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THE 
 
 BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 ^c 
 
 Y JULIA COBNEE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE EXOLTSH ENVOY AT THE COURT OF NICOLAS T 
 
 M 
 
 LONDON: 
 THOMAS HODGSON, 13, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
tOVDONJ WOOnrALL AND KINDBR, PRINTERS, 
 ANSEL COUKt SKJKNER STRUBX. 
 
755" 
 
 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 *-' Cab, jsirj?" vociferated the driver of one of those 
 uncomfortable machines, which, nevertheless, in the 
 present day must be classed among the absolute ne- 
 cessaries of London life, and he checked his horse 
 in the expectation of a fare. The inquiry was ad- 
 dressed to a young man of gentlemanly appearance, 
 who was walking at a rapid pace along the Strand ; 
 and as he nodded assent, the vehicle drew up to the 
 curbstone, when he opened tlie door himself, sprang 
 in, and called out as he did so, " To Kensington, 
 and drive like the devil, for I am late." 
 
 Calculating upon an extra shilling in virtue of this 
 hint, the man set off at a reckless rate, utterly regard- 
 less of such facts as nursery maids with small 
 children, or tottering old women, who might be cross- 
 ing the road; yet, furiously as he drove, his speed 
 hardly kept pace with the impatience of the passenger 
 inside, who looked every minute or two at his watch, 
 and seemed to be of opinion that cabs ought to be 
 furnished with wings instead of wheels. " And they 
 are so deucedly punctual at our house," he said to 
 himself; " dinner is never half an hour behind time ; 
 confound that fellow Palmer! If I hadn't met with 
 him, I should have been at home an hour ago — I 
 certainly will give up billiards altogether, for I'm 
 always getting ii;ito some scrape or other." 
 
 ^ ,-. 092 
 
6 THE BKOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 These and similar reflections occupied the mind of 
 Chaiies Basset until the cab had passed the palace at 
 Kensington, when he pulled the check-string, jumped 
 out, and paid the man his demand, which, seeing that 
 the gentleman was in a hmiy and had no time to dis- 
 pute with him, that conscientious person fixed at 
 eighteen pence more than was his due. The yomig 
 man walked on hastily towards a handsome house 
 about a hundred yards distant,"^ where he knocked at 
 the door, while the cab-driver looked after him with a. 
 comical expression of face in which contempt and 
 merriment were curiously blended ; and having 
 pocketed the proceeds of the late transaction with a 
 considerable degree of satisfaction, he gave utterance 
 to the following remarkable observation : — " What a 
 flat ! " In the meantime the door was opened by a 
 servant in livery. 
 
 "Who are here, Barnes?" inquired his young 
 master. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Glanville, sir ; Miss Kirby, Sir 
 William and Mr. Ferndale, and Mrs. Heaviside.' 
 ^ *'Not Major Gilmom-?" 
 
 *' No, sir ! not yet." 
 ^ " That's all right ; now, tell them to bring some 
 warm water to my room du'ectly, for I'm confoundedly 
 late." 
 
 On tlie stairs he met his father. " Wliy, Chai'les,. 
 what has kept you till this time ? Do you know that 
 it only wants a quarter to six?" 
 
 "Yes, sir! I know it; I shall be ready in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 " You ought to have been ready before this. Pray 
 make as much haste as you can ; you have paid the 
 insurance, of course?" 
 
 " The insurance? oh yes, sir, certainly. I shall be 
 down almost directly." And so saying, he hastened 
 to his own room to dress for dinner. 
 
 "The insurance!" he repeated to himself; "by 
 heavens! I quite forgot it. Those confounded billiards, ; 
 they make one forget everything. However, it will 
 
 ^ri 
 
 J 
 
THE BEOTHEES BASSET. V 
 
 be better not to tell my father, for it would make him 
 uneasy perhaps, and I shall pay it the first thing in 
 the morning before I go to the counting-house at all. 
 It's deucedly unlucky though; I wish I hadn't met 
 with Palmer, then it would have been done. — Well, 
 it's no use thinking about it now — I shall make it all 
 right to-morrow." And so Charles dismissed the sub 
 ject from his thoughts, and set about making his 
 toilet for the dinner party, an employment that soon 
 engrossed all his attention, as he w^as desirous of ap- 
 pealing to the best advantage on this particular 
 occasion ; and while he is thus engaged, it may be 
 as well to say a few words respectmg the family in 
 which he played the distinguished part of eldest son. 
 Mr. Basset, the father, carried on an extensive 
 wholesale business in one of those narrow streets or 
 lanes branching from Cheap side, where his large, 
 dark, dingy warehouses were stored with bales of 
 valuable goods, consisting chiefly of the richest silks, 
 velvets, and furs, imported from various psu'ts of the 
 world. The firm was formerly Cole and Basset ; 
 but, on the death of the chief partner, Mr. Basset 
 took the whole concern upon himself with a view of 
 giving his son a share in it; and Charles was at 
 this very moment looking forward to the prospect of 
 being in partnership with his father in the course of 
 a few weeks. On the strength of this expectation, he 
 had already begun to feel himself of more import- 
 ance than he had hitherto been ; and thereupon was 
 building certain castles in the air which were destined 
 to meet with the fate of most edifices of that descrip- 
 tion. It is a pity that this same castle-building should 
 generally turn out so unprofitable an occupation, con- 
 sidering how much time is spent upon it, and how 
 very pleasant it is until the downfall comes. Mr 
 Basset was a man about sixty, of reserved manners, 
 few words, and grave but courteous deportment. His 
 hair being nearly white, gave him the appearance of 
 being much older than he really was, and his vene- 
 rable mien, together with a habit of dressing always in 
 
8 , THE BROTHEKS BASSET, 
 
 hlack, caused him very generally to be'^'mistaken t>y 
 strangers for a clergyman. His wife had for some 
 years been a nervous invalid, incapable, or fancying 
 herself so, of the slightest exertion, so that she had 
 become a mere cipher in her own house, whilst all 
 the domestic arrangements were entrusted to her 
 eldest daughter Claudia, who, from the early age of 
 sixteen, had been the real mistress of the establish- 
 ment, and whose character had thereby acquired a 
 serious and thoughtful turn, which formed an agreeable 
 contrast to the light-hearted gaiety of her sister 
 Emily, who was two years younger, the one being 
 twenty, the other scarcely eighteen. They were ex- 
 tremely pretty, and generally believed to resemble 
 each other, as both had that beautiful pale auburn 
 hair which bears a golden tinge, large blue eyes, 
 shaded with long lashes of a darker hue than the 
 hair, and a fair transparent complexion ; but Claudia 
 was taller than her sister, her features were more 
 regular, and the expression of her face was so pensive 
 as sometimes to border on sadness, yet always gentle 
 and pleasing ; whereas Emily, whose natural vivacity 
 had never received a check, was a laughter-loving 
 damsel, seldom troubled with a serious thought ; so 
 that her brother frequently took occasion to say, and 
 perha2:)s he was not very far from the truth, she was 
 more merry than wise. 
 
 There was another son a year or two younger than 
 Charles, but as he was away from home at this time 
 it is unnecessary to say anything about him at present ; 
 and now let us proceed with the events of the day. 
 
 Mr. Charles Basset bestowed as much pains on his 
 outward adornment as the short time he had allowed 
 himself would admit of; and to judge from the com- 
 placency with which he surveyed himself in a large 
 cheval glass when his toilet was completed, the result 
 was satisfactory. He perfumed his fine cambric hand- 
 kerchief, drew down his wristbands a little lower, took 
 another survey of his person, and then descended to 
 the drawing-room, where about fifteen or sixteen 
 
THE BEOTHEKS BASSET. 9 
 
 persons were assembled, but it appeared from the 
 hasty glance he cast ai^ound the circle that these were 
 not all he had expected to see, and when he had paid 
 as many compliments as politeness exacted he went 
 close up to his youngest sister and whispered iu her 
 €ar, — 
 
 *' No disappointment about the Gilmours, is there, 
 Emmy?"'^^ 
 
 " Oh, no — they are rather late, that's all ; but I 
 know they are coming, for I saw Florence this morn- 
 ino". 
 
 ° Did you ? Where ? 
 
 " In Eegent Street. We walked together for^half 
 an hour." 
 
 " I wash I had been with you." 
 
 *' We did not want you, Charlie, for we went into 
 two or three shops, and a gentleman is dreadfully in 
 the way when one is shopping." 
 
 " I don't believe you, Emmy ; I'm quite sure you 
 never think a gentleman in the way." 
 
 " How very conceited you are, sir — I shall tell Flo- 
 rence of that pretty speech." 
 
 "It was not meant for her," said Charles, " and I 
 beg " 
 
 But here he was interrupted; for at that moment 
 the door was thrown wide open by Barnes, who an- 
 nounced in an extra loud voice, — 
 
 "Major and Miss Gilmour ! " 
 
 And the major entered the room with rather a 
 stately air, his beautiful daughter hanging on his arm. 
 He was a tall, aristocratic looking man, with that 
 yellow complexion which is so generally the effect of 
 a long residence in India ; but his daughter was a 
 very handsome and remai-kably elegant girl, with a 
 bright animated countenance, lighted up by the most 
 superb dark eyes imaginable. Her white, exquisitely 
 moulded arms were displayed to great advantage by 
 the short sleeves of the rich ruby velvet dress she 
 w^ore ; wdiilst her fair forehead w^as an admirable con- 
 trast to the dark glossy hair that was braided over it, 
 and fell in long ringlets behind. 
 
i^ THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 Charles Basset's eyes sparkled with pleasure as he- 
 advanced to lead her to a seat ; and when dinner was 
 announced, he gave her his arm, and seated himself 
 next to her at the table. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Major Gilmot3R was the younger son of a Scottish 
 family, of noble origin but j)oor estate. He was dis- 
 tantly related by marriage to the Bassets ; and some 
 five-and- twenty years ago, when he was only a young 
 subaltern officer with nothing but his pay to subsist 
 upon, Mr. Basset, although full ten years older, was- 
 his most intimate friend, and being the richer of the 
 two, Arthur Gilmour had often been indebted to him 
 for]^relief from such j^ecuniary embarrassments as 
 young men with high notions and scanty means are 
 very apt to fall into. He had a vast deal of that sort 
 of pride which is the unwholesome fruit of the genea- 
 logical tree, and was fond of tracing his ancestiy, 
 though in an indirect line, to the great Earls of 
 Douglas, who held all but sovereign power in Scot- 
 land at one period of its eventful history. Neverthe- 
 less he had to seek his own fortune in the world, and 
 on the death of his father, with the few hundreds, 
 that constituted his share of the inheritance, he pm*- 
 chased a commission in a cavalry regiment that was 
 going to India. Before his departure, hoAvever, he 
 fell in love with, and married, a beautiful girl, who 
 bad come from some distant part of the country on a 
 visit to her cousin, Mrs. Basset, who had not long 
 been a wife herself, and the maniage was celebrated 
 at Mr. Basset's house, and at his cost. It was his 
 liberality, too, that furnished the bride with^ every- 
 thing requisite for her voyage, and thus far Ai'thur 
 Gilmour was under obligations to his friend, for 
 which, at that time, it was not in his power to make 
 any return. On his arrival at Calcutta, he met with 
 his elder brother, who had, for several yeare, held a 
 
THE BROTHEKS BASSET. 11 
 
 lucrative appointment under the Government, and 
 was already a man of some wealth and importance ;. 
 but as Arthur's regiment was ordered to a distant 
 station, they had not the opportunity of spending 
 much time together. Once, soon after the birth 
 of Florence, her uncle paid a visit to that part of the 
 country where she first opened her eyes upon the 
 world, and again he came there when she was about 
 six years old, and that was the last time the two- 
 brothers ever saw each other. 
 
 Fifteen yeare had passed away since Arthur Gil- 
 mour first set his foot on the plains of India, and he 
 had now attained to the rank of major; his wdfe wa& 
 dead, his daughter growing up to womanhood, and 
 his own health beginning to suffer materially from 
 the effects of the climate. In consequence of the 
 latter circumstance, and for the sake of his daughter's 
 education, he became very anxious to return to 
 Europe, and was thinking of getting leave for a tem- 
 porary absence, when, by l^the sudden death of his 
 brother, he unexpectedly found himself in a condition 
 to retire from the army altogether, and he gladly 
 availed himself of it, as he had never had much 
 taste for a military career, except as being the most 
 gentlemanly profession a poor man could follow with 
 any chance of success. 
 
 Mr. Gilmour, who had never married, died a rich 
 man ; much richer, indeed, than the major had any 
 idea of until he received the news of his death, and 
 his will, both at the same time. To say that Major 
 Gilmour did not regret the loss of his brother, would 
 be to do him great injustice. As boys they had loved 
 each other ; and although separated by circumstances 
 in after-life, the feeling of fraternal affection had 
 never become extiiict in either. They seldom met ; 
 but whenever they did meet, it was as brothers, not 
 as strangers ; and for a time Major Gilmour lamented 
 sincerely the death of his only near relative, and 
 vainly wished he had been with him in his last hour; 
 nevertheless his sorrow did not render him wholly 
 
:|-3 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 insensible" to the~gratification of finding himself so 
 unexpectedly in possession of considerable wealth ; 
 and as Florence was now a great heiress, he began to 
 think it high time she should be instructed by able 
 masters, in such accomplishments as were befitting a 
 young lady in that position, and he hastened his 
 dej)arture accordingly. Having placed his daughter 
 at a first-rate school in the vicinity of Paris, he spent 
 some years in visiting different parts of the Conti- 
 nent, sojourning by turns in most of the principal 
 capitals ; and, at length, when Florence had com- 
 pleted her school education, he returned to England, 
 and settled permanently in London, where he took a 
 handsome house in Belgrave Square, furnished it in a 
 costly manner, and lived in the style of a man of 
 fortune. 
 
 Florence Gilmour was now in her twentieth year, 
 handsome, lively, and accomplished. Her father, 
 who since his accession to his brother's wealth, had 
 given the rein to his natural disposition, which was 
 proud, ambitious, and arbitrary, looked upon his 
 dauQfhter's attractions as the means wherebv his 
 family might be ennobled, and his own consequence 
 mcreased. With the blood of the Douglases in his 
 veins, and an ample share of the Avealth of the Indies 
 in his pockets, he considered his heiress a suitable 
 match for a man of high rank, and looked forward to 
 secure by such an alliance a title that would descend 
 to his grandchildren and their posterity ; but Florence 
 remained in happy ignorance of this scheme of ag- 
 grandisement, as he did not think it necessary to 
 explain his views and sentiments until an opj^ortunity 
 should offer of realising them. The world gave 
 Major Gilmour credit for being an affectionate and 
 indulgent father; for what has tjie world to judge 
 from, with regard to family affection, but those out- 
 ward manifestations that are so often only the silken 
 veil that conceals unpleasing features ? There was, in 
 truth, but little of parental tenderness in his ceremo- 
 nious attentions, and the extreme liberality with 
 
THE BKOTHERS BASSET] 13 
 
 wliicli he supplied her purse, and surrounded her 
 with every luxury that money could procure — for 
 these were not offerings to the child of his love, but 
 to the being on whom the future dignity of his house 
 depended. < 
 
 Florence, on her part, always behaved towards her 
 father with becoming respect, and never acted iii 
 direct opposition to his will ; but the haughty, over- 
 bearing manners he had acquired during his military 
 career, although somewhat tempered by the habits 
 and feelings of a gentleman, were so repellent, that 
 very few people could feel on easy and familiar terms 
 with him, and even his daughter experienced the 
 chilling effect of his usual demeanour to a degree 
 that prevented her from treating him with that loving 
 confidence a father might naturally look for from his 
 only child. But to this he was either insensible or 
 indifferent; and so long as she attended to his wishes, 
 forbore to irritate him by contradiction, and ministered 
 to his pride by the elegance of her appearance and 
 manners, he seemed to desire nothing more. 
 
 No sooner was Mr. Basset made aware, by the 
 public prints, that his former friend had returned, 
 than he hastened to welcome him back to his native 
 land; but he soon discovered that the wealthy major 
 was a veiy different person from the needy lieutenant 
 he had so often befriended in former years, and that 
 they could never again be on the same familiar terms 
 that had marked their earlier intimacy. The military 
 commander evidently felt, and intended to assert, by 
 manner at least, his superiority-' over the man of trade, 
 such distinctions being now of the highest import- 
 ance in his eyes ; and, although the intercourse be- 
 Itween them was renewed to a certain extent, there 
 was always a degree of ceremony and condescending 
 politeness in the major's manner whenever he entered 
 Mr. Basset's house, that seemed to say, " I am doing 
 you honour." 
 
 With Florence, however, the case was altogether 
 different, for she knew the Bassets were her mother's 
 
14 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 relations, and was delighted to find in the gentle 
 Olaudia and the lively Emily companions exactly 
 suited to her taste; therefore, notwithstanding the 
 Tepeated hints of the major; that, although he wished 
 to show a proper degree of civility to the family, there 
 was no necessity to keep up a very close intimacy, he 
 could neither prevent nor control the affection with 
 which the cousins, for such they considered tliem- 
 selves, soon learned to regard each other. 
 
 It was not more than three months after Major 
 Gilmour's settlement in that fashionable suburb of 
 the metropolis before mentioned, when he conde- 
 scended to accept an invitation to dine at Kensington, 
 and this was the occasion of the larg^ party now 
 assembled at the house of Mr. Basset. 
 
 CHAPTER III. ." - " 
 
 The dinner was over, and the ladies had returned to 
 the drawing-room, where, in the absence of the gen- 
 tlemen, some of them sought to beguile the time by 
 sundiy animadversions on the conduct of one or other 
 of their mutual friends not then and there present. 
 
 Amongst the pattern people who thus virtually set 
 up their own claims to perfection by passing censure 
 on all sorts of faults and follies appertaining unto 
 others, was a certain widow of an uncertain age 
 named Heaviside, whose dress and manners indicated 
 a decided taste for appearing on the right side of 
 forty, and a no less decided distaste for the melancholy 
 state of loneliness into which she had been plunged 
 by the demise of her late lord some fifteen months 
 since. 
 
 Her residence was in Hampshire, but she had 
 come to town to settle some law business connected 
 with her husband's will, and had brought with her a 
 dependent niece, Alice Compton, whose presence was 
 required as a witness, and who had been kindly in- 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 15 
 
 eluded in the invitation to dine at Kensington on the 
 day in question. Poor Alice would, perhaps, rather 
 have remained alone at the hotel where they were 
 staying, but her aunt insisted on her going, and she 
 had no choice but to comply. She had the appear- 
 ance of being about thirty years of age, but, in point 
 of fact, was not above five or six and twenty at most, 
 the homeliness of her features, and shabbiness of her 
 dress, making her look older than she really was. 
 The gown she wore was an old black silk that had 
 formed a part of her aunt s wardrobe at some remote 
 period of its history, but it was the best gown Miss 
 Compton possessed, and not feeling quite at her ease 
 amongst a number of people fashionably and elegantly 
 attired, she had taken up her position in the most 
 obscure corner of the room, where, for a time, she sat 
 unobserved, but not un observing ; a quiet spectator 
 of the scene rather than an actor in it. 
 
 We are sometimes told that it is wrong to judge by 
 outward appearances, and, certainly, in the case of 
 Mrs. Heaviside, it would have been very wrong in- 
 deed, for no one would have guessed, by any such 
 tokens, that she was a widow at all, and far less could 
 it have been surmised that her bereavement was of 
 such recent date. There was not even a plain gauze 
 lappet, or a vestige of white crape, to intimate the 
 ^^ct, but the cap worn by the relict of the late Josiah 
 ^Heaviside presented a marvellous combination of gay 
 owers, coloured ribbons and blond, that would no 
 oubt have been extremely mortifying to the said 
 osiah could he have seen them. The dress, too, 
 at accompanied this splendid head-gear was veiy 
 ecoming to Mrs. Heaviside, not in her capacity of 
 idow, for it was a yellow richly-brocaded satin ; but, 
 s a fair dame with flaxen linglets, it suited her re- 
 markably well. Now, whether these ringlets were her 
 own by the gift of Nature, or by right of purchase, it 
 matters not ; as, in either case, they assisted in 
 making up a very agreeable tout ensemble, and 
 although they might be waved, now and then, with 
 
16 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 mischievous 'intent before the eyes of unwary bache- 
 lors, the gentle waves of such graceful appendages 
 are very pleasant waves for a bachelor's peace of mind 
 to be wrecked upon 
 
 \ On the day in question their whole force had been 
 directed, during the progress of the dinner, against 
 Sir William Ferndale, a city knight, and the father 
 of Frank Ferndale, the affianced husband of Claudia 
 Basset. Sir William, who happened to be seated 
 next to the widow, had paid her the most particular 
 attention, inasmuch as he was greatly entertained by 
 some peculiar ideas and opinions expressed by the 
 lady, which betrayed a state of mind that ill-natured 
 people might have called ignorant— good-natured ones, 
 unsophisticated. Sir Wilham, being one of those 
 men who enjoy a joke at other people's expense, had 
 taken some pains to draw the widow out, and in so 
 doing had discovered that she had a vast deal of 
 imagination with a very small amomit of knowledge, 
 consequently he thought proper to amuse himself by 
 playing upon her credulity, and she left the table 
 with a firm conviction that he was the most polite 
 and well-informed man she had ever met with. 
 
 " Wliat a delightful creature that Sir William Fern- 
 dale is, my dear ! " she said to Emily Basset. " What 
 an intellectual mind he has ! " 
 
 " Has he ? " said Emily, laughing. " Well, as that 
 is rather an extraordinary species of mind, I shall 
 make a point of studying it at my leisure." 
 
 But Mrs. Heaviside's enthusiasm received a check 
 at a later period in the evening, for she was Sir 
 W^illiam's partner at a whist-table, and being, per- 
 haps, not quite so cool and self-possessed as when 
 playing with three dowagers in a country town, she 
 made several grievous blunders by which the odd 
 trick was lost in three successive deals, and as her 
 partner was betting half-crowns with his adversary, 
 he lost his temper, looked black as thunder, and ^ 
 made some remarks that were^anything but compli- 
 men-taay. -^ 
 
 J 
 
^^^^^^K tHE BROTIJEBS BASSET. l7 
 
 I lii the meantime Charles Basset was offering np 
 pis devotions at the shrine of the heautiful heiress, 
 Ivho hegan to suspect he was meditating a declaration 
 fchat she was anxious to avoid, and was rather desi- 
 rous of sparing him the pain of being rejected, by 
 Inaking him aware, indirectly, that such would be the 
 ■result. Not that she disliked him, for he had many 
 Estimable and agreeable qualities, but there was no- 
 Biing sufficiently striking in his character to touch 
 |lie heart of a girl like Florence Gilmour; who, 
 pevertheless, had too much regard for Charles to 
 ireat him with coldness or disdain, and as he was 
 Tjuite enough in love to build a vast structure of hope 
 upon a very slight foundation, he had drawn conclu- 
 . sions, or at least strong inferences, from the kindliness 
 of lier manner, that were entirely groundless. On 
 this evening she was especially careful not to afford 
 him the least opportunity of saying anything definite ; 
 but this was somewhat difficult, and once he was 
 very near touching upon the momentous question, 
 for as he was leaning over the back of Emily's chair 
 looking at a drawing she was showing to Miss Gil- 
 mour, she suddenly said in her playful manner, — 
 
 " Do you know, Florence, Charles is growing in- 
 tolerablv conceited : for when I told him we did not 
 w^ant him with us this morning, he said he knew 
 better." 
 
 " Nay, keep to the truth, Emily. Did I say I knew 
 better?" 
 
 " Something very like it, Charlie." 
 
 *' Indeed, Miss Gilmour, I neitlicr tliought nor said 
 .anything so impertinent." 
 
 pl " Pray, Mr. Charles, what did you say ? " she in- 
 '" quired. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Basset, who, as usual, was 
 reclining on a couch complaining of heat and fatigue, 
 reckoned to Emily, who ran to her immediately, 
 when her brother took the seat she had vacated, and 
 replied in a low voice to Florence's last ques- 
 tion, — * 
 
13 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 "What I said is not worth repeating; what I 
 thought I should be only too happy to have permis- 
 sion to tell you." 
 
 She instantly rose, saying gaily, "But I am not 
 inclined to listen to anything just now but that veiy 
 pretty song Mr. Ferndale is singing so sweetly." 
 And she walked towards the piano, followed by Charles, 
 who looked and felt disappointed. 
 
 Frank Ferndale, a tall, handsome, dashing young 
 man, was gifted with a fine voice, and, moreover, 
 usually sang with much taste and feeling, and with 
 the pleasant smile of one who is secure of admira- 
 tion ; but, on the present occasion, he did not appear 
 to be in a very good humour, and this was the cause. 
 Claudia had observed that Miss Compton was sitting 
 in a corner neglected and forlorn ; therefore, as soon 
 as she could find leisure to bestow a few minutes 
 upon her, she took a seat by her side and said, — 
 
 " I am afraid. Miss Compton, you will not^^be able 
 to find amusement among so many strangers. Do 
 you play or sing ? " 
 
 The poor dependant, unaccustomed to any sort of 
 attention, looked more surprised than pleased, think- 
 ing,"probably, that the question had in it less of kind- 
 ness than sarcasm ; but the gentleness of Claudia's 
 tone and manner soon set her at ease, and she an- 
 swered that she could do neither. 
 
 " I hope, then, you are fond of music, as that is 
 the only entertainment we can give you to-night." 
 
 *' I like some music, but I dare say it is such as is 
 quite out of fashion, and would be laughed at here." 
 
 " Ob, we are not very fashionable folks, I assure 
 you ; and if I knew what would suit your taste, I dare 
 say some of us would be able to gratify you." 
 
 " And would anybody here sing to gratify me ! " 
 said tlie poor girl, looking romid incredulously on the 
 rich silks, satins, and velvets, and then on her own 
 shabby black. 
 
 Claudia understood the feeling, and wishing tc 
 relieve it, replied, " Certainly, I should expect that 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 19 
 
 any one would be happy to do so, as you are the only 
 stranger in the room. Is there any song you Avould 
 like particularly to hear?" 
 
 " My mother used to sing many pretty Scotch bal- 
 lads. I have never heard one since." 
 
 The eyes of the speaker filled with tears as she 
 said these words, which seemed to awaken some pain- 
 ful remembrance ; yet she smiled too with looks of 
 grateful pleasure, when Claudia requested she would 
 mention the .song she would like best to heai% and 
 with some hesitation named ' Eoy's Wife.' 
 
 " Mr. Fenidale sings Scotch songs very nicely," said 
 Claudia, " an el I will ask him for that directly ; " and 
 going to Frank, who was lounging idly on a sofa, she 
 whispered, — " I wish you would sing ' Eoy's Wife' — 
 and I will accompany you." 
 
 " Eoy's Wife ! " he repeated with the utmost 
 astonishment — "What on earth for?" 
 
 " It is to please Miss Compton — she has had so 
 little amusement this evening that it makes me quite 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 " Which is Miss Compton ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Heaviside's niece — there — in black — ^near 
 the door." 
 
 " What — that queer looking old maid ? Surely you 
 don't mean that I am to sing an antiquated Scotch 
 song, and get myself laughed at, to please her ? " 
 
 " You run no risk of being laughed at, Frank ; for 
 however antiquated the song may be, your manner of 
 singing it makes it always delightful." 
 
 " Well, if you command it, of course I am bound 
 to obey," he said, rising with evident reluctance ; 
 " but I must confess it is a little outrageous to expect 
 me to sing an ancient ditty for the entertainment of 
 such an article as that ! " — and he glanced con- 
 temptuously towards the unconscious object of his 
 sarcasm. 
 
 Claudia looked grave — she felt displeased — for she 
 could not help seeing there was a selfishness and want 
 of good feeling in the conduct of Mr. Ferndale on 
 
so TUB BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 this trivial occasion, that augured ill for her future 
 happiness as depending on him ; and this was the 
 first moment she had found reason to be dissatisfied 
 with her handsome, accom2;)lished lover. However, 
 he sang the song, though witli rather an ill grace, 
 and her benevolent purpose was answered — more 
 fully answered, indeed, than she was herself aware of. 
 It seemed a mere trifle ; but who can estimate the 
 real value of such trifles except those to whom kind 
 attentions are unfamiliar things ! The slighted 
 dependant felt that something had been done for her 
 — that she had been treated, probably for the first 
 time in her life, as a guest whose entertainment was 
 to be cared for — and the unwonted pleasure springing 
 from this simple circumstance imparted a warmth to 
 her heart, and a lightness to her spirits, she had not 
 experienced for many a year. She never forgot it. 
 
 One more incident of this memorpble evening has 
 yet to be recorded. There was a remarkably hand- 
 some young military officer, an intimate friend of 
 Charles Basset, but a stranger to the rest of the 
 family, who had been asked to join the party in the 
 evening, and accordingly made his appearance about 
 ten o'clock, when he was introduced by Charles to his 
 mother and sisters as ensign Claverton of the Nine- 
 teenth. He seemed quite enchanted by the youthful 
 beauty and lively manners of Emily Basset, and took 
 occasion to say to Charles, — 
 
 ** By Jove, Basset, your sister is the loveliest Hebe 
 that ever dazzled the eyes of a poor unlucky fellow like 
 me, with a gold epaulette, and an empty pocket ! " 
 
 Charles laughed, and told him he had better take 
 care of himself, as Emily was an incorrigible flirt; 
 and, on this hint, the handsome ensign devoted his 
 whole attention to her during the rest of the evening, 
 and she was nothing loth to receive it. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 21 
 
 CHAPTER lY. ; 
 
 Charles Basset retired to rest that night not quite 
 satisfied with the result of his first experiment on the 
 heart of the eastern beauty. She had evidently 
 evaded a more explicit avowal of his sentiments, con- 
 sequently she must have known or at least suspected 
 what he was going to say. Whether this was, or was 
 not, a discouraging circumstance he could not exactly 
 determine in his own mind, but he inclined to the 
 latter opinion. She did not dislike him — he was 
 pretty sure of that — and, in fact, he saw no particular 
 reason why she should ; therefore he succeeded at 
 last in quieting his own apprehensions, and fell asleep. 
 Still the train of thought did not stop, but it went on 
 in utter defiance of order and reason. 
 
 He dreamed that he was walking with Florence in 
 a quiet grove, urging his suit, to which she seemed to 
 listen kindly, when, on a sudden, the scene changed 
 to the interior of a gloomy church, where they stood 
 before the altar in almost total darkness, while the priest 
 read the marriage ceremony. As he closed his book the 
 church became illuminated by a glare of red light, 
 streaming in at all the windows ; the bells began to 
 ring witli loud discordant sounds, the beating of 
 
3Ji THE BHOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 drums was heard outside, and deafening shouts were 
 raised by the mob to hail the newly-married pair. 
 
 He awoke and started up in affright, for these sounds 
 were no fiction of the brain, but the drums and church 
 bells of his dream Avere in reality a violent knocking 
 and ringing at the house-door. The servants from 
 the windows above were calling out to the people in 
 the street, and amidst the incoherent jargon of ques- 
 tions and answers that met his ear, Charles plainly 
 distinguished the word " Fire ! " 
 
 Terribly alarmed, he wrapped his dressing-gown 
 round him, thrust his feet hastily into his slippers, 
 and rushing down the stairs met his father just com- 
 ing out of his own room. By this time the street 
 door had been opened, and there was a great con- 
 fusion of voices in the hall. 
 
 " For G od's sake, Davis, what's the matter ? " said 
 Mr. Basset to a man who was coming up the stairs 
 hurriedly, and whom he recognised as one of his own 
 city porters. 
 
 " The warehouses are on fire, sir," replied the man, 
 panting for breath ; " the engines were hard at work 
 when I came away, but the flames had got ahead then, 
 and I'm afraid the place can't be saved." 
 
 Mr. Basset's first impulse was to exclaim, " Thank 
 God the insurance is paid ! " 
 
 " It is not paid ! " cried Charles, clasping his hands 
 wildly. " My father — ^my father, I have i-uined you! " 
 The unfortunate man heard only the first words, 
 which came upon him like a death blow ; he staggered 
 back a few paces, uttered a deep groan, and fell sense- 
 less upon the floor. 
 
 The two sisters, pale and trembling, half dressed, 
 with shawls wrapped about them, now appeared ; and, 
 thinking the house was on fire, anxiouslyj inquired if 
 their mother was safe. 
 
 " The fire is not here, miss," said Barnes, speaking 
 to Claudia; " it is in tbe city." 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed both the girls at 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 33 
 
 once, very much relieved, and little dreaming that the 
 calamity was infinitely greater as it was ; for Mr. 
 Basset, being a dilatory man, seldom doing that to- 
 day which might be put off till to-morrow, ; had 
 delayed paying the premium on his insurance for 
 thirty thousand pounds till the very last day allowed 
 by the company beyond that when the term expired, 
 and then, as he did not happen to be going into the 
 city himself, he gave his son a check for the amount 
 desiring him to call and pay it. Charles forgot to do 
 so, and thus the policy had become void. 
 
 " See to your father, Claudia," said Charles, pointing 
 to the old man who was still lying insensible on the 
 floor, and in the partial darkness had been unob- 
 served until this moment, when one of the servants 
 was endeavouring to raise him in her arms. His 
 terrified daughters assisted in carrying him back to 
 his bed, whilst Charles, scarcely knowing what he did, 
 flew down tlie stairs and out of the house, but before 
 he had gone many yards he was stopped by Barnes, 
 who, having heard what had passed, guessed how the 
 case stood, and followed his young master in the fear 
 that he might commit some act of desperation. 
 
 "Where are you going, Mr. Charles?" he asked. 
 
 " To the city — why do you ask me, Barnes ? I 
 must go — there is no time to be lost." 
 
 " But you must not go out so, sir* Come back to 
 your room and let me help you to dress yourself — 
 Davis, you can run and find a cab for Mr. Charles, 
 and go with him into the city." 
 
 And the goodnatured footman, half by persuasion, 
 half by force, succeeded in getting him back into the 
 house, and assisted him to dress. 
 
 All this time he did not speak a single word, except 
 to mutter to himself now and then, " Oh, God ! tliis 
 is dreadful ! " to which the man soothingly respond- 
 ed, — 
 
 " Don't take on so, sir — it mayn't be so bad as you 
 think, after all,' 
 
84 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 A cab was speedily procured, and the miserable 
 young man, attended by the porter, took his way 
 towards the scene of destruction. And oh ! what a 
 scene it was for him. The frightful glare of the 
 flames that were still furiously raghig; the dense 
 clouds of smoke; the streams of water pouring through 
 the narrow streets ; the hoarse shouts of the firemen, 
 the roar of the engines, and the din of tlie mob trying 
 to force its way, in spite of the police, nearer to ^-lo 
 burning pile ; all these were honible sights and sounds 
 for one who knew they were the harbingers of inevit- 
 able ruin wrought by his own neglect. '": 
 
 " You cannot pass," said a policeman to tlie driver 
 of the cab. 
 
 " He must pass," replied the porter on the box. " It 
 is Mr. Basset." 
 
 At this intimation way was made, and the vehicle 
 was allowed to proceed, but it could not get far down 
 the street, which was blocked up by the engines, 
 therefore Charles got out and made his way, followed 
 by the porter, to the spot where his father's ware- 
 houses had stood, for, alas ! they were standing no 
 longer, and the efforts of the firemen were now 
 directed towards the preservation of the adjoining 
 buildings, from which quantities of goods w^ere being 
 removed in haste and confusion. But of all Mr. 
 Basset's valuable stock, not a single bale had been 
 saved from the flames — the wreck was awful and 
 complete. Charles gazed with mute horror on the 
 melancholy spectacle, and in the frenzy of despair, 
 could scarcely be withheld from rushing into the^midst 
 of the burning iniins, with a vague idea that some- 
 thing might still be saved ; and once a fearful idea 
 crossed his mind that he might avoid the sight of 
 the misery he had brought upon the family, by putting 
 an end to his own existence. But this was only a 
 passing thought, for the evil spirit that prompts men 
 in their moments of weakness, to defy the laws of 
 God and man, and presumptuously force then' way to 
 
THB BROTHERS BASSET. 25 
 
 the judgment-seat uncalled for and unprepared, was 
 instantly subdued by a still small voice that whispered 
 to his heart, " Do not add guilt to error, nor increase 
 your father's sorrows by selfishly terminating your 
 own." 
 
 In about half an hour Barnes arrived with a 
 message from his master, requesting that Charles 
 would go home directly. 
 
 " Does my father know this ?" said Charles, point- 
 ing [mournfully to] the mins. Does ho know that 
 eveiything is destroyed ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; one of the men had come to tell him so 
 just before I started." 
 
 " I cannot go home, Barnes ; I dare not.'' 
 
 •' Oh ! Mr. Charles — don't talk so, sir — you can do 
 no good by staying here ; and to give way in this 
 manner is only making bad worse. Come, sir, come 
 away — let me take you home — ^}^ou will be better 
 there, I am sure." 
 
 Charles was at length, with some difficulty, pre- 
 vailed upon to return; but, instead of going to his 
 father, he went to his own room and sent for Claudia, 
 who was yet but imperfectly acquainted with the 
 extent of the calamity that had befallen them. Mr. 
 Basset had never been in the habit of saying much 
 about his affairs to his wife and daughters, who, in 
 common with the rest of the world, believed him to 
 be a rich man ; but this was not the fact ; for the 
 whole of his capital, as Charles well knew, was 
 embarked in trade, and he had for many years lived 
 up to the very extent of the income derived from it, 
 ^ which was about two thousand a-year. The stock 
 had been always insured for thirty thousand pounds ; 
 but even this sum v/ould not have been sufficient to 
 cover the present loss ; for it unfortunately happened 
 that a fresh importation of goods from Lyons had 
 been cleared from the Custom House only a few days 
 before, and Mr. Basset had intended, in consequence, 
 to effect a separate insurance in another office for ten 
 
26 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 thousand pounds ; but, with his usual tardiness, he 
 had put it off from day to day, and the evil was now 
 without remedy. 
 
 Claudia could not altogether conceal the shock she 
 felt, on learning now, for the first time, the true state 
 of her father's circumstances. She saw plainly there 
 was nothing to save him from absolute ruin, yet she 
 made an effort to suppress her own feelings as much 
 as possible, and ti'ied by every gentle argument that 
 affection could suggest, to console her brother and 
 reconcile him to himself. At length daylight began 
 to appear, when Charles, exhausted with fatigue and 
 violent emotions, consented to tiy and take some 
 rest; and when Claudia had left him for that purpose, 
 he threw himself on the bed without undressing, and 
 soon fell into a deep sleep, from which he did not 
 awake for several hours. 
 
THE BBOTHERS BASSET. 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 There are few sensations more exquisitely painful 
 than that of awaking, under distressing circumstances, 
 from a temporary oblivion of our sorrows, to the 
 returning consciousness of their reality. How, for a 
 moment, do we cling to the hope that all may have 
 been but a dream ; and what a sickening of the heart 
 there comes as that hope fades into nothingness ! 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock when Charles awoke with 
 a confused idea that something terrible had happened, 
 but his brain was still haunted by an indistinct recol- 
 lection of his previous dream, which so mingled itself 
 with the frightful events of the night, that the whole 
 seemed for an instant to be but the illusion , of a 
 ^I'oubled sleep ; but, as the fatal truth forced itself 
 ^pon his mind in all its sad certainty, he buried his 
 face in the pillow and wept bitterly. From this state 
 he was aroused by Claudia, who came to the bedside, 
 
 tnd spoke to him softly, — 
 " Dear Charles, will you not come down and have 
 some breakfast?" 
 
 " No, I cannot ; I want nothing." 
 " But, indeed, you must take something. Shall I 
 bring you a cup of coffee here?" 
 
 To this he assented, and while she was gone he got 
 
28 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 up, washed his hands and face, and put on his usual 
 morning dress. By the time he had done all this, 
 Claudia returned witli some coffee and toast, whicli 
 he did not refuse ; for he really stood in need of 
 some refreshment, although he could not bear the 
 thought of appearing at the breakfast table. 
 
 " Where is my father ?" he inquired, in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 *'He is in the dining-room, and you must go to 
 him presently, for he wishes to see you." 
 
 " Oh, Claudia ! that is what I dread." 
 
 ^' You need not, Charles ; for he is too kind and 
 just, I am sure, to make a crime of an act of forget- 
 fulness, and that is the worst that can be said of it, 
 however serious its consequences may be." 
 t " No, Claudia, it is not the worst that can be said. 
 I told him the money was paid, and I deserve his 
 reproaches for the lie as well as for the neglect." 
 
 " Even that was in some degree excusable," said 
 the gentle girl, " and your father knows you would 
 not have deceived him from any other motive than to 
 save him from useless anxiety." 
 
 Charles sighed deeply, and asked how his mother 
 had borne the shock. 3 
 
 Claudia said she Avas very much indisposed, but 
 was afraid to tell him how seriously she was affected, 
 fearing that it would make him still more reluctant to 
 see his father ; and she hoped that when that dreaded 
 meeting was once over, he would recover his com- 
 posure, and be able to contemplate with fortitude the 
 evils that must inevitably follow the last night's awful 
 catastrophe. 
 
 After much persuasion, he at length summoned 
 courage to go'^down stairs, but stood for some time 
 with his hand on the handle of the dining-room door, 
 before he could find resolution to open it ; hoAvever, 
 he knew that, sooner or later, the dreaded interview 
 must take place; and, after a painful struggle with 
 his own feelings, he entered the room. 
 
TUB BKOTHEES BASSET. S9 
 
 Mr. Basset was alone, sitting in an attitude of pro* 
 
 iind thought, with his eyes fixed on the ground ; 
 
 ut, on hearing the door opened, he looked up, and 
 
 seeing his son, held out his hand with a faint smile. 
 
 I'oor Charles rushed forward, and throwing himself at 
 is feet, exclaimed wildly, — 
 " Oh, my father ! do not curse me ! " 
 The unfortunate man, overcome with emotion, 
 urst into tears ; and putting his hand on his son's 
 ead, as in the act of pronouncing a blessing, said in 
 tone of deep feeling, — 
 " No, Chaiies, no. God knows your punishment 
 will be heavy enough, my poor boy, without that. 
 
 i\o, no ; ruin may come — death may come. I will 
 ear it all as I may; but I will never curse my son." 
 Kindness is [sometimes harder to bear than re- 
 roaches ; and while his heart acknowledged with 
 gratitude the forbearance of his indulgent parent, the 
 Ifcelf accuser felt that it would add to the bitterness of 
 IKis own remorse; and, covering his face with his 
 IJands, sobbed aloud. The father and son remained 
 "ogether during the greater part of that miserable 
 morning; and it is strange to say, that the former, 
 who, it might naturally have been supposed, stood 
 most in need of consolation, was the one to admi- 
 ister it. Again and again did he assure Charles of 
 is perfect forgiveness, and never, perhaps, had the 
 le of affection been stronger between them than 
 was now. In the meantime Claudia and Emily 
 ere fully occupied with their mother, w4io had 
 ever once spoken since the fatal words reached her 
 ar, that announced her husband's total ruin. The 
 octor, who constantly attended her, on calling that 
 orning, said that she was suffering under a slight 
 stroke of paralysis, from which she would probably 
 rally in the course of a day or two ; but it was 
 evident from his manner, that he had grave doubts on 
 the subject. This, however, was carefully concealed 
 from Charles, who was told that, as Mr. Saunders 
 
30 THE BROTEIERS BASSET. 
 
 recommended his mother should be kept partlculai'ly 
 quiet, he had better not go in to see her ; and he was 
 glad to be spared, for that day at least, what he feared 
 would be a very painful scene. In the course of the 
 morning many cards were left, and notes of condo- 
 lence sent by people who had not the smallest sus- 
 picion of the revolution that had taken place in Mr. 
 Basset's affairs ; for if the truth had been generally 
 known, it is veiy possible that such tokens of sym- 
 pathy would have been less numerous. 
 
 Barnes had received positive orders to admit no 
 visitors, on the plea that his mistress was seriously 
 indisposed ; and this excuse had been made to several 
 callers ; but, about three o'clock, a neat close carriage, 
 driven by a man in livery, stopped at the door, and 
 the coachman gave in a card, on which was inscribed 
 " Mr. George Ingleby," at the same time inquiring if 
 Mr. Basset was at home. Barres gave the same 
 answer he had given to others, but the gentleman in 
 the carriage said that he had called on business 
 of great importance, and wished that Mr. Basset 
 should be informed he was there, and he should 
 be glad to see him for a few minutes. Barnes 
 returned instantly, and said his master would be 
 happy to see Mr. Ingleby ; on which the gentleman 
 alighted, and was ushered into the dining-room, 
 where Charles and his father were still together. 
 The visitor walked straight up to Mr. Basset, with 
 looks expressive of tlie deepest concern, and, as he 
 shook his hand with friendly warmth, said, — 
 
 " Why, Basset — what is the meaning of all this 
 that I hear ? What, on earth, can be the reason you 
 have let the time run out ? Surely, there must be 
 some mistake about it — ^j-^ou never could be so mad ! " 
 
 " There has been a mistake, indeed," Mr. Basset 
 replied, sadly ; " and I am afraid the error cannot 
 now be rectified." 
 
 "But how did it arise? Is it on your part, oi 
 ours ? " 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 81 
 
 " It is on mine, sir," said Charles, coming forward. 
 " My father trusted to me, and I neglected to make 
 the payment," 
 
 Mr. Ingieby turned abruptly towai'ds him with a 
 severe look, intending to utter some very harsh re- 
 buke ; but the moment he cast his eyes on the face 
 of the penitent, all his anger was lost in compassion, 
 and he only said, " Young gentleman, I am sorry for 
 you." But the tone of heartfelt pity in which these 
 words were uttered was too much for poor Charles, 
 ^who rushed out of the room, while his father mur- 
 ■mured to himself, " Poor Charles ! poor fellow !" 
 B Mr. Ingieby, who was one of the directors of the 
 Fire Office where Mr. Basset's property had been 
 insured; had come to him for the benevolent 2:)urpose 
 of seeing whether there was any ground for claiming 
 the benefit of the policy that had been so carelessly 
 forfeited ; but when he heard the particulars he shook 
 Bins head, saying, there certainly could be no legal 
 ■ clahn, although it was his own opinion that, as Mr. 
 B.Basset had given his son the money before the ex- 
 piration of the term, it ought to be considered that 
 he had in fact paid it ; but this, he confessed, was a 
 point of honour, not law, and might be withstood. 
 However, his advice was, that an appeal should be 
 made to the Board of Directors, and he promised to 
 use all his influence in support of it. 
 
 " I know some of them are hard men," he said, 
 " but we must tiy them, at any rate ; and if we can 
 only get a majority in our favour, all may be well yet." 
 Mr. Basset was not very sanguine as to the success 
 of such an application ; but he fully appreciated the 
 kindness of his friendly adviser, who, after a little 
 more conversation, took his leave with a cordiality that 
 seemed to say, he did not intend that the intimacy 
 thus begun should drop here, for although he had 
 long known Mr. Basset in business, this was the first 
 time he had ever been in his house, and he was un- 
 acquainted with any of his family. 
 Mr, Ingieby had not been long gone when Frank 
 
8'2 tim Bl^OTHEES BASSET. 
 
 Ferndale knocked at the door, and was walking in, as 
 usual, without ceremony, when he w^as stopi;)ed by 
 Barnes, who said, — 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you had bet- 
 ter not go in." 
 
 "Not go in— why?" 
 
 ** My mistress is veiy bad, sir, and the young 
 ladies can't leave her ; and my master and Mr. Charles 
 don't see anybody." 
 
 " Anybody — I suppose that means any strangers ; 
 but it cannot have anything to do with me, I should 
 think." 
 
 "Well, sir, I don't know — that was my orders. 
 Master is almost beside himself, and Mr. Charles is 
 just like any one distracted ; so, sir, excuse me, but I 
 think you had better not see them to-day." 
 
 " But I must see somebody, Barnes, for I cannot 
 understand all this. A fire is a veiy unfortunate 
 thing of course ; but why it is to drive eveiybody 
 distracted, I really do not comprehend." 
 
 " Well, sir, I suppose there will be no hann in 
 mentioning it to you, though I have not said a syl- 
 lable of the matter to any one else ; but I fancy Mr. 
 Charles forgot to j)ay up the insurance, and the fire 
 office people won't pay the damage, and so m.y master 
 will lose every^thing." 
 
 Frank was thunderstruck. He knew that the loss 
 in this case must be enormous, and saw at once how 
 materially his own interests were involved in tlie 
 startling intelligence. 
 
 "Good God!" he involuntarily exclaimed; "that 
 is a serious affair, indeed. Say I called, Barnes, 
 will you ; and that I will look in again in the evenin 
 — if I can." And he hurried off to the city to make 
 further inquiries. 
 
 In the evening he received a note from Claudia 
 requesting tliat he would absent himself for a few 
 days, and he was by no meanf5 unwilling to avail him- 
 self of this respite. 
 
 re 
 
 o 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 33 
 
 Among the notes that day received was one from 
 Florence Gilmom% addressed to Emily, written appa- 
 rently in haste, and without any knowledge of what 
 had happened. These were its contents : — 
 
 ^' My dear Emily, 
 
 ■ " My father has just received a letter which 
 ohliges him to set off for Edinburgh immediately; 
 
 Itnd as it is his will and pleasure that I shall accom- 
 >any him, he has given the word of command for 
 pie to pack up and be in readiness to mai^ch by 
 welve o'clock, so that I have only just time to let 
 you know of this hasty movement, which will ac- 
 l^ount for my not calling on you to-day as I promised. 
 IWl hope we shall not be absent more than three or 
 four weeks at the most ; but I understand we are to 
 ay a visit on our way to Brianscourt, the seat of 
 ord Merrington, an old friend of my father, and, I 
 ould imagine from all I hear about him, rather a 
 ough specimen of English nobility. He has been 
 the navy, and is the uncle of that Captain Romer 
 hom I so much dislike. I half suspect that Major 
 ilmour has some latent motive of ambition in 
 oosing to make this visit when I am with him ; 
 ut, if so, I shall take especial care to counteract his 
 esigns. I cannot tell you where to write to me, as 
 am unacquainted with our precise destination ; so 
 dieu for the present, dearest Emily, 
 
 " Your very affectionate, 
 " Elorence Gtlmour." 
 
 The lively strain of this epistle was in sad dis- 
 cordance with the feelings of poor Emily, who read 
 tt as she sat with tearful eyes by the bedside of her 
 "grief-stricken mother. 
 
 " I must not show this to Charles," she said to 
 herself, " for he will have to give up all thoughts of 
 Florence now." 
 
 Then she began to reflect on tlie probable conse* 
 
 3 
 
M THE BROTHERS BASSET." ' 
 
 quences to herself and her sister of such a sudden 
 reverse of fortune ; but it is difficult for those who 
 have never known privation, to realise it to them- 
 selves until it is actually seen and felt ; and so long 
 as she beheld around her the luxuries to which she 
 had ever been accustomed, the want of them was an 
 abstruse idea that scarcely took the form of anything 
 real. Neither did she contemplate the cold looks, 
 the altered tones, that add to the bitterness of fallen 
 fortunes ; a hard lesson to learn at any period of our 
 existence, but hardest of all in the spring time of 
 life, ere the " couleur de rose " that makes the world 
 so bright and beautiful has been darkened by the 
 clouds of experience. 
 
THE BrvOTIIERS BASSET'. S5 
 
 CHAPTER YI. t ; 
 
 SiK William Feendale was a -wine-merchant, in 
 .easy but not affluent circumstances ; and his family 
 consisted of three sons, the eldest of whom, Frank, 
 had lately entered for the bar, and was in a fair way 
 of rising rapidly, as his family connections were such 
 as were likely to accek'-rate liis advancement in that 
 career. Sir William was indebted for his title to the 
 simple fact of having presented an address to the 
 sovereign on some special occasion from the worthy 
 citizens of London, some of whom were facetious 
 enough to say that " the whole affair being a piece of 
 presumption, the wine-merchant was knighted for 
 his daring deeds ; " but as these wits were certain evil- 
 minded common councilmen of a radical turn, who had 
 voted against the said address, the noble knight was 
 unmoved by this sarcasm, and bore his blushing 
 honours with becoming dignity. There was no Lady 
 Ferndale at present, but as Sir William was a good- 
 looking man, not much more than fifty, there was a, 
 chance that he might yet confer that title on some 
 fortunate fair one; consequently he enjoyed an im- 
 mense degree of popularity in the most polite circles 
 
36 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 at the East end of the great metropolis ; but he was 
 a cautious man, and knew enough of the world to be 
 on his guard against allurements that might have 
 proved fatal to less experienced campaigners, and it 
 began to be currently reported that Sir William Fern- 
 dale was not a marrying man. 
 
 His residence was one of the best houses in Fins- 
 bury Square,] and in a handsomely furnished apart- 
 ment of that domicile he and his eldest son were at 
 breakfast together, with two or three of the morning 
 papers on the table before them. All of these con- 
 tained paragraphs relative to the ruinous losses sus- 
 tained by Mr. Basset, in consequence of the late fire, 
 and both father and son were more silent and thought- 
 ful than usual. Each had taken up the several jour- 
 nals in turn, and read aloud the various accounts 
 given of the accident without a word of comment ; 
 but Sir William at length broke the ice by saying, — 
 
 " This is an awkward affair, Frank." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; it is — rather, but there's no way of 
 helping it, tliat I see." And he looked into his cup, 
 and began to stir his coffee with persevering in- 
 dustry. 
 
 " A deuced awkward affair, certainly," continued 
 his father in a musing tone, as if he were speaking to 
 himself; then, after a pause, during which he cast 
 his eyes over one of the paragraphs before-mentioned, 
 he said, as if in answer to his son's remark, " No — I 
 don't see indeed how we are to get out of it with 
 
 honour — and' yet " Here he made another long 
 
 pause, then said, " I suppose you are attached to this 
 young lady, Frank?" 
 
 "\Vhy, sir, a man would hardly offer himself 
 to any woman unless he cared something about 
 her." 
 
 " No, certainly not — of course not — still " and 
 
 he paused again for a few moments, while Frank 
 continued to stir his coffee with compressed lips and 
 thoughtful brow ; *' still, Frank, I should imagine 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 37 
 
 that, if you had not ah-eady made the proposal, you 
 would think twice before you did so now." 
 
 " Very likely, sir." 
 
 " I wish there had been some stipulation about a 
 settlement," said Sir William ; " then there would 
 have been a fair ground for breaking off the engage- 
 ment; but who was to foresee such a casualty as 
 this?" 
 
 Frank made no reply. 
 
 " It strikes me, Frank, that if you could withdraw 
 honourably — mind, I say lionourahly — you would not 
 be very sorry to do so." 
 
 " I do not see how it could be done honourably," 
 replied Frank, looking up, and leaning back in his 
 chair. " All the world knows I am engaged to Miss 
 Basset, ""and a fine hubbub there would be, if I 
 were to break off on account of this cursed acci- 
 dent." 
 
 " Oh ! as to that, the world does not trouble itself 
 much about such affairs, depend upon it," said Sir 
 William with a smile ; for he was now perfectly satis- 
 fied as to his son's feelings on the subject, of which 
 he had been rather in doubt. " We must think the 
 
 I matter over. I hope I am not more worldly-minded 
 than other men ; yet, I must own I should not like to 
 gee the prospects of any one of my sons ruined by 
 an imprudent marriage. Nothing is a greater bar to 
 a young man's prosperity than marrying into a poor 
 family ; it is a thing to be avoided, if joossible. How 
 
 I should you like to go to Paris for a few weeks, 
 Frank?" 
 "I should have no objection, sir." 
 " Why, there's that business of Lafont's ; I want 
 to get it settled as soon as I can, and it would be very 
 inconvenient to me to leave town just now; so if you 
 could go for me, I really should be glad." ^ 
 
 '* When do you wish me to go ?" 
 " The sooner the better, for I want the money. Can 
 you start to-morrow?" 
 
38 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 " Yes ; there is nothing to prevent me that I know 
 of." 
 
 " Very well, then let it he so. I saw Ingleby yes- 
 terday, and he told me there was going to bo an 
 appeal made to the Board about the insurance, but I 
 doubt whether it will do any good." 
 
 " I should think not, sir. I know two or three of 
 the Directors, and am pretty sure they are not the 
 men to pay a farthing more than they are obliged, and 
 I really don't see why they should," 
 
 " I am pretty much of the same opinion," said Sir 
 William ; " however, we may as well wait to know tho 
 result. Where are you going now ? " 
 
 " To the chambers. If I am to be off to-morrow, 
 I must leave some directions with Frampton. (Framp- 
 ton was his clerk.) You dine with the Goldsmiths 
 to-day, sir, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; now Frank, if you have any objection to this 
 Paris trip, say so at once, and I will manage some 
 other way. ' 
 
 t " No, sir; none in the world. I can easily be back 
 by Sessions, for there are three weeks good yet ; so I 
 shall be quite ready to start to-morrow morning." 
 
 This point being settled, Frank wrote to Claudia 
 Basset to inform her of his intended journey, and 
 express his regret at not having time to see her before 
 his departure. There was nothing in the letter that 
 could absolutely be called cold or wanting in kind- 
 ness ; yet, on the whole, its tone was unsatisfactory, 
 and afforded neither pleasure nor consolation. Claudia 
 sighed with an midefined feeling of disappointment 
 as she read it; the recollection of his behaviour the 
 night before, with regard to Miss Compton, came to 
 her mind ; and, for the second time, she said to herself, 
 " Is this a man to make me happy?" 
 
 Sir William Ferndale dined that day in the splendid 
 Hall of the Goldsmiths' Company, of which body he 
 was a member; and there lie found himself seated 
 next to Mr. Ingleby, who also belonged to the same 
 
THE BROTHEKS BASSET. 39 
 
 wealthy corporation. At these city dinners it would 
 appear as if men had no other object in meeting 
 together but to dine ; and this operation is usually 
 performed in a masterly style. Now Sir William 
 Ferndale enjoyed a good dinner as well as any one ; 
 and during its progress his conversation with his 
 neighbours on either hand was limited to the merits 
 of the turtle-soup, iced champagne, and other good 
 things of this life, which abound at the tables of the 
 citizens of London, who certainly have no taste for 
 Spartan fare. It was not, therefore, till after the 
 health of the sovereign had been duly honoured by 
 tliat tremendous uproar, denominated ' three times 
 three' — a relic of barbarism that might aslwell be 
 banished from civilised society — that Sir iWilliam 
 began to converse on general topics with Mr. Ingleby 
 and amongst other things they talked of the calamity 
 that had so lately befallen Mr. Basset. 
 
 "Will the company do anything for him?" Sir 
 William inquired. 
 
 " No — I am sorry to say — nothing. I made as 
 strong an appeal as I could, and two or three of them 
 voted with me in favour of the claim ; but the ma- 
 jority were against it ; so there is nothing to be done." 
 
 " It is exactly what I expected — thirty thousand 
 pounds is a large sum." 
 
 " Yes, but the company is rich enough ; and the 
 case a very peculiar one— not likely to occur again." 
 
 " True ; and I wish they had taken that view of it, 
 with all my heart, for I am afraid it must be a bank- 
 ruptcy ; he will not be able to stand such a loss, I 
 
 imagme." 
 
 " Yet, he has always had the reputation of being a 
 wealthy man," said Mr. Ingleby. " But I dare say 
 you can pretty well judge of the state of his affairs, 
 as I understand you are likely to be veiy closely con- 
 nected." 
 
 " You are alluding to the daughter, I suppose, and 
 my son Frank. There is an engagement, certainly ; 
 
40 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 but it was made under such very different 'circum- 
 stances, that T should think it can hai'dly be con- 
 sidered binding." 
 
 Mr. Ingleby took a very prolonged pinch of snuff, 
 and when he had completed that operation, he said, — 
 
 " What are the young gentleman's sentiments on 
 the subject?" 
 
 " Why, between you and me, I believe he is wise 
 enough to think as I do, that it would be better for 
 all parties if no such engagement subsisted." 
 
 " Humph ! Then it ought not to subsist a moment 
 longer." 
 
 " I am glad you see the matter in that light," said 
 Sir William, *' for, I confess, I should be glad to get 
 Frank out of this scrape, if it were possible." 
 
 " And what is to make it impossible?" 
 
 " Why, there is a certain amount of regard to be 
 paid to the opinions of the world ; and, besides, I am 
 afraid there is sufficient ground for an action." 
 
 An almost imperceptible smile passed over the 
 features of Mr. Ingleby, as he had recourse to another 
 long pinch of snuff, then said, — 
 
 " You seem to have no doubt that your son is will- 
 ing to give up tlie lady?" 
 
 ^ " None whatever. In fact, I had some conversation 
 with him this morning about it, and was glad to find 
 that he takes a very sensible view of the case. Frank 
 is no fool ; and he knows very well that his own future 
 position in life depends on keeping himself free from 
 difficulties at the outset." 
 
 •' Amazingly prudent, indeed, for so young a man," 
 observed Mr. Ingleby, drily. " With such notions as 
 those he will be sure to make his way in the world." 
 
 Sir William Femdale was clear sighted enough to 
 perceive the remark was more ironical than approv- 
 ing ; yet, as it suited his purpose to obtain an opinion 
 in favour of breaking off the projected alliance from 
 a man so highly respected as Mr. Ingleby, he asked 
 him what he would do under similar circumstances. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. dl 
 
 " What I would do," he replied, "I am not quite 
 clear myself, nor does it much signify ; but it appears 
 to me there is no question what you ought to do ; at 
 least, to a man of my plain way of thinking there is 
 but one right course to pursue." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "It is a very straightforward one. Write a letter 
 to Mr. Basset, stating fairly what your sentiments are 
 with regard to this unfortunate engagement, and say 
 that, under existing circumstances, you think it desir- 
 able that it should proceed no further ; then, if I have 
 any knowledge of the man, you will receive such an 
 answer as will release your son, and secm'e him 
 against any proceedings in a court of law." 
 
 Another quiet smile accompanied these last words, 
 
 the meaning of which it was not easy to define ; but 
 
 if Sir William was not quite pleased with the look 
 
 and tone of the speaker, he liked the advice, and 
 
 ^made up his mind to act upon it. 
 
42 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Brianscoutit, the seat of Lord Merrington, was situ- 
 ated in that part of Nottinghamshire which was the 
 site of the ancient forest of Sherwood, so renowned 
 in olden times for the daring exploits of the bold 
 robber, w^ho, like many other heroes of antiquity, 
 built up for himself a lasting fame on rather a dis- 
 creditable foundation. 
 
 Now it is very clear that the noble mansion which 
 it is here convenient to term Brianscourt, could not 
 have been in existence in the days of Robin Hood 
 and Richard Coeur-de-Lion, nor long aftenvards ; but 
 it was certainly older than the time of Elizabeth, 
 or even of her doughty sire, and might possibly have 
 originated with the improved taste that began to ex- 
 hibit itself under the auspices of the seventh Henry, 
 when so many of the English nobility, forbidden to 
 maintain their own private armies, converted their 
 rude castles into magnificent edifices better suited to 
 a more pacific and less barbarous age than that which 
 followed the wars of York and Lancaster. The 
 present lord of the domain had ser\'ed in the navy 
 during the greater part of his life, and had attained 
 to the rank of Admii^al, when he unexpectedly sue 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET.- 43 
 
 cceded to his present title, and the estate thereunto 
 belonging, by an extraordinary fatality, that had car- 
 ried off three intermediate heirs in the brief space of 
 one year. lie was a fine-looking, portly old man, 
 rather bald, with an aquiline nose and a florid com- 
 plexion, a gentleman by birth and education ; but by 
 no means remarkable either for the refinement of his 
 manners, or the temperance of his habits, liis mar- 
 lied life had been far from happy, for his lady, 
 who had been forced into the marriage against her 
 inclinations, and was moreover of a very unamiable 
 temper, took care to make him as uncomfortable as 
 she possibly could ; so that when she died he was 
 rather glad than otherv/ise, and declared that nothing 
 on earth should induce him to venture again among 
 the rocks and shoals of a matrimonial career. 
 
 '•'No, no," he said, " IVe had quite enough of it; 
 I got aground once, and I'll take pretty good care not 
 [.o sail on that tack any more." 
 
 He had been a widower about three years, and, as 
 le had no children, the next heir to the title was his 
 lephew, Captain Homer, a cavalry officer, at present 
 mattached, consequently at full leisure to pursue a 
 ;areer that was anything but creditable to him. This 
 gentleman had sojourned upon the earth some nine- 
 md-twenty years, which time he had contrived to 
 spend about as unprofitably as it was possible to do, 
 [and he was still pursning, with unwearied energy, the 
 5ame thriftless course 
 
 The most remarkable trait in the character of 
 Captain Homer was his very exalted opinion of the 
 [graces and high qualities, both personal and intellec- 
 tual, of that selfsame individual, which, however erro- 
 leous it might be, was the basis of all his thoughts, 
 ^words, and actions. His uncle said he was an in- 
 tolerable puppy; nevertheless, having no better object 
 to bestow his affections upon, he felt as much love for 
 his nephew as it was in his nature to feel for any- 
 Ipody, and that was no very great amount. 
 
44 TUB BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 Captain Romer had inherited from his father an 
 estate worth about five hundred a year, and, at the 
 time it came into his possession, which was shortly 
 after he entered tlie army, he looked upon it as a very 
 fine thing, and felt himself a man of fortune as com- 
 pared with most of his brother officers ; but when, by 
 the imlooked-for circumstances before mentioned, his 
 uncle, the admiral, became Lord Merrington, and 
 himself presumptive heir to that title, with an estate 
 which, when certain encumbrances were paid off, 
 would be worth fifteen thousand per annum, he began 
 to hold his comparatively small patrimony in utter 
 contempt, and was still more careless of it after the 
 death of his aunt, an event that relieved him from all 
 fear of being superseded by a son, which was at least 
 possible while she was in existence. 
 
 The brilliant prospect being now unclouded before 
 him, he began to live at a rate that his income did 
 not go above half way to support, and, at the end of 
 one year, found himself in debt to an extent that 
 might be called considerable, as his affairs then stood. 
 It was in vain, as he well knew, to look to his uncle 
 to make up the deficiency, for the old lord was highly 
 intolerant of anything like extravagance, and in his 
 eyes it would have been little short of actual crimi- 
 nality for a young man with a clear annual income of 
 five hundred pounds, besides his pay, to involve him- 
 self in pecuniary difficulties. Captain Romer, in fact, 
 calculated upon a speedy succession to his lordship's 
 title and estate ; for although Lord Merrington was 
 not much over sixty, he was thought to have disease 
 of the heart, a complaint not the less likely to prove 
 fatal from the habits of free living in which he con- 
 stantly indulged. 
 
 Still he did not die ; neither did the captain grow 
 more prudent, and in consequence of these two facts 
 the latter was reduced to the necessity of raising 
 money from time to tune by mortgages on his estate, 
 for which he had of course to pay a large interest, and 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 45 
 
 his income being thereby considerably diminished, 
 his embarrassments were proportionately increased. 
 All this, however, he studiously concealed from the 
 knowledge of his uncle, whose prejudices he thought 
 it would not be good policy to shock ; but as, at the 
 end of three years, the old lord seemed as far from 
 the other world as ever, Captain Homer began se- 
 riously to reflect on the propriety of making a tender 
 of his hand to some young lady who had the means 
 of paying a good price for so valuable an article. 
 
 The favoured individual he had cast his eyes upon 
 as one in some degree worthy of such distinction, 
 was Florence Gilmour, whom he had met with occa- 
 sionally, and remarked as being a tolerably fine girl. 
 He was pretty sure the major would give her a 
 splendid fortune, knowing him to be an ostentatious 
 _as well as a rich man, and the more especially as 
 lere was a coronet in the distance ; therefore he de- 
 cided upon making a proposal. 
 
 It was in consequence of this determination that 
 le made his appearance at Brianscourt, the seat of 
 jord Merrington, on the very day before the Gilmours 
 ^ere expected there, greatly to the surprise of his 
 ncle, whom he did not often favour with his com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Why, Fred I " he exclaimed, pushing aside a book 
 \i old charts, on which he was tracing out some of 
 lis early voyages, " what has brought you down into 
 pie country at this time of the year ? I thought you 
 iould not condescend to breathe out of London in 
 he spring." 
 " I had nothing particular to do in town, sir, so I 
 lought I vvould just run down here for a few days, 
 md pay my respects to you." 
 
 "Well, that's right; I wish you would come a 
 little oftener, and stay a little longer when you do 
 come, that's all." 
 
 "Who have you got here, my lord — anybody ?" 
 " No, nobody at present. So, so, now I begin to 
 
46 THE BEOTHBRS BASSET. 
 
 see how the land lies, — looking after the heiress, eh, 
 Fred ? " 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! you expect the Indian nahoh, don't 
 you?" Eomer asked, with an air of indifference, as if 
 he had just recollected the circumstance ; " I think 
 you wrote to me that he was coming." 
 
 " Why, you know I did, sir ; and you know very 
 well that is what has brought you here. But I'll tell 
 you what, Fred, she'll have nothing to say to you, 
 depend upon it." 
 
 " Do you think so, my lord ?" said Eomer, stroking 
 his handsome moustaches, and running his taper 
 fingers through a mass of black curling hair. 
 
 "Yes, I do, sir," replied his lordship; "though I 
 dare say you are conceited enough to think other- 
 wise. Well, I've nothing to say against your making 
 the trial, for I suppose you'll maiTy some day or 
 other — more fool you. So now lot's have done with 
 that wishy-washy subject; you shall have something 
 to eat, and then we'll go out and look about us." 
 
 "Deuced slow work, that," thought Eomer; "I 
 wish he would ask somebody to dine." 
 • But his lordship did not choose to ask anybody to 
 dine ; consequently his nephew was compelled to sit 
 over the wine for three hours after dinner, and listen 
 to a number of old stories that he had heard many 
 times before, without even the solacing companion- 
 ship of his cigar ; for, as the old gentleman did not 
 smoke himself, he never permitted younger ones to do 
 , so in his presence, being, from habit as well as incli- 
 nation, a strict disciplinarian, and Eomer, with all his 
 confidence, was rather afraid of him. 
 
 Slow as the day was, however,' it came to an end at 
 last, and the following one brought the expected 
 visitors. Lord Merrington had known Major Gilmour 
 as a young man, before he went to India, and they 
 had met again in Italy after the major's return to 
 Europe, and spent a month together at Naples ; but 
 his lordship had never seen Florence before, and 
 
 I 
 
THE BBOTHEBS BASSET.' • 47 
 
 althougli he had no great hking for women in general, 
 he seemed to thmk she was a better specimen of the 
 sex than was usually to be met Avith, and even carried 
 his admiration so far as to tell his nephew " he was 
 not so great a fool as he took him to be." 
 
 Brianscourt was really a beautiful place ; the park 
 not veiy extensive, but well wooded, and the orna- 
 mental grounds were laid out with much taste, and 
 kept in extreme good order. The house was one of 
 those large old-fashioned mansions with tapestried 
 walls, polished oaken floors, painted ceilings, and 
 antique furniture, that are often made a show of to 
 parties bent on pleasure excursions, — an arrangement 
 highly beneficial to the servants of the said establish- 
 ment, who derive a considerable revenue therefrom. 
 
 In the great hall were displayed several banners, 
 torn and faded, the glorious memorials of battles and 
 victories in which the present lord had borne a part ; 
 and leading out of this were the dining-room, break- 
 fast-room, and library, three very comfortable apart- 
 ments, fitted up in a more modern style than the rest 
 of the habitation, and sacred from the intrusion of 
 stranger-visitors. The grand staircase, of ample 
 : width, ascended to a gallery decorated with paintings, 
 ^ and opening on one side into a handsome suite of 
 rooms, that were only used when company was stay- 
 ing in the house, and, on tlie other, into several 
 sleeping apartments. There was a spacious ball-room 
 at one end, where, it was told, the sovereigns of the 
 house of Tudor had led many a courtly dame, but it 
 was now seldom entered except by sight-seers, and at 
 the other end was a small chapel, which had probably 
 been but little used since the Reformation. 
 
 All these were objects of interest to Florence 
 Gilmour, who had never before seen an English man- 
 sion of the olden time ; but she was both surprised 
 and annoyed at finding that Captain Eomer was the 
 only visitor staying in the house, as she thought 
 Lord Merrington might have had the courtesy to 
 
48 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 invite some lady to receive her, especially as he 
 had a sister and other relatives living in the county ; 
 and this omission caused her the greater disquietude, 
 as she soon found that the captain was inclined to 
 pay her more attention than she desired, and that her 
 father treated him with marked consideration. 
 
 •' Dear me, sir," she said, as soon as she had an 
 opportunity of speaking to the major alone, *' tliis is 
 exceedingly awkward and disagreeable for me; I 
 had no idea but that there would have been some 
 ladies here; I hope you do not intend to stay 
 long?" 
 
 " I intend to stay three days," the major replied, in 
 his usual stiff, precise manner ; " and I should think, 
 Miss Gilmour, the fact of being under my protection 
 might relieve you from any feeling of awkwardness or 
 impropriety ; and, surely, in such a place as this, you 
 may find means to pass your time agreeably, even 
 without ladies." 
 
 " I certainly could if I were left to myself, but that 
 young man is insufferable." 
 
 " Ai'e you speaking of Captain Eomer, Florence?" 
 her father asked, witli something of displeasure in his 
 tone and look. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I am ; you surely see nothing to admire 
 in him, do you?" 
 
 " I really see nothing to disapprove; you are aware, 
 I suppose, that he is Lord Merrington's heir?" 
 
 This question served to confirm Florence in a sus- 
 picion she had previously entertained as to her father's 
 motives in bringing her to Brianscourt, and it caused 
 her some anxiety, for she was too well acquainted with 
 his arbitraiy temper not to dread the effects of any 
 opposition to his will ; nevertheless, she answered with 
 much spirit to his last remark, which he had put into 
 the form of a query, — 
 
 " I certainly know that he is Lord Merrington's 
 heir ; but as that is a circumstance in which I am not 
 at all interested, it does not make his self-sufficiency 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 49 
 
 more endurable, or his frivolity more entertain- 
 
 nig." 
 
 k 
 
 " I should hardly think you would have found less 
 of either, even had you been provided with com- 
 panions of your own sex," replied the major, with a 
 contemptuous smile ; " and I expect. Miss Gilmour, 
 that while you are Lord Merrington's guest, you will 
 conduct yourself with politeness, at least, towards 
 so important a member of his family as Captain 
 liomer." 
 
 This was said in a tone of authority, and Florence 
 ade no reply, but it left the unpleasant impression 
 n her mind that a proposal of marriage from Captain 
 Eomer was not an unlikely event, and that it would 
 e sanctioned and urged by her father. 
 It was now the early part of April, and the days 
 ere remarkably fine and warm for the time of year, 
 ut the evenings were chilly, and as Lord Merrington 
 /as a man who liked everything to look cheerful and 
 omfortable about him, there was a good fire blazing 
 n every room his visitors were likely to enter. In 
 the drawing-rooms Florence found a harp, a piano, 
 ,nd some music books that had belonged to the late 
 ady Merrington, and in the course of the evening 
 he delighted the old lord by playing and singing 
 ome of his favourite airs and ballads. 
 
50 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 The next day being Sunday, the whole party went to 
 a pretty Uttle church that stood in the centre of a 
 stragghng village called Bleachley, or something like 
 it, about a mile and a half from Brianscourt, where 
 the congregation, with the exception of Lord Mer- 
 rington and his guests, was composed entirely of the 
 villagers, many of whom were waiting about the 
 churchyard to witness the arrival of the great folks, 
 who alighted from the carriage and walked wp the 
 narrow gravel path amidst a running fire of rustic 
 bows and bob courtesys that went in regular succession 
 along the two lines of gazers that flanked the way on 
 both sides, between the little white gate and the 
 church-door. ; '" 
 
 The interior of the humble edifice was plain and 
 simple in the extreme, with the exception of the state 
 pew, which was furnished with cushions and curtains, 
 but it could boast of one ornament not frequently 
 met with in a village church, and that was a very 
 good organ, which had been jDresented by the late 
 Lord of Brianscourt, whose ears could never accom- 
 modate themselves pleasantly to a concert '^of flutes, 
 fifes, and violins, that did not very strictly harmonise 
 with each other. 
 
THE BROTITEES BASSET. 51 
 
 The Rector of Bleachley was an elderly man, who 
 had watched over the spiritual welfare of rather a 
 troublesome flock for more than thirty years, per- 
 forming the whole duty himself, as the living was too 
 poor a one to afford a curate; therefore, on the 
 morning in question, it was with no little sui-prise 
 that the people saw a stranger take his place at the 
 reading desk, and a universal whispering was heard, 
 whilst looks of curiosity were directed towards the 
 unknown, who opened the book and commenced the 
 preliminary sentences in a voice so full, deep, and 
 melodious, that it produced the instantaneous effect 
 of silencing every other sound, and fixing the attention 
 of the hearers. 
 
 He was a young man, apparently not more than 
 three or four and twenty, tall and dark, but his face 
 was more interesting than handsome, being xerj pale 
 and somewhat sallow ; still his features had a noble 
 cast, his eyes were full of expression, and his fine 
 forehead betokened an intellect of no common order. 
 
 uring the service his whole soul aj^peared to be en- 
 gaged in the performance of his duty, and everybody 
 present seemed to be inspired with a more than 
 ordinary sense of devotion, which even extended itself 
 o Lord Merrington, who was not famous for his at- 
 ention in general to the prescribed forms of divine 
 kvorship. 
 
 When the prayers were ended, he beckoned to the 
 ew-opener, and asked her who was going to give the 
 [€ermon. 
 
 The same gentleman that read prayers, please 
 your lordship," replied the woman, with a low cour- 
 tesy. 
 
 "What is the reason of that? W'here is Mr. 
 Mackenzie?" 
 
 " He was taken ill this morning, my lord, and 
 obliged to send off for somebody to do duty for 
 ^ hhn." 
 
 ^1 
 
5^2 THE BROTHERS B.VSSEf.- 
 
 question, but at that moment ^the young clergyman 
 ascended the pulpit, and every eye was again turned 
 upon him. 
 
 The sermon was a plain discourse, well adapted 
 to the comprehension of an assemblage of simple 
 rustics, and the persuasive eloquence of the preacher, 
 who set forth in a most impressive manner the re- 
 ligious and moral duties of the humble class to whom 
 his exhortations were chieflv addressed, excited the 
 most profound attention. Before he had concluded, 
 however, an incident occurred that created some 
 confusion among the people, and caused a momentary 
 interruption, for a poor sickly-looking woman, sitting 
 in one of the open seats, suddenly fainted, and was 
 carried out of the church. The preacher stopped, 
 and his eyes followed the poor woman with a look of 
 so much interest and compassion, that Florence, who 
 observed it, said to herself, — 
 
 '•' That_ look came from a benevolent heart, I am 
 sure." 
 
 As soon as the bustle occasioned by this accident 
 had subsided, the youthful divine resumed his dis- 
 course, and went on to the end without further 
 hinderance. 
 
 Lord Merrington, in going out of church, asked 
 the pew-opener who the preacher was, and where he 
 came from ; but she could give him no information 
 on either of these points, as he was quite a stranger, 
 she said, in the village ; but he was most likely Dr. 
 Hay's curate, for Dr. Hay was Mr. Mackenzie's par- 
 ticular friend. 
 
 " This won't do, though, Mrs. Wilson," said his 
 lordship ; " we musn't have our parson disabled, or 
 we shall all be going the wrong wav, hey ! What is 
 it ails him?" 
 
 "I don't rightly know, my lord, but the doctor 
 said he must keep to his bed for a day or two and 
 eat nothing." 
 ^ *• Well, I dare say that may be veiy good advice. 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. ^^^ 58 
 
 though I can't say I should hke to take it myself ; I 
 shall send over to-morrow to know how he is." 
 
 Lord Merrington passed on, and then Florence 
 stopped to ask some questions respecting the poor 
 woman who had fainted. 
 
 "Her name is Allen, my lady; and she lives in the 
 little cottage with a garden in front, at the corner of 
 the road leading to the wooden bridge." 
 " Is she in had health ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, my lady ; she is very weaklv, poor 
 Ithing." 
 
 " What is her employment ?" 
 
 " She does a little needlework, my lady, for the 
 [gentry round about ; but she is not able to do much, 
 
 [and " 
 
 But Florence had no time to ask or to hear more, 
 for her father had turned back to hasten her, as Lord 
 lerrington was already in the carriage ; however, she 
 just said hurriedly, " I will try to come and see her 
 to-morrow morning." And taking the major's arm she 
 quitted the church. 
 
 The day being remarkably fine. Lord Merrington 
 
 reposed that they should take a drive to a celebrated 
 
 spot about three miles distant, from which there was 
 
 fine view of the surrounding country ; and in 
 
 returning through the village, they saw the young 
 
 [clergyman come out of a cottage which, from its 
 
 [situation, Florence knew to be that which the pew- 
 
 )pener had described to her as Mrs. Allen's abode. 
 
 [As the carriage passed he touched his hat and bowed 
 
 Kvith a pleasant smile of recognition, which was re- 
 
 jturned by the whole party, with the addition of a 
 
 [deep blush on the part of the lady, who could not 
 
 [but see that the smile and the bow, though meant 
 
 to be general, were directed particularly towards 
 
 her. 
 
 " He is a good-looking fellow," observed Lord Mer- 
 rington, *' and did not preach amiss, either, for such 
 a youngster." 
 
 i 
 
54 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 "No, not at all," responded the major; "a vei^y 
 creditable performance indeed for so yomig a man ; 
 his manner is exceedingly good." 
 
 " Rather priggish," observed Romer. 
 
 ",^Whatdo you mean by priggish, Captain Romer ?" 
 Florence asked, Avith rather an arch look. 
 
 " I mean pretty tolerably conceited," he replied, 
 stroking his chin^with his white, ungloved hand. 
 
 " And pray may I ask," she said, " by what signs 
 and tokens you have arrived at that conclusion?" 
 
 " He seems fortunate enough to have gained your 
 admiration, Miss Gilmour, at any rate." 
 
 Lord Merrington burst into a violent fit of laughter. 
 
 " So, so," he said, " Fred's jealous of the parson, 
 that's it — ha ! ha ! ha ! But, I say, Fred, what right 
 have you to find fault with a fellow for his puppyism, 
 hey?" 
 
 "As much right as any one else I suppose, my 
 lord." 
 
 " Well, but that's very much like a lobster calling a 
 soldier 'red coat,' isn't it?" 
 
 And his lordship indulged in another hearty laugh 
 at the expense of his nephew, who was very much 
 annoyed at the joke, especially as Miss Gilmour was 
 evidently amused by it. The major, however, did not 
 look very well pleased, for it offended his dignity that 
 the curate of a country village should be mentioned, 
 even in jest, as a person whose name could by any 
 possibility be coupled with that of his daughter in the 
 manner alluded to. 
 
 " The young man is well enough in the pulpit," he 
 said, stiffly, " and is, I have no doubt, very fit for his 
 vocation, but I should hope Miss Gilmour knows 
 better what is due both to herself and to me, than to 
 bestow any more admiration on so obscure a person 
 than his sermon merits." 
 
 "But, by your own confession, sir," replied Flo- 
 rence, " his sermon merits a great deal of admiration ; 
 and we can scarcely admire the words and works of 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 55 
 
 i 
 
 any man, without bestowing some share of our ap- 
 probation upon himself." 
 
 Wiiose place is that, my lord?" said the major, 
 pointing to a fine mansion at some distance ; and 
 not a word more was said about the curate during the 
 ride. 
 
 To Florence's great relief there were visitors that 
 day at Brianscourt, two of whom were ladies, and 
 she was thus enabled to escape from the unwelcome 
 assiduities of the captain, who did not recover his 
 good humour all the day. 
 
 I 
 
56 THE BKOTIIERS BASSET.' 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Flo- 
 rence requested Lord Merrington to let her have the 
 pony carriage that she might ride over to the village, 
 as she had promised, to see the poor woman whose 
 illness in the chm'ch had excited her sympathy. 
 
 " With all Qiy heart. Miss Gilmom* ; you may take 
 which carriage you please, and while you pay your 
 visit, John can just drive round to the rectory and 
 ask how Mr. Mackenzie is, with my compliments." 
 
 Captain Homer appeared to be, for some reason 
 which he did not vouchsafe to make known, ex- 
 tremely annoyed at this proceeding, connecting it 
 possibly in his mind with other occurrences of the 
 preceding day that had not pleased him. He bit his 
 lip, and walked to a window with an air expressive of 
 anything but satisfaction, and having looked out for 
 a minute or two in silence, turned to Florence, and 
 said abruptly, — 
 
 " Will you permit me to go with you, Miss Gil- 
 mour ? " 
 
 " I thank you, Captain Romer, but I shall much 
 prefer going alone on such an errand as this." 
 J Major Gilmour was not present, and tlie captain, 
 
BROTHERS Ih 
 
 57 
 
 ortified at this refusal, turned discontentedly to the 
 indow again, whilst Florence left the room to pre- 
 pare for her expedition. 
 
 "I say, Fred," said Lord Merrington, looking up 
 Torn his newspaper, " the wind don't sit very fair in 
 ihat quarter I think. Didn't I tell you how it would 
 e— hey?" 
 ** I hope you are mistaken, my lord ; it was fair 
 inough yesterday, I believe, and I see no reason why 
 it should be otherwise to-day." 
 
 " Reason!" said his lordship. "Do you suppose 
 
 "a woman ever stands about a reason for what she 
 
 oes ? It's no go, my boy — no go, I tell you ! ha ! 
 
 .a ! ha ! " — and the old gentleman seemed to enjoy the 
 
 otion of his nephew's disappointment vastly, al- 
 
 ough it would have been difficult to trace the source 
 
 i his satisfaction, as he really approved of the 
 
 connection, and was decidedly of opinion that, if 
 
 Ilomer did marry, he could not make a better 
 hoice. 
 Florence alighted at the entrance of the village, 
 nd walked on towards the wooden bridge, where 
 firs. Allen's little isolated cottage stood. It was a 
 'ery poor place, but it had not that neglected look 
 'hich betokens extreme want ; for the garden was in 
 leat order, the windows were shaded by clean white 
 uslin blinds, and a vine was carefullv trained over 
 e green-latticed porch, which made a very pretty 
 intrance, and gave a better appearance to this cot- 
 ,ge than was observable in many others belonging 
 less needy people. In answer to Florence's gentle 
 ip at the door, a feeble voice said " Come in," and 
 in raising the latch, she found that the door opened 
 to a small room, where the first object that pre- 
 sented itself to her sight was the young curate, with 
 an open bible in his hand, sitting by the bed-side of 
 the suffering woman. 
 
 His fine dark eyes flashed with delighted surprise 
 as he rose and bowed in silence to the fair visitant, 
 
68 THE BROTHERS BASSET, 
 
 who returned the salutation with a slight degree of 
 embaiTassment. 
 
 *' I am come to see how you are to-day, Mrs. 
 Allen," she said, going to the side of the bed ; " I 
 was in church yesterday when you were taken so ill." 
 
 " You are very good, ma'am ; Mrs. Wilson sent me 
 word a lady was coming to see me, but I did not 
 know who it was. I am a little better to-day." 
 
 " I am afraid I have interrupted you, sir," said 
 Florence, turning to the clergyman, who was still 
 standing; " you were reading, I think — pray go on, 
 for I am not in the least huriw, and can talk to Mrs. 
 Allen when you have finished." 
 
 " I had finished, madam, and was taking my leave 
 for the present. I wish I could have staid with you 
 a little longer, Mrs. Allen, but it is impossible this 
 morning ; however, I am glad to see my place so well 
 supplied ; " and he looked at Florence with a smile so 
 bright, so approving, that it dwelt in her remem- 
 brance long afterwards. 
 
 " I shall be, I fear, but a very inefficient substi- 
 tute," she replied, " but not an unwilling one, I hopo 
 you will believe." 
 
 "I do, indeed, most firmly believe it;" and the 
 warmth with which he spoke brought a deep blush 
 to her cheek which she endeavoured to conceal by 
 bending her head over the couch, and speaking to 
 the invalid. 
 
 The curate lingered a few moments, as if he would 
 have said something more, but his invention did not 
 seem to supply him with anything more to say, there- 
 fore he was driven to the necessity of making his 
 exit without another word beyond the customary 
 " Good morning." 
 
 Florence now began to inquire into the nature of 
 the poor woman's complaint, which appeai^ed to be 
 an excess of that debility frequently occasioned by a 
 sedentary life and poor living. She said she had 
 been in this state for a long time, and that the parisl 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 59 
 
 octor came to see her once a-week, for she had been 
 bilged to apply for some aid from the parish ; but 
 
 e medicine she had taken, instead of doing her 
 good, had only made her feel weaker. 
 
 " Is there any other doctor you would like 
 etter?" 
 
 " I have sometimes thought-, miss, that if I could 
 ave a little advice from Dr. Lawford, it might per- 
 aps do me good, for he is very clever, they say, and 
 nice, kind gentleman, too." 
 
 " Where does he live?'' 
 
 *' About a quarter of a mile on the other side of 
 he bridge ; he attends all the gentry hereabouts, and 
 verybody speaks well of him." 
 
 " Then, if you really think he might do you good, 
 
 will call and ask him to come and see you." 
 
 A flush of joy and gratitude passed over the thin 
 wan face of the invalid, as she uttered her thanks. 
 
 i- "But, do you think, ma'am," she added timidly, 
 *' that it would offend Mr. Bright ? " 
 - " Who is Mr. Bright — the gentleman that was here 
 just now ? " 
 " Oh, no, miss, that was the minister. Mr. Bright 
 is the parish doctor, and he is easily affronted ; but 
 e is always in such a hurry, for he says he has so 
 many of us to see — and he never seems pleased if 
 iwe don't say we are better." 
 
 This account of the village ^sculapius did not 
 give Florence a very high idea of his humanity or 
 kill, consequently she determined to engage the 
 services of Dr. Lawford, if possible, as she really 
 felt interested about the poor woman; and if that 
 interest was strengthened by the circumstance of its 
 
 B being shared by one who was as yet a stranger to 
 her, she certainly was unconscious that such was the 
 case, nor would she have been more sparing of her 
 charity if it had not been so. 
 
 " What is the name of the gentleman who came 
 to see you this morning ? " she asked ; and she blushed 
 
6d THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 as she did so, being perfectly aware that the question 
 had nothing whatever to do Avith the business in 
 hand, 
 
 Mrs. Allen did not know his name, nor anything 
 about him, except that he was the curate of a distant 
 village ; but she spoke in the most grateful terms of 
 his kindness ; said that he had brought her some 
 wine, and that he w^as going to send meat for broth, 
 and had promised to see her again the next day. 
 
 " But, above all," she added, " he read to me and 
 talked so nicely that I felt quite comforted, and I 
 hope he'll live to be a bishop, that I do." 
 
 " And if he should," said Florence, smihng, " it is 
 to be hoped you will live to see it, Mrs. Allen." 
 
 The poor w^oman returned the smile ; but her eyes 
 filled with tears, and a look of melancholy stole over 
 her pallid features that told how little hope she felt 
 of lengthened days or returning health. 
 
 After remaining with her above an hour, and giving 
 her all the comfort that gentle words can afford, 
 Florence rose to depart. Mrs. Allen looked wistfully 
 at her, and asked timidly if she would come again, 
 to which she replied, — 
 
 " I am afraid it will not be in my power to do 
 so, as, I believe, we shall leave Brianscourt to-mor- 
 
 row." 
 
 " But you will be coming to my lord's again, may- 
 be?" said the invalid. 
 
 " If I do, I shall certainly call to see you ; butTi 
 should be glad to do something more for you now if 
 I could ; so, if there is anything you wish, pray tell 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Allen, with a delicacy not often met with 
 amongst people of her condition, declared she w^anted 
 nothing, and repeated her thanks for the kindness 
 already shown her ; however, her charitable benefac- 
 tress insisted on leaving her the means of procuring 
 a few extra comforts, and, as she left the cottage, the 
 poor woman, clasping her hands and bursting into 
 
^^^^^^H THE BHOTHEHS BASSET. 01 
 
 Icars, exclaimed in grateful accents, — " What a won- 
 Idrous Providence to raise up two such friends in one 
 bay ! " 
 
 I Florence returned to the spot where she had de- 
 Isired the carriage should be in waiting, and directed 
 iihe coachman to drive aci'oss the wooden bridge and 
 inquire for the residence of Dr. Lawford, who for- 
 tunately happened to be at home. He was a pleasant 
 looking man, whose countenance indicated much 
 ■good feeling, and he listened with evident inte- 
 rest as Miss Gilmour explained the object of her 
 Irisit. 
 
 t " But this poor thing," he said, " is a patient of 
 feright's I think; and I don't see how I can very 
 Isvell interfere." 
 
 I; " Is it necessary, sir, that Mr. Bright should know 
 iinything about it?" 
 
 I " Not absolutely necessary, certainly ; bnt don't 
 R^ou know, my dear young lady, there are always 
 fclenty of busy tongues ready to whisper anything 
 ■that is likely to cause a little mischief?" 
 I " But do you think, sir, it is quite right that the 
 life of this poor woman should be sacrificed to such 
 fconsiderations?" 
 
 I " No ; I do not think it is right, so I shall go and 
 Bee her ; and if Bright hears of it I must get over it 
 its well as I can, by saying I acted at the special 
 tequest of a lady." 
 
 I Florence thanked him, and begging he would send 
 lier what medicines she might require, put into his 
 mand a bank note, at which he looked witli some 
 ■surprise , 
 
 I " My good lady, this is far more than is needful, 
 
 MOT I shall charge nothing for my visits, and it is to 
 
 |be hoped she will not want five pounds' worth of 
 
 medicine ; — why, it would be enough to depopulate 
 
 the village," he added, laughing. 
 
 Florence laughed too, saying she should be sorry 
 to be the cause of such a catastrophe ; but requested 
 
6^ THE BHOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 that the doctor would employ the money in any way 
 he thought best for the patient's benefit, which he 
 readily promised to do, and looked so perfectly 
 chai'med with his fair visitant, that if he had not 
 casually made mention of Mrs. Lawford, she might 
 have been justified in supposing it was a case of love 
 at first sight; but the worthy doctor's allegiance to 
 his better half was unshaken even in thought, for his 
 admiration extended no further than strict propriety 
 Avarranted, and was only such as any respectable 
 gentleman might naturally feel at the sight of a 
 young and lovely woman engaged in a work of 
 charity. 
 
 When Miss Gilmour returned to Brianscourt, it is 
 somewhat remarkable that, in speaking of her visit to 
 the cottage, she never once mentioned her meeting 
 with the young clergyman there ; perhaps the circum- 
 stance had escaped her memory. 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The appeal on behalf of Mr. Basset, to the dh-ectors 
 Wmi the insurance company, had been unsuccessful. 
 |Kt was presented by Mr. Ingleby, who stated, in a 
 forcible manner, the peculiar circumstances of the 
 ■Base ; at the same time giving his opinion that, as the 
 ^loney was actually sent by the insurer within the 
 ■rfiven time, as could be proved by the cheque for the 
 Ifcnount, dated on the day preceding the fire, it was, 
 Pfti point of fact, paid, and ought in honour to be con- 
 sidered so, although the messenger had failed to 
 execute his commission. The insurer, he main- 
 ■fciined, had performed his part of the contract, and it 
 Iwas illiberal to take advantage of another person's 
 Tiegiect, to shrink from the performance of theirs. 
 On the other hand it was argued that, although no 
 one doubted the word of so respectable a man as Mr. 
 Basset, yet it would be a dangerous precedent to act 
 upon it, as cheques might be drawn by individuals, 
 whose scruples of conscience w^ould never prevent 
 them from affixing any date to any document that 
 might best suit their convenience ; and if once such 
 a claim was admitted, the interests of the company 
 would be materially injured. 
 
64 THE BROTHEPiS BASSET. 
 
 The question was warmly debated, as two or three 
 of the more hberal members took the same view of 
 the matter as Mr. Ingleby ; but, after a long dis- 
 cussion, the petition was rejected, and soon after- 
 wards the name of Basset appeared in the Gazette. 
 It was generally thought a hard case, and talked 
 of for a few days, but in a short time it was forgotten, 
 except by such as were immediately interested, and 
 one or two of those " gems of the human species," 
 whose hearts are too intrinsically warm to turn cold 
 at the sight of a friend in adversity. Acquaintances 
 dropped off by degrees ; the house at Kensington 
 was given up, its lease and furniture were sold 
 by auction ; and the unfortunate family removed to a 
 small house at Upper Clapton, where one female 
 servant, in addition to themselves, constituted the 
 whole of the domestic establishment. Mrs. Basset 
 did not long survive the blow. Always weak both in 
 mind and body, the little strength that had remained 
 to her gave way under the shock of her fallen for- 
 tunes, and in one week after the removal she had 
 ceased to be. Charles Basset followed the remains 
 of his mother to the grave, with all the grief and 
 remorse of one who accused himself of havinsf at 
 least hastened, if not caused, her death, and from 
 that time he was an altered being. He seldom 
 spoke, yet his silence seemed the effect of deep 
 thought, rather than of settled melancholy; he was 
 frequently out during the greater part of the day, 
 and when at home, the Bible was constantly in his 
 hand, and he seemed to be lost in profound medi- 
 tation. Not a single word of unkindness or reproach 
 had fallen from the lips of his father, who, in talking 
 of his affairs, always carefully avoided any allusion to 
 the negligence that had brought him into his present 
 unfortunate position ; and this forbearance was duly 
 appreciated by the unhappy young man, although it 
 failed to restore him to himself. 
 
 " Dear Charles," said Claudia, one day when they 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 65 
 
 were alone together, *' I wish you would endeavour to 
 be a little more cheerful; we should all be much 
 happier if we could but see you so ; and indeed you 
 should make the effort for your father's sake." 
 
 He shook his head mournfully, and casting a 
 troubled glance around the meanly-furnished apart- 
 ment, said, with bitterness, — 
 
 " Is this a place for my father ?" 
 
 Claudia understood the self-reproach contained 
 in those words, and repHed, with gentleness, — 
 K "He feels it less than you do, Charles, and is 
 Decoming more reconciled to the change every day. 
 
 «e are all getting accustomed to it ; and I begin to 
 ink the discomforts are, after all, more imaginary 
 an real." 
 
 Charles was silent for a few moments, and a deeper 
 ade of thought came over his face. At length he 
 id, slowly and seriously, — 
 
 " Claudia, you have all treated me with a degree of 
 rbearance and consideration I have but little 
 erited, and I feel it deeply — how deeply, you, my 
 
 sister, can never know. But I have a grievous sin 
 
 to expiate, and it must be expiated by toil and 
 
 suffering," 
 
 " Oh, no, Charles, no ! " she cried, interrupting 
 
 him. "You judge yourself too harshly; believe me, 
 y dearest brother, your fault is already sufhciently 
 
 atoned for, by the sorrow and repentance you have 
 
 H " Atoned for, did you say ? How can I ever atone 
 Iwr bringing my father to ruin, and my mother to the 
 P^-ave ? — for blighting my brother's fair prospects, 
 and destroying my sister's peace? For I fear, my 
 kind and generous Claudia, you have yet to discover 
 the extent of the injury I have done you." 
 
 " If you mean what I suppose you do, Charles, 
 there is no occasion to distress yourself about that. 
 You are thinking of Mr. Ferndale, are you not?" 
 " I am. Do you think my fears are groundless?" 
 
 5 
 
66 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 " No, dear," sbe replied with a sigh; " on the con- 
 traiy, I believe they are well founded ; but that need 
 not make you uneasy; for it is, perhaps, quite as 
 well that something should have occurred to try the 
 sincerity of his affection. If he fail under that trial, 
 he is not a man to be loved or trusted ; and I hope I 
 shall have fortitude enough not only to give him up 
 without regret, but to rejoice that my happiness was 
 not entrusted to such doubtful keeping." 
 
 •' Are you certain of your own strength, dearest 
 Claudia? for in this it will assuredly be tried." 
 
 " I feel that it will, and am prepared for whatever 
 may happen ; and indeed, Charles, if he should leave 
 me for this, I shall most truly rejoice that I was 
 still free." 
 
 " Thank God ! Then one heavy burthen, at least, 
 is removed from my mind." 
 
 " Dismiss all the rest, love, and be assured that 
 our greatest sorrow now is to see you so unhappy. 
 Come, promise me that you will try to be yourself 
 again." And she put her arm round his neck, and 
 pressed her lips to his cheek. 
 
 He returned the embrace affectionately, but without 
 a word ; and, sighing heavily, he rose and left the 
 room. 
 
 Frank Ferndale had now been 'absent nearlv a 
 month, yet Claudia had received only two letters 
 from him, and those were not such as to dispel the 
 doubts she entertained as to the disinterestedness of 
 his affection, or the amiabiUty of his disposition. In 
 fact, they contained little else than an account of his 
 own doings in the French capital, which might have 
 been an amusing theme enough at a happier time, 
 but it ill accorded with the present circumstances, and 
 afforded a still further proof of that selfishness which 
 had already caused her so much anxiety. Selfish- 
 ness, however, was no part of her own character, and 
 she had so many others to think for, that she 
 gave but little time to the contemplation of her ow: 
 
 1 
 
i 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. C7 
 
 disappointed affections ; and it ^Yas not long before a 
 
 new and unforeseen affliction banished for awhile the 
 
 remembrance of all other misfortunes, or made them 
 
 appear light in comparison with a sorrow so little 
 
 anticipated. Charles suddenly disappeared from his 
 
 home, without having given the slightest intimation 
 
 f his intentions. He left on the table in his bed- 
 
 oom a letter addressed to his father, who broke tlie 
 
 seal with a trembling hand, whilst a sickening dread 
 
 aine over his senses, as his eye glanced hastily over 
 
 le contents; and when relieved from his worst 
 
 ars, he fervently thanked God that the evil was not 
 
 o great as in the first moment of alarm he had 
 
 pprehended. Satisfied of this, he calmly, though 
 
 orrowfully, perused the long epistle, which had 
 
 vidently been traced by an unsteady hand, and was 
 
 here and there blotted with tears. 
 
 CHARLES basset's LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 " It is all in vain, my beloved father, that I try to 
 
 egain some share of the peace of mind I have lost, 
 
 r form any plan with a view to retrieve yoiu' ruined 
 
 'ortunes — ruined by me — that is a truth which all 
 
 our kindness, all your consideration, can never 
 
 anish for one moment from my mind. And why 
 
 hould I seek to forget it, even for a moment, since 
 
 it must guide and govern every 'action of my future 
 
 ife? Think me not ungrateful, dear father; think 
 
 'not that I have failed to appreciate your goodness, 
 
 your loving-kindness to me, all undeserving as I am ; 
 
 but every kind word you utter, every look of love you 
 
 bestow upon me, oppresses my heart more heavily 
 
 ith the sense of its own unworthiness. Yet, when I 
 
 m far away, the remembrance of your affection will 
 
 be my greatest solace in all sorrows, my support and 
 
 consolation under every trial it may be my lot to bear. 
 
 Do not be uneasy on my account. I have marked 
 
 out a course for myself — ane of toil and hardship] it 
 
 i 
 
68 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 may be, but I will not shrink from it, for I feel that 
 it is the best atonement I can make. 
 
 ** Forgive me for leaving you thus ; forgive me for 
 the concealment I have used ; but it is necessary, for 
 I know you would ti-)' to shake my resolution, to keep 
 me with you ; and I dare not trust myself, for my 
 strength might fail. I must go, my father, for I can- 
 not bear to witness the desolation I have made. I 
 have not courage to meet the eye of my brother, who 
 will now so soon return, for how could I answer to 
 him for the misconduct that has blighted all his fair 
 prospects, and, left nothing but poverty before him? 
 I have not taken this step without reflection; day 
 and night it has been the subject of my meditations ; 
 and view it in what light I may, I have always come 
 to the same conclusion, that it is the only way to merit 
 and obtain pardon from Heaven for the wrong I have 
 done. I know that you have forgiven me, my father ; 
 I know that my sisters do not harbour one ungentle 
 thought towards me ; and from Norman's generous, 
 noble spirit, I am conscious there is nothing to fear. 
 Yet I cannot stay ; I feel impelled by an irresistible 
 power to earn my forgiveness by self-sacrifiees and 
 good works ; and this feeling grows stronger every 
 clay : therefore, let us not doubt that it comes from the 
 highest source, and will lead to good. You blessed 
 me last night, my father, when I retired to rest. 
 I felt then as if that blessing would follow me in 
 exile, and prosper all my undertakings. Let this 
 comfort you, as it will comfort me ; and let us all hope 
 and trust that we shall meet again under happier cir- 
 cumstances than those which at present surround us. 
 
 " And now, adieu, my beloved father ; adieu, my 
 gentle sisters ; waste not a thought on me ; but 
 remember that you have another son — another 
 brother — who will need all your cares, and is more 
 worthy of your love than the unhapj^y and penitent — -j 
 Charles." 
 
THE I3R0TIIERS BASSET. 69 
 
 Bitter were the tears that rolled thick and fast down 
 the cheeks of the venerable parent as he read this 
 affecting epistle ; for of all the troubles that had yet 
 come upon him, this seemed the greatest, and caused 
 him the most real sorrow. Charles had always been 
 his favourite child, perhaps for no other reason than 
 because he was the first-born; for how often do we 
 find that the earliest object of parental affection con- 
 ^tiniies to be the dearest ! His sisters almost idolized 
 Rhim, for he had been bi'ought up with them at home. 
 Hand ever looked up to as their protector, as well as 
 companion ; whereas Norman had from an early age 
 
 I been away, either at school or college, and was, as 
 compared with his brother, almost a stranger 
 Claudia wept in silence over this new affliction ; but 
 Emily, with the natural impetuosity of her temper, 
 gave way to the most violent demonstrations of grief, 
 sobbing aloud, wringing her hands, and venting her 
 excited feelings by passionate exclamations. She 
 had borne the reverse of fortune without repining ; 
 had submitted to every privation with admirable 
 cheerfulness, and exerted her utmost ingenuity to give, 
 by many little contrivances, an appearance of comfort 
 to their present abode ; but this was a sorrow that 
 touched her heart, and she could not bear up against 
 "t. 
 
70 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 When the first emotions of grief had in some degree 
 subsided, Mr. Basset read the letter again, in the vain 
 hope of finding some expression that might afford 
 a clue to the plans and destination of the fugitive ; 
 but, although it seemed most j)robable that he had 
 either left, or was about to leave, the country, yet it 
 was impossible to guess where he was going, or with 
 what intent. The only chance of making the dis- 
 covery was through Mr. Ingleby, who, being a ship- 
 broker, had a large connection amongst ship-owners 
 and captains of vessels, therefore might be able to 
 learn whether Charles had taken his passage to any 
 one of the colonies, as it was not an unreasonable 
 supposition that he might be going, like many others, 
 to seek his fortune in New Zealand, or one of the 
 Australian settlements. Possessed with this idea, and 
 the hope of inducing him to return, Mr. Basset wrote 
 to his friend, who received the letter while he was 
 taking his breakfast on the following morning. Mr. 
 Ingleby lived in the easiest and most comfortable 
 style of bachelorship ; it -"vould be hardly fair to say 
 old-bachelorship, although upwards of fifty years had 
 run their course since the followng announcement 
 
m 
 
 THE BROTIIEES BASSET. 71 
 
 appeared in the daily papers of the great metropohs, — 
 " On the sixth instant, in Portman Square, the ,lady 
 f Peter Ingleby, Esq., of a son." And this was the 
 only time, as regarded Mrs. Peter Ingleby, that such 
 a notice ever did appear. The little individual, thus 
 .duly registered as a new member of society about half 
 century before the commencement of this history, 
 ivas now a very respectable and highly-esteemed gen- 
 leman, somewhat past the meridian of life it is true, 
 ut endowed with so many excellent and attractive 
 ualities, that why he should have remained single to 
 e age of fifty-four was a mystery only known to 
 imself. His house, in the vicinity of the Kegent's 
 ark, was fitted up with admirable taste, and his 
 ousekeeper, a quiet, matronly person of mature age, 
 anaged his domestic affairs with considerable ability, 
 o that he could have his bachelor parties in good 
 tyle, with no more trouble to himself than merely 
 aying, — " Mrs. Garnet, I shall have so many gentle- 
 en to dine with me to-morrow, and should like 
 uch and such dishes ; the rest I leave to you." 
 Now it was currently reported that Mr. Ingleby 's 
 inners Avere capital things of the kind ; and the 
 eadiness wdth which his invitations were generally 
 ccepted afforded good proofs of the truth of such 
 Hiiours, as well as of the fitness of Mrs. Garnet for 
 e post she occupied. Sometimes, perhaps, it might 
 iross the mind of Mr. Ingleby, that if there were a 
 dy at the head of the table, and a few more orna- 
 ents of the same kind around it, the appearance of 
 is domicile would be improved ; but, somehow or 
 ther, he neglected to act upon this excellent mental 
 uggestion, and Mrs. Garnet continued, from year to 
 ear, in undisturbed possession of the sovereignty of 
 the Ingleby establishment. Perhaps it was that the 
 lord and master of that little empire took into con- 
 sideration the present very comfortable state of his 
 affairs, and thought there was wisdom in the old 
 adage, which advises rash mortals to " let well alone ; " 
 
 k 
 
Y2 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 SO he went on contentedly leading: a bachelor's life: 
 and a tolerably easy life it seemed to be. 
 
 On the morning in question he was enjoying the 
 luxuries of dressing-gown and slippers, a good brealc- 
 fast, and '* The Times," when two letters were brought 
 to him, the one from Mr. Basset, and the other, 
 which bore the post-mark, " Basingstoke," from one of 
 his tenants, a farmer in that part of Hampshire, 
 where he had a good deal of landed property. The 
 purport of the former is already known ; these were 
 the contents of the latter: — 
 
 " To George Ingleby, Esq. 
 
 " Dear Sir — 
 
 "A melancholy circumstance has taken place at 
 the Bridge House, which I thought it right to make 
 you acquainted with immediately. Poor Burton died 
 yesterday in a fit of apoplexy, brought on, no doubt, 
 by intemperance, and it appears he has not left enough 
 behind him even to pay the expenses of interment. 
 I have, however, given orders for all that is necessary 
 in that respect, to be done on my responsibility ; but 
 I should be glad to know how he stood with you as to 
 arrears of rent, and whether you will choose to take 
 what there is in the house, or let it be sold to pay the 
 debts he has contracted in the neighbourhood. If I 
 can take any trouble off your hands, you may com- 
 mand my services, and T shall also be happy to make 
 an arrangement with you about taking the two fields, 
 if you can let the house and garden without them. ., 
 " I am, dear Sir — yours veiy truly, 
 
 " Freshfield Bay." 
 
 " God bless me ! this is a bad affair," said Mr. 
 Ingleby, as he refolded the letter — " a very bad affair 
 indeed ; however, it might have been worse — for, if 
 he has left no money, he has left no wife or children to 
 want it, that's one comfort* He was a foolish, im- 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 73 
 
 rovident fellow, and I ought to have got rid of hhn 
 long ago. — Arrears of rent — let me see ; I think I 
 ave received none, or next to none, for the last five 
 uarters ; but it does not much signify. The traps 
 ad better go to pay the debts, which, I suppose, are 
 wing among the poor shopkeepers in the village — 
 nd Eay may as well have the fields — he is a worthy 
 How ; and as to the house, why, I must take my 
 
 hance about it — I wonder" and here he fell into 
 
 deep fit of musing which lasted about ten minutes, 
 ,nd ended with this remark — " I can but make tlie 
 ffer at any rate." 
 
 Having come to this conclusion, his ideas appa- 
 
 ently branched off into another channel, for they ran 
 
 hus — " So that young man Ferndale is come back, I 
 
 nd ; — she is far too nice a girl to be thrown away 
 
 pon such a heartless fellow as that ; and yet it is an 
 
 wkward matter to interfere in such cases. I shall 
 
 ee how the affair goes on. As to the son, poor fel- 
 
 ow, I will do what I can to find him out ; but I think 
 
 it would be a pity to stop him." 
 
 He now rose from the table, put the two letters, 
 ith some other papers, into a writing-desk, which he 
 arefully locked, and then proceeded to his dressing- 
 oom, where he made a more elaborate toilet than 
 sual, and when it was completed, looked remarkably 
 'ell for a man whose birtli had been announced 
 early fifty-four years back. His figure was good, 
 is step firm, his teeth white and even ; and his hair, 
 4iich had been very dark in his younger days, al- 
 though rather plentifully besprinkled with grey, was 
 still as luxuriant in its growth as that of a man of 
 wtwenty. Having arrayed his person with the utmost 
 mcare, and taken from a drawer a new pair of gloves 
 Kthat fitted with the nicest exactness, he sallied forth 
 'from his house, and got into an omnibus that set him 
 down at the Bank. He then looked out for one on 
 which the words "Upper Clapton" were inscribed, 
 and happily meeting in a few minutes with the object 
 
 k 
 
74 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 of his search, took his seat therein, and precisely at 
 half-past one o clocli knocked at the door of a small 
 domicile in that locality. 
 
 "Mr. Ingleby!" said Claudia, in a tone of joyful 
 surprise, and the gentleman, with becoming gallantry, 
 drew off his glove to take the young lady's proffered 
 hand, which he held rather longer than the rules of 
 etiquette required. ^^Qien the usual compliments had 
 been exchanged, and he was left alone with Mr. 
 Basset, he at once began to speak of the absentee, 
 and inquire into the particulars of his departure, 
 which Mr. Basset replied to by putting into his hand 
 Charles's letter, which he read with great attention, 
 and after reflecting upon it for a few minutes, said, — 
 
 " You appear to look upon the step your son has 
 taken as an act of rashness to be lamented ; but, I 
 must confess, I see it in a very different jioint of 
 view. It is clear to me from this, that he has not 
 been actuated by a reckless feeling of desperation, 
 but has thought seriously of what he was about to do, 
 and has most likely come to a wise conclusion. De- 
 pend upon it, he has gone with good hopes and good 
 intentions — ^lie seems detemiined to repair his eiTor 
 as far as possible ; and who can tell but what all that 
 has haj)pened may have been wdsely ordained for 
 some good end." 
 
 " I would most willingly believe it," replied Mr. 
 Basset, wiping the tears from his eyes, "perhaps it 
 may be so ; but the loss of my poor unhappy boy is a 
 hard trial nevertheless. If I could only laiow where 
 he is, and what he is going to do, I should be satis- 
 fied." 
 
 " No, you would not — jon would want him to 
 come back again ; and that might not be the best 
 thing for either of you. It is veiy likely he will not 
 let you know anything about it till he is beyond 
 reach." : ,: 
 
 "It is your opinion, then, that he is leaving Eng- 
 land?" 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 75 
 
 <( 
 
 I think there can be no doubt of it; but, my 
 jood friend, it ought to be a great consolation to you 
 
 know that he has so much good feehng, and that 
 le puts his trust in the right place." 
 
 These and similar arguments were balm to the 
 leart of the afflicted father. 
 
 " I thank you," he said, " I thank you most sin- 
 cerely — ^yes ; I feel that you are right, and this as- 
 [lurance comforts me. Perhaps it is the best thing, 
 ifter all." 
 
 There can be no question about that; for, as 
 long as he remained here his mind would never re- 
 jover its proper tone. Whatever may be the course 
 le has chosen, the very confidence he expresses of its 
 success will stimulate him to use all his energies in 
 )ursuit of it ; and if you could but reconcile yourself 
 to the separation, it is my firm belief there is more 
 reason for joy than for sorrow." 
 
 "Well, well — I will at least try to think so — ^but 
 rou are not a father." 
 
 "True; therefore I am in the better condition to 
 irgue the point wisely, and without prejudice. Every- 
 ling takes its hue from the medium through which 
 le see it; and now, permit me to ask if you have 
 lecided upon your own plans, for I presume you do 
 lot mean to stay here." 
 
 *' I have decided on nothing yet, and for myself it 
 latters but little, for my days will not be long in the 
 ^nd; but, for the sake of my children, I must fix 
 ipon some plan that will secure a home for them, 
 lowever humble it may be, in case I should be sud- 
 lenly taken from them, that is my chief anxiety 
 low." 
 
 It was remarkable that, in speaking of his daughters' 
 Future prospects, Mr. Basset, since his bankruptcy, had 
 ^never once alluded to the subject of Claudia's mai-. 
 riage, which, till then, had been an almost every-day 
 topic of conversation. Even in talking to Claudia 
 herself, he spoke of the time to come without any 
 
76 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 reference to her engagement, nor were the Femdales 
 ever mentioned by either of them. This had been 
 observed by Mr. Ingleby every time he had been at 
 Clapton, for this was not his first visit, but he had 
 too much dehcacy to notice it, and rephed to Mr. 
 Basset by making a proposition he had been con- 
 templating ever since he received Mr. Ray's commu- 
 nication in the mominsr. It was to this effect. A 
 small tenement called the Bridge House, the property 
 of Mr. Ingleby, had become vacant by the death of 
 the late occupant. It consisted of an old farm-house, 
 some garden-ground and two fields adjoining another 
 and larger farm, also belonging to Mr. Ingleby and 
 tenanted by Mr. Ray, who, being in a flourishing 
 condition, was desirous of adding those two fields to 
 the land he already held ; but he did not want to take 
 the house and garden : therefore it occurred to Mr. 
 Ingleby that it might afford at least a temporary asy- 
 lum to the family in whose welfa,re he certainly felt a 
 more than ordinary interest. 
 
 " I can very well afford to do this," he said to him- 
 self by way of excuse; "for if Ray takes the fields, I 
 shall still be a gainer, as poor Burton had got out of 
 the habit of paying his rent." 
 
 The generous proposal was made and freely ac- 
 cepted ; for Mr. Basset, though a proud man in many 
 respects, knew how to estimate a real act of friend- 
 ship, and it was finally arranged that he and his 
 daughters should take up their abode in Hampshire 
 as soon as the house Avas ready for their reception. 
 
THE BEOTHEFvS BASSET. 77 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HEN Mr. Ingleby returned from Clapton he forth- 
 ith summoned his housekeeper, and requested her 
 see that a proper sui:>ply of needful apparel was 
 acked into his portmanteau that evening for a three 
 days' sojourn out of town ; and accordingly, on the 
 following morning he departed by an early train for 
 ^^Basingstoke, whence he proceeded in a fly through a 
 beautiful part of the country, to a pleasant habitation 
 called the Hill Farm, about eight miles from the town 
 above-mentioned. It was an old-fashioned, but ex- 
 |»eedingly comfortable farm-house, occupied by a 
 'personage of some notoriety in the county, and pro- 
 perly called Fi*eshfield Ray, although equally well or 
 |)erhaps better known by either of the soubriquets 
 ^ Little John," or " the Hampshire giant." He was 
 i young man, not more than six or seven-and-twenty, 
 !?hose personal attributes had obtained for him the 
 lather remarkable distinctive titles above-mentioned, 
 nasmuch as he measured full five inches over six 
 feet, and rejoiced in a frame of proportionate strengdi 
 and breadth. 
 
 The heart enshrined in this colossal form was of 
 the best quality, as no one could doubt who looked on 
 
7i8 THE BE0THER3 BASSET. 
 
 the frank, bright, open countenance of the young 
 farmer, whose step was as light and movements as 
 agile as those of a man not half his size or weight. 
 But Mr. Eay had other claims to popularity besides 
 these, for he was perfectly easy in his worldly circum- 
 stances, his father having died about two years before, 
 leaving him in possession of a thriving farm held on 
 a long lease, and of some three or four thousand 
 pounds in consols, with other valuable property in 
 lead mines. The elder Mr. Ray, a most worthy, but 
 plain and illiterate man, had not considered it neces- 
 sary to give his son a high education, but he had sent 
 him to the grammar-school till he was fourteen, so 
 that he had acquired some knowledge of the classics, 
 a little French, and enough mathematics to make his 
 father stare with wonder, and look upon him as a 
 prodigy of learning. His later pursuits had not 
 indeed been such as tended to the refinement of his 
 habits or manners ; still his mind was of no common 
 order, and his ideas and feelings were those of a 
 gentleman, however roughly they might at times be 
 expressed. As it was many yeai's since Mr. Ingleby 
 had been in Hampshire, he had not seen young Ray 
 since he was a small, shy school-boy, with a thin face 
 and ungraceful gait, consequently he was unprepared 
 for the sight of so striking a figure as the same indi- 
 vidual now presented to his astonished eyes. At the 
 moment of his introduction, Mr. Ray happened to be 
 engaged in practically discussing the merits of a huge 
 smoking dish of eggs and bacon, flanked on one side 
 by a silver tankard of ale, and, on the other, by a 
 black bottle and a wine-glass of capacious dimensions. 
 Now, under these circumstances, the proper etiquette 
 was to show the visitor into the best parlour where 
 nothing of the kind was going on ; but it chanced 
 that, just as he reached the house-door and was about 
 to knock, it was opened by a youth who looked mar- 
 vellously like a plough-boy, with a thick slice of bread 
 and^a lump of cheese in his hand, his lips stilly exhi- 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 79 
 
 biting frothy signs of a recent draught of ale. To 
 this young gentleman, Mr. Ingleby, addressed an in- 
 quiry as to whether Mr. Eay was at home, on which 
 he pointed to a door, and said, with his mouth full of 
 read and cheese, — • 
 " In there." 
 
 Mr. Ingleby tapped gently at the door thus politely 
 idicated, and was desired by a loud, clear, pleasant 
 )ice, to " come in," so in he went, and the scene 
 ist described was revealed to his sight. 
 Mr. Kay w^as rather startled at being surprised in 
 le midst of his repast by a stranger, but he guessed 
 istantly who it was, and shaking hands with a good- 
 mmoured smile, bade him welcome. At the same 
 loment, a female-voice was heard outside, — 
 " Whoy, Dick ; how comed ye to show the gentle- 
 man in there? That be'ant manners." 
 i "Be'ant it?" was the repV. "What be manners, 
 then?" 
 
 "The parlour, to be sure," said the first speaker; 
 which the boy responded, " Oh," and here the col- 
 )quy ended. 
 
 The young farmer coloured, but could not suppress 
 lis laughter, in which his visitor heartily joined, and 
 )eing cordially invited to sit down, and partake of 
 he good things on the table, he gladly accepted the 
 )roffered hospitality, having had nothing since an 
 larly breakfast in town. 
 
 "But this will not do for your dinner," said the 
 lost; "I shall order something better to be ready at 
 rour usual hour, which I suppose is five or six 
 >'clock." 
 
 "By no means, I mean to make a most excellent 
 linner now, I assure you. But, my good young 
 friend, I can hardly believe you are the little boy I 
 used to see running about the fields some few years 
 ago." 
 
 " There's rather more of me, I believe," said the 
 Colossus, laughing, and drawing himself up shghtly, 
 
80 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 as if proud of his vast proportions; and as Mr. 
 Ingleby glanced at his fine athletic figure, he could 
 not help remarking to himself, — 
 
 " He is really a splendid young fellow." 
 
 Probably Mr. Eay saw what Avas passing in his 
 mind, for a conscious smile played round his mouth 
 at the instant which made his guest smile too, and 
 from that moment a mutual warmth of friendly feel- 
 ing subsisted between them. After dinner some 
 excellent wine was produced, and the two gentlemen 
 then began to talk over the business that had brought 
 Mr. Ingleby into Hampshire, and in the course of 
 conversation, he said, — 
 
 " Well, Ray, as you have made up your mind to 
 take the two fields, I know what to do with the 
 house, and shall send you down some very dangerous 
 neighbours, so you will have to take care of yom:self 
 I can tell you." 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! Pray, what is the danger to be 
 feared ? " 
 
 " One not easy to guard against, for it will present 
 itself in the shape of two very charming young 
 ladies." 
 
 " Oh ! if that is all, I am afraid I shall be for 
 courting the danger instead of guarding against it." 
 
 " Spoken like a true hero," said Mr. Ingleby ,51 
 laughing ; " but I beg you will remember that I gave 
 you timely warning, so you must not blame me for 
 any mischief that may ensue." 
 
 He then proceeded to explain who the new neigh- 
 bours were to be, and under what circumstances they 
 were coming to reside at the Bridge House ; sup- 
 pressing, however, the fact, that they Avere to live 
 rent free, to all which his auditor listened^vith the 
 deepest attention. 
 
 "And now," said Mr. Ingleby, "we must get this 
 poor fellow, Burton, buried as soon as we can, for I 
 shall stay at Basingstoke till all that business is over, 
 that I^ may see what sort of state the house is ii 
 
THE BEOTHEHfS BASSET. 81 
 
 as I should like it to be put into tolerable condition 
 before my friends come there." 
 
 " But, my dear sir, why should you stay at Basing- 
 stoke? There is plenty of room for you here, and I 
 shall be very glad of your company if you can put 
 up with the rough accommodation I am able to offer 
 you. At any rate it will be more convenient to be 
 on the spot, and I will make you as comfortable as 
 I can." 
 
 Mr. Ingleby accepted this friendly offer without 
 hesitation ; and, in fact, he was so much pleased with 
 the frankness and cordiality of his host, that he felt 
 disposed to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance 
 with him, especially as he had some idea of making 
 frequent visits to that part of the country. 
 
 kThe late occupant of Bridge House was buried on 
 e day but one following, and the next morning Mr. 
 gleby went to survey the premises, which he found 
 m a very dilapidated condition, and containing but 
 ' ttle furniture beyond a few old-fashioned chairs 
 vered w4th black horsehair, a hard sofa to match, 
 d a mahogany dining-tablc, with a leaf hanging down 
 |li each side, which, when raised, was supported by the 
 ovement of one leg, an ingenious contrivance 
 lelonging to some remote period, when the arts and 
 ^iences of Great Britain were in their infancy, 
 liere was also, in the best room, a well-darned 
 idderminster carpet, regarded as a choice specimen 
 if luxury by the old servant of the house, andalook- 
 g-glass in a black frame over the chimneypiece. 
 he old woman, whose name was Peggy, seemed to 
 ntertain a particular veneration for the last-men- 
 |ioned pieces of antiquity, but more especially for the 
 larpet, which might almost have been considered the 
 (reduction of her own skill and industry, as it was 
 composed chiefly of tlie darns performed by her ow]i 
 hands during the last five-and-thirty years, there 
 being only here and there a small patch of the ori- 
 ginal fabric remaining, showing colours that once had 
 
 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 
 
 been red and green, the sad and faded relics of its 
 former splendour. Peggy, therefore, eyed this 
 cherished memorial with pride and pleasure as she 
 ushered Mr. Ingleby into the state apartment, which, 
 she told him, had always been kept for the best room, 
 and only used when there was comjiany. 
 
 Peggy had lived in this house since her girlhood, 
 and did not seem to have the least idea that her right 
 of remaining on the premises was to be affected by 
 any change of masters ; consequently she talked of 
 " cleaning up " against the arrival of " the new folks," 
 and was perfectly astonished when the landlord, as 
 she styled Mr. Ingleby, intimated that something 
 more than cleaning up would be necessary previous 
 to the coming of the fresh tenants. 
 
 Now Peggy was a fact on which Mr. Ingleby had 
 not calculated, and it puzzled him exceedingly, inas- 
 much as he did not see clearly what was to be done 
 with her ; but from this difficulty he was relieved by 
 Mr. Ray, who said that she was a faithful, good old 
 creature, and so attached to the house that it would 
 break her heart to leave it. He therefore proposed 
 that she should continue to live there as a part of the 
 domestic establishment, but that her chief business 
 should be to attend to his daiiy, and feed his poultry, 
 in consideration of which services he would pay all 
 the expenses of maintaining her ; and as he had 
 taken the land held by her late master, the field of 
 her labours would be the same as heretofore, so that 
 she would feel no change, and the Bassets "v^^ould be 
 relieved from the burden of keeping a supernume- 
 rary. Mr. Ingleby was very much pleased with this 
 proposition, in which he perceived so much genuine 
 kindliness of heart that it fully confirmed him in the 
 favourable opinion he already entertained of his new 
 friend. One day, as they were strolling together over 
 the farm, he said, — 
 
 " How is it, Ray, that you are not mamed?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; the truth is, I have never 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 83 
 
 thouglit much about it; but I suppose I shall some 
 of these days." 
 
 " I hope so, for I am convinced it is the best thing 
 a man can do at your age, although unfortunately I 
 cannot speak from experience." 
 
 " But, my dear sir, it is not too late to gain expe- 
 ience, is it?" 
 Mr Ingleby smiled. 
 
 " Perhaps not," he answered ; " but I believe it is 
 better to begin married life at an earlier period : men 
 acquire selfish habits by living alone to my time of 
 ife ; and I find now that whenever I turn my thoughts 
 towards matrimony I feel afraid of the revolution it 
 would inevitably cause in all my domestic arrange- 
 
 ^ments." 
 
 W " And the revolution is sure to be attended by a 
 cjhange of government," observed Mr. Eay, laughing; 
 
 ilr^ I suppose that is what you object to ?" 
 
 If " Why, I must confess I like to have my own way 
 
 — yet " and here the speaker sighed. '* Yet I often 
 
 regret that I have neither son nor daughter to bestow 
 
 iMny affections upon, for they sadly w^ant a resting 
 
 '*place, — I feel alone in the world.' It is a mistake 
 not to marry while you are a young man, depend 
 
 .^upon it." 
 
 \W His companion answered with another merry 
 laugh, — 
 
 V "Ah! I see you will turn revolutionist after all," 
 
 Ro which he responded, by a doubtful shake of the 
 head ; and here the conversation was interrupted by 
 one of the farm labourers, nor was anything more 
 said on the subject. The time passed so pleasantly 
 that, at the end of a week, Mr. Ingleby was quite 
 surprised to find he had been so long at the farm ; 
 nor did it require much eloquence on the part of 
 his host to draw from him a promise that he would 
 come down again very soon ; and, in the meantime, 
 Mr. Ray took upon himself the task of superintending 
 the repairs that were to be done at the Bridge House, 
 
84 THE DROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 Mr. Ingleby had not neglected to take steps for the 
 discovery of Charles Basset ; but they had proved 
 unavailing, and the only conclusion his friends could 
 come to was, that he had taken his passage to some 
 foreign land in another name. It was about a week 
 after his disappearance that Mr. Basset received the 
 following letter :-« 
 
 " My dear Sib. 
 
 *• It is with feelings of deep regret that, upon 
 mature reflection, I have arrived at the painful con- 
 viction that it is my duty as a father, to communicate 
 to you my sentiments on a subject that concerns us 
 both equally as regards the interests of our children, 
 which must be a source of anxiety to you as well as 
 to myself, and I think you will see, with me, that it 
 would not be to the advantage of either of them, to 
 act upon an engagement formed with views which, 
 under existing circumstances, cannot be carried out. 
 I trust you will believe that I most sincerely lament 
 the unfortunate occurrences that have placed us iiij 
 this position with regard to each other, and 
 solemnly affirm that, were I a richer man, no sucl 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 85 
 
 considerations would for a moment counterbalance 
 the esteem and regard I have always entertained for 
 yourself and your family ; but you must be well 
 aware that, with three sons who have all to make 
 their own way in the world, it is highly requisite 
 that I should look to their means of doing so, and 
 
 *e all know that marriage entails serious expenses, 
 id that men ought to consider how those expenses 
 are to be met before they rush into them. Young 
 people are apt to overlook these things ; but you and 
 , as men of business, know very well that something 
 ore than love is required for the maintenance of a 
 mily, and I candidly tell you that Frank is. not at 
 resent in a position to marry, without some prospect 
 f pecuniary assistance beyond what I can afford 
 "m. 
 
 *' It was my wish and intention to meet you on 
 qual terms, and unless that could be the case, I 
 
 Rertainly should not advise my son, and I think you 
 rould not advise your daughter, to plunge them- 
 elves into difficulties by an imprudent alliance. 
 Frank is naturally reluctant to break a tie that he 
 
 Keems sacred. He considers it a point of honour .to 
 ilfil his pledge under any circumstances, and de- 
 clares that nothing but the young lady's own desire 
 IMtould justify him in acting otherwise; still he cannot 
 ^hut his eves to tlie truth, and has consented to be 
 guided entirely by the decision of your amiable 
 daughter, in whose good sense and discretion he has 
 the most perfect confidence. It may, perhaps, be 
 ■tiany years before he is in a situation to * take unto 
 ^imself a wife ' — for the Bar is but a slow road to 
 wealth, or even competence ; nevertheless, if Miss 
 j^asset is willing to ' bide the time,' so be it ; but if, 
 "n the contrary, she should think it desirable to free 
 herself from an engagement that may be detrimental 
 to her future prospects, he is ready to release her 
 from it. With her, therefore, the matter now rests, 
 and, pending tliis uncertainty, I think it is best they 
 
86 THE BROTHERS BASSET, 
 
 should not meet. The same consideration prevents 
 me also from having the pleasm'e of paying my re- 
 spects to you in person, but I trust you will accept 
 the assurance of my friendly regard, and believe me, 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " William Ferndale." 
 
 It would be impossible to express the indignation 
 of Mr. Basset as he perused this artfully-worded 
 epistle. Anger, contempt, and wounded dignity by 
 turns agitated his mind as he paced the narrow aj^art- 
 ment with the open letter in his hand. 
 
 " What ! " he muttered to himself, " is he afraid of 
 damages ? does he think I am fallen so low that I 
 should bring my daughter's name into a court of 
 justice, and publish to the world the insult she has 
 received? Does he suppose I do not see through 
 tliis contemptible manoeuvre ? Does he think my 
 child has so little pride or spirit as to set a price 
 upon a husband, or hold his son to a contract he 
 desires to break ? How dares he to insult me with 
 his i:>rofessions of friendship ! It is past all bear- 
 ing ! " 
 
 He was still in this excited state when Claudia 
 entered the room, and seeing the letter, which he 
 still held open in his hand, inquired with alarmed 
 looks, whether he had heard of her brother. 
 
 *' No," he replied ; " would to God I had. This is 
 from Sir William Ferndale — not a pleasant commu- 
 nication, my child, cither for you or for me — but, I 
 trust, we shall both be able to treat it as it merits." 
 
 Claudia turned very pale, but she said quietly,-— 
 
 " I have expected this, dear father ; 1 am quite 
 prepared for it May I see the letter?" 
 
 He gave it to her, and when she had read it, she 
 returned it to him with a faint smile, saying, — 
 
 " There was little occasion for all this." 
 
 " Little occasion for it, indeed ! " her father replied. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 87 
 
 " But do you not perceive their miserable motives, 
 
 laudia? Do you not see that, in the meanness of 
 
 eir worldly minds, they were afraid we should want 
 
 em to pay damages for a breach of promise ? They 
 
 ad the insolence to imagine that my daughter would 
 
 o into a court of law to proclaim for the amusement 
 
 if the public, that she was deserted by her lover, and 
 
 at she valued his affections at so many hundred 
 
 ounds." 
 
 Claudia's mild eyes flashed with indignation ; and 
 
 er whole countenance, usually so calm in its ex- 
 
 ression, betrayed emotions of anger and disdain 
 
 at were quite foreign to her nature ; still she had 
 
 efficient command over herself to say composedly, — 
 
 " You must reply to this, dear father — and I will 
 
 rite to Mr. Ferndale — a few words will do." 
 
 You are right, my love ; there need be no argu- 
 ments, no reproaches, — they want such an answer as 
 ti'ill protect them from the law, and they shall have 
 t; three lines will suffice for that." 
 " I shall soon perform my part," said Claudia, as 
 he left the room, and retired to her own with a firm 
 esolution to perform without hesitation or delay the 
 painful task of bidding a final adieu to one she had 
 long regarded as the destined companion of her future 
 
 Iife; and if she breathed a sigh or dropped a tear 
 >ver the words traced by her own hand to sanction 
 the desertion of him she had loved with a true and 
 j^generous affection, she suffered no signs of regret to 
 '^appear in the few brief lines that gave him his 
 ^liberty. 
 
 B In the meantime Mr. Basset, having recovered his 
 iBcquanimity, wrote the following laconic answer to 
 Sir William's somewhat lengthy epistle. 
 
 *' Sir, 
 
 ''In answer to yours of the 15th instant, I beg 
 to say that, from the date hereof, I shall consider 
 
88 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 that no engagement whatever subsists between your 
 son and my daughter. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " James Basset." 
 
 He had scarcely finished this concise note, when 
 Claudia returned, and laid hers on the table before 
 him. He took it up, and read with un(jualified appro- 
 bation, these lines : — - 
 
 " TO MR. FRANCIS FERNBALE. 
 
 "Your father has addressed a letter to mine, in 
 which he intimates that it is your wish the engage- 
 ment between us should be at an end. It is at 
 an end. I freely and unconditionally release you 
 from your vows, and give you back that liberty which, 
 happily for us both, is not sacrificed beyond recall. 
 Nothing would ever have induced me to bind myself 
 to you, but a firm belief in the sincerity of your 
 affection. Undeceived on that point, I gladly with- 
 draw my promise, and release you from yours. May 
 you be happy. " Claudia Basset." 
 
 These two notes were despatched without delay, 
 and then Mr. Basset embraced his daughter affec- 
 tionately, and said, — • 
 
 " Claudia, you have acted wisely and well. Your 
 conduct has been exactly what I should have wished ; 
 and I think, my dearest child, we have cause to 
 rejoice at having escaped from such a near connection 
 with people so heartless and narrow-minded as these 
 have proved themselves to be." 
 
 Sir William and his son were highly elated at the 
 complete success of their "ruse de guerre;" particu- 
 larly the latter, who had reasons of his own for 
 rejoicing, which bethought it prudent for the present 
 to keep to himself, 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 89 
 
 Frank Fernclale had returned from the Continent a 
 married man. He had met, in certain circles to 
 which he had been introduced at Paris, a lady of 
 great beauty, fascinating manners, and reputed wealth, 
 who called herself the Countess Savelli, and passed 
 for the widow of an Italian Count. She talked of 
 her palace at Leghorn, and her villa on the banks of 
 the Arno ; she sang like a syren, and through the 
 medium of soft songs, insinuated to Frank Ferndalo 
 that he had made an indelible impression on her 
 heart. His vanity was gratified, his self-love was 
 flattered ; he believed, too, that he had now the 
 chance of making a splendid alliance ; and, in short, 
 the enchantress threw her spells so artfully around 
 him, that he was fairly caught, and in a moment 
 of infatuation, trusting to a speedy emancipation 
 from what he now termed his unfortunate thraldom, 
 he offered her the hand which belonged of right to 
 l^nother, and it was at once accepted. They were 
 privately married; but as Frank considered it pru- 
 dent to keep his marriage secret for a time, he left 
 is bride in Paris, and returned to London alone, 
 nee or twice he ventured to eulogise the charming 
 ountess to his father, but Sir William, instead of 
 sympathising in his rapturous admiration, told him he 
 , had better be on his guard against such people, or he 
 IPrould some day or other get taken in ; and this 
 opinion, so bluntly expressed, deterred him, even 
 ■pfter the receipt of Claudia's farewell, from saying 
 now far he really had gone, and even created unplea- 
 ant doubts in his own mind, as to whether he had 
 ted with sufficient caution in an affair of such vital 
 portance to his future prosperity. 
 
 i 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 It was about this time that Major Gilmour, with his 
 daughter, returned from Scotland, where he had been 
 detained rather longer than he expected; and the first 
 news he heard on his arrival was the downfall of the 
 Basset family, of which, till then, he had been in 
 ignorance. He received the intelligence with his 
 usual coldness, expressing neither son^ow nor sur- 
 prise ; but Florence was both shocked and grieved at 
 tidings so unexpected, and was impatient to see and 
 condole with the sufferers, towards whom her heart 
 now seemed to turn with redoubled affection. 
 
 On the following morning, therefore, not antici- 
 pating any objection on the part of her father, she 
 mentioned her intention of going to call upon them, 
 on which he elevated his eyebrows, with a slight ex- 
 pression of surprise, and said, — 
 *' Pray, where do they reside now?" 
 *' At Upi^er Clapton, sir; I have the address." 
 " Indeed ! You must have been amazingly prompt 
 in your inquiries. And how do you propose getting 
 to Clapton?" 
 
 *' If I cannot have the carriage, sir, I can send for 
 a fly." 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 91 
 
 ^p^J you please ; but I should have thought a note 
 might have answered the purpose just as well as 
 going yourself. I do not exactly see the necessity of 
 being in such haste to call." 
 -^ Florence made no reply, and the major took up the 
 Upaper, but soon laid it down again ; folded his arms 
 on his breast, and with that austere look he was in 
 the habit of assuming when his opinion differed from 
 
 ^lat of his daughter, said, — 
 " I should imagine, Florence, you will see the 
 ropriety of discontinuing the very close intimacy you 
 Iither unadvisedly commenced with that family, and 
 hich, you are aware, I did not quite approve of 
 om the first." 
 " I certainly was not aware, sir, that you objected 
 ) my visiting them." 
 *' I do not object to your making a call now and 
 then. I intend myself to leave my card, but as to 
 any further visiting, it will now be entirely out of the 
 question. In fact, I should tliink, under the present 
 circumstances, it would neither suit their means nor 
 eir inclinations." 
 
 " They will not be able to give dinner parties, 
 
 dare say, sir ; but they will be no less capable 
 
 f friendship than before." 
 
 " You are sentimental, I perceive. Most young 
 
 dies are so ; but allow me to say, Miss Gilmour, 
 
 lat it would be more to your advantage to seek your 
 
 friends amongst persons whose station is equal to 
 
 our own." 
 
 " I can do that, sir, without neglecting my 
 
 ousins " 
 
 At the mention of the word " cousins," the major's 
 row was instantly contracted, and he internipted his 
 daughter rather impatiently, — 
 
 " I think I have more than once stated that the 
 relationship, which was on your mother's side — not 
 mine — is so veiy distant, that it scarcely amounts to 
 any degree of affinity at all; at least, to none that 
 
93 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 need be acknowledged. It would therefore oblige 
 me, if you would drop the term cousins alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " I have called them so hitherto, and surely this is 
 not a time to make the difference." 
 
 " I think otherwise. We must, in this world, be 
 governed by circumstances ; and there are certain 
 rules to be observed in society, and certain dis- 
 tinctions to be made, that are absolutely indispensa- 
 ble." 
 
 Major Gilmour had forgotten the time when he was 
 glad to avail himself of Mr. Basset's superiority in 
 wealth and station, and to acknowledge him, not only 
 as a relative, but as a kind and hberal friend. These 
 circumstances, however, were unkno^NTi to Florence ; 
 for the major had too much pride, and his former 
 benefactor too much generosity, to speak of past 
 favours, which the one desired to forget, and the 
 other was too noble-minded to remember. 
 
 She therefore replied, — 
 
 " These are things I have yet to learn, sir — if, 
 indeed, they must be learned ; but, at present, I 
 cannot help being governed in great measure by my 
 own feelings." 
 
 Florence was joyfully received by the \\hole family 
 at Clapton, and listened with affectionate interest to 
 an account of all the events that had taken place 
 during her absence, for she had heard only the 
 simple facts without any of the details, and her 
 sorrow and sympathy were both powerfully excited. 
 She spoke very kindly of Charles, but in a manner 
 that showed she entertained for him no feeling 
 warmer than a friendly regard, which Avas a great 
 disappointment to Emily, who even up to this time 
 had cherished a romantic notion that, by some 
 unlooked-for means, a union between her brother 
 and Florence Gilmour would yet be brought about ; 
 for she had believed the attachment to be mutual 
 and was loth to part with this favourite delusio 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHErtS BASSET. 93 
 
 Florence remained with her friends nearly the whole 
 
 torning, and before she left had contrived to impart 
 them some share of her own natural cheerfulness. 
 " When you are quite settled down in the countiy, 
 r. Basset," she said, " you must let me come and 
 stay with you a little while. Emily and T will be 
 such good girls ; we will learn to make butter and 
 cheese, and feed the chickens ; you cannot tliink how 
 delighted 1 should be." 
 
 i" My dear Miss Gilmour, you will always give more 
 lelight than you can possibly receive, I am quite 
 pre ; and we shall be only too happy in the hope of 
 [aving so charming a guest." 
 " Very well, sir ; I shall take you at your word, and 
 onsider myself fairly invited ; so, about the merry 
 month of May, you may look for me in Hampshire — ■ 
 that is, if my father goes to Vienna, as I expect 
 he will, and does not want me to go with him," 
 n " Then I most sincerely hope, my dear, he will go 
 To Vienna, and will not want you to go with him. 
 But there are more pleasant months m the year 
 " .asides May, and we shall expect you to fulfil your 
 omise at any rate before the summer is over." 
 Florence said that if she failed to do so, it certainly 
 ould not be her own fault — an assurance that was 
 ceived with heartfelt pleasure ; and as soon as she 
 as gone, Emily exclaimed, with her usual vehe- 
 ence, — 
 
 " What a noble girl she is ! But I knew it. I was 
 ire that if all the rest of the world deserted us, she 
 would never change." 
 
 KWhen Florence reached home it was near the 
 nner hour, and, hastening to her own room to 
 'ess, she was greeted by her maid with the miwcl- 
 ine intelligence that Captain Romer had been in 
 the library with the major for more than two hours, 
 and was going to stay to dinner. This interview 
 boded her no good; its purport she could scarcely 
 doubt, and she foresaw that it was likely to lead to a 
 
M THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 serious disagreement between herself and her father. 
 It was some reUef to her that two other gentlemen 
 dined with Major Gilmour that day, and that none of 
 the party left the dining-room till j)ast ten o'clock, so 
 that she had leisure to reflect on what was likely to 
 happen, and make up her mind how to act. 
 
 When the gentlemen did appear in the drawing- 
 room. Captain Eomer seemed in high spirits ; and if 
 Florence had entertained any doubts as to the subject 
 of his long conference with her father, they would 
 have been dispelled when, in wishing her " good- 
 night," he said in a peculiar and low tone of voice, — 
 
 " I shall have the honour of seeincj vou to-morrow 
 morning, Miss Gilmour." 
 
 Captain Eomer had as much vanity as most men, 
 and a vast deal more than many of greater merit, yet 
 he could not be wholly insensible to the glaring fact, 
 that Florence showed no disposition whatever to 
 favour his pretensions ; but he was neither discou- 
 raged, nor disquieted by this circumstance; for, in 
 calculating the chances of success, he gave so much 
 weight to the influence of the major's arbitrary cha- 
 racter, that he felt satisfied the odds were consider- 
 ably in his favour, and was perfectly easy as to the 
 issue of his suit. 
 
 The next morning Major Gilmour, with great 
 formality, infoiTiied his daughter that he had received 
 on her account a proposal of marriage from Captain 
 Eomer, at the same time giving her to understand 
 that, as he considered it as an offer in every respect 
 eligible, he expected that she would raise no ob- 
 jections. 
 
 " Lord Merrington," he said , " is a man not likely 
 to live many years ; the estates are entailed, and his 
 nephew's claim to the succession is indisputable. In 
 short, there is nothing whatever to object to, and I 
 should wish the necessary arrangements to be made 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 Florence, who had been silent diu'ing the whole of 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 95 
 
 is harangue, now said very quietly, but in a decided 
 anner, — 
 
 " Any arrangements, sir, with a view to a marriage 
 etween me and Captain Eomer, would he super- 
 uous, as it never can take place." 
 " Never can take place ? I do not exactly com- 
 rehend your meaning." 
 
 ' I mean, sir, that I have so little regard for Cap- 
 in Romer, that no consideration will ever induce 
 e to marry him." 
 
 "This is frivolous, Miss Gilmour; childish in the 
 
 xtreme. AVhat can possibly be your objection to so 
 
 esirable an alliance?" 
 
 "Simply this, sir. 1 do not like the man; his 
 
 anners are disagreeable to me, and his character, 
 
 far as I am acquainted with it, is such as I cannot 
 
 approve." 
 
 -^ " His manners are those of a gentleman, I appre- 
 
 iBbend ; and his character is, I suppose, much like 
 
 IBhat of other single men of good expectations. Such 
 
 l^cruples are, in reality, of no importance whatever, 
 
 with reference to a contract of this nature, where 
 
 ere are the advantages of a peerage and a good 
 
 state. These are considerations not to be lightly 
 
 assed over." 
 
 " Nor do I pass over them lightly ; my reasons are 
 iufhciently weighty, for it would be a heavy mfliction, 
 ndeed, to be compelled to pass my whole life with a 
 an whose company, even for a single day, I would 
 Iways rather avoid." 
 " The cases are not analogous. In contracting a 
 arriage, you fix your future position in the world ; 
 nd not only your own, but that of your descendants, 
 onsequently of mine ; therefore it is not to be con- 
 idered as a mere matter of taste as regards the choice 
 f a companion, but as an act of importance which 
 ay either elevate or degrade your family. If I had 
 een fortunate enough to have a male heir, any con- 
 nection you might form would be of comparatively 
 
06 THM BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 little^ consequence, but as it is, I shall take care that 
 no girlish folly interferes ^Yitll my views in a matter 
 that so materially concerns myself." 
 
 Florence's spirit had been rising higher and higher 
 with every^ word of this cold and calculating address ; 
 and when it was concluded she said, with a flushed 
 face and trembling lip, — 
 
 " Do you mean, sir, that I am to be disposed of, 
 like a slave, to the highest bidder, without any regard 
 to my own inclinations ?" 
 
 " I mean," replied her father sternly, " that if you 
 have so little judgment as not to see what is the 
 proper course for you to pursue, I must judge for you, 
 and, in short, I have given my w^ord, and will not re- 
 ti-act it." 
 
 " Surely," said Florence, bursting into tears, 
 " this is an exertion of authority that borders on 
 tyranny." 
 
 " You may give it what name you please, IMiss 
 Gilmour, but it is an authority I have a right to 
 exercise, and I intend to do so for your benefit as well 
 as for my own." 
 
 Florence was about to reply, but he stopped her by 
 saying,— 
 
 " It is useless to argue the question any further — 
 my mind is made up, and it is my will that you re- 
 ceive Captain Eomer as the man I have chosen for 
 my son-in-law. If you refuse to ratify the engage- 
 ment I have entered into, the consequences may be 
 such as you little expect, and repentance will then 
 come too late." 
 
 Having spoken this threat, he abruptly left the 
 room, and Florence soon afterwards heard him go 
 out. For some time she remained in deep and anxious 
 thought. Accustomed as she had always been to her 
 father's overbearing temper, slie was scarcely pre- 
 pared for such selfish disregard of her happiness as 
 he had now shown, and began to foresee more serious 
 consequences to herself from her rejection of the 
 
THE BBOTHEBS BASSET. ' 97 
 
 proposed alliance than she had hitherto contem- 
 plated ; yet her repugnance to it was so much in- 
 creased by this veiy anticipation that it amounted to 
 positive disgust, and she could not help hating one 
 who, contemptible as he was in himself, seemed to 
 hold her destiny completely in his power. Her 
 father's last words were ambiguous, but that they had 
 a meaning she did not for an instant doubt, for he 
 ■Nis not a man to speak at random, and she saw there 
 would be some great evil to endure ; but nothing could 
 be worse than this hateful marriage, which, at all 
 
 »azards, she resolved not to consent to. 
 Disagreeable as the approaching interview was to 
 er, she thought it better not to avoid it, and there- 
 fore took her work, and awaited as composedly as she 
 could her expected visitor, who very soon made his 
 appearance, and took a seat by her side with that 
 easy confidence which betokened a feeling of security 
 "^ at would in any case have been unfavourable to his 
 
 i 
 
 use, but under the present circumstances was both 
 presumptuous and offensive. 
 
 He began to play with her silks and make trifling 
 servations on the work she was engaged upon, to 
 hich she replied as briefly as possible, desirous that 
 e should come to the point at once, that she might 
 iring the affair to a speedy termination. At length, 
 eary of his frivolous remarks, and fearing that he 
 as not going to give her an opportunity of explaining 
 er sentiments to him that morning, she opened the 
 tubject herself, to his very great surprise, by saying, — 
 I understand, Captain Komer, you had some con- 
 ersation with my father yesterday relative to me, and 
 am anxious you should know at once that his views 
 ,nd mine, with regard to the proposition you have 
 een pleased to make, are so entirely different, that 
 any explanation on your part to me would be super- 
 fluous, and I hope my candour will be the means of 
 saving you unnecessary trouble." 
 
 Romer was so utterly disconcerted at this unex- 
 
 7 
 
98 THE BROTHEKS BASSET. 
 
 pected address, that for a few moments lie was unable to 
 make any reply to it, but, soon recovering his self-pos- 
 session, he began to pour forth a volley of protestations 
 as to the ardour and sincerity of his love, and the admi- 
 ration with which she had inspired him from the first 
 moment he beheld her. All that such lovers say on 
 such occasions he said ; but it produced no otlier 
 effect than that of exercising the patience of the 
 listener, who offered no inteiTuption, nor responded 
 in any way, until he entreated her to recall what she 
 had, as he expressed it, so cruelly said, and allow him 
 to hope for a kinder answer. 
 
 She then said very quietly that anything he could 
 urge would be of no avail, that her sentiments 
 were not likely to change, and that further dis- 
 cussion would therefore be useless as well as un- 
 pleasant. 
 
 Mortification, disappointment, and suppressed re- 
 sentment were visible in every feature of the rejected 
 suitor. His pride and vanity were both deeply 
 wounded ; and, what was worse, his hope of speedy 
 relief from pecuniary embarrassments that were be- 
 coming every day more difficult to contend with, were 
 crushed for the present by this unlooked-for refusal. 
 If Florence had betrayed any signs of emotion, if 
 her lip had trembled, or her cheek had flushed, he 
 would not have felt his case hopeless, but the cool 
 indifference with which his declaration had been re- 
 ceived, made it sufficiently clear, even through the 
 mist of vanity that generally obscured his mental 
 vision, that he had very little chance of success 
 beyond what he might gain from pai'ental authority. 
 On this he still relied, and said, half sullenly, half 
 scornfully, — 
 
 "You are aware. Miss Gilmour, that my preten- 
 sions are honoured with your father's approbation, 
 and that being the case, you cannot be surprised if I 
 should not very easily resign them. Time may, peij- 
 haps, alter your present sentiments, and — ' — " 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET, ^9 
 
 " If you choose to deceive yourself, Captain Eo- 
 er," said Florence, interrupting him, " the fault is 
 not mine. I tell you explicitly that my sentiments 
 will never change, therefore it would be far better for 
 your own sake, even more than for mine, that you 
 should withdraw your proposal, for it can only end in 
 disappointment." 
 1^ " I cannot," he replied with some vehemence. " I 
 cannot, and I will not — so long as the least hope re- 
 mains." 
 w " That is to say, so long as there is a chance that 
 '^ny father's will may force me to act contrary to my 
 own inclinations — I thank you, sir — I know now what 
 I shall have to contend with, and shall be prepared 
 for it ; if my resolution had not already been fixed and 
 inalterable, your present conduct, unworthy as it is 
 Hf a gentleman and a man of honour, would have 
 made it so." 
 
 In saying these words she rose and was leaving the 
 
 room, when he made an effort to detain her by taking 
 
 her hand, which was instantly withdrawn, as she said 
 
 ^ith a haughtiness she seldom assumed, — 
 
 n " Excuse me. Captain Homer, if I decline to hold 
 
 lltny further conversation with you on a. subject which 
 
 you seem disposed to render as disagreeable to me as 
 
 possible. Good morning, sir." 
 
 BAnd with a slight courtesy she quitted the room. 
 " What a bore ! " he muttered to himself, as he took 
 p his hat ; " a precious deal of trouble I shall have, 
 I suppose ; but tlie governor's will is law, that's quite 
 certain, and he will never stand much of this. It 
 may cause some delay, but it must be all right in the 
 end." 
 
100 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 : CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Captain Romer dined that day at his club, and having 
 imbibed a sufficient quantity of champagne to elevate 
 him several degrees above his ordinary temperament, 
 called at the lodgings of one of his intimate asso- 
 ciates, where he found several others, all belonging to 
 a certain set, smoking cigars, and holding a debate on 
 the knotty point of how it would be most expedient 
 to pass away the hours till midnight. 
 
 *' I'm for billiards," said one, 
 
 " That won't do for me, then," responded another, 
 " for I've got a confounded sprain of the wrist ; so, if 
 you decide for billiards, I'm off." 
 
 " Suppose we all stay here, tlien," said Romer, 
 " and try our luck at loo." 
 
 This proposal was unanimously applauded, cards 
 were produced, bottles and glasses put on a side 
 table, and the whole party sat down to play at un- 
 limited loo. 
 
 In his present frame of mind, Romer was glad of 
 tlie excitement, and played so recklessly, that, at the 
 end of one hour, he had lost no less a sum than one 
 hundred and twenty pounds. 
 I Heated with wine, and enraged at such an exin 
 
If 
 
 THE BEOTHEKS BASSET. 101 
 
 rdlnaiy run of ill luck, he rose from the table in a 
 iolent passion, declaring there must have been unfair 
 lay, on which the principal winner insisted upon 
 nowing what he meant, and at whom his obsei'va- 
 ion was levelled. 
 "At you, if you choose to take it," answered 
 omer. 
 
 " Then this is levelled at you ! " exclaimed the 
 ther, in a fury, at the same time seizing an empty 
 ecanter, and tin-owing it with such force at Komer's 
 ead, that, if he had not sprung back very adroitly, 
 must have inflicted a much more serious injury 
 an it did ; but, as it was, it bruised his temple 
 ather severely. 
 Recovering himself in a moment, however, he 
 Jarted like a tiger on his assailant, and a fierce 
 Ifccuffle ensued, but the rest interfered between them, 
 and they were at length, with some difficulty, sepa- 
 ted. 
 
 " Ton my soul, I wish you would behave like 
 entlemen, if you come here," said the host; "this 
 n't pleasant, 'pon my soul 1 " 
 
 " Who do you accuse of not behaving like a gentle- 
 an ?" said Eomer, turning fiercely upon him. 
 " Why, you, for one ; and I say again, it's devilish 
 iigentlemanly, 'pon my soul ! " 
 " I'm ready to prove myself a gentleman at any 
 me you choose to name," vociferated the captain, 
 a violent rage, 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense ! I am not going to fight with 
 rou." 
 " Then you are a coward ! " 
 
 "You are a fool, and not very sober; so I think 
 rou had better go home and go to bed, 'pon my 
 kul." 
 
 " T am sober ; and I won't go till every one of this 
 "company acknowledges that I am a gentleman ! " 
 
 " Then I fancy you will have to stay here for the 
 rest of your life," said one of the party, laughing 
 
1013 TJFIE BKOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 heartily at his own witticism, which would certainly 
 have caused another affray, had not the utterer of the 
 jest prudently withdrawn himself from the scene of 
 action ; and, shortly afterwards, Captain Romer was 
 prevailed upon to betake himself to his hotel, having 
 repeatedly hurled defiance at ever}'- individual present, 
 and valorously reiterated his determination to chal- 
 lenge each of them in turn, and vindicate his claim 
 to the character of a gentleman by a series of single 
 combats. 
 
 In the morning, he awoke with a violent head- 
 ache, and a dim recollection of the events of the pre- 
 ceding night, amongst which the most prominent 
 was that of his heavv loss, which was rather a serious 
 affair to him just at this time, as he had several other 
 debts of honour to discharge, and ^vanted money 
 besides to go on with. His only resource, in this 
 dilemma, was a fresh mortgage on his estate, and this 
 he resolved to effect at any sacrifice, trusting that he 
 should soon be in a condition to redeem it if he 
 thought proper. 
 
 In pursuance of this plan, he presented himself, 
 without delay, at the office of Messrs. Lloyd and 
 Dobson, solicitors, who had transacted business of a 
 similar nature for him before, and to whom he now 
 applied for fifteen hundred pounds, in addition to 
 sums already advanced on the same security. 
 
 Now these gentlemen were fair dealing, honom-- 
 able men, who, although they did not object to invest 
 money in a profitable manner, were not of that class 
 who are ready to take advantage of the necessities of 
 thoughtless, extravagant young men, who, like Esau, 
 rashly barter their future hopeful prospects for the 
 convenience of the passing hour. Mr. Dobson, a 
 business-like man of few words, listened to Captain 
 Eomer's proposition wath profound gravity, merely 
 saying at inteiTals, " oh," " ah," " yes," " exactly," and 
 other expletives, which usually formed his share of a 
 dialogue with any one of his clients, as they answeri ' 
 
 1 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 3 03 
 
 all the purposes of showing he was not asleep, while 
 they gave not the smallest insight into his thoughts 
 or opinions about any matter on which he was con- 
 sulted. His answer, with regard to the present busi- 
 ness was, that he could say nothing at all about it 
 until he had consulted his partner, who was out of 
 town, and would not be back for three days ; conse- 
 quently, Eomer left the office in a very discontented 
 mood. 
 
 »" One might as well try to get honey out of a dry 
 list, as a single word to go upon from that cautious 
 d fellow," he muttered, as he walked down the 
 reet ; " a blessed thing to be sure, to have to wait 
 three days, and not be certain of getting it done after 
 all. — The money I must have, at all events, and if 
 Dobson would tell me whether they would do it Or 
 not, I should know what to do ; but there's nothing 
 for it now but to wait and see." 
 
 On the fourth day he went again, and then he saw 
 Mr. Lloyd, a lively, shrewd-looking httle man, with a 
 ore voluble tongue than his grave coadjutor. 
 " I should not advise you to do this," he said ; 
 ^ the estate is already deeply mortgaged, and the sum 
 u now want is the utmost that can be raised upon 
 It would be imprudent ; in fact, we would ratlier 
 ot do it." 
 
 Then I must find somebody that will," replied 
 omer ; " for I must have money at once, and the 
 security is good enough, I suppose?" 
 ^ " Oh, yes ! there is no objection to the security ; 
 but I tell you fairly, that, if we take this mortgage on 
 your terms, and you are not able to redeem the 
 property in one year from this time, we shall fore- 
 close, and you will then have parted with it for less 
 than two thirds of its value." 
 
 " I don't care what the deuce you mean to do a 
 year hence, provided you assist me now ; besides, I 
 shall be able to redeem the estate long before that 
 time, I am quite sure of that." 
 
 r< (( 
 
104 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 "A matrimonial scheme, I suppose?" 
 
 "Exactly; an Indian heiress — 'thirty thousand 
 down, and a mine of wealth in prospect." 
 
 " Is it a settled thing, then ?" 
 
 " As good as settled ; so you may wish me joy." 
 
 " Time enough to do that when you are actually 
 married ; it would be premature, even at the church- 
 door, for ' there's many a slip ' — you know the old 
 adage?" 
 
 " Oh ! confound old adages ; you know very well, 
 Mr. Lloyd, these two or three paltry fields cannot be 
 of much importance to me in the long run." 
 
 ** Indeed, Captain Eomer, I do not know any such 
 thing ; the most that either you or I can say on that 
 point is, that present appearances certainly may war- 
 rant such a belief." 
 
 " A true lawyer to the back-bone," said the cap- 
 tain, laughing; "why, I really believe you would 
 doubt whether a bird was alive, even though you saw 
 him fly." 
 
 "At least he might be shot before he reached any 
 gi'eat height," replied the man of law, drily. 
 
 "Possibly," answered Eomer; "but that has 
 nothing to do with the present question ; so let us 
 settle it at once, if you please, — will you let me have 
 the money, or not?" 
 
 " You understand the conditions ; we must insert 
 a clause in the deed respecting the foreclosure." 
 
 " Insert as many clauses as you like, I shall not 
 trouble my head about tliem ; — when can I have the 
 amount ? " 
 
 " To-morrow, if you are in a hurry for it." 
 
 This answer suited Captain Eomer exceedingly 
 well, and he left the solicitor's office in high sj^irits, 
 not fearing that he should now be able to go on with 
 tolerable ease till Florence was brought to consent to 
 the marriage, which, he had little doubt, she would 
 be obliged to do eventually. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET 
 
 10& 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was a brilliant day in the early part of June, the 
 Sim was shining in a deep, cloudless sky, the trees 
 were clothed in their richest array, and all the love- 
 liest flowers were blooming, when Mr. Basset, with 
 his two daughters and his excellent friend Mr. In- 
 gleby, arrived at the Bridge House. 
 
 No day more favourable than this could have been 
 
 i selected from the whole range of the calendar to give 
 
 (the refugees a pleasant impression of their new abode, 
 which had assumed a very different appearance from 
 
 [that which it presented on the occasion of Mr. In- 
 gleby's former visit; for, besides the advantage of 
 
 [bright sunshine and summer verdure, Mr. Ray had 
 bestowed the greater part of his time, and put in 
 requisition his best taste, to embellish the house and 
 garden by every means in his power, both natural and 
 artificial. The domicile had, by Mr. Ingleby's de- 
 sire, been repaired and newly furnished in a plain 
 but comfortable manner ; and it now stood embowered 
 amidst the luxuriant foliage of trees and shrubs tliat 
 had been newly planted ; and the front was covered 
 with roses and clematis that clustered round the 
 windows and adorned the trellised portico. The 
 
106 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 grass-plot in front had been newly turfed, and studded 
 with beds of the brightest flowers of the season ; 
 and, in short, the late neglected, unsightly piece of 
 ground, teeming with dirt, weeds, and marigolds, was 
 converted into a beautiful garden, small, it is true, but 
 filled with bright hues and delicious odours. 
 
 Mr. Ingleby saw with pleasure the improvements 
 that had been made, which were far beyond anything 
 he could have expected, and gratified him exceedingly 
 as proofs of the friendliness of the young farmer to- 
 wards both himself and the future inmates of the 
 Bridge House. He foresaw tliat such a neighbour 
 as Freshfield Ray might be an inestimable benefit to 
 a family situated as the Bassets were, and thought he 
 could not do better than bring them together as soon 
 as possible, that something like an intimacy might be 
 established between them before he went back to 
 town. 
 
 Mr. Basset needed social intercourse more than 
 ever, for he had now lost all hope of hearing any- 
 thing of Charles, and had sunk into a state of de- 
 spondency in consequence, from which nothing could 
 arouse him. Time, instead of healing the wountl, 
 seemed to make it still deeper, and he would sit for 
 hours with his thoughts bent on distant lands, won- 
 dering in what spot, and in what circumstances, the 
 fugitive then might be. Had they been separated by 
 death the case would have been different, for then he 
 would have known that by death alone they could 
 be reunited ; but while there remained the possibility 
 tliat they might meet again on this side of the grave 
 it was the constant subject of his meditations. 
 
 Emily had recovered in great measure her natural 
 vivacity, but whenever she spoke of Charles the tears 
 would spring to her eyes, and her voice tremble with 
 emotion ; nor could even the excitement of new 
 scenes and new occupations teach her to forget, or 
 think with less of regret, on the brother she had 
 always loved so fondly. 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 107 
 
 It was past six o'clock when the party arrived at 
 the Bridge House, and old Peggy, who had been at 
 the garden-gate full half an hour watching anxiously 
 for them, had set out the tea-table wdth extraordinary 
 magnificence, according to her simple notions, for it 
 was covered with a white cloth and spread with home- 
 baked loaves, both white and brown, butter newly 
 churned, fresh-laid eggs, ham, cakes, cream, and a 
 jiumber of et ceteras in the shape of marmalade, 
 preserved fruits, and other dainties : all which, it ap- 
 "peared upon inquiry, had been sent from the Hill 
 i'arm to do honour to the arrival of the strangers. 
 
 This fact was revealed by Peggy, who, with divers 
 curtseys and speeches of welcome, had taken upon 
 herself to usher her new master and mistresses into 
 the state apartment, which she had on this grand 
 occasion converted into a banqueting-room. 
 
 " Well, now, this is kind and neighbourly of young 
 Eay," said Mr. Ingleby, surveying the well- furnished 
 table with evident satisfaction ; " he's a very pleasant 
 fellow, I assure you, and I shall be glad to introduce 
 him to your acquaintance." 
 
 Mr. Basset said as he had furnished the feast tlie 
 least they could do was to invite him to partake of 
 it, to which Mr. Ingleby replied, — 
 
 ^" A very good idea, and if Miss Basset will permit 
 e I will run over to the farm and ask him." 
 Claudia readily acquiesced, and Mr. Ingleby took 
 up his hat for that purpose ; but as he was leaving 
 the room he turned back and said to Emily, — 
 
 " I must give you a friendly caution. Miss Emily, 
 
 I for I know you are rather wickedly inclined. My 
 friend is a very worthy fellow, but he is a remarkably 
 little man, and like many diminutive people is parti- 
 cularly sensitive on that point, therefore you must not 
 laugh at his innocent endeavours to make the most of 
 himself" 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. Ingleby ; how can you ima- 
 gine I should be so ungrateful ! I would not laugh, 
 
 k 
 
108 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 for the world, though he may be no bigger tlian Tom 
 Thumb." 
 
 *' Very well, that's a bargain ; so now I shall pro- 
 ceed without fear or scruple ;" and away he went in 
 search of Freshfield Bay, enjoying the joke he was 
 perpetrating as much as any schoolboy would have 
 done ; and as soon as he was gone, Claudia asked her 
 fatlier how he liked the place. 
 
 " It is a much prettier place tlian I expected, my 
 love." 
 
 " It is a perfect little paradise," said Emily ; " I am 
 sure we shall be very happy here." 
 
 Her father sighed and shook his head, for between 
 him and happiness there ever interposed the same 
 dark cloud that shed its gloom equally over the pre- 
 sent and the future ; the cloud that threatened to 
 darken all his days, and overshadow his passage to 
 the tomb. During the first half-hour of his residence 
 in the house he was henceforth to call his home his 
 thoughts dwelt with painful intensity on the novelty 
 of his situation ; for, however the voice of friendship 
 might soften down the fact, he could not help feeling 
 that his new abode was an almshouse, and that he 
 came to it as an object of charity. It was not on his 
 own account he felt this truth so keenly, for sorrow 
 had taught him humility ; but he thought of Norman, 
 his high-minded, noble-hearted son : Norman, who 
 had been brought up with the ideas and expectations 
 of a gentleman, how w^ould he bear to see his father 
 and his sisters dependent for a house on the benevo- 
 lence of a stranger ? But mingled with these reflec- 
 tions came others of a brighter hue, for he thought of 
 his gentle, loving daughter, whose affectionate cares 
 had soothed and cheered him through all his trials ; he 
 remembered, too, that he had found a friend when he 
 most needed one, and acknowledged that, upon the 
 whole, he still had much to be thankful for. In the 
 meantime, Emily had been making what she called a 
 voyage of discovery to the Aixtic regions, or, as Mr. 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 109 
 
 Ingleby afterwards translated it, to the attic regions, 
 while Claudia was busily engaged in preparing the 
 tea. 
 
 " These gentlemen ai'e veiy long in coming," said 
 Emily; "perhaps Mr. Ingleby cannot persuade his 
 little friend to vShow himself. I wonder if he is visible 
 to the naked eye, or whether we shall need a micro- 
 scope." 
 ■ But her doubts were speedily set at rest, for, almost 
 (t the same moment, Mr. Ingleby walked into tlie 
 room followed by the Hampshire giant, at the sight of 
 l^^hom Emily uttered an involuntary exclamation of 
 Surprise, which made him laugh and colour violently, 
 for he knew the cause of it, and was highly amused at 
 Jie startling effect he had produced. There could 
 Blot have been a better time chosen for the introduc- 
 Bion of Mr. Ray tlian that precise moment, when he 
 first appeared to the astonished eyes of his new 
 iends in all the glory of six feet and a half good 
 easure. 
 
 An old-fashioned English tea-table is a wonderful 
 
 centive to social intercourse, and it is a pity that it 
 
 hould have become almost obsolete, for the tea-table 
 
 ere meant bears no affinity to the thing so called in 
 
 ese days, where the presiding goddess sits in state 
 
 efore an elegant urn in which water is never known 
 
 boil, and dispenses cups of lukew^arm beverage dig- 
 
 ified with the name of tea, or of a muddy brown 
 
 old liquid, excessively unpleasant to the taste, erro- 
 
 eously called coffee, the same being accompanied 
 
 y wafers and other small eatables that a puff of wind 
 
 t night blow away. 
 But the tea-drinking it is now our business as well 
 IS pleasure to record, was a repast worthy of the olden 
 ime, and under its genial influence the stranger guest 
 soon felt himself perfectly at home, and quite at his 
 ease. Emily did not altogether recover from the 
 embaiTassment occasioned by the unpremeditated 
 " Good gracious ! " that had escaped her on his first 
 
110 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 entrance ; but as this was rather flattering to him 
 than otherwise, it made her, of com^se, more interest- 
 ing in his eyes, and he contrived to say as many 
 agreeable things as the time would allow, for he had 
 too much delicacy to make this first visit a long 
 one. 
 
 "Well, Eay, how do you like your neighbours?" 
 said Mr. Ingleby, as tliey walked back togetlier to tlie 
 farm. 
 
 " As far as I have seen at present, sir, I like tliem 
 veiy much. The young ladies are both very hand- 
 some — don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, they are pretty girls — ^\^ery pretty — and sen- 
 sible girls too — but what I like about them is, they 
 are not always on the watch to catch husbands." 
 
 "Do ladies commonly spend their time in that 
 unprofitable manner ? " 
 
 " I question whether they find it so unprofitable as 
 you may imagine," replied Mr. Ingleby, laughing, 
 " for men are sad flats sometimes ; and, what is worse, 
 the women know it." 
 
 "Very alarming, certainly; however, I am glad 
 you do not suspect these ladies of being disposed 
 to take advantage of such a dangerous state of 
 things." 
 
 '* No, no, there's nothing of the sort there, I truly 
 believe. I am glad you like the family, for I am 
 anxious they should be comfortable here ; and, in a 
 place like this, the comfort of persons so entirely un- 
 accustomed to the habits of a country life must 
 depend in great measure on their neighbours." 
 
 " I will do my best to make the country pleasant 
 to them," said Mr. Eay, " but I am a very rough 
 fellow, and I fear these young ladies, who have been 
 used to better society, will hardly tolerate my un- 
 polished manners." 
 
 " I dare say they have sense enough to value a 
 diamond in the rough," replied Mr. Ingleby, " even 
 if it v/ere so ; but Nature can polish as well as art, 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 111. 
 
 and though her work may be less showy, it is of 
 more intrinsic worth." 
 
 Mr. Ray^was highly gratified by this compliment, 
 which he sincerely believed to be beyond his merits ; 
 and, in so believing, gave one of the best proofs he 
 
 could give that it was not so. 
 
115 THE BKOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Undaunted by the repulse he had met with, Captain 
 Romer continued his visits to Belgrave Square, and 
 dined nearly every day with Major Gilmour, whose 
 countenance and support emboldened him to force 
 his attentions upon Florence to a most annoying ex- 
 tent ; yet she could not altogether avoid treating him 
 with that courtesy which was due to every one of her 
 father's guests, however disagreeable they might he 
 to herself. He had not ventured to say another 
 word on the subject of his suit, so that she had no 
 opportunity of repeating her protestation against it ; 
 but his whole manner was so offensively confident 
 that it was quite obvious he considered the major's 
 word a sufficient guarantee for the completion of his 
 wishes. Florence was very much provoked, for she 
 saw that she was treated as a mere cipher in the 
 affair both by her father and her lover, that her cold- 
 ness was considered of no importance, and that they 
 were acting just as if her consent had been obtained. 
 She almost wished that her father Avould say some- 
 thing to her on the subject, but he did not, and she 
 was unwilling to begin it herself, knowing tliat it 
 must inevitably lead to serious disagreement. 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 113 
 
 Thus several weeks passed away, when Major Gil- 
 moiir was obHged to go to Vienna, a journey he had 
 for some time expected he should have to make, as the 
 business that called him there could not be settled 
 without his actual presence. 
 
 Florence was extremely anxious to take this oppor- 
 tunity of paying a visit to the Bassets, and as she was 
 really ill from nervous irritation, and her medical 
 adviser had recommended change of air, she men- 
 tioned to her father that she should like to spend the 
 
 ■|me of liis absence in Hampshire ; and, to her great 
 
 Surprise as well as pleasure, he made very little ob- 
 jection. The truth was, he thought it would be 
 wiser to leav6 her in a secluded country village, where 
 she would see nobody, than at home, where she would 
 have the opportunity of receiving invitations, and 
 going, without him to keep a watch over her, into 
 society, that might be dangerous to his views. 
 
 n These considerations induced him to give permis- 
 sion for the proposed visit ; but it was given ungra- 
 ciously enough ; for, never losing siglit of his own 
 dignity, he contrived to impart an air of patronage to 
 his daughter's projected sojourn at the house of Mr. 
 Basset, by affecting to consider it a matter of ' board 
 and lodging' that was to be paid for, thus giving 
 it the appearance of an obligation conferred instead 
 
 Iftf received. 
 
 IB This view of the case was rather embarrassing to 
 Tlorence, who had not contemplated any difficulty of 
 
 iiat kind till she was startled by the following ques- 
 on,— 
 " Have you made an}^ arrangement as to terms?" 
 " Terms, sir ! " she echoed, with evident astonish- 
 lent. 
 " Yes, certainly — you do not suppose I should 
 allow you to live for three or four weeks at the 
 expense of people who can so ill afford it, do 
 you ?" 
 
 8 
 
i\i THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 " I really have not thought about it, sii' ; and I am 
 afraid they would be very much hurt at such a pro- 
 position." 
 
 " For what reason?" asked the major, elevating his 
 eyebrows with a look expressive of wonder and con- 
 tempt — " I really do not comprehend " and he 
 
 seemed to wait, as if expecting some explanation • 
 but Florence made no reply, for she knew veiy well 
 that, as he did not choose to comprehend, it would be 
 utterly useless to argue the point, and might, proba- 
 bly, have the effect of causing him to withdraw his 
 consent; therefore, she adopted the wiser course of 
 saying nothing, except, that if he wished it, no doubt 
 such an arrangement might be made. 
 
 '' Of course T wish it— I am really surprised you 
 should for a moment entertain any other idea ; and, 
 remember, it is my particular desire the payment 
 should be sufficiently liberal to do away with any ap- 
 pearance of obligation on my part." 
 
 *' I am quite sure " Florence began ; but what- 
 ever she was about to affirm, her father put a stop to 
 it by saying in his cold, sententious manner, — 
 
 " We will avoid discussion, if you please. Miss 
 Gilmour. It would be unfitting for either you or me 
 to be indebted to persons so circumstanced ; and I 
 expect that, if you think proper to indulge in"' any 
 romantic notions respecting equality, and all that sort 
 of thing, you will take care not to compromise me, 
 however you may lose sight of your own position hi 
 society." 
 
 *' Oh ! this eternal harping upon position," Florence 
 said to herself with a sigh; *' who would not rather be 
 the meanest peasant breathing, than have any preten- 
 sions to rank or consequence if they are to banish all 
 sympathy and friendly feeling ! " 
 
 She refrained, however, from giving 'utterance to 
 these thoughts, and soon retired to write a letter to 
 Claudia, a task she could not easily accomplish to hejL 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 115 
 
 satisfaction under the imposed restrictions ; and the 
 difficulty was how to treat the subject so as to make it 
 as Uttle mortifying as possible. 
 
 " Surely," she said, " there might have been some 
 
 better means suggested of making ample return, than 
 
 this indelicate mode of paying for bread and meat ; I 
 
 cannot bear to think of it. — What am I to say? — How 
 
 can I propose it to them?" At length after much 
 
 anxious deliberation, she concluded that the best way 
 
 ould be to state without reserve the conditions on 
 
 which her father had consented that she should pay 
 
 ■his visit, and to beg they would not refuse to receive 
 
 Ker on account of his peculiarities, for which she was 
 
 iHq no way answerable. 
 
 H " I trust, dear Claudia," she said, " you will let him 
 IRave his way, and that no scruples on your part will 
 deprive me of the pleasure I have so long looked for- 
 ard to, for I do not know how I should be able to 
 ear the disappointment." 
 In her reply Claudia wrote, " I wish, dearest Florence, 
 is could have been otherwise, for mv father is much 
 urt, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to agree 
 .0 this strange proposal; but the happiness of having 
 ou with us is far too great to be sacrificed to what 
 ay, after all, be only false pride; therefore let it be 
 0, and we shall look for yoiu' arrival with im- 
 atience." 
 
 Three days after the receipt of this letter, Florence 
 
 rrived at the Bridge House, attended by Major Gil- 
 
 Liour's coachman, who was to sleep at Basingstoke, 
 
 'and return to town on the next morning. As the 
 
 time of her coming was uncertain, Claudia was 
 
 lout walking with Mr. Basset, but Emily was at 
 
 [home, and the moment the chaise drove up to tho 
 
 [gate, she flew in a transport of joy to welcome her 
 
 'beloved friend, who returned her affectionate embrace 
 
 with equal warmth. 
 
 " Oh, Florence ! I am so delighted to see you ! " 
 " And I am quite as much pleased to see you, dear 
 
116 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 Emmy — ^AYhat a sweet place this is ! But where is 
 Claudia, and how is your papa ? You did not expect 
 me so soon, I dare say." 
 
 " Not for these two hours ; but it is all the better^ — 
 Claudia and papa are out ; they are only gone into 
 tlie village, and will not be long — but there is some- 
 body here you will be surprised to see ; so come in, 
 and let me have the satisfaction of being the first to 
 introduce you." 
 
 Florence had no time to form any conjecture as to 
 who it might be that was to occasion a surprise, for 
 she had already reached tlie parlour-door which Emily 
 threw open as she finished speaking, when her com- 
 panion beheld with mispeakable astonishment, and 
 not without pleasurable emotion, the young curate of 
 Bleachley, who was now introduced to her by the 
 delighted Emily as her brother, Norman Basset. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 
 
 117 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 'hom his early boyhood Norman Basset had cvmced 
 decided incHnation for the sacred profession of 
 irhich he was now a member ; and it was at his own 
 imest desire he had been educated for the church, 
 laving been sent with that view, first to Eton and 
 len to Oxford, where he had gone through the usual 
 mrse with great credit, and taken his first degree 
 nth high honours. 
 As soon as he was qualified to act as a minister 
 the gospel, he accepted a temporary appointment 
 a small curacy in Nottinghamshire, as it was his 
 ither s intention, when he had taken full orders, to 
 |ut him into a good living, and Mr. Basset was 
 Jtually negotiating for the purchase of a benefice 
 ^orth from six to seven hundred a year, when the 
 koceedings were stopped by that fatal calamity, 
 rhich, in ruining his own fortunes, mvolved those of 
 iis son also. 
 
 Norman was eminently qualified for the path he 
 had chosen. Eeligious both in principle and feeling, 
 he was prepared to fulfil the duties of his vocation in 
 the true spirit of Christianity; yet he was by no 
 
118 JHE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 means insensible to worldly advantages, and felt 
 happy in contemplating the bright prospect before 
 him,^ until it was so suddenly and cruelly over- 
 cast. 
 
 On the day he met with Florence Gilmour at Mrs. 
 Allen's cottage, he had not yet received intelligence 
 of the accident that had reduced his family to poverty. 
 His visions of the future were still unclouded,' and' 
 their brilliancy Avas heightened by the transient 
 view with which chance had favoured him of the 
 beautiful girl, who had appeared to his charmed eyes 
 in the attractive form of a ministering angel. On 
 that occasion he had not heard her name ; but, on the 
 following day, to his infinite surprise and pleasure he 
 learned from Dr. Lawford that she was his own near 
 relative, and the most intimate friend of his sisters, 
 who had often mentioned her in their letters to him 
 in such high terms that, until he saw her, he believed 
 the picture to be overdrawn • but now his own ima- 
 gination gave it a still deeper colouring. For two 
 days the face, the form, the voice of Florence Gil- 
 mour were constantly present to his mind, and he 
 looked forward impatiently to the time which was now 
 drawing near, when he was to resign his present en- 
 gagement to the son of the vicar, who had just left 
 college, and join his family in London, A crowd of 
 blissful thoughts mingled with the anticipation of his 
 approaching visit to the great Metropolis, where he 
 had not been for three years ; but the bright dream 
 was short-lived as most bright dreams, alas ! are 
 destined to be, for scarcely had it taken possession of 
 his fancy when the letter came that told the fatal 
 news of the fire, with all its disastrous consequences, 
 and poor Norman found himself suddenly hurled 
 from the height on which he had stood, and left with 
 nothing better to look forward to than a life of poverty 
 and labour. The blow was severe, yet he gave only 
 a passing thought to his own hopes thus scattered t^ 
 the winds; it was for his fathei', his mother, hi' 
 
THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 119 
 
 IiBisters, that he grieved ; and for his brother too, the 
 iunhappy author of the calamity. 
 " Poor Charles ! " he said, " what are my troubles 
 to his ? for I have only to bear the misfortune itself, 
 ■^ whilst he has the additional sorrow of having caused it." 
 IP The letters that Norman wrote to every one of his 
 . I family on this trying occasion were very beautiful. 
 lIpThere was not a single word in allusion to his own 
 disappointed expectations, but every line spoke com- 
 fort in the present hour of affliction, and trustful hope 
 for the future. To Charles he wrote, — 
 1^ ^' Do not blame yourself too severely, dear Charles ; 
 "for how do we know, but that this seeming misfortune 
 may have been ordained for some wise purpose, only 
 
 K known to the Great Ruler of all human events ? We 
 cannot see into futurity, and. it maybe that what we 
 lament as an evil, is only a link in the chain of cirr 
 cumstances that is leading to some good end." 
 
 tit must not, however, be supposed that Norman 
 as indifferent to the altered state of his affairs, for 
 Axidifference is one thing, resignation is another; the 
 latter being the effect of true religion on a well-regu- 
 lated mind, the former of that apathy which is alike 
 reckless of misfortune, and unthankful for benefits. 
 The young curate became graver, and more thought- 
 ful than before ; he mixed less in society, and devoted 
 all his leisure time to writing and studying works of 
 
 I divinity. The intelligence of his mother's death, of 
 his brother's disappearance, and all the subsequent 
 events that took place, were communicated to him by 
 Claudia, who was his principal correspondent, and 
 frequently, in her letters, made mention of Florence 
 Gilmour; but Norman, in his replies, never once 
 spoke of his accidental meeting witli Florence, who 
 consequently remained in ignorance of the fact that 
 he and the curate she had seen at Bleachley were one 
 and the same person. Sometimes, weai^ied with 
 study, the youthful divine found himself meditating 
 on what he might have been if fate had not so cruelly 
 
120 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 interposed a bamer between him and the dream of 
 happiness in which he had for a moment indulged ; 
 but he always endeavoured to shake off such thoughts, 
 as being at variance with his own principles and pre- 
 cepts. 
 
 " Is it for me," he said, " to teach submission to 
 the will of Providence, yet presume to repine at it 
 myself? The weight of this burden has not fallen 
 so heavily on me as it has on those whose happiness 
 ought to be dearer to me than my own, and I will at 
 least bear my part cheerfully." 
 
 It was soon after the Bassets were settled at tho 
 Bridge House that Norman had to give up his curacy, 
 and he arrived in London about the same time that 
 Mr. Ingleby returned from Hampshire. He would 
 gladly have retained the situation he had held even 
 for the small stipend of seventy pounds a year ; but 
 that was out of the question, for the rector's son had 
 already come home, and was waiting impatiently for 
 the vacancy. He therefore came to town, and having 
 business that might detain hirn for two or three weeks, 
 he engaged a single room in a small street at Camden 
 Town, where, for a consideration of twelve shillings 
 per week, he was to be accommodated with bed and 
 breakfast. It must be confessed that neither bed nor 
 board were of first-rate quality, but he had been so 
 liberal in distributing parting tokens of kindness 
 amongst the poor people of the village where he had 
 officiated, that his purse was much lighter to carry 
 than it would have been, had his heart been of sterner 
 mould ; he was therefore obliged to conline his ex- 
 penses within very narrow bounds, and he did not 
 give himself much concern about the hardness of his 
 mattress or the coarseness of his sheets, as they were 
 tolerably clean, and his landlady not very uncivil, 
 although she gave a shrewd guess that his circum- 
 stances were not in a flourishing condition. 
 
 Norman's object in remaining in town was to try to 
 dispose of the product of his literary labours, consisting 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 121 
 
 chiefly of sermons, written expressly for the benefit 
 f rustic congregations. He called on several pub- 
 lishers without success, but at length he met with 
 one who consented to look over the manuscripts, and 
 when Norman went to him a few days afterwards, he 
 not only agreed to purchase those, but engaged to 
 take a certain number of similar discourses within a 
 iven time ; and, although the price offered was small, 
 was a great relief to the author to know that, in 
 aiting for other occupation, he should be making 
 mough money at least to cover all the expenses of 
 is maintenance as long as he remained at home. 
 This business being settled to his satisfaction, he was 
 proceeding through the Regent's Park to his lodging 
 to pack up his things, so that he might be ready to 
 start for Hampshire early on the following morning ; 
 but, in small matters as well as great ones, our move- 
 ments are guided more by chance than by our own 
 will, and in this case chance decreed that Norman 
 Basset should neither see his lodging at Camden 
 Town on that day, nor his father's house in Hamp- 
 shire on the morrow. 
 
 He was crossing the road by the York Gate when 
 gentleman on horseback passed him at rather a 
 
 t sharp canter, and at the same moment a little boy, 
 mding on the edge of the pathway, in play opened 
 umbrella so suddenly that it frightened the horse, 
 which reared back, and threw Norman with violence 
 to the ground. The rider had some trouble to quiet 
 the animal, but, with tlie assistance of two or three 
 
 «iersons who were going by at the time, he at length 
 ucceeded so far as to be able to dismount in safety, 
 and leaving the horse to the care of the men who 
 had assembled round him, he busied himself in at- 
 tending to the injured pedestrian who was lying quite 
 insensible in the road. 
 
 ''Will some one fetch a cab instantly," said the 
 gentleman — and a boy ran off for that purpose: then 
 turning to one of the bystanders who had proffered 
 
 III 
 
l^^ THR BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 his services, he said, giving his card, — " This is my 
 address ; and if you will have the goodness to see 
 this poor young gentleman put into the cab and 
 brought to my house, I will go for a surgeon, for no 
 time must be lost." 
 
 The stranger promised to bring the sufferer him- 
 self, on which the equestrian, who was no other than 
 Mr. Ingleby, remounted his horse, and rode off in 
 search of a medical man, and in less than twenty 
 minutes, Norman was stretched on the couch in his 
 dining-room with a surgeon by his side administering 
 such remedies as were likely to restore him to con- 
 sciousness, while Mr. Ingleby anxiously watched for 
 some indication of returning life. In a few minutes 
 the patient opened his eyes and gazed around him 
 with the bewildered air of one who finds himself in a 
 strange place without knowing how he came there. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he inquired in a faint voice, 
 endeavouring to raise his head ; " what has happened 
 tome?" 
 
 "Nothing that need alarm you," replied Mr, In- 
 gleby ; " keep yourself quiet, and you will do very 
 well." 
 
 ** Ah ! I remember now — the horse— — ■" 
 
 " Yes, it was my unlucky horse that knocked you 
 down; so we must see presently what mischief he 
 has done, and take care of you till it is repaired— 
 tJiat's all." 
 
 Norman was about to reply, but the surgeon inter- 
 fered, and told him he must not speak another word, 
 until he had examined his arm, which seemed to be in 
 great pain. 
 
 " Here, Mrs. Wliat's-your-name," he said to the 
 housekeeper, who was standing at the foot of the 
 couch, " give me a penknife, or a sharp pair of 
 scissors, will 3^ou. We must rip up the coat sleeve ; 
 there's a fracture, I'm afraid." 
 
 The sleeve was soon opened, and the coat bein^ 
 taken off, it was discovered the left arm was brokei 
 
THE BHOTHERS BASSET. 123 
 
 ■ 
 
 Hust below the elbow. The surgeon, who proved to 
 H}e a very skilful operator, set the bone without giving 
 much pain, adjusted the bandages, and assisted 
 in getting his patient up stairs, and into the bed that 
 had been made ready for him. He then administered 
 a composing draught, recommended that he should 
 be kept veiy quiet, and promised to call again in the 
 vening to see how he was going on. 
 *' I hope this is not a serious case, doctor," said 
 r. Ingleby, as they walked down stairs together. 
 " Oh, no, not at all; nothing but a simple fracture, 
 et him keep in bed for two or three days, and it will 
 e all right enough. A good-looking young fellow — 
 o you know who he is ?" 
 " I have not the smallest idea; but I ought to find 
 out as soon as possible, that I may let his friends 
 fcinow of this accident." 
 
 IK' " Here is something," said the surgeon, taking up 
 Ha card-case which was lying on the stairs, " tliat will 
 probably give us some information." 
 
 tMr. Ingleby drew out a card, and, to his infinite 
 urprise, read the words, " Mr. Norman Basset." 
 " Bless my soul ! " he exclaimed, " who could pos- 
 ibly have ' guessed this? Why, doctor, this young 
 gentleman is the son of a particular friend of mine." 
 
 I" Indeed ! Well, that is singular. You will send 
 to his father directly, of course." 
 " I shall write to him immediately ; but he lives in 
 Hampshire ; so the young man must stay with 
 me till he is quite well again, and I shall be obliged 
 _if you will give him all the attention in your power." 
 ■ The surgeon repeated his assurances that there was 
 ■nothing to be alarmed about, and when he was gone, 
 ■Mr. Ingleby sat down to ruminate on the strange 
 ■adventm'e that had brought Norman Basset so unex- 
 pectedly under his roof. From Norman, his thoughts 
 naturally passed to the father and sisters, and, as he 
 mused, a smile from time to time lighted up his 
 countenance, as if some idea unusually pleasant had 
 
124 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 crossed his mind ; and this fit of thinking continued 
 till it was interrupted by Mrs. Garnet, who came 
 to tell him the invalid was fast asleep. He started 
 from the reverie into which he had unconsciously 
 fallen, and having dismissed the housekeeper with 
 some general directions respecting his guest, he shook 
 his head, and said, mentally, " I'm afraid I m an old 
 fool after all." 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 125 
 
 Cl€ 
 
 We: 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It was nearly three weeks before Norman was suffi- 
 ciently recorered to travel, and during that time he 
 d his kind host had many long and interesting con- 
 versations respecting his own affairs and those of his 
 family. Mr. Ingleby had been considering that it 
 would be better for Norman, as far as his worldly 
 interest was concerned, to give up the church altoge- 
 ther as a profession, and enter upon some new career, 
 where he would have the opportunity of advancing 
 his fortune by his talents and industiy, which, as re- 
 arded his present calling, would avail him nothing 
 without patronage or money — the only passports to 
 church preferment. 
 
 There were other honourable paths open to him, 
 Mr. Ingleby said, where these elements were not 
 wanting; and, in fact, it had occurred to that gentle- 
 man, that as he had neither son nor partner, his own 
 office would be no bad place for any young man in 
 hose welfare he felt interested. Norman listened to 
 is arguments with attention, and heard his proposal 
 with gratitude ; but, in reply to it, said, that he had 
 made his election from principle, not from motives of 
 ambition, and preferred tlie path he had chosen 
 to any other. 
 
126 THE BROTHEBS BASSET. 
 
 " I should be but an unworthy disciple of oui* 
 Great Master," he said, with a smile, " if I were to 
 forsake his service because it afforded but little pros- 
 pect of such worldly advantages as He never enjoyed. 
 Not that I affect to despise the good things of this 
 life, Mr. Ingleby, nor do I pretend to say that I feel 
 no regret at the changes that have taken place ; but 
 they would hardly justify me in throwing off the 
 sacred duties I have solemnly taken upon myself. I 
 have accepted a mission, which conscience tells me I 
 am bound to perform under any circumstances, and 
 I will perform it to the best of my ability." 
 
 " You are right, my young friend, and I honour 
 your sentiments. They are worthy of your calling, 
 and I heartily wish I had any influence where it 
 might be of advantage to you, for it is a great pity 
 you should have nothing better in prospect than the 
 curacy of a country village." 
 
 " To confess the truth," replied Norman, *' I fear I 
 have enough of human weakness and human pride, 
 to prefer a vicarage to a curacy." 
 
 "And a bishopric, perhaps, to either?" said Mr. 
 Ingleby, laughing. 
 
 " I cannot deny it, sir. I believe it is a very good 
 thing to be a bishop ; but as the higher walks are 
 now barred against me, I will pursue the more humble 
 course that is left open as cheerfully as I can ; and, 
 for anything I know, it may be the happier course 
 after alL" 
 
 " I see you are a true philosopher, and it is wrong 
 perhaps to desire to change your purpose, therefore I 
 shall say nothing more about it. We must hope that 
 time and opportunity may throw something better in 
 your way than the present aspect of affairs seems 
 to promise." 
 
 Norman had advertised in all the leading journals, 
 and he had also written to the master of his college 
 at Oxford, hoping through his interest to obtain the 
 presentation to some small hving. From that gentle- 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 127 
 
 man he had received a kmd, but not very encouraging 
 
 fnswer, so that his prospect at this moment was any- 
 hiing but cheering ; yet his spirit was not cast down, 
 )r he possessed, in an eminent degree, that happy 
 apacity for looking on the bright side of every pic- 
 ture, which takes from life half its bitterness, and 
 hat firm reliance on a RuUng Power, which teaches 
 
 en to bear with fortitude their present ills, and look 
 rward with hope to the days to come. At length he 
 as pronounced convalescent, and took his'departure 
 cm London, accompanied by Mr. Ingleby, who 
 ould not hear of his making the journey alone, and 
 as, perhaps, not sorry to have an excuse for so early 
 repetition of his own visit. 
 
 The meeting between Norman and his father was 
 
 ainful, yet consolatory to both. Hitherto they had 
 
 known very little of each other, but they were now 
 
 drawn, as it were, closer together; and as Mr. Basset 
 
 iffectionately embraced his son, he said, — 
 
 " Norman, you must supply the place to me of him 
 
 have lost." 
 
 " Do not doubt it, my father ; and if I cannot 
 e all to yon that he was, believe me I will at least 
 ive you as much comfort as I can, and do my best 
 
 lighten the burden you are called upon to bear." 
 
 The presence of Norman had indeed a very salutary 
 
 ffect on the spirits of his father, whose face was 
 
 t times brightened by a smile, such as it had not 
 
 orn since his misfortunes ; but he spoke very little, 
 
 nd it was often evident that his thoughts were 
 
 andering far away from the scenes around him. 
 
 'r. Ingleby had only stayed one night, but he had 
 
 romised Freshfield Ray that he would go down again 
 
 ^ two or three weeks, and make a longer visit. 
 
 reshfield was now on very familiar terms with the 
 
 nmates of the Bridge House, so much so, that it was 
 
 urrently reported he was about to marry one of the 
 
 oung ladies ; but the world is always better informed 
 
 n these affairs than the parties concerned ; and you 
 
128 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 may be quite sure, especially if you live in a country 
 town or village, that your neighbours will know you 
 are going to be married long before you are aware of 
 it yourself. It is quite certain that Mr. Eay had 
 never said a syllable with a view to any such event to 
 either of tlie ladies in question ; nevertlieless he 
 appeared to take great pleasure in spending full half 
 of his time in their company, and they found him so 
 extremely agreeable, tliat he was always a welcome 
 visitor. 
 
 One morning, just after breakfast, as Norman was 
 about to betake himself to a little room he called 
 his workshop, where he spent his mornings in writing, 
 Freshfield came in with a letter in his hand, and 
 holding it up far above the reach of any one j^resent, 
 he cried out in a loud voice, — 
 
 " Who bids highest for this pretty thing?" 
 
 " Who is it for?" said Claudia. 
 
 " Ah ! that's the question. Now, Miss Emily, what 
 are you disposed to offer?" 
 
 " Nothing at all, Mr. Eay ; for I am sure it is not 
 for me." 
 
 " How do you know tliat ? " 
 
 " At any rate, sir, I shall make no offer till I ascer- 
 tain the fact, which I cannot possibly do so long 
 as you keep the letter up there in the clouds ; so pray 
 bring it down to earth, that we may see who it really 
 does belong to." 
 
 "Is it for me, Eay?" Norman asked, rather 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No, indeed, Mr. Norman, it is not ; and I shall 
 keep it up here to give Miss Emily an oj^portunity of 
 building castles in the air." 
 
 " A style of architecture I have not the least fancy 
 for," said Emily. 
 
 " Have you not ? Then I may as well give up my 
 despatches to the proper authority; " and he presented 
 the letter to Claudia, who exclaimed, in a tone of 
 pleasurable surprise, — 
 
K^ THE BROTHERS BASSET. 129 
 
 H " From Florence Gilmour ! " 
 
 ^ Norman's face was instantly suffused with a deep 
 crimson, but as no one happened to be looking that 
 way at the moment, it passed unnoticed, and he was 
 thus saved from some embarrassment, for, as he had 
 
 iever mentioned his accidental meeting with Florence 
 t Bleachley, his sisters were not aware he had ever 
 een her. Claudia opened the letter, and having read 
 few lines said, — 
 " This is indeed a pleasure — Florence is coming to 
 stay with us next week." 
 
 " Oh ! how glad I am," said Emily ; " what does she 
 
 n. 
 
 ay?" 
 
 ■K " You shall see the letter when I have finished it. 
 '^lajor Gilmour is going to Vienna, and she will stay 
 .^vith us while he is away." 
 K " Gilmour ! " repeated Mr. Kay. "Is not that the 
 
 young lady Mr. Ingleby thinks so beautiful ? " 
 
 1^ " Yes, and so she is," replied Emily ; " and just the 
 
 sort of girl you will like, Norman," she added, tuni- 
 
 g towards the place where her brother had been 
 
 tting. " Why, I declare he is gone I I wonder 
 
 e should not feel a little more interested than 
 
 at." 
 
 " How can you expect him to feel interested about 
 lady he never saw in his life, my dear?" said Mr. 
 asset. 
 
 " Because it is so natm^al, papa. Who would be- 
 eve he could hear that there was a beautiful young 
 ,dy actually coming to be in the same house with 
 im for two or three weeks, yet walk away to his 
 ooks as unconcerned as if he had been told there 
 as a kitten or canary-bird expected. Mr. Eay is ten 
 mes as much* excited I see." 
 
 "True, Miss Emily; I plead guilty to tlie charge, 
 but you must recollect that it is your brother's busi- 
 ness to reprove me for my faults and follies, and not 
 to fall into the like himself." 
 
 " If he attends to his business properly, then, he 
 
 9 
 
130 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 will not have much leisure time," said Emily, laugh- 
 ing ; " but I am afraid he would only be scattering 
 seed to the winds." 
 
 "And I am afraid that is the way such seed is very 
 often wasted," replied Freshfield ; " he had better give 
 up preaching and turn his mind to farming." 
 
 "Why so, Mr. Eay?" asked Claudia, looking up 
 from her letter. 
 
 " Because it is the pleasanter life of the two, Miss 
 Basset. Nay, pray don't look so serious ; I meant 
 no disrespect to the clergy, I assure you." 
 
 " I hope not," said Claudia, gravely. 
 
 " It sounded marvellously like it though," said 
 Emily; "and now I think of it, Mr. Freshfield, I do 
 believe you are rather deficient in that particular ; for 
 I remember, last Sunday, I saw you look, I don't 
 know how many times, at that very pretty girl in Lady 
 Thornton's pew." 
 
 "And which way might you be looking. Miss 
 Emily, to see it?" said the young farmer with a sly 
 smile. 
 
 This repartee made both Claudia and her father 
 laugh, on which Emily ran out of the room, declaring 
 she could not keep the field against three enemies at 
 once. 
 
 For a full hour after the unexpected intelligence he 
 had received, Norman sat at his writing-table with a 
 pen in his hand, and a half-finished manuscript 
 spread open before him, but not a single line was 
 added to the work, nor were the meditations of the 
 author such as were likely to bring it to a speedy 
 conclusion. At length he roused himself from tliis 
 unprofitable reverie. 
 
 " To what end," he said, "am I making all these 
 reflections ? They will neither alter the past, nor 
 influence the future — I must not lose sight of the facts 
 that Miss Gilmour is a rich heiress, and that I am 
 but a poor curate. It is, perhaps, very fortunate for 
 me, that I have had a glimpse of the danger, since 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 131 
 
 shall be all the better prepared to guard against it." 
 And with this sage reflection, he set about finishing 
 his sermon. 
 
 It was not till the morning of the day Florence 
 was expected, that he summoned resolution to say 
 that she was not quite a stranger to him ; and then 
 he managed to do it in that off-hand manner in 
 which people generally speak of anything they do 
 not wish you to suppose has made any particular im- 
 pression upon them. It was at the breakfast-table 
 when the conversation naturally turned upon the 
 subject of her anticipated arrival. 
 B "Oh! by the way," he said, in a careless tone, " I 
 "hink I forgot to tell you I saw Miss Gilmour in 
 Nottinghamshire." 
 
 "You did?" said Emily; "and never mentioned 
 . jt — how very strange ! " 
 
 Vm " It was only for a few minutes, and then I did 
 not know who she was, or I should have introduced 
 " yself." 
 
 " And how did you find out who she w^as ? " 
 " I was told afterwards." 
 
 "Where did you see her, Norman?" Claudia asked. 
 " She was at Bleachley Church one morning when 
 did duty for the Eector who was ill ; and I saw 
 er again at a cottage in the village, but only for a 
 inute or two, and we did not exchange half-a-dozen 
 ords." 
 
 " But what did you think of her?' 
 " How could I form any sort of opinion,^ Emily, 
 pon so slight an acquaintance?" 
 " You can tell whether you thought her pretty." 
 ^m " Oh, yes — pretty, certainly — or handsome, 1 should 
 ■jather say." 
 
 ■I " I wonder if she will remember you." 
 ^ " I dare say not," answered Norman, rising from 
 the table. 
 
 But Emily thought it most probable she would, 
 and that was the reason she said to Florence on her 
 
132 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 arrival, " There is somebody here you will be sur- 
 prised to see." Nor was she disappointed, for it was 
 a great surprise, and evidently an agreeable one ; and 
 if Norman had been unprepared for the meeting he 
 would probably have betrayed more of his feelings 
 than he desired to make known. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ORMAN had prescribed to himself severe rules for his 
 onduct towards Florence Gilmour, while be should 
 be exposed to the dangerous influence of her presence, 
 for he felt that to indulge even in such famiUarity as 
 their relationship might fully have justified, would 
 only be to lay up for himself a store of hopeless 
 mesires and unavailing regrets. His behaviour was 
 respectful, friendly, and polite, but nothing more. 
 
 MIe scarcely trusted himself to utter even the most 
 pmmon-place compliment, and preserved outwardly 
 calm a demeanour, that no one could have sus- 
 pected the painful struggle that was going on within ; 
 yet, in spite of all his reasoning, all his efforts 
 to maintain the mastery over himself, he found that 
 his heart had received a deeper impression than 
 he had been aware of, and that every hour passed in 
 the society of one so eminently qualified to inspire 
 ■ipve and admiration, served only to increase his 
 "assion, and render it more difficult of concealment. 
 Firm, however, to the resolution he had made, he 
 shut himself up more closely than before amongst 
 his books and papers, alleging as an excuse for this 
 apparent neglect, that it was necessary he should get 
 
134 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 forward with the task he had undertaken, while 
 he was yet free from other engagements, which he 
 hoped would not long be the case ; and as this seemed 
 reasonable enough, it passed for truth. Still Florence 
 could not help feeling something very like disap- 
 pointment at the coldness of his manner towards 
 her ; so different from what she might liave expected 
 from the impassioned looks and tones that had often 
 been recalled to her memory since their interview at 
 Bleachley, and had sometimes, it must be confessed, 
 given rise to certain dreamy speculations as to what 
 might be the consequences should she ever chance 
 to meet with him on more familiar terms. However, 
 she did not sutler the slightest signs of such thoughts 
 and feelings to appear, and even tried to convince 
 herself that she had no more regard for Norman 
 Basset than it was natural and proper to have for her 
 mother's cousin ; forgetting that she had never felt it 
 necessaiy to reason in a similar --vay with respect to 
 Charles, who stood in exactly the same degree of 
 relationship. 
 
 Emily thought she observed something peculiar in 
 the manners of both that did not w^ear quite the 
 stamp of indifference, but she was discreet enough to 
 say nothing about it. She had lately, for reasons 
 best known to herself, exhibited an ardent desire to 
 become an expert housekeeper, and had, in a wonder- 
 fully short space of time, attained to a greater degi'ee 
 of proficiency in that laudable branch of art than 
 might have been expected from her previous inexpe- 
 rience; but whether it was that Freshfield Eay de- 
 clared the cakes she made were the best he ever 
 tasted in his life, praised the industry that manufac- 
 tured chair-covers or curtains, and admired the taste 
 that decorated the very plainly-furnished apartments 
 wntli many little ornamental works, it would be 
 difficult to say ; although it may fairly be surmised 
 that such praises might have their influence. 
 
 A few days after the ai rival of Florence Gilmoui', 
 
 I 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 135 
 
 mily had just placed on the table a wire-basket, the 
 work of her own hands, filled with moss and fresh 
 flowers, when Mr. Kay came into the room. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, taking it up in his hand, " I have 
 10 one to make such pretty things for me," 
 
 " And if you had," she replied, laughing, *' I do 
 
 ot think you would value them in the least; for 
 
 I verily believe you would rather any one would make 
 
 (r'ou a canvas-bag for your seeds, than the most 
 beautiful flower-basket in the world." 
 "Indeed, you do me great injustice, Miss Emily. 
 [ cannot pretend to much refinement, I know, but I 
 im not so utterly devoid of taste as you seem to 
 n 
 
 1*^ 
 
 miagnie." 
 
 It. 
 
 "Nay, I am quite willing to give you credit for any 
 mount of taste you think proper to claim ; and, 
 .apropos of that, what do you think of Florence?" 
 n "I think she is an angel!" he answered, with 
 jpio much animation, that Emily looked at him with 
 unfeigned surprise ; when, blushing at his own 
 jp^armth, he added, rather confusedly, " You must 
 ^Uow she is very good-looking." 
 
 n" Bless me ! Mr. Eay, I never thought of denying 
 ., I am sure ; but it is rather a falling off from your 
 rst observation, to descend to such a very tame com- 
 iliment. I should think, sir, an angel might have 
 retensions to be called something beyond good- 
 )oking." 
 " I ought to have said beautiful — -is that it?" 
 " Certainly, if you think so." 
 
 " No, I do not think Miss Gilmour beautiful, but I 
 think her very charming." 
 
 Emily made no reply, but occupied herself in 
 arranging her flov/ers, and her fiither coming in at the 
 moment, nothing more was said on the subject. The 
 everyday life at Bridge House offered but little 
 variety, yet Florence found herself very happy there, 
 much happier, indeed, than at her own luxurious 
 home. 
 
]36 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 " How little," she one day said to Claudia, " how 
 very little the style of one's living has to do with real 
 happiness ! I could be very well contented to spend 
 my whole life here, Claudia, provided I might always 
 choose my companions." 
 
 " I believe, indeed, Florence, that the style in which 
 people live has but little to do, in reality, with their 
 happiness ; but there is more in it than that — we are 
 estimated by the appearance we make in the world, 
 and treated accordingly." 
 
 " You mean to say that, if we cannot live in a 
 certain style, we may possibly be slighted by people 
 we care nothing at all about? Now that would 
 never cause me the slightest uneasiness or re- 
 gret." 
 
 *' You have never been tried, dear, and I sincerely 
 hope you never will." 
 
 " And in your own trial, Claudia, what is it you 
 have lost that is worth lamenting ? " 
 
 " Nothing personal to myself. I could be quite 
 happy in the life I lead here as far as I alone am 
 concerned, for a woman may always find her happi- 
 ness in trifles and in seclusion ; but it is not so with 
 a man ; and when I see my father broken down as 
 he is with care, and think of my brothers, the one 
 lost to us perhaps for ever, and the other with a hard 
 life of poverty before him, do you wonder tliat I 
 should sometimes feel melancholy?" 
 
 " No, I do not. But these evils do not all arise 
 from loss of fortune ; for, if Charles were here, your 
 father would not be unhappy; and if he should 
 return, which let us all hope he will, he could take to 
 farming, and that must be a happy life enough, to 
 judge from Mr. Eay." 
 
 " Mr. Eay is not a poor man, Florence." 
 
 " True — but if he were, he would certainly laugh 
 at his own poverty, and we should not like him a bit 
 the less." 
 
 " He would laugh, perhaps, because it is his 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 137 
 
 nature to be gay, and his mode of life has not taught 
 him to set much value on the consideration of the 
 world ; but Norman is different both by nature and 
 education, and notwithstanding all his fortitude, he 
 must feel his altered position very severely, and will 
 
 I feel it more by-and-bye than he does now." 
 " But, do you suppose, Claudia, that your brother, 
 with his high talents, and all his noble qualities, can 
 fail to make his own fortune ?" 
 IK •' I am afraid, dear Florence, there are many high- 
 minded and highly-gifted men of his profession, who 
 are fated to pass their whole lives in poverty and ob- 
 scurity. There is no scarcity of humble merit in th(i 
 I church." 
 " Then I wish I had the ruling of the world for a 
 little while — I fancy I should displace a few of the 
 dignitaries, and set up some of the humble merit in 
 : 
 
 neir room." 
 
 " And where would you place Norman?" 
 *' Oh ! I don't exactly know. Something might 
 depend on his own views and sentiments. Perhaps 
 he would not choose to be beholden to me for his 
 ^elevation." 
 
 ■ The moment these words had escaped her she 
 was sorry she had uttered them, and said, hurriedly, 
 as if to cover the meaning she was conscious they 
 ontained, — 
 " I mean if I were prime minister, you know." 
 Claudia made no answer, but thought witliin her- 
 elf;— V- 
 
 " Dear generous Florence — Norman will never 
 take advantage of your noble spirit, I am veiy sure." 
 On the day after this conversation, Mr. Ingleby 
 ame down to the Hill Farm. He had heard of a 
 vacant curacy at Andover through the brother of the 
 rector, with whom he happened to be acquainted, 
 and having spoken very highly in favour of Norman 
 Basset, his friend had written to his brother, and re- 
 ceived a reply that caused Mr. Ingleby to lose nq 
 
138 THB BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 time in seeing Norman about it, and, perhaps, he was 
 not Sony to have so good a pretext for paying another 
 visit to Bridge House so soon. He would have been 
 a welcome visitor under any circumstances, but was 
 doubly so now, for Norman was growing rather dis- 
 spirited at the non-success of his efforts to obtain 
 some appointment, and was truly rejoiced at the 
 prospect of being settled so near his family. Now 
 Mr. Ingleby had discovered in his conversation with 
 the brother of Mr. Robertson, the incumbent of the 
 new church, as it was still called, although it had 
 been erected nearly forty years, that the said incum- 
 bent was a very worthy kind of man, and was rather 
 fond of doing a service for any one if it did not give 
 him much trouble, that being a thing he was not 
 fond of. In selecting a new curate in place of the 
 last who was lately dead, his great object was to get 
 one able and willing to perform all the heaviest part 
 of the duty, so as to leave as little as possible for the 
 superior to do ; but he was also desirous that his sub- 
 stitute should be a man of unexceptionable character 
 and high talent, partly with a view to tlie welfare of 
 his parishioners, and partly that no dissatisfaction 
 might arise among them on the score of his own in- 
 dolence. Thus far Norman was exactly the man to 
 suit him ; but as there were several applicants, Mr. 
 Ingleby thought it would be wiser to have a personal 
 interview with Mr. Robertson than to trust to the 
 chances of a written correspondence, and he, there- 
 fore, proposed riding over to the rectory himself, an 
 offer Norman gi^atefully accepted. The ride, on 
 horseback, occupied about an hour and a half, and 
 when Mr. Ingleby alighted at the gate of the rector's 
 abode he perceived the reverend gentleman saunter- 
 ing about his garden with his hands behind him, in 
 the full enjoyment of perfect leisure. In appearance 
 he was the very personification of easy good nature, 
 and welcomed his stranger guest as heartily as if he 
 had been an old acquaintance. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 139 
 
 *' So, I suppose you are come about the young 
 
 ellow my brother speaks so highly of," he said. 
 
 ;*' Well, I don't know what to say about it, for there's 
 
 he Earl of Summerton has just written to me in 
 
 ehalf of a relative of his own ; and we like to oblige 
 
 these sort of people if we can ; however, we will go 
 
 in and talk the matter over." 
 
 He led the way into the house, which presented all 
 
 tthe appearance of a domicile wherein the comfort of 
 the inhabitants was especially studied and provided 
 STor. The carpets were soft to tread upon, the chairs 
 looked comfortable, the couches looked comfortable, 
 and the stately old lady who was hemming muslin, 
 with an elegant work-basket before her, looked com- 
 fortable. This lady turned out to be Mrs. Robertson, 
 and although she was full ten years older than her 
 husband, they had journeyed on through life together 
 in the easiest manner possible, the way being as 
 
 I smooth and pleasant as a well-rolled gravelled path 
 running between beds of flowers. They never had 
 any children, and being thus spared most of the 
 troubles and anxieties of married life, they had fallen 
 into a habit of living almost entirely for themselves. 
 . Even their good qualities, of which they had many, 
 were such as contributed to their own enjoyment. 
 They w^ere hospitable because they liked society; 
 they were liberal because they had ample means of 
 Ijbeing so without privation to themselves, and they 
 Ifciked the applause that liberality calls forth ; and they 
 ^ were good-natured, perhaps from the very absence of 
 those cares and vexations that are apt to make people 
 otherwise. 
 
 Mr. Robertson having introduced his guest, and 
 mentioned the business on which he came, said to his 
 lady, — '* Now, my dear, we will have some luncheon 
 j^ if you please, and discuss this affair over a glass of 
 ■Madeira, or of home-brewed if Mr. Ingieby prefers 
 Hit." 
 H The lady folded up her work and rang the bell, a 
 
140 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 signal that appeared to be very well understood by 
 the domestics, as a man-servant appeared in a few 
 minutes and spread a clotli on the table, which was 
 speedily covered with materials for a substantial 
 repast. 
 
 " We never dine till six, Mr. Ingleby," said the 
 lady, *' so we generally make a good luncheon." 
 
 Mr. Ingleby acquiesced in the propriety of this 
 arrangement, but he could not help wishing tlie meal 
 had been a less weighty affair, for it occupied the 
 worthy divine so completely during tlie gi'eater part 
 of an hour, that he seemed unable to fix his thoughts 
 on anything else, and in answer to some question 
 relative to the curacy, he said, "We will talk of that by- 
 and-bye — try a glass of this sherr}^, and let me help you 
 to the other wing of this cliicken." At length he took 
 the napkin from under his chin, wiped his mouth and 
 hands, pushed back his chair, and came to the point 
 at once, thus — " Well — now about this young man — 
 let me hear what you know of him." 
 
 Mr. Ingleby entered into a detailed account of the 
 circumstances in which Norman had been placed by 
 his father's unfortunate failure, and spoke in the 
 warmest terms of his high attainments, his fitness for 
 the duties of his vocation, his excellent disposition 
 and gentlemanlike manners. 
 
 Mr. Eobertson hesitated for awhile, but at length 
 he said that he would see the young gentleman on the 
 following day, and if he found that his opinions and 
 principles were such as he approved of, Avould run the 
 risk of disobliging the Earl of Suramerton (which 
 was, in fact, of no sort of consequence to him), and 
 give the appointment to Mr. Norman Basset, with a 
 salaiy of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. 
 
 Mr. Ingleby rode back in high spirits, delighted 
 with the success of his mission, and about a mile 
 from the farm encountered Norman, who, in his 
 anxiety to know the result, had gone out to meet him. 
 He immediately dismounted, and, as they walked 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 141 
 
 back together, he related all that had passed, giving a 
 
 P somewhat humorous description of the "jolly parson," 
 as he called him ; nor was Norman at all displeased 
 at hearing his future superior so designated. 
 
 I This event was the cause of much rejoicing at Bridge 
 House, but doubly so on this occasion, as every one 
 of the family was as truly grateful to Mr. Tngleby as 
 Norman himself for the very essential benefit he had 
 now rendered. 
 " You always bring happiness with you, Mr. 
 Ingleby," said Claudia, extending her hand to him 
 with a smile of gratitude ; and as he took it between 
 both his, he replied, — 
 m " Do I, Miss Basset ? Perhaps I shall want to take 
 Hit away with me some of these days." 
 H On the following morning Norman rode over to the 
 " parsonage, and had a long interview with Mr. Robert- 
 son, which terminated to tlieir mutual satisfaction ; 
 ■ the worthy rector being extremely pleased with the 
 IJeasy manners and gentlemanly appearance of his new 
 curate, who was no less contented with the kind 
 |»reception he had met with, and the friendliness he 
 saw reason to hope for in their future intercourse 
 with each other. Mrs. Robertson undertook to engage 
 apartments for him in the town, and it was settled 
 ^ that he should take possession of them on the follow- 
 iPing Saturday, that he might be ready to do duty on 
 the Sunday morning. 
 
142 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 It was the last evening that Norman was to spend at 
 Bridge House, and he had faithfully adhered to his 
 resolution of maintaining the same calm unimpas- 
 sioned manner towards Florence that was constiiied 
 by her into coldness and indifference. Not a single 
 word had escaped him that could give her the least 
 insight into tlie true state of his feelings ; but, per- 
 haps, if he had known with what pleasure such a 
 word would have been listened to, he would not liave 
 been able to resist the temptation of speaking it. The 
 day had been remarkably fine, and the sun was set- 
 ting with more than usual splendour. Norman, who 
 particularly delighted in a fine sunset, had walked 
 out to enjoy the brilliant spectacle, and meeting with 
 his sisters and Florence, attended by Mr. Ray, he 
 joined them. It was the first time he had done so 
 since Florence had been there ; it was the first time 
 he had ever offered her his arai, and as she took it he 
 fancied he felt a slight tremor, but it might be only 
 fancy — he would not indulge the thought. Emily 
 and Claudia were walking together, and Freshfield 
 was strolling by their side, when their attention was 
 arrested by an enormous dragon fly of extraordinary 
 beauty, and they stood still for awhile to watch it, 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 143 
 
 with its shining wings reflecting the bright hues of 
 the setting sun. 
 
 tThus Norman and Florence were some way in ad- 
 ance, and a sudden turn of the road taking them out 
 f sight of their companions, it appeared as if they 
 ^ere walking alone. They were only conversing on 
 common-place subjects, yet Norman felt an irresistible 
 mpulse to bend his head down to hers, and press 
 her arm more closely within his own than was abso- 
 
 [■lutely necessary ; and, as she could not help being 
 
 ■gonscious of these movements, her eyes were cast 
 "down and her face was overspread with blushes, so 
 that on the whole, they looked very like a pair of 
 
 [Rovers, and would certainly have been taken for such 
 
 IMby any casual passer-by. At this precise moment, 
 when appearances were so much against them, a 
 horseman came galloping -along the road, and as he 
 drew near, Florence was surprised and annoyed to 
 
 ■■perceive that it was Captain Eomer, nor did she 
 attempt to conceal her vexation at the discovery. The 
 Captain vvtis equally surprised and not less displeased 
 at the sight of her companion, whom he recognised 
 at once as the young curate he had seen in Notting- 
 hamshire. It certainly was him — there was no mis- 
 ake about tliat — yet how could he possibly have con- 
 trived to place himself on such familiar terms with 
 
 IBber in so short a time? 
 
 IB " Confound his impudence ! " was the mental ejacu- 
 lation of the enraged son of Mars, as he leaped from 
 his horse, and approached the young lady with a 
 smile, not a very benignant one, on his lip, and a 
 scowl on his brow. " How do you do, Miss Gilmour? 
 I was going to do myself the pleasure of calling on 
 you with a letter from your father which arrived yes- 
 terday." 
 
 Jfc "I thank you. Captain Ronler — it might have been 
 
 ■Korwarded by post ; however, I am glad to save you 
 
 Bthe trouble of coming any further." 
 
 ■ He bit his lip, and coloured with anger, but said in 
 
 I 
 
144 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 as soft a tone as he could command, as he gave her 
 the letter — " Nevertheless I shall, with your permis- 
 sion, have the happiness of paying you a visit before 
 T return to town — I have seen this gentleman before, 
 I think ; Norman bowed slightly, and Florence said — 
 " My cousin — Mr. Norman Basset." 
 
 The utter astonishment and dismay with which 
 this announcement was received caused a smile on 
 Nonnan's face which did not escape the jealous eyes 
 of his rival, who would have felt great satisfaction in 
 knocking him down, but as there was no ostensible 
 ground for so violent a proceeding he was compelled 
 to restrain the impulse. 
 
 Little more passed, but as he remounted his horse 
 he said, — 
 
 " I am remaining for two or three days at an inn in 
 Basingstoke, and shall ride over to Bridge House 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 He then bowed and rode awav, and at that in- 
 stant the rest of the party came in sight. 
 
 " Miss Gilmour," said Norman, earnestly, " if this 
 visit is very disagreeable to you I will take care to 
 prevent it, if you give me authority so to do." 
 
 " It is disagreeable to me, Mr. Norman; but Cap- 
 tain Komer is well aware that I must receive it, if he 
 chooses to force it upon me." 
 
 " Then, perhaps, it would be improper for me to 
 interfere ; yet that you should be subjected to an in- 
 sult that I could save you from, it is scarcely to be 
 borne!" 
 
 Startled by the passionate vehemence of his tone, 
 Florence raised her eyes suddenly to his face, and it 
 was then a suspicion first darted across her mind that 
 he loved her. 
 
 Fearing he had betrayed too much, Norman made 
 a strong effort to regaiit his usual composure, but he 
 was absent and thoughtful during the remainder of 
 the walk, nor was he able to rally his spirits through- ^ 
 out the whole evening. 
 
m 
 
 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 145 
 
 The major's letter contained nothing very particu- 
 lar, except an intimation that he should probahly be 
 absent about three weeks longer, as he meant to spend 
 some time in Paris on his way back. 
 
 Norman passed a restless night. He had seen 
 something in Florence's manner that justified him in 
 supposing she was not quite indifferent to him, but 
 he felt it would be wrong to endeavour to take the 
 slightest advantage of this supposition, for he was no 
 tranger to the violent measures threatened by Major 
 Gilmour if Florence should marry against his will; 
 nd he also knew in what light his own family was 
 ow considered by that haughty, cold-hearted man. 
 "The temptation is great," he said to himself ; 
 but I must not give way to it ; the tie between pa- 
 ent and child is far too sacred to be trifled with, and 
 will not give her cause to reproach me hereafter. 
 Then why think of her at all ? It is a dream that 
 .■never can be realised, and, as such, the wisest thing I 
 ■can do is to banish it from my mind at once and for 
 fcver." 
 
 " But this is in general more easily said than done. 
 ^It is not always within the limits of our own power 
 to banish a favourite object from our thoughts at a 
 ninute's notice — it will not go ; but, like an obsti- 
 late tenant, continues to hold possession of the pre- 
 lises long after it has received notice to quit. Nor- 
 lan, however, partially succeeded for the time being, 
 )ut then he had to think of the sermons he was 
 ^writing, and of the new congregation that was to sit 
 in judgment upon him on the following Sunday. He 
 had also to speculate upon how he should get on with 
 his new rector ; whether they would agree in opinions, 
 and whether he should like his society. All these 
 were interesting subjects for reflection, and certainly 
 did their part towards banishing that still more inter- 
 esting one which, as far as men are concerned, it is 
 a great mistake to suppose is all-engrossing. God 
 JmoY'S what would become of the world iC it were. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 Norman had not much preparation to make for his 
 departm^e. A couple of portmanteaus, and a box 
 filled with books and papers, constituted nearly the 
 whole of his luggage ; but as this had to be conveyed 
 to his destination, Mr. Eay had offered to drive him 
 over to Andover in his gig, and accordingly about 
 eleven o'clock they set off together. He had parted 
 from Florence without a word, or even a look, indica- 
 tive of more than ordinary feeling ; and she began to 
 doubt whether the emotion he had betrayed on the 
 preceding evening was any more than he would have 
 shown had a similar annoyance been offered to one of 
 his sisters. 
 
 Captain Eomer called as he had said he should, 
 and was much disappointed at having no opportunity 
 of seeing Florence alone, for she had particularly 
 requested that eveiybody would remain in the room 
 while he was there ; and as he could not but perceive 
 she had no intention of granting him a particular 
 audience he very soon took his leave without having 
 made the slightest allusion to the meetin<i^ of the 
 preceding day. He had been treated with the most 
 scrupulous politeness, but no one had invited him 
 either to prolong his visit, or to repeat it, and he was 
 excessively mortified, for he felt that the slight was 
 premeditated, and that he, with ail his advantages of 
 fashionable notoriety and prospective rank and for- 
 tune, was outrivalled by an obscure country curate, 
 the penniless son of a ruined father. 
 
 Burning with resentment and jealousy he resolved 
 to take the most effectual means of ci*nshing the pre- 
 sumptuous hopes, as he imagined, of Norman Basset 
 by writing to Major Gilmour ; therefore, the moment 
 he reached his inn he called for pen and ink, and 
 vented a portion of his indignation in a long epistle, 
 in which, after speaking with affected contempt of 
 his cold reception at Bridge House, he thus pro- 
 ceeded, — 
 

 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 147 
 
 " This behaviour would have struck me as some- 
 thing extraordinary certainly if I had not been in pos- 
 session of a clue to it in a discovery I had acciden- 
 tally made on the preceding evening. You may pro- 
 bably remember a young man who preached at 
 Bleachley Church when you were at Brianscourt in 
 the spring, and of whom Miss Gilmour then spoke 
 with a vast deal of admiration. I am not aware 
 whether she knew at that time who he was, but no 
 oubt you will be as much surprised as I was to 
 
 arn that he turns out to be the younger son of Mr. 
 Basset, and is now staying in the same house with 
 
 I her. I happened to meet them yesterday evening 
 Walking alone together, when Miss Gilmour intro- 
 duced him as her cousin, Mr. Norman Basset ; and 
 tliis, I suppose, may account for the uncivil behaviour 
 <oi the whole family, whose interest it evidently is to 
 promote the good understanding that appears to sub- 
 sist between the young lady and this obscure indivi- 
 ual, whom she honours with marks of regard I 
 hould esteem myself but too happy to obtain, and 
 ave often solicited in vain." 
 
 This letter did not fail to j)roduce the intended 
 ffect of alarming the pride of the major, and impel- 
 ling him to take some decisive steps for putting an 
 end to such dangerous intercourse. Instead of going 
 %o Paris he returned to town as speedily as possible, 
 and immediately sent a summons to Florence, couched 
 in the most peremptory terms, requiring her imme- 
 diate presence in town, without assignmg any reason, 
 but giving her to understand that he would brook 
 neither excuse nor delay. 
 
 Florence was, indeed, at no loss to guess the tine 
 
 cause of this unwelcome mandate, which she felt 
 
 ft very strongly tempted to disobey, but her natural 
 
 ■kgood sense overcame the temptation, powerful as it 
 
 V Avas ; for she reflected that any unwise opposition to 
 
148 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 obedience would afford him a plea to attribute her 
 non-compliance with it in questions of greater import- 
 ance to the absence of a proper sense of duty. 
 
 To the Bassets she merely said that her father 
 had returned from his journey sooner tlian he ex- 
 pected, and could not manage without her at home ; 
 and to save them from feeling what she could not but 
 know was a premeditated insult, she delivered to Mr. 
 Basset a complimentary message which the letter did 
 not contain : and it must surely be a very rigid mo- 
 ralist, indeed, who would find fault with so innocent 
 a deception. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 149 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Major Gilmour received his daughter on her return 
 
 with that frigid air of poUteness, which, with him, 
 
 always denoted extreme displeasure, and which, as 
 
 everybody knows, is far more disagreeable and harder 
 
 to bear than any violent demonstration of anger, 
 
 inasmuch as it admits neither of defence nor reply. 
 
 [He made a few cold common-place inquiries respect- 
 
 fing the health and present situation of his former 
 
 I friend, but his tone and manner showed liow little 
 
 {interest he felt in the subject. Two or three days had 
 
 passed, and not a w-ord had been said about Captain 
 
 Homer, nor had that gentleman made his appearance 
 
 [in Belgrave Square, so that Florence began to flatter 
 
 [herself that her father had given up the idea of the 
 
 [alliance ; but this hope had no solid foundation, and 
 
 soon fell to the ground, for, on the morning of the 
 
 fourth day, as she was leaving the breakfast-room, the 
 
 major said, — 
 
 Miss Gilmour, I wish to have a few minutes' con- 
 [versation with you." 
 
 She shut the door again and reseated herself, op- 
 
 [pressed by that sickening of the heart with which 
 
 we listen for tidings we know to be of evil import. 
 
 There was a short interval of silence, which was 
 
 [broken by the major. 
 
150 THE BKOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 " It is necessaiy," he said, " that I should now 
 have a definitive answer with regard to the proposal 
 of Lord Merrington's nephew, who must be trifled 
 with no lopger." 
 
 " I am not aware that he has been trifled with at 
 all, sir," replied Florence. " Captain Komer is per- 
 fectly well acquainted with my sentiments on that 
 subject; and his extraordinaiy and most ungentle- 
 manly perseverance, after my very explicit refusal of 
 his offer, can have no other effect than to excite my 
 surprise and indignation." 
 
 " All this may be very like a heroine," replied her 
 father, coldly ; " but it is very unlike a young woman 
 of rational and proper ideas. In short, Florence, I 
 expect there will be no more frivolous objections raised 
 to an alliance that is in eveiy way suitable, and will 
 at once place you in the position to which you are 
 entitled both by birth and fortune." 
 
 " I did hope, sir, that I should have been spared 
 any further importunity on a subject so distressing to 
 me — my opinion of Captain Homer is not altered — it 
 never can alter; he is to me not only an object of 
 indifference, but of dislike ; and I would infinitely 
 rather die than pass my life with such a man." 
 
 "As to dying," said the major, contemptuously, 
 '* that is mere idle talk, since you have no control 
 over the term of your own existence ; and I do not 
 imagine your romance will go so far as to break your 
 heart, or induce you to take a draught of hemlock — 
 the day is gone by for that sort of thing." 
 
 *' But the day is not gone by," said Florence, with 
 a degree of spirit that somewhat startled her father, 
 " when a woman may form her own estimate of right 
 and wrong, and act according to it. I feel that it 
 would be sacrilege to promise in the sight of Heaven 
 to honour and obey a man I detest and despise. It 
 would be a mockery of God's holy ordinance, and I 
 will not do it." 
 
 " Upon my word, you seem to have profited by th 
 
 1 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 151 
 
 lessons of your clerical friend. Pray was this the 
 ^:ort of cant he entertained you with in your evening 
 wallas?" 
 
 " I never walked with the gentleman you allude to 
 but once, and on that occasion I was met by Captain 
 Eomer, who, I presume, mentioned the circumstance 
 to you." 
 
 " And may I ask, Miss Gilmour, v/hether you knew 
 who this young man was when you heard him preach 
 at Bleachley?" 
 
 " Surely, sir, you must know that I did not," re- 
 plied Florence, with indignant surprise. 
 
 " Then, when did you first become aware that ho 
 was one of the Bassets ? " 
 
 " Not till I saw him at their house in Hampshire. 
 But if you imagine, sir, that my conduct is in any 
 way influenced by Mr. Norman Basset, permit me to 
 remind you that I had expressed my sentiments with 
 regard to Captain Bonier before I had even seen Mr. 
 Basset as a stranger." 
 
 " I remember you had made some objections to 
 him that might have been overcome, if these needy 
 people had not had the art to turn your folly to their 
 own advantage. If T had known anything about this 
 second son I certainly should never have consented 
 to your going there." 
 
 " Your suspicions are so unjust," said Florence, 
 bursting into tears, " that I do not know how to re- 
 ply to them. They are unjust to me, and insulting 
 to a most honourable and estimable family." 
 
 " You are amazingly eloquent in their defence ; but 
 it is quite possible that what you consider honourable 
 and estimable, I may look upon in a very different 
 light." 
 
 " Sir, I do not, I cannot understand you. They 
 require no defence, for they have done nothing to 
 call forth any charge against them; and I am quite 
 convinced that not one of the family harbours the 
 most remote idea of such a design as your suspicions 
 
153 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 seem to point at ; and least of all, Norman himself, 
 whose attentions to me have not, in one single in- 
 stance, passed the bounds of common civility." 
 
 " So far, then, he has acted wisely," said the major, 
 with a sneer in his voice and look, " and to ensure a 
 continuance of such prudent forbearance, I desire that, 
 henceforth, you hold no communication whatever 
 with those people either by writing or visiting. Let 
 the connection cease altogether." 
 
 Florence was silent. 
 
 *' You do not answer. Do you mean to dispute my 
 commands ? " 
 
 " No, sir; I do not. However painful it may be to 
 obey you, I am prepared to do so on every point but 
 one." 
 
 " I will admit of no exceptions, — jou must either 
 accede to all my views and wishes, or cease to be con- 
 sidered as my daughter ; and if you flatter yourself 
 that this is a mere empty threat, you are mistaken, for 
 probably, Miss Gilmour, you are not aware that 1 
 have another daughter." 
 
 He had risen from his seat, and for the last few 
 minutes had been pacing the room up and down, but 
 he now stopped short, and fixed his eyes sternly upon 
 her to observe what effect was produced by this start- 
 ling and most unexjDected revelation. 
 
 " Another daughter ! " she repeated in a faltering 
 voice, turning very pale. 
 
 " Yes, another daughter, whose claims I am ready 
 to acknowledge if you think proper to forfeit the ad- 
 vantages usually considered to belong to legitimate 
 birth. You now know what your real position is, — I 
 leave you to reflect upon it, and shall expect your 
 final answer to-morrow morning." 
 
 "You can have it now, sir; for it will not be af- 
 fected even by this crueFdisclosure ; and " 
 
 "I will not take it now," he replied, interrupting 
 her with ill-suppressed fuiy in his tone and look, — 
 " You had better consider well ; for when you have 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 153 
 
 tetermined your course, I shall resolve on mine, and 
 will then be too late to repent." 
 He left the room, and Florence did indeed begin 
 consider the serious situation in which she was 
 
 ow placed. Hitherto, she had looked upon herself, 
 
 (nd been regarded by the world, as the sole heiress of 
 jer fathers wealth. She had believed herself to be 
 lis only child, and, whatever differences might arise 
 between them, had never contemplated the possibility 
 IM£ being utterly discarded, or dreamed of the exist- 
 ^^ice of so foiTnidable a rival. But why had she 
 never heard of this daughter before ? She was pro- 
 bably the offspring of an Indian mother, and in that 
 case might be grown up to womanhood ; but it was 
 also possible that she was of European birth, and still 
 [■child. How, and where was she living? Was she 
 ipbder the protection of her father, and cared for by 
 nim ? Perhaps he had more affection for this unac- 
 owledged child than for herself, and had she not in 
 ality an equal claim to the love and care of her 
 rent ? 
 
 All these and many other thoughts crowded upon 
 e mind of the unhappy girl ; and, as she pressed 
 r hands on her throbbing temples, bitter tears 
 reed theh' way through the white transparent fingers, 
 is an easy thing, whilst we are in the full enjoy- 
 ent of prosperity, when no visible clouds hang over 
 s, and all life's blessings appear within our reach, it 
 is then indeed easy to say, " All this I could cheer- 
 fully resign were it needful to make the sacrifice." 
 But let the hour of trial come, and how few would be 
 llbund with sufficient moral courage to meet it without 
 shrinking ! If Florence had, by any unforeseen cala- 
 Jlpity over which she had no control, suddenly found 
 rnerself reduced to poverty, she would have shown no 
 want of fortitude in submitting to the blow ; but here 
 she was called upon to give up her birthright to a 
 stranger by her own voluntaiy act, and this was not 
 an easy task. If her father should discard her 
 
154 THE BROTHEfiS BASSET. 
 
 entirely, she had no resource beyond a trifling legacy 
 of one thousand pounds, which, by her uncle's will, 
 she was to receive on coming of age ; but this was a 
 very small pittance for one who had been accustomed 
 from her earliest infancy to all tlie luxuries and indul- 
 gences that money could procure, and she doubted 
 her own power to bear patiently the privations of so 
 scanty an inheritance. Yet the alternative was now 
 more hateful to her than ever, and after a long and 
 painful struggle with a variety of contending feelings, 
 she resolved to remain firm to her purpose of reject- 
 ing the proposed alliance, and do the best she could 
 under whatever circumstances might arise from her 
 decision. Having made up her mind to adopt this 
 course, she became more tranquil, and hoped to be 
 able to meet her father at dinner with tolerable com- 
 posure. It was a relief to her, however, that he did 
 not dine at home, nor did she see him again that 
 day ; but the morning came, and with it, the neces- 
 sity of giving the required answer. She apprehended 
 a violent scene, but such apprehensions were ground- 
 less, for the major heard her reply without deigning 
 to utter a single word, or betray any signs of emotion 
 beyond what might be gathered from his compressed 
 lips and darkened brow. At length he rose abruptly 
 and quitted the room, leaving his daughter to form 
 vague conjectures as to what might be the result of 
 her adherence to the resolution she had taken ; but 
 on this point she was fated to remain for some time 
 in uncertainty, for her father shut himself up the 
 whole morning in his dressing-room, and about the 
 middle of the day went out, leaving word he should 
 not return to dinner. In the evening she received a 
 note from his solicitor, saying that he was gone out 
 of town; and she then found, on inquiry, that he had 
 taken his own man with him, and two travelling 
 trunks, with other luggage. 
 
THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 lit 
 
 N the very day that Florence Gilmour had spoken 
 er final determination to reject the suit of Captain 
 omer, that gentleman received a letter from Lord 
 errington's steward, containing the important infor- 
 ation that his uncle was so dangerously ill, that the 
 hysician was of opinion he could not live many 
 ays ; and this intelligence was coupled with a re- 
 uest, that Captain Romer would lose no time in 
 oming down to Brianscourt, as his lordship had ex- 
 ressed a desire to see him, and it was moreover 
 ighly desirable that the heir should he upon the 
 spot. The captain, unfortunately for himself, was 
 ot alone when this letter was put into his hand, and 
 in the surprise it occasioned he was so indiscreet as 
 to exhibit evident signs of satisfaction that did not 
 escape the observation of his companions, one of 
 whom, a Mr. Grantley, was the person whom, on a 
 former occasion, Romer had accused of unfair play, 
 an accusation which, being not altogether unfounded, 
 he had never forgiven. 
 
 " You are a lucky fellow, Romer," said one. 
 " Yes, rather," he replied, putting the letter coolly 
 into his pocket. " I shall not go down for a day or 
 
156 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 two, though ; there will be all the feminines belongmg 
 to the family in the house with horrid dismal faces, 
 and I should be obliged to look melancholy too, which 
 would be a deuced bore." 
 
 This called forth a laugh, in which he most inde- 
 corously joined, and even acceded to a proposal that 
 they shoud all dine together at the club. The news 
 of Lord Merrington's approaching death was interest- 
 ing to most of Eomer's friends, as there were few of 
 them to whom he was not indebted to some amount, 
 consequently the dinner-party that day was not com- 
 posed of mourners, nor did the heir himself pretend 
 to even a decent degree of sorrow. Yet the old lord 
 w^as his nearest relative, and had always shown more 
 regard for him than he had ever manifested towards 
 any other human being. The wine was circulated 
 pretty freely, and the spirits of the company were 
 thereby considerably elated; so much so that at 
 length one of the party rose, and proposed the health 
 of Frederick, Lord Merrington, to which Eomer un- 
 scrupulously responded. As he became more and 
 more elated, he spoke very unguardedly about the 
 state of his affairs ; made a jest of having squandered 
 away his patrimony, drew caricatures of Messieurs 
 Lloyd and Dobson, and finally made known that his 
 matrimonial scheme was at an end, declaring tliat, 
 under the present circumstances, he looked upon it 
 as a precious lucky escape. Now all this information 
 was entirely new to his auditors, who certainly would 
 not have been enlightened on any one of the points 
 mentioned, but for the coming event which had given 
 quite an altered aspect to them ; still it is never wise 
 to be premature in making such disclosures; and 
 perhaps if Captain Komer had not been so greatly exhi- 
 larated by the united effects of wine and welcome 
 news, he would have been more prudent. On the 
 following morning another letter came, urging the 
 necessity of his immediate presence at Brianscourt^ 
 and to this he replied that he was unavoidabb 
 
THK BEOTHEES BASSET. 157 
 
 'etained, but would certainly come down the next 
 [ay ; yet the next day passed and the day after that, 
 
 d he was still in town. In fact he had made up 
 
 lis mind to delay his journey till all was over, and 
 
 lus avoid witnessing a death-bed scene, as he ex- 
 
 iressed it, and of which he did not scruple to [avow 
 
 he had the utmost horror. 
 
 |i Foolish young man. Did he believe himself to be 
 
 mortal ? Four days had gone by, and on the fifth 
 
 lorning he was anxiously waiting for the coming in 
 
 ' the post which was later than usual. At last he 
 
 ieard the loud quick "rat tat," that makes so many 
 
 iearts throb with expectation every day and every 
 
 iour ; for if there is one occurrence of daily life that 
 ever fails to awaken all the varied emotions that can 
 gitate the human breast, that is the ever-exciting 
 ause of hope and fear, joy and sorrow, surprise, dis- 
 appointment, and despair, surely it is the " postman's 
 knock." In the present instance it did not prove to 
 |e the harbinger of either hope or gladness : he looked 
 ir the black seal in vain, and on tearing open the 
 lissive with eager haste he read, to his great dismay, 
 le following concise note : — 
 
 iSlE, 
 
 " My lord is so much better as to be considered 
 bite out of danger. His lordship desires me to say, 
 )u need not trouble yourself to come to Brians- 
 )urt. 
 
 I am, sir 
 
 " Your obedient seiTant, 
 
 "Petee Gibson." 
 
 (The utter discomfiture of Captain Romer at this 
 nexpccted turn of his affairs was ahnost ludicrous, 
 fie had contemplated the demise of his uncle as such 
 a matter of certainty that it had never once occurred 
 to him to reflect that while there is life, there is also 
 
158 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 a chance of recovery ; but the conviction of this tnith 
 now forced itself most unpleasantly upon his mind, 
 and he gave vent to his dissatisfaction in such expres- 
 sions as these, — 
 
 " What a cursed bore ! Just when I thought I was 
 all right — and now things are as bad as ever again. I 
 have let those fellows know, too, how far I am in with 
 Lloyd and Dobson, and that it's all off with the Gil- 
 mours too. I was a fool to do that; but who the 
 deuce would have supposed the old gentleman was 
 going to baulk me in this manner?" 
 
 He then began to consider what he had better do 
 with regard to Lord IVIerrington's angiy message, for 
 it was not at all likely he would easily forget the 
 neglect with which he had been treated, and Romer 
 now wished he had gone down at first ; but, as the 
 omission was irremediable, all he could do was to 
 soften down as much as possible the fact of his in- 
 attention, and with that view he started off without 
 delay for Brianscourt. 
 
 What first struck him on his arrival was the altered 
 tone of the domestics towards himself. He had never 
 been very popular among them, his manners being 
 insufferably haughty and assuming, yet none of them 
 had ever ventured to show him any sort of disrespect, 
 for he was looked upon as the future lord of the 
 domain, and treated accordingly. He was therefore 
 ratlier surprised at the careless air with which the 
 man who opened the hall-door to him answered his 
 inquiries. 
 
 " How is my uncle, Jennings?" 
 
 " My lord is a great deal better. Captain Eomer, 
 but he does not see any visitors." 
 
 " I suppose not. Let him know that I am here, 
 will you?" 
 
 The man coughed in a dubious manner, and with 
 a half smile said, — 
 
 " Perhaps you had better step into the libraiy, siiv^ 
 and I will send Mr. Gibson to you." " 
 
If THE BROTHERS BASSET. 159 
 
 : " Oh, — very well — send Gibson by all means, I can 
 tplain to him why I did not come before." 
 Another short dry cough was the only answer Mr. 
 jnnings condescended to make, and Captain Romer 
 alked with his usual assumption of importance 
 rough the hall to the library, where a servant-girl 
 IS cleaning the grate. She turned her head and 
 Ted at him for a moment, then, instead of rising 
 d quitting the room with a respectful curtsey, she 
 ntinued her occupation in a most vigorous and 
 everent manner. Romer threw himself on a 
 bfa, and took up a book, but he was in no mood 
 <r reading, and after waiting nearly a quarter of 
 hour, he was about to ring the bell, when Mr. 
 ibson made his appearance, and the girl instantly 
 thered up her brushes and vanished like light- 
 
 It 
 
 
 " Well, Gibson," said Romer, " I am very glad to 
 
 jar my uncle is so much better ; it was extremely 
 
 ifortunate that I was not able to come down before ; 
 
 will think it neglectful, I dare say, but the fact is, 
 
 'could not help it, and I really did not myself appre- 
 
 md any danger." 
 
 " I think. Captain Romer," replied Gibson, who 
 ^as a grave, respectable, middle-aged man, " I told 
 m, in my first letter, that his lordship was con* 
 idered to be in very great danger." 
 " I forget the exact terms, but it did not make that 
 ipression on me, and I had to attend a trial about a 
 lebt owing me; I came down the moment I was 
 ree." 
 
 " It is a pity you did not come sooner, sir ; for, to 
 ill you the truth, I am afraid that excuse will not do 
 nth. my lord." 
 "Well, then, I cannot help it, if he is offended why 
 "so it must be ; but I should like him to know that I 
 am here now, at any rate " 
 
 " I will let him know, if you wish it ; but I do not 
 think he Avill see you." 
 
160 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 " I must stay till he will, then. Does he sit up at 
 all?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he has done so for two or three days, 
 and I helieve he is up now." 
 
 " Then I have a great mind to go to him and make 
 my peace." 
 
 " You had hotter not, I assure you. Captain Komer ; 
 if you like to send any message, I will take it, but it 
 would be very wrong to force yourself into my lord s 
 presence, and would do you no good whatever." 
 
 "I will write a note, then, — give me a pen and 
 ink." 
 
 The steward supplied him with the requisite 
 materials, and waited while he wrote a few lines, 
 expressing his sorrow at having been so long detained 
 m town, the happiness he felt at his uncle's amended 
 state, and a request to be admitted to his presence. 
 
 This was carried up by Gibson, who soon returned 
 with a slip of paper in his hand, unfolded and un- 
 sealed, on which were traced, in Lord Merrington's 
 own handwriting, and under evident excitement, 
 these words : " Sir, — I will never see you again ; and 
 the sooner you leave my house the better I shall be 
 pleased. — Mereington." 
 
 The emissary presented this unfriendly scroll with- 
 out saying a single word, and as Eomer gUinced his 
 eyes over it, the colour mounted to his forehead; 
 however, he swallowed the mortification as well as he 
 could, and affected to turn it off with a laugh. 
 
 "I see, I am in a pretty scrape," he said, "but the 
 storm will blow over in a day or two ; and, in tho 
 meantime, I shall stop at the inn, so, when Lord 
 Merrington wants to see me, Gibson, you can let me 
 know." 
 
 '* When he does, I certainly will, sir," replied 
 Gibson, in a dry tone, and with a peculiar expression 
 of countenance that the captain did not exactly like ; 
 but, as there was notliing to be done, he walked oll^ 
 to the iim excessively out of humour, and vented hi 
 
II THE BROTHERS BASSET. 161 
 
 ipleen upon the landlord, who gave a shrewd guess 
 hat all was not right at the great house, and set some 
 f his satellites to find out what was the matter, hy 
 ^vailing themselves of the existing relations between 
 em and the servants at Brianscourt. 
 Captain Romer was especially incensed against his 
 mcle's domestics, whom he stigmatized as a set of 
 Solent rascals, vowing, in his own mind, that he 
 ould teach them better manners as soon as all came 
 fight again, for, that all would come right, he seemed 
 consider a matter of course ; but he had not the 
 'eal clue to Lord Merrington's present state of mind, 
 T, perhaps, he would not have reckoned Avith such 
 certainty on the return of his favour. 
 ■, Mention has already been made of an individual 
 Kiamed Grantley, who had reasons of his own for 
 ■larbouring sentiments by no means friendly towards 
 ■Captain Romer, and, as he w^as one of those who 
 ^ined with Romer at the club on the day the first 
 news arrived of Lord Merrington's illness, he was in 
 possession of a few facts that gave him the power of 
 gratifying his ill-will by using his knowledge to the 
 injury of the presumptive heir. He heard that Lord 
 lerriugton was better, was out of danger, and he be- 
 ought himself that it would be a capital way of 
 •evenging himself on Romer to let the old gentleman 
 now how he had deported himself on the day in 
 uestion, and also to give him an insight into the 
 ue state of the Captain's finances, which Romer had 
 een unwise enough to say his uncle was entirely 
 nacquainted with. 
 Acting on this bright idea, he put in requisition all 
 is literary talents to produce a startling and effective 
 omposition in the form of an epistle, giving an 
 xaggerated account of the hilarity of the dinner- 
 party in general, and of Captain Romer in particular, 
 on the day in question ; not forgetting to speak of 
 his having been then and there dubbed •' Lord Mer- 
 
 11 
 
162 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 rington," and hinting, in rather broad terms, that he 
 had evinced no disincUnation to come into possession 
 of that title forthwith. To this obliging communi- 
 cation he added the circumstance of Captain Romer's 
 having mortgaged his estate to Messrs. Lloyd and 
 Dobson, and that, in less than a twelvemonth, unless 
 Lord Merrington should be kind enough to leave 
 him his shoes, he would be in the unpleasant position 
 of a beggar, as he had been decidedly rejected by the 
 lady whose fortune he had reckoned upon somewhat 
 too confidently. Mr. Grantley refrained, for several 
 reasons, from subscribing his name to this important 
 document, which, nevertheless, had all the effect 
 intended, and something more. 
 
 If Lord Merrington had possessed the power of 
 cutting off the entail, he certainly would have done 
 so, but there was another mode of action which was 
 in his power, and might answer the purpose of dis- 
 inheriting his nephew quite as well, and that was, to 
 marry. His reluctance to the holy estate of matri- 
 mony had considerably diminished since his illness, 
 owing to the circumstance of his having been nursed 
 and tended by a certain damsel with cherry cheeks 
 and bright black eyes, called Betsey, or, in more 
 polite language, Elizabeth Fowler, the daughter of 
 one of his tenants, a meriy, kind-hearted, comely 
 lass, to whose care' and unremitting attention he was 
 chiefly indebted for his recovery. His sister and two 
 cousins had stayed in the house while he was con- 
 sidered in immediate danger, and, to do them justice, 
 they had shed abundance of tears, and made great 
 lamentations ; but they were nervous ladies, utterly 
 incapable of rendering such assistance to the sick 
 man as his situation required, so that, in spite of 
 their grief, he w^ould probably have died, had not the 
 said Elizabeth, less sensitive, but more useful, sta- 
 tioned herself at his bedside for tw^o days and two 
 nights, when any moment might have put an end to 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 163 
 
 is worldly career, if there had been no one by to 
 atch the symptoms and aj^ply the remedies the 
 stant they were needed. 
 
 The attack was violent inflammation, and, as soon 
 ;s this was subdued, the patient recovered very 
 pidly, but he was in no hurry to part with his nurse, 
 ho, when her services were no longer wanted in that 
 apacity, took upon herself the more pleasurable task 
 if amusing the convalescent, by chanting merry lays, 
 ading the newspapers aloud, and telling little anec- 
 otes of the country people round about, which served 
 beguile many an hour that would otherwise have 
 een very wearisome. Under these circumstances, it 
 ruck Lord Merrington that, upon the whole, he was 
 more obliged to the individual who had taken so 
 much pains to keep him in this world, than to the 
 one who cared not how soon he should betake him- 
 self to the next, and, with this conviction full upon 
 is mind, he, on the receipt of Mr. Grantley's 
 onymous revelation, offered his hand to the sur- 
 rised and delighted Elizabeth, who, in the joy of her 
 eart, put on her bonnet and shawl, and tripped 
 imbly across the fields, with flushed cheeks and 
 arkling eyes, to inform her no less surprised and 
 elighted parents that she was going to be Lady 
 errington, and ride in her own carriage. 
 All this had taken place two days before Captain 
 omer presented himself at Brianscourt, and as it 
 ad become pretty well known amongst the ser^^ants 
 ow the case was likely to terminate, they did not feel 
 it necessary to pay the same deference as before to 
 one who now held his heirship by a very uncertain 
 tenure, and might never succeed to the title after all. 
 
 Rence arose the unceremonious airs of the footman, 
 d the peculiar smile that had flickered on the 
 uoually imperturbable countenance of Mr. Gibson on 
 the occasion of Captain Eomer's visit, both those 
 gentlemen being aware that Miss Fowler was, at that 
 
104 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 very moment, with their lord, busily engaged in 
 choosing dresses from a heap of silks and satins that 
 had been sent by his order from the best shop in the 
 neighbouring town for her insiDOCtion. 
 
 Eomer had lingered for nearly a week at the inn, 
 vainly expecting to be sent for ; but the only reply he 
 received to his daily message of inquiry concerniug 
 the health of Lord Merrington was, that his lordship 
 was much better. 
 
 At length a slight variation occurred, it might be 
 on the fifth or sixth morning of his sojourn in the 
 country, for, instead of the verbal message that had 
 been returned on each preceding day, there came a 
 sealed note, which he hastily tore open, in the full 
 expectation that it was a summons for him to show 
 himself at Brianscourt forthwith ; but what was his 
 astonishment, his rage, his consternation, on reading 
 these words : — 
 
 " Sir, — I am desired by Lord Merrington to infoim 
 you that his lordship was married this morning to 
 Miss Elizabeth Fowler, now Lady Memngton, in the 
 private chapel at Brianscourt, by the Eev. Alexander 
 Mackenzie, Rector of Bleachley. 
 
 "I have the honour to be, sir, 
 
 •' Your obedient servant, 
 
 " Peter Gibson." 
 
 ' Eomer's first proceeding was to vent his fury on 
 the innocent paper by tearing it furiously into a great 
 many pieces and throwing them about the floor. He 
 then thought of shooting, or otherwise putting an 
 end to himself; but, as he did not carry out these 
 views, it may be presumed they were not precisely 
 to his taste. He remembered, too, that it was very 
 likely Lord Merrington would never have any other 
 heir than himself, and also that there were many 
 
TUB DROTHURS BASSET. 
 
 165 
 
 Bestow ; therefore, after expending the violence of 
 
 His wrath and indignation in a thousand invectives 
 
 against every member of his uncle's household, in- 
 
 sluding the noble lord himself, and his young bride, 
 
 ie hastily packed up his portmanteau and returned 
 
 town. 
 
166 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 For ten days Florence had remained in the most tor- 
 turing state of suspense, neither seeing nor hearing 
 from her father, whose cruel silence she was utterly at a 
 loss to interpret. Perhaps he was gone to bring home 
 the daughter he had spoken of, and if so, what was to 
 be her own future position in his house ? This was a 
 question tliat involved much serious reflection, for 
 though she felt that she could be content to share 
 her inheritance with the unknown, and treat her as a 
 sister, yet pride revolted against the idea of giving place 
 to her as the superior ; and she thought it would be 
 even easier to sacrifice all than submit to a humilia- 
 tion equally mortifying and undeserved. But in this 
 she was not destined to be tried, for the evil appeared 
 in a form harder in reality to bear, though less 
 wounding to the dignity of a sensitive mind. 
 
 On the tenth day of her father's absence there 
 came by post a very large letter, with a very large 
 seal, addressed to herself in a stiff, business-like 
 hand, which she knew at once to be that of the 
 solicitor who had written to her before, and tore it 
 open with a trembhng hand and beating heart, 
 
i 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 167 
 
 anxious, yet dreading, to see the contents, for she felt 
 ey would be unpleasing, though in what manner, 
 ncl to what extent, she had yet to learn. The truth, 
 owever, was even worse than her worst feai's had 
 onjectured, for she found that her father had actually 
 ailed for India; gone without a single word of fare- 
 ell, and left her unprotected, and almost unprovided 
 'or, to seek a home amongst strangers, and find her 
 ay alone in a world of which she had so little laiow- 
 edge or experience. 
 
 It was some time before she could bring her mind 
 to believe in the reality of a blow so overwhelming as 
 lis, for she had expected that, even in the event of 
 eing banished from his house, he would at least 
 rovide her an asylum, and furnish her with the 
 eans of living; but he had done neither so far as 
 she could understand from the letter in her hand, 
 which she read over several times in the hope of dis- 
 covering some other meaning than that which ap- 
 peared on the first perusal It was a vain endeavour, 
 he facts were stated as plain matters of business, 
 equiring neither comment nor softening; for her 
 rrespondent, although a very upright and well- 
 tentioned man, was wholly devoid of anything like 
 entiment, and it was his opinion that all he had to 
 o with the affair was to make her acquainted with 
 ertain circumstances in which she was legally inte- 
 ested, and take her instructions as to a sum of one 
 ousand pounds, which, by the provisions of her 
 ncle's will, she would be entitled to claim on the day 
 he should attain the age of twenty-one, and as it 
 only wanted about three weeks to that time, and the 
 oney was in his hands, he desired to know whether 
 e should invest it for her in any way, or pay it over 
 herself. He said that it would be advisable for her 
 to leave the house in Belgrave Square as soon as pos- 
 sible, as Major Gilmour had instructed him to employ 
 an agent to let it furnished for twelve months, and 
 had also given directions that the plate and other 
 
 E 
 
168 THE BBOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 valuables of which he, the lawyer, had an inventory, 
 should be placed in the care of his bankers. With 
 regard to any money Miss Gilmour might require to 
 pay off the servants and settle any other matters pre- 
 vious to her departure, he had authority to advance 
 it, and would wait upon Miss Gilmour at any time 
 she might appoint, to take her commands. 
 
 Florence knew nothing whatever of business — 
 indeed, how should she? and to her wounded spirit 
 this dry, matter-of-fact letter appeared the most cruel, 
 heartless, unfeeling epistle ever dictated by human 
 heart or penned by human hand; yet the worthy 
 writer was wholly guiltless of cruelty, heartlessness, or 
 want of feeling, and would have been very much 
 astonished no doubt if anybody had told him he had 
 produced so unfavourable an impression. The deser- 
 tion of her father was a severe, and certainly an un- 
 expected, blow to Florence, who, notwithstanding all 
 he had said, never believed that he would carry his 
 resentment to such an extremity. She was coolly 
 told it was desirable that she should leave the house 
 — her father's house — her own natural home; but 
 where was she to go ? How was she to fmd another 
 dwelling-place? Her tlioughts naturally turned to- 
 wards the Bassets, but the idea of seeking an asylum 
 with them in her distress was intolerably painful, for 
 she had reason to believe that Emily at least, and 
 perhaps other members of the family, suspected her 
 of more than an ordinary regard for Norman, and so 
 long as she was superior to him in wealth and station, 
 this gave her no uneasiness ; but now, what might 
 they think — what might Norman himself think, if she 
 were to throw herself upon their protection? The 
 same reason deterred her from writinsf to tell them 
 what had happened and to ask their advice, for she 
 was quite sure they would say, " Dear Florence, come 
 to us." She therefore determined to consult the man 
 of law, whom she knew to be a just man, and one in 
 whom she could place U'ugt, however deficient he 
 
rHB BltOTHEES ^ASSET. 169 
 
 ight be in sj^mpathetic feeling, and she wrote to 
 im accordingly, requesting that he would call upon 
 er the next day. She had seen him more than once, 
 o that she was not unacquainted with his formal ad- 
 ress and somewhat repellent manners, which was so 
 ar fortunate that it prevented her from ascribing 
 them, as she otherwise might have done, to the exist- 
 ing circumstances, which had no more effect upon 
 jlie feelings of the gentleman in question (supposing 
 e had any) than a handfull of feathers flung against 
 stone wall. She had hoped to learn something 
 ore in this interview of her father's intentions, but 
 le cautious lawyer either could not, or would not, 
 ive her any information, confining himself strictly to 
 he business he had come about, and so carefully 
 voiding every other subject that she remained un- 
 ertain whether he did or did not know the object of 
 ajor Gilmour's voyage to India, and how far he Avas 
 cquainted with the circumstances that had occasioned 
 he present disagreement between her father and her- 
 elf. One thing, however, there could be no doubt 
 about, which was, 'that, however much he might know, 
 it was certainly his intention to keep it to himself, and 
 although Florence felt as if her heart was breaking, 
 he had too much spirit to betray her feelings before 
 ills icy stranger, difficult as it was to restrain them, 
 d listened with forced calmness to all he thought 
 roper to communicate, which was little more than a 
 epetition of what his letter had contained, except 
 indeed, that she was at liberty to remain in the house, 
 
 I and retain the present establishment during the few 
 weeks that she would still be a minor. 
 ■ "And what am I to do tlien, sir?" she asked, with 
 a bewildered look. 
 It "I presume, madam, you will make your own 
 arrangements," the gentleman replied, in a tone which 
 plainly said "that is no affair of mine." 
 
 "How long do you suppose my father will be 
 absent?" 
 
no THE BEOTHEKS BASSET. 
 
 *' I am not awai'e that he has fixed any time for his 
 return." 
 
 " Do you mean, sir, that it is likely he wiU not 
 come back to England?" 
 
 *'Itis quite possible, madam; nevertheless, I beg 
 to say that I have no authority for stating that such 
 is his intention; nor has it much to do, I believe, 
 with the business between you and me at this mo- 
 ment." 
 
 "Not much, indeed," repeated Florence, sighing 
 deeply. " Yet you cannot be surprised that I should 
 wish to obtain all the information you can give on a 
 subject so important to me." 
 
 " I am not at all sui-prised, ma'am; but, as it is 
 not in my power to give any information whatever, 
 you will perhaps do me the favour to say what your 
 wishes ai'e with regard to Mr. Kenneth Gilmour's 
 bequest." 
 
 Florence said she should be glad to leave the 
 money in his hands, and draw upon him from time 
 to time for such sums as she might require, trusting 
 that, before the fund was exhausted, her father would 
 return and make some more suitable provision for 
 her. 
 
 The lawyer, after a few minutes' consideration, re- 
 plied, — 
 
 "As it appears doubtful whether any other pro- 
 vision will be made, I should advise you to act as if 
 you had no such expectation." 
 
 " I have nothing to expect, then, and he knows 
 it — " was the thought that instantly crossed the mind 
 of Florence, who, however, made a strong effort to 
 suppress that painful rising in the throat which can 
 only be relieved by tears, and said quietly, " Will you 
 be so good, sir, as to tell me what I had better do?" 
 
 "It depends on whether you have other re- 
 sources." 
 
 "I have nothing else — ^that is all." 
 
 " Then I should advise you to get the best interest 
 
THB BROTHERS BASSET. 171 
 
 ^Lou can, and infringe as little as possible on the prin- 
 ^cipal." 
 
 ^ Florence looked as if she did not exactly comprehend 
 Bkhat he meant, on which he explained to her several 
 Bdifferent ways of investing her money so as to pro- 
 duce from fifty-five to sixty pounds a year, ^ which to 
 her, who had been accustomed to spend much more 
 ■than that with her milliner, seemed as nothing in the 
 ^ight of a maintenance, and she could not help 
 paying,— 
 
 ■ " Will it be possible to live upon so little as that?" 
 " "I should imagine quite possible," replied the 
 lawyer. '' However, if you think it desirable for the 
 money to be so placed that in case of difficulty you 
 can draw upon the principal, I can get you five per 
 cent, for it — in fact, I will be responsible for that 
 amount of interest so long as the money remains in 
 my hands, and for what more you may want, of course 
 you will apply to me. I shall also be obliged if you 
 will communicate with me as soon as you have made 
 your arrangements for leaving Belgrave Square." 
 
 Florence bowed her head in token that she would 
 attend to this last request, for she could not trust her 
 voice with a reply, and it was a great relief to her 
 when the solicitor took his leave, for it had been a 
 most painful effort to preserve a calm demeanour in 
 his presence, and the moment he was gone the pent 
 up streams gushed forth with tenfold violence from 
 having been so long restrained, nor did she make the 
 least attempt to stop their course, but suffered them 
 to flow on without control until the fountain of the 
 heart was exhausted. Feeling somewhat tranquillised 
 by this outpouring of her sorrows, she was able to 
 look more steadily at the prospect before her, and to 
 realise to herself the tine position in Avhich she was 
 placed. That her father had entirely discarded her 
 she could no longer doubt, and it was equally evident 
 that he was gone to bring his future heiress from 
 India. The sohcitor had certainly hinted at the pro- 
 
n-2 THB BROTHERS BASSEl*. 
 
 bability of his not returning to England again, in 
 which case it was perhaps his intention to settle in 
 France or Italy, where he might introduce his hitherto 
 unacknowledged child as his only and legitimate 
 daughter. It was a galling thought, yet now that she 
 knew the worst, she felt more at ease than while in 
 uncertainty, and did not for one moment regret the 
 course she had herself taken. 
 
 *' I have not deserved to be thus treated,** she said, 
 '• but tlie alternative was infinitely worse ; and what- 
 ever my future lot may be, thank Heaven I am saved 
 from the misery of being married to a man I despise. 
 Others have met with reverse of fortune, and why 
 should I not bear it as well as they? Yes, Claudia 
 shall see, and Norman too shall see, that I am not 
 wanting in fortitude any more than themselves. — 
 Norman — Ah ! I fear I think of liim too much and 
 too often. Yet, if it were not for that — but I must 
 think of other things now, for I have a new life to 
 begin." 
 
 Banishing all other thoughts from her mind, she 
 began seriously to consider what it would be best for 
 her to do, and at length she concluded that her first 
 object must be to find a home, and her next, to devise 
 some plan whereby to increase the trifling income 
 secured to her by her uncle's legacy. Home! How much 
 is comprehended in that little word, how very much 
 beyond the shelter of a roof or the luxuries of a 
 table ! It is the watchword of peace and happiness 
 and love ; where these are not among the inmates of 
 your dwelling-place, there your abode may be, but not 
 your home. Yet in glancing over the advertising 
 columns of The Times, one might fairly conclude 
 that " to find a home " must be the very easiest thing 
 in the world : and to read of all the comforts, pos- 
 sible and impossible, that are to be ever}^where 
 obtained, the only wonder is, why anybody should 
 ever be uncomfortable. 
 •^ One of these promising advertisements appeai'ed 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 1T3 
 
 to offerto Florence a very desirable place of refuge 
 ill her present difficulty, and she answered it without 
 delay, having made up her mind to leave her father's 
 house as soon as she had found another place of 
 abode ; for the servants had begun to wonder why she 
 
 tefused to see any visitors, and their very respect 
 eemed to her like mockery, feeling, as she did, that 
 he was no longer their mistress. The advertisement 
 he answered was addressed to " Ladies of limited 
 - income," and set forth, in glowing terms, the manifold 
 
 I delights of a certain domicile in the good town 
 of Newbury, where any lady of small means might be 
 accommodated with board and lodging of first-rate 
 ;cxcellence, incomparable society, and all the pleasures 
 of home, without its cares and anxieties, for the small 
 stipend of fifty pounds a-year. 
 Florence received a letter in reply to hers, which 
 induced her to decide at once upon going to Newbury, 
 -where she intended to give lessons, if she could get 
 any pupils to take them — in music, French, and 
 drawing — in all of which she was sufficiently accom- 
 plished to teach in a country town ; and having thus 
 far settled her plans, she wrote to the solicitor, saying 
 that she was going to leave Belgrave Square imme- 
 diately, and requesting that he would take upon 
 himself the trouble of discharging the servants, and 
 making all other necessary arrangements after her 
 departure. 
 
174 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The autumn was far advanced, and the day was 
 as dreary and comfortless as could well be imagined, 
 when Florence Gilmour arrived at her new abode 
 with a heart as cheerless as the scene around her. 
 The wind wailed mournfully among the trees, sending 
 down showers of yellow leaves with every blast, whilst 
 a drizzling rain, not heavy enough to hold its straight 
 course downward, but drifted this way and that at the 
 caprice of the ungentle gale, added to the general 
 discomfort of this most melancholy day. Florence 
 had kept up her spirits pretty well, until she drove 
 away from the door of her father's house, and heard 
 it shut against her for ever ; then all the desolateness 
 of her situation rushed upon her mind with full force, 
 and she did, indeed, feel wi'etched and lonely. So 
 long as the right had remained to her of entering that 
 house, and calling it " home," she had hardly believed 
 in the reality of her exiled and orphaned condition, 
 but when the door was closed, never to be opened to 
 her again, the sound was so strange, so chilling, that 
 it fell like a weight of ice upon her heart, and was 
 still haunting her remembrance when she reached the 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 175 
 
 [gate of Cranberry Lodge, the dwelling-place fate had 
 for the present assigned her. It was a large, veiy 
 )ld and dingy-looking brick-built house, standing far 
 )aek in a garden, not in very good order, but pre- 
 senting to the eye unsightly relics of the last flowers 
 fof the season, some still clinging tenaciously, dis- 
 coloured and drooping, to the parent stem, while 
 [others were lying in decayed fragments on the beds 
 \vhere they had bloomed and died. There were 
 
 few fruit-ti'ees too, apples, pears, and cherries, which 
 served the j^urpose of holding out temptation to 
 ill the idle mischievous boys in the good town of 
 [ewbury, whose nightly depredations were a never- 
 failing source of disquiet to the mistress of the 
 nansion. 
 
 There was no carriage-drive up to the entrance of 
 the house, and, in consequence of that inconvenience, 
 is soon as the fly drew up to the gate, an untidy- 
 looking servant-girl ran out with an umbrella, whilst 
 three female heads disappeared from one of the 
 windows, and immediately afterwards became visible, 
 Vith the bodies belonging thereunto, within the door- 
 way. 
 
 These component parts formed the Owen family, 
 Consisting of Mrs. Owen, the lady of Cranberry 
 "jodge, and the two Misses Owen, her off'spring ; but 
 ^hich was the mother and which were the daughters, 
 ft was not easy at first sight to determine, as they 
 i'ere all three tall and prim in person, with those 
 nry, frigid faces, that defy all speculation as to age ; 
 tnd they wore the same kind of head-dress, not 
 Exactly a cap, but some nondescript article, manufac- 
 kned out of black lace and blue ribbon. Their 
 Iresses, too, were of the same pattern, and so scanty, 
 is to warrant a suspicion that the three had been 
 Contrived, by skilful management, out of two dress- 
 lengths ; and there were other points of resemblance, 
 especially in the thin, sharp tone of voice common to 
 all, that rendered the similarity more perfect. 
 
176 THE BROTHERS BASSET. ' 
 
 The impression made upon Florence by this first 
 view of the people with whom she was to be domesti- 
 cated was certainly not an agreeable one; but her 
 mind was so entirely pre-occupied by her own affairs, 
 that she had little attention to bestow on those pecu- 
 liarities of dress and manner, that at another time, 
 and under otlier circumstances, might perhaps have 
 afforded her some amusement. 
 
 Each lady welcomed the new boarder with a formal 
 speech, evidently got up for the occasion, and she 
 was then shown to her sleeping-room, which was 
 large, and not badly furnished; but the first thing 
 she observed was, that it had no fire-place, a deficiency 
 that was perhaps rendered more noticeable by the 
 gloominess of the day ; and she mentioned it to Mrs. 
 Owen, who looked at one of her daughters, and said, 
 in a significant manner, — 
 
 " Miss Gilmour can have your room, Jane, if she 
 prefers one with a fire-place ; but it will be time 
 enough to talk of that as the winter comes on ; it 
 would be a sin to begin to think about fires yet." 
 
 Florence cast a shivering glance towards the win- 
 dow, which disclosed a view quite wintry enough to 
 justify the thought that a cheerful blaze would 
 at that moment be extremely comfortable; however, 
 as no one seemed to take up that idea, altliough the 
 rain was pattering against the glass, and the window- 
 frames were rattling in the wind, she did not express 
 her opinion on the subject, but silently followed the 
 ladies to the drawing-room. The apartment thus 
 designated was a large old-fashioned, wainscoted 
 room, covered with a printed drugget, of a showy 
 pattern, and furnished with twelve chairs, ranged in 
 order against the walls, the frames painted in imitation 
 of rosewood, and the cushions cased with brown 
 holland ; a sofa, to match ; and a loo table standing 
 in the middle of the apartment. These, with the 
 addition of some shells, and two small glass chande; 
 liers on the mantelpiece, were literally all that tl 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 177 
 
 Hny kind of work, or even an inkstand, to show that 
 ^Bie drawing-room was ever used for any other pur- 
 Hose than to sit in ; and this promised to be but 
 H dull sort of occupation, as it was evident the Owens 
 Brere not a musical family, nor was their conversation 
 
 particularly brilliant. 
 IH The prominent idea that suggested itself to the 
 mind of Florence, as she surveyed this cold, com- 
 fortless room of , state, was, " How different from 
 Bridge House ! " and as she looked at the cheerless 
 grate, ornamented with green and white cut paper, 
 ,^he recalled to memory a certain evening in the 
 ■■ummer, when, it being damp and chilly, a good fire 
 ||was made in tlie little parlour, and the whole family, 
 Norman included, with Freshfield Eay and Mr. 
 Bgleby, drew round it and amused themselves and 
 ch other with enigmas and various fireside pastimes, 
 t was one of the happiest evenings she had spent 
 ere, and she remembered it now with a sigh of 
 tense regret. 
 
 At lengtli the girl who had before appeared, and 
 
 ho was the only domestic belonging to the establish- 
 
 ent, came to say tliat the tea was ready, and the 
 
 hole party adjourned to -what appeared to be the 
 
 ommon sitting-room, by the work-boxes, knitting- 
 
 askets, and other tokens of industry that met the 
 
 ye. There were a few books, too, ranged on three 
 
 ittle shelves, about two feet in length, strung toge- 
 
 er, and hung against the wall like a bird-cage ; and 
 
 here was also a well-worn backgammon-board, to 
 
 which one of the ladies directed Miss Gilmour's 
 
 ttention as an endless source of amusement, saying, 
 
 ly way of enhancing its attractions, that they never 
 
 layed for money. The tea was very weak, and was 
 
 oured out by Miss Hannah, who rather surprised 
 
 lorence, by asking whether she took white sugar or 
 
 rown. 
 
 "We all take brown," said the mamma, "for we 
 
 12 
 
178 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 consider it more wholesome ; but there is white, 
 if you prefer it." 
 
 *'I certainly do prefer it," replied Florence, looking 
 with disgust at the very coarse brown sugar with 
 which Miss Hannah was sweetening the tea; but 
 she did not see the significant looks exchanged 
 between the other two ladies, which said as plainly as 
 looks can speak, — 
 
 " White sugar is rather too much of a good thing 
 for fifty pounds a year." 
 
 The tea being over, Florence was asked whether 
 she would like to sit in the drawing-room or in 
 the parlour, to which she replied that it was a matter 
 of indifference to her. 
 
 "Then we will stav here," said Miss Jane: "for 
 we hardly ever use the drawing-room but when we 
 have company, because we don't like to make a litter 
 there with our work. I suppose you do knitting or 
 crochet, or something of that kind ?" 
 
 Florence said she sometimes did a little fancy 
 work, and asked several questions relative to the 
 various specimens of handicraft she saw in progress, 
 and looked at the patterns exhibited by the Misses 
 Owen, expressing all the admiration that seemed to 
 be expected. While this inspection was going on, a 
 double knock at the door announced a visitor. 
 
 "Now I would venture any money," said Miss 
 Jane, " that it's Maiy Turner — I knew she wouldn't 
 wait till to-morrow. She is come on purpose to look 
 at you, Miss Gilmour, for I told her this morning we 
 had a young lady coming to board with us, and she 
 is so very inquisitive." 
 
 "And such a gossip," added the sister; " she will 
 never rest till she knows all about you ; but I would 
 advise you not to tell her anything you wouldn't lil^e 
 all the town to know." 
 
 " Hush — sh — sh ! " whispered Jane, with a warning 
 look towards the door, which at that moment was 
 opened by the lady in question, a brisk little person, 
 
 I 
 
^^^^^■[ THE BEOTHEBS BASSET. 170 
 
 Imartly drei3sed, who tripped into the room in the 
 ■iveUest manner possible ; and the Owens, notwith- 
 standing the mifavom^able sentiments they had just 
 ■xpressed, declared they were delighted to see her. 
 i " It is so kind of you," said one, "and in the rain 
 ■nd all ; I am so glad, for I was afraid Miss Gilmour 
 irould be very dull if nobody came in this evening." 
 i " To be sure," responded the visitor, " it makes 
 pi agreeable change ; but you haven't introduced me, 
 Jane." 
 lib Tlie ceremony of introduction was gone through in 
 IBtue form, and Miss Turner then considered herself 
 properly qualified to ask all manner of impertinent 
 questions, Avhich Florence answered civilly, but coldly 
 l^nd with much reseiwe ; so that the querist did not 
 IBbtain the information she had come expressly to 
 seek, and this disappointment caused her to report 
 the next day to all her friends that the Owens' 
 boarder was the stiffest, most disagreeable thing she 
 ever saw in her life. Her visit lasted about an hour, 
 and as soon as she was gone, the mother and sisters 
 began with one accord to launch forth the shafts of 
 malice and satire ao'ainst her in a most unmerciful 
 manner, till Florence, weary, disgusted, and sick at 
 
 I heart, retired to her own a2:)artment on a plea of 
 Ititigue, glad to escape from such uncongenial as- 
 sociates. 
 m Once more alone and at liberty to indulge in her 
 pwn meditations she began to consider what means 
 ^be could take to find some other place of residence, 
 having already seen enough of the Owens to decide 
 upon not remaining with them for a longer period 
 ^ than suited her own convenience. The worst trial was 
 Bbow over, and her natural high spirit was fast re- 
 suming its ascendancy over her mind, aided, perhaps, 
 by a secret desire to prove herself worthy of the 
 esteem of him whose esteem was to her of infinite 
 worth. Firm, however, to her first resolution, she 
 would not write to the Bassets till her abode and 
 
IBO THE BROTHERS BASSET.- 
 
 occupation were fixed, and all her energies were di- 
 rected towards this end, being no less anxious for the 
 consolation their sympathy would afford her, than for 
 relief from her present uncomfortable situation. Her 
 first object was to ascertain whether there was any 
 likelihood of getting pupils in Newbury ; therefore, 
 on the following morning at breakfast, she spoke of 
 her intentions, and inquired whether there were any 
 families in the neighbourhood to whom she could 
 offer her services as a teacher. 
 
 The effect produced on the countenances of all 
 the ladies by this disclosure and query was so truly 
 ludicrous that Florence could scarcely help laughing. 
 To think that their boarder, whom they had boasted of 
 to all their acquaintances as a gentleman's daughter, 
 and a young lady of independent fortune, should 
 turn out after all to be nothing better than a gover- 
 ness ! — They drew up their heads in dignified silence, 
 compressed their thin lips, and cast expressive glances 
 towards each other, which seemed to say — " Here's a 
 pretty discovery ! " 
 
 Miss Hannah, in consequence of this unexpected 
 revelation, watching her opportunity, adroitly ex- 
 tracted a lump of white sugar from Miss Gilmour's 
 cup, and substituted half a teaspoonful of brown, 
 while Miss Jane said, rather tartly, " they really did 
 not know of anybody wanting a governess ; in fact, 
 they had not the least idea that Miss Gilmour had 
 come there to look out for a situation." 
 
 " Nor is that exactly the case, Miss Owen," replied 
 Florence. "All I desire to do is to give a few lessons 
 in music, French, and Italian." 
 
 "It is just the same thing," observed Mrs. Owen. 
 " For my part, I see no difference between that and 
 a common governess." 
 
 " Nor I either," said one of the younger ladies, — 
 "however, you know your own affairs best, and if 
 you want pupils you had better ask at the Library i£j 
 they can recommend you to any." 
 
THE BROTHERS BAHSET. 181 
 
 ii Florence thanked her for the hint, and said she 
 ehoukl lose no time in acting upon it; but, as she 
 rose from the table, Mrs. Owen, with that prudent 
 foresight which often distinguishes ladies who receive 
 strangers into the bosom of their families, promising 
 them ' all the comforts of a home,' said, — 
 ^ " You mentioned something about a fire in your 
 bed-room, Miss Gilmour; of course that would be 
 charged extra." 
 ^ " Very well, ma'am," 'Florence answered. *' I am 
 willing to pay for any accommodation beyond what is 
 ^usual ; " and so saying, she left the room. 
 H "Did you ever see such airs?" said Miss Jane. 
 B*' She walks as stately as if she fancied herself a 
 duchess. It is really quite ridiculous ! " 
 
 " Ridiculous indeed ! " responded the sister- — " and 
 her father, I suppose, some poor half-pay officer — I 
 "Wish we had known it before I said so much about 
 her to the Holcrofts." 
 
 " Mary Turner is a great deal worse than the Hol- 
 rofts ; a tine story she'll make of it — I think we had 
 better go and call upon her, and say how shocked 
 and surprised we are at being so deceived." Miss 
 Hannah admitted the good policy of being themselves 
 the first to announce the startling intelligence to the 
 deceived ladies of Newbury, that the person who had 
 thus surreptitiously forced herself into the polite 
 
 I circles of that bright spot of the earth was an im- 
 postor; for the Owens gave out that their only motivo 
 in receiving a stranger amongst them was to enlarge 
 the social circle around the domestic hearth ; or, in 
 other words, that they wanted a genteel boarder 
 merely for the sake of society. 
 
 While this discussion was going on in the parlour, 
 Florence w^ent to the Librarv, and seeinj^r no one in 
 
 tthe shop but a young man who was evidently not the 
 master, she gave her card, requesting to see Mr. 
 Eouth ; on which the young man walked to the far 
 end of tlie shop where a small space was railed off 
 
182 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 apparently to serve the purpose of a counting-house, 
 and having put the card through the railing, and said 
 a few words in a low tone of voice, an elderly gentle- 
 man in spectacles issued forth, and bowing to Flo- 
 rence with a look of inquiry awaited her commands. 
 She at once explained her business without any hesi- 
 tation or embarrassment, and as soon as the librarian 
 fully understood what it was she desired, he said that, 
 if she chose to place her name on his books she 
 might be informed of every family in Newbury want- 
 ing teachers, until she succeeded in making an en- 
 gagement. The fee, he did not forget to add, was 
 half-a-guinea. This she readily paid, and then Mr. 
 Eouth, with more politeness than he generally used 
 towards professional persons requiring his assistance, 
 gave her a note of introduction to a Mrs. Copeland, 
 the wife of a surveyor who lived about half-a-mile off, 
 and she availed herself of it without delay. 
 
 She found Mrs. Copeland a lady-like, well-educated 
 person, of easy, agreeable manners, which did away 
 in great measure with the repugnance she might 
 otherwise naturally have felt to commence a life so 
 new and strange ; for it is not the occupation, but the 
 contumely with which it is so often attended, that 
 embitters the governess's lot, and makes many a one 
 shrink from employing her time and talents to a 
 useful end, who would willingly do so, were she 
 certain of meeting with the respect she feels her due. 
 
 Mrs. Copeland, it appeared, had four children, 
 whom she had herself instructed hitherto, but as they 
 were now beyond childhood, the task had become too 
 arduous without assistance ; therefore, after a long 
 conversation, it was settled that Florence should 
 attend fom' hours every morning, to give lessons in 
 music, French, Italian, and drawing, while the mother 
 continued to do her part as before. 
 
 The salary was to be five guineas a month, and 
 with this addition to her own stipend, Florence 
 thought she might do very weU. Before she took her 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 183 
 
 leave, Mrs. Copeland led her to the schoolroom, 
 where slie was introduced to her future pupils, four 
 pretty little girls, the eldest about thirteen, who 
 looked at her with the shyness and curiosity children 
 naturally feel at the first sight of a new governess, 
 but they laughed merrily, and answered all she said 
 to them as if they thought they should like her very 
 well. In her way back she called at tlie Library 
 Bio tell Mr. Routh she had entered into an engage- 
 ment with Mrs. Copeland, at which he expressed 
 ^^fereat satisfaction, partly, no doubt, because he really 
 Hv^as struck by the superiority of her person and 
 ^Banners ; but it was also possible that he did not 
 lose sight of the fact, that in case she should require 
 .to place her name on his books again, it would 
 e another half-guinea. 
 
184 THE BROTPIERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The lodging provided for Norman Basset by the 
 rector's lady was in one of a neat row of houses 
 standing on the high road, a little way out of Ando- 
 ver. The landlady was an elderly gentlewoman, who 
 kept one servant, and made her small income into a 
 larger one by letting her first floor when she could, to 
 a single gentleman, and " doing for him," as she 
 phrased it ; which " doing for " consisted in managing 
 his little domestic affairs to the best advantage, not 
 exactly for him, but for herself. For instance, her 
 servant usually breakfasted off the lodger s loaf and 
 butter; the vegetables bought for him were always 
 very dear ; and his tea and coffee being made down 
 stairs, generally served all the three ; but, as he was 
 unconscious of the fact, his peace of mind was undis- 
 turbed thereby, and as mistress and maid were both 
 very civil and obliging, he was, upon the whole, 
 tolerably comfortable. He had now been quietly 
 settled in this abode for some weeks, and was already 
 becoming extremely popular, not only among Mr. 
 Robertson's parishioners, but all through and round 
 about the town of And over, where numerous reports^ 
 were circulated respecting the rank, fortune, and con- 
 
I 
 
 THB BROTHERS BASSET. 185 
 
 nections of tlie handsome young curate ; some saying 
 
 they had heard, on very good authority, that he was 
 
 early related to a rich Indian nabob ; others, that 
 
 ley knew for certain his uncle was a lord, and that 
 
 e had great expectations. A few persons went so far 
 
 s to assert that he was on the point of marriage with 
 
 young lady of immense fortune, but this was gene- 
 
 •ally disbelieved, especially by the spinsters, who 
 
 greed in setting it down as a false and malicious 
 
 eport. Now most of these rumours owed their 
 
 rigin to a certain thick-headed boy, whose mother 
 
 ived at Andover, and who was occasionally employed 
 
 n the Hill Farm to scare away the crows. 
 
 It happened that when Captain Eomer paid a visit 
 ,t Bridge House, this lad held his horse, and was 
 fterwards told by one of the stable-boys at the inn 
 where the captain was staying, that the gentleman 
 was nephew to a great lord ; and hearing from his 
 mother that the curate of the New Church often 
 went to Bridge House, he somehow or other confused 
 
 Itlie identity of the clerg^anan and the captain, thus 
 [giving rise to the many and various contradictory 
 btatements that agitated the public mind as far 
 Rs their influence extended. There was one person, 
 indeed, resident at Andover, who might have given a 
 uer version of Norman's private histoiy, had she 
 hosen so to do, but she had her own reasons for 
 oncealing her knowledge of his family affairs, and 
 istened to the gossip of her neighbours just as 
 ^f she knew nothing more than they did themselves, 
 his was Mrs Heaviside, the sentimental widow, 
 who, it may be recollected, was at the dinner-party 
 [given by Mr. Basset, on the memorable day with 
 which this story commences. 
 
 Her acquaintance with that gentleman was of long 
 standing, and had arisen under circumstances which, 
 in the opinion of those who take a common-place 
 view of things, might have entitled him to some 
 small share of her consideration, even in his humbled 
 
186 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 condition; for her late husband had, in fact, owed 
 the foundation of his prosi^erity to Mr. Basset's 
 father, who, at the beginning of his career, lent him 
 three thousand pounds, without any security whatever, 
 to establish him in tlie concern that eventually made 
 his fortune; and altliough the interest had been 
 regularly paid, and the principal in course of time 
 returned, yet it was quite certain that without such 
 assistance he would never have had the oppor- 
 tunity of leaving his wife a rich widow ; therefore, it 
 might be affirmed with truth, that she was indebted 
 to tiie Basset family for her present comfortable 
 position in the world. 
 
 The deceased Mr. Heaviside was a manufacturer, 
 and the owner of extensive cotton-mills in the north 
 of Staffordshire. He had, in the course of twenty 
 years, amassed a store of worldly wealth, by extracting 
 the utmost amount of labour he was entitled to claim 
 from his workpeople, never giving anything away, 
 nor in any case paying a single fraction more than he 
 was lawfully obliged to pay ; and it was in conse- 
 quence of tills prudent method of conducting his 
 affairs, tiiat he obtained the reputation of being 
 a hard master, and a very questionable kind of 
 Christian. He certainly was not a particularly tender 
 husband, so that when he died, his lady's mourning 
 was not of the heart, but of the head and general 
 person ; and even these outward emblems of sorrow 
 were discarded so much sooner than custom warrants 
 on such occasions, that the ladies of Andover were 
 utterly scandalised by a breach of decorum so unpre- 
 cedented. In strict propriety she ought still to have 
 been weaiing the plain cap and sable attire that 
 denotes a state of widowhood ; whereas, she had for 
 several months past been flaunting in all the colours 
 of the rainbow, and looking just as if there had 
 never been a Josiah Heaviside to be lamented, or if 
 there Avere, tiiat she was not the person deputed ^ 
 to lament hini. She had fixed her abode in Hamp- 
 
THE BBOTIIEES BASSET. 187 
 
 hire immediately after bis death, having both pro- 
 erty and connections in that county, and the house 
 which she resided, with its pretty grounds well 
 .aid out and carefully tended, was her own. Her 
 stablishment consisted of a man, who was coachman, 
 footman, gardener or groom, as occasion required, 
 ^wo women-servants, a boy, and the niece, who has 
 Pfelready been introduced to the reader by the name of 
 Alice Compton, and who acted in the double capacity 
 ■if lady's maid and companion. 
 
 B Poor Alice ! From the age of nine years she had 
 
 Occupied what is, with very few exceptions, the most 
 
 fcnenviable post in any family, tlim of dependent 
 
 Relative. All other subordinates in a house have 
 
 their defined position, and their respective duties 
 
 ssigned to them accordingly ; but the poor relation 
 
 has no position, and generally has to perform, witliout 
 
 fee or reward, the w^ork of half a dozen menials, each 
 
 f whom would be paid for services which the unfor- 
 
 nate dependent is expected to render gi-atuitously, 
 
 id at the same time to acknowledge a grateful sense 
 
 f obligations conferred. Had there been any little 
 
 eavisides, it is probable that Miss Compton might 
 
 ave had to take upon herself the duties of assistant 
 
 urseiy-maid, in addition to her other appointments ; 
 
 ut, hapi)ily for her, the House of Heaviside was 
 
 blest with any such interesting pledges of affection, 
 
 d her sphere of action was therefore limited to the 
 
 epartments abovementioned, in each of which she 
 
 eld no sinecure. 
 
 For more than fifteen years Alice had saved her 
 
 ,unt at least thirty pounds annually in wages and 
 
 needlework, yet the w^orld said, " What an amiable 
 
 Ifcreature Mrs. Heaviside must be, to have maintained 
 
 Iphat- poor orphan girl for so long a period." The 
 
 poor orphan would perhaps have been better clothed, 
 
 less severely tasked, and spared many a bitter pang, 
 
 had she been sent out to serve strangers. But it 
 
 is thus the world judges of such things, for its know- 
 
188 THB BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 ledge goes no deeper than the surface ; it sees not the 
 cold looks, it hears not the cruel taunts, it knows 
 nothing of the minute details that make the happiness 
 or miseiy of daily life, or of the slights and mortifi- 
 cations that so ofteij poison the cup of the dependent 
 relation. Habit, however, is second nature, and the 
 poor girl had been so long accustomed to live in 
 a state of petty thraldom, that it never once occurred 
 to her simple mind that she might shake it off and 
 trust to herself; but this required a degree of spirit 
 she never thought of exercising, for her energies, if 
 she had any, had lain dormant under the depressing 
 influence of a life without object or interest, and so 
 she went on quietly from day to day, and from year 
 to year, wearing out her aunt's old gowns, bearing 
 with all her ill-humours, and wondering how people 
 felt who had it in their power to do as they pleased. 
 Mrs. Heaviside knew perfectly well that the Bassets 
 were residing within a visiting distance, but she had 
 not taken advantage of that circumstance to keep up 
 her intimacy with them, or return in any way the many 
 civilities they had shown her personally, besides the 
 important service rendered to her husband, of which 
 she was now enjoying the benefits ; in fact, it was not 
 agreeable to her to bear those things in mind, per- 
 haps because she knew that her feelings were ex- 
 tremely sensitive, and avoided as much as possible the 
 remembrance of obligations, for fear they should over- 
 whelm her with a weight of gratitude too heavy to 
 bear. Besides, how could she introduce the occupants 
 of such a place as Bridge House to her dear friends 
 the Isherwoods and the Selwyns; Sir Thomas Isher- 
 wood being the Lord of the Manor, and Mr. Selwyn 
 a member of Parliament who had married a lady of 
 fortune and kept two carriages ? It was quite out of 
 the question : therefore the amiable widow determined 
 to know nothing about the vicinity of the Bassets, 
 and always took her morning drives in an opposite^ 
 direction. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 189 
 
 At length, however, her mind received a new bias 
 
 om the sensation produced by the appearance of 
 
 Ir. Eobertson's new curate, and she began to think 
 
 t was the duty of all good Christians to afford the 
 
 ght of their countenance to friends in adversity. 
 
 nder the influence of these kindly feelings, she said 
 
 ne morning to her niece, — 
 
 •' Alice, 1 shall go and call on the Bassets to-day. 
 
 oor dear girls ! I am really grieved to think they 
 
 hould be immersed (perhaps she meant immured) in 
 
 that lonely place. I must bring them out, and let them 
 
 Kee a little society — it will be a charity." 
 " Oh ! I shall be so glad to see Miss Basset again," 
 xclaimed Alice, her plain face lighted up with joyful 
 uq^rise, " But I thought, ma'am, you said you could 
 
 not introduce them to Lady Isherwood because " 
 
 " You thought indeed ! " interrupted the lady, con- 
 temptuously ; " and what signifies what you thought, 
 should like to know? I wish you would not be 
 quite so fond of thinking, and recollect that it is 
 ime enough for you to give your opinion when it is 
 sked." 
 
 .- The humble companion received this rebuke in 
 IBiilence, like one accustomed to such indignities, and 
 IAs she went on with her stitching there were no signs 
 IB>f emotion visible in her countenance to indicate 
 l^hether her silence proceeded from apathetic in- 
 difference, a meek spirit, or a philosophic resolution 
 Mo submit with patient endurance to the ills for which 
 ■liere was no remedy. For a few moments she 
 ipcherished a vain hope that she might be ordered to 
 attend her aunt upon this expedition, for Mrs. Heavi- 
 ^side had no objection to parading before the eyes of 
 he admiring world, one who was considered as the 
 bject of her benevolence ; but on this occasion she 
 chose to go alone, and poor Alice was disappointed. 
 
 The visit of the widow caused more surprise than 
 pleasure at Bridge House, for the Bassets had very 
 good reasons for believing that she had known for a 
 
 ■fs 
 
190 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 long time that they were in the neighhourhood, and 
 as she had not taken the sUghtest notice of thent 
 since the event of the fire, they did not know how to 
 account for this sudden outburst of friendship, nor 
 did they respond to it quite so warmly as they might 
 have done if it had come before ; but the foir visitor, 
 nothing daunted by the somewhat cool reception she 
 met with, took great pains to make herself agi^eeable, 
 and did not altogether fail in her object. 
 
 "You really must come and see me, my dears," she 
 said ; " and your dear papa too — I am so sori^ he is not 
 at home. By the way, I am told your brother is ap- 
 j)ointed curate of the new church. I go to St. John's 
 myself, it is so m.uch nearer ; but I shall be delighted 
 to show him any attention for your sakes, so you 
 positively must bring him with 3''ou when you come. 
 That is the brother I have never seen, you know." 
 
 The lady forgot perhaps at that moment that she 
 went to the new church on the preceding Sunday, 
 purposely to take a suiwey of Mr. Norman Basset 
 before she committed herself so far as to pay a visit 
 to his family ; at any rate she made no mention of 
 that circumstance, nor had the sisters the least idea 
 that they were indebted to Norman's powerful attrac- 
 tions for the extraordinary^ civilities thus unexpectedly 
 lavished upon them. 
 
 Now it is not to be supposed that Mrs. Heaviside, 
 who had scarcely seen fifty summers, and did not con- 
 fess to more than two-thirds of that number ; who, 
 moreover, possessed a handsome competence and as 
 many personal charms as money could purchase, in 
 addition to those nature had given her, — it is not to be 
 supposed, for an instant, that she could be at a loss for 
 admirers, or would have the least difficulty in finding 
 a successor to her late lord. But she was perfectly 
 aware of her advantages, and not at all disposed to 
 •' cast pearls before swine." 
 
 There was the tall Irish artist who lodged at a, 
 farm-house in the neighbourhood ; he had made 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 191 
 
 etch of her dwelling, introducing into his picture a 
 
 ry flattering representation of herself walking on 
 
 e lawn ; and having sent this with his respectful 
 
 mpliments, he presumed on its acceptance to call 
 
 ccasionally ; but then he was an awkward, shambling 
 
 erson, and had small, weak eyes, consequently was 
 
 ot a proper hero for her life's romance, which was 
 
 only just beginning. 
 
 Then there was young Thorn, the sporting son of 
 old Justice Thorn ; but he was a boisterous horse 
 ckey, far more at home in a stable than in a lady's 
 [Oudoir — so he would not do. 
 The grave, learned Dr. Hinchcliffe, with his formal 
 ig and gold-headed cane, had tried his lowest bow, 
 d made his most elaborate complimentary speeches 
 vain ; and the fat, rosy churchwarden, with his two 
 ,t, rosy children, had done his best to make himself 
 reeable, without producing the slighest effect on the 
 idow's heart. But Norman was a hero of a different 
 ould, and she was decidedly of opinion that such 
 ■Justrous eyes as those would look remarkably well in 
 Hier own drawing-room. 
 
 Before she took her departure from Bridge House, 
 
 erefore, she insisted on Emily promising to spend 
 
 the following week with her, which she was by no 
 
 means unwilling to do ; but Claudia declined making 
 
 any engagement for herself, as she said she did not 
 
 ke to leave her father for a whole day, and he was 
 
 o much out of health at present to accept any in- 
 
 tations. 
 
192 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " Do you know I am going on a long visit to An- 
 dover ? " said Emily to Freshfield Ray. 
 
 " A long visit — when ? Who are you going to 
 visit ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Heaviside ; she is an old friend of ours, and 
 has been here this morning to invite me." 
 
 " Indeed ! How is it then I have never heard of 
 her till now as a friend of yours— she has not been 
 here before, has she ? " 
 
 -No." 
 
 "And what has brought her now, do you suppose?" 
 
 " Oh ! 1 don't know. We have known her a long 
 time ; she used to visit us in London." 
 
 " Yet you have been here some months, and she has 
 never paid you a visit till to-day. That seems to me 
 rather strange." 
 
 ^' Well, Claudia and I were a little surprised to see 
 her, certainly. Do you know her ? " 
 
 *' I know something of her, Miss Emily, and I do 
 not believe her friendship is to be depended upon." 
 
 " That is of no great consequence," replied Emily, 
 laughing; '* we shall have no occasion to put it to th<i 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 193 
 
 U'oof I dare say ; she sees'^'ery good society I fancy, 
 tnd it may be pleasant for Norman." 
 
 "For Norman!" eclioed Freshfield. "Oh, now I 
 »egin to see — so, Norman is invited too, is he ? " 
 
 " For shame, Mi*. Kay ; I did not tliink you were 
 so uncharitable." 
 
 " I hope you will never have reason to think me 
 mcharitable, Miss Emily. When are you going, may 
 " ask ? " 
 
 " The day after to-morrow." 
 
 " So soon? And what is to become of me while 
 jo\i are away ? " 
 
 " Become of you ! What has my being away to do 
 ^th that, I wonder." 
 
 "A great deal — everything. And you know it, 
 Imily; you know tliat all my happiness depends on 
 rou." 
 
 " I do not know it, Mr. Ray," said Emily, blushing 
 eeply, and casting her eyes on the ground ; but she 
 id not withdraw the hand he had taken in his. 
 
 " Then I tell you so now, dear, dear Emily. And 
 
 beg, I entreat you will be candid with me. I know 
 
 ny OAvn deficiencies — I am conscious how rude and 
 
 npolished I must appear to one brought up as you 
 
 ave been — but I am sincere ; and when I say that I 
 
 ve you fondly and truly, indeed you may be- 
 
 eve me." 
 
 Emily was confused and agitated by this avowal, 
 -Ithough it was not wholly unexpected, and in her 
 ecret heart she was not at all displeased; yet she 
 esitated to give so decided an answer as he desired, 
 ^ and the most he could obtain was a promise that she 
 
 tv^ould think about it, and let him know her sentiments 
 >n her return. However, he seemed veiy well satis- 
 ied with the result of his declaration, expressing his 
 hanks with all the ardour and gratitude of an ac- 
 cepted lover ; and when she reminded him that he 
 was not justified in making quite so sure of a favour- 
 able answer, he replied as none but accepted lovers 
 
 13 
 
194 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 are privileged to reply, a mode of speech which 
 caused a few more blushes, but no particular demon- 
 strations of anger. Freshfield was in the highest 
 spirits all that evening, which Claudia was at a loss 
 to account for until the mystery was explained by 
 Emily as they were retiring to rest, who related all 
 that had passed in the morning, to which her sister 
 gave a joyful and attentive ear. It was one of the 
 dearest wishes of her heart to see Emily united to 
 such a man as Freshfield Ray, who was so eminently 
 qualified to be her guide, her friend, and her protector, 
 and she affectionately congratulated her on having 
 gained the regard of one so truly estimable. 
 
 " But I have not made up my mind to have him 
 yet, Claudy. Perhaps I may see somebody at Andover 
 that I shall like better." 
 
 i " Pray do not trifle with him, Emily," said Claudia, 
 seriously, for she knew that Emily was rather fond of 
 a little flirtation when she had the opportunity ; " for, 
 kind and good as he is, he would not bear it." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! when a man is in love, he will 
 bear anything." 
 
 " That is a great mistake, dear — I know enough of 
 his character from Mr. Ingleby, to feel sure that any- 
 thing like coquetry would excite his contempt. You 
 like Mr, Pay, Emmy, I have seen it for some time, 
 and I am very glad of it : he is a man calculated to 
 make you very happy, and will do so I have no doubt ; 
 but you must treat him as he deserves to be treated, 
 and not give him reason to suppose that you are vain 
 and frivolous, as I am afraid you are inclined to be 
 by what you said just now." 
 
 " Why, what did I say ? " 
 
 " That you might see somebody at Andover you 
 would like better. Do not let Mr. Ray hear you say 
 such foolish things as that." 
 
 Emily laughed, and said she would be veiy careful. 
 
 " But how is it, Claudy, that you and Mr. Ingleby 
 are on such confidential terms ? Is the old gentle- 
 
 I 
 
^-=: 
 
 THE BROTHERS 13 ASSET. 195 
 
 man in the same unforUmate predicament as Fresh- 
 field?" 
 
 Claudia coloured a little, and laughed. 
 "If he is," she said, "he has never said a single 
 word to me ahout it." 
 
 "Oh! that is nothing — Freshfield never said a 
 single word to me about it till this morning, and yet 
 I have known it perfectly well for this long time." 
 
 " That may be, Emmy ; but with regard to Mr. 
 Ingleby, I do not think there is anything to know." 
 
 " How should you like him for a husband, 
 Claudia?" 
 
 " Indeed, I have never asked myself the question, 
 for it would be a very useless one — if I see you hap- 
 pily married, Emmy, I shall be quite contented. 
 Good night, darling — remember what I have said, 
 and if you are wuse and prudent, I feel assured you 
 _have a life of happiness before you." 
 ~ The next day, Freshfield sought in vain to renew 
 le subject, for Emily contrived to be very busy with 
 ler preparations for the approaching visit, and would 
 lot give him the opportunity he wanted. However, 
 le found a moment to say, — 
 " Emily, may I speak to your father?" 
 " Not till I have made up my own mind." 
 "And have you not done so?" 
 " No, certainly — I told you, I should take a week to 
 Sonsider." 
 
 And so saying, she snatched her hand from his and 
 jscaped up the stairs. 
 
 Freshfield was uneasy. " Can this be coquetry," he 
 jaid to himself; " or is she really undecided?" 
 
 And in either case there was sufficient cause of 
 mxiety, for, like all men of real worth, he was diffi- 
 lent of his own powers of pleasing, and tormented 
 himself with a thousand groundless fears. Early on 
 the following morning, Mrs. Heaviside's carriage came 
 for Emily, and as her lover handed her into it, he 
 said, — 
 
196 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 " I shall think it an age till you return ; " to \vhich 
 she answered mischievously, — ■ 
 
 " Yet I dare say the time will seem short enough 
 to me." 
 
 Mrs. Heaviside received her with such exaggerated 
 expressions of affection, that anybody might well have 
 wondered how she had contrived to exist so long 
 without the society of one so dear to her, but Mr. 
 Ray's obseiwation with regard to Norman had thrown 
 a light upon the matter which was not lost on Emily, 
 although she had accused him of a lack of charity. 
 However, she was in a frame of mind to be pleased 
 with everything, and there is more in that than most 
 of us are aware of, for we often fret and grumble over 
 circumstances, calling them adverse and untoward 
 when it is in reality our own minds that are at fault. 
 Mrs. Heaviside had despatched a note to Norman 
 Basset, informing him that his sister had been so 
 very kind as to j^romise to spend a few days with her, 
 and requesting that she might have the pleasure of 
 his company at dinner on the Friday, to meet Sir 
 Thomas and Lady Isherwood, to whom she wished to 
 introduce Miss Emily Basset. Norman had returned 
 a very polite answer, accepting the invitation, and the 
 \^ idow was consequently in the best possible humour : 
 she shone all smiles, her visitor was caressed and 
 flattered, and even poor Miss Compton was treated 
 with more than ordinary favour, for, to her apparent 
 astonishment, her aunt condescended to sav, — 
 
 " Really Alice, my dear, you have trimmed that cap 
 admirably." 
 
 " I am glad you like it, ma'am," responded Alice ; 
 but although she was totally unaccustomed to be 
 called " my dear," and her looks plainly showed that 
 she was so, she manifested no particular signs of 
 pleasure at the uuAvonted epithet. 
 
 " It really is very pretty, Miss Compton," said 
 Emily. " Mrs. Heaviside ought to think herself for 
 tun ate in having you for her milliner. If I had anyj 
 
TtlB fil^OTHERS BASSE'f. 197 
 
 I 
 
 Body to make caps for, I should ask you to give me a 
 
 Hsson." 
 
 H ''I'm sure I should be delighted to teach 'you any- 
 
 Iroing I know," said Alice, with sudden animation of 
 voice and manner; and she looked at Emily with the 
 bright smile that at times, though very rarely, illu- 
 mined her countenance, making it almost handsome, 
 m spite of the liomeliness of her features. 
 
 n On the first day of Emily's sojourn at Mrs. Heavi- 
 side's, some ladies who resided in the town came to 
 tea by invitation, and the popularity of Norman dis- 
 played itself on this occasion by the civilities heaped 
 upon his sister, who was in a state of siege the whole 
 evening, each lady being anxious to secure the first 
 place in her friendship, and holding out all sorts of 
 allurements to attract her to their respective houses or 
 apartments, as the case might be. One was doing 
 the sweetest pattern in Berlin wool that was ever seen ; 
 another had a new duet that she should like so much 
 to tiy witli her, while a third would be delighted to 
 show her how to make wax-flowers. In short every 
 one seemed possessed with the desire of doing some- 
 thing very obliging, and the great difiiculty was to 
 oid being overwhelmed with favours. Old Dr. 
 inchcliffe came in too, in the course of the evening, 
 t he had fallen many degrees in the estimation of 
 e company present, his dull light being totally 
 'clipsed by the bright luminary that had lately ap- 
 j)eared. The next moniing, Norman hiuiself called, 
 and as Mrs. Heaviside had foreseen the probability of 
 his doing so, she had put on her most becoming morn- 
 ing gown and cap, and received him with the most 
 
 [Blattering smiles and compliments. He did not stay 
 
 ■■lany minutes, having to attend a vestry meeting, but 
 as the following day was that fixed for the dinner- 
 party the lady consoled herself for the brevity of this 
 visit by looking forward to the morrow, and went out 
 with Emily to make some morning calls, after which 
 they took a drive into the open country. 
 
198 THii BllOTIlERS BASSET, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " Man appoints, and fate disappoints," saitli the old 
 proverb, in which the word man is no doubt intended 
 to be taken in a collective sense, as implying the hu- 
 man race in general, for everybody must know that at 
 least nine-tenths of the disappointment parcelled out 
 amongst mankind falls to the lot of the feminine por- 
 tion of the species, and the proverb might often be 
 rendered thus, " Woman appoints, and man disap- 
 points," as Mrs. Heaviside was destined to experience 
 on that unlucky Friday which deceitfully dawned 
 upon her with the brightest promise. But it is thus 
 the buds of hopes are blighted just when they seem 
 bursting into blossom. It is thus the cup of happi- 
 ness falls from the hand at the very moment the lip 
 
 touches its brim — it is thus In short, there are a 
 
 great number of similes equally new and edifying, to 
 which Mrs. Heaviside's disappointment might be 
 likened, if one were inclined to tax one's memorv for 
 the same ; but it may be asked. Why did she give 
 her party on a Friday ? Why did she fix upon a day of 
 such ill omen for commencing the siege of the 
 curate's heart? What was she to expect from this opei 
 defiance, or at least imprudent negligence of the ol( 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET.. 199 
 
 established rule respecting that inauspicious day, but 
 ^ complete failure ? Who ever heard of anything suc- 
 ceeding that was begun on a Friday ? Who, having 
 ■tt'rived at the conclusion of a great work at that un- 
 lucky period of the week, would not put off the finish- 
 H3g stroke till the following day? Norman had 
 ^ined with Mr. Eobertson on the Thursday, for the 
 
 Iector had become very fond of his company, and it 
 ms nearly eleven o'clock when he reached home. 
 " There's a parcel and a letter come for 'you, sir," 
 aid the girl, with a smirk on her face which he did 
 lot notice ; but taking a light from her hand went 
 lito his own sitting-room, where he found both letter 
 and parcel lying on the table. 
 
 The packet was carefully tied up and sealed at both 
 ends, with an emblematical device representing a 
 winged heart flying over a barrier, on which was in- 
 scribed the word " Prudence." Norman smiled 
 slightly, but there was more of pity than of pleasure 
 Hh his smile; of pity approaching to contempt, for 
 this was not the first offering of the kind he had 
 received, and he would willingly have dispensed with 
 such favours. The parcel contained a pair of slippers, 
 very beautifully embroidered on cloth with silk and 
 
 I old thread, and these were accompanied by a sheet 
 f pink embossed paper, on which were written in a 
 mall, but not very elegant hand, the following touch- 
 ing lines : — 
 
 I 
 
 " Oh 1 wear tlie gift I've worked for tliee ; 
 I oiFer it at friendship's shrine, 
 Although unworthy it may he 
 
 Of one hoth charming and divine*' 
 
 IB •' It is a pity when women have so little delicacy," 
 
 Hie said to himself, throwing down the paper, after 
 
 Bglancing his eye carelessly over it, and scarcely 
 
 bestowing a look upon the splendid offering that 
 
 must have cost the votary of friendship a vast deal of 
 
 time and trouble, to say nothing of the expense ; and 
 
200 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 he then opened the other note, which interested him 
 far more deeply than the poetical effusion that had 
 ehcited so un gallant an ohserv'ation, for it was from 
 his sister Claudia, and its contents -were so unex- 
 pected, that, if he had accidentally touched an electric 
 wire, the effect could not have been more startling 
 than that produced by these few hurried lines : — 
 
 " Dear Norman, — 
 
 " I have just received a letter from Florence Gil- 
 mour, which has surprised and grieved me more than 
 I can express. I have not time to tell you the full 
 particulars, but the substance is this — she has refused 
 Captain Homer, and her father has entirely discarded 
 her in consequence, and gone to India, leaving her so 
 scantily provided for that she is under the necessity 
 of taking pupils, and is, at present, very uncomfort- 
 ably situated. Papa and J both think of asking her 
 to come and live with us ; but we wish to have your 
 opinion about it before we make the proposal. Let 
 us see or hear from you as soon as possible. 
 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Claudia." 
 
 Norman read this note several times before he 
 coiild credit the evidence of his own senses. Florence 
 deserted — poor — almost friendless — teaching for her 
 maintenance! — Could these things really be? His 
 first feelings were of sorrow for her, and indigna- 
 tion against the unnatural parent who had forsaken 
 such a daughter for such a cause ; but with these 
 came other thoughts, for what might not his own 
 hopes be from this change in her prospects ? The 
 seemingly impassable bai-rier that had subsisted 
 between them w^as suddenly and rudely broken down 
 by the very hand that alone could either ujDhold or 
 remove it, and a vision of happiness floated indis- 
 tinctly before him, like the shadowy outline which the 
 artist's imagination invests with all the glowing tints 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 201 
 
 l._._, „,.„.. 
 
 lialf-formed, colourless sketch. Then he blamed him- 
 
 Ielf for selfishness in creating joyful images out of 
 ircumstances so lamentable and so distressing to her 
 rhose happiness was infinitely dearer to him than his 
 —own ; and if it had rested with him to restore her to 
 Bier own proper station by any self-sacrifice, he would 
 Hiot have hesitated for one moment between her 
 ■nterest and his own wishes ; but it was not so — ^lie 
 fiad not the power to remedy the ills she was called 
 upon to bear, and in this conviction he scarcely knew 
 lyvhether painful or pleasurable feelings were the most 
 predominant. His first anxiety, however, was to learn 
 iMjBore of the circumstances, and if it had not been so 
 ™ate he would certainly have taken a horse, and gal- 
 opped over to Bridge House without a moment's 
 elay; but, as it was past eleven o'clock, he was 
 bliged to restrain his impatience as well as he could, 
 d it required some efi'ort, for he had two marriages 
 solemnise on the morrow, and a funeral service to 
 erform in the afternoon, so that he would not be at 
 iberty till about four o'clock, and he was engaged to 
 ine with IMrs. Heaviside at five. On Saturday he 
 new that eveiy hour would be occupied, and as to 
 aiting till Monday, it was impossible; tlierefore he 
 esolved to break his engagement with the widow on 
 a plea of urgent business that required his presence 
 ■elsewhere, and in the morning he wrote a polite note 
 Ho that efi'ect, but did not send it till the middle of the 
 ■lay. It was past six o'clock when Norman reached 
 ^^feridge House, where he found his father and sister 
 taking tea, and talking over the affair that had brought 
 him there. 
 
 f *• Dear Norman," said Claudia, *' I am so glad 
 you are come — I scarcely expected to see you so 
 
 soon." 
 
 " And I ought not to be here, Claudia ; for I was 
 engaged to dine with Mrs. Heaviside to-day. How 
 do you do, sir ? I am afraid these cold winds are not 
 
203 THE BKOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 very favourable for your cough," he continued, as he 
 shook hands with his father. 
 
 " I am pretty well, Norman ; as well, I suppose, as 
 I ever shall be. But what made you disappoint the 
 widow? That is a pity." 
 
 " Why, if I had not come to-day, I might not have 
 had another opportunity for some time ; and Claudia 
 said you wished to see me as soon as possible." 
 
 " Yes, but there was no such very great hurry 
 about it. We want to consult you as to what we can 
 do for this poor young lady, Miss Gilmour. You 
 know what has happened, I suppose?" 
 
 " I only know what Claudia told me in her note. 
 Miss Gilmour's father, it seems, has left her, and 
 gone abroad ; but I have not heard any of the par- 
 ticulars." 
 
 " You shall see her letter presently," said Claudia, 
 " but you must have some tea first." 
 
 " I can read the letter while I drink my tea," 
 suggested Norman, who cared very little about the tea 
 and veiy much about the letter; but, in order to 
 account for his impatience, he added, " it will save 
 time, and I have not much to spare." 
 
 " Very well, dear — I will get it for you directly. 
 But how will you make your peace with Mrs. 
 Heaviside?" 
 
 " I sent a note this morning to excuse myself; and, 
 to tell you the truth, I am not particularly anxious on 
 that score." 
 
 " I should be very sorry if you were, m}"- dear boy," 
 said his father, " for she is about as silly a woman as 
 I know ; and I should not like to see a son of mine, 
 • — that is — "and he corrected the expression with a 
 profound sigh — " that is, I should not like to see my 
 son linked to such a frivolous person." 
 
 " I have no pretensions that way, I assure you, 
 sir," answered Norman, laughing; •' and now I think 
 of it, Mrs. Robertson gave much the same sort of ^ 
 opinion about her yesterday, but I thought it might] 
 
r 
 
 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 203 
 
 be prejudice, and paid no attention to it. So Major 
 ■Bilmour is gone to -India? Does he say it is his 
 Hptention to remain there?" 
 
 H "He has not made his intentions known— at 
 Htast it appears so, from his daughter's letter." 
 H " And wliat do you think of his conduct, sir?" 
 H " I think it extremely cruel — cruel and tyrannical 
 IRi the highest degree. But he is a proud, selfish, un- 
 , feeling man. I never thought Arthur Gilmour would 
 
 I lave been what he now is. However, it matters little 
 ks far as he is concerned ; but we must take care of 
 he young lady for your poor mother's sake, Nor- 
 nan; the Gilmours were the only relations she had 
 eft." 
 
 " And what proposition do you think of making, 
 ir? Miss Gilmour will never consent, I am sure, to 
 become a burthen upon you." 
 
 *' Nor will it be necessary; there is something, fifty 
 ounds a year or so, left her by her uncle ; she may 
 ve here very well upon that, in our plain fashion, 
 ithout putting me to any expense, and she would 
 ertainly be more comfortable than amongst strangers, 
 oor thing ! Now, what I w^ant to know is, whether 
 ou see any objection to this plan 1" 
 
 " Not the least, sir ; it is the very thing I should 
 ave advised. Where is she?" 
 
 "At Newbury," said Claudia; "but this will tell 
 oil all about it." And she put into his hand Flo- 
 ence's letter, which gave a circumstantial account of 
 ,11 that had taken place since she left Hampshire, 
 Suppressing only one fact, the existence of an illegi- 
 timate daughter. Norman read it with profound 
 attention, and while he was thus engaged his father 
 ent into the farm for Freshfield Kay, who, he said, 
 ould be vexed if he did not see Norman before he 
 ent, and thus the brother and sister were left at 
 iberty to converse with each other without reserve. 
 
 "Claudia," said Norman, "what is your opinion 
 of this — do you think she will come ? " 
 
20-i THE BROTH EBS BASSET. 
 
 •• I have some doubts about it, clear, for she has too 
 high a spirit to submit to anything hke hving in a 
 state of dependence, and it may be difficult to con- 
 vince her that it would not be so." 
 
 " You have no other doubts about it, then ?" 
 " None whatever ; I think slie would like to be 
 with us better than anywhere else." 
 
 '* You will not delay writing, I suppose ?" 
 " No, certainly, — I shall write to-morrow ; I only 
 waited to see vou." 
 
 V 
 
 *' Then, let me know the moment you receive an 
 answer; it will probably be on Tuesday morning, 
 and you can send off that boy of Eay's immediately, 
 without waiting for his going home in tlie even- 
 ing. I will pay him for the loss of his day's 
 work." 
 
 She looked at him with some surprise. 
 
 " You feel more than a friendly interest in this, 
 Norman. Is it not so ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is so ; but only to you, Claudia, shall I 
 say so much. Will you let me take this letter ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you wish it. And suppose Florence should 
 decline our offer?" 
 
 " In that case we must urge it more strongly — she 
 must accept it. It may be presum2:)tion, Claudia, but 
 I have sometimes thought that if circumstances had 
 been no bar, I might have gained an mterest in her 
 heart." 
 
 " I have thought so too, Norman ; but I was not 
 sure that you had the desire to do so " 
 
 " Nor had I, so long as it miglit have led to what 
 has now occurred. Thank God ! I have not been the 
 cause of it." 
 
 " Ah ! I see it all now. That was then the reason 
 why you secluded yourself while she was staying 
 here." 
 
 "It was so. I feared to trust myself; and I be- 
 lieve, to this hour she has no suspicion that I have 
 any particular regai'd for her. Here come my father] 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 205 
 
 and Freslifield. Do not betray my secret, Claudia, 
 
 and remember your promise." 
 ^ " You may trust me on both these points, dear ; 
 "our secret is safe till you choose to make it known 
 
 yourself, and I will send to you as soon as I receive 
 
 an answer to the letter I shall write to-morrow." 
 
 L 
 
206 THE BEOTHERS^ BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The answer from Florence Gilmour was exactly such 
 as Claudia had anticipated, full of gratitude and af- 
 fection, yet positively declining the offer of a home 
 she did not think she should he justified in accepting. 
 " Why should I he an incumbrance to my friends," 
 said she, *' so long as I am able to support myself? I 
 know what you would say to this, dear Claudia, but 
 your kindness cannot alter the truth, although it may 
 gloss it over ; and, believe me, I do not find this kind 
 of life so hard to bear as I should have thought it 
 would be. It seems to me that if I could lose all 
 remembrance of the past, and be conscious only of 
 the present, there is, in reality, no cause for unhap- 
 piness in the mere fact of having to occupy myself 
 profitably for a few hours every day, and I feel quite 
 reconciled to it, when I consider how much more 
 useful a person I am now in the world than ever I 
 was before. Do you remember a conversation we 
 once had on the subject of a reverse of fortune? 
 You then said I had not been tried. I little thought 
 how soon the trial was to come ; but now that it has 
 come, I find I was not mistaken in the opinions I ex; 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 207 
 
 L, „. „ ... ,. 
 
 Hie but little uneasiness, for I look upon it as the 
 Hieans by which I have avoided a much worse evil ; 
 Brnd, viewing it in this light, it really seems no hard- 
 ship. But it is hard, Claudia, — and this is a trouble 
 l^ou have never experienced, — to lose a parent's love, 
 or rather to discover that you never possessed it ; for, 
 surely, if my father had ever loved me, he could not 
 thus suddenly, and for so little cause, have left me in 
 l^iis cruel manner. There is one circumstance which 
 '^ cannot explain by letter that in some measure ac- 
 l^ounts for why I have been so little cared for. I 
 IRnust reserve it till we meet. And oh ! how delightful 
 it is to me to know that we shall meet, for I do mean 
 lllo visit you at Christmas, as my pupils will take holi- 
 days, and I shall be at liberty for a few days. When 
 I am melancholy, I look forward to this pleasure to 
 revive my spirits, and it never fails." 
 ■K In one part of the letter she spoke of her inten- 
 '^ion to leave the Owens almost immediately, having 
 heard of a more agreeable family in Newbury, vv^here 
 she would be received on the same terms ; and to 
 is she added, with a touch of her natural vivacity, — 
 " And if I should not be able to fraternize with the 
 ew people, I will have two nice little rooms of my 
 wn, live in solitary state, and take to writing poetry." 
 In another place she said, — 
 
 " I sometimes ask myself whether it is possible I can 
 e the sanie person I was a few weeks ago ; for, when 
 ^ I put on my bonnet in the morning to go out to my 
 PRaily task, it seems as natural to me as if I had al- 
 ways been accustomed to it, which is a proof how 
 very soon use reconciles us to anything, and how 
 little there is in being a step higher or lower in the 
 world, while we still have friends to love, and bright 
 ■^ hours in prospect." 
 
 m Throughout this long epistle the name of Norman 
 HP^as never once mentioned, nor the slightest allusion 
 K made to him ; but it contained many grateful and af- 
 
 I 
 
SOS THE BEOTHEES BASSET." 
 
 fectionate messages both to Mr. Basset and to Emily, 
 especially the former, of whom she said, — 
 
 " I feel his kindness more than I can possibly ex- 
 press, and tell him that it is my greatest consolation 
 to know that I have such a friend to look up to for 
 protection in case of need, and that I should not 
 hesitate to do so." 
 
 True to her promise, Claudia sent off this letter 
 without delay to Andover by the Mercury who had 
 raised so many false rumours with regard to Norman, 
 and was frequently charged with letters and messages 
 for "the parson" as he familiarly styled him. It 
 happened to be the day fixed for Emily's return, and 
 Mrs, Heaviside proposed to go with her in the hope, 
 she said, of prevailing on Claudia to come to Andover 
 for a few days, and of course Emily could make no 
 objection, although she Imew her sister would decline 
 the invitation; but Mrs. Heaviside had another ob- 
 ject in view which did not altogether fail, for in pass- 
 ing Norman's lodgings she said, as if the idea had 
 only that moment struck her, — • 
 
 " Would you not like to call and say, ' Good bye ' 
 to your brother, my deai'? Pie may have some mes- 
 sage to send." 
 
 Emily assented, and the carriage was stopped. 
 Norman was at that moment reading Florence Gil- 
 mour's letter, which so entirely absorbed his attention 
 that he heard neither the loud knocking at the door 
 that announced carriage visitors, nor the footsteps on 
 the stairs that indicated the visit was to himself. 
 
 " Please, sir, two ladies want to speak to you," said 
 the servant, opening the door only just wide enough 
 to put her head in, as if she was determined to guard 
 the gentleman against a sudden surprise. 
 
 " Well, show them in," he replied, veiy much an- 
 noyed, both at the interruption and the impolite mode 
 of introduction adopted by the uncourtly hand- 
 maiden. Fortunately his evident vexation was all 
 attributed to the latter cause, and as be speedily 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 209 
 
 ecovered his self-possession, it passed off very 
 
 ell. 
 
 " For goodness' sake, Norman," said Emily, when 
 he had ceased laughing, " do teach that girl to an- 
 
 ounce visitors in a more elegant manner ; it "will 
 
 ke me a week to get over it." 
 
 " Really, Emmy, I cannot undertake to instruct the 
 
 ampshire damsels in politeness, and as I am very 
 eldom honoured with the visits of ladies, it is not of 
 
 uch importance, and I hope on this occasion it will 
 e pardoned." And he bowed to the blushing widow 
 s "he spoke. 
 
 *' Oh ! certainly, Mr. Basset; for my part I delight 
 
 n those unsophisticated manners. But we must 
 
 tell you why we have broken in upon your ' lonely 
 
 ~ ower.' This dear girl persists in leaving me to-day, 
 
 d is come to say adieu, and to ask if you have any 
 ommands for home." 
 
 " None, I thank you, for I intend to walk over 
 
 yself presently to my father's. It is too long a walk . 
 
 r you, I suppose, Emily ? " 
 
 *' But why should you walk, Mr. Basset ? " said 
 Mrs. Heaviside, eagerly. " Pray let us have the 
 
 tleasure of your company ; there is plenty of room in 
 i( 
 ei 
 
 le carnage." 
 
 " Oh ! you are veiy good." 
 
 "Do, Norman," said Emily; "riding is much 
 etter than walking, and good company is better 
 ^lian no company at all." 
 
 K " That is an unanswerable argument I confess. 
 Hire you going directly?" 
 H *' Yes ; we called here on our way." - 
 
 H " Then, if you can wait ten minutes " 
 
 H *' We can wait any time," interrupted the widow, 
 Ball smiles and flutter' at the thoughts of bliss so 
 tmexpected ; and Norman withdrew to the adjoining 
 apartment, ostensibly with a view to make some little 
 alteration in his dress, but, in reality, to finish 
 the perusal of the interesting letter he had hastily 
 
 14 
 
210 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 put into Ills pocket, before the ladies entered the 
 room. 
 
 During the ride his absence of mind was so re- 
 markable, that his companions could not help noticing 
 it, especially as, more than once, he gave answers 
 quite irrelevant to the questions asked ; and when made 
 aware of his error, laughed, coloured, and made the 
 matter a great deal worse by trying to mend it. 
 
 Now all these symptoms of mental disturbance 
 Mrs. Heaviside set down to a cause very foreign to 
 the real one, but extremely satisfactory to herself, 
 therefore she was in the highest spirits imaginable, 
 and began to dream of white veils and orange- 
 blossoms. 
 
 He did not go to dinner on the Friday, it was true, 
 but he had called twice since, and his evident con- 
 fusion now could not be on account of his sister 
 Emily ; so that she might naturally conclude it was 
 occasioned by herself, as there was no one else 
 .present, and she could not possibly be aware of the 
 talisman he had so near his heart, it being in his left- 
 hand waistcoat pocket. Under all these circum- 
 stances nothing could be more amiable than the 
 lady's looks when she entered the parlour at Bridge 
 House, where Claudia was sitting at work, and her 
 father reading one of the periodicals. 
 
 She repeated all the flattering and obliging things 
 she had said at her former visit, adding many more 
 compliments to be placed to Mr. Basset's own private 
 account. 
 
 " You cannot think how well you look," she said. 
 " This Arcadian life has made you quite young again; 
 and such a. little paradise of a place as you have 
 here. I mean to come and see you very often I 
 assure you ; it is so charming to renew old friend- 
 ships." 
 
 Mr. Basset said he should always be very glad to 
 see her ; for what else could he say ? 
 
 "Is there anything very interesting here, sir?" 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET; Sll 
 
 quired Norman, taking up the book his father had 
 een reading. 
 " Yes, there is," Mr. Basset rephed ; " something 
 at, I dare say, would interest you very much : it is 
 veiy clever sensible article, on the subject of 
 hristian missions in India, written by a man named 
 \^illiers. I should like you to read it." 
 B " Perhaps you will let me have the book when you 
 
 have done with it ? " 
 IPt "Eay will, I dare say; it belongs to him." 
 
 " Ray ! " echoed Mrs. Heaviside. " Pray is that the 
 Hampshire giant?" 
 
 " Why, they call him so," I believe, replied Mr. 
 asset. 
 
 "Do you know him, Mrs. Heaviside?" asked 
 laudia. 
 
 "Yes, my dear — that is, I don't know much of 
 
 im ; but now I recollect, he is a near neighbour of 
 
 ours. Miss Emily did not mention that you were 
 
 n terms." 
 
 "Did I not? I suppose I forgot it," said 
 
 mily. 
 
 " By the way," said Norman, " I want to see 
 reshfield. I will just go in for a minute ; but first, 
 Claudia, I wish you would look at those last bands of 
 mine ; they don't do very well." 
 
 "Don't they, dear? What is the matter with 
 IWiem?" 
 
 M " If you come into the next room I will try them 
 ^n, and you can see." 
 
 Claudia understood the manoeuvre, and followed 
 im into the next room, where, instead of cambric 
 ands, he drew from his left-hand waistcoat pocket 
 >he paper talisman which had caused that confusion 
 f the brain, misinterpreted by the widow to her own 
 dvantage. 
 
 " I am afraid that is decisive, Norman; does it not 
 appear so to you ? " 
 
 " It is intended to be so, I have no doubt ; but we 
 
212 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 must try to overrule it. I will go to Newbury and 
 see her myself." 
 
 *' I was thinking of that. When shall you he able 
 to go?" 
 
 " To-moiTow, I hope ; hut, at any rate, I would 
 not have you write till you hear from me again ; and 
 I should not like it mentioned, even to my father, 
 till we know ; in fact, not at all, unless I succeed." 
 
 " Your rhetoric is more likely to be successful than 
 mine," replied Claudia, smiling; "nevertheless, I 
 promise not to betray trust. What are vou going to 
 Mr. Eay about?" 
 
 " Why, to say the truth, it is chiefly to get rid 
 of the necessity of riding back tete-a-tete with your 
 friend ; for I suppose you have no intention of going 
 to Andover ?" 
 
 "Not the least; so I cannot help you in that 
 difficulty." 
 
 " Then I must trust to Freshfield to get me out of 
 the scrape ; for if I were to be seen riding with 
 a marriageable lady alone, the whole town would be 
 gossipping about it." 
 
 " But what can Freshfield do?" 
 
 " I don't know ; but I dare say we shall manage it 
 between us. I shall come in again, of course, to 
 make my apologies ; " and, so saying, he went off to: | 
 the farm, while Claudia returned to the parlour. 
 
 Mrs. Heaviside did not press her invitation for that 
 day upon Claudia quite so strongly as might have 
 been expected, considering it was the chief purpose j 
 for which she came ; but she certainly took a great " 
 deal of pains to persuade her to make a promise of 
 paying an early visit to Andover, which Claudia could 
 not be prevailed upon to do. In the course of con- 
 versation, Emily said to her father, — 
 
 " We went on Sunday to the New Church to 
 hear Norman preach, and liked his sermon very 
 much." 
 
 " Ah ! I wish I could get as fai-," said Mr Basset] 
 
I 
 
 THE EROTHERS BASSET. 213 
 
 <' I must try some of these days, I think, for it would 
 
 tbe a great pleasure to me to hear him." 
 I " It would, indeed," observed the widow; " for my 
 part, I was perfectly enchanted. He is, I assure you, 
 ^iiiore eloquent tlian Diogenes." 
 
 Emily laughed, and Mr. Basset smiled, as he 
 eplied, — 
 
 "I hope so; but, perhaps, you mean Demo- 
 thenes ? " 
 
 ** Very likely," said the lady; "the names are 
 
 alike, one is apt to mistake one for the other. 
 
 ut really I was so charmed with your son in the 
 
 pulpit, that I shall give up my pew at St. John's, and 
 
 attend the New Church ; it does one so much good 
 
 fo hear an eloquent discourse. I feel quite a different 
 )eing after it. Mr. Norman Basset will do a great 
 leal of good, I am sure." 
 At this moment Norman himself re-appeared. He 
 said he was going with Mr. Bay to look at a horse he 
 thought might suit him, and that as he should return 
 Andover by another road, he would say " Good 
 norning." 
 
 "Can you come back?" said Mr. Basset. "We 
 xpect Mr. Ingleby about half-past four." 
 " Do you, sir? I am sorry I cannot stay." 
 Mrs. Heaviside looked extremely blank at this 
 unexpected disappointment, and said, — 
 ^ "I thought, Mr. Basset, I should have had the 
 ■pleasure of taking you home." 
 
 B " You are very kind, madam, but it is impossible 
 fchis morning. Permit me to thank you again for the 
 ■favour already conferred. Good morning." 
 I He then shook hands with his father, promised to 
 psee him again veiy soon ; kissed both his sisters, and 
 whispered to Claudia, in saying " Good-bye," — 
 
 " I hope you will see me the day after to-morrow; 
 but not a word till then to any one." 
 
 As soon as he was gone the widow also took her 
 leave, not at all pleased with the turn affairs had 
 
214 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 taken, for she was well aware that such opportunities 
 are never neoflected bv men who have intentions : 
 therefore it was clear Norman had no intentions ; and 
 the bUssful vision in which she had been indulging 
 for the last two hours, thus melted into empty air, 
 and with it vanished the amiable smiles that had 
 adorned her face up to the moment when she found 
 she was to return home in solitary sadness. 
 
 " I will never go to stay with her any more," said 
 Emily, as she saw the carriage turn the corner. 
 " Why not, my dear ? " 
 
 " For many reasons, papa ; but chiefly because, 
 with all her aifectation of sentiment and feeling, she 
 treats that niece of hers in a most shameful manner. 
 I would rather be the lowest servant in the house 
 than in that poor girl's place. I would indeed." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said Claudia. " I thought that was 
 the case when I saw her in town." 
 
 "You should have asked her to come here some- 
 times, Emily," said her father. 
 
 " I did, papa ; but she said it was quite out of the 
 question, and seemed absolutely afraid of my men- 
 tioning such a thing to her aunt, so I said nothing 
 about it. Oh ! by the way, I must tell you what 
 a pretty disturbance Norman created by coming here 
 last Friday, instead of dining with us. What, on 
 earth, did he come for?" 
 
 " You shall hear that presently," replied Claudia. 
 "Was Mrs. Heaviside much offended?" 
 
 " Yes, awfully. The Isherwoods were coming to 
 dinner, and some other people in the evening. She 
 pretended the party was given on my account, but I 
 could find it was for Norman, and she had such a cap 
 made for the occasion — it was wondeiful to behold. 
 If Norman had seen it, I don't know what would 
 have become of him. Well, all the morning she was 
 as amiable as possible, but when his note came, 
 I saw at once that he was to have been the lion of the 
 day, and that I was but a secondary consideration ; 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 215 
 
 tor she went into a dreadful ill-humour, which, as 
 isual, she vented upon poor Ahce Compton, who had 
 the pleasure of seeing all the trimming she had been 
 it some pains to put on the new cap torn off again, 
 lesides the delight of being violently scolded for 
 [carelessness and want of taste." 
 "And how did the party go off?" 
 " The dinner was very dull and formal. I liked 
 [the evening better ; and now be so good as to tell me 
 ^what mysterious errand it was that brought Nor- 
 man here on Friday." 
 
 This was soon explained, and all else was for 
 'a time entirely forgotten by Emily in the interest 
 excited by Florence Gilmour's altered circumstances. 
 
216 THE imOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 It was expected that Mr. Ingleby would reach Basing- 
 stoke by the four-o 'clock-train, and it wanted but a 
 quarter to five when Peggy put her head in at the 
 jDarlour-door with a look of tribulation, and beckoned 
 mysteriously to Mr. Ray, who had just returned from 
 his ride with Norman. 
 
 "What now, Peggy?" he inquired. 
 
 *' Maybe I'd better not tellee before the ladies, sir, 
 it's Uke they might be frit." 
 
 Claudia rose from her seat in evident alarm. *• If 
 anything is the matter, Peggy, pray say so at once. 
 Where is mv father?" 
 
 " Out in the field, miss — it's nothing about he ; 
 but Dick is just come in from Basingstoke, and says 
 as tliere's sad work on the railway — most all the 
 people killed." 
 
 '• Good heavens, Mr. Ingleby !" exclaimed Emily. 
 ' Ereshfield went out to speak to the boy, and re- 
 turned almost immediately. 
 
 '• I am afraid there is an accident," he said, " but it 
 may not be a very serious one. The boy is gone round 
 for my grey mare, which will take me over in no time. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 217 
 
 )o not be alarmed, Miss Basset. Let us hope there 
 not much mischief done." 
 
 But Claudia heard him not, for she had fainted. 
 
 Imily flew to her sister and supported her in her 
 
 'ms, while Freshfield procured some cold water, with 
 
 ^hich he bathed her hands and forehead, but it was 
 
 gome minutes before she recovered sufficiently to join 
 
 rith Emily in urging Freshfield to go with all speed, 
 
 ^nd either to come back directly or send to let them 
 
 know what really had happened, and whether any 
 
 jsistance could be given. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Basset came in huniedly, and 
 lid,— 
 
 " They tell me there's an accident on the railway, 
 hope to God Ingleby is safe." 
 "I am going to see what's the matter, sir," said 
 Pi-eshfield, " and will get back as fast as I can." 
 
 " I had better go with you, or follow you per- 
 haps." 
 " No, no, you stay here quietly, I shall go quicker 
 myself; it may be a false report after all. At any 
 ite, vou shallsoon know the truth — here's Dick with 
 le mare." 
 
 And so saying he nodded " adieu," and galloped off 
 the direction of Basingstoke. 
 
 The anxiety of those who remained behind was so 
 
 great that every minute seemed an hour, especially as 
 
 ■jbe view from the windows was limited by an abrupt 
 
 turn in the road to the distance of about a hundred 
 
 l^ards from the house. After the lapse of a quailer of 
 
 '^n hour, Mr. Basset took his hat and walked out for 
 
 the purpose of keeping watch at that point, but ere 
 
 he reached it a carriage turned the corner, followed 
 
 by Freshfield on his grey mare, and from the rapid 
 
 motion of the former, as well as the joyous looks of 
 
 the latter, it was clear that all was well as far as Mr. 
 
 Ingleby was concerned. 
 
 "Thank God, he is safe!" said Claudia, greatly 
 relieved, as she saw him alight from the vehicle and 
 
218 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 shake hands with her father, apparently in high 
 spirits, from the animation of his countenance and 
 manner. Mr. Ray gave his horse to the boy who was 
 waiting at the gate, and the three gentlemen walked 
 into the house together. 
 
 " Here we are, all safe and sound," said Fresh- 
 field, *' so you may call back your roses, Miss 
 Claudia ; there will be no occasion for mourning this 
 time." 
 
 *' Has there been no accident, then ? " Emily asked. 
 
 " A veiy slight one, which occasioned some delay, 
 but nobody is injured except the engine-driver, and 
 he has not sustained any very serious damage." 
 
 Claudia blushed deeply as she expressed her plea- 
 sure at seeing Mr. InglelDy unhurt, for he pressed her 
 hand so tenderly, and looked into her face so grate- 
 fully, that she suspected, not without reason, that he 
 had been told how much she had been affected by the 
 thought of his danger. It needed only this to bring 
 matters to a crisis. He had been long hesitating as 
 to whether he should or should not venture to ask 
 *' the momentous question," for men of his years are 
 not fond of committing thems§lvQS by making an 
 offer where its acceptance is doubtful ; Ijut with such 
 good reason as he now had to ,believe he was really 
 cared for by a young and beautiful girl, it was no 
 wonder he should make up his mind, though it was 
 somewhat late in the day, to take unto himself a wife. 
 On the following day Claudia s^ilght an opportunity 
 of being alone with her father, and seating herself 
 timidly by his side she put her hand in his, and laid 
 her head on his shoulder. 
 
 " Father, would it grieve you veiy much to part 
 with me ?" 
 
 " Part with you, my child — why should we part ? 
 Surely we have enough to remain all together. But 
 perhaps you are weary of this dull life and want a 
 change. Where would you go, my love ?" 
 
 ** I am not weary of living here, dear father, nor 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. S19 
 
 'ould I leave you if it would make you unhappy, for 
 
 lur happiness shall always be my first consideration ; 
 
 t suppose there Avas some one who wished to take 
 
 e from you — some one that you yourself esteem 
 try highly — do you think you could be comfortable 
 ithout me ? " 
 
 He looked in her face affectionatelyand pressed her 
 .oser to him. 
 
 " Is it Freshfield Bay, my darling?" 
 
 *' No, sir; it is not Freshfield." 
 
 " Then it must be — ^yes — I hope, I trust, it is one 
 who may be to you as a father and a husband too. Is 
 
 ISO, Claudia?" 
 She smiled, and pressing her lips to his cheek 
 'hispered "Yes." 
 " May heaven bless you, my beloved, my excellent 
 aughter. This is what I would have chosen had the 
 choice rested with me ; for all I have now on earth to 
 ish for is to see my children happily settled before 
 die. Mr. Ingleby is w-ell worthy of you, my Clau- 
 lia ; and, although it would perhaps have been better 
 
 ad he been a younger man " 
 
 " Not so, dear father, I would not have him different 
 om what he is in any respect, not even in age ; for 
 could not love him more than I do now ; and if he 
 ere a younger man, it is very possible I might have 
 eason to esteem him less." 
 "And when am I to lose you, my love ?" 
 " I do not know ; but it need not be veiy soon, 
 nd now, I have another secret to tell you, but you 
 lust not say anything about it till you are told by the 
 right person." 
 
 " Then I guess what it is ; I shall be asked to part 
 ith Emily too, I suppose." 
 "And what should you say to it, if you were?" 
 Her father did not answer immediately, but at 
 length he said, — 
 
 " It will be a trial, Claudia, to lose you both ; 
 yet I ought to be, and am, thankful that, in giving 
 
 i 
 
2 '20 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 «p the guardianship of my children, I yield it 
 to two such men as Mr. Ingleby and Freshfield 
 Ray." 
 
 *' And then Emily will be so near you, sir, it will 
 scarcely seem like parting with her ; and I shall ex- 
 pect you to spend a great deal of your time with me, 
 so you will not lose us quite. Florence, too, can live 
 amongst us ; and altogether, we shall be a very happy 
 family party." 
 
 " I trust so, my love ; God has been merciful to me 
 in my afflictions, and if it were not for the one great 
 sorrow, I should be more blest than in the brightest 
 days of my prosperity." 
 
 " Let us hope that what you allude to may not 
 always be a sorrow, dear father. Does not everything 
 seem to prove that the event we lamented as a mis- 
 fortune, was in reality a benefit? But for that, I 
 should probably have been united to one I should soon 
 have learned to despise, and might now have been 
 a most miserable wife ; Emily would never have 
 Imown Mr. Ray, who is so good, and so eminently 
 calculated to make her happy ; and how do we know 
 but that other blessings may flow from the same 
 source, unpromising as it appeared, and that the 
 sorrow you now mourn over may lead to future 
 
 " True, my child, true ; I will endeavour to think 
 so. If I could only be sure I should see him once 
 again before I die, my heart would be at rest." 
 
 In the course of the preceding evening, Freshfield 
 had, with some trouble, drawn from Emily a con- 
 fession that he was by no means a disagreeable per- 
 son in her eyes, an avowal which, of course, gave him 
 extreme delight ; but unfortunately, there was in her 
 nature a mischievous propensity to torment her lover 
 by exciting his jealousy, and in this spirit she had 
 reserved one circumstance of her sojourn at Andover, 
 until she could make it available for that unwise 
 purpose, and an opportunity soon occurred. 
 
THE bUothees basset. 221 
 
 ^ich is usually called " between the lights," and Mr. 
 Easset, who had taken his customary seat in an arm- 
 chair on one side of the fire, was contemplating with 
 pleasure the cheerful circle formed by those who 
 might now be termed his sons and daughters, when 
 Emily, taking advantage of an opportunity offered by 
 Jhe mention of Mrs. Heaviside, said, — 
 IP " Oh, Claudia, I did not tell you I met somebody I 
 knew at the party on Friday." 
 K " Who was that ?" 
 
 B '* Ensign Claverton — his regiment is at Winchester 
 B-he came with the Selwyns, and wore his uniform ; 
 Bou cannot think liow handsome he looked." 
 BFreshfield bit his lips, put his hands in his pockets 
 Bnd leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes intently 
 
 on the fire. 
 IB "Ensign Claverton," repeated Mr. Basset; "who 
 is he, Emily ? I do not remember ever hearing his 
 ame before." 
 
 " He came one night to Kensington, papa." 
 =' Ah ! I remember," said her father with a sigh, for 
 e mention of that night brought to his mind a train 
 if melancholy recollections ; and Claudia was vexed 
 t her sister's thoughtlessness in saying anything to 
 ring back such painful reminiscences. 
 " Did he remember you ?" she asked. 
 "Yes, indeed, and declared he was dehghted to 
 leet me again. W^e sang duets together — ^he sings 
 ivinely." 
 Freshfield pushed his chair a little further back ; he 
 looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. 
 
 Claudia perceived his uneasiness, and in order to 
 divert his attention from the cause of it, began to 
 talk of Major Gilmour, and of Florence's unprotected 
 situation ; but he did not recover his spirits the whole 
 evening, and Emily would not take the slightest pains 
 to heal the wound she had made, being rather amused 
 
222 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 than otherwise at the effect produced by what she 
 called a mere trifle. Claudia, as soon as they were 
 alone, endeavoured, hut in vain, to convince her of 
 the folly and danger of such experiments, hut she 
 only laughed, and said he had a shocking jealous 
 temper, and she was determined to cure him of it. 
 
THE BEOTHERS BASSET. S23 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Florence had finished her task for the day, and was 
 walking slowly, in deep meditation towards her un- 
 comfortable dwelling, her thoughts far away from 
 Newbury and all its disagreeable associations, when 
 she was startled by the sound of her own name pro- 
 nounced in a voice that made her heart beat more 
 quickly, and restored in a moment the bright crimson 
 hue that had lately forsaken her cheeks. 
 
 "Norman!" she exclaimed joyfully, looking round 
 
 as he came to her side, and, however free he might 
 
 be from the vanity that so often misleads many men, 
 
 he could not be wholly insensible to the evidence 
 
 given in his favour by sparkling eyes, heightened 
 
 colour, and visible emotion ; neither did it escape his 
 
 -jObservation that, in her surprise, she had uttered his 
 
 Ifcame without the formal prefix of " Mr." — a trifle 
 
 Ifertainly ; but such trifles are invaluable to a lover, 
 
 IPnce they frequently betray what he might otherwise 
 
 vainly endeavour to discover. 
 
 Norman took her hand, and drew her arm through 
 his own as he said, — 
 
 " I have been walking about here nearly an hour 
 
 l 
 
S24 THE LROTHEHS BASSET. 
 
 ■watching for your coming, for I was told at your house 
 that you would be disengaged at two o'clock, and I 
 did not like the aspect of your hostesses well enough 
 to wait there for you, though they invited me so 
 to do." 
 
 •' Have you then really come here, Mr. Basset, on 
 purpose to see me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Gilmour, I really have ; and I hope 
 there is nothing in my doing so, to excite either your 
 surprise or displeasure." 
 
 " Displeasure ! oh, no — but I am surprised cer- 
 tainly. It is indeed very kind of you ; but you are 
 all much kinder to me than I have any right to ex- 
 pect." 
 
 " I don't know how that can well be, dear Florence. 
 However, we will not discuss the question. I am 
 sent here on a special mission, and I hope it will not 
 fail, for w^e are all deeply interested in its success." 
 
 " 1 know what it is, and believe me, I am truly 
 grateful ; but it cannot be, Mr. Basset. I have written 
 to your sister, and told her my reasons for declining 
 an offer that, I do not deny, it would be a great hap- 
 piness to accept." 
 
 " Then why should you decline it?" 
 
 " Because, I think it would be wrong to do other- 
 wise ; Claudia will explain to you my motives, and I 
 am sure you will find them sufficient." 
 
 " But I do not find them sufficient, and that is 
 why I am here now ; for I saw Claudia yesterday, and 
 read your letter, so you see I am fully prepared to 
 argue the point." 
 
 Florence was silent ; she felt that if he did argue 
 the point, he was very likely to prevail, which might 
 make her appear weak and vacillating in his eyes ; 
 therefore after a few moments' reflection, she said, — ■ 
 
 '* It is very difficult at times to reconcile our incli- 
 nations with our duty ; yet in all cases where they 
 are at variance I should wish to do that which is 
 right; and it seems to me that my present course 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. 2i25 
 
 |he right one. It is in that beUef, Mr. Basset, and 
 lot from any motives of false pride, that I have re- 
 acted the friendly and generous proposal of your 
 Lther and sisters. If I am wrong, there is no one 
 lore able to point out the error than yourself, and 
 lone, I believe, on whose judgment I can with more 
 safety rely." 
 
 " You may always rely with perfect safety on your 
 'own," he replied, with fervent admiration in his tone 
 and manner. 
 
 "And yet you wish me to act contrary to the dic- 
 tates of my own reason ; how is that ? " 
 
 " Nay, not so. What I wish is, to convince you 
 that it would be right now to alter your plans ; not to 
 show that you have been wrong hitherto, fori do not 
 think so." 
 
 " Yet nothing has occurred that I am aware of, to 
 change my views ; and if I began upon a right plan, 
 it must be right still to follow it," 
 
 " It is quite right, Miss Gilmour, if you prefer it 
 to the alternative we propose to you. . Tell me that is 
 tlie case, and I have done. I will not even ask your 
 reasons ; and much as I may regret your decision, 
 I will not presume to offer any further opposition 
 to it." 
 
 "I will not say so, Mr. Basset, for it would be 
 untrue. You cannot doubt for an instant that I 
 should be far happier at Bridge House than anywhere 
 else ; but you know what my objections are ; it is 
 absolutely necessary that I should live in a town where 
 I can have the opportunity of getting employment as 
 a teacher, for I have not the means of living with- 
 out it." 
 
 " You are mistaken, dear Florence ; it is only your 
 inexperience that makes you think so ; the mode of 
 living at my father's is so simple and inexpensive that 
 you need have no scruples on that head ; and — forgive 
 me if I speak in too peremptory a tone — I will not 
 leave you here upon any of the grounds you have yet 
 
 15 
 
326 THE BROTHERS BASSET. ' 
 
 stated. But, perhaps, there is some other cause,' he 
 added, as a momentary pang of jealousy shot through 
 his heart ; " perhaps I am presumptuous. Miss Gil- 
 mour, in taking upon myself to advise you, or regu- 
 late your actions ; there may be some one who has a 
 better right to do so." 
 
 "If there is, Norman," she said gently, "it must 
 be your father, for I know of no one else who has 
 any right at all." 
 
 He breathed freely again. 
 
 "You mentioned," he said, "in your letter to 
 Claudia, that there is one circumstance to be told, 
 which would throw some light on Major Gilmour's 
 extraordinary conduct. Is it anything you can com- 
 municate to me ? " 
 
 Florence hesitated ; it was an unpleasant subject to 
 speak upon, yet it might appear like affectation to re- 
 fuse a confidence thus solicited : therefore, after a 
 short pause, she replied, — 
 
 " Yes — it can be told to you ; and I do not know 
 why I should withhold it. You are aware that I have 
 always been taught to believe I was my Other's only 
 child ; but, in my last conversation with him, I learned 
 for the first time that it is not so, and I have every 
 reason to suppose he is gone to India to bring home 
 a daugtiter for whom he appears to entertain more 
 affection than he has ever felt towards me." 
 
 She trembled very much and could scarcely restrain 
 ]ier tears as she made this painful disclosure, to which 
 Norman did not reply for some minutes, but walked 
 on with his eyes bent to the ground as if in profound 
 thought. How was she to interpret his silence? 
 Had she been guilty of an impropriety in speaking 
 openly to him of a connection that reflected disgrace 
 on her parent, or could it be that the knowledge of a 
 circumstance which seemed to preclude all hope of 
 her being restored to her former position had lowered 
 her in his estimation? Oh! no — he was far too 
 noble and generous to be influenced by so imworthy 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 227 
 
 a consideration, and she reproached herself for the 
 momentary injustice she had done him by such a 
 thought, transient and invokmtary as it was. At 
 length he said, — 
 
 K " In that case, Miss Gilmour, your natural home is 
 
 ^limong your nearest relatives ; henceforth you must 
 look upon them as your father and your sisters, for it 
 is in that light they wish to be considered." 
 
 t " And in that light I always shall consider them, 
 come what may." 
 
 &.' " And me, Florence ?" 
 
 H- " As a brother — a most kind and considerate 
 c>rother." 
 
 »"Ts that all?" 
 She did not answer, for she could not, and he 
 refrained from pursuing the question then, fearing it 
 might give rise to further scruples regarding the ac- 
 ceptance of the invitation to reside at Bridge House. 
 On that point, however, he continued to argue wuth 
 increased earnestness, until at length he obtained lier 
 consent that he should come early in the following 
 week to remove her from her present abode, to a 
 home which,. humble as it was, promised to be a hap- 
 pier one than she had ever yet known. 
 
 By the time this arrangement was made they had 
 reached the gate of Cranberry Lodge, where Norman 
 took his leave, having no desire to cultivate the friend- 
 ship of the three Graces who had been eagerly watch- 
 ing for his return. They had been warmly debating 
 the important question whether it would or would not 
 be proper to invite him to tea, the younger ladies 
 being decidedly in favour of the hospitality, which 
 was objected to by the dame of more mature age as 
 an impolitic measure, tending to lead the boarder into 
 a mistaken notion that tea and toast would be afforded 
 to her visitors " gratis." 
 
 This prudent argument was met by a reply that 
 she might be given to understand it was to be con- 
 sidered an isolated case, and by no means a general 
 
J128 THE BROTHERS BASKET. 
 
 rule ; and as the greater number of votes were in 
 favour of the motion, it was carried by a majority of 
 one. Great therefore was the disappointment of the 
 maiden sisters when the very handsome young man, 
 for whose sake they had contemplated, with indifference 
 the outlay of at least fourpence for a quarter of a 
 pound of fresh butter, vanished from before their eyes 
 at the garden-gate ; but they solaced themselves during 
 the afternoon by making sage reflections upon the 
 indecorum of young ladies, who were not ashamed to 
 walk about alone with gentlemen, and suffer them to 
 squeeze hands in open daylight, on the pubhc high- 
 way. In spite of these inuendoes, Florence was 
 happy, supremely happy. She knew that Norman 
 loved her, she knew that his love was as pure and 
 disinterested as her own, and with this blissful con- 
 viction on her mind, and the prospect before her of 
 living amongst those who were now deai^er to her 
 than ever, it was not in the power of malice itself to 
 cast for one moment the lightest shadow over her 
 heart's bright hopes and expectations. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 2Q9 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 It was the close of day ; the husbandmen had brought 
 ■jiii their cattle from the pastures, and the people were 
 Upeginning to enjoy their evening recreations, when 
 Major Gilmour entered an Indian village in tlie dis- 
 trict of Allahabad on his road to the town where he 
 expected to find the object for which he had under- 
 taken this long and perilous journey. 
 
 On his departure from India he had left his child, 
 not the less his in the sight of God for being born 
 out of the pale of human laws, under the care of a 
 vicious mother, a young Hindu girl of great beauty, 
 but violent and vindictive passions. He had endea- 
 voured to persuade himself that, in leaving sufficient 
 monev for the infant's maintenance, he had done all 
 that duty required of him ; forgetting that it was also 
 his duty to watch over the soul he had called into ex- 
 istence, and guard it from the pernicious influence 
 that would surely lead to its destruction ; yet, as he 
 pursued his journey with the determined purpose of 
 claiming the child he had thus abandoned in its help- 
 less infancy, no such reflections as these obtruded 
 themselves on his mind, his conscience was not 
 awakened to the truth, and, actuated by the same cold, 
 
230 THE BROTHERS BASSET. ' 
 
 selfish feeling that had prompted him to cast off the 
 daughter on whom his cares had been so lavishly 
 bestowed, he now came to reclaim and take to his 
 protection one whom he only valued as a means of 
 carrying out his hard unnatural decree. 
 
 He was travelling with an escort of four armed na- 
 tives, who carried with them all the requisites for a 
 journey of more than five hundred miles through a 
 country where the villages were few and far between, 
 and the best roads nothing more than paths worn by 
 wayfarers ; and often passing through jungles or over 
 wide uncultivated plains, where not a human habita- 
 tion was to be met with for many miles. It was a 
 time too when the fear of highway robbery and mur- 
 der prevailed to a more than usual extent, for many 
 districts were infested by bands of the daring free- 
 booters called decoits, half soldiers, half robbers, 
 who were ready to fight for any petty prince that 
 would pay them for their services, but not at all scru- 
 pulous about the means of enriching themselves when 
 there was no warfare going on. There was also 
 another and more dangerous class of evil-doers known 
 by the name of Thugs, whose numbers were so great 
 as to be almost incredible, vet their existence had but 
 recently been discovered. In almost every town and 
 village many of these secret assassins had been living 
 for years without exciting the least suspicion, their 
 mode of life being the same to all appearance as that 
 of their neighbours ; and their diabolical schemes 
 conducted with such entire secresy that numbers of 
 them had wives and families to whom their crimes 
 were never known. 
 
 The Thugs were formed into societies, and each 
 society had its own chief, who directed and con- 
 trolled all its proceedings. Every one who became 
 a member was bound at his inauguration by oaths 
 the most solemn and fearful, not to disclose anything 
 he should see or hear connected with the cause to 
 which he devoted himself ; and it is a sufficient proof 
 
I 
 
 THE BKOTHEKS BASSET. 231 
 
 1^^ 
 
 ow well those oaths were kept that hundreds " of 
 urders were committed every year by men who were 
 Uving m social intercourse with the world, and re- 
 garded as respectable members of the community to 
 which they belonged. Who could have supjjosed 
 that the merchant sitting so tranquilly in the bazaar 
 with his goods spread out before him, talking so 
 pleasantly with his customers during the day, and 
 mixing with his neighbours when the hours of busi- 
 ness were over, to smoke and chat, or listen perhaps 
 to the entertainiDg stories of some wandering Faquir, 
 who looked for his reward in the food and shelter a'- 
 forded him for the night — who could have supposed 
 that this friendly and respectable merchant was a 
 professed robber and murderer ? Yet so it often was ; 
 and the occasional absence of such men from their 
 homes was usually accounted for by a pretence of 
 going to distant cities to buy or sell in the way of 
 their trade. Many a woman was thus deceived into 
 living happily with her husband, who, had she known 
 his true character, would have shrunk with horror 
 from his embraces ; and many a man has been lured 
 to his doom by one whom he had associated with as 
 a friend and neighbour. The horrible system car- 
 ried on by the Thugs was founded on the religious, 
 or, more properly speaking, the superstitious faith of 
 the Hindus, for it is a profanation of the word reli- 
 gion to use it in reference to such revolting idolatr^^ 
 and its votaries were taught to believe that they were 
 under the special protection of one of the principal 
 divinities of the country. This dread protectress 
 was the goddess Bhowanee, whose image was an- 
 ciently wQji'shipped in some of the most magniiicent 
 temples of Hindostan. She was supposed to be the 
 wife of Siva, the god of destruction, who, according 
 to the legends of the Thugs, had instituted their 
 order at some very remote period, for the express 
 purpose of destroying human life, and thus they 
 attempted to justify their deeds of darkness by fanati- 
 cal rit<?s and ceremonies intended to give to miu'der 
 
239 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 the character of a rehgious sacrifice to their tutelar 
 divinity. Their real object, however, was ahvays 
 plunder ; and every society had spies whose business 
 it was to discover and give information to their chief 
 ♦vhat travellers came into the villages, where they 
 were going to, and what property they carried with 
 them. The chief then concerted his plan to waylay 
 the unsuspecting victims, who were usually lured to 
 some unfrequented spot by persons who had joined 
 them on the road, and there strangled and buried in 
 a grave prepared beforehand, so that no blood was 
 shed, nor any traces of the dead left to show that 
 such a deed had been done. When men were lost in 
 this mysterious way it was generally believed they 
 had fallen a prey to the tigers that infested the uncul- 
 tivated parts of the country, or had perished by some 
 one of the various accidents that are likely to happen 
 in the course of a long journey where vast tracts are 
 uninhabited ; so that Bhowanee did not want for vic- 
 tims until the disappearance of some British officers 
 caused a great sensation at Calcutta, and parties of 
 soldiers were sent out in search of them, when cer- 
 tain discoveries were made that led to the detection 
 of some of those secret assassins : one of whom, on 
 condition that his life should be sjDared, made a full 
 revelation of the mysteries of Thuggism, and gave up 
 the names of his associates, who were arrested in the 
 villages where they dwelt, and suffered the death they 
 merited. 
 
 Some time afterwards. Lord William Bentinck, the 
 Governor- General, adopted the most active measures 
 for the suppression of the miscreants, who, once dis- 
 covered, could maintain tlieir extraordinary constitu- 
 tion no longer ; for many, in their terror of being 
 seized and condemned to death, denounced those 
 with whom they were leagued, numerous gangs were 
 captured, many fled, most of the societies were broken 
 up, and trials and executions were constantly going 
 on that diminished their numbers, though they could 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 233 
 
 lot altogether exterminate the wretched fanatics who 
 lared to cover their vile practices with the semblance 
 ^f a religious order. 
 
 Major Gilmour had not stayed long enough in Cal- 
 cutta to hear much about these proceedings, but he 
 ?as perfectly aware of the insecurity of the roads, 
 nd ere he commenced his journey, took the precau- 
 ^on of engaging four trusty attendants, and making 
 Arrangements only to travel by day, and to change 
 lorses and sleep at the villages. As this was not the 
 h'st time he had performed the journey between Cal- 
 biitta and Benares he knew how to time his progi'ess 
 10 as to reach his destination for the night before the 
 lay had closed ; and it was at rather an earlier hour 
 lan usual that he entered the village of Chundelee, 
 id inquired for the house of the Patail or chief local 
 lagistrate, which was instantly pointed out to 
 dm. 
 
 Ijeaving the horses and baggage in charge of the 
 Attendants, he was wallving through the principal 
 (itreet, when his progress was somewhat impeded by 
 crowd assembled round two persons, one of whom 
 ras delivering, in the language of the country, what 
 ippeared to be a religious discourse, while the other 
 was distributing little books amongst the people who 
 were pressing eagerly forward to receive them. The 
 Major stopped a few moments to listen to the mis- 
 sionaiy, who was reading and explaining a portion of 
 the Gospel of St. John, but, not feeling much interest 
 in the scene, he was passing on, when his attention 
 was arrested by something in the voice of the preacher 
 that seemed not unfamiliar to his ear, and turning 
 back to obtain a view of his features he at once 
 recognised Charles Basset. He was greatly altered. 
 He looked much older, his face was pale and thin, 
 his hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his 
 whole appearance betokened care and suffering. 
 Earnestly engaged in his task, he did not perceive 
 the traveller, who, not deigning to give a second 
 
234 THE BBOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 glance, walked on with a stately step and rather a dis- 
 dainful smile. 
 
 The missionary, little dreaniing w4io was so 
 near him, went on with his discourse, wholly intent 
 in watching the effect it produced on his auditors, 
 many of whom seemed deeply impressed by the 
 words of truth that flowed with impassioned elo- 
 quence from the lips of the speaker. Never had 
 there been in that part of the world a more zealous 
 advocate of the Christian cause than Charles Basset ; 
 and never had missionary been more successful in 
 spreading light among the heathens, a work that had 
 not at that time made much progress in India, where, 
 by similar exertions, it is now so widely diffused. 
 Scarcely had he concluded his sermon when a young 
 man, a native, who had been listening with fixed at- 
 tention, asked for one of the little books, and being 
 told there were none left, seemed very much dis- 
 tressed, and begged, with tears in his eyes, that one 
 might be given to him. There was something so 
 remarkable in his manner that the missionaiy, who 
 had assumed the name of Yilliers, told him to wait a 
 moment, and going into his house, which was close 
 by, he soon returned with a short tract written by 
 himself from the text — " There shall be joy in Heaven 
 more over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety 
 and nine just jDersons that need no repentance." The 
 Indian received it with a look of gratitude, put it into 
 his bosom and walked hastily away. 
 
 ' I must see that young man again," said Charles 
 to his companion. " The seed has taken root there, 
 and we must nurture its growth. Do you know who 
 he is ? " 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Baines, a reverend gentleman, 
 much older than Charles, " I never observed him 
 before ; but he will come again, no doubt." 
 
 And he did come again, sooner than either of the 
 gentlemen expected ; for, at an early hour the 
 pext morning, Charles was awakened by a gentle 
 
THE BKOTHERS BASSET. 235 
 
 pping at his door, which he opened instantly, and 
 as very much surprised at seeing the young Indian 
 nding hefore him, with grief ancl terror strongly 
 l^icted on his countenance. 
 
 '■ What is the matter ?" he inquired, in a tone of 
 arm ; but instead of answering the question, the 
 ung man laid his finger on his lip, and looking 
 utiously round, as if to see that he was noL ob- 
 " served, went into the house and closed the door ; then 
 Ifcrowing himself on his knees he bent his head till 
 IBis forehead touched the ground, while the tears 
 ^ rolled fast down his cheeks. The missionary bade 
 him rise and tell w^hat was the cause of his distress, 
 promising with soothing words to give him all the 
 l^omfort and assistance in his power, but the Indian 
 IBbmained prostrate before him, and began, with pas- 
 sionate gestures, to pour forth invectives against 
 himself, intimating that he had been guilty of some 
 great crime for which he desired to make atonement. 
 Still Charles tried to encourage and tranquillise him 
 by saying that if he had done any wrong, he was 
 ready to hear his confession and advise him how to 
 t ; on which the Indian, whose name was Kristno, 
 ose, and with downcast eyes and trembling frame 
 id, partly in his own language and partly in bad 
 ngiish, that a traveller, an Englishman, had come 
 the village on the preceding evening with four 
 rvants, had slept there, and set off a little after 
 y-break. 
 
 " They are to be murdered on their way," he added, 
 with increased agitation, " and it is I, miserable that 
 I am, who have given information to those who will 
 take their lives, of which road they are going, and that 
 they have gold about them, for I learned these things 
 from the men last night." 
 
 " Wretched man ! " exclaimed Charles. " What 
 could induce you to assist in such a crime?" 
 
 " I was compelled," was the answer; " I dared not 
 refuse, for I am one of them, I am a Thug." 
 
 At this word the missionaij recoiled with horrcr, 
 
S36 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 but a moment's reflection told him that the confession 
 was of itself a proof of repentance, and he asked the 
 culprit why he had come to him. 
 
 Kristno replied there was yet time to save the 
 travellers if proper means were taken ; that he knew 
 when and where the deed was to be done, and was 
 most anxious to prevent it. 
 
 " It must be prevented," said Charles. " I will go 
 at once to the Patail." 
 
 "That will not do," replied the Indian, myste- 
 riously. " He would pretend to disbelieve it, and 
 would not assist you." 
 
 " What then can be done ? Did you hear the name 
 of the traveller?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, — they called him Major Gilmour." ' 
 
 "Merciful God!" cried Charles. "Major Gil- 
 mour ! What is to be done, man ? He must be 
 saved; how can I procure aid?" 
 
 " Ah ! then he is your friend. Woe to me I woe 
 to me ! " 
 
 " Waste no time in lamentations, but if you know 
 how this gentleman may be rescued, say so at 
 once." 
 
 The Indian said the only way M'ould be to go with 
 all speed to the English station at Secrole, and pro- 
 cure a party of soldiers. 
 
 •' Secrole ! that's twentv miles off " 
 
 " Yes ; but swift horses will soon carry us there. 
 I will lead them to the spot — his grave is dug, but he 
 shall not die." 
 
 Charles felt a cold shuddering creep through his 
 frame, but he saw the necessity of acting with 
 promptness and decision, therefore he desired the 
 Indian to see about the horses, whilst he prepared 
 for the journey. 
 
 " I dare not," said Kristno. " If I were seen they 
 would suspect me." 
 
 " Who would suspect you? Have you associates ii^ 
 this place?" ■ 
 
 " Yes," replied the Indian. " I must hide myself 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. So7 
 
 re till you are out of the village, and come to you 
 stealth." 
 
 Charles, however,, thought it would be a quicker and 
 fer plan for Kristno to go at once, and for him and 
 Mr, Baines to ride after him, as their leaving the 
 
 K-^'-Uage on horseback would excite neither wonder nor 
 tention, and Mr. Baines mic:ht easily return unper- 
 ived on foot, whilst himself and the Indian pro- 
 ceeded to Secrole. 
 
 All this was speedily accomplished. Mr. Baines 
 was aroused and briefly made acquainted with the 
 circumstances. Kristno was dismissed with directions 
 to wait at a certain spot ; two horses were procured, 
 and in less than half-an-hour the missionary and his 
 strange companion were on their way to the British 
 station. 
 IK They rode on at full speed for some miles, when 
 '^e iTiggedness of the patli compelled them to go at a 
 slower pace for some distance, and Kristno took this 
 
 Wpportunity of relating a few circumstances of his 
 wn history, that not only lessened Charles Basset's 
 repugnance to the close contact in. which he found 
 himself with a professed assassin, but made him 
 feel a considerable degree of interest in his future 
 JBestiny. The young Indian said that all he had ever 
 ^nown of his father was as a soldier in the service of 
 Scindia, one of the native princes, and that he was 
 killed in some of the petty wars that disturbed the 
 country when he, Kristno, was a boy about seven or 
 
 Might years old. Having no mother nor any other 
 Blative that he knew of, he was protected by an old 
 Ian who had been his father's most intimate friend, 
 and who adopted him as a son, treating him always 
 ith the greatest kindness and affection. This old 
 man was, ostensibly, a shawl-merchant, and in that 
 capacity frequently made long journeys, always taking 
 the boy with him ; but for many years he had the 
 art to conceal his real profession, and to keep from 
 the eyes of the child of his adoption anything that 
 might awaken suspicion, until he had gained so com- 
 
S38 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 plete an ascendancy over his mind, that he ventured 
 by degrees to disclose the truth, and initiate him into 
 the doctrines and mysteries of the ' terrible society 
 of which he Avas a member ; and then Kristno first 
 became acquainted with the fact that his father also 
 belonged to the same order. Under the powerful in- 
 fluence of his protector, to whom he believed he owed 
 a vast debt of love and gratitude, the youth was at 
 length induced to take the oaths, and become one of 
 the votaries of Bhowanee, or Devee, as the goddess 
 is sometimes called. From that time, he said, he had 
 never enjoyed a happy moment. The crimes to 
 which he had been accessory, the horrors he had 
 witnessed, were continually haunting his mind, and 
 it was nothing but fear of the vengeance of his asso- 
 ciates that had prevented him from breaking his 
 vows, and forsaking a cause he detested in his heart. 
 The old man who brought him up was dead, there- 
 fore he had no tie to bind him to the association, still 
 he had been wavering between his desire to enter 
 upon a better course of life, and his dread of the con- 
 sequences, until the previous day, when he had been 
 determined by the discourse of the missionary, to 
 whom, he said, he had often listened before with great 
 interest, but never with such an entire conviction of 
 his own sinfulness as yesterday; arid it was under the 
 influence of that feeling he had been so anxious to 
 obtain one of the little books, as he Avanted to learn 
 whether there was any hope of being forgiven for 
 what he had already done, if he abandoned his pre- 
 sent course. It happened fortunately that the tract 
 given him was on that very subject, and his resolution 
 to do better was thus confirmed; but to avoid sus- 
 picion, he was obliged to give information to his 
 superiors respecting Major Gilmour, and he was now 
 most anxious to remedy the evil he had done. 
 
 This was all he had time to tell, for coming upon 
 an open plain, they were able to urge their horses t( 
 a more rapid pace, and reached their destinatioi 
 without accident or further delay. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 5^39 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIII. 
 
 Iajor Gilmour had departed at break of day with 
 
 his four attendants, and had ridden five or six miles, 
 
 when, at a place where two roads meet, he encoun- 
 
 ' tered three travellers, one of whom wore the Persian 
 
 ' costume, and by the richness of his dress appeared 
 
 to be a person of some importance. The others 
 
 i seemed of inferior rank, for although one of them 
 
 was riding by his side when they first came in sight, 
 
 3 he respectfully fell back at a sign from his superior, 
 
 who addressed the major in tolerably good English, 
 
 •with all the courtesy of a man of high breeding, and 
 
 Unquired where he was going ; to which the major 
 
 : replied with equal courtesy that the extreme point of 
 
 • his journey was a village some few miles to the north 
 
 of Benares, 
 
 " That is fortunate," said the Persian, " for I am 
 on my way to Lucknow, so that om- route to-day will 
 be the same ; and if you have no objection, we will 
 join company ; it will be safer for us both." 
 
 Major Gilmour readily agreed to this proposal, and 
 
 as they rode together, side by side, the stranger told 
 
 ■ him that he was chief scribe or secretary to the King 
 
 of Oude, and mentioned some of the British officers 
 
240 THK BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 tlien residing at the court of that kingdom as being 
 well known to him. He spoke familiarly of the king, 
 talked of the unsatisfactory condition of the country, 
 and of other matters that showed an intimate knowledge 
 of state affairs, and of the existing relations between 
 the kingdom of Oude and the British Government. 
 This conversation was particularly interesting to Major 
 Gilmour, who had been for several years stationed at 
 Kaunpoor, and had often visited Lucknow, the King 
 of Oude's capital, and was perfectly acquainted 
 with the habits and manners of that court, and 
 Avith some of the residents mentioned by his com- 
 panion. 
 
 In the meantime their followers appeared to be in 
 the highest good humour with each other, and were 
 chatting and laughing together, as they rode at some 
 distance behind their masters. About noon they 
 lialted under the pleasant shade of a cluster of palm- 
 trees, to take some rest and refreshment, and here 
 above an hour was loitered away ere they resumed 
 their journey. As they proceeded, the Persian said 
 casually, that being in haste to reach Lucknow, he 
 intended to travel all night, and was to be met, 
 towards the evening, by a strong escort, near the 
 place where he and his present companion would 
 have to separate, as their roads would then lie in 
 different directions. On they went in the pleasantest 
 manner possible until the day began to decline, when 
 they entered an extensive grove of mango-trees, 
 where they found a party of ten or twelve soldiers 
 busied in preparing the evening meal. They saluted 
 the Persian with profound respect, and he received 
 the greeting with the air of one accustomed to the 
 homage paid to men of distinction at Eastern courts. 
 
 " You have a sufficient escort here for any emer- 
 gency, I should think," said the major. 
 
 " Not too gTeat for the road I am going," replied 
 the Persian, " which is not a veiy safe one. They 
 are all well armed, and brave. But you will partake 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 241 
 
 if our repast ; there will still be time to reach your 
 jsting-place before night." 
 
 Major Gilinour would rather, perhaps, have finished 
 lis day's journey without stopping, but he knew it 
 ,'ould be considered a breach of pohteness to dechne 
 he proffered civiUty; therefore he consented, and 
 parpets were spread for the accommodation of the 
 Persian and his guest, while some of the escort, with 
 ^wo of the major's attendants, seated themselves on 
 he bare ground in a circle, and the rest served the 
 riands. 
 
 These arrangements were scarcely made, when 
 band of soldiers, dressed in the English uniform, 
 rushed suddenly from amongst the trees, and, in an 
 Instant, surrounded and seized the whole party, 
 except Major Gilmour himself. Some had started to 
 their feet, and snatched their pistols from their 
 girdles ; but they were overpowered, thrown down, 
 and bound hand and foot. One man who had stood 
 a little apart from the rest, darting his keen eyes 
 around, perceived Kristno. 
 
 " Traitor ! " he cried, and fired a pistol at him, but 
 it missed its aim, and the assassin was secured before 
 he had time to draw another. 
 
 The Persian had struggled hard with three soldiers, 
 but was now lying on the ground with his hands 
 behind him, and his feet bound together with a 
 strong cord ; and the major's men were also made 
 prisoners, to their great astonishment and dismay, 
 for the rescuers could not, in the huriy of the capture, 
 distinguish them from the gang of ruffians it was 
 their business to apprehend. All this was done 
 in much less time than it takes to tell it, for it 
 was but the work of a few seconds ; and while 
 it was going on, Major Gilmour stood bewildered 
 and amazed, for he saw the assailants were no rob- 
 bers, but British soldiers, and he could not compre- 
 hend the meaning of so extraordinary a scene. He 
 saw, too, that he was the only one of the party 
 
 16 
 
243 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 untouched, which was another mcomprehensible 
 cu'cumstance ; but before his ideas could take any 
 definite form, an Enghsh officer, who was evidently 
 in command of the party, came up to him, and 
 said, — 
 
 "Major Gilmour, permit me to congratulate you 
 on your escape from these worthy gentlemen. We 
 have been watching their operations for the last hour 
 or so; and look here," he continued, taking up a 
 piece of cloth from the ground, with a noose tied in 
 one corner — " here is the accursed weapon that w^as 
 to have put an end to all your cares in this world. 
 Another minute, and no power on earth could have 
 saved you, for I saw the villain at your back witli this 
 in his hand. 
 
 "In Heaven's name! what are they?" asked the 
 major, looking aghast. 
 
 " In Heaven's name, nothing," replied the officer; 
 ♦' but, in the devil's name, they are Thugs." 
 
 The whole truth now flashed in all its hoiTor on 
 the bewildered senses of the rescued man. 
 
 " Good God ! " he exclaimed ; " have I then been in 
 the power of those wretches?" 
 
 "You have, indeed; and you may thank your 
 hicky star that you are well out of it. Here comes 
 the gentleman to whom you owe your safety — I may 
 say your life ; for had it not been for him, you pro- 
 bably would not have been in existence at this very 
 moment." 
 
 As he spoke, Charles Basset advanced with a smile, 
 and put out his hand, which Major Gilmour grasped 
 almost convulsively. 
 
 This was then his preserver— the man whom, only 
 last night, he had avoided with coldness and con- 
 tempt. But how had he become aware of his danger, 
 and how had he been able to deliver him from it ? 
 
 These and other thoughts passed rapidly and con- 
 fusedly through his mind, and as he endeavoured to 
 speak, his voice failed, and his lips quivered 
 
THE BEOTHETIS BASSET. 243 
 
 ' Charles. " This meeting is a surprise to us both. 
 But I thank God it has so happened, and that Provi- 
 
 ■■dence has made me the instrument of your deU- 
 
 Iprerance." 
 
 IP " I did not expect to see you, indeed," rephed the 
 major, who had in some degree recovered his self- 
 possession. " It is a surprise — a very great surprise 
 — and under such circumstances. I can scarcely 
 comprehend them ; nor do I know yet what I have to 
 thank you for." 
 
 " Oh ! I can tell you that/' said the officer before 
 mentioned — a young man of lively manners and 
 pleasant countenance, whose name was Lacy, and 
 who held the rank of captain in a regiment of infantry 
 stationed at Secrole. " You have to thank him for 
 riding twenty miles full gallop to bring me and my 
 men here in time, to prevent these rascals from 
 sending you to the next world by rather too quick a 
 stage. And here's a fellow," he added, turning 
 towards Kristno, who was standing by, " that you owe 
 
 E«ome thanks to as well ; for it was he who gave Mr. 
 illiers information of this double -distilled plot." 
 "Mr. Villiers!'' repeated the major, with a look 
 : amazement. "Who is he?" 
 Charles smiled. " That is my name here," he 
 lid, " but I prefer that you should call me by my 
 own." 
 1^ " I fancy, gentlemen," said Captain Lacy, " that 
 '^'e must postpone any further explanations till I have 
 .—disposed of these miscreants, whom I shall send off 
 iWto Saugor at once. They will find a few of their 
 friends in the prisons there, I believe. And now, 
 I^Kristno, you must tell me the names of this Persian 
 gentleman and his two associates, and as many of 
 the others as you know, that I may write them 
 down." And he took out his tablets for that pur- 
 pose. 
 .The eyes of the pretended Persian glared with 
 
244 THE BEOTHP^RS BASSET. 
 
 fierce hatred and revenge upon the young Indian, 
 who trembled with a fear he could not quite overcome, 
 although the captain repeatedly reminded him that 
 the wretch had now no power to hurt him. However, 
 he gave his name and those of six others, each of 
 whom uttered a loud execration and threat of ven- 
 geance, as he heard his own pronounced. 
 
 *' Very well," said Lacy, when hs had written the 
 last . name. "Now, how many more of them are 
 there in your village, and what do they call them- 
 selves ? " 
 
 Poor Kristno seemed terribly afraid of answering 
 this question, but Captain Lacy told him he had 
 nothing to fear, as he would certainly be protected 
 from harm ; and, satisfied with this assurance, he 
 gave the names of three men living then in Cluin- 
 delee, which were also noted down. 
 
 In the meantime the poor fellows forming Major 
 Gilmour's escort, who had been frightened almost 
 out of their senses, were set at liberty, and the pri- 
 soners removed to a short distance, and placed under 
 a strong guard, whilst the invading party availed 
 themselves of the plentiful repast that had been pre- 
 j)ared for a less worthy company, vhich the soldiers 
 seemed to enjoy all the more, as being the spoils of 
 the foe. 
 
 Kristno, and two or three other Hindus, set about 
 cooking some food for themselves, which they ate 
 apart from the rest ; but Captain Lacy sat down with 
 his men, and, of course, Major Gilmour and Charles 
 Basset did the same, although the former did not 
 feel much disposed for eating. Charles now made 
 some anxious inquiries respecting his own family, 
 which the major took care to answer in a manner 
 that would not lead him to suspect that the inter- 
 course had been broken off; and he heard with 
 great pleasure of their removal into Hampshire, an( 
 of their finding so good a friend in Mr. Ingleby^ 
 which Major Gilmour had learned from his daughtei 
 
THE BKOTHERS BASSET. ^45 
 
 ■on her return from Bridge House ; but it is re- 
 lanarkable that in tliis conversation the name of 
 Florence was never mentioned by either. Did this 
 |kilence i:>roceed from indifference, or was it an act of 
 ^ self-denial on the part of the once ardent lover? 
 I^Perhaps it was, that he who had so resolutely broken 
 ""through all social ties to devote himself to an expia- 
 tory work, felt that he still had lingering affections 
 which, if not kept under absolute subjection, might 
 yet have power to tempt him back to those Avorldly 
 enjoyments he firmly believed it was his duty to 
 
 kesign for ever. 
 When the soldiers had finished their meal, the 
 iragments were given to such of the prisoners as chose 
 to eat anything, but most of them sullenly refused ; 
 and now it remained to be considered whether it 
 would be advisable to set up tents, of which there 
 were several among the baggage of the robbers, and 
 pass the night on the spot; or make use of the 
 remaining hour of daylight, to get as far from it 
 as possible ; and as nobody seemed to have any 
 particular fancy for the place, the latter plan was 
 decided upon. The prisoners were first sent off, 
 tied two and two together, and well guarded, to 
 Benares, whence they were to be forwarded to San- 
 ger, a city of the interior, appointed as the place of 
 [trial for all criminals of that description. 
 
 ''I must ride after those worthies," said Captain 
 
 acy, " though 1 don't much like travelling in such 
 
 [company, and I shall be very glad. Major Gilmour, if 
 
 ou will go with me and spend a few days at our 
 
 ijuarters. You will find a pleasant set of fellows 
 
 here, and I dare say some of our officers are not un- 
 
 nown to you." 
 
 *' Colonel Evans is an old friend of mine," said the 
 
 major, " and I shall be glad to meet him again ; but I 
 
 would rather finish the business that brought me 
 
 here first, and will take Benares in my way back. 
 
 What is Mr. Basset going to do ? " 
 
246 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 Charles said he wished to return as quickly as pos- 
 sible to his own residence. 
 
 "Well then," said Lacy, "you cannot do better 
 than take with you half a dozen of my men that I 
 shall send with Kristno here, to secure the three 
 rascals that belong to this gang ; that will make your 
 road pretty safe." 
 
 Charles was veiy glad to take advantage of this 
 offer, and prepared instantly to depart, having already 
 received an assurance from the major that he should 
 visit Chundelee on his return. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 247 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIV. 
 
 With strange and mingled feelings Major Gilmour 
 pursued his way, an altered man, although he knew 
 it not. Left once more to himself, he had full leisure 
 to reflect on all that had occurred ; and shuddering at 
 the thought of the horrible fate from w-hich he had 
 been so miraculously preserved, his proud heart was 
 humbled, and he could not stifle the sense of his own 
 unworthiness to receive so great a benefit at the hands 
 of him who had rendered it. His anxiety with re- 
 gard to the child was very much cooled, and once or 
 twice he felt half disposed to turn back without ac- 
 ^complishing the object of his journey; but some un- 
 defined feeling, akin to shame, prevented him from 
 doing so, and he continued his route with wavering 
 and uncertain purpose ; and again sleeping at one of 
 the villages, he arrived at his destination on the fol- 
 lowing day. It was certainly a relief to his mind to learn 
 that the infant had died soon after he quitted India, 
 and that the mother had then disapj)eared from the 
 place, and had not since been heard of The old man 
 of whom he made the inquiries hinted that the woman 
 had destroyed her child for the sake of the money 
 left for its maintenance, and the painful conviction 
 
248 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 was thus forced on the mind of the erring fother that 
 he had himself probably been accessory to the mm^der 
 of his own offspring by leaving it in the charge of 
 such a woman. Here, then, was another subject for 
 serious reflection, and in his present frame of mind 
 it was not without good fruits ; but those fruits were 
 still only in the bud, and he was wholly unconscious 
 of their existence. 
 
 It was only about six hours' journey from the place 
 where he had received this intelligence, to Secrole, 
 the British military station of Benares, and thither 
 he next directed his course. He was most cordially 
 welcomed, and congratulated on his escape by all the 
 officers of the regiment, amongst whom he spent three 
 or four days very pleasantly, and then he heard from Cap- 
 tain Lacy the particulars of the nefarious plot that had 
 been so happily frustrated. It appeared that the pre- 
 tended Persian was the chief of a gang of assaseins, 
 who were distributed in three different villages, and 
 held constant communication with each other. There 
 were five or six of them in Chundelee, and Kristno 
 was the one always employed to discover the intended 
 route of any travellers that came there, and whether 
 they carried sufficient property with them to make it 
 worth while to waylay them ; for, notwithstanding 
 the mystic rites and doctrines of Bhowanee's devotees, 
 the end and aim of all their proceedings was invariably 
 plunder. 
 
 On the night Major Gilmour arrived at Chundelee, 
 Kristno was desired bv one of his fraternitv to find 
 out where he was going and how many people he 
 would have with him. This information was easily 
 obtained from his attendants, and one of the robbers 
 set off" instantly to the next village to give notice to 
 his chief, who laid his plans accordingly. What 
 those j)lans were has been already seen ; but there 
 was one circumstance mentioned by Captain Lacy 
 which gave the major a shock he could not easily get 
 over. It Avas that, when they had all separated on 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. Q49 
 
 at eventful evening, Lacy was shown a place which 
 
 the soldiers had discovered, where five graves were 
 
 IHug in readiness to receive the bodies of the destined 
 
 l^ctims, so surely had the miscreants calculated on 
 
 the success of their stratagem. 
 
 " That Mr. Villiers seems a good sort of fellow," said 
 acy ; " I suppose you are well acquainted with him." 
 " I knew him in England," replied the major, " but 
 was not aware he was in this countiy till he came 
 providentially to my rescue." 
 
 ' So he told me. I have heard he is doing an im- 
 ense deal of good here, and the conversion of that 
 or fellow, Kristno, seems to be a proof of it. If I 
 ere inclined to be a fatalist, I could see in all this 
 sufficient ground for a belief that he was sent here 
 l^r tlie express purpose of working out your deliverance, 
 IBphich would hardly have been achieved had not his 
 i^loquence enlightened the mind of this poor Indian, 
 >o far as to give him courage to break through tlie 
 rammels that surrounded him." 
 
 There may he something more than chance in it, 
 ideed," replied the major, thoughtfully ; and several 
 imes that dav the same idea recurred to his mind, 
 jringing with it a vague suspicion that his own con- 
 luct had been far from blameless, and that all these 
 circumstances might have been ordered to convince 
 dm of his injustice. 
 After spending nearly a week in the British can- 
 mments. Major Gilmour returned to Chundelee, 
 r'here he was received by Charles Basset with a cor- 
 'diality that was almost painful to him, feeling as he 
 did that he had so little claim to such friendly treat- 
 ment, and he now had leisure to observe the extraor- 
 dinary change that so short a time had made in him. 
 The gay, thoughtless, volatile young man he had so 
 lately known, was now a calm, sedate personage, 
 blending the dignity of an apostle with the humble 
 bearing of a devoted Christian. The emotions that 
 had been awakened in his bosom by this unexpected 
 
 I 
 
250 THE BBOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 meeting with one whose presence could not fail to 
 revive many tender recollections were now wholly- 
 subdued ; and he addressed the major with a sere- 
 nity which showed how effectually he had conquered 
 all those worldly passions that might have interfered 
 with the task he had assigned to himself on earth. 
 His voice was firm, his countenance placid, and his 
 whole demeanour that of a man undisturbed by agi- 
 tating thoughts ; yet there was nothing of the auste- 
 rity of an ascetic in his manner ; nor did the interior 
 of his dwelling exhibit any signs of indifference with 
 regard to personal comfort. In answer to Major 
 Gilmour's warm and reiterated expressions of grati- 
 tude he said, — 
 
 " They are not due to me, but to a higher power, 
 whose agent I am ; and in this we both have reason 
 to be thankful — you, for life preserved ; I, for being 
 appointed the instrument of your preservation, for I 
 firmly believe it is a token that my atonement has 
 been accepted." 
 
 " It may be so, Mr. Basset ; still you have done me 
 a service that I can never repay, and I should be glad 
 to acknowledge it in any way that may be most agree- 
 able or beneficial to you, if you will only point out to 
 me what I can do " 
 
 "For me, personally, nothing,'' replied Charles; 
 "but if you wish to show your sense of God's mercy 
 in this instance, you cannot do it in a more fitting 
 manner than by aiding the work we have here in 
 hand. Any assistance of that kind will be most wel- 
 come, and Mr. Baines, my colleague, will tell you how 
 it may best be afforded." 
 
 "But surely you do not intend to live in banish- 
 ment for ever? you will return to England after a 
 time, and then " 
 
 " No, sir," said Charles, interrupting him, with a 
 melancholy smile; "no; my mission is here — tell 
 my father I am happy — tell him "' jfll 
 
 Write to him, Mr. Basset ; nothing will give hii 
 
 i 
 
'J'HE BKOTHERS BASSET. 251 
 
 much comfort as a letter from yourself. And now, 
 ay I ask why you have never communicated with 
 y of your family." 
 
 Because I was afraid of being tempted to abandon 
 
 ework I had entered upon; for it was no easy task, 
 
 Major Gilmour, to break the ties of home and kin- 
 
 _ Jred, and give up my whole soul to the one great 
 
 l^kuse. I thank God that I have been strengthened 
 
 to do all this, and that my labours hitherto have been 
 
 iuccessful." 
 " It is a satisfaction to you, no doubt ; but have you 
 tot done enough for the atonement you speak of, and 
 io you not think that some consideration is due to 
 our family '? I am assured that all your friends 
 desire you should return to them, and it strikes me 
 that the duties you have taken upon yourself here do 
 not altogether release you from those you owe at 
 ast to your father. I wish I could prevail upon 
 ou to go back with me." 
 Charles shook his head, and sighed deeply. 
 "I must not be tempted," he answered. "Our 
 reat Master has said that ' No man having put his 
 and to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the 
 ingdom of God,' I have vowed myself to this ser- 
 vice, and if I were now to abandon the work, all that 
 III have done, all that I have intended to do, would be 
 
 counted as nothing." 
 
 W " I will not pretend to argue points of conscience 
 
 with you, and, perhaps, you may be right in following 
 
 l^ie dictates of your own. However, you will write I 
 
 ■^ope ; that can surely be infringing no religious 
 
 l^uty, but rather performing one." 
 
 I» After a few moments' reflection, Charles said he 
 
 would write to his father ; and as his guest meant to 
 
 Ifceave the village early on the following morning, he 
 
 spent great part of the night in the performance of 
 
 this task, at once both painful and pleasing. The 
 
 letter was a very long one, and gave a circumstantial 
 
 account of his proceedings from the time he left 
 
 I 
 
252 THE BEOTPIEES BASSET. 
 
 home up to the. present hour. From this it appeared 
 that, from the day of his mother's death, his thoughts 
 had been directed towards the course he had adopted, 
 and having some knowledge of Mr. Baines, a mis- 
 sionary, who was then in London, he stated his 
 views to that gentleman, who entered warmly into 
 them, and gave him all the assistance in his power. 
 In consequence of the many conversations they held 
 together, Charles w-as induced to adopt the opinions 
 and principles of the Baptists, and was regularly 
 received as a member of that community. 
 
 Mr. Baines was at that time on the point of under- 
 taking a mission to India, and was about to sail in a 
 few weeks Avith two other gentlemen who were en- 
 gaged in the same cause, and through his influence 
 the Committee of the Missionary Society, taking into 
 consideration the pecidiar circumstances of the case, 
 agreed to accept the services of Charles as an as- 
 sistant, without the usual training, and accordingly 
 furnished him widi the means of going out with Mr. 
 Baines and his colleagues, under whose instruction he 
 made considerable progress during the voyage, in the 
 study of the Hindostanee and Sanscrit languages, in 
 wdiich they were all three w^ell versed. Immediately 
 on their arrival, Mr. Baines and himself proceeded to 
 Chundelee, where the former had been before, and 
 where they obtained leave to prosecute their labours, 
 and to build the house in which they now resided. 
 He then spoke of the success with which his own 
 efforts for the conversion of the heathen had been 
 attended, and related the incidents of Kristno's re- 
 pentance and Major Gilmour's consequent preserva- 
 tion, as among the blessed effects of his endeavours 
 to spread the light of truth among the Gentiles. 
 
 The rest of the letter, although written in terms of 
 unabated affection towards his father, his brother, 
 and his sisters, w^-^^is calm and unimpassioned. It 
 contained not a word of regret at his separation from 
 them, nor a single expression that could be construed 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 253 
 
 I.... _.„„.....- 
 
 as he folded the long epistle, and hastily dashed away 
 the tears that rushed to his eyes as his hand traeed 
 the word " England," in wTiting the superscription. 
 The departure of Major Gilmour on the following day 
 was another trial of his fortitude. 
 
 IP The major had held a long conversation with Mr. 
 Baines, who was a very Avell-informed, gentlemanly 
 man, on the subject of affording pecuniary aid to the 
 mission, which it was agreed should be done through 
 the society in London ; and with regard to the Hindu 
 Kristno, whom he was anxious to reward for his good 
 offices, Mr. Baines said it was the poor fellow's desire 
 to be taken into the English service as a sepoy, and 
 he had no doubt he would be received as soon as the 
 trials were over, for his acquittal was certain, as Mr. 
 Basset intended to give such evidence m his favour as 
 
 ■■rould exempt him even from the usual penalty of im- 
 prisonment awarded in general to those who gave in- 
 formation against their partners in guilt, with a view 
 of saving themselves from an ignominious death. 
 The major had also deposited in the hands of Mr. 
 Baines a sum of money to be employed for the 
 benefit of the young Indian, and said that if, at any 
 future time, an opportunity should occur of advancing 
 his interest in any way, he should always be ready to 
 give his aid for that purpose. 
 
 RWhen the time for his departure arrived, Major 
 rilmour once more expressed his sense of the obli- 
 ation he was under, and his regret at leaving his 
 ijareserver behind him. 
 
 IW " And noAv, Mr. Charles," he said, " where are your 
 letters for England?" 
 
 It was long since the exile had been called by that 
 name, once so familiar to his ear, and he started at 
 the sound as if it had been a voice from the dead. 
 His hand trembled as he put the packet into that of 
 the major, who perceived that his usual calmness had 
 for the moment deserted him ; but it was only for the 
 
254 THE BROTHEES BASSET, 
 
 moment — he speedily regained his wonted composure, 
 and said, without any apparent emotion, — 
 
 " If you should see my father, Major Gilmour, as- 
 sure him that I am well and happy." 
 
 "Is that all I am to say, Mr. Basset ? nothing more 
 consolatory than that? no word of hope that you may 
 some day return ?" 
 
 " I have said all in that," replied Charles, pointing 
 to the packet. "He will, I think, be satisfied." 
 
 " I very much doubt it ; nevertheless, it is a matter 
 that rests entirely between you and your own con- 
 science, and I can only hope that your life will be a 
 long and happy one, wherever and in whatever manner 
 it may be passed." 
 
 Charles now ventured to inquire whether Miss 
 Gilmour was at Calcutta ; and there was something 
 in the tone of the major's brief reply that led him to 
 ask if he was right in still calling her Miss Gilmour. 
 
 " She is not married ; but, as I came on business 
 that was not likely to detain me long in this country, 
 I did not bring her with me." 
 
 And this was all that passed on the subject. Both 
 the missionaries accompanied Major Gilmour some 
 few miles on his journey, and when they parted, Mr. 
 Baines said he hoped they should soon meet again, 
 as he should probably be in England in the course of 
 the following year ; but Charles Basset did not utter 
 a single word expressive either of hope or regret, >«nd 
 maintained to the last moment that firm, composed 
 demeanour, which could only have been acquired by 
 a degree of self-command that was truly extra- 
 ordinary. 
 
THE 13110THEBS BASSET. ^55 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 HE winter had passed away, and the spring had 
 returned with all its bright promise of summer joys, 
 of warmth and verdure, of calm blue skies, of rosy- 
 tinted mornings and golden sunsets, of balmy even- 
 ings and moonlight walks, of all that is loveliest in a 
 world that is full of beauties for those who, loving 
 and beloved, are disposed to look for and enjoy them. 
 Claudia was now a happy bride. Her marriage had 
 taken place soon after Christmas, and the first few 
 ■•reeks of her wedded life were spent in Paris ; but, 
 ' as soon as the gay season of that gayest of all capi- 
 l^ls was over, she returned to London, and was hap- 
 P^ily installed as the mistress of her fond husband's 
 handsome establishment. Mrs. Garnet, the quondam 
 housekeeper, had betaken herself to the domicile of 
 another bachelor, who, being ten years in advance of 
 Mr. Ingieby, was more likely to maintain his freedom, 
 although the good lady was heard to express a touch- 
 ing sentiment to the effect that after the delinquency 
 of her late master, she would never put faith in man- 
 kind again ; and to that declaration she had added an 
 appendix, the substance of which was, that if Mr. 
 Ingieby had set his mind upon being married, she 
 
256 " THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 thought a more matronly person would have heen 
 better suited to a man of his time of hfe. Mr. 
 Basset had found it a severe trial to part with his 
 favourite daughter, whose quiet, gentle cares were so 
 soothing to his broken spirit"; for, although Emily 
 was not less affectionate, her liveliness did not so well 
 accord with the general tone of his feelings. It is 
 true he liked to see her merry, and would not on any 
 account have checked her gaiety by saying a word of 
 its depressing influence at times upon himself; and 
 so little did she suspect this of being the case, that 
 frequently, when he appeared in lower spirits than 
 usual, she would try to cheer him by the very means that 
 had a dfrectly contrary effect; for the human heart 
 can only vibrate to such sounds as harmonize with it. 
 The inefficiency of Emily to supply to her father the 
 place of the absent Claudia was perceived by Florence 
 Gilmour, who, without seeming to observe it, con- 
 trived gradually to accustom him to look to her for 
 those minor attentions that were so neeessaiy to his 
 comfort. He was not so able now to walk about out 
 of doors, or amuse himself in the house, as he had 
 been before the winter ; his eyesight was failing, so 
 that it was an effort to read for half an hour at a 
 time ; but Florence would sit by him with unwearied 
 patience, and read aloud or converse on any topic 
 that she thought would be pleasing to him. It 
 was remarkable that one of these was the progress of 
 missionary labours in the East Indies, a subject to 
 which he had scarcely ever given a thought, until his 
 attention was awakened to it by a letter signed 
 " Villiers" in one of the periodicals, to which allusion 
 has already been made. Other articles by the same 
 writer had subsequently appeared, and he had perused 
 them with the deepest interest, not knowing why, 
 but always feeling pleasure in so doing. Sometimes 
 when Florence asked what she should read to him, 
 he would say, " Eead me one of Villiers' letters, 
 my dear ; I like to hear those letters, though I know 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 957 
 
 them pretty well by heart now I think." What 
 ould it be that had taken such an extraordinary 
 ossession of his fancy ? Is there a link in nature, 
 at, by some electrical power unknown to us, con- 
 'nects the souls of those who are far distant from each 
 other? Otherwise, how was it that these missionary 
 apers always seemed associated in the mind of the 
 ereaved father, with thoughts of his long-lost son, 
 et without the most remote idea that Charles and 
 ilUers were one and the same person? It might be 
 here was some peculiarity in the form of expression 
 rthat touched the associating chain, as sometimes we 
 find that a word, a tone, or even a look, will bring 
 .— back vividly the remembrance of some event long 
 l»J)ast, yet may vainly attempt to trace the connection 
 
 (between them. 
 Norman spent as much of his time as he possi- 
 bly could spare from the numerous duties of his voca- 
 tion at Bridge House. It was now known to every- 
 body that he was Miss Gilmoui''s accepted lover, and 
 the report of his projected marriage had reached the 
 |— €ars of the rector, who asked him whether it was true ; 
 i'and when he acknowledged the fact the worthy gen- 
 tleman' shook his head, as if he rather doubted the 
 wisdom of such a proceeding. 
 Ill " My good young friend," he said, " have you con- 
 sidered whether you have the means of maintaining 
 a wife?" to which Norman replied that his views were 
 in accordance with his resources. 
 
 )^ " Ah ! yes, that is all ver}' well to say ; but 'you 
 "must remember that there may be others by-and-bye 
 to keep besides the wife ; for that is pretty sure to be 
 the case when there is nothing to keep them upon— . 
 I have always remarked that." 
 
 I must trust to Providence, sir, as many have 
 done before me," said Norman, with a smile. 
 
 " Aye, and starved upon it. I fancy the only thing 
 to trust to for bread and cheese is money ; but you 
 are in love, I suppose ; and it is of very little use I 
 
 17 
 
S58 THE BROTHERS BASSKT. 
 
 know to argue upon plain matters of fact with a 
 lover; so, when is this fooUsh affair to take place?" 
 
 " ^ot till the autumn, I believe." 
 
 "Well, the longer you 'put it off, tlie better; has it 
 been a long engagement?" 
 
 Norman had been wishing for an opportunity of 
 stating all the circumstances of his engagement to 
 Mr. Robertson, of whose kindly feelings towards 
 him he had received many gratifying proofs, and this 
 seemed a favourable time for such a communication, 
 being the social hour between dinner and tea, when 
 there was nothing to do but to sit over the wine and 
 talk. It had become an established custom for Nor- 
 man to dine at the rectory on a Sunday, and Mr. 
 Robertson would as soon have thought of sitting 
 down to dinner without his wife as without his curate. 
 There were usually several other guests, but on this 
 particular day the only stranger present was a lady 
 who had retired to the drawing-room with Mrs. 
 Robertson, leaving the two gentlemen to themselves, 
 and Norman profited by the occasion to enter into a 
 full detail of Florence Gilmour's history, in which the 
 good clergyman soon found himself very much 
 interested. Of course he told the whole story to his 
 wife, who was very much interested too, and so they 
 agreed between them that the curate s salary should 
 be increased on his marriage ; and this liberal inten- 
 tion was made known to him forthwith, and acknow- 
 ledged with much gratitude. He had endeavoured to 
 prevail on Florence to fix an earlier period for their 
 marriage, but she had determined to await the 
 expiration of ane year from the time of her father's 
 departure. 
 
 " We cannot foresee what circumstances may arise," 
 she said. " He may yet return ; and how much hap- 
 pier we both should be, dear Norman, if our union 
 were sanctioned by his consent!" 
 
 This was an argument Norman felt he ought not 
 to oppose, still he could not help wishing in his secret 
 
 I 
 
THE BROTHEDS BASSET. 259 
 
 art, that the major might not return till Florence 
 as his own by sacred rights, that would put it 
 yond the power of even parental authority to 
 parate them. 
 
 In the meantime a great revolution had taken place 
 t Andover. Mrs. Heaviside had discovered that the 
 heart of Norman Basset was not attainable, or, more 
 correctly speaking, that it was disposed of elsewhere, 
 IBonsequently her friendship for Emily had consi- 
 derably cooled, and invitations were no longer given. 
 f?he cessation of that intimacy was a considerable 
 Blief to the mind of Freshfield Ray; for Emily, 
 iOtwithstanding her resolution to the contrary, luul 
 ontinued to visit Mrs. Heaviside occasionally, and 
 never missed the opportunity, on her return, of 
 entertaining her lover with encomiums on the mani- 
 fold attractions of Ensign Claverton, who was a 
 frequent visitor at the house of the fair widow. Now 
 the laudation of the gallant ensign was a theme that 
 could scarcely be very agreeable to the ears of Mr. 
 Ray, who was not only doomed to listen to the 
 praises of that gentleman, uttered by lips that ought 
 not to have spoken thus admiringly of any one 
 except himself, but was also compelled to hear of the 
 assiduous attentions paid to Emily, by the your,g 
 officer, whose name he positively hated. Sometimes 
 he ventured to remonstrate ; but this was sure 
 to give rise to a quarrel, which always ended, as such 
 quarrels usually do, in the submission of the lover, 
 whether right or wrong. Under these circumstances, 
 it is not to be wondered at that Freshfield should 
 ■■rejoice in any event that had the effect of terminating 
 ■Rui intimacy so destructive to his peace. 
 P The case was this. A report had for some time 
 been prevalent at Andover, that Mrs. Heaviside was 
 about once more to enter into the " holy estate 
 of matrimony," and in confirmation of this rumour, 
 it was publicly declared at every tea-table throughout 
 the town, that a very handsome, fashionably-dressed 
 
260 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 young" man, a stranger to the Andoverites, but 
 supposed to be a person of consequence, was fre- 
 quently at the widow's house, and that she had 
 spoken mysteriously of sending an order to Paris for 
 c(3rtain articles of millinery, and of a probability, in 
 case of some events likely to occur, of visiting the 
 French capital herself at no very distant period. She 
 had not been seen at Bridge House for several weeks, 
 when, one morning, to the infinite surprise of Emily 
 Basset, a most unexpected visitor appeared in the 
 form of AUce Compton, whose face was all radiant 
 with joy, and whose voice and manner had in them 
 more of animation than Emily had believed her to be 
 capable of displaying. She had been frequently 
 asked to spend a day with the Bassets, but her aunt 
 had always found some pretext for postponing the 
 acceptance of the invitation, evidently with the 
 intention of preventing the visit altogether ; there- 
 fore Emily supposed that, owing to some caprice 
 of Mrs. Heaviside, her niece had at length obtained 
 permission to come, and she attributed to that cause 
 the unwonted signs of delight that sparkled in 
 the eyes and lighted up the homely features of Alice 
 Compton. 
 
 " Dear Alice, I am so glad to see you ! How did 
 you come?" 
 
 " I walked all the way. Miss Emily, for I was 
 in such a hurry to tell you some news, that I could 
 not wait for a conveyance I might have had to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " It is good news, I am sure, by your looks ; but 
 take off your bonnet, and have a glass of wine, 
 before you begin to tell it, for you must be veiy 
 tired." 
 
 And as she spoke, with true country hospitality 
 
 she produced from a cupboard a decanter of wine, 
 
 and a large cake of her own manufacture, which had 
 
 been pronounced excellent by Freshfield Ray. 
 
 • Mr. Basset and Florence, who had been walking h 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET,' 261 
 
 the garden, now came in, and both kindly welcomed 
 fche unexpected visitor, especially the former, who was 
 llways benevolently disposed towards those whom he 
 jonsidered to be in any way oppressed. 
 
 " Alice has brought some news, papa," said Emily, 
 I' and I am dying to hear it." 
 
 " It can hardly be worth dying about, my dear ; 
 but what is it, Miss Compton ? Is your aunt 
 married ? " 
 
 " No, sir,''she's not married yet ; but the news con- 
 cerns myself, not her; and I thought Miss Emily 
 rould like to hear it." 
 
 * I shall indeed, Alice, if it is any good fortune 
 that has happened to you." 
 
 " It is better fortune than I expected ever to meet 
 rith. My father is come back, and I shall have 
 
 home of my own." 
 
 " Your father ! I have always understood your 
 father was not living." 
 
 " I did not know he was alive till yesterday. He 
 as been abroad a great many years, and no one 
 new anything about him. You may think what a 
 joyful surprise it was ; and just at this time too, 
 when my aunt is going to be married, and I should 
 
 I have had no home at all." 
 "No home! my dear," echoed Mr. Basset indig- 
 nantly. "Was siie going to turn you out of her 
 house, then?" 
 
 " I was to look out for a situation, sir ; but, thank 
 
 I Heaven ! I shall have no occasion to do so now." 
 " And your father, my dear ; where has he come 
 from, and how is it you have never heard of him be- 
 fore ? " 
 • " Yes, do teir us all about it," said Emily ; " you 
 cannot imagine how delighted I am ! " 
 
 Just at this moment, the door was opened and 
 Freshfield walked into the room. He started, and 
 appeared a little confused at seeing Alice, who blushed . 
 the deepest crimson as he approached and shook' 
 
263 THE BKOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 hands with her. Emily beheld these toL'ens of recosf- 
 nition with evident amazement, for she had believed 
 they were total strangers to each other, yet she saw 
 them meet as old friends, and it was now her turn to 
 be jealous- 
 
 " I was not aware that you were acquainted with 
 jVIiss Compton," she said to Freshtield, in a tone whicb 
 plainly expressed, " What right had you, sir, to keep 
 this matter a secret?" 
 
 "Miss Compton and I have met before," replied 
 Freshtield, " but I did not know whether I ought to 
 mention it without ber permission." 
 
 " I will tell Miss Emily about it myself, Mr. Ray ; 
 but I bave other things to speak of first, and I am 
 verv'^ glad that you ai'e here to hear them." 
 
 Freshfield took a seat by the side of Emily, and 
 listened with great interest w^iilst Alice gave a brief 
 account of the events that had so completely changed 
 the whole current of her existence. 
 
 *' I suppose you know," she said, " that my aunt is 
 going to be married ?" 
 
 "We have heard so," replied Mr. Basset, "but 
 nobody seems to know who the int€nded husband 
 is." 
 
 " I am afraid she does not ri^htlv know that her- 
 self, sir ; she calls him Captain Komer, and says he 
 is heir to some great nobleman, but I cannot help 
 thinking he is deceiving her, for if he really was heir 
 to a nobleman, he would hardly marry a woman of 
 her age." 
 
 At the name of Captain Romer, Emily and Flo- 
 rence exchanged looks of intelligence, but nothing 
 was said, and Alice proceeded. 
 
 " My aunt has not known this gentleman many 
 weeks, and I have not the least idea how slie first met 
 with him, for he seems to be quite a stranger at Ando- 
 ver, so of coui se I was very much surprised when she 
 told me about ten days ago that she was going to be 
 married, and that I must look out for a situation, as. 
 
 ^ 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 26$ 
 
 she could not have me with her any longer. I 
 scarcely knew what kind of situation to look for, or 
 ow to set about looking for it ; but Miss Simpson, 
 the dressmaker, very kindly offered to take me as an 
 assistant till I could hear of something, and I was 
 
 B going to her yesterday if I had not been prevented 
 by the happy chance that has given me a much better 
 home than I have ever had in my life. My aunt has 
 always led me to believe that my father, who was her 
 own brother, had died in America when I was quite 
 a child ; but this was not the truth, and she knew it 
 was not." 
 
 " What could be her motive for concealing the 
 ruth?" said Mr. Basset. 
 
 " I do not know, sir ; but whatever the motive might 
 e, I cannot help feeling that it was very cruel to do 
 o. However, the happiness of finding him again is 
 11 the gi'eater from being unexpected." 
 " But how did he find you out?" said Emily; "and 
 here did you first meet ? " 
 
 *' He had no difficulty in finding my aunt," replied 
 lice ; "he came to her house yesterday morning, 
 d she knew him directly, although it is nearly 
 renty years since he left England. He married 
 gain in America, but his wife and children are dead, 
 so he has only me now to care for, and I am sure we 
 ■khall be very happy together." 
 
 B " Well, I suppose Mrs. Heaviside was glad to see 
 ner brother again?" said Mr. Basset. 
 
 R Alice replied that she thought her aunt would have 
 een better pleased if her father had remained abroad, 
 s they had never been on very friendly terms; and 
 she did not expect there would be much intercourse 
 between them. 
 
 She then related, with much simplicity and good 
 feeling, some of the particulars of her first interview 
 with her father, and ended her story by saying that 
 he had purchased a cottage in his native village, 
 ^vhich was not moi^© than four miles distant ftom 
 
264 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 Bridge House, but as it would not be ready for two 
 or three weeks, he was going to take her to London, 
 to see, as she termed it, a httle pleasure. 
 
 This simple story was listened to with great in- 
 terest by her auditors, who congratulated her most 
 sincerely on the pleasant change in her affairs, and 
 it was wonderful how complete an alteration it had 
 made in herself. She looked full ten years younger 
 than she did before, and almost pretty from the 
 very pleasing expression of her now animated coun- 
 tenance. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 The marriage of Lord Merrington, which was duly 
 announced in all the London papers, had produced a 
 very unpleasant effect on the affairs of Captain Romer, 
 who had obtained considerable sums of money from 
 various sources, on the strength of those expectations, 
 which were now at least doubtful. His patrimony 
 was gone, the instant demands upon him were 
 ' urgent, and he found it more difficult to raise funds 
 for his immediate necessities, than he had done 
 whilst the money-lending world believed in the cer- 
 tainty of his future inheritance ; nor was his case by 
 any means desperate, so long as there was no rival 
 claimant ; but at length the astounding fact was 
 published that the Lady of Brianscourt had presented 
 her noble lord with a son and heir, and Captain Ro- 
 mer then found it convenient to leave town, having 
 already fixed upon Andover as a place of temporary 
 sojourn, should the expected offspring of his uncle's 
 ^ union be a boy. It was not without thought or with- 
 m out reason that he had selected that town as his place 
 B of refuge, for he had met by chance with the Irish 
 • artist, whose attractions had proved insufficient to 
 
266 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 that unlucky votary of Cupid, he had caught an idea 
 that Andover contained a rich prize, which, in the 
 present state of his atfairs, might be worth trying for. 
 The artist, who w^as not very well informed as to the 
 real amount of Mrs. Heaviside's property, had mag- 
 nified it in his conversation to a considerable extent, 
 whereby Captain Romer was deluded into a belief 
 that her possessions were much greater than they 
 really were, and under this impression he appeared 
 at the town above mentioned, where, by means of a 
 little arrangement with one of the young men at the 
 circulating library, he soon found an opportunity of 
 introducing himself to the lady, who was a subscriber 
 to that establishment, and in the constant habit of 
 going there to select food for her mind in the shape 
 of new novels. 
 
 Romer loitered away two whole mornings without 
 success, but on the third she came, the shopman 
 gave him a hint, and he commenced his operations 
 by venturing to make some remarks on a work she 
 was inquiring for. This opening being well received, 
 he made a still further advance, aided by his ally the 
 shopman, who mentioned a certain book as worthy 
 of her peiTisal, but added that the only copy they had 
 was out, and they should not have another for some 
 days, on which Romer, with affected diffidence, said 
 that he had himself a copy of the identical work, and 
 if the lady w^ould condescend to accept the loan of it, 
 he would leave it at the library for her. This was 
 rather a bold stroke, but it answered very well, for 
 the shopman had taken care to address him respect- 
 fully as Captain Romer. She blushed, and smiled, 
 and granted the permission desired ; then, after the 
 exchange of a few more compliments, allowed him to 
 hand her into her carriage. As soon as she was gone 
 the shopman untied a parcel of new books, and taking 
 out a fresh copy of the one in question, Romer paid 
 for the reading, and received the assurance of his 
 coadjutor that it should be sent to the widow before 
 
I 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 267 
 
 the library ticket was put into it. The acquaintance 
 
 H^nce commenced, its improvement was easy, as no 
 
 Ifcsinclination was manifested on the part of tlie lady, 
 
 IKho was in fact delighted with so romantic an 
 
 Adventure, especially as the hero was the happy 
 
 proprietor of black moustaches, which, united with 
 
 lather graces, rendered him even more eligible than 
 
 Ifcie handsome curate himself. The birth of Lord 
 
 Merrington's heir was unknown to Mrs. Heaviside, as 
 
 Ifcdeed were all other circumstances relating to 
 
 Ipbat nobleman, whom she had always heard spoken 
 
 of as a single man, therefore Eomer found no diffi- 
 
 ■■ulty in persuading her that his own claim to the title 
 
 %^as still good ; and on making his proposal, just seven 
 
 days after the first interview at the library, was un- 
 
 esitatingly accepted. 
 
 So far all was well ; but as he was fearful that, if the 
 
 "air was noised abroad, some kind friend might give 
 
 e lady an intimation of the true state of his circum- 
 
 nces, he prevailed on her to consent to a secret 
 
 arriage, pretending that his uncle had some one 
 
 else in view for him, and thus he avoided the shackles 
 
 marriage-settlements, his grand object being to 
 
 tain entire control over the property of this silly 
 
 d imprudent woman. 
 
 The attractions of Norman Basset being thus cast 
 to the shade. Bridge House ceased to be a paradise, 
 and Emily was no longer an angel. Mrs. Heaviside's 
 interest in the family melted suddenly awny, like a 
 lunip of sugar in a cup of hot tea, leaving no trace 
 behind but its frothiness. 
 
 The next preliminary step was to get rid of her 
 ece, as it was agreed between herself and her im- 
 i patient lover that immediately after their nuptials, 
 1 which were to be celebrated with as little delay as 
 ! possible, they sliould proceed to Paris, where she 
 I intended to engage a French maid, consequently 
 would have no further need of the services of Alice 
 ■ Compton, The notice to quit was given in a very 
 
268 THE BROTHERS BASSET 
 
 abrupt, unfeeling manner, and when Alice ventured 
 to intimate that it would be a difficult matter to find 
 a situation in so short a time as was allowed her, the 
 amiable lady replied, that if she could do nothing 
 better she must take a nurse-maid's place ; she had 
 been a burthen to her friends long enough. 
 
 With this pleasant alternative in view, Miss 
 Compton began to make her little preparations for 
 removing to the house of the laundress till she could 
 hear of a situation that she might be able to under- 
 take, when she was sent for by a dressmaker in the 
 town, who knowing that she was a clever needlewoman, 
 offered to give her employment till she could find 
 something better, and to this proposition she readily 
 and thankfully agreed. The day for her departure 
 had arrived, her box was packed, and her aunt had 
 given her a single sovereign as a parting gift, the first 
 she had ever had to call her own; and with this 
 magnificent donation she was to be sent forth, friend- 
 less and forlorn, to begin tlie world on her own 
 account. She was not unhappy, for she left nothing 
 behind her to regret ; still there was something 
 depressing in the idea of having from that time no 
 settled home, which brought tears into her eyes as she 
 said to herself, *' I wonder what will become of me?" 
 The question was more speedily resolved than she 
 could have imagined it would be, for scarcely had it 
 crossed her mind, when she was told a gentleman 
 desired to see her. 
 
 " A gentleman — who is he ? Did he not give his 
 name?" 
 
 " No, Miss Compton," replied the sen^ant, "he said 
 it was no use sending his name, for you would not 
 know him ; but he wished to see you particularly ; so 
 I showed him into the dining-room." 
 
 Alice went down stairs wondering who the stranger 
 might be, and what he could possibly want with her 
 He was rather a coarse-looking man, rough in his 
 manners, but very well-dressed, and by no means 
 
B 
 
 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 269 
 
 II 
 
 vulgar, though not what would be called 'a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Are you Alice Compton?" was his first question. 
 "Yes, sir — that is my name." 
 " And you live here with your aunt, Mrs. Heavi- 
 side?" 
 
 '♦ Yes, I do, at present" 
 •' Have you always lived with her?" 
 " Almost ever since I can remember; that is, from 
 the time my mother died, when I was about nine years 
 old." 
 |- " And has she treated you kindly? Are you com- 
 IBbrtable here?" 
 
 IB Alice hesitated, for she hardly knew whether it was 
 
 Ifcght to answer such questions from a perfect stranger 
 
 IPWithout knowing what his motives were in asking 
 
 them. At length she said, — " I am going to leave my 
 
 aunt, and am in want of a situation ; perhaps that is 
 
 iM^hat you have called about, sir?" for it now struck 
 
 fter that this might be the business on which her 
 
 ■trange visitant had come. 
 
 ■ " Why are you going to leave ?" he inquired ; *' and 
 Kvhat sort of a situation do you want?" 
 V These queries seemed to confirm Alice in her last 
 opinion, and she answered, — " My aunt is going 
 ■pbroad for a time, I believe, and does not find it 
 Bfeonvenient to take me with her ; therefore I should 
 ^e glad of any situation where I could be useful, 
 either to wait upon ladies, or do needlework, 
 
 )r " 
 
 " Stop — that's quite enough," interrupted the 
 jtranger, " so that's what she's going to do witli you, 
 it? But she maybe — I won't say what. Do you 
 tnow anything of your father ? " - 
 
 *' My father, sir ! would to Heaven I did ! but I am 
 ifraid he is not living." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, he is ; I dare say you would like to see 
 him, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 *' Merciful goodness ! Is my father really alive, and 
 
270 THE BROTHERS BASSET/ 
 
 shall I ever see him again ? Oh ! what a happiness 
 it would be ! " 
 
 " Would it, my dear ; and should you recollect him, 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " No ! " replied Alice, " I was so young when he 
 went away ; " then a sudden light breaking in upon 
 her, she clasped her hands and looking earnestly at 
 him, said in a voice trembhng with agitation, " Surely, 
 surely, you are not he '?" 
 
 " Yes, I am though; I am Tom Compton, and you 
 are my daughter ; so I hope you will like me, 'my 
 dear; and I dare say we shall do very well together; 
 for I have nobody but you now belonging to me in 
 the world except my sister, whom I don't care that 
 for;" and he snapped his fingers with a vast deal of 
 emphasis. 
 
 AUce, with a natural burst of joy threw herself into 
 the arms of her father, who, rough as he was in speech, 
 could not help shedding tears as he embraced lier 
 with all the warmth of parental affection. 
 
 Her arms were still entwined round his neck, and 
 she was sobbing on his shoulder, when Mrs. Heavi- 
 side, quite unconscious of what was going forward, 
 opened the door, and stood petrified with amazement, 
 at the unexpected scene that presented itself to her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well, sister Heaviside," said Mr. Compton, 
 putting his daughter from him, "here I am, you see, 
 come to thank you for all your favours, especially your 
 goodness to my child." 
 
 " Thomas ! " exclaimed the lady in a tone of dis- 
 may ! " Bless me ! who would have expected to see 
 you in England." 
 
 " Why, not you, I dare say ; but it seems I have 
 turned up just at the right time for my poor girl 
 here ; she shall not be sent out to service, I can 
 promise you." 
 
 Mrs. Heaviside, not being prepared for such a 
 meeting, and feeling totally at a loss for the moment 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, . 371 
 
 hat to say or do, threw herself upon a couch, and 
 ent into hysterics by way of gaining time. She was 
 Isagreeably surprised by what she considered the ill- 
 Hljimed appearance of so inelegant a relative ; for, in 
 PIddition to the mortification of introducing such 
 _A person to her polite and fashionable lover, there 
 fkras the awkwardness of having forgotten to account 
 j^for eight hundred pounds, that had been sent to her 
 a provision for the little Alice, very soon after the 
 ath of her mother. 
 
 Mr. Compton, who had not been remarkable for 
 eadiness of conduct in his younger days, had, 
 consequence of pecuniary difficulties, when Alice 
 as about five years of age, betaken himself to 
 America, unincumbered with wife or child, but with 
 a vague idea of sending for them as soon as he had 
 made his fortune. He had managed to carry out 
 with him a sufficient sum to enter upon a new 
 career, and this he invested in the purchase of some 
 shares in a steam-vessel, which proved a fortunate 
 speculation ; but as he continued the old habit of 
 spending his money as fast or faster than he made 
 it, he never found himself in a condition to put 
 in practice his laudable intentions with regard to 
 those he had left behind him, and at the end of four 
 years from the time of his quitting the mother 
 ■iountry, he received intelligence from his sister that 
 lie was a widower. 
 
 Not long after this he married the only daughter 
 of a tobacco-planter in one of the American States, 
 and it was then he remitted eight hundred pounds to 
 Mrs. Heaviside, in trust for Alice, thus making his 
 mind easy on her account. 
 
 He had two children born in America, and suc- 
 ceeded his father-in-law as owner of the plantation ; 
 but in course of time he was left a lone man by the 
 death of his Avife and children, and then his heart 
 began to yearn for his native land. He sold the 
 plantation, and returned to England in easy circum- 
 
S72 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 Stances, and with more wisdom than he had taken 
 away with him. His first care was to find out his 
 daughter, and, with that view, he went to Staiford- 
 shire, where he learned that Mrs. Heaviside was now 
 a widow, and also gained sufficient information about 
 the manner in which his daughter had been brought 
 up and treated by her aunt, to excite his utmost 
 indignation. 
 
 The brother and sister had never been very fond of 
 each other, and these circumstances were not calcu- 
 lated to inspire more amicable feelings on either 
 side ; consequently, after a most unpleasant scene of 
 recrimination, Mr. Compton took his daughter away 
 with him to the inn, where he proposed staying for a 
 few days, to make some arrangements about the 
 cottage that was to be their future residence. 
 
 It was a new era in the life of Alice Compton ; a 
 bright gleam of sunshine first breaking on her 
 hitherto cheerless path; and she w^alked with a 
 light step and lighter heart, looking forward hope- 
 fully to social joys that had never yet fallen to 
 her lot. 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 EARLY a month had elapsed since the events re- 
 
 orded in the last chapter. The late Mrs. Heaviside, 
 
 now Mrs. Romer, was enjoying the blissful days of her 
 
 |»econd honeymoon at Paris, and the Comptons were 
 
 ■Quietly settled in their pretty cottage at Wellton. 
 
 I^llice, as mistress of her father's house, felt like 
 
 IK queen, and regarded her little domain in the light 
 
 of a splendid empire ; all was so new, so delightful, 
 
 and her father, who really possessed many good 
 
 qualities, soon became excessively fond of her. She 
 
 as a frequent visitor at Bridge House, where she 
 
 onstantly met with Freshfield Ray. who sometimes 
 
 aid her more attention than Emily thought there 
 
 as any necessity for, considering she was now the 
 
 ole heiress of a man of independent property. The 
 
 ittle mystery that hung over their first meeting had 
 
 been cleared up by x\lice herself, who, seeing how the 
 
 case stood between Emily and Mr. Ray, took the 
 
 earliest opportunity of explaining how it happened 
 
 that the gentleman Avas not a stranger to her. 
 
 It appeared that when Mrs. Heaviside first came to 
 
 reside at Andover, the most popular hero of the day 
 
 _ was the Hampshire giant, who had lately succeeded 
 
S74 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 to bis father's wealth, and was, of course, an object of 
 high admiration and esteem, as eveiy man must 
 naturally be similarly circumstanced in any provincial 
 town of merry England, where such stars but seldom 
 shine. 
 
 The widow had given several parties, for the 
 express purpose of inviting him to her house, and on 
 those occasions had distinguished him by the most 
 flattering attentions, which, however, he received 
 with perfect indifference, evincing no disposition 
 to profit by the preference shown him. He had 
 even been very polite to Alice Compton in her aunt s 
 presence, whereby he had given great offence, so that 
 the lady grew cool towards him, and the bonds 
 of amity thus weakened were at length suddenly 
 bluest asunder by the following incident. 
 
 One evening Alice was making tea in a separate 
 apartment, and sending it into the drawing-room to 
 the company, when the man, who acted as waiter, 
 answered in a very insolent manner to some direc- 
 tions she was giving him. Mr. Eay, who had just 
 arrived, happened to walk into the room at the 
 moment, and hearing what the man said, desired 
 him to beg Miss Compton 's pardon, which he refused 
 to do, saying he could do no more than that if she 
 were a lady. Being highly provoked at this answer, 
 Freshfield threatened to knock him down, unless he 
 made a proper apology, on which, the culprit, being 
 rather in fear of so powerful a champion, was about 
 to offer some excuse, when Mrs. Heaviside came into 
 the room, and inquired what was the matter? 
 
 Freshfield, burning with indignation, told her what 
 had passed, on which she tossed her head, begging 
 that he would not interfere with her domestic affairs ; 
 when the servant, presuming on the support thus 
 given by his mistress, declared he would make 
 no apology at all, as Miss Compton had spoken 
 to him in a manner he would not put up with ; and, 
 so saying, he left the room. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 375 
 
 11 
 
 told Mr. Ray she considered it unbecoming a gentle- 
 man to quarrel with her footman, on which he bade 
 her good evening, and left the house, where he had 
 
 rver been since. 
 When Alice related this circumstance to Emily, 
 the latter asked her why she had never mentioned 
 it before. 
 
 " Because," said Alice, " as you and my aunt were 
 friends, I did not like to tell you anything that might 
 prejudice you against her." 
 
 »" But you might have told me, Alice, that you 
 ew Mr. Bay." 
 " I could scarcely tell you that, Miss Emily, with- 
 out telling you the whole particulars of our very 
 slight acquaintance," replied Alice; but the blush 
 „ that suffused her cheeks as she spoke awakened 
 H suspicion in Emily's mind that the conduct of 
 Freshfield on that occasion had made a deeper 
 impression than she cared to own ; yet, as the cir- 
 cumstance occurred before Freshfield and herself had 
 ever met, she could not reasonably feel any jealousy 
 about it. 
 
 The departure of Mrs. Heaviside from Andover, 
 and the cessation of her intimacy with the Bassets, 
 ^afforded great relief to the mind of Mr. Ray, who 
 sted that he should never hear anything more 
 Ensign Claverton, but he trusted in vain, for the 
 ung officer, having little else to do, found it a 
 leasant way of passing time to flirt with his former 
 dend's pretty sister, and was not disposed to give up 
 at amusement so long as his regiment remained at 
 inchester, and he began to think that, as he had 
 once been introduced at the house of Mr. Basset, he 
 had a very fan^ plea for paying his respects to that 
 gentleman at his present abode. If he had known 
 that Emily was seriously engaged he certainly 
 would not have contemplated any such visit, for, 
 however gay and thoughtless he might be, he was by 
 
 affo 
 
 li 
 
 ■fief 
 
276 THE BROTHERS BASSET.' 
 
 no means unprincipled, nor would he have done any- 
 thing so dishonourable as to interfere with the claims 
 of an affianced husband. 
 
 Emily was quite aware that he had no serious 
 views with regard to herself, for he made no scruple 
 of lamenting to her that his scanty means condemned 
 him to a single life ; and this it was that made her 
 think there was no harm in giving encouragement to 
 attentions that meant nothing ; but it is a dangerous 
 theory, and, if acted upon, is sure to be attended with 
 regret. 
 
 It happened one Saturday evening that Alice 
 Compton, being at Bridge House, stayed rather later 
 than usual, and as it was growing dark, Mr. Ray 
 offered to walk home wil.h her, and his escort was 
 accei^ted. 
 
 " I shall come in as I return, just to wish you 
 good night," he said to Emily; but he did not come 
 in, and she was told the next morning that it was 
 past twelve o'clock when he reached home — a piece 
 of intelligence that caused her to determine not to 
 bestow a single smile upon him the whole day. 
 
 It was his usual custom to walk with the Bassets to 
 church, but on this unlucky Sunday morning he 
 suffered them to go without him, nor did he make his 
 appearance until the service had commenced, when 
 he seated himself in another pew. Now all this 
 might have been easily accounted for if Emily had 
 waited patiently till he could have found an oppor- 
 tunity of explaining it, but she was offended at his 
 apparent neglect, which she attributed to a cause 
 very remote from the right one, and took the most 
 imprudent means of revenging herself that she could 
 possibly have adopted. Freshfield had scarcely taken 
 his seat when there was another late arrival > and the 
 newcomer placed himself directly opposite Emily 
 Basset, who, on raising her eyes, encountered those 
 of Ensign Claverton, which were fixed upon her with 
 an earnest gaze that did not escape the observation of 
 
THE BROTHEES BASSET. S77 
 
 ler lover, who had no difficulty m recognising his 
 
 l^ncied rival by the full military uniform, Avhich 
 
 Tnade him a conspicuous object in a village church, 
 
 and was attracting the admiration of the simple 
 
 -rustics. 
 
 WW Mr. Eay was not much edified by the discourse he 
 heard that day, and when it was" ended, instead of 
 hastening to join his friends at the church-door, he 
 lingered behind, anxious to see what kind of recep- 
 tion the young officer would meet with, and again 
 his behaviour was misconstrued into a wilful slight. 
 The ensign, unconscious of the mischief he was 
 doing, addressed himself with the utmost ease to Mr. 
 Basset, who received him very kindly in consider- 
 ation of his having been one of Charles's associates ; 
 he then paid his compliments to Miss Gilmour, whom 
 he perfectly well recollected having seen before ; and, 
 these ceremonies duly performed, he took up his posi- 
 tion by the side of Emily just as Mr. Eay emerged 
 from the church-porch, and approached the group 
 
 Kith slow step and clouded brow. 
 "We have been waiting for you, Freshfield," said 
 [r. Basset. " This is Ensign Claverton; whose name 
 I think you have heard before." 
 
 If Freshfield bowed coldly, 
 i " Ensign Claverton, Mr. Bay." 
 ' The young soldier returned the cold salutation, 
 nd offering his arm to Emily, who accepted it with 
 evident pleasure, he whispered, " Surely Hercules 
 is come upon earth again ! " at which she laughed 
 merrily, and her ill-timed mirth of course added an- 
 other shade to the already dark cloud that obscured 
 the visage of her offended lover, who gave his arm to 
 Florence, while Mr. Basset walked on the other side 
 of Emily, and in this order they proceeded to Bridge 
 House. The distance was about half a mile, and 
 there was a field to cross, and there were two stiles to 
 get over; but Emily, instead of availing herself as 
 usual of Mr. Bay's assistance, accepted the aid of 
 
378 THH BB0THEB6 BASSET, 
 
 Claverton, thus adding to the mortification she had 
 ah'eady given. 
 
 Such circumstances may he trivial in themselves, 
 hut they are not so as regards their effects, for the 
 sum of social life is not made up of great events^ and 
 true happiness depends far more on trifles than on 
 the weightier affairs of existence. It remains with us 
 to convert them into gems and flowers that make our 
 life's short journey bright and sweet; or into the 
 burning sands and poisoned darts that scorch and 
 wound at every step. Mr. Basset invited Claverton 
 to lunch, and Emily seconded the invitation, on which 
 Freshfield, bowing slightly to the whole party, with a 
 hasty " Good morning," addressed to no one in par- 
 ticular, walked away towards the farm. 
 
 " What is the matter with Freshfield, Emily?" said 
 Mr. Basset. 
 
 *' I'm sure I don't know, papa." 
 
 •'You have offended him, I suppose, my dear; or 
 he has offended you — which is it?" 
 
 " Neither, that I know of." 
 '" " Perhaps you know, Miss Gilmour, as you walked 
 ^Dme with him?" 
 
 " No, indeed, sir f Emily ought to know best." 
 
 This little dialogue was sufficient to open the eyes 
 of the ensign, who, in the absence of the young 
 ladies, contrived to learn from Mr. Basset that a 
 serious engagement actually subsisted between Emily 
 and the Hercules, whose rights he had so unwittingly 
 invaded ; and, to his honour be it spoken, he instantly 
 saw the propriety of withdrawing his own unmeaning 
 attentions. 
 
 The absence of Freshfield, who did not come again 
 all that day, occasioned more uneasiness to Emily 
 than she would confess, and as the evening advanced 
 and he still did not appear, Mr. Basset, who was so 
 much accustomed to his society that he felt greatly at 
 a loss without it, said he would go and see what had 
 become of him. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 379 
 
 Ifc As soon as he was gone, Florence said to 
 "Emily, — 
 
 " I am afraid, dear Emily, Mr. Eay is seriously dis- 
 pleased — indeed, you have done very wrong." 
 
 " He deserves it. Why did he not come back last 
 ight; and why did he keep away from us this 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Last night he saw Alice's father for the first time, 
 and was induced to stay and sup with him. This 
 ■■aorning an accident happened to one of his horses, 
 Ifcrhich detained him till it was too late to go with us 
 IId church, and he did not like to disturb us by 
 IRoming into our pew after the service had com- 
 menced ; so you see his oifences are not very gi-eat 
 ■^^er all." ^ 
 
 " Nor did I say a word to him about it ; he chose 
 keep back till Mr. Claverton had offered me his 
 m ; that was not my fault." 
 
 " Oh! Emily, this is childish; you know very well 
 
 was not the mere fact of your taking Mr. Claver- 
 
 n's arm, it was your manner altogether, and he 
 
 as very much hurt at it. Believe me, dear Emily, 
 
 ou are acting imprudently, and, forgive me, if I say 
 
 generously, for Mr. Ray is highly desendng of 
 
 ur confidence, as well as your affection. He loves 
 
 ou sincerely, but he also respects himself, and I 
 
 ould advise you to consider that it is as possible to 
 
 lose a heart as to win it." 
 
 " A heart that may be so easily lost is hardly worth 
 the trouble of keeping." 
 
 "That is a great mistake, Emmy, depend upon it; 
 if it is worth having, it is worth preserving." 
 
 "What would you have me do then — send a 
 humble petition to Mr. Ray, praying that he will 
 restore to me the light of his smiles ? " 
 
 " No ; but I would have you pay more regard to 
 his feelings, and not affect — for I believe it is affecta- 
 tion — to take pleasure in having other admirers 
 besides himself."' 
 
280 THE BKOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 "Oh! nonsense; it is the only way to keep him 
 from growing too vain." 
 
 " He is not a man likely to grow vain, and I fear 
 you are preparing sorrow for yourself, dear Emily, 
 and this it is that makes me so uneasy, for I am 
 quite sure that if Mr. Kay were to say • Emily, it is 
 best that we should part,' you would bitterly regret 
 having given him so much cause." 
 
 " Not at all. If he thinks proper to withdraw him- 
 self for no greater reason than I have given him, I 
 shall be quite indifferent about it : but he cannot, 
 Florence — he would be miserable — far more miser- 
 able than it is in his power to make me." 
 
 " It would make him unhappy for a time, no 
 doubt ; but I can see that he has a great deal of 
 firmness, and if once he should make up his mind 
 that you are not suited to each other, and that it 
 would be best to separate, I think he would act upon 
 that conviction at any sacrifice." 
 
 " And do you think a Avord would not recall him ? " 
 said Emily, laughing. 
 
 " Why should you try the experiment, dear ; sup- 
 pose it should fail ? " 
 
 " Fail, indeed ! you little know how much in love 
 he is." 
 
 " Yes, I do know ; and I know that your influence 
 over him is great, so long as it is exercised with a 
 right view; but it is not great enough to blind his 
 judgment, nor ought it to be ; for a man is infinitely 
 more worthy of respect who is capable of acting 
 independently of any other influence than his own 
 reason. Mr. Bay is capable of this, and I would 
 have you consider well before you put him to the 
 proof." 
 
 " My goodness ! what an excellent wife you will be 
 for a clergyman, Florence ; T declare I do think you 
 could write his sermons for him if he should happen 
 to be pressed for time." 
 
 *' You are making a jest of a serious matter, Emily ; 
 
f 
 
 THE BROTHEES BASSET, 281 
 
 I wish to open your eyes to your own danger, and 
 save you from future sorrow." 
 
 " But I really do not see what I have done to 
 bring down this terrible lecture upon my devoted 
 head." 
 
 " Not much in reality, certainly, for I believe you 
 
 cared as little about meeting with that young man 
 
 this morning as I did ; but you made a show of 
 
 caring about it; you looked as if you triumphed in 
 
 his attention, and aj^peared utterly regardless of 
 
 giving pain to one whom you ought to treat with the 
 
 lonsideration due to your future husband. You have 
 
 more right to encourage such attentions now, 
 
 mily, than if you were already married ; and do 
 
 ou think that your conduct this morning was such 
 
 is w^ould have been pleasing to a husband?" 
 
 " It is a very different thing ; when we are married 
 e will have a right to look black if any other gentle- 
 an should happen to be over polite, but I will not 
 admit his right now." 
 K Here the conversation was interrupted by the 
 ■return of Mr. Basset, who said that Freshfield was 
 not at home. " But I suppose we shall see him pre- 
 fcently," he added. " It is veiy strange he should 
 ■lave gone out without looking in here first." 
 f The evening wore heavily away, as it generally does 
 when somebody who is anxiously expected does not 
 lome, and at last ten o'clock, the signal for retiring 
 to rest, having struck, all hopes of seeing him that 
 light were at an end. 
 
283 THE BROTHEES BASSET. ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Soon after breakfast the next morning, Freshfield 
 came, not with his usual Ught step and joyous coun- 
 tenance, but looking pale and dejected, his heavy eyes 
 showing that he had passed a restless night. Emily 
 was alone, busily engaged, or pretending to be so, in 
 putting fresh ribbons on her bonnet, and as she was 
 sitting with her back towards the' door she affected not 
 to observe his entrance, although she knew veiy well 
 that he was in the room. He walked to the window 
 and stood there for a minute or two without speaking, 
 whilst Emily, resolved not to be the first to break the 
 silence, went on with what she was doing without 
 taking any notice of him. At length he went up to 
 her and holding out his hand, said, — 
 
 "Emily, are we friends?" ^ 
 
 Her head was bent down over her work, so that 
 she either did not or would not see the offered hand, 
 and without raising her eyes, answered carelessly, — 
 
 *' Really, Mr. Ray, you must be as well informed on 
 that subject as I am." 
 
 Deeply hurt at her indifierence, he turned again to 
 the window, and another interval of silence followed 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 283 
 
 f longer duration than before, and if Emily could 
 
 en have read all that was passing in her lover's 
 
 ind she would probably have acted a wiser part 
 
 han she did, but her evil genius certainly prevailed 
 
 hat day, tempting her to throw away her heart's 
 
 earest treasure for the momentary indulgence of 
 
 hildish pique. Several minutes had elapsed, when 
 
 reshfield again approached, and seated himself by 
 
 her side. His voice trembled a little, but he spoke 
 
 calmly, and in a determined tone. 
 
 " Miss Emily Basset, I must and will have an un- 
 derstanding with you. Is it, or is it not your desire 
 that the engagement between us should be at an end ? 
 f that is your wish say so candidly, and I will release 
 ^ou from it at once and bear my disappointment with 
 s much fortitude as I can ; but do not trifle with 
 e, Emily ; do not insult me by your open preference 
 or others, for, though I may not have been fortunate 
 nough to win your esteem, I cannot submit to be 
 •eated with contempt." 
 
 " The contempt is a creation of your own fanc}^ 
 Ir. Ray ; and perhaps I am not far wrong in sup- 
 osing you may have a motive for seeking this 
 uarrel." 
 "What motive, Emily?" he asked quietly. 
 " Oh ! sir, you know best ; Miss Compton can sing 
 your praises for half an hour together, and you can 
 
 favour her with higher compliments than you ever 
 vouchsafe to bestow upon me." 
 "What have I said, Miss Emily?" 
 *' Only that she is the most amiable i)erson you 
 ever knew, and would make the best wife in the 
 world." 
 
 " I said one of the most amiable persons — and one 
 of the best wives — ^nor will I unsay a single word of 
 what I said ; for I do believe her to be a most amiable 
 and estimable person, and that the man she marries 
 will be a happy man, if he has sense to appreciate 
 her good qualities." 
 
284 THE BROTHEBS BASSET. 
 
 This was spoken with some warmth, for the speaker 
 was really angry at the implied suspicion, and could 
 not help resenting so flagrant an injustice towards 
 both himself and the unoffending Alice; but his 
 reply was little calculated to restore peace, for Emily 
 was not in a frame of mind to see either her own 
 conduct or his m a right light, and it only had the 
 effect of urging on the mischievous spirit that pos- 
 sessed her to try his powers of endurance to the ut- 
 most. She therefore answered with provoking 
 irony, — 
 
 " It would indeed be a pity that such surpassing 
 excellence should be underrated when there is at 
 least one who can estimate it at its highest value." 
 
 " It would be a pity, and I dare say it will be pro- 
 perly estimated ; but why should we speak of Miss 
 Compton, Emily? what has she to do with the ques- 
 tion between us ? " 
 
 " A great deal, sir. You thought proper to say that 
 I insulted you with my undisguised preference for 
 others ; now I certainly might retort the observation 
 if I cared enough about it to do so." 
 
 " If you cared ! " he repeated indignantly, at the 
 same time rising and pacing the room with uncon- 
 trollable agitation ; " if you cared — then why have 
 you deceived me. Why have you suffered me to 
 believe that you ever did care for me, and led me on 
 to trust all my happiness to the truth of that be- 
 lief?" 
 
 " I did not tell you to trust all your happiness 
 to it." 
 
 "At least you have taught me the folly of doing so 
 now, and I trust it is not yet too late to profit by the 
 lesson." 
 
 Emily held up her bonnet, as if she was admiring 
 its new trimming, and began to hum a lively tune. 
 This was too much for the already lacerated feelings 
 of the noble-hearted young man, who, darting upon 
 her a look in which reproach, anger, sorrow, and 
 
 I 
 
THE CnoTHEKS MssJiT. 283 
 
 liw^ouncled pride -were all blended, he left the room and 
 Ithe house, without uttering another word. 
 m- " He must be taught a little more humility," said 
 Emily to herself as soon as he was gone ; still she 
 did not feel quite at ease, and half wished she had 
 not suffered him to depart under his present impres- 
 sion of her indifference. 
 
 Freshfield went home with a heavy heart, and a 
 firm purpose to break the tie, dear as it was to him, 
 that boded so little peace for the future, and he spent 
 the whole of that miserable day — the most miserable 
 he had ever experienced during the whole course of 
 his life — in forming his plans and writing a farewell 
 letter to 'her he had loved so fondly. It cost him 
 
 I many painful efforts, and once or twice his resolution 
 wavered, so that he threw aside the pen, and mur- 
 mured, — 
 " I cannot do it ; " but his better judgment came to 
 his aid, and he finished the hard task he had imposed 
 on himself. 
 His letter contained not one reproachful word ; it 
 was manly, kind, and even tender. He spoke with 
 great feeling of the unhappiness of a marriage with- 
 out mutual love and implicit confidence ; he lamented 
 , his own deficiency in those brilliant attractions that 
 ■he perceived were requisite to gain her heart; ex- 
 ^pressed the deepest interest in her future fate, and 
 ' ended by saying that whomsoever she might honour 
 with her preference, he hoped she would meet with a 
 return as ardent and sincere as his own would have 
 proved had it been his happy lot to win her regard. 
 This being finished and sealed, he turned his thoughts 
 towards such other measures as were necessary for 
 the accomplishment of the purpose he had in view. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I must go ; for if I remain here, 
 I might be tempted to do that which I should perhaps 
 regret all my life. It is better that we should part- 
 now, and for ever ; she never would be happy witl;K 
 man like me, therefore it will be better for us X 
 
 < 
 
286 THE BROTHERS BASSE.T. 
 
 I must be all to her, or nothing. All, it is plain I am 
 not ; and, bitter as is the alternative, I will submit to 
 it, rather than run the risk of sacrificing the peace of 
 my whole future life. A year or two of absence will 
 banish the remembrance of this unfortunate attach- 
 ment, and save me from the wretchedness of finding 
 myself united to a woman who does not love me." 
 
 With such reflections as these, he made all the 
 needful preparations for his departure early on the 
 following day, so that it was long past midnight be- 
 fore he retired to rest. 
 
 In the meantime Emily had been revolving in her 
 mind how she should receive him when he came 
 again ; for that he would come again before the day 
 was over, she did not for an instant doubt. 
 
 "Where is Freshfield this evening ? " said Norman, 
 who had been at Bridge House all the afternoon, but 
 did not notice his absence until it was getting late. 
 
 " I believe I have offended the gentleman," replied 
 Emily, " and so he chooses to sulk by himself." 
 
 Norman shook his head, and looked grave. 
 
 " I am afraid, Emily, you are not acting very wisely ; 
 Freshfield is a very good fellow, but you had better 
 mind what you are about." 
 
 She laughed, and pretended to treat the matter 
 lightly, but it was easy to see that his prolonged 
 absence caused her more anxiety than she would con- 
 fess, and when she bade Florence " Good night," she 
 said, — 
 
 " I suppose I must set this foolish affair to rights 
 to-mon'ow." 
 
 " I wish you had done so to-day, love ; but, better 
 late than never." 
 
 The morning came, and hour after hour wore away, 
 yet Freshfield did not appear. Emily tried to be gay, 
 but it was a useless effort ; her eyes were constantly 
 turned to the window, and her ears were bent to catch 
 any distant sound that might indicate his approach. 
 She looked and listened in vain, for he was many 
 
THE BEOTHEBS BASSET. S87 
 
 miles away, and his voice of gladness and his looks 
 of love, in which her heart had delighted, were now 
 mong the bright things of the past. At length came 
 e messenger of evil tidings, and the letter he had 
 ft with directions that it should be delivered at a 
 ertain hour, was brought to her. She opened it with 
 merry laugh, saying, "Oh! he is coming romid at 
 st;" but, as she read, her smile vanished, her 
 olour faded, and, quitting the room abrujDtly, she 
 ew to her own apartment, where Florence soon after- 
 ards found her in tears. 
 " What is the matter, Emijy?" 
 She made no reply, but put the letter into the hand 
 f her friend, who read it with sincere sorrow, for she 
 law at once that the writer was in earnest, and that, 
 unless an immediate reconciliation could be effected, 
 mily would never be the wife of Mr. Bay. 
 "You must answer this at once, Emily; you must 
 own yourself in the wrong." 
 
 " I will not," she answered passionately. " He has 
 chosen to desert me for a mere trifle, and he may 
 
 go." 
 
 "It is not a trifle, dearest. Oh ! Emily, that is 
 
 khere your mistake has been ; nothing is a trifle that 
 ssens the confidence of a lover, and, if you have 
 any regard for jMr. Eay, you will endeavour to re- 
 store it." 
 
 R" How? What would you have me do ?" 
 " I would have you write to him frankly and kindly; 
 e fancies he does not possess your aff'ection. Do 
 not leave him in that error, for it is one that is fatal 
 to your peace as well as his own." 
 
 " I cannot humble myself so far, Florence. I . 
 would rather never see him again than make such a 
 concession." 
 
 " Then I am afraid it is probable you will never see 
 him again, if that is your determination. Let me 
 beg of you to think better of it, Emily, and avert the 
 evil while it is in your power to do so." 
 
288 ' THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 After some further arguments to the same effect, 
 Emily agreed that Norman should act as mediator, 
 and go to Mr. Eay in the evening to offer some expla- 
 nation -with regard to the unfortunate affair of the 
 Sunday, which had occasioned all this mischief; but 
 ere the evening arrived, Emily learned that her lover 
 was gone, no one knew whither, and that the farm 
 was to be occupied by a stranger. 
 
THE BEOTHEnS BASSET. 989 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 *' Claudia," said Mr/Ingleby, one clay after dinner, " I 
 met an old friend of yours in the city this morning." 
 "Did you, dear? Who was that?" 
 " Sir William Ferndale ; I had not seen him before, 
 since I committed the folly of getting married, so, of 
 course, he had to say all manner of civil things about 
 it" 
 
 Mrs. Ingleby laughed, and so did her husband. 
 " I hope," she said, " you did not tell him you had 
 found out it was a folly." 
 
 " No, no, I kepttliat snug to myself. But I was go- 
 ing to tell you, we had a long talk together, and I was 
 jorry to hear but a very indifferent account of his son." 
 " Of Frank ? Wliy, what's the matter, is he ill ? " 
 " No ; it has nothing to do with his health, and I 
 bally don't know wdiy I should say I am sorry, for 
 le must be a most unprincipled fellow, and richly 
 leserves all he has met with. He was actually mar- 
 ried, Claudia, before his engagement^ with you was 
 broken off." 
 
 " Married, George ! impossible ! " 
 " It is true, nevertheless. He was entrapped, it 
 seems, into a marriage while he was in France, with 
 a woman who passed herself off for an Italian coun- 
 tess, but turned out, as might have been expected, a 
 person of very doubtful reputation, who had been an 
 actress. He brought her here to London, where she 
 
 19 
 
390 THE BEOTHEBS BASSE'S. 
 
 was soon recognised, and of course not admitted into 
 any respectable society, and the wretched dupe of a 
 husband was ashamed to show his face upon circuit 
 or auy where else." 
 
 " What has become of him, then?" said Claudia, 
 who was very much shocked at this account of one 
 whom she had once regarded as her own future hus- 
 band. 
 
 " He has done what many men do in desperate 
 circumstances — gone off to Australia." 
 
 "And his wife?" 
 
 " She is here, acting at one of the minor theatres, 
 and is constantly annoying poor Sir William, who 
 looks like the shadow of his former self, so thin 
 and careworn. He told me all this with tears in his 
 eyes, poor fellow ! I asked him to come and see us." 
 
 " Did you, dear ? That was kind'; I am glad of it. 
 So poor Frank is gone to Australia. I do really pity 
 him ; for I think his faults proceeded more from 
 weakness than want of principle." 
 • " A weak man, Claudia, is almost sure to become 
 an unprincipled one, even if he is not so to begin 
 with. It wants firmness of character to act always 
 with a strict regard to honour and probity, for there 
 are, unfortunately, plenty of temptations to do other- 
 wise; but there was something worse than mere 
 weakness about young Ferndale — there was a selfish- 
 ness and coldness of heart that was hardly natural at 
 his age ; he had not a spark of the generous, noble 
 spirit we look for in so young a man ; old fellows like 
 me are apt to grow cold and cautious, for we have 
 had enough experience of the world to make us so ; 
 but a man at five and twenty should have more liberal 
 feelings." 
 
 " Experience has not quenched your liberal feel- 
 ings, deai^ George, I am sure." 
 
 " There now — I gave you a fine opportunity (^m 
 paying me a compliment, and you missed it." ^ 
 
 " I was afraid of making you conceited, or I shouL 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. S91 
 
 lave said, you were not yet entitled to claim the 
 privileges that belong to old fellows," 
 
 " The compliment you did pay me, love, was a bet- 
 ter one, for it was sincere. I wonder we have not heard 
 from your father lately ; we must go down there soon, 
 I think, and see how they are all getting on." 
 
 *' I should be very glad if you could ; I am afraid 
 from Nonnan's last letter that my father's health is 
 breaking very fast. Oh ! George, if we could but 
 hear anything of Charles " 
 
 " Why, he would be happier, no doubt ; but I do 
 not think it has much to do with his declining state 
 of health, for I was talking about him the other day, 
 to your old medical man at Kensington, Mr. Saunders, 
 a very clever man he is by the way, and he says there 
 are causes likely to produce gradual decay, totally 
 independent of mental anxiety. I was glad to hear 
 him say so, because, in case of the worst, it might 
 hereafter be a consolation to your brother to know 
 that such was the case." 
 
 "It might indeed; and God grant he may return 
 before my dear father is taken from us. It is now 
 more than a twelvemonth since he went away ; is it 
 not strange we should never have heard a single word 
 of him in all that time ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is; I hardly know what to think of it." 
 
 At this moment a servant came in with a letter on 
 a silver tray, which he handed to his master. 
 
 " For me, James, is it — by post?" 
 
 " No, sir ; a man left it, he looked like a porter." 
 
 " Did he say where he came from?" 
 
 " No, sir; he only asked if that was right." 
 
 " I wish, James, you would always ask where people 
 come from ; you know I have told you that before." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then mind you remember in future." 
 
 " I will, sir," replied James, as he had invariably 
 replied before to the same injunction, and as he 
 would, in all probability, reply again, as there was not 
 the most remote chance that the wish thus mildly 
 
39-2 THK BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 expressed by his master would dwell in bis remem- 
 brance one instant after he had closed the dining- 
 room door. 
 
 " Now who is this from, I wonder ? " said Mr. Ingleby, 
 as he broke the seal. " It looks like Kay's handwriting, 
 — and it is too ; a long letter from Freshfield Eay." 
 
 " I hope nothing is the matter," said Claudia, 
 watching with some anxiety her husband's serious 
 looks as he read the first few lines. " What is it, 
 George ? Is my father worse ? " 
 
 " No, dear — nothing of that kind ; but here's a 
 pretty piece of business ; it is all off between your 
 sister and young Eay ; she has been playing fast and 
 loose with him, I suppose, till she has tired him out." 
 
 " I am not at all surprised at it," said Claudia ; 
 " but extremely sorry. What does he say ? I hope 
 it is nothing but what may be arranged." 
 
 " I doubt it ; for Jie seems quite in earnest : how- 
 ever, I will read you the letter, ana you shall judge for 
 yourself." '" 
 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " My mind has been, and still is, so painfully 
 excited by the unhappy occurrences of the last few 
 days, that, although I am now in London, I feel quifo 
 incapable of paying you a visit, and must trust to 
 your goodness to believe that it is neither from want 
 of friendship, nor from any consciousness of wrong- 
 doing, that I leave town again without seeing you. I 
 have left Hampshire, probably for a considerable 
 time — ^perhaps for ever ; but I trust my motives will 
 bear the strictest investigation, and that not the 
 slightest imputation will rest on my honour or since- 
 rity in all that I have hitherto professed, for I am now 
 acting under a firm conviction that the course I have 
 adopted is the right one, and that which is best for 
 my own peace, and also for the future happiness of 
 her whose happiness will ever be dear to me, though 
 fate has decreed that mine shall not be shared with 
 lier. When I offered myself to Miss Emily Basset I 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. . 293 
 
 ad reason to believe that I was lionoured with so 
 luch of her regard and esteem as might give mo 
 onfidence to hope that I should win the first place in 
 er affections, for with that only could I be con- 
 ented, and her acceptance of my offer I looked upon 
 s a confirmation of those hopes. But I was de- 
 ceived ; I find it requires more shining qualities than 
 I possess to gain that love without which married life 
 would be a life of wretchedness; therefore nothing 
 remains for me but to withdraw my pretensions, and 
 .seek, in change of scene, to lose the remembrance of 
 that short-lived dream of happiness which has left me 
 ^or the present a miserable man. I cannot bear to 
 Kremain within sight of the wreck of all my fondly- 
 Beherished hopes, therefore I shall give the charge of 
 the farm to Benson's brother, who is a steady fellow, 
 jfcand one that I can trust. I have no doubt he would 
 ' take it for a term of years, but that will be an after 
 consideration, as I cannot tell how I may feel in a 
 year or two about returning to it ; and I am not will- 
 ing to give up the home where I was bom and where 
 hoped to pass all my days. I propose going first to 
 ublin, then to Cork, and afterwards making a tour 
 hrough the western and northern provinces of Ire- 
 and and the Highlands of Scotland. This will 
 ccupy the summer and autumn, and I think of 
 spending the winter either at Edinburgh or Paris. 
 ^JBeyond this I cannot say. If I should not return to 
 "Hill Farm, Benson can be either your tenant or mine 
 
 »as you please, but I hope that one year's absence may 
 enable me to overcome this ill-fated attachment, for it 
 does not follow that one dark cloud is to overshadow 
 the whole of a man's existence, and when this has 
 passed away I may again be able to enjoy life as I did 
 before it came between me and my sunshine. I have 
 wiitten to Mr. Basset and to Norman, as I thought 
 an explanation was due to both, although I believe 
 Emily will be candid enough to clear me from the 
 reproach of fickleness or dishonourable conduct. 
 Give my sincere regards to Mrs, Ingleby, and tell her 
 
294 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 that I rely on her accustomed goodness to judge of 
 me kindly. Would to Heaven such happiness as 
 yours had fallen to my lot, I should have known how 
 to prize it; but it was not to be, and I must bear the 
 disappointment. And now, my very excellent friend, 
 I bid you a long farewell, trusting, however, that we 
 shall meet again with the same cordiality as hereto- 
 fore, till when, believe me yours with the truest 
 esteem, "Freshfield Ray." 
 
 Claudia was so much affected at this letter that she 
 could not help shedding tears, for she knew that 
 Freshfield felt all that he expressed ; and she believed 
 too that Emily, whatever follies she might have been 
 guilty of, was sincerely attached to him, and would be 
 very unhappy. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of it, my dear?" said 
 Mr. Ingleby. 
 
 " I am afraid it is all over, indeed," Claudia replied ; 
 *• and yet I know that Emily likes him much better 
 than she does any one else." 
 
 " Then why has she been so silly as to make him 
 think otherwise ? " 
 
 " From mere coquetry. I have often cautioned 
 her against it, and so has Florence, for we both have 
 been afraid it would come to this at last ; Norman, 
 too, has often talked to her very seriously." 
 
 " It is a great pity," said Mr. Ingleby; " she has 
 lost as worthy a fellow as ever lived in the world. I 
 do not know a better young man in eveiy respect than 
 Freshfield Ray, nor one who is more truly a gentle- 
 man in point of feeling. I am very sorry ; very sorry, 
 indeed, for it is a loss to us all. However, there is 
 nothing to be done ; we cannot solicit a man's return 
 in such a case ; so the thing must be left to chance ; 
 and the chance is, that, before he comes back he will 
 have met with somebody else who will know better 
 how to value the heart of such a man than your 
 foolish sister." 
 
THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 For several weeks after the departure of Freshfield 
 ay, Emily clung to the vain hope that he would re- 
 turn, or at least that he would write to her again and 
 give her an opportunity of replying to his letter, for 
 she could not believe that he really meant this part- 
 ing to be final, yet the time passed on, and she neither 
 saw nor heard from him. Every footstep made her 
 start and tremble, every time the postman came to the 
 gate her heart throbbed with an emotion she could 
 not suppress, and each fresh disappointment was fol- 
 lowed by that sickness of the soul which all have felt 
 who have indulged in visions of happiness never to 
 be realised. "With each succeeding day hope grew 
 still fainter, till at length it deserted her altogether ; 
 she lost her spirits, her colour fled, and the least 
 word spoken either more gently or more roughly than 
 usual would bring tears into her eyes. Florence did 
 all she could to cheer her by constant endeavours to 
 draw her attention to other subjects than the all- 
 engrossing one that occupied her thoughts; but these 
 attempts, instead of having the desired effect, were un- 
 justly attributed to a want of feeling for her sorrows, 
 and this impression caused her to refrain from speaking 
 of them, so that Florence believed her efforts w^ere 
 
296 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 in some degree successful. iMr. Basset never men- 
 tioned llie name of Freshfield Ray, or alluded to him 
 in any way, for, notwithstanding his explanation and 
 Emily s desire to exculpate him by taking all the blame 
 on herself, her father thought he had not behaved 
 well, and, on first being made acquainted with what 
 had occurred, said it was a second edition of Frank 
 Ferndale, nor would he listen to any excuse for, or 
 palliation of, Freshfield's conduct, for he saw that his 
 child was unhappy, and felt angry with him who was 
 the cause of that unhappiness ; but Norman was more 
 just, and if he spoke of the absentee at all, it was in 
 a friendly manner, but this was not often, for he 
 thought it best to say very little about him. 
 
 The only person to whom Emily could unburthen 
 her heart, "and look for such consolation as was most 
 pleasing to her, was Alice Compton, into whose sym- 
 pathising bosom she could pour all her grievances 
 without restraint, for Alice liked to talk of Freshfield 
 Ray, whom she believed to be the perfection of human 
 kind, and Emily liked to hear her speak in his i^raise, 
 so that it was a theme of which neither of them ever 
 grew weary. Sometimes, too, Alice would speak hope- 
 fully of the happy changes often wrought by time, 
 and however little foundation there seemed to be for 
 such bright hopes, they were veiy delightful for the 
 listener to hear, and for the moment to dwell ui^on. 
 She candidly confessed to Alice the feelings of 
 jealousy that had prompted her to be guilty of the 
 folly that had led to consequences she so little 
 anticipated, and now so bitterly lamented. 
 
 " Oh ! if he had but known," she said, " how truly 
 I loved him, and how little I thought of any one else 
 in comparison with him," he would not liave deserted 
 me thus ; but how was he to know it Avhen I did 
 everything to make him think otherwise? How very, 
 very foolish I have been ! " 
 
 Such conversations as these were a great relief to 
 her mind, so that she frequently took a walk to the 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 297 
 
 ottagc, but Alice did not often retm-n the visit, being 
 [now entirely occupied with her own household affairs, 
 which afforded her inexpressible delight, both from 
 
 B their novelty and the importance they gave her. 
 Meanwhile the time fixed for the marriage of Norman 
 and Florence was drawing near, and as it approached 
 poor Emily felt more melancholy than ever, for it had 
 been settled, before the unfortunate disagreement 
 Kbetween her and her betrothed, that the two weddings 
 should take place on the same day ; it was now, there- 
 ore, a painful subject, and Florence, aware that it 
 biiust naturally be so, avoided as much as possible 
 making any allusion to it. 
 
 Thus the days, and weeks, and months glided on 
 till the summer had begun to give place to the richer 
 [TL)ut less vivid beauties of the autumn, and prepara- 
 tions for the bridal could no longer be delayed. 
 
 Norman had taken a small house close to his 
 churcli, and Mrs. Robertson, with all the interest that 
 kind-hearted matrons generally feel in the affairs of 
 tyoung people under such circumstances, had 
 superintended the furnishing and arrangement of 
 it, which services were very acceptable both to 
 Florence and Norman, who had indeed much cause 
 for gratitude, as the kind lady did not forget to send 
 in at her own cost many an elegant trifle which the 
 young couple could not have afforded, and which, to 
 use her own expression, when Norman ventured once 
 to remonstrate as not knowing whether he was to be 
 answerable for some piece of extravagance, was 
 *' neither here nor there." 
 
 Now all this was very pleasant, and evei'ything 
 seemed progressing admirably. Mrs. Robertson had 
 called on Florence at Bridge House, and Florence 
 had been to the rectory, where her reception had been 
 such as was extremely gratifying to Norman, who 
 hoped that the rectors lady would prove to lier a 
 valuable friend, and also an agreeable companion, 
 notwithstanding the disparity of their ages, for there 
 
298 THE BEOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 are many cases where youth and age may associate 
 with mutual advantage. 
 
 Emily still continued her visits at the cottage, 
 where all that cheerless summer she had found her 
 best solace, till about three weeks before the time 
 appointed for the celebration of the marriage, when 
 she obsei^ved a marked change in the manner of her 
 friend, who behaved to her, if not with coldness, at 
 least with a degree of reserve she was quite at a loss 
 to account for. Instead of speaking freely and kindly 
 as usual on the subject that always engrossed at least 
 two-thirds of their conversation, she appeared desirous 
 of avoiding it, coloured whenever the name of Mr. 
 Ray w^as mentioned, and gave confused answers to all 
 that was said about him. Emily was surprised, she 
 felt uneasy, still she took no notice, thinking it might 
 l^erhaps be only fancy, and that the next time she 
 went it would not be so ; but again and again it was 
 the same, and at last she asked Alice what was the 
 meaning of so strange an alteration. 
 
 " I did not know I was altered," she replied. 
 
 " But you are altered, Alice, and there must be 
 some reason for it; you do not care to talk of Fresh- 
 field as you used to do, and when I mention his 
 name you do not look me in the face. Why is it?" 
 
 " Well, perhaps it would be better if we were not 
 to talk of him quite so much, Emily, it can answer no 
 good purpose, and it would be wiser if you were to try 
 to forget him." 
 
 " Perhaps it would," said Emily, pettishly, " and as 
 you think so, I shall certainly in future keep my 
 thoughts to myself, for I see that nobody feels any- 
 thing for me." 
 
 " You are mistaken, eveiybody feels a gi^eat deal for 
 you; but we cannot make circumstances different 
 from what they are ; and, in short, Emily, it would be 
 better that neither of us should speak of Mr. Eay to 
 each other again." 
 
 "Then, Miss Compton," said Emily rising, with 
 
THE BROTHEBS BASSET. 299 
 
 flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes, "if that is your 
 opinion, and you will give no explanation of such a 
 sudden and extraordinary change in your sentiments 
 and your behaviour to me altogether, we can no longer 
 be friends, for you must have some very powerful 
 motive that you do not choose to acquaint me with." 
 
 " I am soiTy you should be offended. Miss Emily; 
 but, whatever my motives may be, I am not singular 
 in my opinion, for I know that your brother and Miss 
 
 filmour both think the same." 
 '* They have thought so from the first, but it is only 
 just now that you have adopted those ideas, and you 
 
 «annot wonder that I should be surprised. Do not 
 mistake me, Alice ; do not suppose I cannot live with- 
 out talking of Mr. Ray ; but I have given you my 
 whole confidence ; I have told you what I would not 
 have breathed to any one besides, and should not to 
 you if I could have foreseen this, or had not believed 
 
 Kou to be a sincere friend." 
 " I could not foresee it myself," said Alice quietly, 
 and I am your sincere friend." 
 ^ " That remains to be proved," said Emily, tying 
 Hpn her bonnet. 
 
 B *' Are you not going to stay to tea. Miss Emily?" 
 B " No, I thank you, it is too far to walk after tea 
 |liow that the days are so short. Good afternoon, 
 Alice ; " and she gave her hand rather coolly. 
 
 i Alice said " Good-bye," and so they parted ; Emily 
 esolving within herself not to go near the cottage 
 again until the mystery, for such it appeared to her, 
 ^was cleared up. 
 
 The cottage where the Comptons resided being on 
 the road to Andover, Norman, who had become ac- 
 quainted with Mr. Compton, generally called there in 
 his way to Bridge House ; but if he was aware 
 of the coolness between Emily and Alice, he said 
 nothing about it, nor did Emily mention it either to 
 him or to Florence. 
 
 It happened, however, a few days afterwards, that 
 
300 THE BllOTHEKS BASSES. 
 
 he heard something there respecting the quondam 
 Mrs. Heaviside, which he did communicate, and 
 whatever might have been the faults and folUes 
 of that silly woman, no one could help pitying her 
 misfortunes. 
 
 It appeared that she had been induced by Captain 
 Homer to marry him without having any settlement 
 of her property made upon herself, so that everything 
 was in his power — the infatuated widow having been 
 persuaded that a settlement could be made as well 
 after the marriage as before it, and that his motive 
 for such delay was to keep the affair a secret from 
 his uncle for a short time. 
 
 As soon as they were married they went to Paris, 
 where for two or three weeks she was very gay and 
 veiy happy; but even before the honeymoon was 
 over, she began to have reasons for being dissatisfied 
 with her dashing husband, whose conduct she had" 
 occasion to suspect was not of the most exemplary 
 nature. 
 
 On their return to London, she soon learned that 
 the prospective title with which he had dazzled her 
 senses was a myth, and this terrible disappointment 
 was speedily followed by the equally astounding dis- 
 coveiy that he was involved in debt to an immense 
 amount. Then came reproaches on the one hand, 
 contempt and neglect on the other ; and, at last, the 
 unprincipled adventurer, having converted everything 
 into money, disappeared, and his wretched wife was 
 left almost penniless. In this miserable condition 
 she wrote to her brother, who said in his rough, 
 good-natured way, he was sorry for her, although 
 it was no more than she deserved, and he supposed 
 he must allow her something to live upon, as he 
 could not have the comfort of his home interfered 
 with, by having her to reside with him and his 
 daughter. 
 
THE BEOTHErvS BASSET. 
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 [T>vahtecr but two days to the wedding, and, at 
 Norman's earnest request, Mr. Robertson had con- 
 sented to perform the ceremony at the church of the 
 village, near Bridge House, although he would have 
 preferred that it should have taken place at his own 
 church, and Norman would have yielded the point, 
 but that Florence said she could not bear the idea of 
 being made a public spectacle for all the gossips 
 of Andover; therefore he had won over the good- 
 natured rector to accede to her washes, and marry 
 them at the village in a quiet way. 
 
 Mrs. Robertson had promised to be present on the 
 occasion, and the happy pair were to spend a fort- 
 night in the Isle of Wight, the rector having said, 
 laughingly,— 
 
 " You shall have a parson's week. Basset ; that is, 
 from Monday morning to Saturday week at night, 
 for I cannot take more than one Sunday upon 
 myself." 
 
 However, he afterwards agreed to take two Sun- 
 days, provided he could get a deputy for the after- 
 noon service; and so it ^vas arranged that the 
 
302 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 maiTiage should take place on the Thursday, and 
 it was now Tuesday afternoon. 
 
 Emily was gone out to walk with her father. Poor 
 Emily! she had done her best to appear cheerful 
 amid the general joy, yet, in spite of all her efforts, 
 the tears would now and then gush from her eyes 
 when she was alone, as the thought would obtrude 
 itself on her mind, " And it might have been my 
 wedding-day too." 
 
 Florence had excused herself from walking out 
 with Emily and Mr. Basset, on the plea of having a 
 great many things to do ; but Norman came in soon 
 afterwards, and of course the things, whatever they 
 were, remained undone. The happy lovers were 
 sitting together by a window, that looked into the 
 garden fronting the house, whence they could see 
 any visitors approaching for a short distance along 
 the London road. 
 
 The Inglebys were not expected till the next day, 
 but they had sent down some very handsome presents 
 for the occasion, and besides those intended for the 
 bride, Emily had received from her sister a white 
 dress and lace bonnet, with a pale blue silk mantle, 
 and other pretty things befitting a bridesmaid, chosen 
 with much good taste as becoming to her figure and 
 complexion. 
 
 " Florence," said Norman, putting his arm fondly 
 round her waist, " Florence, you are going to be 
 a poor man's wife ; does not your courage sometimes 
 fail, when you think on the life that is before 
 you?" 
 
 "If it did, Norman, I would not do you so great 
 an injustice as to enter upon it, and I hope you have 
 sufficient confidence in me to believe so." 
 
 " I have unlimited confidence in you, my own 
 dearest love. What I said implied no want of reli- 
 ance on you, but on myself. I mistrust my own power 
 to make you happy." 
 
 " You may dismiss all fears on that account, love. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 308 
 
 I mean to be liappy, and I mean to do everything I 
 
 can to make you so." 
 
 L_ This declaration was gratefully acknowledged, and 
 
 lb conversation ensued, such as is only interesting to 
 
 Pwhose engaged in it, which was at length interrupted 
 
 by the sound of approaching carriage-wheels. 
 [ |§ Now the short carriage-way leading to Bridge 
 IJPSouse branched from the high road, and went 
 nowhere else, being terminated by the hedge-row of a 
 eld belonging to the Hill Farm ; consequently any 
 ehicle turning off the road at that point was sure to 
 e coming to the house. 
 " It looks like a fly from the station," said Norman. 
 " Then it must be the Inglebys," Florence replied. 
 * Yet they were not expected till to-morrow." 
 They both rose, and awaited with some impatience 
 e coming of the carriage, wondering whom it could 
 possibly contain, until it stopped at the gate. The 
 driver dismounted, and opened the door, when a gen- 
 tleman alighted, whose face being partly concealed by 
 the scarf wound round his neck, was not immediately 
 recognised by Florence; but the instant he turned 
 his eyes full upon the window, she saw who it was, 
 and to Norman's utter astonishment, exclaimed, 
 " My father ! " 
 
 " He felt as if stunned by a sudden and violent 
 blow. Was here then to be an end to all his long- 
 cherished hopes, just as they were on the eve of com- 
 pletion ? Yet what else could such a visit portend at 
 such a moment ? With one arm round the trembling 
 girl, who really needed his support, he awaited the 
 event in torturing suspense, pressing her still closer 
 to his side, and thus they stood when Major Gilmour 
 was shown into the room. He walked straight up to 
 them with his usual stately step, and, taking his 
 daughter's hand, kissed her cheek, with more tender- 
 ness in his manner than he had ever displayed 
 before, on which Norman loosed his hold, and 
 stood at a little distance. 
 
804 THlfi BIK)THERS BASSET. 
 
 " I see you are very much surprised," the major 
 said to Florence, " and I sliould have given you some 
 notice of my intention, but I only arrived in England 
 yesterday, and Avas anxious, in consequence of what 
 I heard from my solicitor this morning, to see you 
 without delay. This is Mr. Norman Basset, I pre- 
 sume ? " 
 
 Norman bowed in silence, as he was uncertain what 
 sort of terms they were to be upon, while Florence, 
 far too much agitated to speak, burst into tears. Her 
 father, who was still holding her hand, then said to 
 Norman, " Mr. Basset, my daughter and I have not 
 met for some time, which may perhaps excuse any 
 seeming want of courtesy if I request that you will 
 give us leave for a few minutes " 
 
 Norman bowed again respectfully, and withdrew 
 without saying a word, and the father and daughter 
 remained alone together. 
 
 Major Gilmour was not a man to make a scene, or 
 to feel very sentimental under any circumstances, but 
 his tones and looks were softer than usual as he said, 
 " Florence, there has been unkindness between us, 
 but let it be forgotten. I believe I was wrong, many 
 circumstances have occurred to show me that I was 
 so, but it is all past, and I should wish it to be 
 thought of no more." 
 
 Florence, overcome by the unexpected kindness of 
 this address, could not resist the impulse to throw 
 herself into his arms, and he embraced her affec- 
 tionately. 
 
 " My dear, dear father ! this is such unlooked-for 
 happiness — I can scarcely believe it is real." 
 
 '* But I have been informed, Florence, you have 
 other schemes of happiness in view. Is this true ?" 
 
 " I had, sir, but they must now depend on you." 
 
 " If my information is correct, you have the inten- 
 tion of being married very shortly ; that is why I 
 hurried down here without apj^risirig you of my re- 
 turn. When was the ceremony to take place ?" 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 305 
 
 *• The day after to-morrow," answered Florence, in 
 faint voice, pale and trembling with the intensity of 
 
 «er excitement. 
 " Then let it be so ; I have no desire to prevent 
 ^ our marriage, or to cause any delay ; but it is highly 
 proper that I should be present, and I am glad it has 
 so happened that I have arrived in time." 
 Ift Florence hardly dared to give credit to the evi- 
 ■■ence of her own senses ; for, happy as she was in 
 ^he assurance of her father's restored favour, she had 
 felt sure that his coming in so much haste was to 
 throw obstacles in the way of her union, and, if not 
 
 to prevent it altogether, at least to j^ut it olF for an 
 mcertain period. Her grateful joy, therefore, at this 
 (oncession was unbounded, and flowed from her lips 
 n words of love and thankfulness. 
 " You will approve of Norman, sir, I am sure, wlien 
 you know him, for he is one of the best and most 
 noble-minded of men ; everybody esteems and re- 
 pects him." 
 Major Gilmour smiled as he replied, — 
 " I dare say he is perfect in your eyes, my love, 
 ut I shall reserve my opinion till I can have the 
 pportunity of judging for myself. However, I am 
 e more inclined to think well of him from what T 
 lave lately seen of his brother ; for I met with 
 harlcs Basset in India." 
 " With Charles, sir ? Is it possible ? " 
 " Yes, I met with him in a very extraordinary man- 
 or ; and I have brought a letter for his father, which, 
 I suppose, will make me a welcome visitor here." 
 
 " It will, indeed. Poor Charles ! I am so thankful; 
 but what is he doing in India ? " 
 
 " A great deal of good, I fancy. He is preaching 
 Christianity among the heathens." 
 "A missionary?" said Florence. 
 " Yes, and a most zealous one they say. He ap- 
 pears to be highly respected, and is living very com- 
 fortably. I had a great deal of conversation with 
 
 20 
 
806 THE BBOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 him, and he has placed me under obhgations of such 
 a nature, that I shall be glad to repay them in some 
 measure by any attention in my power to his family. 
 In fact I owe to Charles Basset my escape from a 
 terrible death. If it had not been for him, I should 
 certainly have been murdered by a most atrocious 
 gang of robbers. But it is a long story, and I cannot 
 tell you about it now, for here comes Mr. Basset, and 
 I must offer some apology for intruding upon him in 
 this unceremonious way." 
 
 Mr. Basset was, as may be supposed, veiy much 
 astonished at the sight of Major Gilmour, and was, 
 at first, rather more polite than cordial in his recep- 
 tion of so unexpected a visitor; but soon finding 
 that he was disposed to be extremely friendly, and 
 seeing that Florence looked pleased and happy, 
 he altered his manner, shook hands very heartily 
 with the major, and said he was rejoiced to see 
 him. 
 
 Emily, on hearing who was there, had gone in 
 search of Norman, whom she found in a very per- 
 turbed state of mind, not knowing what the effect of 
 this apparently ill-timed visit might be; and, of 
 course, with the usual ingenuity of a lover, conjuring 
 up to his imagination all the evils that could, by any 
 possibility, arise from it. 
 
 " Norman, what can be the meaning of this?" said 
 Emily; " was ever anything so unlucky?" 
 
 " I am afraid it is, indeed, Emmy. Have you seen 
 him?" 
 
 " No ; I shall hate the sight of him. Wliat a pity 
 he was not three days later." 
 
 " Where is my father ?" asked Norman. 
 
 *' In the parlour, with them," 
 
 " Then I will go back, for I cannot bear this sus- 
 pense any longer ; I must know what I have to hope 
 or to fear." 
 
 " Poor Norman ! not much to hope, I am afraid," 
 .said Emily, as her brother left the room. "It is 
 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET, 307 
 
 ost unfortunate, and I am so sorry for Florence, 
 too, it will be a dreadful disappointment." 
 
 ■^ Norman returned to the parlour, where he was 
 surprised to find a group of much happier-looking 
 
 -^aces than he had expected to see. 
 
 IK " And now I shall have the pleasure of introducing 
 
 Ifcay son to you," said Mr. Basset, as Norman entered 
 the room. 
 
 IP " And my son also," the major replied, rising and 
 giving his hand kindly to Norman, whose handsome 
 countenance was instantly suffused with a bright 
 glow of surprise and delight, as he replied that he 
 
 l^iould indeed be proud of the title. 
 
 IB His fears thus happily removed, he was all anima- 
 
 Ifcon, and in the joy of finding that his marriage was 
 not even to be delayed, he never once thought of the 
 very material change this day's occurrences had made 
 in all his future prospects. He forgot that Florence 
 was again an heiress, and that by marrying her witli 
 her father's consent he was securing a noble fortune 
 for himself; he thought of nothing but that she was 
 not to be' taken from him, and he was supremely 
 happy. After some further conversation, Major Gil- 
 inour said to Mr. Basset, — 
 
 'K" " And now, my good friend, I have some intelli- 
 gence to give you that I am sure will be acceptable. 
 I have seen a gentleman in India you will be veiy 
 glad to hear nevv^s of." 
 
 Mr. Basset clasped his hands together, and, raising 
 his eyes to heaven, murmured, " My son." 
 
 *' Is it so, sir ? " said Norman, anxiously. *' Ha^e 
 you really seen my brother ? " 
 
 '* Yes, I have, indeed, and not only seen him, but 
 passed some time with him, and have brought letters ; 
 here tliey are." And he took the packet from his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Now God be praised for all his mercies ! " said 
 the venerable father, the tears streaming down liis 
 
008 THE BROTHEPrS BASSET. 
 
 cheeks. " This is what I have i^rayed for day and 
 night, and it has come at last. And my poor boy, 
 Major Gilmour, is he well ? " 
 
 " He desired me to assure you that he is well and 
 happy ; but }'ou will see what he says himself — there 
 is his letter ; " and he gave it to Mr. Basset, who 
 rose from his chair, but was too much agitated to 
 leave the room without assistance. 
 
 "Give' me your arm, Norman," he said, " I must 
 read this alone." 
 
 Norman supported his trembling steps to his own 
 apartment, and when they reached it he said, — 
 
 " Now leave me, my son, and come back in half an 
 hour." 
 
 As soon as he was alone he fell on his knees, and 
 relieved his over-excited feelings by pouring out his 
 thanks to the Great Disposer of all human events, 
 for this unexpected, this almost unhoped-for blessing. 
 Then with somewhat more composure, and a heai't 
 overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, he sat down to 
 read 'Charles's letter. In the meantime ]\Iajor Gil- 
 mour spoke to Norman respecting the fortune he 
 intended to give his daughter, and told him that he 
 had instructed his lawyer to prepare certain deeds of 
 settlement, and bring them down on the following 
 day to be regularly signed and sealed ; and he also 
 intimated that, as he mulerstood Mr. llobertson had 
 the right of selling his benefice, and was thinking of 
 doing so, he, INIajor Gilmour, had some thoughts of 
 making a proposal for tlie purchase of the advowson, 
 j^'ovided Norman should feel disposed to settle per- 
 manently in Hampsliire ; but this, he said, would be 
 an after consideration. Great was the happiness that 
 reigned over the family circle at Bridge House that 
 evening. Major Gilmour related at full length all 
 that had happened to him in India, dwelUng espe- 
 cially on tlie services Charles Basset had rendered 
 him, and the high estimation in which he seemed to 
 be held. When he mentioned tliat Charles had 
 

 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 80 Q 
 
 assumed the name of Yilliers, an exclamation of sur- 
 prise burst from all present, as every one was aware 
 of the extraordinary interest Mr. Basset had taken in 
 the letters signed ^vith that name in the Magazine, 
 Avhich, it now appeared, were written by Charles him- 
 
 l^elf. 
 
 I* "I never could account for my strange feelings 
 about those letters," said Mr. Basset; "but it is ac- 
 counted for now. The ways of Providence are won- 
 derful, and far beyond our comprehension." 
 
 There was so much to be told and listened to, 
 that it was late when the party separated for the 
 night, and as a room had been prepared for Major 
 Gilmour, he consented to sleep at Bridge House; but 
 Norman, who had ridden over on one of Mr. Eobert- 
 son's horses, returned to Andover, 
 
 The next day brought the Inglebys, and also the 
 solicitor, whose cold, formal manners had so dis- 
 tressed Florence on a less happy occasion ; but she 
 found him exactly the same now ; he was just as cold 
 
 Knd sententious in drawing up the marriagesettle- 
 lents of the rich heiress, as in advising the dis- 
 Rrded daughter respecting the disposal of a few 
 nmdred pounds. They were to him equally matters 
 f business, and he treated them in the same w^ay. 
 
310 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTErv XLIT. 
 
 The important morning at length arrived when Flo- 
 rence and Norman Avere to be miited by ihos'e sacred 
 ties that man is enjoined "not to put asunder," and 
 although every precaution had been taken to keep the 
 proceedings as secret as possible, it was known 
 throughout the town of Andover that Mr. Robertson's 
 handsome young curate was going to be married that 
 morning, and a great many of the townsfolks had set 
 otT by break of day on an excursion to the village 
 where the ceremony was to take place. 
 
 Many wonderful stories were in circulation respect- 
 ing the return of the bride's father, who was supposed 
 to be dead, from some unknown Eldorado, bringing 
 witli him riches beyond all human calculation ; and 
 these tales were embellished, according to the fancy 
 of the narrator, with various strange and mysterious 
 circumstances said to have happened in the foreign 
 land from which he had come, and which seemed to 
 have no particular locality. At eight o'clock the vil- 
 lage-bells began to ring with loud and merry peals ; 
 the sun was shining splendidly, and everything looked 
 as bright and beautiful as it ought to look on such a 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 811 
 
 happy occasion. Still there was one heart not so 
 glad as tlie rest ; one for whom the hrilliant morning 
 had no charms, to whom the joyous sounds of the 
 tuneful bells gave no delight. 
 
 |L Emily had risen very early, for she could not sleej^ ; 
 
 '^nd was standing at the open window listening in sad- 
 ness and thinking of what might have been. She 
 was looking over a field through which she had often 
 walked to the Hill Farm with one who was no longer 
 there; her eyes were pensively fixed on a narrow 
 path by which he used to come, because it was a 
 shorter way than round by the road, and she was 
 thinking of the many times she had watched him 
 bounding along that path with his light footstep, and 
 springing over the gate at the end of it. In melan- 
 choly mood she still was gazing on the objects that 
 recalled so many painful recollections, when suddenly 
 she started and her heart beat with violent emotion, 
 for a tall athletic form crossed that very pathway, 
 which she felt almost certain must be Freshfield Eay 
 himself. She had but caught a momentary glimpse 
 of him as the high hedge instantly hid him from her 
 sight, but his figure was too remarkable to be mis- 
 taken, and she kept her eyes fixed with intense eager- 
 ness on the spot where he had passed, in the hope of 
 seeing him again. She did not move, she scarcely 
 breathed, she pressed her hand on her beating heart 
 as if to prevent it from bursting its bounds ; and thus 
 she stood for several minutes watching for the same 
 apparition, yet half dreading that when it came again 
 it might disappoint her expectations. 
 
 At length, at the farthest extremity of the path, 
 from behind a clump of trees, the same figure 
 emerged, and turning towards the farm-house, speedily 
 vanished ; but she had then seen him distinctly, and 
 all doubt of his identity was removed. Surprise, 
 hope, joy, and fear alternately took possession of her 
 mind, to the exclusion of all other thoughts and feel- 
 ings. The bells still rang on, but she did not hear 
 
312 THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 them ; the mhiutes were passmg rapidly away that 
 ought to have heen employed in preparing for the 
 approaching ceremony, but she heeded them not ; 
 everything else was forgotten in the one all-absorbing 
 thought that Freshfield Ray was at the farm, and that 
 she had seen him. 
 
 Nearly an hour had elapsed, and she was still stand- 
 ing at the window in the same attitude, when Claudia 
 came into her room, 
 
 " Emily, dear, are you not dressed ? Mr. and Mrs. 
 Robertson have been here some time, and everybody 
 is quite ready. What can you have been about ?" 
 
 Emily, thus awakened from her reverie, turned 
 hastily from the window, and throwing her arms 
 round her sister's neck, exclaimed, in a voice half 
 choked with emotion, — 
 
 "Oh! Claudia. I have seen him, — T have seen 
 Freshfield — lie is come back " 
 
 " Where did you see him?" 
 
 " In the field, just now. I am quite sure it was 
 he, — I could not be mistaken." 
 
 " No, love ; you were not mistaken, Mr. Eay is at 
 the fiu'm ; and Ave all knew it yesterday, but were 
 afraid to tell you." 
 
 " Afraid, Claudia ! Why ? Why should you say 
 afraid ? Ah ! then — " and she burst into tears. 
 
 " Emily, Emily, compose yourself, and let me help 
 you to dress. If I had supposed for a moment that 
 you would have seen Mr. Hay I should have told you 
 he was here ; but we thought it better you should not 
 know it till we were in the church." 
 
 " Is he to be there ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is, dear ; and you must summon all your 
 courage to go through this morning well, at any rate, 
 for it will be a trial for you." 
 
 " Then why did you not prepare me for it?" 
 
 " There were reasons, Emily, which you v/ill know 
 by and bye. You would not have been allowed to meet 
 Ml'. Pvay" without knowing that you were going to 
 
^^^P^^* THE BEOTHEES BASSET. ^]o 
 
 mieet liim. Mr. Ingleby or Norman intended to tell 
 
 ■roil he would be there." 
 
 I " But why is he to be there? Did Nomian ask him 
 
 logo?" 
 
 I " No, he did not," replied Claudia, with some hesi- 
 
 lation. 
 
 r " Then I am sure there is something more in it 
 
 than you will tell me. What is it, Claudia ? Why 
 Km I not to know?" 
 
 H- " You will know soon enough, Emily. Let me 
 ■ress you, now, as quickly as possible, for it is quite 
 
 lime you were ready." 
 
 K Emily, with the aid of her sister, was very soon 
 ressed, and she certainly did look very pretty, a fact 
 f which she could not help being conscious, and it 
 I brought a brighter glow to her cheek, and caused a 
 bmile to hover round her lips ; for, whatever might be 
 the occasion of Freshfield's presence, there was a sa- 
 lisfaction in knowing that he Avould see how well she 
 looked, even though it might be their last meeting. 
 As soon as she was ready she went down stairs, and 
 found the whole party assembled in the parlour, 
 taking a slight repast of coffee and biscuits, as they 
 were to return to breakfast. 
 
 Florence looked very beautiful, for her father, who 
 was rather ostentatious in all that regarded appear- 
 ance, had brought her a white mantle of the finest 
 cashmere, lined with satin, and a long rich lace veil, 
 which, with a wreath of orange blossom, she substi- 
 tuted for the bonnet she had intended to wear. He 
 had also ordered three carriages from Basingstoke, and 
 they were now waiting at the gate. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Piobertson, with Norman, went in the 
 first ; Major Gilmour, with the bride and Claudia, in 
 the second; and Mr. Basset, Emily, and Mr. Ingleby 
 in the last. The drive to the church was a very short 
 one, and very few people were met with by the way; 
 but on entering the village it became evident that 
 the whole place was in a state of excitement; men, 
 
314 THE BUOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 women, and children stood in groups at their doors, 
 and followed the cavalcade, in rather noisy order or 
 disorder to the churchyard, which was thronged with 
 the excursionists from Andover, all eager to obtain a 
 glimpse of the curate's bride; and as there was no 
 carriage-way up to the porch, she had to walk some 
 few yards through the crowd of gazers, to her no 
 small annoyance. She leaned on the arm of her fa- 
 ther, who did not dislike all this publicity, and re- 
 turned the salutations of the people with the digni- 
 fied air of a sovereign receiving the homage of his 
 subjects, which had the effect of impressing every 
 one wirh an immense idea of his importance. Mr. 
 Basset took Claudia, and Mr. Ingleby followed with 
 Emily. Not a word had been said about Freshfield 
 during the ride, but as they walked up to the church 
 door Mr. Ingleby took the opportunity of saying, — 
 
 *• Now, Emily, you must show yourself a brave girl, 
 as I am sure you are, for I belie \^e there is to be 
 another wedding here this morning." 
 
 "Another wedding!" she echoed faintly; "any 
 one we know ? " 
 
 "Yes, my dear — two people that we all know very 
 well." 
 
 " Then he is going to be married, Mr. Ingleby, and 
 you all knew it. Oh ! why was I not told this ? " 
 
 " We were afraid you would not come if we told 
 you ; but now you are here, you must behave like a 
 heroine, and do credit to yourself and to us all. Ee- 
 member, Emily, that all eyes will be upon you. Do 
 not tremble so, child. You have always prided your- 
 self on your spirit — now is the time to show it." 
 
 " And I will show it ! " she replied, with sudden 
 determination ; and as they were now entering the 
 church, he could only say, — 
 
 " That is right." 
 
 Strict orders had been given to admit no strangers, 
 so that all was quiet enough within the sacred edifice, 
 and Emily had time to collect her thoughts as they pro- 
 

 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 315 
 
 ceeded towards the vestry room, where the first object 
 hat met her eyes was Ahce Compton, arrayed in Avhite 
 nd holdmg in her hand a bride's bouquet composed 
 f white flowers and orange blossoms. Here then 
 ivaa a sokition of the mystery, and all her pride, all 
 er resolution, came to her aid, as she said to lier- 
 elf,— ' 
 
 *' It is cruel ; it is insulting to choose this day, and 
 n my presence." 
 
 Alice, who Avas leaning on her father's arm, made a 
 slight salutation to Emily, who returned it as slightly, 
 but did not cast even a glance at Freshfield, although 
 she knew he was standing directly opposite, and that 
 
 fis eyes were fixed upon her. 
 " He shall not see how much this costs me," was 
 er mental resolve, "I will not shed a tear; I will 
 ot show the least sign of regret. This day he be- 
 comes a husband, and from this day I will forget that 
 I ever thought of him as mine." 
 
 By a pardonable impulse of vanity, mingled perhaps 
 with a degree of resentment, Emily i:)laced herself in 
 such a position that no one could look at her without 
 seeing Alice at the same time, and her face flushed, 
 for she knew that the contrast was great, and felt a 
 pleasure in the thought that Freshfield could not be 
 insensible to it. 
 
 The clergyman was now robed. 
 
 "I believe we have nothing to wait for," he said, 
 '* we may as well proceed," and he led the way to the 
 altar, followed by the whole assemblage. 
 
 Norman was, of course, to be married first, and 
 those who were to assist in the ceremony were placed 
 in the proper order ; Major Gilmour, who was to give 
 away the bride, standing at her left hand, and Emily, 
 as bridesmaid, next to him, her father being on the 
 other side of her. 
 
 The ceremony was just commenced when a sudden 
 ray of sunshine, bursting through one of the windows, 
 cast the shadows in such a direction that they dis- 
 
olG THE BEOTHEES BASSET. 
 
 tinctly exhibited the grouping of the company, and 
 in this "tableau," Emily saw that Freshfield was stand- 
 ing close behind her, on which she instinctively put 
 her arm through that of her father to support herself 
 and prevent her agitation from being remarked. At 
 length all was concluded, Florence was the wife of 
 Norman Basset, the clergyman had pronounced the 
 blessing, and the happy pair Avere receiving the cus- 
 tomary congratulations, when Freshfield Kay, who had 
 remained near Emily, took her hand and bending 
 down his head, said softly, — 
 
 "Emily, do you still love me?" 
 
 She drew her hand away from him, and her eyes, 
 flashed with insulted pride, as she replied, — 
 
 " I should scarcely have expected such a question, 
 sir, at such a moment as this. You are about to be- 
 come a husband, and I hope you will be happy." 
 
 " That must depend on you, dearest Emily. I am 
 here, indeed, in the hope of becoming a husband, if 
 you will deign to give me a right to that title; but it 
 is to you alone I look for it." 
 
 She trembled more than ever; she looked up in his 
 face doubtingiy, and beheld there an expression of 
 truthfulness and unabated affection that could not be 
 mistrusted. Again he took her hand, which was not 
 withdrawn as before, and said, — 
 
 " Will you promise me, Emily, under this sacred 
 roof, and in the presence of all who are dearest to 
 you, never again to trifle with my affections as you 
 have done?" 
 
 She could not speak, but, smiling through her tears, 
 her eyes gave him the promise he required. 
 
 " Then," he continued, " if you can say this in all 
 sincerity and truth, give me now, this moment, the 
 best proof of your love. This Avas to have been our 
 wedding-day, Emily ; let it be so." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Freshficld ; not now — this is so sudden 
 — so unexpected — it cannot be now." 
 
 " But why not, love? Everything is prepared; I 
 
^^^^^^H THE BEOTHEBS BASSET. olT 
 
 fiave a licence ; your father has given his consent that 
 Rt shall be so ; and they all expect it ; for, you must 
 Lforgive me, dearest, it was a concerted plan." 
 
 I *' Then they all knew it " 
 
 I "Yes, all." 
 
 I "And Alice Compton?" 
 
 I " Has come to be your bridesmaid ; she has been a 
 itrue friend to us both." 
 
 I " Dear Alice ! How much I have wroncjed her," 
 I "We must make her amends," said Freshfield, 
 [smirmg. "And now, my own Emily, make me as 
 iliappy as Miss Gilmour has just made your brother." 
 I Still she hesitated, and Freshfield made a sign to 
 [Mr. Basset, who came to them. 
 
 I "I must entreat your assistance here, sir, or I shall 
 Ihave to leave the church a disappointed bachelor after 
 [all." 
 
 I " My dear child," said Mr. Basset to Emily, " you 
 [liave already trifled too much botli with your own 
 [happiness and that of one who, I believe, merits your 
 [highest regard. If you feel that you can be happy 
 [with Mr. Bay, let the clergyman do his part now, and 
 ^oin you together in the sight of God, and with the 
 blessing of your father; but if you are doubt- 
 ful " 
 
 " I am not doubtful," said the happy girl, blushing 
 deeply. 
 
 " Then, my dear, make this a joyful day for 
 us all, and I think you will never have cause to 
 repent it." At this moment they were joined by Mr. 
 Ingleby, — 
 
 "Well, good folks," he said, "are we to have 
 another wedding to-day, or not? You must make up 
 your minds quickly, for Mr. Bobertson is impatient to 
 know whether he has anything more to do. I fancy 
 he wants his breakfast." 
 
 Freshfield looked at Emily, wdio cast down her eyes, 
 and said nothing. 
 
 " Oh ! I see 1 may call him," said Mr. Ingleby, and 
 
318 - THE BHOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 in another minute all were again ranged before the 
 altar. Then Alice came up to Emily, and put the 
 bridal bouquet into her hand, saying, — 
 
 " It was intended for you, dear Emily, and I 
 hope it will be the means of making us friends for 
 ever. 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSBT, 319 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 X) account for the appearance of Mr. Ray on this 
 auspicious morning, we must go back to the time 
 Avhen, with disappointed hopes and heart half broken, 
 he left his home to wander about alone and miserable, 
 amid new scenes and strange faces, without a joy, 
 present or in prospect, to cheer his solitary way. 
 
 The day before his departure he went to take leave 
 of Alice Compton, for whom he had really a great 
 regard, and who had been in some measure the 
 innocent cause of the unfortunate disagreement that 
 had driven him to such extremities. He told her, 
 without reserve, all that had passed between him and 
 Emily, and she was very much grieved that Emily 
 had been so unjust towards herself 
 
 " She could not mean it seriously, Mr. Eay," she 
 said, " and if she did, you must allow it was no proof 
 of indifference towards you." 
 
 " It was a proof, Miss Compton, of her indifference 
 to the pain she knew she was giving me ; but if tliis 
 had been all I miofht have borne it." 
 
 Alice said all she could in excuse for Emily, and 
 exerted her best endeavours to convince him that her 
 
3'30 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 coldness was affected, and that he had no rival in 
 Ensign Claverton ; but he shoolv his head mistrustfully 
 and said, — 
 
 " The effect is the same, whether real or pretended. 
 I could not bear to see my wife listening with pleasure 
 to the flatteries of every coxcomb that chose to offer 
 them ; it would make me wretched ; and I believe 
 that a woman who can do tliis can never love any man 
 sincerely." 
 
 " You will let your friends know where you are, ]\Ir. 
 Eay?" 
 
 " I have no friends who will care much about it, 
 Miss Compton, except perhaps Mr. Ingleby ; and as 
 he is now so nearly allied to the family, I am not sure 
 that, under the circumstances, he would desire that I 
 should correspond with him." 
 
 " I shall be sorry not to heai' of you," said Alice, 
 with the utmost simplicity. 
 
 " Then allow me to write sometimes to you." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; if you will take so much trouble, I shall 
 be qi pleased." 
 
 *' And will you answer my letters ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you wish it ; " replied Alice, secretly 
 delighted at the opportunity she saw might be afforded 
 by such a correspondence, of bringing about a recon- 
 ciliation in course of time. 
 
 Freshfield was entirely free from that conceit which 
 would have made most men attribute the ready con- 
 sent of the generous, warm-hearted girl to open a 
 correspondence with him, to other motives than those 
 by which she was really actuated ; but whatever might 
 be her secret feelings with regard to ]\Ir. Hay, her 
 mind was bent upon restoring, if possible, a good 
 understanding between the lovers. 
 • Freshfield took his leave somewhat comforted by 
 the assurance that he should now and then hear of 
 one whom he was going away for the express purpose 
 of trying to forget, a strange inconsistency, which it 
 would be in vain to endeavour to account for, nor " 
 
THE BrvOTIIERS BASSET. 3;21 
 
 there much necessity so to do, since everybody under- 
 stands it. 
 
 It was not long before Alice received a letter from 
 
 '1 
 
 eland describing some of the beauties of that in- 
 teresting and highly picturesque country ; but the 
 tone of the writer was melancholy, and it was evident 
 he derived but little enjoyment from the scenes he 
 spoke of with admiration, but in the spirit of a man 
 whose mind is ill at ease. Alice replied in a manner 
 that induced him very soon to write again, and in 
 short a week seldom passed in which letters were not 
 
 Exchanged between them. 
 Emily saw Alice very frequently; but she never 
 ad the slightest suspicion of the communication 
 that was kept up between her confidential friend and 
 her absent lover; and if Alice betraved the confi- 
 dence reposed in her, she deserved to be pardoned 
 for such breach of trust on account of her amiable 
 motives, and the desirable end she had in view. 
 Freshfield thus knew that Emily was grieved at his 
 absence, and wished for his return ; he knew that she 
 thought more highly of him than his modv. mV had 
 ever allowed him to suppose she did, and by degrees, 
 his prudent resolution gave way to anticipations of a 
 more pleasing nature. 
 
 As the time approached for the marriage of Norman 
 and Florence, he began to feel an ardent desire to 
 return, and in a letter to Alice he said, that " If ho 
 were sure of being kindly received he thought he 
 would venture to seek a reconciliation." The answer 
 was so encouraging that he wrote immediately to Mr. 
 Ingleby in confidence, begging for his opinion and 
 advice on the subject, and it was that gentleman who 
 projected and arranged the \vholo plan of surprising 
 Emily by an unexpected wedding-day. Alice had 
 good-naturedly entered into the plot, by consenting to 
 appear as the bride elect, and this was the reason of 
 that alteration in her conduct towards Emily which 
 had produced the misunderstanding between them 
 
 81 
 
322 THE BROTHEES BASSET. 
 
 Mr. Basset had been kept in ignorance of what was 
 going forward until the bridal morning, when he was 
 enlightened by Mr. Ingleby, and was not displeased 
 to find that Freshfield was to be his son-in-law after 
 all. 
 
 The happy party, now all supremely happy, after 
 the conclusion of the double ceremony, returned to 
 Bridge House, where Peggy, in all the glories of a 
 new gown, and a cap decorated with white ribbons, 
 had been busy in superintending the arrangements of 
 the breakfast-table, and great was the astonishment 
 and joy of the good old creature to behold Mr. Eay 
 among the company, and to hear that Miss Emily 
 was married. Amid all the confusion and excitement 
 of this eventful morning, another delightful surprise 
 awaited Emily, who found that she and her husband 
 were to go with Norman and Florence to the Isle of 
 Wight, and that everything she would require for the 
 journey had been prepared by her sister, and was 
 packed in a large travelling trunk, of which Claudia 
 gave her the key. 
 
 " But my father, Claudia ; he cannot be left alone." 
 
 " I shall stay with him, Emmy, till you return. It 
 will only be a fortnight, and the farm will then be 
 ready for you." 
 
 " How kind you all are to me, and how little I have 
 deserved it." 
 
 " But you mean to deserve it in future, dear ; "and 
 to recompense Mr. Eay for all you have made him 
 suffer." 
 
 " Yes, he shall never have reason to complain of 
 me again. Oh ! Claudia, I am so happy." 
 
 " I know you are, Emily, and I hope you will al- 
 ways be so." 
 
 " I am sure it will be my own fault if I am not. 
 You will write to Charles to-day ? " 
 f " Certainly I shall, and my father will write 
 also." 
 
 *' Beg of him to come home, Claudia; tell him how 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 3-20 
 
 li 
 
 lappy it would make us all, and how comfortably he 
 might live amongst us." 
 
 " I shall say everythng I can to induce him to re- 
 turn, Emmy, for I wish it as much as you do." 
 
 This conversation took jDlace while Emily was 
 changing her bridal attire for the dress in which she 
 was to travel, and when this alteration was completed, 
 she once more affectionately embraced her sister, and 
 thanked her for all she liad done. Florence w^as by 
 this time ready, and the two travelling- carriages were 
 at the gate. Then came the leave-taking, and 
 all the bustle and business of departure, and at length 
 the last adieu w-as said, and the carriages drove away 
 
 owards Southampton. Mr. and Mrs. Eobertson went 
 soon afterwards, taking with them Mr. Compton and 
 Alice, but Major Gilmour and Mr. Ingleby agreed to 
 remain till the next day, when they proposed to return 
 
 town together. 
 Claudia and Mr. Basset devoted the rest of the day 
 
 to writing long letters to Charles, which Major Gil- 
 our undertook to send through a channel that 
 would ensure their being forwarded to Chundelee 
 without the delay that might occur if they were sent 
 
 1 the ordinary way. 
 
 Ii» 
 
321 THE BCOTHERS BASSET. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Nearly a year had elapsed since the events last re- 
 corded, a year of almost unalloyed liappiness to those 
 chiefly concerned in this narrative. Norman Basset 
 was now rector of the new chm-ch at Andover, in the 
 place of Mr. Eobertson, who had retired and gone to 
 reside in another part of the countiy; Freshfield 
 Eay, surrounded with all the comforts of domestic 
 peace and love, was as happy as man can look to be 
 in this world; and Mr. Ingleby, who was now the 
 father of a fine healthy boy, had never for one instant 
 repented of having ventured to take a ticket in the 
 great lottery of life where, notwithstanding all that 
 ill-natured people may say about it, the prizes are far 
 more numerous than tlie blanks, though there may 
 be many a one who does not estimate his or her 
 prize at its trae value. Major Gilmour very often 
 paid a visit to the rectoiy, and was really proud of 
 his son-in-law, who was now held in high considera- 
 tion, and visited by all the principal families of the 
 county. 
 
 The only drawback to the general happiness was 
 the gradual but certain decline of Mr. Basset, who 
 
 1 
 
THE BEOTHEKS BASSET. 0:25 
 
 as gi'owing weaker every day, and whose hollow 
 heek, sunken eye, and enfeebled frame were evident 
 tokens to all around him that his davs were num- 
 leered, and he had not long to sojourn u^Don the 
 "earth. He was now entirely at the farm, where the 
 kind attentions of Freshfield and the affectionate care 
 of Emily cheered his last days, and smoothed the 
 path that had brought him Avithin sight of the 
 tomb. 
 
 »For some weeks Freshfield had every day carried him 
 own stairs in his arms, for he liked the change from 
 one room to another, but this had now become too 
 great a fatigue for him, and all he could bear was to 
 be removed from the bed to a large arm-chair by the 
 window, where, propped up with pillows, he could sit 
 and look out over the farm -yard, which was an amuse- 
 ment to him. 
 
 He knew that tlie end of his' journey was near, for 
 no one attempted to deceive him on that point, nor 
 did he wish they should, for he was patient and re- 
 signed, spoke calmly of the coming change, and often 
 said that, but for one cause of regret, this last year of 
 his existence would have been the happiest of his 
 whole life, since it had left him but one wish ungra- 
 tified. Death is no foe to be shunned with horror 
 when he comes with gentle steps at his fitting season, 
 but is rather a friend to whom we should look for 
 peace and repose, after a long journey which, be the 
 path rugged or smooth, must come to an end at last ; 
 and Avhy should we shut our eves to the truth, 
 and travel on as if we expected our career to be 
 interminable ? 
 
 Emily seldom left him, and Freshfield would spend 
 whole hours in his room, sitting by his side either 
 reading aloud, or talking cheerfully, and soothing 
 him with all the gentle attentions that could be paid 
 by the most affectionate son. Mr. Basset vras very 
 fond of him, and often would put his tjiiiu trembling 
 
326 THE BROTIIEES BASSET. 
 
 fingers into the large strong hand of the kind- 
 hearted young man, and murmur a blessing upon 
 him. 
 
 Norman came every day, and usually spent some 
 time in reading to, or praying with him. giving him 
 all the consolation that it is the part of one of God s 
 ministers to afford to the dying Christian ; and the 
 venerable parent found in the pious and dutiful 
 affection of this excellent son the best and holiest 
 comfort that an old man on the verge of the grave 
 can experience. Claudia, too, came frequently to 
 stay with her father for several days together, and, at 
 length, Avhen it seemed that his life was drawing near 
 towards its close, she would not leave him, but wrote 
 to her husband, saying that she should remain as 
 long as her presence was needful to his comfort. 
 Her child and its nurse were lodged in a neighbour- 
 ing cottage, and the little boy was brought for a few 
 minutes every day to his grandfather, who took great 
 delight in this his only grandchild, his wan counte- 
 nance lighting up with joy if the infimt smiled at 
 him, or seemed pleased with his notice. 
 
 One morning Claudia w^as sitting by his bedside 
 before he had risen, when he said to her, — 
 
 " Claudja, my child, I do not feel as usual this 
 morning." 
 
 " What is it, dear father; are you not so well ?" 
 
 " I hardly know w'hat it is, but there is a strange 
 sensation at my heart. I think T shall not be with 
 you long now; but God's will be done." 
 
 " Nay, you are out of spirits ; this dull morning 
 has depressed you ; but see, the sun is breaking out 
 now; you shall get up, and then you will feel 
 revived." 
 
 He smiled faintly, and put out his hand that she 
 might talve it in hers, — 
 
 " I have been a favoured man, Claudia. Every 
 seeming evil that I have met with has turned to 
 
THE BROTHEES B^SET^^^^^ 327 
 
 ood. I have been spared to rejoice in the prosperity 
 of my children, and I am truly grateful for all the 
 mercies that have been bestowed on me. Heaven has 
 granted all my prayers but one. Oh ! that this had 
 
 l^een vouchsafed to me also." 
 
 H *' There is still hope, dearest father, that it may yet 
 
 ■" *' Ah ! no," said the dying man. "It is too late ; 
 but tell him, Claudia, that my last thought was 
 on him ; tell him that I blessed him with my dying 
 breath, and that T trust we shall meet again in that 
 
 imrld to which I am going." 
 " Not yet, my father — not yet — and, perhaps " 
 " No, love, the hope is past ; a few hours, and my 
 yes will be closed for ever; but get me up. I 
 should like to look out upon the world once more. 
 i^Get me up, dear, and move me to the window." 
 V She tried to raise him, but could not, for he 
 H-as quite unable to assist himself in the least. 
 '^ " I think we must have Freshfield to lift you," she 
 said; " he will do it more easily than I shall." 
 
 And at this moment Freshfield came into the room, 
 and, leaning over the bed, spoke to the invalid as 
 gently as if he had been speaking to an infant. 
 
 He wrapped him in his flannel dressing-gown, and 
 taking him in his arms as easily as he would have 
 lifted a little child, placed him carefully in the great 
 arm-chair by the window, whilst Claudia arranged his 
 pillows, and put an ottoman for his feet to rest 
 upon. 
 
 " I should like a cup of tea," he said, " and Fresh- 
 field will. stay with me while you make it."^; 
 
 Claudia left the room for that purpose, and, in 
 going down the stairs, heard a strange voice in the 
 dining-room, and fancied it was mingled with the 
 sound of suppressed sobs. She paused for a moment 
 to listen, and then she heard Emily speak as if she 
 was greatly excited, and again distinguished the 
 
328 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 voice that had first arrested her attention," which she 
 no longer mistook for that of a stranger. 
 
 Springing forward like lightning, she entered the 
 room, and was instantly folded in the arms of her 
 brother Charles. 
 
 " Oh ! thank God for this happiness," she ex- 
 claimed. " Thank God you are not too late. He will 
 see you once again." 
 
 " Once again, do you say ? Is it then so near ? " 
 
 " I am afraid so, indeed ; there is a great change. 
 We must not think of ourselves now, Charles. No 
 time must be lost in letting him know you are 
 here." 
 
 " Will he be able to see me ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes. It is what he has been praying for 
 most fervently ; he was talking of you this moment, 
 just before I left the room. Emily, pray try to com- 
 pose yourself, dear ; go and ask for a cup of tea, and 
 I will take it up stairs." 
 
 Emilv endeavoured to subdue her emotion ; but 
 her mind w^as so much agitated by the contending 
 feelings of joy at the return of her brother, and grief 
 for the immediate danger of her father, that it was 
 in vain she struggled to regain even a moderate de- 
 gree of composure. The arrival of Charles was not 
 wholly unexpected, for Claudia had written again to 
 him, represcTiting her father's infirm state of health, 
 and his anxious desire to see his absent son once 
 more before he died ; to which Charles had replied 
 that he would, if possible, revisit England for a short 
 time in the autumn, but not with any intention of 
 remaining, as nothing, he said, would now induce him 
 to abandon the cause to which he had devoted him- 
 self. He had spoken with the most generous feeling 
 ^of his brother's marriage, not making the slightest 
 allusion to his own former hopes, with which Norman 
 was entirely unacquainted, for even Emily had care- 
 fully abstained from saying anything that might give 
 
THE r.rvOTHERs basset. 
 
 329 
 
 im the painful impression that he was his hvother's 
 
 rivah 
 
 Norman had, on the preceding evening, thought 
 
 e observed a change in his fatlier, which made him 
 
 uneasy, that he proposed to Florence that they 
 
 ihoald both ride over to the farm early in the morn- 
 
 ng, and they breakfasted much earlier than usual for 
 
 that purpose. While Emily was gone to make a cup 
 
 ll^f tea for her father, they arrived, and walked into the 
 
 dining-room, without knowing who was there, and for 
 
 |Ba moment Norman supposed it was the doctor, and 
 
 asked how his father was. 
 
 " Norman," said Charles, " have vou forgotten 
 e ? " 
 
 "Charles! my dear brother — is it indeed you?" 
 nd they embraced each other with cordial affec- 
 lon. 
 Charles then turned to Florence with that quiet 
 innruffled demeanour that had become habitual to him, 
 'and as he took the hand that was freely extended to 
 |him, he showed no sign of any deeper emotion than 
 that of pleasure at the meeting. She bade him wel- 
 come with all the warmth and frankness of sisterly 
 egard ; and afterwards, in communing with his own 
 lieart, he said to himself, — 
 
 " Yes, T am satisfied. Providence has been gTa- 
 ciously pleased to make me the means of restoring 
 my brother to that height from which he was preci- 
 pitated by my misdeeds ; this is another proof that 
 my atonement is acceptable in the sight of Heaven, 
 and that the path I am following is blessed." 
 
 Emily soon returned v*^ith the tea, which Claudia 
 carried up to her father, and when he had taken it she 
 made a sign to Freshlield, who followed her out of 
 the room. 
 
 "Charles is come," she said softly, "but we must 
 break it to him by degrees. Norman will be the best 
 to do it. and he is here too." 
 
330 THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 " Freshfield," said the sick man, in a feeble tone, 
 "why do you go away? I want you to stay with 
 me." 
 
 " Go down then, and send Norman," said Freshfield 
 huiTiedly to Claudia. 
 
 " I am not going away, sir," he added, going back 
 into the room ; " but Mr. Norman is here, and is 
 coming up to see you." 
 
 " Is he ? I am glad of that ; I was afraid I should 
 not see him again. My time is come, Freshfield ; and 
 I am ready." 
 
 He put his wasted hands together as if in mental 
 prayer, and at that moment Norman entered. Pie 
 made a sign to Freshfield, who instantly left the room, 
 when Norman went round to the other side of his 
 father's chair, and stood there. 
 
 " I am so glad you are come, Norman ; very glad. 
 You must not leave me again ; my time is short : I 
 shall now have you all with me to the last — all but 
 one." 
 
 " And why not all, my father ?" said Norman, bend- 
 ing down his head, and speaking very gently. 
 
 " It is too late, my son ; I feel that my last hour is 
 come." 
 
 " Yet it is not too late, dearest father, all may be 
 with you still." 
 
 The dying man raised his eyes eagerly to Norman's 
 face, and a gleam of hope and joy flitted across his 
 pallid countenance, — 
 
 "He is here, then, Norman ; Charles is here." 
 ^ " And if he were, do you think you would be able 
 to see him?" 
 
 " Then it is so : oh ! God, I thank thee ! But why 
 does he not come to me ? Let me see him before my 
 eyes are closed for ever." 
 
 Charles, who was waiting at the door for Norman's 
 signal, heard these words, and the next moment was 
 kneeling at his father's feet. The enfeebled amis 
 
THE BROTHERS BASSET. 
 
 331 
 
 n 
 
 ere instantly clasped round his neck, the drooping 
 
 lead was laid on his shoulder. 
 r "Now God be praised! My prayers are heard. 
 I depart in peace. Charles, my beloved son — I die 
 
 happy ! " 
 
 The last words were uttered very faintly ; Charles 
 
 ■olded his arms closer round him— but life was gone. 
 
 THE EiNl). 
 
 Woodfall and Kinder, Printers, Angel Court, Skinner Street, l-on(!on. 
 

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