too sublimated, too subtile for my humbler understanding. Suffer me, then, to retain the impressions received in my earliest years, and do not disturb the happy dreams, as you deem them, of childish innocence and faith." She spoke almost imploringly, and her dark eyes glistened through the tears with which they were momentarily suffused. " I would not deprive you of those sweet memo- ries, Beatrice ; I would only add to the happiness you derive from them. Why should you not, amid other pleasing thoughts, invest those beautiful gifts of na- ture with a hope of immortality ? As they lie there beneath that hand of statue-like sympathy and grace, why should we not deem them alike animated by a divine spirit ? " As he spoke, he lightly touched the flowers, and then the white hand above them. Beatrice gently A NOBLE ARTIST. 127 withdrew her hand. The movement was resisted, and the hand was clasped within his own. She looked up with an expression of surprise and almost of alarm. " Nay, Beatrice, do not be offended if I read some of the lines of fate written in this hand. Even if it were pledged to another, he could never attain the summit of his anticipated happiness. Your destiny is linked with mine. It may be that we shall fulfil this destiny in the palaces of kings. Empresses have ere this realized the dreams of glory dimly shadowed forth by those who saw not into futurity as I do. It is vain to contend with the decrees of fate. Beatrice thou wilt yet be mine ! " The last words were uttered in a deep, low voice, strangely contrasting with the playful tones of the first part of their conversation. Beatrice endeavored to withdraw her eyes from the steady, moveless look which met them. Calm and sad, those eyes were gazing in hers. As the spell-bound bird, she would have given worlds to fly, yet she spoke not stirred not. As the pure marble image near her, she be- came statue-like, pale and immovable. A slight convulsive shudder passed over her frame as the sound of her father's approaching footstep in the adjoining room recalled her to herself. He entered, and the spell was broken. His own agitation was too great to permit him to remark that of his daughter, who, almost unobserved by him, quitted the apart- ment. The agitation of the Comte de Visconti was not without cause. At the epoch referred to by our 128 HOME AND THE WOULD. story, the dark elements of revolution both in Italy and France were already at work, and the subter- ranean mine was composed of materials unsuspected by its victims. At this period, the fortunes of men, too high-souled to penetrate designs so far below them, were often gradually undermined by those who hoped to reap the spoils of a princely estate, by accusing the noble- man to whom it belonged of treachery toward his own government, and the Comte de Visconti was marked as one of these victims. By the mysterious machinations of some unknown enemy, his words had been perverted, his letters intercepted, and he found himself suddenly transported from the highest pros- perity to the brink of ruin. Some appearance of truth was afforded in these machinations by the conduct and conversation of a near relative of the count. The only surviving child of a youthful and wayward sister, whom he had loved with almost paternal fondness, and who had incurred the lasting displeasure of the rest of her family by an imprudent, and to them repulsive alliance, Victor Delorme exercised an influence over the mind of his kinsman of which he was himself unconscious. For- getting the wild heedlessness with which this cher- ished companion of his earlier years had disregarded all his counsels, as well as the more sacred bonds of parental authority, Visconti remembered only her days of penitential sorrow, and the last touching words with which she confided her son to his pro- tecting care. The pledge then given had been nobly redeemed, A NOBLE ARTIST. 129 for that child of her love had shared his warmest af- fection as well as his ample fortune. Perhaps, to an indulgence too unlimited might have been ascribed the restless and uncurbed spirit which looked with contempt on all present happiness; and Victor De- lorme passed hours, and days, and sleepless nights in the anticipation of events which, if "taken at the flood," were to lead him to the pinnacle of fortune. He had friends, young, ardent and zealous friends, as well as innumerable satellites, for there was a strange fascination about him, that awed while it attracted. Quick, refined and subtile, his mind was eagerly turned to every new theory of the day, however start- ling; and with rare gifts of grace and eloquence, he found little difficulty in imparting his own ideas to those who came within the magical sphere of his influence. Beatrice, the gentle, inexperienced Bea- trice, was the only being on whom he had in vain en- deavored to exercise this mysterious power. Years had passed away since she had been deprived of the guardian angel who had watched over the morning of her life ; yet there were sweet and holy memo- ries remaining there were impressions made on that young, pure heart, as inefiaceable as if they had been engraven on adamant; and these impressions were her only shield against his refined subtleties. The relations of Delorme with his kinsman were naturally of the most intimate character, and Beatrice had, in childhood, regarded him as a brother; but time passed on, and every added day brought new feelings and events. He saw her, almost without jeal- ousy, promised to another, and the personal attractions 6* 130 HOME AND THE WOKLD. and fine qualities of his rival only stimulated an ar- dent desire to supplant him. Those who were far more powerful had yielded to his influence, nor did he doubt for a moment that one so gentle, so timid, so self-distrusting, would easily submit to his ascendency. But the obstacles thrown in his way by the quiet yet persevering resolution of Beatrice to avoid him, as far as possible, perplexed and embarrassed him, while his impatient temper could ill brook these symptoms of distrust on her part, which amounted almost to aversion. She rarely afforded him any opportunity of speaking to her except in the presence of her fa- ther ; and he was betrayed suddenly, and as he knew, prematurely, into the declaration of his sentiments toward her, by the temptation of an occurrence so rare as an unwitnessed interview with her. How he reconciled the high ideas of honor, which he professed, with his determination to persuade her to a union with him, knowing, as he well did, the in- dignant surprise that the discoveiy of such a design would awaken in the breast of his kind and indulgent protector, it would be difficult to decide. Yet he formed this determination at the same moment that he professed a warm attachment to his rival, and with the certainty before him that the object of his blind passion would forfeit the favor and protection of her fond but proud and haughty parent, by a step so un- warrantable. But to those whose principles, if they deserve the name, are warped by the vagaries of a fervid imagi- nation, it is easy to surmount all difficulties ; and to his "destiny " Victor Delorme blindly committed him- A NOBLE AETIST. 131 self, in the belief ( he might have thought it sincere) that this destiny would guide him in the path of rec- titude as well as fortune. To the influence of the same mysterious but irre- sistible destiny did he ascribe the impulses of his way- ward temper, which often led him, against his better judgment, amid scenes dangerous alike to his fortunes and his character. The unsettled and feverish state of public sentiment afforded a wide scope for the wild imaginations of bold and youthful adventurers, and the doctrines of lajeune France^ though ridiculed in the public journals, were secretly conspiring with other causes in laying the train that was soon to ex- plode with fearful and startling effect. Insensibly he found himself led on from a group of listening friends and admirers to enlarge the sphere of his attractive influence. He was sought, consulted, relied on. Schemes of government, which might have succeeded if men could have been converted into angels, were proposed for his consideration. The free- dom, with which such dangerous topics were openly discussed, naturally excited jealousy and alarm on the part of the ruling government ; but the feeble at- tempts made to repress this license, while they mo- mentarily smothered the flame, only served to give it more deep and deadly power, when it should burst forth with renewed life and vigor. But as yet all was tranquil in the metropolis, as " the smooth surface of a summer sea." CHAPTER XI. A COURT AND A MINIATURE BALL. As it is not our intention to lead our reader into the mazes of a historical novel, the period to which we refer being too near the present day to be invested with the romance afforded by the enchantment of dis- tance, only three of the personages of the reigning court will be mentioned in the presentation which we have seen practised, in anticipation, in the salon of the Princesse de P. An event so brief and so unimportant to our story would not have been recorded but that it was of some consequence, at the epoch referred to, as the beginning of a social career in the brilliant circles of the me- tropolis, and it might appear strange, to those ac- quainted with the customs of the time, to omit all notice of it. A rapid drive of a few minutes sufficed to trans- port Mrs. Melville and her daughter to the Pavilion d'Horloge at the Palace of the Tuileries, where, with other ladies, they were ushered through files of liveried domestics and some well-armed guards unnecessary precaution for such gentle visitors ! and conducted up A COUBT AND A MINIATURE BALL. 133 the great stairway into an ante-room, where they were received by the Princesse de P. The ladies were as elegantly attired as the " mock- ery of woe " still worn by the court admitted, and the delicately fair complexion of Constance looked almost dazzling by the contrast with her black dress. The conch-shell tint of her cheek was heightened by the excitement of the novel scene on which she was about to enter ; and it is not possible to imagine a more beautiful young creature than she looked at that moment. The group assembled there and unused to see such youth and loveliness awaiting an introduc- tion to the sovereign, from whose presence custom had habitually excluded these graces, looked at her with a surprise and admiration that heightened still farther her embarrassment and her beauty ; for the timidity she manifested had a peculiar charm in eyes accustomed to see only the blase votaries of fashion. " We shall be compelled to wait here," said the princess in a low voice, as if afraid of being over- heard in the adjoining salon, "until the gentlemen who have preceded us, pass into the apartments of the Dauphiness and the Duchesse de Berri. I hope my lessons have not been forgotten," she added smiling, as she looked at Constance. The folding doors were at that moment thrown open, and revealed a superb and brilliantly-lighted salon, at the extremity of which stood the Sovereign, surrounded by the attending nobles of his court. The throne, with its regal decorations, was on the side of the room, as the princess had indicated in the rehearsal of the presentation made in her drawing- room. X34 HOME AND THE WOULD. A profound reverence, as the ladies entered the salon, was returned by a graceful salutation from the king. Another profound reverence made by the ladies, on advancing opposite the throne, was again acknowledged by as courteous a bow, and the last reverence was made when a near approach to majesty enabled the sovereign to say a few words of compli- ment to each of his fair guests. The reception was marked by that elegant courtesy which distinguished the monarch, for even the ene- mies of Charles X. accorded him the attributes of the finished gentleman. A few minutes sufficed for these compliments, and the ladies glided through a side door near the king an arrangement evidently made to allow those who were presented, to pass out of the regal presence without turning their backs on royalty, and they found themselves in the presence of the Duchesse de Berri and the dauphiness. It was difficult to realize so august a personage as the mother of the enfants de France in the little flaxen- haired duchess, who, with a robe of peasant brevity, was tripping about the room, displaying, with girlish coquetry, her only beauty, a pair of exquisitely-turned feet and ankles. These feet were immortalized in marble and bronze in shop windows and collections, and the originals were scrutinized by her visitors at the same moment that her eye-glass was levelled at their faces. The dauphiness sighed, as she looked on the lovely face and form of the blushing Constance. Alas ! the ill-starred daughter of Marie Antoinette never lost her consciousness of the instability of all that is bright A COURT AND A MINIATURE BALL. 135 and beautiful of all earthly grandeur and happiness. There she stood in quiet dignity, but always with that deep shade of sadness on her brow. She looked as one to whom the stormy and fearful past presented nothing that the light of memory could gild, and on whom the lurid future gleamed only as the lightning through the portentous thunder-cloud. The ceremony was brief, and the reception closed without farther incidents than those related. In sep- arating, the Princesse de P. again adverted to her miniature ball, for which all of the ladies were invited guests. The brief space that intervened between the begin- ning of the social season and Lent (when even the fashionable world in all civilized countries pays res- pect to that time-honored observance), crowded the gayety that might have sufficed for a year into a few weeks, and the Princesse de P. had been compelled to unite her bal cPenfants with the customary ceremony of her weekly reception. In consequence of this ar- rangement, there was a large number of persons pres- ent who came only to be amused spectators of the scene, without wishing or expecting, farther than this, to participate in the enjoyments of the miniature company of which tl*e ball was chiefly composed. It was delightful to witness the elastic joyousness of these happy creatures. Graceful as young fawns, and with all the pretty little elegancies of manner that distinguish the most elegant nation in the world, dressed with exquisite taste, and crowned and gar- landed with flowers, they looked as fresh and beau- tiful as those flowers. In a light more brilliant than 136 HOME AND THE WOULD. that of day, surrounded by the luxury of palace-like apartments, and with the inspiring aid of a band of the choicest musicians, the buoyant groups moved " on wings and on tiptoe." Many of them were thoroughly instructed in the art of Terpsichore, and were models of finished grace. Other tiny dancers, as merry though less accom- plished, joined their hands in what they called the petit rond, and gallopped round and round in de- lighted mirth ; and if occasionally the leaders in an- other band of the galopade made a faux pas and chanced to stumble, as not unfrequently happened, those following in heedless gayety behind fell over them, and the fun was redoubled by gleeful shouts and clapping of little hands. It was impossible for any heart, however cold and worldly, not to feel some emotion of sympathy and pleasure while looking on such a scene. The grave statesman unbent his brow and threw aside for the moment the load of care that weighed on it ; diploma- tists exchanged more frank and cordial salutations than their wont, and even ladies of fashion forgot their engagements for other places where they might act their part instead of being only quiet and almost unobserved spectators. Among the latter there was one lady, who had ensconced herself in the depths of a luxurious ber- gere, and, half sitting half reclining, looked carelessly through an opera-glass at the more distant parts of the charming picture. She was showily rather than tastefully attired, and a certain exaggeration of style in her appearance gave an indication of what she A COUKT AND A MINIATURE BALL. 137 might be in character and sentiment. This lady was addressed as Madame de St. Clair by the princess, who, in passing her, paused a moment. The lady rose with some unwillingness from her downy seat, but she did rise, as politeness required, to receive the gra- cious salutation of her hostess. " I do not perceive Mademoiselle de St. Clair here this evening," said the princess. "I hope she re- ceived our invitation." The remark was made in English. The lady re- plied in good French, but with a slight English accent, and colored as she said, " My daughter was much flattered by your very kind remembrance and invita- tion, madame, but I thought you might have forgot- ten that she is not quite young enough to profit by your amiable proposition." " She is then in society ? " inquired the princess. " Oh, no ! madame," replied the lady, quickly. " Nina is in reality a child. She is only fifteen ; but she has grown so very tall and womanly that even those who know me best are becoming quite sceptical about her age." The princess shrugged her fair shoulders almost imperceptibly, and passed on. She had seen the young daughter of Madame de St. Clair, and had been struck by her beauty. Indeed the invitation on the present occasion, though it included the mother, was intended for the daughter. She suspected, and not without reason, that the worldly and fashionable mother could not bear the thought of a rival in her daughter's charms, and that in her precocious growth and beauty, Nina would have been that rival. She 138 HOME AND THE WOBLD. could not have heard " sighs for a daughter, with un- wounded ear." Madame de St. Clair was one of those waifs on the ocean of fashion that had been brought from afar by the billows, and was resting on the edge of the beach, in apparent danger of being taken unwillingly back by the next ebb of the tide, or else remaining stationary until the light sparkling foam, that alone gave it beauty and interest among surrounding objects, should melt away beneath the sun, or be congealed by the gray frost of time. The sun and the frost had not yet come with burning heat and chilling blight to leave her desolate, as all are destined to be who are profoundly and invariably selfish, as she was. Had she been fifteen years younger, Madame de St. Clair would have been precisely in the position best suited for the heroine of a French romance, where lajeune veuve is always the chosen favorite for that most important character among the dramatis personse of the piece. But the charms of the splen- did widow were too completely matured by these un- lucky years, and it required all her tact and ingenuity to parry the advances of the dreaded monster, tune. Her figure was rather too tall and thin for the belle femme, which she now aspired to be, but a pair of very bright black eyes, and hair of jet in which she took good care never to permit a line of silver to be perceived, with symmetrical and regularly arched eye- brows of the same raven hue, contrasted well with a complexion of creamy whiteness, which, though called sallow in the day by malicious people, with a little adventitious aid looked brilliant in the becom- A COUET AND A MINIATURE BALL. 139 ing light thrown over it from the lustres of Parisian salons. The tact and ingenuity, that preserved her youth- ful appearance, had sufficed to introduce Madame de St. Clair to the beau monde ; and besides the advan- tages of these qualities, she possessed the additional one of the golden key, which sometimes admits strange visitors in great places. Her wealth was on the same splendid scale with her dress, her complexion, and her pretensions; for old Mr. Sinclair, besides the favor of making her his wife, added the still greater favor of making her his widow in a few years after she had bartered her liberty for his gold. Madame de St. Clair, as she now called herself, desired the past to be obliterated ; and but for " one fatal remembrance," her enjoyment of her position would have, been com- plete. This " bleak shade " crossed her mind occasionally in the thought of the tenure by which she held her ample jointure. The handsome widow had a daugh- ter, and her lord had made a will in favor of that daughter. The old father, foreshadowing the future, had indulged his eccentric humor in declaring it to be his last will that his wife should have the enjoy- ment of his wealth until the marriage of his daughter, when the whole property should be transferred to his darling Nina, not doubting, as the will intimated, that the deep and mutual affection of persons in so tender a relation would prevent any difficulty from arising between the mother and daughter. As a far- ther security for this good understanding on both sides, the will declared that, if Nina should marry 140 HOME AND THE WORLD. against her mother's consent, the whole property should revert to a distant relative of the testator. These singular provisions were, happily for Ma- dame de St. Clair, unknown to the world, and the secret was carefully kept from her daughter ; but her ingenuity, subtle as it was, could not suffice to conceal them from certain witnesses, who were only silenced by large sums sent and received, from time to time, without word or comment. The effect of the will was, as frequently happens, precisely the opposite of the testator's wish ; but as our story will develop its consequences, we will not anticipate the result. She had resumed her seat, and was levelling her glass at all that she deemed of any interest in the scene around her, when it fell upon an elegant young man, who had apparently just entered the room. His fine countenance beamed with an expression of be- nevolence, as he looked at the happy creatures en- gaged in their innocent sport, and he was so much occupied with them that he did not at once perceive the "nods and becks and wreathed smiles" which invited him to a nearer approach to Madame de St. Clair. At length she succeeded in attracting his at- tention, and by degrees, as the gracefully yielding throng permitted, he approached her. " It has been quite an age since I have seen you," she said, offering him her hand. " The gay season is half over, and you have been losing every thing. Where have you been all this time ? We could not afford to spare a personage so important to us as Mr. Reginald Villiers." A COURT AND A MINIATURE BALL. 141 This was said in French. As the princess had done, the young man seemed to take rather a ma- licious pleasure in replying in English. " Mr. Reginald Villiers has not quite so exalted an opinion of his importance," he said smiling, and passing over her question, in which, as he rightly supposed, she really felt very little interest, " and to judge of the past from the present, I should not imagine you had been very dull here. I have never been in a scene of more delightful gayety. Only look at that lovely little ' three year old ' couple, which a mischievous boy is linking together with the same garland of flowers, and that petit rond of bright little faces and shining locks ! What a pity it is that Rubens could not have had such models instead of making clumsy angels out of his own children ! " And he continued to find new objects of admiration through- out the bands of little dancers. " Yes, it is pretty enough," said Madame de St. Clair with a suppressed yawn, " but this sort of thing soon becomes tiresome. I hate children they make such an intolerable noise. It is impossible to have any rational conversation, where they are." " Hate children ! " Mr. Reginald Villiers was too polite to repeat the words, but his expressive eyes did. They conveyed the thought of his warm ingenuous heart, and there was something very like disgust almost visible in them. "Perhaps I ought not to have used quite so strong a word," said Madame de St. Clair rather apol- ogetically, "especially as it is fashionable now to play La bonne mere-, as the princess and some other 142 HOME AND THE WORLD. distinguished ladies are doing here to-night. There, is really a pretty child," she added, as if to efface the unpleasant impression she had made, by endeavoring to assume some interest in the little dancers. She pointed towards a lovely child of six years old, whose blue eyes and dimpled cheeks and golden ringlets we have seen, before her appearance at the bal d' enfant s of the Princesse de P. It was our own Alice. At that moment the little Alphonse, who was mas- ter of the ceremonies, sprung forward, exclaiming, " ah, my partner, you are then come at last ! " And seizing Constance eagerly by both hands, he led her into the midst of the tiny circle. The position was a conspicuous one, as there was no other young lady near her, yet she was perfectly self-possessed, for she felt at home, surrounded by sympathetic innocence and loveliness, and she joined in the dance with grace- ful ease, her radiant, happy smile, like a joyous sun- beam, dispensing pleasure wherever it lighted. Reginald looked at her with all his soul as well as his eyes. Was this the original of some portrait, of which he retained a vague recollection, or had he ever heard of some one who resembled this ideal of all he had ever imagined of the beautiful the happy the true ? " Who is that lovely creature ? " he almost invol- untarily exclaimed. Madame de St. Clair levelled her eye-glass at Con- stance. " It is doubtless the young Italian beauty of whom every body has heard, but nobody has yet seen," she A COURT AND A MINIATURE BALL. 143 replied. " You observe the Comte de Visconti and his nephew, Monsieur Victor Delorme, are near her, and looking at her with evident admiration." Reginald felt a chill of disappointment. The beautiful vision was still before him, but it had lost its most potent spell. " It is singular," he said, almost soliloquizing. " It must be fancy, but I have some vague idea that I have seen that young lady before, and that she is not Italian." " It must have been in a dream then," said Mad- ame de St. Clair, laughing, " for no one here has ever seen the Signorina Visconti before. With all your prepossessions in favor of the ladies you are so amiable as to call our belles compatriotes^ you will never find any among our very young ladies to compare with this beautiful signorina. Look at her air, her style ; every movement has the . natural expressive grace of her classic land of Italy. Look at her faultless toilette : that robe of pure transparent white, every fold in its right place, and fitting her round and slender waist to a charm ; every thing perfect, even to the delicate edge of lace and the single row of orient pearls, their whiteness blended and almost lost in the fairness of her neck. Look at the exquisite manner in which her fine hair is braided, with just enough of the blossoms of the eglantine to draw the eye by a natural transition from their color to her cheek, and tell me frankly if you have ever seen any thing to compare with her among your com- patriotes ? " The last part of her question was lost, for Regi- 144 HOME AND THE WORLD. nald had followed the strong bent of his own thoughts and wishes, and before the remarks of Madame de St. Clair were concluded, he had moved forward in the direction of the supposed signorina. It may easily be imagined that a spirited young man would not rest quite satisfied with such an in- definite assurance as that given by Madame de St. Clair of the identity of Reginald's beautiful dream with the Signorina Visconti. He was too much in- terested not to inquire more closely, and half an hour after Madame de St. Clair had given her very patriotic opinion on the merits of our ladies, she saw Reginald conversing with Constance, and a wonderful degree of frankness and unaffected cordiality seemed to characterize their first introduction. The supposed signorina was replying with an arch smile to some- thing Reginald had said to her, as Madame de St. Clair passed by them on her way out ; and this cir- cumstance, trifling as it was, sufficed completely to mystify her. She well knew that a young Italian lady, brought up in seclusion like that of a convent, would not dare to bestow a smile on any cavalier, es- pecially one young, handsome, and a stranger. But Reginald saw not the look of astonishment which Madame de St. Clair threw on him as she passed, nor did he see any thing in the room, in the house, in the world, but the beautiful creature before him. He was already ages in love. He looked at those eyes beaming with a thousand bright happy thoughts ; at that fair brow so placid and then so arch ; at the fairy dimples around the chiselled lip ; and each succeeding expression was more lovely than the last. A COURT AND A MINIATUEE BALL. 145 Constance saw only an elegant young man of whom she had often heard, who was associated with all her pleasant remembrances of home, and whose fine ex- pressive eyes were bent upon her with an admiration that a less keen perception would have found it dif- ficult to misunderstand. As Madame de St. Clair passed, they were speak- ing of home of Vivian, of Evelyn ; and the arch smile accompanied the confession, that Constance had until the present moment believed or affirmed Reginald was only a being of Evelyn's fancy, and had always contended that he was a myth. CHAPTER XH. REMINISCENCES FOE THE DILETTANTI. THE Palais Royal, or the Palais National, or the Palais Imperial, as it is called by turns, at the period to which our story refers, was altogether different from what it has ever been since. The mere traveller, or the temporary sojourner in the great metropolis of France, regards the Palais Royal only as a curious collection of shops, where every thing may be bar- gained for and bought, perhaps cheaper than else- where, because the articles so lavishly and osten- tatiously displayed are generally of a more showy and less substantial quality than those of more regular establishments, as the place where the Trois Freres provenqaux hold their court, dispensing costly luxu- ries in all the delicacies in and out of every season, indicated by the colossal fruits always displayed at the windows, or they have seen it, until very recently, a place of exposition publique for any thing to be exhibited, especially an annual show of enormous collections of pictures, each worse than the other, or if a few gems might be found among them, they REMINISCENCES FOR THE DILETTANTI. 147 appeared as would " two grains of wheat in a bushel of chaff." At the period of our narrative, the Palais Royal was a magnificent ducal residence. Nominal royalty was at the Tuileries, the actual influence was at the Palais Royal. The Duke of Orleans, the wealthiest and most powerful subject in Europe, held his court, for such it might be called, at this princely palace which it had been his pleasure and pride to adorn, and it was a palace to live in as well as to look at, for art had been exhausted in giving it every comfort as well as every luxury. Envy was silenced by the conduct and deportment of his amiable consort and her lovely family consist- ing of eight children, the eldest of whom was the Due de Chartres, who had not attained his majority, but even at that youthful age giving, in his regal and gracious bearing, the indication of those amiable qualities that for a period, brief alas ! made him the pride and darling of France. He was of a noble height ; his clear blue eyes were expressive but calm, and the fairness of a complexion that might have been deemed effeminate was relieved by a light moustache, some shades darker than the chestnut brown of his hair. The two princesses, Louise and Marie, we have already adverted to as among the few specimens of youth and beauty permitted to find their way into the courtof the sovereign under the ancien regime / and their fair young faces among the aged courtiers, and time-faded or rouge-renewed beauties of the court, looked like roses surrounded by their attending thorns. 148 HOME AND THE WORLD. The sisters presented an entire contrast in person, though they were equally distinguished by the gentle graces of their manners. The elder, the Princess Louise, better known since as the Queen of Belgium, was a fair, the fairest, blonde. Soft blue eyes and hair of the lightest shade of golden brown accorded well with her delicate beauty. Her rounded form showed to most advantage in her evening costume, which admitted of a display of her exquisitely fair neck, and shoulders, and arms. The Princess Marie, whose talent in sculpture has rendered her one of the celebrites in that beauti- ful art, was, in coloring and figure, the exact opposite of her Hebe sister. Her slight form was taller, her complexion paler and less fair, her hair dark, and her dark eyes, shaded by long black lashes, were timidly cast down, as if her thoughts were often far away from the gay and brilliant scenes by which she was surrounded. The Princess Clementine was a beautiful child, with long flowing ringlets, a fine complexion, and an air that would have graced " the daughter of a hun- dred kings." Of the Dukes Nemours, Joinville, D'Aumale and Montpensier, the world has since so often heard, that it would appear like recalling the remembrance of a dream to say that the first was a fair-haired youth, small in stature but noble in bearing ; the second, a handsome dark-eyed boy, just preparing for his first marine expedition ; and the two last named, sprightly children who were encouraged in their visits to the drawing-room, to distribute rose-colored programmes REMINISCENCES FOE THE DILETTANTI. 149 for a concert or pay their compliments, by the kind- est and most indulgent of mothers. Such was the family by whom the Duke and Duchess of Orleans were surrounded ; and the bit- terest enemies, the most captious friends, have to- gether acknowledged that if a model par eminence of the domestic virtues had been sought for, it would have been found in this noble family. The position of the duke, at that period, was one for which the proudest monarch might advan- tageously have exchanged his royal state. Sur- rounded by every thing, within and without, that could make life beautiful, honored and caressed by all classes, the patron of the arts, and with a colossal revenue, increasing daily by judicious management, which enabled him to rescue genius from oblivion and poverty from despair, his influence was alike felt and seen by all. His court, for such it might be called, received daily accessions from different quar- ters ; and he was accused, whether justly or unjustly politicians and historians must determine, of fostering a spirit of discontent and faction in the numerous satellites who revolved by thousands in his brilliant orbit. Strangers were often honored by the notice of the princely duke, for he remembered, with kindness and gratitude, that in a time when he had been an exile and a wanderer in a foreign land, he had been taken to many hearts and homes. It was on the occasion of a large dinner party, to be succeeded by a concert, that Mr. and Mrs. Mel- ville and their daughter were favored by an invitation 150 JIO31E AND THE "WORLD. to the Palais Royal. Of the first part of the enter- tainment it would be superfluous to offer a descrip- tion, as it may be imagined by putting together all the appliances of ormoulu ornaments of classic form and el dorado brilliancy, heaps of massive and highly wrought gold and silver plate, the porcelain of Sevres, the crystal of Bohemia, garlanded with flowers or crowned with Hesperian fruits ; while all that the most dainty epicure could have demanded, in delicate viands or faultless wines, were proffered in unlimited profusion. Perhaps no more suitable place may present itself for the observation that in a city, which the gastro- nome finds his sybaritic paradise, the most elaborate and splendid dinner ever given never exceeds the limit of an hour and a half. Let those imitators who torment their wearied guests with sittings of three and four mortal hours of painful ennui, after appetite is satisfied and conversation exhausted, and who still persist in furnishing an interminable variety of un- tasted delicacies, served with funereal slowness, take a hint, if their eyes should ever chance to light on these pages. The invitations for the concert which succeeded the dinner were numerous, and many strangers were happy in finding their names on the list of distin- guished guests, for " there were giants in those days," and a concert was an event to be anticipated with no small pleasure. Will the dilettanti believe that the illustrious names of Pasta, Sontag, and Malibran Garcia, La- blache, Rubini, Santini, and most wonderful of all, REMINISCENCES FOB THE DILETTANTI. 151 Paganini, were all contemporary, and in the height of their glory at this precise period ? Yet if they will examine the musical records of the day, they will find that those distinguished votaries of the " heavenly maid," each name alone sufficing to fill a journal of art, sustained each other, and by their united genius produced results that the musical world never dream- ed of before, and seems not likely, from present ap- pearances, to realize again. The delighted audience "held their breath to hear " the superb basso of the great Lablache (who had not then attained the obesity which afterwards made him almost as remarkable as his voice of mu- sical thunder), united with the young pure soprano of Sontag. And Malibran, in the pride of her youth and beauty, with a voice alternately clear and high as a mocking-bird, and sinking to the richest and deepest contralto, her dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm, or shedding tears, real tears of tenderness, as she lost her own identity in the sentiments she expressed. And Paganini, with his dark mysterious face, that looked as if he had just invoked some magical spirit, now drawing from his wondrous violin strains of mirth that made the hearts around him dance with outbursting joy, and then reversing the instrument, reducing it to a single string, and letting loose the horse-hair of the bow until it floated like a cloud, bringing out from beneath it sounds that sometimes resembled the church organ, or still more wonderful, electrifying the audience by a sound like the deep wail of a bereaved mother, or a song as soft as her gentle lullaby to a sleeping infant. But why tantalize the 152 HOME AND THE WORLD. reader with such recollections ? We will not indulge them farther. It would be superfluous to say that the audience was charmed enchanted enthusiastic, and that at every interval the music allowed the gifted musi- cians received their rapturous plaudits, and from time to tune the encouraging compliments of the princely host and hostess. It was not necessary to be thoroughly skilled in music to understand and enjoy sounds that rivalled every thing expressive and beautiful in nature as well as art ; and a child of nature might have appreciated these great artists, as well as the amateurs and connois- seurs who were assembled on the occasion referred to. There are few young people of our day, possessing the advantages of an elegant as well as solid educa- tion, who have not made the discovery that the study of music to some extent in early life, as well as that of drawing, may have an important influence on the career of the man. The " eloquent orator " has often been heard to regret that his ear and voice had not been trained in childhood, and the mechani- cian, who finds his fingers unable to obey the quick impulses of his fertile brain, sighs as he lays down the pencil with which he wished to trace some idea that promised him success and fortune. Reginald Villiers was one of the audience at the concert, and one of those who had not held as naught the advantage of cultivating a taste for music. His object in his European tour had not been to kill time in idle frivolities or deeper dissipation, but to make every scene on which he entered, whether grave or REMINISCENCES FOB THE DILETTANTI. 153 gay, conducive to his improvement, mental or moral, and he entered on none that did not accord with the rational and manly course of conduct he had marked out as his chart. He was happy to avail himself of every favorable opportunity of studying the manners of the most elegant capital in the world, and profit- ing by that study as he did by other advantages. But on the present occasion it must be confessed that he had another object in view, and that the pleasure he experienced in receiving an invitation to the concert was greatly enhanced by the hope of see- ing again a face and form that had been interwoven with every thought since he had first seen them. He had fortunately been placed opposite to Con- stance, instead of being near her, as the entertainment did not admit of conversation, and he could watch the varying expressions of her countenance as she sympathized in the strains of deep tenderness or joyous mirth. Only once the eyes of Constance met his, and he fancied that she blushed ; but her atten- tion was again riveted on the musicians, and she looked toward him no more. The concert concluded, the company retired with- out the formality of a supper, an innovation as yet unknown. It would justly have been considered pre- posterous to offer so idle a compliment at ten or eleven o'clock to guests who had dined at six or seven. Reginald joined Mr. Melville's party as they re- treated to the ante-room where the carriages were announced. As may have been inferred from the interview of the preceding evening, which had awak- 7* 154 HOME AND THE WOELD. ened so much astonishment in Madame de St. Clair, he had already been presented. " Is there time left to call on Mrs. Belmont ? " in- quired Mrs. Melville, after Reginald had paid his de- voirs. " I have so often been compelled to decline her kind invitations lately, that I feel almost under an obligation at least to make her an apologetic visit of half an hour." " It is not eleven yet," replied Reginald, looking at his watch, " and there would be time between this and the ' witching hour,' for the half hour you pro- pose to bestow on Mrs. Belmont. There might be some danger of leaving the glass slipper there," he added with a smile, and glancing at Constance. " But as only a young prince could find it," re- turned Constance, laughing, " there is no danger ; for we are about to leave the only young princes I have ever seen, behind. I do not think the Due de Chartres will honor Mrs. Belmont's soiree." " Yet princes have been seen in stranger places," said Mr. Melville, " for if wealth and luxury consti- tuted all that they court, Mr. Belmont might easily command their society. His establishment is next in those qualities to the palaces here." Mr. Melville had not exaggerated the magnifi- cence of Mr. Belmont's establishment, the interior of Avhich, as well as its elaborately illuminated exterior, the party holding the consultation just recorded will soon see, as they determined on the visit of half an hour to Mrs. Belmont. But leaving them a few minutes time for the drive, which, as it was in the Chauss6e d'Antin, then in some of its grand hotels REMINISCENCES FOR THE DILETTANTI, 155 beginning to rival the noble Faubourg, it will not take them long to accomplish, a brief sketch may meantime be given of the inmates of the one they are about to enter. But Mr. Belmont and his family were people of too much consequence, at least in their own estima- tion, to be introduced at the end of a chapter. CHAPTER XIII. "GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!" MK. BELMONT could hardly call himself a citizen of any country, as he was, in the broadest meaning of the word, a cosmopolite, though he claimed affinity with many, and indeed he ought to have been grateful to all; for, far from finding the old adage true 'that " a rolling stone gathers no moss," he had gathered "moss," or what he valued more, money, in every nation in which he had sojourned, until his wealth had become a proverb. He was fond of magnificence and show, though often penurious, in the extreme, where he ought to have been liberal. But such was his ardent desire for distinction among the great and fashionable in society, that he relinquished, almost without a sigh, his grasp upon the thousands .daily required to support his splendid establishment. Mrs. Belmont was a quiet and rather a melan- choly looking person, who seemed to be quite out of place in her department, and she was always too happy to yield the pas to her daughter Almeria, who, without hesitation, assumed the reins of government in the household, and subjected every one in it, even Mr. Belmont himself, to her imperious domination. " GOLD ! GOLD ! GOLD ! " 157 Almeria Belmont had mistaken her vocation in endeavoring to present herself as a finical lady of fashion. Nature had designed her, if nature ever has such a design, for an actress ; for she was endowed with wonderful histrionic talent, which, having no other outlet, manifested itself in the facility with which she imitated, we may say mimicked, whatever peculiarities of voice or manner she perceived among those whom she classed among her " dear five hun- dred friends." Accustomed to indulge every caprice of her wayward fancy, she often "touched the brink of all we hate " by her wild and extravagant freaks ; but there was beneath all this a fund of cleverness, and occasionally some kindliness of nature, and some flowers of better growth which, though almost hidden among the weeds that had grown to rank luxuriance, might have bloomed, if these weeds could have been removed in tune. But the tares were daily growing taller and thicker, and the wheat was diminishing in proportion, until the apology, that " it is only pretty Fanny's way," hardly sufficed to justify her conduct to rational and sensible people. It was a matter of dispute whether she was hand- some or not, for her style of beauty, if such it could be called, varied with every new and fantastic dress it was her pleasure to assume, and this perpetual variety, though it must be confessed she managed it with artistic skill, was not calculated to please the re- fined Parisian taste, which admits of nothing but a chaste simplicity in the costume of young ladies. Sometimes she would appear arrayed in gorgeous silks or velvets, that would have done honor to her 158 HOME AND THE WORLD. grandmother ; anon she was to be seen like a sylph- ide, all gauze and flowers ; then in oriental magni- ficence blazing with jewels that a queen might have been proud to wear ; but always seeking something new, and throwing the carefully studied costume aside, as soon as it had performed its work of mys- tifying or astonishing society by its simplicity or its splendor. So much time and space have been devoted to its inhabitants, that an equally minute review of the es- tablishment itself might be tedious. It will suffice to give a single specimen of the furniture of the salon in the centre of the gorgeous suite of apartments where the company was assembled, from which the rest may be imagined. A divan of very large circumference occupied the centre of this lofty room, and was covered with the finest tapestry that the almost fabulous skill of Gob- elin work could supply. This divan surrounded a table composed of malachite, except the top, which was inlaid with Florentine mosaic of the rarest and costliest workmanship. In the centre of this table were three ormoulu cherubs, as large as life, with wings outspread, and supporting^ on their upraised hands, a large and magnificent corbeille crowned with flowers, which drooped over its sides in graceful pen- dant wreaths, and rose up in the centre, meeting a lustre of ormoulu filled with wax lights, that threw a flood of radiance over this model of art. After this specimen, it would be useless to speak of curtains of crimson velvet and gold, of Gobelin carpets, of endless mazes of mirrors; far less would there be " GOLD ! GOLD ! GOLD ! " 159 time to pause at the rich works of art in painting and sculpture, as well as objets de virtu, with which the apartments were profusely decorated. A favorite fancy of Almeria's merits attention, though it was one that she had copied, and which has since become too common to be remarked upon ; the music which gave life to the scene was placed behind a bower of freshly blooming flowers, large enough to have realized the idea of &fete champetre at Christmas. Almeria Belmont was seated on the divan, in the centre of the room, and by her side sat Madame de St. Clair. They were conversing with some anima- tion, for Madame de St. Clair seemed to be aroused from her usually assumed air of graceful languor, by the sallies of her companion; and, to judge from an occasional furtive glance, or almost imperceptible shrug, the " dear five hundred friends," then and there assembled, were not unfrequently the subjects of their discourse, as well as of merciless criticism. An elaborate study of Almeria's costume for the occasion had resulted, as too great an anxiety on the subject often does result, in an unfortunate selection. She had directed the celebrated Victorine to make three dresses of different colors, that she might de- cide definitively upon the exact color and shade suited to her complexion, though almost every tint of the rainbow had often before been put in requisition for this object. The usual tantalizing delay occurred; for what lady had not sometimes experienced the anxiety oc- casioned by the professed punctuality, if it could be called by such a name, of Mademoiselle Victo- 160 HOME AND THE WOULD. rine? The coiffeur had performed his part, to a miracle ; the toilette was completed, in every partic- ular except the robe ; but neither of the three dresses had arrived. Lights were blazing within and with- out the splendid establishment, and the suppressed sound of the musical instruments, as the artists ac- corded them, began to be heard in the apartments. The door-bell rang imperatively. Was it the ar- rival of the first of the invited guests ? No ! the dresses at last made their appearance, carried in tri- umphal procession by the obsequious attendants, in three gigantic band-boxes ; and were laid side by side, to invite the choice of the happy owner of such treasures. The white one was tried and rejected. It was too simple. One white dress looked like another, and, besides, white did not accord with her complexion, which was decidedly brunette. The rose might per- haps suit better, but the color was too pale, and the same objection applied to pale rose color as to white. The last one was tried. Like all the robes of the great mgdiste, it fitted to perfection. It was a bril- liant shade of yellow, elaborately ornamented, and the richness of the material gave it a heavier effect ; but there was novelty in it, for a young lady had never been seen in a similar one, and with a gorgeous parure of emeralds, Almeria determined that it should electrify the world of fashion. The fan a Vantique, the Brussels lace handkerchief, and a bouquet of the rarest and most costly flowers that art could produce from the treasures of nature, were successively presented by the officious hand- "GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!" 161 maidens, and Almeria descended to the receiving- rooms with delighted anticipation of the sensation her superb toilette would excite. As she passed mirror after mirror in walking through the long suite of rooms, each reflection of her image was less and less satisfactory to herself. The dress was rich and elegant, the emeralds a duchess might have envied ; but she had never in her own eyes looked less pleasing. She knew she was young ; she had at times thought herself handsome. She was tall and well made, her eyes were black and brilliant, and the color of the dress was not ill chosen for a dark complexion. But the freshness of youth, for her twenty-four years might still lay claim to that freshness, was hidden beneath the load of finery, and as she passed the last mirror, she would have given far more than the value of all three of her costly robes, if she had contented herself with the simple white one. It was now too late to remedy the mistake, and an uncomfortable consciousness of being unbecomingly attired crept over her spirits, and finished the unfortunate work of the toilette by giving to her countenance a restless and dissatisfied expression. The arrival of the numerous guests, with all their compliments on the elegance of the entertainment and the charms of the young hostess, for Mrs. Bel- mont pleaded indisposition and was absent, partially but not entirely restored her self-complacency, and as she seated herself on the divan by Madame de St. Clair, she anticipated more pleasure, than she had yet 162 HOME AND THE WOELD. enjoyed, ID the solace afforded by criticising their nu- merous acquaintance. In this amiable and pleasing occupation they were deeply engaged when Mr. Melville's party was an- nounced. ALmeria rose to welcome, them, but a bitter pang of envy shot through her soul, like an envenomed dart, as her eye rested on Constance. Constance was again attired in the pure white dress, though the practised eye of Madame de St. Clair perceived at a glance that it was not the same she had worn the preceding evening. But it was characterized by all which that lady had triumphantly pointed out to Reginald as distinguishing the charms of the Signorina Visconti. The same faultless purity that she had so much eulogized, was again observable in it, every fold in its right place, and fitting to a charm. The white flowers that ornamented, without too much concealing, her fine hair, were interwoven with a few forget-me-nots, their delicate blue, as well as a bracelet of blue enamel* and pearls, pleasingly contrasted with her pure complexion. Above all, the expression of her sunny eyes, and the unaffected grace which distinguished every movement, completed the charm of her appearance. Almeria caught a glimpse of her reflected image by the side of this angelic looking creature, and she felt at that moment as if she could have torn away the massive ornaments that loaded her brow, her neck and arms, and thrown them from her in disgust. But such an exhibition of mortified vanity would have been worse than ridiculous, and she was com- " GOLD ! GOLD ! GOLD ! " 163 pelled to " smile and smile," with the viper of jealousy gnawing at her heart. This feeling was not diminished when Reginald was announced with Mr. Melville's party. It was not the first tune Almeria had seen him, and whenever she had met with him in society, it happened that some criticism or sarcasm in which she indulged, met with a brilliant rejoinder and repartee from him, and this, while it piqued, had interested her. She had a long list of admirers, and her vanity might have been content with the number, and, in some instances, the names of those who wore her chains ; but she had wit enough to perceive that the chains would not have been borne so willingly if they had not been made of gold, and she secretly sighed for something that gold could not buy, the sympathy of a heart more true and noble than those daily laid at her feet, which she declared her vision was not microscopic enough to see. There was no hope of weaving the golden net around Reginald, for fortune had favored him too far for her to build her hopes on this glittering but false foundation. Yet she hoped, for every vain woman can find some ground for hope, if she permits her fancy to dwell continually upon a handsome young man. But this fatal evening seemed to come as a blighting frost upon these hopes, and she looked upon the white-robed Constance as she would have done upon a snow wreath falling upon her budding flowers, chilling and perhaps extinguishing their early life. But no such flowers had ever budded in the true 164 HOME AND THE WORLD. and noble heart she would have given all her jewels to captivate, and that " pearl of price," for which she would willingly have exchanged all her own, was in better keeping than hers. Almeria Belmont was the last person hi the world to please a taste as pure, and almost fastidious, as that of Reginald Villiers, and he had always so sedulously avoided her, and the atten- tions she found means to place in his way, that she might have suspected, though her vanity as well as his politeness blinded her to the sober truth, which was that he detested her. Madame de St. Clair made room for the newly arrived guests upon the luxurious divan ; and polite- ness demanded the particular attention of Almeria to her lovely rival, as she regarded Constance. Her jealousy was farther stimulated by the discovery that the gentle young girl had a wit as keen as her own, though chastised by modesty and kindness of heart, and that the shafts of her ridicule or malice would fall as harmlessly by her, as if they had been aimed at an adamantine shield. With her skill as a practised actress, she changed her tone of masculine levity, and assumed all the feminine grace of a young novice in the world. Con- stance, was partially, but not entirely, deceived, she had never seen Almeria before. Reginald looked with surprise at the metamorphosis, but it only steeled his heart more completely to any influence she might have hoped to exercise upon him. The half hour allotted for the visit soon passed away, and Mrs. Melville rose to depart. " We shall meet at the Spanish ambassador's "GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!" 165 ball next Sunday, I hope," said Madame de St. Clair. " No, I have declined the invitation," replied Mrs. Melville. "Declined the invitation!" exclaimed Madame de St. Clair with surprise, " why it will be the bouquet of the whole season, the most brilliant entertainment ever seen hi this brilliant metropolis. What can be the cause of your disappointment ? " " A very simple one," said Mrs. Melville, " I do not go to balls on Sunday." Madame de St. Clair shrugged her shoulders. She was evidently curious to know whether the real cause had been assigned for this strange determination. " Perhaps," she said, forgetting in her curiosity the impertinence of the suggestion, " your invitations may have been mislaid. I think it may be best to inquire." " Pardon me," said Mrs. Melville smiling. " I have not only received my invitations, but the Com- tesse d'Ofalia has honored me with some blank ones for my friends, so that I shall be compelled, if I am catechized about it, honestly to confess the truth." Almeria looked after Mrs. Melville as she retired. " How very absurd ! " exclaimed Madame de St. Clair. "Absurd? yes, no," replied Almeria, absent- ly, " except that honesty and truth are always absurd in what we call society. But I wish we had more of them. I am sick of compliments of deceit of the world of myself of every thing ! " " Why, how pettish you are this evening, ch6rie ; * 166 HOME AND THE WORLD. you are quite a different being from what you were half an hour ago." There was an insinuation in this remark on the part of her friend that displeased Almeria. She rose and made politeness a pretext for following Mrs. Mel- ville to the last room in the suite. The carriages had been announced, and Reginald was about to take his departure also. Almeria affected to misunderstand his intention. " Mr. Villiers," she said with gentle hesitation, " Madame de St. Clair has requested me to ask the pleasure of your company a moment, as she informs me she has satisfactory information about the picture in which you expressed so much interest. You will then, I hope, pardon the liberty of hostess I assume in asking you to attend her to supper." And with a thousand pretty regrets and adieus to Mrs. Melville and Constance, she glided back among her guests and to the divan. Reginald was half tempted to disobey the mandate, but such a step would have been an offence against all the rules of civilized society, and after proffering the useless services of a cavalier to ladies completely at- tended, and exchanging a courteous " good night," he was compelled to return to the salon, where he found Madame de St. Clair and Almeria together. " We were discussing the merits of the party with whom you came," said Madame de St. Clair to Regi- nald, as he approached her, " and I should like to hear your opinion." " They have then, as Sir Peter Teazle would say, left their characters behind them, I presume," said " GOLD ! GOLD ! GOLD ! " 167 Reginald, " for I think I have formerly heard some animated discussions on similar subjects, in the so- ciety in which I have the honor to find myself at present." " Oh shocking ! " exclaimed Madame de St. Clair. " Why, you and Almeria are perfectly savage to- night." Almeria rose and made a courtesy of acknowledg- ment. Reginald bowed. " We are very grateful for the compliment,'.' she said, "but Mr. Yilliers has not yet answered your question." " I have sojourned too long in this metropolis," said Reginald smiling, " not to know that it is dan- gerous to tell one lady what I think of another. If you include Mr. Melville in your catechism, I will give you a quaint answer made long ago, but a worthier one than any I can devise I should say, ' that he is a gentleman steady in his principles, of nice honor, with abundance of learning : brave as the sword he wears, and bold as a lion : a sure friend, and a man who would lose his life readily to serve his country, and would not do a base thing to save it.' " He spoke with enthusiasm, and Almeria sighed. Reginald had given an unconscious sketch of his own feelings and character. How different from the im- perceptible hearts she daily rejected, was this noble one! " This sounds finely," said Madame de St. Clair, " but the merit would depend on the country that one is to serve or save. If it is the odious one that Chris- topher Columbus found out, I think it neither worth serving nor saving, and it would have been much 168 HOME AND THE WORLD. wiser in Queen Isabella to have reserved her patron- age for a better purpose than encouraging such a dis- covery. But here is the Comte de B . He will give us an impartial opinion on the merits of Miss Mel- ville." And she laid her white-gloved hand tenderly on his arm. The count took the hand and pressed it, but seemed rather at a loss what to do with it afterwards, for he was a man more of letters than society. He had recently made the acquisition of English, to aid him in his literary researches, and his manner of speaking the language, while studiously correct, was so precise and pedantic that it was ludicrous in the extreme. Almeria, who never lost an opportunity of ridicule and sarcasm, especially when a dear friend could be made the object, was evidently grati- fied that the count should address all his remarks to Madame de St. Clair in her despised vernacular, in- stead of his graceful French. " I am hardly prepar-ec? to express an opinion," he replied, " but as the young lady pass-eel us, she appear- ed to me very distinguish-^. Yet I have not avail-ec? myself of the opportunity allow-ec? me, to form a decid-ec? judgment." "The reason you have assign-e^, Monsieur le Comte," said Almeria, casting down her eyes with an air of timid hesitation and modesty, " is one we should have consider-ec? conclusive. We should have been compell-ec? to renounce the opinions we had form-ec? on the subject, if yours had differ-ec? from our own." Reginald was astonished that the cool imperti- " GOLD ! GOLD ! GOLD ! " 169 nence of this mockery should not have been detected, but happily for Almeria the count did nbt perceive it, and passed on with an amiable bow and smile. " Almeria ! " exclaimed Madame de St. Clair, red- dening with anger, " this passes all limits. The Comte de B is a particular friend of mine, and it is in- tolerable to see him ridiculed to his face ! " "And it is precisely because you have ascrib-ec? that title to him," returned Almeria, laughing, " that I amus-ec? myself, and fear-ec? not, but push-ed my re- mark to the verge of impertinence, that his friend might be amaz-ec?, vex-ec?, annoy-et? and enrag-ec? at the wit I reveal-ec7." Madame de St. Clair was too angry to remonstrate. She rose and walked to the supper-room. Almeria followed her, still laughing. " I have vow-ed that I will not be quarrel-ec? with," she said, " and as I have perceiv-e<# that you are dis- tress-ec?, the subject shall be dropp-ed and dismiss-ec?. You shall be cajol-et7, caress-ec?, kiss-e<7, and charm-ec?, until the evil spirit in me is exorcis-ec7, and the count aveng-ec?." Reginald found himself compelled to escort Mad- ame de St. Clair to the supper-room ; but once ar- rived there, he found an acquaintance to whom he delegated his office, and to the great disappointment of Almeria, when her friend returned to the salon, she was accompanied by another escort. The cavalier she had hoped to delay by her ingenious expedient had passed quietly through a side-door in the supper- room, and made his escape. 8 CHAPTER XIV. THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. THE few last chapters having been exclusively oc- cupied with the gay and brilliant scenes of society, it may have been imagined that Mr. Melville and his family had followed the example often set by the strangers who flock to this seductive metropolis, and that they had left all serious thoughts behind them, to be resumed at "a more convenient season." This would be doing them great injustice ; for while they accepted the elegant hospitalities amiably and gra- ciously extended to them, and while they availed themselves of every suitable occasion to gratify a rational curiosity in seeing all that would liberalize the mind or cultivate the taste, they found such a course not inconsistent with holier and more impor- tant duties. One of their first inquiries on their arrival in the capital was for a place of worship, and three were in- dicated. All honor be ascribed to the piety of that nation which has established these chapels throughout the continent of Europe ! Amid the gorgeous cathe- drals of cities, in remote districts, in the region of the THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 171 snow-clad Alps, these temples rise, inviting the sym- pathizing stranger to their courts, and offering wells of " living water " to quench the thirst of the wearied pilgrim hi life's wilderness, like the " streams in the desert." At this epoch, one of these chapels was to be found in the midst of a large garden in the Champs Elys6es. It had once been dedicated to a less holy purpose, for the garden had been a resort of pleasure, and the chapel a public ball-room. But pious hands had wrought a change there which is sometimes seen in the human heart, and all that was beautiful was dedicated to holy purposes, renewed and changed, but not destroyed. The garden had been carefully preserved, and gave an air of seclusion to the spot, that was doubly grateful in escaping from the noisy gambols of the throngs who make the day designed to be one of holy rest, a day of ceaseless and tumult- uous excitement, which they miscall pleasure. It was a strange transition in turning from the avenue of the Champs Elysees, where thousands of people were driving or walking, where itinerant con- fectioners and mountebanks were blocking up the passage of brilliant equipages or gay young horsemen, where mimic ships were sailing on imaginary waves in the air, or regiments of soldiers, preceded by mili- tary bands, were marching in long array, to take refuge in this peaceful spot, and shut the door upon the rushing torrent of life without. In this quiet sanctuary Mr. Melville and his family found a resting-place and a home for the devotional hours of each Sunday, and the pleasing aspect of the 172 HOME AND THE WORLD. young pastor, Mr. Montague, gave them promise of an interesting addition to their society. Their con- stant attendance at his chapel awakened the wish, on his side, of forming their acquaintance, and he called with Mrs. Montague to pay his respects. Mr. Melville's family were absent on the morning of their visit, but the call was promptly returned. On inquiring for Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Melville was informed that Mrs. Montague was indisposed. The next day, and the next, inquiries were made. " She was ill very ill, was the reply. Sunday came, and the pastor was replaced by another. The mournful countenances of his sympathizing flock revealed the sad truth. He had just received the last breath of his sainted partner she was dead ! The second Sunday after this melancholy event, the young pastor was again in his accustomed place, though his pale cheek and dimmed eye showed but too plainly the sufferings he had undergone in that terrible interval. He looked composed and resigned ; but during his discourse the fortitude of the Christian yielded for a moment to the weakness of nature ; and when a lovely infant bearing his own features in min- iature was brought to the font to be baptized, the sympathy of the whole assembly manifested itself in tears and even sobs. With an effort almost convulsive, he recovered his firmness and voice, and as with a flushed cheek and tearful eye he pronounced the words " Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord ! " his hearers felt that it would be almost sinful to regret the early departure of this young saint, who had thus been enabled to THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 173 fortify her dearest earthly friend, and lead him to submit without a murmur to the heaviest of afflictions, in assuring him that she was only " going to prepare a place for him." Thus vanished the hope Mr. Melville and his family had entertained of forming a friendship that might have grown to intimacy; for after a few months' trial, the position, with its associations, be- came too painful to be endured, and Mr. Montague, finding that his health was failing, resigned his charge to another, and left the metropolis. The events recorded in these three pages had occupied three months, for that space of time had elapsed since Mr. Melville and his family first sought out Mr. Montague's chapel, and formed his acquaint- ance. His farewell visit had just been paid, and a fervent English " God bless you ! " exchanged. Mrs. Melville and Constance, saddened by the recollection of his sorrows, as well as their own deprivation in the loss of his society, were sitting together in the room which was habitually, at that hour, dedicated to the instructions of Madame Laval. Madame Laval, always punctual to the moment, came at her appointed tune ; but a single glance at her usually bright face told that, instead of bringing with her cheerfulness and consolation, she was even sadder than themselves, and that something had evidently occurred to agitate and grieve her. The recitations of her pupils were completed ; and until this morning, a gay and animated conversation had always succeeded these exercises, forming the most agreeable as well as instructive part of her lessons. 174 HOME AND THE WOULD. She tried evidently to rally her spirits for the effort, but in vain. At length the exertion on her part be- came manifestly so painful, that Constance felt im- pelled to relieve her from it. " I fear you are not so well as usual this morning, ch6re madame," she said rather timidly, for she was apprehensive that there might be some cause for the agitation she perceived, which Madame Laval would be unwilling to reveal, and that her allusion to it might be indiscreet. Madame Laval made a faint effort to smile ; the exertion was too much, and she burst into tears. Constance was shocked: she rose, and taking Madame Laval's hand in both hers, with a look of affectionate sympathy, asked her pardon for the indis- cretion which had apparently awakened a sorrow she wished to remain unrevealed. Little Alice nestled to her side, and looked wistfully in her face, with her blue eyes filled with sympathetic tears. Madame Laval with a strong effort recovered her composure. She kissed the pearly drops away from the blue eyes, and returned the kind pressure of the hands that caressed hers. " I am almost ashamed," she said, " to show such weakness, but the tears I could not repress were not shed for any grief of my own. I have just witnessed a scene so heart-rending, that I should be almost afraid to portray it to imaginations so lively, and hearts so tender as yours. Yet it may be the will of heaven to alleviate the sufferings I have just seen, by describ- ing them to you." "I should deeply regret, madame," said Mrs. THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 175 Melville, "that my daughters should be deterred from listening to a tale of distress, because their sensi- bilities might be wounded by it. I think you may trust Constance, for there would be little good done in the world, if we were not in early life to have our sympathies awakened, however painfully. This ex- treme of sensibility is too often a plausible pretext for shrinking from an imperative duty." Thus encouraged, and perceiving that Constance was deeply interested in the communication she felt disposed to make, Madame Laval replied, " I know not indeed if it is not an imperative duty to mention the circumstances that affected me so powerfully ; but to justify myself entirely, I should be compelled to give a brief history of the persons to whom these circumstances relate." " We shall listen with all our hearts as well as our ears," said Constance, " if you will oblige us by the recital, madame. I think you owe me some repara- tion for supposing me too sensitive." " My story is very simple as well as very sad," said Madame Laval, " and there are probably many sufferers in this great city, at the present inclement sea- son, who might tell one of almost equal misery. But it happens that I have for some years known the persons to whom mine relates, and this is one reason that I was so much overcome by unexpectedly finding them in the most deplorable state of poverty and wretchedness." " As long as six years ago, I knew a pretty modest girl, Sophie by name,. who became suddenly an or- phan, and was left destitute of all except the excellent 176 HOME AND THE WORLD. principles she had received from her worthy parents. She gratefully accepted the offer made her to ac- company a lady of our acquaintance to her chateau in the neighborhood of Geneva. During the sojourn of the family with whom she was living at this place, Sophie became acquainted with a young gardener who assisted in cultivating and embellishing the extensive grounds of the chateau. The friendship formed be- tween them soon ripened into a stronger feeling, the acquaintance became a suitor, and Antoine, the young gardener, was in due time the proud and happy hus- band of the pretty Sophie. " Their marriage was apparently sanctioned by the wealthy proprietors, but from some cause which has never been explained, Sophie was soon dismissed, and Antoine, without receiving any excuse or indem- nity for the caprice, was advised by Mr. Belmont, the proprietor of the chateau, to quit his service at Ge- neva, and to seek his fortune in Paris. The know- ledge and experience Antoine had acquired in his beautiful art, enabled him for some time to succeed tolerably well. Sophie conducted herself with ex- emplary propriety, and became the mother of four children, the second-born twins. Their cares thus increased, it became difficult to maintain themselves, but they struggled bravely on until the beginning of this terrible season, when poor Sophie became the mother of her fourth child, and her husband fell ill of a rheumatic fever, in consequence of attempting work to which he was unaccustomed. Despairing of his regular vocation from the continued falls of snow, while the gardens he had been accus- THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 177 tomed to tend were buried, and his patrons lent an unwilling ear to his tale of distress, he sought occu- pation in joining the thousands of poor, who for a miserable pittance were daily employed in clearing the streets of snow. This was the cause of the severe illness which exhausted all his little earnings, as well as those of his young wife. " Their scanty stock of furniture was sold piece by piece, their wardrobe went next, and on inquiring for them this morning, I found they had been turned from the humble though decent lodging in which I had last seen them. I traced them from place to place, and at last found them. Oh what a scene of destitution and misery met my sight ! Sophie and her four little ones were huddled together in a small dark cellar room, the walls actually streaming with mois- ture. Her eldest girl, a child of five years old, was holding the baby on her lap, and with precocious skill and tenderness, endeavoring to lull its feeble cries. The other little ones how proud the mother had been of her twin boys ! were spreading their chilled hands over the blackened ashes of what had once been a fire hi the desolate hearth. " Poor Sophie was lying on a heap of straw, cover- ed with an old blanket. She looked deadly pale, and neither spoke nor moved, until I appoached her and took her hand. She looked up wistfully, and closed her eyes again. The story that glance told was dread- ful, she was perishing with want ! " At that moment Antoine entered. I hardly took tune then to remark what I have since often thought of, his haggard wild expression, but putting money 8* 178 HOME AND THE WOELD. into his hand, bade him hasten with all speed to the nearest magazine for wood to make the fire, telling him that I would return instantly with food. I flew to the nearest baker and provided myself with bread, next with a bottle of good wine, and the butcher with whom I deal, happily lived in that neighborhood. The good man was busily occupied in decking his fat sirloins with artificial flowers for the approaching carnival, but he gave a ready ear to my sad tale, and supplied me with some of his finest chops, as well as a good piece of the carnival beef, lent me a large basket in which to bestow my treasures, and granted me, moreover, the services of his boy to carry it for me. To these I added another bottle containing milk for the famishing babe, and returned with all the haste that a nervous tremor permitted. " Happily a marmite and a gridiron had been saved from the wreck of all their household and kitchen furniture. I found that Antoine had been faithful to my instructions, and on my return a fire was blazing in the hearth, so that our united exertions soon prepared a comfortable meal. I cannot describe the sensations of happiness and gratitude I felt when I saw these poor creatures gradually reviving under the influences of warmth and wholesome food. They submitted more readily to my advice than I could have imagined possible, in partaking sparingly at first of the food I had brought them, but I took the precaution of plunging my large piece of beef into the marmite and filling it with water, lest they should be too much tempted to devour it, before the nourishing soup could be made, on which I depended for their next meal. THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 179 " Thus I relieved them for the moment, but they are still in that wretched cellar, and grim famine, though banished for the present, is still prowling around their door. My slender means did not admit of more than temporary relief for them, and I re- volved in my mind all the plans I could devise for their assistance." " I should not suppose that it would have required a moment's reflection," said Constance. " Mr. Bel- mont, with his princely wealth, will be only too happy to relieve poor Antoine and his family, especially as they were once in his service." "The idea is a natural one," replied Madame Laval, "and as such I acted on it without a mo- ment's hesitation. As soon as I saw the sufferers restored to some degree of comfort, I went directly to Mr. Belmont's hotel, and happily found entrance. Miss Belmont was just stepping into her chariot, and seemed very impatient of detention, but I insisted on giving her the particulars I have detailed to you, though as briefly as possible." " ' Indeed, Madame Laval,' she replied pettishly, wheri I had concluded, 'it is impossible for me to wait and listen to all these sorts of things. I have an appointment with Victorine this morning to try some dresses for the Princess V s fancy ball, and I can- not be detained longer.' " I answered that I had no wish to detain her, but that I hoped she would provide me with the means of relieving so much wretchedness out of her super- abundant wealth ; and I added that if this unfortunate family could only receive sufficient assistance to get 180 HOME AND THE WOULD. through the winter, they could then earn a livelihood. I said that I would call and see her when she returned from her morning engagement." " ' Oh pray don't ! ' exclaimed Miss Belmont hasti- ly, i I shall be out all the morning, and there will hardly be time to dress for a dinner party we have to- day. Papa is at home, ask him about it.' And wav- ing her hand impatiently to the footman who stood awaiting her orders, she was whirled off in an instant. " With a heavy heart I ascended the great mar- ble stairway, for I had a presentiment of failure, after this first experiment. Mr. Belmont was within, as his daughter had said, but made an evident effort to escape as I entered the room where he was standing. He closed his lips more firmly, and knitted his brows, as I repeated my story to him. "'Antoine has no business here,' he said. 4 He should have remained in his own country.' " I did not venture to hint the truth, which was that the poor fellow had been influenced by Mr. Bel- mont's advice in coming to Paris, and only pleaded that even if the charge of imprudence was just, he and his family were perishing with misery and ^ant. " ' The government must take care of its pau- pers,' was the cold reply. 'It is not my affair. If I had listened to all such tales, I should be a pauper myself. Besides, I do not like these fine lady ways of raising money for the poor. When I give any thing, it must pass through the hands of responsible men.' " The insinuation," continued Madame Laval, "was so broadly insulting, that it left me no alternative, THE PASTOR AND HIS FAMILY. 181 and I indignantly quitted the house. The cruelty of this hard man, and the painful scene I had just witnessed, must together plead my excuse for the weakness I have perhaps too plainly manifested." " Your sensibility and indignation do you honor, madame," said Mrs. Melville, " and I assure you we sympathize in both ; but this will not advance the cause you have so nobly espoused ; we must see what can be done. I imagine I have rather more reason for the apprehension of Mr. Belmont, than he has with his millions, especially as the charity fund I laid aside in the beginning of this terrible sea- son has long ago been exhausted ; but we must make some sacrifices for your proteges. Have you nothing to propose, my daughter ? " Constance had been in a deep reverie for a few minutes. Her mother had evidently divined her thoughts, for she replied, u Yes, I have something to propose. I will give up the fancy bah 1 of the Princess V., and devote the sum that my dress would have cost, to this poor family." The fancy ball of the Princess V. had occupied ah 1 the brilliant circles of the metropolis with gossip and anticipation, for a month past. The Carnival was at hand, and the last days immediately preceding the sol- emn season of Lent were characterized by a more frenzied gayety than usual. While the common class- es of people were amusing themselves with leading the boeuf gras, garlanded with flowers, through the streets ; while maskers and mummers, in patches and paint, ribbons and streamers, were parading in open carriages through the Boulevards, or assembling at 182 HOME AND THE WOULD. the tumultuous and riotous masked balls of the opera ; the more fastidious, but not less self-indulgent, ranks of society were imbibing their draughts of fashionable pleasure through the " golden tube of polite refine- ment," and luxuriating in such scenes as the splendid fancy ball promised by the Princess V. Constance had never seen a fancy ball, and her curiosity was naturally excited. Besides, her young friends daily expatiated on the charms of her intended costume. How lovely she would look in the bergere Pompadour style, half marquise, half shepherdess ! the fantasie so successfully revived by Marie An- toinette. It required no small effort to renounce such a pleasure, but she made it bravely. Mrs. Melville rose, and kissed her daughter's fair brow. '' You act wisely and well, my child," she said, " and your resolution gives me sincere pleasure, in more ways than one. I wished you to decide this matter for yourself, and I do not doubt that you would have found the happiness you anticipated far less than what you experience at this instant in re- nouncing it." Madame Laval was pouring forth her acknowl- edgments of this kindness, and her admiration of the noble resolution of Constance, when it happened that, at this opportune moment for strengthening all his prepossessions and increasing his admiration, already too great for his peace of mind, Mr. Reginald Yilliers was announced, and entered the room. His visits had now become almost daily, and though no exact explanation of his feelings had been made, every THE PASTOK AND HIS FAMILY. 183 glance of his expressive eyes had revealed his yet untold love. He was happy in the thought that he was understood, and waited until time should more fully confirm the sentiments he trusted were awa- kened hi the heart of the loved one, before he made a declaration of his passion. It needed not the ready tact of Madame Laval to interest him in the story of Antoine. It was enough for him that Constance had listened to it, and was ready to make such a sacrifice as the one which Ma- dame Laval was extolling. " I am afraid," he said aside to Constance, " that I shall merit little praise for my disinterested generos- ity, if I dedicate my Marquis costume to the same ob- ject, for, since you decline going, I have not the least wish to see the PrincessV.'s ball." He took from a rouleau of gold twenty louis-d'or, and, presenting them to Madame Laval, said play- fully, " If the embroidered coat and point-lace ruffles of a marquis are as acceptable to a lady, as the dress bergere Pompadour of a marquise, I pray you to appro- priate mine, for the benefit of these poor sufferers." Madame Laval was entreated, on all sides, not to waste a moment in thanks, but to hasten as quickly as possible on her errand of mercy. With the aid of her active exertions, Antoine and his family were removed that very day from their miserable cellar, and transferred to a small but decent lodging, in a healthy quarter. Their furniture and wardrobe, which had been pawned, were quickly redeemed, and they found themselves suddenly raised from the most abject wretchedness to comparative affluence. The sums 184 HOME AND THE WOELD. economized upon the two fancy ball dresses, thus am- ply sufficed for the humble wants of these poor peo- ple until the return of spring, when they had reason to hope that their honest labors might be crowned with success. The day following these events, Antoine begged permission to accompany Madame Laval in her usual visit, to express his gratitude to his young benefac- tress. He was still pale and haggard, but he was cleanly dressed, and had evidently taken special pains to make himself presentable. On entering the room where Constance was sitting alone, he remained mod- estly standing near the door, and looked earnestly at her, until his eyes filled with tears, that found their channels in his hollow cheeks. " You have been the good angel you look like, young lady," he said, his voice choking with strong emotion. " You have saved a family from famine, and an immortal soul from perdition! May that God who has rescued me, through your goodness, from misery and crime, ever watch over and bless you ! " CHAPTER XV. A MASQUERADE. " THERE was a sound of revelry by night." Not the joyous and light-hearted mirth that invites the young, the gay, the careless to its jocund merriment, but that frenzied gayety which often serves as a cloak to hide the scorpion passions stinging the breast with- in, while the lips smile and smile again, as if in derision of their own mockery. But amid the mad orgies of a bal masque de V opera, there needed no such smiles, if they suited not the taste and temper of those who participated in the scene. The faces were concealed by those varied and unnatural masks, which seemed to have taxed all the ingenuity of their contrivers to render them as gro- tesque, as strange, as wild as the tumultuous revel in which they were so conspicuously displayed. Turks, Jews, and Arabs, the Chinese and Esqui- maux, Franciscan monks in sackcloth, Lady Abbesses with rosaries, imps and angels, women in sailors' cos- tume, and men in the guise of women, all were mingled together in the fury of the dansomania, which was fast rising to its greatest height. 186 HOME AND THE WOKLD. Amid this innumerable and ever-increasing throng, whose uproarious propensities seemed only repressed by their awe of the gens d'armes stationed at intervals throughout the scene of action, and who were invested with authority to banish such of this goodly assembly as should in their opinion pass the prescribed limits of decorum, were seen two young men, simply con- cealed from the gaze of the multitude by the ordinary disguise of a black domino. They had retired a little from the crowd, which they were surveying through their opera glasses, though they seemed only for a moment at a time, to enter into the spirit of the scene. Apparently their thoughts and conversation were engaged on graver topics. " La messe et la chasse ! Victor," said one of these young men to his companion, as they were approached by a monk of La Trappe arm in arm with an outlaw of Sherwood forest dressed in Lincoln green with baldric and bugle. " La messe et la chasse ! our worthy sovereign Charles X. should certainly be here to behold these superb representatives of his favorite occupations." " I must beg leave to differ with you in opinion, citizen," said a mask standing near, and availing him- self of the license permitted on these occasions to join in the conversation. " I must beg leave to differ with you as to the propriety and expediency of introducing majesty among us at a moment when pleasure should reign supreme. For my own part, I am too happy for once to be relieved from the presence of royalty." " Apropos of royalty," interposed another member A MASQUERADE. 187 of this select company, who had imagined the quaint device of investing his person in a huge balloon of striped green silk, emulating a gigantic melon, while his red vest appearing through an opening in front was garnished with shining black buttons resembling the seeds of the ripe fruit ; " a propos of royalty, have either of you attended the exposition of manu- factures that took place this morning ? Par bleu ! I wonder that a cook had the spirit to run himself through with a sword instead of his spit, without the provocation of insult or injury, and only because he could not serve majesty with fish, in the days of the grand monarque, and that I, Jean Ferron, should have made up my mind to survive the insult I re- ceived from this same royalty some hours ago." " What was it, Mignon ? " inquired a jaunty sailor lad, whose brown curls floating beneath the tarpaulin hat, betrayed the coquettish wearer of this most modest and delicately selected costume. "What was it, Jean ? Come, enlighten and enliven the com- pany with a history of your adventures ; for you have been as stupid as a melon ever since you have been here, acting your part to admiration. I have only been hoping that you would transgress the bounds of propriety, that the gens d'armes might have the pleasure of bowling your verdant rotundity out of the salle." "Why if you command," returned the melon, looking with a loving leer at the dashing sailor lad, " I might be willing to run some risk of being turned out, and I must moreover answer your question, albeit your speech is not seasoned with such a spice of polite- 188 HOME AND THE WOULD. ness as is tasteful to my palate. But if your feet, which are still patting an echo to the music, can re- main quiet a moment, I will begin." " Begin and make an end at once then," said the sailor lad impatiently, " for I should like to hear if your adventure was like my own, though I fear me your tale will not be worth the gallopade I am losing while listening to your prate." The melon, thus amicably encouraged, proceeded : " I attended the exposition this morning, to pre- sent to his Majesty a fusil ; one which had cost me the labor of months, one in short " and here the melon puffed out his green sides and drew himself proudly up, " a fusil, in short, worthy of Jean Fer- ron. Sire, said I, when his Majesty at length made the long expected tour of the rooms, Sire ! said I, with all humility, and dropping on one knee, permit a poo? fabricant the honor, great and unmerited as it is, of offering to your Majesty's acceptance a fusil on which I have lavished all my art, to render it worthy of the distinction I hope it will receive at your gra- cious hands." " His Majesty eyed the superb fusil for a moment as I held it up, and then what what do you suppose ? No you never can suppose ! My brain reels when I think of what ensued. He said, so carelessly that the last words faintly reached my ear as he passed rapidly on, ' Thank you, friend, your fusil would be of no use to me ; I always have mine made in England.' " " Bravo ! Bravissimo ! " shouted the sailor lad. " A proper pendant this for my embroidered silk hose which I presumed to offer to the Duchess de Berri, as A MASQUERADE. 189 her Royal Highness wears her petticoats nearly up to her knees, believing that nobody has a handsome foot and ankle but herself." And here the sailor lad gave a complacent look downwards. " I offered these gems of art to her Grace with all the engaging modesty I could assume for the occasion. She twitched them out of my hand while talking with three cavaliers at once, and tripped on without vouchsafing a glance at the embroiderer, or even inquiring her name. But come, my fine melon, give care to the winds ! tune passes ! " and the sailor lad bowled off the melon, and both were speedily merged in the motley crowd. " We may draw a deep moral from this colloquy, Delorme," said the domino, who had elicited it by his first remark to his friend. " These wild dancers, grotesque as they seem, have some method in their madness. Wherever I have joined their busy groups, still the same tone pervades the mass. They are ready now to cry c a las les JZourbonsS " " Aye ! " returned Delorme bitterly, " they are ever ready to be swayed by the caprice of the mo- ment; but where is the arm to guide the vessel amid the storm in such a raging element ? whose the eye to foresee,- the genius to profit of coming events ? " " Yours, yours ! my dear Victor ! " replied his companion hastily, "why should you for a moment doubt the power you possess over the hearts and minds of your friends, and through them over the thousands who can be fettered by the magic spell you so well know how to wield, until they move as one ? 190 HOME AND THE WORLD. Where else can we look with equal confidence ? The name of Lafayette still possesses its ancient prestige, yet it is but a name, one that might serve as a dra- peau in the beginning of a revolution. But he is old, and his hand trembling with the infirmities of nearly eighty years, cannot guide the helm of state amid the surging billows we see fast approaching. True it is that your name has not appeared in the programme of the great drama about to be enacted, but who had heard of Napoleon at your age ? Times and circumstances make men. A tree of stateliest growth has arisen from a scion, less noble than the one around which so many ardent wishes and brilliant an- ticipations are now entwined." " You speak as madly as these wild revellers, Dubourg," said Victor, though his heart swelled high at the enthusiastic language of his friend, and he was well aware that this nattering voice echoed the senti- ments of many more. " You speak madly. Of what avail would it be to stimulate and encourage these frantic people to a revolution ? Our scheme of a republic could not be realized ; the crowned heads of Europe would be in league against us. But even could this obstacle be overcome, there is yet another more insurmountable. Suppose the reigning monarch doomed to the scaffold, or exiled with all his imme- diate family, the hydra head of royalty still exists. It exists in a form yet more dangerous. _ The Duke of Orleans will still be here. His virtues, his popularity, his numerous family, all render him the most formi- dable barrier " " Assassinate him ! " interposed a low hissing voice A MASQUERADE. 191 in an under tone, but sharp and piercing, just in Vic- tor's ear. He started, and turned his head quickly to see who had thus intruded on a conversation, which had been so cautiously conducted that none but an accom- plished listener could have caught the import of the words. He beheld near him a gigantic serpent with horrent crest and " many a scaly fold, voluminous and vast," gliding into the crowd of maskers around. " Fit counsel for a representative of Satan ! " said Delorme, as the monster disappeared from their view. " And yet may there not be some plausibility, at least, in the idea ? " replied Dubourg, hesitating as he pronounced something very like approval of the serpent's counsel. " We might in such a case profit by what we could not foresee or avert. Suppose our reigning monarch banished, and the Duke of Orleans his successor. Do you not suppose his life would be conspired against by those who wished to restore the young Henri V. to the throne of his ancestors ? And if their conspiracy were successful, might we not profit by the deed without being sharers in the crime ? " Delorme shuddered, but in another/ moment he recovered his self-possession. " This is no place," he said, " to discuss topics so dangerous. We have already been overheard, whether by friend or foe I know not. But. I am weary of this scene of confusion. Let us avoid the crowd of our companions forming at yonder-door to intercept our retreat, and pass out on the other side. The morn- 192 HOME AND THE WORLD. ing is approaching too fast for me, even, to wish you good night ! " With these words the friends separated, threading the throng to the door of entrance as rapidly as the dense mass permitted, and returned to their respective homes But not to sleep. For Victor tossed in vain on his pillow, notwithstanding the precaution he had taken to banish every ray of the dawning light from his apartment. There was a fever in his veins, as well as in his mind. A feeling of bitterness, of remorse, of shame forced itself on him, as he remembered the events of the past night. He had not only been a witness of scenes revolt- ing to the character on which he had once prided himself that of superior refinement, not simply was he a spectator for an hour, and as a matter of curiosity, at these mad orgies and in their kindred haunts ; but he found himself habitually drawn into them as one of the initiated. True it was that he had not joined in the buffoonery, not to use a harsher word, that had distinguished the scene of the pre- ceding evening. But he experienced a loathing in the recollection of it, and a feeling of uneasy dissatis- faction with "himself at the facility with which he was induced to make appointments for such places. Then came the remembrance of his numerous conversations with these busy and tumultuous com- panions and followers, their reckless language, their wild schemes, their frenzied ambition. Again he heard repeated in suppressed murmurs "a bas Us Bourbons ! " Again, when sinking into a disturbed A MASQUERADE. 193 slumber, his imagination pictured the serpent at his ear with sharp hissing tones, pronouncing the ominous words, " assassinate him ! " Nor was there less of self-reproach mingled with the reflection that in these hideous words, and the oracular manner in which they had reached his ear, a clue was afforded him to a dark and mysterious con- versation which he had been, as if purposely, permit- ted to overhear, some time before, at one of these midnight assemblies. If the suggestion then made was only one of vague and uncertain character, and spoken of as a desperate expedient of the Carlists when their sovereign might be dethroned and re- placed by another branch of the Bourbon family, the complacency with which the idea was discussed proved that there were other factions to whom such a deed would not be unacceptable, if they could escape the odium attached to it. The half-approval given by Dubourg to the atro- cious idea of the assassination of the Duke of Orleans, convinced him that there was no crime, however re- volting, that might not be called a "virtue" or a " necessity " in the enormous latitude of the revolu- tionary vocabulary. He felt as one on the brink of a yawning gulf, whose edges were already crumbling beneath his feet. For a moment he wavered, hesi- tated, looked backward, and longed to escape. His imagination filled the winds with mingled hisses and groans and shouts of execration that would pursue him in his retreat. He looked forward the volcanic gulf still yawned before him, displayed more fully to his view by a lurid glare within. His resolve was 9 194 HOME AND THE WORLD. made, no alternative seemed to remain but to leap with one mighty effort to the opposite side ! Victor started suddenly, and the dreamy vision that had begun to steal over his senses was ban- ished. CHAPTER XVI. THE INCOGNITA. WHILE Victor Delorine was thus the prey of con- flicting passions, and haunted even in his feverish slumbers by the demon of ambition, he little suspect- ed that he was the dupe of a man more subtile, more artful than himself. Victor, as we have seen, had sometimes expe- rienced feelings of self-reproach and repentance, while engaged in the mad career that he nattered himself was leading him to a glorious distinction. His friend, if a title so sacred and so unmerited could be applied to Dubourg, had not even the headlong impulse of early youth to plead as an excuse for the indulgence of evil passions ; for he was the senior of Victor by several years, and had long accustomed himself to subject every impulse and every other passion to the two that ruled him with equally despotic sway avarice and ambition. His ambition was, indeed, so far merged in the meaner passion of avarice, that they were inseparably mingled in his sordid mind. He had risen from a lowly station in life by strug- gles with adverse fortune, and his sinuous course had 196 HOME AND THE WORLD. been marked by many a deed that an honest man would have blushed to be suspected of. But he con- cealed the basest acts under a cloak of hypocrisy so skilfully adjusted as to blind the keenest eyes, for his tact and talent were only equalled by his utter desti- tution of principle. Dubourg had not the advantage of a handsome person to recommend him ; but even this he knew how to turn to his own account, for there was less danger of rivalry from those who possessed " the fatal gift," and his secret machinations were less sus- pected beneath the unpretending guise in which he chose to appear. Still, he availed himself of every art to win the confidence of his dupes, and success- fully practised each one that gave him influence in the circles in which he appeared. The patronage of a few persons of distinction, on whose good nature he found means to impose, or whose laxity of princi- ple made the talent of Dubourg useful to them, had given him access to their society, and he was often seen in the salons of the great, passing with the good- natured, who were too indolent to examine his preten- sions, for " a -good fellow," and with the unprincipled as " a man of decided genius." His most efficient patron he had found' in Mr. Belmont, who entertained, and not without reason, a high opinion of the capacity of Dubourg. In many transactions, which both the man of genius and his patron would have been most unwilling to reveal to the scrutinizing eyes of the commercial world, Mr. Belmont had found Dubourg eminently useful to him. But the patron, though often blinded and duped by THE INCOGNITA. 197 his assistant, never relaxed his gripe upon the treas- ures on which the longing eyes of the latter were steadfastly fixed. He began to grow faint with un- appeased hunger, as he daily surveyed the glittering heaps accumulating but not for him. His was one of the hearts that Almeria had declared her vision not sufficiently microscopic to see, and he found it impossible to exercise his arts to any advantage with a father, whose soul was iron-bound like the chests that contained his gold, and with a daughter whose caprices would baffle them, or break through the subtlest web that his ingenuity could weave around her. The hope of a successful termination of his suit had led him to seek Almeria at her father's chateau near Geneva, and while there, he frequently saw the young gardener and his pretty bride. The reasons that induced him to join Mr. Belmont in recommending to Antoine to seek his fortunes in Paris soon became apparent. The unsuspicious young- gardener was easily persuaded by the officious zeal of his new patron, who promised him every thing. How these fair promises were fulfilled has been seen. Sophie was less tempted by the insidious offer of the imperceptible heart than Almeria had been, and hated, as far as her kind nature could hate, the base man who was the author of all their misfortunes ; for he continued to follow Antoine with secret malice, and by a look, a shrug, or an innuendo, whenever ap- pealed to for testimonials of his character, effectually barred the door to his success. To be effective, wickedness as well as virtue must. 198 HOME AND THE WOELD. have materials to work with. In laying the train of the approaching revolution, there were some mate- rials wanted which were only to be found, where misery and destitution render crime familiar. But Dubourg, and the most unprincipled of his associates, required something to further their designs, which it was difficult to find. They needed men with principle enough to be trusted with the darkest plots, without betraying their instigators, and whose abject poverty might lead them to crime for the sake of the gold that could save them from famine. It was precisely in this situation that the secret machinations of Dubourg had placed the unfortunate Antoine, though he was careful never to awaken sus- picion against himself. The Swiss at that time was se- lected for his fidelity to the interests of his employer, a recommendation well attested by the pertinacity with which royalty itself leaned upon a guard of that nation, in preference to the homeborn regiments. Antoine, sorely beset, bewildered by the vague insinuations and golden promises of the conspirators, weakened by illness, tortured by the cries of his famishing children, and seeing his young wife perish- ing before his eyes, was on the point of giving an indefinite oath to be and do whatever his employers should command. This they exacted of him before they would consent to relieve his misery, well know- ing the importance, almost superstitious, that he would attach to his promises. Madame Laval had observed the wild and terrible expression that marked his countenance when he found her in his abode of sorrow, and the same cause elicited his strong emotion THE INCOGNITA. 199 when, with tears of gratitude, he had fervently invoked a blessing on Constance as his benefactress and " an angel who had saved a family from death, and an immortal soul from perdition." But Victor Delorme was a dupe in a matter of more vital concernment to him. Despairing of the acquisition of Mr. Belmont's millions by a union with his only daughter and heir- ess, the fertile genius of Dubourg contrived another scheme. His intimacy with Victor put him in pos- session of all the most important private affairs of the Comte de Visconti, who, with the characteristic neg- ligence of an Italian noble, intrusted his estates to agents he supposed faithful, and passed his days in the elegant pursuits of literature and the arts. The unprepossessing visitor, who appeared during the reader's first introduction to Beatrice and her fa- ther, was no other^than Dubourg, who had secured possession of the letter that Victor should have de- livered in person, and made it a pretext for obtaining a view of the beautiful recluse. From that moment, his determination was formed. The prize was worthy the exercise of his subtlest in- genuity, his deepest art. He had already found means to expose the count to dangerous suspicions, by his machinations. This was an important step in his plan. The proud noble would have submitted to any degradation rather than that of bestowing the hand of his daughter on such a man as Dubourg, and this he well knew ; but there were means to over- come these scruples. If he could secure the hand of the signorina by any treachery, however base, he 200 HOME AND THE WOKLD. might hope in time to mitigate the indignation of the father, by removing the odium he had himself been secretly instrumental in casting upon him. He could restore him to prosperity, and thus present a claim not only to forgiveness but gratitude. But the heart sickens in the contemplation of a being so lost to humanity as well as honor. Leaving him to revolve his dark schemes, we will continue our narrative. The Comte de Visconti and his lovely daughter were still in possession of his residence in the Fau- bourg St. Germain, notwithstanding the apprehen- sions he had, without reserve, expressed to her of his failing fortunes, and the difficulties that beset his path, at home and abroad. This was an inexplicable enigma to Beatrice, for she well knew her father's lofty sense of honor, that he never would incur debts whichjt would be impos- sible for him to discharge, and that the elegance, in which his establishment was continued, could not be justified but by the continuance of the ample means he had hitherto uninterruptedly enjoyed. Whenever she approached the subject, it was waived by the count, sometimes playfully, and at others so gravely that she feared to offend him by manifesting a degree of unbecoming curiosity in prosecuting her inquiries farther. All her approaches to the theme, with which her thoughts were occupied, were evaded, sometimes ab- ruptly even when the manner in which they were at first received seemed to promise a satisfactory con- clusion, and she almost resolved never to allude to it ^ THE INCOGNITA. 201 again, though her mind dwelt on it earnestly and sadly. Some mystery, she felt convinced, there was in the circumstances in which they were placed, for she per- ceived a certain anxiety on the part of the count to withdraw her yet more from observation ; and though her sojourn in the metropolis had been, to her, marked by no event of interest in society, as she had never appeared in the circle she seemed formed to adorn, her life was now completely that of a recluse. In the heart of the most brilliant metropolis of Europe, she knew nothing of its inhabitants, or of the gay scenes that were passing near and around her. Content with the simple pleasures to which only she had been accustomed, she needed not the delirious enjoyments of those, whose days and nights followed each other in one continued round of time-destroying dissi- pation. Yet there was a certain sadness in the solitude to which she often found herself consigned, and it was sometimes in vain that she sought the sweet influences of her music, her books, her flowers. The strains were of softest harmony, but they were only her own ; the higher charm of poetry sometimes lost its power to captivate, and her flowers and birds served only to recall the recollection of her loved and regretted home. " You are almost as pale to-day as that white robe you wear, my daughter," said the count to her one morning, as they sat together in his studio, after look- ing at her for some time with affectionate solicitude. " The white veil you threw negligently on, just now 9* 202 HOME AND THE WOULD. when you were tending your flowers, made you quite a dame blanche, and if properly arranged, would complete your resemblance to my fair Flora." As he spoke, he threw the floating folds around her, and arranging them with the hand of a finished artist, the resemblance between the beautiful original and the hardly less beautiful statue was complete. With a feeling of gratulation and pride the count sur- veyed alternately the peerless creation of an art, which he had studied and practised with intense enthusiasm, and the lovely original in whom his fondest hopes and affections were centred. " Both are perfect ! " he said at length in an under- tone, as if soliloquizing. " The time is well chosen for displaying them to the highest advantage. A princess may well be pardoned for her anxious desire to look on forms so faultless. Beatrice, my love," he continued aloud, "I have made perhaps a rash promise, and one for which I should ask your for- giveness." " My forgiveness, dear father ? then it must, in- deed, be a strangely rash pi omise ; but whatever it may have been, you are assured, without a possibility of doubt, that I am ready to fulfil it, if there is any thing in it which relates to me." And she looked up in his face with a confiding smile. " Nay, Beatrice, I may ask more than you will find it easy to grant. It will require all your resolution to repress the curiosity natural to your sex and age, when I inform you that two visitors will honor you with their presence this morning, both of whom you will find elegant and attractive, and that while you THE INCOGNITA. 203 will be permitted to form their acquaintance, their names will remain unknown to you. This is their request, and as it accords with my own wishes, you will, I feel assured, seek to know no more than I desire to communicate. A young lady, under the protection of her brother, will make us this visit. The lady possesses a singular genius for the art of sculpture, which she has studied with the enthusiasm, and practises with the skill, of an artist. She has heard both of my statue and the original, and anx- iously desires to compare them. You will be yet more disposed to gratify her wish, when you learn that her father has been to me a friend so noble, so generous, that I would peril my life for him." "It will then be a small sacrifice to peril my humility, my dear father," said Beatrice smiling, " though I confess I have some dread of the effect of this flattering process upon my vanity. But your commands are laws for me, and your pleasure is mine. I cannot promise that the feeling of curiosity you so anxiously deprecate will remain entirely dormant in my mind, but, at least, it shall not be expressed." " This is all I can ask or wish, my daughter," said the count, " but I hear the sound of wheels on the pavement of the court," and he hastily left the studio. A rare condescension this for a haughty member of the ducal family of Milan. One part of the mys- tery was already solved, for Beatrice knew that her father would observe such ceremony only with persons of the highest rank. In a few minutes he re-entered, accompanied by the expected visitors. 204 HOME AND THE WOULD. The embarrassment, which Beatrice naturally ex- perienced immediately after the annunciation of the object of their visit by her father, and before she had entirely recovered from the surprise it had occasioned, was soon banished by their graceful ease and self- possession. The lady was, as her father had described her, young and lovely. Eighteen summers had hardly shed their roses in her path ; yet was there a pensive expression in her face that pictured thought beyond her years, though her dark eye beamed with sensi- bility and goodness. Her hair was simply parted on the thoughtful brow, and her attire, though in the purest taste, partook of the same simplicity. Her stature, though rather above the middle height, was contrasted with that of her brother, whose tall form bespoke command. An expression of calm dignity marked the quiet glance of his clear blue eye, a pro- fusion of light brown hair shaded his fair forehead, and a slight moustache contrasted equally well -with his fresh complexion. The regularity of his features corresponded well with his fine form, and both were enhanced by the elegance of his address, which united a becoming modesty with manly self-possession. " You will pardon, I trust, the liberty we have taken," he said, as he advanced toward Beatrice with an air of respectful courtesy, " in availing ourselves of the permission of the Comte de Visconti to look at this beautiful specimen of his talent in the art of sculpture. My sister's passion for it is so well under- stood by her friends, that she enjoys privileges which would be denied to others." THE INCOGNITA. 205 " And yet another privilege she may hope to claim," added the lady with a whining smile, that chased away the habitually pensive expression of her face like a beam of sunshine in an April morning ; " the privilege of forming an acquaintance with the lovely original." As she spoke these words, with a captivating grace, she touched the blushing cheek of Beatrice with her lips. " The resemblance between these miracles of nature and art is lessened by the roses I have unintentionally called forth," she continued, " but it does not render the original less charming. If my passion had been for the art of painting, instead of sculpture, I could not have used a more ingenious device to perfect a model I should have been too happy to possess." Beatrice blushed yet more deeply ; but how could she be offended at words of such courtly phrase, uttered by lips so fair, and in cadence so gentle ? Each word of her elegant visitors added to the charm of their conversation, and at the end of an hour, which had glided imperceptibly away, she found herself drawn towards them by a sympathy, which hearts and minds of youthful purity and refinement alone can fully appreciate. " I am half tempted to part with my incognita," said the lady looking at the count, as she rose to depart. " It is hardly fair to pronounce your name as I do, sweet Beatrice, without revealing my own But you will pardon this mystery, as it meets with the approval of your father, and I hope you will some- times think of me simply as Marie." CHAPTER XVII. THE CONFESSION. AN acquaintance so auspiciously begun was as happily continued. The visits of the young incognita were several times repeated, and each interview en- hanced the respect and admiration Beatrice enter- tained for her. The superior knowledge attained by the Comte de Yisconti in her favorite art, and the delight she evidently took in his conversation and instructions in it ; the pleasure with which she listened to the culti- vated voice of Beatrice in song or in poetical recita- tions in her musical language, and above these, the interchange of thoughts of refined taste and delicacy which marked the sedulous care bestowed on the education of these lovely young persons, formed a bond of sympathy between them to last with life. Alas ! that one of these fair flowers should have been doomed to wither, when it had just expanded its bright blossoms of hope and promise ! It may be presumed that Beatrice felt a natural desire to penetrate the veil which concealed from her view the name and history of the gentle incognita ; THE CONFESSION. 207 but any manifestation of this feeling would have been a departure from the promise she had made on her first introduction to her, and her father seemed dis- posed to adhere to his own resolution on the subject, for it was one on which he never invited her to con- verse. His lightest word had always been her law ; and accustomed as she was to anticipate rather than to follow his instructions, she was content to enjoy the pleasure afforded her from this new and fruitful source, without seeking to dissipate the mystery that sur- rounded it. Happy she was, also, to perceive that since the auspicious day of her first acquaintance with her fair friend, the cloud on the brow of her father seemed to lessen. Though there were evidently cares on his mind, they were apparently less corroding, and arose more from the wayward conduct of Victor, whose revolutionary sentiments and schemes could not al- ways be concealed from his kinsman, than from any immediate apprehension of danger to himself and his fortunes. Beatrice was one morning in pleased anticipation of the visit which was to relieve her solitude, and had fallen into one of those pleasant day dreams in which youth loves to indulge, when it was interrupted by the arrival of the young incognita. " I shall not maintain this mystic guise much longer, Beatrice," she said, after they had passed an hour in their usually delightful manner. " Nor should I ever have assumed it but for the desire I felt to form an acquaintance with one, of whom I had heard a rap- turous description. The young Count de Beaumanoir 208 HOME AND THE WORLD. is one of our best friends. He possesses the esteem and confidence of my father and family in a high degree ; and at a time when he could speak with less reserve of you than circumstances now permit, I be- came acquainted with your virtues and accomplish- ments. I wished to judge for myself of the reality of his glowing picture, without the formality and etiquette which would have attended any other mode of introduction to you than that I have chosen. My object is now attained. I flatter myself that the ice of ceremony will never hereafter have power to raise a barrier between us, and I have exacted a promise from your father to present you to my parents soon, notwithstanding the determination he seems to have adopted to withdraw you at present from the world." With these words, she took her leave with her wonted kindness. The reverie interrupted by the visit of the incog- nita was resumed, after she had departed. The thoughts of Beatrice naturally reverted to the subject on which her friend had delicately touched, and the warm commendation of the young Count de Beau- manoir brought a glow of pleasure to her cheek. Happily for Beatrice, for her well-being and future promise of life, the choice made for her by her father, in the manner understood and practised among the higher classes of continental Europe, had fallen upon one endowed with amiable qualities and accomplish- ments equal to her own, one that she could love and trust. Aware of the machinations that threatened the Comte de Yisconti, Beaumanoir had resolved to uri- THE CONFESSION. 209 ravel them, and his presence in Milan, the native city of the count, was necessary to the accomplishment of his purpose. During several months he had been absent on this mission, and it was at so propitious a time that Victor hoped to supplant him in the heart of Beatrice. What would have been his emotions had he known that a mind, deeper and darker than his own, was at work to render his plans futile, and was busily preparing still " a lower deep v for her than the one in which he would himself have plunged the object of his fond idolatry ! The portals of the court were hardly closed upon the chariot of the incognita, when Victor entered the studio, where Beatrice was still sitting. Profiting by the confidence reposed in him by the Comte de Visconti, who, though he might have pos- sessed judgment and penetration with regard to others, Victor well knew was blind to his faults, he did not dread his kinsman's displeasure in coming an unbidden guest. The ingenuity of Beatrice had been exerted to the utmost to avoid all communication with him, except in the presence of her father, for her gentle nature shrunk from the idea of giving him pain, and she hoped that the silent reproof conveyed by avoiding him would be more efficacious in convincing him that his passion was hopeless, than any words from her could have been. There was, therefore, something of vexation mingled with the agitation she experienced in finding herself thus unexpectedly drawn into an interview with him. The feeling of vexation her womanly pride and dignity repressed, her agitation she could 210 HOME AND THE WORLD. not entirely conceal. Victor, with his accustomed penetration, detected both. With an air of easy self-possession, he accosted her ; touched lightly and gracefully on the topics which are usually discussed by transient visitors, and framed his discourse with such consummate art, that at the end of half an hour Beatrice was re-assured. Unconscious of the advantage afforded him by her own inexperience and his subtlety, she willingly yielded to the idea that she had judged him with too much severity, that his declaration of a passion for her was only a momentary caprice, or it might indeed have been feigned to afford him, as well as herself, a subject of diversion at a future day. The feeling of confidence and regard which she had been accustomed to accord to him, in days past, returned, and she was now surprised that she could have looked upon his cenduct in any other light than that of thoughtless indiscretion, attributable only to his waywardness, and not, as she had feared, to a dereliction of prin- ciple. " You are then unacquainted with the name and rank of the lady I met on entering this morning," he said, after many light topics were exhausted. " If you have much curiosity on the subject, I think I can give you a clue, by which you may make the dis- covery." " I am quite satisfied with the pleasure I enjoy at present," reph'ed Beatrice, "without trespassing on forbidden ground. It was her wish, as well as that of my father, that I should make no inquiry on these subjects, at present. Some days hence, I am assured THE CONFESSION. 211 by the lady herself, that this mystery will be at an end. I suspect she only wished to prepare an agree- able surprise for me." " And she has repeated these visits several times ? " inquired Victor thoughtfully. " Yes, several times ; recently under the protec- tion of a venerable lady, who seems merely a protect- ress, as she does, not appear interested in our books, music, or conversation. The first time I saw her, she was accompanied by her brother." " And you found the brother as charming as the sister ? " said Victor significantly. " Yes, quite as charming," replied Beatrice with a smile, detecting the covert malice of his insinuation. " His face and form would do honor to majesty itself, while his manners are so gentle and winning, that a prince might envy their charm." " Ah, Beatrice ! you have lost your heart. This young hero of your story is doubtless in possession of it. But suppose, only to make the romance more interesting, that this elegant young man were, by some magic, converted into a prince nay, into a king, or that your fair incognita should be suddenly transformed into a princess, would it not greatly heighten your respect and admiration for them ? " " You do me injustice, Victor, in supposing that I attach an undue value to the external circumstances in which princes are placed. I acknowledge that there is a certain feeling in my mind of the respect due to * princes and judges of the earth,' and that the sentiment of loyalty, when the sovereign who 212 HOME AND THE WORLD. claims it is gifted with all the great qualities a king should possess, is high and ennobling." " These sentiments, as aVisconti, you have naturally inherited from your father," said Victor, " but are you quite sure you would be guided by them in your judg- ment, if my hypothesis were to prove, true ? " " The apparent virtues and accomplishments of the hero and heroine of my romance, as you are pleased to call it," replied Beatrice, " would be a guarantee for my sincerity ; but even if I should find that a fairy wand had converted them into a king and a princess, which I do not anticipate, I should not admire them more. Indeed I should regret it, for the respect due to their high rank would at once raise a barrier of etiquette around them, which I, with my youth and inexperience, could never venture to pass." " They are indeed young and fair as you have described them, Beatrice," said Victor, and a cloud passed over his brow, while a sigh, which he could not repress, was audible. " It were sad to consign two such beings to irreparable misfortune, perhaps to an early grave ! " Beatrice looked up with surprise. There was a tone of such deep sadness in his words, and an ex- pression so gloomy and mysterious flitted over his features, as he uttered them, that he seemed to be speaking prophetic truth rather than sentiments of vague supposition. Startled by her inquiring glance, he resumed his lighter manner, though with some constraint. " Have you no fears then," he said, as if willing to change the subject, though conscious that he was en- THE CONFESSION. 213 tering on one still more embarrassing, " that I may assume the character of a spy, and report all you have told me of this elegant cavalier ? " " No, Victor, I have no fears that you will act an unworthy part," replied Beatrice, with an effort to feel the confidence she assumed, though her voice faltered, and she avoided the sad and earnest look that she perceived in the eyes which she dreaded to meet, notwithstanding the careless tone he had, until that moment, preserved. " If you have no fears, Beatrice," he said in a low voice, and approaching her more nearly, " and if your feelings for me have undergone no change, give me your hand in token of undiminished friendship." She gave the hand frankly and cordially, but her eyes were still cast down, and it trembled as he clasped it in his and led her to a seat. Her agitation became yet more painful when he knelt before her and bowed his forehead on that hand. He raised his head, and she was shocked at the wild expression that flashed over his pale features. *" Beatrice ! " he exclaimed, " my life is in your hands : oh, do not thus turn away from me ! To you I have looked as the guardian angel who would lead me in the paths of honor. Without that angelic guardianship, I may be lost to all that can claim the name. Tell me that you do not spurn the love that consumes my heart ! " " Victor," she replied mournfully, " I believed that this wild dream had long since been dissipated. You wrong yourself and me in thus urging a suit, which can bring only sorrow and blame to both." 214 HOME AND THE WORLD. " No, no ! " he returned passionately, and catching a ray of hope from her gentle and subdued manner, " there will be neither sorrow nor blame, if you love me. I will endure all that can arise from the fulfil- ment of that beautiful dream. Be mine, Beatrice, and my destiny will be happiness and honor ! " " Victor," said Beatrice, " your words are strange and dark, and I know not what terrible mystery is involved in the language you hold. Some fatal influ- ence is at work to bewilder your perception of truth and justice. Bid the tempter depart ! " she con- tinued, rising, as she spoke, with an air of dignity and self-possession that a noble resolution could alone have inspired at such a moment. " Be yourself, Victor, as I once knew you before a delusive passion obscured your judgment, and happiness and honor will more surely be yours than if this baseless vision had been realized." " You cast me from you, then ? " said Victor, rising and folding his arms over his breast, as if to still the wild throbbings of the rebellious heart within, while his manner became as lofty as her own. " Thos6 harsh words are yours, not mine, Victor," said Beatrice, her eyes filling with teal's as she spoke. " My feelings for you are unchanged. I would be, as I have ever been to you, a sister. You well know that all you demand farther than this, is given to another." " Your hand I know is promised by your father," said Victor, " but your heart " "Was won before that promise was made," said Beatrice, blushing deeply, while the words fal- THE CONFESSION. 215 tered on her lips, " and that promise will be fulfilled with my own consent." " Then is the bright dream indeed dispelled ! " said Victor, while a mortal paleness overspread his features. "The vexed spirit is banished, and will never more haunt you. Farewell ! " * He turned, and before she could reply he was gone. CHAPTER XVIII. THE CARNIVAL. THE last day of the carnival had arrived. The mammoth ox, garlanded with flowers, preceded by a band of music, and followed by a car which might have passed for that of the goddess of reason and her satellites, judging from the group within it, had passed through every quarter of the metropolis, and had at last laid down his life literally, as other great actors do figuratively, for the amusement of the admiring crowd. His eager followers, who had anticipated the catas- trophe, as do the hungry heirs of a miser, when the hoards of gold they have watched and worshipped are about to be distributed, claimed and received their portions of his spoils the more eagerly, because this one day of riotous enjoyment was to sum up their pleasures and give them one prize against forty blanks, while with many of the bustling throng the feast was only an annual one, and its rarity enhanced their anxiety to partake of it. The Boulevards and the Champs Elys6es presented a curious spectacle in the slowly moving files of car- THE CARNIVAL. 217 riages of every description, some filled with revellers in grotesque masks with noses of preposterous length, women covered with paint, patches and ribbons, children in wigs, and girls in regimentals and epau- lettes, boys and girls alike disguised en pierrot, with faces plastered with flour, and in their*- high-pointed white caps and white dresses, looking like the ghosts of the carnival gliding about in anticipation of its speedy demise. The maskers, who ventured on foot among the dense masses that crowded the sides of the streets, were often received with shouts of derision, and occa- sionally something more substantial than sugar plums found a place in the showers hurled at them by their companions in this rude pastime. The gens d'armes, stationed at intervals along the streets, received maledictions both loud and deep, when some obstruction of the passage rendered their interference necessary, and occasionally a drawn sword was seen flashing over the heads of the multitude. Still the mighty mass moved on, and if accidents oc- curred, they were soon forgotten in the tumultuous excitement of the scene and the day. The Princess V. had made every exertion to secure an earlier day than mardi gras for her fancy ball, which was to unite all that art could invent or luxury display ; for this day of universal riot was one of such incessant commotion among the lower classes, as to make it particularly unsuitable for her purpose. But other fetes had claimed the precedence over hers, and she had been compelled to avail herself of the last day of the carnival for her splendid entertainment. 10 218 HOME AND THE WOULD. Couturieres and modistes, plumassiers and fleurists, jewellers and embroiderers had plied their busy hands for a month past in preparing the varied and magnifi- cent costumes which were to grace the occasion. How many pale artists were toiling daily and nightly at their sickly trade for a scanty subsistence, ill paid for their labors, or alas ! too often not paid at all, while decorating the glittering robes that were to cover many an aching heart! What anxiety was suffered by the elegant hostess and her elegant guests, while preparations were in progress, on both sides, for entertaining and being entertained ! What vexations and disappointments had to be endured from faithless "paroles cfrhonneur," or soothing exhortations to be " tranquille " under the heart-rending failure of an unfinished piece of embroidery or an incomplete costume ! All these whirlpools and quicksands had been escaped by the happy mariners who remained quietly in port, while the storm of gayety was thus raging furiously without. The young friends of Constance, some of whom had shared in the bitterness of disappointment from faithless promises, and were compelled to content themselves with a simpler costume than the one they had fancied and ordered, secretly commended her choice in giving up the anticipated fete, and could not help admiring an example, which they had not re- solution enough to follow. The sacrifice made by Constance, hi dedicating her costume to the relief of the unfortunate Antoine and his family, had lost in her eyes whatever of merit it THE CARNIVAL. 219 might have claimed, as the enthusiasm of Madame Laval had induced her to speak of it to all her ac- quaintance, notwithstanding the entreaties of her pupil to preserve silence on the subject, when her seeming caprice in declining the invitation to the fancy ball should be mentioned. To indemnify her for her disappointment, which her friends imagined much more severe than it really was, they promised to call, on their way to the enter- tainment of the Princess V., to show her the effect of the splendid costumes they had selected, before they should be merged in the glittering crowd as- sembled at the fancy ball. Mrs. Melville and her daughter, on this eventful evening, when the whole metropolis presented a scene of universal and uproarious gayety, were quietly seat- ed in an elegantly furnished parlor. A wood fire as bright, though not so ample, as those they had been accustomed to at this season when they were hi their own loved home, was blazing on the hearth, and the room was abundantly illuminated with wax lights to give the full effect of the expected costumes. Constance was trying, for the first time, the keys of a new and exquisite pianoforte which Mr. Mel- ville had ordered for her on their arrival in the me- tropolis, and which he had purposely directed to be brought in on this day, that the evening which he supposed his daughter might have looked forward to as one of regret and disappointment, should be dis- tinguished by a pure and rational, as well as an un- usual, degree of enjoyment. The beautiful instrument responded well to the 220 HOME AND THE WORLD. fairy fingers that flew over its keys. The crescendo and diminuendo rose and fell with the power and sweetness of the human voice. The higher notes were flute-like, the deep chords of the bass re- sembled those of the church organ. It was tried, in every variety of music, by the happy young possessor of the long-coveted treasure. " From grave to gay, from lively to severe," composer followed composer, and the magical instrument seemed to have been made expressly for every different style. " Those new variations are brilliant and striking," said Mrs. Melville, as Constance concluded a favorite piece ; " but there is something in the air that awakens old memories and associations in my mind. I think I have heard it before." "I do not doubt it," said Constance laughing, "though you would be unwilling, notwithstanding your modest dread of appearing more youthful than you really are, to be considered a contemporary of the ancient author. Beethoven and Mozart are as palpa- bly copied by modern composers as Dante was by Milton ; but like the great poet, they have often im- proved so much upon the original that it would be unjust to call them plagiarists. How I wish Evelyn was here," she continued, u to play this charming duet with me! she would enjoy my new piano as much as I do." " I should be only too happy if your wish could be realized, my child," said Mrs. Melville, " though we must wait some months longer for the pleasure we anticipate in welcoming back our loved absentees. Vivian and Evelyn, judging from the letters we re- THE CARNIVAL. 221 ceived this morning, are highly amused with the Neapolitan carnival, which, from all accounts, is much more interesting than it is here. But the bell an- nounces our costumes. Who comes first ? " The question was answered by the triumphal en- trance of the white-plumed Henry of Navarre, ar- rayed in regal splendor, and supporting on his arm a Peruvian princess of rare beauty. Her dress was so artistically and completely adorned with brilliantly colored feathers, that she looked like some tropical bird just ready to take wing. Her rich black hair floated loosely over her shoulders, and was adorned, as well as her neck, arms, and ankles, with a profusion of massive gold ornaments, such as an Indian princess might be supposed to possess. Hardly had this pair received their well-deserved tribute of admiration, when a lady entered dressed as a Turkish sultana. The gold tissue of her robe, tho rich colors of the grotesque figures embroidered on it, resembling gems rather than silk, the costly jewels, and above ah 1 the miniature of the sultan sur- rounded by diamonds, which she wore as a noble would wear an order, attested her rank. Her young nephew, arrayed in barbaric pomp, with his face painted black, followed her as an Eastern slave, carrying a plateau, on which were piled a large num- ber of Persian curiosities, to be distributed among the friends of the charming sultana. Well she became the character she personated ; for though' a Greek by birth, the sultan would have been too happy to see her fair round form and splendid oriental eyes among his Turkish beauties. 222 HOME AND THE WORLD. Next came the Berg&res Pompadours, attended by several young marquis', attired in the graceful though pompously elaborate dress of the Louis Quinze style. A slight, very slight, sigh escaped the lips of Constance, as she looked admiringly at these youthful beauties. Was it for her own disappointment ? or that the embroidered velvet coats and point lace ruf- fles reminded her that she had been instrumental, though innocently, in depriving Reginald of the plea- sure he might have enjoyed in the brilliant scene where they were to be displayed. But the feeling was momentary, and she blushed at the thought of attributing such weakness to him, when she found it so easy to console herself. Her reflections, if such transient thoughts could be dignified with the name, were interrupted by the de- parture of the first costum6s, who were impatient to appear on the scene of their anticipated triumphs, and the entrance of two more, attired as were the Ber- geres Pompadours, in a style half-regal, half-peasant, the picturesque dress of Spanish contrabandiers. Madame de St. Clair, in this gay and becoming costume, looked many years younger than she really was. She was accompanied by a handsome young man, whose dark moustache and complexion accorded well with his brilliant and striking dress, and whom she presented to Mrs. Melville and her daughter. " The Viscomte Alvares," she said, " has been un- fortunately compelled to delay his visit to the metro- polis until the very last day of our gay season. I fear the specimen we are about to show him of our elegant society this evening, will only increase his regret for what he has lost." THE CARNIVAL. 223