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 THE JERNINGHAM JOURNALS. 
 
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 A VERY YOUNG COUPLE. 
 
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 I 
 

 
 UP 
 
 OX THE BALCONY. 
 
 (P- 44).
 
 MISS HITCHCOCK'S 
 
 WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "MRS. JERNINGHAM'S JOURNAL," "A VERY 
 YOUNG COUPLE," ETC., ETC. 
 
 THIRD THOUSAND. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG & CO. 
 1876.
 
 JOHN F. TROW & SON, 
 
 PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS, 
 
 205-213 East 12 1 A St., 
 
 NEW YORK..
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 I. MIRANDA 5 
 
 II. LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW 22 
 
 III. AT MADAME LA GAI'S 51 
 
 IV. A TETE-A-TETE 75 
 
 V. THE FIRST FLOOR 91 
 
 VI. SUNDAY 114 
 
 VII. FRIENDSHIP 133 
 
 VIII. POOR Miss HITCHCOCK! 152 
 
 IX. EXPLANATIONS 174 
 
 X. THE CHARADE 196 
 
 XI. LOVE 217 
 
 XII. THE END . 238
 
 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DEESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MIRANDA. 
 
 TWO women sat together in a little room, work- 
 ing so hard that you could see their daily 
 bread depended on their industry. Two womeivwr- 
 both young, and the youngest a mere girl. 
 
 They were busy at the same piece of work a 
 white satin dress, covered with lace flounces, at 
 once delicate and rich. It was made with two 
 " bodies," one high and one low ; a white satin skirt, 
 adorned with magnificent lace, and attached to a high 
 bodice. Is there anyone in the world so ignorant as 
 not to be aware that such a garment could only be 
 intended for that most interesting of all personages 
 a bride ; to be worn on that most interesting of 
 all occasions her wedding-day ? In short, that the 
 four hands so busily occupied were manufacturing, 
 with light artistic touches, Somebody's wedding 
 dress.
 
 6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Both these women were lady-like in their appear- 
 ance, although their clothes were shabby, and their 
 surroundings poor and common. 
 
 The elder of the two might perhaps be thirty 
 years old. Pale, even sallow, in coloring, with 
 handsome dark eyes and sharply-cut features, well 
 dressed, well fed, well tended, and happy, she might 
 still have been called almost beautiful. 
 
 The younger, more than ten years her junior, 
 was beautiful beautiful, notwithstanding every- 
 thing that conspired to make her the contrary. 
 Tall and slight as a lily, she was also as fair as one. 
 The delicate wild-rose tint in her cheeks was, per- 
 haps, even more lovely than the deeper hue that 
 might have been there but for work and confinement. 
 Her hazel eyes were radiant, and a profusion of hair, 
 of the same color as those eyes, covered her queen- 
 like little head. Her features were small, delicate, 
 and regular. She was scantily fed, she was badly 
 dressed, she was untidy, and she was tired. Poor 
 child! she had been steadily plying her needle for 
 eight mortal hours ; but scantily fed, badly dressed, 
 untidy, tired, and overworked, Miranda Maxwell was 
 as pretty a young creature as could be seen. 
 
 " Have you nearly done, Sissy ? " said she, in her
 
 MIRANDA. 7 
 
 sweet, coaxing voice, and still using the pet name, 
 honored by old custom, which had been first given 
 to the damsel in her teens by the little lisping baby 
 sister. " You do look so thoroughly tired, you dear 
 old thing. How I wish I could do all the work and 
 let you rest." 
 
 " Rest ! you foolish darling. Why should I rest 
 more than you, I wonder ? " 
 
 " Because poor old Sissy has a headache, and strong 
 young Miranda has not one bit of ache in her whole 
 body, and is only tired to death with working, so she 
 knows" hoiv tired poor Sissy must be." 
 
 The elder woman smiled painfully. 
 
 " I am tired," she said, " and my head does ache 
 but it is of no consequence, and will pass away 
 and I mean to go to bed the minute I have finished, 
 and leave you to do all the folding up and putting by. 
 I take excellent care of myself always, you know." 
 
 " Oh, Sissy ! while you are making all these smart 
 dresses, don't you imagine the people who wear them, 
 and the scenes they are worn in ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, I don't," replied the sister, sighing. 
 
 " I do. Why, I see the white arms and neck that 
 are to shine through these sleeves and over this lace 
 tucker, and the slight figure that will go moving
 
 8 MJSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 about so gracefully under all these heavy satin folds. 
 A bride, Sissy ! Just fancy how she will look," 
 holding up the dress as she spoke ; " and think of the 
 church gay with happy people, and the pretty crea- 
 ture kneeling before the altar, and giving her life up 
 to some grand fellow who adores her ! " 
 
 " But, Miranda, alas ! I have seen this bride, and 
 she is so plain and so dark ; she was a goose to choose 
 white satin to be married in, and she won't look a bit 
 nice in it." 
 
 " No, really ! What a pity ! And the poor grand 
 fellow ; you didn't see him too, I suppose ? Does he 
 like her, I wonder. If I was a man, I know, I couldn't 
 fall in love with a dowdy. I should be caught by a 
 pretty face. I am sure I should, Sissy." 
 
 " Yes ; I did see him, as it happens. She brought 
 him to Madame La Gai's, when I was in the show- 
 room, and made him choose a bonnet for her." 
 
 " And what was he like ? " 
 
 " He was handsome and tall. She seemed de- 
 lighted to have him to lead about." 
 
 " Like a monkey at a fair." 
 
 " Only he was a very beautiful monkey ; but he 
 answered her quite crossly two or three times. I 
 declare he snubbed her."
 
 MIRANDA. g 
 
 " What a shame ! Fancy being snubbed by a 
 lover." 
 
 "And he looked so handsome, and she so plain. 
 I thought them quite an ill-matched pair ; but she 
 had a nice figure, which men think a good deal of, 
 more than of the face sometimes. She was tall 
 and slight like you." 
 
 " Yes. All the while I have been making the 
 dress, I have been thinking it would just fit me. 
 Ah, Sissy ! fancy being married in such a dress as 
 this. Wouldn't you like.it ? " 
 
 " My dear, .doesn't it make you sorry while you 
 work to think of all the people so much happier 
 than you are, who wear the dresses you only make ? " 
 
 " Sorry ! Oh, Sissy, what a notion ! " 
 
 " It would be so much wiser to try to turn your 
 thoughts to other things. I sometimes think that 
 there must be a purgatory for rich people, who can 
 do what they like, and that only we poor workers 
 shall go straight to heaven. Nothing else could 
 make it the least fair," said the elder sister, a little 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Why, I like people to be happy and everything 
 gay, even though we can't be the same," cried 
 Miranda, opening her lovely eyes in astonishment.
 
 I0 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Used you to mind the perfect happinesses of he- 
 roes and heroines, when we had time to read nov- 
 els, just because they weren't yours ? And mak- 
 ing these dresses is like reading the stories of the 
 people who wear them. Such scenes I fancy ; such 
 homes they take me into ; such delightful things 
 keep happening all the time I stitch away at pretty 
 finery ! Only black ! " with a little shudder. " Oh no ! 
 I can't bear making black. I wish Madame La Gai 
 would never sell mourning. I feel guilty, as if I 
 was helping to make people miserable when I sew 
 all that mournful crape on their skirts." 
 
 " Yes," said Sissy, her melancholy mouth relaxing 
 into a smile ; " you cried your eyes out over that 
 widow's dress, till I was obliged to do it all myself, 
 and send you out for a walk ; and then we heard 
 afterwards that Mrs. Sedgwick was a gay young crea- 
 ture, and did not care a bit for her cross, gouty, 
 rather disreputable old husband that she had 
 married him for his money, and was rather glad 
 than otherwise when he died." 
 
 " But how could I tell that ? " cried Miranda, 
 laughing. " I'm sure my tears were nicer than her 
 smiles. A widow ougJit to be miserable ; and, at 
 any rate, the poor old thing had some tears shed for
 
 MIRANDA. 1 1 
 
 him, thanks to me," and she laughed again. " Only 
 I oughtn't to have made myself unfit to help my 
 poor Sissy there I was as selfish as the widow her- 
 self but I'm not so foolish now, am I, dear ? I 
 don't cry over the things, however black they may 
 be ; but they do make me sorry. And then a dress 
 like this," again holding it up before her, for it was 
 now completed, " makes me ready to dance for joy, 
 when I think of the pretty, happy girl ; but, oh 
 dear ! I forgot she's ugly and cross. What a 
 pity!" 
 
 " And now I may really go to bed," said Sissy, 
 carefully putting up her thimble, scissors, and 
 thread, and then indulging herself in a great stretch 
 and thorough good yawn. 
 
 " Yes, you poor dear, you may go to bed now," 
 replied Miranda, caressing her ; " but I sha'n't come 
 for a long time. I am going to give myself a real 
 treat with Tennyson. Oh, how good it was of him 
 to publish himself at last for six shillings, so that 
 even I could get him for my own ! " 
 
 " Don't sit up too late, dear." 
 
 " He's fifty times better than sleep, the magnif- 
 icent creature ; and weren't those nice breakfasts 
 and dinners when I ate only just what I couldn't
 
 12 Jlf/SS HITCHCOCJCS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 help, and saved up the money to buy him ? I de- 
 clare I was quite sorry when I'd got enough, and 
 could eat as usual." 
 
 " Ah ! my poor Miranda, when I remember all the 
 books in papa's study ! " 
 
 " Oh ! don't remember, darling Sissy ; please don't 
 remember. If you begin remembering, you'll lie 
 awake half the night ; you know you will. I never 
 remember, except to be glad that we were born ladies ; 
 and so I get comfort even from remembering even 
 out of our misfortunes. But you can't do that, poor 
 dear, because you are so much wiser than I am." 
 
 " That is the folly of wisdom," replied Sissy, with 
 one of her sad, sickly smiles. 
 
 " Now do go to bed and get a long sleep, and then 
 you won't look so wofully tired in the morning," 
 cried Miranda, kissing her sister, and coaxing her 
 out of the little back parlor on the ground floor, to 
 climb her weary way up to the garret, far above it, 
 where they slept. 
 
 A little back parlor and a garret in a London 
 street, with sewing and stitching from morning till 
 night this made the work and the life of these two 
 women, who were born and reared in sweet country 
 scenes, who were well educated and refined, and had
 
 MIRANDA. I3 
 
 once lived in ease and happiness. But they had not 
 been the well brought-up-daughters of a much re- 
 spected clergyman in vain, for they had friends still 
 among those who had once been their father's parish- 
 ioners. At his death, which had come very suddenly 
 and in the equally unexpected wreck of his fortunes 
 (how brought about it is not necessary to relate here 
 as it in no way concerns this story), they might, 
 have commanded help from their equals in rank, and 
 been well placed in respectable families if they had 
 chosen to support themselves as governesses. But 
 Miranda was so young and so pretty, that Sophia, 
 more than ten years her senior, could not bear the 
 idea of parting with her, and sending her out into the 
 world to try her fortunes alone. They agreed 
 that anything was better than being separated, and 
 so, after many consultations had been held, and 
 many tears shed, they took to dressing the bodies of 
 their fellow-creatures, in preference to the more 
 "genteel" profession of adorning their minds. An 
 old servant of their father, who was now a lodging- 
 house keeper in a fashionable street, allowed them to 
 live cheaply in the rooms we have described ; while 
 Madame La Gai, a West End dressmaker, gladly 
 supplied them with work in their own home, and
 
 I4 MISS HITCHCOCICS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 occasionally employed the elder sister in the show- 
 room. In her young and less prosperous unmarried 
 days, she had contracted a debt of gratitude to Mr. 
 Maxwell, for timely assistance, which she never for- 
 got, but paid it cheerfully and with interest to his 
 daughters. 
 
 All dressmakers are not slave-drivers ; all land- 
 ladies are not termagants, though modern novels 
 generally represent them as such. The sisters met 
 with kindness and consideration ; and while Sophy 
 mourned much for the past, the light-hearted 
 Miranda enjoyed much in the present. 
 
 Her sister's conversation to-night, however, had 
 tinged her thoughts with melancholy ; and as she 
 stood alone in the little chamber, with the satin 
 dress lying on the table, it looked to her, with its 
 lovely shining white surface, like the ghost of a dead 
 joy, which she had never clasped in life, and which 
 could now never be hers. She touched it timidly, and 
 then passed her little hands down the folds of the 
 common mouseline-de-laine frock she wore herself. 
 
 " And I, too, am so young," she said, softly, " and 
 so gay ; " and her eyes filled with tears (were they 
 unreasonable?) as the thought of her own gayety 
 appealed to her with an indescribable pathos.
 
 MIRANDA. IS 
 
 Again she touched the two dresses with her rosy 
 fingers, and then held up the satin robe at arm's 
 length from her, and smiled and nodded to it as if 
 it had been another girl. 
 
 "It is just my height," she cried; "and Sissy 
 said her figure was like mine. Oh ! only fancy me 
 in such a dress as that ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " something within her cried out 
 imperiously " why not ? Put it on ; why should 
 you not put it on ? " 
 
 She laughed and blushed, and said, "What an 
 idea ! " But the something was urgent and perse- 
 vering, and kept on saying, " Put it on ; you will 
 like it ; it is such an innocent pleasure, and so new. 
 With all the dresses you have made, you never 
 thought of this before ; put it on ! " 
 
 She slipped off her common well-worn frock, and 
 stood in her petticoat, with bare white arms and neck. 
 Then, rather breathlessly, she put on the muslin 
 skirt worn under the robe, and then the dress itself, 
 fastening it carefully, and shaking out the folds and 
 flowers with light, joyful fingers. 
 *It fitted her exactly. 
 
 " But oh ! " she cried, " I must see her." She 
 spoke of herself in that bridal finery as if she was
 
 j6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 somebody else. " I can't see her'; I should like to 
 see her ! " 
 
 There was no mirror in the dingy back parlor, 
 but she knew that in the front room there was a 
 large one, and she also knew that the inhabitants of 
 that room had gone out for the evening. 
 
 With a little laugh, and clapping her hands for a 
 quick hasty minute, she ran into the adjoining 
 apartment, and danced forward to the looking-glass, 
 where, with quite a start of delight and astonishment, 
 she beheld the radiant creature she had come to 
 see. 
 
 " How pretty she is ! how dear she is ! Oh, you 
 beautiful darling ! " and the glowing lips met the 
 other lips in the mirror with a sweet girl-kiss. "But 
 you know, my dear, you must do your hair properly, 
 like the ladies you see.'' 
 
 In those days it was easy to dress such hair as hers, 
 hanging, as it did, in rich, but rather short natural 
 curls all over her head. It had only to be frizzed 
 about and disordered a little, and raised over combs in 
 imitation of puffs, and it made, in its bright, golden- 
 brown tangle, a very fashionable coiffure. 
 
 A pair of white kid gloves lay on the table ; ap- 
 parently they had been tried on by one of the occu-
 
 MIRANDA. 17 
 
 pants of the room, and, not fitting, had been thrown 
 down in haste. Miranda, having finished dressing 
 her hair took them up. 
 
 " Six and a-half," she said, ' your very number ; " 
 and she held them in her hand, and curtsied to the 
 girl in the looking-glass, to whom she showed them ; 
 "your very number, you know. But you must not 
 put them on, or you will be found out, you naughty 
 little thief ; " and she shook her fist at the laughing, 
 radiant creature she kept curtseying to all the time 
 she spoke. " You laugh, do you ? fie, fie ! Why 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourself ; you know you 
 ought." 
 
 And then she began to dance. 
 
 Presently she stole softly up stairs into Sissy's 
 room, where that poor weary woman lay breathing 
 deeply, in the heavy sleep of the overworked. How 
 sallow, worn, and old her face looked on the shabby 
 pillow ! But Miranda, dearly as she loved it, was too 
 well accustomed to that tired face to have any new 
 sorrow aroused by it ; though, to my mind, a worn 
 soul in a sleeping face is the saddest of all the sad 
 sights which this mysterious world can show us. 
 
 On tiptoe, with her finger 0:1 her lips, she ap- 
 proached a chest of drawers, and unlocked one of
 
 1 8 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 them which she knew contained some treasures a 
 few things, a few luxuries belonging to the prosperous 
 past. Things some of them kept almost accident- 
 ally, and because it had not been known what else 
 to do with them than to keep them ; and others be- 
 cause it would have been too painful to part with 
 them, on account of associations connected with 
 their givers, or with happy moments in which they 
 were given. She turned them all over noiselessly, 
 and quite triumphantly held up a pair of white satin 
 boots and a little red opera cloak. Then she opened 
 the morocco case in which lay the family jewels, that 
 had sometimes, in her childish days, been displayed 
 to her wondering, admiring eyes, and took out the 
 dear old grandmother's pins two diamond stars for 
 the hair and her black velvet ribbon for the neck, 
 clasped with glittering diamonds. Hastily she 
 adorned head, neck, shoulders, and feet with all this 
 pretty finery, and, pausing at 'the foot of the bed, 
 longed to wake up Sophy, that she might have the 
 pleasure of seeing her so brilliant and so fair. " She 
 has not an idea how nice I am," she thought ; " but 
 I must not wake her, poor Sissy. She might lie 
 too long awake if I did." Then she ran rapidly 
 down stairs to the front sitting room. " If Sissy
 
 MIRANDA. T 
 
 mustn't see me, I may see myself," she cried, as she 
 stood before the mirror. 
 
 The diamonds sparkled in her hair, and her eyes 
 sparkled beneath the diamonds. 
 
 " How lovely girls are when they are dressed ! " 
 she said, almost regretfully ; " and such a fright as 
 I am in my stuff frock ! Who would have thought 
 it ? " 
 
 At this moment a noise of many carriages, that 
 appeared all just to pass the house and then to stop 
 abruptly, drew her attention to the window, and, 
 peeping through the shutters, she saw, in the broad 
 moonlight of the summer night, vehicle after vehicle 
 drive up to the door of the next house, and there 
 deposit their freight of richly-attired women and 
 black-coated men, who instantly disappeared through 
 it ; while suddenly, from within it, a burst of dance 
 music made a joyful sound, like an invitation to 
 be happy. " And I am dressed like them ; I look 
 like them. I might run in among them dance, laugh, 
 talk, and be happy too !" she cried. Then, with a 
 look of astonishment " Why shouldn't I ? " and she 
 burst into a fit of soft laughter, and for a moment 
 danced up and down on the same spot, like a delighted 
 child.
 
 20 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Then, in an instant? without waiting to reflect (had 
 she so waited, this story would never have been 
 written), she slipped out of the house, and, running a 
 few steps on the pavement, entered the one next 
 door. Some ladies who had just descended from 
 their carriage preceded her, and she followed them 
 as closely as if she belonged to their party. Two 
 richly-dressed elderly women and three young ones, 
 in floating draperies of blue and white, were the 
 pioneers in whose steps Miranda trod. When they 
 gave their cloaks to the attending servants, she did 
 the same with hers ; and when they declined tea, 
 she also passed on with only a bow of her head , 
 and so they walked up the crowded staircase to- 
 wards the ballroom, still followed by this happy, in- 
 nocent, daring, imprudent creature, who felt at the 
 same moment as if she was in a dream, and yet as 
 if she had never been so vividly awake in all her life 
 before. 
 
 At the head of the staircase, just within the thres- 
 hold of the drawing-room, stood a stately woman, 
 magnificently attired, who bowed and smiled to all 
 the guests, and occasionally shook hands with a 
 favored few as they entered ; and Miranda and her 
 five ladies, in due turns came in for their share of
 
 MIRANDA. 2I 
 
 these salutations. There was,a crowd in the room, 
 but a crowd still pressing onward to something be- 
 yond ; and Miranda, as she looked about her in pain- 
 ful bewilderment, observed that the younger ladies 
 were all sooner or later- accosted by gentlemen, and 
 led off into a large inner apartment, where a waltz 
 was being danced. Suddenly she, too, was address- 
 ed. A tall, very good-looking man, who had been 
 watching her for some moments, though she was not 
 in the least aware that he had been doing so, offer- 
 ed her his arm, saying, " May I have the pleasure ? " 
 and she found herself in the next room before she 
 knew where she was.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 
 
 " "\7OU wil1 excuse my not waiting for an intro- 
 j[ duction," said he, immediately ; " but I am 
 Lady Gregory's nephew." 
 
 Miranda laughed gayly, and, being quite ignorant 
 of the force of the argument contained in those 
 words, replied simply, " Are you really ? " 
 
 " Yes ; so, though I have not had the pleasure of 
 meeting you before, I thought I might venture." 
 
 She laughed again. 
 
 " Oh ! is it not beautiful ? " she cried, softly " the 
 flowers, the music. Do you always live like this ? " 
 
 " Yes, always," replied he, not understanding the 
 situation. 
 
 " How happy you must be ! " sighed Miranda. 
 " How different lives are and all the girls are pret- 
 ty ! " she added,' looking round her with delight. 
 
 " It is not in that you find the difference," he re- 
 plied, with smiling gallantry.
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y J S NEPHE W. 33 
 
 She turned her lovely eyes frankly upon him. 
 " It is in everything," she said ; " but, ah ! you 
 don't understand ; how should you ? " 
 
 " I think I do, though," answered he, with a sort 
 of eagerness, and looking at her very kindly, as he 
 first discovered with what earnestness her remarks 
 were made. " I think I do understand. This is 
 your first ball ; is not that it ? " 
 
 " That it ! " she cried, almost in scorn. " Well, 
 it is my first ball. I never was at one before." 
 
 " Yes," he said, watching the play of her counte- 
 nance with an interest to which he was quite unac- 
 customed ; "so I see ; and I think also that it is 
 your first visit to London. You come from some 
 delightful country home a parsonage, perhaps," 
 but here his eye, as it scanned Her, fell on the dia- 
 monds, the rich satin and expensive lace ; " no, 
 not that, but some bright, flower-covered dwelling, 
 and you are new to town and town gaieties." 
 
 Miranda gave her hands a little joyful clap, and 
 laughed gleefully, like a child. 
 
 " Oh, you wizard ! " she said ; " do you think 
 that ? " No heart could resist such a sweet, gay laugh, 
 and her partner laughed too, and looked almost affec- 
 tionately down into her transparent eyes.
 
 24 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Yes," he said, boldly, " I do. I will venture to 
 pronounce that you are not a London young lady." 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried ; " and what else ? " 
 
 " What else ? " replied he, smiling. " I think, then, 
 that you are always quite happy ; not only in a gay 
 scene like this, but in your own pretty home also." 
 
 " Are you a fortune-teller ? " asked she, shaking 
 her fair head, crowned with its rich tangle of bright 
 hair and diamond stars. 
 
 " A fortune-teller ? Not for the future, I am 
 afraid, though I may guess a little about the past 
 and present." 
 
 " I wish you were. I wish you could tell my fu- 
 ture," said Miranda, turning her sweet, innocent 
 face towards him as she spoke. 
 
 " I wish I could," he cried, with a' sudden eager- 
 ness quite unexpected to himself, and looking at her 
 as, perhaps, in all his thirty years of life, he had 
 never yet looked at a woman ; then, cooling down, 
 even more surprised at his own feelings than at the 
 fresh simplicity that had excited them, he added, 
 " but I am, as I said, for the past and for the present ; 
 and being so, I recognize your life as an exception- 
 ally happy one. I think you are always happy." 
 
 " I am always happy, am I ? " she said ; and nodded
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y'S NEPHE W. 2 * 
 
 her head with a little knowing air that was perfectly 
 enchanting. " Yes, so I am ; and my life is an ex- 
 ceptionally happy one ? No indeed ! that it isn't. 
 It is exceptionally the other way ; and I am happy 
 in spite of my life." 
 
 Then, to his dismay, he found that the beautiful 
 eyes were filling with tears, while one crystal drop 
 overflowed and hung on the long lashes for an instant, 
 ere the little hand brushed it away. 
 
 He, too, felt ready to cry, and said to himself, indig- 
 nantly, " So this is the result of your stupid ballroom 
 talk, when it strikes against a true, earnest nature." 
 
 " My dear child," he said aloud, in quite a paternal 
 manner, " I beg your pardon. I didn't mean ; please 
 don't mind ; but " and he added this question 
 because he really could not help it, he felt so sorry, 
 " are not you happy ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am," she answered frankly. " But then 
 it's / that am happy, not my life." 
 
 " I am so sorry." he said, with hearty sincerity 
 and a sort of penitent air, as if he felt himself to 
 blame in the matter. 
 
 She smiled. " But you needn't mind," she said ; 
 " I don't." 
 
 Then there was a little pause between them, while
 
 26 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIA T G DRESS. 
 
 the lovely eyes watched the dancers wistfully, and 
 were afterwards raised to his with quite a pathetic 
 expression of entreaty. 
 
 "Might I dance ? " she asked. " I do so wish it." 
 He looked at her with mingled amusement and 
 delight. He confessed to himself that he had never 
 before been so captivated by any girl, or had ever 
 before met with any girl in the least like her. Her 
 freshness alone was sufficient to enchant him ; 
 and when to such freshness of character was added 
 such fresh beauty of face, he felt as if he had sud- 
 denly become a believer in the possibility, at least, 
 of love at first sight. He would certainly have pre- 
 ferred to continue talking to her, but no man could 
 resist her pathetic " Might I dance ? " And as, next 
 to her conversation, to dance with her was the 
 greatest pleasure he could at the moment imagine, 
 he very willingly began to waltz. 
 
 For a few steps it se*emed doubtful whether their 
 styles suited, or, indeed, whether Miranda had any 
 style at all ; but either she soon remembered what 
 she had once learned, or she acquired knowledge 
 with surprising rapidity, for after those few steps, 
 her dancing, even to his fastidious taste, was as 
 charming as herself.
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y'S NEPHE W. 27 
 
 I hardly know which of the two enjoyed the 
 waltz most ; and when it was over, he did not feel 
 in the least inclined to leave her side, but walked 
 her round and round the room as often as etiquette 
 permitted. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, suddenly putting her hand up 
 to her eyes, as if something hurt them. " Who is 
 that poor woman who is scowling so ? Can it be 
 with me she is so angry ? or is she like a picture, 
 and seems to look at everybody who looks at her ? " 
 
 " Who do you mean? Where ? I don't see." 
 
 " There, that poor woman in blue, who is so so 
 ugly and so brown so very brown an Indian, 
 perhaps. You must see her now under those lights, 
 and scowling at me at least she seems as if she 
 was." 
 
 " Oh yes ! I see her now." 
 
 " And who is she ? " 
 
 " She is a Miss Hitchcock," replied he, with 
 extraordinary bitterness in his voice and face. 
 
 " Miss Hitchcock ! Oh ! you don't really mean 
 it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, how very, very odd ! And is that really 
 Miss Hitchcock! Yes, to be sure; she is just like
 
 28 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 what Sissy said. And now, where is Mr. Cressing- 
 ham, poor man ? I'm sorry for him ; he ought to 
 be with her ; but he can't be that man she's danc- 
 ing with, I know." 
 
 " Can't he ? Why not ? " 
 
 " Oh ! that man is short and insignificant, and 
 Mr. Cressingham is extremely good-looking and tall 
 and nice." 
 
 "Is he?" replied her partner, laughing. " Do 
 you know him, then ? " 
 
 " No, I don't know him ; but I have heard him 
 described. Point him out to me, please." 
 
 He looked first at her, and then all about the 
 room, and then at her again ; after which he said, 
 slowly, " Do you know, it's very odd, but I don't see 
 him anywhere." 
 
 " He ought to be with her," she replied, gravely. 
 
 " Ought he ? but why ? " 
 
 " Oh ! because " she began quickly, and added 
 in a lower voice, " they are engaged to be married." 
 
 " And must people who are engaged to be mar- 
 ried always go in couples, poor things ? " 
 
 " Poor things ? " cried she indignantly. " What ! 
 if they care for each other ? *' but she paused in 
 the middle of the speech, and said the last words a
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 29 
 
 little shyly, when she found what they were going 
 to be. 
 
 " In some cases, yes, of course," he answered, 
 catching light from her eyes, and seeming for the 
 moment capable of feeling anything himself. 
 
 " In some cases," repeated Miranda, looking great- 
 ly astonished. Then she reflected a little, and 
 added, " Well, I suppose that is true, and that this is 
 not one of them ; for I have heard that she is very 
 cross oh ! doesn't she look so ? and snubs him." 
 
 " Snubs him ! " cried her partner, frowning. " Oh ! 
 they say that, do they ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and they say worse things than 
 that. Do you know, he can't be really nice, though 
 he is so handsome " here she spoke quite confi- 
 dentially- " for I do almost believe he is marrying 
 her for her money." 
 
 " How shocking ! " replied he. His voice sound- 
 ed bitter and sarcastic, and he colored so much as 
 he spoke, that she saw he was quite as indignant at 
 the idea of a mercenary marriage as she was herself. 
 
 "Yes, isn't it ? " she said, simply. " Only fancy 
 what their lives will be when they are married." 
 
 " No, don't fancy it," he answered, quickly. " Per- 
 haps they never will be married."
 
 30 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DXESS. 
 
 * v 
 
 " Oh yes ! " cried she, opening her eyes wide ; 
 " they will. Why, the wedding day is fixed and the 
 dress made ; " and she glanced down at her satin 
 robe and laughed a little. 
 
 " And yet the marriage may not take place," per- 
 sisted he. " I have known marriages broken off 
 yes, at the very altar." 
 
 Miranda opened her lovely brown eyes even 
 wider than she had opened them before, as if she 
 was taking in new and alarming ideas. " But that 
 is very wrong," she said, slowly, with a great 
 emphasis on the very. 
 
 " Is it ? " cried he, with eagerness. " Are you 
 sure ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. I am. Am I not ? Can 
 
 there be any doubt ? " 
 
 " It seems to me there can. Now look here ; which 
 is worst to break a promise, or to swear a lie ? " 
 
 " To break a promise, or to swear a lie ? " repeated 
 Miranda, absolutely appalled ; " but both are im- 
 possible nobody could do either." 
 
 " Oh ! couldn't they ? " cried he, bitterly ; " and 
 does nobody ever make a mistake, then ? Why, 
 what a delightful world this is we are living in ! " 
 
 " A mistake ? "
 
 LAD Y GREG OR Y'S NEPHE W. 3 : 
 
 "Yes, a mistake ; there are such things as mis- 
 takes, I do assure you. Suppose, now, that two 
 people are engaged to be married, and one of them 
 finds out that he (or shall we say she ?) does not 
 really care for the other, shall he (or she) break the 
 first promise there's a broken promise, you see 
 or shall he (or she) go to the church and there per- 
 jure himself (and there's the sworn lie), and so 
 begin a life of deceit that never ends ? " 
 
 Her innocent face clouded over, as a child's, or 
 perhaps an angel's, might, who hears of sin for the 
 first time. 
 
 " Yes," she said, slowly and sadly, " that might 
 happen ; I suppose it might. But it is too painful, 
 isn't it ? Why should we imagine such things ? " 
 
 " Let us just for one little minute," persisted he, 
 pleadingly, " while you tell me what that unhappy 
 person ought to do." 
 
 " How can I tell ? " said she, simply ; " but there 
 can't be any doubt, can there ? " 
 
 " Well," he cried, with great eagerness, " what 
 should he do, then ? " 
 
 " Tell her the truth, of course, and ask her to 
 release him." 
 
 "And if she refuses?"
 
 32 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " But she couldn't refuse." 
 
 " Couldn't she ? Well, please just for the sake 
 of the argument, you know suppose she did?" 
 
 " Then, of course, he must marry her." 
 
 She spoke as if she announced an undoubted 
 fact, and he listened to the words as if they were 
 an oracle. 
 
 " What ! " he cried, and a sudden pain came into 
 his face ; " do you really think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; there can't be two opinions on 
 the subject ; don't you think so too? " 
 
 " And swear false vows swear to love and hon- 
 or, when he does neither ? " 
 
 "No, no!" she cried, distressed and eager ; "he 
 would have told her, and he would try to do his 
 very best ; there would be no falseness in it ; and 
 he would be helped ; he would pray" she stopped 
 suddenly, blushing crimson, and something like a 
 tear glistened on her eyelashes. " Oh ! " she cried, 
 " don't talk of such things here ; it is irreverent." 
 
 "Divine innocence!" exclaimed he, with enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 But she did not hear the words, neither did 
 she observe the look of tender admiration with 
 which he was regarding her. She was too busy
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y'S NEPHE W. 33 
 
 controlling her own feelings to trouble herself 
 about his. 
 
 " She would be such a horrid woman, who would 
 make him, after he had told her, you know," she 
 said at last. 
 
 " Yes ; but there are horrid women, in the world." 
 
 " I suppose there are," said she, reluctantly. 
 "Isn't it a pity?" 
 
 " Yes, it is a pity, when one thinks of the misery 
 they cause. You are only thinking of her ; but do, 
 please, think of him for a minute. Is he to be 
 miserable for ever, only just because he has made a 
 mistake ? " He spoke quite impatiently. 
 
 " Only just ? " cried she, shaking her head, "Oh ! 
 but it is a great deal more than that. There must 
 be something very wrong, indeed, about him, before 
 he could make that sort of a mistake, you know ; " 
 and the little head nodded very decidedly and em- 
 phatically here. " K good man. wouldn't do it." 
 
 " A^YwZman," repeated he, discontentedly ; "but 
 so few men are good." 
 
 Her eyes turned upon him, radiant with surprise 
 and a sort of indignation. 
 
 " So few men good ! " she cried, " What an idea ! 
 How little you know !"
 
 34 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Another waltz was playing now. 
 
 " They are dancing again," she said, " and it is so 
 delicious ! Please, I don't understand what happens 
 do we change partners, or how do we manage ? " 
 
 "Where is her chaperone?" thought the gentle- 
 man. " Surely she came in with Mrs. Nesbit. How 
 can she be so completely left to herself ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, basely ; " we don't change 
 partners ; we go on dancing together as long as we 
 like." 
 
 " Then shall we begin again ? It is such waste 
 of time, when we migJit be dancing ! It seems al- 
 most wrong ; don't you think so ?" 
 
 " Decidedly," answered he ; and they commenced 
 waltzing. 
 
 When next they stopped, she instantly spoke 
 breathlessly, with a little joyful laugh. 
 
 " Can the lives in the different planets," she asked, 
 " be more different than the different lives in this 
 one ? " 
 
 Three "differents" in one sentence ; but he only 
 added three more to them in the reply which his 
 lips uttered, while his eyes were bent in keen admira- 
 tion on her sweet, animated face. 
 
 "And can the girls in different planets be more
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 35 
 
 different," he said, " than the different girls in this 
 one ? " 
 
 A surprised look in her face, as if thoughts racing 
 rapidly to an end had been brought to a sudden check 
 before they reached it. She glanced round her. 
 
 " Are they ? " she said, doubtfully ; " but no" 
 and again came that joyous child's laugh "girls 
 are so like, only you don't know it ; how should you ? 
 It's different dresses does it all." 
 
 " As now ? " asked he, puzzled. 
 
 "Ah !" she cried, nodding her pretty head confi- 
 dentially, " doiit I look like them all now ? And if 
 you could see me at home ! Why, I had not the 
 least idea what I was like." 
 
 He caught her meaning. 
 
 " This is your first appearance in such splendid 
 plumage, I daresay," he answered, smilingly ; " but 
 still, at home, I don't suppose you are quite a Cin- 
 derella." 
 
 " Yes, I am !" cried she, delighted ; " that is just 
 what I am ! Dear Cinderella ! don't you love the 
 story ? or didn't you when you were a child ? I 
 always was so fond of it, and how little I thought " 
 She burst out laughing, and, in her light-hearted 
 glee, seemed almost dancing where she stood.
 
 36 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " And the wicked sisters," said he. " Do you 
 carry out the story into all its particulars ? " 
 
 " No, indeed. Poor old Sissy ! What a shame ! 
 And yet yes partly, even in that; for she would 
 be surprised if she knew I was here." 
 
 "And the slipper," he continued, very much 
 amused "the slipper. I hope you will leave me 
 the slipper. I am the Prince, of course." 
 
 " As to that," she cried, " see ! " and, raising her 
 dress a little half -inch, her foot peeped out. 
 
 " Boots ! " he cried ; " but never mind. The 
 foot that wears them is small enough to be Cin- 
 derella's own. How I should like to find you some 
 morning among your cinders. May I come and try ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, certainly ; you may come and try." 
 
 " When next I call dn Mrs. Nesbit, I shall go 
 down the area steps into the kitchen." 
 
 " Will you ? That will be very humble of you. 
 But what in the world will you do it for ? " 
 
 " Why, in order to find Cinderella among her cin- 
 ders ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I see yes Mrs. Nesbit," speaking slowly 
 and looking about her, till her eye fell on the lady 
 in whose train she had entered the room. " Yes, 
 of course."
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y'S NEPHE W. 37 
 
 Then they danced again. 
 
 " Do you know Miss Hitchcock ? " she asked, as 
 the waltz stopped playing. 
 
 He started more perceptibly than at all became 
 a man of the world, but answered immediately, 
 " Yes, I do a little." 
 
 " She looks horrid. Is she?" 
 
 " Yes, very horrid." 
 
 " Poor thing ! how trying it must be ! " 
 
 " What ? " asked he, frowning. 
 
 " Why, to be like that ! Fancy being that one's 
 self. I do pity her ; don't you ? " 
 
 " Not a bit ; I pity those who have to do with her, 
 not her." 
 
 " How odd it all is ! how little I thought I should 
 meet her to-night ! I wonder what she thinks of 
 me; she does keep looking at me, doesn't she ? " then, 
 suddenly frightened, " Oh ! is it me or my dress she's 
 looking at ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know ; why, at you, of course, not 
 at your dress. What should she look at your dress 
 for ? Its charmingly pretty white and shiny and all 
 that ; but it's nothing remarkable, is it ? But why do 
 you keep on thinking so much about Miss Hitchcock 
 at all ? Verily, it's doing her too much honor."
 
 3 g MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Ah! but there's a reason I can't tell you why I 
 can't help thinking about her there is indeed." 
 
 A gentleman who had been for some time looking 
 a great deal at Miranda, now approached her, and 
 asked her partner to introduce him. He made the 
 necessary senseless signs, and uttered the accustomed 
 unintelligible sounds, and the ceremony of intro- 
 duction was complete. 
 
 The gentleman immediately asked her to dance 
 with him, but she smiled, and replied that she could 
 not, as she was dancing with and here she paused, 
 and glanced towards her partner for help, as she did 
 not know his name. 
 
 He did not return her glance for some reason or 
 other he was looking down on the floor. 
 
 " Yes, but that waltz is over ; may I not hope for 
 the next ? " persisted the stranger. 
 
 " But I am going on dancing with him," she 
 replied, with the greatest simplicity. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " was the answer, while the gentle- 
 man looked with surprise, first at the one and then 
 at the other. 
 
 Miranda's face was cool and bright ; while Lady 
 Gregory's nephew never lifted his eyes from the 
 floor, bit his lip, and uttered not a word. After a
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 39 
 
 moment's hesitation, the new-comer bowed gravely 
 and retired. He went straight across the room and 
 entered into conversation with Miss Hitchcock, 
 their eyes being pointedly directed, while they talked, 
 towards Miranda and her partner. 
 
 " What did he mean ? " asked Miranda ; but she 
 received no answer. 
 
 " That poor thing keeps looking at me like an 
 evil eye, and makes me quite nervous," continued 
 she, with a little shiver. 
 
 " Come into the next room," he said ; " the music 
 has stopped, the dance is over for the present, and 
 there we can take a turn safe from the persecution 
 of an eye that I must own, is an evil one." 
 
 " Don't you pity ugly people ? " said Miranda. 
 " It's no wonder they're cross ; it must be trying." 
 
 " I don't mind it a bit." 
 
 She looked at him, astonished, and then began to 
 laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! but you are not " she cried, and then 
 stopped, blushing and laughing again. " How ab- 
 surd you are ! I won't say it, because you said it on 
 purpose to make me." 
 
 " Say what ? " 
 
 " Oh you oh now oh no ! nothing at all."
 
 4 o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " And yet you won't say it, because I said it to 
 make you say it. How very obliging ! Thank you 
 very much." 
 
 " There is nothing to thank me for." 
 
 " Isn't there ? Well now, do you know, I thought 
 I had a great deal to thank you for ; but, seriously, 
 and to return to the question you put to me, I don't 
 think it matters one bit to people themselves, their 
 being ugly. It is their neighbors who suffer." 
 
 " Do you think so ? I don't. Perhaps men don't 
 care, but girls must. Now that poor Miss Hitch- 
 cock ; just fancy being as ugly as she is. I do pity 
 her." 
 
 " I pity her husband more." 
 
 " Her husband ? Oh no ; I don't pity him in the 
 least ; he needn't be her husband, but she must be 
 herself. He has chosen her out of all the world. 
 Why should you pity him ?" 
 
 " Because I think he is a most consummate ass." 
 
 " With all my heart ; but we needn't pity him for 
 that." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. An indifferently sensible 
 man, who behaves like an ass, is one of the most 
 pitiable people in the world." 
 
 " And is he indifferently sensible ? "
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 4I 
 
 " He is generally accounted so ; he is supposed 
 to have ordinary abilities." 
 
 " Oh well ! you know what I think of him. He 
 is making a mercenary marriage. One can't but de- 
 spise him ; and the cleverer he is, the worse he is." 
 
 " You are a severe judge." 
 
 " We must be mustn't we ? of what is paltry 
 and mean, or we shouldn't keep high-minded our- 
 selves, should we ? " 
 
 " Paltry and mean ! " repeated he. 
 
 She was surprised at his manner. 
 
 " Why do you repeat my words ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing," he replied, very quietly ; " only I 
 believe Mr. Cressingham is not generally considered 
 paltry and mean. I never happened to hear the 
 words applied to him before, that is all." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I oughtn't to have said it, but it 
 will do him no harm my applying them ; it is a 
 small matter what I think of him." 
 
 " Won't it ? is it? " answered he. 
 
 " The world is wide, these things are small ; 
 If they are nothing, what is there at all ? " 
 
 " Oh ! '' said she, smiling, " you are a reader of 
 Monkton Milnes." 
 
 " Are those lines from Monkton Milnes ? "
 
 42 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Did not you know it ? He writes charming 
 poetry, and never gets the credit of anything." 
 
 " Oh ! but I think he does ; he has a very high 
 reputation," replied her partner. 
 
 "I don't know. You see you quoted him without 
 knowing it ; and then I always think it is such a 
 shame that Tennyson gets all the credit of the 
 grand couplet about 'lov'd and lost,' when poor 
 Monkton Milnes said it first." 
 
 " ' Twere better to have lov'd and lost 
 Than never to have lov'd at all,' " 
 
 quoted her partner, in musical accents ; " but what 
 do you mean? Surely nobody said that before 
 Tennyson ? surely not Monkton Milnes ? When 
 and where ? " 
 
 She repeated softly, and without too much ex- 
 pression for a ballroom 
 
 " ' He who for love has undergone 
 
 The worst that can befall, 
 Is happier, thousand-fold, than one 
 Who never lov'd at all. 
 
 A grace within his soul hath reigned, 
 
 Which nothing else can bring ; 
 Thank God for all that I have gained 
 
 By this high suffering.'" 
 
 "Beautiful verses!" cried he; "and are those
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 43 
 
 
 Lord Houghton's ? Then, after all, Tennyson only 
 
 condensed what M41nes said before him ! " 
 
 " Yes, really, that was all ; and I have some no- 
 tion that the idea comes originally from a Spanish 
 poet," added she. 
 
 "And I have little doubt that, like almost every- 
 thing else, some Latin fellow said it first of all." 
 
 " No, really ; and isrit it curious that Tennyson 
 should have got all the credit ?" 
 
 " You are not an admirer of Tennyson. " 
 
 "/not an admirer of Tennyson ?" and her cheeks 
 flushed a lovely pink, while her eyes grew more ra- 
 diant than ever. "Why, I have him of my own, and 
 I saved up to buy him. I ah ! you don't know 
 you couldn't guess not if you tried forever what 
 I did in order to get Tennyson ; and I declare," she 
 cried, with sudden remorse, " I meant to have been 
 reading him all this evening, and here I am instead ! " 
 
 She looked really quite distressed, and he hastened 
 to comfort her. 
 
 " Well," he said, smiling, " you are talking of him 
 and quoting him, if you are not reading him; and 
 that is almost as good, I suppose." 
 
 It was a hot summer night, and while thus con- 
 versing, they had stepped out into a balcony full of
 
 44 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 flowers, that hung over the street. The ballroom;, 
 boked gay and fairy-like, seen under the festooned 
 arch of bright-tinted drapery, like a new world of 
 radiant lights and lovely colors apart, yet so near 
 of which they did not form a portion ; and yet, 
 viewing it as they did, from the cool, calm outer 
 world, where they stood alone, which appeared as if 
 it had been created only that they might so view it. 
 They stood leaning their backs against the railing of 
 the balcony, looking into the ballroom, when, sud- 
 denly, the dwellers therein began to pass in couples 
 across the room, all going in the same direction, and 
 there disappearing and not returning again. 
 
 "Where are they going?" asked Miranda. 
 
 " To supper," replied Lady Gregory's nephew ; and 
 he offered her his arm, and prepared to re-enter the 
 room. 
 
 As he did so, the window in the next house that 
 house where Miranda lived, and which also looked 
 into a balcony, divided from the one in which they 
 stood by only a low railing was thrown open by 
 some one in the room inside. A bright idea at the 
 same moment struck Miranda an idea which she 
 accepted with regret, and yet which she felt must be 
 acted on. At intervals during that splendidly happy
 
 LADY GREGORY'S NEPHEW. 45 
 
 evening, a vague uneasiness had filled her mind as to 
 how she could return. It had been easy to get there, 
 but how how how how could she return back 
 again ? How, even if she managed to escape, could 
 she stand alone on the door-steps of her own house in 
 the late night or early morning hours, and ring the 
 bell and knock? If a servant was roused by the 
 sounds she made, or her landlady herself, how could 
 she explain what she had been doing, to account for 
 her being alone at that hour on the door-steps in 
 Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress ? And if no one 
 was roused, there would be policemen, and possibly, 
 passers-by, to stare at her and wonder who she was, 
 and, perhaps, even to stop and ask her questions. 
 
 Now a means of escape seemed offered to her as 
 unexpected as it was easy. She was aware that a 
 gentleman had taken the drawing-room floor only 
 that day. He had probably spent the evening out, 
 and on his late return had opened the window. It 
 was as if it had been all done only for her. 
 
 She looked at her partner, her eyes full of regret. 
 Oh ! how happy she was, and how she liked him ! 
 Never had she conversed in this way with anyone 
 before ; never had she liked anyone half so much. 
 Of course she should never see him again never
 
 46 MJSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 speak to him again. Of course he would not give 
 her another thought ; but she should remember him 
 all her life he would have a niche in her heart 
 entirely his own ; and when she was an old woman, 
 she knew she should still think with delight of this 
 wonderful evening, and of the man who had danced 
 with her on it " Yes, I am sure I shall," she said 
 to herself, "unless I am a very ungrateful old 
 woman." 
 
 Just reflect for one moment what her life was, and 
 what this evening must have been to her. 
 
 She did not take his arm, and she looked at him 
 very sorrowfully. 
 
 " It is too warm for supper. I could not eat any- 
 thing," she said. " If you would bring me a glass 
 of lemonade here, would you ? I should be so much 
 obliged." 
 
 He was gone directly. 
 
 " Oh ! why was he in such a hurry ? Alas ! " she 
 sighed " he is gone, and I shall never see him 
 again." She felt so much more moved than she 
 had expected to do, or could at all understand, that 
 she stood for the moment like one bewildered. 
 " Oh ! I should like to run after him," she said to 
 herself, "just for one minute. Why did I not thank
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y'S NEPHE W. ^ 
 
 him for having made me so happy ? How heartless 
 I was ! and I shall never see him again." And then 
 she found that she had been crying. 
 
 So she thought it was time to act, and after look- 
 ing about her as if she was afraid of being seen (as 
 indeed she was), she softly and nimbly climbed over 
 the railing that divided the two balconies, and stood 
 in the one that belonged to the drawing-room of her 
 own house. The window, as we said before, was 
 wide open. A light streamed through it, which 
 seemed dim enough to Miranda's eyes, still spark- 
 ling, as it were, from the brilliant illuminations in 
 the ballroom. Probably it was a single candle, 
 lighted by the new lodger on his return home. 
 Happy man ! he had a latch-key, and so could let him- 
 self in at any hour he pleased, and no one who saw 
 him at any hour of the night, standing on the door- 
 steps and opening the door with it, would feel the 
 faintest emotion even of a surprise, and this only 
 just because he was a man and not a woman. Mi- 
 randa was not at all inclined to stand up for the 
 rights of women ; but it did occur to her at that 
 moment, as a great injustice, that only men should 
 be allowed a latch-key. 
 
 And now, where was the lodger, and what was he
 
 48 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. ' 
 
 doing ? If she could only know whether he had his 
 back to the window or not. If he had, she might 
 glide in, and pass so noiselessly and gently across 
 the room, that he would not know she was there till 
 she was gone. 
 
 Time was precious. It was no use hesitating ; 
 she must act at once, and bear the consequences, 
 whatever they might be. 
 
 And so she crossed the threshold of the open 
 French window and entered the room. 
 
 A single candle burned on the table in the centre. 
 A man was standing yes, actually with his back to 
 the window, stooping over another small table in the 
 corner just opposite the door. 
 
 Miranda glided forward like a ghost, but as she 
 did so was it mere accident ? or was it that mys- 
 terious consciousness of an existence beyond our 
 own approaching us, which we have all of us, I sup- 
 pose, felt in one way or other (the most frequent way, 
 perhaps, being that the gaze of a pair of eyes direct- 
 ed towards the sleeping face will recall the soul 
 from the land of dreams, and bring it back, startled 
 and half reluctant, to this work-a-day world) ? what- 
 ever was the cause, whether commonplace or meta- 
 physical, the new lodger, as Miranda entered the
 
 LAD Y GREGOR Y 'S NEPHE W, 4 g 
 
 room, began slowly raising himself from his stooping 
 posture and preparing to turn round. 
 
 She perceived the danger, and, quick as thought, 
 blew out the candle. "Hullo ! " cried an astonished, 
 voice ; and then, as she made her way rapidly towards 
 the door, a match was suddenly struck, and the little 
 blaze of light directed full towards her retreating 
 figure. But she was gone ; breathlessly she flew up 
 the stairs. Alas ! the gas still burned on the stair- 
 case. She felt rather than heard she was pursued ; 
 but the door was yet between them, and she had a 
 minute's start of her pursuer. She knew and he, 
 of course, did not of a housemaid's cupboard full 
 of brooms and brushes at the head of the first flight 
 of stairs, the door of which was papered over and 
 scarcely visible ; and before the drawing-room door 
 opened, and the amazed new lodger made his appear- 
 ance on the staircase, Miranda satin dress, lace 
 flounces, diamonds and all was safely ensconced in 
 this closet, among Nancy's implements for making 
 everything clean and tidy but themselves. 
 
 She heard him walking about with heavy steps in 
 a vague, changeable way : first he was running, 
 then he stopped, then seemed to be taking little 
 turns in different directions, and, as she thought
 
 5 o M/SS HITCHCOCfCS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 softly opening doors and peeping inside them, and 
 every now and then she heard him say, " By Jove ! " 
 
 Poor Miranda ! she laughed to that degree that 
 she could hardly stand ; she laughed till she cried, 
 and till the suppression of all sound, and the violent 
 effort by which that suppression was attained, be- 
 came actual pain. At last, however, and a very long 
 at last it seemed to the imprisoned girl, she heard 
 the unfortunate new lodger return to his room ; and 
 then, after a delay of a few moments, from the fear 
 that he might make another raid, she liberated her- 
 self from her uncomfortable and cramped position, 
 and fled noiselessly up stairs to her garret. 
 
 There lay Sophy in heavy, undisturbed sleep ; 
 and there Miranda divested herself of all her lovely 
 borrowed plumes. She looked around on the shabby 
 garret she knew so well, with its sloping roof, rick- 
 ety furniture, and carpetless floor, and crept into the 
 bed where, night after night, she had lain so sleepily 
 down by Sophy's side, and she wondered whether 
 she was indeed the same girl who had been waltz- 
 ing in the brilliant ballroom with Lady Gregory's 
 nephew, or whether she should not, on waking the 
 following morning, find that it was all a dream.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AT MADAME LA GAl's. 
 
 THE next morning Sophy was ill. Poor, pa- 
 tient, hard-working Sophy ! She lifted h^-r 
 head from her pillow to find it all light and giddy ; 
 and when she tried to get up, she fainted away. 
 Her fainting roused Miranda, wrapped in the 
 soundest, sweetest sleep by her side. She rose 
 hastily to attend on her sister, and had replaced her 
 in bed, restored her fluttering senses, rapidly dressed 
 herself, and made poor Sophy some hot tea, before 
 her eye happening to fall on the satin dress 
 hanging on the door the wonderful events of the 
 preceding evening flashed on her mind. Up to 
 that moment she had forgotten them as entirely as 
 if they had never happened ; and when they came 
 back to her memory, they came all at once with a 
 sudden rush, and she recognized them as a part of 
 her life which had somehow wrought a change ; if 
 not, alas ! in that life, at least in her who led it.
 
 5 2 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 First of all, as she looked at the dress, she gave 
 a great start, and a crimson blush spread all over 
 her beautiful face ; then she laughed a little, 
 chuckling, child-like laugh and then tears came 
 into her sweet eyes and hung on their long dark 
 lashes. 
 
 "Poor Sissy!" she said; " poor, poor Sissy! so 
 ill, and with nothing pleasant to think of ! " 
 
 She kissed her vehemently. Sophy opened her 
 tired eyes, and saw lovely Miranda standing there 
 kissing her, as brilliant as a morning in the depth of 
 June, her lips still smiling, and the bright color in 
 her cheeks seeming all the pinker for the tears 
 glittering on it. 
 
 " Why do you do that?" she said in her weary 
 voice, faint and hoarse now from illness. 
 
 " I love you so, Sissy," said Miranda. " I am so 
 sorry for you. I wish you had been at a ball last 
 night." 
 
 Sophie stared at her. 
 
 " Wish what ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, that you had something pleasant to think 
 of ! " cried Miranda, impatiently. " All the pleas- 
 ures in your life have become pains when you re- 
 member them. They are pains now, just because
 
 AT MADAME LA GA1-*. 53 
 
 they were pleasures then ; and that is so hard upon 
 you, that I can hardly bear it." 
 
 " It won't matter when I am dead," replied 
 Sophy, so quietly, and with such a .wild look in her 
 eyes, that the contrast between her voice and her 
 eyes was quite horrible. 
 
 Miranda gave a little scream, and rushed down 
 stairs to call Mrs. Green, their friendly landlady, to 
 her sister. 
 
 " Dear heart ! " said that good woman, when she 
 had examined the patient, " the poor thing's just 
 worn out like, and no wonder, it's that weary stitch- 
 ing and stitching, and no pleasure at all ; and she's 
 feverish ; it's rest she wants, Miss Miranda, and 
 then, when she's better, a Llow of country air on 
 her white cheeks to make her strong again. Poor 
 lady ! she's too quiet under her troubles ; and 
 so she goes on and on, and nobody knowin", 
 till a day comes when she breaks down ail at 
 onct." 
 
 By this time Sophy had sunk into a heavy sleep, 
 and Miranda began, slowly and sorrowfully, to put 
 the finery in which she had been so happy the night 
 before carefully away. 
 
 Afterwards she sat in the little parlor below
 
 j4 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 making a black silk mantle, which was part of Miss 
 Hitchcock's trousseau. 
 
 What a life it was for a young girl to lead born 
 a gentlewoman, bred among green fields, sweet 
 English gardens, and furze-scented commons to 
 sit there working all day long in a dingy room look- 
 ing into a dingier court, the only creature belonging 
 to her lying ill in bed worn out with hardships, and 
 she conscious that if she ceased working they might 
 both starve ! 
 
 And yet, while she sat there busily plying her 
 needle, she sang. 
 
 First she just warbled little snatches of melody, 
 that floated round her for a moment, as the bright 
 young voice sent them forth into the world, and 
 then disappeared somehow and somewhere but 
 how and where ? Did they cease to exist, dying 
 almost at their birth ? or do they still live ? and do 
 all sweet sounds once uttered live on through all 
 ages and give pleasure for ever ? 
 
 Then after a time she sang the following song: 
 
 " I will rob the linnet 
 
 On his leafy throne 
 Of the sweetest minute 
 He has ever known.
 
 AT MADAME LA GAFS. 55 
 
 " Listen to his chanting, 
 Undismayed by art ; 
 Nothing can be wanting 
 In a linnet's heart. 
 
 " All my life hath given 
 
 All the joys that live 
 Ev'rything but Heaven 
 I will gladly give, 
 
 " Just to be one minute, 
 Ere my life is done, 
 Happy as a linnet 
 Singing to the sun." 
 
 Then she began to laugh. " Such nonsense ! " she 
 said ; " as if a linnet was happier than a girl ! Why, 
 it can't dance ! I can sing, and I can dance, too, 
 and it can only sing. Why, if I was in a tree, and 
 my face turned up to the sweet blue sky, and I 
 singing, I would defy any linnet to be one bit hap- 
 pier than I should be there ; and after that I could 
 dance, and a poor little linnet could only fly; and I 
 fly in my dreams. I have often flown when I'm 
 asleep, and its not to compare with dancing. Do 
 birds dream, I wonder ? and do they dance in their 
 dreams? That would make a difference, I admit. 
 But the happiest dreams are not so happy as hap- 
 piness ! Happiness is such a delicious thing ; there
 
 56 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 is nothing like it nothing ! It always seems to me 
 as if we were made for happiness, and all the rest 
 was a mistake. Just like fine weather beautiful, fine 
 weather is the real thing, and the rain is just a 
 mistake ; but not clouds they are so lovely ! 
 Clouds are sometimes the loveliest thing on earth, 
 only they are not qn earth ; they are in the sky, and 
 perhaps that is why they are more beautiful than 
 anything else. They are near heaven, and that 
 may be why happiness is so beautiful ; for in 
 heaven everyone will be happy poor Sissy and 
 all ! Only I do wish Sissy to be happy out of 
 heaven first. Oh ! I do wish Sissy to be happy ! " 
 
 Thus Miranda's thoughts ran on from one thing 
 to another ; but, run on as they, might, they were 
 all as sweet and bright and innocent as her face. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Green came into the room, bring- 
 ing her scanty repast a bit of cold mutton and a 
 potato. 
 
 " My dear," said she, " I fetched a cup of tea up 
 to Miss Sophy, and she's taken it and a morsel of 
 toast, and now she's gone to sleep again. Poor 
 thing ! she's tired out ; and if I believe in Adam, 
 Miss Miranda, I believe that tired out is just the 
 only thing that's the matter with her ; I do, indeed.".
 
 AT MADAME LA GArs. 57 
 
 " Well, I must work "double, then, and try to rest 
 her," said Miranda, 'cheerfully. " I like working 
 double it makes me feel strong and big." 
 
 " Bless your innocent heart," said the landlady ; 
 " eat your dinner, and don't tire yourself out too. 
 That's the best thing to do the poor body up stairs 
 good, or to make you big-and strong either." 
 
 Then Miranda ate her dinner, and Mrs. Green 
 waited on her. 
 
 " My dear," said she, confidentially, " that's a queer 
 gent we've got on our first floor." 
 
 Miranda blushed crimson and laughed softly. 
 
 " He's been and saw a ghost immediate," said 
 Mrs. Green ; " and no one ever see'd a ghost on these 
 premises before not in any number of weeks, let 
 alone the first evening." 
 
 Miranda opened her eyes wide. 
 
 " What was the ghostlike ? " asked she. . 
 
 " Like a pretty woman, he says,, dressed all in 
 white but, in course, it was dressed in white that 
 follows, for ghosts always is ; it would be unnatural 
 like if they wasn't, in course." 
 
 " And what did it do ?" 
 
 " Well, it appeared and it couldn't help that 
 nei'Aer there's not much fault to be found with it
 
 5 8 MIZS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 for that ; for, as a ghost, it could not do much else, 
 I suppose." 
 
 " And was that all ? " 
 
 " Dear me, no ; that wasn't all, miss. It did what 
 no ghost has any call to do that I ever heared tell 
 of it blew out the candle." 
 
 " Good gracious, Mrs. Green ! what a thing for a 
 ghost to do ! " 
 
 " Well, leastways, miss, the candle went out some- 
 how the thing appeared, and the candle went out 
 and then the first floor struck a light, he did, and 
 sees the white thing just whisking through the 
 door ; and he follers it, he does, and finds nothing 
 at all, nowhere." 
 
 "And did he really believe it was a ghost?" 
 
 " Not at first, miss. He questioned me as to 
 every woman there was in the house, and I told 
 him there was myself and the cook and Nancy ; and 
 he sniggered, the first floor did, and he says, says he, 
 it wasn't none of we ; so I said there was Mrs. 
 Jones and the two Miss Jones's in the front parlor ; 
 so he questions me about them sharp, and I tells 
 him Mrs. Jones is a fine woman of forty-five, and 
 the Miss Jones's are her husband's sisters, and no 
 younger than she, and just like other ladies who don't
 
 AT MADAME LA GAPS. 59, 
 
 get married when they are young ; so he sniggered 
 again, the first floor did he's a one for sniggering, 
 he is and he says it wasn't them at all ; and I says, 
 says I, of course it wasn't, or anyone else neither, 
 but just that he'd fallen asleep on his sopha and 
 dreamt it ; and then he asks, the first floor does, is 
 there nobody else in the house at all ; and I says 
 nobody at all ; and then I tells him of you and Miss 
 Sophy, and that you'd both been in your bed for 
 hours and hours and hours when he came home ; 
 and then he says, says he, very well, then, of course 
 it must have been a ghost, for it was nobody at all, . 
 and he'd seen it evident ; and he never slept on 
 the sopha, and wouldn't have such a thing evened 
 to him ; and he never took a drop too much, and he 
 hadn't had a drop then at all, and he hoped he 
 could stand a great deal more than he'd took 
 that evening without seeing ghosts ; so I just said, 
 more shame for him, and left him there. But I'm 
 afraid he's wild, Miss Miranda, and I shall give him 
 notice to quit if it happens again, for I couldn't 
 have ghosts seen in my house it might give it a 
 bad name and, for my own part, I can't abide the 
 creatures, and never could." 
 
 " Oh dear, Mrs. Green ! " said Miranda, quite
 
 6o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDLVG DRESS. 
 
 alarmed ; " I wouldn't give the poor man notice to 
 quit on that account I wouldn't, indeed. Probably 
 nothing more will happen ; and it would be very 
 hard upon him very.'' 
 
 " Then why does he go for to see ghosts, miss ? " 
 replied Mrs. Green, with unusual sharpness. 
 
 For two days Miranda nursed Sophy assiduously, 
 working by her bedside, and never leaving the house. 
 And just as brave and cheerful was she as if she 
 lived in a gay, happy home the life of pleasant ease 
 led by the generality of young ladies in England. 
 On the afternoon of the second day she was obliged 
 to leave her sister to go to Madame La Gai's show- 
 rooms. Occasionally, Sophy was expected to ap- 
 pear in the show-rooms an employment which she 
 always kept to herself, and in which she never 
 allowed Miranda to assist ; but to-day there was no 
 help for it ; Sophy could not go, and so Miranda 
 must. 
 
 To tell the truth, she rather liked the idea there 
 was novelty in it change and variety ; and though 
 Miranda never found herself consciously wishing 
 for change, she welcomed it, when it came, with 
 delight. 
 
 She put on the black silk skirt in which Sophy
 
 AT MADAME LA GAFS. 61 
 
 usually attired herself for these occasions, and her 
 own little Sunday bonnet, which, thanks to the 
 fashion of bonnets, was as pretty, foolish, and be- 
 coming as the most expensive head-dress turned out 
 by Madame Elise could probably be, though it had 
 been made by her own ringers, at the cost of a few 
 shillings. 
 
 She smiled at herself in the glass. 
 
 "You don't look half so pretty, dear," said she, 
 "as you did in diamonds and white satin ; but that 
 doesn't matter. You are not going to dance, and '' 
 with a little pause and a little sigh, and an almost 
 reluctant dwelling on the words "you wont meet 
 Lady Gregory's nephew." And so she kissed 
 Sophy with the tenderest kisses, and, tripping out 
 of the house, sought Madame La Gai's handsome 
 private residence in George Street. 
 
 When she went up into the bonnet and mantle 
 room, the first person her eye rested on was a tall, 
 slight, fashionable-looking lady, with a dark, cross, 
 ugly face. 
 
 " Who is she ? " thought Miranda. " I know I 
 have seen her before. Who can she be ? Oh ! is it 
 possible? Yes, to be sure poor, plain thing! it 
 really is Miss Plitchcock. How cross she looks !
 
 6 2 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 What a horrid fellow Mr. Cressingham must be to 
 marry her ! Oh ! I had fifty thousand times rather 
 be my poor, little, young, hard-worked self than 
 that rich, ill-tempered woman who is going to be 
 married for her money." 
 
 " Put it on that young person's shoulders," said 
 a remarkably pleasant voice, that quite took Miranda 
 by surprise, proceeding as it did from the cross, 
 plain face she was passing her reflections on. " Put 
 it on that young person's shoulders ; she has a tol- 
 erable figure, and one might judge better of the 
 effect." 
 
 So Miranda, quite new to the work as she was, 
 was turned round, blushing and surprised, to have 
 an exquisite little bit of furbelow and froth in 
 which lace, gauze, and ribbon somehow managed to 
 keep together, and to make a sort of a something 
 which might adorn, though it could neither warm 
 nor conceal the figure thrown over her slight grace- 
 ful shoulders. 
 
 Miss Hitchcock put up her glass, and desired her 
 to move about, while she scanned the furbelow and 
 froth criticisingly, but with evident satisfaction. 
 
 *' Yes," she said, slowly, in the same pleasant 
 voice ; " it's not so bad it may do there's some-
 
 AT MADAME LA GAPS. 63 
 
 thing rather novel and nice about it, isn't there ? " 
 Then, suddenly bringing her eye-glass to a halt on 
 Miranda's fair, blushing face, and with a puzzled ex- 
 pression on her own " Have I seen that young 
 woman here before, Madame La Gai ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, I think not/' replied Madame La Gai, 
 slightly annoyed, and casting an apologetic glance 
 at Miranda. 
 
 " Her face seems strangely familiar to me. A 
 likeness, I suppose." 
 
 " She is like Miss Venables," said a lady who 
 accompanied Miss Hitchcock. 
 
 " Oh no, mamma ! " cried another ; " she is the 
 very image of that pretty girl at Lady Gregory's 
 ball whom Mr. " 
 
 " Hush Maria," said the elder lady. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Hitchcock, slowly, and letting 
 her glass drop from her eye, " that must be the like- 
 ness I saw. But why should Maria hush, Mrs. 
 Leslie ? Do you think I mind ? " And she gave a 
 harsh, scornful laugh, as strikingly unpleasant as her 
 voice was the reverse. 
 
 Meantime, Miranda stood blushing and out of 
 countenance, but so much amused, that her pretty 
 dimples were constantly appearing.
 
 64 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Certainly," said Maria, smiling kindly at her, " it 
 is the strongest likeness I ever saw. You don't 
 mind being considered like a great beauty who made 
 quite a sensation at Lady Gregory's ball," she added, 
 addressing Miranda in a tone of pleasant patronage ; 
 " do you ? " 
 
 " But I'm not a beauty, am I ? " exclaimed 
 Miranda. 
 
 " Well, indeed, I think you are," replied the other 
 girl, laughing. " I'd give a good deal, I can tell you, 
 to have such a complexion as yours, without pink 
 and white polish." 
 
 " Don't be foolish, Maria," said her mother ; "don't 
 be putting ideas into the young woman's head." 
 
 " But what's the use of heads, mamma, unless we 
 have ideas in them ? and what the use of ideas unless 
 they make us jolly ? and there's nothing going so 
 awfully jolly as knowing we are pretty," said Maria, 
 a delicate, fragile little beauty, who looked quite unfit 
 to utter the slang phrases that tripped cheerfully out 
 of her small rosebud mouth. 
 
 " What was that girl's name at Lady Gregory's 
 ball ?" said Miss Hitchcock. 
 
 " I asked everybody, and nobody knew," replied 
 Mrs. Leslie.
 
 AT MADAME LA GAPS. g- 
 
 " Why didn't you ask nobody then, if nobody 
 knew," said her daughter. "/ asked nobody, and so 
 I can tell you. She was a Miss Style a great York- 
 shire heiress who came with Mrs. Nesbit. Isn't it 
 hard lines on nous autres that such a beauty should 
 be an heiress too. I'll bet a pony she sings. Do 
 you sing ? " turning abruptly to Miranda. 
 
 " Oh yes, I sing," she replied, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! oh, Miss Hitchcock ! we've noth- 
 ing to do till the carriage comes. Do let us make 
 her sing. You'll sing, won't you, you counterpart of 
 Miss Style ? " 
 
 " Only I'm not an heiress," said Miranda, shaking 
 her head. 
 
 " Such a pity, isn't it ? But perhaps you will be 
 some day. Some rich old fellow will leave you a 
 fortune, or some rich young fellow will marry you." 
 
 " Hush, Maria," said her mother. 
 
 " But maynt she sing, mamma ? You know how 
 we want a soprano. Wouldn't she just do ? She 
 sings soprano, of course." 
 
 " How can you be so nonsensical ? " 
 
 " Well, mamma, if we don't catch such a catch as 
 this, we shall be doing what pulpit men are always 
 
 telling us not to do what is it ? I forget. I have 
 5
 
 66 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 a bad head for words ; but it's something or other 
 about what is it now ? It's not investments, or di- 
 gestion, is it ? No, no ; those are the two things 
 papa's always talking of ; but you must know what 
 1 1 mean, mamma, for your own pet parson was 
 going on at us about it at a precious rate only last 
 Sunday morning. Oh ! I beg your pardon. I for- 
 got you were asleep all the time, so you couldn't be 
 expected to remember." 
 
 " How could I help dozing a little, my dear, when 
 you kept me at Mrs. Venables' ball till two o'clock 
 the night before ? " 
 
 " Oh ! nobody's blaming you don't cry out till 
 you're hurt don't defend yourself till called upon. 
 But I have it ! I know what I'm talking about at 
 last it's privileges ! Yes, that's what clergymen 
 are always talking about our privileges ! We're 
 not to fly in the face of our privileges and here's 
 one, and I do declare you're going to fly in its face, 
 mamma you are, indeed. Now what is the use 
 of going to church ? " 
 
 " My dear, pray do whatever you like," replied 
 her mother, resignedly. 
 
 " Oh ! very well. I'm glad I've reformed you. 
 A reformed parent is no end of a blessing. Now,
 
 AT MADAME LA GAPS. 67 
 
 my dear, will you sing us a pretty song directly, 
 please, so that we may see if you'll do ! " 
 
 Miranda stood smiling, and now and then laugh- 
 ing a little, while the young lady was running on. 
 Now she opened her eyes wide and looked about her. 
 
 " But am I really to sing ? " asked she, her fair 
 face radiant with smiles. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, you are, you pretty creature ! '' 
 cried Maria, laughing admiringly at her in her turn 
 as she spoke. 
 
 Miranda almost raised her hand to clasp that of 
 the kindly, fast, fashionable girl, who was looking at 
 her with such friendly eyes ; but the impulse was 
 only momentary, and her hand fell by her side 
 again. And then suddenly she burst forth into one 
 of her quaint old-world songs, not at that time 
 known in London circles, but which now, I believe, 
 are to be had at the music-sellers' shops in Regent 
 Street. 
 
 MIRANDA'S SOXG. 
 
 " Where are the words so sweet and gay ? 
 
 Alas ! where are they hidden ? 
 The words my lips were meant to say ? 
 O for the glory of a day 
 
 When they will come unbidden !
 
 68 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Those I speak were never meant 
 
 From these lips of mine to spring, 
 Vaguely bringing discontent 
 
 " Why do I utter word on word, 
 
 Invented and amended ? 
 O for the instinct of a bird, 
 Who sings not what is most preferred, 
 
 But what was first intended ! 
 All its joy I covet not 
 
 Happy nest and plumage gay 
 Could I only utter what 
 
 I were meant to say ! " 
 
 For a few minutes the room was full of the 
 exquisite music and the strange suggestive words 
 that floated about among bonnets and head-dresses, 
 robes de chambres and promenade dresses, like 
 mountain breezes in a ballroom. 
 
 After that there was a profound silence. 
 
 The three fashionable women stood looking at 
 Miranda, and saying not a word. 
 
 At last Maria spoke. 
 
 " Oh, mamma! " she cried, " it's heaven, isn't it ? 
 We must have her for our charade." 
 
 It was a curious jumble of ideas, perhaps heaven 
 and our charade but Maria's sweet, fragile face
 
 A T MADAME LA GATS. 69 
 
 expressed some deeper emotion than was wont to 
 shine there. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear, I think we must," replied Mrs. 
 Leslie. " What do you say, Miss Hitchcock ? " 
 
 Miss Hitchcock said nothing. She had tears on 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Miranda felt her gay heart almost dismayed as she 
 saw the brown, hard, ugly woman crying at her song. 
 " Perhaps," said she, softly, " she is the best of 
 us all." 
 
 The others did not attend to her. 
 "You will have to come to us?" cried Maria. 
 " You see mamma says so too. You will come, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " But what am I to come for ? " 
 " Oh ! to be soprano in our charade. Our soprano 
 has gone abroad, and we won't know what on earth 
 to do without one, and you are such an awfully nice 
 little thing." 
 
 " Am I really ? " asked Miranda, simply. " I didn't 
 know it." 
 
 " Yes, but you are ; and you sing like a bird ; and 
 you've a very good form, too, and altogether very 
 like an angel." 
 
 " I really think, if the young person will give us
 
 >jo MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 her address," said Mrs. Leslie, " that some arrange- 
 ment might be made." 
 
 " Why, you live here with Madame La Gai, don't 
 you ? " said Maria. 
 
 "No," replied Miranda, "I live with Sophy." 
 
 " Happy Sophy ! " said the London belle. " I 
 should like to live with you, my dear ; and if I was 
 a man, I'd marry you to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, if I would marry you," laughed Miranda, 
 confident in her maiden freedom ; " and Sophy is 
 not one bit happy. She is ill now, and she is not 
 happy even when she is well." 
 
 " Are we to stay here all day ? " asked Miss 
 Hitchcock, very abruptly. 
 
 " I thought we were waiting for " began Mrs. 
 Leslie. 
 
 " I am not waiting for anyone," replied Miss 
 Hitchcock, haughtily ; " and I never shall think of 
 waiting for him. I made an appointment, which I 
 kept because I always keep my appointments ; but 
 if other people don't, / don't wait. I have finished 
 my business. Shall we go ?" 
 
 Her harsh words were spoken in her peculiarly 
 pleasant voice, and ended by a slight unmirthful 
 laugh, as harsh as themselves.
 
 AT MADAME LA GAPS. ^ 
 
 " Oh yes, certainly, by all means," replied Mrs. 
 Leslie, a little flurried. , 
 
 " But where do you live, my dear ? " said Maria, 
 addressing Miranda. 
 
 Miranda gave her direction, which the young 
 lady wrote carefully down on the outside of her 
 ivory fan. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I shall either send for you to 
 me, or I shall come to you, and then we can settle 
 everything, can't we ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Miranda, laughing, " I sup- 
 pose we can." 
 
 "What a joyous thing you are!" said Maria, 
 rather enviously. " Are you always laughing ? " 
 
 "Yes, generally, I think," was the reply, with 
 another happy little laugh, " when I'm not doing 
 something else." 
 
 And so the three ladies swept out of the room, 
 and the young dressmaker remained alone. 
 
 She moved mechanically into the window, and 
 watched Maria and her companions get into a very 
 handsome carriage and drive away. 
 
 " How curious it all is ! " thought she, dreamily. 
 " Have I somehow got into a new world since the 
 moment when I walked down our door-steps in Miss
 
 j2 MJSS HITCHCOCICS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Hitchcock's wedding dress ? Is it all different, and 
 always to be different? and will the old monotonous 
 days never return ? First the ball now meeting 
 them here, and that Maria making me sing and 
 this charade they talk of ; will that be the next 
 thing, or will there be anything else between now 
 and then ? We must not get dull again, my life ; 
 must we, you and I ? But were we dull before ? 
 You were, I do believe ; but was I ? No. I wasn't 
 one bit ; but shall I be now, if we both went back 
 again to the old thing? Yes, I shall and that's 
 how it has been. Now I understand poor Sophy. 
 She is unhappy because she knows ; and I didn't 
 know, and now I do. There was no merit in my 
 being gay, but there would have been in her being 
 so. It's like what papa dear papa used to say 
 about courage it's nothing at all unless you know 
 what the danger is ; in fact, you are not really 
 courageous unless you are frightened that's only 
 a way of putting it, of course ; but you must see 
 and appreciate the danger before you can show true 
 courage. And now, what I have got to do is to be 
 cheerful and happy, though my eyes are opened, 
 and I know what my life is, and what it might be 
 if I'm not, all my gay spirits were mere selfishness,
 
 AT MADAME LA GAI'S. 73 
 
 and worse than worthless that will be a sort of 
 courage, and I believe I can do it. I feel brave, 
 and I love Sophy." And if ever a young creature 
 looked at once brave and loving, thus looked our 
 Miranda, as she stood in that window, her cheeks 
 rather pinker, and her eyes more radiant than usual, 
 as her pure, beautiful soul, full of these new 
 thoughts, shone through them. Unconsciously, she 
 was gazing into the streets all the time, and uncon- 
 sciously the words came floating back into her 
 mind with hardly their full sense attached to them 
 " But will the charade be the next thing ? or will 
 there be something else between this and then?" 
 She was fully awakened to her meaning by what 
 did happen at that very moment. 
 
 A cabriolet, with a splendid horse in it, and 
 with all its appointments, as even her ignorant eyes 
 could see, in the first style, dashed up to the door 
 beneath her window, and, flinging the reins to his 
 groom, while the bright bay charger stood almost 
 upright on his hind legs with the sudden shock 
 of the halt, Lady Gregory's nephew jumped out 
 of it. 
 
 " Was he come as an answer to her thoughts ? " 
 Blushing deeply of course only from the surprise
 
 74 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 and with her heart beating rapidly of course 
 from the same cause alone Miranda drew back 
 into the room. 
 
 " He is not coming in here, I know," she said, 
 softly.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 AND at the same moment he entered the room. 
 He had a discontented, irritated air about 
 him, which did not prevent her noticing perhaps 
 for the first time how handsome he was. She even 
 thought that slightly weary, slightly scornful look 
 suited his pale face and finely-cut features. He 
 glanced round him. 
 
 " No one here ? " he said, just aloud ; then his eye 
 fell on her. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " he exclaimed ; not a very ele- 
 gant or refined salutation, it must be confessed, but 
 in its genuineness, and in the voice in which it was 
 spoken, expressing volumes. And then his face 
 lighted up in the most extraordinary manner. Un- 
 affected joy took possession of it, and a dark-red 
 color actually mounted into his pale cheeks. 
 
 There could be no doubt that the man was both 
 astonished and delighted.
 
 76 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " And all at seeing me ! " thought Miranda. " How 
 very nice ! " 
 
 " Is it you ? Is it possible ? " cried he. " How 
 little I thought, when I mounted those stairs most 
 unwillingly, I admit that each step I took was 
 bringing me nearer to your presence." 
 
 " Of course, you didn't think it," replied she, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Yes ; but why ? " he cried. " I contend that I 
 ousrht that it is hard on me that I didn't that we 
 
 o 
 
 ougJit to have instincts and perceptions, and that it 
 is unfair to ourselves, when our hearts are so full of 
 them, if we have none outside our hearts." 
 
 " I wonder whether / had," said she, a little 
 thoughtfully ; " and that what I was thinking at the 
 moment you drove up meant it." 
 
 She had not the faintest idea of all, or any, of 
 what this speech committed her to. He saw that, or 
 the look of joy with which he received it would have 
 been dashed with disapproval, and perhaps the whole 
 course of both their lives might have been changed 
 only by that one speech. 
 
 But in her utter unconsciousness lay her charm, 
 and to the man of society that charm was deep and 
 potent.
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 77 
 
 The little mantelet, all furbelow and froth, still 
 hung on her shoulders, and her bonnet, as I have 
 before said, would pass muster anywhere. She 
 looked like a fashionable girl with the face and 
 spirit of an angel though as angels are spirits, I 
 suppose they cannot correctly be said themselves to 
 possess what they are. 
 
 " I have been looking for you everywhere," said 
 Lady Gregory's nephew " at the opera, in the park, 
 and all in vain ; and then I find you here, when I 
 am neither looking for you nor expecting to find you." 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling, " but that is so often 
 the case, isn't it ? The things come, when we are 
 not thinking about them, so much more frequently 
 than when we are." 
 
 " It would be difficult for you to come when I am 
 not thinking of you," said he ; and the remark 
 might pass for one of easy gallantry with those who 
 did not know the man, and so could not perceive 
 how much he was in earnest 
 
 " Was not that ball charming ? " said she, with 
 some abruptness, but only because her mind was 
 still full of the ball. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " it was the most charming 
 ball I ever attended."
 
 7 8 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " And you have been at so many," said Miranda, 
 with almost a sigh ; " and that is my only one. How 
 odd it must seem to have been to a great many 
 balls." 
 
 " But you will go to a great many too," answered 
 he, with quite a smile. " Have not you been to any 
 since ? " 
 
 She pursed up her mouth demurely, and glanced 
 at him from under her long lashes. 
 
 " No," she said, emphatically, " not to one. Isn't 
 it odd?" 
 
 " But you will," he said; "and they will become 
 mere commonplaces in your life, and at last be re- 
 garded as necessary troubles ; while before that 
 while you are still enjoying them that first ball 
 will fade away into something poor and insignif- 
 icant." 
 
 "Yes, that is likely, isn't it?" cried she, indig- 
 nantly. " That would be mere ingratitude. I think 
 it is so mean and ungrateful to feel in that way 
 about things that did all they could for you at the 
 time, because other happy things have happened 
 since." 
 
 " And yet we all do, don't we ? " said he. 
 
 " No, we all don't I don't. I love all my child-
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. j g 
 
 ish treats still, just because they were such treats 
 then." 
 
 " Do you really ? cowslip balls, donkey rides, 
 and everything ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. You laugh at me, but I djpn't care. 
 I won't despise one of them. I love everything 
 nice that ever happened to me. I think I love them 
 all the more because I shouldn't care for them now ; 
 because ah ! I'm stupid, and can't express what I 
 mean, but anybody must understand it. You do, 
 don't you ? Dont you feel it too ? " 
 
 What man could have resisted that don't, and 
 those eyes fixed so pathetically upon him ? Cer- 
 tainly not Lady Gregory's nephew. Perhaps there 
 was nothing in the world he would not have 
 declared he understood and felt, if so adjured. At 
 all events, he expressed complete and undivided 
 allegiance to the sentiments she now uttered, add- 
 ing, when he had done so, with a sincere and 
 unwonted humility 
 
 " I have not always thought of pleasures in that 
 light before, but it has been from want of considera- 
 tion more than from want of understanding. It is 
 a duty of the affections that I recognize the 
 moment it is put before me."
 
 go MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 "A duty of the affections ? " said she, with an air 
 of examination. " I suppose it is, though it had 
 not occurred to me " and she gave him the sweet- 
 est little look of respect possible. " I like to think 
 of it so." 
 
 A thrill of happiness, the intensity of which 
 amazed hin\, went all through him as he met that 
 glance of bright de'erence. 
 
 " We are very different, I suppose," said he ; 
 " but see how we feel alike. The difference is in 
 our lives only, perhaps." 
 
 " In that very past we were speaking of," replied 
 she, thoughtfully ; " it makes all the difference in 
 people, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " It makes a great difference, but " 
 
 "It is the background. Do you know, I dis- 
 covered to-day that our backgrounds make us." 
 
 " You discovered that to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that the figures in a picture come out and 
 look just what their background chooses. You 
 have a background full of balls. How strange it 
 must seem ! I have only one ball in my back- 
 ground ! Now, you can't think how that one ball 
 has changed me. It is like some great light put 
 suddenly into the background of a picture."
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 8 1 
 
 "Just a great piece of happiness," said he, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 "Oh no," she replied, shaking her head; "not 
 only that. Did you think that was all ! " 
 
 " Why, what else is it ? " 
 
 "The great light in the background does not 
 only make light ; it shows Jioiv dark some of the 
 other parts really are," said she, quite sorrowfully. 
 
 He looked at her now*with surprise, as he felt 
 how unlike she was to the other girls he knew. 
 
 " You are very young," he said, " to have thought 
 so much." 
 
 " What ! I ? " she cried, laughing. " Why, I have 
 never thought at all ! " 
 
 " Then you are extremely clever." 
 
 " Oh no," she said, " / am not clever ; Sophy is." 
 
 " Sophy must be wonderful, if she is cleverer than 
 you are." 
 
 " Don't laugh at me. Sophy is everything that 
 anybody could be, or ought to be. She is so good 
 and so poor and so old." This was spoken with 
 quite a little burst of enthusiasm. " Oh ! I am 
 sorry for Sophy." 
 
 " So am I, I'm sure, though I am not accustomed 
 to think much about'poor old people. Why do you 
 
 6
 
 82 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 call her Sophy, if she is so very old ? Sophy 
 sounds young, but I suppose she is an aunt, or 
 something of that sort ? " 
 
 " She is my sister, and she is ten years older than 
 I am ! " 
 
 " Oh h ! I see she is old in that sort of way ! 
 Now I understand. Do you know, you have made 
 me feel quite anxious to make Sophy's acquaintance. 
 Do you think there is anj- chance that I might be 
 introduced to her ? " 
 
 But Miranda shook her head, and looked inexor- 
 able. 
 
 " No," she said, " I don't think there is the slight- 
 est." 
 
 An expression of great disappointment came into 
 his face. 
 
 " I am going to dine at Mrs. Nesbit's on Thurs- 
 day," he said, in rather an offended manner. 
 
 " Are you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have not dined there for ages ; and I 
 had not meant to go there ; but I do so only for the 
 happiness of meeting you." His manner was still 
 that of a person slightly offended. 
 
 But Miranda laughed, and made no other reply to 
 his words than by her gay yet gentle laugh.
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 83 
 
 " And where else shall I meet you ? " he asked, 
 earnestly, the shade of hauteur going out of his 
 voice as he looked at her. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," said she, " unless per- 
 haps, at Mrs. Leslie's charade party. 
 
 She could not help saying this ; the words sug- 
 gested themselves to her even while she was speak- 
 ing, and her tongue littered them without consulting 
 her brain. 
 
 He caught at the idea. "Will you really be 
 there ? " he cried, delighted. 
 
 " Perhaps," she answered ; " I'm not sure, but 
 perhaps I might." 
 
 " Then I will certainly go, even on the chance ; 
 but I won't perform unless you do. Are you to be 
 among the audience or the performers ? You will 
 tell me, won't you ? " speaking ingratiatingly ; " and 
 then I shall know what to do myself." 
 
 " Well, if I go," said Miranda, excessively amused, 
 and feeling, while she carried on the jest, as if she 
 was even now taking a part in a charade, the answer 
 to which had yet to be guessed. "Ifl go, I should 
 very probably help them as soprano." 
 
 " Oh ! you sing ? " he said. " That is delightful. 
 I might have guessed that. You look it."
 
 84 JfSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Maria 'has asked me to sing," said Miranda, with 
 admirable gravity, and promising herself a hearty fit 
 of laughter as a reward when it was all over, and he 
 was gone. 
 
 " They were here, then, were they ? " asked he, 
 his countenance falling a little, like one to whom some 
 unpleasant reality had suddenly occurred, while the 
 play element in his nature was all aglow. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Leslie and Maria and Miss Hitch- 
 cock." 
 
 " Ah well ! never mind ; they are gone ; let them 
 go." Was he speaking to himself or to her ? 
 
 " With all my heart," said she, laughing. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, " what it is to be very 
 abruptly wakened out of a very happy dream ? " 
 
 " The dazed feeling ? " said she. " Oh yes ! " 
 
 " And the instantaneous bitter certainty that it is 
 only a dream, and that you are awake. No consola- 
 tory doubt no blessed indecision. There is your 
 life you must take it up ; there is your dream you 
 must leave it behind you." 
 
 " No," she said, instantly ; " I don't know that 
 feeling. Dreams, whether waking or sleeping ones, 
 continue part of us. We can't undream them. We 
 are roused out of them, but they remain."
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 85 
 
 " Do they ? " he said, doubtfully. " Yes, I really 
 believe they do part of our background. Say 
 are not they ? " 
 
 She nodded her head. " Yes," she said, " I believe 
 they are." 
 
 " And perhaps," he added, " if we tried very hard, 
 we could make them realities." 
 
 " If we dream very much, we sometimes fulfil our 
 dreams," said she, smiling brightly. " They make us 
 do things; at least day-dreams castles in the air 
 do. But for them I should never " have been at 
 that ball, she was going to say ; but she stopped 
 herself just in time. 
 
 " After all, a man can make his own life," said he, 
 looking steadily at her. " His life is in his own 
 hands in great measure in all essentials at least 
 till he marries." 
 
 " Ah ! it must be great to be a man. Would not 
 I fashion a noble life for myself ! " 
 
 " Would you ? " cried he, catching her enthusi- 
 asm. "And so would I; and so ivilll. From this 
 moment I have taken my resolution. I intend to 
 be happy." 
 
 " Well I suppose men can even be happy if they 
 please if they set about it the right way; but
 
 86 MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 women can't set about they are at the mercy of 
 almost everything." 
 
 " But then the happiest thing of all that a man 
 has to do, is to make a woman happy." 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling; but her maidenly instincts 
 forbade her pursuing that branch of the subject. 
 
 " When I said a man could make his own life, 
 you said that was great," he continued, looking 
 steadily at her, " and you said it with shining eyes ; 
 but when I spoke of being happy, disappointment 
 came into your face. Why ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, " of course ; because it was 
 only being happy." 
 
 " Only ! But what can you mean ? Is not that 
 what we are all trying for, a-nd all failing in ? more's 
 the pity. The great object of our lives is that we 
 shall be as happy as we can according to our dif- 
 ferent tastes and wishes." 
 
 " But to be good or great," she cried ; " those 
 are \h.Q first objects, are they not? and then happi- 
 ness if we can." 
 
 " Well, of course," he said, reflecting, " one 
 would not do a wicked thing in order to be happy. 
 I wouldn't steal a purse, if I wanted money ever 
 so much, in order to get it."
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 87 
 
 
 " Oh ! wouldn't you ? " she replied, laughing. 
 
 " How good you are ! And is that all ? " 
 
 " What do you mean by all ? " 
 
 " Why, if you got money by stealing a purse, it 
 would not make you happy, I fancy, because you 
 have been brought up as a gentleman." 
 
 " Well, no ; I suppose it wouldn't ; but I don't 
 follow you." 
 
 " Oh !" she said, "we must be good and feet nobly 
 about everything before we think of being happy, 
 mustn't we ? And it sounded odd when you spoke 
 of making your own life, and then merely said you 
 would be happy. But, of course, you didn't mean 
 it," she added, simply, " and it was stupid of me if I 
 looked disappointed." 
 
 His countenance had become very grave. 
 
 " It would be easy for anyone to be good and noble 
 who who lived with you," he cried. 
 
 " Why ? " she asked, very innocently. 
 
 " Oh ! " he said, with a sort of impatience, " some 
 women are angels to lead us right, while others are 
 " Then he stopped with a sound that resem- 
 bled a groan more than anything else. 
 
 " We all have our angels," she answered, smiling. 
 
 What more might have been said I don't know ;
 
 88 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 but as Miranda uttered the word " angels," the clock 
 on the mantel-piece struck, and then struck five 
 times more six in all and she gave a great start. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " I must go home." 
 
 " Will you disappear as you did when we parted 
 last," he said. " Will you not let me see you home ? 
 Is your carriage there ? Was it to be really like 
 Cinderella that you disappeared in that cruel way ; 
 and you did not even leave me the slipper." 
 
 " You forget that I had boots on," she answered, 
 laughing joyously. 
 
 " Boots ! oh yes, boots ! " he cried ; " and isn't it 
 always so ? Isn't it just the difference between boots 
 or slippers that makes or mars a man's life ? " 
 
 It was now her turn to be surprised at his sayings. 
 
 " But how ?' ' she asked. 
 
 " Why thus. I will take an example : I could 
 not find you because you did not leave me a slipper ; 
 you did not leave me a slipper because, by mere 
 chance, you wore boots ; and by these chances and 
 trifles lives are lost." 
 
 He spoke seriously ; but she only laughed. 
 
 " And so," she said, " everything is a mere chance, 
 and yet you speak of making your own life ! " 
 
 " True," he answered ; " but how can I help it ?
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 89 
 
 If the chances are all straight against him, what is 
 a man to do ? " 
 
 " I don't believe in chances," she cried, brightly. 
 "When you spoke of boots or slippers making or 
 marring a life, I thought it was because boots meant 
 work, and slippers sloth." 
 
 " Thank you," he cried, eagerly ; " you have given 
 me the key-note. There is hope in that. Yes ; I will 
 work. I will use every means to bring about my end." 
 
 " But you must wear thicker boots than those, " 
 she cried, glancing archly at his feet, " if the work 
 is at all difficult." 
 
 " I will wear seven-leagued boots if necessary." 
 
 " Ah ! there it is ; you can't do your work your- 
 self, and you give in at once, and call upon the 
 giants to help you."' And she shook her head at 
 him in the prettiest way possible. 
 
 The man of the world had never felt as he did 
 now. I suppose his heart was in the right place 
 after all, for it answered at once with delight to na- 
 ture and goodness. He boldly recognized to him- 
 self that he was in love. And when Miranda stood 
 there, smiling and shaking her head at him, he said 
 over and over again, in his own mind, " You shall be 
 my wife."
 
 9 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Suddenly she held out her hand with a sweet, 
 sorrowful face. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said ; " I must go." 
 
 And she was gone, ere his fingers had done more 
 than touch hers, disappearing through a door into 
 an inner room, not by the one that opened on to 
 the public stair, and by which he had entered.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 
 
 MIRANDA almost ran home. Her heart 
 reproached her for having idled away too 
 much time, and staying too long from Sophy. 
 
 " Conversation is such a delicious thing," she 
 said to herself, " that while one is conversing time 
 flies, and one forgets that it is not going at its usual 
 jog-trot pace." 
 
 But I do not think there was any jog-trot in 
 Miranda's life. There never is in youth, though 
 youth is not always aware of its own privileges, and 
 sometimes imagines that its lovely monotony is jog- 
 trot. 
 
 She was in such haste to return, and entered her 
 home so quickly, that in the passage she almost ran 
 into the arms of a man with a big, bushy black 
 beard, who was about to leave it with equal rapidity. 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried he ; "I beg pardon. Oh, is it
 
 9 2 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S U'EDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 you ? You are the young lady in the back parlor, 
 ain't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the almost breathless reply. 
 
 " Then you are the very person I want to see/' 
 
 She looked at him, and colored brightly ; while 
 her heart beat fast. 
 
 " Are you the first floor ? " she said, timidly ; for 
 in truth she felt extremely frightened. She be- 
 lieved he had recognized her. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " and I am the first floor only 
 because you are the back parlor. I saw you be- 
 fore." 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " I could not help it ; let me 
 pass, please." 
 
 And she tried to pass him. But his rather stout, 
 thick-set figure filled up the breadth of the passage 
 too completely to leave room on either side of him 
 even for slight Miranda to slip by. 
 
 " I saw you in church last Sunday fortnight, and 
 I followed you, and you came in here, and so I took 
 lodgings here." 
 
 Then Miranda recovered her self-possession in a 
 moment, and fixed her eyes on him in innocent 
 reproof. 
 
 " You were extremely foolish then," she said, her
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 93 
 
 young voice bright and clear as a bell ; " and you 
 have no right to tell me so or to speak to me at all. 
 Please let me pass." 
 
 " Stop a moment," he cried. " I am an artist. I 
 am painting a picture. I wanted a face a par- 
 ticular sort of face. I had been looking for it for 
 weeks, and at last I found it in church. It's you." 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon ! " cried she ; " is that all ! 
 I really thought you meant a compliment, and that 
 would have been so impertinent, you know." 
 
 " It's not an impertinent compliment," he an- 
 swered, " only an artistic one. I'm thinking of my 
 work, not of you." 
 
 She laughed. " Oh yes," she said ; " I don't mind 
 that at all." 
 
 " And will you sit to me ?" 
 
 " I can't really. I've not time ; and I don't know 
 you. I could not sit to you." 
 
 " Oh ! if that's all. If it's the want of an intro- 
 duction, I'll soon set that right. Mrs. Green ! Mrs. 
 Green !" 
 
 And he ran to the top of the back stairs and shout- 
 ed down them. The worthy landlady appeared at 
 the top of them before Miranda, in her surprise, 
 had thought of going away.
 
 9 4 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Mrs. Green, will you introduce me to this young 
 lady ? " 
 
 " Well really, Mr. Gaunt, I don't know. Why 
 should I ? " said she, panting. " Dear heart, sir ! I 
 thought you'd see'd another ghost ! " 
 
 " I'm painting a picture, Mrs. Green, that will 
 make me immortal. I'm stopped for want of a face, 
 and there it is. Won't you be a good woman, and 
 introduce me to it, and come with it into my room 
 while I just make a little, little sketch of it ?'' 
 
 " A picture, sir ? Well, Miss Miranda would 
 make a pretty picture, to be sure. I can't see why 
 she shouldn't. Miss Miranda, my dear, this gent is 
 the first floor, and I'd the best of references with him, 
 as I always do. Mr. Gaunt, Miss Miranda Maxwell." 
 
 And the worthy woman made signals of introduc- 
 tion far more rational than those used in society. 
 
 " Well, I am blessed ! " said the artist ; " Miranda 
 too! Who would who could have thought it? 
 Then I must be a witch ! Why, it's as Miranda I 
 want to take you. Isn't such a coincidence as that 
 enough to strike a man all of a heap ? Darwin's 
 development is nothing to it nothing at all." 
 
 " Miranda ? " cried she, blushing and smiling ; 
 " oh no, I'm not half pretty enough for Miranda."
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 95 
 
 " I'll be hanged, " was the reply, " if you're not 
 pretty enough for anything. Beg pardon ; I didn't 
 mean it. I'm respectful ; I'm per-fect-ly respectful ; 
 only somehow the words came of themselves they 
 did indeed. But I'm per-fect-ly respectful didn't 
 mean it only, you see, I'm trembling with im- 
 patience to begin. Good gracious ! it is such a 
 chance ; it mightn't occur in a man's lifetime again 
 it mightn't indeed." 
 
 "But my sister is ill, and I must go to her 
 directly." 
 
 " Bless your heart, Miss Miranda," put in Mrs. 
 Green, " she's fast asleep ; it's all she can do, poor 
 soul, except eat, and she does both wonderful. I 
 gave her a cup of the best beef tea, that I'd made 
 myself, and she just swollered it, she did; and then 
 off she was asleep again ; and it's all she wants my 
 dear sleep and slops slops and sleep ; she's tired 
 out, and she's coming to on sleep and slops as a 
 rational crittur should." 
 
 So Miranda, to her own surprise, accompanied the 
 first floor (being in her turn accompanied by their 
 landlady) into his room, and scarcely half-an-hour 
 after she had parted from Lady Gregory's nephew, 
 at Madame La Gai's, found herself sitting for her
 
 96 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 portrait to the man to whom she had before this 
 appeared as a ghost. 
 
 It was only a little sketch he wanted to take, which 
 he could then introduce into his picture ; and if he 
 nursed in secret any bolder design of making her sit 
 to him by-and-by, in his studio, he did not at this 
 time give a hint of it to any one, appearing per- 
 fectly content with the concession she had already 
 made. 
 
 Mrs. Green knitted away at the stocking she 
 always had on hand, and made an admirable chap- 
 erone. 
 
 Miranda was not at all inclined to be silent. She 
 was always amused, and she had friendly feelings 
 for everyone who had not given her unmistakable 
 cause for the reverse. 
 
 " How pleasant it must be to paint ! " said she, 
 brightly. 
 
 " It's pleasanter than pleasant," was the cheery 
 reply. 
 
 " Now I should like to earn my living that sort of 
 way," continued she ; " then work must be a delight. 
 Fancy the work one has to do being nice in itself ! 
 You must look forward to your morning's work when 
 you go to bed at night."
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 97 
 
 " Of course I do," replied he. " Why not ? Is 
 that anything wonderful ? " 
 
 " I should think so ! " said she. " We only feel at 
 night, ' Oh ! that day's work is over ; ' and we don't 
 think about the beginning again next day at all, or 
 we could hardly enjoy the leaving off at night." 
 
 " Why what is your work ? " said he, looking at 
 her with some interest. 
 
 " Sewing," replied Miranda, laconically. She 
 thought the one word expressed the life without 
 any amplification. 
 
 " Sewing ! " echoed he, without an atom of pity in 
 his voice ; "why, that's woman's painting." 
 
 " No indeed," said she, scornfully ; " why woman's 
 painting, if tailoring is not man's ? " 
 
 " Hullo! what's that ? " cried the artist. 
 
 " Why, women can paint, can't they ? and men 
 can sew, or what would they do for coats ? Women's 
 painting ! Think of Rosa Bonheur ! It's that sort 
 of talking that drives women into standing up for 
 their rights; and so becoming even more silly than 
 the men who make them do it ! '' 
 
 " I beg your pardon humbly," said he ; I didn't 
 mean any harm. I didn't want to rile you. Turn 
 
 your chin up a little. Don't look angry please ; and 
 
 7
 
 9 8 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 keep your eyelids steady half way down. There, 
 that'll do. Now talk as much as you like. What's 
 it all about? Oh ! you paint, do you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't paint/' said she smiling ; "and I don't 
 know why I talked so. But I was thinking couldn't 
 one earn money by music as well as painting ? " 
 
 " I should think so, rather, that one could jollily. 
 Look at Sims Reeves and old Mario." 
 
 " But I'm speaking 'about women." 
 
 " Very well speak of women bless 'em." 
 
 " I have sung all my life, and to-day I've learned 
 I sing well, and I hadn't a notion of it before. 
 Now do you think I could earn my livelihood by 
 singing ? " 
 
 " Sing ! " cried he, suddenly interested. " Oh ! 
 you sing, do you ? Of course you do ; what an ass 
 I was not to think of it. It's just the thing of 
 course it is. Now you see your face is changing 
 every minute, and so I can't catch the expression I 
 want ; but singing will do it that'll keep it steady. 
 I know just how you must look when you're sing- 
 ing ; and it's just your singing look that I want. 
 Please, sing a song directly." 
 
 " I don't think I can," said Miranda, suddenly 
 turning shy.
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 99 
 
 " Oh, please, do. Don't think about it ; begin all 
 of a heap. Why not ? Mrs. Green, won't you make 
 the young lady sing ? She must, really. I can't 
 get on at all without it. I can't indeed." 
 
 " Do sing one of them pretty things, Miss Mi- 
 randa, my dear," said Mrs. Green. " Many a time 
 I've stood on the stairs to hear you sing about the 
 green in the sky. Do, my dear." 
 
 " The green in my eye ! " said the artist, -rrever- 
 ently, but in a very low voice. 
 
 " Sing about the green in the sky. Do now, Miss 
 Miranda," urged the landlady. 
 
 " You'll find it much easier to sit singing," said 
 the artist, very much as if he was coaxing a hen. 
 
 " Oh, well ; it's not worth refusing," said Miranda ; 
 and so she sang 
 
 " IT IS ONLY. 
 
 " There are lakes in the sky 
 
 Of a delicate green ; 
 Had I wings, I would fly . 
 
 Where no mortal hath been. 
 It is only at sunset 
 
 Those lakes can be seen. 
 
 " There are forms in the fire, 
 
 There is many a face ; 
 In my heart I aspire
 
 ioo MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 To their tremulous grace. 
 It is only by twilight 
 Their wonders I trace. 
 
 " There are lights through the trees 
 
 o o 
 
 On the glittering ground ; 
 And they sway with the breeze, 
 
 Keeping time to its sound. 
 It is only 'mid shadows 
 
 Such lights can be found. 
 
 "There are joys, deep and true, 
 Time can bring us alone ; 
 
 When the morning is new 
 They are far and unknown. 
 
 It is only through sorrow 
 Such joys are our own." 
 
 She stopped there, and Mr. Gaunt, who had been 
 sketching vigorously all the time, with his eyes now 
 fixed on her, now turned to his paper gave a deep 
 sigh as she did so. He bent over his work without 
 a glance or a thought for the original. His soul 
 seemed in his face, looking with desperate eagerness 
 for the soul in the face before him. 
 
 "I've done it!" he cried; "it's perfect! Music 
 for ever ! Oh ! that blessed song ! I knew it 
 would." 
 
 Then he bejran to remember the living Miranda.
 
 THE FIRS T FLOOR. i o I 
 
 He gave her an odd look and smile, and beckoned 
 to her to approach him. 
 
 " Come," he said, " and see yourself it's only fair 
 that you should see yourself." 
 
 " I shan't like it, I know," said she ; and she went 
 across the room and peeped over his shoulder. He 
 was writing on the paper beneath the drawing. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " I am not pretty like that. I 
 wish I was. How could you make such a sweet 
 thing out of me, I wonder ?" 
 
 " Djd you ever see yourself sing ? " asked he, with 
 a droll, quaint look. 
 
 " Well, no, of course, I never did. How could I ? " 
 
 " Ah ! but that's just it that's how you look 
 while you're singing it is indeed." 
 
 " In that case," cried she, laughing and blushing, 
 " I had better always sing." 
 
 " Upon my life," answered he, " I quite agree 
 with you." 
 
 " I shall read the ' Tempest ' over again directly," 
 said Miranda. 
 
 " Have you got it ? " asked he, surprised. 
 
 " Oh yes," she replied ; " we kept a few books. 
 We could not part with Shakespeare, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! " he said, glancing rather inquiringly from
 
 I0 2 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 her to Mrs. Green and back again ; " I think I see." 
 Then he added briskly, " If you want to earn your 
 livelihood by singing, I believe you could do it." 
 
 " Could I ? " 
 
 "Yes, I think so ; but I'm not sure. I'd like a 
 better judge than I am to hear you. I think you 
 might teach, and I think you might produce a great 
 effect at London parties. I shouldn't like you to 
 sing at concerts. But those two are safe branches, 
 and I think you could do pretty well in both." 
 
 " I'm afraid I couldn't teach," said she ; " I don't 
 sing scientifically enough. But I might teach play- 
 ing perhaps." 
 
 She expressed no surprise because she felt 
 none at the interest in her he evinced, by say- 
 ing he should not like her to sing at concerts. 
 It seemed quite natural to her that everybody 
 should feel a kindly interest in everybody else. 
 She cared for all her fellow-creatures, and the 
 feelings her fresh beauty and charming ways ex- 
 cited in those she came in contact with she set 
 down unhesitatingly to a necessary and universal 
 philanthropy. 
 
 Mrs. Green regarded the drawing very approving- 
 ly. She screwed up her eyes to see it from a little
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. ! 03 
 
 distance, and put on her spectacles to do full honor 
 to a nearer view. What she beheld was this : 
 
 A slight pencil sketch of a young girl, standing 
 on the sea-shore, with innocent, wide-opened eyes 
 looking forward, and a face all alight with a sort of 
 joyful surprise. Under it was written the words 
 
 " My prime request 
 
 Which I do last pronounce is Oh ! you wonder 
 If you be made or no ? " 
 
 " Dear heart," said Mrs. Green, " it's a nice scrawl, 
 but it's only a scrawl; and, Lor' ! what nonsense the 
 words are. Prime ! well, to be sure, it makes one 
 think of mutton. Won't you do her in paint, sir ? " 
 she added, anxiously. 
 
 " Oh yes," he said, laughing, " I shall certainly do 
 her in paint. This is only just the sketch of the 
 figure to be introduced into my picture my great 
 picture, Mrs. Green, which is to make me immortal. 
 Some day soon I shall ask you to bring the young 
 lady to my studio, as I shall want one, or perhaps 
 two, sittings from her just for finishing all up ; and 
 then Til show it to you, and all my other great 
 pictures too." 
 
 " That will be delightful," cried Miranda, with the
 
 I04 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 glee of a child who finds herself being promised an 
 unexpected treat. 
 
 " Did you really come off a desert island, I 
 wonder ? " said he, looking at her with his droll, but 
 kindly smile. 
 
 " My back room is a desert island," she answered, 
 laughing, " and everything beyond it seems new and 
 charming.'' 
 
 " And now, miss," said her chaperone, " I must go 
 back to my kitchen. Nancy is that stupid she never 
 can dish up properly without me, and the front parlor 
 is awful particklar about their dinners. I'd rather 
 send you or the first floor (with a little sign at Mr. 
 Gaunt) up fifty dinners than them Jones's one." 
 
 " And I thought to go to poor Sophy," said 
 Miranda ; " if she's awake, she'll want me ; and," 
 sighing, " I've got a mantle to trim." Then she 
 turned to Mr. Gaunt, and said warmly and earnestly, 
 " Good-bye ; thank you so very much." 
 
 " But what for ? " he cried briskly, and with 
 amusement ; " it's you have been doing me the 
 favor, isn't it ? not I you." 
 
 " Why, so it is," cried she, laughing ; " but I had 
 quite forgotten that, because it has been so very 
 delightful."
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. IC >5 
 
 And so saying, she tripped lightly out of the 
 room, followed by Mrs. Green, who, however, first 
 performed a voluminous curtsey, and took a respect- 
 ful leave of her first floor. 
 
 " That's a very nice party, Miss Miranda," she 
 remarked as they went down stairs together, " and 
 a thorough gent ; and if he do choose to see a ghost 
 now and then, in a small way, I almost think I'll 
 make no objections." 
 
 " That will be very wise of you, I'm sure, Mrs. 
 Green." 
 
 " You see, miss, it wasn't a noisy ghost, and it 
 wasn't a nasty ghost. I can't abide 'em when 
 they're noisy or nasty ; and there's no call why I 
 should. But it had no blood about it leastways 
 he did not say so and it didn't rattle chains ; it 
 seemed a quiet, innocent sort, and maybe it's best 
 not to be over particklar, Miss Miranda." 
 
 " I quite agree with you ; I think it was one of 
 the most harmless ghosts I ever heard of in my 
 life." 
 
 " No, really ; was it now, miss ? Well, I'm glad 
 you think so too. And I like that first floor uncom- 
 mon I do indeed a gent like that is so little 
 trouble. I'd rather let my house to 'em all through
 
 I0 6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 than to them Jones's. And he's paid me his week 
 reg'lar as clock-work, and given me a pound to keep 
 in hand for things wanted. I like that first floor 
 uncommon, Miss Miranda ; I do indeed." 
 
 Then Miranda took her work, and stitched busily 
 late into the night by the bedside of her sleeping 
 sister. She felt as if she had been wasting her 
 time dreadfully ; the whole afternoon had been 
 spent in amusement. To be sure, Madame La Gai 
 always gave something for the hours employed at 
 her house, and if few customers had come in, it was 
 not Miranda's fault ; still she felt like a truant from 
 school, and that it was her duty now to make up as 
 well as she could for lost time. Sophy slept heavily, 
 and Miranda worked on till one o'clock struck, and 
 she found her thoughts getting confused, and her 
 little head nodding wearily down on to her hands. 
 
 The next morning she awoke quite refreshed. 
 She was so young and strong, and had such a young, 
 strong spirit within her, that after a few hours'- sleep, 
 she always rose as gay as a lark. Her first waking 
 thought was, to her, a very unusual one Will any- 
 thing pleasant happen to-day ? " But if it doesn't," 
 she said to herself, " I should be most ungrateful to 
 mind ; I must not let pleasure spoil me ; I must
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. 107 
 
 remember all poor papa said when I was such a 
 silly that I cried because it rained and I couldn't go 
 to the pic-nic. If we regret pleasures, and want 
 them when they don't come, we turn them into pains 
 and that is very foolish, as well as very ungrateful. 
 I remember when Sophy was so vexed because it 
 was a bad year for roses, and she kept mourning 
 over it, and going on about how splendid they had 
 been the summer before, till papa said she was mak- 
 ing a past joy into a present grief, and that it would 
 have been better to hear her talk if the roses 
 had not given us such a splendid harvest last June. 
 The beautiful roses ; I ran out into the garden and 
 kissed them, and begged their pardon for all Sophy 
 had said, the dears! Oh! I do think a bunch of 
 roses would cure Sophy now poor, poor Sophy ! 
 I know what I'll do," cried she aloud, with a sudden 
 blush of vivid delight ; " I'll go without my dinner ; 
 I'll just eat a nice large hunch of dry bread when I 
 get too hungry, and then, with the money I've not 
 spent, I'll slip out of the house, and I'll run away 
 off to some flower-place, and I'll buy a beautiful big 
 bunch of roses a great cluster of roses all sweet 
 and fresh and lovely and bring them in to Sophy. 
 Oh ! how delicious ! who was afraid that there
 
 I0 8 AfISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 would be no new pleasure to-day ? " She laughed 
 a little at that ; and then she knelt down, and said 
 her prayers very reverently, but with a smile on 
 her face all the time. 
 
 Sophy opened her eyes, and spoke low and in a 
 confused way. At last Miranda made out that she 
 was telling her she was better. " Only," she said, 
 "I have an odd heaviness in my limbs, I can't move 
 them, and my thoughts seem to come slower than 
 ever, and papa used to call me his dear old slow 
 coach even then." Here she gave a faint, sickly 
 smile, more unlike than a frown would have been, 
 to the smile that lighted up Miranda's fair face and 
 danced in her innocent eyes. 
 
 She ran up to her and kissed her several times ; 
 thinking of the rose-cure all the while, and so de- 
 lighted about it she hardly knew what to do. 
 
 " Never mind, Sissy," she cried, " it's only that 
 you're tired. Mrs. Green said so. You're just to 
 go on eating and sleeping till you're quite well. And 
 you arc better, for you've not said so many words to 
 me before for these two days, you dear old thing." 
 Here she kissed her again, and Sophy stared at her, 
 and shut her eyes, and fell once more into a heavy 
 sleep.
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. xog 
 
 Miranda spent all that morning working hard. 
 About three o'clock she got " too hungry," and ate 
 her " nice large hunch of dry bread," which, with 
 the prospect of the cluster of roses before her, 
 seemed to her perfectly delicious. 
 
 " Hunger is the best sauce," said she ; " I had no 
 idea how nice dry bread was before." 
 
 Ah ! Miranda, your kind, tender thoughts were a 
 sweeter sauce than hunger. How pretty and how 
 good you looked in that dingy little room, eating 
 your bit of dry bread, and thinking of Sophy and 
 her roses ! The poor sick woman had taken some 
 tea and a morsel of toast for her dinner, and was 
 once more asleep. Mrs. Green was beginning to feel 
 uneasy about her, and to fear there must be some- 
 thing more than merely being " tired out " in a state 
 like hers, continuing so long ; but Miranda was too 
 inexperienced to feel the least anxiety ; besides, 
 were there not the roses ? the rose-cure had not 
 been tried yet ; who could resist that ? certainly not 
 her Sophy. 
 
 And so with half-a-crown in her hand, she went 
 out to hunt for roses as happy as a queen alas ! 
 happier than our good Queen can ever be again. 
 Let us hope that fortune may deal more kindly with
 
 IIO MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 my Miranda, and that in the far-off time she may not 
 look back to these days of poverty and privation as 
 among the happiest in her life. 
 
 She found her roses, and triumphantly made her 
 purchase red, pink, white, almost lilac, buff, yel- 
 low, every shade but blue. Have we not, all of us, 
 at some time or other, wished for blue roses ? Not 
 so Miranda. 'She caressed the beautiful creatures 
 with tender, timid touch, as she took them from the 
 hands of the befrizzled and bechignoned and be- 
 everything-that-is-ugly-and-ungraceful young lady 
 who stood behind the counter. 
 
 " How glad I am there are no blue roses, " said 
 she, softly ; " they would be so unnatural." 
 
 "Blue roses ! " cried the girl, astonished. " Lawk- 
 a-mercy ! I wish there were ; wouldn't they sell ? 
 rather." 
 
 Miranda shrank back as if she had been hurt. 
 Then she looked at the young lady with pitying 
 eyes. 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said she to herself. " I wouldn't 
 like to sell flowers ; I think it must harden the 
 heart." 
 
 When she had nearly reached home, Mr. Gaunt 
 crossed the street and joined her.
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. j 1 1 
 
 " Miranda, with her hands full of roses ! " cried he. 
 " Beg pardon, I'm not calling you by your Christian 
 name, you know, only by hers ; I'm perfectly re- 
 spectful." 
 
 " Yes," she said, smiling ; " I know. But are they 
 not beautiful ? They are for poor Sophy she is so 
 ill. Do you think they will do her good ? They 
 must, mustnt they ? " 
 
 She spoke so earnestly that I am obliged to have 
 the words put in italics. 
 
 " Flowers are very pleasant when you're ill," said 
 he ; and that dreamy look came into his eyes, with 
 which one recalls some almost forgotten time, 
 scattered moments of which float pleasantly back 
 into the taxed memory. " Is Sophy very ill ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Green thinks she's just tired out. She is 
 always asleep, except when she is taking a little 
 broth or tea, and she can't move, and says her 
 thoughts are so slow ; but for two days I don't think 
 she had any thoughts, so she is better." 
 
 " I say," said he, " this won't do at all. Look here. 
 I was bred a doctor apprenticed and taught, and 
 walked the hospitals and everything but I liked 
 painting bones better than setting them ; though, in 
 my opinion, every artist should be bred a doctor it
 
 II2 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 teaches you no end of things, you see, that you find 
 of use when you get your brush on canvas. Now 
 Mrs. Green worthy old soul she is, by-the-bye, but 
 why so fat? Why do worthy old souls, as a general 
 rule, get so very fat ? However, fat or thin and it's 
 not of the least consequence which she has told me 
 all about you ; and I don't wish Miss Sophy to be 
 ill ; and I'm afraid she will be very ill, if you don't 
 take care. Will you let me see her ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; I suppose so," said Miranda 
 surprised, and beginning to take alarm, oh happy, 
 unanxious youth ; " it is very kind of you, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " You look so uncommonly kind yourself," said 
 Mr. Gaunt, " that you make other people the same ; 
 not that it's much out of the way to try to set a 
 sick woman on her legs again." 
 
 " She is so fond of roses," said Miranda, confi- 
 dentially, " that I think they must do her good." 
 
 By this time they had reached the house, and 
 Miranda called Mrs. Green up from the kitchen. 
 Some instinct made her feel, without an instant's 
 reflection, that this was a more comfortable proceed- 
 ing than taking the artist-doctor to Sophy herself, 
 and alone.
 
 THE FIRST FLOOR. H 3 
 
 "He has walked the hospitals and done every< 
 thing all right everything that makes a man 
 medical, you know," she explained ; " and he thinks 
 if we don't take care, Sophy will be really very ill ; 
 and he wants to see her. He may, mayn't he, Mrs. 
 Green ? It is very kind of him, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Well, to be sure, I am glad," said the fat and 
 worthy one ; " I was just wishing for a doctor for 
 her. Not that there's anything much astray " 
 here she winked volumes, in the largest and clear- 
 est possible type, at Mr. Gaunt " but when people 
 is ill, it's always satisfactory like to have a man in 
 to look at them. I always did say so, Miss Miranda, 
 and I'm not agoing to go from it now ; no, miss, I'm 
 not." 
 
 With which apology for taking a doctor to Miss 
 Sophy, when it was not to be allowed that she was 
 really ill, Mrs. Green ascended the stairs as fast as 
 her breath would allow her, followed by Mr. Gaunt 
 and Miranda. 
 
 8
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 A DARKENED room, and a poor, weary, old- 
 ish-looking woman, lying breathing heavily 
 in a very shabby bed. That was all Mr. Gaunt 
 expected to find, but not all he found ; for his 
 expectations, unlike expectations in general, proved 
 less than the reality, and he did not feel at all sure 
 that there was not another presence near, waiting 
 (as that presence perhaps always is) to rush in and 
 seize its prey the first possible moment always 
 waiting, but always kept at bay by youth and 
 health. Alas ! there was neither health nor youth 
 here, so he felt that the presence might be drawing 
 very near indeed that presence which would bring 
 brightness and joy to the poor weary one, and 
 plunge the other girl, in all her brilliancy, into 
 sorrow and despair. 
 
 He felt his patient's pulse and her forehead, ex-
 
 SUNDA Y. j r - 
 
 
 
 amined her eyes, asked her a few questions, and 
 then gave an expressive look at Mrs. Green, who 
 winked folio volumes in large type in reply. He 
 said very little, and the two women said nothing, 
 but stood quietly by, Mrs. Green beginning to feel 
 a good deal frightened, and Miranda rejoicing in 
 her serene heart that poor Sophy would now be 
 made well again. After some time they all went 
 out on to the stairs, and then the doctor spoke. 
 
 "It is just this, you see," he said ; "her nerves 
 are clean gone, and so she's nothing but nerves." 
 " Oh dear ! " cried Miranda, " how very odd ! " 
 " Nerves are odd," he replied, sharply ; " she's in 
 a low nervous state, and she must be got out of it." 
 And he frowned at Miranda as if she was contra- 
 dicting him. " I'll send some medicine ; give her 
 oceans of beef tea at short intervals," to Mrs. 
 Green, "and bushels of eggs, and a glass of my 
 medicine at twelve and at four every day. It looks 
 like senna," he cried, fiercely fixing his eyes with a 
 stare of defiance on Miranda, "but it's not senna.'' 
 Then he added in a whisper to Mrs. Green, "if it 
 tastes too much like good old port, put some ginger 
 or some asafcetida into it ; but make her take it 
 anyhow."
 
 n6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Bless your heart, sir," replied Mrs. Green aloud, 
 " for the best of gents, be the other who he may." 
 
 The three separated on the first floor, Mrs. Green 
 going down t6 her kitchen, and Miranda returning 
 to her sister's room, to work there by her bedside, 
 but first to give her the roses, and ask her, with 
 many kisses, if she did not think the beautiful, 
 bright flowers would really make her well. 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Sophy, with a vague, foolish 
 smile. 
 
 " You are so fond of roses ; you know you are," 
 cried Miranda, quite appealingly. 
 
 "They are so pretty," said Sophy, in the same 
 meaningless way ; " and all these came from my 
 grave." 
 
 "From where?''' cried the other, almost in a 
 scream. 
 
 " Didn't they ? " said Sophy, still with the foolish 
 smile on her face ; " I thought I saw them." 
 
 " But where did you say ? " urged Miranda, en- 
 treatingly. 
 
 Sophy kept smiling at her in the same way, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " Dear Sophy," cried Miranda, " I didn't hear 
 what you really said ; but never mind, I won't tease
 
 SUNDAY. II7 
 
 you. There is such a quantity I've got to tell you 
 if you'd like to hear it. Do you think you would ? " 
 
 " Oh yes/' said Sophy, with vague placidity. 
 
 " Such a quantity ! " repeated Miranda ; " things 
 have been happening, and things used never to 
 happen. First and foremost, what do you think ? 
 I went to a ball next door in Miss Hitchcock's wed- 
 ding dress ! " And she looked full in her sister's 
 face, and spoke with the air of a person who intend-, 
 ed to cause a great deal of astonishment. 
 
 But Sophy remained quite unruffled. 
 
 ' Oh yes," was all she said, and in just the same 
 voice and manner as she had uttered the other " Oh 
 yes." 
 
 " What ! you knew it ? " cried Miranda, amazed 
 in her turn. " Oh, you sly thing oh, you dear old 
 sly thing ! " and she kissed her again. Miranda 
 was very fond of kissing Sophy. " So you knew 
 it all the time ! And I danced ; oh ! Sophy, I 
 danced ; it was delicious." 
 
 " I danced too," said Sophy, "with George." 
 
 " Ah ! poor Sophy, yes, you did, long ago ; but 
 don't think about that now. I want to amuse you. 
 Listen to all I have got to tell. I danced with 
 Lady Gregory's nephew, and he's delightful. I met
 
 n8 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 him again to-day at Madame La Gai's ; and we 
 have long conversations. What a charming thing 
 conversation is ! I'd no idea it was ever anything 
 like that. Sometimes it might almost be better 
 than even dancing. And then only think, ladies 
 came in, and they made me sing, and they said I 
 was a soprano, and a beauty ; and I believe, perhaps, 
 I'm going to sing at their charade party. There 
 was a very nice girl, a little vulgar ; but ladies are 
 just a little vulgar,, aren't they, Sophy! " 
 
 Miranda paused for a reply, and found that Sophy 
 was fast asleep, with the foolish smile still lingering 
 on her face. 
 
 Mrs. Green strictly obeyed all the artist-doctor's 
 orders, and administered eggs, beef tea, and the 
 suspicious medicine which was not senna, and 
 was cautioned against tasting like good old port 
 at short intervals to her patient. The result of 
 this judicious treatment was, that by the following 
 morning the poor woman seemed better and 
 brighter, and the vague, wandering look had gone 
 out of her eyes. 
 
 The following morning was Sunday. Miranda 
 loved Sunday, and no cloistered nun ever said her 
 prayers with more intense devoutness than did that
 
 SUNDAY. n 9 
 
 innocent child, as week after week she knelt 
 reverently down in the crowded London church. 
 
 Dressed in her simple Sunday finery, with 
 her prayer-book in her hand, and her face as 
 fresh as a field flower, she tripped gayly down 
 the steps and along the street on the day in 
 question. Somebody saw her from his first floor 
 window, where he was contentedly smoking his 
 pipe ; and, drawn by the irresistible attractions of 
 youth, beauty, and goodness, somebody came 
 lumbering down the stairs and plunging out of 
 the door to join her ere she was half-way down 
 the street. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miranda ; not your name, you 
 know hers," said Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 " Oh ! is it you ? " said she, smiling, and frankly 
 giving him her hand ; " how do you do ? What a 
 delicious day ! Dont you love Sunday ? " 
 
 " H'm ! pretty well ; yes, of course ; uncommon. 
 It's a day of rest, you know." 
 
 " It's such a lovely plan," said Miranda, " and so 
 kind!" 
 
 " How much ?" asked the artist. " Beg pardon ; 
 but I don't follow. What is ? " 
 
 " Why, Sunday, to be sure," cried she ; " it is so
 
 120 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 kind to make it a duty rest and prayer ; and to 
 make them duties, when they might be onAy pleasures, 
 you know. Such lovely duties, to be bound to rest 
 and pray one day in every seven. Is it not a beau- 
 tiful thing?" 
 
 " What a good girl you are ! " was his only reply, 
 looking very kindly into her radiant face. 
 
 " Are you coming to my church ? " asked she, 
 smiling. 
 
 " I was going to mine." 
 
 " Which is that ? " 
 
 "Well, it's the fields, or anywhere I can get to 
 soonest out of the dirt and din." 
 
 " Oh ! you pray there ? " She looked a little serious. 
 
 " Did you ever try it ? " asked he, with a laugh. 
 
 " Instead of church ? " she said, still serious and 
 gently shaking her head. " Oh no ; I'm not good 
 enough ; that only does for quite holy people who 
 are sure of themselves. I want the church with its 
 walls to keep me safe. I couldn't trust myself quite 
 without it." 
 
 " If not you, who ? " said he laconically ; and his 
 words somehow sounded like the translation of an 
 Italian proverb, but I never heard of any proverb, 
 Italian or otherwise, the least like them. " Well,
 
 SUNDAY. I2I 
 
 I'm going to your church, then, to-day. May I go 
 with you ? " 
 
 She smiled her consent, and they walked on 
 together. 
 
 " Sophy is so much better," she said ; " and I 
 think it's all your doing. How can we ever thank 
 you enough ? " 
 
 " Lor' bless you ! it's nothing. I like doctoring 
 people. I've a hankering after the old trade yet; 
 it's the best going, but one. If I wasn't a painter, 
 I'd rather be a doctor than a king." 
 
 " It's the most useful of the two," said Miranda, 
 with decision. 
 
 " Which ? " said he ; " there's three mentioned. 
 Now, look here, a doctor's more useful than a king, 
 and an artist's more useful than a doctor." 
 
 " No, hardly that. I think you would have some 
 difficulty in proving that." 
 
 " Should I ? Difficulty be hanged ! Here goes. 
 Kings would die without doctors, and doctors 
 only make man fit to 'be painted ; moreover, the 
 works of doctors die in the bodies of men, 
 and by painters' works the bodies of men live 
 for ever." 
 
 Then he gave himself a great stretch and yawn,
 
 I22 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 and said, " Hullo ! what a lot x)f nonsense one does 
 talk to women, to be sure, poor souls." 
 
 By this time they had reached the church, and 
 were shown by the pew- opener into different seats. 
 
 As Miranda, on the completion of the service, 
 was leaving the building, she was surprised at being 
 accosted by a lady ; and she was more surprised, 
 when awakened, by being so accosted, from the 
 gentle reverie in which the act of prayer had left 
 her, to perceive that this lady was Miss Hitchcock. 
 Miss Hitchcock, looking as cross and brown as ever, 
 having arrayed herself by the directions surely of 
 some malicious imp who appeared always ready to 
 direct her taste to what was most unbecoming to 
 that cross, brown face in a pale blue dress, and a 
 tuft of blonde and forget-me-nots on the top of her 
 chignon, by way of a bonnet. 
 
 " Can you come to my house, Eaton Square, to- 
 morrow at three ? " asked she, in her pleasant voice. 
 " I have some instructions about that mantle I want 
 to give you. Madame La Gai has sent it to me, 
 and there is something not quite right about the fit." 
 
 " To your house ? " said Miranda ; " that would be 
 very nice." Then she added, seeing that Miss 
 Hitchcock was staring at her in haughty surprise.
 
 SUNDAY. 123 
 
 Oh ! I beg your pardon. How stupid I am ! Of 
 course I will come, if you wish it." 
 
 " Did you ever see the Miss Style they say you 
 are so like, and that you certainly are like ? " asked 
 the lady, not in the least relaxing her haughty stare. 
 
 Miranda blushed scarlet, and laughed nervously. 
 
 " I really don't know," she said. " I don't feel 
 quite sure whether they meant me or somebody 
 else." Then suddenly stopping, she blushed deeper 
 and laughed more, but this time it was a laugh of real 
 amusement. " What an idiot I am ! " said she. 
 
 " Masquerading is a very foolish thing," said Miss 
 Hitchcock. 
 
 " She knows ! " thought poor Miranda, and she 
 almost wondered how she survived the thought. 
 " What ? " she cried, faintly. 
 
 " Oh, never mind, " said Miss Hitchcock ; " per- 
 haps you understand me, and if you don't, there's 
 no harm done ; " and so, without another word, she 
 turned down the street and walked away. 
 
 " She must know," cried Miranda, almost wring- 
 ing her hands. There is nothing else she can mean. 
 Oh ! I never shall have courage to go to her never, 
 never." 
 
 And yet as the day went on the long, dull, city
 
 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIA'G DRESS. 
 
 Sunday, spent in Sophy's garret Miranda, found 
 her thoughts for ever turning to the coming mor- 
 row, and the visit to Miss Hitchcock, Eaton Square. 
 The little changes that had recently come into her 
 life made her long for more. She would not call 
 that life dull ; she would not allow herself to repine 
 or even to wish ; but when a variety was offered to 
 her, she grasped at it eagerly, and was most unwill- 
 ing to let it go. Thus she felt frightened to death 
 at Miss Hitchcock, and the thought that she had 
 found out that she had gone to that ball and worn 
 her wedding dress kept coming across her mind as 
 something almost too horrid to be true, and she told 
 herself over and over again that she never could 
 muster up courage to go to Eaton Square next day ; 
 and yet she really meant to go all the time, and had 
 anything happened to prevent her, it would have 
 been a cruel disappointment. 
 
 She read to herself and to Sophy, or chatted to 
 and fed the latter during all that long, dull Sunday 
 afternoon and evening ; but her thoughts wandered 
 continually to Miss Hitchcock and her wedding 
 dress. Suddenly Sophy called her up to her bed- 
 side, and said in a very quiet voice, " Who is that 
 sitting by the table, Miranda ? "
 
 SUNDAY. 125 
 
 " I was sitting there, dear." 
 
 " No, not you I know you. I mean the strange 
 lady. You've got a party, I see. My dear, you will 
 never be able to pay for all those candles ! " 
 
 " There is only one candle, dear Sophy, and nobody 
 in the world here but me. Oh ! what do you mean ! " 
 
 " There is a strange lady," said Sophy ; and she 
 tried to raise her head from the pillow, and tried to 
 bow towards the table in a ghastly sort of way, 
 which sent Miranda flying affrighted down stairs 
 not this time to Mrs. Green's kitchen, but to the 
 drawing-room on the first floor. 
 
 Two men were sitting smoking together at the 
 table, on which stood bottles and glasses. 
 
 " She is going mad ! " panted Miranda. " Oh ! 
 please, come directly. Don't wait a minute." 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried one of the men. 
 
 " Bless us and save us ! " said the other. 
 
 But both rose, and the one she knew advanced 
 towards her out of the smoke, leaving the other a 
 dim and demon-like figure within it. 
 
 " She says there is a strange lady at the table," 
 said Miranda ; " and she keeps bowing to her. Oh ! 
 don't let her bow to her please don't ; " and she 
 began to cry.
 
 I2 6 MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " I won't," said Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 His voice rang through the room, and there was 
 support and comfort in its strong, cheery sound that 
 went straight to Miranda's heart. She smiled amid 
 her tears, and taking hold of his great arm in her 
 two white little hands, led him away to the door he 
 looking down at her with a tender sort of expres- 
 sion, that beamed oddly, but not unbecomingly, from 
 under his shaggy eyebrows, and then glancing over 
 his shoulder at the dim form in the smoke. 
 
 " A co-lodger, Ned," said he, " with a sick sister. 
 I've turned sawbones again for the nonce." 
 
 " All right, old fellow," replied Ned. " You go 
 where glory waits you, and / '// finish the bottle a 
 fair field and no favor. What's the odds as long 
 as you're 'appy ! " and he waved his hand jauntily 
 through the smoke at Miranda. 
 
 But Miranda was not thinking of him or of Mr. 
 Gaunt, or of anyone but Sophy ; and with hurry 
 and alarm in her manner, and the tears still stream- 
 ing down her cheeks, she ran before her doctor back 
 into Sophy's room. 
 
 Sophy was sitting up in the bed, with a rather 
 frightened expression on her face. 
 
 " They have all gone away," she said, in a tone of
 
 SUNDAY. 127 
 
 complaint ; " it is very lonely. George might have 
 stayed ; " and then she moaned. 
 
 " Who is George ? " asked Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 Sophy gave a little laugh. 
 
 " My George," she said. 
 
 Was she thinking of a lover ? poor thing ! and 
 looking almost as unfit for love as the old woman in 
 the mine, who fell weeping on the neck of the 
 beautiful lad who had gone to sleep there fifty years 
 ago, and was found with the glory of his youth un- 
 dimmed by time that most pathetic story of death- 
 less love, when the two who had once been all the 
 world to each other, meeting at the end of a long 
 life, the one covered with wrinkles, and the other 
 without a line on his smooth face, fill us with won- 
 der as to how they will meet in heaven. 
 
 " Oh ! don't you mind about George," said Mr. 
 Gaunt, cheerfully. " He's safe enough, but he can't 
 come here till you're better, you know ; you're not 
 very well, you see, and all yoiive got to do is to get 
 well as fast as you can. Now do be a brick and get 
 well ; do, please, be .a brick." 
 
 Sophy had composed herself in the bed by this 
 time, and the excited look went out of her face. Mr. 
 Gaunt was mixing something in a glass while he
 
 128 MS-S-S HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS 
 
 was talking (he had given Mrs. Green a few simple 
 medicines for occasional use, and they were in the 
 room ready), which he presently, in a cool, matter- 
 of-fact way, handed to Sophy and bade her drink. 
 She instantly obeyed, and in five minutes more was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 " She'll do, bless her poor old heart," said he to 
 Miranda, after watching the calm slumber for a 
 short, silent time. " Who's George ? " 
 
 "Oh ! will she really do ?" cried she, clasping her 
 hands, and unconsciously repeating his words. " Oh ! 
 she isn't mad ! " 
 
 " Mad ! fiddlesticks it's just nerves and weak- 
 ness. She'll be much better to-morrow. I've given 
 her what will make her sleep as sound as a top. 
 Who's George ? " 
 
 Miranda blushed vividly. 
 
 " He was papa's curate," said she, in a slow, 
 hesitating manner. 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried Mr. Gaunt, looking at her keenly ; 
 " was he your George too ? " 
 
 " I was a child," said she with dignity. 
 
 " And Sophy/' cried he, " your sister ? " 
 
 " We all liked George ; he was a brother to us," 
 said frank Miranda, with sudden reticence, when
 
 SUNDAY. I2 9 
 
 maidenly modesty bade her guard poor Sophy's 
 secret. 
 
 " And nothing more to her ? " questioned he, quite 
 unabashed by her manner. 
 
 " Does he really think I will tell him of my sister's 
 lover ? " said she to herself, all aglow with indignation. 
 
 " He was papa's curate and our dear friend," was 
 her answer, given at once with spirit and reserve. 
 
 " Oh ! just as you like ; please yourself," replied 
 Mr. Gaunt, cavalierly ; " only it might just be the 
 saving of her to make him give her a call ; that's all. 
 But just as you like ; it's nothing to me." 
 
 " He is in India," said Miranda, and at the same 
 moment melted into tears. 
 
 " Oh ! come now, don't cry," said he, quite 
 mollified. " Of course I'm a brute I always am 
 when I'm tried only I didn't mean it ; don t you 
 cry there's a dear. If George is in India, he can't 
 call at No. 14 Denham Street, London, N.W. 
 George can't, and we must just cure Miss Sophy 
 without him, Only the other would have been the 
 easiest way ; that's all." 
 
 Miranda smiled through her tears. 
 
 " You're an out-and-out angel," said Mr. Gaunt. 
 " I'm never with you but I catch myself looking for
 
 130 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 the wings. I say, what do you think of such a 
 rough old codger as I am ? " 
 
 " I think you are very kind," said she laughing. 
 
 " No ; do you now ? " he cried, holding out his 
 hand to her. " Shake hands upon it then, and don't 
 let us misunderstand each other." 
 
 Her little, white hand instantly sought his, and 
 nestling down for a moment like a bird was lost to 
 sight in his great one. 
 
 " Such a paw as mine is ! " cried he, disgusted. 
 " Just look at yours," and he held it up for a moment 
 ere he let her resume it for her own. 
 
 " I can't help it," said she ; " and I don't wish it 
 to be like that one." 
 
 And she glanced at his, and laughed roguishly, 
 while she caressed her own rosy fingers. 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " cried he, and laughed too, with 
 a great, hearty haw, haw, haw ; then stopped abashed, 
 looked at Sophy, and said, " Don't." 
 
 " I didn't," said Miranda. 
 
 " Oh yes, but you did, though," said he ; " it was 
 your doing, you know. And you needn't mind ; she 
 won't wake easy she'll sleep hard." 
 
 " And now," said Miranda, " don't you think you'd 
 better go away ? "
 
 SUNDAY.. 131 
 
 She spoke coaxingly, and looked enchanting. 
 
 " Oh yes," said he, with a sort of good-natured 
 crossness ; "of course I had. I've been of no use, 
 and now I may go suck the orange and throw it 
 away, hey ? " 
 
 " Oh no," said f she, laughing ; " I hope the orange 
 will roll back again, and find Sophy better to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Good-night, and God bless you ! " said Mr. 
 Gaunt, fervently, and he was gone. 
 
 " How kind people are," thought Miranda ; " how 
 kind everybody is ; oh ! it is such a nice world ; " 
 and so she went to bed and slept as soundly as Sophy, 
 without a sleeping draught. 
 
 The next day Sophy was better. 
 
 Miranda worked hard all the morning, and then 
 ate her early solitary dinner. Her watch was too 
 fast, and she arrived at Eaton Square at a quarter 
 past two, instead of at three o'clock. The conse- 
 quence was that Miss Hitchcock had not returned 
 from a luncheon party at a friend's, and that Miss 
 Hitchcock's maid had taken the opportunity of her 
 mistress's absence to absent herself also ; and the 
 consequence of this was that the footman having 
 received no orders what to do with Miranda, and
 
 1 32 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 taking her for a young lady, showed her straight up 
 into the back drawing-room, where she found her- 
 self face to face and tete-a-tete with Lady Gregory's 
 nephew.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 THEY stared at each other. 
 " Is it possible ! " cried Miranda, in accents 
 of delight. 
 
 But if she was delighted, what was he ? He 
 looked, at first, as if he did not believe his eyes or 
 his senses. Then an expression of actual gratitude 
 rushed into his face, and then one of rapture. 
 
 " It is you ? " he cried, and took both her hands 
 in his, and gazed down at her fair face till it at first 
 raised so frankly to his was turned away, covered 
 with blushes. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then he 
 dropped her hands and spoke with an odd, forced 
 calmness. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, " I thought I had lost 
 you ? " 
 
 " But why ? " replied she, a little shyly. " Why, 
 did you not expect we should meet again ? "
 
 !34 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Why did you play me such tricks, then ? " 
 
 Then she began to laugh, but to blush at the same 
 time very bright. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " have you really found it out ? " 
 
 " Have I really found it out ? Of course I have," 
 replied he ; " how could I help finding it out ? I 
 dined at Mrs. Nesbit's on Thursday, as I told you 
 I would. Dull dinners she always gives, and nothing 
 could have induced me to enter the house, as I also 
 told you, except the idea of meeting you ; and then 
 the first thing I hear is, that you left her the morning 
 after my aunt's ball. Where are you staying?" 
 
 He spoke in the tone of a spoiled child, or shall 
 we say ? a " curled darling," who naturally resent- 
 ed the ruffling of a single rose-leaf under his feet. 
 
 " What did she tell you ? " was Miranda's only 
 reply. 
 
 "Well, I did not give you up till dinner was actu- 
 ally announced. Of course" in a tone of great 
 ill-usage " I had to take Mrs. Nesbit in, and then " 
 as if it was a still greater injury" I didn't even 
 know your name ; so after feeling about in the dark 
 a little, and gaining nothing by it, I asked boldly 
 what had become of the young lady she had taken 
 to the ball with her ? "
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 135 
 
 " And what did she say ? " 
 
 " Why, what could she say, but that you had left 
 her next morning ? " 
 
 "No! did she really?" 
 
 " Oh ! you had primed her with some stories, had 
 you ? she was in the great plot, was she ? Well, 
 then, let me warn you against her. She is a trai- 
 tor ; she answered me in the simplest manner, as if 
 I had asked her the merest everyday question ; and 
 when I ventured a step further, and inquired your 
 name, she told me it was " 
 
 " What ? " cried Miranda, breathless. 
 
 " Style." 
 
 Miranda looked at him with wide-opened eyes for 
 half-a-second, after which she made a slight move- 
 ment, as if she was then and there going to begin to 
 dance, but, instead thereof, sank into a chair, and 
 abandoned herself to a fit of laughter the sweetest, 
 the merriest, and the most inextinguishable that, it 
 appeared to Lady Gregory's nephew, he had ever 
 heard, 
 
 He could hardly resist joining in it himself, and 
 yet, somehow or other, this very laughter seemed an 
 injury to him. 
 
 " Have not you laughed enough ? " said he at last,
 
 I3 6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 discontentedly. " I am sure I have not the slightest 
 idea what there is to laugh at, at all." 
 
 " No," said she, " of course you have not ; that 
 is what makes it so amusing. Don't you see it 
 would be nothing without that f " 
 
 " Oh ! very well," he replied, " but it's rather 
 waste of time, isn't it ? We have just these few 
 minutes to be together, and you do nothing but 
 laugh. That woman will be here directly." 
 
 " What ! Mrs. Nesbit ? " cried Miranda, affrighted. 
 
 " No, no ! of course not , I mean Miss Hitchcock." 
 
 " Well, as it's her own house," said she, smiling, 
 " it's hard to speak of her in that voice for coming 
 into it, isn't it ? I think she has a right to do that" 
 
 "I don't know, " he replied. "There seems to 
 me, just at present, to be no rights, except those of 
 one soul over another." 
 
 "What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, this ; when two people meet but I'm 
 not sure whether it's wise to tell you." 
 
 " Oh yes ; it's wise to tell me anything." 
 
 " Is it ? I wish I was certain of that." 
 
 " Well, at all events, it's wise to tell me anything 
 I want to hear." 
 
 " I dare say," smiling and shaking his head at her.
 
 FRIENDSHIP. !37 
 
 " Well, then, the upshot of what I mean is, that two 
 people like you and me have a better right to talk 
 together than a woman has to come into a house 
 because it happens to be her own." 
 
 She puzzled a little over this, as if not quite catch- 
 ing his meaning, then she looked at him. How 
 handsome he was, and how much more than hand- 
 some ; such a distinguished air such refinement 
 and ease in every movement and gesture ; a self- 
 contained man, who was what he was independ- 
 ent of others, because he was really himself. What 
 an irresistible attraction she found in his careless, 
 almost scornful grace in the light that shone in 
 his eyes, and the smile that played about his mouth ; 
 a man who was one thing, till he spoke to her, and 
 then became another. Had she really some power 
 over him that others had not, and was that what he 
 meant ? What a delightful thing friendship was ? 
 But was it really possible that he and she were to be 
 friends ? 
 
 " You and me ? " she repeated, doubtfully ; " that 
 is to say, Mr. Gregory and Miss Style ? " 
 
 Now it was his turn to look a little puzzled, 
 especially at the soft, anxious expression in her 
 lovely eyes.
 
 I3 8 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " No, no," he cried earnestly, trying to follow 
 her thoughts, and watching her as he spoke " not 
 Mr. or Miss anything, but just the souls and bodies 
 that make us, whatever our stations in life or arbi- 
 trary names may be." 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, with a little happy sigh, " but that 
 would be true friendship." 
 
 " As true as steel," he cried, his face in a glow. 
 
 " And in such a little time," she said, looking 
 quite appealingly at him." 
 
 " Oh, don't fall into that mistake that conven- 
 tionalism," he cried ; " it is quite, quite unworthy of 
 you. Some people we know in five minutes, and 
 love in five minutes ; and others we could never 
 know and never love, not in five years, or in fifty- 
 five years, or five hundred years." 
 
 " That is quite true," she replied, with the sweet- 
 est smile of acquiescence. " I have often felt that, 
 in little ways before about people, but never like 
 this never half so much as now." 
 
 His heart beat fast as he heard her words, and the 
 color rushed to his face, but he restrained himself, 
 and scarcely dared let himself breathe, in his anxi- 
 ety to hide the delight they gave him. In her per- 
 fect unconsciousness, her innocence, and her sim-
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 139 
 
 plicity, he felt, lay his best chance ; to disturb that 
 too soon, was to throw down the foundations on 
 which he trusted to erect his castle, before he had 
 a hope of putting others in their place. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, after a little pause, in a 
 calm, sorrowful voice, " that I have had very few 
 friends in my life ? " 
 
 " Really ! " she answered, surprised. " But that 
 must have been your own doing, I suppose ; I could 
 fancy you care for very few people." 
 
 " I did not begin life so," he cried, eagerly ; " do 
 any of us ? I had my hopes, loves, enthusiasms, but 
 I was unfortunate ; in some things I was more unfor- 
 tunate than most of us are ; my father never 
 liked me." 
 
 " Your father your own father ? " she exclaimed, 
 in unbelieving tones. 
 
 " My own father," he answered, quietly ; " he 
 was not a good man." 
 
 " Oh ! how I pity you ! " she cried, her soft eyes 
 filling \vith tears, and looking at him as if she would 
 have done anything to comfort him ; "and mine was 
 the best man in the world ! Oh ! what could one do 
 under such a sorrow, you poor boy ! " Her mind 
 had gone into the past, and she was vividly imagining
 
 I4 o MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 him a boy with a bad father. " What did you 
 do ? " 
 
 He was thinking more of her than of himself. 
 Her delicious pity would have comforted him un- 
 der a worse affliction than the one which, per- 
 haps, he had never before alluded to, to any living 
 creature. 
 
 " I ran away," he replied, after feasting for a few 
 happy, silent seconds on her sweet compassion. 
 
 " You ran away ! " she cried, charmed with the 
 idea, and thinking to herself "What a hero you 
 are ; " and her eyes expressed the thought plainly 
 enough through their long lashes, though her tongue 
 did not speak. 
 
 " Yes," he said, with a far-away look in his eyes. 
 " What ages ago it seems ! Will the next eighteen 
 years contain a whole life, I wonder ? How strange 
 it is to me to think that / was that suffering boy ! 
 Eighteen years hence, shall I look back on the man 
 I am now with the same strange sensation of another 
 self?" 
 
 " Eighteen years hence ! *' cried Miranda. " Why, 
 I shall be nearly forty ! " 
 
 Whereat they both laughed, and I cannot say I 
 wonder at them. The idea of its being possible
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 141 
 
 that that lovely impersonation of youth should ever 
 be nearly forty did seem supremely ridiculous. 
 
 But Miranda felt as if she was horribly unfeeling 
 to laugh at such a moment. 
 
 " You ran away," she repeated. " Oh ! why did 
 you do it ? and where did you run to ? " 
 
 " I could not stay in the house," he replied, " I 
 cannot tell you why. I loved my dead mother. 
 Do you know, I think she was a little like you ? " 
 
 " Like me ! " 
 
 " At any rate, there is a picture of her hanging 
 in the great saloon taken when she was a girl, be- 
 fore she married that has a look of you ; it is the 
 loveliest picture I ever saw you know I never saw a 
 picture of you. How I have worshipped it when I 
 was a lad. Poor young mother ! she died too soon." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so sorry," cried Miranda. 
 
 " She brought me up well. I wish I remembered 
 better all her good teaching, for then I should be 
 fitter for " 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " Never mind for what I hope some day to 
 attain. Ask me a week hence, and I will tell you 
 I hope I will tell you a week hence." 
 
 " I shall certainly ask you."
 
 1 42 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Do, do ; and I hope I shall certainly tell you. 
 Do you think there is anything in the world I 
 should like better than to tell you now ? only I 
 don't dare." 
 
 "I can't think what you mean," replied Miranda. 
 " But may I tell you a little about my past life ? " 
 said he ; "I wish you to know it. The house was 
 full of wickedness, and I felt my dead mother's 
 memory insulted ; I felt that, though I was such a 
 boy I am glad I did ; and I was miserable, and I 
 couldn't bear it. Men can bear misery, boys can't." 
 " Oh ! it is so sad to be miserable," sighed Mi- 
 randa. 
 
 I suppose it was a very foolish remark, but it 
 sounded to him like the wisdom of an angel. 
 
 "And so I set off in the middle of a summer 
 night, and walked a couple of hundred miles, I 
 daresay day and night, night and day ; getting a 
 meal when or where I could, sleeping under a 
 hedge or on a door-step. Heigh-ho ! how long ago 
 it all seems ! " 
 
 " Well ? " she cried, breathless. 
 " Well, at last I reached a place in Wales, belong- 
 ing to my aunt Gregory, for I thought she might 
 take me in."
 
 FRIENDSHIP. I43 
 
 " Lady Gregory ! ? ' 
 
 " Yes, no less a person than Lady Gregory, in 
 whose ballroom we first met. What a figure I 
 was ? what a state I was in ! David Copperfield 
 was nothing to me when he appeared before Betsey 
 Trotwood. I have read that meeting, with thrills 
 that testified to its reality." 
 
 " Oh ! go on." 
 
 " I felt ashamed to present myself, and so I crept 
 into a barn, and, wrapped up in some straw, fell 
 asleep, if sleep such a stupor of fatigue could be 
 called. Then I was found next morning, more 
 dead than alive, and carried into the house, for I 
 could not stand ; and I believe my mind was all 
 astray for a time." 
 
 " Oh ! poor little boy ! how I should like to have 
 comforted you," sighed Miranda, with tears on her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " You, my darling ! forgive me, I beg your par- 
 don ; the word came of itself, I couldn't help it ; 
 the idea of being comforted by you did seem so 
 sweet. But you were hardly born then ; when I 
 was twelve years old, what a dear little toddling 
 thing of two or three you must have been !" 
 
 Miranda could not help comparing the graceful
 
 ! 44 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 ease, the tender, penetrating glance with which he 
 apologized for his involuntary freedom, with Mr. 
 Gaunt's " Beg pardon, I'm perfectly respectful." 
 Can the two men be of the same race ? she asked 
 herself both so good and so kind (what proofs had 
 she had, I wonder, of the goodness and kindness of 
 Lady Gregory's nephew ?), and yet one as superior 
 to the other as light to darkness. So thought 
 Miranda, weighing, as she did, the two men in 
 scales of her own manufacturing. Perhaps if she 
 had then been " nearly forty " she might have 
 judged differently. Perhaps she will judge men 
 differently when she is, perhaps not. 
 
 " And what happened ? " she asked. " Who did 
 comfort you ? poor boy ! poor child ! I hope some 
 one did." 
 
 " A little girl, who was staying with my aunt, 
 happened to run into the barn to play. She had a 
 dog with her, that, routing about among the straw, 
 came suddenly upon my feet sticking out in a corner, 
 and barking loudly, drew her attention to them. I 
 was covered with the straw in which I had rolled 
 myself, but my feet, as I said, stuck out. She seized 
 hold of them, and began pulling them violently." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried compassionate Miranda, who, while
 
 FRIENDSHIP. ! 4 - 
 
 she listened, actually trembled with sorrowful in- 
 terest. 
 
 " I groaned, for my feet were all blistered and 
 sore, and the anguish was really too much. She 
 found her hands covered with blood, and rushed, 
 roaring, from the barn, telling everybody that there 
 were two wicked dead feet in a barn, groaning, and 
 somebody had been murdered, all but his feet ! I 
 remember this way of telling what she had seen 
 became a standing joke against her afterwards." 
 
 " She must have been a very disagreeable little 
 girl, I think," said Miranda. 
 
 " She is a very disagreeable woman now," he re- 
 plied, composedly ; " it was Miss Hitchcock." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Miranda, " how very, very 
 odd!" 
 
 " But now," said he, " that I have told you some 
 of my history, does it make you pity me a little ? 
 do you feel a little kindly towards me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " as if that was necessary. 
 But I do, indeed I do ; I never heard anything more 
 interesting." 
 
 It requires very little to interest a girl of eighteen 
 when it is told to her by a handsome man of eight- 
 
 and-twenty. 
 
 10
 
 I4 6 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " And will it really make you think of me now 
 and then ? " 
 
 " Of course I shall think of you ? " 
 
 " I'm not fond of talking about myself generally 
 I hate it but to-day, do you know, it gives me 
 exquisite pleasure." 
 
 " There is nothing in the world I like so much as 
 when a friend talks to me about himself." 
 
 " Do you really ? how kind of you. I think you 
 are the kindest person I ever met." 
 
 "But I hope they were kind to you your aunt 
 Gregory, did she take care of you then ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that was how I was so much thrown into 
 her However, I went to school, and after that to 
 college. I was about two-and-twenty when my 
 father died." 
 
 " He is dead ! Ah ! " 
 
 She was thinking of his not being good. She 
 longed to ask if he had repented, but felt that the 
 subject was too sacred to be handled by her. 
 
 " I have something more I wish to tell you," con- 
 tinued he. " I found my property deeply in debt ; 
 and I was surrounded by advisers as to how I might 
 avoid paying the debts ; but, though not legally 
 bound, I considered that I was bound in honor, and
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 147 
 
 so by careful economy, in the course of some years, 
 I paid them all." 
 
 " How noble," thought Miranda, enchanted. " It 
 is just like the hero of a novel !" 
 
 " It was very good of you to pay them," she said, 
 softly and a little timidly. 
 
 " No, no," he cried hastily, and coloring ; " it's 
 not for that I told you. An honorable man 
 couldn't do otherwise. It's only that I want you to 
 know something about my life to understand the 
 trials that I have had, for then you will make 
 allowances for me it is not that I am praising 
 myself." 
 
 " Oh ! I know that," she cried, eagerly ; " pray 
 don't suppose for a moment that I thought other- 
 wise." 
 
 " A thousand thanks," he replied. " I believe you 
 understand me better than anybody ever did before, 
 and I am telling you more of what I felt than I have 
 ever told to living soul ; and I will admit, then, that 
 it was a hard time while the debts were being paid. 
 Men did not enter into it, and it placed me at a dis- 
 advantage with my contemporaries ; it was then that 
 I drew back from many friendships, and, thrown on 
 the society of women most affectionately treated by
 
 148 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 my aunt Gregory and her intimates it was then 
 that the great mistake of my life was made." 
 
 The meaning, obscure as it was, in this last sen- 
 tence, Miranda did not take in at all. She heard 
 the words, it is true, and they may recur to her some 
 future day when circumstances have given them a 
 meaning, but her mind was at this moment so full 
 of his noble life, that it failed to remark there had 
 been a mistake in it. 
 
 " Yes, I do understand," she said, timidly ; " it 
 must have been very hard." 
 
 " It was hard," he said. " There were things con- 
 nected with that time of self-denial I don't like to 
 think of now ; but I wish you to think of me some- 
 times, and I am so glad you should know just a lit- 
 tle about my life. You will think of me sometimes, 
 will you not ? " 
 
 " Indeed I will," said Miranda ; and then added, 
 simply, " how can I help it ? " 
 
 " I have thought of little but you since we first 
 met, continued he, making his voice as expression- 
 less as his glowing thoughts would permit. " It is 
 but fair you should give me a thought now and 
 then." 
 
 " Oh ! but I " began she, eagerly ; but she
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 1 4g 
 
 paused, blushing, without completing the sentence. 
 Her innate modesty taught her, without teaching, 
 that even in friendship it was the man's part to 
 make it, and the woman's to receive. We never 
 hear of making friendship, and yet it is, perhaps, 
 almost as much an art as making love. 
 
 " But you ? " he cried. He had been very pru- 
 dent and cautious hitherto. He felt the extreme 
 shortness of their acquaintance, and was in constant 
 fear of her taking alarm ; but now, for a moment, 
 he slipped out of the restraint he had put on him- 
 self, and could not forbear urging her a kind word 
 or two would be such a sweet gift to carry home 
 with him. " But you ? "' he cried. 
 
 Miranda had collected herself, and turned her 
 bright eyes frankly on him. 
 
 " But I," she said, gently, " have promised to be 
 your friend, and friends must think of each other." 
 
 How he adored the perfect modesty of even her 
 innocent unconsciousness ; how he thanked his fate 
 for having thrown such a woman in his way, and 
 given him such chances of winning her ; how he 
 vowed in his own heart that he would win her ; 
 and while she restored to him all the beauty and 
 freshness of his lost youth, his whole life should be
 
 I5 o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 devoted to making hers happy. Then a horrible 
 thought flashed across his mind had she ever 
 cared for anybody else ? He looked at her and felt 
 its utter absurdity. That child, with the woman 
 still dormant within her, 
 
 " The perfect woman, nobly planned," 
 whom his love was to call into life ! Still he knew 
 the idea, once roused, would haunt him unless it 
 was now laid, so it found utterance in a question. 
 
 "Are you such a friend to anyone else?" he 
 said, afraid of his own words as he heard them 
 spoken. 
 
 She smiled and shook her head. 
 
 " I have only Sophy," she replied, and then a 
 flood of delight came over her face as she thought 
 of the new joy he had given to her life, and he saw 
 that the delight was for him. 
 
 It took him a moment or two to quiet himself 
 before he could speak again. 
 
 " And now," he said, " I have, of course, some- 
 thing more to say. Now I must tell you about " 
 he stopped he was unwilling to speak the name- 
 unwilling to plunge into that part of the subject, 
 but he felt it must be done, and so, getting up his 
 courage, he went on " about Miss Hitchcock."
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 151 
 
 " About Miss Hitchcock !" cried Miranda, ex- 
 tremely surprised. " Why, what can you have to 
 
 say" 
 
 But here they were interrupted, and in the most 
 unexpected manner.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! 
 
 WHAT happened was a great banging of 
 doors, a great scuffling of feet, a great mur- 
 mur of voices, and several loud screams. The two 
 friends looked at each other for a moment, and then, 
 with one impulse, they both ran out into the lobby. 
 The noises, all different, yet all mingled together in 
 a strange heap, continued ; but in the back drawing- 
 room they could only hear in the lobby they could 
 hear, and they could also see. 
 
 What they saw was this 
 
 Something (no, surely it could not be some one) 
 being carried up stairs by men, other men following, 
 and a woman here and there screaming. 
 
 " What is it ? what can it be ? what is the 
 matter ? " cried Miranda, adding to the confusion. 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said her companion, gently. 
 " Nothing shall come near you or harm you. Let 
 me go on and see what it is."
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK: I53 
 
 A maid-servant was standing at the head of the 
 stairs screaming. 
 
 " My mistress, sir ! " she cried in reply to his 
 calm inquiries. " Miss Hitchcock, sir ! Murder ! 
 Fire ! Murder ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! " 
 
 And the screams rose louder and shriller than 
 ever. 
 
 " It's only a haccident, sir," said the coachman, 
 from below, speaking over the heads of the crowd ; 
 " the 'orses took fright they did hand a bus drove 
 right into hus, and smashed my poor carridge hall 
 to bits." 
 
 " And the lady too," said a man who was helping 
 to carry Miss Hitchcock up stairs. " There's not two 
 bits put right together in her whole body, poor soul !" 
 
 " Nonsense, man ! " said a policeman ; " don't 
 terrify the gentlefolks. The lady's stunned sir, and 
 met with an accident ; and there may be some bones 
 broke, no doubt ; but I don't think she's killed." 
 
 " Some of you people, instead of crowding where 
 you're of no use and are not wanted, run off to Dr. 
 Simpkin's, No. 4 Brook Street, and bring him here 
 directly," said Lady Gregory's nephew. 
 
 " Now, then, carry her into her own room, and 
 put her on the bed." Then turning to Miranda,
 
 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 he added, with the utmost gentleness, " Had you 
 not better go back into the drawing-room ? it is a 
 sad sight, and not fit for you." 
 
 Miranda hesitated. She was quite unaccustomed 
 to distressing scenes and sights, and shrank from 
 them with the sensitiveness of youth ; but if she 
 was now but a girl, almost a child, she was, as Mr. 
 Gregory (?) had felt, to be a woman one day, and she 
 had all a woman's noblest instincts and capabilities 
 within her. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said timidly, " I might be of "some 
 use; the servant totems frightened" 
 
 She trembled with fear herself as she spoke, but 
 still she walked quite "bravely into the room where 
 they were carrying her, or it which ? Very often 
 our acts are bravest when our spirits are most afraid. 
 
 Poor Miss Hitchcock was laid down on her bed, 
 and left there, Miranda and Mr. Gregory ( we will 
 call him so, as we know him by no other name) 
 stood beside her no one else ventured into the 
 room but a few flurried, whispering people were 
 huddled together outside the door. 
 
 The room was a beautiful one light blue tapes- 
 try adorned the bed and the windows ; the carpet, 
 covered with roses, felt like moss under your feet ;
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK I ISS 
 
 lace and gilding, gilding and lace, met the eye every- 
 where ; and there, among it all, lay the brown, ugly, 
 disagreeable-looking woman her eyes shut, her 
 mouth open, her face swelled, her fists clenched 
 dead, perhaps, or perhaps just going to die. 
 
 " And this is the end of all/' said Mr. Gregory. 
 What he meant Miranda did not divine, any more 
 than she understood the remorse in his voice. 
 
 She was thinking of being of use shrinking from 
 the sight of possible death, for the first time, or of 
 the still greater horrors of a possible half recovery 
 anxious to bring an appearance of life back into 
 that miserable face, though terrified at the idea of 
 what she might see if she succeeded. Under the 
 most favorable circumstances, there is something 
 ghastly in the struggles of the freed spirit, which our 
 own efforts are forcing back into the passive body, 
 incapable of assisting its return. 
 
 Miranda found and used salts and scents and wa- 
 ter everything in abundance and ready to her hand 
 everything except life, which it appeared to her 
 was not to be found. 
 
 At last she turned a look of appeal almost of 
 reproach on Mr. Gregory, who stood there frown- 
 in- down at the insensible face.
 
 156 MSS-S HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " She can't be dead?" she cried; and the last 
 word came out with a sound like a little scream. 
 
 " No, no," he said. " I think not I hope not I 
 trust not she cant be dead." 
 
 " There seems no injury nothing broken there 
 is no " She did not finish the sentence, but look- 
 ed expressively at the fair white coverlet. " It can 
 only be her head." 
 
 In her ignorance she spoke of mischief to the 
 head as of a less evil than to the limbs. 
 
 " I think she is very much hurt," was his only 
 reply. 
 
 " Does she live with nobody ? " asked Miranda, in 
 a very low voice, as if she was afraid of disturbing 
 her. 
 
 " With her father, who is out of town." 
 
 " Oh ! her poor father ! " said she, the ready tears 
 on her eyelashes. " Oh ! what will he do ! " 
 
 " He will bear it very well," replied Mr. Gregory 
 bitterly. " Of course he will be shocked and sorry ; 
 but these ties are not always what you think. This 
 father and daughter were not congenial, and were 
 neither of them, I suppose, capable of very strong 
 affections." 
 
 " I don't know," replied. Miranda, her mind taking
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! ! 57 
 
 a sudden leap back to a past day ; " she cried at my 
 singing." 
 
 I hardly understand why this remark struck him 
 so forcibly. He stared at her with blank eyes ; a 
 wave of feeling passed over his face, leaving it white, 
 and with a scared look in it. 
 
 " Cried at your singing ? " he said, with excite- 
 ment. " Oh ! that would be too much that would 
 be too much." 
 
 I don't believe he himself knew what he meant by 
 this, or why the idea should affect him so power- 
 fully ; but at the moment, it seemed to him to be 
 more than he could bear. 
 
 At last what an at last it was to them both 
 would Mr. Gregory have believed, ten minutes before* 
 that time coutdpass so slowly in Miranda's presence ? 
 at last, then, the doctor arrived. He made his 
 examination, and applied his remedies, and shook 
 his head. 
 
 " There is still hope," he said. " I can do nothing 
 more at present ; but there is still hope. She may 
 lie for twenty-four hours in this way, and at any 
 moment she may recover her senses. She must be 
 constantly watched. If she comes to herself, I must 
 f be sent for immediately, at the moment. If she
 
 l$S MfSS H1TCHCOCJSS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 seems weak, a little brandy should be given ; if 
 excited, cloths dipped in vinegar and water should 
 be laid on her head. Those are all the directions 
 for the present, and anyone can carry them out. By- 
 and-by, if she recovers her consciousness, the services 
 of a professional nurse may be required ; but her 
 own maid can do all that is wanted now. In fact, I 
 think the only thing wanted is for some one to sit in 
 her room, for I have no idea she will rouse from this 
 stupor for twelve or fourteen hours at the earliest." 
 Miranda turned and called in the maid, who, 
 when she found what was required of her, flatly 
 refused to do it. She declared she had never been 
 engaged for that sort of work ; it had never been put 
 into any of her characters ; she had been warned 
 years ago that she ought never to be frightened ; she 
 never could be bold enough to sit by the bedside 
 with that on it ; she couldn't touch her no, not 
 she, never 'neither to put brandy to her lips nor 
 water on her head ; and she had never supposed 
 anything of the sort would ever be evened to her. 
 And so, with a great many more " nevers," she went 
 off into a flood of tears, and evidently thought, that 
 of all the household she was the person to be most 
 pitied. Dr. Simpkin had before this taken his leave,
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! IS9 
 
 promising to look in again in the evening, if he was 
 not summoned before. 
 
 " Very well," Miranda said ; " then I will sit with 
 her for the present ; the poor thing must not be 
 left in this way. Alas ! how lonely some people 
 are ! " 
 
 " Not when visited by an angel," said Mr. Greg- 
 ory, in a low voice. " But will you really watch by 
 her ? " 
 
 " Certainly I will," was the reply ; " it would be 
 actual cruelty to do anything else." 
 
 " I can't pity her, so guarded ; I would almost 
 change places with her if I thought I should open 
 my eyes and find you there. Meantime, I must go. 
 We shall both be employed on the same work, for I 
 must follow her father and break the news to him. 
 You will think of me won't you ? while you are 
 watching the daughter and I am hurrying after the 
 father. I like to believe that you will think of me." 
 
 "Yes, I shall think of you," replied Miranda, 
 softly, and seating herself by the bedside. 
 
 He lingered as long as he decently could, but 
 few pretences for such ,delay offered themselves, 
 and after a minute or two he was obliged to take 
 his leave.
 
 T 6o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 And so Miranda was .left behind a solitary 
 watcher by the senseless body of a woman who 
 might be dead or who might be dying a stranger 
 to her, of whose very name she was ignorant a few 
 days before. 
 
 "And all this everything that has happened 
 since all comes of my trying on Miss Hitchcock's 
 wedding dress," thought she. 
 
 Then with a great start, as the accustomed 
 words, " Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress," passed 
 through her mind, she remembered that this was 
 Miss Hitchcock this dead or dying creature be- 
 side whom she now sat was the very Miss Hitchcock 
 whose wedding dress she had tried on. 
 
 She looked round the room, replete with every 
 com'"ort and luxury that money could procure, and 
 thought of its living mistress moving about in it. 
 A large Psyche glass stood opposite the bed. She 
 imagined Miss Hitchcock standing before this 
 glass, on the morning of her wedding day, trying on 
 the very dress that she had made. That is what 
 was to have been ; and, instead of that, was the 
 present scene all that she, the dressmaker, was to 
 watch by the death-bed of the bride ? And would 
 the shining satin and delicate lace never be worn,
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCKl xGi 
 
 except by her on that night, which now seemed so 
 far away, when she went dancing through the 
 splendid rooms at Lady Gregory's ball ? She shud- 
 dered and hid her face in her hands, and thought, 
 with a sort of terror, of that beautiful dress in which 
 she had been so happy. Then, naturally enough, 
 the idea of Mr. Cressingham presented itself to her 
 mind handsome and fashionable and charming as 
 Sissy had described him not caring for the woman 
 he was marrying for her money, and snubbed by 
 her in return. Where was he now ? What would 
 he feel when he heard of this dreadful accident 
 this life and death struggle in her who ought to be 
 dearer to him than all the world beside, and with 
 whom he had contemplated spending his future life ? 
 Would he be sorry ? Would he feel remorse that 
 he had not cared for her, and not caring for her, 
 would have married her ? Would a late love as 
 well as a late repentance spring into being when it 
 was too late, and death had taken for its o\vn, her 
 whom he should have loved in life ? 
 
 Hours passed away while lost in endless reveries. 
 Miranda held her weary watch in Miss Hitchcock's 
 bedroom. Evening was closing round her, its 
 shades falling early in a London room at the back
 
 1 62 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 of the house, looking towards a narrow street 
 Patiently had the girl sat through all this time, 
 performing the duty of the good Samaritan by a 
 stranger a duty which she supported calmly while 
 daylight lasted. But with the approach of night, 
 who announced his advent by the voice of the soft 
 summer twilight, a strange restlessness took hold of 
 her. Vainly she attempted to resist it ; it was too 
 powerful its strength was stronger than hers ; and 
 unable any longer to sit still, she slowly and 
 reluctantly rose to her feet. The great Psyche 
 mirror had an irresistible attraction for her. She 
 knew not why, but she felt as if she must approach 
 it and look boldly into its depths, in order to rid her- 
 self of the strange meaningless fears that were 
 oppressing her. She had been conjuring up a figure 
 in bridal costume standing before that mirror to see 
 itself reflected in the bright crystal, till the idea 
 haunted her that a ghostly bride must be there 
 there in the glass and that if she looked at the 
 shining surface, she should see this ghostly bride 
 instead of herself. She felt she could only lose the 
 horrid fancy by seeing herself really reflected in the 
 mirror, and then a sort of hurry seized her to do so 
 at once. " It will soon be dark, it will soon be dark,"
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! 163 
 
 she kept saying to herself, " and I shall never, never 
 know ; and suppose the fancy should not leave me, 
 and I should all my life be haunted by the knowl- 
 edge of that ghostly bride shut up in the looking- 
 glass ! " She knew how foolish she was, and yet she 
 could not help it. She did not really believe in the 
 notion, and yet, acting as if she did, in another 
 moment she had glided forward and placed herself 
 in front of the hanging glass. 
 
 She saw no brown, ugly woman in bridal finery 
 there no satin robe, its rich folds sweeping the 
 ground, softened by the light draperies of exquisite 
 lace only a slight young figure, in simplest dress, 
 and a fair, pale face crowned by a wealth of chestnut 
 hair. There seemed to Miranda, however, a new ex- 
 pression in that face which she had never seen in it 
 before ; when had it come, and what was it ? She 
 could not tell, but somehow it looked to her 
 less childlike more thoughtful than its wont ; what 
 was it ? She was puzzled, startled she gazed 
 earnestly at it, and the expression died away ; had 
 it been as if a soul was just passing into life ? She 
 saw the bed behind her in the glass, and suddenly 
 a head rose up from the pillow, a ghastly, brown 
 face appeared, and two great eyes stared helplessly
 
 HITCHCOCK' 'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 and beseechingly at her. In terror, the wildest and 
 the most unreasonable she had ever experienced in 
 her life, she turned desperately round to discover 
 that Miss Hitchcock was alive. 
 
 Another moment brought her to the bedside, look- 
 ing anxiously into her face to determine what the 
 treatment was that ought to be pursued ; but first 
 she rang the bell twice, the signal that it had been 
 agreed she should make if the doctor was to be sent 
 for. 
 
 " Am I ill ? " said Miss Hitchcock. 
 
 " I think you are better," replied Miranda, 
 gently. 
 
 " Where is Arthur ? " 
 
 Miranda hesitated an instant, and then answer- 
 ed 
 
 " Do you wish me to send for him ? I dare say 
 he would come. Where, does he live ? " 
 
 " Better not ; better not ; it is too late too late. 
 I won't do what he asks me ; and I will be rich, 
 and I will live as I like. Too late too late too 
 late." 
 
 Then Miranda got frightened, and placed a hand- 
 kerchief saturated with vinegar and water on her 
 forehead. She muttered incoherently to herself,
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! ^5 
 
 and suddenly closing her eyes again, became quite 
 quiet. 
 
 She had spoken in a weird, wild way quite 
 unlike Sophy's wanderings when she called for 
 George. Oh ! poor Sophy. How intensely, as the 
 thought of Sophy flashed across her mind, did 
 Miranda feel that she loved her. This was a 
 delirium, if delirium it was to be called, in which 
 she could imagine the spirit, that had broken free 
 from the restraints of the body, saying wicked 
 things. The manner in which the woman's lips 
 moved to utter words that those lips had lost the 
 power to restrain, appeared very dreadful to Mi- 
 randa. She shrank from the unconscious creature 
 who had declared so vehemently that she would be 
 always rich and do as she liked, while the constantly 
 repeated "too late " sounded in her ears like the wail 
 of a lost soul. 
 
 She breathed more freely when silence reigned 
 again in the room, and she sent up an earnest 
 prayer to God for the poor pitiable girl in the bed ; 
 for suddenly the idea of Miss Hitchcock's youth 
 appealed to Miranda's heart with all the force of a 
 new and most 'pathetic discovery. 
 
 So plain, so dark, and so independent, it had
 
 Z 66 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 never occurred to her before that she was young ; 
 but now she recognized the fact for the first time, 
 and a flood of pity and sorrow came over her as 
 she did so. 
 
 " Poor thing ! poor thing ! poor, poor thing ! " she 
 kept saying to herself ; and the kind, gentle 
 thoughts, the tender hopes, the earnest wishes 
 every one of which, if not a prayer in form, was a 
 prayer in fact that rose from Miranda's heart and 
 floated over the bed, must surely, in their innocent 
 strength, have wrought some good, either here or 
 hereafter, for the far different spirit in whose behalf 
 they were framed. 
 
 Just then came a little tap at the door, and 
 Miranda, flying to open it, found a small page, 
 all silver lace and buttons, standing outside. 
 
 " Is it the doctor ? " cried she, breathless. 
 
 " Yes-miss," answered the smart boy smartly ; 
 and at the same time a gentleman came up stairs. 
 
 She advanced a step to meet him, and, to her 
 extreme astonishment, found herself face to face, 
 not with Dr. Simpkin, but with Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 " Mr. Gaunt ! " cried she, all amazement. 
 
 " To be sure," was the reply, in his bluff, hearty 
 tones ; " why not ? The women were getting
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK ! 167 
 
 bothered at your staying so late ; Miss Sophy told 
 me where you were hanging out, and so here I am." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad," she said ; " you can tell 
 Sophy I can't help staying late. The lady has met 
 with an accident. She has no one to sit with her, 
 and I am doing so just for the present" 
 
 " Hullo ! " said he ; " turned sick nurse. That's a 
 new trade, isn't it ? " 
 
 " But I am so surprised Dr. Simpkin doesn't come." 
 
 " Please, miss," said the smart boy, " Dr. Simp- 
 kin's been and gone, and been sent for to one of the 
 Princesses ; and I thought this was t'other doctor, 
 come in his place, when he said he wanted^?/." 
 
 A thundering knock at the hall door, and the 
 smart boy winked at himself, as one who would say, 
 " Here he is ; that's your ticket ! " and disappeared 
 down the stairs. 
 
 "Much harm done ?" asked Mr. Gaunt. "What 
 sort of accident ? Any bones smashed ? " 
 
 " The injury seems almost entirely to the head," 
 replied Miranda. 
 
 She had stationed herself in such a position by the 
 partially open door, that she commanded a view of 
 the bed, and so would be instantly aware of any 
 movement on Miss Hitchcock's part.
 
 1 68 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Do you like watching and nursing ? " asked Mr. 
 Gaunt, looking at her curiously. Perhaps his artist- 
 eye had become conscious of new capabilities in her 
 Miranda face. 
 
 " No," she replied, frankly, " I don't ; it frightens 
 me ; but I like being of use. I wonder whether 
 another doctor has come instead of that one ? " 
 
 But instead of a doctor, a girl, in fashionable 
 promenade costume, came running up stairs. 
 
 "We've only just heard," she said; "we're so 
 shocked. Is she killed ? is she hurt ? What is 
 it ? " 
 
 After one puzzled moment, Miranda recognized 
 Miss Maria Leslie. 
 
 " She is not killed," she replied, " but she is very 
 much hurt." 
 
 . " What an awful shame ! " said Maria. 
 Mr. Gaunt regarded the pretty, fragile creature 
 with admiration, and said, half -aloud, "Hullo, 
 Ariel!" 
 
 Miss Leslie, in her turn, looked at him with open- 
 eyed interest. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked she of Miranda, very much 
 as if she was being shown a new wild beast. 
 " Mr. Gaunt," said Miranda, " Miss Leslie."
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK: 169 
 
 But Maria's attention was now concentrated on 
 Miranda herself. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " cried she, "is it really you ? 
 my soprano ! How awfully jolly! " 
 
 " I suppose I've no business here," said Mr. Gaunt, 
 gruffly. " Very well ; shall I take your message to 
 Miss Sophy? When will you come home your- 
 self ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said she, rather perplexed ; " I 
 have hardly thought of anything. I must stay here 
 while I'm wanted, mustn't I ? " 
 
 He looked at her with a sort of half -savage kind- 
 liness, and said 
 
 " Good girl ! " 
 
 Miss Leslie edged up to Miranda, and with a side 
 glance at Mr. Gaunt, whispered " Does it bite ? " 
 
 " Too late ! too late ! too late ! " wailed the 
 voice from the bed within. 
 
 Miranda turned, like a traitor who has been de- 
 tected in having left his post, and hastily retreated 
 through the door. 
 
 " How awfully horrid ! " cried Maria, quite pale. 
 11 Oh ! what shall I do ? " 
 
 " Be of use, like her," growled Mr. Gaunt, jerking 
 his thumb in the direction that Miranda had taken.
 
 I7 o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I can't," said Maria, pitifully ; " I never 
 was of any use in my life." 
 
 " Too late ! too late ! " said the voice. 
 
 " Oh ! don't, you horrid ! " cried Maria, and began 
 to cry. 
 
 But Mr. Gaunt strode into the room, put Miranda 
 on one side, usurped her place by the patient, 
 covered her forehead with the saturated handker- 
 chiefs, and bustling about among the bottles on the 
 table, found something that he poured down her 
 throat. 
 
 Then he said to Miranda, in a low voice, " This is 
 no place for you, and I sha'n't leave you here ; I 
 shall fetch a nurse and a doctor, and then I shall 
 take you home." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Miranda, from her heart. 
 
 Mr. Gaunt then strode out again to Maria, who 
 was crying in the lobby. 
 
 " Haven't you got a thingamy here ? " asked he. 
 4 " A what ? " 
 
 " A thingamy ! are you deaf ? A a coach and 
 four, of course, I mean a carriage of some sort ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I am driving, certainly." 
 
 " Well, may I take it a minute, and bring a nurse 
 and doctor ? "
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! 1 7 1 
 
 " Oh no, no ; I daren't stay here. I should die 
 of fright ; I should indeed ! " 
 
 " Then come with me ; you don't look bad, and 
 you wouldn't like your fiddle-faddles to stand in the 
 way of saving a life, I'm sure." 
 
 She gave him a quick glance. 
 
 " Yes, I will," she said ; " you don't look bad 
 either." 
 
 And so this strangely-matched pair drove off to- 
 gether in Miss Leslie's well-appointed carriage. 
 
 Miss Hitchcock remained perfectly quiet during 
 their absence, which appeared to Miranda intoler- 
 ably long, though in reality the time Mr. Gaunt took 
 to perform any business was about half that occupied 
 by the generality of mortals for the same purpose. 
 
 At last he appeared, bringing with him, as he 
 had promised, a doctor and a , nurse. The former 
 could do no more than repeat the opinion and the 
 directions given by Dr. Simpkin ; but the latter 
 was, most welcome to Miranda, her presence restor- 
 ing to her a liberty which had been so strangely 
 taken from her. 
 
 " It seems to me all like a dream," she said, as she 
 walked slowly home with Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 " A bad dream ? " suggested he.
 
 172 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Oh no, no ! " she cried quickly, and her thoughts 
 flew back to her conversation with Mr. Gregory. 
 "A wonderful dream, a strange dream things lead- 
 ing one into another, as they only do in dreams 
 but not a bad dream." 
 
 " You look as if you had gone to sleep in one 
 world and woke up in another," said he, in what 
 sounded like a tone of complaint. 
 
 " Do I ? " she replied, softly. " I did live in a 
 new world all the time I dreamt, and I feel as if I 
 was in it still I can't realize that I am going home 
 to Sophy and her garret. Oh, my dear Sophy ! " 
 
 " Yes; that's it" growled he ; "you have been 
 in a grand house and a beautiful bedroom all 
 filigree and fleur de lys, hang them and you can't 
 understand going home to a garret. That's it!"' 1 
 
 " Is that all you know about it ? " cried she. " Do 
 you really think that's it ? " and she laughed her in- 
 nocent, gay girl-laugh, which sounded for the first 
 moment almost strange in her own ears. 
 
 However, something either in the laugh or in 
 herself contented Mr. Gaunt, for he looked at her 
 quite kindly, and repeated over again what he had 
 said before 
 
 " Good girl."
 
 POOR MISS HITCHCOCK! 173 
 
 It was the sweetest happiness to Miranda to find 
 Sophy so much better. A tender embrace and 
 heaps of kisses made up for the long absence, and 
 then Miranda, seated by her sister's side, told her 
 the whole history of the afternoon's events begin- 
 ning with Mr. Gregory and ending with poor Miss 
 Hitchcock.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EXPLANATIONS. 
 
 UT," said Sophy, with a bewildered face, 
 " who is he ? " 
 
 " Oh, Sissy ! " how can you ask ? It is Mr. 
 Gregory Lady Gregory's nephew, of course. Did 
 I really only call him he ? But even so, who else 
 could it be ? " 
 
 " You called him Mr. Gregory ; it's not that, but 
 who is he ? where did you meet him ? how are you 
 friends ? " 
 
 " Oh, Sissy, Sissy ! yo\\cant have forgotten him 
 it's the one I danced with at Lady Gregory's ball." 
 
 " At Lady Gregory's ball ! " 
 
 " Oh, Sissy, Sissy, Sissy ! what can you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, Miranda ! what can you mean, I think it is ; 
 I have not the least notion what, you are talking 
 about. The one you danced with at Lady Gregory's 
 ball ? But you don't know any Lady Gregory, and 
 never went to a ball in your life."
 
 EXPLANA TIONS. 175 
 
 " Oh ! how can you say so, when I told you all 
 about it the ball I went to in Miss Hitchcock's 
 wedding dress." 
 
 41 In Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress! Please 
 don't, Miranda ; I'm not strong, and you tire and 
 worry me it is such nonsense, and you say it all 
 with such a grave face ; please don't." 
 
 " But I must, Sissy. I'm very sorry, only I must ; 
 it's all true, every word of it, and I told you all about 
 it when you were ill. Is it really possible you have 
 forgotten it all ? " 
 
 " You never told me a word," replied Sophy, with 
 energy. 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, indeed I did ! Don't say so ; the 
 very first day you were well enough, I told you the 
 whole story." 
 
 " Then I must have been too ill to take it in, for I 
 have not the most vague recollection of anything 
 you are talking about." 
 
 " Never mind, then ; I'll tell it you all over again." 
 
 " I'm very sorry," said Sophy, apologetically. 
 
 " You needn't be sorry," replied Miranda, her 
 eyes dancing ; " there's nothing I like so well as 
 telling it I'm quite charmed that I've got to tell it 
 to you again. Now listen, and be astonished."
 
 jy6 MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Sophy did listen ; and Sophy was astonished. 
 Miranda's daring, and the delightful evening that 
 she had spent in consequence, sounded to her like a 
 fairy tale. She made her repeat over and over again 
 that she had really put on the dress, and really gone 
 to the ball in it, and really passed as one of the 
 guests and not been found out, before she could 
 either believe or understand what she heard ; then 
 she scolded a little, and lamented a little, and said 
 it was very wrong and very foolish, and couldn't end 
 well, and must lead to something bad. But when 
 Miranda had brought her story down to its present 
 conclusion, a bright hope, a wild dream, sprang up 
 in Sophy's soft unworldly heart. She looked at 
 Miranda, and felt, rather than saw, how lovely, how 
 sweet, how good she was a girl to enchant any 
 man a creature worthy of any rank that might 
 make any home happy ; and so Sophy sank down 
 among her pillows and closed her eyes, and gave 
 herself up to the bewildering prospect that seemed 
 opening before her, and built the most beautiful of 
 all air castles that which is to contain the happi- 
 ness of another. 
 
 With her true woman's heart, she did not give the 
 girl one hint of all this. She would not have dis-
 
 EXPLANA TW.Y.S. ! 7 7 
 
 turbed her unconscious simplicity no, not even if, 
 by so doing, she could have secured her the lot 
 which she almost believed was within her reach ; nor 
 with her own early dreams safe in her heart, would 
 Sophy for worlds have deprived Miranda of the joy 
 of being first wakened to love by the lover himself. 
 No sacrilegious hand should shake the bloom from 
 the blossom, which ought to be gathered in all its 
 sweet freshness, if it is gathered at all. 
 
 She did not think it prudent to dwell too much on 
 Mr. Gregory to Miranda, and when the first over- 
 whelming feelings were past, and she was beginning 
 to accustom herself to those new ideas and new 
 hopes which had so suddenly invaded their lives, 
 she encouraged her to talk more of her watch in 
 Miss Hitchcock's room, and the possibility of her 
 having to sing at Miss Leslie's charade party, 
 than of her conversations with Lady Gregory's 
 nephew. 
 
 Then, after a time, when all these more inter- 
 esting and exciting subjects had been discussed, 
 Miranda began to remember Mr. Gaunt and his 
 picture, and how he had attended Sophy, and 
 fetched her from Miss Hitchcock's, and how kind 
 and good-natured he had been.
 
 I7 8 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " What a true friend ! " said Sophy, when she 
 had heard this almost-forgotten part of the story. 
 
 But Miranda had a different idea of true friend- 
 ship just at that moment, and laughed a little laugh 
 of happy scorn. 
 
 " Well, he is very good-natured," said she ; " but 
 you can't think, Sissy, how pretty he's made me in 
 the picture. Oh ! it is nice to be pretty, Sissy ; 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, it is ! " replied Sophy, with a smile 
 for the pretty, innocent face that asked the question 
 quite as appealingly as the words did, and a sigh for 
 the days when she too felt the sweet joy of beauty. 
 
 " I don't suppose it could have been very naughty 
 of me, after all, to wear Miss Hitchcock's wedding 
 dress," said Miranda, "because I was so heavenly 
 happy, and one cant be really happy when one is 
 doing wrong." 
 
 " Oh yes, one can," said Sophy ; " wrong pleasures 
 make us happy for the time, and tJicrcs the great 
 danger ; papa said so." 
 
 " It's not true," interrupted Miranda, before the 
 last three words were out of Sophy's lips, and then 
 stopped in horror at herself. " Oh ! of course, I 
 don't mean that ; if papa says so it must be true,
 
 EX PLAN A TIONS. 1 7 9 
 
 only I don't think it's so with me. I dare say it's 
 my fault that it isn't, or that I'm not sensible 
 enough, or something ; but I do think I'm never 
 really happy when I'm doing wrong. I do indeed, 
 Sophy.'' 
 
 " Well, you are an innocent sort of a child,! 
 Miranda," said Sophy, smiling fondly at her ; " so 
 perhaps you are not." 
 
 For which speech, gay, loving Miranda kissed her, 
 Sissy half-a-dozen times. 
 
 "And now," said poor Sophy, "you must give me 
 some work and take some yourself, for I am afraid^ 
 with all these balls and friendships and illnesses, 
 we shall find the purse has been getting empty. " 
 
 So the two sisters were very industrious that day 
 and the next. Sophy was not strong enough to 
 leave her bed or to work hard, but she sewed on 
 lace and trimmings, and did the easy parts, and, 
 Miranda sang to her all the time. I do believe 
 though they were so poor, and one of them was ill, 
 and they had to labor thus even for their daily food, 
 that at this time both were happy. 
 
 In the afternoon Miranda asked rather timidly 
 whether Sophy did not think she ought to go and 
 inquire how poor Miss Hitchcock was.
 
 !8o MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " I wish it very much," she said, wistfully ; "but 
 I also really think I ought." 
 
 " I think so too," replied Sophy. 
 
 Then Miranda, in her delight at that, performed 
 a little impromptu waltz round the room. 
 
 " That was how we did it, Sophy," she cried ; " it 
 was thus we went whirl, whirl, whirl Mr. Gregory 
 and I. Oh ! the delight of dancing ; Oh, how sweet, 
 how sweet it is ! " 
 
 " Look in that press, pet," said Sophy, " and you 
 will find the Indian shawl and some real old lace ; 
 with my black silk skirt and your nice little bonnet 
 you will look quite well dressed. Oh ! Miranda, 
 perhaps some day " But here the prudent Sophy 
 broke off ; she bit her lip, and with pain and difficul- 
 ty kept down the words ; but the vision of sweet 
 Miranda, splendidly dressed, stepping into her own 
 pretty carriage, suddenly sprang up before her eyes 
 and filled them with tears. Poor eyes, well used to 
 weeping, how strange the tears of happiness seemed 
 to them ! 
 
 Seldom had any commands of Sophy's been more 
 agreeable to Miranda than these, and with innocent 
 joy she took out the old carefully-kept finery, and 
 attired herself in it ; then she went sweeping and
 
 EXPLANA TIONS. ! 8 1 
 
 careering about the room, twisting herself in all 
 manner of ways, and assuming all the airs of a 
 fashionable lady. 
 
 "Shall I do?" cried she; "am I nice? am I 
 pretty ? do I look like one of them ? " Here she 
 performed a magnificent curtsey. " Oh ! there is 
 such a love of a glass in Miss "Hitchcock's bedroom, 
 reaching down to the ground, and up and up, ever 
 so much taller than I am ; if I had it, Sissy, I 
 should be dancing before it all day ; I should in- 
 deed. And isrit it a pity she's so plain, poor 
 thing ! she can't take any pleasure in it, can she ? " 
 " Perhaps you may have one some day, Miranda." 
 "I? Oh, Sissy!" and she laughed quite out at 
 the idea of such an impossibility ; " as if I should 
 ever save up money, or go without dinners, for 
 that ! I don't really care about it in that sort of a 
 way, you know of course I don't ; but there's 
 nothing seems to me harder than some people 
 being so very, very plain, and others so very, very 
 pretty." Then she blushed a little, as if afraid she 
 had said a vain thing, and added hastily, " There's 
 Maria, now " she always thought of Miss Leslie 
 as Maria, and jestingly called her so " she would 
 like to dance all day before that glass ; and poor
 
 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Miss Hitchcock, why, if she only danced there 
 just one little minute, it would be enough to make 
 her cry with vexation at seeing what she was 
 like." 
 
 And the idea of Miss Hitchcock dancing at all 
 in front of the mirror was so grotesque and incon- 
 gruous that she was obliged to stop to laugh, 
 Then she suddenly became grave. 
 
 " That comes," she said, " of thinking too much 
 of appearance, just as papa used to say ; I find it 
 makes me frivolous, but I don't much mind that ; 
 but when it makes me laugh at a poor thing for 
 being ugly, oh, that must be very wrong indeed. 
 What a pity it is, Sissy, that when we don't mean 
 harm, we can't keep all our thoughts and feelings 
 quite right, and quite quite kind." 
 
 Miranda became so sorrowful here, that Sophy 
 had to comfort her. 
 
 " I really am as vexed as possible that poor Miss 
 Hitchcock is not pretty," Miranda admitted, in her 
 own defence ; " and I only laughed because I 
 couldn't help it. I began by really pitying her 
 because she couldn't dance before that glass and 
 feel glad, and then the idea of her doing it made 
 me laugh ; but it shows how careful we ought to be
 
 EXPLANA TIONS. 1 8 3 
 
 about our fellow-creatures ; and I will be careful, 
 Sissy, indeed I will." 
 
 And so our Miranda kissed Sophy, and went on 
 her way consoled. 
 
 As she tripped down stairs, she perceived that 
 the front drawing-room door was ajar. She could 
 not resist just pushing it open and displaying her- 
 self for one brief passing second to the astonished 
 eyes of Mr. Gaunt, who was sitting at his table, op- 
 posite to it, devouring his early dinner of cold boil- 
 ed beef, with plenty of pickles and vinegar. There 
 she stood in the doorway like a picture in a frame, 
 only no picture could ever be so fresh, so radiant, 
 or so gay. 
 
 " Am I nice ? " she cried, and dropped a little 
 curtsey. Then, shocked at her own forwardness, 
 and closing the door with a great bang, she ran 
 laughing down into the hall, and so danced out of 
 the house door, and with difficulty restrained her 
 steps into a proper walk when she found herself in 
 the street. 
 
 At Miss Hitchcock's she seemed to be expected, 
 for the smart boy in silver lace and buttons showed 
 her at once into a small, but pretty sitting-room on 
 the ground floor, saying he believed Miss Hitchcock
 
 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 was better and had spoken conscious, but he would 
 make inquiries. 
 
 A pompous, very ill-natured looking, middle-aged 
 man shortly afterwards entered the room. He ad- 
 dressed Miranda with great politeness. Regarding 
 her all the time with the most ill-natured expression 
 possible, he overwhelmed her with thanks. 
 
 " I really don't know how to thank you enough 
 for your kindness to my poor daughter ; it was real- 
 ly too much ; such goodness to a stranger could 
 never have been expected. I really don't know how 
 to thank you enough." 
 
 And all the time he spoke, he kept looking at her 
 as if he could have killed her. 
 
 She smiled and blushed, and said, " Oh ! I did 
 nothing. I am glad I was here. But how is she 
 to-day ? is she better ? " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " She is better after a fashion. She is quiet, and 
 the doctor says she is going on well, but it is to be a 
 most tedious business, and the inconvenience is 
 much to be deplored. v I must go out of town. I 
 am greatly to be pitied." 
 
 Miranda looked at him in amazement. " You ! " 
 she said ; and that was all her reply.
 
 EXPLANA TIONS. 1 8 5 
 
 " Yes," replied he, not one whit abashed. " You 
 can form no idea. An illness of this kind is a most 
 melancholy thing ; you have no notion of the 
 difference it makes in a house. I can't stand it I 
 can't stand it no one could. And our bedrooms, 
 most unfortunately, happen to be on the same floor. 
 I always did have a feeling, a strong feeling, that 
 she might just as well have gone up another flight 
 of stairs ; but then, as mistress of the house How- 
 ever, it was very thoughtless, when they brought 
 her in, that they did not carry her up at once to her 
 maid's room, instead of taking her into her own 
 very thoughtless indeed ; but some people have no 
 thought. I never can understand people being so 
 inconsiderate to others. It is most inconvenient. 
 I shall have to go out of town. I am really very 
 much to be pitied." 
 
 And now he looked at Miranda, quite as if he 
 considered that she was to blame, not only for this, 
 but for all the other bad and selfish arrangements 
 made in the world, and as if he would have gladly 
 taken vengeance on her for them all, there and thea 
 
 She, in return, felt nothing but disgust for him. 
 
 " Does she suffer ? " asked she. 
 
 " She ? who ? suffer ? what ! Hannah ? my
 
 X 86 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 daughter ? Miss Hitchcock ? I really am not pre- 
 pared to answer. I suppose people must suffer who 
 meet with accidents ; they cannot escape. At 
 present I believe she is generally unconscious ; when 
 consciousness returns, it will of course make the 
 case very much more trying, and it would be 
 impossible for me to be in the house. Nothing 
 can be more inconvenient, and I am greatly to be 
 pitied." 
 
 " I think poor Miss Hitchcock is fifty times more 
 to be pitied than you are," replied indignant 
 Miranda, with unusual abruptness for her. 
 
 " What ! Hannah ? " cried her father, infinitely 
 astonished. 
 
 " And her name is Hannah too ! " thought com- 
 passionate Miranda. " Hannah ! such a name to 
 be added to all the rest. She is unfortunate." 
 
 But she said nothing more ; only looked at him 
 with lovely offended eyes, whilst he returned the 
 gaze with that ill-natured expression of his, which 
 may have really meant nothing, and for which, if 
 so, he deserved pity more than his daughter did for 
 her dangerous illness, or even for the great misfor- 
 tune of having been christened Hannah. 
 
 " I only called to inquire," said Miranda at last,
 
 EXPLANATIONS. 187 
 
 finding the interview extremely unpleasant. " I am 
 so glad she is going on well. Good-morning.'' 
 
 " Oh ! but I beg your pardon. I have a message 
 for you, a note ; no, a card." Miranda felt her 
 happy heart beating fast, and the rose-blushes rising 
 into her face, as she thought of Mr. Gregory. " I 
 promised to deliver it myself. I placed it here, In 
 my waistcoat pocket, that it might be near the 
 region of the heart, as I told the giver." Here he 
 smiled a most ill-natured smile, and, taking a card 
 from the pocket referred to, presented it to Miranda 
 with a pompous, flourishing bow. She half closed 
 her eyes for half a second, as one anxious to pro- 
 long the pleasures of expectation, and then, opening 
 them, they rested on and read the following words. 
 First, printed in the centre of the card, " Miss 
 Leslie ; " and secondly, written in pencil below the 
 name, " Do come to me the minute you can ; there's 
 a dear. Always tea and chat at 4 P.M. We must 
 settle about the soprano. Life's short ; heigho ! " 
 
 The momentary pang of sharp disappointment 
 was succeeded by a feeling of pleasure. How nice 
 to go to " Maria," and settle about the soprano ! 
 What an agreeable way of spending an hour in 
 itself ! And then then was it not all leading
 
 !88 J//.S-.S' HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 to another interview with Mr. Gregory, who had 
 promised to be at the charade party, if she would 
 undertake the soprano ? 
 
 " I sec," she said ; " I must not lose any time. 
 It is four o'clock now, and Miss Leslie is expecting 
 me." 
 
 "Present to Miss Leslie the expressions of my 
 unchangeable loyalty and devotion, and assure her 
 that it is only to her I would have spared so charm- 
 ing a companion as yourself," replied Mr. Hitch- 
 cock, with another pompous, flourishing bow, and 
 looking more than ever as if he would have liked to 
 kill her. 
 
 " Oh, what nonsense ! *' said Miranda ; and so 
 saying, she danced out of the room and the house. 
 " And I've no doubt he's sharpening his knife, 
 ready," said she. "Ugh! the monster. And mur- 
 der itself is not worse than such nasty selfishness ; 
 dear, dear, how horrid it would be to feel like that /" 
 And so she walked to the other side of the square 
 no contemptible distance either and rang and 
 knocked at Mrs. Leslie's door. 
 
 It was opened by a footman in livery, while a 
 jauntily-dressed lady's-maid stood behind and peep- 
 ed over his shoulder.
 
 EXPLANATIONS. Z 8g 
 
 " Is it the young lady for Miss Maria ? " she ask- 
 ed over the shining epaulette. 
 
 " Yes," replied Miranda. 
 
 " Come this way, please, ma'am. Miss Leslie 
 will be delighted to see you." 
 
 And so she brought Miranda upstairs into a little 
 cosy room on the drawing-room floor, fitted up with 
 every luxury as a young lady's boudoir, but with 
 pictures of hunters and jockeys hanging on the' 
 walls and a pair of diminutive boxing-gloves lying 
 on the work table. 
 
 Maria was lounging in an easy-chair, looking a 
 little pale and disconsolate. 
 
 " Oh ! " said she, raising herself languidly up, " is 
 it you ? I am glad ; but I am so sick ; " then she 
 fixed her large soft eyes plaintively on Miranda. 
 " Can you smoke ? " 
 
 She looked so small, so fragile, and so feminine. 
 
 " Smoke ! " cried Miranda. " What do you mean ? 
 Smoke what ? How ? Glass, or drawings, or what ? " 
 
 " Pipes," said Maria, laconically. 
 
 " Pipes ! " 
 
 " Yes, of course, not real pipes those are only 
 for man, lucky man but cigars, ci cigarettes ; can 
 you smoke them ? "
 
 I 9 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 There was a world of plaintive anxiety in her voice 
 and face. 
 
 "/smoke them?" replied the amazed Miranda. 
 I? Of course not I never tried." 
 
 Maria sank back among her pillows, turning a 
 little paler still. 
 
 " Well, I have," said she, " and I can't, they always 
 make me sick ; it is so hard, isn't it ? and when I 
 really do try my very best." 
 
 " But why do you try ? " asked Miranda, inno- 
 cently. " Have you asthma ? " 
 
 " Asthma ! " cried Maria. " No, thank you ; I'm 
 not an old fogy, am I ? Do I look like asthma ? 
 I try it because it's good form, and because I can't 
 bear that men should have all the pleasures it is 
 so unfair." 
 
 " But they haven't, have they ? I'm sure I don't 
 think they have. I'm sure we have heaps of pleas- 
 ures." 
 
 " I wonder what they are," sighed Maria. " Here 
 am I as sick as anything oh ! so sick because I 
 smoked a tiny little cigarette for three minutes ; and 
 there's Ned, my brother, you know, smokes fifteen 
 real cigars in the day and enjoys it, and I think them 
 horrid, and I can't bear the smell. Oh, how hard it is ! "
 
 EXPLANA TIONS. ! g i 
 
 " Hard that you can't do what } ou don't like ? 
 That is a new sort of hardship, surely." 
 
 " No, hard that I can't like what I want to do," 
 replied Maria, rather sharply. " I thought you'd 
 sympathize with me, and perhaps teach me how." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Miranda, laughing, and won- 
 dering to herself what Mr. Gregory would think of 
 a woman smoking. " If I had found you with the 
 tiniest cigar in your mouth conceivable, I'd have 
 twiched it out of your mouth directly." 
 
 " Woul.1 you really, now ? Oh, I'm afraid you're 
 not at all sound in your ideas, and you so larky ; 
 I thought you'd be up to anything." 
 
 Miranda laughed and shook her head. 
 
 "It's awfully hard lines on girls," said Maria. 
 
 " I don't think so one bit," cried Miranda, ener- 
 getically. " I think a girl's life is delicious." 
 
 " I don't see it," replied Maria. " I wish I did. 
 And then girls have to marry, you know." 
 
 Miranda blushed. 
 
 " Yes," she said, very softly, " sometimes." 
 
 " Sometimes ! " almost screamed Maria, sitting 
 upright in her chair, and the color coming back 
 into her face from surprise. "Why, it's the one 
 thing they always have to do."
 
 I9 2 Jlf/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Miranda, " not always ; not 
 unless " 
 
 " Unless what ? " 
 
 " Why, of course you know what I mean a girl 
 must care for somebody very much oh ! very much 
 indeed before she consents to leave all she loves 
 for his sake." 
 
 Miranda blushed while she spoke, and looked 
 like the sweetest picture of maiden modesty con- 
 ceivable. I think if Mr. Gaunt had seen her, he would 
 have taken her portrait on the spot, and called it 
 Dawn ; for to an experienced eye there surely was the 
 dawn of love to be seen in her fair, innocent face. 
 
 " Is that all you know about it ? " answered 
 Maria, disdainfully. " Well, I wonder where you 
 were reared." 
 
 "I'm sure," said Miranda, "my ideas are more 
 usual than yours." 
 
 " How would you like to marry that Hitchcock, 
 then ? " asked Maria. 
 
 " Marry who ? " 
 
 " That Hitchcock." 
 
 " What Hitchcock ? " 
 
 " The man who gave you my card who sent you 
 here."
 
 EX PL AN A TIONS. 1 93 
 
 "What, old Mr. Hitchcock!" cried Miranda, 
 displaying all her pearly teeth in a burst of laughter 
 " Miss Hitchcock's father ?" 
 
 "Yes, old Mr. Hitchcock Miss Hitchcock's 
 father how would you like to marry him, I say ? " 
 
 " Why, not at all, of course," laughed Miranda. 
 "What girl would?" 
 
 " Here's the girl who's got to do it, then," replied 
 Maria, in a half comic manner, tapping her chest as 
 she spoke. 
 
 ' ' Oh, nonsense ! How can you say such a thing ? " 
 
 " I don't say, I will do it ; but, Yvz got to do it ; 
 they all want me to do it, and they're always going 
 on at me about it." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! and is the poor, foolish old man really 
 in love with you ? What a pity !" 
 
 " He's not offered yet ; but they're always telling 
 me it's in my own hands, and that I may thank my- 
 self if he doesn't." 
 
 "Oh ! do take care and keep him back, then. It 
 must be so sad to have to refuse a man, and an old 
 man, too." 
 
 " I've refused heaps of men," replied Maria, 
 
 " Have you really ? " said Miranda, looking at her 
 with mingled pity and respect. 
 
 13
 
 HITCHCOCK'S IV ED DING DRESS. 
 
 " Yes, I like it ; don't you ? it's something to do, 
 and it's a sort of revenge upon them for being men, 
 while we're only women. I do so hate being a 
 woman." 
 
 " But they can't help it," replied Miranda, gravely. 
 
 " I say," said Maria, suddenly, " that beast of yours 
 didn't bite." 
 
 " Beast of mine ! " repeated Miranda, looking about 
 her in astonishment. " What do you mean ? I haven't 
 got a beast." 
 
 " Doesn't it belong to you that wild man of the 
 woods I carried off in my carriage with me ? I 
 thought it did. He ordered me about, and took me 
 to a hospital here and a house there ; and he filled 
 up my thingamy, as he called it, with nurses and 
 doctors, without 'with your leave,' or 'by your 
 leave ; " but he didn't bite. I think he's a very 
 nice beast." 
 
 " He is very good-natured." 
 
 " Has he got any name ? What do they call 
 him ? Has Frank Buckland seen him ? Does he 
 hang out at the Zoo ? " 
 
 " His name is Gaunt." 
 
 " And what is he, if he's not a beast ?" 
 
 " He's an artist."
 
 EXPLANATIONS. ! 9S 
 
 " An artist, and his name Gaunt ! Oh you're 
 laughing at me now ; you're not going to tell me 
 that that's Gaunt the painter." 
 
 " I really don't know ; his name's Gaunt, and he 
 paints pictures." 
 
 " Was he bred a doctor ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, that he certainly was, for he told me 
 so ; and he cured Sophy, and did poor Miss Hitch- 
 cock a great deal of good too." 
 
 " Well, I am astonished I never was more aston- 
 ished in my life. So that was Gaunt the painter ; 
 and I had a tete-a-tete drive with him. What an 
 honor ! I'd no more idea of it don't you know 
 I'm wild about art. How glad I am I said he was 
 a nice beast ! "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CHARADE. 
 
 AT this moment tea was brought in, and Miss 
 Leslie, forgetting all about her sickness and 
 her cigarette, sprang from her chair to exercise the 
 hospitalities of a little tea-table, which she did grace- 
 fully enough. Miranda, having dined but scantily, 
 was charmed at the unwonted luxury of this after- 
 noon meal, and ate cake and brown bread and butter 
 till Maria laughed. 
 
 " Go on, do go on ; take another slice. It's de- 
 lightful to see a girl eat like that near the end of 
 the season, too. I never can eat as I wish ; I've 
 often made myself ill trying ; it's too aggravating to 
 see men eat slice after slice, dish after dish. Why 
 should they be able to take in so much more than 
 we do ? How I have tried to eat like a man ! " 
 
 Miranda laughed. 
 
 " Certainly," said she, " the pleasures you envy
 
 THE CHARADE. ! 97 
 
 are what I should have never given a thought to 
 smoking and eating! " 
 
 " And drinking ! " cried Maria, with great energy. 
 " Oh, my dear, to see men drink, and quite steady 
 on their legs afterwards ! Now two glasses of wine 
 and a tumbler of beer are as much as I can stand ; 
 and I'd rather not take them, at the same time. It's 
 shameful injustice horribly shameful. And then 
 .there's not a bit of harm in a man swearing a little 
 just a little, you know not ugly oaths, but spirited ; 
 and then they stand with their backs to the fire in 
 the most delightful manner, and they may sit just in 
 any attitude they like." 
 
 Miranda laughed heartily at this catalogue of 
 grievances. 
 
 " Not one of which mighty privileges do I envy 
 them of a bit; "said she ; " and, all together, they can't 
 outweigh a girl's pleasure in being nice, and finding 
 herself liked." 
 
 She hesitated over the two words nice and liked 
 which she finally selected, and blushed brightly 
 before she had finished her speech. 
 
 " Yes, but that's only because we can torment man 
 by it," replied Maria, " so it's not a selfish pleasure. 
 Now all a man's pleasures are entirely selfish ; they
 
 I9 8 MISS HITCHCOCK' 1 S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 concern no other people at all, but just him ; and it's 
 selfish pleasures that are so much the best," added 
 she, discontentedly. 
 
 " I'm quite sure that's not true," said Miranda, 
 nodding her head emphatically. 
 
 " But all this time," cried her hostess, with sudden 
 recollections " all this time we have forgotten the 
 soprano." 
 
 " And I can't stay muck longer ; but I'm ready 
 now to do anything you like." 
 
 " The charade is Ireland, because, you see, it's so 
 difficult to hit on anything new, and we don't think 
 Ireland has been acted before." 
 
 " And how do you do it ? " 
 
 " First of all, you know, somebody has to be an- 
 gry that's Ire ; so we have that old fellow who 
 was he ? an old fellow who knew something and 
 couldn't bear noise. It wasn't Sir Isaac Newton or 
 Mr. Hudson, was it ? No, no, it's somebody who was 
 alive the other day ; he made a cabinet pianoforte 
 calculate. I couldn't bear the idea of a piano doing 
 sums while I was playing, so I sold mine and bought 
 a grand in stead." 
 
 " A very good exchange, I should say." 
 
 " Well, but what was the name of the man ? I
 
 THE CHARADE. jgg 
 
 used to remember it by calling him a cabbage, to be 
 sure ! Babbage was the name all right. Well, he's 
 to be at his table studying, when, all of a sudden, 
 all the London cries and disturbances begin outside, 
 one after another, and he goes on getting more and 
 more and more in a rage all the time, and that's Ire, 
 you know, and you're to be one of the sounds, for 
 you're to sing a ballad to a creaky, creaky organ. 
 How will you like that ? " 
 
 " I think it will be great fun." 
 
 " All right ; so do I, only I call it awfully jolly, 
 why don't you ? great fun's tame. However, what's 
 his name ? oh, Cabbage, Babbage yes, Babbage 
 is in such a precious state, he forswears earth, and 
 says the only place worth living in is a ship on the 
 sea ; so he goes to sea to be quiet, and soon finds 
 out his mistake, and after a bit he's wrecked 
 there's no end of a storm, and he's no end of a cow- 
 ard ; so he's awfully glad when he finds himself on 
 shore again, and he throws himself down flat on his 
 face and kisses the ground. That's Land, you 
 know." 
 
 " But the sea part must be difficult to act." 
 
 " Not a bit of it it's all managed with millions of 
 yards of green baize, up and down on rollers for the
 
 200 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 sea, and the wagonette on them for the ship ; only 
 we think the coachman will turn rusty and not let 
 us have the wagonette, so Ned's to make him 
 drink first, ,and then it's sure to be all square." 
 " And how do you do Ireland ? " 
 " Oh, that's easy enough we just have two pro- 
 cessions that come tearing by the minute the poor 
 old thing's safe on shore an orange procession and 
 a green procession, with flags, and tunes, and every- 
 thing ; and they set to work fighting, and kill each 
 other right off ; and when there's nothing but heaps 
 of dead men all round him orange heaps and green 
 heaps two processions, and both of them dead 
 poor Babbage finds out that London is the best place 
 after all." 
 
 " So that your charade has a moral to it." 
 " A moral, has it ? Oh, I hope not ; I hate 
 morals. However, I don't think it's a particularly 
 good moral ; is it ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know^that it is, particularly." 
 " Oh, then, Idon't mind. I did think of bringing 
 in, just at the end, the two Kilkenny cats who fought 
 till there was nothing left of either but the fluff at 
 the end of- their tails, because they really were Irish, 
 and it would have given an air of reality to the
 
 THE CHARADE. 2OI 
 
 scene ; but mamma said she would not be among 
 the audience if we had fighting cats. Besides, I 
 don't quite see how we could have managed it." 
 
 " Nor I either, I'm sure." 
 
 " And now, will you practice your song ? or, at 
 any rate, try it through ? I've got the most 
 delicious hand-organ, as creaky as possible, all out 
 of tune, and doing every single thing under the sun 
 that it shouldn't do bless it and you're to sing to 
 it perfectly in tune. Now then." " 
 
 While she spoke she produced the organ from 
 under the sofa, and tossed a song to Miranda ; and 
 the two girls proceeded to their work as well as they 
 could for laughing Maria grinding the organ with 
 a will, and Miranda singing, her eyes radiant with 
 joy, as they always were when she sang. 
 
 "SINGING ALONG. 
 
 " What shall I do with this life of mine, 
 
 Singing along through the lanes and streets ! 
 Singing and sunshine are very fine, 
 And a smile on every face one meets. 
 
 "Youth is so sweet, and the world so fair, 
 
 Singing along through the lovely land ; 
 I'd rather dance 'mid the daisies there 
 Than in a palace so great and grand.
 
 202 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " I am the monarch of all I see, 
 
 Singing along wheresoe'er I please ; 
 Bird and blossom, river and tree, 
 Are all so dear to a heart at ease. 
 
 " Youth is so sweet, and a life so blest, 
 
 Singing along 'neath the open skies ; 
 Freely I wander or take my rest 
 
 As sunshine wakens or moonlight dies. 
 
 " Singing along, oh ! singing along 
 
 Singing along while the world is fair; 
 
 Song and sunshine, sunshine and song 
 
 Am I not finding them everywhere ? " 
 
 Just as Miranda finished singing there was a 
 little tap at the door which was ajar, and was 
 then immediately pushed open and Lady Greg- 
 ory's nephew walked in. 
 
 "What you, Arthur?" cried Maria, jumping up 
 from her organ. " How uncommonly jolly ! " 
 
 Mr. Gregory, however, had only eyes for Miranda, 
 and it was not till he had shaken hands with her, 
 and looked all the delight this meeting gave him, 
 that he found time to extend two fingers to Miss 
 Leslie with a languid how-d'ye-do ? 
 
 " What could bring you here at an hour when you 
 are not usually out of bed ? " pursued Maria. 
 
 "Nonsense," replied he, annoyed. "I was at
 
 THE CHARADE. 203 
 
 Hitchcock's, and learned I should find you here," 
 addressing Miranda in a softened voice, " and so I 
 came." 
 
 Miranda could not understand the sort of em- 
 barrassment she felt at meeting him in the presence 
 of another person. 
 
 " I am afraid I must be going," she said. 
 
 " I was fortunate in hearing your song," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Oh, you have been eavesdropping, have you ? " 
 asked Maria. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, coolly. " I have been stand- 
 ing for half-an-hour outside that door listening to 
 every word you both said." 
 
 " Hoping to hear us discuss your highness whose 
 name, however, we did not even mention," said 
 Maria. " What a sell ! " and she pointed at him with 
 her dainty little finger, and laughed provokingly. 
 
 " Not at all," replied 'he, gravely. " I should have 
 been very sorry if you had said a word about me. 
 To tell you the truth, Maria, I was disgusted with 
 all I heard with the coarseness of your ideas, and 
 the vulgar language in which you expressed them. 
 You are really a lady ; what is the use of pretend- 
 ing you are not ?"
 
 204 MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Maria colored, tossed her head, and said, " Fudge." 
 
 " Fudge isn't argument," said he, coldly. 
 
 " No more's scolding," was her reply neither of 
 them appearing to study correctness of grammar or 
 elegance of language in their several speeches. 
 
 " You are a nice little thing naturally," said he, 
 " but you are on the high road to become a very 
 nasty one. I wonder what pleasure you have in it 
 I do indeed." 
 
 Whereupon Maria burst out crying, and saying 
 she wouldn't stay there to be insulted, not if he 
 were fifty times her cousin, rushed out of the room > 
 slamming the door after her with a great bang. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders as he looked in the 
 direction she had taken. " It's a great pity," he said. 
 " She really is a good girl in the main, and she 
 is doing her best to become odious ; it is the most 
 hideous of all the hideous fashions of the day, 
 worse a thousand times than chignons and pearl 
 powder." 
 
 " Is she your cousin ? " asked Miranda, timidly. 
 
 " Yes did you not know it ? and half-a-dozen 
 years ago the dearest little doll, blushing at every- 
 thing, and almost too soft and feminine ; and now 
 you see what she is."
 
 THE AJARADE. 205 
 
 " Do they all do it ! " asked Miranda. 
 "All ? Who ? What do you mean ? " 
 " All fashionable ladies are they all vulgar ? " 
 " No, no ! thank heaven, no ! " replied he, smiling ; 
 " but there is this fashion of being fast and talking 
 slang got among them, and some of the silly girls 
 seem to think it an uncommonly clever thing. 
 There never was a greater mistake than that, for 
 any fool can do it ; and if they only knew how it 
 disgusts men ! *' 
 
 " I don't think Maria would mind that" 
 " I beg your pardon ; that's all talk- a blind put 
 up to hide the real feelings that are so very much 
 the other way. And then the slang, and the using 
 vulgar words saying ' drunk ' for ' tipsy,' for in- 
 stance, as Maria did just now, and as I was quite 
 vexed she should do to you there's no wit in it; 
 they fancy it's piquant ; and it does provoke a smile, 
 but it's only from the incongruity of such words 
 coming out of such lips, just as the merest approach 
 to a joke that would not meet with a moment's atten- 
 tion in the drawing-room, makes you laugh from the 
 pulpit, not because of its wit, but simply because it 
 is out of place." Mr. Gregory was working himself 
 up into a state of indignation, and quite haranguing
 
 2 o6 MSSS HITCHCOCK^ WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Miranda, who, however, admired all he said extreme- 
 ly, and rejoiced from the very bottom of her innocent 
 heart that she had never, as far as she knew, used a 
 slang phrase in her life. " But oh ! " he said, with a 
 sudden change of voice and manner, " don't let us 
 waste our time in talking and thinking of those who 
 are not worthy to be named in the same year with 
 you, and into whose faults and errors you would 
 never fall." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Miranda, simply and gravely, 
 " that you overrate me very much ; I may not have 
 that special fault, but I do assure you I have plenty 
 of faults of my own. Please don't make any mis- 
 take about me ; it would be so unpleasant if you 
 had to change your opinion." 
 
 His eyes expressed a little of- the love and admi- 
 ration that these words excited in him ; but he only 
 replied, in a very low, restrained voice, " I believe I 
 understand your character better, perhaps, than you 
 do yourself." 
 
 " That you easily may," she replied, gayly, " for I 
 never thought about understanding it ; I didn't 
 know I had got any particular character at all." 
 
 " In that," he answered, in the same low voice, 
 "lies its greatest charm."
 
 THE CHARADE. 207 
 
 " I am quite sure vanity is one of my faults," 
 said she, laughing and blushing. " I find I like 
 being complimented." She was going to say 
 ' admired,' but some instinct made her change the 
 word to ' complimented.' 
 
 " I hope you will like something else," he cried ; 
 " something better than all the compliments that 
 ever were paid. I hope you will." 
 
 She looked at him frankly, yet a little timidly 
 smiling, but also with a slight color coming into 
 her cheeks. 
 
 " I think I like almost everything," said she. 
 
 " Life is very new to you," replied Mr. Gregory, 
 "and as long as life is new everything seems 
 likable." 
 
 " But / like old things best," said Miranda, with a 
 pretty mutinous expression springing up into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Like what you please," cried he, laughing, " only, 
 among them, like me." 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 " And yet, not among them either hardly among 
 other things ; I am more aspiring, more presump- 
 tuous, than that; it is as one apart from others that 
 / would be liked."
 
 2 o8 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " As a friend," she said softly, with a bright smile 
 and a brighter blush. 
 
 " Yes, he cried, ardently, " as a friend, if only if 
 only you understand all that the word may contain." 
 
 What more might then have been said who can 
 tell ? But Mr. Gregory and Miranda were fated to 
 be interrupted, and always at what was, perhaps, the 
 most interesting part of their conversations. At 
 least so thought Miranda, when just at that minute 
 Miss Leslie re-entered the room. It is possible that 
 at whatever minute she had happened to return 
 Miranda would have thought the same. 
 
 " Well," said Maria, " here I am ; have you got 
 anything more ill-natured to say to me ? " Then 
 glancing at the two whose tete-a-tete she had dis- 
 turbed, and probably making her own observa- 
 tions on them, she added in rather a marked man- 
 ner, " Pray Arthur, what account did you have of 
 Hannah to-day ? " 
 
 " And his name is really Arthur," thought Mi- 
 randa. " How right ! King Arthur the Duke of 
 Wellington the most beautiful name in the world ! " 
 
 "Hannah is better to-day," replied Mr. Gregory, 
 quietly and gravely ; "the doctor considers that she 
 is going on quite well."
 
 THE CHARADE, 209 
 
 " Out of danger yet ? " inquired Maria, sharply. 
 
 " I hardly know," replied he, coloring a good deal ; 
 " scarcely yet, I should fear. It must be difficult in 
 such a case to pronounce." 
 
 " Poor Hannah poor Miss Hitchcock ! " said 
 Maria ; " she is greatly to be pitied." 
 
 "I don't know any one I pity so much," said 
 Miranda, fervently. 
 
 Mr. Gregory looked at her, and Maria asked why ? 
 
 Miranda hesitated, and at last said she had rather 
 not tell her reasons ; but Maria urged her, and 
 " chaffed " her, and tormented her. First she made 
 her say that she had a great many reasons, and then, 
 under pressure, these great many reasons resolved 
 themselves into three. She was then put through a 
 course of questions about the three, and every now 
 and then desired " not to mind Arthur, but to speak 
 up like a man." 
 
 " Why should I mind him ? " said Miranda. " Well, 
 if you will have it, I'll tell you. I pity her because 
 she isn't pretty ; I pity her because she doesn't 
 look nice ; and I pity her because she has 
 money ! " 
 
 " Well, of all the reasons for pitying anybody, that 
 last is the queerest. I'd willingly be an object of
 
 2io MJSS HITCHCOCK 'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 compassion on those terms ; I would indeed," said 
 Maria. " But, oh ! who would have thought it was 
 so late ; there's the dressing bell." 
 
 "And I must go," said Mr Gregory ; then, as he 
 took leave, he said in low, persuasive accents to 
 Miranda, " Will you call at No. to-morrow about 
 four ? Will you ? " 
 
 " Yes if I can yes/' replied she, hurriedly. " I 
 shall certainly want to inquire how. she is." 
 
 " Thank you," was the only answer ; and he was 
 gone. 
 
 Maria looked keenly at her. 
 
 " He is very fond of lecturing other people," said 
 she. " I wonder whether he ever reflects on what 
 sort of road he is travelling himself, or where it will 
 lead him to." 
 
 " What can you mean ? " cried Miranda, indignant 
 at the inference conveyed as much by the manner 
 in which they were spoken as by the words them- 
 selves. 
 
 " Never mind," replied she ; " only slang is a trifle 
 compared with some other peccadillos ; and people 
 who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." 
 
 " That remark cannot apply to your cousin," said 
 Miranda, with extraordinary dignity of manner.
 
 THE CHARADE. 211 
 
 " Oh, can't it ? Very well so much the better for 
 him, then." 
 
 Miranda now wished her good-bye, and, notwith- 
 standing this slight tiff, the salutations exchanged 
 between the two girls were cordial in the extreme, 
 nor would Miss Leslie allow her to take her de- 
 parture till she had promised to return on an early 
 day to practise the song. 
 
 Miranda trod on air all the way home, and her one 
 thought was that she should see Mr. Gregory again 
 the next day, about four o'clock ; for certainly, she 
 reflected, he never would have asked me so earnestly, 
 and thanked me so warmly, if he had not meant to be 
 there himself. Oh, how good he is ! how noble he 
 is ! how delightful he is ! and she stood still for a 
 moment on the pavement, while a flood of glory 
 seemed to overwhelm her, and compass her round 
 about, from the mere thought a him that there 
 was such a man in the world that che had met him 
 and that he had chosen her for his friend. 
 
 She ran gayly in to tell Sophy everything. Poor . 
 patient, hard-working Sophy, v.ho had been busily 
 plying her needle through the afternoon hours of 
 Miranda's absence. Poor, kind, sympathizing Sophy, ' 
 who put down her work to listen, r.nd had a word,
 
 2i2 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDhVG DRESS. 
 
 and a kiss, and a look ready for every part of the 
 happy narrative, where word, kiss, or look were 
 required ! When an unmarried woman, past her 
 first youth, gives warm sympathy to a girl's love 
 story, I think she is the most unselfish of created 
 beings. I do hope there are crowns of love in 
 heaven for such. 
 
 " I can't help liking Maria," said Miranda, " though 
 she is vulgar. And if you could see her, Sophy ; 
 she is the most refined, soft, delicate-looking little 
 thing in the world, and her mouth is like a rosebud 
 or like a tiny, rosy shell ; and when these big, ugly, 
 slang words come tripping out of it, I declare you 
 don't know whether to laugh or to cry." 
 
 " Mr. Gregory was very severe on her," said So- 
 phy, " but I hope it may be of use to her ; she 
 deserved it." 
 
 " Oh, he would not have said it if she had not de- 
 served it," said trusting Miranda ; " and it was that 
 made me first see how wrong it was it had been 
 amusing me before like something in a book or at 
 the play ; and she looks so sweet and delicate all the 
 time, one can't think the same of her words as if 
 she was a coarse-looking, hulking woman. But 
 when he reproved her, I felt it all in a minute. Oh,
 
 THE CHARADE. 213 
 
 Sissy ! I should die if he ever spoke to me like 
 that." 
 
 " He couldn't, darling," said Sophy, " because you 
 would never do anything to make him." 
 
 " Nobody ever scolded me in my life," said Mi- 
 randa, " and I can't think what I should do if they 
 did." 
 
 " But," said Sophy, " do you suppose Miss Leslie 
 really is going to marry Mr. Hitchcock ? " 
 
 " She said ' they ' wanted her to. I can't think 
 who she could mean by ' they.' They must be very 
 horrid creatures, I'm sure. And what could they 
 want it for ? A man old enough to be her father, 
 and such a very disagreeable man too ! He thought 
 of nobody at all but himself, and he was not the 
 least ashamed to say so. He really did not seem one 
 bit aware that he was going on saying heaps of 
 heartless things every time he opened his mouth. 
 And his face was like the ogre in the fairy tale 
 book at which I always screamed when I was a 
 child." 
 *, " Well, he can't help that," said rational Sophy. 
 
 " Oh yes, but he can," cried Miranda ; " because it 
 is the expression in his face that is like. Anybody 
 can help having an ogre's expression ; it would be
 
 214 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIA'G DRESS. 
 
 most unfair if they couldn't. Really, Sissy, I never 
 saw such an ill-natured face in my life before. Poor 
 Miss Hitchcock's is nothing to it nothing at all." 
 
 " I hope they won't marry that poor little thing to 
 nim." 
 
 " But why should they want to do it, Sissy ? and 
 who do you think they are ? " 
 
 " I suppose," said Sophy, almost reluctant to put 
 such ideas before her innocent sister " I suppose 
 he is what is called a good match very rich, you 
 know, and that Miss Leslie's parents want her to 
 marry him on that account." 
 
 " Oh, how shocking ! " said Miranda, quite appalled. 
 " What dreadful wickedness ! Let us Jiope, Sissy, 
 it's not anything so bad as that." 
 
 Mrs. Green tapped at the door now, and, being 
 asked to enter, gave Mr. Gaunt's compliments, and 
 would the two ladies mind stepping down into his 
 room for half-an-hour, while he just gave a touch or 
 two more to his sketch of Miss Miranda ? Sophy 
 was up and dressed that day for the first time, 
 though she had not ventured out of her garret yet ; 
 but she thought the change of air and scene would 
 be rather pleasant ; so taking Miranda's arm, the two 
 descended the stairs and paid a visit to the first floor.
 
 THE CHARADE. 215 
 
 He received them with bluff cordiality, set chairs 
 for them, and declared himself delighted to see Miss 
 Maxwell " on her legs again." 
 
 " You had a close shave," said he ;"but it doesn't 
 matter how close when the razor's shut up out of 
 sight in its case again." 
 
 Then he took a sheet of paper out of a portfolio, 
 and silently laid it before Miranda, who after look- 
 ing at it, cried out, astonished, " Maria ! " 
 
 For it was a charming little sketch of Miss Leslie, 
 and certainly made her look as if no slang word 
 could ever have passed her delicate lips. 
 
 " Is it like ? " he said, rather eagerly. " She's so 
 difficult to do ; it's hardly possible to make her 
 spirituelle enough, and I only did it from memory. 
 Is it really like ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed. I was with her all this afternoon, 
 so I have her fresh in my memory. It is very like." 
 
 He looked at it discontentedly. " It does not do 
 her justice," he said ; " but that's not easy. I suppose 
 she told you how I dragged her about from place to 
 place and stuffed her coach full of queer people, 
 though, I dare say, she thought none of them as 
 queer as myself," and he gave Miranda a quick up- 
 ward glance from under his shaggy brows.
 
 216 MI~S HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " She" was enchanted when she heard who you 
 were, and said she was wild about art, and that it 
 was an honor to have had a tete-a-tete drive with 
 you," said Miranda, smiling. She did not add that 
 she had called him a nice beast ; and when she saw 
 how pleased he looked, she thought it was quite as 
 well she had not mentioned it. 
 
 " Well now," cried he, " let's go to work and finish 
 Miranda, at least as much of her as can be done out 
 of the studio. " 
 
 So Miranda sat to him, serene and lovely, and 
 thinking of Mr. Gregory all the time.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 THE next morning dawned fair and radiant, 
 ushering in one of our lovely English summer 
 days, unsurpassed in beauty by those of any other 
 country on this globe. Did it know what it bore in its 
 bosom for Miranda ? or was it as unconscious as the 
 child herself when she danced gayly forth to meet 
 Mr. Gregory at Miss Hitchcock's ? Never again, Mi- 
 randa, will you be quite the same as you are to-day ; 
 be it joy or be it sorrow that lies before you, it is a 
 new joy or a new sorrow ; and the old life, the beau- 
 tiful life of your childhood, is vanishing from you, 
 never to be yours again never more ! No knell of 
 departing days sounded in her ears no chime of 
 brighter joys fast coming. She danced on in her 
 innocent gayety, thinking neither of the past nor of 
 future, only of the all-sufficient present. She was to 
 see him, and that was enough for her. But how or
 
 218 MJSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 why the seeing him should be enough for her she 
 never thought of asking herself. 
 
 And so she rang the bell of No. , Eaton Place, 
 and was ushered by the same servant into the same 
 pretty little sitting-room where she had conversed 
 with Mr. Hitchcock the day before. But it was 
 not Mr. Hitchcock who joined her now ; it was 
 Lady Gregory's nephew. 
 
 A sudden, rapid memory took her back to the first 
 moment she had ever seen him, before she had so 
 much as heard him speak, when the tall, handsome, 
 fashionable man had gravely offered her his arm 
 and asked her to dance. 
 
 " You will excuse my not waiting for an introduc- 
 tion," he had said ; " but I am Lady Gregory's 
 nephew." 
 
 She could not tell why she thought of this first 
 meeting, when their souls were strangers to each 
 other, now that he came up to her with the eager- 
 ness and warmth of a friend, pressed her hand in 
 his, and said, " You have come ! " 
 
 " Yes," she replied, softly, " I have come." 
 
 " Is anyone with you ? " 
 
 " No ; I am quite alone. How is she to-day ? is 
 she better ? "
 
 LOVE. 219 
 
 " Yes ; she is a good deal better ; the doctors 
 begin to say now that they think she will recover." 
 
 " And where is her father ? " 
 
 " He has gone out of town. He could not bear 
 to have such a case of serious' illness in the house." 
 
 " No ; he is a horribly selfish man." 
 
 " Now," said he, " I have something to say to you 
 something I have wished to say almost from the 
 first minute in which I saw you, that minute which 
 I shall never forget as long as I have the power of 
 remembering anything and I must say it now, be- 
 cause I am obliged to leave London. 
 
 " To leave London ! " cried she, in dismay. " Oh ! 
 not really ? " 
 
 " Thank you," he said, with some agitation of 
 manner. "You may be sure I would not go unless 
 I was forced ; but thank you for caring." 
 
 " Of course I care." 
 
 " I shall not stay long only a few days ; I shall 
 return the first possible moment ; but I can't bear to 
 go without speaking, because because who knows 
 what may happen in a few days even ? " 
 
 " But what is it you want to say ? " 
 
 " Ay, what is it ? " cried he. " What is it ? Dare 
 I tell you ! Can you assure me that I dare tell you ?
 
 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 I have brought you here on purpose, and I stand be- 
 fore you powerless the veriest coward that ever 
 crawled upon the earth." 
 
 " You a toward ! Oh, how can you say so ? " 
 
 " Do you believe in love at first sight ? " 
 
 " In love at first sight ? Oh, dear,- no, of course 
 not ; does anybody ? " 
 
 " Yes I do." 
 
 " But love must be founded on respect, on esteem, 
 on a knowledge of character." 
 
 " Must it ? Not so not founded on them like 
 other feelings ; or whence comes it that it is love? 
 How does it differ, then, from friendship, or calm, 
 fraternal regard ? No, believe me when I tell you 
 that love man's love for woman comes in a mo- 
 ment, divining character, and itself laying the foun- 
 dation for the esteem you speak of." 
 
 " Does it ? " half sighed Miranda, with strange, 
 trembling sensations creeping over her. 
 
 " It does ; and then from it springs the return a 
 woman can make far different, much cooler half 
 gratitude, half gentle regard, out of which the warmer 
 feeling will surely come. If a girl feels she has that 
 for a man who would willingly die to possess her as 
 his own, let her be content."
 
 LOVE. 221 
 
 He spoke in strong, suppressed agitation. His 
 deep voice trembled, and his dark eyes shot fire. 
 
 Miranda stood like one in a dream, her lovely face 
 suffused with blushes, her eyes downcast, her breast 
 softly heaving. 
 
 He could resist his own passion he could keep 
 back what he felt no longer. 
 
 " I love you ! " cried he. 
 
 She stretched out her hands in a sort of appeal, 
 and seemed almost as if she would fall ; but in that 
 instant she was clasped to his heart, and held there 
 with a tender force that she had neither the power 
 nor the will to resist. 
 
 " He loved her ! Was it possible ? Was this the 
 meaning of it all ? And she loved him ! And with 
 that thought her face was hidden on his shoulder, 
 and she yielded herself to those protecting arms. 
 
 He felt the shy, loving movement. 
 
 " My darling my darling my own darling ! " he 
 cried, triumph in his voice, and passionate joy in his 
 eyes ; " you love me you love me ! " 
 
 But she drew herself away from him, and stood 
 there, and turned her lovely eyes on him with their 
 frank, innocent, startled gaze. 
 
 " Yes," she said, almost in a whisper, " I love you."
 
 222 MfSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 Then she hid her face in her two little hands, and, 
 affrighted at her own boldness, would have run away. 
 
 But how could she run away when he was there 
 to prevent her ? 
 
 And so some minutes passed in that sweetest of 
 all converse the first fresh words and vows of newly 
 spoken love. 
 
 After many and many fond expressions and tender 
 questions, with their happy replies, he said, suddenly. 
 " And now, my darling, only think I don't even 
 know your Christian name." 
 
 " Miranda," replied she, shyly. 
 
 " Mi-ran-da ! " said he, dwelling tenderly on the 
 syllables. " What a sweet name, and how exactly 
 your own. But we must change the other part of it 
 very soon ; it must not continue to be Miranda 
 Style." 
 
 With a sudden start she withdrew herself from 
 the arm that had again encircled her. 
 
 " Oh, I had forgotten I had forgotten ! " she 
 cried. There was terror in her eyes and despair in 
 her voice. " It is all over all all over ! " 
 
 And she wrung her hands and looked at him with 
 a grief and a remorse that he felt he never could 
 forget. He was silent from sheer astonishment.
 
 LOVE. 223 
 
 " lam not Miss Style, and you won't \vish to " 
 Marry me was the natural conclusion of the 
 sentence, but her newly awakened heart could not 
 say such words as those even to itself. 
 
 " You will never like me again. I am not Miss 
 Style. I am a'i impostor ; but I didn't meant it. 
 Oh, I didn't mean it ! " she cried. 
 
 " My darling, what are you talking about ? " 
 
 " I am not Miss Style. I am an impostor. I am 
 a dressmaker." 
 
 "You are not Miss Style? You are a dress- 
 maker ? My dear love, are you mad ? or do you think 
 I am a fool who will believe anything that is said 
 to him ? " 
 
 " You must believe me," she cried, in strong agita- 
 tion. " I am telling you the simple, miserable truth ; 
 but I didn't mean it it was done all in joke. I 
 never thought about it when I was with you, except 
 for an instant now and then, when it seemed so 
 amusing. I was thinking only of you, and so it 
 never occurred to me ; and I never guessed I had 
 not an idea that you you know I had not an idea 
 or I would have told you at once. I never, never 
 meant to deceive you for a moment. Oh ! you must 
 believe me when I say that'' ^
 
 224 MISS . HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Be calm, my dearest, I will believe anything ; 
 but what what, in Heaven's name, does it all 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am not your dearest. You will never 
 like me again. I am a dressmaker ! " 
 
 " A dress maker ! " 
 
 " Of course, I am a lady. Papa was a clergyman, 
 but he died so poor, and Sissy did not like me to be 
 a governess, so we work for Madam La Gai." 
 
 " Where I met you ? " he cried he, still utterly be- 
 wildered. , 
 
 " Yes, yes, where I met you ; and I went to that 
 ball in Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress." 
 
 He stared at her with a sort of blank look in his 
 face, then he took hold of one of his hands in the 
 other and pinched it violently. 
 
 " I feel the pain," said he, still staring at her. " I 
 am not asleep. Am I going mad ? " 
 
 "No, no," she' cried. "Don't look at me so. 
 You are not mad ; you are only hearing just what 
 I say. Oh ! don't speak to me as you did to Maria ; 
 she was only foolish, and I was wicked ; but I shall 
 die if you speak to me as you did to her. I had 
 just finished the dress, and I was so silly that I put 
 it on ; indeed I never did such a thing before. I
 
 LOVE. . x - 225 
 
 can't think why I did it then, but I felt as if I 
 couldn't help it. And then I didn't know it when 
 I put on the dress ; but there was a ball next door, 
 and I slipped out and slipped in and followed them 
 up stairs. Oh, the joy of it ! Oh, how happy it 
 was ! " 
 
 And an expression of delight came suddenly into 
 her agonized face, while she gave him a radiant 
 smile. 
 
 And the same instant she felt herself clasped to 
 his heart. 
 
 " My darling," he cried, " what does it matter who 
 you are. It is yourself that I love, whatever your 
 name may be." 
 
 The happiness of the next few minutes was some- 
 thing more than is often given to mortals to 
 know. And when, at last, they came out of the 
 blissful dream, Miranda was able to explain more 
 coherently what had passed, and how it had all 
 happened. She found, not that she was forgiven, 
 but that she was not considered to have done any- 
 thing that required forgiveness. Her lover, from the 
 first, clearly understood her innocent daring, and in 
 some way, and for some reason that she could scarce- 
 ly enter into, loved her all the better for it.
 
 22 6 MSSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 When she was composed enough, she told him 
 her own and Sophy's sad story, and how they had 
 worked to support themselves since their father's 
 death. In the midst of this little history her real 
 name has been mentioned, and she spoke of Brook- 
 field, the living that her father had been rector of, 
 where she had been born, and where her happy 
 childhood had glided away ; but when the name 
 passed her lips, Mr. Gregory interrupted her with 
 vehemence. 
 
 " Brookfield ! " he cried. " Maxwell ! Is it possi- 
 ble then, my love, that you are the daughter of Mr. 
 Maxwell of Brookfield ? Why, I have heard his 
 name all my life ; he was at college with my uncle 
 Charles, and was his intimate friend. Uncle Charles 
 is a clergyman too." 
 
 " How wonderful ! " cried Miranda. " Then after 
 all we are old family friends. How delightfully 
 everything always turns out ! " 
 
 "Never till now now always," replied he, ten- 
 derly. " My life was all astray till I met you 
 nothing went well. Now I am sure it will all be 
 like marriage bells. And when when when will 
 those marriage bells sound for us, Miranda ? " 
 
 He addressed her by her name, for the first
 
 LOVE. 227 
 
 time, as if a whole world of joy lay in the very 
 sound. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " surely we are happy enough 
 now without wishing for any change ? " 
 
 " No," he said, boldly, " we are not I am not I 
 shall never be content till you are. my own." 
 
 " I am that now," she said in a whisper. 
 
 " You are not," he cried. " See, I must go out 
 of town, and I cannot take you with me." 
 
 " Then why do you go ? " 
 
 " Ah ! why, indeed ? Why do we let business or 
 duties, even the most important, stand between us 
 and the little, little happiness we can ever know ? " 
 
 " Little happiness ? " 
 
 " No, no great, immense, overwhelming, satisfy- 
 ing. I speak only of time. Life is so short." 
 
 " Short ! " cried she, astonished ; " it seems to 
 me like a lovely, endless valley that at last only 
 melts into the sky." 
 
 And she sighed, and lifted up her eyes as if she 
 saw heaven. 
 
 " I am not an angel like you," was his only 
 answer. 
 
 " But why are you going out of town ? " said she, 
 smiling ; " and I want you to know Sissy."
 
 228 MISS HITCHCOCfCS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Ah ! do you remember when you refused to 
 introduce me to her ? " 
 
 " Ah yes ! Do you recollect such little things ? 
 How affronted you were ! " 
 
 " But the reason why I must go down to the Hall 
 (my home, you know -your home, Miranda)i is, that 
 I have made appointments there about buying and 
 selling land. There are lawyers and people to meet 
 me. It has been long arranged, and this is the 
 only time it can be done. A neighbor on whom 
 it all depends is just of age, and must act now, as 
 he is going abroad immediately." 
 
 " Very well, then ; as soon as ever you come back 
 I will introduce you to Sissy. How you will like 
 her." 
 
 " And she will she like me ? " 
 
 " Like you ! What a question ! Of course she 
 will. 
 
 " And then," said he, " when I come back, I must 
 see Miss Hitchcock. She will be well enough then, 
 I suppose, and we will finally settle that disagree- 
 able business." His brow clouded for a moment, 
 but when he looked at her it cleared again. 
 
 " What business have you with her, poor thing ? " 
 
 " My love, have you forgotten ? "
 
 LOVE. 229 
 
 " Forgotten ? No ! Why, she was not deceived 
 too, was she ? She does not suppose I am Miss 
 Style ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, she does, though I don't see what 
 that has to do with it." 
 
 " And Maria, your cousin ? No, I know she does 
 not, because they tried the mantle on me that day I 
 sang to them, you know. Oh ! but Miss Hitchcock 
 was there too, and called me 'that young woman,' 
 so she cannot have known who I was." 
 
 " How extremely impertinent ! " said he, coloring 
 deeply. 
 
 " No, don't mind," she said, coaxingly ; " it wasn't 
 impertinent ; she thought I was there on purpose. 
 It was all a mistake ; and Madame La Gai was so 
 sorry, and told me it should never happen again." 
 
 " I think, then, that Madame La Gai must have 
 said something to support your dignity that misled 
 them all ; for certainly, they, one and all of them, 
 believe you are Miss Style. I know they were ex- 
 tremely puzzled by your likeness to yourself at the 
 bail, and Maria questioned her the next day, and 
 asked if you were not really a lady, and had been 
 at play with them ; and from what she said in reply, 
 Maria had not a doubt you were Miss Style, indeed
 
 230 MJSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 she assured me Madame La Gai had told her so. I 
 know Hitchcock thought so when he sent me 
 after you yesterday." 
 
 " Then I have been going everywhere under false 
 pretences, and I had not the least idea of it ; and 
 when they, any of them, referred to masquerading, 
 I was in such a fright, thinking, for the moment, 
 that they had found out about Miss Hitchcock's 
 wedding dress/' 
 
 " Yes," said he, smiling at her ; " see what it is 
 to have a guilty conscience." 
 
 " And ajl this time everybody has thought I was 
 Miss Style ! " 
 
 " And I am so glad you are not. I am so glad you 
 are Miranda Maxwell." 
 
 " Are you really ? And just now I thought you 
 would give me up because I was myself. Oh, how 
 miserable I was ! I wonder whether I should have 
 died. I do think I should ; not just that minute 
 you know, but in a little time." 
 
 There was only one reply he could make to this 
 speech, given, as it was, so entirely from her heart. 
 When he had made it, she said, " But why are you 
 particularly anxious Miss Hitchcock should know 
 who I really am ? "
 
 LOVE. 231 
 
 " My love, I am not in the least anxious. I don't 
 care a halfpenny about it ; in fact, I am not particu- 
 larly anxious for anything, except that everybody 
 should, as soon as possible, know you as my wife." 
 
 Miranda blushed beautifully at the word. 
 
 " But," said she, rather timidly, " you said you 
 must explain it to her, and that it would be very dis- 
 agreeable." 
 
 " No, no not it. I was not referring to that. My 
 darling, have you really forgotten that I was engaged 
 to Miss Hitchcock, and that the empty form of that 
 engagement it was never anything more must be 
 broken off ? I should have done it before I spoke to 
 you at all, but for this accident she has met with." 
 
 It was now Miranda's turn to look at him in blank 
 amazement, only she really did not seem capable of 
 taking in the meaning of the words. 
 
 " Engaged to Miss Hitchcock ! " she repeated 
 slowly, and like a person speaking in her sleep. 
 "You!" 
 
 "Yes, of course, I," he said, rather impatiently. 
 " You have known it from the first. You knew it 
 before we met." 
 
 She put her hands to her forehead and pushed 
 back her hair, as if she thought it oppressed her head.
 
 232 -fl/ASS HITCIfCOCJTS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " You engaged to Miss Hitchcock ! " she said 
 again, and still incredulously, though this time with 
 a little fear in her voice ; " but Mr. Cressingham ? 
 surely he Mr. Cressingham ? " and her tones rose 
 almost shrilly (if shrillness and Miranda could be 
 named together) as she repeated the name. 
 
 " It is not possible," he cried. " You must know 
 there cannot be a double misunderstanding. Why 
 do you look so ? Why do you speak so ? You must 
 know that / am Mr. Cressingham ! " 
 
 " You ! " cried Miranda ; that was all she said. 
 
 Then there was a minute's silence. He stood, 
 his eyes fixed upon her, astonished and uneasy ; but 
 she? he could not unravel the mystery that he 
 found in her face. And so they stood looking at 
 each other these two, who, so short a space of time 
 back, had believed that the world held nothing but 
 happiness for them both. 
 
 " My dearest love," cried he at last, " what is the 
 matter with you ? What difference does it make ? " 
 and he laughed, or tried to laugh. " Of course I am 
 Mr. Cressingham. I had not the slightest idea that 
 you did not know it." 
 
 " You are Mr. Cressingham," said she. " You are 
 engaged to Miss Hitchcock."
 
 LOVE. 233 
 
 " Don't say it in that way," he cried, with sudden 
 anger. "" Yes, / am Mr. Cressingham. / am engaged 
 to Miss Hitchcock. What then ?" 
 
 " Then you are not engaged to me ! " 
 
 " My darling, don't say so. I am engaged to you 
 doubly, trebly engaged to you engaged by all 
 that is dear on earth or sacred in heaven. I am not 
 engaged to her. A stupid form has passed between 
 us, nothing more ; it can be blown away by a breath." 
 
 " Oh no ! " said Miranda, drearily ; "you are hers. 
 You are not mine. I will not have you." 
 
 V 
 
 " You will not have me ! " 
 
 " No ; you are not good ; you are not noble." She 
 wrung her hands in agony. " You are hers ; you are 
 not mine." 
 
 " I am yours by every law, human and divine, 
 Miranda, and I will not give you up." 
 
 "And my life rise from her death ?" she shud- 
 dered as she spoke "the death of her happiness and 
 her hope ! Oh no, no ; you have promised yourself 
 to her, and you must have her." 
 
 "-That I will not. I will break off the engage- 
 ment ; it is an unholy one. I was blind when I 
 made it ; I see now." 
 
 "And she?"
 
 234 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Oh ! she she," he cried, impatiently " she is 
 not worthy of a thought ; a hard, heartless woman 
 to stand in our way in the way of our love ! She 
 does not care a straw for me." 
 
 " She does," said Miranda, with the air of one who 
 solemnly pronounced her own death-warrant ; and, 
 indeed, what else did she do when she uttered those 
 words ? " She does ; I know I feel she does. Oh 
 yes, you must marry her ; you have promised it, and 
 it must be." 
 
 " Are you heartless too ? " cried he, with sudden 
 passion. " Oh, I see I understand you do not 
 love me." ' 
 
 She shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she said, " I love you ; did I not tell 
 you so ? Why should you doubt it ? Love cannot 
 change ; can it ? I suppose I shall love you for 
 ever; shall I not?" 
 
 She seemed really asking him, as if for informa- 
 tion she was anxious to have. 
 
 "Miranda," he said, in an agony of love, anger, 
 and apprehension, " what do you mean ? If you love 
 me, what does it matter I Are you afraid that I do 
 not really love you? I swear to you, by everything 
 I hold dear, that I have never loved anyone else, and
 
 LOVE. 235 
 
 that my affection will only cease with my life. Then, 
 if we both love each other, why should you care ? 
 This past folly this mistake I have made will soon 
 be over ; no one will be the worse for it ; 
 and you and I will be perfectly happy you and I, 
 Miranda." 
 
 Everything was gone from his manner, as he 
 finished speaking, but love, and he ran up to her to 
 take her again in his arms, but she pushed him back 
 from her with a sort of horror. 
 
 " You are not good," she said ; " I can't marry 
 you; and you are bound to her" 
 
 " You told me yourself," cried he, trembling with 
 impatience, " that an engagement might be broken 
 off that it was better not to make false vows. I 
 will go to her T will tell her I will ask her to 
 break it off, and she will consent. And then I will 
 come to you, and you will receive me." There was 
 almost defiance in his tone, as if he would force her 
 to give an answer which he knew she was going to 
 refuse to make. 
 
 " No, " she said ; " I shall not. Let me go away ; 
 I can't bear this any longer ; my heart is breaking. 
 But you are not good, and I can't marry you." 
 . " You have no heart ! " he cried. " I have poured
 
 236 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 out all the wealth of my love on one who cannot 
 return it." . 
 
 " Let me go," she said, faintly, and moved towards 
 the door. 
 
 He placed himself between her and it. 
 
 " Will you marry me ? " he said, fiercely. 
 
 "-No, I will not," said sorrowful Miranda. 
 
 " Because I am not good ? " 
 
 " Yes ; because you are not what I thought you, 
 and because I cannot make that other miserable." 
 
 " That other ! And have you no thought for me ? 
 Am not I miserable ? And have you not even a 
 tear for me, Miranda ? " 
 
 " A tear ! " cried Miranda, astonished, and touch- 
 ing her dry eyes with her hand. " Am I not crying ? 
 Ah, how happy I used to be when I cried ! I 
 suppose I shall never shed any more tears ever 
 again." 
 
 There was something indescribably pathetic in the 
 way in which she said these words ; and her lover, 
 proud, strong, indignant as he was, felt as if he could 
 have cried himself as he heard them. 
 
 " Don't speak to me any more," she said. " Let 
 go it is of no use." 
 
 " Go," he said ; " but if you care for me, you will
 
 LOVE. 237 
 
 come back ; if you do not, I must bear my misery as 
 I can." 
 
 Miranda came up close to him. She touched 
 him lightly on the shoulder with one hand, and 
 looked earnestly in his face. 
 
 " You must marry her if she will," she said, soft- 
 ly, "and make her happy if you can ; and then oh! 
 my love, if you do this, we may meet in heaven."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 r ""HERE had been some noise in the house that 
 threatened interruption, or perhaps Mr. Cress- 
 ingham might not have let Miranda go even then. 
 She left him she scarcely knew how ; and he hardly 
 knew that she was gone till he looked round and 
 found himself alone. 
 
 As for her, she walked home like a creature in a 
 dream. She did not feel the pavement under her 
 feet ; she did not see the people who passed or met 
 her. Nothing was real nothing was alive ; despair 
 was in her heart and in her face, and her meaning- 
 less eyes looked steadily on, with a hopeless, dead 
 look in them, which, with her white cheeks and 
 rapid, changeless pace, drew the momentary atten- 
 tion of many a passenger, wrapped in his own busi- 
 ness, towards her. One benevolent man, the father 
 of growing-up daughters, turned and followed her a
 
 THE EA T D. 239 
 
 little way ; but this was just as she reached home ; 
 and when he saw her enter her home, he went on 
 his own route again with quite a sigh of relief. 
 
 She let herself in. She crept noiselessly up stairs, 
 ashamed and afraid ; and entering the little garret, 
 which had witnessed many a day all the sweet gayety 
 of her girlish spirits, she flung herself prostrate on 
 the bed, and buried her poor, tearless face in the 
 pillow. 
 
 She lay thus for many hours. 
 
 At last Sophy found her patient Sophy, who 
 had been working below working, watching, and 
 wondering waiting for her darling to come home to 
 her, with bright hopes in her heart of what her dar- 
 ling might have to say. At last she went up stairs 
 to get some more thread, and there she found her. 
 
 The smart" bonnet and Indian shawl were on the 
 floor, and Miranda herself lay crushed together, as 
 it were, on the bed, her pretty hair all hanging about 
 her, her dress in disorder, and when she sat up and 
 stared at Sophy her face was ghastly white, her eyes 
 sunk, with black circles round them, and her fair 
 face shocking to behold. 
 
 She began to speak instantly, before Sophy had 
 time even to exclaim.
 
 240 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 "Oh! Sissy," she said, "it is all over it is all 
 over. Oh ! what shall I do ? what shall I 
 do ? " 
 
 " Miranda, you frighten me. What is the matter ? 
 Some dreadful thing has happened ; what is it ? " 
 
 " Some dreadful thing has happened ; what is it ? " 
 repeated Miranda, in a tone of wonder. Then it ail 
 rushed back upon her. " Oh yes I know I know 
 dreadful, indeed dreadful, indeed ! He is not 
 good, Sissy he is not good he is not good ! " 
 
 And again she sank down, and again her face was 
 hidden in the pillow, and her slight figure almost 
 concealed by all the chestnut hair that lay about it. 
 
 " He has insulted you ! " 
 
 " Insulted me ! " cried she, sitting up again. " He 
 loves me so he could not insult me, and I love him. 
 Oh ! what shall I do ? I love him. What shall I 
 do ? what shall I do ? " 
 
 " Did he tell you he loved you ? " cried Sophy, 
 eagerly. " Did he ask you to marry him ? " 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " Did you know I lovecl him, Sissy ? I didn't ; 
 but oh, how happy we were ! How long ago is it, I 
 wonder? It seems years. Is it really only to-day?"
 
 THE END. 
 
 241 
 
 " But, Miranda, my clear, what is all this about ? 
 What has happened ? " 
 
 " He is engaged to Miss Hitchcock ! " 
 
 " Who ? Mr. Cressingham is is not he ? " 
 
 " No, no. Mr. Gregory is Mr. Gregory is Mr. 
 Cressingham, and he is engaged to Miss Hitchcock. 
 There now, you know it all. Do you think I shall 
 die, Sissy ? Some people do die young mamma did. 
 Oh, how I hope I may ! " 
 
 " Miranda, don't talk so pray, don't talk so ; I 
 can't bear it, my love. But what do you mean, 
 then ? I thought you said he had offered to you" 
 
 " So he did." 
 
 " And that you accepted him." 
 
 " So I did." 
 
 " Then what is the matter, and who is engaged to 
 Miss Hitchcock ? " 
 
 "He is. Oh, won't you understand? Will no- 
 body ever understand ? Must I go always on ex- 
 plaining and explaining this dreadful story ?" 
 
 " My darling, I don't think you know what you 
 are saying." 
 
 " Sophy, George left you ; but he was obliged to 
 leave you, was he not ? He was quite, quite good ; 
 
 wasn't he ? " 
 
 16
 
 242 HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 This sudden plunge into the long-buried and 
 never-spoken-of past this abrupt reference to the 
 old love story she did not know the child sister had 
 clearly understood, took poor Sophy's breath away. 
 A great awe seized on her ; it seemed like some one 
 speaking just before death, whose departing voice 
 might touch any subject, however sacred. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, solemnly, after the pause of 
 one affrighted moment; "he left me because we 
 could not afford to marry ; he was the best man I 
 ever knew, except papa." 
 
 " Then you are happy immensely happy, though 
 you may never see him again. Poor Sophy poor 
 Sophy ! you are happier than I am. Mine is not 
 good ! " 
 
 The words came out with a sort of wail. She 
 pushed her face down among the pillows, as if she 
 would fain hide it for ever, and moaned piti- 
 fully. 
 
 " Now, Miranda, my darling, you must tell me 
 what it all means," said Sophy, soothingly, after a 
 little time, during which she allowed her sister to 
 give full vent to her emotions. " You must really 
 tell me what he has done." 
 
 " As if I hadn't told you," said she, in a weary
 
 THE END. 243 
 
 way. " He is not Mr. Gregory. That has been my 
 mistake all the time. He is Mr. Cressingham." 
 
 " Oh, Miranda ! " 
 
 " And he is engaged to Miss Hitchcock." 
 
 "Then he has been only amusing himself with 
 you," said Sophy, in a shocked, pained, miserable 
 voice. 
 
 " Amusing himself ! " cried Miranda, bolt upright 
 on the bed again. " Oh, he loves me so ; and I love 
 him so ; and the other was all a mistake he doesn't 
 care for her, or she for him, he thinks and he means 
 to break it off directly." 
 
 " Oh, my darling ! not really ? Then it is all right ? 
 Then what is the matter ? " 
 
 " All right, Sissy, when he was engaged to her ; 
 and when she must be made unhappy ; and when 
 he has done wrong \ he who I thought was like an 
 angel out of heaven. All right ! And the only 
 hope I have in the world is that my heart may really 
 break, and that I may die. Oh, hearts do break," she 
 added, wildly. " Don't you remember the story in 
 the Diary of a Physician of the girl whose lover for- 
 sook her, and her heart broke at the piano ? She 
 went on and on, trying to be as usual, and to live it 
 out ; and she sat down to sing something, and they
 
 244 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 put his favorite song before her, and she began to 
 sing it ; and then her heart broke, and she died." 
 
 "Don't, Miranda please don't. I really think 
 you are making yourself miserable about nothing. I 
 really think he has done nothing wrong that you 
 need mind. These sort of things do happen. Men 
 do make mistakes. I really think that you may be 
 as happy as possible." 
 
 " Sissy ! " 
 
 " I think Mr. Gregory Mr. Cressingham, I mean 
 may be a very good man a very good man indeed ; 
 though he did make a mistake when he was quite 
 young, and engage himself to Miss Hitchcock." 
 
 " Oh ! would papa think so \ " 
 
 Sophy reflected a moment, then she sent up a little 
 prayer for guidance, and then she kissed Miranda's 
 white face, and said, solemnly 
 
 " Yes, my darling, I believe he would." 
 
 Miranda sat motionless, as if she had fallen into a 
 trance motionless, speechless, amazed. After a 
 while she began to tremble, and then she began to 
 weep. Her tears seemed endless they poured forth 
 out of her eyes, big, bright, and beneficent endless, 
 as if she had never shed any before in her life, and 
 was never to shed any again.
 
 THE END. 245 
 
 At last she spoke. 
 
 " Then I can bear anything else," she said. " Of 
 course I must not think of him, except as a friend ; 
 but I was very happy in his friendship before I knew 
 better, and I must try to be content now." 
 
 " But why should you not marry him when he has 
 broken off the engagement ? 
 
 " Oh, don't, Sissy, don't!" she said, shrinking; 
 "you hurt me. First, it is so wrong to think of such 
 a thing while he is still engaged ; and then, if she 
 was made unhappy, I never could no, I never could 
 I should be haunted by her all my life." 
 
 And Miranda thought, with a shudder, of a bride 
 in the looking-glass Miss Hitchcock in her wed- 
 ding dress whom she had fancied, during the 
 weary watch she had kept by her bedside, was shut 
 up there to haunt her for ever. She had made that 
 ghost vanish by walking boldly forward and looking 
 for it. "Are these strong, senseless impressions 
 always allegories, symbols, prophecies ? " thought 
 she, with vague superstition, " Is it the thought of 
 the real bride that was to be, that is to haunt my 
 life if I take her place ? and is it only by straight- 
 forward courage that I can lay her ghost ? Was that 
 haunting fancy at once a prevision of our future life,
 
 246 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 and a lesson how to avoid it ? Was it for that, that 
 circumstances led me in so unexpected a manner to 
 watch by a stranger's bedside ? " 
 
 It was getting late, and Sophy now begged Mi- 
 randa to undress and go to bed to try and get 
 some sleep. 
 
 " Yes, I will give in this one night, because I really 
 couldn't sit up," Miranda confessed ; " but after 
 that I must be as usual. I may have a long time 
 to wait ; I may have to wait all my life. He may 
 marry her, or he may not be able to break off the 
 engagement soon, or she may be made unhappy ; 
 and all that while I must not even think of him 
 not in my own heart not even in my prayers ex- 
 cept as a friend ; and so I must begin at once, to- 
 morrow, and work, and talk, and be just as usual, or 
 else I shall be cheating and not really doing it ; but 
 just now I will not try to be strong, because I am 
 so weak ; so I will undress, as you tell me, and go 
 to bed, and perhaps by-and-by I may get a little, 
 little sleep." 
 
 Some sleep Miranda did get, but in the middle 
 of the night she woke Sophy. 
 
 " Sissy," she said, " I am so very sorry I was so 
 selfish I thought only of myself, and not one bit
 
 247 
 
 of you ; and I didn't know it I hadn't an idea of 
 it. That's the worst of being selfish ; one is 
 horrid, and one doesn't know it. I was just like 
 Mr. Hitchcock." 
 
 " But what did you do, dear ? I don't know of 
 anything. You were very unhappy, poor child ; 
 that was all." 
 
 "I talked of breaking my heart and dying 
 young, " said Miranda, indignantly ; " as if I could 
 think of such a thing, however much I might wish 
 it, when there's you ! I ought to have been 
 ashamed of myself, that I ought, and so I am. 
 Me to die young, indeed, and leave my poor old 
 Sophy that would be a pretty thing to do." 
 
 And she crept up to Sophy's side and fondled 
 her, and went to sleep with her head on her breast. 
 
 After that night Miranda kept her word. She 
 went about her work as usual, and was as brave and 
 as strong as a good girl could be. She might not 
 laugh quite as often, or chat quite as gayly as her 
 wont, and her cheeks might have lost a little of 
 their delicate wild-rose tint, but that was all ; in 
 sweetness, goodness, industry, and even cheerful- 
 ness, she was Miranda still. 
 
 She knew that Mr. Cressingham was out of
 
 248 JfSSS HITCHCOCJfS WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 town that there was no fear of her meeting him ; 
 yet she did not go near either Miss Hitchcock or 
 Maria Leslie. It was under a mistake that they 
 had known her. To them she was Miss Style. 
 She knew not how to undeceive them ; but she 
 would not associate with them except as herself, 
 and as herself she supposed they would not care to 
 have her. To Miss Hitchcock, of course, under no 
 circumstances would she go ; and she must still be 
 too ill to want anybody, or to think about her at all. 
 But perhaps Maria might wonder why she did not 
 walk in some afternoon, to four o'clock tea, to sing 
 Far Away, " perfectly in tune," to the excruciating 
 sounds of the creaky, creaky organ. How like a 
 dream that song now seemed, at the end of which 
 he had pushed open the door and entered the room ! 
 Was she really the same girl who stood there sing- 
 ing, and been left alone with him when Maria had 
 run, crying, away from them ? But here she found 
 herself on dangerous ground, and her thoughts had 
 to be reined in and turned forcibly in an another 
 direction a thwarting which always happened to 
 them when they got upon dangerous ground, which 
 they perhaps did something about forty times in 
 every hour ; but no one could be more conscientious
 
 THE END. 249 
 
 or determined than Miranda was in always turning 
 them off it again. 
 
 It was just about this time that Mr. Gaunt en- 
 treated her to pay him the long-promised visit to 
 his studio and give him one final sitting for his 
 portrait of Miranda. She agreed to do this. Sophy 
 accompanied her, and they spent a pleasant half- 
 hour looking over his pictures. 
 
 " If your friend, Miss what's-her-name, is so wild 
 about Art," said he, suddenly, in his gruffest tones, 
 "why doesn't she come and have a look at him 
 here ? " 
 
 ' I dare say because you didn't ask her," replied 
 Miranda, smiling. 
 
 " And how could I ask her when I didn't know 
 she cared twopence-ha'penny about it ? " cried he, 
 angrily. " Why don't you tell her she may come ? " 
 
 " I never see her now," said Miranda, with a half 
 sigh. 
 
 " Oh, a fickle, fashionable friend ! Yes, yes, I 
 see," sneered Mr. Gaunt. 
 
 " No, you don't," answered she. " She may be 
 fashionable I'm sure I don't know whether she is 
 or not but she is not fickle ; it is I have not been 
 to see her ; I have been busy and I did not go."
 
 250 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 " Well, there you are complete as Miranda, at any 
 rate," cried he, flinging down his brush ; " and you 
 may walk miles and miles before you see a prettier 
 picture hang it all ! " 
 
 The two sisters paid their tribute of praise to 
 the picture, warm and honest enough to satisfy 
 even the artist ; after which they strolled home 
 together, talking softly as they went of all they had 
 seen. 
 
 When they entered the little back parlor, 
 Miranda sank listlessly into a chair. 
 
 " Oh, I am so tired," she said. 
 
 " What's that ? " said Sophy, her eye falling on a 
 few inches of white that lay on the table. 
 
 Miranda turned languidly and took it up. 
 
 " A note ! " she cried, surprised ; adding, " for 
 me," with some emotion. 
 
 Then she opened and read it, and looked up at 
 her sister with a meek, defenceless look. 
 
 " Oh, Sissy, what can this mean ? " 
 
 And then she read aloud 
 
 " ' Miss Hitchcock presents her compliments to 
 Miss Miranda Maxwell, and will be much obliged if 
 she can call on her this afternoon, between five and 
 six o'clock.' "
 
 THE END. 351 
 
 " Oh, Sissy, what shall I do ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear, I think you must go." 
 
 "To her? Of all the people in the world to 
 her ! " 
 
 " You have behaved nobly by her. You have 
 done all that was right. You need not be the least 
 afraid to see her. Why should you not go ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know." 
 
 " Probably it is only to thank you for having 
 nursed her ; or perhaps about some millinery busi- 
 ness. You were at her house, you know, on some 
 such errand when she met with the accident." 
 
 " He has told her my name ! She knows I am 
 not Miss Style ! " 
 
 " My dear, do you wish not to go ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I believe I wish I had not got 
 this note ; but since I have got it, I could not bear 
 to keep away." 
 
 " Then take my advice and go at once, without 
 thinking any more about it ; it is past five o'clock 
 now." 
 
 " Oh yes, it is so easy to say that to go without 
 thinking about it," murmured Miranda, as she 
 arranged her bonnet at the glass ; and then she 
 kissed Sophy, and went.
 
 252 M/SS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDIXG DRESS. 
 
 She hardly knew whether she thought at all, as 
 she walked from her own house to Miss Hitch- 
 cock's. But when she rang the bell at the end of 
 her journey, her cheeks were hot, her hands cold 
 and her heart beat fast. 
 
 The door was opened to her by the smart page, 
 who smiled his recognition, and then handed her over 
 to the same maid who had declined making herself 
 useful when her mistress had met with an accident, 
 because it was not down in any of her characters. 
 She conducted her to the drawing-room floor how 
 familiar .it ah 1 seemed to Miranda, and yet how 
 strange and, opening a door there, ushered her 
 into a dressing-room, or boudoir, luxuriously fur- 
 nished and full of flowers. There on a sofa lay Miss 
 Hitchcock, browner, plainer, and more disagreeable- 
 looking than ever, and dressed by the dictates of her 
 evil genius in a white peignori covered with embroi- 
 dery and trimmed with delicate mauve ribbons. Why 
 was that poor woman always forced to put on things 
 the prettiest in themselves, yet the most unbecom- 
 ing to her unfortunate person ? That is a hard 
 fate which, nevertheless, attends some people 
 through life. Is it by something incongruous 
 something that jars in their own minds that they
 
 THE END. 253 
 
 deserve it ? Is it a sort of poetical justice 
 understood by nobody, and least of all by them- 
 selves ? Miranda stood timidly by the door,' 
 looking at the ugly woman in her beautiful room, 
 and charming, unbecoming invalid dress look- 
 ing at her, but not daring to approach her. 
 
 " What has he told her about me ? what has he 
 told her about me ? " was the one thought in her mind. 
 
 " Is that you, Miss Maxwell ? " said the pleasant 
 voice she remembered so well, and which now sent 
 a little thrill all over her ; " pray, come here pray, 
 do not stand by the door." 
 
 Miranda advanced towards the lady like a pup- 
 pet moved by strings. She tried to speak, but 
 her tongue seemed parched, and could not utter a 
 word. Then Miss Hitchcock laughed her peculiarly 
 disagreeable, harsh laugh. 
 
 " Are you afraid of me ? " said she. 
 
 Miranda asked herself the question, " Am I ? " 
 She raised her eyes frankly to meet the forbidding 
 eyes fixed on her, and answered, " No, I am not 
 afraid of you there is no reason why I should be." 
 
 " Scarcely," said the other. " I want to thank 
 you for watching by me when no one else would ; 
 the doctor thinks you saved my life."
 
 MISS HITCHCOCK'S WEUDIXG / 
 
 This was quite a new idea to Miranda. The 
 color rushed into her cheeks that had been pale 
 with suppressed emotion, and >oy danced in her 
 
 eyes. 
 
 " Did I really ? " she cried. 
 
 There was no mistaking what she felt. 
 
 "You are glad ? " said Miss Hitchcock, pleas- 
 antly, regarding her at the same time with a stern, 
 almost spiteful countenance. 
 
 " Glad ? " cried Miranda. " I should think so ! " 
 
 " You are a good girl." 
 
 " Good, because I am glad I saved your life ? " 
 and she laughed a little. 
 
 " Yes, if that life came in the way of your own 
 happiness." 
 
 " As if that would make any difference ! " 
 
 "No difference in the act perhaps, but in the joy 
 that follows the act." 
 
 " Besides," said Miranda, blushing brightly, and 
 speaking very timidly indeed, " it could not come in 
 the way of any happiness which belongs to it, and 
 to no one else." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Miss Hitchcock, " people don't 
 always think of whether a thing is their own, if they 
 can anyhow get it."
 
 THE END. 255. 
 
 Miranda was silent for a minute, and then said, 
 "Are you much better ? Are you getting quite well ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other ; " I am much better ; I 
 am getting quite well ; I shall soon be well enough 
 to be married. Have you got my wedding dress 
 safe?" 
 
 Miranda was covered with blushes, and had not 
 a word to say for herself. She felt dreadfully 
 ashamed. 
 
 " It fitted you exactly, did it not ? Do you think 
 it will fit me as well ? Do you know I have never 
 tried it on ? " 
 
 " Pray, forgive me," said Miranda, gently. "I am 
 so very sorry." 
 
 " Sorry dear me ! forgive you what for ? What 
 have you done ? " 
 
 " For wearing your wedding dress," said she at 
 once, frankly and timidly. " It was very wrong of 
 me. I am glad you know of it, so that I can ask 
 your pardon." 
 
 " And is that the greatest injury you have done 
 me ? " said the other. 
 
 Miranda reflected. 
 
 " Yes," she said. " I have done you no other 
 injury that I could help."
 
 256 AfISS JfITCI/COCA"'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 "Will you come to my wedding?" said Miss 
 Hitchcock, abruptly. 
 
 " No," replied Miranda, in great haste ; " I will 
 not." 
 
 " Shall I come to yours ? 
 
 Miranda was silent. 
 
 " Will you wear my wedding dress ? " 
 
 She looked up like a .startled fawn. 
 
 " You have surely some meaning in what you are 
 saying ? " 
 
 "Do you think people ever pass through a great 
 danger conscious of that danger, and come out of it 
 just the same as they went into it ? " 
 
 " No," replied Miranda, thoughtfully ; " I don't 
 suppose they ever do." 
 
 " I had plenty of time for reflection when I was 
 ill," continued Miss Hitchcock ; " and I saw a good 
 many things in new lights ; and I made a rrcat many 
 plans for the future, if any future was to be mine. 
 But nothing came so vividly before me as the fact 
 that Arthur Cressingham and Hannah Hitchcock 
 made a great mistake when they promised to many 
 each other." 
 
 Miranda pressed her hand against her heart to 
 still its rapid beating.
 
 THE END. 257 
 
 " And so the first thing I did when I got better 
 was to send for him and tell him so, and give him 
 back his promise and ask for mine." 
 
 Miranda grew paler and paler, and pressed her 
 hand harder against her little trembling, fluttering 
 heart. 
 
 " You did ! " 
 
 " I did ; and he quite agreed with me." 
 
 " And it was you who did it first ! '' cried Miranda. 
 " And you didn't know of me ! Thank God thank 
 God." 
 
 " My dear child, are you about to faint ? Pray 
 don't ; I'm not strong enough to help you." 
 
 " This is going too far," said Mr. Cressingham, 
 advancing suddenly from Miranda had not the 
 slightest idea where, and catching her in his arms 
 just as she would have fallen to the ground 
 
 But she rapidly came to herself again. The spirit 
 wa r j too happy not to be eager to return to the 
 form that was encircbd by those dear arms. Al- 
 most the first thing she said was, in the softest 
 whisper, " Forgive me ; I blamed you too much ; I 
 did not understand *' He stopped the words 
 with kisses, and assured her that he had deserved 
 every word she said. And so all Miranda's scruples
 
 253 AfJSS HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS. 
 
 were satisfied, and the happiness which her sweet 
 nature was so well fitted to enjoy surrounded her 
 like a flood of sunshine. 
 
 It is a pity to draw stories out to any length a'tcr 
 the denouement has occurred, and either perfect joy 
 or perfect misery has set in. The intelligent reader 
 and none, we believe, but an intelligent reader 
 will have accompanied us so far in our narrative, 
 does not require to be told that Mr. Cressingham 
 persuaded Miranda to fix an early day for their 
 marriage, and that, long after that glorious day was 
 among the has-beens of life, he continued to be the 
 happiest -of men as she was of women ; for if his 
 love had been sudden, it was deep and true ; and he 
 was one of those fortunate beings who, falling in 
 love with an idea (for such love at first sight must 
 always be), finds the reality surpasses instead of 
 falling short of it. 
 
 We will, therefore, only add, what even the most 
 intelligent reader might not divine for himself, that 
 Mr. Cressingham, having a most excellent living in 
 his gift, close to the Hall, managed to get rid of its 
 rector without poisoning or otherwise maltreating 
 him, and immediately afterwards presented it to 
 faithful George, who, in consequence thereof, gave
 
 THE EA r D. 2 S9 
 
 up his chaplaincy in India, returned home in the 
 highest spirits, and married faithful Sophy ; and 
 that Maria Leslie and Mr. Gaunt met very often in 
 the course of the next year or two, but that I am 
 not going to give the least hint as to whether any- 
 thing came of it. Be that as it may, however, one 
 thing is certain, neither Mr. Cressingham nor Mi- 
 randa Maxwell ever for a moment regretted, or 
 had any cause to regret, through the whole of their 
 future lives, the evening when she first put on 
 Miss HITCHCOCK'S WEDDING DRESS.
 
 DR. HOLLAND'S 
 
 LATEST PROSE WORK. 
 
 SEVENOAKS. 
 
 A STORY OF TO-DAY. 
 
 BY J. G. HOLLAND. 
 
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